Was Down Under Now Up Over

Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.

All email comments good or critical welcomed. Rude or abusive emails may result in blocking. Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat, and the ass is a bum or arse.

I apologise for any typo errors in my story - I edit these myself, and I'm not perfect...

My Uncle Kurtis was coming to England. He had been living in Australia for the past twenty odd years, but now, due to his declining health, the Australian Government had cancelled his visa and he had to sell up and come back to England. His health concerns were completely manageable, type 2 diabetes, but that was enough for the Australian Government to send him back.

I had been divorced now for three years, my husband Barry had decided that the grass was greener after the children had left home, and had rather stupidly shagged the neighbour Astrid. Her husband Geoff caught them red handed, or is that wet cocked, and all hell broke loose. The neighbours husband threw her out, and I followed by chucking Barry out.

Barry and Astrid had rented a house together for a while, but it hadn't lasted, one of them cheated on the other, I hadn't been interested enough to find out which, and they split up. Barry had contacted me telling me it was a mistake and he would like us to try again. I waved the Decree Absolute in his face and told him to sod off.

Anyway, that meant that I had a spare room in my house, and I had offered it to Uncle Kurtis as a first port of call whilst he found his bearings. He had shipped most of his belongings to my house and they were filling my garage. I was expecting him to arrive at Manchester airport at three fifteen. I was going to drive to Manchester and park up nearby, and then when he had his luggage, he would text me, and I would pick him up in the pick-up zone.

I was parked in a Tesco car park, not far from the airport, only about fifteen minutes, just watching people as they drove around the car park, wheeled their shopping through the car park, and in some cases just whizzed around on those little scooters that so many love. There was a couple who had obviously had an argument, Lord knows what about, but they looked as if they would cheerfully kill each other.

There was another couple who could hardly keep their hands of each other, I wondered if they would have a little something in the car, but no, they didn't get into the back seat, and the front seats of modern cars have the big console in between them, so no chance of any 'contact'. Mostly it was people transferring shopping from trolley to the boot.

I was classifying people as single or married by the contents of their shopping, and I was pretty sure I got most of them correct. I know when I went shopping I never bought large packs of anything, and pretty much always bought on a day by day basis, and I judged others as single by my own habits and actions.

I hadn't found anyone else after I threw Barry out. At first the betrayal hurt too much, and then, well frankly, I couldn't be bothered with the hassle. I hadn't even bought myself a vibrator, I just shut that part of my life down, I simply existed, went to work, came home, did laundry, cooked food, loaded the dishwasher, sat in the conservatory, that sort of life. Existence, day by day existence.

Kurtis coming to stay would change things a bit, he was on his own and I kind of assumed that he would have evolved as I had, existing day to day. Probably the decision of the Australians to throw him out would have hurt a bit, but he may have just shrugged it off. As I recalled he was a bit of a laid-back guy, although I hadn't seen him for over twenty years. I wondered if life down under had changed him at all.

I was wearing a loose top and a mid length skirt. I had told Kurtis what car I was driving, and only hoped that they sold the same car in Oz, otherwise he wouldn't recognise it. I was pretty sure I would recognise Kurtis, even after all this time, he had looked much the same when we face timed a couple of days ago just to confirm up the final details.

The text came through and I headed off, and as was always the case all the traffic lights changed to red as I approached them. Oh well, it wasn't raining, Kurtis would just have to wait if I was late. If I had got there too early and over stayed my 10 minutes allowed pick up time, the cost would have been ridiculous.

I pulled into the pick up zone and there he was. Unmistakable. I pulled up next to him and got out of the car.

"Kurtis" I said as I embraced him, "let's just chuck your cases on the back seat, there should be room."

"That be right," he said, hefting his two suitcases in and then shutting the door. He got in the passenger seat and after I had queued at the pay kiosk and waved my debit car, the barrier rose and we were off. There was small talk on the way home mostly about the flight, his lay over in Dubai, and the awful plane food, and then we were off the motorway and heading through the traffic of Bradford to Bingley where I lived.

"Jill," he said, "I'm fair starving, any chance, if you haven't arranged something, that we could get some fish and chips?"

