Bottling it all up, but not well.
They were still only half dressed when they did eventually come into the kitchen. He was in shorts that hid nothing important of him--Brenda had to glance away from what was still too obvious—and a sweat-shirt, while Sheila was in panties—tissues bulging obviously behind them, and no doubt damp from him, and another sweat-shirt, but no bra. Her nipples were hard enough to take out anyone’s eyes!
He’d love that!
She wouldn’t say anything right off the bat. Not the way she was feeling: overwhelmed.
“Our outer clothes got wet yesterday on the Fell, Mom, and are in the dryer so I gave him a few of dad’s things to wear.”
Her mother responded calmly enough, needing something to say, other than what filled her mind.
“It was about time they were used for something.”
She sighed. It was time to let her husband go and to get on with life again as these two were doing. She had not realised how much she had missed the closeness of a man; his warm and welcome attentiveness.
She watched, saying nothing as Peter washed his hands and put on the kettle (at least he had one good habit), got down the cups and set the table. He knew his way around the house and had already made himself at home. Yes, he had certainly done that: fucking her daughter like that. He showed no contrition whatsoever!
“You must be, Peter.”
The man I caught raping my daughter not five minutes ago!
She wanted to scream that at him and ask him to explain himself.
“I am.” He turned, smiled at her (how dared he smile after entertaining Sheila with that… that… thing that was still too damned obvious?) and held out his hand to her, not sure she would take it, but giving her a chance to open doors rather than to close them. It was an unexpected gesture, and he had a captivating smile, the swine!
She had expected him to be defensive, cowed even, at having been caught fucking her daughter, but here she was, on the defensive side of things. Neither of them seemed to care that she had caught them red-handed, or what she thought about them doing that. Could they both be so assured? This was not the Sheila she’d left behind last Sunday.
She decided she would not be so small, or spiteful, and shook his hand as he looked into her face, still smiling, not in the least ashamed of what he had been caught doing to Sheila, but why would he be? He was confident in himself; a handsome rogue. No wonder he’d swept Sheila off her feet so fast.
She wondered for a second, if she'd remembered to put panties on that morning; feeling strange down there.
Annie must have known this was happening, and she would have some explaining to do.
Brenda was at a loss for words for once in her life, but soon woke up. “Annie told me some of this, but nothing prepares a mother for what I saw… for this.” her words tailed off.
She started again, looking at her daughter as Peter sat beside her on the kitchen bench, touching her familiarly on the leg and pulling her closer to him as her mother fought to find words, wanting to tell him to back off.
Thy were like two children with their hands caught in the cookie jar.
Had she not seen them she would never have believed they could be so calm after they’d just finished doing that to each other, except they were both still flushed, and were breathing in a more noticeably labored way than seemed usual, and their eyes were smiling at each other.
It looked like love. But so soon?
Annie said she had never seen Sheila happier, and Brenda had to agree.
It was all coming back to her now. This was what a man did; taking a woman off guard, slowly pushing all of her defenses to one side; persuading, relentlessly wearing her down and then off came the clothes with little or no resistance.
She tried to recall her own mother’s words when she had caught her and her boyfriend together, almost like that (he’d got started on her bra and panties in preparation, so they were naked together) before they’d got married, with her barely sixteen and him nearly twenty, just about the age Peter was. Her mother had regarded that as rape, even though she'd interrupted everything.
The less that mothers found out about what their daughters were doing when they first got away from home, the better. She should close her mind and her eyes to all of this, and act as though nothing had happened, and that she’d seen nothing.
What Annie had said in the lengthy telephone call came back to her, and it was not nearly so combattive.
“Did you really save my daughter’s life?”
That was unexpected.
Annie had been talking.
“Yes Mom, he did.” Sheila took over before Peter could say anything to deny it. “He did save my life. I wouldn’t have got off the Fell, that day without his help.” That was probably true. She looked at Peter with a smile at him as though to say; ‘let me tell it, Peter’.
“I was in the bottom of a gully miles from anywhere on the Fell, lying in a pool of water, with a twisted ankle and I would not have been able to get myself out of there. I couldn’t even walk.”
Peter got up to see to the hot water and the tea, not comfortable being portrayed as any kind of hero after that earlier embarrassment.
