Millicent And The Stranger

"Goodnight, Akela."

"Goodnight, Timmy."

Returning the cheery wave the cub gave her as he climbed into his mum's Volvo, Millicent Darby pulled the door shut, and turned the key in the lock. The scout hut lay nestled in the woods, but a dirt access road had been put through to allow the parents to collect their children. Millicent watched the rear lights of the station wagon bump down the uneven track, then pulled her official scout's fleece more tightly around her; the nights were drawing in and a damp chill was in the air.

Millicent herself did not drive; nor did she have a husband to collect her. At fifty-three years of age, she was single, and had no expectation that this might to change. Plump and bespectled as she reached puberty, the boys had not come calling; and as she had grown in age, and in girth but not in height, such young men as might have been inclined to show an interest had mistaken shyness and awkwardness for brusqueness and indifference, and been deterred. By her thirties Millicent had put aside any girlish hopes of romance, and priding herself on being sensible and practical, had instead determined to become useful. In time the Scouts, the neighbourhood watch, meals on wheels, the Oxfam shop, the Citizen's Advice Bureau and the church choir had all come to benefit from the enthusiastic participation of the no-nonsense spinster.

Rather than follow the access track, Millicent took a short cut that came out on the west side of the woods by the electricity sub-station, joining the path that ran along the inside of the hedge that bordered the main road. There had been a succession of showers during the day, and finding the going rather muddy, Millicent was glad of her stout leather walking shoes.

The meeting she thought had been a success. The curate of St. Oswald's had spoken to the pack about how they might develop their spiritual potential, and then she had shown them how to tie a bowline. All good wholesome fun, she reflected, as she turned the sharp corner by the sub-station fence, and clattered into the tall figure of a man.

Stumbling she fell against him, one chubby arm wrapping itself round his back to steady herself, while with her free hand she grasped for something to hold onto.

Dazed, Millicent clung to the man momentarily, her head resting against his breast. He also was breathing heavily; his hands were on her broad hips.

She looked up at him, but in the failing light his face lay hidden in the shadow cast by the hood of his anorak.

"I'm terribly sorry..." The words died on her lips as she felt something jerk in her hand. The man's trousers Millicent realised were around his knees, and to her horror she had hold of his erect penis.

Releasing her hold upon the member as if it had come straight from the fire, Millicent tried to break free, but the strong hands on her hips pulled her against him, his manhood squeezed between the two bodies, prodding her stomach. As she struggled his grip shifted to her buttocks, squeezing handfuls of the plump flesh. She twisted away, and a strong hand closed upon her crotch, pulling her fabric encased bottom back into his naked midrift, so that the cleft rubbed against his terrible pole. As she twisted this way and that to free herself, his free hand explored her body, grasping at her breasts through the fleece jacket, until he succeeded in ripping it open.

His intent was clear, and she was, she knew, helpless to resist him. There was only one thing to be done. She must do exactly as he asked and hope that he would then refrain from hurting her.

She ceased to struggle, and sensing her surrender, the man released her. She turned to face him, peering up into the dark recesses of his hood. "Do with me what you will," she murmured, and with that she fully unfastened her fleece and cast it off.

He stood silently and his manhood twitched. "More?" she gulped, undoing the top button of her blouse. His hands reached out urgently to tear at her remaining clothes. "Please, let me," she pleaded. The man nodded.

Millicent undid her blouse and slid it off, exposing her heavy-set shoulders and the excess flesh that hung from her upper arms. Her large belly hung over the waistband of her skirt, while the smallish breasts remained encased in a sensible bra. Surely, she thought, this pervert would find nothing in this spectacle to inflame his desire.

"Do you want to see more?" she asked. He gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Close to tears, she unfastened the clasp of her bra, freeing the disproportionately small breasts, her nipples hardening with the cold.

She stole a glance at the man's penis, a hard rod of flesh; she could not judge the length, but to her it seemed immense. Her slot had never had to accommodate anything larger than her finger, how would she cope? She would just jolly well have to, that was all.

Bravely she removed her skirt, and pulled down her thick tights, so that they bundled around her ankles. Blushing to her core she stood before him in just her big knickers and her scouts' neckerchief.

