Chapter 3

I rode a bike with Charlie and Edward around the village. The one they lent me to use was a bit too small for me. They seemed to be looking for something to do as well. Their flat was just as dull and unexciting.
They didn’t have any video games, and the television was an old set-top box that only received broadcast channels. There was a documentary about what a festering sod Jimmy Savile was on one channel, static on the other, and another documentary on cheeses of the Netherlands on the other. The static was the most interesting of the three programs.

I didn’t get very good signal on my cell phone, and they had no computer. There were almost no books and what they did have was cheap romance paperback novels in Joy’s room. Sophie had a couple Percy Jackson novels and a biography of Taylor Swift. I tried to read them because I was that bored.

I found myself frequently coming back downstairs to the living room simply because I had exhausted all other forms of entertainment for myself. My cousins didn’t keep their mother constantly performing dares like a trained circus animal. They were rare and perhaps that is what made them far more interesting.

I will give you a prime example. It is shocking that more people in South Godstone hadn’t gone mad simply from the tedium of the place. There was fuck all to do there. Things were so tedious around South Godstone that I rode up and down the street counting the flat numbers and then adding them to see if there were any interesting patterns.

It is no surprise that I kept checking the flat to see if a dare was taking place. I didn’t want to direct the dares. My reasoning was that I thought it was probably wrong to give my aunt dares and I wasn’t sure if she would tell my mother. Joy was boisterous and it was very possible she’d thinking nothing of bragging about something I dared her to do to my mom as she had Mr. Langford.

My curiosity, coupled with the encroach of boredom on the first day, were not the only reason I kept hoping to catch another glimpse of a dare happening. It was fun and funny and a little arousing – despite Joy being my aunt and more than twice my age. I simply wasn’t prepared to fully be honest with myself.

It stays bright out much longer in the summer months, so you have a lot of time during the day. It wasn’t quite supper time (last meal of the day after tea), and it would be dark in a few hours.

I happened upon my Aunt Joy outside in the garden getting on the Edward’s bike. It was clearly intended for a teenage boy.

She was wearing a one-piece strappy red negligee that did nothing to cover her butt. She was wearing the same black knickers (or ones like them), her red garters, black hose, 4-inch heels, and she had done up her hair.

“What are you doing, Joy?” I found it difficult to suppress the urge to at least call her Aunt Joy.

“Edward dared me to ride his bike to the petrol store and buy some gum. He said I can’t chew and pedal at the same time. So, I am proving him wrong, but some chance I have on this bike. I haven’t ridden one in years, and I can’t even get out of the garden.”

“You have never ridden a bike to the petrol station, even in clothes?”

“I am not blooming Lady Godiva; I haven’t ridden a bike in me birthday suit either,” she said. I briefly recalled hearing of a nude bike ride through England, but it sounded like something sensational, and I didn’t know much about it. I knew that even dressed as she was Joy would get a lot of attention.

She struggled to pedal the bike and balance on it without falling over as she practiced on the garden tile.

“Where are Charlie and Edward?” I asked.

“Caw, I don’t know,” Joy shrugged.

“Aren’t they going to watch you?”

“Nah, they know their mum will give it a try. They might take a peep out of my window as my big butt heads down Lagham Road, but they seldom go with me on dares anymore.”

That seemed odd and somewhat disappointing. My first thought was to ask how could you be sure she completed the dare. My second though was that it would be fun to watch her laugh and giggle as the bumpy road forced her butt to jiggle. My third was it may be helpful to come along in case something went wrong.

The Crumps told me that not everyone appreciated her antics and sometimes they confronted her or called her names like strumpet or whore. When I offered to go with her, she brightened and thanked me. “You will? Aren’t you just a gentleman.”

I had already ridden a bike around South Godstone twice and knew exactly where the Petrol station was. There was only one in this tiny town. The Shell wasn’t very far, just up on the Station Road that led to the train station. It was a little over 300 meters from my aunt’s flat.

We practiced a little on the road out in front of the flat. A few boys younger than me and their sister pointed at her butt and laughed. My Aunt kept lifting her ass off of the seat. Her big butt cheeks were exposed any time she tried to pedal. The more she tried to pedal the small bike the more she tried to stand and hunch over. Even though she wore knickers, they were in the crack of her ass and gave the impression that she was naked.

Joy acknowledged them and blushed, but she didn’t take offense. “Freddy Mercury was singing about me when he sang fat bottomed girls,” she said. She loved Freddy Mercury and sang a few of his lyrics as she gained confidence. She started riding her bike the opposite direction of the petrol station.

“It’s just up here, Joy,” I said.

“I’ve lived here for four years,” Joy smiled politely and laughed. “I know exactly where it is. I have to take the long way. That’s the dare,” she said.

