O'Hare's Irish Tea Rooms was a popular stop on the road to Dinglebury. The vivid green frontage shouted the ethnicity of both the owner and the fare.
Time for Tea!"
The Hatter made no apologies for the stop. Tea was a necessary part of his existence, as vital as his other two main occupations, breathing and buggery.
"Do they serve coffee?"
Hatter looked at Alice with a disdainful sneer.
"We are in Wonderland not some fucking third world country!"
Alice felt suitably admonished and decided to keep her socially disparaging preferences to herself.
"I do really like tea."
"Indian or China?"
Doreen had fallen off of her buggy hard enough to wake up momentarily.
"Well either I suppose."
"Green or Black?"
Celia couldn't resist adding to Alice's obvious feelings of discomfort.
"I just like it with lots of sugar and ice."
"Ice? ICE? Who the bejesus is that ignorant colleen?" Patrick O'Hare stood three foot two in his best stepping shoes. Dressed from head to foot in forty shades of green he was remarkable only in the fact that his skin was as black as coal dust.
"No one in my establishment will get ice with their tea. If a hot strong brew isn't good enough for your kind there's no seats available!"
"Sorry Patrick she is still a little tipped. They had her in the Red Queens dairy."
"Oh it's a cow she is! Why didn't you say Hatter my deario."
"I am not a cow! Stop calling me a cow!"
Alice was feeling very put upon.
"Oh your definitely a cow!"
Celia reached around from behind and squeezed Alice's elongated nipples very hard. Sure enough a steady stream of milk shot out to everyone's amusement. Alice orgasmed hard and automatically bounced three times on Celia's strap-on for good measure producing a nice squirt of estrogen loaded liqueur.
"Spicy little tart isn't she! Come in you all we just made fresh soda bread."
Alice struggled to her feet, her ass releasing Celia's strap-on with a resounding smack.
"Oh fuck not again!"
Alice squatted quickly and with claps of accompanying thunder evacuated totally.
"Bucket of water to the front pronto Mary. There's a pile of shit the height of Dinglebury Peak."
The interior was crowded, so full that when Hatter opened the door three Rugby Union players wearing shamrock decorated shirts and nothing else fell out into the courtyard. There was a loud blast on a whistle from within and a black shirted referee appeared on the threshold.
"If you boys don't get back into the lineout straight away there will be a penalty!"
The three picked themselves up, brushed the dust from their partially erect tackle and pushed back passed the referee to rejoin the game.
"You sure there is going to be a free table inside Patrick?"
Hatter was obviously getting very agitated. The thought of missing his cuppa was having serious physical and psychological repercussions.
"Calm yourself Hatter me darling' I'll make room in the back recess away from the playing field. There's a table that will do you fine. You can enjoy watching the cycle races while you're waiting for your brew!"
Hatter stopped twitching quite so alarmingly and having kicked Doreen hard in the stomach to make her stir followed Patrick with his motley crew through the raucous spectators. Alice tried to make out what was happening in the game but couldn't make any sense of the rules. The players were standing in a line out ready for the throw in but seemed more concerned with penetrating the player in front than paying any attention to the ball. Both the men in the lead position seemed to be frantically aiming to cause a change of formation and were shouting very loudly in high pitched squeaky voices.
"Form a circle, please girls lets form a circle!"
The noise of fast peddling and low moans greeted them as they seated themselves at the empty table. The chairs were comfortable enough, wooden and well worn and with a slight swivel action allowing patrons to view the line of exercise bicycles perfectly.
The eight participants in the time trial were stripped from ankle to waist, their torsos slick with perspiration as they rotated the cranks as fast as was humanly possible. Each was hunched forward in a perfect blend of effort and ecstasy as large dildos were driven in and out of their gaping vaginas by connecting arms attached to the rear drive by oval flywheels.
The judge watched the riders closely monitoring their progress towards the climax that would spell victory.
"How does he know they don't fake their orgasm?"
Celia looked at Alice with shock.
"Cumming isn't enough to win. They have to squirt!"
As Celia finished her sentence the third girl in line screamed and produced a torrent of liquid that streamed to the sawdust sprinkled floor below.
"Stop peddling."
The judges voice was commanding, but even so some of the girls were way to close to release to stop willingly.
"STOP PEDDLING."