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The Kings of the Valley
by Lord_John_Thomas (lord_john_thomas@hotmail.com)

***

A prim English school teacher and he husband buy a 
cottage in Wales during the difficult times of the late 
sixties. They suffer from the anti-English backlash, 
but she is accepted only by complying with their terms. 
(MF, reluc, beast)

***

All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes 
that could cause offence to some people. Please do not 
read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual 
material, or if you are under the legal age of consent 
for your own country. These stories are pure fiction 
and are not based on anyone living or deceased

What kind of story can a sixty year old retired school 
teacher have to tell that would interest a modern adult 
audience?

A true one, perhaps?

The year was 1968 and I was twenty-six years old, 
married to Jim who was also twenty-six. He came from a 
modest family background in a small midland town. I 
came from a middle class professional family in London. 
We met and fell in love whilst at university in London, 
and were married within six months of graduating at the 
age of twenty-one.

We lived in a large house in the midlands countryside, 
and Jim ran his own engineering business from a 
workshop on our own land. I worked as a school teacher 
at a local village school, and was very active in the 
local church, reading the lesson, singing in the choir 
and organizing fundraising events.

By 1968 we were well established in the local 
community, and Jim’s business was doing well. We 
decided to buy a holiday home, it had to be near the 
seaside, but not commercialized. We found our dream 
home in a North Wales Valley near the coast. We were 
stretching our financial position to the limit, but 
after seeing this five bedroom cottage nestled into the 
welsh hillside, we were both smitten.

From the start we loved the welsh countryside, with its 
hills, valleys and wonderful coast line, but found the 
people somewhat reserved and difficult to make friends 
with. This didn’t stop us going down there every 
weekend, and joining the local activities such as 
church, boating and fishing. We had bought the place in 
January, and by June had our first crop of fruit from 
the garden.

Our house was situated on a lane that led from Mill-
Farm (Pandy in welsh) to one of Mill-Farm’s stock yards 
and shearing barns, therefore it was a common sight to 
see the old farmer Mr. Jones or one of his two sons 
walking past our gates either going to or from their 
barn. The old man was always surly, and rarely smiled 
or even replied when you said hello to him. 

The two boys were both about the same age as me. One 
called Morris who was pleasant, but would never stop to 
past the time of day. The other was Bryan, who was 
surly like the old man, but you would often find him 
stood motionless starring with a look like he was 
undressing you, he made my flesh creep.

One day in June, I can remember sitting in the orchard 
looking up the hill and seeing old Mr. Jones standing 
on top of a stone platform about fifty yards up the 
hill, he was waving. As I studied him I could make out 
he was standing sideways to me, holding his penis and 
having a pee. I thought how disgusting doing that in 
public, and especially attracting attention to himself. 
I turned away, and ignored him, when some time later 
Jim came out I told him what I’d seen. Jim asked where 
Mr. Jones had been standing, and when I explained, he 
said, "But that’s our water tank!" Our water came 
direct from the filter beds on the hill, to a stone 
tank and then it was piped to the house. 

As soon as Jim told me that was our water, I realized 
what that funny taste was in our water. I’d been 
thinking for several weeks now, that the water didn’t 
taste quite right, and had put it down to the lack of 
rain. I immediately felt sick, but at that very moment 
Mr. Jones came walking nonchalantly past, and waved a 
friendly hello.

I sprung to my feet and raced to the orchard fence, 
"What do you think you were doing up there!" I shouted.

"Same as I’ve bin doing for the last six weeks. We’ve 
gotta keep that tank topped up for you," he replied, as 
he walked passed and went on his way not stopping. I 
looked at Jim, but he said that there was no point in 
arguing, we must go and report this to the police.

At the local police station, we reported what we had 
seen, and when we explained where we lived, the 
sergeant said, "That’ll be my Brother Di’s farm that 
you’re talking about." 

He said he would investigate, but as we left Jim said, 
"That was a waste of time. We’ll have to write a letter 
to the chief constable at district headquarters if we 
want to get anything done." When we got back to the 
house we wrote our letter, and it was time to make our 
way home to the midlands.

On the Thursday we got a reply from the chief constable 
accusing us of wasting police time, and saying that it 
was no wonder that there were all these reprisals 
against English families going on in Wales. If all 
English people were like us. We took the letter to a 
solicitor, who explained that we had no tangible 
evidence. He said our options were limited; we could 
either sell up and move elsewhere, or try and make 
peace and be friendly with the locals.

In the summer of 1968 there were holiday homes 
belonging to English people being burned to the ground, 
and hence house prices had plummeted since we got our 
mortgage on ours. If we had to sell now we would lose 
that much that we wouldn’t be able to pay off the 
mortgage, so selling wasn’t an option. We discussed 
trying to make friends with the Joneses, and tried to 
think if we had inadvertently offended them, but we 
couldn’t think of anything.

The next weekend we arrive at our house in Wales only 
to find that the cattle had completely trampled all of 
our gardens, lawns, and orchard into a quagmire, there 
was cow muck everywhere. We got straight in the car and 
headed for the police station, "The bloody evidence is 
there for even his half witted brother to see!" Snapped 
Jim, as he got into the car.

At the police station, "But can you be sure that you 
locked your gate properly Mr. King?" Said the sergeant 
sarcastically. "You see, I do not doubt your word that 
there’s damage occurred, but if the wind blew open your 
gate cuz you didn’t shut it properly, and them cows 
strayed in by mistake. Its just one of those things 
that you have to accept when your house is in the 
middle of a working farm. You were in a bit of a state 
last weekend if I remember rightly."

We left and returned to our devastated house, where Jim 
made a phone call to our solicitor back home. This only 
confirmed what the sergeant had said, and we knew we 
were beaten. I went to make some tea using water I had 
brought with me. Out of habit I put the teapot under 
the tap to rinse it out, and the water ran yellow and 
stank foul. This was the last straw, Jim said he would 
go to the harbour and collect his boat, and we would 
return home immediately to the midlands. We couldn’t 
afford to sell, so we would have to keep paying the 
mortgage on a house that we couldn’t use.

He left for the harbour, and I sat in the orchard and 
cried. 

"What’s wrong Mrs. King?" said Morris leaning over the 
orchard fence.

"You and your family, that’s what’s wrong," I snapped.

"But all my Da wants is to make friends."

"He’s got a funny way of showing it." I was still 
sobbing.

"Well you and Mr. King haven’t attempted to show your 
respect to my Da. Have you?"

"Respect? What do you mean?"

"Can I come over there and tell you what you did to 
upset him?"

"Yes. Come on in, there’s no point in shouting from 
that distance." He didn’t walk down to the gate; he 
just straddled the fence and walked over to where I was 
sitting on a bench.

"Can I sit down?"

"Yes. Now tell me what we can have done to annoy your 
dad that much?"

"Well you see that house of yours has a long history, 
and every owner for the last hundred or more years 
since the house was built, has had to follow a ancient 
ritual of capitulation to the master of Mill-Farm. 
Otherwise the farm has bad luck. And since you moved in 
we’ve lost lambs, had stillborn calves and now the mill 
stream looks as if it’s going dry and that’ll leave us 
with no water for the cattle. You see you haven’t 
abided by local traditions, and Da thinks we're now 
cursed."

"Surely nobody believes in that kind of superstition 
these days?"

"There you see. You’re not listening. We have to 
believe cuz it’s happening to us now."

"What can I do to put thinks right?"

"Normally you’d just visit Da and go through a ritual. 
Saying lines like in a play, and Da replying. But I 
think Da’s pretty annoyed with you both, so I recon 
taking a jar of that fruit preserve of yours might 
bring him round."

"Is that all I have to do? Give him a jar of preserves? 
He can have the larder full if it’ll end this feud."

"No, the preserves are just a sweetener. It’s the 
ritual that’s important. You need to show respect in a 
traditional way and Mr. King has to do the same with my 
Ma down the farm house. You have to learn the words, 
and say them exactly as they were said by the first 
lady that lived at the house, sitting on an old 
fashioned milking stool."

"How will I know the words? What milking stool? Where 
and when do I say them?"

"I can tell you the words. You write them down and 
memorise them. It’s the same for Mr. King. As for the 
milking stool, it’s an old antique up at the shearing 
barn. And that's the place where you should meet Da."

"I’ll go and get a sheet of paper and a pen. You wait 
there." I returned with my paper and he explained word 
for word what I had to say, we then did the same for 
Jim.

I asked when I should see his dad and he said as soon 
as possible, and he’d be up at the barn this afternoon. 
Morris left and I awaited Jim’s return, when he arrived 
I explained everything that Morris had said.

Jim and I had talked through what Morris had told me, 
and we both agreed that we would make an all out effort 
to appease Mr. Jones and make a good impression. We had 
both been memorizing the little traditional greeting 
that Morris had said was so important. I had written 
them both down, word for word. I’d given Jim his, and 
explained how important Morris had said it was that he 
memorized it exactly. I had not let him read mine, as I 
thought it sounded so foolish. In stead, I had taken it 
with me into the bathroom and read it through time and 
again, whilst having my bath, until I could remember it 
word perfect. 

He wore his best suit and I put on a Chinese style 
dress that, although not the height of fashion, suited 
my slender body. This was something that I was made 
aware of by the attention I received from most males 
whenever I had worn the dress before. I realized that I 
would be overdressed for a meeting in a barn but 
thought that it would help to win over Mr. Jones. 
Although the Scholl sandals (wooden soles with a single 
strap across the front) didn’t suit the style, I could 
not see any way that I could walk up the farm track 
with high heal shoes, and they were the only flat shoes 
I had with me. 

Jim was ready looking really smart, but standing there 
with a cane basket of freshly picked fruit, it didn’t 
seem to fit the image. I likewise with a dress for a 
party, holding a large stone jar of preserved fruit, 
what an odd couple we must have looked. 

I gave him a kiss and with a, "Well here goes," I 
turned and left the house. Jim followed, and as I 
turned up the track towards the barn, he went the 
opposite way towards the farm house.

"Good luck," I heard him say. 

I didn’t turn around; instead I put all my 
concentration into walking up the steep uneven path. 
The dress going right down to my ankles was so tight 
that I could only take very small strides. This 
characteristic Chinese’s shuffle might look good on a 
smooth flat dance floor; on the farm track it made 
progress almost impossible. The dress was definitely 
the wrong choice, in hind sight I should have turned 
and gone back to the house to change.

I didn’t, and as I reached the bend in the track I came 
into sight of Morris, he beckoned and called for me to 
hurry. He was shouting something about the sheep being 
brought down off the hill into the yard. Although I 
wasn’t making much progress, I was already hurrying, 
Morris obviously thought I wasn’t getting there quick 
enough, and he climbed over the gate and came running 
to meet me. When he arrived, he held out his hand to 
try to help me make faster progress, I didn’t take his 
hand, as the large stone jar of preserves was difficult 
enough to carry with both hands. 

He was getting impatient and repeated, "Come on we must 
get you through the gates before the sheep arrive, once 
there in the yard we won’t be able to open the gates, 
and you’ll have to climb over." 

The thought of climbing over a rusty steel gate that 
was as tall as me was not something that I could 
imagine possible, and filled me with trepidation. I put 
even more effort into my shuffle and inevitably 
tripped, and would have fallen to the floor if Morris 
hadn’t caught me. 

"Be careful Mrs. King," he said, as he returned me to 
the upright position, his left hand cupped under my jar 
of preserves which I was holding to my chest, his right 
hand around my waist. 

I had Scarcely a second to catch my breath, before, 
"Come on please hurry, I’ll help you," he said as he 
urged me forward with his arm tightly around my waist, 
and his left hand still helping me to support the 
weight of the jar. In normal circumstances I couldn’t 
imagine me allowing such close contact, but in this 
bizarre situation, his strong supporting arm around my 
waist somehow gave me the confidence to attempt to 
almost run. 

As we neared the gate he let me go and ran to open it, 
"come on through quickly, we’ve still got to get across 
the yard to the second gate." My heart sank; as I herd 
him shut the gate behind me I could see the sheep 
running down the yard towards us. He once again put his 
arm round my waist, but we only made a couple of yards, 
before the sheep were all around us. 

We still tried to move but I was terrified, and almost 
immediately, "oh my god I’ve lost one of my shoes," I 
cried. 

"Come on, I’ll carry you," Morris said, as he put his 
left hand under the back of my knees, and swept me off 
my feet. Once again under normal circumstances I would 
have struggled and protested, but, instead, I clenched 
the fruit jar tightly to my chest with my right arm, 
and put my left arm around his neck to give me support. 

"Are you ok like this," he said, I nodded, and meekly 
said, "Yes, thank you." As we made steady progress 
across the yard through a sea of sheep he said, "I’ll 
get your shoe once I get you safely on the gate." The 
gate; once again I was filled with dread, how was I 
possibly ever going to get over that gate, at six foot 
high, with rusty steel bars, even if I had been wearing 
jeans (not that I ever did), I couldn’t see how I would 
be able to get over that gate. But I wasn’t wearing 
jeans; I had a dress that was tight fitting right down 
to my ankles.

We arrived at the second gate! He turned me around to 
face the gate and gently placed my feet on one of the 
crossbars about two feet off the floor. He then 
supported my waist with both hands so that I could take 
my arm from around his neck and hold on the gate with 
one hand, still clutching those dam preserves to my 
chest with my other arm. The sheep were chewing and 
licking my feet and ankles, and the rusty steel was 
digging painfully into the foot without a shoe. 

I looked back to where Morris was still searching for 
the missing shoe, and after what seemed an age, he 
eventually stood up with a big smile on his face, 
holding the shoe aloft, he yelled like an excited 
school boy. 

"I’ve found it Mrs. King." 

I managed a smile and for a split second, "oh good," I 
shouted, not that he could hear with the noise of the 
sheep. Then as Morris rushed towards me with the shoe I 
thought ‘what am I smiling for’, there’s still this 
gate to get over. He arrived, and dutifully stroked the 
sole of my foot before placing the sandal in place, and 
returning my foot to the gate rail. 

Then as he stood alongside me he asked, "How are we 
going to get you over then?" There was obviously no way 
I could step from one rail of the gate to the next with 
this tight dress. Even if I could persuade him to take 
me back to the first gate so I could go back to the 
house and get changed, we would still have to get over 
that gate. 

"The only way is for you to open the gate, I cant 
possibly get over it," I said. 

"If I do that we’ll have sheep all over the yard, and 
Da would kill me," he said with a genuine look of fear, 
"I’m sorry but we’ll have to get you over the gate one 
way or another." 

"If I lift you by the waist I won’t get you high 
enough. The only other way would be if I put my hand up 
the inside of your leg and hold your knee, maybe our 
Bryan could climb across and do the same to the other 
knee?" 

I could almost have accepted trusting Morris to keep 
his mind on lifting me in that way, but the thought of 
Bryan (who always undressed you with his eyes every 
time he saw you) putting his hand up my inside leg was 
almost sure to have ended up with his hand wrapped 
around my crotch, I shivered at the thought. 

"No, I don’t think so," I replied. 

"Well what are we going to do then? Da’s waiting in the 
barn; he’s not the most patient of men. The sheep will 
be here for at least another four hours; you won't be 
able to perch up there all day in this sun." I knew he 
was right, but the only other way was the zip on the 
side of my dress. This went right from the hem at the 
bottom of the dress, up to under the arm, so that the 
dress could be made to hug the figure tightly. 

So I tentatively said to Morris, "there’s a zipper at 
the bottom of my dress, if you’re careful you can unzip 
my dress, up to my knees, and then I might be able to 
climb the gate if you can steady me." 

"Why didn’t you say that before, we could have had you 
over there by now?" Said Morris, as he bent down and 
moved a sheep out of the way. It was then, that I 
remembered that it was not the big rough type of zip 
that Morris would be used to, and took very gentle 
handling if you wanted to avoid the zip runner coming 
adrift, as I had found out once before when trying to 
unzip it in a hurry one day. If the runner did come 
adrift, the zip would gradually peel open without 
hardly any force at all. 

Morris had big hands and big fat fingers like pork 
sausages, and as he fumbled with the zipper, it undid 
about six inches before sticking. "Don’t force it," I 
shrieked, "pull it down gently and start again." He did 
as instructed, but his gentle was not gentle enough for 
the zip. "Oh! I’m sorry," he said as he stood up with 
the zip runner in his hand, "now how will we get it 
unzipped?" 

