Robert Fisher, the game-keeper to Lord Astley, had cancelled a planned trip to market: the Cook had winked at him when he had seen her earlier in the day, and he knew what that meant - he'd get more than a piece of pigeon pie if he called at her house later. And so it had proved. Telling his son, Tom, that he would be away in the dell, checking on his Lordships young grouse (a job Tom thought boring, and which would certainly ensure his staying away), he had in fact headed straight for Cook's humble home, with its thatched roof, smoking chimney, and the delicious smell of baking bread surrounding the place like a cloud. He had been entertained in the good lady's bed for over an hour, until she suggested he leave before her husband popped in for his elevenses.

So it was with happy recent memories in his mind that he wandered back through the wood, swinging his right arm freely, and his 12-bore shotgun, in the 'broken' position, tucked under his left. He reached the clearing where he had set out a small vegetable patch and flower garden, beyond which stood his wooden shack. He paused, thinking he heard a female voice. He heard it again, a long, tremulous moan, not unlike the noises Cook had been making earlier. Treading carefully, he advanced among the runner beans and carrots to peer through a gap in the cabin wall.

What he saw caused the impulsive part in his trousers to leap and strain against the material. His son was kneeling on the palliasse with a girl's legs, encased in black stockings, resting on his shoulders. He was gripping her thighs and swinging them back and forth on his swollen and leaping part, which Robert could see was slipping in and out of the girl. A mixture of blood and juice was being forced out of her with every thrust. Meanwhile on the floor, behind Tom, a second girl had one hand down her knickers, scrabbling in the curls, whilst the other was pulling and pinching the upstanding nipples on her proud breasts.

Robert stood there, transfixed, rubbing his extended part, which was still slick from its earlier work, whilst the girl entertaining his son screamed in ecstasy. The other girl, got up and ducked her head towards the conjunction of the other two, where Tom was now pistoning furiously. Suddenly he thrust deeply, and more juices oozed from the glistening lips which gripped his member. After a moment of stillness, he sat back on his haunches, and Robert moved round the corner of the dwelling, silently opening the door. He was uncaring of being seen now, and he rubbed himself briskly whilst he watched the second girl lap at the rich juices coating her friend's glossy chestnut curls. Just as he felt himself pass the point of no return, she looked up, and watched open-mouthed as his own juices erupted violently, splashing across the floor.

Tom glanced round, and turned bright red. While father and son stared at each other as if mesmerised, Clara leaned forward, almost absent-mindedly, and licked Tom's truncheon clean, making it bound in his hand, while his father watched a slow smile cross her face.

'Hi, Dad, ' said Tom.

Robert interpreted Clara's expression correctly, and crossed the floor towards her.

'Hello, son, ' he said, nodding his head briefly to his offspring, whom he noticed was a chip off the old block in more ways than one. 'Who might you be?' he asked Clara.

'I'm Clara. This is Emily. We both work at the big house, ' she explained.

'You're a fine-looking woman, Clara. Welcome to my humble home. You seemed to be missing out on the fun. Perhaps I could make it up to you.'

Her eyes had hardly left his still-standing part. Now, she nodded and smiled. 'Best come a bit closer, ' she said, reaching for him.

Whilst she took him in her hand, and brought him to her soft mouth, he let his moleskin trousers fall to the floor, and stepped out of them. His shirt followed, and Tom had the unusual experience of being naked with his father, in front of two young women, nearly naked themselves.

The unusualness of the situation had not dawned on Emily, who, as a first-timer, had no idea of what was 'normal' in such situations. Consequently, she was not deterred, nor embarrassed; she saw only that Clara was having fun and she wasn't, and Tom was sitting there like a spare part.

His vital piece of equipment was at the moment pointing towards the floor, and she leaned over and tentatively took it in her hand. It twitched bravely, in an attempt to rise to the occasion, rather as a man in a hospital bed, having just had both legs amputated, might attempt to rise to greet a lady. She took his face in her hands and turned his head away from his father, and towards her.

'Come on, Tom: don't let them have all the fun.'

She opened her lips and slipped them over the tip of his drooping part. It leapt in her grip, and, aided by her ministrations, began to stiffen.

Beside them, Robert was examining Clara's breasts, seeking in vain any flaws in their perfection. They fitted comfortably in his hands, and the nipples were reaching towards him in a very satisfying manner. He teased them with the point of his tongue, and clamped them lightly between his lips, treatment which was very obviously appreciated.

'Turn over, girl, ' said Robert, grasping Clara by the thighs and helping her to turn so she knelt on hands and knees on the palliasse. Her bottom jutted towards him, and he let his fingers trace the outline of her opening purse. Clara widened her legs, enjoying the sensation of a new position. Robert slipped a finger inside. It emerged glistening with a coating of moisture, which revealed the extent of Clara's excitement. He gradually worked a second, then a third, finger inside, until she was moaning with pleasure.

Emily was intrigued. 'Tom!' she said, drawing his attention back to her, and nodded at Clara and his father. She turned onto her hands and knees, bringing the heads of both girls together. Following his father's example, Tom fingered her opening, and gently pushed his fingers, one at a time, in. The girls were tongue-kissing each other, whilst behind them, father and son together positioned their massive engines of love and slowly, gently, pressed them home, into the warm receptacles nature provided.

Robert slid one hand round Clara's thigh, and used a finger to rub the stiff little bud which gave her so much pleasure. She moaned and wriggled to encourage him. With his other hand, he leaned slightly forward and grasped one of her full, heavy breasts, and squeezed it. Tom copied these moves, and both girls were soon writhing in ecstasy. Tom and Robert both pulled back, looking down at their glistening staffs before shoving them back into the smooth welcoming scabbards each girl provided.