Deep Waters Ch 02

Note: All characters are over 18, as indicated in this or the previous chapter

Deep Waters - Chapter 2

There were six of us at dinner that evening, seated round a fine old oak table in a wood panelled dining room. The food was served by three of George Webster's remarkable supply of hot 20-something girls in maid's uniforms, leaving me wondering how many he had. Madelaine was one of them, together with a sweetly lively black girl called Martha, who had a south London accent, and a cute redhead named Cerys, who was Welsh. Jenny, it seemed, had been given the evening off following her exertions with Izzy and me that afternoon.

Despite the uniforms, there was little sign of a master/servant relationship going on. It was all rather informal, with a lot of cheeky banter, Martha in particular indulging in a lot of flirting and giggling. Webster mentioned that his chef, Pierre, who was French and, I have to say, very good at his job, would have cooked exactly the same for the staff as we were getting, and as soon as we were busy tucking into the main course, the maids, chattering happily among themselves, scuttled off to eat it.

Our little party consisted of George Webster, who sat at the head of the table, Sarah Lim, Webster's personal assistant, who was seated opposite him at the far end, my wife and I next to each other on one side of the table and another, somewhat older, married couple sat opposite us. Webster had introduced them as Ian and Annabel Thornton. I guessed their ages at early forties and late thirties respectively.

"Ian and Anna are my investment managers" George explained. "I inherited a good deal of wealth and made some more of my own when I was younger, but now I leave keeping me rich to these two - and an excellent job they are making of it."

"Nice to meet you," I said, trying to think of small talk that would fit with a world I knew little about. "Interesting that you are married and in the same line of work. I suppose you met there?"

"No," said Anna with a smile. "Actually, Ian and I work for different, rival, firms. George is wise enough to spread his investments. We met here at Deepwell, in fact."

"Yes," cut in George, "I choose carefully who I trust to work with me and I like to invite them to come and stay at Deepwell. That way I can check them out at close quarters and I have never been wrong in my judgement yet."

Ian nodded, "Anna and I love our visits to this place. They are always so very exciting and fulfilling. When we met here we soon found we were - let's say compatible in our tastes. And that's proved an excellent basis for our relationship."

Given what I had seen of this place so far, I had a strong suspicion what type of 'tastes' Ian might be talking about. I was conscious that Ian and Annabel were eyeing Izzy and me with a hungry sort of look, as if we were tasty morsels they might devour. I found it a little unsettling, although Izzy seemed untroubled. That said, they were an attractive pair. Ian was handsome, tall and smartly dressed, while Anna, who naturally interested me more, was slim and classically elegant. She had an accent redolent of private schooling and long, straight, dark hair which cascaded down the back of her expensive, figure-hugging evening dress.

Something about them bugged me over dinner and it was only later when I spoke to George that I realised what it was. We had moved to a sort of sitting room for after-dinner drinks. Izzy and Anna were perched on a sofa, chatting away as if they had known each other for years, while Ian was flirting with Sarah, seemingly with his wife's approval, since she took no notice. George had drawn me to one side for a quiet word.

"Izzy," he said, looking at my wife, "will ask you soon, tonight I would guess, if you are happy for her to sleep with other men while you are staying here. What do you think about that?"

I was rather stunned by his directness. "I ... I'm not sure that's any of your business. Besides, she's not like that." I managed to sound a lot more convinced by the last part than I actually felt.

George nodded reassuringly. "Of course you're right but you are my guests and I want you to be happy. If she does ask, I suggest you agree. So long as you are both honest with each other about everything that happens, I think you will find that it will only enhance your relationship and your love for each other."

I stared at our host. How did he have the gall to say such personal things? After all he barely knew us; we had only met for the first time that day. And yet somehow his words seemed so reasonable. I wondered if perhaps he was right and found myself saying, rather apologetically, "But ... but, I don't know if I could stand watching Izzy with another man. I mean ... what if she liked him better than me?"

