English Pub Landlady Ep. 18

It was unheard of in the village. Everyone knew what one was but it wasn't something they'd ever been invited to. Well, Helen had, and I had, but that wasn't around here. Helen had even met The Queen at one. I kept quiet; I didn't want her taking the mickey again.

Colin and Faith were having a Garden Party. To add a further new occurrence for the village they were including a barbecue.

As well as half the village they had invited some of their former parishioners from Bristol. There was much speculation amongst the locals. No-one thought that they would have two heads but it was well known that city folk could have some strange ways. I suggested that as they were devout Christians they probably wouldn't be that bad. This only added to the general idea that they must be weirdos.

If you asked most of the villagers what their religion was they would probably all say they were C of E. If you asked them what C of E meant only half of them would know it was Church of England.

When I was at school Sister Bridget would often say, "The English are a godless people."

When I told her that I considered myself more English than Catholic she pulled my knickers down and used the slipper on me. I've never held the opinion that the slipper was a valid way to win an argument.

Along with a lot of my generation, I feel the Anglican Church is more about belonging than believing. If you asked me now what my religion is, I would probably say C of E.

Sister Bridget would turn in her grave; and I sincerely hope that she has a grave to turn in.

That said, I still don't go to church.

The W.I. ladies had been press ganged into helping with preparations for the garden party. They were offended that they'd been asked but they would have been far more offended if they hadn't been asked. In the week leading up to it they made bunting from scraps of material of every conceivable colour and pattern. They dug out their spare tablecloths and crockery. Some of them made cakes.

On the day they dragged trestle tables and chairs from the church hall. They washed and prepared salad. They buttered rolls. They laid out condiments.

Everything edible or drinkable was ordered from the village shop and supplied by the wholesalers. I suggested this, so somehow I got the bill. I didn't matter, I would have taken care of it anyway.

Colin said that the good weather on the day was due to the power of prayer. It seemed to me more likely that the people that do the weather forecast had finally liaised with the people who organise the weather.

Most of the local guests were in the garden by the time the visitors arrived. As soon as they set foot in the lane outside the Vicarage Harry had a lustful look in his eye. He really has a thing for minibuses these days ever since I hired one for Glenda's wedding.

Introductions were made all round. It was a little disappointing as they seemed, well, normal. There were a few couples, of varying ages, as well as some people on their own. They made the usual jokes about the fresh air being bad for their lungs and it being too quiet to think; I was impressed. No-one even mentioned religion. Old Tom managed to ask a couple and their son, who were obviously of Caribbean descent, where they were from. Darlene and Noris graciously told him that they were from Bristol but that their parents had come over from Tobago. Their son, Chris, thought it was quite funny. When I spoke to him later he said old people don't mean to cause offence, they are just interested in you but their vocabulary is forty years out of date. Very Christian of him, I thought.

Chris also related the story of the first time he visited Glasgow. An old drunk called him an English Bastard. He didn't know whether to be offended or proud to be disliked simply because he was English.

It was after that that Chris' problems really started. Rita latched on to him. She cut him out from the others. Then she got him a drink. Then she got him some food. Then she insisted he needed more of both. She flashed her smile at him. Then she flashed her tits at him. The poor boy was doomed.

She said to me quietly, "His dick is enormous!"

"How do you know?" I hissed.

"Well, I may have accidentally grabbed it," she replied.

I circulated a bit. Speaking to some of the visitors and some of the locals. I tried to stop them from sticking in their seperate groups. I know it wasn't my place to do it but it meant I didn't get landed with just one person.

Mind you I wasn't so sure that the mixing was a good idea when I heard Glenda talking to a middle-aged couple. "Craig and me spent a weekend in Bristol a couple of months back. We wanted to go to the *********** Club. Have you been there? she asked.

Fortunately, they had never heard of it. I managed to steer the couple towards the Alices before Glenda could explain what sort of club it was. I didn't want her telling them that although it was supposed to be a mixed sauna night, they were the only couple there. When Glenda had told me about it, she said she had never sweated so much in her whole life. She said it was really seedy. There were about twenty dirty old perverts there. She had sex with about half of them. Evidently, Craig and her are going back again next month.

