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The Vicar's Wife - 2
by Lord John Thomas (lord_john_thomas@hotmail.com)

***

The vicar’s wife realises, her libido, now awoken, is a 
strong force to control. (MMF, reluc)

***

Author Note: 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.

Well I guess if you’re reading this you have probably 
already read part one of my story, and know how I 
suddenly, at the age of twenty-three became aware of 
how wonderful sex can be. If you haven’t read part one, 
then a lot of this story might not make any sense. 
Right, so where had I got to? The ‘rescuers’ had now 
departed from my life, and for my part, I hoped and 
prayed, that I’d never see or hear from any of them 
again. 

Part 2...

I showered, and then dressed, and for the first time, I 
wore jeans to go to work, mainly to avoid anyone seeing 
the marks on my inner leg. Silly now I come to think of 
it, the marks were from about a couple of inches above 
my knee, right up to my crotch, all the way up my inner 
leg. So with the skirts I normally wore for work being 
fully flared, and always at least knee length, there 
wouldn’t have been much chance of anyone seeing the 
marks anyway.

But regardless, dressed in jeans and blouse, I said bye 
to Michael who was just getting up, and set off to 
work. As normal when I arrived, I opened up the farm 
shop, and turned on the bell. On the door jamb of the 
farm shop was a bell press, and there was also a rubber 
tube laid across the entrance to the farm yard. Both of 
these were connected to bells that were located in most 
of the buildings around the farm yard. So I’d know if 
any vehicles arrived; or if people call to the shop on 
foot, they could ring for attention using the push-
button.

As customers only ever started coming in dribs and 
drabs until lunch time, and then again around four in 
the afternoon, the rest of the time I had various other 
tasks to get on with. Egg collecting being normally my 
first, so once the bell was turned on, I picked-up my 
egg collecting basket and went on my rounds.

I searched around all the places I knew they normally 
laid their stray eggs, ending up at the chickens own 
properly made roost. Then with my basket full to 
overflowing, I carefully made my way back to the shop. 
We’d had no customers while I’d been away, which was 
about normal for a Monday, so I then began to sort the 
eggs into their sizes.

I think it was around ten o’clock, when with all the 
eggs sorted; I took a walk into the potato shed. This 
was definitely not my favourite job. The potatoes were 
loaded by tractor into the first floor of this 
building, so from down here, the roof above my head was 
loaded with tons of potatoes. In the corner of this 
shed was a sack filling machine. This was old and like 
most things about this farm, due for replacement.

It was supposed to take the potatoes from above, into 
this big wooden box, and then through a chute, into the 
potato sack. The whole of this big wooden box was 
connected to a mechanical shaking device, which was 
driven by an electric motor. The chute had a closing 
flap that was operated manually with a very big long 
lever.

The theory was simple. First place an empty sack onto 
the chute, and wrap the metal retainer to hold it in 
place. Second, the motor needs to be turned on, so the 
big box vibrates, this not only keeps the potatoes from 
jamming, but helps to make the flap open easier. Next 
pull the lever, letting the potatoes into the sack. 
Then as the sack is filled, push the big lever back, 
stopping the potatoes.

But in practice, once this machine is left overnight, 
or worse still over a weekend, moving that lever is 
nigh on impossible. So there is a wooden beer crate 
stood on end by the side of the machine which you have 
to climb onto. Then leaning as far across the top of 
the machine as possible, and using the lump of wood 
that is always laid on top of the machine. You try to 
reach around behind the upper chute, and thump the 
lever pivot boss (well that’s what the farmer says it’s 
called; I just know it’s that lump of metal sticking 
out the other side of the machine).

So I approach this job knowing the first time I try to 
get that lever moving, I’m going to have a real 
struggle on my hands. I get a paper sack and attach it 
firmly to the chute, and then switch on the motor. The 
whole building starts to drone, and clouds of dust 
begin to float down from the timber boards that make 
the ceiling. I heave with all my weight against the 
lever, but as I expected, it doesn’t budge an inch.

So now for the dreaded ritual, I carefully climb onto 
the wooden crate, holding onto the side of the 
vibrating machine for support. I’ve done this hundreds 
of times before, but never before have I noticed the 
vibration being so intense. But I try to put that out 
of my mind, and I now lift my left leg across, placing 
my foot on the lever. Then I take hold of the lump of 
wood from the top of the machine, and holding it 
stretched out in front of me. I lean forwards onto the 
top of the machine, to attempt to get the pivot pin 
within my reach.

As my tummy presses against the machine, the vibrations 
start the same feelings generated by that device the 
men had inserted inside my pussy two days previous. 
Never before has this machine ever generated anything 
but feelings of sheer frustration and despair at my not 
being able to move the bloody lever. But now, before 
I’ve had chance to even strike out towards the pivot 
pin, my whole body is beginning to tingle. 

I have to stand back, putting my leg back onto the box, 
but even the vibrations getting to me via my arms, 
which I’m using to balance with, are keeping this 
stimulation simmering. I decide it’s just my 
imagination, I must just have sex on the brain, all 
that is needed is a firm application of will-power. Ok, 
here goes!

I swing my leg back across to the lever, and lift 
myself up to my tip toes, and then slide myself as far 
as I can onto the top of the machine. Will-power or no 
will-power, my body lights-up with a glow, which 
emanates from deep in my crotch. My pussy is pulsing, 
my nipples are tingling, the bloody machine is driving 
my body out of control! And now to make things worse, 
my mind starts joining in the stimulation.

I guess you’re wondering what I mean by that. Well like 
I’ve said, this is not the first time I’ve been in this 
position. And I been perched up here bashing this lump 
of wood at the pivot pin for sometimes in excess of 
fifteen minutes. And on several of those occasions, 
either the farmer, one of his sons or one of his hired 
workers has suddenly appeared upon the box behind me. 
They have then lent across me, and tried to demonstrate 
where I should be hitting the machine.

Never in the past had I even given it a thought, that 
their leaning up against me, might be some kind of 
sexual turn-on for them (god! I must have been one 
green girl). And I’d never known or even considered 
that maybe these men might have been stood behind me 
for some time, looking up at my pathetic efforts. 
Whilst they viewed me with legs wide open, and them 
looking up from below.

But now, with the machine instructing my body to 
produce sexual hormones by the barrow load, my mind 
starts to wonder if maybe one of these men might be 
watching me. And maybe, he’ll have his cock in his 
hand, and be wanking it. And god forbid, any second 
now, he might jump up behind me, and... I turn my head, 
and standing there is Ian! How the fucking hell has he 
found me here?

He speaks, "Excuse me, I rang the bell."

Now I realise it isn’t Ian at all, in fact its one of 
the men who lives in the local village, he’s a regular 
customer. I don’t know his surname, but I know him as 
Bob.

"Oh sorry Bob, it’s the noise of this bloody machine."

I’d just sworn out aloud, in front of an almost 
stranger! What was happening to me? I clambered off the 
machine, and followed Bob back into the shop.

"Sorry about that, but that flipping machine has been 
giving me a lot of trouble this morning."

But as I’m walking along, I can feel the wetness in my 
knickers, and I’m hoping that it hasn’t soaked through 
my jeans, meaning it would have been visible to Bob 
while I was on that machine back there.

"That’s alright Shirley love, I won't tell. Even a 
vicar's wife has to be allowed to swear once in a 
while. I guess you’re all on edge after your little 
adventure this weekend?"

God! What the hell does he know about what those men 
did with me?

"Adventure?"

"Yes, its all over the middle page of the news paper, 
looks like your husband put in a direct call to his 
boss for assistance, and you got a full mountain rescue 
crew. You were very lucky they chose the same spot as 
you, those fells can be treacherous in bad weather."

"Oh yes, I see what you mean. But it was only a 
fractured ankle."

"That’s the benefit of having professionals getting you 
down off the hills, if it had just been you or me 
assisting him, by the time we’d got him to the 
transport, his ankle could have been shattered."

"Yes, I suppose you’re right. Anyway, what can I get 
you today?"

I served him with potatoes and half-a-dozen eggs, and 
he went happily on his way. And one good thing about 
talking with him, it had taken my mind completely off 
sex. So much so, my tummy felt quite calm, and all my 
pussy felt was wet and sticky. But not wanting a 
repetition of the machine induced orgasm, I decided I’d 
go in search of whoever was doing milking duties today, 
to ask for assistance.

So my first place to look was the milking parlour, but 
as I’d expected, by now all milking was long since 
finished, and the place was hosed down and silent. I 
called a few times, but nobody answered. Then I looked 
in the first building, this was the stables, a very 
large building made to accommodate at least thirty 
horses. 

But it now only had three mares, and one large 
stallion. Now again, I’d seen these horses hundreds of 
times before and never have they had any sexual effect 
on me. Although if I’m being really honest, the first 
time I ever saw a stallion with an aroused cock, I 
froze to the spot, and stared in disbelief. But that 
was many years ago now, and never have I fantasised 
about having sex with a horse, and in truth, I hadn't 
even realised it was possible or something some women 
did.

But back to the present; as I looked around the door, 
the hind quarters of one of the mares was directly in 
line with where I stood. She was some five or six feet 
away, her tail high in the air, and her big pink pussy 
was pulsing, just like the men had mine doing 
yesterday. This simple natural farm-yard sight suddenly 
re-kindled my throbbing pussy. 

But instead of turning around and walking out, I 
stupidly walked the few paces along towards the 
stallions stall, to see if he had picked-up on the 
signals she was sending. Picked-up on them! Although 
from his stall he had no way of seeing her, her scent 
must have delivered her message. That magnificent cock 
was stretched out so long, it only just missed sweeping 
the cobbled floor as it kept lunging forwards and 
upwards, swinging back and forth with a vapour trail of 
steam following it.

I dashed out of there, as if the horse was about to 
take a hold of me, and stood at the outside of the 
door, trembling. It took a few seconds to pull myself 
together, and then I continue to the next building. But 
by now, my tummy was simmering, and I knew it would 
take very little to get me aroused again. I went from 
building to building, calling out in each one, but I 
got no response from anyone. 

Then when I had searched just about every building, and 
was about to make my way back to the shop, my attention 
was taken by the farm dogs. I know I hadn't mentioned 
that we had dogs on this farm, but that is because, 
after you’ve worked here some time, you don’t even 
notice them.

How many dogs there are on this farm I don’t know, as 
most of the fitter ones, normally either chase the 
tractors as they go off to the fields, or get a ride 
with one or other of the drivers in the cabs. The ones 
left around the yard are usually the older less fit, or 
young inexperienced ones. 

Well this is what had caught my attention, one of last 
years pups, a small mongrel bitch now about eighteen 
months old, was being fucked by and old black Labrador. 
I guessed it was her first time in season, as her 
comparative human age would be around ten or twelve. 
And the Labrador was a good nine years old, which would 
make him fifty plus.

I must have seen the farm dogs mating several times 
before, and I’d normally just turn my head and ignore 
them. But this time, it fascinated me, to watch how 
what was really the equivalent of a little girl, could 
stand her ground, while this Labrador twice her size, 
the equivalent of a big man with an enormous cock, 
pounded away at her. How long I stood there in a 
trance, just watching and getting more worked-up, I’m 
not sure. But the old dog had her at least three times, 
each time his knot preventing him from uncoupling. But 
my attention was suddenly broken by the cacophony of 
bells ringing in the various buildings, and announcing 
the arrival of a car into the yard.

I turned and made my way smartly towards the shop door, 
watching the car pull-up alongside one of the 
buildings, and thinking to myself, ‘don’t recognise the 
car, must be just a stranger passing through the 
village’. Then as the man got out of his car, it maybe 
took a second or two for it to click, but I had seen 
him before, and his return was far from welcome. It 
must have been four months ago, and last time, his car 
was a magnificent Bentley.

But even if the car was different, this was the same 
man who had come into the shop and asked for a tray of 
eggs, and a sack of potatoes. Now I know I can lift the 
sacks of potatoes, and usually do if the customer is a 
lady. But even if I do venture to lift a sack for most 
male customers, they invariably offer to carry it 
themselves.

Now I’m not saying he wasn’t welcome back because he 
didn’t offer to carry his own potatoes, although at the 
time I did think that very un-gentlemanly. But what he 
did was to carry his tray of eggs out to his car, 
leaving me to carry the heavy sack. He placed the eggs 
in his open boot (Trunk), at the very back of the floor 
space. Then as I approached carrying this heavy sack he 
said, "Oh, make sure you get them right up to the 
front, I don’t want them rolling against my eggs."

His car was a big old Bentley, and the rear lip of the 
boot was very high. As I reached the back, I had to 
strain to get the sack over this rim, and then try to 
reach deep into his boot, leaning in with my feet 
almost leaving the ground. Not even thinking about him 
trying anything, I naturally had my legs parted to aid 
balance whilst lifting, and being a warm spring day, my 
skirt, though long, was made of thin material, and 
fully flared. 

All of a sudden I felt his hand ram under my crotch, 
and he gripped me tightly. I struggled, but in that 
position, he lifted, and my legs were left flailing in 
mid-air. I screamed out, but with my head buried deep 
inside his boot, and a deserted farmyard, it was 
pointless. As it was, another car arrived, and he had 
to let go of me.

When I got out of his boot I was so embarrassed, and 
blushing quite red. Stupidly, my first concern was to 
try to compose myself before the customer that had just 
arrived, noticed anything had happened. So with just a 
few words from me in the form of a scolding, the man 
got into his car and drove away. I had said if I ever 
saw him again I’d phone the police, but this all 
happened about a month before my marriage, so that was 
about four months ago now. And up until now, he hadn’t 
returned.

I was stood in the doorway, watching him, as he strode 
towards me, brazen as you like.

"Ah Ha. I knew it was you."

"What do you want? I told you never to come here 
again."

"What on earth do you mean? It’s a shop isn’t it?"

"It might be, but it’s not open to you. You can get 
back in your car and go before I call the police."

"What ever for my dear?"

"Don’t come the innocent with me; you know what you did 
last time you were here."

"Oh that. Surely you can't still be upset over that. I 
was only giving you a bit of a lift, to make sure you 
got the jolly old spuds past the eggs without breaking 
them."

"I don’t care what you say you were doing, if you don’t 
go now, I’m ringing the police."

"Well my dear, you be my guest. But I don’t think 
they’ll be very amused when they get out here, to find 
an innocent old gent like me who only wants to buy a 
few eggs."

With that he just sidestepped past me, and waltzed into 
the shop as cool as you like. I walked over to the 
phone, and picked up the receiver, but it was obvious, 
I wasn’t going to ring 999. And even as I thumbed 
through the phone book, looking for the number for the 
local police station, I began to realise I wouldn’t 
have any idea what to say to them. I put the phone back 
down.

