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Thank you to everyone who commented on my first story. Just to clear up any confusion. I tend to use English (British) slang.
The word ‘Fanny’ in this country refers to female genitals as opposed to the North American use which means buttocks.
Anyway, here’s my second attempt and I hope everyone enjoys it as much.
My ‘Google’ search hadn’t been very helpful, I was looking for a cottage to rent and my search had unearthed thousands of entries. Perhaps I was going about it the wrong way I thought, dragging a large map of the country from a drawer in the study and spreading it across the desk, I automatically discounted cities and large towns as already living in the suburbs of one city, I refused to substitute it for another. What I was searching for was a small village or hamlet, somewhere out of the way and quieter, somewhere I could think and get my head together. Staying away from what were considered all major populated area’s, I found myself looking at the small village names on the map, my finger tracing from one name to another.
‘Lower Yockleton’, the name caught my attention and I returned to Google, searching for properties to rent in the Shropshire countryside. There were three cottages all within a reasonable distance of the village whose name had so intrigued me. Reading ‘Wikipedia’, it seemed ‘Lower Yockleton was more a hamlet rather than a village, the type that had one main street, a few shops, post office, pub and cottages sparsely spread around that central hub. Noting the telephone number I called the letting agent and made an appointment to view all three. It would be a three-hour drive from my present location, but I didn’t care, it would get me out of the house and I needed to escape.
Having sat my final exams and finished college, I had come out with a masters degree in engineering as the summer had finally beckoned, intending to travel around Europe with a few friends before meeting up with mum and dad who were going over to their villa in Spain for the summer. I still remember it was a Wednesday evening and was packing any bits I’d forgotten when the front doorbell rang, thinking it was probably one of my friends calling round.
I opened the door with a huge grin on my face only to be greeted by two police officers stood on the doorstep.
‘Adam Judd?’ One of them asked.
I nodded my head, looking puzzled.
‘May we come inside Sir? ‘We need to speak to you,’ he continued, his voice taking on a kinder tone.
Showing them through to the lounge, I was unaware that my life and the world around me was about to change. Mum and dad had set off that morning in the taxi taking them to the airport, excited to be on their way at last and I looking forward to eventually hooking up with them.
‘Are your parents Thomas and Marjory Judd?’ It was all sounding very official.
I felt uneasy, as again I nodded my head.
‘I’m very sorry to tell you that they were involved in a vehicle accident today and that sadly, they have both been killed,’ he concluded, and for a moment I thought he was going to put his hand on my shoulder.
It was the shock, they gave me more details but I was not really listening anymore even when they asked if there were any relatives locally who could come over. I was an only child as were both my parents, there were no relatives that I had ever met, no grandparents, aunts or uncles, mum and dads parents had already passed away by the time I was born. Eventually, the police arranged for my friend Adrian’s mother to come and stay for the night just to make sure I was ok.
The next eight weeks were hard as I attended the inquest and arranged their funerals, mum and dad being buried next to each other, and then I had to sort all their things out and see the solicitors. Everything they owned had been left to me, the house which was quite large, the bank accounts and a small engineering company that dad owned, one reason why I had taken my degree at college, it was going to become ‘Judd & Son’.
Cynthia, Adrian’s mum came over and helped me sort out their clothes and belongings, some going to charity, others packed away as I couldn’t bring myself to part with some items. It was a strange time, Cynthia was attractive and quite fit for an older woman and I got the feeling that there could have been something between us if I’d wanted, but I was still numb and confused and that was the last thing on my mind.
Putting the last of their things in the loft, was when a small box off to one side caught my eye; retrieving it from the dark corner, I was surprised to find my first name written on it in felt tip pen. Carefully carrying it down the ladder, I blew off the coating of dust and took it downstairs to the kitchen, intrigued as to what it could be. I opened it slowly as my world began to crumble and collapse completely.
The box contained letters and papers and two photographs, my real name was ‘Daniel Evans and my parents, who weren’t my biological canlı bahis parents, had adopted me. There was nothing in there with my real parent’s name on it, only the two pictures, one had ‘Daniel aged 6 months’ written on the back and the other simply said ‘Anne’ and showed a young girl who was maybe fifteen or sixteen.
