The Abbey Farm Curse
Chapter Four
The next couple of days after Angie had spoken so openly and I'd replied so abruptly were strained if pretty uneventful, but I suppose that was only to be expected. Willow could see that something was amiss, but whether Angie had told her what, or if she just put it down to my finding out about them sleeping together, I have no idea. Whichever it was at least she had the sense not to join in or take sides and treated us both as if nothing was wrong.
Fortunately whatever aphrodisiac had been at work seemed to have taken a couple of days off too, perhaps due to my slinging a bucket of cold water over things, and we all went to bed without any problems and slept the sleep of the righteous. Angie and Willow's episode seemed to have really been a one off as they had promised, and I was beginning to think that what had happened before actually was coincidence and we'd be able to settle in and live comparatively stress free. Everything else seemed to be going to plan too - well, sort of.
The workmen turned up on the Monday when they said they would, looked at the walls, drilled a load of holes accompanied by lots of noise and an equal amount of dust, and then went away claiming to have brought the wrong chemicals with them. They would be back in a day or two, they told us, but without specifying which particular day or two they meant. Why can't tradesmen do what they say they will, and when they say?
The following day the girls went and did some grocery shopping in the morning, which shopping inevitably entailed a wander around the main shopping street of the nearest town and the purchase of some new clothes. They returned home around four in the afternoon and spent the next couple of hours trying on their new outfits -- or at least that's what they said they were doing, and who am I to doubt them in this place. Or is that being unfair?
Meanwhile I'd spent the day with the architect and the man from the planning department of the local council, going over plans to turn our tumbledown milking parlour into a dairy suitable for the production of organic cheeses, among other things. They went away having added a fair bit to the potential costs and with the promise, or maybe it was a threat, to return next week after a visit from the environmental health officer. I would receive a letter informing me when to expect him, they said. And I thought women were difficult to please.
I think the happenings in the farmhouse were still playing on my mind a bit though, because the next morning when I was trying to plan out a 'work to' list I couldn't concentrate, my thoughts forever going back to Angie and Willow and things that go hump in the night. Eventually I gave up and went down to the local pub for a lunchtime pint. I was there for about an hour, introducing myself to a couple of the locals and enjoying a game of pool before I wandered back up the lane to the farm feeling a whole lot more at ease with the world.
That feeling didn't last. I was brought down to earth with a bump when I got back, because the environmental health officer was waiting for me, having arrived days before we expected him and without the promised appointment having been made, and yet still having the nerve to complain because I wasn't there to receive him and that the girls couldn't supply the information he needed. How I hate those petty bureaucrats who think the whole world revolves around them and who have the power to make life unbearable if you fail to doff your cap properly.
The rest of the working day was spent with him telling me how he required three separate drainage systems, one for humans, one for livestock, and one for food manufacture. He laid out his requirements to the smallest detail without ever once making any suggestion as to how they were to be accommodated. The result was that by the time he left I was in a foul temper, and to top it off it was my turn to cook again. I spent a desultory evening making a half-hearted attempt to get the new costs to fit into our budget, only eventually to slam my laptop shut in despair and push off for an early night in an effort to shake off a blinding headache. The girls were busy texting friends all over the country, pretending they weren't sitting next to each other and asking the said friends to pass on messages in a sort of modernised Chinese whispers, and I don't think they even noticed I'd gone.
My mood changed the minute I got into bed. I lay down, rested my aching head on my pillow and once more I found myself immediately thinking of the possibilities that seemed to be offering themselves since we'd come to this place. I was pretty sure there were more games on the way, and I wasn't too sure which way I wanted things to go. I thought about what the girls had been up to, and what Angie had offered me, and then I berated myself for thinking such things and tried to change the mental subject. But my mind would have none of it. I could not stop thinking about all the things we all might do with each other. My brain constructed a kind of wish list, mentally listing all the things I'd like to do and who I'd like to do them with. Then I took my cock in my hand and tried to whittle the list down to a top three while I quietly played with myself. At the very top of my list was watching Willow bring herself off with a vibrator and then licking it. What a strange mind I must have!
