A Wooden Heart

George found Peter tinkering with the old lawn mower. He had taken it to pieces, cleaned and sharpened it and was now putting it back together again.

"You've done a marvellous job Peter. How did you manage it?"

"I looked at the book and followed its advice. Is the garden satisfactory?"

"It's probably never looked better. You have a real talent for gardening and plants." George walked back indoors and wondered if Peter's background had something to do with his ability.

Shortly after he had eaten his lunch, there was a knock at the front door.

"Hello George. I haven't seen you for a while, so I thought that I'd pop by for a chat." It was Mrs Overbury, a neighbour from further down the lane. She was a good looking woman in her mid-forties. Divorced three years ago, rumour had it she was looking for the second Mr Overbury (or whatever his name would be). The sculptor couldn't believe that she would ever have been interested in him and consequently -- unlike most men around -- didn't feel threatened.

They sat talking for a little while, general chit chat; the weather, the new people who had moved in on the other side of the wood. The entire time she seemed animated and distracted until, finally, she couldn't hold back any longer. "Now tell me George, who is that handsome hunk you have working in your garden?"

George was somewhat taken aback. Until now he was convinced that he had become mentally unstable and that it was only him that could see and hear Peter moving and talking. Clearly he was wrong if Milly could see him too.

He thought for a moment before answering, "His name is Peter. Peter Nocchia. He's... my son."

Millicent's smile froze on her face, but her eyebrows betrayed her surprise. Her mind raced. She had never heard George mention a son, or even a liaison close enough to produce one. "Really? Where has he been hiding all this time?"

"He's been... with his mother," he replied carefully.

"And where is she?"

George shrugged, "Buried." He hadn't told a lie, had he?

There was a twinkle in her eye as Milly asked, "He's such a good gardener. Would he be interested in working on mine? I'll pay him well."

"I'm not sure. We'll have to ask him."

They walked out into the garden, where Peter was just finishing the lawn. The garden looked immaculate.

"Peter, Mrs Overbury here would like to know if you would be able to do some work on her garden. How would you feel about that? She would pay you."

"Pay me?" he asked. "For gardening?" He seemed confused.

"That's right. You're good at it and it could earn you some money for clothes and things."

"I think I'd like to do more gardening father. It will be interesting."

George escorted Milly back inside. "I'll bring him along tomorrow morning at about ten o'clock, how's that?"

"That will be great George. Thank you."

*****

Chapter 4

"Good morning George. Hello Peter. Thanks for coming round."

George left Peter with Milly. On the way there he had explained that when he finished working for Mrs Overbury he was to walk straight back home again.

Peter was shown the old outhouse where Milly's garden tools were kept. The young man looked around the garden, apparently deciding what needed to be done and what to start with. He had brought a small bag of tools with him and opened it up to remove a sharpening stone. He then proceeded to sharpen each of the edged tools he found. When he had finished, he began work proper, starting with a seemingly vicious pruning of the rose bushes that had started to grow a little wild.

While Peter worked Milly watched from her upstairs window. He didn't seem to work very fast, but he didn't take a rest at all and so the work seemed to show an effect very quickly. Unfortunately, the garden wasn't really what she was observing at the moment. Her eyes were on Peter. He was tall, strong and handsome and his body looked like that of an Adonis. She couldn't help but admire how the muscles moved under his shirt -- and his trousers! Oh, and she couldn't help but notice that something substantial seemed to be down the front of them.

At midday, she walked out into the garden with a sandwich and a cold drink. She didn't know if he drank alcohol -- in fact she didn't even know if he was old enough to drink, so she poured him a glass of lemonade. When she handed the tray to him he thanked her and put it to one side while he worked on.

The divorcee went back to watching, gradually becoming more and more turned on by thoughts about Peter's body. What would it look like naked? Just how well endowed was he? Milly hadn't had a man for many years. Prior to her divorce, she and her husband had slept separately for some time.

