1947 The Whirlwind Between Winters

Gramps and Henry went off to do their bit of business before lunch the next day. They returned just at the point when I thought the tea was going to spoil.

No explanation was given but Gramps put a pound note on the table. "What's that for? " I asked.

"Towards our keep, nothing more nothing less." said Harry, giving me one of those smiles.

At eight o'clock Arthur Askey was on the wireless. He's so funny. Gramps could do quite a good take off him but he was a lot ruder than Arthur.

At bedtime, I left my nightie off again. Even before I'd lowered the lamp the door opened and a naked Henry slipped into bed beside me.

"Why didn't you come last night? I really wanted you to come last night." I said quietly.

"I guessed that Gramps was probably your first fuck for a while. I thought that you may want a night's rest in between." he whispered.

I sighed, "Well you thought wrong."

Then he took me in his arms and kissed me. Long and slow.

Oh God, I'd missed being kissed. He held me close to him. Oh God, I'd missed that too. He kissed me again.

He licked my right nipple several times and then he came back up for another kiss. My fanny twitched.

He took my hand and put it on his cock. Gramp's had been a bit bigger than my Tom's but Hen's felt a big bigger still. This was very strange as Tom had always told me that all cocks were the same size.

It was the stiffness that I found incredibly. Like polished wood. I tried to bend it but it only gave slightly. That made Hen take a big breath so I tried bending it in the other direction but the result was the same. "Steady girl," said Henry, "don't break it."

I let go quickly. Not wanting to do any damage.

Hen laughed as his hand parted my thighs. He gently went to work.

I'm not complaining. He was good. He knew where everything was and he knew just how to bring me to that quivering shaking state but he didn't have Gramp's finesse.

What he lacked in subtlety he more than made up for in sheer beautiful youthful lusty energy.

He got between my legs and slowly penetrated me. Waiting for a few seconds, he pulled my knees up and gently sank the last of him into my fanny. I could feel his bollocks against my bum. Still he was in no hurry. Then gently at first he began his thrusting. With each dip the speed increased.

I put my hands behind his head, interlocked my fingers and hung on tight. Just when I thought that he couldn't last any longer or go any faster he slowed his pace. This was just the prelude to another crescendo and interlude. And then he'd start all over again.

Don't ask me how long it all lasted. I'd lost all sense of time and space.

Spent, we lay in each other's arms. Then sleep overtook us.

When the daylight awoke me I fully expected to find him gone but he was still in my bed. The oil lamp had burnt-out during the night.

When Henry and I entered the kitchen Gramps had the range door wide open and was holding the toasting fork with a doorstep of bread on the end of it before the flames. The kettle steamed gently on the top.

"Home Guard?" I asked.

"Home Guard." Gramps replied.

"Bless them!" I said, "they may have started a whole new world."

"Steady Missus, we don't want any of that Commy talk." he laughed.

..................................

After that, I tried to eat as much as I could in an attempt to regain my curves. They more or less took turns to visit my bed each night. Sometimes, no-one crept in. Occasionally, they both came on the same night, one after the other. Neither man acted as if they had more right to me than the other.

It was Gramp's night but they both rushed in. Hen got in the right side of the bed and Gramps scurried around and slipped in on my left.

"Eek!" I cried.

"There's nothing wrong in it Missus," said Gramps, "and don't say you haven't thought of it yourself."

They both disappeared under the sheets and latched onto a nipple each. Each of them had his own rhythm. Gramps parted my legs and then performed is thick thumb in the fanny routine. Once in, he made circular movements with it; very much as if he was stirring a cup of tea with his thumb. Along with the double working on my teats the feeling was delicious.

Head back and mouth wide open sucking in air I revelled in the attention. Then Gramps did something new and unexpected. He gently pushed one of his fingers into my bum.

Instinctively, I tried to raise my head and chest but the weight of two heads on my tits stopped this. The tip of his finger made contact with the tip of his thumb even though there was a thin part of me in-between. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before. Gramp's fingertips softly rubbed together.

I don't know if it was a routine that they'd used before and I didn't care because Hen slid his hand down my tummy, over my pubic hair and found my slit. His finger gently made his way in. He drew spiral patterns around and around the sensitive lump (I'm sure it has a name but I don't know what it is). All I did know was that a Summer Lightning Storm was taking place in my brain. I was certain that they would have to cart me off to the Lunatic Asylum in the morning. But right now they could shoot me and I'd die happy.

Just when my convulsions subsided, Gramps ordered me to turn over and they both flipped me. He got behind me and did his dog and bitch thing. Hen knelt in front of me, pulled my hair back and pushed his cock into my mouth. Was it right, was it wrong? I didn't give a tinker's curse. If I went to hell tomorrow, I was in heaven now. It was the strangest pleasure to have my lips around a thing so rigid with lust.

Hen stayed perfectly still; Gramps was doing all the work from the back. His movement forced my head back and forwards over Hen's stiff prick. I wondered if Hen spunked in my mouth could I go to Hell twice?

Gramps saved me. He gripped my waist as he pumped spunk into me. Hen laughed and moved off the bed. By the time he got behind me Gramp's cock was flopping out of me. Hen half pushed him out of the way and took his place. He slid into me so easily. As he banged his balls against me he put his weight on my shoulders and forced my face into the bed. I could hardly breathe. He could kill me if he wanted just as long as he kept fucking me.