"Ok. Tell me what you want, and then I can get you out 
of here."

"Shirley. That’s a nice name."

"Where on earth, who told you my name?"

"It was in the paper, Shirley Grey. The wife of 
Reverend Michael Grey. I never knew that soft little 
pussy I had a hold of last time was a vicar’s wife’s 
pussy."

"Look stop your foul talk now, and go!"

"But you haven’t served me yet."

"Ok then, what do you want?"

He held his right arm towards me, his palm uppermost, 
in a cupping kind of shape.

"What I’d really like is a nice tender juicy piece of 
meat that would just fit into the palm of this hand."

And as he spoke, he was opening and closing his fingers 
in the same kind of gripping manner he’d taken hold of 
me last time he was here.

"You dirty old sod," and with that I strode up to him, 
and took hold of his wrist, and began to pull him 
towards the door, "come-on, I want you out of here now. 
There’s no way I’m serving you."

I thought using direct action would take him by 
surprise, and even with my slight build, I’d hoped to 
be able to get him to leave. But he just swung me 
around and overbalanced me onto the stack of potato 
sacks. As I went down on my back, he followed, falling 
face down on top of me. One of his hands gathered up 
both of my wrists, whilst his other went into my 
crotch. At this point, the jeans were my saviour, 
meaning his groping fingers were not able to make 
contact with my flesh.

So whilst he groped, and was now struggling to unleash 
the belt in my jeans, I screamed and kicked with all my 
might. It was obvious in seconds, that shouting 
wouldn’t bring help, so I tried talking to him. 

"Look you bastard. I might not have phoned the police 
last time, but if your hand goes inside my jeans, I’m 
phoning them for sure."

This distracted his concentration off the job he had in 
hand only slightly, undoing my belt that was, but 
didn’t stop him.

"Are you telling me it’s not worth a little feel, to 
stop your husband seeing the video you made this 
weekend?"

I froze, my kicking stopped, and he just looked me in 
the face.

"Ah! So I’ve got your attention."

"What video?"

"A video made by some mountain rescue men."

"Look pack-up undoing my belt; tell me what you know 
about a video."

He stopped undoing my belt, and knelt up a bit to talk 
to me.

"Ian Parker is an old mate of mine. He’s been doing 
this mountain rescue scam for a good five years now."

"You’ve seen it?"

"No not yet. But he’s fucked everyone he’s helped down 
so far, and vicar’s wife or not, I’m betting you rode 
his cock like an obedient little whore."

"Even if that was true, why should I let you touch me?"

"Do you want your hubby to know his wife is a slut?"

"Shows how much you know. My husband knows what they 
did to me."

That was a stupid thing to tell him.

"So, they got the reverend in on the action, god that’s 
even better. So you want the whole parish to wake-up 
tomorrow morning, to find photo’s of you having a gang-
bang. I’m sure the bishop will recommend your Michael 
for a promotion, sharing his wife with all cumers. Very 
Christian attitude. Anyway, do I need to struggle with 
this belt, or are you going to undo it for me?"

That bloody video was going to haunt me for the rest of 
my life, how many more people knew of its existence? I 
couldn’t see that I had any way out of this, but I 
tried one last bluff.

"Your so called friends did attempt to abuse me. But my 
husband thwarted them."

"Don’t give me that crap. If they’d struck-out, they’d 
have been down the clubhouse on Saturday night drowning 
their sorrows. As it was, they all sat there in that 
picture with you that the news paper printed, with 
their thumbs held up high. That wasn’t a meaningless 
gesture; it was a sign by each man to say 'this one has 
had my cock up her'."

So bluff wasn’t going to work, force was useless, so I 
thought negotiation was my best option.

"Look, even if I was going to let you do anything, it’s 
far too risky in here."

"I’m prepared to take the risk. Now stop gabbing, and 
get your belt undone."

So much for trying to negotiate, he had me cornered, 
and knew it. He’d loosed my wrists, and I began to 
unbuckle my belt. Then I pulled the press-stud open. 
I’d just taken hold of the zipper when, ‘saved by the 
bell’. It rang aloud, making us both jump.

"Shit. Don’t think this means you’ll get off scot-free. 
I’ll wait around until they go."

I got to my feet, straightened myself up, and was ready 
as Mrs Kelly walked in the door.

"Ah Shirley my dear, how’s Michael. I read all about it 
in the paper this morning. Oh sorry sir, I didn’t know 
she was already serving someone."

"Oh never mind me, I’ll be a while yet, I’m just 
looking. You carry on."

"Oh in that case, I’ll have..."

She went on to go through what she wanted, all the time 
making general chit-chat mainly about what she’d read 
in the paper, and then I helped her out to her car with 
all the stuff she’d bought. Just as she was driving out 
of the yard, I saw Peter, one of the farmer’s sons, 
going into the stable. I called, but he was out of 
earshot. As I looked back to the shop the old bastard 
was standing in the doorway looking at me, and 
beckoning me towards him.

I turned, and ran, as fast as my legs would carry me, I 
sensed he was giving pursuit, but I didn’t try to look. 
As I crashed into the stable door, and it burst open, 
the old man, took hold of my wrist and pulled me back. 
All I’d needed was a couple more seconds to get through 
the door.

"Got ya! Thought you could out run me? You wait..."

"You alright Shirl? Is this man bothering you?"

The old sod had dropped my wrist, like it was on fire, 
and he now stood a couple of paces back. This was going 
to be a fine balancing act, if I got this man a beating 
(which is what he deserved, and I would like to have 
seen), he’d no doubt punish me with a disclosure of the 
contents of that video. But at very least, I wanted to 
prevent him from doing anything to me.

"Its ok Peter, he was just going."

Peter reached across, and as his hand took hold of the 
shoulder of the man's coat, he dragged the man towards 
him, stopping with the man's face inches from his own. 
The man looked like he’d messed himself; the look on 
his face was justice in full measure.

"I don’t know what you’re up to, but if Shirley doesn’t 
want me to feed you to the pigs, then think yourself 
lucky. But if I even see that car of yours so much as 
drive past our farm, you’d better start praying. Now 
get gone before I change my mind."

If I thought I ran down the farm yard quickly to get to 
Peter, then the speed this man ran back made my pace 
look like walking. He forgot anything about manly 
pride, he ran like a scolded cat, without looking back 
or making any comments. It was such a satisfying sight, 
but I hoped I wouldn't live to regret it. Then as I 
turned back to Peter, I saw him in a very different 
light than I’d ever done before. He stood there like a 
Greek Adonis, stripped to the waist (this was normal in 
the hot weather), chest muscles rippling.

"Shirley? Are you alright?"

"What? Oh yes. Sorry, I was miles away. Oh Peter thank 
you for what you did."

"Did he touch you? You should have let me sort him 
out."

"No he didn’t touch me; he was just getting a bit 
pushy. I was maybe making mountains out of mole hills."

"If he ever comes near here again you just tell us, it 
don’t need to be me, dad or our Jimmy, or the other 
two. We’ll rip his balls off. Oh sorry, I didn’t mean 
to be rude."

"That’s ok, I know what you mean. But thanks anyway."

"Ok I’ll let you get back to the shop."

"Are you busy?"

"Always busy, but if you want me, I’ll make time for 
you."

"It’s that machine again."

"God Shirley. I sometime think you only come and ask 
for help, so you can get me in that dark shed with 
you."

I obviously blushed.

"Don’t say that," I said, but he could tell it was only 
a half-hearted reprimand.

He began to walk me slowly back up the yard; I was on 
his right-hand side, and he’d placed his arm loosely 
around my back, with his big hand resting on my right 
hip.

"Well I swear every time I get to it. One whack, and 
its working."

As we walked, his hand was slipping lower.

"But you can hit it harder than me."

I reached behind me, took hold of his hand, and eased 
it back up onto my hip.

"It don’t take any forcing, so long as you hit it 
properly. I guess I’ll have to try to show you again."

His hand had now slipped again, and was cupping the 
right cheek of my bottom.

"I’d rather you just whacked it for me," and as I took 
hold of his hand and lifted it once more, "And you can 
keep that hand under control, you’re almost as bad as 
the old sod you just scared away."

"Aw, don’t say that, I was only larking about because 
I’ve never seen you wearing jeans before."

With that he pulled away from me, and gave me one of 
those disappointed school boy looks.

"Oh come-on you big softy, you know I’m not angry with 
you. I can take a joke, but you know I’m a married 
woman, and if anyone had seen you."

"So I’m forgiven?"

"Of course you are."

With that he swung his arm back around me, and as he 
said, "Come-on then lets get that machine of yours 
sorted."

He planted his hand firmly around the right cheek of my 
bottom again.

"Peter!"

"Don’t get excited, no one is going to see me in here."

And, of course, we were now inside the shop building, 
so what he said was correct.

"That’s not the point."

With a lot of meaningless chat back and forth, he 
walked me the length of the shop, and into the potato 
shed, with his hand going from one cheek to the other. 
And once or twice, a crafty stroke in between the two!

Well we were now stood by the dreaded machine, and 
although I’d been fighting him off, and mildly scolding 
him for his over amorous attention, this attention had 
my pussy throbbing wildly in my knickers. As he turned 
on the motor, the dust once again began to descend in 
clouds through the rays of sunlight that were managing 
to penetrate the black and filthy windows. The building 
was droning with the vibration. Talking wasn’t 
possible, it was shouting and hand signals from now on.

Well the first hand signal was him ushering me to climb 
up onto the box. I tried shouting back, "But I thought 
you were going to do it to save time."

"What?"

"I thought you were going to do it to save time."

"What?"

"I thought you were going..."

I gave up; he was obviously playing silly buggers, and 
pretending not to hear me. So, as I placed one foot up 
onto the box, and took hold of the side of the machine, 
the vibrations going through my arms started taking 
effect. I only paused for a second, to take stock of my 
feelings, when I felt his hand under my crotch, 
assisting me to lift my bottom hence right leg up onto 
the box.

Before I had chance to turn around and give him any 
kind of reprimand, he was up there on the box with me, 
his massive torso towering above me. He lent across, 
and lifted my left ankle, and placed it onto the big 
lever, then as he brought his hand back, he gave me the 
thumbs-up sign, as if to say are you ok like that. I 
nodded, to indicate I was, and he lent across the 
machine, above me, but his chest was pushing me hard in 
contact with the machine, and leaning me forwards.

He started pointing, and as he placed the big lump of 
wood in my hand, it was obvious he was trying to show 
me where to hit with it. As I’d said, I’d been shown 
hundreds of times; I just couldn’t make it move. But 
the wood now slipped from my grip, dropping onto the 
top of the machine. He picked it up again, but offer it 
to me as much as he might; my arms were like limp wet 
rags dangling from my shoulders. My pussy was and 
inferno of blazing desire and muscular action.

As it pulsed violently, I’m sure it had drawn every 
drop of strength from all other parts of my body. It 
was only Peter pushing hard up against my bottom, that 
prevented me slipping into a heap on the floor. Peter 
was now beginning to realise something was wrong, and 
that I couldn’t do anything with his lump of wood. But 
the lump in his trousers, that I could feel pushing 
hard into the crack of my bottom, now that was 
something I could use right now.

But he, of course, wasn’t aware he had a wanton slut in 
his power. He still was looking on this as a very 
naughty game he was playing with the vicar’s wife, and 
probably wondering if he was going to get away with how 
far he’d gone already. My body was being attacked from 
all angles, the machines vibration, Peter’s manly 
bodily contact, and my own desire. But the one that 
brought my orgasm to a climax was my vivid imagination.

I could feel him ripping the crotch of my jeans, and 
then pushing his mighty cock deep up inside me. Then as 
he rammed hard, lifting me right up off the box, I felt 
his warm spunk inside me. This was the signal my body 
needed; my pussy started its contractions, and spasmic 
squirting. At this point I drifted off from reality, 
into a world of ecstasy.

I came to my senses some minutes later, and I was laid 
on my back, legs parted. Peter was sat alongside me, 
and as soon as he saw I'd come to my senses, he said, 
"Oh thank god! That frightened me. I thought you were 
having some kind of fit. Are you ok?"

I immediately began to flail my fists at Peter, raining 
down a torrent of blows against his face and upper 
body.

"You bastard! How could you. I trusted you, and thought 
you were my friend."

He just sat there looking gob-smacked, and not 
attempting to defend himself, either verbally, or 
physically from the blows I was inflicting.

The bell rang, and the expression on Peter’s face, 
looked like he was now the underdog in a fight, who was 
being ‘saved by the bell’. He sprang to his feet, and 
without a word, he was gone, closing the door behind 
him. I looked down to my crotch, and stared in 
disbelief. I had to check with my hands. But it was 
only now, I realised, my jeans were intact. The crotch 
hadn’t been ripped. They were soaking wet, for at least 
six inches down the inside of each leg, but I hadn’t 
been penetrated.

So now I began to feel really guilty, I’d imagined him 
fucking me, and orgasmed almost in his arms. I guess 
he’d had to stop me from falling, and lifted me down. 
But neither my blouse nor jeans showed any signs that 
anyone had attempted to make any kind of entry. 

I’d let loose with a tirade of abuse and even 
physically assaulted him. But he was guilty of nothing 
more than trying to show me how to get the machine 
working, even if he was using slightly dubious methods. 
But these methods were the ones he and all of the other 
men on the farm had used before, and I’d never even 
thought them wrong, let alone worried about them.

And worse than any of this was my performance, humping 
the machine, and collapsing into his arms. And then I 
can only assume writhing around with legs open whilst I 
moaned in ecstasy. Now he was out there serving the 
customers I was paid to serve, after I’d beaten him 
with all my might, for no reason at all. I dreaded him 
coming back, and I sat there, legs now closed, watching 
the door.

It opened, and he just pushed his head around it.

"Can I come in?"

"Oh Peter, what can I say? Come here. I’m so sorry."

By the time he’d taken two steps into the shed, I had 
dashed across to intercept him. I reached my hands up 
high, placing them on the back of his neck, and 
attempting to pull him down to my face. He at first 
wondered what was going on, but realised it wasn’t 
another abusive outburst, and let his face meet mine. I 
smothered his face with kisses.

"Enough. Shirley enough. What’s happening to you?"

"Oh peter I’m so sorry. I can’t explain. I’ve been so 
wicked. Please promise you won't tell anyone."

"Enough Shirley, come and sit down. Tell me what the 
hell is going on."

"Oh god Peter. I feel so ashamed."

"You mean your cuming like that?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry. You must think I’m disgusting."

"Can I tell you what I really think?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just that, do you really want to know what I think 
about you doing that?"

