Trenoweth House Ch. 01

Amber checked the other two trunks, before sitting back on her heels. There must be hundreds and hundreds of photo's here, she realised. Maybe thousands. Clearly, she needed some kind of plan if she was ever going to get through them.

By the time Carmen brought her a cup of tea around eleven, she'd started organising the pictures on the wheat-coloured carpet. They were nearly all of women, mostly on their own and she'd created piles for portrait style photo's, 'boudoir-style' photo's and nudes, whilst trying to keep pictures of the same subject together. Although they were faded, the pictures were in surprisingly good condition, the resolution on some better than others as if the photographer had improved his technique over the years.

"Looks like you've made a good start," Carmen said as she placed the mug on the windowsill.

"Thanks. Yes, I hadn't realised how many photo's there were, there must be hundreds here," Amber said, rubbing her knees as she got to her feet.

"Do you think they were all taken by the same person?"

"Hard to say, but they all look to be in the same style. Do you know who might have taken them?"

"Well, we have done a little research into the house. It was owned by a man called Charles Pollard in the early nineteen-hundreds. We bought the house from his grandson, who lives in America now. According to him, Pollard was known to be something on an eccentric, lived on his own here for years although they say he could be quite gregarious and held a lot of parties for his well-to-do friends."

"So you think these might be his pictures? I mean, it would have to be someone wealthy, the early cameras were just too expensive for ordinary folk," Amber said, sweeping her hand around the floor.

"I think he's the best bet. Never married, but I hear he had a lot of mistresses."

"So you think these pictures might be women who were mistresses or friends?"

"I guess that's most likely," Carmen said thoughtfully as she crouched down as examined one of the pictures.

There was a pause as they both looked at the pictures thoughtfully.

"Carmen, you didn't hear any strange noises last night did you?" Amber asked.

"No. I'm quite a deep sleeper, so is Ben. What kind of noise?"

"Oh, a kind of high-pitched wailing noise, in the early hours."

"No, didn't hear a thing."

"Hmm, maybe I dreamt it."

"Well maybe you heard the ghost, the previous owner did say the house might be haunted," Carmen said, grinning as she got to her feet. "I reckon we could charge extra if we're haunted, people love that kind of thing don't they?"

---

By late afternoon, Amber had made more progress but was starting to tire of the endlessly similar black-and-white photographs. She started being distracted by the sounds of the house: the drilling noises and the 'phone ringing downstairs, vans coming and going outside, and more recently the hollow slapping sound of racket thudding against tennis ball.

She stretched as she got up and rubbed her knees. Leaning out of the window, she shielded her eyes against the bright afternoon sunshine as she watched Ben practicing on the tennis court. When she was younger, she'd helped out at the tennis club where her father was chairman, coaching the younger girls. His serve looked pretty good, a nice high ball-toss as he began his swung, a good arch in his spine as he drew his racket around the back of his head in a smooth arc, then leaning into the serve as he connected, his weight on his toes propelling him forward as ball exploded off the tight racket strings and brushed the net before thudding against the court on the other side.

She watched as he repeated the action again and again, the deep olive-green shadow on the Astroturf mirroring his movements, muttering a curse when the ball was caught in the net. It was a pretty good serve, but if she were coaching him she'd advise him to sacrifice a little of the power for more accuracy.

As she watched, she found herself studying more than just his technique. He was tall and broad, his arms and legs bronzed by the Cornish sun, his body lean and muscled from long afternoons on the court. He was wearing a baggy, faded blue t-shirt and a pair of white tennis shorts, and she couldn't help noticing the way they clung to the globes of his taut, muscular buttocks. It must have been very warm on the sheltered suntrap of a court and she watched as he lifted his t-shirt, using to mop the sweat from his brow. She leaned further over the window ledge, feeling a flutter of excitement at the glimpse of his lean torso and solid-looking abdominals, the perspiration on his lightly-tanned skin catching the sunlight.

---

Her concentration broken, she went next door to her room. It was another hot, sticky day and she had a quick shower before lying on her bed in her kimono and reading a book as the rhythmic sounds of Ben practicing eventually faded and stopped. She'd started to doze off when she heard Carmen calling her down for dinner.

