Claire

It was a cold day in February. The weatherman had promised cold and a possibility of snow in the night, and Richard White (or Rick, as his friends called him) had gone to his grandparents' village for the day. He didn't want to be caught in a snowstorm, if there was going to be any snow, so he'd left the car at home and caught the early train. Then he took a local bus, and when he arrived it was still morning. He went to the local pub for lunch first and then he took in the sights of the village. He visited the church, and found his grandparents' graves in the churchyard, and he quite enjoyed himself notwithstanding the cold. It actually grew colder as the day progressed; when he arrived the village pond had still been open but now there was a thin, smooth layer of ice on top.

Rick had retired from work a few months earlier; an old aunt of his had left him enough money to make do with the pension he would get, and he'd considered that it would be alright to call it a day. There were heaps of things he had not been able to do while his wife was still alive, and he didn't want to wait until he was too old. Visiting the places connected with his family's history was one of those, and it felt good to be walking there.

He went back to the pub for a drink. The village was rather remote -- it was one of those one bus there, one bus back places and he did not want to miss it, so he leisurely made his way back to the bus stop at an early moment.

The route took him down to the village pond first. There were no people to be seen; he supposed everyone had gone in for the cold. He'd almost rounded one half of the pond when he heard someone shout, and a wheelchair came crashing though a dry hedge. It narrowly missed hitting him and went straight into the pond, rider and all. He heard the ice crack and most of the contraption disappeared under water.

Rick didn't hesitate for a moment; he threw off his coat and ran into the pond. The cold hit him like a sledgehammer, and he tripped over something someone must have thrown in one time or other. Lovely, he thought. Just what I needed. Wet through, he waded through the muddy pond; stirred by his feet the water sent up an unpleasant smell. It took him quite some time and effort to extract the wheelchair from the mud; its rider sat mumbling and didn't really cooperate.

Meanwhile the bus had dropped a couple of people at the local bus stop and driven on. One of the passengers witnessed the second part of his efforts. She looked at it in disbelief at first. It couldn't old Mr O'Brien again? But it was.

When Rick finally reached dry ground again he took his coat and put it round the man's shoulders. Then he was hailed by the woman, who had stood watching the procedure.

"I'll show you where to take him," she said, "Mr O'Brien's generally too vague to do so himself."

They walked up the road together and after a short while she said, "Here it is."

She walked up to the front door to knock, but the door was thrown open before she had reached it, and a middle-aged woman came out. "You old fool!" she shouted at the old man. She took the wheelchair from Rick's hands, unceremoniously dumped Rick's coat on the frozen path, wheeled Mr O'Brien inside without another word and slammed the door to.

The woman indignantly looked at her vanishing form.

"There's gratitude for you," she said. "That's his daughter-in-law. Are you new here?"

"I was only round for the day," Rick said. He had difficulty keeping his jaws steady; his wet clothes seemed to be getting stiff. "B-b-but I'm afraid I've m-missed my bus. Is there a p-p-place -" His teeth were chattering with cold.

"You come with me," she said. "We're not all of us beastly in this village."

She led him along as fast as he could go. "It's only a quarter mile," she said. "Can you manage?"

He nodded.

At her place she opened the door of the porch and pushed him inside. "My," she said, "you don't half smell! Ok, then, could you leave those clothes here? I will go and run the bath."

When she returned Rick was still struggling with his buttons.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, but -"

"Oh dear," she said. "Let me do it."

It took her some time, too, as the temperature in the porch wasn't any better than the one outside, but she managed to help him out of his clothes, which were left in a smelly heap on the tiles of the porch.

"Ok," she said, "off to the bath with you. I can't have you die of hypothermia on me. Lord, look at hose tiles. It's a good thing I've got a downstairs bathroom."

She led him on to the bathroom and helped him get in the bath. She looked at him with some interest. "My," she said. "My husband used to be small, but you..."

"That's nature's defence mechanisms," he tried to say, but she didn't quite get it.

"Hush now," she said. "I'm going to wash you. That's a long time ago..."

She remembered washing her children with a smile.

She washed every part of him. He had been covered in mud and the smell of the stagnant pond water was all over him. He was too cold to really enjoy it; even when she pushed back his foreskin and washed his private parts it didn't make an impact. But he truly appreciated her efforts, and he liked her face. She had soft grey eyes and a lovely smile.

