Date: Sat, 30 Nov 2013 11:02:13 -0800 (PST)
From: Harrison Westbourne <harrisonwestbourne@yahoo.com>
Subject: WESTBRIDGE SPIRIT: CHAPTER 3

I thank you for your continued interest in my stories.  This is the third
installment of WESTBRIDGE SPIRIT.  Please continue to look for more
chapters of this tale to come.  Thank you for your interest and support.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a fantasy involving consensual gay sex between
young men and older men, as well as love among men, and some paranormal
activity.  The people in the story do not use protection because diseases
do not exist here.  In real life, PLEASE ALWAYS USE PROTECTION WHEN
ENGAGING IN SEXUAL ACTIVITY.  Also, if this sort of material offends you,
is illegal where you live, or you are under 18 years of age, PLEASE LEAVE
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If you enjoy this story please visit my other story at
http://west.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/daryls-enlightenment/

Brief recap of Chapter 2 of WESTBRIDGE SPIRIT

Breaking our mutual activity, I softly begged him to fuck me.  Richard
moved me on my back and proceeded to tongue my hole until I couldn't stand
any more.  With a tenderness I had not experienced in the months since
Theo's passing, he entered me inch by inch filling me to the brink as he
bottomed out.  Once inside, he leaned down to kiss me before starting a
long, slow, intense fuck session.  This lasted for almost ten minutes until
I exploded all over both of us.  As I came, Richard screamed, pushed in
completely, and unloaded inside me.  Taking a few minutes to recover, we
went to the bathroom, cleaned up, and returned to bed for our nap.

WESTBRIDGE SPIRIT: CHAPTER THREE (3)

As safe as I felt wrapped in Richard's loving arms, my mind was plagued by
unearthly images and "memories."  It was as if I was watching a past life
or a B-movie about reincarnation.  Everything felt so real that I was
convinced I had actually experienced it.  I rarely remember my dreams or
nightmares but this one was so strong that I could recall the most minute
details.

The vision began in the same room where I was now sleeping.  Looking around
at the décor, it seemed to be closer to the date that the house was
built than now.  A huge, carved mahogany bed with an emerald green quilt
and white pillows dominated the room.  On one wall stood a matching
mahogany armoire with the same delicate woodland carving motif.  The other
wall had a long, low mahogany dresser with a mirror attached at the center
point.  On the floor was a delicately woven Oriental rug in shades of white
and gray with black accents.  Thick, brocade curtains of gold covered both
windows and puddled on the floor.  A small, mahogany chest with embroidered
cushion stood at the foot of the bed.

The room was filled with the smells of a man's cologne and pipe tobacco.
It seemed as though I had spent many hours, if not years, inside this very
room.  I walked to the closet and opened it to find a neatly arranged
assortment of suits, slacks, jackets, and other men's clothing of a much
earlier era.  Shoes were located on shelves below each suit and were
apparently meant to be matched with each other.  Against one side were a
series of drawers that held ties, suspenders and such. Two drawers, which
had locks but were open, held a wide variety of jewelry, including watches,
rings, cuff links and other such baubles.

As I turned to exit the closet, I ran smack into a tall, auburn-haired man.
He easily stood 6 feet tall and his body was trim, but obviously muscular.
His eyes were the most piercing shade of blue I had ever seen and his smile
seemed to ignite the sun.  The image seemed so familiar and I found myself
magnetically drawn to him as though we meant something to one another.
Just as he leaned down to kiss me, my alarm clock rang and I was yanked
back to reality.

Richard and I cleaned up and dressed in sport coats and slacks complete
with ties for dinner.  We had to really fight to prevent ourselves from
getting too amorous or we would have never made it.  Once we were finally
dressed, the look of the two of us was so shockingly striking that we both
were aroused.  Settling for a couple of quick kisses and gropes, Richard
opened the door and gestured for me to exit.  Playfully, he swatted my ass
as he fell in step next to me in the hall.  As we headed downstairs, a
young woman dressed as a maid approached us and told us she had just been
sent to bring us in for cocktails.

