Grace and Favors; Or...

Grace and Favors

Or, Are You Being Served Again, Sexually?

One day at Millstone Manner:

"Mr. Humphries, are you free?"

"I'm free," toned in Mr. Humphries in reply to Mavis' question.

"Would you please give me some help in the barn?" Mavis said.

"I'd be delighted."

"Did you sleep well last night?" she asked him as they walked to the barn. "You tossed and turned all night long. I've never seen you so aroused."

"Well Mavis," he replied, "I had a dream that I was a railroad train, and I was being robbed by Jesse James. He climbed on board my caboose, pulled out his gun, and rifled through my baggage compartment. Before I could get up a good head of steam he jumped off and rode away on his steed."

"Isn't that just like a man?" Mavis replied

"Yes, quite."

"It must have been just awful," she said.

"Well, it wasn't so bad, Mavis. Actually I was surprised that he had such soft hands."

Mavis and Mr. Humphries walked across the yard and into the barn. Mr. Humphries was aware that Mavis had been a little sweet on him, and it didn't go unnoticed by the other pensioners. The fact that they shared a bed – for warmth of course – did not make things any easier for him. Mr. Humphries was trying hard to adjust to country ways.

"Well Mavis, what can I do for you out here?" he said.

"Well, for starters, you can give me the big cock over by the henhouse."

"I don't know Mavis. I'm simply no good with birds. Whenever I try to pick one up it always starts fighting and I get a little prick from its little beak."

"No, Mr. Humphries. When I say I want you to give me the big cock over by the henhouse, I don't mean to hand me the rooster."

"You don't?"

"No, certainly not. I mean take me over to the henhouse and give me a right shag."

"Mavis, really," Mr. Humphries said in a near state of shock.

"Yes really, Mr. Humphries," Mavis replied. "And don't tell me that you're no good picking up birds. I'll bet you've had plenty of experience."

Mr. Humphries thought for a moment. "Well, there was that one time in Soho," he said.

"Did you see someone you liked?" she inquired.

"Yes," he smiled. "Imagine long black hair, big brown eyes, and red pouty lips."

"She sounds beautiful."

"Well, it wasn't exactly a she," he said. "Anyway, I got a little prick from that bird, too."

"Did it hurt much?" she asked with concern.

"No. In fact it was so small I hardly felt anything."

Mavis reached down and grabbed Mr. Humphries by the crotch. "Oh, Mr. Humphries, don't you feel what I feel."

"Ouch. Only when I shower." He squirmed in an attempt to get away, but Mavis, the farmer's daughter, was too strong for him. They tussled and fell into a pile of hay in the barn. Mavis landed on top of him and straddled his body with her legs.

"Take me, Mr. Humphries. Take me. Take me."

"Alright, where would you like to go? If you get up I think I can call a cab from the phone in the house."

Mavis ripped open his shirt. "Oh, Mr. Humphries, I just can't control myself any longer. I'm absolutely wild for you."

"I can see that," he said.

Mavis ripped down his trousers. "Mr. Humphries, I need what you've got."

"Well," he said, "if you're not more careful with my trousers, I'm not going to have it much longer."

"Don't lie to me, Mr. Humphries," she licked her lips. "I'll bet that you can have it longer than most men. And fatter, too."

"Yes," he said, "but a gentleman doesn't like to brag."

Mavis reached down and grabbed poor Wilberforce by the groin and started pulling on his member like it was a cow's udder.

"Ouch. Mavis, you're pulling on me like a cow's udder."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'd never mean to hurt you, Mr. Humphries."

"I know Mavis, and it's not that it hurts much. It's just that I'm not used to this type of attention from a young woman like yourself. Especially one with such a strong grip."

"Oh, that," she said. "Actually I've had a lot of experience at pulling the naughty bits."

"Really?" he asked. "Do tell."

"Yes, well you know that big bull out in the field?"

"Yes, what about it?" he asked.

"Well, that bull is kind of funny. He doesn't pay much attention to the girl cows," she said as she rubbed her hand up and down his naughty bits. "In fact he doesn't seem to pay much attention to other bulls."

"I'd wondered why I always saw him sitting on the fence."

