Hannah was twelve when her mother Debbie and I first got together and only two years older when we were married. Her parents had divorced when she was only three and her ‘real’ father now lived in Toronto with his new wife and a gaggle of younger British-Canadian kids. Hannah hadn’t seen him in years.
The last time she had gone to stay she had felt so awkward with his new wife clearly resenting her presence in the house. Their two kids had been far too young to be company for Hannah and the experience had not been repeated – to the disappointment of no-one other than me.
As a result, being an only child of a single Mum, Hannah had grown up seeing Debbie, her Mum more as a sister than a mother; in truth there was only an eighteen year gap between them anyway and the two were extremely close when yours truly first came on the scene.
Debbie and I had been introduced at a friend’s barbecue party one warm summer day. Both damaged divorcees in our thirties, she and I had surprisingly hit it off straight away and Debbie had accepted my suggestion that we meet for lunch later in the week. Over the coming few months, lunch dates had become dinner dates; quick kisses goodbye in the doorway had become slow kisses in the hallway and eventually one wonderful morning I woke up in Debbie’s bed with her naked body alongside me.
Within three months we had moved in together and less than a year later we were married.
It should have been a happy ending or a new beginning, but our attempt at playing ‘happy families’ was seriously marred by Hannah’s behaviour. I suppose in retrospect, this was entirely predictable.
Hannah took after her Scottish-born father both in appearance and in temperament. A natural redhead with pale, slightly freckly skin and deep green eyes, she was tall and slim to the point of skinny, a situation that made her rather self-conscious and which changed little as she passed through puberty.
She had a fiery Celtic temper to match and used it to the full on those of whom she disapproved – which in most cases was me!
When I was merely a visiting boyfriend I was tolerated with cool, almost excessive politeness.
When it became clear that her mother and I were sleeping together this changed to bad tempered grumpiness and long silences when I was with them both.
When I actually moved in with them this became almost open hostility, manifesting itself in ways as trivial as deliberately not setting a place for me at the table; hiding my car keys (eventually found under her bed) through acts of increasing seriousness all the way to teenage temper tantrums and on one memorable occasion the cutting in half of all my ties for a supposed slight I had given her over breakfast.
“She’s just trying to get your attention,” Debbie would say. “And mine too. It’s only to be expected. She’ll grow out of it!”
In my opinion she couldn’t grow out of it quickly enough but I bit my lip and kept my mind on my lovely fiancée, as Debbie was at the time.
Debbie was, of course, quite right. Hannah did improve considerably, but not gradually as expected. No. to our joint amazement she changed dramatically almost overnight. Looking back, the key moment in her transformation, to our surprise, was the one time we thought she would be at her worst – our wedding!
Because we had both been married before, we didn’t want a long, drawn-out engagement in which Hannah could create disharmony, but did want to make it a very special event for us both so invited a lot of family and friends to a large wedding breakfast. Hannah at first grudgingly agreed to be a bridesmaid and for most of the time maintained an air of bad tempered grumpy co-operation but as preparations progressed and the day approached, she seemed to start actually enjoying the whole process.
It certainly helped that the colour scheme was chosen to suit her. I wasn’t allowed in on the plan but when the day finally came and my family and I arrived at the stately Edwardian Registry Office for the ceremony I was completely gobsmacked when my stunning wife-to-be and stepdaughter arrived in the bride’s father’s cherished Jaguar.
Debbie’s figure-hugging mid-thigh length cream dress was trimmed with pale jade, the same colour as the flowers she carried; even her long blonde hair was trimmed with pale green ribbon.
A better looking Spring Bride never was seen!
But my mouth truly fell open when Hannah stepped out of the car behind her beautiful mother. She looked simply stunning in a close fitting very short sleeveless green dress which matched her mother’s to perfection and showed off legs of a length I had never dreamed she possessed. If she had been blessed with boobs it would have shown them off too. Her red hair had been brushed till it shone and was trimmed in the same green ribbon her mother wore.
