tagMatureBanished to Purgatory?

Banished to Purgatory?


"What the fuck is going on here??!!" screeched my wife, Bethany.

Although my head whipped around to see her and my father-in-law, Benjamin, standing in the doorway, and even though I had time to glimpse their open mouthed astonishment, I had just started spurting the contents of my tightened balls into the hot welcoming pussy of the household cook. Jenny was kneeling on the bottom of her apron, her voluminous arse hoisted high while I was crouching behind her with my hands gripping her lollopy tits and using them to pull myself as deeply as I could into her clenching depths.

Sprung, big time!

Jenny pulled away from me and my cock was suddenly free but still spurting, coating the backs of her raddled thighs as she scurried away to stand and cover herself. Since I had only thrown her dress up over her back and pulled the top of her dress down to get at her big blowsy tits, it took no time at all. If she knew I was at home, she never wore panties or bra knowing I was always randy around her and she was always ready for a quick shag. The final drops fell on the flagstones as I slowly stood, pulling my pants and underwear up from my ankles.

I turned to face the door. Benjamin, tight lipped, growled, "My study, now, young man!" He put his arm around his sobbing daughter, turned and left.

Jenny was leaning against the bench wringing her hands. I did my best to reassure her. "I'll tell them that I forced you and this was the first time." I pointed my finger at her. "Stick to that story. The master forced you, OK?" She nodded, and gave a little sob. She understood that I knew how important the job was to her at her age. I grabbed some hand towel and pulling my cock out gave it a bit of a wipe to prevent more damage to my underwear.

Entering the study, I was welcomed by a freezing atmosphere. Bethany sat on a lounge holding a wet handkerchief to her mouth and tears were still rolling down her very pretty face. She looked up at me as I entered and just glared. Benjamin was sitting behind his huge mahogany desk also glaring at me.

"Right, Derek, what have you to say for yourself? That was a most disgusting scene Bethany and I witnessed. You were rutting like a wild animal!! Well, lad, well??"

I stood before him like a chastened schoolboy. "I have no reasonable explanation, sir. I went to the kitchen and there was cook on her knees cleaning a spill. Common sense deserted me and I made free use of her there and then." Seeing his jaw drop, I hastily added; "She in no way encouraged me and I had to use brute strength to subdue her. I threatened her with dismissal and she reluctantly complied."

Renewed sobbing from the couch suddenly erupted in anger. "Why her? Why did you want to put your thing into her when you have me? Answer me damn you!!"

I turned and looked at my wife of eight months. She was tall, slim, beautiful even in her misery and anger. She was a successful model and had the best of schooling including and exclusive Swiss finishing college. To most men she was a walking wet dream. But, not to me - to me she was sexless. Bethany's once a week conjugal visit, lights out, no foreplay, no sucking, licking or seconds, her very low libido was the complete opposite to mine. I had to imagine Jenny with her big broad tits, her eager puss, big haunches and round belly to even get off with my wife. I had to lay there in the dark and listen to her scramble to the en suite to thoroughly douche herself to rid herself of unwanted semen. Pregnancy was the most undesirable state she could imagine. Being of reasonable good looks, tall and distinguished, I had been just an ornament to her at the many social events I was forced to attend. I had become miserable.

"I made a promise to your poor benighted father that I would look after you. I allowed you to marry my only daughter, and this is how you repay me, you low swine?" Benjamin's voice had risen and his anger was palpable. My father had been one of the victims of the Lloyds crash and had taken his own life rather than face the enormous bankruptcy that resulted. His schoolboy chum had taken me into his extremely successful business and introduced me to his darling daughter. I had advanced in business and gone backward in love.

"I want nothing more to do with him, Daddy," whimpered my wife. "Get rid of him." So saying, she rose and stumbled from the room.

Benjamin looked after his daughter as she left and subsided into his oak and leather chair as if deflated. Finally, he looked up at me still standing before his broad uncluttered desk. "I'll organize a swift divorce – irreconcilable differences. I just wish I could boot you out the door because that's all that you deserve you ungrateful pup. However, because of my promise to your father, I will send you to one of my smaller businesses and you can languish there for eternity for all I care."