"Anyway, it's my job to go out to the bull and get a sample for the cows," she hinted. "It's the only way we'll ever get new calfs."

"I certainly hope you're not planning on using the same turkey baster at Christmas."

"Oh, now Mr. Humphries, don't be that way," she smiled.

"I'm neither one way nor the other," he said. "Now I don't know if I can quite get used to your sampling me the way you sample the bull."

Mavis squeezed Mr. Humphries between her legs. "Well, you'd better get used to it. Because I plan on getting a nice big sample for myself." With that she slid straight down and buried his member deep within her.

"Oh, Mavis. Oh. Oh."

"Yes, Mr. Humphries, what is it?"

"I think that the cock is about to crow."

Meanwhile, near the stables:

"Good morning, Captain Peacock," said Miss Lovelock.

"Ah. Good morning, Jessica. My, don't you look radiant this morning."

"Why thank-you, Captain Peacock. And might I say that you look simply dashing this morning."

"Oh, thank-you," he replied proud as a peacock showing his colors.

"Yes, you look very David Niven-ish, especially your moustache."

"Funny you should say that," he brushed his moustache with his fingers. "The resemblance has been mentioned from time to time."

"Frankly, with all your exploits in the desert, it's funny the comparison isn't made with Lawrence of Arabia," she flirted with him.

"Well, now that you mention it, one could draw some comparisons between Lawrence and my exploits under Monty."

"Yes, quite. Hand to hand combat with Rommel sounds so exciting and adventurous. You must have had a marvelous unit."

"Indeed," he replied. "I still do."

"I'd love to see it sometime," she said.

"Well, I think that can be arranged," he said with a lecherous grin across his face.

Jessica picked up on the insinuation. "Captain Peacock, I was wondering if you might accompany me to the stables?" she said.

"Why, certainly."

They entered the stables where Jessica Lovelock kept the horses that Mr. Grace had bequeathed to her in his will.

"Captain Peacock, would you help me with something?" she asked.

"It would be a pleasure to help you with anything, Jessica. What may I do for you?"

"Well, I'd love it if you'd saddle up and take me for a ride."

"Oh, well," he said dejectedly. "I might be able to help you get saddled on your horse, but I'm afraid that any riding is out of the question for me. I get saddle sores quite easily. A little problem that I developed during the war."

"Captain Peacock, you misunderstood. When I said I wanted you to saddle up and take me for a ride, I didn't mean that I wanted to go for a ride on a horse."

"You didn't?" he asked.

"No, I meant that I wanted to saddle up and ride you, you magnificent stallion."

"Why Jessica, whatever do you mean?" he grinned.

"What I mean is I want to find out if the great desert soldier is any good at going into the bush as well," she answered. With that she grabbed Captain Peacock with authority, pulled him close to her, grabbed him by the backside, and planted a kiss on his lips.

"My, this is all quite so unexpected," he said when he could catch a breath.

"Come on now, Stephen. You must have known that you were driving me wild with all your tales of heroism," she smiled. "There is only so much a girl can take."

"Really?" he asked.

"Why of course, darling. And I plan on taking everything you have to give." Jessica then ripped his shirt open and wrapped her mouth around his nipple.

"Oh Jessica, don't do that."

"Do you want me to stop, darling?"

"No, I want you do the other one first," he said, and she complied. "Ah, that's much nicer."

Jessica sucked on Captain Peacock's nipple while pulling down the zipper to his trousers, but the zipper got stuck half way down.

"Damn Grace Brothers pants," he complained.

"Yes, the zipper seems to be stuck."

"Not only that," he continued, "they always ride up with wear."

"Don't worry darling. Where there's a will there's a way."

"And what way do you suggest?" he smiled.

Jessica grabbed the pants by either side of the zipper and ripped them apart, and down his legs. Stephen Peacock stood there in his stocking garters and a bulge showing through his Y-fronts.

"Well now," said Jessica, "it would seem the old soldier has risen to the occasion."

Captain Peacock beamed with pride.

Jessica dropped to her knees and wrapped her lips around the Captain's pride.

"Dear me," he said. "You have quite a talent."

"Do you really think so, Captain Peacock?" she asked.

