Chesterbury Tales

It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.

The Host had told of a birthday orgy involving a current top film star, the Theatre Company Manager of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Director of how the 'wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team.

Chapter Nine: The Government Minister's tale: The Husband's Revenge

Following the tale of the Wife of Bath, Emma and Bill had left the other guests to their own devices, whilst they went up to Emma's bedroom.

'Don't worry,' he assured her. 'Group sex worship is about to begin in the lounge. Jake will take over my place as host and Gertie as hostess. Each of the men will fuck Gertie until they shoot over her face and breasts, watched by their wives, whilst they themselves are being fucked by Jake. So they'll be some time. Then they'll choose a partner to sleep with.'

'I've already chosen you,' Emma smiled.

Inside her bedroom, Emma switched on the bedside lamp. It illuminated the room with a warm glow. She turned to Bill and stood waiting for what might happen next. He smiled, came to her, took her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers in a friendly lingering kiss, his tongue pushing gently between her lips, running over them slowly and provocatively. She felt stiff and reserved at first, but his persistent tongue and roving hands started to unloosen her defence.

She began responding to his caresses, opening her mouth to take his exploring tongue which answered in a playful, unhurried way. His hands stroked her face with a tenderness which was both genuine and loving. Pressing her face more eagerly to his, Emma felt him open her gown, push the narrow straps off her shoulders so that it fell to her elbows, revealing her naked breasts.

Bill's hand groped for her stiffened nipples, pausing with admiration when it found them, jutting proudly on the peak of her breasts.

'Superb! Just like a pair of perfect rosebuds.' He looked down at the prominent features. 'You must let me photograph those buds. They are absolutely terrific!'

Emma laughed at his enthusiasm. She kissed him gratefully. No one had offered to photograph her nipples before, though they were admired by all who saw them. She was melting into the mood. Yes, she thought, I shall enjoy making love with this interesting man.

'Just leave off glorifying my nipples, Bill and try taking my gown off. Tthen you can admire the rest of me.'

He smiled at her happily. Her underwear was quickly stripped away, leaving nothing to obstruct him as he ran his hands softly down her whole body and over her thighs. Wrapping themselves round the pronounced nipples, the areola speckled with goose pimples, his lips suckled them with eagerness and delight. She felt the flutters inside her belly as her juices began flooding her vagina.

His hands roamed her smooth skin, eventually stroking lightly upwards the inside of her thighs to find her warm slippery groin. Sinking onto his knees, his thumbs carefully spread the sex lips to reveal her fleshy opening, now oozing with her honey. He nipped the little bud at the apex of the lips between his thumbs. Emma gave a pleasurable shudder.

'You were my nun,' he suddenly announced. 'Your body scent is distinctive. So attractive. I'd recognise it in a pig stye!'

Bill leaned forward to plant a kiss on the oozing lips, allowing the heady perfume of her body to filter into his nostrils, drinking in her fragrance, boosting his desire for her.

Closing her eyes with joy, Emma put her hands on his head pressing it into her groin with a light moan.

'Oh, Bill, darling. You are wonderfully gentle. Can you drag yourself away from down there, so that I can join in the fun. I want to see what I already had sunk inside me this afternoon.'

He stood and smiled at her. She sat on the side of the bed to remove his jacket and shirt with unhurried hands. 'We have all night. Why rush the pleasure,' she thought.

To her surprise, Emma found that his body was covered with fair hair. She had never seen such a hairy man! It was absolutely fascinating! His figure was taught and tanned with surprisingly large brown nipples jutting out from the silky growth. She nibbled them lightly between her lips before snaking her tongue down his torso to the navel.

She slid onto to her knees. Her fingers unfastened the waist band of his trousers to unzip his fly. Kneeling now in front of him, she slid his trousers down to the floor, placing a kiss on the hard bulge in his Y fronts. Stepping out of his trousers, Bill planted his legs apart to tease Emma with the prominent swollen bulge, only his Y fronts and socks remaining.

With concentrated attention, Emma hooked her thumbs into the waist band, carefully easing them over the top of his erection. And there it was in all it's glory!

