A Tale of Alpha Male, Master and Slave,
Ménage and Erotic Romance
––––––––
Part Four of the
‘Submissive to Her Master’ Series
Author: Simone Leigh
Part Four
Enticed
I wake to a ghostly scene. Still in the heart of the night, the moon shines bright and clear over a monochrome landscape. Wraiths of mist kiss the surface of almost still waters and the trees, black and silver in the moonlight, reach upwards, silhouetted against a velvet sky.
Warm in the blankets, Brin’s arm curls around me, the warmth of his body comforting against the coolth. I inhale sharp clean air, breathing out steam, then drift back to sleep.
I wake again to bright sunshine, a clattering noise and a delicious odour.
Never had a man cooked for me before I met Brin, but now it has become his habit. I sit up, blinking against brilliant sunshine and a blue vaulted sky.
“What is that wonderful smell?”
Brin looks up from where he is poking something around in a frying pan. It sits atop the fire, revived from where we were sitting by it the night before.
“Morning.” he smiles. “Bacon and mushrooms. Eggs too in a minute.”
Lining up my brain cells. “But I hate mushrooms.”
“Didn’t you just say they smelled wonderful?”
It is hard to argue with the logic of this, so I settle for gathering up the blankets around my skin, naked to the cold air and peering over at what is cooking.
Crisp, pink and brown bacon competes for space with mushrooms sizzling in the pan.
A thought occurs to me. “Where did you get mushrooms? There weren’t any in the groceries.”
Brin head points to a dry-stone wall a few hundred yards away. “Yon meadow has horses. There’s always a good chance of field mushrooms in an unspoiled spot like this. No fertilizers or pesticides.”
Wild mushrooms?
“Are you sure they’re safe?”
Brin, head tilted, gives me an old look, then spears one at random from the pan, blows on it for a moment, and shoves it, whole, into his mouth.
“I’d not be here now if I couldn’t tell an edible mushroom from the risky kind.”
He divvies up two tin plates of food, cracks eggs one-handedly into the pan and less than a minute later serves me breakfast, not exactly in bed, but a passable stand-in.
I hate mushrooms. Tentatively I bite into one.
It is a taste from Heaven. Greedily I stuff myself with the rest of them before starting on my eggs and bacon. Brin watches me with some amusement.
“So you hate mushrooms, do you?”
A bit embarrassed by my own performance, I blush and say nothing, concentrating on my food.
“Don’t worry about it.” he says. “I was just the same as a kid. I always thought I hated mushrooms until my Dad took me on a camping trip when I was about eight. He did the same thing, fried eggs, bacon and mushrooms on an open fire in the fresh air. I’ve loved ‘em ever since.”
He sniffs, reflectively. “Anyway, it’s a good job you’ve decided you like ‘em. There’s plenty more back there and a couple of them are the size of pizzas.”
Wrapped in my blanket, I eat one of the best meals of my life, sitting in chill air and warm sunshine, revelling in the company of this man who has rescued me from myself. I do not realise that I have lapsed into silence until Brin once more breaks into my thoughts.
“So what would you like to do today?”
What do you do out in the wilds like this?
“Um, I don’t know. What could we do? There’s nothing here.”
Brin raises eyebrows at this. “Nothing here? In one of the most beautiful places you could visit?”
I feel a fool. “What would you suggest?”
He waves an arm expansively around the lake. “Well there’s a walk that-a-way that’ll take you over and around that end of the lake,” He waves at the be-lilied shallows a mile or so to our right. “And then along the far shore for, well as far as you want to go. But about seven or eight miles along there’s a pub and a ferry stop. We could take the walk, stop at the pub for lunch and take the ferry trip back. How’s that sound?”
It sounds amazing.
“It sounds wonderful Brin. Yes, I’d love to do that.”
The walk is everything I could have hoped. Dragonflies skim bright water, birds dip for fish and everywhere there is the sweet-scented breeze. The path is winding and rough over broken turf, rocky outcrops and sandy mini-beaches. I almost turn an ankle a couple of times, so when we return, Brin insists that we call by the local small town to pick up a pair of quality walking boots for me. I feel a bit of a clown in the large stumpy boots, but Brin insists I look fine.
“There is a time and a place for fashion shoes and kitten heels. Walking on the fells isn’t it.”
