(Part 01)
Twenty eight year old Paul Ingram was involved with an older woman, a forty year old woman to be precise, who was a beautiful unhappily married, soon to be divorced Carrington Chase educated woman, called Francesca Carrington-Webber.
Paul and Francesca both lived in the village of Forest Dean situated equidistant between Shallowfield and Childean, she lived in a huge house that backed onto the The Forest Ridge Golf Club, and coincidentally Paul worked for the Golf Club.
They became involved after three chance meetings, two on a train and the third more significant one was on the Promenade in Sharpington, where he came upon her small huddled figure on the bench ahead of him in some distress and after some tender moments of consolation lead to them making love in his caravan.
Since that night they had had a non-physical relationship and on the rare occasions that they managed to get to spend some time together they always made the most of it, sometimes they had to create opportunities and sometimes they just happened and sometimes one of them managed to surprise the other but the biggest surprise came on the Halloween weekend when she arrived at his caravan dressed as a witch and announced that not only was she divorcing her husband David but that she was staying the night.
On the rare occasions that they managed to get to spend the night together they always made the most of it but sometimes they had to create opportunities and on occasion it took planning.
But there were even rarer occasions on which there was a combination of the two.
Such as the time they met at the Clayton Manor Hotel on the night of her sisters 4th wedding.
Which began with him gate crashing the wedding reception and ended with him knocking on the door of Francesca’s door and when he was sure the coast was clear.
“Room service” he called and the door opened
“Yes please” she replied and pulled him into the room by his belt and the second the door closed behind him she pinned him to the door and kissed him.
They were still in her bed at 11 am the next morning and would have stayed there all day had she not had to get back for the children.
“That was a masterly piece of planning madam” he said and kissed her as they cuddled under the duvet.
“Do you like all the sneaking around?” She asked
“I like the prize I get for all the sneaking around” he replied
“Do you find it exciting?” Francesca asked
“I suppose so” he said “What about you?”
“I do find it exciting but it’s the anticipation of you that’s the most exciting” she replied
“Why do you ask?” he said
“I need to know if you’d still want me if we didn’t need to sneak” she said and then there was slience
“Are you suggesting we tell everyone?” He asked
“Yes” she said quietly averting her eyes
“I want that more than anything” he replied “I want everyone to know, I want to shout it from the roof tops”
“Really?” she asked with surprise “truly?”
“Don’t you?” he asked and she started to cry
“Whats wrong?” he asked
“I want that too” She sobbed
(Part 02)
Two weeks later, exactly one year to the day after they first met, the long secret affair was no longer a secret as Paul and Francesca told their friends and family.
An announcment which didn’t go down at all well as the news was not well received by anyone.
Her friends, though secretly jelous of her having a toy boy, told her she was behaving foolishly, her family universal condemend her as ridiculous and her ex husband said she was an embarrassment.
Only her sister Adrienne was at all understanding, but she was on her fourth husband and so her judgement regarding relationships was considered iffy at best.
Paul faired little better, his mates all congratulated him for scoring with a milf but told him in no uncertain terms what a dick head he was for dating someone 12 years older than him and someone with children to boot.
His Dad thought he was a bit of a lad and his Mum thought he was digusting.
As a result of the reaction they got, their social circle was severely reduced so they had to be content with each others company, which was no hardship.
But on the plus side Francesca’s children were delighted with the situation and took to Paul imediately and so they became an instant family.
As the months went by and it became self evident that their relationship was not just a passing fad they were gradually accepted, albeit grudgingly, but it was almost a year before they were able to have a weekend to themselves thanks to Francesca’s mum taking the kids for the weekend.
But as luck would have it he had to go into work on Saturday morning, much to their annoyance, but he was expected to be home by two oclock at the latest.
It was a glorious day and very hot, especially for midday but not as hot as he thought the love of his life Francesca was.
He was more than an hour earlier getting to the house than he expected, so he let himself in using his front door key, which not for the first time made him smile.
He was glad he was home early he was looking forward all morning to making love to her and along with his feeling of love he felt immensely proud to be her boyfriend, and wanted to be even more.
He stepped inside and said hello but got no reply so he figured she must be outside in the garden so he walked towards the open French doors.
Paul stood on the threshold and looked out at the beautiful garden but it was not the manicured lawn and well stocked beds that drew his eye.
