|A Yank in the Outhouse
by David Shaw ©
He grinned, again looking for a second like a small boy: "Lady, in the army they always tell us that it's the unloaded gun which kills people. This one is loaded and cocked and the safety catch is off, so it can't possibly hurt you. Now just kindly come back where you where and then I'll put the gun down."
The wind seemed to be blowing even more strongly as I took a pace forward and put my weight on the brick pile again. Now I was looking directly into the Yank's face. Dark skin, hooded eyes, high forehead, that convict style haircut, a glimpse of white teeth in sardonically smiling lips, a strange smell of sweat and - perfume? From Mrs Harrington or Mrs Walsh, or was it true what I'd heard, that American men splashed scent on their face after they'd shaved?
It wasn't something I had time to think about. He did get rid of the pistol: he passed it to one of the women inside the wash house and immediately afterwards he put his hands underneath my armpits and lifted me off my feet as if I was a little girl. It was a tremendous surprise to be just hoisted and virtually dragged through the window - If it hadn't been for the fact that I was wearing my long cycling skirt my knees would have been badly grazed on the window sill.
"Hi, honey, my name's Reuben. I guess you know Harriet and Susan."
Well, I didn't, not by their Christian names, and I still didn't know which one was which, nor did I care too much right then, because I was still being held up in his crushingly powerful hands with my toes just barely touching the paving stones. Above everything else I was acutely aware of the fact that I was about as close as I could be to a completely naked man
"Ladies, I think it's time we turned the handle here".
I didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about though it was obvious from the smile on Mrs Harrington's face that she did. As for Mrs Walsh, she moved as quickly as she could to the mangle standing near to the copper.
You remember I promised to explain about the washing after it had been rinsed? Well, a mangle was a heavy cast iron upright frame and in the top of the frame were two wooden rollers, each one twice as thick as my arm, with the wet laundry squeezed item by item between the rollers as they were turned by a handle on a big wheel. I guessed that was the handle the Yank was talking about.
Yes, Mrs Walsh already had her hands on the crank handle. I saw that before the Yank spun me round so the mangle was behind me. Then I felt the back of my skirt being plucked up. Straining my neck around, I saw that Mrs Harrington had lifted up the hem and was feeding it between the rollers as her friend cranked the handle around. The American laughed, let go of me and as more and more of the skirt was drawn up between the rollers and I was pulled backwards, uselessly trying to hold down the hemline as it rose up my legs. I suppose I must have protested, but nobody took any notice of whatever I said, not until I was pinned back against the mangle with most of my skirt hanging out the other side of it. What was left to me was rucked up around my waist, so high up that I knew the bottoms of my old fashioned bicycling briefs with the elasticated leg pieces must be showing. The sneer on Mrs Harrington's still flushed face was proof enough of that, let alone the grin on the Yank's face.
"Honey, you sure do have one nice pair of legs, especially for a Sunday School teacher."
"Let me go, please."
He picked up one of the towels off the table and tied it around his waist, sat down on the top of the table and reached out his hand to Mrs Harrington. She gave him the gun and he put it down next to himself.
"And you sure haven't been short changed in the upperworks either, Sarah. A nice little double handful there for any guy to play with."
I felt my face burning and my tongue completely tied. I'd never even heard of any man daring to talk like this to a respectable girl. Mrs Harrington just laughed, picked up the tray and walked off towards another table with clothing thrown on top of it.
"Susan, why don't you put some more wood on the fire? This is the only place I can get warm in a goddam country that's never heard of central heating. Don't worry about our unexpected guest, she's going noplace soon."
A couple of his fingers tapped lightly against the pistol and Mrs Walsh - Susan? - walked towards the fire. As she walked past the Yank he caught her right breast in his outstretched hand and pulled her round to his lap. Mrs Walsh grunted, pulled the sheet around her above her hips and pressed herself against him in shameless response, grabbing his hand and holding it between her legs as she kept on making noises like a pig rooting through kitchen scraps. The Yank was watching my face as he put his fingers into Mrs Walsh, apparently far more interested in my response than in that of the woman he was playing with.
"See, I told you she wasn't going anyplace soon. She's too interested in watching what I'm doing to you girls to want to leave."
