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Copyright Oggbashan December 2019
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
This was going to be an entry for the 2019 Winter Holidays contest but I ran out of time after eight other entries.
Our town now has five micro-pubs, each in a former shop premises. They are very basic, serving a small range of craft ales, and making a point of having no juke box, no TV and no one arm bandits. The few customers, the largest can take no more than twenty, are expected to amuse themselves by conversation, and basic games such as dominos and cards. All five have an upright piano used for sing-alongs of folk songs on some Friday and Saturday nights if the customers are willing.
The customers appreciate good beer, well presented, and rarely drink too much. They tend to be substantial citizens in their late thirties and early forties with a few older citizens. Some can only visit when they have child sitters; some are present every evening.
All five micro-pubs had an arrangement with the two craft breweries near our town. They always had stocks of both breweries’ products which could not be sold in the larger public houses that were owned by major breweries. They also sold ‘guest’ beers from other craft breweries, usually only a barrel or two at a time, but the customers enjoyed the variation. The local breweries produced seasonal and limited edition beers some of which were successful and a few of which were awful.
Of course both breweries produced a Christmas ale and this year they had decided to have a major, for them, marketing drive. There would be a Christmas market in the town square on the Saturday before Christmas. Both breweries would erect large marquees as beer tents and serve their Christmas ales at discounted prices. They wanted to involve the five micro-pubs and their customers as well.
I am a regular customer of one of the micro-pubs, The Wooden Barrel. That is run by two sisters, Angie and Moira. One evening I dropped in for a quick half-pint on the way home from the commuting train. I was the only customer and Angie was just ending a phone call. Moira served my drink.
“Tom?” Angie asked “You can play the piano, can’t you?”
“Not very well,” I replied. “Albert is far better, He used to teach it.”
“But Albert isn’t a regular. He only drops in once a fortnight. You’re here several times a week.”
It was true. Since my divorce the micro-pub was my place of refuge and to meet people, otherwise I only interacted with my colleagues at work.
“So, Angie, what do you want?”
“You know the breweries are having beer tents at the Christmas Fair?”
“Yes. So what?”
“The local churches are arranging a carol singing event at nine pm but most of the rest of the market will end at six in the evening. The brewers are worried that there will be a dead time between six and nine with very few people there so they have asked the micro-pubs to help. They are offering a free pack of four Christmas ales each – that’s eight, for every Micro-pub regular who takes a part in a crawl around all five, singing carols at each venue before going to the beer tents to sing some more. But we need a piano-player here that evening, which is why I thought of you, Tom.”
“Um. But I am very rusty, Angie. It would take me hours of practice before I could play even basic carols adequately. Even eight bottles of Christmas ale are not a sufficient reward for many hours alone at a piano trying to become competent again.”
“But you have used our piano, Tom.”
“Yes, but I only know the top lines of about three folk songs played with one hand when no one notices my incompetence, Angie. I last had piano lessons about twenty years ago and I only ever reached Stage 3. I’m not as good as that now.”
“What would it take to make you confident to play basic carols for an hour, Tom?”
“Several lessons with a piano teacher, an hour of practice each day for a month or more, at least. That’s a lot of effort from me, and I wouldn’t be able to come here most evenings. I’d be practising too hard. It’s a big ask, and I’m not even sure it will work.”
“Um. The free Christmas ale would not be enough incentive, would it?”
“No. I could buy that for less than the cost of one piano lesson.”
“Nor free beer here?”
“Again, no. I don’t drink that much. Two pints is my absolute limit. I come to savour the different brews and for the company, including you two.”
“Our company? Moira and I know you like us, Tom, ataşehir escort bayan and you would help if you could, but we are asking a lot. Maybe…”
Angie looked at Moira who nodded.
“OK? Moira?” Moira nodded again.
“We will make an offer that you might find worth your effort and cost.”
I couldn’t see what they could offer that might be worth hours of my time and possibly hundreds of pounds for piano lessons.
“The event is on the Sunday evening before Christmas. We will be open for lunch time on Christmas Eve and then shut until New Year’s Eve when we open again for a late night session. You live alone, don’t you Tom?”
They knew I did. Rattling around in a large house that was going to be a family home before the divorce.
“What are you doing over Christmas?”
“Not much, Angie. A bit of tidying and decorating and possibly too much TV.”
“OK. Our offer is, if you can play piano here for an hour of carols on that night, you can spend Christmas until the New Year with us two, here, with all meals, including a Christmas Eve supper, a full Christmas dinner on Christmas Day, and have the two of us in bed with you each night.”
I nearly dropped my beer. What they were offering was the stuff of my dreams. Angie and Moira were attractive sisters in their mid thirties, divorced from their layabout husbands, who flirted with the customers who never got anywhere with them. A week with them and in bed with them every night was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes,” Moira said, coming round from behind the bar to join Angie in hugging me.
“We like you, Tom. You are always polite. We cannot see why your wife divorced you…”
“Oh, that. She claimed I neglected her and she sought consolation elsewhere. It was true. I was working very long hours for an employer who didn’t appreciate my efforts and leaving my wife at home playing golf. She met someone at the golf club who had time to give her and things developed from there. Once our marriage broke up I changed employer and reassessed my priorities but it was too late.”
