8 comments/ 29718 views/ 3 favorites Early Release By: Egmont Grigor ONE The heavy wooden side gate of Efflington Gully Prison slammed shut, leaving pasty-faced man of about thirty dressed in a blue suit, light blue shirt, no tie and brown boat shoes. He carried a small suitcase. Short-ass Maud Evans, all of five feet, called in a stentorian voice, "Bass Togood?" A little disoriented, Bass looked around to see if she was addressing someone else. There was no-one else about. "Yep." "I beg your pardon?" "YEP!" "There's no need to shout." "Likewise. "Oh dear, a rebel. You were to go to the Selfridge family but I'm afraid anyone with aggression is not suitable for them. I'll switch you to Miss Cushla Masters; David Persons who's due out at 3:00 can go to the Selfridges. "Please get into the car." Bass did not move. "What's the matter, are you hard of hearing?" "I don't trust women drivers – I'll walk." "Oh, very well, here are the keys. Drive in an orderly manner. Go around this curve to the right, take a sharp turn left and continued on for about a mile. That is all." Bass got behind the wheel. "What are you doing?" "Pushing the seat back." "Now what are you doing?" "Lowering the seat." "Now what are you doing?" "Starting the motor." "Oh. Sorry." "Eeeeeek," screamed Mrs Evans, as her Japanese hatchback accelerated savagely forward, went around the unsealed curve in a slide and she was squeezed into the right-hand side of her seatbelt as Bass eased the Honda into a sharp left and floored the accelerator to give Mrs Evans the fastest car ride of her life. He eased back under 100 miles an hour, scratched behind his left ear with his right hand, almost giving Mrs Even a seizure then said, "I'd like a beer." "The p-p-pub is a quarter m-m-mile down on the left," she said. "Right, better slow down – don't want to over-shoot, do we," said Bass, stomping on the brakes. "Nice car; everything seems to work as well as it should," he offered. "I-I-I think I'll have a double scotch when we get to the p-p-pub," said the former Australian Army nurse. Half of Mrs Evan's whisky disappeared in the first gulp, returning color to her face. "What did you miss most in prison, Bass?" "Sex." Mrs Evans' face was now nicely colored. "I understood the prisoners attended to that themselves." "The first fruitcake that laid a hand on me, I pushed his front teeth to the back of his throat and I wasn't touched-up again." "The report said you were aggressive." "Better that than having my asshole rebored to a new width." "C-c-could we c-c-change the subject, Bass?" "Okay, what's this Masters Shelia like?" Cushla Masters is president of our Wainsford Prisoner Rehabilitation League and I would advise you to proceed carefully as she runs a martial arts academy and is chief instructor. "She sounds interesting." "She's not, she's a sad, heart-broken woman." "What, her parents died recently," laughed Bass, scratching his butt. "Actually yes, shot by her fiancée before she killed him, breaking his neck." "Sounds like my kind of girl." "I'd be very careful if I were you, Mr Togood. If you'll excuse me I'll go over to the corner and phone her now and read out the report we have on you. It could be she'll refuse to accept you. Here's more money, enough for two more beers." Bass bought another beer then put two bucks in a slot machine and selected only the Jackpot. The alarm went and the publican came running out of his office carrying a baseball bat. "Was it a legitimate strike, Scotty?" he asked the idle barman. "Yeah, saw him put two bucks in and select only one button." "Yes, that is correct, Mr Carrington – I can collaborate that statement," said the Court registrar, having a late counter lunch. "Better come with me, son and get your check." "Cash." "Check – don't trust banks." "What, you expect that I'm keeping $800 bucks on these premises." "Yes." "Well I don't." "I'm willing to bet my eight hundred bucks that you're got at least ten thousand bucks in that safe of yours – my $800 to your $10,000 says I'm right.' "Oh, all right, but keep your voice down, I don't want the riff-raff knowing I keep a safe full of money." "He is the riff-raff Alfie; what's he done?" "Just won $810.15 in the Jackpot." "What, legitimately?" "So it seems." "He'll want it in cash." "We've already established that, Maud, so unless you can produce grounds for me not having to pay out this money, I shall go off and get it for him." "You go get the money, Alfie. It's time he had some luck." TWO "Cushla – this is Mr Bass Togood, Bass this is Miss Masters. She has gracefully accepted the task of helping to rehabilitate you into society over the next three weeks." Gosh, he needs fattening up and putting out into the sun to tan, thought Cushla. He's a much better type than I'd expected. The report Maud had read to her stated: drunken driving three months, assaulting the judge seven months, contempt of Court three months – fourteen months concurrently; served eight months and released on good behavior bond. A complex character, post-release rehabilitation program recommended for