Before I could reply, his brother Bryan, who was 
standing in front of me at the other side of the gate, 
bent down and peeled me open to the thigh! 

Morris said, "Oh that's good. I thought I had broken 
it." 

I was stood there still clutching this dam jar, holding 
onto the gate with my left hand, my right leg now 
exposed up to about crotch level. Morris said, "put 
your foot on the next rail," as he supported my bottom 
with one hand and with the other hand on my ankle 
lifted my foot gently. As my knee rose, my zip slid 
another few inches, and my dress opened up and slipped 
from my side, across my front showing my leg to within 
inches of my crotch. Bryan looked eagerly, knowing that 
the higher I got up the gate the more I would be 
displaying. 

"Are you alright?" Morris said. "I’m just going to lift 
the other foot now." My dress swung back slightly, but 
still left the outside of my leg exposed. 

"Next step," said Morris, as my foot went up one more 
rail, but this time my foot was not placed directly 
above where it had came from, but somewhat carelessly 
at least a foot to the right, I was now (with the 
difference in height of the rails, and this extra 
foot), quite well spread open. 

My dress hung across to my left hand side, uncovering 
my crotch completely, which was obvious from Bryan’s 
leering look, he was almost dribbling. At this point I 
noticed three men appearing from the barn and 
sauntering their way over towards us, presumably to get 
a better look. They formed a small semi-circle the 
other side of the gate and didn’t hide the fact that 
they were all admiring my crotch. 

"They’s real fancy knickers she’s wearing," said one. 

"I bet it’s a real tasty cunt inside them," said 
another. 

"Hey watch your mouths," said Morris, "that’s no way to 
talk in front of a lady." 

"No offence Morris," the first man said, "but I can’t 
wait to get stuck into that pussy."

I was still standing there on show, when I felt Morris 
helping the other leg to the next rail bringing my feet 
level and my dress gave a little more cover. I was now 
two rails from the top, my balance was very unsteady, 
as I waited for Morris to move my foot up once more. He 
was climbing up the gate alongside me, holding onto the 
top of the gate using his chest to support me and stop 
me falling. 

"We’ll need to get your leg right over the gate this 
time, cuz you won’t be able to balance on the next 
rail." 

As he was speaking I noticed Bryan bending down and 
rubbing his fingers through a fresh fly covered cow pat 
(cow shit) on the floor, I was fascinated watching him 
swirl his hand slowly through the air with a swarm of 
flies in hot pursuit. My concentration was broken by 
Morris using his free hand on my right ankle, and 
lifting it up past the next rail, higher and higher and 
I had to lean across and along the gate. 

As my leg went over the top of the gate Bryan took hold 
of my ankle, with his wet cow muck hand, and instead of 
returning my foot down the other side of the gates to 
one of the rails, it carried on its journey sideways 
until I was stretched almost to full splits. 

"Please don’t," I cried. 

"Don’t worry we ain’t going to do anything, were just 
looking," he said. 

As I was facing down towards the gate I couldn’t see 
clearly where everyone was standing, but I knew that 
they had all gathered in for a close look. 

"Jesus them’s the smallest knickers I’ve ever seen," 
said one of the men. 

"Them’s called panties, not knickers," said another. 

The panties I had on were another mistake, they were no 
more than half an inch wide at the gusset, and tapered 
to a single narrow ribbon which disappeared in the 
crease of my bottom. When I put them on I was thinking 
that with a skirt down to my ankles nobody is going to 
get the slightest glimpse, they felt pretty, and would 
keep things cool on a hot day. As it turned out, with 
my legs spread wide open the gusset was following the 
line of my slot, with the lips of my cunt bulging for 
all to see. 

Morris brought them all to a halt with a, "Come on you 
lot, stop mucking about, put her foot down onto the 
gate." 

They obviously knew that he meant what he said and my 
foot was brought down on the other side of the gate, 
but not before Bryan had wiped his muck lined fingers 
across the exposed lips of my cunt and inner thigh. 
This had what was obviously the desired effect of 
attracting its own swarm of flies, they made there 
presence known, and amused the onlookers. Morris could 
tell that I was not comfortable, and he rapidly started 
lifting my other foot up and across the gate, so that I 
could at least stand upright. 

As he lifted my foot, my silly shoe fell, "I’ll get 
that a soon as I get your leg over," he said. Bryan 
obligingly took my ankle (with his mucky hand) and 
placed my foot on the rail, with my legs astride about 
two foot wide. I was now on the other side, leaning 
over the gate for balance, facing back to our house. My 
legs were apart and my dress, which was now unzipped 
completely to my arm pit, was still draped on the house 
side of the gate. They were in no hurry for Morris to 
find my shoe, as they took it in turns to kiss and lick 
the cheeks of my bottom. 

I struggled to slide my feet closer along the rail, but 
he had positioned each foot on the outside of an 
upright gate rail. I was holding on with one hand, and 
at that height, I dare not try to lift my feet off the 
rails, so I had to stand there and endure there 
tormenting, until Morris stood up jubilantly with my 
shoe. He quickly climbed over the gate, wiped my foot 
and put my shoe on. Now I thought would be the long 
drawn out reverse procedure to climb down, I was 
totally surprised when Morris reached to my bare waist 
with ease and with equal ease lifted me down to the 
ground. 

If he could lift me down that easy, why did I have to 
struggle and expose myself on the way up? 

He had put me down on a relatively clean patch of 
ground, but the yard was inches deep in cow muck, and 
the only way I could have walked across would have been 
bare foot. I was just about to remove my shoes when one 
of the watching men suggested, "don’t take your shoes 
off again, me and bill will carry you."

I said, "No, that’s all right." 

But Morris said, "Yes, it’s about time you pair did 
something useful." Without even considering the fact I 
had said no, I had a man either side of me, with an arm 
around my back, inside my dress (which was now hanging 
from my neck like a scarf), and their other hand under 
my knee. I was carried almost horizontal, jam pot 
clutched to my chest, legs akimbo, and an attentive 
swarm of flies you know where.

I was planted on my feet at the door to a shed, on the 
end of the barn, the door was opened and I was ushered 
in. It was a small wooden shed about eight feet by six, 
dimly lit by a single bulb on one side wall. I had 
tried to pull my dress around myself to look as 
presentable as possible, and I stood there clutching my 
jar. Old Mr. Jones stood up from the chair at the other 
side of the room, he looked me up and down, and finally 
he spoke.

"Looks like you couldn’t be bothered to dress up to 
come and see me, that dress looks a mess," he grunted. 

"I... I had a little accident with the dress trying to 
climb the gate," I stammered meekly. 

"That’s as maybe, come and sit, and lets hear what you 
have to say," he replied, pointing to a chair. 

The chair was not a usual chair; the seat was only six 
inches off the floor, the back fixed in a reclining 
position.

I suddenly remembered what the boys had told me 
earlier, the phrase, ‘lets here what you have to say’ 
was my queue to come out with my speech, I was then to 
wait for his reply, sit down and make my reply. So I 
plucked up my courage, held out my jar at full arms 
length with both hands (ignoring the dress floating 
across to uncover my legs), and with as much conviction 
as I could muster. 

"Good day Mr. Jones, I’ve come to introduce myself my 
name is Margaret. I want to show you my jam pot; I’ll 
open it wide so you can sample my fruit." 

I waited nervously, he replied. "Your very welcome to 
my humble shack, I hope you will accept this lowly 
milking chair to sit yourself down on. Lay back in the 
traditional manner and we’ll see what you’ve got to 
offer."
 
The boys had explained that this was my queue to sit 
down, and as with the words, this must also be done 
correctly. They had explained that I should sit down in 
a laid back position holding my pot of preserves in 
front of me. This pose was supposed to have some 
meaning, and at the time seemed quite innocent, but now 
leaning back like this was a major ordeal. 

Morris and Bryan took hold of an elbow apiece and they 
helped me down into the chair, still clutching my 
preserves to my chest. Bryan making sure that my dress 
was pulled completely sideways, so it just draped down 
my side. They leaned me back, till I made contact with 
the back of the chair, 

"That’ll be more comfortable," Morris said. I was about 
to start my reply, when a shake of the head from Morris 
reminded me that I should wait till Mr. Jones had sat 
down first. 

I waited nervously, my hands clenched onto my jar which 
rested under my bust. The low chair meant my legs were 
stretched out in front of me and under the facing chair 
(which was of normal height). This was the chair that 
Mr. Jones had been sitting on when I arrived. He walked 
back towards his chair, and beckoned to the two boys, 
his arms where hanging low in front of him, he waved 
them outwards, without saying a word they knew what he 
meant. 

The boys, one either side of me, bent down and took 
hold of my legs under the knee, they lifted my feet 
from under the chair, and placed them on a small sack 
either side of the chair. 

Mr. Jones stepped in between my legs and sat down. This 
was my next queue, so laid back with my legs spread 
open, I stretched out my arms pushing my jar of fruit 
towards Mr. Jones, smiled and said, "if you like what 
you see, don’t wait to be asked, just help yourself. 
You can share it with your friends there’s plenty for 
all."

 
Well I thought, they would soon be digging into the 
preserved raspberries and I would soon be on my way 
home. In hind sight, I now realize just how naive that 
was.

"They tell me you bottle all your own fruit?" He said. 

"Yes, that’s what I’ve brought for you." 

"Do you expect me to eat any of that old jar of 
preserves?" 

Suddenly I was frightened again (this man could send 
shivers down your spine with just a look), "That… 
that’s what I thought you wanted, I bottled that jar 
myself." 

"But me and my boys have been pissing in your water 
tank, and you expect me to taste my own piss." 

"I… I never thought of that," I stammered. 

"That’s only fit for the dogs," he said as he wrenched 
the jar from my hands and pulled off the paper wrapper, 
"let the dogs in Morris," he said. 

Within seconds, the door was open, and there were three 
excited dogs jumping around licking his raspberry 
covered figures. As Morris knelt down alongside me 
again, Mr. Jones said, "Come on boys, let the dogs see 
the rabbit," the boys quickly took hold my wrists, and 
lifted my legs wide. 

The door was still open; with the sunlight making sure 
that not only the dogs could see! Mr. Jones smeared jam 
all over the top of my legs and the crotch of my 
panties. The boys turned me slightly to give all three 
dogs access, they were licking furiously. 

I protested loudly, but nobody took any notice. My legs 
were soon clean, and one of the dogs had managed to 
edge my panties slightly over to one side. I could feel 
his tongue licking from the hole of my arse across my 
cunt, deep into my slot and up across my clit. There 
was nothing I could do to stop him, but more 
embarrassing was that I could not stop myself from 
lifting with each stroke of his tongue. 

Old Mr. Jones turned to call to the men from the yard, 
who by now, were standing in the open doorway watching 
the show.

"Come and get these two dogs out of the way, and let 
Patch have a clear go at her." 

Without any hesitation two of the men ran in and 
grabbed a dog apiece, and dragged them out. Patch (as I 
now realized was the dogs name), was licking away 
furiously, and my cunt was responding to every stroke, 
no matter how much I tried to stop it. He suddenly 
decided that licking wasn’t enough, and started to try 
to mount. 

"Hey! Stop that, patch." Shouted Mr. Jones very loudly. 

The dog backed off instantly, and cowered with fear at 
the sharp sound of his master’s voice. 

"Get him out of here," he shouted to one of the men, 
who were still watching at the door. The dog was 
removed, and the boys turned me back to face directly 
towards Mr. Jones, still holding my legs open and my 
hands out of the way. 

Turning to the men in the doorway, Mr. Jones shouted, 
"ain’t you lot got some work to do, Mrs. king don’t 
need you lot leering at her," then turning to face me, 
he gently said, "does that feel better, they’ve got rid 
of that nasty cow shit from the top of your legs?" As 
if he’d done me a favour letting the dogs lick me.

Looking up at Morris he said, "let go of her hands now 
boys, so that she can straighten up them pretty 
panties." My hands were released, but they made sure my 
legs remained spread. They leaned me forward, so that I 
could see what I was doing. The sunlight did indeed 
give a shaft of light in the right direction, as if the 
chair had been placed there with that in mind. I was 
now looking at the same view that the rest of them had 
been concentrating on for the last ten minutes. What a 
view! 

I have already said how narrow the gusset of my panties 
were, but they were now rolled into a crevice at one 
side of the top of my thigh. My cunt was fully exposed; 
it glistened, as the juices from inside, slowly 
dribbled out and down to my arse. I quickly got my 
fingers to work straightening, and trying to stretch 
the gusset, to cover up as much flesh as possible. When 
this was done I left my hands in a cupped position in 
between my legs to keep out the prying eyes. 

Looking back at me Mr. Jones repeated loudly, "I said. 
Does that feel better, now that they’ve got rid of that 
nasty cow shit from the top of your legs?" 

"Yes, I think so," I meekly replied. "Please can I 
close my legs now?" 

"I think if you look again, you’ll find that you 
haven’t got all the muck off yet," he said, pulling a 
grubby looking hanky out of his pocket. "Morris, go and 
wet this."

Morris dutifully took the hanky and went out of the 
door, soon to return with the hanky dripping with 
water. He handed it to me; I took the hanky, and had to 
use both hands to wring out the surplus water.

Mr. Jones leant forward, and with his finger only 
inches away from my cunt, he pointed to a thin black 
line of muck at the top of my thigh, that had been 
covered by the rolled up gusset of my panties, "There, 
I knew the dogs had missed some by the number of flies 
still buzzing around."

I wiped away the line of muck, and then continued along 
the top of both my inner thighs, the cold water felt 
good, and such a relief from those dam flies. As I 
stopped, and handed back his hanky, he lightly took 
both my hands, lifted them up, so as to get a good 
view.

He said, "There, that looks much cooler now, but there 
still seems to be something on your panties that 
interests those flies."

He was right; there was a small cluster of flies on the 
centre of the gusset, attracted by the juice that had 
dribbled out of my cunt. He gently brushed them away 
with the backs of his fingers lightly brushing my 
crotch. 

This sent a cold shiver straight up my back that made 
him ask, "What’s up, are you cold love?"

"No, I just don’t like being touched down there."

"Well that’s not very friendly to me, you seemed to 
enjoy every minute that Patch was licking you."

"That’s not fair, you were holding me, and there was 
nothing that I could do."

"That’s as maybe, but you were still enjoying his 
attention."

I could feel that I was blushing, "please, can I close 
my legs now?"

"You’ve not really introduced yourself to us properly 
yet, and there's lots about you I want to know. Let’s 
compromise. Morris shut the door." 

It went dark again, "There, now the light gone you lay 
back again and just rest your arms behind your neck, 
while we talk."

"I would still prefer it if I could close my legs."

"Be a good girl and don’t get me angry, you said you’d 
come to show me your fruit."

I lay back as instructed, the boys making sure I was 
wide open.

"They tell me you’re a church girl and a school teacher 
as well," he said. 

"Yes, that right," I said. 

"Well now we can have a little talk and you can tell me 
all about yourself," he said. 

There was only a dim light bulb, on the wall behind me 
so I knew that he wouldn’t be able to see much 
(especially compared with what he had already seen). 
Just then the door swung open letting in a shaft of 
bright sunlight, which was almost blinding me, but 
illuminating my crotch to perfection. Although I 
couldn’t make out by sight who was stood in the 
doorway, I recognized the voice as one of the men from 
earlier in the yard. 

"Your brother’s here, Di," he said. 

"Well tell him to hurry up and come in, the sunlight is 
blinding little Margaret here," said Mr. Jones. 

A second figure appeared in the doorway, and stood 
there long enough to get a good look at what I was now 
displaying, and then he came in shutting the door 
behind him. 

"Hi Di, Hi boys, and is that Mrs. King I see sitting 
there," he said. With the sunlight now gone, I was back 
in shadow; the figure was lit by the dim bulb. As my 
eyes regained there focus I recognized the police 
sergeant that we had been reporting all our problems 
to, Mr. Joneses brother. 

"It surely is, she’s come to offer her jam pot," said 
farmer Jones. "Well, as I’m here on official business 
Di, I would prefer it if Mrs. King could talk to me 
alone," said Sergeant Jones. 

Farmer Jones grunted in disapproval, but he got up, and 
beckoned to the boys, "come on lads." Sergeant Jones 
sat down in the chair, the door opened, the shaft of 
sunlight returned, and they seemed to take for ever 
before the door was shut eventually again. The sergeant 
had had plenty of time, now sitting quite close to look 
at my display.
 