She quickly pulled on a light wrap-around skirt and a t-shirt and skipped downstairs, suddenly hungry as the enticing aroma of chicken and white wine casserole drifted up the stairs.

"Ben! Ben!" Carmen shouted as Amber passed her at the foot of the stairs. "Would you mind seeing if he's in his room? Dinner's nearly ready."

"Sure," Amber replied helpfully, turning and skipping back up the stairs.

"Ben? Are you there?" she said, as she knocked lightly on his door. She tried knocking a little harder and felt it give, easing open a few inches.

"Ben?" she repeated, before popping her head round the door.

His room was bigger than hers and quite messy. Books, magazines and assorted items of hiking gear were scattered around and she noticed the shorts and t-shirt she'd seen him wearing earlier, lying limply on the floor. Now she was inside, she could hear the soft murmur of the shower from his en-suite, which would explain why he wasn't answering.

So why were her feet taking her inside now, her eyes taking a good look around his room?

"Ben?" she said as she looked around, although she made sure it wasn't quite loud enough to be heard.

"Now go back downstairs before you're caught snooping around his room," her conscience insisted.

"Perhaps we should just make sure he's definitely in the shower," the wicked part of her mind countered, and she found herself creeping a little closer to the sound. The bathroom door was open and although she knew it was wrong she couldn't resist peering around its edge.

Ben stood in the tall shower cubicle, facing away from her, his hands working a rich white lather into his sandy hair, which looked thicker and darker now it was wet.

"Well, now you've seen him, let's go before he catches us!" good Amber warned.

"What's the hurry? We're not harming anyone," bad Amber countered.

He had a good body for tennis, broad shoulders and long, toned arms. She watched the muscles of his back rippling under his skin as he massaged his scalp, the rich white lather sliding over his firm flesh. His skin was smooth and tanned, his arms, back and legs were golden brown, but with a broad, pale band around his hips. She felt the slow smoulder of arousal as she watched the water sluicing over the firm contours of his body. She wondered what would it feel like to spread the thick white suds over his skin, slide her soapy hands over the sculpted curves of his smooth, hairless chest.

She caught her breath and shrank back, her heart thumping as he turned around. Amber closed her eyes, took a breath then peeked around the door again. She was relieved to see him facing her, but with his face tilted upwards, eyes squeezed shut as he washed the lather from his face, combing his fingers through his wet hair. Her eyes followed the rivulets of soapy water, down over the well-defined slabs of his pectorals, his taut stomach, then lower still.

His cock was nestled in a sparse triangle of sandy curls. It was a good size, uncircumcised and about average length but quite thick. He looked semi-erect and she wondered what he was thinking about. Maybe her? The heat of her arousal increased as she watched it swing thickly between his golden-haired, muscular thighs as he vigorously rubbed his hair. She lingered by the door, feeling the adrenaline rush, enjoying the dangerous thrill of being caught, thinking about all the things he might do if he caught her spying.

"Ben? Amber? Come on, dinner's ready!" came a distant voice from downstairs.

Amber jumped and hid back behind the door, although Ben showed no sign of hearing anything. She quickly retreated from his room, gently pulling the door closed behind her.

"I think he's in the shower," she said, as she took her seat at the table.

"Never mind, he'll join us when he's ready, I guess. Are you okay? You look a little flushed," Carmen said as they watched Tilly ladle a portion of the delicious-looking casserole onto her plate.

"Oh, it's just running up and down the stairs," Amber explained with a nervous laugh. "I suppose I'm a little out-of-shape."

"Perhaps you ought to play a little tennis with Ben. He said he'd love to play with you," Carmen replied.

"Maybe. Mmm, this casserole's delicious," Amber said, desperate to change the subject as she felt her cheeks flush pink at the thought of 'playing' with Ben.

"Yes, well, Tilly has to take the credit. It is really good," Carmen agreed as she poured herself a glass of chilled white wine.

"Thanks," Tilly said modestly, ladling out another plateful as they heard Ben's feet thundering down the stairs.

"Mmm, this smells great," Ben said as he took a seat next to Amber and lightly nudged her in the ribs. "Is it as good as it smells?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could tell his hair was still wet, and she could smell the fresh, citrus fragrance of his shower gel.

"Even better," Amber said, feeling her cheeks burn redder still, unable to meet his slate grey eyes.

