The Playboy Inheritance

"Yeah, right now it is. So good luck with everything," I said.

"And you, too." I saw then that she'd been weeping. Still sniffling, Alexis kissed me and clung to me hard for a long moment. My stomach churning, I carried her bags out to the van, where the family and staff had gathered. We said our goodbyes, and feeling empty, I watched Barney drive the last of my new family down the tree lined drive, and through the gate.

I walked into my office, opened the computer, and tried to deal with my sadness by working on my other worries. How could I save myself from going broke? The rest of the hotel's season was gone, and if international borders stayed shut long, the next year would be so thin I'd lose less money remaining closed a second year. Yet the grounds and buildings had to be maintained, and I owed the bank money.

But the farm was almost debt free. Its income might survive quite well, and if I went and worked beside Barney, there seemed a good chance we could scrape through. Caught up in the figures, I began working through different scenarios. I was still engrossed when I heard Barney bring the minibus back down the drive. As I walked onto the veranda, I heard not one door slam, but two.

"Damn airlines. They canned my flight, then bounced me from one queue to the next. I'm stuck!" Ursula was white faced, caught between anger and desperation. "I'm sorry, but can I stay another night while I sort it out? I'm happy to pay."

"Don't worry about the money. The staff's gone, so we're down from five stars to one. Your daiquiris will be do-it-yourself."

Ursula smiled wryly. "Thanks, I appreciate it. What I need most is a connection so I can finally get a flight out sorted."

"Take the front bungalow. It's beside me if you need help. Francis left a heap of food, and I can knock together a meal tonight. Want to start with a drink about seven?"

"Sounds good. But how about it's me that cooks for you? I'm not too bad -- just ask Geraldine."

"Who's Geraldine?"

"My horse. She's mad for my bran mash and turnips."

So, Ursula could laugh at herself.

xxxx

We had a drink in the Aroha Nui kitchen, while Ursula found her way round it, and calmly began assembling ingredients. "I did a few kitchen jobs to pay the rent," she explained. "Riding's only been full time the last five years. But I don't know what's next with the Olympics. Do you think Tokyo will still happen?

"I've no idea. You'd know better."

"I don't think they can cancel because there's so much gone into it. Besides this will be my last chance for it. Same with Geraldine." While she worried, she put together a nice-looking mushroom risotto. I pulled a red from the hotel cellar, and we sat down together in the empty dining room.

But the clock was ticking for Ursula. Within 48 hours it was clear it would be weeks, perhaps months, before she could get clear of airline lockdowns, and home to Copenhagen. As the days past she spoke regularly with the minders at her stable about food and exercise -- and I twice heard her insist they take the phone to her horse, so that the mare could hear her voice. And Ursula had worrying talks with the Danish equestrian team's management. They wanted three riders and horses to contest the dressage medal, and while two were safely home, Ursula's absence meant they may have to replace her..

Meanwhile the Tokyo's Olympic management insisted the games would proceed. But I thought they were fantasizing. "It will get postponed a year, so your place in the team will be okay," I told her hopefully.

New Zealand had been quarantined into what its government called "bubbles" -- bubbles which couldn't have any direct contact with each other. People were confined within family and household bubbles. Most businesses except grocery stores were closed. Almost all travel - even visiting the local park - was forbidden. The farm and the deserted hotel became one bubble, and Ursula and I spent evenings at the hotel, or with Barney and the four workers and wives, who'd stayed on in the farm's two houses.

Ursula was distant and absorbed with her problems. But she was "handy" with small jobs, she helped readily when asked, and she took her turn cooking. She'd ignored our small stable, but after a fortnight accepted my invitation to look at the three horses we kept on the farm.

"So, which one's your favourite?" she asked.

"Starsky is steady, and he has a good turn of speed. Daisy is just like she sounds -- very placid," I said. "Then there's Jinx. Barney's been thrown badly by him, and neither of us ride him now. Jinx is a thoroughbred who's raced, but he's becoming an outlaw."

To prove my point, Jinx snorted and pawed at the ground as we approached. He was a black stallion, 18 hands tall, and he reared, hooves flailing, when Ursula, with bridle in hand, clicked open the gate. At first, she stood stock still, then began talking soft nonsense to him. Jinx huffed and stood his ground, tense and suspicious. Then something clicked for him. He tossed his head, stalked up to her, and decided to let her stroke his face. Next, he nuzzled her hand and - in the space of a minute -- Jinx had lost his heart to Ursula. He pretty much begged to be saddled.