I positively floated through the ceremony – partly on a raft of champagne, but mostly in disbelief that I could be such a lucky man – and emerged with a ring on my finger and a broad smile on my face.
But what really put the icing on the cake was that, when Debbie and I returned from our honeymoon, it was to a step daughter transformed - sweet, happy and beautiful.
That doesn’t mean that the next few years were without their challenges. No indeed!
Apart from the usual ‘discussions’ about homework, TV and the balance thereof, there were the inevitable ‘girly’ arguments about make-up (too much), dress style (too tight), skirt length (too short), heel height (too high), fake tan (ridiculous on a freckled red head!), party hours (too late), unsuitable friends (too disreputable) and, of course boyfriends – although there were surprisingly few of these.
To be honest, I stayed well away from most of these issues, leaving Debbie to lay down the law as she saw fit. It was cowardly I know but the two of them had been so close it made my position difficult.
And then there was the issue of privacy.
As Hannah maturated physically if not emotionally, it became increasingly difficult to move around the house without being embarrassed or causing offence.
Sometimes she would sit cross legged casually watching TV either in her underwear or with her skirt up around her waist. I didn’t know where to look!
Sometimes the bathroom door wouldn’t be properly locked allowing me to accidentally walk in on her in the bath with consequent embarrassment and resentment.
On other days, her bedroom door would be left ajar as she got changed with the same result – trouble for me.
As she grew older and taller so her skirts became shorter and shorter and she continued walking round the house dressed only in her underwear as if she was still a child which made my position very difficult indeed.
Thank God her boobs remained tiny – a fact I knew only too well after walking unsuspecting into my own bedroom one evening to find the newly eighteen-year-old Hannah flagrantly bare-breasted, trying on a new dark blue bikini in front of her mother.
Needless to say I was not popular that night either, but over time we reached an acceptable, if sometimes tense way of living and life carried on.
***
In the spring, just after Hannah’s eighteenth birthday, Debbie and I decided to treat ourselves and bought a hot tub for the garden. What with the famously bad British Summers, this was a risky purchase but we had been hankering after one since our family holiday in Portugal the previous year. The villa in which we had stayed was on a complex which included, amongst other things, a sauna, a steam room and several hot tubs.
Neither Debbie nor I had cared for the first two items (Debbie said they ruined her hair) but we had both really loved the feeling of hot bubbly water around us in the fresh air. Hannah had loved them all of course but had particularly liked the hot tub and had stayed far too long until her fingers pruned.
We decided we just had to have one for ourselves!
Our garden backs on to woodland and is very secluded. There was a space just large enough directly across the patio from the dining room doors where a tub could go, entirely hidden from the neighbours and, with judicious placing of trellis, also hidden from most of the windows in the house. So, when we came home we raided our savings, hit the credit cards big-time and placed an order.
The tub arrived soon afterwards. It was round, deep, blue on the inside and had an underwater bench seat around most of the perimeter. For a week or so it stood in its plastic packaging on the patio but eventually the workmen arrived and it was installed just in time for the long weekend holiday; an Easter present to us all.
It was a great success from the first day.
From the moment my wife crossed the patio in the sunshine dressed in a white bikini, her shapely body stepping nervously but sexily towards me, I knew I was going to love it. We floated and chatted and touched each other under the water for a long time, my erection huge but blessedly concealed beneath the bubbles. The first time she stepped out of it, the water cascading from her lightly tanned body, her hair dark and falling down her back, I fell in lust all over again.
I lost count of the number of times Debbie and I made love in the tub over the next few months; sometimes on the wooden seat to the side, sometimes beneath the water. Hidden from prying eyes and especially when Hannah was away, we tried every idea that came to us.
It’s amazing how long a man can hold his breath if he’s giving a beautiful girl oral sex under the water. It’s amazing how long a girl can stay submerged with a man’s cock in her mouth. Debbie’s favourite trick was to strip off her bikini bottom under the water and straddle me as I sat on the submerged bench, teasing me cruelly as she lowered herself down onto my erect cock, taking control, riding me like a professional and rising on her knees if I was naughty enough to try and thrust upwards.
