Jolly Rogering

Jolly Rogering

© Bad Hobbit 2024

When I agreed to go on the kids' show 'Jolly Roger', I had no idea what would happen afterwards. And as I unloaded for the third time that evening, this time into Roni's mouth, I realised that children's TV was a whole different world.

See, me and Jeff got invited to Pebble Mill to demo our new engine. This was back in 1967, and at Dudley, we'd just taken delivery of the new Simon Snorkel equipment. It was a bit of a novelty back then; usually, fire engines had ladders, but this one had a cradle on a long jib - what we'd call a 'cherry picker' these days - with a nozzle that could pour water or foam from a height onto a blaze. Corgi cars had made a model of it and it was selling like hotcakes to the kids.

So the people at Jolly Roger thought it'd be fun to give their audience a real-life demonstration of this wonderful new fire engine, and they invited us to take it around to Pebble Mill. We suggested going instead to a derelict building site to show off the machine; it wouldn't do to pour a powerful jet of water or fire-retardant foam all over the studios, now would it?

See, Jeff and me were the first to get trained on it, and that was quite impressive in itself because Jeff was the first black fireman to be employed at Dudley. On the day, we did the demo, me in the cradle and Jeff controlling it from below, while they filmed it. Then we had an interview with Veronica Somerfield, the presenter. We'd seen her on telly of course - my big sister Jan had three kids who watched the programme regularly, so I was often in front of it as I babysat of an evening. But face to face, with a TV camera pointed at us, we were a bit nervous.

"So David, how is it to control a powerful machine like this?"

"Oh, it's much better than the old turntable ladders. Like, we can rescue people from higher up in the cradle. It's much safer than hanging on to a ladder if you're trying to get kids and old folk out of a burning building. And, of course, you can direct the water or foam on the blaze from above, which gives us a huge advantage. We don't need to roll out hoses and pack them up afterwards, because the water is pumped up the pipe on the jib." When I saw the programme later, I thought I came over as a bit of a Brummie nerd. But Veronica was very nice.

"Sounds like a real advance," she said in her posh accent. When she turned to Jeff, I was relieved that I wasn't likely to make even more of a prat of myself on kids' TV.

"So Jeffrey, is it a big responsibility to control where David, here, goes when he's high up above you?"

Jeff answered in his weird mixture of Brummie and Jamaican, and then she asked him a few general, technical questions - height of the cradle, rate of flow, top speed of the engine - and I was able to look at her up close. She was a good foot shorter than me - I'm around six foot six - and with her short, dark-brown hair and slim body, she looked almost boyish. I remember thinking she looked prettier than on TV, where she came across as a bit 'mumsy'.

Then she thanked us both, the cameras stopped rolling and it was time to pack up. The crew began winding up cables and Jeff went to retract the hydraulic stabilisers so we could drive back to the station.

"David, are you and Jeffrey on duty this evening?" It was an odd question to ask, but she said it with a nice half-smile.

"Er, no, Miss Somerfield. Our shift's over at six." I glanced at my watch. It was around five-thirty. We needed to be getting back. "We just have to take the vehicle back to the station."

"Please call me Roni, David. And are you married? Either of you?"

Another odd question.

"Er, no. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm staying on my own in a local hotel this evening, and I wondered whether you'd like to join me for dinner. It would be nice to have some lively and different company, and it's on expenses, so it would be my treat. Obviously, if you were married you'd want to go home to your wives."

"I see. Well, no, we're both single. But don't you have - I dunno - a lot of media types with you?"

"No, this crew are local, based at Pebble Mill, so they'll all be going home afterwards. I'll be on my own and I'll be heading back to London in the morning. I'm sure the two of you could help enliven my evening. Shall I book for around seven thirty?"

"We'll need to go home and change first. We've only got our dress uniforms at the station." We still had on our waterproof overalls.

"Well, you can do that if you want, but I'm sure you'd look very presentable in your uniforms. Shall we say around seven fifteen in the bar? I'm sure you could use a drink."

Jeff and me arrived just after seven and headed for the hotel bar. Veronica wasn't there, so we ordered a couple of pints - and winced at the prices - and then sat at a table in the corner. The barman looked a bit 'old-fashioned' at Jeff - I guess they didn't get too many black customers in those days - but we tried to ignore him.

"I can't believe she invited us," Jeff said. "I mean, she like, on the telly - a star!"

