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Jolly1
09-19-2005, 10:22 AM
I did not write this story, but found it on the net----All credit to Lord John Thomas


Contributed by Lord John Thomas
Sunday, 18 September 2005
This story tells of how the only way for a young married woman to fit into the local community involved following some kind of ancient ritual of capitulation to the neighbouring farm owner.


The Kings of the Valley


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


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


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


We lived in a large house in the midlands countryside, and Jim ran his own engineering business from a workshop on our own land. I worked as a school teacher at a local village school, and was very active in the local church, reading the lesson, singing in the choir and organizing fundraising events.
By 1968 we were well established in the local community, and Jim’s business was doing well. We decided to buy a holiday home, it had to be near the seaside, but not commercialized. We found our dream home in a North Wales Valley near the coast. We were stretching our financial position to the limit, but after seeing this five bedroom cottage nestled into the welsh hillside, we were both smitten.


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


Our house was situated on a lane that led from Mill-Farm (Pandy in welsh) to one of Mill-Farm’s stock yards and shearing barns, therefore it was a common sight to see the old farmer Mr Jones or one of his two sons walking past our gates either going to or from their barn. The old man was always surly, and rarely smiled or even replied when you said hello to him. The two boys were both about the same age as me. One called Morris who was pleasant, but would never stop to past the time of day. The other was Bryan, who was surly like the old man, but you would often find him stood motionless staring with a look like he was undressing you, he made my flesh creep.


One day in June, I can remember sitting in the orchard looking up the hill and seeing old Mr Jones standing on top of a stone platform about fifty yards up the hill, he was waving. As I studied him I could make out he was standing sideways to me, holding his penis and having a pee. I thought how disgusting doing that in public, and especially attracting attention to himself. I turned away, and ignored him, when some time later Jim came out I told him what I’d seen. Jim asked where Mr Jones had been standing, and when I explained, he said, “But that’s our water tank!” Our water came direct from the filter beds on the hill, to a stone tank and then it was piped to the house. As soon as Jim told me that was our water, I realized what that funny taste was in our water. I’d been thinking for several weeks now, that the water didn’t taste quite right, and had put it down to the lack of rain. I immediately felt sick, but at that very moment Mr Jones came walking nonchalantly past, and waved a friendly hello.



I sprung to my feet and raced to the orchard fence, “What do you think you were doing up there?” I shouted.
“Same as I’ve bin doing for the last six weeks. We’ve got'a keep that tank topped up for you,” he replied, as he walked passed and went on his way not stopping. I looked at Jim, but he said that there was no point in arguing, we must go and report this to the police.


At the local police station, we reported what we had seen, and when we explained where we lived, the sergeant said, “That’ll be my Brother Di’s farm that you’re talking about.”
He said he would investigate, but as we left Jim said, “That was a waste of time. We’ll have to write a letter to the chief constable at district headquarters if we want to get anything done.” When we got back to the house we wrote our letter, and it was time to make our way home to the midlands.


On the Thursday we got a reply from the chief constable accusing us of wasting police time, and saying that it was no wonder that there were all these reprisals against English families going on in Wales. If all English people were like us. We took the letter to a solicitor, who explained that we had no tangible evidence. He said our options were limited; we could either sell up and move elsewhere, or try and make peace and be friendly with the locals.
In the summer of 1968 there were holiday homes belonging to English people being burned to the ground, and hence house prices had plummeted since we got our mortgage on ours. If we had to sell now we would lose that much that we wouldn’t be able to pay off the mortgage, so selling wasn’t an option. We discussed trying to make friends with the Joneses, and tried to think if we had inadvertently offended them, but we couldn’t think of anything.


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


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


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


He left for the harbour, and I sat in the orchard and cried.
“What’s wrong Mrs King?” said Morris leaning over the orchard fence.
“You and your family, that’s what’s wrong,” I snapped.
“But all my Da wants is to make friends.”
“He’s got a funny way of showing it.” I was still sobbing.
“Well you and Mr King haven’t attempted to show your respect to my Da. Have you?”
“Respect? What do you mean?”
“Can I come over there and tell you what you did to upset him?”
“Yes. Come on in, there’s no point in shouting from that distance.” He didn’t walk down to the gate; he just straddled the fence and walked over to where I was sitting on a bench.
“Can I sit down?”
“Yes. Now tell me what we can have done to annoy your dad that much?”


“Well you see that house of yours has a long history, and every owner for the last hundred or more years since the house was built, has had to follow an ancient ritual of capitulation to the master of Mill-Farm. Otherwise the farm has bad luck. And since you moved in we’ve lost lambs, had stillborn calves and now the mill stream looks as if it’s going dry and that’ll leave us with no water for the cattle. You see you haven’t abided by local traditions, and Da thinks we're now cursed.”
“Surely nobody believes in that kind of superstition these days?”
“There you see. You’re not listening. We have to believe cos it’s happening to us now.”


“What can I do to put thinks right?”
“Normally you’d just visit Da and go through a ritual. Saying lines like in a play, and Da replying. But I think Da’s pretty annoyed with you both, so I recon taking a jar of that fruit preserve of yours might bring him round.”
“Is that all I have to do? Give him a jar of preserves? He can have the larder full if it’ll end this feud.”


“No, the preserves are just a sweetener. It’s the ritual that’s important. You need to show respect in a traditional way and Mr King has to do the same with my Ma down the farm house. You have to learn the words, and say them exactly as they were said by the first lady that lived at the house, sitting on an old fashioned milking stool.”
“How will I know the words? What milking stool? Where and when do I say them?”
“I can tell you the words. You write them down and memorise them. It’s the same for Mr King. As for the milking stool, it’s an old antique up at the shearing barn. And that's the place where you should meet Da.”


“I’ll go and get a sheet of paper and a pen. You wait there.” I returned with my paper and he explained word for word what I had to say, we then did the same for Jim.
I asked when I should see his dad and he said as soon as possible, and he’d be up at the barn this afternoon. Morris left and I awaited Jim’s return, when he arrived I explained everything that Morris had said.


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


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


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


I gave him a kiss and with a, “Well here goes,” I turned and left the house. Jim followed, and as I turned up the track towards the barn, he went the opposite way towards the farm house.
“Good luck,” I heard him say.
I didn’t turn around; instead I put all my concentration into walking up the steep uneven path. The dress going right down to my ankles was so tight that I could only take very small strides. This characteristic Chinese’s shuffle might look good on a smooth flat dance floor; on the farm track it made progress almost impossible. The dress was definitely the wrong choice, in hind sight I should have turned and gone back to the house to change.


I didn’t, and as I reached the bend in the track I came into sight of Morris, he beckoned and called for me to hurry. He was shouting something about the sheep being brought down off the hill into the yard. Although I wasn’t making much progress, I was already hurrying, Morris obviously thought I wasn’t getting there quick enough, and he climbed over the gate and came running to meet me. When he arrived, he held out his hand to try to help me make faster progress, I didn’t take his hand, as the large stone jar of preserves was difficult enough to carry with both hands.
He was getting impatient and repeated, “Come on we must get you through the gates before the sheep arrive, once they're in the yard we won’t be able to open the gates, and you’ll have to climb over.”


The thought of climbing over a rusty steel gate that was as tall as me was not something that I could imagine possible, and filled me with trepidation. I put even more effort into my shuffle and inevitably tripped, and would have fallen to the floor if Morris hadn’t caught me. “Be careful Mrs King,” he said, as he returned me to the upright position, his left hand cupped under my jar of preserves which I was holding to my chest, his right hand around my waist.
I had scarcely a second to catch my breath, before, “Come on please hurry, I’ll help you,” he said as he urged me forward with his arm tightly around my waist, and his left hand still helping me to support the weight of the jar. In normal circumstances I couldn’t imagine me allowing such close contact, but in this bizarre situation, his strong supporting arm around my waist somehow gave me the confidence to attempt to almost run.


As we neared the gate he let me go and ran to open it, “come on through quickly, we’ve still got to get across the yard to the second gate.” My heart sank; as I herd him shut the gate behind me I could see the sheep running down the yard towards us. He once again put his arm round my waist, but we only made a couple of yards, before the sheep were all around us.
We still tried to move but I was terrified, and almost immediately, “oh my god I’ve lost one of my shoes,” I cried.
“Come on, I’ll carry you,” Morris said, as he put his left hand under the back of my knees, and swept me off my feet. Once again under normal circumstances I would have struggled and protested, but, instead, I clenched the fruit jar tightly to my chest with my right arm, and put my left arm around his neck to give me support.


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


We arrived at the second gate! He turned me around to face the gate and gently placed my feet on one of the crossbars about two feet off the floor. He then supported my waist with both hands so that I could take my arm from around his neck and hold on the gate with one hand, still clutching those dam preserves to my chest with my other arm. The sheep were chewing and licking my feet and ankles, and the rusty steel was digging painfully into the foot without a shoe. I looked back to where Morris was still searching for the missing shoe, and after what seemed an age, he eventually stood up with a big smile on his face, holding the shoe aloft, he yelled like an excited school boy.
“I’ve found it Mrs King.”


I managed a smile and for a split second, “oh good,” I shouted, not that he could hear with the noise of the sheep. Then as Morris rushed towards me with the shoe I thought ‘what am I smiling for’, there’s still this gate to get over. He arrived, and dutifully stroked the sole of my foot before placing the sandal in place, and returning my foot to the gate rail.
Then as he stood alongside me he asked, “How are we going to get you over then?” There was obviously no way I could step from one rail of the gate to the next with this tight dress. Even if I could persuade him to take me back to the first gate so I could go back to the house and get changed, we would still have to get over that gate.


“The only way is for you to open the gate, I can't possibly get over it,” I said. “If I do that we’ll have sheep all over the yard, and Da would kill me,” he said with a genuine look of fear, “I’m sorry but we’ll have to get you over the gate one way or another.”
“If I lift you by the waist I won’t get you high enough. The only other way would be if I put my hand up the inside of your leg and hold your knee, maybe our Bryan could climb across and do the same to the other knee?” I could almost have accepted trusting Morris to keep his mind on lifting me in that way, but the thought of Bryan (who always undressed you with his eyes every time he saw you) putting his hand up my inside leg was almost sure to have ended up with his hand wrapped around my crotch, I shivered at the thought.
“No, I don’t think so,” I replied.


“Well what are we going to do then? Da’s waiting in the barn; he’s not the most patient of men. The sheep will be here for at least another four hours; you won't be able to perch up there all day in this sun.” I knew he was right, but the only other way was the zip on the side of my dress. This went right from the hem at the bottom of the dress, up to under the arm, so that the dress could be made to hug the figure tightly.
So I tentatively said to Morris, “there’s a zipper at the bottom of my dress, if you’re careful you can unzip my dress, up to my knees, and then I might be able to climb the gate if you can steady me.”


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


Morris had big hands and big fat fingers like pork sausages, and as he fumbled with the zipper, it undid about six inches before sticking. “Don’t force it,” I shrieked, “pull it down gently and start again.” He did as instructed, but his gentle was not gentle enough for the zip. “Oh! I’m sorry,” he said as he stood up with the zip runner in his hand, “now how will we get it unzipped?”
Before I could reply, his brother Bryan, who was standing in front of me at the other side of the gate, bent down and peeled me open to the thigh!


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


“Are you alright?” Morris said. “I’m just going to lift the other foot now.” My dress swung back slightly, but still left the outside of my leg exposed.
“Next step,” said Morris, as my foot went up one more rail, but this time my foot was not placed directly above where it had came from, but somewhat carelessly at least a foot to the right, I was now (with the difference in height of the rails, and this extra foot), quite well spread open. My dress hung across to my left hand side, uncovering my crotch completely, which was obvious from Bryan’s leering look, he was almost dribbling. At this point I noticed three men appearing from the barn and sauntering their way over towards us, presumably to get a better look. They formed a small semi-circle the other side of the gate and didn’t hide the fact that they were all admiring my crotch.


