Choice Tales from the Vale – (627) Relight my fire

 

The village of Oakvale-On-Roe is in the north of the relatively small English county of Downshire, situated between the old market Town of Nettlebridge, and their more affluent neighbour Roespring, and in the Old Coopers Farm area to the north of the village was Stone Bridge Lane where Brendan Healey lived at number 13.

There weren’t a lot of Dwellings in the lane, a converted barn unimaginatively named “The Old Barn” then there were 15 terraced cottages, Ten Acre Farm, another converted barn called Small Barn and Ironsides Farm.

The cottages were of a decent size, having been enlarged many years earlier by knocking two of the old labourer’s cottages into one, it was too big for a man living alone, but he liked it, it was his castle.

He worked hard for the post office and had reached a senior level and when he got home to Oakvale, he liked to get inside and pull up the drawbridge behind him.

He had no family left, his circle of close friends was small and dwindling, so very few people made it past the drawbridge, and most of them were tradesmen or domestics.

 

Maggie and Lyndsey Atkins lived in a flat over the Greengrocers, and it had just been the two of them since Lyndsey was seven when her father died.

When he died, he had no life insurance, no savings and left them with debts.

They were very hard working, and both had multiple jobs, since Lyndsey was old enough to do so she did her share and she had to forgo higher education even though she was more than capable.

Fifty-three-year-old Maggie Atkins was primarily a cleaner, and cleaned all over the village, private addresses and businesses, she cleaned Brendan Healey cottage every Friday Morning.

Lyndsey was principally a server at The Roebank, worked shifts at the Supermarket and helped her mum with the bigger cleaning jobs, in addition she did ironing, and one of her clients was Brendan.

 

After Lyndsey finished her Saturday morning shift at the Supermarket, she mounted her bike and peddled off to her first ironing session of the day in the affluent Shepherds Row area of the village.

It was a lovely warm and sunny late August day as she peddled up the hill, dressed for the weather in loose-fitting pale blue shorts and a white sleeveless top.

She was neither tall nor short, her hair was blonde, but of an indistinct shade, which was short and curly, she thought she was vaguely attractive with an average figure however other people of course saw her differently as she cycled around the village.

 

It was lunchtime when she remounted her bike and left Shepherds Row and headed home for a quick sandwich.

While she was home, she changed her top for a pink one and then was back on her bike peddling towards Stone Bridge Lane all knees and elbows, her blonde hair blowing around her head.

She crossed the stone bridge and passed a converted barn on the left, opposite a row of ten terraced Houses, then just after the road leading to Ten Acre Farm, was her destination, number 13.

Brendan Healey was a surly thirty-six-year-old career Postal worker who worked in the Nettlebridge Sorting Office as a senior manager, still a very capable worker even on his bad days but his surliness seemed to be getting worse with every passing week, and he was divorced, and childless.

Lyndsey was fast approaching her thirtieth birthday and had been doing Brendan Healey’s ironing once a week for around 9 months. and for the first three weeks he certainly lived up to his surly reputation but over the months he had slowly mellowed with her and from June onwards he had been very chatty.

By August they had progressed to enjoying a glass of wine after she’d finished her labours, and on that Saturday of the bank holiday weekend, as it was such a warm day they had two glasses and were halfway through the second when he said.

“So how are you spending your Saturday night?”

“Same as most Saturdays, feet up in front of the TV”

“Why is that? You’re an attractive young woman; with a lovely figure you should be out on a Saturday with your fella” he said

“I don’t have one” she replied

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed, a girlfriend then”

“NO, I’m not one of them, although I did kiss a girl once, but it didn’t do anything for me” she explained

“Not that it’s any better with men”

“What do you mean?”

“They look all right, especially my tits, most men look at them, I’ve even noticed you ogling them”

“Only look?”

“Well, I do go on dates occasionally, I get asked a lot, especially working at the pub, but they have expectations and my body fails to oblige” she said being uncharacteristically open, probably due to the heat and the wine

“I don’t understand”

“The spirit is willing, but the flesh doesn’t seem to get the message” she replied

“So, they don’t turn you on?”