"Now Mrs. King. Did you come up to see Di of your own 
accord, without anyone forcing you?" 

"Yes, I came to try and make peace." 

"What did you say to Di when you arrived?" 

I now felt quite foolish, having to repeat the silly 
phrase. 

"I quoted an old traditional phrase that the boys had 
taught me." 

"How’s that go then?" 

"Good day Mr. Jones, I’ve come to introduce myself my 
name is Margaret. I want to show you my jam pot; I’ll 
open it wide so you can sample my fruit." 

"And were you sitting there like that when you said 
this to him?" 

"No, I didn’t sit down until I was ready to quote a 
second phrase."

"Well before you tell me what you said next, what was 
Di’s reply to your first offer?" 

"He said something like, I was very welcome, and would 
I sit in this milking chair in the traditional way and 
show them what I’d got to offer."
 
"Right, and then you sat down like you are now, leaning 
back, legs spread wide open, jam pot on show, and said 
what?" 

I know I was slow on the up take, but I started to 
realize that the jam pot was not the preserves. I 
couldn’t bring myself to repeat the words. 

"Now Mrs. King this is an official inquiry, so I’ll 
repeat, what did you say next?" 

"Well it was just what the boys told me to say." 

"Please Mrs. Jones just tell me what answer you gave to 
Di when he asked you to show what you’d got to offer." 

"I said, if you like what you see, don’t wait to be 
asked, just help yourself. You can share it with your 
friends there’s plenty for all." 

"Right, I think I get the picture, your secret’s safe 
with me, I wont write this up in my notebook, I guess 
I’d better let Di come back in and give you a fucking. 
Looking at the number of flies round your cunt you must 
be well on heat," he said as he shone his powerful 
torch on my crotch. 

"No," I exclaimed, "it’s not like that, I wasn’t 
offering to let them make love to me."

"Well if you come to the station tomorrow, reporting 
you’ve been raped, I’ll have to put it down in 
evidence, explaining what you were showing and what you 
offered to them."

He got up quickly and made for the door.

"No please. Can I go back with you now?" 

Before I could get to my feet he’d opened the door, and 
as he was leaving, he shouted back, "Sorry love I can’t 
hear you with the noise of all these sheep."

As he disappeared, before I’d had chance to stand up 
Mr. Jones and his boys came back in, The boys rushed 
across to take hold of me persuading me to regain my 
seated position, one boy knelt either side of me and 
Mr. Jones sat on his chair. 

Mr. Jones spoke, "Well now he’s gone, you can start to 
introduce yourself; I believe you sing in the choir." 

I was taken aback, was this really just an innocent 
ritual? 

"Yes" I replied, and thinking this was just innocent 
conversation, I moved my knees together to cover up my 
crotch. 

"Bloody hell woman!" He bald, at the top of his voice, 
"is there no pleasing you. By rights I should have you 
in the back of the barn by now, with me and all the 
lads fucking you silly. Don’t you remember what you 
said you came up here for?"

His change in mood scared me, so I immediately let my 
legs fall apart again. 

"I... I’m sorry, please don’t shout, lets just sit and 
talk, I’ll keep my legs where they are," I said 
timidly.

"And get those bloody hands by your side, else I’ll get 
the lads to spread you," he snapped.

I rapidly moved my hands, and one landed on Bryan’s 
legs, he grabbed it quickly, and slid it up his inside 
leg, until it reached a bulge in his trousers, he then 
held it tightly on his pulsing bulge. I did not look, 
or dare to struggle, I thought it best to let the 
atmosphere calm down.

"That’s better, but give me a bit more leg room, I’m 
getting cramp in my leg crunched up like this," there 
was still a sharp edge in his voice, reluctantly I 
slowly opened my knees, to give him room to move his 
legs.

His voice rang out loud and angry again, "You’re not 
really trying to be friendly, are you. I think it is 
about time the boys and I taught you a lesson."

"No, please tell me what I’ve done wrong, I didn’t mean 
to upset you," I was now reduced to tears.

"I asked you to give me more leg room, not shuffle your 
arse!"

I was now terrified, and I spread my legs wide apart, 
so wide that they were now resting on top of the legs 
of the boys who were kneeling alongside of me."

"That’s more like it," he said, his voice a lot calmer. 
"Now stop your crying, and let’s hear you answer some 
questions, so that we can all get to know you better. 
First question, do you believe in god?"

This took me by surprise, and I tried to calm myself, 
just managing to reply "Yes, passionately."

"Then do you believe everything that god make is for a 
purpose?"

"Yes, of course."

"Even that lump of meat that you’ve got in your hand?"

He was referring to Bryan’s prick, which I had not yet 
managed to get my hand away from.

"Well yes."

"Well what did god make that for, apart from it being 
something he can piss through?"

"God made that for when he gets married."

"And your pretty cunt, what’s that for?"

"God made that so we could raise children."

"Do you think he made a mistake with yours?"

"No. Why?"

"Well a dog only starts wetting up when she’s in 
season, about twice a year. Your cunt wets after just a 
few strokes. Only five minutes ago you were wetting, 
but I’ll bet if I started a little rub now, you’d be 
lifting in less than a minute."

"Why are you talking like this, you know it’s 
embarrassing me?" I bleated.

"That’s it woman, you’ve had all the chances your 
getting," he shouted angrily, as he rose to his feet. 
"Get her up and let’s have her in the slaughter house," 
he snapped at the boys.

He was furious, the boys grabbed me, arms under my 
legs, laid back, spread wide open, the way I had been 
carried across the yard, I struggled with all the 
strength that I could muster but they were just too 
strong, I screamed at the top of my voice, "please 
someone help me!" 

To my relief as we were leaving the back of the shed to 
enter the barn, the door to the yard swung open and the 
three men from the yard came running in. What made me 
think they had come to help me, I don’t know. But it 
was obvious that they hadn’t.

The first one said, "oh good! We gonna lay her out in 
the slaughter house." 

They laughed, and made crude comments as they made 
there way through the long barn. It was now certain 
that I was going to be gang raped. There was absolutely 
no way that I would be able to report this to the 
police, with Sergeant Jones having already heard my 
offer. I wasn’t sure exactly where they were taking me, 
but I knew that I had very little time left to change 
my fate. 

I stopped struggling (not that they noticed), and 
called, "Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones, please stop and listen 
to me, I really do want to please you," my call fell on 
deaf ears, 

"Please! Please! Please, let me do something to change 
your mind."

"Shut up you silly little bitch" said one of the men, 
"Mr. Jones doesn’t want to hear your stupid bleating, 
your gonna please all of us, we’ll fuck you real good."

I think it was that man trying to speak for Mr. Jones 
that saved the day.

Mr. Jones snapped, "What do you know about what Mr. 
Jones wants or doesn’t want, I make my own decisions, 
and I’ve decided that you three can piss off back to 
the yard and carry on with the sheep shearing that I’m 
paying you for."

Everybody stopped in their tracks, the men didn’t say a 
word to Mr. Jones, but as they walked away you could 
hear them all having a go at the man who had annoyed 
Mr. Jones. The boys stood still waiting for the next 
instruction. Patch (the dog) had arrived on the scene, 
and Bryan was getting amusement from lowering me down 
sufficient so that patch could resume his licking. 

Mr. Jones grunted, "Pass her here, I’ll take her, 
Bryan, go take that bloody dog back to its kennel, and 
make sure he’s locked in. Morris, go and get a torch 
and hurry up about it."

I had now been transferred to Mr. Jones who had me held 
to his chest; I had my arms around his neck. My legs 
were now closed, but my dress was trailing in the muck, 
although this was a minor issue considering how close 
that rape had come.

I thought I would try to calm him down, by saying, "do 
you want me to talk to you about my wet panties?"

"Wet panties, if that’s the best you can do I might as 
well let the lads fuck you."

Well, I realized he was going to take a lot more 
calming down this time, "Do you want me laid back in 
the chair, so you can have a close look at me?"

"You women are all the same, when I ask you a question; 
I get silence, when I want time to think you can’t stop 
rattling."

I decided to keep quiet until he told me to speak.

Next second we stopped against the far wall of the 
barn. This side of the barn was pitch black with a high 
stone wall, at least twenty foot high.

"Get that bloody torch over here Morris," he snapped.

Without a word Morris rushed past, the torch in his 
hand lighting up a big heavy door in the stone wall of 
the barn, he lifted the catch and pulled the door open. 
The light of the torch now showed the thickness of the 
wall, it must have been at least three foot, with 
another door at the other side. 

He lifted the catch, and pushed this door open, to 
reveal a large room about twelve foot square, he walked 
in ahead of us, turning to shine his light in the door 
way, so that Mr. Jones could see where he was stepping. 
He then turned and shone the light to the large bed 
that was in the middle of the room, where Mr. Jones put 
me down. 

Morris walked round the bed to the far side of the 
room, and lit a small oil lamp that was placed on a box 
near the wall. He then turned off the torch and placed 
it on the box along side the lamp. The torch had not 
been that bright, but now it was turned off the oil 
lamp produced only a small flickering pool of light in 
the front far corner of the room. 

With what I had seen in the torch light, and what I was 
now beginning to be able to distinguish, this room was 
the barest of places I had seen. It containing only the 
bed I sat on and the small box in the corner where the 
lamp was giving the dimmest glimmer of light. 

Mr. Jones said nothing for several minutes, obviously 
letting me have time to assess my situation, and then 
suddenly. 

"Well love lets explain where we are and what happens 
next. You see this used to be a slaughter house, it's 
built into the side of the hill that's at the back of 
the barn. It’s totally under ground, with walls so 
thick and double doors so that the animals in the barn 
couldn’t hear there mates been killed, cuz that would 
spook them. But as you can see we don’t do that any 
more, so we use this room for another kind of 
butchering. And those thick walls make sure that no 
matter how loud the bitches scream, you wouldn’t hear a 
thing in the barn next door."

I sat motionless listening to his every chilling word, 
he held out his hand, which I reluctantly took, he led 
me off the bed, and walked me across to the wall where 
there were several photos pinned to a wooden beam. They 
ranged from very old sepia ones that must have been 
taken in the early nineteen hundreds, to modern colour 
pictures. The first one to catch my eye was a colour 
picture, and I recognized the face to be Mrs. Trump, 
the previous owner of our house. She was naked, on her 
back, with legs and arms stretched out and tied to what 
was obviously the bed behind me, her smiling face was 
clearly visible, there was someone on top of her, whose 
prick was buried deep into her cunt. I stared in 
disbelief.

"You like that one," said Mr. Jones.

"No, its not that," I said, "I thought I recognized the 
lady."

"I’m sure you do," he said, "its Barbara, who you 
bought the house off, she looks like she’s having fun 
don’t she?"

I didn’t reply.

This obviously got him angry again, as he snapped.

"I said, she looks like she’s having fun don’t she?"

"Yes."

"For a school teacher, you don’t learn very well do 
you? You should know by now I’ve got a short fuse. When 
I ask a question, I expect an answer, not a dumb 
silence. This is your very last chance; one more 
hesitation, and I’ll call the shearing lads in, and me 
and my boys will fuck you till you can’t stand up."

All of the photos that were on the beam showed women, 
and girls, some very young, all being abused in one way 
or another, whilst being strapped to that bed. The hair 
styles, the clothes (where any were still on), all 
indicated this bed had been in use for many years and 
had claimed many victims. I knew by his tone that I 
would have to be very careful not to be one of them.

"I’m so sorry," I quickly replied.

"I’m not so sure about that." (Pause). "It’s about time 
you proved that you want to please me."

"Please just tell me what you want."

"Well let’s say I’m trying to be your friend, I don’t 
want to see you upset, so this is what I’m going to do. 
Before I ask you a question, I’ll explain the outcome 
that your different answers would make happen. This way 
you’ll get time to consider your answer, then we won’t 
get these pregnant pauses, and I won’t get upset."

"I’m not quite sure I know what you mean but if that’s 
what you want to do, of course it’s alright with me," I 
hastily replied.

"Right I’ll give you an example. Now don’t answer until 
I tell you to. Now supposing I said I think that it’s a 
waste of time you wearing that dress, would you like to 
take it off. You would have to consider the 
alternatives. If I leave it on, it ain’t covering up 
any thing, apart from your shoulders, it keeps getting 
in the way, its getting dirty, and old Di will probably 
blow his top, and you’ll end up getting fucked by him 
and his mates. 

"On the other hand, if you take it off, you won’t 
really be showing anything more than you are now, it 
won’t keep getting in the way, it won’t get any 
dirtier, and old Di will probably calm down. Then maybe 
after we had our talk, all the problems that we’ve been 
having down at the house will be over, and he might let 
me go home. Now you see, you’ve had time to consider 
the alternatives. And when I say to you, ‘what’s your 
answer’? I’ll expect an instant yes or no. Do you see 
what I mean now?"

"Yes, I understand," I said quickly.

"That’s good, now were learning. Well, what’s your 
answer?"

"Yes," I snapped. I had as he said. Had time to think 
through the alternatives, and his assessment of my 
predicament was pretty accurate, what had I got to 
lose?

"Right my dear, do you want any help."

"No, I’ll have it off as quickly as I can."

"Now I think you and me are starting to understand one 
another."

I undid the fasteners that were on the top of my dress 
and lowered it off my left shoulder, folded it, and 
passed it to Morris who was standing there with his 
arms stretched out; he took it to the other side of the 
room and placed it on the box. By this time all of our 
eyes had got used to the lack of light, and I could 
make out that Bryan was also in the room standing by 
the now closed door. I stood there alongside the bed, 
in just panties and bra. Mr. Jones pointed to the 
middle of the bed, and said, "Jump up, lie back, and 
make yourself comfortable."

I did as I was told. The sheets on the bed were 
obviously stained with what I can only suppose was the 
residue from one type of bodily fluid or another, it 
felt hard and crusty in patches. As I lay back I 
thought what now. I turned my head to Mr. Jones and 
waited for his next instruction.

"Can you edge your way right to the top of the bed 
love, I’m not as young as I used to be, we haven’t any 
chairs in here, can you make room for me to sit at the 
foot?" He said very softly.

I responded instantly, "Yes, I’m sorry I never 
thought," I wriggle furiously to make room for him, 
until I could feel the bars of the bed head on my hair. 
"Is that enough for you?" I asked trying my best to 
keep his calm temperament.

"Yes that’ll be fine," he said. "Now before I sit down 
do you think you’re ready to prove you want to please 
me?"

"Yes, just ask," I said, not knowing what I was letting 
myself in for.

"Well, like before. I’ll ask the question, give you the 
alternatives, then expect an instant answer, is that 
understood?"

"Yes."

"If I said, will you take off your panties, and you 
said no, we would be back to the situation where I call 
the shearing lads in, and me and my boys will fuck you 
till you can’t stand up. But if you said yes, I 
wouldn’t be able to see any more of you than I have 
already seen, especially with that bloody little oil 
lamp. But I would consider this to be a really friendly 
gesture. Then we could continue our talk, and maybe 
after we had our talk, all the problems that you’ve 
been having down at the house will be over, and I’ll 
let you go home. Think about it. Right answer now."

"YES," I was almost shouting, scared of the 
alternative.

My hands were furiously tugging at my waist band, I 
lifted my legs high towards my head, and the panties 
were gone in an instant. I returned my legs back down 
the bed and smiled, hoping this would please him.

"That was good, now open up wide to give me plenty of 
room to sit on the bed."

This time he had not given me the alternatives, and 
time to think, I guess the alternatives were obvious, 
so I gradually started to open my legs. The light was 
dim and I was in a shadow, but never the less it was 
all I could do to keep them legs moving wider, and 
wider, until.

"That’ll do," he said.

I was taken by surprise, although I was spread quite 
wide, I had expected him to let me carry on to the full 
splits position. I plucked up my courage and tried a 
big beaming smile, thinking this would be a good idea.

"Now lift up your knees, and spread until I say stop," 
his voice was still gentle and calm.

I complied with his wish; he climbed on the bed, 
kneeling in between my legs. As before one boy either 
side put a hand on my knee and held me open.

"Right, now we can carry on our little talk about how 
easy your cunt juices up, can't we?"

"Yes," I said not wanting to show any signs of 
hesitation.

"I can see you’re nervous, so if any question is too 
difficult to answer straight off, instead of laying 
there silent, which you know will get me annoyed. Just 
lift your cunt up and down as fast as you can and I’ll 
repeat the question and give you the alternatives. 
That’ll give you time to think, and you wont end up 
with your photo on the wall like all the rest. Do you 
understand that?"

