Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Cassy heard the familiar rattle of her letterbox. The post here in Cornwall was always on time; letters and bills would arrive on her welcome matt at some point between nine-thirty and ten every morning. Back in London you would be lucky to see a postman before midday.
She had come down from Capital over a year ago, and now had no regrets. For a short period, out of season during her first December, she had wondered if she had done the right thing leaving her job and her friends. During that winter she had felt disengaged from the world, isolated and deflated. The locals had seemed indifferent, only the young men would acknowledge her as a presence, with looks of lust as she walked by. She had never felt so completely alone.
At first she constantly pined for Amie, her ex-partner. She still could not understand why she betrayed her trust and jumped into bed with that slutty little book illustrator, Pippa Goodenough. What irked most about Amie’s deceit was that she herself had introduced them to each other at the London Book Fair. They were now living together in Nottinghill Gate, and last month they, the bitches, had sent her an invitation to their civil ceremony. Talk about rubbing your nose in it!
When Amie told Cassy that she was leaving, that was the final straw. For months before it all blew up she had only been going through the motions at work. After Amie’s news, and a week of smashing ornaments, she decided to resign from her job as features editor at Crimson Lady, the society women’s magazine. Widespread broadband meant she could easily have carried on working from her new home in Cornwall, but she had decided to take a complete break and concentrate on finishing the novel she had been wrestling with for over two years. Her agent had promised to get it published on the strength of the first chapter
The writing had been going well and now she was in the final stages of tidying up loose ends. She had no T.V. and only an old dial up Internet connection, which she used once a week to catch up with her friends. The still viewed her move away with bewildered incredulity. But she did not miss the tedious social rounds; the invitations to a new book launch, or the dinner parties held by smug happy couples. Nor the office gossip or the deluge of celebrity tittle-tattle that the media and her own publication was obsessed with.
After paying back what she still owed on the mortgage, the money she had made on the sale of her flat had been enough for her to buy small cottage. Properties were a third the price you would pay in London. With the thirty thousand she now had left over, she would be able to survive for at least two years or more. Time enough to finish her book.
Gradually, though, Cassy had fallen in love with the bleak isolation of the Cornish coast in winter. Now the sense of isolation protected her and impelled her inwards, to dig deep within her-self for the ideas that would steer her writing. Each day before she would start to write, she would walk on the beach in the early morning, the wind from the Atlantic scouring her face. Then, for half an hour or more, she would sit on the dunes, snugly ensconced in the depths of her arctic parka, and let the sound of the huge breakers sweep her mind clean. She would go back to her work desk inspired, ready to write for four hours. It was the same each day, everyday, like clockwork.
And over time the locals had become used to seeing her going about her errands in their small seaside town, and they would stop to pass the time of day. The shopkeepers would smile in recognition when she went into their stores and address her as Miss Thompson.
It was now late May and it was hot. The summer seemed to be here at last. She had set about opening her mail and was feeling very pleased with her new life. She drank tea whilst looking at each envelope in turn. Most were typed business correspondences, but there was one letter with a large colourful foreign stamp in the corner. The address was in a handwriting that she recognised as belonging to one of the twins, her nieces, the daughters of her much older sister Mary.
Now, which one was it? Cassy looked hard at the handwriting and decided it belonged to Lotti. Lorri was left-handed and was not as neat as her sister. It said that the pair would soon be back in the U.K and asked, would it be okay for them to visit? They would telephone when they arrived in at the airport. She had given up ever hearing from them again, and although tears were in her eyes, inside she felt ready to burst with gladness.
Two weeks later she was waiting outside the railway station waiting for the girls to arrive, feeling excited, and very nervous. They would be grown women now, not the teenage girls they had been when they left. She thought about how they used to be and the time they were emotionally close.
After their father, Jack, had left them, Mary had found it hard to cope with the girls. The separation had affected her badly and she had started to balçova escort drink heavily. Relatives offered to do what they could to help her with the care of her daughters.
