Devon Cream

by Aishling Morgan

  Now eager for her own pleasure, Octavia sank down, squatting across Polly’s chest so that her thighs were in contact with the huge breasts. She could feel the wet of the milk and her quim was gaping over Polly’s cleavage. More milk splashed into Polly’s hair and over her face, then Octavia had put a nipple into Polly’s mouth. Polly began to suckle, taking milk from Octavia’s nipple and rubbing at herself faster and harder. Feeling wonderfully rude, Octavia gave both her breasts a firm squeeze, filling Polly’s mouth with one and spraying milk about at random with the other. Her quim was gaping, her bladder full and, as Polly’s muscles began to spasm, Octavia let go of herself.

  The pee burst from her quim, splashing on Polly’s breasts and belly, then full in her face as Octavia rose and directed the jet higher. Polly opened her mouth, allowing it to fill with pee, swallowing the mouthful, only for it to fill again and run from the edges to pour down over her chest. Octavia sank down and they came together in a welter of milk, urine and each other’s juice, licking, kissing and probing without thought for anything but the pleasure they were taking in one another. Octavia was still peeing, and it gushed and splashed between their bodies, soaking them and the rock beneath. Both girls were also running milk from their breasts as they hugged.

  Polly had stopped masturbating when Octavia had sat on her, despite being at the edge of orgasm. Octavia was now on top of Polly and turning, presenting her bottom to her lover’s face and the last dribble of pee ran from her quim. Polly licked it up, then buried her face in Octavia’s cunt. Octavia returned the favour and they began to lick each other, each holding the other’s thighs apart and lapping indiscriminately at quims and bottom-slits, tasting milk, pee, sweat and juice until once more Polly started to come.

  This time the orgasm ran its course, full in Octavia’s face, with Polly’s thighs locked on her head and a tongue in her bottom-hole. Octavia kept licking, applying herself to her lover’s clitoris until she was sure Polly’s climax was complete. Only then did she relax, cuddling her face into the soft curls of Polly’s mound as a gentle, thank-you kiss was planted on her quim.

  Once more they went into the pool, laughing and bright-eyed with pleasure, to wash themselves clean. Their dresses were still among the rocks, and they had to climb the slope to retrieve them. Once there they dried themselves, using Polly’s petticoats as impromptu towels, then dressed and set off for the farm. Octavia felt blissfully happy, sexually fulfilled and content in every way, save for a measure of discomfort in her somewhat overstretched bottom-hole.

  ‘We should christen the new privies,’ she laughed as they reached the wall that formed the farm border.

  ‘Only the ladies, I would hope!’ Polly rejoined in mock outrage. ‘And I’m first, in any case!’

  ‘Hey!’ Octavia protested, but Polly had already begun to run down the moonlit field towards the buildings.

  Jervis lay still in the darkness of the sump. Since the departure of his friends, he had been in pitch blackness and utter silence. Now came noises, voices, footsteps, the sound of doors being quietly opened. Then a dull orange gleam appeared at the rim of the bowl above his head. A voice sounded again – Polly’s. He opened his mouth to call out, only to think better of it. Polly Endicott, he was sure, would not release him from such a predicament until she had taken full advantage of his helplessness. Indeed, to make her aware of his presence could only make matters worse.

  Steeling himself, he fought down the humiliating urge to try and masturbate over what was undoubtedly about to happen to him. Then the light became brighter, only to dim again as a large, female bottom was lowered on to the seat above his face. The candle light, although dim, showed every detail: the broad, white buttocks, the chubby thighs, the plump lips of her quim, the puckered hole of her anus. He could do nothing, only stare in horror at the sight. Then a spray of urine burst from her pee-hole and he was forced to shut his eyes. It caught him full in the face, hot, wet and acrid, yet infused with the smell of girl. Some splashed up his nose, making him gasp and immediately get his mouth filled for his trouble.

  Gagging and spluttering, he spat out his mouthful, but the pee was still coming and he was forced to keep his eyes screwed up and his breath held until the stream had died to a dribble, then stopped. Polly shook her bottom, dislodging a last few drops to fall on to his face. She rose, providing him with a last view of her full, bare moon, then stepped away as her skirts fell to cover her.

  Jervis took a deep, pee-scented breath. To his deep shame, his cock was hard inside his trousers; he knew that, had he not been so tightly bound, he would have been unable to prevent himself from masturbating. The light had dimmed but not gone and now brightened again. He heard Octavia’s voice, a laughing joke about being desperate. The door clanged shut and the rear of Octavia’s skirts appeared, then her bare bottom as she lifted her dress. Reaching beneath herself, she spread her bottom wide and Jervis’s eyes opened in horror as her anus began to evert.

