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It was winter before Fiona felt it was time; time to move on, time to leave the cocoon of warmth, friendship, and casual sexuality that defined her time with Meg and Bill.
The hill climbing, and forestry work, had transformed Fiona’s body… always fit in an endurance sense, Fiona had gained an incredible amount of muscle on her upper body. Her shoulders, neck, and arms had well-defined, if not massive, muscle; Fiona’s chest was thicker and deeper. Her capacity for aerobic endurance had retained its natural impressiveness; but now, she had gained an immense ability to add bursts of speed and power.
Fiona now carried at least ten more pounds on her once petite frame; very little of it was fat, despite eating more meat in the last few months, than she had in any one year of her previous life.
Her time with Meg in the forest, forest bathing; and with Bill, summiting many peaks–taught Fiona patience. Her victories would be like the victory of soft water over hard rock, inevitable; but, rarely perceived in the short term.
If it were springtime, or even fall, she would have preferred to leave on a bike; but, the weather was too chancy for trusting her life to the safety of a bicycle on New England roads in winter. Instead, she called another internet friend; actually, the person who introduced her to Bill… Joe.
Joe was leading a somewhat dishonest life, in that his online sex chats and friends were unknown to… his wife; but, he had another reason for driving north, and besides, Bill’s place was only an hour from his house.
Where Bill was short, tanned, and an outdoor guy; Joe, a retired librarian, was tall and had an indoor pallor. The lone similarity to Bill, was his beard. Fiona had surmised that they were once lovers, and maybe, still; although, as far as she could tell, they both preferred women.
Instead of a pickup truck like Bill’s, Joe drove a Prius. So he needed to be careful parking in Meg’s uneven yard.
Bill was enthusiastically restrained in introducing Joe to Fiona and Meg. Did he think that their true relationship was a secret?
Well Fiona thought, it does not matter. I am starting a new life… a new part of my new life. Bill and Meg are wonderful; but, I need to move on from rural Vermont.
And moving on from rural Vermont, meant going south… into Massachusetts.
People from other states, particularly those in the west, joke about how ‘tiny state people’ treat distance… and it was true–an hour’s drive is an arduous journey.
That hour drive in the Prius, Joe was driving with a silly grin on his face. Finally seeing that Fiona was no mythical being… no ‘catfish’–she was, indeed, as she had presented herself online.
A young, athletic, smart professional woman, somewhat shy in person; belying her somewhat salacious personality online.
On the drive south, Joe was going over what together they had planned for the next few days. First, Fiona would stay with a friend of Joe’s in Hatfield. It was, in fact, a dairy farm and the housing was a 17th century farmhouse.
Lucinda W. and her husband, Darryl, owned the farm. It had been in Darryl’s family since 1655.
Lucinda was the first to greet them, saying with a straight face, “Well Joe, who is this young girl you have gotten in trouble with?”
Fiona blushed. Joe and Lucinda had known each other for decades, and if not the closest of friends, they knew a lot about each other.
Joe grinned broadly, as one does to a person blatantly pulling your leg. “You know I have been with just one woman my entire adult life; and besides, Fi is not into guys.”
“Really?” Lucinda arched an eyebrow. “That makes her safe around Darryl, too. Not that Darryl is known for his roving eye; as far as I know, he has not been with another woman since we got married 35 years ago. Before that, well… I have my suspicions.”
Fiona was overwhelmed by the personal details she was getting in the first few moments knowing this woman. She sized her up quickly: five foot four, short purple-tinted hair, a freckled complexion, her head tilted to one side as a raptor assesses its prey. She was in her ‘at home ready for anything clothes’, jeans tightly fitted over broad hips, a sweatshirt that hinted at covering larger than average breasts, and muck boots on her feet.
As Lucinda led them into the house, she marched with the air of one who not only owned, but ran the property.
“Fiona, we usually have a full house, Darryl and I have the master bedroom upstairs and two of our grown daughters have nearby rooms; what we have for you is, our little guest room. It was a pantry when the house was first built; but when we renovated the kitchen twenty years ago, we didn’t need a pantry any more. So we recycled one of the girls’ beds from their teen years into that space. It still has preteen princess pink paint on the headboard, but the mattress is newish and the sheets have been freshly laundered. I have an old Hudson’s Bay blanket at the foot of the bed if you need it, but you are kocaeli escort very near the main wood stove downstairs; if you keep your door open a little, you will be comfortably warm.”