As it happened, I had thought I would heat up a couple of frozen pizzas, but they could stay in the freezer, no issues there. "Of course Kurtis, I know just the place not far from home, I'll stop off there."

There was a space just outside the chippie, and I pulled up. "My treat," he said, "I changed the last of my dollars at the airport. What do you want?"

"Oh, okay, yes, fish chips and curry sauce for me," I said and watched as he hopped out and went into the chippie. I knew that there would be a bit of a wait as they always cooked the food fresh, and it was, fifteen minutes before he reappeared with a carrier bag full of our tea.

Back home I showed him his room, he had taken one suitcase up, the other stayed at the bottom of the stairs, he would take it up after tea he said. In the kitchen I opened the carrier bag and took out the food. Fish chips and curry sauce for me, and for him there was fish, chips, mushy peas, battered sausage and a fish cake. Either he was sampling a lot or he was really hungry.

"Lap or table?" I asked.

"Lap'd be right," he said, so I got a couple of plates out and dished the food, his looking a veritable mountain. Knife and fork each and we headed into the lounge and sat on the sofa. To be fair, I have a smallish sofa, there being only me I hadn't needed anything larger, and it was a bit of a squeeze, but we managed, pressed up against each other the way Barry and I used to have our fish suppers.

I polished mine off, giving Kurtis a taste of the curry sauce which he approved of, and then I took all the remains into the kitchen, taking all the wrappers and the carrier bag outside to the bin. Left indoors they had a habit of smelling the house out. Stale fish and chips is not the best aroma.

"Can I shower?" he asked, only it has been nearly two days travelling and I know I need to.

"Yes of course. I presume showers work pretty much the same world over. The bathroom is opposite your bedroom. That will pretty much be yours to use, I have an ensuite in my bedroom, so don't really use that one, apart from that is where I keep the laundry hamper. Any clothes that need washing go in there."

"Fair do's, okay, right, I'll be back in a bit," he said and was gone, taking his other suitcase with him. Whilst I sat down in the lounge listening to his sounds from upstairs, hearing him pad across the landing into the bathroom, the sound of the shower water, the sounds of him washing, my mind went back to before he emigrated.

He is a little bit older than me, and when I was eighteen, we had had a bit of a thing. It was after I had met Barry, but before Barry and I were serious, and I was still kind of playing the field a bit. Kurtis was a beguiling man in his early twenties, especially with his stories of down under where he wanted to go.

We had gone to a pub one evening, had too much to drink, and ended up shagging in a field. It happened another couple of times but never turned into anything serious. I was reminiscing and recalling his cock, laying back on the sofa when he came back down, T Shirt on and a pair of surf shorts. A pair of small surf shorts.

"Shower okay?" I asked, my eyes on his bulge.

"Yes, perfecto," he replied and sat down opposite me in the armchair. As he sat, I could just make out his cock in the right leg of his shorts, not clearly, but it was there. I made myself look away, I had no business with his cock, I had simply been lost in my memories. A twinge in my fanny as I had a flashback in my memory to the first time we shagged.

He had been deliberate, methodical, not like most of the boys I went with back than who just wanted to shove their cock in my fanny and bladder away until they spurted. No, he had used his fingers along my crease, around my clitoris, at my entrance, bringing me to a state of arousal where all I wanted him to do was stick his cock in my fanny.

And when he eventually came to penetrating me, again, it was slow, gentle and at the same deep and hard. I had never been shagged like it before, and it had taken a lot of coaching to get my later boyfriend Barry to have the same approach. I assumed that the bitch Astrid had subsequently benefitted from my coaching of Barry.

Kurtis spoke of his life down under, how he had worked as a fireman until his knees became a little too unsteady for the demanding work and he had retreated to the back office and then eventually his diabetes had started and that was what had brought him to the attention of the officials who declared him persona non grata.

He had taken a few girlfriends in Melbourne, but never a wife, it just wasn't his way he said. It seemed he was too independent a thinker to be shoehorned into the straitjacket of a marriage to one person. I argued that a marriage was a meeting of minds, a melding together, the whole greater than the individuals.

