Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Title: In Love with Lori Ch.  04
Summary: David and Lori return to England and make wedding plans.
Keywords: inc,fic
   Arriving back in England was a lot less traumatic that I thought it
would be.  The flight was on time, our seats were good, and comfortable,
and we cleared Customs & Immigration with only the token interview for
Lori, as an incoming immigrant.  Her passport duly stamped, we trailed
through the Arrivals lounge, people stopping in their tracks to ogle this
vision of hip-swaying, traffic-stopping loveliness by my side.  We managed
to hail a taxi into central London, to spend a few nights in Marble Arch to
give Lori a chance to sight-see and do the tourist thing.  After that, we'd
decided to head on down to the flat in Epsom, in Surrey, not too far from
the famous racecourse.  We would be basing ourselves there for the next few
months while we house-hunted and planned our formal wedding, thanks to my
friend who owned it; he was on secondment in Dubai, so he told us to use it
as a base for as long as we needed it.  Lori and Aunt Sophie would plan the
whole service, dress, cake, and reception thing; I was going back to finish
my surgical rotation at the hospital I was trained at, St.  Giles' in South
London.
   When we arrived at the hotel, Lori was a little overwhelmed by it; the
hotel was located at the top of Park Lane, looking all the way down Park
Lane, towards Buckingham Palace.  Our suite was an Edwardian fantasy; all
Carrara marble walls and crisp linen tablecloths, polished brass fittings
and teak panelling.  Lori thought it was the most romantic place she'd ever
seen or imagined, and put her in the frame of mind I was hoping for.  She
was not in Iowa anymore, and I wanted her to start feeling at home as soon
as possible.  After we had unpacked, I asked her what she wanted to do
first.  Her reply was to kiss me seriously, pushing me backwards until the
backs of my knees hit the bed, and I went over, her on top of me.  We
horsed around for a while, wrestling, tickling, groping, until I was able
to pin her down and look into her beautiful eyes.
   "So, Mrs.  Denham, my real, true, actual wife-and-not-sister, what were
you planning on doing now that you've decoyed me into your lair?"
   Lori grinned back at me, and pulled me in for a long, slow, deep kiss,
making my nerve-endings prickle and my temperature rise as I felt myself
flushing.
   "Well, Doctor Denham, I was wondering if you could give me one of your
'special' injections; I feel a sudden irresistible attack of nymphomania
coming on..." she said in her best 'innocent little girl' voice, the one
she knows I can't resist.
   "We shall have to see, won't we?" I leered at her, pulling at the button
on her jeans, working it open so I could slide the zipper down.
   "Why Doctor Denham, whatever are you doing?" she asked me in that voice
again, making me lose concentration as I started tugging her jeans down.
   "Young lady, before I can give you an injection, I have to give you a
check-up first!" I chuckled, slowly stripping her and marvelling, as I
always did, at her smooth china-white skin, her firm taut young flesh, and
her marvellously pneumatic body as more of it was revealed as I slowly,
painstakingly removed her clothes.  Lori smiled at me, batting her bright
blue eyes every time I looked at her, her whole presence alluring,
tempting, wickedly desirable, and mine!
   At last, I had her down to her micro underwear, a few wisps of silk and
chiffon, nothing more than token garments, worn to tease and titillate me,
not for any reason of decorum or need to conceal; at this point, I could be
forgiven for having a little gloat; no, actually, I had a HUGE gloat.  This
girl was mine!  Look on, all ye mortal men, and despair, I got the prize,
she was mine, all mine, mwahahahaha!
   Now she went to work on me, unbuttoning my slacks and fumbling at the
buttons on my work shirt, hastily assisting me to strip down to my boxers,
noting with satisfaction the bulge tenting the front of said boxers.
   "Oh Dr.  Denham, I think you're not well, look at you, you're all
swelled-up!" she husked, "I think you need some massage!" and she slid her
hand into my shorts and proceeded to 'massage' me, her warm hand
rhythmically squeezing and pumping my shaft, making me even harder, if
possible; it was already so hard you could shatter paving slabs with it, or
etch paving glass, but she did the impossible; she tensed it up even
further.
   "There, just like Reverend Willis used to ask me to do at Sunday School,
doesn't that feel better?" she cooed, devilment playing in her eyes while I
was torn between giggling at what she was saying and concentrating on not
bursting right through the material of my shorts and slapping her in the
forehead with Davey Jr.
   While she was groping me, I was just as happily groping her, slipping
her underwear off her and getting her naked for phase two of my dastardly
plan; lure her into bed for some serious horizontal jogging and a pumping
session or three...
   Lori slid my shorts down, allowing my cock into the open, and now I was
as naked as she, and she wasted no time in sliding her lips over the end,
giving me a quick suck as a preliminary for the main event.  I pulled her
up to me, kissing her deeply, my arousal so intense I could taste it; all I
wanted to do was let myself go and ram my cock into her as hard and as fast
as I could, and I didn't care where it went.  Lori, however had very
definite ideas about what she wanted to do, rubbing my head over and around
her hot wet slit, showing me what was coming next.
   I rolled onto my back, taking her with me, so she was lying on top of
me, still rubbing and grinding her mound against me as she wriggled on top
of me.  She had that grin on her face again, that catching of her bottom
lip between her teeth that told me something fun (and inventively dirty!)
was brewing.  God I love this girl!
   Lori kissed me and sat upright to straddle me, her slit a hot damp
sensation on my lower belly.  She began to slide back and forth, rubbing
her damp pussy against me, grinning minxily at me as she did so.  I reached
for her fabulous, gravity-defying breasts, feeling her nipples solidly
erect and thrumming against my palms as I cupped her beauties.  She smiled
at that, and clamped her hands over mine, using my hands to tease and
stimulate her nipples as she ground and gyrated on top of me.
   While my hands were busily enjoying her phenomenal boobs, my cock was
feeling left out, to say the least.  My erection was now so solid it was
painful, and at last Lori seemed to remember it was there, reaching behind
herself to squeeze and pump me quickly, grinning at me all the while.
   "What she we do with this, Doctor-Man?" she husked, lifting herself
slightly to rub the head against her crotch, but especially against her
rosebud, as she slowly rubbed her pussy wetly against me, her secretions
forming a slick film on my lower belly as her labia dragged back and forth
in her dance on me.  I arched my back in desperation, hoping to slide my
aching cock into her, but she slid away from me.
   "Uh-uh, Doctor-Man, not yet!" she cooed, her eyes glinting with
amusement and arousal.  She was heating up, and she wanted to play this
game by her rules, so I would have to play along to get to that place I
wanted.  She continued to slide back and forth on me, using little
hip-jerking movements, squeezing my cock and occasionally sliding her pussy
lips over it, making it slick and wet before rubbing it over the tight
crinkled star of her anus.
   Finally she decided she was ready, and, holding my cock like a spear
pointing at her anus, she slid herself back down and forced herself against
me, pushing my cock into her tight anus against the resistance of her tight
ring, until the head popped into her.  At the same time she rubbed her
steaming pussy with her other hand.  I arched my back and pushed forward,
meeting her as she impaled herself on me, the sensation of my cock sliding
into her almost dry nearly too much to bear.  She was sobbing and gasping
at the invasion, the feeling of the raw, almost rough way my cock was being
forced into her obviously affecting her deeply.
   At last I was all the way in, and Lori leaned down on me a she caught
her breath.  I reached for her magnificent arse and grabbed both cheeks
beginning to slide myself in and out of her, but she grinned at me and
shook her head.
   "No David, I want to do this my way!" she gritted, and with that began
an easy, hip-rolling pumping motion, like she was riding a mechanical bull,
slipping up and then sliding back down onto my cock.  The dragging
friction, the damp heat and the constriction of her tight rectal tube
around my cock had me ready to shoot inside a few seconds.  Lori sensed
what she was doing to me, and leaned back, one hand resting on my thighs
for support as the other rubbed and pulled at her wet slit and hard, erect
clitoris.  At the same time, she slowed her hip-thrusting ride on my cock,
speeding up to take me to the brink then slowing and dropping me back down,
again and again, until I was at fever pitch, an almost overpowering need
building in me to explode inside my beautiful sister-wife, my darling Lori!
   Lori's hand at her pussy was a blur now, as she rubbed, and stroked,
pulled and squeezed as she stimulated herself, until, with a loud sighing
groan, she slumped forward, her hands on my midsection as she shuddered and
quivered, her orgasm bolting through her and jarring her with its
intensity. Her anus clamped down on my pumping cock, and with that my cock
swelled and pulse after pulse of sperm lanced out of me, painting the
inside of her rectum and bowels with my hot spunk as I came with such force
my eyes whited-out and my ears popped.
   As I came, the feel of me ejaculating so forcefully inside her set her
off again, and she mewled and shook as orgasm took her again and again,
powerful aftershocks rattling through her and lighting up her central
nervous system with sensation and pleasure.
   At last the tremors died away, and slumped down on me, her lips finding
mine as she held herself against me.
   "That was so good, Davey, keep doing that to me, and I'll consider
keeping you!" she grinned when she finally broke our kiss.
   I slid my hands back down to her lovely backside, squeezing those
glorious globes as I nibbled and licked her neck, her shoulders, and her
earlobes, anywhere I could reach, in fact.
   "Davey, I'm hungry, let's eat somewhere nice tonight!  Do you know a
good place?"
   I did indeed; the Hotel had already made reservations for us at a famous
Michelin-starred restaurant just around the corner on Upper brook Street.
   I told Lori we were dining at one of the best restaurants in London, so
she had to get her boots and socks on, as we only had an hour to make our
reservations.
   30 minutes later we were walking out to the waiting car, a sleek
Mercedes limousine.  Lori was wearing that stunning red minidress she'd
worn for dinner with Sophie the night she'd told her she was pregnant, and
those stellar red stiletto's, and with her china complexion and her jet
black hair cascading down her back, she looked completely stunning. 
Passing cars were slowing down to ogle her, and I had to grin; I was right,
she really was a traffic stopper!
   We got the same kind of reception at the restaurant; people were craning
their necks to look at her, their foreheads wrinkling as they tried to
place her.  'A stunningly beautiful girl in a micro-dress, with a body like
that, she must be famous, where have I seen her before?' was the general
undercurrent in the room as we were seated, and Lori lapped up every
molecule of it, playing to the crowd for all she was worth.  Her Midwest
accent broadened, and her frequent head-tossing as she flicked her hair out
of her eyes, and her constant crossing and re-crossing of her legs were
followed by every man in the room.  We had no lack of waiters; all she had
to do was look up and there would be one there; I got the impression they
were competing to see who could get there fastest just so she could grace
him with her attention.
   A couple of minor TV celebs came in and were seated at their own tables,
people I knew vaguely from some soap or the other, and one of them, a
sleazy-looking individual, sent a bottle of champagne over to our table;
Lori declined it without looking at him and had it sent back, much to the
amusement of his friends and the surrounding tables.  He tried to send it
over again, but I intercepted it, asked a waiter for a wastebasket, and
dropped it in, again much to the amusement of his friends and the
restaurant in general.  At that point the Maitre d' asked him to leave, so
he and his mates slunk out, where no doubt any passing paparazzi would
capture the picture of a minor TV celeb being booted out of a top
restaurant for being a boorish prick.
   Lori was highly amused, and asked why I'd gone through the whole
pantomime of dropping the champagne in the trash.
   "You know, darling boy, I could have just gone over there, dragged him
upright, and kneed him in the balls, that would have given him the message
loud and clear!"
   I laughed out loud; I didn't need to protect my wife, she was quite
capable of defending herself against pests.  When we eventually left,
having had a superb meal of wild salmon, grilled beef, scallops, and a
selection of cheeses, the car and our driver was waiting for us.  As we
came out, that idiot from earlier tried to accost Lori, so I had to
accidently elbow him under the chin and listen to the click as his teeth
slammed together.  He tried to splutter something so I pulled him closer by
his neck and grabbed his balls, squeezing as hard as I could, enjoying the
sight of his pupils dilating as the elevated testicular compression
threatened to pop his eyeballs out of their sockets.  When I judged I had
his full attention, I spoke quietly and urgently to him.
