Chapter 1: Coming Home
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Historical, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, BBW, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: Coming Home - A story of lust and passion in the 1800's. Based in Cornwall, England.
The year was 1891, my name was John Trelawney, and I was only 18 years of age, but already my life had been full of drama. My mother had died in childbirth, as had my twin brother. My father had taken an instant dislike to me; it was as if he blamed me for my mother's death. He tolerated me until I was 10 years old and then sent me off to sea. I had spent eight years in the employment of Captain J Leonard.
I had spent a couple of years as a cabin boy learning the ropes before I eventually climbed to the heady heights of Petty Officer. We sailed mainly around the Mediterranean Sea, trading in anything that would make the grizzled old captain a few gold sovereigns.
I had left my father's estate as a sallow, scrawny youth but I was now returning as a man. I was as brown as a berry, fit as a fiddle and as strong as an ox. Eight years of fighting the sea, the weather, and the rogues of the sea whilst trading around various ports in the Mediterranean Sea had seen me change from a boy to a man. I had been away from home for too long, and now the time was right for me to return.
My ship had docked at Plymouth and I was on my way back to the family estate. My father was Squire Alfred John Trelawney who was Lord and Master of a 750-acre estate near Charlestown in Cornwall. I had packed my sparse belongings into a small sea chest, and had then managed to beg a lift on a small coastal trader heading toward Mevvagissy, a small fishing port near to my father's estate. I figure that having lost me to the sea for so long my father's hatred may have been tempered slightly.
We sailed into the harbour in Mevvagissy at about midday. Once we had docked, I walked the few miles around the headland to the gates of my father's estate. The gates were locked shut, so I climbed over the small drystone wall and headed up along the lane. As I walked up along the front lawn, I saw the front doors of the big house open, and a figure dressed in black stood on the front step. It was Arthur Jacobs, who was my father's estate manager. I called out to him.
"Can I help you?" he called back.
"I am here to meet with the squire," I responded.
"I am not sure who you are, boy, but you are not welcome here," Jacobs shouted, his voice far from friendly. I tried to reply but he interrupted me.
"If I were you, lad, I would get off the estate while you can still walk off it," he replied angrily and with that, he nodded to the corner of the building.
The two estate workers were approaching with a menacing look in their eyes and thick wooden staves in their hands. They were upon me before I had time to say anything. The first of the men swung hard and high, the wood whistling over my head as I ducked. Almost at the same time, my fist drove into his stomach, smashing the wind from him and, as he doubled over, my knee smashed into his face. A crunch and the curse issued from his mouth told me his nose was broken. He dropped to his knees and I kicked out at him, catching him on the chin. His head snapped backward and he was out like a light.
His accomplice was no more of a threat. His first blow caught me full on the shoulder, and I stumbled slightly as I lost my balance for a second. As he shaped to strike again, I kicked out, my booted foot catching him high on the inner thigh, he howled with pain and dropped his guard. I was about to smash my fist into his podgy face, when a voice called out.
"Stop, Master John, stop, Sir. I beg of you," it was a woman's voice.
I dropped my fists and turned toward the voice, a voice that I recognised from my childhood. It was a voice full of kindness and then suddenly there was a flash of light and every thing went black before I hit the floor.
My eyes started to clear and I was looking up at a white ceiling. The back of my head throbbed and, when I reached around and rubbed at it, I felt a large lump. I looked around the spartan room. It was dark but I could see I was on a bed, and in the corner of the room there was a table with a water jug and bowl. My mouth felt like it was filled with dry sand. I tried to stand up to get a drink of water but my legs were wobbly and, as I slipped off the edge of the bed, my knees buckled beneath me, and the room went dark again.
The sun streaming through the window must have awoken me. I looked around and saw the owner of the voice sitting on a chair at the foot of the bed. It was Mrs Jacobs; she was the owner of the voice I had recognised. Mrs Jacobs was my father's housekeeper and wife of his estate manager. She had been just like a mother to me in my younger years. She smiled at me and offered me a cup of water that I drained with gusto. Her eyes were full of tears as she refilled the cup from the water jug.
"Please don't cry for me, Mrs Jacobs," I groaned, "twas a lucky blow that felled me, but I am sure I will be as right as rain in a few days."
This comment brought forth floods of tears and Mrs Jacobs sobbed uncontrollably. I tried my best to console her but she was distraught. Her sobs must have been very loud as Jacobs soon appeared at the door. He took his wife by the arm, and led her out of room and returned within a few moments.
"Are you feeling okay, Sir," Jacobs enquired.
"A bit sore, Arthur, but I should be okay in day or two," I replied. "Why the heavy handed approach to visitors, Arthur?"
