Mornington-By-Mere is
a small country village lying in the Finchbottom Vale nestled between the Ancient
Dancingdean Forest and the rolling Pepperstock Hills.
It is a quaint
picturesque village, a proper chocolate box picturesque idyll, with a Manor
House, 12th Century Church, a Coaching Inn, Windmills, an Old Forge, a
Schoolhouse, a River and a Mere.
But this Christmas
tale is set in the Manor House over Christmas 1962, when the house was full of
the St George clan and their peripheral family and the Molesworth’s fell into
the latter group.
Twenty-six-year-old Tristan Molesworth was the family throwback being 6ft 4 with flaming red hair, this was to be his last
Christmas at the manor and indeed his last in the UK as he was emigrating to
New Zealand in the following spring to run the farm he had inherited from his
great uncle.
On his last day of his
two weeks at the house, he was kept up later than he planned, as the family all
wanted to have a farewell drink with him.
Although he enjoyed
their company and was grateful for the sentiment, there was somewhere else he
would have preferred to be.
He had arranged an
assignation with cute housemaid Amy Galasso, with whom, following a chance
encounter in the library on his first night, they had been having a satisfying
and sustained affair.
It was after eleven
o’clock when he got to his room and opened the door.
The light from the
landing flooded into the room and in the centre of his bed was the unmistakable
shape of his little housemaid laying in the foetal position with her back to
him.
He closed the door and
quickly undressed and joined her in bed, and cuddled up behind her, sliding one
arm under her neck and wrapping it around her and resting his hand on her
waist, while his other hand sought out her cute buttock, which was cold to his
touch, which meant she hadn’t been there for long.
He began to caress the
cold fleshy cheek until it began to warm, as did his ardour, as he caressed the
subtle curves of her buttocks, slowly exploring every contour of its delicious
shape until his fingers reached the radiant heat of her pussy.
Amy began to stir as
his fingertips lightly traced around the wispy perimeter of her lips before his
finger peeled her lips apart like opening a piece of ripe fruit and entered the
creamy flesh inside.
She murmured coarsely
in her sleep as he continued stroking her juicy cunny while his other hand on
her waist steadied her as he frigged her until she gasped.
“Ohhhh Tristan” she
said, “I thought you were never coming”
“I’m sorry” he said
and kissed her shoulder, and she grabbed his spare hand and pulled it up to her
breast and squeezed his hand onto her tit the reached behind her and grabbed
his cock as he continued frigging her and bringing her closer and closer to
orgasm until she screamed out.
With his cock in hand
Amy wriggled her arse towards him and made a dreamy exclamation as he pushed
his tip between her sticky lips.
“Mmmmm” she repeated
as he followed through with the rest of him and was in a frenzy as she received
what she had clearly desired all day.
Amy was gripping the
frame of the bed and grunting rhythmically with every nerve tingling stroke
until she came so hard the bed shook and she juddered again as he finished in a
pulsating ejaculation.
“Well, that was worth
waiting for” she said between pants.
“It was for me”
Tristan replied
“A really nice one for
our last time together” she said
“There’s more than
that to come” Tristan replied
“Our last night
together then” she said quietly
“Do you want it to be
our last night?” he asked
“Of course, not” she
said, and her voice cracked
“Nor do I” Tristan
said
“Really?” she asked
and rolled over to face him
“Really” he replied
“Do you want me to
come and be your housemaid?” she asked hopefully
“Absolutely not” he
replied, and she was crestfallen “I want so much more”
“What are you saying?”
“I want you to come to
New Zealand with me” he said
“You want me to be
your housemaid in New Zealand?” she asked
“No”
“Your Housekeeper
then” she said
“No, you silly girl, I
want you to be a farmer’s wife” he explained
“What farmer?”
“This farmer” he said
and pointed at his chest
Suffice is to say the
news was well received and they fucked again that night and twice again the
next morning.
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