Picking Apples with Penelope

continued from The Pool, The Orchard & the Pony

As I pulled up in my car at my aunt Susan’s, I wondered what the afternoon had in store for me. Ever since Susan had tricked me into becoming her ponyboy, the previous summer, I had been to her house several times and, more often than, not, had to prance around the orchard in the nude while pulling Susan in a little cart behind me. But she had been quite kind, really; there had been no summons during the cold of winter.

Now it was late summer again. When Susan had phoned, all that she said was that she had a treat in store for me and that her daughter Chloe’s friend Penelope had been staying with her for a few days. Penelope, apparently, needed teaching a good lesson, and I was to help Susan administer it.

I pulled up at the front of the house, noting an unfamiliar Nissan Qashqai parked near the front door. Expensive-looking, and nearly new; clearly Penelope wasn’t short of money. As it was a hot day at the end of summer, I walked around the end of the house to the poolside, expecting to find Susan and her guest in or near the pool. I was right.

Susan and the girl were both reclining on sun-loungers, Susan dressed as usual in working blouse and shorts. Several years older than me, she had a good figure but a businesslike air which she rarely let slip. The young woman next to her was wearing a billowy, brightly-coloured bodywrap, which effectively hid her figure. She was clearly wearing a bikini underneath; I could see the neck-ties. She had flip-flops on her feet. It was her face, though, that drew my attention. She had big eyes, a small nose, and ginger hair cut in a short bob that showed off her features to their best advantage. Her skin was delicate and pale.

“Hi Craig,” said Susan. “Glad you could make it. This is Penelope’s last afternoon with us before she goes back home. Chloe has had to go into town but Penelope has agreed to help us pick some apples before she sets off.”

I nodded. Susan, as far as I knew, had kept my ponyboy status secret from her daughter – so none of her friends would know about it.

“Hi Penny,” I said, a bit tentatively. “Haven’t you been for a swim?”

The girl shrugged disdainfully. “It’s Penelope, if you don’t mind, young man,” she said. “And for your information I have been for a swim. But your aunt told me what a lecherous young man you are, so I’ve put this wrap on. After all,” she added with a laugh, “people have offered me money to show off my body and pose for photos in the papers. Needless to say I refused.”

Whew, I thought to myself, she certainly knows how to put a man down. I had to admit she looked really pretty, though.

“Well, now you’re here, Craig,” said Susan, “we’d better get started.” She led the way to the house to pick up a couple of baskets; Penelope stayed where she was.

“What do you think?” asked Susan as soon as we were out of earshot.

“Very nice to look at, but she seems to think she’s superior, somehow,” I replied.

“She’s been like that all week. Frankly, she’s been driving me up the wall, and it’s because of that that I asked Chloe to go into town to pick up some bits and pieces. She knows Penelope’s going home today and won’t expect her still to be here when she gets back. As for you,” she added, archly, “just do exactly what I tell you. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

Susan and I fetched the baskets, went back to Penelope, who eventually consented to getting up, and the three of us made our way over to the barn. The cart – my cart, as I had started to regard it – was in its usual place, chocked to the middle of the floor. The place smelt agreeably of straw, and light poured in through the skylights in the roof.

“You sure you’re OK to pull the cart?” said Susan to Penelope. She turned to me. “Since this young lady has been enjoying my hospitality all week, I thought it was only fair that she should do some of the donkey-work… so to speak,” she added.

“All right, all right,” said Penelope, walking over to the cart. “I suppose you pull it by these shafts,” she said, running her fingers up and down the wood. “What are these clips and straps for?”

“They make it more comfortable to pull,” explained Susan. “You just stand there, while we do them up – you take the left side, please Craig – they distribute the weight of the cart more evenly. We don’t want anyone getting blisters.”

Surprisingly, Penelope just shrugged her shoulders, and allowed us to do up the straps without demur. She did frown just a little; but in a few seconds, her arms were bound firmly to the shafts, and she was trapped!

“Better put some sun-block on,” said Susan. “Catch!” she added, tossing me a bottle.

“I can do that for myself,” said Penelope haughtily. “Just undo these straps, will you.”

Susan sighed and shook her head. “If you think we’re going to all the trouble of undoing them and doing them back up again, you’ve got another think coming,” she said. “Just grin and bear it.”

So I had the task off rubbing the sun cream onto Penelope’s bare white shoulders, which were smooth and yielding to the touch. “I’m not sure I want you touching me,” she protested. “What do you think you’re up to, you…. you…” she seemed to be struggling to find the right words.

“Help me with this, please, Craig,” interrupted Susan, taking down the bit-gag from the wall.

