Sunny Saturday.

It was a Hot June Saturday. After a heavy Friday evening at the pub, I didn’t wake until lunchtime when I was woken up by the sounds of the cockerels in a nearby smallholding crowing as usual. Thankfully I didn’t have a hangover.

Cocks are reputed to crow at sunrise. Why do they start well over two hours earlier just when I’m trying to get to sleep and continue frequently throughout the day? I suppose it’s one of the things that you have to put up with in the countryside.

I woke up feeling horny. I didn’t have a regular girlfriend to use as a receptacle for my spunk and hadn’t achieved a one night stand for two weeks. No wonder that I needed a screw.

I got out of bed and drew the curtains. From up here I could see over the wall. In the next garden, I had a clear view of my neighbour, Lizzie sunbathing topless on her lawn. Next to her was her boyfriend, Greg with his hand on her tummy. Looking down on my lawn, Roger, my housemates weekend conquest, the buxom Soo lay on a sun lounger. Both her bikini top and bottom were lying beside her until Roger returned from his Saturday morning job to service her.

I could see four tits and Soo’s hairy pussy. You don’t shit on your own doorstep or fuck your friend’s woman unless invited, such as when playing a sex game. The house-mate charter forbids me screwing Soo. It had been touch and go with my relationship with Roger when Christine had chosen me after Roger had cruelly dumped her years ago.

I had always fancied Lizzie, but we moved in different social circles and she had never played the drunken stripping game ‘Black Betty’ with my friends. I would have to fall back on my oldest partner for sex. My right hand.

I lay back on the bed with a box of tissues beside me for a good wank. My right hand wrapped round my engorged dick and pumped away. It wasn’t as good as a real woman’s cunt. I needed more stimulation. I went to the shelf and opened my photo album. My photos of Carole stripping and lying on the bed flushed after sex weren’t doing it for me. Neither were my jazz mags like ‘Men Only and ‘Mayfair’ with professional photos of Karen. I would have to use the stash of porn that was stored on my phone and I could watch on the bed. I located one of my favourites that usually makes me cum.

I was wanking away, getting closer and closer to an orgasm. My muscles had tensed. I was seconds away from letting fly into the Kleenex.

The doorbell rang and the orgasm dissipated. I pulled on some shorts and a T-shirt. Johnny was standing there. “Cheryl is in the pub yacking away with Audrey about celebs who I’ve never heard of. I’m bored. Do you want to come to the pub for a drink?”

“OK, let’s go. But not too many. I had a skinfull last night.”

In the snug, Cheryl and her friend, Audrey were still yacking away about people who I’d never met. Neither had they but their wedding photos were in OK magazine. Cheryl leaned her head back so I could give her a hello peck on her lips. I recognised Audrey. She was the daughter of one of the farmers in the next viillage so her attitude to sex was very down to earth She normally drank in the Old Oak pub there. Roger had brought her home a couple of times and I’d had breakfast with her a couple of months ago after he’d spent a debauched night with her. Audrey was very buxom with long straight blonde hair. In the hot weather, she was wearing a T-shirt and obviously no bra.

Johnnie and I sat next to them and were talking about guitarists and the different ways of fingering certain chords. At one point, Eric Clapton was mentioned. The girls immediately took interest.

“You know that he had an affair with George Harrison’s wife?” Cheryl remarked.

“Of course. She must be some woman to have inspired both ‘Something’ and ‘Wonderful Tonight’.” I said. The tide had turned. All four of us were talking together about music. “Let’s go back to mine and play those records.”

“O.K.” agreed Audrey.

“I need to write an essay.” Johnnie told us. “Not us.”

Cheryl and Johnnie walked home while Audrey came to my house where I played ‘Slowhand’ and ‘Abbey Road’ while we canoodled on the sofa. Both our T-shirts came off during the first CD. I crossed the room to change the CD. By the time I had returned, Audrey was only wearing her tighty whitey panties. Even her shorts and t-shirt were on the floor.

She noticed my guitar resting in a corner. “Play me something.”

I played her Terry Hiscock’s ‘Silver Coin’ which is the sexiest song I know. Audrey’s arousement was obvious. I could have hung my coat on her nipples.

