Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Fiction, Incest, Mother, Father, Daughter, Grand Parent, Interracial, Black Male, Black Female, White Male, White Female, Indian Male, Anal Sex, Analingus, Bestiality, Cream Pie, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Hairy,
Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Wealthy Asian publican, his family, friends and animals.
A popular British TV programme Bargain Hunt attracts a ruthless pub owner and his equally unscrupulous daughter
Dick Power aged 67
Sandra Power “ 56
Surinder Power “ 20
Dick Power needed some bric-a brac oddities for the new pub he was adding to his empire. Seven years ago he had taken over The Old Bag licensed house in the once thriving industrial hessian sewing part of town and now the thriving, very expensive, trendy residential area, from his deceased father who had also left him a substantial pile of money. Dick had recently acquired The Black Hole. His intentions were to turn the well known, bustling watering hole into a gastro pub, much to the dislike of his regulars and residents in the revitalised docklands. Pops Nob, Slippery Nipple and Thick Bush were just some of the real ales created at the local craft beer brewery, which he also owned, attached to Nelly’s Dive, known as Dive In Nelly’s to the medical students who frequented it in their hundreds. That had been the second of his pub purchases.
At a similar time to when Dick, Sandra his wife and Surinder their daughter discussed plans for The Black Hole, Sandra had applied for a chance on being a participant in the Bargain Hunt TV programme. She was a lover of mooching around car boot sales, attended house and garage sales and scoured the newspapers for bargains – of any sort. Surinder had graduated through the university of dad and pubs and often managed whatever boozer they owned when needed. Between those occasions she performed as a burlesque dancer in a group with her friends, Glenis, Clare, Helen and Suze, the second coloured girl in the group known as The Shapes with Style. Some audience members also knew them as Shags with Style for several reasons.
Breakfast was being taken in the palatial detached residence known as Chez Power, owned for many years by Dick’s father and grandfather, immigrants from Bangladesh, which Dick now owned, having changed his name to a Western one he liked. Sandra cooked Surinder’s full English breakfast as the girl did Facebook on her Smart Phone and patted Sniffy the Golden labrador family pet, who was torn between sniffing the bacon grilling on the Miele cooker and sniffing pussy odours between Surinder’s shapely legs. He’d already had a sniff up Sandra’s denim mini skirt but been shoved brusquely way, because she didn’t want the dog’s cold wet snout near her panty pads which were already damp and uncomfortable. “While you’re on that, text your dad and get him to get a pack of Always Ultras for me, he’s at Bookers Cash and Carry,” she asked Surinder, who shook her head, rolled her eyes and groaned, her fingers lightning quick on her screen. “He won’t know what they are Mum and if he did wouldn’t get them ... you know,” the girl replied. Sandra nodded resignedly, shuffling trying to dislodge the soiled bunch of towel and cotton wool caught in her labia. She would go to the convenience store later and buy them herself. She heard the mail rattle onto the mat at the front door and sent Sniffy. He was well trained in retrieving the mail and did a good job, as if the envelopes and flyers were like a freshly shot pheasant. He returned and proudly dropped them at her feet. She patted his head and silently giggled that he had other talents.
“Oh wow! Got it, real cool,” gushed Sandra, having slit open an envelope and reading, after dishing up Surinder’s meal, her sad heavy browed eyes becoming alive and excited. “What is it Mum?” “That show Bargain Hunt - We’re on it, a weeks time, in our area. They’ve been let down and they want to know if we’ll step in quick – wow! Your dad will be chuffed.” Surinder knew her mum had applied, Dick did too but hadn’t been interested and didn’t know he was to be involved.
Sandra finished her cup of tea, left the kitchen to the cleaner lady and went through to the computer in the study, then online to the broadcasters website related to Bargain Hunt and replied, agreeing – date, venue, time, noting requirements, dress codes and agreeing to various rules of the broadcasters. In enclosing pictures as requested she included one in her daily outfit. This depicted her stout, wide hipped, pear shaped frame, a knee length black skirt, plain white tee-shirt and short dirty blonde hair. She thought about whether the fact her bulbous nipples showed through the white tee-shirt was too obvious, but shrugged as she never wore brassieres, so that was that and the family knew she pulled in a few randy punters to ogle her. After all business is business. The photo of Dick was again his usual day wear of jeans under what he called a grandpa shirt.
