This story is for persons of eighteen years or over. All comments, good or bad, are welcome and all will be answered.
Part One.
PROLOGUE
The Horseshoe is a private housing estate, surrounded by high walls, twenty four-hour guards with the latest security devices known to man, deep in the Surrey countryside. Well off the main roads and only served by a small track from one of the minor roads that do not appear on most ordinance survey maps.
The builder didn't actually have permission at the time to erect dwellings on designated farmland, but, with a few phone calls to friends in the local council, he didn't have the normal problems. His argument was, that how can the middle of a wood constitute being classified as farmland. The answer was that if the road into the estate was not developed...
So the `Horseshoe' came into being.
Eight houses were built in a clearing in the middle of the wood in the shape it gave its name, with only the one track into and out of the estate, and they were sold for around a half a million pounds each. Making it a nice profit for the original landowner and the builder.
Because of the laws about building in the green belt, the houses were not advertised in the normal way, but by word of mouth. So, it was really only offered to selected agencies who had clients that wanted the privacy.
In fact, they were all sold within two weeks of being offered, even though they were still three months away from completion. Considering the price of the properties, they, the builders, refused to let anyone move in till they had completely finished the estate.
It was worth it! The pseudo Georgian houses, with immaculate lawns, devoid of the detritus of the builders, was a picture to behold. Three houses on either side as you entered the horseshoe, with two imposing structures at the bowl end of the shoe. Their facades, with the twin columns either side of the front entrance beneath the portico's flanking the double teak front doors. The bow windows on the ground floor already draped with wisteria, were a sight to behold. These two sold for one million each, and were the first to be snapped up.
The agent for the properties also controlled the date of occupation. This was to stop any congestion of furniture removal vehicles and also to set the tone of the pecking order within the estate.
All houses had been carpeted throughout, and had the latest appliances installed, down to the smallest toaster.
It was early on the Monday that the first van arrived to unload at number four, the first of the big houses to be occupied. It was two vans that unloaded the possessions of the current American hit movie star, Marianne Dyer. They weren't really her possessions as such. They were what her agent had deemed was necessary for her to be comfortable with in her new, but temporary home while she was in England. It was nearly three weeks before Miss Dyer actually moved in, but she was the first to be ensconced in the Horseshoe.
The second house to be occupied, a day later, was number five, next door to Miss Dyer's. Mr Stephen Mattock, a prominent publisher of a scurrilous newspaper that didn't pull punches with whatever news came within his reach. He needed the security as well as the anonymity, because he wasn't far off causing headlines himself for his promiscuity with either sex. He moved in immediately with his wife and their own security staff.
As did the occupant of number two. Two heavies unlimbered themselves from the limousine before they allowed one of the world's current top pop stars to get out and survey his new home. Sven Dali, his stage name; an inappropriate choice in the opinion of many people, but it got him noticed and sold many records. Enough to be able to afford this house. His girl friend, the current one, was left to get out of the car herself and follow them into the house. Her voluptuous figure didn't go unnoticed by Stephen Mattock who was watching them disembark.
Two days later, a Liberal Member of Parliament moved in with his secretary. To avoid libel laws, we cannot give either names, so we will call them Mr. Black and Mr White. The house they occupied was number seven.
It was a business entrepreneur who took possession of number one. David Fowler was one of the whiz kids that the city sometimes disgorges out into society. He had made a lot of money on the Stock Exchange floor and wisely decided to invest in property, while he expanded out into the world of consultancy. Alice Drupe, an associate from previous days, who was his present girlfriend, moved in too.
It upset the rest of the Horseshoe when they found out that the occupant of number six turned out to be a lottery winner. Mr and Mrs Wilson with their teenage daughter.
The female novelist Berry Nice took number three. She now wished she'd never chosen that nom-de-plume. If she had only known how successful she was to become, she would have chosen something much more decorous, as now befitted her circumstances.
The last house occupied was that of number eight. It was thought to be a good coup for the others that a prominent footballer should move into their small enclave. Again, for legal reasons, let's say he was Mike Stevens from a Premier division football club.
Thus all eight houses were occupied by a fairly diverse and affluent spectrum of society, but most devoid of the morals that society has prescribed that we should live by.