“They’s real fancy knickers she’s wearing,” said one.
“I bet it’s a real tasty cunt inside them,” said another.
“Hey watch your mouths,” said Morris, “that’s no way to talk in front of a lady.”
“No offence Morris,” the first man said, “but I can’t wait to get stuck into that pussy.”
I was still standing there on show, when I felt Morris helping the other leg to the next rail bringing my feet level and my dress gave a little more cover. I was now two rails from the top, my balance was very unsteady, as I waited for Morris to move my foot up once more. He was climbing up the gate alongside me, holding onto the top of the gate using his chest to support me and stop me falling.


“We’ll need to get your leg right over the gate this time, cos you won’t be able to balance on the next rail.”
As he was speaking I noticed Bryan bending down and rubbing his fingers through a fresh fly covered cow pat (cow shit) on the floor, I was fascinated watching him swirl his hand slowly through the air with a swarm of flies in hot pursuit. My concentration was broken by Morris using his free hand on my right ankle, and lifting it up past the next rail, higher and higher and I had to lean across and along the gate. As my leg went over the top of the gate Bryan took hold of my ankle, with his wet cow muck hand, and instead of returning my foot down the other side of the gates to one of the rails, it carried on its journey sideways until I was stretched almost too full splits.


“Please don’t,” I cried.
“Don’t worry we ain’t going to do anything, were just looking,” he said.
As I was facing down towards the gate I couldn’t see clearly where everyone was standing, but I knew that they had all gathered in for a close look.
“Jesus them’s the smallest knickers I’ve ever seen,” said one of the men.
“Them’s called panties, not knickers,” said another.


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


Morris brought them all to a halt with a, “Come on you lot, stop mucking about, put her foot down onto the gate.”
They obviously knew that he meant what he said and my foot was brought down on the other side of the gate, but not before Bryan had wiped his muck lined fingers across the exposed lips of my cunt and inner thigh. This had what was obviously the desired effect of attracting its own swarm of flies, they made there presence known, and amused the onlookers. Morris could tell that I was not comfortable, and he rapidly started lifting my other foot up and across the gate, so that I could at least stand upright.


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


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

If he could lift me down that easy, why did I have to struggle and expose myself on the way up?
He had put me down on a relatively clean patch of ground, but the yard was inches deep in cow muck, and the only way I could have walked across would have been bare foot. I was just about to remove my shoes when one of the watching men suggested, “don’t take your shoes off again, me and bill will carry you.”
I said, “No, that’s all right.”
But Morris said, “Yes, it’s about time you pair did something useful.” Without even considering the fact I had said no, I had a man either side of me, with an arm around my back, inside my dress (which was now hanging from my neck like a scarf), and their other hand under my knee. I was carried almost horizontal, jam pot clutched to my chest, legs akimbo, and an attentive swarm of flies you know where.


I was planted on my feet at the door to a shed, on the end of the barn, the door was opened and I was ushered in. It was a small wooden shed about eight feet by six, dimly lit by a single bulb on one side wall. I had tried to pull my dress around myself to look as presentable as possible, and I stood there clutching my jar. Old Mr Jones stood up from the chair at the other side of the room, he looked me up and down, and finally he spoke.
“Looks like you couldn’t be bothered to dress up to come and see me, that dress looks a mess,” he grunted.
“I... I had a little accident with the dress trying to climb the gate,” I stammered meekly.
“That’s as maybe, come and sit, and let’s hear what you have to say,” he replied, pointing to a chair.
The chair was not a usual chair; the seat was only six inches off the floor, the back fixed in a reclining position.


I suddenly remembered what the boys had told me earlier, the phrase, ‘lets here what you have to say’ was my queue to come out with my speech, I was then to wait for his reply, sit down and make my reply. So I plucked up my courage, held out my jar at full arms length with both hands (ignoring the dress floating across to uncover my legs), and with as much conviction as I could muster.
“Good day Mr Jones, I’ve come to introduce myself my name is Margaret. I want to show you my jam pot; I’ll open it wide so you can sample my fruit.”
I waited nervously, he replied. “Your very welcome to my humble shack, I hope you will accept this lowly milking chair to sit yourself down on. Lay back in the traditional manner and we’ll see what you’ve got to offer.”

The boys had explained that this was my queue to sit down, and as with the words, this must also be done correctly. They had explained that I should sit down in a laid back position holding my pot of preserves in front of me. This pose was supposed to have some meaning, and at the time seemed quite innocent, but now leaning back like this was a major ordeal. Morris and Bryan took hold of an elbow apiece and they helped me down into the chair, still clutching my preserves to my chest. Bryan making sure that my dress was pulled completely sideways, so it just draped down my side. They leaned me back, till I made contact with the back of the chair,
“That’ll be more comfortable,” Morris said. I was about to start my reply, when a shake of the head from Morris reminded me that I should wait till Mr Jones had sat down first.


I waited nervously, my hands clenched onto my jar which rested under my bust. The low chair meant my legs were stretched out in front of me and under the facing chair (which was of normal height). This was the chair that Mr Jones had been sitting on when I arrived. He walked back towards his chair, and beckoned to the two boys, his arms where hanging low in front of him, he waved them outwards, without saying a word they knew what he meant. The boys, one either side of me, bent down and took hold of my legs under the knee, they lifted my feet from under the chair, and placed them on a small sack either side of the chair. Mr Jones stepped in between my legs and sat down. This was my next queue, so laid back with my legs spread open, I stretched out my arms pushing my jar of fruit towards Mr Jones, smiled and said, “if you like what you see, don’t wait to be asked, just help yourself. You can share it with your friends there’s plenty for all.”



Well I thought, they would soon be digging into the preserved raspberries and I would soon be on my way home. In hind sight, I now realize just how naive that was.
“They tell me you bottle all your own fruit?” He said.
“Yes, that’s what I’ve brought for you.”
“Do you expect me to eat any of that old jar of preserves?”
Suddenly I was frightened again (this man could send shivers down your spine with just a look), “That… that’s what I thought you wanted, I bottled that jar myself.”
“But me and my boys have been pissing in your water tank, and you expect me to taste my own piss.”
“I… I never thought of that,” I stammered.
“That’s only fit for the dogs,” he said as he wrenched the jar from my hands and pulled off the paper wrapper, “let the dogs in Morris,” he said.


Within seconds, the door was open, and there were three excited dogs jumping around licking his raspberry covered fingers. As Morris knelt down alongside me again,
Mr Jones said, “Come on boys, let the dogs see the rabbit,” the boys quickly took hold of my wrists, and lifted my legs wide. The door was still open; with the sunlight making sure that not only the dogs could see! Mr Jones smeared jam all over the top of my legs and the crotch of my panties. The boys turned me slightly to give all three dogs access, they were licking furiously. I protested loudly, but nobody took any notice. My legs were soon clean, and one of the dogs had managed to edge my panties slightly over to one side. I could feel his tongue licking from the hole of my arse across my cunt, deep into my slot and up across my clit. There was nothing I could do to stop him, but more embarrassing was that I could not stop myself from lifting with each stroke of his tongue.


Old Mr Jones turned to call to the men from the yard, who by now, were standing in the open doorway watching the show.
“Come and get these two dogs out of the way, and let Patch have a clear go at her.”
Without any hesitation two of the men ran in and grabbed a dog apiece, and dragged them out. Patch (as I now realized was the dogs name), was licking away furiously, and my cunt was responding to every stroke, no matter how much I tried to stop it. He suddenly decided that licking wasn’t enough, and started to try to mount.
“Hey! Stop that, patch.” Shouted Mr Jones very loudly.
The dog backed off instantly, and cowered with fear at the sharp sound of his master’s voice.
“Get him out of here,” he shouted to one of the men, who were still watching at the door. The dog was removed, and the boys turned me back to face directly towards Mr Jones, still holding my legs open and my hands out of the way.


Turning to the men in the doorway, Mr Jones shouted, “ain’t you lot got some work to do, Mrs king don’t need you lot leering at her,” then turning to face me, he gently said, “does that feel better, they’ve got rid of that nasty cow shit from the top of your legs?” As if he’d done me a favour letting the dogs lick me.
Looking up at Morris he said, “Let go of her hands now boys, so that she can straighten up them pretty panties.” My hands were released, but they made sure my legs remained spread. They leaned me forward, so that I could see what I was doing. The sunlight did indeed give a shaft of light in the right direction, as if the chair had been placed there with that in mind. I was now looking at the same view that the rest of them had been concentrating on for the last ten minutes. What a view!


I have already said how narrow the gusset of my panties were, but they were now rolled into a crevice at one side of the top of my thigh. My cunt was fully exposed; it glistened, as the juices from inside, slowly dribbled out and down to my arse. I quickly got my fingers to work straightening, and trying to stretch the gusset, to cover up as much flesh as possible. When this was done I left my hands in a cupped position in between my legs to keep out the prying eyes.
Looking back at me Mr Jones repeated loudly, “I said. Does that feel better, now that they’ve got rid of that nasty cow shit from the top of your legs?”
“Yes, I think so,” I meekly replied. “Please can I close my legs now?”
“I think if you look again, you’ll find that you haven’t got all the muck off yet,” he said, pulling a grubby looking hanky out of his pocket. “Morris, go and wet this.”


Morris dutifully took the hanky and went out of the door, soon to return with the hanky dripping with water. He handed it to me; I took the hanky, and had to use both hands to wring out the surplus water.
Mr Jones leant forward, and with his finger only inches away from my cunt, he pointed to a thin black line of muck at the top of my thigh, that had been covered by the rolled up gusset of my panties,
“There, I knew the dogs had missed some by the number of flies still buzzing around.”
I wiped away the line of muck, and then continued along the top of both my inner thighs, the cold water felt good, and such a relief from those dam flies. As I stopped, and handed back his hanky, he lightly took both my hands, lifted them up, so as to get a good view.

He said, “There, that looks much cooler now, but there still seems to be something on your panties that interests those flies.”
He was right; there was a small cluster of flies on the centre of the gusset, attracted by the juice that had dribbled out of my cunt. He gently brushed them away with the backs of his fingers lightly brushing my crotch.
This sent a cold shiver straight up my back that made him ask, “What’s up, are you cold love?”
“No, I just don’t like being touched down there.”
“Well that’s not very friendly to me, you seemed to enjoy every minute that Patch was licking you.”
“That’s not fair, you were holding me, and there was nothing that I could do.”
“That’s as maybe, but you were still enjoying his attention.”


I could feel that I was blushing, “please, can I close my legs now?”
“You’ve not really introduced yourself to us properly yet, and there's lots about you I want to know. Let’s compromise. Morris shut the door.”
It went dark again, “There, now the light gone you lay back again and just rest your arms behind your neck, while we talk.”
“I would still prefer it if I could close my legs.”
“Be a good girl and don’t get me angry, you said you’d come to show me your fruit.”
I lay back as instructed, the boys making sure I was wide open.
“They tell me you’re a church girl and a school teacher as well,” he said.
“Yes, that right,” I said.
“Well now we can have a little talk and you can tell me all about yourself,” he said.


There was only a dim light bulb, on the wall behind me so I knew that he wouldn’t be able to see much (especially compared with what he had already seen). Just then the door swung open letting in a shaft of bright sunlight, which was almost blinding me, but illuminating my crotch to perfection. Although I couldn’t make out by sight who was stood in the doorway, I recognized the voice as one of the men from earlier in the yard.
“Your brother’s here, Di.” he said.
“Well tell him to hurry up and come in, the sunlight is blinding little Margaret here,” said Mr Jones.
A second figure appeared in the doorway, and stood there long enough to get a good look at what I was now displaying, and then he came in shutting the door behind him.


