Chapter 3

The Reardon's were all ready for Lloyd Browne-Douglas' arrival. Ramsey Reardon was sitting in an over-stuffed chair before the fire, puffing on his pipe. Viola was busy in the kitchen, preparing the meal. Fiona and Julie were setting the table.

"I don't know why mother had to invite Richard," Fiona complained. "He has absolutely no manners. I'm sure he will embarrass all of us."

"Oh, he's not so bad," Julie said. "He just is a bit of an actor and he likes the rogue role."

"I don't know how you can say that," Fiona said. "Last time he came to dinner when Lloyd was here, I thought I would die. Lloyd was discussing Thackery. He asked Richard if he was familiar with Thackery and Richard said he wasn't — was it a brand of beer?"

"But that's funny," Julie laughed. "Did he really?"

"Yes, he really did," Fiona complained. "I was never so embarrassed."

"If you girls would stop gossiping and running down poor Richard Rankin, would you kindly get me a mead."

"Yes, Father," Fiona said, going to the cupboard and taking down the bottle of mead wine. She poured a goblet full of the sweet wine and took it to her father.

"Thank you dear," Ramsey smiled, looking up at his adopted daughter. "You look lovely in your blue dress."

"Thank you, Father," she smiled. "But it's green. You are colored blind."

"Yes," he said, puffing at his pipe. "I always forget to correct for my failures."

"It's not a failure, Mr. Reardon," Julie smiled. "Horses are color blind also."

"That would be nice if I were a horse," Ramsey laughed.

The sound of a buggy was heard outside.

"He's here," Julie gushed. "Aren't you excited, Fiona?"

"Yes, dreadfully so," she smiled, looking out the window.

"I swear," Julie said, "doesn't he look dashing in his waist coat?"

"Yes," Fiona smiled, patiently. She went to the door and opened it for her fiance.

"Hello, Fiona," Lloyd said as he stepped into the house and bussed her on the cheek.

"Hello, dear," Fiona smiled.

"Good evening, Mr. Reardon, Julie."

"Welcome to Ramsey Gate," Ramsey stood. "Can I offer you a mead?"

"No, I never drink," the Cambridge don said. "It interferes with my faculties."

"Come by the fire and warm up, Sir," Ramsey said.

"Thank you," the college professor said. "There is a bit of a chill in the air.

Julie watched the professor with excitement. She was always excited by him. He seemed so dashing to her, dressed in his gentleman's clothes.

"Can I get you anything?" Fiona asked her fiance.

"No dear," he ran his hand through his thick blond hair and adjusted his spectacles. "I'm fine. I brought you a little treat, darling"

"Candy?" she asked, with excitement.

"No, a book," he smiled. "I wouldn't want you to acquire rotten teeth because of me. I would rather feed you brain food."

The college professor reached into the pocket of his waist coat and withdrew a gaily wrapped package. "A French writer friend of mine wrote it. It's quite brilliant. I'm sure the world will one day applaud Gustave Flaubert."

"Gustave Flaubert?" Fiona asked.

"Yes," Lloyd said. "He wrote your gift. Madame Bovary. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. It's risque."

"A risque gift from you?" Fiona asked, incredulously.

Lloyd blushed. "I hope it won't offend you. It's so brilliantly conceived and written and I, think we must excuse some amoral excesses."

"It will do the girl good," Ramsey said. "Don't you worry. It's about time Fiona learned something about the facts of life."

"Father!" she seemed shocked.

"Now, now," Ramsey smiled, standing by the fire. "If you are to be married, you are going to have to learn about these things, sooner or later."

Fiona and Lloyd were blushing crimson, as Richard Rankin knocked on the door.

Julie opened the door to him and the stables hand, dressed in clean dungarees strolled in.

"Hello there, Richard," Ramsey called out.

"Good evening to you, Mr. Reardon," Richard smiled. "Julie, Fiona, Mr. Lloyd Brown-Douglas."

Julie smiled, Fiona frowned and the professor looked at the farm hand with disgust.

"I see you've brought another book along for Fiona," Richard said. "She's sure going to be one hell of an educated lass."

