Bab 646: JACK AND THE BEANSTALK
On my job application I hummed and hawed over my curriculum vitae. I'd filled in all the mundane stuff about education, qualifications and that, but I knew these people were interested in whether I could put myself out there, stand up and be counted, not be afraid to make a fool of myself in front of others.
So, after 'stage backdrop design assistant', I wrote 'back end of a cow'.
Then I clicked on 'send', shrugged to myself and thought, well, I probably won't hear from them again.
---------------------------
When Mum said she was going to show me her costume for this year's pantomime show I had trouble containing my enthusiasm. This was because I still had vivid memories of last year's outfit where she'd played, among other non-speaking parts requiring a quick change of costume, a belly-dancer in the local repertory's slapstick version of Aladdin. For a bit-player, her performance had certainly impressed, and the lead actor admitted later he'd almost forgotten his lines while trying to control his hard-on. In rehearsals, she'd played it straight, but, come the show, it was almost as though she was giving the poor Genie a lap-dance. Mum certainly knew where her talents lay.
So this year, her reward for that performance was...
My jaw dropped.
"Well, Mikey?" asked Mum.
Her voice was a bit muffled, since her head was covered with the rolling eyes, the lolling tongue, and the misaligned horns of a black and white cow. Her legs were encased in pants made from the same colour, held up by braces, ending in oversized hooves at the bottom.
At that moment, Dad came downstairs, holding a long, tufted tail over his arm as you would a handbag, and sporting huge udders dangling from around his waist.
"I feel a right pillock."
"So you should, Dad." It was hard to control my laughter, so I didn't.
But this was part of life in my family. I'd been brought up to appreciate the way Mum eagerly took part in every production of our local am-dram society and succeeded in dragging my ineffectually complaining Dad along with her. Her enthusiasm was so infectious that even I was drafted in with my do-it-yourself talents to help with building the scenery. What she lacked in stage skills was made up for by her unwavering commitment. No part was too small, and I guess you could say that playing the pantomime cow in this season's production of 'Jack and the Beanstalk' might be considered a small part.
"So, how does this," I indicated the joining of the two of them by bringing my index fingers together, "work then?"
"It's fairly easy," said Dad, as though taking me through a particularly difficult algebraic equation, "Your mum stands more or less upright as the front of the cow, while I bend over, holding her at the waist, and act as the back half..."
He showed me by bending over, grabbing hold of Mum around her middle and resting his head on the upper edge of her ass. He jutted his own ass backwards, flicking it to make his tail swish.
"...then we just have to co-ordinate leg movements and away we go."
"Umm, okay, but doesn't it offend your masculinity that you've got to be the one with the..." I mimed milking a cow.
"I saw that," said Mum.
I wondered how she saw it through that head, but said nothing.
"I'm offended that you should impugn your father's artistic integrity...besides which, it's totally sexist."
We all laughed. "Yeah Mum, you're right. It's Dad wears the udders in this house. And, Dad? You wear them so well."
He whipped me one with his tail.
When we were all ready, we piled into the car and I drove us across town to the theatre. This was to be their first rehearsal at the venue where I'd already been kept busy for a few weeks now helping to construct the backdrop. While we drove, Mum kept her cow's head on just for a laugh and we drew some remarkable double-takes from other drivers along the way.
"I've got to get used to looking out through this fine mesh by the nostrils - this thing's not really constructed very well at all, it's so clumsy...and all these buttons and things make it difficult to get out of when I've got to change costume."
"Oh," I looked round hopefully at my bovine passenger, "you're playing other things as well...?"
"Yeah, I'm also 'second buxom village wench', and after Jack climbs up to the giant's lair I'm in a cage in a bikini waiting to be prepared as dessert for the Giant's lunch. I've got a feeling I might be ladled with chocolate sauce for that one since I won't have to change costume again. The director mentioned something about us acting out some kind of a wrestling match in jelly."
My mind, not the car, went into overdrive.
When we got to the theatre we went our separate ways - me to the scaffolding of a half-erected giant beanstalk, while Mum and Dad joined the group of actors and director in a semi-circle of chairs to discuss the performance.
