The Secret Pleasures of Folly Manor
Craving a Chapter 1 dive into raw desire? Chapter 2 heats up the tension. Jump to Chapter 3 for the first forbidden touch. Chapter 4 unleashes the storm. Chapter 5 explores deeper secrets. Chapter 6 seals the filthy pact. 🔥
Shadows of the Old Manor
Rain lashed the cracked pavement outside the corner hardware store, the kind of downpour that soaked through your jacket in seconds. Ryan wiped water from his brow, eyes scanning the bulletin board plastered with faded notices. Bills for sale. Lost dogs. Then, tucked in the corner, a handwritten card: “Handyman needed for odd jobs around estate. Cash paid. Tools provided if needed. Call Victor.”
He punched the number into his phone right there, sheltering under the awning. A gravelly voice answered, directions followed—out past the suburbs, up a winding drive lined with overgrown oaks. Ryan’s truck rattled along the gravel path to Folly Manor, a sprawling Victorian heap with peeling paint and sagging porches. He’d been scraping by since the garage laid him off, his mechanic skills gathering dust. This gig? Perfect timing.
The door creaked open before he knocked. Sophia stood there, mid-forties, curves that strained her simple blouse and skirt. Dark hair cascaded in loose waves, framing a face flushed from the kitchen heat. “You must be Ryan. Come in from this mess.”
Inside, the air hung heavy with woodsmoke and baking bread. Victor wheeled in from the hall, broad-shouldered even in his chair, salt-and-pepper hair cropped short. Car wreck two years back, he’d explain later—legs useless below the hips, but his grip on the chair arms was iron. They sat in the cavernous living room, fire crackling, as Sophia poured coffee thick as mud.
“Pipes groaning like old ghosts,” Victor said, voice low. “Windows sticking. Garage needs fixing before winter bites. Can’t pay top dollar, but meals included. Stay as long as it suits.”
Ryan nodded, outlining his skills—wrenching engines, patching leaks. Sophia’s eyes lingered on his tattooed forearms, the way his damp shirt clung to his runner’s build. Lean muscle, not bulky, five-eleven, with a jaw shadowed by stubble. He caught the look, filed it away.
By evening, tools unpacked in the guest shed, he’d cleared a clogged gutter. Mud squelched underfoot, the scent of wet earth mixing with Sophia’s faint lavender soap as she handed him a towel. “Dinner’s stew—beef, real hearty.”
That night, alone in his truck cab, Ryan wondered about the undercurrent. Victor’s easy laugh hid frustration. Sophia’s hips swayed a touch too inviting. But jobs first. Secrets could wait.
Whispers in the Workshop
Days blurred into sweat and solder. Ryan tore into the garage first—a cavernous barn-like space stacked with rusting auto parts from Victor’s racing days. The man had been a hotshot driver, sponsorships and all, until the crash shattered that life. Now, Ryan rebuilt the hoist, grease black under his nails, while Victor watched from the doorway, barking tips.
Sophia brought sandwiches at noon, her full breasts brushing his shoulder as she leaned over the workbench. “You’re a godsend,” she murmured, breath warm on his neck. Plump thighs in those tight jeans, a roll of belly soft under her sweater. Ryan, thirty-two and single, hadn’t bedded anyone since the breakup. Her nearness stirred him, cock twitching against his thigh.
One afternoon, Victor headed out for therapy, his adapted SUV humming away. Sophia found Ryan under the sink, ass up in the air. “Need a hand?” Her voice dripped honey.
He slid out, wiping sweat. She perched on the counter, skirt riding high, exposing creamy thighs dimpled just right. “Victor’s tough, but the accident… changed everything. He was insatiable before. Fucked like a machine. Me, the track bunnies, bar sluts. I knew. Pushed him toward them sometimes.”
Ryan’s pulse hammered. The kitchen smelled of lemon polish and her musk. “And now?”
She hesitated, fingers tracing the counter’s edge. “He tries. Fingers, tongue. But I crave more. A real pounding cock, secret from the world. Ours alone.” There it was—the first secret, hanging like smoke.
“You’re serious.”
“Deadly. He’s okay with it. Wants me filled, stretched. Watch if he must. Your call, Ryan. No pressure.” Her eyes dropped to his crotch, where his hard-on strained the denim.
