Mystery At Brackenwood - Part 1 free porn video

It was now May 2002. The incident with Tom was still in my thoughts, and whilst I knew that the outcome had been the right one, I found myself slipping down into a depressive state of mind.

I had begun to recognise the signs a few days after seeing Tom that evening. The constant sexual hunger I had grown to accept as normal for me seemed to fade. And with it, the need to masturbate several times a day was no longer there. My energy levels dropped, and everything became an effort.

Life had lost its excitement for me, and a cloud seemed to descend and pervade my senses. Back at boarding school, both Emily and Alex noticed my dramatic change of mood. Suddenly, almost overnight, they found that I was no longer the sex mad, promiscuous horny girl they had known. Alex couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to suck his penis during our sexual liaisons, and, for the first time since we met, I wasn’t able to reach orgasm when we had intercourse. Emily was upset when I told her I didn’t want her to masturbate me.

My eighteenth birthday came and went in April. My parents arranged for me and a few of my friends to go to London in a stretch limousine, and have an evening out clubbing. It was nice to be with them, but passed me by.

At the end of May that year, we had a long Bank Holiday weekend, to celebrate the Queens Golden Jubilee. This meant a four day weekend, with Monday and Tuesday off.

My parents had arranged to spend the weekend down at Brackenwood, their property in Cornwall, and had invited a number of friends and colleagues to join them.

I travelled down to Cornwall with my parents on the Friday evening, 31st May. Jenny, my parents trusted housekeeper and nanny, had travelled down a couple of days earlier, to open up the house and sort out the rooms, laundry and food arrangements. Whenever we had these large gatherings, her calm and efficient support was invaluable...in fact I am sure my parents couldn’t manage without her.

In addition to Jenny, my mother had hired a freelance chef to provide the catering over the weekend. This was quite a regular occurrence, and we had used the same chef a couple of times previously, as he seemed to be very good. With a houseful of guests to cater for, even Jenny’s culinary skills weren’t up to keeping appetites satisfied. According to Jenny, he was getting married the following weekend, and was understandably quite excited.

We arrived at around 7pm on the Friday evening. Despite my poor state of wellbeing, I did find my spirits lifted upon arrival, as the car swept through the large iron gates and down the long gravel driveway, finally pulling up in front of the front entrance.

I was quick to go to my bedroom and unpack my things. A number of guests we due to arrive that night, but I wasn’t in the frame of mind to see anyone. I just wanted to get to bed, much to my parents annoyance.

“Darling, I really think you ought to stay up and wait for our guests to arrive,” my mother whined in the car on the journey. “Its terribly bad manners not to be there to greet them you know.”

“Their your guests, Mother, not mine,” I remember replying, grumpily.

Maybe I could have been more diplomatic, but it was true. All the guests were either friends or business colleagues; Charles and Pamela Hartington, Anthony and Serena Atherley, Sir Richard and Lady Helen Ormsby – Gore, Peter West OBE, David and Annette Raddner, William Corby QC and his wife Nicola, Ian and Susan Atkinson and Paul and Margaret Harrison.

Whilst I was aware of some of these people, I had never met any of them, and didn’t really see it as my role to receive them on their arrival.

So that night, feeling pretty low and certainly not in the frame of mind to socialise, I stayed in my room, and was asleep by 10pm.

At 2am on Saturday morning, I woke up with a start. I’m not sure why...but I was very thirsty, and feeling rather lightheaded. I lay still for a few minutes, before getting out of bed and walking in the semi darkness across my large bedroom to the window. Pulling back the curtains, I gazed out into the clear night across to the wide expanse of Falmouth harbour, lights shimmering on the calm waters.

The view from my bedroom was stunning, even at night, and sitting there on my window seat was, and still is, one of my favourite places to be. As my bedroom was up on the 2nd floor of the house, and a corner room, I had panoramic views of both the sea and land. The old house had seen many changes over the decades since it was built, but never lost its charm and character, even through the bad times.

I decided to go downstairs and make myself a cup of tea. The kitchen was quite a journey, as it was situated on the lower ground floor, originally part of the old Victorian kitchens from when the house was first built.

Therefore I had to walk down two flights of stairs to get to the ground floor, then once I had reached the bottom of the oak staircase in the hallway, follow the flagstone corridor which led from the hallway, past the dining room, eventually reaching a small flight of four, foot worn stone steps which arrived in the large kitchen.

I looked for my dressing gown, before realising that it hadn’t been packed, so instead slipped one of my T shirts over my head, pulled on a pair of knickers, before quietly opening my bedroom door and padding silently along the landing, past a couple of bedrooms and down the stairs to the first floor.

The sleeping house seemed to be watching me, as I passed more bedroom doors on the first floor, then down again until I arrived in the elegant, gothic hall at the bottom of the staircase. Then along the corridor to the old kitchen.

Although modernised over the years, the kitchen still had the feel of history about it. There was still the old fire range, with a large iron spit in front of it, powered through a chain and pulley system by a heat fan up in the huge chimney breast.

Next to the range was the huge Aga, and dominating the room, a long oak table, showing the signs of years of food preparation. Hanging from the ceiling were all sorts of kitchen utensils..some familiar, but some not.

I went across the kitchen to the Aga, and switched on the light above it in the alcove, which threw a soft light onto the hobs. There was a large, flat bottomed kettle sitting on the warming plate already, which contained enough water for a cup of tea, so I lifted the lid of one of the hot plates and moved the kettle on to it.

Still feeling rather strange, I sat down on one of the old kitchen chairs, and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of the kettle heating up. It had become a familiar routine for me over the past few weeks, waking in the middle of the night, not able to settle back down gain. During my depressive times, my sleep patterns were often erratic and disturbed, which then seemed to make me feel even more tired and depressed, in a never ending downward spiral.

