Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Anthony, David, Anthony, David? - oh you decide Reader!

Ooh darling Reader, you will not believe the fun I’ve had! I do regret not sharing with you the details; it's all i've managed to do to get back to London in one piece to be honest. Now that I've got a bit more time, the details of my cunt-ry visit will unfold now. It’s been hectic, I’ve been entertained, shall we say, quite Royally. Yes, your mind’s ticking over now isn’t it, me having been in the deepest of the Gloucestershire countryside and everything.

Country gent throwing the hay at the barn dance was called Anthony. With an aitch of course. Sister Del couldn’t attend which was such a relief! Didn’t want her checking up on me all the time. Told her I was having a quiet night in whilst she was away for two days. Fiona had been denying to come of course, but I lied and said I was partnered for the evening anyway and it was strictly partners. Nothing could be thought of as strict at these barn shannanigans I can tell you.

I wore wellies, as instructed on the invitation and very wise that was too! Those are they in the pic. As you see they were soon covered in my under-attire. I feel they go together quite well. It’s quite a look, is it not? So, as I trudged from where my trusty car sat over the fields to a massive barn and hay-store, my jolly old red teddy bear jarmies got covered in mud and poo I suppose it was, around the hem. Can you imagine, me, with poo on my jarmies? How things change…What else, then, but to remove them at the entrance! Anthony welcomed me with a steadying hand as I delicately slipped my bare legs – lightly and fakely tanned of course - from the rubber and into my pink fluffy mules which I’d been dangling from my fingers.

Into the barn I went, in cream silk baby doll, yes that one trodden on by my wellies. You see it there? Teamed it with pretty, pink knicks, though I carried those incredibly small tie-on ones, you see the black ones with red satin ties, in my bag for later. Another good move, and I shall tell you why.

What they put in that punch, I’ll never know. I’m not the hardiest of drinkers at the best of times but it blew me sideways. Directly, in fact, into the strong arms of a young farmhand who proceeded to follow me around all night. He was the darlingest of puppies, too. It was the briefest of liaisons, really. His name was David. I shall say no more. We drank a little, danced a little and as the music slowed, his hands slid deliciously under the cream lace hem of the doll I was trying to wear and down the crease of my bottom. The nerve, Reader!

That nerve of his earned him a quick, giggly trip outside the barn to where a large pile of tyres lay. Perfect, he had the cheek to say, and promptly pushed me onto them. Bouncy they were and dare I say not too uncomfortable. Well, my hair, which I’d carefully mussed up into a shabby sixties pile, was tumbling all around my shoulders now, its backcombing in a real muddle. His oral skills, though, more than made up for it. Having displayed some rough and tumble at the start, he morphed into a gently lapping, softly probing tongue of a man. I swear, every bone in my body went uselessly, girlishly limp as he made me come twice, saturating my pink lace which he’d pulled to one side, considerately, I felt.

After that, he’d unzipped in a flash and assumed a sixty nine so quickly I had pillow spin. David couldn’t have been more than twenty I’d say, but he had more experience than a lot of mature men I’ve known and told me to sleep with him later in the hay barn. I replied he’d have to wait and see, sucking cheekily on my finger, and that I don’t normally sleep with anyone on a first date. He seemed a little surprised but I stopped his cherubic mouth with a wet and lipsticky kiss. Fully satisfied, we tidied ourselves and returned to the high kicks, linked arms and country music which I was strangely starting to enjoy, I, now wearing the teeniest of black knicks – those ones with the red ties. They’ve got some tales to tell, for sure. So easy! Well, dancing away, I felt them slip down more than once and had to discreetly pull them up. Well, I’m nothing if not discreet in polite company. My wellies were outside, housed with sodden pink ones tucked inside.

Anthony-with-an-aitch then found me, introducing me to some forgettable people with unforgettable names. Penelope Harthrow was one, I do hope you don’t know her, perhaps I shouldn’t put surnames in but they were just hilarious. Cedric Hardbottom was another. I kid you not. Then, his sister Annabelle appeared and whispered, smiling confidently, into my ear that she wanted to lick my breasts. Returning her brother’s smile as she breathily pulled away from my face you’d never have known. At least Anthony wouldn’t.

Not sure I was quite ready for that one, I went off to continue to throw my body around in shapes of country dance until the early hours with him, interspersed by David’s constant appearances and his insistence that we, ‘we’ no less, should retire now to bed. I told the impudent young David that I loved dancing and he could go but I’d be there very soon.

