Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Inter-Village Orgies for the Newcomer

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For some new to the sport the tactical ebb and flow of a Inter-Village Orgy match can sometimes be bewildering, especially at the speeds the game is played at the higher levels.

Sometimes, it takes many matches, possibly even a season or more for a spectator to fully appreciate why the chicken is suddenly bewildered, or why the umpire gets blown for what seems like a perfectly legal underarm free-fondle in the opposition’s lower half.

The newcomer (please bring your own tissues) to watching an Inter-Village competitive orgy, especially in the Premiership (Sponsored by Splodge & Sons - Purveyors of Marital and Sexual aids to the gentry since 1789)) can often be confused by the use of the punt from the rear, especially when the first quarter of the second third of the first half is in injury time, perhaps due to an outbreak of itchy knee due to overuse of the flankers down the wings (this is one of the main reasons for the chicken to become bewildered as it didn’t know that its possible to do that with its wings).

However, after coming the first few times, most neophyte spectators always seem to come again and again for there is nothing quite as invigorating as seeing a champion scorer, such as our own Strom Thighhammer giving his all to the opposition’s defenders as he takes them by surprise from the rear to score a multiple orgasm in the dying seconds of the final quarter of the third half to propel his team to victory, leaving the opposition exhausted and often just as bewildered as the chicken.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Getting it out in the Open

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Often, it is said that to become an expert, or even merely adept, a man must become familiar with his tool. Many men take this advice to heart and will practice assiduously with their tool at every available opportunity.

This is, of course, all well and good, as research has shown that practice makes perfect, or, at least, more acceptable levels of failure.

However, no matter how much a man practices alone, unless he is a collector of mint-condition popular culture memorabilia, he will one day want to take his tool out into the world and try it out under real world conditions, out in the field – as it were.

A field is - of course - a good place to start. A field is a good place to get the feel of things out in the open, providing the field, that is, is one not overly inhabited by domesticated livestock, who often leave a great deal of evidence of their passing and make rather a critical-seeming audience for those first fumbling attempts to get it out into the open.

At this point, and if it is not proudly at point then a little bit more solitary practice at home may be called for, it is wise to have some lady of experience: a cake shop manageress, post mistress, assistant librarian, or even a brace of dairymaids can all be recommended for these first few fumbling attempts as they all have a great deal of experience of assisting a man in becoming adept at his tool handling and the other necessary skills that denote full maturity in this – or indeed any other – field.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Crowd Saucing

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Of course, for an entire village hall orgy, it is probably best to obtain catering-sized containers of sauce, if the current mass perversion – such as the Bacon Bap Layering or the Hot Sausage Insertion is contemplated. This is especially the case at competitive synchronised orgiastic levels, say as a summer fete display by the village synchronised orgiastic display team. Although, in such situations it is wise to use caution in the amount of sauce used, especially in places where the synchronised orgiastic display team are about to disport their pogo-sticks.

It should also be remembered that there is the danger of colour-clash especially where red leather or red rubber fetish gear is used alongside that otherwise excellent form of crowd saucing – tomato ketchup.

Care should also be taken - some of us feel - in the use of brown sauce for certain perversion, erotic acts and even some sandwiches on the half-time buffet table. As for sweet pickle, there is a time and a place for that, usually involving a brace of dairymaids and an egg whisk – however that is beyond the scope of this article.

Obviously, many ladies at a crowded village orgy will be more than familiar with the many white sauces on offer and a gentleman would be advised to remember that for some ladies a small dollop is much batter than a copious flood, especially when she has a number of partners waiting for the next lady’s-excuse-me.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Little Frigging Riding Stables

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Many of the ladies of Little Frigging spend a lot of their free time over at the Little Frigging riding stables, owned and run by our very own champion rider, Jenny Moist-Gusset. As with most rural women, the ladies of Little Frigging enjoy getting back in the saddle for a good ride, preferably one with a fair amount of jumps that have them bouncing up and down on their saddle in a most invigorating way and one which us students fascinated by the human body in motion and the way gravity affects the bouncy bits find hypnotically fascinating. I – for one (usually a quick one while the wife, Maureen, is out polishing the volunteer firemen’s helmets) - love to study slow-motion film of a lady in the midst of a satisfying ride as her wobbly bits ebb and flow like a sea meeting a shoreline.

Anyway, for persons of a different cast of mind, Jenny Moist-Gusset offers a way to become more understanding of the equine mindset, in order to bring a certain amount of empathy to the human/horse relationship by offering the chance for those people to become ponygirls or ponyboys, offering both paddock and stable based experiences of an intensity guaranteed to bring a sheen to their fetlocks. So, if you have ever fancied getting the bit between your teeth and enjoy the idea of a good ride out in the Great British countryside, you know where, and when, to come.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Atop the Peak

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When a man and/or woman stands atop the peak of Greater Frigging Tormounthillbank and looks about in the dawn’s early light, it is possible to see the village of Little Frigging and its environs spread out all around below.

For example, getting abreast of the peak in these early mornings, it is possible to see the University of Little Frigging as the cows are taken from the shed to graze in the fields while the eager students (if that is not an oxymoron) are herded in through the other door as the lab assistants in their white coats and wellies hurriedly mop up the leavings of the cows, which are often more academically credible than the leavings of most of the students, whose essays often have more in common with the leavings of the bulls than the cows.

Further along the village of Little Frigging itself nestles in a gentle curve of the river Teeb, where those with good eyesight can see the scattered bodies of the denizens of Little Frigging who did not entirely make it all the way home from the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage the previous evening, and – no doubt worn out by the rigorous philosophical mass debates that usually end an evening in the pub - sleep where their exhausted bodies fell, often still clutching the remnants of their late-night kebab or takeaway in their insensate hands.

Down at the village cake shop, even this early in the morning the cake shop manageress Fanny Knickerless, and her assistants will be getting their hot baps out for the delectation of their first customers on that fine morning.

Further on up the riverbank, sitting apart from the rest of the village, there lies the cottage of the Teeb Hags. This is where the old crones, known as the Teeb Hags, perform their mystical ancient ceremony which has, over the centuries, become known as Teeb Hagging. This highly mystical Teeb Hagging ritual has been utilised by generations of old hags as a method of restoring the full rigours of passion to those denizens of the village who suffer with flagging relationships.

