Loving Carol
The story so far;
Martin rescued Anne from a torrential summer downpour. She was soaked, even her panties were wet, she'd told him. He offered her a clean towel and the use of his clean rugby shirt. She climbed into the back of his Transit van and stripped, naked. She seduced him, took his, long past its sell-by-date, virginity and over the next two weeks taught him to fuck and please a girl. She then introduced him to her Mother, also named Anne. He called her Anne-too and was happy to meet the sexual appetite of both beautiful women. Shortly after this his Aunt then Mother seduced him. They, in turn, sent him to his cousin Sally, who was waiting naked in the bath for his arrival. They had strict instructions to report to the farm, where the two Anne's lived, by nine pm.
When Martin and Sally arrived Martin found that all of the women that had seduced him and he had subsequently fucked, regularly, were waiting for him. His Mother explained that although he had thought he had been screwing lots of different, unconnected, for the most part, women he had actually been having sex with his sisters, or more accurately, half-sisters. That everyone in the room, including himself, had the same Father AND that the man he'd thought was his Father AND that which he'd thought was his Uncle and Sally's Father, were his half-brothers. His Father had had a harem of five beautiful women. He had made them each pregnant a few times and their subsequent daughters.
Martin was expected to assist his other Brothers, the actuality of half-anythings being totally ignored within the family, in servicing the females in the family and, if he was 'up to it' take over as the family cock and produce the next generation. In order to prove himself 'up to it' Martin was required to satisfy the five women of his Father's harem and produce a child with one of the younger family females.
The previous chapter told of the Breakfast Orgy. This one starts a few days later.
This is part 14 of an ongoing story. If you have not read the preceding chapters then this might not make a great deal of sense on its own.
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Loving Carol
"Anne will be round tonight," Mum said right out of the blue, "Early bed and up early in the morning. Carol wants to see you," she chuckled dirtily, "wants you there at 9 sharp. I'll drop you off and pick you up later. OK?"
"Nine o'clock? That's the middle of the night!" I laughed.
"She's an early bird," Mum responded with a laugh, "take your camera, you might find it fun."
Anne and me went up to bed at 9pm and she woke me at 6am. She'd missed me, apparently.
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Loving Carol
"The door's on the latch, she'll still be exercising. Just go in and close it properly behind you. The gym's in the conservatory. See you later."
It was only about ten feet to the door Mum having driven me up the driveway, 'to save my little legs' she laughed.
Carol is Anne-too's Mum, Anne's Nan. She lived in the Crescent, next to Angela. As you'd expect it was a big house standing in it's own grounds. A sweeping driveway allowed vehicles to drive in one entrance and out the other without turning around. A pond with a naked, buxom nymphet formed the water feature. Her hands cupped her large breasts and water squirted from each nipple. I'd not seen it before. I took a photo and Mum laughed and waved as I pushed the front door open cautiously.
No alarms, no beefy bodyguard leapt out much to my relief. Closing the door I dropped the catch and wiped my feet then slipped my shoes off. She had a near white carpet!
I'd stepped into a large, high vestibule. Stairs started just to my right, went up a little way then turned left. They turned left again near the top leaving the last step to lead onto the minstrels gallery on the left and a corridor on the right. Like I said it is a large house.
On the ground floor there was a door left and right leading to two of the four front rooms. I walked down the wide corridor ahead and through the door at the end and into a very large room that had a kitchen at the far end and a sort of snug stroke mini dining area. A strange whirrrrring noise came through the open French windows on the opposite wall. I headed in that direction.
Carol was on a bicycle. The bicycle was on rollers and Carol was peddling like crazy. The rollers were proper cycle training rollers. Two rollers at the back for the back wheel of the bike and one at the front. The rear wheel sat between the rear rollers and a connecting drive chain drove the front roller thereby enabling the cyclist to balance. Did you follow that? The bike wasn't fixed to the rollers in any way so the cyclist was totally dependent on speed to keep him or her upright. To the front left was a large dial probably indicating speed, there was a large needle marker and marks on the diameter of the disc but no numbers. On the other side was clearly a timing device.
The bike was a proper racing bike but had a fixed wheel, what we'd now call a 'fixi'. Move the pedals and the wheel moves. Stop moving the pedals and the wheel stops. There was no free-wheel option. She looked to be pushing a good few inches, impressive!
Carol was wearing the full cycling kit. Tight fabric long shorts with what I knew, from my own experience, was a chamois pad protecting her delicate parts. Traditionally there wouldn't be any panties, bespoke or otherwise, as they tended to chaff parts that much preferred a more gentle touch. Up top was an equally snug fitting short sleeved top. She was wearing an old style track helmet and cycling gloves.
"Morning Martin, you're early. Be another ten minutes yet. Mind waiting?"
It wasn't really a question.
