SYNOPSIS: Nigel, and his wife, Angela, are happy to offer a temporary UK home to Nigel's Aunt Nancy, following the death of her rich husband Frank in Australia. On their first evening together, they are absolutely delighted when Nancy signs her will leaving all her fortunes to them when she dies. But wills have to be properly witnessed, and with Nancy's premature departure, someone has to witness her signature. Although the family resemblance is fortuitous, Nigel has reservations about the whole scheme. With just cause, it would appear.

AUTHORS NOTE: Like many of my stories, this is a light-hearted romp which I hope you will enjoy. But it does contain adult themes such as (and the more sensitive readers may wish to close their eyes whilst reading the next 17 words): crossdressing, sex with multiple partners of both genders, illegal acts, getting drunk, humour and extra marital sex. (If you've had your eyes closed, you may now open them.) So if reading material containing those subjects is either illegal or not to your taste (or if you've had your eyes closed), then please do not do it - or at least, don't moan about it afterwards.

PART 3

CHAPTER 6 - FUN AND FROLICS

Well, what would you have said? Here I was feeling incredibly horny after walking from the lift to our suite with my high-sensitivity boobs joggling like crazy, Angela talking about stroking her pussy, and Mary stripping off in front of me and waving her tits in front of my face. Perhaps if I had considered it for a few minutes, I'd have come to a sensible answer.

But I didn't have a few minutes. As she spoke, Mary's hand was moving towards my breasts. Short of jerking them away with a "No!" there was little I could have done, even if I'd decided I wanted to. And perhaps I found it convenient to be indecisive, just as I had when Nancy had assaulted me last Thursday evening.

"A-a-a-h-h-h!"

"They're very sensitive, aren't they?" Mary said. "And I didn't even touch your nipple. Let me just..." With a touch so light, I wondered that I could feel it, she simply grazed her finger across my nipple. But feel it, I did. I gasped as the most wonderful sensations coursed through my body.

"Oh, is the other breast as sensitive?"

It was! My legs felt so shaky that I collapsed onto the bed.

"Oh you poor thing. I suppose with your husband dying, it's been ages since you've had anyone to play with these properly. Well, don't worry about a thing. I can help you; and there's no reason to worry about being unfaithful to his memory, or anything like that. This kind of enjoyment doesn't count. Now I think you probably need someone to suckle your breasts." Her head moved downwards.

***

It was almost midday when Mary's mobile rang. She crawled across the bed to take it from her handbag.

"Hello Pete. Are you back in the hotel now?"..."I'm in Nancy's suite. I've been helping her with stress relief."..."Yes, that's right."... "Well, I'll put it to her and call you back. Bye."

No doubt Pete was thinking of his lunch.

Mary disconnected the call and turned towards me, smiling. "The old bugger guessed immediately what I meant by stress relief," she said.

"Oh," I said, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

"That's alright, don't worry about it," she said, putting out a hand and giving my breast another little stroke. (Heaven!) "The point is, he asked whether you'd like the full works to go with it."

"The full works?"

"Yes. You know. With a man? Only he is a perfect gentleman, and very good with it. And he's only got a thin willy - only don't tell him that - so he slips it inside without any pain, and then he can move it like heaven. If you're a bit nervous about doing it again with a man, I thought it would be the perfect re-introduction for you. But it's your decision; there's no compulsion."

"But he's your husband."

"Yes, but we've just had very nice oral sex, haven't we?" (I couldn't deny that.) "And we always take precautions, so it's quite safe, and it's not as though you're going to take him away from me. No, we both enjoy safe sex with others, and we trust each other."

I guessed that if you're unconcerned about your partner having sex with someone else, then there's no reason not to trust them. I hesitated somewhat. It was, after all, what Angela had been encouraging me to do, and in character for Nancy, but...

"I'm not certain. This morning has been a bit unexpected."

She was so sympathetic. "That's alright. Look, how about a compromise. I'll get him to come up to the suite and I'll meet him in the sitting room and tie his hands behind his back before I bring him in, so you'll feel totally safe with him. Then we can strip him off and you can look him over and see what you think. If you don't want him, then I'll certainly give him one, so he'll have no hard feelings about it - literally, after I've finished with him."

She was being so understanding, it seemed rude to refuse her offer of sex with her husband, so I said, "Mary, you're so nice about everything. I'm a bit nervous but... let's do it."

Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and Mary went into the sitting room to open it. A minute after that, Mary put her head around the bedroom door and said, "I've brought back a prisoner for interrogation. Shall I bring him in?"

She pushed him through the door first, and sure enough, his arms were strapped behind his back with his own belt, and over his head was pulled Mary's tee shirt.

"I thought you might not want him to see you naked if you were going to send him back," she said. She shuffled him over to the bed and made him stand in front of me. "Now," she said, "do you want to pull down his trousers and take a look at the goods on offer?"

"Don't catch the zip," Pete's voice came from beneath the tee shirt. "Anything else, but please don't catch the zip."

I pulled down the zip, careful to comply with Pete's wish, released the waistband on his trousers and pulled down his trousers. Underneath, his underpants were bulging with excitement.

It's strange, but in retrospect I realised that I didn't hesitate before pulling down his underpants. After all, I was really curious to see what his dick was like, and Mary had done a good job of selling it as a fully acceptable prick. Whilst Nigel would never have pulled them down, Nancy was keen to inspect the goods.

"Oh, how beautiful!" I exclaimed.