a suggested period of three weeks. Cushla thought a good bath, haircut and finger nails clean and he would be fine to have sitting at her dining table. Bass knew she was sizing him up and yet didn't look dismayed, which was a good sign. She was in her early thirties, almost as tall as he was -six-two. Shucks, her parents must have been feeding her something rich. She was lean, nothing outstanding in the tit department, boyish hips but it was of little interest as he was unlikely to get himself parked in there. Oh goodness, look at those legs below her short shorts – they were top babe material. Staring at the legs Bass looked up to find Miss Masters staring at him, coldly. "Are you into martial arts, Mr Togood." "No, not really." Cushla looked about to challenge that answer when Mrs Evans said she'd better be off. "Goodbye, Bass. I guess I'll see you at the community social on Saturday, if not before. Good luck and please be obedient to Miss Masters. She'd not had a great year. Bass stepped forward and kissed Mrs Evans on the cheek and thanked her. She blushed and said that she knew he was a nice man "underneath it all." They were standing to the side of the small weatherboard house and Bass could see a little hut behind it. Cushla looked at the hut, looked at him and obviously made a decision. "Come on, you're sleeping in the house – but first we have to delouse you. It's standard procedure. I'll join you in the bathroom in a couple of minutes, strip but keep your underpants on." Bass thought this was more like going into prison rather than coming out of it, though the guards had simply hosed the three-person intake down with a high pressure hose, grinning fiendishly as the hosed prisoners howled with pain. Cushla arrived in a one-piece peach colored bathing suit that almost made it appear she was totally nude. Bass's cock raced to half-mast, fortunately not protruding out of his underpants; he fought to keep it undercover, unable to hide his embarrassment. "It's all right Bass; we realize this happens when you've been out of circulation for months or even years. We pretend not to notice." Bass gave Cushla a look of puppy gratitude; he really appreciated the humane touch in the use of the word pretend. She's a nice lady, he thought. Cushla shampooed his hair, working her fingers in deeply; his head was bent forward, almost touching her breasts and both he and Cushla worked to avoid unnecessary contact. The shampoo smelt as diabolical as the soap. "I'll go now and you can finish off, please had me your underpants for washing; I'll get your suit dry-cleaned and I will fumigate your shoes. May I take clothes out of your suitcase? "Yes," croaked Bass, removing his underpants and expecting another humiliation, but she stood with her eyes well averted, holding out a hand to receive them. He then noticed a freshly laundered white polo shirt and pair of white shorts and white briefs on the stool, waiting for him. "We're not supposed to serve new release people alcohol." Bass noticed the use of the words 'no supposed' so said he'd like a beer. Cushla, still in her swimsuit returned carrying two screw-top bottles of lager. Bass flicked a look and concluded that the breasts were larger than he'd first thought and he could see no stray hairs below, which meant that she shaved to a bikini line or was completely smooth. He licked his lips at the thought of a completely smooth vulva. Cushla whipped off the cap of the bottle with ease, a reminder to Bass that there was real power in those hands and arms. Most women in his past would have asked him to unscrew the caps for them even if knowing they could do it themselves. "Cheers," she said. "Cheers." "Bass, is that short for Bassem, though I very much doubt that?" "No, my real name is Basil, but as a wee tyke someone called me Bass. Apparently I hooked into it and the family hearing me say the name confidentially followed my lead and started using it, and it stuck." "What a sweet story. You know Bass, part of my role is to induct you back into the community slowly through meeting people and doing community things. "I've got a class of young girls a 5:00. I'd like you to come down and sit with the mothers. They won't know anything about you. Do you think you can handle it? Grab a towel and then place it over your lap if you get a boner. There will only be six of them but two of them are rather sexy." "I won't let you down, Cushla." There, he'd said her name. He felt foolish calling her Miss Masters. She indicated no concern. They finished their beer and she told Bass to settle into his room, to change anything around as he wished. Fifteen minutes later she was standing at the door, dressed in a white gown, probably with a sports bra underneath. She was barefoot. "My parents were killed with that rifle almost a year ago, Bass." "Were they?" he replied discretely. "That was tragic – I'm sorry. The gun needs cleaning, Cushla but I'll reassemble it and not touch it again if that's you wish." "I don't know what my wish is, Bass. It was such a shattering experience." "Then let