"Absolutely, you're quite effective at bringing the company to attention."

"How so?" she asked.

"I've never known anyone who could blow the bugle quite the way you do."

"Well now," Jessica said as she admired his rigidity. "It would seem that the company is ready for a long march into the bush."

"Indeed, it would seem so," he said.

"Well, we certainly don't want to keep the unit waiting, do we?" she said with a come hither stare.

"In fact," said Captain Peacock, "I think I'll command the company to march in double time."

They rolled into the hay. Miss Lovelock pulled down her knickers then lifted her shapely legs into the air. "Let the invasion begin."

The Captain's company followed his lead and plunged in headlong.

"That's funny," he said.

"What is, darling?"

"Well, I couldn't help but notice that your bush has been deforested."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen:

"Halo, Mrs. Slocombe," Maurice Moultard growled as he limped into the room. "I was wonderin' if you've seen Mavis. I need 'er 'elp with them pigs. They needs to be taken to market."

Mrs. Slocombe looked at Moultard with distaste. "Well, I was passing by the barn earlier," she said, "and I heard her and Mr. Humphries say something about milking the cow's udders."

"That girl," he bellowed, "I'll give 'er the strap, I will. That cow don't need no milking yet."

"Mr. Moultard, must you be so loud?" replied Mrs. Slocombe. "It's quite upsetting to my pussy."

"Sorry, Mrs. Slocombe. I didn't mean to scare your cat."

"No, no, you daft fool. When I said that your yelling is upsetting to my pussy, I didn't mean that you scared my Tiddles."

"You didn't?" he asked, bewildered.

"No, what I meant is that booming voice of yours brings back memories that I would rather repress, but my knickers get all wet anyway."

"Yeah, heh heh heh," he laughed with a stupid looking grin across his face. "We sure had some memr'ble times long ago, didn't we Rachel?"

"Mr. Moultard, I will thank you not to address me by my first name. We are not currently on familiar terms."

"Well, wees been familiar enough, if you know whats I means. You was just a land girl, and I was a tractor hand. And give you a hand I did. Didn't I, Rachel?"

"Mr. Moultard, I insist that you address me as Mrs. Slocombe," she said with a stern glare.

"Very well, Mrs. Slocombe," he said sarcastically. "Ain't we the mistress of the 'ouse this mornin'."

"Indeed, I might be as far as you are concerned, you ridiculous little man. In fact, I think you need a little lesson in obeying orders. Come over here and get down on your knees," she commanded.

Moultard complied with her order and took a full minute getting down to his knees.

"What do you wants me down 'ere for?" he grumbled.

"I want you down there to look for my pussy."

"Oh, okay." And with that Moultard lifted Mrs. Slocombe's housedress and peered directly at her nether region.

"Mr. Moultard, what are you doing?"

"I'm looking for your pussy, Mrs. Slocombe. Just like youse said."

"Mr. Moultard, I wanted you to look under the table for my Tiddles."

"Oh, well you should have said so."

"Well, I'm saying so now. Now get down on all fours and look for my pussy."

"Do you mean Tiddles?"

"Well, I did. However as long as you're down there you might as well make yourself useful," she said.

"How so?" he asked.

"Try looking for my pussy under here." And with that, she hiked up her housedress and presented him with her Grace brothers under garments.

"Oh, I gets it," he said. "You want me to stick me snout in the trough." And suddenly Maurice Moultard buried his face between her legs.

"Oh Maurice, I think you need a shave."

"I could say the same fer you. If you wants, I can gets the sheep shearing shears, and…"

"That'll be enough of that talk Mr. Moultard. Now get down there and get back to work." She slapped him across the face.

Moultard replied demurely. "Okay, Mrs. Slocombe." And he went back down to the trough and stuck his snout in deep.

Mrs. Slocombe squirmed around on the kitchen chair. "Oh, my. That is simply wonderful. It reminds me of the time that me and Mrs. Axelby were on holiday in Madrid and we each had a full body cavity search at Customs by a Spaniard official with leather gloves," she reminisced. "That reminds me, I must start looking at holiday brochures."

"Holiday? You don't needs to take no holidays," Moultard said. "You just needs to ring the dinner bell and I'll come over and..."

