The Paul & Jenny Stories

The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 17h: The Batting Order Ch. 08

A Paul and Jenny story.

(Copyright 2002. All rights reserved).

All events and characters are fictitious.

Part 8.

Paul.

"How about your friend?" Jim asked as we walked out to the wicket to run the roller over the pitch and set up the stumps at either end of the wicket.

"Who?" I asked in reply.

"He's in the pavilion bar."

"Oh you mean Ian." I said, taking hold of one of the bars on the roller and together with Ron, Tony and Harry starting to drag it to the far end of the wicket. "He says he's never played cricket in his life. He's Scottish." I added as way of explanation.

"We need somebody to make up the numbers." Jim called from his position holding flat the piece of wood to be used as the guide to mark the creases for the batter and bowler.

"I'll ask him." I promised.

I hoped that we fielded first. He was already on his second pint of beer when we had left to come out to the pitch and looked like he was looking forward to a long session. I had helped Jenny behind the bar for five minutes until the first rush had gone and had a quick kiss from her as a reward.

I looked around for Steve but he had been talking to that young girl who had come with Jerry Thomson when I had last seen him. Len was in the main marquee with Stephanie and Ron, the curate, was talking to the Rector and their respective wives.

That left just the seven of us to do everything.

We finished rolling the pitch and then dragged the roller off the playing area and parked it down the side of the pavilion.

The two umpires were making their way out into the middle to supervise the toss of the coin between the team captains to decide who was to bat first.

I went back into the pavilion. There was only Ian standing at the bar.

"Ian." I said standing a little way along the bar from him. "Would you do me a favour?"

He turned and looked at me. I never knew how to take him. He could be as nice as pie one moment then aggressive as hell the next.

"What is it?"

He slurred the last word. How much had he had to drink?

"Would you play on our team?"

"We are short a player." I continued quickly. "We would only need you to field. You don't have to do anything else."

He sipped at his beer and looked from Jenny to me.

"Yes."

I hadn't expected that answer. Not without a few more beers inside him anyway.

"Yes?"

"Sure." He took another swallow of beer. "After what you did for us in Egypt."

I always found gratitude hard to take.

"Thank you." I said and turned to where the visitors changing room door was opening to reveal the opposing team.

"Has anybody seen my girlfriend?" Jerry Thomson asked, looming over me.

"No." I replied.

"She's out back with Steve." Ian said. "He's teaching her how to play cricket."

I looked out of the rear window at the nets and saw Steve with Jerry's girlfriend. He had her bent forward slightly with her ass cheeks hard against his groin as he showed her the correct way to hold a cricket bat.

Jerry had left the front of the building and I knocked hurriedly on the windowpane to attract Steve's attention and opened the window. He looked up, saw me waving at him and backed away from the girl.

"Sally." I heard Jerry call out.

"Over here." She replied.

Steve was moving down the pitch away from her holding one of the practise balls. He stopped when he was ten yards away, turned and lobbed it underhand towards her. She swung at it with her bat, connected and sent the ball into the netting at her side.

"I hit it." She said excitedly. "Why didn't you show me how to do it like Steve has?"

If I knew Steve he would be showing her how to do something else before too long.

Shirley.

My bum was sore. It hurt as I took my place behind the steering wheel of Jenny's car, turned the key in the ignition and pulled away.

I hated scenes, and David hadn't taken my telling him it was over very well. Well he would have to get over it. There was no future in it for me. His trip to Gloucester had proved that to me. I was expected to catch a bus from Cheltenham each day, let him have me a couple of times and then head dutifully back home.

My parents had started asking awkward questions as well. Where was I going each day? Who was I meeting? Was it a boyfriend? Why couldn't I bring him home to meet them?

I had found it so tiring.

It wasn't that I didn't like David. I did. He was a wonderful lover. But he was fifty-two and had a wife. I needed to clear my head for the year ahead at University while I took my masters. It was nice of Jenny and Paul to let me stay with them. I was glad they were so happy together. Paul hadn't so much as looked at me. He certainly hadn't tried anything on as a number of men I knew would if they had been in his position. I felt I could treat him like a brother.

I took the road out of Taunton that led to Chipping Marsden. Only another ten minutes.

I could have done with a shower before leaving but in the circumstances I had thought better of it. My bum was still sore despite the Vaseline he had used to penetrate it with. I could still feel the Vaseline, wet between my bum cheeks. I sniffed the air. Could I smell myself? It must be by association. He had me up there therefore I should be able to smell it.

Jenny and Lynda had been pleased to see each other. Jenny had told me all about their trip to Egypt the previous Christmas when she had gone missing. A lot of it sounded like it came from an adventure story but Ian's broken ribs had been proof something had happened. They seemed to get into all sorts of trouble on their holidays. Even their honeymoon had ended in Paul crashing the aeroplane he had been given as a birthday present a few days earlier.

I wondered if they would take me with them if they went away at Christmas this year?

Ah. Here was the cricket ground ahead. Just a pasture really. With the old wooden pavilion in one corner and an area in the middle which was kept clear of grazing animals by some old iron fences where they actually prepared their playing surface.

A strange game cricket. Eleven players a side. This game would be of one innings each with a maximum of forty overs a side. The bowler would bowl six balls to make up an over and then the next bowler would bowl from the other end of the pitch.