---

Amber lay on top of the thin summer duvet, half-asleep, half-listening to the muted drone of the radio. A pleasant-sounding weatherman was telling everyone that the warm weather was due to last for at least another week. He was using phrases like "sustained period of high atmospheric pressure", "warm fronts", "high humidity" and "chance of thunderstorms in the west" but it all amounted to one thing: it was too bloody hot, she thought to herself.

She rolled over, feeling the cotton clinging to the damp skin of her legs as she reached over and took a sip from her glass of water in the darkness. It was so damn hot! She lay back down, surrendering to the heat, feeling her body melt into the bed.

The relentless heat was having an effect on her body. It didn't help that whenever she closed her eyes she saw images of Ben in the shower, the water cascading over his naked body, splashing on his sturdy arms, trickling between the cleft formed by the muscular globes of his tight, pale buttocks. What might he have done if he'd caught her? She imagined him pulling her into the shower with him, her wet clothes clinging to her body as he pressed her back against the tiles and kissed her passionately.

She casually fondled her breasts through her thin nightgown feeling them swell. It had been so long since she'd been touched by a man. Three weeks since that argument with Jeff, she thought as she felt her nipples tingle and stiffen.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an odd yet familiar sound: the same soulful wail that she'd heard the night before. She sat up in bed and looked at the clock. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning. Where on earth was it coming from?

She felt the plush texture of the recently fitted carpet under her bare feet as she left her room, and paused outside her door. The sound was definitely coming from below and she tiptoed carefully down the stairs, one at a time, trying not to make any noise as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She paused again at the bottom of the stairs, holding her breath. To the right was Ben's room, and to the left, Carmen's.

There it was again! She headed left, stealthily approaching Carmen's room, the sound getting a little louder as she hovered uncertainly outside her door. She slowly knelt down, noticing the thin strip of golden light leaking underneath as she pressed her ear against the solid wood. Although muffled, she now recognised it as Carmen's voice.

"No, please, you mustn't! Oh, oh!" she was moaning in a tense, high-pitched parody of her usual voice.

She'd never looked closely at the doors before, but up close Amber saw that it had an old-fashioned brass door handle with a large keyhole. She knew she shouldn't, but like earlier in Ben's room, she couldn't resist and quickly gave into temptation. By moving her head around, she was able to take in the whole scene: Carmen was naked, lying back on the bed, her slender arms stretched above her head, her wrists bound to the headboard with a length of black silk, perhaps a tie or a scarf, which shone darkly as her wrists twisted. The curves of her mature yet trim body were lit by the soft amber glow of the bedside light as she rolled back and forth. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her head thrust back against the pillow, her lovely round breasts swaying as another series of animal-like grunts escaped her plump ruby lips.

A man lay between her wide-open thighs. At first, Amber thought that her husband must have cancelled his trip to London but as Carmen's legs scissored, she was shocked to see it wasn't. Her husband Douglas was broad, square-jawed and fair-haired, but although he was around the same age, the man in Carmen's bed was leaner and slimmer with a swept-back mane of thick, black hair, his dark eyes and sharp features making him look almost demonic in the dim light. She had a fine view of the action as the man pressed Carmen's legs back so that her knees were pressed against her boobs, her feet waving in the air helplessly, her pussy tilted upwards invitingly, the perfect angle for cunnilingus.

He was gorging himself on Carmen's bare pussy, eagerly licking her slick thighs, lapping hungrily at her copious juices. Amber watched him spread the woman's moist folds with his fingers and slowly run his tongue along the length of her slit then tickle her clit with the tip of his tongue causing a fresh series of moans and groans from his captive.

"No, no, please," she wailed, the black silk pulled tight as her wrists strained against her bonds.

Although she kept protesting, Amber could hear the depth of arousal in her throaty moans, and could tell she was close to her peak as she gasped and panted in the humid air. She slid a hand beneath her nightgown, and caressed herself through her panties, sharing some of Carmen's pleasure as the woman bucked and writhed. She didn't have a great view but she could tell from his movements that he'd inserted one or two of his long, slender fingers inside Carmen's clasping pussy and was frigging her roughly as his tongue continued to flick over her clit.