“Are we walking on the fells?”
“We are tomorrow.”
The following day we do indeed walk a fell. Brin insists that it is not a rigorous walk on the scale of things, the fell being a mere midget of only a little over a thousand feet, but I am unused to this kind of activity. Purple faced and huffing, I scramble the final steep pull to the peak, almost on all fours on the slippery turf. Brin is ahead of me, striding out with a swing in his step.
“Catch your breath.” he says. “Let’s sit and have a coffee.”
Still wheezing for lack of breath, bending over to grab the stitch in my side, I let Brin pour the coffee before I stand up straight and take a look around. The view is astounding.
The mountains stretch as far as the eye can see in all directions, fading to a smoky blue in the far distance. Bright lakes nestle in the valleys, glinting in the sun. The day is one of sun and cloud, dappled light and shade.
“Wow!”
Brin looks at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Worth the climb?”
“Oh yes.”
That evening, I am as stiff as a board. I would love to soak in a hot bath, but of course this is impossible in the camper van.
“Here, lie down.” says Brin. “Let me work those muscles for you.”
I flop, face down onto the bed.
“Aw, c’mon.” he says. “I can’t massage you through jeans and boots. Get your clothes off.”
Awkwardly I strip off and lie down. My muscles just don’t want to move the way they should. Brin starts at my feet, massaging the soles with his thumbs, working the individual toes.
As he works his way up my calves, kneading and pushing, a warmth creeps through me, seeping through. At my thighs, the warm wends inwardly.
Brin knows exactly what he is doing to me. Teeth glinting white against his tanned skin, he hops onto the bed, straddling me across the legs. His hands glide beyond my thighs, kneading my lower back. Then, the fabric of his shirt straining as he stretches to caress my shoulders and arms, he kneels upright for a moment to strip off the shirt. I try to watch, awkwardly from my face down position, in the small wardrobe mirror to one side, as with an economical movement, he simply lifts the shirt over his head and off.
Fascinated by his now naked chest, I find myself watching Brin in the mirror, examining the subtle shadows of his tight stomach muscles, the line of hair tracing the path from his navel downwards beyond his belt, the sheen of perspiration over his shoulders.
Brin returns his attentions to my body. His massage is working wonderfully well and my previously stiff muscles are limbering and warming.
It is not only my muscles that are warming. A familiar glow is suffusing my loins and thighs. Restless, I adjust the position of my hips to allow my knees to part a little. Brin glances back for a moment to see what I am doing then smiles down at me.
“Don’t be in such a hurry. We’ve got all night.”
His voice is soft, his hands warm and hard as he smooths over my skin, fingers probing at tight knotted muscles.
“You should take more exercise.” he comments.
“Oh yes. I shall.” I promise. If this is the reward for exercise, I’ll be happy to do it.
Brin’s hands are working my upper spine and neck, heel of the palm pushing down into my shoulders as muscles crack and jump.
He lifts his weight from me and gets off the bed. “Turn over.” he says.
I roll onto my back to see Brin, his eyes fixed on mine, unbuckling his belt. As he shrugs off his jeans, his erection, freed from captivity, stands tall and hard, twitching slightly in a pulse-beat vibration.
Now he straddles me again, across the hips. He resumes his massage, but now it feels less than medical. Fingers spread wide, he strokes and caresses the soft skin of my stomach. Hands questing north, he fondles my breasts, squeezing softly before teasing at my puckering nipples with two fingers. Bending forward he nuzzles at me before gently taking a nipple between his teeth, biting gently and sucking, before trying almost to engulf me with his mouth.
So close now, Brin’s heady fragrance swims over me, his mix of spice and musk overlaying the clean sharp scent of a well-exercised man. Inhaling deeply, I close my eyes as I kiss the top of his head. His hair, still damp from the day, softly brushes my face, tickling my nose and making me giggle.
Brin looks up, a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s not kind to laugh at a man who is making love to you.”
I try to reply, but sneeze instead. “Your hair.... ah.... ah.... ah....”
“Ah don’t tell me you’re allergic to me.” he complains. “How can I fuck a woman who’s going to break out in a rash when I shove my cock inside her?”
This reduces me to helpless laughter. As I giggle insanely, Brin backs off to settle between my legs, nudging my knees apart to gain entry.