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," the college professor cleared his throat. "It's Gustave Flaubert's masterpiece, Madame Bovary."

"What's that about?" Richard asked, "the madame of a brothel?"

"Richard!" Fiona blushed. "How dare you."

"Now, now," Ramsey smiled, holding his pipe to his lips, "it's quite understandable how Richard could make that mistake."

"Well, hello everyone," Viola said, as she entered the dining room, carrying platters heaped with steaming beef roast, potatoes, rice, carrots and creamed spinach.

"Hello, Mrs. Reardon," Richard smiled. "Thank you for the pan cakes this morning. You're going to make a fat man of me yet."

"It will be my pleasure, Richard," she smiled.

"Good evening to you," Lloyd said to his future mother-in-law. "The food smells delectable. And to show my appreciation, I've brought along a little present for you, as well."

The college professor pulled yet another gaily wrapped package from his waist coat pocket.

The woman, quite excitedly began unwrapping the package. "Oh, how wonderful," she smiled, "the sonnets of Byron. I do love Lord Byron."

"He has something to say," the professor smiled. "Truly a gifted writer. England should be proud of her literary sons."

"Books, books, books," Richard scowled. "They seem to be such a waste of time to me. I say, man should live and not simply keep his nose buried in a book."

"Literature softens the soul," Lloyd said.

"It softens it all right," the stables hand snickered. "You read too much and you turn into a frigging pansy, if you ask me."

"Father," Fiona protested, "tell him not to talk like that. It's so rude."

"I do certainly apologize," Richard said. "I didn't mean to offend. I reckon I just don't have no manners."

"You don't have any manners," Lloyd sniffed.

"Yeah, just like I said."

"Well, children," Viola announced, "dinner is served."

"That's good," Richard said. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse, hair and all."

"You are disgusting," Fiona said. "You talk as though you were raised in a slum."

"I was," Richard smiled. "It taught me a bit about life. I can tell you all sorts of stories, the kind that will make your hair stand on end.

"I think we would prefer not to hear any of your rancid tales at the dinner table, Richard," Fiona said, passing the platter of meat to her fiance.

Richard winked at Julie and she winked back, moving her foot beneath the table and rubbing it against Richard's leg.

"If you are fond of tales of the down and out," Lloyd sniffed, "you might enjoy Dickens."

"I don't have time to be reading no books," Richard said, with a mouthful of half-chewed meat.

"You should take the time to read," Lloyd said. "You might learn a few things. And heaven knows, you could benefit by a little learning."

"Thank you, your honor," Richard said, reaching across the table and grabbing several boiled potatoes with his bare hands.

"Your manners are absolutely astounding," Lloyd commented.

"Would you kindly get off my case?" Richard said to Lloyd. "I'm hungry and I want to eat. The object of eating seems to me to bring the food from the table to my mouth. And that's what makes sense to me."

"Yes, I understand completely," Lloyd said. "You just go ahead and eat the way you want to eat. You do spend most of your time with the farm animals don't you?"

"Would you like to step outside, Professor?"

"Now, now, gentlemen," Ramsey said, "let's not get violent. Let's simply enjoy the meal that Viola has worked so hard to prepare for us."

"Yes, of course," Richard smiled at the grey haired woman. "I didn't mean to disparage your fine cooking. You are the best cook in all of England!"

"I think you exaggerate, just a trifle, Richard," Viola smiled.

"And how is work?" Fiona asked her fiance.

"Quite nice, actually," he sniffed. "The freshman class promises to be one of the brighter ones in years."

"That must be quite stimulating," Fiona smiled.

"Yes, it does challenge one to stay on one's toes," Lloyd said, peering at his beautiful fiance, through his spectacles. "But after we are married and you're living with me it will all be so lovely. You'll see."

"It sounds lovely," Julie smiled. "Fiona as the wife of a Cambridge don, how awfully exciting."

"Yes," Richard smiled. "I'm sure that she'll be the brightest woman in all of England, simply from hanging about with our professor here."

