Birch Tree Cottage

Ian had been fun at first, if somewhat insensitive and immature. Sometimes he'd paw and grope Becky 'for a laugh', always apologising afterwards like a guilty teenager despite being twenty-two. His lack of experience further revealed itself when they eventually fucked for what turned out to be their one and only time. Ian was clumsy and rough, appearing only to be concerned with his own pleasure which, mercifully for Becky, took very little time to peak.

"That's it!" thought Becky as he rolled-off her seemingly pleased with his performance. She listened to the start-stop splashes of him pissing and hoped that it was all ending up in her toilet pan.

"Ian. It's not working is it?"

"Wh ... what do you mean?" he stammered.

"Please don't make me spell it out Ian. Let's just call it quits, huh?"

Ian left Becky's flat and that was that. No drama. Somewhat easier than Becky had expected. It hurt a bit; splitting up always does, but Becky knew that the relationship wasn't heading anywhere positive and the lousy sex was just the final straw.

~~~ / ~~~

Becky needed some time to herself, to take stock, re-energise ... move on. Having only recently joined the environmental consultancy as a junior ecologist, Becky was at the back of the queue in terms of booking the favoured holiday slots. In any case, as with most places, those with young kids tended to get first dibs; something she had no issue with. As such, and as late winter became early spring she still had a few days of her allocation to take before the end of March cut-off.

And so it was that on a crisp late February morning, Becky found herself walking a trail of green lanes and ancient woodland combining her love of nature with her passion for walking. With a distance of twelve miles to cover and, knowing her tendency to stop to examine or photograph all manner of living things, she started early. The overnight frost was still evident, causing the fallen leaves and vegetation to crunch beneath her boots. As she covered the miles, her face glowed from the cold air but her body was warm from the multiple layers enclosing it.

From the map on her phone, she could see that the route would soon emerge from the woodland and take her through what looked to be a small village.

"Mmm ... chocolate," thought Becky, knowing that her backpack contained only energy bars and fruit. As soon as she entered the village, it became clear that her chocolate fix would have to wait. The 'village' was no more than a hamlet of a dozen or so pretty cottages with no other facilities. At the small village green with its tiny duck pond, Becky took a few pictures including one of the resident Mallards who seemed both very tame and well fed.

Turning left, according to the route, the metalled road surface soon ended, continuing as a green lane. She stopped at an old wooden bench opposite a cottage located some way beyond the rest of the village. Reaching into her bag but unable to locate her small flask, Becky cursed aloud. "No chocolate and now no coffee," she sighed, resorting to her water bottle and taking a few sips. The B&B owner had kindly filled her flask that morning after breakfast and Becky knew exactly where in her car she'd left it.

"Is everything alright my dear? Have you lost something?" a woman's voice asked though, at first, Becky couldn't see who it belonged to.

"Oh ... hello," replied Becky as the woman appeared from behind the rose arch spanning the entrance gate to the cottage.

"Sorry if I alarmed you my dear," said the woman, "You seemed miles away."

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you. I was just looking for my flask but seem to have left it behind. I've the water anyway so all's well."

"Poor dear," the woman said somewhat maternally. "You'll need a hot drink inside you on such a chilly morning. Come in, come in ... I was just about to make one for myself."

"That's so kind of you but I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble," replied Becky, though the woman's offer was certainly tempting.

"Not at all. It's absolutely no trouble. Please ...." she opened the gate and gestured to welcome Becky through.

Becky, observant as ever, admired the traditional front garden layout and despite the late winter drabness she imagined how it would look in the summer. Closer to the house were various wooden creatures all beautifully sculptured from burr hardwoods. As Becky paused to look closer at an improbably sized snail and a more realistically proportioned Hare, the woman smiled somewhat wistfully, "All my husband's own work, God bless him. Come on in dear."

Becky estimated the woman to be in her mid to late sixties. She was fairly short and though not obese, had a well rounded figure with ample bosom and rear. She was dressed in a heavy tweed skirt of rather unfashionable length and a chunky, probably home knitted, cardigan which was buttoned to the neck obscuring any other upper garments. Only the lower parts of stockinged legs were visible below the skirt hem as were the tops of her thick socks where they emerged from her stout boots.