He swallowed. “Talk to Victor first.”
She laughed, throaty. “Tomorrow. Fix the loft ladder tonight? Dinner after.” 💋
Up in the loft, amid dusty crates, Ryan hammered new rungs, mind racing. The secret offer gnawed at him—filthy, wrong, intoxicating. Victor returned late, clapped him on the back. “Good work, son. Sophia mentioned our chat.”
“Yeah. Abnormal as hell.”
Victor grinned, eyes sharp. “Life’s short. She’s a volcano. You game?”
Ryan slept fitful that night, dreams of soft flesh and wheelchair shadows.
The First Forbidden Thrust
Victor’s next appointment loomed. “Take care of her,” he said, wheeling to the door. Ryan showered in the guest bath, soap sluicing over his toned chest, cock already half-hard at the thought. Clean jeans, fresh tee. Upstairs, Sophia waited naked on the four-poster bed, firelight dancing on her skin.
God, she was a feast. Forty-five, curves for days—massive tits like ripe melons, heavy and pendulous, dark nipples thick as thumbs. Belly pooched soft, hips wide enough to birth armies. Below, a wild thicket of auburn curls hid her slit, thighs thunderous and smooth. No shame, just hunger.
“Cleaned up nice,” she purred, spreading her legs slow. The air thickened with her arousal, tangy and ripe, like overripe peaches.
Ryan stripped deliberate, folding clothes neat—habit from army days. His body? Wired tight, abs ridged, cock springing free at seven inches, veined and angry purple, balls heavy below trimmed pubes.
She pulled him down, tits smothering his face, soft as pillows laced with steel. He sucked a nipple, milk-sweet skin, her moan vibrating through him. Hands roamed her ass—enormous globes, yielding like dough, cellulite adding grip.
“Eat me, Ryan. Been starving.”
He dove in, knees sinking into the mattress. Her pussy bloomed under his tongue—fat outer lips parting to slick pink folds, clit hooded and swelling fast. He lapped broad strokes, tasting salt and nectar, her thighs clamping his ears like warm vices. Fingers delved her hole, hot and velvety, clenching greedy.
“Fuck, yes! Right there, you bastard!” She bucked, juices flooding his chin, scent overwhelming—musky, feminine fury.
Orgasm ripped her first, body quaking, cries echoing off beams. “Don’t stop—god, your tongue’s a weapon!” Another peaked quick, her nails raking his scalp.
He climbed her, cock nudging her sopping entrance. One push, and he sank balls-deep, her cunt gripping like a fist in velvet. “So fucking tight,” he groaned, despite her size.
Slow grinds first, savoring the drag, her walls fluttering. She wrapped legs around, heels digging his ass. Faster now, slap of flesh, bed creaking protest. Sweat slicked them, her tits bouncing wild, slapping his chest.
“Harder! Pound my married pussy!” Crude words fueled him. He hammered, balls smacking her ass, her clit grinding his pubes. She shattered again, wailing, milking him dry. Cum erupted, flooding her depths, hot spurts painting her womb.
They collapsed, panting, her heart thundering under his ear. “Perfect,” she whispered. “Our little secret now.” He stirred inside her, spent but alive.
Afterglow Confessions
Post-fuck haze lingered. Sophia traced his scars—bike wreck souvenirs. “Victor’s wrecked too. Crashed endorsing some car stunt. Legs gone, dick mostly limp. But his mind? Filthy as ever.”
“He really wants this?”
“Begs for it. Jerked thinking about you today.” She laughed, rolling atop him briefly, weight deliciously crushing.
Door rattled below. Victor home. Ryan dressed hasty, cock slick with their mess. Downstairs, Victor poured whiskey, eyes twinkling. “Heard the symphony. Encore?”
Watched and Ravaged
Next dawn, Ryan tackled the porch railings, hammer swinging. Sophia sidled up mid-morning, robe loose. “Garage. Now.”
Oil and rubber scented the space, tools scattered. Victor wheeled in silent, positioning by the workbench. No words needed—their twisted pact in motion.