“Hi Di, Hi boys, and is that Mrs King I see sitting there,” he said. With the sunlight now gone, I was back in shadow; the figure was lit by the dim bulb. As my eyes regained there focus I recognized the police sergeant that we had been reporting all our problems to, Mr Joneses brother.
“It surely is, she’s come to offer her jam pot,” said farmer Jones. “Well, as I’m here on official business Di, I would prefer it if Mrs King could talk to me alone,” said Sergeant Jones.
Farmer Jones grunted in disapproval, but he got up, and beckoned to the boys, “come on lads.” Sergeant Jones sat down in the chair, the door opened, the shaft of sunlight returned, and they seemed to take for ever before the door was shut eventually again. The sergeant had had plenty of time, now sitting quite close to look at my display.

“Now Mrs King. Did you come up to see Di of your own accord, without anyone forcing you?”
“Yes, I came to try and make peace.”
“What did you say to Di when you arrived?”
I now felt quite foolish, having to repeat the silly phrase.
“I quoted an old traditional phrase that the boys had taught me.”
“How’s that go then?”
“Good day Mr Jones, I’ve come to introduce myself my name is Margaret. I want to show you my jam pot; I’ll open it wide so you can sample my fruit.”
“And were you sitting there like that when you said this to him?”
“No, I didn’t sit down until I was ready to quote a second phrase.”
“Well before you tell me what you said next, what was Di’s reply to your first offer?”
“He said something like, I was very welcome, and would I sit in this milking chair in the traditional way and show them what I’d got to offer.”

“Right, and then you sat down like you are now, leaning back, legs spread wide open, jam pot on show, and said what?”
I know I was slow on the up take, but I started to realize that the jam pot was not the preserves. I couldn’t bring myself to repeat the words.
“Now Mrs King this is an official inquiry, so I’ll repeat, what did you say next?”
“Well it was just what the boys told me to say.”
“Please Mrs Jones just tell me what answer you gave to Di when he asked you to show what you’d got to offer.”
“I said, if you like what you see, don’t wait to be asked, just help yourself. You can share it with your friends there’s plenty for all.”


“Right, I think I get the picture, your secret’s safe with me, I wont write this up in my notebook, I guess I’d better let Di come back in and give you a fucking. Looking at the number of flies round your cunt you must be well on heat,” he said as he shone his powerful torch on my crotch.
“No,” I exclaimed, “it’s not like that, I wasn’t offering to let them make love to me.”
“Well if you come to the station tomorrow, reporting you’ve been raped, I’ll have to put it down in evidence, explaining what you were showing and what you offered to them.”
He got up quickly and made for the door.
“No please. Can I go back with you now?”
Before I could get to my feet he’d opened the door, and as he was leaving, he shouted back, “Sorry love I can’t hear you with the noise of all these sheep.”


As he disappeared, before I’d had chance to stand up Mr Jones and his boys came back in, The boys rushed across to take hold of me persuading me to regain my seated position, one boy knelt either side of me and Mr Jones sat on his chair.
Mr Jones spoke, “Well now he’s gone, you can start to introduce yourself; I believe you sing in the choir.”
I was taken aback, was this really just an innocent ritual?
“Yes” I replied, and thinking this was just innocent conversation, I moved my knees together to cover up my crotch.
“Bloody hell woman!” He bald, at the top of his voice, “is there no pleasing you. By rights I should have you in the back of the barn by now, with me and all the lads fucking you silly. Don’t you remember what you said you came up here for?”
His change in mood scared me, so I immediately let my legs fall apart again.
“I... I’m sorry, please don’t shout, lets just sit and talk, I’ll keep my legs where they are,” I said timidly.


“And get those bloody hands by your side, else I’ll get the lads to spread you,” he snapped.
I rapidly moved my hands, and one landed on Bryan’s legs, he grabbed it quickly, and slid it up his inside leg, until it reached a bulge in his trousers, he then held it tightly on his pulsing bulge. I did not look, or dare to struggle; I thought it best to let the atmosphere calm down.
“That’s better, but give me a bit more leg room, I’m getting cramp in my leg crunched up like this,” there was still a sharp edge in his voice, reluctantly I slowly opened my knees, to give him room to move his legs.
His voice rang out loud and angry again, “You’re not really trying to be friendly, are you. I think it is about time the boys and I taught you a lesson.”
“No, please tell me what I’ve done wrong, I didn’t mean to upset you,” I was now reduced to tears.


“I asked you to give me more leg room, not shuffle your arse!”
I was now terrified, and I spread my legs wide apart, so wide that they were now resting on top of the legs of the boys who were kneeling alongside of me.”
“That’s more like it,” he said, his voice a lot calmer. “Now stop your crying, and let’s hear you answer some questions, so that we can all get to know you better. First question, do you believe in god?”
This took me by surprise, and I tried to calm myself, just managing to reply “Yes, passionately.”
“Then do you believe everything that god make is for a purpose?”
“Yes, of course.”


“Even that lump of meat that you’ve got in your hand?”
He was referring to Bryan’s prick, which I had not yet managed to get my hand away from.
“Well yes.”
“Well what did god make that for, apart from it being something he can piss through?”
“God made that for when he gets married.”
“And your pretty cunt, what’s that for?”
“God made that so we could raise children.”
“Do you think he made a mistake with yours?”
“No. Why?”
“Well a dog only starts wetting up when she’s in season, about twice a year. Your cunt wets after just a few strokes. Only five minutes ago you were wetting, but I’ll bet if I started a little rub now, you’d be lifting in less than a minute.”


“Why are you talking like this, you know it’s embarrassing me?” I bleated.
“That’s it woman, you’ve had all the chances your getting,” he shouted angrily, as he rose to his feet. “Get her up and let’s have her in the slaughter house,” he snapped at the boys.
He was furious, the boys grabbed me, arms under my legs, laid back, spread wide open, the way I had been carried across the yard, I struggled with all the strength that I could muster but they were just too strong, I screamed at the top of my voice, “please someone help me!”
To my relief as we were leaving the back of the shed to enter the barn, the door to the yard swung open and the three men from the yard came running in. What made me think they had come to help me, I don’t know. But it was obvious that they hadn’t.

The first one said, “oh good! We gona lay her out in the slaughter house.”
They laughed, and made crude comments as they made there way through the long barn. It was now certain that I was going to be gang raped. There was absolutely no way that I would be able to report this to the police, with Sergeant Jones having already heard my offer. I wasn’t sure exactly where they were taking me, but I knew that I had very little time left to change my fate.
I stopped struggling (not that they noticed), and called, “Mr Jones, Mr Jones, please stop and listen to me, I really do want to please you,” my call fell on deaf ears,
“Please… Please… Please… let me do something to change your mind.”
“Shut up you silly little bitch” said one of the men, “Mr Jones doesn’t want to hear your stupid bleating, your gona please all of us, we’ll fuck you real good.”


I think it was that man trying to speak for Mr Jones that saved the day.
Mr Jones snapped, “What do you know about what Mr Jones wants or doesn’t want, I make my own decisions, and I’ve decided that you three can piss off back to the yard and carry on with the sheep shearing that I’m paying you for.”
Everybody stopped in their tracks, the men didn’t say a word to Mr Jones, but as they walked away you could hear them all having a go at the man who had annoyed Mr Jones. The boys stood still waiting for the next instruction. Patch (the dog) had arrived on the scene, and Bryan was getting amusement by lowering me down sufficiently to allow patch to resume his licking.
Mr Jones grunted, “Pass her here, I’ll take her, Bryan, go take that bloody dog back to its kennel, and make sure he’s locked in. Morris, go and get a torch and hurry up about it.”


I had now been transferred to Mr Jones who had me held to his chest; I had my arms around his neck. My legs were now closed, but my dress was trailing in the muck, although this was a minor issue considering how close that rape had come.
I thought I would try to calm him down, by saying, “do you want me to talk to you about my wet panties?”
“Wet panties, if that’s the best you can do I might as well let the lads fuck you.”
Well, I realized he was going to take a lot more calming down this time, “Do you want me laid back in the chair, so you can have a close look at me?”
“You women are all the same, when I ask you a question; I get silence, when I want time to think you can’t stop rattling.”
I decided to keep quiet until he told me to speak.



Next second we stopped against the far wall of the barn. This side of the barn was pitch black with a high stone wall, at least twenty foot high.
“Get that bloody torch over here Morris,” he snapped.
Without a word Morris rushed past, the torch in his hand lighting up a big heavy door in the stone wall of the barn, he lifted the catch and pulled the door open. The light of the torch now showed the thickness of the wall, it must have been at least three foot, with another door at the other side. He lifted the catch, and pushed this door open, to reveal a large room about twelve feet square, he walked in ahead of us, turning to shine his light in the door way, so that Mr Jones could see where he was stepping. He then turned and shone the light to the large bed that was in the middle of the room, where Mr Jones put me down.


Morris walked round the bed to the far side of the room, and lit a small oil lamp that was placed on a box near the wall. He then turned off the torch and placed it on the box along side the lamp. The torch had not been that bright, but now it was turned off the oil lamp produced only a small flickering pool of light in the front far corner of the room. With what I had seen in the torch light, and what I was now beginning to be able to distinguish, this room was the barest of places I had seen. It containing only the bed I sat on and the small box in the corner where the lamp was giving the dimmest glimmer of light.
Mr Jones said nothing for several minutes, obviously letting me have time to assess my situation, and then suddenly.


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


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


“You like that one,” said Mr Jones.
“No, it’s not that,” I said, “I thought I recognized the lady.”
“I’m sure you do,” he said, “its Barbara, who you bought the house off, she looks like she’s having fun don’t she?”
I didn’t reply.
This obviously got him angry again, as he snapped.
“I said, she looks like she’s having fun don’t she?”
“Yes.”
“For a school teacher, you don’t learn very well do you? You should know by now I’ve got a short fuse. When I ask a question, I expect an answer, not a dumb silence. This is your very last chance; one more hesitation, and I’ll call the shearing lads in, and me and my boys will fuck you till you can’t stand up.”


All of the photos that were on the beam showed women, and girls, some very young, all being abused in one way or another, whilst being strapped to that bed. The hair styles, the clothes (where any were still on), all indicated this bed had been in use for many years and had claimed many victims. I knew by his tone that I would have to be very careful not to be one of them.
“I’m so sorry,” I quickly replied.
“I’m not so sure about that.” (Pause). “It’s about time you proved that you want to please me.”
“Please just tell me what you want.”
“Well let’s say I’m trying to be your friend, I don’t want to see you upset, so this is what I’m going to do. Before I ask you a question, I’ll explain the outcome that your different answers would make happen. This way you’ll get time to consider your answer, then we won’t get these pregnant pauses, and I won’t get upset.”


“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean but if that’s what you want to do, of course it’s alright with me,” I hastily replied.
“Right I’ll give you an example. Now don’t answer until I tell you to. Now supposing I said I think that it’s a waste of time you wearing that dress, would you like to take it off. You would have to consider the alternatives. If I leave it on, it ain’t covering up any thing, apart from your shoulders, it keeps getting in the way, it’s getting dirty, and old Di will probably blow his top, and you’ll end up getting fucked by him and his mates. On the other hand, if you take it off, you won’t really be showing anything more than you are now, it won’t keep getting in the way, it won’t get any dirtier, and old Di will probably calm down. Then maybe after we had our talk, all the problems that we’ve been having down at the house will be over, and he might let me go home. Now you see, you’ve had time to consider the alternatives. And when I say to you, ‘what’s your answer’? I’ll expect an instant yes or no. Do you see what I mean now?”
“Yes, I understand,” I said quickly.


