L

ate yesterday the local logging company had dropped a load of logs off by my property entrance, I had decided that they could wait until this morning to be moved. And now, it was this morning. I dressed in a bra, knickers, dungarees, steel toe cap boots and grabbed the buggy and headed over to the mill to get the skid steer. As I drove along my tracks I idly mused, wondering why the Americans called the buggy a 'side by side'. That description would apply to most vehicles, certainly those that drove on public roads. I had no clue and just put it down to one of those inexplicable differences between us.

I left the buggy in front of the sawmill shed, and let the Skid steer warm up as I oiled and greased the various nipples and checked the fluids, it always seemed to use so much more grease than anything else I owned, and I decided that I would go into town in the week and pick up another case of grease cartridges. I trundled to the entrance and looked at what had been left. Eight Beech trunks just inside my entrance, each about nine feet long and a good twenty inches or more round. I could carry two at a time with the skid steer.

I picked up the first two and headed back to the mill, I had some dunnage set up to keep the logs off the ground and I would paint each end with Anchorseal to stop the wood splitting and deter insects getting in at the end. There was a furniture maker a few miles away that had told me he would always buy top quality sawn beech from me. It would be a couple of months before I sawed the trunks, and I needed to keep it in as good a condition as I could.

Four trips done and the beech was stored and the ends sealed. I sat and had a drink of coffee from my flask and looked at my wood store. A good amount of pine, I decided that I would mill some pine today, mostly into four by twos, and the thinning's I could use for stickers to keep the cut timbers apart to ease drying. I also ought to cut some four by ones to make myself some storage pallets, so it could be quite a busy day on the mill.

The first pine log loaded and the mill ready, I raised the headstock and ran the first run, not cutting, just to get my eye in and makes sure that everything I thought would miss, did actually miss. Happy that my set up was good, I brought the head stock back and set up for my first cut. I usually took four cuts, ninety degrees apart to remove the outer layer and start squaring up the log. These first four off cuts I was storing for later use as rough cut boardings for any buildings I would assemble, an idea I had gotten from a wonderful guy called Andris in Estonia, my take on Yorkshire Boarding.

The second cut on each side would then go through the edger to remove the wain and give me square edge timber, the second and subsequent cuts were a nominal two-inch thickness, the most commonly used size and popular with my customers. Sometimes I was asked for four-inch boards, usually by people wanting to make heavy furniture or replace decking in trailers. But they were special orders, I rarely kept any of that in stock, and I had no plans to do any today.

The first four cuts taken, I pushed the off cuts onto the forks on my skid steer and took them to the storage pile to add to the others, building up a stock for later use. Back to the mill and I started taking two-inch cuts and soon had twelve cuts ready for further treatment. As I began stacking the square edge timber on to the skidsteer drops of rain started falling, making a percussive ping sound on the tin roof of the mill.

I had looked at the forecast earlier and it had said a possibility of thunderstorms, and that was fine, but there were plenty of tall trees around to attract lightening, and I really did not want to be in the vicinity of a strike should it happen, and happen it did, there was plenty of evidence in my forest of trees having been struck. They always taught you, do not shelter under a tree in a thunderstorm. Well, here I was under several thousand of them.

The rain became heavier and heavier, and the ground outside the milling shed began to puddle, the rainfall too heavy for the ground to absorb. The rain was now beating loudly on the roof, and where the drops hit something solid they were bouncing up around six or seven feet, this was the heaviest rain that I had ever seen, and it showed no signs of abating.

I almost jumped out of my skin as a huge flash of lightning followed almost instantly by a peal of deafening thunder filled the sky above me, I did not want to be in this place. I was wearing dungarees, they would be soaked and slow me down, and take absolutely ages to dry. I sat on the mill and took my toetector boots off and then my dungarees. I was stood in bra and knickers. I put my clothes, such as they were, on the saw deck to collect tomorrow.