   "Look, twat, if you don't fuck off and leave my wife alone, I'm going to
crush your plums and feed you the squashy remains, are you getting this? 
Now fuck off and stay fucked-off!  Keep away from my wife, you pathetic
little prick, the only time she'd ever go with a snotty little shit-stain
like you is after she's dead, and not even then, so fuck off or I'll rip
your balls off!  I mean it, boy, do yourself a favour and fuck off, or that
man over there is going to shove your face down your neck and pull it out
of your arse!"
   He looked disbelievingly at me, the words 'do you know who I am?'
hovering on his lips, when a hand like a shovel descended on top of his
head and pulled him upright by his cane-rolled nappy hair.  It was our
driver, who'd seen what was going on and decided to intervene.
   "Listen to me, you little prick!" he rumbled, "The nice gentleman told
you to fuck off, now fuck off!" Our new chum tried to struggle, whereupon
the driver spun him round and head-butted him right between the eyes.  I
heard the crunch from where I was standing, and watched interestedly as
blood spurted from his flattened nose, but I made no move to assist him;
I'm a Cardio, Maxillo-Facial is a closed book to me...
   The driver pulled him upright again by his frizzy hair, and gave him an
underarm punch between the legs that must have made his balls vibrate like
speed-bags and shredded his eardrums, turning him around so he could
throw-up in peace, then tripping him into the gutter, kicking him in the
backside while simultaneously punching him in the back of the head as he
went sprawling.  His mates all stood around staring at the huge man who'd
just kicked their friend's arse with such ease, and the excited comment
from the TV crew waiting outside to catch the rich and shameless at play as
they caught the whole thing in glorious living colour was a delight to
hear.
   Lori was trying her hardest not to laugh, but it burst out of her, and
our little friend had to contend with the sound of her laughter pealing out
as he picked himself up out of whatever nasty thing it was he'd just landed
in.  We watched the camera flashes going off, capturing the shot of a minor
TV soap star trying to scrape dogshit and puke off his pimp suit while
cradling his sore balls in the full glare of the paparazzi spotlight. 
Blood was drooling down his face from his squashed and pulpy nose, said
face not improved by its sudden impact with the road, vomit smeared his
shiny jacket, and a large patch of his cane-rolled hair was mysteriously
missing from the top of his head.  The driver grinned wolfishly at him, and
opened his hand to let a hank of hair fall to the pavement, dusting his
hands off as he opened the car door for Lori and me.
   We climbed back into the car and drove the short distance back to the
hotel.  On the way there, I thanked the driver, whose name was Jimmy, who
tried to brush it off as part of the service.
   He did say one thing that caught my attention, though.
   "If you don't mind me saying so, Sir, your wife is a very pretty lady,
she's gonna get a lot of that, maybe you need to think about getting
someone to be with her so this doesn't happen again!"
   I thought for a few seconds, agreed that he was right, and made a
decision.
   "You're right.  You're hired!"
   He sputtered as he tried to backpedal.
   "I didn't mean me, I was just pointing it out, I wasn't...!"
   I grinned at him.
   "You just talked yourself into a job, Jimmy.  We'll talk about the money
inside, but it will be significantly better than what you earn now, I
promise!  Do you own this car?"
   He shook his head.  "Nossir, it belongs to the service, I rent it from
them."
   "Okay," I said, "from tomorrow it's yours; you drive my wife around,
keep an eye on her, and help her with whatever she wants.  That means
you'll probably be spending a lot of time in Malls; I don't envy you!  I'll
have all the paperwork sorted for you by the end of the week, but from now
until you've had enough, you work for Lori.  And we'll have none of this
'Sir/Ma'am' nonsense; my name is David, Lori's you already know.  Tomorrow
we want to do a little sightseeing, so could you please be here for
breakfast at Nine o'clock, then Lori wants to see the Tower of London and
drive across Tower Bridge, are you okay with that?"
   Jimmy grinned broadly.
   "'Course I'm okay with that, I'm looking forward to it!"
   "Good, because after that she wants to see Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar
Square and go shopping in Knightsbridge, so you're going to have your work
cut out for you; once you get Lori in a department store you may have to
send in the dogs to get her out again!"
   By this time we'd arrived back at the hotel, so Lori went up to our
suite while Jimmy and I 'repaired to the bar' where we managed to find a
couple of beers with our names on them.
   We chatted amicably, sounding each other out.  I discovered he'd been a
Royal Marine Commando, when he finally left he'd worked as a security
guard, then as a bouncer, before landing this job as a driver/chauffeur,
always on single-drop gigs, so he'd rarely even spoken to the people he was
driving around.  I told him this job was going to be more interesting than
that; Lori was going house hunting, probably in Oxfordshire or Royal
Berkshire, so he could look forward to a lot of house viewings.
   Jimmy lived in a single-room studio flat in Bermondsey, and I promised
him a better deal than that; there were several three-and four bedroom
cottages dotted around in the grounds of Denham Hall, a hang-over from the
days when the house had been the hub of a working estate, complete with
farms, smithy, cider-press, brewery and dairy.  Now there was just the
house, about 50 acres of meadow and woodland, and the cottages, all of them
empty.  I was sure one or all of them could be made habitable, and if
things worked out, he could have one.
   Jimmy was overwhelmed; life hadn't exactly been a champagne
rollercoaster since he'd left the service, now he had his own limousine, a
well paying job, and the prospect of a home of his own.  He tried to thank
me, but I made light of it; I had no intention of ever living at Denham
Hall; it was a frightful, creepy, semi-derelict pile of crumbling
sandstone, still standing only because all the walls were leaning against
each other and propping the others up, and hadn't yet summoned up the
courage to do me a favour and collapse; the only way you'd get me in there
was at gunpoint; even the Ghostbusters would have lit-out at a dead run
from that spooky, creepy, scary place.
   As for the cottages in the grounds, they'd been deserted since before I
was born, so major renovation was called for.  When he wasn't being Lori's
right-hand man, he was tasked with managing the renovation of the cottages,
with Lori sticking her oar in as and when she felt like it; his
instructions were to humour her, then do it his way unless she was
watching, then he'd have to do it her way until she left, then do it his
way again...
   We discussed money next; I offered him £500 a week, plus meals, and gave
him the details of the firm of accountants who handled the trust funds,
they'd take care of his tax and National Insurance contributions, I'd leave
it to them to work out what they had to pay him in order to give him £500
cash in his hand every week.  The cottage would be rent-free; what on earth
would I do with rent from a cottage?  We already had such a preposterous
amount of money stashed in those trust funds we'd never be able to spend
it, what could we possibly do with more?  He'd stay iwith us in whatever
house we ended-up buying while the cottage he wanted was being renovated,
which would be handy.  Perhaps, if we bought a house with an additional
cottage or flat, he might prefer to live there instead, and manage the
Denham cottages as a renovation for rental business.  It was something to
think about.
   Jimmy left a happy man, and I went up to our room, to find a very loving
wife waiting for me; lucky me!
   "David," murmured Lori, grazing along my neck, "that was a very nice
thing you did for Jimmy, I'm proud of you!  Still, I don't actually need a
bodyguard, you know, I could have handled that skinny little no-dick by
myself; I've had lots of practice!"
   I grinned as I manhandled that gorgeous arse of hers, gift-wrapped in
the smallest, wispiest thong I'd ever encountered.
   "Darling Girl, he's not a bodyguard; he's going to be your driver,
companion, shopping cart and all round best-friend while I'm away.  Do you
remember a while ago I told you that I was going to be really busy for the
next couple of years?  Well I wasn't lying.  Surgical Rotation, especially
at a Teaching Hospital like St.  Giles, is the most demanding part of the
whole qualification process.  I've got two years of that, then another two
years of full caseload before I can even think about becoming a consultant
and set my own caseload; until then I have to rotate through the surgical
calendar with all the other surgical interns, so Jimmy is going to be very
important to you."
   "He'll be there when I can't be, and I promise, as you start to show,
you're going to need him more and more.  Hopefully Sophie will be here in a
couple of weeks or so, and Richard is retiring soon, I know you'll want to
be near them, and their home is in Oxfordshire, so Jimmy is going to be
house hunting with you, dare I say it, in Oxfordshire.  He'll be good to
have around as you go poking around in some of the more rural reaches,
Oxfordshire is a big place and some of the villages are more than a little
isolated.
   Also, he'll keep unwanted attention off and away from you; he's a
bootneck, a Royal Marine Commando, so anyone who tries to mess with you is
going to seriously regret it!"
   Lori dimpled.
   "I like the idea of having my own personal trouble-shooter!  Okay, since
it's what you want, I'll go along with it!"
   I grinned as I slipped my thumbs into the waistband of her thong and
slid it down, Lori grinning back as she stepped out of it and hooked it
with her foot, sending it spinning across the room to drape over one of the
wall sconces.
   "Don't forget where you left that," I smiled, "You'll give the little
old housekeeping ladies a heart attack if they find something like that
hanging there!"
   Lori grinned widely.
   "Don't you worry, Doctor-Man, that's just going to be a mild surprise
compared to some of the things I plan on leaving on the bed sheets!"
   I love her cheerfully vulgar sense of humour, and I couldn't help
grinning as I slid her dress down, exposing those spectacular tits and her
smoothly naked pussy.  Lori began tugging at my belt, pulling it open and
fumbling with the button and fly of my slacks.  As she undid them she slid
them down as I pulled my shirt off and threw it after her thong, finally
standing before her in just my shorts.  Lori soon remedied that, tugging
them down to allow my drooling cock free.
   "There, isn't that better!" she grinned, one hand rubbing the shaft
while she squeezed my plums with the other.  I reciprocated, pulling her
closer so I could fondle her tight bum and grope her damp, swollen pussy.
   Lor slid to her knees, squeezing and pumping me all the while, then
slowly slid her lips over the head of my cock, her hot mouth and soft
tongue feeling exquisite against the sensitive flesh.  I looked down to see
her looking up at me, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling as she slowly slid
my length into her hot, wet mouth.  As I watched, she began to suck, her
cheeks hollowing, the suction delightful on the sensitive head.  It was a
truly erotic moment, but I didn't want to come like this; I wanted to fuck
my wife, pump her full of my spunk, and make her scream on the end of my
cock.
   I took her hand as I stepped back, pulling myself from her mouth, Lori
grinning as I did so; she knew what I wanted, hell, she wanted it as much a
I did; and if there was a little bonus as well, that was all to the good...
   I lifted her to her feet, pulling her in close for a long and very
stimulating kiss while piloting her back toward the bed.  I tried to push
her down on the bed, but I felt her lips grin against mine as she tripped
me and somehow spun me around so she landed on top of me on the bed,
trapping my aching cock between our bellies.  Never one to pass-up an
opportunity, I immediately reached round and grabbed her lovely, pneumatic
bum with both hands, fondling and squeezing those world-class globular
buttocks while her lips vacuumed my face.  Lori paused in her kissing,
sighing as I pulled her bum cheeks apart and stretched her anus open.
   "You naughty man, what are you planning!" she grinned, rubbing her damp
vulva against my straining cock.  I responded by twitching, a muscular
reaction she noted immediately.
   "Oh, why didn't you say so!" she giggled, lifting up slightly to allow
my trapped cock some room to manoeuvre.  As it sprang upright, Lori took
hold of the shaft, lifting her bottom and keeping her pelvis off mine as
she rubbed the head against her wet pussy.  I took the hint and thrust
forward, Lori dropping down at the same time to impale herself on my
throbbing erection, hissing happily as I slid into her.
   "Ohhh yes, Davey, oh God, yes, that's what I like!" she groaned,
rotating her hips as I thrust into her, riding me as I pumped into her. 
