The Abbey Farm Curse.
Chapter 2..
You know what it's like when you wake up disorientated in a strange room and so I woke in the morning wondering who the hell had been in during the night and installed such a monster of a fireplace in my lovely modern bedroom, and then I remembered where I was and that this was a very different and very much older bedroom. What made it all the more confusing was the dream I'd just been having in which a fire had been burning in that very same fireplace, although in my dream the fireplace was in a library rather than a bedroom, and so it took me several minutes to get my head on straight and to figure out for sure what was real and what wasn't. When I'd finally got my brain working I assumed that the dream was triggered by the unfamiliar surroundings I went to sleep in and I pushed it to the back of my mind.
We were still suffering from an overdose of enthusiasm, so after breakfast we started the job of chipping off all the plaster on the ground floor up to about three feet from the floor, ready for the workmen to install the damp course. Our joint family budget wasn't endless and we'd figured what we could do ourselves, we would. The plaster was cold and damp and it wasn't clinging to the walls too enthusiastically, so the job wasn't half as difficult as we'd expected, which was just as well as we often had to go much further up the walls than we had intended in order to find some that was still solidly attached. I can't say it was a pleasant job, the place smelled musty and the plaster was clammy to the touch, but it could have been worse. It was made more bearable by some of the revealing and occasionally very rude graffiti that had been inscribed on the surface over the years, and which we now read and chuckled at before destroying. We did wonder who J.T. was, whose initials were combined in hearts with at least four other sets of different initials in various places. Good luck to the guy I say, whoever he was.
We took it in turns, one hammering and chiselling, another shovelling into a barrow, and the third emptying the barrow into a skip, and I must admit I was impressed by the strength and willingness of both girls, who were fighting well above their weight with heavy barrow-loads of plaster. They were in danger of making me look lazy. The result was that by the time we quit at the end of the day we had pretty much broken the back of that particular chore and we were well pleased with ourselves. A quick shower each and we were ready to eat. By now we'd worked out a rota for chores and as it was my turn to cook I figured I'd impress them with my signature dish, a chicken-tikka-masala which, though I say it myself, is to die for. I would have done it too, but we didn't have half the ingredients and so we had to make do with rice and chilli-con-carne from a tin before we settled to watch the little portable television with its inevitably snowy picture.
I'm not sure what was on, because I spent most of the evening with my eyes closed. Not asleep, you understand, definitely not asleep, just resting my eyes. No? No, the girls didn't believe it either. When I opened them at one point during the evening I was just in time to see Willow making for the door, showing more common sense than me by going to bed. Seconds later, or so it seemed to me, I was nudged in the ribs by Angie who, with a dimpled smile all over her smug face, told me it was midnight and the best place to sleep was in bed. I protested feebly that I wasn't asleep before stumbling to my feet and following her across the landing towards our bedrooms.
As we passed the top of the stairs I was nudged again.
'Listen!' Angie instructed my sleep bewildered ears.
I listened, and all of a sudden I wasn't the slightest bit sleepy.
'Oooh!' Came a female voice.
'Oooh!' The sound was repeated, and then it was repeated again, and again, coming from Willow's room at fairly regular intervals.
'Can you hear it?' Angie asked in an excited whisper.
I nodded in reply, a knowing grin spreading across my face.
'Is it what I think it is?' she asked.
'That depends what you think it is,' I teased her, trying my hardest to embarrass her youth.
'Is she...? You know.'
'Masturbating? Oh yes, I think she is, don't you?' I asked her, smiling broadly, my memory flitting back to her upright nipples.
'Oooooooh.' This one was louder and more prolonged.
Angie and I stood outside Willow's door and unashamedly listened to her playing with herself, picturing what was happening behind that door and knowing that very soon she was going to orgasm and we were going to hear her. It gave me, and Angie too I think, a strange kind of perverse thrill to be eavesdropping on her friend's intimate moments. We gazed at each other with shiny eyes and giggled silently.
'Oooh! Oooh! Oooh! Oooh, Yes!' Willow was getting closer and we could almost hear the bed bouncing as she strummed harder and faster.
