Geoff:
retired materials scientist. Mid-sixties. 5 foot 10 inch, ex amateur
rugby player, still swims, runs and walks to keep fit. More than adequately
equipped to satisfy his wife.
Marie:
retired modern languages lecturer. Same age as her husband, Geoff. 5 foot
2 inch voluptuous build, with D cup tits and proportionate bum and hips.
Shoulder length brown hair, brown eyes and olive skin inherited from her French
grandmother.
"This must be Thursday," the line from
Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy by Douglas Adams kept echoing round in my
head. "I never could get the hang of Thursdays."
The reason for my bemusement was my wife standing in front
of me waving a small pink piece of fabric in my face shouting, "And what
do you think of these?"
Perhaps this will make more sense with a bit of context. My
name is Geoffrey, but you can call me Geoff; I don't think I need to share my
surname. I'm an ordinary retired bloke in my mid-sixties looking for peaceful
life, as if; I'm 5 foot 10, and average build although my waist has thickened a
bit since my days in the rugby club seniors' team. I still keep fit with regular
trips to the local pool and walking a few miles every day.
Godgifu found Cnut sitting by the stream, absentmindedly throwing rocks into it with a sour look on his face. She walked to his side and rested her hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry;" she said quietly.
"Why the Pindsvin sorry?" Cnut said quietly, "Afraid of Cnut the beast? Think he cut off the Pindsvin face for arguing with Cnut? You think easy? Be king to three countries?"
"And some of Sweden;" Godgifu added. "No; I don't. Half the time I can't deal with Coventry, much less Mercia. No; I meant I was sorry for assuming the worst about you. I only knew about you from stories told by people angry and hurting about what they had lost in war. After all that, I didn't even want you to be a man, much less one who's; well, goofy and likeable," she said, sitting down next to him.
"Oh good, I was afraid Sir Hulgar might skip over the mutilations at Sandwich;" Godgifu whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose between her eyes.
"So; so sorry;" Leofric said, slowly turning a greenish color.
"But, God was watching!" Sir Hulgar raged, thrusting his gnarled and scarred finger in the air. "The Danish demon defiled the blessed throne of England but a few weeks, before his own horse threw him to his death, ending forever his accursed reign!" At this point, almost all the children cheered, for indeed Sir Hulgar told the tale with such verve and animation that most people would not have believed it possible from a man who spoke mostly through grunts and threatening glares.
"Well, I won't keep you any longer. You always have so much to do, so many to please. I, myself, only have my pew plan to go over today;"
"The church seating? Why are you looking at that?"
"From what you've said, if Sir Leofric is truly Northman's brother, not to mention the Ealdorman of Twywell, we can't have him sitting just anywhere. He'll need to sit along with those of his rank; aside from you, he's probably the most notable person in town."
She lay there in the soft clover panting, her bare skin glowing in the moonlight, feeling like she had discovered something life-changing. Whether it was safe or not, Godiva loved being naked, and whatever ecstasy had just taken over her, she loved that, too. So began Godiva's life of sneaking out and briefly living a life away from the cares and responsibilities of a virtuous widow. It had saved her life.
Lady Godgifu’s life is a subject of many legends, but sourcing the most accurate narrative is still rather challenging. Some myths, while not strictly accurate, are mere simplifications of a more complexed chronology. Campfire stories often morph the facts, but maintain the nature of the legendary strong-willed woman.
In this tome, we will venture into the influence that certain Coventry monks contributed to the lore of Lady Godiva. Sir Leofric and Lady Godgifu are clearly historical figures with a vast legacy in the British Isles.
Just
before sunrise, I woke, feeling rested. Slowly, I was conscious of
Ken's erect cock between my buns; I wiggled a little bit to be sure. I
wondered if he was awake. Having raised sons myself, I know men could
get erections in their sleep. I loved the feeling of it; his hot skin
against mine. At home, we had separate beds, so this tender moment was a
treat for me.
