28 Dec

Four colly birds – the 4th day of Christmas

The fourth in an unrelated series of stories, inspired by the 12 days of Christmas; Day 4: Four colly birds

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, four colly birds.

It’s Christmas, the time I am allowed to revert back to my childhood and get all excited for the week. A time to eat, drink and open presents.


My true love was out, she had some urgent matter to attend to, but true to form, she had left my present beneath the tree, wrapped in the familiar red lustre paper with a smart gold bow.

Today’s present was one of those that you know instantly what it is, just a few millimetres thick, and a similar size to a photograph, I tore off the paper to reveal a voucher wallet.  Inside I find a square piece of paper with my true love’s inimitable handwriting.

meet me at the field by the old mill at 10.15

Looking at my watch, that was 20 minutes hence The old mill was about a mile and a half away, so I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door.


As seems to have become the norm, the late December weather was moist but not especially cold, and the fast pace I was walking kept me warm in the mid-morning air.

I arrived at the old mill with a few minutes to spare, but my true love was nowhere to be seen.

I wandered round the outside of the mill, looking through the overgrown bracken to peer through broken windows.  It always surprises me how much the mill itself reduces the noise from the busy road.  It’s so tranquil on the far side of the mill.

I stood out a little, being the only person in sight not walking a dog or flying the drone they’d received for Christmas just a few days earlier.

As I neared the remnants of the grain entrance, my true love appeared in the doorway, much more suitably dressed for December in a long coat.


I walked towards her, as I approach, she parts her long coat to reveal a stockinged leg.  Bent at the knee, the stocking finished halfway up her thigh in a thick band decorated with red roses.

She unbuttons her coat from bottom to top, revealing a basque, the balconette cups barely containing her ample buxom. The red of the roses at the top of her stockings continues through the basque, a stark contrast to the icy blue of her eyes.

The coat fully unbuttoned, she shrugged it to the floor.  I nervously looked around, the old mill was a popular place for people to walk their dogs, family walks and all manner of other events.  There was no one in immediate eyesight, so I hurried over and picked up her coat.

“what are you doing?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“just having some fun” she said baking into the doorway a little more.


In the shadows of the doorway, I felt a little more at ease, and as the winter sun shone sparkles on the dust she had disturbed, I was able to fully appreciate my true love’s choice of outfit.


The basque clung to her curvaceous frame, her breasts sitting high on her chest, the curves of her stomach highlighted by the vertical red stripes, pinching in at her waist.  The hemline cutting high on her buttocks, really showing off those that I adore to squeeze, the front dipping to cover her modesty.


Lapping up the image before me, I eye her up and down and realise that her stockings are in fact hold ups.


She seems oblivious to the chill in the air, the only giveaway her nipples which are straining at the basque.


She grabs my hand and pulls me towards her, burying it between her thighs.  The coldness of her skin giving away the absence of knickers.  She turns my hand over and strokes her vulva with my palm.

I need no further invitation, and oblige by slipping my middle finger between her labia, the moist warmth of her horniness a stark juxtaposition to the cold of her skin.

I lean in and whisper in her ear “you are so naughty”.

She parts her legs a little more, I take the invite and slip my middle finger into her wet pussy.  She raises her leg and hooks it into my hip, grinding down into my hand.

She unzips my jacket and pulls open my shirt, running her hands over my chest, combined with the slight chill I ripple in goosebumps. She leans back in, and our bodies combine to keep each other warm as we kiss.

As we embrace, I insert a second finger into the warmth of her pussy.  Slowly massaging the slightly wrinkled texture of the front wall of her vagina, feeling her juices flow between my fingers.  Again she grinds down, taking my fingers deeper, towards the smoothness of her g-spot.  I withdraw and move my fingers upwards, parting her labia once again.

Finding her swollen clit, I rub over it with both fingers, letting it flick between, squeezing and stroking, taking her nuanced movements as a guide to what she wants.


She moves her attention to my trousers, unfastening my belt and button fly, pushing open the waistband, and releasing my growing cock like a jack-in-the-box.


My trousers fall to the floor, the cold air on my bottom bringing me back to reality. Shit, there are actual people walking their actual dogs in the actual field just there.

This realisation causes me to cease movement and stiffen, a fact that is not lost on my true love.  Seizing the initiative, she grabs my cock, and pulls me into her again. “Don’t worry about them”.

She turned away from me, cock still in hand.  Leaning against the wall with the other arm, and tugging me towards her again, arching her back, she stuck her arse out and slowly guided my cock into her pussy.

Now that we were connected only at the waist, the December air bit at my balls, tightening towards my body, the hairs on my chest and neck standing up in the chill.  I looked over my shoulder, and could clearly see the outside world.

The sound of cars passing by was a dull rumble, dogs barked in the distance.  We hadn’t been seen yet, but that didn’t mean we wouldn’t.  This realisation sent butterflies dancing across my chest.  The cold of the air, the warmth of my true loves pussy and the nervous excitement combining to give a heady adrenaline rush.


With that I grabbed my true love’s waist and thrust my cock deep into her.  Pushing her further towards the wall with the thrust.  She responds by pushing back onto my cock. I draw my cock out, slowly, until just the glans is inside her.  Then again I thrust forward, the underside of my cock rubbing the area of her vagina my fingers had previously played over.


I repeat, slowly pulling back, holding her hips so I can watch my cock appear between her butt cheeks, and again I thrust forward.  My balls swing and slap her vulva.  I repeat, quickening the tempo.

As the thrusts get more frequent, I find myself pulling her onto me just as much as I am thrusting my cock into her.  She looks over her shoulder at me, her face flushed with enjoyment.  I continue to pound my cock into her pussy, each thrust giving a slapping sound.  The basque has rode up and I can now see her arse in all its voluptuous glory

The fucking is becoming noisier, I am grunting, she is moaning, the slapping of my balls and the squelching of our combined juices.  I’m sure someone must be able to hear us, and I keep nervously glancing over at the open field.


But no one comes over, and the nervousness begins to wane.

With this I get ever braver, keeping one hand on her hip, I raise the other to slap her rounded rump.  As I thrust, I land my palm hard on her buttock, a sharp slap sound resonates amongst the rafters of the mill.  My true love lets out a stifled yelp.

I repeat, slapping with every other thrust.

I’m building up quite a rhythm, my true love’s bum becoming reddened with the repeated slaps.  Her groaning becoming ever more intense.  My cock is buzzing from the sensations of rubbing that ridged area in her vaginal wall with every thrust.


With the pleasure building, the sensations taking us both closer to the end goal, I grab back hold of her waist and pull her onto my cock, thrusting shallow but fast and hard.  Our bodies rock as a single entity.  My movements echoed by hers.

Her breathing changes, she is panting, looking back over her shoulder at me again, I watch as she closes her eyes and bites her lip, her head quivering as an orgasm creeps up on her.  The quivering spreads down into her shoulders, and before long her legs are shaking too.


Her pussy tightens around my cock, and with a forceful thrust of my cock her panting turns into a cry of ecstasy. The shriek bounces of the wall, and four blackbirds break from their cover high up in the roof, their wings beating a baritone to my true love’s soprano wail.

The orgasm ripples through her body, her pussy pulsates on my hardness.  In its wake, she slumps against the wall, her arse still stuck out, my cock still buried inside her.  Looking round to see if anyone has heard her, I withdraw my cock and take it in my hand, my tight grip replacing her spent pussy.

Again, no one appears, so I start to stroke my cock.

It doesn’t take long before I feel my own muscle contractions, and with a quick flurry of my hand, I spurt my load up the back of her basque.



On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.


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