1 comments/ 49192 views/ 0 favorites Shula By: johnniedee004 I The first time Johnnie met Shula was the day he went to the Yorkshire office to look over his late thirties with strong aquiline features. He'd seen life as a cattle drover in the wilds of Mexico for a couple of years and never let you forget it. One of the great survivors of this world. His name was James and he had a blonde secretary called Shula. Their relationship was a constant topic amongst his staff who would invent what they didn't know. Shula was a single career woman in her early thirties and worked hard to give the impression of sophistication, professionalism and efficiency. When there was a bit of a panic on, this veneer slipped and a worried confusion took over. She had a caustic tongue when the mood took her and could be very belligerent at times, particularly to the other secretaries; she swore at them a lot. Shula protected her boss from unwanted visitors or phone calls with firmness; it often took a long explanation before you could get past the desk in her office into the inner office. She bowed to his every whim, filled his car with petrol and bought his cigars. She reminded him of birthdays and anniversaries and laughed at his jokes. Since Johnnie was a personal friend of James and not responsible to him, he enjoyed a less formal relationship with Shula and, when on their own, he could pull her leg and share silly rude stories, which made her giggle. She also kept him up to date with company scandal and the latest gossip about the scandals amongst the staff - of which his new accommodation. The boss there was the Sales Director; a tall aggressive chap in there were several. On those occasions she was just a giddy blonde passing on gossip with a silly giggle. They got on well. Shula was not a conventionally pretty woman. Her sensible blonde hair-do, normally carefully arranged, had a habit of becoming slightly dishevelled when she was in a panic - her mood was often to be judged by the state of her hair - and she had pale blue eyes. A slightly twisted and upturned snub nose with a somewhat protruding lower jaw gave her a pugnacious, almost bull-dog look. Shula always dressed smartly and wore perfume with an expensive tang to it. Her figure was that of a young boy, really, with few discernible curves. She was about five feet seven inches tall. To compensate for her lack of traditional femininity, she had developed a forceful personality with men, sharing jokes with them when appropriate and drinking halves of best mild beer. She had no boy friend that anyone knew of and no admirers that anyone had noticed; she just wasn't that sort of person. Real ladies didn't swear in front of men, but Shula did. Often! She was just one of the lads, in spite of her sophistication. Her male colleagues called her Angel-tits Shula behind her back. In fact, they had pet names for all the secretaries; Sexy Sheila, Ravishing June, Big Bum Barbara, Fornicating Fiona, and so on. Shula had come to the firm after recovering from a brush with religion. She never spoke about it, but this was the story she told. II Shula lived at home with her widowed mother. After her father’s funeral, she and her mother were comforted by the young, compassionate priest who had led the service. They were persuaded to come to his church the following Sunday to pray for their departed father. It often comforted the bereaved, he explained. So they did. It was not the sort of religious service Shula had been brought up to expect. For a start, there were no pews as such. People stood around informally. And it was much noisier. The congregation became almost manic at times, crying out the name of the Lord, seeking his blessing. They hugged one another in friendship. The preachers were all dressed in white robes. The congregation sang modern hymns at the tops of their voices. It was more like a celebration than a formal religious service. At the height of the ritual, the priest cried out. “Who needs to be embraced by the Lord Jesus?” Several members of the congregation went forward, surrounding the priest with looks on their faces ranging from anguish to ecstasy, arms raised in supplication. They cried out their desire to be saved. Two of them sank to their knees, weeping with emotion. The priest laid his hands on their heads, muttering words of hope and support. In an apparent trance, one woman threw open her wrap-over blouse, revealing large pendulous breasts. She begged the Lord to take her into His bosom. One of the other preachers went to stand behind her, wrapping his arms round her, caressing her breasts and nipples. She moaned out loud. Another followed suit, until three women were bare breasted, their nipples being fondled by the clergy. When the priest raised his arms high, calling out “Hear the words of the Lord,” the congregation fell silent, bowing their heads. He spoke a prayer for all those present, for their loved ones and for the dear departed. Those in need of spiritual release should go into the knave where the clergy would comfort them. Shula was surprised to see her mother make her way towards the knave, and followed her. The three women who had bared their breasts were each wrapped in a white cloak by members of the clergy, all of them attractive, fairly young men. Their white robes helped to give them a look of purity and innocence. There were four men amongst the group. Shula was astonished to see that they were all in a state of sexual arousal. Bulges strained at the fabric of their trousers. They were handed wrap-over white cloaks which they adorned. Hidden by the cloaks, the men and women slipped out of their own clothes. These were handed to the clerics. Two older clerics came in, one with an incense holder, its aromatic smell filling the air. The other with a sceptre. The priest stood by a low altar, covered in a richly embroidered linen cloth, ornate candle-sticks at either end. Soft music was being played somewhere. The whole atmosphere was erotic. The priest spoke quietly and seriously. ‘The spirit of Jesus Christ is within us. We are his servants. The Lord in his great wisdom endowed us with the means of loving each other. It is no sin to cherish the joy of the flesh, for it is the Lord‘s wish that we should honour our bodies, refreshing them with a peacefulness of body and soul, that we might, with quiet mind, honour His name, thankful for His goodness and mercy.’ Two of the clergy came forward, one with a silver salver of small pills. The other held a silver chalice of red liquid. The three women approached in turn, taking a purple pill and swallowing it with a sip from the chalice. They then stood in line to the left of the altar. The four men followed, repeating the ritual, standing in line to the right of the altar. The priest came to the front, facing the altar. ‘We pray to Almighty God that he bless the union of these, his servants, endowing them with peace of mind, in His name. Amen.’ The first woman stepped to the altar. She held her arms upwards in supplication, looking towards the roof. The cleric with the sceptre touched her forehead, breasts and groin with it before the woman fell forward to bend over the altar. The first man parted the opening of his robe. Shula watched in amazement as she caught a glimpse of his erect cock before it was masked by the cleric. The sceptre anointed his forehead, his nipples and the tip of his cock. Another came with a bowl and cloth, bathing the penis with it. The priest intoned, “Bless, O Lord, the organs of your servants, that they may do your bidding. Endow them with your holy light and lead them to the fulfillment of your spirit.” The man then approached the groaning woman from behind, lifted the hem of the woman’s robe, and pressed himself into her. She gave a long moan of joy. Shula realised to her surprise, that she was being fucked! During the action, the priest muttered prayers. The group stood round with heads bowed, hands clasped in front of them. This, Shula decided, was to hide the erections beneath their robes. The couple on the altar gave voice to their feeling, praising God, thanking him for his gifts. When the woman screamed out her alleluia, she was thanking God for her orgasm. When the man cried alleluia shortly after, it was in thanks for his plentiful ejaculation. The ritual was repeated twice more, with the priest offering up the same prayer beforehand. When it came to the turn of the fourth man, he approached the altar as the women had done before him. But after raising his arms high, he remained standing. Then he turned to face the others. Beneath his robe, it was clear that his cock was straining. Stiff and jerking with lust. One of the clergy approached behind him, slowly taking the cloak at the shoulders. The robe was slipped over his body to leave him standing naked before the altar. Arms raised high in supplication, the full might of his phallus were revealed to all. One of the clergy stood before him, kneeling, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. After a few moments, the cleric inclined his head onto the cock, taking it deep into his mouth. From the movement of his head Shula knew that the cleric was lovingly gobbling the young man. The cry of alleluia, and the lurch of the loins, announced the ejaculation into the cleric’s mouth. ‘Take this offering, O Lord, in thy holy name.’ The priest indicated that he wanted Shula and her mother to remain, whilst the others filed out, quietly thanking the clergy by embracing each of them warmly. ‘Please, feel free to sit down.’ The three of them sat together and the priest explained that his religion did not preclude the worship of Christ through the adoration of the body. Having endowed humans with the ability to enjoy the act of love, it would be an act of disloyalty to Him to ignore it. So much aggression and anger in the young, he argued, was due to physical frustration. The well-being of the mind and soul, depended very largely on the well-being of the body. To repress feelings of desire was to encourage anger and frustration. Physical satisfaction was God’s way of relieving that tension within us. Most of the women in his congregation, he explained, had become part of the family of the Lord Jesus, through himself, the Lord’s chosen agent. Through the priest, the Holy Trinity had entered the body of the women, some more than once, to become a part of his chosen family. Each evening, after the service, some of the congregation met together in friendship and love, to celebrate the union of the flesh and to worship the body, in His name. He then asked Shula if she was still a virgin? Too amazed by this revelation, Shula nodded. ‘Then you are eligible to become a bride of Christ,’ he told her. ‘It is a beautiful service in which the love of Jesus is poured into you, through his chosen agent. Your virginity is sacrificed to God for you to become one of his chosen, guaranteed a place in heaven at his feet when your turn comes to leave the confines of this earth.’ Shula’s mother turned to her with gleaming eyes, moist with tears of exultation.’ Do it,’ she whispered. ‘But not now. Not today. You need to prepare. I shall instruct you first and, when you are ready to receive the holy spirit, I shall arrange the ceremony.’ ‘And me?’ asked her mother. The priest looked at her kindly, smiling. ‘You are in sore need, particularly so soon after your loss. Come!’ It was a kindly request. He stood and led Shula’s mother to the altar. There they knelt and prayed together. Shula didn’t hear the prayer but it clearly affected her mother, who was still an attractive lady, if on the plump side. Shula watched open mouthed as the priest stood behind her kneeling mother, removing her bodice and bra whilst intoning a soothing prayer. Helping her to stand, the priest turned her round to face him. Stroking her heavy breasts, he raised his face. ‘Bless the flesh of this lady, your newest recruit to the Kingdom of Heaven. Give her joy in her heart to overcome her recent loss. Fill her with thy mercy and Holy Spirit.’ Towards the end of the prayer, he had unfastened her skirt, allowing it to fall to the ground. Kneeling before her, he bowed his head in silent prayer whilst drawing down her knickers, leaving her standing naked before him. It was all done with the utmost decorum. Standing once more, the priest gently eased her body backwards. ‘Lean against the holy altar for support. Relax. Open your body ready to receive the love of God in your personal secret shrine, endowed in his wisdom.’ Propping herself against the edge of the altar, legs spread wide, face lifted to heaven, Shula’s mother cried out. ‘Take me into thy bosom, O Lord Jesus.’ As she cried out, the priest sprinkled holy water over her loins. “Let the Holy Spirit enter into thy servant,” Opening his robes, the priest thrust deep into her fully aroused vagina. Shula turned her face away. She couldn’t watch her own mother being violated by the white-robed priest. Shula came to be under the spell of the priest. He was plausible and persuasive. Kind and sympathetic. She would visit him for private tuition twice each week, listening to his arguments for the adoration of the body, and through the body, to reach out for Christ. He finally persuaded her that to become a bride of Christ was the ultimate honour for any young virgin. There was never any attempt by him to molest her in any of these lessons, though it eventually became necessary during the tuition for him to expose his genitals to her. Although the penis was no stranger to her eyes, this was her first sight of a fully developed penis at such close quarters. Shula’s eyes widened at the sight of it. It really was a beautiful penis. Hard and stiff, ready for her inspection. The priest explained that it was his penance to have an almost permanently erect phallus, in God’s name. Only after the holy act of fornication was he allowed a brief respite from the stiffness, he said. It was an embarrassment to him at times, but it was His will that it should be so. To be always ready to perform God’s will. The pubic curls were like interlaced strands of gold. Glittering in the sunlight, they were like a halo glowing round the base of his penis. A truly holy weapon. Shula fell in love the penis - the idol of God. Mankind’s supreme power. There was no threat in any of these lessons. During one of them, having careful examined the solid, pale shaft, crazed with light blue veins, Shula asked how it was possible for such a thick shaft to penetrate the small orifice of a woman. Although she had watched fornication at a distance, she was ignorant of the means of penetration. ‘Show me,‘ he said softly. Of course, the time had to come when she had to show him her own genitals. But she had no worries about it. She gladly removed her knickers and removed her skirt to expose her own blonde curls and wrinkled, pink folds to his examination. He reached forward, opened her thighs wide, bending her knees to get a clear view. Her anatomy was examined with great delicacy and seriousness. Gently parting the labia, he peered into the now wet orifice. ‘There! Everything is normal.’ he explained. ‘Never be concerned about the secretions from your vulva,’ he told her. ‘That is one of God’s masterstrokes. For it is that which allows the reception of the man’s phallus. it is necessary to lubricate the passage, for ease of comfort and enjoyment. To allow the thick shaft to enter into your body. Don’t worry, your folds of flesh will stretch and open out like petals to allow penetration without pain. These secretions are merely a sign that your body is ready for penetration. Ready to enter into the joy of holy copulation. And the small bud at the top will give you untold joy.’ Then he asked her if she played with herself to orgasm? Blushing at the admission, she nodded. ‘That is no sin. It is a preparation for you to learn how to enjoy the holy union when the time comes. To reach out for blessed fulfillment.’ She was worried that he might ask if she would demonstrate. But he didn’t. He sensed her embarrassment, and merely gazed at her open groin, relishing the sight of the seat of every woman’s secret happiness. When Shula asked if all men had a similar shaft of beauty, he promised to satisfy her curiosity. Two of the clergy were due to arrive at the church to prepare for evening service. The priest invited them to display themselves to Shula. She was taken aback at the drooping softness of them. They hung from their nest of golden curls, harmless and sleeping. ‘But it’s not like yours at all!’ The priest and clerics laughed at her disappointment. ‘Watch,‘ he said. As the men fondled themselves, Shula’s eyes bulged in disbelief. The tubes of flesh swelled up and stiffened before her eyes. It was then she saw that in most respects, there was little difference. Though the priest’s golden phallus was the grandest. One evening, shortly after that, Shula was told that she was ready to see the holy spirit leave him, which would be his part in the culmination of the act of worship. He sat open legged before opening the folds of his robe. She was asked to study his ready penis in detail. Encouraged to pay homage by planting a kiss on the tip of the holy staff. She learned about the testicles and their part in the sexual cycle. ‘Thy staff and rod, they comfort me,’ he explained, ‘is an indication by implication that the Bible clearly expects mankind to seek and enjoy comfort from the erect penis.’ He slowly worked his shaft up and down in his palm, showing Shula the working of the foreskin, explaining the significance of the movement. Encouraged by him, she took hold of it herself, copying his movement. His calmness began to desert him as his loins twitched and jerked. The spasms became more pronounced, his breathing laboured. ‘Now,’ he gasped, ‘you are about to witness the coming of the Holy Spirit.’ His groin muscles tightened, the buttocks flexed. ‘Watch the result of that stimulation of the penis.’ Shula stared in awe at the jets of starchy liquid suddenly spurted from the end of it. Each jerk of his loins gushed forth globs of it, spraying over her wrist and arm, until the muscular spasms subsided. The opportunity arose for Shula to witness the ceremony of bride of Christ. A member of the group wanted her daughter to find the salvation of Christ, to secure her place in heaven. The girl was seventeen and never been touched. The priest invited Shula to attend, to verify that the ritual was an uplifting experience, not to be frightened of. Also attending the ceremony were the girl’s mother and aunt, her father and two brothers. The three members of the clergy were there. All the guests were in white, the women wearing veils, hoods for the men. The side chapel was decorated with masses of spring flowers. Tall candelabra were burning. The sting of incense hung heavily in the air. A simple low altar, in the shape of a cross, was laid with a soft bolster along its length, facing the guests. At each end of the crosspiece was a single gold candlestick with a white candle burning. The organ was playing softly, people knelt in private prayer. The daughter was escorted into the chapel on the arm of her father. She was in a traditional bridle gown, closely buttoned down the front. She was heavily veiled with a crown of daisies. They approached the step in front of the altar. The priest then appeared from a side door, adorned in a gorgeous white cloak, richly embroidered in gold and silver, a wide stole around his neck hanging almost to the floor. He held a prayer book in one hand and a golden sceptre in the other. He began the standard wedding ceremony. ‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here ...’ eventually the changes became evident. ‘Wilt thou take Jesus Christ as thy only husband, to love and to cherish, and to obey no other whilst you do live. To join him in holy wedlock until death reunites you in his Kingdom of Heaven?’ Shula ‘I do.’ The young lady was led to the altar where she was laid on her back, arms outstretched along the crosspiece. Two clerics came forward to unbutton the wedding gown from top to bottom, until every one was free. Carefully parting it, the naked body was revealed. Its buttocks rested on the front edge of the altar. The two clerics each took a knee, drawing them apart to uncover the groin. Shula gasped in surprise as she saw that the whole region was bare. Devoid of any wisp of hair. In the shaft of light, Shula could clearly see the aroused state of the woman’s genitals. Puffed and wet with anticipation. The priest exchanged the prayer book for a silver cup. Dipping the sceptre into the cup, he sprinkled the breasts and groin several times with its contents as he spoke the blessing. ‘With this holy water, bless O Lord the seat of Thy passion in this thy son’s bride, that it may be fertile and multiply.’ Handing the cup and baton to a waiting cleric, he faced the congregation, opening his own gown. The sight of his erect penis was stunning. Glorious and omnipotent. The golden curls glowed at its base, like the rays of a rising sun. ‘May the grace of our Lord enter into His servant’s loins. Fill it with Thy spirit that it may anoint the young virgin with Thy baptismal waters.’ As he spoke, he slowly pulled back the foreskin, revealing the shining knob end. ‘Amen,’ came the response. Turning back to the reclining bride, he approached between her legs. ‘With this holy instrument, I thee wed in the name of Christ the Lord. Take it and revere it for ever, for it is thine to have and to hold from this day forth.’ As the music played, the priest began his movement. Arms raised in supplication, his robe slipped from his shoulders. His bare back was exposed. The muscles of his buttocks rippled as he thrust his groin in and out of the woman’s thighs. The guests looked on, faces set in earnest expressions. Some of the men were licking their lips at the sight. The clergy began to recite the Lord’s Prayer. The congregation joined in, watching the hips of the priest heaving at the reclining figure. As the prayer came to an end, all watched in anticipation. The bride was quietly wailing in anguish. ‘I love you, Lord Jesus. Fill me with thy holy seed. Deeper and deeper. Ohh!’ Suddenly, the priest cried out. ‘With the contents of this hold rod I thee endow. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’ The muscles in his buttocks tensed. They paused before giving an abrupt jerk. There followed several more spasmodic thrusts of his buttocks announcing the release of the holy spirit into the willing shrine of the sighing bride. ‘Alleluia!’ When it was all over, the priest stepped back. Two clerics placed his gown over his shoulders and he left quietly through the door he had come from. The bride was covered over with her wedding gown and veil before standing. Guests rushed up to congratulate the bride. ‘How was it dear?’ an anxious mother enquired. ‘Well done,’ the father muttered with a smile. Shula left much disturbed. She could not ever bring herself to take part in such a ceremony. It was clear to her that she just could not believe in this interpretation of the bible. Her mother had been carried away by the emotion of it all. But Shula was too down-to-earth. There had been times, oh yes! many times, when she was near to believing it all. But something held her back. That night she went over the whole ritual in her mind, gently masturbating, until her senses reached their zenith and she tumbled into a satisfying orgasm. She had a dream in which the priest appeared to her as the devil. His clerics were all demons, although smiling kindly and clothed on white robes, there were the horns. The evil glint in the eyes. In her ears echoed the words she remembered from school. ‘The devil hath the power to assume a pleasing shape. Yea, even in the hallowed church of the Lord, the devil hath taken root to tempt poor mortals to acts of folly; acts of lewdness and filth.’ Shula never went into that church again. There were many arguments with her mother who was besotted by the rituals. The experience had given her a new lease of life. But Shula returned to the conventional Anglican Church, seeking absolution from the near miss of entering into a compact with the devil. III Shula drove a red mini. Her reputation was that of being one of the worst drivers of all time; no-one willingly sat in the passenger seat when she was at the wheel. She was mad. She drove with the same professional aggression she used in her office, keeping up a loud stream of verbal abuse hurled indiscriminately at other road users. Each year, the Sales Division had a conference which ended with a dinner dance and booze-up. It was usually held in at a good hotel in the different sales centres each year. It was timed to take place near Christmas with the senior executives and top marketing managers invited to join in the annual fun and games. There would be about fifty people altogether. Shula had the responsibility for making the arrangements the organising the conference. It had become the custom for the staff of each sales office to take part in a cabaret with some of the pieces - monologues, sketches or songs - specially written for the event. A friendly rivalry had sprung up between the offices for providing the best entertainment. This took place after the dinner when early drinks in the bar and wines during the meal had loosened up the atmosphere. By that time, the guests could be relied on to laugh at anything silly. And they did. They were then expected to decide which office had provided the best entertainment by gauging the volume of cheers for each office effort at the end of the entertainment. Only fifteen minutes were allowed each for office to perform. Johnnie was usually drafted in by the Sales Director to prepare the material for the Yorkshire office and to organise rehearsals. That means that he was always invited to the annual do's and was given Shula's help to type out the scripts and copy them. The last conference was hosted by the Midlands office. A comfortable four-star hotel in spacious grounds had been chosen for the occasion. Johnnie had produced some good material that year. Certainly, James was delighted with it and was looking forward to the evening. Johnnie travelled alone to the hotel so that he could get back in his own time rather than have to rely on someone else. It was a cold day and getting through Wakefield proved a bit tiresome. When he reached the hotel it was already dark but there was time for him to settle into room number 9 (with private facilities), order a cup of tea from room service, run a hot bath and switch on the radio to hear the latest news. At half past six he went into the wood panelled bar and said hello to a few colleagues who had already got their faces behind pints mugs of bitter ale. There was noise and laughter as they swapped the latest dirty jokes and company gossip. Or argued about who was behind the shooting of Kennedy or the merits of the Beetles latest hit. The room was festooned with lots of cheerful Christmas decorations and a large log fire was burning in the old fashioned grate. There was cigar smoke hanging in the air. That smell always reminded Johnnie of Christmas. It was all very cosy and welcoming. He felt at ease and relaxed. Ian and Bill were standing to one side of the fireplace. He pushed through the others to join them, exchanging hellos and nodding greetings to others in the room. Ian was the Sales Manager of the Midlands office and Bill his senior technician. "Hi Ian; Bill. How's things?" "Wey-hey! It's ol' blue eyes himself. How's it going?" Ian teased. "Fine!" Johnnie said, shaking his hand. "What y're having Johnnie?" was bellowed from the bar counter "I'm just getting them in." He called for a pint of bitter. "Well?" asked Ian "Good journey?" "Bloody awful! It gets worse!" "Wait 'til the new by-pass opens. Be OK then." "Have you got some good sketches for us this year?" asked Bill. "Wait an' see!" Johnnie grinned. "And are you both in good voice?" "Wait an' see" laughed Bill. Arthur squeezed through holding a tray of four foaming pints. They were taken thankfully and immediately lifted to the lips. "Hey! I say! Ravishing June's looking extraordinarily bloody ravishing tonight," Arthur said "I'm going to chat her up and see if owt's goin' - who's that she's with over there?"Johnnie looked across to where Ravishing June was laughing with her mate Sexy Sheila with a middle-aged chap. "That's Ferguson from the Marketing Research Centre. Have you not met him before?" Ian said. "Can't say I 'ave," said Arthur. I'll go an' introduce myself to 'im," he said with a wink. "Can't have these bloody outsiders muscling in with our birds. See you lot later." "What on earth does he see in Ravishing June?" asked Ian shaking his head. "A pair of bloody big knockers!" said Bill. ‘and that’s all he has eyes for, particularly when she’s flouting them, like tonight.’ Johnnie laughed. He was right. She had! "Hell fire! I'll bet she bruises her bloody kneecaps every time she unfastens her bra!" They laughed immoderately. A gong sounded and, as everyone turned to see what was happening, a voice belonging to a chap in dinner jacket called out. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Dinner is served!" There was a cheer from one corner of the room and a general movement towards the dining room. We three lingered by the fire with our pint glasses for a minute or two longer. "What's on the menu tonight Ian? Usual Christmas fare?" Johnnie asked. "There'll be a choice I expect" he said. "Right! I'll join you later, lads. I see I'm sat with James. He’s beckoning." "You're welcome!" said Ian. IV The meal was a jolly, often raucous affair. The wine flowed freely and after the cheese, the port and cigars were passed round the men with mints and cigarettes offered to the ladies. Then there was brandy or liqueurs with the coffee by which time everyone was feeling in a benevolent mood. Cheeks were red, foreheads streaked with perspiration and voices louder than usual. The cabaret was announced by the voice in the maroon jacket which got the lads from the Midlands to their feet to entertain. They got plenty of encouragement and interjections and, finally, wild applause. Johnnie opened the entertainment for Bradford but, of course, everyone was waiting for the boss, James, to do his turn - a patter number they had written about the humiliation of having your name de-hyphenated, which was met with howls of approval. Some five of the senior managers had hyphens in their names, so the number went well. To finish off, Johnnie gave a patter number to an accompanying guitar about a popular member of the technical staff who was about to leave the firm. George was never able to find his slide rule when he wanted one for his complex calculations. He was in the habit borrowing one - usually from Johnnie. So he wrote a little song about it. ‘Oh dear! the naughty things he did, when George discovered how the slide of his little slide rule slid.’ After the first couple of verses, most people had got the hang of it and joined in the chorus. The last verse was about how the girls in the office will miss the strategy of his calculating games, with George taking out his sliding rule, offering to show them how! It was met with gales of dirty laughter. The chorus, ‘Oh dear! The naughty things he did,’ etc., was sung with gusto by all and ended with stamping of feet, hands drumming on the table, spoons clattering in saucers and whistles. After the Yorkshire office was declared the winners of the cabaret, to a loud and noisy acclamation, a bottle of champagne was produced by the voice in the maroon jacket and presented to James by the Managing Director. It was promptly opened for the performers from Yorkshire, mixed with brandy into a lethal cocktail. Johnnie managed to avoid the celebration by slipping away to the toilet, accompanied by loud suggestive comments from other tables. Then the dance band struck up, the tables cleared, with jugs of foaming ale appearing on them. And the night wore away to the strains of the quick step, slow fox trot and the waltz. The air was blue with cigar smoke. Eventually, some tottered off to their beds, the worse for the drink, having decided they'd had enough for one day. Others were dancing - if that's what the shuffling around could be called - smooching together through an alcoholic haze. The lights had been turned down low to hide their roving hands and indiscretions. The others were either propping up the bar in the next room or sat around in corners swapping stories. By the time midnight came, it was hot in the room. Most had discarded their jackets. Everybody was well gone with the drink, the heat, the smoke and the noise of the band. Johnnie had joined Ian and Bill at a table at the side of the band, exchanging friendly banter about their entertainment. They were having a good laugh, telling each other how good they all were, their words slightly slurred. A break came in the dancing and Johnnie noticed Shula come into the room from the bar, clutching a glass. She stood silhouetted in the doorway, swaying for a moment, trying to pierce the gloom as she peered round the room. He thought she was looking for James but he hadn't been seen around for some time; not since finishing off the champagne and brandy. Shula spotted the three of them, waved, and came sloping across the room with a purposeful swing of the free arm. "Look out!" Ian said. "It’s Angel-tits Shula. I don't fancy that determined look on her face. "She's after one of us! And I don't fancy her - not the boss's secretary, thank you. I'm off to the bar." "Me, too!" said Bill, moving away with Ian as a pretext for leaving me alone. "Hi! Shula! what are you drinking?" Johnnie asked as she approached the table. "This is Vodka" she said, and added "with lots of bloody tonic. So I suppose I'm half pissed. But I want a dance. Come on, John." The band had struck up. She put her glass on the table and pulled Johnnie to his feet. She was a bit unsteady and he grabbed her round the waist to steady her. Although Shula was a fairly hardened drinker, it seemed that she'd probably had more than enough for one night. "You know I can't dance!" Johnnie protested, putting his glass on the table. "Neither can any of them on the floor," she snorted gesturing to the dance floor "so, bloody come on." The dance floor was filling up with other couples. "Where's James?" Johnnie asked. Shula had been looking after him like a mother hen all day not letting any of the other women get too close. "Gone to bed!" she snapped. Hello, Johnnie thought, she's in a belligerent mood. "He's bloody gone to bed. Too much of that champagne and brandy I expect! Silly sod! Come on!" She dragged him onto the dance floor, put her arms round his waist and rested her cheek against his shoulder and started swaying her hips. The band was playing a slow fox trot. As they shuffled round the dance floor Johnnie gradually realised that he could feel her nipples stiffening against his shirt. She was wearing a thin nylon sleeveless long dress with narrow shoulder straps and not much else. Johnnie tried to look down her dress but it was too dark to see anything resembling a nipple, stiff or otherwise. Johnnie pulled her in close and sang softly in her ear, to the tune being played. "I'm looking for an Angel, but Angels have no tits, So until the day that one comes along, I'll make do with your deficits..." She giggled and nudged him with her elbows and rocked her body from side to side with the music. ‘Don’t be rude!’ Johnnie felt her nipples rubbing against him. To his surprise, the friend in his groin did the same stiffening act. And she pushed her hips into him, rubbing gently. Hello! Johnnie thought, what's she after? "The entertainment was very good, tonight. And I liked your song about George and his sliding rule," she giggled "it was rude!" "Supposed to be." he told her. "Made them laugh, anyway." "Made me feel a bit on the fruity side!" she said quietly. "Do you know, I can feel your sliding rule right now. Getting longer and stiffer by the second." She giggled again. "You're nothing but a prick teaser, Shula." he whispered to her, telling her off. "Just trying to get me worked up and then you'll leave me high and dry, you bugger." She giggled. "Go on! You like it though, don't you?" she said. Johnnie was rubbing his hand up and down her back, trying to arouse her passion and to get his own back on her. Realising that he could feel no bra strap nor any knicker-top under the dress, he leaned his shoulders back and looked at her in mock surprise "Hey! I say! Haven't you got anything on under this dress?" "Not a stitch," she admitted with a so-there smile, "It's too hot and, besides, it feels sexy and rude. And you're getting as hard as a rock. And I'm getting very wet and squelchy you-know-where, and very, very fruity." "You dirty sod!" Johnnie mocked. "Anyway, we can't do it here. Not here on the dance floor." "It'd certainly cause a sensation if we did." She laughed in her girlish way. "Perhaps we ought to go somewhere quieter where I can wipe you dry." Johnnie said half jokingly bringing his right hand between their two bodies to rub the palm over her nipple to tease her some more. She gave a faint shudder and looked at him thoughtfully with her head on one side for a moment as they continued