Melanies Weg zur devoten Sklavenhure
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Journey Into Melanie’s Reality Ch. 02 free porn video
Author’s note: If you haven’t read the first chapter of this, it will make more sense if you do so.
Thanks to all of you for your appreciative comments on chapter one. I hope you enjoy this one too.
And very special thanks to my editor and muse.
*****
She was woken earlier than she wished by her three children climbing on the bed, snuggling into her:
– Is he here Mummy, where is he?
It was almost as though they’d expected him to be in her bed. The thought made her shiver momentarily. She hoped that day would come. They were giggling and bubbling in their excitement, and tired as she was, she couldn’t help but join them in it:
– Darlings, the poor man was in the air and mostly sleepless for nearly 24 hours. Remember how I was when I got back from Europe? I was dead with fatigue and jetlag for a couple of days afterwards. I know how excited you are to meet him, but give him a bit of rest. Now, which of you is going to be kind enough to make me some tea? Mummy had a long hard day driving…
The three of them were out of the door, squealing with joy, before she finished the sentence. They always needed something to occupy them, and she was adept at devising things to keep them busy. God she loved them, though they could be a handful. There had been moments when she nearly regretted having three children in as many years. Nearly. They were more biddable now they were older.
She lay for a few minutes thinking about them. The mites missed their Dad greatly, had been traumatised by his premature death in hospital three months previously. There were nights when all three of them ended up in her bed after nightmares, weeping in their loss, and irrationally fearful that their Mummy might follow him.
Having their Gran stay for a bit had lifted them, as she hoped Sandy’s visit would too. She was desperate for them to like him, and for him to like them. She was optimistic on both counts, had met his grown children, knew that they were beautiful human beings, that the joy they shared spoke of happy childhoods and loving parents.
The door opened to a jostle of children:
– I made the tea Mummy…
– I made the toast…
– And I spread the marmalade…
God how she loved them. Glanced at the clock as she sat up to receive the breakfast tray. Nearly eight. There were two mugs on the tray. She hesitated, then said:
– Umm… maybe it’s time for Sandy to have his first tea too. He’s in my office. Can someone manage to take this mug to him without spilling the tea? And be gentle waking him, he’ll be really tired…
They were out of the door, yelping in glee. Melanie rose, noticing the faint residue of her own sexscent. Slipped on her dressing gown, took her tea and toast, and followed them through the house to the stairs.
*****
Small hands shaking his shoulder stirred him from sleep, young voices urging him to wake. He turned onto his back to see three very excited children, one proffering a steaming mug. He took the tea gratefully, set it on the shelf beside the bed:
– Well, thank you for a lovely start to my morning. Now… who’s who here? Melanie’s told me all about you of course, and your photos are on my mantelpiece…
– I’m William. I’m the oldest. Nearly a teenager…
The lanky boy smiled engagingly. Sandy extended his right hand. The lad shook it solemnly.
– Lovely to meet you William. Mum tells me you’re an authority on just about everything?
– Oh, trust Mum. I’m a bit young yet to be an authority on everything. Um, just some things.
The lad burst into a fit of giggles. His sisters had been standing back, giving their brother space. Now the smaller launched herself onto the bed, hugging Sandy round his neck:
– Mummy’s told us all about you Sandy. I’m Frances. I don’t like to be called Frankie, though these people — her head twisted to look disdainfully at her siblings — sometimes call me that. Mummy says you have a kilt? I hope you brought it…
He kissed her freckled brow as she squirmed on him:
– Frances you are then. Your birthday’s soon I think? Your tenth. A very important birthday! Yes lass, I brought my kilt. Your Mummy instructed me to wear it on your birthday. And this one must be Maria…
The third child was reserved, maybe a bit cool. He saw her mother in her face, not just the physical features, but the subtle self-confidence. The girl moved forward, bent to kiss his cheek graciously:
– Yup, I’m Maria. I’m the only one round here who knows how to make tea properly…
– You are not, madame!
Melanie had been standing at the door, smiling as the children introduced themselves to her lover. Maria turned to her:
– Sorry Mum. I didn’t know you were there. I meant that I’m the only one of us who knows how to make tea properly. Cos Dad taught me…
– Good morning Melanie. I think I’ve met everyone in your family now. Maybe you should put your tea and toast down somewhere?