I was roused from my thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming along the long stone corridor, used by servants in long ago days. Surprised, I turned to see a tall, distinguished looking middle aged man appear at the top of the steps leading down into the kitchen. He was wearing a deep red, satin dressing gown and slippers.

“Ah... good morning my dear,” he said, in a low voice, almost a whisper. “So, you couldn’t sleep either?” He walked across the kitchen, round the table towards me.

I stood up, both surprised and a bit embarrassed to be found down in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, wearing just a flimsy pink T shirt and pair of white lace knickers, by a man I had never met.

“No...I am just making myself a drink,” I replied. He nodded, and smiled.

“I assume you must be Katherine?”

I pulled a face. “Well...I prefer Katie.” 

“Well...Katie it is then. Nice to meet you Katie. I am Richard...a colleague of your fathers.”

Sir Richard Ormsby-Gore, eminent Barrister and a senior partner in the chambers of which my father was a partner, held out his hand, and I shook it. As I did so, I noticed his gaze flicker up and down, as he took in the details of my appearance...my long, blonde tousled hair falling around my shoulders in an untidy, just got up fashion...my cheap cotton T shirt, which clung to the roundness of my pert breasts, and struggled in vain to reach my waist, leaving my slender stomach partially uncovered.

And then my white lace knickers, sheer cut and leaving little to the imagination. Even in the dimly lit kitchen, the fine, delicate material revealed that my pussy was completely shaved, a detail which I could tell hadn’t gone unnoticed by Sir Richard.

“Nice to meet you Sir Richard," I replied, and smiled cutely, as he reluctantly brought his eyes back to mine.“Can I make you a drink?” 

“Well..that’s very kind of you..thank you..a cup of tea would be nice.”

I nodded, and went to get the cups from the cupboard, as the kettle began to boil.

I was well aware that the situation I now found myself in had echoes of the experience I had had 3 years earlier, with the dishwasher repair man. However, this time it was different. I was different. I wasn’t in a mental state to even think about playing games. In any other time and place, I would have probably have tried something. But not tonight.

I put the teabags in, then poured water into the cups.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Sir Richard from behind me.

“Oh, well I hope it was good,” I replied, stirring the tea.

“Oh, of course. Your parents are very proud of you.” I smiled to myself. This wasn’t something they had ever shared with me!

“They didn’t tell me what a pretty girl you are though,” he added, his voice quieter now.

“Oh..well...thanks”, I replied. I wasn’t in the mood for this! “Milk, sugar?”

“Just milk, thank you my dear.”

I went to the fridge, now not wanting to face him. I didn’t want to encourage him any further by giving him the excuse to look at my private parts again. Pouring the milk, I gave the teas a final stir and put the milk back in the fridge.

I picked up his cup and turned round to hand it to him. He gave me a smile, and reached out to take the cup, and it was then that I noticed.

As he stood there, just a few inches away from me, I realised that Sir Richards satin dressing gown was partially open at the front, and the belt untied, hanging loose. As he took the cup from me, I found myself staring at his semi erect penis, steadily raising itself up as I gazed in complete shock.

For an older man, his penis still appeared to look like a young mans. His balls seemed full and heavy, held up tightly. It was only the greying pubic hair which gave away his age.

He was now holding his cup, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was exposing his erection to an eighteen year old girl.

“Oh...er..Sir Richard...your ...” I stumbled my words out, genuinely shocked at the sight before me. The whole situation seemed so bizarre. Here I was, at 2.30 am, staring at a shaved, Knighted penis!

“Pardon, my dear?” he replied, apparently unaware of his state of revelation. He took a sip of his tea.

“I think you should cover yourself up, Sir Richard,” I finally managed to say. I pointed down to his crotch area.

He looked down and exclaimed, seemingly horrified.

“Oh my goodness...I am so sorry my dear.” By now his eager penis was pointing up towards me, its purple head proudly gazing back at me with a one eyed stare.

He quickly turned around and put his cup on the table, then wrapped the dressing gown around him, tying up the belt.

“This damn satin..it’s so slippery...the belt is forever untying itself. I am so sorry my dear..I had no idea, I promise you.”

At that moment, we both heard footsteps in the corridor, and turned to look . Down the steps appeared an elegant, slim lady..I guessed in her late forties or early fifties. 

“Richard..what are you doing down here? Who is this?” she stared at me, suspiciously.

I could understand why. Seeing her husband alone with an eighteen year old blonde who is wearing just a flimsy T shirt and see through lace knickers at 2.30 in the morning did seem rather odd!

“Ah..Helen...it’s you. I couldn’t sleep..came down to make a drink. Er...this is Katie...you know...Nancy’s daughter..she was down here too..she made me a drink.” He held up the cup of tea, as if showing the evidence in court.

There was an awkward pause, as if Helen was assessing the likelihood of the story, before she spoke. She eyed me up and down.

“Well, perhaps next time Katie should put more clothes on when she comes downstairs – especially with guests in the house.” She gave me a hard stare. I stared back defiantly. I decided that I didn’t really like her.

“Come on Richard – back upstairs.” With that she turned and left.

How dare she speak to me like that!

“I’d better go...sorry about that...nice to meet you Katie,” Sir Richard mumbled, apologetically. He picked up his cup of tea and left. I stared after him, hardly able to believe the events of the last few minutes.

Had I just imagined it all?

I returned to my bedroom, puzzled and confused. It seemed highly improbable that a man of Sir Richards standing and reputation would have deliberately behaved in such a way in front of the teenage daughter of his host and long standing business partner.