I
lay there on the ground, my face hurt, flushed, and red from
humiliation. Despite that, I felt newly needful, my cunt tingling with
heat. I was aware of a rising arousal from deep in my subconscious. A
raw, primal lust, an urgent need to please the alpha. I was now a
worthless sex toy, nameless, only good for satisfying any random man
that Leo gave me to. My cheek stung, and my mouth had the foul taste of
the ranger's seed. But my cunt burned. I needed to get fucked again. Deb
came over and helped me up, brushing the leaves and grass from my hair.
As
I sat there looking around at the semi-nude or fully naked young
people, carefree and relaxed, I had a vague feeling in the back of my
mind, as if I were caught in a river and being gently pushed downstream,
helpless, toward deeper, treacherous waters. Leo slid over, smiled, and
put his arm around me. I looked up, but Ken hadn't noticed.
"What do you think about when your husband fucks you?" Leo asked, whispering in my ear. I was shocked.
At
any other time, even a few days ago, a question like that would have
gotten Leo slapped hard, and then my husband would have beaten his ass
to save my honor. I would have stormed off in furious indignation. But,
here, partially naked with only my guitar between me and a lustful young
man, I felt oddly submissive.
Author's note: This story revolves around a typical American small-town family in the 1970s, the quest of a couple to find themselves and reinvent their relationship; through the eyes of the housewife protagonist, April.
Even protected by a small town, the songs we listened to on the radio painted a different, more risqué version of the world:
Beginning our journey
You don't realize how much of your persona is shaped by your environment and social pressures. The music of the time seemed to suggest a looser morality than most people lived in real life, especially in a small northern town. The AM radio was ever-present, a soundtrack to our daily lives. The television reported social change from the cities and college campuses; it was the sexual revolution, the era of free love. That undertone was ever-present.
Back in our small town, neighbors put different, more conventional expectations on you. You would just seem to go along without too much thought. For instance: Ken and I married early, had kids, a family, and a textbook 70s life. As we grew our family, we took part in parent-teacher conferences, church picnics, PTA meetings, high school sports, etc. for over 20 years. I taught math as a substitute teacher.
At the Institute, Suzanne took one look at the disheveled Kyoko, her
barely covered puffy tits verging on obscene, the belly threatening to
pop more buttons off of her strained blouse, and the stunned expression
on the poor young girl’s face, and instantly understood that this was
another victim of my wild cock.
“Come on, girl, we’ll check you in and get you all taken care of. You’ll stay here until you have your baby.”
After she had led Kyoko out, Suzanne turned to me.
“Any others like that, you can bring them here. This is good for us. We
want to study your entire sexual network, your harem.” She grinned
mischievously.
This is a fantastical science fiction tale of extremes that imagines an uncontrolled lust leading to outrageous, possibly offensive or sometimes comic results. Includes themes of cheating, rape, and bizarre acts. Just imagining, don’t take it too seriously.
Chapter 1. Blame it all on Cassidy’s Big tits.
I had been in a long-term relationship with Lisa for a couple of years. Once we moved in together, our relationship settled into a bit of rut. Lisa could pass for attractive if she put effort into it, but the truth was, she was fundamentally plain. An average face and an average body. And domesticity revealed an unpleasant nagging side of her character, occasionally crossing over into downright bitchiness.
Once Kara had come down,
panting as her cheek pressed against my abdomen, she turned and looked up at
me. "That's it, right? No going back now for either of us."
"That's true," I
said. "Not that I'd want to consider an alternative even if there as
one."
Kara sat up and leaned over,
kissing me. "That means nothing can get in between us again," she
said, looking at me with a fervent desire. "Nothing ever should have, but
now I have you and I'm not letting go."
I
got my pants off, and she grinned at me and flicked her fingers, so I
took off my shirt as well and let her see me in just my briefs. Her eyes
roamed my body, not quite hungrily but definitely appreciative. "Nice,"
she said. "A little hairier than I'm used to, but I guess that goes
with the name."