She paused with his Y fronts across the tops of his thighs, to absorb the sight of his throbbing hard penis. Her mouth went dry. Emma's eyes were glued with rapt attention to the solid shaft of flesh protruding from the mass of fair hair.

'You're right, Bill. That is the wonderful penis I enjoyed as a nun! How marvellous! Fancy it being yours!'

Licking her parched lips, she lowered the Y fronts further, remembering being taken aback by his huge testicles, diverting her attention from the thick penis. She pushed the pants to his ankles, helping him to step out of them, then took the swaying penis in one hand and his mighty balls in the other, to studied its contours and run her fingers down the tracery of veins.

Pulling back the foreskin the threatening, shining mauve head was uncovered, already showing evidence of his arousal. It looked angry, as though frustrated in its search for a mate. Emma inhaled the musty tang of his maleness and the faint scent of his perspiration. At such times, Emma knew she was a cockaholic at heart. She was drunk with the desire for thick cock. But any cock? She wondered. All pricks are beautiful.

With a sudden bow of her head, Emma took the shaft and sank it fully into her mouth. She got a great deal of enjoyment from sucking prick. It gave her a sense of control over the dominating male part and most men adored giving in to her coaxing tongue. Bill's penis wasn't excessively long - perhaps a touch under the regulation six inches - but was thicker than average. It was not as thick as Jake's, however, so she was able to take him entirely into her mouth with relish.

At her mother's suggestion, Emma had practised the art of deep throat with various vegetables, fruit, and dildos before pushing them deep into her aching vagina. Now, she was able to encompass the entire length of most men's penises without discomfort.

Jake was an exception, and she thought Robert's might be as well, from what she'd seen of it. She tasted the salty flavour and delighted in her growing power over this omnipotent piece of human flesh. Her fingers ran through the hair on his chest and belly as she gobbled vigorously.

Enslaved by this exquisite treatment, Bill's eyes closed in rapture. He placed his hands on Emma's head as his buttocks flexed in rhythm to her sucking. The excitement within him grew, his loins thrusting in and out of her warm wet mouth until Emma felt them begin to tremble.

She lifted her mouth from the shaft, grasped it in her fists, squeezing it hard to prevent him coming too soon. As Bill's excitement died down, Emma spent a few more moments closely studying his penis. This magnificent tyrant of stiff flesh which made slaves of women, admiring the sheer sensual power of the mighty organ, glorying in its solid pride. Her brain became alive with images of huge erupting pricks, deluging her in their abundance of warm sperm.

Bill lifted her from her knees and lay her on the bed. He opened her thighs, caressed her wet furry vulva with his fingers, parting the swollen lips to reveal the puckered, pink entrance to her mysterious passage. Dipping his head between the thighs, Bill thrust his tongue as far as he could into the warm stickiness, running it over the lips and across the clitoris.

Now in a frenzy of lust, Emma was responding with groans and twitches of her loins to his tongue, washing around the whole vulva. It slithered in and out of her orifice, flicking at her clitoris. His hands were busy caressing her breasts, her waist, the cheeks of her bottom as she wallowed in her delightful lewdness.

'Bill, oh, Bill! You're marvellous,' she whispered through her gasps of excitement. 'You make me feel so desirable and wanton. Ahhhhrgh! Oohhhh!' she sighed. 'You'll have me coming in a minute! I want to lick your prick and balls. Please, Bill! Get over me!'

And Bill moved his legs until they straddled Emma's head, his huge hairy testicles suspended over her face. Sheer debauchery overcame her as she saw these mighty, hairy balls. She tried to get them into her mouth, but couldn't. She could only lick and nibble them, gently squeezing the plum-like objects.

Her other hand fondled the thick quivering shaft. Almost without warning, her loins unexpectedly flexed and jerked as she felt a rapid build up of tension in her clitoris. It was unstoppable. It burst over her, swamping Emma with emotional release, sweeping her along its crest. It surged through her body in huge waves of passion. With the rippling release came a strangled screech.

'Aarrrgh! I'm there! I've come already!' Bill already knew that!

'Wonderful darling, wonderful!' she cooed as a flood of emotion wept over her for the man who had given her this supreme fulfilment and joy. It was not just the usual flow of emotional gratitude she felt for a lover who had helped her to an exquisite orgasm, but an overwhelming, choking compassion for Bill. She wanted to crawl inside his warmth for protection.