She looked up at him pleadingly, but he remained as forbiddingly impassive as ever. Continuing to gaze at him in the hope that he would relent, she hesitantly lowered the white cotton, easing the panties past her chubby thighs to slide down the thick calves. The fold of her belly flopped to partially obscure the tangle of mousey pubes below.

Millicent's heart was pumping and her lips had become dry. In the failing light the man's penis seemed terrifyingly large. He gestured that she was to kneel. Oh, she thought, that.

Settling herself upon her ample haunches, she shuffled a little closer, her knees squidging in the mud. The purple glans was just inches from her snub nose. Truly she must face her fears. Taking the monster in her hand she opened her mouth wide, and tentatively touched her tongue upon the tip. The texture was more spongy than she had expected, and though slightly salty, the taste was not as disgusting as she had feared. Stoically she took the glans into her mouth; it proved a disconcertingly large mouthful. She attempted first to caress it with her tongue, but then finding that awkward, began to use her lips to draw the penis in and out of her mouth.

As she began to build a workmanlike rhythm, the man responded by thrusting deeper into her mouth, so that his glans began to butt against the back of her mouth. Beginning to gag, Millicent took a firm hold and attempted to pull the penis free, but the man pushed her head down hard, so that she found herself taking what felt like the whole length of the engorged cock.

Millicent's eyes bulged. It was one thing to use her mouth to lick and suck, a girl could get the hang of that: indeed she felt she had done rather well. But dear God, this was too much. If she had to endure the abominable lusts of this man then better surely that he should use the orifice the Lord had intended.

As the man loosened his grip, she spat out the cock and looked up at him pleadingly. "Fuck me," she gasped. Grabbing at his shirt, she began to haul herself up. "Please just fuck me."

Roughly the man span her around, and flung her sprawling to the ground. His hands grabbed her hips, and obediently Millicent thrust up her ample bottom, ready to be entered. She was breathing hard, and the cool mud as it oozed beneath her exposed flesh was oddly sensual. Despite the chill evening her loins felt pleasantly warm. She was about to be deflowered by a brutal stranger, and in spite of herself, her body was responding in expectation.

But why not? thought Millicent. If she were aroused his brutal attentions would be easier for her to bear. Tentatively she ran a hand under her belly and touched her clitoris. If she concentrated on her own pleasure perhaps she could endure his. As she felt the man's hands kneading the plump cushions of her behind she began pleasuring herself more vigorously, rubbing at the swollen nub with the same no-nonsense vigour she might use to capture an image in wax crayon of a church brass.

She felt the tip of his penis pushing against her labia, then slipping away. Telling herself that the sooner he began, the sooner he would be done, she arched her back and pushed up her sitting bones to present her vagina more helpfully. Only to find his hard knob prising apart the tight star of her anus.

No, not that! "In my cunt," she pleaded, "Please fuck me in my cunt." She breathed a sigh of pure relief, as her nether lips parted to admit the thick rod. "Thank you," she blurted out. "Oh, thank you."

Still rubbing herself determinedly, she rode the pain as he pushed through her too long in tact hymen, but then found herself comfortably able to accommodate the cock that had looked so huge in the half light. As the man settled into a steady rhythm, she thrust back in unison, helping him, she told herself, to finish, so that her ordeal might be over.

Before her ordeal was over poor Millicent was to have to bite down on her own forearm to prevent herself from squealing in ecstasy. As the man continued to thrust relentlessly, the sensations became almost unbearable until she shouted in distress, "I want you to come. Please come." And so he did, his sticky warmth filling her.

As the man's footsteps died away, Millicent lay sprawled face down in the cloying mud, her broad arse thrust in the air as his spunk dripped from the puffy lips; she felt she had acquitted herself rather well. She had kept her wits about her, and if she had lost her virtue, she had at least suffered no actual physical harm. Certainly if she were to find herself in such a situation again, she should know precisely how to behave. And she did take this path quite often...

******

The Reverend Peter Pettifer was distressed. That dreadful dumpy scout-mistress had bullied him into giving a talk to the cubs on finding their faith. As if he were not struggling enough with his own faith. Oh, the boys gazing up at him with their puppy eyes had been adorable; too damn adorable -- that was something else he was struggling with.

