Down on the Farm!

But there was nothing to hold on to. And it was tough on their cocks and balls, which were getting a bit of a scraping.

"I can't stand this any longer! Go on girls, help them!" said Edith, almost blinded by tears of laughter.

The women gathered underneath. They pushed up Roland and Freddie's buttocks; held their cocks and balls steady; slapped plenty of bare ass; and did other helpful things. Still no luck.

In the end, Susan had a brainwave. She cried out: "Oh dear, a wasp! ZZZzzzzzz!" This really got the nude white bottoms sweaty and wobbling!

Then the resourceful girl shrieked: "On no, it's landed on your balls!"

What a naked tizzy that caused! It galvanised Roland and Freddie into a frantic, arse-juddering scramble up the tree. Well done, gentlemen!

Sitting very gingerly on the lowest branch, the two naked tree-elves asked for instructions.

Weak with laughter, Edith executed the next stage of her plan.

"Apples grow best over water", she lied. "So you need to get to the end of the branch. But it will break if you're both on it. Freddie, you climb to the branch above.....Oooh, mind your cock, dear--!"

"OWWW!!"

"Never mind, Freddie, give it a good rub." (Cheers and rude gestures from the women below). "Now, gentlemen, just edge along the branches, just a little more..."

By now Edith had the wobbly-bottomed nude tremblers just where she wanted them! Clinging to branches which were surely about to crack. Scrotums tight with anxiety. Right above the middle of the river.

Sensing a moment of high drama, the women gathered along the river bank.

"Right", said Edith, "now, Freddie, there's an apple just above your head. Jump up for it!"

CRACK! went the branch. And down Freddie plunged. Naked, aghast, and very badly exposed, with his legs splayed.

SMACK! went Freddie's bollocks into Roland's branch. Oh, that looked ticklish!

"OWWW!!!" Roland had been squatting on his branch in a very compromising position, with his legs spread wide. Roland lost his footing, and banged his goolies hard on the branch.

CRACK! went the lower branch under the combined impact of some 350 pounds of muscle and bone.

And SPLASH! SPLASH! Two stunned naked men fell into the river!

Roland and Freddie wallowed around for a while, and then crawled out bespattered with river mud. The hysterical women helped haul them on to dry land with many an encouraging slap on the wet backsides. And in her 'confusion' Susan stuck a dandelion up Freddie's arse. (It did look pretty!)

"Well, Roland" said Edith, wiping her eyes and trying to look stern. "Now do you agree that we need a few ladders in the orchard?"

And so the day wore on, with many more naked frolics, pratfalls and cock ups. But finally it was time to go. The women shook Freddie and Roland heartily by the hand (and in some cases by other parts of the body).

But there was one more lesson to be learned!

Lesson No 4 was Make It Fun. Edith certainly had strong views about Fun. She'd always worked better in a light and friendly atmosphere. And she'd naively imagined that farming in the beautiful Kent countryside would be such a jolly experience.

But the reality had been so depressing. Farmer Cobblestones was such a dreary old bore! And how could people possibly give of their best when working such grinding, long hours?

On the other hand, today had been the most fun-packed day of Edith's life! And, though Roland and Freddie had been pretty useless, Edith noticed that the team had still achieved its daily targets. And ahead of time.

It may have been officially a day off, but the farm women had happily bustled around the naked men. It had actually been a hard day's work, but the nude slapstick had been great for team spirit.

So Edith kept Roland and Freddie behind at the end of the day. "Well gentlemen", she said, "I hope you found that informative! There is one final task, though...!"

The weary naked men sank to their knees, looking utterly dejected. Freddie's penis brushed a stinging nettle, but he didn't have the energy to squeal. And Roland just lay there gloomily on his stomach, while a Red Admiral landed on his white backside. ("A nice little moment" thought Edith. "Hold it right there, darling!")

"These banquets that you like so much", said Edith. "We're going to have one tonight. Only I'll do the cooking; you're going to wait at table; and the farmhouse staff will be the guests of honour!"

The farmhouse was run by three middle-aged ladies. Mrs Collins (Susan's mother) was the cook. Miss Dustyhole, a confirmed spinster, did the Accounts. And Mrs Smith (Molly's sister) was the housekeeper. All three women were excellent, cheerful workers, and Edith felt they deserved a nice evening.

"And, gentlemen" said Edith, "there is some good news for you. You get to put your clothes back on! Well at least for a while....." And she gave them their orders....

THE BANQUET

Mrs Smith and Mrs Collins were thrilled to be invited to the banquet! They were both widow ladies, with a healthy interest in the opposite sex. If only half of what they'd heard from Susan and Molly was true, it must have been a fantastic day on the farm. If there was going to be more of the same tonight, they'd crawl over broken glass to get there.

Miss Dustyhole was, frankly, a bit scared by what she'd been told. But something half-forgotten, deep down inside her bloomers, stirred. And so the good lady found herself in the big farmhouse dining hall at 8pm prompt.

What would the evening hold? Well the three ladies took their seats at the familiar table and looked around. Everything seemed quite normal! Edith had cooked a delicious hors d'oeuvre, followed by a very nice trout. Roland and Freddie waited at table, dressed in tuxedos.

