Helen's heart sank as the shop door opened and Brian strode in, smiling confidently. He hadn't been around for several weeks, now, and she had dared to hope, maybe, that ......
But his opening words dashed her optimism.
"Hello, my darling niece," he leered. "And how are you today?"
Helen's flesh crept as she felt her uncle's eyes examine the swell of her breasts under the overall she was wearing, but, paradoxically, she could feel a moistness starting between her thighs as she contemplated the inevitable outcome of Brian's visit.
How many years had it been since that first, awful, time when Brian had coerced her into letting him have her? Five, or even six? Brian had unhesitatingly grasped the opportunity presented to him by Helen's late partner, Greg Turner, when Greg had started to wilt under the pressure – pressure which eventually led him to kill himself – and had impulsively resigned his post as Brian's head gamekeeper, after an accident on a pheasant shoot, for which Greg was undoubtedly ultimately responsible.
Helen had been alone, the morning after Greg's resignation, in the tied cottage she lived in with him. Greg was in France, visiting his daughters, from an earlier marriage, having flung his resignation at Brian in an emotional rage just before his departure.
When Helen heard the knock on the door, and recognized her Uncle Brian, her heart had lifted. He must have come, she surmised, to see if Helen could persuade Greg to change his mind about resigning – and Helen was sure she'd be able to do that, once Greg was back, and she could sit him down and talk to him. So she had hurried to the door, and flung it wide open – but the expression on Brian's face had told a different story.
Clearly, her uncle was in no mood to forgive and forget, and, no matter how hard Helen had pled with him to disregard what Greg had said to him, and to give him a chance to rescind his resignation when he returned from France, Brian remained grim-faced and adamant.
"Look, Helen," he insisted. "You didn't hear what he said to me. He wouldn't tell me what the 'emergency' was and then, eventually, he - well, frankly, Helen, he insulted me, personally, in a way which will be very hard to forgive."
"Oh, Uncle Brian, please give him another chance," Helen argued. "It's just – Greg is such a proud, and private, man. His daughters mean so much to him, and Sonja is at such a very difficult age ......"
Helen's voice trailed off, and her eyes filled with tears as she stared at her uncle's blank, stern face. Returning her stare, Brian's face gradually relaxed, and took on a reflective, thoughtful expression. He leaned back in his armchair, and Helen felt a surge of hope.
"Would you like a cup of coffee, Uncle Brian?" she offered, and he smiled at her.
"Yes, thank you, Helen - that would be nice."
Helen hurried through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Somewhat to her surprise, she realised that Brian had followed her through. He leaned against the door lintel.
"You know, Helen," he said "a lot of people wonder just what it is you see in Greg Turner."
"I know," Helen smiled ruefully. "I see a side of him he doesn't reveal to many people, I think."
"I wondered," Brian went, in a measured, quiet tone of voice "if it was just that he has a big cock."
Helen, scarcely believing her ears, whirled round and looked at her uncle, incredulously. He had straightened up and was standing in the door opening, looking at her.
But, she realised, looking at her in a way she couldn't recall him ever doing before. His dark eyes were lazily taking in the contours of her body - her firm breasts in the angora sweater, and her strong thighs and bottom stretching the tight material of her blue jeans.
Helen's heart began to race, and her face flamed in embarrassment, and anger, but she couldn't think what to say.
"Well?" Brian grinned. "Is that it? Has he got a long thick one that really stretches you? I heard Adam tell Ian that he'd sneaked a look at Greg's dick once, when they were having a piss in the loo at the Bull - and he seemed quite impressed by it. He described it to Ian in a lot of detail ......"
Hating herself for losing her 'cool', Helen managed to stutter - "I - I think you'd better - better - leave, now, Uncle Brian. Get - get - out of my house!"
Brian laughed. "Well - my house, actually," he said. "If Greg leaves my employ, I'll need it for the new head keeper."
"Well, that hasn't happened yet," snapped Helen, "and, until it does, I want you to leave!"
The smile faded from Brian Aldridge's face.
"Oh, do you?" he sneered. "Well, I've got news for you, my girl - I'm going nowhere. I've had my eye on you for some time, now, and I think the time has come for us to get to know each other much better – much more ...... intimately."
Outraged, Helen opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a peremptory hand.