"Please, please," she panted as his movements became rough and jerky, his head bobbing between her thighs, as he relentlessly tongued her pussy and her wavering voice reached a hoarse crescendo.

"Oh, oh, ooooh!" Carmen wailed as she came, her hips arching up off the bed, her breath rushing out in one last, long gasp of pleasure.

After she'd stopped writhing, the man kissed her thighs affectionately then sat back on his heels and chuckled as he regarded her limp body.

"There, bet you feel less stressed now, eh?" he said triumphantly, his dark eyes glinting as he licked his sticky fingers.

"Let me go, you bastard," Carmen hissed weakly.

"Come on now Car', let's not pretend you don't enjoy it," he said, as he got to his feet. His voice had a bit of an accent, and Amber figured he must be a local.

He was lean and slim-hipped, with a dark, neatly-trimmed goatee around his thin lips. Amber held her breath as he hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband of his shorts and smoothly slid them down over his thighs. His cock was thick and hard with a jaunty upward curve, and Amber couldn't help staring at it as he climbed back onto the bed.

"Let me go, Carl," Carmen repeated.

"Come off it Carmen. How long have we known each other? We both know how much you love our little games, you always come like crazy when I tie you up," he insisted as he grasped her, flipping her over so that she was face-down. He lifted her hips so that she was on her knees, her hands still bound to the bed frame, her head resting on the pillow, her face twisted towards Amber in the semi-darkness.

"You're such a bastard," Carmen protested, but allowed him to spread her knees, her pink pussy lips glistening invitingly in the soft light. She moaned as he grasped a handful of her glossy auburn hair and pulled her head back as he pressed his body against hers, nuzzling the pale, smooth skin of her neck.

"And you're such a hot fucking milf," the man whispered, grunting as he smoothly slid his cock between her buttocks, causing them both to moan hotly.

"Oh fuck!" Carmen mewed as he slowly withdrew his cock, now slick with her juices then roughly thrust back into her again causing her to yelp.

"Yeah, if I was Douglas I wouldn't be off in London, I'd be here giving you a bloody good seeing to every night," he said, as he started to fuck her with long, rhythmic strokes.

Outside, Amber knelt on the floor, her hand between her hot, sticky thighs, feverishly stroking herself through the damp cotton of her panties. She fantasized it was her on that bed with Ben. Perhaps he might have caught her spying on him in the shower earlier, and in a fit of passionate anger, thrown her onto his bed, those strong hands tearing at her clothes as she weakly protested, knowing that she deserved everything she was going to get.

She could almost feel his weight pressing between her thighs as their naked bodies slid against each other, his firm chest squashing her boobs, that lovely hard cock sliding along her cleft as they wriggled and twisted, ignoring her protests as his powerful hands pinned her wrists beside her head, his teeth nipping at her neck. Then that lovely thick cock slipping all-too-easily between her slick, welcoming pussy lips. Those strong thighs and muscular buttocks driving his rock-hard cock deep inside her defenceless pussy, fucking her hard and rough as she yelped and squealed, loving every second.

She pressed her face tight against the cool brass of the door handle and watched as the two lovers neared their climax. He was thrusting hard and fast now, a fine sheen of sweat coating their naked bodies, their breath coming in sharp, hard gasps as their bodies slapped together and the bed creaked noisily beneath them.

"Oh, oh, oh!" Carmen squealed breathlessly, her generous breasts swaying between her arms, her voice punctuating each brutal thrust, her voice rising in pitch as he fucked her harder and harder, their moans desperate and hungry.

"Yes, oh God, yes," he grunted as he came, his hips jerking wildly, his head thrown back. Beneath him, Amber could tell Carmen had climaxed too, a low growl of satisfaction escaping her plump lips as they collapsed onto the bed in a hot tangle of limbs.

As she watched the climax of their performance, Amber spread her legs and hooked the wet gusset of her knickers to one side as she feverishly rubbed her pussy, holding her breath, her muscles straining as she got closer and closer then timing it so that she climaxed shortly after them. Despite biting her lip, she couldn't suppress a little yelp of pleasure as she came and a long-awaited wave of euphoria consume her hot, young body.

"What's that?" Carl muttered, glancing towards the door as he untied Carmen.

"I didn't hear anything," she replied as she rubbed her wrists.