"I'm not interested in what you're doing" I said as confidently as I could. "I do want to leave, so you'd better let me go. And you can't get away with threatening people with guns in this country. This isn't California."
"Honey, I would never have guessed that," he said sarcastically.
Mrs Harrington came back with her sheet neatly wrapped around her again and carrying the tray. On it were three glasses and a very expensive looking gold cigarette case. She took two cigarettes out of it, put them in her mouth and lit both with a lighter built into the case. I'd never seen such a fancy thing before. She passed one of the smokes to the Yank who released Mrs Walsh as casually as he'd grabbed her to take the cigarette from Mrs Harrington's hand. Susan seemed unhappy about being discarded and knelt down to begin shoving sticks into the fire with unnecessary force. The man and the woman still at the table drank and smoked and stared at me, Reuben with lazy interest, Mrs Harrison with sharp eyed annoyance.
"What are you doing here, Sarah?" she asked.
"I don't have to answer your questions!" I answered with defiance.
She smiled coldly: "How would you like us to feed you through that mangle the other way around - tits first?"
"I was just delivering a bottle of wine for the Vicar." I answered quickly, my stomach feeling as if the wind had just been knocked out of it. Mrs Harrington snorted in disbelief, her eyes sharp and bright.
"It's true - the bottle is in the saddlebag of my bike outside. But when I got here I heard some noise from inside here and I just wondered, well, what was going on. . ."
"So you decided to spy on us and now you're going to go back to the village with a lot of gossip which everybody in the county will hear about in a day or two - or at least you think that's what you're going to do."
"I won't tell anybody anything." I told her, trying to damp down her rising anger.
"No you won't, not if you know what's good for you. Reuben is a Major in the American military police and very rich as well, so you'd better not say anything or you'll be in real trouble."
"Gals, gals, quieten down will you, I'm getting a head ache," the Yank rumbled. "This is no problem. There's twenty pounds in the jeep that I'll give to Sarah here in return for keeping quiet about our little get together.'
Twenty pounds - it was a fortune, as much as a skilled man could earn in a month. "And seeing as how she's here and paid for, I guess she may as well join in the fun as well. It sure would be a waste of a good Sunday school teacher otherwise, for Jacob can see there is corn in Egypt."
I was almost as startled by the quotation from the old testament as I was by his implied threat of what he was going to make me do.
"Now you needn't look so surprised, honey. We've got bibles back home as well and my folks were kinda strict about bringing me up on it. Anyway, I guess we need to make a sinner out of you so there'll be no temptation for you to go throwing any stones. Now if only I'd have known that I was going to have to teach a pretty young lady like you as many sins as I can in one afternoon, why I guess I'd have preserved my strength a little instead of sinning straight off with Harriet." He spread his arms out to encompass all three of us, then reached down and stroked his groin underneath the towel, still looking around and leering. "The harvest truely is plenteous, but the laborers are few."
Next his eyes turned directly towards me: "Never mind, Sarah, ye shall eat of the fat of the land."
It took me a moment or two to understand what he meant and why the women were laughing at me. Imaging myself sprawled over the top of a man's naked body with my mouth full of him was as inconceivable as doing it with two other women watching me. Yet there was a kind of poetic justice about it that I knew would appeal to Susan and Harriet. I felt like I did when I fell of my bike - only really having time to wonder how hard the ground was going to hit me when I finally stopped falling.
"How long do you think she was watching us?" Harriet asked.
"Long enough to know exactly what's going to happen to her now," Susan snapped.
The other two each seemed to find the idea amusing. Reuben put his arms around the women, each of his hands cupping one of their breasts.
"Well, Sarah, you sure do seem a mite overdressed for the occasion. Maybe we can do something about that," he drawled. His cigarette was hanging from the corner of his mouth, an eyelid screwed up against the smoke. I'd never seen a man so self assured. He dropped his hands and slapped both of the women on their bottoms. "Fix her up, gals. I've got to make a call on the radio - find out how things are going back at HQ."
He got off the table, tied the towel around his waist, slipped his feet into a pair of unlaced shoes. "Have her ready for me when I come back." He went outside, apparently unconcerned by the cold wind blowing outside. The gun was still in his hand, as though he was determined never to be parted from it.