"Well, not a proper star, like Diana Rigg. She's just a presenter. And only on kids' TV."

"Even so, Dave, she de most famous person I ever met. And she not bad looking either." Jeff was born in Birmingham, but his parents came to Britain on the Empire Windrush. His speech was a bit odd - like a tug-of-war between Brummie and Jamaican, and it always made me smile.

I was about to reply when Veronica came into the bar. She was wearing a tight-fitting black dress, just above the knee, with black tights and high heels. The dress was a bit lower cut than I'd have expected of a kids' TV presenter, but I guess, like us, she was off duty. She had on a pearl necklace - more of a collar or choker, I guess - some long pearl earrings and more makeup than I'd noticed when she was on TV. With her nicely shaped short hair, she looked very sophisticated, at least to two Brummie firemen.

And yes, as Jeff had said, she wasn't bad-looking. Not bad at all.

"Good evening gentlemen. I must say, you look very smart in your uniforms. You already seem to have drinks. Would one of you please be so kind as to get me a vodka Martini? Tell them to charge it to room 415."

We asked her all sorts of questions about herself, the show and working in TV. "It looks very glamorous from our side of the box. What's it like to be on the other side, in a studio and trying to get monkeys and dogs to behave?"

"Don't talk about my co-presenters like that!" she said with mock outrage, and we laughed. "Actually, it's nowhere near as fun as it looks. The studios and dressing rooms can be quite squalid, the lights are hot and make things uncomfortable and, yes, we have to deal with misbehaving animals and sometimes misbehaving people."

We soon moved to the dining room. The menu looked a bit sophisticated for us - a Brummie fireman in 1967 didn't even know what lobster thermidor looked like, let alone how it tasted. We both went for steak - Porterhouse - and chips, which was about as up-market as we could imagine.

As we ate, Veronica - 'Roni', as she insisted we call her - was polite and friendly company. She'd ordered Lemon Sole, and she just seemed to pick at it daintily. She asked about our work, our education - not much to say there - and our family life.

"So what about girlfriends?"

"Not a lot of time for dat at the moment," Jeff replied. "We on shifts all de time. Sometimes days, sometimes nights."

"But the job keeps you fit?"

"Oh yeah. There's a gym at de station - weights and stuff. We gotta work out so we ready for anyt'in'."

"I'm glad to hear it. It's good to be in the presence of two such fit young men. So you work hard and keep very fit. What do you get up to in your time off?"

I smiled, a bit ruefully, you could say. "We play a bit of footie, and both of us do odd jobs. See, the money's not great, and helping folk with little maintenance jobs, cleaning windows, repairing gutters, putting back roof tiles - stuff that you need a head for heights for - well, it helps pay the bills."

"Hmm. So all work and no play, eh? Seems like you never get off."

"Well..."

"It sometimes feels like that for me. I'm somewhat unique - a woman working in television. I often have to travel around the country and stay away from home, and the majority of people I meet on my travels are children. There's very little chance for adult conversation. Or activities."

She tilted her head sideways a little and smiled. Jeff and I glanced at each other, He raised his eyebrows.

"So you're always attending to fires," she continued. "I guess you're used to things getting rather hot. And with those big hoses of yours, things must end up getting quite wet. I'm sure you find yourselves in some sticky situations. Am I right?"

"Er, yes..." I replied feebly.

"I suppose you always need to be ready for anything - firm and upright. Is it true that when the alarm goes, you have to slide down a pole?"

"Yes, Roni. We still do that. It's the fastest way to get to the engine when we have a shout," I replied, trying to avoid straying into anything that might be misinterpreted.

But Roni seemed to have other ideas. "It sounds like fun. I've always wanted to slide down a fireman's pole." Again, the tilt of the head and the smile. Jeff and I looked sideways at each other, wondering where this was going. And then she leaned in, like she wanted to share a secret, and we could see down the front of her dress. Her breasts weren't that big, but I noticed a bit of what looked like black lace.