“That’s good, now were learning. Well, what’s your answer?”
“Yes,” I snapped. I had as he said. Had time to think through the alternatives, and his assessment of my predicament was pretty accurate, what had I got to lose?
“Right my dear, do you want any help.”
“No, I’ll have it off as quickly as I can.”
“Now I think you and me are starting to understand one another.”
I undid the fasteners that were on the top of my dress and lowered it off my left shoulder, folded it, and passed it to Morris who was standing there with his arms stretched out; he took it to the other side of the room and placed it on the box. By this time all of our eyes had got used to the lack of light, and I could make out that Bryan was also in the room standing by the now closed door. I stood there alongside the bed, in just panties and bra. Mr Jones pointed to the middle of the bed, and said.
“Jump up, lie back, and make yourself comfortable.”


I did as I was told. The sheets on the bed were obviously stained with what I can only suppose was the residue from one type of bodily fluid or another, it felt hard and crusty in patches. As I lay back I thought what now. I turned my head to Mr Jones and waited for his next instruction.
“Can you edge your way right to the top of the bed love, I’m not as young as I used to be, we haven’t any chairs in here, can you make room for me to sit at the foot?” He said very softly.
I responded instantly, “Yes, I’m sorry I never thought,” I wriggle furiously to make room for him, until I could feel the bars of the bed head on my hair. “Is that enough for you?” I asked trying my best to keep his calm temperament.


“Yes that’ll be fine,” he said. “Now before I sit down do you think you’re ready to prove you want to please me?”
“Yes, just ask,” I said, not knowing what I was letting myself in for.
“Well, like before. I’ll ask the question, give you the alternatives, then expect an instant answer, is that understood?”
“Yes”


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


My hands were furiously tugging at my waist band, I lifted my legs high towards my head, and the panties were gone in an instant. I returned my legs back down the bed and smiled, hoping this would please him.
“That was good, now open up wide to give me plenty of room to sit on the bed.”
This time he had not given me the alternatives, and time to think, I guess the alternatives were obvious, so I gradually started to open my legs. The light was dim and I was in a shadow, but never the less it was all I could do to keep them legs moving wider, and wider, until.
“That’ll do,” he said.


I was taken by surprise, although I was spread quite wide, I had expected him to let me carry on to the full splits position. I plucked up my courage and tried a big beaming smile, thinking this would be a good idea.
“Now lift up your knees, and spread until I say stop,” his voice was still gentle and calm.
I complied with his wish; he climbed on the bed, kneeling in between my legs. As before one boy either side put a hand on my knee and held me open.
“Right, now we can carry on our little talk about how easy your cunt juices up, can't we?”
“Yes,” I said not wanting to show any signs of hesitation.


“I can see you’re nervous, so if any question is too difficult to answer straight off, instead of laying there silent, which you know will get me annoyed. Just lift your cunt up and down as fast as you can and I’ll repeat the question and give you the alternatives. That’ll give you time to think, and you wont end up with your photo on the wall like all the rest. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said.
“Right lets give it a try so I know what I’m looking for.”
I lifted and lowered. A couple of times, it felt so humiliating.
“Not bad I suppose, can you try to put a bit more effort into it. Go on, have another go.”
I humped as fast as I could manage, and I saw a smile appear on his face.
“That was good, now you know what you’ve got to do when you’re asked a question?
“Yes.”


“You’re quite comfortable?”
“Yes I’m all right like this,” I wasn’t, but there wasn’t any point in complaining.
“Back to your juicy cunt,” then he raised his voice, “BRYAN, leave her leg alone, and go and stand by the door.” Bryan had been rubbing his hand slowly up and down my inner thigh. He had been getting gradually closer and closer to my crotch. He had now reached the point where the side of his fingers were touching my cunt lips. The abrupt command from his dad had stopped him dead, he got up. But as he rose, he made a sly stroke across my cunt and pushed hard with his middle finger. It momentarily found its desired target, and I let out a loud gasp.


“Oh!” as his full finger length was sliding up my juicy hole.
While I had been laying there terrified, and trying to protect my chastity, my cunt must have had a mind of its own; it was positively dripping as if with anticipation. Bryan pulled it out quickly; and made his way to the corner, dodging what would have been a heavy blow from Mr Jones’s fist.
Turning back to me Mr Jones said, “Are you Alright my love, did he hurt you.”
“No, I’m ok,” I said.
“Was that a no? Your not alright, or no? It didn’t hurt?”
“I meant, yes I am alright, but no he didn’t hurt me. Thank you for stopping him.”
“Why did you let out that cry then?”
“I don’t really know.”


“Be very careful with your answers, I think you do know. I think I know as well, now once again, did you gasp cos it hurt, or was it just that you weren’t expecting it?”
“Yes that right, I wasn’t expecting it and it took me by surprise.”
“But you’re sure it didn’t hurt?”
Because he rammed it up so quickly, it had hurt slightly. But fearing that Mr Jones would have punished Bryan, and I don’t like violence, I lied, and said, “No, I’m alright.”
“You said it didn’t hurt, but what did he actually do to you? Now remember Morris saw it happen, and I can also ask Bryan. So make sure you tell me exactly what he did.”


“He put his f f… finger in me.” I stammered.
“In you? In you, where?”
“In my hole.”
“Which hole? Your mouth?”
“No, my Vagina.”
“Never heard of a vagina, do you mean your cunt?”
“Yes.”
“I’m getting annoyed; you still haven’t said where he put his finger?”
“He put his finger in my cunt.”
“How much of his finger? Which finger? And don’t forget to say where he put it.”
“He pushed all of his middle finger right up my cunt.”
“So Bryan pushed the whole of that great big fat finger, right up your cunt. But it didn’t hurt?”
“No, it didn’t hurt,” I lied again.


“So if you were looking to do something to please me, and you’re sure it doesn’t hurt when you get a finger poked up your cunt, what about asking if I want to poke your hole for a bit?”
“I… I don’t know,” I stammered.
“What have you forgot to do? Come on, what should you have done when you didn’t know what to answer?” He was getting louder.
“I… I’m sorry; I should have lifted up and down.”
“When I want you to talk, you stay dumb and nod, now I want pumping action, you start talking, now come on, if you want time to think, pump that cunt.”
I lifted up and down, pumping my hips, boy did I pump, and I was scared out of my wits.
“Right, hold on a minute. Don’t wear yourself out. Bryan lets have a bit of light.”


I stared in disbelief, four lights started to shine dimly at first, gradually getting brighter. These were not house light bulbs, but the big spot light that you see at the theatre. Three along the wall behind the foot of the bed, one mounted in each corner high against the roof, the other centrally about four feet off the floor. The fourth light was on the roof pointing directly down at my crotch.
Mr Jones said, “that’s bright enough for now, till my eyes get used to it, but stop there just in case we need them re-positioning.”
He then shifted himself to the side of the bed where Bryan had been, so that the low spot light on the far wall could do its job. He put his hand on my inner thigh, and started the same thing the Bryan had been doing only moments before.


With his other hand he took hold of Morris’s hand and encouraged him to do the same to my other leg. They were both stroking to the top until there hands were both touching my cunt lips on each stroke. I laid there still terrified.
“Now we can see what’s going on would you like to show us that pumping?”
I pumped, and Mr Jones’s hand lay across my crotch, so that I was giving myself a brisk rubbing.
“Ok love; now bring it down to a slow lifting action.”
I slowed.
“No slower still.”
As he said this I was at the end of an up stroke, I lowered myself very slowly down, when my bottom touched the sheet I was about to start on the up stroke.


“Stop; Are you ready to answer my question now?”
“Yes I’m ready to do what you want, but I don’t know which question you mean,” I was terrified and almost ready to submit to anything.
“Would you like to please me, by asking me to poke your cunt?”
“Yes, please.”
“Please what?”
”Poke me.”
“Poke you where?”
“In my hole.”
“Which hole? Your mouth?”
“Please poke my cunt.”
“Now say it again loud, but invitingly as though you really want it, Please Mr Jones poke my cunt.”
“Please Mr Jones poke my cunt for me.”


He placed the end of his finger at the entrance to my hole, and said, “Come on girl lift that cunt.”
I did, it slid up effortlessly.
After about a dozen strokes, he said, “ok love you can stop now. That was just to see if you were going to be friendly to me. We can carry on talking now, if you want.”
“Yes please,” I said.
“Where did we get to?” he asked.
I quickly replied, “You wanted to talk about my juicy cunt.”


“That’s right, and now I’ve had a chance to see just how quickly it juices up, I was right, wasn’t I?”
I knew he wanted the full answer, “Yes, my cunt does juice up quickly.”
“How often does Jim fuck you?”
I paused, his face started to change, I knew he was going to explode, but I couldn’t answer, so I suddenly started pumping up and down. His face changed again, and a smile appeared.
“That’s right, your learning. Ok stop now, we don’t want to wear you out. Now I’m sure you know what will happen if you don’t answer. So I can only assume that you wanted time to think. Well now I think that little pause should have been long enough, so let’s have a nice loud truthful answer now.”


“Usually about once a month,” I said quickly.
“My god he’s worse than most married men, and still only a young bloke. What’s the most number of times that he has ever fucked you in one night?”
“Three.”
“When was that, when you were courting?”
“No, we never made love till we got married.”
“What’s the most times that anyone else has ever fucked you in one night?”
“I’ve never been with any other man but Jim.”
“So you’ve got a cunt that wets up without hardly any encouragement, can take a big pork sausage of a finger with ease, and it gets used only once a month. God gave you a cunt that can be fucked at least ten times a day, and you keep hidden away and use it once a month. Is that right.”
“Yes, I suppose your right.”


“Does Jim leave it in to soak, after he’s cum?”
“Jim always takes it out before he ejaculates.”
“Don’t get me angry with them fancy words, if you don’t talk my language, then I’ll have to lets the lads educate you, understand?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“So Jim never cums his muck up inside you?”
“No.”
“Nobody has ever cum inside you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“There’s only ever been Jim, and we’re not ready for children.”
“So what he do with his muck?”
“He uses an old handkerchief.”
“So you've never really been fucked properly, in your life?”
“I thought that Jim was doing it properly.”
“If you’ve never had a man cum inside and soak his prick, then you’ve never had an orgasm?”


“I’m not sure what an orgasm feels like.”
“Well I’m not a woman, but the way they behave when I’ve given them an orgasm, I’m sure that you would know if it had happened. You’re missing out on one of the greatest pleasures that god invented, some of the gal's in those pictures, were Cumming five or more times in one session on this bed. Even last week we had a virgin of thirteen, and she had two orgasms’. Some of them stains under you are from her. Come on lift up and take a look, the blood is from when I popped her cherry, and the big stain from is where her cunt almost exploded when she cum. She struggled and screamed for at least ten minutes, but two hours later, she was asking if anyone would mount her again, she loved it. You see god gave you that cunt for a reason. They always say he moves in mysterious ways. Well, all this trouble you’re having down at the house is god’s way of getting you to come and see me. Because if you let me give you a fucking, and give yourself freely, then tomorrow the lads will clean out the water tank, and you’ll have fresh water. I'll get my cousin to bring in his men and re-plant your gardens, lawns and clean up all the mess and we’ll be the best of friends for life. You’ll probably get your first orgasm, and you’ll be home making Jims tea before you know it. And your little cunt will be just as good as ever, ready for Jim’s once a month fuck. The alternative is that we strap you to the bed, and we'll all give you a fucking. But after that we won’t be friends, and I’ll probably want a shit, so I’ll go up to the water tank. Now you’ve had plenty of time to work out your answer, what's it going to be, do you want me to fuck you?”
I knew I hadn’t got a choice, “yes of course I do.”


