Chesterbury Tales Pt. 03bysarahloveitt©
It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.
Chapter Three : The Partners Arrive
By the time the evening came at the 'Travellers' Rest', only four couples were there, Susan and George being the last of them. Three other couples had phoned to make their apologies. However, it would still be a cosy gathering, even though the main organiser of these special week-ends was one of those unable to make it.
The guests always dressed for dinner on these occasions, grouping themselves round the blazing log fires at each end of the room. There was a snug feeling of contentment amongst the guests as they sat nursing their cocktails, reminiscing about snow storms of earlier years. Although the Profumo affair was mentioned in passing, it was not considered polite to enquire into any detail in the presence of the minister.
It had already turned dark outside, the snow driving into deep drifts. Talk turned to the winter of '47, when the door suddenly burst open. Two snow covered figures were silhouetted on the threshold, snow flakes whirling in behind them.
Robert leapt to his feet. 'My God! Nanook of the North! Come to the fire for goodness sake and get warm.'
He closed the door before helping the couple off with their snow-caked outer clothes. Whilst removing her coat, Robert took a good look at the lady.
'A shapely woman,' he thought. It must, however, be said that Robert's first reflection on meeting any woman for the first time was to speculate what her naked body would be like; the shape of her breasts and thighs. A close study her face, the mouth in particular, might give a clue to the shape and size of her vulva. This one was wide and full. Robert wondered if the lady enjoyed a good fuck.
'They usually do,' he thought, 'though not always.' Robert was always willing to oblige anything feminine between the ages of sixteen and sixty. 'Not a great beauty, perhaps, but otherwise ...!'
'Thank goodness we made it.' She shivered, interrupting his thoughts as she struggled out of her coat. 'I'm afraid the car got stuck about half a mile from here and I vaguely remembered there being a village somewhere round here.'
Mary took her coat, eyeing her up and down as the visitor shook her hair loose.
'Ah!,' Robert warned, 'that's another mile up the road. You'd never have made it. Not in this weather. Where are you making for?'
Jake handed his outer coat and hat also to Mary with a smile of approval, which she returned as their eyes met and held each other for a moment. There was promise in both their eyes.
'I think I'd better introduce myself. I'm Emma Shaw and this is Jake Castle. I'm the company manager of a touring theatre company and Jake is one of our actors. I was supposed to take him to join the company for tonight's performance in Manchester. May I use you 'phone please? They'll be wondering what's happened to us.'
'Certainly,' he said taking her hand. 'I'm Robert, your host. I'll show you where the phone is.'
Before Emma made her call, she was assured that rooms were available for them both because of cancellations. She and Jake were welcome to them. Julie was brought in to meet the new guests. An immediate jolt stabbed her in her gut as she took Jake's hand.
'A black stallion,' she thought! 'I shall enjoy riding him!'
In the same way that Robert speculated about women, Julie's first thought when meeting a new man was to speculate on his physical attributes. The size, texture and hardness of his prick; how he performed in the fucking department. Whilst Julie was scheming how to get Jake into her bed, Emma was busy telephoning the theatre. Robert was working out how to get the overnight cases from the abandoned car. He asked Jake if he was able to use snow shoes.
'It so happens that, in spite of my colour, I am quite a good skier. I had to learn to move around in deep snow for an adventure film I was in a couple of years ago.'
Jake was a milk-chocolate coloured young man of South African origin, with a powerful physique. He had an open, friendly smile, with smoky dark eyes, close-cropped curly hair and a firm jaw. Robert asked Mary to pour stiff brandies for the newcomers, saying he would change into some suitable clothing so that they could get into the snow skis and rescue the baggage from the car.
Having spoken to the stage manager of the company in Manchester, Emma came back from the reception desk, settled by the fire with the large brandy, and looked around. It was cosy and comfortable. She was slightly taken aback by the subject matter of the Rowlandson prints, but made no outward reaction to them, smiling at Robert with tired eyes. Her eyes glanced down at his crotch, her idle imagination speculating what might be hidden there.
Robert noticed her quick glance. He interrupted her thoughts. 'Come! Let me introduce the other guests. This is Enid and this, Laurie.'
The prim, rather stiff couple, said Hello! to Emma and Jake. Enid, small, very beautiful in a doll-like way behind those unflattering spectacles which only served to accentuate the daintiness of her features, smiled warmly. Emma thought she recognised Laurie. He looked familiar to her. She was sure that she had seen him before somewhere but hadn't time to think about it before she and Jake were introduced to the others.