I slipped my boots back on, although I wasn't too sure about wearing steel toe capped boots in a thunderstorm, but I had no other footwear here, I determined I would bring a spare pair of wellies to keep here, and as the thunder crashed above me I made a run for the buggy, diving in under its shelter and quickly starting the motor. I had no time for niceties of letting the machine warm up. I was soaking wet and half blinded by the brightness of the lightning, not to mention half deafened by the thunder that was directly above me.

Soaked to the skin I headed off back, large and deep puddles covering the track from the mill to the house, the volume of water far exceeding the ability of my tracks to absorb or disperse the water. Pulling up right next to the house I ran from the buggy and unlocked my door falling inside utterly soaked, my knickers and bra feeling heavy with the water. I stripped them off and dropped them on the floor by the front door.

I hurried to my bedroom and turned the ensuite shower on and got under the warm water, getting the chill of the autumn rain out of my body. I stood as the warm water cascaded over me, added some shampoo to my hair and gave it a quick wash, standing until the water ran bubbles free before exiting the shower. I put my thick dressing gown on and went back to the kitchen to make a hot drink. I picked my sodden bra and knickers up from by the front door, ignoring my boots, they could just wait.

As the kettle boiled I squeezed as much water as I could out of my underwear and threw them in the washing machine, I would add to them later and do a load, I wasn't putting the machine on for just two items. The thunderstorm raged above me, it didn't seem to be moving away, the rain was biblical, and I was glad I wasn't trying to build a big boat in that storm.

I opened my front door and looked out. I couldn't see far, the rain was so heavy that it was like looking through tracing paper, the road to my house was just a lake, inches deep, and in danger of penetrating the property if it rose much more. I had thought that I had enough rise above the approaches, it seems I may have been wrong on that score. We seemed to get a lot of once in a hundred years storms these days.

Lights from a vehicle came towards the house, someone was coming, I don't think I would have been out in this weather, and I certainly wasn't going out into the storm to greet whoever it was, it had already drenched me once, and that was enough. As the car appeared through the rain I realised it was Dad's Volvo. He pulled up behind my buggy and ran to the house, I stepped aside and he dived through my open door.

"Bloody nora Amelia, that is a hell of a storm, I could hardly see where I was driving, and as I was near to you I though it best to ride the storm out here. I am soaked to the skin just running from the car."

"Get your wet clothes off Dad, and I will see what I can do with them, go and grab a shower to warm up and then put your dressing gown on."

Dad stripped in front of me, everything was wet. "No point in traipsing through your house in wet clothes baby, " he said as his underpants joined the pile. He padded off to the guest room he usually uses, there was a dressing gown, but no spare clothes, and I am a fair bit smaller than Dad, none of my clothes would fit him, not even a pair of my knickers. He would either have to put wet clothes back on or wait until I had managed to dry them. The room he used had a couple of dressing gowns in the wardrobe, Dad sized and Mum sized, for them to use when they stayed.

In the kitchen I added dad's clothes to the washing machine and set them for a rinse, I could then spin them and put them in the tumble dryer, they would be wearable in about three hours. Until then he would have to live in his dressing gown, as I was in mine, although I did have the benefit of a selection of clothes I could wear. The storm was raging above us; I went and opened the front door and looked out again. The clouds were an almost constant light show, the lightning bolts dancing horizontally across the sky, the thunder deafening and a little frightening.

I felt Dad's arms around me as he hugged me, looking over my shoulder at the apocalyptic storm, the water levels seemed to maintain at about an inch below encroaching the house, it seemed the run off could manage the downpour, but it was a close run thing, I would have to have a close look and see if there was anything I could do to improve drainage before the next storm, but not now.

"It's a bad one baby, " Dad said softly into my ear, "we never had a weather warning that I saw."

"Just had one as you were arriving Dad, it came up on my phone, 'Severe Warning, localised flooding, ' it said. No kidding, I am almost underwater and I am on high ground."

"Yes baby, the roads were flooding, that is why I sought refuge here. Give it chance to drain away. I better phone your mum and tell her where I am, hopefully she will be alright, her ankle is still playing up, but me trying to get home is not a good move just now."

