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(MF,Mf-teen, rom, tort)
“You’ll be back, your type always does. Once a jailbird, always a jailbird.” Higgins stood by the gate like a fat slug, his spiteful voice echoing across the prison yard.
Higgins was typical of the screws in Wormwood Scrubs – cowardly halfbeats who had too much power. In a group I’ve seen them kick the shit out of an inmate. On their own, they wouldn’t last thirty seconds with any of the guys. I had just finished a five stretch for a little naughtiness and throughout Higgins had made it his mission to make life as tough as possible for me. I had been cool, not rising to his bad attitude – it pissed him off big time that I had received maximum remission. Things were different now I was out, he was in no position to hassle me. While he was a tub of lard, I was hard and fighting fit – you don’t survive inside if you can’t take care of yourself.
“Now listen to me you sack of shit,” I grabbed his lapels and pulled him close to me, “you had better watch your back because you’ve got payback due.”
His pasty face went white and he swallowed.
“I know where you live, you cunt, and one day I’ll be coming visiting. I may even give that wife of yours a good poking – I’m sure she’s gagging for a real man.”
A black Merc pulled up beside us, the horn beeping. It was Charlie with my ride back to the smoke.
“Ah, here’s my lift,” I smiled at Higgins, enjoying his look of surprise. I blew him a kiss.
“It’s been lovely chatting with you but I really must go. See you soon.” I waved cheerily to Higgins and hopped into the car.
“Hello Charlie, you old bastard, how’s it hanging?” I greeted him.
“Not bad old son,” he replied in his deep, gravely, voice. “Even better for seeing you. There’s a half bottle and some spliffs in the glove compartment, settle down and relax.”
I didn’t need asking twice. I took a deep slug of the scotch and lit a spliff.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
“Well old son, before we talk about work we need to get the ‘scrubs’ out of your circulation. I’ve sorted out a little flat in Greek Street for you. We’ll call in so you can shower and change, then it’s down to Barney’s for a scoff. I’ve sorted out a couple of birds to soothe your fevered brow later. Sound OK?”
“Sounds spot on,” I had to agree. Charlie knew what I liked. “I hope they ain’t crusty slappers, I don’t want a dose.”
“No problems mate. They’re a couple of students who work in the club bar. They happen also to be randy little bunnies and were more than happy to do a favour for me.”
“Students? What are they doing in the club?”
“Things have changed over the last five years. The poor kids have to pay all the fees of university courses. Most kids leave university thousands of quid in debt. The girls are using their earnings from the club to help they pay their way.”
“I suppose it’s those bastards in government screwing with peoples lives.” I snarled - I hated politicians.
Charlie nodded. “Got in one, son.”
“What’s score with the stash?” I asked. My five stretch had been the result of a bank job that Charlie and I had done. We had grabbed £500,000. Luckily Charlie hadn’t been caught.
“Safe as the crown jewels. I split it in two and put it in two Swiss banks. The money is stone cold and ready to spend.” He grinned. “I’ve spent a little buying you a nice little house out of town in Ongar. With the changes in the house market it’s already increased in price by £60,000. Not only a nice little earner but a little pied a terre. Oh, and by the way, I've stowed 100 grand in a safe in the flat. A little spending money.”
Charlie and I went back a long way. We had both been in the paras and had served in the Falklands. Charlie had copped an Argentinian bullet in his thigh and I carried him half a mile under fire to safety. I copped a medal for bravery and we became inseparable mates. After the army we teamed up and set up a little security firm. It was a nice front for our dodgier enterprises.
So what about me? Well I’m Henry Prescott, I’m 35, single and a hard bastard. My mates call me ‘sugar’ after Sugar Ray Robinson because of my handy fists. There’s nothing I enjoy more than a good ‘punch up’. This had all served me well inside. There were a few scum-bags who would try it on but they were all flabby. I firmly believe in the three S’s when fighting. Strength, Speed and Science. With those I took care of any of the fat bastards who had a go at me.
I had joined the parachute regiment as soon as I could, when I was 17. I had always been a hard kid and I lapped up the heavy training regime. The army was my life and the Falklands was the apex of my army career. They way we yomped across the island with fully loaded packs in time the kick the Argies’ arses showed that we were the finest fighting men in the world.
My army life came to a sudden end after a little bother with a shit head officer. We got a new lieutenant who thought he was the dog’s bollocks. He made a serious misjudgement of a situation during an exercise which resulted in the death of two guys and endangered the rest of us. The cunt then tried to blame the guys for his cock-up. I took him on one side one evening and put him in hospital for two months. The court-martial kicked me out of the army and gave me six months in Colchester jail.
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The flat was pretty decent with a big lounge, bedroom, bathroom and a kitchen. I wasn’t bothered about the kitchen, I don’t cook and the fridge is only needed to store beer. I dumped my clothes in the dustbin and grabbed a shave and hot shower. Charlie had sorted me some new gear and I was soon dressed for action in a charcoal grey suit, white shirt and black slip-on shoes - I always like to look smart. I slipped on a couple of chunky gold rings on my right hand – look good and cut up a bloke’s face nicely when I hit him.
Barney’s place was a restaurant in the West End called “Blowout”. Barney Meyer was a Jew from the East End and larger than life. His family had escaped from Germany during the war when Barney was a lad. He had grown up in the East End and although he spoke perfect English, it suited him to adopt a heavy foreign accent. He stood at 6 foot 6, weighed 16 stone and was built like a bear.
“Fucking hell sugar!” his voice boomed out as we entered the restaurant. “You look bloody pale.”
He grabbed me in a bear hug.
“And you’ve lost weight, you need a good feed.”
Food was Barney’s panacea for all ills. The restaurant was empty apart from a group of twenty of so people who took it in turns to greet me. Most of them were people I knew from the clubs in the area although there was a dodgy copper which Barney had on the payroll. It was good to be welcomed back.
The only two I didn’t recognise were a couple of young girls dressed in jeans and T shirts.
“Meet Jane and Sheila,” Charlie spoke in my ear. “These are the two ladies I told you about.”
“Hello girls,” I hugged them in turn, “it’s not to late to change your minds if you don’t fancy an old geezer like me.”
Both girls had been giving me the once over but it was Jane who replied first.
“From where I’m standing I’m rather looking forward to it.”
She was a lovely brunette with long wavy hair and a tight body. Her T shirt struggled to hide what looked like a 36C rack.
“Most of the blokes we meet are soft and inexperienced,” Sheila added. “I prefer an older man whose been around and knows what’s what.”
Sheila had ginger hair and a body of very similar proportions to Jane although her rack looked a touch larger.
“Excellent,” I replied, “I love women with ample attributes,” starting pointedly at their chests. “I think we will have fun.”
The food was excellent and the wine copious – Barney certainly knew how to entertain.
Afterwards, as I was relaxing with a cigar and brandy I took Barney on one side.
“So how’s business,” I asked.
“Terrible my boy, terrible.” He replied, with typical melodrama.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I replied in disbelief.
“No, its true. The yardie gangs are fucking London up. Drugs, prostitutes, murders everywhere.” He shrugged in despair. “The bastards have no style or manners strutting around with their ‘bling bling’. They ignore the established values and ethics of business. I tell you, sugar, if it wasn’t for the fact that my interests don’t really overlap with theirs, I would be a serious trouble.”
Barney paused and took a drink.
“I’m afraid I can’t say the same for your line of business. There are a lot of new faces in the security line. If I were you, I’d look outside the smoke for business opportunities.”
I was dubious about this, I liked London, there was always something going on. The idea of seeking gainful employment somewhere else wasn’t very exciting.
“Listen my boy,” Barney leant forward so he could speak quietly, “I have a little idea for a business enterprise we could set up. Give me a call in few days once you’ve settled back into normal life.”
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The party went on until late afternoon with pretty well everyone getting pissed – that is except for me, I had other fun in mind. Jane and Sheila came over to me.
“Great party, Mr Prescott, we’ve had fun,” Jane told me.
“Girls, my friends call me sugar. Now do you want to stay or go?”