As Susan and Harriet moved towards me I reached round to the handle to try to release myself but my skirt was bunched up in the rollers too tightly for me to be able to turn it from that difficult angle. And anyway, it was two against one, two who would have grabbed my arm before I could have turned the wheel even once. There was no way out.
Harriet Harrington stood and watched me, her arms crossed, the same cold smile on her face; her companion touched her elbow and whispered in her ear. Whatever she said seemed to suit Harriet.
"Well, Miss School Teacher, you might have thought that you've had an interesting afternoon so far, but it's soon going to get a damn sight more interesting. Now for starters, it must be getting awfully hot in here underneath that sweater you've got on."
Of course it was. In a situation like this I would have been hot and bothered enough anyway, let alone in a hot steamy room with a sweater on. My skin was pricking underneath it and drops of sweat were rolling down my face.
"So why don't you let us take it off you?"
I shook my head.
"Suit yourself," Harriet said briskly. "It's just as easy for me to get Reuben to do it. He'd enjoy that, but you won't. Especially when he gives you a spanking for being a stubborn little bitch. He's got a swagger stick that he's used on me once and I've never dared to argue with him since. But you're going to be stripped off in here, that's for certain. Your only choice is whether you want to be given a civilised shagging afterwards, or just plain raped. Whatever happens, Susan and I will be holding you down for Reuben if we have to, understand that. We need to make sure you won't talk and having you thoroughly fucked is our only guarantee of that. So is it going to be done easy or hard? And if it's to be made easy for you you'd better put your arms up without any further delay."
I didn't know what to do. Until Mrs Walsh showed me the long hat pin in her hand, then pressed the point of it through the wool of my sweater, through the fabric of my bra and into my left breast. It made me cry out with pain.
"Better make your mind up, Sarah - quickly." She wasn't pretending
Once more in the same day I held my arms up over my head in surrender. Harriet and Susan put their hands underneath the sweater my mother had knitted for me and raised it up and up, over my bra cups and over my shoulders, over my face, my hair, along my arms, and then it was hanging from her hands and I was wearing nothing but my bra above the waist. Susan nudged the left cup with her palm, her face close to mine.
"We'll have that off you, and then you can do a performance for us to watch."
I could see the smudged mascara on her eyebrows, smell the tobacco on her breath. It was a different sort of tobacco smell to anything I'd ever smelt before, sweeter. My heart was was bouncing around in my chest like a canary frantic to get out of its cage. Susan asked me questions.
"I bet you've never done it before have you? Or did that Charlie Moore manage to get his wicked way with you before he finally got called up for the Army?"
I was surprised she knew about Charlie and me. Everybody else in the village probably knew we'd begun courting but I didn't think anybody in Mill Cottage would have cared.
"No, we didn't do anything," I protested.
Harriet touched me as well, stroking my cheek with the back of her fingers: "In that case I'll bet twenty to one that Charlie boy is going to get a lovely surprise on his next leave. By then you'll be grabbing hold of any cock you can get and bouncing up and down on it like a good 'un. You're as sexy a girl as I've ever seen, Sarah, and your days as a Sunday School teacher are definitely over."
"No - no," I protested, in vain. Susan unhooked the back of my bra and both of them took it off me. Both pairs of hands had long unchipped fingernails and soft skin which had never done any work. Harriet stood back and eyed me.
"Well, Sarah, you're quite a well developed young lady. If nobody has been getting his fingers around those it's been a sad waste."
I tried to cover myself up with my hands, and that just made them laugh at me even more. Harriet said: "OK, let's take off her English Channels now."
"Your briefs," Susan explained. "Your last line of defence."
It only took a second or two, both of them kneeling down on either side of me and plucking the briefs down. "Be careful, please. Don't break the elastic." Maybe it was a silly thing to say under the circumstances, but maybe it wasn't. Elastic was another clothing item which was hard to come by in wartime shops.
Anyway, they were reasonably careful, not wrenching them off me and helping me to step out of them. Harriet stood up, threw them casually across the back of a chair and looked carefully at me again. Susan had picked up a cigarette from somewhere and swallowed a stream of smoke before passing it over to Harriet.
