A Brush With The Past Pt 02

A brush with the past: Two

Note 1: This story follows directly on from 'A Brush with the Past;' it takes up immediately where the previous story leaves off. It would be advisable to read 'A brush with the past' first to make sense of the context and beginning.

Note 2: The WI stands for the Women's Institute, an organisation of women in the UK for social/cultural activity. Formed in 1915, the Women's Institute was originated to revitalise rural communities. Known affectionately as 'Jam & Jerusalem'

Note 3: This took an unexpected twist; I didn't mean for it to go down this particular path, but it seemed to take on a life of its own.

I am never good with categories, or for that matter, specific tags; it all just seems to wander off in different directions. Everything contained within these pages are works of complete fiction. The characters in this story are themselves entirely fictional. They do not exist, never have, and never will, and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, whether by name or by description, is purely coincidental and unintentional.

The author does not condone behaviour like those exhibited within these pages other than in a world of pure fiction. When the term girl is used, it is a derogatory label, and everyone in this work of fiction is over eighteen.

However, all that said, this is just a story dragged up from the wild and violent tides of overthinking, which have taken a heavy toll; these thoughts dim the light and usher in the black dog that asks, 'What if?'

A brush with the past: Two

Teresa led the way to her bedroom. It was a large, softly lit room; there wasn't a great deal of furniture, an enormous dark wood four poster bed with elaborate ornamental drapes, and two bedside tables with striking lamps.

Teresa directed Phoebe to kneel, knowing that getting her to sit with her full weight on her sore backside would be too distracting.

She stood in front of Phoebe and said, "Phoebe, my love, I have one more very big secret I want to share."

Then she sighed, gripping the hem of her camisole top and pulling it up over her head, revealing her impressive breasts.

Teresa watched Phoebe's reaction very carefully as she brought her hands up to fondle her breasts. Her chest had always been everyone's focus, and she liked touching her breasts and nipples. Both sexes had admired their size and shape; her 5'10, long-legged body was true centrefold material, and her D cup breasts were not just large; they were perfectly shaped and placed high on her chest.

Teresa struck a pose, placing her hands on her hips. She made a slight turn to her left as she inhaled, pushing her chest out. She heard Phoebe draw a breath and murmur, "Beautiful."

Teresa's hips were draped in the luxurious red mulberry silk knickers; she hooked her thumbs into the waistband. Teresa squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to prevent the tears that had gathered from falling. She was terrified; she couldn't stand any hint of rejection; she had fallen hard for Phoebe, and the thought of Phoebe being horrified robbed her of all her confidence.

It took every ounce of courage for her to push her knickers down over her hips. Gravity took over, and the silk garment fell down.

"Oh my god..." Phoebe whispered before falling silent.

Teresa wanted the ground to open up and swallow her; she opened her eyes but couldn't see as the tears fell. She wanted to run, wanted to hide.

Then she felt Phoebe's arms around her and she shuddered.

"Teresa, did you realise you have some man bits where your lady bits should be?" Phoebe said, then giggled as she wrapped her slim fingers around the flaccid shaft.

Teresa coughed, trying to stop her tears and stifle a small laugh as her cock twitched, blood rushing to swell the girth and lengthen the shaft. Phoebe's fingers were pushed apart, her fingers unable to contain the growing beast.

"You're not disappointed?" Teresa asked quietly.

"I have only been with two boys before, both disappointing and a real letdown. I want to be with you, Teresa Terry; you couldn't possibly let me down. You will have to be gentle with me; you're very big, and I want you to show me how to please you properly." Phoebe responded, trying her hardest to sound reassuring.

"You really don't mind, my love?" Teresa asked again.

Phoebe stretched up on her toes, placing a soft kiss on Teresa's lips. "Stop your fretting, Miss Terry, and just love me... I want you inside me."

Using her small hand around Teresa's cock, she pulled, walking backwards towards the bed. Teresa followed, a stupid grin on her face, determined to treat the amazing woman that was Phoebe Gates gently, with infinite tenderness.

They reached the foot of the bed, and Phoebe pushed herself up, wincing slightly as her bottom settled on the bed. She wriggled a little, still a little unsure and nervous, but Teresa couldn't help but admire Phoebe's look of determination.

Phoebe wanted to play the naughty little minx, so she parted her thighs, exposing her delicate pussy so wantonly, glistening with her own lubrication as her fingers moved down, teasing herself.

