I think it was Julie’s idea to take a cottage in Cornwall for an early spring break.
We drove down on a bright, clear April morning. The cottage was just outside St Ives – a converted farm labourer’s dwelling, with a small, low kitchen, a coal-fired living-room and just the one tiny bedroom, upstairs, with a large, soft double bed, which we christened within an hour of arrival!
Julie, my lovely wife of three years, had spent a summer in Cornwall, working during the summer vacation between school and college, the year before I met her, and she had always wanted to visit the area again.
I had a suspicion that that summer had been a bit of a ‘rite of passage’ for Julie. It had been her first time away from home, and she had lived with her aunt and cousin while she was there. Her cousin, Jeanette, was a couple of years older than Julie, and family gossip had it that she was a bit of a ‘bike’. She wasn’t a very attractive girl, although she had a passable figure, but she was a nice enough lass and, if she had to ‘put out’ a bit more than other girls, to get the boys to take notice of her – well, who was I to criticise?
Jeanette, at the time, had been aiming to train in hotel management, and had a job in local pub, where she was able to fix Julie up, as well, to help with the increased summer holiday trade.
Since then, though, the aunt had died, and Jeanette was working in London, so there was no need to pay any duty visits, while we were down there. In fact, we had both had a hard winter, workwise, and we needed a break – not least to revive our sex life, which had been on the back burner a little for the past few months.
In that respect, our visit was very successful! The little cottage was remote from any other houses, at the bottom of a woodland track, and I think, by the middle of the week, we had capered around, naked, in every corner of it, and I had shagged my beautiful, sexy wife on every surface, horizontal and vertical!
Julie is quite tall, just a shade under five foot eight, with shoulder-length auburn hair, bewitching soft brown eyes, and a wide, generous mouth which breaks easily into a smile, and is utterly delicious to kiss. Her upper body is quite strong, due to a lot of swimming when she was a youngster – shoulders straight, and quite broad, and her breasts are a very generous 38”, firm and high on her chest, with large aurolae and thick blood-red nipples, which erect very easily – sometimes embarrassingly easily, as far as my wife is concerned!
Below her slim waist, Julie’s hips are also slim, and athletic – her legs long, shapely and well-defined. At the junction of her thighs lies an abundant bush of auburn hair, which only partially conceals the full lips of her vagina – an orifice I entered more times during that week in Cornwall than in the months since Christmas.
And, of course, the more we ‘did it’, the more we wanted to do it. Even on our trips out, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. The weather was warm, and glorious, and Julie was wearing short summer dresses, which showed off her bare, tanned legs, and emphasised the seductive bounce of her full, heavy tits. Notwithstanding our almost continuous sex in the cottage, we went ‘all the way’ no less than three times in the bracken, while hill-walking, and once on a deserted beach, late at night, on our way home from a restaurant.
On our last night, we decided to visit that same restaurant again and, as before, walked the two-mile journey from the cottage, into St. Ives. We arrived about half an hour before our 8.30 booking, and I suggested a drink before dinner.
“Took the words right out of my mouth!” was Julie’s response, and, as I headed for a pub beside the harbour, she grabbed my elbow and said – “No – let’s go this way,”
Something – a slight breathlessness – in her voice made me glance at her. Her cheeks were a little flushed, her eyes bright, but I couldn’t catch her eye as she practically dragged me down a little alley, then down some stairs into a basement with a sign above the door.
The pub was small, with a bar running the entire length of the room – only about twenty feet – and half a dozen tables dotted around, with chairs arranged haphazardly around them. But it was busy, with what seemed to be, predominantly, a young crowd – mixed groups of boys and girls in their late teens and early twenties. The background music was modern, but not too loud.
There was just one guy behind the bar – a man of about thirty, slim build, with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and a gold stud in his right ear. Julie pushed me down at a small table for two, beside the window, and said – “I’ll get the drinks.”
Puzzled, I watch her cross the floor – and noticed that I wasn’t the only one, several male heads swivelling to admire her progress as she eased through the crowd, and the tightly-packed tables and chairs.
She reached the bar, and the barman looked up, a polite smile on his face. It was too noisy for me to hear, but I could see Julie ordering our drinks. The barman half-turned away, to get them, then he did a double-take and whipped round to face Julie again, a grin of delight spreading across his face.
Racing to the end of the bar, he whipped round the corner, by which time Julie had practically arrived, and she threw herself into his arms. They flung their arms round each other, and hugged, tightly, then he withdrew his head and planted a kiss straight onto my wife’s mouth.
It was a real kiss – mouths open, heads bent sideways, bodies joined from knee to shoulder – and it lasted a bit too long, for me. Of course, by now, I had put two and two together – this was the pub where Julie had worked six – no, seven – years ago, and her ex-employer was very pleased to se her again! But, still ……
Eventually, Julie broke the kiss, and I saw her incline her head in my direction, then they were walking towards me, holding hands and grinning at each other in mutual delight.
I stood up as they approached. The barman released Julie’s hand and extended his own towards me.
“James,” said Julie, her eyes bright with pleasure, “this is Sam, who looked after me when I was here, last. Sam, this is James, my husband.”
Taking my hand firmly, Sam grinned and said – “And a very lucky man, too! It’s a real pleasure to meet you, James.”
Pulling up a chair, he sat down as Julie, too, dropped into the chair beside me. She reached a hand across the table, and Sam took it. A young barmaid appeared with our drinks, and I settled down to my beer as my wife and Sam ‘caught up’ with each other.
There was something about Sam’s face that was familiar – and something odd, as well. Suddenly, it dawned on me – I had seen his photograph, and, not only that, he was one of twins! It was one of those ‘photo booth’ pictures, with Julie sitting on the knees of those two guys who looked identical to each other. We had been looking at her old photos one night, years ago, and all I remembered was that Julie had told me it was a holiday snap, and that the two guys had been great fun to be with, but there had been nothing more to it than that, and we had moved on to the next picture ……
Somehow, though, that picture had stayed in my mind – I think it was the thought of those two guys being identical – I always used to wonder what a girl – well, Julie – would have thought about when she was with them. Would she have preferred one over the other – would she have wondered what it would be like to ‘be with’ both of them at the same time? Then, I had seen ‘The Camomile Lawn’ on TV, where a girl had a relationship with identical twins – all three of them going to bed together. I had wanted to ask Julie what she thought of that, but never quite had the courage.
Looking at her now, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at Sam, their hands clasped over the table as they laughed at their shared memories, and remembering how they had kissed, just minutes before, a shiver of uneasiness ran up my spine …… Also, to my surprise, I felt my balls tighten, and my cock give a little jerk. I took another mouthful of beer and sat back, trying to relax.