“I couldn’t have crawled up to the top of the gully, and I certainly couldn’t have crawled the two miles (one mile) to get to the road, and then the miles to get here. No one travels the road that often. I could have been there for days.”
That was laying it on a bit thick.
Peter put the teapot, next to where the kettle was heating, and brought a trivet to the table to set the hot teapot on when everything was made. Brenda watched, needing to find out about him as quickly as she could.
He’d been well house-trained somewhere.
“I was also soaked through to the skin. I’m lucky he heard me fall.”
“You were wet?” Annie might have said something about that too, but she hadn’t really been listening.
“Yes. I was soaked through! He helped me dry out my clothes, giving me some of his.”
He’d undressed her and got undressed himself! A very touchy business. No wonder they'd got to this stage so fast.
“He dried out my clothes, and his own; saw to my ankle….”
And no doubt he had seen to other things too.
“…And after he’d dressed me, he helped me get back here.”
No one needed a crystal ball to imagine what had happened between them even then.
“How did he get you back home?”
Sheila’s voice broke as she looked at Peter.
“He carried me, Mom.” She reached over and squeezed her mother’s hand. “He physically carried me off the fell.”
That would have taken some doing, but he did look capable of it. Mrs. Wheately could see that her daughter had been smitten; captured, undressed, and fucked. Just like she had been within a couple of days of meeting her future husband.
“He carried me down to the river, and I got him to come back here for the bike. He couldn’t have carried me all the way home, but he would have tried if I hadn’t stopped him. He got me home on that.”
“And that was on Monday?”
Her daughter nodded. The day after her mother had left.
“We talked a lot and we… found we had a lot of things in common and that we were each drawn to the other.”
They looked at each other. That look told her mother everything. They had certainly been drawn to each other to have been doing what they had just been doing.
She wouldn’t learn any of the important stuff without a direct question.
“When did this other… closer relationship…thing… begin between you.” She looked at Peter, but they both answered at the same time.
“Almost immediately.” They looked at each other, still smiling, holding each other.
“I fell in love with Sheila the moment I met her.”
That didn’t answer the question her mother had thought she’d asked.
She wanted to know how long he had been… doing this… other, intimate thing, to her daughter? When did the fucking, begin? She would have asked it calmly enough, even using that more direct description that Annie would have used, but didn’t, deciding to stay as calm as she could. Asking that, in that vulgar way would tip the balance and bring Sheila to his defense again.
“And when did this other… intimacy, begin between you?”
Peter laughed as he leaned over and kissed Sheila on the neck putting both of his arms around her just under her breasts and behind her, setting her blushing as she looked up at him.
Brenda even began to feel overdressed and prickly around the neck of her coat.
“That, began yesterday evening.”
Sheila fidgeted and opened her mouth to set her mother straight.
“Mom….” Except Peter kissed under her ear, causing her to hesitate.
Brenda winced, feeling suddenly agitated herself as though he had just kissed her like that; was actually touching her where he was touching Sheila. She felt a more prickly, tingling sensation start at the top of her head and creep quickly down her body, bringing her own nipples to life; feeling a sudden dampness between her thighs. She hoped her nipples were not obvious.
“You don’t have to defend me, Sheila. We have nothing to be ashamed of.”
Sheila came back at him. “I’m not defending you, Peter. I was the one who went after you, encouraging you to become intimate with me every step of the way. I’m telling her. It was my idea when we did it.”
Peter seem taken aback to hear that. Had that been how it had started?
“But I was too eager, Sheila, setting the scene, and pushing you along all of the time.”
That sounded right. A man always moved it along, giving the girl, little choice until it morphed into being her idea when it wasn’t. That was when she gave up, and gave in, and it became her unavoidable decision that she had to make and live with, because she was really being given no choice. That, or getting raped, or lose him.
But if a man didn’t do that, and the women didn’t give in, then ninety percent of women would still be virgins and living alone in misery, and they knew it. Being fucked regularly, and having a man all over you all of the time was acceptable, compared to that alternative.
Sheila’s mother reached out across the table and laid her hand flat on the table in a silent plea to them both. She was not sure what to think.
“Please stop. Neither of you let any grass grow under your feet did you.” It had not been a question.
