A Bit of Ticle and Polish

A BIT OF POLISH AND TICKLE

Part Two of the Little Standing Chronicles

I'd left myself, at the end of part one, sexually satisfied in an English field. I'd met Tanya not long after I'd left my new home to stroll down to the local village and generally scout out the locale. I'd heard her curses coming from behind a hedge and so had popped my head over the nearby five-bar gate. Tanya had nipped over the gate herself so that she could relieve her full bladder. Unfortunately, as she squatted down, her knickers had become caught in a large branch by the hedge. I was greeted by the sight of a pale bottom pointing at me whilst a fulsome jet of piss cascaded downwards and her awkward turning had ensnared her even more firmly onto the branch. At her insistence I had climbed the gate, helped extricate her (which entailed me stripping her from the waist down) and then, in very short time, I hardly know how, had found myself balls deep in her pussy as she clung to the old wooden gate. A short, sharp satisfying fuck had then followed.

As I helped Tanya, she explained that by peeing by this gate, part of my property, she was performing a more modern version of an ancient local custom whereby neighbours would leave their "scent" on one another's doorsteps as a way of greeting them. Tanya was bright and breezy and I estimated in her mid-twenties or so. Almost as soon as we'd finished our rutting, she'd passed a few civil words and then gone on her merry way, leaving me in a bemused but happy state. My desire to see the village had waned and the night was now closing in. I felt a post-coital tiredness creeping over me so walked back up the short path back to my newly bought Manor house, had a large whisky and then retired for the night.

The next day I found that I awoke surprisingly early for me. Having been what can only be described as one of the idle rich for some time I was used to late night partying and late rising. Only part of my wealth was inherited - most of it was obtained by my brainwork in the patenting of a system that had become standard equipment in any production (movies or songs mostly) wanting quality sound i.e. a lot. Today, though, the sun shot golden beams around the heavy curtains, an open window let scents of freshness into the room and I just felt the urge to get up and, perhaps, to continue to explore what I had not seen the night before.

I grubbed around on the floor next to the bed and found yesterday's undies. Immediately I saw the crusty white patch of dried goo on the crotch. Memories of the previous evening's fuck flooded back. I admit I scratched a little at that dry patch and inhaled its aroma of spunk and pussy juice. I threw the garment into the laundry basket and pulled on my satin robe. I headed downstairs and made myself a strong coffee. Then I wandered into what I thought I was most likely to use as a lounge or living room. It was large and old fashioned and I had bought some of the furniture along with the house. I settled myself in a high-backed red-leather armchair - the type that's high sides curve inwards to surround the sitter. I studied the wood-panelled walls and began to imagine how I could update the place. Soon, however, my mind returned to the previous evening.

My robe had opened a little and my circumcised prick lay along my right thigh: as I reclined a cool draft wafting across it. I looked at my neatly trimmed pubes most of which I shave off apart from a patch directly above the root of my penis. The images that sprang to mind of Tanya's piss-gushing pussy, her well rounded arse, her somewhat loose and pliable belly and breasts and also of her finely-haired mound and slit soon had my cock standing to full attention. I hadn't showered the previous evening and I could see little wisps of dried pussy juice still clinging to my pubes. I began to manipulate the sides of my dick and let my fingers lightly run across my ball sac. Maybe it was the fresh country air but I was rampant again and decided the exploration of the village could wait. I parted my robe completely and closed my eyes, the better to bring back memories of Tanya's palely parted butt cheeks as my cock slid between them, and I gave myself up to the beginnings of a delicious wank. Delving my finger into the warm grooves at the base of my cock, where it met my own fleshy pubic mound, I felt a moist, residual, oily substance. I lifted this concentrated juice to my nostrils to once more savour the aroma of Tanya's deepest secretions.

At that moment I heard a definite cough immediately to my left. I sat bolt upright and spun around to see a middle-aged woman, dressed in loose cotton gym wear, standing there with her eyes to the ceiling and a twisted disapproving look to her mouth and face.

"Who the hell are you?" I blurted out.

"Mrs. Carter, your cleaner," she snapped back instantly whilst still looking upwards.

"I don't have a damn cleaner and how the hell did you get in?" I cried, hastily covering my wilting erection with my robe.