“Nope”

“Or can’t turn you on?” he asked

“Yep”

“So, you’re frigid?”

“I’m afraid so” she confirmed

“So, you don’t get…. moist?”

“Not even damp”

“Nothing?”

“Dry as a mouses ear” she retorted and scoffed

“Have you always been like that?”

“No when I was a teenager, I was keen as mustard, but I was very selective with my favours” she said “Now I wish I’d been more promiscuous”

“So, when did it all change?” he asked

“When I was 19, I had cervical cancer, and after the treatment my urges became more and more infrequent and finally, they stopped altogether”

“So, you can’t even take care of yourself?”

“No” she replied wistfully

“I wish I could”

“I’m sorry” he said

“Me too” she said and drained her glass and stood up “I should be going”

“Well knowing what I know won’t stop me ogling though” he said as he followed her into the kitchen

“You don’t just have to look, why don’t you help yourself” she said as she reached up behind her and unhooked her bra and stood in front of the island “Not that it will do anything”

“I don’t think I should be doing that” he said, “Isn’t that overstepping the boundary between employer and …domestique?”

“Don’t be silly, knock yourself out,” she insisted crossly “Have at em”

“Well, I still don’t think I should,” he said “However as you are so insistent, it would be churlish of me to refuse, and as you rightly said I have been ogling them for months”

“Just get on with it, a quick grope and you’re done” she said matter of factly as she pulled her pink top up from her shorts, so he stood behind her he put his palms against her bare flesh.

She tensed briefly when his hands made contact and then she breathed in as his hands proceeded up under her top and exhaled slowly as he cupped the weighty plumpness of her breasts.

Her breathing deepened as her nipples stiffened against his palms

“They seem to be responding nicely” he said

“Well don’t stop there then” she gasped

“Unbutton your shorts” he told her and when she had eagerly obliged, he slid his hand purposely across her soft belly and beneath the waistband of her knickers, his fingers brushing briefly through her abundant whiskers.

“Oh God” she exclaimed as his finger parted her sticky lips.     

“No sign of a mouses ear so far.”

“I wasn’t expecting that” she moaned “Thank God.”

It wasn’t many more minutes before she juddered to a climax.

“I’m ready for you to fuck me now” she said and as he withdrew his digit.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure for fuck sake” she barked through gritted teeth so he bent Lindsey over the kitchen island and yanked her pale blue shorts and  red knickers off her round arse exposing her fleshy cheeks and her dirty blonde whiskered lips, then he undid his shorts and readied himself before plugging his cock into her creamy wetness.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God” she panted as he went in deep.

“Oh yes” she grunted as he banged her from behind “It’s been so long.”

She panted and moaned until that sublime moment when she yelled.

“Oh my God” and went rigid.

She had come hard but he hadn’t emptied his sack and when he withdrew her legs buckled.

“Oh my God” she sighed “that was so good and so dirty.”

“Glad you enjoyed it” he said.

“Are you kidding, you made me cum hard, I’m satisfied with that” she said smugly.

“I know, you came hard and fast” he said.

“That’s because I haven’t had a cock in me for more than 10 years” she retorted and giggled as she lay slumped on the island.

“Well, I finished you, but you didn’t finish me” he explained as he kicked his shorts and pants away.

“What?” she exclaimed as she lifted her head up and looked over her shoulder at his erection “You mean there’s more?”

“There is if you get upstairs,” he replied as she stood up and stepped out of her shorts and knickers.

“You know where my bedroom is” he added but she was already running to the door before he finished the sentence.

 

Two hours after she had originally announced “I should be going” she stepped out of the kitchen door and after a final kiss Lyndsey left number 13 Stone Bridge Lane and Brendan watched her walk back to her bike and he thought she looked as good from behind as she did from the front and he smiled as she mounted her bike again and turned to give him a wave before peddling away, somewhat wobbly.

She would be back however, and not just to do the ironing because following that first sensual encounter she became a regular recipient of his attentions as she helped him with his surliness and he kept her frigidity at bay.