3 comments/ 42442 views/ 3 favorites Greengages Ch. 01 By: merf68 Copyright © merf68. Please respect copyright. This story is entirely fictional, any similarity to people or places is purely co-incidental. * Chapter One. With satisfied smiles about their faces, the two men thanked their wives for the meal then, pushing their chairs back they stood up and walked off in companionable silence to the gate leading to the small arboretum attached to the property. Mother and daughter gathered together the dishes from the table under the apple tree, in and around which the daughter, Trish and Mike, now her husband, had played as kids. The dishes were transferred to the kitchen and the women set about the washing up. "Mummy," said Trish, seemingly casual as she passed her mother a rinsed dish, "how can I get more life back into my bed-time fun?" They had always been able to talk about intimate things but this was a bit more direct than their usual conversations. She pressed on, "I've grown up hearing your and Daddy's lustiness -- I'd like some of that in my bedroom but don't know what to do." Sarah, her mother, paused for a couple of seconds, looking into her eyes as if searching for something, then continued drying the dish. "Let me think ..." Mechanically Trish passed her the dishes as she cleaned each one and seemingly just as mechanically, Sarah dried and put them away. Trish thought of the ten years of her marriage and how things had drifted into a kind of staleness in the bedroom. Apart from heavy petting and exploratory groping in their adolescence, Mike and she had had no other lovers but each other. They had started as probably all young lovers do, determined to explore each other and learn new things. Now, although their love life was better than a 'wham, bang, thank you ma'am', there was no freshness to it anymore. She envied her parents because she often heard them going at it hammer and tongs, though always behind closed doors. They finished the dishes in silence then Sarah turned to her daughter and asked, "Have you and Michael talked this over?" She always called him Michael although everybody else said Mike. "Yes, Mummy. He wants it too. He knows I'm going to speak to you today." "Then he won't be too embarrassed to talk about it with Daddy. All four of us together?" She cocked her eyebrows inquiringly. "Well," Trish gave a little nervous giggle, "he may be a little embarrassed but he'll be OK." "Grab some glasses," Sarah said as she took a couple of bottles of white wine from the fridge. They had just settled down under the apple tree when their husbands returned through the gate and joined them. Trish's father opened the bottle and poured them all a glass which they raised briefly with a mutual, "Cheers!" When they had all settled comfortably in the warm airs of a summer evening, Sarah gave Trish a quick wink, turned to touch the older man's thigh to get his attention then, as bold as brass, she announced, "Michael and Trish want to spice up their love life. Right, Michael?" Mike blushed like crazy -- he can be terribly shy -- took a calming breath and stammered, "Y-y-yes. We want to try some new things. I don't know. We love each other ..." he turned to his wife who smiled her love back at him in confirmation, "... but things seem sort of stale. Unexciting, if you know what I mean." George, Trish's father nodded understandingly, thought it over for a few brief seconds, looking intensely at both Trish and Mike, then said just one word. "Greengages!" "I think so, too," agreed Sarah. "Tell them, George." "Where do I start?" he said with a deep sigh. "OK, remember when you were kids, every month your mother and I used to send you two to Uncle John and Aunt Mary for the weekend and the next week we would have Nigel and James over here?" It was true, Trish thought. Mike and she had grown up together. His parents, her parents' next-door-neighbours, had been killed in a plane crash when the kids were both four years old and somehow it fell to George and Sarah to foster Mike. The two of them were inseparable as children and their friendship turned to romance in their teens and thence to a very happy marriage. The kids used to be packed off to spend every fourth weekend with her cousins: Nigel was a year older than them and James about their age. Then Trish's cousins would be with them the next weekend. Greengages is a rambling old manor house, about ten miles away, set in its own massive grounds. It belongs to Tom Fairfax, or 'Uncle' Tom when they were kids -- they had an open invitation to use his swimming pool any time they could persuade their parents to take them over but he wouldn't allow children without at least one adult. 'Uncle' Tom, a life-long bachelor, always kept a fridge full of delicious cold drinks and the kids used to love to spend days at summer games playing in and around his pool. Their mother always brought a basket of food with her and often there would be two or three different families there at the same time, all joining in the fun and sharing picnic lunches. Tom was one of George's wealthier clients and one of the very few whose portfolio he looked after in retirement. "Greengages," continued George, "is where we ..." he indicated himself and his wife, "used to spend those weekends when you were away. John and Mary went when we had the boys over with us. But Greengages means much more to us than a happy garden for children to play in. Each weekend it changes in character and becomes strictly 'consenting adults only'. We were -- are -- a group of people who like to get together for a happy time. And a happy time means we do what we like. Dress is optional, as is sex in any of its manifestations between open-minded adults." He looked directly at Trish then Mike. "Do you both understand what I'm saying?" They both nodded. "Would you like to join us for a weekend? Several of our friends have already asked us about you but we have waited until you were ready. You already know most of the other guests. I think, perhaps, you are ready now. Sarah?" he looked towards his wife for confirmation. "Yes, I agree. Now why don't you and I leave them for a while and let them talk this over in private." She finished her glass of wine and stood up, holding her hand out to George who joined her and arm in arm they walked into the house leaving Trish and Mike to stare first after them then at each other. He was first to speak. "Well," he drew the syllable out as if considering his words, "Here's a chance to try one of your favourite fantasies! You've talked about making love to another man. Do you want to do it for real?" "What about you?" she responded, "How would you really feel if I ... if I fucked another man?" In her mind she felt attracted by the thought of fulfilling her fantasy, though butterflies were going frantic in her tummy. But how would she feel if he went with another woman? It cuts both ways, she realised. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she finally said after they had thrashed around the subject for several minutes. This was a sort of private joke with them. Whenever they had to make a mutual decision, they would encourage each other with that phrase. It started when they were kids -- from the obvious early childish experiments -- but it became part of their stock vocabulary. If they were in private, either of them could initiate acceptance of the decision by exposing their private parts to the other. In public, just an open hand, palm up, had the same meaning. They locked eyes for a minute then, still holding her gaze, Mike stood and pulled his shorts down to his knees. Staring right back, Trish stood and dropped her own shorts then hobbled close and kissed him. "I'll always love only you, Mike. I won't make love to any other man -- but sex is different! OK?" He held his wife close and whispered, "I'll always love you too, Trish, but yes, sex is just sex." They became conscious of his manhood stirring into life and realised where they were. "Mummy and Daddy might come back," said Trish. "We'd better get decent." They parted and pulled their shorts back up, both aware of what they had just decided. They were back in their chairs sipping wine when their parents rejoined them. "Well," enquired George, "have you decided anything?" Trish reached over and held Mike's hand for courage as she replied, "We'd like to try a weekend at Greengages." Mike squeezed her hand and confirmed the decision. "Good," said her mother. "I thought you probably would. While we were in the house I phoned Tom and said you might be interested. He's invited you over tomorrow for the weekend. It's all strictly personal invitation and introduction at Greengages." She smiled, "Tom said we'll have a little welcoming party for you, if you come. There won't be too many there. "Listen," she continued, "let me stress from the very start, nobody will ever do anything against your will. You may be asked but you don't have to accept. Unless you want to, of course, then the world's your oyster, as it were!" she grinned. George took up the narrative: "In warm weather especially you'll see lots of flesh - most people don't wear much more than they have to, indoors or out -- but as with everything, that's optional. And don't be surprised if you see two, or often more, having sex right in front of you. There are bedrooms we can all use but often things get passionate and, well let's just say our friends can be quite uninhibited and some of the group are downright exhibitionists." Grinning, he caught his wife's eyes, "Aren't they, Sarah?" "You can talk, you old goat," she retorted. George continued, "But if ever you want any peace and quiet, well there's the library. That is always a neutral zone. The strict dress code in the library is cover-up. Minimum for both genders is shorts and shirt and no sex. Not even a kiss. We're very protective of our library sanctuary. Anywhere else it's anything goes." "It's now Friday evening," Sarah said. "I propose we declare this place under Greengages rules until we leave in the morning, just to get you in the mood. Then we'll all enjoy the real thing." With that she unbuttoned her shirt and took it off. Her shirt was followed by her bra then she stood up and pulled her summer skirt and panties off. Sitting back down naked as the day she was born, she refilled her wine glass and sipped at the contents. George then copied her, saying, "You two do whatever you feel comfortable with. No pressure." Mike looking droolingly at his foster mother's body so Trish checked her out too. Mother and daughter had often been taken for sisters by strangers, once even as identical twins, but the guy had had a few beers. Anyway, Sarah looked just a few years older than her daughter, nothing like the 18 years real difference in their ages. They had both been blessed with generous curves and Mike used to call Trish his blowsy barmaid. Sarah's glossy chestnut waves showed not a sign of grey, she kept hers trimmed to shoulder length while Trish's had never been cut since she was eight years old: she could sit on it and knew it was one of the things Mike loved about her. He sometimes 'handcuffed' her and tied her to the bed with her own hair. She sighed inwardly, '... and that was the last real fun for a year.' It didn't look like an inch of difference between their body measurements anywhere -- they're both 5'4". The mother's boobs are not as springy as Trish's and her nipples were well chewed -- she had breast-fed her baby and had often offered her breast to both daughter and foster son as a comforter until they were about 10 years old. If they woke from a bad dream, Mummy's breast was there to drive away the bad things; Mummy's nipples soothed away the pain from their grazed knees and calmed them when they were fractious. Sometimes she would have Trish at one breast and Mike at the other. But on both women, their nipples perked up prominently, the naked nipples now stiffening in the open air. Sarah's lovely tan showed no bikini lines. She was surprised to see that her Mummy was shaved clean down below, not like her thatch which she kept trimmed just enough hide under a generous bikini. But again Mike liked her dense curly bush, said it retained her sexy perfume. Next Trish looked at Daddy and saw a lean military figure. He stood at 5'10", kept trim by plenty of exercise. His light brown hair was neatly trimmed with a distinguished greying around the temples. His steely blue eyes were his most compelling feature, they could see right through her, she sometimes felt. His upper lip bore a neatly trimmed bristle of a moustache. He was lighting up his favourite pipe and fragrant tobacco smoke drifted in the still air. His spare frame and wiry hard muscles were a fine complement. Her Daddy, too, had shaved his pubic area. His manhood, she noticed, lay softly across his thigh like a big fat frankfurter with a pink circumcised head. "Well," Trish thought, "they've all seen anything I've got, except Daddy since my pre-pubescent days, I might as well join them. Maybe that will drag Mike's eyes away from Mummy." With that she stood and stripped all the way, and nervously sat down to gulp at her wine, conscious of the rough canvas of the chair against her bare skin and her own crinkling nipples. Her parents both smiled at her encouragingly. George let out a long breath. "You've grown up as lovely as your Mummy, darling." she ducked her head in acknowledgement of his compliment then they all turned to Mike. He grinned a little nervously and removed his shirt but went no further. Then it became obvious why: the young man was hiding an erection, or unsuccessfully trying to hide it. He was pink and squirming with embarrassment. It was Sarah who came to the rescue. "Look what we do to our dear men, Trish. They do get so excited." She moved across to him and settled her hands on the fastener to his shorts. "Let me help you." She pulled him to his feet by his waistband and told him to stand still