The Estate
Copyright© 2026 by MicaMeesha
Chapter 4
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4 - Life on a modern housing estate, interactions, infidelity, shenanigans and blackmail all occur in a small radius of just a few houses
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Teenagers Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Incest Mother Sister Interracial White Male Indian Female Oral Sex
I pulled up on the drive next to Jools’ car. I heard her chatting to Lena as I walked in, they were sitting in the kitchen. “Hi, ladies,” I greeted them.
“Hi, Hun,” Jools responded.
“Hi, Jase” from Lena.
“I really need to get going; I have to go and prepare a document for the director, but I was just enjoying a coffee with Lena.” Jools said looking directly at me.
“I suppose I ought to get off too,” Lena added.
“You don’t have to go, Lena; you can have another coffee. I am going to make some, and I would be happy to chat; I am sure you will make more sense than next door’s cat, which is my usual option when Jools goes to work.” Well, I always enjoy female company, and after the issues with Henry, Lena’s daughter, I wasn’t sure if I would get another opportunity to talk with Lena.
Jools wandered off upstairs to touch up her makeup, etc., I assumed. I ground some beans and made coffee. Jools came down, said her goodbyes and left. I put a coffee in front of Lena and then sat down with my own coffee.
“I am sorry.”
“What for?”
“My daughter and her behaviour.”
“She told me some things.”
“What, when?”
“I was in Costa in town yesterday, and she obviously saw me and came and sat at my table. I told her I wasn’t supposed to talk to her. She said she knew, but that she wanted to explain. She told me how she had been abused by her father when she turned thirteen and how it went on before you found out and threw him out.”
“Oh fuck.” Lena was quiet for a moment and then looked at me. “Okay, Jase. It wasn’t Henry that was abused. Her father hasn’t, in fact no man, has ever lived with us since she was about a year old.”
“Oh, so just another of her stories then, just plucked out of the air.”
Lena was still looking at me and she took my hand. “No, Jase, not entirely thin air.”
She squeezed my hand a little, and I was sure her eyes seemed to be tearing up a little.
“Oh,” I said. I mean, what else could I say?
“Henry must have found my diaries. When my mum found out about Dad, I mean, after she threw him out, she suggested I write everything down and then sealed the books away; she thought it would help me deal with it. Henry has obviously found them and read them.”
“Christ, so the things that Henry said happened to her actually happened to you? Wow, that is heavy.” I was really unsure what to say; this was virgin territory for me. I don’t think I know anyone who was abused.
Lena released my hand and got up. She walked to the window and looked out. “I don’t know what she said to you, so I don’t know if that is what happened to me.” She said, her back to me.
“Okay, well, without going into too much detail, she said her dad taught her to make him happy.”
Lena turned around and looked at me; she was crying a little. “Oh shit, that is the phrase he used. It is unusual, isn’t it?”
“Lena, I have no idea. As far as I know, nobody I know has been abused, so I don’t know if that is unusual. It is quite an effective description though.”
“Far more common than you think, abuse I mean, especially back then. I was young; I was developing, and I guess that is what he noticed. Mum was out at Auntie Doreen’s, who had just had Debbie, my cousin, so Mum was spending a lot of time there helping with the baby. Dad and I were sitting on the settee watching TV. He said that mum had been so busy lately she hadn’t really had time for us. That is how he started it. And he went on to say that she hadn’t been able to keep making him happy, and I said something stupid like I would make him happy instead.”
“Innocent words, I guess you had no idea.”
“I hope this is not bringing back bad memories.”
“Well, it is bringing back memories, memories I had kind of forgotten, but it is okay; I know it wasn’t my fault, I know I was abused, and I can handle it. I have had normal relationships with men that I have enjoyed. I have a daughter who I love, and I think I am in a good place.”
“Henry says she never sees you with men.”
“Oh, I have been discreet; I guess I was trying to kind of keep that side of things from Henry, trying to avoid the awkward questions.”
I got up and ground some coffee and made us another couple of espressos. My heart was thumping. I was appalled at the abuse and would cheerfully part her father from his testicles if I ever met him. At the time I was conflicted; she was a very attractive woman, and I would love to get her naked in my, or her, bed and fuck her, but today seemed the wrong time to make any moves like that.