He climbed off the bed and started to undress, “Take off your bra love, I like to nibble on some titty whilst I’m fucking.”
I sat up, put my arms behind my back undid my bra; I was just about to lie back when I heard a noise at the back of the room. Peering through the strong beams of light I could see the shapes of more than just one man at the back of the room. I had thought that Bryan was the only one standing at the back; I now knew I had a much larger audience. There was nothing I could do, so I just laid back and tried to pretend that they weren’t there. I looked at Mr Jones who was climbing into position, his prick was big and thick, at least an inch longer than Jim’s, and much thicker. I started to worry, would my cunt be big enough. He entered the end, that wasn’t too bad, then he pushed, my cunt swelled open to take it. Don’t get me wrong I knew it was stretching the flesh more than it had ever been before, but I was amazed that my little body could take it so easy.


In no time I was pushing as hard as he was, and I couldn’t seem to get enough. His fucking wasn’t like Jim’s, all short rapid strokes, and lasting about ten minutes. This was long slow thrusting, each thrust stretching my belly. He was, nibbling at my tits, as he said he would be, and at first I thought it was painful, but I was even getting to like that. I was thinking this is going to last forever, as he pumped relentlessly on. Gradually I noticed that his strokes were getting faster, and there was a rush of muscle contractions starting to affect my cunt.
“Are you ready to come?” He said.
“I… I don’t know.”
“Well I am,” he said.
“Take it out quick then,” I cried.
“Don’t be a silly girl; you ain’t been fucked till you’ve had a bit of cum in you.”


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


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


It didn’t take any words; Bryan was ripping at his clothes, stripping off as fast as he could. I guessed what was coming next but realized that it was pointless fighting. He didn’t climb on the bed, he leapt, I lifted my legs open to accommodate him, and away he went. His prick was slightly bigger than his dad, but I wasn’t scared any more, I just pushed hard and fast. He was going like a runaway train, pumping at a hundred strokes a second, there must have been steam coming out of my cunt. He went fast and burned out quickly, he was coming in no more than two minutes. He pulled out almost straight away, and knelt down, as if to see what damage he had done. Although I couldn’t see what they were all looking at, I could feel it was all still intact and good working order. I let my legs relax, but as before, left then fairly wide. The comments were still coming, and I was feeling curiously proud of the remarks they were making.


There was some sort of banter going on about Morris, and I suspected it was because he was probably a virgin. I thought he would be a gentle lover, so as I could see they were egging him on and helping him to undress; I lent up, held out my hands and beckoned him towards me.
“Come on Morris, ignore the rest of them, you come and give me a good time.”
At that moment they pulled down his pants, to expose what looked like a prick off a horse!
I was used to horse riding, and at some time, if you are at the stables you are bound to see a horse’s dick. The only difference that I could see between Morris’s dick and a horse’s, was that his was standing bolt upright, like a guard out side Buckingham palace.


I now realized the ribbing that he was getting wasn’t because he was a virgin, but, they didn’t think he would be able to get it in. I started to worry about my cunt, would he rip it to bits. He climbed slowly into position; I leaned forward and reached down to help him in. When I took hold I realized that his prick was not solid, as if he was not fully turned on, this great big man was shy, and all the mickey taking must have taken the edge of his ardour.
He was still hard enough to enable me to grip half way down its length, and push gently into my cunt. I pushed, and to my surprise the mouth of my cunt just kept stretching, I pushed more, and more went in, this was really stretching me. I was pulling my legs open as hard as my muscles would go. The men at the sides of the bed decided I needed some help, and they started pulling, I didn’t mind, although I don’t think it was really helping. Now I had got it started, I said to Morris, “Just give it a push to see if it will go.”
He gave a push, I felt my belly pump up as the mound of flesh slid up inside, once again I couldn’t tell if it was joy or pain, but I knew I wanted more of it.


“Fuck me Morris I cried, fuck me.”
He did.
The first push had sent that entire monster inside, and his balls had bounced against my arse.
He started to pump violently, like his brother, short fast strokes, but his prick was getting harder. He was now getting fully aroused; his prick was swelling, and getting longer. I could soon feel it ramming hard at the top of my womb, and his balls were not now reaching my arse. I was gasping for breath, and wondering whether I would last out without having to ask him to take it easier, when, the characteristic change in pace told me it would soon be over.
“Ugh... ugh aahhh,” Morris breathlessly gasped.
He had cum. I on the other hand had not really got started, but I whispered in his ear, “That was wonderful.”


This brought a great big smile to his face, and he started to pull his prick out, even pulling out was hurting. The loud ‘plop’ sound that it made when the knob end dropped out made them all start laughing, and even I found it funny and couldn’t stop myself grinning. They were all closing in to inspect the damage, and Mr Jones asked, “Are you still alright?”
“I’m hurting a bit, but I think I’m ok.”
Next up to the bed was Sergeant Jones; he looked closely at my hole, and said, “Ok if I have a go now love?”
What could I say, “Yes, be my guest.”


He started to strip and fold his uniform neatly, as he was getting ready, Old Mr Jones sat on the edge of the bed, and started poking his finger in my cunt, and sliding it down across my arse. Then he started, pushing the end of his finger in my arse. He was staring at me with a stern look on his face, and I took this to mean that I shouldn’t start protesting. He was taking his time working the finger up a little more each time, until he got a full finger. The amount of cum and cunt juice around my holes and his slow progress meant that it didn’t really hurt; it was just something that I wasn’t used to. He poked half a dozen strokes of full finger, and then turning to his brother, “Pass it over, I think she’s ready.”


Being laid down I couldn’t see what was passed, but I felt something pushing against my arsehole, then it went to my cunt, where it slid in without any trouble. It was cold, hard, smooth, and the amount that was going in, confirmed it was long. He slid it up and down my cunt a few times, pulled it out and started pushing at my arse. He once again gave me that stare, I winced slightly as it spread my arsehole, and I bit my lip so as not to squeal, as he pushed it up. How much was up there, or what it was, I didn’t know. But he looked over at one of the men on the other side of the bed and said, “Just hold the end, make sure it doesn’t slide out.” He then got off the bed, and his naked brother climbed on.


He lined up his prick and started his action; he had a similar style to his brother, slow long strokes. I soon got into the rhythm, and lifted on each stroke, I could tell this was going to be another good fuck. We both pumped each other for what seemed like forever, I could feel the spasms starting in my cunt; he could feel them as well.
He said, “Feels like your ready?”
“Yes, ooh yes, cum, shoot you’re cum up me,” I was delirious.
Boy did he cum, I thought he was never going to stop, it was warm inside me.
“Ooh yes, yes, more, yes, ooh.”
He slumped on top of me as his brother had done before, and I lay there jerking with contraction, whilst the audience made various comments, all complementary, about both the sergeant’s and my performance.


They gave him time to soak his prick until it shrank and slipped out. He then got up and smiled at me as he said, “That truncheon of mine up your arse is and old trick I learned, it tightens up the cunt after Morris has been in. I’ll take it out; you should have had time to shrink back by now.”
One of the Shearer’s standing by the side of the bed was already half undressed, so I thought I probably had three more to go. I was laid there on full display almost unconcerned, waiting to be fucked by total strangers. What had got into me? Well that is apart from all those pricks. My wandering mind started to realize that Bryan was once again acting like an excited child tugging at his dad, I couldn’t hear what he was pleading, but I guessed. His dad nodded, and held his arm out in front of the now naked Shearer to push him back. The man looked annoyed, but said nothing.


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


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


I felt terrified, “Yes of course he can. Come on Morris; show them what a real man can do.” What made me say that? Did I really want that huge prick up inside again? I think I must have.
My encouragement must have given him confidence, this was the first time I had seen the hard version of his prick, and was it big. I didn’t want to get Mr Jones annoyed, but I had to call out to Morris, “Please, just put it in slowly, and take your time, until I get used to it”
Mr Jones looked at me. I shook, not knowing what he was going to do or say.
“Listen to what she says Morris, you don’t want to damage that prick of yours,” was the sarcastic remark. There was loud laughter. I didn’t see the joke, but when Mr Jones gave me one of his looks, I pretended to be amused.


Morris was pushing, I was swelling. Bump! He was hitting the top already. I still knew I was being stretched, but it was easier than last time. He started with a slow pump, but could not control himself for long; he was soon going like the piston rods on a train. Bang. Bang, it hit the top of my womb deep inside, and I was getting the cunt contraction already. He started cuming and my cunt closed on him like a python trying to crush its prey. This must have given him as much pleasure as it was giving me, he lay still. With my every contraction drawing another warm jet of spunk out of his prick, I could feel it splashing on the roof of my womb. My arms were wrapped around him as far as I could reach, and so were my legs. As I came back to normal consciousness, I could hear the crude but wonderfully flattering remarks that every one, including Mr Jones, were making about the expert use I was making of my cunt.
Mr Jones tapped his son on his back, and said, “That was a good one son, now let someone else have a go.”


What was I saying, “Mr Jones, please let Morris fuck me again first.” I couldn’t believe my ears.
And I think it surprised Mr Jones as well, “Well, do you want another go Morris?”
Morris didn’t answer, but away we went again, this was like heaven, the hurt was no more, but the pleasure was almost unbearable, we fucked each other, and both climaxed again, to a loud cheer from the onlookers.
I drifted away on cloud nine, not conscious of when Morris had left me, as I came back, I could feel my legs were being held up and wide and the audience were looking at my cunt.
“She’s back with us again, you can have your go now if you want,” said Mr Jones to the Shearer.


I looked as he climbed on the bed and realized this was going to be a non event. His dick had gone soft with all the waiting and he knelt there wanking away to get an erection.
Mr Jones leant down towards me and said, “That's your fault, wanting seconds off our Morris.”
Looking back to the Shearer, he said, “Come on up to this end of the bed, kneel astride her and let her have a suck till it gets hard.”
He didn’t ask me, but I knew once again by that look that I was going to suck like a good’n. I could taste the semen on the end of his prick, but I wrapped my hands around it and entered it deep in my mouth, sucking like mad. It only took seconds, for it to start growing, and the man leant over top of me and started pushing in deep into my throat. I was gagging, and struggling for breath, when I heard.
“Come on you I only said till it gets hard.”
The man continued pumping deep in my throat, “I might as well fuck her mouth, cos her cunts too big now.”
Mr Jones dragged the man off me and threw him to the floor in a fit of rage, “I said leave her alone, I’ll decide if her cunt still works.”


The man was laid in a heap on the floor, looking terrified.
“Come on get up and get stuck into her, if you don’t want to miss your turn altogether,” Mr Jones grunted.
The man slowly picked himself up, and climbed back in between my legs. He pushed his limp prick up my cunt, and started to pump away. “She’s slack as can be, Mr Jones. Can I at least have the truncheon up her arse?”
“She’s slack because you’ve got such a small prick, and only a policeman is allowed to use a truncheon,” he laughed. I must admit I started chuckling at this, but I soon stopped, when I heard Mr Jones say, “If you can’t get on with her cunt, stick your prick up her arse.” Turning to me he said, “Come love grab hold of your ankles, and pull them up above your head.”
I did, his prick slipped out of my cunt and he started fucking my arse. He began to smile, “that better he said, I can touch the sides.” There were a few chuckles. He pumped for about ten minutes, it didn’t hurt, and after a while I started to get some kind of thrill, but it wasn’t like real fucking.