I'd fully intended to make some positive comment about it, even if I thought it was every bit as horrible as Angela's false prick, but my words were totally reactive, rather than some considered statement. For quite simply, it was beautiful.

The shaft was only about a half-inch diameter, with no throbbing blue veins standing proud from its surface, but smooth skin all the way up to the knob - say one-inch diameter - giving it a mushroom-like appearance. Similarly, there was no wrinkly skin on his chestnut-sized balls and they looked as innocent as table-tennis balls.

I instinctively reached a hand forward to cup them, and he gasped slightly, not expecting my touch. Then I slid my hand up his prick and circled it between fingers and thumb, and gave a couple of pumping motions. Finally, I bent my head forward to inspect the goods more closely, and could not help flicking out my tongue and giving it a slow lick around the head.

"Shall we take that as a 'Yes'?" Mary asked.

For the first time since Pete's phone call, I suddenly realised what I was about to commit - taking a man inside me in the same way as any normal woman would. Was I crazy to have gotten into this situation? Probably, but the buzz of adrenaline through my head was like nothing I'd experienced ever before.

"Take it as a 'Yes, please'," I said, "but go gently with me."

He did. Mary released his arms and removed the tee shirt from his head, then he dropped to his knees and went at my pussy as though he was trying to get his head slowly inside.

In itself, that had me aching for more, especially as Mary decided to start work on my nipples, sucking them so tenderly, I was almost weeping for the next phase.

It came so gently, I might almost have missed it, had the results not been so exciting. He pushed me back on the bed and Mary followed me down, her mouth sucking my tits like a hungry baby. There was no attempt to drill a hole in my body where there was not one already, as Angela had done; instead, I simply felt his prick nuzzling between my lips, and then he was inside.

***

Recent medical research indicates that the clitoris is far larger than its external appearance might indicate. Big Busts had obviously used this knowledge to completely wrap my artificial clitoris around my artificial vagina.

What was incredible was that Pete's prick, with a head of barely one inch, created such a feeling of paradise, when Angela's false prick which was at least twice the diameter, was nothing like as good (although I had thought it pretty good at the time). I guess it's that a light touch feels far more erotic than a heavy touch. Angela's prick had strained everything to get inside me. There was no pain when Pete's beautiful head slipped in, and I could concentrate solely on the pleasure.

As a man, it's impossible to imagine an orgasm that simply goes on and on and on. Mine started within seconds of him slipping inside me. Every slow thrust in was orgasmic, as was every slow withdrawal. Pete said afterwards that he could play me with his prick in the same way that a violinist uses the bow on his instrument. Sliding it either way produced shrieks of unadulterated pleasure from me.

I was in ecstasy for almost an hour, before he withdrew his wonderful tool, and we came to a gentle halt

"I don't know about you, girl, but I could do with some food," he said. "We haven't had lunch yet."

I could willingly have starved to death in order to prolong my pleasure. I looked at the clock; it was almost three pm.

"Why don't we order some food on room service?" I suggested. "Then we'll have time for a bit more pleasure before getting ready for dinner."

As an offer, they both found it irresistible.

***

After dinner, we continued until almost midnight, when Mary drew the action to a halt.

"I don't want to spoil any more fun," she said. (She'd got a nerve, since Pete had been servicing her almost as much as me.) "But we ought to get to bed, now. Remember, we're going on the Murder Mystery tomorrow."

"Murder Mystery?"

Mary nodded. "It's an excursion the hotel organised as an extra. We get the coach at nine, tomorrow morning, which takes us to a manor house, not far away, where a dastardly crime takes place, which we have to solve. We'll be there all day, and we don't get back until ten or eleven in the evening."

I was distraught at the thought, and I only let them out of the room after another heavy session with Pete.

CHAPTER 7 - TUESDAY - THE BREWERY AND THE TEA DANCE

Sixty seconds on Tuesday morning. That's all it took standing outside Reception waving off Pete and Mary on their coach, before a man noticed my tits pushing out the top of my blouse and spoke to me.

"Are you on your own for today?"

I looked around. It was Simon; one of the pair of guys I'd chatted to in the bar on Saturday - the one who'd been interrogating me about where in Australia I had lived.

"Yes," I said. "Pete and Mary have gone off on the Murder Mystery excursion. I tried to get on it at the last minute, but it was fully booked."

"Tell me about it," Simon said. "I was already booked to go on it with Jake, only it turns out the woman he met here on Sunday called Susan-bloody-Bracknell, who he's desperately trying to pull, wanted to go and she hadn't got a place. So, Jake convinced me to give up my place to this Ms Bracknell. I wish I hadn't done it now. She didn't even offer me the cost of the excursion."

"That's mean," I said, "but very noble of you to allow Jake to try to get friendly with her. Not many friends would do that."

"I only came on holiday with him because he persuaded me we could have a great time together. I don't really like coming to this kind of hotel since my wife died last year. But Jake's divorce has recently come through and he said he wanted a break, so I agreed to come with him for a blokes-together holiday. He's been chasing everything in a skirt since we arrived, and I've hardly seen him."

"So, since you've been pushed off the Murder Mystery, do you have any plans for today?"

"There's a good local brewery here," he said. "I thought I might do the brewery tour."

"Brewery?" I said.

"Seacombe Ales," he said. "Are you interested in looking around it? I mean, I know women aren't usually interested in breweries, but I did notice you drinking a pint of lager on Saturday. You never know, I might be able to wean you onto real ale."

