It began as one of those rainy Devon days where one only wished to remain in bed. While the rest of the house snored and stirred, only the servants were up and about ...well only the servants and young Harry Cory. He'd been up since half past seven and was already dressed, hoping the rain would subside long enough for him to go out and take a few swipes with the butterfly net or possibly do a bit of shooting with the dogs. It was not to be, however.
The rain poured down with stiff British determination that made bones ache just to look at it and think thoughts of hot meals in bed or more time under the covers. Mummy Nature could be a cruel disappointing bitch when she saw fit to be so. She could also be a bit grey and damp.
Harry lived with his Mummy Edwina his older sister Bethany, or "Bess", and his Grand Mah-mah, Rebecca, in a rather comfortable house. It was a lovely old home and it was said that for such a nice abode; Edwina must have been somewhat of a levitation artist because the woman had "no visible means of support" to justify where they lived. Truth be told, the house and Mummy's stipend of income was the result of an "agreement" of sorts.
The agreement had been with Sir William Henry Sedgewick. He was the same Sir William Sedgewick of Cornwall fame by whom Edwina had once been employed; serving as a governess in Sedgewick Manor to the family children following a brief career on the stage as an actress. Mr Sedgewick's roving eye eventually settled on Edwina and she soon found herself pregnant with Bess. Edwina was let go from the house but despite the fact that she was no longer employed as a governess; she was retained as Mr Sedgewick's mistress. Her life could not have become more comfortable as a result.
Sir William set her up in the house in Devon, far away from Cornwall with a generous annual stipend. Money was no object to the lecherous old robber baron. Within less than a year of the birth of Bethany, Harry arrived on the scene. Apparently William had gone for another drink from Edwina's fountain of youth and the resulting hangover was Harry.
As a youngster, Harry knew his father; seeing Sir William often enough at birthdays and holidays but as he grew older, he saw daddy far less and less. This was due in part because the old philanderer was quite busy; both expanding his vast holdings of coal and tin, and expanding his vast number of illegitimate children through his many mistresses, (who more often than not had been employees at Sedgewick Manor).
Edwina was comfortable. She had family nearby, she had money, and a house for as long as she lived. She'd brought her mother, an old German jewess to the home a few years before so as to have her mother near her in her autumn years.
Despite being a mistress she'd quite a number of social connections, (and her reputation had not suffered in the least from the scandal of two children born out of wedlock). It was simply amazing what a bit of money scattered around like hay in a barn could do to get people to hold their tongues. Most of all; the money bought the silence of Edwina, (whose stipend looked like a king's ransom even among some
well-to-do
circles)!
Yes, Edwina had it all. Well; if one were to be more precise -she had everything except a man. There layeth the rub, (quite literally so).
This absence of male companionship, shall we say; became increasingly problematic over time for the poor woman. It tormented her with a longing ache and a certain "emptiness", that was spiritual, physical,
and geometrical.
A vexing tension whittled away at her nerves and many was the times the eighteen-year-old Harry heard the distressed whisperings and whimpers coming from mummy's bedroom.
On one occasion as he passed by mummy's boudoir on the way to the loo the noises coming from inside were considerable indeed. The door was slightly ajar and he crooked his head slightly so as to peer with one eye inside the dim room. He was met with a cold shock.
There was mummy, lying atop her bed; a candle on the dresser next her being the only light in the room. Edwina was naked except for her stockings; her hands down at her sex, rubbing and clawing frantically at her dark thatch-work as she heaved hips up against her own busy fingers. Her breathing was heavy and distressed; almost asthmatic as she hoarsely whispered,
"Oh yes...YES RIGHT THERE! You know how I like it! It is sooo...bad!"
Harry reasoned that she must be asleep; as he saw that both her eyes were screwed tightly shut. They remained closed as she brought her fingers up to her mouth; sucking them clean as if they'd been sweeties from the fair! One hand returned to her sex whilst the other tweaked upon her bubbies; first one, then the other, until both became hard as iron rivets.
Harry thought it best to scurry off to the loo quietly and not wake her. When he returned, he found her door closed. He tip-toed silently past the door but as he did, he heard more of mummy's tortured whimpers and moans. She was obviously having a fitful night's sleep!
When he returned to his bed, he found he'd another problem more urgent than any trip to the loo. His tadger was stiff as a fine for public intoxication and contributing to the delinquency of a farm animal on a Sunday. He did the foul thing that he always did when troubles of this sort arose. He knew it to be sinful and wrong but he needed to go to sleep and well; he was supremely bothered by the vision of his mother thrashing about on her bed. In the end he took the problem "well in hand" just as always, but all the randy thoughts he'd used in the past paled in comparison to the mental tintype photos stuck in his head of dear Mummy; pawing at her sex in her sleep. He did the shameful act in her honor and fell into a most blissful slumber;
careful to keep to the other side of the mattress until things dried!
There were more "incidents" over the next few weeks. This was partially due to Edwina being rather adept at noticing...
things.
For example; Edwina noticed Harry had grown quite tall, (strapping and robust for a lad his age). She'd noticed his cheekbones; high and handsome like those of his blade of a father. She's noticed his hair, his smell, and his clear skin. She'd also noticed he was having more and more of those troubling erections;
something that she noticed with interest most keen.
She seemed to have the most awful luck at accidently walking into his room when he was changing. She also the bloody longest time putting away whatever it was that happened to be in her hands whenever she came in. Harry wondered why she simply didn't have the maid put things away later. Mummy was being so terribly odd and intrusive in his honest opinion, (but he kept such sentiments to himself).
In one week she'd managed to barge in on his bath with him in it no less than four times "by accident," (much to his shock and embarrassment). Although she made plausible excuses to her son, she did so with quite a bit of leering and staring down at things in the soapy depths of the tub. She'd even caught a glimpse of his pego on two occasions and imprinted the images into her mind as if they were stamped into wet clay. Its seems she then retrieved those images late at night in her bedroom, (resulting in more thrashing of her mattress against the bedsprings).
It is important to note that by now Harry didn't notice any of these disturbing noises made by his tormented mummy in her bedchamber; he was far too busy. His hobbies you see; may have involved butterflies, hunting, and stamp collecting by day, but at night he had a hobby that was altogether separate, (once the lights went out). It seems dear readers, he couldn't hear Mummy's vigorous WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! as he was engaged in WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! s of his own creation.