"Will you be alright for a moment?" she said. "I'd like to sort out your clothes."

"Yes, I will," he said.

She went back to the porch and surveyed the wreckage. His winter coat was covered in green slime and algae inside. She emptied the pockets and put the contents aside. Then she went through his trousers and his jacket, and put the items she could wash into the washing machine.

Then she collected some pieces of clothing and returned to the bathroom. She went in to find her charge had recuperated a little.

"Good," she said. "Getting a little warmer?"

"Yes, thank you," he said. "My name's Rick, Rick White. My grandparents used to live here."

"Oh," she said. "Old Maynard White, he was? I remember him well. Nice man."

"Yes," Rick said. "That's him."

"I'm Claire," she said. "Er, I've just put some of your things in the washing machine, but I would ruin your jacket and your coat. I'll have to take them to the dry cleaners, and I'm afraid you'll be stuck with me for a little time. And what's more -" she hesitated for a moment - "I am rather smaller than you, and I have no men's clothes lying about. So I've selected my roomiest panties and a big cardigan for you, and a pair of tights -- I hope you don't mind."

"I could wrap myself in a blanket, too" Rick suggested.

"And go naked under that? I don't think so," she said. "Oh, and are there any people that have to be told?"

"No," Rick said. "There's no one there."

She looked at the ring on his hand. "You're a widower?" she said.

"Yes," he said. "My wife died of a congenital heart disease."

She nodded. "I'll leave you to get dressed," she said, and put the clothes and a towel on the edge of the washbasin.

Rick got out of the bath and thoroughly dried himself. Then he looked at the clothes with a frown on his face. The cardigan seemed ok. The panties were big enough, too -- but they were very thin and completely diaphanous. And the tights -- he wasn't quite sure if they would fit. He put on the cardigan first. It was a thick, woollen one and it felt very uncomfortable against his bare skin. He wiggled his shoulders inside but it didn't diminish the feeling. Then he put on the panties. There was a tall mirror on one wall and he saw himself in very feminine pink underwear. It made him feel a little uncomfortable -- he wasn't quite sure if he really disliked the experience as much as he was trying to tell himself. The tights were quite simply too small. He pulled down the cardigan, which came just about to the bottom of his buttocks, and opened the bathroom door on bare feet.

Claire met him in the hall. "Comfortable?" she said.

"Well," Rick said, "The tights you gave me do not fit, and the cardigan is terribly itchy. I er..."

"Oh dear," Claire giggled. "And they're my largest pair, really. We'll have to try and get you into some stockings, then."

"Er," Rick said, "don't bother, you know. I'll be alright."

"No you won't," she said earnestly. "I'll be right back."

She returned with some more pieces of clothing.

"Now you put this on under that cardigan," she said, "and then I'll help you with the stockings. I'm afraid I've got nothing big enough with sleeves, but it will at least keep your back and chest from touching the wool."

She handed him the top of the baby doll whose bottom he was already wearing. Rick took it from her and turned around to keep up proprieties -- but then he faced the mirror and he realised that Claire could see everything anyway. Oh well, he thought, it'll only be for a day.

He took of the cardigan and put on the baby doll top. To his embarrassment it made his penis stir a little -- the feeling was actually quite pleasant. He quickly put on the cardigan again.

"Good," Claire said with a little smile. "Better?"

"Yes," he said. "This doesn't itch." It definitely didn't, but he'd be damned if he admitted he liked the feeling.

"Right," she said. "Now if you sit down on the edge of the bath..."

He did so. The cardigan hid his private parts from sight, to his relief.

Claire knelt in front of him and told him to lift a foot. Then she put his toes into a rolled-up stocking and deftly unrolled it up his leg. "Other foot, please," she said.

Rick felt rather confused. He hoped the cardigan would stay in place, because he found the treatment wildly stimulating. Claire was certainly attractive, and he loved being touched by her.

She looked at his face. With impish delight she saw that some beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead.

"Well then," she said, "please get up again. I'll make sure they won't sag and trip you up. Turn around, please."

When Rick stood with his back to her she lifted the cardigan and the baby doll and put a garter belt round his waist. She noticed he was half erect, and not quite as small at all as she had thought at first. She fastened the hooks at the back.

