After the Pantomime

Originally issued under my New Forester name, and then again under my Hopebeach name, a number of requests have prompted me to re-issue under my current name of Rockycoveboy. Hope you enjoy again.

*****

'Oh no it isn't.' Oh yes it is.' Oh no it isn't.' Oh yes it is.'

The audience screamed at Robin Hood up on the stage as the pantomime cow behind him waddled about the stage, its udders swinging to and fro with great gusto. At last, of course, Robin looked round and, surprise, surprise, spotted the cow and looked suitably shocked.

'What an earth are you doing here, Daisy?' Robin shouted at the animal.

'It's milking time, Robin, and there's no-one at the farm to do it--do you think you could milk me today-I'm really bursting,' and the audience shouted their encouragement, egging on the new plot.

The children's show had been earlier in the day, but now the audience was restricted to the local village adults, and certain lines in the script had been 'adjusted' to add to the fun. 'Robin' knew exactly how it went as 'he' had written it. 'He' naturally was the leading lady in the cast-a statuesque woman in her late thirties, still with a magnificent figure, and using the opportunity to show it off to its most wonderful advantage.

Her Sherwood Forest uniform was a very short, green tunic, reaching only to just below the tops of her legs, to show off her magnificent thighs, in flesh coloured tights, tight across her breasts to accentuate the contours of the two firm mounds, high-heeled green boots finishing just above the knee and, of course, the three-cornered green hat over her short, dark hair. She looked magnificently sexy.

'Do you think I should milk poor old Daisy, everybody,' and there was just Daisy and Robin on the little stage.

'Yeeeeeessss!,' and the noise could be heard at the other end of the village.

'Do you really think I should milk her?'

'Yeeeeeees,' they screamed again.

'Oh, alright then.'

Robin was actually Wendy, a married woman of 38, with three children, and her husband was the end half of Daisy, so she had no qualms about giving the village audience something to shout about. She rubbed her hands as she walked round to the rear of the cow—

'Must warm them up a bit first, don't you think,' she laughed.

She turned heads whenever she went into the local shop, or picked the children up from school, and the local male population, of every age, often muttered to one another that they'd 'like to give her a good seeing-to' whenever she appeared. She well knew this, and this was her one night of the year when she could let herself go and give them some innocent fun, and tantalise them briefly in the jovial run up to Christmas.

She stroked Daisy's backside and tail, and then she bent over, tantalisingly slowly, with her back to the audience, and the rear of her wonderful thighs came fully into view all the way up to the little green panties under the tunic. She placed the plastic bucket on the floor under the udders, and then made great play of gently feeling all round Daisy's milking 'equipment'. Wolf whistles emanated from all round the room, and Robin was caught up in the excitement and fun of it all, as she continued the gentle rubbing and then started to pull on the teats.

Her hand strayed every now and then a little higher, to feel the 'manhood' that was her husband Jim in the rear of the cow. Although the marriage was going through a 'difficult' patch at present, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to have her fun, and keep the audience in a ribald state for a few minutes more, so Robin continued to milk the teats with one hand, while at the same time her other hand was gently but firmly running up and down the growing cock that she found in the material. 'Daisy's' backside swayed gently to the rhythm of the stroking, obviously enjoying the sensation, and the audience was becoming wilder by the minute.

'Do you think Daisy's had enough milking, everybody,' and you can imagine the reaction from the village hall.

'Shall I carry on a bit longer, then?' As the crowd screamed more encouragement, Robin could hear a voice from the rear of the cow--

'If you stop now, I'll break your bloody neck,' and Robin realised immediately that it wasn't the voice of her husband.

Before Daisy had come onto the stage, Jim had realised what was likely to happen, and had swapped places with his colleague without giving the real reason. Sure enough, Robin had been playing with the cock of Jeff, a young man in his 20s, who lived in the village. He was big, muscular and handsome, and was home for Christmas from his job on the Scottish oil rigs.

What to do now, thought Robin. She didn't have to think twice-here was an innocent opportunity to enjoy the feel of another cock, a young, vibrant cock, one that was growing all the time under her touch, and everybody in the room was joining in the fun-except perhaps her husband, of course.