He could see Francesca on the patio lying face down on a sun lounger wearing a blue bikini.
She had her back tilted towards him and he was about to announce his presence but as his eyes surveyed the glorious body of the woman he loved, the curve of her hip, her waist and the sensual curve of her buttocks, he also noticed that her shoulders were shaking which he deduced indicated she was crying.
(Part 03)
He stepped inside and said hello but got no reply so he figured she must be outside in the garden so he walked towards the open French doors.
Paul stood on the threshold and looked out at the beautiful garden but it was not the manicured lawn and well stocked beds that drew his eye.
He could see Francesca on the patio lying face down on a sun lounger wearing a blue bikini.
She had her back tilted towards him and he was about to announce his presence but as his eyes surveyed the glorious body of the woman he loved, the curve of her hip, her waist and the sensual curve of her buttocks, he also noticed that her shoulders were shaking which he deduced indicated she was crying.
“Whats the matter?” He asked and Francesca jumped and then looked over her shoulder.
“Oh Paul” she exclaimed and got up and hugged him
“Whats wrong sexy?” he asked
“I’m not though” she said hiding her face
“You’re not what?” Paul asked
“I’m not sexy” Francesca said softly
“Well I think you are” he asured her
“Really?” she asked unconvinced still hiding her face
“Really” he replied
“You don’t think I’m dirty?” she asked
“No” he said firmly
“You don’t think that I’m a slutty milf?” Francesca asked
“No, never, why would you even ask that?” he asked and Francesca didn’t reply
“Has someone said something?” he added and she nodded
“Who was it?”
“It doesn’t matter who it was” she replied quietly
“Well screw them whoever it was” he said “because I’m in love with a beautiful woman who just happens to be 12 years older than me and she is the sexiest woman I have ever known, so they will just have to get used to it because I’m not going anywhere”
Francesca slowly lifted her head and looked up over her shoulder at him and smiled.
“Hi beautiful” Paul said and gave her a long gentle kiss
“Do you really think I’m sexy?” she asked
“Very sexy” he said and kissed her passionately and when he had finished he asked
“Do you feel sexy yet?”
“Hmmm” she murmured
“I was hoping you would” he said
“What else are you hoping for?” she asked coyly
“Well firstly I would like to make love to you” he said and kissed her again
“I might be agreeable to that” she said
“And then I would like to become your second husband” he said and kissed her mouth.
“What?” she asked
“I would like you to become Mrs Francesca Ingram”
“You want to marry me?” she asked aghast
“Yes, very much” he said “So what’s the answer?”
“Well” she said and as she walked towards the French doors she discarded her bikini, and as she stood on the threshold with her beautiful body on display
“I think we should go upstairs and discuss our engagement” she said and ran inside giggling.
“I take it that’s a yes then” he called as he ran inside after her.
Tuesday, 6 June 2017
Monday, 5 June 2017
Mornington-By-Mere – (73) R and R
(Part 01)
The Varney’s lived in the small country village of Mornington-By-Mere in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
Which was a quaint picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere.
He lived and worked up at Mornington Field which had once been an RAF base but had been converted into a mixture of commercial and residential units.
They lived in one of the Cottages in Dulcet Mill Lane, number 5, in the part of the Village known as Manorside and they had lived there together all of their married life.
70 year old George was employed at the Mornington Brewery before he retired while his wife Tracey was a stay at home mum, raising their six children.
They were obviously all grown up now and most of them had children of their own and were now in every corner of Downshire.
There youngest was Harry who was a civil engineer and he had been working away in Oman for six months and had returned to the UK to catch his breath and recharge his batteries before he returned to Muscat for his next 6 month stint away.
His home was in Abbottsford which at the time was having some major renovations doing to it so it wasn’t the most conducive location for rest and recuperation so he planned to stay at his parents’ house while they were away in Portugal for a couple of weeks so he would have the house to himself which was perfect for what he had in mind which was nothing.
He was completely knackered and was understandably looking forward to a good few days of doing nothing very much at all before his friends realised he was back in Downshire and an endless round of frenetic activity of sports bars and long boozy lunches, clubbing and the pursuit of gratuitous sex began.
But everyone knows the saying about the “best laid plans”, they are absolutely pointless when fate takes a hand.