Surinder completed her meal, patting Sniffy’s head as he’d returned to her side, resting his handsome head on her lap and gazing up at her with that mournful needing expression that Labradors have. “Hmm, I know what you want my lover,” she murmured. She felt dribbles of his saliva on her dusky, bare, goosebumped thighs and shivered. She was still in her pyjamas, which consisted of an old voluminous tee-shirt, without knickers as usual,. The shirt just covered her dark brown butt when she stood. She blotted the drool with her paper napkin, left the table mess for the cleaner and went upstairs to her room, knowing she was free until afternoon, as Dick had asked her to deal with a bottle beer supplier at the warehouse he owned. Sniffy sniffed the slight damp smudge on the chair she had sat on in the kitchen, then followed her.
Dick went for a piss at the cash and carry, leaving his heaped trolley parked near the checkout tills. Unusually he had enjoyed his shopping trip round the enormous trade supply store, especially as he’d been seriously chatted up by an assistant by the name of Glenis. She was a slender, pale, young thing about twenty one he guessed, with nice firm tits thrusting at her dung coloured uniform shirt. He had noticed a distinct camel toe in her very tight, light grey joggings pants. He had a feeling he had seen her somewhere around, besides at Bookers, but couldn’t place her, however she was exceedingly pleasant, keen to help, found stuff on his list and made sure his trolley was packed safely. White females didn’t usually show any interest in elderly Asian men he’d found, not that he was bothered being happily married. She had never given him that much attention before. He hadn’t worn a particular aftershave that day, but it was nice.
Glenis Sleep was nineteen and had a thing about older men. They had to be good looking, lean and wealthy. She was obsessed with old men, having been brought up by her divorced father from the age of three and he had radicalised her to believe, men like him were the only ones worth bothering with and to be loved in every way possible. Glenis was nothing if not streetwise and had added wealth to her dad’s list of old men attributes. Mr Power met all of her criteria and she knew a lot about him from other contacts.
Miss Sleep was very smart too and had become a techie nerd at school, a wizard on computers and had easily infiltrated her dad’s computer and found some amazing stuff. Because, in his mind, she was just a girl and only interested in clothes, shoes and make up, he had never bothered to password protect his seemingly secret world. Glenis uncovered his addiction to voyeurism and had been totally shocked that he had installed cameras in their house and there were countless videos of her from early age to the present day. They showed her getting dressed and undressed, showering and even on the toilet. She had diligently sought the remarkable mini video cameras, seeing the angles he had videoed, her main problem being not to glance at them whenever she knew she was in view, but she’d left them intact. Her dad had broadcast the videos of her on the internet and she was famous world wide.
Sunitra gasped at Sniffy’s energy as he shunted vigorously at her raised Asian descended butt. Her head was buried in her dark purple duvet, her knees were wide apart on the big towel, to catch any drips, she had carefully placed on the fluffy carpet and his knot was just entering her cunt. Sandra had made several pairs of socks to cover his dew claws. For so many times he had fully mounted her when she would let him cum, rather than slip him out and grasp his cock to wank or suck finish him off. The sheer, luxurious, ecstatic pain of his knot securing it’s place in her minge, exaggerated with the frantic scampering of his hind legs as he tried to gain extra purchase as his cum commenced, brought tears of pleasure to her young dark eyes.
She squealed as the slimy, three inch diameter, brightly veined bulb achieved maximum position, then slid sideways off her bed to lower her body to his level and then made sure one of his hind legs swung over her back, so that Sniffy and her could remain knotted, rear to rear, panting, quietening, as he pumped his seed into her mott.
