A New Life
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Petting,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 7 - Jenni is a runaway teenager who is rescued (and effectively adopted) by Dave. Both are healed of past hurts by their developing relationship, and both find love.
We soon established a pattern. During the week I did my thing with dripping taps, sticking doors and collapsing shelves. In the evening I revisited my youth helping Jenni catch up with studies; the college recommended study materials and she took very seriously her opportunity to get a head start. We read classics and contemporary fiction, studied English, French and Spanish grammar (quite a departure for me. As I think I mentioned before, I speak only English with a smattering of foreign phrases) and delved into mathematics and science where I had at least a background knowledge. We listened to music, and we talked. At bedtime Jenni joined me most nights in the master cabin. I never did work out her system of deciding when to join me and when not. She never pressed me again, though I often woke with either her hand on me, or my hand cupping her breast. Mornings, she began to run with me. It was hard for her at first, but she quickly caught up and soon was running further and faster than me.
At weekends, Jessica joined us and if the weather looked good, we sailed, often with Donna. We sailed to Pin Mill on the Orwell (setting of Ransome's 'We Didn't Mean to Go to Sea') and one long weekend we re- enacted that story with a passage to Flushing. We visited the Walton Backwaters ("Secret Water"). We sailed up the Colne and listened to a Nightingale while anchored off Fingringhoe. At night, Jessica and I slept together and made love; I occasionally felt bad about excluding Jenni, especially when Donna wasn't with us, but she seemed very happy.
When the weather wasn't so promising, we stayed in Jessica's flat and explored the district's various attractions as far afield as Bury St. Edmunds. We even, from time to time, went to church on Sunday mornings. During this time, in May Jenni's birthday came round. Jessica arranged for us to board S.B. Reminder for the weekend with Donna and Charlie Taylor. Her skipper was so impressed with Jenni's ability he gave her an open invitation to ship as 'third hand', traditionally the route to a place as mate on one of the old barges. Life was good. In fact, most weekends from June Jenni was sailing in one or other of the barges, often from Maldon, but sometimes from Mistley, Harwich or Ipswich, occasionally from London, but rapidly gaining experience and confidence.
It was in June we got news about Jenni's abductors; her stepfather had been remanded for psychiatric assessment; his accomplice had agreed to plead guilty and was in HMP Whitemoor in the Fens. I had a twinge of anxiety about the news, but dismissed it.
Also in June Jenni decided to bite the bullet and call her mother. I don't know what was said, of course, but I agreed to take her up to Acle in Norfolk to see her. I felt it better they meet alone; Jenni just nodded when I suggested it, but there was a small pub a few yards away where I was served coffee while I waited. I also took the opportunity to start this account...
Jenni and her mother appeared after about an hour. I could see the resemblance, which was marked, but I could also see the result of her experiences in her face and manner. Her face, so like Jenni's, finely lined and somehow, indefinably, sad. Actually, the description that comes to mind was of a spaniel that has misbehaved and is desperately hoping its expression will find mercy from its owner.
"Hullo," she said, holding out a hand, "I'm Loraine Turner. I'm pleased to meet the man who has made such an impression on my daughter." There were definitely a number of subscripts in that statement.
"She's a remarkable and very special young lady," I commented as neutrally as I could manage. "I think she's had as much effect on my life as I have had on hers." I left a very long pause, watching her face, and then added "For example, if it wasn't for Jenni, I wouldn't have met my fiancée."
I'm not sure what was in the succession of expressions that crossed her face; I am quite sure that the final smile was more than a little insincere...
"How sweet," was all she said.
We had a very acceptable meal (though I was less impressed with the beer) and Jenni and I returned to the Ferry a little after tea-time.
Over our evening meal and (in my case) a large glass of whiskey (Famous Grouse) with very little water, Jenni asked, "well ... what did you make of my mother?"
"I'm afraid," I said very slowly, "I didn't like her very much. I can't make up my mind how much of that is coloured by what I know of your history and how much is my impression of her as a person. I think it's what I feel from her in person."
"Good," she said. "I don't want to condemn her, but she must have known what was going on. I'm sorry to say, I think she was just happy to have some attention directed away from her ... but, Dave, I think you may need to be very wary of her. I did not like the way she was looking at you. I wouldn't like what you and Jessica have together to maybe be damaged. I saw her expression when you spoke of being engaged. It was not, 'how wonderful, I hope you'll be very happy'."
If I remember rightly, that was the week that I took Jenni (on Friday) to Maldon to join the crew (read, Skipper and Mate) of the good ship, Sailing Barge "Reminder" for a weekend cruise. That in turn meant Jessica and I had the whole weekend to ourselves. Of course, that meant I had to give an account of our visit to Acle and Jenni's mother. She frowned before saying,