Jeff was obviously enjoying the sensation, and so Robin moved her hand and held the hard cock again, moving up and down in a sensuous fashion, all the time keeping up the pretence of the plot by pulling occasionally at the udders. Wendy was starting to feel a little randy herself, and her little pants under the green 'uniform' were beginning to feel damp as the moisture between her legs started to form.

She had seen Jeff around the village since he was about 15 years old, and he had developed into a fine looking young man, rough and ready, and probably never short of women.

Wendy's fine thighs opened a little more, giving a wonderful view of her thighs and green pants, and for a moment she grabbed the cock more tightly and just squeezed and squeezed, and then she thought she would have to let go for decency's sake. Robin stood up, looking very flushed as she turned to the audience and tried to carry on, and Daisy found it very difficult to move as she finally shuffled off the stage.

More adult fun ensued but Robin found it hard to concentrate, as all she could think about was the feel of that wonderful cock in her hand-but she was married with three children and a pillar of the community, not known for being 'loose' or overly friendly-forget it, it's Christmas and only a bit of fun.

The cast managed to get to the end of the Pantomime, and the audience gave them a number of standing ovations, and it was agreed that it all went very well. The adrenalin was flowing and everybody back-stage was buzzing, but Robin found it difficult to look Jeff in the eye when he grinned at her.

'Everybody over to the pub' someone shouted, and as it was only about 10o'clock it was agreed that a few drinks in the local village hostelry would be a suitable way to end the evening, and another success. All except Jim, of course, Wendy's husband.

'We've got to get back for the baby-sitter,' he piped up, obviously not wanting to go, and expecting Wendy to go back home with him. The star of the show, the writer and general dogsbody, was on cloud nine after so much effort, and the last thing she wanted was to go back home with her miserable sod of a husband to spend the rest of the evening with a cocoa and Match of the Day.

A brief, embarrassing 'discussion' took place between the two of them, in front of everyone else, and in the end Jim went off in a huff, his last words being-- 'Don't bloody wake me when you come in, then.'

The pub, The Waterside Inn, was the only one in the village, and was a small, but homely, little place with low ceilings, a public bar and a snug, with a warm log fire glowing in the hearth. Everybody knew everybody else in this village establishment, and it was now very busy, a lot of the pantomime audience now enjoying a night-cap. The cast had not changed from their pantomime clothes, and they all piled into the dimly lit public bar in their costumes, to a huge round of applause from the 'locals', and the bar staff were rushed off their feet trying to satisfy the dozen or so thirsty new customers.

They all shuffled around talking to one another and joking, and 'Robin' was drawing admiring glances from all round the pub, her superb thighs on view in the green high heeled boots, and her miniscule tunic, and she soon scoffed back the large brandy that someone had bought her. She was dying for the loo, and went into the even dimmer snug bar where the entrance to the toilets could be found. The snug was lit by little old candles on the window sills and on the rickety tables, and the 'seats' were old wooden benches with high backs and old cushions on them, to try and add a bit of comfort-it certainly was a 'snug' bar.

Two old men were sitting in one of the alcoves, on the wooden benches, enjoying their Saturday night pint and discussing their allotments as Wendy came out of the 'Ladies.' They had watched her grow up from a young girl in the village, and knew her to speak to on friendly and, very often, teasing terms, and as she was passing she stopped to say hello and pass a few minutes with them.

'You been in the Panto, then, young Wendy,' grinned Tom, as he eyed her lithe figure up and down. The two men were both widowers and lived close by, and the banter continued until Bill said,

'Old Tom is 68 today, you know Wendy, why don't you have a drink with us to celebrate his birthday.'

'Yes, you have a drink with me and Bill, you look as though you could do with something, after all that running about on the stage. Sit down and I'll get you one. What'll you have,' grinned Tom as he got up to go to the bar.

'Well, alright then, thank you, just one though. I'll have a brandy please,' smiled Wendy.

They had insisted that she take a seat, so she had sat down next to Bill on the high-backed wooden bench, and carried on chatting while Tom fetched her drink.

'You looking very fetching tonight, young Wendy, what with them boots and all that,' chuckled Bill, and Wendy blushed, and tried to pull her tunic down a little, but it could not hide the firm thighs that were on show as she sat next to the old man.