The girls would visit Cassy once each month, to stay with her and Amie, in the new house that they had just moved into. They would arrive Friday evening and leave Sunday teatime. Amie indulged the girls, and Cassy loved those days when they would play being a family. As other relatives became tired of the burden of looking after two troubled teenage girls, they came to Cassy’s place more and more often, until by the time they were seventeen they were there every weekend, and longer in the holidays.
During their eighteenth year, whilst taking their exams, it had been thought best that the twins went to live with Cassy for the summer. There they could study without having to cope with the emotional demands of their mother. They both received the grades they needed for the universities of the their choice and all was looking on course for them. In September Cassy waved them both goodbye as they set out together on their gap-year travels. They had not been back to the UK since that day, failing to return to take up their uni places. It had been three years now since she had seen them. She had received the occasional email, or card but in her heart she had thought them lost to her.
And then she saw them coming through the station exit, all back packs, T-shirts, and shorts. She marvelled at the pair. They were both fine looking young women now, but together, like this, their combined beauty radiated from them and no one could help but stop and stare as they went by. They were not identical twins; Lotti had straight, nearly black hair. She was Olive skinned and Mediterranean looking. Cassy had always thought she resembled a younger version of herself, and did so even more so today. They had probably inherited a similar combination of genes. Lorri was taller, with pale and freckled skin, her hair was an explosion of strawberry blond curls. Her looks were those of her father.
Cassy got out of the car and waved, “Over here, girls.”
They both turned, and when they saw her, Lotti shouted, “Auntie Cassy! Oh Auntie Cassy! She’s there, Lorri.” She pointed, “There!” They ran to her.
They hugged and exchanged kisses. Tears came to Cassy’s eyes and she thought she might cry completely. She had not expected this surge of emotion. After the company of strangers for so long the sudden presence of her family undid some tight knot that she had tied inside herself, it detonated a bomb of love.
When the excitement had abated, Cassy took them to a local pub for lunch. They talked all afternoon, re-establishing old bonds. The girls explained their failure to return and were sad that they had upset Cassy. They told her of their plans and that they were back in the UK to stay, and that they would now be re-applying to university.
Later, they asked if it would be okay if they surfed for a couple of hours before going to the cottage. Cassy said that she could do with some time on the beach in the sun, and that she would love to watch them. The girls hired boards and wet suits and ambled down to the waterline.
She watched from the dunes as they surfed. Learning to surf had been on her list of things to do, but the winter had meant she had put it on hold. Today the surf was clean and well formed, the waves about two foot high. They were not bad surfers and managed to ride a number of waves all the way. They had taken lessons while they had been in New Zealand, and had practised again while travelling in Australia.
After the surfing, the girls sat on towels with their aunt.
Sitting up and rummaging in her beach bag, Cassy said, “You should put some cream on, girls. It may not be that hot but the sun can still catch you. Especially you, Lorri, with that fair skin of yours.” She threw the bottle to her.
Lorri undid the top and smeared dollops onto her arms and rubbed it in, all the while looking at Cassy. “Can you do my shoulders, Aunt Cassy, please? I can’t reach.”
Cassy crawled across the towels to her and quickly applied cream to Lorri’s, pale, freckled shoulders.
“Can you do my legs too,” said Lorri.
Lorri objected to her sister. “Lotti! You can’t expect Aunt Cassy to do your legs. Here let me.” She took the bottle from Cassy and applied it to her sister’s legs. Lotti was now lying face down.
Cassy watched Lorri smearing Lotti’s legs with cream. She noticed that as Lotti’s creamed hands went up Lorri’s legs, her sister spread them wider and allowed her to rub cream into her inner thighs up to her crutch. Cassy turned away slightly embarrassed. But in spite of herself, a little aroused.
That night, while the girls showered and changed into frocks, Cassy cooked a meal, which they ate outdoors round the big wooden garden table. You could not see the sea from Cassy’s garden but you could hear the waves pummelling karşıyaka escort the sand two hundred yards away. As the late-spring evening dwindled, they sat by the light of garden candles and the girls told more tales of their travels. Cassy listened with genuine interest, savouring the voices she had not heard for so long. They chatted and laughed, slowly getting very slightly drunk together, happy to be together again.
