Double cream and blue tits
of
Danielle W Batts
genre
straight
Double cream and blue tits
For the last few months before I left school, I had a part-time job with my uncle, Roger. Roger by nature I used to call him, not to his face obviously. He was my uncle on my father's side, and he was a right character. If ever you wanted anything, then uncle Roger would somehow manage to get hold of it. I wouldn’t consider him as a criminal, more of a loveable rogue. Come Christmas we never had to buy a tree because my uncle would always suddenly appear with one, along with the biggest turkey you have ever seen, saying, with a cheesy grin on his face, “they just fell off the back of a lorry.”
Uncle Roger used to have a milk round. Back when milk was delivered to your doorstep in glass bottles at stupid o'clock in the morning. And when the Blue tits would peck holes in the foil bottle caps to get their beaks into the layer of cream at the top of the bottles. Three mornings a week I would have to drag myself from my warm bed at four-thirty in the morning, my blurry eyes stinging. At five o’clock we would arrive at the diary to collect our milk order.
Aside from the money, there was another good reason for getting up so early. The lovely Tess worked in the diary. She was a bit older than me and had finished her education. If I hadn’t been working for my uncle then I probably would never have met her, as she had gone to an all girl’s school, in the neighbouring town. By her looks alone I felt she was well out of my league. Tess had long dark hair, tied in a ponytail and her brown eyes left me spellbound. To top it all, she had the most amazing arse that wiggled delightfully as she walked. I would always make sure I was behind her when she sometimes helped us load the crates onto the milk-float.
I spent many happy moments with Tess, in the shower. In my dreams of course, while I was gently washing my cock. I imagined feeling her camel toe through her tight trousers. Her naked tits as she took off her bra. Me, lathering her naked body with my soapy hands. I imagined slipping my fingers into her sweet pussy hole and sliding them in and out. Me standing behind her, my hard-on wedged between the cheeks of her arse with hot water cascading over us and while I wrapped my arms around her. Tess would ride my fingers, bucking her hips back and forth, until she jolted with orgasm. At this point, I had generally shot my load, all over the tiles and watched as my sticky cream slide down the wall. Next time, I will fuck her, before I cum.
Enough of that… Laden with crates of milk, we trundled off down the road in our three-wheeled electric milk-float with the sound of glass bottles clanking together.
Uncle Roger was a well-built chap. He also had an infectious laugh and the swagger that women loved. One of my duties was to enter each customer’s order into his pocketbook, to make it easier for him, come collection day. I soon noticed that one or two customers had different collection days to the rest. Nothing strange with that I hear you say. But these customers also received a free bottle of double cream after each visit and I was always told to wait in on the milk-float while he collected his dues. When I asked my uncle why these customers got free milk, he just laughed.
“I have to look after my regulars, Lad,” he winked.
The following morning was one of those special collection days. When Uncle Roger went to the door, I followed him. Like a deranged stalker, I lurked in the shadows. I heard the knock on the front door and shortly after a woman’s voice greeting my uncle by his first name. The door clanked shut and all fell silent. I peered through the hedge and there was no sign of him. He must have gone inside. A second or two later I saw an upstairs light turn on behind drawn curtains. A few seconds more and the light turned off. I waited and I waited. I went back to the milk-float. At length he returned, whistling as he walked.
“Double cream?” I quizzed.
“Double cream, Lad” he replied, grinning from ear to ear.
The following week was the half-term break. For the whole week, I would go to work with uncle Roger, I also got to see Tess every day, and her cute arse, even if it was only for a short while. And even if she barely even noticed me, I felt side-lined, as every other milkman collecting their order flirted with her, attracted to her like moths to a porch light.