“Play Abbey Road again. It’s my favourite Beatles album.”

As ‘Come Together’ started, so did we. Although Audrey didn’t cum until ‘Oh Darling’, I managed to hold out until she made me cum during ‘I Want You (He’s So Heavy). This afternoon had been a surprising delight. Her massive hooters were fun to play with.

After we had recovered, I went to the kitchen to make a large jug of Pimms. In the lounge we took long draughts of the cool refreshing drink. The alcohol was going to our heads. We were both still naked on the sofa and Audrey was obviously as horny as I was.

We fucked again. She was a great partner and orgasmed very loudly as I rode her or her, me. At one point, still conjoined we rolled onto the floor and rolled across the carpet to the sheepskin rug in front of the fire, fucking as we rolled. I was getting tired and slipped out.

The sweat on both our bodies made us slippery. Audrey sandwiched my dick between her jugs and gave me a tit-wank while I reached behind her and fondled her bum cheeks. My middle finger inched its way across her perineum and into her pussy. With me on my back, Audrey straddled me and lowered her snatch onto my cock. It took only a few minutes of frantic fucking for us both to cum.

I went upstairs to the bathroom and brought down a warm wet flannel and a towel and wiped her over then dried her.

“I need to go home for dinner. You’ve passed. I’ll see you again sometime soon.” Audrey told me as she kissed me farewell.

I didn’t understand her comment “You’ve passed” but hoped that we could have another screw soon. We move in different circles. The farmers kept largely to themselves and I didn’t see her again until nearly Christmas.

Young Farmers Club

In our village, there were four farms. All reared cattle. The four farmer’s wives gathered in one another’s large kitchens where they cooked on their Aga stoves which were always hot, so the kitchens were always warm even, like now, in winter. They would gather in the kitchens, drinking tea, coffee and wine while gossiping and running the day to day business of the farms.

Their children, as well as the younger members of the Young Farmer’s Club, socialised together and being used to breeding cattle, spent a lot of time mating themselves.

One of the youngest farmwives was Ellen, a pretty MILF in her late twenties who had been a member of the Young Farmers Club for fifteen years since she became a teen and her late parents had encouraged her to join, She had lost her virginity at thirteen prompted by watching their bull mating with some of the heifers and accepting the next young farmer who propositioned her. She had inherited the farm five years ago after a terrible collision with a lorry on the motorway had wiped out her parents and her siblings. The only injury to Ellen resulted in her having a deep scar across her left breast that crossed her nipple that she could hide by wearing a suitable bra.

Ellen is quite pretty, only slightly chunky with largish breasts and long naturally curly, light hair with a touch of ginger. One afternoon, she was chatting in the kitchen to her friends while preparing a meal for John, her husband and their one year old daughter. John was out on the old tractor, carrying cattle feed to the cows because, being winter, the cattle were housed in the barn.

The girls finished their tea and the first of them, Judy, left. A few minutes later, they all heard a crash followed an intense scream from Judy outside. Paula, Julie and Beverley went outside to find out what was wrong with their friend. On seeing what the problem was, Paula stopped Ellen at the door, blocking her exit.

John had had an accident. The strain of lifting the feed on the fork-lift had been too much and a bolt had cracked and parted. John’s head had been in the way when the mechanism had fallen, crushing his head between the metal and the concrete pathway. Nothing could be done. His brains were splattered over the ground.

John’s funeral was a sad affair. He had been well known and liked throughout the village since he was a little boy even before he attended the village primary school.

An investigation into the accident showed that there should have been four bolts and three had previously gone missing. Farming is dangerous work and equipment should be regularly checked.

His death would have been instantaneous. He wouldn’t have felt a thing.

Ellen was heartbroken. Not only because of her loss of John, but also because she had a strong sex-drive but nobody to enjoy it with.

A few weeks later, the YFC held their mid-winter ball in the barn of one of the farms. The barn had an ox-roast just outside the door and a bar selling real ale, cider, wine and soft drinks. Tickets had been sold in the village pub for the past month. It promised to be a good do, so naturally, without a current girlfriend, I bought one hoping that I would meet a lady there.

The music was provided by a showman’s steam organ powered by a hundred and thirty year old traction engine. As well as original music from punched cards, it had also been upgraded to play midi files from a laptop so there were modern hits as well as songs from the ‘20s when it was first built.