"Do you think so?" I asked. "I hope you're not trying to lead me astray."

***

He certainly did. Not by converting me onto real ale, of course - I regarded that as promoting one of life's essentials, as natural as mother's milk. And I'm also not talking about the sex which we got onto by the end of the day, for which I took full responsibility. No, it was the tea dance that really led me astray.

You see, I'd never intended to have sex with Simon. Alright, I pretty soon realized he was a nice enough guy, probably in his early forties. He told me, as we walked down to the brewery, that as a widower he simply hadn't wanted to start a relationship with anyone new. Of course, he was diplomatically telling me that we were going to the brewery as two strangers, thrown together by fate, who might become friendly, but nothing more.

I respected that. If he didn't want to bonk me, or any other woman in sight, then he was a rather unusual male, but that was fair enough. So I played the part of an innocent female friend, as we went around the brewery.

I pretended to know nothing at all about the brewing process, and he meticulously filled in any details that our guide - an elderly, retired brewer with a great sense of humour - didn't properly explain. Mind you, I did notice that he tended to touch me quite a lot - all quite innocent, you understand. A little tap on the arm to draw my attention to the huge supplies of hops, or perhaps taking me by the hand to draw me across to see the steam heaters.

I noticed he also developed a habit of peering down my cleavage at every opportunity. Since every other male in the brewery was doing the same, I could hardly criticise him for it, even if I'd found it objectionable, which I certainly did not. So, regardless that the brewery tour in itself was absolutely riveting, I really enjoyed his company.

The end of the tour coincided with an early lunchtime, and since there was a well-stocked bar selling beer at cost price, which also sold a few incidentals such as sandwiches, it made good sense for us to stay on, sample several of the brews on offer, and grab a bite to eat.

***

It was about three-thirty when we got back to the hotel. By now, the occasional contact between us had turned into quite essential interlinked arms around each other's shoulders, providing mutual support as the ground moved beneath us. Indeed, I noticed his arm around my shoulder had moved to an arm underneath my shoulder, and that he had amazingly long arms. With my breasts still on high sensitivity, I was getting nice w-s-s-s-hing feelings going through me as his hand caressed the side of my breast.

It had been my intention on getting back to the hotel to go to bed - not for sex, but simply to close my eyes whilst the world regained some kind of reality. But that was when Simon saw the tea dance.

"Lesh go," he suggested.

"Go where?" I asked.

"Ish a tea dance," he said.

"Don't need any tea," I said. I had to speak deliberately for the next bit, as it was quite complicated. "Ju know, reality ish an illushon caused by a lack of alcohol?"

Simon thought that incredibly funny, so funny I had to turn and hug him to stop him from falling over. "Didn' know that," he said. "Who shaid it?"

"I did," I said.

We both thought that so funny we had to hug ourselves again, to stop the floor from coming up and hitting us.

When we'd finally recovered, he made the suggestion again. "Lesh go dancin'."

The spirit was willing, and who cared that the flesh was weak? "You're on," I said.

"No. We're on," he said, as the music started in what may have been a rumba, or perhaps a waltz, or a tango. I know that as he led me onto the dance floor, Simon told me what it was called. Indeed, he knew every step, and did his best to get me to move my feet in the right direction at the right time. For the life of me, it's all now just a blur of him grabbing various parts of me and trying to push them in one direction, and it seemed, simultaneously pulling them in another, whilst he gave instructions which contradicted both.

To me, it was all an excellent excuse for a bit of grapple and squeeze, without him acknowledging that his period of official mourning had now ended. But whilst he wouldn't verbally admit it, there was a certain part of his anatomy which was in no doubt. He had a hard-on which, as he held tightly on to me, tried to bore a hole into my stomach.

In spite of the fact that I was three parts sizzled, the effect of all this was doing wonderful things to my body, and I know that my voice came out a lot louder than I intended when I said I thought I was on the point of having a fucking, great orgasm.

Well, I'd meant it to be quite loud because the orchestra were playing noisily. It was unfortunate that they chose that moment to stop, and the sound of my voice carried right around the room, causing most of the old dears, who I now realized comprised every other person in the room, to reach either for their heart pills or their packs of Viagra.

Both Simon and I thought this more cause for hilarity, and when the music started again, he then took us through another dance that more resembled sexual intercourse than any of the modern day equivalents.

I think it was at that moment that the hotel manager came into the ballroom with the porter, and sprouted some words about retiring to our rooms. When we failed to take note, the porter grabbed hold of Simon and yanked him in one direction, and the manager grabbed me and pulled in the other (having a good feel of my nipples as he did so) and then we were all in the lift and it was shooting upwards to our rooms.

But as the porter pressed the lift buttons for six (my floor) and three (presumably his) Simon said, "Ish no good you takin' me to my beroom, cause my fren Jake ish currently in there shaggin the arse of Lady fuckin Bracknell, and she's going to be pretty fuckin upshet when you throw me in with them."

I have to say that it was at that moment that my respect for Simon rose out of all proportion. It was as much as I could do to work out where my bedroom was, and here he was, outthinking two sober people by inventing a completely fictitious story. The manager and the porter looked at each other, and I could see they were wondering, "Oh shit! What do we do with this drunken slob now?"

So I solved their dilemma. "There'sh two berooms in my shuite. He can come with me."

"Yeah!" Simon added. "You tek me there and we can all come together."

