Same Route, 50 Years Later Pt. 01

Tina snickered at the oft used name for The Shoe Inn, on the Haverland estate. "Yes Fluffy Thatch and old John Thomas have a lovely old pub and actually owned by er...Penelope - s'at right?" she queried.

"Yes they do, what a team eh? father and daughter, all these years and to think old Posy Thomas inherited the licence before she met big John..."

"Big John Thomas heh heh," snickered Tina.

"Well come on me old dear, past our bedtime, I'm ready," said Bron, getting up and making her way out of the hotel restaurant. "Oo, must get some of those knickers off you. These need washing first and last I hope." She chuckled pointing at her groin.

Paper panties were issued and they split for separate rooms.

* * * * *

Cyril opened the back door and saw a very wet figure huddled in the porch with it's back to him. The figure turned to face him, expressing total shock as he untangled a light jacket from over his head. It was raining heavily, a sudden downpour, reminding Cyril he had left the bedroom window wide open.

"Good grief...er er...yes it's you Fin isn't it, come in man you're soaked," gestured Cyril.

"Good god man, you're starkers!" exclaimed Finley Bannerman haughtily, staggering inwards, dragging the jacket off. "Not decent you know."

Cyril took the garment and shook it and hung it over a chair, looked down and yes he was naked.

"Can see your undercarriage old chap," blustered Bannerman. "Gong in the shower or something/"

"No I am usually like this when Tina's not around. Love it - she hates it. Anyway what brings you round old chap - bit early for you." muttered Cyril, checking his watch and draping a towel off the Aga round him.

"Well you know, thought I'd have a constitution down the bridle way, got half way and this started," Fin pointed upwards. "Realised I was at the bottom of your orchard so popped in for shelter."

"Time for a snifter, I reckon, timing was right," Cyril snickered." Usual? Come through."

The two old fogeys tottered through into the beamed living room, the householder holding the towel and not quite managing to conceal his withered and wrinkled droopy buttocks from the emaciated, unshaven, tall, white haired septuagenarian, who was once the imposing, stout head master of Bendale school and the Golf Club - not forgetting his role as a magistrate.

"Oh fuck it" chuckled Cyril throwing the towel over the sofa. "You've seen me starkers enough in the club showers, here you go..." he snickered, handing Fin a large whisky. He poured himself a gin and tonic and raised it to his friend. Fin returned the toast, not being able to, but wishing he cold - take his eyes off Cyril's wobbly little cock and balls.

"Get dressed old chap, it's not the place." Cyril agreed and went very slowly, puffing and panting up the narrow, steep, early seventeenth century cottage stairs. Fin glanced around in distaste. There was no way he and Monica...no not Monica any more, could live in such an old thatched place, so tiny, crooked, mice and bats in the roof, compared to the five bed, detached new build up the road.

"You've lost tons of weight Fin old boy," said a shirted and trousered Cyril, returning, getting his drink and sitting opposite. He got a nod of approval, Cyril couldn't have cared less.

"Well you know. Since that business with the police. Worry, shame and Moni fucking off...you know."

"Yes awful business that, you poor thing. It shows...but you'll bounce back old chap. Monica...have you heard?"

Fin shook his head, downed his scotch and took advantage of Cyril's magnanimous gesture and poured himself a less generous measure. He stroked his face and crossed his bony legs, something he couldn't achieve eight years ago. "She's with her sister, some godforsaken place in Africa. Couldn't handle the shame, you know? I've had to and it's not going too bad, I mean I could've done time, but luckily someone on the team gave me probation and ten years sign in." Fin blew his cheeks out, thinking being a magistrate worked in his favour. "Lost the job, got a place at the supermarket, golf club a no no of course, but I manage to keep fit and lost this..." Fin waved his hand round his paunch. "Anyway, news on the girls?"

"Oh yes I get regular updates from Tina and sounds jolly good fun. Bron up to her usual tricks...you know." Cyril snorted, rolling his watery eyes.

"Oh yes a real man eater that one. More men that hot dinners eh" Fin chortled. "Never had me, tried to, s'pose I could have poked it, but not interested, big woman...big mouth too. I like a bit of black and no big arses you know..."

"Hmm yes, so does Bron, the black and young according to Christina," Cyril giggled. "Monica was a stunner though. Ethiopian...that right. Very like that pop singers woman David someth...?" Fin nodded and peered into his half empty crystal glass also forgetting the name. "You got ten years on the...er whats it?...Oh yes the Sex Offenders Register?" Another nod. "Kiddy stuff wasn't it...?" quick repetitive nods, down in Fin's chest this time. "Oh well, never been into that myself...I like..." Cyril shouldn't have said that and hoped he'd done too much quizzing Fin to distract him.