Maria intervened:
– Not quite everyone Sandy. Just wait, you must meet Bartok…
Melanie kissed her briefly before her elder daughter ran down the stairs, two at a time. Entered the room properly, put her arms round the other two, bent and kissed Sandy’s brow. She wanted her children to know she cared for this man. She had to be open with them, to an extent at least:
– Good morning sleepyhead. Sorry if my billylids woke you earlier than you wanted, but it’s a lovely day. Far too good to waste in bed. And they were desperate to see you. No idea why, really…
Frances giggled as Melanie kissed him again, lightly. His mouth this time.
Then a rather fat black cat jumped onto the bed. Sandy’s hand moved to tickle it behind the ears. The cat stretched its neck, began purring, then dribbling. Clearly a tom:
– Good morning Bartok. You’re almost as expressive as your namesake…
Maria was standing beside the others, pride on her face:
– Yes, and he’s my cat. Isn’t he lovely?
Her mother’s voice cut in, a little sharply:
– Maria! We got him for your birthday, true. But he’s not your cat! Nobody can own a cat, he’s his own… animal. Sorry, nearly said person there…
– Mummy, he is a person. Just a cattish one!
Laughter filled the room. Sandy chuckled as he sipped tea:
– Whatever he is, Bartok’s lovely. Now folks, I’m fully woken up. You’re the best waker-uppers I’ve had since my bairns were wee. But maybe you could leave now and let me get dressed? Please? You need to show me round your home, and you’re not doing that when I’m naked…
– Yes, clear out now my sweet children, go and make your beds.
Excited discussion sounded over the patter of feet on the stairs. Melanie closed and locked the door, pulled the cover from him. His erection stood proud. She knelt by the bed:
– God I need this. Wanted him last night. Have to make it quick though…
Her mouth closed around him.
– Oh fuck darling, I was dreaming about you when the littlies woke me. I — he winced as pleasure soared through him — I won’t last long. Jesus, love your mouth… but isn’t this hanky-panky?
– You aren’t afraid of Mum, are you?
– No, I…
Her face sank on him till he filled her throat. Then she lifted her head:
– Good. Need you. Now.
She looked in his eyes, opened her dressing gown, cast it on the floor. She was crouching by the bed, and her hand moved to her wet cunt as her mouth went down on him again. She felt his cock jerk at the sight of her lewd nakedness. Jesus she wanted him, and this morning it would be her mouth. She worked and teased, wanking herself as she pleasured him, felt his hips rise to her face, pants and groans issuing from him as he writhed under her ministrations. Felt his cock swelling in her liquid throat. Used every muscle she knew to pleasure her m
an. Stroked his balls, felt them tighten under her fingertips. Rubbed her clit harder, plunged two fingers in her needy cunt. Felt her own explosion building as her face contorted on his sex. Jesus, now…
– Ohhhhhhh darling. Jesusgod…
The spunk squirted down her throat. She convulsed as the orgasm hit her, and her teeth sank gently into the flesh between them. He shuddered and thrust into her again, spunking harder.
When it was finished she crawled onto the bed and nuzzled him. Eventually she managed to croak:
– Good morning darling. We need to start the day. Welcome to Canberra.
*****
By the time he’d showered and come down to the dining area, everyone bar Phil was sitting at the table. She was over the cooker. He moved to help her, but was shooed away:
– You’ll get your turn at making breakfast, don’t worry. Feeling better for your rest? I don’t suppose the little lovelies allowed you to sleep in?
– Hardly. No idea who put them up to it. Here, at least I can take the dishes to the table. And — lifting the teapot — there’s not much in this. I need a lot of tea in the morning. Maria…?
It wasn’t hard for him to feel settled in this warm family, as they tucked into their breakfast together. He’d have felt comfortable if Melanie was just a friend, and not his lover. They’d have to be careful of course, and George was omnipresent, not just in the lowered kitchen surfaces. Sandy knew that he was just under the skin in the children.
When they’d eaten, Phil made to rise. Sandy’s hand moved to her wiry arm:
– In my family there’s a rule. The person who cooks isn’t allowed to clear the table or wash dishes. Please don’t argue with me Phil. At least, not on this one?
– Hmmm… — her face was a study in reluctant compliance — I suppose you need to have your way in something, being a man.