my clean it, Cushla. Most other people would have had the gun destroyed. But I believe you did a reasonable thing in retaining it, as the gun was not at fault. And life goes on." "Wise words, Bass, and thank you. Leave that now, we must go. Will you drive?" "Yes, and thank you. I have a thing about being driven by women." They walked into the old doorless barn, and Bass's eyes lit up – the vehicle was a near new yellow Falcon top-of-the-line utility. His mouth watered. "Take care, it's a powerful brute." "Thanks, but I know cars." He drove slowly out to the metal road and was told to turn right. The first two miles were twisty, with surface rutted on the corners. "Hold on," he said as they came out of the second bend quite fast. Cushla didn't say a word. Bass now felt he had the feel of the vehicle on this condition of road surface, so pushed the vehicle, using a good mix of power from the 4-litre turbo-charged motor and manual six-speed transmission. It was an exhilarating, no-scares run and they emerged from the hilly section with Cushla flushed with excitement. "That was fabulous – I think I've got the skills but don't have the guts to push it quite that fast." "Nice wheels," Bass said nonchalantly. Cushla unlocked her rooms and there were a few minutes to wait before her students arrived. "Come on, help me warm up," she said. "I won't hurt you or throw you. Just try to block what I do." They played around and then Cushla forgot what she'd said and tried a hip throw; found herself on her butt. "You said you weren't into martial arts." "Actually I said not really, then we were diverted when I was about to tell you I was an assistant Army instructor in unarmed combat, mostly at the Wombat Patch Training Facility." He helped Cushla to her feet. She tried a few more half-hearted moves which Bass blocked then she dropped him with a leg trip and immediately pulled out before Bass could attempt to counter. Meanwhile mothers with twelve to fourteen year olds girls had arrived and were watching. "Hi folk this is a friend Bass who'd like to sit in on this session; is that all right with you?" "Yes, he can sit up here with us," said a woman in overalls, a man's shirt and heavy boots. "Hi, I'm Paula." Sexy? Two younger women, laughing, came in with two children. They were sexy, definitely and both were eyeing him while talking to Cushla. When driving home Bass asked Cushla if she was happy for him to clean and oil the rifle. "Yes, quite, and I'll give you a box of ammunition." She appeared relaxed about that, but her voice was tight. "No, it's fine. Guns just need some loving care now and again; I have no interest in using it." For a brief moment Bass thought Cushla was going to reach over and take his arm affectionately. The squawk of rosella parrots in the treetops woke Bass at dawn and he stretched. At the edge of his drowsiness he became aware that something was not quite right and his eyes focused almost in alarm. Leaning in the doorway was Cushla, dressed in a tank top and shorts so small that it looked if half of them were missing. Bass realized his dick was at attention. "This is normal for many men at dawn," he said, touching the tip of it. "I know. I'm here to invite you to accompany me on a run," she said, her voice sounding perfectly normal. "Well, I don't know if I can manage – we had a crude gym which I used daily but it was pathetic trying to do circuits around the exercise yards with clowns sticking out a foot trying to trip you." "I'll be gentle with you." At that Bass's dick shot to full attention and gave a couple of dry jolts. In the half-light he watched the tip of her tongue come out between her teeth and her face appeared to darken, though he couldn't be sure of that. "Come on," she choked. "I'll pour you a glass of juice." "You naughty little bastard," chided Bass, giving the head of his disgraced dick a glancing blow with his palm. The dick plummeted into soft hanging mode. Bass lasted less than a mile before he was utterly stoked, chest heaving. "You go on." "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Okay, but watch out for snakes. They're bad in this locality." "Jesus!" She smiled, teeth flashing, her tanned skin silvered with perspiration as the arrival of the sun over the horizon had already lifted the temperature. "Stay sitting here on the roadside on you'll be fine; they'll be shyer of you than you are of them. "Shy? I'm bloody terrified of snakes." "Most women always have been," she giggled, and was gone. Only when she was some distance away did Bass realize that had been a smutty little joke. The next four days Bass jogged a quarter mile along the road, turned and tried to run back to the house, which was some 300 yards beyond the town boundary. He made this into a routine, doing it every three hours or so. By the fourth day he was running the distance in both directions and coming home very fast. She didn't comment, but watched him, he thought with approval. On the third morning Bass made a request – could Cushla fetch eight fence posts that needed replacing in the