Things began to go wrong at the break of day on his first night in Mornington, when a crack of thunder almost blew him out of bed, and then the storm rumbled round for hours after that, making sleep nearly impossible, he would just drift off into slumber and then CRASH and he was wide awake again, then things would calm down and he would begin to dose and then CRASH and his eyes were wide open once more.
He gave up after the 9th or 10th time and got up and went downstairs for coffee.
The storm raged on for another hour or so but when it finally petered out he decided not to go back to bed and pottered around the house instead, spending the first few hours of his well-earned respite doing housework.
He had been home for less than 24hrs and couldn’t believe how much mess he had made.
About midmorning the sun came out so he thought he might as well take a walk down to the Old Mill, from where he could make his presence known to his friends, so Harry went upstairs to shower and shave.
He arrived back downstairs half an hour later and had just picked up his keys when something in the garden caught his eye, just on the edge of the patio and the something was bent over a wheelbarrow.
(Part 02)
He arrived back downstairs after his shower and had just picked up his keys when something in the garden caught his eye, just on the edge of the patio and the something was bent over a wheelbarrow.
“Very nice” he said to himself as he took advantage of the view up her skirt.
“Oh very nice indeed” he said as to his absolute delight she reached for something at the other end of the barrow and in an effort to prevent herself overbalancing her left leg shot out sideways and the resulting rearrangement of her buttocks caused her left cheek to become completely exposed as the knicker leg rolled between her fleshy cheeks so he put his keys down on the table and sat in the conservatory to get a better look.
To his enjoyment the girl stayed bent over the barrow for a minute or so with one naked buttock on show and then she stood up and after ungloving her hand she lifted her skirt and slowly extracted her knickers from her bum.
When she was stood up he could see she was quite tall with long chestnut hair but other than that there was no clue as to her identity.
It wasn’t anyone he knew, he was certain of that.
The mystery gardener then walked to the side of the wheelbarrow and leant over it again, this time presenting him with a side view of her.
The thick chestnut hair obscured her face but then he wasn’t really looking at her face as her rather large frontage fell forward and filled her top and offered him a tantalizing taster through the armhole of her vest top.
He thought for a moment that apart from her work boots, socks and gloves, the rest of her apparel wasn’t really vocation appropriate, a vest top, short skirt and impractical underwear, not that he was complaining, he was just enjoying the show.
Which was far more enticing than any floor show his mates might have dragged him to.
He stared at every inch of the horny gardener except for her face but he was beginning not to care about that, which was the point that she stood up and turned towards him and smiled and he did know her, it was Verity Lamb, his first ever girlfriend, not that she had looked as she did at that precise moment back then, when they were at school together twenty years earlier.
He stood up and opened the door and walked toward her.
“Hi Verity” he said “what are you doing here?”
“This is what I do” she replied “I’m a gardener by profession”
“You’re not dressed like a professional gardener” he retorted
“It’s my day off”
“What?” he asked rather confusedly
“Your mum told me you were going to be home alone while they were away” she said as she walked towards him
“So I thought I’d come round and get you interested in the gardener”
Harry said nothing but swallowed hard and then Verity added
“I’m thinking I succeeded”
“Definitely” he replied
“Well are you going to invite me in?” she said and kissed him “or do I have to do all the work”
“Well put like that” he said “come in”
And led her by the hand inside and there they stayed as he spent the first three days of his R&R with the buxom gardener doing everything but rest and relax.
The Varney’s lived in the small country village of Mornington-By-Mere in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
Which was a quaint picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere.
He lived and worked up at Mornington Field which had once been an RAF base but had been converted into a mixture of commercial and residential units.
They lived in one of the Cottages in Dulcet Mill Lane, number 5, in the part of the Village known as Manorside and they had lived there together all of their married life.
70 year old George was employed at the Mornington Brewery before he retired while his wife Tracey was a stay at home mum, raising their six children.
They were obviously all grown up now and most of them had children of their own and were now in every corner of Downshire.
There youngest was Harry who was a civil engineer and he had been working away in Oman for six months and had returned to the UK to catch his breath and recharge his batteries before he returned to Muscat for his next 6 month stint away.
His home was in Abbottsford which at the time was having some major renovations doing to it so it wasn’t the most conducive location for rest and recuperation so he planned to stay at his parents’ house while they were away in Portugal for a couple of weeks so he would have the house to himself which was perfect for what he had in mind which was nothing.
