Chesterbury Tales Pt. 09

(He took a draught of beer, I remember. 'I hope yer don't mind me tellin' yer what I'm goin' t' say, but it all helps to explain what's happened.' I nodded encouragement and lit another cigarette.)

She told me much later that the main reason she joined in wi' the gang was to get screwed. (He saw my surprised reaction.) Aye. Well, it's true. But none of the lads fancied her like I did. Not a one. She was just another one of the lads to her. And she was bigger 'n most o' the lads, so nobody made up to her, like.

She was so frustrated, she said, that her secret little bud, as she called it, throbbed all the time and her body begged for attention. She cried wi' frustration many a night. I only wish I'd known, but there it is, she'd have nowt to do wi' me. Anyway, she has big fingers and they had to do the job o' pacifying her. Sometimes twice or even three times in a day.

She could never get any lad interested enough in screwing her. She didn't want to make the advances herself 'cause she'd have been treated as a slut, and 'ave been rejected. A slut, I suppose, if we're honest, is what being too keen on sex really made her. Even we rough 'n' ready lads expected our sisters - girlfriends - to behave wi' respect for themselves.

It's a bit different today, i'n't it? So, for a long time she had to make do wi' her fingers and other things. She could even get herself off by riding a bicycle - just rubbing against the saddle. Anyway, she were doin' well at college an' all that, until, one day, a new lad - Dennis - turned up in the gang, an' it were him as got into her knickers first, but quite a bit later on.

It were in the lad's garden shed in t' back garden, one afternoon afore his mother got 'ome. She'd tell me this tale often as a kind o' turn on. She knew that her honest descriptions of her having sex got me going and she liked to taunt me wi' these tales of her escapades. He was a big lad, she said. Big where it mattered. And that day she reckons she discovered paradise.

Once she'd had the feel of it inside her, she just couldn't get enough. The more she got the more she wanted. He didn't love her, this lad. He didn't care for her at all, really, but just used her for his own sexual satisfaction. Which was fair enough, I suppose, since that's all she was using him for.

Anyway, the garden of the house where this lad lived backed on to ours. From the little back bedroom where I used to sleep, I saw them one Saturday afternoon, sneaking into the shed. Being a bit jealous and wondering what they got up to in there, I crept down to the privet hedge at the bottom of our garden where I could see through the window of their shed.

It was a bit grubby, like, and I couldn't see all that well, but well enough to watch him banging in and out of her as she bent over, holding on to a shelf, and yelling at him to go harder. Well, his chopper was pretty fair, but nowt really to write home about, I thought.

She never knew that I watched 'em at it. Somehow, I didn't want to admit to Brenda that I was a peeping Tom, so I've never let on. Still haven't. So she doesn't know that I'd seen her having it off in that garden shed. When nobody was about, I cleaned the outside of the window so's I could see inside a bit better.

The gang had taken to using the lad's garden shed as their gang hut. The lad's father was no gardener so they all set to and cleared it out to make it comfortable. They had paraffin lamps to light it in the winter which they hung up on nails from the roof supports. Then, one day, I saw her sneaking down to the shed wi' the lad and his pal. Two of 'em.

I'd go straight down the garden and hide in the hedge. I'd found the best place to watch by this time, and saw them both shaft her, one after the other. Whilst one was at it, she'd have the other lad's chopper in her mouth. Well, it seems that this other lad couldn't keep his trap shut and blurted t' story out to t' other lads in t' gang about Brenda's willingness

This was when they were playing football in t' rec an' Brenda made a bit of a muck up of a pass and t' other lad said all she were good for was being stuffed. This Dennis were mad wi' him for splitting on her, but it were too late. The others now saw her in a different light and made her show 'em her tits, which were a fair size, I can tell you, and open her legs for 'em to look at her hairy slit.

She said that first time they'd taken her behind the lavatories in the rec. and made her show 'em her body, but she was willing enough. The excitement of having six or seven pairs of eyes gaping at her bare tits an' her fanny was enough to make her come she said. One of the lads took out his chopper, all stiff, and started to toss it off in front of her. She couldn't take he eyes off him.

Then another dropped his trousers and started to jerk off in front of her face. Soon they were all at it. Then one of the lads groaned and spurted his cum all over her face. It wasn't long, she said, before they'd all splattered their load into her mouth and over her cheeks and chin. That was sheer ecstasy for Brenda; to be dripping with cum.