She pushed herself upright, planting her knees solidly on the bed on either
side of me, with her hands on my chest supporting herself.  This brought
her lovely tempting tits within reach, and I took full advantage of that
fact, holding and squeezing her firm, protruding breasts and solid, stiff
nipples.  Lori groaned as I gently rubbed, pinched, and squeezed those
beautiful nipples, her face flushing as she rode me harder, her crotch
grinding against mine as she approached her orgasm.
   She came with a loud groan, her pussy rippling and squeezing me almost
unbearably tightly as her orgasm hammered through her, my lower belly slick
with the sweet juices pouring out of her as she shuddered and writhed above
me.
   Lori slumped down on me, her heart hammering as she caught her breath,
eventually raising up to kiss me, my solid cock still embedded in her.
   "Christ, that was quick!" she grinned, "I must have been really ready
for you!  What do you want baby?  I know what I want you to do to me, you
wanna go there?"
   I looked into her eyes.
   "Whatever you ask, baby, what do you want?" I asked her, grinning; as
though I didn't know!
   Lori grinned and licked my lips lightly.
   "Just like Mom, baby...!"
   I knew immediately what she meant, and my cock gave another muscular
twitch inside her, making her grin.
   "And I know someone else who wants this too...!" she whispered, smiling
sexily.  "Make me ready, Davey, please!"
   To hear was to obey, and Lori climbed off me to lie face down on the
bed, sliding a pillow under her tummy to raise her rump off the bed.  I
slid up behind her, pulling open her thighs to find my target, her juicy,
swollen vulva.  I bored in, my tongue flattened to lick the whole length of
her gaping slit, making her writhe and murmur happily.  As usual, she
smelled spicy and sweet, like a Christmas kitchen, the scent driving me on,
as always, and I moved in again, licking and teasing, tasting her juices as
they flowed from her wet vulva, until I worked my way to the back of her
slit to her perineum.
   I took hold of her thighs, pulling her into me as I licked and teased
her perineum, occasionally stabbing my tongue into her pussy, getting an
"Oh, Oh, OH!" each time I did that, until I felt she was ready for why I
was down here.  As I lightly licked her perineum, enjoying the little jumps
and quivers she gave every time I did that, I moved my attention a little
higher, until I was licking and gently kissing around her tightly-creased
little rosebud, her buttocks quivering every time I breathed or lightly
flicked my tongue over it.  As I concentrated on her little pucker, Lori
began wriggling and shivering.
   "Davey, don't fucking tease me, you know what I want, just do it!" she
hissed.  I of course ignored her; this was my time to play, and I was doing
it my way.
   "Davey, if you don't...ooohhh!" she groaned as I shoved my tongue into
her tight anus, pulling her lovely plush buttocks apart as I did so,
stretching her hole open for my delight.  She kept up the litany of
whispered moans and sighs as I rimmed her, allowing my saliva to run down
my tongue and coat her anus, where my tongue-tip pushed it inside her,
making her hole slick, spongy, and loose, ready for my cock.
   I withdrew, leaning up over her, taking my weight on my hands as I slid
my cock into her damp, swollen pussy, making her hiss at the sudden
invasion.  I pumped a few times, but I wasn't riding this hole, I was just
lubricating my cock for what was coming next, Lori pushing back against me
and murmuring discontentedly, also eager for the main event.
   I slid out of her and rested the head of my cock against her slick anus,
slowly jabbing to get it seated, Lori reached back and held me in position
as I pushed forward, her sphincter resisting me at first, then slowly
giving way as my bone-hard cock slid past her ring, which snapped tight
around my shaft.  Lori gave a low cry at that, but whether of pain or
delight it was difficult to tell.  I stopped pushing, waiting for her
signal, and when she began pushing back against me I resumed pushing
forward, slowly sliding my entire length into her glove-tight, sinewy arse.
   "That's it baby, oh God yes, fuck me, fuck my ass, oh Christ that feels
good, yess, yes, harder, Davey, please..."she muttered as I began slowly
pumping in and out of her, her arse resisting as I withdrew, the way back
in always easier and somehow sexier.  As I buggered my sister, the image
once again flashed through my memory, that scene so long ago, of seeing
Charlie, my step-father, doing this to my mother; Lori had said she'd seen
it several times when my mother and her father had woken her up with their
rutting, and she'd gone to their bedroom door to see the same thing,
Charlie hammering his cock in and out of my mother's anus.  Now her son was
doing it to Charlie's daughter, her son was fucking her daughter in her
tight anus for all he was worth.
   "Top of the world, Ma!" I muttered as I rammed my cock into her tight,
sinewy rectum.
   I lowered myself down to my elbows so I could slide my hands under her
ribcage to hold and squeeze her firm, protruding breasts, her nipples hard
as bullets, and her firm, pneumatic buttocks bouncing and springing against
my lower belly as I pounded against her.  I could feel her rectum rippling
and squeezing as she responded to the crude, primitive sex we were
indulging in, her entire body trembling and quivering as we fucked.
   The pressure on my cock was tremendous; all I wanted to do was explode
inside her, fill her hot arse with my spunk, and then do it again.  Lori
was obviously feeling the same way; I could see her neck and shoulders
flushing as her orgasm approached, the pleasure building for her in waves
that rippled through her body and into mine, joined as we were.
   When her orgasm finally crashed through her she screamed in release,
shuddering as her anal ring clamped down on me, her uterus beating against
my cock, separated as it was by only a thin membrane; every nuance of her
orgasm, the fluttering of her cervix as it convulsed, the rippling,
squeezing of her rectum, was transmitted to my embedded cock, and it was
too much to bear.  I felt my head swell up and wedge tightly inside her,
even as her ring clamped down tight around me, and I came in a white fury
of release so intense it drowned out and shut down all my other senses,
blurring my vision and making my ears pop, while my body flooded hers with
what felt like gallons of sperm, my spunk spraying out of me and into her,
coating her bowels with my seed.
   I slumped down against her, careful to take my weight on my elbows, and
kissed her gently between her sleek shoulder-blades, waiting to get my
breath back.  My cock eventually softened and slid from her, leaving a
trail of spunk out of her and down her thighs.  Lori rolled over and looked
at me, one eyebrow raised and her eyes dancing as she grinned.
   "Now that, Doctor-man, is what I call a good ole-fashioned Iowa assfuck;
you British shore know how to make a country-girl feel right at home!" she
drawled, "My ass feels like someone done snuck up and hammered a big ole
stump in there!"
   I laughed out loud, her Rabelaisian, bawdy, vulgar and very funny sense
of humour getting to me once again.  We kissed and cuddled for a while,
until Lori decided that she needed to take a shower.  She grabbed hold of
my cock, which looked like it needed a retread, and shook it threateningly
   "And I mean a shower, alone, just me, so you stay put, or your ass is
gonna feel like mine, got it, sweetie?"
   I saw the glint in her eye, and to be honest, I was too fucked to
misbehave anymore that evening; all I wanted was to sleep, so she could
shower to her heart's content; I was suddenly overwhelmingly in love with
my bed, and nothing was going to part us, so I yawned, kissed her, and
passed-out.
   I awoke the following morning to the sight of Lori sitting at the window
watching the red double-decker buses and black taxi's hurtling around
Marble Arch and jockeying like lunatics down Park Lane, a cup of coffee in
her hand, and yes, once again she was naked except for my shirt.
   "Good morning, husband!" she grinned, obviously catching the movement as
I stirred out of the corner of her eye.  She stood up and walked toward the
bed, her unconscious strut in full evidence as she hip-swayed toward me.
   "I think there's someone famous staying here; there are TV vans and
crowds of photographers outside.  London is amazing, Davey, can we come
here as often as possible?  I think I could spend the rest of my life
sightseeing and exploring here; no wonder Americans go into raptures about
this place; look at it!  And you have the sheer blasé indifference to treat
it as the place you work and nothing special!  Life is too good for you;
you should have been an earwig!"
   I reached out and stroked her smooth flank, enjoying the warm silkiness
of her skin, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh and feeling her life
and vitality sparkle underneath.
   "Oh no you don't!" she laughed.  "We're going sightseeing and Jimmy's
due here on the dot of 9 o'clock, it 8 o'clock now, so get your ass out of
there, Doctor Man, get in the shower, and get ready, you can have a coffee
when you're done, now move it, mister!"
   I dragged myself of the bed, knowing she was right, tempted to throw a
'domineering women/arse-scratching/farting' comment in her direction, but I
remembered what she'd done to me the last time I threw that one at her...
   I decided to have a quick shower; I wanted to grab a breakfast in the
restaurant before we went out for the day, so time was limited.  Sure
enough, 20 minutes later I was showered, shaved, powdered, pressed, lightly
polished, and smelling like a manly man, according to the overpowering
cologne I'd picked up at the airport.  Lori was taking her time getting
dressed, after having rushed me along, so I decided to duck down to the
lobby and have a quick read of the paper while I waited for Jimmy.  Telling
Lori what I was doing, I jumped in the elevator down to the Ground floor.
   The Reservations Desk had a stack of various newspapers, so I picked up
one of the tabloids, planning on reading the sports pages, but the
headlines screamed at me.  30 seconds later I was bursting into the room.
Lori looked up in surprise, but something in my expression stopped her dead
in her tracks.
   "Davey...Davey, what's wrong, honey?"
   I held out the paper.
   "Baby, your fame is spreading again...!"
   There, on the front page of the tabloid was a picture of the so-called
TV celebrity the previous night being head-butted by Jimmy, and an inset
picture of Lori, looking extremely hot, I had to admit.  The headlines
screamed;
   SEX-PEST GETS NOSE JOB!
   Underneath, in smaller heading;
   "TV SEX-PEST BEATEN BY HUSBAND AND BODYGUARD OF MYSTERY BEAUTY!"
   Lori sat down heavily on the bed.
   "Oh.  My.  God.  Oh, Fuck Davey, no, no, no, no.  Shit!  What are we
gonna do, Davey?"
   I tried to lighten the mood.
   "Well, at least we know who all those photographers and TV vans are
for!"
   Lori glared at me.
   "This is not fucking funny, Laughing Boy!  It's not your face on the
front page!"
   I sat next to her and hugged her.
   "But they got your best side, too...!" I murmured in her ear, making her
grin.
   Lori picked up the paper and read through the copy, smiling as she read
to the end.
   "Look, says here he was asked to desist, but tried to accost her several
times, even after he was rebuffed by her and warned away by her husband. 
Apparently I'm an "unknown American beauty", sounds about right to me, and
I'm famous now, so don't you forget it, Denham, you lowly nobody!"
   I grinned at her.
   "It's a good thing they don't know just what you were doing last night
after all this kicked-off, then!"
   She grinned back at me, blew me a kiss and turned to the next page.  One
of the paparazzi had managed to snap a full-length shot of the two of us,
and there were the usual tabloid mini-headings asking who she was and why
did she need a bodyguard, and one interesting snippet; apparently 12 other
women had come forward with complaints about this bloke, and another piece
editorialising about bodyguards, bemoaning their necessity these days, and
ending by trumpeting that women had a right to protect themselves from
unwanted attention, and that our chum had pretty much got what he deserved.
   Just then there was a knock on the door.  I looked through the viewer to
see Jimmy standing there, so I let him in.  He immediately tried to
apologise for the furore that his handling of that little dick had created,
but Lori wouldn't have it.
   "I was there, and I'd have done the same thing, only I'd have punched
him in the throat as well and watched him strangle, disgusting little
prick! None of us knew this would happen, you were protecting us, so
please, let it go, I already have!"
   Jimmy grinned ruefully.
   "I don't think you're going to get much sightseeing done today, not with
that bunch of vultures waiting to ambush you!  I can get you out of here,
though; the hotel has a loading bay at the back, it's where I parked when I
saw the mob waiting out there; no-one's going to see you going out that
way, so where do you want to go?"
   Lori looked at me enquiringly; Jimmy was right; we had to get out of the
public eye for a couple of days, until the next sensation broke and she was
forgotten, and I knew just the place.
   "Get your stuff, baby, we're going to Denham Hall; that's the last place
anyone would think of looking for the mysterious "Unknown American Beauty",
unquote!"