Dad moved away, I was surprised how comforting his hug had felt, and I turned my attention back to the sky. The clouds were in a turmoil, blacks and dark greys, bright flashes of lightening still screeching across the sky giving what little light there was. Hopefully my trees would survive, the lightning didn't seem to be touching down, just flying across the sky. In the rare moments of no lightening, everywhere was dark as if at late dusk and not the middle of an autumn day as it actually was. Dad came back and his arms returned.

"Mary's okay, " he said, "She can get around if she needs to, but is just sitting quietly watching tv. She said that she know that I will be okay here, luckily it doesn't appear to be as heavy at home as it is here, so hopefully she will be fine."

I stepped back and shut the door, "Let's sit in the conservatory Dad, we can still see the storm, but it will be a bit warmer."

As we were walking through the house to the conservatory my phone pinged. A text message from Mum.

'Hello darling, perhaps you could look after George for me whilst he is with you, I am rather out of commission at the moment xx'

What the heck did she mean, I sent her a '?' reply.

'downstairs, you know what I mean. Xx'

'as in, in the bedroom?' I replied, I wanted no mistaken misunderstanding.

'Yes Amelia, thank you, my ankle hurts too much for what George needs'

Good God, my mind was boggling, did she know that Dad and I shagged sometimes, especially when he was here on his own? I guessed that she must know, and now she was asking me to shag him on her behalf, and letting me know that I had her approval.

"If it comes up Mum then yes of course' I sent back, without intending the obvious pun.

Dad looked at me and raised an eyebrow, I didn't say anything, texts come and go all the time, the likelihood was that it was nothing to do with him. "Actually Dad, " I said, "I'll make some coffee I think, I'll bring it through." I left Dad heading for the conservatory and I went into the kitchen and flicked the Gaggia on. I took two insulated mugs from the rack and put them next to the machine ready for use.

I set the Gaggia for two coffees, put the mugs under the spouts and pressed go. There was the sound of grinding and before long the coffee was dripping through the spouts and the wonderful aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. Done, I wiped the machine and took the coffees out to the conservatory. Dad was sitting in the cane armchair, I passed him his coffee and then sat on the cane sofa opposite.

The storm was still raging, it didn't seem to be moving, perhaps it had stalled over us. I guess for the county perspective that was better, the heavy rain falling on wooded ground and farmland, rather than over the tarmacked and concreted towns, where there was little opportunity for water to run away.

The panels in the conservatory roof were obscure so we couldn't get a clear sight of the storm directly above us, but we could see through the clear windows and the lightning was still dancing all around. The ground behind the house was as saturated as the front with huge swathes of standing water.

"If it were a warm summer storm, think of the fun you could have out there, " Dad said, his dressing gown beginning to rise.

"Would you really want to be out there in a thunderstorm Dad, summer or not" I answered, I was pretty sure I wouldn't. But take the thunder away and yes, it could be fun cavorting in the puddles.

Dad's focus wasn't on the storm, he was looking at me, specifically my crotch, as I glanced down at where his eyes were aimed I realised that my dressing gown had parted, and I was displaying the goods. It seems I was subliminally helping Mum. What was I like?

"No Dad, " I said, "I think I would prefer the dryness of my bedroom, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, " Dad said, his eyes very definitely focussing on my crease, "well yes, right now, I absolutely would."

"Prefer my bedroom?" I asked raising my eyebrows.

"Yes baby, after all, your dressing gown is revealing the promise of a much more attractive proposition than that storm outside." Dad undid the sash on his gown and pulled it apart, his dick was hard and pointing upwards, it too showed promise. Should I tell him that Mum had basically pimped me out to him? Perhaps after, certainly not before.

I stood up and took my half finished mug of coffee into the kitchen and tipped the coffee down the sink and put the mug on the drainer for washing. Dad had followed me, and he did the same. In my bedroom I pulled back the quilt and took my gown off to hang on the hook on my door, Dad was already naked, his gown on my bedroom chair. Dad sat on the bed and then lifted his legs and was laying on his back waiting for me to join him.

