That evening Albert Hall took a stroll. "Physical activity is a prerequisite for a healthy mind." he was fond of declaring, "The languishing of sinew and muscle is all too relevant to the degeneration of the brain."
Not that he was overly extravagant with his exercise. He was small and unctuous and his lump-like bulk was too ungainly to carry him far beyond the village boundary, so he partook of his constitutional in the small wooded spinney behind the church.
He had never come to terms with the poor opinion his wife had of him. The two of them had not enjoyed any kind of marital relationship for months. Not since he'd suggested doing something other than an act for possible procreation at bedtime. The idea of sodomy had appalled her. It was unnatural she'd said. She'd called him a disgusting pervert and had actually suggested he was homosexual.
Stuff and nonsense of course. A cruel jibe and blatantly untrue. The woman had no sense of adventure. Everything he did was innocently driven by a desire to extend well-known boundaries and experience the untried.
He became lifted from his reverie when he became aware of two people a short way ahead of him on the woodland path. Mrs Ambridge and Mrs O'Toole, two of his wife's dreadful allies.
He tutted in irritation. They had paused to gossip, and on drawing level he would be obliged to pass the time of day with them. And of course that would give Mrs Ambridge the chance to complain about her gout, and allow Mrs O'Toole the opportunity to describe her appendectomy, which she was convinced had involved the removal of half her stomach.
Veering off to avoid them he took a less used path through the trees, and the leafy track took him past the crumbing remains of an ancient Saxon church.
Saxon church? That was pure hokum put about by the locals trying to drum up tourist trade. The truth was in the parish records, which described the building that had once stood there as a simple cottage that had been erected in the 19th Century. Apparently it had been a place of ill repute for the whole of its existence, owned by two sisters of easy virtue and frequented by wealthy farmers and anonymous, cloak shrouded gentry during the failing light of each evening.
Shame they were both gone, thought Albert moodily, they probably wouldn't have made such an almighty fuss about a little bit of sexual adventure.
The broken walls of the ruin loomed to the side of him like the stump of a gigantic rotten molar, barely shoulder height now and covered with lichen and every other kind of natures sepsis. Overhead a black and white jay screeched its annoyance at being disturbed, but it wasn't himself that had disturbed it. He heard other noises, indistinct muffled sounds that he interpreted as somebody up to no good. Amorous frolicking he waged -- some persons marital treachery with a neighbour perhaps, or a pair of randy teenager's surrendering to lust.
Curiosity and a generous helping of voyeuristic licentiousness lead him away from the path. He threaded his way forward to where the trees gave way to a thicket, and then his piggy-eyes widened and brightened as he saw the first expanse of bare flesh. An elderly man and an attractive young woman sprawling amorously together on the grass at the base of a crumbling stone wall, clothing dishevelled, hands clutching wildly.
Finding a patch of bush that would screen him from those he was observing he parted it to gain a better, closer view; and then his mouth fell open in a long wide gape. The man he recognised at once as his wife's brother Henry, he knew him well enough and he knew most of the females in the locality too. So who was the flighty young madam with him making so freely with her favours?
Suddenly he caught his breath. He did know who she was. The spread-eagled girl pressing so lively against his brother-in-laws stout body was Lily, barely nineteen and Henry's own daughter.
Goodness, thought Albert Hall, speechless and astounded and uncertain of what to do. He simply stared at his disgusting brother-in-law frolicking with the product of his own loins. Henry was caressing every lush curves of Lily's body, touching everywhere, skimming his hand over all kinds of intimate dips and hollows.
What he should have done of course was to strut out to where they could see him and put a stop to such repugnant goings on. Yes, that's what he should have done, that would be the right thing to do. The trouble was that although Henry was as broad in the beam as he was himself, he was more energetic and aggressive, and there was a definite chance of getting a thump on the nose.
However, Albert's own sinful, brazen thoughts ruthlessly intruded on any idea he had to depart the scene. The vivid image of the two of them together and what they were doing gave him a thick, rampant hard-on, the best he'd known for ages.
Hunkering down he sheepishly began to monitor the event, moving a branch of gorse out of the way to gain a better view. The sight of Henry's debauchery was exquisite.
Within a few moments Lily was stretched out on her back and her father's trousers had been unhitched and were down. Henry's partially undressed thighs made a grotesque sight, but when his rump and thighs began rising up and plunging down between Lily's legs with great vigour all the unsightliness became forgiven. The girl was half-naked herself by then, the calves of her legs resting on the mans shoulders as he pushed his considerable asset in and out of what must have been a very stretched, young pussy-hole.
Knowing Henry's fat cock was ploughing the girl seemed deplorable to Albert. It was gross. But it was exciting too. Unacceptable but lovely. It was every hot, lascivious scenario he'd ever envisioned. It represented every carnal thought that had passed through his mind. Every erotic daydream he'd ever had.
It was a raunchy sight that soon had his own randy peg stirring. He could feel it pushing against the insides of his trousers, so he made himself comfortable, unbuttoned his fly and liberated the rearing flesh. Almost thoughtlessly he began to milk it. Wanting to remain inconspicuous, he thought it prudent to move as little as possible, but after the first few strokes he surrendered unconditionally to pumping furiously with his hand and trying to stifle his own unbidden sighs and moans.
Oh, Henry was decadent. Oh, Lily was an immoral tramp. Oh, what a picture they made. What would his dear upright wife have to say about this little scene? Wouldn't be so righteous with himself after seeing her brother pumping Lily, would she?
As he watched there was a shift that gave everything a whole new perspective. The big white whale of Henry tipped over onto his hip and then over onto his back, and Lily climbed up and sat astride him, her nubile thighs obligingly skewering down on his thick shaft. He had a clear view of everything. What a dick. He'd always suspected Henry had a couple more inches than he had, and he wasn't wrong. The man owned a monster.
The girl was moaning and sighing, but she wasn't being raped. Rather than struggling she was leaning back supported by her slim arms, and humping up and down while rolling her head in the moist agony of breathless pleasure. Moreover, the girl's slender bare knees were bent up and splayed out each side of the man's vigorous thighs and she was moving her hips in a subtle suggestive shunt. She appeared to be accepting his lust and meeting every degenerate lung.
He couldn't see everything in great detail, not as much as he would have wished, but he could imagine the girl's juicy, pink pussy stretching wide and sliding up and down Henry's big, porky rod. Henry had always boasted a good deal more cock than he had himself.
Nevertheless, Albert's own somewhat less generous issue gave a couple of spasms and stood up like a truncheon as he watched the other man's palyderm dick stabbing up and down; in and out.