Her mother trotted past Sunitra’s bedroom door, glancing in and smiling at the bestial scene. “Lucky girl, you’ve got the morning off to do that darling,” she said, attracting the attention of Sniffy who merely turned his head about ninety degrees and Sunitra, who smiled up towards the door. “I’m off to the shop, need a few things, including my ... you know ... pads,” she grimaced, gesturing at her groin. “Want anything? Think I’ll then pop in to see Ming as well,” Her daughter answered negative about shopping, she knew Ming - a part time barmaid, was a good friend of Sandra’s.
Reaching the master bedroom, Sandra’s mind was full of the sensual and exciting image she had just seen, it was only feet away in the next room and envied her daughter the pleasure she was enjoying Maybe later in the day, I can get that big red chisel like cock up my cunt, she mused, feeling a different sort of moisture in her gusset. Give over Sandra, she told herself, no use creaming your knickers now, you have stuff to get on with.
Sunitra chuckled to herself, thankfully she had loads of time, Sniffy could be up her snatch for a half hour at least sometimes. She remembered a year back when Sniffy was a five year old and had to take second best to his dad, Captain – Cap for short, god rest his canine soul and fucking traffic she mused. There had been a few times when Sandra or her were mounted by Cap and Sniffy got the idea and wanted to mount too, jumping up, his forefeet adding to the load and in some cases the scratches, his rump shunting as if he was breeding. Cap would merely growl and remain top cock dog.
“Interesting couple,” chuckled Tim Waddaclot, in his office at the broadcasters, the photos of Dick and Sandra on his monitor. “Don’t think we’ve had an Indian bloke have we, a black bint I do remember. And look at her nipples, we’ll have to make sure the camera man doesn’t lock on to those knockers in any close ups,” he snickered. “Email her the usual and make sure she wears a fucking bra.” “Tim please, don’t be so crude,” snuffled his secretary. Stuck up cow, he thought. The old bag probably doesn’t know where hers are, with her prim grey hair, buttoned up blouse and tweed skirt. Bit like my missus. The sixty four year old, gap toothed, poncy, narcissistic TV presenter, tweaked his striped black and white bow tie, let another button loose on his preposterous bright orange waistcoat, and adjusted his grotesquely patterned scarf and strolled to another office.
Glenis relaxed at home with her big screen monitor and the mini camera connected, to view the days video captures. She was excited about what she hoped would be revealed and was so happy she had befriended young Denis Pickles, one of the cleaning staff at Bookers Cash and Carry. Befriended was probably the wrong word, she mused. A blow job in turn for him turning a blind eye when she entered the male lavatories, at the end of her shift was easy. The daft little bugger had been thrilled and she didn’t even have to let the low life idiot feel her up or show him her tits. Two visits had been enough for her in the foul, piss smelling toilets. Both were after hours, the place was closed and virtually empty apart from one or two staff. She had reconnoitred the rooms first, made notes, two smelly urinal stalls and one lockable cubicle, took photos and then the second time Glenis was equipped with various sticky tapes, bits of cardboard and other stuff
She already had saved videos of some men, always her favourite targets - middle age to elderly, different sizes, shapes and colours, discarding many who in some female eyes would be very desirable, but tonight’s special long awaited showing would be the father of one of her dancing colleagues, the magnificently handsome, steel grey haired, classic Asian moustached Mr Power, Dick Power. She had wrestled with herself whether she should tell Sunitra, that her beloved dad would soon be an international star on Glenis’s mature cock blog Lovely Old Gits. She still hadn’t decided – depends how good the views are.
One camera angle she had carefully calculated and positioned was for rear views, showing the men’s backs, their stances, attitudes and wriggles as they adjusted their clothing before and after abluting. The most important, being frontal, angled at chest height, therefore only showing the men’s genitals, unless a minor entered or a very short bloke, was via a camera mounted inside some rather ornate decorative frames, on the cill of a blocked up window housing out of date events and advertisements. Men would ponder it while pissing, not spotting the cleverly hidden devices. It would capture the users of both latrines. The variety of cocks, sizes, how they were held, the flow, the shaking and in some cases sheer sexual fiddlings were fascinating for the young girl voyeur.