There were three special collection days on the round that week. That meant I also had a busy week stalking my uncle watching him deliver his gold top to the ladies. Mrs Woolard was quite tall and had long fiery red hair. She had been widowed, about a year ago and lived by herself in a big house just outside of the village. When uncle Roger knocked at her door I was already peeping through a gap in the fence. “Mrs Woolard,” I uttered to myself, as she opened the front door and greeted my uncle wearing just her flimsy see-through nighty. She must have been in her forties, but she still had a lovely figure and boy did she have a pair of tits. Despite me being several feet away I could clearly see her saucer-shaped nipples grinning through that nightie. I was gutted when my uncle went inside and closed the door behind him, I hardly got to see her pussy properly, bulging through those skimpy knickers. I waited, jealously, for the upstairs light to come on. When it stayed dark, I thought, maybe her bedroom was at the back of the house, so I went to investigate.
I was pleasantly surprised to see, as I crept around the corner, that they were in the kitchen. The light was on and the curtains were partway open. Mrs Woolard had a round kitchen table, and there she was, bent over it, resting on her elbows. Her nighty had come adrift and her huge tits, splayed onto the table. It was a moment to savour as Uncle Roger lifted the hem of Mrs Woolard's nightdress while she leant over the edge of the table. With both hands he pulled down her lacey knickers, fully exposing her enormous, pale white, arse. He continued pulling those panties until they were at her feet and she had stepped out. The filthy bastard even pressed them to his face before he put them in his uniform, coat pocket. I could tell he was in a rush to sink his cock into Mrs Woolard's fanny as he frantically fumbled to unfasten his trousers with one hand, while with the other, he stroked her warm, soft flesh. I couldn't really miss his huge erect cock as it stuck out proudly, after dropping his trousers and pants.
Without warning, he slapped Mrs Woolard square across the arse. Fuck, I thought, feeling a little stunned. I watched her jerk forward sending a ripple right through to her tits as they quivered like jelly. He did it again, repeatedly. I saw the expression on Mrs Woolard’s faces, it was a mix of pain and ecstasy. She was enjoying every second. The suspense, the shock and then the sting. I couldn’t hear her moaning, but her delight I could read by her mouth and her eyes. Through my own eyes, my cock had also read her pleasure, and now it began to stir. I so wished I was the one standing there with my pants down, erect with anticipation. I imagined the feeling of her pussy lips kissing the head of my dick and then her pussy consuming my whole erection.
Uncle Roger was acting my thoughts. I watched as he grasped his cock and pulled back his foreskin exposing his knob, it was surely wet from arousal. He nudged the tipped between the crack of her arse and slid it down, towards her honey pot. But Mrs Woolard was not yet ready for my uncle to plunge his fat cock into her. Instead, she stood up, turned around and presented her pussy by perching her arse on the edge of the table and splaying her legs. She then lent backwards, resting her hands on the table behind her. I saw now the glory of her womanly secret. The tight curls of her neatly trimmed pussy that matched the vibrant colour of her hair. Without prompting uncle Roger knelt between her legs and sunk his head into her mound. Within moments Mrs Woolard arched her hips forward and I watched as she bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. I imagined my uncle licking up and down and inside her pussy lips. Her bucking must surely be confirmation that he had found her sweet spot. She removed the milk-mans cap, he was still wearing and placed it on her own head. She clasped her hands around the back of his neck and quite roughly she pushed and pulled his face into her aching pussy. I read her lips as she said:
“faster, faster.” Mrs Woolard was about to cum. She became incensed as orgasm gripped her. She spread her legs wider and gripped my uncles head, hard. As every limb of her body stiffened, I imagined my uncle's whole mouth covering her pussy, his hot tongue plunging as deep as it would go into her love hole.
My uncle Roger finally had his way with Mrs Woolard. She released her grip and pulled him up by his ears. She then laid back on the table and I saw the juices of her orgasm wetting her pussy. She was ready for his fat cock and my uncle Roger could be true to his name. He positioned the raw head of his cock between her lips and with the combined juices of his pre-cum and her orgasm he inched his way into her secret place. I saw the pleasure on both their faces and imagined her love hole gently flexing as she swallowed him whole.
I thought it was the right moment to leave them to their table antics. The thought of watching my uncle shoot his load would certainly have left me with lifelong scars.