"That's a little hypocritical of you, Ed," George said with a smile. "You weren't worrying about things like that when you were fucking Jennifer in front of your wife this afternoon, were you? I know you loved it, so why do you want to deny her the same pleasure? And you needn't worry about losing Izzy. I promise you that she loves you very much. I've known a lot of women over the years and I can tell. But she also has her erotic needs and desires - just as you do. You should both indulge them while you're here. This is a safe place, made for such things. Ian and Anna have a completely open relationship. Give it some thought and I hope you make the right decision. I'm sure you will."

And with that George Webster left me and drifted over to Ian and Sarah. I just stood there watching him go, clutching my drink, my mind in a whirl of confusion concerning Izzy, but at least my suspicions about Ian and Annabel had been confirmed.

*****

That night as we lay in bed, Izzy broached the subject of opening up our marriage while we were here, just as George had predicted she would. I was not even slightly surprised, let alone shocked; I had already concluded that if Webster said something would happen, he was probably going to be right. I had also decided on my answer.

Izzy made her case - she loved me and only me, but that wasn't a reason we couldn't sleep with other people so long as we both knew about it and agreed, and didn't I think the threesome this afternoon had been amazing, and if it was another man wouldn't that be OK too? I got the impression she expected me to say no. A day earlier and I certainly would have.

"So what brought this on?" I asked, but gently, holding Izzy in my arms, showing that I wasn't upset with her. "I saw you talking to Annabel. Was it her idea? Do you want to swap partners with them?"

Actually, Anna was distinctly hot in an elegant, femme-fatale kind of way. I had a suspicion that she would teach me one or two new things in bed given the chance. The idea had definite appeal to me, and I suspect Izzy knew exactly what was on my mind, but it seemed she had other thoughts.

"Anna was telling me about how much she and Ian love just relaxing and enjoying themselves when they're here and she did make it sound appealing, but that wasn't when I first had the idea. I think it was the moment Andrew walked in to carry our bags upstairs; you have to admit he's a hunk. And then there were those two gardeners of course."

"What two gardeners?" I asked, mystified.

"Ah, I should have guessed you hadn't noticed them; you were too busy staring at Madelaine's butt when we arrived. Still, you're right, Anna and I did talk about swapping - or more accurately the four of us getting together. Still, I'd better warn you that Ian is just as interested in you as he is me; he's bisexual in case you hadn't noticed the looks he was giving you at dinner."

Izzy grinned as she felt me squirm. "Oh, don't worry, George told me that this place just makes you more of whatever you already are - kind of relaxes and frees you up. Like Ian I'm bi and so we are even more attracted to everyone. You and Anna are straight and that isn't going to change - unless you fancy trying a little experimentation that is ...?" she ended with a laugh.

"Uh ... no, I don't think so - but it's a yes to everything else," I said.

"What, you mean ...?"

"Yes to Anna and Ian and yes to you bedding however many of the men and women of this place you feel is right - but obviously the same applies to me. And we always tell each other what happened and share as much as possible. Oh and, just so you know, I love you." I gave Izzy a hug as I said this.

"Wow, thanks darling, I love you too. But I never thought you'd agree." Izzy looked as excited as she was surprised.

"George had a little chat with me. He told me you would ask for this and that I should agree and it would all work out well. He was very convincing somehow ... Actually, have you noticed that? You just kind of listen and accept everything that man says as truth. I'm even starting to think maybe he is 120 years old or whatever. I just can't imagine anything he says being untrue."

Izzy moved closer and hugged me tighter. "Yes, I know what you mean, but I also think he's right about this. We had better get some sleep, because I've got a feeling this is going to be an amazing week."

*****

The following morning we breakfasted in the same room we had dined in the evening before, but this time Izzy and I were alone. The bubbly Martha was serving and some mildly flirtatious banter ensued between the three of us, but I had no time for anything more. I had an appointment at 10 a.m. sharp in George Webster's office to begin taking notes for his biography.

In the event, Webster was more interested in trying to prove his age to me. As he explained I could hardly write the story of his life if I thought most of it impossible. He produced a birth certificate in the name of George Nathaniel Webster from 24 February 1900 and copies of the census returns from 1901 and 1911, showing the same child resident at Deepwell Hall.