"You really are impossible," Fiona looked quite angry. "Mother, I wish you wouldn't invite Richard to dinner when I'm here."

"I wish you would try not to be so serious," Viola said to her daughter. "Richard is just having a little fun. I'm sure he doesn't mean to offend."

"That's right, Fiona," Richard smiled. "Don't you like to laugh?"

"Of course I like to laugh," she said. "I just don't find anything funny about Richard's rude comments."

The dinner dragged on like this, with Richard taking turns with Fiona and Lloyd, slinging abuse their way. Ramsey rather enjoyed it. In many ways, Richard reminded Ramsey of himself when he was a young man. Viola also felt a kinship with the rowdy young man. There was something raw about him. He reminded her of the country life.

Lloyd Browne-Douglas simply didn't fit in. It was obvious to everyone, expect poor Lloyd. Fiona did her best to play the perfect hostess and fiance. But her adopted parents knew only too well, that if she indeed married the sniveling young intellectual, she would have a miserable life. They knew he would spend all his evenings preparing lectures at the University and she would be alone.

"May I walk you home?" Richard asked Fiona, after the evening had drawn on into night.

"Thank you," she smiled.

Fiona watched with thinly disguised hostility as Richard and Julie took their leave of the party and headed off across the field to Norwich Farms.

"Well, it was good vittles," he said to the lovely blonde, "but I don't much care to be around that phony Lloyd character."

"He's not so bad," Julie smiled. "I think he's sort of cute."

"You would," he said. "The fellow is a total creep and you know it."

"No I don't," she said. "And do you see how silly Fiona acts whenever he's about?"

"If I didn't know you better, Richard Rankin," Julie moved close to him, "I would think you were jealous."

"That's nonsense!"

"Me thinks thou dost protest too much," she smiled.

"Now you talk just like him."

"No, silly, that's Shakespeare," Julie laughed.

"Do you see what I mean?" he stared narrowly at her. "Always quoting those damn writers."

"My, aren't you hostile tonight?" she smiled. "And I was hoping that we could have a little fun before you took me home."

"Yeah, what kind of fun?"

"What kind do you like?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," he laughed. "Let's go over by that yonder clump of trees."

Julie took Richard's hand and he guided her over the heath, to the soft grass which grew beneath the clump of shade trees.

She reclined on the soft grass and moaned with pleasure as the farm hand stroked her hair.

"Do you like me, Richard?" she asked. "Or am I simply an object of desire for you?"

"I care for you," he said. "Can't you tell that?"

"Yes, I can tell," she said. "I can tell that you like to fuck a lot. That's what I can tell."

"My, my, sweet Julie," he smiled, "I didn't know you knew how to talk like that."

"It pleases you, doesn't it?"

"Well, it's plenty more natural than all that phony talk from the professor, "I don't want to talk," Richard said. "Let's leave that to the professor." He began to unbutton her blouse.

"Is that all you ever think about?"

"What else really matters — when you come right down to it?" he asked.

"You always have a flip answer, don't you?"

But Richard didn't reply. Not with words. He opened the front of her blouse and ran his fingers over her breasts. Squeezing at the breast flesh, he took delight in the young blonde's moans of increasing lust.

"Richard, you have this hold over me," she said.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," he said, squeezing her tits and working his fingers over her taut nipples. As he pinched the pinkish crowns between his fingers, he lowered his mouth to one and then the other. He sucked at the nipple, working it between his teeth and tongue.

"Oh, Richard," she moaned, "you really get to me. You do such wonderful things to me. So very wonderful."

He continued to flick his tongue against her swollen nipples, as he ran his hand down over her belly to the top of her skirt. And then realizing that the girl was wearing a skirt and not her customary trousers, he pressed his hand beneath her skirt.

He ran his fingers up along the inside of her thigh, to the moistened mound of light pubic hair. He squeezed her pussy and ran the tips of his fingers into the sex slit.

Hiking the skirt up around her waist, he pulled at her panties — in his sexual frenzy and ripped them off her hips.

"So violent?" she murmured.

"Shut up," he snarled. "I don't want to talk. I want to suck."