Bill smiled to himself with relief. He knew that the first orgasm was often the most stubborn, particularly after holding it back, but thereafter it was plain sailing. He gave Emma's sticky vulva a gentle kiss before turning himself round so that he could lay on top of her, face to face. His mouth closed over hers in a long affectionate kiss. He felt a suffocating, overpowering affection for this lady.

He wanted her to be sexually satisfied and emotionally happy. Dammit! He wanted her to love him more than anyone else! Taking her face between his hands he looked searchingly into her eyes, saw the glitter of happiness in them as she returned his gaze. He kissed her with tender love and emotion. For the first time in his life, he felt unable to control his feelings. He was becoming emotionally unstable.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

Over breakfast, Emma and Bill had to take a few jocular comments from the other guests about how they were hurt at having been ignored the previous evening, and denied Emma's body and Bill's charms. But all had enjoyed a night of passion with a different partner, exploring new hills and valleys of the flesh. It was an invigorating experience for them all.

Julie was still smiling inwardly with satisfaction at the wonderful night spent in the arms of Jake. In two or more hours of pure uninhibited sex, they kissed, licked and fucked, each to the delight of the other, before falling asleep exhausted, with Jake's cock still embedded inside her vagina.

At breakfast, Julie, feeling more lively than she had any right, looked at Bill and Emma gazing at each other, sensing a touch of romance in the air, which added an extra dimension to their special week-end activity. It would be interesting to see how long Bill would be content with the one female. He was very much a rover at these events.

When the time came for morning coffee, after tables had been cleared, dishes washed and coffee served, and all had settled with their selected partner for the morning, it was Laurie's turn to tell his story.

Laurie was a Member of Parliament and a minister of state in the Ministry of Labour, with particular responsibilities for employment. Having reached the age of forty, he was well built, with thinning hair brushed straight back from the forehead. In fact, he was what everyone would expect a government minister to look like. Solid, serious and thoughtful.

How looks can deceive! He was anything but! Laurie had a strong appetite for sex and flirted with any woman who allowed him to - and some who didn't as well! Although slightly podgy and with a plump belly, he had good sturdy legs. His pride and joy was his penis which had a pronounced bend in the middle - shaped like a banana. This pronounced bend gave him the ability during intercourse of reaching places other cocks wouldn't reach, often stimulating his partner to shattering orgasms.

Laurie was proud of his ability and still had frequent, fulfilling sex with his wife Enid after ten years of marriage. They had first met at an official function in the City and took to each other straight away, and found a common appetite for sex. Laurie was but a junior minister in those days. A busy political life on his part, and business life on hers, kept them apart for many days at a time, and, although he fancied his twenty-eight year-old secretary - a small dainty woman of perfect shape not unlike his wife - he preferred to keep business and pleasure apart.

This morning, Laurie wore a Vyella check shirt and a woollen tie, diamond pattered socks and brown brogue shoes. The very picture of staid country gentleman, which he was not. His father had, in fact, been a clerical worker, and his mother a junior teacher. Before taking up a political carreer, he too, was an office worker.

After the usual preliminaries, there was a expectant pause, the guests waiting for him to start. Laurie looked thoughtful.

'I'm not sure that I should tell you this tale,' he explained. 'It's sexy alright, but has a violent twist to it. But, I suppose some sex is violent, isn't it?'

'Unfortunately, yes!' Robert agreed. 'But don't let that stop you. We're quite content to hear a more serious story.'

Laurie smiled. 'Alright. It's a story about a woman called Brenda.'

This was Laurie's tale.

Some years ago now, she was my secretary for a short time. She was a plain woman, heavily built with wide hefty hips and untidy hair. I suppose had she tried, she could have looked more attractive.

She dressed 'sensibly' as they say, which in her case meant a tweed skirt and jumper. She was always in a hurry. She moved with her body leaning slightly forward in an aggressive way. She strode out, files tucked under her arm. She never paused to relax, chat or smile. In fact she always wore a worried look.

