The (Late) Much Loved Old Clem

Lucy was getting her glass of water ready for bed. Mart was upstairs, and she was in the kitchen without the light on. She turned to the window and looked out. Up the track in the moonlight came the figure of an old man. Lucy stared in disbelief. It could not be. The garden gate opened and closed. She heard it. Lucy rushed to the front door and opened it but there was no one there. No one in the porch, no one in the garden, no one at the gate, no one on the track. Had she imagined it?

Lucy awoke in the pitch blackness of the night. She was warm and 'snuggly' in her bed but was immediately conscious someone, therefore Mart, was there, standing beside her bed. Had he just visited the bathroom to deal with a call of nature? She reached out to touch him and her hand found the firm, warm hardness of an erection. Really, she wanted to go straight back to sleep. Had he been standing there thinking about her all naked under the bedclothes? Had he perhaps been wanking as he thought of her? Her hand closed, and she moved the mobile skin back and forth, and then, getting up on an elbow, she leant in with her lips. Lucy was no stranger to fellatio. She might only be married a few days, but Mart and she had been going out for two years. Her lips sought and found. They slipped over the rounded, so smooth knob and began a rhythmic sliding. To and fro, up and down until, yes, she felt a shaking and a hint of manly thrusting before the warm spurting of a penis.

Lucy settled back on her pillow, licking her lips and preparing to swallow. The semen in her mouth seemed just to melt away. Mart had, after all, come inside her before sleep. Perhaps there had not been much ejaculate. She was asleep before she could think more.

It was lovely waking to the early morning sunshine streaming through the cottage window onto her bed. The view out of the window wonderful, and there beside her, sheet thrown back was her new husband with his manly organ extended - as it so often was. Lucy stared at both the sleeping man and his erection. All hers - her man!

Should she? The thought moistened her. Should she wake him to find he was already inside her. Could she get on him 'cowgirl' before he awoke? Her fingers slipped between her thighs, delving into the protecting curls and lips to touch herself intimately. Her fingers entering herself, finding she was both sticky and moist from the night before. She pushed her fingers inwards, opening herself. Yes, his penis would go in with ease. Lucy moved, Lucy straddled and lifted, Lucy settled herself down feeling the hard, male organ slide up into her.

Of course, that awoke Mart and of course he had to complete his husbandly duty before he could go and relieve himself. They did not change positions. Lucy rode him to completion, bringing herself off in the process. Very nice!

"I liked sucking you in the night," she snuggled into his shoulder after they had come apart, her voice soft and close to his ear.

"Did you?"

"Mmmm, beside the bed, when you stood there."

"Really?"

"Yeah, sucking you until you came."

"I think you were dreaming. I'd have remembered that."

Lucy rather thought he would. It was puzzling.

Mart was a rather keener walker than she and she let him go off, readily agreed that he should go for a long walk by himself the next day. It left her to potter about and read. She might go for a little walk, might even take herself to bed for a nap in the afternoon. A very lazy day but one she liked on occasion.

Waving Mart goodbye, Lucy was conscious she was alone in the cottage by herself for the first time. Such a lovely cottage, perfectly furnished and equipped and in such a lovely position. Lucy walked back up the stairs in her nightdress and got back into bed to read a little before getting up properly. She looked out of the window. Mart was going to have a good day for walking, perhaps a bit hot, but that did not seem to bother him much.

She looked at the photo of Old Clem on the chest of drawers. She had put it back in the hall so why had Mart brought it back up again? Or did it bring itself. She smiled at the fancy.

She wondered what the cottage had been like before it had been done up as a holiday cottage. What it had been like in Old Clem's day - actually only last year? Quite a bit of the furniture was clearly the same. Given his undoubted reputation as a 'ladies' man,' what had those mirrors reflected?