"Funny thing was I think Moni could have been into it too oddly, there were hints and stuff...oh never mind it's old now, she's gone and best forgotten. So tell me Cyril old boy, what do you like?" asked Fin directly.

Cyril gulped, downed his G&T and quickly replenished it, topping up Fin's scotch too. He'd nurtured his secret for years. The only way he had expressed and discussed it was with anonymous people on the internet. Tina had found it and hadn't bothered - damn her ways - but he'd never disclosed to friends, colleagues. Fin and he were the two closest male pals, so it would be OK - wouldn't it - to reveal, but how safe - it wasn't illegal - to view what he liked and he never created and distributed it - he just got some kicks somehow, I mean you can't wank Cyril. Oh fuck it, he mused and decided.

"I'll show you, come to the study. I have got to impress this is something I've never talked about or shown people, but fuck! We're both in our eighties, how long have we got and we only live once, in here" Cyril pointed. "It's all on the computer."

"Nice machine, I had one," said Fin gazing at the enormous Apple Mac on a very tidy desk. His host, sat down and placed two coasters for their drinks and booted the computer. Fin rolled up an office type chair as directed. "Mine was taken by the scum and I had to buy a new one, but of course the boys in blue check up on me and call in ad-hoc and demand to check the laptop. Never know when they're coming, trying to catch me out, the bastards," Fin grunted and downed his scotch.

Cyrill nodded as he listened, clicking the keyboard. "S'pose you'll never be tempted again? Ah here we go."

"No way, learned my lesson the hard way. God knows how many I dealt with in court, that was the main issue...jeez!" Fin exclaimed, goggled eyed. "Look at that, bloody hell...how do they get that...the quality too...wow...look she's got the red flag flying...Cyril!...the camera is under the toilet somehow."

His pal smiled knowingly and chuckled as the video streamed on. This was new, but well recognised subject matter and he might download it later to add to his collection. He liked these intimate views of females of all ages and types crouching over toilets, exposing every detail of their cunts and arseholes as they pissed, some with tampon strings which were hard and crisp dangling until they were drenched and sodden, some ladies removing the heavily soiled wadge, discarding it and inserting a clean one.

"Look that dirty bitch never wiped her fanny before she pulled her knickers up," exclaimed an excited Fin, "Wow where is this?...how do they get away with it?...it's damn clever I must say...amazing"

"Usually Russia or similar, there's a series in Japan too," answered Cyril.

"Bet those Chinky bints are hairy," Fin sniggered, "Look at her, it looks like she's leaking cum, there's something white dripping out...ah you've switched OK lets see. Jeez Cyril this is absolutely stunning quality ... outside now, wonder what...Oh look at her, she's very old..."

They watched in silence still unsure of each others reactions, but enjoying the intimate views of females in a forested area, relieving themselves. Now and then Fin would explode with astonishment, pointing at the screen, whooping and commenting to his pal.

"Looks like a verge of a road somewhere doesn't it?...but look, there are people strolling by through the bushes, like in a town, men and women fully dressed going about their business and a couple of yards away, it's a lady's toilet...Wow, look, that couple just have arrived and he's having a slash too...that's a laugh...he's holding her handbag...and another girl, squatting down behind him. Amazing...Wow! This is a wedding do now, somewhere different...and the bride having a piss outside with girls holding up her dress...other women going past them into the cubicles...ah maybe her dress is too big and fancy to squeeze in one..." chuckled Finley.

The two old men stared at the screen until Cyril switched it off.

"If she'd rented it, she couldn't have piss on it could she? Could only happen in Russia, or Croatia - places like that." Roared Fin. "Astonishing stuff, how on earth did you find it?"

His host explained everything and wrote down the URLs for a very grateful Finley. They discussed the videos at length, more the technicalities rather than content and Fin said that if someone knew how, they could have installed gear like that in the ladies at the golf club, but of course no more.

"Just think we could have the mayor, the postmistress, Lady Penelope and one or two big name golfers fannies pissing...what a laugh."

"Yes but it would have to be kept private," argued Cyril with a chuckle, "Just for us if we'd done it, big names and celebrities could find out I suppose...one way or the other."

"Hhmmmm!" murmured Finley.

* * * * * * *

"Hello madam, we're...just closed - but for you..." smiled Fluffy, quickly glancing at the magnificent grandfather clock standing near the fireplace as Penelope entered the freehold pub. "She's pleased to see you of course and Randy will be too, to see you, we've kept Mollie with us," she added with a knowing wink.