It was late in the day, when Joe and Fiona had arrived at the farm. They had stopped to eat in Burlington, so as not to arrive at the farm during dinner. Joe’s reasoning was this would delay the third degree Fiona would undoubtedly undergo until breakfast.
“Thank you so much, Lucinda; this is most generous of you.”
“No problem, Fi. I’d stay up and chat, but both Darryl and I have to be up early, with the cows (dairy farmer joke). You’ll see him at breakfast if you’re up early. Right now, he is soaking in the tub; and I get my soak as soon as the water heater catches up with what he has used. If we don’t see you at breakfast, feel free to make whatever you like for yourself. Otherwise, you can wander around and explore the place I have to leave for the library by 9:00am, and I have a meeting at 10:00am. Oh, and the only bathroom is upstairs… we are pretty informal, so the door is open even if someone is using it. During the day, Darryl uses the one in the cow barn.”
“Well that is fine, I think I am all set. I used the bathroom in the restaurant; I’ll just need to brush my teeth later.”
“Okay, don’t be shy, you can do that while I’m taking my bath… I am covered in bubbles, anyway.”
Fiona spent the next hour settling in; nothing needed to be unpacked, and she did not plan on staying long. She laid out clothes for the next day; she hoped she could rinse out her panties in the morning, she had given up wearing a bra. In deference to the cooler weather, she wore a size small men’s undershirt, which fit tightly over her muscular chest and prominent nipples.
Fiona’s panties were white and somewhat thread bare, since the incident in the cabin weeks… or was it MONTHS? ago, she had not trimmed her public hair. So, instead of a well-manicured ‘landing strip’; a dark, dense triangle showed at her crotch.
Lucinda had assured her that Darryl would be in bed right after his bath, and the two daughters, who lived in the old farmhouse, were on night shift as nurses at a local hospital. Fiona felt secure in traipsing about the house in her underwear; especially, since the wood stove kept the area near her room so toasty.
The warmth did not extend to the upper floor, as Fiona ascended the well-worn stair treads to the second floor, the temperature seemed to drop a degree with each step. The second floor hallway windows were old wooden double hung windows with no storms; they let in lots of fresh air, and this night was not particularly windy.
The bathroom, however, was steamy. Two consecutive tubs full of hot water made it practically tropical compared to the rest of the second floor. And the water still flowed, as Lucinda continued her wintertime soaking ritual. The door to the bathroom was ajar and Fiona could hear the steady flow. She could also hear a rhythmic splashing, as if the tub water was slowly sloshing back and forth. Through the slightly open door, Fiona checked out the scene. A very large very old claw foot tub drew her gaze… with just of the top Lucinda’s head visible, and Lucinda’s legs obscenely draped over the edge of the tub near the faucet.
Fiona waited until she was sure that Lucinda had ‘finished’, and then entered the bathroom.
Lucinda’s face betrayed not a trace of what activity she had been engaged in mere seconds before. Sex, whether intercourse with her husband (and ONLY her husband) or masturbation were parts of human nature; something she needed to do, like eating. And while she enjoyed eating, once she was done satisfying her hunger, she moved on to other things. She had her orgasm… now, it’s time to finish the bath and get ready for bed.
And so she did as Fiona was brushing her teeth. With no trace of modesty, Lucinda rose from the tub, quickly towelled herself dry, and bent over to drain the tub; revealing to Fiona, her wide ass cheeks and heavy lipped, hairy pussy. Fiona found the sight of a fifty-something woman’s hot pink bottom, both amusing and arousing. Lucinda then knelt on the bathroom floor to clean the tub after her soak. Fiona felt so naughty watching her… Lucinda, obviously, had no idea another woman could be turned on by her naked body. Lucinda lived in a world where sexuality was defined by her experience. She had lesbian friends; but still, her mind was not flexible enough to realize that at her age and relatively good state of fitness, she was a cougar for young dykes.
For her age and the size of her tits, her boobs were fairly firm; nevertheless, they swayed back and forth as she cleaned the tub, putting in Fiona’s mind, the image of Meg above her in bed. Hmmm, what would it be like to suckle on this mother’s or grandmother’s tits.