“Ah will you just shut up woman. How’s a man expected to concentrate?”
With difficulty, I curb my giggling as Brin lowers himself further between my legs. Realising his intentions, I rock my hip upwards, shoving a cushion underneath to support myself.
“Now there’s a good girl.” he mutters, as his face dips between my thighs.
Already primed by the massage, arousal washes over me in warm waves. Brin’s tongue lapping at my sex, I lie back, stretching like a cat, a sigh escaping unbidden.
Moist tinging suffusing my sex, Brin licks slowly at my pussy lips, not penetrating or probing, but sliding the silk of his tongue over my sensitizing skin.
Fingers push my thighs wider by a little, then tease apart my folds, opening me, releasing my flowing juices to be licked away. Lust spirals up in me as the fingers open my pussy lips completely, Brin’s hot breath laps against my entrance, before he fastens his mouth around me. His tongue sweeps inside my throbbing pussy, winding circles around my inner muscles, sending electric fizzing through me.
My blood singing, hips a-tremble, I am moaning now, continuously and uncontrollably.
My moaning becomes almost a wail as Brin’s tongue slips up to my engorging clit. Arousal becoming urgent, the on-coming rush is calling me.
A shudder shoots deliciously through me as my bud is nudged and teased. Slipping back the hood with one finger, Brin tantalises the hard nub with his tongue, bedevilling the tip with flicks and dabs.
The blankets are warm and damp under me as my pussy floods, but I don’t care. Blooming out from my core comes my orgasm. Spreading through me like the opening of the petals of some exotic flower, it ripples through me in waves, sending cunt and thighs and belly into rapturous spasms.
Yelling incoherently, I writhe and twist on the bed, Brin gripping hard at my hips to hold me still as he continues to work my ecstatically clenching clit and core.
Finally, it is too much. “Stop Brin! For God’s sake, please stop.”
He withdraws and kneels up, wiping his mouth and wearing a smug expression. “It’s nice to know I’ve still got it.”
Lying limply, I nod. “You have that Brin. You have that.”
It dawns on me that Brin is waiting, expectant. Rousing myself again, I sit up. “Lie down Brin. Your turn now.”
He arches his eyebrows. “So.... there’s a change. Giving the orders now are we?” But his tone is light and his eyes are laughing. Lying on the bed, he watches me, his shaft still dancing to a heartbeat.
Sitting beside him, I bend to take it in my mouth, pausing to lick away the dewdrop on the tip. It is easier for me now than on previous occasions. In this position, I have more control than when kneeling before him.
The silky skin, salty sweet on my lips, is warm, and as I apply a little pressure, encircling and squeezing with my mouth, Brin grunts quietly, his head pressing back against the pillow.
Tracing the outline of the head with my tongue, I support the base with one hand, making a ring with fingers and thumb. Feeling it harden and swell further, straining upwards against my hand, I slide my fingers up and down the length of Brin’s cock, all the while working the head with my tongue and lips.
Brin’s hand strokes my head. “Ah that’s good.” he says. “That’s really good.”
It gives me an odd feeling of power, this feeling of a live thing in my mouth and hand; feeling it jerk and pulse as I suck harder. Finally, feeling that I have persuaded the pulsing member as large and hard as I can manage, I release it and swing up onto the bed. This time I straddle Brin.
Positioning myself, my still dripping pussy, hot and wet, just brushing against the shaft, on all fours I lower my hips just enough to take the head into my cunt.
Brin thrusts upwards, trying to sheath himself in me, but I pull away, keeping my entrance still just kissing his cock-head.
Brin thrusts again, and again I pull away, always playing my sopping pussy-lips over the tip.
“Aw, c’mon. Have mercy woman. How much d’ya think a man can stand?”
It is delicious. For the first time in my life, I am controlling a man. He wants to fuck. He wants to drive his cock deep inside me, but now I am setting the terms. I turn Brin’s words back on him.
“Don’t be in such a hurry. We’ve got all night.”
He looks up at me quizzically. “Lie back.” I say. “Just relax. Let it happen.”
He doesn’t move, still gazing up at me as though I am a stranger.
“Do as you’re told.” I say.
He stares up at me with an expression of shock, then smiles ruefully, shrugs and lies back, eyes closed.
