The (late) much loved Old Clem
by Maximilian Cummings
Lucy stepped from the car and turned to look at her new husband with eyes bright and her face lit up, “It’s perfect.”
Newly married, just a day ago, and on honeymoon the couple had just arrived at a cottage they had rented in the English countryside. Mart and she had finally found the place, having got lost a couple of times misreading the directions. It was up a bit of a steep hill off the road overlooking a village. The view, as they stepped from the car, was stunning and with the weather good, blue skies and fleecy clouds, they could look for miles over the countryside.
“Let’s see inside.” There was excitement in his voice.
Clearly recently refurbished the old house was as much a delight within as without. A cosy kitchen, snug living room and two bedrooms—not that they would be needing two. They were not expecting visitors or having anyone else in the cottage whilst honeymooning. It would be just the two of them—very much together. The bathroom too was just what Lucy had hoped for. The bath was even an old one with claw feet. Re-enamelled and room for two—if a snug fit and, well, they were on honeymoon. Pretty, cosy and just right.
“Oh, Mart!” She turned and threw her arms about her husband’s neck and kissed him. Not just a quick peck, but long and loving with mouths open to each other.
A cup of tea sitting in the garden looking out over the countryside below. A joy sitting in the pretty garden in the sunshine holding hands a little.
“Oh, this is a little sad.” Lucy was reading the information pack which had been sitting on the hall table. “It was some old boy’s house for years, but he’s died and the family have done it up as a holiday cottage.”
“Wanting to keep it in the family, I expect. You can hardly think they’d have wanted to sell it. What a gem.”
“He lived here all his life, it says.”
“Probably born here.”
When they looked more closely they found the family had left the odd photo of ‘Old Clem’ about the place. Lucy thought he looked a rather nice old boy. It seemed clear from the information that he had been well liked, well thought of, indeed loved by the people who knew him. There was a photograph of him in the kitchen before it had been modernised, another of him on the track outside in the snow, another of him on a stile out in the countryside.
Lucy read, ‘Clement, or ‘Clem’ as he was always known, loved the hills and this house. We tried getting him into an old folks’ home with central heating and no steps, but he wouldn’t move. He said he wouldn’t leave, and he didn’t. He died peacefully where he had been born.’
“How sweet—in a way. I can’t think I’d ever want to leave.”
“We have a whole fortnight, love.”
A simple supper, a glass of wine, a little watching of television together with arms around each other on the sofa. A newly married couple doing things together, living together and sharing their lives. A newly married couple sleeping together in the same bed.
Lucy went upstairs first, pausing on the landing and looking around her. Two bedroom doors and the bathroom door lead off. In the corner beyond the stairs sat an old rocking chair. She reached and set it in motion before going to run the bath as she brushed her teeth. The chair was still moving on its rockers when she went to her bedroom to get her nightdress. It was clearly very well balanced. Before undressing she lowered the blind to the bathroom window. It was unlikely anyone was outside, unlikely anyone was watching but she felt more private, more secure, with the blind down. Not that she would really have been cross or upset had some passing old man taken pleasure in watching a young girl taking her clothes off and settling naked into her bath. There were rather worse things in the world.
Good to settle into the water to soak and luxuriate. She was not left alone for long. Mart did not undress in the bathroom. He came in naked to do his teeth. She smiled in greeting at her husband. Some easy talk as he too brushed his teeth and then he was clambering into the bath meaning she had to move up one end. A substantial addition to her bath but one she liked very much!
Good to sit facing each other with legs alternate. It was somewhat inevitable, like that, that Mart’s toes would, after a time, touch her pubic hair and seek to rub. As newlyweds it was rather inevitable that her toes would stroke his flaccid penis and make it flaccid no longer.
Having washed the other and dried the other, Mart lifted Lucy and carried her to their bed and tossed her down upon it. It was very Rudolph Valentino except neither were dressed and Mart was sporting a very impressive erection. It did, though, have the feeling of the sheik throwing the captive girl down, ready to ravish her, about it. There was certainly going to be ravishing—of a sort. Willing ravishment which is not really ravishment at all!