Delia and Martin, a quiet fair haired man with good strong features, large blue eyes, straight nose and square chin. Average of build he was not yet running to fat and was very handsome. He had a quiet, confident air about him. Emma was surprised to see Delia. A popular TV presenter, she was a willowy blonde with features not unlike Marilyn Monroe. Mysterious blue eyes, a generous sensuous mouth and pointed chin. She held her head high with a tendency to look down her nose with a slightly dignified air.
Later, Emma would be impressed by Delia's poise and dignity off screen. But right now, her generous bust was shown to full advantage in an exquisite dress.
'It must have cost a packet,' she thought. She would learn later that Martin was the marketing director for a large international food manufacturer, whilst Delia was the second daughter of a Earl. Both smiled sweetly at Emma and Jake.
Susan was an irrepressibly jolly lady, full of bounce and laughter, with long, red, almost copper-coloured hair flowing down to her shoulders. She had green eyes and a small upturned nose, set in a round face. Julie recognised her as the new best-selling writer. Her husband, George, was confidently attractive, with brown eyes that twinkled at her and a soft seductive voice. They looked to be in their late-thirties, Emma thought. The last couple to be introduced were Bill and Gertie.
'He looks very much like the famous fashion designer,' Emma thought. He smiled at her warmly, taking her hand and looking into her eyes. He wore an elegant, midnight blue dinner suit, was very suave, well-built and fairly tall. Emma thought him very good-looking with his tanned face and thick curly fair hair. She felt a spark of magnetism flash between them.
His partner, Gertie had a flawless, olive skin with a healthy sheen. A strikingly beautiful face, with large, innocent dark brown eyes set wide apart a straight nose. The lady's mouth was wide with exquisite lips above a small pointed chin. Her black glossy hair was tied back in a simple pony-tail. Emma thought there could be some Polynesian blood in her. She wore a long flowered evening dress, low cut to promise firm pointed breasts showing a mole on the right one. Her narrow waist gave her figure an hour-glass shape with long, shapely legs.
The host, Robert, was well-tanned with curly auburn hair and a thin moustache.
'He does rather look like Clarke Gable,' Emma thought.
The hostess, Julie, was also well-tanned, suggesting that there was a sun-bed in regular use. She looked seductive and sexy in a slinky, copper-coloured, long satin dress to complement her shoulder-length, dark-auburn tresses. The gleam in her eyes, as she smiled up at Jake, revealed her inner excitement.
Introductions over, Emma apologised for interrupting their party.
'It's obviously a special affair. Everyone looks so formal and elegant.'
Julie laughed. 'Not really. It's tasteful to dress properly for dinner from time to time. We always do it on these occasions. I'm sure I can find an evening gown for you to wear at dinner. It's as well to be like the rest of us, then you won't feel out of place. I'll look some things out for you and leave them on your bed whilst you have a hot bath. I'm sure you're ready for one. And I'm sure Robert can find a dinner suit which should fit Jake fairly well.'
Julie took Emma to her room. Here again, she was bemused by the large picture illustrating a Kama Sutra couple both of whom looked completely unmoved by their coital position, which didn't surprise Emma since it looked to her rather uncomfortable, if not impossible.
The accommodation impressed her and, whilst the baggage was being collected by Robert and Jake, she ran a hot foam bath. At the side of the wash basin she noticed an upright black plastic penis on a base of generous testicles. She smiled as she picked it up to find that it was a liquid soap dispenser. Pointing it into the palm of her other hand, she squeezed the testicles to squirt a jet of white soap from the head. She laughed to herself with a twinge of arousal at the thought it provoked.
After the stress of the difficult journey through the blizzard, together with the worry of not getting Jake to the theatre for the evening performance, now thankfully cancelled due to the weather, a soak in a hot bath was a luxury. The warmth permeating her body, helped her to relax the tension in mind and limbs.
But, once again, Rick intruded into her thoughts. She cursed herself for getting involved with him. He was a fine actor with a bewitching, mellow voice and an attractive, innocent personality. It was a lethal combination, which she supposed is what she fell for. She couldn't deny having enjoyed the sex. But to disgrace her bed - their bed - by fucking that silly young Jenny Carver on it was unforgivable.