It brought a new and exciting dimension to our already very active sex.
Unfortunately, when she was home, my stepdaughter Hannah tended to monopolise the tub which put a severe damper on our aquatic adventures but with imagination we managed and in all, the tub was an inspired purchase.
***
It was a few months later and we had been celebrating. Debbie had just been made a Partner in her law firm – quite an achievement at her age – and we had asked a few friends round to help us mark the occasion.
The evening had gone well with champagne flowing, drinks and food in the garden and a great chance for us all to be glamorous for a while. Debbie had looked stunning in a short black cocktail dress, even Hannah had made an effort and had squeezed into a tight fitting green number that suited her colouring well and showed off her astonishingly long, skinny legs to powerful effect.
This effect was not lost on our guests, male and female, many of whom respectively admired and envied her youth and unselfconscious attractiveness. I was amused to see how on several occasions she found herself flirting unintentionally with some of the older men but to my surprise, none of the younger lads.
The evening passed happily; Debbie was seldom the centre of attention so at first was a little uncomfortable being the star of the show but a after few glasses of champagne and a large dose of obvious goodwill she was happy, relaxed and enjoying her good fortune.
As midnight approached and the air began to cool, the guests began to leave and the three of us began to relax, especially our new Junior Partner who by now had obviously enjoyed at least one glass of champagne more than was wise. Both she and Hannah were complaining of tired legs after three hours in ridiculously high heels and we all looked longingly at the hot tub, quickly coming to a unanimous decision to leave the clearing up to the morning and rushing inside to change into our swimming costumes.
Two minutes later, the three of us lay back in the hot water listening to the low hum of the motor and feeling the strong jets massage our legs and backs. Debbie had changed into the tight white bikini that accentuated her womanly curves and I loved to see her wearing. Hannah had donned her one-piece swimsuit, green of course, which tended to highlight the skinniness of her body and her near-absence of breasts and made her look much younger than her current eighteen years.
The warm water lapped around the three of us, the slow, atmospheric music that had been playing most of the evening seemed louder and more enveloping now that the guests had gone. I raised the plastic safety-glass of champagne to my lips and took a long sip, smiling as both Debbie and Hannah did the same.
“To our new Junior Partner!” I said, toasting my gorgeous, capable wife for the umpteenth time that night.
“To Mummy!” Hannah chorused, her words a little slurred.
“Just how much have you had to drink tonight?” Debbie asked her daughter in amusement, her own words slurred too.
“Just about… enough,” she replied cheekily, grinning and stretching out her long legs.
“Ouch!” I giggled as her toes collided with my inner thigh.
“Oops! Sorry!” Hannah raised a hand to her mouth in mock horror and brought her knees up under her chin so they stuck up out of the water.
A moment later I felt Debbie’s feet on my lap and began to stroke her calves and ankles beneath the bubbles as we tried to spot the constellations in the clear blackness of the sky above.
A short while later I felt Hannah’s feet join her mother’s and I stroked them both absent-mindedly, feeling the effects of the champagne. Debbie was clearly feeling it too because I could see her eyes closing in the low patio light, then opening wide in surprise as her face dipped into the water.
“I think our new Partner needs to go to bed,” I said after this had happened for a third time.
“What?” she asked, her voice definitely slurred.
“It’s bed time, Debs,” I smiled. My wife sighed.
“I suppose you’re right. I can’t keep my eyes open. But what about… all this?” she asked, waving her hand at the general untidiness in the garden.
“Hannah and I will bring it all inside tonight. We’ll clean up together in the morning.
“Sure you don’t mind?”
“Certain, right Hannah?” The ginger head nodded eagerly.
“No problem Mum, leave it to us,” she smiled.
“Thanks you two.
