Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Three

The Note

1

The next morning Ann was startled to wake from a deep and satisfied sleep at the crack of dawn. With no glass in the windows it was freezing and the dawn light shone right in her eyes through the open hayloft entrance. The straw mattress underneath her was little better than sleeping on a board; not like the silk sheets and thick mattress she was used to.

It took her a moment to realise where she was. And who she was. Her head was fuzzy from the previous night’s festivities but it quickly came back to her: the pleasure of drinking and carousing and fighting of all things with her mate Je— with Jeb, the farmer’s boy.  She also remembered the animal passion and the thrill of bedding the slutty barkeep’s daughter, grinning broadly to herself as she fingered her bushy moustache with one hand and fondled her half-aroused hairy cock with the other.

It came back to her how she’d fantasized making love with Lady Ann – with herself – but she shook her head ruefully. She’d also gotten a lot of pleasure from telling herself she was really a man.

It was ridiculous really. She put it down to too many jars of— pints of that awful ale and the headiness of suddenly finding herself with the freedom to do anything she desired.

"Best be up and about, Burt," said the smug woman beside him. "Old Harry will be wantin' you in the stables cleanin’ up right after breakfast."

Damn! thought Ann, I should have written that note! Mavis was annoyingly present and there was no chance right now. She’d have to do it later.

Mavis got up and made Ann breakfast on the little stove there dressed only in her corset. To Ann's amazement she ate it all! Three eggs and three huge slices of ham!

“Have we got any bread… luv?” asked Ann, trying again, fairly unsuccessfully now, to imitate the Yorkshire brogue.

Mavis laughed "What do you think we are? Quality?"

Ann wasn’t sure how she felt about that comment. This ‘holiday’ had been all about doing what she wanted. She didn’t like the idea of being restrained in a different way than she had been in her real life. Also it made her feel a little insecure that she was no longer ‘quality.’

Before she left to use the outside toilet, Mavis walked lasciviously over to Ann and edged down her trousers. She took the end of Ann’s already throbbing cock in her lips and gave it a quick suck then pulled away.

“That’s so as you remember whose man you are,” she said, slipping away.

Ann watched her go, smiling as she swelled with pride. I’m her man, she thought; then stopped herself.

What an idiotic thing to think! Mavis was gutter trash. Useful for a good rutting and not much else. But Ann did have to admit; she’d enjoyed herself with the lass.

Once she was fully alone, she hunted round until she found paper and ink. It was cheap – nothing like the water stained and scented stationery she was used to – but it would have to do.

She sat down to write the note.

Dere Hary.

She paused, looking at what she’d written. No. That wasn’t right. She crossed it out.

Deer Arrie,

Yoo av to

plees givv burt—

No.

I ordur yoo to

Yooe wil lett Burt av the fourthknite   tou   2 weecks off of work an so that ee 

She gaped at the paper in amazement and displeasure. No matter how hard she tried, it wasn't her own script that went down on the paper, but rough and untutored words in Burt's own handwriting, such as it was! She couldn’t understand it. It was still her mind in Burt’s body. Why should she no longer be able to write?

But for the life of her she couldn’t recall whether Harry was spelt with or without an “H.” She tried saying it out loud.

“’Arry.” She paused, wondering if that sounded right and said it again, sounding it out as carefully as she could. “’Arry.”

It sounded like it should start with an “A,” but would it then be spelled A-R-R-Y or A-R-Y-E? It completely escaped her and she couldn’t risk writing the wrong thing because Harry would know that the “real” Lady Ann wouldn’t make such a mistake.

“Why, however could this have ‘appened to me,” she murmered. Then it occurred to her that her voice showed more traits of Yorkshire brogue than it had as well. She was dropping some of her H’s. Surely that wasn’t the correct way to speak. Or was it? Suddenly she wasn’t so sure.

She said it again. “However could this have ‘appened to me.” She frowned. Only parts of what she said had the accent. It was most odd. Now it suddenly occurred to her that she was mispronouncing Harry’s name all of a sudden. Perhaps it was spelled with an H after all.

She’d noticed she’d taken on a few masculine mannerisms in her time in Burt’s body – her enjoyment of fighting for example, and how from time to time she found it easier to imitate the common way the clodhoppers had of speaking. She’d assumed that had been part of being a man. It hadn’t occurred to her that she was specifically taking on some of Burt’s ways. She supposed it made sense. Her body had transformed completely into his. Part of that body was the brain. It followed then that she now had Burt’s brain. That was why she’d been able to tap into the part of his mind that determined his language and mode of speech, however inefficiently. And how she’d known how to fight and have sex as a man.

