Nobody Puts Barnaby in the Corner

Dorchester is a lovely little town. Its history is older than England itself. Even before the Romans arrived there were Celtic people living in the area. The Celtic people had either pushed out or integrated with even older tribes. When the Romans went home the Anglo-Saxon people arrived and either pushed out or integrated with the Celtic people that the Romans had left behind. Their descendants make up the majority of the population still. I haven't mentioned the Norman French, they made no attempt to push out or integrate; they only subjugated.

Since all this pushing out or integrating had taken place the prosperity of the town had risen and fallen at different times. As I say, Dorchester is a lovely little town and despite being the County Town of Dorset, and strategically placed on the road to nearly everywhere, I can't help thinking that Dorchester has never quite reached its full potential.

Unfortunately, someone who had reached his full potential was Barnaby Barnaby. If I was being kind, I would describe Barnaby as being simple. Most people weren't kind when describing Barnaby Barnaby.

Barnaby Barnaby liked being called Barnaby Barnaby because it saved him having to remember his surname. Although, sometimes it saved him having to remember his Christian name instead.

Under normal circumstances Barnaby Barnaby would have led an unhappy life full of poverty and misery. But his circumstances weren't normal. Mr and Mrs Barnaby had built up quite a successful grocery business in Dorchester and, because Barnaby Barnaby was their only son, they had employed him in the shop. At the age of twenty-one, he had risen to the position of errand boy. Each year his parents had increased his salary without increasing his responsibilities. By now he was their best paid employee. This didn't make him overly popular with the other hard working people at Barnaby's the Grocers.

I am sure that many of you have worked at a firm where the idiot son of the proprietor is in a high paid position which is of no earthly use to the company. I know that I have.

You may be questioning the wisdom of Mrs and Mrs Barnaby naming their son Barnaby. I must point out that their decision was not devoid of logic. You see, within both of their families there was a well established tradition of using the wife's maiden name as the Christian name of a couple's first born child. Now, as Mr and Mrs Barnaby were cousins, Mrs Barnaby's maiden name was in fact Barnaby.

Some unkind people have suggested that this may be the reason that Barnaby Barnaby was soft in the head. I, personally, wouldn't be so unfeeling. If pressed, I would suggest it was more to do with the fact Mrs Barnaby did absolutely everything for her son. When nothing is expected of you there is no reason to achieve anything.

From all that I have told you, I wouldn't want you to think that Barnaby Barnaby had to be transported about in a basket. Or even that he breathed through his mouth and dribbled all the time. Outwardly he was quite a pleasant looking young man. Admittedly, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the box but that was forgivable. His big crime against humanity was that he was as gullible as fuck.

If anyone told Barnaby a sob story about a misfortune he would put his hand in his pocket straight away.

You may be saying that that is not the worst trait in the world and I am inclined to agree with you. That is why I am determined to pay him back just as soon as I can.

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

Barnaby, I think that you know enough about him by now for me to use his first name only, had been sent to deliver two bottles of ginger beer to a customer three streets away from the shop, more to get him out of everybody's way than anything. It was a pleasant Summer's day so he was walking slowly.

As he turned the corner from High West Street, Barnaby bumped into Colm Jeffries; literally.

"Watch where you're going mummet!" said Colm, holding out his hand.

Barnaby reached into his pocket and fetched out a shilling which he gave to Colm. Years before Colm would tell Barnaby some elaborate yarn about needing a shilling to rescue a litter of dead kittens or such like but now he didn't even bother with the pretence.

At a point about half way further into his errand he came across an obstruction to the pavement, furniture to be precise. There was a woman sitting on a dining room chair exactly where Barnaby needed to pass. In his opinion she was older than him but younger than his mother so that made her attractive.

"Is this your furniture?" he enquired of the woman.

"Yes, the carter just dumped it here and then buggered off."

"Are you moving it into this house so that you can live there?"

"No, I'm moving it in so I can build a bonfire."

"I could help you but I don't want to be here when you light it," said Barnaby.

The woman laughed. She was under the impression that he had made a witty riposte to her sarcasm.