"Gentlemen, let me put you out of your misery. I'm being very naughty, teasing you like this. But you see, I've enjoyed myself immensely and I don't want the evening to end. I feel very fortunate in having two fit young firemen here, in your very fetching uniforms, keeping me company, keeping me - er, safe. I'm actually feeling rather hot and bothered, but I'm sure you can handle the heat. And it's an ambition of mine to try to slide down a fireman's pole, so it would be delightful if either or both of you could help me with that experience. In addition to the heat, I can assure you that I'm already quite wet, and if you'd like to assist me, things could get rather sticky. So if you don't have any other pressing engagements, I have a pleasant bedroom upstairs, and I'd be delighted to accommodate you." And she smiled, in the same way she smiled at the kids on Jolly Roger.

Jeff looked at me, wide-eyed, then back at Roni, who gave him a smile that looked rather naughtier than the ones she shared with the children. "Both of us?"

"Unless you have a problem with that?"

I don't remember much about leaving the restaurant. I had a hard-on that I was trying to shuffle around inside my Y-fronts to make it more comfortable.

"Boys, I'd rather not make this obvious. Would you mind if I went up in the lift first and you came up the stairs? Let's say goodbye here, and then hello again in my room. 415, remember. Knock three times."

Then she said, quite loudly, "Goodnight. It's been delightful." As she reached up to kiss me on the cheek, she whispered "And, hopefully, will become more so, very soon."

We made a show of saying "Goodnight, and thanks for inviting us." Then we headed to the gents in the lobby.

"Do you think she meant it? I mean, she's..." I felt very turned on, but a bit unsure.

"She very tasty. But - well, you ever done it with, like, another bloke in de room?"

"No. You?"

"No. How d'you think dis is gonna work?"

"I think we need to let her decide that. Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Hold on. Let's get some rubbers first."

The toilet had the usual condom machine. Half a Crown bought you a packet of three in them days, and we bought one each. Well, we had no idea how this was going to go.

We took it easy up the stairs, not wanting to get sweaty. It was, after all, four floors, though we were well used to climbing stairs and ladders. We'd showered at the station before changing out of our overalls and into the dress uniforms that we rarely wore, and we felt we needed to be presentable if we were going to - unbelievably - have sex with a famous female TV presenter.

I knocked on the door of 415, and it opened - obviously with Roni standing behind it. Jeff and me went in, the door closed - and there was Roni. Wow!

She'd taken her dress off, and she was wearing matching black lace underwear. You could see her nipples through the bra cups and the dark area of her bush through the front of her tiny hipster panties. (Women in those days didn't shave or wax). And she was wearing seamed stockings with suspenders - the suspenders inside the knickers. By 1967, a lot of girls were switching to tights. Not Roni.

"I hope you like the outfit. I put it on earlier because it helps get me in the mood. Call me old-fashioned, but I can't stand these new tights. When I get wet - and I do quite a lot - they become rather clammy. And I think stockings look so much nicer, don't you?"

"They do on you, Roni. You look amazing."

"Thank you. You can come again. Well, actually, you haven't come once, yet. But we can soon remedy that. Now you're both strapping young men, and you look quite delicious in your uniforms, but this girl would like to know what awaits her. Show me those fireman's poles, please."

Jeff looked at me, open-mouthed. I just shrugged. No girl has ever asked me to show her my todger quite so blatantly. I unfastened my belt, unzipped my trousers, pulled down the front of my pants and, a bit self-consciously, pulled out the old man. Roni's behaviour had got me mostly hard already, and when she cooed 'Oh, nice!' I started to swell to my full size.

We were both big guys. Like I said, I'm six foot six and Jeff is around two inches taller. I've never really looked at another guy's cock before, but Jeff's looked rather bigger than mine. I mean, fully erect, I'm about eight inches. I'm not good at judging sizes, but I reckoned his must've been at least nine, maybe more, and quite a bit thicker - and he wasn't fully hard.

Roni's eyes widened. "Boys, thank you so much. My, you're both so big! Those seem to be power nozzles to match the one on your fire engine! I think I'm in for a treat this evening. And so, I hope, are you."

And with that, she squatted down between Jeff and me, spreading her legs wide so we could see the darker wet patch in her tiny lace panties, took each of our cocks in her hands - and then took the head of mine into her mouth.

Now at the time, I didn't have a steady girlfriend. I was twenty, and a bit shy around girls. I wasn't a virgin; several one-night stands and around three months of dating a girl called Sandra meant I had a bit of experience. But none of them had ever been quite as direct and blatant as Roni. In fact, several of them had refused point blank to suck my cock. Linda had said I was too big for her mouth and Margaret thought the whole idea was revolting. Sandra did a half-hearted job, but would usually stop after a minute or so, saying her jaw ached.

