Past Present (6 page)

Frozen to the spot, Eleanor was shocked, and she felt the drying juice sticky on her skin as Matthew continued speaking.

“We can go a long way together, you and I,” he said. “When we get home, I have a proposition to put to you. We can discuss it properly later if you like. However, just to help you make the right decision now, I will give you a brief overview. I have a substantial inheritance, and I have ideas of how I wish to spend it, none of this is any good to me without someone to share it. The someone I have in mind is you, but I have certain needs which I expect you to fulfil in return. When we get home, I want you to give up work so that we can spend our time together on my new project, on our project. Meanwhile, I have paid young Angelo here to service you for my pleasure, these are my wishes. It is that simple. But, if you aren’t happy to be part of my plans, when we get back to the UK we can go our separate ways. Obviously, I would be terribly disappointed, after all, you have enjoyed our adventures so far, and I assumed that you would be willing to meet most of my requirements in this respect.”

Eleanor responded with the slightest of nods.

“Strip,” Matthew instructed Angelo, “right off, all of it.”

The lad didn’t have to be told twice, he hastily undressed, revealing a lithe, tanned, muscular body, with a larger than usual penis standing proud because he was sporting an enormous erection. His pubic hair, dark and luxurious, matched the thick, shiny curls on his head. In spite of herself, Eleanor found the Italian lad extremely attractive. Although she fancied Matthew, in fact, she wondered if she was falling in love with him, the lad was a brilliant example of supple, pleasing youth. His cock looked enormous, and he was quite a contrast to Matthew whose skin had lost tone somewhat with age. She decided that the young Italian was quite splendid. Struggling to hide her glee, she allowed her wanton nature to bubble fully to the surface now that it had finally been unleashed by servicing Matthew’s demands.

“Go and lie on your back across the middle of the bed, Eleanor, leave everything else to me.” Matthew ordered, handing the lad a condom from the pocket of his gown.

Eleanor reclined, stretching out horizontally on the bed. Matthew knelt at her head, holding her hands above it to immobilise her upper body while Angelo rolled the rubber onto his cock.

“Ride her hard and rough, make her moan,” said Matthew, signalling that Angelo should mount.

Watching Angelo clamber onto her without ceremony, holding Eleanor’s hands effortlessly in one of his, Matthew opened his dressing gown with the other to masturbate. The lad pushed himself hard into her cunt and Eleanor bucked beneath him, wrapping her legs around his waist. Matthew knew that he wouldn’t need to hold her now, she’s a real harlot he thought, delighted that he’d got the measure of her from day one. He’d hold her down anyway because it turned him on.

Angelo thrust into her, grabbing at her breasts, leaning down to push his tongue into her mouth. She turned her head away to avoid kissing him, but he proved himself worthy of every penny of Matthew’s money, pulling her head around, forcing his tongue deep inside her mouth. She could taste cigarettes as it probed against her own, emulating the movement of his cock inside her cunt, the dried juice sticky between them. His chin, covered in fine stubble, scratched the delicate skin of her face and her breasts as he moved downwards, greedily sucking on her nipples.

Matthew rubbed himself ever harder as he felt his orgasm building. Holding Eleanor’s hands, he continued to pump away at his cock while Angelo pounded into her. She had started to moan, gripping her legs around the lad’s waist, raising her arse up off the bed to meet his thrusts. Her fabulous nipples erect from the attention that the lad had given them, betraying the moisture that his warm tongue had left behind. This wasn’t quite what Matthew had planned, she was enjoying the young Italian stud rather too much for his liking, letting go of her hands he stood up.

“Get off,” he barked.

The lad didn’t miss a beat, withdrew his cock, and scrambled off. He knew an order when he heard one.

Matthew had left it too late; his orgasm engulfed him and he shot his load onto Eleanor’s breasts.

“You now. In whatever way you like,” he told the lad, who indicated her mouth.

“Open your mouth for him, Eleanor.”

She got a hand to her cunt to masturbate, opened her mouth, and rubbing her clit, she watched the lad wank until he released an arc of cum aimed between her lips.

“Swallow, sweetheart, there’s a good girl,” said Matthew, who had fetched his camera and was recording the last of the action.