“We thought you’d never ask,” Sheila piped up. “We’re ready for fun of a different flavour.”
We made our farewells and grabbed a cab.
Back at the flat I made coffee and we settled down in the lounge.
“Well girls, do you have to work tonight?”
“No,” they grinned, “Charlie has given us the weekend off. We’ve got our toothbrushes and clean panties in our handbags. He told us that you’re a bit of a sexual marathon man so we’ve come prepared of an overnight or two. We’re happy to stay as long as you want.”
“Tell me girls, why would you want to have rumpy pumpy with an old geezer like me?” I asked. I was unhappy that two respectable birds were prepared to offer unpaid sex.
“There’s no problem, sugar,” Sheila replied for them. “We really like sex and we weren’t joking when we said that the guys at college were hopeless. Most of the time they come within seconds of putting their cocks in.”
“We like Charlie, he’s been really nice to us. When he told us all about you and that you were being released we volunteered.” Jane jumped in. “He told us what you did for him in the Falklands and how close you were.”
I sighed inwardly. I wished he wouldn’t tell everyone what a great hero I was.
“Anyway, you look fit and you’re not too ugly. Think of it as our attempt to make an old man happy.” Jane grinned. “That is if you can stay the pace.”
I realised that I was taking things too seriously and that neither girl would do anything they didn’t want to.
“OK, point taken,” I held up my hands in defeat. “But less of the 'old man' stuff, OK?”
“Tell me about yourselves, where do you come from what are your college courses?”
“I’m from Bolton in Lancashire,” Jane replied. “I doing medicine.”
“I come from Bristol.” Sheila said. “We’re both on the same course.”
“Charlie told me you guys have to pay all your fees, is that right?” I asked.
“Yeah, it’s a real bummer. Medicine takes five years and even with a job we’ll end up owing over £20,000.” Sheila replied seriously.
“Can’t your parents help?”
“No, we both coming from ordinary working class families but not poor enough to get a grant.”
“Working in the evening must be tough, when do you get college work done?”
“Don’t ask.”
It didn’t seem fair on kids that they had to struggle so much to get an education. I then had an idea. I had a seriously large lump of cash in the bank waiting to be spent. Why shouldn’t I put it to a worthwhile use?
“Hang on a moment, girls,” I told 'em.
I went into the bedroom and dug out two wads of £30,000 from the safe. I went back into the lounge and sat down.
“OK girls, I have a proposition.” I handed them the cash. Their looks of surprise were priceless. “This will cover your education and some. I don’t want it repaying, but there are two conditions. One you must promise to stop working in the club or anywhere else. Second, I want you to get top grades.”
The girls looked at each other in disbelief.
“We can’t take this,” Jean protested.
I groaned with impatience. “Didn’t your parents tell you to always do what you’re told? Girls, I don’t have any kids and at my age I don’t expect to have any. I’m not poor by any means and I would really like to do this for you. Now make an old man happy and take the fucking cash – alright?”
“All right, if that’s the way you want to play it, thanks for the money,” Sheila smiled slyly, “but we want revenge. We are going to do our best to shag you until you beg for mercy. Now where’s the shower?”
I led the girls through to the bathroom.
Jean and Sheila began to undress.
“Come on then,” Jean called out, “You too. Showering together is fun.”
I was enjoying the view too much to strip. It was only then that I realised how much times had changed during my time inside.
“Your pants aren’t too big,” I told them as I saw their tiny thongs. “Isn’t it uncomfortable the way they ride up in your cracks?”
“No, these are thongs, they’re supposed to be worn this way.”
Both girls had tattoos across their lower backs, rings through their nipples and above their navels. Jean had the Tazmanian devil tattooed on her belly and Sheila had a red rose on her left tit. Both girls were completely shaven, their slits peeping cheekily at me from between their closed thighs.
“Jesus girls, I love the decorations.” I complimented them.
Both were now naked and I have to admit, they were tasty. They both had gravity defying tits which, although big, had a nice upward tilt. Their skins were smooth and flawless and their bodies hard and trim.
“Very nice bodies girls,” I told them.
“Thankyou kind sir,” Jean replied, curtseying, “I think you need some help with those clothes.”
I have to say its pretty nice having two tasty birds strip your clothes off you. I enjoyed every moment. Once done they stood back and gave me the once over.
“Shit,” Sheila exclaimed, “you look pretty damned good yourself. That is a seriously hard body. Love the six pack.”
“His cock isn’t bad either,” Jean added, grabbing my old man in her warm little hand.
We went into the shower cubicle and Sheila turned on the shower. There was just enough room for the three of us. You know, I’ve tried most things but I had never shared a shower with a couple of cuties. Their hands were everywhere. There wasn’t an inch of me that they didn’t lovingly soap. Naturally, I reciprocated. For the next twenty minutes the room resonated to the sound of moans of pleasure and giggling.
Dried off, we settled down on my bed and the girls set about giving me serious oral, taking it in turns to give both my cock and balls attention. As I began to submerge in pleasure a nasty thought crossed my mind.
“Girls, I haven’t had a chance to stock up on rubbers.”
They looked up in amusement.
“Have you got the clap or HIV?” Sheila asked.
“Nope. The only time that a con tried to use my ring-piece I tied his balls in a knot. I’m clean. In fact, apart from spanking the monkey, my tackle hasn't had serious use for nearly 4 years.”
“Well we don’t have anything nasty so I suggest we exchange bodily fluids to the max.”
“Anyway, I prefer skin on skin to rubber boots.” Jean added.
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After a few days I decided it was time to find something to occupy myself so I headed down to see Barney.
“Come in my boy,” he greeted me in his usual ebullient way. “Relax, have a drink.”
Barney poured two large scotches and offered me a cigar.
“Barney, you mentioned a possible business opportunity,” I decided to cut to the chase.
“Yes. Tell me, have you done any burglary?”
“No, it’s not normally my line,” I replied.
“Hmmm. I hear you have a place in Ongar?”
“Yep.”
“Nice and close to some very select villages with lots of wealthy residents.”
“OK, but?”
I was getting his drift but I wished he would get to the point.
“OK, here’s the deal.” Barney saw I was getting impatient. ”My son Solly is a first rate screwsman. He can break into any house. You set up a business doing gardening, decorating and building work. That will get you into people’s houses. You then case the place and identify choice antiques and any alarm systems. You then tip off Solly and he relieves the owners of their goods.”
“One problem there,” I replied. “I know nothing about antiques. I couldn't tell the difference between a Ming vase and a piss pot.”
“No problem. You get a digital camera and take photos of the inside of the houses. You then e-mail them to Solly. He’ll decide what to steal.”
“E-mail? What the fucks that?”
“Ah I forget, you’re a little behind developments. No problem, Solly will set you up with a PC and he’ll teach you how to use it. Simple. There’s a nice little market for antiques, we’ll make a killing.”
“We? Who’s we?” I asked.
“It was my idea so I’ll take 20%. You and Solly split the rest 50-50. How does that grab you?” Barney said, quick as a flash.
“We take all the risks. You get 5%.”
“How about 10%?” Barney came back.
“Deal!”
And that was that.
--------------
Over the next couple of weeks Solly and I were busy. He set up a PC and Internet link at my place. I spent time getting business cards printed, posting advertisements in local papers and buying tools and equipment.
Soon “S & S Services” were in business. (Solly and Sugar, get it?)
Before I headed off into the country I decided to make a little social visit to my old friend Higgins so I jumped into the Merc and drove down to Acton. Like most of the screws Higgins lived in a group of houses owned by the prison.
The door was answered by a thin, reasonably attractive blonde woman in the her thirties. She wore a simple skirt and blue sweater.
“Mrs Higgins?” I asked, “I’m Henry Prescott, an old friend of your husband.”
“I know who you are,” she replied, unsmiling, “come in.”
She led me into the kitchen.
“Would you like a coffee?” she asked. I nodded.
“I know you because my husband has a copy of your file upstairs.” She spoke over her shoulder as she filled the kitchen. “He has copies of all the inmates on his wing, he says it gives him an edge. Lets him on all the little dark secrets of the prisoners.”