Roni, on the other hand, seemed very happy to slide her lips over the head of my cock and ease it deeper into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around and it felt glorious - the best blowjob I'd ever had until then.

And

in

her other hand was Jeff's cock, which she seemed to be wanking very nicely, getting him fully hard. Until, disappointingly for me, she swapped, taking my cock in hand again while fastening her mouth onto Jeff's. Still, there are worse things than having your dick, covered in her saliva, wanked by a famous - and very sexy looking - TV personality, and I was in no mood to complain.

Finally, she stopped and looked up at us, mischievously. "Well. I like what I've seen so far, but it's time you got those sexy uniforms off so I can appraise the fit bodies underneath. And then - then you can show me what you can do with a lady. And if that fails, what you can do with a very randy slut."

The way she said it, in that posh voice of hers - almost like she was talking to kids - was so arousing.

So Jeff and me, we did a very quick strip. It was hardly Chippendales stuff - we were just trying to get naked as quickly as possible. I've since learned that girls prefer a guy to be a bit cool about how he takes his clothes off, but we were immature 20-year-olds with no idea except a strong desire to get inside a famous TV personality who was behaving very sluttily indeed.

Jeff looked great naked. His skin was this mid-brown colour, rather than the deep bitter-chocolate colour I've seen on some African guys. Me, I was chalky white alongside him, but both of us were fit with good muscles, and although we both had decent-sized cocks, Jeff's was quite a bit larger than I'd realised. They say that black guys are bigger, but I'd assumed that Jeff was just big because the rest of him was. Anyway, Roni didn't seem inclined to complain.

When our clothes were in two neat piles on the floor, she was smiling at us. "Well, you weren't joking about keeping fit. I don't think I've seen such well-formed male bodies in a while. And my, you are both big boys - possibly the biggest I've seen. But I've given you a little starter - an

amuse bouche

as they say in France, but now it's my turn. I think it's time for a serious appetiser. You've made my mouth water. Now see if you can do the same with my fanny."

This was 1967. 'Fanny' was the most common euphemism for 'cunt'; the word 'pussy' hadn't really crossed the Atlantic back then. (Of course, we later learned that Americans use 'fanny' to mean 'bum', but we understood exactly what Roni meant).

I knew enough to not go for the hot spots straight away, and Jeff wasn't exactly a virgin either, so we started kissing her, licking her neck, either side of the pearl choker, stroking her thighs - that sort of thing. Jeff reached behind her and unfastened her bra, and I helped him remove it. Then her hands went back onto our cocks, which felt great. I bent down and licked around, and Jeff, following my lead, worked on her other tit, with both of us eventually homing in on her nipples. Nowadays, I'd think we were moving too fast - I've had quite a few women since then, and most like you to take it slow - but Roni didn't seem to mind. I think she wanted to get to the main event as quickly as possible. I heard her whisper "Oh yes!"

While we were sucking on her nipples, I noticed Jeff starting to try to slide her knickers off. I slipped my thumb under the waistband on my side and Roni helpfully lifted her hips so we could remove them. As Jeff completed the movement, getting them down to her ankles so she could kick them off, I took a chance and slipped my hand over her bush and my fingers into her slit. She let out a long, low moan. I took that as a good sign and pushed my finger inside her. She was very, very wet.

Then I was finger-fucking her, rubbing her clit as I did so, and she started moaning quite loudly. I kept going for several minutes - longer than I normally had to do with Sandra - and then Jeff broke off sucking her nipple, shuffled around, shoved my hand out of the way and stuck his face between Roni's thighs. She moaned even louder.

While Roni was enjoying Jeff's oral work, I wasn't sure what I should be doing. Then she said "My bum. Stick your finger - up there!" Well, I'd never heard a woman ask for that before, but I didn't have any qualms about it. I slid my arm underneath her, probed between her nice, firm buttocks, and found the hole. The area seemed to be pretty wet - there were a lot of fluids dribbling down between her legs, so I collected some on my fingertip and probed. And was surprised that my finger slipped in, to one, then two knuckles.

I was also surprised when she moaned "Oh YESSSS!", and I felt her arse contracting around my finger. I'd never felt that before - it had never occurred to me to stick a finger up a girl's arse - but I guessed that she might be coming. And, of course, she was.