Sally lay on the sofa, stroking her stomach. The rain hissing on the window was making her dozy. Her hand was warm inside her jeans, and she lay there happily absorbing the peace after the chaos of the recent weeks. She couldn’t remember when she had last been alone. Janie was great, soothing and admiring company, and staying with her was like stepping into a warm bath. But still, Sally wasn’t good at being on her own for long. Not even twenty minutes. And she couldn’t bear the silence.
She jumped up off the sofa, feeling slightly dizzy, and went to get the wine out of the fridge. She didn’t want to wait for Janie. She poured herself a big glass, then paced round the sitting room, peering out of the windows. There was nothing out there; just a grey sky streaked with a kind of livid white as the day began to die. And branches: branches round the window, branches in the distance, branches punching the air as the wind tossed them.
Couldn’t live down here for long, she thought. No cars, no shops, no men. She’d never leave the curtains open once it was dark in London – too many weirdos prowling about – but she didn’t feel the same fear here. There was no-one for miles and nothing to see if they did peer in. Sally drank some more wine. It swirled comfortably round her skull and the delicious, familiar sense of abandon kicked in. She picked up one of Janie’s paintbrushes, which were standing in glass pots, ready for action. Janie may have looked like she was on another planet half the time, but she always had a project going on. Where was she, anyway? Sally wondered. Had she stumbled upon a gypsy woman selling trinkets? Fallen into a cow pat? Got run over by a tractor? How hard was it to pick up a couple of logs? Sally would have gone out and sawn a couple of those stupid branches off a tree, just to be quick. Janie must have been gone half an hour. The grandfather clock in the hall wheezed, started to chime, then thought better of it.
Sally changed the music, selecting some mournful Mahler. Mustn’t go to sleep, she thought. Just try to think. She sat down on the sofa and stroked the paintbrush against her cheek. A project. If Janie had a project, even if it was painting this little hovel, then Sally should have a project as well, otherwise she’d go out of her mind with boredom. She needed to think about something more exciting than playing Babes in the Wood down here. She needed to think about the future.
Her waistband felt tight as she lay back on the sofa, and she unzipped her jeans. She’d been out of work a mere couple of weeks, but it showed. She always ate more when she was idle. She glanced towards the window, and pulled the jeans right off. That was better. Her stomach and legs felt free now, and the heaters had warmed the room so it was perfectly cosy to lie there half-dressed. Besides, she still had on Ben’s lovely jumper. Sally tickled the brush over her face again, as if she was applying blusher, then she flicked it up and down her neck. Wonder what Janie would use this brush for, she thought. It was quite thick, with a sturdy handle, but the bristles were soft as kitten fur, still brand new. She’d like to help with the decorating, even if it was just choosing colours. Janie might not be adventurous enough. They could make this cottage over completely; perhaps get Cute Cottages magazine down to do a ‘before and after’ feature.
She felt a familiar singing in her ears as a possible new business idea germinated. She scrabbled for her mobile phone, then realised there was no signal down here. That summed it up, really: total backwater. She took another slurp of wine. She’d definitely call the magazine later, from outside, where she could get a signal. She flung herself back into the soft cushions and picked up the brush again, twiddling it like a cheerleader’s baton through her fingers before taking the handle delicately between finger and thumb. She touched the tips of the bristles to her leg and flinched as they tickled. She did it again, squirming as her skin became accustomed to the hairy touch, then she flattened the brush over her thighs, sweeping it down to her knees and back again, before flicking the stiff hairs up and down the insides of her bare legs. She started to wriggle about on the sofa as she let her hands guide the brush absent-mindedly. Her jumper rode up her stomach as her hands moved about, and the brush flicked over her knickers. She did it again, feeling the ruffle of her pubic curls. On impulse she ripped the knickers off as well and gasped as the cool air kissed the blonde triangle of curls between her legs. She locked her thighs over her muff for a second, giggling to herself, then parted her legs wider to let the brush explore.
The branches scratched at the window and Sally jumped, but she kept her eyes firmly closed. She wasn’t about to be scared by a tree. The front door creaked in the wind and so did the floorboards in the hall, but she knew Janie wasn’t back yet.
She started rocking her buttocks on the soft cushions, dancing about on her bottom as the music murmured around her and the paintbrush stroked faster and faster up her legs, over her stomach in circles, and down again, but determined to avoid the crucial spot. For the moment the friction of her butt against the embroidered cushion covers was enough. She would hold the paintbrush away from herself for as long as she could bear it.
Her head started to sway and she stuck the tip of her tongue out to glide across her lips like a cat. She rotated her hips on the cushions, her thighs moving further apart as the paintbrush played between them, still only flicking and stroking. With each stroke of the brush her hips rocked more wildly. The sofa was too soft now. She wanted a hard surface, some discomfort. She supported her weight on her elbows and slid off the sofa onto the floor with a thump. Then she slid both hands between her pale thighs and parted her legs wider, reliving her dancing days. She held the backs of her knees and pointed her toes like a ballerina until she was doing the splits, aware that the shocking pink crevice running between her legs was open now. She could feel the damp slick of her pussy-lips as she eased them apart. Damn this godforsaken place! She wished she had a solid length of male muscle to shove in there. She wriggled herself open and closed a couple of times, relishing the sticky sensations. There was no way she could go for two weeks down here with only a paintbrush for company.
Suddenly, Sally heard another scraping sound. She glanced at the window, the breath caught in her throat. Somebody had decided to answer her prayers – or maybe realise her worst fears. Either way, she wasn’t alone after all. Someone was out there, watching her. It couldn’t be Janie, because she wouldn’t hang around like that in the garden, she would march round to the front door. The music was too loud to hear footsteps. Although the window was steamed up, it looked like a man, standing in the rose-bed, calmly looking in.
It was her imagination gone wild, she told herself, but despite her alarm she was turned on by the idea. She wasn’t afraid. There couldn’t be anyone really scary down here. It was just some local, coming past on his way back from sheep shearing, or a tourist getting lost. Give them all something to talk about while they get in the harvest, and give myself a treat into the bargain, she thought. She tossed her head, making herself feel dizzy, then glanced up again. The face was still there. It was definitely male. It wore a peaked cap and had a large unshaven chin. Its mouth was moving, as if saying something, and then there was a tap on the window. Sally crooked her finger at the figure, beckoning it in. The man glanced from right to left, jabbed his thumb sideways, but still didn’t move.