The last time she had gone to stay she had felt so awkward with his new wife clearly resenting her presence in the house. Their two kids had been far too young to be company for Hannah and the experience had not been repeated – to the disappointment of no-one other than me.
As a result, being an only child of a single Mum, Hannah had grown up seeing Debbie, her Mum more as a sister than a mother; in truth there was only an eighteen year gap between them anyway and the two were extremely close when yours truly first came on the scene.
Debbie and I had been introduced at a friend’s barbecue party one warm summer day. Both damaged divorcees in our thirties, she and I had surprisingly hit it off straight away and Debbie had accepted my suggestion that we meet for lunch later in the week. Over the coming few months, lunch dates had become dinner dates; quick kisses goodbye in the doorway had become slow kisses in the hallway and eventually one wonderful morning I woke up in Debbie’s bed with her naked body alongside me.
Within three months we had moved in together and less than a year later we were married.
It should have been a happy ending or a new beginning, but our attempt at playing ‘happy families’ was seriously marred by Hannah’s behaviour. I suppose in retrospect, this was entirely predictable.
Hannah took after her Scottish-born father both in appearance and in temperament. A natural redhead with pale, slightly freckly skin and deep green eyes, she was tall and slim to the point of skinny, a situation that made her rather self-conscious and which changed little as she passed through puberty.
She had a fiery Celtic temper to match and used it to the full on those of whom she disapproved – which in most cases was me!
When I was merely a visiting boyfriend I was tolerated with cool, almost excessive politeness.
When it became clear that her mother and I were sleeping together this changed to bad tempered grumpiness and long silences when I was with them both.
When I actually moved in with them this became almost open hostility, manifesting itself in ways as trivial as deliberately not setting a place for me at the table; hiding my car keys (eventually found under her bed) through acts of increasing seriousness all the way to teenage temper tantrums and on one memorable occasion the cutting in half of all my ties for a supposed slight I had given her over breakfast.
“She’s just trying to get your attention,” Debbie would say. “And mine too. It’s only to be expected. She’ll grow out of it!”
In my opinion she couldn’t grow out of it quickly enough but I bit my lip and kept my mind on my lovely fiancée, as Debbie was at the time.
Debbie was, of course, quite right. Hannah did improve considerably, but not gradually as expected. No. to our joint amazement she changed dramatically almost overnight. Looking back, the key moment in her transformation, to our surprise, was the one time we thought she would be at her worst – our wedding!
Because we had both been married before, we didn’t want a long, drawn-out engagement in which Hannah could create disharmony, but did want to make it a very special event for us both so invited a lot of family and friends to a large wedding breakfast. Hannah at first grudgingly agreed to be a bridesmaid and for most of the time maintained an air of bad tempered grumpy co-operation but as preparations progressed and the day approached, she seemed to start actually enjoying the whole process.
It certainly helped that the colour scheme was chosen to suit her. I wasn’t allowed in on the plan but when the day finally came and my family and I arrived at the stately Edwardian Registry Office for the ceremony I was completely gobsmacked when my stunning wife-to-be and stepdaughter arrived in the bride’s father’s cherished Jaguar.
Debbie’s figure-hugging mid-thigh length cream dress was trimmed with pale jade, the same colour as the flowers she carried; even her long blonde hair was trimmed with pale green ribbon.
A better looking Spring Bride never was seen!
But my mouth truly fell open when Hannah stepped out of the car behind her beautiful mother. She looked simply stunning in a close fitting very short sleeveless green dress which matched her mother’s to perfection and showed off legs of a length I had never dreamed she possessed. If she had been blessed with boobs it would have shown them off too. Her red hair had been brushed till it shone and was trimmed in the same green ribbon her mother wore.
I positively floated through the ceremony – partly on a raft of champagne, but mostly in disbelief that I could be such a lucky man – and emerged with a ring on my finger and a broad smile on my face.
But what really put the icing on the cake was that, when Debbie and I returned from our honeymoon, it was to a step daughter transformed - sweet, happy and beautiful.