Stunned and shaking, I pondered, who were my real parents, did I have a sister and where was she, why had I been adopted, why had my real mother given me away. A myriad of questions bombarded my brain and now there was no one to ask, it was enough to drive someone mad and that was when I went off the rails. I started drinking and lying in my bed all day long, never washing or shaving, only going out to buy more alcohol once I had exhausted the supply at home. I shut myself away refusing to meet anyone or let people into the house; which slowly became a hovel as plates, bottles and empty food cartons piled up in the kitchen and other rooms, a thick layer of dust covering everything. It lasted eight months before Cynthia managed to gain access one morning.
‘Oh my God, Adam, what have you been doing?’ She asked as she looked at the state of the house and my dishevelled appearance.
‘My names, not Adam, its Daniel,’ I said, recounting what I had found, ‘My life has been a lie.’
Cynthia shook her head, ‘Marjory was your mum, she might not have given birth to you, but she brought you up and she loved you.
‘And just like any mother, she would be mortified with your behaviour and the state of the place.’
I hadn’t been in the mood to listen but she had bullied me until I finally went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, not recognising the person who stared back with bleary eyes.
Stood in the doorway she told me in no uncertain terms, ‘Take a bath Adam, you stink…..and get rid of the beard, you look like a tramp.’
She was right, I didn’t recognise myself, was it possible to sink any lower?
Running the bath full of water, I went and grabbed some scissors, cutting away most of the straggly beard before having a proper shave and climbing into the bath of deliciously hot water. Laying back and luxuriating in the tub, Cynthia returned with clean towels, her eyes taking in my naked form beneath the water as she dumped them to one side, but presently I was to far gone to be concerned.
‘Sit up while I wash your hair and soap you back,’ she instructed, grabbing the showerhead and spraying water over my head.
With clean hair and a soaped back, she sat off to one side on the loo seat and I got the impression that if I had asked her to join me, perhaps she may have done. But the water was manky after all those months and I felt embarrassed at the scum floating on its surface, st least it helped cover my nudity.
Finished and ready to get out, she appeared to be in no hurry to move, ‘Hand me a towel will you?’ I asked as I stood, she had already seen me in the bath naked, now wasn’t the time to appear prudish.
Her eyes instantly went to my groin as I took the towel from her and wrapped it around my waist, much to her disappointment, before climbing from the water.
‘You need a haircut,’ she laughed, while I looked at myself again in the mirror.
I’d lost weight and my body’s tone was starting to disappear but at least I looked partially normal now, that was except for the hair, before, I had kept it short, now it was down past my shoulders.
‘You’re a hairdresser Cynthia, fancy cutting it for me, it doesn’t have to be perfect,’ I asked.
She nodded and picked up the scissors, ‘Come down to the kitchen, have you got a comb?’
Sat on a chair in the kitchen, I watched as large chunks of hair landed at my feet, the ‘snip, snip’ of the scissors causing more strands to follow until finally, she handed me a mirror.
‘What do you think, will it do?’ She asked as she brushed loose hairs from my shoulders, the touch of her hands on my bare skin sending shivers down my spine and awakening something after all this time between my legs.
Standing up, I turned to face her, she was so close I could smell her perfume as she spotted the bulge starting to faintly show in the front of the towel wrapped around my waist. We remained like that for several moments before I closed the gap and kissed her, her arms going around my neck as she returned the kiss, pushing herself against my growing erection.
She broke away, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stared intently at me, ‘When the house is clean, you can have me, but not before.
‘I’ll come each day until we have it done, think of me as your reward.’ She said with a wicked smile.
Alone for the rest of the day, I tried to make plans for the future, I needed to get away for the moment and get used to my new circumstances, I had questions and somehow had to find answers. I made a promise to myself, from tomorrow I would make a fresh start and get back to the fitness regime I used to have, the rest of the day I spent getting bahis siteleri rid of all the bottles that now occupied nearly every room.