"That would be very kind of you. But first of all, why don't you share your ginger beer with me. I'm parched dry."

"Well, it's not actually my ginger beer. It belongs to my parents, they own the grocery shop in High West Street. I have to deliver it to a customer. Then it will belong to them.

Delilah, that was the woman's name, perked up when she felt that Barnaby had connections to a source of money. "Do your old folks pay you for all this important work that you do?"

"Yes, very well. Thirty-five shillings a week, sometimes more," replied Barnaby.

Delilah nearly choked when she heard this, "Thirty-five bob!"

"Yes, my mother loves me. She makes my father put my wages up. Father thinks that I'm a bit simple."

Regaining her composure, the woman moved an ornate wooden box from the chair next to her.

"Come and sit beside me and open one of those bottles. I'm sure that your mother won't mind."

Barnaby rarely got such an invitation so he obliged.

"What is in that box?" he asked as he released the bottle stopper.

"Oh, that's just my crystal ball," replied Delilah, "I dabbles a bit.

"You know, fortune telling and the like."

"Oh!" said Barnaby, like she was speaking Flemish.

Then he thought for a bit and then said, "What, like Gypsy women do at fairs?"

"I tells the customers that my mother was a Romany, but she weren't."

"Are you very good at it?" the young man enquired.

"Not really, but it don't really matter with my sort of customer."

A brief silence ensued while Barnaby took all this in.

Then he asked, "Would your husband like some ginger beer?"

"I can't really say, he died last month," laughed Delilah.

She went on, "That's why I've moved back here.

"We was living in Portsmouth but I never liked the shithole, too many sailors.

"I was born near here so I thought I'd move back this way."

"Was your husband a sailor?" asked Barnaby.

"Oh, no. Not him."

"What did he do then?"

"Well, mostly he would find men and bring them back to the house so that I could tell their fortunes for a fee," laughed Delilah.

"Other times, he would help people with their investments. He always had some scheme or other that he persuaded folk to give him money for. None of them ever came off," she added.

"It was this work that he died from."

"What, some sort of an accident?" suggested Barnaby.

"Yes, he slipped and fell onto a dagger. They found him in the harbour with it sticking out of his back."

"Oh, that was unfortunate," said Barnaby, "do you miss him?"

"In a funny way, I do," replied Delilah, "a woman needs a husband in these dangerous times. I suppose that I shall have to find another."

Again Barnaby thought about what had been said.

Finally he came out with, "I'm not married. I could be your husband."

It occurred to Delilah that the fish don't usually leap into the basket so this could be an opportunity.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Twenty-one," he replied.

"If you asked me, I could consider it," she said, coyly.

"Will you marry me?" asked Barnaby.

"Oh, go on then. There is a notary across the street. We could go straight there. You will need to make a promise in front of him."

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

"But I know Barnaby, he isn't capable," said the notary.

"He's twenty-one."

"Yes but he really isn't capable," reiterated Mr Knobes.

"Is he a verified lunatic?" asked Delilah.

"Well, no."

"He wants to make a promise and I want to accept his promise. All you have to do is take his shilling and note down the promise."

"Is this correct, Barnaby?" asked Mr Knobes.

"Yes, it is," said the young man.

"This 'lady' is fifteen years older than you. Do you want me to send for your parents?"

"No, don't do that. Father will shout.

"Please just make the writing thing."

"If you insist," said the notary, shaking his head, "my clerk will witness it."

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

His father did shout and his mother cried.

Barnaby Barnaby had been brought up properly and he believed that a promise was a promise. Delilah agreed, especially if it was written down and sealed legally.

Mr and Mrs Barnaby spoke with their solicitor. He felt that challenging the case in court would be costly and fruitless. Far better, he said, to allow the marriage to go ahead with the assurance that Barnaby would receive no additional financial help other than his wages. Once she realised that they had to live on the wages of an Errand Boy, Delilah might agree to a dissolvement of the marriage with a minimal financial inducement.

Privately, the solicitor joked with Mr Barnaby that living with an older woman could make a man of young Barnaby.