“Actually, we did, Mom. I’d started my period at that same time, that same afternoon, Monday, so we couldn’t easily make love then, or I would have done.”
Brenda realized how serious her daughter was about that, stating it openly like that, and even defiantly.
“We did the next best thing, Mom. We’ve shared the same bed every night now, from a few hours after we met, and I invited that too. I needed him with me or I would never have slept.”
This was not the daughter she remembered. Sheila had grown up and become a woman in the last few days, but she still didn’t like it.
The kettle began to whistle, so Peter got up to make tea for them.
Both of their eyes followed him. Each seeing different things. Each with different feelings bubbling away.
He was still too obvious there, still keen to be at Sheila again and would, at the first opportunity, and Sheila would be keen to help him, which was not surprising, considering the conversation and how they had been touching each other.
He was not shy, or hiding himself either, setting her mother blushing and looking away; and her a grown woman who knew all about this, but her daughter was entranced by what she could see, watching him all of the time, and them smiling at each other when their eyes met.
Her mother knew that look. They might not wait but would just get back to it in front of her if they became desperate enough. It was a done deal. Out of her hands. There was nothing she could do.
Brenda recalled other things Sheila had told her about him.
He had sisters. Had he learned to be so nonchalantly defiant about his body, not shy of it, because of them?
After he made tea and set it on the table, aware of the silence that had descended once he’d got up, Peter could see that it would be better if he left Sheila and her mother alone to talk. They had a lot that they would need to share and get out of the way.
“Excuse me. I think you two should talk alone together. You need to talk, and I would just be in the way at this moment. I’ll go out and check the calves one last time and then I’ll come in and have a tea with you before I retire.”
He turned to Sheila and touched her on the arm. “Tell your mother everything, my love. She needs to know.”
They watched him go, and heard him putting wellingtons on at the back door before he left the house.
Brenda had not expected him to be so considerate as to leave them to talk about him, but he was turning out to be a surprise in so many ways; one of which she would never be able to forget, seeing that slowly coming out of her daughter, and still coming out long after he should already have dropped free.
Sheila’s mother leaned forward, took her daughter’s hands affectionately, and lowered her voice as she spoke so that only Sheila would hear her with all of the windows open, as he walked up through the garden with a flashlight letting them know where he was.
“Did he hurt you, my dear, with that…?”
What on earth made her ask that particular question she would never know. She even laughed, saying that, but was crying too. She didn’t know what to feel for herself or her daughter; despair, or happiness.
“Mother!” Sheila blushed and laughed.
“Sorry. But I’m serious. Did he hurt you? He's very big... there.”
“No. No more than one would expect at first.” She came back with a question of her own.
“Did dad hurt you, the first time?”
This conversation was becoming very personal for them both, but her mother had had a major shock and was not about to hold anything back now.
She blushed. “It was uncomfortable for me. Almost painful; I was so tense, but your father was smaller than that, from what I remember. Or maybe I just got used to him. I think it took him two days of persistence to finally… do that… get into me there, but after that we never looked back.”
Sheila could be equally forthright.
“Peter and I were about the same, but we had time to prepare for it, mentally and physically too."
They would have to, from what her mother had seen of him.
She looked her mother in the eyes. “No, Mom, he did not hurt me. We’d tried to do it all day out on the Fell on Thursday, so I was beginning to be concerned. What if I couldn’t let him into me? What if he couldn't, as much as he so needed to? What would he think or feel?"
She laughed. “I worried for nothing. He was very slow about it.”
“So, he didn’t… force…?”
“No. Peter’s not like that, Mom. He wouldn’t hurt me.”
Brenda knew enough to listen.
“I wanted him to make love to me before you got back on Saturday, so we did it for the first-time last night after we relaxed when we got back from the Inn.” She wouldn’t tell her mother any more about that. Not yet.
“I’m sorry if I disappointed you, Mom, not telling you sooner, but I knew what I wanted within minutes of meeting him. I wanted him.”
“You’ll never disappoint me my dear. I was afraid I’d kept you too close to me all these years, and then when your father died, we became too dependent upon each other. I knew I was suffocating you, but I daren’t let go.”
“It wasn’t you, Mom. I didn’t make many friends at university. I didn’t like any of the boys and kept away from them. I wasn’t ready. Then Peter came into my life.”