Glenis routinely viewed every chap having a slash, ogling the features she was addicted to, whilst predominately interested in the matures, as there was often the case of something unusual popping out, so to speak. The way some blokes treated their pricks often surprised her, some nipped their droopy cocks and stroked them, others looked as if they were milking them. She deleted many apart from one prodigious member on a slim, tall, mature, very well dressed business man who had taken great care in extracting a stray pubic hair caught in the slit in his knob and a burly, red haired, UPS delivery youth with a short, fat tool who wanted to see the bloke’s beside him and also stood well back and wanted others to see his, retaining him for a humorous interlude, which went down well on her blog...
Certain unusual knobs were saved on video, some were withered, some wrinkled, some bloated and downright ugly and all sorts of colours too. She loved the black with piebald ones, pink and brown mixes of colours and some glossy black, sort of like horses she had stared at too long, but she would edit lots out, mainly preserving her obsession with matures. The final editing would be the back views combined with the fronts. She noted as usual, it was UK after all, hardly any caught on video had been circumcised.
Sandra completed her shopping at Tesco Convenience Store and nipped into the ladies to insert a new sanitary pad in her big pants, savouring the moment of wiping her damp genitals dry and the new clean feel. She thought about having a little play, Dick hadn’t had his usual morning glory shag, being so keen to get to Bookers for a major supplies purchase for all his premises, his gorgeous big brown donger and Sniffy mounted on her daughter were immediate triggers, but Ming had texted her to say to say use the back door, which reminded her she still had the visit.
She parked her SAAB coupé neatly and walked round the side entrance to Ming’s small terraced house. She entered, dumped her coat and went along the passage to the stairs, greeted by Corky, Ming’s very active black Dachshund. Woman and dog knew each other well, so they both fussed, Sandra sitting on the bottom step, letting him jump up on to her lap. His paws caught the hem of her skirt, his little paws luckily not scratching her stockings, thoughts of Sniffy’s socks and what this busy little pure bred canine could do despite his short stature...
“Sandra, that you? Come on up.” Mrs Power’s musings were interrupted, answered - it was indeed her, so she shoved Corky off, stood and climbed the stairs. He scuttled up after her. The two old friends knew each others routines and as she entered the back room, which was set up as a part laboratory and study, she was mystified at part of the sight. Ming Ling, an exiled North Korean scientist, was completely naked on a bench, both legs, spread high and wide on examination stirrups. She was tweaking her half inch high, very dark nipples and smiling at her visitor, who wasn’t fazed by the initial scene, but was by what was between Ming’s legs. Attached to them with a couple of strips of masking tape was a large perforated cotton bag and inside were about six butterflies. Two of them were on Ming’s labia, which Sandra knew was a very untidy affair of skin tissue in the way her cunt lips resembled a hotch potch of layers, folds, creases and had a leathery, well worn appearance. Ming, typically of mature Oriental ladies was extremely hirsute, but the butterflies seemed to be negotiating the forest well.
“What the fuck... ,” “New experiment Sand,” chuckled Ming. “I’ve developed a new scent, at least I think I have – which hopefully resembles what a flower gives off, like a pollination come and get me so to speak. If it works I can market it within our group, be a bit different to us ladies from dogs, horses, pigs ... you know. I mean they always want to sniff and eat us don’t they? This is just a whim, do you think they’re going for it? That’s a camera up there, to give me an idea of the action,” Ming pointed to a shelf, Sandra glancing up.
“Tell you what sweetie, if it tastes good when they’re finished, I’m going to have a go myself ... heh heh,” she snickered. “They look really keen, I mean several of them are having a go, reminds me of when you had Corky, that Jack Russell and that Miniature Poodle, can’t remember their names, all trying to mount you, but with your lovely big pussy, there’s no problem with these,” she snickered again, peering closer at the bag.