That doesn’t mean that the next few years were without their challenges. No indeed!
Apart from the usual ‘discussions’ about homework, TV and the balance thereof, there were the inevitable ‘girly’ arguments about make-up (too much), dress style (too tight), skirt length (too short), heel height (too high), fake tan (ridiculous on a freckled red head!), party hours (too late), unsuitable friends (too disreputable) and, of course boyfriends – although there were surprisingly few of these.
To be honest, I stayed well away from most of these issues, leaving Debbie to lay down the law as she saw fit. It was cowardly I know but the two of them had been so close it made my position difficult.
And then there was the issue of privacy.
As Hannah maturated physically if not emotionally, it became increasingly difficult to move around the house without being embarrassed or causing offence.
Sometimes she would sit cross legged casually watching TV either in her underwear or with her skirt up around her waist. I didn’t know where to look!
Sometimes the bathroom door wouldn’t be properly locked allowing me to accidentally walk in on her in the bath with consequent embarrassment and resentment.
On other days, her bedroom door would be left ajar as she got changed with the same result – trouble for me.
As she grew older and taller so her skirts became shorter and shorter and she continued walking round the house dressed only in her underwear as if she was still a child which made my position very difficult indeed.
Thank God her boobs remained tiny – a fact I knew only too well after walking unsuspecting into my own bedroom one evening to find the newly eighteen-year-old Hannah flagrantly bare-breasted, trying on a new dark blue bikini in front of her mother.
Needless to say I was not popular that night either, but over time we reached an acceptable, if sometimes tense way of living and life carried on.
***
In the spring, just after Hannah’s eighteenth birthday, Debbie and I decided to treat ourselves and bought a hot tub for the garden. What with the famously bad British Summers, this was a risky purchase but we had been hankering after one since our family holiday in Portugal the previous year. The villa in which we had stayed was on a complex which included, amongst other things, a sauna, a steam room and several hot tubs.
Neither Debbie nor I had cared for the first two items (Debbie said they ruined her hair) but we had both really loved the feeling of hot bubbly water around us in the fresh air. Hannah had loved them all of course but had particularly liked the hot tub and had stayed far too long until her fingers pruned.
We decided we just had to have one for ourselves!
Our garden backs on to woodland and is very secluded. There was a space just large enough directly across the patio from the dining room doors where a tub could go, entirely hidden from the neighbours and, with judicious placing of trellis, also hidden from most of the windows in the house. So, when we came home we raided our savings, hit the credit cards big-time and placed an order.
The tub arrived soon afterwards. It was round, deep, blue on the inside and had an underwater bench seat around most of the perimeter. For a week or so it stood in its plastic packaging on the patio but eventually the workmen arrived and it was installed just in time for the long weekend holiday; an Easter present to us all.
It was a great success from the first day.
From the moment my wife crossed the patio in the sunshine dressed in a white bikini, her shapely body stepping nervously but sexily towards me, I knew I was going to love it. We floated and chatted and touched each other under the water for a long time, my erection huge but blessedly concealed beneath the bubbles. The first time she stepped out of it, the water cascading from her lightly tanned body, her hair dark and falling down her back, I fell in lust all over again.
I lost count of the number of times Debbie and I made love in the tub over the next few months; sometimes on the wooden seat to the side, sometimes beneath the water. Hidden from prying eyes and especially when Hannah was away, we tried every idea that came to us.
It’s amazing how long a man can hold his breath if he’s giving a beautiful girl oral sex under the water. It’s amazing how long a girl can stay submerged with a man’s cock in her mouth. Debbie’s favourite trick was to strip off her bikini bottom under the water and straddle me as I sat on the submerged bench, teasing me cruelly as she lowered herself down onto my erect cock, taking control, riding me like a professional and rising on her knees if I was naughty enough to try and thrust upwards.
It brought a new and exciting dimension to our already very active sex.
