Goodwife

Nolsby and Edmund were infamous for villainy across the Barony of Timdilly. As boys, they led a poorly supervised existence near the charcoal kiln where their fathers scratched a meager living. Occasionally they pilfered goods from freehold and tenant farmers nearby; more often they indulged themselves in churlish pranks. On one occasion they snuck into Sir Louvel's own pastures and painted erect phalluses on the flanks of the cattle. The stunt elicited covert laughter from the common folk nearabout; however, Sir Louvel could not ignore the affront to his dignity and issued an ordinance to the effect that the perpetrators be publicly thrashed with a switch. Although most of the locals suspected Nolsby and Edmund, their guilt could never be proved. As young men, the two miscreants took their places at their fathers' charcoal kiln. They supplemented this work by selling cords of firewood to the folk of Timdilly Town. The profit of this venture was ensured by a series of onerous regulations designed to halt the remorseless destruction of the woodland where Sir Louvel hunted with his dogs.

On one morning in early summer, the two men traveled north along Timdilly Lane toward the forest where they planned to cut firewood. They went in leisurely strides leading a small pony and rickety cart. Rounding a bend in the lane, they noticed the approach of Torman, a tenant farmer who lived on a farmstead nearby. His son Tawncy walked by his side; the boy stared with admiration at butterflies as they flittered through a field of ripening barley. Torman came up at an easy pace and stopped to give a salutation.

"Well then boys, where are you going today? I figured that you would not return to the kiln for a few days."

Nolsby responded wistfully. "We are for the forest to cut wood. Naturally, we would prefer to stay in town for more wine bibbing. But we must not idle, lest we die in penury."

"That is commendable and industrious of you. My boy and I are bound for the hayfields. Sir Louvel anticipates a few days of fine weather and he wants the mowing done before the rains come and rot the stores."

Nolsby and Edmund looked at each other for an instant. "That is sensible policy. You will be absent for a day or two then?"

"Even with all hands, there is much scything and bailing. I expect we will be away for three days at least. Alison will have to manage on her own for a while."

Nolsby and Edmund stood looking at each other for a moment after Peter and Tawncy went on with their business. Their chatter grew exuberant as they continued along the lane. After an hour, they turned off Timdilly Lane and made their way down a narrow, rutted track. In due course, they arrived at the fenced yard in front of Torman's cottage. The yard was in pristine order; hens had been turned out to peck at the ground. A pig snorted noisily as it picked through a pile of acorns. The cottage itself was whitewashed and crowned with fresh thatch. The front door hung ajar, and all the windows were open to admit the morning breeze. From inside the hut, the boys heard the rhythmic thrush whoosh of a broom; Torman's wife, Alison, was singing a buoyant melody as she went about her chores.

--

Before dawn, Alison awoke in her family's pallet near the hearth of their cottage. The embers had burned low; the features of the room were obscured in inky darkness. Torman snored gently; Tawncy, lying crosswise at their feet, made no sound at all. Alison rose with sluggish resolution. She tossed a few slender branches to the embers; their burning suffused the room in flickering orange light. She pulled a red frock over her undergarments and tied up her mussy, raven hair with a strip of wool cloth. Bucket in hand, she went into the paling darkness of the yard. A trail at the back of the yard brought her to Timdilly Rill.

When the warble of running water grew audible, Alison turned off the small trail and squatted by a nearby tree to ease her bladder and bowels. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as urine and shit tumbled into a puddle between her legs. Utilizing a few handfuls of straw, Alison wiped her puckered anus and went down to the creek. She undressed and stepped gingerly into the cold stream to wash. With clammy fingers, she scrubbed the doughy flesh of her thick thighs and heavy shoulders. Her nipples, crowned on massive, drooping breasts, stiffened in response to the cool water. Alison's mind wandered when her fingers fluttered over the lips of her pussy. Her fertile time was at hand and it brought wistful moods. She rarely thought about her husband at such moments. Their lovemaking was infrequent and generally terse. The faces of handsome strangers came to mind, causing a skip in her chest.

On any other day, she might have lingered by the stream, pleasuring herself indulgently before an audience of dragonflies and songbirds. But there was preparation to be done for Torman's departure. Alison promised herself that she would finish what she started when the chores were done and the cottage empty. In the meantime, the sky had turned a wan yellow. She dressed, filled the bucket with cool water, and returned to the cottage.