As his head swum with vile, unspeakable thoughts, the blood pumped into Peter's penis, which stiffened painfully in the enclosed space of his Y-fronts, demanding his attention. On leaving the scout hut, he had followed the access track back to the main road, and then followed the path that ran along the hedge, as far as the sub-station. Here the fence enclosing the transformers afforded him some sense of privacy, while the hedge sheltered him from the road, and he could see down the path a hundred yards or more in either direction.

Peter unbuckled his belt and undid his fly. Sliding trousers and underpants down a few inches, he pulled out his cock. If anyone came down the path, he should see them coming in ample time to adjust his dress.

Leaning into the fence he began pumping his engorged member, his breath coming heavy. Hearing a rustling he stopped, but looking both ways down the path there was no-one to be seen. This was madness -- he should cease immediately. But he could not. His hand slid back and forth, pulling and pushing the sheath of skin along the hardened shaft, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the obscene images that populated his mind.

And then he was almost knocked off his feet. Appearing out of nowhere a woman had thrown herself at him. Instinctively he grabbed hold of her waist to steady her, and as he did so her right arm wrapped under his to caress his back, while her left hand took a firm hold of his penis, squeezing it tightly.

Astonished as he was by this sudden assault, Peter's first thought was that he could not be seen like this. He had just sufficient wits about him to pull the hood of his anorak down over his face, but as he did so he felt his trousers fall further down to pool around his knees.

"I'm terribly sorry," the woman began, then letting go of his cock, drew away. To his horror the curate realised it was the scout-mistress, Miss Darby. What if she had recognised him? She would tell everyone!

Desperately Peter clung on to the broadly spaced hips, determined to prevent the spinster from escaping; as he pulled her against him, his stubbornly erect cock prodded her belly. To gain a firmer hold of her he shifted his grip to her buttocks, but found them too large to gain a purchase on, finding himself grabbing at handfuls of flesh as she struggled to free herself.

Twisting, she almost escaped him, but Peter threw his arms around her and dragged her back towards him. His right hand struggled to find a purchase, but he had a firm grip with his left. He was not quite sure what he had hold of, but she seemed unable to break free. As he pulled her towards him, his unruly member was caught within the cleft of her buttocks. His left hand, he now realised, had hold of her crotch; as she writhed in his grip she was rubbing her mound into his palm, whilst her buttcrack performed a massage on his penis. Dear God, what was she doing?

Just then, he heard a tearing noise as his scrabbling right hand caused the zip of her fleece to part. Unexpectedly Miss Darby ceased her writhings. Gratefully Peter released her, pulling his hood down further as she turned to face him. He was only 5'7" but she was a head shorter than him. She gazed up at him, her eyes large under the pebble glasses, her freckled snub nose and slightly buck teeth almost boyish. Peter felt his cock twitch.

"Do with me what you will," she whispered in a husky, sultry voice, and with that she began slowly, seductively to draw down the rest of the zip, shaking the fleece free of her shoulders before casting it aside.

"More?" she asked, her voice hesitant, hopeful. This wasn't right. Peter put out a hand to stop her, but she pleaded with him. "Please let me." Touched by the depth of her need, Peter found himself nodding his consent.

Shamelessly the scout-mistress discarded her blouse. Peter had never seen so much flesh; so much womanliness; there was nothing gross in the mature curves, just an abundance of God's gift to Adam. Peter, shy and lacking confidence, had always been intimidated by the flighty ways of girls his own age; but now confronted by the revelation of Miss Darby's unabashed sexuality he suddenly understand the generosity of that gift.

"Do you want to see more?" she teased, her eyes moist with desire. He nodded. Confident in her nakedness, Miss Darby cast off her bra, to unveil breasts that could be cupped neatly in the hand. The nipples stood out like pegs, testifying to her arousal.

She wanted him, and to his confusion Peter found himself wanting her. Dumbfounded he watched as stepping out of the uniform skirt that had tightly encased her nether regions, she rolled down her hose to reveal the solid thighs and strong calves of a robust active woman. Only an expanse of white cotton pantie remained to preserve her modesty.

The middle-aged woman gazed up at him, her face flushed, then hooked her thumbs over the tops of her knickers, easing them down her hips to slowly disclose the bush of sandy pubes nestling between the tops of her thighs.

Naked now apart from the scout-leader's neckerchief held in place by its woggle, playfully she ran her tongue over her lips, hungrily eyeing the curate's enduringly erect penis.