Brenda was the sort of person who could not look you straight in the eye. I had chosen her from the amongst the applicants for the job partly because she was not too attractive. A young, pretty secretary could be distracting, particularly in an office populated by randy young men - though all bar one of them married! And my previous secretary, a good-looking lady, had managed to get a crush on me, which had caused some problems, but that's another story.

My choice for her replacement wasn't a very popular one with the rest of the staff and I took some stick from my colleagues. However, she was a gem of a worker, asking no favours and getting on with the job. Perhaps because she had not expected to be offered the job, Brenda was desperate to please. Her work was always first-class.

She never left the office for home until all her work was complete and letters put into the post box. Nothing was left over for the next morning, except perhaps a bit of filing. It was sad to see her total lack of self esteem and I would frequently praise her work to try to give her a bit of confidence. I suggested she relax a bit. But all she would do was frown and look down into her lap.

She had only been with us for six or seven weeks when, one morning, she didn't turn up for work. At about half past ten, her husband called me on the phone to ask if she was there. He was clearly embarrassed and I told him she hadn't come in to work, but was curious to know why he seemed not to know that she hadn't.

'Did she leave the house to come to work?' I asked.

'Well, no...! As a matter of fact, er, she wasn't home last night, and I er... wondered...'

I didn't know what to think. Perhaps they'd had a family row but that was no way my problem. 'Are you saying that Brenda's missing from home?' I asked him. 'Perhaps you should go to the police.'

There was a pause. 'No, er... that won't be necessary,' he said, 'I think I er... know er... where she might be.' And, with an apology, he rung off.

The following day Brenda still didn't appear at the office. There were no messages. Fortunately, one of my colleagues was away for a few days and his secretary was able to take on the work I had. It was after lunch that the receptionist phoned through to tell me that Brenda's husband was downstairs asking to see me.

Down in the reception office, I met him. He was a big, hefty, tough looking character. He was a builder, unshaven, and in his working clothes. At least, I took them to be his working clothes. He looked pale and nervous, twisting his cap in his hands.

I held out my hand. He wiped his down his trousers before taking mine. Shaking his hand I introduced myself to him. 'Has Brenda turned up?' I asked.

'Aye,' he said after a pause, 'but I'd er... like a word in er... private, if you don't mind.'

I told the receptionist that I would be in the interview room but didn't want to be disturbed and asked him to follow me. 'If you don't mind,' he said, 'can we talk in the pub next door?' I looked a bit surprised I suppose, because he went on, 'I'd not feel comfortable in your posh office. In a bar I feel more at home. I'll be able to talk better.'

I turned to the receptionist. 'That's where I'll be. Perhaps you'll take any messages for me. Thanks!'

When we settled into the smoking room of the pub - they still had them in those days - I suggested 'A pint of bitter, perhaps, or a whisky?' He smiled and accepted both! I ordered two pints and a scotch and waited at the bar until they were drawn. I carried the foaming thirst-quenching beer to the quiet table in the far corner, went back for the whisky and then settled into a chair facing him and smiled encouragingly.

'Well, Mr Broadacre. What's all this about?' I asked, offering him a cigarette, which he refused. 'I don't,' he said.

This was the story he told me, without the many hesitations and verbal stumblings. He wasn't a natural easy talker and it must have taken a lot of courage on his part to open up to me in this honest way. Anyway, this is what he told me.

I've known Brenda ever since we was teenagers. She came to live in the house opposite in our road when she was about eighteen and she was a lot brighter 'n me, but I allus admired her. I was a year older 'n her and I was labouring in t' building trade. I suppose yer might say I was in love wi' her even in them days.

But she wouldn't have owt to do wi' me. I'm not sure why, but there it is. It used to upset me a lot, I can tell you, but there was no help for it. She's not pretty but she's a lotta character an' I was a quiet, self-conscious sort o' lad and a bit of a loner in them days. I'd got no brothers nor sisters. Brenda knew I fancied her from the start.

She'd tease me, then deliberately ignore me. She preferred the gang of lads in t' next road 'cause they were more boisterous and treated her as one of them. My mother used to call her all sorts of names - a slag, a gypsy urchin, a trollop - and told me to have nowt to do wi' her. Well, I'd've given all I had to be wi' her. It were her who'd 'ave nowt to do wi' me.