Message-ID: <14770eli$9808281620@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/14770.txt>
From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com
Subject: {Spoonbender}JDR"The Fete"(M+F nc)[1/1]
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Note: This message was posted by a secure email service. Please report MISUSE OR ABUSE of this automated secure email service to <abuse@anon.nymserver.com>.
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <6s0aor$nnt$1@sparky.wolfe.net>
JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked
the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a
comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories
itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
to encourage them to continue entertaining you.
The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this
posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in
any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright
below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as
well.
********************************************************************
This is the third story in the Legend Series.
Copyright (c) 1997 Spoonbender. A fantasy of an adult nature. Not to
be read by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are
underage then don't read. Contains innuendo (An Italian Suppository! Get
it? Oh well suit yourself) but very little sex. Can be freely distributed
as long as it is free. If it is to archived on a fee paying archive then
please email me first for permission.
Please email me with comments, constructive criticism etc. Don't flame
me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style, I'm still
learning the craft.
*********************************************************************
========
The Fete
Legend 3
Spoonbender
Theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk
"You be new around 'ere then?". The speaker leaned over the fence, the
straw in his mouth waggling as he talked.
"Yes we're Americans from the Airbase. I'm Jim and this is my wife
Judy"
"Arrh!"
"Er and you are?"
"I be Silas, I be. Silas Merryweather". The speaker brought a hand
from his pocket as if to shake on the introduction, but her merely pulled
the straw from his mouth and pointed with it towards the picturesque
thatched cottage about 100 yards further down the lane.
"You be renting Mrs Foster's old place then?". He said
"Yes that's right." For the first time in his life Jim felt like he
wasn't in control. His day job was a transport pilot, flying the feisty
old Charlie 130s. Ok, so it wasn't exactly top gun, but hell, he'd made
full bird Colonel at 29. Some feat when his job lacked the glamour of the
fighter jocks. Doing that stint on special ops had helped of course. 'Its
because you deserve it', his wife had observed, smiling.
Judy was always smiling. Short, vivacious, curved in all the right
places, blond, bubbly, slim and sexy. Clever too! That was Judy,
everything a man could ever want all in one exciting little package. Her
smile slipped a half notch as she waited for the man to reply.
After an age he said. "Arrh".
That seemed to be the end of the conversation. So the couple bid their
farewells.
"Talkative sort!" observed Jim, dryly.
Judy giggled. When she wasn't smiling she was giggling. It made Jim
want to gather her up and eat her alive. God she was gorgeous.
Jim had been stationed at RAF Alconheath (a limey airbase, supposedly,
but in reality as American as Apple Pie. Maybe they thought it would fool
the locals?) for only two weeks and as an officer he was entitled to
rented local accomodation. He'd settled for a quaint old English thatched
cottage. A house with a straw roof and walls made out of cowdung and
sticks. Built back when the Mayflower was a twinkle in her architects eye..
Of course Judy loved it, even though he kept banging his head on the
beams.
They were determined to settle into the life of English countryfolk,
so later that evening they found themselves in the local pub, the Lost
Maiden.
As usual Silas Merryweather propped up the bar in the snug. Normally
taciturn, he had become quite loquacious when he'd described the new couple
earlier.
"I think she be about right. You see."
So the welcome they recieved was a curious blend of warm friendliness
and intense curiosity.
"Will you be coming to the Fete then?" Someone asked.
Jim looked at his wife. She nodded eagerly.
"Yeah sure. That'd be great. Hey what are you guys all drinking then?"
The legendary Yank generosity.
As usual Silas was first in the queque.
"What'll it be Silas?"
Silas indicated the pump with the stem of his pipe.
"Bitter?"
"Arrrh."
****************************************************
"You don't want be drinking that rubbish." Opinioned the ruddy faced
young man in the too tight suit. "Try some of this." He held up a beaker
of a murky brown liquid.
Jim looked at dubiously, then tried a sip. Suprisingly it tasted
great.
"Here honey try some of this. Hey can I have another one for my wife."
"Aarh that you can."
They stood sipping the brew, listening to the sounds of a normal
little village fete. Jim really thought they'd arrived. He was especially
pleased when everyone greeted them like old friends.
The brew was starting to go to his head a little and so he looked for
somewhere to sit down. He asked a group of burly farmworkers if he could
sit with them and they cheerfully obliged, sliding their beefy backsides
up the bench until there was room for both him and Judy.
He turned towards her but found she was gone. Monentarily taken aback
he glanced anxiously around the room. He spotted her sitting with a group
of women around her age. She smiled and waved. He relaxed.
The afternoon was an amazing success in Jim's mind. The local hooch
was really getting to him now and he knew he was slurring badly. But his
new friends, who all seemed impervious to its deadly effects, treated
everything he said like it was the most amazing thing they'd ever heard. He
loved telling them about the boring taxi driver job he did every day. He
threw in a bit of derring do, to spice it up a bit, embroidering his tales
with every re-telling.
He looked around to find Judy, but she, and the women had gone. Now
the beer tent consisted of just men.
In his inebriated state Jim didn't notice that one by one the men
slipped out. Or that the returning men looked thoughtful before joining
the miasma of bonhomie that surrounded Jim like a cloud.
Later that night they steered Jim gently towards another tent out
towards the edge of the field. It took him awhile to fight with the canvas
and to get inside. It was dark and his new friends helped him slip out of
his clothes and onto the mattress that lay there. Suddenly he felt
incredibly randy when he felt a warmth moving next to where he lay. He
reached across and touched a breast. She responded with a quiet moan. He'd
know that moan anywhere, it was Judy. To his befuddled mind he was at home
in bed getting ready to pleasure his wife.
Strangely he thought he imagined someone exclaiming "Arrrh." when he
pushed himself deep inside her.
*********************************************************************
They came to the next morning, groggily trying to understand where
they were.
Slowly they remembered.
"You were insatiable last night lover." She said. "I'm incredibly
sore."
"Me too. Wonder what the hell it is they make that stuff out of. I'd
like to ship a load stateside we'd make a fortune."
"How'd we get here anyway?"
"I dunno honey. Maybe the locals thought we'd had too much so they
put us to bed."
The reception they got from the villagers was a little cooler than it
had been the day before. Jim put it down to the fact that he'd gotten
himself plastered. They were still friendly enough though as they made
their way, slowly, home.
*********************************************************************
The harvest was a record that year and the couple were invited to a
harvest supper in which they were the guests of honour.
Jim was telling one of his buddies about it the next day.
"Hey you live in Upper Pidley don't you?"
"Sure why?" replied Jim.
"They've got a curious legend about that place."
"What's that then?"
"The way I heard it they had to have some sort of ritual before they
gather the harvest in. All to do with some witch they burnt about a
thousand years ago. She cast a spell on the village and ever since then
they had to sacrifice a maiden or their harvest would die in the fields.
Over the years this kind of got corrupted and by the middle of last
century it was down to the whole of the village having to lay some girl or
other, that being the equivalent of a sacrifice I guess. This girl couldn't
be any girl either, she must be a girl who hadn't lain with any man from
the village before. Must have made virgins a rarity around there huh?
Anyway the last I heard it all sort of died away. Though knowing some of
the locals I wouldn't be surprised if something like it still didn't go
on. That'd be fun huh? By the way how was the fete?"
********************************************************************
FOOTNOTE: I'm looking for a lady who enjoys my type of writing and who
is prepared to collaborate with me on future stories. You will naturally
share the credit, such as it is. If you are her and you want to help weave
your own fantasy. Then please email me at thoedore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk
Theodore Spoonbender.
========
The Fete
Legend 3
Spoonbender
-30-
--
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>