What Higgins had done was illegal – he should not have had access to personal files let alone copy them. I made a mental note to grab them before I left. She put two mugs of coffee on the table and sat down beside me.
“I promised to look him up after I was released,” I explained.
“Why would you want to look up that fat bastard unless it was to give him a kicking?” she added vehemently.
“I take it you don’t like him much,” I observed.
“Like him! I’d like to kill the dickless cunt. Let me tell you what it’s like to be married to him. If I don’t have his meals ready on time or make a mistake, he beats me up. Look!”
She pulled up her sweater to reveal her belly and chest, they were marked with purple bruises.
“He gives me no money, he monitors all spending. He never takes me out. As for sex, that’s a joke. He has a small dick and with his big belly he can hardly put any of it inside me. Once, when we were fucking, I asked him if he had put it in because I couldn’t feel anything. He didn’t think much of that and beat me up! He doesn’t bother fucking me any more, I just have to give him blow jobs. Can you image what it’s like to suck a cock which has been tucked under his sweaty belly?”
I nodded sympathetically, I could never understand people who wouldn’t wash regularly.
“So why did you marry him?”
“Not really by choice,” she sighed. “One of his mates from work married my sister. I was stuck in a dead end job with no real prospects and I thought, in a moment of naïve stupidity that he might be a better prospect. I lived in Exeter – a dead end town. I wanted a bit of fun and marrying that cunt offered a chance of coming to London. That was ten years ago and I tell you now, its been a worse sentence than being locked up.”
“Why couldn’t I have married a bloke like you?” she asked, putting her hand on my thigh. “Smart, fit and in lovely condition. Do you know how long it is since I had a good fuck? Seven years! The only way I get my rocks off now is using my fingers – the tight bastard won’t even give me the money to buy a vibrator.”
“Why don’t you leave and go back to home?” I asked.
“I would if I had the money but the bastard won’t give me any and he won’t let me get a job.”
“How much do you need?”
“Enough for a train ticket to Exeter, about 40 quid. My sister would put me up until I got a job and a place to live”
I saw double prospects for revenge.
“You know Jill,” I had found out her name when I was inside, “I did come today to do a little damage to your old man, would you like to help?”
Jill grinned wolfishly, “just say how.”
“OK. First can you let me have the files he’s copied, I’m sure the Home Office will be interested in what he’s been up to. I don’t think he’ll have a job much longer once they find out.”
“Hang on,” she told me and rushed out of the room. She came back with a thick bundle of beige files. She dumped them on the table.
“Take them with my complements. Make sure you stuff the bastard.”
“Lovely stuff, thanks.” I put £500 on the table. ”Right, next, here are 500 notes, that should get you back to Exeter.”
“Thanks,” she replied, “that means a lot to me. I’ll pay you back.”
“No need, consider it a gift. Finally, how would you like a good shag?”
Her eyes opened wide with surprise.
“You don’t waste any time do you?”
To be honest, I rather liked Jill. She had bottle and she was quite a looker.
“Well, Jill, the way I see it, you’re gagging for a decent man, and I would rather like to be the one.”
“And get one over my old man at the same time?” she laughed.
“Well that’s an added secondary bonus,” I laughed back.
Jill stood up, hitched up her skirt, pulled off her panties and threw them on the table.
“Excellent idea.”
She stood only a couple of feet from me giving a perfect view of the blonde bush on her crotch.
“Ah a true blonde, lovely stuff,” I said.
I reached out and ran my hand down her belly and bush. Jill parted her legs allowing my hand to slip over her already moist cunt. Jill shivered with pleasure as my hand passed over her body.
“God, that feels good,” she sighed, pushing her crotch against my hand.
I responded by slipping in a couple of fingers inside her and began rubbing on her G spot.
“Oh shit, what are you doing?” she gasped.
“Just getting you in the mood.”
She pulled off her sweater and bra and threw them on the floor. Her tits were small and pert and her nipples were stiff. I lent forward and sucked on them. Jill sighed, cupping her hands behind my head and pulling my face against her chest.
“Let me have a look in your pants,” she gasped after a moment.
I stood up and allowed Jill to open my trousers. She had a look of excited anticipation as she eased my rock hard cock out of my pants.
“Oh yes, now that is what I call a cock,” Jill husked. “Sucking this will be a pleasure.”
She knelt down and began giving me seriously good head. She played some seriously good tunes on my pink flute. While it was nice, I wanted a shag.
“Up you get girl,” I told her, “I want to fill your other hole.”
Jill hopped onto the table and I fed myself into her. Because of Higgins’ lack of sexual attention Jill’s cunt was nice and tight and she gripped my old man nicely. With a firm thrust I bottomed out inside her. The look in Jill’s eyes spoke volumes – opening wider and wider as I filled her up.
“I bet your old man never managed to fill you like this,” I said.
“Forget that sad cunt, fuck me hard.”
Naturally I obliged pounding her with long, smooth strokes. Jill got into the rhythm, meeting my thrusts with a push of her pelvis. This wasn’t love and there was no finesse, just Jill getting rid of seven years of frustration.
Her first orgasm came quickly. Jill began shouting and moaning, her hands pulling and squeezing her tiny tits.
“Oh yes, fuck me. Harder,” she cried, “I want more.”
I had no problem with this, I still needed to come. It was damned fortunate that I’m so fit because this little lady was seriously hard toil.
Her second orgasm was also soon coming. This time I came filling her tiny cunt with my juice.
“What the fuck?” came a voice behind me. “What’s going on?”
Good old Higgins had come home.
Jill looked up.
“I’m getting a good shagging, now piss of and let me finish.”
Higgins gave a grunt of anger and began to cross the room and I pulled out my cock, my attention was needed elsewhere. With my pants around my ankles my mobility was limited. I needed to put Higgins out of action quickly. I chose the easiest option – I punched him in the balls. He collapsed in a heap in agony, gasping.
Jill had hopped off the table and clapped her hands in approval.
“Nice one, that’ll take his mind off sex for a while. Shall we go upstairs for another shag?”
I had to smile. Jill looked an amazing sight, her skirt around her waist, her sweater above her tits and spunk dribbling down her thighs.
“Go get changed and pack, I’ll give you a lift. We can always spend the night at my place before I take you to the station. Right now I want a word with your husband.”
“You’ve got a deal, lover, I’ll be five minutes.” Jill kissed my cheek and went upstairs. I pulled up my pants and fastened them before giving Higgins my full attention.
“Now then, Higgins, I told you I would come visiting.”
Higgins was sat up, red in the face and obviously in some pain.
“A couple of things I want to tell you about. Firstly, your misses is a lovely shag we both enjoyed it a great deal. Second she’s very kindly given me the files you had upstairs. I’ll be passing them on to the Home Office so I suggest you start looking for a new job.”
Higgin’s face was a picture.
“You can’t do that,” he gasped, “I’ll lose my job, what will I do?”
I can’t stand a whiner so I decided to give him telling off.
“Listen you cunt, I hate your sort. You’re a coward and a bully. You dish it out but can’t take it. Not only that, you’re the worst type of coward, you hit women. Well your missus has had enough and she’s leaving and won’t be coming back. She’ll be well shot of you and I’ll be checking to make sure you don’t bother her again. So far as your job, forget it, you’ve bullied your last inmate.”
I gave him a kick in the belly, picked up the files front the table and left the kitchen. Jill was waiting by the front door holding a suitcase.
“All sorted?” she asked with a smile.
“Well sorted, lets go.”
I grabbed her case and we left.
That night I gave Jill the shagging of a lifetime.
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Much to my surprise I quite liked living out in the country. The cottage Charlie had bought had a thatched roof and oozed character. It dated back 200 years and had low beams and genuine leaded windows. The previous owner had done it out nicely. Charlie had had some nancy-boy interior designer decorate and furnish the place and I installed a state of the art cinema system with a plasma screen - I’m a great fan of the movies.
I had been moved in a couple of days when the phone range early in the morning.
“Hello? I understand that you do gardening and other odd jobs.” It was a woman with an arrogant, posh voice. The sort of woman who didn’t take any bullshit from anyone.