  Epilogue

  Alice Challacombe sat on the wall above Erme Head Farm with an expression of irritation on her face. At seventeen, she had all of her mother’s beauty and rather more height, also a wilful personality with more than a touch of her father’s rascality. After the thrills and companionship of school, the farm seemed somewhat dull, and those rules and restrictions which she had accepted as a child now seemed arbitrary or foolish. Particularly annoying was the interdiction against visiting Ermecombe village. Her mother enforced it far more forcibly than other rules, yet would never explain why. Instead she would be told that they knew best, an answer that she no longer considered acceptable.

  The rule was now particularly irksome because at Ermecombe was Sophie Causey’s dress shop. Many of her friends at school knew of it, even some who lived as far away as Plymouth and Taunton: but she, who lived virtually next door to it, was forbidden to visit. With the wedding of Polly Endicott to Richard Haldon approaching, it was essential that she have a new dress, and it was equally essential that she chose it herself. Her school friends spoke of all sorts of daring new fashions, while if the choice was left to her mother she would end up in some fancy confection of ribbons and lace, looking more like Little Bo Peep than a modern girl.

  In the farmyard below, her mother was bringing out a tray laden with tea, scones, cake, clotted cream, butter and three sorts of jam. The group of day-trippers for whom this was intended were looking at it with expressions that reminded Alice of a herd of pigs watching their trough filled with slops. The colonel sat to one side, talking to one of the men in a manner that Alice knew meant they were swapping war reminiscences. Nobody was paying her the least attention, nor were they likely to be for some time.

  Reaching a sudden decision, Alice slipped from the wall and ran sure-footed down through the orchard. Entering the house by the back, she ran upstairs and into her room, where she took up a large china pig that stood on the mantelpiece. A knife served to extract a number of coins from within the pig. These she placed in a purse.

  Leaving the way she had come, she climbed back up to the top of the orchard and then began to make her way around the boundary wall of the farm and up on to the hill that overlooked it and the track leading to Ermecombe. Flanking the hill so as to keep herself hidden, she made quick progress down to the track and set off towards the village, now smiling and thoroughly pleased with herself at the ease with which she had evaded her mother.

  Half walking, half skipping, she covered the three miles to Ermecombe in very little time. The village was much as she had expected, a jumble of crooked streets with a small square and a broader main street, unremarkable and entirely unthreatening. There was no difficulty in identifying Sophie Causey’s shop. It stood next to the hotel, a broad, doubled-bayed establishment with the windows full of dresses.

  Alice entered and was greeted by a handsome middle-aged woman who proved to be Sophie Causey herself. Despite a curious nervousness and a tendency to glance towards the door, Sophie was both friendly and helpful. So
on Alice had selected a beautiful party frock in a shimmering green material. As she was paying for this, Sophie looked up suddenly over Alice’s shoulder and gave a little squeak of alarm.

  Surprised by Sophie’s evident shock, Alice turned. Three women stood just inside the doorway, one tall and broad, one short and plump, one large in every dimension. All were elderly, but full of rude, powerful health. Unsure as to what was happening, Alice gave them a polite nod.

  ‘Scandalous!’ the tallest uttered.

  ‘An outrage, Mrs Arrish!’ the small one agreed.

  ‘A proper disgrace, Mrs Apcott!’ the fat one put in.

  ‘Well, I think we know what to do about it!’ the one who had been addressed as Mrs Arrish said.

  In the next instant, Alice had been taken firmly by the hand and was being pulled towards one of the chairs intended for waiting customers. Mrs Arrish sat down in this, bringing the unfortunate Alice behind her. Too shocked to resist, she allowed herself to be pulled forwards. Then, only as she found herself coming down across the appalling woman’s knee did she realise what was happening. She was going to be spanked, spanked in public and spanked by a woman she had never seen before in her life!

  ‘No, no!’ she squealed. ‘There must be a mistake! You must want someone else!’

  ‘You’d think she might have the decency to take it meek!’ Mrs Arrish declared.

  ‘Disgusting, that’s what it is, Mrs Arrish,’ Mrs Apcott stated. ‘Spank her well.’

  ‘I certainly intend to, Mrs Apcott,’ Mrs Arrish answered. ‘Now, let’s have this silly little skirt up. My, the things young girls do wear today. It’s enough to merit a spanking in itself.’

  To her utter chagrin, Alice’s skirt was turned up, exposing the brief gingham drawers she had chosen so as not to spoil the line of her new dress. The sight of these caused fresh remarks on her sense of decency. They were then unbuttoned and pulled open to expose her bare bottom, then pulled down her legs.

  Then she was spanked. Each of the women took turns to smack her cheeks, all the while reviling her but never once explaining why. Like any girl in her position, she kicked and squealed and made a fuss, but this only provoked yet harder slaps and yet more vigorous condemnation of her character. Finally she was let up. Her bottom was burning and her quim so wet that the juice had begun to run down her thighs, but her sole desire was to get away from the lunatics who had spanked her for nothing. She made to run from the shop, but unfortunately her drawers were still around her ankles and she tripped, falling headlong to land with her bare red bottom stuck up in the air. As she lay there with everything showing, one thought was uppermost in her mind – why?