“I wish our husbands had been workaholics instead of layabout good-for-nothings,” Angie said.
“I went too far one way,” I said.
“That’s better than expecting your wife to support you…” Moira said with feeling.
“So, Tom,” Angie said, “Do you accept our offer?”
“I’d be a fool to refuse,” I replied, “but whether I can be good enough? I don’t know. All I can say is I’ll try my best.”
“I’m sure you can,” Angie said. “You’ve got more than two months to improve.”
“OK, ladies. I will ring Albert tonight and get his advice.”
I did. Albert couldn’t give piano lessons himself. His hands were now too arthritic, but he recommended Andrew, a local piano teacher usually training school children, and suggested I had my home piano tuned professionally before I started. He also gave me the contact for the piano tuner. I went to the local charity bookshop and bought a copy of the Oxford Book of Carols and some carol sheet music.
About ten days later I went back into the micro-pub on the way home from work. I hadn’t been since they had asked me to play carols and I was missing the social contact. Again I was the only customer. I had had one piano lesson and about ten hours practice. My hands were hurting from the unaccustomed exercises. I sat down at the piano and played the first few bars of ‘Once in Royal David’s city’, using both hands…
Angie applauded and gave me a kiss. Moira stood behind me to hug me as I played.
“That’s all I know, so far,” I said.
“But that’s a start, and amazing for such a short time,” Angie said. “You have a couple of months yet and then Christmas with us. The other micro-pubs are having more problems finding a competent piano player except one. A regular’s daughter will be back from university where she is studying music. Her Dad has persuaded her but her boyfriend likes craft beer so that might have encouraged her more.”
As I stood up from the piano the two women wrapped themselves around me. I enjoyed that as only the second full embrace I had had since my wife left me. Angie pulled me a pint of the latest guest beer. I had some difficulty drinking it because Moira was on my lap and pressing herself against me.
A month later I dropped in at the micro-pub on the way home from work. I had been missing the company, the conversation and more importantly Angie and Moira. As usual, when I stopped at the micro-pub on my walk from the train station, I was the only customer. My welcome from the two women made up for the nights I had been missing for piano lessons escort kadıköy and practice. I had barely crossed the threshold before I had two women hugging and kissing me.
I had to disentangle myself before I could sit down at the piano. Since my last visit it had been tuned and overhauled. The key action, which had been uneven, was now perfectly balanced and all the notes worked, which they hadn’t. I played eight carols with both hands. After the first few bars the back of my head was resting in Moira’s cleavage. At the end of my recital I swung around on the piano stool. Angie’s cleavage met my face and I was clamped between two pairs of breasts.
The two of them pulled me on to the two-seat settee that faced the open fire. That settee was popular with newly married or engaged couples but the micro-pub was empty. The fire had only been lit about a quarter of hour ago and was still struggling into life, unlike Angie and Moira. Moira straddled my legs as Angie pulled my head into her cleavage.
Many times, particularly in the last couple of weeks, as I sat in my empty house practising at the piano, I was worried that I was committing a considerable amount of effort and that Moira and Angie would either have forgotten their offer or be regretting making it. It had been so long since they had made it. I was also concerned that they and I hadn’t made love to anyone for years, and that had been to our spouses. How we could perform as a threesome? I didn’t know and I suspected they didn’t either. I was thinking they might want to forget the deal. Their reception tonight dispelled those fears. They wanted me. Their bodies and lips reassured me. Christmas still seemed a long way away but if they wanted me as much as their kisses seemed to show, it would be worth the wait. Whether I could satisfy them? I didn’t know.
On the Monday of the week that the Christmas Fair would be on the Saturday I called in at the micro-pub again on the way home from my commuter train. There were no other customers that early and only Angie was in the bar. Her reception calmed my fears. She hugged me and kissed me before pulling a pint of my favourite beer. I sat at the piano to play Christmas Carols. As soon as I was halfway through the first one Moira came into the bar and pressed her breasts either side of my head. I continued playing, very aware that I had soft warm breasts cradling my head.
I played another half-dozen carols, pleased that I could, but I still found it an effort to play for so long.
“That’s brilliant, Tom,” Angie said. “We had doubts that you could do so much, but not now.”
“It wasn’t easy, Angie,” I said. “My hands and the muscles have hurt for hours after each practice session. Even now an hour of playing Carols will be a real effort for me but I am sure I can do it – once.”
“Once?” Moira queried. “Our regulars would like a trial run on the Friday night. Could you do that as well?”
“Um. Maybe, Moira, but possibly not as long as an hour if you want me to perform on Saturday evening as well. Would half an hour on Friday be enough?”
“Yes, Tom. Half an hour would be ample. We want you to perform not just for the Carol event on Saturday evening but we need a performance from you in bed that night as well. Perhaps you need practice for that as well?”
I swung around on the piano stool so that I was facing Moira. She stepped back a foot or so. My face was still at the level of her breasts but I was able to look up at her face.
“Well, yes, I am worried that I might disappoint you two. I haven’t for at least five years.”
