Late for the Train -

Mr Myford fingered the small book: Eleanor's diary. He, and Messrs Bowcock, Brent and Cuthbert, had briefly looked into it on the train the day before but had felt it too private to examine carefully. Mr Myford, though, was not with the others, rather on his own on the train -- well, not strictly alone, he was travelling in a carriage with quite a few other people, including a large lady opposite him. He had risen early and caught the train back down the line heading for the 'Unicorn' hotel, as agreed with his colleagues the previous afternoon. He had not stayed late in the bar at the conference hotel the previous evening knowing he needed to set his alarm and arise early. He had not even taken breakfast.

The temptation to read just a little of Eleanor's diary became a little overwhelming. Finally, he drew back the covers of the little book and turned the pages and settled on a fairly recent entry. Whilst at first idly perusing, conscious he was rather intruding, he was quickly more than drawn in:

'My pussy, I don't know what to do with it sometimes. It really is so wet at random times of the day. I was walking (ha, I love doing that -- I can't help myself - can't sit for too long, I have to get up and keep walking in circles in my room), and suddenly felt my hole clenching or something; like I felt like I needed to touch it, and when I did, my hole was sopping. So sopping, it was quite unbelievable. So gooey and wet, my fingers making wet sounds when I merely slid them across my entrance, let alone when I stuck them up my heated hole. And did I! They slipped in so easily!!! I so needed a cock. So surprising to me how wet I tend to get! Out of nowhere! Just going about my day and I get an absolutely sodden little hole. And it just doesn't get satisfied no matter how much I rub or fuck myself with my fingers.

Perhaps I need a bedpost to sit on? My bed too modern for that, alas. That gets me, the thought of sitting my pussy on a bedpost, bringing the mouth of my pussy to that bedpost, all hard, wooden and shiny. Not too big -- no, not too big. Goldilocks like -- 'Just right'! Watch it stretch me open, travel inside me as I squirm and moan and rock my hips against that protruding piece of smooth slippery wood up my hole. My wetness coating the blunt head of the bedpost, watching it pop free when I lift up myself up - or could I even lift up? Won't I get stuck on it? The thought! Unless my feet can find purchase on the bed itself. I'd be dangling, held up by the bedpost in my vagina. Oh, I'm so naughty!"

Mr Myford looked up, his forehead a little damp with perspiration, his face perhaps a little reddened and certainly his penis straining in his trousers. Across from him, the large lady carried on reading her 'Woman's Own' magazine with Sean Connery on the cover, clearly unaware of just how 'sizzling' the small blue notebook was in the gentleman's hand opposite.

The lone gentleman stepped down onto the platform at the station where Eleanor had left the train. A useful map in the station's foyer showed the town centre, its historic buildings and, more importantly for Myford, the main shops and also hotels. The 'Unicorn' was clearly shown and was not far away. It was both historic and an hotel.

The reception desk proved helpful. Mr Myford explained to the receptionist that his niece, Miss Eleanor Andrews, was staying at the hotel and they had arranged to meet for breakfast.

"Ah yes, Miss Andrews, room 28, shall I telephone?"

"No, don't trouble yourself. I'll just go and see if she's ready. She asked me to bring a few things."

All so easy and Myford was climbing the stairs heading for a young lady's room. It was not something he regularly did in hotels. He was sure Eleanor would be pleased to be reunited with her diary. He was also rather hoping she would be sufficiently grateful, or in the mood for another sort of union; one they had engaged in within the first-class railway compartment on the train only the day before.

A knock at the door of room 28 and almost immediately it opened a little way. Clearly the girl was up and about.

"Mr Myford!" The door opened a little wider.

"I brought your diary, you left it on the..."

"What...? Do, do come in."

Myford was delighted to accept the invitation. A goodly sized room, curtains drawn, light on. But what more drew the mature gentleman's eye was the sight of the girl, a mere nineteen years' old, standing there in just some thin silken shorts. Nothing else at all. Eleanor was bare breasted and virtually naked. Delightfully firm breasts and lovely little nipples. Myford more than aware that he had sucked on them whilst fucking the girl when she had been seated on his lap.

From his pocket Myford produced the diary.

"I hadn't realised... did I just leave it on the seat? How stupid of me. I didn't write it up last night. In too late and I just crashed out. I hadn't noticed... So good of you to bring it. I'd have been devastated to have lost it." A pause, "You haven't... you haven't read it?"

