Last time in The Thin End of the Wedge: Sally, an ordinary housewife, 39, is needing more and more sex to keep her satisfied. Perhaps something to do with the Red elixir in her system. She has just finished her first day as a working girl, working from home. Nine punters fucked her that day but, to her disappointment, she had to share some with pensioner Mary from the Neighbourhood Watch. Now read on ...
After Gruffydd had left Mary went home. There was no mention of Neighbourhood Watch demands and Sally watched as she crossed the road to her house. There was a slow carefulness about how Mary moved, as if she was walking on snow or ice, but then she had been fucked rigid. Many, much younger women than her, would have struggled to cope with what she had been put through. Sally was reminded of the phrase, 'she couldn't walk straight for days!'
Gruffydd was the last punter for the day and when Sally walked into the kitchen wearing her cum stained dressing gown she found Tom counting the cash. There was quite a pile and he looked pleased.
Then he stood up, stuffed the notes in his pocket, and declared, "Right! I'm off to the Black Bull for a pasty and some beer!"
"What about me?" whimpered Sally, feeling like she'd rather like a pasty too. And she could definitely cope with a stiff drink.
"I think, luv," said Tom. "You'd best be having a bath and washing your hair. You stink of men's sweat and there's at least three men's jizz in your hair."
"Oh yes," she agreed. "I suppose you're right."
"I'll see you when I see you," he grinned. And with that he grabbed his jacket and left.
Sally got herself that drink, a gin and tonic, and made herself a soup and a sandwich, then retreated to the bathroom. She washed her hair and then luxuriated in the hot bath. Red was still making her feel very randy and she frigged herself to orgasm, her jerking limbs stirring the warm water and her cries echoing off the tiles. It was nice, but not as nice as when someone else did it, or when she came from fucking. Was that some feature of Red, did it make you crave for other people providing the sexual stimulus?
The jizzed-on dressing gown went into the wash and she put on her lemon coloured night dress and sat with a second drink watching some television. As usual there was little on to entertain her. She watched a true crime documentary about kidnapped girls being rescued from a strange cult. But after that there was nothing that piqued her interest so she switched off the television and thought through the events of the last few days.
Accepting Tom's cuckolding request and consuming doses of Red up at the Manor House had certainly changed her world. She was having more frequent and more intense orgasms. It was like a drug. But, she reminded herself, she could quit this new lifestyle anytime she wished. Go back to being boring Sally with boring sex from Tom. Anytime she wanted. It was just that she didn't want to yet, and she didn't think Tom wanted her to give up either.
As if on cue the front door lock rattled and Sally glanced at the clock. It was just past closing time at the Black Bull pub so this must be Tom coming home. Perhaps she could persuade him to fuck her before sleep. She gently pulled up her nightdress to reveal more thigh and a hint of cunt in the hope of getting him feeling randy.
It was Tom, but he wasn't alone. He had his arm around the shoulders of Trixie, the barmaid from the Black Bull, and she in turn had a slender arm around his waist. Trixie was the daughter of two estate workers up at the Manor. Sue, her mother, was a milkmaid, or milk technician as they were now called. Mark was a general labourer on the estate, or as they referred to him frequently, a 'good for nothing'. He was clearly good for something though, for the pair had given birth to the most delightfully attractive daughter. Trixie was about ninteen years old and had been a barmaid at the Black Bull for around six months. The customers had quickly grown to love being served their ale by this smiling teen.
She was petite and slender with an open and innocent face that made her look years younger. She sported fair hair that dangled in plaits and she had well developed breasts, very well developed breasts. The landlord, Delroy, had a dress code for his bar staff. The men wore black trousers, lace fronted white shirts, and multi-coloured waistcoats. The girls were dressed in lace trimmed peasant smocks, worn 'off the shoulder' and exposing lots of bust, with short, black, pleated skirts. Sally had seen many a customer gazing down Trixie's cleavage past the lace and frills and fantasising, just as Tom was doing now. Though it was looking, in this case, that Tom's fantasies were about to come true.
The door was swinging closed when it opened again and a man clumsily staggered in and pushed it shut. It was Mark.
"Hey Sally!" he grinned. "Great to see you!" He then gave a great, boozy, belch. Sally looked at Tom, with a bemused expression, her eyes demanding an explanation.
Tom shrugged his shoulders, "Trixie has agreed to spend the night. I'm gonna give her a good seeing to!" His voice was slightly blurry from drink. Trixie pulled her little, lithe, body closer to him and giggled. Her head barely came up to his armpit.
"What about me?" whispered Sally, watching her bedtime sex slipping away as her petite competition pouted up at her husband.
"We," Tom indicated Trixie and himself. "Well we thought you could take her Dad into the guest room and keep him warm."
Tom waved his hand at Mark, who stood there swaying slightly. Sally looked at Trixie who was smiling up at her from under Tom's arm. Trixie's face always lit up when she smiled, going in an instant from slightly grumpy teenager, to delightful little girl. It was impossible for Sally to stay angry, the teen was like a naughty kitten. When she was smiling at you one look from Trixie's big round blue eyes and you would forgive her anything.
The result of that beaming smile was that Tom and Trixie disappeared upstairs and into the master bedroom. And Sally followed, guiding Mark up the stairs and into the spare room.
He stood, uncertain, at the bottom of the bed, then spoke, "I need a piss."
Sally told him the way to the bathroom, even he couldn't miss it, she thought. Then she turned down the sheets and realised they were still stained from earlier activities. Confident that Mark would never notice the stains in the state he was in she stripped off her nightdress and lay with her back on the pillows and her legs spread wide. She ran her fingers up and down her crack, to get some lubrication flowing, and then, as Mark returned from his ablutions, she pulled her cunt lips wide with both hands.
She couldn't have physically been more inviting, but for good measure said, "Come and give me a good fuck, you hunk!" This was said in the deepest, sexiest, lusty voice she could manage.