She wondered if she’d know how to groom horses, and whether Burt in her body would know how to apply makeup.

She looked at the rough bumpkin handwriting on the paper in front of her. The part of her brain that had been educated to write beautiful English had obviously transformed along with the rest of her body. She didn’t just have Burt’s body; she had his education as well.

The horror of that struck her for a moment. She really had become Burt in every physical way. She was still herself – her core personality wasn’t influenced and her voice was only slightly affected – but she wondered about the longer term effects if she remained Burt over days and weeks.

She wondered if she shouldn’t just run and get the amulet now and—

“Burt!”

She jerked up. It was Harry – the groundskeeper and Burt’s superior.

“Burt! Get down ‘ere and muck out these horses ye great dozy twonk!”

Ann got to her feet and frowned. How was she going to get out of this?

She could run she supposed but what choice did she have? As far as the world saw her, she was Burt Harper; nothing but a common stable hand. The earl, her father, had every right to flog her if she shirked ‘her’ duties. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than that! Her only option was to do what she was told until she could get up to the house and order Burt, in her body, to do the note instead. Her one hope was that Burt had gained the education that she’d lost – though that was a frightening thought.

“Burt!!” bellowed Harry. “Get down her double quick or I’ll tan yer ruddy ‘ide!”

“Very well,” mumbled Ann sourly, “I’m coming. There’s no need to get agitated about it.” Her accent sounded exactly like it always had now without a trace of colloquialism but she didn’t care.

Outside Harry was waiting with a stern look on his face and his arms folded. “Get in those stalls and shovel the shit you lazy bugger!” he bellowed. “I want all of it cleared in ten minutes!”

Ann gaped back at him. She couldn’t believe how the repellantly man was speaking to her. How dare he? Didn’t he realize who she— But of course he realized exactly who he was talking to: Burt!

“Go on then!” snapped Harry. “Don’t just chuffing stand there like a big ape!”

“I’m really not in the mood for moving… dung this morning Harry,” replied Ann. “I just need to go and speak to… I need to speak to Lady Ann up at t’manor ‘ouse.” She cleared her throat. “Up at the manor house.” She smiled. “Would you mind awfully if I popped her there and came straight back?”

Harry strode toward her and brandished his fist in her face. “”You’ll get to work right now my lad or you’ll really feel my anger!”

Ann blanched, terrified by the vulgar show of force and wishing for a moment that she could regain the same bawdy violent side she’d managed to generate the night before. For now it was non-existent. She might have looked like Burt but she felt exactly like she always had and the ugly threat made her want to weep.

Instead she hurried into the stable and looked round for the shovel. For now she had no other choice. She just had to slip away as soon as she could to get Burt to write the note, and pray that he knew how to! Or have another go herself when she was feeling less sleepy.

She took the shovel into one of the stalls and looked at the steaming pile of horse dung that had been freshly deposited. Wincing to herself she lifted it gingerly on her spade and carried it to the cart outside. Then she went to do the rest, hating the stink and the grime of it.

This hadn’t been what she had in mind for her holiday at all! It occurred to her that visiting her grandmamma might not have been so bad after all!

2

Burt woke up feeling wonderfully rested to the delicious scent of fried bacon. He didn’t remember ever sleeping so well in his life. When he opened his eyes he couldn’t, for a moment, believe where he was. He was lying wrapped in silk sheets in a gigantic four poster bed in an opulently decorated chamber. He sat up, immediately feeling the jiggle of breasts on his chest and the swish of long hair against his neck. That was when it all came back to him: the incredible fact of this astounding favour his darling Lady Ann had asked of him. Looking down as he turned back the covers at his slender arms and long graceful legs was heart-stopping. Burt had longed for so many years to be close to Lady Ann and now he was, in the most shocking way imaginable.

Gladys was in the doorway with a tray of breakfast things, her eyes lowered, waiting. It made Burt giggle to see her look so fawning after all the years of making out she was superior to him. “Beggin’ your pardon m’lady but you’d best be up and about. The coach will be ready shortly to take you down to the railway station.”

Burt waited for her to go on or to tell him what to do but she just waited. He realised that she was waiting for instructions from him! He was the one in charge now!