"This is not too tight?" she asked.

Rick didn't know what to say.

"Good," Claire said. She bent down and fastened the clasps to the stocking tops. He looked at her and noticed that he could look down the neck of her sweater to the top of her breasts. She seemed to be wearing a red bra. Blushing, he averted his eyes.

"I'll put you into the living room," she said, "and I'll see about dinner. I didn't think I'd have visitors, but I believe I've got some pizzas in the freezer."

She took him into the living room. He looked round and saw a room that was obviously loved by its inhabitant, pleasant, well kept and cosy, with a well-stocked bookcase and a stereo in a corner.

"You've got a very nice room here," he said appreciatively, glad the intimate atmosphere of the bathroom was not so evident there.

"Thank you," she said. "Oh dear, it's started to snow. With a little bad luck we'll get snowed up, too."

"I'm very sorry," Rick said. "I didn't intend to be a nuisance."

"Oh, nonsense," Claire said. "You're not. I don't mind having a human voice around for once in a while."

She left the room. After some time she returned with a bottle of wine, an opener and two glasses.

"Can you pour us some wine, please?" she said.

Rick got up and walked to the table a little self-consciously. He felt the garter straps move against his legs and the material of the underwear against his body at every step, and he hoped Claire would not be looking at him.

He stood with his back to her as he uncorked the bottle. Claire noticed the cardigan lifted enough to grant her a peek at his bottom. She grinned appreciatively.

He walked back and handed her a glass; then he lifted his own and said, "Thank you for putting me up."

Claire looked at him and said, "It would be a nasty world if everybody were like Mr O'Brien's daughter-in-law. I'm happy you didn't leave him to drown and I'm glad I was there to help you out. Cheers!" She bent down for a moment and saw that Rick glanced at her cleavage. Then he saw that she noticed and blushed.

Rick sat down in a chair opposite Claire and they sat talking amicably about the village and their respective youths. Then Claire looked at her watch and said, "We'd better go to the kitchen and have us some dinner."

They walked to the kitchen, Rick still a little stiffly as he felt somewhat uncomfortable because of his apparel.

When they were in the kitchen Claire asked, "Are you still cold?"

"No," Rick said. "I'm fine. Why?"

"You walk as if you were," Claire said smugly.

"Er, no," Rick said. "I er, it's these clothes, really. I feel a bit - well -- I don't know."

"Did you never look at your wife's underwear?" Claire asked.

"Yes of course," Rick answered, "but I didn't wear it!"

Claire shrugged. "I really love wearing nice underwear," she said. "It makes me feel good, and I loved to see the effect it had on my husband. Your wife did, I suppose?"

"I don't know," Rick said. "We never really talked about it."

She shrugged again. "Dinner," she said. "I'll put the food on the table. Oh, and we've forgotten the wine. Be a dear, please, and get it."

Rick returned to the living room. He did his best to forget the disturbing feelings and walk normal, and he decided that he didn't really mind the feeling for just once. Claire probably wouldn't hold it against him, and if no one asked he wouldn't tell.

"Look, that's better," she said. "You don't look as if you swallowed a stick, now."

They had a comfortable meal, and then some coffee, and then Claire said, "Will you dry the dishes, please?"

When Rick had finished drying the plates she said, "They go up there, in the top cupboard."

Rick opened the door of the cupboard over the sink and lifted the plates to put them away.

"Ooh, sexy!" Claire said teasingly when the cardigan rose well over his buttocks as he lifted the plates.

"Don't you tease me too much, young lady," Rick said, echoing her mood.

"Is that a threat?" Claire said. She stepped behind him and pressed her hips against his bum, and she put her arms around him she sank one hand into his panties and slid the other up his chest.

"Come on," she said. "I think you're nice, and I'm glad you're here, and I want to fuck you."

She wasn't quite certain how he would react -- but to her joy he turned his head and tried to find her lips, blushing fiercely. She opened her mouth and sucked in his tongue while she felt his erection. It definitely was not as small as she had seen that afternoon; it seemed a few inches larger than her late husband's -- he'd really been rather small. She hadn't minded; their lovemaking had always been perfect. But she did enjoy feeling him up for all that.

"That's what you get for looking at my breasts," she said.

