tagMind ControlSuch Stuff Ch. 13

Such Stuff Ch. 13


Part 13

The Heartful Bodger

The soft squelching mud of the riverbank felt peculiar between Lizzie's naked toes but she was away from the odious Conrad, free to walk and think on her own. She walked carefully and after a time got used to the feel of the mud. It felt cool, given the warmth of the day, and she was not bothered by her feet get­ting dirty. It was a lovely walk. The river one side, the cool greenness of the wood the other and, whilst there was only a hint of a path, the going was not difficult. She had left the noise and laughter of the others far behind and all she could hear or see for a time was the natural sounds of the morning.

Ahead of her Lizzie gradually became aware of a strange sort of whirring noise. Not a constant noise but one that regularly died away and then came back again. She could not see what it was through the trees but she thought it must be quite close and, whilst she had been happily walking along the river bank quite naked, it now occurred to her that even though nudity seemed very normal in Conrad's world, assuming, that is, she wasn't simply dreaming and it was some sort of real world, perhaps it might not be so normal everywhere in it. She rather wished she was clothed but looking around her she could not at first see how she could clothe herself. After a while her eyes fell on some dock leaves and her nimble fingers were soon threading them onto a springy willow twig to form a sort of skirt. Tying it around herself it was, she thought, truly best described as a 'sort of skirt' as it was hardly long enough to be de­scribed as a skirt, even a miniskirt: a wide belt of leaves around her hips was all it was. The whirring noise stopped causing Lizzie to look up from her dress­making in concern but it soon started again. Whatever could it be?

Lizzie did not have to walk much further to find the answer to her ques­tion because, coming around a sharp bend in the river, she espied a man working in the wood and it was clearly him making the whirring noise. He was standing, facing Lizzie, at some sort of wooden contraption which seemed to be moving in a number of ways. Most obvious was a long pole slanting up from behind him with its end bouncing up and down above him on a rope at­tached to the machine. Another piece of wood right in front of him was rotat­ing and yet another piece of wood under his foot was going up and down. Com­ing closer Lizzie began to understand what this contraption was and the func­tion it performed. It was, as Lizzie later found out, a pole lathe upon which the man was turning a piece of wood. His foot moved a treadle, this pulled down on a cord wrapped around the work revolving it and at the same time pulling down on the long springy pole, perhaps twenty foot long and set at an angle across a frame. This pole bounced back upwards and pulled the cord up again, before the process was repeated. A clever machine to turn wood without the use of an engine or electric motor. Quiet, clean, simple and effective and used for hundreds of years in the forests.

The man looked up at Lizzie and laughed a particularly merry, carefree laugh. He was a tall muscular man with flowing locks of tightly curled yellow hair reaching to his shoulders and a short equally yellow beard. He was sim­ply dressed in a leather apron and was standing knee deep in wood shavings, not just standing in them but they were in and hanging from his hair as well as flying over his shoulder when he applied his gouge to the wood.

"Hello," said Lizzie, "who are you and what are you doing?"

The man took his foot from the treadle and the motion and noise stopped, "I'm Heartful and I'm doin' a bit o' bodging, missie."

Lizzie looked around. Not only were there Heartful and his machine but also there was a hut and all sorts of finished pieces of work. Stools, chairs, ta­bles, walking sticks and what appeared to be (Lizzie moved a little closer to them to check) and, yes, indeed were short rounded sticks. There was a com­mon theme to these rustic products - wherever possible and with all the legs for the chairs and tables there was ample opportunity, the ends were fash­ioned in the shape of a penis. Chairs with the uprights to the backs standing proud, the legs of the tables resting on bulbous acorn shaped feet, walking sticks curling round like a soft unerect penis might curl at rest or, in a differ­ent style, with upright tumescent handles to grasp. And then there were all the round sticks in all shapes and sizes and woods, Lizzie could easily see what those were: pale holly dildos, warm brown cherry dildos, darker brown oak dil­dos. Small ones, long ones, thick ones, surprisingly slim ones for what purpose Lizzie did not like to think. All the work, though, beautifully made.

"I'm a Bodger, see. I live in't woods and make things from what's around me in t' woods. I hew, I hedge, I coppice, I hurdle, I bodge." He smiled broadly. "Look, choose, try."

Lizzie sat on a chair and thought it very comfortable. It would have looked really cool in her room back home only, of course, her mother would hardly have approved at all of the penile shaping of the legs and arms. They were not subtle—there was no mistaking what they were. She thought how shocked her friend, Lotte, would be if Lizzie took her into her bedroom and she saw this chair. It was not good, though, to think of home. How was she to get home?