"I’m not sure I do. But, if you’re already thinking 
whatever it is, I guess I’d be better off knowing what 
it is."

"Well, and I don’t mean to be rude to your old man, 
sorry, I mean the vicar. But if a girl is that highly 
strung, it’s a sign she isn’t getting enough. It don’t 
matter if you’re talking women, bitches, mares, or any 
other animal. It’s either not regular enough, or the 
equipment he’s using ain’t big enough to do the job."

I was stunned, and at a loss for words, I just sat 
there looking into his eyes. Peter broke the silence.

"Well, am I right?"

"I I it’s not that simple."

"Shirley love, I’ve worked this farm all my life. I 
know you’ve got an education, but some things in life 
don’t need a degree to workout. I know it don’t sound 
romantic, and you ladies don’t like being compared to 
dogs. But a bitch on heat is a bitch on heat, and we 
both know, that orgasm you just had ain’t gonna stop 
your craving. So which is it, the vicar isn’t servicing 
you regular enough, or he ain’t got the right tool for 
the job?"

"I really don’t think we should be talking like this. 
Please, I’m so sorry I went berserk at you earlier, 
that was very wrong of me. And I’m sorry I embarrassed 
you and humiliated myself. But my private life with my 
husband is just that, private. I’m going to have to go 
home to get changed, I’ll understand if you tell me you 
don’t want me to come back."

"It’s up to you, if you want to take the rest of the 
day off, then you stop at home and rest."

"No, I didn’t mean take the rest of the day off, I 
meant if you felt you didn’t want me to work here any 
more."

"What? You mean you want to leave us?"

"Well no, I behaved unforgivably. I thought the other 
way around; you might want to sack me."

"Don’t talk like a pudding, sack you never. Given half 
a chance, I'd give you the fucking you need, but less 
said about that the better."

"Please Peter; you frighten me when you talk like 
that."

"Ok girl don't fret, I'll not touch you unless you ask 
me to. And, we’d not sack you just because your husband 
isn’t doing his job properly. You get off home, and if 
you feel ok, come straight back, otherwise, we’ll see 
you in the morning."

I dashed towards him, and gave him a big kiss on his 
forehead.

"Thank-you. I really do owe you a lot."

I was soon in my car on my way home, all the way 
thinking about his simple analysis of my condition. 
Could he be right? It couldn't be the need for a 
regular fucking; I'd had more this weekend than most 
women get in a lifetime. That only left the size of 
Michael's cock! Well I was now at home, and I had a 
quick shower. Then I did something totally out of 
character, I took a big cardboard box from the bottom 
of my wardrobe. I started spreading the packets, boxes 
and loose garments all around our bed; so that I could 
see them all, and choose which one I wanted to wear.

What are these garments, where did I get them, and why 
are they in my wardrobe? My brother is two years older 
than me, and for some reason, our family piety, skipped 
him totally. He was going around with girls whilst he 
was still at school, and it wouldn't surprise me if he 
hadn’t lost his virginity before he’d left. 

Well from my sixteenth birthday, the first day of legal 
sex in the UK, and on every subsequent birthday, he 
bought me sexy underwear. It had gone on right through 
my uni years, and continued to this day. So much so, 
even my parents used to think of it as a harmless 
family joke.

But I only ever wore knickers and bras that were 
functional and covered up properly. That didn’t mean 
they couldn’t be pretty, but never skimpy or frivolous. 
So I had this big box full of unopened lingerie of all 
kinds and colours. Now for some reason I couldn’t 
explain, either to myself, or to anyone else if they’d 
asked, I was sorting through them. I selected a very 
pretty white lace bra and panties set.

I put them on, and stood in front of the full length 
wardrobe mirror, turning from side to side. My public 
hair was untouched, and grew quite wild, so it was 
visible on either side of the lace material. The cut of 
the panties meant my legs looked longer than I’d ever 
seen them.

"Yes. That’ll do."

There was nobody else in the room, but I still said the 
words out aloud, maybe just to convince myself I was 
actually doing this.

I put on one of my normal flared skirts, and cotton 
blouse, and then I was ready. Oh hang on, I looked 
around, found a second bra and panties set, just as 
skimpy, another skirt and also a blouse, and put them 
all into a bag as spares. Well you never know. I then 
put all the underwear back into the box, and the box 
back into the wardrobe.

So looking no different to normal, but definitely 
feeling like a tart at the very least, I set off in my 
car, with a spare set of clothing, just in case. I 
arrived back at the farm at about one o’clock, normally 
our busiest time. But in all my years working there, 
I’d never seen the place so crowded. I couldn’t even 
get my car into the yard; I had to park with some of 
the other customers cars out in the lane.

As I walked into the shop Peter called, "I'm glad to 
see you."

***

The next two hours were mayhem, even people who didn’t 
know me, but who just knew that I worked at this farm 
had come along to buy food, but mainly to get the full 
story first hand. It was like being a kind of minor 
celebrity. When the rush eventually dwindled, Peter 
said, "Dad’ll be pleased. By my reckoning; we’ve about 
doubled our takings today."

"Don’t suppose you can push the old man over the edge 
again next weekend?"

"Peter!" I scolded, as I pushed him away with my open 
palm on his shoulder, "That’s wicked."

Even though, I have to admit I had a slight smile on my 
face at the same time.

"Whelll. You can't blame me. Trades picked-up and I’ve 
never seen you looking so... Well you know, vivacious 
and beaming. It’s like one of those tricks they play 
when the twin sister turns up for work."

"Am I really different?"

"Are you kidding me? Today is the first time I’ve ever 
seen you in jeans. Then there was that other thing. And 
now, them panties."

"Panties, what do you mean?"

"You’ve never worn skimpy knickers like them before."

"How on earth do you know what my knickers look like?"

"You really don’t know?"

"No. I’m not wearing a short skirt, and I haven’t 
climbed any ladders."

"But the material of your skirt is so thin, and when 
you bend down it clings to you, showing the outline of 
your knickers. And then when you pass the open doorway 
and you’re silhouetted against the sun, it is the most 
glorious site."

"And just because the underwear I’ve got on is 
different to the style I normally wear, you think that 
means I’ve changed in some way?"

"No. Not just the underwear."

"Well what else?"

"I don’t want you to think I’m being rude."

"Go on say it."

"You’re on heat."

I coloured up instantly, "Why do you say that?"

"Because it’s true."

"That’s not really a nice thing to say."

"I said you’d think I was being rude, but I’m not. You 
are on heat, even if you are the vicar's wife."

"What makes you think that about me?"

"I smelt it first thing this morning, down by the 
stables. At first I thought I’d caught a whiff of the 
mare, she’s begging for it. But then I noticed it was a 
different scent. Its no wonder that old man tried to 
feel you up this morning, I bet you were driving him 
wild."

I felt so humiliated, he could smell me! And to make me 
feel worse, every word he said was true.

"I don’t know what to say, I had a shower before I came 
back to work."

"Do you really think if I chucked a bucket of water at 
the mares arse, the old stallion would loose interest?"

I didn’t answer.

"No, of course he wouldn’t. She wants it, and until 
she’s had it, her fanny will be sending invitations to 
anyone who’s interested. Now you may be fussier than 
her, but until you let someone ease that aching for 
you, you’ll be sending signals to every man with a pair 
of working bollocks."

"What can I do?"

Suddenly the bloody bell started ringing.

"You can serve them for a start. I think you've done 
more than enough to screw my day up."

And with that he stormed off out of the shop. I served 
the lady that had just arrived, and two more before I 
was once again alone in the shop, and unoccupied. At 
this point, I knew my next task should be back to the 
potatoes, but I felt I couldn’t pluck up the courage to 
face Peter. So I went into the potato shed by myself.

I looked all around and found a long wooden pole, and 
then after turning the motor on, I got as far over to 
the right of the machine as possible, and began poking 
and prodding the pivot pin. But being as there was 
nobody pushing the lever at the same time, it had no 
effect. I had to make up my mind what to do next. 
Option one, was climb onto the machine and get aroused, 
and probably still not succeed in getting it working. 
Two, I could find Peter, and maybe go through a repeat 
of my earlier humiliation. Or three, which would still 
require finding Peter, but then try to persuade him to 
start the machine for me.

The last of these three options was my preferred 
choice, so off I went looking for him. As the last 
place I’d seen him was the stables, that is where I 
headed first. As I approached the building; I could 
hear animal noises coming from within. There were 
snorting sounds, hooves clacking on the stone floor, 
and lots of very hard panting and kind of wet 
squelching. I kind of knew before I got up to the door, 
what I was about to see when I got inside.

As I opened the door, my premonition had been correct. 
I stood there in the open doorway, watching the big 
stallion ramming that two foot long monster cock up 
inside the mare. She was tethered to a post, and had no 
way of avoiding his onslaught, not that I think she 
would have done, even if let loose.

"Come in if you’re coming, and get the bloody door 
shut."

And as Peter said this, he pulled me by my wrist, and 
with his other hand he pulled the door shut behind me.

"Come back here out of his reach, he’s too busy seeing 
to her to worry about who he tramples under him."

As he was saying this to me, he pulled me back up 
against himself, as he stood to the side of the mating 
animals, with his back against the wall. He held me 
tightly to him with his hand on my tummy, and I 
immediately felt his cock hardening, as it lay in the 
crevice of my bum. This hand was big, and the fingers 
long, the ends of them forming a semi-circle that 
encircled my bushy mound. I was sure he must be able to 
detect the turmoil that was going on in my tummy, as my 
arousal once again began to build.

I watched in amazement, as the stallion pumped his cum 
deep into her, and then his enormous cock just flopped 
out, followed by a gallon of cum that gushed from her 
pussy.

"Good lad. Good lad. That'll keep her happy for a 
while."

As he spoke, he pulled me back to the wall, and he 
sidestepped past me, and took hold of the stallion’s 
reigns. He led him back to his stall, and then did the 
same with the mare.

As he approached where I was still stood against the 
wall, he put both his hands above me on the wall, and 
pushed his hips forwards, bringing his bulging trousers 
into contact with my lower tummy.

"Well?"

"Please Peter."

"Please what? Please give me the same."

"No, please. I’m married."

"But you want it."

"Don’t do this to me, I’m begging you."

He launched himself off the wall, turned away from me, 
picked up a bucket from the floor, and flung it at the 
end wall of the stable.

It hit the wall and ricocheted around the floor making 
a deafening clatter.

"Peter; please don’t be angry."

"Angry? I’m past angry. You fucking stand there, your 
pussy begging to be fucked. You’ve got my cock rock 
hard, and my balls about to burst. If you didn’t want 
fucking, why the fucking hell after what we talked 
about earlier, did you come down here where you knew 
I’d be?"

"I I Came to ask you to help me."

"But you know I told you you’re driving me crazy, for 
gods sake, I’m only human. And after telling me this 
morning how much you owed me, you come down here, rub 
your rump onto my cock, and then say, ‘OH please don’t, 
I’m married’. Well married or not, getting me so worked 
up and then just walking away. Surely that can’t be 
Christian behaviour?"

I felt so guilty, I knew he was at least partly right, 
I was to blame for getting him so worked up, but even 
though I felt guilty, I couldn’t voluntarily let him 
fuck me.

"I’m sorry but I’m..."

He didn’t let me finish.

"Married. Yes I fucking know that. But ten minutes in 
the back of the empty stall is all I want. I’ll start 
your fucking machine and even bag the bloody spuds for 
you, just give me ten minutes."

"If I come into the stall, and relieve you, would that 
be good enough?"

"Relieve me? What the fuck does that mean? A blow job?"

"Well I was thinking of just using my hands."

"But if I say a blow job is what is needed. Will you do 
it?"

"I guess so. But you have to promise this is the one 
and only time you ever ask me. And you won't breathe a 
word to anyone, not your brother, dad or anyone."

"I promise I won't breathe a word, but I can't promise 
not to get turned on by you again. That's up to you. 
You've got to get yourself sorted out, and stop begging 
for it, then I’ll not bother you."

"Do we have to do it in here?"

"Why? Where do you want to do it?"

"I don’t know. It just seams so; I don’t’ know, kinda' 
smelly, and unromantic."

"What you want romance now?"

"Please Peter, don’t be coarse. This really is a big 
thing for me. If I do this for you, I'll be going 
against everything I've ever believed in. And that 
includes breaking my marriage vows."

"Ok Shirley. If it's so important to you, you tell me 
where you want us to go. My bed room, or in that potato 
shed with you up against the machine?"

"No forget it. It doesn’t matter, I just thought..."

"What about if I take you up into the roof of the hay 
barn? We won't get disturbed up there. And from up 
there, you’ll get a view and a lovely cool breeze?"

"Ok, I suppose that's as good as anywhere."

Next second the bloody bell rang again.

"Shit!"

"Now Shirley, I’ve never heard you swear like you’re 
doing today. Just go and serve them, and I’ll be 
waiting for you in the barn."

I walked up the yard, my pussy throbbing wildly, and 
these panties not really wide or thick enough to soak-
up the juices it was producing. It was a lady customer, 
and as I’d expected she didn’t want to buy much, it was 
more just a gossip she wanted. I cut her as short as I 
dare without being rude, and then I walked briskly 
through the yard, and across to the barn.

By the time I got there, I was almost breaking into a 
trot, and as I walked in through the big open doors, 
Peter appeared from out of the shadows, and took me up 
into his arms. He carried me with one arm around my 
back, and his other under my knees. He clambered from 
hay bale to bale, and in seconds he was walking along 
the flat top of the stack, right up high in the roof.

As he lowered me to my feet and stood behind me, he 
asked, "Well, was I right about the view?"

"Oh Peter, it's wonderful up here."

Then as I turned around, he was stood there naked, his 
cock in his hand, big and animalistic. He lowered 
himself back into a sitting position, taking hold of my 
hand, and pulling me down with him. Then he lay flat on 
his back, and with me knelt at his side, he put one of 
his big hands on the back of my neck, and directed my 
head down to his cock.

I didn’t fight it; I just let him kind of lead me. As 
his big bell end approached my lips, I opened my mouth. 
God was this cock big. I slid my mouth over it, gliding 
up and down his length, and within seconds he was 
probing my throat. My body was again in flames, and as 
I felt his hands undoing my blouse and then bra, I knew 
things would only get more intense. As my bra dangled 
loose, his hands roughly mauled my breasts, and plucked 
at my nipples. As before, no matter where the 
stimulation is generated, it all sends its concentrated 
exhilaration down into my pussy.