Unfortunately, when she was home, my stepdaughter Hannah tended to monopolise the tub which put a severe damper on our aquatic adventures but with imagination we managed and in all, the tub was an inspired purchase.
***
It was a few months later and we had been celebrating. Debbie had just been made a Partner in her law firm – quite an achievement at her age – and we had asked a few friends round to help us mark the occasion.
The evening had gone well with champagne flowing, drinks and food in the garden and a great chance for us all to be glamorous for a while. Debbie had looked stunning in a short black cocktail dress, even Hannah had made an effort and had squeezed into a tight fitting green number that suited her colouring well and showed off her astonishingly long, skinny legs to powerful effect.
This effect was not lost on our guests, male and female, many of whom respectively admired and envied her youth and unselfconscious attractiveness. I was amused to see how on several occasions she found herself flirting unintentionally with some of the older men but to my surprise, none of the younger lads.
The evening passed happily; Debbie was seldom the centre of attention so at first was a little uncomfortable being the star of the show but a after few glasses of champagne and a large dose of obvious goodwill she was happy, relaxed and enjoying her good fortune.
As midnight approached and the air began to cool, the guests began to leave and the three of us began to relax, especially our new Junior Partner who by now had obviously enjoyed at least one glass of champagne more than was wise. Both she and Hannah were complaining of tired legs after three hours in ridiculously high heels and we all looked longingly at the hot tub, quickly coming to a unanimous decision to leave the clearing up to the morning and rushing inside to change into our swimming costumes.
Two minutes later, the three of us lay back in the hot water listening to the low hum of the motor and feeling the strong jets massage our legs and backs. Debbie had changed into the tight white bikini that accentuated her womanly curves and I loved to see her wearing. Hannah had donned her one-piece swimsuit, green of course, which tended to highlight the skinniness of her body and her near-absence of breasts and made her look much younger than her current eighteen years.
The warm water lapped around the three of us, the slow, atmospheric music that had been playing most of the evening seemed louder and more enveloping now that the guests had gone. I raised the plastic safety-glass of champagne to my lips and took a long sip, smiling as both Debbie and Hannah did the same.
“To our new Junior Partner!” I said, toasting my gorgeous, capable wife for the umpteenth time that night.
“To Mummy!” Hannah chorused, her words a little slurred.
“Just how much have you had to drink tonight?” Debbie asked her daughter in amusement, her own words slurred too.
“Just about… enough,” she replied cheekily, grinning and stretching out her long legs.
“Ouch!” I giggled as her toes collided with my inner thigh.
“Oops! Sorry!” Hannah raised a hand to her mouth in mock horror and brought her knees up under her chin so they stuck up out of the water.
A moment later I felt Debbie’s feet on my lap and began to stroke her calves and ankles beneath the bubbles as we tried to spot the constellations in the clear blackness of the sky above.
A short while later I felt Hannah’s feet join her mother’s and I stroked them both absent-mindedly, feeling the effects of the champagne. Debbie was clearly feeling it too because I could see her eyes closing in the low patio light, then opening wide in surprise as her face dipped into the water.
“I think our new Partner needs to go to bed,” I said after this had happened for a third time.
“What?” she asked, her voice definitely slurred.
“It’s bed time, Debs,” I smiled. My wife sighed.
“I suppose you’re right. I can’t keep my eyes open. But what about… all this?” she asked, waving her hand at the general untidiness in the garden.
“Hannah and I will bring it all inside tonight. We’ll clean up together in the morning.
“Sure you don’t mind?”
“Certain, right Hannah?” The ginger head nodded eagerly.
“No problem Mum, leave it to us,” she smiled.
“Thanks you two.
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I’m SOOOO tired!”
Placing her hands on the tub’s rim, Debbie lifted herself upright and climbed unsteadily out of the water. It cascaded from her womanly body making her skin look life damp velvet. I felt a swelling in my shorts as I watched her steady herself on the patio. She shivered momentarily in the cold air, then pulled a bathrobe around her and slipping on her flip flops, swayed towards the house.