   Lori grinned and gave me the finger, making Jimmy grin too.
   As Lori and Jimmy collected our stuff together, I called down to the
manager, explaining that staying there was now out of the question, and
that we'd be leaving.  He was very understanding, and agreed that leaving
via the Loading Bay was the best solution, so, as they already had our card
details, I settled the account and a Customer Service Rep came up to the
room to assist with our luggage.
   Once we were safely in the car, the gates were opened and we were away,
the press waiting at the main entrance none the wiser.  Our destination was
the small village of Meadenham, deep in the heart of rural Oxfordshire,
miles from the nearest motorway, flight path or anything even vaguely
touristy, slightly chocolate-boxy, but still pretty much the village that
time forgot, sort of like Brigadoon, but with much less attractive people
living there, so very few strangers or visitors wandering around; the ideal
place to lie low and wait it out.
   Jimmy and I chatted as he drove, swapping stories, he telling me about
his life as a Royal Marine Commando, his adventures in The Falkland
Islands, Bosnia, Iraq, and me telling him about my early life growing up in
Oxfordshire and moving to Iowa when I was five when mother remarried, then
coming home at 16 to take my exams and try and earn a place in medical
school.  I learned his surname was Roberts, he was 35, single and lived
alone.
   Lori kept up a steady flow of comments, wisecracks and sharply observed
statements, reducing Jimmy and me to helpless laughter; she really was
irrepressible, obviously that business back at the hotel hadn't affected
her to any great degree, thank God!
   Denham 'Hall' is actually a couple of miles from the village proper, in
its own grounds, 50 acres or so of meadows, exciting trees and copses for a
little boy to play 'Robin Hood' and hunt dragons in, and a collection of
semi-derelict worker's cottages at various locations around the main house;
I'd never actually been in any of them; father and mother had sat me down
and told me to keep out of them at all costs, and I immediately thought it
was because trolls or goblins lived in the cellars there, scaring me away;
actually, it was because the floorboards and staircases were mostly rotted
through, so the floors were dangerous.  Still, for a long time after I had
dreams about the trolls and goblins in the basement, which kept me out of
the root-cellar back in Des Moines for years...
   We arrived at almost lunchtime, so I promised Lori a quick tour of the
house, then off to the pub in the village to try out their grub before
settling in at the house.  When we stepped out of the car, Lori swept the
place with her eyes, her gaze missing nothing.  She pulled off her
sunglasses and looked frankly at me.
   "Darling Boy, when I saw pictures of this place years ago, when we were
young, I thought it was ugly and creepy, and I was real glad I never lived
here; now I think I've revised my opinion.  Davey, it's hideous and creepy,
how the hell did you not run screaming from this place every night?  What
an eyesore, I mean...look at it, what a dump!"
   I wagged my finger at her mock chidingly.
   "Now, now, Mrs.  Denham, that's no way to speak of our child's ancestral
home!"
   Lori grinned at me, sliding her sunglasses back on and raising her head
to look down her nose at me.
   "If you think I'm ever going to be moon-calf enough to bring any child
of mine within a hundred yards of this Gothic horror story you've got
another think coming!  Look, even Jimmy's gone pale!  If this place can do
that to one on England's finest, what do you imagine it'll do to my baby?
Nope, this is top of my 'Avoid at all costs' list, so paste that inside
your hat, 'Mr.  Denham'!"
   True enough, Jimmy had gone pale staring at the sombre, ugly facade of
crumbling limestone, with every Palladian building reference shoehorned
haphazardly into the design of the place, as though my loony ancestor who
built it had sat down and looked at every stately home in England and
picked out the bits he'd liked from all of them, with all the bits that
said 'style', 'elegance', 'symmetry' and 'harmony' somehow being left out,
and only the silly things left in; I could almost hear him saying "It's my
house, so I'll build it the way I want!"
   So that's what he got, a mish-mash.  There were lancet windows, Tudor
mullions, medieval gargoyles and angels, obviously looted from some nearby
church roof, Norman arches, Gothic arches and flying buttresses, Greek
revival columns with a jarring mix of Doric, Ionic, and Corithian flutes,
capitals, bases, entablatures and abacuses, and, horror of horrors, a
battlemented roof, complete with a Widow's Walk.  Just looking at the house
was like walking through someone else's headache...
   Inside it wasn't so bad; mother had insisted on making the place at
least marginally habitable, so things like central heating and windows that
actually fitted had been installed, and the place was still fully
furnished; most of the furniture was too bulky, old, or just plain ugly for
mother to want to take to America with us, so it had been left in the
house, and the caretaker service retained by the trustees had kept the damp
and rot mostly at bay.  Periodically bits still fell off though, and at the
back of the house was a pile of mouldering sandstone blocks, mouldings,
gargoyle heads, angel's noses, and interestingly shaped genitalia off the
various male nudes nailed, mortared, or wedged onto the outside of the
building; clearly, whoever had carved those things had never actually seen
one, possibly not even their own, or came from some strange place where all
men had odd-looking pee-pee's...
   I had the keys, so we wandered inside, and Jimmy was just bringing in
some of the cases while Lori was examining a painting of one of my 'less
criminally insane than most' ancestors, when a soft voice right behind me
nearly made me wet myself.
   "Hello David, welcome back!"
   Lori gave a small scream as she jumped too, and I spun around, shoulder
up against whatever was right behind me, to look in puzzlement at a girl
about my age, with shoulder-length, dark golden hair and brown eyes, not
outstandingly pretty, but not plain or ugly, just...unremarkable.  She
looked familiar, and I stared at her as memory unreeled to place her.
   "Rosie?" I asked, almost sure, but I still had to ask.  "Oh my God,
Rosie, what...how...why...!" I gabbled, and she grinned at me.
   "Slow down, Robin Hood!  There, that's better.  How are you David?"
   Lori took my hand, and I remembered my manners.
   "Rosie, I'd like you to meet my wife, Lori.  Lori, this is my cousin,
Rosamund Fitzhugh-Denham, Rosie for short."
   Rosie smiled again and took Lori's hand.
   "I'm glad to meet you.  You're very pretty, David's a very lucky boy!"
   Lori blushed prettily, not knowing what to say, and just then Jimmy came
in, a pair of cases under his arms.  Rosie's eyes flicked to him then
stayed there, transfixed.  Jimmy stopped dead, likewise transfixed, while
Lori and I gaped at the suddenly increased level of non-verbal
communication going on in the room.  The two of them stared at each other,
Lori and me staring at them, until Lori nudged me, breaking me out of my
study of the two of them.
   "Rosie...Rosie...ROSIE!" I called her, Rosie giving a little start as
she came back from wherever she'd been, blushing scarlet and grinning
ruefully.  Jimmy blushed and fumbled the two cases he'd been hold onto the
ground, started to say something, then turned and fled back outside, still
blushing furiously.
   "Sorry about that David, but who's that?" she asked, seemingly
nonchalantly.  Lori caught my eyes as she grinned knowingly.
   "That's Jimmy, he's with us, why did you want to know?" I answered,
trying not to grin.
   "No reason!" she answered me, blushing furiously all over again.  Lori
nudged me, harder, so I decided to quit teasing the poor girl.
   "So why are you here then, Maid Marian?" I asked her, Lori looking at me
questioningly, so I explained.
   "Rosie lives down the road in Meadenham, and we grew up together.  We
used to play 'Robin Hood' in the woods here, I was Robin and Rosie was Maid
Marian.  Rosie's grandfather was my grandfather's youngest brother, so
she's my second-cousin.  We went to school together in the village for a
little while, then father died, and mother remarried and we went to America
with her new husband, so..."
   (Note how I "explained" things to Lori so Rosie didn't pick up any hint
about how I met her in the first place; Rosie didn't need to know about
that part of our relationship, oh no!)
   I looked back at Rosie.
   "So once again, what are you doing here, Rosie, you hate this place as
much as I do!"
   Rosie looked sheepish.
   "I saw the papers this morning, and you could have knocked me down with
a feather when I saw you with that beautiful girl, and I thought to myself,
"David's going to go to ground, where would he hide?" Of course I knew
immediately you'd hole-up here, miles away from anyone, so I thought I'd
come and say hello, seeing as I haven't seen you since you were five...!"
   So when she asked about Jimmy, she already knew who he was? 
Interesting...
   I grinned at her.
   "After all these years, you still know me so well!  How did you get in?"
   She held up a bunch of keys.
   "When the caretaker service leaves in the evenings, they turn on the
alarms and drop the keys off with mummy, so I picked them up this morning
and came on up to wait for you.  I have the alarm codes, so I unset them
and waited, in the garden, actually; I'm not staying in this gruesome
mortuary by myself, not for a big bloody clock!"
   She'd reminded me of something.
   "Rosie, how are your parents, how are Uncle Jerry and Aunt Sybil?"
   Rosie looked sad for a moment.
   "Daddy died, of a heart attack, nearly five years ago.  It was sudden,
but I don't think he even felt it, which is a blessing, I suppose; at least
he didn't suffer.  Mummy still lives in the same place, with my brother and
me.  Adam was born a year or so after you left, so you don't know him, he's
at university now; he wants to be a banker, like Richard and Hugo, did you
ever meet them?"
   I was saddened to hear of Uncle Jerry's death, and Lori and I both gave
our condolences; he was always good at playing soldiers with me, I remember
Aunt Sybil telling me he wanted a boy one day, I was glad he'd had a son.
Also, my interest was piqued by her mention of Richard and Hugo; they were
Aunt Sophie's sons.
   "I never did meet Richard and his brother, but I know their parents;
Aunt Sophie was a witness when Lori and I got married in America; we're
getting married in church here, Aunt Sophie's organizing it and Uncle
Richard is going to give her away.  I'd really like to meet Richard and
Hugo; do you know how to contact them?"
   Rosie smiled.
   "Of course I do!  They're my cousins too, you know!  They live in
Chipping Norton, near all those ghastly media people, so not a million
miles away; they stop by all the time to see mummy; they sort of keep an
eye on her, help her out now and then, and Adam doesn't have any student
loans, so I suspect they're paying for his uni; I know they paid for her to
go on holiday last year; they're lovely thoughtful boys, but they drive far
too fast in those sports cars of theirs!"
   Obviously Richard and Hugo took after their parents, and I couldn't wait
to meet them.  But first, I wanted to introduce my lovely wife to my aunt
Sybil, the only aunt I actually remembered well from my childhood, as I
used to see her all the time, she and my uncle Jerry, father's first
cousin. All the other aunts were a collection of grim old gorgons whose
reputation preceded them by quite a long way; I remember mother used to get
quite vocal about some of them...
   All I knew was, there was no way on this green earth I was going to let
any of those poisonous old ratbags anywhere near my sweet wife; to do so
would be to sully her permanently.
   Lori looked enquiringly at Rosie.
   "How did you recognise David in the papers?  You said you last saw him
when you were five years old."
   Rosie grinned back.
   "David looks exactly like Uncle David; it really is quite amazing how
much like his father he is; look, I want to show you something..."
   She took Lori's hand and led her into the study, where she pointed to
the large framed painting over the fireplace.  I felt a lump in my throat
as I looked at my father again, as I remembered him when he used to swing
me up and sit me on his motorbike saddle, Charlie and him laughing as I
twisted the throttle and made 'brrmm, brrmm!' noises.  He was standing with
his hands on mother's shoulders as she sat in front of the fire in the
drawing room.  I could feel my eyes stinging as I saw them together again,
as I remembered them, so young and happy, mother's hand on his as it rested
on her shoulder.  Lori reached out and took my hand as she gazed raptly at
her mother again, young, beautiful, before so much had happened to change
her world.
   "Rosie's right, Davey, it's incredible; you look just like him!"she
murmured.  I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak.  Rosie touched my
arm gently.
   "We heard about Aunt Jane, David, I'm so sorry; the trustees notified
mummy that she'd been given Aunt Jane's power of attorney here in England
and handed all the keys and stuff over to her, and mummy's been keeping an
eye on the place since, wondering if you were ever going to come back.