Emma closed her eyes to let the luxury of the hot water seep through her. Her thoughts recalled that evening of surprises, when she was home from college earlier than expected for Christmas. Her mother had always been a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky lady. As a leading light in the local operatic society, her charms were admired by all the men; old and young alike!
As a young girl, Emma had often sat on the edge of her parents' bed, watching her mother dress to go out for the evening to the theatre. She envied her those gorgeous creamy breasts, with saucer-shaped summits. They were carefully positioned in the white bra cups, one at a time. Then she would step into her silk, pastel-coloured French knickers, before pulling on an under-slip.
Well, now Emma had creamy breasts of her own. In the warm bath, her hand slipped unthinkingly between her thighs, prodding its forefinger under the little hood to caress her clitoris. In times of stress and tension Emma found that massaging her tender button relaxed her, both in mind and body.
Her mind went back to the evening she stumbled on the sexual activities of parents. She recalled the scene. For some reason she couldn't now remember, Emma was in their darkened lounge as a car drew into the drive before the front door. Its lights were extinguished and the engine turned off. The lamp over the front door illuminated her mother being embraced by a man Emma didn't recognise.
Slumped back in the passenger seat with her companion, whose hand was down the top of her dress, fondling her mother's soft breast and kissing her scarlet mouth. Emma couldn't make out what her mother's hand was doing in her companion's lap; to her astonishment, she realised it was stroking the man's cock!
After a few moments, head-lights of another car swung into the drive. Her mother and the driver quickly got out of the car, slamming the doors shut. She didn't know why, but Emma didn't wish to be found at home just yet. She felt to be an intruder. Running swiftly to the top of the darkened staircase in her bare feet, she leaned over the banister, straining her ears.
The front door opened; some urgent whispers before her mother's rippling laugh called out a welcome to more people tumbling from the cars arriving in the drive. Lots of laughter as several people stumbled into the hall. They took off hats and coats, handing over bottles of beer and wine. The whiff of cool air and cigar smoke reached Emma on the landing.
From the refuge of her bedroom, Emma had often listened to the sound of the parties below. Laughter and songs as doors opened and closed. Her bedroom was at the end of the upper landing, just beyond the bathroom. She usually drifted off to sleep without difficulty. But, that night, the image of her mother being kissed, her breast fondled by a stranger, kept her mind in a whirl.
She was still trying to work it all out in her head, when she was startled by low voices outside her door. Emma was so deep in thought, she hadn't heard anyone coming up the staircase. Was she dreaming?
'No, Joe! What if someone comes?' A breathless low voice.
'We'll hear them coming. If they do, you just go down the stairs and I'll nip into the bathroom.' A man's whisper.
A gasp. 'Oh, you beast! If you keep touching me like that, I'll ...' But Emma never heard what the outcome of being touched like that would be. The voice tailed off into a long sigh amidst the rustling of taffeta.
'Just open your legs, darling; just for a minute.' Joe's voice was distinctly begging. 'You shouldn't have turned me on in the car, you prick teaser!'
'No!' A warning whisper. 'We mustn't! I'm longing for it myself, Joe, but...' And there was another sigh and rustling of taffeta.
'These are very accommodating knickers.'
Emma had her ear against the door by this time, listening avidly to the hushed exchange. Just to the left of Emma's door, on this side of the bathroom, there was a deep storage alcove. It was a good hide-away. She assumed that's where they were.
A sigh. 'Ooh! When you touch me there... Gosh! Shall we go into the bedroom? Then I can feel you more easily?'
'Too risky. No escape route.'
'Hurry, then, Joe. But let me feel it first. Gosh! I'd forgotten how long it is. Ooh! Go on! Put it in!'
'Wait! I want a good feel of your fanny, first. Your gorgeous, wet, slippery fanny.' Stifled grunts, moans and groans.
'Do it now! I can't wait, Joe. Put it in now! Please!'
A pause. A rustle. A sigh.
'Ooh, yes! It's in! That's great.' Joe's soft voice.
All this passed to the background of laughter and music from below. The heavy rhythmic panting went on.
'You're fantastic, Jane!'
Emma's realised with a sudden blow that it was her mother out there!
'Humph! Humph! Humph! Humph! You're soaking wet! Can I get one of your tits out? Let's suckle a nipple!'
'S-h-h-h! Not so loud.' More heavy breathing. 'Come on Joe! Quick! I'm ready. I'm coming! Ah-h-h-h-h!' A long strangled sigh.
