Widecombe’s Fair Mare

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The annual Widecombe Fair was heaving. The weather was glorious and sunny, so all the pretty girls wore bikinis or hot shorts and tees, and all the horny boys bugged their eyes out and stretched their underpants to breaking point. The beer flowed like wine, the shots going down like game birds in a pheasant shoot.

Sixth-formers Billy Brewer, Jan Stewer, Pete Gurney, Peter ‘Pedro’ Davy, Daniel Whiddon, and Harry Hawke couldn’t take their roving eyes off the delectable young Marie Gray.

In hushed whispers they discussed precisely how sizzling hot Old Uncle Tom Cobley’s gorgeous niece was.

Marie couldn’t help but notice their lascivious glances, if fact, she had depended on heating up their rampant hormones.

Were they describing how blonde her hair was? She guessed that they’d no clue that the highlighting, hair extensions and sharp scissor cut cost 80 quid on Friday and it took two hours of washing, conditioning, curling and teasing to get this hair into looking like she’d just got out of bed after an all-nighter with two or more amorous girlfriends.

Or was it the tight halkalı eve gelen escort grey tee with bikini top under that was too flimsy to flatten her tingling, stiffened nipples and made the grey tee almost transparent that caught their attention? Maybe it was the red-hot arse-hugging shorts that wound them up like coiled coital springs? Or was it shiney red toenails sheathed in high-heeled open-toed sandals, which shaped her calves and thighs so well, that they ogled with open mouths?

The guys shared whispered, “See her organ-stop nips?” “See her camel-toe?” “See how her arse crack’s swallowed her shorts?”

“Hey, ‘Mare’, you still Tom Pearse’s girl?” Billy asked.

“Nah, fuck him. Caught the cheatin’ fucker sticking his fat six inches into the arse of that skank Sabrina Handle without a fucking condom on when I dropped round his pad Thursday, after saying we couldn’t go out as he was working on his model railway, like every Thursday.”

“Well, ‘Mare’,” Jan ventured, “we all like messing with trains, especially Pullmans, don’t we, halkalı grup yapan escort lads? Wanna play cho-chos wiv us up on Widecombe Moor, Sweet Mare?”

“Aren’t you afeared Tom Pearse’ll be pissed if he hears you’ve messed with his Mare Gray?” Marie cooed.

“Nah, Tom Pearse be a piece of piss,” Pete spat, “Pedro here knocked him flat in a spat at the end of last season when Pearse called Torquay United total shite.”

“And ‘The Gulls’ are absolute shite,” Pedro admitted, “but Pearse’s a fuckin’ Liverpool fan and has no fuckin’ right to his two-pennyworth about my fuckin’ team!”

“Well, I sorted Miss Sabrina yesterday and kicked what shit Tommy left in her fudge box and she spilled that Tom’s fucked a different skank each of the last six Thursdays. He was supposed to be fixing his OO gauge instead of engaging with six fucking Ho-Hoes. I’m up for putting Tom’s train set to shame boys, wanna join me in some fuckin’ payback?”

“Fuck yeah!” the likely lads chorused.

“Right, you’ll need condoms, all of you, and plenty of halkalı masöz escort ’em. And, before we start, my bestie Miss Andrea Hall here will hold all your mobiles in her bag until we’re fuckin’ done. No condoms, no fucking and no rogue fucking photos. ‘And’ will take photos on her phone and only Tom Pearse will see his Mare Gray ridden hard.”

“What about lube?”

“Definitely, I wanna be airtight.”

“You will be! Where we gonna do this?”

“I’ve got the keys to Tom’s flat. We’ll fuck in his gaff.”

“Fuck yeah!”

Well, it was a memorable fuck fest, with Billy Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Daniel Whiddon, and Harry Hawke filling their boots and condoms in a rooting tooting round robin, the likes of which would shock the Widows of Widecombe if it ever came to light. Mare Grey was fucked all along, down along, out along laid, double-p’ed and airtight.

Andrea had to call Old Uncle Tom Cobley to fetch a lot more condoms and lube tubes and, while he was at Tom Pearse’s delivering the supplies, Mare Grey thrice added incest to her lusty bucket list.

By the time Tom Pearce got home with his latest pick-up girl on his arm, his flat was a mess.

The totally fucked Mare Gray spreadeagled on the bed, surrounded by the exhausted cum-sucked Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan’l Whiddon, Harry Hawke and Old Uncle Tom Cobley fucking And Hall, And Hall, and Old Tom Cobley fucking And Hall.

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