He was completely knackered and was understandably looking forward to a good few days of doing nothing very much at all before his friends realised he was back in Downshire and an endless round of frenetic activity of sports bars and long boozy lunches, clubbing and the pursuit of gratuitous sex began.
But everyone knows the saying about the “best laid plans”, they are absolutely pointless when fate takes a hand.
Things began to go wrong at the break of day on his first night in Mornington, when a crack of thunder almost blew him out of bed, and then the storm rumbled round for hours after that, making sleep nearly impossible, he would just drift off into slumber and then CRASH and he was wide awake again, then things would calm down and he would begin to dose and then CRASH and his eyes were wide open once more.
He gave up after the 9th or 10th time and got up and went downstairs for coffee.
The storm raged on for another hour or so but when it finally petered out he decided not to go back to bed and pottered around the house instead, spending the first few hours of his well-earned respite doing housework.
He had been home for less than 24hrs and couldn’t believe how much mess he had made.
About midmorning the sun came out so he thought he might as well take a walk down to the Old Mill, from where he could make his presence known to his friends, so Harry went upstairs to shower and shave.
He arrived back downstairs half an hour later and had just picked up his keys when something in the garden caught his eye, just on the edge of the patio and the something was bent over a wheelbarrow.
(Part 02)
He arrived back downstairs after his shower and had just picked up his keys when something in the garden caught his eye, just on the edge of the patio and the something was bent over a wheelbarrow.
“Very nice” he said to himself as he took advantage of the view up her skirt.
“Oh very nice indeed” he said as to his absolute delight she reached for something at the other end of the barrow and in an effort to prevent herself overbalancing her left leg shot out sideways and the resulting rearrangement of her buttocks caused her left cheek to become completely exposed as the knicker leg rolled between her fleshy cheeks so he put his keys down on the table and sat in the conservatory to get a better look.
To his enjoyment the girl stayed bent over the barrow for a minute or so with one naked buttock on show and then she stood up and after ungloving her hand she lifted her skirt and slowly extracted her knickers from her bum.
When she was stood up he could see she was quite tall with long chestnut hair but other than that there was no clue as to her identity.
It wasn’t anyone he knew, he was certain of that.
The mystery gardener then walked to the side of the wheelbarrow and leant over it again, this time presenting him with a side view of her.
The thick chestnut hair obscured her face but then he wasn’t really looking at her face as her rather large frontage fell forward and filled her top and offered him a tantalizing taster through the armhole of her vest top.
He thought for a moment that apart from her work boots, socks and gloves, the rest of her apparel wasn’t really vocation appropriate, a vest top, short skirt and impractical underwear, not that he was complaining, he was just enjoying the show.
Which was far more enticing than any floor show his mates might have dragged him to.
He stared at every inch of the horny gardener except for her face but he was beginning not to care about that, which was the point that she stood up and turned towards him and smiled and he did know her, it was Verity Lamb, his first ever girlfriend, not that she had looked as she did at that precise moment back then, when they were at school together twenty years earlier.
He stood up and opened the door and walked toward her.
“Hi Verity” he said “what are you doing here?”
“This is what I do” she replied “I’m a gardener by profession”
“You’re not dressed like a professional gardener” he retorted
“It’s my day off”
“What?” he asked rather confusedly
“Your mum told me you were going to be home alone while they were away” she said as she walked towards him
“So I thought I’d come round and get you interested in the gardener”
Harry said nothing but swallowed hard and then Verity added
“I’m thinking I succeeded”
“Definitely” he replied
“Well are you going to invite me in?” she said and kissed him “or do I have to do all the work”
“Well put like that” he said “come in”
And led her by the hand inside and there they stayed as he spent the first three days of his R&R with the buxom gardener doing everything but rest and relax.
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (75) The Solicitor’s Receptionist at Lunch
Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles were the firm of Shallowfield Solicitors handling the disposition of Phil Marlow’s late father’s estate which turned out to be quite protracted.
It was on the occasion of Phil Marlow’s first meeting with his Solicitor Linda Baxter that he first saw the object of his affections.
And on that first visit he gazed lustily down her top at the quite pleasing vista restrained in a pink satin bra.
Which he thought was a delightful surprise because her outer garments were very unremarkable, and when she realized he was staring down her top she quickly covered herself up and let out a rather disgusted exclamation, but then she smiled at him and blushed.