“Five years? You will need practice, Tom,” Angie said from behind her sister.
“What are you doing this evening, Tom?” Angie asked.
“Going home, changing out of my office suit, and microwaving a meal, Angie. Why?”
“Could you wait until ten o’clock to eat your evening meal, Tom?” Angie asked.
“I suppose so…”
“If you come back just before we close at ten we will give you a meal, and then some practice that doesn’t involve a piano, Tom.”
“We need practice, too, Tom,” Moira said. “It isn’t five years but several years since…”
I didn’t hear what else she said as Angie had pulled my head into her cleavage.
Of course I accepted their offer. I was back in the micro-pub at a quarter to ten. I had shaved, showered and changed. I brought a small bag with overnight things including some condoms. The meal was much better than the microwaved stuff I usually had but I barely noticed. I was nervous. So were they. Their conversation was stilted over the meal. It appeared that all three of us needed practice and were unsure how we should relate to each other. There was an awkward pause after maltepe escort they had loaded the dishwasher until Moira grabbed my hand.
“Come on Angie,” Moira said. “We need practice. So does Tom. Thinking makes it worse. We should just do it.”
“When we are ready…” Angie retorted.
We went into their spare bedroom, sometimes used by their parents. A king size bed was prominent.
“Shoes off, Tom,” Angie ordered. “We’ll do the rest.”
They did. The two of them stripped me as I tried, unsuccessfully to strip them. Angie pulled me on to the bed as Moira undressed. Moira snuggled up to me as Angie stripped. Moira pushed me on to my back and straddled me with her breasts swaying above me. Soon Angie’s bare body was behind me with my head clasped between her legs. She turned around and presented my lips with a bare sex inches away from my mouth. I bent upwards as she came down, licking before inserting my tongue. As I started to arouse Angie, Moira fed my erection inside her. They started rocking on me. My mouth and tongue worked hard. I found one of Angie’s breasts with a hand and used the other on one of Moira’s. I wasn’t making love to them; they were using my body to arouse themselves.
I was relieved. I’m not as young as I was and had been worried that I couldn’t satisfy two younger women. They seemed happy with what they were getting and I was enjoying their actions. Moira reached an orgasm first and as she did so, Angie started too. Soon they were moaning and almost screaming above me yet I still had some way to go. It was another quarter of an hour before Moira clamped herself around me and Angie pushed down. That finished me. Shortly afterwards I had a naked woman resting on each shoulder. They seemed as satisfied as I was.
They repeated the process twice more that night. When I woke up Angie’s breast was against my face and Moira’s body was cuddling my back. Moira got up to make breakfast as Angie rubbed her breasts against my face. That was the sort of wake-up call I could enjoy.
“Sorry, Tom,” Angie said. “We used you.”
“Am I objecting?” I replied. “I was worried I couldn’t satisfy both of you. Letting you do the hard work made the night wonderful.”
Angie kissed me.
“You think so?”
“No, Angie, I know so. You two were great and sympathetic to the limitations of an older out of practice man. I could last for many nights like that but if I had to ride you two I might disappoint.”
“Then you will be in our bed Friday and Saturday nights?”
“Of course. How could I refuse?”
And I was. On Friday evening I played carols at the piano for half an hour while the regulars sung. Even after I stopped playing they kept singing until the micro-pub closed. I stayed for an evening meal and for the sisters to use me all night. I enjoyed both the meal and their love making.
On the Saturday evening I played for an hour and a half to an overfilled micro-pub before everyone else left for the main event. I, Angie, and Moira followed about twenty minutes later. As I entered a large marquee the two women were wrapped around me. I was bought more pints than I could drink from fellow regulars who recognised how much work I had done to be able to play carols for so long. No one seemed upset that my main reward was from Angie and Moira.
We stayed until after the churches’ carol event before we returned to the now closed micro-pub for an evening meal and a night in bed. Because of the pints of beer I had been bought initially I couldn’t perform as well but by the morning and frequent visits to the toilet, Angie and Moira were satisfied that they had used me sufficiently.
Over the rest of the Christmas break I stayed with Angie and Moira, eating meals that seemed wonderful compared with my own skimped microwaved dishes, and being loved all night. Towards the end of the break I was able to take a more active role, riding both sisters at least once each night. Whether it was because I was more practiced, or better fed, of had drunk less beer, I don’t know. But Angie and Moira appreciated my efforts in bed and insisted that I spent at least every Saturday night with them.
By the Spring I was at the micro-pub four evenings a week and my piano playing was much improved. I had taken several examinations and was still progressing. My general health and fitness were much better. Whether it was the food or the exercise, or both, I don’t know, but Angie and Moira appreciated my increased stamina. I had a dilemma. I wanted to marry them but I couldn’t marry both. I had discussed it with them and they told me they both wanted me and were happy to continue as a threesome.
I took both of them on a cruise, booking adjoining suites although we only used the double bed in one.
Next Christmas I will have no problem in playing Christmas Carols for an hour, and satisfying Angie and Moira every night from Christmas Eve up to New Year’s Eve. Wassailing at the Micro-pub has changed my life.
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