and held his gaze. He was like a rabbit caught in the car headlights, paralysed with fear as his foster mother opened his shorts and manoeuvred them over his stiff erection. She bent down to remove them completely and saw his tool bobbing around in front of her face. His Mum gently took hold of it, kissed the tip, licking at the glistening drop oozing out and said, "There, that wasn't too difficult was it? Would it help if Trish took you to bed? Or if I did?" She pulled Mike down by his penis to sit in his chair then calmly sank her mouth round his tool. Trish was mesmerised by the sight of her mother's mouth filling with it and her tongue working around the tool before she slowly, suckingly, withdrew her mouth, licked her lips and smiled up at him. "Or I could fix the problem right here." Mummy was slowly stroking his tool. "Well, Michael," she licked her lips lasciviously, "what's it to be?" He just groaned, "Oh Mum," and pulled her head to his groin, she knelt on the ground and once more swallowed his tool. Fascinated, and feeling more than a little horny at the sight of her naked mother going down on her husband in plain, uninhibited view, she knelt beside her, admiring her technique. Trish had been so proud of herself when she finally learned the trick of taking Mike into her throat and here was her Mummy doing it like a professional. She came up for air and said to Trish, "Mmmm, he tastes nice, doesn't he?" and returned to her task with great enthusiasm without waiting for a positive response. Mike has pretty good control of himself, Trish thought, he always makes sure I am satisfied before letting go himself -- and it was obvious that he was trying to prolong his experience but with his Mum's mouth working obvious miracles down there it didn't take too long before he groaned loudly and twitched his whole body as he filled her mouth with his spurts. She milked him of every drop then carefully cleaned his slowly softening prick. Standing up, she kissed him on the lips. "Feeling better now, Michael? Now let me take care of Daddy. He's all alone over there." Sure enough, there was George with his hand wrapped around his upstanding prick. "Come here wench," he called imperiously. "Impale yourself on this!" He gave his tool a jerk. "Yes, Master. Coming Master," she giggled as she tripped her way to her husband and she did impale herself on his impressive tool, grunting as she bottomed out. She sat there just gyrating her hips as George squeezed and pulled at her nipples. Watching her mother perform first on her foster son and then on her husband made Trish so horny she was soon tugging and twisting on her own nipples while her other hand was matching her mother's increasing gyrations on and in her pussy. When Mummy threw her head back and screamed, Daddy pulled her more firmly onto himself, and was groaning in his own orgasm, then the shooting stars lit off in Trish's vagina and went all points north and south. Sarah returned to her seat and cleaned herself with tissues then announced, "OK, now we've got it out of our systems, we can all relax." ~oOo~ Look out for Chapter Two coming very soon. Please vote below and feel free to comment either publicly or privately. Greengages Ch. 02-03 Copyright © merf68. Please respect copyright. This is a work of fiction continuing the story from Greengages 01. Any similarities to people or places is purely coincidental. It contains material of explicitly sexual descriptions between consenting adults and includes the following categories: F exhib, M/F, M/F spank inc If any of the above are not to your liking may I respectfully suggest you look elsewhere for your entertainment. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story. ~oOo~ Chapter Two. They spent the rest of that lovely evening drinking, mainly wine. George puffed up his pipe and the parents told their children of some of the more memorable times they'd had at Greengages, with each of them sparking off reminiscences for the other. "Once we had a birthday party for your mother. Everyone came," said George, starting another anecdote. "17 couples, some with their older offspring, and a couple of singles -- but we don't get too many of those. She," he pointed at Sarah who had a lovely grin on her face, "She said, and I quote, 'For my birthday, I wanted to be screwed until I beg for mercy and then screwed some more. I want to pleasure you all.' God, she was amazing. She took on all comers, all day." "I was so sore, I slept alone for a week," she took up the story. "All day the men and women served me marvellously. Fucking my every orifice, spraying me with sperm. The women were taking deposits of sperm in their pussies then sitting on my face so I could have a real sperm-fest. "It was about midnight when I cried 'Pax' but Bergitta ignored me. I don't think you know Bergitta, she's the daughter of Norwegian friend of Tom's. They spend several months in England every year. Well, about 11 o'clock at night Bergitta strapped on a double dildo and settled herself between my thighs for a long session. She just got a glazed look in her eyes and a mechanical rhythm in her hips and kept that prod driving in and out of my pussy, occasionally she'd pause to judder in private orgasm. 'Enough,' I finally begged, 'Please, no more.' Bergitta pulled out, almost annoyed with me for breaking her reverie, she turned me over, slapped my bum hard and sank the dildo into my back passage then continued her steady pace with jerky interruptions. "She continued for about half an hour then slowly withdrew, turned me onto my back again and kissed me. 'Thank you so much, Sarah. I really needed that.' She called your father over to me and suggested he put me in bed. I was covered in dried and drying sperm, in my hair, my face, my tits - why do men like to come on our tits? - but just too exhausted to clean myself up. He tucked me into bed and crept away, leaving me to my memories and dreams of a wonderful day. "I regretted it in the morning. My whole body was raw. Daddy came and carefully washed me down in the shower, then brought me some breakfast after putting a clean nightie on me and changing the bed linen. Believe me, I needed all the pampering I could get. Would I do it again? No, but I sure as hell enjoyed the experience. "Then there was the time," their mother continued, "when your Daddy tried something similar. He promised to give all seven available women three orgasms each. He finished his Herculean task by bringing me off with his big toe. I kid you not, with his big toe! I kept getting fits of the giggles and he'd have to start again. When I finally came he just rolled over and fell dead asleep." They continued through the evening telling tales about Greengages and what Trish and Mike could expect to see. "Don't be surprised," said their father, "if you see women getting together. Or men! There are several bisexual people there." Mike asked, "Do you two walk down that path?" "Well," said Sarah, "you've already