“Yes we do,” I replied.
“Good. This is Mrs Warmington at the Grange. Please call around, I have some work to be done in the paddock. Be here in an hour.”
She rang off without waiting for a reply. Normally I would of told her to piss off but a woman like that would have plenty of cash and spare antiques.
The Grange turned out to be a large house just outside the village. I pulled up at the roadside outside. The house was set in several acres of land with stables and several outhouses. A long gravel drive led up to the house. Very nice.
I drove up the drive and rang the front door bell. The door was answered by maid.
“Mrs Warmington is in the paddock,” she told me and directed me to the back the house.
I spotted her saddling a horse. She looked about 30, a slim brunette dressed in jodhpurs, a white blouse and riding boots. Her jodhpurs fitted like a second skin and the absence of pantyline suggested that she was either wearing a thong or nothing under them.
“Mrs Warmington?” I called out.
She turned and fixed me with her deep green eyes. It felt as though she was stripping me naked.
“Ah, Mr…?”
“Prescott,” I completed her question.
“Right, Mr Prescott. I have some work that I would like you to do.”
“Fine, if you’ll tell me what it is, I’ll quote a price.”
“I’ll pay whatever the price is, I need some fence poles replacing,” She interrupted, pointing at the paddock fence. “I want it done this morning.”
It was disappointing that the work wasn’t inside but it was a good chance to get the word spread about my abilities. It was a fine summers day and I quite fancied a bit of hard work so I agreed. I drove back to the cottage to pick up some tools and timber and was back at the Grange within the hour. In all three posts needed replacing and reckoned it wouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.
I soon began to sweat and stripped off my shirt. It felt good to have the sun on my back. I had finished two posts and was on the third when I her the sound of a horse entering the paddock. Mrs Warminton had returned from her ride. Both she and her mount were breathing heavily and I guessed that she had ridden the beast hard. As she lifted her leg and dismounted I saw a dark patch in the crotch of her jodhpurs – whether it was sweat or something else was anyone’s guess.
She led the horse into it’s stall, removed the saddle and spent ten minutes brushing the horse before putting a blanket over it’s back. I was just completing the final post as she walked over to me.
“Nice work, Mr Prescott,” she spoke in a distinctly husky voice. “I see from your body that you look after yourself, I like that in a man.”
“I could say the same about you,” I replied seeing for the first time how busty she was. I guessed she had at least DD cup breasts but what was most interesting was that she wore no bra and her sweat soaked shirt clung to her skin.
“Are you in need of some exercise?” she asked, running her hand over my biceps.
“Sure, what do you have in mind?” I’m not stupid, I could see this lady was gagging for a shag.
She led me into any empty horse stall. We went inside.
“I love the smell of horses,” she husked. Her saddle was hanging over the half door. She sniffed the saddle. “And I love the smell of this, leather plus my own special juices.”
With a swift movement she pull off her shirt and pulled down her jodhpurs. As I suspected, her ladyship wore no panties. She leant forward so that her face was over the saddle.
“Fuck me!” she commanded.
The idea of sniffing a sweaty saddle didn’t excite me but the sight of her body was enough to give me a boner. I unzipped my jeans and slipped into her, smooth as you like. Her cunt was slopping with juice, her horse ride had obviously provided sufficient fore-play.
I began shagging her, hard with no finesse. With every thrust I bottomed out inside her and she gave a grunt of pleasure.
“Harder, hurt me,” she gasped.
Naturally I obliged and was gratified to feel her pushing back at me. She began moaning louder and started to lick at the saddle. I could sense that her orgasm was beginning to kick in and almost immediately as she began to shout and swear at the top of her voice. For an upper class lady she had a seriously encyclopaedic knowledge of obscenity.
I looked down to admire her nicely turned rear. I love the way a woman’s arse looks when you shagging her. Her cute little brown starfish winked at me each time I pushed in. I was wondered if she liked taking a cock up it when she came, loudly and violently.
She stopped moving almost immediately.
“Pull out!” she told me.
“What the fuck?” I gasped in disbelief.
“You heard, pull your cock out!”
I obliged and was about to fasten my pants when her ladyship spat into her hand and rubbed it into her butthole. She briefly pushed a finger in and out of her arsehole until she was satisfied it was suitably lubricated.
“OK, put it in my arse now.”
Naturally I obliged, pushing myself in firmly. She gave a gasp of pain and then began to moan. So commenced part two of our shag. It followed much of the pattern of the first part except this time she came with greater violence followed quickly by me filling her with my juice. Again, she had no sooner finished when she pulled away, put on her blouse and pulled up her jodhpurs.
“Thankyou, I am very pleased with the standard of your services, I shall tell my friends about you. If you’ll follow me to the house I will make out a cheque.” It was as though we had never had sex – bloody weird.
--------------
My experience with Mrs Warmington was all good fun but had done nothing to promote my felonious endeavours. Mind you, being paid to shag a bird is a bonus.
The next day the phone rang again.
“Mr Prescott? My name is Julia Stevens. I understand from Patricia Warmington that you undertake home repairs and other jobs. She told me that the quality of your work is first class.”
I was gratified that my honest efforts were appreciated. It looked like my business was beginning to take off.
“What can I do for you, Mrs Stevens?” I asked.
“I have an urgent job that needs your special skills. Can you come around to my house this morning? I live in the Old Vicarage. It’s the large Georgian house in Church Lane.”
“No problem, I’ll be around in ten minutes,” I knew where the house was.
The door was answered by a somewhat overweight, ginger haired woman in her thirties.
“Ah, Mr Prescott, please come in. My name is Julia.” She had a refined but pleasant voice with none of the arrogance of Patricia.
She led me into the lounge, where a young girl was sitting on the couch.
“This is my daughter, Ginette.” She nodded towards the girl. “Say hello to Mr Prescott, my dear.”
The girl stood shyly and held out her hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said in a quiet voice.
Her hand was tiny and damp with sweat. The girl seemed frightened about something.
A maid brought in a tray and served coffee before leaving.
I took a sip of the fragrant brew before speaking.
“What can I do for you, Julia?”
The reply was both unexpected and staggering.
“I want you to take my daughter’s virginity.”
Ginette’s face went red and I nearly dropped my cup.
“Pardon?” I asked, not believing my ears.
“I want you to teach my daughter all about sex. Everything. That includes practical demonstrations including oral and anal.”
“No, mother, not that. I don’t want to do that.” Ginette gasped in dismay.
“Nonsense girl, it won’t hurt you.”
“Are you sure your daughter wants this?” I asked. “She looks unhappy.”
“The girl simply doesn’t know what’s good for her.”
“Why do you want to do this?”
“Ginette is seventeen. The same age as I was when I became pregnant with her. It happened one night after a dance in my boyfriend’s car. I didn’t know what I was doing, nor did he. He came before he managed to break my hymen – you could say it was a virgin conception. I brought Ginette up for the first seven years of her life and sacrificed any chance of further education. I don’t want that to happen to Ginette. You’re probably wondering why it is that I live in this nice house. Well I met and married an IT consultant who was content to accept a ready made family.”
“I’ll only do this if Ginette is completely happy,” I replied. “I’m not a rapist.”
“Ginette is happy, aren’t you?” she glared at her daughter. Ginette swallowed and nodded. Julia left the room only to return with her coat and bag.
“I have meetings to attend to today so you can have the house to yourselves to do what’s necessary. Oh, and by the way, there’s no need for condoms, Ginette is on the pill.”
“Hang on,” I stood and turned to face her. “She may not get pregnant but how do you know I don’t have HIV, herpes, hepatitis or other STDs?”
“Patricia was happy to fuck you unprotected and I trust her judgement. Anyway, do you have any STDs?”
“No I don’t but it’s not very good sex education for your daughter if you’re prepared to take chances.”
She left without another word and I sat down on the couch next to Ginette. The girl was very attractive and dressed in the typical clothes of her generation, jeans, a white tee shirt and white socks. Her ginger hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She looked a little over-weight but I suspected that this was more puppy fat than anything. Her T shirt did little to hide her ample tits.