Have it your way, she thought. You could be the cottage ghost, for all I care. I’m not stopping now. If anything, this feels even better.
She bent her knees so that her toes were resting on the ground, then relaxed her shoulders into the cushions, and closed her eyes. The paintbrush travelled to the top of her legs, up over her smooth, flat stomach, then hovered over the rise of her pubic mound. The very tips of the bristles picked up the tight curls, and she sighed out loud. Sally wondered what he was thinking. She tried to think of him as Mastov, but that didn’t work. Mastov belonged in London, and anyway he was already history. This was someone fresh, and new. She dropped the paintbrush. Her fingers waggled over the soft patch of hair. She tried to keep them back, tried to tease herself for a moment longer, but the foreplay with the brush and the idea of the man watching were too delicious. She burrowed into the curling nest, crowded her fingers in for a moment, then pulled back, her nails tangling in the blonde hair that sprang over her sex-lips. Keeping her thighs open in the splits meant that all Sally’s parts felt exquisitely sensitive and exposed. Every tiny millimetre was visible to the man, and anyone else for that matter, but her legs were aching now. She relaxed her thighs a little.
She snatched up the paintbrush and held it like a spear over the inviting target, made herself wait. Made him wait. Let him look for a little longer. Would he be getting stiff, watching the paintbrush which threatened to stimulate her? Her pussy was aching, twitching and contracting like a sponge being squeezed, the tiny muscles puckering to take something in. Anything.
Sally’s knees jerked as her hand tired of holding the paintbrush over herself. She gave in. Gently she started to swipe the bristled head up and down the dark-pink slit while her other hand held her lips open. The bristles bent softly into her contours and made small circles round the bud of her clitoris. Her fingers started to follow the movements of the paintbrush, round and in and out, probing until either the brush or her finger – she couldn’t tell which – scraped across the hidden kernel of her clit, making it burst into life and start to throb.
Sally wriggled again, throwing herself backwards as her fingers kept guiding the paintbrush, or rather the paintbrush guided them. The conflicting urges were unbearable, to hold back and to plunge in, and her clitoris and everything around it ached with suspense as the brush dipped delicately between her legs. They felt puffy now with excitement. She snatched the brush away, touched it around her clit for a second longer, then gradually increased the tempo until, like a bolt of lightning, the paintbrush hit its mark. She imagined the man crashing in through the window, grabbing the paintbrush from her, rubbing it hard against her, making it work her into a froth, then taking out his stiff cock, tossing aside the brush, and plunging his rigid cock into her instead.
She couldn’t stop herself. She started to work the brush furiously up and down the raw slit, rubbing and circling her burning clit until she could do nothing except raise her buttocks right off the cushions and thump back down again, her knees flopping wide open and her moans coming loudly in her private frenzy.
Sally’s hair tumbled across her face, blocking out the room and the wind and the rain and even the man outside as she flung her head from side to side, still holding herself open with one set of fingers while the head of the brush rotated mercilessly. Its bristles stroked every available part of her, as if it had a mind of its own.
She turned the brush round in her fingers, grabbed the thick wooden handle, and started to slide it in and out, her small arm working like a piston as she thrashed about. Heat building through her, crashing and burning, her arm with the paintbrush flexing to push the blunt handle inside her one more time then relaxing as the flood broke and the juice started to ooze out of her.
The CD clicked to an abrupt end and the branches rapped on the window again. The warmth of the brush and its friction subsided, and Sally opened her eyes blearily as she came out of her trance. The grandfather clock cleared its throat again. She glanced across the sofa towards the hall, and back towards the window.
It had been her imagination; there was no one there. Time to come to her senses, she thought. She cupped her moist sex, nestling between her loose thighs. Her face flooded with heat, and she drew her legs slowly together. Then she sprang across to the window. She banged her forehead on the glass, trying to see out, but there was no sign of anyone. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She reached behind her, and groped about for her jeans. Her heart was juddering. Where the hell was Janie?
‘Evening.’
It was the face at the window, except he was inside the house now, standing in the kitchen doorway. His arms were folded across his chest as he surveyed the sofa, the cushions, the paintbrush and, finally, Sally, hopping about with one leg still stuck in her jeans. He had a dark-green shooting jacket slung over his shoulder, shiny with rain and specks of mud. His trousers were also dark green, looked soaking wet, and were tucked into chunky mud-caked boots. As far as Sally could tell he didn’t have a gun, although he looked the type who would take a shot at a person just as easily as a pigeon. He had the ruddy cheeks and unkempt hair of someone who lived and worked permanently outdoors and cared little about his appearance. His stubby fingers looked as if they would be happiest wringing the necks of rabbits. His eyes were pale-blue, slightly too small, but piercing and now fixed on the spot where Sally had been writhing on the floor with the paintbrush.
‘Who are you?’ she said, trying to sound brave. It came out like a lamb’s bleat. She was shaking so much that she couldn’t get the jeans up her leg.
‘Name’s Maddock. From up the farm. I was just passing.’
Sally stared back at him. The words took a while to sink in. Up the farm. Not a totally random nutter, then. She vaguely remembered Janie talking about a nearby farm.
‘Did you see my friend?’
‘Not seen anyone on the road. And once I got here I’m afraid I was a little distracted. Cottage been empty for months, and what do I find the day I decide to come by? A bit of stuff, wriggling about on the floor and giving out a peepshow for free.’
‘She’s out there looking for logs, and she’ll be back any minute,’ said Sally, ignoring the stranger’s comment.
‘Who’s that, then? Your friend’s another she? No boyfriend down here to keep you company, then? That must be why you’re wearing Mr Ben’s clothes. I daresay he’d give his latest Porsche to see you half dressed in that.’
Sally followed his eyes as they skirted down her body. The jumper was rucked up untidily round her hips and the damp curls of her pubes were clearly visible. She dropped the jeans and kicked them away, pulling feebly at the hem of the sweater. She was too hot. She longed to take it off.
‘I didn’t know it was going to be so cold,’ she said.
‘I’m sure he won’t mind. So you’ve found a whole new way of warming yourself up, and very generous you are to share it with me.’
Sally made a feeble attempt to feign modesty. ‘I wasn’t sharing it with you,’ she protested.