Just as I was beginning to think my nipples were about 
to burst, I realised his hands had now moved on, and 
were applying the attention elsewhere. At first I 
wondered where or what they were doing, then as I felt 
my skirt coming over my hips, and down my legs to meet 
my knees on the hay, I almost tried to stop him. But as 
I began to lift my head, a hand pulled it back firmly 
onto his cock, and his thrusting was attempting to ram 
it into my throat. But a cock that fat could only just 
enter my throat an inch at most.

And while my attention was concentrating on the cock 
trying to fill my throat, he single-handedly lifted me 
by my tummy out of my skirt, and lowered me back down 
on top of himself. As my knees landed one to his left 
side, and one on his chest, I instinctively lifted the 
one from his chest, and spread myself astride his head. 
It only took one swift tug with his fingers to pull the 
gusset of these scanty panties to one side, and then he 
had my pussy within his reach.

As his tongue made contact with my pussy, I heaved 
myself down onto him, and he latched onto my pussy, 
sucking and licking for all he was worth. So here we 
were, me humping as hard as I could, with him gripping 
my hips, and his head going up and down with me. Whilst 
at the other end, he was humping like crazy, and try as 
I might to take his cock into my throat, the force of 
it was pushing my head back and forth like the head on 
a rag doll.

This action was very short-lived, and in no more than 
three or four minutes, he was cuming in a series of 
jerks into my throat. I never got the chance to taste 
his cum; it was injected straight into my stomach. But 
I had not yet reached the point of orgasm; maybe it was 
the initial fear that had delayed my build-up, or just 
him being so worked up, he'd cum prematurely. But as 
his cock softened in my mouth, I tasted his cum as it 
slid out over my tongue and from my lips. He 
immediately turned me over, so he was now on top, and 
his face buried itself into my pussy. So, even though 
he’d had his satisfaction, he was still working my 
pussy, to bring me to mine.

I remember thinking how wonderful it would be if my 
Michael did this for me, instead of just rolling over 
once he’d shot his cum. I had my legs stretched as wide 
as I could manage, not because he was pulling them, but 
because I wanted him to be able to get his tongue as 
deep as possible. Then without warning, he turned 
around, and he was now facing up towards me, his head 
still down in between my legs. But now his hands took 
hold of my legs under the backs of my knees, and he 
lifted them right up alongside my body, lifting my 
bottom up for his tongue to excite.

At first I kind of thought it slightly improper, but as 
soon as his licking started, it re-kindled the feelings 
the fingering and licking Ian had given me a few days 
ago. As he licked and poked his tongue up my bottom, I 
could feel my pussy pulsing wildly. It wanted filling, 
and it wanted it badly. Then Peter let go of my legs, 
and I let them fall splayed open.

He lowered himself on top of me, his face above my 
tits, and he began to suck from one nipple to the other 
and back. My hips were giving the spasmodic heaving, as 
the pulses drove down to my pussy. I felt the big head 
of his cock sliding along my pussy slit, and it slipped 
up over my mound and lay on my tummy. He pressed 
himself down onto me. Then lifted his weight back off. 
As his weight came off I heaved my pussy up past the 
end of his cock, and heaved down. It slipped along my 
slit, going in the opposite direction to last time. As 
it reached my hole, my pussy almost swallowed it in one 
gulp. 

Then as he thrust, I felt my pussy walls stretching 
wide, but the stretching kept going right up deep 
inside me. It was like it was inflating my tummy, and 
he didn’t back-off until his balls crashed into my 
crotch. 

"Oh yes! Peter fuck me! Oh god I love you. Fuck it. Yes 
deep. Oh peter more."

Well I guess you’ve heard the kind of silly things we 
girls say when we are enjoying a good fucking, and I 
guess I said them all, and not just in a quiet voice. I 
won't say I was screaming at the top of my voice, but I 
was certainly making a fair old noise.

As my arousal got more intense, so did my vocalisation 
and physical response to the brutish shafting he was 
giving my pussy. The harder he pounded me, the greater 
the intensity of my arousal. As he fucked my pussy; his 
mouth was not just nibbling gently on my nipples, but 
was now biting and pulling. This rough treatment was 
driving me wild. I was now in my world of ecstasy where 
reality and imagination begin to mingle and mix into an 
indistinguishable illusion. 

With the heat of the day, and all this exertion, both 
our bodies were sweating profusely, and my eyes had 
long since closed to avoid the stinging perspiration. 
My hair was stuck to my wet face, and I’d guess I 
looked a mess. His pace changed, he now eased his cock 
in a slow long thrusting, using every inch of his 
massive shaft to penetrate deep into my pussy. Still 
fucking me long and deliberately, I felt his fingers 
gently combing my locks of hair from my face, and 
uncovering my forehead. He gently wiped across it 
removing the sweaty beads, and began to kiss it. From 
my forehead, his kisses floated across my cheeks, and 
caressed my lips as he nuzzled into the nape of my 
neck. 

How could this man be so wonderful, one minute fucking 
me so powerfully; like he was the big black stallion I 
watched earlier in the stable. The next, caressing my 
face and hair, and kissing me so gently. Then back to 
an animalistic ravishing of my tits, ripping at my 
nipples. This contrasting stimulation was driving me 
totally wild. Then I heard Peter's voice, and even in 
my trancelike state, when I heard Brian answer, I began 
to realise something was not as I’d thought. And from 
Peter’s questions, I guess he’d only just realised as 
well.

"Brian, what are you doing?"

"I’m just warming up and waiting my turn."

"No just go, before she realises you’re here."

"Don’t be so fucking silly. You’re getting your share, 
I want mine."

I opened my eyes to find Brian‘s face directly in front 
of mine.

"Ah, so you aren’t asleep."

And with that he planted a kiss on my lips, preventing 
me from answering him.

Peter had almost stopped, and was propping himself up 
on his hands.

"Look Brian. Just fuckoff. I’ve only just got her 
going, if you start fucking about, she’ll go off the 
boil, and neither of us’ll get a fuck."

"Well don’t let her then, you get back to ramming her 
cunt, and I’ll keep her face occupied."

I tried to have my say. "Please Peter, Brian no. Don’t 
do this to me."

"Stop your bleating woman, once he gets his cock back 
up your cunt, you’ll soon start begging for more."

And as he said that he brought his big fat cock up to 
my lips, preventing me from protesting, and Peter just 
re-started ramming me. And even though I at first 
wanted to protest, Brian was right, within a few 
penetrations of Peter’s wonderful cock, I was riding 
him hard, and sucking Brian. It wasn’t too long before 
I detected Peters jerking motion, and I knew he was 
pumping his cum deep up inside me. But being as my 
arousal had been almost halted by the surprise arrival 
of Brian, I didn’t manage to cum with him.

But that wasn't to say I'd gone off the boil 
completely, on the contrary, I was well and truly on my 
way to an orgasm. So as he moved over, and Brian moved 
into position, I showed no sign of resistance. Brian 
gripped my waist, and his cock touched my pussy lips, I 
heaved myself onto him. As he rammed himself deep up 
inside me, I heard him say to Peter in a smug voice.

"See brother, I told you the bitch would fuck for both 
of us. You didn’t think you’d got something special I 
hadn’t got did you?"

Peter didn’t answer Brian, but knelt down by my head, 
and caressed my forehead.

"You’ll be ok Shirl; it’ll not do you any harm, just go 
with him."

I didn’t answer; I was too busy fucking Brian. It was 
like I didn't want Brian to think he'd got the better 
of me. I wanted him to know he wasn't fucking me; but 
that I was fucking him.

"Fuck me harder. Come on. Fuck me. Harder. Come on fuck 
me like Peter."

That was the spark that set-off the fireworks. I guess 
I knew what I’d said, and why, and Brian reacted 
violently. He fucked me like he was trying to smash 
down a brick building with a jack hammer, crashing his 
balls into my crotch. But I just heaved hard to meet 
him, deliberately giving as good as I got, not wanting 
him to think he’d got the better of me.

Well when he began to cum, my pussy went crazy, 
gripping his cock and then squirting cum out in 
alternating spasms. He pumped his cum up me for a good 
half minute, but I carried on long after he pulled out. 
When I came to my normal senses, Peter was first to 
ask.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes. A bit week and wobbly, but I’m ok."

"Sorry about Brian, I guess you made a bit more noise 
than I expected you to. I really thought we’d be safe 
up here. But I’m sure he’ll keep our secret, and you 
got the good seeing-to I said you needed."

Well that was one thing he got right, I certainly got a 
good seeing-to, just these two men on their own, have 
satisfied me more than all four of those mountain 
rescue men did during any of their sessions over the 
weekend. And I can tell you something else; both of 
them are like the continental Lager they advertise on 
TV, they reached parts of me, that nobody else has ever 
reached. So although my original intention was to just 
satisfy Peter; to re-pay his kindness and maybe keep 
him from getting over amorous, they’d now satisfied 
that aching that had been deep inside my pussy since 
Michael left me unfulfilled last night.

Although I hadn’t planned for this to happen, I 
couldn’t lay the blame for what had just happened at 
Peter’s door. I realise now part of Peter’s analysis of 
my condition must be fairly accurate, and it was me who 
allowed the situation to get out of control, even if it 
wasn’t intentional.

Peter had pulled his trousers back on, but Brian was 
still flat-out on his back, his big soft cock laid 
across the tops of his legs. I began to use handfuls of 
the soft hay to wipe myself down in preparation to 
putting my skirt and blouse back on again. Through all 
the fucking I’d just received, my panties had stopped 
on, with just the narrow gusset pulled to one side. I 
straightened them up, and reached for my bra. Then with 
panties and bra sorted, I got to my feet, and walked 
over to where my skirt had been thrown.

Brian looked across.

"Ok Shirley. What was all that about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don’t play dumb. Little miss prim and proper, the only 
girl over twenty in the whole of Yorkshire who walked 
down the isle as a virgin. And as far as we could see 
still gave every sign of still being one some three 
months after being wed. And now you’re taking cock and 
using brothel-talk as crudely as any pro you’d find in 
a dockside pub in Hull."

"It’s just clicked, is this change something to do with 
what happened to you this weekend," asked Peter.

"Why? What happened to her this weekend?"

"Her Michael fell down a rock face on Saturday, and he 
had to be brought down by rescue men in a stretcher. So 
while he spent Saturday night in hospital, I guess 
Shirley was on her own."

"Come-on then Shirley, tell us what happened," said 
Brian.

"Nothing happened, Michael fell, and these men went up 
and rescued him. That's all."

"Now Shirley, we’ve both known you for a lot of years 
now, and even if Brian was a bit crude with his 
summing-up, you have to admit he was pretty damn 
accurate. I knew you were on heat, but for the life of 
me I couldn’t understand why. It must have been 
something to do with what happened this weekend; you 
weren’t like this last week."

"Please, don’t keep going on. I can't tell you. And 
please, I’m begging you; don’t breathe a word about 
what we’ve just been doing to anyone."

"You know we wouldn’t tell a sole, would we Pete?"

"She knows that. But if you only tell us what’s 
happened, maybe we could do something to help you. But 
if you want to keep it to yourself, that’s your choice. 
But next time you’re on heat don’t leave it so long, no 
need to feel embarrassed, just tip us the wink."

"Oh no, it won't happen again, I feel so ashamed."

"Don’t be silly, as Pete said don’t leave it so long 
next time, you never know who will take advantage. At 
least with us, you know we’ll keep your secret."

"Ok, thank you. But I really don’t think it’ll happen 
again. Now by the sound of the bells in the yard, I 
think we must have a queue of customers a mile long."

"Well I promised I’d bag some spuds, so I’d better get 
on and do some, or dad’ll wonder what our Shirley has 
been playing at all day. And if the number of customers 
is anything like it was at dinnertime, you’d better 
help Shirley to serve them."

"Well I guess that’s not much to ask in return for the 
fucking she just gave me."

"Come-on Brian, there’s no need to make her feel 
uncomfortable."

"I guess your right, sorry shirl; I didn't mean that 
nasty like."

With my head bowed down in shame, I replied, "No Brian, 
I'm the one who should be ashamed. You were right; I 
did go a bit wild."

He lifted my chin with his outstretched fingers, and 
planted a soft kiss on my lips, and said, "Never mind 
who fucked who, thank you love. That was the best I've 
ever known."

Then as he walked away, Peter walked up, and lifted my 
chin in the same manner, and his kiss was longer, and 
more intense, we even mingled tongues.

"Thank you. He wasn’t exaggerating, you are 
exceptional." 

Well with that, we left the barn, at first, with one of 
them either side of me, arms around my back, and both 
of them with hands on my bottom. I felt such an inner 
glow, not just as a result of the fucking, but enhanced 
by their wonderful comments. Then as we left the barn, 
and walked out into the yard, as I’d expected from the 
number of times I’d heard the bell ringing, there was a 
yard full of cars. So they let me walk ahead lest 
anyone should see then getting too familiar. But all 
the way back up to the farm shop I could feel their 
eyes burning into my bottom as they watched my every 
footstep intently.

When I arrived at the shop doorway, there was a queue 
of customers waiting. We all three started to serve 
them, but as the queue began to shorten, Peter went 
into the potato shed and began the bagging, so his dad 
wouldn’t wonder what I’d been doing all day. Brian and 
I carried on serving, and the customers kept coming. 
I’m sure we served as many in this one day as I’d 
normally serve in a week. And I’m also sure, Brian 
brushed himself up against my bottom deliberately as he 
passed behind me, more times than I could count. 
Nothing came of any of these fleeting caresses, and I 
don’t think any of the customers noticed anything, but 
my pussy sure did. 

Five o’clock, which was Finishing time, came and went, 
and we still had customers arriving. As I knew the 
farmer Mr Holmes would want to take advantage of this, 
I phoned Michael and let him know I’d be late home, and 
then carried on serving. Mr Holmes (his first name was 
Brian the same as his son, but I always called him Mr 
Holmes) arrived back in the yard around six thirty, and 
by now we were down to only one or two people to serve. 
He was amazed to see me still here, and when he looked 
at the till receipts, his smile was almost ear to ear. 

He left me to serve the last few people while he talked 
to Brian. While I was serving, I could hear Brian 
telling him all about my weekend (or at least the 
version that had been printed in the paper), and about 
how my being in the paper had boosted trade. Then Peter 
came in from the potato shed to join them, and as all 
three of them left the shop to go up to the farmhouse, 
Mr Holmes said, "When you’ve finished serving the last 
few people, lock-up, and then come up to the house to 
see me before you go home."

I finished serving, locked up and made my way up to the 
house, wondering just what he wanted to see me about. 
Mr Holmes lived in the house with his two sons; his 
wife had died some ten or more years ago. When I 
knocked on the door, Peter opened it.

"Come in. Dads in the front room, you go on through."

