Chapter 5

Around mid-day on Monday I strolled over to Jack McCowall's garage. He emerged wiping his hands on an oily cloth. Why is it they do that? It must be part of basic car mechanic's training.

"What's the damage, Jack?"

"Well, laddie, that depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On how long you want to stay," he grinned.

I blushed. "Well, I don't know." I looked at his sympathetic smile. "Hell, Jack, to be honest I'd as rather write the car off and be stuck here for ever." I sighed. "But I've got responsibilities elsewhere and a living to earn. How about tomorrow."

"Tomorrow it is."

"By the way, what is the problem?"

"A fuse."

I laughed, the tears streaming down my face. It wasn't really that funny but something broke inside me and I howled with mirth. "A fuse? My God, I could have fixed that myself."

"Aye, well."

I sobered. "But I'm damn glad I didn't." I stuck out my hand. "Thanks Jack. I'll see you tomorrow."

I strolled back to the pub, whistling.

"You seem mighty cheerful," Mary greeted me.

"Oh, aye. Jack won't have the car fixed till tomorrow."

"I thought you'd want to get away."

"Now, why would I want that?" I grinned and goosed her.

"Paul MacInnes, you mind them wandering hands," she exclaimed, but she stepped into my arms and kissed me deeply.

"I do really have to go." I answered her unspoken question.

"I know you do. It's only wishful thinking."

I sighed. "I know. I wish it wasn't." I looked are her intently, this dark, sensual woman who somehow seemed out of place in a small, run-down mining village. "I will always be grateful to you. You, and the girls, have shown me more than I ever knew before - and I don't just meant the sex."

She smiled but there were tears in her eyes. She touched a finger to my lips. "Hush. Before we say things that can't be unsaid." Then the old Mary was back with the twinkle in her eye. "Tonight we'll give you a right royal sending-off."

I was on tenterhooks all the rest of the day wondering what a 'right royal sending-off' might involve.

After dinner I was told to wait in the living room while the three women prepared. I sat and waited impatiently, my heart thumping and my cock already hard.

I didn't have long to wait. There was shuffling and giggling outside the door and then Mary's voice telling me to close my eyes and keep them shut on pain of death. I heard them moving around, shifting things. I hardly dared to breath.

"You can open your eyes."

I blinked them open then blinked some more. "Oh, my God," I gasped.

They were dressed in the outfits I had seen when I spied on them on Saturday: black corsets, velvet opera gloves, seamed stockings and high-heeled shoes. Mary was posed in front of me, feet spread apart, pelvis thrust aggressively forward. The pose made her exposed dark bush, freshly washed and fluffed up, seem almost obscenely erotic. Held across her chest like a pipe major's baton was a riding crop. The girls posed slightly behind her and to either side. They had one foot raised on dining-room chairs. Again their bushes; Heather's like her mother's and Isobel's lighter and finer, were obscenely and erotically displayed. The message was clear. These are yours. Nothing is hidden, nothing is forbidden. I almost came in my pants.

"You like?" Mary grinned.

I gulped. "I like."

"Who is it to be?"

I knew what she meant. I could only fuck one of them. They would make sure of that. Who was it to be? I hesitated for an instant. I knew who I really wanted but I was wiser than that.

"You," I croaked.

She shook her head but I could tell I had made the right choice. "It can't be me. It has to be one of the girls."

"Well, Isobel, then." And my heart sang.

"Stand up, then, and strip off."

I did with alacrity, struggling to free my rock-hard cock from my underwear. Mary placed cushions over the edge of the table and Isobel took her position. Heather dropped to her knees in front of me, cupped my balls in one hand curled the other around my cock. I glanced down. The touch of velvet was electric and the sight of the black-clad fingers round my cock erotic in the extreme.

"You'd better not cum in my mouth," Heather grinned.

"If I do, you'll just have to start again."

"Now there's a thought."

She started in right away, her head bobbing on my cock, one hand caressing my shaft, the other gently squeezing my balls. And then she deep-throated me. She hadn't done that earlier but she did now. Before I could blink, she had taken my shaft right down her throat and her lips were pressed against my pubic hair. The thing that made oral sex from Heather so exciting was that she really seemed to enjoy it. Many women give head out of duty or because it give them a sense of power. Heather genuinely enjoyed the sensation of having a cock in her mouth. She treated it as if it was something rare and precious - a treat rather than a chore. She lavished attention on it. Her only aim was to give her partner as much pleasure as possible.

"Heather. Don't." I called.

I put my hands on her hair to try and stop her but instead buried them in the fine curls and held her there as her throat worked convulsively. It was all too much. I felt the cum bubbling up in my balls.

"Oh God. No. Yes," I cried.

My cock jerked and I thrust forward involuntarily. She milked my balls as she swallowed and swallowed and I pumped my cum directly down her throat.

Mary and Isobel were watching Heather's performance with amazement.

"Well," said Mary as Heather knelt back on her heels and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, smiling smugly. "I know we promised Paul a night to remember but that takes the biscuit."

"You're a cow, Heather," Isobel said crossly. "He chose me."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Izzy. I was just taking the edge off," Heather smirked, standing up. "So he'll last longer with you. Anyway he gets all hot and bothered just looking at you so what's your worry."

An observant girl, Heather.

"And don't call me Izzy."

"Girls. Enough," Mary remonstrated gently. "This is Paul's night and we don't want to spoil it by fighting. Heather has a point, Paul did seem to cum quite quickly. And I'm sure he has it in him to rise to the occasion when required."

This play on words was greeted by groans from the girls. Mary made Heather fetch a cloth to clean the tacky cum from my shrivelled cock. Heather took her time, rubbing her body against mine as she wiped the warm, damp cloth sensually over my genitals. At that moment I almost regretted not choosing her as my partner.

When she was finished, Mary called me over. She positioned me behind Isobel who had draped herself back across the table. She stood close behind me and reached round to hold my cock.

"I want you to look at Isobel. Look at her slender thighs. Hasn't she got a nice, tight bottom? And in between, what do you see? Doesn't it look inviting? I want you imagine what's going to happen. I want you to imagine taking your hard cock and entering my daughter. She's very tight. She'll fit you like a glove. She loves to feel a man's hardness enter her. Only fourteen and she loves sex. Picture it. It's going to happen. You're going to slide your big, hard cock into her tight little vagina. And I'm going to be watching. It will make me so horny and excited to see you have sex with my daughter."

As she was speaking, her voice low and monotonous, like a chant, she was pressing herself against my back and working my cock. I could feel her hairy pubis rub against my bottom and her large breasts squash against my back, the nipples hard as nuts. Despite having cum so vigorously and so recently, the whole scene was so unbelievably erotic that I was soon hard again.

The girls were affected, too. Heather was openly masturbating with two finger buried deep in her snatch. Isobel moaned softly and wriggled her hips. Between her spread thighs I could see the outer lips of her labia had swollen and parted revealing the pink interior.