He may have thought her a straight laced prude, but he liked that, it had always turned him on, partly because of the challenge but more often than not because they turned out to be less straight laced beneath the façade.
So he returned her smile and asked
“Do you have anything with the address and phone number on?”
“Oh yes” she replied eagerly “I could give you one of my cards”
“Thank you….”
“Catherine” she said “Catherine Kimber”
“Thank you Catherine”
He wasn’t sure if he would ever call her but he had learned to keep his options open.
Phil thought that with regular visits to the offices he would get numerous opportunities to speak with her, but alas no.
And that was why he was grumpy because he had concluded his business with Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles, and he hadn’t asked her and nor had he phoned her.
But eventually he plucked up the courage and he phoned the Solicitors
“Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles”
“Hello Catherine” he said “it’s Phil Marlow”
The long awaited first date was a great success and several more followed and never disappointed but after each successive date he was left wanting more.
So when the want of seeing her became too much to bear he decided to go and surprise her at the office on Friday lunchtime even though he was seeing her that night anyway.
Once he reached the building he went upstairs to the front office but as he reached reception Catherine’s desk was unmanned and he thought he wouldn’t be going to see her after all.
Which was a shame because he’d really looked forward to surprising her.
“Oh well another time” he said to himself and headed back towards the door which was when he saw her at the other end of the corridor, she hadn’t seen him as she was reading a document as she walked.
He had to think quickly so he opened the disabled toilet door and stepped in and waited until she was passing
“Where are you going?” he asked as he pulled her into the toilet and quickly closed the door and in response she threw herself into his arms.
“Are you here to rob me or ravish me?”
“I think you already know the answer to that” he replied and kissed her
“Have you got long?” he asked between kisses
“I’m on my lunch break” she replied
“Good what would you like for lunch then?”
“You” she replied and began kissing him
After a prolonged kiss she said
“That was the best lunch ever”
“Back to work now then” he suggested
“And look forward to dinner” Catherine added
So they reluctantly said goodbye but he was waiting for her when she finished work and they went for an early dinner after which she took him home and kept him there until Monday morning.
It was on the occasion of Phil Marlow’s first meeting with his Solicitor Linda Baxter that he first saw the object of his affections.
And on that first visit he gazed lustily down her top at the quite pleasing vista restrained in a pink satin bra.
Which he thought was a delightful surprise because her outer garments were very unremarkable, and when she realized he was staring down her top she quickly covered herself up and let out a rather disgusted exclamation, but then she smiled at him and blushed.
He may have thought her a straight laced prude, but he liked that, it had always turned him on, partly because of the challenge but more often than not because they turned out to be less straight laced beneath the façade.
So he returned her smile and asked
“Do you have anything with the address and phone number on?”
“Oh yes” she replied eagerly “I could give you one of my cards”
“Thank you….”
“Catherine” she said “Catherine Kimber”
“Thank you Catherine”
He wasn’t sure if he would ever call her but he had learned to keep his options open.
Phil thought that with regular visits to the offices he would get numerous opportunities to speak with her, but alas no.
And that was why he was grumpy because he had concluded his business with Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles, and he hadn’t asked her and nor had he phoned her.
But eventually he plucked up the courage and he phoned the Solicitors
“Pangbourne, Parker and Knowles”
“Hello Catherine” he said “it’s Phil Marlow”
The long awaited first date was a great success and several more followed and never disappointed but after each successive date he was left wanting more.
So when the want of seeing her became too much to bear he decided to go and surprise her at the office on Friday lunchtime even though he was seeing her that night anyway.
Once he reached the building he went upstairs to the front office but as he reached reception Catherine’s desk was unmanned and he thought he wouldn’t be going to see her after all.
Which was a shame because he’d really looked forward to surprising her.
“Oh well another time” he said to himself and headed back towards the door which was when he saw her at the other end of the corridor, she hadn’t seen him as she was reading a document as she walked.
He had to think quickly so he opened the disabled toilet door and stepped in and waited until she was passing
“Where are you going?” he asked as he pulled her into the toilet and quickly closed the door and in response she threw herself into his arms.
“Are you here to rob me or ravish me?”
“I think you already know the answer to that” he replied and kissed her
“Have you got long?” he asked between kisses
“I’m on my lunch break” she replied
“Good what would you like for lunch then?”
