The Healing of Lust- No Going Back by Danielle W Batts - HTML preview

Milkmaids and candyfloss

Uncle Roger’s exploit’s with other women was always going to end in tears at some point.

“If you play with fire you will get burnt,” mother warned him, time and again. Of course, he just smirked

"Stop fussing woman, there's enough of me to go around." Bad enough that he was fucking several different women, while he was on his milk round. But when he strayed into a married man's territory, then lookout. To be fair, Uncle Roger never knew at the time, that the lady from the big house, at the end of the lane, was married. She never said so, while she was riding his fat cock, that dark morning back in November.

The first I heard of it was when I came home early. Uncle Roger was laying across our dining-room table, with his pants around his ankles, while mother was plucking dozens of tiny buckshot out of his hairy arse using a pair of tweezers. My father was in tears through laughing so hard. As was I, once I could eventually decipher what he was saying. Mother, however, took a dimmer view.

“You must go to the Police and report the so-and-so. You could have been killed!”

Uncle Roger was a proud man. He would never dream of grassing on anyone, let-a-lone getting the police involved. If he was in any mood for revenge then he kept it to himself, for the time being at least.

The main thing on his mind, at this point, was who would cover his milk round… When Mother was out of earshot, I offered my assistance.

“But you can’t drive,” he said.

“Anyone twat can turn a key and press a peddle!” I replied, “And everyone at the diary knows me, so that won’t be a problem.”

The next morning, I cycled down to the dairy, to collect my order of milk and the float which had been charging in the shed overnight. As usual, Tess was there checking the paperwork before releasing the orders.

As lovely as ever, she was wearing a pair of skin-tight trousers that showed off her gorgeous shapely arse and her plump little pussy bulge. Normally she wouldn’t give me a second glance, but today she was most congenial.

“I’m surprised to see you here today,” she smiled, “How’s Roger? Only, I heard something terrible has happened to him." I wasn't aware that anyone knew about my uncle being shot in the arse, so I kept my reply as short as possible.

"He's not too bad, thanks. But he will be taking it easy for a while. I said I would take over his round for a few days until he is back on his feet." Tess looked at me a bit sheepish.

“You know you can’t drive his float!” she said quietly. “You wouldn’t be insured.”

“Oh, I just assumed his insurance would cover any driver.”

“wait here,” she said, “I have an idea.” Before I could quiz her further, she disappeared upstairs to the offices. It made me smile when she returned, wearing a white milkman’s coat and a flat cap. The coat was a little on the long side and she was rolling up the sleeves.

“Right then, I have spoken with my boss. He said he will sort out the insurance, from tomorrow. He just needs your provisional driving licence. Today, once I have released everyone’s orders, I am going to give you a hand.” I could not believe my luck. I was almost grateful for uncle getting shot.

“Wow! That’s great, thanks.” This was my one chance to get to know her.

By the time we set off, time was getting on. The sky began to light with an orange glow heralding a beautiful sunny, albeit, chilly day. I couldn’t stop looking at her while she concentrated on driving the little milk float, dodging the pots holes as best as she could, to avoid breaking the bottles.

“you look and smell divine this morning Tess,” I seem to recall was my opening gambit. A bit cheesy I know, but it seemed to do the trick.

“What! in my welly-boots and milkman’s outfit?” she replied, laughing. I could tell though she liked me complimenting her. Soon we were chatting away like old friends and the day flew by.

That was until we arrived at the gates to the big house at the end of the lane. The house where uncle Roger was shot at. It was the last drop of the day. I stopped the cart and we looked at each other. Tess saw how nervous I was.

“Are you going to tell me then, about what happened to Roger?” She was right, I was nervous, scared even, especially now. Why ask that question here, of all places. I stared at the fortress style gates hanging ominously from enormous brick piers. A high railing fence ran in either direction around the entire property. This was the only entrance in and out of the big house.

“It happened right here. Did you know?” I assumed she did, being she posed the question here.