She moaned with instant pleasure as the young stables helper moved between her thighs and slid his hands beneath her ass cheeks. He brought her pussy up to his mouth and kissed it passionately. He could taste the bitter juices of her vagina, as he ran the tip of his tongue about in the fuck hole and up over her clitoris.

"Oh, Richard," she moaned, pumping her pelvis up against his mouth, "you make me so hot. Suck harder, darling."

Lifting her ass up off the soft grass, he ran his tongue in and out of her pussy opening and then slid it over to her anus. He pressed the tip of his tongue slowly in and out of her arse.

"Oh, you pervert," she moaned. "You excite me so. Don't ever stop wanting me, Richard.

"I don't know what I would do if you ever said that you didn't want me anymore," she cried in the heat of passion.

Please, don't ever stop."

He didn't reply. Rather, he continued sucking and working his tongue about, over her two apertures and over the blood engorged pussy flesh.

"I'm going to come, darling," she moaned. "Oh, God, you are going to make me come."

And then she came. As Richard sucked at her sex, squeezing her tits, as he worked his mouth over her sex, the lovely young blonde screamed out with pleasure and began pumping wildly.

He moved his hand to her mouth, to muffle the scream and pressed his finger into her ass, while he sucked at her clit.

"Oh, Jesus," she groaned, "this is not real. I will die from this pleasure. It's much too much."

He continued to suck, until she tried to pull away.

And then, he immediately moved in between her thighs and pressed his rod into her tight cunt.

"Oh, Richard," she moaned, wrapping her legs tightly around him, "you feel so good. Oh, Richard, fuck me. Fuck me hard."

He pounded his rod furiously in and out of the girl's pussy. As he rode her high and hard, she was again moving up the rungs of the ladder to orgasm.

But even as he was preparing to shoot his load of come into her cunt, he pulled his thunderous rod from her cunt and crammed it into her tight anus.

"Oh, God," she howled, "you're killing me. Please. No."

"Shut up!" he howled, ramming his stick in and out of her asshole.

The hot insides of her rectum pounded on his shaft. He drove himself deeply into her ass.

"Richard," she moaned, "I'm so sore. Please, be gentle."

"Stop bitching," he sighed, "I told you before. Frig yourself. That will make it nice."

"Oh, Richard," she groaned, "you're killing me. Please, stop. Take it out."

But he didn't take it out. He continued to pound his cock in and out of her ass. He was almost there — almost ready to shoot his hot load of jism into her asshole.

"Oh, Richard ... "

"Julie, I come."

And while the lovely young blond frigged her clitoris vigorously, Richard's cock spasmed in her asshole and he shot gobs of hot semen deeply inside of her.

"Yes, Richard, yes," she groaned, "that's nice. So nice. I'm going to come again."

While Richard worked his ejaculating tool in and out of the tightness of the lovely young woman's asshole, she continued to frig herself wildly, coming and gyrating about on the grass, as Richard slowly pulled his fuck stick from her behind.

"Oh, Richard, darling," she moaned, as she writhed about on the grass, "you do things for me. You do wonderful things for me."

"That's nice to know," he smiled. "I knew you would be feeling that way after a bit."

"Why are you so cock sure about everything?"

"It's a good way to be," he smiled.

"Richard, what's to become of us?"

"What's with this 'us' stuff?"

"Well, surely you aren't going to simply use me, sexually. I mean, there is a future for us, is there not?"

"My dear, what fairy tale have you been reading?"

"Richard," she moaned, "what do you mean by that?"

"I think you know very well what I mean," he said. "When we started fucking around, there wasn't any talk about getting married, or anything."

"Of course not," Julie said. "What kind of a girl would I be if I tried to bribe you like that?"

"Well, isn't that what you are trying to do, right now?"

"It's not bribery," she said. "I'm talking about love. You know, my father is quite fond of you. If we were to marry ... "

"That is something not likely to occur," he said.

"You are a cruel womanizer, Richard Rankin."

"Isn't that what you liked about me in the first place?"

"Let's not talk," she said. "Fuck me again."