“Anyway, one day after Mum came back from one of her trips to Auntie Doreen’s, she was doing the laundry, and she came and asked me if I had been in her bed. I said yes before I realised what I had said. She asked me if Daddy had been there too. I had looked at the floor and tried to avoid her eyes. She asked if we had clothes on, and I broke down and told her what had been going on. By then, of course, I knew that it was wrong but felt I was in so deep that I couldn’t do anything about it. Mum was quiet for a moment, and then she asked me if I wanted to carry on. She said I wasn’t in any trouble, but that there was not room for two women in Dad’s bed.”
“She didn’t go ballistic or mad or anything?”
‘No, she was calm, and the way she said it, I knew if I didn’t stop then, she would leave, and I didn’t want that. So I told her that when it started, I didn’t know it was wrong, but now I did, but I didn’t know how to stop. She said if I wanted it to stop, then she would stop it right there and then. And she did. She went upstairs and put all his clothes in bags and put them outside the front door. When he came home, she told him to leave or she was going to the police.”
“I am amazed she didn’t go to the police.” I mean, I was thinking, “If I found out my partner had been abusing our child over several years, I would end up doing jail time for murder.”
“No. She said if she reported him I would face lots of questions and it would just make it worse for me. At the end of the day it was just sex. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. ‘Write it all down,’ she had said, ‘and then try and forget about it.’ So that is what I did.”
“Christ, and did you ever see him again?”
Her eyes were wet again, and I am useless with crying women; I never know what to do for the best. “Look,” she said, “please don’t say anything about this; this is the first time I have talked about it for twenty years.”
“No, of course I won’t.” And I meant it; I would not betray that confidence, ever.
“Not even to Jools.”
“No. Not even my wife.”
“I need to go. I have some thinking to do.”
What a bloody stunning afternoon. I don’t think you face things like that very often. I was pleased that she had spared me the intricate details, and as I thought about it, she had recounted it the way a young teen would; it was as if she had gone back in time and was reliving it and retelling it the way she would back then.
After Jools got back, we had a quiet tea; I feigned a headache. Jools had asked what Lena and I talked about; I had said, ‘Not much, we had a coffee and she went.’. That evening I unblocked Henry’s phone. Not sure why, but I thought just in case Lena needed help, at least Henry could contact me.
The day after Lena’s revelations I was sitting in the lounge working, just doing some reports, final editing, that sort of thing, and there was a ring at the door. I put the laptop down and opened the door. It was Margaret, the God Botherer from the other day.
“Hello,” she said, “I am sorry to bother you.”
“It’s no bother; I had just finished some work. On your own today, I see?”
“Er, yes, I am just here for me. Can I talk to you?
“Yes, look, come in; don’t stand on the step.”
“Are you sure it is not a problem?”
“Come in, woman.” I stood back and made space for her to enter. She stepped past me and stood in the middle of the lounge. “Would you like a coffee?”
She looked around and then back at me. “If it is no trouble.”
“Well, if it was going to be trouble, I probably wouldn’t have offered. Now, how do you have it?”
“White, no sugar, please.”
I went through to the kitchen and ground some beans and made 2 espressos. As I turned to the fridge to get the milk, I saw her standing in the doorway. “Crikey, Margaret, is it? You could have sat down; it’s okay, you know.”
“I wasn’t sure where to sit; which seat was yours?”
Lordy, she was a strange one. “Margaret, they are just chairs; sit on any of them; that is what they are for.”
I passed her the coffee and ushered her through to the lounge. I sat on one end of the settee and left her to make her own choice of next to me or the armchair opposite. She sat in the armchair.
“I wanted to talk a bit more about what you said the other day.” She really looked nervous; she didn’t seem to want to make eye contact and had both hands around her coffee as if it were a protective shield.
“I have thought about what you said. And I have prayed for guidance.”
Oh good grief. “And did your God answer you?” Humour her, Jason, humour her.
“Yes. That is why I am here.”
“Okay. I think you need to explain.”
“You are right, the rules of the church are not necessarily the rules of God; he only gave us ten rules, and nowhere did it say that you should not, you know, enjoy sex with your husband.”
I am not really familiar with the commandments if I am honest. “Right, the commandments, and wasn’t one of them about not coveting your neighbour?” I asked, trying to show some knowledge of the area. It had been a long time since I had been to Sunday School.