Entering the library, we were greeted by Aunt Marie, my lawyer, and two
other couples.  One pair were the best friends of Aunt Marie's late
daughter, Laura.  Melissa and George Hawthorne had met Laura at college and
were with her when she injured and died in a scuba diving mishap. The other
couple were two very handsome, young men.  Louis Juneau was a tall,
African-American and his partner, Edward Yeats, was a slightly shorter,
white man.  Both were good looking and seemed genuinely in love with each
other.  They were also friends of Laura's, but from her high school years.

After a couple of minutes of drinks and polite chatter, Maybrook entered
and announced that dinner was ready to be served.  Aunt Marie led the way
escorted by my attorney with the rest of us trailing behind. Dinner was a
five-course event, ending with a delicious chocolate raspberry soufflé
with vanilla ice cream.  Following the meal, the group retired to the
library for a piano performance and after-dinner refreshments.

The weather had deteriorated during the course of the meal until it became
evident no one was leaving.  Maybrook informed us that there was minor
flooding in the immediate area and that he had prepared rooms for everyone.
Just after he stopped speaking, a loud clap of thunder and a flash of
lightening filled the room.  With that over, the lights went out leaving
the only the fireplace to provide illumination.  Within seconds, Maybrook
had candles lit and ready.

The maid, whose name was Theresa, and Maybrook used candles to escort all
of us to our rooms and made sure each room had some lit for easier
maneuvering.  I was standing and staring out the window at the storm when
Richard came up behind me and nuzzled my neck.  Turning, I threw my arms
around his necks and asked if he wanted to fool around.  Smiling, he kissed
me and led me to the bed.

As the storm progressed, there was a very different tempest going on
inside.  We were so aroused by the entire evening, I practically ripped
Richard's clothing from his body.  Pushing him back, I removed the rest of
my togs and began ravaging his ass.  He gripped the bed and moaned in
beastial pleasure.  After several intense moments, he practically screamed
for me to fuck him.  Grabbing his ankle, I slowly pushed my engorged cock
into his waiting hole.  It was fiery hot and velvety soft as we both became
extremely vocal.

Once I was completely in, I moved my pelvis in circles driving Richard into
fits of groans and dripping precum by the gallon.  Just when I was certain
he couldn't take much more, I started thrusting back and forth slowly at
first and gradually getting more aggressive.  Sweat was dripping off our
bodies and our noises were rivaling those of the violence outside the
windows.  Soon, I pushed in to the hilt ad unloaded for what seemed like an
eternity.  Richard sensed my climax and shot his own load without using his
or my hands.

Allowing both of us to recover, I leaned over to kiss Richard, Gently
pulling out, I ran into the bathroom and came back with towels to clean us
both.  Once finished, Richard used the bathroom and then snuggled close to
me in bed.  I was behind him pulling him as tight to me as I could.
Nibbling on his ear, I whispered that I loved him.  Turning his head, he
kissed me and said he did too.  Soon, I felt his breathing fall into a
slumber pattern and drifted off into dreamland myself.

Once again, I was in the earlier version of my bedroom.  The auburn-haired
man had confronted me as I exited the closet.  His blue eyes held me in
their gaze as his lips met mine in a passionate embrace.  Every fiber of my
body seemed to be on fire as the kiss lingered.  Strong arms gripped my
waist and pulled me even closer, if possible.  Coming up for air, he stared
into my eyes and stroked my cheek.  This lasted for minutes until he spoke
with a deep, slight English accent.

"Here you are, my love."  He cooed.

I heard myself respond in a similar voice, "Yes, I was making an inventory
for our trip.  Just wanted to see what I might pack."

Laughing, he smiled, "Geoffrey, you do worry too much.  The other valet can
pack what we'll need." He wrapped his arms around my shoulder as we walked
to the chest at the foot of the bed.

"But, Quinn, you know that your mother still isn't okay with this." I said
as I glanced in the dresser mirror.  The person I saw looking back at me
was different from my own.  I was the young dark-haired man with the green
eyes from the portrait in my modern room.  Staring into someone's else's
eyes was uncomfortable and made me dizzy.

"Darling, it doesn't matter to me."  Quinn stated.  "I'm of age and the
inheritance is mine.  She can't do anything or I can force her out of MY
house.  So relax."

Snuggling next to Quinn, I sighed, "If you say so.  I just want to be able
to live our life together without interference."