The tables were just as well made and perhaps she could have got away with a small one beside her bed as long as you didn't look at the ends of its legs. She got up and went to look at some little stools. They had rather odd bowed seats with holes in the middle of them. She sat down on one but it was not very comfortable.

Heartful began to laugh, "No missie, you sits t'other way, astride like!"

Lizzie got up and sat astride the stool—that was much more comfortable.

"Yes that's a right, what size are yer?"

Lizzie was puzzled by the question. What did the strange man with his leather apron mean? Her height, her dress size, her shoe size or what?

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you know? Surely you know? Haven't you had a fittin'? Where's me set of fittin' measures?"

Heartful went into his hut; a hut made of poles and canvas, and came out again with a box, a box which proved to contain a large number of dildos.

"Now you lie back, missie, and I'll fit yer." And before Lizzie really knew what was happening Heartful had pushed her backwards off the stool catch­ing her so she didn't hurt herself and laying her out on the soft ground with her thighs spread, her sex revealed beneath her belt of leaves, and he was pour­ing warm oil from a little bottle all over her sex. "That's t'make it all slippy like, just like when yer all 'roused." His big hand began to work the oil around Lizzie's sex and up into her. She didn't resist, it was rather pleasant lying back in the warm heat of the forest and have this big jolly man manipulate her sex, pull at her lips, tickle her clitoris and push his big thumb up into her—much better than have that odious Conrad playing with her. In a way she was happy to be doing this simply to spite him.

Heartful seemed to be enjoying his work, alternately smiling and whistling. Lizzie could not see if he was excited by what he was doing because the big leather apron did not reveal whether there was any sort of swelling be­hind.

"That'll do, now let's have a look." He bent his head close to Lizzie's sex and pulled her about a bit. "I'd say a number 8." Heartful picked up a dildo from his box and turned it upside down, "Nah, that's a number 7." He dropped it back in the box and picked up another. "Typical, thought I knew 'em by sight, this is a 8 1/2 but we may need that." He put it to one side and picked up another. "Ah, yep, that's t'one."

Lizzie felt the domed head of the item being pushed steadily into her, up and up, filling her, it was wiggled about a bit which felt good and Lizzie could feel her own moisture adding to the oil.

"Thar's a goodish fit but let's try that 8 1/2."

The first dildo was pulled out and the next pushed in, Lizzie felt even fuller and her thighs opened wider as the dildo was pulled backwards and for­wards. "Shall we try a 9, missie? There, what yer think then? An 8 1/2 or a 9?"

The 9 did feel a bit big so Lizzie said, "I'd like the 8 1/2 please."

"Very well, missie, and what depth do yer like, this deep, deeper like this or perhaps...?"

"Ooh, oh I, take it back please and I'll tell you when to stop. Oh, yes, slow­ly, mmm, stop!"

"So yer fittin's a 8 1/2—7, missie. I'll get one."

Heartful got up pulling the dildo out of Lizzie and went to his pile of dil­dos and began rummaging around. Lizzie lay there thinking this was all most peculiar. Were women normally fitted for such things? Were there shops that specialised in that—just like being fitted for a bra? She very much doubted it.

Heartful came back with a selection of three dildos. "They're all ash like yer stool but the bend's different. I 'ain't got sets o' measures with bends so yer'll have t' try these 8 1/2 -7s and see which ist' most comfy."

Lizzie at first wondered what Heartful meant by bends and then she saw the curvature of each dildo was different, the first almost straight, the next with a gentle bend and the third more like a banana. Heartful was once again bending over her sex and sticking his bits of shiny wood into her.

"That's t'first, that's t'second—slips nicely and this t'third with t' strong bend. What's yer think?"

"Second please."

Heartful took it and pushed it hard into the hole on the stool so it stuck up in the air obscenely. "Right, yer sit on that and ride."

Lizzie got herself up and sat back down carefully on the stool as she had done before. She now realised the hole had lined up perfectly with her vagina and given the oil and her own wetness the protruding ash dildo slipped easily in. It slid up into her until it was completely hidden and her thighs were rest­ing on the stool as before.

"Come on missie, ride!"

And Lizzie did, up and down the pole. It was a very odd thing to be doing in a forest with this strange man watching: but she felt very excited and, yes, she could imagine if she did have such a piece of furniture at home—but where on earth would she keep it?—she would definitely use it, a lot.

"That seems to fit right," said Heartful, "yer jus' make sure whilst I gets back t' work. Then yer can pay us."