But her eyes were alive as she spoke.
After he placed the last of the dishes on the draining board, a hand slipped into his. Maria’s, a little to his surprise:
– Now Sandy, you need to see our home.
An hour later he was back at the table. Melanie and Phil hadn’t moved during his tour, during which he’d learned as much about the children as he did about the geography of their home. George was everywhere, in the wet-floor shower, the wide doors, the kitchen surfaces lowered for access from a wheelchair. The bairns had scattered in the garden.
– I think you need a coffee dear?
His eyes flicked briefly to Phil at Melanie’s endearment. The older woman’s smile was untroubled.
– Yes… Melanie, that would be lovely.
– So, not-so-stranger, tell me of your plans whilst you’re here? Melanie says you have to go to Sydney for the launch of a novel. I’m impressed: I don’t think I’ve ever met a novelist. Well, not a published one…
– Yes. Believe me, I’m more surprised at being published than anyone. Wait a sec, I’ll be right back.
He had a hardback and a fountain-pen in his hand when he returned, and Melanie was fussing over coffee-making:
– Here Phil — carefully writing in the fly-leaf — Melanie has the Scots edition. You’re the first person to have the Aussie one. I want to have a look at Sydney when I’m there of course, maybe spend a few days exploring. But mostly I want to stay with you all, learn about your city and the countryside around. For as long as you can put up with me, that is…
– Sandy, I know what’s going on. Know that my daughter and you are more than friends. — Her hand touched his arm when he started to protest — Please allow me to know my daughter, Sandy. And I can feel your love for her. She’s had a hard few years, harder than anyone appreciates. George, bless his soul, had no idea how difficult it was for her. She needs a break Sandy, and a decent man will do her good. You seem decent enough to me — so far. You have my blessing. I want you to know that. But take care with the children.
– Phil, I don’t know what to say… cept of course I’ll take care with the children…
– Better to say nothing, then.
Her fingers squeezed his arm gently. Hundreds of words gently. There were tears in his eyes as Melanie laid the tray of coffee things on the table. She’d caught enough of the conversation and hung back so she didn’t intrude. She stood behind Sandy, placed her hands on his shoulders, bent over and kissed her mother:
– Thank you Mum. We’ll be very careful with the children, I promise. I’d prefer them to like… my man.
*****
The next two days were spent around the house. And the garden. The children delighted in helping Sandy to identify birds, lizards, frogs, and once a snake that William said was dangerous. They showed off dizzying tree-climbing skills, and Maria could identify every butterfly. On the second afternoon Phil diplomatically took the children to the library. Sandy and Melanie were fucking hard in the garden, his cock deep in her as she propped her hands against a wall, when they heard the crunch of tyres on gravel and separated just in time, his belt and flies fastened, her dress smoothed down, before the children besieged them.
On the third day, at breakfast, Sandy announced:
– Right, I’ve had enough of being pampered. I’m making dinner tonight. So you guys — nodding at the children — need to help me. I don’t know anything about shopping here.
It was the first time he’d driven in Australia, and the first time he’d been completely on his own with the children. They laughed mercilessly when he kept flicking on the wipers instead of the indicators, but other than learning a new car, the driving was fine. The road rules and courtesies were very similar to those at home.
The supermarket was another matter. Melanie had warned him that taking the children shopping was like throwing ball-bearings and watching them scatter. Accurate, except that you can sometimes see the ball-bearings. Between aisles in the shop, he could barely even hear them, other than the occasional squeal from Frances.
Eventually he managed to round them up. Fuck, three were so much harder than two! He gave them a lecture about how he needed help, so they had to stay with him. They did. For about three minutes.
Eventually the shopping was in the car, and he took them to a cafe for lunch. Melanie had a deadline on an article, so she needed space. They had a long walk through the pedestrianised city centre, and down to the north shore of Lake Burley Griffin. He’d brought stale bread against that eventuality, and watched as the three fed black swans and other wildfowl. He’d forgotten to bring suncream though: not something he needed much at home. His skin was burning on the way back. The children had applied cream before they left the house. Ach, he’d learn Australian ways in time.
His dinner was simple: grilled salmon steaks, new potatoes and green veg from the garden, a couple of bottles of what he’d been assured was decent local Chardonnay. Bramble crumble and fresh cream from what the children called blackberries in the garden. After dinner the kids scattered around the house.