Number One, The Horseshoe.
Four of the houses of the Horseshoe were already occupied when David Fowler moved in on the Monday. He'd supervised the loading of the furniture van on the Saturday for them to be down at his new house as early as possible that Monday morning. He'd spent the weekend at his girl friend's flat in Battersea, and during one night of this weekend, asked her, Alice Drupe, to come and live with him. She smiled, kissed him, and opened her legs again as she accepted him on both accounts.
David had started in London as a runner for a brokerage house, but soon moved into a position of a dealer on the Stock Exchange. This he had a flair for, and soon started to make a lot of money for his employers as well as getting huge bonuses for himself. He loved the cut and thrust of selling short and going long on his deals, and had the nose for when to pull back and advise to sell or buy.
Though he did go out with the boys, drinking and living it up at clubs and the like, he still squirreled away quite a sum before he was twenty-two. After another three years, he decided to go solo and open his own office as an investment consultant.
That was when he employed Alice Drupe. She was only twenty years of age, but quickly picked up his enthusiasm, and worked as hard as she could. It was nearly a year before he realised that all he had been doing was working. He suddenly missed the nights out with the boys, and what they would sometimes do when they were at the pubs and the discos.
`Alice! How long have we been working together?' he asked her.
`Eleven months as near as damn it,' she replied.
`Have we made any money in that time?' he queried.
`Quite a bit. Without going through everything, I would say about a million and a half.' She straightened up from the filing cabinet, pushing a lock of hair away from her eyes. The action accentuating her breasts through the thin blouse. He noticed, for the first time, that she wasn't wearing a bra, and that the nipples were quite pronounced on her ample breasts. He leaned back in his chair as he looked at her in the half-light of his office.
`Alice, let me take you for a drink for I think that we have done enough to deserve a treat. What do you say?'
`I say yes to that! It's gone six, and it's time we finished anyway,' she answered.
So they closed the office, got their coats and went out into the bustle of streets full of people making their way to their homes. Some, like them, stopped at bars for at least one drink before going off.
It was a small bar that they stopped in, and he was somewhat at a loss at what to talk about it being so long since he'd been out alone with a female. But she came through with flying colours, keeping the conversation flowing, filling in the pauses with little bits of nonsense that made him laugh. So much so that it was very late when they left the bar.
It was Alice who suggested that they get something to eat, but as it was then, very late, that it might be better if they went to her place where she could cook them a meal. So off they set, and were soon at her flat where she made him sit down while she prepared a meal.
He couldn't sit still in such a small room, so he was soon up and walked out into the kitchen, small again, to help. He opened the bottle of wine she indicated, and stirred the veg as directed, between sips from his glass.
With the quick meal prepared, they sat and ate from the plates on their laps in the lounge as soft music played from her small machine on the sideboard. They also finished off the bottle of wine.
It was only when he was drinking his coffee next to her that he really saw her for the first time, relaxed, and at home with herself. He liked the line of her cheek, framed by her hair, the fullness of her lips and then looking down, the fullness of her body and was suddenly aroused.
My God, he thought. It's been over a year since I've had a woman. So he turned and took the glass from her hand and placed it on the side table and kissed her.
My God, she thought. It's taken him nearly a year to do this and accepted the kiss with alacrity.
With both having the urge, it wasn't long before they were both on the floor, naked. Kissing, fondling and bringing each to a pitch where all that was left was to couple. This they did with vigour as her legs opened and took him inside as he held himself up above her. His arms straight down by her sides as he thrust into her, her arms up at his neck, holding him. She pulled him down as she came to her orgasm, her legs going round him as she clutched at him. He reciprocated by grinding hard at her as he came in his shuddering bursts, collapsing on her as he spent himself.
They lay for a long time on the floor, kissing, sucking and licking at each other before they finally went to bed and had a repeat performance.
From then on they were an item. They worked together and lived and made love together. He moved out of his dowdy basement flat into her first floor just as dowdy flat. Then a year later he enquired at an estate agent for the finding of a suitable property for him and Alice.
So the two of them moved into the Horseshoe.
Number Two, the Horseshoe.