Tombola tickets were £20 each for male YFC members only with each prize being a plain envelope attached to the tickets. The proceeds would go to a disabled farmer’s charity. At this high price I wondered what the prizes would be. Not that I was eligible to buy a ticket.

As one does at parties where you don’t know many people, I looked around the tables for single women. Audrey was dancing with some bloke I didn’t know. Her boobs were jiggling enticingly. I hadn’t seen her since our summer screw. Not even in the pub. Our social lives never crossed. She gave me a little wave when she noticed me. There were several people who I recognised including two women who I’d screwed after Black Betty games but they were all dancing.

I noticed one attractive young lady sitting by herself after the others at her table had got up to dance with their partners. I walked over to her as she sat alone. “Would you like a dance?”

“Yes please. Hans isn’t it? I’m Ellen.”

Our first dance was quite lively, as was the second. She was a very good mover. We enjoyed several more before the pre-programmed music changed to slower dances. Ellen was tight in my arms with her thighs pressing against the erection that I couldn’t suppress.

“Want to get some food?” I asked her.

As we walked to the door, she took my hand, caressing it warmly.

We bought rolls with slabs of the barbequed beef and plates of salad and walked back in with our free arms around each other.

“Drink?” I asked.

“Cider please.”

“A women after my own heart.”

“I suppose you’re hoping that if you get me utterly slarmied, I’ll take you home for a good time?”

I nodded.

“Don’t worry, I’m not used to drinking. I’m a lightweight - it will only take another pint or two! I haven’t been touched by a man since John, my husband died four months ago. Your reputation has preceded you. All the guys seem to think it’s been too soon since John’s funeral to make a move. It’s actually been the longest I’ve been without sex since I was thirteen. I want you. Take me home now, please.”

We walked half a mile to Ellen’s farmhouse. While we were walking, Ellen told me “Because we left the Midwinter Ball early, we missed the tombola draw. Tickets were £20 each for sale to male YFC full members only or their fathers. In each envelope attached to the prize tickets was a photo of one of the female members with her name and phone number on the back or if necessary, of a bottle of expensive wine to make up the numbers. Every bloke who buys a ticket receives a good prize although they don’t know what, or who, it is until they open the envelope. It’s possible to get your own wife or the woman you have just dumped. It’s rare that a coupling doesn’t happen though some couples don’t go through with it. What a waste of twenty quid!

I wasn’t asked to participate this year because it was considered to be too soon since John’s death for me to be to be a random screw. I’ve enjoyed it in the past even when I’ve been won by a fat middle-aged farm worker. They always clean themselves up, put on aftershave – sometimes too much, especially the teens, take Viagra and do their best. There’s nothing like a random fuck to clear up the blues on the longest night. That was how I first ended up in John’s bed. We both got lucky that night.

More than half of the women are willing to be prizes. Sex with the same person for fifty years gets boring and this livens up bedtime for both. Mothers and grandmothers persuade both daughters and granddaughters. The girls persuade their mums and grannies. Dads their sons. My mum and dad allowed each other to partake since the tradition started in the late ‘60s when they were in their twenties. It was started by Ted and Nora – your grandparents. My dad had your grandmother in 1973! Swinging was all the rage then ... Car keys in a bowl ... Spin the bottle ... Those sort of cocktail parties.

It’s the closest thing to the Roman Saturnalia festival. Farm owners end up with the wives or daughters of their workers and their wives with the workers. Rich with poor, workers with land owners.

It’s considered very bad manners to reveal your pairings though it’s usually possible to guess by who dances with whom. On very rare occasions, a woman will be completely ignored by whoever won her. That is considered an insult though it’s possible to determine who it is by elimination. He will be ignored by her friends for years. John said it was easiest to just close his eyes and fuck who ever he had won if he got an unattractive woman. A woman’s appearance bears no relationship to how good they are in bed.

Since Julie has been organising what is known as the Yule Swap, If a couple who are paired are of close family members such as siblings or parents, the envelopes are withdrawn until the last has been claimed. The withdrawn envelopes are shuffled and reissued. Your in-laws don’t count. They are considered to be fair game and you may be paired with your wife’s sister, mother, or even grandmother. After all it’s a small community and we’ve been marrying our neighbours for generations. There are only three surnames for seventy percent of us.