She poured a cup of tea for her mother and then for herself.
“I was scared of him at first. I’d never been so close to any man that way, not even to dad, and he scared me when he began to undress me; my own feelings scared me, but he dealt with me very gently and kindly… after a tricky beginning.” Her mother would find out about that later. She'd tell her everything. They had few secrets and this was not the time to begin with any.
She smiled remembering that. “I was wet, hurting, and… I’d had to get rid of that new bra as it was killing me. He took my shirt off before I could stop him, to get me dry… and I couldn’t do anything to stop him after that. He was so gentle and kind. He never put a foot wrong. He gave me his shirt, putting it around me, then he took off my shorts.” She blushed. “I still had my panties on.”
But nothing else. And they hid nothing. She had been as good as naked!
“It just grew between us from there. I feared for the worst, and found only the best. He was wonderful in every way.
Yes. Her daughter was in love.
The calves had stopped their complaining. Peter would soon be coming back.
They watched the flashlight as Peter came back to the house down through the garden.
“You won’t say anything to hurt him, will you Mom?”
Her mother patted her hand. “No Sheila, I won’t. I don’t think I could now, after that little talk and seeing you as happy as you are. But we will need to have a lengthy talk tomorrow about a few things before you go back to university.”
Peter came in, making enough noise, washed his hands again, and sat down as Sheila poured him a cup of tea, filling her own cup and her mother’s again, before moving over to sit on his knee with her arm around his neck as he held her there, his hand over her leg, high on her thigh, even between them, and far too familiarly.
He looked from one to the other, knowing that he had come in too soon and interrupted them.
“The calves are seen to. I should retire and let you two talk. I was only out for ten minutes.”
“No.” Mrs. Wheately interrupted him and stopped him getting up. “You stay. I’ll go to bed. I’m tired, but I’ll have a bath first. I’ve been flying all day, then that train, and then driving back from the station. I’m exhausted. We’ll talk more in the morning. I can see Sheila’s happy and no mother could ask for more.” She was looking at him differently too.
“Where does this go from here?” She knew it was out of her hands now.
“We go back to University together on Sunday, Mom, if you will drive us to the train. We’ve already decided we’ll live together. He has a house near campus. Don’t worry, I’ll go into the University clinic first thing, and make sure I don’t get pregnant.”
“What about longer term? Where will this go? Or am I asking too much too soon?”
Sheila looked at Peter. He took his cue from that and took over.
“We touched on it. We’ll marry soon, and with your approval and permission, but we should graduate first.” At least that was something, and they were being sensible about it. Except that the fucking would always continue, after that start.
Brenda nodded. They had certainly moved quickly. “Give me time to get used to the idea. My mind’s a mess, but I’m relieved to be home. I’ve been travelling all day and through enough time zones. I’ll have to let you decide on your own arrangements tonight, and after this…?”
There was nothing she could do anyway. She was thankful to see that Sheila was happy.
“Thanks Mom, for understanding.” Sheila could see that her mother was almost ready to cry.
It was time to be more understanding than her own mother had been. “I’m sorry for being… a typical mother, Sheila, but I was taken off guard, and I needed to know you were alright.”
“I know you are concerned, Mom, but I’m alright.”
She could see that for herself.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Her mother stood up and picked up a case with her night things and toiletries in it and went up for a bath. She would need a crash course on learning about Peter and what had happened. All of it.
She heard their voices as she mounted the stairs, and what could only have been them struggling to get clothing out of their way, or off again, to continue what she had so suddenly interrupted; and then there was the sound of kissing, the scraping of a chair, and giggling.
They were still eager to be at each other. Sheila’s panties would be the first to go, and then he’d be into her again even where they were, with her on his knee if he wasn’t already into her before her mother had even got to the top of the stairs; and with his hand pushed up under her shirt.
Oh, the fire of first love!
It was going to be a hectic house for a few days, but her daughter was happy. That was all a mother could ask for, but she’d rather it had not happened this way.
Peter smiled and kissed Sheila as she moved her panties with those tissues, down her legs and she came onto him, straddling him, facing him, feeling him go into her as he lifted her shirt off her. It was easy this time, almost as though he hadn’t left her.