The Nags Head

When I was younger I lived with my widowed mother in a small terraced house in one of those grim, northern English towns.

To get away from it all I used to borrow her wreck of a car some evenings and drive my girlfriend to an old village pub in the middle of nowhere – The Nag's Head. We'd have a couple of drinks and Meg would always show her gratitude by giving me a blowjob in the darkness of the pub car park before we headed back and I dropped her off at her family's home.

Meg took great pride in her ability. If fellatio was an Olympic sport, she'd have won gold for sure. This was a woman who simply loved the taste of cum and made no bones about it, if you pardon the pun. She licked and sucked, opened her throat and buried her nose in my pubic hair. I never needed to wipe the seats, because she swallowed every drop. "Yummy!" she'd say with a big smile and then she'd slowly lick her lips. It was a very sexy sight.

Our relationship developed rapidly and we started having sex at her parents' place, if we could get the house to ourselves and we knew we wouldn't be disturbed by anyone. We screwed like bunny rabbits, with all the energy and enthusiasm of youth. "Yes... Yes... Yes... Yes... Fuck me, Jim, fuck me!" she would repeatedly chant as she came. The fucking was wonderful, but depended on us having the time and place. On the other hand, as far as oral was concerned, whether in the bedroom, the back seat of my mother's car or anywhere else, Meg would blow me happily whenever and wherever the mood took her. She was reasonably well endowed up top and one of her best routines was to get me to titty fuck her as a prelude to yet another world class blowjob.

Neither of us went to college, but in due course I got a job with a manufacturer of soft drinks, working in their local warehouse. I benefited from a natural talent for distribution and my personal mantra was "the right case in the right place at the right time for the right price". To be fair, I had a very good boss, who gave me the freedom to try some innovative stuff, like mixed loads of heavy and lightweight items. We made a nice bit of extra income when I did a piggyback deal to take on the distribution for a neighbouring manufacturer of snack foods.

Our directors could see the benefit of saving costs by improving our distribution arrangements, but what I hadn't expected was their move to sign a contract with a multinational logistics company, which would take over our distribution. Fortunately my potential had been noted and I was offered a junior management position at the logistics company's distribution centre. It was over a hundred miles away and meant I was going to have to move house. A year previously I would have turned it down, but my mother had recently passed away after a short and painful battle with the big 'C' and my only significant local connection was Meg.

*

One autumn afternoon about five years later I was driving back from a meeting with a client on the west coast and happened to take a short cut along a small country road that brought me close to that middle of nowhere village where The Nag's Head was located. There was nothing special about the pub, although it was around a hundred and fifty years old, nicely situated at the edge of the village, and even boasted a few tables and chairs in a small beer garden out front. My fond memories of the place were of Meg's prowess in the car park round the back of the pub, rather than the quality of the beer, which was generally execrable.

It had been a few years since I had been anywhere near this part of the country, but it was around lunchtime and on the spur of the moment I decided to detour via the village and pop into The Nag's Head for a sandwich and lemonade.

The landlord was an old Scottish guy called Murray, a chatty type with a friendly disposition, and he was still tending the bar. In fact, as I glanced around the place, it seemed that just about everything was the way I remembered it, although there were now a couple of flat screen televisions hanging overhead and what looked like an enormous music centre at the back of the lounge. The decor was still the same, with fading checked upholstery and a very tired looking dark grey carpet that must have absorbed gallons of spilled drinks over the years. Murray hadn't changed a bit. He still had the same welcoming smile and he was still balder than the badly worn carpet. No fancy rugs on either of them.

Presumably I hadn't changed either, as he recognised me straight away. I was not local and had never been a regular, so I just assumed that Murray, like many professionals in his trade, had a landlord's ability to remember faces.

He greeted me enthusiastically. "Long time no see, young man. What's your poison?"

"A glass of lemonade, please. I'm driving. And I'll have one of those cheese and pickle sandwiches."

"I haven't seen you in here for a few years. Where have you been?" he asked, as he poured my lemonade.

"Got a job in a big city, got married, bought a house, the usual story. This place looks much the same, though."

"More or less," he replied. "It's the same old crowd. Mind you, it's difficult competing against home entertainment nowadays. I had to put in the whole internet and sports television package with those widescreens in the bar and lounge. I even got a jukebox and karaoke machine."

He set the lemonade and sandwich down in front of me and took my money, turning towards the till to ring up the sale. "Your old girlfriend still comes in from time to time," he said over his shoulder. He was rummaging in the till, getting my change, so he didn't see that I had been taken by surprise.

"I bet you were wondering why I remembered you," he said, as he handed me my change.

"My old girlfriend?" I asked, puzzled.

"Aye. You know the one, that wee blonde lassie. You did me a big favour, laddie. A wee while after you moved away she started coming in every couple of weeks with her sister."

"Hang on," I said. "Are you talking about Meg?"

"That's the one. To be honest, if it wasn't for the chance to have a go with the pair of them, a lot of the guys might not be doing their drinking here."

"So they come in once in a while and flirt with the locals?"

