The Lover's Children

Chapter 37 – The Idylls of March #9

MICHAEL

Two hours later, all the walls are up, roughly bolted together, the roof is in place and I’m busy with my

drill and screwdriver. “Thanks. It would have taken me all day by myself.”

“My pleasure.” Klempner gestures toward where the door stands hinged but unattached. “Want me to

get that fixed into place?”

My reply is cut short by the arrival of Mitch, Vicky bundled in her arms. “Ah, there you are.” She smiles

brightly at Klempner, and I almost see the light switch on in the man. “Am I interrupting? Larry, I’ve

made lunch...”

“Lunch?” Klempner glazes over. “I don’t think…”

Mitch shivers then, pulling the wrap tighter around Vicky, tosses her head at the lowering clouds. “I

thought something solid inside would be a good idea. You’d be welcome to join us, Michael if you’d like

to. I’ve made plenty. Chicken casserole. Dumplings too.”

“Dumplings?” Something like despair flits across Klempner’s features, but he injects a ghost of

enthusiasm into his tone. “Sounds good.”

My excuses are easier. “Thanks, Mitch, but no. Charlotte’s expecting me. And we’d not have gotten

much more done today. We’ve had the best of the morning. The weather’s on the turn again.” The

clouds pile up, threatening to swallow the sunshine.

“Come inside, Larry. You don’t want it to get cold.”

I wave them off. “Enjoy your meal.”

*****

Klempner leaves with Mitch.

The overhead sunshine is brilliant, but from the horizon, dark clouds are racing in, heavy with rain and

threatening a soaking if I don’t get under cover fast. Even from here, the blur of falling rain is visible,

moving my way. In under a minute, the heat of the sun cuts off and the breeze, previously fresh on my

face, bites in.

March is living up to its In Like A Lion reputation.

What’s the rest of it?

Oh, yes…

In like a lion…

… Out like a lamb...

Maybe it will pass…

From the doorway of the chicken-shed-to-be, nursing the back end of Sally’s soup, I watch rain that

falls like liquid diamonds. Still recovering from the elephantine lunch, it’s only the heat I want, and I

taste sparingly.

Briefly, the clouds clear from around the sun, the sky turns a brilliant blue, and sunlight slants down in

that breath-taking effect photographers call ‘The Fingers of God’. The light sparkles through individual

raindrops, giving everything the kind of intense, saturated colour you only get with sunshine and rain

together. Or maybe sometimes when the morning is clear and dewy.

The clouds return. The day darkens and the landscape greys out. From under my makeshift cover, I

watch the falling rain.

And as happens when a man is doing nothing particular, my mind drifts to other things…

Well… Sex…

Not that I’m uninterested to begin with, but knowing that Charlotte wants another baby, by me, has set

my libido raging.

Wonder what she’s doing?

The rain falls harder, splashing onto the ground, bouncing back.

It’s not as though I can work in this…

The clouds pile up, growing darker all the time. Scruffy whines. “Want to make a dash for it?”

His stumpy tail wags. I knock back the last of my soup, then tugging my jacket over my head, sprint to

the house.

I make it to the door dripping. I might as well not have bothered with the jacket. Apparently, the local

rain can fall upwards. But a wave of heat floods out, the scent of coffee flooding with it. Following my

nose, I find the source in the kitchen, Charlotte lifting the pot from the hob. Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Coming up from behind, I slide a hand around her waist, rest the other just under a breast. “Smells

good.” I nuzzle into her neck. “You doing anything important?”

My delectable wife Mmmms. “I was just bringing this out to you.” She turns into my embrace, then pulls

back, patting at my clothes, “Michael, you’re soaked. For God’s sake, get those clothes off before you

go down with something.”

“Get my clothes off and go down? Pretty much what I had in mind.”

She chuckles. “Fine, but first…”

“Ah, my apologies. Didn’t mean to interrupt…”

*****

JAMES

I’d not meant to walk in on them. Working, I was ready for a break and simply followed the smell of

coffee.

But as I enter the kitchen, it’s plain that Michael is cornering Charlotte…

Again…

“Ah, my apologies. Didn’t mean to interrupt…”

… then I realise I shouldn’t even have spoken…

Charlotte breaks into a laugh. “You’re not interrupting. I was telling Michael to get out of his wet

clothes.”

The Hmmph escapes me unbidden. “A likely story.” But I’m laughing inside as I follow the drips on the

floor. “Michael, whatever your plans were, get a dry robe on. Charlotte, if that pot of coffee is fresh, you

can serve it all round.”

“Of course, Master. Sit by the fire. I’ll pour you some.”