Steve would be playing. I wonder if he has brought a girlfriend. It had been awkward seeing him at the wedding of Jenny and Paul. He had this thin nurse with him. I could hardly sit with David and I had already let Steve have me the night before. We had both hung onto an arm. He'd taken her outside the marquee after Jenny and Paul had left. I had intended following but the big American called Howie, Carole's husband, had insisted I join their table. It had been nice talking to Carole but a couple of times I had felt Howie's hand on my thigh under the table and when he had taken me up to dance his hands on my bum. His father wasn't much better either. They had both sounded very keen that I accept the invitation Carol made to me to come out and visit her. Hmm. I'd have to think about that.

I pulled up at the gate at the back of the pavilion which Paul and Jenny always used. Steve was standing in the nets talking to a big man and a pretty blond girl. I honked my horn and Steve came across to open the gates. I noticed the big man take the girl by the arm and almost drag her around the side of the pavilion. I could see Paul's face at the window.

I drove through the gate while Steve held it open for me and parked beside a minibus. I switched off the engine and sat still, wishing my bum hole would stop throbbing.

There was a knock on the passenger side window and Steve bent to look inside the car. I liked Steve. Unfortunately so did a number of other girls. And Steve liked girls.

I leaned over and opened the passenger side door and Steve opened it and climbed in. He placed his arm about my shoulders and kissed me on the cheek.

"Hello." He said, smiling.

I noticed his arm remained about my shoulders.

"Hello." I replied, smiling back at him.

"I haven't seen you since the wedding." He said, looking around the car and then outside.

"No." I agreed.

I wasn't going to make things easy for him. He'd taken me into the woods at the pub we had gone to on the night before the wedding and had me. I didn't mind that, it had been nice. But then to appear with another girl the next day. I knew that he would have invited her weeks before, but still. It was my own fault I suppose. I was always too easy for him.

His hand was moving down my back, feeling the straps of my bra.

"How have you been?" He asked.

I wasn't about to confess that I had just been buggered by Paul's father. His hand was moving lower, nearly on the waistband of my jeans. I leaned back hard in the seat to halt its progress.

He wriggled his fingers and pulled his hand away.

"Ow." He said, rubbing them. "That hurt."

"Just don't start thinking that I'm yours whenever you want me."

"Oh." He replied, placing his hand on my shoulder. "You have somebody?"

"Yes. No."

If I said yes and he mentioned it to the others, especially Paul and Jenny, there might be questions asked. But now that I'd said no he would think that his way was open.

"What is it?" He insisted, rubbing his fingertip lightly along my cheekbone. "Yes or no?"

"No." I turned away; I could feel myself blushing.

It was hot in the car. I felt his hand on my shoulder again pulling me back to face him. His eyes looked huge. They were so close to my own. I could feel his breath and smell his aftershave.

His face was moving even closer. I closed my eyes as his lips touched mine. His arm was behind my back again and his other hand on my stomach, something was somersaulting inside it. I could feel myself becoming moist. I shouldn't be. I had already made love that day. Not in there but I had come. His fingers were on the button at the top of my jeans. One flick and it was open.

I pulled my head back from his and placed my hand upon his as it started to disappear inside the elastic of my knickers.

"No." I said. "Not here. Not now."

"I don't have much time." He replied. "We'll be playing soon."

He rubbed the mound in the front of his cricket whites then guided my hand on top of it. It felt hard and hot. Automatically my fingers began undoing his fly buttons. His own joined in and he lifted his backside as we pushed and pulled his trousers and underpants down to mid-thigh. I took his prick in my fingers and stroked his foreskin back and forth. I had had four lovers and if the truth had to be told his prick was probably the smallest I had had. Between five and six inches long and thin. But he did know what to do with it. And with his fingers. They were behind my head. Pushing it down towards his prick.

I found I couldn't resist him. Didn't want to resist him and lowered my head. I could smell his prick. A musty, sweet smell. I licked my lips and opened my mouth to take the head of it inside holding the base with my fingers. I heard him gasp as my lips pulled his foreskin back. I lifted my head then lowered it again. Then again and again.

I felt his hand on my back then under my arm, his fingers closing around my breast. I felt my nipple harden, the wetness inside my knickers increase, in both holes. I must be leaking at the rear. I thought of the damp patch that it would leave on my knickers and my wetness increased.

He was groaning out loud. His fingers tightening around my breast. Then it was gone, his fingers running down my spine inside my jeans and knickers between my bum cheeks. I jumped as his finger touched my tender anus.

"Ow." I mumbled my mouth full of prick.

"Hello." He panted, exploring my hole with the tip of his finger. "What's all this?"

I increased the speed of my hand on his prick.

"Ah." He said. "Oh yes."

His finger had moved from my anus and was rubbing the supersensitive area between my holes. I loved to be touched there. His finger was against my slit, pushing my lips apart. His other hand was on the back of my head as if he was frightened I would leave him at this vital moment. I felt his cock spasm as his finger entered me. My head jerked back at the force at which his come hit the back of my throat. I blocked thoughts of what it was from my mind and swallowed quickly but I could taste it. Hot, salty and bitter.

His finger was still moving in and out of me as I lifted my head.

"Steve."

I turned my head to look through the mist on the front windscreen at Paul. He was standing with his hands on his hips. I could feel my face blushing.

"Are you coming?" Paul continued. "We're fielding."

Steve pulled his finger from my hole and stretched before pulling up his underpants and trousers.

I sat up and struggled with the button of my own jeans as Steve climbed from the car buttoning the buttons on his trousers.

"Shirley?" Paul's mother appeared behind him. "Will you help me in the marquee? Oh. I'm sorry."

I felt my face redden even more. There was a blast of a car horn from the gate. David was waiting for somebody to open it.