Which is why, two days later, I ended up at a small fishing village on the west coast miles from anywhere. It seems Benjamin had a canning factory there that didn't look as if it were doing that well from the minimal amount of research I had been able to do before I was shown the office door. I had felt guilty that I had let him, and my father down and instead of pissing off to warmer climes, accepted my punishment and my banishment in the hope of redeeming myself. I certainly did not have the wherewithal to up bags and leave.

My grandiose title for this minor enterprise of the huge Goodhew conglomerate was Assistant Manager. On a cold, drizzly afternoon, I alighted from the lumbering old bus and looking around, spotted a whitewashed low slung pub. There did not appear to be any such thing as a hotel or motel. The gentle slope down to the docks was lined either side with similar whitewashed low slung buildings and through the murk I could just make out a sharp inlet with boats bobbing at buoys. A two story building with a sign proclaiming it to be the Goodhew Canning Factory was at the end of the cobbled street.

I hefted my two suitcases and trudged through the sleet to the welcoming lights of the pub. I pushed the door open and was met by the fug of cigarette smoke, damp and the smell of beer. The low hubbub of conversation stopped as all faces turned toward me. Putting my suitcases down, I shrugged my coat off and put it on the hat rack next to the door. I guess my attire of smart suit, button down royal blue shirt and Oxford tie urged the occupants into whispered speculation. Bending a little due to the low height of the ceiling, I made my way to the small bar and the dwarfish wizened old man with a pipe hanging out of his mouth who presided.

"And what can I do for you, young man. Are you lost? Motor broken down??"

"No, nothing like that. Firstly, I'd like a pint of your ale, if you please. Secondly, do you have accommodation or is there something nearby?" Silence greeted that followed shortly by some amused guffaws.

"Er no, young man, nothing like that for forty miles. Why do you need accommodation? This is a working village, not a tourist trap. There's just us old farts who've been here all our life just getting by." The old man drew me a pint and placed it before me.

I could feel eyes boring into my back as I took a swallow of the bitter brew. I could feel the dozen or so occupants leaning towards me as I placed the glass on the bar. "Benjamin Goodhew sent me to be the Assistant Manager at the factory." Gasps all round. I turned and looked around. "Is there some problem??"

They all looked at each other and then one of the old guys at the back spoke. "Benjamin bloody Goodhew has never ever been here. Just takes the profits and doesn't re-invest. A few more years and there'll be no factory, and for that matter, bugger all village!" There was general consensus by nodding and shouts of "hear, hear". With shrugs of shoulders, they all turned back to each other and began low conversations sprinkled with words like "whippersnapper", "fucking Goodhew", "bloody end of us for sure", and so on. I guess they were less than impressed with the importance of my arrival. Given their animosity, there was no chance I was going to let on that I was Benjamin's soon to be ex-son-in-law.

I turned back to the bar. "So – there's no accommodation to be had at all?"

"None," he paused, "that is unless somebody wants ta board ya. Maybe one of the widows. Maudie Biggs, how about you? I'm sure the young gentleman can pay well, ain't that right, mister, er, mister .....?"

"Derek, Derek Leigh-Mallory." That attracted some guffaws. While such a name was common where I came from, I guess there were few hyphens in this neck of the woods.

I had assumed that all the occupants were mail but in the corner of the room, a big bulky figure with white hair stood and made its way toward the bar. Ruddy faced, with a figure indistinguishable beneath bulky clothing but handsome in a way, she stood in front of me and barely came to my shoulder. "I'm Maude Biggs, and I do have a room that I can let you have." Enormously grateful, I grinned and I guess the pearly whites against my Gstaad ski slopes tan did the trick. She grinned too and her amazing blue eyes sparkled in the low light.

"I'd be most grateful, ma'am," I said.

"Finish your beer and we'll be off. You must be starving after that long trip." So saying she led me out of the now silent pub and down the street to one of the low slung houses about five up from the factory. Ducking my head, I entered the cottage and Maude turned on the light. A cosy sitting room with a fireplace set with a large electric faux coal appliance glowed and the room was warm. At the rear of the room was a kitchen area and two doors led off the main room. She showed me through the rear door and into a quite spacious room with a single bed and a wardrobe. Everything was neat and clean.