As Quinn leaned in to kiss Geoffrey again, Richard shook me awake.  Lying
on his side facing me, he smiled and said that Maybrook had been by to tell
us breakfast was in one hour.  Wiggling his eyebrows, I grabbed him and we
kissed.  Fifteen minutes and two cum shots later, we were showered and
heading to the dining room.  Giggling as we walked, we were met by Edward
and Louis exiting their room, hand-in-hand.  The four of us greeted one
another and continued our stroll through the halls.

Edward asked nonchalantly, "How long have you two been dating?"

I blushed and smiled, "A few weeks.  My former boyfriend was killed 8
months ago."  "Oh, I'm so sorry." replied Louis.  "Didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay.  Richard knows and I really do love him." I stated plainly,
kissing him gently.

Richard piped up, "How about you guys?"

"We met in high school."  Louis answered. "I fell hard from the start.
Laura was our `fag hag' when we hung out."

"Aunt Marie likes to keep reminders of her family around now..."  Edward's
voice trailed off.

"You mean now that she's dying."  I said.

We continued talking as we entered the dining room.  Aunt Marie was already
in her place at the head of the table.  It was a breakfast buffet so we
served ourselves.  She begged me to sit on her immediate right hand side as
we ate with Richard on her left.  During the meal, conversation flowed with
ease.  At one lull in the chatter, I decided to dig into some of my dream.

"Aunt Marie, who is the young, dark-haired man in the portrait on my wall?"
I asked, nonchalantly.

"The one with green eyes?"  she said and I nodded.  "That was a young valet
named Geoffrey Yeats.  He was assigned to the third son of the builder of
this estate, Quinn Oswald Sr."

"What do we know about him besides that info?"  I asked.  "I had a really
odd dream about him and a auburn-haired man."

She looked surprised and replied, "That would be Quinn Jr.  He stayed in
that same room."

Aunt Marie proceeded to tell us their story.  Geoffrey was only 13 when he
was moved from the stables to become a valet.  Quinn Jr.  was 21 and had an
"alternative" lifestyle.  The family knew and didn't interfere as long as
he was discreet.  Shortly after he met young Geoffrey, Quinn began to
pursue the young man sexually.  He found any excuse to be naked around him
or touch him.  In time, Quinn came to love the young man and wooed him with
kindness.  They became lovers and Geoffrey moved into Quinn's room about a
year later.

After the father passed, his oldest brother, Maxwell, inherited the entire
estate so Quinn wouldn't have been risking any claim.  When his two older
brothers died in World War I, the estate became his alone and he was
required to marry.  Although he didn't really want a wife, he conceded the
need for heirs.  With a wild stroke of luck , he found a young lady named
Olivia Mason, who was a lesbian in love with her ladies' maid, Theresa.
This unlikely marriage of convenience produced two sons and one daughter.
It lasted for fifteen years until Quinn Jr. died in a horseback riding
fall.

Prior to the time of his death, Quinn Jr.  had written an iron-clad will.
He made provisions in his will for his mother, his wife and children, and
even young Geoffrey.  The family was flabbergasted to discover that
Geoffrey was to receive 25% of the value.  He received his share and
reportedly moved to Boston.  No one heard anything more about him after
that.

"You know," Aunt Marie said, "Quinn Jr. has a portrait in the room that
Louis and Edward are staying.  He had the bluest eyes that were as clear as
tropical seas."

"I'd like to see that later, if I may." I asked Edward and Louis, who
nodded their approval.

Aunt Marie continued, "There a several books of family history in the
library you might want to examine.  Keep in mind the one my father had
printed is mostly a falsehood he created to cover up his humble
beginnings."

We finished breakfast chatting about social events and the storm last
evening.  Aunt Marie told us that Maybrook contacted the state police. Who
said the roads were clear and the flooding was minimal.  Following the
meal, Edward and Louis showed us their room and I was soon staring at the
auburn-haired man in my dreams.  Aunt Marie was correct about his eyes,
including how hypnotic they were.  As they gathered their remaining
belongings, we chatted and walked out to their car.  Goodbyes and phone
numbers were exchanged and then they were gone.

Returning to the library, Aunt Marie had Maybrook locate the history books
for us.  Due to her illness, she excused herself to rest and said she would
see us a lunch.  Richard sat in one chair and I in the other as we each
started to read through the complex family lore.