heard of me and Bergitta. Yes, I like sex with women. Get three or more women together and we start heterodyning off each other. Lovely: it can go on for hours! And I'm told your Daddy sucks a mean dick." Their father smiled at some happy memory then said, "Give a little, take a little. It all adds seasoning to the sauce." As the night fell and the sun disappeared behind the western hills, they gathered up their things and made their way back into the house and on to the bedrooms where they all changed into warmer clothing against the cool of the night then regrouped in the lounge. George stacked some cds of light classics and they continued the conversation indoors as if there had been no break. They were all drinking quite heavily and Trish had just poured myself another glass of wine when she heard the strains of Ravel's Bolero coming from the sound system. She crossed the room, turned the volume up and started dreamily dancing around the room, sipping at her drink, her inhibitions relaxing with each small crescendo of the compelling music. Soon her movements were becoming erotic and her spare hand was sliding over her breasts, down over her tummy and round to her bum but she wanted both hands free. She noticed the tumbler in her hand was still more than half-full. She poured the rest into her mouth, swallowing as much as she could, uncaring of the rest flowing down her chin and onto her blouse. Still swaying to Ravel's hypnotic rhythms Trish giggled something about her blouse being wet and she should take it off. She tried to do it sexily but by then she wasn't really co-ordinated and those little buttons were too damn tight so she finished by ripping the blouse apart and throwing it aside. A sly smile came to her face as she moved in front of her father, thrusting her breasts at him as she reached behind to unhook her bra. Removing it she made her naked breasts sway enticingly in front of her Daddy's eyes but when he made to touch she backed away again. Standing just out of his reach she lifted her breasts as if offering them to him but always denying his hands. Tiring of this game she stood in front of her mother and encouraged her to stand and dance with her. Trish slowly stripped Sarah and, when she had her naked, she started kissing down her mother's body, finishing on her knees kissing her Mummy's pussy. But she was so inebriated she needed her mother's help to stand again and thanked her with a smoochy kiss before completing her own disrobing, still to the rhythm of the Bolero and wondering if she could last the full fourteen minutes of that tune. Mike, meanwhile, was enjoying the show his wife was putting on, even her faltering movements seemed somehow sexy. Spying the wine bottle in the ice bucket she grabbed it and started pouring the contents -- about half a bottle -- into her open mouth, allowing what she couldn't swallow to cascade over her body, massaging it into her heaving breasts. When the bottle was empty she brought it to her mouth and simulated fellatio for a minute then held the bottle to her already erect nipples, pressing the cold glass hard into them. She slid the bottle over her tummy and started slithering the body of the bottle along her pussy lips before inserting the neck between the lips and slowly masturbated with it. But it wasn't enough for her, she wanted filling properly so she pulled Mike down to the floor, flat on his back and opened his flies to reveal his standing prick. She straddled him, guided his tool inside her and fucked him, still keeping time to the music. As Bolero came to its final crashing chords, Trish arched her back, shuddered, called out a long, protracted, "Oooooh ..." and fell dead asleep on top of him. They had to carry her unconscious body to bed. Chapter Three. As Mike and Trish lay cuddling together the next morning, she made him tell her what had happened last night as she didn't remember much about her exhibition. He asked her if she was happy with the way things had developed and she enthusiastically assured him she was. "Even Mum sucking me off like that?" he asked, obviously a little unsure of her reaction. "That was just soooooo sexy, I was leaking buckets just watching her go down on you. And don't tell me you didn't enjoy it." With that she moved her head down to his limp tool and started sucking it back to life. When he was fully primed she pulled him on top and ordered him to fuck her. He did just that and she had a lovely come just as he filled her with his juices. And if he was thinking of his Mum at the time, she reasoned, that's OK, he made me happy. Later Mike emerged from the en suite shower still drying his hair. He jumped back into bed but Trish urgently needed to go to the toilet. After she had showered she re-entered the bedroom without bothering to cover herself to find Mummy and Mike sitting up in bed. The covers were down to their waists and Mummy was naked as far as she could see. Her mother opened the bedding and invited her to get in beside her, confirming her state of undress. "Daddy's bringing us a cup of tea," she informed us. Almost as if on cue, Daddy opened the door and came in with a loaded tray. He almost looked comical with his manhood dangling beneath the tray. After serving all with a welcome cuppa, he sat on the bedside cabinet next to his daughter, there being no room in the bed for him. They started talking some more about Greengages and George reminded us, "Don't forget, Greengage Rules will still apply here until we leave. Oh, you'll find the Johnsons there today -- and the twins - among others." He paused. "I think you should know that the Johnsons are a close family. Very close." Here Sarah joined in, "This is something you'll get used to. It's nobody's business but theirs. All our women use contraception so there's no chance of children -- you do use contraception don't you, Trish?" Trish confirmed that she did so her mother continued, "We have a few families who play together at Greengages." She smiled then turned to her daughter, "Here's something for you to think about: what if Daddy made a pass at you? You don't have to say anything, just something to think about." Mike had his arm around his Mum's waist and was idly playing with her breast: she had her hand under the covers and from the movements it was obvious she too had found a toy. That left Trish and her Daddy. She jumped out of bed, grabbed him by the flaccid penis and dragged him off to his bedroom on his toes. At the door she paused and called back to her husband and mother, "Enjoy yourselves." They were in each other's arms and kissing before Daddy closed the door behind them. Trish towed Daddy to his bedroom and pushed him back onto the bed, being just a split second too late in releasing his tool which made him squeak. She jumped onto the bed beside him, took his tool into her mouth and thrilled as it quickly expanded and touched her throat. When he was fully engorged she sat up, grinned at him and said, "Daddy, you can consider