Holding the head with my pussy, I wind my hips in lazy circles. Brin groans, more loudly this time and it occurs to me that I now know what it means to be a ‘cock teaser’. Enjoying this game, I continue my gentle torment of the quaking shaft under my control.
Brin’s breath is growing rapid and he is sweating profusely. I notice that his hands are curled into tight fists and decide that it is time to play the game to the finish.
Aligning myself carefully, and with no warning, I smoothly lower myself onto the throbbing erection, all the way, as hard as I can, and then, just as quickly, pull away again, resuming my cunt-hold on the cock head.
This time, jerking, Brin yells. “Oh begorrah woman! You can only drive a man so far.”
I say nothing, but slip a couple of inches of cock into my pussy; just enough to grip it firmly with my pussy muscles, squeeze it a couple of times and then pull away again.
Brin is shuddering now, his hips quivering under me. He is not going to last too much longer so....
I lower myself again, gliding up and down Brin’s cock, riding him hard, slamming up and down for all I am worth. Breasts bouncing, panting with effort, I fuck him like there is no tomorrow.
It lasts about twenty seconds. Brin convulses and rocks, cumming hard. I reach back to massage under his balls and cock, feeling the pulsating root as he pumps his load into me. Revolving my hips, I keep going, drawing out the moment as long as I can for him.
“Ah bejaysus Martha. You’ve gotta stop! I can’t stand any more.”
I cease my grinding, still with Brin deep inside me, and he collapses back onto the bed gasping and twitching. A mood of sheer devilment on me, I slowly pull away, squeezing with my inner muscles as I do so, making him yelp again and leaving his relaxing cock trailing sticky cum over his stomach.
After a few moments, Brin wipes his hand over his face, then looks up at me.
“Congratulations my girl. You wouldn’t have done any of that a couple o’ weeks back I‘m thinking.”
“You’re not wrong there.” I laugh.
His eyes soften. “It was fantastic. Thank you. it’s not every woman that can really take a man for a ride like that. If I’d realised you had it in you, I’d have been more careful around you.”
“You did it Brin. You’ve made me.”
“No girl. You’ve done it yourself. I just helped you to see it.”
I don’t know how to follow this comment, so I opt for cowardice. “How about a hot drink?”
“Good idea.”
Sipping steaming coffee I ask “When is it that you want to get to your fruit picking job? I’d thought we were going straight there. I mean, it’s great that we’ve taken this little holiday, but I know you were concerned about getting the work.”
“You’re right. We should be moving along. Tell you what, when the seasons’ done, if you like we could come back here, or go wandering somewhere else.”
“That sounds great. I’d like that.” Warmed inside by more than just the coffee, I stretch and yawn. “Think I’m about ready to sleep.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
The following day, we set off for the fruit farm. A few hours’ driving south brings us to lush orchards and fertile fields. Green as far as the eye can see, sunlight slants through grey clouds. Rain glints as it falls and a rainbow forms over the greenery. I feel that I have already found my pot of gold.
Arriving at the fruit farm, the shed that is supplied as lodging for seasonal workers comes as a shock. I had never realised that it would be so squalid.
“Is this legal?” I mutter to Brin as I gaze in horrified fascination at peeling paint, broken windows and grubby pallets that pass for beds. Neither do I care for the mushroomy smell that clings to everything.
He rocks his hand back and forth. “Kinda. Thing is, they’re all desperate for the work, so no-one’s gonna complain or report it. Everyone here, is here voluntarily. It’s not like they’ve got the gang-masters here. So, everyone mucks in and makes the best of it.” He looks at my expression and laughs. “Don’t worry. We’ll sleep in the camper van, but we’ll meet up with the group in here on an evening. The nearest pub’s miles away, so usually we just get in a job lot of beer between us and enjoy the crack.”
“Usually? You know the people here? I though everyone was seasonal?”
“They are, but the same people often come back every year. We mostly know each other and it’s just getting together with old mates.”
I nod thoughtfully. It’s nice that Brin has friends here. We won’t be surrounded by strangers. I correct myself. Brin won’t be surrounded by strangers......
There is a sudden noise from outside and a tumult of voices.
The door bursts open and a crowd of people pile into the shabby room.
