The Touch Ch 45

WARNING TO NEW READERS TO THE SERIES - This is a long, rambling story and VERY British which has been divided into several parts for ease of editing and reading. The individual parts will make more sense if read in sequence as they follow straight on chronologically and therefore new readers should start reading at NOVELS & NOVELLAS - The Touch - Chapter 1 -- Jamie's Story.

Most, but not all chapters contain some sexually explicit sections and the story has a strong incest theme which some readers may find disturbing and might wish to cease reading now.....

My apologies! This episode may meander even more than usual as it is part of a collection of several short 'day in the life' journal style entries three of which have been linked to make up this chapter.

THE TOUCH Chapter 45 Morning, Noon & Night

Despite having shagged all night Emma and I still managed to get out of bed just after six as we both had early appointments at work and needed to make an effort to clear up the house and get our clothes and my bed linen into the washing machine. I wanted the place to be clean and tidy with the laundry hung out to dry when Gwen got home later that day. I had shoved my feet into the old deck shoes that I wore about the house in place of slippers and just pulled on a pair of loose fitting shorts and went down to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee and made Emma a mug of tea, with a teabag whilst she gathered up the last of the clothes that needed to be washed. I heard Emma go into the utility room behind me but only caught a glimpse of the tail end of my bedsheet being dragged through the doorway.

"Jay.... Can you help me with this washing machine, I can't get the door open..." I heard my sister call and followed her into the utility room where the laundry machines lived. "Fix that bloody washer...can you...the frigging door is stuck again..."

As I entered the room Emma was standing beside a pile of laundry wearing nothing but her short nightshirt with the flower motif on the front. I knew that machine intimately and just stepped up and gave the door handle a sharp kick and it sprang open immediately... I had been meaning to get Steve to come over and fix it for ages.... the machine was old but still worked well except that door was a bloody nuisance, neither Gwen nor Emma could ever get it to open first time.

Emma started to put the laundry into the machine and then grabbed the hem of her nightshirt and pulled it over her head and added it to the load and stood there totally naked. She slammed the door shut with her knee and twisted the dial to set the wash programme then leaned back against the machine as it started to vibrate gently as the water surged into the drum and through the soap loader. I couldn't help but just stand and watch her.... The movement of the machine increased as the wash cycle started and her small breasts and little soft belly began to jiggle and bounce.

"O-o-o-o-h-h-h-h-h! Wow! This is really wild...." She sighed huskily and drew her hand down over her breasts and belly and started to run her finger over her pussy, slightly parting the lips to expose the pink of her labia, already swollen from our lovemaking and curling to tease her clit until it had swollen enough to become visible. Watching her pleasure herself was captivating but time was getting away and we needed to shower, dress and get off to work but Emma seemed to have other plans.

As I watched she heaved herself up so that she was sitting on top of the washing machine with her legs wide apart and her arms reaching out for me... "O-o-o-h-h-h Jay. Help Me!" She moaned, "I need you to help me...ple-e-e-a-s-e.... " Sitting there with her soft pinkness open and exposed to me was a picture of pure wantonness and it didn't fail to renew my lust she was starting get me horny again.

"Jay, you have just GOT TO fuck me...!" She wailed, "It's the last chance we will get for ages and ages...." My sister could be theatrically melodramatic at times but on this occasion seeing her wide open and waiting I had to agree with her, I really DID need to fuck her, work would just have to wait.

It took me only seconds to step out of my shorts and shoes and then I was between her legs her hands clasped behind my neck and pulling my face down to meet hers pressing her lips hard against mine our tongues probing each other's mouths in a deep, lust driven kiss which went on for long minutes in a fury of passion until we were forced to break apart panting and gasping for breath. Despite our having made love all night long we still could not get enough of each other's bodies.

I slid my hand gently and slowly from her throat down over her breasts, pausing for a few seconds on each causing her to gasp as I rolled her small firm nipples lightly between my fingertips.

"Oh God, Jay... that feels so good...." she moaned. "You are making them feel so large...."