‘You saw me looking through the window, and you carried on poking yourself, bold as brass,’ said Maddock, a big grin on his ruddy face. ‘What man could walk away from that? You even beckoned me in, if I recall.’
Sally was beginning to regret her bold display now she was faced with her audience in the house. ‘I thought I was seeing things when I saw you out there. I’ve had too much wine.’
A smoker’s chuckle rattled from somewhere inside his chest, but his face didn’t alter. ‘Must be good stuff. Mind if I have a snifter of that, then?’
‘Help yourself,’ she said coolly, handing him the bottle. ‘I didn’t know they had Peeping Toms in the country.’ She curled herself on the sofa, and pulled the sweater down over her knees, then looked up at Maddock. He was built like a shit-house.
‘We have all sorts down here.’ He chuckled again. ‘I’d be glad to show you.’
‘One thing at a time, Mr Maddock. Tell me, first. How did you get in?’
‘Not that I needed one, but I have a key.’
‘You could have knocked. Or used the doorbell.’
‘You knew I was coming in,’ he said. ‘I was trying to tell you when I was outside. You invited me, remember?’
He hadn’t blinked once. She kept her eyes on him. She wasn’t going to let him win this staring match.
‘How come you have a key, Mr Maddock?’
‘Maddock. Just Maddock.’
He flung his heavy coat across a chair and stepped in from the kitchen. He had a lumberjack shirt on under the jacket, unbuttoned enough to show a grubby vest, and a wide chest smothered in thick black hair. Sally was determined not to be intimidated by this rustic oaf. The best plan, she decided, was to brazen it out.
‘You can try making yourself at home,’ she said, ‘but, as I said, my friend will be back in a moment.’
Maddock looked immovable and faintly amused. ‘Mr Ben give me the key. I come and go as I please when he’s away.’
‘Well, he’s not away,’ she spluttered. ‘I mean, we’re here, not him.’
‘I’m to keep an eye on the place: maintenance, and the like.’
As if to prove the point he produced a hammer from behind his back and banged it down on the mantelpiece. Sally jumped, but the surprise was followed by a series of thrills up and down her legs.
‘I see you’ve already got the paintbrushes in.’ He gave a dirty laugh.
Sally gripped the brush tighter, and Maddock looked at her, his mouth stretching into a sly grin.
‘Janie’s doing some decorating. That’s what Ben asked her to do. She hasn’t said anything about any maintenance man. Hasn’t said anything about any man, come to think of it.’
‘Good thing I dropped by then, isn’t it?’
‘You think there’s maintenance needs doing here at the moment?’ she asked, her voice going higher with each sentence. ‘Broken shutters, cracked window frames, that sort of thing?’ She unrolled the jumper off her knees and straightened her legs out so they were splayed in front of her on the sofa. The room was baking.
‘I’m to come in every day while he’s away, Ben says. There’s a lot of storm damage to fix, especially up on the roof, and he wants some trees pruning as well.’
Sally felt slightly relieved; at least he sounded like the genuine article. ‘I’m sure there’s lots you could do for us, but it’s too late to do anything about it tonight,’ she said, realising that his presence was making her feel deliciously vulnerable and quite turned on. There was no point being antisocial. ‘Would you like some more wine before you leave?’ she asked. ‘It’s kind of dull here on my own.’
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ Maddock answered. ‘And I wouldn’t say it was dull here, not at all. Just think yourself lucky my lads weren’t peeping with me. I’d have had to cover their eyes. You town strumpets … no shame!’
‘Come on!’ Sally snorted. ‘I bet you have country strumpets as well. You’ll probably be needing a roll in the hay to cool off after what I showed you.’ She absent-mindedly wound the paintbrush through her messy hair.
‘In this weather?’ he scoffed, approaching Sally and standing over her. ‘You must be joking. We’re not that basic. A roll on Mr Ben’s nice dry hearth-rug would be far more welcome.’
Sally took a swig from her own glass. ‘In that case, I wonder how town and country would compare?’
He thumped down on his knees beside Sally and took the paintbrush, shaking it out of her hair. She curled her legs back up again. Her stomach was clenched with excitement. He held the paintbrush up to his face and sniffed it. She could feel the heat beating off him. She would boil if she didn’t rip that jumper off soon.
‘Perhaps we should suck it and see?’ he said.
‘Not sure my friend would like it,’ Sally murmured, glancing out of the window.
Maddock watched Sally from close quarters for a moment or two, and then his mouth began to split into a grin, slowly, as if it was out of practice. One lower front tooth was missing, which made him look to Sally like a pantomime villain. Slowly he leaned across Sally’s body and started to run the paintbrush in circles round her stomach. She lay totally still, but her legs grew slack, and her feet flopped lazily between Maddock’s dirty boots.
‘Maybe your friend’s not getting it,’ he teased.
A wicked laugh bubbled up inside Sally’s throat. ‘But she’ll see us. She’ll be back.’
‘So what. If she’s anything like you, she’ll enjoy the show. I can tell you’re up for it.’
‘I’m always up for it,’ she said, bold as brass.
‘So take the paint brush, and do it.’
‘I’ve had enough of playing with myself,’ Sally whined. Maddock was no oil painting; he was brutish, and looked like a bull about to mount. He was a world away from the pale, besuited men she usually bedded. He looked like he’d grown straight out of the mud. He smelled like it, too. But his blue eyes and his thick fingers wielding that paintbrush, and the slow grin, reduced her to jelly.
‘Tarts like you have never had enough,’ he whispered, too close for comfort. He had the paintbrush in his big fist as if it was a sledgehammer. He leaned closer, and blew into Sally’s hair. She clamped her thighs together and tried to struggle up on her elbows.
‘Now, you look good enough to eat lying there,’ said Maddock. ‘You’re sick of doing it alone, is that it?’
He grinned a bit more, and at last he looked more like a man and less like an oak tree. Sally grinned back, and nodded. She could see that he was used to quelling difficult animals, or felling whole forests. Let him quell her. She was tired of being bold and brazen. She decided to lie back like a lamb to the slaughter. He pushed his sleeves up gigantic forearms and continued to circle the paintbrush over her skin, moving it down towards her pussy, out along her thighs, then back again. Sally’s fingers automatically flew to her golden bush, half covering it, half wanting to reveal it. Maddock peeled her fingers away and pinned her arms out to the sides.