By nine-thirty, the night air had become too chilled to stay outside. They went indoors and lit a fire in the old hearth. While they waited for it to take hold, the three of them went into the kitchen to tackle the dishes. As Cassy washed, the girls were busy around her in the cramped space of the small cottage scullery, cleaning the stove and surfaces. They would brush past each other as they worked. Once Lorri gently held Cassy’s waist from behind, as she was squeezing past, and lingered by her for seconds, then moved on. Cassy was sure she had felt a close breath about her neck, but quickly dismissed the thought that for one brief second she allowed to creep into her mind. After all, they were family and could allow each other such intimacies.
When all was clean and in order Cassy went to join the girls, who had already returned to the living room. They were sitting together on the sofa and had music playing in the background. She took the chair facing them and they began to talk about the times when the twins used to stay over with her and Amie.
Lotti asked, “Auntie Cassy, why did you and Amie split up?”
Cassy did not like to badmouth her ex to the twins, she had been good to them and had been truly fond of them, and they in turn had happy memories of her.
“We just drifted apart,” she lied. “We wanted different things.”
“I was so fond of her,” said Lotti. “I would loved to have seen her again, and talked to her now woman to woman.”
“Bet you didn’t know Lotti was a closet lesbian, did you Aunt Cassy?” Lorri said as, with a wicked smile playing on her lips, she reached over and touched her sister’s cheeks in a sexy-mock-teasing gesture.
“I am so not,” Lotti spat back at her sister, knocking her arm away. Then turning to Cassy, “But Aunt Cassy, Lorri did have a crush on you. Didn’t you, Lorri?”
“Lottiiiii! No I so did not.” She gave her sister a look that Cassy found hard to interpret.
“Ignore her, Aunt Cassy. She’s being spiteful and nasty; just because I wouldn’t let her use my Ipod on the train.” Her face was turning crimson as she spoke.
“Yes, you did. When we were eighteen and staying at auntie’s, during that time Mum was dining, you asked me to put on one of her dresses so that you could pretend I was Aunt Cassy for you. You said you wanted to kiss me when I was dressed up.”
“Lorri! You little bitch! You know I didn’t ask you to do that. Why are you saying this now?”
Lorri was becoming deeply embarrassed and angry. But only because what really really did happen back then.
It had been coming up to Christmas and they were visiting for the week. They had been left alone and were in the lounge reading. Cassy and Amie had gone to do seasonal shopping.
Lotti had asked, “Do you think Auntie Cassy is beautiful, Lorri?”
“Sometimes when I look at how gorgeous she is I want to kiss her and hold her. But I love her more because she has been so good to us and has always been there for us,” confessed Lorri.
Lotti was looking at herself in a small mirror. “I look a lot like her, don’t you think, Lorri?
“Sometimes you do…You know you do.”
“So…does that mean you want to kiss and hold me too?”
“Why would I want to kiss you. Ugh!” Lorri pulled her face and pocked her tongue at her sister. “But you probably will be just like her when you’re older…but she’s different than you are now. She’s all sophisticated and fashionable. The clothes she wears, and her hair and make up, are all different than yours. She moves in a different way than you do, she speaks nice and gentle.”
“I want to be just like her when I’m twenty-six,” said Lotti, brushing her dark hair from her eyes.
“Would you have a girlfriend like Amie, too? I bet you would, wouldn’t you?
“If I did like girls, I would choose one with red hair and had white skin.” A dreamy look had come into Lotti’s eyes.
“Lottiiii! You will be such a fish-slut!”
“I don’t care; why should I care?”
“How do you think they do it with each other?” said Lorri, trying to be outrageous. “Do you think they use one of those rubber cock things?”
“A dildo. You mean a dildo. Lorri, you are so not sophisticated.”
Lotti grinned and said. “No, I bet they have a strap on. You know a big artificial penis attached to pants that the one who is being the man puts on and uses to do it to do her girlfriend with; like if they were a regular couple.”
“No waaay! çeşme escort Is that what they do? Do you think Aunt Cassy and Amie really have one of those?”
“I bet they do.”
Lotti had an idea and said, “I’m just going to have a shower. Stay here, Lotti. You can think about Aunt Cassy and Amie doing it. Try not to touch yourself while you do… You know you want to.”