These are just a few of the delights awaiting the curious hill climber, and as we know many such ramblers are often very curious indeed, when they visit, and – most importantly - spend their money, in the delightful rural paradise that is Little Frigging in the Wold.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Eroticism and the Village Duck Pond

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The erotic potential of the village duck pond is not, of course, limited to those who are aroused by the possibilities inherent in the sensuous utilisation of a mallard feather, there are many other ways a village duck pond can be used to enhance the sensuality of an erotic dalliance, and not only by ensuring that the other participants have to stay upwind of Old Feebletrousers.

For those who enjoy a lot more moistness in their get-togethers than is normally the case, the village duck pond is an ideal location: not only is it out in the invigorating open-air, it does remove the risk of getting an errant appendage stuck in the taps. However, for some ladies who like the attentions of the village fire service to remove a stuck toe from the hot tap, this could be seen as somewhat of a disadvantage. On the other hand though, it does prevent the firemen from having to queue outside the bathroom for them all to get a turn at rescuing the distressed and pre-moistened damsel as much as she so ardently demands.

For those with an interest in erotic arousal through wearing rubber, the duck pond does allow the use of wet suits, and – for those of more specialised tastes the flippers. However, participants should be aware of the dangers of getting their snorkel bogged down in a muddy bottom… unless they like that sort of thing of course.

These are just a few of the erotic possibilities of the village duck pond, for those villages blessed with a larger pond, of course, there is always a chance for a gentleman to get his pole out, for many ladies do enjoy a good poling in the punt. Alternatively, for someone wishing to put his oar in, then no doubt the ladies will be willing to help adjust his rowlocks.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Theoretical Erotica

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Those of us with a vast… experience of the erotic arts and sciences will – of course – know that putting an assistant librarian (or - even better – two assistant librarians) in the same room together with have a myriad of erotic possibilities unfold before them, not often seen outside of some of our more considered solo-imaginings.

However, that is of nothing compared to any lady’s experience of applying pineapple rings to a fully-upstanding gentleman, especially if that woman is herself an experienced dairymaid with all the deft fingerings that following such a trade bestows upon its adherents.

However, some recent work in the theoretical aspects of the erotic arts and sciences at the University of Little Frigging has produced certain theories about the use of cucumber slices for enhancement of the erotic experience. As Einstein’s famous equation E=MC2 (where E= erotic potential, M= melon and C2 = a brace of cake shop manageresses) only a small amount of fruit or vegetable is enough to produce enough erotic potential for a more than satisfying dalliance. In Einstein’s case he used melon, but any comparable fruit or vegetable can be used, just as any other person or persons can replace the cake shop manageresses with out any significant loss of erotic potential (except in the case of MPs, of course).

This, of course, means that far more fruit and vegetables can be used for erotic purposes than has up to now been the case, thus leaving plenty left over for use as salad materials or mixed fruit salad for the village orgy half-time buffet table.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

The Erotic Uses of the Duffle Coat

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As spring hesitates into life all around us, there is – as usual for this time of year – a sense that the menfolk of Little Frigging can feel themselves (as they often do) starting to perk up a little, especially as the women of Little Frigging begin to shrug off their winter clothing, thus enabling a couple of points of interest to manifest themselves to the menfolk as those women breast the morning chills without benefit of duffle coat.

Obviously, for those of us well-versed in the erotic potentialities of the duffle coat, this is something of a quandary. However, we can comfort ourselves (as we often do) that the full force of the English summer will soon be upon us, necessitating the return of the duffle coat and – of those of us excited by the prospect – wellies as well.

For a certain sort of gentleman, of which I am proud to number myself among, there is nothing quite as erotic as a lady striding though the summer rain in nothing but a duffle coat and wellies, ready – and willing - to take you in hand and lead you to a bower for a quick pre-village hall orgy refresher course in the erotic possibilities inherent in inclement weather dalliances, of which I’m sure so many perusers of my organ are more than familiar.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Not Country Matters

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Now, it would be wrong for any admirer of my organ to come to the conclusion that we village-dwellers spend all our time indulging in the erotic arts and sciences at both a practical and theoretical level, leaving no time for other pursuits.

Apart from the twice-weekly village orgies and the occasional dalliances in haylofts, various hedgerows, the village library, the cake shop, hayricks, the post office, village hall and the occasional foray into the duck pond, we don’t all spend our time assisting each other out of our respective underwear in order to indulging in what the poet so-rightly called ‘country matters’.

No, sometimes a denizen of Little Frigging can go for as long as half-a-hour without engaging in a dalliance with another villager, which I’m sure you who are unfortunate enough to be ensconced in an urban environment will see as about average for such a well-dispersed rural area as in which Little Frigging resides.

I’m sure that if it were not such, say, a long tractor ride between the academic lounge at Little Frigging University and the milking sheds we would all spend much longer in the eager welcoming hands of the dairymaids than we have the time for at present.

No, we al have a wide variety of interests, hobbies and diversions that keep us busy and our minds far from the erotic possibilities of, say, the slide rule or the woolly balaclava for up to several minutes a day. So there is no need for anyone to worry that we may become obsessive in our pursuit of the delights of the rude and naughty.

Therefore, I would like to thank you for your concern, and now if you wouldn’t mind removing your clothes and joining the post mistress in the bath full of lukewarm custard, I will be with you in a moment.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Exploring the Bush

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There are many men who enjoy poking about in the bush (as do many ladies who prefer a sensible sort of shoe) and with that in mind UK television has just commissioned a six-part series presented by Little Frigging’s own expert on the bush, Wombat Fryingpans.

Wombat Fryingpans is well-known for his TV programmes and books on the art of exploring the bush and having a good root about in the undergrowth. Many young and inexperienced men often find themselves standing, tool in hand, not really knowing the best way to approach the bush, how to enter it and what to do once they get there; often emerging a few moments later after some haphazard messing about, limp and defeated. There are even some ladies, who despite their supposed natural affinity for the bush find that they lack the finesse of tongue and finger to bring about a successful climax to their dalliances in the bush

Therefore, Wombat Fryingpans’ How to Survive in the Bush is a must-see for anyone who has ever wanted to poke about in the bush and wondered what to do once they get there. Undoubtedly, by following his advice and studying his techniques far more people will find their experiences in the bush become far more satisfying to them and their partners as they – at last – reach the kinds of conclusions to their explorations that they thought were beyond them.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

The Village Hall Orgy Apprenticeship Scheme

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Although there is a lot to be said for youth, especially in the way their extremities do not tend to dangle in the dips at the village orgy half-time buffet table, for the person wishing to get the best from their explorations of the erotic arts and sciences, someone of more mature experience, someone of depth of wisdom and knowledge and a fine well-practised ease in the use of the sex spatulas is hard to beat*.