perimeter fence around her home. "Are you sure you want to do this, in this heat?" "Yes." She went inside and returned to the doorway and tossed the keys into his lap; he was sitting in the shade. "Go around the back of Hayman Hardware and someone will recognize the yellow ute and help you load up, but you pick what you want; they'll try to load the second quality posts. I'll phone the order through now." Bass had learned to dig in hot conditions during Army days, and actually quite liked the sweaty hard yakka providing his head was cool. When he returned with the posts Cushla had a shovel, crowbar, wide canvas hat and water in an insulated container waiting for him. The crowbar, of course, was to break open the dirt, which was sun baked to a concrete-like consistency; she knew not to give chilled water to a man who'd be sweating copiously so it was tepid water, straight from the tap. "You are prohibited from working on hard yakka beyond 11:00 – and that's an order." "Yes ma'am." She came out with more water and a big, freshly basked muffin at 10:00 and a big colored towel. As Bass drank the water she began drying off his chest, taking her time about it. Cushla then sat him on a tree stump and went around and toweled off his back, dropped the towel and began gently massaging his neck muscles. "I do this to the four men in my A-team," she explained. "Bodies can be fine-tuned, just like a car, and they also respond to maintenance." Then Bass stupidly spoiled the moment. "Aren't you worried that the neighbors will be talking, me with just you in this house." "But we don't have any near neighbors," she giggled. "Yes, but people who know you or know of you drive past and people talk, as well you know." Cushla stepped back and stalked off angrily. Turning as she entered the house she cried, "If they think like that they can go and get fucked." The door slammed and Bass hung his head thinking you stupid bugger. He expected to be sleeping in the shed that night. At eleven Bass went inside and showered where he found another change of clothes waiting for him – cheap stuff but they more or less fitted. He returned to the kitchen determined not to mention his goof. Cushla was waiting to pour plunger coffee. "I want to tell you something, Bass." For the next twenty minutes she talked non-stop, telling here how Trevor came into her life when she lived down in Victoria and how he killed her parents in a fit of rage and she killed him as he turned the gun on her after realizing what he'd done. The Court found she acted reasonably in self-defense under extremely provocation. "I relocated to this property, Bass, and at first it was fine. And then someone found out about my past and I began being treated as an object of curiosity and found I had the nickname of the Karate Killer. "Then one Friday night four young men called on me, I was out at the back, dressed only in a shirt and my panties, drinking wine. My only thought was this was to be my finale – a gang rape and then being beaten to death. "The youngest of them, a blond fella (fellow) they called Blue, stepped forward and blurted out, 'Miss Masters – would you train us in karate, we know you could get free use of the abandoned wool store at the old railways yards because we've checked it out with the rail authorities in Sydney'. "Blue Barrett eventually got his black belt grading and later came home with a big cup from the national competitions. From that day focus on my past just filtered away. These days I'm called 'The Shelia who made Blue Barrett famous'. Bass kept his eye on his coffee mug, and said: "Thank you for telling me that. Life sucks, sometimes, doesn't it." Cushla's chair scrapped back and she hurried from the room. He smiled faintly, pleased with himself, believing he'd said exactly the right words. She'd probably be on her bed, sobbing, and thinking that life sucks which was the right way to view it. Almost an hour later she emerged, rubbing her eyes. "Sorry, I fell asleep. Let's go into town and get you kitted up for tomorrow night." "Good, I was wondering about that. I'll buy you a slap up lunch." "You be careful with your money, they give you so little on release." Bass told her about winning $800 and she was excited. Early Release He suddenly had a question: "Just a moment, if you knew they don't hand you out a fortune, who was going to pay for my gear?" Cushla colored. Bass turned away so she couldn't see his eyes. Bass's only extravagance was to buy leather-sole shoes for the dancing. He chose a short-sleeved white shirt with rear pleats falling from the yoke, a pair of blue and white striped underpants and a pair of black trousers, with Cushla insisting he buy one size smaller than he'd chosen after test-fitting. They began walking Main Street but found the town's three restaurants closed which was something Cushla had overlooked. "People here work in the day, play at night and weekends," she said. "We get virtually no tourists through here and Australian travelers drive on to eat at a truck stop – the nearest one is 23 miles from here – do you