As they entered the cottage, Becky reached down to unlace her own boots. "Oh, don't mind that dear; It's all flagstones downstairs. Come through." Becky followed the woman into the small kitchen which was cosy if a little dark. It smelt of baking and spices and everywhere there were more examples of her late husband's handywork. The fruit bowl on the kitchen table, other bowls dotted around and smaller, more delicate creatures all superbly detailed and with a beautiful shiny patina.

On a hook next to the hearth was a somewhat dangerous looking cudgel in polished burr oak. It was a thing of beauty, thought Becky though she cringed slightly at the thought of its intended purpose.

"Pest control, mainly rats, originally my dear though, in truth, it's just an ornament these days," the woman declared, reading Becky's thoughts.

Reassured, Becky thought that such an object might also provide some security given the rather isolated location.

"Now then my dear. Let me get those drinks. You sit down and rest your legs."

It was obvious which of the chairs was the woman's preference so Becky sat down on the other side of the kitchen table while the woman busied herself.

"I'm afraid I've no tea or coffee my dear. I prefer to make my own infusions according to the season. I do hope you'll like my spiced winter warmer. It's been a good year for the ingredients but I'll soon be switching to my spring tonic."

"That sounds lovely, thank you," replied Becky, familiar as she was with such drinks as her mother drank fruit and herbal teas all the time.

Although, some distance from the open fire, Becky could feel its heat so unzipped her jacket to avoid overheating. The cottage was obviously old and the windows single-glazed, but that small wood burning fire was keeping the kitchen, at least, incredibly warm.

"There you go my dear," said the woman setting the earthenware mug down in front of Becky. "You might prefer a little honey if it's too sharp for you," she added, pointing to the covered wooden pot.

The drink smelled delicious thought Becky. There were any number of different scents but she could certainly detect cinnamon, mace and citrus. Her first sip revealed it to be slightly too tart for her taste so she added a teaspoon of the honey to tone it down a little.

"Perfect!" said Becky and the woman smiled, sipping her own drink.

After a while, Becky asked "Have you lived here long?" though the lack of small-talk up to that point hadn't felt in any way awkward.

"Oh yes. Many years," the woman replied. "It's so peaceful here. Such a hard thing to find these days". Though the pair were so very different, Becky knew what the woman meant.

They sat for a while, the only sounds being from the fire and the ticking of the kitchen clock.

Suddenly, the woman exhaled somewhat forcefully to indicate that she was getting hot. She unbuttoned and removed her cardigan under which she had on a long sleeved, buttoned top which was well fitted if slightly tight around her chest. Becky could make out the contours of a sturdy bra beneath which was just about supporting her substantial breasts.

"It is warm, isn't it?" said Becky, removing her walking jacket which she hung on the back of the chair next to hers.

"It's not called winter warmer for nothing," said the woman before taking another long sip. Becky did likewise savouring the warming tingle in her throat as she swallowed the drink. Observing Becky's enjoyment, the woman added, "All these new-fangled things in the shops but I stick with the tried and trusted country recipes, thank you very much."

At least in terms of this particular drink, Becky couldn't agree more. Of its type, she'd tasted nothing better. Not only was she now warmed through but she'd begun to feel incredibly relaxed bearing in mind that she was in a complete stranger's home and that she wasn't the most outgoing person in the world.

Becky finished her drink first but thought it only right that she stayed until the woman had drunk her own. The woman seemed in no great hurry and, if truth be told, neither was Becky. With the early start, time was on her side and, in any case, there was an option to shorten the circular route if it became necessary.

"Top up, my dear?" asked the woman.

"Err ... I should really be ... actually, I will thank you. That was absolutely delicious." replied Becky.

The woman topped up the pot, waited a few minutes then strained the liquor into Becky's mug before adding a teaspoon of honey and a fresh stick of cinnamon with which to stir it in.

"There you go my dear," the woman said as she returned to her seat.

Becky, suddenly feeling a little tired, didn't answer immediately. "Thank you. You're so kind," she finally responded before raising the mug to her lips. It felt heavier this time which seemed odd and she was unable to fully control it as she placed it down with a thud on the table causing some of the liquid to wash over the rim.