“The blinds,” hissed Lucy. She might have closed the bathroom blind, but Mart had not thought to close those to the twin bedroom windows. Anyone outside, though they were not exactly the easiest windows to see into, would have seen Mart’s dramatic throw of naked Lucy to the bed and, as Mart pulled down the blinds, would have got an eyeful of Mart’s manly organ sticking up as he reached for the blind’s cords.
Safe from prying and interested eyes, Mart turned to his bride upon the bed. Lucy had one thigh drawn up coyly hiding her sex. He motioned, again sheik like for her to open her legs. She complied.
“Like a flower,” he said, “a very pretty pink flower with its petals opening.”
It was a bit poetic, a bit not Mart at all, and not very accurate in Lucy’s opinion. She did not regard the female pudenda as in any way pretty, but she did like the manly stamen she could see!
“I wish I was a bee!”
Lucy giggled. Mart was being stupid. But there was nothing stupid or unsatisfactory about the way he approached her flower and—she would not at all have used the expression—collected her nectar with his lips. He went ‘down’ on her very well.
She was almost coming, almost at the point of orgasm, had surrendered herself to Mart’s lapping tongue and teasing lips, when he came up her body and in one fluid movement thrust tongue between her lips and penis into her vagina. Her mouth opened to him, her vagina opened to him and she tasted herself on his lips and tongue. Her ankles went up and locked themselves over his back pulling his hard penis the stronger into herself as he excited her with strong thrusts of his hips, pushing into her and bringing her to orgasm. It would be his orgasm too, it excited her to think of his penis deep inside her all of a sudden spurting semen—inseminating her. It was not that he and she would be making babies—yet—that would come, but the very act had something special about it. Sexual and enjoyable as well as loving. The act of a married couple cementing their relationship. The giving and receiving of a ring and the giving and receiving of semen.
As Lucy neared orgasm into her mind came the thought of Old Clem. His smiling, be-whiskered, face staring out of a couple of photos around the cottage. Had he perhaps brought a young bride back to this very room? If walls could talk. If walls could hear—luckily they were quite thick and so, perhaps, a passer-by would not have heard just how vocal Lucy was as she came.
What would Old Clem have thought of the new or latest occupants of his home?
Remarkably there was still a village shop. They visited the next morning.
“You’re staying at Old Clem’s place?”
Lucy had talked to the shopkeeper and his wife for a time. As she had surmised, ‘Old Clem’ had indeed been much loved. “A bit of a ladies’ man,” the woman had said dropping her voice and giving a wink when her husband had gone into the back room. “A bit of a naughty boy. Lovely man. Much missed.”
As she walked back up to the cottage with Mart, Lucy wondered if Old Clem’s naughtiness had extended to the shopkeeper’s wife. She rather thought it had or, at least, he had tried!
A lovely day spent sightseeing with a good pub lunch. Ploughman’s lunch for both of them with plenty of local crusty bread, a good hunk of cheese, local ham and an apple. Lucy had been keen, that evening, to show the new wife could cook—not that Mart did not already know that. She had cooked plenty of times before—and he, himself, was not a bad cook either.
Roast local lamb with rosemary from the garden, new potatoes, carrots and broccoli. Wonderful with a light red wine. Mart had chilled it in the ’fridge, which had surprised Lucy but it had worked.
Again, sexual intercourse but this time before bed. They had cuddled as they watched a film and Mart had reverted to courting days when his hands had started infiltrating Lucy’s clothing and they had ended up fucking on the sofa half undressed.
“Stop, stop, stop,” Lucy had said.
Mart had looked puzzled.
“This is stupid. We’ve a perfectly good bed to go to.”
But he had caught her again on the stairs and with her jeans and knickers already removed she could not escape the invading penis.