"It's not just the job, or the house, is it, Helen? It's a question of whether or not Jack Woolley takes any action about that 'accident' on the shoot. If he decides to sue, it would ruin Greg. There's no doubt that it was his fault, after all - and I can tell you that the only reason Jack hasn't been on to his lawyers is me. I've persuaded him, so far, not to take action, but all I have to do is withdraw my support - and it'll be curtains for your precious Greg ......"
Helen stared at her uncle, a cold feeling of helplessness stealing over her. She had never dreamed that her uncle would think of her in 'that' way, but there was no doubting his intentions, now – and, deep down, the distressed girl knew that to refuse him would cost Greg his job, his house and, probably, his sanity. Brian's eyes met hers, and, recognizing her probable acceptance of the inevitable, he began to move towards her. Helen backed towards the sink and felt it against her hips, stopping her progress.
Brian was right in front of her, now, and he raised his hands to close them round the twin mounds of Helen's breasts. As she felt his hands close round them, and squeeze, she knew she should push him away, or wriggle free, but, if she did ...... Greg was very fragile, right now, and the consequences, if he were sued over the shoot accident, could even be fatal.
Helen involuntarily closed her eyes as she felt her breasts being explored and fondled. With massive self-control, she let her hands grasp the edge of the sink. Opening her eyes, she dropped them to watch Brian's hands on her sweater. She saw his tongue slowly dampen his lips. He squeezed her, firmly, and she gasped, a little.
"Very nice," Brian breathed. "Very nice tits."
Expertly, he located her nipples through the sweater, and her bra, and rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers. Helen felt a little quiver of excitement as her nipples reacted to the pressure of his fingers. Somewhat irrelevantly, the sudden thought came into her mind that he was probably quite good at arousing a woman's body - he had had enough practice, if all the stories were true ......
But, suddenly, she – no! - she couldn't just let him ...... She grabbed the backs of his hands, trying to pull them away.
"No! No!" she gasped. "You mustn't - please, Uncle Brian. Please! No!"
It was then that she realised he had closed in on her completely - and that his lower body was pressing hard against hers - and, she could feel the hard solid length of his erection against her belly ......
Brian hadn't been so far off the mark when he had suggested that it was the size of Greg's penis which attracted her. Helen had always been a keen student of the male appendage, and had lost no opportunity, when growing up, to snatch a look at her father's – and her brothers'.
She had even watched, unobserved, several times, when her parents had spent the occasional Saturday afternoon in bed, and had listened, fascinated and highly aroused, to the fantasies they wove around their lovemaking. She had not had a very good view, but she had seen her father's erection two or three times, and had been dry-mouthed with excitement at the thought of taking something like that between her legs
But it was her brother, John - now dead - who had interested her most. She had been about thirteen when she first saw him, then aged about sixteen, naked, and the thickness and length of his young penis had taken her breath away. She wished, now, that she had had the courage, while he was alive, to creep into his room and let him play with her developing body while she got her hands round that massive piece of flesh between his legs.
She had tried, several times, to see him fucking the arse off that stupid girlfriend of his, Hayley, but she had had to satisfy herself - literally! - with her fingers up her own soaking twat while only being able to listen to Hayley squealing with pleasure as John's huge prick split her in two ......
Informed opinion in the village had always suggested that Brian Aldridge was fairly well-endowed, and, Helen thought, the length of the piece of taut flesh pressing against her belly was, as far as she could tell, well up to expectations.
Brian's hands were now squeezing Helen's breasts hard, and he was dry-humping her, her hard cock pushing against her, then receding. She realised that her protests had ebbed away - and that the area between her legs was moistening, rapidly. The thing was - with all his worries, Greg had been no bloody use in bed for about six weeks, and ......
Helen's resolve was weakening. She was a girl who had always enjoyed being penetrated, and six weeks was a long time. Helen couldn't help herself. Her hand slid between their two bodies, and her fingers traced the shape and size of Brian's thrusting cock. Her palm closed over it, and Brian groaned in a mixture of pleasure and triumph, and his mouth closed on hers. Helen opened her lips and pushed her tongue up into Brian's mouth.
Waves of desire were now sweeping through her, mingled with acute sensations of shame and self-disgust.
She tore her mouth away from Brian's and buried her head in his shoulder. "You dirty bastard," she mouthed, with feeling - "I don't believe you can do this!"