This is why we in the village hall orgy community (and it is a very close community, the closer the better) feel it is incumbent upon us older and wiser (and Old Feebletrousers too) participants to take the younger folk in hand to give them the benefit of our experience.

Of course, the University of Little Frigging does all that it can to impart as much knowledge, both theoretical and practical, of the erotic arts and sciences as it can, making sure that all students leave with a firm grasp of their essentials. However, there is nothing that beats practical experience on the job: as any plumber will tell you.

Therefore, once a student has graduated (with Honours) from the university they are offered a placement – often with their choice of positions – with an experienced village orgy participant who will show them the ropes; and the handcuffs and the whips and the feather (and for advanced students with a special interest in such things – the whole chicken), as well as giving them hands-on practical experience of all they have learnt, speculated and invented about the traditional of the village hall orgy.

In this way we hope that we can send our students out into the world as fully-rounded individuals who really know the correct way to approach a village post mistress with their sex spatulas at the ‘ready’ position without causing undue embarrassment to either party.

 

*Even if some of the gentlemen, of such an age, in question do sometimes find it harder than normal to get as hard as normal… so I’ve heard, anyway.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Fully-Bearded Folk Singers

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We have all – I’m sure – gazed with awe and wonder upon the spectacle of a fully-bearded folk singer as he (or she*) struggles manfully (or womanfully) with a wild accordion or feral banjo. Some of us may even have managed to survive the traditional folk-singer’s Ordeal by Cider, which they use to separate those that have the hollow legs necessary to become fully-fledged (or bearded) folk singers and those who lack the strength to stay upright when under attack from those vicious creatures the accordion and the banjo.

There are even some folk singers who have managed to overcome the guitar and even the violin – that savage creature that wails in pain when approached by a bow-wielding musician. Some say it is cruel for the folk singers to cause so much suffering to these poor creatures, but those people have never seen the damage that just one wild accordion or feral banjo can do to a herd of prime hairstylists or pedigree lawyers.

We rural folk rely on these traditions and the folk singers – made fearless by the quantities of cider they imbibe before staggering out on the stage to tame these vicious creatures – to keep us and our domesticated stock safe. Just think what our world would be like if the wild accordions and the feral banjos were allowed to run wild and free and what destruction they could wreak were they to get established in urban areas where no boy band, solicitor or travel agent would be safe to walk the streets at night in fear of being set upon by a pride of accordions or pack of banjos.

No, the folk singers do a wonderful and important job in keeping these vermin under control and must be allowed to continue with this vital work unimpeded by urbanites who just see these dangerous creatures as something natural and picturesque, rather then the vicious predators they are.

 

*As naturalists (and naturists) know, the difference between the male and female folk-singer lies in the position of the beard. The male has his beard permanently on display on the lower portion of the face, while the female wears a small goatee-style beard much lower down the body, and will only reveal it to an acquaintance once they have both consumed the requisite amount of cider for an attempt at mating to take place.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Spreading a Man’s Seed

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Once the days of spring bring about a slight touch of warmth to the rains of the English countryside, the thoughts of many a man turn – quite naturally – to the planting of his seed.

Even if he only has a smallholding, a man will want to spread his seed as far and wide as possible.

Obviously, once the spring arrives, the ladies of Little Frigging are always willing to help a man distribute his seed and will often help by making a receptive furrow for him, even if they have to struggle to achieve a good fit with his smallholding.

There are a number of men, and Little Frigging seems to contain a good many of them, who – on the other hand – have quite an impressive acreage and thus require the assistance of many of the Ladies of Little Frigging to ensure that their furrows are well filled with his seed.

There are even some – such as Grand Uncle Stagnant who have so much seed to spread around that he needs the assistance of a brace of dairymaids – with their milk jugs in the ‘ready’ or receiving position – in order to manage his copious outpourings of springtime seed.

So, if there are any lady admirers of my organ who fancy a weekend of good ploughing, or feel they could help a gentleman from Little Frigging to distribute his seed more widely, then they know when and where they can come.

Friday, March 16, 2012

Erotica for Women

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‘There is nothing quite as arousing to a woman in the prime of her life as seeing a proud upstanding gentleman waiting for her at the end of a winding country lane, dressed in nothing but his wellies and a bobble hat.’ I am sure that all the ladies currently perusing my organ will be nodding in agreement with these wise words penned by Little Frigging’s very own writer of erotica for the modern woman, Perusal Finger-Strokings, whose steamy tales of passion and rude doings have welded together many a woman’s knitting needles as the excitement of the story builds to a shuddering climax.

Those of you familiar with erotica for ladies will need no introduction to Perusal Finger-Strokings and her brand of no-holds bared writing where men are men, woman are woman and consequently the sheep manage to get some quality grazing time to themselves without having their back legs shoved down the inside of a pair of shepherd’s wellies without a moment’s notice.

Of course, being a writer of rude and naughty doings and living in Little Frigging means that Perusal Finger-Strokings is never short of material for her latest opus. For, if she ever needs a paragraph or two to round off a chapter, she can always count on Grand Uncle Stagnant to give her something memorable in the hayloft. If she requires something longer she can – of course – pay a visit to our village blacksmith - and volunteer fireman - Strom Thighhammer, who will, if she is ready to take a few things down, gladly demonstrate the use of his tool for her in the hot forge until she feels he has given her enough material to complete her research to her full satisfaction.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Rural Reinvigorations

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Obviously enough, if a proudly-upstanding gentleman wishes to partake of a milkshake then he should make haste to the milking shed and there allow himself to be taken in hand by a brace of dairymaids who will soon make sure he gets the full hands-on shake, something he will remember to the ends of his days.

I doubt if any of you gathered here to peruse my organ will attempt to gainsay, or even pooh-pooh such an observation, but there are some it seems, most likely those that find themselves entrapped in the dourness of the urban environment who would cast doubt upon the erotic nature of the rural environment and its environs.