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


To my surprise, he replied. “Go on then, I could use another fuck, but move over, and let me lie down. You can climb on top and do the work.”
Why did I open my big mouth? I did as instructed, his prick was standing to attention, I slid down onto it, even I could tell my cunt was sloppy, not just sloppy wet, but stretched, and loose.
“Your not very tight now love, come and tighten her up for me Barry (Sergeant Jones).”
I waited for the truncheon, to enter my arse. I could feel the bed move as Sergeant Jones climbed on, and prepared myself. I felt it touch my arsehole, and as he started to push I realized, it was softer than a truncheon, and warm. Up it went, and he started to pump. He was fucking me!

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


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


I sat on the bench getting dried, when Mr Jones asked, “Can we give you a licking before you go?”
I didn’t answer, I just lay back along the bench lifted one leg up the wall, let the other one fall to the floor, and waited. It was heavenly, even Bryan seemed to have got this one sorted; I could have lain there all evening. As it was they must have been at it for half an hour. When they finished I said, “What can I do about my dress?”
“Our Morris nipped back ages ago and got you a new pair of knickers and an old pair of jeans. They were Jim’s jeans, much too big, but I put then on and turned up the bottom of the legs.
When they escorted me out, it was along a narrow corridor, with thick stone walls, we went through at least five big thick bolted doors, and came out in daylight, in a field at the house side of the barn.


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


There was Jim waiting at the gate. I must have been still blushing when we arrived at the gate, because Jim said, “Are you alright, you look red faced.”
“Yes darling, of course I am?”
“I think your wife is just blushing, because Morris said that that was the best he had ever tasted, in fact we all agreed, and we’ve just spent the last half hour licking it clean. Ain’t that right boys,” said Mr Jones with a broad grin on his face.
The boys were both grinning like Cheshire cats, and nodding uncontrollably. I just blushed more, knowing Mr Jones was telling Jim about licking out my cunt.


“Well it looks like you all had a good time, and you’ve all come back the best of friends,” Said Jim.
“Yes Jim you’ve got a little treasure there, as long as she here by your side I’m sure that you’ll never have any more trouble.” Turning to me, he said, “Tell Jim about my cousin coming tomorrow to put right all the damage. We’ll say good night, we’re going back for our tea now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” As soon as they were out of earshot, Jim asked, “What are you doing in my jeans?”
I explained that as soon as I realized that the sheep were loose in the farm yard, I had hurriedly returned and put on something old that covered my legs because I would need to climb the gate. He accepted this without question, and even praised me for wearing something sensible.


That night I made sure Jim was aroused, and I fucked him crazy, and even got him to give me second helpings. He came out with some stupid remark about me feeling better now that all our problems were over, and that was why I was so randy. And anyway, he said there wasn’t much chance of me getting pregnant on the first time.
When I woke up I was feeling so good, whether it was the fact that our troubles were over, or the fucking that I’d had, I’m not sure. Jim was still sound asleep; I think I had totally exhausted him last night. My sleep had been disturbed by the sound of a tractor and voices outside. I slipped on my panties and bra from the day before, and went to peek out of the window. There was a great big digging machine, a small flat truck and about five men out in the lane. I realized it was Mr Jones cousin come to repair the damage to the garden. Even this made me feel better, as it meant Mr Jones was going to stand by his word.


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


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


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


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


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


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


The first man we met outside was hosing down the back yard, and he said the gaffer (Mr Jones’s cousin) was out the back in the garden. I was starting to blush already. As we walked through to the back garden, we nodded politely to four different men who were all working away at various tasks. We arrived at the back garden gate; Jim asked the first man, “Who’s the gaffer then?”
“That him,” Said the man pointing. As we made our way across the large garden, towards the gaffer, all eyes were on me. I knew I was blushing brightly, I could almost feel their hands, or tongs on my body. Even Jim noticed their staring, and whispered in my ear, “Anyone would think they hadn’t seen a woman before. And you’re as bad, blushing like a school girl.”


Jim introduced himself and me to the gaffer, who said his name was Di (David, same as his cousin old Mr Jones the farmer). We made some polite small talk, and Jim gradually got round to asking whether we needed as many men as this, “I’m not sure whether we can really afford to pay this many men for a whole day,” he said.
Di said, “Don’t be silly, old Di down at the farm is funding this lot. He wants me to make sure that I get it sorted out today, so as you can go away happy.”


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


Later in the afternoon, Jim and I were sitting in the orchard, saying how wonderful it was going to be living here now that we had made friends with Mr Jones, when we heard someone at the gate.
“Hi Jim, Margaret how’s it going?” Said the smiling Mr Jones.
“Everything is perfect, and I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. You don’t know just how happy you’ve made my Margaret.”
“Well I’m really pleased about that. And as from yesterday, I like to think of you both as family, which makes her my Margaret, as well.”
“Well that’s nice of you to say, but I’m sure that she didn’t go to any special trouble for you yesterday.”
“Special trouble or not, me and the lads really appreciated it, as I said yesterday it was that good we licked it out.”
“I’m sure Margaret could spare some more if you like it that much. Said Jim, not realizing what Mr Jones was talking about licking.
“Well if its not being too greedy are you sure you don’t mind Margaret? It would be right neighbourly of you.”
“Yes that’s no problem,” I said, I’ll go and get you some.


As I was about to get up, Di the cousin arrived.
Mr Jones said to his cousin that I had offered to let him have some more of what he’d had yesterday, and turning to Jim said, “Do you think they’ll be enough for both of us?”
“Margaret’s got plenty, and I hardly ever bother with it, you’d be doing me a favour. I’m sure we’ve only got it be cause she likes doing it so much,” said Jim, his words fuelling Mr Jones's imagination.
Di said, “in that case could I be cheeky and invite the lads up here to join in.”
Jim said, “Of course you can. Hang on Margaret, I’ll come and give you a hand”


“Actually Jim, that’s what I came up here for, you’re wanted by Mrs Jones down at the farm. She said old Di here is useless in the house. You nip down there and sort out Mrs Jones, and we’ll give your missies a hand,” said Di.
“Ok then I’ll go straight off now.”
“While your down there find our Morris and tell him to sent the work gang up to the barn, tell them you’re missies will be there to give them a treat,” said Mr Jones grinning.
“Ok,” called Jim as he made his way down the lane.


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


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


So that was it, no introductions, just a quick fuck, no ‘thank you that was nice’, or even ‘I’m sorry to have fucked you in broad daylight in front of a train full of tourists’, (not that they could tell what he was doing to me).
He put his arm around me and said. “Come on lets get up to the barn.”
I started walking with him when old Mr Jones said.
“Hang on seeing you two together, gave me an idea. Why don’t we let the lads bang her here in the orchard? It’s a pleasant evening, With any luck we might get one of them groups of hill walkers come past, and we can invite them to join in.”
“What about the film?”
“We got plenty of that yesterday, and I'm sure there’ll be plenty more opportunities.”


I thought what film? Got plenty yesterday! What were they on about? My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the rowdy group coming up the lane.
The gang was arriving, including Mr Jones’s two boys; I counted eleven men, with Mr Jones and his cousin that’s 13! Unlucky for some, and I think, the someone was me. It was obvious that he expected me to take them all, and no doubt some of them more than once.


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


Morris helped me home and took me up to my bathroom, he ran the water and helped me in, and then he left me. I just lay there, and I was still there when Jim came home. Jim told me what good spirits the gang of men were in when they had returned to the farm, “I don’t know how you managed to satisfy all that lot with a few jars of fruit preserve,” he said. If only he’d known! I tried to get out of the bath, but I was really aching.
As I was struggling, Jim walked in, “what’s wrong Margaret?”
“It’s alright, I’m just aching. My periods due soon.”
“Do you want some help?”
“Please,” I said holding out my arm. He helped me out of the bath and along the landing to the bedroom, where I sat on the bed.


Jim had a cheeky grin on his face, he said, “Perhaps it was the seeing to that I gave you last night, I must be too much for you.” This was very uncharacteristic for Jim.
I lay back and closed my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you were hurting that bad.”
I lay there for about five minutes, when Jim said, “we ought to be getting ready to start back home now.”
“I’m not really feeling up to it just yet, do you mind if I stop here till you come back next week?”
“Well if you’re sure you’ll be ok.”
“I’m sure I’ll be ok now we’ve made our peace with Mr Jones.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s one thing, now that’s all settled I can at least leave you here alone knowing that Mr Jones and his boys will take care of you.”
“Yes, I’m sure they will.”
“Do you want me to call in at the farm and tell him I’m leaving you here, so he can come and see you’re alright?”
“No, please don’t, I’d rather just get some rest.”


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


As he woke, he looked momentarily confused.
“What are you doing there?” I asked.
“I… Well Da sent me up here last night to make sure you were alright.”
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“Your Jim called in on his way home and said you weren’t feeling well, he asked me Da to look in and take care of you.”
“So why are you laid there?”
“I don’t think our Da trusts our Bryan, so he asked me to make sure you didn’t get any callers.”
“How long have you been there?”
“Since about nine last night. You were fast asleep when I arrived.”
“You’ve been on the floor all night just to protect me?”
“Da said you’d done well and deserved the rest.”
“That was nice of him. But hang on, how did you get in, I’d locked the door?”
“Jim gave Da a key. But it wouldn’t have mattered; we’ve got our own anyway.”
“Well thanks again for stopping last night, and thanks for not touching me, I don’t think I could have taken any more.”
“That’s alright. You looked so sweet laid there, like a little girl.”


“I’m sure you can go home now, I’ll be alright.”
“I will if you want, but Da did say I was to find work in the back field, so as to keep an eye on the house. But its up to you, if your feeling alright and don’t mind our Bryan giving you a visit, then I’ll go and get on with the job I’d already started down the bottom field.”
A visit from Bryan was not what I wanted at this moment, so I said, “No it’s probably best to do as your dad said. Do you mind waiting down stairs till I get dressed? I’ll make you some breakfast when I come down if you want.”
“Thanks Mrs King, I’m starving.”
I rushed around getting dressed, not bothering to wash and ran down the stairs. I certainly did feel a lot better than last night, or was I just excited having Morris in the house. I made his breakfast, which he ate rapidly, and then he picked up the plate and licked it clean. Watching him lick the plate clean like a child, it brought back the memories of him licking out my cunt. But as I started to think that, I knew I was getting randy again.


“Right,” I said trying to get myself thinking of something else. “You can go and get on with some work now, because I’ve got to go and do my morning exercises.”
“Oh please Mrs King let me come and watch you?”
“No. I couldn’t do my exercises with you watching.”
“But you did them yesterday, cos everybody was saying how they’d never seen anything like it before.”
“Yes but that was different. I didn’t know they were watching.”
“Oh go on. Please. Please Mrs King. I’ll be your slave for the day; I’ll do anything you want.”
He’d already seen me naked, and fucked me I don’t know how many times. What difference could it make letting him see me exercise?


“Well ok then, you wait here I’ll go up and get changed into my leotard, then I’ll call you up.”
“What’s a leotard?”
“That’s what I wear when I’m exercising.”
“Everybody said you were fucking naked.”
“Please don’t swear Morris, it doesn’t sound nice using that language.”
“Everybody uses them words, except back at the farm when my moms in.”
“I know they do, but when the others are not around, please pretend that I’m your mother.”
“I can’t do that, cos you keep making my cock stiff, and I don’t think of mom like that.”
“No. I meant just don’t use any bad language when were alone.”
“If I promise, then can I watch you naked?”