“Did what? What do you mean, happened here?” Tess clearly didn’t know the whole story, so I thought it best to start from the beginning.

“Uncle Roger parked his float right here. The gates were partly closed, and he couldn’t be bothered to use the buzzer and then wait for ages to be let in. It was a nice day, so he decided to walk down the long drive and around the house to the side door. Mrs Wilmington doesn’t like tradesmen going to the front door.

She thought it common to see milk left on the doorstep. She invited him in, and yes, he had been screwing her. I know that because he had her down for a free bottle of Gold top." Tess gave me a puzzled look. "Don't worry, I'll tell you about that another time… He assumed she was separated or divorced, being that he had never seen a man there or even a second car on the drive. It turned out that her husband worked away a lot, abroad somewhere.

They were doing the business when the husband suddenly appeared. Of course, he went ballistic when he saw his wife riding Uncle Roger over the kitchen table. After calling his wife a slut and threatening to kill them both, uncle Roger grabbed his trousers and ran up the drive. He didn’t know the husband had gone to fetch his shotgun. Just as he got to these gates, he heard a band and then felt his arse stinging like hell. He managed somehow to get to the milk float and drive back to our place.”

Tess looked at me, her mouth was wide open with disbelief.

“What! You really mean he was shot? In the arse?” I nodded. “Then he must go to the police! I know there is no excuse for someone fucking your wife, but to be shot for it, now that’s serious shit.”

Tess got out of the milk float and walked over to the gates.

“Look,” she said, “There are two cars on the drive, they must both be there!” I followed, carrying two pints of semi-skimmed. “No! you’re not going in there. He might think you are you’re Roger. He might kill you by mistake.”

“Don’t be silly, of course, he won't, he's hardly a madman."

“You don’t know that. He might well be.” I nudged open the gate and walked through the opening.

“I’m coming with you,” Tess said, gripping my arm, acting like there was a murderer behind every bush.

I should have listened to Tess. When we got to the door, it was wide open but there was not a sound.

“Hello!” I said, loudly. “Milk delivery.” I popped the milk on the doorstep and was about to leave when I heard a mumbled, distressed voice. I looked again. Through a second doorway, I could see a pair of woman’s legs, she was sitting or lying on the floor. Tess gripped my arm even tighter.

“Don’t go in,” she whispered, “let’s call the police.”

“She might be hurt. We can’t just leave her, lying there.” Gingerly we walked through the doorway into the house. Suddenly the door slammed shut behind us. As we turned, Tess’s fears were confirmed. The husband was standing there brandishing a shotgun.

“Come on in,” he said, “join the party.” He gestured, waving the barrel of his gun that we should join his wife in the next room. We were both shocked when we saw her, and Tess gasped. Mrs Wilmington was sitting on the floor propped up against the sofa almost totally naked, the only garment she had on was a pair of pink knickers and even they had been partly ripped from the waistband. She looked cold, tired and frightened as if she had been there all night.

I saw that the gunman had a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and was swigging from it, copiously. We were both shitting ourselves, Tess especially, I could feel her trembling as she dug her fingers into my arm.   

“Have you met my wife? Harriet,” the Gunman said, slurring his words as he spoke.

“She likes a good fuck, does Harriet. Especially likes milkmen.” The gunman pointed his shotgun towards us, but his eyes were fixed on me. I’ll never forget that look he gave me. Yes, he was pissed but the rage in his eyes was the most sinister I have ever seen. And we were standing no more than four feet away from the end of his shotgun.

“Right,” he demanded, “you, take your clothes off, let Harriet see what you’ve got, let’s see if you’re big enough for her.” I froze for a moment. Mrs Wilmington bought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. She was sobbing and doubtless felt very ashamed. “Go on!” Slowly I did as the gunman instructed until I stood there naked.

He looked at me and smirked. He turned his attentions towards Tess. "He you're boyfriend then?"

 “No,” I said, answering for her, but at the same time, Tess said,

“yes.” I’m not sure why she said that. Maybe she had a better idea where this was leading.

