Message-ID: <7783eli$9801251941@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/7783.txt> From: Spoonbender <Theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk> Subject: The Legend 3 (nc?) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: "Theodore Spoonbender"@spoonbender.demon.co.uk Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <34ca4001.4496676@post.demon.co.uk> The Fete (Legend 3) ******************************************************************** This is the third story in the Legend Series. (c) 1997 Spoonbender. A fantasy of an adult nature. Not to be read by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are underage then don't read. Contains innuendo (An Italian Suppository! Get it? Oh well suit yourself) but very little sex. Can be freely distributed as long as it is free. If it is to archived on a fee paying archive then please email me first for permission. Please email me with comments, constructive criticism etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style, I'm still learning the craft. ********************************************************************* "You be new around 'ere then?". The speaker leaned over the fence, the straw in his mouth waggling as he talked. "Yes we're Americans from the Airbase. I'm Jim and this is my wife Judy" "Arrh!" "Er and you are?" "I be Silas, I be. Silas Merryweather". The speaker brought a hand from his pocket as if to shake on the introduction, but her merely pulled the straw from his mouth and pointed with it towards the picturesque thatched cottage about 100 yards further down the lane. "You be renting Mrs Foster's old place then?". He said "Yes that's right." For the first time in his life Jim felt like he wasn't in control. His day job was a transport pilot, flying the feisty old Charlie 130s. Ok, so it wasn't exactly top gun, but hell, he'd made full bird Colonel at 29. Some feat when his job lacked the glamour of the fighter jocks. Doing that stint on special ops had helped of course. 'Its because you deserve it', his wife had observed, smiling. Judy was always smiling. Short, vivacious, curved in all the right places, blond, bubbly, slim and sexy. Clever too! That was Judy, everything a man could ever want all in one exciting little package. Her smile slipped a half notch as she waited for the man to reply. After an age he said. "Arrh". That seemed to be the end of the conversation. So the couple bid their farewells. "Talkative sort!" observed Jim, dryly. Judy giggled. When she wasn't smiling she was giggling. It made Jim want to gather her up and eat her alive. God she was gorgeous. Jim had been stationed at RAF Alconheath (a limey airbase, supposedly, but in reality as American as Apple Pie. Maybe they thought it would fool the locals?) for only two weeks and as an officer he was entitled to rented local accomodation. He'd settled for a quaint old English thatched cottage. A house with a straw roof and walls made out of cowdung and sticks. Built back when the Mayflower was a twinkle in her architects eye.. Of course Judy loved it, even though he kept banging his head on the beams. They were determined to settle into the life of English countryfolk, so later that evening they found themselves in the local pub, the Lost Maiden. As usual Silas Merryweather propped up the bar in the snug. Normally taciturn, he had become quite loquacious when he'd described the new couple earlier. "I think she be about right. You see." So the welcome they recieved was a curious blend of warm friendliness and intense curiosity. "Will you be coming to the Fete then?" Someone asked. Jim looked at his wife. She nodded eagerly. "Yeah sure. That'd be great. Hey what are you guys all drinking then?" The legendary Yank generosity. As usual Silas was first in the queque. "What'll it be Silas?" Silas indicated the pump with the stem of his pipe. "Bitter?" "Arrrh." **************************************************** "You don't want be drinking that rubbish." Opinioned the ruddy faced young man in the too tight suit. "Try some of this." He held up a beaker of a murky brown liquid. Jim looked at dubiously, then tried a sip. Suprisingly it tasted great. "Here honey try some of this. Hey can I have another one for my wife." "Aarh that you can." They stood sipping the brew, listening to the sounds of a normal little village fete. Jim really thought they'd arrived. He was especially pleased when everyone greeted them like old friends. The brew was starting to go to his head a little and so he looked for somewhere to sit down. He asked a group of burly farmworkers if he could sit with them and they cheerfully obliged, sliding their beefy backsides up the bench until there was room for both him and Judy. He turned towards her but found she was gone. Monentarily taken aback he glanced anxiously around the room. He spotted her sitting with a group of women around her age. She smiled and waved. He relaxed. The afternoon was an amazing success in Jim's mind. The local hooch was really getting to him now and he knew he was slurring badly. But his new friends, who all seemed impervious to its deadly effects, treated everything he said like it was the most amazing thing they'd ever heard. He loved telling them about the boring taxi driver job he did every day. He threw in a bit of derring do, to spice it up a bit, embroidering his tales with every re-telling. He looked around to find Judy, but she, and the women had gone. Now the beer tent consisted of just men. In his inebriated state Jim didn't notice that one by one the men slipped out. Or that the returning men looked thoughtful before joining the miasma of bonhomie that surrounded Jim like a cloud. Later that night they steered Jim gently towards another tent out towards the edge of the field. It took him awhile to fight with the canvas and to get inside. It was dark and his new friends helped him slip out of his clothes and onto the mattress that lay there. Suddenly he felt incredibly randy when he felt a warmth moving next to where he lay. He reached across and touched a breast. She responded with a quiet moan. He'd know that moan anywhere, it was Judy. To his befuddled mind he was at home in bed getting ready to pleasure his wife. Strangely he thought he imagined someone exclaiming "Arrrh." when he pushed himself deeply inside her. ********************************************************************* They came to the next morning, groggily trying to understand where they were. Slowly they remembered. "You were insatiable last night lover." She said. "I'm incredibly sore." "Me too. Wonder what the hell it is they make that stuff out of. I'd like to ship a load stateside we'd make a fortune." "How'd we get here anyway?" "I dunno honey. Maybe the locals thought we'd had too much so they put us to bed. The reception they got from the villagers was a little cooler than it had been the day before. Jim put it down to the fact that he'd gotten himself plastered. They were still friendly enough though as they made their way, slowly, home." ********************************************************************* The harvest was a record that year and the couple were invited to a harvest supper in which they were the guests of honour. Jim was telling one of his buddies about it the next day. "Hey you live in Upper Pidley don't you?" "Sure why?" replied Jim. "They've got a curious legend about that place." "What's that then?" "The way I heard it they had to have some sort of ritual before they gather the harvest in. All to do with some witch they burnt about a thousand years ago. She cast a spell on the village and ever since then they had to sacrifice a maiden or their harvest would die in the fields. Over the years this kind of got corrupted and by the middle of last century it was down to the whole of the village having to lay some girl or other, that being the equivalent of a sacrifice I guess. This girl couldn't be any girl either, she must be a girl who hadn't lain with any man from the village before. Must have made virgins a rarity around there huh? Anyway the last I heard it all sort of died away. Though knowing some of the locals I wouldn't be surprised if something like it still didn't go on. That'd be fun huh? By the way how was the fete?" ******************************************************************** FOOTNOTE: I'm looking for a lady who enjoys my type of writing and who is prepared to collaborate with me on future stories. You will naturally share the credit, such as it is. If you are her and you want to help weave your own fantasy. Then please email me at thoedore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk Theodore Spoonbender. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/><http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>