The whirring sound began again as Lizzie rode her new stool, thighs mov­ing rhythmically and her hands playing with her breasts. It was a lovely thing to do in the woods in the sunshine, she forgot about Conrad, even forgot about Heartful watching her as she bounced contentedly towards orgasm.

After she had come, Lizzie sat on the stool with the dildo still inside her watching the Bodger at work, at the thin strips of wood flying into the air and over his shoulder. He seemed very happy and content in his task. The piece fin­ished, Heartful put down his gouge and turned back to Lizzie, "Ist alright then?"

She nodded and stood, the wooden dildo sliding wetly from her, she looked down at the stool as did Heartful, she had certainly made the dildo wet and the area of the seat around it was none too dry either.

"How shall I pay you, I've no money?" In fact Lizzie didn't have anything with her apart from her little belt or skirt of leaves and that was now looking a bit patchy where leaves had come adrift following her exertions

Heartful laughed "Jus' you undo this here bow holding me leather apron and you'll see."

The apron was held by long leather straps wound around his waist a cou­ple of times and tied in a simple knot, a bow, at the front. It was easy to undo and the apron fell to the ground revealing, as Lizzie expected to see, the bodger's cock rising hard from a bed of surprisingly yellow tight curls. Lizzie's fingers tickled it and stroked the tight curls. Like the rest of him shavings had somehow contrived to lodge in them to and Lizzie brushed a few away.

"Luckily I's got a 8 1/2—7 with a middlin' bend so that'll fit jus' right," laughed Heartful.

It was certainly a good-looking penis and Lizzie was not averse to playing with it or, if that was what Heartful wished to do, having it inside her. As she stroked the shaft Lizzie picked up one of the curly shavings that had so curled fully round so to make a circle, a ring of thin wood. She giggled as she dropped it over the upright penis head. It slid down the shaft to rest against the tight yellow curls. Lizzie found others and did it again and again. Heartful roared with laughter as his penis was gradually hidden by ring after ring of wood shavings until only the very tip of the penis showed its shiny ruddy purple colour above the tower of wood shavings.

"Very pretty missie but how's you goin' t' stimulate that?"

In answer Lizzie licked the very tip, the little eye at the peak of the cock and with her other hand lifted his substantial ball sack and massaged it in her hand. She kept tickling with the tip of her pink tongue until she was rewarded by the appearance of a little clear liquid that seeped out of the eye.

Heartful laughed and picked Lizzie up and carried her to his hut, his shav­ings enclosed penis wobbling in front of him as he walked. It was cool and dark inside and no sooner was she laid down than she felt the weight of Heart­ful on her, the brushing of his great yellow beard on her face as he kissed her and the touch of his now naked penis on her sex—the shavings no doubt scat­tered around the hut in one sweep of his hand.

Lizzie was still wet from her own exertions on the stool and Heartful slipped easily into her, her ankles locked over his back and her hands held his bottom cheeks as he began to move. His initial strokes were slow but purpose­ful. Lizzie was not sure she could reach orgasm again so soon but it was good lying there with this big attractive man on top of her. She wondered at herself. Only this morning she had awoken shocked and scared in Conrad's world, only yesterday she had been caught by Puck in the garden, yet here she was calmly allowing herself to be fucked by a stranger. What was coming of her? But of course it was not the odious Conrad—she certainly didn't want to fuck him again! Lizzie pushed up against Heartful as his action began to quicken, really this was rather good.

Lizzie had not expected to come again but she felt a rising desire accompa­nied by a further release of her own juice and clasped Heartful's buttocks hard­er—orgasm became an achievable object. Her tongue sought Heartful's as they worked together in the cool of the hut. At the first sensation of Heartful coming inside her Lizzie came, waves of pleasure through her body as she felt the spurting inside her, again and again. Payment made.

The penis softened within her as they lay there. "Well I's a better get back t'bodging, missie, can't lie here doin' nowt all day!"

By the time Lizzie got up the whirring sound had started up again. She blinked at the sunlight as she stepped out of the door of the hut. The sound stopped.

"I'll send the stool up t' house for yer."

With a wave, Heartful turned his attention to his lathe and so Lizzie con­tinued her walk back along the riverbank. She had not gone far when the boat­ing party caught up with her, it certainly was a happy, carefree group with lots of laughter and they all waved at Lizzie as they rowed past. She walked along a little further only to find around a turn in the river the path opened out onto a sward of green grass where the party had alighted and were spreading out a picnic. Lizzie, given her swim, walk and other exercise was quite hungry and she sat down with them in the sunshine enjoying sandwiches by the river.

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