I wondered briefly if it was her proximity making me fantasize like this, or the fact that she was out of reach because of her lesbian inclinations. Then I decided I didn't care and wanked a little harder. Maybe it really was this place giving me stupid ideas and I should be content to get anything more than an innocent peck on the cheek. Even though it was Angie who had offered herself to me a vision of seeing Willow masturbate wouldn't leave me, and I settled down for a slow wank before going to sleep, picturing her once more with her legs wide and her fingers busy on her clit, but this time deliberately keeping her face in my mind's eye all the time. But then at some point my hand slowed, my mind closed down, and I drifted to sleep, still lying naked on my back with my cock held loosely in my hand.
That wasn't the end of things for the night however, far from it. Some little while later the sounds of Willow playing with herself permeated into my brain and I came slowly back to wakefulness, half wanting to listen to her pleasure noises but also half wanting to ignore them and return to sleep. But of course there was no way I could sleep properly with Willow in the next room masturbating, and sleep was slowly but surely driven from my head until I was awake once more. That was when my brain finally got it together and I realised my mistake. Willow wasn't in the next room. That was Angie's room, and that was Angie's voice moaning with passion, and Willow was almost certainly further down the corridor in her own room. Suddenly I was wide awake and sitting bolt upright in my bed, my ears straining to hear her moans and with my cock rapidly hardening in my hand once again. There was something about Angie's fun that struck me as unusual, though it took me several minutes to work out precisely what. Then I got it. Angie had brought herself off in the room next door before, and I hadn't heard so much as a murmur. In fact the only reason I knew for sure was because she'd told me so. This time she must have deliberately wanted to be heard, and oh boy did I want to hear her.
I was soon making five by putting two and two together, and coming to the conclusion that if she wanted to be heard there was also a good chance she wanted to be seen. But it would hardly be me she wanted to watch her after our spat the other day and so she must be trying to attract Willow's attention. I figured if I waited a minute or two Willow would have heard and gone to her, and then I could creep out and watch them both at play. I waited, listening with a throbbing cock as Angie gasped and moaned, sometimes unintelligibly, but sometimes with detectable 'oh's' and 'yeses'. Perhaps, I thought, it was because Willow was already with her and it was her fingers causing Angie to make those incredible noises. Maybe they both wanted me to watch, or maybe Angie just didn't care if I heard them or not. But then, if she didn't care if I heard, she wouldn't care if I watched, would she?
Thinking about it afterwards I realised the logic of my thoughts simply didn't stand up and I was simply justifying my own wants and desires, but at the time it made enough sense for me to start to act on it. I climbed out of bed, not bothering about dressing, and walked quietly from my bedroom with my cock nodding before me. Anyone witnessing this display would come to the conclusion that the local peeper was on the prowl, and maybe they wouldn't have been far wrong.
I reached Angie's door to find it was a fraction ajar, and then cursed silently because it was not enough to be able to see into the room. Slowly and softly I pushed on the door, trying to make it swing far enough without disturbing the occupants. Inch by inch the door opened and Angie's moans and groans seemed to get louder and louder. At first I could only see a raised knee, moving slowly and rhythmically, then a little more of the calf and thigh, until finally I could see all the way up to Angie's pussy and her fingers playing gently with her clit.
'Come in, Gary. Don't just stand there.'
Her voice came as an excited whisper even though the fingers that I could see had stopped moving. I had interrupted her and, it seemed, spoiled her fun. I pushed the door open and walked sheepishly into the room, momentarily forgetting altogether about my state of dress. Angie half lay, half sat on the bed. She had her back leaning against her headboard, her legs spread wide, and she was alone. She made no attempt to cover herself; in fact if anything she spread herself a little wider to give me a better view.