want to go there?" "No, the pub." "It's lunchtime, it may be a bit rough." "So?" They went in and the crowd around the bar parted and Cushla was greeted affectionately, often by name. Bass ordered a couple of lagers and someone nearby called, "Are you a pansy?" The bar fell silent. Bass turned and saw the crowed had parted, leaving a bearded man standing alone, holding a glass of very dark beer. "Yes mate, should we go upstairs?" The big fellow looked terrified, Cushla called "Of course he's not" and everyone laughed. The landlord said "Your lagers are on the house, Cushla." The guys crowded round. Cushla said Bass had been a training specialist in the army years ago and he was questioned extensively about unarmed combat. Later a number of the men accompanied Cushla and Bass into the dinning room where the dish of the day was ox tongue and the dessert bread and butter pudding. A cheer swept through the dinning room when a young embarrassed waitress brought a bottle of wine to Cushla's table. She struggled to uncork it and a daring young man leaped up, circled her with his arms and assisted her with the job. Her champion kissed her, and she kissed him right back, unleashing another cheer through the room. "Shouldn't these guys be at work?" "It's Friday, and guys tend to have a long lunch hour on Fridays – go into shops and offices and other businesses and you'll see practically only women and young lads at work." "Gee, that's not fair." "Like me to stand up and tell this mob that you think they should be back at work? "What's wrong, Bass. You've gone very white!" Cushla and Bass arrived back home and 3:00 and she immediately pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge and took it and two glasses outside. "I enjoy the occasional break-out," she said, pouring Bass a glass of a blended red. After dinner they both looked pie-eyed. "Sleep well, Bass," Cushla said, kissing him gently on the lips. "I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night." Bass was almost asleep when he realized sleeping in the shed was obviously off the agenda. Three The next evening Bass did the dinner dishes and Cushla disappeared for almost one and a half hours. He got ready in fifteen minutes, including a long shower. He was watching a TV replay of the top Ruby League game from the previous evening when Cushla swept into the room; his jaw dropped. Her streaky blonde hair was piled on top of her head and she'd got a matching bit from somewhere that dropped like a pony tail. She certainly had more hair than at dinner time. Instead of lipstick she had some really shiny glossy stuff and her tan had been toned down and she had glitter on her cheeks. Then his eyes widened. She had on a tight blue-green dress of very thin material with lots of gatherings and a gold tie cord around the waist - she was bra-less. And that was not a guess as Bass could see the outline of them through the semi-transparent dress. Looking down a bit he could see the outline of bikini panties. Holy shit! He started counting backwards from 100 to get his mind off bare tits and whatever to keep his dick calm. "You look gorgeous," he said, and she bowed, giving him an eyeful of bulging flesh. He looked back up and found himself under grave scrutiny. A smile broke out and Cushla said, "That was a lovely compliment. Thank you. I've tried so hard for you." Bass said come on, and rushed the door, his mind reeling. Exactly what had she meant by that – she only meant to look good as his partner to the dance, or did she? No wonder they had this program for prisoner release rehabilitation – it was fucking necessary! "Wait for me!" called Cushla, as Bass was already through the garden gate and moving off to the old barn. She caught up with him, putting an arm through his and began walking with difficulty over the terrain which was becoming increasingly rougher. "Damn, I should have worn regular shoes and carried these good ones." Bass turned and lifted Cushla into his arms. "Oooh, this is nice," she said, kissing him lightly below the ear. At that, Bass was sure she'd be feeling her cock stiffening against her butt. He cringed. He dropped her gently to her feet inside the barn and strode forward and opened the passenger door for her. He then jumped in and waited for her to hand him the keys. "What are we waiting for?" "I need the keys." "You have them." "No I don't" She giggled, saying they must be hanging up on the wall in the kitchen above the telephone. They danced a little awkwardly, but ignored that, talking about things and the people around them; just good solid small conversation. Bass loved the feeling of her body against his, but did not comment about that. He often caught her looking at him. Her expression was always soft at such moments. Excited expectations began building. Unfortunately he was unable to complete a dance with her, as men were lining up to dance with Cushla. On one of these occasions he was seized by powerful hands – it was the woman in boots from the academy he'd sat with and her friends while their daughters were having a