After the Pantomime. Continue...
'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.
Wendy
immediately felt embarrassed, and tried to close her thighs, as she looked over
her shoulder to see Alice disappearing through the door into the other bar, but
it was obviously too late, and no doubt her friend had seen the activities going
on. Alice was a good friend, though, and they had been through a lot together
over the years, and there were no secrets between them, so Wendy wasn't too
worried and knew that her 'display' wouldn't go too much further.
After the Pantomime. Continue...
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