The others decided they all wanted a share o' t' action. So the next Saturday morning I saw the whole gang arrive at the hut, and heard something of a commotion, so I crept to my hiding place and there they all were, egging on one of the lads who was screwing Brenda like mad, laying on the old wooden table.

The others were playing with their stiff willies, waiting their turn. She had a few in her mouth to keep them ready. They all 'ad her, one after t' other. An' some went for a second helping. She loved every minute of it she told me, an' were only sorry when it were all o'er. But on the second time I watched them at it, the lad's father came home from t' pub, a bit worse for wear, an' wondered what on earth were goin' on in the shed. I wanted to warn them, but couldn't, of course.

Well, he opened t' door to t' hut and caught 'em at it. He were speechless! I saw it all! The gang all pushed past him an' scarpered. The lad who'd been caught actually screwing her stumbled as he tried to pull his pants up on the run. It were bloody funny.

(He laughed at the memory and took another pull of his ale.)

Any road, the lad Dennis had had his turn and had fastened his flies up but he just stood there looking sheepish. His Dad sent 'im up to t' house. 'I'll deal wi' you later,' he told 'him.

Well, Brenda was sat up on th' edge of t' table, legs still apart, her fanny dripping with the lad's sperm. She still had her blouse open wi' her big tits hanging loose and her skirt and knickers on t' floor. Her face were crimson with embarrassment.

T' lad's father turned to her. 'Na then, young lass, what the 'ell do ye think you're up to? Yer all only kids an' behaving like rabbits, t' lot o' you. You're not even twenty-one yet! Does yer mother know about this carryin' on?'

He sounded angry, but all the while, the fellow's eyes were drawn to the sight of her brown nipples, then to the mass of hair between her legs. 'Lay back, lass,' he told her 'an' let's see what it is they find so tempting.'

Brenda did as she was told, presenting her open fanny to his stare. As he gazed with wide-open eyes, I watched him lick his dry lips. 'Well ... er .... we won't say nowt to yer mum but I'm goin' to 'ave t' teach you a lesson you'll remember.'

And he dropped his trousers and took out a really enormous chopper. At least that 'ow it looked to me. A bit short p'raps, but bloody thick wi' it. An' he stepped in between her legs and pushed it straight up her. I heard her gasp.

She squirmed and bucked as he banged away at her like a bloody piston, huffin' and puffin' like an engine. When he finished, he drew it out, stuffed it straight back into his trousers, pulled 'em up, and buttoned his flies.

'Let that be a lesson to you, young lass. Now, get off home!'

He watched her as she jumped down from the table, fastening her blouse, pulling up her knickers and skirt. And she left. She told me later that he was t' best of the lot, was t' father.

Now, I suppose you'll wonder what on earth I saw in a lass who some would say was no better than a prostitute. But to me, you see, she weren't a slag at all. As I figured it out, she were no different from those chaps who can't stop gambling', or can't stop smoking', or drinking', nor the lasses who can't stop eating' chocolates.

It's just an obsession wi' 'em. Is that the right word? Anyway, that's all it were. I couldn't stop lovin' her because, y' see, she was my obsession.

The only difference was that I couldn't satisfy mine like some others could. It's as simple as that really. When I watched her bein' banged by all them lads, I felt jealous, yes, but I also felt glad for her 'cause it's what made her happy. Same as you havin' a fag after you've been without for a few hours. Just sheer enjoyment.

She's told me often enough that she only feels alive when she's full of cock. The rest of the time she's nobody nor anything. She only really lives when she has a chopper up her inside. It might sound daft, but that how she puts it.

Anyway, the inevitable happened. She got herself pregnant. She'd no idea who'd fathered it. It could ha' been any one of 'em, couldn't it? So, because she couldn't point a finger to its father, nobody wanted to know.

Her mother was bloody annoyed, as you can imagine. She'd worked her fingers to t' bone to save for the lass's education only to be repaid by Brenda wi' a bun in t' oven. An' nobody to marry the lass. When I heard this tale from my own mother, I decided to ask her to marry me. I promised to pretend I was the father of the bairn and to bring it up as my own.

Brenda was bowled over! So were her mother! But they couldn't look the gift 'horse in the mouth, could they? In them days, having a bairn out of wedlock was still frowned on. Even living' in sin was against the morals of t' people. So I married her.