Delilah foresaw a different future ahead. She believed that his mother would not allow her son to live in distress and would give him all the money he needed. Or, better still, his parents would soon die and leave Barnaby everything.

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

So, they wed and Barnaby moved into her little house a few streets away from the shop.

On the wedding night Delilah said, "Barnaby have you tupped a woman before?"

He replied, "Mother said that they were accidents that shouldn't have happened and I was never ever allowed to tell anyone about it. So I'm not telling you."

Barnaby proved to be a most enthusiastic and naturally endowed lover so Delilah was not disappointed. She had plenty of time to teach him subtlety later.

On Monday morning, Delilah informed her new husband, "As we only have your wages to live on at the moment, I will be carrying on with my fortune telling. You will be at work while I do it. I don't like to be disturbed so don't ever come home during the day.

"Obviously, I will expect you to bring home some spare groceries when you finish work."

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

Barnaby placed a bag of provisions on the table. Somehow they were not what Delilah had hoped for.

"Did you have many customers today?" asked Barnaby.

"Three or four," said Delilah.

"Mother says that she has some lady friends who would like their fortunes told."

"Oh, I only do gentlemen. They will believe anything," answered Delilah.

"What's for supper?" said her husband.

"Oh, I'm not hungry, I ate at lunchtime. Help yourself to anything from that bag on the table," replied his wife.

Barnaby went to bed with an empty stomach, something he'd never done in his whole life. Still, Delilah did teach him some subtleties, so he thought that it was worth it.

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

The next day was much the same. Barnaby was simple but not so simple that he neglected to put only foodstuff in the bag this time.

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

Weeks passed. A pattern emerged. Barnaby came home each evening to find no food waiting for him and the house not cleaned. As well as his wages, Delilah always seemed to have additional money to spend on herself while still complaining that Barnaby didn't earn enough.

If Barnaby hadn't been treated to a wonderland of passion each night he would have been unhappy.

Clutching his bag of provisions, Barnaby returned at the end of his day's work. He went to place the bag on the table as usual but this time he couldn't. The reason for this was that Delilah occupied most of it. She was slumped over one end with her arms secured with ropes which were tied to the opposite table legs. To add to the novelty of the situation her skirt was thrown up over her back revealing her plump lilywhite backside.

"Why are you doing that?" enquired Barnaby, thinking the whole thing a little strange.

Delilah replied, "Ah, today would have been my late husband's birthday. Each year, as a treat you understand, he would tie me in this position and tupp me.

"To honour his memory, I have tied myself up like this."

"How did you manage to throw your skirt up so high over your back?" asked Barnaby, neglecting to ask how she had tied herself to the table legs.

"Ah now, as I was laying here a strong wind blew through the house and lifted my skirt. It became obvious that it was the ghost of my late husband when I received a spectral rumping from behind," stated Delilah.

"Be a good husband and untie me, will you?" she added.

Barnaby thought for a moment and then said. "It was my birthday yesterday and you didn't buy me a present. As your husband liked it so much, perhaps I could tupp you as you are?"

"Go ahead, but could you make it quick as it is painful being tied like this," she agreed.

Barnaby tupped her. He didn't take as long as he would have liked but it was longer than Delilah had expected.

"I don't know much about the world of ghosts and spirits but he appears to have left you full of sticky ghostly gunk," said Barnaby as he fastened his breeches and proceeded to untie his wife.

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

Within the following week, Barnaby was delivering an excotic type of fruit called a 'watermelon' to a customer. He had cause to take a shortcut down the Back Lane that passed behind his home. It occurred to him that if he popped in while Delilah was preparing her lunch she may feed him too and, if she were in the mood, he might get to fuck her as well.

He went through the back gate and into the yard. As he entered the scullery that adjoined the main room he heard voices. Thinking that he could be in trouble if he burst in while Delilah was fortune telling, he froze.

Barnaby had only a faint idea about fortune telling but he was curious, he would have loved to have seen what the crystal ball looked like. He put the watermelon under one arm, squinted and peered through a crack between the door and the door frame.