Without realising it, a hand had crept up to her breast and was squeezing it and teasing the nipple. She tried to tell herself to stop, but watched helplessly as her other hand slid up under her skirt. Her hand reached the top of her thigh and she fought to stop what was inevitable; her hand slid down under the waistband of her panties and pushed through her damp pubic hair. The touch of her finger on the hardened clitoris was like an electric shock. She gasped and slipped her middle finger further round. Her labia parted and she began slip the digit in and out.

Milly forced her eyes to remain open so that she could keep Peter in sight while she masturbated. She imagined all sorts of things, but in particular him taking her on the bed. Thrusting and plunging rapidly, not stopping, never pausing, keeping going until she finally reached her crescendo.

The woman's knees buckled beneath her and she sank to the floor, where she sat panting.

A long time later, Milly managed to pull herself back to her feet. When she looked out of the window again Peter appeared to be putting the tools away, having finished his work for the day. She took a deep breath in order to compose herself and then began to walk downstairs.

"How has it been going?" she smiled.

"Pretty well. I need to do some more, but I promised my father that I wouldn't be back too late. Can I come again and finish tomorrow?"

"Of course!" Milly tried to calm the excitement in her voice in order to continue, "I'll expect you at ten o'clock."

Peter smiled and walked away. When he arrived home his father asked how the work had gone. He explained that he was going to return the next day to complete his work. When he finished speaking, the young man looked puzzled.

"What's wrong Peter?" he asked.

"She gave me food and drink."

"Oh... What did you do?"

"When she wasn't watching I threw the sandwich and drink away."

"So why does that worry you?"

"She may offer me more tomorrow, but I may not have the opportunity to dispose of it. Do you think that I can eat and drink?"

George saw the problem. He also saw that this opened up a multitude of questions. Assuming that Peter could consume food and liquids, could he digest it? And if so, what happened then?

"Perhaps you could try drinking some water and then see what happens," he suggested. "Then maybe we can progress from there."

Peter looked at the glass of water that his father had fetched from the kitchen. He raised it to his lips and tipped some of the contents into his mouth. He did not have a swallow reflex, so the liquid followed gravity downwards. Nothing more seemed to happen, so he drank some more and continued doing so until the glass was empty.

"Well?" asked his father. Peter looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shrugged.

"I drink, but nothing more seems to happen. The liquid is no longer in my mouth, but it doesn't seem to be inside me either."

George gave Peter a slice of bread. "Try this. You'll need to bite pieces off, chew them and then swallow them."

Unlike walking and talking, eating did not come quite so naturally to Peter. Using his teeth was something that took a number of attempts to get right. It was the side-to-side grinding motion that was the trickiest to master. When it came time to swallow, he simply had no mechanism to help the food go down. George fetched him another glass of water, which he used to help push the food down his (for want of another word) throat.

There did not appear to be any ill-effects to the experiment, so George decided that Peter need not worry what would happen if Milly offered him food and drink again.

*****

Chapter 5

The next day, Peter set off down the lane to Milly's house. He began working as soon as he arrived and didn't pause until he had completed all of the tasks that had been left.

Mrs. Overbury had been watching from an upstairs window again. She realised that Peter had nearly finished, but didn't want him to leave just yet. She struggled desperately to come up with a way to detain him.

Milly opened the door as Peter approached. "You've done a marvellous job Peter. Thank you. I'd better pay you for your work now, won't you come in?"

The young man followed the woman down the passage into the kitchen. She motioned to him to sit down at the wooden table. "I expect you could do with a drink after all of your hard work?"

"That would be nice. Thank you."

She poured him a glass of lemonade and placed it in front of him, then turned to pick up her handbag. She realised what she was doing, but couldn't prevent herself from keeping her legs straight and bending from her waist as she grabbed the handles. She knew that her skirt would rise and that the material would pull tightly across the cheeks of her bum. She had no time to analyse what she was doing, but if she had, she would have had to admit to trying to tease him. When she rose and turned round she was disappointed to see that her actions appeared to have no effect.

Peter sat quietly sipping at his drink as Milly delved into her purse and retrieved some money. She passed it across to him and he took it. He seemed a little puzzled as to what to do with it at first, but then pushed the notes into his trousers pocket.