Back at the cottage, Torman was awake and loading the donkey in preparation for his departure. Alison packed linen sacks with ham, dark bread, and hard cheese to last Torman and Tawncy several days. She broached a cask of ale that she had laid to mature in the cupboard. She nodded approvingly at its tawny color and bitter taste. She filled several skins and helped to load the victual on the donkey's back. When all was done, she exchanged affectionate kisses with her husband and son and waved to them as they disappeared along the track toward Timdilly Lane.

Alison went about her chores with fervent industry. The eggs were collected, and the hens turned out into the yard. The cow was milked and the wooden bucket, brimming with chalky milk, set on a cool shelf in a cupboard. Alison weeded the vegetable garden, threw acorns to the sow, and opened the windows and door of the cottage to admit fresh air. While sweeping the hearth, she began to sing. Lulled by her own voice and the rhythmic thrush of her broom, she presently fell into a trance of pleasant daydreams.

--

The sound of squeaking wheels and a pony snorting broke Alison's trance; she set down her broom and went to the door. She watched with surprise as the charcoal burners, Nolsby and Edmund, pushed through the gate and entered the yard.

"A fine morning to you Goodwife Alison!" The two men called with jocular good humor.

"Good morning," Alison responded. "What can I do for you?"

Nolsby motioned down the path. "We passed Torman on our way to the Forest. He mentioned that you might provide a small repast and some other foods for our journey, in even trade for a few heavy bundles of firewood?"

Alison reflected skeptically on the concept. Their supply of wood was adequate for now. Perhaps Torman felt that the cost would only increase as the autumn came closer, or so she speculated. Willing to be convinced, she ushered the men into the cottage and motioned to the bench by the window where her family took their meals. She worried that folk might gossip if they saw her with guests; still, no one was likely to visit until the afternoon. She put the thought aside.

Nolsby and Edmund took their seats at the bench. They smelled of old sweat and Alison wondered about the frequency of their bathing. She suppressed her curled nostrils and shuttled about the cottage. She cut two generous slices from the ham dangling over the hearth. From the pantry, she took a loaf of coarse dark bread. These she placed on the table before the two men, along with bowls of fresh blackberries and cream and beechwood tankards of tawny ale and cool milk. While she went about her work, Nolsby and Edmund surveyed her with catatonic eyes. They admired her plump round ass and thick thighs. Her breasts heaved against her linen smock. Her too-large eyes and too-small mouth gave an owl-like appearance to her face. Their cocks stiffened against their linen hose. Alison noticed their admiration but pretended aloofness. She felt queer satisfaction at their attention. Torman's glances lacked lusty impulse; the sensation of being ogled was a novelty. When the food was served, the men ate and drank with unrestrained appreciation.

Alison turned her back to the table, intent on returning to her broom. Without warning, she felt a set of hands grasp her hips. It was Nolsby. His odor grew large in her nose. Her immediate reaction was to jerk and cry out in startled bewilderment but Nolsby's burly arms held her firmly.

Suddenly overcome by shock, Alison's muscles grew tense and stiff. Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest. Nolsby spoke calming words in her ear; she seemed not to hear. He pressed her against the plastered wall of the cottage and rubbed his groin against her soft ass. Edmund continued eating and watched his friend's activity with apparent amusement.

"Nolsby," he chided sarcastically. "Use her gently! That is no way to proposition a respectable woman."

Alison remained stiff but found her voice. She demanded that they give over their mischief. Nolsby ignored her. With some effort, he laid her rigid form on the pallet by the hearth. The weight of his body pinned her legs to the wool blanket beneath her. His effort was wasted; Alison, paralyzed by surprise and fear, had given over any thought of struggle. She lay motionless while Nolsby pulled her frock and undergarments over her head. Her doughy, pale skin showed goosebumps in the morning chill.

She watched with owl eyes as he loosened the cords on his hose and pulled them down to his ankles. The appearance of his erect cock sent shudders of anticipation and revulsion along her spine. She stared with bated breath as Nolsby knelt between her leg and guided his throbbing cock toward the tangled mat of dark hair in her crotch. Nolsby gasped as the puffy lips of Alison's damp pussy parted to admit him. Alison shuddered and groaned. Her teeth were set on edge by the painful intrusion. She lay back against the straw of her bed and closed her eyes. Nolsby heaved his cock in and out of her cunt with spasmodic urgency. Alison's eyes opened and fixed on a point in the far corner of the cottage. She clutched at the blanket but otherwise remained languid and still.