From my viewpoint up at the top I was able to survey most of the action down below. There were dressing rooms for the main actors, but those bit-players who had to perform quick costume changes in between scenes had to do so simply behind any convenient bit of scenery available. For example, Jack's mother's house was obviously not actually a house, but rather just three strategically arranged rectangles of plywood serving the purpose of a façade. So when the actresses, my Mum included, chose a hidden place to change, they did so behind the walls of the house. The house without a ceiling. Open to the view of anyone sitting on a giant beanstalk. Like me...
But amongst actors, even amateur actors, there's no room for embarrassment when shucking off their costume to replace it with another, because while you might have only a minute or so to get ready for the following scene, the rest of the cast are working to their own similar time restraints as well.
And this is what seemed to be bothering our autocratic director today. He was shouting at the cast in general, while waving his arms around, that the action must flow smoothly, no awkward pauses between scenes. So it was to my good fortune that he insisted on going over the scene changes several times, holding a stopwatch to eliminate wasted seconds during the changeovers. I took a timeout on my perch to sit and marvel at how the four bit-playing ladies, my mum among them, would run behind the scenery, lift their dresses, unzip their skirts and, ooh, shake off their bras and be practically naked for a few wonderful seconds before pulling on their next costumes, straightening themselves out and jumping back onto the stage to perform some version of a hayseed Can-Can. I just loved the theatre...
Our director, Bernard, seemed to be having a few problems though with Daisy, the cow.
"Ellen, dear," He called everyone 'dear', "we've still got to shave a couple of seconds off that costume change into the cow. Now I know that's difficult for you because you're just coming on after the busty wench scene, but perhaps you and David can help one another out there...mmm?"
It was not a question, it was a command.
"...and the two of you, I want to see a bit more action from the cow. Remember we're playing it for laughs. A little skip from the hind legs and a jump and a wiggle won't go amiss. Let's take it from where Jack's leading you downstage along the road to market shall we..?"
So Jack entered, stage-left, lamenting the fact he had to take his beloved dear old Daisy to market, while Daisy for her part made a game struggle against the rope, even pulling Jack back over onto his backside which got a few laughs. She stopped to nibble some grass here, listen to the twittering of the birds there, and skip to a tune that was being played by the roadside over there...
"More lively, Daisy, try doing some sort of jig, you're a happy old cow..!"
It was their first attempt at this, so there were no markings onstage as to where exactly they should perform their impromptu dance. So, to the urging of, "More lively, get into the rhythm..!" Mum swung her front round, Dad followed suit behind her and promptly dropped off the stage and into the orchestra pit.
All action stopped at that point, with the ridiculous sight of the front half a cow looking behind her in surprise, others peering down from the stage into the depths, and yet others who were taking a break leaning forwards from the stall seats to get a better look.
Then a load groan came from below. People, including myself, quickly clambered down to Dad who was lying in a grotesque position on the floor. It was already obvious from the way he was lying there prone that at the very least he'd broken his leg. While an ambulance was called and while the director fretted, and while Mum, having taken off the head, leant over him, her face full of concern, black humour was already making its way to the surface.
"Maybe we should call the vet...?"
"...a good piece of sirloin for supper..."
"I think we should put Daisy out of her misery. Anyone got a shotgun?"
Mum and I escorted the paramedics and the stretcher out to the ambulance and, since I wasn't involved in the rehearsals as such, it was decided I'd accompany Dad to the hospital.
After a couple of hours of X-rays, discovering that as well as a multiple fracture of his leg he'd managed to break his arm as well, and after making sure he was comfortably tucked up in a ward bed, I made my way back to the theatre.
I found that rehearsals had just finished for the day and Ellen and Bernard were left sitting huddled in urgent, whispered conversation, centre-stage. I'd already phoned ahead to inform them of Dad's condition, so, hurrying towards me, Bernard left out the small-talk and got straight down to business.
"Michael, dear, I'm so awfully sorry about David and all that, but you must realize this has put us into rather a quandary regarding the part of Daisy the cow, and I'm afraid time is very much of the essence. We've got a couple of understudies, you understand, but they're for the main parts of Jack and the giant. We've got no understudy for the part of Daisy. So...we were just wondering, Ellen and I..."
I glanced behind him to where Mum was anxiously chewing at her thumbnail, looking at me imploringly. I knew how much this meant to her.
"So you want me to replace Dad in the cow?"
"Well, you know all the scenes, and with a bit of practice at home to catch up..."
The two of them were now biting their thumbnails.