However, as we all know, there is nothing like getting a few lungfuls of fresh air – ideally not downwind from either a farmer muck-spreading or Old Feebletrousers engaging in his annual sock-changing routine – to get the sap rising.

Therefore it is not unusual to see rural villagers out and about in the fields and meadows, all eager to take one another behind the hedgerows for a quick refresher on what can be best described as country matters, before getting back to going about whatever business it was they were previously engaged upon.

That is also why village hall orgies rarely start at the time advertised on the notice board by the village orgy steering committee, as usually participants have already met one another down some winding country lane and have taken each other in hand for a quick perk-me-up whilst on the way to the orgy.

It is not unusual to find that once the village orgy is underway, several of the participants have already marked each other’s orgy card and are often ready to move on to the half-time tea and cream cakes whilst others are still out in the vestibule struggling into their best orgy wellies.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

The Erotic Use of Sauces

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Right, I presume all the ladies gathered here to peruse my organ are intimately acquainted with the erotic possibilities of the leek, or for the dessert course the stick of rhubarb.

Of course, it goes without saying that the leek will need some cheese sauce and the rhubarb is incomplete without custard, but I’m sure that anyone with an interest in the erotic will already have both of these close at hand. Although, I would suggest that their containers be clearly labelled. After all no-one in their right mind, or even Old Feebletrousers – would want to have, say, an assistant librarian on the very cusp of achieving satisfaction only to destroy the mood completely by pouring cheese sauce over her rhubarb.

There are many, of course, who like to experiment on the further shores of the erotic possibilities of the erotic arts and sciences, but I would suggest that rhubarb and cheese sauce is a step too far – as for leek and custard…. Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if it led to questions in the Houses of Parliament, and -even accounting for the odd sexual proclivities of MPs, I doubt if one of those questions would be ‘Oooh, can I have a go?’

Well… most MPs….

Well… one or two MPs.

So, there you have it, and if you wouldn’t mind stroking it gently, we’ll see about waiting to see which of the matters arising comes to the top of the agenda for us to peruse next time.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Enlivening Village Hall Orgies

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No matter how exciting and innovative your twice-weekly village hall orgies usually are, there sometimes comes a time when it all seems to become a bit run-of-the-mill and routine. Some villages find that one-regular orgy goers have turned into come-and-goers, if they bother to turn themselves out for the orgy at all.

There are times when – hard (or not) as it may seem, the flesh nor the mind of regular patrons sometimes becomes no longer willing as they once were. They are even days when the chicken remains totally unperturbed, let alone bewildered.

However, some villages (not Little Frigging, of course) have managed to turn themselves around (and not just for the much-loved Full Reverse Dairymaid, Chips and Curry Sauce erotic undertaking) and reinvigorated all participants at their twice weekly villages orgies.

Surprisingly enough, the cure for this village orgy over-familiarity malaise is rather simple. All the village hall steering committee have to do, is introduce into the village orgies a well-buttered small rotund Welsh canteen manageress, preferably one with a high EU standard Filthesque rating (say about 8.745 shag and above) for the whole event to take on a new life and for the participants to feel themselves (and each other) once more with an alacrity not seen since their youth.

For such is the speed that a truly filthy (and – as we know – Welsh canteen manageresses are very filthy indeed) well-buttered canteen manageress from the valleys can achieve, she can work her way through a typical all-village orgy and totally re-invigorate all attendees in a single orgy evening; with all promising to come again as soon as they able, in order to enjoy her reinvigorating ministrations once again.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Sex Spatulas and Dexterity

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It goes without saying, although I fully intend to say it anyway, that any putative dalliance partner is bound to be impressed with anyone who can wield their sexual arousal spatulas with instinctual dexterity and confidence. There is nothing more off-putting – as we all know – than someone who does not know the true art of the sex spatula, especially someone who struggles to master even some of the most basic moves – such as the underarm self-basting manoeuvre.

It is disappointing to sit there in the bath as the custard cools and hardens around the neither regions while one’s putative dalliance partner gets their sex spatulas wedged under the loofah and then has to remove their flippers in order to dislodge the stuck spatulas.

Therefore it is always a good thing to learn to practice the basic manoeuvres of the sexual arousal spatulas – as with all things sexual – a lot on your own, first, before attempting to wield them in front of someone else.

As we should all remember from our youth it was much easier approaching a putative sexual partner with confidence if we had already made full use of the watermelon several times on our own in our bedrooms beforehand. It also helps to practice putting on one’s flippers and shin pads before venturing into a village hall orgy for the first time. There is nothing that gives away the neophyte village orgy goer as inaccurately-fitted shin pads and an askew flat cap.

So, remember – as with most things – practice makes perfect.

In fact, if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to go and brush up on my wallaby-grouting technique right now.

Good night.

Friday, March 9, 2012

The Importance of Pudding in an Erotic Context

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There has been some concerned in the Inter-Village Orgy community that some of the newer post-mistresses entering the sport are not fully custard-aware or even fully pudding-compatible.

Concerns have been raised that today’s more health-conscious young post mistresses are forgoing the erotic possibilities of the dessert in pursuit of a superficially more healthy diet. However, it seems that no-one has taken these young ladies in hand and explained that the full-on exertions of a complete Inter-Village orgy season need a robust constitution and having a healthy appetite for the culinary arts is almost a prerequisite for an appetite for the full panoply of the erotic arts and sciences.

As Grand Uncle Stagnant often mentions, a woman who lunches on a wilted lettuce leaf and a glass of water is going to be in no condition to enjoy the rigour of a long afternoon in the hayloft with him. This is especially the case if his bad back plays up again whilst they are engaged in the more boisterous erotic possibilities and deviations such as The Full-Reverse Ponygirl Girth adjustment or The Rugby Scrum and Lollipop Lady, both of which – obviously – need a great deal of familiarity with both custard and the warm apple crumble to be truly effective.

Therefore it behoves all ladies with an interest in the erotic arts and sciences to make sure they get a full serving of pudding whenever the chance comes up, for they never know when they will need the extra energy it provides.