"Yes, thank you," I said.

"Right lets give it a try so I know what I’m looking 
for."

I lifted and lowered. A couple of times, it felt so 
humiliating.

"Not bad I suppose, can you try to put a bit more 
effort into it. Go on, have another go."

I humped as fast as I could manage, and I saw a smile 
appear on his face.

"That was good, now you know what you’ve got to do when 
you’re asked a question? 

"Yes."

"You’re quite comfortable?"

"Yes I’m all right like this," I wasn’t, but there 
wasn’t any point in complaining.

"Back to your juicy cunt," then he rose his voice, 
"BRYAN, leave her leg alone, and go and stand by the 
door." Bryan had been rubbing his hand slowly up and 
down my inner thigh. He had been getting gradually 
closer and closer to my crotch. He had now reached the 
point where the side of his fingers were touching my 
cunt lips. The abrupt command from his dad had stopped 
him dead, he got up. But as he rose, he made a sly 
stroke across my cunt and pushed hard with his middle 
finger. It momentarily found its desired target, and I 
let out a loud gasp. 

"Oh!," as his full finger length was sliding up my 
juicy hole. 

While I had been laying there terrified, and trying to 
protect my chastity, my cunt must have had a mind of 
its own; it was positively dripping as if with 
anticipation. Bryan pulled it out quickly; and made his 
way to the corner, dodging what would have been a heavy 
blow from Mr. Jones’s fist.

Turning back to me Mr. Jones said, "Are you Alright my 
love, did he hurt you."

"No, I’m ok," I said.

"Was that a no? Your not alright, or no? It didn’t 
hurt?"

"I meant, yes I am alright, but no he didn’t hurt me. 
Thank you for stopping him."

"Why did you let out that cry then?"

"I don’t really know."

"Be very careful with your answers, I think you do 
know. I think I know as well, now once again, did you 
gasp cuz it hurt, or was it just that you weren’t 
expecting it?"

"Yes that right, I wasn’t expecting it and it took me 
by surprise."

"But you’re sure it didn’t hurt?"

Because he rammed it up so quickly, it had hurt 
slightly. But fearing that Mr. Jones would have 
punished Bryan, and I don’t like violence, I lied, and 
said, "No, I’m alright."

"You said it didn’t hurt, but what did he actually do 
to you? Now remember Morris saw it happen, and I can 
also ask Bryan. So make sure you tell me exactly what 
he did."

"He put his f-f-finger in me." I stammered.

"In you? In you, where?"

"In my hole."

"Which hole? Your mouth?"

"No, my Vagina."

"Never heard of a vagina, do you mean your cunt?"

"Yes."

"I’m getting annoyed; you still haven’t said where he 
put his finger?"

"He put his finger in my cunt."

"How much of his finger? Which finger? And don’t forget 
to say where he put it."

"He pushed all of his middle finger right up my cunt."

"So Bryan pushed the whole of that great big fat 
finger, right up your cunt. But it didn’t hurt?"

"No, it didn’t hurt," I lied again.

"So if you were looking to do something to please me, 
and your sure it doesn’t hurt when you get a finger 
poked up your cunt, what about asking if I want to poke 
your hole for a bit?"

"I-I don’t know," I stammered.

"What have you forgot to do? Come on, what should you 
had done when you didn’t know what to answer?" He was 
getting louder.

"I-I’m sorry; I should have lifted up and down."

"When I want you to talk, you stay dumb and nod, now I 
want pumping action, you start talking, now come on, if 
you want time to think, pump that cunt."

I lifted up and down, pumping my hips, boy did I pump, 
I was scared out of my wits.

"Right, hold on a minute. Don’t wear yourself out. 
Bryan lets have a bit of light."

I stared in disbelief, four lights started to shine 
dimly at first, gradually getting brighter. These were 
not house light bulbs, but the big spot light that you 
see at the theatre. Three along the wall behind the 
foot of the bed, one mounted in each corner high 
against the roof, the other centrally about four feet 
off the floor. The fourth light was on the roof 
pointing directly down at my crotch.

Mr. Jones said, "that’s bright enough for now, till my 
eyes get used to it, but stop there just in case we 
need them re-positioning."

He then shifted himself to the side of the bed where 
Bryan had been, so that the low spot light on the far 
wall could do its job. He put his hand on my inner 
thigh, and started the same thing the Bryan had been 
doing only moments before. 

With his other hand he took hold of Morris’s hand and 
encouraged him to do the same to my other leg. They 
were both stroking to the top until there hands were 
both touching my cunt lips on each stroke. I laid there 
still terrified.

"Now we can see what’s going on would you like to show 
us that pumping?"

I pumped, and Mr. Jones’s hand lay across my crotch, so 
that I was giving myself a brisk rubbing.

"Ok love; now bring it down to a slow lifting action."

I slowed.

"No slower still."

As he said this I was at the end of an up stroke, I 
lowered myself very slowly down, when my bottom touched 
the sheet I was about to start on the up stroke.

"Stop; Are you ready to answer my question now?"

"Yes I’m ready to do what you want, but I don’t know 
which question you mean," I was terrified and almost 
ready to submit to anything.

"Would you like to please me, by asking me to poke your 
cunt?"

"Yes, please."

"Please what?"

"Poke me."

"Poke you where?"

"In my hole."

"Which hole? Your mouth?"

"Please poke my cunt."

"Now say it again loud, but invitingly as though you 
really want it, Please Mr. Jones poke my cunt."

"Please Mr. Jones poke my cunt for me."

He placed the end of his finger at the entrance to my 
hole, and said, "come on girl lift that cunt."

I did, it slid up effortlessly.

After about a dozen strokes, he said, "ok love you can 
stop now. That was just to see if you were going to be 
friendly to me. We can carry on talking now, if you 
want."

"Yes please," I said.

"Where did we get to?" he asked.

I quickly replied, "You wanted to talk about my juicy 
cunt."

"That’s right, and now I’ve had a chance to see just 
how quickly it juices up, I was right, wasn’t I?"

I knew he wanted the full answer, "Yes, my cunt does 
juice up quickly."

"How often does Jim fuck you?"

I paused, his face started to change, I knew he was 
going to explode, but I couldn’t answer, so I suddenly 
started pumping up and down. His face changed again, 
and a smile appeared.

"That’s right, your learning. Ok stop now, we don’t 
want to wear you out. Now I’m sure you know what will 
happen if you don’t answer. So I can only assume that 
you wanted time to think. Well now I think that little 
pause should have been long enough, so let’s have a 
nice loud truthful answer now."

"Usually about once a month," I said quickly.

"My god he’s worse than most married men, and still 
only a young bloke. What’s the most number of times 
that he has ever fucked you in one night?"

"Three."

"When was that, when you were courting?"

"No, we never made love till we got married."

"What’s the most times that anyone else has ever fucked 
you in one night?"

"I’ve never been with any other man but Jim."

"So you’ve got a cunt that wets up without hardly any 
encouragement, can take a big pork sausage of a finger 
with ease, and it gets used only once a month. God gave 
you a cunt that can be fucked at least ten times a day, 
and you keep hidden away and use it once a month. Is 
that right."

"Yes, I suppose your right."

"Does Jim leave it in to soak, after he’s cum?"

"Jim always takes it out before he ejaculates."

"Don’t get me angry with them fancy words, if you don’t 
talk my language, then I’ll have to lets the lads 
educate you, understand?"

"Yes, I’m sorry."

"So Jim never cums his muck up inside you?"

"No."

"Nobody has ever cum inside you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"There’s only ever been Jim, and we’re not ready for 
children."

"So what he do with his muck?"

"He uses an old handkerchief."

"So you've never really been fucked properly, in your 
life?"

"I thought that Jim was doing it properly."

"If you’ve never had a man cum inside and soak his 
prick, then you’ve never had an orgasm?"

"I’m not sure what an orgasm feels like."

"Well I’m not a woman, but the way they behave when 
I’ve given them an orgasm, I’m sure that you would know 
if it had happened. You’re missing out on one of the 
greatest pleasures that god invented, some of the gal's 
in those pictures, were Cumming five or more times in 
one session on this bed. Even last week we had a virgin 
of thirteen, and she had two orgasms’. Some of them 
stains under you are from her. 

"Come on lift up and take a look, the blood is from 
when I popped her cherry, and the big stain from is 
where her cunt almost exploded when she cum. She 
struggled and screamed for at least ten minutes, but 
two hours later, she was asking if anyone would mount 
her again, she loved it. You see god gave you that cunt 
for a reason. They always say he moves in mysterious 
ways. Well, all this trouble you’re having down at the 
house is god’s way of getting you to come and see me. 
Because if you let me give you a fucking, and give 
yourself freely, then tomorrow the lads will clean out 
the water tank, and you’ll have fresh water. 

"I'll get my cousin to bring in his men and re-plant 
your gardens, lawns and clean up all the mess and we’ll 
be the best of friends for life. You’ll probably get 
your first orgasm, and you’ll be home making Jims tea 
before you know it. And your little cunt will be just 
as good as ever, ready for Jim’s once a month fuck. 

"The alternative is that we strap you to the bed, and 
we'll all give you a fucking. But after that we won’t 
be friends, and I’ll probably want a shit, so I’ll go 
up to the water tank. Now you’ve had plenty of time to 
work out your answer, what it going to be, do you want 
me to fuck you?"

I knew I hadn’t got a choice, "Yes of course I do."

He climbed off the bed and started to undress, "Take 
off your bra love, I like to nibble on some titty 
whilst I’m fucking."

I sat up, put my arms behind my back undid my bra; I 
was just about to lie back when I herd a noise at the 
back of the room. Peering through the strong beams of 
light I could see the shapes of more than just one man 
at the back of the room. I had thought that Bryan was 
the only one standing at the back; I now knew I had a 
much larger audience. There was nothing I could do, so 
I just laid back and tried to pretend that they weren’t 
there. 

I looked at Mr. Jones who was climbing into position, 
his prick was big and thick, at least an inch longer 
than Jim’s, and much thicker. I started to worry, would 
my cunt be big enough. He entered the end, that wasn’t 
too bad, then he pushed, my cunt swelled open to take 
it. Don’t get me wrong I knew it was stretching the 
flesh more than it had ever been before, but I was 
amazed that my little body could take it so easy. 

In no time I was pushing as hard as he was, and I 
couldn’t seem to get enough. His fucking wasn’t like 
Jim’s, all short rapid strokes, and lasting about ten 
minutes. This was long slow thrusting, each thrust 
stretching my belly. He was, nibbling at my tits, as he 
said he would be, and at first I thought it was 
painful, but I was even getting to like that. I was 
thinking this is going to last forever, as he pumped 
relentlessly on. Gradually I noticed that his strokes 
were getting faster, and there was a rush of muscle 
contractions starting to affect my cunt. 

"Are you ready to come?" He said.

"I-I don’t know."

"Well I am," he said.

"Take it out quick then," I cried.

"Don’t be a silly girl; you ain’t been fucked till 
you’ve had a bit of cum in you."

I started to struggle, and although I sure he could 
have managed without help, I felt the ever present boys 
taking hold of my legs and stretching hard. As he 
pumped his sticky fluid, my cunt contracted in spasms 
as if I had been plugged into the mains, and although 
being held wide I lifted and pumped uncontrollably. He 
slumped down his heavy weight lying on my tiny frame, I 
was in pain and in ecstasy, but I don’t know which was 
the most potent. It seemed and age, his prick had 
shrunk and slipped out, but he lay there his body 
pinning me to the bed. Then he lifted his head, opened 
his eyes, looked at me and said, "Well?"

"Thank you," I replied.

He climbed off, and stood at the side of the bed, 
looking at me. The boys had let go of my legs, but I 
still hadn’t closed them fully. I realized everyone was 
crowding around the bed to get a good look. They were 
making comments about my performance, and about the 
amount of come dribbling out of my cunt. The older men 
were explaining, most of that is hers, she’s a real 
natural. I could see Bryan tugging at Mr. Jones's arm 
and jigging about like a young child pestering its mom 
for an ice-cream, and then Mr. Jones nodded his head. 

It didn’t take any words; Bryan was ripping at his 
clothes, stripping off as fast as he could. I guessed 
what was coming next but realized that it was pointless 
fighting. He didn’t climb on the bed, he leapt, I 
lifted my legs open to accommodate him, and away he 
went. His prick was slightly bigger than his dad, but I 
wasn’t scared any more, I just pushed hard and fast. He 
was going like a runaway train, pumping at a hundred 
strokes a second, there must have been steam coming out 
of my cunt. 

He went fast and burned out quickly, he was coming in 
no more than two minutes. He pulled out almost straight 
away, and knelt down, as if to see what damage he had 
done. Although I couldn’t see what they were all 
looking at, I could feel it was all still intact and 
good working order. I let my legs relax, but as before, 
left then fairly wide. The comments were still coming, 
and I was feeling curiously proud of the remarks they 
were making.

There was some sort of banter going on about Morris, 
and I suspected it was because he was probably a 
virgin. I thought he would be a gentle lover, so as I 
could see they were egging him on and helping him to 
undress; I lent up, held out my hands and beckoned him 
towards me.

"Come on Morris, ignore the rest of them, you come and 
give me a good time."

At that moment they pulled down his pants, to expose 
what looked like a prick off a horse! 

I was used to horse riding, and at some time, if you 
are at the stables you are bound to see a horse’s dick. 
The only difference that I could see between Morris’s 
dick and a horse’s, was that his was standing bolt 
upright, like a guard out side Buckingham palace.

I now realized the ribbing that he was getting wasn’t 
because he was a virgin, but, they didn’t think he 
would be able to get it in. I started to worry about my 
cunt, would he rip it to bits. He climbed slowly into 
position; I leaned forward and reached down to help him 
in. When I took hold I realized that his prick was not 
solid, as if he was not fully turned on, this great big 
man was shy, and all the mickey taking must have taken 
the edge of his ardour.

He was still hard enough to enable me to grip half way 
down its length, and push gently into my cunt. I 
pushed, and to my surprise the mouth of my cunt just 
kept stretching, I pushed more, and more went in, this 
was really stretching me. I was pulling my legs open as 
hard as my muscles would go. The men at the sides of 
the bed decided I needed some help, and they started 
pulling, I didn’t mind, although I don’t think it was 
really helping. Now I had got it started, I said to 
Morris, "Just give it a push to see if it will go."

He gave a push, I felt my belly pump up as the mound of 
flesh slid up inside, once again I couldn’t tell if it 
was joy or pain, but I knew I wanted more of it.

"Fuck me Morris I cried, fuck me."

He did.

The first push had sent that entire monster inside, and 
his balls had bounced against my arse.

He started to pump violently, like his brother, short 
fast strokes, but his prick was getting harder. He was 
now getting fully aroused; his prick was swelling, and 
getting longer. I could soon feel it ramming hard at 
top of my womb, and his balls were not now reaching my 
arse. I was gasping for breath, and wondering whether I 
would last out without having to ask him to take it 
easier, when, the characteristic change in pace told me 
it would soon be over. 

"Ugh... ugh aahhh," Morris breathlessly gasped.

He had cum. I on the other hand had not really got 
started, but I whispered in his ear, "That was 
wonderful."

This brought a great big smile to his face, and he 
started to pull his prick out, even pulling out was 
hurting. The loud ‘plop’ sound that it made when the 
knob end dropped out made them all start laughing, and 
even I found it funny and couldn’t stop myself 
grinning. They were all closing in to inspect the 
damage, and Mr. Jones asked, "Are you still alright?"

"I’m hurting a bit, but I think I’m ok."

Next up to the bed was Sergeant Jones; he looked 
closely at my hole, and said, "Ok if I have a go now 
love?"

What could I say, "Yes, be my guest."

He started to strip and fold his uniform neatly, as he 
was getting ready, Old Mr. Jones sat on the edge of the 
bed, and started poking his finger in my cunt, and 
sliding it down across my arse. Then he started, 
pushing the end of his finger in my arse. He was 
starring at me with a stern look on his face, and I 
took this to mean that I shouldn’t start protesting. 

He was taking his time working the finger up a little 
more each time, until he got a full finger. The amount 
of cum and cunt juice around my holes and his slow 
progress meant that it didn’t really hurt; it was just 
something that I wasn’t used to. He poked half a dozen 
strokes of full finger, and then turning to his 
brother, "Pass it over, I think she’s ready."