For the last few months before I left school, I had a part-time job with my uncle, Roger. Roger by nature I used to call him, not to his face obviously. He was my uncle on my father's side, and he was a right character. If ever you wanted anything, then uncle Roger would somehow manage to get hold of it. I wouldn’t consider him as a criminal, more of a loveable rogue. Come Christmas we never had to buy a tree because my uncle would always suddenly appear with one, along with the biggest turkey you have ever seen, saying, with a cheesy grin on his face, “they just fell off the back of a lorry.”
Uncle Roger used to have a milk round. Back when milk was delivered to your doorstep in glass bottles at stupid o'clock in the morning. And when the Blue tits would peck holes in the foil bottle caps to get their beaks into the layer of cream at the top of the bottles. Three mornings a week I would have to drag myself from my warm bed at four-thirty in the morning, my blurry eyes stinging. At five o’clock we would arrive at the diary to collect our milk order.
Aside from the money, there was another good reason for getting up so early. The lovely Tess worked in the diary. She was a bit older than me and had finished her education. If I hadn’t been working for my uncle then I probably would never have met her, as she had gone to an all girl’s school, in the neighbouring town. By her looks alone I felt she was well out of my league. Tess had long dark hair, tied in a ponytail and her brown eyes left me spellbound. To top it all, she had the most amazing arse that wiggled delightfully as she walked. I would always make sure I was behind her when she sometimes helped us load the crates onto the milk-float.
I spent many happy moments with Tess, in the shower. In my dreams of course, while I was gently washing my cock. I imagined feeling her camel toe through her tight trousers. Her naked tits as she took off her bra. Me, lathering her naked body with my soapy hands. I imagined slipping my fingers into her sweet pussy hole and sliding them in and out. Me standing behind her, my hard-on wedged between the cheeks of her arse with hot water cascading over us and while I wrapped my arms around her. Tess would ride my fingers, bucking her hips back and forth, until she jolted with orgasm. At this point, I had generally shot my load, all over the tiles and watched as my sticky cream slide down the wall. Next time, I will fuck her, before I cum.
Enough of that… Laden with crates of milk, we trundled off down the road in our three-wheeled electric milk-float with the sound of glass bottles clanking together.
Uncle Roger was a well-built chap. He also had an infectious laugh and the swagger that women loved. One of my duties was to enter each customer’s order into his pocketbook, to make it easier for him, come collection day. I soon noticed that one or two customers had different collection days to the rest. Nothing strange with that I hear you say. But these customers also received a free bottle of double cream after each visit and I was always told to wait in on the milk-float while he collected his dues. When I asked my uncle why these customers got free milk, he just laughed.
“I have to look after my regulars, Lad,” he winked.
The following morning was one of those special collection days. When Uncle Roger went to the door, I followed him. Like a deranged stalker, I lurked in the shadows. I heard the knock on the front door and shortly after a woman’s voice greeting my uncle by his first name. The door clanked shut and all fell silent. I peered through the hedge and there was no sign of him. He must have gone inside. A second or two later I saw an upstairs light turn on behind drawn curtains. A few seconds more and the light turned off. I waited and I waited. I went back to the milk-float. At length he returned, whistling as he walked.
“Double cream?” I quizzed.
“Double cream, Lad” he replied, grinning from ear to ear.
The following week was the half-term break. For the whole week, I would go to work with uncle Roger, I also got to see Tess every day, and her cute arse, even if it was only for a short while. And even if she barely even noticed me, I felt side-lined, as every other milkman collecting their order flirted with her, attracted to her like moths to a porch light.