lesson. Now what was her name? "Hi, I'm Paula, you'll remember me from the academy." They'd only gone a few steps when the dance finished. "You move well, can you really dance?" "A little." "The Cha Cha?" "Yes." "Hoi, Stan. The Cha Cha!" she called in a very strong voice. "You have a good voice." "I get it from my mum, you know her – she's Maud Evans, and she's talking to Cushla." Good heavens, this giant of a woman Maud's daughter? Bass looked and saw Maud talking earnestly to Cushla, moving her hands a lot, with Cushla listening intently. Must be talking recipes. The Cha Cha music started and most of the dancers left the floor. Then Paula said, "Let's go," and really began turning it on. She was brilliant. "You're great." "Mum's a dancing teacher." The remaining dancers left the floor and Bass totally concentrated on doing his best, helped by Paula giving him instructions. People were clapping to the rhythm and Bass felt elated – he felt removed from his past. The dance finished and people were cheering. He and Paula finished with him down on one knee and Paula draped over it, arm outstretched. She swung up on to his knee, and facing him, asked casually, "Want to come outside – that dance arouses me. Her hand grasped Bass between his legs. Bass felt violated; he was saving himself for Cushla. For God's sake, Paula was married with at least two children and her husband was over there at the bar. "Or is this for Cushla?" "I'm one of your mother's ex-prisoner placements, Paula." "I know, and that why I want you," she said as they got to their feet, the band beginning a fox-trot. "I think of being the one getting that first shot away – I fancy it would be rather like having a born-again virgin deep up my spout." "Sorry, Paula." "It's okay," she said, looking at Cushla. "Who can blame you? Perhaps some other time?" "Perhaps." "You two, you looked so wonderful together out there; you looked made for each other," said Cushla, greeting them. "How I wish," smiled Paula, staring at Bass and then sighing, "I guess I better go and say hullo to my husband." "She's got the hots for you," Cushla giggled. "Are you aware she's Maud's elder daughter?" "Yes." "Well, arrange something – you can take the ute." "I don't want anyone else, Cushla." Cushla didn't turn away: she allowed Bass to see her blush and to see her eyes that had now turned from mid blue to almost navy. He lips opened and the whisper came: "Take me tonight." Bass stepped forward and hugged her, saying, "Shall we dance." Remarkably Cushla began dancing much better, and the longer they went on the better she appeared to become. It was as if Maud had taken her aside and tutored her, but they hadn't been time. When they returned to the table with six other, all strangers to Bass but they were friendly, he and Cushla sat together and held hands. "What happened? You danced very well then." "Maud had been watching me earlier and talked to me about it when you were doing that Latin American thing with Paula. Maud urged me to relax, saying I appeared to be dancing at the music, rather than with it – that I should think of the music flowing across me like water and try to keep my body in synch. She also said I should go belly to belly with you and let you make all the moves – she was talking about dancing, of course," Cushla giggled. Four They stood in the kitchen, no longer hand in hand. Bass was sweating a little and not only because of the summer heat. "What now?" "Come into the bedroom with me." "Don't you want to slip into bed first?" "No, I want you to undress me and to love me because we do it." "I might get a hard on while undressing you." "I'd be very disappointed if it didn't." "Is this against the rules of the rehabilitation league?" "Yes, but I gave Maud my resignation verbally tonight just before we left the hall, and will write it out in the morning." "You'll do that for me?" "Yes, and also very much for me. I want this to happen, Bass." In the bedroom Bass fiddled around trying to undo Cushla's necklace while kissing her lips and face. She let him struggle with the clasp; there was no hurry. Her dress dropped to the floor and she stepped out of it, now in only in her panties, thigh high lace-topped stockings and high heel shoes. May I, he said with his eyes and expression. Cushla nodded and Bass dropped his mouth on to her felt breast. She put out her hand and drew him closer, the hand then moving up to bury itself into his brown curly hair. Their emotions were a little different, Bass's stirring as though he was on a hunting trip, and Cushla's making her feel all warm and fuzzy as if she were at peace with herself at last. Looking down at the breast muzzler, Cushla was happy that he was enjoying himself so much over so little. Bass's eye she could see was closed and she hadn't realized he had such long, fabulous eye lashes; who'd need false extensions with eyelashes like those! She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, then worked her hands in to begin unbuttoning Bass's shirt, he moving his right side out of the way. It had been a