tagErotic PoetryOur nice Miss Price

Our nice Miss Price

byAndrogynousother©

This is the story of our Miss Price
Who lives in the village and is awfully nice,
Who rides on her bicycle so prim and so proper,
The townswomens guild, the gardener, the shopper.

You'd think from her look, sometimes quite wooden,
She could be Miss Gee from W H Auden.
But her bike is quite new and a quality make
And doesn't require that back pedal brake.

Still single, she lives in her small homely flat,
No car, no children, just a large ginger cat.
She works for the doctor in his surgery small
Curing villagers ills, and at their beck and call.

She isn't a nurse but after twenty odd years,
Can tell what you have and settle your fears,
And a chat on the phone and you'll often hear
The sick patients calmed and of better cheer.

She can spot diagnose in the blink of an eye
While the young GP's give the books a try,
And is rarely wrong on her medical fact,
And keeps village secrets with admirable tact.

Her only flaw if indeed it is so,
She will take from the cupboard when no one will know,
Not drugs or needles that would shame her profession,
But a six month supply of contraception.

The image she gives is of spinsterly grace,
and the look that she gives from her unmade-up face,
No one would believe it but sure it is true,
She has a weekly rendezvous
With one you'd not suspect at all;
Mr Griffiths from the old town hall.

Because under her clothes she has shape, she has curves
And Mr Griffiths he noticed and after some nerves,
He tried to talk, his tongue it did trip
And she smiled as he struggled with uncontrollable lip.

She thought he was sweet and a broad shouldered fellow
That was kind, was attractive and terribly mellow.
But she'd heard from the nurse as a matter of course,
That as well as being nice, he was hung like a horse.

He finally asked her if perhaps she would take
A walk in the woods, perhaps down to the lake.
And a stop at her Aunts for a nice cup of tea
And what happened then, well they'd have to see.

They went to the woods and happily talked,
The sun it came up, it was hot as they walked.
They got to the lake, and did both perspire
And felt if they didn't cool down, they'd catch fire!

After a few suggestions and sips from the water
A swim was suggested and with some bright laughter
A skinny dip, "Come on, after all who will know,"
He undid his belt and they both had a go.

Naked they jumped in the lake, clear and cool.
He looked at her tits, she looked at his tool
And soon it was obvious that neither objected
To the other one watching their parts that erected.

He had in his wallet a condom, such luck.
They gave in to their passion and had their first fuck.

It was wonderful for them both with no urging
Neither promiscuous, yet neither a virgin.
What happened was great and not much of a strain
They both really wanted to do it again.

So they thought about days and then both did say,
"I can do afternoon, every Wednesday".

Early closing on Wednesday is often ignored
In this busy old world where shoppers are flawed.
In the village if you want your bread, milk or cheese
You think in advance, for they'll ignore your pleas
To open the shop for some more olive oil
or a jar or jam or aluminium foil.

Wednesday PM is a special, the reason
For the village shuts down whatever the season.
The TV's go on and some nap for a while
But Miss P will ignore sport and Jeremy Kyle.

Miss Price isn't out with her short shopping list
She don't need her bike for her weekly tryst,
Not for her 'Countdown' or 'Deal or no deal',
She unlocks the gate, to the woods to steal,
To meet another afternoon escapee
But not for them any coffee or tea.

The woodland they use is deep and secluded
But not to her and Mr Griffiths, for they were included
In a small group of people that through it could jaunt
Because it was owned by her sweet maiden aunt.
Who told her to come and jump over the fence,
Although the 'come' wasn't quite what she meant.

In her Mum's old green Barbour, (She'd turn in her grave
If she knew her dear daughter was out on this rave).
Her hair tied up in a darkened silk scarf,
She cuts through the woodland away from the path,
To trudge through the bracken, past pine and past birch,
To the centre of woods that would defy any search,
To meet Mr Griffiths in his old hunting tweed,
To hide him from the world and their intended deed,
To meet up with Miss Price and without further ado,
To rip of their clothes and amiably screw.