Sophia dropped the robe, naked glory. “Show him, Ryan. Fuck your boss’s wife.” She bent over the hood of Victor’s old race car, ass high, cheeks spreading to reveal her puckered hole and dripping gash.
Ryan unzipped, cock raging. Victor’s breath quickened, hand palming his crotch. Ryan spat on her ass, thumb circling the rosebud. “Ever take it here?”
“Victor’s specialty. Stretch me, stud.”
He plunged her pussy first, brutal strokes shaking the car. Springs squealed. “Look at her take it,” Victor growled. “Wider, slut.”
Sophia shoved back, tits dragging cold metal. “Yes, watch your whore get bred!” Ryan yanked out, slick cock prodding her ass. Lube from a toolbox bottle, then in—tight ring yielding slow, her screams raw pleasure-pain.
Inches vanished, her bowels hot and rippling. Victor moaned, freeing a semi-hard dick, stroking frantic. Ryan reamed her shithole, balls-deep destruction, hand fisting her hair. Smack of skin, her farts around his girth, filthy symphony.
“Cum in my ass! Fill the secret hole!” She exploded, shitting squirt a bit—messy, taboo bliss. Ryan unloaded, ropes jetting deep, pulling out to watch it bubble white.
Victor spurted weak on his lap, groaning approval. Sophia spun, licking Ryan clean, ass still winking cum. “More. Always more.” 🔥
Garage Revelations
Cleaning up, sweat and spend mixing with motor oil tang. Victor clapped Ryan’s shoulder. “Knew you’d wreck her right. She’s yours now—payment for the sweat.”
Sophia kissed Victor tender, then Ryan fierce. “Our filthy family.”
Midnight Cravings Unleashed
Weeks deepened the rut. Ryan bunked in the shed now, tools his daytime alibi. Nights? Carnal marathons.
One storm-lashed evening, new scene: the old conservatory, glass steaming. Vines tangled, humidity thick like a jungle fuck-den. Sophia oiled up, body gleaming. “Tie me. Make it hurt.”
Ryan bound her wrists to a beam with extension cord, tits thrust out. Crop from the barn—Victor sourcing props. Whips cracked her ass red, welts blooming. She begged, pussy drooling strands to the stone floor.
“Punish the cheating cow!” Victor filmed discreet, cock dribbling pre.
Ryan flogged tits, clamped nipples purple. Then throat-fucked her, gagging slurps, spit ropes dangling. Bent her double, ass and pussy stuffed—his cock alternating holes, fisting the free one. Squirts arced, soaking tiles, piss mixing in frenzy.
“Drink it, pig!” He pissed her open mouth mid-orgasm, her gulping eager, belly swelling slight. Victor joined verbal, “Swallow his piss, my dirty bitch!”
Trio peaked chaotic—Ryan painting her face ropes, Victor’s handjob tribute on her tits. Collapse in puddle, laughs amid gasps.
“This secret life’s everything,” Sophia sighed, cum mask cracking smile.
Emotional Undercurrents
Post-bliss, cracks showed. Victor confessed guilt flashes. “Hate needing this. But love her screams.”
Ryan felt the pull—not just pussy, but their broken bond. “Worth it. For all.”
Eternal Filth Pact
New conflict brewed: Sophia’s ex-flame, a burly trucker, sniffed around. Jealousy flared. Ryan confronted in the woods behind manor—new outdoor scene, leaves crunching, birdcalls mocking.
“Mine now,” Ryan snarled, pinning her to a oak trunk. Rough bark scraped her back as he rutted savage, no prep. Pussy tore around him, blood-tinged slick. “Scream for your secret lover!”
She did, howls scattering wildlife. Victor watched hidden, approving the claim. Trucker fled town days later, rumors of a beating.
Climax night: Master bedroom orgy. Sophia airtight—Ryan throat, Victor’s rare hard-on weak in ass while fingers worked pussy. Swapped endless, every hole creamed multiple loads. Butts, cunts, mouths overflowing. Dawn found them wrecked, sheets ruined.
“Forever our secret,” Victor toasted whiskey. Sophia curled between, hand on Ryan’s spent cock. Ryan stayed, handyman no more—guardian of their endless debauchery.
The manor held them tight, storms raging outside, pleasures eternal within. 💋🔥
