Nomansland Ch. 04

It was a cold, crisp day and the mist from the night before still lingered. John decided to use today to familiarise himself with his surroundings.

As he had thought, the woods surrounding Mrs. Cook's house were dense, but he found a path that led to scrubby heathland. The wilderness was intoxicating, a new, marvellous sight in each direction. He wandered far, drinking it in until noon when he realised that he was hungry and entirely lost.

Scanning the horizon, he thought he saw what might be a church tower so he headed that way. He was relieved and delighted to find a quaint, picture postcard village. There were green stickers in every front window and John saw net curtains twitching as he walked down the village's only road.

A figure emerged from the last house and strode to meet him. She was wearing combat trousers that would have hung loose on most people but her thick thighs stretched the fabric taut. Her crop top didn't quite conceal her huge breasts and beneath them her midriff bulged slightly over her waistband. Her eyes looked enormous, magnified by the thick lenses of her spectacles. John smiled a greeting, but it was not returned.

"Good morning! I wonder if I could... ARGH!" he said.

An unseen assailant expertly caught John in an armlock, and it felt like his arm was going to break.

"Good work Bren!" bellowed crop-top, "Let's bring him in for questioning."

"Roger that Trace!" said Bren (another female by the sound of her). At the mention of the word 'Roger', the two of them laughed like drains.

"Just a... OOOWW!"

"Shut it pervert!" said Tracey as Brenda tightened her grip making John's eyes water.

Tracey motioned John forward and he did as he was told. They marched him back to Tracey's house and slammed the door emphatically.

"I suppose you think you're pretty tough, intimidating us little old ladies, don't you?" Tracey asked.

John resisted the temptation to give a smart answer when Brenda revealed her face. They were both in their fifties at least. Brenda was taller than Tracey and thick set but there was not an ounce of fat on her.

"Strip search him," said Tracey, it seemed to John loud enough for the rest of the street to hear.

"Really?" he asked.

They ignored him as they tore at his clothes. He was naked in seconds and Brenda pushed him against the wall.

"That looks like a dangerous weapon," said Tracey slipping her hand down the front of her trousers. "See if it's loaded Bren."

Brenda spat on the palm of her hand then wrapped her calloused fingers around John's cock. Though her skin was rough, she had a deft touch and his dick stiffened.

"You dirty fucking bastard! Young lad like you, taking advantage of us two old dears," said Tracey as her fingers worked inside her knickers. "We should lock you up and throw away the key! It's lucky for you that this neighbourhood watch operates a community service scheme. I think you need to show Brenda a bit of contrition, don't you?"

Brenda had stopped wanking John and was stripping off. She lay back on a sofa wearing just an impatient expression and spread her muscular legs wide. Tentatively, John knelt in front and leant forward a little which was all the invitation Brenda needed to grab the back of his head and shove her pussy in his face. Her growling told him that he'd got that right.

Brenda thrust rhythmically while John worked some magic with his tongue. Tracey had dropped her combats and reclined on the other sofa, her fingers squelching in and out as she watched the action. Still fingering herself she picked up a TV remote and flicked through the channels before settling on a quiz show. John mumbled a complaint, but Brenda held him tightly in place.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm trying to listen," she said.

The two of them began shouting guessed answers at the TV in between Brenda's moans and Tracey's ear-splitting grunts.

"Arsehole!" shouted Brenda. What kind of quiz were they watching? It was difficult to tell with Brenda's thighs muffling the sound.

"Are you fucking deaf or just stupid?" asked Tracey. "She asked you to lick her fucking arse didn't she? Show some fucking manners you randy twat."

John didn't have a great deal of choice in the matter. Brenda tilted her pelvis and used her vice-like grip to push his face further down.

"Filthy fucker is sticking his fucking tongue in my ringpiece now Trace! Aaaaaaah!"

"Nothing surprises me about that generation any more Bren," said Tracey shaking her head and sighing theatrically.

As the quiz approached its denouement, Brenda adjusted herself again so that her pussy was getting the attention, clenched John's face tight between her thighs and increased the pace of her grinding.

"That's. It. Stick. Your. Fuck-ing. Tongue. All. The. Way. In! Uuuuuuurgh!"

On that last syllable, an enormous tremor shook her body and, at last John was released. He gasped in the pot pourri scented air and massaged his aching neck for a moment before Brenda cuffed him hard on the back of his head.

"Get out of the fucking way nobhead, I can't see a fucking thing," she said. "Go and spunk in Tracey's face."

Tracey had removed the rest of her clothes now to reveal a pair of enormous saggy tits. At Brenda's suggestion, she stood and led John by the dick towards her sofa and began wanking him off.

Brenda took control of the TV and flicked over to "Cash in the Attic".

Tracey's fingers were still wet with her juices and her hand glided easily up and down John's shaft. Despite most of her attention being on the television, her hand worked him expertly and she occasionally teased his bell end with her tongue. She felt his cock begin to swell and turned to give him her full attention, beating away at him, her big eyes wide in anticipation of cum.

Just when he thought she couldn't move her hand any faster, Tracey upped the pace again and cupped his balls with the other.

"Just look at the detail!" an antique expert was saying on the telly, "And if I just press here..."

As they said this, Tracey shoved a finger up John's arse. He had been teetering on the edge of orgasm for a while and the surprise sent him sailing over. He twitched and shot a thick blast of cum against her forehead. The next spurt hit the bridge of Tracey's glasses, dislodging them, then one final squirt just missed her open mouth and splashed on her chin. As he watched his gloopy mess slowly sliding down Tracey's face, they heard a key in the door and the squeak of its hinges as it opened.

"Hi mum!" called a voice.

John looked to Tracey in panic. Before any of them could do anything, Tracey's daughter popped her head in. She looked to be in her early forties and was wearing a skirt suit. Thick trails of spunk were dangling from her mum's nose, chin and glasses.

"Oh! Hi darling, I wasn't expecting you home so soon."

"I can see that!"

"Brenda and I were just helping with the reform of this young offender."

"Hi Lydia, you alright?" asked Brenda getting dressed again.

"Honestly mum, you work way too hard. You're a saint! Let me give you some help with that," she said unzipping her skirt. She casually discarded her knickers, braced herself against the end of a sofa, stood with her legs splayed and stuck her bum out.

Brenda went to answer a knock at the door and John overheard the conversation.

"We saw the trespasser and it sounded like Tracey was in distress, so we thought we'd better come and help!"

"Thanks ladies, he's a nasty one alright. Only went and stuck his tongue up my arse, didn't he?"

There were some flustered but excitable gasps.

"Oh my!"

"Mercy!"

"I'll text you when Lydia has finished her reforms."