"Mr. Moultard, I will thank you to speak only when spoken to. And I am unanimous in that."

Mrs. Slocombe grabbed Moultard by the hair and shoved his head back into place and clamped her legs around his head as she continued squirming on the kitchen chair.

"I'll have to send Mrs. Axelby a telegram."

Meanwhile, in the parlor:

"Miss Brahms, have you seen any of the others this morning?" Mr. Rumbold asked Shirley Brahms.

"Well, near as I can figure Mr. 'umphries and Mavis is milking the cow, Captain Peacock and Miss Lovelock is riding the horses, and Mr. Moultard is looking for Mrs. Slocombe's pussy in the kitchen."

"Oh dear me," he said with a worried tone. "We have that American group coming from San Francisco this afternoon, and I wanted us to meet to get things ready for their visit."

"Well, why don't you and me go up to the rooms and play chambermaid until the others come back?" she said.

"Why Miss Brahms, certainly that's not some sort of veiled sexual innuendo," he said.

"No, no, Mr. Rumbold you misunderstood."

"I did?" he said.

"Yes, you did," she replied. "When I said that you and me should go up and play chambermaid I meant that you could give me a 'and changing the linens on the bed."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Whatever was I thinking?"

"I don't know what you were thinking, Jug Ears."

"Now Miss Brahms, there is no need for personal vilifications such as that one."

"Well, 'ave you looked at yourself in the mirror lately, without it breaking?" She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him over to the mirror on the wall. "Just look at yourself. They's like 'andles, they is."

"Handles?"

"Yes," she continued, "'andles. As a matter of fact I'd bet that they'd come in 'andy."

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked.

"Just that if a bird were of a mind she could 'old you in place while you 'ave a nosh."

"Hold in place? Have a nosh? Whatever are you talking about, Miss Brahms? This is all quite confusing."

"What I'm talking about is this." She grabbed him by the earlobes and mercilessly pulled him down to the floor. Miss Brahms jumped on top of him and straddled his head with her legs, lowering herself onto poor old Cuthbert Rumbold's face.

"'ere, 'ave a nosh on this," she commanded, and proceeded to hold him by the ears while pumping up and down on top of him.

"Oh dear. Miss Brahms. Stop that, stop that at once," he pleaded with her. I'll not have you undermine my authority.

"Always giving orders, you is. Well now it's time for you to take a few yourself. Let's see if I can find that executive authority you're always throwing around. I think you keep it stashed in 'ere."

Miss Brahms reached back into Cuthbert's trousers and pulled out all of Mr. Rumbold's executive authority. She began pulling on it and pulling on it until his authority began to grow.

"My, that is some authority you 'ave, isn't it. I've never seen so much authority in me life. I think maybe I'll 'ave to violate your authority."

"Miss Brahms, I must insist that you stop that at once. And I've had about enough of your lip," he hollered from below.

"Oh, you 'aven't even begun to get enough of my lip." She squatted down further and ran her knickers straight back into his face.

Shirley then leaned forward and started giving Cuthbert's authority some of her lip. In fact, she gave him both of them. Between riding his bald head and challenging his authority, it wasn't long before Mr. Rumbold was about to lose his cool.

"Mith Brahmth," he said with a mouthful of knickers, "I muth inthitht that you thop thith at one-th, letht I blow my thop."

"What was that, Jug Ears?" She eased up on him a little.

"I said that I must insist that you stop this at once, lest I blow my top."

"Oooh, goody," she replied, "Blowing your top is just what I 'ad in mind." And she shoved her knickers back into his face.

"'Ow's this as a challenge to your authority?" she said. And with that she continued giving him lip until he couldn't hold back any longer. Cuthbert did indeed blow his top.

"Oooh, you really lost you're cool that time, didn't you?" she teased. "I'll bet you've 'ad it for a week."

"Miss Brahms, I'll have you know that I've blown my top many times before, and I shall do so many times in the future."

Shirley Brahms grabbed his executive power and started pulling it again and again, but to no avail.

"Well, it seems to me," said Miss Brahms, "that you've used up all your authority."

"You've all done very well."