The next morning I was up early, donning shorts and vest, I put on my trainers and set off to do a few miles, managing only two before I doubled over and was sick. I was definitely out of shape and it was going to take more than a week to get my fitness back. Returning home, I found Cynthia ringing the doorbell, the jeans and t-shirt she wore, fitting her snugly and giving me a perfect view of her figure.
It took nearly two weeks to get the house back into what my mother would have considered decent, every day whenever I thought of her or dad, tears would prick at my eyes and I would turn away from Cynthia, embarrassed. By the end of those two weeks, I could easily manage five or six miles as my fitness began to return. It was a Monday morning, I’d just finished my run and was about to take a shower when the doorbell rang.
I wasn’t expecting Cynthia today, the house was now neat and tidy, back to its respectable splendour and so was surprised when I opened the door to find her stood there, only today she was not dressed to do any work. As she stepped inside she looked gorgeous, the shirt she wore was tight, gapping occasionally and giving me glimpses of her bra, her skirt hugged her hips and legs with a split that ran up the back and defined the shape of her legs.
‘I promised you a reward, and I always keep my promises,’ she said huskily as I looked her up and down.
‘I’ve been out for a run, I’m all sweaty. I was just going to take a shower,’ I told her, pleased when she suggested that she join me.
Once in the bathroom I threw off my shorts and top, thrilled as she allowed me to undress her, first her shirt followed by her bra, her breasts still firm and youthful-looking as they jutted from her chest. Next was her skirt and panties, she wriggled her hips sexily as she eased them down her legs and stepped out of both, leaving her stood there like me, completely naked. Her mound was also naked and allowed me to see where the opening to her fanny started, she stepped closer, her arms going around my neck as we kissed and my erection pushed against her belly.
We touched as we showered and soaped each other’s bodies, our arousal growing as we came together and broke apart, I teased ner nipples and ran my finger along her slit, Cynthia gripped my cock, forcing the skin downwards as she teased my knob. By the time I carried her to the bedroom we were both ready to fuck.
Laying her down on the bed, I joined her as she raised and opened her legs wide, urging me between her open thighs, her quim opening like a flower, her insides moist and on display. Without any preamble, I pushed my cock down into position and slowly and carefully slid its length into her, causing her to squeal with delight as her cunt expanded to accommodate its length. We fucked hard and fast, her legs wrapped around my waist as she dragged me deeper inside her tunnel, my hands fondling and squeezing her beautiful orbs as they bounced back and forth with each thrust of my hips.
And then we were both cumming, her juices flooding out as I emptied my balls inside her cunt, filling her with thick white cream. Afterwards, laying side by side, our bodies covered in sweat and our chests heaving. I told her about the decision I had made.
‘Will I get to see you again when I return,’ I had to ask.
Making love to her had been different, she was at least twenty years older than I was but that hadn’t mattered as we fucked, and I was eager to hopefully sample her delights once again in the future.
‘Don’t stay away too long and keep in touch with me, I’m not quite ready to relinquish you just yet,’ she laughed.
We made love again as she straddled my hips and I watched her tit’s bouncing when she slid up and down on my cock while my hand went between her legs and teased her clit until once more we both exploded. We showered again, together, until mid-afternoon she said that she really must go.
And so several days later, there I was searching Google and pouring over a map, although, now that I’d met Cynthia I did consider staying. The problem was that she was married and her son was one of my friends and presently there were too many painful memories around here, I needed to get away and clear my head to come to terms with whatever my future held.
Yesterday I had phoned and spoken to Maurice, he was my dad’s work’s manager and explained what I intended to do.
‘You do what you need to Adam, I’ll look after the firm and we’ll still be here when you’re ready to return,’ Maurice had told me.
Tomorrow I would drive to Shropshire and look over the three cottages, it would be hard as I would be taking dad’s car, the silver Mercedes Cabriolet sat in the garage had been his pride and joy.
