At some point a certain her Museness saw fit to make a
suggestion for a new story. Never let it be said that this
author will ignore a muse! OK she did say it was a bad idea.
I don't know, what do you think? 

Little Friday Peep
by Arty

[Being the tale of a wanton hussy getting her comeuppance
and losing her sheep into the bargain! Tease me will ya?]

Little Friday Peep tugged irritably at the ribbon that held
her bonnet in place. This was the limit, how on earth was
anyone supposed to live in all this clothing let alone go
careering around these hills chasing sheep? And don't let
anyone tell you that sheep are stupid*, at least these sheep
weren't. Mentally she christened them 'devil sheep' and they
took a great delight in scattering themselves across the
countryside each time her attention wandered; which, let's
face it, it did.

Often.

Looking after sheep is not the most taxing of occupations
and so Friday would find herself 'daydreaming'. The sheep,
being mischievous creatures, would wait until Friday's
'daydreams' were reaching their noisy climax and then each
of them would run like crazy in a different direction
bleating their laughter. Of course the noise would awaken
Friday from the drowsy aftermath of her 'daydream' and then
there would ensue a frantic half-hour of furious activity
until all the recalcitrant sheep were once more shepherded
back together.

"Bloody Mary** should think herself lucky! At least she only
had one and a lamb at that!" said Friday to herself, after
she had once more re-gathered her flock. "And it followed
her all over the place! She should try chasing up hill and
down dale after my lot!"

A couple of the sheep came and bleated their concern; they
were only playing after all and didn't really mean to upset
her.

"It's OK I'm not really cross, it's just that I'm getting
bored ... and no that doesn't mean I want to chase you
across half the county again!"

The sheep she was addressing looked, well, sheepish and
wandered off to join her flock. Deciding to be good for now
the flock stuck together and grazed.

Friday sat down and took off her bonnet. "Who invented this
thing anyway?" Taking her hat off had felt good; looking
around Friday could see only her flock and, making a quick
decision, she frantically unbuttoned, unhooked and untied
until she sat, naked, on the hillside. She wriggled in glee,
thankful to be out of the intensely confining clothing. The
sun was warm and the sheep were behaving themselves for
once, and Friday slept.

His tongue circled a nipple lazily; his left hand rolled the
other nipple gently between finger and thumb sending shocks
to that special place between her legs. Just about then the
right hand started stroking her stomach and slowly descended
to investigate her pubic hair. Quickly a path was blazed
down to her pussy lips. Her legs parted, almost of their own
volition, as fingers began their explorations to find the
source of the 'river' running down her legs. Breathy moans
and small squeals were a counterpoint to the rapid breathing
that this activity prompted. The tongue and the hand at her
pussy began the short trek to exchange places and now the
assailant began in earnest. The, almost painful, rolling of
her nipples was offset by the, almost unbearable,
stimulation of her clit. Soon Friday was helpless to prevent
the first of several orgasms, each more intense than the
last. Just as she felt that she could take no more the
stimulation tapered off and Friday fell into a light doze.

She woke to the sound of … nothing. Hey where are the sheep?
She looked around. Where are my clothes? Her crook was stuck
in the ground and a short note was tied to it.

"Dear Ms. Peep,

We have your sheep. They will be returned to you safe and
well upon payment of a ransom."

It was signed, "Nick (The Evil Rat Bandit) Scipio"

Then she noticed a PS. "Which you have already paid!"

Sighing gently to herself, Friday made her way home. As
predicted by the Rhyme the sheep were already there. Her
clothes, freshly washed and pressed, were airing on the
line.

So dear reader they all continued to live happily, if a
little noisily, ever after.

-Fin-

(*Once you've seen sheep negotiating a cattle grid 'commando
style' [i.e. Lie down parallel to grid, tuck legs into body,
then roll across grid.] you will never again think of sheep
as stupid. Now cows on the other hand…)

(**Not a pun, well not intentionally. Though I must admit I
did consider littering the piece with cocktails.)