A Yank in the outhouse

Harriet nodded her head, as if appreciating the question.

“It’s suddenly become a whole new world, Sarah. A whole new country anyway. You know how it’s always been in England, the aristocracy and the landowners have always had the real power – and if you weren’t born and bred in their own little circles you were always a second rater, no matter how hard you worked or how good you were. But now we’re suddenly getting thousands of these Yanks flooding in and you just can’t believe how rich they are. Rich as a nation, rich as individuals, many of them. Not broad acres and rent book rich but cash rich. They’ve got bundles of money burning holes in their pockets because they know they’re going to be in the fighting and maybe getting killed. All they want are good times and to hell with what it costs. So if you’ve ever wanted to make your pile while you’re young, this is your chance. We’d be delighted to have you join us.”

“Join you?”

“Sure, believe me, there’s plenty for all and thanks to Reuben we’re just starting to get organised in a big way. He wants to bring some of his friends along here for a party – I think you’d be just right to come as the second story maid. I can even get you a special costume to wear.”

She was laughing at me with her eyes but she was serious too. “Listen, Sarah, if you come to one of Reuben’s parties dressed in the right way and carrying a collection plate you could end up buying your own house in that mouldy old village. You’ve got a lovely smile – it could be a smile that sets you up for smiling for the rest of your life.”

That struck a chord. My family, like many others, lived in a tied cottage – a cottage that belonged to the farm my dad worked for. If he lost his job he lost his home as well, a situation that always gave the farmers the whip hand when dealing with troublesome workers. Nobody could ever call my father a troublesome worker but it had always a sore point with me. Basically, tithed workers were no better off than Negro cotton pickers living in plantation cabins in the days of slavery. The prospect of being able to buy a way out of that trap was enough to get my undivided attention. Or at least it would have been at almost any other time – only Reuben walked back in just then.

As a natural reaction I covered my nipples up with my hands, something he hardly seemed to notice. A white belt was slung over one of his massive shoulders and around his chest like a bandoleer, a holster hanging off it and the butt of the pistol sticking out of the top of the holster. It was just like the cinema again, like one of the Mexican bandits you saw in the cowboy films. I felt like Dorothy in reverse – I’d somehow clicked my heels and we must be in Kansas. I wondered if there were Mexican bandits in Kansas.

“Goddamn those stupid bastards I have working for me!” Reuben’s smile had faded into a look of anger which frightened me. He seemed to realise that and to reassure me.

“Sorry, Sarah, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ve been checking on things in London and I guess I’ve got a problem.”

“What’s wrong?” Susan asked him with concern in her voice.

“Two of my sergeants were doing street familiarization with a London bobby. They’d parked up near Claridge’s while the limey cop went for one of his usual limey tea breaks. So my two guys were sitting in their jeep and there’s a maroon Rolls-Royce parked outside the hotel across the road with an ATS officer inside it. Very young, not bad looking apparently. So she gets out of the Rolls and walks over to the jeep and asks my two half wits how they like England. OK, one half wit then, because one of the guys is very polite and says he likes it a lot. But sergeant Hermann Zeitler, he tells this female limey officer they should cut the cables on the barrage balloons and let the whole goddamned island sink into the sea. So she gives him a real long hard look and goes back to the Rolls. Just then the cop comes back and asks them if they knew who they’d been talking to.”

“Some Duchess?” Susan guessed.

“Some Duchess! That fuckwit Zeitler, he’s only gone and told off Princess Elizabeth of England!
If she complains the shit is really going to hit the fan. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if Eisenhower was still around but now he’s in North Africa and the senior American officer left in London is General John H. Lee. That strutting turkey will just love it if the US Ambassador to the Court of Saint James turns up in his office complaining that Major Reuben Steele’s military police company have been insulting the british royal family.”

“It’s OK,” Harriet said. “I bet the Princess won’t say anything about it. She’ll be like the rest of us, too glad to see you people here to help us to worry about a small thing like that. My advice would be to write to her, apologise, and say that your man only answered the way he did because he was feeling homesick. And maybe send her a gift of some kind as well.”