And it was plausible that his silk dressing gown had accidentally undone itself – the nature of the material did lend itself to loosening and slipping open.

And yet...

And yet, was it really possible for a man to stand in front of a young girl, with his penis completely exposed and erect, and not be aware of it?

Surely, if he was completely unaware of the dressing gown being open, his penis wouldn’t have become erect. Wasn’t it the knowledge that this teenage girl would be able to see his private parts that had caused him to become aroused?

It was all rather odd! I drank my tea, switched off my bedside light, lay down, and drifted off to sleep, visions of a penis poking out from between a dressing gown floating around my head.

*

I woke late the following morning, sun streaming through the windows. The events of the early hours somehow seemed like a distant dream now, but as I got up and walked across my room and into my en suite bathroom for a shower, I began to realise that something was different this morning.

It was me. I felt different. For the first time in weeks...in fact since Easter...I felt alive again. The cloud which had engulfed me in the days following the incident with Tom seemed to have somehow lifted during the sleeping hours since my encounter in the kitchen.

At first I wasn’t really sure what the feelings were...my depressive state of mind seemed to have become so entrenched in my psyche that it was hard to think of being any different.

But, as I stood in the shower, the warm water pouring over my nakedness, it felt as though my body was trying to give me a message. From somewhere deep inside, a burning hunger seemed to be developing, and for the first time in over 2 months, I found my fingers slipping down between my legs, searching for my puss.

Standing with my legs slightly parted, I rediscovered the contours and folds of my inner labia, the soapy water enabling my fingers to slide gently inside the tight, neglected opening of my vaginal canal. Almost as if in response, the muscles contracted around my fingers, as though my pussy was giving them a welcome back hug, after being away for so long.

I began to carefully slide my fingers in and out of my puss, whilst at the same time rubbing my firm clitoris with my left hand, and within moments the first quivers and trembles of orgasm started to ripple deep between my legs. I let out a moan of pleasure, long and low, as though releasing weeks of pent up sexual hunger, and bending my knees I slid down the tiled shower cubicle, until I was sat at the bottom, my legs wide apart, my smooth pussy now open to the sensations of warm water falling over it from high above.

Now working my fingers quicker, I could see that the deep red lips of my inner labia were now becoming swollen with arousal, pushing out and parting to expose the entrance to my vagina.

Hips now lifting up and down, my breathing was becoming shallow and rapid, sometimes letting out a loud groan as waves of orgasm began washing over me. And then, I came hard and strong, a sudden flood of thick girl cum gushing out between my legs into the shower tray, instantly mingling with the warm water from the shower. Slightly milky, it flowed out in four or five waves, the sensations so powerful that my whole body slipped, and I found myself on my back in the shower tray, legs up in the air, with cum pumping out from within me. With my hands at my sides to support me, it was as though my puss had gone into autopilot, no longer requiring my fingers for encouragement. Looking down, I was quite shocked to find that, without any stimulation whatsoever, my hips were now quivering rapidly back and forth, as my muscles contracted and relaxed in a climactic spasm of ecstasy. Gasping for breath, I watched my puss pump out my milky cum, as though powered by some invisible electric motor.

It was all I could do to just lie there under the pouring water and allow my body to regain its insatiable appetite for sexual pleasure. It was almost as though it was emerging from a two month long fast, and was now gorging itself , desperate for more.

Fifteen minutes later, I appeared downstairs for breakfast in the dining room with the guests, and I felt wonderful. After experiencing some of the best orgasms of my life, I was glowing, and more importantly, felt hungry for more. It was a though the events of the night before had acted as the catalyst I needed to kick start my mental and physical inertia back into action.

“Morning Darling,” my father greeted me, as walked into the room full of guests. He was sat at one end of the long dining table, my mother at the other. Down each side were sat assorted guests, all fifteen of them, who now all turned to look at me at once.

Rather embarrassed, I gave a smile. “Morning Dad...morning everyone.”

I quickly found my place at the table.

“This is our daughter, Katherine, everyone...I don’t think you’ve met her have you?” my father announced, proudly.

“Please..just call me Katie,” I replied immediately. I didn’t want everyone using my full name..I hate it.

There was a murmur around the table as people said hello to me. I overheard a lady at the end, sat next to my mother say “Well, you said she was a pretty girl..and you are right.”

My mother smiled. “Thank you,” she replied. I wondered whether she would still look so pleased with herself if she knew that her pretty, darling daughter had spent half an hour on her back in the shower, with creamy girl cum pouring out from her pussy like a river in flood.

At that moment Jenny came bustling into the room, carrying a tray with a tea and coffee pot on.

“Ah, you’re up at last then, sleepy head,” she said when she saw I was now sat at the table. “I wondered when you might make an appearance today,” she smiled.

“Sorry I’m late everyone. I didn’t sleep too well.” I explained. I smiled down the table, and noticed Sir Richard looking at me intensely. I guessed he was concerned that I might mention our early hours liaison in the kitchen, but I wasn’t about to.

“Oh you poor love,” Jenny soothed, “how about some coffee to wake you up?” She came round the table and poured me a cup. Lovely Jenny...I adored her.

“Perhaps it would be nice if you could all introduce yourselves, as some people don’t know each other..or Katherine,” my Father suggested.

So for the next few minutes, people introduced themselves, and finally my father welcomed them all, and hoped they would all have a nice weekend. It was an interesting mix of people..lawyers, accountants, a journalist, a nurse, a civil servant, a chief executive of a large publishing company.

Jenny ushered me over to the side table and helped me to cooked breakfast from the heated serving dishes, and I spent a pleasant time making polite conversation with the Atkinson’s and Corby’s. I discovered that my parents had invited their guests out for a cliff top walk along the coastal path that morning, before returning back for light lunch.