“I think someone else has had ‘just enough’, too!” I laughed.
My lovely wife turned and, sticking her tongue out at us, flounced away, closing the back door behind her.
“I hope she doesn’t lock it,” Hannah said. I grinned.
“We’d look like two prunes if we stayed in here all night.”Hannah grinned back at me. “Oh well! I suppose we’d better get on with the tidying up then,” I said, preparing to stand up.
Suddenly Hannah’s hand was on my arm.
“Not just yet,” she insisted. “Let’s finish our drinks first. It’s too cold to get out now.”
Smiling, I lowered myself back into the steaming water and raised my legs so my heels rested on the bench at the far side of the tub. Hannah lifted her legs so that they rested across my upper thighs. I tickled her feet playfully.
“Don’t!” she laughed. “No please, don’t!”
I stopped tickling her and let my hand rest on her slender ankle which I began to stroke absent-mindedly under the warm water, sipping champagne with my other hand and listening to the silence on the night; a silence broken by the occasional owl hooting in the forest in the dark distance.
Hannah slid herself around the tub’s bench seat until she was sitting close up to me, her legs still across mine. I could feel the back of her thighs on my lap but thought nothing of it. My hands which had been stroking her ankles were now close to her knees and without thinking, I began to stroke her lower thighs instead.
“I love the first few weeks of summer,” she said softly. “It’s so… exciting! As if… anything could happen!” Her voice was low and slightly slurred as no doubt was my own.
“Just how much champagne HAVE you had?” I laughed and immediately regretted it as her beaming face turned to a frown.
“I’m not a child, you know,” she countered, her body stiffening.
” I know,” I said quietly, patting her thigh under the water. “It’s just hard to keep pace with the way you’ve grown since I first met you all those years ago.”
“You’re not that old yourself...
Placing her hands on the tub’s rim, Debbie lifted herself upright and climbed unsteadily out of the water. It cascaded from her womanly body making her skin look life damp velvet. I felt a swelling in my shorts as I watched her steady herself on the patio. She shivered momentarily in the cold air, then pulled a bathrobe around her and slipping on her flip flops, swayed towards the house.
“I think someone else has had ‘just enough’, too!” I laughed.
My lovely wife turned and, sticking her tongue out at us, flounced away, closing the back door behind her.
“I hope she doesn’t lock it,” Hannah said. I grinned.
“We’d look like two prunes if we stayed in here all night.”Hannah grinned back at me. “Oh well! I suppose we’d better get on with the tidying up then,” I said, preparing to stand up.
Suddenly Hannah’s hand was on my arm.
“Not just yet,” she insisted. “Let’s finish our drinks first. It’s too cold to get out now.”
Smiling, I lowered myself back into the steaming water and raised my legs so my heels rested on the bench at the far side of the tub. Hannah lifted her legs so that they rested across my upper thighs. I tickled her feet playfully.
“Don’t!” she laughed. “No please, don’t!”
I stopped tickling her and let my hand rest on her slender ankle which I began to stroke absent-mindedly under the warm water, sipping champagne with my other hand and listening to the silence on the night; a silence broken by the occasional owl hooting in the forest in the dark distance.
Hannah slid herself around the tub’s bench seat until she was sitting close up to me, her legs still across mine. I could feel the back of her thighs on my lap but thought nothing of it. My hands which had been stroking her ankles were now close to her knees and without thinking, I began to stroke her lower thighs instead.
“I love the first few weeks of summer,” she said softly. “It’s so… exciting! As if… anything could happen!” Her voice was low and slightly slurred as no doubt was my own.
“Just how much champagne HAVE you had?” I laughed and immediately regretted it as her beaming face turned to a frown.
“I’m not a child, you know,” she countered, her body stiffening.
” I know,” I said quietly, patting her thigh under the water. “It’s just hard to keep pace with the way you’ve grown since I first met you all those years ago.”
“You’re not that old yourself...