   Something seemed to occur to Rosie, as she turned to stare at Lori.
   "And you look just like Aunt Jane; my God, you could be her twin, you
look almost exactly like her!"
   Lori moved to head this off quickly; Rosie was obviously pin-sharp, she
didn't want her drawing any conclusions just yet.
   "I also look just like Aunt Sophie; apparently Denham men have some very
particular tastes!" she grinned, drawing a smile from Rosie.
   "I'll say!" she agreed, "They say everyone has a double somewhere, and I
think I've just met Aunt Jane's!  How eerie, especially in this frightful
place!"
   I was still staring at my parents' picture; I'd only ever been back here
a few times since I'd come back to England, mainly to sign paperwork once
I'd reached eighteen, and never into the study; something had always kept
me out, but now a wash of memories were bubbling inside me, of sitting at
my father's desk and playing with the boxes of painted lead soldiers kept
in the window-seat, of standing on the window-seat when it was raining,
peering out at the rain with my nose pressed to the window pane and wishing
the rain away so I could go outside and play, and lying on the floor in
front of the fire with my colouring book and crayons while mother, father
and Charlie sat by the fire in the big wing-backed chairs and chatted.
   The sound of someone knocking at the study door snapped me out of my
reverie.  Lori reached up and thumbed my eyes dry, then softly brushed my
cheek for a second while Rosie answered the door, withdrawing in blushing
confusion as Jimmy came in.
   "Where do you want me to put the cases, Doctor Denham?" he asked, never
taking his eyes off Rosie as she deliberately stared out the window.  I
decided to help things along a little, helped a little by Lori tapping my
ankle sharply with the silver toe of her cowboy boot.
   "Rosie, may I present James Roberts, Jimmy to his friends; Jimmy, my
cousin Rosamund Fitzhugh-Denham, Rosie to her friends."
   Rosie held out her hand, Jimmy engulfing it his massive paw and shaking
hands gently, almost as though he was afraid of hurting her.  Rosie blushed
again as Jimmy stammered and stuttered his way through an introduction,
then turned to me.
   "Where do you want the cases, Doctor Denham?" he repeated.
   "Take them upstairs, Jimmy, I'll give you a hand," I replied, "and my
name's David, I thought we established that!"
   He grinned apologetically as he picked up two cases, followed by me with
two, Lori with her vanity case, and Rosie bringing up the rear carrying the
dress case.  We dumped all the cases in the master bedroom, and then I
toured Lori around the rest of the rooms, deliberately leaving Jimmy and
Rosie to have that excruciating first conversation that all couples who
instantly fancy each other need to have but don't know how to start...
   While the two of them were hemming and hawing I took Lori down and
showed her the rest of the house.  Mother had decorated the drawing room,
the main sitting room, and the dining room, as well as some of the
bedrooms. The rest of the rooms were still as they'd been the last time my
grandfather had the place decorated, probably sometime in the 1950's.
   Lori walked around examining and touching, looking doubtfully at the
paintings of my ancestors, all of them with that strained, constipated look
disreputable people have when they're trying their best to look
respectable, but I knew better; mother had given me the real background to
most of them, not the official 'family' version, so I knew each one of
those slave-trading, gun-running, mass-murdering, land-grabbing, pillaging,
piratical rapists intimately.  There were a few good ones, I had to admit,
some philanthropists, scientists (or 'natural philosophers' as they liked
to refer to themselves), and their collections and curiosity cabinets were
still dotted the house, filled with collections of the odd, the strange,
the weird, and the bloody scary, collected from all parts of the world. 
One of them, who fancied himself as an anatomist, liked to collect bones,
and I still had the occasional nightmare about the time I opened one of the
dozens of small doors in the attic and stumbled into a room filled to
bursting with grinning skulls; my screams brought mother running, and the
next day father had that door nailed-up; for all I knew, it still was.
   I kept the biggest surprise for last.  As we walked across the courtyard
to what had been the coach-house back in the days of phaeton's, gigs, and
landau's, Lori pointed out the new-looking barn behind it.  The coach-house
used to be father's consulting rooms when he worked from home, and it had
been kept spruce by the caretaking company.
   There were two medium-sized bedrooms and a comfortable sitting room
there, a self-contained bathroom, a kitchenette, and father's old office,
and I wanted to ask her if she'd rather stay there than in that echoing
creep-show of a main house, but Lori was curious about the barn, wanting to
know why it looked so new, so we went there instead.  I explained that the
trustees had built it, because of what was inside it.  She was bursting
with curiosity, so I undid all four locks, Lori remarking that it was
unusual for a barn to have such a heavy door.
   "Ah, Mrs.  Denham," I said; "that's because it's not really a barn; it
just looks like one.  Everything inside here belongs to you now, baby, I
just want you to know that before we go in, do you agree?"
   Her eyes narrowed.
   "You know I never agree to anything without knowing what it is first, so
quit screwing around, Davey; just show me what's in there or let's go back
to the house; I need to eat, soon, so get a move on!"
   Grinning at her forthrightness, I slid the door open, and Lori gasped at
the sight; there, in silent, gleaming splendour, was my father's car
collection, cars I remember him and Charlie tinkering with, revving-up, and
occasionally disappearing for hours on end in.  I ran my hand over my
favourite; my great-grandfather's green Bentley Speed Six, bought new by
the old boy in 1933.  Next to it was mother's British Racing Green 1951
Jaguar XK120 C-type, a wedding present from my grandfather, always kept
gleaming, but never driven by her; instead, she drove the low-slung shiny
yellow Triumph Stag parked next to it, still looking for all the world like
it was in the pits at Le Mans or ready to take a stab at the Nurburgring.
My father's everyday car, a white 1973 Jensen Interceptor was parked next
to that, and over in the corner one of my father's favourite cars; his
British Racing Green 1972 Morgan 4/4 Tourer, still looking new and ready to
roll; he and Charlie used to spend all day in or under that car, then
disappear in it to a pub somewhere and talk about it.  Another of their
projects, a half-completed restoration of a 1960's Lister-Jaguar racer was
sitting on stands, all the parts and body panels piled in a pair of
trailers next to it.  Parked a little way from it was Charlie's own
favourite; a red 1959 Austin Healey Frogeye Sprite with the detachable
hard-top that I remember he and father zooming around the country lanes in
wearing their RAF leather flying jackets and looking very dashing.  Lori
was taken by the red 1963 Mini Cooper S with the white roof standing by
itself, running her hand over the gleaming paintwork.
   "It's so cute, Davey, what is it?" she smiled.
   "We think that's a Monte Carlo team car," I replid, "you can just see
the fade-marks in the paintwork over the radiator grille where the Monte
Carlo 1964 crown decal was.  I don't know if Paddy Hopkirk actually drove
it, but the other two that won Monte Carlo in 1964 are at the Heritage
museum in Gaydon; this is probably one of the reserve cars, that's why
there's no number on it, just white panes; father found it in a barn, I
think.
   Lori was lost in wonder, looking at all that classic street steel, and I
led her round to the two motorcycles parked side by side off in one corner.
She looked at me quizzically as I sat astride one of the bikes, a classic
Norton Commando 'Interpol' model, my father's machine, and patted the
saddle of the other bike, a much more glamorous machine in gleaming red and
pearlescent ivory metallic paint and a profusion of chromed and stainless
steel.  Lori looked strangely at me but sat sideways on the saddle, her
hand on the tank.
   "Davey, were these your father's as well?" she asked, and I smiled to
see her perched so awkwardly on that bike saddle, the bike I'd wanted so
much when I was a boy.
   "This was my father's bike," I replied, patting the tank.  "That one
you're sitting on, that's a 1979 Harley Davidson FLH Shovelhead.  It was
Charlie's bike, his 'hog' he used to call it, and it always made me laugh
to hear something so beautiful called a hog; I know now why, but then it
just seemed wrong to call it such an odd name.  I wanted that bike so much
when I was a little boy, and he always promised me that one day he'd get me
one.  After father died, he put it away in the old barn and never rode it
again."
   Lori traced the shape of the tank, the sweep of the bars, the bright
slick chromed binnacle down the centre line of the bulbous tank with the
tips of her fingers, her lips moving silently as she saw things I couldn't
see, talking to someone I couldn't hear, but she clearly could; the bike
was talking to her, telling her about her father, about the man I'd loved
as a father too, and still missed every single day.
   "This was daddy's bike?" she murmured, and I nodded, not wanting to
speak and break the spell.  She smiled as a single tear ran down her cheek
and splashed on the tank, where she wiped it off with her jacket cuff, her
eyes still unfocussed and far away, still seeing something I couldn't.  Her
head lifted and she smiled brightly at me, holding out her hand for me to
help her up.  As I did, she hugged me tightly.
   "Thank you Davey!" she whispered, "Now I can truly say goodbye to them
both at last!  Thank you for bringing me here to see where she came from,
and for letting me see this, and for keeping it so well for him!"
   My heart was overflowing with love for my beautiful sister.
   "Baby-girl, I know he was your father, but he was my dad too, just when
I needed one most; he knew I'd come back here one day, and so he left me
this part of himself to have when he was no longer around.  You don't have
to thank me; I should be thanking you; for saying yes, for having my baby,
and for coming home with me; now you're here, you can have this gift from
him as well; it's big enough to share, you know!  Everything else here are
just toys my father left behind; nothing here really means anything to me,
none of them except that red motorcycle; that was something from Charlie,
my dad, a message to say he'd always be around when I needed him.  And now
it's a message to you, too, that he's still here, sitting there when we
need him."
   Lori turned to look back at the motorcycle, her hand once more tracing
along the polished handlebar, before patting the tank once, then turning to
me and smiling.
   "You're right, Davey, it is a message; I can feel him when I touch that
bike, I can put my hands where he put his; as long as that bike's around,
he's around.  That's good.  And now, let's go find something to eat, I
really am famished, and so is poor Jimmy, by the look on his face!"
   I locked the barn again and we strolled over to the house, to find Jimmy
and Rosie waiting for us looking slightly less ill at ease and more
relaxed. Lori announced that it was time we had something to eat, she was
starving, and I was paying.  Rosie mentioned that the local pub, The White
Hart, did fairly good pub food, and offered to accompany us, with a shy
look at Jimmy, who immediately took the hint, so we all piled into the car
and Rosie directed us to the pub in question.
   The food was good and filling, Lori in particular discovering she
absolutely loved Shepherd's Pie.  Rosie asked us to detour over to her
home, as she knew her mother would want to see us.  I was more than happy
to comply; my Aunt Sybil was a happy memory for me; tall and dark blonde,
with golden-brown eyes, a captivating smile, and never too busy to sit and
play with me, or show me how to draw a cat, or a donkey, or a wizard; she
was an illustrator of children's books, and there was a collection of her
watercolours on the wall in the small library, a present to me when I was
born.
   Aunt Sybil was just as I remembered her; same hair, same smile, same
eyes; I remembered her as being so much taller, but then, I suppose, from
the perspective of a five-year old, everyone is impossibly tall.  I was
surprised to discover how much I'd missed her, this lady who was so much a
part of my childhood, a lump in my throat when I greeted her for the first
time in over 20 years.  She seemed to be feeling the same way, and so we
just looked at each other while memories crowded and hustled together. 
After an eternity, Sybil turned to greet Lori warmly, noting how much she
looked like my mother, saying how I must have searched far and wide to find
a girl who looked so like her, and Sophie, of course...
   It took all my willpower to not flush guiltily as my aunt compared Lori
to mother and Aunt Sophie, although I did get one or two penetrating
glances and slightly raised eyebrows from her.  After a while I noticed
Jimmy was missing, so I excused myself and went out to look for him,
finding him sitting in the car.  When I asked him what on earth he was
doing out there, he looked at me strangely.
   "Doc...David, it's obviously a family thing, I'd be intruding, so if
it's all the same to you, I'll wait out here; it's a fine day, I might have
a snooze in the car, you carry on, I'll be fine."