"Aye, you could say that, but between you and me, to tell you the truth, it's a bit more than that. They're generous with their favours, if you catch my drift. Don't get me wrong. They're lovely lassies, but definitely not the type to be taking home to meet your mum and dad. I reckon you dodged a bullet there."

I was stunned. "Really?" was all I could say.

Murray lowered his voice slightly. "Some folk reckon the pub car park has a lot to do with it. There was always talk of couples parking up and making out in the car park after hours, but it seems to be a sure thing if Meg and Nancy come by. They usually turn up after nine, do a bit of dancing and flirting with the guys, then have a hot and heavy session in the car park."

"But aren't they worried they could get caught by the police?"

"No chance. It's dark back there next to the trees, it's the middle of nowhere and nobody is going to stick their nose in where it's not wanted. You should know. You never worried about getting caught."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Murray winked at me. "Come on. You're the one that started it. We all knew the pair of you went out the back for a session in that car of yours every time you were here."

"So you're saying she just kept on doing the same thing, but with different guys?"

"Aye. As I said, it's only every couple of weeks or so, but the two of them have been a feature for a few years now. It's an open secret that the wee blonde gives world class blowjobs and a few of the locals have even nicknamed the pub Meg's Head."

By now I had finished my lemonade, but the sandwich didn't look particularly appealing and I had lost my appetite.

"Do you know when they'll next be here?" I asked Murray.

"They never say when they're next planning to visit, which suits me. That means there's always a few guys stopping by, on the off chance they'll get lucky. The last time the girls were in was a couple of weeks back, so who knows? Would you like me to give them your regards the next time I see them?"

"I think that would be a bad move, Murray," I quickly replied. "I don't want them getting any ideas that I could be interested."

"Aye, you're probably right," he replied. "Better let sleeping dogs lie, if you pardon the expression," he added with a wink and a broad grin. "I'll not say a word about having seen you, but don't be a stranger. You're welcome here anytime. What about your sandwich, by the way?"

The sandwich was sitting in its plastic wrapping, unopened. "I'll take it with me," I said, picking it up and heading for the door. "See you around."

*

I had scheduled a meeting the next day with a manufacturer a couple of hours drive away and I had reserved a room for that night at a motel not far from their offices. However what Murray said about not being a stranger got me thinking and I decided to change my plans. The same chain of anonymous motels had another one a few miles from The Nag's Head, at a service area on the nearby motorway, so I switched my booking. If there was any substance to the landlord's gossip, then there was a strong likelihood that Meg and her sister, Nancy, would turn up at The Nag's Head that evening. Nevertheless, the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed to me that something along the lines of what he had told me was actually going on.

Time seemed to drag by that afternoon. I checked into the motel, had a swim in the motel pool, which wasn't much larger than a bath, did a bit of surfing on the web, made sure my smartphone was fully charged and had an early dinner around 6pm.

Despite being disinclined to believe what Murray had said, I didn't want to miss any possible action, so I set off around 8pm and less than half an hour later I was parked in a side street across from The Nag's Head, with a clear view of the pub and the entrance to the car park behind the pub. It was a lovely evening, with hardly any clouds and no wind, and I settled down with my e-reader, checking every time a car went by, which was not very often. The sun was dipping below the horizon when I spotted Meg's car just before 9pm. Right enough, it looked like Meg and Nancy were going to grace the establishment with their presence that evening. I waited ten minutes and made my way towards the pub car park.

The car park was bounded by woodlands and it was already deep in shadow at the far end, where Meg had reversed her car up close to the bushes and trees. There was no one around, so I strolled up to her car and had a look inside. There was a travel rug on the back seat, but nothing else of any note.

I knew last orders at the bar would be around 10.45pm and the pub stopped serving drinks at 11pm, so if anything was going to happen in the car park, it was likely to be around then.

I found myself a place in the bushes behind and off to one side of Meg's car and settled down to wait. Although I had brought my eReader with me, I found it difficult to concentrate on the murder mystery I was reading, so I closed it down and put it away in my jacket pocket. That was just as well, I suppose, as another car entered the car park around 9.15pm. It parked at the other end of the car park, next to the pub. Four young guys got out, looked over towards Meg's car and then made their way to the back door of the pub, clearly in good humour, laughing and joking about something or other.

As I stood there, wondering about whether anything would happen after the women left the pub, I thought about simply going into the pub and having a chat with Meg and Nancy. It would have been interesting to see the expressions on their faces, but that would have told me very little about what they had planned on getting up to. The thought also crossed my mind that I should maybe disable Meg's car, possibly by deflating a tyre, but that would have been a mean trick if they were only there for a couple of drinks.

I didn't have to wait as long as I had anticipated and I was almost taken by surprise when the back door of the pub opened shortly after 9.30pm and Meg and Nancy emerged, giggling and laughing with two guys. The women each took the arm of a guy and they made their way across the car park towards me. Although the sun had set, there was a pale sliver of moon and enough light for me to recognise the two guys from the group of four that had arrived in the other car less than half an hour previously. To score that quickly, these guys were either very fast workers or the women already knew them.