They didn't really have much alternative, so they took us both into my suite, and made a great show of carrying me into the master bedroom and laying me on the four-poster, and taking Simon into the other bedroom, and presumably doing the equivalent for him, and closing the doors of both our rooms.

Thirty seconds I heard the outer door close, and I was stumbling through the door into the sitting room at exactly the same time as Simon. We both managed to crawl to each other, somewhere in the general vicinity of the settee and start some serious grappling - you know the kind of thing; trying to get each other's clothes off when we couldn't bother to undo the buttons, and with the lining of the zips getting stuck in the zips and so on.

I know it all heightened my passion, and when we were eventually both naked and I could see that Simon's cock was every bit as magnificent as Angela's artificial prick, I didn't even bat an eyelid - I simply took it all in - and I'm not talking here about my powers of observation.

CHAPTER 8 - WEDNESDAY

I guess millions of women have awoken feeling exactly the same way as I did. "Why did I get so drunk? Why did I let myself get talked into bed like that?"

Of course, the answer for me anyway, if not for a large number of other women, was that I was undoubtedly responsible for the first, and that led directly onto the second. I could hardly blame Simon for having sex with a woman who - after he'd sucked her nipples so nicely - had told him she was absolutely desperate for it, and it didn't fucking matter about him not having a condom.

Fortunately, it didn't. I was hardly going to get pregnant, and I didn't think I could catch aids through a Hiplet. I had swallowed quite a lot of his semen, and my face and body (and all the bed linen) had been liberally sprayed with it. Hell, with testicles the size of tennis balls, he ejaculated a gallon of spunk each time he came!

Further contemplation was interrupted because my body was indicating an urgent need which could not be put off. Fortunately, I managed to get to the toilet before I wet myself, then I drank two glassfuls of water and went back to bed to nurse my hangover. It was only as I was dropping off to sleep that I noticed that Simon was no longer in my bedroom. For that matter, where was Angela? She should have returned this morning clutching the chequebook and bankcard. I turned over and let my hangover submerge me.

***

It was early afternoon before I was awoken by the phone ringing. Fortunately, my hangover had all but gone, and I was feeling well enough to answer it.

"Where have you been?" Angela asked. "I've been trying to get hold of you since yesterday."

"Just entering into the spirit of being Aunt Nancy," I said. I really didn't think it politic to tell her that whilst she had been presumably getting on with all the housework and other jobs that needed doing around the house, I had been getting paralytically drunk in Seacombe.

"Well, at least you haven't been stuck in your bedroom all the time," Angela said. "Hopefully, you've got the will witnessed by now."

The will! I'd forgotten all about it. Hopefully, it was waiting for me at Reception. "Er, not quite," I replied, but I've got several people lined up who can do it."

"I should think so too," she said. "Anyway, I was ringing to tell you the bank card hasn't yet arrived, so I'm still hanging on here. Hopefully, it'll arrive here in tomorrow's post, so I should get back there for Friday."

"Hope so, Angie," I said. "I'm missing you." (Well, I HAD missed her when I'd awoken this morning.)

"Me too," she said. "Hope to see you then. Bye."

I got out of bed and slipped on my dressing gown, then I went out into the sitting room, only to see Simon slumped on the settee.

"I didn't realise you were still here," I said. "I thought you'd shagged me and left me." (Actually, after I'd said the words, I realised they sounded harsher than I'd intended.)

"No, I'm sorry, I should have explained."

I smiled at him and sat down next to him. "No, it's me who's sorry. That was very nice what you did to me last night, and I enjoyed it very much." I gave him a kiss on his lips, and snuggled against him.

He smiled back at me, and said, "Thanks, Nancy. I thought we had an absolutely great time. Only... Well..."

"You don't want to make it a permanent arrangement," I interrupted.

"No," he said.

"Thank God for that," I replied. "I certainly don't. We had a great time together; that doesn't mean we have any kind of commitment to each other. Now, are you feeling ready for a little lunch?"

Simon nodded. "I could eat an elephant."

"No elephants on the menu," I said, "but you could have a ploughman instead." I glanced at the clock. "We're too late for the bar, so why don't we have room service? And how about a bit of the horse that bit you?"

"Do you mean a pint of real ale?" Simon asked, visibly brightening.

"I didn't," I said, "but we can order that on room service as well. No, I meant the other horse that bit you. Ne-i-g-h-h-h-h!"

***

It was around four o'clock when I heard a knock on the door. We were in a temporary intermission with Simon in the toilet, so I got up, slipped on my dressing gown and went to answer it.

"Any drunken parties going on here?" Mary asked.

"Hi Mary. Hi Pete. Come in," I said, having a quick glance over my shoulder to make certain a naked Simon hadn't come into the sitting room.

"Wow! We heard all about your antics at the tea-dance," Pete said. "And since we haven't seen you all day, and Jake was saying he hasn't seen Simon, either, we can only guess what you two have been up to."

"Then you must have a pretty vivid imagination, Pete," I retorted.

"Naw," he said. "It's because I've been led astray by Mary. She's already got me to do every unimaginable sex act, you could ever not imagine."

"Did someone mention unimaginable sex acts?" Simon said, poking his head around the door.

"My God!" Mary said, staring at the gap in the door, level with Simon's knee.

"Sorry," Simon said, rapidly withdrawing his huge cock from sight. "Didn't mean to embarrass you."