She was almost self-conscious as she pulled her nightdress up over her head and prepared to head for a shower. Her hair needed washing and she had, after all, been masturbating with Mart that morning. It was ridiculous being self-conscious whilst alone in a house. Photographs could not see, mirrors did reflect but did not remember and there was nobody else there to see her naked body as she stepped out onto the landing. In front of her by the stairs was another mirror and she looked at herself standing there. Lucy Alton - no, she was Alton no more but Summers, Mrs. Lucy Summers, wife of Martin. All of a sudden, she wished he was there not walking. His naked body beside her, his aroused naked body beside her with his penis up in the air. So strong, so firm and with his hanging balls. They could shower together and make love as they showered. The thought of kneeling and sucking his cock whilst he washed her hair rather pleasing.

It was not that she was frightened but she just had that feeling of being watched. There was, of course, nobody at the windows, but yet... She smiled, perhaps it was Old Clem. She could not really see him being cross that somebody else was in his cottage. Everything she had heard suggested a kind man and certainly one who liked women. If he was haunting the cottage, he was not going to harm her - now was he? And if he still liked to peek at young, naked brides well, good luck to him.

Lucy lifted her breasts up and waggled them, "How's that?" she asked out loud.

She did not quite have the feeling of someone else in the shower with her but there was just the occasional touch that did not seem to be quite the water or her own hands.

"You naughty man," she giggled, "you shouldn't do that!" She was making a joke of it all. And why not? The reality was she was not at all worried, not even a bit nervous or 'spooked.'

The day passed uneventfully. Lucy took her book and a packet of sandwiches up onto a bench on the hills and was surprised by how many dog walkers went past that spot. She spoke to quite a few, including a lovely little old lady with a chocolate Labrador. Again, the lady knew Old Clem and talked about how he had helped her out with DIY things and fetched and carried when she had been laid up in bed for a time with a broken leg. "Helped me with all sorts of things," she had said. Lucy had wondered at the twinkle in her eye. What else had Old Clem helped her with in bed?

It was coming down the path by the cottage that Lucy tripped and almost fell. It was just so not the place to trip and fall, not with the sharp rocks just there. It was very nearly a fall yet arrested by a sudden - well it felt like that - hand to her arm. There had been, though, no one there when she turned in fright and with thanks. She was completely alone.

The time for afternoon tea came and Lucy found herself having set out two cups on saucers, yet Mart was not due back for a couple more hours. She had not really put out a cup for Old Clem had she?

She only carried the one into the garden and sat at a table looking out over the view. It was such a warm afternoon, no breeze to disturb the warmth. Lucy leant back and closed her eyes, drifting into sleep. How nice to have a little doze in the afternoon sunshine.

Lucy awoke with her head back on the chair and the feeling of two hands gently moulding her breasts within her blouse. It was a loose blouse, and she was not wearing a brassiere. It was a nice feeling. Her nipples were erect and the palms of the hands were lightly brushing them. A tingling and so sexual feeling. Had Martin come back early?

"Mart?" Lucy opened her eyes and the hands were gone. She stood and looked around her but all there was to see was the pretty garden, the old cottage and the wonderful view.

A little later, Lucy decided on a bath. Mart had said he would be back from his walk by about six and Lucy thought she would be particularly fragrant and fresh for him. She came downstairs in a dress. under it she was knickerless and, again, without brassiere. She was sure he would feel her as soon as he came in the door, and that was completely her intention, though she would send him to shower first before they really did 'anything' much. He would be all sweaty and whilst that might be manly it was still smelly!

The prospect of sex with her new husband pleased her; indeed, more than pleased her; it aroused her. Under her dress and between her legs she was already wet. She stood looking out of the kitchen window to see if Mart was in sight, her hands resting on the pine table. Perhaps after all she might let him 'take her' as soon as he came in, not wait for the shower. Just roughly take her from behind. Lucy lent forward onto the table imagining Mart lifting her dress and penetrating her from behind, her husband's cock hard and strong, taking her in the way of the animals. She closed her eyes. She was rather aroused. Had Old Clem taken his wife that way, or other women?

She felt the touch of hands to her dress, the raising of the material and its careful folding over her hips. A careful display of her bottom to whomsoever was behind her. It was gentler than Mart was likely to have been. She knew it was not Mart, she had not seen him approach and knew, rather, if she opened her eyes and turned there would be nobody there. She had not heard the door to the cottage open. She knew full well who it was or who it had been. She knew very well it was the shade, the ghost of Old Clem doing what he had always done. Lucy felt warm hands on her naked hips and then the slow rising of a penis into her vagina and its movement.