Myford was honest, "Just a few paragraphs. I shouldn't have... but it was such captivating reading, and you do have such a good hand."

"It's just my silly girly thoughts, I...."

"Sopping holes and bedposts. Hardly silly," his smile reassuring, "but certainly very girly. I thought it quite charming -- in an erotic way of course. Nothing silly. I, um, very much enjoyed the passages!"

"You've come so early. You must have woken..."

"Maybe, but I'd have anyway -- strange bed and the conference. Bowcock, Brent and Cuthbert needed to be there, but I don't until later and the only chance to get it back to you was to come early whilst you were still at the 'Unicorn' before you caught the train and just disappeared. It's all we knew about you -- the hotel name."

"Mr Myford, so kind, taking the trouble for such a small thing -- to you. Tea?"

So good to be invited to stay for a little while, and pleasingly Eleanor did not cover herself up. So enjoyable to watch the girl moving around in just those shorts, pale yellow silk, moulding her. The shape of her bottom, the thrust of her mons veneris all revealed as she moved.

"I was about to take a bath," Eleanor smiled, "do you have time... would you like to bathe me. I had an uncle... no I still have an uncle. He and auntie used to bathe me when I visited when I was small. Such fun as they had this big, big bath which I was quite lost in. They had this yellow duck and a frog to play with. An old house. A regular thing on visits until one year uncle said something like 'are you ready to go upstairs for your bath, Eleanor', clearly intending it would all be as usual, but Auntie said, 'I think Ellie is a big enough girl now to bath herself.' I was so disappointed. I really was. The next year I'd have been mortified to have had uncle and auntie bathing me. I'd grown up! But now I rather like the idea..." Eleanor's smile so sweet. "Would you like to play 'uncle', Uncle Myford?"

Mr Myford was more than happy to oblige. Sure, too, that Bowcock, Brent and Cuthbert would have been happy to roll their sleeves up and play Uncle Bowcock, Uncle Brent and Uncle Cuthbert. An excess of uncles, perhaps. Far too many hands to bathe little niece Eleanor!

A pity, to an extent, Eleanor was not dressed. 'Uncle' Myford would have been very happy to have undressed her! 'Hands up for marmalade' and all that. As it was, finishing his tea, he got up to run the bath. It would have all been rather more complicated had the room not been 'en-suite', but just with 'hot and cold'. Eleanor had clearly booked a better room at the hotel -- a double with en-suite bathroom. Myford took his coat off and rolled up his sleeves. The prospect of naked Eleanor going all pink in the hot water and him wielding the bar of soap greatly appealed. He was, indeed, turgid in his trousers. There certainly was a smile in his beard.

The water half filling the bath, hot and almost steaming. It was ready. "Eleanor, bath time!" And in she came, 'Uncle' Myford kneeling on the bathmat and waiting. "Ready my dear? Let me just slip those shorts off you. A real joy to reach and slip his fingers under the silk, feel for the elastic and tug, bringing the shorts downwards, revealing tummy button and then into view came a tangle of fair curls with 'niece' Eleanor's feminine slit rather hidden under them. At eye level Myford had a close and intimate view. How they thickened around her slit, how they carried on under her. Moreover, he was close enough, especially when he leaned in closer, to detect her warmth, her scent -- her warm sexual scent coupled with a hint of wee. Invigorating, certainly a tonic to the mature man! A 'pick me up' - it certainly 'perked' Mr Myford.

Silk is so lovely to touch, so, well, silky. Delightful to tug the shorts downwards and let them flutter around Eleanor's ankles and watch her step out of them. A naked, long-legged girl there in the bathroom with him. Myford helped her over the edge of the bath and into the hot water. Maybe her real uncle, all those years ago, had lifted her in, but Eleanor was past that! There was a lot of her now, even if slim and shapely. A bit too much for a rather portly older gentlemen to lift without considerable risk to his back and maybe giving himself a hernia!

"Settle down, now."

"It's too hot." But it was not, really. It was just right once Eleanor got used to it and soon she was settling her bottom down into the water, making the bathwater rise up her body. Archimedes principle of course.

"This is nice, Uncle."

It certainly was. The more so when Myford picked up the soap and began to wash Eleanor, starting with her shoulders and back. Such smooth, unblemished skin. Young perfection. The man enjoyed soaping her back, feeling her backbone under his fingers, rubbing her all the way down to her bottom.