"Thank you, this is great. Um, where to I shave and shower?" I said, looking around.

Maude let out a huge bellow of a laugh. "Bless you young man. We have no luxuries like that. We wash at the sink in the kitchen and you can shave using the mirror on the window sill. We have electricity only because of the factory. It wasn't that long ago that we had oil lamps and coal fires. I'll fix you something to eat and then to bed with you. You'll want to start early in the morning."

So, after a really tasty stew, it was off to bed and immediate unconsciousness in the soft bed.

Next morning, I awoke to the smell of bacon and donned a t-shirt over my sleeping shorts and opened the door. I was taken aback by the sight that greeted me. Maude had her broad back to me, a slip down around her waist. She had one arm raised and was using a washcloth on her underarm. From side on I could see a very large zeppelin-like breast. She shifted to the other arm and then one by one, gathered up those immense, lily white breasts and washed under them. I had erected massively at the first sight and started to throb as she made each breast in turn point outward to wash under them. I gasped and she turned toward me dropping her hands as she did so. My eyes were riveted to the huge breasts with their burgeoning red nipples. My shorts were tented and uncomfortable. I licked my lips and looked up into her twinkling blue eyes.

"Now don't tell me a well set up young man like you has never seen a pair of tits before. You probably have but not on an old tart like me, eh?" She eyed the tent in my shorts. "Got you going though. It's probably just a piss hard on. The lavatory is just outside the back door."

A bit shame faced, I went through the door, completed my ablutions, urged my erection to subside and returned in time to see Maude place a huge plate of eggs and bacon on the kitchen table. She had dressed in some sort of shapeless smock with "Goodhew Canning Factory" on a label above her left breast. I was positive she wore no bra because given what I'd seen, if she had, they would have stood out a mile. Saying that she had to get to work, she grinned at me and left me to my breakfast. I washed, dressed and wandered down the street to the factory.

I entered a side door and saw a long shed with three long benches. About thirty women stood processing fish on one, lobster on another and prawns on the third. All conversation stopped as the women looked me over in my suit and tie and all I could hear was the whirr of the roller belts. Maude detached herself from the middle bench and came to me. She pointed up the stairs and gave me an encouraging smile. As I went up the stairs, conversation resumed.

I entered a two room office area. The outer area contained a middle aged grim faced woman poring over a pile of papers. The door to the inner office opened and shortish man of indeterminate years shuffled out. He was wearing an old cardigan with food stains and judging by his pasty face and tired demeanour, I guessed he was dying of some cancer or other. I later found out that I was right.

"Leigh-Mallory is it? Jim Fletcher. I've had a letter from Mr. Goodhew. Come with me and I'll show you around. Lord knows I could do with the help." And one of the kindest, most remarkable men I've ever met took me under his wing and was exceedingly grateful that I absorbed everything he told me and gave him the respect he was due. He explained the good bits, the bad bits and the bits in between. What was clear was that although the factory did maintain a small profit, it had been declining for some years. It seemed all of the produce was labeled for a large supermarket conglomerate and they had locked the factory into a long term price that was now unreasonable while they made the big bickies. Obviously some head office nonce had negotiated a stupid contract. I just hoped it hadn't been me.

At three, all noise below had ceased. The woman in the outer office had donned a coat and stolen away while Jim and I talked. At five, we locked up and headed up the hill to the pub. His gait was slow. Outside the door, we shook hands, he wished me well and then went home and died in the night. I had a couple of pints at bar and then made my way to Maude's cottage. She greeted me with a grilled fish dish, a smile, and questions about my day. She read a book while I pored over paperwork I had brought with me. Before she went to bed she advised me that a more casual look would earn me more respect both at the factory and the pub.