"I'm not putting up with that kind of behaviour," Mary said, getting up and marching over to the bedroom door. "Tantalising us with a quick glimpse, and then withdrawing it before we've had proper chance to admire it."

She barged thought the door, shouting as she went into the bedroom, "Come here, you cock-teaser. Let me see."

It was followed by a shriek from Simon, and a second later, Mary came back through the bedroom door dragging something behind her.

"Pete, just look at this beauty," she said, holding up Simon's cock as though displaying a trophy. "Have you ever seen anything like it?"

Pete shook his head. "Christ, it puts me in my place, doesn't it luv."

"Course it doesn't, you silly old bugger. Mind you, no wonder Simon got Nancy pissed before showing it to her." She looked up at Simon. "I bet most women faint when you slap that in front of them, don't they?"

"Don't be so personal." I rounded to Simon's defence. "There can't be many men who are as considerate as Simon - well apart from Pete," I added, keen not to hurt his feelings.

"But isn't it a monster?" Mary said. She slid her hand down his cock and was now fondling one of his balls. "Can we see it in action?"

"I'm not displaying to a peep-show," Simon said, "and please, can I have my ball back."

"Sorry, I didn't mean like that," Mary said. "I thought perhaps a party piece."

"A party piece?" both Simon and I spoke together.

"Mary's party pieces are famous," Pete said. "Or perhaps I should say infamous. They're a bit like synchronised swimming, only with sex. Great fun."

Simon and I looked at each other. "Well, I don't know," I said.

"Oh, don't be a silly," Mary said. "We've already done a three-way with you."

Simon looked gob-smacked by that, so I said, "Thanks, Mary."

She was undeterred. "This will only be with one extra. Come on, Pete, let's get undressed."

I have never seen two people get undressed so quickly. One second, they were standing there with their clothes on, the next they were both naked, and Pete's thin prick was pointing up towards my face. Gulp! This was getting out of hand.

"I see you like sandwiches," Mary said, looking at the remains of our lunch.

"Well it wasn't really a sandwich..." Simon was starting to say, when Mary gave him a quick squeeze, which shut him up, and then led him by the balls across to our Victorian dining table.

She pulled out a chair and said, "Right, hop up onto the table, luv, and lie on your back."

I think Simon would have protested, but Mary was already moving his balls up there, so he had to follow. She handed a foil package to him, and added, "Slip this on."

Then she turned to me. "Take off your dressing gown, get onto the table and straddle Simon. Don't get him inside you yet, but you can let him nuzzle against you if you want to start getting ready."

"But why are we using the table?" I protested. "What's wrong with the bed?"

"Too soft," Mary said. "You need a firm foundation for this kind of set-up. Come on, don't let Simon feel lonely. Get up there."

It was easier to comply than to argue. I stepped onto the chair and then knelt on the table, and worked my way along his body until I was level with Simon's knees. I straddled him, his prick settling between my tits and I used my hands to wrap my tits around his shaft, something I'd done a number of times before.

"Don't get him too excited," Mary directed. "We want him to last the course. Now," she said, examining the table, "I could really do with another person to..."

A knocking at the door interrupted her words. She picked up my dressing gown from the floor and slipped it on, before answering.

"Jake!" she said. "We were just wondering where you'd got to."

"I was looking for Simon," we heard him say from the corridor. "I was hoping he might..."

"Come in, come in," Mary said, "we need an extra prick." She reached through the door and an instant later he was pulled inside the door, and his mouth dropped open as he saw first Pete, absolutely stark naked, his boner pointing to the ceiling, and then Simon and me, lying on the dining table.

"Right, get stripped off," Mary said.

There was no hesitation from Jake. In fact, he was naked almost as fast as Mary and Pete had been.

Mary pulled a chair up to the other end of the table and said, "Alright, I want you to kneel by Simon's head - no, you don't have to dangle your balls in Simon's face. Move forward so that Nancy can give you a gobble. And slip on this condom, first." There was another foil packet in her hand. I couldn't work out where they were coming from.

I gulped a bit at that. Obviously, I'd been eyeing him up, as soon as he took off his clothes. His prick was about the same size as mine - average sized. "God," I thought, "I'm starting to realise what an average sized prick is like!"

If Angela had instructed me to gobble off a bloke on Monday then I'd have refused without thinking. However, since then I'd had my drunken session with Simon, during which time I'd had gob-fulls of semen squirted into my mouth, up my nose and into my eyes. The idea of taking a condom covered prick of medium size was no challenge at all.

"This table's a bit rocky," Jake said, giving a little jerk of his body to demonstrate. He was right, the table did move quite noticeably.

"Rubbish," Mary said. "In Queen Victoria's time, they built tables to take this kind of punishment all the time. They're built to last. Now, Peter. Condom on?"

I couldn't see him from where I was lying, Jake's cock almost poking me in the eye, but I assumed he waved his condom-covered prick at Mary, for she continued, "You like making sandwiches, don't you? Up behind Nancy, then."

I started to have a fit of the giggles, then. The idea of Pete making sandwiches, presumably with the left-overs of our lunch, whilst the rest of us had an orgy was ridiculous. I felt sorry for poor Pete, being left out of it, presumably because his cock was so small.

"This table is really wobbling," Pete said, behind me. It was too, and he had to grab the cheeks of my bum for support.

"Rubbish," Mary said. "Now, I'm coming to stand astride the lot of you, facing Jake, whilst we all get connected up."

She climbed onto the table; even she felt it move now, as she said, "Hmm, it does seem a bit rickety. Never mind, we're all in place now."