When I walked in, both Brian and his dad were watching 
TV, but as soon as Mr Holmes saw me, he clicked the 
remote shutting the TV off, and then turning to Brian.

"Can you go and find something to keep yourself busy, 
I’ve got to talk to Shirley in private." 

Brian left without comment, and closed the door behind 
him as he went.

"Come on love, sit yourself down. Can I get you 
something to drink or eat before we start?"

"No thank you."

I was now very curious to know what he wanted to talk 
to me about. Had peter told him about me and that 
machine? Or had Peter or Brian told him about the 
goings-on in the barn?

"Don’t look so worried my dear, I’ve only asked you 
here to see if I can help you."

"Help me? Help me with what?"

"Don’t you remember me giving you those maps?"

Yes, come to think of it, he had given me some maps 
when Michael and I first began our fell walking. Maps 
of recognised walks and climbing locations.

"Yes, thank you. We’ve used them a few times, they were 
handy. But..."

"The reason I had them in the first place, was because 
I used to be a keen climber in my younger days, and 
although I no longer have any use for them, I’m still a 
member of the climbing club; in fact I’m one of only 
two of the original members. And it was lads from our 
club that came to your Michael’s rescue this weekend."

As he was talking it began to dawn on me he must know 
what kind of thing those ‘rescuers’ got up to whenever 
they encountered helpless females. And as I became 
alerted to his awareness I must have began to colour-up 
bright red.

"Now now my dear, don’t go getting all worked-up. I can 
guess what you’ve been put through, and I can only 
apologise. But believe me; I will do my best to put 
things right for you."

"Please Mr Holmes; I don’t want to talk about it."

"I can understand how you feel. Well me'be I can't, but 
I know how I’d feel if you were my daughter. You know, 
I sometimes look on you as the daughter we never had."

"I know you’ll think I’m as bad as those men who helped 
your Michael, but at least let me explain."

He went on to tell me how he and a few other climbers 
many years ago, set-up this club. Then as some of them 
got experienced, they set-up their voluntary rescue 
team, and it was originally just that; a genuine rescue 
force. But about five years ago, on advice from a 
central England rescue body, they were advised to adopt 
the nanny-cam procedure, following a case of improper 
conduct brought against a rescue member in Wales. 

This they did, and on only the second time of using it, 
completely unintentionally, the woman got aroused, not 
to the point of orgasm, but enough to plant the seed of 
a devious idea in one of the medics heads. Apparently 
he played the video back to club members. And five 
years ago, the membership was down to fifteen in total, 
and the club was in danger of disbanding due to lack of 
interest. Well the ten or so members that were present 
when the video was played, all got pretty worked-up 
watching this girl in the video, and someone suggested 
sending her a letter, suggesting she could come to the 
club to collect her video, and adding if she didn’t, 
maybe they’d pass it on to her boyfriends work-mates.

It was obvious blackmail, knowing she wouldn’t want her 
boyfriend to find out about her getting worked-up 
whilst being examined by a medic, especially finding 
out from his work-mates, who’d seen her on screen. But 
it was worded so they could just say; they meant they’d 
return it to her via the work-mates and then the 
boyfriend. Well needless to say the poor girl arrived 
at the club some nights later, and was ‘taken advantage 
of’ as Mr Holmes put it, by the thirteen men who were 
present. She then witnessed her tape being smashed into 
pieces, and she left, never to be bothered again.

Mr Holmes says he only found out what had happened some 
time later, and by then, two more ladies had been 
compromised. And both of these were being forced to 
attend the club once a week each, and were being ‘taken 
advantage of’ by all members that were present. And by 
now the membership had risen by five. He said he tried 
to stop the practice, but couldn’t bring himself to 
Welch on these men to the police. Especially as some of 
them had been involved in a rescue some time in the 
past, that had saved his life. So he managed to get 
them to agree to a kind of compromise. A set of rules 
was drawn-up, the most important of which was to limit 
the number of times anyone is called to the club to 
once only.

There was also a rule that if any family member ever 
got involved, they’d automatically be excluded, but as 
he said even though he looked on me as a daughter, he 
couldn’t get me excluded using that rule. So he 
explained, that he had done as much as he could to try 
to protect the women who his friends ensnared in their 
traps, but he hadn’t actually prevented them carrying 
on with their wicked amusement. He begged me not to 
think too badly of him, saying his only alternative 
would be to turn traitor to his once friends.

He then assured me he would be going along to the club 
tonight to see exactly what sordid video of me they 
had, and try to prevent me being brought back to the 
club like all the other ladies had been, and hence 
prevent me being gang raped. He asked me to tell him in 
detail everything that had taken place on the weekend, 
as he said the more he knew, the more chance there 
would be of him being able to negotiate on my behalf. 
And even though the whole episode made me cringe with 
embarrassment, I knew he'd be seeing the video and 
talking with the men who’d fucked me, so I did as he’d 
asked, telling him every sordid detail, even telling 
him how my own body had connived against me, making me 
putty in their hands.

So off home I went, some three hours later than normal, 
to see my Michael and find out what kind of day he’d 
had. Not that I was about to tell him anything about 
mine! Well it seems the vicar Michael works for, had 
been in contact with the bishop of the diocese, and the 
pair of them had seized upon Michael's unfortunate 
accident as a means to get publicity, and maybe hold 
some kind of event to raise money for the Bell Tower 
restoration fund. The up-shot of all this, was that 
next Saturday, there would be an ‘Abseil From The Bell 
Tower’ event held at the church.

They’d contacted the members of the rescue team, and 
they were willing to organise it, with all monies made 
being split 50/50 between the church and the rescue 
team. Their idea was to haul people to the top of the 
bell tower on the outside of the building, using a rope 
chairlift. Then once safely onto the bell tower 
parapet, they would be put into a harness, and with a 
skilled climber accompanying them, they would be 
allowed to abseil down the tower wall. For this dubious 
privilege, they would pay five pounds (about eight 
dollars).

Well all this simply washed over me, my head was still 
wondering what was actually going on at this moment at 
the climbing club. But then Michael said something that 
focused my attention, and sent a chill through my body.

"The vicar and bishop will both be there, and they want 
me to bring you along as well."

"Me? Why? Surely I’m nothing to do with this? And I 
really don’t want to meet those men again."

"I’m sorry, but they’re trying to make as much of this 
as possible, and they’ve contacted the local TV people. 
It was them who suggested you should be there. You know 
what TV shows are like, they have to have a token woman 
in the program, even if the item is all about men doing 
mountain rescue, and vicars trying to refurbish bell 
towers."

"Please Michael, make some excuse, I don’t think I 
could go there, especially if the men from the climbing 
club are the same ones that rescued you."

"Well those four men will certainly be there, but there 
might be a few more as well. And as for you not going, 
I’ll tell the vicar you have made other plans, but he 
won't be pleased."

"I’m sorry Michael, but at this moment, pleasing your 
boss doesn’t come very high on my list of priorities."

Well with that, we both sat down and had the very late 
meal I’d just prepared whilst we’d been talking. Once 
we'd finished the meal, and I'd cleared everything away 
and washed-up, I was about to put the TV on, to try to 
calm myself down.

"Don’t bother with the TV, I think with all that’s gone 
on today, and this ankle of mine throbbing, I’m going 
to go up now and have an early night."

"Ok darling, but its only nine o’clock, I think I’ll 
just watch TV for an hour before I come up."

"I was hoping you’d come up with me."

His words were asking, but his look was an instruction. 
I guess I could have made something of it, but like the 
dutiful wife, I just turned the TV back off, and 
followed him up the stairs. It was daylight, and even 
with the bedroom curtains drawn, the bedroom was light. 
So if I’d stripped in-front of him, he’d notice the 
sexy knickers I was wearing, and this might raise 
questions, so I took my nightdress into the bathroom 
with me, and when I came out I just slipped my used 
clothes into the wash basket. 

As I slipped into bed alongside him, he said, "It’s 
been a hot day today."

A very weird remark to make, especially after almost 
instructing me to come to bed so he could fuck me!

"Yes, it was sweltering working in those farm 
buildings."

"Wouldn’t you feel cooler without your nightdress?"

This was definitely not the Michael I knew. He’d never 
seen me naked, well not until last Saturday when those 
men were fucking me!

I was about to slip it off without making any comment, 
but then the devil began to play with my mind, and I 
thought I’d try teasing him.

"If you’re too hot, I can go and sleep in the spare 
room, if that’ll let you get a better night’s sleep."

"No, I didn’t mean I’m feeling hot. I just thought 
maybe you’d be more comfortable."

I began to slip out of bed.

"Where are you going? I said there was no need for you 
to go to the spare room."

As I walked across and stood by my wardrobe so that he 
could get a full view of me.

"Don’t worry. I don’t want to just drop my nightdress 
on the floor and have it getting all creased up."

And with that I stood there and slipped it off, 
revealing myself in total nakedness. I took my time 
putting the nightdress into the wardrobe, and then 
turned to face him.

"Is that what you wanted to see?"

"Shirley! My god woman! Why are you behaving like this? 
Get into bed quickly.

"But Michael, there’s only us two here, and you’re the 
one that wanted me naked."

I’d made my way back to the bed, and taking him by 
surprise, with one swift whoosh I pulled the light 
quilt from the bed, and it floated across the room and 
landed over by the windows.

For just a split second, he lay there, naked, his hands 
encircling his rock hard cock as it stood to attention 
pointing to the ceiling.

"God woman! Have you gone mad?"

He turned to one side, trying to conceal his erection 
from my view, but his movements were still hampered by 
the strapped-up ankle and I guess the pain it gave him 
when he moved quickly. But I wasn't, I moved quickly, 
and in seconds I was on the bed, stood with my legs 
astride him, presenting him with a view of my pussy.

"For gods sake Shirley get down."

And with that he reached up and as he took hold of my 
hand he jerked me down onto the bed. I fell in a heap 
alongside him, and he rolled over, so he was now 
propping himself up on one arm, and leaning above me.

"Look here Shirley, you’ve got to stop this silly 
behaviour. I know last weekend was a trauma for you, 
but it’s about time you started to get yourself back to 
normal. I’ll say prayers for you, and it wouldn’t hurt 
for you to do some praying yourself, before you loose 
all sense of morals and decency."

Then he got off the bed, and hobbled across to retrieve 
the quilt which he then spread across the bed, covering 
me up. He then got back into bed, and as he slid under 
the quilt he placed his arm around me.

"Now come on, let’s do it like decent folk, with a 
sense of decorum."

I didn’t speak, and in truth I was on the point of 
laughing at his stupid pious attitude. He didn’t say 
anymore, he just mounted me, and began his manic 
thrashing. And as I’d expected, it lasted no more than 
a couple of minutes, before his gasping and moaning 
signified he’d had his satisfaction. Then as before he 
just rolled off me, and within minutes he was snoring.

I got up, showered, and sat in the bathroom, legs open 
and my fingers working my clit. This was my first try 
at getting myself off, and though not anything special, 
it was certainly better than laying in bed feeling 
frustrated. So next morning I once again sorted out a 
pair of sexy panties to wear, and I still had my spare 
panties in my bag. I also sorted out a spare pair of my 
normal cotton knickers, just in case I needed to make 
myself look decent for some reason.

As I left for work, I said goodbye to Michael who was 
still in bed, and I arrived at the farm by eight 
o’clock. As I approached the shop, I could see someone 
had already unlocked the door. When I looked inside, 
there was Mrs Miller, a lady aged about fifty from the 
nearby village. She only normally served on weekends, 
or when I took my holidays.

"Hello, I didn’t expect to see you here."

"Ah! Shirley my dear. I was waiting for you to arrive, 
Mr Holmes phoned me last night, and said he would be 
going out on some business trip today, and as he needed 
to take you along with him, he wanted me to come and 
look after the shop, so here I am. He said to send you 
up to the house when you arrive."

"Well I can’t imagine why he needs me, but I guess I’d 
better go and find out. See you later."

That was a lie, I could imagine why he wanted me, I 
assumed he’d got something sorted out last night at the 
club. I was knocking at the back door, he opened it.

"Come in love, let’s go into the parlour. That’s it sit 
yourself down. Right my dear, I haven’t managed to get 
you off scot-free, but I’ve got the best deal I can for 
you."

"Thank you."

"Well let’s not get into the thank you business yet, I 
haven’t told you what they are asking for. They seem to 
be saying you’re a bit special, the performance you 
give when you cum."

I coloured up, and put my hands up to cover my face.

"Sorry Shirley, I know it sounds vulgar of me, but it's 
the way the lads were all raving about you. And I have 
to say, on that video, they hardly even touched you 
before you were going wild. I’ve never seen the like 
before, that fanny of yours opening and closing as it 
sprayed out cum. Sorry love, but that's what I saw. 
Well all the lads in the club have seen the video, and 
the very least I can get you off with, is to come to 
the club, and let them get you off. They all want to 
see you give that same performance for real."

"So I have to go to the club and let someone, you 
know?"

"Yes. But they recon you'll be easy to get going, and 
from watching that video, I had to agree. It's the only 
way I can get them to agree to letting you see that 
video being scrapped."

"But I won't have to let anyone have sex with me?"

"No. I managed to persuade them it wasn’t worth them 
taking that risk."

"What risk?"

"I told them I’d blow the whistle on their little game 
if they did that to you. They said they didn’t think 
I’d go that far, but I don’t think they dare put it to 
the test."

I felt so grateful to him for helping me, especially as 
he obviously felt he owed some of those men a debt of 
gratitude for saving his life. Without thinking about 
my actions, I leapt from my chair, and flung my arms 
around his neck, and gave him a great big kiss.

"Thank you Mr Holmes, I really am grateful. When will I 
have to go there?"

"Well I told them you wouldn’t be able to go on any 
evening; it would need to be during the daytime. I 
figured, there would be less of them able to get time 
off work during the day, so you’d have less of an 
audience."

"Thank you, I wouldn’t have thought of that. So what 
day are they expecting me?"

"Well again, I thought, strike while the irons hot, and 
less of them will be able to arrange time off. So were 
due there in about an hour’s time."

"Oh my god! But I guess if I’ve got to do it, the 
sooner its over with the better. Then I won't have to 
spend days worrying about it."

"That’s my girl, by this afternoon; it’ll all be behind 
you. And from then on, you can just forget it ever 
happened."

Well we had a cup of tea, and before I knew it, it was 
time to set off for what I hoped would be my final 
encounter with those men. We arrived at the club house, 
a wooden building in the corner of a field in the 
middle of no-where. As Mr Holmes pulled into the rough 
pot-holed car park, there were hardly any spaces 
available for parking.