‘I’m not into games,’ he said. ‘Just let me get on with it, woman.’
Sally laughed coarsely, and all at once she seemed to come back to life. ‘OK, Mr Maddock,’ she taunted, trying to free her hands in order to get the paintbrush off him. ‘Show us what you yokels are made of, then.’
Maddock’s grin faded just a tad. ‘If rough’s how you like it, rough’s how you’ll get it.’
Keeping his eyes fixed on Sally, he poked the paintbrush handle towards her cunt and, without further niceties, eased it inside, angling it so that it could reach higher than she had been able to get it. Then he rotated it firmly from side to side, and with every inch that he pushed it Sally gave a breathless gasp.
He continued to work the brush with one hand, and with the other he unzipped his fly. He pulled out his cock, which was almost erect, and circled his fingers round the base of the muscled shaft and ran them up to the knob, then down again. His foreskin wrinkled away from the rounded bulb, and smoothed out over the surface as the blood pumped through. Sally chuckled again. Maddock obviously had no truck with time-wasting.
The farmhand bit his lip as he rapidly handled himself, his sharp face intent on what he was doing, his eyes fixed on the paintbrush. Sally started to frown, afraid that he intended to jerk off right there in front of her. But then she realised it was not wanking that he had in mind; he was getting himself ready for something a whole lot better.
He walked his knees up between Sally’s pale thighs and spread his own legs so that she was virtually doing the splits again on either side of him. Then he slowly withdrew the glistening paintbrush from where its handle had disappeared again into her shadowed hole, and replaced it with the blunt tip of his penis.
The weight of him on her legs filled Sally with renewed energy. She slid her hands under his checked shirt-tails to get at his arse as his muscular buttocks drew back, then inched the stiff length of his dick a little way into her. Her legs came up and wrapped around his hips, trying to pull his groin into hers, but he was stronger, resisting her, always pulling back, totally controlled, tilting his hips slowly back and forth until he was good and ready. At last they were in harmony, like two parts of the same beast, his grizzled head steady above hers. Sally let her head fall back and, as it came to rest on the back of the sofa, she saw the tall shape of Janie standing in the weak light from the hallway.
‘Janie!’ Sally gurgled, her hair bouncing across the sofa as she tried to lift her head.
‘Quiet, woman,’ Maddock growled, though Sally knew he had seen Janie. ‘I won’t be put off my stroke.’
There was a thump and clatter out in the hall. Janie was dropping something heavy onto the floor.
Maddock allowed his hips to increase their speed. Sally tried to twist aside to see Janie, but she couldn’t alter his rhythm and her friend became obscured by the back of the sofa. Now her legs had no choice but to grip tighter and tighter round his thick torso as his meaty cock filled her. She blocked out Janie and anything else that threatened to distract her from what he was doing.
Maddock was evidently as strong as one of his own oxen. Muscles she never knew existed rippled and flexed constantly in his arms, his neck, his thighs. Then suddenly he shifted his position, and sat back on his buttocks. He spread his hands around Sally’s hips and flipped her up towards him so that her back was towards the hallway. They sat upright now on the floor, face to face, Sally straddling his knees with her legs still wrapped around his waist. This way his cock was angled right into the small of her back, filling every nook and cranny, as Janie had put it. They paused for a moment, panting into each other’s faces, taunting each other to see who would move first, testing themselves to see who would crack and give in to the mounting excitement. Sally was acutely aware of Janie’s eyes boring into her back; she hadn’t heard her turn and go. She wondered if Maddock would stop.
But then he pulled his haunches back and, like a double act, Sally copied him. He gave a rising yell and she squealed in answer, and then they slammed their hips into each other, pulling back, arching, slamming back so that they shuddered with the impact of bone on bone. They ground against each other one last time, her body filled with his solid maleness. He started to give an unearthly low groan and Sally screeched triumphantly, feeling his body tense up. She bounced her butt across his legs, tightening her muscles round his cock and her legs round his waist until his face grew dark with the effort of holding on. He was obviously coming, his cock pumping into her, his eyes still blazing, never closing, watching Sally as she bounced and arched herself away from him. She took in every last inch of him before she swore she could feel his spunk shooting inside her, and she allowed her own climax to shatter. Finally she let herself fall back onto the floor as a stifled roar escaped Maddock’s lips and he released her with a crash. They tumbled apart from each other, both falling onto their backs, chests heaving as they submitted to their joint climax. She leaned up to look at his penis; it was still huge and thick across his leg. She watched until it stopped flexing and spurting, and until her own inner quivering had ceased.
‘I’m sorry for intruding.’ Janie’s voice cut into the silence.
They both turned their heads to look at her, too breathless to speak. Janie started to back out of the room, kicking over the logs that she had dropped in the hallway.
Maddock rolled over and sprang straight up from a crouch like an acrobat. ‘Here, give me those.’
He stepped over Sally, his manhood still half-erect. He squatted down beside Janie, picked the logs off the floor, and came back to throw them into the fireplace. Janie just stood there, staring at his bare muscled buttocks, shockingly white above the tanned legs. He stacked the spare logs in the basket beside the grate. Then he grabbed the newspaper Sally had been reading and started ripping the pages and scrumpling them up to make kindling.
Janie and Sally continued to stare at him for a moment, then glared at each other. He was not a man of modesty. Sally shook her hair out of her eyes and shrugged. Janie looked livid. To be fair, even someone less uptight would have been pretty shocked to come home and see the pair of them rutting on the floor like that, thought Sally. She sat up and crossed her legs beneath her. She didn’t know what to say.
Janie spoke first. ‘I saw everything.’
Maddock struck a match and held it to the newspaper, which started to smoke into life. He turned round then and looked Janie up and down, kicking off his filthy boots and removing his shirt as he did so.
‘At last, a real fire,’ murmured Sally, unwilling to address Janie directly and unable to take her eyes off the stocky Maddock, especially now he had demonstrated some other useful caveman skills. ‘That’s what he’s come here for, you see,’ Sally ventured. ‘Maintenance. He’s here to keep an eye on the cottage.’
‘And everyone in it, by the look of things,’ Janie replied.
‘So, did you enjoy watching us, miss?’ Maddock asked, for all the world as if he was referring to a display of country dancing.
