A Small Service

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A Small Service

Yorkshire, England, a good few years ago.

A Small Service.

I were working in office at pit head that morning, sun were shining gold on smoke from boiler house, birds was coughing, it hadn’t rained for two days solid, and that’s officially a drought in Yorkshire.

Any road round I were minding me own beeswax when boss comes in. Blagthorpe. Sommat were wrong. He weren’t all bolshy like usual. He were almost nervous.

“Ah young Allen,” he says, all friendly like, like when he wants accounts fiddled. “I wonder if thee coud do me a service?”

“I will if I can gaffer,” I says , “Whats going off?”

“Now thees a good lad, not a whore chaser nor nothing, no lass at home, no lass up duff?” he asked.

“No, I ent had no girl friend at all as it happens,” I says, “Why did thee ask?”

“I needs thee to do me a little service,” he says, “I need a lad as is pure.”

“Bugger that for a lark, no offence Mr Blagthorpe sir, but I ent doing thee no little service nor any other bloke neither I ent queer.” I insisted, “I’d rather have sack than do that!”

“Don’t be so bloody impertinent, its not for me you twat, nor no other bloke,” he snapped, “What sort of monster do you think I am?” he asked and then quickly added, “Don’t answer that!”

“So what is it thee want’s?” I asked.

“Geraldine me youngest,” he said.

Me cock twitched, she were a smasher, all gold ringlets and trim waist and squeezable melons.

I waited.

“She were out on moor and fell in wi Gypsies.” he said sadly, “Took her honour.”

“Reet?” I answered.

“Thing is,” he said awkwardly, “Now she had it she wants it, her uses candles but her can’t get no release.”

“Poor lass,” I says.

“Hers like bitch on heat,” he says, “So her needs a lad.”

“And you want me to?” I asked.

“Sort her out, word is you’re quite the lad where cricket’s concerned, good stamina,” he explained, “Well that’s what her needs.”

“And what does her think?” I asked.

“Her thinks her’s going to wed some nob,” he replied, “Well her can think on, her should have kneed the gyppos in bollocks not spread her legs for ‘em.”

“Reet,” says I, “Is this like overtime?”

“Overtime be buggered,” says he, “I’m offering me youngest, thee should be paying she!”

“Well, it’s very good of you to think on me,” says I.

“Reet, reet, I’ll pay overtime,” he says, “I knew tha was canny lad, but I’ll be buggered thees’ more bloody tight fisted than what I am.”

“So when does I start,” says I.

“Clear thee desk and get up house,” he says, “Sooner her’s sated sooner the wife can stop fretting.”

I took me time and sautered up boss’s place. It stood high up valley side away from where west wind blew smoke to. It were bloody big, second biggest place in village after church and workhouse.

“Ee young Alan, what you do’in here,” Mrs Blagthorpe says when I knocks door.

“The master sent me missus,” I says.

“What for?” says she.

“Why to fuck young Geraldine, didn’t master tell on?” says I.

“I told him to get a Gigolo or 2nd Battalion East Yorkshire Regiment, not some slip of a lad.” she grumbled, “You’ll not be a shit of use.”

She showed me in, “Geraldine, young Allan’s here to fuck thee,” she shouted up the stairs.

“Piss off our mam I’m fine wi me candles,” Geraldine shouts back.

“I’ll be off back down pit,” I says.

“Nay lad, get up stairs and suck her tits or summat,” she said, “Its third on left.”

I went up, third was inside bog, I were real impressed, all brass and shining poreclein. Her was next door.

Her lay on bed, legs spread wi her nightdress up and a big red candle deep in her whatsit.

Me cock stood up like a bloody broomstick, me knees wobbled.

“What you lookin’ at, never seen a cunt afore?” she asked.

Well I hadn’t and that’s a fact. “Bloody hell thee hasn’t,” Geraldine laughed.

“No, thee faither sent me.” I explained awkwardly, “He said as you needed a good seeing to.”

“I told him I want’s to marry a nob,” she said, “I want’s a big house not stuck in one up one down wi twelve kids.”

“So does I as it happens,” I said, “But it ‘ent going to happen.”

She looked at me quite fierce, “Appen thee’s reet,” she said, “Shut bloody door and put bolt across.”