“Oops get down Corky, it was Lick and Suck, those others,” said Ming as the tiny animal had his forelegs up on the edge of the bench near Ming’s face. Sandra nodded remembering good fun. “He can smell you anywhere. How long have you had this on?” asked Sandra, nodding at the bag. “About an hour, no – got twenty minutes yet,” replied Ming looking at her wrist watch. “I’m aiming at the hour then try to write it up, sort of official.” “Can you feel them, you know ... eating you?” “Not really to be honest, didn’t expect to, but it’ll be a nice private diversion for some girls, sort of floral and relaxed – yeah? While laying here the idea of some bumble bees, not the stingers, and some of them fucking big MayFlies you know? Could be fun.” Sandra shook her head at her pal’s amazing ideas and skills. She’d been an eminent professor in Pyongyang. Her dissident husband had been executed, she had fled and ended up virtually penniless and had happened on a pitying Sandra at a relief centre. The barmaid job was taken in the Power empire and the two women struck a same age friendship, the bestial nature having been discovered when Ming happened on Surinda being mounted by Cap, in an oft neglected section of the park and being excited, saw that she’d been spotted and they’d got chatting.
Dick was easily recognised by Glenis by his stature, size, his hair and a grandpa style shirt he favoured. She filtered her hand inside her lace fronted briefs as she clicked her remote and her clitoris and watched both views of her target. She gasped as he slung his exquisite cock out. He was one of the few to have been cut. He peeled a pubic hair off his dull, lighter coloured brown helmet. She could see a stout thatch of black hair brushing through his stark white underpants and dreamed about getting a clean undressed view of his ethnic genitals. His piss started and Glenis was fascinated that he held his penis backhanded, the back of his brown hairy mitt tending to mask his shaft, but she loving the strong flow of his pee.
An equally tall slender man in white overalls came and occupied the adjacent urinal. It took him some time to source, then unearth his cock from what she guessed was three layers of clothing, his flaccid penis took some time to spout as the man held it gingerly, pressing it and pulling until a dribble commenced, then a steady strong flow commenced. There seemed to be some joking conversation between him and Dick, judging by the noise, shapes and movements. The sound was harshly echoed and bounced off the hard tiled environment they were in, so Glenis couldn’t make out their obviously jovial words, but she wished she could have.
Her target’s flow ceased and he turned his hand to a forehand grip and shook his shaft, enjoying the bounce of his stunning tool. She had noticed that men in general didn’t wipe their knob ends and just tucked them back inside the flies of whatever garments, not like women but women were sat in private and had access to a roll of toilet tissue. Her fingers twirled on the hood of her own knob as she played the thrilling sequence again, then again until she climaxed. She had to see more of this entrancing man.
With her rimless spectacles nestling in her hair, Sandra lapped at Ming’s wide open snatch, being held open by black painted Korean fingers, ignoring the onion odours on them, remembering the kitchen she had passed down stairs with pots on the oven. She had told Ming she hadn’t detected anything unusual in terms of special scents, but the lush cunt provided much of it’s own. The Oriental woman’s clitoris was a stout heart shaped button amongst the brown purplish tones of her clitoris hood which matched her labial formation. Ming’s fingers flattened her profuse spiky pubic growth, juice flowing freely from the dark sultry aperture within.
Ming having finished her experiment, had removed the butterfly bag, releasing them out the window and swivelled on the bench, resting back against the wall and sliding her butt to the edge of the bench. Earlier Sandra had bunched her skirt up round her waist, taken her high cut silk knickers off and let Corky have a lick at the steaming hot pussy. She had been laid back watching the little sausage dog eat her hoary, middle aged cunt, but was now kneeling, eating Ming and letting Corky lap noisily at her arsehole and fanny.
“Those stockings are a nice shade Sandra,” murmured Ming. “Bit risky though,” she snickered. “Didn’t know I’d be doing this luv,” Sandra muttered from a very wet, curly black, twat. “Have got plenty. Dick does like me to dress smartly when I go out.” “Judging by the times you’re round here and fucking Corky or with Sniffy and he’s fucking you then me, you can near damn guarantee something nice is bound to happen,” chortled Ming. “At least you’ve got Dick to give you one ... oohhhh yes yes yesss,” Ming squealed in orgasmic pleasure, her hand holding Sandra’s fair headed bob pressing it to ensure her friends tongue was fully inserted up her old Korean cunt.