“This isn’t safe. We shouldn’t play on stairs!”
But play he did!
Lucy escaped, or was allowed to escape, but Mart caught up with her on the bed. For the third or was it the fourth time that evening Mart pushed himself into her. She was on all fours on the bed, her husband’s penis sliding into her from the rear. The blinds were open but the room light was not on. Still, perhaps, the light from the landing coming through the door and the sky not having fully darkened would have meant not all was hidden from a watcher.
Again, she thought of Old Clem as Mart worked away. Had he perhaps had more than one girl or woman in the room, perhaps even bed? It looked old, though the mattress was clearly new. The shopkeeper’s wife had described him as lovely but ‘naughty.’ Had she perhaps visited him and been with him in that very bed? Had he perhaps, too, taken her from behind?
Lucy awoke in the night with the distinct impression her breasts had just been fondled. The covers had been thrown off during the night by the two of them but in the faint light coming through the blinds from the brightening sky, Mart seemed turned from her and fast asleep. It had been a distinct impression though. Perhaps she had been dreaming.
Another glorious day. Not a day for sightseeing but a day walking in the hills. They climbed up a combe, following a steep path between oaks, hawthorn and mountain ash—the rowan tree—until they came out onto open grassland with the hills rising further before them. Hiking boots, light packs with lunch within, but not waterproofs. Rain was neither forecast nor at all likely. Both wore shorts and short sleeved shirts underneath hats. Light clothes for a hot, sunny day. They could, actually, with suitable sunscreen, have walked completely naked. They were married, after all, and saw virtually nobody. Certainly not close to. The sheep would not have minded.
Sex in the open air is a delight, if it is a sufficiently warm day and the participants feel ‘safe’ and unworried. The couple had no intention of walking naked but having sexual intercourse outdoors was certainly on their minds. Unsaid but there. It was a bit too open before lunch—a picnic on the top of a hill with wonderful views, but coming back down towards a wooded combe, Mart drew them off the path to one side along a sheep track towards a rocky outcrop and trees. They found themselves on a patch of grass with the rocks rising behind them, the trees to one side dropping into the combe and the countryside spread before them down below.
By mutual consent they paused and kissed. Lucy knew then that she would be unlikely to return from the walk with her vagina unfilled. By mutual consent this would be the place.
“Warm day,” commented Mart.
Lucy smiled, “we don’t really need clothes do we!”
“Not really. Shall we?”
There was something naughty. Yes, Lucy thought, in an Old Clem way indeed, about taking all one’s clothes off there on the hills in an almost public place. But that is just what she did. Even before Mart had got his boots off, she was naked. She walked a little way across the grass and turned to look at her husband just pulling his shirt off. What a fine figure of a man with penis to match. Hard and erect with those so important hanging balls. She would need them one day to give her babies.
“I’m going to have a wee first.” Lucy squatted and released her stream. It sparkled in the sunshine, a thick stream. Not hidden at all from her man. He had a clear view right between her legs. And then he too did the same. Some men, she knew, could not wee erect but clearly Mart was not one of them. All of a sudden out it came, arcing up into the air and falling down. It was strangely sexual, liquid pouring, or rather shooting, from his male organ.
“Do it again, Mart, make it spurt.” And he did, stopping and starting, so his wee came in successive spurts like a massive ejaculation. She had watched Mart ‘come’ mostly by her own hand on quite a few occasions. It was both a giggle and rather sexual to see him doing somewhat the same in such a dramatic fashion out in the open on the hillside.
Relieved, and with Lucy feeling a little damp from it—but that mattered not, she would be much wetter soon, the couple walked together a little further across the grass leaving clothes and packs behind. Naked and holding hands they looked out over the countryside. It felt very free, and very sexual. Lucy reached and held her husband’s erection, fondling it gently, cupping his hanging scrotum and then gently drawing the foreskin up and then down. It was lovely how it was just there for her. A so visible demonstration of his need for her. Mart too reached and slid a hand between her buttocks to her sex and a finger into her. They masturbated the other as they looked out over the view.