   I pooh-pooh'd that, and suddenly Rosie was there to back me up.
   "Jimmy, will you please come in and meet my mother, I know she'd like to
meet you!"
   Jimmy caved in at that, just as obviously smitten with her as she was
with him, so I left them there so Jimmy could escort her back inside.  When
I introduced Jimmy and the circumstances under which he came to be working
for us, Sybil grinned broadly.
   "I did see the story in the newspaper this morning, well done, young
man, I do hope you didn't hurt that boorish oaf too badly; I know what a
Royal Marine is capable of, my father served with the Commando's during the
war!"
   She smiled as she said this, relaxing Jimmy a couple of notches, and
Rosie visibly preened, smiling at Jimmy and getting a shy smile back. 
Sybil turned to me.
   "Apropos of which, your Aunt Bella was on the telephone early this
morning, fulminating about that story, ranting on about how you were
dragging the Denham name through the mud, and how she was going to give you
a piece of her mind, and so on.  Lord knows, I try to find something nice
to say or think about my mother-in-law, but I just can't help feeling we'd
all be better off if God would just quietly drop a gas-stove on her!  It's
a complete mystery why that old bag is still up and around haunting decent
people; why she can't just do the decent thing and fall off a cliff or get
herself abducted by aliens is quite beyond me...!  Anyway, David, be
warned, Bella and probably your Aunt Maude and those loathsome daughters of
hers will be descending on you at some point, so stand by to repel
boarders!"
   My heart sank; Maude was the daughter of my grandfather's cousin, and
her two horrible daughters Lavinia and Jennifer, Vinnie and Jeni for short,
had made my life miserable when I was small, so much so that mother had
eventually banned them from Denham Hall, which apparently caused no little
friction in the family; apparently Maude regarded the Hall as her ancestral
home (although none of her family had ever actually lived there, as they'd
married into an off-shoot of the family) and had taken loud and vocal
exception to being barred from it.  I couldn't really understand it; why
would anyone want that creepy mausoleum?
   I used to get nasty letters from her forwarded to me demanding that she
be allowed access to the place, but the trustees were of the opinion that
she just wanted to pillage the place, so enforced the ban mother had
stipulated when we left for America and denied her access for any reason,
even serving her with a Court order banning her from coming any closer than
500 meters, with a similar injunction being handed to her daughters; as far
as the Trustees were concerned, she wasn't me, so she and hers had no right
to be there.  If she'd been nicer about it, I'd have probably handed her
that grotesque place, with my blessing, and let her have the headache of
trying to keep it from collapsing...
   Sybil watched me as all this ran through my head, her expression showing
she knew exactly what I was thinking.  Rosie had also been a target of
Vinnie and Jeni's malice, which hadn't exactly endeared them to Sybil or
Uncle Jerry, who'd had to have a sharp word with his cousin about her
daughters' behaviour.  I think it's obvious by now that most of my family
were not the sort of people I would be socialising with any time soon. 
Sophie had been right to warn Lori and me to keep away from them.
   All too soon it was time to go back to the Hall, Rosie electing to come
back with us 'to help out', but it was obvious she just wanted to spend
more time with Jimmy; she even climbed into the front passenger seat, even
though the limousine had more than enough seats in the back.  We definitely
needed get ourselves sorted out for what could be a prolonged stay; I was
on indefinite leave from the hospital, but I needed to get back soon, so
Lori needed to start thinking about what kind of house she wanted, and
where.
   Richard would be retiring soon, and he and Aunt Sophie owned a house in
Little Brooking, a village about 10 miles from Denham Hall, so I suggested
we pick up a local directory and start calling Estate Agents to start
setting up some appointments to view properties near there that fitted her
requirements.  I asked Lori what she wanted in a house.
   "Davey, I want something old, but not decrepit,something interestingly
ramshackle I think, in need of some TLC, but with some age and solidity
about it, something we can make our own.  It must have at least four
bedrooms, big gardens, and lots of trees; I want our kids to have somewhere
to hunt dragons and be Robin Hood too.  We'll also need outbuildings, a
worker's cottage or coach-house like the Hall, somewhere for Jimmy to live,
as you promised him.  I also think we need to start thinking about removing
and storing the things in the Hall before they start disappearing, and
daddy's bike and your cars are going to need somewhere safe too.  If there
are some apple trees and a duck pond so much the better!"
   I looked in wonder at her; my glamour-girl was becoming a home-maker,
her eyes shining as she ticked-off the things she thought the perfect
country home would need to make it our own.  She grinned back at me.
   "Well, you asked, I told you!  Anything you want to add to the list,
Doctor Man?"
   I pulled her close and kissed her.
   "You forgot a nursery and a playroom for this baby and all the others I
want to have; I want this house filled with kids, and toys, and big soft
chairs and big floppy dogs, with big fireplaces for them to lie in front of
on cold evenings!"
   Lori smiled happily.
   "I think I'm going to like living here!"
   We arrived back at the house to find a large old car waiting at the top
of the lane, Maude's car, scrupulously outside the limit laid out in the
Court Order, and as we swept past, I caught a glimpse of Bella, a face once
seen never forgotten; mother had once confided that Bella was final proof
that the undead really did walk the earth...
   Jimmy looked back at me, wanting to know if he should stop, but I shook
my head; I was in no mood to expose my darling wife to the full gruesome
reality of what a lifetime of being a bitter old trout could turn a person
into, and from the look on Rosie's face, she was no mood to meet her
grandmother either; all I remembered clearly of Bella was that she was a
thoroughly unpleasant old woman, and apparently time hadn't mellowed her,
if Rosie's expression was anything to go by.
   Jimmy parked the car and jumped out to open the door for Rosie, making
Lori and I grin at each other, then he opened the door for Lori, handing
her out with a small apologetic grin.  Lori was trying her best to not
notice the increasingly intense looks he was exchanging with Rosie, who
looked back up the lane and nudged me.
   "David, battleaxe alert; look what's coming in for a landing!"
   I followed her gaze and there was Bella, hobbling down the lane toward
us, with an expression on her face that would have soured new milk.
   Rosie's face twisted into a grimace of dislike, Jimmy noticing the
change in her and moving to stand slightly in front of her.
   "Problem, Doc...David?" he murmured.
   Rosie fielded that one.
   "She's my grandmother, David's Great-Aunt Bella, and she's an obnoxious
old cow; daddy couldn't stand her; he used to say she must have blackmailed
my grandfather into marrying her, there's no other explanation, and that
grandfather deliberately died just to escape from her; there have been
times when I really did believe that.  She's just rude and nasty to
everyone, she's a disgusting old snob, and she hates David's family for
having what they have; she truly believes it should all belong to her;
she's got that in common with Maude; that's her car all the way up there;
thankfully we won't see her, she's banned from coming closer than 500
metres!"
   We stood and waited while the miserable old bat staggered up the lane
towards the house; I wondered aloud why she didn't just swoop in on her
broomstick, making Lori and Rosie giggle.  The old woman obviously heard us
laughing, and some instinct told her it was her we were laughing about,
which only served to tighten an expression you could already have used for
a Hallowe'en mask.
   As she approached closer she was able to see me more clearly, and the
expression changed to one of active dislike; I didn't care; as far as I was
concerned, she could turn around and bugger off, she wasn't welcome here.
Then she saw Lori, young, beautiful, tall, shapely, all the things she
wasn't, and her normally malicious expression intensified, becoming even
more annoyed when she spotted Rosie.
   "So you came back, David!" she wheezed, and I nodded; I wasn't going to
mince words with this old harridan, all I wanted was for her to go, now.
   "Hiding here, are you?  I saw the photographs in the newspapers, you're
a disgrace, brawling in public over this...this...girl, whoever she is!"
   OK that did it.
   I stepped forward, making her step back, her expression suddenly less
confidently malicious as I loomed over her.
   "First of all, you're trespassing, so clear off.  Secondly, that 'girl'
is my wife, and finally, since when has my behaviour, good, bad, or
indifferent, or that of any member of my family for that matter, been any
of your damned business?  I reserve the right to protect my family in any
way I see fit, and as you're not family, you have no right or place to
comment.  Please leave, we're busy and I have no time to stand her and
bandy words with the likes of you.  Go away, Bella!"
   Her eyes bulged with fury, and she sputtered, trying to say too many
things at once, at which point Rosie stepped in.
   "What do you want here, Bella?  I mean, really, what did you hope to
achieve?  David's right, you have no place here, and no right to be here;
anyway, shouldn't you be in your coffin during daylight hours?"
   Bella's face turned an interesting shade of purple as she sputtered, and
for one hopeful instant I really, really thought her head was going to
explode.
   "How dare you speak to me like that, you insolent little nobody?  I am
your grandmother, and you will address me as such!  And as for you, David
Denham, I'm sure the press would be very pleased to find out where you and
this so-called wife of yours are hiding!"
   Rosie grinned at her.
   "Why don't you tell them, Bella?  While you're about it, why don't you
tell them about your father, or your wonderful uncle?"
   She turned to me, still grinning.
   "She tells everyone her family was in shipping; the truth is, her father
was first mate on a night-soil boat, digging the stuff out of outhouses for
the tanneries to make leather dyes; he shovelled shit for a living.  And as
for her uncle, he was locked up after the war for being a profiteer, a
black-marketeer, and a pimp; I'm sure she'd be happy to share that little
snippet with the press as well, I know I would, given half a chance!"
   Bella had gone pale as Rosie spoke to me, and then Rosie turned back to
her.
   "Go away, Bella; this is not your family, and no-one here wants to hear
what you have to say; David and his wife want to settle-in, and you're
holding them up.  Why couldn't you just be nice, just this once?  Why did
you and that dreadful Maude creature have to come down here and confront
David?  What for?  He's done nothing to you, so what are you so het-up
over?"
   Rosie turned her back on her and walked away before Bella could reply,
slipping her arm through Jimmy's as he escorted her back to the house.
   Bella stood there, mouth opening and closing and saying nothing.  Lori
slid her arm into mine and stared interestedly at Bella, a little like a
scientist watching a three-legged chicken.  Bella tried to stare her down,
but Lori could face a charging rhino with a slightly raised eyebrow, and
Bella soon looked away in confusion.
   I'd had enough by now; after the fun the previous night, and the shock
of seeing ourselves plastered all over the tabloids this morning, the last
thing I wanted for Lori right now was for her to be exposed to this
poisonous old baggage, so I pointed at the gate, barring her way in case
she tried to speak to Lori or stand her ground.
   "I asked you to leave, Bella, now I'm telling you; get out, and don't
come back; you have no business here, nothing here belongs to you, and I
don't want you on my property again; if I see or hear of you coming here
again, I'll have you arrested for trespass."
   Lori looked at me with that raised eyebrow, and I knew I'd be in for
some questions once the old bag had done a bunk, but for now she stood
silently, her arm around my waist as we watched Bella stump back up the
lane to where Maude and her repellent daughters waited in their car, barred
by a Court Order from approaching the house.  Don't get me wrong; if she'd
been the slightest bit less aggressive and self-entitled I'd have had Jimmy
take her home, but she tried to beard me in my den, insulted my wife, and
tried to force her way into my property, so as far as I was concerned, she
could walk or crawl; I was done with her.
   After she climbed into the car, it backed away up the lane until it came
to the main road, turned, and was gone.  Lori turned to look at me, her
expression not happy at all.
   "David, that was an old lady; did you really have to be so rude to her?
I really thought you were better than that!  That was a shameful display, I
hope you're pleased with yourself!"
   She disengaged from my waist and stalked off inside the house, walking
past Rosie and Jimmy as they waited inside the vestibule.  I watched her in
dismay, wondering just what I'd done to annoy her so deeply; whatever it
was, I knew I had to clear the air quickly; it was never a good idea to let
her simmer like that.  I followed her into the house, Rosie patting me on
the arm as I hurried past her; she'd seen the look on Lori's face and knew
that something had offended her.  I found her in the study, looking at the
painting of my parents, studying mother's features intently.  She turned as
I came in, her features relaxed, but that slight narrowing of her eyes
belying her calm appearance.