Sandra eased from the now satisfied Oriental genitals, to let Ming calm and sort herself. She knelt lower and spread her legs a bit wider. Corky’s pointed snout continued to ream both her ring and her mott, forever gluttonous for human juice. Sandra’s knees, legs, thighs and hips were starting to be uncomfortable. She needed to stretch and ease her middle aged Tewkesbury born and bred limbs. She made life difficult for her midget canine lover, thinking she could have turned on her back and let him knot her, but her common sense was always in play and she could do this most times and there were things to do. She flushed the still randy Dachshund away as Ming returned for the bathroom and gestured, suggesting a nice cuppa.
Down in the kitchen, they resumed their conversation. “Yes he’s lovely” said Sandra – brining up Dick again. “Hubby and dad and a master with the pub business. So pleased he chatted me up at that beer festival.” “Yeah, somewhere in the Midlands?” “Yeah home town Tewkesbury – Watson Hall I remember. I was doing a bit of promo for a brewery. He had a classic German Shepherd with him and I made a big fuss of him and stupidly felt his cock, Dick saw me, grinned and the rest is history,” she giggled. “These stuck out a lot more when I was young,” she chortled pointing at her erect teats, under a tee-shirt. “Maybe it was them...” “Both I think,” guffawed Ming. “You holding the dog cock and those.” Both women roared with laughter.
Dick was not a happy bunny as he drove his Mercedes to a huge Car Boot sale on the edge of town, one sunny, warm Sunday morning. “Pity your mum is not well,” he moaned to Surinder, sat beside him garbed in full Banglashi wear of a colourfully exotic Kurti, maroon leggings, silk shawl and gold sandals. “She wanted to do this fucking TV thing not me, never thought she’d get on it.” “Well she did get on it, good on her, so please stop moaning Dad. You wanted stuff for The Black Hole and you haven’t got any yet, so we can do this charity thing and then enjoy it. Never know might pick a real valuable antique. Be interesting to see which of the experts we’ll be teamed with and what the others are like, the team we’ll be against. I fancy that David Harper.” “What that baldy bloke? I’d like to have that blonde bint Christina Trevanion, Dick muttered, swinging the big limousine into a designated spot on the site.
They were ushered into a TV crew unit and introduced to camera men, presenters, the contending couple – young married from the villages around, experts – they got chubby Thomas Plant, the others fat, Michael Baggot and finally Wattaclot. He was his usual smarmy I love my self. They were briefed, do this, don’t do that and the filming commenced. The Powers did OK and lost the TV contest by only four pounds and were left to themselves.
“Not bad really, sort of enjoyed it,” giggled Dick trying to chew through an immense Kebab from an on site vendor. “That last woman with the mirror could’ve been your Mum,” he chortled, much bigger tits of course, but nipples like hers and no fucking bra.” His daughter rolled her eyes, but Dad was Dad and she loved him. “Glad we didn’t get that obese bloke the others had uurrgh!” Sunitra shuddered. “While you finish that, I’m going for a pee, then we’ll raid the stalls for us, with our own cash. Big drop of ketchup on your chin Dad,” she reminded Dick.
The two of them roamed the enormous collection of good stuff, midling stuff and utter rubbish. Dick bought some Victorian pendant lamps and Surinder bought a pair of Georgian silver ear rings, a silk scarf. On her own for a while, Dick chatting to another publican, she had her eye on a sweet, enamelled and gold set of dressing table accoutrements. They were priced at £160, being sold by a charming, well dressed, elderly, balding man with a full set of neatly trimmed, grey whiskers, dark rimmed tinted specs, a paisley cravat, plain grey waistcoat and incongruously scruffy jeans. She made a big fuss of his Golden Retriever, tethered to the side of his extremely smart, Hymer motor home, behind his display. They chatted about the dog and how good she was with Bond when he told her its name. Surinder told him she had a Labrador at home and she adored it. With a lot of good feelings, she tried to haggle with him and got the price down to £140 – a mere but typical nearly ten percent.