“No, you have mixed them up. One was ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness against your neighbour’; the other was simply ‘Thou shall not covet.’ Lots of people seem to get them muddled up.”
Well, she knows her Bible. “Okay, sorry I am not an expert in this. It seems to me that they were just some sensible rules for the time. The church seems to have made its own rules up since, and that is what I object to.”
“I think that the church has rules that were defined many years ago, and they seem to have failed to keep them up to date.”
“Yes, and now, people like you are denied simple honest pleasures, and I find that abhorrent.”
“That is kind of what I wanted to talk about, but...” she paused and looked intently into her coffee.
“Margaret, it’s okay; you can say absolutely anything to me. You have no need to be embarrassed. Look, anything, anything at all you say here is private, just between us, and I shall never ever repeat any of it to anyone.” This was getting interesting; I didn’t want her clamming up on me now.
“Only, it was what you said about our husbands, my husband, you know?”
“Yes, I said I bet that he just takes his own pleasure as and when he wants it and gives no thought to your pleasure.”
“Yes.” She paused again and took a gulp, an audible gulp, of her coffee. “Last night.” She stopped again.
“Yes, last night, as you said, he told me to go up and get ready, as he usually says when he wants to, you know, do it.”
“Yes, when he wants sex.”
“Er, yes. So I went up and took my clothes off and washed myself and lay on the bed. He came up and took his clothes off, and he went to just lie on me as usual. I said, Could he sort of touch me first, you know, give me a little pleasure?”
“Okay, nothing wrong with that.” Well, there wasn’t; it was an innocent and totally fair question, I thought.
“He slapped me and called me a whore. He pushed himself in me, and when he finished he got up and went to the bathroom to clean himself as he always does. He came back in and told me to stop behaving like a common five-pound whore from the streets. I was just lying there, my face stinging and his, you know, stuff just, well, dribbling out of me.”
“Christ.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“Okay, I am sorry. I have no respect for men that hit women. Apart from the slap, that is normal for you? You go upstairs and lie on the bed, and he comes up, fucks you and cleans himself up and goes to sleep? Wow, that is such a shame. I must say I do feel for women like you that just take it and get no pleasure. And I also wonder how he knows how much a whore costs these days.”
“Please don’t use that word. He made love to me, not what you said.” She looked angrily at me. She was more concerned at the words I used than the behaviour of her husband.
“Margaret, if there is one thing your husband did not do, it is that he did not make love to you. What he did do was take his own pleasure with no love for you.”
“I see that now, but what can I do?”
“If I were you, I would seek pleasure elsewhere.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can, Margaret. Look, as a starter, go home. I bet that you are very natural down there, untrimmed, shall we say?”
She blushed; she actually blushed. I took that as a yes. “Get some scissors and trim yourself; make it neat and tidy, like a nice garden, rather than an untamed wilderness. When you have done that, lie on the bed and gently touch yourself down there and find out what pleasure is. You know the spot; give that the attention it needs.”
“What do you mean the spot?”
“Do you not, you know, give yourself pleasure by rubbing down there?”
“My goodness, no, such a thing, no.”
“Oh Margaret, there is nothing wrong with it. It is normal human behaviour; I cannot believe that you don’t rub yourself and make yourself climax.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I don’t rub myself and I am not a man; I do not, er, finish the way a man does.”
“Oh Margaret, this is the stuff you should have learned when you were a teenager. Look, go home, trim your garden, lie on the bed and explore yourself. At the top of your,” I paused to try and find words that wouldn’t offend her, “at the top of your lady area, just where the two sides meet, you have a little pleasure spot, a button if you like. Gently play with that.”
“I can’t do that; I can’t touch myself there, it is wrong.”
“No, Margaret, it is not wrong. Ask your God, and I am sure that if he answers, it will be to say it is not wrong.”
“I think perhaps Doreen was right; you are the devil.”
“Margaret, if I were the devil, I would not have told you to go and pray to your God; I would have used my powers and ravished you myself to show you what pleasure really is. No, I am not. Go home, and if you feel brave, why not ask your husband how he knows how much a whore costs?”
It was a few days later when Lena called around. I opened the door.
“Hi, Lena.” Well, what else would you say?
“Is Jools in?”