My book was the "fictional" story of Nathaniel Westbridge's lineage.  It
read like a poorly written romance novel.  Supposedly, his family could be
genetically traced back to James I of England.  The line continued
throughout many of the European royal families, with a prince here and a
countess there.  It even claimed a connection to Czar Nicholas II of
Russia.  Ironically, the only royal house that was not mentioned was
Sweden, which I knew from my own scant research was the one from which he
descended.  I guess he thought he was punishing them by omitting them from
his "life story."  The book was, as Marie put it, pure propaganda.

Richard had a volume about Quinn Oswald Sr. and his family.  They were from
a minor line of the Dutch royal house.  Since they were so far removed from
becoming King or Queen, many emigrated to New Amsterdam, which became New
York.  With the money they already had, most became merchants and traders.
Oswald's father built his massive fortune from a fleet of whaling and
trading ships.  They sided with the American colonists during the
Revolution and prospered greatly after Independence.

The story traced the family's downfall as well.  The two World Wars and the
Great Depression had pretty much destroyed most of the fortune.  By the
time Nathaniel came into the picture, the Oswald family's vast wealth was
primarily limited to a few stocks and the estate and its grounds.  Carter
Oswald was the last of the clan and the man who left Nathaniel everything.
He never married or fathered any children due to his homosexual lifestyle.

After a couple of hours reading, Richard and I took a tour of the gardens
and greenhouse.  The outside had been heavily battered by the storm but one
could still see the magnificent beauty of the scheme.  In the greenhouse,
the temperature was steaming ad we strolled through each room.  Every
section had a different variety and climate for the plants inside, ranging
from heavily tropical to desert cacti.

In the Rain Forest Room, a small pond with fish and lily pads was
surrounded by palms and other tropical foliage. There was a large bench set
on a peninsula that jutted out into the pond itself.  Richard grabbed my
hand and led me there where we sat in the middle of the gorgeous greenery
and made out like teenagers.  At one point, he unzipped my slacks and
started playing with my hard cock. Aroused as I was, I returned the favor
and we were soon stripping off our clothing,

The area around the bench was covered in a soft grass that felt warm to the
skin.  We moved ourselves there and began sucking each other as if we
hadn't seen the other for years.  Sweat and sounds of sex filled the large
room as we both became more and more excited.  I was itching to be fucked
and cooed for Richard to take me.  He slowly moved between my legs.  Using
only his spit, he entered me gently and gave me a fucking I hadn't
experienced in a long, long time.  Soon his breathing changed and I knew we
were both close, Sensing that, I grasped my dick and began to stroke while
encouraging him to fill me up.  He thrust harder and within seconds he
climaxed deep inside my bowels.  Feeling his cock expand within me, I shot
my load until he collapsed on top of me.

We lay there for several minutes trying to recover our senses when we heard
a small noise.  Looking over, we saw Maybrook standing as properly as ever
on the pathway.

"Sorry gentlemen."  he stammered, obviously flustered.  "Luncheon will be
served in 45 minutes."  With that said, he placed some towels on the bench,
turned, and left the room.

We looked at each other and burst our laughing at the absurd picture we
must have presented.  It most likely resembled two dog fucking on someone's
front lawn.  Using the towels and some water from the pond , we cleaned
each other and dressed.  Noticing our clothes were filthy, Richard
suggested we run upstairs and change before lunch.

Lunch was a more ordered affair as Maybrook served the courses himself.
Each time he approached either Richard or myself, he smiled and winked
letting us know he supported us entirely.  I became really fond of Maybrook
and respected his discretion.  Aunt Marie didn't eat very much, claiming a
lack of appetite.  We suspected her stomach was bothered by the cancer.
She continued to talk about everything she could and tell stories about her
family and the Oswalds.

The remainder of the visit was uneventful as the lawyers handled the
details and Marie and I just signed whatever was required.  Since Richard
had school coming back and I had my work, we left with a promise to return
as soon as possible.  However, that was the last time we would see my Aunt
Marie alive.  She passed away a few weeks later and suddenly, Westbridge
Manor was mine.

TO BE CONTINUED...

If you enjoy this story please visit my other story at
http://west.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/daryls-enlightenment/