“What are you doing?” exclaimed Penelope with alarm. “You’re not putting that thing in my mouth, are you… nggh! HRRHH!” Quickly, Susan and I fastened the gag into her mouth and tied the straps tightly behind our pony’s head. She didn’t like it at all, and struggled violently, but had no strength to defy the two of us. Especially with her arms bound to the shafts of the cart, which was still chocked to the ground.

“Now just listen to me,” said Susan sternly. “I’m not prepared to put up with any more of your back-chat. There’s to be no more talking. Hence the gag. You’ll notice that it has reins. They are there so that when Craig is sitting on the cart he will be able to guide you. Penelope’s eyes goggled.

“I’ve put up with you all week, so now on your last afternoon here you can do what I say for a change. Obey, and it will soon be over, and you can go home. Disobey…” she took a riding crop from the wall and tapped it ominously against her thigh, “then things won’t be so pleasant. Understand?”

“Hrrrnnff”. Penelope, unable to make sense with speech, nodded.

“Go on, then, Craig” said Susan. “Get on with doing her feet and legs. And you’d better get rid of those flip-flops; out in the orchard they might make her slip.”

Eagerly, I knelt and took Penelope’s flip-flops off her. She had gorgeous feet, milk white like the rest of her skin, with high arches and deep red nail varnish on her toes to match her fingernails. I applied the sun lotion with relish, but of course her wrap got in the way of her lower legs.

“Hmmm,” said Susan. “You can’t do that properly while she’s wearing that wrap. I’ll take it off her.” And, much to Penelope’s alarm, Susan reached behind our captive’s back, undid the clasp, and swept the wrap off her.

“Nnggh!” Penelope jumped, but with the cart still chocked to the floor, she was powerless to resist. Without the wrap I could see she had a lovely body, with a very slim waist which accentuated the curves of her breasts and hips, which were highlighted by her bikini. Steadily, I worked the sun lotion into her lower legs, and then went to work above the knee.

“Steady, Craig, you naughty boy,” said Susan. “You’re not to touch her too high up. She might find that a bit too exciting… and so might you. Now then, you do her back, and I’ll do her tummy.”

Penelope squirmed around wonderfully as I rubbed the lotion into her back. Susan, however, wasn’t satisfied. “Tsk, tsk,” she tutted. “You can’t do it properly with those strings in the way. Let me undo them for you.”

Suddenly, Penelope stood stock still; even I held my breath as Susan gently undid the strings at the back of Penelope’s bikini top. But it didn’t fall off, the material clinging to her breasts – which – owing to the way her arms were strapped to the shafts of the cart, were angled slightly upwards.

“Neck, too,” said Susan, carefully untying the top strings and laying them straight down Penelope’s shoulder-blades.

Delicately, I rubbed lotion into Penelope’s back and neck, neither of us daring to make a sudden movement – until Susan gave our pony a vigorous slap on the bottom. Penelope jumped, and so did the bikini top, straight on the floor, leaving her small but pointed breasts exposed and defenceless. Penelope blushed, breathing deeply around her gag.

“You naughty girl,” exclaimed Susan, “revealing yourself like that. Oh well, if you insist in going around topless I suppose we had better use some more of that lotion. Craig, you take the left side, I’ll take the right.”

“NNgGGGHHH,” spluttered Penelope as I carefully rubbed the lotion onto her left breast while Susan, as she had said, took the other side. I caressed and kneaded the flesh gently, even giving the girl’s nipple a slight tug, just to see if I could make it stand out further than the other one… and I think I succeeded! Soon, we had finished, though, and we stepped back to admire our handiwork.

“Almost time to go outside, then,” said Susan. Penelope shook her head vigorously.

“What? Don’t you want to go outside topless?” Again the girl shook her head. Susan sighed. “Oh, alright then,” she said. “If I don’t make you go outside topless, do you promise to be a good girl and do what you’re told?” This time, Penelope nodded.

Susan smiled. “Then you can have your wish,” she said, adding a chuckle. “You can go in the nude instead!” and without further ado she strode forward, tugged at the strings to Penelope’s bikini bottom, and whipped the garment away to leave our pony completely naked, her gorgeous body gleaming palely in the sunbeams streaming through the skylight. What a sight! Pert, upturned breasts, a ginger bush neatly trimmed into a heart-shape, and a blush spreading from her neck down on to her torso.

Susan stepped forward again. “You do Penelope’s bum, please, Craig. I wouldn’t trust you to do the front,” she murmured, almost as an afterthought.

Penelope had the most gorgeous backside. She struggled, squirmed, whined and dribbled, but was totally unable to stop me from kneading her small but prominent buttocks. When my finger accidentally slipped into the cleft at the top of her cheeks, she yelled into her gag and shivered deliciously; but a sharp glance from Susan told me I’d better stop.