As we chatted I noticed Lady Helen looking at me a couple of times, and wondered what she was thinking. Somehow I didn’t trust her.

After breakfast we all went off to change into walking gear, and eventually met on the terrace overlooking the gardens at the back of the house. As usual my father led the way, out across the lawns, down the path through the woods, eventually coming to the gate which formed the edge of our land, backing onto the south west coastal path.

With eighteen of us in total, we formed quite a merry band, and as we got up onto the cliff, we spread out as those who were faster walkers began to pull ahead, leaving the others to follow on behind.

I walked with the Corby’s for a while, then the Harrisons. I was not sure I wanted to speak to either of the Ormsby-Gores after last night’s incident, and for a while I didn’t have to, as they were walking with my parents.

However, after about forty-five minutes, I realised that Sir Richard had dropped back and seemed to be waiting for me. I couldn’t really avoid him now.

“Hello, my dear...what a glorious morning isn’t it?” he said in his rather posh accent, almost sounding like an old retired officer from the RAF. He was aged about sixty, I guessed, tall and lean, with a full head of thick grey - white hair, and a grey moustache.

I agreed it was indeed a lovely day.

Sir Richard seemed to glance around, as if to see if anyone was nearby, and then spoke in a low tone.

“I do hope we can keep last night’s little accident our little secret my dear...I mean, it was just simply an accident...I hope to realise that?” I looked at him, and gave him a look of mock surprise.

“Sir Richard, of course I realise that. I am sure it wasn’t done on purpose.”

“Ah..well..no..no..of course not. I do hope you weren’t offended ....I mean...it must have been a shock for you my dear.” I assured him that no, I wasn’t offended.

“Good..good...well, that’s alright then...I just wanted to clear up any misunderstanding...you know...that you might have had.” I told him that I understood perfectly.

“After all,” I added, “ it wouldn’t be very polite to expose yourself to a young girl deliberately, would it?” He shot me a glance, and I smiled back at him innocently.

“Quite so..quite so,” he replied.

“And I suppose Lady Helen was right...I should have put more clothes on. I just didn’t expect to meet anybody at that time of the morning.”

“Well..no..I suppose not,” he said, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“So I do hope you weren’t offended either – seeing me like that?” I asked, coyly.

“Oh, no..no..of course not...course not. Well..I’ll go and catch up with the others now.”

With that, he marched on leaving me to walk by myself. I knew now that it had not been a simple accident. Naughty Sir Richard!

As the cliff top walk continued on, I found my thoughts racing, and for the first time in weeks realised that my pussy was tingling and wet again. Since my early teens, I had become used to the fact that, regardless of what else was going on, or what I was thinking or doing, my pussy tended to always be wet...it was almost my default position.

But over the past few weeks of my depression, it had lost its usual moisture, and I could feel no sexual sensation at all down there. But now, as I walked, I could feel once again the warm, damp feelings returning between my legs.

We had reached a viewpoint on the walk, and gradually we all congregated together again to admire the panorama before us. The Cornish coast is just so spectacular, and on a clear day like this we could see for miles all down the coast.

We set off again, and I was surprised when Lady Helen came alongside me and took hold of my elbow.

“Shall we walk together for a while Katherine?” I took it as less a question, but more a demand, from the tone of her voice.

“That would be nice, Lady Helen,” I replied, pretending to be thrilled. There was a pause as we strolled side by side, and then she got to the point.

“I noticed you chatting to my husband earlier,” she said, vaguely.

“Yes..I was.” I was wary of what to say to her.

“I think it only fair to warn you that Sir Richard can sometimes become...rather attached.. to young ladies,” she said, rather mysteriously. I didn’t say anything.

“How old are you, Katherine?”

“I was eighteen last April."

She nodded. “ Yes...girls your age seem to be a weakness for him,” she said, almost to herself. I looked at her. She seemed anxious and on edge.

“I just want you to be aware that Sir Richard’s behaviour towards girls can sometimes be ...inappropriate...and I wouldn’t want you to find yourself in a difficult situation with him, Katherine.”

“Oh...I see,” I responded. I wondered now if she had indeed seen what had occurred in the kitchen last night. I wasn’t sure.

“He is a lovely man, but sometimes can’t help himself,” she continued, “ I’ve spent the last twenty-five years of marriage trying to keep him out of trouble.” I remember thinking that perhaps I could hear a tone of sadness, even pain, behind her words.

We walked in silence for a few moments, and I didn’t really know what to say to her.

“I’d like to ask you to do something for me, Katherine,” she said suddenly. I looked at her, surprised.

“Well..I suppose so. What do you mean?” I replied.

“Please try to keep your distance from him...don’t encourage him. He has his eye on you already, you know. I can tell. He can behave rather badly when there is a pretty young girl around, and I don’t want you to have to see him like that. Will you try?” She was almost begging me, and it was sad to hear.

“Well..I am sure things will be fine, Lady Helen...but yes, I will try to be careful," I said. I couldn’t tell her that it was already too late ...he had already started behaving badly!

She nodded, and we walked on until we caught up with the others.

We all arrived back for light lunch of a salad buffet, with a whole poached and dressed salmon, baked gammon ham and slices of roast chicken breast. The spread looked amazing, all laid out along the long serving table at the side of the dining room.

“My word, Jenny, you do us proud, you really do,” praised my father. Jenny looked pleased.

“Well...it’s not much...anyway, I just lay it out..the chef does the hard work,” she replied modestly.

It was a lively lunch, and people seemed invigorated by their morning cliff top walk. My father asked what people would like to do in the afternoon, and suggested he take a few of them out in the motor boat, which he kept in the boathouse by our private beach.