It
was my turn to snort and I shook my head with a grin. Then I lowered my
briefs and she sniffed in a breath. My cock wasn't hard yet, only sort
of just starting to get there so it was heavy with blood flow but
drooping forward.
Otherwise, Leo tried to help
ease the tension by talking, telling stories to the two women about when he and
Harri had lived in Portland, how much of a disaster the two of them had been as
'city boys' and how much things had fallen into place when they'd moved out to
the country. Dani helped out, talking about the differences between city living
in California and Australia, and living outside of a city when she was growing
up back home. Much of the time, even though they didn't want to admit it, their
eyes were roving the tree line at the end of the parking lot towards the
driveway and the unseen highway beyond the trees.
Leo made a point that I
couldn't really argue with; if the roles were reversed, there was no way that I
wouldn't feel guilty. And the fact was, we didn't know how many of the militia
there would be and more guns pointing down range would make a difference.
On the other hand, a lack of
experience could hurt us almost as much. I hadn't said it to Kyla or Vanessa,
but I'd been tempted to ask if anyone on the construction crews had military
experience, or were just willing to come along. But putting inexperienced
volunteers at risk was one thing; putting them at risk when they were also partnered
with someone else was another.
Once I was inside, I let out
a deep breath and closed my eyes while she couldn't see me. I wanted to tell
her I could get her a dose right now. I wanted to tell her I would love her
just like I did when we were teenagers, and we could pick up where we left off.
For all that Erica was judgmental of her, I knew they would get along after
things got settled. They were similar in a lot of ways, but different in other
important ones.
I wanted to tell, but I knew
what it would mean for me to offer it to her right now. It would mean, in her
eyes, that I was giving up on the rest of the people in need. It would look
like I was just trying to scoop her up like the hand of God and deus ex machina
her survival.
Sliding out of my truck, I
took a moment to try and just absorb the sounds and smells of the forest. Out
here, without the cut crew for the utility road working, I was as far from any
workers as I was likely to get on my old family land. I could almost pretend to
feel normal. Shaking my head, I opened my eyes and went to the raider truck.
It was an old piece of shit,
but it was a Toyota so it was the kind of old piece of shit that could run for
ages and go through a ton of abuse. I'd seen plenty of worse-off-looking Toyota
trucks being put to use overseas by civilians, terrorist cells and everyone in
between.
"I'm sorry for
earlier," Kyla said. It was late, well after dinner, and the return of the
overcast sky had the evening hour darkening quickly. She'd asked me to come on
a walk with her so we'd laced up our hiking boots and headed out with jackets
and flashlights. Even before the construction I knew most of the trails by
heart but would have brought a light anyways, now half of the trails were gone
and we couldn't walk fifty yards without spotting one of the road cuts through
the trees, but it was still worth being safe.
We were walking hand in hand
and hadn't gone too far before she'd said what she'd been holding onto.
I spotted the Tribal Police
cruiser ahead of me and it flashed its daytime lights to signal me over into
the parking lot for the little general store it was parked in front of. Making
the turn in, I pulled up so that we were window to window though I was looking
down at the much older cruiser that looked like it might have been purchased
third-hand about a decade and a half ago.
"So you're the new
Sheriff we heard about, huh?" said the woman inside. She was young; or
younger than Erica and me, but likely had a year or two on Kyla, and was pretty
in a soft sort of way. But she also looked a lot more official than Kyla or I
in her brown uniform and full rig of equipment.
"Alright, Black,"
the State Trooper Sergeant mumbled. "Come on. Meeting time."
The clanking of the keys in
the cell doors was a metallic knife in my ears. I hadn't been able to get any
sleep sitting in the cell in the back of the State Trooper outpost, and judging
by the light beaming in from the window high on the wall it had to be
mid-morning by now.