The year after I married John, I was won by Jim, John’s grandad. He had a fatal heart attack while he was screwing me. He came and went in the same breath. It was horrible for me, but John’s granny said it was how he’d have wanted to die.

My brother took part in the year after his voice broke. My little sister as soon as her breasts started developing. She wasn’t a virgin. My brother made sure of that. My other sister lost her virginity that way to a very gentle young man. Between the ball and Christmas, the local villages are hothouses of rumpy pumpy. The atmosphere is electric. Relationships are made or remade but rarely broken. Several weddings have resulted – including mine, and rumour has it, a few abortions as well. The divorce rate in this area is lower than the national average.

Since the law on ‘age of consent’ changed when we joined the EU In the seventies, we girls and women have had to sign more forms giving consent and the under eighteens have been separated out and the young girls are in different colour envelopes that can only be opened by teenage boys. For the adults, it’s completely random on who we’re assigned to fuck.

There is only the cost of a tombola ticket for the men. There is no charge for the ladies to participate. We just have to donate the use of our bodies.

Our friend Emily never takes part even though she buys her husband a ticket. Neither does Susie and she’s single. Susie refuses to let anybody see her naked for some reason, even if we go to somebody’s private back-garden pool in summer. Something to do with an embarrassing birthmark, I’m told.”

“I know about ‘the blotch’. It’s larger than her left breast which it entirely covers. I’ve seen it. I’ve touched it. I’ve even fondled it. She hates it although she’s slowly accepting others seeing it.”

“As bad as the scar on my tit?”

“I don’t know I’ve never see that.”

“Wait till you get me home. I’ll let you explore all of me, inside and out”. Emily gets her satisfaction from her husband’s descriptions of what happened when he was having fun – very strange.

When I first took part it wasn’t unusual for one of the new teens to be replaced by a parent or older sibling. My mum told me that It was too early for me to take part, so she had the middle-aged farmer worker instead. She told me that he was disappointed to be fucking a thirty year old woman rather than her eleven year old daughter, so was quite rough with her. When I was twelve, my sister, who was three years older, eagerly volunteered to take on the twenty five year old guy who’d been assigned to me the evening after she’d serviced her own guy. I was thirteen and sexually active by next year after losing my cherry at a party in what is now your cottage. We made over £600 for the charity last year.

Julie has organised it since your grandmother died. She may be in her late forties, but she loves to fuck. Both your grandparents took part until Ted died and Nora, the year after. My best friend, Judy was won last year by Jim Brigson, one of the oldest farmers in the next village. He’s nearly ninety.” Judy said “He was a widower. He was SO grateful. She told me he was also a bit smelly and limp. She refused to give him a blowjob.

She just let him hump her when she’d managed to get him hard enough with her hand and a shared shower. Our friend, Gracie was won by a sixteen year old farm hand. She’s over three times his age. She was grateful as well, though a bit sore afterwards.

Jeremy (Paula’s son) was only eighteen and won his own mother. – Embarrassing! He swapped envelopes with Ed, his best mate who had won his own sister-in-law and has been calling him ‘Motherfucker’ ever since.

Brian, Judy’s husband won Audrey. It wasn’t the first time that they’d screwed each other, but it was the first time that they’d done it with her permission – not that she didn’t know the previous times of course. Audrey is a good friend of hers and girls talk more than our blokes think we do. We know a lot more about you, Roger and the goings on at your cottage than you may know. We Young Farmers have our own games of ‘Black Betty’. Audrey, Susie and Steve have all played with you and taught us to play.

You probably remember Audrey – Long straight blonde hair; huge boobs; twenty six years old; loves the Beatles, and a real screamer when she cums. She has spent a couple of nights with Roger and intends to try you out sometime.”

“She did last summer. Said something about ‘You’ve passed.’ I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

“Well it looks as though you’ll be able to play, next year if it’s approved at the AGM next month. Look forward to it.”

We had reached the farmhouse, opened the door and went in.

“You’re back early. I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of hours. Good time?” asked the babysitter.