I lowered my head and touched each in turn with the tip of my tongue. She was right, they were hard and hot and she moaned deeply in her throat as I took them each into my mouth and sucked hard until the tip of my tongue could feel the aureoles swelling and becoming rough with the tiny pimples of desire that my attentions were arousing.

She clamped her legs around my waist her heels drumming on my arse and drew me closer in to her. My balls were resting against the front edge of the vibrating washing machine causing them to tingle and my erection to become even harder and start to jerk and quiver against her small round tummy.

I drew my hand down to her parted thighs, caressing the sensitive inside flesh with the tips of my fingers and then drawing them up to her soft open pussy to find that her own hand was still working on her clit. Her hips were making little jerking motions as the tip of her finger fiercely rubbed at her engorged, deep pink nub, and she was panting, small sobs escaping from her lips as she twisted her head from side to side as if in torment. I replaced her hand with mine and felt the soft, moist heat of her sex. My sister's labia was soft and swollen with the previous night's sex marathon and her clitoris was prominent and enlarged and felt like a tiny penis poking out from beneath its rubbery hood. I drew my hand over her outer lips gently squeezing her whole vulva feeling them become engorged and swell beneath my fingers. The lips felt terrific beneath my hand and I ran my middle finger in the slit which already moist with her love juices.

Her legs tightened their grip around me and I felt her small hand searching between our bodies until it fastened on my rigid prick.

Oh, fuck, Jay....put it in..... please....!" She moaned against my ear as her hand guided and manoeuvred my length to the entrance of her love tunnel. We had fucked multiple times that night and her vagina was hot and wet but to my amazement she was still remarkably tight, perhaps she was just naturally small or perhaps it was our position with her seated before me on the washer. I thrust forward and felt the tip of my cock enter her by a couple of inches and then she raised her knees slightly and lunged against me and I was sliding deep into her hot moist tunnel, my engorged penis felt as if it was being slowly strangled as it slipped deep inside her until it was in as far as it would go

"Oh, yes.... You can leave that there all day...." She murmured huskily by my throat and tightened her grip with arms and legs to ensure that I was trapped in her hot velvet prison.

Then incredibly, there was a loud click and the washing machine switched into its 1200 rpm spin cycle. The old machine had a tendency to shake, rattle and roll when it went into the spin especially when it was loaded with heavy bed linen and the additional weight of Emma seated on top and my leaning against it sent it totally frantic.

"Aa-a-a-a-r-r-r-g-g-h!" The vibration of the machine pounded both of us into an almost immediate and surprised climax and caused us to yell out in unison. Emma's pussy was rammed frantically onto my shaft over and over and I was unable to hold back as my prick spasmed and jizz gushed out of me in hot spurts filling her and seeping back to splash onto my thighs as she continued to be impaled onto me by the furious movement of the machine.

"I'm cumming....I'm cumming....Oh-h-h-h-h-h!" My lovely sister was having a huge orgasm. Her whole body was jerking and writhing frantically and then suddenly she gave a final loud gasp and went limp, her only movement the heaving of her chest as she panted for air and the fluttering of the inner walls of her love nest around my cum soaked member.

The washing machine gave a final shudder as though finishing its own mechanical orgasm then shuddered to a stop and ejaculated its 30 gallons of liquid into the outflow pipe.

I cannot remember much about how Emma and I managed to get the house tidied up, the washing hung out to dry, or how we got ourselves showered and dressed and consumed our drinks... I for one was running on stunned auto-pilot. Somehow I managed to be out by the front gate with my first cigarette of the day by seven-thirty waiting for Emma. When she emerged from the front door I was a little surprised to see that given the pressure we had been under, her hair was brushed and tied back in a long ponytail, her make-up was done and instead of her usual black tee-shirt and jeans she was wearing a smart black linen mini-skirt suit over a plain white shirt, with black stockings or tights which displayed the long slender legs perfectly. I recalled that she had a morning appointment with the rep from the stationery company to discuss new printed letterheads and stationery reflecting the change of company status and incorporating the new company logo which Maggie had designed.

As I was intending to use Maggie's Range Rover on Friday evening we were driving into work that morning in her little soft top Beetle, my moped was already in the lock-up at the garden centre for riding home later. What really surprised me was that she tossed me the keys to her treasured car.