“Let’s talk for a while,” I told her. She nodded, looking down rather than at me. “Do I frighten you?”
“A little,” she whispered.
“Are you very shy?”
She nodded.
“Do you have a boyfriend.”
She shook her head.
“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”
Again she shook her head.
“You know we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” I told her again.
“You don’t know my mum. She never takes no for an answer.”
“So what is the worst that can happen if we don’t do anything?”
“She’ll find someone else to do it.”
So the question was whether she preferred to have me fuck her rather than someone else who might be less understanding. I needed to convince her that I was one of the good guys. I held out my hand.
“Take my hand, Ginette.” Hesitantly she put her hand in mine. I placed my other hand on top and gently stroked the back of her hand. “Look at me, Ginette.” Again she hesitated before meeting my gaze. “Do you believe me when I tell you that I would do nothing to hurt you in any way?”
She paused a long moment.
“I suppose I do,” unconvinced.
“Let me tell you about myself and then I’ll ask you again.”
I told Ginette my history, all the things I’d done, all the things I believed in. The whole time I held her hand gently, giving her the opportunity to pull away at any time.
“I admit that I’ve done some nasty things in my life to some nasty people. In every case the people deserved it. I never do anything nasty to people who don’t deserve it or who aren’t able to defend themselves. I’ll ask you again, do you trust me.”
“Yes,” she replied,” her voice a little firmer.
“OK, tell me about yourself.”
“Why?”
“Its nice to chat, helps me get to know you, helps you to unwind. What do you like to do? What are your hobbies?”
“Not much. I like to read, I have a dog which enjoys a long walk, I watch TV.”
“Music? Do you like boy bands.”
Ginette made a face.
“Uggh, no! I like proper musicians, people to don’t just sing silly little songs. I like The Coral and The Datsuns.”
“Do you like to go to concerts?” All these names were meaningless to me but I tried to show interest.
“I wish! Mum won’t let me. I would like to go to Glastonbury but she won’t let me.”
“What about friends? Who are your best mates?”
“I don’t have many friends, I find it difficult to make them. My best friend is Sally Warmington, you know, Patricia’s daughter.”
“I didn’t meet her,” I told Ginette.
“Did you fuck her mum?”
I hesitated, not wanting to spook the girl.
“Don’t worry, she has a reputation,” Ginette added, giggling. “Sally says that she’ll go with anything in trousers.”
“And what do you think about boys?”
“I would like a boyfriend but the boys at school are so nasty.”
“How?”
“Well they tease me and call me names. They say I’m fat and ugly.” Ginette’s lips quivered as she spoke and her eyes filled with tears. It seemed a shame that the kids didn’t realise how much their taunts hurt the girl. Ginette began to cry and I held her against my shoulder, offering comfort.
“Hey girl, don’t let it upset you, you know its not true,” I told her.
“But I am fat,” she sobbed.
“You may not be as thin as some but that doesn’t mean you’re ugly,” I told her. “If it means anything, I think you’re a very pretty girl.”
She looked up giving a slight smile. “Really? Do you think so? No you’re making that up.”
I sighed, she wasn’t making things easy.
“Alright, you tell me what makes someone ugly and what makes someone pretty and who decides.”
“Well fat people are ugly.” She replied after a long pause for thought.
“But what is fat? How fat does someone need to be to be ugly?”
Ginette was silent for a long pause, struggling to come up with an answer. Finally she said “I don’t know.”
“Of course you don’t, that’s because there are no absolute standards. No one has a right to say that you’re ugly any more than anyone can say that about me. The reason they do it is because they know you can’t defend yourself. Believe me, you aren’t ugly.”
“Thankyou Mr Prescott,” Ginette smiled and gave me a kiss. She then snuggled down with her head on my shoulder and I put my arm around her and gave her a hug.
“Mmm… that’s nice,” she whispered.
“Don’t your parents give you cuddles?” I asked.
“No. When it comes to affection mum and dad aren’t the most demonstrative parents around. It interferes with their social activities. And believe me, nothing can be allowed to interfere with that.”
“Nice!” I replied, expressing some solidarity for down-trodden children. “So what about sex Ginette?”
“What about it?”
“Well, what do you think about sex?”
“Well, Sally and I talk about it a lot. She once saw her mum playing with herself. She was lying on the bed and had stuck a vibrator up her bottom and was pushing another into her cunt. She was moaning and screaming. Sally said it was unbelievable, she couldn’t understand how she enjoyed shoving something up her bottom. Do you understand it? Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Well, some women enjoy having things pushed into their bottoms. It does hurt if you’re not careful but with lots of lubrication and patience it doesn’t have to hurt. Do you or Sally play with yourselves.”
“Oh really, that’s a little personal,” Ginette retorted with a hint of a laugh.
“I won’t tell your mum,” I reassured her.
“OK. I often stay over at Sally’s house. She has a big room with a double bed so I share with her. That means that we’ve seen each other nude and we have tried a few things.”
“What sort of things?”
“Oh, we rub each other’s chests, you know, our tits. We also rub each other between our legs.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Oh yes, very much. We also practise kissing. Can I show you?”
She didn’t wait for my answer, giving me another, rather more intense kiss. In fact it was a very pleasant kiss although a little inexperienced and chaste. I pulled back.
“Very nice but I think you can learn more. Lets try again but this time let your lips relax and follow my lead.”
This time her lips were slightly open, waiting for my attention. I began gently kissing her, no tongues just moving my lips against hers, tantalising her nerve endings. I sensed her interest awaken, the light breath exhaled through her nose quickened slightly, I felt pressure as she pushed against me. I began to use my tongue, first on the inside of her lips and then, as she opened her mouth, against her teeth. Ginette gave a sigh of pleasure at my intrusion and her own tongue came to meet mine. We played a gentle game of tongue ‘hide and seek’ for a few seconds before, feeling the moment was right, I began giving her a deep French kiss. Ginette’s hands flew to the back of my head and she kissed back with sudden passion.
Finally we broke apart. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright and her mouth slightly open as she breathed heavily.
“Oh Mr Prescott!! That was amazing. You’ve made me go all strange inside.”
As I sat back I could see her nipples had become erect, pushing against her T shirt. Ginette, seeing my gaze looked down. With a reflex squeak of alarm her hands covered her tits. I grinned.
“My friends call me “sugar”, I told her, ”See what a kiss can do? Tell me, what other effects has it had.”
Ginette blushed. “I feel warm and damp between my legs, just like when I masturbate.”
The time was right for the second part of the lesson.
“Ginette, do you feel ready to go upstairs?” I asked.
“Yes, please,” she replied without hesitation and taking my hand led me upstairs to a large bedroom containing a king sized double bed.
“If mother wants me to have sex lessons I think it only proper that we use her bed,” Ginette said, with a wicked look on her face. I couldn’t fault her logic.
Ginette stood, her back to the bed, waiting, uncertain as what would happen next.
“OK, Ginette, lesson two.” I began. “Good sex takes time. The trick is to take your time and enjoy every moment. Now I want you to do nothing, just enjoy everything I do, OK?”
Ginette nodded with a smile.
I reached forward and unfastened her jeans. Slowly, I slid them down Ginette’s legs to her ankles. She lifted each foot in turn, allowing me to take off her jeans. I threw the jeans onto a chair looked at her. Ginette’s face was slightly flushed and she was gnawing at her lip with embarrassment. I love ginger haired women, almost invariably they have pale, translucent skin and freckles. Ginette was no exception, her smooth, naked legs were beautifully pale. She wore plain white cotton panties.
“Very nice,” I complemented her. Ginette gave a small smile. “Are you ticklish?” I asked.
“No.” she replied.
I told her to sit on the bed and I peeled off one of her socks. I took her foot in my hand and kissed it.
“Don’t,” she gasped, “I have smelly feet.”
“No you don’t.” I told her. “Tell me, do you shower every day?”
“I prefer a bath but yes I bathe every day.”
“Well, in my opinion people who bathe every day don’t get smelly. Certainly the body acquires a degree of scent during the day but in my experience it is not repugnant. In the case of a woman, I find a certain amount of natural scent very attractive.”