She stepped astride us, and then I had to move forward and lie flat on top of Simon, so she could stand either side of my shoulders, which resulted in my arms being trapped by my sides

"So Nancy, move down onto Simon and take him inside you.

Well, I'd had plenty of practice, now, first getting onto Angela's huge prick, and then the many sessions I'd had with Simon over the last twenty-four hours. I moved my body a bit further forward until his prick slipped between my legs, and then wriggled gently from side to side, working him through my narrowest parts, before I could finally slide down his cock.

"O-o-o-f-f-f!" I said, with deep satisfaction. "That feels good."

"Great," Mary said. "Now, Jake, move forward and slip your cock into Nancy's mouth."

I was expecting him to be as gentle with me as I had been with Simon. Instead, as soon as he'd got his prick between my lips, he grabbed the back of my head with his hands and lunged right inside, his cock going halfway down my throat. I almost gagged, and with Mary standing where she was, I couldn't get my hands around to grab hold of him, but then, fortunately, he was sliding out again, and I decided I'd give him a right piece of my mind as soon as I could speak.

It was not to be, for he pulled back to the point where his knob was just inside my teeth before lunging forward again. "Fucking hell! That's good," he said.

I expected Mary to notice my predicament and stop the proceedings. Instead, she said, "OK, Pete. Make a sandwich."

Why on earth she was going on about that when Jake was ramming his prick right down my throat, almost choking me to death, I couldn't imagine - until I felt Pete's prick nuzzling against my back passage. Suddenly, I knew exactly what type of sandwich Pete was going to make.

"N-a-a-g-g-g-h-h-h!" I said, or something like it. What I wanted to say was, "No, I've changed my mind about all this. Can we stop?"

To be fair to Pete, as always, he was the perfect gentleman. He slid past the ring of my arse with minimum of pain, and then he was pleasuring me with all the skills he knew. What's more, as he thrust backwards and forwards in time with Jake, they were moving me on top of Simon, and his monster was thrusting against all my best parts.

"A-a-a-o-o-o-h-h-h!" I said, as, with all three orifices being fucked, I started one tremendous orgasm.

CHAPTER 9 - THURSDAY

It was the early hours of Thursday morning when Simon drew his car up outside my house.

"Is this it?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks," I said. "This is it. It was really decent of you to give me a lift, after everything that happened."

"No problem," he said. "They've said I can probably go and collect Jake in two or three days, but I don't want to stay down there on my own, especially as I'd have to find another hotel."

"Yes," I said. "I thought the hotel were really snotty, the way they threw us all out, simply because their furniture was so inferior that it collapsed, causing a great deal of embarrassment to us all."

"I know," he said. "It wouldn't have been so bad if that kid on the beach hadn't seen us through the French windows as soon as I got onto the table, naked. Even then, he didn't have to draw the attention of everybody on the beach to us."

"No," I said. "But they did give us a nice cheer as we all crashed through the French windows onto the balcony. It was a shame that all that glass got embedded into Jake's arse and back."

"Not really," Simon said. "He saved everyone else from getting hurt. But it was a pity you clenched your teeth as we all hit the floor. But then let's not forget, it was his fault in the first place. If he hadn't made me give up my place on the Murder Mystery trip, we wouldn't have met and got drunk, and everything else."

"Yes," I said, and paused for a second, before adding, "Quite fortunate he did make you give it up, really."

"Yes," he said.

I gave him a nice kiss before getting out the car. He also got out, and helped me out with my suitcase. We had another little kiss, and then he got back into his car and drove off. I watched him with a smile on my face.

***

It was totally silent as I let myself into our house. In the rumpus after the accident, I hadn't been able to call Angela as I couldn't find my mobile phone.

The manager and a couple of porters had burst into our room immediately after the accident, whilst we were still untangling limbs and Jake was screaming his head off. OK, the porter called an ambulance for him, but they made us all get dressed and go downstairs. A few minutes later an ambulance arrived, and Jake was put into it and taken off to hospital.

Then they'd escorted the rest of us into the manager's office, where he'd shouted and raved about the cost of the damage and the reputation of the hotel, whilst we shouted back about the inferior quality of his furnishings.

Unknown to us, whilst that was going on the porters packed everybody's suitcases, and as we left the manager's office, we were all shown the front door. Fortunately, Simon had given me a lift for the four-hour journey home.

I left my suitcase downstairs and went up to our bedroom. I went in quietly, without putting on the light, so as not to frighten Angela - after all, she wasn't expecting me - then bent over her head on the pillow and kissed her fully on the lips. Perhaps she'd heard me enter the house and come upstairs, for she didn't seem a bit surprised. Unexpectedly, her tongue slipped into my mouth - Angela had never previously liked that part of a good snog - and we played with each other for a few seconds.

In fact, Angela was doing fantastic things with her tongue intertwined with mine - even tickling my tonsils, when the light went on, and Angela's voice came from the other side of the bed: "What the fuck is going on here?"

We both jerked away from each other, and I found I was staring into the face of Kerry, the breakfast waitress from the Grand Hotel.

***

It would be somewhat of an understatement to say that Angela and I had a disagreement; it was the mother of all rows, the worst that we had ever had. Alright, I have to say that I didn't go fully into the reason why I'd left the hotel in the early evening and returned home without warning. But then I felt I should not have needed to give a warning.