Meg clicked the remote to unlock her car and Nancy got in the back with one guy, while Meg got in the driver's seat and the other guy got in the front passenger seat. I waited to see what would happen and suddenly realised I hadn't thought about the possibility that they might just meet at the pub and then drive off somewhere else.

It soon became clear they were going nowhere. I could make out that the heads in the back seat were together, so I reckoned Nancy was getting some kissing and cuddling at the very least. In the front of the car the heads were apart, so maybe there was just some talking going on. What happened next was decisive. The women's heads disappeared from view, while the men's heads stayed visible.

The evidence was now much more than merely circumstantial. I thought I could hear groans coming from inside the car. Then Nancy's head reappeared and the movement of the heads in the back of the car made it clear that doggy style fucking was next on the back seat agenda. Nancy's head was almost up against the side window and her guy was in behind her. He quickly got a good rhythm going and the car began to rock slightly. Meantime there was still no sign of Meg's head, which was obviously ministering to the other guy's needs.

There was much more groaning and even some squeaking from Nancy, as the action got hotter. Meg's head briefly reappeared before diving down again on the target of her desire. I'm not sure whether she had been surfacing for air, but she had been down there for quite some time. Maybe she just wanted to take a quick look at the action in the back seat. The car was still swaying as Nancy got what sounded like a right good fucking.

I wasn't in the least bit turned on by what was going on. In fact, the opposite was the case and I was wondering whether I would have to break cover and leave the scene, when it all came to a conclusion. The head of the guy in the front seemed to jerk up slightly and there were some guttural shouts from him, while the squeaking and groaning from the back of the car reached a crescendo.

In the aftermath of the tumultuous climax to the action, Meg's head came back into view and I think I saw her wipe her mouth. It was definitely a hand movement, but I wasn't sure whether any tissue or cloth had been used. Maybe she just licked her lips and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, which after all was her standard operating procedure. I didn't exactly hear her say, "Yummy!" But I could easily imagine that was what happened.

Some readjustment of clothing seemed to take place inside the car and the four participants emerged after a short while. The guys checked their belts and zips, while the women straightened their dresses, then the four of them went back into the pub. I thought I had seen enough and I was going to go back to my car and return to the motel, but then I wondered if there would be some sort of encore and what would happen at the end of the evening, so I decided to stay put.

That was just as well, as about ten minutes later the back door of the pub opened again and Meg and Nancy emerged with two more guys. If this was some sort of game presumably the two women had enjoyed a refreshment break and were coming back out onto the field of play for the second half. As they headed for Meg's car I was able to discern that these two guys were also from the other car, so it seems all four guys were going to get lucky.

What I expected to happen was the same procedure as I had already witnessed, so I was a bit surprised when Meg got in the back of the car with one of the guys. There wasn't much room for manoeuvre in the front seats, so it looked like Nancy was maybe well enough fucked and was going to be practising her blow job techniques on her new guy instead. Predictably, both of the women's heads disappeared from sight and the men soon started groaning with pleasure.

No wonder Murray the landlord was happy to see Meg and Nancy from time to time and turned a blind eye to what they were getting up to in his car park. I could quite understand that, if you were a young guy and there was a good chance of a first class blow job or a good old-fashioned fuck when you went to the pub, it's likely you'd be in there fairly often.

What I didn't understand was why Meg and Nancy were doing this. How had they ended up giving blow jobs to strangers in a pub car park in the middle of nowhere? Was it just for kicks?

If this was the second half of some sort of strange game that the women were playing, the game changed when Meg's head reappeared and she turned round and bent over to allow her guy to fuck her from behind. The score was now blow one and fuck one for both women. Meg was not just a blow job specialist. I stood transfixed, while the roles were reversed and Nancy blew her man while Meg got a thorough fucking. I knew when Meg was about to come. In amongst the groaning and grunting coming from the men, I heard a new version of her favourite climax mantra, "Yes... Yes... Yes... Yes... Fuck me, Jeff, fuck me!" It was clearly a very positive experience for her.

This time the women did not accompany the men back into the pub. After it was all over the four of them got out of the car, kissed and said their goodbyes, and then I watched Meg drive off with Nancy. It was not yet 10.30pm and I realised what I wanted to do right now. There was a good half an hour's drinking time left and I had decided to visit the pub.

*

I was dog tired when I got home the next day after meeting with customers in between avoiding idiots and madmen on various roads and motorways.

My wife was busy in the kitchen, with what looked like all the ingredients for an Irish beef stew. She seemed happy to see me and gave me a big smile as I went to hang up my coat and set down my briefcase in the hall. It was my habit to have a cold beer when I got home from a business trip and she would usually join me with a glass of white wine for a chat before dinner.

This evening was no different, except that I asked her to listen to a recording I had made on my smartphone. It was a bunch of guys in a pub, talking about a couple of women they had been fucking. When it was over and I suggested she could go and live with her sister, Meg just sat there with tears running down her cheeks.

Divorce is England is a fairly straightforward procedure, particularly if you have good evidence of infidelity on the part of your spouse.