The Postman of Upper Cockton Pt. 06 by SMFlint2021

Incest sex stories: The Postman of Upper Cockton Pt. 06 by SMFlint2021,

Rachel Bishop had always been a mystery even before our paths crossed. A nurse with Médecins Sans Frontières, she operated in some of the world’s toughest regions, her own tragic story unfolding just a year earlier when her parents perished in a house fire. With such a poignant background, most men would naturally feel compelled to lend her a helping hand. When Steve showed me a photo of a striking brunette in her late twenties, my initial reluctance vanished.

“Isn’t that Rachel Whatshername, the actress?” I squinted at the image of a well-dressed woman at a funeral.

“Many people mistake her for the actress at first glance. This is the real Rachel. See the difference?” Steve toggled between photos on his phone, and I had to admit they bore a striking resemblance. “So, Tom, will you do it? Will you look after her belongings until she can collect them? Or should she just give you an address to send everything?”

“Let’s slow down, Steve. You want me to buy this barn find Rover P5B Coupe from Rachel’s cousin, your wife, on the condition that I take several boxes of Rachel’s belongings with me for safekeeping until she picks them up later?” He nodded. “Why can’t she collect them from you?”

“Rachel and Jo-Jo, they’ve had issues since childhood. Jo-Jo won’t discuss the details with me. She doesn’t know I salvaged Rachel’s belongings when I rescued the car before the garage collapsed after the fire. Jo-Jo already accuses me of having a soft spot for Rachel.” I raised an eyebrow at Steve. “Alright, maybe I do. But I value a happy wife and a peaceful life. The car and all these belongings need to go today, as they say in the classifieds.”

I drove back to Upper Cockton with my latest restoration project loaded on the trailer. In the back seat sat several cardboard boxes containing Rachel Bishop’s remaining family possessions—mementos of a real-life angel who bore an uncanny resemblance to a Hollywood starlet. The curiosity about what lay inside those boxes matched my own, but I stashed them away in my storage room and promptly forgot about them. Soon, I immersed myself in restoring the classic 1960s saloon cherished by both police officers and criminals alike, including Justin, a modern-day financier with a dubious reputation.

It was two months later when Rachel called.

“Hello, is that Tom? Steve gave me your number. I’m Rachel Bishop. You are kindly looking after some boxes for me. I was hoping to contact you before now, but I’ve been in Sudan. It’s awful for innocent people caught up in the conflict.”

What was I going to do? Chew the woman out because saving lives was more of a priority than clearing my shelves. I said I understood, having been on several humanitarian missions when I was in the Royal Engineers. I told Rachael to enjoy her R and R in Paris and I’d see her in a few days.

A taxi deposited her and a small wheeled suitcase on the end of my path early next week. Rachael Bishop was stunning in person. Dressed in denim jeans, a white tee shirt and short leather jacket, she had a healthy tan on her face, hands, and feet. She pushed sun glasses onto her caramel-coloured hair and smiled. Rachel gave me a moment to compose myself. I reddened, realising she was giving me the once over as well.

“Hello Tom. I came over on the Eurostar. It took ages.”

I smiled. “Well, it’s a long train ride from Hollywood, Rachel.”

“Please Tom, stop it.” She blushed, even though she must have heard it many times before. “I brought you a thank you.” She presented a bottle of brandy she had been hiding behind her back.

“Thank you, Rachael. Aren’t I the lucky boy today? Come in and get settled. I’ll make some tea and you can go through your boxes.”

“You are very kind Tom. Most is from years ago. It will probably go to the charity shops.”

“Don’t be in a hurry. They can stay here until you are ready.”

She took my hand. It was an instinct thing until we became self-conscious of the contact. “That tea will not make itself. Take a seat at the big table.” I left her with her boxes and the teapot and retreated to the garage to give her some privacy.

Rachel found me a couple of hours later. She’d been crying, but gave me a happy smile. “Wow. The Rover is looking like new. My uncle Pete loved that car. Pete bought it from his old boss and ran it for a couple of years, but something broke and he never got round to fixing it. It sat in the garage for years.”

“I’ve had the engine out and replaced all the consumables. It’s had a new water pump and I’ve fixed the steering rack. It’s a common problem with P5s. Let’s take it around the block to check my repairs?”

I had no road tax or MOT, so we just did a couple of circuits the oval road that described Upper Cockton. I kept an eye out for Audrey and Barbara as an attractive young woman in my passenger seat, dabbing her tears was bound to demand an explanation at some point. Luck was with me and we pulled up on the drive again without incident.

“The engine sounds good Tom. Like a growling lion.”