“On a day like this, it will be a lovely cruise along the coastline,” he said cheerfully.

Several guests loved that idea.

“Or we have tennis racquets, if anyone fancies a game?” my mother chimed in.

“That’s a bit energetic my dear,” my father replied, “ Maybe people just want to sit out in the garden and relax until dinner.”

The conversations drifted on, and people gradually left the table to go their separate ways.

It had been decided that the Corby’s, Harrisons and Peter West would go out in the motor boat. The Atkinsons said they loved tennis, and Sir Richard also wanted to play. Everyone else seemed happy to spend time sitting out in the garden, or relaxing in the drawing room.

“Oh..that’s a pity,” I heard Susan Atkinson saying, in her rather high pitched voice. “Only three of us for tennis then.”

I made to leave the dining room, as I knew what was going to happen. I wasn’t quick enough!

My mother’s voice rose above the chatter. “Oh, don’t worry...Katherine darling...Katherine...you won’t mind making up a foursome, would you darling?” Then, to Susan, “Katherine is a marvellous tennis player you know.”

I had reached to doorway, but it was too late. Turning, I smiled sweetly. “Well..I don’t have the right clothes with me, mother.”

“I am sure that won’t be a problem..it’s only a friendly knockabout..not a match.”

I gave an inward sigh, and noticed Lady Helen looking at me, obviously aware that despite her best efforts, I was being pushed in her husband’s direction.

“Oh, good,” Susan Atkinson was saying, “You have a partner now, Sir Richard...lucky you!”

A while later, the four of us were on the tennis court. I had the pleasure of partnering Sir Richard. We had found the racquets and ball, and all changed our footwear. I always kept a pair of tennis shoes at Brackenwood, but didn’t have proper tennis clothing, so had put on a t shirt, and one of my short skirts.

The others had apparently been told to pack footwear if they wanted to play tennis, but they too didn’t really look dressed for the part. We got the game started, and it was obvious the Atkinson’s had played before..they were both quite good. My partner, however, wasn’t. Even with my reasonable abilities, there was no way I could breach the gap between the standard of play on our side of the net, and that of the opposition.

However, what Sir Richard lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm and noise, racing around the court like a man half his age, calling out loudly to me to “hit it” or shouting “well done, Katie” if I won a rally.

During the game, Jenny arrived with a tray of cold drinks for us, and stayed to watch for a while.

Eventually, we decided we’d had enough, and sat for a while in the sun on the grass beside the court, chatting. I looked back up to the house, and noticed my mother, with some of her other guests, sitting out on the terrace chatting. One person, however, wasn’t. Instead, Lady Helen was gazing down at us across the large lawn, obviously watching me intently to see what I was doing.

After a while we collected our things and walked back up to the house. We were all hot and needed to freshen up, so made our way up the staircase to our bedrooms. The Atkinson’s stopped off at their room on the first floor, whilst Sir Richard and I continued on up to the second floor, where I discovered that they were using the first room at the top of the stairs.

As we reached the top, Sir Richard thanked me for playing.

“You really are rather good, aren’t you, my dear,” he said. I thanked him, and said it was because I got a lot a practice at the tennis club back home.

“And I must say,” his voice lowered, “I did rather enjoy watching you bending over to pick up those balls.” He gave me a knowing wink. “ Quite a pleasant view from behind...if you know what I mean.”

I looked at him, and tried to feign shocked surprise.

“Sir Richard...that’s quite naughty of you,” I responded, “I’m not sure your wife would like to hear you saying that to me.”

With that, I continued on along the long passageway which led to my bedroom at the end, and went inside.

Well, I thought to myself, maybe that will stop him now. In any other situation, I would have probably reacted in a different way, but since I now knew that Lady Helen was taking a keen interest in me, I thought I should tread carefully. After all, Sir Richard was a very influential and important man in my father’s career, and I didn’t want things to go wrong there.

Once in my bedroom, I undressed, dropping all my clothes in a pile on the floor by my bed, and then went into my bathroom for a shower, shutting the door behind me. Soon I was back under the shower, and found myself once more fingering myself with soapy water. It didn’t take me long to begin quivering, and despite having already had multiple orgasms that morning, my naughty pussy seemed keen for more.

Whilst not being as overwhelmingly powerful as earlier on, I did squirt again, producing a small, clear spray of cum, which forced its way past my fingers and covered the clear glass wall of the shower cubicle.

I got out of the shower and dried off, before going back into my bedroom.

I didn’t notice at first.

Sitting down in front of my dressing table, I began to comb through my long wet hair, admiring myself in the mirror, as most 18 year old girls tend to do. It was so nice to be feeling more like my old, horny self again, and I realised as I gazed at my breasts, that even my nipples seemed to have regained their familiar tingle, and where pointed upwards, hard and erect.

And it was just then that I realised it. Something was not right. Something about the room had changed. I turned and looked around, scanning the scene. At first I couldn’t work out what had caused me to look ...but then I realised.

The pile of clothes was still on the floor by my bed. However, placed on the duvet were my pink knickers..the ones I had been wearing earlier when we were playing tennis. I knew I hadn’t put them on my bed...so how did they get there?

I stood and walked over to the bed ... and had another shock. My pink cotton knickers had been placed carefully on the duvet, and inside were covered with a layer of thick, creamy semen! I stared at them in disbelief, completely stunned, my head in a whirl.

Someone had come into my bedroom, whilst I was naked in the shower just next door, and masturbated into my knickers! And not only that – they had deliberately left them for me to find.