"Another turn of the handle?"
"Oh yes, I think so. Just to set the scene off nicely."
Susan caught hold of the mangle's handle and turned it again, pulling me yet closer to the rollers and the bottom of the skirt up higher until it was right up around the top of my legs and I was literally within a hair's breath of indecent exposure. One futile attempt trying to pull back some of the trapped cloth was enough to prove I was wasting my time. Susan giggled and patted the handle.
"One more turn, Sarah, one more turn of this and you'll be putting on a turn of your own. A strip show turn with everything on show."
"What are you doing this for?" I asked. "Why are you doing everything that man wants you too?"
Harriet nodded her head, as if appreciating the question.
"It's suddenly become a whole new world, Sarah. A whole new country anyway. You know how it's always been in England, the aristocracy and the landowners have always had the real power - and if you weren't born and bred in their own little circles you were always a second rater, no matter how hard you worked or how good you were. But now we're suddenly getting thousands of these Yanks flooding in and you just can't believe how rich they are. Rich as a nation, rich as individuals, many of them. Not broad acres and rent book rich but cash rich. They've got bundles of money burning holes in their pockets because they know they're going to be in the fighting and maybe getting killed. All they want are good times and to hell with what it costs. So if you've ever wanted to make your pile while you're young, this is your chance. We'd be delighted to have you join us."
"Sure, believe me, there's plenty for all and thanks to Reuben we're just starting to get organised in a big way. He wants to bring some of his friends along here for a party - I think you'd be just right to come as the second storey maid. I can even get you a special costume to wear."
She was laughing at me with her eyes but she was serious too. "Listen, Sarah, if you come to one of Reuben's parties dressed in the right way and carrying a collection plate you could end up buying your own house in that mouldy old village. You've got a lovely smile - it could be a smile that sets you up for smiling for the rest of your life."
That struck a chord. My family, like many others, lived in a tied cottage - a cottage that belonged to the farm my dad worked for. If he lost his job he lost his home as well, a situation that always gave the farmers the whiphand when dealing with troublesome workers. Nobody could ever call my father a troublesome worker but it had always a sore point with me. Basically, tithed workers were no better off than Negro cotton pickers living in plantation cabins in the days of slavery. The prospect of being able to buy a way out of that trap was enough to get my undivided attention. Or at least it would have been at almost any other time - only Reuben walked back in just then.
As a natural reaction I covered my nipples up with my hands, something he hardly seemed to notice. A white belt was slung over one of his massive shoulders and around his chest like a bandolier, a holster hanging off it and the butt of the pistol sticking out of the top of the holster. It was just like the cinema again, like one of the Mexican bandits you saw in the cowboy films. I felt like Dorothy in reverse - I'd somehow clicked my heels and we must be in Kansas. I wondered if there were Mexican bandits in Kansas.
"Goddamn those stupid bastards I have working for me!" Reuben's smile had faded into a look of anger which frightened me. He seemed to realise that and to reassure me.
"Sorry, Sarah, I didn't mean to bother you. I've been checking on things in London and I guess I've got a problem."
"What's wrong?" Susan asked him with concern in her voice.
"Two of my sergeants were doing street familiarisation with a London bobby. They'd parked up near Claridge's while the limey cop went for one of his usual limey tea breaks. So my two guys were sitting in their jeep and there's a maroon Rolls-Royce parked outside the hotel across the road with an ATS officer inside it. Very young, not bad looking apparently. So she gets out of the Rolls and walks over to the jeep and asks my two half wits how they like England. OK, one half wit then, because one of the guys is very polite and says he likes it a lot. But sergeant Hermann Zeitler, he tells this female limey officer they should cut the cables on the barrage balloons and let the whole goddamned island sink into the sea. So she gives him a real long hard look and goes back to the Rolls. Just then the cop comes back and asks them if they knew who they'd been talking to."
"Some Duchess?" Susan guessed.