"I only saw their tops," he complained.

She released her hold on him just enough to allow him to turn around. With a broad grin she put up her lips to be kissed again. Rick lifted her sweater and pinched a nipple, and Claire ran a hand through the crack of his bottom and tickled his anus. He shivered.

"Come," she said, "let's find a better place. It's nice and warm in the living room."

They hurried back to the living room and locked themselves in each other's arms again.

"I'd love to get your clothes off," Rick said. "I haven't seen you naked yet."

Claire smiled and put up her arms. Rick took the hem of her sweater and lifted it over her head. He put it on a chair and stepped back to look at her. She wore a little red bra with diaphanous cups that came only to just over her nipples. It had seams running from the bottom of her breasts to the top of the cups and he thought it was extremely sexy.

"Wow," he said. "You are beautiful. I can see why your husband loved to look at you!"

Then he unzipped her jeans and shoved them down her legs. She wore a matching pair of panties. He pushed them down as well.

"I'm sorry I'm not wearing any stockings today," she said. "But they get ruined under trousers."

Then she unbuttoned Rick's cardigan and he let it slide off his arms.

"You'd better take that other thing off, too," she said. "It might get damaged."

Rick couldn't see the fastening, which was just below his chin, so she had to help him out. Then she looked at him with a naughty gleam in her eyes.

"You look truly good enough to eat," she said teasingly. "I love the sight of your cock in my panties."

She knelt down in front of him and looked at his cock that stood straight in her sexiest bedroom wear, and sucked it in her mouth through the thin nylon. She unclasped the garter straps and slid the panties down his legs and then she redid the straps again.

"I'd like to know how it feels when my partner is in stockings," she said. "Do you mind?"

"No, I don't," he said. "Not any more. Let me lie down, and then you can sit on top of me. I want to taste your pussy!"

He stretched out on the carpet and Claire lowered herself over his face. Then she unclasped her bra and flung it aside. She bent down, rubbed her breasts against his abdomen and took his cock in her mouth. She tickled his belly under the garter belt and stroked his legs. For a moment she wished she were a cat; she felt like purring. And then she grinned round his cock -- two fairly staid, middle-aged people going at each other for dear life. But it was wonderful to have someone there again. Maybe --

Rick loved her taste. Her labia were fairly dark, and the inside of her pussy shone like rubies, he thought. "Your pussy is beautiful, too," he said and then he put the point of his tongue back between the labia, right where it belonged, he thought. Hmm, nice.

Claire slowly rolled her tongue around the head of his cock. He smelled pleasant, she thought, and she thought with a shudder of the way he'd smelled after the dip in the pond. She wished she'd perfumed her pubic hair, but maybe he liked her better the natural way? She'd have to ask -- and then she felt with a pang of regret that she didn't know if she ever would. But she went back to the task on hand and put tomorrow off her mind.

Rick found her clitoris and worked on it insistently. Claire shuddered a little, and then she rose. "I want to fuck you good and hard now," she said. "Come along to my bedroom."

They went straight upstairs and Claire said, "I want you on top of me -- I want to feel your legs against mine!"

Rick smiled and lifted her bottom. He let her legs fall open and entered her in one slow push. She was soaking wet by then, and when he started to rock they produced a wet slapping sound that was music to their ears. He kissed her lips, and Claire said, "You really feel different -- You're not so small at all."

"It was just the cold," Rick panted.

"Ow!" Claire said as his cock touched her cervix. "Easy!"

"I didn't hurt you?" Rick asked.

"No," she said, "but I've never felt that before. Er, John was a good four inches, you know."

She kissed him again and he slowed down a little, trying to keep from hurting her.

Claire ran her legs against his. Hmm, she thought, so that's why men like it. She could feel a few hairs stick through the nylon. Maybe I can get him to shave, she thought. Then she pulled him against her and kissed him and held him fast. She came in a shudder. She found to her dismay there were tears on her face and she saw Rick look at them -- and then he bent down to her and kissed them off.

"You're a strange girl," he whispered, "and I'm not sure why you're crying, but I like to kiss your tears away." He smiled a little at her. "They taste good," he added with a grin.

"Oh," she said. "You see -- if it weren't for the snow and your clothes being dirty, would you stay till morning?"