He took close-up shots of the lad’s penis stretching Eleanor’s mouth open. Spunk oozed out of the sides of her lips, with Matthew’s spunk drying on her still erect nipples.

The aftertaste of cum was salty in her mouth, the sides of her lips sore where she had sheathed the enormous cock. Her face stinging from the harsh scratches left by the lad’s stubble, but her cunt was soaked with the aftermath of her orgasm. The Italian’s cock had been massive, and she had enjoyed the feel of it stretching her hole as he pushed up high inside her.

Matthew ordered the lad to dress, showed him to the door, and pressed another pair of fifties into his hand, before hissing a warning about keeping his mouth shut. Agreeing, Angelo pocketed the money with a wide smile.

Closing the door, Matthew went to the bathroom and turned on the taps for a bath. Pouring a generous amount of oil onto water, he called her. She went to him without a word, immersed herself and sinking down, let the oily warmth lap up to her neck.

Eleanor met Matthew’s eyes in silent agreement of his plans as he started to talk.

“We’re going to open a hotel. Not on the scale of this one of course,” he said. “But I’ve bought a manor house in the country. It is to be an exclusive enterprise with just half a dozen guest rooms. Each will be themed. I’ve already discussed the interiors with a designer and an architect. Everything should be ready by the end of the year. You can rent out your house. That way, you’ll have an independent income from the rental. You’ll have no expenditure. I shall take care of everything. Your main obligation is to obey me in all things and to play host with me for themed weekends.”

“What sort of themes?” she smiled.

“Wait and see. We’d best hurry and dress, or we’ll miss the flight.”

Falconworth: Restoration

The heels of Eleanor Grant’s knee-high boots clicked a purposeful tattoo on the tiles of the entrance hall as she made her way towards the rear of the building, hips swaying gently beneath the second skin of a black wool dress. Scores of workmen, tradesmen and builders, paused to watch her progress, a swivel of heads followed in her wake, each mesmerised as she nodded a brief greeting, and her brightest smile. None dared whistle. The politically correct UK had dispensed with builders’ whistle, along with builders’ bum and other so-called unpleasant aspects of previously acceptable workplace antics.

Falconworth Manor, nestled in a clearing, amid fabulous grounds, surrounded by dense ancient woodland, comprising hundreds of trees, some more than six hundred years old, and close to coastal paths, running alongside the ebb and flow of the tide. Eleanor adored the location of the manor Matthew bought prior to their first meeting. Now, in a whirlwind of just a few short weeks, she had resigned her post at the hospital, let her house, and moved with Matthew into lodgings close to the Manor while architects, designers and the rest of the team oversaw the alterations. That morning, the interior designer, was in conference with Matthew, discussing the finishing touches, to achieve their scheduled opening in time for Christmas.

Skilled at multi-tasking, efficient, yet caring, Eleanor had carved out a successful career as a military nurse, perfectly suited to the armed forces, she had a knack for compartmentalising. Although the Royal Air Force had tamed her natural effervescence, the bubbles had risen spectacularly to her surface virtually from first contact with Matthew Fletcher. Her previous life of order and rigid routine had undergone a complete transformation, and now life without Matthew was unimaginable. Amazed and full of wonderment, Eleanor had fallen thoroughly and irrevocably in love with a man old enough to be her father and her intoxication was absolute. Scarcely able to breathe in his presence, a vice-like grip clenched her heart, which contracted with desire when she looked into his startling green eyes.

Matthew Fletcher introduced Eleanor to many activities, previously not even dreamed of, and she had embraced their journey of discovery. Her pussy moistened with anticipation whenever he was near, never knowing quite what to expect, she had abandoned trying to second guess him. So far, Eleanor had risen to the challenge of every trial he devised, astonishing herself in her enjoyment. The encounter with their waiter in Venice had been delightful. Her hot pussy filled to bursting with his hard, thick, thrusting cock while Matthew held her down, her hands tightly secured in his as he watched the help fuck her.

oOo

“Everything is simply unbelievable, honestly.” She confided in her friend, after Venice.

“But leaving work, your home, moving away. Are you sure you are doing the right thing, darling? I warned you about his reputation, aren’t you worried?”