"Some Duchess! That fuckwit Zeitler, he's only gone and told off Princess Elizabeth of England! If she complains the shit is really going to hit the fan. It wouldn't be such a big deal if Eisenhower was still around but now he's in North Africa and the senior American officer left in London is General John H. Lee. That strutting turkey will just love it if the US Ambassador to the Court of Saint James turns up in his office complaining that Major Reuben Steele's military police have been insulting the British royal family."
"It's OK," Harriet said. "I bet the Princess won't say anything about it. She'll be like the rest of us, too glad to see you people here to help us to worry about a small thing like that. My advice would be to write to her, apologise, and say that your man only answered the way he did because he was feeling homesick. And maybe send her a gift of some kind as well."
"What the hell sort of present do you give a Princess?"
"Nothing to her, perhaps, but if she's in the army you could donate something to her unit. A film projector and some of the latest Hollywood films - musicals would be good. Anything at all except war films - we're all fed up with the war over here."
"Good thinking, Harriet. I'll do just that. As for Sergeant Zeitler, I've got an ideal transfer arranged for him. If he doesn't like this island we'll send him to one where he'll have real trouble finding any princesses to mouth off at."
"Where's that then, Reuben?"
"A nice little tropical resort in the South Pacific called Guadalcanal. I've a feeling that Zeitler won't be there too long before he's wishing like hell he was back pulling duty outside Claridge's."
"Never mind, we'll take your mind off your worries," Susan said brightly. "Won't we, Sarah?"
"What do you mean?" I asked her and she smiled.
"I think we can lift that skirt just a teensy weensy touch more, can't we, Susan?"
Susan put her hands on the handle: "Hey, hey and a up she rises, early in the morning".
Harriet's hand dropped to the front of Reuben's towel and stroked his pizzle. "I think we might have something here that's about to rise as well."
The Yank grinned and plucked the towel from his waist. His cock twitched as Harriet touched it, like the head of a sleeping python being roused. The length of flesh seemed almost independent of Reuben somehow - he and Harriet were both looking down at it as if neither of them were quite sure of what it was going to do next. Then he carefully folded the towel in a long strip and gave me a smile which seemed to be as slow growing as what was stirring at his groin.
"Sarah, I guess you've heard about Sir Walter Raleigh spreading his cloak in front of Queen Elizabeth. Now you're going to have a man spread a towel for you. No need to get frightened, I'm not going to hurt you any."
I was so nervous I didn't know whether to scream or not as he laid the towel on the brick floor in front of my feet. I was puzzled as well, not knowing what he meant to do, even more so when he knelt down on the towel, his face only a few inches from the hem of my skirt. He swirled one of his fingers around as a signal to Sarah and she turned the handle as far as she could. I was pinned right gack against the mangle, up on the tips of my toes, with my own small patch of brown hair openly exposed and Reuben's breath stirring them. I saw his tongue dart forward and press against the junction at the top of my legs. The wriggling length of hot skin went further underneath me as he tilted his head back, his eyes staring at my face in humour as he lapped against most private places like a cow feeding off a salt lick. Both of the other women were watching me as though I was was some kind of a laboratory experiment, some kind of Frankenstein about to come to life.
Not that that was far from the truth, and it was Reuben who was whipping up the storm where the electricity was coming from.
I found myself wailing out his name as my clit began to swell like a spring bud. There was no way I could stop myself twitching and gasping in response, my bare bum rubbing up against the wooden rollers of the mangle. Looking down at the Yank's smiling eyes I knew I was seeing the man who was going to be my first lover, the one who was going to change me from a girl into a woman. My hands came down and rubbed his bristly scalp in encouragement as I literally melted on top of Reuben's face, my cunt as damp as the tongue rubbing against it. Henrietta and Susan grabbed at my exposed nipples, tweaking and plucking both of them with crazy smiles on their faces, like the Marx brothers trying to tune a harp.
My head went back and I stared up wide eyed into the roof rafters, letting out a shriek which echoed amongst them. Although it must have been my imagination I thought I saw the clouds of steam underneath the tiles quivering at the sound waves.
Harriet's face was close to mine, watching with amusement and interest: "How do you feel now, Miss Sunday School Teacher?"
I groaned. "Like a Guy Fawkes dummy on top of a burning bonfire!"
"Then it must be about time for the firworks to start."