"I am sorry, Sir; the estate has been the target of several attacks by vagabonds in recent months, so the lads are on guard 24 hours a day just in case of trouble," Jacobs explained. "And we did not recognise you; you are so grow up, Master John."
"Its okay, Jacobs, it's been a long time and I am sure there was no malice intended," I replied, "I hope the two estate workers are okay."
"A little embarrassed and a bit of wounded pride but on the whole they will be fine. " He smiled. His hand extended and we shook like old friends. Jacobs had been like a big brother to me in my youth, we had roamed the estate together before my departure.
He apologised for not recognising me and I accepted with grace.
"So, Arthur, where is my father? I should like to see him." My question seemed to cast a dark shadow over Jacobs' face.
"Let's go into the study, Master John. I think we need to talk." The tone of Jacobs' voice seemed a little sad.
I stood up gingerly, with tottering steps, and Jacobs helping me. I managed to get into the book lined study. The next few hours changed my life forever. Jacobs filled me in on the recent history of the estate, of my father's fall to his death from his favourite horse while out hunting the previous year. He told me of his attempts to trace me after my father's death. He filled me in on all that had happened during the eight years I had been at sea. I walked into the study as Master John and walked out a few hours later as Squire John Trelawney, Lord, and Master of the Trelawney estate.
That night I slept on and off, tossing and turning, and the night seemed to fly past. The morning was bright and sunny so I slipped into my trousers and shirt, and then walked barefoot to the front steps. I looked out over the estate - looked out over my estate. It was my land, as far as the eye could see, the land, and everything on it belonged to me. In a way, my heart was full of sadness and regret at the loss of my father and, at the same time, I was filled with excitement for my future as Squire of the Trelawney manor.
I turned to walk back into the house. Mrs Jacobs was in the hallway. We exchanged smiles.
"Good morning, Mrs Jacobs," I said cheerfully.
"Good morning, Sir, and what a wonderful morning it is," she replied. "So Master John... Sorry, Squire Trelawney, what's it to be first? Your breakfast or your bath."
I opted for the breakfast before the bath, as I was ravenous. Mrs Jacobs ushered me into the large oak panelled dining room. I sat at the end of the highly polished oak dining table. Mrs Jacobs bustled away to the kitchen, and within moments, I was aware of a maid being in the room. She laid out the table in front of me.
At first, her appearance did not catch my eye, but when she poured me out a large mug of milk, I took in the view. She was a rosy-cheeked country wench, blond and well built. I put her age at twenty-one or perhaps a tad younger. As she served my porridge and then my bread and jam, I admired her more and more. Her black and white maid's uniform did little to hide her figure; her large bum and big bosom immediately drew my attention.
I had just finished my breakfast when Mrs Jacobs came back into the dining room.
"Squire, Sir, would it be okay if I left you in Mary's capable hands?" she asked. "I promised the vicar I'd help him to clean out the church today."
"Of course it's okay, Mrs Jacobs." I nodded my approval.
"Well, then, Squire, your bath is ready and there is more water heating on the stove. When you need it, just give young Mary a call and she will top it up for you." With a curtsy and a smile, Mrs Jacobs was gone.
It was only when Mrs Jacobs had gone that I realised I was unsure where the bathroom actually was. It had been a long time since I had lived in the house. I asked Mary to show me the way, her swaying hips and big bouncy bum made me excited as she led me up the stairs to the bathroom and I decided that I would have her before the week was out. Once in the bathroom, Mary pointed out where the towels were kept and she showed me the pull cord for the bell that would attract her attention, if I needed anything.
Mary closed the door behind herself as she left and I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the warm water. Lying back, I wallowed in the soft water. I had been around and had sampled one or two women in the foreign ports the ship had visited, but I would not say I was an experienced lover. I pondered these thoughts and debated on whether Mary would be receptive to my charms. She certainly was built for comfort and fun. I wondered if she was experienced in the art of lovemaking.
I started to think back to the few girls I had bedded on my travels, including a lovely big French girl that had been the best lover I had ever had. She did things with her lips and tongue that would make your eyes water. The effect it had on my body was inevitable, and I decided that as I was alone I would give myself a bit of a helping hand so to speak. I had not had more then perhaps three or four strokes when I heard the door swing open, and Mary walked into the room.
She smiled at me knowingly before asking if I would like more hot water, which she poured in at the foot of the bath. Then to my surprise, she asked if I needed any help, perhaps my back needed scrubbing. I was more than a little taken a back with her offer but still it was a very nice offer. I accepted without hesitation. She may have been my maid but I did not want to offend her, after all. Mary grabbed the bar of soap and a washcloth. I was soon leaning forward as the comely wench scrubbed, then rinsed my back, shoulders, and neck, her hands stroked softly over my skin.