I felt his cock throb inside me as he let his spunk go. They just went without a word and left me sweating where I was. Sometimes they could be tender and sometimes not. I loved both.

........................................

Over the toast and tea they acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened so I didn't mention it. They did a few jobs around the farm and then did a bit of business after lunch. Things went back to the usual routine, taking turns with the occasional night off. Sometimes they shared me.

Each day when they returned from their trips out they brought me a treat, a bar of chocolate, a pork pie or anything with a high fat content. I ate everything in good faith as it helped with my bigger bum campaign.

One Saturday, Henry said, "We're going out later to do a bit of evening business. We'll bring you back a bit if a surprise. Wait up for us."

He put a packet of nylon stockings on the table, "Make sure you're dressed up and looking your best when we get back." he added.

While they were gone, I went through my wardrobe. I couldn't remember the last time that I'd needed anything special to wear.

I found a silk dress that I'd worn once to a friend's wedding in 1939. It wasn't the latest fashion; although I had no idea what the latest fashion looked like. It did have a sort of classic elegance about it. I knew that I had some french knickers somewhere. I'd just have to manage with the other underwear that I had. When I tried it all on I thought that maybe it was a tiny bit big for me but what choice did I have. Fingers crossed that the drawers didn't fall down. My best court shoes were still fine.

I settled down in the kitchen to listen to the wireless and wait.

My mind ran through a hundred things that the surprise could be. Why did I need to dress up? I hoped it involved sex and maybe dancing.

Time passed slowly.

The light programme went off the air for the night so I just sat there in silence.

At long last, I heard the lorry pull into the yard. I stood up and smoothed down my dress.

When Hen and Gramps burst through the door they were followed by a smartly dressed military looking chap and a strong smell of drink.

Henry said, "May this is the Major. The Major is going to take you upstairs and fuck you."

"I say, steady on. Language, old man." said the Major.

I started to say, "I don't know about....."

"You don't need to know anything. Besides, he's paid already. Now up you both go."

Slightly shocked, I turned and made for the stairs. The Major followed me.

As we entered my bedroom the Major pointed to the iron bedstead and said. "Lean forward and hold onto that tightly."

I did as I was told.

He stood behind me and lifted my dress up as far as it would go. Then my drawers were pulled down to my ankles. The Major used his foot to move my shoes as far apart as my french knickers would allow. He entered me from behind, slipped his arms around my waist, clung on tight and started pounding into me. Six thrusts and then he stepped backwards. He pulled my drawers up and smoothed down my dress. Then he did up his trousers and off he went downstairs. I followed him.

"Quick work, Major," said Gramps.

"My money, my choice," the Major retorted, "maybe longer next time."

"Drive you back, Major?" offered Gramps, cheerily.

The major came back with, "Good man! Top show!"

No sooner had the door closed behind them than Hen swept me off my feet and layed me on the kitchen table. He threw up the hem of my dress and whipped my drawers off. Pulling my knees up, he plunged his face into my fanny. Didn't he know what the Major had just done?

He licked and sucked like a man possessed. It was as if he was trying to remove every trace of the Major from me. Or maybe he just liked the feel of my nylon stocking tops rubbing against his ears: I don't know.

He dragged me towards him, lifting my legs over his shoulders. He undid his Oxford Bags just enough so that he could drive his cock into me. Furious is the only way I could describe the way he shagged me.

And then it was over. He handed me my knickers so that I could wipe myself.

By the time Gramps returned, Henry and I were in my bed. Sound asleep in each other's arms.

After that, on most Saturdays they went out and returned with some well to do chap. He would use me for five minutes or thirty or an hour. Their money, their choice. Every Saturday ended with me on my back on the kitchen table. I did get two new dresses and some lovely underwear bought for me.

I don't know how much they charged the men but I had the feeling it was nothing to do with money. I'm sure they could make far more in an afternoon of business.

It felt to me like they were showing off. They were proving to their social superiors that they had something those posh blokes could never have: a willing woman, who they had total control over, who did anything they wanted out of love.

And now I realised that I did love Gramps and Henry. Equally but both differently.

........................

Gramps was getting his breath back by gripping my ass firmly. He flopped out of me and out of bed.

"Your ass is getting bigger, Missus," he said, "but so are your tits and belly."

He said no more. The door closed gently behind him.

The days were getting short now. Most of the trees had lost their leaves. Winter was returning. God only knew what it would bring.

The kitchen was warm the next morning but quiet. No bread was toasting, no kettle was singing. The teapot was cold.

On the table lay two pound notes as well as a ten shilling note. I couldn't recall the last time I'd seen fifty bob all in one place.

I didn't need to look in the yard for the lorry to know that they'd gone. I always knew they would.

Stroking my slightly swollen belly, I thought, "At least they left me something to think about."

.......................

For years afterwards if I saw a tatty blue lorry in the village, or occasionally in Dorchester, I strained to see the driver.

I never wanted my son to take over the farm. When he went off to university to study Philosophy I was so proud. He was a serious thinker.

Two years into the course he dropped out and went on the hippy trail to Thailand. I got the occasional postcard with a plea for money: which I always sent. I was just happy that he was happy.

Men aren't meant to stay in my life for too long. I'm content to look back and think of the brief time that they have been there. Yes, I liked to think.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Unlike my previous series of little tales, this story stands completely alone. It is wholly fictitious; although half overhead and partially forgotten conversations in a village pub may have provided a little of the inspiration for it.