1. 1975


    Date: 3/20/2016, Categories: First Time, Mature, Voyeur, Author: Ijhel, Rating: 90, Source: xHamster

    know as you want some cash for that motorbike of yours.” “Motorbike, what motorbike?” Mum asked sharply. “Oops, was it a secret?” George laughed. “I’m sorry lad, have I dropped you in it now?” “I’ve been saving up for a motorbike” I said. I felt my face redden slightly and this annoyed me more than the look on Mum’s face. “I don’t like them, they’re dangerous” she said. “Ah don’t fret Jane” George said. He looked at me and smiled as if to say, don’t worry lad, I’ll sort this out. “He’s big enough to handle a motorbike now, bigger than I was, and probably stronger too. Besides, a few more months and you can’t stop him. He’ll be man.” A look of something like a mix of pride and annoyance came over Mum’s face. I wondered at how it must feel for her to hear him say that. She was only thirty eight. She wiped her hands on the dish towel and left the room but not before she had remarked over her shoulder. “He’s not a man yet though George. When he is, then he can do as he likes, but until then, no motorbike!” George looked at me with his big red countryside face and shrugged. “It’ll take you that long just to make the money anyway” he chuckled. Even with the memory of his hand upon her, and even with all the conflicting emotions welling up inside me, I couldn’t help but grin. He was still the closest thing to a father I’d ever had, and he had always been in my life. Of course I would help I said, and I did. The next few days we worked hard at moving all manner of old junk out of ...
    the upper storey of George’s stable house. George and Rose lived in a farm house that was situated just across the road from the old church and which belonged to the same era. Next to the house were two buildings which had been added later, but which had stood for more than a century. One was a stable which George had converted to a workshop, and the other was a garage which had room for three cars. Inside this latter building was an old 1927 Citroen which George claimed he would one day renovate but which had stood still for as long as I could remember. George kept it clean and even polished it on occasion. We worked hard for three days and as regular as clockwork Rose brought out lunch for us. We sat in the driveway and ate as we faced the old church. As he had many times before, George talked about the time during the war when a German bomber on its way to or from Liverpool had dropped its bombs on the boat yard and strafed the church yard with machine gun fire. Several of the graves still bore the bullet marks but the bomb craters had long since been filled in. No one had died and it was a comfortable story I had heard many times before. Rose listened with her usual good natured smile, adding the occasional detail. When George had finished his story, she handed me a glass of lemonade. “So I hear you are sweet on the Latham girl” she said. I looked up at her smiling face, surrounded by a halo of greying blonde curls and felt my face going red again. “Young Sarah?” George ...
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