Anthony had other ideas though. Spirited away to the inside of his farmhouse, I found myself locked in behind the inner kitchen door, what I’d have called a pantry, but he said it was the inner kitchen. For all the world I’d have said it was a very large cupboard. Anyway, I digress with mere detail. Dark it was, now Reader, pitch black. I was vulnerable and waited for the onslaught. Under the cover of night, this gent was fumbling, drooling and pulling at my ties until they floated to the floor and wiping his beard all over me as he dropped to his knees, groaning loudly. Well I’d already had that, hadn’t i? So, I tactfully redirected his mouth to my breasts which were popping out of my doll, an impressively heaving bosom if I say so myself. Quite eighteenth century, it was.

He sucked like crazy, making uninhibited sounds, both wet and vocal; so desperately loving it, it was really rather turny-onny.

He, shyly at first I thought, (how wrong I was), took my hand to his checkered pyjamas and I obediently pulled his ties. Revealed instantly to my hand was quite a snake I don’t quite know how he’d managed to conceal it so far! Thin, but wiry and strong, it had a mind of its own and instructed its master to ably lift me up all of a sudden and plant me, open legged, onto a sturdy shelf behind. Grabbing my arse, he pulled me forward so my city triangle was, once again, receiving attention. Fingers, almost a fist, then his condommed penis, they all explored me, hungrily entering and possessing. Wrapping my pinkly-muled feet around his back, I hung on to him, my hands linked around his neck as he shelf-fucked me with such hard regularity, we were soon both smashing into an almighty orgasm, trembling the tins lined up beside me.

It was some minutes before my hips confirmed they could still function and that my pelvis was not broken. My thighs had been parted that wide, I must have walked like a novice on a bolted horse. Deeply sore, I sucked in my breath as he told me to ‘get upstairs to his room ready for another bashing while (he) said his guest goodnights’.

Well, there was no way, Reader! I needed softer tackling I’m afraid and replied I had to be off. Remembering my manners, I dutifully thanked him with a polite air peck on the cheek.

Off I was, but not for home. I trudged once again, once Anthony was out of sight, totally ruining those mules this time, to the hay barn where I snuggled in beside the sleeping David. Give him an hour and I could expect a delicious, slow seeing to and perhaps some more of that velvet tongue to heal where Anthony had bashed.

Take my advice, ladies; don’t throw those barn dance invitations in the bin. Muss yourself up, hitch your skirts, kick your legs and get lined up dancing. It’s what I call a real party.

Next, dear Reader; a right Royal encounter! …

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Blogger Tomate Farcie said...

Greetings from San Francisco and welcome, new blogger!

I saw your entry on Eric's blog (PDP) and thought I'd pay you a visit and say hello.

Consider this my (virtual) dropping in with a (virtual) pie to welcome a new (virtual) neighbor in the (virtual) community.

(Virtually) yours,
TF :-)

8 November 2006 at 01:23  
Blogger croquette said...

Welcome you on board ! I wish you a nice trip in the Blogosphere !

8 November 2006 at 06:49  
Blogger Tom Paine said...

A lovely account, and very lusty, too. DH Lawrence called dancing "making love standing up," and it's one thing I love to watch a passionate woman do.

9 November 2006 at 16:18  
Blogger Him and Her said...

Thanks for your comment.. like your blog :)
You certainly sound like you're having a lot of fun!!

9 November 2006 at 21:06  
Blogger Utsav said...

wow u make me wanna thrash hay in a barn for the rest of my life :)

11 November 2006 at 17:11  
Blogger nobody said...

why thank you utsav. Then, stay around for the next little bash! xxx

11 November 2006 at 19:34  
Blogger Utsav said...

oh yes!
royalty, hmmm..
and i do believe lego could find rather creative application in sex education for kids..
then maybe i'm crazy :)..
waiting for the next one..

11 November 2006 at 20:45  
Blogger Him and Her said...

Really enjoy your writings honey. Keep it up!

12 November 2006 at 14:57  
Blogger croquette said...

It was a great exercise for me to read ( and translate) your writings. I hope you will keep this good work. A little kiss from France. With all my freindship.

16 November 2006 at 18:16  
Blogger croquette said...

second post. I try to write my blog in English !! Good news isn' it ?

16 November 2006 at 20:45  
Blogger nobody said...

oui croquette, c'est chouette, merci bien!

17 November 2006 at 22:48  
Blogger Sir Dirty Joke said...

nice blog. keep it up!

21 November 2006 at 20:35  

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