I took Starsky out of his stall, and in five minutes we were down on the beach. We walked companionably side by side, but the tide was down, and firm smooth sand stretched enticingly to the end of the bay.

We moved up to a canter. "Give them a stretch?" Ursula asked, I nodded, and we were off. Jinx galloped to the lead, and I settled in behind, finding myself glad to stay there. Ursula was poetry on a horse. She'd set her stirrups short, so she had her head down and backside high. I watched her petite butt bob up and down in front of me in perfect time. In motion she was so stunning it was almost pornographic.

We pulled up at the end of the bay. Ursula was hardly breathing, but I was panting. "We'd better just canter a bit," she offered and turned to head back down the beach. Jinx has a smooth gait, and after two hundred metres, I saw Ursula kick her feet from the stirrups. In a moment she was standing on the saddle, her hands beating like a butterfly, as she got her balance. That done, she went up onto just the one leg - her arms wide, bobbing time - for about fifty paces.

Then she slipped back down to the saddle, and spun around to face me riding Jinx backwards, a mischievous smile radiating from her face. I pulled Starsky up beside her. "I thought you just did dressage. Where on earth did you learn the stunt stuff?" I asked.

"I ran away with the circus when I was ten."

"Really," I said, stunned.

"Kidding, you dope," said Ursula laughing. "Mind you a circus might be fun. Who knows where we'll both end up after Covid? You could give up your hotel and join me as a lion tamer?" She leaned across and to my astonishment, pecked my cheek. Ursula then spun Jinx round and galloped him full tilt back to the stable. Her ass teased me all the way.

xxxx

Ursula was still a worried woman, but the edge was disappearing as she helped around the place and joined the farm family for meals. The lockdown had added a comrades-in-this-together feeling to the group, and I was becoming more confident we'd work through the Covid crisis.

Three days after we'd ridden the beach, the weather turned chilly, and Ursula offered to cook in my "owner's bungalow" which was only twenty feet from the room she'd occupied. I brought wood in and lit up the first fire since summer. I answered the door when she knocked, and what seemed like a different Ursula entered. The tension had slipped from her shoulders. She looked appreciatively at the fire and pushed her phone in front of my face.

"Read this text out - I want to make sure I'm not imagining it," she asked.

"Sure," I said, taking the phone. "All it says is: 'Postponed till 21. Line-up unchanged. Juliana Janzen.' Who is Juliana Janzen?"

"She's assistant to our Equestrian boss. She's saying I'm safe for the Olympics. There' s no official word out yet, but they've put Tokyo back a year." She did a joyful skip. "Hey, have you got champagne."

"The six o'clock news is starting," I said, heading to the kitchen to find a bottle. When the newsreader led with the Tokyo postponement, Ursula called Copenhagen. Smiling with delight she finished her conversation, and then raised her glass to me.

"To the best brother," she said. "Alexis told me all along you were a great guy."

"Best brother? Why?"

"I don't know how I'd have got by without you. I was so scared, and here you were, always calm, always ready to help. And letting me share your piece of paradise. God, this place is heaven on a stick. You must know that?"

"Right now, it's a bloody expensive heaven on a stick," I grumped, secretly pleased with what she'd said. "And I don't know what to do with this damn brother sister thing," I added. "It's new and it's odd. It feels right but it feels wrong. It's..." I paused, not sure where to take my private, awkward thoughts. One part of me was glad I was discovering my sister, another part of me wished she wasn't family.

Ursula was staring into the fire. "Alexis says we look like twins. But I know what you mean about 'confusing.' I like you being my brother, but then again, I..." She couldn't find the right words either, so she sat up straight and brushed the subject aside. "Hey, I'm cooking. I'd better get started."

But the genie was out of the bottle, and the question hung. The bungalow has a kitchen lounge, and we buried the sibling subject during dinner, and drank a glass too many. Ursula wanted to know about my upbringing and my time playing the golf tour. How well had I known Ricky? I heard about her mother, and the horse eventing stepfather who had influenced her life.