– Not bad, young man. I’m glad you can manage things in the kitchen.
He knew by now that this was praise indeed from Phil:
– Thank you. I’ll make dinner at least every third day from now on please? I want to pull my weight in this house.
Melanie was fascinated by the unfolding interplay between her mother and her man. She was learning new things about them both, but especially about Sandy. She felt very relaxed, knowing her occasionally ascerbic mother liked her partner. And he was getting on like a house on fire with the children. Time for another test, then:
– Sandy, I haven’t quite finished my article, and it’s due in tomorrow first thing. Would you be an angel please, and put the children to bed? Maybe you could read to them?
Phil glanced archly at her daughter and excused herself, saying the wine h
ad made her drowsy. Sandy drew Melanie to her feet and kissed her:
– Of course darling. My pleasure. Go and finish your work.
*****
He got the bairns to bed, eventually. It had been a long time since he’d spent almost an entire day with sole responsibility for young children, and he was exhausted. He sank in a chair and tried to read for a bit, Tim Winton. He was seeking to better understand this huge country through its recent literature. But he couldn’t focus. Glanced at his watch. Surely she must have finished the article by now? He checked on the children before climbing the stairs.
Melanie was still at the computer when he entered the room. She turned at the sound of his entry. He noticed her nipples hard through the flimsy of her sleepwear.
– I’m just finishing sweet. Thank you for taking care of the children today. It was wonderful having a quiet house, not having to worry about how they were. Are they asleep now?
– Aye, just checked, out like lights. They didn’t let me off with just one story though…
– Dill! If you give them an inch they’ll take a mile. Don’t you remember from when yours were young?
– Um, vaguely. But these aren’t mine darling. I want them to like me, so yes, maybe I’m being a bit indulgent.
– You’re doing fine so far love: I know they like you. But would you give me another few minutes to finish this piece, then we can chat? Um, maybe you could look it over before I send it. Is there any wine left?
– I’d love to read the article. And yes, there’s maybe half a bottle left.
– Well give me peace to do my final edit. And fetch the wine!
He kissed the top of her head and went downstairs. Checked on the children again and read another couple of pages of his novel. He didn’t like anyone hanging over his shoulder, even being in the same room, when he was working, and he knew Melanie was the same. He rose when he heard his name called softly. She was at the door when he climbed the stairs:
– All done darling. Have a read at what’s on the screen. I’ll pour the wine.
He sat at the computer and absently reached for the glass when she set it on the desk. She felt very comfortable having him in her home: she’d worried about that, about how they’d fit together on her territory. How her mother and children would take to him, with George’s ghost everywhere. She had no remaining worries. Warmth and care filled her home. It hadn’t even crossed her mind to be concerned when Sandy took the littlies off for the day: she knew she could trust him to look after them. God, the world was good sometimes…
– Darling. I hadn’t realised… what your piece was about. Um, well, I never asked you, I suppose. It’s heartrendingly beautiful. Thank you for allowing me into you. We’ve never really talked about how you felt about George. And his death. You just gave me an outline of what happened. It was something I never had confidence to probe into.
She kissed his bald patch, stroked his shoulders:
– Well, I have a weekly column to write. I’d something else in mind for this week, but at some stage I had to get this stuff into words. And once you were here, I finally had the strength to face it.
– You must tell me more, when you feel you can sweet. He was the centre of your life for what, about fifteen years?
– Yes darling, our fifteenth anniversary is next month. I want to tell you now Sandy. Don’t want any secrets between us. But first, would you give it a quick edit please? Sometimes friends edit for me, and of course the subbie at the paper savages my pieces. But I couldn’t show this to my friends.
– OK love, give me ten minutes. Whilst I’m doing that, you might like to see a pressie I brought for you.
– Darling, you’ve already given me several presents…
– Yes I know, but your family couldn’t see this one when all my wee gifts were opened at the dining table. — he got up and rummaged in a drawer — Here darling, with all my love.
She carefully removed giftwrap from the box. He watched her eyes widen as she opened it, then fix on him:
– Oh darling! — she threw her arms round him — How did you know?
– Well, you did tell me at one point that you sometimes wished you had a cock. We had an interesting exchange about that. Now, let me do my work for you so you can send this piece to the paper.
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