“You” she replied and began kissing him
After a prolonged kiss she said
“That was the best lunch ever”
“Back to work now then” he suggested
“And look forward to dinner” Catherine added
So they reluctantly said goodbye but he was waiting for her when she finished work and they went for an early dinner after which she took him home and kept him there until Monday morning.
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (74) The Girl with the Flaming Red Hair
John Coe was staying at the Shallowfield Lodge Hotel at the head of Teardrop Lake as he did every summer as the view of the lake from the Hotel was spectacular.
The lake was shaped like a teardrop, hence its name, and surrounded by the ancient woodland of the Dancingdean Forrest.
It wasn’t a huge body of water, just over two miles long and almost a mile at its widest point.
It was beautiful and relatively unspoilt which was one of the reasons he chose it.
A lot of fishermen, walkers and avid bird watchers gravitated to the Finchbottom Vale.
Teardrop Lake and the surrounding woodland was privately owned and divided into twelve parcels of land, each with one significant dwelling on it, although there were a number of cottages dotted around the forest as well, some in use and some not.
It was both idyllic and peaceful, and there was little or no noise pollution and although the lake was used there were no speed boats or jet skis, only rowing boats, canoes, dinghies and skiffs.
For John it was the sailing that brought him to the lake, and he had spent the day sailing and as he approached the jetty he saw a figure standing there.
The first thing he noticed was the sun on her red hair, turning it to a blazing fire as it tumbled down onto the white flesh of her shoulders.
The next thing to catch his eye were the pastel shades of her meagre top which struggled to contain the vibrancy of her wondrous breasts.
His eyes then moved on to her naked midriff which tantalized with a glint of sun on an adornment in her navel.
The waistband of her skirt, falsely named as it actually sat more factually on her hips, while the white cotton below encased her rolling buttocks and strong thighs.
Gratifyingly, heaven sent a gust of summer breeze blowing off the lake lifting her skirt and allowing glimpses of her white thighs and pastel underwear.
But as she walked along the jetty the sunlight behind her illuminated her form, more than hinting at the delights contained within the cotton of her skirt and his loins burned for her.
His thoughts about the girl with the flaming red hair had turned to a burning desire which he would soon quench in the coolness of the forest shade because the crimson haired beauty was his wife.
The lake was shaped like a teardrop, hence its name, and surrounded by the ancient woodland of the Dancingdean Forrest.
It wasn’t a huge body of water, just over two miles long and almost a mile at its widest point.
It was beautiful and relatively unspoilt which was one of the reasons he chose it.
A lot of fishermen, walkers and avid bird watchers gravitated to the Finchbottom Vale.
Teardrop Lake and the surrounding woodland was privately owned and divided into twelve parcels of land, each with one significant dwelling on it, although there were a number of cottages dotted around the forest as well, some in use and some not.
It was both idyllic and peaceful, and there was little or no noise pollution and although the lake was used there were no speed boats or jet skis, only rowing boats, canoes, dinghies and skiffs.
For John it was the sailing that brought him to the lake, and he had spent the day sailing and as he approached the jetty he saw a figure standing there.
The first thing he noticed was the sun on her red hair, turning it to a blazing fire as it tumbled down onto the white flesh of her shoulders.
The next thing to catch his eye were the pastel shades of her meagre top which struggled to contain the vibrancy of her wondrous breasts.
His eyes then moved on to her naked midriff which tantalized with a glint of sun on an adornment in her navel.
The waistband of her skirt, falsely named as it actually sat more factually on her hips, while the white cotton below encased her rolling buttocks and strong thighs.
Gratifyingly, heaven sent a gust of summer breeze blowing off the lake lifting her skirt and allowing glimpses of her white thighs and pastel underwear.
But as she walked along the jetty the sunlight behind her illuminated her form, more than hinting at the delights contained within the cotton of her skirt and his loins burned for her.
His thoughts about the girl with the flaming red hair had turned to a burning desire which he would soon quench in the coolness of the forest shade because the crimson haired beauty was his wife.
Sunday, 4 June 2017
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (73) Lovely Young Eleanor
The lovely young Eleanor is a pretty young woman, a sweet dusky maiden with luscious skin the shade of molten chocolate with an exotic scent that makes your head spin and your pulse race, leaving you dizzy with delight.