I've just made a pass at you! Now what?" "Now what, Patricia? You're a very naughty little girl, Daddy will show you 'now what.'" Oops, Daddy was upset, she thought, that's the only time he ever calls me by my full name. He grabbed her by the wrists and threw her over his knee then proceeded to give his daughter's bottom a firm, business-like spanking which had her squealing and squirming against his firm grasp. And randy as hell. He then held her bending over the bed, took aim and plunged his tool into her copiously leaking pussy from behind. Her scream wasn't with pain -- well, maybe a little -- but out of sheer pleasure. Each long, deliberate stroke stirred in her depths as he pulled almost clear then rammed home again deeper, she thought, than she had ever been penetrated, using her hips for purchase and banging his body onto her tender bottom. Trish was hovering on the fringes of cloud nine the whole time until he finally thrust every last fraction inside her and her own waves overcame her in time to his pulsed emissions deep in her pussy. When they were both spent he lay back on the bed and turned her so her leaking pussy was over his face then pulled his daughter down and started cleaning and licking out all the sperm he had just deposited. Now that was something she would have to teach Mike! She also loved the scratchy tickle of his moustache on her sensitive pussy. Daddy's softening tool was in front of her so Trish returned the compliment and cleaned him off, relishing the mingled taste of his sperm and her own juices as Daddy's ministrations brought her to sweet heaven twice more. Cuddling up afterwards -- she did so enjoy that 'after-love' cuddle -- Trish confessed to her father, " I don't like being spanked and if anybody else -- even Mike -- tried it with me he'd sing soprano for the rest of his life. But with you, Daddy, it just seemed so right and downright sexy. Now why should that be? I wonder, yet you could spank me again anytime! (But more and harder next time, please Daddy.)" Daddy said to her, "Are you happy about all this, Trish? And Mike? I mean we've come a long way since you asked about spicing up your love life." "I'm loving it so far and seeing Mike with Mummy, I don't think he's doing any complaining. And you, Daddy, could have had me any time since I learned about sex, but you never even looked at me that way." "Oh, I looked," he said with a wry grin, "but I was always careful not to let you see. Your mother knew and she often had to 'take care of me' in private after you had pranced around in your bikini all day, I swear you did it to tease me." She nodded and grinned her confirmation. He continued, "She was happy to go along with my fantasies. She would call me 'Daddy' and loved it when I called her 'Trish' and 'darling daughter' as she lay beneath me or across my lap taking your spankings. We both agreed it would have to be your call but I've wanted to spank that bottom of yours since you started changing shape." "You can spank my bottom any time you think your Patricia has been a naughty girl, Daddy. I can be a very naughty girl." She put her arms round his neck, spread as much flesh on him as she could, and kissed him, wondering if perhaps she could persuade his lovely penis to come out to play again. "Now, don't you think it's about time we try to catch your Mummy and Mike in flagrante delicto?" He asked, breaking the kiss. "We need to start getting ready for the day. Are you looking forward to it, daughter dearest?" "I suppose I'm a little nervous, Daddy, but yes, I want to try it. This ..." Trish patted the bed, "has helped me lots." They exchanged a friendly unhurried kiss before they rose. As they opened the bedroom door they saw Mike's bum going twenty to the dozen with Sarah on her hands and knees getting royally shagged, doggie fashion -- and obviously enjoying the action by the sound of the squeals. But he was on what he always called 'the vinegar strokes' and was soon grunting as he filled her pussy. They rolled apart and she turned and sat up on the bed next to him, her face wreathed in smiles which turned to a grin when she saw that they had had an audience. "Hello darlings," she panted. "Where have you been hiding this stud, Trish? He's an animal!" "Catch your breath, lovers," said George. "We need to get ready: this little girl," he squeezed his daughter's tit, "is raring to strut her stuff!" "Do we have to right away?" asked Sarah wistfully whilst idly toying with Mike's soft and sticky tool, hoping to bring it back to life. "Been there, done that, never got the tee shirt," mused Trish. "Same result from Daddy this time round." "Yes, we do!" retorted George in response to his wife's plea. "Now move your insatiable arse before it gets spanked, wench." "Looks like you've already done some spanking, my dear, by the sight of poor Trish's bum. What was that for?" "I was a very naughty girl," Trish said demurely, but neither she nor her Daddy elaborated any further. Nor did they ever in future. "OK, give us a few minutes to get cleaned up and we'll be down shortly." Sarah jumped off the bed and back to her own room followed by George, leaving the Trish and Mike alone. "Did you and Dad ... you know ...?" "Did we fuck? Go on, Mike, say it." Trish was feeling outrageous. "Did you and Dad fuck?" "Mmmm, yes. If Mummy hadn't already claimed him, I'd divorce you and marry Daddy," she teased, then kissed him to show she didn't mean it. The kiss turned amorous until Mike pulled away, calling her a nymphomaniac and telling her to unhand him and get dressed. Not much later they were all in the kitchen tucking into cereals with cold milk and chilled orange juice. At about 10:30 they piled into George's car and were on their way: her excesses of last night were only partly responsible for the quivering in Trish's tummy and Mike was feeling similarly nervous. ~oOo~ Look out for the next installment coming soon. Comments and feedback welcome. Don't forget to vote :-) Greengages Ch. 04 Copyright © merf68. Please respect copyright. This is a work of fiction continuing the story from Greengages 01, 02 & 03. Any similarities to people or places is purely coincidental. It contains material of explicitly sexual descriptions between consenting adults and includes the following categories: F exhib, M/F, M/F fetish, tv If any of the above are not to your liking may I respectfully suggest you look elsewhere for your entertainment. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story. ~oOo~ Chapter Four. It wasn't long before they drew up outside Greengages' forbidding gate set in a high wall. George pressed the button on the communication grill and announced them. The gates swung smoothly open and closed behind the car with a soft clang after they had driven through. They followed the neat gravel drive about a quarter of a mile to the great house which looked majestic in the bright morning sun. George parked the car next to three others and they all piled out. Tom, the owner of Greengages, opened the door to welcome them wearing just his shorts. He greeted Sarah with a passionate kiss and then surprised Trish and Mike by kissing their father, which George returned with equal enthusiasm. Turning to his new guests Tom spread his arms wide, extending his greeting to them. "Trish and Mike, my dears, at long last." He kissed the young woman firmly on her lips then turned to Mike. Trish was intrigued to see how her husband would respond to a kiss from another man but their host, instinctively divining the situation, hugged him and gave him a very discrete peck on the cheek. "Come, let's join the others." He ushered them through to the entrance hall and on to one of the side rooms in which there were four other people, all of whom Mike and Trish knew well. Tom's Aunt Tina -- now where did she fit into this set-up, Mike wondered -- started to rise from the sofa when she saw them but George told her not to disturb herself, closing the distance between them and kissing her -- again a lusty kiss -- when she had re-seated herself. Sarah did the same and the younger couple followed suit. George sat next to Aunt Tina on the sofa and held her hand. Everybody called her 'Aunt Tina', though only Tom did by right. She was a spinster in her mid-sixties who just personified unpretentious old world charm. Not that she was in her lavender and lace dotage by any means. A tall slender woman with a mane the colour of pale gold held back by a baby blue Alice band which matched her quick, intelligent eyes set in a face which had many smile lines etched in the rich tan of her skin. Today she wore a crisp white blouse and a faded blue flowered knee-length skirt. Carl and Myra Johnson and their daughter Wendy all greeted the new arrivals in what seemed to be the customary fashion although Mike deliberately presented his cheek for Carl's kiss. Carl had been a junior partner in George's firm and they were all family friends of long standing. Tom invited all to be seated and tinkled a little hand bell. Wendy and Trish got along well enough together though their age difference when they were young was too much for 'best friend' status. Trish suspected Wendy had had a bit of a crush on her and was hurt when Mike and she married. As girls do, she got over it. A short while later there was an excited feminine squeal from a side door and a pretty little maid ran in calling, "Mistress Trish, you came!" She hugged and kissed Trish thoroughly then did the same to an astonished but unresisting 'Master Mike.' Who was this young woman who seemed to know them? both wondered. They'd never known Tom to have a maid and neither could recall seeing her before. "I'm sorry," Trish apologised, peering at the gorgeous girl, perplexed. "Do I know you?" But the maid just stood there, keeping the suspense going with a twinkle in her eye and a gamine grin. "This is Toni," Wendy informed them. "Isn't she lovely?" They both looked at the maid, trying to think who Toni might be although they agreed that she was, indeed, lovely. Her face seemed vaguely familiar but Trish still couldn't place her until Wendy came to the rescue. She stood with her arm around the maid's waist and said, in an almost conspiratorial whisper, "It's Tony, my kid brother." Well, 'kid brother' was a joke between them, she being the older by just thirteen minutes. "What?" They couldn't believe it at first but when they looked closely, they saw that it was in truth Tony behind the expertly delicate makeup and in the figure-hugging maid's outfit. He/she still had that saucy little grin and cocked his/her head to one side with a little shrug. "Toni loves playing the maid, don't you, Little Bro?" Toni dropped a perfect little curtsy and said, "Yes, Mistress Wendy." She then retrieved the tray she had hurriedly set down near the door through which she entered and busied herself serving them all tea or coffee as each preferred. "Well, well, well," Trish thought, still amazed at the transformation of this little hellion she'd known as a kid five years her junior. Tony was the kind of obnoxious little boy who would delight in putting a handful of cold, slimy worms down the back of her dress, or whatever disgusting pranks his devious mind concocted. Just the sort of tricks that make little girls hate little boys, with no sense of anything the least bit 'girlish' in him. But now 'she' carried 'her' rôle off to perfection. Mike was feeling a kind of inner tension. When he had kissed 'Toni', it was with all the enthusiasm which seemed to be the norm here at Greengages and it had just occurred to him that he had kissed another man, a man he had watched growing up from a little boy. Mike was a bundle of nerves when she served his coffee but his eyes followed her as she tripped her way back out of the room with her empty tray, her 4" heels clacking on the stone flags. Tony really looked good when transformed into Toni and Mike felt the beginnings of interest as her pert little butt disappeared from his sight. They all wore light summer clothes to suit the gorgeous weather and everything seemed so 'normal' sitting there chatting about the usual social inconsequentialities amongst old friends. Everybody seemed very tactile to Greengages' latest recruits, and reached out to touch a hand or shoulder or knee frequently but it was all as above suspicion as the proverbial vicar's tea party. Trish don't really know what she expected before they arrived. Probably not a bacchanalian orgy but maybe not quite as innocent as this. Trish was dreamily wondering how things would progress when she was distracted from her reverie by Wendy's invitation to join her in the garden. They linked arms and strolled through the patio onto the bowling-green-lush lawn, beyond which lay the swimming pool. This started a general exodus. George was not far behind the two lovely young ladies, escorting Aunt Tina. His hand was caressing her bum and she was looking up at him, smiling as they chatted animatedly, stopping briefly to exchange a kiss. They wandered off down one of the paths through a small but dense wood which had been wonderful for Hide and Seek the kids had loved when they were children. Wendy settled herself down on the grass and patted the ground, inviting Trish to sit beside her. Sarah and Mike came out next. Sarah whispered something to him and Mike left her and sprawled himself on the lawn not far from his wife and Wendy. On either side of the door was a trestle table. One of them had the crockery and cutlery of a buffet lunch and Sarah casually removed her shirt and dropped it on the other, otherwise empty, table. Tom came up right behind her and unclipped her bra with the words, "Let me help you with this." She turned and ran her hand affectionately over his cheek after he had removed and dropped her bra on top of her shirt. "Thank you, my dear." They joined us on the lawn and Sarah lay on her back using Tom's thigh as a pillow and Mike's legs as a footrest, uncaring that when