It was what she had been looking forward to, only she had rather anticipated it would be her husband's penis that penetrated. It did not feel like she was dreaming. She let it run for a minute or more and then opened her eyes but did not look back, did not look down.

Outside through the window, coming closer, Lucy could see her new husband. What a fine figure of a man he was, back from his long walk, his long strides taking him closer and closer to her. Behind her the feel of another man joined sexually to her, pushing and pulling within her vagina. A very clear and real sensation of movement inside her. Her husband was getting closer with every step, and then he waved. Behind her, within her, the steady purposeful rhythm of a man at work copulating. She did not look behind her, though she could see just the hint of a reflection in the glass of the window, enough to recognise. She heard a hand on the door to the cottage and then the sound of an opening door as she felt that spurting feeling within her she had come to know so well.

"Lucy! What a nice surprise." Her husband stood at the kitchen doorway looking at her with her dress rucked up and her naked bottom. "You know that is just what I have been thinking about this last mile."

The feeling of a penis hard inside her had just melted away. Mart came up behind her and she heard the sound of a zip coming down. Mart had wasted no time and the replacement organ was within her within seconds. Had Mart been 'hard' walking towards her or become so as he saw her? It was good thinking of her man thinking of her as he walked, desiring her, looking forward to finding her back at the cottage. His hands slipped under her and into her dress to fondle her hanging breasts. Lucy had meant him to shower first but being taken by her husband still dressed in his walking gear, casually taken across the kitchen table gave her a certain thrill, a thrill of being needed and 'used.'

She had been close to coming just looking out of the window and feeling, if she really had been, Old Clem's ghostly penis. It did not take Mart much to bring her off. Indeed, he was rather surprised to find his wife coming not once but a second time before he had made his 'deposit' within her.

Lucy stayed bent over the kitchen table whilst Mart went to take his shower. Modestly he had pulled down her dress, but it had not been him who had raised it. After a time she arose and climbed the stairs. On the landing the old rocking chair was moving. Not a lot, but it was certainly not still. It was an item of furniture that had almost certainly been Old Clem's. Most likely his favourite chair, perhaps previously in the kitchen in front of the Aga, but now banished so as not to be 'in the way' of visitors staying in the holiday cottage. Perhaps Mart had set it in motion as he had walked past. But that had been a few minutes before, surely?

The couple made love again in bed that night. Two people between the sheets, kissing, fondling and becoming one. Lucy had liked burrowing down under the bed clothes and finding her husband's erection. She had fondled and then sucked it in the warm darkness. So good to take between her lips, so big and strong and manly. So good to hold his balls, feel their delicate shape in her hand, as she sucked. Mart had done the same to her before they had moved on to copulation. It was all what lovers did before sleep.

The early hours found Lucy waking from a most vivid dream and then getting up to go across the landing to 'pay a visit.'

Lucy paused on the way back from the bathroom. Her dream had been very sexual. She was still aroused, as she felt her way back to her bed in the darkness. She, all at once, felt a naked man behind her, his erection pressing into the crack of her bottom. It neither made her jump nor surprised her. Perhaps her dream had prepared her or made her receptive. She knew it was not Mart but that did not worry her. It was not her husband but, there again, it was not anyone, just the memory of a man who had lived in the cottage, a naughty man, indeed. Lucy stood and let herself be used there on the cottage's landing in the dark. Nobody was having sexual intercourse with Mart's new bride, he had no need to worry.

Lucy leant forward feeling for the jambs of the doorway to her bedroom, making it easier for her to be entered. She felt the hardness of a male organ pushing and entering her. Her dream had aroused her, she was 'ready' for such things. Her hands were not touching, they were supporting her at the doorway, but other hands were at her breasts, once more playing with her nipples, stroking the smooth rounded skin. Lucy had been aroused in her dream, the steady pushing of the penis within her excited her the more, the hands in the utter darkness to her breasts brought her closer and closer to orgasm.