“It’s a Buick V8, 3.5 lump. I’ve tuned the carbs. It might be too loud for Upper Cockton. The client wants it to sound like a well-dressed thug.”

Rachel laughed. “Thank you for giving me space, Tom. Most men see a woman crying and jump in with questions. They want it to stop.”

“Grieving is a difficult thing. Many men don’t know how to react. It’s instinct to try to save a damsel in distress. Well, the beautiful ones anyway. Blokes can let ugly women cry all day.”

“Tom! That’s a terrible thing to say.” I gave her a whimsical look. “It’s still terrible even if it’s true.”

In the living room, she’d sorted her memories into piles. “Keepers, charity donations, recycling and not sure if it’s valuable, but I don’t want it.” The keepers were mainly photographs.

I picked up the one on top of the pile. It showed Rachel as a preteen with two other kids and her mum and dad. “Nice family. You look like your mum. Your sisters look like your dad.”

She looked at me, and her tears started again. “We were happy once then…” Her mouth moved, but the words would not come.

“It’s okay, Rachael. You don’t have to say anything. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

The next thing she’s in my arms, clinging on for dear life. Her crying strikes an anguished note. I’m worried, but Rachel buried her face in my chest, so I just hold her and stroke her lovely hair and try to reassure her. “It’s all over Rachael. The past can’t hurt you now if you don’t let it.” She looked up. Saucer eyes overflowing. I wiped her tears with my thumb as they skated down her cheeks.

“Not so beautiful now, hey Tom?”

“I’ll cut you some slack because of previous good behaviour. ”

She gave a snotty laugh and found a tissue in her jeans. “I’m tired of lying. Why should I feel guilty about something that was beautiful, just because other people think differently? I want to tell you something Tom. Because I think you can listen and not judge me. Am I right?” I nodded. “Can you understand a loving relationship with someone society says you should not have that relationship with?”

I took the tissue and wiped her eyes. I knew what she was hinting at. It prompted me to share something I never thought I could say to someone outside our relationship, let alone a stranger I only met four hours before. “Rachel, I am in a wonderful relationship with a lady twenty years older than me. She could not have children and given our age gap, there is inevitably a maternal element, often when we are making love. We’re not related, but the sense of taboo excites us. I’ve found nothing comparable in a conventional relationship. I can imagine the intensity of a close family relationship.”

She searched my eyes to confirm the truth. “You know Tom. You understand. Thank God.” She kissed me. It started as a friendly kiss but built. Her tongue searched my mouth. My hands gripped her lovely arse and held her hips against me, so my hardness touched her lower belly. We pulled apart light headed. I looked for answers in her face.

“Tom, I want you to fuck me. I’m swimming in these knickers. But first I have to tell you everything. I’ve been stuck since they died. If you can help me get beyond this, I can get on with the rest of my life.”

“If that’s what you need from me, I’m happy to help.” I kissed her again. This girl had stirred me. I was glad she would not get cold feet.

“It’s a confession, Tom. Except I feel no guilt or shame. I make no apology for it. Can you face that?” I nodded. Rachel smiled. Her hand slid between us. “I don’t think I’ve had one this big before. What I’ve got to tell you might make him even bigger. Pour us a drink Tom.”

We were on the couch. Me sat up, Rachel laying across me. My hard on digging between her shoulders as she shrugged to get comfortable and laughed at my expression. We had two fingers of the brandy which gave a healthy glow to our faces and in our bellies. Rachel held a stack of photos and shuffled them, deciding where to start her story. She went back to the one I picked up.

“We are not a family. That’s me and my mum Julia, and Pete and his two girls, my cousins. That one is Jo-Jo. Mum and Pete are brother and sister. They became lovers when they were young and remained lovers all their lives, despite what it cost them, and us kids. But I don’t blame them. I envy them.” Rachel looked up.

Perhaps she feared anger, or disgust, but all she saw was a smile. “Tell me how it happened Rachel. I want to understand.”

She leaned up and kissed me. “I knew I was right.”

“Mum and Dad divorced soon after this was taken. Pete and his wife followed the next year. I wonder if their partners could see what was going on between brother and sister in this picture. Anyway, once they divorced, there was nothing to stop Pete and Julia from getting back together, except me that is.”

“What did they stop for all those years?”

“They were each other’s first loves. They had girlfriends and boyfriends during their teens, but couldn’t find anyone they felt the same for. Pete went into the Navy for ten years to get away from it. Mum was married with a child when he returned. He married and started a family. We all went on holiday together for several years. This is us camping on the Isle of Wight.”