It is also advisable for all who take the erotic arts and sciences seriously to start the day with a good breakfast. This is why my own dear wife, Maureen, always starts her day with a good serving of my own special porridge, which she says sets her up for the exertions of the day, up to and including taking on all-comers in an Inter-village Orgy team warm-up and practice session.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Old Feebletrousers and his Pork Sword

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It is sometimes hard to grasp these days (mainly because of the cold weather), but back in his day, Old Feebletrousers – much like Grand Uncle Stagnant was a fine upstanding gentleman, famous throughout the entire county of Upper Thyghspreader for his ability to balance a large pork pie on the end of his accomplishment whilst masticating. He called this particular trick his ‘Pork Sword’ and ladies from miles around would all hurry to see it as soon as they heard Feebletrousers had his pork sword out in the fields.

Young ladies from all the nearby villages would all rush to see him spreading out his picnic blanket in the Lower Upper Lower meadow. Once he had his hamper open, each young lady would vie with the others to be the one chosen to place the pork pie, hoping that Old (or as he was then – young) Feebletrousers would promise to give her some when the display was over.

Although they lived in the countryside, on or near farms, those were very impoverished times and the young ladies of the county were always looking out for a chance to get some pork inside themselves. Consequently, whenever there was a chance of getting their hands on the impressively large pork sword belonging to Young Feebletrousers, they were all eager to get their hands on it and take a chance of enjoying a good mouthful of it.

Alas though, time and tide wait for no man and these days Old Feebletrousers can no longer carry the full weight of a proper pork pie. Sometimes, with the assistance of an assistant librarian or a brace of dairymaids he can achieve some success balancing a small packet of pork scratchings on it, but even then he needs one of the ladies to hold him firm in order for the others to sample what was – in its heyday – one of the best pork swords in Little Frigging.

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

The Village Fireman’s Pole

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Many, if not all, the ladies in the village of Little Frigging have benefited from the attentions of Strom Thighhammer, the village volunteer fireman, and blacksmith, whenever they call on him to assist them. Usually, it is to assist them out of their clothing in the hot back room of the forge, or whenever the ladies fancy a go on his fireman’s pole over at the fire station.

In return, the ladies are always more than willing to give a bit of spit and polish to Strom’s helmet, especially if he is about to display it in public. There are often a couple, or more, of the village ladies found each day in the fire station buffing up Strom’s pole and to make it stand out and to give a good smooth ride to every lady wishing to use it.

Such is the popularity of Strom with the ladies of the village that he only has to call and they are all willing to drop everything at a moment’s notice in order for him to achieve a mutually-beneficial satisfying conclusion.

All this is mainly the fact that Strom himself is rather well-built in the gentleman’s region. In fact, the local lumberjacks have often used him as a guide to select the trees they will sell as telegraph poles and to cut the trunks to the required size.

What is more, several of the ladies of the village are always keen to go with Strom whenever he visits the lumberjacks up in the Little Frigging forest to bring those hard working men some womanly comforts as they struggle manfully with their huge choppers and their thick, long, hard wood.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Mathematics and the Erotic Arts and Sciences

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There are some who pooh-pooh the importance of learning maths, especially when these days the ubiquity of computers means that it is possible for them to do everything. This goes from miscalculating a gas bill through snarling up an entire traffic system and losing several important documents somewhere in the bowels of a massive hard disk right up to emailing the entire contents of your Gentleman’s Special Interests folder to a nunnery in Droitwich. All of which can be achieved without anyone needing to take their socks off in order to do the necessary sums.

However, some mathematical ability is always useful, right up to feeling confident enough in your geometrical ability to organise a full all-village synchronised orgy using only a protractor and a slide-rule. A vital skill if you are to achieve the optimum satiation of the assistant librarians by them being in position to receive the full effect of a rampant Strom Thighhammer without the audience’s view becoming obstructed by an errant elbow or the sight of Old Feebletrousers masticating furiously over by the buffet table.

These days too, with calculators available everywhere, there seems to be little need for a gentleman to always have his booklet of four-figure logarithmic tables on hand for some of the more mathematically-exacting perversions such as Gödel’s Incompleteness Orgy, or calculating the exact placement of the melon in Hilbert Space. Nor, even, does a gentleman need to check his pencil is sharp enough to calculate that his hypotenuse is at the correct angle to receive a fully-aroused postmistress.

This is why the University of Little Frigging feels that it has no option but to offer a foundation level course in mathematics for the perverse arts and sciences for all new students in the forthcoming academic year.

Monday, March 5, 2012

The Free Elbow and its Uses

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It is not easy to recalibrate your sexual arousal spatulas out in the field, especially if there is a strong north-easterly blowing, which plays havoc with the erogenous zones of your dairymaids and makes buttering the weasel even slightly more problematical than the norm.

Although, it must be said, Big Norm is far better at this than Little Norm, mainly by the cunning way he keeps the dairymaids in the ‘ready’ position by deft use of the free elbow.

This use of the free elbow is, to what remains of my mind, an area that has not – up until now – achieve what I feel is its rightful position in the panoply of the perverse arts and sciences.

The free elbow, and – on those occasions that warrant it – the spare knee, should by out of those arts of the perverse that should be taught to every neophyte perverteer at the earliest opportunity*.

This is why we have decided that from the start of the next Little Frigging academic year (which usually begins when it is warm enough for the cows not to need their shed in the daytime); we will be introducing a fully-accredited Foundation Course on the erotic uses of the elbow. Already there has been strong interest from putative students, despite the sometimes-prohibitive cost of bespoke trainee sexual arousal spatulas for the novice***.

 

*The earliest opportunity – ideally long enough after afternoon tea, but before the good** programmes come on the telly.

**Yes, I know, but there is sometimes one good programme on, occasionally, but NEVER before nine o’clock at night.

***i.e. – complete with training wheels.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

World Inter-Village Orgy Cup Travails

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When called upon, we gentlemen of Little Frigging are always ready to thrust ourselves forward, proud and ready to assist any village lady overcome herself and come to a satisfactory conclusion of her travails. It is, we feel, as perverteers of (very) good standing always to be on hand to assist any lady who needs to achieve satiation whenever she feels the need for satisfaction.

However, unfortunately, it does seem that there are some men (not deserving the epithet of fine upstanding gentleman) who feel that the lady’s satisfaction is of little or no consequence. We have even heard such nowadays shocking views put forward in some of the more backward undressing rooms on Inter-Village orgy match days. No wonder our national game is in such crisis, with the England national Inter-Village Orgy team managing to score only one multiple orgasm and a slightly bewildered chicken in the last seven of its matches. Most pundits have come (often with a little hands-on help from their training assistants) to the conclusion that the national team stands little chance – and, it seems, some team members have little chance of standing too – in the forthcoming World Inter-Village Orgy Cup. This is a very sad outlook, indeed, for the country that invented the sport of Inter-Village Orgies.