There were three special collection days on the round that week. That meant I also had a busy week stalking my uncle watching him deliver his gold top to the ladies. Mrs Woolard was quite tall and had long fiery red hair. She had been widowed, about a year ago and lived by herself in a big house just outside of the village. When uncle Roger knocked at her door I was already peeping through a gap in the fence. “Mrs Woolard,” I uttered to myself, as she opened the front door and greeted my uncle wearing just her flimsy see-through nighty. She must have been in her forties, but she still had a lovely figure and boy did she have a pair of tits. Despite me being several feet away I could clearly see her saucer-shaped nipples grinning through that nightie. I was gutted when my uncle went inside and closed the door behind him, I hardly got to see her pussy properly, bulging through those skimpy knickers. I waited, jealously, for the upstairs light to come on. When it stayed dark, I thought, maybe her bedroom was at the back of the house, so I went to investigate.
I was pleasantly surprised to see, as I crept around the corner, that they were in the kitchen. The light was on and the curtains were partway open. Mrs Woolard had a round kitchen table, and there she was, bent over it, resting on her elbows. Her nighty had come adrift and her huge tits, splayed onto the table. It was a moment to savour as Uncle Roger lifted the hem of Mrs Woolard's nightdress while she leant over the edge of the table. With both hands he pulled down her lacey knickers, fully exposing her enormous, pale white, arse. He continued pulling those panties until they were at her feet and she had stepped out. The filthy bastard even pressed them to his face before he put them in his uniform, coat pocket. I could tell he was in a rush to sink his cock into Mrs Woolard's fanny as he frantically fumbled to unfasten his trousers with one hand, while with the other, he stroked her warm, soft flesh. I couldn't really miss his huge erect cock as it stuck out proudly, after dropping his trousers and pants.
Without warning, he slapped Mrs Woolard square across the arse. Fuck, I thought, feeling a little stunned. I watched her jerk forward sending a ripple right through to her tits as they quivered like jelly. He did it again, repeatedly. I saw the expression on Mrs Woolard’s faces, it was a mix of pain and ecstasy. She was enjoying every second. The suspense, the shock and then the sting. I couldn’t hear her moaning, but her delight I could read by her mouth and her eyes. Through my own eyes, my cock had also read her pleasure, and now it began to stir. I so wished I was the one standing there with my pants down, erect with anticipation. I imagined the feeling of her pussy lips kissing the head of my dick and then her pussy consuming my whole erection.
Uncle Roger was acting my thoughts. I watched as he grasped his cock and pulled back his foreskin exposing his knob, it was surely wet from arousal. He nudged the tipped between the crack of her arse and slid it down, towards her honey pot. But Mrs Woolard was not yet ready for my uncle to plunge his fat cock into her. Instead, she stood up, turned around and presented her pussy by perching her arse on the edge of the table and splaying her legs. She then lent backwards, resting her hands on the table behind her. I saw now the glory of her womanly secret. The tight curls of her neatly trimmed pussy that matched the vibrant colour of her hair. Without prompting uncle Roger knelt between her legs and sunk his head into her mound. Within moments Mrs Woolard arched her hips forward and I watched as she bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes. I imagined my uncle licking up and down and inside her pussy lips. Her bucking must surely be confirmation that he had found her sweet spot. She removed the milk-mans cap, he was still wearing and placed it on her own head. She clasped her hands around the back of his neck and quite roughly she pushed and pulled his face into her aching pussy. I read her lips as she said:
“faster, faster.” Mrs Woolard was about to cum. She became incensed as orgasm gripped her. She spread her legs wider and gripped my uncles head, hard. As every limb of her body stiffened, I imagined my uncle's whole mouth covering her pussy, his hot tongue plunging as deep as it would go into her love hole.
My uncle Roger finally had his way with Mrs Woolard. She released her grip and pulled him up by his ears. She then laid back on the table and I saw the juices of her orgasm wetting her pussy. She was ready for his fat cock and my uncle Roger could be true to his name. He positioned the raw head of his cock between her lips and with the combined juices of his pre-cum and her orgasm he inched his way into her secret place. I saw the pleasure on both their faces and imagined her love hole gently flexing as she swallowed him whole.
I thought it was the right moment to leave them to their table antics. The thought of watching my uncle shoot his load would certainly have left me with lifelong scars.
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