"...and it's easier for me to find other help in building the scenery, or, if you might want to do both...maybe...perhaps?"
Bernard raised one eyebrow. Mum raised both.
"Yes, of course I'll do it, I mean, the show must go on and all that...?"
Bernard heaved a sigh of relief and Mum grinned at me widely, tears glistening in her eyes.
"Good. That's very good. Michael dear, you're a trouper, and that's the highest accolade anyone can give. It's the equivalent of a medal for valor. Now I won't keep the two of you, you've got your costumes, so, go..! go...! the curtain is about to rise, applause awaits you! I'll see you both tomorrow at ten sharp..."
Then he made a show of crossing the fingers of both hands and knocking on the wood of every piece of stage scenery he could reach. A bit over-the-top, but, well, actors...
...
We went by the hospital on our way home, but Dad was out for the count, I guess on pain suppressants. A kind nurse assured us that he would be fine but they'd have to keep him in for at least a couple of days since the leg break was not so simple, but that he should be out by the weekend.
A relieved Mum and I drove home. She smiled across at me and stroked my cheek.
"You're an angel. I love you." and she leant across to my seat and planted a kiss on my ear before snuggling closer and wrapping an arm round mine. She rested her head on my shoulder.
"I think your dad did that on purpose though," she giggled.
I looked round at her and found my mouth was in her scented hair.
"He never wanted to do the acting bit anyway; he only did it so I wouldn't keep nagging at him..." She giggled again. "So, can I now call you 'Michael Backend'?" Our family name was Townsend, so it had a certain ring to it.
"Only if I can call you 'Ellen Frontend'..?" I'd just called her by her first name, possibly for the first time ever, but...
"I'd like that." She reached up and kissed my ear again.
I leant over and kissed her hair. She squeezed my arm. We remained like that until I drew the car into our drive and we both got out, each of us pulling part of a cow corpse behind us.
Mum was eager and chatty as she prepared us a light meal, and it was as though she'd completely forgotten her mangled husband lying in the hospital.
Then it was time.
"Let me just freshen up with a shower and we can get down to business..."
"Okay. When you're finished give me a shout and I'll have one as well..."
After my shower I come back downstairs in clean tee-shirt and shorts, to find Mum waiting for me on the sofa...in a bathrobe.
"Okay, Mike, Mister Backend haha, if we're going to do this we're going to have to do it properly, okay?"
"Sure, Mum, I mean, Mrs. Frontend. What happens now?" I went to put on my part of the Daisy suit.
"No, not yet..." She stood up, undid the tie at the front of her robe and slid it off her shoulders and let it fall onto the carpet. She stood there in just her bra and panties. I gawped. They were only semi-opaque, and I could see straight-off the dark outline of the areolae and the press of her nipples against the thin silk fabric of her lacey white bra, the top of her ample breasts bulging tightly over the top.
Down below, her matching panties were equally ineffectual in hiding the dark vertical landing strip of her neatly shaved pubic area. She stood there with a half-smile.
"Take it in, Mikey, get it over with. Don't tell me you've not already had an eyeful, I saw you voyeuring from up there on that beanstalk, don't say you didn't."
Damn! It hadn't been as dark as I'd thought...
"I...I...umm..." I hadn't taken my eyes off her body.
"...and when you're comfortable with your old mum, we'll start rehearsing our part...oh, and by the way, take off your shirt and pants..."
I raised my eyebrows.
"You don't know it yet, but it gets very hot inside that costume, and under the floodlights we'll be sweating like pigs...or cows..."
I took off my shirt and dropped my pants. Mum admired me standing there in just my boxer shorts, my dick semi-hard because of...oh hell...my mum.
The only time I'd taken my eyes off her curvy body was to pull the tee-shirt over my head, and that was only a split-second.
She looked me up and down with a satisfied smile on her face, her gaze flickering only momentarily as it passed over my crotch.
"Mmm, maybe we should have persuaded Bernard to let us play a horse instead..."
I didn't know what she meant by that, but before I had chance to reply, she stepped forward and took both my hands in hers and placed them onto her hips. Her own hands she put round my neck. Her breasts were pressed up against my chest...and my dick was jutting out into her lower belly. Without acknowledging that fact, she kissed me on the nose and said,
"Alright then, your poor, crippled old dad showed you earlier how to position yourself, so..." She released her hold on me and spun round so she was facing away, but with my hands still on her hips. I took in her lovely fragrance. "Okay, Backend, reverse until your head comes down to reach the small of my back..."