He squatted down behind Sally and ran his huge hand round to her stomach. Sally’s knees twitched together.
Janie said nothing, but her cheeks were flushed. She took Ben’s over-sized raincoat off and shook the drops off it before hanging it up.
Sally was tense. It was like waiting for a telling off by the headmistress. Janie came back into the room, twisting her wet hair into a knot at the back of her head, then gripped the sofa.
‘What are you doing here, Maddock?’ she asked, sounding uncharacteristically fierce.
‘Evening to you, miss. It’s like your friend just said, Mr Ben has asked me to keep an eye on the place. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you. There’s a lot of work to be done, inside as well as out.’
‘Mostly inside,’ spluttered Sally, still hugging herself on the floor.
‘I know that. That’s why I’m here,’ said Janie. ‘But we don’t need you working on the house at the moment. We’re supposed to be having a quiet break here.’
‘But there’s work that needs doing constantly,’ said Maddock in defence.
‘You can say that again.’ Sally chortled, and leaned against his chest. ‘Especially after hours. But seriously, Janie, he could help you. You said you thought the decorating was more than you could do on your own.’
‘Not while we’re staying here, thank you, Maddock. It can wait.’
‘You’re beginning to sound like Margot in The Good Life, Janie!’ spluttered Sally, irritation taking over from awkwardness. ‘Honestly! Can’t you see he’s only here to … to help?’
Sally flipped her chin at Janie to mock, then smiled back towards Maddock. But he was still looking at Janie, and Janie was looking at Sally as if she would like to slap her. To Sally’s annoyance, Maddock got up suddenly so that she nearly toppled backwards. He took a couple of muddy steps towards the sofa and glared at Janie. Sally thought Janie looked suddenly beautiful, standing there flushed with anger, her eyes glittering, and her lips parted as if to spit.
‘No need to treat me like an intruder,’ said Maddock, sounding hurt. ‘You and your cousin were the ones who trod all over my dad’s corn year after year. We should have taken the shotguns to you back then.’
‘I’m not treating you like an intruder. At least, I don’t mean to. I just meant that we don’t want any maintenance doing while we’re staying here. We want to be left alone. My friend here, she’s –’
‘A nymphomaniac? I know.’ He gave one of his dirty laughs.
‘– stressed. And right now, so am I. Anyway, haven’t you got enough work to do up at the farm? For the new owner?’
‘How do you know about him? He’s only just got here.’
‘I met him just now.’ Janie’s face went bright red, and she picked at some loose threads in the sofa cover. Sally started to kneel up, anxious to get the conversation back to her and Maddock.
‘So you’ll know he hasn’t a clue about any of it. The farm is none of your concern, miss. Not really his concern, either. Bloody weekenders.’
‘Well, isn’t our Ben a weekender as well? But you get along fine with him.’
‘Mr Ben could charm the pants off a duchess,’ said Maddock. ‘Frequently does, so I’m told.’
‘Oh, when am I going to meet this guy?’ wondered Sally. But they ignored her.
‘And his family have owned this cottage for decades,’ said Janie. ‘Since before you were a … a tadpole, Maddock.’
Maddock and Sally laughed at her, and Janie flushed again.
‘That’s why His Lordship up at the farm can wait for his renovation work to be done,’ Maddock said, turning one of the logs on the fire.
‘Whatever. I don’t want to argue.’
‘I asked you a question earlier,’ Maddock continued. He was right beside Janie now, and Sally folded her arms crossly around her knees. They both seemed to have forgotten her.
‘And I would like to ask you a question,’ said Janie. ‘When would you like to leave? Right now or in one minute’s time.’
‘My question was, did you enjoy watching us?’
‘A bit difficult to avoid watching, seeing as how you just strolled in here and started shagging my friend right here on the floor.’ Janie still had one foot in the hall, as if she was contemplating her escape. ‘Now, I really don’t want to hold you up any longer. Don’t you have to be somewhere?’
‘His Lordship and the lads can get the pints in,’ said Maddock. ‘I still want to know … did you enjoy it? Looks like something’s flicked your switch.’
‘Yeah, don’t pretend to be so uptight, Janie,’ goaded Sally, crawling on her knees towards the sofa and climbing up. ‘Admit it, you were turned on just then, weren’t you? Sex in the sitting room on a rainy night with a bit of rough. What could be a better way to pass the time?’
Maddock kept his eyes on Janie, unflinching at Sally’s description of him. ‘And that was just the warm up,’ he said. Then he suddenly yanked the big jumper off Sally, tugging her T-shirt with it. She giggled. Her slim torso was the same milky white as her legs, and her breasts tipped out of her tiny T-shirt as Maddock removed it. She knew her tits were pert and sweet, very different from Janie’s large round ones. Sally glanced down at her own body then smirked proudly round at Maddock. He didn’t return her look, but still stared past her at Janie. Sally followed his line of vision, and saw that Janie’s shirt was damp, and the sharp points of her nipples poked through the material.
‘Come over here by the fire, Janie,’ urged Sally, stretching out her hand. ‘It’s lovely and warm now.’
Janie edged round the corner of the sofa. She grabbed Sally’s abandoned glass of wine and took a deep slug.
‘Maddock, who is he? The man who’s bought the farm?’ Janie asked suddenly, sounding civil for a moment. ‘The man you’re working for?’
‘Some bloke. A doctor or something. I call him His Lordship because he’s taken over my dad’s farm and it’s going to take some getting used to.’
‘Oh boring, boring,’ whined Sally, hopping off the sofa. She skipped into the kitchen, letting her tits bounce up and down, and found some candles and matches. She lit them, and turned the sitting room lights off.
‘What are you doing, Sally?’ Janie sounded nervous.
‘Making us more comfortable.’ Sally pulled a pile of cushions onto the floor in front of the fire. ‘We don’t want to talk about business! I think it’s time we concentrated a little on you, Janie, since you’re feeling left out of the action.’
Sally pounced on her friend, pulling her away from the sofa and onto the cushions. Maddock moved up from the fireside to join them, and twisted Janie’s chin towards him.
‘I agree. I think you should try a little bit of what’s good for you,’ he said to her. He nudged at Sally, who frowned for a moment then rolled away across the cushions and put on another CD, this time of a woman singing low, mournful songs.