Being laid down I couldn’t see what was passed, but I 
felt something pushing against my arsehole, then it 
went to my cunt, where it slid in without any trouble. 
It was cold, hard, smooth, and the amount that was 
going in, confirmed it was long. He slid it up and down 
my cunt a few times, pulled it out and started pushing 
at my arse. 

He once again gave me that stare, I winced slightly as 
it spread my arsehole, and I bit my lip so as not to 
squeal, as he pushed it up. How much was up there, or 
what it was, I didn’t know. But he looked over at one 
of the men on the other side of the bed and said, "Just 
hold the end, make sure it doesn’t slide out." He then 
got off the bed, and his naked brother climbed on. 

He lined up his prick and started his action; he had a 
similar style to his brother, slow long strokes. I soon 
got into the rhythm, and lifted on each stroke, I could 
tell this was going to be another good fuck. We both 
pumped each other for what seemed like forever, I could 
feel the spasms starting in my cunt; he could feel them 
as well. 

He said, "Feels like your ready?"

"Yes, ooh yes, cum, shoot you’re cum up me," I was 
delirious.

Boy did he cum, I thought he was never going to stop, 
it was warm inside me.

"Ooh yes, yes, more, yes, ooh."

He slumped on top of me as his brother had done before, 
and I lay there jerking with contraction, whilst the 
audience made various comments, all complementary, 
about both the sergeant’s and my performance.

They gave him time to soak his prick until it shrank 
and slipped out. He then got up and smiled at me as he 
said, "That truncheon of mine up your arse is and old 
trick I learned, it tightens up the cunt after Morris 
has been in. I’ll take it out; you should have had time 
to shrink back by now."

One of the Shearer’s standing by the side of the bed 
was already half undressed, so I thought I probably had 
three more to go. I was laid there on full display 
almost unconcerned, waiting to be fucked by total 
strangers. What had got into me? Well that is apart 
from all those pricks. 

My wandering mind started to realize that Bryan was 
once again acting like an excited child tugging at his 
dad, I couldn’t hear what he was pleading, but I 
guessed. His dad nodded, and held his arm out in front 
of the now naked Shearer to push him back. The man 
looked annoyed, but said nothing. 

Bryan was on the bed and getting stuck in, not quite as 
fast as his first go, but still a rapid pace. It was 
soon over, and Bryan was dismounting, with a smile on 
his face, "It don’t take me long, not like you 
old’uns," he said proudly.

As he climbed off the bed the Shearer once again 
started to come forward, and was once again stopped by 
old Mr. Jones. "How do you feel about our Morris having 
another go," he said looking at me.

I felt terrified, "Yes of course he can. Come on 
Morris; show them what a real man can do." What made me 
say that? Did I really want that huge prick up inside 
again? I think I must have.

My encouragement must have given him confidence, this 
was the first time I had seen the hard version of his 
prick, and was it big. I didn’t want to get Mr. Jones 
annoyed, but I had to call out to Morris, "Please, just 
put it in slowly, and take your time, until I get used 
to it."

Mr. Jones looked at me. I shook, not knowing what he 
was going to do or say.

"Listen to what she says Morris, you don’t want to 
damage that prick of yours," was the sarcastic remark. 
There was loud laughter. I didn’t see the joke, but 
when Mr. Jones gave me one of his looks, I pretended to 
be amused.

Morris was pushing, I was swelling. Bump! He was 
hitting the top already. I still knew I was being 
stretched, but it was easier than last time. He started 
with a slow pump, but could not control himself for 
long; he was soon going like the piston rods on a 
train. 

Bang. Bang, it hit the top of my womb deep inside, and 
I was getting the cunt contraction already. He started 
cumming and my cunt closed on him like a python trying 
to crush its prey. This must have given him as much 
pleasure as it was giving me, he lay still. 

With my every contraction drawing another warm jet of 
spunk out of his prick, I could feel it splashing on 
the roof of my womb. My arms were wrapped around him as 
far as I could reach, and so were my legs. As I came 
back to normal consciousness, I could hear the crude 
but wonderfully flattering remarks that every one, 
including Mr. Jones, were making about the expert use I 
was making of my cunt.

Mr. Jones tapped his son on his back, and said, "that 
was a good one son, now let someone else have a go."

What was I saying, "Mr. Jones, please let Morris fuck 
me again first." I couldn’t believe my ears. 

And I think it surprised Mr. Jones as well, "Well, do 
you want another go Morris?"

Morris didn’t answer, but away we went again, this was 
like heaven, the hurt was no more, but the pleasure was 
almost unbearable, we fucked each other, and both 
climaxed again, to a loud cheer from the onlookers.

I drifted away on cloud nine, not conscious of when 
Morris had left me, as I came back, I could feel my 
legs were being held up and wide and the audience were 
looking at my cunt.

"She’s back with us again, you can have your go now if 
you want," said Mr. Jones to the Shearer. 

I looked as he climbed on the bed and realized this was 
going to be a non event. His dick had gone soft with 
all the waiting and he knelt there wanking away to get 
an erection.

Mr. Jones leant down towards me and said, "That's your 
fault, wanting seconds of our Morris." 

Looking back to the Shearer, he said, "Come on up to 
this end of the bed, kneel astride her and let her have 
a suck till it gets hard."

He didn’t ask me, but I knew once again by that look 
that I was going to suck like a good’n. I could taste 
the semen on the end of his prick, but I wrapped my 
hands around it and entered it deep in my mouth, 
sucking like mad. It only took seconds, for it to start 
growing, and the man leant over top of me and started 
pushing in deep into my throat. I was gagging, and 
struggling for breath, when I heard.

"Come on you I only said till it gets hard."

The man continued pumping deep in my throat, "I might 
as well fuck her mouth, cuz her cunts too big now."

Mr. Jones dragged the man off me and threw him to the 
floor in a fit of rage, "I said leave her alone, I’ll 
decide if her cunt still works."

The man was laid in a heap on the floor, looking 
terrified.

"Come on get up and get stuck into her, if you don’t 
want to miss your turn altogether," Mr. Jones grunted.

The man slowly picked himself up, and climbed back in 
between my legs. He pushed his limp prick up my cunt, 
and started to pump away. "She’s slack as can be, Mr. 
Jones. Can I at least have the truncheon up her arse?"

"She’s slack because you’ve got such a small prick, and 
only a policeman is allowed to use a truncheon," he 
laughed. I must admit I started chuckling at this, but 
I soon stopped, when I heard Mr. Jones say, "If you 
can’t get on with her cunt, stick your prick up her 
arse." Turning to me he said, "Come love grab hold of 
your ankles, and pull them up above your head." 

I did, his prick slipped out of my cunt and he started 
fucking my arse. He began to smile, "that better he 
said, I can touch the sides." There were a few 
chuckles. He pumped for about ten minutes, it didn’t 
hurt, and after a while I started to get some kind of 
thrill, but it wasn’t like real fucking.

The next two Shearer’s had there turn, but that was non 
eventful, the first one had my arse, the second managed 
to get satisfaction up my cunt. Maybe it was shrinking 
back to size again. 

Randy Bryan was next, his third go, but all the while 
he was pumping I was thinking, I hope Morris wants 
another turn, and that thought was turning me on, so 
much so that when Morris did start to mount, for what 
was now his fourth fuck, I started cumming as soon as 
he hit the top of my womb. He didn’t have to pump, at 
all; he just lay still while my contractions wanked him 
off. In no time his cum was again warming up my cunt, I 
just lay back dreaming, I could have been on another 
planet. When I came round, Morris was standing at the 
bed side with the others. No one looked as if they had 
any fuck left in them; they were just admiring the 
view. I felt a weird sense of pride in the fact that I 
had drained them all. I sat up resting on my elbows, 
with knees up, and legs still wide open. I smiled and 
said cheekily, "Well gentlemen, No more takers. Surely 
I can tempt you Mr. Jones?" 

To my surprise, he replied. "Go on then, I could use 
another fuck, but move over, and let me lie down. You 
can climb on top and do the work."

Why did I open my big mouth? I did as instructed, his 
prick was standing to attention, I slid down onto it, 
even I could tell my cunt was sloppy, not just sloppy 
wet, but stretched, and loose.

"Your not very tight now love, come and tighten her up 
for me Barry (Sergeant Jones)."

I waited for the truncheon, to enter my arse. I could 
feel the bed move as Sergeant Jones climbed on, and 
prepared myself. I felt it touch my arsehole, and as he 
started to push I realized, it was softer than a 
truncheon, and warm. Up it went, and he started to 
pump. He was fucking me! 

Mr. Jones said, "come on get started again."

I started, I pumped, Barry pumped, we got a rhythm 
going, the pace was slow long strokes, and the feelings 
were welling up inside. The action kept going for at 
least fifteen minutes, till once again I felt my 
contractions starting. I could tell by the look on his 
face, that old Mr. Jones liked the way my cunt was 
gripping his prick. Very soon I had brought him to a 
climax, and his brother followed seconds after. Barry 
dismounted, I looked at Mr. Jones, and waited for his 
nod of approval, and then I climbed off him. 

I sat on the edge of the bed, Mr. Jones got up, and 
said, "Come on girl let’s get you next door, and clean 
you up."

Morris open a door in the side wall, I hadn’t noticed 
it was even there; he walked me through, and turned on 
the lights. There was a room fully equipped with bath; 
wash basin and slatted benches all round the walls. It 
was totally amazing, hot and cold running water, 
everything you could want to get cleaned up, even a 
hair dryer. We all proceeded to get cleaned up; I was 
the only one having a bath, the rest just washed in the 
basin. It felt so good, my womb was still tingling, and 
I couldn’t stop smiling. All of the men got cleaned up 
and dressed, and one by one each of them left saying 
thank you. Mr. Jones and his sons were the only ones 
left, when I was ready they helped me out of the bath, 
my legs were feeling slightly wobbly. 

I sat on the bench getting dried, when Mr. Jones asked, 
"Can we give you a licking before you go?"

I didn’t answer, I just lay back along the bench lifted 
one leg up the wall, let the other one fall to the 
floor, and waited. It was heavenly, even Bryan seemed 
to have got this one sorted; I could have lain there 
all evening. As it was they must have been at it for 
half an hour. When they finished I said, "what can I do 
about my dress?"

"Our Morris nipped back ages ago and got you a new pair 
of knickers and an old pair of jeans. They were Jim’s 
jeans, much too big, but I put then on and turned up 
the bottom of the legs. 

When they escorted me out, it was along a narrow 
corridor, with thick stone walls, we went through at 
least five big thick bolted doors, and came out in 
daylight, in a field at the house side of the barn. 

As they walked me through the field, back to the house, 
Mr. Jones reminded me that I had had quite a few loads 
of cum soaked up my cunt. He said that there was a 
chance that I could get pregnant. He advised me to get 
Jim aroused, and make sure that I got a good fucking 
from him. He said I should take Jim by surprise, at the 
moment that he was about to cum, and grip him tight 
with my legs and arms so that he can’t get his prick 
out. Then I should just say that I love him, and needed 
to be reassured after all the troubles that we’d had. 
It sounded like a good idea so I thought I’d give it a 
try. He was still going through the details, when the 
gates of our house came into sight. 

There was Jim waiting at the gate. I must have been 
still blushing when we arrived at the gate, because Jim 
said, "Are you alright, you look red faced."

"Yes darling, of course I am?"

"I think you wife is just blushing, because Morris said 
that that was the best he had ever tasted, in fact we 
all agreed, and we’ve just spent the last half hour 
licking it clean. Ain’t that right boys," said Mr. 
Jones with a broad grin on his face.

The boys were both grinning like Cheshire cats, and 
nodding uncontrollably. I just blushed more, knowing 
Mr. Jones was telling Jim about licking out my cunt. 

"Well it looks like you all had a good time, and you’ve 
all come back the best of friends," Said Jim.

"Yes Jim you’ve got a little treasure there, as long as 
she here by your side I’m sure that you’ll never have 
any more trouble." Turning to me, he said, "Tell Jim 
about my cousin coming tomorrow to put right all the 
damage. We’ll say good night, we’re going back for our 
tea now. I’ll see you tomorrow." As soon as they were 
out of earshot, Jim asked, "What are you doing in my 
jeans?"

I explained that as soon as I realized that the sheep 
were loose in the farm yard, I had hurriedly returned 
and put on something old that covered my legs because I 
would need to climb the gate. He accepted this without 
question, and even praised me for wearing something 
sensible.

That night I made sure Jim was aroused, and I fucked 
him crazy, and even got him to give me second helpings. 
He came out with some stupid remark about me feeling 
better now that all our problems were over, and that 
was why I was so randy. And anyway, he said there 
wasn’t much chance of me getting pregnant on the first 
time.

When I woke up I was feeling so good, whether it was 
the fact that our troubles were over, or the fucking 
that I’d had, I’m not sure. Jim was still sound asleep, 
I think I had totally exhausted him last night. My 
sleep had been disturbed by the sound of a tractor and 
voices outside. I slipped on my panties and bra from 
the day before, and went to peek out of the window. 
There was a great big digging machine, a small flat 
truck and about five men out in the lane. I realized it 
was Mr. Jones cousin come to repair the damage to the 
garden. Even this made me feel better, as it meant Mr. 
Jones was going to stand by his word. 

I skipped along the landing like a school girl. When I 
got to the bathroom I removed my panties, sat down and 
whilst having a pee I took off my bra, as I was going 
to get clean ones from my undies draw. I keep all my 
clothes in the back bed room, which is where I do my 
morning exercises. As you know I used to do some 
amateur ballet, so most mornings I would do my 
exercises at the bar. The bar is a round wooden beam 
mounted horizontally about three feet from the floor, 
and I had one set up in the back bedroom of our house. 

At the back of our house the hills rose very steeply. 
There was a narrow path along the back of the house, 
with a tall wall at its edge, and the back garden 
started from the top of the wall, but the wall was ten 
foot high, and the garden sloped steeply upwards from 
there. That meant that our garden fence was level with 
the back bed room window. But as only sheep were ever 
on the hill, and there was never anyone in our garden, 
I never bothered with curtains. I would normally have 
slipped on a leotard, but with all the trouble we had 
been having, I had forgotten to wash the last one. As 
the sun always poured into that room in the morning, I 
had got into the habit of wearing a sleeping mask that 
covered my eyes, to stop it blinding me. 

I glanced out into the mess that was our back garden, 
put on my mask as normal, and reached for the end of 
the bar. When at the bar I proceeded with my squatting, 
legs lifting and stretching exercises as normal. You 
can probably imagine the thing I mean. After a half 
hour workout, I removed my mask and walked to the 
window to check the clouds in the sky, to see what the 
weather was going to be like. Within two steps of 
removing my mask I realized that there was an audience 
of five men standing in our back garden leaning on the 
fence. How long they had been watching for, I don’t 
know, but they were no more than four foot away from 
me. I had been showing them my cunt and arse in full 
sunlight, stretched as wide as I could get it. I 
couldn’t hear them, but they were clapping there hands, 
giving me a round of applause. On seeing them I had 
frozen instantly, but within a split second I’d turned 
and rushed hurriedly from the room. 

I stood on the landing, shaking. Suddenly I could hear 
Jim getting out of bed. I rushed into one of the other 
spare rooms, pulled a sheet from the bed, wrapped it 
around me and sheepishly returned to the back bedroom. 
I crawled across to my set of draws, and hurriedly 
found some clothes which I took back to the spare room 
to put on. 

I then went down stairs and started preparing Jim’s 
breakfast. When he came down he was full of himself, 
any one would think that he had been the instigator of 
last nights passion. He even apologized for not 
withdrawing (as he put it), and said that any way it 
was about time we thought about starting a family. I 
put his breakfast down and he ate it as though he 
hadn’t been fed for weeks. We discussed the fact that 
Mr. Jones’s cousin had arrived, with a gang of men, at 
least seven according to Jim. Jim was worried that they 
would charge us for the work they were doing, and with 
all those men that wouldn’t be cheap. He said that as 
soon as he’d finished his meal, we should go out and 
introduce ourselves, so a not to offend them. 

I was dreading meeting any of my audience from earlier. 
As soon a he’d finished, he said, "Come on leave the 
washing up till later, let’s go and find out which one 
is Mr. Jones’s cousin and introduce ourselves." 