long time since Cushla had a penis in her hands and then into her, but she couldn't get at his belt from this position as his stomach was bent forward, unwittingly blocking access to his belt. She settled back, content to continuing giving the occasional kiss to his head as her desires built up. Finally she could wait no longer, and placing both hands on Bass's head began applying pressure. As his head came off her breast she felt his wet tongue slowly leave a snail-like trail down her chest and across her belly and as it went over the front of her bikini panties she fought a strong urge to scream. "Lick me! It was meant to be a sexy little whisper but emerged as a hoarse shout, her voice now thick with emotion. She jerked her panties down and felt the tongue part her hair to reach the labia; Cushla was regretting that she'd discarded the practice of shaving completely and resolved to resume in the morning. The tongue pushed forward and Cushla shuddered into a surprisingly early orgasm, though perhaps not surprising. Her skin was on fire. Eagerly Cushla widened her stance and grasping two handfuls of his hair pulled him against her, wanting that tongue in deeply. She threw her head back and groaned, knowing she was close as she'd ever be to her concept of a primeval woman in similar circumstances. With that moment ending, Cushla grinned, wondering was the original pussy-licking about in those times or did he not emerge until many generations later. Bass's tongue began rolling over her clit, a finger dug deep down into the opposite end of her vagina and blood roared to her face, breasts and midriff and she slumped forward ejaculating. She was dimly aware that gushing like this had occurred once or twice in the distant past, but so what – this was now! She groaned and groaned softly, her arms held out rigidly against Bass for support and gave a series of short pelvic thrusts against his lapping tongue to show him that she cared and was helping him to milk her fluids. Bass's head pulled back. He was red-faced and smiling, his chin dripping fluid. "Boy, aren't you something," he grinned. An automatic response would have been to sweetly say something like, "Why thank you, kind sir," but instead she heard herself whine, "Let me at it, Bass – p-l-e-a-s-e." He chuckled, stood back slightly to drop his trousers and underpants. Cushla had slipped to her knees and as soon as his cock flipped into view she'd slid her mouth over and down it and was sucking as hard as she could go. The gentle introduction to it – licking the tip, holding it up to admire it, fingering his testicles and oohing that had filled him mind in bed over several nights had suddenly gone. She'd gone from cold-start to a full-on and sloppy blow job in half a second flat! Bass, damn him, just stood there enjoying the moment: why weren't his hands on her breasts? That though, really not critical, caused Cushla to lift her tempo, then when two of his fingers circled the inside part of her ears she tried to do the impossible – scream with a fat dick down her throat. The scream sounded like a deep-seated long grunt and she picked up the speed and raced on until she felt she was becoming fatigued. What was the use of all her running and gym work if she couldn't perform an all-night blowjob? Frustrated, Cushla slowed right down to conserve energy and slowly pulled her mouth back, gently scraping her teeth along the length until it hit the beginning of the helmet-like tip. Just as she was beginning to wonder what to do next the penis jerked and a shot of cum entered her mouth. She jerked back almost in fright, because there had been no sign of it coming. Splat, spat: spurts of cum were now hitting her face and then he pulled back and shots were landing on her tits and he was going "Yippee" as if he were a cowboy riding a bucking horse. It was a moment that Cushla thought she'd never forget; never. Five After their passion subsided to a more sustainable level a couple of days later, Cushla and Bass got themselves into a lovely working/socializing relationship during the remaining days of their three weeks together. They still more or less went at it like eighteen year olds, though, as both had had months of deprivation. On the morning after their first night of bonding, Bass told Cushla about his fall from grace. He'd been working as a dispatch manager for a courier company and at a Friday night farewell for a manager over-imbibed and was apprehended at a road block testing for drivers over the alcohol limit. Bass took objections to the smart-ass comments of the burly sergeant as he was being processed for being over the alcohol limit, so received a whack over his head and woke up in police cells. The judge found him guilty and remanded Bass on bail for sentencing. Bass grinned wryly and told how he saw the judge on the street a couple of days later and attempted to talk to him but the judge told him to go away. He said he persisted, wanting to tell the judge about police brutality but the judge attempted to brush Bass's hand away, so Bass dug his fingers