“Er, right you are Gladys,” he said in his absurdly thick Yorkshire accent. “Give us that grub there. That’ll do me the world of good, will that.”

Gladys placed the tray across Burt’s lap, looking confused and stared openly when Burt said, “Thanks duck.”

Burt polished most of it off, though his appetite wasn’t what it had once been, and then got up. After taking a bath. he dressed for the journey with Gladys’s assistance. With a little help he applied makeup to his now lovely face. He guessed she had a knack for it because it didn’t seem too hard to do.

It confounded Burt why Lady Ann would be so desperate to escape a trip to her nan’s that she would swap her own life of luxury for his life of poverty and hard work, but he’d never really understood the quality.

When he was all ready he stared at himself in the floor length mirror. As a mere stable hand he’d never even been allowed to set foot in the manor house before. He’d never conceived of such luxury as having a mirror as tall as the wall! And he looked beautiful in it!

When Gladys left the room, Burt told her to shut the door. “Don’t come back in for a wee bit luv will ye.”

Gladys looked at her oddly again and closed the door behind her.

Burt looked at the eyes of the woman in front of him and said, “Mornin’. Me name’s—” He stopped then very slowly and carefully said, “Good morning. My name is Lady Ann Neville. I’s the daughta of— I am the daughter of the earl who owns all the land hereabouts.”

He smiled at himself and began again excitedly. “I’m a right posh lass who—” He gritted his teeth and concentrated. “I am a… cultured and… well-brought up young lady who…” Burt grinned to himself, enjoying the daydream for a moment. “Who stands to inherit all of this come time— upon my father’s demise.”

He started to gather up what things he could carry then stopped and opened the door instead, thinking better of it.

“Gladys!”

The maid came running. Burt hid a slight giggle at the misfortune of this girl who certainly deserved a little revenge for her snootiness. “Yes m’lady?”

“Carry these bags downstairs!” She went to pick them up. “Immediately!”

Gladys paused for a split second.

“Move girl! I haven’t got all day!”

Gladys hurried to pick up the bags and carry them all. Burt watched her go with a smirk on his face, then caught himself. That was really strange. As a man, Burt had always been what some might call servile, - what he’d always thought of as helpful. It wasn’t in his character to be spiteful to someone just because he had power over them. Though he hadn’t meant it as spite. He was just having a little joke at her expense. He didn’t mean it.

It didn’t occur to him, as it had to Ann, that his brain had transformed as much as his body had. The part of Burt’s brain that made him placid and helpful and been changed to the part of Lady Ann Neville’s brain that was perhaps just a little spiteful and conniving, even if it had barely affected him… as yet.

Innocent of any change he had undergone, Burt closed the door behind him and walked down to get on the coach.

3

Ann shoveled spadeful after spadeful of dung onto the cart, sweat running down between her brawny shoulder blades, her nose wrinkled in loathing and disgust.

It was easy work – her great strength ensured that – but she’d never had to do anything so loathsome in all her life. Why, she’d never even had to do any work before! Last night on the way home it had been fun to dream about really being a farm labourer but the reality was more like living a nightmare.

If Harry hadn’t been standing watching over her she’d have made a run for it already. She had no compunction about ignoring his orders. He was after all one of her father’s employers. He had a big mouth on him but he effectively worked for her no matter whose body she was in! But he still scared her a little and she didn’t want to force a physical confrontation.

On the other hand, if Burt in her body was really her only hope for getting that note written then she had to get out of there and up to the manor house soon or it would be too late. Burt would be on the train to London and Ann would really find out what it was like to be him: doing manual labour dawn until dusk every day!

Going back inside and out of Harry’s line of sight she quickly discarded the shovel and hurried to the worktop. There were various papers of Harry’s – he used it as an office – and she quickly found what she was looking for: paper and a pencil. She snatched them up and had another try at the note, convinced that if she concentrated hard enough she’d be able to write as well as she ever had.

Arry

Harri

Haree

To hoom it may concern,

Burt wonts 2 weecks olidee und eye wont you too giv him it. He wil gett—

“Burt! What the chuffin’ ‘ell are doing in there? Get out ‘ere and finish shovellin’ this shit!”

Ann stared in horror towards the doorway, terrified Harry would be standing there but he wasn’t. She looked back at the note in a panic, really not sure if it was correct English or not. It looked alright to her but she couldn’t be sure anymore.