Like me, Ursula got helped by a Ricky cheque. I quizzed her on the intricacies of dressage riding, and eventually she ran out of words. "We're all crazies, but think about it like this," she concluded. "It's done to music, so it's a bit like Dancing With The Stars, except your partner has four legs."

"Lucky partner," I murmured. Maybe she heard.

"Let's put our feet up by the fire," she suggested.

I put more wood on, set Spotify to a jazz collection, and sat back on the couch with my sister, wondering if I could maybe put my arm around her. She sat neither close nor distant. We talked, but we were in no man's land. Ursula got up to refill our coffees, and when she sat down again, it seemed she'd moved a touch closer.

I reached my arm around her. Ursula stiffened - then sighed, and settled back, her head on my shoulder. "I'm not sure about this, but here we are," she whispered.

I kissed her softly - experimentally. Her lips were neutral, but then she opened them, and pulled herself closer to me. I kissed her more firmly, and the tip of her tongue found mine. We tried it again, this time for longer.

My hand brushed her light sweater and I felt her nipple stiffen. We lay all the way back onto the couch, and Ursula opened her legs a little so that I could move my thigh between hers as we kissed again. I moved my hand up under her top to stroke her breast, and for a while we stayed that way, relaxed and enjoying the soft intimacy.

The hardness of my cock couldn't stay concealed, and Ursula began to push herself against it lightly, then more firmly. Then, looking into my eyes, she reached behind herself and unzipped her skirt, so that I could pull it down her legs. Ursula had long, elegant calves, and noticeably stronger thighs. She reached to my jeans zipper, but it was more to encourage me to take them down myself. That done, I slid back against her, and my cock pushed against the warmth of her pussy through her panties.

Ursula stiffened. "This is crazy," she sighed.

"Is it the sister thing? You want us to stop?"

"Yes, and no. You being my brother makes it kind of wild and turns me on more. Look there's something sexy I always wanted to do, but it's very different, and I'd really have to trust someone. I think I can trust my brother."

"How do you mean?"

"It's a crazy dream of mine. Something I've wanted to try, but it's definitely a bit odd. And till now there's been nobody I felt I could try it with."

"Well?" I said doubtfully.

"Hey, it's not all that bad. Just me and my fantasies - and I've decided you're the right person." She stroked my cock through my underpants. "Can you stay hard for two minutes? I'll be back soon."

Ursula got up from the couch and skittered through the door. From my window I could see she'd turned on her light next door and was moving around behind the curtain. Then my phone rang.

"It's me," she said. "Now listen real close. I want you to take all your clothes off. That's every stitch, right? Then lie by the fire, flat on the carpet, your eyes closed tight. You're to keep them closed, even when you feel me touch you. Right up to the moment I say: 'Open Eyes Wide.' It sounds kinky but can you do this for your sister?"

If my cock could have shouted 'yes" down the phone she'd have been deafened. I mumbled "sure thing," and began taking the rest of my clothes off. I lay down in front of the fire, as she'd instructed. "Are your eyes closed?" I heard from the door.

"Ready and waiting," I said. I heard the clop of shoes on the landing, then there was nothing until I sensed she was close, and I felt her breath on my cock. She caressed it with her fingers, and I felt the tip of her tongue touching its top. Ursula began sucking my cock slowly, but I could feel no other part of her body. Absolutely nothing, except for her mouth, her tongue, the tip of her nose, and her fingers on my balls.

She worked my cock deliciously for a few minutes, and I felt her dripping saliva onto it. Then she stopped.

"You've got to keep your eyes closed tight. Especially now," Ursula directed. I heard her shuffling, then I was aware that leather heels had clasped themselves firmly against the outside of my hips. Her hand took my cock firmly, then began stroking it slowly back and forth against something warm, wet, soft, and delicious.

"Keep your eyes closed. That's my pussy lips if you haven't guessed," breathed Ursula. "Now hold still."

She moved my cock around inside her wet lips, and when I felt it against her hole, I couldn't help myself. I raised my hips and thrust up. Saying nothing, she settled herself down onto the two inches of my cock and began moving her pussy up and down on it.

Two things were very different about fucking Ursula. The first was that apart from the leather boots holding me by my hips, the only part of Ursula I could feel was the inside of her pussy. Not one other part of her body was touching me -- the only contact was the wet first two inches inside her. The second thing I felt was the strength of her pussy muscles - they grabbed firmly at my cock, and worked at it in a strong, sexy rhythm. I could see, hear, or feel nothing else except for her pulling pussy at work, milking at my cock.