"With the key what has been in my family for three generations, is how," came her second snappy retort. "Carters have always cleaned at the manor. That smarmy agent should of told you that." With this ungrammatical remark she finally met my eye. She would have seen the lightbulb of truth suddenly flicker there. She was right. The agent

was

an oily little fucker. And he had, in fact, said that the place was being looked after regularly. Mrs. Carter read this from my face in one second flat. With a curt nod she turned on her heel and made for the exit. "I'll be in the kitchen if I'm needed...once you're dressed," she added as a farewell. I watched her plump, cotton clad bum as it exited the room.

My mind, not to mention my heartbeat, raced. Gradually, however, I calmed and gathered my thoughts. I would be needing a cleaner and as this one would be as good as any. I had already noticed how tidy and dust free the place was so she must do a good job. Additionally, despite being somewhat snippy, she hadn't actually fainted away or run screaming from the house when she had caught me blatantly wanking in the lounge in broad daylight. So not overly prudish then, which would be a bonus in a housekeeper. Right, I thought, I'll go and seal the deal now. After all, it was my own house and I could do what I wanted where and when I wanted and so had no real reason to feel ashamed at being caught with my cock in my hand.

However, to make sure that I wouldn't be the subject of some harassment claim, the robe was tightly fastened as I made my way back along the darkish passageway to the kitchen. I was padding quietly along barefoot, formulating what I would say to her, when I heard a voice. It was Mrs. Carter and she was obviously muttering to herself. The kitchen door was half ajar and this left a gap between the frame and the door of almost an inch and a half such was the way these old houses were built. The bright light from the kitchen shone through this gap into the hall and then a shadow moved across it. I peered through the gap and saw Mrs. Carter squatting down on her haunches just to my right on the other side of the door. She was obviously leaning in to get something from a low cupboard but what I noticed at once was the view straight down her loose, V-necked T-shirt. Her breasts were plumply squashed upwards and together, creating a deep furrow between them that strained at the material as she groped to the furthest reaches of the cupboard with her left hand. I then noticed that as she manoeuvred herself she threw her right knee outwards. This caused the soft material of her track suit bottoms to cling at her bulging sex, giving her a deep camel toe in the process. I was about to enter the kitchen when I thought that I should try to catch the drift of her muttering, to find out if she was angry or not.

"Sat there, bold as brass, with his old thingy in 'is 'and, I dunno. Middle of the morning and not dressed with nothin' better to do with himself than that. Looks like we got another dirty one at the Manor house and no mistake. Still, it were quite a nice-looking thingy... even if he 'ad gone and shaved most of it. Kinky bugger. Still, gave me a little tingle it did... right in my old puss...must have been the surprise I suppose. And one o' them circumcised ones. I quite like that, can see his shape.... better than hanging there like a yard o' carpet. Nice lookin' feller, too..."

Mrs. Carter's obvious lack of real concern and, more importantly, the narrow view of her body, started to arouse me. My flaccid dick had leaked a little warm pre-cum on my thigh but now I felt it begin to stiffen once again. I noted the fat firmness of Mrs. Carter's encased mound and saw the trace of blue veins under the tanned flesh of her bosom as it bulged and squirmed. Although she was dressed in dull work clothes, her face free of make-up and her long straight brown hair hanging down I could see that she had quite fine features. A tanned skin with a healthy glow. Good cheekbones, small nose, fuller mouth and, when she had finally turned her gaze on me in the lounge, I had seen pretty hazel-coloured eyes. An almost Mediterranean appearance over all. Another twist from her made her bosom bulge all the more and at this point I must have made a small groan or sigh.

Her head snapped up but she looked behind her. Improvising in this split second I coughed more forcibly and blustered into the kitchen, making sure my robe was fully wound around me. I pretended to briefly look about the kitchen before suddenly spotting her crouching down to my right. I took a step back from her. "Ah, Mrs. Carter," I began calmly like I hadn't just been staring at her tits, "I wanted to apologise to you. Absolutely unforgivable behaviour on my part," I blustered. "If I had had any idea at all that I was not entirely alone I would not have behaved so disgustingly. You must forgive me. Of course, I understand if you wish to leave and I'll cause no problem about pay at all if you'll only..."

"Hang about, hang about," butted in Mrs. Carter, "what do you mean by "leave"?" she asked, the fierce look returning to her eye.