“Well, Milkman, let’s find out. If she’s not your girlfriend, then she won’t mind if you fuck my wife.” The gunman looked at Tess, “If he is your boyfriend then you can take your clothes off and he can fuck you instead.”

He was madly serious, and we all knew it. At that moment it dawned on me that we were hostages, in a sordid game of revenge. If he thinks he has killed uncle Roger, he will go down for murder. He would be expecting the armed police to arrive, surround the house and maybe lob teargas through the windows like they do in the movies. But seriously. At some point, I believe he was going to shoot his wife and then take his own life. I wasn’t sure why he would leave it so long after the event.

Although he was on the edge, maybe he couldn’t quite go that extra mile and kill her. The fact that we showed up must surely be a coincidence and now he had turned it to his advantage in a way to further humiliate his wife.   

All the while these thoughts were going through my mind, Tess had her own agenda. She is an amazing girl. Without saying a word, she started to undress, and with confidence too. I know this was a surreal, scary situation we were in, but boy she has a stunning figure.

After Tess had stripped off, she continued with her distraction tactics. I felt her hand cup my balls at the same time she kissed me, passionately, on the lips… I wasn’t ready for that one I can tell you. Normally, if a beautiful girl was standing next to me, naked and cupping my balls, I would have an instantaneous erection and I would be planning my next moves to exciting her.

It's funny how looking down the barrel of a shotgun with a madman at the trigger end tends to focus the mind. I couldn’t have got hard now if my life depended on it. But, fuck. It might. The gunman too was shocked by Tess’s actions. He took another large swig from his bottle and then wiped the spill from his lips using the back of his hand.

“Go on then, milkman let’s see you fuck her.” I truly believe Tess’s actions had begun to re-programme the gunman’s thoughts. Through this ordeal, I suddenly had a thought.

“That milkman you shot at. He’s not dead. You do know you only shot him in the arse. He wouldn’t even go to the police.”

“You’re lying.” I saw a change in the gunman’s eyes, they became more pitiful.

“No, I swear to you, he has nothing more than a sore arse.

“He’s not lying,” Tess added, “please, put the gun down before someone really gets hurt.”

Jonathan Wilmington, the husband, turned gunman, lowered his weapon and without saying a word just walked out the door. We were elated. We held each other in a long naked embrace. During that moment something magical happened between us. Some invisible force bound our souls together. I believe we both felt it, yet neither of us spoke of it. From that moment, even if we never became lovers, we would always be soulmates.

Tess ran upstairs, found a blanket and wrapped it around Mrs Wilmington. She was in bits, crying and weeping.

“I’m sorry, she wept, “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I was just so lonely.” She then went on to explain that Jonathan had just lost his job, after nearly thirty years of service. When he came home and caught her with uncle Roger, it was the final straw. Mrs Wilmington begged us not to go to the police. She said it was over now. He wouldn’t hurt anyone, thanks to us.

"You were great in there," Tess said after we had dressed and were on our way back to the milk-float.

“No,” I said, we were both great in there.

Tess held me again before we left for home.

"I'm not ready yet, to go home." There's a funfair on, at the Oval, why don't we go?" If the day wasn't bizarre enough. We arrived at the funfair, in our little milk float, wearing milkman’s coats and caps. Tess didn’t want me to try and win her a goldfish in a tiny plastic bag. She said it was cruel. We didn’t even ride the dodgems.

I guess we both thought we had had enough excitement for one day. Instead, we just walked around, arm in arm, stuffing pink candyfloss until we both felt quite sick. For the rest of the evening, we digested our ordeal. We joked if it hadn't been for Milkmaids and candyfloss our lives may have never entwined.   

After we finally left to return the milk float, we passed two police cars and an ambulance. They were on their way to the big house, at the end of the lane.

End.

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Coming soon:

Follow Nick’s further adventures in book two: Between the cheeks by Danielle W Batts.