"Are you ready to open your eyes?" she asked.

"Whenever," I breathed.

"Okay, then. One, two, three, Eyes Wide Open," she whispered.

Her face, with its perfect features, was a foot from mine. She smiled, and for a moment she seemed uncertain. "So, what do you think of this?" she asked, gesturing at herself.

Ursula was squatting on my cock, dressed in her full Olympic competition outfit. She wore a black half-top hat, a white silk shirt with white stock tie, a black waist fitted riding jacket, white gloves, and knee length leather boots. She'd cut a small gap in the crotch of her silvery skin-tight breeches, and through it I could see tufts of her pussy hair and glistening lips. In her right hand she held a polished black whip.

Ursula sat erect and raised herself so that again, all that was touching me were her boots against my hips, and the first two inches of her pussy. She flicked me lightly with the whip she held -- it stung slightly - and she began moving up and down on my cock more deeply, her pussy muscles working at it. As she rose and fell, she maintained her stiff backed, upright position. I was being ridden by nothing but pussy, heels, and an Olympian.

"I hoped you would like this," she breathed.

"It feels incredible," I said, because it did. "How do you manage all that with just your pussy?" I gasped.

"It's my secret. When I ride, the driving seat is my pussy. Thighs and knees too, but it's my pussy that's my centre. My pussy keeps time, my pussy keeps balance, my pussy is the control centre. When I compete, it's my pussy that leads Geraldine."

Ursula said all this while keeping her posture perfect, but her pussy pumping. She brushed my hip lightly with the whip again. "Hey, keep in time with me," she directed.

I saw her lips purse and her cheeks begin to redden, as with her pussy keeping perfect pace, she grabbed at me even tighter. Suddenly my excited cock could hold out no longer. I began spouting long spurts of cum deep into her clamping pussy, as I writhed underneath and pushed up against her. For a moment I felt she lost her beat too, but she quickly adjusted, and came back onto it.

"You right?" she whispered, still holding herself up in perfect position.

"Certainly am, I'm very right," I sighed.

"Good boy," she whispered. Then I'll be damned if she didn't reach up, take off her hat, turn, and doff it towards her imaginary Olympic judges. Next, she reached down, patted my neck, and said: "Well done James. We've ridden a perfect ten out of ten score -- even though you were naughty at the end."

Ursula held onto her straight face, but then her lips quivered, and she burst into giggles, and fell onto me, kissing me, and laughing. But her pussy still gripped my cock tight.

"Hell, that was even better than my fantasy." She rubbed her nose gently against mine, and asked: "Do you think we could ride in Tokyo too?"

"Only if we practise a lot," I said.

Ursula was unbuttoning her jacket and pulling at her blouse. "Here help me with these. I'm done with fantasy. I want to feel all of you up against me now." She thought for a moment about the boots, but then took those off too. We lay together silent for a while, and then began to make slow love, more conventionally. When we'd finished and settled, we lay together talking. For a long time, into the night. I rose a couple of times to put more wood on the fire, and to bring bedding through into the lounge so that we could drowse in front of the flames.

We woke slowly, and we made love again. Then we made breakfast together. It felt part of a new beginning.

xxxx

I'm writing about Ursula two months after the Covid lockdown began. I have no idea where the pandemic will take us all. Maybe we get a vaccine soon and life will be back to normal in a year. Or maybe it will take much longer. Perhaps you are reading our story with history already having given you the answers.

Of course, regardless of Covid, none of us knows our futures. But when new prospects present themselves, we can try and achieve them. Ursula and I have decided we want a life together. I'd like to be in Tokyo for her. She wants to retire after her shot at an Olympic medal. Ursula says she'd then like to come back to help at my place - the home she calls "heaven on a stick."

But there are problems. We're still in that early besotted "sex rules" stage of our relationship. And I never thought I'd discover that the things my life needed could put me on the wrong side of the law.

If we were to live and love in Ursula's Denmark, we'd have no problems because sex between half siblings there is lawful. But take the night train across the German border to Berlin, and its illegal. In some American states we could do it from the rafters, but in others we'd end up in jail. France, Spain, and Austria are with us as a couple, and the Japanese won't blink.