   She turned back to once again study the painting, and reached up to
touch it gently.
   "So tell me David, what was all that about?"
   David again; she really was mad at me.  I thought quickly, and decided
that she might as well hear the whole story.
   "Lori, I'm sorry you had to see that; I wasn't going to pop at her, I
just don't like having her around me, especially as she came here solely to
intimidate and bully; Bella is a nasty, bitter, devious and deceitful
person.  Mother told me all about her before I left, to put me on my guard,
and the trustees filled in a lot of the blanks, because mother knew I'd
have to do something about this place one day, and deal with the various
family members who think they have an axe to grind with us.  She showed me
the letters and documents Bella tried to foist on the trustees; she even
tried to claim that my father was illegitimate, and that her husband was
the rightful heir to this ramshackle crypt you see around you; I don't care
so much about that, if she wants this place she can have it, it's one less
headache for us, believe me!"
   Lori grinned faintly at that; good, she was thawing!  I continued with
my explanation of the convoluted history between my immediate family and
Bella the Bitch.
   "What she also did though, the thing that pissed-off the family with
her, was to forge a whole bunch of letters purporting to be from mother to
her lover, my supposed real father, claiming that I wasn't a real Denham,
that I was illegitimate too.  The trustees investigated, and discovered
fairly quickly that the letters were forgeries, and were preparing to have
her arrested for attempted fraud; apparently, with me discredited, she
could go about claiming the trust funds, or a portion of them, as one of
father's heirs; mother stopped them, because she took pity on that
hatchet-faced madwoman, but the problem with feeling sorry for someone like
Bella is they take it as a sign of weakness."
   I paused for breath, and noted that Lori was looking less hostile and
more relaxed, so I continued.
   "Apparently, when mother married Charlie, Bella was incensed; she
started claiming that Charlie had married mother to get his hands on my
inheritance, this apparently in spite of the fact she was trying to prove I
was illegitimate.  Bella wants all the Denham legacy for herself, so she
can live like the Dowager Duchess of Kiss-My-Arse.  She's bonkers, but not
in an "olde-worlde, sweetly eccentric old aunt who keeps cats" sort of way;
no, she's malicious, just stupid enough to be dangerous, and she'll stop at
nothing; she even tried to claim Rosie wasn't Uncle Jerry's daughter, that
Sybil had an affair with a gardener or some such rubbish; this is her own
granddaughter, she was actually prepared to disinherit her only grandchild
to get her claws on whatever properties Uncle Jerry and Aunt Sybil have.  I
can show you the letters if you like, they're all in the bureau in the
sitting room."
   I paused, watching the expression on Lori's face, in her eyes, as the
whole loony story of Bella's schemes unreeled.
   "She came here today to assert her "rights", whatever she thinks they
are, and to insult and bully us.  I'm not having it; if she wants to pop at
me, she's welcome; I consider her more than marginally insane, but when she
tries to intimidate and look down her nose at you, that's where I draw the
line.  She came here to assert herself as head of the family, whatever that
means, and to give us a tongue-lashing, she got one instead, and one she
won't forget in a hurry, either.  Look at how she spoke to Rosie; do you
really want someone like that cosying up to us and our baby?  As far as I'm
concerned, if there is a 'Head' of the family, it's Uncle Richard, not her;
him I'll listen to; Bella can go take a running jump."
   By now, Lori was grinning as I finished telling her of the tricks Bella
had tried to get her hands on this dump, and she reached out to poke me
gently on the chin.
   "OK, point taken, she deserved what she got; I just never want to see
that side of David Denham ever again; my Doctor Man is a sweet, gentle man,
and he was a sweet, gentle boy, I like having him around!"
   I smiled happily.
   "Now you know why Richard and Sophie avoid them like the plague! 
Maude's no better, just more stupid; in fact, I'm tempted to chuck the keys
for this hellhole into the duck pond and let the two of them mud-wrestle
for possession; whoever drowns the other, they get to keep Denham Hall;
it's a win-win for me; I get rid of this bloody albatross around our necks
forever, and at least one of those old Harpies as a bonus; where's the
down-side?"
   Lori pealed out laughing, and stepped closer to hug me.
   "Maybe we should sell tickets, it could be a major local attraction!"
   I grinned back at her.
   "Not likely!  You've seen Bella, thankfully you've not met Maude; she's
got a face that would stop a clock; mother once said she's got a face like
a bulldog sucking a wasp, and I'd have to agree; she's scary ugly!"
   We walked back out to the main hall, Rosie and Jimmy looking relieved to
see us close again, and tried to decide what to do for dinner.  Rosie had
picked up some supplies in the village on her way up that morning, so we
debated whether to rough-it at the house or drive around until we found a
restaurant in one of the nearby villages.  Lori wanted to stay in, and
Jimmy elected to stay in the coach-house that night; he thought the guest
bedrooms were far too big, intimidating, and creepy, he felt more
comfortable in one of the smaller bedrooms in the coach-house; besides, the
bedrooms there had a commanding view of the driveway and the lane beyond,
so anyone trying to sneak into the place would be in full view, so that was
decided.  The fridge in the huge, echoing kitchen had eggs, bacon, bread,
milk and cheese, so Lori and Rosie whipped up some omelettes while we all
sat at the kitchen table and chatted while we ate a light supper.
   By now it was getting late, so Rosie asked Jimmy to take her home, which
of course he jumped at, so we all said our goodnight's and retired for the
night.  Lori and I stayed in what had been my mother's bedroom, and some of
her things were still there.  They reminded me sharply of her, but Lori had
never seen them, so there were no associations for her with the
vacuum-packed clothes hanging in the closets and the various trinket boxes
and bric-a-brac in the dresser drawers.  The caretaker service had left the
house pretty much as I remembered it; nothing was out of place, nothing had
been removed or replaced; even the paintings had been cleaned and restored;
they were certainly brighter and more legible than I remembered them as a
boy, not that it made any of them look any more respectable than before;
they were still the same villainous-looking bunch I knew and feared so
much...
   There was a painting on the wall in the dressing room that Lori
requested I take down; that of General Sir Andrew Denham, otherwise known
as 'Black' Andrew, General of the Royal Armies during the Civil War; he'd
switched sides when he'd figured out the Royalist's were losing, joined
Cromwell and the New Model Army, and wreaked havoc in Ireland, with his
habit of hanging everyone in sight; when the Restoration became imminent,
he fled the country, took ship with the Dutch and promptly sailed off to
pillage the Dutch and Portugese East Indiamen ships, amassing a huge
fortune, a large chunk of which he expended in buying himself a Royal
Pardon, after which he sailed off and began pillaging the Dutch and
Portugese ships all over again.
   It wasn't until the King married Catherine of Braganza, a Portugese
princess, that he was finally dragged off to the Tower of London and hanged
for piracy, slave-trading without a Royal Warrant, plundering, pillaging
and raping of coastal towns in the south of England when the piracy was a
little slack, and generally pissing-off the king.  The sight of him with
his long curly wig and expression of dissipated evil leering at her was too
much even for Lori's nerve, so he ended up facing the wall in the corridor
outside the bedroom.
   When I came out of the bathroom, there was a sight to stiffen anything
in sight; Lori, looking magnificent in just perfume and a pair of earrings.
My wife has an absolutely incredible body, and I normally waste no time in
examining it in minute detail, and tonight was no exception.  I wasted no
time in joining her on the bed, her hands reaching for me even as my hands
roamed and explored her like we'd not had sex in weeks, not just 24 hours
earlier.  She was ready for me; apparently the thought of making love in
her mother's bed had stirred some very un-wifely feelings in her.  She
pulled me close with a very dirty smile and an even dirtier look on her
face.
   "Davey, please don't call me wife or anything like that; tonight, I want
to be your sister; your dirty, wanton, slutty little sister fucking her big
brother in all the nastiest possible ways, OK?  Make me scream, Doctor Man,
use your imagination, but remember, tonight I'm not your wife; I'm your
sister!"
   I have to admit, the thought of playing with her appealed enormously,
and I was quite happy to treat her as my sister; after all, it's not like
it wasn't true...
   "Darling Lori, your wish is my command, sister of mine!  Now how do you
want it?  As I see it, you have three possible destinations for my cock,
where first?"
   Lori grinned at me, sliding down the bed until she was level with my
straining cock.  Grinning devilishly at me, she slipped her lips over the
end of my erect penis and gave a quick suck while gently scraping her teeth
along the sensitive bell.  As I groaned at the sensation, she sucked again,
once more lightly scraping her teeth over the end.  Much more of this and I
was going to come all over her, and I had plans for her that involved much
sweatiness, so I reluctantly pulled out of her mouth and pulled her back on
top of me.
   "What do you want, my darling naked big brother?" she grinned at me, her
blue eyes wide open and innocent.  They say the eyes are the windows of the
soul, and looking into those windows right now, far off in the distance, I
could see more than a hint of the inspired depravity she was so fucking
good at.
   "Little girl, I want to see your pee-pee, and maybe kiss your lovely
little pink stinky bullet-hole, so if you don't mind, get them up here
please!" I grinned at her.
   Lori smiled wickedly and spun around on me so her crotch was now inches
away from my face while her lips were back in proximity to my solidly erect
cock.
   "There you are, you naughty boy!" she leered, "Kiss anything you want,
you can even lick anything you like, just don't tell my husband, he thinks
only he's allowed to lick my lolly!"
   I inhaled her sweet scent, tangy and spicy, delicious and Christmassy,
and suddenly I wanted to burrow into her pussy, ream out her arsehole, and
fuck her like a rag-doll.  Lori picked up on the sudden change in me, and
shuffled backwards slightly, placing her enticing vulva directly in front
of my lips; I can never resist a direct invitation like that, and leaned up
slightly to lick her from the hood of her clitoris to her puckered little
anus, pointing my tongue and letting it poke slightly into that delicious
little pucker.  She jumped slightly, then purred contentedly, wriggling her
pussy against my mouth as she resumed suckling on me, her tongue lightly
rubbing the tip of my cock, not enough to send me over the edge, just
enough to keep me erect and sizzling nicely.
   I kept up my soft-edged assault on her pussy; she really did taste
divine, and every time I ate her, I just wanted more; she tasted sweet,
salty, tangy and spicy all at once, and that, combined with her tantalising
scent, had me in gourmet heaven as I gorged myself on her.  Lori meanwhile
kept her ministrations to a minimum, so I didn't go off too soon, and so we
licked, lapped, sucked and tasted, giggling, grunting and squealing as
various sensitive parts received an unexpected or extra-special tweak, lick
or suck.
   Lori gradually began to squirm more against me, her pussy forcing itself
harder and harder against my mouth as she approached her climax, her
giggles and squeals damped down as more heavy breathing took over; she was
almost there, as witness the steady outpouring of her delicious juices into
my ever-ready mouth, where I lapped and swallowed delightedly, enjoying
every drop of her deliciousness.  I could feel her heartbeat increasing in
her thighs clamped on either side of my head, as well as the tremors in her
body as she began to ascend to that place, the sudden ramping-up of her
delicious aroma as her level of arousal rose ever higher, and my own body's
response to the pheromones gusting out of her and into my system, cranking
up my limbic system for yet more truly mind-bogglingly good sex.
   As she began gasping, in the final throes of her ascent toward her
release, I pointed my tongue and pushed it as hard as I could into her
winking little anus, the firm rubbery flesh parting as it convulsed open,
while simultaneously rubbing her clitoris with the pad of my thumb as I
pushed it into her pussy.
   Lori came with a loud hissing scream, her hot juices spraying out of her
and across my neck, her pussy clasping and releasing my thumb as it
convulsed, and her tight little rosebud clamped down, forcing my tongue-tip
out of her tightness.  I responded by plating her pussy with my tongue,
long slow licks from clitoris to anus, feeling the soft wet flesh twitch
and shudder under my tongue as her orgasm rolled on and on.