The hall was in darkness, but the stage was a blaze of light as the group belted out their latest number. The fans screamed as they finished and tried to storm the stage but were beaten back by the protectors as the group left, waving their guitars to the crowd. They pushed their way through the other performers waiting to go on, making their way to the dressing room they were using.
`Fucking morons,' Sven snarled as they dropped into their chairs. He was covered in sweat from his exertions out there on the stage. His clothes were dripping wet, which he savagely tore off as he sat there till he was naked, his cock sticking out erect from between his thighs, and he held it in his hand.
Now Klaus, now!' he said to another member of the band, I want it done now!'
Klaus went over and bent down and took him into his mouth and sucked on him till Sven came, pumping his sperm out into the willing recipient's throat. He pushed him off when he'd finished coming, and wiped the end of his prick on his towel as he wiped himself down.
`That's what they all want. How lucky you are Klaus to be the one to get it' he sneered as he kicked out at him. The other two of the group looked at him with disgust and loathing in their eyes, but said nothing. It was always the same with him. Being the lead, it was always him out front and getting the kudos, and they were always relegated to the back row when it came to pube city.
Then there was this performance nearly every time backstage. It was always Klaus who went down on him, the others wouldn't. It was unfortunate that neither of the other two had the backbone to stand up to him. It was Sven that made the group and, in the process, made them millionaires, so they weren't prepared to ruin the continuing run of the gravy train. If Klaus was prepared to accept it as it was, so would they, but they still wished it was different.
The four boys had formed the group while they were at University, in Stockholm. Sven Dali, whose real name was Stromberg. He changed it when they formed their rock band, the others being Klaus Johansen, Paul Kronje and Lars Winters. They named the group `Blazers', this was because of the jackets they wore when they first performed at a school concert. They'd been playing together for a year, doing these concerts with the occasional gig at one of the pubs in the city.
It was here that Damien Bacon spotted them and became their agent and promoter. He did a good job for them, getting them record deals and bookings all over Europe before taking them round the world on tour.
Five years on, they were a household name, rivalling The Stones and other top groups. They had tried living together, but that didn't work. It was okay while on tour, but they had to have a break from each other in between times. It was agreed that they would use England as their base, and they all got their own houses close enough to London for recording sessions.
It was Damien who found out about the Horseshoe and talked Sven into buying his house there. So an interior designer was hired and she saw to the purchase of beds, drapes and furnishings, and supervised their placement on the Wednesday.
Saturday afternoon saw the limousine pull into the estate and Sven moved in with Wesley and Phil, his two bodyguards, and a well endowed young woman called Natasha who was his current girl friend.
Number Three, the Horseshoe.
As a child at school, Vanessa Brice showed remarkable perception on and awareness of things around her. This showed in the essays she wrote, and her teacher, who had a speech impediment, always complimented on her writings by saying, `Berry nice Banessa, berry nice.'
So when she was in high school and started to contribute stories for the school magazine, she signed her articles as Berry Nice' to keep her anonymity. At university, she became the editor of Campus' magazine and passed her courses in English Lit. and journalism with flying colours. On leaving, she got a job on a woman's magazine as a sub-editor and quite often published her own pieces, which was not really ethical, but under the bye line of Berry Nice, got away with it.
Six years later she was editor and was able to afford a small flat south of the river. Here, she wrote her first novel which was a huge success. Her second was just as good as the first, so she made the decision to quit being an editor and devote herself to writing full time. That was when she started looking for a secluded place to do this.
A friend of hers told her about the Horseshoe, and she was very pleased to secure it and moved in on the second Wednesday.
Number Four, the Horseshoe.
Marianne Dyer, nee Janet Kelp, was a child film star at fourteen years of age. Now at twenty six, she was a super star. It was her overbearing mother who pushed her into films back in Hollywood. Shirley Kelp had slept with six producers before one finally agreed to give her daughter a screen test. After the test, he took the little girl Janet's virginity in his office and she never looked back from then on. She also `lost' her virginity with the producers of her next four films.
Then came her name change and suddenly she was a star, but she still made a point of bedding the producer of all her films. She married too early and quickly divorced the immature boy, her fifth co-star. Then there was a second marriage, which lasted just as long as the first. She was now in between husbands and was currently being seen with a flamboyant playboy when she went out on the town.