Two people their age, it may not seem right
To meet in forest well away from sight,
To engage in a passion that none will believe,
So she has her protection so she doesn't conceive.

To look at Mr Griffiths you just wouldn't guess
That he can screw Miss Price into a terrible mess
He'll flick at her G-spot in no great rush
So she comes in abundance, her pussy to gush
Her come juice a pale yellow, warm oily flow,
Over pine cone or leaf, or soft winter snow.

They fuck every Wednesday whatever the weather
They fuck in the snow, in the grass or the heather.
From front and from back on the ground still soggy,
He pushes her down and does her in doggy.

With a penis so large it fills up her crack
When they fuck with abandon, flat on her back.

She loves to be fucked and she likes a good snog,
She loves it when Griff throws her over a log
And steps up behind her and smacks her firm arse
Before pushing her nose down into the grass
And fucking her hard and really takes charge
As she feels him inside her, so long and so large,
Until at last this Welsh pleasure provider
Swells up to the max and comes deep inside her.

They lay still together as his copious come
Warmly trickles and tickles and flows down her bum
To form in puddle for no one to find,
For they are not seen and leave nothing behind,
But for a small shape in the grass or the snow
Of bottom, or back or knee or elbow.

Miss Price she loves best down 'twixt the trees,
To be fucked to oblivion on her hands and knees.
To be mastered, and mated with lust in her eyes
In the woodlanded hills where the red kite flies.

That nice Miss Price, the pride of the village
Will drop to her knees and on his penis will pillage,
And gobble and suck on his cock, and to bob
And swallow whatever comes out of that knob.

And he's no slouch for although he's not young
He knows what to do with his lips and his tongue
And will suck on her clit and labia with soul,
Will tongue her to pleasure via her soft arse hole.

And once his tongue has had its fun back there
He will occasionally get his lube and will dare
To stretch and to play with that nerve packed tunnel
For she likes nothing more than a rare touch of anal.

She kneel there with patience and quietly wait
For his bulbous red glans to push through the gate
Of the tightest of shafts not designed for their pleasure,
He'll fuck to her bliss in her arse at his leisure.

And being so far from village road or track
He has given her smooth shapely arse a good smack,
And when in the mood and some spanking he fancies
He'll grab our Miss Price and pull down her panties,
bend her over his knee and flip up her skirt,
And give playful slaps because it's not about hurt.
It's all about trust, of role play and position
And Miss Price's desire for some plain old submission
To the strong arms of a man who will please her and please,
And give come after come after a bit of a tease.

Once they have consumed each other - seed sown,
They dry off, get wet, warm up or cool down,
And a kiss for the other as they slowly get dressed,
Two happy people, alone and de-stressed.
For another long week, of people or pain,
Just waiting 'til Wednesday and to do it again.

If they meet in the village on another bright day
They chat and they smile and the old ladies will say
"What a shame our Miss Price and that nice council man
Don't go out together," and they do often plan
To get them together and see if a date
Will draw together this pair and their fate.
Should they endeavour? Should they try or dare?
To see if some chemistry really is there?

Little do they know that for four years now,
They meet in Aunt's wood, a fresh furrow to plough.
They hardly talk of a future or past
Or whether their partnership will wither or last.
It's just about fucking they both freely admit
If only to themselves, for they don't submit
Their experiences of sex to anyone's ears,
Whether it causes some glee, or some taunts or some tears.

They both love to fuck after much celibacy
After all it hurts no one, not you, them or me.

Epilogue:
For Miss Price, it turned out that her old aunt that was ill
And after she died it was found in her will
She had left her the house near the lake and the woods,
Which was full of antiques and valuable goods.

The solicitor picked up the will, signed and dated
And emptied the room before she then stated
"My house I leave to my niece, dear Sue,
Who thought that I didn't have a clue
That once a week she trekked out at two
To meet young Paul Griffiths and to jolly well screw."

"Over the last few years it's been my delight
To see such passion in my woods, just in sight,
My own lovely Niece and my friend from the town
To rip off their clothes and happily go down
To the lake and enjoy, in whatever fashion
Their carnal delights, their fire, their passion".