I managed to speak to quite a few of Colin's former parishioners. Most of them had never left the city before. They were intrigued by village life. The fact that we knew and actually spoke to all of our neighbours surprised them.

The Vicar, Colin, pulled me to one side. I thought, "Here we go, he's going to ask me why I don't go to church."

Instead he said, "I wanted to thank you for helping Faith to settle in. She's a changed woman since you've found ways for her to spend her evenings."

"We have become much closer lately. She comes home from the monthly gatherings at the pub full of spirit. And entertaining the young man at Henchard's Farm has opened up a lot of new things for her."

I wasn't sure if he was letting me know that he knew that I knew that he enjoyed fucking his wife after she had been out strumping. So I just said, "Glad I could help."

At one point I remembered to eat something. While I was getting to grips with a slightly burnt beef burger in a bap, Chris found me. I asked him what he did for a living. He worked for the City Council Museums Department. I was stunned when he said that he had studied social history at University. He had always been fascinated by the lives of ordinary people, particularly the ways in which they enjoyed themselves. "You should talk to my friend Imogen," I said.

He wanted to know all about the pub and the role it had played in village life over the centuries. They had old buildings in Bristol, of course, but they tended to be quite grand. None of the working class homes survived. I thought that most of my predecessors as licensee would have been quite horrified to be included in the working class but I let it go.

I would have liked to have spoken to him longer but we both got dragged away to talk to other people.

The next time I saw Chris, Rita had him trapped in a corner. Brian was watching them with a smile on his face. I thought that he had his hand in his pocket and was stroking his bollocks; but I could have been mistaken.

Chris didn't appear to be trying to escape so I guess the bike, sorry Rita, was finally getting to him.

I was just saying to Faith how well the party was going when Rita called me over. "I'm just going to show Chris around the pub if that's OK," she said.

"I'll come with you," I said.

Rita looked annoyed, "Oh, there's no need for you to put yourself out."

"No, it would be my pleasure," I replied.

When we reached the pub, Rita nearly pushed Chris through the sidedoor.

As I closed the door behind me Rita hissed, "Keep watch!"

Before I had time to be offended at being given orders in my own pub, Rita and Chris had their tongues down each other's throats. I just turned and put my back to the door. "This could be worth seeing," I thought. I've never been an enthusiast for porn films but there is something rather stimulating about watching someone you know and love being fucked.

Chris lifted her blouse and felt her bra. Then he lifted her bra and sucked her tits. Rita was past the foreplay stage, she wanted cock. She pulled his crisp white shirt out of his waistband and went for his belt. She soon had his trousers around his ankles.

And then came the moment we had both been waiting for.

Rita slid his boxers downwards to reveal his dick. Not all of his dick. It needed a second slide to free it all.

"God!" Rita said.

"God!" I thought.

It was thick. Not Trev thick but pretty thick.

What brought religion to both of us was the length.

Well, not just the length.

It was long but it was the sheer beauty of it. I had expected it to be shiny and black.

Rita had expected it to be shiny and black.

It was both of those things. Even in its not quite ready state it sort of glowed. I'm not talking about Rudolf here, or a light sabre, more a sort of warmth.

Rita sank to her knees. I wasn't sure if it was to get a better look or to worship it.

She held it in both hands and worked her way towards the business end. Rita slipped her lips over the exposed knob. That's about as much as she could get in. As she used her hands to move it in and out slightly, the magnificent snake grew rigid.

An idea flashed across Rita's face. In one fluid movement, she stood up, whipped off her drawers and laid back on one of the large tables with her bum and skirt hanging over the end. Her legs were in the air and she had hold of her ankles. You have to admire the agility of younger people. I would have fallen over.

Chris shuffled towards her.

"Help him. Help him!" Rita shouted at me.

As I reached the table, Chris had his purple knob up against Rita's cunt. I gripped his python about six inches from its head and eased it into her. My hand moved back a couple of inches. I gripped and fed her fanny some more. And then some more.

Rita had her legs over his shoulders. Chris gripped her hands, interlocking fingers with her.