"Tell me Peter, are you any good at decorating?" she asked.

"I don't know. I've never tried."

"Well, my window frames need a fresh coat of paint and Fred has broken his arm, so he can't do it for me. He usually uses sandpaper to rub them down first and then puts on some gloss. I've got plenty of both. Would you be an angel and do them for me?"

"Yes, OK Milly. I think it would be interesting to learn how to paint."

"Good. But I don't want you to spoil your clothes. Why don't you come upstairs with me and I'll see if I can find some old things for you to wear."

They walked into the master bedroom and Milly asked Peter to take down an old suitcase that was sitting on top of a tall wardrobe. "They're the things my ex-husband left behind. I figure that as he hasn't asked for them he doesn't want them. He wasn't as tall as you, but I think that they should do for decorating."

Milly pulled out a checked, long-sleeved shirt and an old pair of corduroy trousers. She handed them to Peter, who placed them on a chair before removing his boots and socks. He then began to pull his t-shirt off. The woman watched carefully, drinking in the magnificent torso, feeling let down when he donned the loaned shirt. She stopped breathing when the young man unconcernedly began to unfasten his trousers. She was trying not to smirk and give away her pleasure, but when he pushed the garment down around his ankles she discovered that he wasn't wearing any underwear.

If Millicent thought that Peter's upper body was gorgeous, what she saw hanging between his legs, framed by the smoothly powerful thighs, made her mouth go dry, her legs go weak and her panties go suddenly very, very damp. Her face flushed and she turned away to hide her obvious reaction. However, immediately behind her stood the mirrored wardrobe and, having spun round she was now looking at the reflection of an almost naked man. Her libido suddenly exploded beyond her control.

The lust-driven woman turned back round and moved closer to Peter. "My, you are a big boy aren't you?" she said. "Oh God how clichéd was that?" she thought.

"Tell me, do you always go commando?"

Peter stopped in the process of putting one leg into his trousers. He cocked his head to one side and said, "Go commando? I don't understand."

"It's when you walk around without any underwear on. I must admit that from time to time I like to do it, especially when it's a warm day. Do you think it's warm today Peter?"

"Yes, I suppose it might be Milly."

"If that's the case, I suppose that I should really take these off." She reached up under her skirt and tugged her panties down her legs. They were brief and lacy and she held them up to show him, before tossing them onto the bed.

"Would you like me to take anything else off Peter?"

Again, the young man cocked his head on one side and said, "I have wondered what a woman looks like underneath all of those clothes".

"You want me to undress?"

"Yes, if you would like to do so." Peter had let go of his trousers and stood up to watch Milly.

She slowly unbuttoned her blouse, deliberately taking her time in order to arouse Peter. She threw the garment onto the bed, where it lay covering her panties. Her hands then moved round to unfasten her heavily laden bra. One arm held the cups in place as the other removed the straps from her arms. With one hand now on each cup, she swivelled round revealing her bare back and then dangled the bra out to one side with her left hand. It too flew onto the bed.

When Milly turned back, her hands were caressing her breasts, playing with the nipples. They dropped down to her waist and began to unfasten her skirt, which then fell to the floor. She stepped out with one foot and, with a flick of the other sent it flying. She stood with her hands on her hips in a challenging pose. "Well, what do you think Peter?" she asked. To her chagrin, she noticed that there had been no physical reaction to her striptease. The head of his penis still pointed towards the floor.

"Yes," he said. "That was very interesting. Thank you."

Milly was crestfallen. Did he really find her that unattractive? She walked closer to him. Near enough that she could reach out and touch his dick. "Most men react when they see me naked," she told him. "Not that many men have, of course!" she corrected.

"React? How?"

"Well... I would expect this to be standing to attention by now." Peter looked down as Milly held his cock and pointed it upwards. She rubbed up and down its length a few times and then gasped at the rapidity with which it suddenly hardened and became erect -- it was almost supernatural.