I did so and, oh God, as my head came down I saw that her panties were hardly covering the cheeks of her ass and the beginning of her crack was visible a couple of inches above the waistband.
"Okay, you have to rest your head down there, it's important you have good contact so you know what moves I'm going to make and so you can follow me, because you won't be able to see a thing..."
My forehead rested in the small of her back which left my nose to nestle comfortably between the beginning swellings of her cheeks. And my mouth...no!...Mikey, don't you dare stick out your tongue and lick her...!
Her own hands she brought up to her waist to cover mine.
"Alright then, let's try a little trot round the room, shall we? I'll start on my right foot and you on your left, otherwise it'll look, umm, even more strange than it is...maybe close your eyes?"
We did a few successful circuits of the living-room, Mum indicating with the pressure of her hands when she was going to turn left or right. A double press was to stop or go. I did as I was told and really did keep my eyes shut, but doing this only increased the sensations of her perfume and the indescribable pleasure of the rhythm of her ass cheeks against my face. When she stopped abruptly though, my mind was understandably elsewhere, and I fell up against her, almost toppling her. My hands released their hold on her waist and went around to the front to catch her by the stomach and my lower body pressed into her back.
"Umm, sorry..."
"That's okay..."
Her hands covered mine, and for a moment she pressed them into her belly before taking each one and wrapping them tightly round herself so we were standing with no space at all between us. I felt her bottom momentarily push back onto my cock. Then she brought one of her hands up behind her and stroked my cheek.
"Looks like this could be a long evening, Mikey. What say we break open the wine and lighten the mood...?"
I spoke softly into her neck, "Yeah, that'd be great, Mum...Ellen...Mrs. Frontend..."
She laughed and released me and without looking behind, sauntered out of the room, her ass bobbing along hypnotically. I followed her through to the kitchen to find her bending over with her head inside the open door of the fridge. Her pantied ass jutted out behind and I was free for that moment to simply stand there and appreciate its wonderful contours. She wiggled it twice and then straightened up and turned, a bottle of the white in her hand.
She was smiling, and glanced down at the tent in my boxers.
"You voyeur, you..."
She walked across to me. Did her hips always swing so much? And she held the chilled bottle against my protrusion.
"Maybe that'll cool you down a bit...?"
"I...I...I'm sorry, Mum, I can't help it, it's just...Mum, I'm sorry, it's just, you're so lovely, you're gorgeous, you really are, I never realized, you're..."
Mum was standing there with such a warm smile, patiently watching me getting redder in the face and blabbering on, then held one hand behind my neck and drew my face in towards hers. Our lips met and already her tongue was pushing its way urgently into my mouth. I wrapped my arms around her and pushed my whole body up against her wonderfully soft being. She giggled into my mouth as the chilled bottle was pressed tightly between us like an intruding iceberg, and we tottered to one side so she could extract it and place it onto the work-top.
With that hand now free, she brought it back and clasped the length of my rod and a guttural moan escaped her throat. While our tongues excavated one another's mouths, she jerked at my dick through the boxers, but, not satisfied, started to tear them down my legs before pulling at her own panties. My hands came round the back of her and helped in pushing them down over her ass cheeks. I continued to push them down and bent at one leg in front of her in order to loop them off her ankles. My mouth found itself opposite her lower belly. I started to work my way back up again, with the help of her fingers tugging through my hair, my hands enveloping her breasts and my tongue making darting explorations around her navel up to the underside of her bra where I tried vainly to insert it through the extra space offered between the two cups.
But she was having none of this messing around. She yanked me upright by my hair and we were again tightly together, our arms around one another, my dick wedging firmly upright against her belly. She backed herself up towards the table, pulling me along with her.
"I lead, remember...?" My mouth was eagerly exploring the length of her neck so my only sound was some muffled note of agreement.