The first man we met outside was hosing down the back 
yard, and he said the gaffer (Mr. Jones’s cousin) was 
out the back in the garden. I was starting to blush 
already. As we walked through to the back garden, we 
nodded politely to four different men who were all 
working away at various tasks. We arrived at the back 
garden gate; Jim asked the first man, "Who’s the gaffer 
then?"

"That him," Said the man pointing. As we made our way 
across the large garden, towards the gaffer, all eyes 
were on me. I knew I was blushing brightly, I could 
almost feel their hands, or tongs on my body. Even Jim 
noticed their staring, and whispered in my ear, "Anyone 
would think they hadn’t seen a woman before. And your 
as bad, blushing like a school girl."

Jim introduced himself and me to the gaffer, who said 
his name was Di (David, same as his cousin old Mr. 
Jones the farmer). We made some polite small talk, and 
Jim gradually got round to asking whether we needed as 
many men as this, "I’m not sure whether we can really 
afford to pay this many men for a whole day," he said.

Di said, "Don’t be silly, old Di down at the farm is 
funding this lot. He wants me to make sure that I get 
it sorted out today, so as you can go away happy." 

Jim said he couldn’t thank him enough, Di said it was 
old Mr. Jones we should thank. We turned and we went 
back to the house. I spent the morning making dinner, 
and Jim did some tinkering about in his shed. When he 
came in for his dinner he couldn’t stop talking about 
how good a job the men were doing and he thought they 
would be finished soon. He was right, we had only just 
finished dinner when Di knocked on the door, and asked 
us to inspect the work to see if we were satisfied. 
They had done a brilliant job and we both thanked Di 
and told him to tell his men thank you from us both. He 
and his men packed up their equipment and left.

Later in the afternoon, Jim and I were sitting in the 
orchard, saying how wonderful it was going to be living 
here now that we had made friends with Mr. Jones, when 
we heard someone at the gate.

"Hi Jim, Margaret how’s it going?" Said the smiling Mr. 
Jones.

"Everything is perfect, and I can’t thank you enough 
for what you’ve done. You don’t know just how happy 
you’ve made my Margaret."

"Well I’m really pleased about that. And as from 
yesterday, I like to think of you both as family, which 
makes her my Margaret, as well."

"Well that’s nice of you to say, but I’m sure that she 
didn’t go to any special trouble for you yesterday."

"Special trouble or not, me and the lads really 
appreciated it, as I said yesterday it was that good we 
licked it out."

"I’m sure Margaret could spare some more if you like it 
that much. Said Jim, not realizing what Mr. Jones was 
talking about licking.

"Well if its not being too greedy are you sure you 
don’t mind Margaret? It would be right neighbourly of 
you."

"Yes that’s no problem," I said, I’ll go and get you 
some. 

As I was about to get up, Di the cousin arrived.

Mr. Jones said to his cousin that I had offered to let 
him have some more of what he’d had yesterday, and 
turning to Jim said, "Do you think they’ll be enough 
for both of us?"

"Margaret’s got plenty, and I hardly ever bother with 
it, you’d be doing me a favour. I’m sure we’ve only got 
it be cause she likes doing it so much," said Jim, his 
words fuelling Mr. Jones's imagination.

Di said, "in that case could I be cheeky and invite the 
lads up here to join in."

Jim said, "Of course you can. Hang on Margaret, I’ll 
come and give you a hand"

"Actually Jim, that’s what I came up here for, you’re 
wanted by Mrs. Jones down at the farm. She said old Di 
here is useless in the house. You nip down there and 
sort out Mrs. Jones, and we’ll give your missies a 
hand," said Di.

"Ok then I’ll go straight off now."

"While your down there find our Morris and tell him to 
sent the work gang up to the barn, tell them you’re 
missies will be there to give them a treat," said Mr. 
Jones grinning.

"Ok," called Jim as he made his way down the lane.

Jim wasn’t out of site before Di came across, stood in 
front of me and said, "Lift up your leg like you were 
doing this morning, I cant wait till we get to the barn 
to get this load of spunk out." He was placing my right 
arm over his shoulder (for me to hold on him), and he 
bent down taking hold of my leg to assist or encourage 
me to lift my left leg. Mr. Jones didn’t say a word, 
but just gave me that look that I remembered from the 
day before. I lifted my leg, he slid my panties to one 
side, and I was backed up to the old wooden table. It 
slid up easily, and he started my second session. 

We heard the train whistle blow. It was a train on the 
old narrow gauge steam railway running at the bottom of 
the valley about fifth yards away. The people in the 
carriages could just be seen when you stood up, and 
from where I was standing or leaning against the table, 
I could see them waving their hands. Di waved, as he 
fucked away. He finished too soon and as he lowered my 
leg back to the floor he said, "Oh My god love! I 
needed that. Seeing you this morning, me and the gang 
have not though of anything else all day. I nearly came 
to the house this morning while your old man was in the 
shed."

So that was it, no introductions, just a quick fuck, no 
‘thank you that was nice’, or even ‘I’m sorry to have 
fucked you in broad daylight in front of a train full 
of tourists’, (not that they could tell what he was 
doing to me).

He put his arm around me and said. "Come on lets get up 
to the barn."

I started walking with him when old Mr. Jones said.

"Hang on seeing you two together, gave me an idea. Why 
don’t we let the lads bang her here in the orchard? 
It’s a pleasant evening, With any luck we might get one 
of them groups of hill walkers come past, and we can 
invite them to join in."

"What about the film?"

"We got plenty of that yesterday, and I'm sure there’ll 
be plenty more opportunities."

I thought what film? Got plenty yesterday! What were 
they on about? My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by 
the rowdy group coming up the lane.

The gang was arriving, including Mr. Jones’s two boys; 
I counted eleven men, with Mr. Jones and his cousin 
that’s 13! Unlucky for some, and I think, the someone 
was me. It was obvious that he expected me to take them 
all, and no doubt some of them more than once.

He did, and I did. They used my every hole for the next 
two hours. I had cum more times that I could remember, 
and there were small pools of cum all over the orchard, 
where they had had me in different locations and 
positions. When they had all finished, I needed help to 
stand up, (he said yesterday that I’d get fucked till I 
couldn’t stand up), today this came true. 

Morris helped me home and took me up to my bathroom, he 
ran the water and helped me in, and then he left me. I 
just lay there, and I was still there when Jim came 
home. Jim told me how good spirits the gang of men were 
in when they had returned to the farm, "I don’t know 
how you managed to satisfy all that lot with a few jars 
of fruit preserve," he said. If only he’d known! I 
tried to get out of the bath, but I was really aching. 

As I was struggling, Jim walked in, "what’s wrong 
Margaret?"

"It’s alright, I’m just aching. My periods due soon."

"Do you want some help?"

"Please," I said holding out my arm. He helped me out 
of the bath and along the landing to the bedroom, where 
I sat on the bed.

Jim had a cheeky grin on his face, he said, "Perhaps it 
was the seeing to that I gave you last night, I must be 
too much for you." This was very uncharacteristic for 
Jim.

I lay back and closed my eyes. 

"I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you were hurting that 
bad."

I lay there for about five minutes, when Jim said, "we 
ought to be getting ready to start back home now."

"I’m not really feeling up to it just yet, do you mind 
if I stop here till you come back next week?"

"Well if you’re sure you’ll be ok."

"I’m sure I’ll be ok now we’ve made our peace with Mr. 
Jones."

"Yes, I suppose that’s one thing, now that’s all 
settled I can at least leave you here alone knowing 
that Mr. Jones and his boys will take care of you."

"Yes, I’m sure they will."

"Do you want me to call in at the farm and tell him I’m 
leaving you here, so he can come and see you’re 
alright?"

"No, please don’t, I’d rather just get some rest."

He got his things together, gave me a peck on the 
cheek, and left. I drifted off to sleep, with a dull 
ache in my groin.

When I awoke, the first thing I thought was, where’s 
Jim? It then came flooding back, what had happened the 
evening before. I started to get out of bed and felt a 
slight twinge, but considering my condition last night, 
I’d made a remarkable recovery. As I sat upright at the 
side of the bed, I was startled by something moving 
near the door. It was Morris sitting himself up from 
where he had been sleeping at the foot of my door! I 
pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around me.

As he woke, he looked momentarily confused.

"What are you doing there?" I asked.

"I... Well Da sent me up here last night to make sure 
you were alright."

"How did you know I’d be here?"

"Your Jim called in on his way home and said you 
weren’t feeling well, he asked me Da to look in and 
take care of you."

"So why are you laid there?"

"I don’t think our Da trusts our Bryan, so he asked me 
to make sure you didn’t get any callers."

"How long have you been there?"

"Since about nine last night. You were fast asleep when 
I arrived."

"You’ve been on the floor all night just to protect 
me?"

"Da said you’d done well and deserved the rest."

"That was nice of him. But hang on, how did you get in, 
I’d locked the door?"

"Jim gave Da a key. But it wouldn’t have mattered; 
we’ve got our own anyway."

"Well thanks again for stopping last night, and thanks 
for not touching me, I don’t think I could have taken 
any more."

"That’s alright. You looked so sweet laid there, like a 
little girl."

"I’m sure you can go home now, I’ll be alright."

"I will if you want, but Da did say I was to find work 
in the back field, so as to keep an eye on the house. 
But its up to you, if your feeling alright and don’t 
mind our Bryan giving you a visit, then I’ll go and get 
on with the job I’d already started down the bottom 
field."

A visit from Bryan was not what I wanted at this 
moment, so I said, "No it’s probably best to do as your 
dad said. Do you mind waiting down stairs till I get 
dressed? I’ll make you some breakfast when I come down 
if you want."

"Thanks Mrs. King, I’m starving."

I rushed around getting dressed, not bothering to wash 
and ran down the stairs. I certainly did feel a lot 
better that last night, or was I just excited having 
Morris in the house. I made his breakfast, which he ate 
rapidly, and then picked up the plate and licked it 
clean. Watching him lick the plate clean like a child, 
it was hard to imagine him licking out my cunt. But as 
I started to think that, I knew I was getting randy 
again. 

"Right," I said trying to get myself thinking of 
something else. "You can go and get on with some work 
now, because I’ve got to go and do my morning 
exercises."

"Oh please Mrs. King let me come and watch you?"

"No. I couldn’t do my exercises with you watching."

"But you did them yesterday, cuz everybody was saying 
how they’d never seen anything like it before."

"Yes but that was different. I didn’t know they were 
watching."

"Oh go on. Please. Please Mrs. King. I’ll be your slave 
for the day, I’ll do anything you want."

He’d already seen me naked, and fucked me I don’t know 
how many times. What difference could it make letting 
him see me exercise?

"Well ok then, you wait here I’ll go up and get changed 
into my leotard, then I’ll call you up."

"What’s a leotard?"

"That’s what I wear when I’m exercising."

"Everybody said you were fucking naked."

"Please don’t swear Morris, it doesn’t sound nice using 
that language."

"Everybody uses them words, except back at the farm 
when my moms in."

"I know they do, but when the others are not around, 
please pretend that I’m your mother."

"I can’t do that, cuz you keep making my cock stiff, 
and I don’t think of mom like that."

"No. I meant just don’t use any bad language when were 
alone."

"If I promise, can watch you naked?"

Why not? "Yes. But keep your distance, and don’t 
touch."

We went up stairs, he watched, I stripped, and I 
started to do my routine. At first I was finding it 
difficult to lift my legs with him sitting on the floor 
just two or three feet away. But gradually I started to 
relax; I found I was stretching for all I was worth. It 
was later in the morning than my usual routine, so 
there was no sun blinding me. I could see him staring, 
and I purposely turned in his direction as much as was 
possible and smiled as I showed him holes. I was now 
sweating profusely, and I could feel that now familiar 
tickle as the juices dribble from my cunt and down both 
my legs. It was no exaggeration to say that I was in a 
frenzy. I could see Morris holding that mighty prick, 
it was still in his trousers, but it was fighting to 
come out. 

"Oh!" thwack. I’d slipped on my own juices that had 
formed a slimy pool on the lino. I was laid on my back, 
legs open as usual, I wasn’t hurt, just momentarily 
shaken.

Morris came over and knelt over top of me, "Have you 
hurt yourself?"

"No. I’m alright."

He looked at me, almost begging, "Please can we fuck?"

"Not here, carry me to my bedroom."

He did, and then he stood back and got slowly 
undressed. He mounted me slowly and gently, pushing the 
great horse dick relentlessly in, until it reached my 
cervix. Our first fuck lasted about five minutes, but 
we fucked at least three more times. Then he rolled off 
and lay at my side. It had been just perfect; I lay 
there thinking life doesn't get much better than this.

I think we must both have drifted off to sleep, I don’t 
know how long we slept, but I know my belly felt good. 

I was dreaming, and as sometimes happens, the dream 
started to get so real that the sensations became a 
reality. I could feel Morris licking my cunt; he was 
licking, and licking. His tongue going deeper and 
deeper each lap, I was responding, stretching ever 
wider, and lifting onto each penetration. I had my eyes 
closed, and I was loving it. 

I mouthed out the words, I must have been saying them 
aloud, "Come on Morris be a good boy and lick your 
plate clean, and then momma won’t have to wash it."

In the vague distance I heard, "Look at her go, she 
thinks its Morris."

As I opened my eyes, two men were standing either side 
of the bed, who were they? That isn’t Morris licking 
me, its Bryan. Where’s Morris? He was laid bound and 
gagged in the corner. How could they, who were they? 
There was a great big long shot gun standing up against 
the wall, that’s how they had got the better of Morris. 
Morris was looking at me almost as if he was about to 
cry, I expect he was feeling guilty for not being on 
his guard. I couldn’t blame him, I’m sure he would have 
done what he could. Now back to my predicament. There 
was no one holding me, so why not try to get up. Well I 
didn’t think there was any point; I was about ready to 
resign myself to another session, when Bryan surfaced.

He knelt up in-between my legs, grinning, "You like a 
good licking don’t you bitch?"

I suddenly saw red, and thought why should he talk to 
me like that? I just stared at him in silence.

He lifted his hand and brought it up alongside my face, 
as if he was ready to slap me. 

"I asked you a question Bitch," he said threateningly.

I said nothing. SLAP!

My face stung.

"I asked you a question Bitch," he repeated.

I said nothing. He hand drew back again; I closed my 
eyes and winced. SLAP!

I started to weep.

"Answer this time bitch, or I’ll fucking kill you." He 
drew his hand back, I closed my eyes again.

"That’s enough Bryan cant you see the marks you’re 
putting on her, your Da will bloody slaughter us," said 
one of the men as he grabbed Bryan’s hand. 

Bryan struggled, but the other man joined in, "Calm 
down Bryan, lets just fuck her and go."

I thought this is my chance to capitalize on Mr. Jones 
strong brutal reputation.

"Before you lot decide, just remember that Mr. Jones 
sent Morris up here to make sure I didn’t get touched. 
Now we both no he doesn’t care about me, but when 
somebody does something that he doesn’t want he get 
mad. Now Morris knows who you are, and when I tell Mr. 
Jones that he’ll make Morris tell him. He’ll have you 
lot brought up to the barn for punishment. I’m sure if 
I played up enough I could get him to blow the balls 
off both of you. I know Bryan would get away with a 
cuff round the ear hole, but you pair would be sorted 
for life. Is one fuck with a sloppy cunt like mine 
worth the agro?"

The look on their faces, I knew I’d given them 
something to think about. They started pulling Bryan 
off the bed, he got angry, and shrugged them both off. 
They didn’t know what to do, Bryan started to mount. I 
lay back motionless, "I told you he doesn’t care about 
you pair, his dad isn’t going to mutilate him. Is he? 
But as for you two is it worth the risk." When I had 
been fucked before, I hadn’t been able to control my 
own cunt, but whether it was because I was so angry, or 
the concentration of talking, I don’t know. But I was 
managing to lie dead still, and Bryan didn’t like it.

"Come on bitch, it’s like fucking a corpse."

"I told you boys, the fuck with me will be a waste of 
time, you’d be better of going down the village and 
having one of them school girls with the tight cunts." 
I could tell it wouldn’t be long before Bryan cum his 
load.

"Well this is the last time I’ll ask, if he cums inside 
me, then you might as well have your turns, because 
this will be the last fuck you’ll ever get, and I’m 
going to lie here like a wet fish."

It was as if they were controlled by one brain, they 
both grabbed Bryan and hauled him off. 