Oh my god, a grandmother, she thought to herself. Fiona had never been attracted to grandmothers before. In truth, Meg was the oldest woman she was ever attracted to, and Meg was kocaeli escort bayan maybe a decade younger than Lucinda.
Lucinda turned to get her robe which was hanging next to where Fiona was brushing her teeth. She reached for her robe, with a matter of fact, “Excuse me.” Fiona could see that Lucinda’s tits were very impressive, light brown circles around medium size nipples; a round, soft belly; but strong legs and arms from farm chores. And her pussy was magnificent; a dark, thick bush sprinkled with silver, with prominent pussy lips, and a large clit that was quite visible.
Lucinda left the room and Fiona sat down for an overdue pee. After she finished, she fingered her pussy, savoring the vision of the naked, older lady. This was all new to her, as Meg had never had these fantasies with older women… occasional far out rape fantasies with older men–and where had THAT led her. The comfort and safety of a mother figure, or even a grandmother, was now VERY attractive. Her cunt was already dripping; indeed, she hoped that Lucinda had not seen how wet her panties were. Since the incident at the cabin, and the subsequent healing, Fiona was able to easily insert up to two of her small fingers into her cunt; she was DAMN sure, she never wanted another COCK in side of her. But finger fucking her cunt was incredibly pleasurable. It may have been the novelty of the thing; but now, she quickly exploded in a mind-blowing orgasm. She had lost all sense of caution, and was perhaps a little too vocal in a stranger’s house.
But her moaning drew no response.
Sighing in relief and embarrassment, she made her way back to her room, shivering all the way; still clad only in a T-shirt, and now VERY damp panties.
But she had been observed. Darryl had been outside the bathroom. He had been about to knock, a courtesy rarely observed in a family home where they were all used to each other’s bodies and so straight-laced, that they never considered another family member sexually desirable; unless, of course, you were married to them.
Back in her room, still warm because of its proximity to the now dying wood fire, Fiona discarded her damp panties; but, retained the shirt and put herself under Lucinda’s freshly laundered sheets. The pillows were polyester, but plenty comfortable for Fiona. Sleep came quickly and at an hour far earlier than she would have considered mere months ago.
She did not dream. It was something she was very sure of, this was real… and yet, it was unreal. Fiona was wide awake, it must have been after midnight. With Meg and Bill, Fiona had no need of clocks, she slept at night and woke by daylight. She had a sense that she had been asleep almost half the night, so midnight or soon after.
Someone entered her room. She was not frightened; somehow, she KNEW not to be frightened.
A figure in a nightgown entered her room.
Was it male or female?
A long sleeved almost ankle length gown, almost to the floor.
Soon, another silently entered… they kissed.
Fiona sensed that they were being stealthy; each whispering almost silent endearments.
Her room had but one window, facing the barnyard; there were no shades nor blinds.
As if on schedule, the moon shone through the window, casting a pale light on the figures. One was definitely taller than the other, but they were both slightly built. As they turned in their embrace, Fiona could see one was female, with her long hair put up on top of her head for the night under a nightcap. With a start, she realized that the other figure, a male, she assumed, also wore a night cap–long and conical with a tassel at its end.
Who wears a night cap these days? Fiona thought, and with surprise, she repeated to herself… THESE DAYS!!!
The two lovers, for as clandestine as they were, they WERE lovers. The kissing grew more passionate, their hands explored each other’s bodies over their bedclothes. The male was particularly paying attention to the female’s ample breasts, that he cupped thru through the linen of her night dress.
She more shyly rested her hands on his buttocks, drawing him closer to her. So rapt they were in each other, that they were oblivious of Fiona’s presence…
“Oh Jenny, if only there were a bed in here…”
Did she hear that right… Did Fiona imagine it?
They were not here… a least not NOW. The moonlight clearly illuminated the bed and its stark white sheets. These lovers were from a time when there was no bed in this room…
“The store room by the kitchen!!”
With the family asleep upstairs, these two–who were they? and why did they meet like this?–could only meet in darkness, in the middle of the night…
Their breathing became more fevered, their touching grew more and more intimate, although still through their bedclothes; until, the female reached her crisis point–and by the sound of it, for the first time…
“Oh brother… I have heard the poets speak of dying for love… I feel I kocaeli escort am dying right now!”
With those words, she embraced him and he her, ever more tightly because they feared she would fall faint on the floor.
“Darling, Jenny,.. my beautiful sister… you do not die!”
