Part 7: Little Friday Peep

[Being the tale of a wanton hussy getting her comeuppance and losing her sheep into the bargain! Tease me will ya?]

Little Friday Peep tugged irritably at the ribbon that held her bonnet in place. This was the limit, how on earth was anyone supposed to live in all this clothing let alone go careering around these hills chasing sheep? And don't let anyone tell you that sheep are stupid*, at least these sheep weren't. Mentally she christened them 'devil sheep' and they took a great delight in scattering themselves across the countryside each time her attention wandered; which, let's face it, it did.

Often.

Looking after sheep is not the most taxing of occupations and so Friday would find herself 'daydreaming'. The sheep, being mischievous creatures, would wait until Friday's 'daydreams' were reaching their noisy climax and then each of them would run like crazy in a different direction bleating their laughter. Of course the noise would awaken Friday from the drowsy aftermath of her 'daydream' and then there would ensue a frantic half-hour of furious activity until all the recalcitrant sheep were once more shepherded back together.

"Bloody Mary****should think herself lucky! At least she only had one and a lamb at that!" said Friday to herself, after she had once more re-gathered her flock. "And it followed her all over the place! She should try chasing up hill and down dale after my lot!"

A couple of the sheep came and bleated their concern; they were only playing after all and didn't really mean to upset her.

"It's OK I'm not really cross, it's just that I'm getting bored... and no that doesn't mean I want to chase you across half the county again!"

The sheep she was addressing looked, well, sheepish and wandered off to join her flock. Deciding to be good for now the flock stuck together and grazed.

Friday sat down and took off her bonnet. "Who invented this thing anyway?" Taking her hat off had felt good; looking around Friday could see only her flock and, making a quick decision, she frantically unbuttoned, unhooked and untied until she sat, naked, on the hillside. She wriggled in glee, thankful to be out of the intensely confining clothing. The sun was warm and the sheep were behaving themselves for once, and Friday slept.

His tongue circled a nipple lazily; his left hand rolled the other nipple gently between finger and thumb sending shocks to that special place between her legs. Just about then the right hand started stroking her stomach and slowly descended to investigate her pubic hair. Quickly a path was blazed down to her pussy lips. Her legs parted, almost of their own volition, as fingers began their explorations to find the source of the 'river' running down her legs. Breathy moans and small squeals were a counterpoint to the rapid breathing that this activity prompted. The tongue and the hand at her pussy began the short trek to exchange places and now the assailant began in earnest. The, almost painful, rolling of her nipples was offset by the, almost unbearable, stimulation of her clit. Soon Friday was helpless to prevent the first of several orgasms, each more intense than the last. Just as she felt that she could take no more the stimulation tapered off and Friday fell into a light doze.

She woke to the sound of Ö nothing. Hey where are the sheep? She looked around. Where are my clothes? Her crook was stuck in the ground and a short note was tied to it.

"Dear Ms. Peep,

We have your sheep. They will be returned to you safe and well upon payment of a ransom."

It was signed, "Nick (The Evil Rat Bandit) Scipio"

Then she noticed a PS. "Which you have already paid!"

Sighing gently to herself, Friday made her way home. As predicted by the Rhyme the sheep were already there. Her clothes, freshly washed and pressed, were airing on the line.

So dear reader they all continued to live happily, if a little noisily, ever after.

(*Once you've seen sheep negotiating a cattle grid 'commando style' [i.e. Lie down parallel to grid, tuck legs into body, then roll across grid.] you will never again think of sheep as stupid. Now cows on the other handÖ)

(****Not a pun, well not intentionally. Though I must admit I did consider littering the piece with cocktails.)