It took all of Teresa's strength not to fall on the grinning Phoebe and just take her.

Teresa used her hands to push Phoebe's knees wider, then she moved her face down, nuzzling Phoebe's thighs, her skin soft and warm against Teresa's cheeks. She breathed in Phoebe's delicate feminine fragrance, every sense in her body screaming to push her face deep into Phoebe's dripping wet sex.

Reverently, Teresa's hands wandered, brushing over her flat stomach and up over her breasts, teasing her nipples.

Teresa grinned up at Phoebe, her cheeks flush, her teeth biting her lower lips as Teresa's face descended, then using the tip of her nose to brush gently through the crease of Phoebe's delicate sex. She ran her mouth over it, and Phoebe whimpered, her hips lifting slightly. Phoebe was watching intently, her eyes full of lust, her nipples hard, straining to be touched, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Teresa moved her mouth over Phoebe's silky smooth mound as she felt Phoebe's fingers slide into her hair. Teresa loved hearing Phoebe's involuntary little gasps and sighs as her tongue began to explore all over.

She searched with relish the soft folds and delicious spots that made Phoebe tremble; her tongue teased and caressed the sweet, tight slit, and then she thrust her tongue forward, delving deep into Phoebe's sex. Stroking her tongue in and out as her hands slid up Phoebe's flat stomach, feeling the rhythmic tensing of taut muscles beneath her skin, and up further, filling her hands with Phoebe's small breasts, feeling her arch her back up with a gasp.

Her palms grazed Phoebe's nipples, making her shudder, and then her hands squeezed her breasts hard, her thumbs ruthlessly toying with Phoebe's nipples.

Teresa moved her head, flicking her tongue, pushing across the rigid nub of Phoebe's clitoris; her legs began kicking, her sex contracting as she orgasmed so intensely; her body quaking in aftershocks as Teresa seizes the moment to lift herself up and move between Phoebe's thighs.

"Are you sure, my love?" Teresa whispers, seeing tears in Phoebe's eyes.

"Yes, yes, I want all of you," Phoebe whispered, and Teresa was almost overwhelmed with the intensity of emotion that was quickly threatening to overpower her.

Phoebe decided to take charge; she wrapped her lithe, supple legs around Teresa's waist, then reached down to grasp Teresa's rock-hard cock. She pulled, pushing the bulbous head against her wetness.

She wriggled; she was so wet and hot. Teresa dipped her hips slightly, finding the right spot, then pushed forward. Phoebe gave a little gasp, her eyes opening wide as the head of Teresa's cock slipped inside her.

Teresa savoured Phoebe's perfect tightness--the feeling of slick, wet heat. She pushed again, and Phoebe whimpered as her arms wrapped themselves around Teresa's neck tightly, clutching at her. Phoebe could feel her own tightness; she was being stretched; she tried to squeeze down; the pressure is so intense, so beautiful.

Teresa held herself still, whispering endearments and gentle words of love and wanting. Suddenly, Teresa felt Phoebe's hips move, bucking up, rocking herself. She pulled Teresa's head down and started kissing deeply, passionately.

Teresa sank deeper into Phoebe's sex; they looked into each other's eyes and only saw the love and happiness they were both feeling reflected back at each other.

Phoebe loved the sensation of stretching, pressure, and fullness. She felt Teresa's pelvis bumping into hers; she kissed her again, fighting to bury her tongue deep into Teresa's willing mouth.

Teresa broke the kiss, dipping her head to take one of Phoebe's hard pebble nipples in her mouth. She cried out as she did, a euphoria rising like a tide; her legs started to tremble and her muscles started to clench. Teresa picked up the pace with deep, full thrusts, burying herself as deep as possible. She groaned as Phoebe clutched at her; she couldn't help her fingers from digging into Teresa's back.

Moments later she shattered; her body exploded into a million pieces as Teresa thrusts became frantic, wildly erratic, and brutal. She buried herself as deep inside Phoebe as it was possible to go and screamed her release in that perfect moment of La petite mort, and while their worlds collided, they clung desperately to each other.

~~oOo~~

They held on to each other, the bedding hardly disturbed as they snuggled under a warm, comfortable duvet. The roller coaster of emotions now spent and a contented lassitude overtook them.

Phoebe murmured, "Tell me."