I did as she said. “Now get thee trousers off,” she says.

Me fingers trembled as I undid me belt and that I were so scared. I weren’t like I imagined, all loved or or drunk, she just wanted cock. Any cock. I would have been put out if I hadn’t been so keep to get laid.

She stared at me cock. “Not bad, not bad at all,” she says, “Do you fancy me or is faither paying you?”

“Both,” I says, “It’ll be a dream to fuck thee, thee’s so far out me league.”

“Tha’ silver tongued creep, I bet faither told thee to say that.” she says.

“No,” I says as I peels me boots off and chucked me trousers and pants on a chair.

I undid me shirt as well and peeled it off.

“Not bad,” she said, “Come here and stick it in me.” She pulled the candle out and held her cunt lips wide for me.

I hopped up on bed. Stuck me knees between her thighs and slid down till she could get hold of me cock and guide him in her.

“Do summat,” she protested. It was heaven, her wonderful slippery cunt wi muscles which caressed and squeezed me shaft from root to knob end.

“Oh fuck, this is champion, I think I loves yer,” I exclaimed.

“Belt up and shoot your load,” she chided.

Whoosh, I started to cum. Bloody torrents of spunk gushed along me shaft and flooded her parts.

“Ooohhh, that’s so bloody good,” she cooed, “Oh god is that good,” she continued.

I stopped spunking and me thingy shrank.

“Right, thanks for that,” she says, “I feels a lot better now, thee can bugger off now. I needs a kip.”

“That were wonderful,” I says as I got dressed, “Thank thee like.”

“Yeah, whatever, now cut small talk, Tha’s done it now so end off,” she says and she turns on her side and tries to sleep. Trouble is she looks like an angel and me thingy won’t go back in me pants.

“What’s up, why you staring at me?” she asked.

“You’re so beautiful, and I can’t get me thingy back in me pants,” I says.

“Yer as bad as bloody gyppos,” she said, “Just clear off all reet?”

Face of an angel, voice of a fishwife, I felt sorry for her, no honour, no posh manners, no nobs going to want to wed her wi out a shed load of brass as dowry, and Blagthorpe weren’t known for generosity,in fact he were rumoured to be tightest fisted bugger as ever lived.

I wrestled me thingy back in me pants somehow and went downstairs.

“How is she?” Mr Blagthorpe asked.

“Trying to get some kip,” I says.

“That’s good,” she says, “Let’s hope its cured her!” I must have looked disappointed. “You look disappointed young Allen?” she adds.

“Yes, I ‘ent never done it afore, I never even kissed her nor nothing,” I explained, “My thingy’s all stiff still.”

“So take a cold bath!” she laughed, “Now get gone, me Husband don’t pay thee to make idle chit chat.”

I went back to work. My thingy sort of shrank as I walked down into valley, but all I could think on were Geraldine.

Shift ended at 6, Mr Blagthorpe were a good employer in some ways, “Twelve hours a day down pit is enough,” he always said, “And they can always put in a few hours of a Sunday to make time up.”

I stopped in office writing up books, one for tax man, one for Blagthorpe and one for me in case he ever saw fit to sack me.

Next morning sun were barely peeking over t’moor when I set forth for work. I liked to get in early before rush.

I hadn’t been in more then ten minutes when Blagthorpe’s bloke from big house turned up.

“Mr Blagthorpe said to inform you that your services are required forthwith at his residence.” he says all pompous like.

“‘Am bloody busy,” I says, “What’s going off?”

“Miss Geraldine requires your assistance with an, ahem, personal matter,” he says.

“Oh well, I’ll come straight way then,” I says and I grabs me coat. I didn’t want no second bidding.

Sun were shining as I hurried up hill, making layers of smoke shimmer like gold between hillsides. Birds was coughing, Pit head wheels was whizzing round like silver orbs as blokes plummeted down mine shafts in cages into stygian depths below.

Blagthorpe and Mrs Blagthorpe was waiting.

“What in’t t’ell did you do to our Geraldine? Blagthorpe demanded.

“I dunno gaffer, I never done it afore,” I says.

“Well thee’s done it now, poor bitch is calling out for thee,” he explained.

I thunk fast, “What a bit of “Hows your faither?”