Lorri hurled her book at her sister and shouted, “You are such a doob”
Lotti went upstairs and showered, dried herself, then wandered naked into Cassy’s room. She inspected her aunt’s underwear draw looking for sex toys but did not find any. So, instead she chose items and lay them on the bed, then opened the wardrobe and took out a trendy blue mini-dress and put it beside the white bras and panties. After looking at them for a minute, she slipped into Cassy’s underwear.
On the floor, by the bed, was a pair of discarded pantyhose; she picked them up and delicately sniffed at them, to make sure they were her aunt’s and not Amie’s They had the musky aroma of Cassy and the sweetness of her body spray. As she pulled them over her legs and up around her waist, she began to feel that it was her aunt’s skin that she was stepping into. She wriggled into the dress, fastened the buttons and looked into the mirror. Not quite good enough she thought, and spent fifteen minutes with make up trying to replicate Cassy’s look. When she had her face the best she could make it, she clipped her dark hair into the same style that her aunt would wear it and then dabbed a little of Cassy’s favourite perfume onto her neck.
She stood back and looked at herself in the mirror. In the late afternoon half-light of the December afternoon it was not herself that she saw reflected; it was her aunt Cassy that was looking back at her from the glass. Her mind began to spin as she tried to comprehend the transformation. She touched her own face, rubbed her hands the length of her own body, and as she watched in the mirror, she felt her own identity slipping away.
“Lotti! What the fuck are you doing?” Lorri stood in the doorway. Her mouth was open now, but no more words would come out.
In a dazed whisper, Lotti said, “I’ve done it for you, Lotti… just for you. I thought you would like me to be Aunt Cassy for you…I know you are in love with her. That you really do love her a lot.”
Lorri did not know whether to scream at her sister or go to hold her. She’d never told anyone, not even her twin, the reality of just how much she did love Cassy, and how she would lie in bed at night and imagine her aunt beside her. Lorri would fantasise about her kissing her face and stroking her hair, telling her everything was okay, then falling asleep in her arms.
She should have realised Lorri would know how she felt. They had no other secrets. And now Lorri had changed herself; just for her. Looking at her now, she could not make her brain understand; it was like a photographic double exposure. Lotti was there but her aunt was also standing there, inviting her and offering the physical closeness she craved, and needed,
Her longing for love and physical contact won the day and she walked over to Lotti, stood inches from her and, without bodies touching, kissed her gingerly on the lips. The taste of lip-gloss on another female’s mouth was a new thing to her, and what her body was feeling was also a new and confused her.
Lotti placed her hands on the side her sister’s hips, drew herself closer and buried her face into her warm soft neck and hair. The shock of Cassy’s scent lingering there pleased her; the presence of her aunt calmed and reassured her. Then she moved closer, holding her sister tight and kissing her like she would a boy. Lorri led her sister onto the bed and for the next half-hour they kissed and held each other. The sexual arousal that came was enough in itself, they did not need to see it further, to bring it to any kind of climax or release. The heightened sexuality of their minds and bodies was euphoric and sufficient enough for their needs.
Every week after this, they would play their little game while Cassy and Amie were out. Sometimes Lorri would put on something of Amie’s, or wear her perfume. As time went by they became more adventurous, and eventually they would undress each other and would lie together on Cassy’s bed naked, enjoying the comfort of each other’s softness, revelling in the rich full cream thickness of their silky nakedness. They were never intimate with each other in this way in any other place. They needed to be at Cassy’s house, and for Lorri to be in her aunt’s clothes for the magic to start to work.
When they had left Cassy, and gone abroad they had never again mentioned their weekly intimacies. Each pretended it had never happened. They were just sisters again, no longer pretend-lovers.
Lorri reached across the sofa and grabbed her sister’s hair and started to pull hard, all the while screaming, “Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! You fucking bitch! It was your fault. You started it. How could you tell Cassy? I hate you! Hate you! Hate you!”
Lotti fought back as best she could but was being hurt and overpowered by her sister’s rage. They were both screaming drunkenly at each other.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32