The agents for the Horseshoe were very pleased that they were able to make the first sale of the best property to an international film star. It gave them a lot of credibility to be then able to vet the other buyers.
It was three weeks before she swept in with her maid, script reader and agent, and not without her small corgi that she had bought while in England. If the Queen of England had corgi dogs, so could she.
Number Five, the Horseshoe.
Stephen Mattock was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, or so the saying goes. Ever since he could walk, everything he wanted or asked for, he got. He was a very spoilt child, and would fly into tantrums if he didn't get his way in all things.
School was hard for him. His tantrums didn't cut any ice there, and when he didn't get his own way, he would be very vicious in his attacks on those that denied him. They were not direct attacks, but more on the sneaky side, like writing scurrilous letters accusing teachers of all kinds of malfeasances.
He became very adept at sniffing out people's secrets and then telling everybody else. His father would have been very proud of him if he had known, because he was really following in his footsteps. His father owned one of the large newspaper publishing groups, and Stephen was being groomed to eventually take over. He joined the paper and quickly rose up the ladder to be vice president, and was ready when his father died of a sudden heart attack at the age of fifty-eight. After the funeral, he returned to the paper and then proceeded to fire nearly a third of the staff. All of his father's sycophants and those that had earned his enmity over the preceding years, promoting his own brown nosed followers. His policy, as he told his staff at his first meeting, was to find dirt. The dirtier the mess the better, and it was splashed all over the front pages.
He then married the daughter of a rival chain, demanding, and getting a small section of their publishing outlet as a marriage settlement. The honeymoon was short for he didn't want to be away from the paper too long. Even so, he still found time to bang one of the hotel maids whilst on this honeymoon.
His wife, Margaret, had been pestering him for some time now to find them a house outside of London, and was excited when she saw the house and even more so when she learnt who her neighbour was.
Number Six, the Horseshoe.
Jim Wilson was a warehouse supervisor when he met Jane Wellington, a checkout clerk at a local supermarket. He was in the habit of doing his shopping midweek during the evening, as he didn't like the crowds on Friday's and Saturday's. With only three checkout counters, he always went to hers because she was the prettiest.
It was four months before he plucked up the courage to ask her out, and was very pleased when she accepted. They went out regular then for nearly eighteen months before he asked her if she would marry him, again he was pleased when she accepted. They got married almost two years from the time they first dated. It was fate she declared, as they both had the same initials and it was meant for them to be together.
Two years later, their daughter was born, and keeping with the idea of initials, they named her Judy. They were living in North London and probably would have stayed there. Jim worked on in the warehouse, becoming Assistant Manager and Jane became Manageress at the supermarket, and when Judy left school, went and worked with her mother. It was on her eighteenth birthday, that she went out to a party to celebrate, and didn't get home till nearly two a.m. and was surprised to see that the house lights were still on.
She let herself in after saying goodnight to her friends, and went into the lounge to find her mother and father half drunk on champagne. She went into hysterics when they told her that they had all six numbers up on a rollover on the National Lottery. It turned out that they were the only winners, so it was a very substantial sum that they won.
They left their jobs immediately, and a week later, they went on holiday for six months. Upon their return, they saw that Jane's parents were set up for life with a new home and enough money to live out the rest of their lives in comfort. It was when looking for their own home, they saw a small snippet in a magazine about Marianne Dyer buying her house, and were lucky enough to quickly find the agent and pay cash on the nail.
Number Seven, the Horseshoe.
Peter Black had always wanted to be a Member of Parliament ever since he was a child and had visited the famous building on a school visit. The green benches, the imposing Speakers chair and the smell of history were behind his driving force. He read Hansard, past speeches of famous politicians, joined the school debating team, and then joined the party that would give him the best chance of being nominated.
He chose the Liberal Party. He worked it out that of the three, they had the less members and therefore he had more chance of being selected if he played his cards right. Nothing was too much trouble for him in running errands for the party. Canvassing in all kinds of weather while after studying the leaders speeches, rewording them and making quotes that appeared to be his own while backing up that of the leader.