By the time Michael returns, now in a robe, hair roughly towelled dry, I’m stacking the fire with extra

logs. There’s a look in Michael’s eye…

He leans back in his seat, bare feet propped up on the table as he cradles his coffee. He meets my

gaze, exchanges Temptation’s Glance. “Charlotte, where are your mother and father?”

“They went out. Mom wanted to get some new things for Vicky.”

“And Cara and Adam?”

“They’re in the nursery…” She waves a hand at the baby monitor, blinking but silent. “They’re asleep.

Why…?” She pauses, mouth hanging open… “Ah…” … as she looks to him, then me, then back again.

Michael sets his coffee mug down. “Charlotte, your Master expects to be serviced. Strip.”

A snatch of air…

Our shared wife responding…

Her breath quickening…

Charlotte’s eyes widen with that Rabbit In The Headlamps look she gets. Fingers at the buttons of her

blouse, she slips them open, sliding the garment back over her shoulders. Already she’s flushing,

crimson highlighted against her pale skin, the white lace trim of her bra. Michael slings back his drink. I

finish mine. Charlotte stands naked before us.

My turn to speak…

To Master her…

Setting my mug by the hearth, I move to stand over her, eye-pointing the worktop. “Charlotte, lean

forward over the counter. Facedown. Legs open. Spread your arms forward.”

*****

MICHAEL

She obeys him, arms outstretched, breasts pressing against the granite surface, her pale ass

presented. She’s a lovely sight from behind, the spread of her hips tapering to a waist still taut and

narrow after her first child. Her hair fans out, copper-red and silken over the counter.

I push her down, my palm between her shoulder blades, then shove her ankles apart with my bare feet.

As her thighs open, the tang of her arousal billows up. James watches, his normally dark eyes even

darker, creasing at the corners.

“I think she’s ready for you now, James.”

“I’d say you're right.” He stands behind her, a cheek cupped in either hand, then runs palms over her,

massaging, soothing, sliding from the firm flesh of her rump, up and over her waist, her ribs, her

shoulders, then back again, outlining her with his touch as he goes.

He has her quivering when, standing back, open-handed, he slaps her across the butt. Not hard, but

enough to get her attention. Charlotte gasps, jarring with the sting, and would rise. But I pin her, my

hand pressing between her shoulders. “No one said you could move.”

James swats again. He’s still not serious about it. Charlotte inhales sharply but doesn't move.

“That's better,” he says. “Learn to behave yourself. Grip the edge of the counter.” He leans over her, his

chest against her spine. His face close by hers, “I'm going to make your ass burn. When it's glowing,

Michael's going to fuck you and you're going to suck me off. Yes?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Michael, why don't you stand where you can see properly. I'm sure you'd enjoy a good view of where

you'll be sinking your cock.”

Charlotte's breath hitches and she doesn't see the smile tugging James’ lips as he watches her

response. She's already pinking up, the blood rushing to her normally creamy skin, handprints

beginning to bloom. Her pussy is pinker, the slit glistening.

James slaps again, harder. His palm connects with a smack that ripples flesh. He rubs at the reddening

spot, then slaps again, hard. It has to sting him as much as her. Charlotte huffs and wheezes, but

James is already bringing down another stroke.

This time, he’s really trying. Charlotte yelps and quivers. James mouths silent curses, shaking his open

palm. I hide the laugh behind my hand.

“What do you say now, Charlotte?”

“Master?”

“You heard the first time.”

A pause… “Master, may I have another?”

“You may.” James swings and slaps. Long-limbed as he is, he swings his arm like a hitter going for the

strike, and he connects with a Crack!

Charlotte howls, but her ass is scarlet and her vulva more so. The flesh is swollen and puffy and a thin

stream gleams as it trickles down her thighs.

With an air of experiment, James dips in a couple of fingers, withdraws them slick and shiny, sucks

them clean. “If you'll excuse me, Michael, this will be all yours shortly, but I'm not going to pass up an

opportunity.” He drops to his knees then, a hand either side, peels her folds apart, opening up her

pussy. Leaning back, he examines his handiwork, nostrils flaring. He inhales, exhales. “Lovely.”

Moving in, he sucks at her, licks at her, working his way from pussy to clit and back again. Charlotte

shudders and shakes…

Self-control failing?

I move around to help her out, pinning her at the wrists. “Your Master is taking his pleasure…”

Charlotte’s face is almost as flushed as her backside. “… Behave yourself and stay still. Better yet…” I

unbuckle, unbutton my fly and aim my shaft at her face. “Open up. James is going to finish in there, but

I’ll start it off.”