He laughed and asked me where my husband was, and then immediately apologised, he had overstepped the mark he said. I supposed that perhaps he had, but I had no hang ups about my marriage, I had given Barry everything I could, I had shagged him even when I wasn't in the mood, I had sucked him when I had my period or used my hand or had him in the shower.

I did his laundry, I shared the cooking with him, we went out, we stayed in, we were a couple, but Astrid next door had somehow turned his head, caught his eye, handled his cock, absorbed his cock, taken his cock from me. Her fanny was no better than mine, I knew that, her tits were smaller, but perhaps a little perkier. In the end I had concluded that Barry and I had run our course, I was just the last to know.

Kurtis apologised again and said he was a bit jet lagged and excused himself and went up to bed. I pottered around downstairs, tidying up, locking the doors and then decided I would go up myself, I wasn't in the mood for TV. On the landing I met Kurtis returning from the bathroom, a naked Kurtis.

"Night," I said, wishing I had an eidetic memory and could recall at will my three second glance at his half erect cock. I didn't, and to be honest, I shouldn't actually want one. In my room I stripped, putting my knickers at the end of the bed ready to take to the laundry basket, went into the ensuite and had a good wash, taking especially good care of my pits and my groin.

Back in the main bedroom I picked up my soiled knickers and was about to head to the bathroom to drop them in the laundry basket when I remembered Kurtis. Wandering around naked was no longer an option. I grabbed my rarely used robe from the back of my door and threw it on, tying the belt and heading to the bathroom knickers in hand. Through the open door I could see the reflection of Kurtis in the dresser mirror, laying on the bed, his cock now hard and jutting up. I looked away and deposited my knickers as intended.

Back in my room I hung my robe up and left the door ajar to allow airflow, and then got into bed, listening to the sounds of the house, wondering if they would change now that there was, once more, an additional resident. I couldn't hear much even with the doors open, no sounds to distract from outside, new houses are so well insulated that you hardly hear anything external.

I did think I could hear a sort of slapping, a familiar sound and then I recognised it. Barry had made the same sounds, it was Kurtis masturbating, the slap as his hand pressed fully down and contacted his pubis. I imagined I could hear the slurp sound as his foreskin slid back and forth, but in reality, I could not.

I wanted to watch, I wanted to see him get his relief, to see his cock dance in his crotch as he stretched his foreskin up and down, but I dare not, he would see me watching, and I knew for some men it was a private moment. Barry loved me to watch, but some earlier boyfriends had even denied that they did it, as if it were some terrible slur on their character.

I closed my eyes and Kurtis' cock was in my mind's eye, big, hard, veined. He wanted shagging, but that should not be me, I was more his landlady than his lover. Being his lover was history, and we all knew that revisiting history was a bad idea. The last time we had shagged had been the night before he left, a sort of 'see ya' shag I supposed.

He had still taken his time, he had still brought me to the edge of orgasm before his cock went anywhere near my fanny. When I did orgasm, it had been Earth shattering, so much so that my body shook with the simple memory of it. Meanwhile Kurtis was laying naked on my spare bed, wanking his cock at memories of a woman, probably Australian, unlikely to be me, I was probably too insignificant in his memory.

My dreams were filled with memories of shagging Kurtis all those years ago, juxtaposed with my modern experiences. The field that we had first shagged in was now a car dealership, things move on, the cars that we shagged in had probably been scrapped and crushed, a bit like my marriage to Barry.

In the morning I showered and dressed in a skirt and blouse and went down to put the kettle on. Kurtis came in wearing a T Shirt and those shorts again.

"What would you like for breakfast?" I asked, "and do you want tea or coffee?"

"I usually have Weetbix and juice," he said, "but coffee will be fine."

"Okay, I don't have them, but we do get Weetabix here, they are probably the same or similar, I will get them next time I go to Tesco."

"Crikey Tesco, yes, we have Coles and Woolies in Oz."

"No, we don't have them, we used to have Woolworths, but they went bust years ago. I know about Coles, I have seen them on TV, they look pretty much the same as Tesco. You'll have to have cornflakes today."