“Hey Brin! Great to see you.”
“Hi Brin. We were thinking you weren’t going to get here...”
“Hey, who’s this? You with Brin?”
The question is coming from a big, burly, blond man with an East European accent. Actually, beyond ‘big’. He is a giant of a man.
“Er yes. Hi. I’m Martha. And yes, I’ve come with Brin.”
Unsure of the etiquette here, I hold out my hand to shake. The blond man solemnly takes it and equally solemnly, shakes.
“Nice to meet you Martha. I’m Aron. I must say that you are a surprise. I’ve always thought of Brin as traveling alone.”
A bit unsettled by this, I want to continue the conversation to find out just what he means by this, but am interrupted by twin squeals from two girls rushing into the room. They dash up to Brin to hug him.
“Hey Brin!”
“Hi Brin. We were hoping you’d be here again.”
The girls are pretty. And young.
Young and pretty.
And Brin is hugging them back.
Aron is watching me through hooded eyes. “You known Brin long Martha?”
Biting back my automatic response, I fight to stay polite. “No, not long.”
I hardly know him at all. It’s barely been two weeks.
Aron continues. “He’s a free spirit is Brin. No offense, but I really am surprised to see him travel with anyone.” Belatedly, he seems to realise how this must sound. “You must be pretty special to be with him at all.”
“Mmm.” I nod non-committally as I watch the two girls pawing at Brin and he makes no attempt to stop them.
I don’t feel special.
I feel left out. Ignored.
There is a pop and a hiss as someone opens a can of beer. Brin turns to me, nodding sideways at a dark skinned, brown eyed man who is busy passing out cans of beer from a box.
“See Martha. I told you we’d be having a party.” He wraps an arm around the shoulder of each of the girls. “Come and meet Katarina and Kalene.”
Suppressing my inner demon, I paint a smile onto my face and hold out my hand again.
“Hi.” I say brightly. “Lovely to meet you. I’m Martha.”
The following day I join the morning shift to go out picking strawberries. Despite Brin’s warnings that it is hard work, I am dismissive. How hard can it be to pick a strawberry?
Twenty minutes later, bending double in a field, working my way along a row of plants, I am eating my words.
My back is already aching. When I stand up suddenly, there are stars in front of my eyes. The youngsters around me, mainly squat down to pick the berries, but my older muscles are unused to this position for extended periods, and so I alternate between squatting and bending.
We are paid by weight. Provided with a basket of empty punnets, each punnet of fruit is filled, and when all the punnets in the basket are full, they are taken to be weighed. The punnets must be full of perfectly ripe fruit with the green stalk left attached to slow down rot. From here they go straight to the local markets and supermarkets. Even a day-old strawberry is already past it’s best.
The people around me all have filled baskets much more quickly than I do. Their hands snatch at the ripe fruit, plucking them magically whole and unspoiled, to deposit them in an appetising way in the punnets.
I am so much slower. My punnets fill much more slowly. My filled baskets are weighed much less often.
Finally, it dawns on me to ask how much we are paid for this and am horrified at the answer. The reality of working on minimum wage comes home to me. It’s not as if I even need the money.
WHY am I doing this? After only a few hours - we haven’t even had a lunch-break yet - I am ready to give up and walk away. Only pride prevents me from doing so.
That evening, I am all but unable to move. My tortured muscles scream as I try to do anything. I collapse into bed, Brin massaging me to sleep.
The following morning, I feel a little better, although still very stiff. Brin rubs more life back into my muscles and I feel well enough to down coffee and porridge.
The day’s work is still hard, but I accept that I must pace myself. I volunteered to do this after all, and I want to be able to enjoy this oh-so-different life, the company of my new companions. At the end of the day, much improved over my first day, I take a shower in the communal facility, grab a bite of food and go in search of Brin, following the sound of music.
In the shed, the evening party has already started. Beer is flowing freely and people are dancing.
I freeze as I see that Brin is sitting in a corner with Katarina and Kalene, an arm, again, around the shoulder of each girl as the two chatter and laugh with him. Aron is there too, downing a huge glass of beer. As Brin spots me, he waves me over.
“Martha. We wondering where you were. How are you feeling now?”
“A lot better thanks.”
Brin is on the inside of the table with the two girls and so I sit next to Aron.