"Lift your arms." Of course it tickled under there. Eleanor giggling and Myford rather over-soaping. Arms, hands and then breasts. They too over-soaped, wonderful mounds to be squeezed, held in the gentleman's hands and generally lathered up before the suds all washed away with the bathwater. Eleanor's nipples now hard. Perhaps not really needing the tweaking but nonetheless that was what was done.

"That is nice, Uncle." So Myford did not hurry on to wash Eleanor's feet or legs but stayed playing with Eleanor's nipples and breasts -- for a time. More giggles when he did come to between her toes and the soles of her feet. Eleanor so ticklish. Had her real uncle and aunt tickled her there all those years ago in the bath?

"Would you like to stand, Eleanor?" Perhaps a little bit more for Myford's benefit, but certainly her standing would make washing between her legs and washing her bottom easier and even feasible. She had been sitting on her bottom after all. Perhaps he could have just asked her to turn over and soaped her soft, feminine bottom like that. Pink, rounded and so smooth. The soap and maybe his fingers could have easily slipped down the crack. Instead, Eleanor stood with water dripping down her. Feet a little apart as her pretend uncle began the soap's journey up from her ankles. Long legs to soap and wash -- two of them to boot! His hands working their way upwards, one shapely patella and then the other, before focusing on the backs of knees. Upwards and, two handed, he encircled such smooth thighs and washed.

Eleanor shaking by the time Myford reached the top of her thighs. Pubis thrust at him as he started to massage the lather into her fair curls, little moaning noises as a finger ran up and down her slit. But rather than dip between her thighs, he turned her around and started soaping up her buttocks. Firm, older male fingers, rubbing and squeezing her full cheeks, really working them, before sliding soapy fingers into her bottom crack. Plenty of attention there -- Eleanor's 'uncle' was being thorough.

She was shivering by the time Myford finished with her bottom. Tapping the inside of her thighs to get her to move her feet wider apart in the bath, he set to between her legs. One hand from the back and one from the front. Soapy hands moving in, fingers touching everywhere. Bathwater lifted to then wash the soap away and so much of the goo that was freely flowing from her. No sponge to hand to do that!

"Please Mr Myford, in me. I'm going to..."

Thick fingers bunched together and stuck into her hole, pushing upwards at her. Finger fucking the girl. Her own hands touching, squeezing and pulling at her still soapy nipples. Vigorous mock penis work with thick male fingers. As firm, perhaps firmer, than an erect penis.

Good to be made to come. Such a pleasing game in the bath. Eleanor with a mock uncle. A fantasy come true perhaps. Maybe for both of them! Myford, with his rolled-up sleeves beaming at her through his beard. Pleased at his work.

"I suppose," she said, "my uncle wants to get in with me."

"Did your real uncle?"

"No." She smiled and shook her head. "Uncle and auntie and me! But I don't see why you shouldn't."

Myford added more water as he went back out into the bedroom to undress. Best not to have his suit on the bathroom floor perhaps getting wet. Such a delight to walk in on Eleanor as naked as she. Not quite an Adonis, indeed well off that; a portly and mature gentleman, his stomach rather preceding him into the bathroom. Hirsute with black curls massed on his chest, his arms and legs similarly hairy. Even considerable hair to his back. Somewhat animal like really. A bit of a beast of a man, almost. Mr Myford could have fitted in very well, without costume or further makeup, as the Woodwose or hairy wildman of the woods in some sort of play, or even film. A sort of dangerous spirit of the forest, pilosus or hairy all over. Often portrayed with a club. Mr Myford certainly had that as he came into the bathroom. Not quite as expected on the stage. Not so much brandished above his head as sticking out of his pubic thicket. His penis extended and upright poking out from his thicket. Short, not the long 'club' possessed by some men; short yet thick, a substantial diameter or circumference to it, complete with prominent -- oversailing -- knob to its end, purple and businesslike. Certainly, it might well have frightened the young ladies looking up from the stalls in the theatre!

It did not frighten Eleanor. She had handled, sucked and, indeed, fucked it before. She was more than happy to see it again poking over the edge of the bath. It needed to be handled once again.