Teresa's words, spoken softly through the darkness, were careful and emotionless. "My mother ran away from the village when she was sixteen; she wandered the world through Asia, Australasia, and finally the Americas. She settled in some religious cult commune in California, where she had me. I was just called 'boy' and was pretty much ignored by everyone in the commune, so I grew wild and feral. I never had shoes and just wore whatever I could scrounge. When I was about nine or ten, I think, and I don't know why, but I was put on a plane and delivered to my grandmother. I haven't seen my mother since; I don't even know where in the world she is.

As soon as my grandmother saw me, she gave me the name Teresa, and it felt totally right somehow, and she brought me here to live. I was happy in the pretty dresses she provided, and given that my hair already reached my bottom, everyone just accepted me as a girl. Somehow a birth certificate was found in the name of Teresa, and the required official records materialised as if everything was normal.

Grandmother taught me at home until I went to university, and the only other person who knew about me was our local doctor, and she died a couple of years ago.

Honestly, I don't know what I am; these breasts grew naturally when I hit puberty. I believe for some reason the village accepts me and moulds me in the image it wants." Teresa fell quiet, her truth spoken for the very first time.

"Bloody amazing, that's what you are." Phoebe whispered before kissing Teresa's lips lightly.

Finally they slept, wrapped in each other's arms.

~~oOo~~

It was 8am, and Martha was slightly worried; normally Miss Teresa was up and in the kitchen when she arrived, but it was obvious that she hadn't gotten up yet.

Martha decided to take Miss Teresa's morning coffee upstairs to her bedroom.

She carried the tray carefully, knocking softly on the door before she went in. She put the tray down, then opened the curtains to the weak winter sun.

She turned, looking over at the bed.

A wide smile lit her face; there were two heads, their foreheads touching, their shallow breathing in sync.

Martha left the room quietly, happy that Miss Teresa and Miss Phoebe had found each other.

~~oOo~~

Phoebe was relaxed; her eyes were closed, her breathing light and shallow; the leather couch had moulded itself to her slim body, cocooning her.

It had been a month--a wonderful month where she and Teresa explored and discovered each other. She hadn't returned home except to visit and collect clothes, only to return to Teresa's bed.

The slow, steady tick of the long case clock matched Teresa's soft voice. "The mind has a wonderful way of altering our memories of what happened based purely on the emotions we feel at the time. For example, I could play a record by Prince Buster, who according to you was a Jamaican artist synonymous with ska and incidentally a rather beautiful black man, and yet, in your mind's eye, you will see a very white and very English woman cooking a traditional Sunday roast. Whereas before your mum passed, the memory of her singing Downbeat Burial at full volume brought you happiness, now it makes you sad.

That is simply your mind projecting its emotions over the memory.

The song and your mother's singing aren't any different than the first time you actually experienced it. What has changed is your emotional state, and that changes your perception.

From the moment you touched me, shaking my hand, I fell in love with you. I didn't expect to, and I certainly wasn't looking for love, but now you are my entire world. As a result, I also gained a different perception of how I want my life to be, and honestly, it would be scary without you. Seeing you willingly bent over the academy's chair and picking up my grandmother's tawse produced the most intense, visceral feelings I have ever experienced. My reactions, my feelings, and the reality of having my eyes opened were all consuming, so much so that it must only have come from inside me. You opened a door, you tore off the restraints, and now there's no going back."

Phoebe's hand rose slowly from her lap. "Err, you do know I am not in your hypnotic trance, don't you?" She said, with amusement.

"Yes, of course, cheeky girl; I was trying to be serious. Is that something you want--to be under my spell, little girl?"

Phoebe laughed, "I've been under your spell from the moment I laid eyes on you. I never believed in love at first sight; I didn't even realise that I was attracted to girls, but you changed all that in ways I couldn't imagine; you are the very best of both worlds, and I love you to the stars and beyond, Teresa Terry. The thing I don't understand though is why everything has to be analysed and explained."

"Ok, so I do know I tend to overthink everything, but what if this new direction is ultimately destructive?" Teresa responded.

"Then we stop, we find another direction; everything is about choice; what I know for certain is that any choice I now make involves you, because for me, it's all about you and being with you. Oh, and incidentally, you do know I am not wearing any underwear?" Phoebe said with a cheeky grin.

Teresa laughed, "Well, well, little girl, that definitely deserves a spanking!"