She began nibbling on one of my ears and then Susan did the same from the other side, just as Reuben's huge hands clasped my bottom. One of his fingers jabbed straight up between both of my buttocks and I wailed out again. Reuben leaned back, his hands still holding me in a crushing embrace.
"Noisy little bitch, isn't she? I wonder if she'll be able to keep it up when I introduce her to the rest of the guys."
"You think she'll be able to stand the strain?" Susan answered in a jokey kind of voice,
He stood up and casually waggled the huge up roll of swollen skin curving up in front of his loins. "I guess we'll have to give her a stretch test to find out. Roll a sheath on for me, ladies."
They couldn't get down on their knees fast enough, as if they were worshipping his maleness, working hand over hand to stretch the sheath over the length of a cock that seemed more the right size for a bull than a man. I'd never been near so frightened of anything in my life - being shagged for the first time was bad enough, being shagged for the first time in front of an audience was worse, but being shagged by a tool like that! I was going to die in agony impaled on an organ which was never meant to be used on a human woman . . .
The only slight consolation was that Harriet had already been used by it and survived - on the other hand, our respectable Mrs Harrington had probably had more men inside her already than the changing rooms at Wembley Stadium. Reuben had been following a well beaten path, not cutting a new one. It was no use, I was as dead as Lord Kitchener, and for the same reason - torpedoed to death.
No sooner was the sheath on than Susan was checking the fit with her mouth, squatting on her haunches and snorting through her nose as she sucked on his cock, one hand cupping his balls. Her other hand was up between Harriet's thighs as that 'lady' licked the matted hair on Reuben's chest.
"Yeah, maybe you ladies would be interested in hearing that a bunch of my guys will be here soon for a break. I think what we'll do is to dump little Sarah here in the copper to steam for a while in a hot bath. When my guys arrive they can strip off at the door, collect a bar of soap each and gather around the copper to give her a real thorough washing. I guess we might get some fun out of watching that."
Harriet giggled and looked at me as if it was a great joke I should be sharing in while Susan sounded as if she was choking. She had to stop sucking on Reuben's cock before she could recover her breath.
"OK, ladies, one leg each, high and wide, and let's see if the Sunday School teacher knows any good prayers.
The two ladies of Mill Cottage seemed quite calm as they prepared for my ravishment by lifting up my legs as I cried out and held onto the frame of the mangle underneath me. "Put her knee over your offside shoulder," Harriet said. "She's not very heavy but we might be here for a while and it's easier to support her weight like this"
It was crazy, it was impossible, I was hanging in mid air with my legs splayed out against two naked womens' chests, my calves pressing against their sweating breasts as a nude man moved closer holding onto a bulging erection he was preparing to ram into me. Then I felt the tip of it stroking my cunt lips and went into a spasm of trembling. And then I screamed more loudly than I ever had in my life as I was joined to Reuben. Well, perched on Reuben's cock really, but certainly with his helmet inside me an inch or so and it felt more like God's work than anything I'd ever learned about in church.
He leaned forward, put his mouth against mine and pushed his tongue through my lips. I gladly met him halfway, my tongue as active as his. He came closer and my own weight slid me further down his cock, setting me whinnying into his mouth like a hard ridden mare with a foam spattered bridle. I had to jerk my mouth back, suck in air and let it out in bubbling moans of despair, knowing that if there was no end to this invasion of my body soon I would be past help.
Harriet's sardonic voice was in my ear: "Any last words from the scriptures, Sarah?"
"Oh God! Oh God! He maketh my deep to boil like a pot!"
Reuben's hands were holding my waist, he was preparing to pull me down completely and utterly onto him, I was doomed . . .
Reuben barked with laughter: "I was a stranger, and yet ye took me in."
There was an explosion inside me, setting off yelps of forlorn despair which shot up high like skyrockets to burst amongst the steam and the rafters and the tiles. A pair of yellow eyes were glittering down angrily, a small barn owl hunched up in its feathers, weary of trying to sleep above this human hullaboo. I found myself laughing uncontrollably that such a wise bird had picked this place above all to seek a peaceful day - we'd both been so wrong about that.
|Another top quality story by David Shaw.|
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