the capricious wind lifted her flared tennis skirt her shaven pussy was open to gaze -- she wore no panties. They were closely followed by Carl and Myra who sat on a swing lounge. They heard the deep chime of the of the gate bell followed by Toni's cry from the house, "I'll get it Master Tom." A few minutes later Trish's Aunt Mary, Uncle John and her cousins, Nigel and James, were ushered in by Toni. They were followed close behind by a young couple who were strangers to Mike and Trish. Toni introduced them as Peter and Shirley. There were kisses all round as the newcomers joined the rest on the lawn. Peter's kiss told Trish that he was 'available' so she surreptitiously gave him the once-over when they were all settled. He was quite a hunk, this Peter, she thought. Not tall, maybe five-nine or -ten with the shaved pate which seems to be popular these days. His head bore several scars and that set the pattern for his forehead and particularly eyebrows. His ears tended to stick out and his nose was misshapen but the asymmetry seemed to give the big, open face extra character. They later learned he is a professional rugby player. He had broad shoulders and deep chest down to a thick -- but not fat -- waist with wiry curls peeping out the neck of his England shirt. His hirsute muscular arms ended in hands the size of shovels. His fawn slacks showed the creases of a long drive and he wore a pair of heavy sandals on his powerful-looking feet. This solid block of a man was a distinct possibility, Trish thought. I could pop my cork for him! His smile when he caught her looking seemed to hold a promise. A few minutes later the delectable Toni wheeled out a trolley with a selection of cold drinks. Still feeling just a shade queasy from last night's wine binge, Trish settled for a long cool fruit juice but the most popular drink was white wine, of which there were several bottles in a large silver ice bucket. Toni had changed her shoes to more practical flat heels -- stiletto heels don't work too well on lawns. She was well and truly kissed and groped as she distributed the drinks around the party and seemed to revel in the attention she was receiving. Mike hesitated momentarily before giving her a passionate kiss while running his hand up her leg. Then the perverse thought hit Trish: I'd love to watch Toni go down on him. Toni stood about 5'7" in her flat shoes. Her slim, shapely legs were sheathed in seamed black nylon stockings. The flared skirt ended with starched lace trim a respectable four inches above the knee, the black uniform and miniscule white apron were tightly cinched at the tiny waist -- how had she got herself that slim? -- and closely conformed to the swell of petite, shapely breasts. The modest neckline was also trimmed with lace and she wore a black velvet choker. Tony kept his hair short but you wouldn't believe that Toni's lustrous dark shoulder-length waves were anything but real. Her locks, topped with a lace cap, were a perfect frame for the delicate elfin face. She was a dream and even Trish caught herself speculating what it would be like to make love to her. 'Who would do what, with which and to whom?' to coin a phrase. And to think, twenty-four hours ago she hadn't looked at another man that way and now she'd set her sights both on the most gorgeous hunk in the universe and a lovely transvestite, this after being well and truly rodgered by her father. After a few minutes Peter announced he was going to cool off in the pool. "He's had a two-hour drive to get here this morning," Wendy informed Trish, "and you know what the M5 is like at weekends. But I could do with a dip myself. Coming?" On seeing her friend's reluctance Wendy chuckled, "You don't need a swimsuit here. Keep your undies on if you must. We leave our clothes on the table -- it's easier to rush the table indoors if it rains and we always know where we left them." The two girls followed Peter to the trestle where they all stripped off, Wendy and Peter quickly and efficiently, Trish somewhat more hesitantly. Peter rested his hands on Trish's shoulders when she was finally undressed and looked her over with pleasure and obvious attraction in his eyes. He turned and looked at her mother then back at her. "Well, you're certainly your mother's daughter! Except here!" He tugged at her pubic hair. Trish, for herself, was speechless and almost trembling as she took in the vision holding her. He was even more god-like when naked. His legs were as powerfully sculpted as his arms and chest: everywhere was covered in a dark, wiry pelt which almost hid his tool and ball sac. It felt like her womb was calling him to impregnate her. As he pulled her delightful form into his body and gave her a deep kiss she could feel the curls on his chest exciting her nipples and sending a thrill right through her. He broke the kiss and whispered, "Let's cool off in the pool." Trish didn't want to cool off. She had the hots for him. Wendy was running towards the pool and dived straight in causing barely a ripple as her slim body slid into the water. "Race you," Peter challenged Trish and set off at a run in Wendy's footsteps. "Hey, wait. That's not fair!" she called, pretending petulance as she chased after him, boobs swinging wildly to all points of the compass. He ignored her shouts but waited at the edge of the pool until she arrived. Laughing, grabbed her in a bear hug and threw himself into the water, with Trish in tow. The shock of the cool water had her gasping as she regained her feet still in his clutches. "Get off, you brute. Let me go," she shouted, playfully beating a tattoo with her fists on his chest but she'd have been mortified if he obeyed her. He started wading to the deeper water until it reached their shoulders. Trapping her arms between them he kissed her and at the same time grinding her body onto his. She raised her feet from the floor, wrapped her legs round his waist and returned his kiss with all the passion firing through her body. She felt him lift his feet and almost had a panic attack as their heads sank beneath the surface of the pool, still locked in a kiss but he held her firmly with him as they floated down. When her chest started heaving he pushed them back to the surface and she gulped a lungful of precious oxygen, snorting the water out of her nostrils. Trish was still panting when he kissed her again and once more submerged them. She didn't know what it was but there was something incredibly erotic about underwater kissing and she was more than ready to sink with him the third time. When they resurfaced he told her to stand still and ducked down until she felt the powerful suction of his mouth on her nipple. He stayed down there what seemed to her an impossible time, mouth clamped on boob, one hand clutching her bum and the other wrapped tightly round her back. One nipple was cold in the water while the other was being caressed by a warm tongue. Trish was just shivering with pleasure. As he finally came up for