Lady Penelope smiled a reply, whilst stooping, murmuring doggy words. "Hellloo Mollie, good girl, that's it mummies here, been a good girl." She patted the black Labrado bitch that warmly greeted her. The tail wagging, well trained dog then continued to amiably wander around sniffing corners, nibbling crumbs of food on the floor and being fussed by Fluffy when she stepped from behind the copper topped bar.

"She hasn't been out here all morning has she?" A shake of Fluffy's bleached blonde mane and an explanation satisfied Penelope. "Charles thinks I'm in town shopping, but after all the excitement up at the hall and I haven't been in for a chat...you know...and I thought it would be quiet and nice if I could...you know...see Randy again." The lady of the manor stated a little hesitantly.

"Well dad has gone to cash and carry and I've got to tidy up, but you're welcome to go out back. ...you know...no problem," chuckled Fluffy, nodding back over her shoulder with a knowing wink. "I might have time meself later...I'll keep her with me if you like," she giggled, nodding at the Labrador.

"Yes please do Fluff. It'll be easier, quieter and I don't want competition...you know..." snickered Penelope, her eyes smiling as she licked her thin, lightly painted lips. She made her way through the bar, then the back door and aimed towards the large, black timbered barn across the yard.

Watching the tall, elegant, firmly lacquered coiffed lady of the manor strut away, Fluff mused on their identical fetishes and marveled at how Penelope had kept such a secret for so many years. For her own part, Fluffy had never married. She was so absorbed in the fantastic life she had in and around the pub, the village, the young farmers club, playing rugby for the county ladies team and to top it all, her true love out back in the barn. Young men had never seemed to be attracted to the slender, athletic girl with narrow eyes, an over abundance of fine, fair, facial hair, a ready, open mouthed smile dominated by the way her upper gums were more on show than her big teeth. At forty one, her life was settled, aiming to carry on with the pub, subject to the estate future. Her dad had told her the Earl was in agreement, so was Lady Penelope.

Good old dad, Big John Thomas, arranging things smoothly for her. He, who had brought her up after his wife Posy had died through chain smoking when Fluffy was twelve. The fact that he'd noticed her affinity with animals, especially the gun dogs he had bred until five years ago. She had heard Randy bark his greeting to Penelope earlier. The black Labrador had been a superb stud dog and commanded substantial fees for his time, Fluff taking charge and Big John letting her reap the benefits. The way Penelope had stumbled by chance on Fluff's foolhardy liaison in Five Acre Wood, when she had thought there was no one around had initiated the two women's friendship and secret passions.

* * * * *

Many miles, many countries, many laughs, many men in Bron's rooms. Her favourite so far was the wiry, black, concierge in Belgrade. For once she had bedded a mature man. He was so charming and helped park the Ford where their hotel parking space had been overlooked by reception. She had noticed his interest in her broad butt, tightly encased in white trousers. Besides, there were no fanciable young'uns around and the tall blonde needed regular servicing, much as their Ford Mondeo. His dick wasn't big, no matter to her, it's what he used it for, especially up her arse. She knew Tina wouldn't approve. Her co-driver had mentioned how Cyril had once tried to bugger her, as Tina charmingly put it, with absolutely no success and a severe ticking off.

Silly Tina. Ido had been highly amused with her paper knickers and she had happily given them to the ever smiling Nigerian, after she had peeled them off carefully, him pleading with Bron not to tear them off and throw away. Idogbe, for that was his tribal name had laughed with glee, sniffing them and licking them as she gobbled his gleaming black, pink helmeted cock, finally stuffing them in his mouth and eating them before she surprised him, getting her to knees and pulling her sumptuous bum cheeks apart giving him no reasons for ignoring the puckered, dark rimmed sphincter she indicated and ream her arsehole.

He had never seen a smooth mott and arsehole before.

* * * * *

"Those video URLs you gave me Cyril?" suggested Finley as they walked up the bridleway to the Shoe Inn, for a lunchtime pint or three. "Damned good, I must have near overheated the computer I've been viewing them so much. Gets me really randy and I get ideas and stuff you know?"

"Well just be careful old boy, you mustn't show anyone, mums the jolly old word eh?"

"Yes of course but you know I have some cleaners in to spruce up the old homestead every week?...If both turn up, both females, sometimes a chap will come...I mean there are two women, illegal Syrian refugees I'm sure, that bastard Assad! But one is very robust..." Fin giggled and indicated with a wide sweep of his hands. "A bit like that Miriam Marg...what's her name on telly and the other is not a bad looker... I mean short, but shapely, much younger, thick black hair up in a bunch and lovely legs. I've been trying to find a way of hiding a camera to see them pissing heh heh."

They entered the pub.