I thought, 'why not?' “Yes. But keep your distance, and don’t touch.”
We went up stairs, he watched, I stripped, and I started to do my routine. At first I was finding it difficult to lift my legs with him sitting on the floor just two or three feet away. But gradually I started to relax; I found I was stretching for all I was worth. It was later in the morning than my usual routine, so there was no sun blinding me. I could see him staring, and I purposely turned in his direction as much as was possible and smiled as I showed him holes. I was now sweating profusely, and I could feel that now familiar tickle as the juices dribble from my cunt and down both my legs. It was no exaggeration to say that I was in a frenzy. I could see Morris holding that mighty prick, it was still in his trousers, but it was fighting to come out.


“Oh!” thwack. I’d slipped on my own juices that had formed a slimy pool on the lino. I was laid on my back, legs open as usual, I wasn’t hurt, just momentarily shaken.
Morris came over and knelt over top of me, “Have you hurt yourself?”
“No. I’m alright.”
He looked at me, almost begging, “Please can we fuck?”
“Not here, carry me to my bedroom.”


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


I was dreaming, and as sometimes happens, the dream started to get so real that the sensations became a reality. I could feel Morris licking my cunt; he was licking, and licking. His tongue going deeper and deeper each lap, I was responding, stretching ever wider, and lifting onto each penetration. I had my eyes closed, and I was loving it.
I mouthed out the words, I must have been saying them aloud, "Come on Morris be a good boy and lick your plate clean, and then momma won’t have to wash it.”
In the vague distance I heard, “Look at her go, she thinks its Morris.”


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


He knelt up in-between my legs, grinning, “You like a good licking don’t you bitch?”
I suddenly saw red, and thought why should he talk to me like that? I just stared at him in silence.
He lifted his hand and brought it up alongside my face, as if he was ready to slap me.
“I asked you a question Bitch,” he said threateningly.
I said nothing. SLAP!
My face stung.
“I asked you a question Bitch,” he repeated.
I said nothing. His hand drew back again; I closed my eyes and winced. SLAP!
I started to weep.
“Answer this time bitch, or I’ll fucking kill you.” He drew his hand back, I closed my eyes again.
“That’s enough Bryan can't you see the marks you’re putting on her, your Da will bloody slaughter us,” said one of the men as he grabbed Bryan’s hand.
Bryan struggled, but the other man joined in, “Calm down Bryan, lets just fuck her and go.”


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


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


“Come on bitch, it’s like fucking a corpse.”
“I told you boys, the fuck with me will be a waste of time, you’d be better of going down the village and having one of them school girls with the tight cunts.” I could tell it wouldn’t be long before Bryan cum his load.
“Well this is the last time I’ll ask, if he cums inside me, then you might as well have your turns, because this will be the last fuck you’ll ever get, and I’m going to lie here like a wet fish.”
It was as if they were controlled by one brain, they both grabbed Bryan and hauled him off.


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


“If you pair want to keep your manhood intact, you’re going to have to control that idiot. Cos if he comes near me, without Mr Jones telling him to. I may not be able to make sure he gets what he deserves, but I’ll make sure you get it instead of him.”
“What can we do about him; he’s got a mind of his own.”
“You could have fooled me, I thought his brain was in his prick, and I think he’s shot most of that on my face.”
“We can’t be with him all day every day,” said the second man.
Now I know I said I didn’t like violence, but I think in some situations it might be justified.


“Now look you pair if you think I’m kidding you’d better think again. His dad might not hurt him, but if you pair teach him a lesson now and make sure that he knows that he’ll get the same again if he comes near me, then I’ll make sure Morris doesn’t say anything. So long as I don’t see Bryan or you lot again, unless Mr Jones is with you, then I won't say a word.”
With that they both grabbed Bryan.
“Come let’s get him out of here and give him a beating.”
“Hey! Don’t forget to untie Morris before you go.”
They undid some of the ropes around his wrists, and then dragged Bryan away, before Morris could get completely free.


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


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


At tea time Mr Jones came past in his tractor, and asked if I was feeling better.
“Yes thank you. And thanks for letting Morris stop around to protect me.”
“Are you feeling up to another session yet?”
“Well I still feel a bit tender.”
“I was being polite.” His voice changed, “Do I need to ask you again?”
No I didn’t need asking a second time, “Yes when do you want me ready?”
“Well I thought that being as I’d let you have a rest all day, you’d want to come up to the barn and learn some new tricks.”
“Yes please, what time?”
“You’ve seen enough of Morris today, I think I’ll send our Bryan to fetch you, I’ve seen him knocking around with a pair of his mates. I’ll bet he’d like to introduce you to them. Will that be ok?”
“Yes if that’s what you want.” Now I was nervous.
“I’m going back to have my tea, they’ll be up in about an hour to collect you.”


I waited nervously, expecting the worst, when the knock came I walked slowly, as if going to my own funeral. As I opened the door, and saw Morris standing there, I almost wet myself with excitement.
“Where’s Bryan?"
“You told his mates to sort him out; he’s in a right state. Da’s asked him what happened, but he ain’t said.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s waiting with Da up at the barn, but he won’t be doing anything to you tonight, the state he’s in.”


I no I shouldn’t, but I was glad, I thought it is about time he got his just desserts. Now I’d only have to look after old Mr Jones and Morris. I was actually looking forward to showing-off with Morris and his dad in front of Bryan, so that he could see what he was missing. I was almost dragging Morris up to the barn; he didn’t seem too eager to arrive.
“Come on you’ll soon have that monster of yours in action,” I teased.
When we got into the slaughter house, the flood light were burning bright, Bryan was sitting on a chair at the side of the bed towards the bottom. He did look a mess, I tried to look concerned, and ask if he was alright, but I couldn’t have cared less. I started getting undressed, and putting my clothes on the box. I climbed on the bed as if this was all normal.


Mr Jones spoke, “What do you know about what happened to our Bryan?”
“Nothing, why?”
“Well as he’s been in the wars I wondered whether you would like to do something to please him.” This was an obvious order, not a question.
“Yes what ever he wants.”
“Well he can’t talk very well, so I’ll tell you what he’s asked for.”
“I said you could do with learning a new trick. Jump down and look under the bed.”
I did, there I was naked on my hands and knees, looking under the bed with bum in the air, expecting some sort of insertion to take place.


“Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“No I thought you just wanted to do something to me.”
“Look for a large pillow.”
Under the bed was a large variety of implements, most of which I hadn’t a clue what they were. There were leather straps, big false pricks, and all sorts. I could see the pillows, the other side of the bed. I went around the bed and got on the floor in front of Bryan and pulled two large pillows out. Bryan didn’t touch me, much to my surprise. Mr Jones said to put the thinnest one of these pillows on the bed, and lie on top of it. I did, it had lifted my cunt about six inches off the bed.
“What do you think Bryan is that about the right height?”
Bryan nodded his head. I was ever more curious as to my lesson.


“Right come and give Patch a bit of fuss.”
I’d noticed Bryan had his trusty dog at his side, but the dog had seemed quiet as if knowing his master wasn’t well.
I got down on the floor, and started to rub the dog around the head and neck as you would normally fuss a dog.
“Come on love turn round and let him have a lick.”
He’d licked me before, and it wasn’t too bad (not that I had any choice), so I turned around and pushed my bottom towards patch.
“Open your knees, come on give him a chance.”
I opened, he licked, Bryan was trying to encourage the dog, but was finding it hard to talk.


“Morris come and lift patch onto the bed.”
Morris picked patch up put him on the bed; he was running around in circles all excited.
I stood up, and said, “now what?”
“Lay him down Morris.”
He took the dog and told him to lie down; at the same time he pulled him onto his back.
“Go on then, take hold of his balls, and get sucking on that prick,” said Mr Jones.
I wasn’t sure whether I could put a dog’s prick in my mouth, but I reached across and took hold gently of his balls. As I did a little pink pointed prick appeared. I bent forward, pursed my lips, and as it touched, I sucked slowly and carefully. It slid in and rapidly got bigger, I began to push it in and out.
“Move your cunt round this way so our Bryan can have a feel, he’s still got a couple of fingers that work.”
I turned whilst still looking after Patch, Bryan pushed, and I knew by the size, he was using both his fingers.


After a little while, “Ok love, get up now, we don’t want you to take him too far yet.”
As I got up Bryan's fingers pulled out, I just stood there waiting and looking at Mr Jones.
Morris helped the dog back to his feet, and held him still on the bed near the foot.
“On the pillow then love.”
They weren’t really going to do this were they? I slowly edged myself into place on the pillow, and lay back waiting for the inevitable.


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


Bryan fussed him for a while, nodded to Morris, who patted my belly, and said, “Come on patch.”
Patch turned back to me and started again. This carried on at least six times, I lost count.
They waited till patch had lost interest, and his swelling had gone down. At this point it slipped out and patch jumped down, running around wagging his tail.
During this event they had all been calling to patch with words of encouragement, even my Morris.


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


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


Back to this first time. Mr Jones was looking happy with my performance.
I sat up on the bed and asked, “Was that alright?”
“Well Bryan certainly enjoyed seeing his dog up you. Did it hurt when the knot went up?”
“Was that the big swelling that held him inside me?”
“That’s right.”
“No, not really, it was big, but once it was in I could hardly feel it.” I knew it was the kind of response that would make him mellow, and that usually would result in me getting an easier time.
“Put your fingers up, and pull it open for me.”
I did.


“How do you feel about a couple more fucks before bed time?”
“Shall I take the pillow out then?”
“Yes chuck it on the floor, that’s a good girl. Come on lads”
Mr Jones mounted first and I once again relaxed and started enjoying myself. He fucked me, and then when he rolled over exhausted, I climbed on top and fucked him, it was good.


I was then told that I had to try and cheer up Bryan, they helped him onto the bed, and I did my stuff. All the time I was grinning at him, because I knew I was now in control. When he was about to cum, I slowed the pace right down; I could see by his face he didn’t like this. I waited till he’d gone off the boil, and then sped up again. I did this several times and Bryan was getting more and more frustrated.
Then Mr Jones said, “See that Morris she’s getting to be a real expert. When our Bryan finally shoots it’ll be like a nuclear explosion. This’ll be the best fuck he’s ever had.”


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


When I’d calmed down, I carefully lifted myself off, but I was embarrassed to see the mess I’d made all over Bryan and the bed. I was even more embarrassed that fluid was still running from my cunt.
Mr Jones smiled and said, “That was good, you looked as though you enjoyed yourself.”
I smiled back, and nodded.
“Well be a good girl, and lick him clean.”
I thought I’d be sick, but I bent down and cautiously started licking. I felt the mattress on the bed sink and I realised Morris was climbing up behind me. I felt his knob end pushing at the opening of my cunt, up it slid. The more he pushed the more I licked, I was now on a roll again, and I couldn’t help myself, and I knew no shame. I was loving the fuck, but I was also licking deep into Bryan’s arse, sucking his balls, and finally bringing his prick back to erection, I forced it deep into my throat. I was developing a technique of taking a deep breath, and then forcing myself hard down. I could actually feel the helmet on his knob deep inside my neck. As Morris shot his load, he was pushing harder onto Bryan who shot straight into my belly from the opposite direction.


They both decided to leave there pricks in for a soak, and I ended up passing out, whether from exhaustion or lack of breath, I don’t know.
I came round laid on the bed in the usual spread open position with an audience of smiling faces, this was a position that I would come to think of as normal.
I got cleaned, we all chatted happily together, mostly about what a good fuck I’d been, and I seemed to be totally shameless. It was almost as though we were discussing an evening’s bridge.


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


I woke up smiling with a glow that I’ve never known before.
Morris and I had breakfast and I spent the day in my garden with Morris in view on the hill most of the time.