He became a master on political non speak. Saying a great deal but giving nothing away, answering awkward questions without hesitation, yet still not committing himself one way or another. This soon got him noticed and it wasn't long before he became a candidate and stood for his first election. Unfortunately he was put up against a very strong Labour constituency and only came third, but he had increased the voting for his party by over fifty per cent such was the strength of his charm while canvassing.
Resigned to waiting another four years, he was pleasantly surprised to find himself being the only Liberal name put forward at a bye election only six months later on the death of the incumbent. He was swept in by an increased number of votes and was now a backbencher in the Commons.
The reason he sought a new place to live was because he was getting more media attention than he liked, and this, he reasoned was because he had a male secretary who lived in the same house with him. The press were obviously trying to find out if he was hiding in the closet, as a lot of stories about him were being slanted to lead people to believe he was gay and having relations with Mr White, his secretary.
Number Eight, the Horseshoe.
Mike Stevens was definitely not a Pele or Billy Wright, but a good enough footballer to be signed up with a local London team. He was spotted playing for his school, and a scout seeing the potential the boy had, and signed him up for the club.
He went straight into their under sixteen team as soon as he left school. His best position was midfield right, but could, in a pinch, kick nearly as well with his left foot, so he was useful cover for both sides of the field. Though they didn't win their league that first year, he did well enough to be selected for the England squad, though he sat on the bench for the whole competition.
For his London club, he moved up to the under eighteen team and proved a success as a good passer of the ball, providing many crosses to the front players to score many goals in his first season. By the time he was twenty, he had acquired a manager to negotiate his contract when he was transferred to the first team and secured the number five shirt, which became a club best seller.
Three years on and he was the main stem of the team. He was also one of the few picked for England, twelve caps he now had in his cabinet. Silvia Cross, a model, who was just starting to make a name for herself as a model, was his latest girlfriend. Albeit to say, it was her connection with him that was bringing her career to a peak.
It was with Silvia, George Lansky, his manager and agent, and his girl friend, Celia Worth that moved in on the Thursday of the second week.
God I'm bored,' said Judy, flinging herself down on the settee. What on earth made you and dad pick this godforsaken place?' She picked up a magazine off the floor and idly flipped through the pages.
`Your father and I liked it. It's quiet. It's secluded...'
And it's boring,' Judy exclaimed, interrupting her mother, Ever since you won that bloody money, all you've wanted to do is hide! Four bloody million pounds we've got in the bank.'
`But we did take a trip round the world, dear,' Jane Wilson said, knitting in her chair.
`A whistle stop tour! Two days here. Two days there. Never did we stop anywhere long enough for me to meet anyone. As soon as I met someone, got to know their name, we were bloody well flying off again. I don't get to see anyone now,' she started to sob.
There there dear,' said Jane, putting her knitting down and getting out of her chair and going over to Judy. She knelt down and took her into her arms. We've only been here a week, Give the place a chance. You'll soon get to know the people here, when they eventually all move in. Some are here already.'
`Yes. One old spinster opposite.'
`She's younger than I am by the looks of her.'
`It didn't look it from where I was standing. The van didn't have much in it either. They were in and out inside of three hours. Who was it, anyway?' Judy asked.
I don't know, yet,' her mother smiled, but no doubt we'll know soon enough. But we do know who's in number eight, don't we?'
Huh. I can see him on the box every week if I want to. In fact, there's more of him in this magazine,' which Judy waved at her mother before dropping it back down onto the floor, than I've seen of him here.'
Don't fret so,' Jane admonished her, there's plenty of time. Soon the place here will be jumping with lots of young people you can meet. There's that pop star, Svengali, or whatever his name is. He's there in number two.'
`Number two is right! A real shit if what the papers say is right. Especially that paper that the prick next door owns.'
`Please don't use that language dear. You're not in North London now.'
Oh bloody well forgive me for forgetting my place,' Judy sneered sarcastically, I'm not in North London now! I'm supposed to be a genteel country woman now. What a load of bollocks.' This last said under her breath as she got up from the settee and went over to the large picture window that overlooked the expansive front lawn. `Look at it. It's a fu...bloody prison. High walls, gates and bloody security guards. I'm going stir crazy already!'