This could not be, he was a man of the cloth, and she a respectable woman, old enough to be his mother. He put his arms out, palms down, to calm her, but without a word, she sank to her knees, and taking his cock in her chubby little hand, guided it into her mouth.

Hungrily her tongue lapped at his engorged helmet, teasing the sensitive nerve endings almost beyond endurance; and then her head began bobbing up and down on the end of his cock. He had dreamt of this, but this was not as in his dreams; a woman of mature years was showing him the path of natural desire, and never in his young life had he felt so excited.

Unconsciously he responded to the spinster's passionate slurping by thrusting with his hips; her motion became more ragged as she took him deeper into her mouth, urgently demanding more and more of his length. Then to heighten his pleasure she began squeezing his balls.

This was too much for the curate, who in an involuntary spasm grabbed hold of the spinster's head to steady himself, and as he did so she took all of him.

Breaking off her oral ministrations, Miss Darby gazed up, her eyes frenzied with desire. "Fuck me," she pleaded, grabbing at his shirt. "Please just fuck me."

It was all too much for the young curate. This poor woman had no control over her appetites, for him to take advantage of her lust to satisfy his own bases urges would simply be wrong. More roughly than he intended, Peter pushed her away from him, and the naked woman feel sprawling face down in the mud.

Instantly contrite, Peter rushed to help Miss Darby up, placing his hands upon her hips, but to his dismay the spinster responded by rising onto her knees and thrusting out her generous bottom, presenting her private parts to him.

Peter gazed in wonder at the two great fleshy cushions divided by the deep crack in which the dark star of her arsehole was just visible, while below puffy lobes parted to reveal glistening inner lips. He could almost feel the heat rising from her loins as he drank in her musky odour. Tentatively he squeezed the pale globes, delighting in the how they yielded to his touch.

Truly this must be God's work, he thought, his eyes widening as this angel of concupiscence reached back a hand to play with her clitoris, kneading the gleaming nub with her stubby fingers. Closing his eyes to offer up a silent prayer, he leant into her, his cock exploring for the silky opening.

"In my cunt," Miss Darby demanded impatiently. "Please fuck me in the cunt." Anxious to oblige Peter guided his cock into the glistening slot. It did not go in smoothly at first, but with a slight push he penetrated her fully, his cock sliding in deeply. "Thank you," the scout-mistress cooed appreciatively. "Oh, thank you."

Still frantically rubbing her clitty, the scout-mistress pushed back at him, and, being new to this, he allowed himself to be guided by the rhythm she set. Back and forth his skinny frame slapped against that wonderful, ample, gorgeous arse, as the penis that she had so desired pistoned into her hot welcoming pussy. In that moment he was Adam and every man, and she was Eve and every woman, and God's will was being done,

Utterly, utterly shameless Miss Darby lost control entirely, begging him to come inside her. And he did, the hot spunk pulsing into the spinster's tight pussy as his fingers dug into the plump mounds of her buttocks.

Pulling up his trousers, Peter gazed down upon the naked scout-mistress, sprawled contentedly on the muddy path, her ample flesh albescent in the twilight. Then, without having uttered a word, he continued on his way, a fresh spring in his stride.

In satisfying the unbridled lust of this deeply sensual woman the curate had discovered his own true sexuality. God, seeing in the strength of her needs a tool he could put to His use, had sent her to him, and she had done His work.

Peter would find reason to visit the scout hut again, but the innocent faces of the boys would trouble him no more. The scout-mistress, however, had more of the Lord's work to do.

CODA

Millicent locked the door of the scout hut, from the inside. The young priest was waiting for her. She had been surprised when this shy, kind man, not half her age, had placed his hands upon her hips and leant in to kiss her; but having discovered her body's needs, she had responded with an urgency that matched his own, yielding to him with a wanton passion. That had been three months since; three glorious cock-filled months.

Playfully she kicked off her walking shoes, and undid the zip of her grey skirt. The curate smiled sheepishly as he slapped the leather flogger across his palm, and she wiggled her big behind cheekily in his direction. The whip had been a gift from her to him: the poor boy was hopelessly in thrall to her butt, but Millicent had known a little encouragement was needed for him to overcome his squeamishness. She was excited at the prospect of the promised flogging, craving this thrilling chastisement of the flesh from her strong, sensitive young stud.