“Right, Craig” said Susan, unchocking the cart from the ground. “You’d better get on with it. Remember, I don’t want you touching her with your hands at all, or talking to her except to give instructions. If you have to give her correction, use this riding crop.” She smiled. “I know you won’t be too rough. When you’ve filled up these two baskets with apples, come round to the front.” And she walked out of the barn, leaving me to climb aboard the cart and direct our pony outside.

As she had indicated, Penelope was clearly a bit scared of being seen in the nude outside. But after a while she seemed to get used to it – a bit. I did my best to encourage her raise her thighs to the horizontal with each stride, but that was pretty tiring while pulling the cart, so I didn’t press her too hard. The only real problem we had was with the row of trees nearest the road. The pony seemed worried that she would be visible over the hedge, but it was at least five feet high and badly in need of trimming, so she was quite safe really. Unless a double-decker bus should come by…

After a while I had filled two panniers with apples, and as directed drove pony and cart back to the front of the house. Hopping out of the seat, I chocked the cart to the ground. Susan was there, using a hose to water the flower bed next to the house. To my delight, she adjusted the spray head and turned the hose on Penelope, drenching our pony with a spray of icy-cold, clean water droplets.

“AAARRGGghh….hrhh” gasped the pony around her gag.

“I thought she needed to wash down after all that exertion,” explained Susan, while Penelope strained this way and that but, nipples sticking out like organ-stops, totally unable to evade the water jet.

Eventually, Susan decided that enough was enough, and turned off the hose. She walked over to the cart with a small padlock in her hand, reached up to the pony’s neck, and snapped the lock shut holding the straps on Penelope’s gag in place. Then she unclipped the reins and took them off before starting work undoing the straps that held our pony’s arms to the cart.

“As I said earlier, this is your last afternoon with us,” said Susan. “But I’ve had enough of your annoying voice, so you can keep that gag on until you leave the premises. Then you work out how to get it off.“

“I’ve packed your bags for you and loaded them into the car,” she added. Penelope, now free of the cart, dashed across the tarmac, but found that the driver’s door was locked! She shivered and half-turned to face us, one arm across her breasts, the other hiding her pubic region.

“I noticed that while you were with Craig, you were a bit shy of the road,” continued Susan. “Well, for your final activity, we’ll see if you can get over that hang-up. You’re free to go and get the keys. They’re on a tree-stump in that little copse on the opposite site of the road.”

Penelope didn’t know what to do, and I think even if she wasn’t stuck with the gag she’d have been speechless. Eventually, doing her best to restore her modesty with her arms and hands, she settled for picking her way up the drive, doing her best to avoid hurting her beautiful bare feet on the gravel.

“Come with me,” commanded Susan as Penelope receded from sight. After thoughtfully turning the hose on again and mounting it on its stand so that it played a fountain of water all over Penelope’s car, she grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the house.

We went through the front door and up the stairs two at a time; Susan was clearly in a hurry. But I didn’t have to wonder what she had in mind for very long. She led me to the front bedroom, overlooking the parking spaces by the front door where Penelope’s Qashqai stood being gently sprayed by the hose. “Stand there and look out the window. And raise your hands so that I can tie your wrists to the ends of the curtain-rail. Remember, I’m still in charge!”

I was content to obey, revelling in the touch as Susan bound my wrists tightly and then started to undo my shirt buttons, bottom up, running her hands across my belly and chest.

I knew what would come next; she undid my belt and zip before pulling my jeans and underwear down to below my knees. She then started to caress my hardening cock, running her fingers up and down the shaft, just as Penelope came back into view.

Still nude and gagged, the girl carefully made her way down the drive, the sight of her gorgeous body sending my libido into overdrive. She started with dismay as she saw the hose trained on her car, and looked up in horror – just in time to see my orgasm explode all over the inside of the windowpane.

Plucking up courage, she quickly opened the door of the car, turned the ignition, and drove off with a squeal of tyres, the dust rising behind them.

“Whew”, I said, after a long silence. “That was good. Thank you, Susan.”

“Yes. Well, don’t get too familiar,” she replied. “Remember, you’ve got to clean up all this mess yet.”

“Aren’t you worried she’ll report us to the Police?”

“It would be her word against ours. Besides, I think she quite enjoyed it really. Not as much as you, though.” She gave me a little squeeze. “A woman can tell these things. Did you notice her blush? And anyway, her adventures aren’t over yet.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, you remember I told her that I’d packed all her clothes for her and put them in the car?” I nodded. “That was true, but for good measure I locked all her clothes in her suitcase. The key is still on the kitchen table. So dear Penelope is going to have to find some clothes from somewhere unless she really wants to explain everything to her father when she gets home.”

end

 

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09.10.12