"Well, if I've upset you and you feel at all, er, unsafe, working here, then I'll understand."

"Unsafe, mister? Unsafe? You wouldn't begin to believe what I 'ad to put up with from the old Colonel. He were a terror at times. No, don't you fret on it. I seen ten times worse in this place than a bloke having a... well, a man er... I mean someone who was..."

"Yes, well we both know what I was up to," I murmured with what I hoped was a disarming shrug and a small smile. "And I'm sorry to have embarrassed you, Mrs. Carter." A moment's silence as we sized one another up and then she nodded. A nod, it seemed, was Mrs. Carter's way of concluding a conversation.

"We'll say no more about it then," she stated. And then she sighed and began to wander about the kitchen gathering cleaning things and moving items as she talked. "I don't mean to talk badly about the Colonel, really. He were a dear man and looked after me and my family. Just, as he got older like, he wasn't able to behave as he wanted to really. I mean, he liked the ladies did the Colonel but I suppose it catches up with us all in the end. And he got quite sad and lonely, turned most people away. Just me and a couple of others stayed close."

As she bustled I took her in. Smallish, a little over 5 foot, slightly stocky. Sturdy might be the word. A pale cotton T-shirt tantalisingly clinging to a good-sized bosom, with a dark brassiere showing beneath it. Grey cotton pants that, as she turned to and from me, I could see were still rucked up into her various crevices from when she had stood up quickly. When she had her back to me the divide of her buttocks was clear. Full, low buttocks but not wobbling and slack. When she turned to me I sneaked a look downwards to confirm that her bulging sex was still clearly defined and her deep groove had pulled the thin material into it.

Her voice had taken on a contemplative tone and had grown wistful. Almost confessional. "He liked me try to help him out now and again." If she saw my puzzled frown she ignored it. "He liked to watch me cleaning," she sighed. "Liked me to wear different things, too." She nervously glanced at me then continued. "Silly maid's uniforms at first but I stopped that. Ridiculous. But then just tighter things or something a bit skimpy as I bent and stretched about the place," she smiled reflectively. "I would look back at him and he were ogling me something terrible. At first he used to... he used... well, like you were doing today as it happens," she almost whispered. Her soft country accent, with its rounded burring sound was entrancing me and I could imagine the scene she was describing. Once again, I felt a twitch from within my robe. "But then he failed at that. Then," she suddenly blurted out," I even tried to help the old bugger out." She reddened, charmingly. Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Carter continued, "But that only really worked a couple of times and he was back to square one. We used to call it me giving him a bit of a polish and tickle."

She had stopped her pacing by now and was standing in front of me. She looked up at me and her eyes began to swim with tears. "Not long after that he just gave up the ghost and then he... he... he was gone." Her lower lip trembled. "It were me that found 'im in his bed. I knew as soon as I came in the place that summat was up," she wailed and then fell forward to bury her head in my chest as sobs and cries wracked her. Instinctively I held her and tried to soothe her despite my generally useless abilities in such situations. I patted Mrs. Carter gently on the back and slowly rocked side to side as I muttered "there, there" and "never mind" and "that's it" over her head.

I felt her arms snake around my back and grip me. I lowered my face and it seemed natural to gently kiss the top of her head, smelling fresh shampoo aromas and feeling the warmth of her. I felt the bulge of her breasts as they pressed against the top of my belly and the moist heat of her mouth on the skin of my chest where my robe had parted. Her warm and pliant body was pressed up against the length of my front and suddenly I was aware that my prick was hardening. I can only think that as I'd never been the consoling type before my mind only recognised this sort of close contact as a pre-cursor to sex and the inevitable happened. I tried to subtly turn aside so that my prick wouldn't be stabbing into her stomach but this only seemed to make things worse. By turning to my left I had pulled my robe open and pressed my uncovered right thigh hard against the heat of Mrs. Carter's crotch. Additionally, my prick was no longer constrained and it sprung to full attention as it suddenly filled and I felt the delicious sensation of the smooth silk of my gown dragging across my glans. I felt Mrs. Carter's legs part a little so that her warm mound clung tighter to me but my main thought was not to get caught out again, especially at such an emotional moment.