“Yes, I hope so. It was wonderful. This is Hans.”

“Hans, this is Vikki or ‘Bike’ as John always called her.”

I recognised Vikki because she’s a regular at the pub. She’s a late teen, and of negotiable affections. Reputedly a few pints of cider are enough to make her drop her panties and half a dozen double vodka and tonics are guaranteed to get them off. She’s overweight but makes up for it by having huge floppy boobs that she never hides but emphasises with push-up bras. She referred to herself as being a BBW (big beautiful woman). I thought of her as just fat.

At the pub she drinks too much and when she leaves at closing time, is rarely either sober or with the same guy. My housemate, Roger has fucked her several times when he’d been desperate had even ended up at her flat with half a dozen of his mates having a gang-bang. She has offered herself to me many times but I have always been put off by her weight, floppy tits, tramp stamps (tattoos) and piercings.

Vikki raised an eyebrow when I walked in the door hand in hand with Ellen and while Ellen went upstairs to check on her daughter, asked me “Why her when you could have this nineteen year old pussy any time? Did you win her in the Tombola?”

“Because she’s a MILF and I fancy her more than you.” Vikki stuck her tongue out at me then smiled to prove that she was joking.

“If you ever want a shag, come to me in the pub and say the magic words ‘I want a fuck’ and we’ll go to my flat and spend the rest of the night screrwing our brains out.”

Vikki stood on her toes and kissed me so I tweaked both her oversized boobs, surprised that both nipples had metal going through them.

Ellen came downstairs and after paying Vikki her fee and turning off the TV took me upstairs to a bedroom while Vikki closed the front door after herself.

Ellen led me to a bedroom down a corridor at the back. “This is not my parent’s old master bedroom were I usually sleep. I used to use that bed to sleep with and make love to John – it would feel like cheating on him. I’m not ready to do that yet. I just need my oats. This is my childhood room where I fucked my boyfriends when my parents were out. Want to see my scar?”

I helped Ellen remove her dress and she unbuttoned my shirt and unzipped my fly. When she took off her bra, the scar was revealed. “Sssss,” I said between my teeth “That looks nasty. Must have been very painful.”

“Not as painful as giving birth to Charlotte. It was a piece of metal in the crash. The same piece of metal that decapitated my mother. Still, better scarred than dead. She looked extremely sad, so I hugged her and kissed her. I slipped out of my boxers and into the woman.

Her ankles were behind my neck

As I entered her, and slowly moved back and forth. She moved with me, welcoming me into her body with a passion she had forgotten that she possessed since her husband died.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” I muttered. “I’m not as strong as I used to be when I was younger!”

“Come in me now” Ellen encouraged me clenching her pussy muscles. Her moist pussy was pleasingly cumfortable.

“This must be a record! Son-of-a-beetch!”. I climaxed, collapsing on top of her, my body ridden with spasms.

Ellen came immediately after me, sighing my name, raking my back with her nails. We rolled across the duvet still joined together.

‘Ghod Almighty!’ l started to laugh. ‘I haven’t come that quickly since I was in college! I just blew my reputation in one fell swoop!’

She laughed with me. ‘What reputation?’

Ellen was greedy in her desires. She was also accomplished, slick and worth much more than the cost of my ticket to the ball, a beef roll and three pints of cider. She told me that she actually enjoyed me motor-boating her boobs.

She was lightly accommodating rather than particularly tight. This was as I would have expected from a woman who gave birth a year ago and was regularly doing her Kegel exercises. She provided the perfect warmth, moisture and pressure on my knob as it was going in and out of her. She was deep enough to accommodate me right to the hilt where her labia provided enough pressure to hold me in. She squeezed the right muscles at the perfect times. I had trouble keeping myself from cumming again (and having to end the fuck to recover) as she pounded her vagina onto my prick as, naturally, she rode me as a cowgirl.

Ellen was an absolute delight. She filled every one of my desires until she could cum no more and I allowed my spunk to spurt into her. Her late husband had been a very lucky man. The sounds that she was making were enough to wake her daughter in the nursery next door.

“Leave her. She’ll be O.K. just continue to fuck me.”

How was I to turn down a request like that?