"Whoops-a-daisy," chimed the woman. "It's got quite a kick to it hasn't it? It's some of the herbs and roots dear. I've drunk this for so many years that I'm used to it. I sometimes forget how it can affect others. Nothing at all to worry about though. You drink up. It'll do you good."

Reassured by the woman's words, Becky took several more sips, before placing her mug down more carefully. It would certainly make a good nightcap thought Becky as her eyelids grew heavy. She closed her eyes and became aware of the clock ticking ever more loudly until it felt almost as if it were actually inside her head. She leant forward and with her elbows on the table, was just about able to support the weight of her head.

"Are you tired my dear?" asked the woman. "Warming up too quickly can do that."

Becky could hear the woman clearly and was fully aware of her surroundings but she couldn't reply. It's as if the signals from her brain to her mouth had become disabled somehow. "Mmmm ..." was all she could manage by way of a response at which the woman smiled knowingly.

On hearing the woman move about, Becky took a deep breath and managed to sit back upright on the chair. Her peripheral vision was a little blurred but the woman herself was in sharp focus.

"Isn't it warm my dear? I hope you don't mind me getting a little more comfortable," the woman said, unbuttoning her blouse before drawing it over her head. As Becky had suspected, a somewhat old-fashioned, wired bra supported the woman's heavy breasts but not for long. The woman reached behind, undid the clasps and slipped off the shoulder straps before pulling the bra from her arms.

"Arr ... that feels so much better." the woman said cupping her breasts while looking directly at Becky.

A part of Becky felt slightly shocked but only a small part. The rest of her felt totally relaxed as if this was just a film she happened to be watching. She was utterly transfixed, her eyes locked on the woman's impressive, freckled bosom with its cleavage shiny from her perspiration. Her large nipples were set in wide brown aureoles and were visibly stiffening and enlarging as Becky watched.

Becky had a rapidly developing urge to pee and, discovering that she was unable to move her legs, tried to get the woman's attention.

"Mmm ..." she called though it came out more like a moan.

"Oh you like what you see, do you?" asked the woman playfully.

"Mmm ... mmm!" Becky tried again but try as she might, couldn't form the words. Just able to move her left arm, she managed to gesture to her crotch, hoping the woman got the message.

"Oh, I understand now my dear. Silly me."

Becky, still otherwise relaxed, was relieved that she'd soon be able to get to the toilet. The woman, however, didn't come to Becky's assistance. Instead she took off her gardening boots, unzipped her heavy skirt and stepped out of it. Her stockings, socks, suspender belt and large blue pants quickly followed revealing her plump but fairly firm body in all its glory.

Instead of surprise, Becky felt something rather different. Despite the ache from her bladder, she became aware of other sensations in her pelvic area as she studied the naked form in front of her.

The woman didn't sit back down. Instead, she walked around the table, knelt down and proceeded to remove Becky's walking boots followed by her walking trousers by wiggling the fabric under and then clear of her bottom

"Mmm ..." Becky again managed a small gesture towards her genitals now so desperate that a few drops of pee had darkened the crotch of her pants.

"Patience is a virtue my dear." said the woman now flushed and breathing more heavily. "I see that the herbs have got you all of a flutter."

Becky could sense that the woman was becoming increasingly aroused and wasn't at all surprised when she stood back up, steadied herself against the table close to Becky and began rubbing between her legs while working her breasts and nipples with her other hand. The intimate scent of the woman reached Becky's nostrils which against all logic, increased her own feelings of intoxication.

"Oh ... that feels nice my dear," the woman gasped as her rubbing gathered pace until, suddenly, she stopped abruptly before making her way, somewhat unsteadily, to the fireplace where she removed the cudgel from its hook. She then took a small earthenware pot from the mantelpiece and, after removing the lid, she reached inside and removed some brown, sticky paste which she proceeded to smear all over the thick end of the cudgel and along roughly half its length. Reaching down, and with her back to Becky, she wiped the excess paste around her vulva. It struck Becky as being the first sign of modesty the woman had shown since she'd arrived.