Dad and I shagging wasn't a given; we had, on a few occasions, but it wasn't as if Dad would visit me just to get a shag, sometimes it happened, sometimes it didn't. Mum had obviously worked it out, I guessed she didn't see me as a threat, I hoped she didn't, I absolutely was not, and sort of boyfriend Jeremy was still in the periphery, and if things grew and became more serious between us, then I didn't need any complications with Dad.

I knelt on the bed and moved my head to Dad's groin, I licked the end of his dick and smiled as Dad made one of those groans that only happen due to sexual pleasure; I may have made them myself before now. I pulled his foreskin down revealing his glans and pushed my tongue at the hole in its end, and then as Dad's bum lifted off the mattress, I sucked his dick into my mouth and raised my leg so that I was straddling Dad with my fanny inches from his face.

I began to bob up and down applying light suction, my tongue sliding along his shaft and to his glans, Dad squirmed and then he must have realised what was before him and I felt his fingers explore my crease, although, as my legs were apart, my crease was more of a valley as my lips were apart. I shivered in delight as Dad's fingernail slipped between my labia and ran along my valley floor, crossing my urethra and grazing my nubbin.

I opened my fingers and held his balls, squeezing gently and nipping his glans with my teeth, Dad squirmed again as I inflicted mild pain, his buttocks squeezing as if gripping the mattress would ease the discomfort. His finger moved from my nubbin, slowly passing through my petals and finding my entrance, circling and then pressing inside, my fanny walls parting allowing his intrusion.

I released his balls and eased my mouth from his dick, raising my hips causing Dad's finger to slide out of me. I lifted my leg and flipped onto my back next to Dad. He sat up and bent to my crotch, blowing along my crease. He raised his leg and covered me, his dick only inches from my face. He lowered his head and I felt his tongue slide between my lips, sliding passed my very wet labia, his dick lowering and nudging against my mouth.

I have been with women in the past, and I know the feeling of a tongue sliding in between labia, and I knew the sensations that Dad was experiencing, and yes, it was rather like eating oysters, but, in my opinion, much preferable to oysters. As Dad enjoyed my fanny I took his dick into my mouth, his crinkle pulsing, almost opening and closing, as I sucked the end of his dick. I was tempted to stimulate his prostate, but at that moment Dad found my nubbin and all thoughts of others were banished.

I gasped quite loudly around his dick, my fingers crunched the bedding and my mouth opened, Dad's dick still inside. I could feel pulses of pleasures flowing as Dad gently worked my nubbin, his years of experience giving me massive moments of pleasure, he knew his way around a fanny.

I gave no mind to his dick, all I could think about was the streams of pure delight coursing around my body, the pressures that were building in my groin and the electrics that were fizzing and popping between my thighs, Dad was really working me. A finger on my fourchette, another on my perineum, slight movement and my entrance was being circled. My petals parted and fingers slowly entered me. I felt the small internal stretch as his fingers parted my fanny walls.

Dad's dick started to move, he was shagging my mouth as his fingers shagged my fanny. Deeper he went, passing my tonsils, his fingers pressing deeper into my fanny, I was being consumed. I closed my mouth around his dick and felt it slide over my tongue, felt it press passed my throat and I knew I was being totalled.

Dad began to move his fingers in and out, his fingers synchronised with his dick, the sensations were overwhelming, pleasures were flowing, I did not know which were the greater, I was gasping as I tried to suck on his dick, my fanny was constricting around his fingers, my back was rising, my heels pressing into the mattress and my pressures erupted, my orgasm exploded and I shrieked around his dick, my head snapping back freeing my mouth to scream.

I was gasping, my fanny clamping his fingers hard, my buttocks tight, my lungs empty as slowly I came down, my fanny relaxing its grip, my cheeks parting and my back relaxing back onto the bed. His fingers eased from my fanny and he rolled onto his side next to me, his eyes glinting, his mouth full of a smile.

"Good one baby?" he asked.