"You have lovely dark skin, Master," she whispered.
"Thank you, Mary," I replied.
I guess that many years on board a ship in warmer climates had left me darker than most of my countrymen. Mary finished my back with a flourish and I leaned back in the water. Then with out invitation, Mary applied the soapy washcloth to my chest, stroking and caressing. Should I stop her, I wondered to myself, remembering that she was now one of my staff. Her hands caressed the bar of soap and she was away again, soaping my arms and shoulders, soaping and rinsing, soaping and rinsing.
Mary's hands were as soft as silk as she washed me down, and the effect of those lovely delicate hands on my skin soon had my dick as hard as rock, and it was not easy to hide my ardour as Mary scrubbed away at the skin on my torso. Her attentions soon went back to my chest; her fingers traced patterns around my nipples causing them to harden involuntarily. Mary washed and then rewashed my chest, stroking her hands through the thick hair that grew there and stroking the palms of her hands over the nubs of my nipples.
Mary asked if I would stand up, as it would make washing my legs easier. I knew immediately I was at a point of no return. I had a big decision to make. Was she eager to see my cock and perhaps sample it or was she so naive and unaware of the effect she was having on my body?
I stood up, the bath water dripping from me. I was facing Mary and my cock was hard and proud. It stood out from my body like a bow chaser. My eyes closed waiting for a scream, waiting for Mary to run from the room. She did neither; she may have gasped a little. She grabbed the bar of soap started to soap up my lower stomach. The room was silent apart from the heaviness of my breathing and the splashing of the water as Mary soaped and rinsed my stomach.
It was my turn to gasp as I felt Mary take the tip of my rock hard rod between her fingertips and pulled it away from my body. She held the tip of my cock with her left hand and grabbed the bar of soap in her right; I felt her soapy hand running up and down the length of my throbbing cock. She was caressing my taut skin, stroking my penis slowly, softly but firmly. Mary's fist wrapped around my knob and stroked back and forth, back and forth. My breathing got deeper as her soft warm hand wanked me off very slowly. Mary's hand went back and forth over the slippery, soapy skin of my erect cock; it was gripping me, squeezing me, and driving me wild. Every now and then one of her hands cupped my ball sack, fondling and stroking my love eggs.
I was about to explode when Mary took the washing cup she was using to rinse me and slewed cold water over the length of my erection, rinsing away the soapy suds. She then leant forward and placed a kiss on the head of my cock before wrapping a hand around its girth, and then she gently pulled back my foreskin. I must have jumped a little.
"I am sorry, Master John. Did I hurt you?" her whisper almost inaudible, filled with lust.
"No, Mary, carry on, please. This is most enjoyable," I replied, almost unable to contain my excitement.
"Master John, I am worried I will make you too excited, and that my uniform may get a little messy perhaps splashed with water," Mary said, almost giggling. "Perhaps for safety's sake, I should remove my clothes."
"Mary, that's a very wise thought. Yyes, it would be better to be safe than sorry," I replied, eager to see those huge boobs that teased me from under the bodice of her uniform.
She released her grip on my cock and stepped away from the edge of the bathtub, deftly tugging at the strings that crisscrossed the bodice of her uniform. It only took seconds for the dress to hit the floor, and Mary stood before me, in black woolly stockings that reached just above the knees and nothing else. Her breasts were huge and full. They drooped only slightly, and they were capped with big brown nipples. Oh, my gosh, her nipples seemed to be growing harder and bigger by the second. Although a little tubby, she was well in proportion. Her body was pale white, apart from her arms that were burnished from the summer sun and a patch of curly brown hair between her thighs.
"Do you approve, Squire?" she asked, her arms open wide showing me her body in all its glory; she slowly turned around showing off her big firm bum.
My smile must have said it all as Mary moved back toward the bathtub and then dropped to her knees in front of me, taking my cock in her hand. She took up the soap and rubbed up a good lather. Slowly Mary stroked my cock along its length with her soapy hands, slow firm strokes, her right hand stroked my cock, and her left hand cupped my heavy bollocks rolling my balls in her palm slowly.
She washed my cock and balls thoroughly and then took the washing cup and swilled off the soapsuds. I looked down at her; Mary had a huge smile on her face and she was gazing at my cock lovingly. She looked up at me and her smile widened. Then she slipped her lips over the tip of my cock, taking just the helmet into her warm mouth.
Mary pulled back my foreskin with her right hand, slowly sucking on the tip of my cock; her left hand stroked and caressed my heavy hairy ball sack. Mary's head bobbed up and down a few times, sliding my dick further and further into her mouth. Damn, this girl could suck dick, her tight lips were dragging up and down the tight skin of my prick, and it felt good. Mary took her time pleasing me and I let her.