"Not at all, mind if I take a few photos?" I replied tentatively.
"None whatsoever, just don't ask me to pose," she laughed without any suggestion of breathlessness at all.
That's fit for a woman of her age. I'm too much of a gentleman to even hint at what her age might be
.
The first shot had to be a rear view! I sat on the floor behind her and framed the shot, her bum, on the third, obviously. She was rock steady on the rollers, barely a movement except her legs, going nineteen to the dozen. Click, click, click. Moved back a bit, bum on the third but the two dials in view, click, click. I moved to the side, Carol accelerated, the needle moved up about ten minutes to the noon position. Her head stayed stationary. Her shoulders didn't move, just her legs, they went faster. Her boobs on the top third, bum on the lower, near enough. Click, click. Moved to the front quarter. The zip on her top only done up to the bottom of her tits, nice full roundness fully on show. Top third, click, click. In closer, same framing, click, click. I stayed as I was, enjoying the view.
Her speed reduced and reduced and reduced over about ten minutes. Once she was down to a walking pace she sat up, one hand on the handle bars for a few moments then none. That took both skill and experience.
"Nearly there, Martin, just a few more minutes warming down," she said as she unzipped her top.
Click, click, click.
"Your Mum said you seemed to have an instinct for the shot," she laughed, maybe we can build on that sometime?" she mused aloud.
Her top opened wide without the zip to hold it together. She clearly wasn't concerned either about her exposure or my taking photos. Click, click, click. She looked hot! Very hot. Her body glowed. I should point out that horses sweat, gentlemen perspire and ladies glow. Carol positively glowed and looked utterly stunning for it.
She stopped peddling, the bike stopped and she steadied herself on the little platform on the other side of the rig. I'd not noticed that. Just a simple wooden step. Lifting her bike effortlessly she hung it on the wall, picked up the step in one hand and the rollers in the other and parked them under the bike.
"There, exercise done for the day. Fit for anything now," she chuckled, "Need a shower, follow."
I followed her beautifully designed bum as it led me back into the house and up the stairs, click, click. I followed her across a large, practical bedroom and into a stylish bathroom. She turned to face me and started to peel off her tight top. Click, click.
"You all clean and scrubbed, Martin?"
This as she started to roll down her tight long shorts. Click, click, pause, click. She turned to face away from me and eased the shorts off her toes one foot at a time. Click, click. Picking up the discarded top and holding her shorts she turned back to face me. Click, click, click. She smiled and struck a pose. Click, click, click.
"I am," I confirmed with a big, thank you, smile, "but I'm not restricted to just one shower a day, if you'd like a hand?" I offered hopefully.
"That's a fiver I owe your Mum!" she laughed, "I told your Mum that you wouldn't have the nerve to offer to join me in the shower. She told me not to bet on it. I did and lost. I'll hold your camera while you get undressed."
I stripped off, no problem and Carol raised the camera to her eye and adjusted her position. I posed. Click, click, click.
"I'll put the camera on the bed, we don't want those photos spoiled, do we?" she laughed, "if they come out I'll want some, as big as they'll go," she added with a dirty grin, "good job you didn't pursue cycling as a hobby, totally the wrong shape, like your Dad, brick shit 'ouse but two storey. Now let's get me cleaned up, hair and all."
I laughed delightedly and glanced down at her completely smooth pussy.
"The hair on my head, you twit, there's not even enough down there to warrant letting you loose with a razor."
I loved Carol instantly. OK, she was beautiful but that's taken as read. She was one of Dad's harem and therefore beautiful by default. Only about five four, maybe five? She had delicious boobs, couldn't think of them as tits, they were boobs, firm yet soft, way more than a couple of large handfuls each. Despite her boobs she was very slender with a very nice, slim waist and great legs, good muscle structure, not bulky more sinuous, endurance muscles. The standard, soft blue eyes and dusty blonde hair. They say that gentlemen prefer blondes and Dad was very clearly a gentleman.
Carol was full of fun. She seemed to bubble with excitement all the time. I felt totally at ease instantly. She cracked silly jokes and even laughed at mine. Something my Mum seldom did. There was something about her, couldn't put my finger on it then and it's still difficult some forty years on. I was to discover, over the years, that she had a razor sharp mind, never missed a trick. She was undoubtedly the boss and deservedly so.
"Hair first?"
"Hair first and I like it vigorous. Use your fingers. Get in really deep."
With her hair vigorously fingered I rubbed soap on my hands and held them up enticingly.
"Where would you like me to start," I asked pointedly.
"Your choice." she smiled contentedly.
I started at her shoulders...
"You ride your bike a lot?" I enquired conversationally as I soaped her down.
"Bin riding since I was able to ride without my Dad holding me up. Met your Dad when I was out on my bike."
"Bob rode a bike?" I asked in astonishment, really?"