“Stick your dick back in, Sweety.” My kisses started on her lips and moved downwards to her neck then when she had started purring, further downwards to her breasts and nipples. She screeched when I nibbled a teat with my teeth and put her hand on my head, pushing it down and away.

I acknowledged her pushing by tracing my tongue downwards. Across her belly, through her trimmed pubes and to the aromatic slit beneath. I used my long tongue to lick her inside, the tip of my tongue reaching past the smoothness of her labia to the courseness of her ‘G’ spot while my nose stroked her clitoris. Her voice rose as her arousal increased, her “Oh my ghod”s “Yes”es, “Deeper”s, “More”s, cries of passion and eventual screams woke Charlotte next door who started crying.

“She’s fine. I need to keep my voice down. Don’t stop.”

Ellen had made my mind up. I resumed my pummelling away. She was coming to the boil again. She bucked and thrashed and scratched and octave forward and back through the vowels. Again I spurted into that cumfortable pussy.

“That was amazing.” Ellen told me as she moved away from me. “I lost count of the number of orgasms I had. You?”

“I’m a man. Normally one per screw. But that was two. You are amazing.”

Ellen kissed me and got out of bed to visit Charlotte. When she quickly returned, under the duvet my hands roamed over the skin of that lovely body.

“Again?”

“Of course!”

After a ten minute rest, we mated again until we went to sleep utterly satisfied only to be awakened by baby Charlotte crying in the next room. When I left, just before lunchtime next day, I knew that I would be back for seconds as soon as I could arrange it. Ellen phoned me just before midnight the next evening with a booty call. Another the following night ... and it became a regular occurrence for the next few months that we both enjoyed. Ellen even gave me a key so I could let myself in.

Birthday treat.

Ellen phoned me on the afternoon of my birthday in February.

“Happy birthday, Hans. I’ve got a present here for you. Come over now to get it.”

Fifteen minutes later, I let myself in. She kissed me quite passionately. I suspected what the present would be – Her.

“It’s upstairs on the bed.” It looked as though my suspicions were correct. I opened the door. Lying on the bed was Judy, completely naked apart from a red bow that was tied round her perky boobs with the wide ribbon across and partially hiding her nipples. She was lying on her back with her arms and legs spread out. A red inch diameter birthday candle was seated in her vaginal folds. Ellen took a match and lit it.

“I thought I would get you something that we could both enjoy.”

Judy was a MILF who Ellen knew that I really fancied. She was Ellen’s best friend. Judy was about five years older than Ellen. Her face was pretty with shoulder length ginger hair and a ‘healthy’ robust body with a smattering of freckles. When I undid the bow, I could see that her perky boobs were slightly smaller than Ellen’s, probably a B cup. Her bush had been completely shaved. I could see her inner labia glistening in the afternoon light where the candle entered her. Her arms raised to hold me against her. I could feel my erection as it strained at my fly.

“Thank you. It’s just what I wanted.”

Behind me, I could hear the rustle of Ellen’s clothes coming off while I blew out the candle and removed it being careful not to drop melted wax on Judy’s naked nether regions.

“When Ellen told me what fun you were in bed, I thought that I’d have to try you for myself.” Judy told me huskily.

Ellen reached in front of me and undid my fly, then my belt. I helped her as my trousers, sweatshirt and boxers made a pile on the floor. I turned round and kissed her while caressing her naked back.

“Aren’t you going to try your present?” she whispered in my ear,

“When she’s ready.”

“I’ve been ready since I heard you open the front door and looking forward to it since we had the idea, last week.”

“Then brace yourself, wench!”

Judy whimpered as my cock slid into her. “Mmmmh. Yeah. Deeper. Oh my ghod. Yesss.”

Her lustful tongue filled my mouth as I pounded my cock into Judy’s welcoming coochie. After her first climax (I could tell that it was genuine by the spasms round my dick) she rolled me over so I could stroke her bum while her hips drove her snatch on and off me. She raised herself so she was on her knees and rode me with her slightly soft boobs bouncing up and down.

Ellen appeared beside us and kissed me. Her tongue licked round the inside of my lips. Mine met hers. Our tongues were soon tangling in our mouths. One of my hands reached up to fondle Judy’s tits while the other reached down to Ellen’s sopping wet pussy.