He wondered why his wife needed to be naked to read a crystal ball. Not only that but he wondered why the person having his fortune told had to be naked too. Even more than that he wondered why the man who was having his fortune told was Mr Quince, his parent's solicitor. Finally, he wondered why he couldn't see any sign of the famous crystal ball.

Barnaby decided that the only way to understand what was occurring was to keep watching.

Delilah was sitting on a dining room chair, the very chair that she had been using when Barnaby had first encountered her. Quince was standing before her. His cock was stiff. Very stiff.

Barnaby couldn't help thinking that it wasn't a very large cock. This could be because the only other stiff dick that he had ever seen was his own.

What he thought was big was the old gent's bollocks. Well, not only big but dangly.

Delilah took a long leather thong and pulled it through her hands several times. She then tied one end of it very tightly around the top of Quince's ball sack. She then got up and made him sit on the very edge of her chair.

Taking the long end of the thong, she secured it to the stretcher under the chair.

Barnaby felt that the learned gentleman would surely cry out at the indignity of his treatment but he didn't.

Using a second thong, Delilah fastened Quince's hands behind his back. She turned around, bent forward and waggled her creamy fat arse in front of Mr Quince.

Barnaby thought that these fortune telling rituals were more complicated than he had imagined.

His wife backed herself onto the cock of the bound and tethered lawyer. She lowered herself gently until she felt the leather binding against her. Delilah remained motionless for a few moments. Then she lifted and dropped.

Barnaby realised that she was tupping herself using Mr Quince's prick. He knew that this was against nature; it was the man's job to do the tupping. This thought made his cock enlarge. The thought that it was his wife who was being so unnatural made it become rigid.

Delilah rose and fell with a steady rhythm. Quince would have liked to thrust up to meet her downward movement but his bollocks were securely tied to the chair. He found the mixture of pleasure and pain delicious. He wondered if Mrs Quince could be persuaded to play the trollop like this but thought that he would rather not face her wrath if she thought it was a bad idea.

It was a shock when Barnaby became aware that he found it strangely exciting to watch his wife acting as a harlot. He needed to tupp her but she was rather busy. But he needed to stop his cock aching.

With his thumb, Barnaby pressed a hole into the side of the watermelon. Part of the skin caved inwards. He released his prick from captivity and, holding the fruit in front of him, pushed it into the soft red flesh.

It felt yielding and moist.

Matching his thrusts to the up and down actions of his wife, he fucked the watermelon.

Now, Delilah increased her pace. Quince still tried to meet her soft buttocks on the downstrokes, with the inevitable tugging on his conkers. Barnaby squelched away.

Both men spunked at the same time.

The younger man put down his fruity lover. Mrs Barnaby climbed off her customer. The older man's cock still twitched and dribbled.

Barnaby Barnaby returned his tackle to his breeches as Delilah untied the solicitor.

"How much do I owe you?" enquired Mr Quince.

"For special services, two bob," replied Delilah.

Quince said, "Two shillings well spent."

Barnaby picked up the watermelon and retreated silently through the scullery door.

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

"How on earth did you manage to drop it? They cost the earth. How would you like it if I stopped it from your wages?" scolded Mrs Barnaby.

Barnaby replied, "Perhaps you should. It might teach me a lesson. You could tell Delilah that she will have to tell more fortunes to pay you back."

Sadly Barnaby knew that his mother would do no such thing. But it was a pleasant thought nevertheless.

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

After that Barnaby often crept home during the day in the hope of watching his wife telling some gentleman's fortune. He was usually rewarded. Barnaby soon learned to leave his stiff cock unfulfilled. It was far more exciting to wait for the evening and reimagine the whole thing while he fucked his Delilah.

A grey and damp Tuesday lunchtime. Barnaby silently entered the scullery. He could hear voices so his cock twitched in anticipation.

As well as Delilah's, he thought he recognised a second voice. He couldn't be sure so he took his usual viewing position.

He moved his head left and right until he could fully see Delilah. She was flopped over the table. Her arms were stretched out in front of her and each was secured to the far table legs with ropes.

With her skirt thrown up over her back, her creamy lilywhite bum was on full display.