"Oh, Peter. I have never, ever seen anything like this before in my life." She dropped down to her knees and used both hands to stroke and caress the shaft and testicles. She had never really liked giving head to her husband (or even her boyfriends before), but suddenly felt the urge to taste the young man. She extended her tongue and flicked it at the base, then ran it all the way up to the tip. The head looked shiny, almost polished and she opened her mouth to take it in. It wouldn't go very far -- it was much too thick and long. It took some time and quite a few attempts before she was able to get as much as the helmet past her lips.

The woman sucked and rubbed for some time while Peter watched. A sheen of sweat had begun to bathe her body. One of her hands dropped down between her legs. Finally, she lifted her head and looked up into his face. "I want you Peter. I want you now," she breathed.

He didn't know or understand what she meant and waited patiently as she rose to her feet and took him by the hand. She led him to the bed, where she encouraged him to climb on it and lay down on his back.

"I'm sure this isn't going to be possible, but I'm damned well going to give it a try." She swung a leg across and straddled Peter's body. Taking hold of the penis, she positioned it at the entrance to her vagina. She knew she was wet and well lubricated, but she was concerned that his girth may make entry impossible. She pressed herself down, moving her body around to try and ease the enlarged head inside.

She was almost at the point of giving in, feeling exhausted by the effort, when her vagina suddenly relaxed and the shaft began its long penetration. Gradually, by gently moving up and down, the phallus moved deeper and deeper inside of her. Part of it was still visible when Milly felt she couldn't take any more. Now she started to slide up and down the length. "Oh Peter, you're so big. You're filling me up."

As she fucked Peter, Milly took hold of his hands and brought them up to her breasts. She demonstrated what she wanted him to do and then let him stroke and pinch the nipples. Perspiration was running down the contours of her body and her face was flushed. Her breathing was becoming rapid and shallow until a sudden gasp signalled the cessation of breathing for as much as twenty seconds, after which the woman, began grunting and moaning as she reached her orgasm.

Milly collapsed down upon Peter's chest and almost passed out. She lay gasping for some time, before she found the energy to be able to lift herself off of him.

Peter, seeing that she was struggling, helped Milly to free herself. His penis relaxed and reduced, almost immediately and made withdrawal very much easier. The woman fell asleep in his arms.

"How interesting," Peter said quietly.

*****

Chapter 6

No decorating was achieved that day. Peter returned home and told his father that he would be returning to Milly's house tomorrow.

"Are you sure you can paint?"

"I don't know. But Milly is happy for me to try."

As Peter once again walked along the road, he noticed a sign pinned to some of the telegraph poles. It was advertising a Circus which was coming to the area. He wasn't sure where it was due to be held, but he decided that it couldn't be far away.

Further along, he saw a man stapling another poster. As he approached, the man turned and greeted him, "Hello young man. It's a fine day isn't it? Will you be going to the Circus? Its very good you know."

Peter looked at the poster, which effectively gave him a good idea as to what a Circus was; animals, acrobats and clowns. "I don't really know. I'll have to ask my father."

Something about the youth had sparked a light deep in the recesses of Joseph Cockcroft's mind. There was something special about this... this being in front of him. Oh yes, he certainly knew that Peter wasn't a normal person. He just wasn't sure exactly what he was yet.

Joe reached into his pocket and pulled something out. "Here," he said. "Have a pair of complimentary tickets. Bring your father along."

"Thank you," said Peter. "That's very kind of you."

The young man walked on along the lane and Joe watched him as he walked. He still wasn't sure what he was seeing, but his instincts were telling him that wood had something to do with it. The showman kept his secret from others; but he was descended from wizards. He used his powers sparingly and usually to make a profit. He left the fortune telling to the old woman who was his mother, but he portrayed himself as a medium and organised séances to contact 'the lost ones' as he put it. His real talent was in being able to take advantage of people. Oh, he could read something in a face and understand so much more than anybody else from a look, or a timid smile. But he could no more talk to the deceased than you or I.

Milly was sitting watching for Peter when she saw him walk around the bend in the road. Yesterday was the experience of a lifetime and, although she was a little sore, she was desperately trying to stop herself from thinking about the possibilities of another such romp on the bed. Yet, so much pleasure did she gain, that she hadn't even noticed that her partner had taken none.