I think that we know each other pretty well by now. If you've read the other little stories in my English Pub Landlady Series I know you won't think badly of me if I tell you a secret. Just between you and me, you understand?
The other morning I had showered and was sitting at my dressing table. I was painting my nails with the new bright red nail polish that I'd bought the day before. I still don't know why, and you mustn't laugh, but I just dabbed some on my left nipple. It tingled a bit but it felt quite nice. The naughty girl in me thought, "Why not paint them both?"
So that's what I did. Checking them from every angle I was quite pleased with the result. Then reality kicked in. I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to get it off again.
To make things worse, the chemical feeling on my nips had started my medical condition. I had rather painted myself into a corner. Harry was off playing golf with his new best friend Gerald so he wouldn't be of any help. I could get dressed and drive around the countryside but the local schools were on half-term holidays so the rural car parks would all be full of picnicking families. I don't mind an audience but I do have my limits.
You're not going to believe this but there was a sudden knock on the side door of the pub. Looking out of the window I could see a parcel delivery van parked in the road. I quickly slipped on a dressing gown and went down to answer the door. There was a young man standing there holding a package. As I took the parcel from him he asked me to sign for it. I put the box on the floor in front of me. In doing so one of my bright red shiny nipples flopped into view.
"Blimey," said the man, "I've never seen anything like that before."
"You'd better come in and have a closer look," I said, pulling him into the pub.
I pulled off my robe and went for his trousers. As soon as I had them around his ankles I pushed the man down onto the floor. Checking to make sure his cock had reached its full potential, I stepped over his body and squatted on his erection.
Interlocking my fingers with his, I steadied myself while I bobbed up and down. As I was controlling the whole thing, what was best for me wasn't best for him so he came faster than we both would have liked. Still, the injection of cum was just what I needed to put out the fire. But somehow I felt a little short changed so I turned around into what I believe is called the sixty-nine position. I tend to think of it as mutual cleaning.
Nevertheless, whatever you call it, the young man went for it. Getting his tongue into my hole and then giving my clitoris some very expert attention. I could feel his todger responding to my sucking action. By the time an orgasm ripped through me he was fully hard again.
Not wishing to waste an opportunity, I got back on the horse. As he reached a second climax I did consider changing ends again but thought better of it.
I encouraged him to get dressed and fuck off. As I was showing him the door he suggested that he could come back another day. Assuring him that he would never be that lucky again I pushed him out and bolted the door.
"Is it OK if I finish cleaning in here, now?" a voice came from behind the bar.
"Oh shit," I said, "I forgot that I hadn't seen you this morning."
Rita replied, "I just went to take the rubbish out and when I came back you were training for The Grand National."
"How long have you been watching?" I asked.
"Not that long."
"So, how come you have your jeans unbuttoned?"
"I'm only human. It was that or push you off him," Rita grinned.
We both laughed like schoolgirls. I slipped my dressing gown on. Rita nodded towards my tits and said, "That's going to be a bugger to get off."
"Yeh, I don't know what possessed me. It seemed like a good idea at the time," I replied.
Rita came back with, "We've all done it, love."
She and I had become very close since the New Year's party. Rita now felt she could be cheeky with me and I encouraged her.
In early January I had invited her and Imogen to lunch in Dorchester. Glenda was working. As the dust had settled, I wanted to talk to them on neutral ground about moving forward with the Saturday night lock-in idea. Those two greedy girls wanted to make it every Saturday night. I felt that it would be more exciting if it was less regular. I explained to them that a pub wasn't a democracy so we agreed on the first Saturday of each month. We wouldn't tell the customers in advance and as they were men they wouldn't be able to work out a pattern. Imogen and Geoffrey would take on their previous roles, but I would give her free reign to wear what she liked. Rita would just turn up each time with Brian and Glenda.
After that we had quite a girly chat about clothing etc. Imogen was very concerned that she didn't know how to dress sexually. I suggested she look at YouTube videos of Dr Janina Ramirez, who managed to be a very well respected ancient historian and still look like a dirty bitch. I was close to asking the two of them on a girls' shopping weekend but thought I would wait a bit.
Just before we went our separate ways, I handed Imogen a DVD. "I thought you and Geoffrey may like to watch this together some evenings. It is the only copy," I said.
Imogen thanked me and then said, "You know what the book said about putting English Mustard on sore nipples? Well it didn't really work. It made them hurt worse and they went yellow. I wish that I'd just left them alone.
"Still, I quite like them being longer."
For a clever girl she can be quite naive sometimes.
Since then we had had three lock-ins which had gone really well. The girls had revelled in their new found freedom and Geoffrey and Brian had loved to watch.
Glenda was was happy just to get out every month, have a few drinks and get fucked once or twice or three times. She stuck to her favoured legs in the air position. The nymphos could do all the kinky stuff, she felt. I presumed she was talking about Imogen and Rita.
"Do you think that I should use nail polish remover?" I asked Rita.
"No idea, I've only ever put lipstick on mine," she answered.
"Thanks, you're a great help.
"While I've got you here. I've been meaning to ask you about your birthday, do you have anything planned?" I went on.
Rita looked a little dejected as she said, "Not really, I suppose we'll just go for a meal or something."
"How would you feel if I arranged a big surprise for you?"
"Like what?" she enquired, tentatively.
"Something really dirty and really messy," I replied.
"I would involve Brian but that's all you need to know. Other than that you would have no control over it and you would have to consent to everything that happens to you without knowing what it is beforehand.
"You will have to trust me," I added.
Rita beamed, "Yes, yes and yes please."
-
The next day, I was standing outside the pub trying to decide if it needed repainting. I heard someone calling me. I turned to see a woman hovering by what used to be the Village Shop. She beckoned me over to her. It was Helen.
Helen is a lady in her late fifties. As well as being Gerald's wife she is also the 'Chair' of the Women's Institute. As she is a woman and only women are allowed to join the W.I. I'm not sure why she's not called the Chairwoman. But evidently she would rather be referred to as a piece of furniture.
Don't tell anyone but I am slightly afraid of the W.I. I'm not sure why. Helen makes me a little nervous too. It may be my imagination but I always feel as if she's looking down her nose at me. I really wished that I could get some advantage over her.
"Good morning Helen. What can I do for you?"
"Good morning," she replied.