He was protesting saying it wouldn’t have taken him 
much longer, and, "come on just let me have one or two 
more pumps." They started to help me to sit up and were 
saying your not gonna tell old Di are you. I knew I’d 
got the whip hand, and was just starting to say 
something. Then Bryan darted suddenly towards me, he 
had been finishing himself off with his hand. As he 
lunged forward and shot his cum in my face, he shouted, 
"Take that you bitch." He was a good shot, and he had 
plenty of cum. It was in my hair, and all over my face. 
One of the men landed a blow on Bryan and he slumped on 
the floor. The other man gave me an old rag out of his 
pocket, he had obviously been using it a handkerchief. 
I wipe my face, but I must still have looked a mess.

"If you pair want to keep your manhood intact, you’re 
going to have to control that idiot. Cuz if he comes 
near me, without Mr. Jones telling him to. I may not be 
able to make sure he gets what he deserves, but I’ll 
make sure you get it for him."

"What can we do about him; he’s got a mind of his own."

"You could have fooled me, I thought his brain was in 
his prick, and I think he’s shot most of that on my 
face."

"We can’t be with him all day every day," said the 
second man.

Now I know I said I didn’t like violence, but I think 
in some situations it might be justified.

"Now look you pair if you think I’m kidding you’d 
better think again. His dad might not hurt him, but if 
you pair teach him a lesson now and make sure that he 
knows that he’ll get the same again if he comes near 
me, then I’ll make sure Morris doesn’t say anything. So 
long as I don’t see Bryan or you lot again, unless Mr. 
Jones is with you, then I won't say a word"

"Come let’s get him out of here and give him a 
beating."

"Hey! Don’t forget to untie Morris before you go."

They undid some of the ropes around his wrists, and 
then dragged Bryan away, before Morris could get 
completely free.

I sat on the bed and started shaking. Morris was soon 
sitting by my side with his arm around me, I’m sure I 
was falling in love with him. He helped me to bath, and 
dress. I made his dinner, it was only twelve o’clock. 
What a morning! 

The rest of the day was uneventful; I spent my time 
lying in the orchard on a hammock, on messing about in 
my new gardens. Morris was working on some fence posts 
on the hill; he was in sight all afternoon. 

At tea time Mr. Jones came past in his tractor, and 
asked if I was feeling better.

"Yes thank you. And thanks for letting Morris stop 
around to protect me."

"Are you feeling up to another session yet?"

"Well I still feel a bit tender."

"I was being polite." His voice changed, "Do I need to 
ask you again?"

No I didn’t need asking a second time, "Yes when do you 
want me ready?"

"Well I thought that being as I’d let you have a rest 
all day, you’d want to come up to the barn and learn 
some new tricks."

"Yes please, what time?"

"You’ve seen enough of Morris today, I think I’ll send 
our Bryan to fetch you, I’ve seen him knocking around 
with a pair of his mates. I’ll bet he’d like to 
introduce you to them. Will that be ok?"

"Yes if that’s what you want." Now I was nervous.

"I’m going back to have my tea, they’ll be up in about 
an hour to collect you."

I waited nervously, expecting the worst, when the knock 
came I walked slowly, as if going to my own funeral. As 
I opened the door, and saw Morris standing there, I 
almost wet myself with excitement. 

"Where’s Bryan I asked?"

"You told his mates to sort him out; he’s in a right 
state. Da’s asked him what happened, but he ain’t 
said."

"Where is he now?"

"He’s waiting with Da up at the barn, but he won’t be 
doing anything to you tonight, the state he’s in."

I no I shouldn’t, but I was glad, I thought it is about 
time he got his just deserts. Now I’d only have to look 
after old Mr. Jones and Morris. I was actually looking 
forward to showing of with Morris and his dad in front 
of Bryan, so that he could see what he was missing. I 
was almost dragging Morris up to the barn; he didn’t 
seem too eager to arrive.

"Come on you’ll soon have that monster of yours in 
action," I teased.

When we got into the slaughter house, the flood light 
were burning bright, Bryan was sitting on a chair at 
the side of the bed towards the bottom. He did look a 
mess, I tried to look concerned, and ask if he was 
aright, but I couldn’t have cared less. I started 
getting undressed, and putting my clothes on the box. I 
climbed on the bed as if this was all normal. 

Mr. Jones spoke, "What do you know about what happened 
to our Bryan?"

"Nothing, why?"

"Well as he’s been in the wars I wondered whether you 
would like to do something to please him." This was an 
obvious order, not a question.

"Yes what ever he wants."

"Well he can’t talk very well, so I’ll tell you what 
he’s asked for."

"I said you could do with learning a new trick. Jump 
down and look under the bed."

I did, there I was naked on my hands and knees, looking 
under the bed with bum in the air, expecting some sort 
of insertion to take place. 

"Do you know what you’re looking for?"

"No I thought you just wanted to do something to me."

"Look for a large pillow."

Under the bed was a large variety of implements, most 
of which I hadn’t a clue what they were. There were 
leather straps, big false pricks, and all sorts. I 
could see the pillows, the other side of the bed. I 
went around the bed and got on the floor in front of 
Bryan and pulled two large pillows out. Bryan didn’t 
touch me, much to my surprise. Mr. Jones said to put 
the thinnest one of these pillows on the bed, and lie 
on top of it. I did, it had lifted my cunt about six 
inches off the bed.

"What do you think Bryan is that about the right 
height?"

Bryan managed again, and nodded his head. I was ever 
more curious as to my lesson.

"Right come and give Patch a bit of fuss."

I’d noticed Bryan had his trusty dog at his side, but 
the dog had seemed quiet as if knowing his master 
wasn’t well.

I got down on the floor, and started to rub the dog 
around the head and neck as you would normally fuss a 
dog.

"Come on love turn round and let him have a lick."

He’d licked me before, and it wasn’t too bad (not that 
I had any choice), so I turned around and pushed my 
bottom towards patch.

"Open your knees, come on give him a chance."

I opened, he licked, Bryan was trying to encourage the 
dog, but was finding it hard to talk.

"Morris come and lift patch onto the bed."

Morris picked patch up put him on the bed; he was 
running around in circles all excited. 

I stood up, and said, "now what?"

"Lay him down Morris."

He took the dog and told him to lie down; at the same 
time he pulled him onto his back.

"Go on then, take hold of his balls, and get sucking on 
that prick," said Mr. Jones.

I wasn’t sure whether I could put a dog’s prick in my 
mouth, but I reached across and took hold gently of his 
balls. As I did a little pink pointed prick appeared. I 
bent forward, pursed my lips, and as it touched, I 
sucked slowly and carefully. It slid in and rapidly got 
bigger, I began to push it in and out.

"Move your cunt round this way so our Bryan can have a 
feel, he’s still got a couple of fingers that work."

I turned whilst still looking after Patch, Bryan 
pushed, and I knew by the size, he was using both his 
fingers.

After a little while, "Ok love, get up now, we don’t 
want you to take him too far yet."

As I got up Bryan's fingers pulled out, I just stood 
there waiting and looking at Mr. Jones.

Morris helped the dog back to his feet, and held him 
still on the bed near the foot.

"On the pillow then love."

They weren’t really going to do this were they? I 
slowly edged myself into place on the pillow, and lay 
back waiting for the inevitable.

"What you doing, sit up and give him a hand."

I was so embarrassed, Morris led the dog up the bed 
till he was standing over me, they had judged the 
height exact. I reached down, but couldn’t find his 
prick. I took his balls with one hand and the other 
hand encouraged the tiny little member out of its 
sheath. I slid it in and out of my fingers, until it 
started to grow. I then put the end into my cunt, and 
gently squeezed his balls. Morris pushed, and patch got 
going, it soon grew in size. He was in his element, and 
gradually I could feel a large lump at the base of his 
prick. Patch was ramming as hard as he could, and 
Morris helped with a push that nearly moved me up the 
pillow. The lump went in, and patch looked happy. He 
was obviously cumming for all he was worth. He tried to 
dismount, turning round to lick his master, as if in 
triumph. He was facing the other way, while his prick 
was still buried deep in my cunt. 

Bryan fussed him for a while, nodded to Morris, who 
patted my belly, and said, "Come on patch."

Patch turned back to me and started again. This carried 
on at least six times, I lost count.

They waited till patch had lost interest, and his 
swelling had gone down. At this point it slipped out 
and patch jumped down, running around wagging his tail.

During this event they had all been calling to patch 
with words of encouragement, even my Morris.

Even though none of them had fucked me they all looked 
really happy. I still can’t understand what pleasure 
they get from this. 

Over the years, I’ve now got used to dogs, and though 
not something that I look forward to, it can sometimes 
be quite pleasurable.

Back to this first time. Mr. Jones was looking happy 
with my performance. 

I sat up on the bed and asked, "Was that alright?"

"Well Bryan certainly enjoyed seeing his dog up you. 
Did it hurt when the knot went up?"

"Was that the big swelling that held him inside me?"

"That’s right."

"No, not really, it was big, but once it was in I could 
hardly feel it." I knew it was the kind of response 
that would make him mellow, and that usually would 
result in me getting an easier time.

"Put your fingers up, un pull it open for me."

I did.

"How do you feel about a couple more fucks before bed 
time?"

"Shall I take the pillow out then?"

"Yes chuck it on the floor, that’s a good girl. Come on 
lads"

Mr. Jones mounted first and I once again relaxed and 
started enjoying myself. He fucked me, and then when he 
rolled over exhausted, I climbed on top and fucked him, 
it was good.

I was then told that I had to try and cheer up Bryan, 
they helped him onto the bed, and I did my stuff. All 
the time I was grinning at him, because I knew I was 
now in control. When he was about to cum, I slowed the 
pace right down; I could see by his face he didn’t like 
this. I waited till he’d gone off the boil, and then 
sped up again. I did this several times and Bryan was 
getting more and more frustrated. 

Then Mr. Jones said, "See that Morris she’s getting to 
be a real expert. When our Bryan finally shoots it’ll 
be like a nuclear explosion. This’ll be the best fuck 
he’s ever had."

There am I thinking I was going to annoy Bryan, when 
according Mr. Jones I was only making things better for 
him.

I once again brought my pace quicker, and just as I was 
going to slow down, Mr. Jones placed his hands on my 
waist, and pushed me hard down onto the eager prick. 
Boy did he cum, and so did I. My body started going 
wild; I wasn’t in control, pumping up and down like a 
mad thing. The fluid wasn’t trickling out of my cunt, 
it was flowing like a river. 

When I’d calmed down, I carefully lifted myself off, 
but I was embarrassed to see the mess I’d made all over 
Bryan and the bed. I was even more embarrassed that 
fluid was still running from my cunt.

Mr. Jones smiled and said, "That was good, you looked 
as though you enjoyed yourself."

I smiled back, and nodded.

"Well be a good girl, and lick him clean."

I thought I’d be sick, but I bent down and cautiously 
started licking. I felt the mattress on the bed sink 
and I realised Morris was climbing up behind me. I felt 
his knob end pushing at the opening of my cunt, up it 
slid. The more he pushed the more I licked, I was now 
on a roll again, and I couldn’t help myself, and I knew 
no shame. I was loving the fuck, but I was also licking 
deep into Bryan’s arse, sucking his balls, and finally 
bringing his prick back to erection, I forced it deep 
into my throat. I was developing a technique of taking 
a deep breath, and then forcing myself hard down. I 
could actually feel the helmet on his knob deep inside 
my neck. As Morris shot his load, he was pushing harder 
onto Bryan who shot straight into my belly from the 
opposite direction. 

They both decided to leave there pricks in for a soak, 
and I ended up passing out, whether from exhaustion or 
lack of breath, I don’t know.

I came round laid on the bed in the usual spread open 
position with an audience of smiling faces, this was a 
position that I would come to think of as normal.

I got cleaned, we all chatted happily together, mostly 
about what a good fuck I’d been, and I seemed to be 
totally shameless. It was almost as though we were 
discussing an evening’s bridge.

Morris walked me home and he joined me in my bed, I was 
exhausted, and was soon asleep. But once again as I 
slept my dream turned out to be reality and I awoke to 
find myself on top of Morris fucking him for all I was 
worth. We fucked several times during the night and 
slept the rest.

I woke up smiling with a glow that I’ve never known 
before.

Morris and I had breakfast and I spent the day in my 
garden with Morris in view on the hill most of the 
time.

When I heard the familiar sound of Mr. Jones coming up 
the lane on his tractor, I walked to the gate. As he 
approached with a big beaming smile, I could feel 
myself blushing. 

"And how’s my little girl today?"

"Very well thank you. Would you like me to make you a 
nice cup of tea?" I asked.

"Thanks that would just go down a treat right now."

I opened the gate, turned and started walking to the 
house. I felt an arm coming around my waist; it brought 
me to a halt. I waited, and then I felt the other hand 
sliding up in between my legs. I parted my legs, and 
slightly squatted to give him access. His fingers 
probed around, moving my gusset to one side and his 
middle fingers was going up and down. I stood there in 
broad daylight half way down my garden path squatting 
down with a scruffily dressed old welsh farmer poking 
away at my cunt. I couldn’t understand, somehow they 
had re-programmed me from a church going school 
teacher, that used to get sex once a month in bed with 
the lights out and only ever with my husband, into a 
shameless slut that would fuck any time any where with 
almost any one.

After about five minutes poking, he took his hand out 
and said, "Come on lets go down to the orchard. He led 
my hand and I went with him to the orchard. He led me 
to the fence so that we could see the railway-line down 
the valley. His hand up my skirt, down came my panties, 
I leaned forward onto the fence, up went the back of my 
skirt and he was in and away. He had obviously timed 
this to perfection, as we heard the train whistle 
blowing, and the train full of smiling waving tourists 
made its way passed. 

Mr. Jones obviously found this some sort of turn-on and 
I must admit is was weird, smiling and waving to moms, 
Dads, and children, whilst being fucked in broad 
daylight.

The train always stopped at the little station, about 
fifty yards along the lane. The people were still 
visible, and some were even still looking our way when 
Mr. Jones started his final thrusts. As he pumped his 
spunk deep up inside me he made a point of almost 
lifting me over the fence with each push, I was sure 
that someone on the train must have been able to guess 
what he was doing to me. But as he shot his cum up me 
he kept on waving to the children and the one or two 
adults that were looking our way. 

He pulled out, and without a thank you or anything, 
spun me round, and pulled me down to suck and lick him 
clean. While I was getting busy cleaning Mr. Jones, his 
old dog ‘Blue’ pushed his nose up the back of my skirt, 
and proceeded to clean me. Mr. Jones was holding me so 
I couldn’t have stopped him, but the point was that I 
didn’t even try!

"Right that’ll do now, I’ve work to be done. I can’t 
spend all afternoon keeping you amused. Come on Blue, 
that cunt’ll still be there when we see Margaret next 
time."

What a cheek, he was trying to make out I was the one 
that wanted it, and what did he mean about my cunt 
still being available later, was he bringing his dog 
back tonight to fuck me?

I was still standing there fuming in some sort of 
trance, when I heard the vicar's voice, "Oh. So there 
you are Mrs. King. I heard from Mrs. Jones that you 
were under the weather, so I thought I’d pay you a 
visit."

My panties were laid on the floor by my feet; I quickly 
kicked them into the bottom of the hedge, and started 
walking across the orchard towards the vicar. His dog a 
big black Labrador came bounding across and straight 
past me, making a beeline for the hedge. I was struck 
with horror; I turned and ran to make sure he didn’t 
retrieve my panties. I got to the hedge just as he was 
turning back with his praise in his mouth. In 
desperation I grabbed the panties and tugged violently, 
they ripped, and I had now got them in my hand. I had 
however pulled so hard, that when they ripped I 
unbalanced over backwards. 

I was so obsessed with making sure that the dog didn’t 
get my panties back, I was stuffing them into the waist 
band of my skirt, then I realised too late that he’d 
found a new interest. I rapidly got my hands down onto 
his head, and tried in vain to push it out of reach of 
my cunt. I was struggling to get up, and not succeeding 
with keeping the dog from its target, when the vicar 
took hold of my arm and helped me to my feet. He had 
been shouting at his dog all the time, but the dog was 
taking no notice, and even now as I stood up the dog 
was under my skirt with his nose and tongue firmly in 
my crotch. 