“What the hell sort of present do you give a Princess?”

“Nothing to her, perhaps, but if she’s in the army you could donate something to her unit. A film projector and some of the latest Hollywood films — musicals would be good. Anything at all except war films — we’re all fed up with the war over here.”

“Good thinking, Harriet. I’ll do just that. As for Sergeant Zeitler, I’ve got an ideal transfer arranged for him. If he doesn’t like this island we’ll send him to one where he’ll have real trouble finding any princesses to mouth off at.”

“Where’s that then, Reuben?”

“A nice little tropical resort in the South Pacific called Guadalcanal. I’ve a feeling that Zeitler won’t be there too long before he’s wishing like hell he was back pulling duty outside Claridge’s.”

“Never mind, we’ll take your mind off your worries,” Susan said brightly. “Won’t we, Sarah?”

“What do you mean?” I asked her and she smiled.

“I think we can lift that skirt just a teensy weensy touch more, can’t we, Susan?”

Susan put her hands on the handle: “Hey, hey and a up she rises, early in the morning”.

Harriet’s hand dropped to the front of Reuben’s towel and stroked his pizzle. “I think we might have something here that’s about to rise as well.”

The Yank grinned and plucked the towel from his waist. His cock twitched as Harriet touched it, like the head of a sleeping python being roused. The length of flesh seemed almost independent of Reuben somehow — he and Harriet were both looking down at it as if neither of them were quite sure of what it was going to do next. Then he carefully folded the towel in a long strip and gave me a smile which seemed to be as slow growing as what was stirring at his groin.

“Sarah, I guess you’ve heard about Sir Walter Raleigh spreading his cloak in front of Queen Elizabeth. Now you’re going to have a man spread a towel for you. No need to get frightened, I’m not going to hurt you any.”

I was so nervous I didn’t know whether to scream or not as he laid the towel on the brick floor in front of my feet. I was puzzled as well, not knowing what he meant to do, even more so when he knelt down on the towel, his face only a few inches from the hem of my skirt. He swirled one of his fingers around as a signal to Sarah and she turned the handle as far as she could. I was pinned right gack against the mangle, up on the tips of my toes, with my own small patch of brown hair openly exposed and Reuben’s breath stirring them. I saw his tongue dart forward and press against the junction at the top of my legs. The wriggling length of hot skin went further underneath me as he tilted his head back, his eyes staring at my face in humor as he lapped against most private places like a cow feeding off a salt lick. Both of the other women were watching me as though I was was some kind of a laboratory experiment, some kind of Frankenstein about to come to life.

Not that that was far from the truth, and it was Reuben who was whipping up the storm where the electricity was coming from.

I found myself wailing out his name as my clit began to swell like a spring bud. There was no way I could stop myself twitching and gasping in response, my bare bum rubbing up against the wooden rollers of the mangle. Looking down at the Yank’s smiling eyes I knew I was seeing the man who was going to be my first lover, the one who was going to change me from a girl into a woman. My hands came down and rubbed his bristly scalp in encouragement as I literally melted on top of Reuben’s face, my cunt as damp as the tongue rubbing against it. Henrietta and Susan grabbed at my exposed nipples, tweaking and plucking both of them with crazy smiles on their faces, like the Marx brothers trying to tune a harp.

My head went back and I stared up wide eyed into the roof rafters, letting out a shriek which echoed amongst them. Although it must have been my imagination I thought I saw the clouds of steam underneath the tiles quivering at the sound waves.

Harriet’s face was close to mine, watching with amusement and interest: “How do you feel now, Miss Sunday School Teacher?”

I groaned. “Like a Guy Fawkes dummy on top of a burning bonfire!”

“Then it must be about time for the fireworks to start.”

She began nibbling on one of my ears and then Susan did the same from the other side, just as Reuben’s huge hands clasped my bottom. One of his fingers jabbed straight up between both of my buttocks and I wailed out again. Reuben leaned back, his hands still holding me in a crushing embrace.