She lost interest patted Bond and sauntered on, Dick approaching from the opposite direction, catching the body language, the dog and noting the disappointed vendor’s ogling her swaying butt. “It’s Maurice isn’t it?” he gushed. “Used to have the Bull and Bush, fuck me that’s a few years now,” he added. “Good gracious Asif, well well, nice to see you again my old mucker.” Maurice chortled, good naturedly shaking Dick’s offered hand. “S’not Asif these days Maury – no problem. Changed me name, it’s easier on documents you know. Dick – Dick Power. Still the same business, the pubs and stuff, got a few now. Any way ... you OK?” “Fair enough mate. Anything to make stuff easier. I’ve retired now, sold up and do a bit for the daughter. Other than that...” Maurice snickered. “This is all her stuff, she’s not well, woman’s stuff you know. I’ve got over Prostate Cancer and luckily this new treatment still lets me get it up ... I mean still want to yeah? Since Bunty passed...” There was a long pause as his eyes drifted then continued. “Got one of those Syrian refugees in to do the cleaning and stuff you know, she’s always in favour of an extra bob or two, no bloody oil painting but ... heh heh.” he ended the lewd conversation by punching playfully on Dick’s arm, who joined in the joviality.
“Good to hear, still getting down the club? I’ve packed in - so busy...” “That’s a tasty bit of arse eh Dick?” Maurice interjected, standing a bit taller and peering over the adjoining stand. He was ogling Surinder as she bargained with a young, white faced, gothic decorated girl in the next row and seemed to be winning a deal. Dick realised Maurice Standforth was talking about his daughter, but kept it to himself. “Yes not half, a black bint too, don’t see many on these things,” he gestured round the sale. “Always fancied them since I was in the Middle East. At least with some of them,” he nodded at Dick’s girl. “There’s all that hiding behind all that black gear. Bloody like Guinness bottles, bet there’s some hot little pussies under them,” Maurice guffawed. “At least with that,” he nodded towards Surinder. “You can see her ... you know, figure and face, lovely.”
The joviality continued until Dick got bored and had an idea. He caught up with Surinder and they strolled around. He told her if she really wanted the dressing table set, which she took him back to show him, reiterating her desire and fondness – he put his fingers to his mouth to Maurice in a time honoured gesture of keeping quiet, if she really really wanted it, he’d heard from other vendors, the nice man in the cravat was known to make extraordinary deals – why not push him, Dick suggested, maybe make him a reverse offer of something she had.
“What! the earrings and scarf Dad?” “You never know with these blokes luv. They’re in for a bargain too, this is called bargain hunt remember, well it is for us, but they must be. You’re in love with that set I can tell – I know you. Just try.” Always up for a challenge and Dad was rarely wrong about people, they went back and had to wait for Maurice to finalise a deal on an ancient rocking chair, Dick doing the fingers to mouth gesture again. Surinder fussed and petted Bond, squatting beside the excited hound, her wayward hand surreptitiously finding a considerable furry sheath among the well manicured dark golden coat on the hound. Maurice finished his deal and approached her, noting her panty line tight under her sari and line of her brassiere straps.
“He really is gorgeous, love him to bits,” she gushed peering up the old man’s crotch. “He’s like me, knows a good things when he sees one, you’re not bad yourself, sorry that’s wrong of me, so did you want to buy something? Oh yes it was that dressing set wasn’t it? Still interested ... here allow me,” said Maurice offering a hand which Surinder took to help her upright. A hooter sounded in the arena. “Bother, that’s the end of the sale, got to pack up quickly, need to get this stuff back to Sarah’s my daughter, on babysitting duties...” The grand old man moaned. “Look if you’re really interested, I’ll tell Sarah and maybe you could do a deal with her, after all it’s her stuff.”
Surinder, Dick and Maurice swopped contacts and the sale ended.