‘Wimpy music, this is,’ said Maddock. ‘Oh, well, bit of atmosphere, I suppose.’
His face remained very close to Janie’s and Sally saw her friend recoil slightly, as she had done herself when she’d first clocked the surly face and the tiny red veins in his skin. She realised that some of the marks were scratches and scars. She didn’t like him staring at Janie like that. Maddock’s hard blue eyes were like glass, as they flicked over her features. He raised his other hand and Janie flinched sideways. He sniggered, and held her chin tight so that she had no choice but to return his hard glare.
‘Do you posh bitches really think all we farm hands do is fuck and clobber each other?’ he hissed, lowering his hand so that his fingertips travelled over Janie’s reddening cheeks and down her throat. He nodded slowly, winking over her head at Sally.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Janie replied, raising her eyebrows in an attempt to appear relaxed, even though the action actually made her look more snooty.
‘Right then,’ he nodded. ‘I think your little friend here wants to have some more fun. I’m sure Mr Ben wouldn’t object if we got up to no good in his house.’
‘He’d probably approve!’ chimed in Sally.
‘I don’t want him to know,’ Janie protested.
‘By the way, we farm hands do like to fuck,’ interrupted Maddock. ‘And we’re not always fussy who it’s with so long as it goes like a truck.’
‘You pig!’ spat Sally.
‘In fact, the lads will be green when I tell them what I found in Master Ben’s cottage. Certainly helps if the birds have got good bodies too,’ he continued softly. ‘Especially plump, ripe ones like yours, Janie. You look like you don’t screw nearly enough. Now’s your chance.’
Sally sniggered loudly, to remind them that she was still there. Janie raised her hands to try to push Maddock off, but he chuckled and held her face again. Sally saw Janie’s tits squashed up against his chest. He drew back and peered down at them, then he glanced across at Sally, who was still topless.
‘Tell your friend to relax,’ he told her.
‘Come on, Janie. Relax, we know him. He’s nice. He’ll make you feel good.’
Maddock nodded at Janie, then released his grip on her face and had the linen shirt off and over her head before she could take a breath.
Now her breasts were nearly bare, her flimsy bra only just covering them, as they threatened to escape out of the top. The material stretched taut over the swollen mounds. Maddock slid his hand over the smooth curve of her breast. Janie bit her lip, and Sally’s own nipples contracted at the sight of Maddock barely touching Janie yet making her stand quietly in front of him while he undressed her.
‘You could join in, if you like. Don’t want you sulking over there.’ Maddock was reading Sally’s mind. ‘I’m sure you’d fancy a threesome.’
‘I love threesomes. Just not with my friend,’ Sally snapped, and Janie glanced across at her as well, as if seeing her for the first time. There was something strange about Janie. Her hair and clothes were messed up, for one thing, but then she had been running through the rain. It was something else, though. She looked feverish, almost, and had done when she stood at the door watching them. Either the sight of them humping had really turned her on, or shocked her, or she was ill, or something else had excited her or frightened her while she was out.
‘What took you so long, Janie?’ Sally asked loudly.
Janie opened her mouth to speak, but Maddock put his hand over it. ‘Quiet, woman. You’ve had your turn.’
Sally rocked back on her knees. She didn’t mind being bossed around if he was planning to give her one. In fact, she found it a novel kind of foreplay. But she was sure Janie wouldn’t welcome all this macho stuff.
‘Janie?’
But Janie didn’t answer. There were hectic circles of pink in each cheek, and she avoided looking at her friend. Sally didn’t know whether to jump up and kick Maddock out, or stay where she was and watch what he was going to do. But it wasn’t up to her, because he was already doing it. He had Janie pressed hard up against his ribs and then he lifted a hand and planted it squarely over one breast. Then his fingers dived into the hot, damp crevice between her tits and Janie let out a squeal and grabbed onto his shoulders, not to push him away but to keep him there. She was already hooked.
Maddock ogled her breasts greedily. He frowned with concentration as his fingers slowly explored the soft mounds of flesh, cupping them like scoops of ice cream and lifting them out of the bra cups. Sally saw Janie’s nipples begin to burn, berry-red.
‘You like that, don’t you? Stunning boobs,’ Maddock murmured, then ran his tongue across his thin upper lip. ‘Full, just as they should be. Bigger than your little tits, tartlet,’ he said, without much more than a half-nod in Sally’s direction. ‘Look at that. And growing bigger all the time.’
Instead of putting her off, his rasping quiet voice seemed to put Janie into even more of a trance. He was acting differently from the way he had taken control of Sally, but then she’d been ready for him. Janie would take a lot of coaxing, or so Sally reckoned.
Maddock weighed both heavy breasts on the palms of his outstretched hands, just as if he was about to milk them. He bounced them up and down and squeezed them at the sides so that the nipples jutted forward. On impulse, Sally suddenly scrambled up behind Janie and scrabbled at her thin bra-straps, then flung the flimsy underwear to one side. Janie instinctively went to cover her tits, but Maddock grabbed her wrists and held her arms open. Sally hovered for a moment, wondering if Janie was afraid, but to her amazement she saw a smile tilt the corners of her friend’s mouth.
‘Better naked, isn’t it?’ Maddock crooned. ‘We can all see you properly now. Don’t want to stop, do you?’
‘I should, but you know I can’t,’ Janie whispered.
‘In all your glory. Just look at them.’
Maddock pushed Janie’s breasts together hard, flicking one thumb across both nipples as if striking a lighter until they stuck out like bullets. Another stubby finger ran up and down the deep cleavage until it filled with sweat, and Sally saw answering beads of perspiration break out along her friend’s upper lip. Janie pushed against Maddock harder, and dug her nails through his vest as she knelt up. Now her bare breasts were level with his nose and he gave a low whistle.
Sally bobbed up behind Janie again and tugged at her loose trousers. She would assist Maddock in his little game, but she wasn’t prepared to be a spectator for long. She would soon want the limelight back for herself. Janie didn’t resist, but let Sally take off her trousers so that all she wore were her knickers.
Maddock blew across the breasts pressing in front of his nose, still squeezing them together. Sally’s own tits began to set up a low throbbing at the sight. Then his teeth closed round one burning nipple and he sucked hard, drawing the teat outwards with his teeth while he pinched the other hard between finger and thumb. Janie groaned in instant pleasure, and jammed his face between her tits, shifting her knees wider as she did so.