The two young men put themselves out to be charming and the wine flowed. Mrs Smith, Mrs Collins and Miss Dustyhole started to think that maybe the wild tales had been exaggerated. Still, it was very pleasant to be spending the evening flirting with two such handsome young men.

Roland and Freddie disappeared with the dishes and Edith emerged from the kitchen.

"Enjoying the meal, ladies? Dessert still to come. But before you tuck into that, Roland and Freddie have got a little turn to do. Just a bit of fun! The boys' little show is called 'Foreign Cooking'."

The lights came up at the far end of the room. There was a trestle table with various bowls on. A very large oil cloth covered the floor in front of the table.

Standing on the oil cloth were two strange figures. Each dressed in a large apron. On their heads they were wearing a treukh. (A Russian fur cap with ear-flaps and a back flap.) Their faces were hidden under two large bushy beards (surely false?).

"Good evenink!" said one of the figures (Roland??) in a weird foreign accent. "We are from Rooshia." (Boos and laughter from the diners, in view of the Crimean War.)

"We are vurry warlike people." (More boos.)

"We are master cocks in Rooshia, but are forced to slave in your miserable English kitchen, cocking your savage foreign food." (Jeers and laughter.)

"Thees filth is called 'Fresh Fruit Salad with Whipped Cream and Custard'. We hope you choke on it!"

With these kind words, the two figures turned round to the table and attended to the bowls.

They now had their backs to the four women, who started to scream with laughter. And why? Because the kitchen aprons were backless. And the men had nothing on underneath! They were totally bare-assed to the rear, except for two fragile little bows at neck and lower back keeping the aprons on. Oh, and of course each man had a number painted on his left buttock!

Mrs Smith and Mrs Collins were absolutely delighted by this turn of events. They wanted to get very 'hands on', and rose half out of their chairs. But Edith stopped them: "Wait, ladies, there's more!" she smiled.

The two 'Russians' then seemed to get into an argument. They started jabbering at each other in a foreign tongue. (Edith identified this as schoolboy Latin.)

Then they lost it completely. The two men rushed at each other, and started wrestling. As they rolled around the floor, their hats and aprons came off with suspicious ease. Revealing them to the delighted women as a totally nude Roland Butt and a buck-naked Freddie Haunch. Totally nude, that is, apart from the false beards.

Mind you, Edith seemed to be keen to keep people thinking "savage naked strangers!" rather than "Roland and Freddie in the altogether!" Because she said with a wink to her guests: "Oh, those Russians!" I wonder why she did that? Still, the ecstatic women didn't care!

The 'fight' was quite a stagey one really. There didn't seem the slightest danger of anyone getting hurt. Instead, it was more like a series of live action nude poses.

First 'Numbers 1 and 2' staggered round bear-hugging each other. This nicely showed off two straining nude male bottoms -- both very meaty and firm. How they dimpled and flexed! Mrs Collins was sitting close enough to get a good handful of 'No 1's' butt. "Nice and fresh!" the cook said approvingly.

Then Roland (sorry, 'No 1') got No 2's arm up his back, and thrust No 2 forward. No 2 arched his back and braced his knees against the dining table to push back. This got Freddie's crotch thrust into Mrs Smith's delighted face. The resourceful housekeeper quickly grabbed hold of the flailing 'Russian' cock, and munched it!

Freddie stopped even pretending to fight, and just stood there, stroking his balls, with a big shit-happy grin on his face. No 1 got really cross then, and whispered something to No 2, which sounded like "my turn, Freddie!"

At which point the two 'fighters' swapped position. So it was then Roland who ended up thrusting his lunch box into a lady's face. The lucky recipient being Miss Dustyhole. But Roland's cock was a bit 'imposing' and Miss Dustyhole was clearly rather scared! So she closed her eyes tight and pushed out her tongue about an eighth of an inch between her clenched teeth. And missed Roland's penis completely!

Most frustrating for 'No 1', who vented his feelings with a flying kick at 'No 2'. Freddie pretended to have been hit in the balls, and drew everyone's attention to his private parts with a scream and a theatrical clutch of them. (He needn't have worried -- everyone was leering at them already.)

Freddie then did a thrilling naked back flip, and assumed a warrior-like pose with clenched fists. Freddie still sported a huge boner from Mrs Smith's splendid work (and maybe a bit of self-ministration). So he really did look rugged and magnificent, with penis and forearms all solid, knotted and veined. Even his testicles looked muscly!

Edith and Miss Dustyhole both sighed, slavered a little and eased their hands down between their thighs. Then they caught each other's eye and frowned. Aye aye -- a spot of rivalry there?

Anyway, Roland and Freddie pranced around a bit longer, giving everyone a highly satisfactory eye-full of straining biceps; urgent, thrusting cocks; tight buns; and big, bouncing, juicy, hairy plums.

Behind their beards, both men seemed to be grinning. Why was that? Maybe the screams of lustful laughter gave them the certain feeling that they were about to get laid!

The 'fight' then entered a new and delicious phase.