'Oooh! Yeesss! Yeesss! Yyeeesssssss!' There was no mistaking the moment she orgasmed, she shouted her triumph out loud, obviously caring little who heard her. We stood outside her door, imagining the sight it concealed, and looked at each other in shock at her uninhibited vocals.
For half an everlasting minute Angie and I stood staring at each other, amazed at what we had heard, and then, brought back to reality by the sound of someone climbing from the bed and walking across the room behind the door, we scampered off to our own rooms and our own guilty thoughts.
It won't be any surprise for you to learn that as I undressed for bed I tried to picture the scene in Willow's bedroom, trying to see her in my mind's eye naked with her legs open and her fingers busy. I'd never seen Willow in the nude then, but god, what a lovely sight I knew it must have been. Willow is tall, straight backed and long limbed, with those china blue eyes in a cheeky little face, she is simply beautiful, and the thought of her lying naked only a couple of doors away was enough to raise the dead. I slipped into bed with a rock solid erection pleading for my guilty attention. I lay there with my hand wrapped around my shaft, pumping it gently and fantasizing about watching Willow masturbate. I could imagine her starting slowly, as I was, lightly playing with her clit, and then, as her arousal grew, she would begin to speed up, flicking and rubbing her little button, making it stand proud and erect like a miniature version of my own shaft.
I began to go faster myself, holding my shaft between thumb and two fingers and stroking the length of it more and more rapidly. Willow would have been doing roughly the same, using two fingers to stroke across her own tip and down its tiny length, making her slender hips begin to twitch and gyrate as her orgasm crept up on her. That would be when she began to moan and when Angie and I had heard her.
My own climax got closer, I could feel my balls beginning to tighten and a little hot spot start to develop in the base of my cock. I hoped when I came it would be as forcefully as when Willow did, though I prayed I could keep it quieter. Then as I got close I thought about her biting her lower lip as she also drew nearer, I imagined her raising her pelvis from the bed, and then leaving her clit to plunge her fingers deep inside herself for the last home stretch, those world shattering last few seconds before she came and when nothing else mattered but the wonderful liberation of orgasm. My cum gathered in my balls, my hand pumped hard and fast and I felt it begin to travel. My muscles squeezed, my cock twitched and the first gush raced down inside my shaft. As it did I pictured Willow's body tossing and jerking as her own climax hit, I looked in my mind at her wet and shiny pussy, letting my mind's eye travel up her body, over her flat and sweat shiny belly, to her breasts, larger than I had imagined, fuller and rounder, but with lovely engorged pink nipples. My spunk exploded from my cock, spraying across my stomach as I let my imagination travel from her breasts to her shoulders, one side moving rhythmically as her fingers thrust into her tunnel, and then up to her face, a face with mouth open and eyes tight closed, a face distorted with pure ecstasy - Angie's face.
If I hadn't already been in the throes of a climax I think I would have frozen with surprise, but my cock was still emptying my balls all over my belly, spurting cum in the strongest and most intense climax I'd had for years, and I just had to go with it. I felt shock, disbelief and a high degree of confusion to find I had wanked to a vision of Angie. Not Willow with whom my fantasy had started, but Angie, my soon-to-be stepsister, who had not figured in it at all at first, and I had no idea when or why my fantasy changed. I lay still for a long time after my breathing had returned to normal and my heart had stopped pounding, trying to get to grips with my thoughts. Did I really secretly lust after her, and was this fantasy my mind's way of saying I could look, but I'd better not touch? It seemed possible; after all, I had been trying to get a sly peek at her breasts only the day before. But then I'd been more interested in Willow's perky little nipples, so why didn't my thoughts stay with her? Eventually I fell into a perplexed and fitful sleep and woke up with a cum-crusty belly, more knackered and confused than when I had gone to bed.
Breakfast was strangely quiet. We gathered around the small Formica topped table in a tight little group, but silently focusing all of our attention down onto the cereal bowls in front of us. I knew why I didn't have a lot to say, and I could understand why Willow might be a bit withdrawn, but I was surprised at Angie, who kept giving me the most peculiar looks, as if she could read my mind and knew I was thinking about her. I hoped I hadn't unknowingly let the cat out of the bag by shouting out when I came in the way Willow had. If I had, then Angie in the room next door would have been bound to have heard. In that case I would have to use the old fall-back and simply deny everything.