"To my own old shame I repaired an old hide,
And just before two with my flask I'd inside,
And with my old binoculars I would just stare
At two darling kids and what they did there.
Forgive me Darlings, but it was the sweetest view
And I couldn't resist watching what I never knew.
For my mother and father taught me to behave,
And I take my virginity now to my grave".

"In light of my watching I now make amend
And do what I can for my niece and my friend.

If they both get together they can both have the key
At the birth of a child that is named after me.
Until they do, the house it will stay
Empty and silent for years or a day.
And they realise through their love in all weather
Means they both were meant to be two together".

And so that night with a tinge of a thrill
She decided that she'd stop taking her pill
And see what occurred and did nature intend
For her to fall pregnant when her lover did spend.

Nothing happened for months and she figured 'too late',
And gave up on the thought of life with a mate,
But smiled as she passed Mr Griffiths in town,
And didn't let thoughts of Aunt's house get her down.

They continued to meet in the woods that's for sure,
Their sex life was great and never a bore.
But now when she felt that familiar splash
Of his come in her cunt she hoped, in a flash
That sperm and egg would today do the deed
And she'd ne'r be alone thanks to a blast of his seed.

The day of her birthday (She was forty one),
As she leafed through her cards she felt a bit glum.
She knew that there must be more than that,
Someone else in the house, not just her cat.

To drive out that thought she stood up, too quick,
And felt for a moment like she might be sick
And quickly sat down so that she wasn't reeling
And waited for the end of the uncomfortable feeling.

The cat came across and sat by the latter
And purred a sweet purr to ask what was the matter.
She stroked his red head and welled up with tears
With the love of her cat; then her training of years
Screamed, "sickness, emotional, SHIT! This could mean
I could be pregnant, I must get seen
By my friend the doctor who can check and can test
If I'm expecting a baby and do all the rest
Of the stuff that needs doing and then maybe
In nine months' time, I'll hold my own baby".


A year has gone past and the now Mrs Griffiths
Surprised the whole town when she announced her wishes
That all should attend St Winifred's at noon
Mr G in a suit and her in her gown
To make their vows and be happily married,
Only the Doctor new of the child that she carried.
Except for her husband of course and it seemed
To the village, his joy and he happily beamed
To his new wife, Mrs Griffiths, he loved his lover,
His life now complete for she was to be mother
Of their baby, and while he had never once thought,
Of the joy of a wife and all that she brought,
Of the 'together' happiness that made him so glad,
He felt a thousand feet tall, because he would be a Dad.

Their baby, a boy, came along in the spring,
And no one counted the days since the ring
Was put on her finger on that great day in June,
And however good their French honeymoon,
It couldn't account since the June hurly burly,
Baby Fred was full term but some weeks early.

People might say but not to each other,
That Miss Price was already an expectant mother,
But she never said so she can't then have lied
About knowing six weeks before the knot it was tied.

Baby Fred, after Wini the Aunt he'd not met,
Lives with loving Mum and Dad their happiness set
In a house in the woods by the lake near the hills,
With never a worry about paying the bills,
Aunt Winifred was loaded, and what a gem
After three years of watching, had left it to them.

He left the council, she left script and med,
To be 'stay at home' parents to Darling young Fred.
Financially safe and with time to spare,
The walk the same woods with baby Fred in their care.
If he falls asleep, with the trees up above,
They take off their clothes and in silence make love.
Although now married and a big house for this,
They still can't resist a soft forest kiss.
Down by the lake they still fuck at their best,
They smile at the hide where Wini did rest,
And took so much pleasure from watching her heir,
And occasionally hope that her spirit is there,
In her hide in her woods where on Wednesday each week,
With flask and commode she'd casually peak
Through the new undergrowth she herself had sown
To observe the performers without being known.

Then they dress and caress, watched now only by bird,
Arm in arm the walk back and nothing is heard
Save the soft sweet gurgle or giggle from Fred,
They think making love is boring in bed!

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