Next morning, I again awoke to the smell of bacon. The dirty little boy in me leapt out of bed in the hopes of seeing those breasts but was soon disappointed. She was sitting at the table fully dressed. After eating, I divested myself of the t-shirt and stood at the sink to shave and wash. As I was washing, Maude came and stood behind me. In the mirror, I could see her twinkling blue eyes as she asked if I needed help washing my back. Mutely, I handed her the wash cloth and she began to run it over my back and then under my arms. It was when she reached around me to run it over my slim muscular torso that I became aware that she was breathing hard. Not only that, I could feel her breasts against my wet back. I erected immediately.

I heard her mutter; "We'd better wash this too." Then she pulled my waistband out with one hand and swooped with the wash cloth and firmly grasped my rigid manhood. "Oooh," she whispered, "that's a fair size young Derek, much bigger than my Bert's." I stood there stunned as she pulled the wash cloth out and threw it in the sink only to return with both hands to massage and stroke with the occasional caress of my now tightened balls. "Tell me I shouldn't be doing this. Tell me to act my age, young Derek."

Maude tightened her hands and skimmed the pre-cum off my slit with her thumb and I let out a strangled gasp. "You keep doing that and you'll have an accident on your hands, dear Maude."

"What? You'd cum for an old biddy like me? Dear oh dear."

"Maude, drop the old woman bullshit. To me you are a very sexually desirable woman and not the first lady of middle years that I've shared some mutual pleasure with. I appreciate the more mature rounded figure and you have one helluva a figure."

She giggled like a girl. "Prove it. Give me a table ender before I go to work. I haven't had a shag in years. Make it quick though. Here, I'll get my tits out if that turns you on." And so saying, she lifted her Goodhew Canning Factory smock up over her head and threw it on the kitchen chair. Her wonderfully brazen tits lifted with the action and started to bounce. She gripped them and then tweaked her arrogant nipples into prominence. "Come on then, young Derek, let's be having you."

Maude turned, dropped her panties and leaned on the table, conspicuously parting her sturdy legs and waggled her big broad behind at me. I could see the parting of the ways, her big lips hanging and dripping lubricant. I bent my knees, positioned my rearing prick and slid the head in. Reaching around her broad back, I gathered up her mighty bazooms and slid my cock deep into her hot welcoming depths. She gasped out loud. "Good gawdy Miss Maudie, he's big and beautiful. Fuck me lad, fuck me, I'm dying for it." And I did, fucked her hard and thoroughly, through three big orgasms I'm proud to say, before I totally lost it big time and fired salvo after salvo into her juicy cunt. We stood there shivering with the intensity of it before she stirred and squeezed me out of her still clutching vagina.

On the way down the hill to the cannery, we learnt that Jim would not be with us again. On the way down the hill to the cannery, I learnt that there were several other 'girls' on the line that would appreciate a visit from me. That had me salivating at the thought. Most of the ladies on the line were fishing widows, or left alone for long periods of time.

During the day, I phoned my soon to be ex-father-in-law, found out that the contract with the supermarket chain would be void if the cannery was sold, got it sold to me for a piss ant amount and had several computers sent. The grim old dear in the front office decided to retire and one of the younger widows from the floor volunteered to work there. She turned out to be a natural and was not beyond the odd cock sucking and a table ender when in the mood. Over a period of time, the village prospered as I set up a co-operative with the townsfolk. We did well because we had the best produce in the land and sold only to the high end of the market. Younger people came to work, the pretty village became de rigueur on the tourist scene and modernization took place, to some extent.

However, that first night in Maude's bed set the scene for years to come. I lay there, my head resting on her soft pillow as big broad Maude, her hands clenched in my chest hair rode up and down on my steely cock, her lovely blue eyes twinkling merrily while groped her massive hangers and latching my greedy hot mouth on her big maternal nipples. After cumming a blast, she licked and sucked me clean and then rigid, tit fucked me between her gorgeous breasts and finished me off in her lusty mouth. As we lay there entwined, she ticked off the names of about a dozen of her fellow workers who she'd lined up for me to fuck with the admonishment that I would have to wake up in her bed. I had a wonderful time with a bunch of extremely eager, well fed and upholstered ladies whose maturity allowed the raunchiest of couplings with some of what they wanted surprised even me. Even a three in bed romp with Maude happened on occasion.

Did I regret the day my wife found me rove up the family cook? Not on your Nelly. Paradise or what?

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