"You had better drive, Jay...." She said with a mischievous grin, "My legs aren't working right this morning.... My head feels disconnected and my arse is numb...."

"Are you OK...really...Emms?" I asked a bit concerned as she got into the passenger seat.

"Yeah!" She laughed, "I've just be shagged legless that's all...you bastard....Jamie!"

We drove in silence until we were almost at the back lane and the staff entrance to the garden centre. "Thank you, Jay..." she said quietly.

"What for?"

"For not brushing me off..... I was terrified that when I came home from France you would have had a change of heart about having sex with your sister and would dump me....."

"Not a chance..." I told her, "I said we were good didn't I? I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." I pulled onto the car park and we just sat for a few minutes. "We need to be very careful now, Emma.." I cautioned. "Especially around Mum and Maggie....."

"Yeah, I know.... I really do... I wouldn't risk what we have for anything..."

"Good," I leaned over and gave her a brotherly kiss on the forehead, "You are still my best girl, Sis."

"You mean I'm your best shag..." she sniggered. "Well you can just go across to the restaurant and get me a double sized bacon sandwich.... I missed breakfast when we were 'doing the washing'.... It is bad manners to fuck a girl and not feed her....I'm bloody starving!"

The day was shaping up to be one of those really busy Fridays filled with tasks that needed to be completed before the week-end. Maggie was out for the day in London at her solicitors, something to do with her divorce from Ben the Bastard, which instantly put us one person down. Colin and Benson were working at Craven Manor in the morning and then going on to The Cedars in the afternoon and Kitty and Libby had picked up a job at an agricultural suppliers at Dinton to the west of the city on the Hindon Road to put in a temporary display of hanging baskets and floral containers for a special event that they were holding at the week-end and would return to look after the home base in the afternoon.

It left me with a crappy job which we had all been playing pass-the-parcel with for a week. The task was at a bungalow off the A338 near Winterbourne Gunner to the north east of Salisbury and was to remove and destroy an over grown 'Fallopia baldschuanica', commonly known as the Russian Vine, or 'Mile a Minute Creeper'. It was a dirty, shitty job which would probably take the best part of the day and I would probably not have entertained taking it on but the owner of the bungalow had known Robert De Vere, Maggie's deceased husband. I thought that it should really have been a job for the tree surgeons but Maggie had agreed to do it as a favour and so we were stuck with it. As it turned out my gut instincts were partially right, but for different reasons.

I arrived at the bungalow around ten o'clock having spent a couple of hours going through the mail and job sheets with Emma and Tayler before loading up the little Marina van with my tools, the small petrol chain-saw and a twelve foot extension ladder. The place turned out to be much as Maggie had described it, a large 1920's red brick bungalow set in quite large grounds which had been well maintained and consisted of a couple of acres of well-trimmed lawns and tidy established herbaceous borders and a number of really magnificent ancient oak trees, probably built as a dowager house on an estate that no longer existed. There was a nicely laid out flower garden enclosed in a six foot box hedge rectangle at the front of the house and I immediately recognised some of the expensive planters and tubs as having been supplied by us over the years. A 1960s dark grey Morris Oxford V1 was parked outside of the large two door garage with an old fashioned ladies bicycle leaning against the garage door, both looked overdue for a good clean.

I parked in the drive and rang the doorbell, an old fashion pull chain with a bell which I could hear tinkling at the rear of the bungalow somewhere. The door was opened by a tall cadaverous man of about seventy, dressed in a faded black or charcoal grey two piece suit and a clerical shirt and dog-collar.

"Er... Dr. Jonas Fry..?" I asked, "I am Jamie Riley from De Veres Garden Centre...to see about your creeper problem...." Maggie had told me that the client was a retired school master but had not mentioned that he was a clergyman as well.

"I was expecting Mrs. De Vere..." His voice was lugubrious and cheerless and exactly matched his miserable expression. He seemed displeased and I half expected him to slam the door in my face.