to shuffle round the dance floor. Her pale blue eyes meditated for a couple of seconds. "Do you know, I'd like that. Honestly!" She was serious. Then added "But I'm too scared." It was Johnnie’s turn to look surprised. "There!" she said, "That surprises you, I bet." "Scared? What're you scared of? Why scared? That's a funny word. You've done it before often enough, I'm sure." She looked over each shoulder to make sure no-one was watching her, before putting her hand furtively between them, pressing against the hardness in his trousers. She looked at him with a suppressed smirk. "No I haven't! I've never done it at all. Not at all! I came pretty close to it once or twice, but I'm afraid I'm still a virgin - more or less." "More or less? What's that mean. Either you're a virgin or you’re not a virgin, you daft bugger!" "Never you mind! What I mean is that I'm twenty-nine and never been fucked. Oops," she giggled, then turned suddenly serious. "Hey! don't go telling all the others, will you John? They'll all want to break me in!" "Well! Bugger me! You surprise me sure enough," He couldn't really see many of the lads queuing up to fuck Shula. "Of course I won't say anything! Anyway, nobody'd believe me." Had Johnnie been sober he might have been embarrassed by her sudden forwardness. "But right now, I really would like to feel that inside me," she breathed in his ear and rubbed her open palm up and down. "You're probably the only chap I know I'd let break me in, but I daren't. And I'm only saying this 'cause I'm pissed and feeling fruity. Tomorrow, I'll not dare look you in the face." Johnnie looked round in a bit of a panic, but nobody was taking any notice. They were all concentrating on their own partners. Arthur had his hand inside Ravishing June's dress and was caressing her breast quite openly and nibbling her ear lobe. June caught me looking at them and gave a broad wink. She was clearly enjoying herself as well. Bill was drooling over Sexy Sheila in the corner, having given up any pretence of dancing. Her eyes were hooded and unfocussed with the alcohol. "Look!" Johnnie whispered, "If you go on doing that, I'll end up doing something embarrassing in my trousers pretty soon.” Shula Shula giggled. “Oo! Yes please!” “So either give up, or come on! I'm going to my room. I've got a bottle of brandy and we can talk better there. If you're serious about being broken in, follow me when you're ready." He led her off the floor to the table. Ian and Bill had moved off into the bar. Angel-tits Shula stood with a puzzled look in her eyes as Johnnie held his jacket in front of him to hide the bulge. "That's if you really want it. Don't be too long. The room is number 9. But I shan't be offended if you change your mind, 'cause I know you're just a tease really." Johnnie took her in his arms, pressed against her, rubbing himself hard against her crotch to give her some encouragement. She looked very uncertain. "I don't know if I've got the courage. I'm just nipping into the ladies." She suddenly left him. Johnnie picked up his glass of scotch and stood for a moment watching the dancers stroking each other. Then he sidled out, with the occasional stagger, through the foyer, avoiding the bar. Taking the glass to the first floor, he wondered what on earth was he doing. He must be drunk to ask Shula to his room! Johnnie didn't really think she'd come, though. It was just her way of teasing. Nor was he sure that he wanted her to. It was just a way of teasing her back. But Johnnie had never for one moment thought of her as still a virgin; she was such a fun-loving lass. Was she having him on? he wondered. V Nevertheless, once in the room, he left the latch off and the door slightly ajar, just in case. He couldn't have her knocking on the door at this time of night. After hanging his jacket in the wardrobe, Johnnie switched on the bedside lamp before turning the overhead light off. He sat on the edge of the bed feeling quite sober all of a sudden. Sliding off his trousers, he folded them down the crease and hung them on a hanger in the wardrobe. Then he took out the silk dressing gown and slipped it on. There was a clock by the bed head. Not midnight yet. He was surprised, thinking it was much later. It was just then that the door swung open and Shula came in swiftly, closing it quietly behind her, standing with her back against it. Her face was flushed and her eyes had an anxious, wild look in them. She was breathless with excitement. "You see! I came, but I had to have another swift Vodka first to give me the courage." Johnnie stood to put his arms round her, holding her tight. She looked up at him. "You won't hurt me, will you?" He kissed her gently, running his tongue lightly over her lips as he unbuttoned her dress at the back, slipping the straps from her shoulders. The dress shuttered to the carpet. Shula’s boyish breasts with their large pale brown swelling and hard protruding dark nipples were bared. Johnnie teased them with one of his thumbs. She responded with awkward wet kisses. Her hands quickly felt their way inside his dressing gown to rub his bottom and thighs with urgency. Hooking her thumbs over the waistband of his underpants, Shula pushed them over his thighs. She slid down onto her knees, dragging the pants down to his ankles. Johnnie stepped out of them as the dressing gown fell open. His rapidly stiffening friend confronted Shula. He said nothing. He just stood and watched as a helpless by-stander, as his penis thickened and stiffened in front of her nose. Shula froze, staring slack-mouthed, wide-open eyes transfixed at the sudden appearance of his friend. She licked her dry lips nervously and slowly as she watched it jerk itself to its full stretch. Putting her hands either side of the penis, she stroked them down the shaft until they held the testicles, cupping them as though holding a glass of brandy. "I can't take all that!" she muttered as she stared at it, shaking her head in disbelief. "I know I can't!" Johnnie didn't flatter himself that he had anything out of the ordinary in size and shape of his equipment, so perhaps she wasn't too familiar with the male appendages after all. "Of course you can, Shula darling. It's only regulation size. Nothing spectacular. We'll just ease it in gently and slowly." She looked up at him. Her eyes were filled with apprehension. "No! I don't think I have the courage. I know it'll hurt." Johnnie helped her to her feet and smiled. "You really are scared, aren't you? Is that why you're still a virgin?" She nodded. "Come here, sit on the bed and calm yourself. Tell me all about it. I'll get you a brandy to calm your nerves." He poured stiff brandies and laced them with water. As he was pouring them, she explained. "I've always been scared of sex. Ever since I was quite a young girl. I remember waking up one night to hear my mother whimpering in the next room. The bed was creaking heavily and there was a lot of bumping. I was scared, but I crept to the door and looked in. I heard my mother give a stifled wailing cry. Almost a scream. She was lying face down on the bed with nothing on. My father was lying on top of her bouncing up and down and grunting loudly. You're killing me! she cried out into the pillow. I thought he was really hurting her. Then he rolled off her and I saw this enormous angry looking thing sticking up out of his belly. I thought he'd tried to murder her with it. I was only a kid. I was terrified. I crept back to bed and