"So, so Dad, so, so, " I replied between gasps as Dad laughed. He knew that had been a big one, he was no green horn. The thunder was still rolling and rumbling around although the gap between flashes and bangs did seem to be lengthening, perhaps the storm was moving away. I got off the bed and looked out of the window, the rain did seem to be slightly lighter, it had been close, but it seemed the weather was giving us some respite. Perhaps we wouldn't be flooded after all.

"Let's have a coffee Dad, " I said as I headed off to the kitchen. As the machine began to grind the beans I went and opened the front door and looked out. Cracks of thunder still rumbled around the trees and through the forest, the water outside had stayed around an inch from overwhelming, I had been saved from a watery devastation. Dad's arms snaked around me, his dick pressing between my buttocks as we stood and looked at the declining apoplectic storm.

"Not today God, " I said into the rainfall, "not today, your best wasn't bad enough." I could feel Dad's dick pressing hard between my buttocks, both of us naked in my open doorway in what had appeared to be the storm of the century. I bent forward and Dad dipped and his dick slid beneath me and rubbed across my fourchette. I reached down, lined him up and backed onto his dick, my hands bracing us on the door frame, our shagging accompanied by the percussive beats of the rain.

I felt Dad push inside me, his girth widening my fanny, his foreskin sliding along his shaft, the rim of his glans scraping my walls as he reached my depths. A massive streak of lightning flew front to back across the house, its peel of thunder making me jump and my fanny clamped hard on Dad's dick, he groaned in pleasure, I gasped as his dick jerked inside me.

The rain began falling very heavily again, the drops bouncing up several feet where they landed on a flat hard surface, I was beginning to worry that the water would rise, but for the moment all that was rising were my pressures. My pleasures were flowing, travelling out in rivers from my groin, reaching my toes, tickling my ears and tweaking my nipples. My mouth was open as Dad shagged in and out, deeper and harder, my fingers gripping hard on the door jamb, nails threatening to dick into the hard wood surround.

I pushed back as Dad thrust forwards, our shagging in synchronicity, moving against natures percussion, the cracks of thunder getting louder again, the flashes of lightening streaking horizontally above the houses, the most intense thunderstorm I have ever encountered, juxtaposed against the shag it was almost the most pleasurable too, certainly the most exhilarating.

Almost unheard over the noise of the storm were my gasps as dad thrust in, his pubis slapping against my buttocks, his shagging getting more intense, my electrics threatening to start a storm of their own between my legs. "Let me kneel Dad, " I gasped, the pain of our position was beginning to approach the pleasure. Dad eased back and his dick fell from my fanny, the gurgle unheard in the sound of the storm.

I dropped to my knees ready but Dad turned me over so that I was on my back. He pushed my legs up towards my boobs, I was almost bent in double, and he bent down, lined his dick up and pushed, his arms holding my legs back. I gasped, his penetration was much deeper and my pleasures ramped up beyond where they were before our pause. Dad was thrusting hard and the slaps as he hit against my skin were almost lost by the sounds of the storm, but not qute.

The rain wasn't hitting us directly but many of the splashes and rebounds were, and they were adding to my stimulations, cool touches, feeling like pin pricks as they landed. Dad's dick was thrusting in deep, my back a little pained by the flooring of my porch, my pleasures flowing madly, pressures building and my lungs gasping for air.

"Yes baby, yes, " Dad called out over the storm and he thrust in harder and deeper and held, his spunk splashing inside me, flooding me as the storm was flooding my land. My pressures released and my pleasures let go, flowing throughout my body, my shrieks joining the sounds of the storm as my orgasms exploded through me. Dad released my legs and I lay them back down, easing the pressure on my back. Dad moved and as my fanny squeezed and spasmed, his dick slid from me, dollops of his spunk dripping out on to my porch floor.

"Coffee now I think, " Dad said as he stood up, holding his hand out to help me to my feet. I stood up, dripping both from the rain and from Dad's deposits falling from my fanny.

"If Mum asks how you got on, don't lie, " I said to Dad.

"Oh?" He replied and I showed him Mum's messages.

"Oh Lord, how does she know these things?" He asked.

"We women always do Dad, we always do."