The next morning I left around nine o-clock for the three-hour journey and was due to meet the letting agent about one-thirty. It felt strange at first bahis şirketleri taking dad’s car out and I had to keep wiping the tears from my eyes, but after a while I began to enjoy the drive, marvelling at the power of the sleek machine and arrived with plenty of time to spare before meeting the agent and following him to the first property. It was nothing special and left me feeling disappointed as I followed him to the second, which if anything was worse than the first.
Standing outside in the lane I asked what the third one was going to be like to save us both wasting our time.
‘What is it you’re looking for Sir. ‘If I had an idea it may help,’ he asked.
I tried to explain but the only thing I could come up with was the kind of picture you used to find on the front of tins of biscuits, your typical country cottage.
He pondered for a moment as if deciding whether I could afford what he was going to suggest. ‘Ah, I think I know what you’re looking for, I have a residence that has only come onto the books this morning. ‘It’s a minimum of a six months lease sir and it is a lot dearer than the properties you have looked at. ‘Would you like to view it, sir?’
I nodded and followed him again for another couple of miles until I saw a boundary marker which said ‘Lower Yockleton’, round the bend, down the hill and at the bottom, the agent pulled up in front of a property that was your quintessential British country cottage. It had a thatched roof with rambling roses and ivy growing up the outside and around the windows, the front garden was a mixture of cultivated and wildflowers, all coming into bloom as summer approached.
I didn’t haggle or try to get the price down, I just said that I would take it and asked when I could move in.
‘If you’d like to meet me back at the office about four, we can sort the paperwork out.
‘And then I just need a deposit from you sir and you can move in whenever you’re ready,’ he finished as we shook hands.
He left me to explore after giving me directions to his office and I watched him turn around and drive off. Jumping back into the car, I drove about a mile down the road, coming into the centre of the hamlet and again I wasn’t disappointed, it was exactly as I had hoped for. In the centre was a small green and off to one side the village pub, ‘The White Swan’.
There was a newsagent come post office and general stores, a baker’s and a butcher’s, the rest of the hamlet filled with thatched cottages, each of them with a colourful front garden. This was perfect, exactly what I was looking for, I could be anonymous here while I sorted out my life.
I spent an hour or so driving around and getting my bearings before turning around and heading in the direction of the agent’s office. The paperwork was just a formality and soon completed as Brian, the letting agent, looked on in surprise as I offered to pay the full six months rent in advance. The rent was higher than it had been on the other cottages I’d viewed but some of that was because the cottage came with a cleaner and a gardener who would come in periodically.
With everything sorted he handed over a set of keys, ‘I hope you enjoy your stay with us, if there is anything you need, just give me a call’.
I returned to the car and headed for home, determined that I could pack everything I needed that evening and move into the cottage tomorrow.
Cynthia and Adrian came over to give me a hand packing all the things I thought I may need into various cases as I attached a bike rack to the rear of the car, my intention when the weather was nice was to cycle the country lanes. She managed to get me alone for two minutes as Adrian put the last stuff in the car.
‘Don’t be a stranger and keep in touch, remember, its only three hours away, I can be there in no time at all,’ she said with a mischievous grin, giving me a quick kiss.
The sun was up and the day was already warm as I set out the next morning, the journey flew past in my excited state and before I knew it, I was pulling up outside the cottage. While the outside looked quaint and had that old-worldly charm, the inside had been modernised over the years.
Downstairs there was a kitchen, dining room, lounge and a snug with a log fire, upstairs there were two large bedrooms, a boxroom and a shower and bathroom. It took a while to move my belongings indoors and then I parked the car down the side of the cottage, as I returned I stopped for a moment and listened, it was quiet, only the sounds of insects buzzing among the flowers and birds could be heard, no voices or cars spoilt the tranquillity, no planes flew overhead, ‘It’s perfect,’ I thought.
Over the next couple of days with the fine weather, I managed to get out on the bike as I explored all the lanes that ran around the hamlet, it was relaxing as I pedalled along, the slight breeze on my face and my mind clear. I’d made a plan and intended to contact my parent’s solicitor at some point and see if he had any information, surely he would have discussed it with them when they decided to adopt. I was returning from one such expedition, having gone around in a wide loop and was free-wheeling downhill when I noticed someone stood outside the cottage.
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