What started out as a few minutes on a bike quickly stretched into twenty minutes as we rode up Lagham and looped around until we were back at her flat. She waved up to Charlie and Edward who were watching from her bedroom window as if she is riding in a Triathlon.

Most people out watering their lawns were friendly and waved. They knew her name and wished her a good evening. She knew theirs. There were a few who shot her angry glances.

“I don’t gossip, but her husband is shagging one of the waitresses as the Fox and Hound,” she whispered. Fox and Hound is a tavern just outside of the village.

We rode past Saint Stephen’s Church. It’s an old church but you can’t throw a stone in England without hitting one of those. There was nothing remarkable about it save for the fact it was probably the largest structure in the village.

“You don’t feel sacrilegious riding past a church?” I asked.

“Just because my fanny is hanging out?” she giggled, and we rode past it again. “No, I do not believe so,” she said.

I asked her what her favorite dares were so far. She said there were too many to mention and that she liked the one I gave her to do today.

“I was concerned you might be angry that it was.” I stopped short of telling her why it was.

“Degrading? Humiliating? That’s the point of a dare. You think I don’t know people are laughing at me, Timothy?” the question was rhetorical. She asked, “The important thing is did YOU enjoy watching me doing it?”

“Kind of, yes,” I admitted. I didn’t want to sound like a pervert.

“What good is a dare if the person giving it to you doesn’t enjoy watching you?” She asked rhetorically.

I replied by reminding her that Charlie and Edward hadn’t watched this dare.

“Yes, but as I said earlier, they know I am doing their dare and as long as they know I’ll keep myself honest and not cheat to finish early or save myself a little dignity then I am happy if they are happy! This bike ride is exhausting anyway,” she huffed a little as she pumped the pedals up an inclined street.

“You mentioned saving yourself dignity? I thought you enjoyed having none?” I asked.

“I have SOME, Timothy,” she seemed really amused by the assertion that she didn’t have any dignity at all. “I don’t put on airs like Emma might,” she referenced my mother. It would be fair to say that my mom was a dignified example of a middle-class working mother, but not anyone particularly prideful or regal.

“I am a tubby little slag with fat tits and an even fatter titties, and I know that. I give up some dignity when I do these dares and I know the jokes on me,” she laughed.

I wanted to ask her if the humiliation ever hurt her feelings, but her eyes were twinkling, and she seemed to be having fun. I was enjoying talking to my aunt more than I thought I would.

“What could I have done to make the dare you gave more enjoyable?” she asked.

“Squawked a bit like a real bird?” I finally suggested as we coasted down a hillier part of the village. I wasn’t even watching the surprised faces of some of the people. The ones who lived further away from her did seem much more shocked to see a woman in a skimpy negligee than the ones closest to her.

“Ha-ha-ha, well then why didn’t you dare me?”

“I didn’t want to seem cruel,” I said.

“Cruel? What’s cruel about it? If I said yes, then it’s my own fool head that is squawking by my choice. You’ve got to learn something Timothy that took me a lot longer than you’ve been alive to finally understand. You can’t live a life of regret wondering about what might have happened if you took a risk and did something foolish. I tried that for many years, and it cost me a marriage and a nice house. I don’t do that any longer but now I am a fat-ass slapper with more belly than brains.”

“You are not,” I insisted.

“I know what I am, Timothy,” she looked at me rather seriously and, in that moment, I saw my mother’s countenance staring back at me. Joy seemed dead serious, but it only lasted a moment. Then she stood up and began to pedal harder, each time she pushed her legs down her ass cheeks lifted up and down like pistons working her mighty buttocks. “I am enjoying sitting on this bike seat, but it is killing my legs,” she changed the subject and giggled lightly.

When she was finally ready to go to the petrol station, she had gone the length of the village at least twice. She wobbled a little as she got off. The most remarkable thing was she pedaled with high heels. She bragged that she practices quite a bit in the heels. “These are my most sturdy pair,” she said as we walked in.

There was only one car filling up with petrol outside. The man at the pump stared at her buttocks as we walked in. We left our bikes unlocked. You can’t do that in London but in a village like this you’d see the person who stole your bike again the next day and know exactly who it was because it was so small.

The cashier didn’t seem surprised when Joy sashayed into the store. A few customers looked shocked and one of the older women looked down her nose at both of us. I realized I was WITH her now and people regarded as a package even though I was wearing normal clothes and not doing anything out of the ordinary.

“Condoms?” the cashier asked.

I could sense that Joy’s legs were throbbing from the workout. “I’ve plenty, Harry! Too many. Perhaps you can help me use them up some time,” she flirted with the older man. He held up his ring as his answer.

“Your wife can come too! The more the merrier,” she offered.

The blonde older lady huffed angrily at both of us like a royal looking down at unwashed peasants. Joy smiled pleasantly and scratch her big, bare butt cheek as she stood at the counter and asked for a single pack of gum. She removed a credit card from between her tits and offered it to him.