I resumed my ministrations of her foot, gently kissing, licking and sucking. Her foot had a slight sweatiness from being inside her sock and had a delicate smell of soap and sweat. I glanced up to see that Ginette had closed her eyes. Her face showed every sign of someone experiencing great pleasure. She had slipped on hand inside her T shirt and was massaging one of her tits.
I removed the sock from her other foot and repeated the process. Slowly, inch by inch, I moved up her legs, massaging and kissing, looking for all those little erogenous zones that women have. Soon I reached her panties. Her panty crotch was dark with moisture and there was a fabulous smell of excited woman. If they could bottle that smell as a perfume they would make a fortune.
I planted a kiss on the bulge over her clit.
Ginette gave a little jump and gasped, “Oh my god!” I was pleased that she didn’t complain that she was worried she smelled nasty – she was learning.
I peeled her panties down, first revealing her pale stomach and then her bright ginger bush – beautiful! Ginette lifted her rear off the bed leaving it easy for me to pull off her panties. As I did, she sat up and peeled off her T shirt, leaving her naked and looking fabulous. Her breasts had that softness and elasticity that only youth can provide. Large but pert, she had wide, pink nipples. Her chest was a forest of freckles which spread down to her breasts. The image was completed by two tufts of ginger hair under her arm pits.
“I tried shaving but I got a really nasty rash so I stopped. Do you mind?” She asked, noticing where I was looking.
“Not at all, my girl. I love a natural look.”
Although I had enjoyed my session with Jean and Sheila I was an old fashioned guy – I liked my women unshaved. I guessed it was time to show Ginette what she was in for and I stripped off. My “old man” was seriously interested and was standing fully to attention. Ginette’s eyes opened wide when she saw my boner.
“Am I going to fit that inside me?” she asked.
“You’d be surprised what you can do,” I assured her before kneeling down to give her some head.
Ginette spread her legs wide – the girl was learning fast – giving me full access to her ginger nest. I began on her outer thighs, working in slowly to her clit and oozing cunt. In my experience many women have sensitive clits and don’t enjoy having it stimulated until they are aroused. By the time I reached Ginette’s, she was moaning and gasping. She tasted sweet! A beautiful mix of salty juices, musk and the slightest hint of piss – pure nectar.
I moved up her body, taking time to nuzzle her gorgeous tits. The nice thing about the missionary position that it is usually easy to slip your cock in without using a hand to guide it. I hoped that this way I could slip into Ginette without too much fuss. Ginette spread her legs allowing me full access to her crotch. As I kissed her I felt my cock slide partly into her until stopped by her hymen. Ginette realised what happen and pushed her lower body up. With a slight pop I slid inside her.
She was so tight and moist that I almost came immediately. Exercising many years of experience of self control I was able to bring matters under control. I was only two thirds inside her so my first task was to help Ginette open up. I made long, slow strokes in and out, watching the expressions of surprise and pleasure on her face as I gradually stretched her cunt. Finally I was fully buried and I could get to work.
I must say Ginette took to fucking like a duck to water. She meet every thrust by a push of her body, ending with a sort of sideway movement as her clit ground against my body. We took our time – there was no rush – teasing every sensation from the friction between our bodies. Ginette’s face, neck and upper chest was flushed red and she began gasping and moaning.
“Oh fuck… I’m dying… harder!! This is fantastic…”
I knew how she felt and cranked up a gear. That did the trick and with a frenzy of moans and cries and the sound of slapping flesh Ginette came, followed rapidly by me. Her face was a picture as she came, her eyes wide open with a combination of surprise, wonder and lust, first from her orgasm and then the feeling of me filling her with a huge amount of gism.
“Oh, sugar, that was unbelievable. I’m a real woman now.” Ginette told me after we had regained our breath. “I feel warm and wet inside. My bum feels wet”
“That’s the down side of sex,” I explained, “what goes up, must come out.”
“I don’t mind, I like being filled up with your stuff. Anyway, mum’s counterpane will mop it up.”
She shifted to one side trevealing a large wet pink patch on the white counterpane. Guessed the pink was from a slight amount of blood from her torn hymen.
“Do you know, my mum and I had a huge row when she first told me that she planned to have some stranger break me in. I told her I didn’t want some old bloke putting his hands on me.”
“Thanks a lot,” I replied in mock protest. “Actually, I don’t blame you. You mum was taking a big risk by asking someone she doesn’t know to have sex with you. I still don’t understand why you agreed.”
“My mum likes to tell everyone how she’s had to struggle alone to bring me up and how worthwhile it has been. Really it’s a load of bollocks. She hated having me to look after – I messed up her life. My mum is a bully. If I don’t do what she wants she’ll happily beat me up and if that doesn’t work, she’d be quite happy to throw me out. She always gets what she wants. You know, when I first saw you my heart sank.”
“You’re too kind, kid,” – more mock protest.
“No, hear me out. It wasn’t how you looked, it was the idea of some as old as my mum doing really private things to me. It made my skin crawl. But the way its turned out is beyond my wildest hopes.”
Ginette rolled over on top of me, her warm, soft tits pressing against my chest, and kissed me.
“I want to thank you for a lovely experience.”
“Don’t mention it, the feeling is completely mutual.” I was really taken by this girl. If she had been ten years older I could see me falling for her big time.
Ginette rolled off me and planted a kiss on the head of my “old man”.
Naturally my cock twitched and began to harden.
“Oh, did I just do that?” Ginette whispered. “What will another kiss do?”
Of course she had to give another kiss, bringing my old man to attention.
“Sally told me about how to give oral sex, do you mind if I give it a try?” Ginette asked.
“Be my guest, you seem to be doing well so far.”
In spite of it being coated with our combined juices, Ginette began licking and sucking my cock. True her technique was hesitant but the thought of me being sucked off by a sweet little thing like her was a huge turn on. Ginette sensed my arousal and became bolder working my cock harder and even trying deep throat.
I could feel that well known tightening behind my balls and being a gentleman I gave a warning.
“Ginette, if you don’t stop soon you’re going to get a mouthful.”
Her response was to suck harder and within seconds I was blasting my juice into her gorgeous mouth. After my last squirt Ginette pulled back, her mouth full, seeming not to know what to do next.
“The question is whether you spit of swallow,” I told her.
Ginette swallowed and smiled with pleasure.
“Hmmm, tasty. Sally told me that it’s good for the skin.”
---------
Later we lay, still naked, on the bed, enjoying a coffee.
“Sugar, mum said something about teaching me anal sex.” Ginette began tentatively.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. I’ve had loads of fun so far but I don’t know that I want to try that yet.”
“My advice is that we leave it for now. Anal might work for you but it does need to be done carefully and preparation is important, if not it can be painful. Just tell your mum that we did it and it hurt horribly, you never know, it might make her feel guilty. You can always try it another time when you feel ready.”
“Cool,” she replied, turning to face me. “In the meantime, I have another hole which needs more work on. Can you oblige?”
I looked down to see that my “old man” was standing nicely to attention.
“I think that might be possible, what do you think?”
In truth, it was two hours and two further shags before I was able to get dressed and leave. Ginette was like a child who had found a new toy and couldn’t get enough of it.
“I hope you’re not turning into a sex addict,” I told her.
“No, sugar, it’s just the way you do it and how you make me feel.” She said with a fierce intensity.
I had a nasty feeling things might be complicated. I thought she was a smashing kid who had a seriously sexy body but I was old enough to be her old man.
“When can I see you again?” she asked. Ooops here came trouble.
“Listen Ginette, you can’t keep seeing a bloke like me. You need a boyfriend you own age.”
“I agree,” she replied. My mouth fell open in shock. “I do want a boyfriend to go out with but when it comes to sex I need you. Someone who knows how to do it properly. You don’t need to worry about me having a crush on you, you’re a lovely bloke but I’m not about to fall in love.”
“Well, if that’s the way you see it, I’m sure we can come to an arrangement, but your mother need not know.”
“Oh I agree, I wouldn’t tell her the time of day.”