'Argh!' A gruff muffled cry.
'Ah, uh -uh -uh -uh!' Her mother's quick staccato grunts reminded Emma of her own orgastic choking sounds under the sheets of her bed.
A swish of clothes. The door to the bathroom opened and closed. Silence!
Holding her breath, Emma turned the handle and eased her door open with the slightest of gaps. She peered through at the bathroom door. She listened, agog. After the toilet flushed the bathroom door opened and, sure enough, her mother emerged, smoothing down her dress as she went to the half-landing. She paused there to take a deep breath before going back down the stairs.
It seemed like ages before Emma heard another person coming up the stairs. It was her smiling auntie Julie, giggling softly, looking unsteady, holding on to the banister rail. She disappeared into the bathroom. After about half a minute, the sound of someone else coming up the stairs. As they turned onto the upper landing she saw that was her father!
To Emma's amazement, he unbuttoned the flies of his trousers as he silently approached the bathroom door. He gave it one light tap. A second's pause. The door opened. Auntie Julie stepped out, threw her arms round her father, kissing him hard. He pushed her against the banister, dragging the hem of her dress up. There was plenty of light spilling from the bathroom for Emma to notice that her aunt was not wearing knickers just as her father took his stiff shaft in one hand, stuffing it between the bare thighs. Emma didn't get a proper look. It was covered by his hand. But it sank immediately between her aunt's hairy gash as her knees folded wide open. She pulled aside the top of her dress, exposing her bare breasts.
'Kiss them! James! Ooh!' Deep breaths. 'You've got a wonderful cock. Give it to me fast and hard!'
With wide, unbelieving eyes, Emma watched as her father fastened his mouth on one of the drooping breasts - smaller and less firm than her mother's - his hips bucking heavily against her aunt's half-slumped body, dress tucked up round her waist. Apart from the occasional mutter of 'Yes! Yes!' from her Aunt, neither said anything, but sighed and whimpered and gasped and grunted.
Her Aunt's thighs pushed forward to meet his thrusts. After about three minutes, her father's hips lurched erratically with violent thrusts. A sigh of relief. Emma watched the bodies part and she looked in awe as the glistening shaft emerged. They kissed quickly before her father slipped into the bathroom whilst her aunt smoothed her dress on her way downstairs.
Emma was dumbfounded by these revelations. Unable to sleep, she heard the guests depart. Cars drove away down the gravel. Shortly afterwards, her parents stumbled up the staircase, laughing softly. Applying an eye to the crack in her door, Emma watched them sway onto the upper landing. Their bedroom was opposite the bathroom. Her mother was giggling uncontrollably, her father chuckling.
Her mother's dress was pulled up at the back, her father tugging at something, whilst she kept trying to knock his hands away. They staggered into the bedroom. There was the sound of the springs as something fell on the bed. Then her mother's subdued rippling laughter and father's chuckle.
'Come on, Jane, let's get you out of these clothes. You drunken whore!' His voice was subdued.
Sounds of a struggle and laughter. Rustling, a slapping sound, more laughter.
A fierce whisper. 'You beast! Get off! I'm tired James. Wait until the morning? Let me get into bed.'
'No! Besides, you're only teasing. You've been teasing me all evening, flashing your tits at the men. I thought old Ken would have a heart attack when you flaunted your cleavage under his face. He was itching to see those nipples. And I could see Joe's prick like a tent pole! You randy whore! Open your legs!'
'Oh, James! No, don't! You can't lick it tonight.' Sounds of a light struggle. 'No!'
'Come on! You'll love it, darling! You always do.' A short silence.
A sigh. 'Mmmmmm! I do love it James, but you're a beast. You know I can't resist that. Ooh! Aaah!'
'You taste salty tonight darling,' her father muttered. 'Whose sperm is that I can taste? Bet it's Joe's?'
With her heart in her mouth, Emma had opened her door and slipped quietly on to the landing. Her parent's door was open. So eager was her father to get her mother onto the bed, he hadn't bothered to close it yet. A bedside lamp was lit at her mother's side. It had been left on all the evening.
In the triple mirror of the dressing table in front of their window, Emma could see her father kneeling at the foot of the bed, his head buried between her mother's wide-open thighs. The legs were still encased in silk stockings, though the suspenders were unfastened.