She must have entertained about fourteen inches before I touched bollocks. Then Chris pushed forward just enough for my clenched hand to touch Rita's fanny. Then he pulled back.

I know, I should have left them to it but I wanted to keep the monster on course. When six inches was left in Rita, he came forward again. He'd done this before. Withdrawing too far could make the return journey precarious.

I kept a grip on the base of the snake for no better reason than I wanted to be involved. Rita's juice glistened on the surface of the black skin as it glided back and forth.

With a steady rhythm he pushed it in, and I pulled it out, of her snatch piece. Every time my fist hit against her, Rita's eyes rolled upwards and she gasped for air. In my mind I was protecting her interests. If I had let go she would be taking another three inches of the monster. She may well have liked that but I didn't let her take that chance.

The downside of Rita's attention to Chris for most of the afternoon was that he was in a heightened state of excitement. I felt his excitement. I gripped harder. He thrust harder. Rita moaned louder. He wanted to come. I gripped harder. Rita wanted him to come. I gripped harder.

Rita grabbed my arm and pulled it away. It was totally unexpected so I released my hold. Chris groaned as the bit of extra cock slipped in. Rita groaned as he filled her up with prick and spunk. He pulled her hands harder to get as far up her as possible and held himself there.

Rita was crying. I nearly cried myself but for a different reason.

Slowly Chris retrieved his cock.

The table was a mess. Rita was a mess. Her skirt was in a mess too.

I found bar towels and threw one at her. I wrapped Chris' prick up in another. It was retreating fast but I managed to wipe it dry.

In the casual way that men do after a quick shag, Chris hoisted his pants and trousers.

Rita rolled off the table and smoothed her skirt down.

"Are you going home now then?" I asked her.

"No!" she said.

"I hope that even you wouldn't be brazen enough to go back to the party looking like a snail had crawled all over you. You had better go upstairs and find yourself one of my skirts. Try to get something similar to the one you are wearing."

"Chris and I will go back now. Perhaps you'd care to join us when you're decent and have washed this table and floor." It was a bit like old times with me in charge and her the cleaning lady.

When we were back at the vicarage garden Chris had to make up some bullshit about the pub being interesting.

Brian asked me if Rita had got herself sorted. I reassured him that she had.

Two mature ladies, who I had only smiled at earlier, engaged me in small talk. I did my best. We were interrupted by Faith who manoeuvred me to one side.

"Don't forget to have some cake," she told me.

"Talking of cake, how are your Wednesdays going at Henchard's Farm with Jem?", I replied.

"Very well, thank you for enquiring. We don't talk much, if that's what you want to know. As soon as I get there he puts on a dirty film. Then he spends the rest of the evening experimenting on me. I'm perfectly aware that to him I am just a forty something fuck toy. I really couldn't ask for anything more."

"I don't get home until late. Colin is very sweet, he always waits up for me and shows a keen interest in exactly how and where I've been used. Then he fucks me in the spunkiest hole."

"It feels quite holy to donate my body to a young man who wouldn't get rid of his built up testosterone if I didn't help out."

"I know he goes to his friend Trev's every Saturday night to play video games and that his mum comes in to clean for him every other day. Apart from that and work I'm the only social life he has," Faith concluded.

"What cake is there?" I asked, changing the subject quickly.

I made it known that anyone who wanted to was welcome to spend the evening in the pub. We dusted off the old upright. The sing-song went down well with visitors and locals alike.

Before your dirty mind goes wandering off, it was the third Saturday of the month. So nobody was locked in, knocked off, banged up, worked over, reamed out, hosed down or any other euphemism you can think of.

Colin and Faith had planned to put most of the Bristolian couples up for the night at the vicarage with any singles being billeted with various villagers. By pure coincidence, we had been allocated Chris and two elderly ladies at the pub.

"If it will help, we can put Chris up," said Glenda.

"No, it's fine," I replied.

Helen suggested, "There's room for Chris at my place to save you having too many."

"No, it's fine," I replied.

"I know when the Vicar asked, we said we couldn't put anyone up but Chris could always stay with us, if it will make things easier," Rita volunteered.

"No, it's fine. He will be fine with me," I replied.

And it was fine. Absolutely fine.