I watched as the tip of my knob slipped from her mouth with an audible pop. Her tongue then flicked out, licking all around the glistening angry red tip of my cock. She started licking, almost teasing along the slit on its tip, licking away a pearl shaped bead of pre-cum that had gathered on the tip of my dick. She looked up at me and licked her lips.
"Is that okay for you, Squire?" she smiled up at me. I could do no more than let out a groan of pleasure.
She laughed and then her tongue started to trace a route down the length of my throbbing organ, licking and kissing until she reached my balls. She nuzzled her nose into my heavy bollocks, kissing its rough hairy skin all over, before sucking one of my balls into her mouth. The pleasure was immense and intense as first one ball then the other was treated to a heavenly, soft suck. Then Mary did something that I had never had done before but soon became addicted to.
She stood up and asked me to turn round, which I did without hesitation, I leaned against the wall and opened my legs, again at Mary's request. I heard splashing behind me and then the warm, soapy washcloth was washing my lower back and my buttocks. I wondered if our sexual encounter had come to an abrupt end. I felt Mary running the washing cloth all over my lower back, then down over my buttocks. I almost jumped out of my skin when she started to open my buttocks wide and wash my asshole.
First, the washing cloth stroked over my arse, then Mary dropped the cloth and I felt her soapy fingers rubbing over the rough skin around my arsehole. Now on board ship when we had been at sea, for a while I had known men use other men for their pleasure but I had never been keen on the idea, but this was different and exciting, I felt Mary's hand drop to the water and then heard splashing as she rubbed the soap.
Mary's nimble fingers stroked my arse, pushing gently. I opened my legs as wide as possible, a gasp from behind me told me that this was to Mary's delight, and then I felt that soapy digit enter my arse. Just a little at first, just the very tip of her finger. At the beginning, I was shocked and a little apprehensive, but as her finger stroked in and out, I felt a pleasure and a stirring like no other. Her finger slipped out and I heard water splashing then it slid back inside me, soapy and warm. I felt the pressure of her knuckle as it slid into my ass, back and forth. She stroked it; every now and then, she applied more soap, and the pleasure was amazing.
Mary's whole finger was now fucking my tight virgin arse, in and out, with deep but gentle strokes. I could hear Mary behind me and she was breathing deeply, and above that, I could hear the gasp that I made every time her finger slid inside me fully. Mary then pulled her finger from me and once again took up the washing cup. She poured cup after cup of warm water down the crack of my ass, washing away the soapy water.
I then felt her fingers grip the taut flesh of my buttocks, holding them open and I sighed loudly as I felt her rough tongue run down the crack of my ass. Her tongue ran up and down from the small of my back down until I felt her lick my balls, repeatedly. Then her fingers dug into the flesh and opened my buttocks wider. I almost stopped breathing as the tip of her tongue made contact with my arsehole. Its wet tip was stroking all around my arsehole. I could hear the sound as she lapped at me, licking and kissing my anus.
Then I felt her tongue push at me like she was trying to enter me, her fingernails dug into the flesh of my buttocks and she licked harder. One of her hands reached around and took hold of my cock, stroking its shaft with vigour. She tugged on my cock pulling my foreskin back over my mushroom shaped helmet, back and forth, stroking my swelling, throbbing cock as her tongue worked in and out of my arse. I started to sway back and forth in rhythm with her hand as she wanked me off, and god bless her, she kept her mouth tightly attached to my arse.
She stroked my dick harder and harder, long firm strokes, using the soapy water as a lubricant. It was all too much for me. I felt my balls tightening and, as my breathing got deeper and deeper, I felt her quicken the pace. My cock swelled and then it jerked as I felt a long string of cum explode from me with such power that it hit the floor several feet away. I cried out with pleasure and felt my knees buckle beneath me.
Soon I found myself kneeling in the bath water, my heart was beating like a war drum, and I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. I sat back allowing the water to wash over me. I looked up. Mary was staring down at me, and every now and then, she flicked her tongue out over her lips.
I smiled up at her. "MY gosh, that was amazing, Mary."
She laughed aloud. "Twas my pleasure, Squire, Sir."
She reached down and picked up her dress, quickly slipping it on. I sat and watched as she dressed herself. I was annoyed at myself, as I had not stolen a feel of those gorgeous melon-like titties. Mary must have sensed my remorse as she quickly leaned over the bathtub and plonked a big wet kiss on my lips.
"Squire, perhaps I should come to your chamber tonight and we can have more of the same fun?" she said, her voice high and giggly.
"Mary," I replied, "that is a very good idea. I shall see you after supper tonight!"
She gave me a big smile and then with a giggle and a wiggle she was gone.