“No, Lena, she is in her office in town today. Shall I tell her you called round?”
“No, God, no. Look, about the other day, you know what I said.”
“Lena, come inside, sit down and just relax. Where’s Henry? Is she all right?”
Lena came in, and I shut the door behind her. I asked her if she wanted a coffee; she just shook her head. I sat on the settee; Lena sat next to me.
“I looked in Henry’s room, and I found my diaries. I took them back, and I have put them where she will never find them.”
“Did you confront her about it?”
“No, what’s the point? It would be just more lies. I simply tidied her room and changed her bed. When she realises that they are no longer in her room, she will just assume I found them when I made her bed, and hopefully that is that. Henry is fine; she is at work today.”
“So, and what about you? More to the point, how are you after our talk the other day? No bad dreams brought on by forgotten memories, I hope?”
“No. Look, I, well, I felt something, something unexpected, and it kind of embarrasses me and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Lena, I don’t know what you mean. Did you mean you want to go and find your father?”
“God no, he is dead to me. No, no, it was other things, something else I felt, and I am in a quandary.”
“Well, when I feel like that, I just act on my instincts; I go where my gut sends me. It usually works out right.”
“Can I ask you something really personal?”
“Of course. I reserve the right not to answer, though.”
“Do you and Jools have a healthy sex life?”
“What? Where the hell did that question come from?”
“Please, it is important to me.”
“Well, as it happens, no we don’t. She has an issue down there.” That, of course, is not true; Jools and I fuck like rabbits as often as we can. We do, however, have an agreement. We can do what we like with whomever we like, but we have to be beyond discreet; no one must know or suspect. No point in Lena knowing that.
“So, is your marriage safe? Are you going to split up?”
“Safe as houses, no worries there.” Well, there were other reasons that we were safe as houses, but discretion and not drawing attention to ourselves was important.
“So what do you do, you know, to release the pressure?”
“Well, the same as any man, I suppose. Look, Lena, why are you asking this?”
“Ever since our talk I have been feeling that pressure, and I don’t know how to get rid of it.”
“Oh, come on, Lena,” I waggled my finger in a wiping up and down and then in a circular motion. “Of course you know.”
“That didn’t relieve the pressure.”
I was about to tell her that obviously she wasn’t doing it right; perhaps she was out of practice when she kissed me. She rolled onto my lap, legs astride mine, and kissed me hard, her tongue pressing in, her hands holding my head. ‘Hello,’ I thought.
“I need,” she said between kisses, “to feel a normal moment, to help erase the memories that I bought back the other day. With my dad it was all about making him happy; never pleasure for me. Am I being inappropriate?”
I waited for a break in the kisses. “No, not at all,” I answered as I cupped her left breast through her clothes. I felt her nipple and slowly squeezed and teased it, my tongue seeking hers.
“Take me to your bed,” Lena said as she climbed off my lap, relieving the pressure on my dick which had been trapped in my trousers beneath her as she ground herself on me. I got up and led the way.
“Follow me,” I said, a surprising croak to my voice. In the bedroom I turned to her, pulled her top up over her head and dropped it on Jools’ dresser chair. Her bra was a lacy blue mostly mesh, which made it almost non-existent, her nipples clearly showing. I undid the button on her skirt and let it fall to the bedroom floor. Her knickers matched her bra and clearly showed her sex. ‘She planned this and dressed for the occasion,’ I thought.
I turned her around, undid the clasp on her bra and dropped it onto the dresser chair with her top, putting my thumbs inside her knickers’ waist, and I rolled them down her legs until they puddled at the floor. I turned her back around to face me and kissed her lips, my hands cupping her breasts and my fingers dancing across her nipples.
As I played with her, she worked at my belt and undid it and my trousers. I stepped back, releasing her. I pulled my T-shirt over my head and pushed my trousers and undershorts down, releasing my dick, which sprang free, waving a greeting to her. Lena moved to the bed and lay down, her legs apart, her sex open and glistening.
“Fuck me,” she said. Well yes, that was the plan, but not just yet. I knelt between her legs, but instead of putting my dick in her sex, I used my tongue. My nose pushed against her nubbin, pressing and rotating it as my tongue rimmed her fanny hole. I slipped a finger up under my chin and slowly inserted it inside her and gently finger-fucked her.
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