`Look,' Jane said,' why not go out for a walk.'
`Ha! Exercise period is it? One hour in twenty four.'
Please Judy,' Jane begged, don't go on so much. You've got your own t.v., tapes, videos, computer; what else do you want? There's also the swimming pool!'
`Too cold, it's still only spring,' Judy replied.
`Well go talk to your father. He's out in the conservatory. Go talk to him.'
Judy looked at her mother sitting there, quite content, knitting. Just what the hell is she knitting now she thought as she left the lounge? She wandered out and through the house to the conservatory where her father was trimming some plants that were in pots. She stopped before she entered, and not wanting a repeat conversation, turned, and went on to the kitchen and let herself out into the garden.
The sun was shining, making the swimming pool glisten and the water's surface rippled with the gentle breeze. It still looks too cold she thought as she gave a shiver. She was dressed in only a pair of sandals, tight shorts and a halter top. Following the fashion from the pop magazines, she didn't wear a bra at any time, so her breasts swung free and heavy beneath the thin material.
Judy walked round the house and down the paved garage driveway to the road. Off and down to her left, she could see the guardhouse, as she called it, and the silhouette of somebody inside.
Someone different to talk to, she thought, as she turned left and walked down to the gates of the estate. The uniformed guard looked up as her shadow fell across the window, and he beckoned her round to the side door. She opened it and went into the little office.
`Good morning. You must be Miss Wilson from number six,' he said, getting up from the chair.
`Yes. Judy Wilson,' she replied, holding out her hand. He shook the proffered hand and indicated to the empty chair.
`Mark. Mark Anderson. Please sit down. It's nice to have... to have somebody else to talk to.'
His eyes took in her figure, especially her upper half as she sat down. She saw his gaze linger on her bosom, but chose to ignore it as she crossed her slim legs.
`I thought there were two of you here?' Judy asked.
`There is. Karl is doing his walkabout.'
`What's that?' she asked.
`Well every hour or so, not regular of course. We take turns to walk round the estate and into the woods. That's part of our job. Keeping the place secure, you know.'
Judy sat there idly swinging her leg, looking at the young man in his trim new uniform. Looks like he's got a nice body under that, and about twenty-two years old she thought. He started to fidget a little under the direct scrutiny from her pale blue eyes, his eyes involuntary looking down at her outlined breasts.
`Er...er would you like something to drink,' he stammered.
`God yes. I'd love a gin and tonic,' she replied.
Oh,' he stammered again, we've only got tea and coffee I'm afraid, and maybe a few biscuits.'
`No, no thanks,' she said as she stretched back in the chair, watching his eyes dropping down again as her breasts pushed out against the tight fabric, her nipples starting to harden as she saw his discomfiture it was causing him. She could see that there now was a bulge in his trousers that wasn't there before.
Well I guess I better be going,' Judy said getting up. You must have lots to do, looking after us and all.'
`Not at all Miss Judy. It's a real pleasure to be here. I...I can bring some gin and tonics here on my next shift if you would like,' he stammered.
That would be nice Mark,' she said as she stroked his cheek as she moved to the door. Well I'm off to do some sun bathing. Now be sure to make sure there's no prowlers out there in them there woods. Bye now.'
`Wow' he breathed when she was out of earshot.
Judy let her hips swing as she moved back up the drive, knowing that he was watching her, and, he would probably patrol round the back of the properties quite soon. So it was the poolside for the next hour or so, suitably dressed, or undressed as the case may be. She felt a dampness start to creep between her thighs at the thought of being watched as she sunbathed.
She didn't know that other people were also watching her as she walked away from the guardhouse. George Lansky, manager to the footballer Mike Stevens happened to be looking out of the window as she walked up the drive.
`Mike! Mike, quick. Look at this great piece of ass and look at the way them buns swing.' Mike joined him at the window.
`The back view's good, but what about the front?' Mike asked as they watched her turn up towards her house.
`Now that's better than the rear. Her tits are leading by almost half a length.'