Unfortunately, Angela did ask about my success of getting the will witnessed - something I had only remembered as I was leaving the hotel - too late for any signatures apart from Simon's.

But then she admitted that she HAD taken the will to the hotel on Saturday, but had simply invented its absence in order to have an excuse to bring Kerry home. It had been the same with the bank cards, which had arrived in the post on Monday morning, but which Angela used as an excuse to prolong her period of debauchery with Kerry. She also admitted that she'd been having sex with Kerry in our hotel room on Sunday morning, when I'd gone back there to collect her.

Fortunately, Angela had asked Kerry to leave the room fairly early on in our row, so she didn't pick up any of the real truth behind the façade, and I'm not going into much of the other pointless arguments that we both used during our debate. (At least, my activities with Nancy never came up!)

At the end, we came to a kind of natural break, more through exhaustion than of victory and defeat. Kerry spent the rest of the night in the spare room, whilst Angela and I slept as far apart as we could in the double bed.

***

Fortunately, by next morning, things had calmed down. Kerry announced she was leaving us, and she even consented to be the other witness on the will before she went. Angela apologised for deceiving me about Kerry, and in turn, I apologised for over-reacting about it. After all, she had given me permission - which I had utilised - to make love as a woman with others.

So when the phone call came at around nine-thirty, we were more or less a couple again. Angela answered it.

"Yes. Yes. Mrs Brown does live here."

I moved forward to take the handset from her, but Angela held up a cautionary hand. "I'm sorry, she's not here at the moment, but I'm helping her with her personal issues."

It made sense that Angela spoke, rather than myself, I reasoned. She couldn't be caught out by any questions which I should, but did not, know the answer.

"Oh? Is it really that urgent?" Well, yes, I suppose we could come in this afternoon - say about two-thirty, if that's alright. It is? Okay, we'll see you then. Bye."

Angela put down the phone and said, "That was a Mrs Sullivan who is the UK representative of the executors of Frank's will. She says there's something rather unusual in the will that she needs to talk with us about, urgently. I said we'd get there for two-thirty."

My stomach did a loop-the-loop. "Did you have to make it so soon?"

"Well, she said it was urgent. I thought it was better to get it out of the way. Otherwise, we'd be worrying about it all weekend."

She was right of course. In any case, she'd made the appointment. Better get it over with.

***

"Thank you for coming in to see me, Mrs Brown," Mrs Sullivan said. "I'm sorry to call you at short notice, but I only got notification this morning."

We both muttered inconsequential responses.

"Now, Mrs Brown, as I explained over the phone to Mrs Simmons, I am acting on behalf of the executors of your late husband's estate. I need to read the relevant section of his will to you, and make some checks, as required by the will." (Hell! That sounded ominous. Was she going to check my identity?) "I advised her this morning that it might be in your best interests if you could bring along a professional advisor, but you have chosen instead to bring Mrs Simmons, who I understand is the wife of your nephew."

"Yes, that's right," I said.

"Fine," she said. "You may think I'm being unnecessarily formal, but when I read the will, I'm sure you will understand the reasons."

I nodded to indicate I understood, although I was puzzled by what she said. What the hell was she talking about?

"Alright," she said, "in that case, I'll go ahead with the reading of the relevant sections of the will. Firstly, I need to tell you that the residue of the estate, some eleven million Australian dollars is shared equally between Mr Brown's two sons by his previous marriage, which I understand you were already aware of."

I smiled sweetly, thinking, "Hell, Nancy had never even mentioned sons by a previous marriage, never mind Frank leaving them the main part of the estate."

"So, I'll now read the relevant part of the will," she continued.

" 'To my wife, Nancy Brown, I bequeath the sum of two million dollars,' - that's about one and a quarter million pounds sterling," she added for Angela's benefit (and unknowingly, for mine) " '...provided that she has remained chaste to my memory for a period of two weeks following my death, this to be evidenced by my executors using the key enclosed with this will to unlock the chastity belt which I have insisted she wear for the majority of our married life together.' "

Chastity belt? What the hell!

Mrs Sullivan waved a key in the air. "So, the question I have to ask you, Mrs Brown - and I confess I am embarrassed at having to ask it - is whether I can use this key to unlock the chastity belt you are hopefully wearing."

I was speechless, but Angela came in, "So that's what you meant, Aunt Nancy, when you arrived at Heathrow and said that you needed to see someone about the lock on your little jewel box. I thought it was strange at the time, because when I helped you unpack your huge suitcase the next day, your jewel box was inside it - and it wasn't even a lockable jewel box."

"Do I take it from your niece's remarks Mrs Brown," Mrs Sullivan said, "that you are no longer wearing the chastity belt?"

I couldn't even speak, as the thoughts whirled around my head. My God! That's what Nancy had been doing in Slough - having her chastity belt removed. No wonder she'd been so ready for sex that evening after being chaste, perhaps through many months of her husband's illness. And the sum of two million Australian dollars was dependent upon me still wearing a chastity belt that I knew nothing about.

"No," Angela said. "Mrs Brown is no longer wearing the chastity belt."

"Mrs Brown," Mrs Sullivan said, "can you confirm that?"

There was no point in lying, for she had the key and would want to use it if I claimed it was there. "That's right," I said. "I'm afraid I had the belt removed as soon as I arrived in this country. I thought it was rather an antiquated custom, you see, and certainly not..."

"You don't have to explain to me, Mrs Brown," she said. "I think it's the most appalling way to treat a woman, and almost unbelievable that could happen in a so-called civilised country.