She soon regained sluggish awareness of her surroundings. Every thrust of Nolsby's groin emitted a gross squishing. Fluids leaked in rivulets down her legs and the cleft of her ass. Droplets tickled Nolsby's swaying scrotum and soaked the pallet where she slept at night with her family. Despite herself, she began to relax and breathe. Pleasure spread outward from her gaping cunt. She began to moan like a whore; her back arched to meet his thrusts with sluggish effort. Nolsby noticed her growing quiescence and slowed his pace, even pausing occasionally to paw at her bouncing tits.

Edmund watched from the bench. Having sated his appetite, he lazily masturbated his enormous cock with his right hand; with the left hand, he nursed the dregs of his ale. Alison's eyes fixed on his cock. It was ruddy, swollen, and grotesque.

"Nolsby! Hurry up, will you?" Edmund growled. "Greed is an insipid vice. Let someone else have a turn!"

Nolsby acknowledged his friend's words by accelerating his thrusts. He pressed himself into Alison, throwing his weight against her pale skin. She felt his muscles tense. His scrotum jerked slightly; after an agonized groan, he squirted long ropes of thick cum deep into her womb. Alison thought to feel his thick seed filling her fertile cunt; the sensation produced a curious mingling of exultation and revulsion. After his orgasm subsided, Nolsby lingered a moment and looked around the cottage as if seeing it for the first time. He slipped his softening cock from Alison's pussy with a small grunt.

Alison's groin was a sopping mess of black hair; fluid and semen leaked out in furtive streams. The room was stifled by the smell. With a satisfied grin, Nolsby knelt beside her face and flopped his wet, flaccid dick against her forehead. Driven by caprice, Alison opened her mouth and licked it clean. The taste was a mingling of musky fluid, salty cum, and sour sweat; the effect was intoxicating.

Edmund approached from the bench and knelt before her. Unprompted, Alison opened her legs to admit him. Without preamble, he pressed his enormous cock inside her pussy. The sensation drove the breath from her chest. Each thrust seemed to drive his bulbous cockhead against the base of her belly. Alison's pussy, stretched tight by Edmund's girth, remained slick from the frothing remnants of Nolsby's ejaculation.

After several minutes, Edmund withdrew himself. He turned Alison onto her belly; she raised her plump bottom high in the air. With a clumsy thrust, Edmund reentered her cunt. Alison moaned, gasped, slobbered, and clawed at the pallet. Her orgasm came suddenly; her body grew limp and then began shaking uncontrollably. Edmund noticed her rapture and spanked her bare ass with such force that she yelped. Her ass cheek burned with flittering fire, sending her further jolts of terrible ecstasy.

Upon emerging from her transport, she felt Edmund grip her broad hips with both hands. He pressed hard against her, pinning her against the pallet. Edmund began a high-pitched groaning like the sound of a whining dog. Amid tiny convulsions, his seed spurted into Alison's womb in heavy jets where it mingled with that of Nolsby.

--

When his climax subsided, Edmund pulled himself from Alison's cunt and planted another tart spank on her exposed rump. Shaking off her stupor, Alison rolled off the pallet and clutched at her discarded frock and undergarments. Nolsby and Edmund seated themselves at the bench and started laughing at her expense. She responded with a baleful glare. Despite the look, Alison's anger was listless; her initial mortification had lost its edge. She also knew that there were times when a woman in her place must make virtue from necessity.

With an exaggerated pout, Alison went to the pantry. She packed generous portions of dark bread, ham, turnips, leeks, peas, and even fragrant cheese into linen cloth for the boys to eat during their labors in the forest. She also filled their skins to brimming with tawny ale.

With feigned combativeness, Alison herded Nolsby and Edmund to the door. They stumbled into the yard, bundled refreshments in hand, grinning and giggling like children.

"Off with you villains!" Alison chided. "And wash yourselves. You stink like a pair of tanners."

"We will be back soon with your firewood. Try not to miss us too much!" Nolsby called.

"Don't worry Goodwife. Torman won't suspect the brat isn't his!" Edmund added.

Alison laid her head against the doorway and watched them as they went. They waved and blew kisses before disappearing out of sight in the direction of Timdilly Lane. Drops of pale cum snaked down from Alison's crotch and tickled the insides of her legs. She reached under the hem of her smock and caught a few drops in her fingers. After a brief hesitation, she placed the fingers in her mouth and licked passionately. A few minutes later, she turned away from the door to resume her chores.