Sally could tell Janie was already fighting the desire that was starting to pulsate inside her and, although she was jealous of the attention Janie was getting, she was fascinated to see her friend in this aroused state.
On impulse she picked up the paintbrush and playfully flicked it under Janie’s bottom, then jumped back as her friend started wildly jerking back and forth, pressing her hard nipples further into Maddock’s mouth. She opened her legs as she knelt there, and as Maddock continued biting her nipples, first one and then the other, Janie started to touch herself with her fingers, rubbing them hard against her newly awakened pussy, tilting her bottom so that her own fingers could give her some relief.
Sally was overcome with curiosity, and flicked the paintbrush in between Janie’s fingers. Janie groaned out loud, and Sally jumped back again, as if she’d been caught stealing. It looked like Janie would soon bring herself off, leaving Maddock’s stiffening rod free for Sally to enjoy a second time.
As if he’d heard Sally’s thoughts, Maddock yanked away from suckling at Janie, leaving her nipples jutting into thin air. Then he lowered Janie down in front of him so that she was on all fours, her butt pressed back into the sofa, and her face now staring into Maddock’s crotch. Sally saw her bite her lip with frustration at the way he had dropped her breasts just when she was starting to lose herself.
Both girls waited for him to speak, but he was silent, just running a finger thoughtfully down his scarred cheek as he reached one hand down to grasp his bollocks. Janie groaned again, completely lost, and lowered her torso to the floor so that her swollen breasts could rub against the rough surface of the cushions.
Maddock stopped moving, as if waiting for something. Janie raised her head from the cushion and his thick penis, erect again, sprang forwards and banged into her face. Sally had an even better look at it this time. It was dark-red with blue veins raised along its short, thick surface, but it was stiff as a fist and standing out at right angles from his toned body. Janie scrambled forwards, grabbing at herself again, but Maddock held her down on all fours. He settled himself on his knees, running his fingers through her sleek copper hair to release it from the knot. Sally saw a couple of stalks of hay drop from it. Maddock prodded the blunt end of his cock into Janie’s cheekbone, then dragged the rounded knob across her face towards her mouth.
Janie’s lips opened as she drew in another breath. Sally wondered if her friend had ever sucked cock before. The first time was always something of an eye-opener, to say the least, and what a dick this was to practice on.
Sally reckoned Janie didn’t know what to do, because she tried once more to get up on her knees, and rise up to the level of his face. Sally saw Maddock frown, and she leaped forward from her ringside seat and pinned Janie’s hips down to keep her in place.
Maddock edged the bulb end of his hard shaft towards Janie’s mouth and the plum-coloured tip slipped smoothly between her parted lips. She tried to swallow, but in doing so she touched the moist tip of Maddock’s cock with her tongue and it jumped between her teeth, and probed deeper towards her throat.
Janie mirrored the action of his cock in her mouth with her own fingers, probing and pushing as many as she could into her gaping pussy. I’d never do it in front of anyone else, she’d said. Sally’s skin felt hot and cold.
‘Aren’t you going to help her?’ Maddock murmured suddenly, looking across Janie’s head at where Sally was sitting close behind her. ‘Look at that lovely pussy just aching to be licked out. I can’t be in two places at once.’
Sally couldn’t do it. For all her experience she had never gone down on a mate before, and she wasn’t going to start now. She reckoned she owed it to Janie to leave her to it. She shook her head and crawled back towards the fireplace, but Maddock was no longer looking at her.
Janie opened her jaw wider over Maddock’s still-stiffening penis, then closed her lips tight around it and started to suck. His penis seemed to be filling her whole mouth, punching out her cheeks. Maddock held her head and guided it back and forth slowly along the length of his shaft. Janie had got the hang of it. She nipped the taut, engorged muscle again with her teeth and he let out a groan. He spread his legs, tensing his meaty buttocks to aim at an even better angle.
With every move of Janie’s mouth along his shaft, her fingers travelled deeper inside her. Sally wondered whether to go to work on her friend with the paintbrush; it wouldn’t be the same as finger fucking her, but she couldn’t move, enthralled and appalled by the experience of watching, and in any case they were both managing perfectly well without her.
Janie lifted one hand and cupped Maddock’s swinging balls, and increased the tempo of her lips and tongue. She tickled the balls as they banged softly against her chin, then squeezed them hard, and suddenly Sally saw them retract into his groin as he plunged his cock further down Janie’s throat, pushing through her teeth so that she made her jaws go slack again to accommodate his size.
He held her face between his hands, covering her ears and, as their movements became more and more frantic, Sally was aware of new, strong spasms clenching and unclenching deep inside her as she watched.
Maddock jerked back and forth, grunting lewdly, and nearly knocking Janie backwards with his two final thrusts. His fingers twined through her hair as he pumped his juices into her mouth and Sally knew she was tasting for the first time the sweet salt of his thick spunk. She mentally applauded Janie for swallowing so carefully – always a point-scorer. Before he had finished, Maddock tugged Janie’s head away, his still-rigid cock emerging from her mouth like it had from Sally’s own cunt, wet with saliva and spunk and jerking with the aftershocks of his climax.
Sally’s mouth fell open. She grabbed her own pussy, which was convulsing frantically as she started to come. She watched Janie’s fingers being gripped and swallowed as she ground them up inside her and at last Sally’s own excitement collided with the astonishment of where she was and what she was doing. She gave a low, jagged moan as her own long-awaited climax rippled through her.
Meanwhile Janie arched her back, stiffening like a cat on all fours to seize the moment, shivering as her own moans were forced out of her. Then she fell slowly forwards onto the cushions.
Maddock started to clap his hands, breaking the mood, and Sally joined in. Janie remained lying on her front.
‘Janie? Are you alright?’ Sally hissed, reaching over to tap her friend on the shoulder.
Janie rolled over reluctantly and made a grab for her shirt. ‘Of course I am.’
‘Thank you for your hospitality. Mr Ben would be proud,’ Maddock said, yawning and picking up his clothes. Janie and Sally watched him in silence.
‘I told you, I don’t want Mr Ben knowing anything about this. Any of it,’ Janie said. She had gone back into headmistress mode, sitting up slowly and sliding her arms into her shirt sleeves.