"I am her partner..." I announced formally, I did not like him one little bit and was pleased that it was not Maggie or one of the girls who had picked up the job... there was something about him that I just found disagreeable and untrustworthy despite the dog-collar. "I was told that the job was urgent...!"

"Yes, it is...." He stated emotionlessly, "Follow me and I will show you what I want done..."

I could already see what the issue was. Somebody had planted two or three Russian Vines at one end of the bungalow, probably about twenty years ago. The fast growing creeper had quickly covered not only the end wall but had spread over half the roof and had crept along both the front and back walls beneath the gutter. The plant was invasive and although it had been obviously trimmed away from the windows and doors periodically had probably crept through the eaves and I could see places where it was dislodging the guttering and down pipes. I have personally always considered that particular climber to be unsuitable for a domestic garden, despite the pretty white blooms, as if not properly pruned and managed it would take over large swathes of the garden smothering everything in its path.

I followed him as he made a long legged circuit of the cottage muttering "See that!" or "Look at that there!" and pointing to some place where the vine caught his attention.

"I don't think that this should be a problem..." I assured him, "It will probably take me most of the day to take it down.... Then I will get our lorry team out to remove the cuttings...." The vine was going to be too sappy to burn and needed to be disposed of carefully.... If allowed to get into a compost heap or garden recycling it would self-propagate and spring up wherever the compost was used and the problem would start again. "Once it is down then I will kill the roots with a selective weed killer, probably glyphosate, if that meets with your approval...?" The twenty-year-old roots were going to be much too deep to dig out and probably went under the bungalow foundations.

"I thought that was what I am paying you for...?" He snarled, "I do not care how you do it...just get rid of the evil thing..."

"You may want to get a builder in to look at your attics to see if the vine has got in through the eaves...?" I suggested.

"I don't want you in the house... Do you understand? You are not to go into the house!" He snapped waving his finger under my nose. I reckoned that he would have been a bastard of a teacher, a real pig.

He spun on his heel and stalked off his bald head nodding like a carrion crow. I couldn't see him coming back with a tray of tea and biscuits.

I bit my tongue and held my temper.... For two pins I would happily tell him where to shove his bloody vine and to hell with the job.... But I guess I needed to be professional about it.... Some customers were arseholes...you just had to live with it. Never-the-less I would speak to Maggie about it.... She had taken his telephone call and accepted the job..... if it had been one of our employees that he had spoken to like that then I definitely would have walked off the job but I was the boss and was expected to weather a heavier shit storm.

I unloaded the van and then took a good close-up look at the vine. There were definitely three original plants each of which now had an iron hard trunk a good six inches thick at the base but there was no evidence of sucker shoots coming off of the roots. I yanked the chainsaw into life and cut each of the trunks off about six inches above the ground then used the chainsaw to take out sizable sections of the thicker wood where I could get at it without cutting into the brickwork and risking damage to the saw. I had laid a tarpaulin out on the drive and dragged and carried the cut offs onto it then started the disagreeable job of pulling the vine away from the wall and cutting it out with the handsaw or big secateurs.

Despite the warm weather, I wore thick protective gloves had put on a sweatshirt with a hood which stopped a lot of the dust getting into my hair and down the back of my neck. Climbers are always traps for all kinds of crap....dust, bird shit, feathers, and every kind of creeping and crawling insect you can imagine, taking one down is a dirty horrid job.

Just after mid-day I heard the old Morris Oxford cough into action and pull away down the drive and turn onto the road into Salisbury. The old sod has probably gone for lunch somewhere, I thought and hasn't even offered me a cup of tea.... Time for a break and a cigarette.

One of the first lessons that you learn as an outdoors worker is always bring a couple of flasks of coffee and a couple of bottles of water with you... there is no guarantee that the customer will be willing to give you refreshments. Lunch can be a hit and miss affair so I always keep a couple of packets of biscuits in my satchel and an empty 2 litre water bottle in the vehicle. On one of my first gardening jobs when I was just sixteen I got caught short and dived behind a tree to relieve myself only to realize that I was being watched by the wife of the householder from a bedroom window. It was embarrassing but I also learned the hard way that people do not like strange men pissing in their garden but are not always willing to offer the use of their facilities.