“No, Julie, I’m not, and you shouldn’t worry either. I have never felt so alive, so vital, so adored. I love him. I love him, and he loves me.”

“But you barely know him, for goodness sake, Eleanor, you’ve only just met. Oh I could kick myself for inviting you to that damn tea dance.”

Julie swallowed a slug of wine, unable to hide her concern, knowing that the gossip at the base about Matthew Fletcher was at least half-true.

“Eleanor, darling - listen. Even if only a fraction of what I hear about him is true, you’ll have your work cut out if you become entangled. I can’t help being concerned.”

“Don’t be. Just be happy for me. I know what I’m doing, and I’m looking forward to running the hotel with him. It’ll be fun.”

“But you don’t know anything about the hotel trade.” Bright spots of colour flared on the older woman’s perfectly made-up face.

“I’ll learn, and in the meantime, we’ll hire skilled staff. You will come to our grand opening won’t you?”

“Of course, darling. Wild horses wouldn’t keep me and Bob away from your big night.” Julie’s lips thinned into a straight line. She’d tried her best to warn her friend about Squadron Leader Fletcher (retired), and there was nothing more she could do. “Here’s to the success of your new venture.” Raising her glass, she chinked the rim against Eleanor’s in a toast.

oOo

Matthew Fletcher watched the interior designer put the finishing touches to the drawing, and pack the samples away.

“Goodbye for now, Matthew,” she said, right hand outstretched. “I’ll be back in a day or two with the team. I estimate another two weeks, as long as everything goes to plan.”

“Thank you, Simone, everything appears to be in order. I’m looking forward to completion.” He led the way from the Portacabin, which had been set up in the hotel grounds as a temporary office while alterations and refurbishment were underway.

Matthew’s cock stirred when the young woman climbed into the low car, roof down in spite of the chill of the day. Contemplating what it would be like to bend her over the bonnet and fuck her hard from behind, pulsed a surge of blood to his cock. “
I’ll wait until she’s finished the job first
,” he vowed, as the top of the range car purred through the gates dominating the end of the sweeping drive.

Returning to the office, he checked his watch, tidied his papers away, stepped outside again, locked the door, and went in search of Eleanor. He needed her now. Right now, on her knees with his cock in her mouth. He intended to remedy the ache in his balls no matter that the workmen were still on site. He’d find her now, and he’d fuck her now, although his erection threatened his ability to walk a straight line. Leaving the cacophony of the main hall behind him, Matthew headed towards the relative peace and quiet of the east wing.

oOo

“Down here,” called Eleanor, her voice muffled by thick walls, but travelling up towards him via the worn flight of stone stairs leading to the cellar from the kitchens. The underground store was the only room that had remained untouched during alterations. Racks for wine, Champagne, and other bottles lined the walls. Areas were earmarked for barrels of sherry, port, beer, and cider. The ceilings bristled with appropriate modern lighting and recesses held sconces, which had been in place since completion of Falconworth Manor in the sixteenth century. The alterations commissioned by Matthew had cost a fortune, all in keeping with the status of the listed building, complying with every requirement set out. The result would be impressive, all being finished when the grounds had been sympathetically restored.

The medieval structure had been in poor repair when Matthew came to the rescue, but the interior had been transported to the future, without compromising the outer fabric and other original features. The result promised to be astounding, cleverly incorporating modern facilities while retaining the ancient atmosphere.

Using carefully sourced materials for the fabric of the building, and proud of their accomplishment, Matthew’s wealth had allowed an indulgent, harmonious refit of Falconworth. Materials were costly, and value added tax had to be paid on everything used in the restoration of listed buildings. Matthew and Eleanor thought it disgraceful that relief wasn’t granted for projects that brought neglected ancient properties back into full use.

“Busy?” Matthew’s gaze fixed on his girl standing beside the oak table occupying the centre of the room. Enraptured from the moment of their first meeting, his jaded palate refreshed, he allowed the familiar fizz to settle around them, eyes duelling in mutual admiration.

“No.” Her slow smile hastened his heartbeat. “I was just absorbing the atmosphere. I can hardly believe we’re here. It’s so exciting, there’s an aroma down here that’s heady as if spilled wine and intoxicating liquor has permeated the stone of the walls, seeping and settling for hundreds of years.”