(We paused whilst I refilled our ale glasses, and put him a large scotch on the side. I wasn't sure why he was telling me all this, but it was such an absorbing tale, I wanted to know the end of it. He took a large gulp of the beer, then knocked back the whisky.)

That's o'er twenty years since. An' we've been as happy as any other couple, I expect, which probably isn't saying much. We all have our ups an' downs, but, by an' large, we've been happy together.

After the bairn were born we both worked hard and t' lad's done well enough an' is studying to be a vet. He's at Edinburgh. Keeping' him's a bit hard, but he got a good scholarship, so we can manage if Brenda keeps working'. But that's the bother of it.

After we'd been married a few years the old cravings came back to her. She was open enough to me about it an' we both did what we could to keep her happy. But, one day, she called into one of our old haunts after work, where she met a couple of the old gang, had a few gins wi' 'em and that were it. She went off the rails.

She came home late bedraggled and exhausted. But radiantly happy. She told me what had happened, which got me worked up and I would fuck her mangled fanny, still wet wi' others stuff. I put it on one side as just one o' them things.

But it happened again a few months later. So, remembering the days when I used to watch her through that grimy garden-shed window, I decided to set up some proper arrangements, without her knowledge. I could always tell when she were ready for a good banging, 'cause she'd start to get moody.

I won't bother explaining the details of how I managed it, but every couple o' months or so, I'd secretly watch her getting stuffed by three mates o' mine what I could trust. But I misjudged her moods and about two months ago she went off the rails again. Only this time, she didn't come home all night. An' I got worried.

But she turned early up the next morning in a rough state with a black eye, bruises on her body and a big hang over. She couldn't really remember what happened except that she got in with this crowd o' rough necks. One of 'em were in the old gang, so he knew her.

But he weren't the gang leader, she said. T' gang leader were a short chap, wi' a mop o' ginger hair, and as strong as an 'horse, she said. She went with 'em into an old barn behind the pub and gave her a real banging. This chap wi' ginger hair was the one who roughed her up and smacked her about the face and taunted her with beer bottles asking how she'd like one that size up her with another stuck up her arse.

He bashed her about the 'head an' had the others hold her down over an old saw horse. She said some of the others weren't keen on joining in, but they were too scared of 'im to refuse. He made one of 'em stuff 'er up the backside whilst he stuffed her from the front.

Anyway, when they'd 'ad enough, they tied her up and left her in the barn. The ginger chap came back early the next morning an' 'ad another go at her before letting her go, warning her to keep her mouth shut. I begged her to tell me where this pub was, but she wouldn't. But she promised not to go near it again.

(He paused and shook his head and took a long pull of his beer. I lit another cigarette but said nothing. He went on.)

Well, she did! Two nights ago! Like an obsession, you see, she couldn't keep away, even though she got beat up. She didn't want to. But she couldn't stop 'herself. This time, only two of the others chaps joined in. The old member of the gang of her younger days cried off. He didn't want to get involved.

After she'd 'ad a few gins, she went with 'em into this 'ere barn. They ripped her clothes off her - aye, ripped - an' after all three had fooled around wi' her, biting her nipples hard and banging her, rough like, they beat her up, spit on her, even pissed over her. One of 'em even made her take his chopper in her mouth and pissed in it 'til she nearly choked.

They called her names and told her what a filthy whore of a bitch she were. Mucky Brenda, they called her. They behaved like hysterical animals an' she began to sober up an' get really scared. It wasn't a game any more. They threatened to pour petrol over her and set fire to her but she didn't think they meant it. She really thought they meant to do her in altogether, though.

As it were, two of 'em banged her again before they kicked her in the stomach and beat her unconscious and, finally, the ginger chap with a great leer stuffed an old beer bottle up her. Only this bottle were a broken one. She didn't know that at the time until when she came round and found it sticking out on her, wi' blood trickling from the bottle-neck.

She knew that if he came back sober t' next morning he'd realise he'd gone too far and be forced to kill her. She was in a lot o' pain and bleedin' bad, but she managed to get herself out of the rope - she said they were too drunk to tie it properly - and crawled out of the barn.

To say she was distressed would be an understatement. Lucky for her, as she staggered down the street in the early hours of t' morning, a cruising police car passed. They saw her an' thinking she were drunk, stopped. When they saw what a state she were in, they took her straight to t' hospital. An' that's where she is now.