And, of course, I knew exactly who it was. How dare him! But at the same time...OMG! This was so exciting! I couldn’t believe it. To think that there I was, just through in the next room, naked in the shower, and Sir Richard had walked in and masturbated into my knickers! In fact, he had probably been masturbating at the same time as I had been in the shower!

I couldn’t help but admire his nerve...he must really have been feeling so horny to have taken such a huge risk. Imagine if I had walked out of my en suite and discovered him? And even now, finding his ejaculated cum in my underwear, what was he expecting me to do or say about it?

In fact, how does he know what I am going to do. What if I go and tell my parents what I’ve discovered? It could bring the whole house down around him. His career and reputation would be in ruins..all because he couldn’t stop himself from masturbating into my knickers.

With my head spinning, but my pussy tingling, I reached down and carefully picked up my cum filled knickers. He really had produced quite a lot of semen, which he had coated all over the inside of the material, from the front area down to the crotch, leaving a creamy layer behind.

Unable to resist, I put the knickers to my nose and smelt the musky aroma of him, and then dipped my index finger into his cream. It was still warm to the touch, and I realised that he must have deposited his load within minutes, or even seconds before I had emerged, naked, from my bathroom, having no idea what had just taken place in my bedroom.

I put my finger in my mouth and licked it clean. His taste filled my mouth, and I realised it had been weeks since I had last tasted Alex’s cum.

But now I was faced with a dilemma – what should I do now that Sir Richard had obviously decided to cross the boundaries of decency and privacy, and turn what could be described as simply flirting behaviour into something more akin to sexual harassment. In fact, he was behaving more like me, during my manic high periods, taking ridiculous risks simply to satisfy his sexual urges.

I stood for a while, with the cum filled knickers in my hand, trying to think through what I should do. Pretend it hadn’t happened? Tell Lady Helen? Tell my parents? Tell Jenny? Or speak to Sir Richard himself? Oh, what to do!

And then, as I stood looking down at the gift he had left me, my naughty mind began to formulate an idea. I remember smiling to myself as the thoughts began to run around my head, and a flutter of excitement travelled down between my legs.

Sir Richards behaviour had gone beyond simply “behaving badly”, as Lady Helen had described it. I had tried to keep my distance, and discourage him, but now he had put me in a situation which was very difficult to ignore.

I placed the knickers back on my bed, and then continued to get myself ready to go down to dinner. After doing my hair and makeup, I selected a dress for the occasion...a pretty floral pattern, pinched in at the waist, quite low cut but still decent, with the hem finishing just above the knees.

I put on a white lacy bra, then put the dress on. Finally, with some excitement, I picked up the soggy, cum filled knickers again, and proceeded to carefully pull them on, slipping them up my legs, trying not to let the contents touch my legs. Lifting up the hem of the dress, I pulled them right up, the thick, creamy semen making contact with my smooth, shaved pussy. It almost acted like a glue, pulling the thin, pink cotton against the delicate, complex folds of my labia, which were already puffy and parted with excitement. I gave the knickers a firm pull up, to ensure all his semen was in contact with my puss.

Now, slipping on my sandals, I was ready to go to dinner. Now it was Sir Richard who was in for a surprise!

When I arrived downstairs, everyone was gathered in the drawing room for pre dinner drinks, dressed formally for dining. I scanned the room, and found the Ormsby-Gores in conversation with Peter West and the Harrisons. Jenny was flitting about as usual making sure people had drinks, and my parents were busy entertaining.

I wandered over to my mother, and joined her group. By now the heat from my puss had warmed up the cum in my knickers, and I could feel it slipping over my lips as I walked across the room. I passed Sir Richard, and he gave me a furtive glance, which didn’t go unnoticed by his wife. I smiled knowingly at him, and he looked away...maybe he was now regretting his disgusting behaviour?

I needed to pick my moment carefully...wait for the right time.

After a few minutes, I noticed my father taking Sir Richard to one side. I made my move, and casually wandered over to join them.

“Ah, there you are Katherine...you look wonderful...don’t you think Richard?”

The was a slight pause. Sir Richard, for once, seemed stuck for words.

“Oh..yes..yes..enchanting..delightful,” he eventually responded, but I noticed that he couldn’t look me in the eye. For a man so keen to fill my knickers with cum, he now seemed rather shy around me.

“Thank you..that’s very kind of you Sir Richard – and you look rather dashing yourself,” I replied. He seemed uncomfortable, and shuffled feet. “Did you enjoy your tennis this afternoon?”, I asked.

“Yes..very good..and well played you..such a talent you have,” he said, stiffly. I smiled.

“I’ll leave you two to chat,” my father announced, “you can discuss tennis tactics.” He moved away to join another group. I took my chance.

“Sir Richard, perhaps we could go somewhere to talk for a moment,” I said, “somewhere a bit quieter?”

I didn’t wait for him to reply, but turned and made my way out of the room, leaving him little choice but to follow, at a discreet distance. Lady Helens back was turned, and so our exit went unnoticed.

I led him out into the hall, then through the dining room, and out through the French windows onto the terrace. We were alone outside, but I took him along to the far end of the terrace, round the corner of the house, so we couldn’t be seen.

“Where are you going?” he asked from behind.

I stopped and turned. “I just wanted us to be alone. I think we should talk.”

He stared at me, obviously nervous now. “Talk? What about?”

“Well..I just wanted you to know that I was quite shocked. I wasn’t expecting it. But I’ve thought about it, and I won’t tell anybody about what has happened..or what you said to me,” I told him.

“Oh...I see..well..thank you Katie. And as I said to you, I’m sorry if I offended you..I don’t mean to...I just get...carried away sometimes.”

Carried away? That was one way to put it! Creeping into a teenage girl’s bedroom and masturbating into her knickers was a bit more than getting carried away, in my opinion.