air she felt his tool rubbing up her thigh so she put her hand down to feel it, curious about the size of this big man's cock. She wasn't disappointed, it was built like his body: not too tall but interestingly thick. She was almost cringing at the thought of stretching her pussy around that but her body was urging her on. She pulled her other hand down and caressed that lovely monster, peeling the foreskin back and forth. Meanwhile one of her breasts was being tickled by his chest rug and the other was being thoroughly squeezed and tugged by his big hand. It all seemed to be happening so quickly but she wanted him in her. Now! "Help me," she whispered as she tried to bring his tool to her aching slit. He lifted her by the waist and lowered her slowly down until their organs touched. This is it, Trish thought and pulled her pussy lips apart as her downward progress continued. There it was. She felt it start to penetrate her pussy, forcing the lips wider. No, she thought, no more. She felt split in two and couldn't stretch any further. "No, I can't take it," she whimpered at Peter but he knew better and with quick downward pressure the head was inside her. Her shriek made him hold his position while she got used to it. "Wait," she gasped, just thrilled at the thought that it was actually inside her. After a few seconds she whispered, "Slowly," and slowly was allowed to sink on it, fraction by fraction, feeling every little twitch and spasm until she felt his pubic bone grating on hers. She'd been panting all the time and when she saw him closing in for a kiss she managed a gulp of fresh air and happily sank beneath the surface with him. He started pumping it in and out a little slowly. My god, she thought with a thrill. I'm getting fucked by real hunk - underwater. She couldn't believe it but it was happening. His movements speeded up a little and his drawback got bigger with each thrust. It seemed to her that she seemed to last much longer underwater this time but eventually had to come up for air, losing George's prick in the process. As his tool dragged out of her pussy, the cold water flooded her shrinking passage sending new thrills through her body. He joined her on the surface again and lifted her so she was again repositioned with his tool just inside her pussy and, kissing again, they submerged. He thrust her all the way down onto his prick and started ramming it into her until she just exploded inside but she could only hang on, wanting desperately to squeal. He kept her impaled as he brought her head above water, a primal scream was passing her lips even before she hit the surface, the sound strangely distorted by the water. Peter started fucking again faster and faster until Trish knew he was almost there then took a deep breath and kissed him. Understanding her intention he took them both down and she felt his seed flooding into her womb and through her body. As they relaxed and relished the post-climax spasms, she allowed the air to trickle out of her lungs to relieve the pressure and they sank lower until Peter finally pulled them back up. They stood neck deep in the water holding each other tightly, both panting, as his tool slowly softened and diminished inside her until it finally just dropped out and her pussy got another cold dunking. He picked his lover up, carried her to the side of the pool where he deposited her before levering himself out by his powerful arms. He stood her on her feet and with his arm around her waist he guided her back to the others on the lawn although it felt to her like she was walking bow-legged. Her eyes first sought out Mike. He'd just watched his wife being fucked by a stranger in front of all their friends: how would he react? She caught his gaze. He was happy, everything was OK. "And you never even let your hair down," Mike laughed at his wife. It was true, Trish's pigtails were still piled and looped about her head looking like tangles of rope when wet, she reached up and pulled all the pins out, shaking the pigtails free she started to squeeze the water out. Toni came running across the lawn with an armful of towels. "Here I am Mistress Trish," she called and wrapped Trish in a huge fluffy towel. She dried her all over, not hesitating about going between Trish's legs gently, but making sure she was clean down there after Peter's ministrations. When she was done, Toni wrapped her in a dry towel and turned her attentions to Peter who received the same efficient service. "They must have heard you in the next county," said Mike to his wife when both were dry and Toni was retreating with the used towels. "Jeez, Mike, if you'd been impaled on what I was impaled on, they'd have heard you in Scotland." Trish looked down to Peter's tool to make her point but it looked innocuous now, just peeping out from the curls. She pointed to it and said, "Don't let that fool you. There's a monster lurking in there," then softened the joke by giving Peter a no-holds-barred kiss and whispering, "Maybe we can coax that monster back out sometime." Greengages Ch. 04 "That's a date," he responded, patting her bottom. Trish put the towel on the grass and spread herself, closing her eyes and feeling the sun warm away the chill of the water. She became aware of Wendy walking towards the group gathered in the garden, water dripping from her body, blonde hair plastered to her head and across her face. There wasn't an ounce of fat on her slim, almost boyish, hips. Her little breasts were pert cones topped by cute nipples in perfect harmony with the rest of her body. She was shorn down below except for a blonde vertical bar above her clitoris. Toni was ready with her towels then Trish invited her to share the towel on the grass. Wendy sat beside her almost with awe in her eyes. Trish raised an inquisitive eyebrow and her friend whispered, "I don't know how you did it first time. I've tried and tried but I just can't take Peter." She sighed wistfully. "I'm just too small down there." "Tell you the truth, Wendy, I don't know how I did it. Just when I thought he was going to tear me apart, it went in. Oh god, was it ever in! Does he always do that underwater thing?" "Most of us don't like it but your Mum does. She seems to take him easily, too. Me, the first time he tried it I just freaked out and panicked and never went near the pool while he was in it. But he's OK about it and won't try it again if you don't like it. Did you? Like it, I mean?" "It was so sexy, Wendy. Maybe it's the element of danger and the blood pumping in your head when you need air. Maybe ... I don't know. It was exciting. An incredible orgasm." And her loins stirred at the memory. "Yes, we all heard you come! Well, fine for you, Trish, if you like that kind of stuff. But not for me!" She shuddered briefly then conspiratorially whispered, "It's my ambition to have Peter inside me. God, how I want him." ~oOo~ Look out for the next installment coming soon. Comments and feedback welcome. Don't forget to vote :-)