Another person watching was thinking almost the same thing. That being Stephen Mattock, the publisher. He didn't call anyone, especially not his wife Margaret. He watched the young girl stride up the path to her house, and made a mental note to send an invitation to the family for the little soiree he was planning for the following week. He continued to watch the lithe figure till she disappeared round the corner of the building, and he sighed and gave his crotch a rub as he turned away from the window.
Judy went round to the patio and into the changing room. This also contained a sauna and a shower and a large cupboard that held sun beds and umbrellas. She dragged out a sun bed and set it up near the edge of the pool, and then went upstairs to her room.
Here she stripped off and put on the skimpiest bikini she could find in the dresser drawer. Then she paused before the full length mirror to strike some poses, readjusting her top to show as much breast as possible. Giving the mirror a few pouts and smiles, left her room and went into her parents' bedroom which faced the front of the house.
On finding her father's binoculars in the wardrobe, she used them to look down the drive towards the guardhouse. She could see Mark quite clearly and also the other guard who would have to be Karl. He was just as good looking as Mark, she noticed. Mark was just putting on his hat and said something to Karl as he stepped out of the office, obviously to take his turn to go round the estate. Putting the glasses back in the wardrobe, Judy made her way down to the pool, picking up her dark glasses and a book on the way.
She fussed with the towels on the sun bed before settling herself down, book open, and a page being turned every now and then. The smoky lens of the glasses hid her eyes, which were constantly roving across the garden to the woods beyond.
Judy started to get impatient. She'd been sitting there for nearly half an hour and was thinking that she had made a mistake, but then caught a movement off to the left, just inside the tree line, and she gave herself an inward smile. She waited a few more minutes till she saw another movement before she started her own move.
First the book was put down and she sat up and slowly reached behind her and undid the strap of her bikini top. She then dropped it onto the book and lifted both breasts up with her hands. Her nipples were like small pebbles, standing out hard from the dark aureoles that surrounded them. Judy then took off her glasses and released her hair from its elastic band, shaking her head to let it flow loose around her shoulders, her breasts swinging with the body movement. Then she gathered the strands in her hands, smoothing it up and behind her head, her arms up, making her breasts stand out proud as she caught her hair back into the band.
Her hands then made a show of brushing loose hair off her breasts, making them bounce as she did so. Then the glasses were put on again before she lay back on the bed. After a few minutes, she made her hand caress her stomach before letting the fingers move down and under her bikini, making a show of playing with herself, and was satisfied to see some movement in the trees. He's either got binoculars or very good eyesight for the distance between them, she thought as her fingers moved with more exaggeration.
Mark had just finished, and was wiping himself with his handkerchief, when he saw the door to the conservatory open and her father come out onto the patio. Judy quickly sat up and hastily put her top back on before turning to him.
`I thought it was too cold to sunbathe,' he said with a shiver.
You're right,' Judy replied, getting up from the bed, it's colder than I first thought.' She picked up her book and went inside the house. Jim shrugged his shoulders and followed her. He went into the lounge to find Margaret quite excited.
Look Jim,' she waved an envelope at him with one hand, and a card from the other. This just came through the letterbox. It's an invitation to a party from you'll never guess who!'
`What? Oh, yes. No I mean,' he replied, waiting to be enlightened.
`From Mr Stephen Mattock, the publisher, who lives next door. They're having a small party next Tuesday, and we've been invited. Now isn't that nice. We must go up to town and get some nice clothes. All of us! You could do with a new suit anyway. Judy and I must get something special. Imagine it! The biggest publisher in England living next door to us and inviting us to his party!' Margaret gushed on in this vein for a while, driving Jim out of the room with it and the plans for a shopping expedition she was about to mount on the shops of London.
Meanwhile, Judy had retrieved the binoculars, and was watching the guardhouse until she saw Mark appear, and enter and talk to Karl inside.
`I wish I could hear what he is saying,' she said quietly to herself. She watched and waited till she saw Karl put on his cap, preparing to leave, and then she went to her room, stripped off her bikini and slipped on a short summer dress and sandals. No underwear at all.
Down to the dining room she went and filched a bottle of gin and some tonics from the bar. Putting them into a bag, she left the house and walked down to the guardhouse.
`Hello again,' she said to Mark as she went in.
`Uhh...hello,' he stammered as he went to stand up.