Therefore it would seem that the nation needs far more perverteers of good standing to thrust themselves forwards and put themselves into the hands of the selectors in order that we can have a national Inter-Village Orgy team we can all support when the next World Cup comes around.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Health and Safety and Perversions

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It appears that in their constant quest to interfere in every aspect of their citizens lives the meddlesome pests at the EU have now introduced some EU-wide compulsory High-Visibility Fetish Gear regulations.

Once the laws come into effect, it will be illegal for anyone to attempt an erotic encounter, or perverse undertaking in low-light conditions without first making sure that all fetish gear uses high visibility materials and has glow in the dark reflective strips, especially near the all-important erogenous zones (including the elbows).

Believing that the normal low-light or even completely dark gloom of the bedroom, erotic dungeon, cowshed or any other place of perversion poses a risk to the well-being of participants in any erotic encounter, the European Commission has introduced several new regulations, including outlawing jumping from the top of the wardrobe onto the integrated perversion activity centre (bed) in the dark, even when the gentleman in question is sporting a hard helmet.

The rules stressing the importance of hard helmets for gentlemen also insist upon well-upholstered buffer zones for ladies in every encounter of an erotic, or potentially perverse, encounter, up to and including the use of warm custard between consenting adults.

The EU is also considering introducing further laws to assist with finding the key to the handcuffs in time, so that participants do not miss the start of Match of the Day or any other vital cultural event.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Latest Erotic Mobile Phone Apps

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Of course, most people in Little Frigging have, for a long time now, kept their mobile phones in a place about their person where they will feel the full effects of its vibrational properties whenever they receive a call or a text.

However, with the new breeds of smartphone available the number of apps available for them has done much to add a new dimension to the perverted arts and sciences experience of the individual user.

For example, the WMW (WaterMelonWhereabouts) app is able to pinpoint within less that 20 yards the nearest person with the app who has a ripe watermelon on or about their person and is looking for a like-minded partner wishing to share it. The same applies to the Weasel_Finder app. This app is another boon to those who need to find the whereabouts of a compatible weasel, often at a moment’s notice.

There is also an English Village Hall app, which is ideal for those who do a lot of travelling and are wondering if there is an All-Comers Village Orgy in their near vicinity on any particular day.

There is also – at least according to Grand Uncle Stagnant – an app that teaches the neophyte the best way to place a sheep’s hind legs in one’s wellies for that perfect romantic night out in a summer meadow.

These are just a pointer to what is available with many new apps appearing on the market every day, all designed for today’s tech-savvy perverteer.

Friday, February 24, 2012

On Having a Man's Pointer

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At times of tribulation and trepidation, many of the ladies of Little Frigging have found relief from their difficulties by receiving a pointer from Grand Uncle Stagnant. It takes a gentleman of his outstanding achievement to help a lady overcome her vicissitudes and to enable her to have both a spring in her step and to feel herself on top of things again.

A gentleman of experience – and some of Grand Uncle Stagnant’s experiences would even embarrass a member of parliament – is always a great aid and comfort to any lady who finds herself unable to achieve any satisfaction in her life, especially when her gentleman acquaintances prove unable to come up to the mark and thus leave her unfulfilled and bereft.

Of course, at such times as these many ladies prefer to turn for a helping hand, or some mouthings of comfort, from their lady friends. I – for one – am not one to pooh-pooh such informal arrangements, especially if they are tempted to record their entanglements for posterity and for those of us who take a connoisseur’s interest in such close encounters of the female kind.

However, Grand Uncle Stagnant is always more than willing to put himself in the hands of any lady who feels that her current shortcoming can only be resolved by having a man’s pointer assist her towards rectifying the lack of satiation in her life.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Complacency in the Perverse Arts and Sciences

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Of course, there is always the danger that a certain amount of complacency will ease its way into your practice of the perverse arts and sciences at some point. Maybe one day you will find you llama somewhat less beguiling than normal, perhaps there will come a time when the thought of the dexterous manual manipulations of a brace of dairymaids leaves you somewhat less than your normal upstanding self. Perhaps even the thought of a plumber wielding his tool around your outlets does not get you all hot and bothered and close to dropping a stitch in your knitting.

Well, whatever you state of ennui you can rest assured that such feelings will pass. Often, it is just a matter of pulling yourself together or something equally uplifting or reinvigorating perhaps something as exciting as creosoting your garden shed or rearranging your tinned goods cupboard in alphabetical order can get those primal urges flowing once again.

If all that fails, it goes without saying that everyone at your local village hall orgy night will, once they see the state of your predicament, all rush with alacrity to give you a helping hand to perk you back up again.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Little Frigging Adult Education and Edification Classes

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Despite having the world’s leading university (formerly the farm cowshed) for the study of the perverse arts and sciences, we here at Little Frigging have not forgotten our duty to inform and instruct those who wish to learn more about the aforesaid arts and sciences without the formality of taking a recognised system of study leading to qualification.

Therefore, we in the village with interests or expertise in all the various perverse arts and sciences offer a range of evening classes in everything from the best way to grout a wallaby right up to and including Olympic-level perverse arts such as fully-consensual nude hang gliding (with a goat) courses.

One of the most popular courses we offer is Grand Uncle Stagnant’s Guide to the Best way of Fondling a Brace of Dairymaids. This course is – of course – fully hands-on and offers a practical guide to getting to grips with a brace of well-oiled dairymaids without having to put down either your pint or your pasty, or even miss the vital last few minutes of whatever sporting fixture is currently on TV. Obviously, therefore, this is a course for well-advanced perverteers only. Most of the gentlemen taking the course are quite-noticeably well-advanced in the trouser region before the course begins, especially when they see the training dairymaids arrive in the class and begin setting up the equipment on the benches.