He, too, must have been over 65, thought Wendy, as she watched him take another sip of his pint. As Tom returned to the table, she saw that he was carrying three 'shorts' glasses and he put them down, handing Wendy her drink which was a double at least.

'You're awful Tom, I only wanted one drink, you'll be getting me drunk, you know,' and they all laughed, but instead of returning to his own seat on the other bench, Tom moved into the alcove bench next to Wendy and Bill, making it a very tight fit for all of them.

'Thank you, anyway,' said Wendy, 'and a happy birthday to you,' and all three took a swig from their spirit glasses. Wendy was caught between the two old men on the bench, and she had just been given a double brandy to drink, by widowers who had obviously been 'celebrating' the birthday for some time. She was thirsty, though, and feeling quite happy too, especially when she recalled feeling the gorgeous cock earlier in the evening, and didn't take much notice when Bill again pointed out to his friend, -

'She's looking lovely and cuddly tonight isn't she Tom, in those sexy boots, and with them long legs. Where's that husband of yours, then?'

'Oh, he's gone home to baby-sit the children-he'll probably be asleep when I get home,' laughed Wendy.

'Well, that's alright then, isn't it. No need to rush away then, is there?'

'No, no need to go yet, it's my birthday-you stay here a little while and have a drink with us,' insisted Tom, and Wendy could see no way out anyway, as the men were pressed either side of her, and were obviously enjoying the company of this younger woman.

She was persuaded to have yet another brandy, and yet again it was a double that was brought to the table, as the banter continued between the three of them. Wendy felt quite relaxed by now and was enjoying the evening. She had put a lot of hard work into the panto over the last few months, and it had gone brilliantly, and now she was relaxing in the local pub with two of the locals that she knew of old, and she knew that her presence was bringing them enjoyment also.

The drink was making her feel bold, especially as she hadn't eaten since at least lunch-time, and when Tom asked -

'What about a birthday kiss then, Wendy,' she thought that it couldn't do any harm whatsoever, and so she turned her head towards Tom and puckered up her lips, smiling from her eyes. Tom, however, saw a wonderful opportunity, and straight way put his arm around Wendy's shoulder, and pulled her over towards him, planting his lips on hers, giggled, and then came back for more.

'You're a fine young woman, Wendy, how about a proper kiss,' and back came his mouth before she could reply, and he was holding his mouth on hers, trying to get inside it.

Wendy gave up, and decided to give the old man the thrill he'd been looking for, and she slightly opened her mouth, and darted her tongue out and between Tom's lips, before retracting it and closing her mouth once more.

'Oooh, she's a lovely kisser, Bill, and she's got lovely perfume on. One more, Wendy, just one more for my birthday,' and his arm again pulled her over to him, only this time more tightly, and nearer. His arm was round her shoulders and neck now, and she was tight into him, and then Tom moved his other arm over, to hold Wendy's other arm across her waist.

It was a good job that the snug was dimly lit, and their table and bench seats in the alcove were mostly hidden from the rest of the pub, thought Wendy. Tom held her firmly as he kissed her lips once more, only this time Wendy joined in without prompting and opened her mouth, as she was getting used to the gentle experience.

Singing was now coming from the other bar, and there certainly was an air of Christmas merriment about the place, and Wendy thought that just once a year a little fun would not go amiss, particularly as Jim had disappeared home in his usual huff.

Tom was still a strong man, but he had a warm hold, and Wendy felt quite relaxed now between the two men, as her tongue tickled the roof of Tom's mouth and undoubtedly brought thrills to the old man that he had not had for years.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her knee, stroking her through her tights, but she was engrossed in the kiss and Tom was holding both her arms. The hand continued to stroke her, and slowly it moved up her thigh. She was unable to move, as the table gave no room for manoeuvre, and all she could do was pull away from Tom's lips and turn her head to Bill.

'You naughty boy, Bill, what are you doing?'

'She's got lovely legs, Tom, really smooth and silky,' and Tom reached down also to run his hand up and down Wendy's other thigh, while still holding his other arm around her shoulders.

