Zille Defeu’s Fetish Fantasies

Posts Tagged ‘Mel’

Previously…

The incident with the horse and the spanking taught me that I needed to be much more careful. It became more and more difficult to avoid being alone with Mel, it started to feel like a rather macabre dance. Mel’s parents certainly noticed; I overheard Mel’s mum telling her to give me a little space.

University kept me busy and out of reach of Mel; I told her that I would move if she continued to come into the garage. She ceased doing that – she wasn’t a bad girl; it was just a difficult time for both of us.

But it wasn’t all hard: we went to the pictures, and on bike rides, and, as the other children got bigger, a little pony trekking.

Her brother and sister acted all unconsciously as wonderful chaperones, although Mel knew exactly what I was doing and didn’t like it. Mel was nearly sixteen and hot to trot, her body was making demands that her mind and emotions couldn’t really cope with.

When I looked at Mel, my body was also making demands! By this time Mel was fully physically developed as a female, and she had all the wiles of Eve. There were times when it was necessary for me to do the necessary four or five times a day.

A troubling habit she developed when swimming with me and the family, and no-one was looking, was that she would let a breast pop out of the top of her suit; she was often rewarded with a couple of hard swats on her suit bottom! But I soon realised that it was indeed a reward and instead ignored her. Once I spotted her coming out of her mum’s sowing room; she looked upset, she disappeared upstairs … and after that she never flashed me again. She told me after we were married that she had flashed me, and I hadn’t noticed, but her mum had! Mum never spanked, but the telling off she received was worse than a spanking for a nearly-sixteen year old!

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Previously…

I moved in during the week-end, and every time that I went in or out, Mel seemed to be there.

I called her over, “Sweetie, is there something that I can do for you?” She blushed, giggled and moved away.

Mrs S— had stocked the fridge, bread, butter, milk, eggs and other comestibles. I knocked on the kitchen door to thank the lady and ask what I owed her; a voice that I recognised said, “Come in Sergeant-Major!” I asked, “Afternoon, Mel, is your mother in?”

“Yes, she is in the front garden, would you like me to call her?”

“No, that’s all right, I’ll walk ‘round.”

“I’ll come with you….”

“OK.”

As we walked round I explained to Mel that she need not use my rank, that Paul would be fine, or if that made her uncomfortable, I would answer to Mr Paul, “but why,” she asked, “aren’t you proud of your rank.” “Not really, it was necessary for my job, military titles belong in the army, and you don’t call your daddy general all the time, do you?” “No” she replied, “he wouldn’t really like it,” “I feel the same; in a civilian environment it isn’t appropriate.”

After about a month the children and I got on like a house on fire, Mrs S— mothered me, I didn’t see a lot of the general, his duties kept him fairly busy.

All this time while I was settling in, the children had more or less accepted my presence, Mrs S— tended to treat me as a grown-up son; this felt strange, nobody had done that for me before.

The feelings between Mel and I weren’t going away.

I had bought a bicycle and had permission to take the children on rides in Regents Park, and occasionally I took them on the boating pond. Mel was good with her brother and sister; she wouldn’t let them play me up.

After about nine months, I’d been in the army nearly six years. I had signed on for twenty-one years with the option, of discharge, should I wish, at the end of every three year period. Mrs S— persuaded me to discuss my plans with the general. I told him that I needed to go to university and that I had seen an opening for a career: I was very interested in the new and growing science of Information Technology. I wanted to get degrees in Computer science and Language, and see if I couldn’t set up an agency.

The general agreed, he considered that as far as promotion went I’d be marking time in the army, so I ought to go for it. In July ‘58 I applied for and obtained a place in the first IT degree course offered by the London School of Economics; I also applied for an honourable discharge from the Royal Army which went through with no problems.

In June of ‘58 Mel was fifteen, and her parents bought her a pony – well a small mare. She called it Suki. I bought her a hard hat and riding gloves.

Teaching her to ride was a thrilling thing; she was a very responsive pupil. I had learnt to ride as a child at the orphanage, and it was a good way to get round during the war, since hay wasn’t rationed.

The Saturday morning after Mel’s birthday weekend I was lazing about the flat. I’d been out the night before and hadn’t got to bed before two AM. There was a ring at the door, and I when looked down the stairs, there was a very nervous Mel. “Mel? What are you doing here? You know the rules.”

“Oh please, Paul, I’ve got to speak to you!”
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