tagHumor & SatireThe Blanket Hornpipe

The Blanket Hornpipe

byFluggs©

"Here get that down yer."

"You trying to get me drunk, Joe?"

"The bubbles get right up yer nose."

"Well it'd only go flat, shame to waste it." As Dolly threw it down her throat, "I could get used to this."

"I'd drink it from your slipper."

The open champagne bottle finished, they started on the cider, brought in for the surrounding working folk.

"I prefer the champagne," hiccoughed Dolly.

"You, my goddess are a woman of discerning taste."

And Joseph popped a cork on a bottle of champagne. "Joseph!"

"You've worked hard this last week, you deserve it."

"But still ..." The golden bubbles dancing before her eyes seduced her into silence, a rare thing!

"Put your feet up, on my lap." They sat in the two chairs opposing each other by the fireplace. Dolly placed her surprisingly dainty booted feet onto Joe's lap.

Joe undid the lacing and removed her boots.

"Oh, you daft bugger!" Dolly said, as Joe poured champagne into her boot and supped.

"Ambrosia, nectar of the gods."

"Well, if you think I'm doing that with your boots, you can think again."

Joe took her foot in his hand and rubbed the stockinged foot, massaging the overworked feet.

"Ooh that feels good, Joe."

"Give us the other one."

Dolly sipped Champagne with her feet up, and Joe rubbing her tootsies; she felt comfortable, relaxed. Joe lit his pipe with Dolly's small feet resting on his lap. His face hidden in a cloud of smoke.

"You, Dolly have the most beautiful feet. Cinderella wouldn't fit into your shoes."

Dolly smiled, -S'pose I do have dainty feet. And she looked at her feet resting on Joe's lap and turned them a little bit here, and pointed her toes. -I do, never thought of it before.

"Shame to keep them covered." And he tugged at the stocking's toe.

"You can't pull them off from there, just like that."

"I can't?"

"You have to undo the button."

"Where's that then?"

Dolly raised her skirt and showed the top of her stocking which finished just below her knee and twisted into a knot with a button in it.

"Oh," he said, "I see that now, would have been awkward." Joe's trousers tautened to impersonating a tent pole after catching sight of Dolly's drawers. He put his pipe on the hearth and reached over, "How's it work then?" His hand coming to rest on her knee.

"You just untwirl it, like this and undo the button and then they just come down."

"I'll try it on the other one, now you've done that one. Ah, bit fiddly."

"You get used to it."

"S'pose so," he said, and he removed her stocking and hung them over the arm of his chair. Joe rubbed her naked feet. "Prettiest toes I've ever seen," he said, as he raised her little foot to his mouth and sucked her big toe. He nibbled along all the way to the pinkie. Dolly sipped her champagne. Joe pressed his thumb into the instep of her foot. He straightened her leg and brought it to rest on his shoulder and then sucked and nibbled the left. Dolly's skirts had slid up, and Joe was happy to view her knees; and then as he moved her other leg to nibble the other footsie he caught a glimpse of lace.

So now, Joe had Dolly's feet on both his shoulders. -Now comes the tricky bit, one false move. I'm doomed! Dolly had closed her eyes. This didn't mean she wasn't alert, a sleeping giant. Joe massaged her ankle, this time her calf, and every so often, as he pushed upwards his fingers would brush her knee, and touch the lace edging on her drawers. Joe dragged his chair a little closer to Dolly.

"What are you doing?" Dolly asked, one eye open.

"Making myself comfortable, I'm at full stretch here."

Dolly closed her eye. Joe had moved his chair forward, he had her knees either side of him, he was now if he edged forward between her legs. Joe leaned forward. This time as he rubbed, he allowed his fingers to rove higher, under the lace; touching the soft, warm, flesh of her thigh, comfy as a pillow, soft as marsh mallow.

He brushed his fingers over the drawers and between her legs. These wonderful drawers with their open crotch. He found the slit in her drawers his finger rested. Dolly was not offering any resistance to his fondlings, so urged on. His hand poked through the split in her open crotch drawers. He touched her curly hair. But alas, that was as far as his curious probing fingers could go. Her wondrous thighs clamped shut the object of his desire by the protective arms of the welsh stick chair. Joe had to have her off that seat, but he was also aware that to disturb her reverie could change her mood.

"I fancy a nibble," hoping this would raise Dolly from the chair that bound her.

"I noticed."

"I meant one of them salmon sandwiches, they won't keep will they? Probably curling up all ready!"

"I don't know where you put it?"

-I know where I'd like to.

Dolly rose from the chair, it gave a creak of relief as her weight eased from its spindly legs.