Wendy was trapped between the two pairs of roving hands and, of course, made half-hearted attempts to smack their hands away, but not very seriously, and after allowing Tom to french-kiss her mouth, Wendy thought that a little feel of her thighs at Christmas was nothing to get too upset about. It was a dimly lit room, they were in alcove seats with a table up close to them, most of the others were in the other bar singing, and these were two old boys she had known for most of her life, and were only playing around for a bit of fun.

What the heck thought Wendy, I'll be back feeding the children in the morning and probably suffering verbal abuse for staying out late, so enjoy the moment, she thought. The two men giggled as they held their hands on her luscious thighs and Tom piped up,-

'I've had a lovely birthday kiss from you Wendy, it's only fair that Bill has one too. After all it is Christmas,' he chuckled, and Wendy didn't really have very much option as now Bill's arm came round her shoulders to take her away from Tom. Bill, too, had kept himself in reasonable shape over the years, and he held the young woman firmly in his arm as he moved his mouth over hers and, again, Wendy felt herself opening her mouth, allowing her tongue to explore her kissing partner in a long lingering embrace.

During the passionate kiss, neither man had taken his hand from the shapely thighs and Tom took the opportunity to explore even further while Wendy was engaged with Bill.

He ran his firm, strong fingers up the thigh gently, moving it to the inside of the thigh, and tried desperately to get Wendy to open her legs just a fraction. As Wendy explored Bill's mouth, she tried hard to keep her legs clamped together as she felt the wandering fingers at the top of her legs, but Tom was persistent, and the double brandies had made her less resistant. Tom moved up and down the inside of the nylon clad thigh gently, but firmly, and even Bill's fingers were now moving up her leg as he held her mouth locked to his.

Wendy, secretly enjoying the sensations, found her resistance finally giving in, and eased her legs apart just a few inches, not wanting to give the men too much encouragement, but it was enough for Bill and Tom. With the goal now in sight, Tom ran his hand up Wendy's thigh, right to the very top where he found the little green costume pants covering the wonderful, forbidden female area that he had not been near for over 8 years, since his wife died.

He was gentle, he was soft, and his touch was one of experience, but he was vying with Bill for this most sought after spot, and, as the kissing ceased, Wendy came up for breath and found both men tantalising the area right at the top of her legs, brushing their fingers occasionally over the green material in place over her tights.

'You wicked boys, you're awful,' she scalded, but she didn't attempt to close her thighs, and just tugged at the bottom of her tunic in mock protest.

'You a sexy young thing, young Wendy,' carried on Bill, 'really sexy, isn't she Tom?' but Tom just wanted to carry on enjoying himself with this young, married mother, and pulled her over by the shoulders again for another kiss, which Wendy was happy to accept.

She had now allowed herself to really forget her position in the local village community, her responsibility as the mother of three young children, with a previously staunch and upright image. She was merry, she wanted to enjoy herself after all the hard work, and by accident she had found herself with two of the elder statesmen of the village who obviously found her enticing. It was harmless fun, she tried to convince herself, and none of them would be embarrassed when they met in the village in the future.

Wendy's open mouth was now used to the deep searching of Tom's tongue in her throat, and she was getting more pleasure herself now, so when the hands began to caress her more firmly between her legs and on her pants, she didn't overly object.

Voluntarily, she opened her thighs just a fraction wider, and felt the first fingers push under the green material of the costume pants, to feel the warmth of her tights and the very thin transparent panties that she wore. An experienced finger drew a line right up the thin material, which gave her hardly any protection as the lips of her cunt moved and opened under the pressure.

'My God,' she thought, as she realised that she was actually allowing a relative stranger access to her most intimate parts, but it was too late as she had become virtual putty in their hands, but only natural as she was a woman in the prime of her life.

Bill's hand was under the outer pants, too, caressing her tummy through the tights, and when she had extricated herself from Tom's lips, she could only rest her head into his shoulder and enjoy the explorations going on between her legs. --

'Put them down, Wendy, you don't know where they've been,' laughed a voice going by the table, and Wendy jumped in shock, and looked up as she recognised it as her friend Alice, who was returning to the main bar after a visit to the loo.