“Yes,how’s yer bloody faither,” he says, “But no slackin’ mind, get it done and straight down pit.”

“I’ll be bloody knackered,” I says, “I’ll need a lie down after.”

“No thee won’t,” he says, “Nice bit o’ fresh air on walk back to pit will liven thee up.”

“But Norman, what if she want’s it twice?” the Missus chips in.

“I’ll probably die of heart failure,” I suggested, “Knackered me out it did.”

“Take thee time then but think on, fall a kip an’ I’ll dock thee sleeping time,” he offered.

“Sorry, I can’t risk it, If I falls a kip I’ll be our of pocket. I need the cash,” I ventured. “I’ll wish thee good day,”

“All reet, I’ll pay double for time on job but I’ll still dock sleeping time,” he offered.

“That’s not fair!” I protested.

“Life ent fair,” the Missus said wistfully, “He were strapping young lad when he were young,now look at him.”

“Am in me prime,” he snapped.

Just then Geraldine appeared in her nightgown, a huge great sack of a thing, “What’s goin’ off?” she demanded.

“Little financial deal dearest,” Blagthorpe apologised.

“You payin’ him to fuck me?” she demanded, “Oh bloody hell, it’s bad enough paying t’Ostler to fuck me mam!”

Mrs Blagthorpe blushed crimson.

“It’s not that Miss, he want’s to dock me wages,” I apologised.

“Too bloody right,” Geraldine replied, “Thee should pay me for privillege, like Gyppos do.”

“You said they forced you!” Mrs Blagthorpe protested.

“Er, well, it were a bit hazy,” Geraldine insisted, “Anyroad round I needs a seeing to so get up them stairs young Allen, and drop thee strides.”

“Do as she says lad,” Blagthorpe ordered, “I’ll see thee right.”

I followed Geraldine upstairs. In bedroom she chucked her nightdress off and showed me her underwear. French knickers we nowt between legs, all sleek and silky, like some high class who’er.

Me cock were stickin’ up like pit prop and then her bent at waist and said, “Get on wi it.”

I couldn’t drop me pants fast enough. Her twat were all red and moist where she been wanking like so me shaft could slide right in.

“Me twat not me ass hole,” she said insistently.

“Of course,” I agreed as I slid him in for a couple of minutes of bliss.

She gasped as me tool filled her, “That’s lovely,” she said, “Just a few more strokes, thee could make out thee loves me, if thee felt able?”

“Much as I can do not to shoot me load straight off,” I admitted, “Thee’s too far out me league.”

“And don’t thee forget it,” she insisted, “Thee can shoot thi’ load now, and grope me tits next time.”

I come like a bloody fountain. “Ohhhh that’s lovely,” she says, “Candle’s all reet but it don’t cum.”

“Yeah,” I says, “Candle needs hollowing out wi’s a valve and plunger so’s you can fill it wi’ warm water and make it shoot up thee.” I said as I pulled out and looked for summat to wipe me cock on, “Then I wouldn’t have to sort thee out and could get me work done.”.

“Bloody hell our Allen, tha’s a bloody genius,” she cried, “Nice brass cylinder covered wi wax, piston like steam engine, valve like safety valve, nice mahogany knob for operating rod, I reckon we coud make em for two bob and sell em for a guinea!”

“By heck, thee’s Blagthorpe’s daughter all reet,” I sighed, “Banging on about makin’ brass before I even finished fucking thee.”

“What about you? you’re meaner than me faither!”,” she said but there was a gleam in her eye that looked like pound signs. “Thee’s a clever bloke, thoughtful like,” she thought out loud, “Handy in bedroom, I reckon you got summat there wi’ tha wanking thingy.”

She looked so beautiful. Too beautiful. Me cock reared again.

“We could get pit worshops to make ‘em,” she suggested, “Posh ones and.”

She saw me cock were o’nt rise again and she laid back on bed and spread her legs again.

“If tha’ gets me in family way thee’ll have to marry me tha’ knows.” she warned.

“I’d marry thee wi out,” I said, “I reckon I loves thee!”

And we kissed.

“What’s thee at young Allen?” Blagthorpe yelled up stairs.

We never took no heed of him. We was in love.

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