I left Ginette my business card and asked her to tell her mother to drop off the cheque at my cottage.
---------
Much to my relief over the next couple of months I had a number of decorating and building jobs which meant I could get down to my primary business of larceny. It was all very simple, I would case the houses taking loads of photographs with my digital camera. I would then e-mail the shots to Solly who would then relieve the owners of their possessions. Over the next four months, five of my customers were robbed.
Naturally there was a lot of comment in the local newspaper about the outbreak of crime. As expected the police easily spotted that I was a common factor and I had a visit from Inspector Rawlings of the local plod.
“Come on Prescott, we know you’ve involved. First you’ve got form and second you been in each of the houses. You’ve had plenty of chance to case the houses and break in.” he began in a faux-friendly manner.
“If you check my record you’ll know that I’m not in the housebreaking trade – it’s a mugs game played by young yobs.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t fancy a change of career. These break-ins have netted £900,000 – not exactly juvenile stuff. Here’s a list of dates and times, where were you on these occasions?”
Naturally because Solly did the jobs I had rock solid alibis with unimpeachable people. Rawlings was not a happy bunny and went off soon after making meaningless threats about keeping an eye on me.
The next day I went into town and saw Solly.
“Things have gone very nicely sugar, the stuff from the jobs have netted £300,000 top price.” He grinned, sipping a large scotch.
“Do you know what those cunts are claiming from the insurance? £900,000. And they call the likes of me and you criminals? Anyway old son, we might have a touch of bother.”
I told him about the visit from Rawlings.
“The likes of Rawlings don’t worry me, the problem is that with a small place like the village the odds against us increase with every job.” I told him.
“Yeah, I agree. I reckon that £135,000 each is good return for a few month’s dishonest toil. I suggest that S & S services is dissolved with immediate effect. Here’s a cheque for your cut.”
We shook hands.
“Nice doing business with you,” I grinned.
“Likewise.”
----------
I quite liked the little cottage and decided to live there a while longer until I decided on the next step. When I got to the cottage there was a message on the answer-phone from Julia Stevens asking me to call her.
“Ah, Mr Prescott, could you call in at my house – you’ll find it beneficial.”
I agreed and jumped into the car.
Julia Stevens answered the door and led me into the lounge. Patricia Warmington and three of my other customers were sat waiting.
“I won’t beat around the bush, Mr Prescott,” Julia began. “I told you that my husband is an IT consultant, well I had some suspicions about the recent burglaries and I asked my husband to do some research. Do you know what he found?”
I looked at her blankly.
“Well first of all I have a print-out of your criminal record. You’ve been a naughty person, haven’t you? Next, he planted a worm in your PC. In case you don’t understand, it was a small programme attached to an e-mail I sent you. The worm sat on your computer and sent me details of what was on your PC and all your e-mails. I have copies of all your little photographs and messages to Mr Solly Meyer.
“So what do you plan to do?“ I asked, hearing a gong of doom in my mind.
“That depends you,” Patricia Warmington interrupted. “The loss of the stolen items are of no real concern, the insurance covers them nicely.”
“Oh yeah, a three fold mark-up I hear,” I couldn’t resist feeling bitter.
“That is the least of your problems,” she continued, ignoring my interruption, “we could quite easily pass our dossier of evidence to the police. Alternative you could continue to provide us with your services. You have already proven your credentials to me and Ginette, the other ladies have requirements of you.”
To quote the old sage – they had me by the balls. I nodded in reluctant acquiescence.
“What do you want?” I sighed.
“You are going to provide the five of us here with your personal services on an exclusive basis. So long as you perform to adequate standard my little dossier will stay in a safe place.”
I looked at the women in the room. First there was Mrs Ackroyd, a thin caustic woman who had treated me with contempt when I had decorated her bathroom. I guessed she was in her mid forties but she looked older. Jean Hamilton was the local district nurse. Early thirties she was overweight and single. Last was Wendy Jones. She was a timid, mousy woman in her mid 30’s. I quite liked her and was surprised to see her in the room. I guessed that the others had bullied her into it.
“OK, what do you want me to do and when?”
“Follow me,” Julia Stevens told me and led the way downstairs to the basement.
The room was large and empty apart from a wooden contraption which looked like a vaulting horse with a bench attached to it. A video camera had been set up on a tripod.
“Undress,” Julia told me.
I obliged and was led naked over to the contraption. Swiftly the women bent me over and shackled me to the device. I was firmly fixed with my tender ring-piece exposed to the air. Mrs Ackroyd stood in my view holding up a strap-on dildoe.
“Do you know what this is?” she asked. “It’s a special toy designed to give maximum pleasure. See this curved piece, well when I put it on it will slide nicely inside me. This means that when I use the toy, my clitoris and G-spot will be massaged thoroughly with every push.”
She peeled off her clothes, revealing an scrawny, unattractive body. Her pubic area was shaven. She strapped on the dildoe, smiling with pleasure as she pushed it into herself. Once the straps were tight she took a tube of KY and lubed up the 10 inch plastic cock.
“Its play time,” she grinned and walked behind me.
I shuddered in anticipation knowing what was to happen next. I felt the cold touch of the dildoe against my ring-piece followed by an agonising pain as she pushed the cock deep into my butt. She didn’t stop until the entire length was inside. I groaned in pain.
“Feel nice hmmm?” she asked as she began to fuck my arse.
I saw the huge pink form of Jean Hamilton walk into view. She was naked and blubbery. She laid face down on the bench and shuffled back until my mouth was level with her butt hole. The smell of her crotch was sweaty and sour. I felt a hand on the back of my head and my face was pushed forward forcing my nose and mouth between her fat cheeks. The smell and taste of her sweat and other things flooded my senses. All along my arse was being fiercely reamed.
“Jean needs a wash,” I heard Julia tell me. “Lick her out!”
I had no choice and I began to lick Jean’s filthy arsehole. Slimy with sweat, it opened as she relaxed allowing my tongue to taste the nasty, gritty, filth inside her opening. Then she farted. Long, hot and rancid, I smelled the very core of her disgusting body. The women in the room laughed as they heard the sound of the fart. My head was pushed hard and deeply into Jean’s crack, her sweaty cheeks sealing against my face, cutting off my supply of air. I struggled to move my face to get a breath but I was held too firmly. My lungs burned and my heart pounded. I felt the world recede.
Suddenly my hair was grabbed and my head pulled back. I took a frantic breath of air.
“Still with us?” I heard Julia’s mocking voice. “Jean needs an orgasm.”
Jean had rolled over and was now offering her cunt for my attention. My head was pushed forwards and I began servicing her clit. Her cunt had an ammoniacal smell like rotten fish but I had no alternative but to obey.
Mrs Ackroyd was moaning and gasping as she pounded at my arse. I felt no pain any more, just a numbness. I shuddered at the thought of the damage she was doing to me. Jean had begun bucking her hips and shouting at me.
“Suck harder you shit… make me cum…”
At one stage I heard Ginette’s voice.
“What are you doing to him?” she sounded shocked and upset.
“Did you know that Mr Prescott has been stealing from all of us? We’re teaching him a lesson.” Ginette’s mother spoke.
Ginette walked into view, her face was pale. She must have seen the huge strap-on being forced in and out of my arse. Julia went on to explain what had happened and all about her little dossier.
“I don’t care what you think he did, what you’re doing is sick.” She gasped and rushed from the room.
“Get over it!” Julia shouted laughing at the girl’s reaction.
With a huge shudder Jean climaxed and slumped back. Moments later Mrs Ackroyd pulled out the dildoe and also subsided with pleasure. My arse throbbed and my mouth was full of the taste of stale cunt. Julia Stevens opened a bottle of wine and handed glasses to her cronies.
“OK, what’s next?” she asked. “Wendy, what would you like? A little insemination?”
“Oooo yes,” Wendy gasped with excitement. “Do you think he could do it?”
“I’m sure his has lots of strong juice,” Patricia spoke. “Let’s turn him over.”
Julia held a knife to my throat. “No trouble now!” she hissed. My shackles were unfastened and I was forced to turn over onto my back. I was then fastened down again.