For a full list of all courses, please see the list displayed on the notice-board in the Little Frigging Village Hall pre-village hall orgy vestibule.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Nature Walks with Grand Uncle Stagnant

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For those new to the arts and sciences of rural perversions, I would suggest a good introduction to the field; as well as the woods, the duck pond, the village pub (The Pervert’s Appendage) and the lawyer swamp would be to take one of Grand Uncle Stagnant’s Little Frigging Nature Walks.
These nature walks are offered to interested tourists (as well as people who are just nosey buggers) for a reasonable price (depending on what Grand Uncle Stagnant thinks he can get away with) during the summer months.
On these nature walks, Grand Uncle Stagnant will point out all the points of perverse interest found in the English rural environment. For example, tourists will get the chance to see the dexterous manipulations of a brace of dairymaids who are wiling to offer willing parties a chance at some hands on experience, the erotic use of the post office queue, right through to offering a taste of the cake shop manageress’s baps.
Of course, grand Uncle Stagnant also offers those who sign up for his walks a chance to see the herds of domesticated hairstylists as they sweep majestically across the open meadows in search of fresh holiday brochures and practice their mating dances around their handbags under the shelter of the riverside trees. Also for those of a more robust constitution, there will be - at their own risk – a chance to visit the lawyer sties and – possibly see some litigation in action.
For those willing to run the risk of imbibing some locally-made cider there is also the change to see the now rare fully-bearded folk singers in their natural habitat as they wrestle with wild accordions, feral banjos and untamed guitars and indulge in their fearsome mating cries.
Then, to round off the tour, there will be a visit to the Stranger’s Gallery in the Little Frigging village hall, where the tourists can watch a village orgy in all its glory. Also – for an additional fee – partake of the half-time tea and cream cakes and mingle with the orgy-goers themselves, perhaps picking up a few tips and pointers to take home with them after a long, informative, and – hopefully – deeply arousing day.





Friday, February 17, 2012

The Little Frigging Ladies Sex Aid and Knitting Club

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The ladies of Little Frigging are always keen to give each other a helping hand with their new devices whenever the situation warrants it. Not only that, each lady in the village can count on receiving full oral comfort from her fellow ladies in the village whenever she needs it too.

Only last winter for example, the village Ladies Sex Aid and Knitting Club found themselves stranded together at the post office – where they were holding their twice-weekly gathering – by a freak snowstorm that blocked all the entrances and exits to the Post office up to several metric inches deep.

Seeing that they were cut off from rescue by their menfolk, who had all bravely gathered in the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage to ensure that the pub’s extensive stock of fine ales and connoisseur ciders was safe from frost damage, the women immediately snuggled down together to give each other the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies.

Several days later when the men managed to sober up enough to manage the tricky business of staying upright long enough to manoeuvre themselves out of the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage they discovered – to their consternation – that all the snow had melted.

Rushing around to the Post Office – immediately after closing time – they were all eager to make sure that the village womenfolk had survived the ordeal, and to offer their assistance should any women have become accidentally undressed during their confinement in the Post Office.

Luckily, we found the women had managed very well on their own, although a few of them said they had suffered from stiff jaws and a couple had very sore wrists for the next few days. All of them though were smiling broadly and made promises to meet up again as soon as possible for a coffee morning, where they could again compare noted on the relative merits of their various sex aids and knitting patterns.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Little Frigging Village Show

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Of course, like most rural villages in England the denizens of Little Frigging are not adverse to showing off the size of their plums and melons, the length of their marrows and any other such demonstrations of size and prowess at the annual village show.

However, during the winter months it is the size of a man’s sprouts that tend to occupy the thoughts of the ladies of the village, especially if exposed to a sharp frost. Many of the village ladies would say that a man’s sprouts nipped by the frost have a nicer flavour than those not so exposed.

Therefore, it is often the case that during these colder months the gentlemen of the village spend the frosty nights out in their fields, allotments, gardens or even their smallholdings exposing their sprouts to the elements in order to satisfy the cravings of the village ladies.

Come farmer’s market day, then, the ladies of the village are always very eager to peruse the displays put on by the proud sprout producers to check the quality of goods put out on display for their edification. Many of the more experienced women in the village (and most are very experienced indeed) claiming they can tell the quality of a man’s sprouts by mere touch and the way they respond to a robust fingering.

Once back home the ladies delight in dipping the fresh sprouts in warm butter before getting down to giving them a nibble before moving on to the rest of the main course laid out on the table ready for them to fully indulge themselves to the point of satiation.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The Joy of Socks

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But soft, so we’ll have to wait awhile for things to firm up a little. While we are waiting, maybe we could peruse together this rather delightful tome I happen to have about my boudoir. It is entitled The Joy of Socks and is a useful and interesting appendage for all sorts of kinky and even perverse bedroom activities that make any use whatsoever of hosiery and such related garmentry.

Of course, as a perverteer of good standing any frequent peruser of my organ will be well-versed in the use of fetish mittens and even the erotic possibilities of the duffle coat for outdoor perversions during the colder months… and winter too.

However, indoors during the colder months, and winter, can often be quite cool too, especially when your central heating boiler decides it needs a bit of a rest. Therefore, the use of socks can become essential, even if it is just to keep the frost from nipping at a gentleman’s accomplishment.

Not only that, the use of socks also prevents the possibility of proceedings coming to an abrupt ending due to the sudden shock of parts of the naked person coming into contact with ice-cold feet. This especially applies in such perversions as: the Kitchen Maid’s Preamble, The Cost Accountant Loss Adjustment and The Plumber’s Wrench, which all require careful and accurate placement of the feet to achieve their full effect.

Furthermore, if there are any lady admirers of my organ who possess a pair of thigh-length socks – ideally in a rainbow pattern – could they see me later for a full and frank discussion of matters arising.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

CPED* UK

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‘Wait’ she said, shifting slightly so that she had her bush between where we were secreting ourselves and the distant flame-lit ceremony taking place across on the Much Fondling village green. ‘I’m sure they will bring the cauliflower out when the church clock strikes midnight.’

I crawled closer to her bush and gestured for her to pass me the binoculars. It took a second or two to refocus the binoculars, but what I saw then brought a lump to my throat… as well as to my trousers.

Out on the Much Fondling village green, the ceremonial Lord High Baster of the Roast Dinner was wielding his gravy ladle with the ease and dexterity of one well-used to such arcane practices.

The naked librarian over whom he was ladling the mystic unguents was chanting the ancient dark rites along with the rest of the villagers gathered there. Never before had I truly appreciated the full erotic force of a medley of Cliff Richard’s early hits.