He even had military records from the First World War showing an 18 year-old newly commissioned Second Lieutenant George Webster, fresh out of Officer Cadet training at the prestigious Winchester private school, being sent straight to the trenches in France, almost immediately wounded and ordered back to England to recover, before reappearing just in time to take part in the final victorious allied counter-offensive at the end of the war. Backing that up was George Webster's box of war medals.

"You're telling me you fought in World War One!" I said incredulously.

A look of pain crossed Webster's face. "Yes," he said quietly. "It is a terrible memory, but one we must include."

"Look, I'm sorry Mr Webster, but none of this proves anything beyond the fact you had a namesake - an ancestor I presume - alive at the time. You can't have been born 124 years ago and look the age you do now. It just isn't possible."

"Have a look at these," he said handing me a little stack of photographs. I leafed through them and I had to admit they did look a lot like the man in the room with me. The first few, of a school boy in stiff Edwardian clothing, then a very young looking army officer circa 1918 and a young man in his prime around his mid-twenties seemed to age naturally enough. But then there was a series, roughly one every ten years or so, where the subject hardly seemed to age, or at least did so very slowly. The eras were obvious enough from the changing fashion, but the man in the photo seemed only three or four years older for each passing decade.

Aside from this mystery I noticed two other things. The first was that from the 1920's onward all the pictures seemed to have been taken at Deepwell - the building was instantly recognisable inside and out. This was true even for the one presumably taken during the Second World War, again showing the man in officer's uniform.

The other thing - or rather person - to draw my attention was a woman from the photograph taken in the 1930s. Several of the pictures had other people in them, usually female and attractive in accordance with the style of the time, but none of those particularly caught my eye. But the odd thing with the lady from the thirties was that I felt like I recognised her.

The black and white photo had been taken on the terrace overlooking the gardens at the rear of the house. It looked like it had been a warm summer's day. George - if it really was him - was in shirtsleeves and his guests in light summer clothing. The atmosphere looked relaxed and informal - or what passed for informal in 1936. An attractive woman of about 25 was sat at a table, a drink before her and gazing up fondly at the standing George. I was sure I had seen her somewhere before, although I couldn't imagine how or remember where.

"Who's this lady?" I asked George pointing to the photo.

He gave a fond smile of remembrance and then he sighed. "Ah, that's Vera. I genuinely loved her, if only for a while. There have been so many down the years, but she was as close to me as any. Always I have to let them go - my lovers, my friends, everyone. They age and I don't and it's a barrier that can't be overcome. I hope I've never been cruel about it though. I always make sure they are financially well-off and have as good a life as possible. And I keep tabs on them and help if they need it."

I was about to ask more about Vera, but George changed the subject before I could speak. "So do you believe me now? I'm the man in those photographs. I'm 124 years old and I have a story to tell - a story that can be all yours. It's the truth," he looked me in the eyes, "what do you say?"

"I ... I believe you." And I did. Somehow I knew that if George said it, then it must be so. More than that, it felt right somehow.

"Good, thank you Ed. That means more to me than you yet guess. I think that's enough for today. Go and find Izzy and have some fun. We can start work properly tomorrow." George opened the door from his office to the one Sarah Lim occupied and told her to help me find my wife. Then he shut his office door and left me alone with his PA. I was feeling as confused as I always seemed to whenever I talked to our mysterious host.

Sarah in contrast, was pleasantly down to earth. She smiled at me and said, "No need to search for Izzy, I know where she is. I saw her walking in the gardens with Martha only a few moments ago," and as she said this, the oriental beauty, as smartly efficient as she was gorgeous, walked to her window and pointed outside.

I joined her there and, sure enough, I saw Izzy and Martha, the latter still in her maid uniform, admiring the rose garden behind the house before wandering beyond it toward a hedge. It seemed George Webster had a relaxed attitude toward his staff's duties, as Martha and Izzy were chattering happily as they walked.

Then through a gap in the hedge came two men. Even at this distance I could see they were well built and strong-looking and I had a strong suspicion they were handsome too, although all I could really tell was that one looked older than the other. I suddenly recalled what Izzy has said about two gardeners, and also the permissions I had so freely granted, and was instantly certain where this was heading.