I got the box of cornflakes out of the cupboard and the milk from the fridge and put them on the table, and then passed him a bowl and a spoon. Coffee made I passed him his, and then sat opposite, watching as he consumed his breakfast. I wasn't in the mood for breakfast, I was still full of last evening's fish and chips.

I wasn't going to run him everywhere, and so I showed him how to download the Uber app, he could go by Uber for most things. He said he needed to go into town and set up a UK bank account, his were still Australian and the currency exchange costs would be horrific, and the same for his phone, he needed a UK sim.

After we had finished he went up to his room to change, ready to go out and start sorting out his UK life. I pottered around downstairs, and then when he had gone I went up to shower. I stripped and rubbed my hand over my mons, I needed a shave, I had let things slip. It wasn't that I wanted to do anything with Kurtis, not like that, but that with a man about the place I began to think about myself again.

I sat on the edge of the tub in the bathroom, the ensuite only had a shower, and rubbed shaving gel over my stubble and began to shave, wishing I had put on a new blade, but this used blade would have to do for now, at least until I went shopping. I went slowly, holding my skin taught as I scraped away the hairs. Eventually finished, I stood up and rinsed the bath and went back to my room.

In my room I showered and then after I had patted myself dry, I rubbed moisturiser across my mons, my finger catching my clitoris gave me a moment of surprise. Little electric shocks flowed from my groin, reawakening my sexuality, reminding me that even though I was well over forty, that I was still a sexual being. Oh God, that meant scouring dating sites. Yeuk.

I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself. My boobs sagged a little, but not too much, and in the right bra, they would look good enough, especially for my age. My tummy was mostly flat although I did have a little bit of a bulge about my mons, and quite right too I decided. I turned and looked at my buttocks, smooth and rounded. I would pass muster, but how to find someone to appreciate what I had to offer, that would be the challenge.

I stood naked in my room going through my wardrobe, pulling out my dresses one at a time, holding them up to me, and ranking them as out there, modest or safe. You know what I mean. I decided to wear dresses from now on, at least then when I was out I might attract some attention, you know, love in the chiller aisle.

Underwear, now that was the thing. I had got into the habit of wearing unflattering but comfortable bras, I needed to go back to the push 'em up and in your face underwired type. I pulled out an old Playtex that I hadn't worn for years and put it on, doing the clasp up at the front then rotating it the right way round, slipping my arms through and then manoeuvring my boobs into the cups, and then giving them a final heft for comfort.

Knickers, oh God, what to wear for knickers. I had been wearing huge Bridget Jones' for ages, for no reason really. I moved all the Bridgets to one side and looked at what I had at the bottom of my drawer. I found a white thong, God how Barry had loved me in them, getting hard instantly when he saw them almost covering my snatch.

That bought back a memory I didn't want, but it was them or some boy shorts, and I had never really liked them, feeling secure, but never flattered. The thong it was. I pulled it on, almost grimacing at how the thin strap dug in right underneath where I transitioned from back bottom to front bottom. I needed new underwear.

I put on the blue dress that I had decided on. It was low cut at the front and back, my bra just hidden behind, and my cleavage up there and waving hello at the front. No visible underwear lines, good. I looked again in the mirror. Good grief, it was as if I had shed ten years, I was amazed at the transformation. Some decent makeup, and my good, watch out men.

Well, in truth, it probably wasn't like that, but it was a hell of an improvement. Shoes I would worry about later, recently I had just gone for comfort, now I need the looks that decent heels would give me. I wouldn't be able to afford Christian Louboutin hooker heels, but I was sure I could find some decent affordable heels at the mall.

I heard the front door close, Kurtis was back. I went down to see if he wanted a coffee, almost instantly forgetting I had transformed from obscure divorcee to cougaresque hottie. Well, look warm.

"God look at you," Kurtis said, "Of on a date?"

"Don't be silly, I was just trying on a few old clothes I hadn't worn since the divorce. Now then, would you like a tea or a coffee whilst you tell me how you got on."

"I think I would like to try a tea now I am back in the homeland, it is what everyone drinks I suppose."