The vicar was apologising and shouting at the dog in 
turn, he was trying to pull the dog by his hind 
quarters, I was pushing down on the dogs head from the 
outside of my skirt. The dog was licking away as if 
neither of us were doing anything. Next second Morris 
appeared, shoved his hands up my skirt, grabbed the dog 
around his collar, and yanked him out throwing him 
bodily across the orchard. The dog yelped, and slunk 
off into the corner, cowering down. Morris just turned 
and went as quick as he’d come. 

The vicar didn’t know what to say to apologise, he 
couldn’t understand what had come over the dog. He 
helped me down onto a wooden bench under the apple 
tree, and he sat by my side with his arm supportively 
around my shoulders. I tried to explain the attack 
away, by saying that it was that time of the month that 
us ladies don’t feel well, and it must be the odour 
that comes with that condition that had upset the dog. 
The vicar looked embarrassed at the line of this 
conversation, and said he would go now in case the dog 
goes silly again.

He got the dogs lead out of his pocket, and called, 
"Bruce." The dog looked up, got up and slowly walked 
towards us. 

"He looks sorry, doesn’t he?" I said.

The vicar had stood up, and I was sitting on the end of 
a wooden bench facing the approaching dog.

"I think he calmed down now," said the vicar holding 
the clip of the lead out in front of him for the dog to 
come and get fastened.

I put my hands out in front of me in a friendly 
gesture; the dog went straight passed the vicar, under 
my arms and up my skirt. The dog was now well and truly 
lapping on my cunt, he was in-between my legs, and push 
as I might, the head didn’t budge. I was just sitting 
there being licked with the local vicar stood there 
pulling fruitlessly at his dog.

Knowing how Morris had pulled the dog off I grabbed my 
skirt, pulled it up out of the way and said to the 
vicar, "Grab his collar."

The vicar grabbed the dog’s collar, and pulled. The dog 
took no notice, he was on a mission. The vicar was 
still pulling, but he was now stood there looking at my 
naked hairy mound, with his dogs tongue making great 
progress below on my cunt. Every time we managed to 
move the dogs head away the vicar got a close up view 
of how my cunt was now starting to react to the 
licking. I was laid there for at least two or three 
minutes, when the dog finally withdrew his head. 

But this was only so he could mount me. He lunged 
forward pushing me back flat on the bench, and as he 
did my head went crack, I felt his stabbing prick find 
its mark. There was nothing that the vicar or I could 
do. I struggled, but Bruce was big and powerful, and 
wanted me. After about a minute, he shot his load, and 
as with the little sheep dog last night, his prick was 
knotted firmly inside me. The dog stood there facing 
away from me panting with a big smile on his face, his 
dick anchored in solid. 

After a short while I thought I might as well sit up, I 
was still trying to push the dog off when the vicar 
came over to help me. It must have looked bizarre, me 
with a dog up my cunt and a vicar by my side. 

I broke the silence, "Well I guess he'll calm down 
now."

"I… I don’t know what to say Mrs. King. He’s never done 
anything like this before."

That’s alright, it wasn’t your fault, I suppose it must 
have just got the better of him."

"I can’t believe your being so understanding. Only a 
true Christian could be that forgiving, and turn the 
other cheek. Are you hurt in any way, or is there 
anything I can do for you."

"No not really, apart from the bang I got on the head 
when he knocked me down. I think we’ll just have to 
wait till his swelling goes down."

"Does it hurt you?"

"No. Not really hurt, it’s just swollen inside me."

"Would it help if I tried to pull it out?"

"I don’t know. Can you get your hands in?" I said 
pulling my skirt out of the way again, and opening my 
legs fully. With all my ballet exercises, when I say 
open fully, I mean open.

"My. Mrs. King. I've never seen anyone open their legs 
like that before." He said as he placed one hand around 
his dog’s dick, and the other under my cunt, and tried 
to pull them apart. 

Just then Bryan arrived, and asked the vicar what had 
happened, the vicar explained, said he was trying to 
get the dog’s dick out. Bryan said that the quickest 
way was to turn the dog back on me and get him going. 

"When he’s cum three of four times, the knot will 
disappear, and he’ll slip out no problem. If you don’t 
you could be here in four hours time waiting."

The vicar looked at me, "I don’t know. Mrs. King what 
do you think?"

"If it the only way, I suppose you’d better call him 
back up."

I held my skirt out of the way, and the vicar was 
calling his dog. The dog wasn’t interested. I joined 
in, "Come on Bruce, come on, here boy." I was calling 
and patting my belly to encourage the dog back on 
board. 

Morris was now present, so my audience was growing. We 
quickly explained what we were doing, and he said it 
would be easier if I slid off the bench onto my hands 
an knees. This I did, then Bryan told the vicar to 
stand by my head, calling his dog and patting me on the 
back, saying come fuck the nice lady. The vicar said he 
couldn’t say words like that, but I said, "Go on please 
I just want to get this nightmare over with."

"Come Bruce be a good boy and fuck nice Mrs. King." He 
repeated it several time till at last the dog re-
mounted, and we were away, each time it took slightly 
longer for the dog to cum, but I counted at least seven 
loads shooting up. He eventually slipped out fully 
satisfied, and the vicar helped me to my feet, the dog 
cum was running down my legs. Mr. Jones had arrived 
during the performance, but now it was over he and his 
boys turned and left without a word. 

I could see the vicar had a stonking hard-on, which he 
tried not to show. He asked if I was alright, and 
feeling in a devilish sort of mood, I said, "I think 
I’ll need help getting back to the house." After all I 
didn’t want the vicar to think I could take a fucking 
like that in my stride, but in truth, by now that was 
really just an aperitif. He stood along side me and put 
one arm round my waist very loosely, and with his other 
hand in front he steadied my hand. This was no good; I 
wanted him to make bodily contact. I stumbled, 
pretending that my legs were week and couldn’t take my 
weight. He tightened the grip on the arm he had around 
my waist, but I slid myself around in front of him 
pretending to faint. 

He was now supporting my weight with both arms, his 
hands cupped under my belly; I could now feel that hard 
prick against the crack of my arse. I pretended to come 
round and lifted myself up on tip toes, till I could 
feel the top of his prick slip under my bottom. He 
immediately relaxed his grip and un-cupped his hands, 
to let me move away. I fainted again; he had to grip me 
again. But because I had caught him by surprise, he had 
rushed to stop me falling. He’d grabbed at the first 
this that he could reach, and that meant that his hands 
were now pushed hard into my crotch. I kept the faint 
going so that he couldn’t relax his grip. 

When I came round this time I didn’t take my weight, I 
just leaned my head back, and said, "Oh I do feel 
faint, I’m so sorry to be such a nuisance."

"Don't be silly my dear. I’m the one who’s sorry. Can I 
put you down somewhere, so that I can lift a bit 
easier?"

"Please just lift me up to your chest, and I’ll try and 
help by taking a bit of my weight."

He gripped my crotch, and pulled hard, I gently eased 
some of my weight so he could lift me. My bottom slid 
up the length of his erection, and when I felt I was 
once again sitting on it, I said, "I think you should 
try walking me back to the house now."

We made awkward slow progress, but his prick was 
getting a real good feel of my arse. By the time we got 
to the door he had a rock hard stonker, and I knew he 
would have a job to resist using it.

"Will you be alright now," he said as he lowered me 
onto a kitchen chair.

"Well would I be imposing too much on you to ask for 
help up to my bedroom?"

"Of course not. If there’s anything I can do dear lady, 
please just ask. But how do you think I should lift 
you, to carry you up the stairs?"

"If I try and stand up, can you carry me over your 
shoulder, like a fireman?"

"We could give it a try."

He helped me to my feet and bent down, pushing his 
shoulder against my belly. I leaned over him, and he 
started to stand upright, he had one hand on my ankle, 
the other on the outside of my skirt, on my bottom. 

"I’m not sure I feel safe," I said.

"Do you want me to put you down again?"

"No. But can you get a better grip with your right 
hand? You’ve only got hold of my skirt."

"Where can I hold you?"

"Take hold of my leg. It’ll be alright, and I’ll feel 
safer."

He put his hand on my leg at about knee level.

"Please don’t think me a baby, but I really would feel 
safer if you held me at the top of my leg."

He didn’t say anything, but his hand went up. He 
stopped about six inches from my crotch.

And he started to walk towards the stairs. 

When at the bottom he said, "Right well here goes then. 
Are you all right?"

"Can you just get another grip before you start?"

"Sorry am I holding too tight?"

"No, but can you reach higher?"

"Well if you’re sure."

"Please, I’ll feel safer if I can feel you’ve got hold 
of me at the top."

He didn’t reply, but his hand slid up, till I felt his 
fingers making contact with my lips. He then gripped 
tight on the top of my leg.

"Oh not so tight, just push your hand against me to 
take my weight."

He relaxed his grip, and I felt him push his hand under 
my crotch.

"Is that what you mean?"

"Yes that’s a lot better, I feel nice and safe now."

He climbed the stairs and carried me to my bedroom, my 
wet cunt sitting in his hand. 

He bent forward and lowered me into a sitting position 
on the bed, and then withdrew his hand.

"Is there anything I can do before I leave you?"

"I don’t like to ask, but Jim isn’t here and I haven’t 
anyone else that can help me get cleaned up."

"Just tell me what I need and what you want me to do?"

I asked him to get a bowl, a jug of warm water, soap, 
sponge, towel and a jar of Vaseline, all from the 
bathroom, and bring them here. When he returned, I 
explained that I was too week to go to the bathroom, or 
to stand whilst being washed, and didn’t want to get my 
bed wet. So I hope he wouldn’t feel too embarrassed, if 
I removed my skirt, and knelt with my legs astride the 
bowl so that he could wash me.

He was embarrassed, he went bright red, but he replied, 
"No I'm sure that’s the most sensible way we can do 
this."

I slid my skirt off and lowered myself onto the floor, 
and spread across the bowl, with my bottom facing him. 
I couldn’t see, but I guess his eyes must have been 
popping out. I put my head down to the floor and my 
bottom was up. 

"Ok you can start washing me now."

He dipped the sponge in the warm water and started 
sponging on the top of my bottom. The water was running 
down everywhere.

"No. please not like that everywhere is getting 
soaked."

"I’m sorry. How should I do it?"

"Put the soap in your hands, and work up a lather, the 
same as if you were going to wash your face. Then work 
it in round my bottom and underneath, round to my 
tummy. You know get me well soaped up."

He started slowly, and each time the lather ran dry, he 
re-wet his hands and soaped up again. His hands were 
rubbing direct on my flesh. He was only just skimming 
the surface with his fingers whilst in the area of my 
cunt and arse, not wanting, or daring to go harder.

So I looked back and said, "I think your missing a bit. 
It still feels slimy in the crevice of my bottom and 
the fold of loose flesh underneath me. Would you mind 
pushing your fingers in a little harder to make sure 
it’s all clean?"

No answer, but first of all the fingers found the crack 
of my arse and started going back and forward. As the 
soapy water made its way down the crack, it lubricated 
my arse hole. Now a week ago this was a tight little 
wrinkle of skin, but in the last three days I had been 
fucked more time than I could count. It wasn’t gaping 
open, but with a little lubrication, it would now 
spring open at the slightest touch. As he soon found 
out, when to his surprise as he pushed his finger down 
the slot, it disappeared into my arse. He said sorry, 
and I guess he was blushing but I didn’t look, and just 
said, "don’t worry, just do my underneath now." I was 
dying to feel his hand on my cunt! I didn’t have long 
to wait, and soon my clit was standing to attention 
making sure it made contact with his fingers. After his 
little accident with my arse he was making sure he 
avoided my cunt. 

So I had to do something, "would you think I was very 
rude if I said that I had an irritation inside me where 
your dog had been pushing his thing."

He almost choked on his words, "No it must have been 
awful for you, what can I do?"

"I don’t know how to ask."

"Please. Just say. It’s entirely my fault anyway."

"Can you push a couple of soapy fingers up and work 
them about a bit to see if it eases the irritation?"

I was now getting a good old fingering, and loving 
every moment.

As soon as I could feel my cunt starting its 
characteristic movements, I said, "Right, that should 
be enough; you can wet the sponge, wring it out and 
clean all the soap off now." He didn’t speak, but just 
did as he was told. He then picked up the towel and 
gently patted me dry.

"Right I think your done now," he said as he stood up.

"Only one more thing, if I can ask. Could you put some 
Vaseline on for me?"

He got back on his knees, put two of his fingers in the 
jar, and said, "Where do you want it rubbing?"

"You know, where your dog was."

He started gently rubbing around the lips.

"Inside a bit please."

He went inside.

"Further."

He went deeper.

"Can you reach deeper? That's really helping."

I could now feel his hand as he was pushing the full 
depth of his fingers in and out.

"Oh that’s real good. Have you got anything that will 
reach deeper?"

His fingers slid out, I didn’t look, but I could sense 
he was re-positioning himself. Then as I expected, up 
it went, but his pace wasn’t as I had expected for man 
of his age. I expected him to be like Mr. Jones or 
Glyn, slow and in control. The vicar was going at it 
like a mad thing, like he’d never had any for months. 
He pulled out before he came, shooting all over me! I 
didn’t even get chance to get going, so when he‘d 
finished, I was still wanting more. I got up and sat on 
the edge of the bed looking down at the vicar as he lay 
on the floor. 

He looked sheepishly up at me and said, "Mrs. King. 
Please. I don’t know what came over me."

"Well looking at this sticky mess I guess I know who 
came over me," I said as I sat there legs wide open 
running my fingers through the lines of spunk on my 
inner thigh.

"I really am sorry. How can I call myself a Christian."

"Well even Christians are human, and I suppose it was 
asking too much to expect any man, even a vicar to keep 
his mind on the task in hand."

"What can I do to say I’m sorry?"

"Well you could start by cleaning me up again."

He got up and went to pick up the bowl.

"Don’t bother with that. I haven’t got the energy to 
get off the bed, and I don’t want you wetting my bed 
clothes."

"Shall I wipe you with a cloth then?" He said.

"No that will make me sore. I think god would expect 
you to do some kind of penance for your sins. Come and 
lick me clean."

He looked stunned.

"Oh I’m sorry! That’s too common for a high ranking man 
like you? I thought you said you wanted to make 
amen’s?" I barked sarcastically.

"Of course I’ll lick you if that’s what you want. I 
didn’t think you’d want me that close after what I’d 
just done."

I lay back, lifted both legs up to my shoulders lifting 
my bottom clear of the bed.

"Come on lets see how sorry you are."

He started licking at the base of my spine and working 
his way around the tops of my legs and up my lower 
belly to my navel. This took quite some time, and by 
now I thought he must be getting worked up again, I 
know I was. He looked up at me as if to ask if that was 
ok.

"I think you’ve missed a bit, or are you just saving 
the best till last?"

He didn’t reply, but started licking around my clit, my 
body reacted instantly. I was pushing down on him with 
each stroke of his tongue.

After a minute or so I could stand it no longer, I 
reached down grabbed hold of his head and pulled it up 
to my mouth saying, "Fuck me. Come on fuck me." As his 
face reached mine I smothered him with kisses, as he 
was pushing it up for his second go. This time his pace 
was slower, and being laid on my back I could use my 
legs to control him better, I was now becoming a bit of 
an expert at this fucking business.

By the time the vicar left he’d fuck me four times, and 
he was loosing his embarrassment. He did however still 
apologise once again before he left.

Mr. Jones paid me a visit everyday that week, and each 
time he had me against the orchard fence whilst the 
train went passed. Morris spent each night with me, 
much to my delight, and Bryan kept his distance. When 
Jim arrived on the following Saturday he was full of 
plans of our new life here in Wales now we had got such 
good friends here! At the first opportunity he thanked 
Mr. Jones for taking care of me so well (if only he’d 
known how well). Mr. Jones said it had been a pleasure, 
and anyway he thought Morris had done more than anyone 
to look after me.

This was just the first week of my new life, and as you 
can imagine there are plenty more stories I can tell 
you, but that for later.

END

Thanks for reading, and please feel free to email me at 
Lord_John_Thomas@hotmail.com 

It is only the feedback from readers that make the 
effort of writing worthwhile, and I will answer all 
mail received (eventually). I would particularly like 
to hear comments from Girls living in England, as they 
might relate to the story backgrounds more readily. To 
ensure I accept your mail, make sure your mail has 
‘Story Feedback’ as a subject, all other mail to this 
account is deleted as spam. If you do want to email me 
with any criticisms, this is also welcome, providing it 
is explained in a constructive manner. 

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 29