The woman stood for a few moments, her legs shaking slightly from the sensations caused by the application of the paste. Once the tremors eased, the woman pulled her own chair around to Becky's side of the table and sat down directly in front of her. Becky observed the dark flush of arousal across the woman's chest, her plump white torso and the mat of dark hair masking her genitals.

"This is nice dear isn't it? I do wonder if you're a little overdressed though."

The woman stood up, reached over to Becky and deftly removed first her outer fleece, then her thermal base layer. That felt a lot better thought Becky though in her state of semi-paralysis and intoxication, feeling or thinking anything much was proving to be something of a challenge. Despite the dull pain in her pelvic area appearing to have peaked, she knew that it was highly likely that she'd have to let go very shortly. At least it's a slabbed floor, she thought.

The woman sat back down and, even before she'd reached for the glistening cudgel, Becky had worked out what was coming. Sure enough, the woman lowered the dark, polished implement to her vulva and after easing her outer folds apart, offered up its large, rounded head to her entrance. Beads of sweat formed on the woman's brow in anticipation of what was to come and moisture of a different kind began to be released inside Becky who felt a twinge of jealousy as she watched intently.

"The first bit takes a bit of doin' ..." said the woman as she strained against the head of the cudgel suddenly gasping, "Oh my Lord!" as her vagina suddenly relented. She paused briefly, before starting to fuck herself, slowly at first then faster as her arousal grew.

It was too much for Becky. With her genitals now swelling from her own arousal, she could no longer hold in the contents of her bladder. At first she tried to let her pee out a drop at a time but the diuretic effect of the herbal drink was strong and the drops of urine quickly became a stream which flooded, first her pants, then the slightly dished wooden seat before overtopping and splashing noisily onto the flagstones. Becky then fully let go knowing that the sooner she was done, the better.

The woman didn't seem to notice, her eyes rolling as she grabbed at her breasts while plunging the wooden shaft deep inside. The combination of the potent drink and stimulating lubricant was causing the woman to lose all control, any shame having long since been forgotten, if indeed it had ever existed.

"Oh my word!" the woman called out as she began to thrash about just managing to stay on the chair. Suddenly, she became still and rigid, her inner walls clamped hard around the cudgel as her climax enveloped her. As she lost control, her own bladder contracted sharply resulting in a forceful stream of urine which splashed onto the floor and mixed with Becky's.

Becky was desperate to touch herself and was relieved to discover that some feeling had returned to her right arm which felt as if she'd slept on it all night. She slid her hand down her pants, over her mons and located her clitoris, now fully emerged from its protective hood. With a rather clumsy but still effective action, she began to rub firmly then closed her eyes and lay back in the seat. She didn't stop when the woman gripped the waistband of her soaking wet pants though she strained to raise her bottom slightly making their removal a little easier. Opening her eyes just a fraction, she watched as the woman spread more paste on the cudgel before returning to her chair which she drew even closer to Becky's.

Becky knew what was coming. She wanted it so much but felt nervous, mostly due to the cudgel's size. She closed her eyes as the woman leant forward but instead of the smooth wooden head, she felt the woman's fingers below her own as they explored without hindering Becky's own vigorous stimulation. The woman eased first one then two fingers inside then rotated them repeatedly pressing firmly against Beck's vaginal walls. The woman had left the excess paste on her fingers and her actions had spread the concoction around Becky's vagina. It tingled, then burned then just felt "So fucking good!" thought Becky. Two fingers became three then four, squeezed together as one, before the woman pressed her thumb in there too. Becky gasped and as her own orgasm approached so the pace of her rubbing increased until her fingers were a blur across her clitoris. The woman, in turn, thrust harder and more quickly until she felt the tell-tale grip of Becky's vagina as her orgasm landed. The woman kept her fingers tightly in place until the spasms, eventually, subsided then eased them out releasing a stream of Becky's fluid mixed with the herbal paste. Becky's eyes remained tightly closed as her breathing began to slow.

"I think you're ready now my dear. All nicely open," said the woman.

Becky braced herself, still enjoying the after-shocks from her climax. Without hesitating, the woman slid the head of the cudgel between Becky's labias and straight into her now gaping vagina. "Oh .... Fuck!" Becky moaned, her voice starting to return, but the woman didn't relent and continued to push the cudgel deeper until there was just sufficient left outside to maintain her grip.