cried. It happened once or twice after that. My mum always ended up wailing and giving these stifled cries. I could never understand why my dad wanted to hurt her. I never ever told anybody and I know now it's daft, of course, but I've never been able to make it with a feller," She sat quietly for a few seconds. "Whenever I saw their… thing, I'd remember my mother being hurt by my dad's thing. As soon as they realised I was too nervous of them, and was reluctant to give in to them, they either lost interest and left, or just asked me to finish them off with my hand ... or something. I didn't mind that. In fact I rather liked it. It gave me a funny sort of sense of power over them. One feller, I remember, got a bit rough with me when he saw I wasn't willing to let him have me. He tried to beat me. Fortunately, he was restricted by the lack of space in the car. I managed to get out of it, and before he could pull his trousers up, I ran to where I'd left my own car. I lost a shoe and a lot of pride as well, I think, on the way. He actually chased me in his car, and tried to drive at me, but I managed to get to the main road just in time. I don't mind telling you, I was terrified; I thought he was going to injure me - kill me even - he was so mad at me." She sniggered quietly. "I only hope his wife found my dirty knickers in his glove compartment. So, after that I really was scared of sex. So I just kept away from temptation. That's quite a few years ago, now." She paused and started to cry softly. Johnnie handed her a paper hanky but didn't say anything. There was nothing he could say, really. "I'm only telling you all this because I'm a bit drunk and because I really have led you on, haven't I? I didn't mean to. It just sort of happened. I was a bit mad at the boss for leaving me on my own. Not that I want anything from him, or anything like that, but while he's around I know nobody will try to feel me up, or anything. I feel safe with him there. And he let me down. The rotten bugger! When I saw you sat with Ian and Bill, I thought I'd be safe with you. So that's why I came to join you. Then, on the dance floor, I began to feel randy. I often do, even at the most unlikely times. I played you up I'm afraid. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to tease you, but things got a bit out of hand with all the booze and things. And I suddenly thought that if I was going to lose my virginity before I'm too old, it would need to be with someone I liked and trusted. I'm only glad you're a gentleman. And I really mean gentle man, Johnnie. And you're not bad looking either! Sorry!" Johnnie felt deeply sorry for this forlorn lass. "Well!" he said, "we can try again if you like, and you can stop me at any time you want to. Take it a step at a time. Then it'll be easier the next time, and so on. Are you still feeling randy?" She nodded with a wry smile, wiping her eyes. "I usually am! And I'd like to try," she said. Johnnie put his right arm round her and kissed her on the lips. Just a friendly kiss to give her some confidence. he gently rubbed his other hand over her nipples. She began responding clumsily. Her hand fumbled between his thighs for his dormant friend which had long given up any hope of a burial. But the muscle stirred itself, taking an interest again. Shula’s eyes opened wide with wonder as she slowly caressed it up and down, watching it swell and lengthen. "Come on love," he said as he lay her quietly down onto the bed "trust me." Johnnie eased her onto her back, exposing fully the narrow waist, laying bare her equally narrow thighs. She made no objection, laying there inert. Her eyes were closed tight and her lips pressed together with determination. She slowly allowed him to part her thighs and stroke her wispy blonde pubic hair over the hard mound above the taut vulva. Finger and thumb parted the narroe outer lips to expose her pale labia, which were thin and scant. They didn’t seem fully developed, but were, however, certainly wet enough to be broken into! Johnnie ran his middle finger upwards between the slippery lips to reach her little button. Her hips jerked at the touch. Rubbing the pad of the finger over the clitoris for a second or two, he watched as the vulva dilated and closed with excitement, oozing its honey. Then, with the fingers of one hand gently teasing the folds of slippery flesh, the other fastened round his now solid friend. Hoisting his leg over her thighs, he pulled his cock between them until it reached the thin lips. Slowly and gently, Johnnie rubbed it up and down the oozing crack, nudging the pink lips open, ready for its penetration. Then, quite suddenly, Shula squirmed sideways, and sat up with a look of horror in her eyes. Half-knelt on the bed, Johnnie wondered what on earth was wrong this time. "I think I'm going to be sick," she said, hurriedly slipping her dress back over her shoulders and getting off the bed. "I shouldn't have had that other vodka." Shula pulled the door open and lurched away down the dim corridor. "Oh no!" Johnnie wailed to himself. But, in a way, he was glad really. The last thing he wanted was any kind of emotional tie with poor Shula. As he climbed into his pyjamas, Johnnie wondered if she'd ever have the courage to go through with it. He would never know, he supposed. Swigging down the rest of the brandy left in the glass, he climbed into bed. ‘Thirty-nine and never been fucked!’ he said aloud to himself. ‘Bloody hell!’ VI The next morning Johnnie woke to the ring of the telephone morning call. It was 7.30. His brain started getting into gear and he remembered where he was. His friend was stiff, pressing hard into his belly. The need for a pee got him out of bed, staggering into the bathroom; his friend subsided and as he relieved himself. The mirror showed a brighter looking face than it deserved to be, with reasonably alert eyes. Back in the bedroom he sat on the bed. There was a tap on the door. 'Come in!' Johnnie called to the maid with the tea tray. Only it wasn't the maid - it was Mrs Yates. 'Helping them out, John' she said as she put the tray on the bedside table. 'Looking after my brood and keeping that poor maid out of your evil clutches. Breakfast no later than half past eight, love. Don't be late' and she went. No sooner had he poured the tea and swung his legs back into bed for ten minutes, than the door quickly opened and Shula darted in. She was wearing a cotton dressing gown and a wide cheeky grin. he opened his mouth to speak. 'Sh-h-h' she warned as she closed the door quickly and silently. She turned the key. 'Mrs Yates is just down the corridor.' She giggled and ran to the bed. Her movements were marionette-like as she crossed to Johnnie. 'Just a quick tease' she said. Shula sat on the edge of the bed, opened Johnnie’s pyjama jacket and began to tickle his chest. Her gown fell open and through her nylon nightie Johnnie could see her nipples; large, dark and stiff. Those boyish breasts tipped with big, hard nipples. He wondered how a blonde could have such dark skin colouring. His friend wasn't bothered with such questions. It was responding quickly, lifting its head with a show of surprised interest. Johnnie rubbed the left nipple with the palm of his hand but she brushed it away. 'No! Don't do that, I'm not staying!' Her whisper had a nervous breathiness and she giggled again. 'I've only popped in for a quick tease.' 'Just get off a minute' Johnnie said pushing her to one side. 