'No 1' broke free and shook his fist at 'No 2'. 'No 1' poured out a torrent of abuse "amo amas amat" at his nude opponent; beat his chest; slapped his hairy thigh; thrust out his impressive crotch and false beard; and appealed to the ladies in god-like rage.

The women cheered and leered and blew 'No 1' kisses. Mrs Smith and Mrs Collins coming up with some particularly good and filthy suggestions for giving 'No 1' succour.

Having lashed the crowd into a frenzy, 'No 1' reached for a big bowl of whipped cream, and emptied it all over 'No 2'.

It was then 'No 2's turn to hog the limelight. He jabbered "veni vidi vici"; danced with rage; jerked angrily at his penis and stuck out his bare ass at the diners. 'No 2' then made an elaborate nude pantomime of spotting the bowl of custard, and wondering whether or not to empty it over his naked foe.

Miss Dustyhole rose to glory by timidly pinching 'No 2's bare bottom and saying "Go on, I dare you!". And that's how the custard ended up sluicing down 'No 1's chest, torso, back, bottom, cock and balls.

The two men then squelched together on the floor, squashing strawberries and grapes into a paste between their tangled thighs, bellies and penises. They ended up sat on the floor in each others' laps, stroking each others' balls and pulling on each others' plonkers.

This was definitely NOT what Edith had in mind! She tottered over to the men. (Edith was a bit bandy-legged and flushed at this moment. Well, not to put too fine a point on it, she'd been quietly wanking herself under the table.)

Anyway, Edith seemed anxious to be keeping up this 'naked savage Russians' game, so she said: "Well really! Is this how you return our English hospitality? Get back to work! Serve these ladies with their dessert."

So 'No 1' (Roland) got up, carrying what was left of his bowl of custard. (Most of it was on him already.) Roland walked over to Mrs Smith, who by now was just insane with lust. And he said to her: "dessert, madam?" Mrs Smith looked wonderingly at this huge, sticky, gooey, juicy, delicious, naked man.

Roland put a strawberry between his lips, and bent down to Mrs Smith, who plastered her mouth to his. The poor strawberry didn't have a chance!

After a really deep and slurpy kiss, Roland retrieved his tongue, and said "custard with that, madam?" And he put a dollop of custard on to his straining dick. Mrs Smith licked him clean, and then started to gobble.

Roland's knees buckled, and a faraway look came into his eyes. Life seemed very sweet to him -- and then it got even better! For he saw Mrs Collins impatiently waiting her turn. Fantastic!

"Ah yes!" thought Roland between pants. "That's why Edith keeps pretending we're Russians! She wants to give me a chance with the other ladies. Without them feeling embarrassed about screwing her husband in front of her. What a good sport Edith is!"

No doubt Edith would have been deeply gratified by her husband's good opinion. But, truth to tell, Roland's sex life was the last thing on Edith's mind.

Edith's real reason for this fig leaf of "Russian strangers" was that she's spent a simply lovely day watching Freddie run around in the buff. And now she wanted a bit of Fred In Bed. After all the effort she'd put into this day, surely she was entitled to a good stiff fucking from the grateful virgin!

Miss Dustyhole was ahead of Edith in the queue, but no doubt Freddie would make short work of her. Then it would be Edith's turn!!

Hand down her bloomers, Edith watched as Freddie slapped some whipped cream on to his rock hard penis, and started gyrating in front of Miss Dustyhole. How the poor lady squealed! She was terrified! The gorgeous nude hunk leant over the nervous spinster, and Edith stopped paying attention.....

[To be perfectly frank, Edith wanted to concentrate on 'the job in hand' for a minute.....Shuddering climax! That was nice! And now for the real thing....]

And Edith opened her eyes.... To see the two bashful virgins climbing the stairs. He was naked, and he was carrying her. She was wrapping her legs round his back, and what was that? Miss Dustyhole's bloomers were lying in the bowl of whipped cream!

A minute later, a steady thumping started from the ceiling. (Freddie's bedroom was overhead.) VIRGINS NO MORE!

"Damn!" said Edith, which was the strongest language she'd ever used. She was very, very displeased.

"Oh well, there's always Roland. .... Roland?" She looked wildly round.

And there was her husband's brawny, naked back view. Slowly climbing the stairs. Carrying a giggling Mrs Collins in one massive arm and a berserk Mrs Smith in the other.

"I put fresh sheets on the big bed in the spare room today, Mr Butt."

"Well done, Mrs Collins! That was fortunate."

"I hoped I might get lucky tonight, Mr Butt!"

"I assure you, my dear ladies, it is I who is the lucky one! Do you know where that 'Do Not Disturb' notice is, Mrs Smith?"

"Yes, Mr Butt, I've hung it up on your cock, sir. I don't think there's any danger it will fall off!"

So Edith was left alone. As she sat there, with her bloomers round her ankles, Edith pondered on the day. She had changed things forever at Butt's Farm. She had handed down many valuable lessons. And what had she learnt from her ultimate failure to get laid?

"Edith" she told herself. "It's not always enough to be the prettiest, or the cleverest, or even the one calling the tune. Sometimes, dear, you've just got to be in the right place in the queue at the right time."

THE END