“Well..it’s done now,” I said, and then gave him a naughty smile. “Anyway..I’ve put them on - I thought you might like to see what they looked like.”

“Pardon...er..Katie, what are you talking...”.

He didn’t finish his sentence, but watched as I lifted the hem of my dress, and pulled it up to my waist with my left hand, to reveal my pink knickers, which were now darker in colour, as his cum had saturated the cotton, causing them to cling to the outline of my outer labia.

“You’ve made me a bit messy,” I continued, “but it does feel very nice.”

“But...Katie..” his words trailed away, as, using the thumb of my right hand, I pulled the elastic waist band of my knickers down, and peeled the cotton away from my shaved pussy’s soft, smooth skin.

Lucky Sir Richard gazed down in dumb silence, as he found himself looking at this 18 year old girl’s naked, shaved pussy, completely smothered in his own semen.

I carefully pulled the knickers further down my legs, which now enabled him to view my private parts in more detail, as the red, swollen lips of my cum coated inner labia protruded down between my legs.

I looked up at him. His eyes were as round as two saucers, his mouth open, but no sound came out. For a guy who seemed so keen to have some naughty fun with me, he now appeared to be completely overwhelmed by the situation.

“Don’t worry, Sir Richard...I am on the pill,” I reassured him. Then, with two fingers of my right hand, I began to rub the cum soaked cotton between my puffy folds of skin, and smiled at him, as he watched his semen being fingered deeper inside this teenagers pussy. As I did so, a trail of clear, flowing pussy juice appeared from between my lips, and spread over the pink cotton.

“Do you like watching me?” I asked, huskily, as I pushed my fingers deeper between my legs. He finally found his voice.

“Please Katie...you shouldn’t be doing this...it isn’t ...” He was interrupted by the sound of voices on the terrace.

“Well they’re not out here, Lady Helen,” I heard my mother call out.

I quickly pulled my spunky wet knickers back up, and dropped the hem of my dress back down.

“Come on..we’ve been missed. I hope you enjoyed looking,” I said, sweetly.

I peeped around the corner of the house. All was clear, so I stepped out and made my way back. Sir Richard seemed nervous.

“Come on..just pretend we’ve been walking round the garden,” I said in a whisper. He caught me up.

“Katie..we need to talk..I don’t think you understand,” he replied, his voice trembling slightly.

“Lets just forget it, shall we,” I replied, “before your wife gets involved. She knows something is going on, you know.”

We returned to the dining room via the French windows. People were just taking their seats around the table.

“Where have you been Richard?” Lady Helens formidable voice called out from the other end of the dining table. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Her piercing gaze fell on me, suspicion in her eyes. She was right too. I wondered what she would say if she knew I had just been fingering my private parts in front of her husband.

“Oh...just a stroll..before dinner..Katie kindly showed me...around the gardens,” he stammered. I gave Lady Helen a beaming smile.

“The scent is stronger this time of the day,” I added, helpfully. But I wasn’t referring the flowers in the garden. With my knickers down, my cum soaked puss had been giving off a strong aroma, not just from Sir Richards semen, but also my own dripping pussy. My juices were now mingling with his seed between my legs as I stood there, innocently smiling at his wife.

“Oh, that’s nice of you darling,” my mother chimed in, “ the gardens really are at their best at the moment, aren’t they, darling,” she said to my father.

“Oh, yes...marvellous just now...the roses are at their best this time of year.” he replied, as Jenny arrived to put a covered plate of food on the table.

“There’s more to come,” she said brightly, and disappeared out again.

I was quite relieved that my parents had unknowingly diverted the attention of Lady Helen away from me, and I quickly found a place at the table and sat down beside Peter West. Sir Richard sat down diagonally across the table from me, his face slightly red, facing his wife.

Peter offered me some wine, which I thankfully accepted, and we got into conversation. Jenny flitted in and out, and soon the long table was heaving with large serving plates set down the centre, containing a variety of vegetables, and a large joint of roast beef, carved and ready to serve.

We had begun with a starter of fresh crab cakes, which apparently had been caught only that morning and bought from the harbour at Mevagissey, just along the coast from us.

“There we are everyone..help yourselves,” Jenny announced, proudly.

There was a buzz of approval, and plates began to be passed around as people helped themselves to the wonderful food.

As the meal went on, I noticed Sir Richard looking across at me every now and then, trying not to make it obvious to his wife. He had a rather odd look on his face, and I wondered how he must be feeling, knowing that his hosts horny, 18 year old, blonde daughter was sitting across the table from him, with his cum all over and inside her wet, shaved pussy.

He did seem to be rather agitated though, and I wondered if he was now regretting his rather risky behaviour. Perhaps, despite my words of reassurance, he was still afraid I would tell someone about what he had done.

The meal progressed, and as it did so, I could feel my pussy tingling, just the thought of his naughty behaviour enough to have my juices seeping out into my knickers. I tried to concentrate on the conversations going on around me, but all the time the dampness of my knickers, and the memory of Sir Richards face as he saw my naked pussy exposed was causing me become rather aroused.

Dessert was served. Homemade ice cream, strawberries and flakes of plain chocolate..so nice!

As I ate, I looked over at Sir Richard. Our eyes met, and I smiled. He quickly glanced at his wife, who seemed to be deep in conversation with Anthony Atherley, who was sat the other side of her, then looked back at me, a frown on his face. He mouthed something across the table, but I couldn’t make out what he meant, and gave a slight shake of my head.

He said it again. “I need to talk to you.” his lips indicated. I smiled back innocently and shrugged, pretending I didn’t understand.