“Wendy has a problem,” Julia brought her face close to mine. “Her husband has a low sperm count and she’s too old to get artificial insemination. Maybe you can do the business.
My old man was utterly limp, a point not missed by Patricia.
“He needs some help,” she grinned and took my cock into her mouth. In spite of my sore arse and general discomfort, her mouth worked magic. Sucking gently she worked my cock up to full length in seconds.
“OK Wendy, all yours.”
Wendy pulled off her dress and stood in a white bra and white cotton panties, looking at me uncertainly.
“Go on,” Patricia urged her, “before he wilts.
Biting her lip, Wendy tugged down her panties and climbed onto the bench. Standing astride me she lowered her crotch onto me. Patricia helpfully held my cock upright so that it slipped into her tight but very wet cunt. Wendy lid down until she sat on me with my cock fully buried inside her. She gave a smile of pleasure.
I have to say that woman had the hairiest cunt I had ever seen. Her bush spread across her lower belly, up to her navel and over the tops of her thighs. She pulled her bra over her head revealing her plump tits and bushy pits.
“I want you to fill me with your juice,” she told me in her quiet voice, and began to grind her crotch against me. With amazing skill she rotated and thrust her pelvis, easing me in and out and filling my cock with wonderful sensation.
“Oh yes you fucking bastard, fuck my cunt. I want your juice.”
In spite of my predicament I came violently, filling her with my juice.
“Oh yessss!” she hissed as she felt my warm juice wash into her body.
Wendy carefully slid her hand over her cunt as she climbed off.
“Mustn't let it drip out, must we?” she smiled.
The evenings “entertainment” continued for a few more hours. I won't bore you with the details but needless to say, it was very nasty for me. Finally I felt my shackles being unfastened.
“OK, get dressed and piss off,” Patricia snarled. “And don't think about leaving the village or we'll be talking to the police.”
I left.
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I was awoken by the door bell. Muttering darkly I looked at the clock. Eight o’ clock! I climbed out of bed, my abused arse-hole throbbed painfully, my back and rear were a mass of agony and I smelled like a thousand pissholes. I pulled on my dressing gown.
I answered the door. It was Ginette. She had a rucksack over her shoulder.
“Jesus sugar, you look like shit!” she exclaimed.
“Tell me about it! Come in girl.”
I made coffee and we sat down.
“How are you feeling?” Ginette asked.
“Very sore and badly used,” I replied.
“Yeah and you stink, did you wet yourself?”
“No, your mother and her friends thought it would be fun to piss all over me. Your mother chose my face and mouth to dump her piss on.”
Ginette gasped in disgust. I winced as I reached forward for my coffee.
“Show me your back,” Ginette insisted, “You’re in severe pain.”
I stood and dropped my dressing gown.
“Shit you’re a mess,” Ginette hissed as she examine my back. “Mostly its wheals but there are some cuts. What did they use on you?”
“A cane, a riding crop and a leather paddle.”
“OK, you need a hot bath to clean those cuts and help lift the bruising. Although piss is normally sterile when it leaves the body, it could give you an infection.” Ginette was taking charge.
I eased myself into a deep bath of hot water laced with Dettol. Gina began sponging me down. In spite of my pain I thoroughly enjoyed the experience of being washed. Once she had finished I settled down for a soak.
“You lied to me, you’re just a thief. Didn’t I mean anything to you?” Ginette was suddenly aggressive.
I was struggling to see her logic.
“I admit that I came to the village to set up some robberies. But I’ll ask you something, did you know that the insurance claims were three times the value if the stolen stuff? You tell me who is the thief.” I wasn’t in the mood for any bollocks.
“I suppose having sex with me didn’t fit in with your plans?” Ginette began to cry.
“It wasn’t originally in my plans to have sex with anyone, but don’t think for one moment that having sex with you meant nothing.”
“Yeah, right,” Ginette’s reply was cynical.
“OK, tell me, did I do anything to hurt you?” I asked.
Ginette shook her head.
“Believe me Ginette, that afternoon was both special and a pleasure for me. My criminal plans had no impact on you. Anyway, I’ll be out of your way soon.”
“Why?” she asked.
“I’m a pretty tough guy and although prison is not something I want, those old sluts have got me by the balls. I wouldn’t wish what they’re done to me on anyone and I don’t plan to let them do any more. I’m going to hand myself in to the police.”
“Yeah,” Ginette agreed, “seeing you being screwed by that huge dildoe was pretty nasty, but listen, you don’t have to do anything extreme, I know all about what’s been going on,” Ginette replied, “I want to help.”
“There’s nothing you can do, I’m up shit creek without a paddle.”
“Wrong,” she replied with a smile, “I was disgusted with what I saw and decided to take action. Mum told me about what she had done and I went rummaging through her PC. I erased all the files relating to you. I also found the hard copies of everything. Here.”
She gave me a buff document folder. Inside were a number of computer print-outs, a couple of CD-roms and a video tape.
“The folder contains all of mum’s dossier on you. Destroy it and you’re home clear. The video shows the sexual activities carried out on you by the ladies of this village, it could destroy their reputations if it were sent to the papers. I also found the source code for the worm dad used on your PC. If you were to publicise that he had been writing and using worms it would kill his career.”
She held the folder out to me.
“I have one condition. I want to leave home – I’m terminally pissed off with mum. I don’t plan to live on the streets.”
I guessed what was coming.
“I want to live with you and share your bed.”
To be frank, I couldn’t think of something I would like more.
“You’ve got a deal,” I replied.
I burned the dossier and telephoned Julia and Patricia.
“Come to my cottage now, if you know what’s good for you, and bring your friends.” I told them.
“I watched the video while we waited. The women weren’t very bright. They had recorded everything that had been said and done. I had enough to stitch them up nicely.
They arrived 30 minutes later snarling at my insolence.
“What are you doing here, Ginette?” Julia asked.
“Shut up and listen,” I told them. “Your precious dossier on me is gone. Ginette and I have destroyed it.”
They looked incredulous.
“It’s true,” Ginette told them explaining that had happened.
“Oh well, it was fun while it lasted,” Patricia finally spoke.
“Oh its not over yet,” I continued with a grin.
I explained about the little video and what I knew about Ginette's Dad's computer worm. I also explained what would happen to his job and reputation if it got into the IT world that he was in the business of writing and circulating viruses.
“Imagine life without his ample income.” I told Julia. “How would you like to have to move to a cheaper house and a cheaper lifestyle?”
Julia looked pale and remained silent.
“And Mrs Ackroyd, do you think the bridge club and Ladies Fellowship would enjoy your little video. An upstanding member of the community using a strap-on to bugger a helpless man.”
“Now as for you, Jean, I'm sure your patients will love to see your naked, wobbling body.” I turned to Ginette, “You told me you were fat, now Jean is what I call fat!”
Jean blushed deep scarlet.
“And last, but not least, Wendy. Have you told your husband about your insemination? Do you think he'll approve?”
The women, for their various reasons, all looked downcast. I let them stew for a couple of minutes.
“OK, now what do you think it will take to buy our silence?” There was no reply. “Right, now how much profit did you exactly make from the insurance companies for your lost possessions?”
Still no reply. I was getting impatient.
“Now stop messing about, how much?” I shouted.
Hesitantly each replied and I did some quick mental arithmetic.
“OK, near enough £600,000. Right, I'm not greedy, you will arrange for £500,000 to be delivered to me today. Cash or money orders, no cheques. Come back here at five this afternoon with the money and I'll destroy the video.”
“Oh mother I have something to say,” Ginette interjected. “I’ve had enough of you. You ask some stranger to screw me without any thought of what I want, you treat me like a possession. I’m moving out.”
Julia blanched.
“Where are you going? You don’t have any money, are you going to live on the streets?”
“She’ll live here.” I replied.
“But she just complained about what you did to her,” Julia looked confused.
“She may disagree with your behaviour and motives but she had no complaints about the service she received!” I replied with a grin.
Ginette walked over to the door and opened it.
“Goodbye Mother,” she smiled sweetly. “And don't be late with the money.”
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