She was really drunk. I was nearly as bad. After several gins and tonic, Helen and I were on our second jug of Pimms. It was very very warm in her garden and we had dared each other to strip down to our underwear. Out of politeness, I was trying to convince her that she had the best pair of tits: obviously it wasn’t true.
Gerald and Harry wouldn’t be back for hours, with any luck.
“You listen to everyone else’s sordid stories but you keep your past very quiet,” teased Helen.
“No I don’t, it’s just that my history is quite boring. In any case, I know very little about your life other than you like to hawk your mutton,” I replied.
“Well you know that I was born in East Sussex and that I’ve never done an actual real day’s work. I’m not knocking what they now call ‘sex work’ but doing it on a kinky bitch basis is not the same as doing it to pay the bill. Gerald was big in Insurance, as you also know, and I looked after the home. Obviously, I had two cleaning ladies and a cook to help me. When we moved to this little cottage I had to manage with just one of the village women. But one has to make sacrifices,” said Helen.
“At least I’m a genuine spoiled cow. I suspect that you are not entirely what you show the world,” she added.
“How so?” I asked, slurring the two words slightly.
“Well, you would like everyone to believe that you are an unsophisticated landlady, a rough diamond, but sometimes you betray signs of breeding way above my level,” Helen stated accusingly.
“You give all that crap about Catholic Schools and a repressed upbringing but I bet you had a wild youth,” she went on.
“It’s true I was mostly brought up by the nuns but I did have to see my parents in the holidays. I didn’t do too many naughty things but I did see quite a few,” I admitted.
“Come on, spill the beans, and I want all the nasty details,” Helen demanded.
“Well if you insist, here goes, but if you get bored to death don’t blame me,” I said.
“I was born near Wimborne Minster, so I am definitely genuine Dorset. I’ll admit that my mother was the fourth child of a well to do family. Much too low down the pecking order to stand any chance of inheriting the title.”
“There, I fucking told you that. I bet you’re lady Split-Knickers or something,” spluttered Helen.
“Oh shut up! I suppose technically I could call myself ‘The Honourable…..’ but if you ever tell anyone I’ll come round and sew your fanny up.”
“Your secret’s safe with me, m’ lady,” she laughed.
“Do you want to hear this or do you just want to take the piss?”
“I’m all ears,” Helen said.
I was tempted to say that she could get surgery for that but I let it slide.
“My father was a banker as well as a shit. He and my mother lived in Hong Kong before it was handed back. I was an only child or as they called it the mistake. I was sent to school in England and spent the holidays with them in HK. After they divorced I would spend a begrudged week with my father and the rest of the holidays with my mother.”
Helen lowered the tone by asking if that was where I lost my virginity. She went on to tell me where she lost hers and I told her where mine was slightly misplaced.
AUTHOR’S NOTE Quite rightly, the rules of Literotica.Com prevent me from Batıkent Escort giving you the details of those two events. By the way, as you probably guessed, this previously applied to information about The Yew Tree Farm Entertainment under a different Literotica rule.
I resumed my story, “I quite liked Hong Kong, it was vibrant and full of life. Unfortunately, I had to go about with a bodyguard and chaperone, to protect my virtue. Stable doors and bolted horses.”
“My father had a predilection for local girls. Unfortunately, he tended to sometimes forget that I was in the apartment. I would often hide so that I could watch their antics. He liked to lie on the dining table while two of the pretty little things would jump about and spin on his cock. It was rarely the same girls twice but they all knew what was required. They took turns to straddle his face while the other one rode the greasy pole. As a teenager, I used to think that old men wanting sex was faintly ridiculous. Now I know that he wasn’t that old.”
Helen sensed that I was drying out and poured me another glass of Pimms. I had to take a big swig before I could carry on. If anything it was getting hotter in the garden.
“Anyway, it was when he was under one of these Chinese girls that he died. It wasn’t clear if he had a heart attack or if he suffocated. The bank pulled all sorts of strings with the Hong Kong Police to keep it hush hush.”
“Fortunately, I was staying with my mother at the time. I remember that she threw a big party to celebrate. She had The Rolling Stones pumping out all night, they were her favourite band. I think at least one of them had shagged her when she was young.”
“That’s when I inherited quite a lot of money. Well, he wasn’t going to leave it to my mother, was he? It went into a Trust Fund with an annual amount paid to me. I didn’t get the bulk of it until I was fifty. With hindsight, that was a good thing. It stopped me being stupid at a young age. I had to wait until later for that.”
“My mother had a few of what she called ‘house boys’. Far more than she really needed. There were really strict taboos around the European women getting pregnant by Chinese men in those days. Her friends tried to tell her that her doctor could let her have the contraceptive pill but she was convinced that it made you fat. So I was fairly confident that they weren’t fucking her.”
“I occasionally overheard a house boy saying to her ‘you want licky licky now missy or you want wait later’, so I guess she was making alternative arrangements.”
“Because I was no longer reliant on my parent’s money, the next summer I insisted on staying with my grandmother near Wimborne Minster. She used to live in the big house until just after the war, then it was given to the National Trust in place of death duties, after that she lived in the village. I think that’s when I got my taste for the historical bizarre.”
“She would tell me about her exploits as a young woman; and not just as a young woman.”
“Her mother was a bit of a goer too. Granny recounted stories from Great Granny’s time as well.”
“I could get the bus from school to Wimborne so I spent as much time there as I could. I learned more than I ever did at school. Then I stopped going to Batıkent Escort Bayan school completely.”