I glanced across at Maureen, secreted there behind her bush and nodded. ‘Yes,’ I whispered and swallowed ‘Any time now… any time soon they will bring out the cauliflower.’

It was far more than we had expected when our undercover perversions squad got the call to attend the UK’s Central Perversion Enforcement Directorate’s Head Office. There had been rumours, of course, but the commissioner assured us that he and the weasel were just good friends. However, once he saw that we were prepared to accept his word as a perverteer of good standing, he began to outline our new mission.

Apparently, there were some other rumours doing the rounds that didn’t involve the CPED UK’s commissioner and his weasel, concerning certain perverse activities in the vicinity of the village of Much Fondling which could contravene several EU directives of the Rude and Naughty, including use of an unlicensed gravy ladle in a perverse act.

Just as Much Fondling’s Post Mistress arrived with the watermelon and the ceremonial water pistol, Maureen decided we had seen enough. She turned to the four policemen accompanying us and told them it was time to stop secreting their helmets and to come out from under Maureen’s bush to make an arrest.

Luckily, we were just in time to stop the High Baster of the Roast Dinner from pouring a ladle full of cheese sauce over the awaiting cauliflower. Once the awaiting villagers had begun to anoint each other’s naked bodies with the cauliflower cheese, it would have been too late to stop the debauchery from getting out of hand. From past experience not even the mallards on the village duck pond would be safe after something like that was allowed to run rampant and unchecked.

Fortunately, we were there to save the day. As the policemen led the handcuffed miscreants away, Maureen began collecting the evidence.

‘This cheese sauce is still warm,’ she said to me, with a glint in her eye.

I looked around; everyone was out of sight, putting the suspects into the van.

‘Perhaps we ought to check that it really is cheese sauce,’ I said, wiping a sudden sheen of sweat from my brow. ‘I… I’ll… I’ll get the cauliflower.’

‘Y…ye… yes…’ Maureen said, already unbuttoning her CPED UK uniform tunic as I rushed across the village green to grab the cauliflower.

 

*CPED UK - Central Perversion Enforcement Directorate UK.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

First Tentative Year-End Results

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NOW as at all times I can see in the mind’s eye, In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones Appear and disappear* as they play blindfolded hopscotch across the minefields of all your darkest nightmares. On this dark winter morn, when each breath taken is like the sharp frosty intake of doom deep into the body, we stride manfully, and womanfully, across the hoar-encrusted field and on down towards the Accountancy Sheds. There to gaze in wonder upon the first year-end results of the new accounting period.

Still, young, delicate, their ink barely dry – this is a marvellous time for both Maureen and me – our breeding accountants have produced their first annual year-end tax returns. Even the delights of self-assessment pale into insignificance as we gaze in awed wonder, albeit with slightly itchy earlobes, on our young accountants cuddling and nuzzling their first real figures as they snuggle down against the chill of this winter morning, their calculators clutched tightly in their paws as they sleep and twitch and dream of double-entry.

[*WB Yeats – The Magi]

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Dairy Fresh Hot Strumpets

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If you wish to utilise only the finest butter for your hot buttered strumpets, then it stands to reason that you will need to visit your local dairy in order to get your hands on some farm-fresh butter before those very strumpets cool down.

As you know, if you make a habit of coming here and examining my organ in any depth, the village of Little Frigging has some of the most adept dairymaids of any quaint English rural village. To have one of those dairymaids serve you with a fresh pat of butter, straight from the churn is – indeed – to enjoy a deeply invigorating gourmet experience, second only to having you pickled onions handled by an expert in the fondling of shallots.

Furthermore, whilst at the dairy it is always useful to enquire if the dairymaids are offering any free samples. It is often very instructive to see the erotic uses a brace of dairymaids can put some farm-fresh cheddar to, and the kind of places they can secrete a cream cracker for your satisfaction.

Not only that, they will also help you to produce your very own fresh cream with a hands-on demonstration of their particular churning methods, not only that if you want it whipped, the dairymaids are more than willing to oblige.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Seasonal Fetish Gear

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Anyway, now that the festering season is well over and even the sales of seasonal fetish gear are drawing to a close, with sales of holly-based bondage harnesses seemingly being far greater than anyone would have suspected, as well as erotic reindeer dressing up kits again at a seasonal high.

Snow-based perversions have – due to global warming – once more seemed very popular, especially with the added piquancy of sleigh balls and thermal jockstraps for the more well-blessed gentleman who finds it a bit too snug when he – as tradition dictates – attempts to tuck it into the tops of his wellies.

As for the ladies, fetish mittens are – of course, essential – as well as the new Splodge and sons Pulsating Penguin 2100 with built in intimate warming circuits and fur-lined handgrips and ankle-rests, as well as a laser-guided sight for pinpoint accurate pleasurable sensations.

Not only that, for the lady who enjoys having a well-rounded bearded gentleman ensconced in her smouldering orifice in the small hours of the night there are costumes available for that very purpose, including a large sack for him to empty into her stockings at the moment of crisis.

All in all then, the sales of these goods in the post-festive season all points to something more than just flying reindeer to pique the interest once next Christmas comes around, so if you hurry you may just be able to get your mittens on someone’s cheap baubles before the shops clear the stocks away for another year.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Up before Dawn

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As you are aware, especially if he has prodded you in the back in the village orgy half-time buffet queue, Grand Uncle Stagnant is a fine upstanding gentleman, despite his advanced age. He, himself, puts his longevity down to always getting it up before Dawn in the mornings. Dawn herself regards this as rather a good thing too, except when he prods her awake out of a particularly intriguing dream in order for her to admire his accomplishment.

If you are a regular peruser of my organ, you will also be very aware that Grand Uncle Stagnant doesn’t believe that advanced age should be any bar to putting yourself about a bit. Therefore, most mornings, once Dawn has set off to help Rosie practice her fingerings, Grand Uncle Stagnant goes about assisting the dairymaids in order to improve their grip and wrist action ready for the next time the cows are in the milking shed.

Not only does he do all he can – and as often as he can – to keep his body in fine fettle, Grand Uncle Stagnant is a firm believer in keeping his mind active too. Therefore, during the lunch hour, he is often engaged in the traditional philosophical debates that take place every day in the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage, before taking the afternoon off for some much needed rest and resuscitation with a brace of dairymaids in the haystack, before preparing himself for that evening’s orgy in the village hall.