“Noisy little bitch, isn’t she? I wonder if she’ll be able to keep it up when I introduce her to the rest of the guys.”

“You think she’ll be able to stand the strain?” Susan answered in a jokey kind of voice,

He stood up and casually waggled the huge up roll of swollen skin curving up in front of his loins. “I guess we’ll have to give her a stretch test to find out. Roll a sheath on for me, ladies.”

They couldn’t get down on their knees fast enough, as if they were worshipping his maleness, working hand over hand to stretch the sheath over the length of a cock that seemed more the right size for a bull than a man. I’d never been near so frightened of anything in my life — being shagged for the first time was bad enough, being shagged for the first time in front of an audience was worse, but being shagged by a tool like that! I was going to die in agony impaled on an organ which was never meant to be used on a human woman …

The only slight consolation was that Harriet had already been used by it and survived: on the other hand, our respectable Mrs Harrington had probably had more men inside her already than the changing rooms at Wembley Stadium. Reuben had been following a well beaten path, not cutting a new one. It was no use, I was as dead as Lord Kitchener, and for the same reason – torpedoed to death.

No sooner was the sheath on than Susan was checking the fit with her mouth, squatting on her haunches and snorting through her nose as she sucked on his cock, one hand cupping his balls.
Her other hand was up between Harriet’s thighs as that ‘lady’ licked the matted hair on Reuben’s chest.

“Yeah, maybe you girls would be interested in hearing that a bunch of my guys will be here soon for a work break. I think what we’ll do is to dump little Sarah here in the copper to steam for a while in a hot bath. When my guys arrive they can strip off at the door, collect a bar of soap each and gather around the copper to give her a real thorough washing. I guess we might get some fun out of watching that.”

Harriet giggled and looked at me as if it was a great joke I should be sharing in while Susan sounded as if she was choking. She had to stop sucking on Reuben’s cock before she could recover her breath.

“OK, ladies, one leg each, high and wide, and let’s see if the Sunday School teacher knows any good prayers.

The two ladies of Mill Cottage seemed quite calm as they prepared for my ravishment by lifting up my legs as I cried out and held onto the frame of the mangle underneath me. “Put her knee over your offside shoulder,” Harriet said. “She’s not very heavy but we might be here for a while and it’s easier to support her weight like this”

It was crazy, it was impossible, I was hanging in mid air with my legs splayed out against two naked womens’ breasts, my calves pressing against their sweating skin as a nude man moved closer holding onto a bulging erection he was preparing to ram into me. Then I felt the tip of it stroking my cunt lips and went into a spasm of trembling. And then I screamed more loudly than I ever had in my life as I was joined to Reuben. Well, perched on Reuben’s cock really, but certainly with his helmet inside me an inch or so and it felt more like God’s work than anything I’d ever learned in church.

He leaned forward, put his mouth against mine and pushed his tongue through my lips. I gladly met him halfway, my tongue as active as his. He came closer and my own weight slid me further down his cock, setting me whinnying into his mouth like a hard ridden mare with a foam spattered bridle. I had to jerk my mouth back, suck in air and let it out in bubbling moans of despair, knowing that if there was no end to this invasion of my body soon I would be past help.

Harriet’s sardonic voice was in my ear: “Any last words from the scriptures, Sarah?”

“Oh God! Oh God! He maketh my deep to boil like a pot!”

Reuben’s hands were holding my waist, he was preparing to pull me down completely and utterly onto him, I was doomed …

Reuben barked with laughter: “I was a stranger, and yet ye took me in.”

There was an explosion inside me, setting off yelps of forlorn despair which shot up high like skyrockets to burst amongst the steam and the rafters and the tiles. A pair of yellow eyes were glittering down angrily, a small barn owl hunched up in its feathers, weary of trying to sleep above this human hullaboo. I found myself laughing uncontrollably that such a wise bird had picked this place above all to seek a peaceful day — we’d both been so wrong about that.

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