"However, I am not at liberty to debate the issue, I can only carry out the wishes specified in the will, and I'll read on to explain."

She started reading again. " 'Should my wife no longer be wearing the chastity belt (and one can make one's own judgement about the morality of such a person who, less than two weeks after her husband's death, feels the need to remove a device provided solely to protect her pureness), then the sum of two million dollars will be ring-fenced and put into trust. The trust shall pay my wife the sum of twenty thousand dollars per annum, payable monthly in advance, for the rest of her life.'

"That's about twelve and a half thousand pounds," she added for Angela's benefit, "or around a thousand pounds per month."

A thousand pounds per month! It would take years to pay off the debts we'd incurred since Nancy arrived - the cost of the hotel, the gowns she'd bought in Slough, and even the money Angela had spent on purchasing her willy from Big Busts.

"There is an important rider I must tell you about," she added, starting to read from the will, " 'Should my wife, in a fit of remorse, decide from this moment on to commit to remain chaste to my memory, the annual payment shall be increased to two hundred thousand dollars. Such commitment is to be demonstrated by her donning a new chastity belt, the key to be kept by the trustees, and its presence checked on a monthly basis prior to handing over the payment. Should the trustees discover at any time that the belt has been removed or tampered with, then payment will immediately revert for all time to twenty thousand dollars per annum.' "

Mrs Sullivan looked up from the will. "So there you have it. If you agree to wear a chastity belt from now on - and I have one here ready for you to put on - your annual income will increase to two hundred thousand dollars, but every month I must check that you are still wearing it. If at any time you ask me to unlock it, or if I discover during the monthly inspection that it has been removed or tampered with, then your allowance reduces to twenty thousand per annum. I'm afraid I need you to make the decision today, before you leave this office."

I was gob-smacked. That would equate to over ten thousand pounds a month. It would pretty quickly solve our financial position. But there was no way I could put on a chastity belt.

"Could you give us some time together," Angela asked. "I'm certain you understand that this is an entirely preposterous stipulation of the will, and we may want to contest it."

"Of course you can have time together," Mrs Sullivan said, "but I must warn you that the trustees are required to protect Mr Brown's wishes to the best of their ability, regardless of personal feelings. This would inevitably mean you taking any challenge to court, and the cost of any such challenge would come out of the trust fund. My suspicion is that the costs of such action would easily consume the whole of the amount contained in the trust, so effectively, you'd be fighting over nothing. Anyway, let me give you and your niece some time together." She got up and left the room.

"Fucking hell, Angela," I said. "Nancy has done for us. We're going to be bankrupt. We can't pay back the money we owe, with me out of work and a mere twelve thousand quid a year from the trust."

"No, but we'd be alright if we take the higher amount," she said.

"Don't be stupid!" I screamed. "I'd have to wear a chastity belt. No way!"

"I can understand why you might say that," Angela said, "but you don't have to commit for all time. You could agree to put it on today, and you'll immediately receive seven thousand pounds. Even if you decide to cut the belt off tonight, the first payment would pay off a large part of our overdraft. Keep it on for another month, and we'd be in profit."

"But you can't expect me to go without sex for a month. Besides, Big Busts said that the Hiplet will need taking off every week to ten days."

"We can ask them about that. They seemed fairly flexible; they might be able to suggest a way around the problem. But I do think the important point is you agree today to wear the chastity belt. At least, you can then change your mind tomorrow. If you decide to say 'No" now, we're condemned to bankruptcy."

I shook my head and gave a huge sigh. The problem was, she was right. I had to have the chastity belt put on today if we were to remain solvent.

So I said, "I suppose so," and then immediately remembered that it was exactly this same argument - about trying it and then changing my mind later - which had got us into the scrape we were in.

It was too late. Angela had already called Mrs Sullivan back into the room and told her I would wear the belt.

EPILOGUE - TWO MONTHS LATER

Alright, so I'm still playing the part of Aunt Nancy, and still wearing the chastity belt. Angela was right; Big Busts had been able to fix me up so I could continue to wear the Hiplet beneath the chastity belt. Every two weeks or so, when I shed a layer of skin, the Hiplet comes loose and Big Busts slide a thin pipe between the garment and my skin, and wash it all out. Then they squib more glue inside, and fix the Hiplet back in position.

As for sex, well Angela had a good look at the chastity belt and felt there was no way a conventional prick, or even a finger, could be slipped inside either my vagina or my arse. But she did suggest that a certain someone had a remarkably long and versatile tongue, and that she might be able to satisfy me.

Indeed, she did. Her tongue can work its way inside the chastity belt from the hole where my anus is, and then she only has to put it against my clit and jiggle and that, combined with Angela sucking on my nipples makes sex as good as it can get. And of course, we all have to return the favours for each other, so we're all happy.

I have now received my third monthly payment, and we are comfortably in credit. Oh, and the other thing - Aunt Nancy is still lying in our freezer. Obviously, she must continue to remain 'alive' in order for her income to continue, but we're keeping her on the eventuality that someday, perhaps, we might want to bump her off, when we have sufficient money.

Some hopes of that. The way we're starting to spend, we'll never have enough money. Why, only yesterday, we were passing a dress shop in town and they had this utterly beautiful dress in the window. We simply had to buy one each. We look great when we go out together now. It's almost a shame that I'm not allowed to screw any more men as there's no shortage of volunteers!