No sooner had Dolly made it to the kitchen table than Joe came up behind her.

-Now ... or never.

Never had a male approached a female with such trepidation bar the male spider to the black widow. He stood behind her as Dolly collected sandwiches and placed them on two plates. His arms reached round to her breast. He kissed her, the nape of her neck. She smelled of wine and cakes. The aroma of baking permeated her every pore. She stiffened under his embrace but she hadn't elbowed him aside. He rested his head on her shoulder his hand pulled up the hem of her skirt. He could see those big bloomers and giant arse constrained within. He wanted to peel them off like the rind of an orange, squeeze the juice from her ...

"What do you think you're doing?"

-OK, now. Show no fear!

"I'm going to give you a good rodgering."

"How do I know it'll be good?"

-Success.

"You're about to find out."

And he raised her skirt, looked at that fine arse its mounds hidden by taut white cotton.

"You are a fine looking woman."

Dolly wouldn't own up to it but she enjoyed being an object of desire.

Joe slid his hand between her big white thighs, the crotchless drawers yielding to his probing fingers. He bent and put his face to her backside and kissed each soft mound. He untied the cotton ribbon and her drawers dropped like a mainsail. Joe stepped back to admire this view. Big white dimpled flesh. With his hand on her cheek, he asked her to, "Step out of these." And she raised one foot and then the other. Her drawers he tossed over the wooden chair.

And here was Dolly, barefoot and bare arsed, with her skirt up around her waist. He slid his finger between the crease of her cheeks. He didn't want to risk turning her around in case the sight of him brought her out of her daydream, and reminded her he was just an old, grubby, gardener. He slid his hand to her front touched the soft white thigh, stroked the curly hair spreading over and between her legs. He pushed his finger further and slid between her lips, and he felt the moisture of her under his finger. He pushed at her again and his finger sank into her. And she was a sight as he remembered her all those years ago, but bigger. -For such a big woman she had the tiniest feet and the tightest of cunts.

Joe unbuttoned his fly; his dick free, waved at Dolly's arse.

"Put your elbows on the table." –Blimey, she's doing as I tell her. He stood between her thighs. And with her arse raised and her cunt in view, Joe with one big thrust entered her flesh. Soft as marshmallow, warm as apple pie.

Dolly moved. "Stay, still girl," he said, like he was cooing to a big shire horse. But Dolly did as he urged, but as his thrusts grew so did her desire, pent up years, now expressed. She twisted sharply, throwing Joe off her back. She stood now with her back to the table looking at Joe. Joe with his trousers round his ankles and his dick dribbling as it nodded towards her cunt. And she didn't see a grubby old gardener, no. She saw her lover, her man.

Joe lunged for her. He touched her mouth and kissed her lips, tasting champagne. She had a scent, a mingling fragrance of baking; cakes and cinnamon buns. He pushed her back onto the table. Salmon sandwiches so carefully placed scattered. Joe climbed aboard. He found her cunt with the head of his dick and pushed forward, driving into her abundance. Dolly kicked up her heels and the fairy cakes flew.

Joe thrust and Dolly thrashed. The remains of the sliced ham hit the floor, followed by the cream jug. Joe pounded harder, a cacophony of crockery rattling on pine table legs, creaking beneath the pounding flesh. Joe sought her lips, and Dolly found Joe's mouth and kissed him, powerfully, ardently. Spoons, forks, and glasses crashed from the table. Joe felt himself coming and he pulled back. -Think of celery seedlings, think of potato sets.

Dolly heaved under him.

"Just wait my beauty he cooed, hold still there."

He withdrew from her. Dolly would get cross if only she could summon up the will. Joe drank from the champagne bottle, he took the mouthful and trickled it over her cunt; he sipped it from her, supping from those full lips. He would have stayed with his face buried amongst the folds, but he couldn't contain himself, she was open, moist, and he was as hard as he could possibly be. So he jumped on her and thrust into her, over and over, she wrapped her huge thighs over his back.

-Can hardly move me arse! In one big, last thrust, Joseph lay spent and exhausted in her vice like grip. "Christ woman, that was worth the wait!"

Joe rolled off her scattering the last of the vol au vents to the floor. He held out his arm to her, helping her from the wreckage of the kitchen table. He lowered her skirt and after pushing himself back into his trousers. -Show a bit of decorum. He went down on one knee. "Marry me!"

"I."

"Say you'll be mine.""

"I-"

"Say you'll be ..."

"I will."

"I love you Dolly."

"If you just shut up for a moment."

Joe paused ...

"I WILL," Dolly bellowed.

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