She quickly finished and signed it off.

He wil get the tyme of from now on my say so.

Yors cincer sinseerl

Syned

Laydee Ane Nevill

She felt awfully stressed and panicky, emotions she had never experienced before, but at least it was done and she hadn’t needed to enlist that buffoon Burt’s help. That was a Godsend at least. He might have made her look like a real fool.

At that moment Harry stormed into the stable and Ann turned to present him with the note. “Er, I forgot to give you this earlier,” she said. “It’s from ‘er ladyship.”

He snatched the grubby paper off her and squinted at what it said. Ann smiled to herself but she still felt uneasy. She had an awful feeling that her writing wasn’t as good as it should have been and she regretted having to cross words out. That was something she normally wouldn’t have needed to do.

Harry chuckled. Then he guffawed. Then he threw his head back and laughed long and loud as Ann paled.

“Do you really expect me to believe that Lady Ann wrote this yer great twasock?” He slapped Ann hard round the side of her head. “You bloody idiot!” He threw it into the mud on the floor. “Now get out there and do you chuffing work before I brain you!”

Ann trembled, unsure what to do, then remembering who she was she stamped her foot and said, “No!”

“What did you say to me?”

“No,” she said. This servant couldn’t tell her what to do. She was Lady Ann Neville! “I have to go to the manor house and you can’t stop me!”

She ran out of the stable and up the path toward the hall with Harry bellowing behind her. She didn’t care how much he shouted. If she didn’t hurry then she really would be stuck living Burt’s servant life for the next two weeks!

4

When Burt went downstairs he was sent reeling yet again by the pomp and bustle as servants went this way and that, cleaning and organizing. Lady Harriet, the regal Countess, her ma, and the stony-faced earl himself had lined up ready to say goodbye to who they thought was Lady Ann.

Burt gulped and did his best to walk in a feminine way. It didn’t prove easy and the earl looked down his nose as he approached. “I trust you will behave yourself in London Ann,” he said.

Knowing that his crass dialect was going to show him up if he wasn’t careful, Burt just said the word, “Yes.”

“Good. Well be off with you then.” He strode away.

Hattie was next. She smirked and simply said, “Enjoy yourself in London Ann. You’re going to have an absolute scream!”

The smirk dropped off her face when Burt responded, “I’ll do me best yer ladyship” and she walked away looking as perplexed as Gladys had earlier.

When it came the Countess’s turn to wish him goodbye he got the surprise of his life as she took him in her arms and gave him the tenderest embrace he had ever felt. Tears came to his eyes and ran down his dewy cheeks he was so touched by the affection. “You know I love you, don’t you Ann darling,” said the stately woman.

“Of course I do mother dear,” replied Burt, startling himself at how perfectly the line popped out of his mouth. In his life he had never once had so much love and affection leveled at him and it made him feel wonderful. He went outside with a warm heart.

As he descended the steps to the waiting coach, he was startled to see himself; 'Burt;' rush up to him. It was fascinating and odd seeing this big man approach with such discomfort. Lady Ann obviously didn’t enjoy being exposed in front of the coachman, butler, maid and other staff assembled like this. When last she’d seen them she’d been lady of the manor. It must surely have rankled to have to play the part of lowly stable hand in front of them.

For a moment Burt enjoyed the turnabout before he reminded himself that it was his love for Ann that was spurring him on in this odd charade – that she would surely accept his adoration of her when they switched back.

“M’lady,” said Ann grudgingly. “Might I have a word.” Burt noticed that like him, his speech pattern still gave her away as an imposter, despite her clear attempts to overcome it. As a matter of fact, her accent wasn’t too bad.

“Aye,” replied Burt. “Er, yes.”

They huddled for a moment away from the staff and Ann whispered sharply, “Go back in the house and write a note giving me a fortnight off!”

Burt was startled and whispered back. "But I ‘ardly know my letters!"

"Just do it ya daft bint!" Ann hissed.

Obedient Burt pulled away, slightly hurt, and perplexed by Lady Ann continuing to try to ape the local dialect even in private. He went to Gladys and said, “You girl. Fetch me pen and paper immediately!”

Several paces away, Ann watched the exchange, chilled by how well Burt emulated her turn of phrase with the servants. Burt had guessed accurately how uncomfortable she felt standing now in front of her staff, flat cap clutched at her waist, head lowered. It seemed the proper thing to do and so she was doing it but it annoyed her. Why should she have to pretend to be an idiot stable hand? She was the lady of the manor!