in and the judge let him have his say. As Bass walked away two carloads of police special force personnel arrived, surrounded Bass and took him away, handcuffed. At the hearing on that charge of assault, Bass called out that the Judge, a witness against him, was exaggerating about the force used, and was told to apologize but refused, so was dinged for contempt of Court. That same Judge that dinged him for contempt took over the sentencing for drunk driving and resisting arrest, so in the end he faced fourteen months in jail. "But that's despicable, unjust – it's horrendous. You've got to expose this injustice." "I tried – sent my story to three newspapers while in prison, and received back only one reply, which told me to finish my sentence and then behave myself. Apparently none of them bothered to question me to ascertain basic facts." At the end of three weeks, Bass was packed ready to go. "Don't go," cried Cushla, tears falling. "I've got to find a new life, darling. Apart from you, there's nothing for me here. Unemployment in the town is almost 20% for males." "You'll find something, you're a good man." "So are most of other unemployed blokes, Cushla. Do I walk or will you drive me to the bus station?" Cushla handed him the keys. "Here, it's yours. I've already transferred the vehicle to you – the documents are on the front seat; all you need to do is sign them and post them off." "I can't take this, I'm not worth it." "Oh, you don't know just how much you are worth to me, Bass. It is you who's given me my life back. Take it, please. Don't upset me." At the ute they kissed for a very long time, and then Cushla stepped back and told him to go, still not weeping. "I'm not going to look back, I can't," he said, eyes brimming. She just nodded, and he drove off, very slowly. Cushla watched until he disappeared and then went off inside to mope. SIX A yellow ute drew up outside the house and Bass went inside but Cushla was not there. He noticed the table set for two, and two wine glasses were on the table. There was a noise behind him, he turned and saw Cushla with a pathetic bunch of wild flowers, the only flowers she had available in this heat. "Ready for lunch?" was he greeting. "Hullo," he said, almost shyly. "You knew that I would come back?" "Oh yes, the only surprise is that it took you so long." "I sat thinking for a bit. I reckon if we relocate in..." "Bass, would you like to go farming with me?" "When?" "As soon as you wish to start." "That's a very kind offer, but do you have a farm?" "Yes, we're on it. This is the nor-western boundary and this is a married stockman's house in the days when everything was done on horse-back." "You're no kidding, are you?" "Nope, when I sold up my parent's holdings in Victoria I bought this place, all 54,372 hectares of it." "Cripes, 50,000 hectares – that's practically as large as some European countries." "I don't really think so, darling, but it's small compared with some of the stations in the far north." "Why do you want to go farming rather than stay in your present position, which seems pretty comfortable?" "Isn't it obvious?" "Well, yes, you want me to stay and do things together with you." "Yes, exactly. And within time for you to take over management of the farm, with me doing the bookwork and learning to fly so I can buy my own aircraft. "The current manager is pretty good, but I want you to work alongside him for wages and learn everything you can as he'll be moving on within the next couple of years – the young ones always do, wanting to step up in size of property." Early Release The big smile showed Bass was really warming to the idea. "Well, I'm keen enough to give farming a go. In my teens I worked as a jackaroo for almost two years and I loved it. Yes, I definitely will commit – it's the opportunity foI need as nothing else lies ahead of me from what I can see. But don't you think you are taking a big risk?" "No, not at all. You got a bum deal and ended up in prison but I recognize character in you. The very fact that you came back to me is proof of that. "I know this sounds soppy, Bass, but we'll be all right as we both have guts and determination and we have each other." "Well, there we are. Cheers and drink up, I reckon I'll make a good farmer, how can I thank you." "You can thank me in bed after lunch." While cleaning up after lunch and hanging out the washing for Cushla, Bass heard a shriek from the bedroom. Smiling, he wandered off to the pump house to check the water filters and then went back to the house to get his reward. Cushla was stretched out on the bed. The present he'd left on the pillow for her had been opened. Her left hand lay on her shaven vulva, the fourth finger very noticeable with a new gold band around it. The ring had cost Bass seventeen hundred dollars, but Mr Rainer the jeweler accepted the $700 deposit and gave Bass three months before he needed to pay the balance when told who the ring was for. Cushla was asleep, wearing a happy smile, so Bass sat on the bedroom chair and waited patiently. He was in no hurry. THE END