Deserted Lane

The young woman took a different path home; down a rundown lane with faded houses, overgrown gardens, and lots of stray-but-well-fed cats.

An old woman in antique clothing was tending to a broken fence gate. She sees the young woman and smiles sadly. "Young Miss? Could you please help me? This old gate is stuck and from the outside."

The young woman pushed hard on the gate, and it swung open. But a splinter from the dry grey wood got deeply embedded in her hand.

"Oh dearie! I am so sorry... Do come in, I can get that out for you. My tweezers are in the kitchen."

The interior of the house was surprisingly neat, compared to the weathered state of the exterior. There was classical music playing elsewhere in the house... there must be someone else here... the music has a faraway sound.

"All right, dear, let's see that hand. Ouch, that is a nasty big one!" The old woman shows the young woman the splinter she had removed from her hand. "Best clean up that wound."

The woman pours some brandy over the wound. "Feeling faint, dearie? There, take a bit of this... safe for ingestion this is!!!"

Hah-ha!

A few sips... then, oblivion. The young woman had been out for hours... the weak sun that made it past the tattered curtains in the upstairs bedroom told her.

But she was... OH HORROR! Naked... groggy still... tied... gagged... and covered in a sticky, white substance, dry and cracking in places. Bleeding from vagina and anus... she was cold.

The old lady entered the room. She was carrying a basin of steaming, soapy water and a washcloth and towel. "OH. You do need a wash! My husband and his mates really must like you. That horrid man ejaculated several times on you. He made a vow not to cum in any other woman, after I refused him years ago. Whatever else he is, he is a man of his word.

"Heavens. His mates really did your fanny and bum. They are lovely fellows, but being widowers, they have no outlet for their spunk. And it would be unnatural if they fell to bugger each other."

The old woman kept up this chatter as she washed her husband's spunk from the young woman's body. His mates' spunk was mixed with blood and shit from the young woman's bum. And the old woman wrinkled her nose in disgust but made no comment. The young woman's no-longer-virginal fanny dripped blood and spunk and vaginal secretions.

"Your first time, lassie...? Don't fret, it gets better some tell me. I never cared for it. I shut off my hubby after my change. Too dry after I stopped having my monthly visitor. You just have to take care of yourself, I told him."

The old wife had finished cleansing the young woman. She stared hard at her. "I will remove the gag and give you food and drink if you are quiet. Hubby is sleeping off his fun with you and his drink. I will not have you disturb him."

The girl nodded to indicate she'd be good... and wolfishly devoured the stew offered to her and a steaming mug of overly sweet tea, a chocolate bar, and a hot-buttered rum. Exhausted and drugged, she fell into a deep sleep.

She awoke warm, under clean sheets and several wool blankets. Her gag and restraints were gone; instead, thick hemp ropes tied her down over the covers.

The old lady appeared in a few minutes shuffling into the room in slippers, a nightgown, and a dark fuzzy robe. For the first time as a captive, the young woman spoke. And just one word.

"Why?"

The old lady answered with an air of resignation. "Men is why."

Wordlessly, the old woman untied the girl and led her to the bathroom. While she watched the young woman do her business, she envied the slim physique— the tight abs; tight, round buttocks; and small, firm, perky tits. She licked her lips in anticipation.

After the bathroom wash-up, the girl was led upstairs and sat in a chair naked while the old lady dressed for her day.

First, she kicked off her slippers and put on thick wool knee-high socks. With a glance at the young woman, and a slight hesitation with a sigh, she removed her robe and then her nightgown revealing a fit, elder body.

Though slightly bowed, her posture was good, her breasts sagged but not excessively, she had a slight soft belly but was not fat, only her buttocks were jiggly and soft. Her sex was covered with a thick tangle of steel-grey pubic hair, from which her pussy lips protrude.

Again, she glanced at the young woman. Again, a moment of hesitation. "If you kiss me, maybe I can help you."

Without waiting for a reply, the old woman went to the seated young woman and kissed her tentatively on the lips. She stepped back, taking stock of what she had done and also appraising the young woman's reaction, and lusting after the sweet taut young figure.

"I don't want anything from you, my husband and his mates have taken too much. I just now realize what I am, I need to look at you, but I won't touch you."

The young woman was forcing herself to be calm, whatever was going to happen this seemed her only way of salvation.

The old woman, again, licked her lips, as if devouring the young woman with her imagination... "Stand... please."

"And turn around."

The old woman's voice was husky with desire. The young woman complied to all her requests— "Bend over. Spread your legs. I want to see your bum."

All the while, the old woman's voice became quieter, yet more raw. The old woman's hands fondled her own breasts, pinched her own nipples, finally fondling her own sex.

All this happened so slowly, as if in a dream. The sun was higher in the sky, bathing the bedroom in a strong, bright light.

The young woman closed her eyes.

The 'requests' had stopped. The young woman heard only soft moans and the unmistakable sounds of an approaching climax.

And when the old woman's climax came, it was gentle, quiet, yet overwhelming.

The young woman heard a thud, she opened her eyes to see the old woman on the floor, her legs spread obscenely, her right hand deep in her sex.

She checked and the old woman was alive but had passed out. The young woman noticed, for the first time, the bed in the room; a small bed— the old woman slept alone. Laid out on the bed, freshly laundered, and neatly folded, were the young woman's clothes. Her shoes were under the bed. She rapidly dressed and left the house. Classical music played softly somewhere in the distance.

Later, when she tried to report the incident, the police informed her that that house had been abandoned for decades and the couple that had lived there had died long ago.

All characters in this story are over eighteen. Many thanks to my editor Kenji Sato!

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