Not too much of a squash, albeit a pleasant one. Eleanor and a much older gentleman in the bath together. The water rising much further with Mr Myford settling himself down facing Eleanor. It was her turn to use the soap. The young niece and the lucky uncle. What a delight for him to have Eleanor's hands roaming across his body with the soap. Of course, when she got him to stand and she knelt in the water to wash his rather substantial 'cannon' it was just so at mouth height. Convenient indeed. She could not resist slipping her lips over the swollen purple plum, as her soapy hands manipulated his balls and then moved to slipping between his legs and reaching around to his bottom. Convenient, and exactly what Mr Myford wanted.

Eleanor did not receive a mouthful, though she came pretty close. Rather, they stepped from the bath and dried each other with towels before Mr Myford accepted Eleanor Andrews' invitation to join her between the sheets of her bed. A delightful naked intimacy. Hairy, portly and, indeed, weighty Mr Myford right on top of her. She holding his body between her spread thighs -- well spread for him. Eleanor certainly knowing, if she did not before, what it felt like to have a man on top of her; her little entrance so stretched out around his penis, shaping her inside. His mouth on hers, her tongue in his mouth, both pairs of hands clasping and feeling. As in the railway train's compartment, semen passed between them. Safe, no longer fertile semen. Mr Myford's one daughter and two boys were evidence that he had been fertile once upon a time. It was perhaps just as well he was no longer.

"My colleagues wondered..." remarked Mr Myford still with Eleanor in her bed, his arms around her and his now soft penis wet against her skin, "I don't know if you have to travel back to London today, but if not, perhaps you could join us for dinner?"

Eleanor sucked in her lips, "I... I don't need to travel back, I've an open return... in case." The 'in case' was not if she happened to meet some mature gentlemen wishing to take her out for dinner and... She was not naïve to think there would be no more than dinner involved with the gentlemen, but she had bought the open return in case, just in case, a certain young man who would be at the wedding had suggested something or other. That had not at all proved the case. Quite clear he had suggested 'something or other' to another girl at the wedding and been taken up on that. A disappointment to her, though she had not at all seen it as 'in the bag'. Eleanor's love life had not proceeded as planned. However, 'make do and mend', 'make the best of it', or, 'every cloud has a silver lining'! Eleanor liked going out to dinner and she was not averse to renewing her acquaintance with Messrs Bowcock, Brent, Cuthbert and Myford; and their various and varied penises. It would be fun.

"Where would I sleep?"

"I do have a twin-bedded room."

Eleanor thought the others might well have double beds. It would be interesting to see where she ended up. Quite possible she might find herself in more than one bed.

"That's all right then!"

Slightly awkward sneaking Eleanor into the conference hotel particularly with her suitcase. But was there anything too remarkable in a rather crowded hotel lobby, of a young lady with suitcase? Perhaps her not stopping at reception but just going to the lift and taking it to the fifth floor might have been remarked upon but the conference delegates more interested in going to the bar than watching new arrivals. Her casual confidence not drawing attention to her, even from the reception staff. An agreed time of meeting. Mr Myford waiting for a knock at his hotel room door. The afternoon's conference business over, the time 6.30pm.

Eleanor's turn to enter a hotel room and for Mr Myford to offer tea. Perhaps Eleanor's turn to play 'Auntie' and bathe 'young' Edward Myford. But Myford had already bathed ready for dinner. He had not been planning on pre-prandial sexual activity. He was rather hoping for later activity -- and it was, after all, perhaps really Bowcock, Brent, and Cuthbert's turn first. And dinner beckoned. A time to meet the others already set.

The yellow frock brought out again as suitable for dinner. A pleasure for Myford to watch the undressing and redressing again -- like in the railway carriage's compartment, Eleanor down to her underwear.

"Knickers or no knickers for dinner? What's the drill?"

"Oh, no knickers I think!" He would have to tell the others. They would like knowing Eleanor was knickerless beneath her frock. It would please. He certainly liked seeing them come off. Eleanor in just her brassiere before putting on suspender belt and stockings. A more than pleasurable sight right there in his hotel room. His stubby penis rigid in his trousers as Eleanor rolled first one stocking and then the other up her long legs. What a delight there in his room. But, of course there was the thought, what would Margaret and his daughter think!

The dinner was good, not taken at the conference hotel but at a restaurant a taxi ride away.

A table for five. Eleanor between Mr Cuthbert and Mr Brent, the two either side of her. Good conversation. It was after the first course that Mr Myford casually mentioned Eleanor's lack of knickers. "I'd meant to say earlier, but there was not really the opportunity. Young Eleanor here hasn't any knickers on. She thought that might interest you."