Her sweet Angelic face, is heavenly framed with rich soft curls,
as black as jet and shiny like a raven’s wing.
She looks at you with soulful eyes, warm and inviting which are brown like burnt sugar and possess a hypnotic quality.
Her exquisite nose is small and button like and is the perfect punctuation for her demerara lips, which are softly moist and wear a constant smile playing around them until she unleashes a full-bodied beam and her whole face lights up, bright enough to dazzle a star and making her dark eyes seductively beguiling.
Unintentionally coy and unambiguously sweet, elegant young Eleanor moves gracefully like a cat, while remaining playful as a kitten.
She is delicately limbed and is lithe and lissom with dainty hands and her feet are small like those of a child.
She holds her head high with assurance and confidence on her swan like neck which sits symmetrically on sculptured shoulders atop a sleek slender frame, possessed of a tiny waist and narrow hips.
Her small round buttocks are almost like a boys, and her breasts sit in perfect parity. Unimaginably she seems completely unaware of her allure and oblivious to her beauty and the effect she has on men and women alike.
Sceptical of any appeal, incredible as it may seem she doesn’t see the woman she has become or the woman she has been for many months.
She has come of age and is to all intents and purposes at ease with herself and she is in no hurry to squander her innocence, and her virginity will not be lost casually to someone undeserving.
But perhaps the most wondrous thing about the lovely young Eleanor is that she will not recognise herself from this description of her and she will think it refers to a stranger, which all adds to the wonderful whole that she is and making her all the more desirable for it.
Her sweet Angelic face, is heavenly framed with rich soft curls,
as black as jet and shiny like a raven’s wing.
She looks at you with soulful eyes, warm and inviting which are brown like burnt sugar and possess a hypnotic quality.
Her exquisite nose is small and button like and is the perfect punctuation for her demerara lips, which are softly moist and wear a constant smile playing around them until she unleashes a full-bodied beam and her whole face lights up, bright enough to dazzle a star and making her dark eyes seductively beguiling.
Unintentionally coy and unambiguously sweet, elegant young Eleanor moves gracefully like a cat, while remaining playful as a kitten.
She is delicately limbed and is lithe and lissom with dainty hands and her feet are small like those of a child.
She holds her head high with assurance and confidence on her swan like neck which sits symmetrically on sculptured shoulders atop a sleek slender frame, possessed of a tiny waist and narrow hips.
Her small round buttocks are almost like a boys, and her breasts sit in perfect parity. Unimaginably she seems completely unaware of her allure and oblivious to her beauty and the effect she has on men and women alike.
Sceptical of any appeal, incredible as it may seem she doesn’t see the woman she has become or the woman she has been for many months.
She has come of age and is to all intents and purposes at ease with herself and she is in no hurry to squander her innocence, and her virginity will not be lost casually to someone undeserving.
But perhaps the most wondrous thing about the lovely young Eleanor is that she will not recognise herself from this description of her and she will think it refers to a stranger, which all adds to the wonderful whole that she is and making her all the more desirable for it.
Mornington-By-Mere – (72) The Rustic Stile
The Smiths were tenants at Smithfield Farm and had been since the 19th century and 77 year old Sydney Smith was the head of the Smith Clan at the time Mornington Field was returned back to the ownership of the Mornington Estate but the Smiths didn’t regain the farmland they lost when it was compulsory purchased by the War Department in 1914, but despite that the family had thrived and the farm was providing them with a good living.
Sydney had been married to Mary for 55 years and it all began where the public right of way crossed Smithfield farmland via a Stile on the boundary between the farm and the lane.
The rustic stile still stands sentinel, marking that special place where the fates conspired to ensure that the soul mates should meet.
They were purposely treading opposing paths when they met at that rustic spot.
Sydney Smith was heading back towards the farm from the top twenty acre field with his brother and Mary Watson and a friend were taking a short cut to Apple Gate Farm where they were stable girls.
Mary reached the stile first and Sydney helped her cross by taking her hand, which was small and silken soft, guiding her safely to his side, and despite the presence of each other’s companions, they were to all intents and purposes quite alone, and in those moments when hand touched hand they at once beheld their lives from that point on would be forever altered and were content with that destiny.