`No. You sit there, I'll be just as comfortable up here,' she said as she hoisted herself up onto the desk, showing a lot of leg as she did so. Judy opened the bag and produced the gin and tonics.
Pass those cups over,' she asked, and then poured out a generous drink into both proffered cups, topping them up with tonic. Cheers,' she said, raising hers and taking a good solid slug. He just took a sip from his. `Do you have any binoculars here?' she asked.
`Why no,' he answered somewhat perplexed by the question.
`Oh you should get some. They're very good for bird watching. Why only just a little while ago, there were two big tits in my garden. Blue, I think.'
She laughed inwardly as he blushed and took a hefty gulp of his drink. Then she let a sandal slip off her foot as she raised it and rested it on his knee. He gulped and blushed even more with this action, because he could now clearly see that she wasn't wearing any panties beneath the dress. She turned slightly to look out of the window behind her, making her other leg swing wide so that he had a clear view of her pubic bush.
`Where's Karl?' Judy asked, turning back to him.
`He's...he's...er...going round,' Mark stammered.
`The bend?'
No, I am, Mark thought, still looking at the view being offered.
`He's doing his turn round the estate.' He shifted himself uncomfortably in the chair, getting an erection again, in spite of having masturbated less than an hour ago. He was made more uncomfortable when her foot slipped of his knee and nestled in his groin.
`Is that a hard on I feel,' Judy asked, wiggling her toes at his crotch.
`Yes, dammit! What did you expect with what I can see in front of me,' he said fiercely. Judy leaned back on her straight arms, a sweet smile on her face, her foot continuing to massage him between his legs, feeling the hardness there.
`Would you like to fuck me?' she asked with that sweet smile still on her face.
`Too bloody right,' he exclaimed standing up and moving between her legs, pulled her towards him, till her crotch was tight against his trouser front. She was wet with the excitement she had caused, and the touch of the rough material against her sex, made her even more excited. She pushed against him and slid off the desk, and pulled him down to the floor, pulling up her dress as she did so.
He quickly undid his zip and pulled his erection out and moved in between her thighs. He didn't need guiding or encouragement as he slid into her, her arms going round his chest and her legs going up into the air as he plunged fully into her.
She came as soon as he entered, but, moving with his rhythm came for the second time as he came into her with hard quick thrusts. He kissed her face as he held her tight, bucking out his own orgasm, till he lay panting atop of her.
She liked the weight of him as well as the feel of his hardness inside of her as she accepted the kisses he gave her. We'll do it somewhere softer next time, she thought to herself, as the coldness of the floor started to make itself felt through her thin dress.
Mark stirred and pulled out from her, evincing a whimper from her as he did so, and still kneeling, tucked himself away and went to pull down the hem of her dress.
No!' Judy said, her legs still wide, her sex wet and open. Look and remember, because I want you to kiss and lick me there next time before we make love.' Judy said before she pulled down her dress and got up from the floor with his helping hand, and took another drink from her cup and put her arm round his shoulder.
`Well. Was it worth it?' Judy asked.
It was wonderful darling,' he said, taking her in his arms, and you are wonderful too,' kissing her on the lips, but missing as she turned her face away so that he only caught her cheek.
The next time,' she whispered into his ear, you want to go bird watching in the woods to see big tits, ask first.'
Over his shoulder, she could see that Karl was approaching, so she broke the embrace and put on her sandals and put the gin and tonics back into the bag.
`Why you must be Karl,' Judy said, holding out her hand as he entered the guardhouse.
And you must be Miss Wilson,' he said shaking her hand, Mark said that you had dropped in earlier. It's nice to meet you.' Turning to Mark, `You didn't say she was as beautiful as this,' and turning back to her, he smiled, showing perfect white teeth in his beautiful smile.
Well he told me you were old and ugly,' Judy laughed, and as she stroked his arm, added, and well past his prime.'
Only just reaching it, ma'am,' he laughingly replied, and with a speculative look in his eye, continued, the difficulty is proving it.'
Judy ran her eyes up and down his body as she stood in the doorway. `Well you never know what might come up in the future,' she said, her eyes flicking down below his waistline and then back up to his face, and smiling, left.