Just not at the moment…

Which was why she had to play along; pretend to be who she looked like. Pretend to be this burly illiterate gloit. She was still superior to all of them… in her heart, even if not in reality at this moment.

She wondered then about her theory of the change in her brain. Objectively speaking, was she really their inferior now in the terms she had always believed? Was that a physical fact as long as the swap took place?

It didn’t leave her feeling too good.

Burt went inside and took a seat at an elegant corner table in the yawning hallway, taking up the pen and paper that Gladys presented to him. He felt very nervous. Despite what Ann had said, there was no way he’d be able to write anything legible. As a little boy Burt had learned precious little. He hadn’t been brainy enough to master anything complicated and both he and his teacher had known he would never have any use for writing.

Gladys standing there like a simpering fool didn’t help either. “Oh be off with you girl!” snapped Burt and she scurried away.

He concentrated as hard as he could, throwing his mind back to his classes, and tried his best to write.

My dear Mister Bramshaw,

If you would be so kind I would be most appreciative if you could give Burt a fortnight off from his daily grind and tribulations.

He looked down at what he’d written in wonder. Ann had been right. He really could somehow write as though he’d had years of schooling! And his handwriting was the elegant letters of a cultured woman!

He went on.

He has done excellent work for the past months and (he smiled mischievously) though he has no culture or breeding (he giggled to herself) and limited intelligence, he has done his best to be a gentleman and deserves a well-earned holiday.

Thank you kindly,

Lady Ann Neville

Burt stared at the letter in front of him in astonishment, especially at the signature. That was Lady Ann’s personal signature; impossible to copy, especially for a country bumpkin; yet he had written it perfectly without a second thought. In fact, he’d been so wrapped up in what he’d been writing, he’d signed the name without even thinking it. Which was strange.

He shrugged to himself and carried it outside.

5

Minutes earlier, Ann had watched Gladys, her maid, emerge from the manor’s interior, scowling as though she’d just been chastised. This made Ann smile, imagining Burt playing her part well. Being careful to simulate the Yorkshire accent, Ann said, “Ey-up Gladys luv. You look like a bulldog that’s chewing a wasp.” She didn’t know where she’d picked up that simile from but it was certainly apt.

“I dunno what you’re smirking at Burt ‘Arper ye stupid oaf!” snapped Gladys. “She may lord it over me but you’re the lowest of the low round ‘ere! You’re everyone’s whipping boy! You’re not even fit to go inside the house! You’re worth less to the family than those horses I can tell y’ve been mucking out by the stench on ye!”

The other servants laughed and Ann’s face coloured in fury and embarrassment. She may have spent years bossing and bullying Gladys as the lady of the house but as long as she was Burt, the maid really was her superior. She looked round at the chuckling faces of the coachman, butler and housekeeper and realised that she was subservient to all of them at the moment.

It was a queer feeling made up of two parts. Part of her knew that if she snapped back at them they might well flog her where she stood for being impertinent, or send her packing, thus ruining what was meant to be a relaxing break from her normal life.

Another part of her whispered that it was wrong to talk back to them. It wasn’t a conscious series of thoughts making up a decision. It was just a tiny nudge, barely even there that said they were her superiors and it wouldn’t be right to talk out of turn.

These odd conflicting feelings made Ann feel even less comfortable and far more embarrassed. Why couldn’t that chuffing toffee-nosed cow hurry up and get out there with his letter!?

At that moment “Lady Ann” emerged from the house and handed the new Burt his letter. Ann looked forlornly at the handwriting and perfect turn of phrase on the note and at the perfect signature.

She frowned at the little insults to her current station, muttering to herself at the smirk she saw on her former pretty lips. Very funny. But the joke was on Burt of course. It was him that would have to live out the rest of his life in this pathetic existence once the two weeks was up.

“Wait a minute,” whispered Ann, quietly scolding the former stable hand. “You’ll have to do this again. You’ve used a made-up word you idiot!” Burt looked at the note between Ann’s dirty big fingers at where he was pointing. “Here. That isn’t a real word.”

“Tribulations is a real word I can assure you Burt,” said the apparent Lady Ann, just loud enough so that the other servants could hear. “It means a test of one’s endurance.”