'Why?' she said as she lifted her bottom off the bed, and knelt beside it. 'Just look what you've done!' he said dramatically, flicking the cover away revealing his now fully stiff prick. 'Look at it!' Johnnie accused her, pointing at the upright part. 'Look what you've done again!" 'Oh! My God!' she blurted, giggling, and covered her eyes with the palms of her hands. 'Cover it up again, please, John.' But she immediately opened her palms like blinkers and sneaked another look at it. Then, suddenly, she pushed it to one side. "I've sobered up since last night; I don't want to see it! I'm going. Here though; take a quick look at this!' She stood up, lifted the hem of her night-gown and thrust her groin out as she bent her knees slightly. For a brief moment Johnnie saw the sparse tuft of blonde hair and the glistening lips of her fanny showing through. And then she dropped the hem and turned for the door with another giggle. 'Aw! Come on Shula. Don't go yet. You teased it enough last night, you devil, and left it all frustrated.' She turned. 'You're a dirty old man, you bugger' There was a laugh in her voice. Noticing her eyes drawn to the proud penis, Johnnie jerked its muscles to excite her attention. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. 'Gosh! It's as though it had a mind of its own." 'It has. A one-track mind. Come on!' he encouraged her. 'I know you only came in for a quick feel but I'll bet you're feeling fruity, so come here. Now's your chance to finish last night's business." She stepped quickly to the side of the bed - a brief pause before she knelt, fascinated by the twitching penis. Her right hand touched it nervously, and pulled back quickly. 'Go on!' he said, 'it won't bite.' he jerked again it for her. 'No! I mustn’t' she said, eyes glued to his cock, as she reached out for the jerking stem again with her finger tips rubbing them lightly and quickly up and down the shaft. Johnnie gently played with her left nipple; her face had got closer to the object of her concentration. She made no move to brush away his hand. So he carefully slipped his hand into the top of her nightdress and took her nipple between the tips of his thumb and fingers, rolling it gently . It was as hard as a nut. 'No John! You mustn't let me touch you. It's wrong! It's dirty!' She was talking breathlessly as though to herself. He could feel her breath on his shaft as she eased it sideways to face her. And then her fingers curled round it - or as far round as they would go - and she jerked it up and down, slowly, her eyes staring at it with a burning concentration. "Gosh! I'm dripping wet!" She was breathing hard. "Can I feel yours?" Johnnie asked. "No, you bloody can't!" but her breathing was getting heavier. She gave a whimper and sigh. "That's all you're getting," she said and pulled the bedclothes over his loins. That was sudden, he thought. Has she come? he asked myself. "Now for quick tickles," she announced, quickly sitting astride Johnnie. With silly giggles Shula began tickling his chest and armpits. Johnnie knew that her behaviour was tenuous. After what she had told him last night, she might quickly scuttle away like a startled rabbit if he tried to force myself on her. So he giggled back at her, pretending to buck her off by jerking his loins up and down, pushing against her breasts with the palms of his hands. She clung tight to his thighs with her knees, whilst keeping up a string of giggling. "I've got you now!" she blurted through her laughter and pinning his shoulders to the bed. "No, no, no! Stop it!" Johnnie giggled helplessly at her, pretending to be overcome by her tickling as he tossed this way and that. But he then realised that the bucking motion combined with his rolling from side to side had dislodged the bedclothes so that Shula was actually sitting astride his stiff friend. Not only that, but in straddling over him, the hem of her nightie had been pushed up around her waist. Looking straight down the inside of her billowing nightie Johnnie could see the blonde tuft of hair pressing against his shaft. He kept up the pretence of trying to buck her off me whilst managing to manoeuvre the head of his friend between the wet thin lips. They suddenly relaxed the struggle to regain breath. Shula looked at Johnnie with indecision. He felt the heat of her wet lips now fully astride his friend, pressing down hard with a slight rubbing motion. He was still gently rocking from side to side against her little button. It only needed a dip down and a push upwards for his friend to be well and truly wedged inside her. And she would be finally broken in. The movement was having the usual effect on Johnnie. He could feel the tension in his loins building up. He knew he couldn't last much longer. Shula sensed it as well. She sat up suddenly as she whispered urgently to herself "Come on then! Let's have it! Come on! Stop pissing about! Get it in! Come on you bugger!" Just then there was a rap on the door and the handle rattled. "Are you in there Shula?" It was Mrs Yates. Shit! Shula sat stock still for a brief moment. "Oh! My God!" she wailed, beating the bedclothes with her fists. Leaping off the bed, she pulled her nightie down as she ran for the door. Johnnie pulled the bed covers over his naked front and picked up the cup and saucer. Shula wrapped her gown close round her before unlocking the door. Mrs Yates pushed it open, looking quickly round for any evidence of illicit goings on. "You little devil!" "We were only talking about the first paper for conference. It's all right!" "With the door locked? Go on you little crack pot." And Mrs Yates pushed her down the corridor. She gave Johnnie an accusing look, her eyes resting on the bulge under the covers. "You're a dirty bugger" she said "and I'll bet I was only just in time by the look of that." She gave a tut or two and a shake of the head and closed the door! Johnnie pulled the covers open again. "Hard lines, again, my friend." But his friend had already lost interest, deflating himself on his right thigh smearing the drop of liquid on the skin like a snail's silky trail. Ah well! Time to get up, shave, shower and spruce up. VII Johnnie hardly spoke to Shula all morning. At breakfast she was sat with the boss and four other staff members. She left the table to become busy being efficient and organising. He watched her. It had been a funny old time. He'd learned a lot about that lonely woman with a fear of men. You wouldn't have thought butter would have melted in that mouth. She seemed full of self-confidence as she passed round papers to the sales staff and Johnnie wondered if, underneath that veneer of efficiency she was actually feeling randy. She said she often was. She handed him a cup of coffee at the break. "Thick and strong for you, John? Is that how you like it?" she whispered with a cheeky grin. "No, Shula! Thick and strong is more like your own preference. I'll have mine with melted honey!" he gave her a meaningful look and they laughed together. Shula The conference finished at lunchtime. Johnnie didn't bother to stay on for lunch, preferring to get home. When he got into work on Monday morning he was told that poor Shula had crashed her car into a tree on a nasty bend on the way back on Friday afternoon and almost killed herself. Her face was smashed and she suffered severe internal injuries. The cosmetic surgeons could do little other than patch her face up. She was a long time coming to terms with her misfortune - if she ever did.