"My god, looks like my idea of doing this during the 
daytime didn’t reduce the number of men by very much."

We walked in, and as all the shutters were closed 
tightly against the windows, it could just as easily 
have been night time. The building consisted of a large 
room with a bar running half way down one side. Behind 
the bar in the corner of the room was a large TV 
mounted on the wall. There was a space in front of the 
bar without any tables, and this walkway continued to 
the end of the room, where it met up with an opening to 
the next room. This opening didn’t have a door, and it 
led to the smaller of the two main rooms. Off to the 
side behind the bar was a small kitchen area, this did 
have a door separating it from the main room.

The instant I walked in, there was an air of deja vu 
about the place, but then I thought, ‘I guess it’s 
similar to most village or church halls in layout’ 
accept for the bar would normally be a serving counter 
for tea and cakes. As soon as the men saw me walk in, 
we were surrounded, and everyone wanted to say hello, 
and they also appeared to think it was quite acceptable 
to touch and feel me, like I was some kind of sex 
slave!

"Back off! Before I take her back home!"

Mr Holmes barked out in a loud and very forceful 
manner. They did as he’d told them, and a narrow 
corridor formed in the crowd of men, allowing us to 
make our way to one of the tables. As we sat down, I 
could hear music coming from the smaller room, and my 
mind began to wander. It was almost like a dream 
sequence in a movie. The feeling of being here before 
came flooding back, and with it a sudden wetness in my 
panties.

It was like I’d had an instantaneous mini-orgasm, but 
why; nobody had touched me, well nothing serious. Then 
I felt an irresistible urge to see what was in the room 
where the music was coming from. Mr Holmes had been 
talking with Ian and one of the other men, and I think 
they were discussing how they were going to setup my 
performance, but as I say, I was off in a dream land, 
and they were just somewhere in the back of my mind.

Without listening to their conversation or waiting 
until whoever was speaking had finished, I butted in, 
"What’s in that room?"

"What?" Snapped Ian.

"That room down there. What’s in there?"

"Don’t you worry your pretty little head about things 
like that. Stalling won't get you out of giving the 
lads a show."

"Tell me! I want to know what’s in that room?"

Mr Holmes answered me, "Don’t get yourself het-up my 
dear. It’s just a gaming room. They’ve got a pool 
table, a couple of one-arm-bandits, a juke-box, and an 
old pinball machine. There’s nothing to worry you in 
there."

"Can I take a look?"

"I told you, its no good you stalling."

"Back off Ian, if she wants to take a look, I’m sure 
you can wait five minutes."

Then as Mr Holmes got to his feet, he took my arm, 
"Come on my love, I’ll show you there’s no’t to be 
afraid of."

He walked me to the opening, and as I stood there, I 
began to tremble. My body was going into full slut 
mode, my pussy began to pulse wildly, and I knew the 
juice was running from it, and would be sliming up the 
tops of my legs. It all clicked in a sudden flash. I 
was the girl in the film. The film Michael and I had 
watched some weeks ago, when he’d turned the TV off. 
Everything was there, the juke box against the far 
wall, some men stood around at the various machines.

I walked to the juke box, and as I scanned the 
available music, someone put a coin in the machine for 
me. I selected a song I could dance to, and bearing in 
mind, the only dancing I’d ever done before in public 
was normal ballroom. I tried my best to emulate the 
dirty sultry writhing and gyrating type of dancing that 
the girl in the film had been doing. Instantly there 
was a circle of men around me, trying to out dance each 
other to be my partner. By the time the first song I’d 
selected was a minute old, one man had proved he had 
what it took, and we were dancing around together, and 
by now he was taking hold of me to twirl me around, and 
at times bending me right over backwards so that my 
loose thin skirt fell into the valley of my crotch. 

Then as the music stopped and while someone was 
selecting a new song, I asked, "Have any of you seen a 
film called the accused?"

At first there was a general look of ‘what the hell is 
she on about’?

As I looked around the sea of faces, I could see their 
eyes light up one by one as the penny dropped. There 
was then a mad rush to be the first one to carry me 
across to the pinball machine. As the first man took 
hold of me by my waist, and began to carry me across 
the floor, I saw Mr Holmes coming striding through the 
crowd. He was thrashing his arms from side to side, 
knocking men out of his path, like an explorer cutting 
his way through the jungle undergrowth. I shouted to 
him, as soon as he was within earshot.

"I’m ok. Please Mr Holmes; I want them to do this to 
me."

He looked stunned, and more than a little disappointed 
as he turned and slowly pushed his way back out through 
the crowd. I guess if he looked on me as his daughter, 
it would be hard to understand. But back to my would-be 
rapist, who it was obvious had seen the film, and was 
about to re-enact the part of the first rapist.

At this point I’d advise anyone who hasn’t seen the 
film ‘The Accused’ to get hold of a copy, and watch it. 
Also you have to realize, that I had only seen the film 
up to the point where one man had raped the girl, and 
the second was about to. And as there was a room full 
of men, I assumed they’d all taken it in turns, meaning 
she’d been gang raped by at least ten, maybe fifteen 
men.

But back to my situation, as he lifted my bottom onto 
the edge of the pinball machine, and pushed me back 
into a full reclining position, I began to protest. 
Like I remember the girl in the film doing. Not that I 
wanted him to stop, I was just role-playing, and 
living-out a fantasy. Luckily the men around either 
realized this, or maybe they didn’t care. But I was 
told later, that at this point it took five men to man-
handle Mr Holmes into the other room, where it was 
explained to him what the film was about.

The sex was an exact re-run of the film; except that 
since then I have seen the film myself in full, and I 
now know they didn’t all fuck her. But in my case, they 
did, every man in the club, excluding Mr Holmes, and 
most of them came back for second helpings. It was 
living out a fantasy in the extreme, they ‘took 
advantage of me’ first on the pinball machine. Then a 
couple of men wanted to double fuck me, so I was 
carried across to the pool table.

Once on the pool table, this was where the majority of 
the remaining action took place. They just trooped up 
one after another. I had hands on every part of my 
body, and cocks pushed in every conceivable orifice. I 
tried my hardest to keep in character, by keeping up my 
protesting, pretending I was actually being raped, but 
by the time I’d been on the pool table for a few 
minutes, my desire to be fucked just took over my 
speech as well as my bodily reactions. Most of the 
latter part of this event is a blur, and although I 
came several times, I have no idea just how many.

I walked unsteadily from that back room some two and a 
half hours later, still naked, and carrying my crumpled 
and creased clothes with me to the toilet. I did a 
make-shift job of cleaning myself up, and then once 
dressed; I opened the door to the main room. The whole 
room broke out in a chorus of whoops, cheers and all 
manner of other calls. The men were all staring my way, 
clapping and smiling. The comments about how good they 
thought I’d been were crude and to the point, but 
inwardly, they still gave me a sneaky feeling of pride.

As they all calmed down, I walked over to the table 
where Mr Holmes was sat, his head bowed down, and both 
his hands encircling his half drunk pint glass of beer. 
Even as I reached the edge of the table, he didn’t lift 
his head to acknowledge me. I spoke quietly to him.

"I’m ready to go when you are."

He didn’t reply, or even lift his head; he just got to 
his feet, turned and began to walk towards the door. I 
knew from his manner he was really upset, but one thing 
stood out more poignantly than any other. He’d left his 
unfinished pint of beer! If you know anything about a 
true Yorkshire man, then that is one thing you’ll never 
see them do. Unlike all the TV soaps and films, if a 
real Yorkshire man buys a pint of beer, he never leaves 
until he’s drunk every last drop of it.

But that is by the by; we got into his car, and on the 
journey home the only words spoken were me apologising 
for my behaviour, Mr Holmes never spoke a word. When we 
got to the farm, he got out of his car, and as I closed 
the door my side, he said, "We ain’t got no fancy 
shower here, but if you come up to the house, there’ll 
be enough hot water for you to take a bath."

And with that he turned and began walking towards the 
house. After running across to my car to get my little 
bag with spare underwear, I followed in silence.

When I got to the door, I was about to knock as usual, 
but felt like I was in some way annoying him, and 
didn’t want to knock the door. So for the first time 
ever, I slowly turned the handle and let myself in.

"Mr Holmes. Are you there?"

I heard his voice coming from the parlour, "I’m here in 
the parlour."

"Shall I go straight up and get myself cleaned up?"

"You do that lass. I’ll stop down here. I'll not leave 
you alone in the house; I’ll wait till you’re done 
before I set off to the fields."

So in this ancient looking bathroom, with cobwebs and I 
guess spiders lurking everywhere, I stripped off, and 
had my bath. The warmth of the water felt so relaxing, 
but the thought of all those spiders hiding in their 
webs, watching and ready to jump out on me, made me 
nervous. So I just gave myself a very quick wash down, 
and in no time I was climbing out and looking for a 
towel to dry myself down with. As I opened the bathroom 
door, I heard someone knocking on the front door.

"Ah. Ian. What the bloody hell do you want? Come to 
take the piss out of me I suppose."

"Hey Brian, don’t be like that. You weren’t to know. 
She fooled me as well; at first. Any way, we can't talk 
out here, can I come in?"

Mr Holmes didn’t answer, but as the voices got closer, 
and the front door closed, I assume he’d just turned 
around, and Ian was following him into the parlour. I 
carefully descended part way down the stairs, so I 
could hear more clearly what was being said, "I’ll tell 
you, the first sight we got of her, she was so prim and 
proper, I nearly didn’t even try to get her. In fact, 
if it hadn’t been for where she hurt herself, I’m sure 
I wouldn’t have attempted it. But she..."

"Don’t bother. She told me where she hurt herself, and 
what you did."

"But I promise, even if I’d not been trying, she just 
came to life. Well you saw the video. Oh by the way, 
that’s why I’ve come, you forgot to take these with 
you."

"Is that all the stuff you've got, no photos or 
anything else?"

"That’s all. I promise. I’ve even deleted the files I 
copied onto my PC. Look Brian we’ve been pals for 
years, and even though we don’t see eye to eye on this 
kind of thing, I would never try to trick you."

"I guess so. I just feel I don’t know about people 
anymore."

"Hey! Come on, I know you thought the sun shone out of 
her backside, but we’re all different. She can't help 
needing loads of cock, its just ironic she’s a vicar’s 
wife."

"But she was sitting here this morning trembling, and 
looked like she was terrified at the thought of what 
you animals were going to do to her. And then when we 
get there. Well! I couldn’t watch. It was bad enough 
just listening, and her... she was ranting like she had 
the devil inside her."

"I should think she was, there was quite a few of us 
dirty devils inside her all at the same time, she fucks 
like no other girl I’ve ever known. Well to be honest, 
that is mainly why I came to see you."

"I thought you came to bring the videos I’d forgot?"

"Well yes that as well. But you saw her. That isn’t the 
girl or vicar’s wife you came to the club last night to 
plead for."

"She didn’t just accept a fucking. She wanted it, she 
begged for it, god she fucking demanded it. She fucked 
every one of us until we couldn’t get any more spunk 
out of our dicks! And there were at least twenty men in 
that club this morning. Surely you won't expect us to 
keep to our word and not have her back there again. 
Even for her sake; you can see she loved being fucked."

"Don’t say no more. Me'be your right, me'be you’re 
wrong, but what ever the case, you agreed to my 
conditions, and unless she tells me to my face she 
wants to become a whore, then if any of you try to get 
her back to the clubhouse, I’ll come looking for you. 
And mark my words; I won't be on my own. I’m not the 
only one that thinks the world of that little girl; my 
boys will rip the balls off anyone that does her wrong. 
In fact if they knew what you’d already done to her, 
you’d be pig food."

"Ok Brian, I get your message loud and clear, we won't 
touch her. But I can't help thinking, it’s her that is 
going to miss out, she really is begging for it."

"Think on lad, pals we might be, but I swear, if you 
cross me on this, you’ll not live to regret it, and 
there won't be anything left of you to bury."

"Come on Brian, there’s no need to get nasty."

"Nobody’s gonna’ get nasty, unless you step out of 
line."

"Well I’ll go then, but if she does..."

"Just go."

"Ok, maybe we’ll see you up the club one night?"

"I doubt it."

I heard them walking the length of the hall, and then 
the front door opened and closed a few seconds later. 
I’d stood there part way down the stairs listening, and 
by now I was almost dry, but I still needed a towel to 
complete the process. I was just going to call down, 
when.

"Well are you coming down? Or are you gonna’ stand on 
the stairs all day?"

"How did you know I was here?"

"I heard you tread on the second step from the top 
about ten minutes ago, it always creaks, it’s done it 
for years."

"So you knew I was listening?"

"I assumed as much, well are you coming down?"

"I I need a towel."

But instead of him walking back into the parlour as I’d 
thought he’d done, the next second there he was at the 
foot of the stairs looking up at me. I was naked, and 
had nothing at all in my hands to cover myself up with. 
You’d have thought after all that exposure and sexual 
action earlier, I wouldn't be shy. But now I felt so 
exposed, and I clasped one hand over my bush and the 
other arm around my breast.

He began to walk up the stairs towards me; I froze on 
the step I was on, not knowing if he was coming to 
claim his dues for helping me, or maybe coming to take 
revenge for me humiliating him in front of his pals. He 
reached me and we stood there for a second or two, 
looking eye to eye, even though he was a couple of 
steps down on the staircase. I felt his hands, big and 
rough skinned as they encircled my waist. The fingers 
so long, and my waist so thin, his finger ends almost 
touching. Without any sign of strain or effort on his 
face, I felt myself being lifted off the stair.

In my mind, although I was now not on heat, and had no 
signs of arousal, I knew I’d just let him take me to 
his bed, and I’d cooperate with what ever he wanted to 
do to me. As he lifted me, he turned me side on towards 
himself, and plonked me back down on the same stair 
he’d just lifted me up from, but right across to the 
side, with my bottom pressed against the spindles of 
the stair-case. Then his hands slipped away, and as he 
manoeuvred himself passed me, he carried on walking up 
the stairs.

I stood there, still petrified. By now he was walking 
across the landing toward one of the bedrooms.

"Well come on then if you want a towel."

I slowly made my way up the few steps, and stood on the 
landing waiting for him to bring me a towel. As he 
handed it to me, he said, "There’ll be a hot cup of tea 
waiting for you when you get down, don’t take all day."

So that was it, almost the first words he spoke to me 
since I embarrassed him, and we were back to the 
standard British answer to every known problem, ‘A cup 
of Tea’. Well at least some values never change, and 
maybe that is something I can hang onto in this 
whirlwind of mixed emotions that is spinning my head 
around.