He stared at me, a look of almost desperation on his face. Then, a glance from Lady Helen across the table at him diverted his gaze. She then looked down the table at me, and I could almost feel the daggers flying towards me from her steely eyed gaze.

I looked away, quite shocked. Perhaps I had gone too far. I didn’t want to get into a tangle with Lady Helen.

As dinner came to an end, and the guests began to migrate to the drawing room, I decided I should make an inconspicuous retreat. I said a quiet good night to my father, and slipped upstairs, keen not to become involved in conversation with Sir Richard again.

Back upstairs in my bedroom, I undressed. What a day it had been. Within that past 24 hours, I had had the pleasure of seeing Sir Richards erect penis, tasted his semen, and exposed my shaved, cum soaked pussy to him.

I pulled down the soggy knickers and stepped out of them, the aroma of my hot puss filling the air. The combination of both his semen and my fluids had left them drenched, and my private parts glistening.

I went into my en-suite and had another shower, and for the third time that day I masturbated.

Before I went to bed, I put my soiled knickers into the basin with some hot water and soap. I couldn’t leave them for the laundry in the condition they were in – Jenny would surely notice and have questions to ask.

I went to sleep, wondering how I was going to deal with the Ormsby – Gores over the next two days. With Lady Helen now very suspicious of my behaviour, things could become a bit tricky now.
*

I woke early that Sunday morning, and dressed ready for church. It was a usual routine for me to accompany my parents to church on Sunday mornings, and it was the same when we were staying at Brackenwood. We would join the congregation at St Mawes Church, where we had made many friends over the years since my parents purchased Brackenwood.

I arrived downstairs in the dining room, to find my father and the Raddners already at the table. Jenny came in as I was helping myself to cereal at the serving table, carrying two jugs of fruit juice.

“Morning Katie...up early today then,” she teased. I poked her fondly in the ribs.

“Yes..of course. You know I hardly ever lie in, Jenny,” I replied. “Anyway, its church today.” I poured milk over my cereal.

“Yes. And there’s less of you today,” she said. I looked at her, blankly.

“Oh..you won’t have heard the news then,” she continued, a look of pleasure on her face. She always liked being the first to tell you of any news, good or bad. “Well, apparently, Lady Helens mother was taken ill, and they left early this morning. About 7 o’clock. I met them in the hall taking their bags out to their car. All very sudden.”

I stared at her, completely taken aback. Suddenly the game had changed.

“So they’ve gone...altogether?” I asked, rather stupidly.

“Well..yes..apparently she’s very ill. They had a phone call early on this morning. I don’t think they plan to come back down here from Kent,” she replied, putting the jugs on the serving table.

I sat down at the table, and greeted people good morning. My mother arrived followed quickly by the Harrisons and Peter West. My mother was telling them the news of the Ormsby – Gores.

I listened to the conversation. Obviously there was much surprise, and sympathy expressed around the table for Lady Helen. Apparently my mother had been awoken by Jenny, and had seen them off when they left.

“ Yes, quite a shock,” she was saying, “I don’t think it was expected. In fact Richard seemed even more upset than Helen.”

Something about it all seemed a bit odd to me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Nevertheless, I was quite relieved that I was no longer faced with the challenge of having to deal with them for the rest of the weekend. Things were becoming rather out of hand, so perhaps it was for the best.

We left for church after breakfast. Accompanying us were the Raddners, leaving the remaining guests to amuse themselves for the morning. It was as we drove from Brackenwood down the lanes to St Mawes, that the events of the morning came back to me, and the nagging feeling that something didn’t seem right. I gazed out of the car window, thinking about what Jenny had said, and the comments my mother had made to the guests over breakfast.

And then , suddenly, it dawned on me. Mobile phones!!

“I didn’t hear the phone ring this morning Mother...what time did Lady Helen get the message about her mother being ill?” I asked, casually.

“Oh..I’m not sure darling,” my mother replied, “but you wouldn’t have heard it...they rang her mobile phone, not our house phone.”

I knew then that the whole story was a lie. There was no way that Lady Helen could have taken a call about her mother on her mobile phone. Brackenwood was a complete dead zone for mobile phone signals, being situated right on the end of the headland, looking out to sea, and having such thick walls. The only place on the property where I had ever been able to get a mobile signal was standing right in the middle of the lawn at the rear of the house..and even then it was a weak signal. Certainly there was no chance of Lady Helen ever receiving a call within the house.

“Oh I see,” I replied.

So why?

Well...perhaps Lady Helen had decided that enough was enough. Certainly the look on her face when she saw Sir Richard and I walk through the French doors into the dining room was enough to leave anyone in no doubt that she wasn’t happy.

As stared silently out of the car window, I pictured the scene; a heated argument in their bedroom, Sir Richard attempting in vain to explain away his actions over the past few hours. Lady Helen demanding to know what was going on between him and their host’s 18 year old daughter, and finally telling him, “That’s it, we are not staying here any longer...we going home first thing in the morning!”

Maybe I had it all wrong – perhaps her mother was seriously ill. But the fact that there was absolutely no phone signal made her story highly improbable, in my view.

We got back, just before lunch, and I went upstairs to my room to change into something more relaxed. Whilst I like to dress smartly for church, I prefer to wear more leisurely clothes at home.

I went into my room, and closed the door behind me.

It was then that my little world fell apart, and panic took hold of me, my knees going weak and my heart thudding hard in my chest.

There, on my dressing table, lay a pair of my white lace knickers, screwed into a ball. Beside them, splashed over the dark oak surface of the table, were four, long white, creamy lines of semen and a pool of cum. And, as I gazed in disbelief, I realised that on the dressing table mirror facing me, a further load of cum was running down the glass and dripping onto the table underneath.


Continued in Mystery at Brackenwood - Part 2