"Ah," said Sarah meaningfully, "Steve and Pavel." She sighed, "Pavel was such a sweet boy when he arrived; just 19. But Steve is a very naughty man and has rather led him astray I'm afraid. Still, I can't complain. They both have a lot of energy, shall we say. Izzy will enjoy herself, I think."

Then, seeing I looked rather stricken, despite what I had said the night before, Sarah suddenly turned to me and took my hand. "I know," she said, "let's go and join them. If you're busy fucking me, then you can't really complain about what your wife's doing. Besides it'll be such fun. I mean four people is just two couples, but six is a proper orgy."

"Um ... err ... Mr Webster ..." I said, nodding toward the closed door.

"George won't mind; in fact he would be the first to tell us to go join in. Come on or we'll miss all the fun. I've been looking forward to having you - and Izzy - ever since you walked through my door yesterday."

This reminded me just how hot Sarah Lim was. I knew I wanted her and suddenly the idea of fucking her while I watched my wife being taken by one of those 'energetic' men seemed very appealing. And then there was Martha. The West Indian Londoner was sexy enough for any man. Maybe something would happen there too. I smiled, "Yes, come on, let's go. Lead on - you know the way better than I do."

It took only a couple of minutes to go down the stairs and pass through the older part of the ground floor. This was different to the rest. The walls were stone rather than wood panelled brick, and we passed massive oak doors studied with metal, although to be honest I wasn't paying too much attention at that time. My mind was on what my wife might be doing.

Sarah led me across the terrace and through the rose garden, which we traversed in much shorter time than Izzy and Martha had done, and directly toward the hedge. We passed through the gap to find a less formal, more natural vegetable and herb garden.

"They'll have gone to the summer house," Sarah said confidently, "this way, to the right."

Sarah's guess proved correct. The summer house was a wooden pavilion, large enough to accommodate perhaps eight or ten people relaxing inside and out, or in this case a small orgy of a half dozen. It had two large windows and a door in the front and a small veranda, with a few easy chairs. Inside were a couple more chairs and two couches.

Sarah held a finger to her lips to signal for me to be quiet and then the pair of us carefully approached the nearer of the windows. Peering inside, we saw Steve, Pavel, Martha and Izzy. All four were naked, with their clothing strewn about on the floor, and for the moment they were too busy to notice us.

The two guys were sat on one of the couches and the girls were kneeling on the floor before them between their parted legs and heads down in their groins. If I had any doubt about what was happening, the slurping, sucking noises dispelled it - two cocks were getting blow-jobbed. Steve looked to be around 40 and powerfully built. I thought he had a slightly cruel expression. He also had his cock buried in my wife's mouth and she seemed pretty enthusiastic about it, judging by the way her head was moving up and down.

Pavel - Sarah had told me he had Polish parents, although he had lived in the UK since he was seven - was younger, about 20 or so I guessed, and slimmer, but handsome, with an unruly mop of black hair. I admired Martha's beautiful ebony form, as she sucked the young man's cock. She had a magnificent rounded backside and breasts. I knew I had to have her before the week was out - indeed, why not now?

I was being aroused by watching this real life porno unfolding before my eyes - and one in which my wife was starring - and I guess Sarah was too because I suddenly realised she was fumbling with my belt buckle and zip. I helped her and in moments she had my stiffening cock out and was stroking it with her right hand, while with her left she had pulled her short tight skirt up round her waist and then plunged her fingers inside her panties to find her clit.

As Sarah masturbated both of us, we carried on watching. Steve said something I couldn't hear and the two girls stopped their cock-sucking and stood up, the men remaining seated. Izzy climbed onto the couch and then lowered herself onto Steve's waiting erection, gripping it to steer it to her pussy. Steve had a big cock, a little longer than mine but not as thick perhaps (and it my opinion the latter matters more) but Izzy took it without difficulty, sinking down until his dick was buried to the balls inside her.

While this was happening, Martha was doing the same thing with Pavel. Once both girls were in place they began to move, the two cowgirls fucking the throbbing cocks on which they were impaled.