Within her she felt the release of semen just as her own orgasm broke. It added to the feelings as she clung to the doorframe for support as the spasms of her orgasm ran through her.

Unlike the previous 'encounter' over the kitchen table the feeling of a penis within her did not just melt away. Its movement stopped but she felt it still there, a firmness within her and then, just as Mart's did, its substance slowly ebbed and she felt the penis fall out of her and then the touch to her skin, the feeling of a man pressing against her bottom was gone. Behind her she heard the rocking chair beginning to move. It was time she was tucked up and asleep next to her husband.

Lucy awoke again in the night and lay still beside Mart. His gentle breathing showed he was not yet awake. Her thoughts were of Old Clem. How could they not be after the events of the day before? Was his ghost really haunting the cottage in such an unexpected way? It was hardly the feel of icy fingers, the clanking of chains or a sudden chill in a room as someone or something walked through a wall. It was all so different. Lucy could not, did not feel, scared one little bit. Did other visitors find the same, did he visit them, or did they just read about the old occupant and see his picture and wonder a little about what he had been like and how the cottage had been. Did they simply think it was rather 'nice' that the family had wanted to leave something of Old Clem about the cottage? There was mention of happy days in the past, of parties, singing and wine in the garden in the cottage details. Unsurprisingly there was no mention that he had not quite departed.

She, though, was having rather more a personal experience, an intimate experience of the old boy. She found it rather sweet. So unthreatening. Had Mart noticed anything? She would ask.

Mart, though, had seen and felt nothing. He was concerned Lucy was frightened. Was good enough not to make a joke about it. He asked about what she had seen. She had not liked, given he had seen nothing, to go into her rather more intimate experiences. She mentioned seeing the old boy outside but he had said it was probably somebody else; had mentioned the moving rocking chair but he had said he had sat in it several times and often set it rocking; she mentioned she had felt being touched and he had suggested it might have been cobwebs, though the cottage was spotless, or even a cat. She had assured him she was 'all right,' that she loved the cottage and hoped they would visit again one day.

A honeymoon couple are likely to engage in sexual intercourse more often than later in their relationship. Lucy and Mart were not like rabbits, but they rather did their best. Mart's penis kept finding its way into Lucy and certainly her arousal was as strong as his own. Having realised they were not exactly alone in the cottage, Lucy found herself experiencing Old Clem more and more. Had his shade become attuned to her, or was it quite the other way around and she was calling him up to satisfy her own need?

In the darkness of their bedroom Lucy and Mart made love, sometimes under the sheets, sometimes above. How nice for Lucy to know as Mart took her from behind in the way of the animals that beside the bed, unseen and inches from her mouth was another penis as hard and ready as the one working her from behind. How good to lean that little bit further forward on her hands and knees in the darkness and feel the smooth, taut skin of an erect penis bump her lips and to open and absorb it into her mouth. Lovely to feel her lips sliding up and down the shaft as Mart pushed at her from the rear, his penis sliding in her vagina, his hands on her hips but her mouth sucking another man's penis - perhaps all there was in the darkness was the materialised penis, was it just hanging there for her to suck?

How good to feel both penises spurting, one at each end, as she came. Lucy as a little, wet, orgasming filling between the sandwich of the two male organs.

Another afternoon, having returned to the cottage and after a restorative cup of tea, Mart had said quite casually how very nice she looked in her dress, had said what a pretty wife he had and that he would like to fuck her there and then. It surprised her a little - but not a lot. Her acquiescence had resulted in him stripping there and then.

"Somebody might see," she had hissed, so conscious she had a naked and tumescent man by her side in the kitchen pushing his penis towards her mouth as she sat at the table. Surely anyone looking in at the kitchen window might see.

Mart had led her by the hand up the stairs. A clothed young woman and a naked man and he had sat on the rocking chair and pulled her to sit on his lap. He had not pulled her knickers down but merely aside as she had settled herself on his lap and they had gently rocked to and fro looking out of the landing window at the countryside. They sat on Old Clem's rocker talking quietly and admiring the view, reviewing the day as Mart had rocked them to and fro, moving his penis gently within her. What a pleasant way to review the day!