(He looked at me and shrugged. I just didn't know what to say. To tell the truth, I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. I asked him how he found out about all this. He told me.)

When they came to fetch me at about five in t' morning, I thought it were her coming home. But when I opened the door an' saw the blue helmets, my heart stopped. I thought Oh! Bloody 'ell! What's 'happened?

They told me that Brenda'd had a bit of an accident and 'ad been taken to t' infirmary. They told me to put some clothes on an' took me to see her. When I saw her, her face was in a right mess. All bruised and swollen black and blue. Her black eyes so puffed up she could hardly see out of 'em. Several teeth were broken and her lips were gashed an' swelled up. Her jaw, cheek bone, collar bone and some ribs - all broken.

She told me that there were deep teeth marks on her tits. One nipple was half-bitten off. The other injuries were a result of the broken bottle. They'd patched her up wi' stitches until the proper surgeon came on duty. I just went wild inside! I were boiling!

Why couldn't they have just banged her an' enjoyed it? But I said nowt to her. I just kissed her an' told her that I loved her. 'Cause, you see, I do. Then they wanted me to go to t' police station to question me as though I'd done it. She'd already told them it weren't me, but they wanted to be sure.

You see, she wouldn't tell 'em where she'd been or who she'd been wi'. She pretended not to remember. All she knew was that it weren't me. They asked me if I knew who'd done it and where she'd been, but I said I didn't know a thing - which were true. But when I went to see her again last night, she finally told me the name of t' pub, but pleaded wi' me not to do anything nor tell t' police. They'd get to her and do her in, she said, if she split on 'em.

She promised she'd never go back again. T' Oddfellows. Bottom o' London road. That's where it were. But you see, knowing it were her obsession, I couldn't be sure she wouldn't go back when she were better. I couldn't risk it. They'd kill her if ever she went back there.

Well, last night I dropped into this pub myself' after work. It were about half past six an' not many drinkers in. I noticed this loud-mouthed, ginger-haired chap in a corner drinking and laughing wi' two others. They looked right rough types.

I stood at the bar an' ordered a pint. I got into casual conversation wi' them. As you do. They told me they were laughing about this ugly, old, randy bitch who came in looking for spare chopper. 'Bloody 'ell,' the ginger one said, 'you'd need a skinful afore you'd stick yer chopper up that smelly old bitch.'

They all laughed. 'Still, they're all t' same in t' dark they say! So, what the 'ell! We took her into the barn at t' back an' give her what she wanted, didn't we lads?'

More laughter! 'Will she be in tonight, do y' reckon,' I asked.

'Doubt it,' the ginger one said with a guffaw.

It were that guffaw what did for 'im. I was boiling wi' rage inside. But pretended to be enjoying the joke. 'We give 'er enough last night to last her a week or two, didn't we lads?'

They howled with laughter. 'You're telling me!' one sputtered. But he couldn't stop bragging', this ginger-haired chap. 'Once they've 'ad a taste o' my chopper,' he said, 'they always come back for more, don't they lads. Again an' again! Then, when I've 'ad enough, t' others can 'ave a go. These two.'

He nodded at t' other two. 'And anyone else who 'happens to be around and fancies a bit o' rough.' It wasn't long afore the ginger chap wanted to go to the lavatory to relieve himself, so I followed 'im out, joking' about how I wished I 'ad his talents.

'I could do wi' a bit o' spare myself,' I joked.

The lavatory were across a cobbled yard. An old, dirty outside bog, with a single stone slab and gutter wi' a bunged-up outlet. Next to it was the barn.

When he'd finished peeing' and giving' it a shake, I said 'Go on then, let's see this monster o' thine then.' He couldn't resist boasting. He laughed and turned and faced me to show off his semi-stiff chopper.

I suppose talking about it 'ad got him a bit excited, like. So, I kicked 'im hard in the balls. There an' then. Hard as I could.

As he doubled up I' pain, I banged the insides of my wrists into his ears, grabbed him by the hair on either side of his head and jerked up my other knee to smash it into 'is face. There were a squelchin' crunchin' sound.

I think I broke his nose.

With luck I'd burst 'is ear-drums as well. Then, as he jerked backwards from that, I kicked him very hard in the balls again, and when he lolled forward, cracked him as hard as I could on the back of his neck wi' a rabbit punch. He didn't really know what 'ad hit 'im.