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"It shows how low I will go" she smiled. She now asked me to turn around and sit low on the settee. As I moved into position, she did not move at all, deciding to remain on the floor. I sat back and she was on the floor in between my legs. She lifted my legs up, and holding onto the backs of my thighs, she once again exposed my arse. Her mouth went to work straight away. This time it was long, full licks of my arsehole that she took, and this time I could see her. Looking down at her at work was amazing. Her heavily made up face: Too much eye shadow and blusher, and again, too much red lipstick and gloss was such a lovely sight. After a few minutes she started to insert her tongue in me again. She asked if I liked things in my arse, and I said I wasn't sure, but her tongue in there was nice."You taste lovely" she said "some guys taste of soap, but you have a lovely musky taste to your arse". I wasn't quite sure what she meant by that, as I had showered before I left, but perhaps. You should gointo town and kick up your heels." The hired hand readily agreed and wentinto town on Saturday night.He returned around 2:30 am and, upon entering the room, he found therancher's widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting forhim.She quietly called him over to her. He stood unsteadily before her, lookingjust a tad disheveled from his night of square dancing and revelry.Presenting a most commanding figure, she rose to face him. "Unbutton myblouse and take it off," she said with the slightest slur in her voice. Hertone left no room for discussion. Trembling, he did as she directed."Careful! Don't snag the lace ruffles!" she sternly cautioned."Now take off my boots." He did as she asked, ever so slowly, gazing longingly at the five-inchstiletto heels. He came oh-so close to actually kissing her boots beforesetting them gently next to her feet."Now take off my skirt, my petticoats, my slip, and my petti-panties." Onceagain, as if in a trance, he did her.
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‘Now, Buxton, who do we have here?’ Buxton introduced the people around the table. There were two maids, Annie and Elisa, across the table and both had arrived since Charles left. Mother’s lady, McHale, who had been with the family as long as Mrs. Williams, was seated next to them. Kathleen was seated at the foot of the table. There were two men seated on the same side as Charles. One was Montgomery. He was father’s valet and had been with him since the Boer War. The other was new, like the girls. His name was McTavish, a Scot, about Charles’ brother’s age. Charles had seen him upstairs. Charles shook hands in greeting each one, new and old. There was something about him that the staff always liked. There was no airs about him. He made them feel comfortable in his presence. As Charles reached for McTavish’s hand, the Scot seemed hesitant. It was then Charles realized that he missing two fingers on it. ‘I see,’ Charles said withdrawing his hand. ‘Sorry.’ ‘No need, sir. It’s me Blighty.

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