Wordlessly, Phoebe rose, crossing the short distance to Teresa. She bent over the offered thighs of her lover while simultaneously flipping her dress up to expose her naked bottom.

Teresa knew she was going to enjoy herself; Phoebe's bottom was warm and soft, and as she stroked the pale skin, she was determined to finish what she started. There was a reason for her startling the conversation, so she picked up where she left off: "You must realise, Phoebe, my love, that Witching Holt is a rather special place; when you enter the village, you are effectively stepping back in time. Only true and hereditary villagers live here, and they all adhere to that Cotswold, early 1950s village ideal. Think of it as a cliché, or perhaps a pastiche of Father Brown's Kembleford or Miss Marple's St. Mary Mead.

The only difference is that this village is a closed matriarchal society; sure, the men work to keep their wives, but it is definitely the women who rule, and the WI enforces the status quo.

The wives do not work, but they do volunteer, and of course they all participate in the WI. They have to perfect the role of hostess, and they must also be a beautiful adornment on their husband's arm at functions while keeping their homes immaculate. This isn't without its own rewards; the village is guaranteed financial security and exclusively.

The villages have far more freedom and the means to choose how they spend their time than most others; morals here are flexible.

The WI meetings are most interesting, and the committee meetings are very particular, and that's where I come in, so it's important that you understand all of it."

Phoebe turned her head to look up, and before she could answer Teresa, the first spank landed with a sharp retort. Phoebe giggled "Oh, Miss Terry," wriggling her bum in response.

"Naughty little girl, keep still!" Teresa ordered trying to keep her own giggle under control at Phoebe's wriggling. She delivered the second spank much harder, a sharp uppercut making Phoebe squeal delightfully.

"That's better now; starting tomorrow, I want you to take Martha in hand." Slap, her hand delivered a third spank. "Martha has a rather nice plump bottom, ideal for you to find out what it is like to give rather than receive." Slap, the fourth spank landed squarely.

"0w... Please miss; it stings."

"Yes, little girl, it is meant too, so concentrate." Teresa said as she started a series of rapid smacks covering both cheeks, down strokes, followed up strokes, not an inch of quivering bottom was missed as Phoebe howled, her legs scissoring.

Teresa paused, taking the time to soothe Phoebe's heated bum. "Time for bed, Phoebe; I am in the mood for a taste of your sweet little pussy.

Phoebe didn't need telling twice; she rolled off Teresa's thighs, then jumped up, her skirt falling back down over her bright red bottom, any thought of pain forgotten. She turned to face Teresa and performed a small cheeky curtsy, then said, "Thank you for my spanking, Miss Terry." She laughed, then dashed from the room.

Teresa laughed as she chased Phoebe up the stairs.

The moment they got through the bedroom door, Teresa took Phoebe's face in her hands and gently kissed her pursed lips. Phoebe eagerly kissed back, slipping her tongue between Teresa's lips so that the kiss deepened.

The two young women moaned deeply in unison, melting into each other; they kissed again and again. Phoebe started kissing her way down Teresa's neck, soft little kisses, caresses almost. She moved slowly, allowing Teresa just to give into the moment. She reached up and unzipped the back of Teresa's dress, pushing it down so that it glided gracefully downwards.

Teresa realised that somehow Phoebe had already removed her own clothes and was, as she said, not wearing any underwear, so she placed her hands on her petite breasts, gently kneaded the soft flesh. She leant down and began placing little butterfly kisses all over her delicious breasts until she reached one of Phoebe's delightfully puffy nipples. She teased it with her tongue, then drew it into her mouth, sucking gently at first, then with more intensity. She felt the nipple grow hard and heard Phoebe's guttural moan as she sucked and played with it with her tongue. Then she switched sides and repeated the teasing on Phoebe's other breast.

As she sucked, Phoebe was busy undoing the front fastening of Teresa's bra, exposing her much larger breasts. She used both small hands on one breast to fondle and squeeze, tugging and pinching at Teresa's sensitive nipple. She used a hand to slip into Teresa's knickers and grip her cock, giving her the advantage to direct Teresa down on to the bed and lay her down, then leaning over to begin kissing Teresa from her forehead down, down her neck, and to her breasts. She pushed the two firm, large breasts together, then alternated from one nipple to the other, licking and sucking them in such quick succession.