(Man who talks like that…wondered Fi…who talks like that today???)
“Oh darling, I, too, spend! I die, too, for you!”
(What the fuck…is he cumming in his night gown…Fi remained silent…but intuitively she knew she could not enter their realm least not alive.
“What if we are caught?”
“We leave this place separately. I needed to use the outhouse, it was just by chance I had to wait, while you used it first.”
“Good night, sweet sister.”
“Good night, brother.”
The ardent lovers were cooling to their normal level of proper address, and then, they were gone.
Curiously undisturbed by her midnight guests, Fiona fell back to sleep as though they were never there.
The next morning, Fiona was up at first light, only to find that Lucinda and Darryl were already at their chores. In contrast to the ancient farmhouse, the barn for the cows was largely automated; essentially, the cows decide when they needed milking, food, and water, etc.. The humans only needed to manage the equipment; well, not only. Automation cut down on the casual labor the farm needed to hire, but there was always lifting, carrying, cleaning, and chasing down escaped cows.
Fiona made it to the bathroom to rinse out her panties and other necessary things. She sensed that Darryl and Lucinda’s daughters had returned from their night shift at the hospital and were snuggly ensconced in their rooms, asleep.
Fiona helped herself to breakfast in the 1980s-style kitchen. She was ravenous–traveling will do that. Also, she wanted to be well-fueled for exploring the farm.
Darryl and Lucinda returned from the barn, leaving their muck boots, and barn coats in the entryway. This would be time for their real breakfast. Lucinda scrambled a dozen eggs between the two of them, offering some to Fiona, who accepted gratefully.
For the first time, Fiona got to observe Darryl as Lucinda introduced him. She guessed he was a couple of years older than Lucinda from the way Lucinda described their courtship. Barely taller than Lucinda, maybe five foot six, he was clean-shaven with a close cropped head of light brown hair. A lean, compact frame, reminding Fiona of descriptions of cowboys out west, rather than a dairy farmer in New England. Something about the way he moved, indicated a back problem.
Fiona smiled to herself… was she developing Meg’s talent of intuitive diagnosis? And last night? Fiona KNEW she was not dreaming… she saw those people; that brother and sister from a long time ago.
Lucinda’s raptor/mothering instincts noticed Fiona was far away. “You sleep well, Fiona?”
“Oh yes, Lucinda. I was just thinking of something that happened last night.” Damn WHY bring that up? These people don’t know you, they will think you’re crazy.
Oh well, let’s see what happens. “Someone came into my room last night.” YES remain positive NOT “I thought I saw someone come into my room.”
“When was this?”
“You sound very sure.”
“Yes the moonlight was reflecting through the window. I could see them very clearly.”
“I could have warned you… but, the phenomenon is so rare.”
“Yes, it has been years since anyone has seen those two… Jenny and–what’s his name… her brother. None of the family living here now, has ever seen them; and they only appear in the old storeroom.”
“So what is the family lore?”
“The family lore is sketchy… nothing written down. The last one to see them–before you that is–was my maiden aunt, Alice. She was called ‘Em’ for some reason, I forget;. she was the housekeeper for my husband’s grandparents. She was old when I met her, and she told lots of stories about the farmhouse. She only told this story once, and for reasons I don’t understand, she seemed quite embarrassed to tell anything, but the bare fact.”
“The bare fact?” Fiona asked.
“That anything at all happened.”
“Auntie Em only said she had seen two people in bedclothes in the storeroom at midnight. Auntie Em was always one for the late night treat. She did hear one of them called Jenny, and Jenny called the other figure ‘brother’.
“Well, that fits perfectly with what I saw.”
“You saw more didn’t you, Fiona.”
“Well, yes. Do you mind if I speculate?”
“Well, you’d better ask Darryl; these are probably his ancestors.”
“It is fine with me… and remember Lucinda, that old farmhand dad had. He saw things on the farm, too,” replied Darryl.
“Oh yes… Daniel! I always thought his ‘visions’ were alcohol-induced.”
“Now be fair, Lucinda; he was sober when he was at work… well, most of the time.”
Darryl continued, “Well, this might be different than what you experienced, Fiona. He didn’t see dead people; at least, he did not tell those stories. His ability, if that is what it was, to see scenes from the past; something that happened on the farm to people that he knew and that were still alive.”
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