As I tried to edge away my erection popped out from the gap of my robe. I just moved one arm to try to cover myself when Mrs. Carter pulled her right arm away from my back. As our bodies moved her right hand slid right across my hardened penis. She snapped her head up to me. Her eyes were red and her face blotchy but there were other looks there all mingled together. Part accusation, part surprise, part resignation as if to say "typical man", but also part arousal. I held my breath for moments that seemed like hours. Talk about life flashing before your eyes, I imagined a future of court cases for indecency and lechery, headlines of shame and vilification. Then I felt her warm hand shakily grasp my rod once again and squeeze tentatively at the shaft.

I dipped my face to hers and our mouths met in a lustful wet mashing. Our teeth gently knocked together before we got our aim right and we melded our lips. I felt a little flutter of tongue tip on my lower lip and met it with a gentle action of my own. A heavy breath escaped my nostrils as I sunk deeper to her and clasped her more tightly in my arms. She responded by standing on her tippy toes and gripping the back of my head with her free hand. Her right now squeezed harder around my prick. She gave a pulse of her fist and I felt a bubble of my juice pop from my slit. At this her tongue dug deeper into my mouth. I lowered a hand and took a firm hold of her arse, pulling her to me once again. She pushed her humid crotch at my thigh as she had before and I could feel the soft flesh mould itself to my bare leg.

At my instigation we backed up, shuffling across the kitchen floor, still welded to one another. Her butt came to rest against a worktop. I bent my knees, gripped her on the hamstrings and lifted her up onto the smooth wooden surface. Immediately her thighs parted, both her arms met behind my head and we resumed kissing as my throbbing cock got crushed up against her groin. She crossed her ankles behind my back and held me tightly against her pussy.

I began to flex my hips a little and felt the under-ridge of my glans grinding on something. It was the thick waist band of her gym leggings and the knot of the drawstring at the front. The junction of my shaft base and the top of my sac was pressed hard against her puffy mound and must have been pressing against her clitty as I rubbed gently back and forth against her. I felt her hands begin to explore my back and I reciprocated. In perfect synchronicity we loosened our upper body grip then and as I pulled the thin cotton Tee over her long hair she forced my robe from both my shoulders, exposing my chest. I wriggled my arms free and the robe bunched where her legs surrounded my waist. She flexed her thighs and the only piece of clothing I had worn was off me, joining her T-shirt on the floor.

I drank in the view of her body as she propped herself up with her hands behind her on the worktop. Her bra was a navy blue with a fine lace around the top edging of the cups but was quite plain otherwise. Her belly was just a little lined and a bit flabby now that it was exposed (she was obviously a mother) but the skin was darkly tanned and her navel a cute little dip in its centre. Her arms were firm and only a light down caught the sunlight streaming through the window behind her. However, I also noticed that as she reclined her underarms showed a dark shadow of stubble with what could easily be a week or so of growth. I hadn't seen this on a woman since my band days in 1980's Europe.

Before I could be too distracted the dark cleavage of her bust beckoned me and it heaved as I reached my hands to her. I gently held the sides of her stiff brassiere material and manipulated it together, briefly meeting her glance as she studied me in my exploration of her. Through the fine blue lace part of her bra I could see the darker smear of the top of her areolae. A definite bump thrust at the plain material just below this. I ran first one hand and then both across these bumps and her eyes fluttered. I began to tweak and pull at the protuberances whilst cupping each breast more fully. I lowered my head to her and nibbled at the cloth leaving a darker damp patch over each teat. Then I reached behind her and unclipped the hooks.

As I pulled the thin straps from her shoulders she sat forward and flicked each hand through the loop in turn so that the bra was lofted aside. As, once more, I sank my head to her bosom I noticed that her tits were as deeply tanned as her stomach and arms. I noted the pale blue lines of veins running under the flesh. The nipples were a dark brown colour, as thick as a carpenter's pencil, their dark surroundings gathered in tiny excited ridges around the inch-long jutting flesh. I rolled first one and then the other into my mouth, rasping at the hard puckering of the hot, pliant flesh. Mrs. Carter supported herself on one hand now and cradled the back of my head as if I were a babe suckling. I stroked her firm back along the length of her spine and let my hands wander back to the sides of her breasts. As I licked at the one, I massaged and stroked the other, swapping greedily between the two.