Lucy dropped to her knees on the grass and took her husband’s knob into her mouth. Such a lovely thing to do. Such a right thing to do. It felt so smooth, so warm and so hard filling her mouth as she gently ran her lips down and up. Just so good having his cock in her mouth but she also wanted it in her ‘properly.’
It was cowgirl there on the grass, Lucy pushing down onto Matt’s erection and into herself as she looked down at his face and his widening eyes as she did so. “Good?” It certainly felt that way to her. Quite amazing really to have her husband’s body—his knob—so far inside her. Lucy rode, up and down her husband’s hard penis until there was a warning grunt from him.
She paused, “Yes?”
Lucy was careful. She paused and then lifted herself off. Riding as she was she had been not looking at the view, she had been facing the hill. She turned but instead of resuming ‘reverse cowgirl’ she shuffled backwards up Mart’s body. Rather than ride his cock she would ride his tongue for a while. It seemed rather naughty sitting on Mart’s face, plonking her wet pudenda down upon him like that. There before her was the view and, down below, Mart’s erection all wet from her. She let it alone as she settled with a wriggle to enjoy whatever Mart did with his tongue and lips along with the view. It was only as she became really worked up that she leant forward and ran her tongue along the wet penis. A rasping, wet lick from the leaking urethra—how nice to taste the salty seepings of her man’s ‘seed,’ down the fraenum, flicking the little taut line of skin with her tongue before pulling it up, sail like, with her lips. Her tongue continued on down the raised ridge so firm under her tongue, before taking each ball in its wrinkled sack into her mouth in turn.
All the while Mart’s lips and tongue were working, and their ministrations proved successful—Lucy came, there on the hillside. Perhaps inevitably, with the throes of orgasm wracking her, Lucy sucked too enthusiastically upon the penis to her front, sucked on the plum in her mouth and, perhaps again, inevitably got a result. Her man came too, flooding her mouth with his warm, spurting semen. How nice to come like that!
Perhaps unwisely, but not very given they had seen nobody and were fairly much hidden away, the two lovers went to sleep for a short while after their sex. Two people naked on the hillside away from their clothes.
Lucy had expected to resume their walk with semen dripping into her knickers but in fact, whilst well inside her, it was in her stomach rather than her vagina. Nice to walk naked like that back to their clothes hand in hand. So nice walking naked that, whilst they put boots and shirts on, they left off their shorts and walked half naked onwards, Lucy looking like she was wearing a very short dress, but Mart had his hanging penis and balls very clearly exposed and, to Lucy, so sweetly swinging. She even held him by the penis as they walked for a time. Perhaps it was the sort of thing lots of couples do on their honeymoon.
In bed that night, Mart seemed anxious to fill the vagina he had not been permitted to fill earlier that day. Lucy was hardly going to object and was happy enough to be encouraged into arousal and return the passion. Unlike with Mart’s oral work on the hillside Lucy did not actually reach orgasm. Mart rolled off her, having done the filling he had wanted to do, and was asleep in seconds. Lucy pouted but settled herself to sleep too. You could not win them all. Lucy slept.
She thought she was dreaming but it was so nice. It was as if Mart was atop her again, her legs spread and sexual intercourse underway. It was not Mart, she knew that, but in the way of dreams was not terribly worried. She was very aroused and heading for a nice orgasm. She just let herself, in her dream, be fucked and felt the dream man come when she did.
It was good waking in the bed with Mart beside her having slept so well. And how refreshed she felt, remembering not just Mart having fucked her but having that very realistic dream of being taken all the way to coming.
Lucy really wanted a wee, but her fingers found her sex and she played quietly with herself remembering. Not quietly or gently enough because a voice in her ear asked what she was doing.
“Um, playing, Mart.”
The covers were thrown back and her guilty hand exposed.
“Do me too.”