The following year they were married in the Village at St Winifred’s Church and every year they celebrated two anniversary’s, the first one was of their wedding and the second anniversary, in many ways more important, was of their first meeting at the rustic stile which stands like a monument to mark the place of alteration, a significant place, a spiritual place often revisited and on such sojourns they would find renewal as the energizing memory of that special life changing moment, And assailing their senses, essentially invigorating, like imbibing the waters from the fountain of youth and their hearts would once again resound with joyousness and sweet moments of romance.
Those excited tingles of loves first passion, when hearts beat faster and desire courses through every fibre, the thrill of blossoming love adding to the strata of their love laid down through all their years together and by returning to the place of loves wondrous inception they keep their love alive, and in equal measure love returns the favour.
Sydney had been married to Mary for 55 years and it all began where the public right of way crossed Smithfield farmland via a Stile on the boundary between the farm and the lane.
The rustic stile still stands sentinel, marking that special place where the fates conspired to ensure that the soul mates should meet.
They were purposely treading opposing paths when they met at that rustic spot.
Sydney Smith was heading back towards the farm from the top twenty acre field with his brother and Mary Watson and a friend were taking a short cut to Apple Gate Farm where they were stable girls.
Mary reached the stile first and Sydney helped her cross by taking her hand, which was small and silken soft, guiding her safely to his side, and despite the presence of each other’s companions, they were to all intents and purposes quite alone, and in those moments when hand touched hand they at once beheld their lives from that point on would be forever altered and were content with that destiny.
The following year they were married in the Village at St Winifred’s Church and every year they celebrated two anniversary’s, the first one was of their wedding and the second anniversary, in many ways more important, was of their first meeting at the rustic stile which stands like a monument to mark the place of alteration, a significant place, a spiritual place often revisited and on such sojourns they would find renewal as the energizing memory of that special life changing moment, And assailing their senses, essentially invigorating, like imbibing the waters from the fountain of youth and their hearts would once again resound with joyousness and sweet moments of romance.
Those excited tingles of loves first passion, when hearts beat faster and desire courses through every fibre, the thrill of blossoming love adding to the strata of their love laid down through all their years together and by returning to the place of loves wondrous inception they keep their love alive, and in equal measure love returns the favour.
Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (72) Christmas Party Girls
Steve Danone hated office parties, but at Cooper, Brandon and Holland Accountants in Shallowfield, it was an annual ritual that apparently had to be endured.
The reason he didn’t like them was that all the really nice girls turned out to have no taste in men whatsoever, the plain homely looking ones turned out to be total sluts, the friendly ones got all bitter and depressed and the outgoing bubbly ones just got falling down drunk.
And it was worse that year in particular because there was one girl that he particularly fancied, Carol Herd, and he really didn’t want to see what became of her after a few drinks so he went across the street to the Plough for a couple of hours and when he returned the party was over.
There were one or two revellers remaining, a middle-aged man called David was unconscious at his desk, a girl called Ellie from accounts was throwing up in her waste bin and a plain looking woman from legal called Dorcas was spread-eagled across the conference room table singing “O Holy Night”.
And the only thing about the scene that surprised him was that she was the senior partner.
“Same old, same old” he said as he returned to his office where he found Carol Herd sitting in his leather chair behind his desk.
“I think you are in the wrong office,” he said thinking she was drunk but she stood up and walked towards him
“Oh I don’t believe I am” she said, stone cold sober “Especially now that you’ve finally got here”
The reason he didn’t like them was that all the really nice girls turned out to have no taste in men whatsoever, the plain homely looking ones turned out to be total sluts, the friendly ones got all bitter and depressed and the outgoing bubbly ones just got falling down drunk.
And it was worse that year in particular because there was one girl that he particularly fancied, Carol Herd, and he really didn’t want to see what became of her after a few drinks so he went across the street to the Plough for a couple of hours and when he returned the party was over.
There were one or two revellers remaining, a middle-aged man called David was unconscious at his desk, a girl called Ellie from accounts was throwing up in her waste bin and a plain looking woman from legal called Dorcas was spread-eagled across the conference room table singing “O Holy Night”.
And the only thing about the scene that surprised him was that she was the senior partner.
“Same old, same old” he said as he returned to his office where he found Carol Herd sitting in his leather chair behind his desk.
“I think you are in the wrong office,” he said thinking she was drunk but she stood up and walked towards him
“Oh I don’t believe I am” she said, stone cold sober “Especially now that you’ve finally got here”
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