   She slumped down on me, her breath loud and harsh in the sudden silence.
I could feel her pulse hammering in her thighs as they twitched and
shuddered on each side of my face, in her body as she lay flat on me, her
head resting on my upper thigh.  Eventually she stirred, lifting her head
and giving my cock a friendly squeeze.
   "Thank you Davey, that was fucking incredible, you should save some of
those for your wife, you know that?" she grinned impishly, looking much
younger than she really was, although the scenery from where I was standing
looked anything but young; it looked lush, inviting and womanly, and my
cock twitched as I surveyed all that luscious landscape.
   I took hold of her lovely firm peach buttocks and pulled them apart so I
could lick and then blow gently on her anus, watching the little puckered
rosebud twitch and contract.  Lori jumped slightly, then squeezed me in
acknowledgement as she grinned back at me.
   "I love it when you do that, you dirty, dirty boy!  What is my poor,
innocent husband going to say when he finds out about this; why, I won't
know where to put my face!"
   I grinned back at her as I massaged the marvellous mounds of her
glorious backside.
   "Don't worry about it, baby-girl; I'll have a little chat with him;
maybe we can come to some sort of agreement!"
   Lori looked back at me, her eyes hooded.
   "It's your turn now, Davey; what does my big brother want to do with his
naughty little sister?"
   For answer I pulled her around to face me, Lori moving up the bed to lie
next to me with her little hand wrapped tightly around my bone-hard
erection as we kissed, our tongues thoroughly exploring the other's mouth
in a frenzy of French-kissing.  As our lips and tongues moved against each
other, her hand slowly pumped me, setting me up for the next round.  I
wanted to fuck my sister so hard it was a physical need inside me, an
inescapable fact, an urge that I couldn't suppress or control much longer.
Lori sensed the need in me, her hand coming up to the back of my neck to
pull my face even closer to hers, the act of doing so rolling her onto her
back.  I slid over her to position myself between her thighs and broke our
kiss to look into her deeply violet eyes, seeing only love and my need
reflected there.
   "Love you, Doctor Man!" she whispered, and slipped her hand down to
guide me into her as I thrust forward.  As I slipped into her, she raised
her pelvis to meet me, drawing me into her as I drove down into her, both
of us in perfect point/counterpoint, our rhythm together perfect and
unconsciously precise.  My hands slid down her back as I slipped my arms
under her to take my weight on my elbows and forearms.  Now I could hold
her fabulous bum cheeks, squeezing those softly muscular marvels as she
flexed against me, pumping her pussy up and onto my hammering cock.
   It took only a couple of minutes of this for her to begin gasping and
hissing as the first faint trails of orgasm threaded through her like
silver rain against a dark backdrop, thrilling electric trails snapping and
crackling inside her, brilliant and pleasurable.
   "Davey...ooohhh, yeeesss...please...Davey ...ooohhh God, yeeesss,
yeeesss, YEESSSS!" she screamed as she orgasmed, a sudden rush of warmth
over my lower belly and upper thighs as she sprayed her tangy juices over
me in the extremity of her orgasm.
   She continued to hump and gasp against me as her orgasm rolled and
crashed through her, breakers on a silver beach, each comber dragging back
a little further, crashing into her less high as her orgasm slowly trailed
away and abandoned her to the afterglow.  She lay quietly under me for a
few moments, twitching and shivering in adrenaline reaction before opening
her eyes and smiling at me.
   "And still nothing for you, Darling Boy.  I know what you deserve for
being such a wonderful man; we're here on mom's bed, I want to do what mom
liked best, Davey, I want both her children to do what she liked best,
Davey, right here where she did it!"
   Of course I knew exactly what she meant, and as I moved off her,
kneeling up to catch my breath, Lori dragged a couple of pillows into the
centre of the bed and rolled onto them on her stomach, pushing and
adjusting them under her tummy until her sexy bum was lifted up and
pointing right at me.  She looked back at me and winked, then took hold of
her cheeks and pulled them open, stretching her anus open obscenely.
   "Fuck my ass, baby, stick that big cock of yours in my ass, I want you
to ream me properly, brother of mine, give your sister what her mom liked
so much!" she whispered, her violet eyes flashing as she leered at me.
   I moved up over her and placed my hands on the bed on either side of
her, sliding my achingly stiff cock into her soaking wet pussy and pumping
a couple of times to lubricate myself thoroughly, before pulling out and
positioning myself against the tight knot of her anus.  Lori pulled her
cheeks apart and lifted slightly, pushing herself onto the head of my erect
cock.  As she did, I slid forward, pushing into her tight anus with
practiced ease, sliding in and filling her tight rectum as she gasped with
the sensation.
   "Fucking hell, Davey, that thing really is getting bigger!  Next time a
little slower, please, for fuck's sake!" She panted, pushing back against
me nevertheless.
   "You wanted dirty, now take it, little sister, now your big brother's
filling your arsehole, is that dirty enough for you?" I whispered in her
ear, watching her grin and nod.
   For me, the best part was always going to be the initial penetration, as
her ring clamped around my shaft and pulled me into her hot tightness, like
sliding into a warm, skin-tight glove, one that pulsed and squeezed me
evenly along my entire length.  I knew I wasn't going to last long like
this; I never could.  Lori was so fucking hot, this was so depraved, and
the memories and associations were so intense that I could only hold back
for a few short minutes.
   I began to pump slowly, withdrawing as always more difficult than
sliding back in, and it was obviously having an effect of Lori; as I pumped
and savoured the sensation of her hot rectum squeezing me, she was
muttering and gasping, and when I slid my hands under her ribcage and
cupped her breasts to squeeze her nipples, she began bucking against me in
earnest, fucking me with her arse as I plunged my cock into her as hard as
I could, for as long as I could, both of us heading for a monster climax.
   The end came suddenly, as it always did.  Lori screamed as she came, her
anus clamping down tight on me as her pussy convulsed, her cervix
contracting and drumming against my cock as it lay sheathed in her tight
velvety rectum.  I lost all self-control, my sperm finally bursting
unstoppably out of me, to flood her bowels with my hot seed.  The feel of
my cock pulsing inside her as I blasted spunk into her served to roll her
orgasm over and slam into her all over again.  Lori groaned as yet more
waves battered her, the convulsions of her arse milking me as effectively
as her pussy had done so many times before.
   Eventually I finished spraying inside her, my pulses of spunk turning
into an anaemic trickle, then dying away as I softened and finally slid
from her, so buggered it wasn't even funny; I felt like death warmed up, it
was all I could do to slump down next to her and pull her to me as I pulled
the covers over us, before falling into a deep, but not dreamless sleep...
   I had a disturbed night; snatches of dreams, a blizzard of images from
the last few weeks, starting from when I'd arrived back in Des Moines for
Charlie's funeral, then mother's death, and jumping around in no particular
order between then and the confrontation with Bella this afternoon.
   Lori must have been having a similarly broken sleep; at one point I felt
her as she stood by the bed pulling the bedclothes back up over me and
patting me on the shoulder, and I remember wondering muzzily why she'd
needed to get out of bed to do that.  Eventually I slipped into a deep,
dreamless sleep, to be woken by Lori screaming in the dressing room.
   I was out of bed and in there in a flash, my eyes taking in the clothes
strewn all over the floor, and then noticing the direction of her gaze.  I
looked around, and the large painting of 'Black' Andrew, the one it had
taken two of us to take down and take out into the corridor, was back on
the wall!  His expression seemed to be even more dissipated and licentious,
and I started in shock, instinctively stepping in front of Lori to shield
her from...what?
   "Davey...what...how...who...?  It's not possible...Davey, who did this?"
she babbled, and I could hear the edge of real fright in her voice.  I
pushed her out of the dressing room and grabbed all her stuff, stuffed it
into the nearest open case, and dragged it the hell out of there, making
sure I closed and locked the door, and putting the key into the dresser
drawer.  Then I pulled her to me, holding her tightly as she shook and
trembled in fright.
   "Davey, how did that get there?  I didn't do it, I can't even lift that
thing, so either you did it in your sleep, or it did it itself, or someone
was in here, with us, while we were sleeping...!"
   I felt damp on my shoulder and I realised my baby was crying, with fear,
or shock, or both; this place and whatever had happened in there, had
really spooked her.  Her voice was tremulous and soft when she spoke again.
   "You had such a restless night, Davey, you were awake half the night,
rustling around and rummaging in the closets, I could hear you breathing
heavy, and I kept dreaming about mom, about daddy and the funeral, and
replaying that scene this afternoon; I only really fell asleep after that
lovely massage..."
   My head snapped up; what massage?  I'd been like a dead thing, so tired
I could barely move, I'd woken in the exact same position I'd fallen asleep
in, so I knew I hadn't moved, so who was rummaging around in the closets?
Who the hell put that picture back, and who, or what, had had their hands
on my lovely wife?  That was the last straw; I wasn't staying here another
night, not with something roaming around at night and running its hands
over my wife...
   "Baby," I said slowly, "that wasn't me; I didn't give you a massage...
   Lori stared at me in horror, her grip on me almost painfully tight.  I
held her close, as I whispered "I think it might be a really good idea if
we not spend another night here, okay?"
   Lori nodded, still clutching me tightly, shivering even more.  That was
it, we were done, Denham Hall was just too much for me to deal with, and
now, with something here that apparently liked touching Lori?  No, we were
gone, adios, auf weidersehen, sayonara, see ya.
   By mutual agreement, we took a shower together; Lori felt unclean, with
God knows what running its hands over her.  Neither one of us wanted to let
the other out of their sight, so we dressed together, re-packed our bags
and dragged and kicked them downstairs in one shift, again, because neither
of us wanted to be alone for even one second.
   Once all the bags were stacked outside in the porch, we walked together
over to the coach-house to get Jimmy.  I wasn't really surprised when Rosie
answered the door, and she just grinned, her aplomb completely undisturbed.
Jimmy at least had the grace to blush, although I wasn't sure why; Rosie
was long past twenty-one, not my sister, and if she wanted to spend the
night with a man, it was of no real interest to me, and entirely none of my
business anyway.  She seemed to know that something had happened, probably
by the look on Lori's face, and after a quick whispered conversation with
her she turned to me.
   "I think you'd better stay in the village with mummy and me, all three
of you!  I wondered how long you'd stick it out in that gothic horror
funhouse.  Pass me your 'phone, Davey, I'll just let mummy know we've got
guests."
   Lori tried to protest, but Rosie brushed them aside.
   "Nonsense, you're family, it's no imposition.  We'd love having you
stay; I daresay it will be a lot less terrifying than staying in the Hammer
House of Horrors over there!"
   That settled, we waited for Jimmy and Rosie to straighten-up, packed all
our stuff into the car and left.  As I was climbing into the car, something
made me look back at the house, and there, quite plainly, was a figure with
long dark hair, in a dark robe or dress, standing and looking at us through
the master bedroom window; Jimmy stifled an exclamation as he too saw it,
closing his mouth as he saw my quick nod at Lori and Rosie, not wanting to
alarm them.
   We left Denham Hall for the very last time; someone else in the family
could have the pleasure of living there and get felt-up by whatever the
hell was roaming the place, perhaps Bella, she wanted it so badly, and
she'd fit in nicely with all the other 'Bogle's an' Ghaistie's and
long-leggedy beasties, an' things that go bump in the night' haunting the
place.  I smiled as I thought of Bella, with a face on her like a cat
licking shit off a nettle, confronting whatever malevolent presence was
roaming around in that gloomy crypt; perhaps we didn't need the
Ghostbusters; one night of Bella's own special presence in there should
clean it out better than Clorox...
   Thinking happy thoughts like that, we figuratively shook the dust of
Denham Hall off our shoes as we zoomed away from there, never to return;
whatever was living there was welcome to the bloody place, and good
riddance!
   to be continued....
   pics---->> http://bit.ly/1QdQXsD 
  
InLovewithLoriCh04