He looks sympathetic as I sit down. “It’s not funny the first time you do this kind of work. People don’t realise how hard it is. But you’ll be okay. It gets easier all the time.” He pats my knee. Somehow, his hand does not move away again.
As the evening progresses and beer cans open, I find Aron’s arm is around my waist. Brin is very obviously flirting with the two girls. They giggle and squeal and are all over him. He seems entirely unaware that I might think this inappropriate. Aren’t we lovers now? Isn’t he mine?
Aron is more than friendly. And in truth, I like the man. His hand strokes my thigh and, although Brin sees this, he shows no sign of jealousy or objection. Feeling a bit lost, I let Aron continue his attentions.
Eventually, Aron stands, holding his hand out to me. “Coming Martha?”
I look at Brin, who smiles hugely and waves me away. “Have fun.” Then he returns to his frolics with Katarina and Kalene.
Aron leads me to a quiet back room, a kitchen, drawing me inside and closing the door.
As he strokes my face, curling my hair in his fingers, his blue eyes are warm, admiring. “So beautiful you are Martha.”
He bends to kiss me and my body responds to him. I do not understand what is happening, why I am doing this. But I lean into the kiss open-mouthed, feeling a rush of warmth as Aron’s arms slip around my shoulders and waist.
Holding me tightly, his tongue traces the line of my teeth, tasting me. He pauses for a moment. “Mmm. Strawberries again. You taste good too Martha.”
His hands wander over my breasts, feeling them through the line of my clothes. Slipping a hand up inside my tee-shirt, he lifts it up and away from me before unclipping my bra. As my breasts swing free he bends to capture a nipple between his teeth, one hand rolling and tweaking at the other.
My body is taking me on an unintended trip. My pussy growing warm under Aron’s attentions, I marvel at my own reactions to this. Isn’t Brin my lover? And yet here I am with Aron, whilst Brin is playing around with two other women.
As Aron suckles at a breast, his hand quests south and my pussy gives my brain a kick, sending instructions to enter into the spirit of things. Fingers slipping inside the top of my jeans, my pussy gushes and my head finally gets the message. I moan and gasp, staggering slightly to lean against the blond giant.
“Ah that’s good Martha. I was beginning to think you didn’t want to play.” Aron scoops me up off my feet and deposits me to sit on the kitchen counter. He struggles for a moment with the button of my jeans and then the rasp of the zip announces that I am being thoroughly undressed.
I watch, mesmerised, as the big man unzips his own jeans, releasing his erection. It is huge, built on the same scale as the man himself. He pulls me forward by the hips, enabling me to wrap my spread legs around his waist. My arms up around his shoulders for support, I spread myself as wide as possible, to allow the entry of his colossal erection.
Cock-head nudging against my entrance, Aron grips me under the ass as he eases into me. Pushing only an inch or two of his shaft in at first, he thrusts lightly, slowly, opening me up, widening my passage.
It feels magical. Naked, supported by a kitchen counter, a-tremble with lust, I rock my hips, encouraging Aron inside my slick pussy.
Pussy juices running freely now, the counter under me grows slippery and I find myself sliding back and forth in time with Aron’s increasingly powerful thrusts. He is so big inside me, filling me completely. Each time he thrusts, harder each time, I gasp for breath. Perspiration runs slickly between my breasts, now flushing red.
My gasps turn to moans, loud moans. My head resting against Aron’s chest, it takes me a moment to realise that it is not only my own moans I am hearing. Un-noticed by me, Brin is in the room with Katarina and Kalene. Kneeling in front of Kalene, he has her skirt lifted and is mouthing at her panties. Her moans join my tormented whimpers as Aron fucks me harder and harder.
Shuddering now, afire with sheer sexual heat, my breath coming in little jagged pants, I feel the tension of on-coming climax. My cunt, hot with need, begins to spasm before with final release. Teetering on the brink, I vibrate with the need to cum before, suddenly, my orgasm explodes. Radiating outwards through my body, the sensation sizzles through me. Convulsive waves shatter through my cunt as it clenches and reclenches around Aron’s shaft. He pounds inside me, dragging out my climax, extending my pleasure.