“There was a pub in the village. I would love to sneak in for a half of pale ale. No-one ever questioned my age. I liked to listen to the banter in the Dorset dialect. The men were always polite to me; maybe because I had connections to the big house. That’s when I discovered the goddess that was the landlady. She dressed just plain dirty. The men would try to touch her up whenever they could but when she put them in their place they jumped. She was everything I wanted to be.”
“She was merciless to her husband. He worked tirelessly behind the bar but he had a great big grin on his face every time a hand went up her skirt or someone looked down her blouse.”
“I loved everything about the pub, the traditions, the humour and mostly the faint whiff of sexual tension.”
“The ‘pots’ that hung above the bar fascinated me. A ‘pot’ was any drinking vessel that had a handle. The glasses, tankards or mugs all belonged to regulars and could only be used by their owner. They all had something painted on them to distinguish them from all the other pots. There were Mermaids, Bent Over Nuns, Tractors, Hula Girls, Two Monkeys, Stallions and every sort of heraldic device from Wyverns to Crucifixes. Some carried a thick layer of dust like they hadn’t been touched for years. Evidently, when a customer died his pot just stayed where it was. As long as the pot still hung there the man wasn’t forgotten. Much better than a tombstone, I thought.”
“I always had a straight glass. A few regulars had their own straight painted glasses on the shelf behind the bar. It was never openly said but I got the impression it wasn’t considered quite manly to prefer a straight. You can imagine my joy the first time the landlord took a half pint glass from the shelf and told me it was mine. Painted on it was a black sheep. I got the joke straight away. I laughed and everyone in the bar laughed. To thank them I bought a round for everyone. It was probably the first occasion in my life when I felt really accepted.”
“Every so often they would have a ‘meat draw’ for charity. The customers brought tickets and the landlord would pull the winner from an old hat. The landlady and the holder of the winning number would disappear out the back for ten minutes or so. Eventually, they returned. The landlady was usually smoothing her skirt down.”
“It took me years to realise why I never actually saw any meat.”
“The village pub was where I learned the subtleties of darts and the etiquette of winning and losing. Anyone who over-enjoyed winning was a low fellow and god help a sore loser.”
“When I got back to Granny’s she was always keen to hear my thoughts on what I’d seen and heard.”
“She laughed when she told me about the war years. She would take bottles of her father’s best whisky down to the village. She knew that whisky was in very short supply. She convinced servicemen to shag her in return for a bottle of 30 year old single malt, nieve or what. When her father found out he was incandescent. He took her to Dorchester in the Bentley and said he would return for her in three hours. He ordered her to go into pubs and sell sex for the first two hours Escort Batıkent and then try to buy a bottle of whisky with whatever she made. That way she would learn that a good whisky was worth a bloody sight more than a good fuck.”
“Granny said that her mother was even more wild when she was young. She stole some ribbons from a local shop, even though she could have afforded to pay for them a thousand times over. The shopkeeper dragged her all the way to the big house. Her father paid the man and told him that he would deal with it. He then took Great-granny down to the stables. He instructed the head groom to spank her arse scarlet.”
“She said that the man tied her across the back of a horse and lifted her skirts and pulled down her drawers to reveal her bare ass. He then he did exactly what her father had instructed with all of the other grooms watching.”
“A week later she stole more ribbons, took them to the stables and threw them at the head groom. She then lifted her skirts and bent over. Granny said that her mother was never sure if it was defiance or perversion on her part. She was quite proud of the fact that by the time she got married she’d been had by all the male staff on the estate.”
“According to Granny, her mother loved trains. After she was married, she liked to buy a first-class ticket at a small rural station. She chose one that was quite a way from the next station. In those days the trains had no corridors. She looked out for a carriage that only had one gent in it. As soon as they left the station she would let the window down so the smoke could come in; she was intoxicated by the smell. She lifted her long skirts and braced herself against the door. She said that she never had a gent refuse her offer. As they pulled into the next station she opened the door and simply dropped her skirts as she stepped deftly onto the platform. If the man had finished he was lucky; if not he was embarrassed.”
“Anyway,” I said to Helen, “never mind my early years, what about you?”
Helen replied, “I’m just a Grammar School girl, my early life was boring.”
“What about that thing you and Gerald have got going, how did that start?” I asked, taking another drink.
She looked slightly lost as she tried to remember. I think it was the heat; it could have been the drink.
“Oh he’s always been into that sort of thing.”
“On our wedding night the best man and I had to help him get back to the honeymoon suite. Gerald pretended to pass out on the bed. I told the best man that I’d really been looking forward to being fucked so we did it right along side Gerald. As soon as the chap left Gerald woke up and gave me one too.”
“Still, it is really handy in business if you like watching your wife being knobbed. I’m sure that he only got as far as he did in the company because most of the directors would gangbang me at corporate events.”
It must have been the hottest day of the year. We were sitting in the shade but the sweat was running from us.
“I’m hot and drunk and I’m tied,” I told Helen.
“Me too,” she said.
“I have a big fan in my bedroom, let’s go and crash out up there.”
It took a while but we made it onto Helen’s king size bed. The fan was lovely as we lay there in our underwear. The cool breeze passed back and forth across us.
“Do you want to, you know?” she said.
“That sounds lovely but I’m pissed and I’m so so weary,.” I said, hardly able to speak.
“That’s what I hoped you’d say,” she whispered softly.
I’m not sure which of us went off first.