Nomansland Ch 02

Mrs. Cook insisted on doing the washing up a few minutes later before fetching a fruit bowl and taking her seat back at the table. She offered the bowl to John but there were only a few bruised looking bananas, so he declined. She shrugged and took one herself. John returned to his book as Mrs. Cook started peeling it.

"I hope you don't mind me asking Mrs. Cook," said John when she had finished eating, "but I wasn't sure from our correspondence if Mr. Cook was also living here?" He was uncomfortable asking the question but while he had been sat on the train, he had resolved to get it out of the way as early as possible. He regretted it immediately as he saw a cloud cross Mrs. Cook's face before she lowered her big, round eyes to the floor. She took a moment before answering.

"He died of a heart attack," her voice was unsteady. She was quiet again for a moment. "It was seven years ago now, but I still miss him. He had the biggest..." she lifted her eyes as she said this and, as they settled on John, she paused, reconsidering her words. "He had a big heart," she concluded and then yawned ostentatiously.

"Gosh! Look at the time!" said John checking his watch, "I'd better be getting off to bed."

"You've had a long day," Mrs. Cook agreed.

It was earlier than he would normally retire but he was tired, and he wanted to be fresh for the start of his field study tomorrow morning.

"Thanks again for the soup. I'll say goodnight," said John.

"Goodnight," replied Mrs Cook as John ambled wearily towards his room, deep in thought. She called out something else as he was on the stairs, but he didn't catch it. Experimental plans for his ecological survey were taking shape in his head. He was looking forward to the fresh air after spending a solid eighteen months in the city. It was a wrench to have transplanted himself here, but he considered also how strange it would feel for his parents to have the flat to themselves again after having his company for so long.

As he watched his reflection brushing its teeth in the shared bathroom, he thought once more about the arrangement that had brought him here. He had assumed from the ludicrously cheap rent that he would be required to do many of the chores for the duration, but Mrs. Cook was evidently a very capable woman. His reflection's brow furrowed slightly before the thought passed. He was simultaneously alarmed and exhilarated by the lack of wi-fi at the cottage. He had grown so reliant on it but he relished the thought of the extra time that he would have to read.

Back in his room, he changed into his pyjamas and put his clothes away neatly. The heating had gone off at some point since he had arrived, and it was starting to get chilly. He fought for a couple of minutes with the stack of sheets and blankets enough to make a John sized opening which he slid into. He lay there for a moment to warm up a bit before he strained against the weave of sheets once more as he stretched to switch out the light that stood on the desk. He let his head fall back onto the pillow and began to conjure a picture of himself on the frosty heath making his observations as New Forest ponies cantered nearby.

A firm knock at the door brought him back from his reverie. Before he had a chance to answer, the door swung open and light flooded in from the landing. Mrs. Cook entered carrying a small tray and switched the desk light on again. Squinting against the sudden light, John saw Mrs. Cook settle the tray on the desk. There was a tumbler on it which looked like it had a generous measure of whiskey in it.

"That's very kind of you Mrs. Cook but there's really no need," said John. The smile that Mrs. Cook wore as she put her finger to her lips as she bade him quiet was quite unlike any that John had seen before. John thought that she was going to kiss him as she approached the bed and leant towards him. Instead, she began tucking the sheets in again so that he was pressed even more firmly in place. Then she planted first one knee firmly on the bed swiftly followed by the other, pinning his right arm in place. John flapped his mouth in confusion. That smile again. She swung her left leg over, straddling him so that his left arm was also pinned down and threw her dressing gown to the floor.

He gawped at the sight of her big round arse and the trimmed charcoal tuft between her thighs as it descended towards him before engulfing his face. He heard a muffled "Lick it!" as she ground her crotch against him. What else could he do? He dutifully stuck out his tongue and the grinding became more intense. As he listened to her muffled groans, it dawned on him that he was tasting the mystery soup ingredient once again. He lapped her pussy hungrily for as long as he could before he started choking for air. A small amount of light as she raised herself slightly. He gulped in two huge breaths then darkness again. He heard her cackle wildly before the groans resumed, louder now. He had never shared a bed with a woman before and this wasn't among the scenarios that he had imagined. That wasn't to say that he wasn't enjoying it though and the effusive noise and writhing told him that he was doing something right. There was a moment's respite once more as he fought for breath before she was in his face again.

His whole face was sticky with juice and her short pubes chafed as she rubbed hard against him. Her moans were building to a crescendo. This time when he was short of air, she just adjusted her position so that it was his nose that was sliding between her wet lips. Now she pushed back down on him harder and faster than ever. Her arse cheeks, bouncing against his forehead, tensed, and shuddered and she let out three loud guttural grunts and flopped forward. Her pussy dripped a thick mixture of saliva and cum on his chin as another shudder shook her body. It took John a couple of minutes to recover his breath enough to feel like he could speak again. In those moments, Mrs. Cox unstraddled him and slipped back into her dressing gown before sinking the whiskey in one go and leaving without another word.

John freed an arm and tenderly massaged his sore nose.