Just as I think I can take no more, Aron clasps my hips tightly, pulling me in hard onto his own thrust before bursting inside me, filling my already sopping pussy with his cream. He bucks and gasps, then falls silent as he presses himself home.
In the background, shrieks, groans and yells tell me that Kalene is cumming and Brin is not far away either.
Sated and wilting, I sag against Aron, dripping with sweat, regaining my breath. He holds me quietly, still inside me, stroking my hair before, kissing the top of my head, he withdraws and, with some difficulty, zips his now semi-erect cock back into his jeans.
“Thank you Martha. That was very good.” He takes my hand and kisses it. It is a nice gesture which feels a little at odds with my current state; naked on a kitchen counter and dripping with sweat, pussy juices and cum. I nod acknowledgment and raise a smile.
Now that I am descending from my orgasmic high, my head once more in control, the first traces of regret are invading my thoughts. Cleaning myself up as best I can in the kitchen sink, trying to ignore the sounds of Katarina’s orgasmic cries, I get dressed. Aron wants me to return with him to the main room, but pleading exhaustion, I return to the camper.
Back in the van, my mood hits bottom. What was I thinking? How could I have done what I did? The man I had thought was my lover was busy fucking with two other women while I behaved like a complete tramp with an almost total stranger.
Brin returns to the van a few minutes later. As he opens the door and steps inside he is smiling, but his expression turns to shock as I blast at him.
“How could you?”
“Sorry? How could I what?”
“You were with those two girls....”
“So? They’re old friends. We’ve known each other years. What’s wrong? You seemed to be having a good time with Aron. I thought you were enjoying yourself. It sounded as though you were...”
“I thought that you and I.... I thought we were.... I thought....”
My words trail into uselessness as Brin stares at me, very obviously holding his silence as I rant at him.
“Have you quite finished?”
I nod.
“I told you Martha, almost when we first met, that you and me.... It’s not going to happen. You’re a lovely woman, but I’m not looking to settle with anyone. Been there. Done that. Never again.”
My eyes mist over as I absorb his words.
“Hey, don’t take on girl. I do like you. I thought you knew that.” He steps forward to take me into his arms but I back away.
“I’m sorry Brin. I can’t do this. I’m leaving in the morning.”
He expression washes between angry, upset and disappointed.
“I’m sorry you feel like that. I thought I was helping you. I see I was mistaken.” He stares at me for a long moment then turns and leaves.
As the door clicks closed, I throw myself down on the bed, sobbing.
The following morning, I wake in the grey dawn. I do not want to say any goodbyes. Just to leave quietly this life that is not mine. I want to go home. I want my nice house in its leafy avenue. I want normality.
Eyes still swollen from crying, I start the engine, and as quietly as I can, drive away.
Leaving the farm behind me, I take the camper along the little track leading to the main road. Lowering clouds, thin drizzle and a dismal day do nothing to improve my mood. A veil of depression falls across my memories of the previous few days. I thought I was a different person. I thought that Brin....... Can any person really change in such a short time? I don’t know.
Could Brin have changed in such a short time either? Even if he had wanted to?
Probably not.
At some level, I know that I have not been fair to him. He never made me any promises.
Do I actually want to leave? Heaving a deep breath, I pull over, park up, and pour myself coffee from a flask, giving myself time to think before I do anything I will regret.
The coffee warms me through and the steam penetrates sinuses still tight from crying. Simply feeling physically, a little better, helps my thinking. And as though syncing with me, sunshine starts to break through the clouds.
My thoughts clearer, my ill mood dispersing, I know that I should at least make things right with Brin. He did not deserve my treatment of him.
Pulling out my mobile, I tap in a message.
Sorry about last night. I know I was wrong to talk to you like that, but this isn’t for me. I’ve got to go, but I hope we are still friends. If you come by my area again, I would love to see you. Martha xx
In less than a minute, my phone bings ‘Message received’.
I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know I pushed you too far. Yes of course still friends. I’ll be passing by again. Brin xxx
Back in the driving seat, I feel renewed, relieved.
Arriving at the junction of the main road, I pull hard on the hand brake, pondering.
To the right lies the safety and security of my home and all the things I have known over all my years. To the left is the route to a strange and wild world, uncertainty and adventure.
Flicking the indicator, I turn to the left and drive through a green, green landscape, lit by sunshine breaking through clouds.
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