Maddock wiped a hand across his mouth and coughed. ‘He likes me to report all goings on at the cottage. You never know what riff raff might try to break in.’
Sally laughed at that. ‘He’ll be wishing he was here, not in boring old Amsterdam,’ she said.
Janie said nothing, but looked out of the window at the darkness. It had finally stopped raining. In the sitting room there was no sound apart from the crackle of the logs in the grate. Maddock picked up his jacket and stood up. He tugged at his forelock.
‘So, ladies, I hope you were pleased with the service. And now I must be off.’
‘Hey, not so fast, matey,’ said Sally. ‘We might not be finished with you!’ She scrambled to her feet and followed Maddock through the kitchen. He pulled on his smelly jacket and stuffed the peaked cap back on to his head. Suddenly he was just a passing farmhand again, not a raging sex machine. His blue eyes flickered over Sally as if he’d never seen her before.
‘Got to make my report, haven’t I? About town versus country, remember?’
‘Town wins hands down,’ Sally started to argue, but he was gone, slamming the back door behind him. The wind managed to deposit a quick blast of cold air in her face, and Sally scampered back into the sitting room to huddle by the fire.
‘What the bloody hell were you playing at?’ Janie exploded, buttoning up her red shirt. ‘The pair of you, making free in Ben’s house. This’ll be all round the village by morning!’
‘He came snooping round the garden, and saw me here on my own. I was horny, and bored. And what about you? I didn’t see you fighting him off!’
Janie was silent, curling herself into the corner of the sofa and staring into the fire.
‘You don’t fight off people like Maddock.’
‘Why? Has that happened before?’
‘No.’ The anger went out of Janie, and she looked up at Sally. ‘Not with Maddock. Not with anyone. I’ve never done that before.’
‘What? Sucked cock?’
Janie blushed and wriggled in her seat. ‘None of it. I’ve never done that, and I’ve never done it in front of someone else. At least, not until today.’
Sally came to sit beside Janie, and tugged roughly at her arm. ‘You should have warned me about the wildlife around here. I wonder if there’s more where that Maddock came from?’
‘Very likely. All lurking in the hedgerows, peering in through the windows, right now, laughing their heads off.’
‘So much the better. You can forget your man-free zone, doll. I think we’re going to find there are more macho bumpkins with more sex drive and more swinging dicks round here than we can shake a stick at!’
Janie got up to pull the curtains, and just caught sight of the tail lights of Maddock’s Land Rover bumping up to the road.
‘There he goes, on his way to the pub to meet with Farmer Giles.’
‘Who?’ called Sally, pulling on her jeans at last.
‘They’ll be exchanging notes about the London bints who are staying at the cottage.’
‘Good. Let them. Because they ain’t seen nothing yet. By the way,’ yawned Sally, kicking the cushions to one side and walking into the kitchen to peer into the fridge for some food, ‘why have you got straw in your hair?’
* * *
‘Pub’s heaving tonight, isn’t it? Summer rush, I suppose.’
The city gent shoved his way through the crowd of drinkers and addressed his comment to the man already waiting at the bar of the Honey Pot Inn, who didn’t reply.
‘Everything alright, Jack? You’re not your usual debonair self.’ The city type extracted a piece of straw from his friend’s spectacles, and another from his collar. ‘You look like you’ve been through a hedge backwards. Talk about the rustic look!’
Jack roused himself and smiled.
‘Pint, Jonathan? I’m getting them in for the lads, and for Maddock when he gets here.’
The city gent squinted through the haze of smoke towards the corner table.
‘Not interrupting anything, am I? Only –’
‘Not at all. I’ve had enough of ordering them about for one day. It’s a relief to see you, to be honest,’ Jack assured him. ‘Only what?’
‘Only you looked miles away just then. If I had a penny for every thought I’ve dug out of people, I’d be –’
‘Even richer, I’m sure.’ Jack laughed, then the faraway look came back into his eyes. ‘But actually all I was thinking about was marigolds.’
‘Marigolds?’
Jonathan spluttered into his pint. The dark barmaid glided up. She pointedly started to wipe the bar with her cloth, moving her arm slowly back and forth, and Jonathan stopped drinking to watch her.
‘It’s this girl, you see.’ Jack’s voice was virtually impossible to hear above the hubbub. ‘She was nicking logs, up at the farm. I’m sure it’s Janie. Her hair smells of marigolds. It always used to smell of marigolds –’
‘Well, hello.’ Jonathan gave up listening to Jack. ‘New barmaid?’
The woman glared down her fine nose for a moment, then rewarded him with a dazzling, scarlet smile.
‘New to you, perhaps. That’s six pounds fifty please, Jack.’
‘You belong here already, Mimi,’ Jack said, handing over the money. ‘Can’t imagine the Honey Pot Inn without you.’
‘And you’re here for the whole summer, I trust?’ queried Jonathan, eyes now glued to the barmaid’s generous bosom, which was encased in a low-cut black sweater.
‘If anything takes my fancy enough to stay,’ she said, swinging her hips as she scooped up a handful of glasses.
‘Or if any body takes your fancy?’ Jonathan called as she swayed up to the other end of the bar.
‘You want to watch it with her, Jonathan,’ Jack warned. The pub door swung open, and Maddock banged his way through. ‘Someone’s beaten you to it.’
‘Nonsense,’ replied Jonathan, keeping his eyes on Mimi’s neck until she turned round again. ‘No-one ever beats me to anything.’
Jack started to reply to Jonathan’s fighting talk, but was in time to catch the wink passing between Mimi and Jonathan.
‘I have to hand it to you, Dart,’ he laughed, lifting the tin tray loaded with glasses. ‘You have them eating out of your hand, don’t you?’
Jonathan laughed too, taking out a business card scribbled across with his mobile number. He flipped it expertly across the bar so that it landed on the drawer of the till just as she opened it. Mimi took it, and slipped it into her cleavage. Then she swung round the corner of the bar and was gone.
‘How rude of me, ogling the local talent,’ Jonathan said, following through the crowd. ‘You were saying, about the marigolds?’
‘Oi, you two!’ shouted Maddock, and the two men winced. ‘You should check out the crumpet staying at Mr Ben’s cottage! Delicious redhead, cute blonde.’
‘Tell us more, Maddock.’ Jonathan nudged Jack, who shrugged his shoulders and sat down at the table. ‘Do tell us more.’