Mart’s penis was not at all lying there but hard and up his stomach. He reached and brought Lucy’s other hand to it and she masturbated both of them, her fingers in her wetness and her other hand sliding his skin. Mart watched it all closely, clearly enjoying both his penis being played with and seeing his wife making herself come. She came and so did he. Lovely to see the result of her handwork spurting all white from his penis up onto his stomach and chest.
Lucy looked from her husband’s ejaculation and shrinking penis to her own spread thighs and then up to the chest of drawers. Upon it one of the framed photos of Old Clem looking out at her. Had Mart brought that upstairs? It had been in the hall.
Another glorious day. Another day sightseeing. A meal at a restaurant and then back to the cottage for bed and sex. They were both a little tired as they got into bed, but they were on honeymoon, it was more than just a good night kiss! The restaurant had been very friendly and the waiter, the proprietor actually, had asked where they were staying and had told them more about Old Clem. He had been quite a pal of the restauranteur’s father it seemed. They had been in the War together and done a lot together afterwards. He had described fond memories of childhood where Old Clem had been happy to play cricket and other games with him. “Such a lovely old boy,” he had said, “kind and generous, everyone loved him… particularly the ladies.” It had been obvious something was being left unsaid.
Lucy was getting her glass of water ready for bed. Mart was upstairs, and she was in the kitchen without the light on. She turned to the window and looked out. Up the track in the moonlight came the figure of an old man. Lucy stared in disbelief. It could not be. The garden gate opened and closed. She heard it. Lucy rushed to the front door and opened it but there was no one there. No one in the porch, no one in the garden, no one at the gate, no one on the track. Had she imagined it?
Lucy awoke in the pitch blackness of the night. She was warm and ‘snuggly’ in her bed but was immediately conscious someone, therefore Mart, was there, standing beside her bed. Had he just visited the bathroom to deal with a call of nature? She reached out to touch him and her hand found the firm, warm hardness of an erection. Really, she wanted to go straight back to sleep. Had he been standing there thinking about her all naked under the bedclothes? Had he perhaps been wanking as he thought of her? Her hand closed, and she moved the mobile skin back and forth, and then, getting up on an elbow, she leant in with her lips. Lucy was no stranger to fellatio. She might only be married a few days, but Mart and she had been going out for two years. Her lips sought and found. They slipped over the rounded, so smooth knob and began a rhythmic sliding. To and fro, up and down until, yes, she felt a shaking and a hint of manly thrusting before the warm spurting of a penis.
Lucy settled back on her pillow, licking her lips and preparing to swallow. The semen in her mouth seemed just to melt away. Mart had, after all, come inside her before sleep. Perhaps there had not been much ejaculate. She was asleep before she could think more.
It was lovely waking to the early morning sunshine streaming through the cottage window onto her bed. The view out of the window wonderful, and there beside her, sheet thrown back was her new husband with his manly organ extended—as it so often was. Lucy stared at both the sleeping man and his erection. All hers—her man!
Should she? The thought moistened her. Should she wake him to find he was already inside her. Could she get on him ‘cowgirl’ before he awoke? Her fingers slipped between her thighs, delving into the protecting curls and lips to touch herself intimately. Her fingers entering herself, finding she was both sticky and moist from the night before. She pushed her fingers inwards, opening herself. Yes, his penis would go in with ease. Lucy moved, Lucy straddled and lifted, Lucy settled herself down feeling the hard, male organ slide up into her.
Of course, that awoke Mart and of course he had to complete his husbandly duty before he could go and relieve himself. They did not change positions. Lucy rode him to completion, bringing herself off in the process. Very nice!
“I liked sucking you in the night,” she snuggled into his shoulder after they had come apart, her voice soft and close to his ear.
“Mmmm, beside the bed, when you stood there.”
“Yeah, sucking you until you came.”
“I think you were dreaming. I’d have remembered that.”
Lucy rather thought he would. It was puzzling.