There were more chuckles all round and Ann shoved the note in her pocket testily, her face flushing beetroot red and her ears growing hot.

“Now ey up and— be a dear and help me into my coach would you.”

Feeling about ready to punch somebody, Ann stepped forward to help the elegant lady into her coach, taking her hand to steady her as she climbed up onto the step. It was an odd moment that left Ann feeling confused. For the time it took ‘Lady Ann’ to climb into the coach with ‘Burt’ helping, ‘he’ really was the servant and ‘she’ the mistress. Burt had demanded assistance and without thinking, Ann had stepped up to give it, using her man’s strength so that the beautiful aristocratic lady didn’t have to strain herself.

Feeling increasingly perturbed by the whole scene, Ann stepped back, cap in hand, to watch it pull away, growing almost angry at the fact that she’d removed her cap in the first place and still feeling reluctant to put it on while the coach was in sight for fear it might be disrespectful. Which made no sense at all!

She got slapped hard round the back of the head a moment later by the butler. “You know better than that you big ugly lump! You’ve no right to talk directly to the lady. You’re no better than the dirt beneath her slippers! Keep to your own class. Is that clear?”

Ann felt cowed before the pompous older man, even though she knew she could easily best him in a fight.

“Are you deaf boy? I said is that clear?”

“Yes,” snapped Ann.

“Yes what?”

“Yes… sir.”

“Good. Now get out of my sight and take that stink with you!”

Ann backed away as the servants dispersed; all of them laughing at her. She was furious, but reminded herself that none of it mattered now. Now she had her note, for the next two weeks, she wasn’t Burt the stable hand, she was Burt the free man! With enough cash in her pockets to get bladdered every single night!

She took it back to the stable and showed it triumphantly to Harry. The old man grumbled but he had no choice. "The whims of the quality passes all understanding!" he misquoted.

Ann grinned with Burt's lips.

“But she got this part right about you being an idiot.”

The grin dropped from her mouth and she stormed away.

6

Ann climbed up the stairs to the hayloft and found Mavis lying on the hard floor pallet, her legs spread, pleasuring herself. She started when Ann entered but didn’t cover herself up. She didn’t even stop fingering her fanny but she slowed down and gave her a saucy smile. “Ey up Burt. Wot you doin’ back so soon?”

“Ow do,” replied Ann, pleasantly surprised at how she managed to imitate the local dialect without even thinking about it. “Watching you do that is— is class, that is.” Ann floundered for a minute, on the verge of referring to how it made her penis feel, feeling suddenly awkward. Then she decided to say it anyway. What did decorum matter now? “It makes me cock want to explode does that.”

There was no point in fighting the fact that for now she really was a common man inside and out, even if it felt like a dangerous surrender allowing herself to think that. A superstitious part of her was afraid that she might be stuck this way if she REALLY admitted to herself that’s who she was. But she looked down at this half-clad strumpet and the overwhelming sense of manhood she felt made a mockery of restraint.

I really am Burt, she said to herself in the bubbling quiet of her mind. I’m really a horny commoner; a man who wants nothing but sex.

For now, she reminded herself. She couldn’t not add that, even if part of her really wanted to surrender, for the moment at least, to the full experience… Though she felt that if she didn’t fully take on this new part with all her heart then she’d never enjoy the whole masculine experience.

Suddenly, before she could stop herself she rashly thought the words in her head, further cementing her identity in her imagination.

I’m not a sissy woman, she told herself. I’m not that stuck-up Lady Ann. She’s quality. She’s better than the likes of me. I’m nothing but a man – a.. a stupid illiterate labourer about to shag his woman. And I always ‘ave been.

“By eck as like I must say,” said the new Burt, the Yorkshire accent flowing completely naturally now, “I want me some o’ that fanny! Ere, get on ye knees and suck my cock like ye promised.”

Mavis’s eyes lit up as “Burt” flopped out his big engorged member. She put her mouth round it, on her knees in front of him and he made fists with his big dirty hands as the pleasure shot through him. Before he came, he ordered her to get on her hands and knees on the pallet and rammed into her juicy minge from behind.

“Oooh aye,” groaned ‘Burt.’ “That’s reet champion that is. Reet chuffin great luv, Reet chuffin great.”

He reached forward and played with her pendulous breasts as the lazy morning stretched on. At first he’d thought the talented girl smelled awful but soon didn’t notice at all.

This was the life. It really was.