As I walk into the parlour, fully refreshed from my 
bath, and clean underwear in place, under my slightly 
creased skirt and blouse, Mr Holmes is sitting there 
waiting to pour the tea. He hands me my cup and I sit 
down. There is an awkward silence, and then we both go 
to speak at the same time.

"I’m..."

"It’s..."

"No, after you," he says, ever the gentleman.

"Nothing really, I just wanted to say how sorry I am. I 
know I’ve disappointed you. And I’ve racked my brain to 
think how I can explain it to you. But there is no 
explanation. I just felt I had to do it. Please try not 
to think too badly of me. I promise it’s not like Ian 
said; I’m not a whore. And I never want to go back 
there again."

"I was going to say it’s none of my business. But I 
still feel like I’m your guardian or protector, and I 
can’t get my head around what you’ve just done."

"I know, I can’t explain it to myself, it was just 
something in my body, a kind of need or craving. Like a 
drug."

"I’ll tell you now lass, I feel like putting you across 
my knee and thrashing your arse until you can’t sit-
down or use that fanny for a week!"

"I’m sorry. I know I’ve let you down. And I promise; if 
I thought you chastising me, would cure me of this, I’d 
bend over your knee right now."

"What you saying, you don’t like doing what you just 
did?"

"I don’t know what is happening to me. Something just 
takes over my body, and I can’t stop myself."

"But you’ve never been that way before; it’s all come 
about since them animals abused you last weekend."

"That’s true. But I don’t think that is the whole 
story..."

I then went on to explain to him about the only two 
experiences of sex that I’d had before this weekend. 
And how I didn’t even know what an orgasm was, let 
alone my Michael even attempting to induce one. That 
since those men had shown my body the level of pleasure 
it could achieve, it now kind of expected something at 
least approaching that when ever I had sex. But with 
Michael being content to just satisfy himself, and then 
leaving me frustrated, the next day I seemed vulnerable 
to any kind of stimulation.

And since Michael came back from hospital, both nights 
he’s taken me to bed at the earliest chance he’s had, 
and then just satisfied himself. I even told him about 
my attempt to get Michael re-interested by going down 
there with my mouth, and how Michael had almost blown a 
fuse. Then I explained about the state I was in on 
Monday morning, and how the machine in the potato shed 
had got me aroused, or even simple things like seeing 
various animals mating. I then told him to be ready to 
hear something he wouldn’t like. And I made him promise 
he’d hear me out; before he acted on what I was about 
to tell him. I then told him about his sons having sex 
with me on the top of the hay in the lower barn, but I 
was very careful to make sure I took the blame for the 
whole episode.

At first he looked shocked, but then he mumbled 
something about thinking they both looked shifty last 
night when he arrived back, and then he continued.

"So what you’re saying is; when your Michael has sex 
but doesn’t satisfy you, you’ll have sex with anyone?"

"No. Or at least I hope not. In fact there was a man 
called in the yard yesterday..."

I told him all about what had happened, and how Peter 
had sent him on his way.

"But if anything happens, I just get worked up, you 
know turned on. And then, it kind of distorts my normal 
sense of what is right and wrong. Yesterday, it just 
felt right to have sex with your two boys, they are so 
manly, and I felt so safe with them. But all I can say 
about this morning; just knowing you were in the 
building made me feel safe. And that building so much 
resembled the bar in the film; it was as though it was 
meant to be. Like it was a way of completing the film 
my Michael hadn’t allowed me to see. I promise if you 
hadn’t been there as my protector, I’d never have dared 
do it. And if I embarrassed you, then please forgive 
me, I never meant to do that. If you want me to leave 
and find another job, I’ll understand."

"Don’t be silly lass, ok, I was shocked. And yes I’ll 
admit, it still takes a lot of swallowing. But you’ve 
always been a bonny lass, and if you have changed, the 
blame lies with Ian and his cronies. What we’ve got to 
sort out, is where you go from here."

"You want me to leave?"

"No lass, I mean what are we going to do about your 
problem? If we don’t sort you out soon, I can see 
someone taking advantage, and you ending-up getting 
hurt."

"I feel so ashamed, but as god is my witness, once the 
feeling in my tummy gets a hold of me, I just go to 
pieces. It’s only after I’ve, you know, been worked-up, 
and then, like now, I feel quite normal again."

"So if my lads were to walk in the door now, and take 
hold of your arm, would you let them take you to bed?"

"No. I’d tell them to leave me alone."

But as I spoke, just the picture he’d put in my mind, 
sowed the seed of an arousal in my tummy.

And with it, must have been a change in facial 
expression.

"What’s up lass?"

"I don’t know. But just you asking me, I can feel it 
starting."

"What?"

"You know, oh god, please can we talk about something 
else?"

"What? You telling me, just thinking about my boys is 
getting you on-heat?"

"I’m sorry."

"So is it the same when your Michael tells you he wants 
an early night? Are you already aroused by the time you 
get to the bedroom?"

I hadn’t thought about the idea of Michael, but now I 
did, all that came to mind was him giving me his final 
thrusts, and rolling off me. And then me feeling 
somehow cheated, or short-changed.

"Oh god Mr Holmes, will I rot in hell?"

"For heavens sake why?"

"My butterflies have gone, and all I can think is; I 
hope the novelty has worn off, and he doesn’t touch me 
tonight."

"Novelty worn off? And who doesn't touch you?"

"My Michael. He never used to think of sex, but at 
least then I wasn’t being partly worked-up, and left 
for the first man who wanted to take advantage of me. 
But now, he’s wanted me every night since he saw those 
men doing that to me."

"But you haven’t answered my question; does thinking of 
Michael turn you on?"

"No. Thinking of Michael has just got me feeling 
disillusioned, and frustrated."

"Well lass, if thinking about your husband turns you 
off, I think me’be you married the wrong man."

"Please don’t say that, I love my Michael. These 
feelings only started since this weekend, it’s as 
though him seeing me with those men excited him. But 
I’m sure he feels sex is wrong, so once he’s satisfied 
his own craving, he wants nothing to do with me."

"I know this will sound really wicked. But when I think 
of Michael, I just remember how he rolls off me when 
he’s satisfied, and then how I lie there all night just 
wanting more. But when I think of your boys, I see 
those great big cocks, and they just keep pushing up 
me, never stopping until... Oh god Mr Holmes. I’m 
sorry, god help me."

As I was speaking and thinking of my yesterdays 
fucking, I’d slipped forwards on the sofa, and now in a 
reclining position, I began to heave my hips. In 
seconds he was out of his chair, and sat sideways on 
the sofa next to me. He’d taken hold of my hand and his 
other arm was around my back with his hand on my 
shoulder.

"Come on Shirley, chase those images from your mind, 
and think about what your husband would say if he knew 
you were talking like this."

"I I’m sorry."

"Where is your Michael today?"

As I began to turn my thoughts from the session in the 
barn, to thinking where my Michael was, and who he 
might be talking to. This immediately quelled the 
turmoil that had welled-up in my tummy.

"Oh god Mr Holmes. Is there any hope for me? Do you 
think I should bend over your knee?"

"Well I can’t think right off, just how we’re gonna’ 
sort this out. But you’re in more trouble than I ever 
imagined, and a good thrashing isn’t gonna cure you. We 
need to think how we’re gonna keep you from sending 
signals to every man you meet, that you’re ripe for the 
picking."

"I I don’t know if I should mention this, but both 
Peter and Brian said if I ever got into a state again, 
they’d see to me."

"See to you, you mean..."

I could see he was struggling for the right expression, 
so I interrupted him.

"Yes."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"Well when I’m sort of normal, I know its wrong, and I 
feel ashamed. But if my Michael leaves me aching again 
tonight, then the second I see either of them in the 
morning; I just know, I’ll be theirs to do as they want 
with. And that is either or both; I know I’ll just want 
them."

"And if anyone else is here instead of them?"

"I I don’t know, like who?"

"Well I know I’m an antique; but they ain’t here right 
now, and I am?"

"I I’d never thought..."

"I’m too old for you then?"

"No, I just didn’t think you thought of me in that 
way."

"So when ever I’ve slid up behind you, and helped you 
lift heavy sacks, or pushed you up on top of the 
bagging machine; what the hell did you think that hard 
lump was that I was pressing into your bum with?"

As I’d said, all of them had shown me how to sort that 
machine, and they’d all done as he’d just described. 
But in my innocence, I’d never been aroused by this, or 
more to the point, never once felt threatened. But to 
now hear him telling me, not in so many words, but 
intimating, he wanted to fuck me. I just coloured up 
bright red.

"I’m sorry; you must think me so stupid. But now you’ve 
said it; that means all of you think the same about me, 
even Eric and Carl?" These are the names of the two 
hired hands.

"Well I’ve never asked them, but anyone who’s had the 
opportunity to press themselves up against that little 
bottom of yours, and hasn’t got hard, has to be queer."

"I feel so silly now, I never, well yes I did know you 
were hard, and I knew what that meant, but I never 
really thought. Oh god, it’s started again."

I pulled one of my hands from his, and put it down on 
my tummy.

"What? Thinking about me rubbing my cock up against 
your bottom is getting you turned on?"

Now his hand joined mine, cupping itself around my 
tummy, and pressing down towards my bush. I felt my 
cheeks burning as I blushed even more.

"Please don’t."

"But it is me that’s getting you worked up?"

"Yes, but please don’t."

He pulled his hand away, and slipped it into his 
trouser waist, and then he re-adjusted the position of 
his cock. And although still safely inside his 
trousers, there was now a large bulge showing he was 
ready for action. This didn’t scare me, or put me off; 
it just fuelled my ensuing arousal.

By now, my tummy was getting quite well and truly 
agitated; I could feel a tension in the air.

Then as his hand came from his trousers, it gently 
cupped under my left breast.

"Please Mr Holmes, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Does it feel good?"

"Oh god yes, it feels wonderful. Rape me! Please Mr 
Holmes. Rape me!"

"Rape you? I’d never do that."

"Please, I feel so dirty. Don’t make me have to beg you 
to fuck me. Please just take me, no matter how much I 
struggle or fight you. I’m begging you, Rape me now."

He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes, told me the 
fish was now securely hooked. He got to his feet, bent 
down directly in front of me, pushing his head past my 
waist, and his shoulder into my tummy. Then with his 
big strong arms wrapped around me, his hands slid under 
my bottom, and as he stood back upright he had me over 
his shoulder in a ‘fireman’s lift’.

Out he strode, and we were soon going up the stairs two 
at a time. I beat my fists on his back, and kicked and 
wriggled.

"Put me down you monster. Let me down."

I struggled and fought like it was really happening to 
me. But like the men this morning, either he realized I 
was just role-playing, or he was too far gone to care. 
Either way, he easily had me restrained with just one 
of his hands holding me around the top of my left leg.

This meant his other hand was free to roam. And roam it 
did, stroking up the inside of my right leg, and 
pulling at the gusset of my now respectable cotton 
knickers. He might have been acting, but by the time he 
tipped me off his shoulder onto his double bed, he’d 
already had his fingers up my pussy. And as I fell 
backwards onto his bed, his grip around the gusset 
pulled my knickers down my legs. This wasn’t done 
smoothly or carefully, I was actually thrown from his 
shoulder, and as I flew through the air towards the 
soft landing on his mattress, he snatched the knickers 
back, pulling them down my legs. This not only ripped 
them, but they also caught and pulled off part of the 
fresh scabs that had formed on the injuries to the 
inside of my legs, causing the blood to start to run.

Well if I’d thought this might make him be more 
careful, I needed to think again. I’d told him to rape 
me, and this was what he was now doing. So as my hands 
went down to the area where the blood was now trickling 
from, he just took hold of the waist band of my skirt, 
and gave a sharp tug. The hooks and eyes that held this 
wraparound skirt in place just ripped from the thin 
material. And as the skirt unwrapped, it spun me around 
pulling my hands from in between my legs, and slipping 
from under me, leaving me face down on his bed.

I didn’t have time to react with movement or even any 
kind of protest, real or acting, before he was on the 
bed behind me. He pulled my blouse from either side, 
and it just pealed off, with buttons popping as it tore 
apart. Then from the back he released my bra, and one 
swift turn of my shoulders, saw me once again on my 
back, but now naked.

He was on his knees above me, and now he slowly began 
to pull his shirt over his head. At this point I tried 
a wriggle, to see if I could work myself free, but his 
knees just closed, squeezing me either side of my 
torso. 

"Let me get up you bastard!"

As he threw his shirt to one side to reveal his ape-
like hairy chest, he lashed out at my face with his 
open palm.

The bedroom echoed to the sound of the loud.

"CRACK!"

As his hand reached my cheek. But to my surprise, there 
was no stinging, he’d used the old trick a dad plays on 
a young son, lashed out but intercepted his own slap 
with his other hand slid gently across my face. There 
was no doubt in my mind when I saw the blow coming that 
it was going to hurt, and I had begun to believe he was 
doing this for real. I think for a split second I was 
in a weird way disappointed to know this was still 
acting.

But then I just let out a scream. As if the blow had 
been real.

"Shut your mouth you bitch, or you’ll get more of the 
same."

I sniffed as if holding back the tears, as he stood up 
to remove his trousers.

I began to try to make good an escape, but he leant 
forwards, the task of removing his trousers abandoned 
as he held his right hand above my face in a 
threatening manner.

"Don’t you move until I tell you."

I froze, as if this was a real threat.

He slowly unbuckled his belt, and then undid the 
buttons one by one, with no sense of urgency. I lay 
there motionless, well externally anyway, inside my 
tummy was quivering with desire, whilst my pussy 
throbbed with anticipation. Then as his last button was 
released, he dropped his trousers and pants in one, and 
stepped out of them, to reveal a cock the equal or 
maybe bigger than either of his sons. He didn’t stand 
there showing himself off, but no sooner had he stepped 
from his trousers, than he'd dropped to his knees on 
the bed.

Then as he took hold of my ankles, and lifted my legs 
up and wide, he said, "Hold them high."

I didn’t make a sound, but I obeyed instantly, as the 
difference between role-play and reality became a total 
blur.

"Now my little bitch, daddy’s gonna show you what that 
little pussy and bottom are really made for."

As he pushed his monster cock into my pussy, I couldn’t 
hold back my eagerness, and I lifted myself up to meet 
his thrust. My pussy was wet and wanted to take as much 
of his mighty cock as it could handle. As with his 
sons, I could feel my pussy stretching as it opened up 
my love tunnel. But unlike his sons, he just pushed 
slowly, and it kind of gave me time to savour the 
pleasure.