When I heard the familiar sound of Mr Jones coming up the lane on his tractor, I walked to the gate. As he approached with a big beaming smile, I could feel myself blushing.
“And how’s my little girl today?”
“Very well thank you. Would you like me to make you a nice cup of tea?” I asked.
“Thanks that would just go down a treat right now.”
I opened the gate, turned and started walking to the house. I felt an arm coming around my waist; it brought me to a halt. I waited, and then I felt the other hand sliding up in between my legs. I parted my legs, and slightly squatted to give him access. His fingers probed around, moving my gusset to one side, then his middle two fingers started going up and down. I stood there in broad daylight half way down my garden path squatting down with a scruffily dressed old welsh farmer poking away at my cunt. I couldn’t understand, somehow they had re-programmed me from a church going school teacher, that used to get sex once a month in bed with the lights out and only ever with my husband, into a shameless slut that would fuck any time any where with almost any one.



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


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


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


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


“Right that’ll do now, I’ve work to be done. I can’t spend all afternoon keeping you amused. Come on Blue, that cunt’ll still be there when we see Margaret next time.”
What a cheek, he was trying to make out I was the one that wanted it, and what did he mean about my cunt still being available later, was he bringing his dog back tonight to fuck me?


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


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


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


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


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


He got the dogs lead out of his pocket, and called, “Bruce.” The dog looked up, got up and slowly walked towards us.
“He looks sorry, doesn’t he?” I said.
The vicar had stood up, and I was sitting on the end of a wooden bench facing the approaching dog.
“I think he's calmed down now,” said the vicar holding the clip of the lead out in front of him for the dog to come and get fastened.


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


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


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


After a short while I thought I might as well sit up, I was still trying to push the dog off when the vicar came over to help me. It must have looked bizarre, me with a dog up my cunt and a vicar by my side.
I broke the silence, “Well I guess he'll calm down now.”
“I… I don’t know what to say Mrs King. He’s never done anything like this before.”
That’s alright, it wasn’t your fault, I suppose it must have just got the better of him.”
“I can’t believe your being so understanding. Only a true Christian could be that forgiving, and turn the other cheek. Are you hurt in any way, or is there anything I can do for you.”
“No not really, apart from the bang I got on the head when he knocked me down. I think we’ll just have to wait till his swelling goes down.”


“Does it hurt you?”
“No. Not really hurt, it’s just swollen inside me.”
“Would it help if I tried to pull it out?”
“I don’t know. Can you get your hands in?” I said pulling my skirt out of the way again, and opening my legs fully. With all my ballet exercises, when I say open fully, I mean open.
“My. Mrs King. I've never seen anyone open their legs like that before.” He said as he placed one hand around his dog’s dick, and the other under my cunt, and tried to pull them apart.


Just then Bryan arrived, and asked the vicar what had happened, the vicar explained, said he was trying to get the dog’s dick out. Bryan said that the quickest way was to turn the dog back on me and get him going.
“When he’s cum three of four times, the knot will disappear, and he’ll slip out no problem. If you don’t you could be here in four hours time waiting.”
The vicar looked at me, “I don’t know. Mrs King what do you think?”
“If it the only way, I suppose you’d better call him back up.”
I held my skirt out of the way, and the vicar was calling his dog. The dog wasn’t interested. I joined in, “Come on Bruce, come on, here boy.” I was calling and patting my belly to encourage the dog back on board.


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


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


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


He was now supporting my weight with both arms, his hands cupped under my belly; I could now feel that hard prick against the crack of my arse. I pretended to come round and lifted myself up on tip toes, till I could feel the top of his prick slip under my bottom. He immediately relaxed his grip and un-cupped his hands, to let me move away. I fainted again; he had to grip me again. But because I had caught him by surprise, he had rushed to stop me falling. He’d grabbed at the first this that he could reach, and that meant that his hands were now pushed hard into my crotch. I kept the faint going so that he couldn’t relax his grip.
When I came round this time I didn’t take my weight, I just leaned my head back, and said, “Oh I do feel faint, I’m so sorry to be such a nuisance.”
“Don't be silly my dear. I’m the one who’s sorry. Can I put you down somewhere, so that I can lift a bit easier?”
“Please just lift me up to your chest, and I’ll try and help by taking a bit of my weight.”
He gripped my crotch, and pulled hard, I gently eased some of my weight so he could lift me. My bottom slid up the length of his erection, and when I felt I was once again sitting on it, I said, “I think you should try walking me back to the house now.”
We made awkward slow progress, but his prick was getting a real good feel of my arse. By the time we got to the door he had a rock hard stonker, and I knew he would have a job to resist using it.



“Will you be alright now,” he said as he lowered me onto a kitchen chair.
“Well would I be imposing too much on you to ask for help up to my bedroom?”
“Of course not. If there’s anything I can do dear lady, please just ask. But how do you think I should lift you, to carry you up the stairs?”
“If I try and stand up, can you carry me over your shoulder, like a fireman?”
“We could give it a try.”


He helped me to my feet and bent down, pushing his shoulder against my belly. I leaned over him, and he started to stand upright, he had one hand on my ankle, the other on the outside of my skirt, on my bottom.
“I’m not sure I feel safe,” I said.
“Do you want me to put you down again?”
“No. But can you get a better grip with your right hand? You’ve only got hold of my skirt.”
“Where can I hold you?”
“Take hold of my leg. It’ll be alright, and I’ll feel safer.”
He put his hand on my leg at about knee level.
“Please don’t think me a baby, but I really would feel safer if you held me at the top of my leg.”
He didn’t say anything, but his hand went up. He stopped about six inches from my crotch.


And he started to walk towards the stairs.
When at the bottom he said, “Right well here goes then. Are you all right?”
“Can you just get another grip before you start?”
“Sorry am I holding too tight?”
“No, but can you reach higher?”
“Well if you’re sure.”
“Please, I’ll feel safer if I can feel you’ve got hold of me at the top.”
He didn’t reply, but his hand slid up, till I felt his fingers making contact with my lips. He then gripped tight on the top of my leg.
“Oh not so tight, just push your hand against me to take my weight.”
He relaxed his grip, and I felt him push his hand under my crotch.
“Is that what you mean?”
“Yes that’s a lot better, I feel nice and safe now.”


He climbed the stairs and carried me to my bedroom, my wet cunt sitting in his hand.
He bent forward and lowered me into a sitting position on the bed, and then withdrew his hand.
“Is there anything I can do before I leave you?”
“I don’t like to ask, but Jim isn’t here and I haven’t anyone else that can help me get cleaned up.”
“Just tell me what I need and what you want me to do?”
I asked him to get a bowl, a jug of warm water, soap, sponge, towel and a jar of Vaseline, all from the bathroom, and bring them here. When he returned, I explained that I was too week to go to the bathroom, or to stand whilst being washed, and didn’t want to get my bed wet. So I hope he wouldn’t feel too embarrassed, if I removed my skirt, and knelt with my legs astride the bowl so that he could wash me.


He was embarrassed, he went bright red, but he replied, “No I'm sure that’s the most sensible way we can do this.”
I slid my skirt off and lowered myself onto the floor, and spread across the bowl, with my bottom facing him. I couldn’t see, but I guess his eyes must have been popping out. I put my head down to the floor and my bottom was up.
“Ok you can start washing me now.”
He dipped the sponge in the warm water and started sponging on the top of my bottom. The water was running down everywhere.
“No. please not like that everywhere is getting soaked.”
“I’m sorry. How should I do it?”
“Put the soap in your hands, and work up a lather, the same as if you were going to wash your face. Then work it in round my bottom and underneath, round to my tummy. You know get me well soaped up.”
He started slowly, and each time the lather ran dry, he re-wet his hands and soaped up again. His hands were rubbing direct on my flesh. He was only just skimming the surface with his fingers whilst in the area of my cunt and arse, not wanting, or daring to go harder.


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


So I had to do something, “would you think I was very rude if I said that I had an irritation inside me where your dog had been pushing his thing.”
He almost choked on his words, “No it must have been awful for you, what can I do?”
“I don’t know how to ask.”
“Please. Just say. It’s entirely my fault anyway.”
“Can you push a couple of soapy fingers up and work them about a bit to see if it eases the irritation?”
I was now getting a good old fingering, and loving every moment.
As soon as I could feel my cunt starting its characteristic movements, I said, “Right, that should be enough; you can wet the sponge, wring it out and clean all the soap off now.” He didn’t speak, but just did as he was told. He then picked up the towel and gently patted me dry.
“Right I think you’re done now,” he said as he stood up.
“Only one more thing, if I can ask. Could you put some Vaseline on for me?”
He got back on his knees, put two of his fingers in the jar, and said, “Where do you want it rubbing?”
“You know, where your dog was.”
He started gently rubbing around the lips.
“Inside a bit please.”
He went inside.
“Further.”
He went deeper.
“Can you reach deeper? That's really helping.”
I could now feel his hand as he was pushing the full depth of his fingers in and out.
“Oh that’s real good. Have you got anything that will reach deeper?”


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


He looked sheepishly up at me and said, “Mrs King. Please. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Well looking at this sticky mess I guess I know who came over me!” I said as I sat there legs wide open running my fingers through the lines of spunk on my inner thigh.
“I really am sorry. How can I call myself a Christian?”
“Well even Christians are human, and I suppose it was asking too much to expect any man, even a vicar to keep his mind on the task in hand.”
“What can I do to say I’m sorry?”


“Well you could start by cleaning me up again.”
He got up and went to pick up the bowl.
“Don’t bother with that. I haven’t got the energy to get off the bed, and I don’t want you wetting my bed clothes.”
“Shall I wipe you with a cloth then?” He said.
“No that will make me sore. I think god would expect you to do some kind of penance for your sins. Come and lick me clean.”
He looked stunned.
“Oh I’m sorry! That’s too common for a high ranking man like you? I thought you said you wanted to make amen’s?” I barked sarcastically.
“Of course I’ll lick you if that’s what you want. I didn’t think you’d want me that close after what I’d just done.”
I lay back, lifted both legs up to my shoulders lifting my bottom clear of the bed.


“Come on lets see how sorry you are.”
He started licking at the base of my spine and working his way around the tops of my legs and up my lower belly to my navel. This took quite some time, and by now I thought he must be getting worked up again, I know I was. He looked up at me as if to ask if that was ok.
“I think you’ve missed a bit, or are you just saving the best till last?”
He didn’t reply, but started licking around my clit, my body reacted instantly. I was pushing down on him with each stroke of his tongue.
After a minute or so I could stand it no longer, I reached down grabbed hold of his head and pulled it up to my mouth saying, “Fuck me. Come on fuck me.” As his face reached mine I smothered him with kisses, as he was pushing it up for his second go. This time his pace was slower, and being laid on my back I could use my legs to control him better, I was now becoming a bit of an expert at this fucking business.


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

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


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


Thanks for reading, and please feel free to email me at Lord_John_Thomas@hotmail.com
It is only the feedback from readers that make the effort of writing worthwhile, and I will answer all mail received (eventually). I would particularly like to hear comments from Girls living in England. 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.
I will take this opportunity to apologise for miss-spelling, typos, and words used in the wrong context. My stories are written for people who like sexual fantasies, and I do not claim to have any literary skills. But if you do want to email me with any criticisms, this is also welcome, providing it is explained in a constructive manner. General terms like ‘Wouldn't have been so bad were you not half illiterate to judge by some of the spelling’ or ‘there are a number of spelling and grammatical errors’ are not constructive. If you can see the mistakes, email me direct, pointing them out. That way, perhaps I can improve my writing to the level that my next story might appeal to you.

davesmistress
09-30-2006, 03:48 PM
Thanks Jolly...thoguht Id bimp this up in case some other fols might have missed it...

davesmistress
11-20-2006, 02:36 AM
Thought Id bump this again...hahahahaha Enjoy....:)

davesmistress
04-30-2008, 05:05 PM
had alot of views..so Il give it a bump