His whole fuck was carried out in this manner, no sense 
of urgency, but deliberate forceful thrusting, driving 
his cock deep on every stroke. Then came his cum shots, 
still slow and deliberate, but now kind of erratic and 
jerky. His cock softened, and as it slipped out, he 
slumped his immense body down onto the bed alongside 
me. My first thoughts were, ‘he’s as bad as Michael, 
he’s going to leave me unsatisfied’. Then I thought, 
‘but so far the only time I’ve ever cum is when I’ve 
been fuck by two or more men. I must be a whore’.

Then as my mind was still in a turmoil, I felt his big 
hands on my torso, as he lifted and swung me around in 
the air, dropping me face down on top of himself. He 
was on his back head to the pillows, and I was facing 
down to the foot of the bed. His tongue instantly began 
to lap at the juices coming from, and around my pussy 
and bottom. As soon as I realized we were back in 
business, my hands searched for his cock, and I 
caressed it until it stiffened enough for my mouth to 
take over. This mutual licking sucking and general 
fondling heightened my arousal to the point where I 
thought I would cum into his mouth. But this wily old 
fox knew exactly when to stop, leaving me right on the 
edge.

He again effortlessly lifted me from above himself, and 
spun me around in the air. As I was lowered down, I 
faced the ceiling, and knew my head was now back to the 
pillow end of the bed. I felt his cock slipping back 
and forth along the slippy wet crevice of my bottom. 
Each time the big fat end of his cock passed my hole, I 
felt my bottom open as if it was inviting him to enter. 
He teased me for what appeared to be an age, but was in 
reality probably only half a minute. Then when I was 
beginning to wonder if he was actually going to 
penetrate me or not, he forced me down without warning.

His mighty cock stretched my bottom to limits it had 
never before reached, and the scream I let out was not 
planned, or acting. But as his cock penetrated deep, I 
could feel his warm cum being shot inside me. As my 
orgasm was already cocked and primed, it only needed 
this spark to fire it into action. So as my pussy 
pulsed violently, spraying it’s cum in all directions, 
his cock delivered bolt after bolt of warm cum up my 
bottom. But even though he’d now finished his delivery, 
my orgasm was still in full swing. He held me on top of 
himself, his hands encircling my waist, until I’d 
eventually returned to a normal state.

He now turned me over, and lifted me up his body so my 
face was level with his.

"Well my dear, I hope that was satisfactory?"

"Oh Mr Holmes, you were wonderful. Oh god, how I wish 
my Michael could love me like that."

"You never know my dear, me’be one day he’ll get the 
idea. But until he does, I think our Peter’s advice is 
about your best option. And I don’t think it’ll make 
any difference which one of us is available."

"You mean I should do this with you or one of your sons 
every time my Michael leaves me, you know, wanting?"

"I know it’s not me’be what you want to do, but think 
of the alternative. At least with us, we all love you, 
and we’d never tell anyone. And who knows, me’be in 
time your Michael will realize he needs to satisfy your 
needs as well."

"Oh god, I do hope so."

Then as I lay in his arms, he gave me a big strong 
cuddle and said, "Come-on then my little beauty, have 
you had enough, or do you want me to give that little 
fanny another seeing-to?"

For some silly reason, I blushed as I replied, "No. I 
think you’ve cured me for today. It’s about time I went 
out to the shop and did some work."

"Well if you’ve had enough, I think it’s too late to 
worry about the shop, but I could eat a horse, and I 
bet you’re starving as well. So how about you fix us up 
with a bite to eat? You’ll find plenty of eggs and 
bacon in the pantry."

So some fifteen to twenty minutes later, cleaned down 
again, and this time dressed in a dress that used to 
belong to Mr Holmes’s wife, here I am in the kitchen 
cooking us both a meal. It’s now the middle of the 
afternoon, and as we sit down at the kitchen table, he 
looks across and our eyes lock-on to each other’s.

"You’re a right bonny lass."

I just blushed.

"And you can rustle up a cracking bit of snap (Food)."

"Go on with you and your silly flirting, anyone can do 
a fry-up."

"But there’s not many a lass can fuck like you, least 
ways, spraying your cum like you do."

I again didn’t answer, but felt the heat burning not 
only my cheeks, but now my whole neck was aflame.

"I’m telling you, that Michael of yours is one lucky 
man. If he don’t appreciate what he’s got, then I know 
I’m too old for you to hitch up to, but either one of 
my lads ud wed you without thinking twice."

"Please Mr Holmes. I love my Michael. Don’t talk like 
this."

"Ok, but think-on lass, you can’t go through life 
wanting. Some times it’s better to just admit you 
caught the wrong bus, get off, and then hop on the 
right one. At least that way, you’ll get to somewhere 
you want to be."

"Please don’t."

"Ok, I’ve said my piece."

"When I’ve washed up, I’ll get out to the shop to see 
if I can give Mrs Miller a hand."

"No lass, she’ll only wonder about why you’ve changed 
your clothes. You’d best get off home, and sort 
yourself out proper before your Michael gets home."

"Are you sure, it’s not my finishing time yet?"

"Well I guess by rights, you ain’t even started today, 
but I can’t see as that matters much. No lass, you get 
yourself back home, and we’ll see you in the morning. 
And if you need to ask for any kind of help, don’t be 
shy. You know what I’m a talking about."

I blushed again as I replied, "I will. And thank you. 
I’ll get off now then, see you tomorrow."

I arrived home before Michael, and so was able to get 
myself changed and looking respectable before he saw 
me. I’d already prepared his evening meal, and it was 
ready for him as he came in, I thought maybe this might 
make-up for me being late yesterday. While we sat 
eating our meal, Michael said, "Oh, about that event 
they’re organising for this weekend, it looks like the 
bishop is trying a kind of blackmail."

"Blackmail? How has the bishop found out about what I 
did last weekend?"

"No dear, nothing to do with last weekend."

"Well what do you mean blackmail?"

"He hasn’t put it into so many words, but he was saying 
things like. ‘There’s no point in thinking about taking 
an overseas assignment if your wife isn’t totally 
dedicated to supporting everything you get involved 
in’."

"But Michael that isn’t fair, you know I’d support 
anything you do."

"I know that my darling, and I can understand why you 
don’t want to see them men again. But I can hardly 
explain that to the bishop, and you know how much being 
given and overseas assignment means to me."

"Oh Michael, isn’t there any other way?"

"If there was, I wouldn’t have asked you to do this for 
me."

"Ok, tell your bloody bishop..."

"Shirley! There’s no need for that language."

"Well! What do you expect? Just tell him I’ll be there, 
but don’t expect me to talk to those men."

"Thank you darling. I’ll do my best to keep them at a 
distance from you."

The evening went by in a boring manner, doing 
housework, and watching a little TV, but as I’d 
expected, by just gone nine thirty, Michael was asking 
if I was ready for bed. I stalled him until ten 
o’clock, but by fifteen minutes past ten, I was 
alongside the bed asking Michael.

"Do you want me to take my nightdress off?"

"It’s up to you; take it off if it feels more 
comfortable for you."

"I don’t mind either way, so I guess if you don’t want 
me naked, I’ll leave it on."

"For god’s sake Shirley, we are married; it didn’t 
appear to bother you too much when those animals told 
you to get naked."

"Look Michael, that wasn’t my fault. What happened this 
weekend was none of my doing. And like you said, we are 
married, so if you want to see my body, I’m sure you’re 
not committing any kind of sin."

With that I removed my nightdress, and walked to the 
wardrobe, taking my time, knowing Michael was watching 
my every step. This time I didn’t attempt to pull the 
covers off him, even if I’d wanted to, I could see his 
little hands were gripping the other end tightly. I 
just walked slowly back to the bed and slipped in 
alongside him, sliding my arm across his chest, and 
caressing his neck.

"Shirley, what did you really think about when those 
men were doing what they did to you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can't understand how you could get so excited and 
aroused, you didn’t even know them?"

"I don’t know. But be honest, you get aroused by other 
women?"

"Never. I’ve never so much as looked at another woman."

"I don’t mean real women, not ones that you’ve met."

"What then?"

"That film."

"What film?"

"Look Michael, I don’t mind. I guess it must be 
natural, something we have no control over."

"Don’t be so silly, that is what separates us from the 
animals in this world, we have morals, and make our own 
decisions."

"But you got aroused watching that film, are you 
telling me you wanted to?"

"I don’t even know what film you’re talking about."

"Michael, remember god is listening to your every word. 
You remember turning the TV off when the film showed a 
girl getting raped, and she was about to by a lot more 
men?"

"Yes, but that was months ago, it was disgusting."

"That might be true, but as soon as you got me into bed 
that night, you were already aroused, and you couldn’t 
wait to have sex with me."

"I can't remember."

"Michael! Don’t tell lies. Watching that girl being 
raped got you aroused."

"So what if it did?"

"Does that make you an animal?"

"No, of course not."

"Or are you saying you approved of her being raped, and 
you wanted to get aroused?"

"No."

"Its like I said, it must be natural, something we have 
no control over."

"But Shirley, we have to try to rise above such 
things."

"But if we can’t; that doesn’t make us wicked."

"But it shows a weakness."

"And when you got aroused, watching those men abusing 
me? Aroused enough for them to..."

He butted in not wanting me to finish what I was 
saying, "Don’t Shirley. That’s not fair."

"Why isn’t it, they were forcing me to have sex with 
them, and you got aroused! Your own wife; and your cock 
got hard watching those men as they mauled me all over 
my body."

"Please Shirley, I I..."

"I know. You couldn’t help it. Well that’s how I felt, 
I didn’t want them to get me aroused, but they did. And 
I don’t think that makes me an animal!"

"Oh Shirley, I’m sorry. I don’t know any more."

"Maybe you don’t," and as I spoke I wrapped my hand 
around his rock hard cock, "but I know one thing. Since 
the weekend, this cock of yours has been active every 
night. And talking about those men abusing me has only 
got it more excited."

"Shirley, please don’t use foul language, it doesn’t 
sound proper coming from your lips."

"Foul language? Which word have I used that you’d call 
foul language?"

"Shirley please. You know what you just said."

"What? Men abusing me."

"No, you were talking about my, you know."

"So that’s it. Men abusing your wife is not foul or 
disgusting. But a wife talking about her own husbands 
cock offends your ears? Well if that’s how much you 
think of me, I’ll go and sleep in the spare room."

With that I let go of his cock, and began to slide out 
of the bed.

"Shirley no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. 
Please come back."

He had reached out and taken hold of my arm, and was 
gently trying to pull me back to the bed. I resisted 
his pulling, but didn’t leave the bed; I just sat there 
naked on the side of the bed. He had pulled himself up 
onto his elbows, and still had hold of my arm.

"Come back please. I never meant to upset you."

"If I come back, then you have to listen to what I’m 
going to say without interrupting me. When I’ve 
finished, if you don’t like what I’ve said, then I 
think its time we slept in separate rooms."

"Shirley no. Don’t be silly, you’re my wife."

"That’s right Michael, your wife not a slave or servant 
or your dog. I have feelings. I have opinions. I have 
rights."

"Oh dear god, why are you behaving like this?"

"Because I want you to love me, not use me like those 
men did."

"Shirley no, don’t say things like that about me."

"Well are you going to hear what I’ve got to say, or 
shall I leave your room?"

"Please Shirley, get back into bed. You know it's OUR 
room. And of course, I want to hear what you have to 
say."

"Ok, but no tut’ing or silly remarks about my language. 
I’m going to use the words normal people use; I want 
you to know what I mean without silly euphemisms 
getting in the way, and you getting the wrong end of 
the stick."

"Come back and lay beside me, I’ll listen to you, and I 
promise to do what ever you ask of me."

As I began to slide back in alongside him.

"Don’t make promises before you hear what I’ve got to 
say."

"Come-on darling, if I’ve upset you, just tell me what 
I’ve done?"

"Ok, before this weekend, I never had and orgasm."

"Bu..."

"Ah. No interruptions. I never planned for those men to 
do what they did, and if it hadn’t been for where I got 
hurt, they would never have got their grubby hands 
anywhere near my pussy or my tits."

I could see his face cringing at hearing me uttering 
those words.

And if they hadn’t got their hands on me, I’d still 
have no idea what an orgasm is or what it felt like. 
But you have your orgasm, and deny it if you like, but 
at least once, you have been thinking of someone other 
than me when you’ve cum."

"Well maybe they are right when they say ‘god moves in 
mysterious ways’. Because god put us up on that 
hillside, he brought about that storm, he aloud you to 
fall, he brought those men to that place, and he 
determined that I should slip on that gate. So it’s my 
guess he sent those men to show us both that our bodies 
can give more pleasure than we had realized. So now 
those men are gone from our lives, he must be expecting 
you to take my body to the heights of pleasure those 
men showed me was possible, and not to just satisfy 
your own lust, and then turn over and go to sleep."

He looked stunned, and lost for words, "Well that’s it, 
that was all I wanted to say. Do you want to fuck me? 
Or shall I go to the spare room?"

He still looked dazed, and I began to ease myself out 
of the bed. Suddenly his hand grabbed my arm.

"No. please don’t go. Come back, I’ll do as you want."

"Will you?"

"Yes. Please come back."

I slid back in alongside him, and began to work my head 
under the quilt.

"What are you..."

Before he’d finished, I’d popped my head out and with 
my face almost touching his. I interrupted his obvious 
question.

"I’m going to suck your cock, and you’re going to lick 
my pussy."

Then without waiting for an answer, I went back under 
the quilt. As it was he didn’t answer, and I soon had 
my legs astride his shoulders. As I took his rock hard 
cock into my mouth, I lowered my pussy to his face. He 
started very reluctantly, but as I got to work on his 
cock, he gradually began to work my pussy. It wasn’t an 
overwhelming success, the pussy licking that is, but at 
least, with me sucking his first load of cum, it not 
only got me well on my way, but ensured that when I let 
him mount me, he’d take that bit longer to cum his 
second load. And yes he did manage to give me an 
orgasm, the first one he’d given me. And this time, as 
he rolled over I cuddled up to him, still dripping cum. 
And lying in all that sticky wet slime, we both drifted 
off to sleep.

The mess in the morning was gross, but knowing we’d 
made love properly for the first time was just like 
heaven. As usual, I got ready, and set off for work, 
leaving him still in bed. But I think maybe that is 
enough for now. There is still more to tell, and 
although that bloody video is no longer able to be used 
to blackmail me, the ‘new me’ awakened by those men, 
appears to be vulnerable to the briefest stimulation. 
But I’ll tell you more in the next part of my story. 
That is, of course, providing you don’t think the story 
is getting stale?

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

It is only the feedback from readers that makes the 
effort of writing worthwhile, and I will answer all 
mail received (providing it isn’t sent anonymously). 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. Once again, thanks for 
reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.

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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 42