And then the bottom of her ass was being wedged against the edge of the kitchen table, but I continued to push her and she continued to pull me forward until her back was lying on top of the table and my weight was firmly pinning her down. I felt her legs part. My dick was still firmly up against her belly, so I moved my lower body away until it sprang jauntily free, and on its reverse spring back upwards was already tickling at the entrance to her hot and damp cave. I so wanted to thrust it straight in there and then, but I pulled my face away from hers and observed her as my cockhead slowly parted her lips, made a tentative foray inside but then retreated to the very edge. I still had my reservations even at this very late stage. I mean, after all, she was my... Her eyes had flickered and a smile had started at the edges of her mouth, but when I withdrew slightly, so her smile lessened...so I knew what it was she wanted, and then I was pushing back in again and her smile seemed to widen the further I plumbed her depths. Then it was completely in, even though I was still pushing for that extra centimeter, and my balls bounced against the edge of her ass and that smile spread across the whole width of her face...and that smile was for me and for what we were doing together.
I started to push and pull gently, in and out of her, luxuriating in the hot damp suction that was her cunt, but she didn't want gentle, she was lifting her ass towards me as I pulled out, unable to wait for my next push forward and with the realization of this my thrusts became quicker, harder, more animal-like. I raised my chest away from her and lifted her bum and the backs of her thighs so her ass was up in the air and in that way we mated furiously, her, tipped backwards at a crazy angle on top of the table until we were both screaming, my body was jerking with a life of its own, my cum was spurting hotly into her depths and she was crushing my waist between her thighs as she gave herself delightedly up to her own shrieking orgasm. I'd never cum like this before, with such abandon...and so, it seemed, neither had she.
As I came down from my high, my cock still languishing inside her, her legs now placed back on the floor with her knees swinging open and shut like a swing-door wafting in the breeze, I surveyed my mum lying there with her eyes closed and a broad grin across her face. She stretched her body below me with arms clasped behind her head and arched her back in pleasure so that her breasts thrust themselves upwards. I realized the incongruity of the fact that she was still wearing her bra. I nuzzled my face into it and felt around her back for the clasp which I deftly flicked apart.
"Mmm, you did that very well Mikey, I can see I'm not your first..." The long lashes of her eyes, however, remained shut. She was giving herself over to the sensations.
I didn't reply, I just grinned to myself and gazed down as she brought her hands up and round to my neck so I could draw the straps off her shoulders, and I paused there momentarily in awe as her bosom was exposed to me.
I'd seen it before from up on my perch of course, swinging hugely as she'd performed her quick-change...it occurred to me that maybe she'd done all that that for my benefit? But now the pale breasts lay there relaxed on her ribcage, open to the full inspection of my eyes and hands. I felt their unexpected weight as each hand took charge of its own tit, and each thumb kneaded at the dough of her flesh and caressed around and across her nipples. These were rapidly becoming aroused as they reacted to my touch, and soon they were standing proudly like volcanoes jutting up from the landscape.
The view made my dick involuntarily jerk inside her and she instantly opened her eyes at the sensation. She smiled, and I lifted her head from the table so I could kiss those lips. Her arms and her legs both encircled my back and I lifted her bodily off the table and walked her out of the kitchen and through to the sofa in the living-room, all the time my lips glued to hers and her pussy impaled on my newly hard pole.
As I laid her down we began now to make proper love...the timing of the strokes, the delaying of orgasm until feeling that the partner was also on the verge, the licking, the gnawing, the chewing, the giggles, the snorts, the unselfconsciousness of displaying every aspect of your body to inspection, the cuddling, the caring...
We must have dozed off for a while afterwards because it was late evening when we woke, but we didn't mind. We even resumed our rehearsals, but these now took on a comic turn. We figured that we could now get away with a more daring combination of our bodies inside the cow costume, and this involved Ellen leaning her body further forward and my hands cupping her tits rather than holding on to her hips. Since we were totally naked this inevitably led to me taking her from behind and grinding her ass into the carpet.
Apparently there was also a point in the show where the cow had to lower its head to chew at some grass. Of course, Ellen could have knelt on her knees to do this but, instead, she was determined to show me her flexibility by bending from the waist. This thrust her ass directly into my face and I immediately took my opportunity to push my tongue out and into her pussy, licking along the folds until I came to her clit and swirling my tongue around it. She writhed and squirmed and gasped and with her hands, held her ass out for more. This led to a complete collapse of the cow upon itself, because we were now doing a full dress rehearsal, and what must have looked very odd indeed - the front of a cow with its legs up in the air and splayed, and the back of the cow with its legs kneeling, cushioned by the huge udders, its ass in the air and strange slurping, chomping noises coming from the middle section.
A variation on the theme was our invention of a pantomime Aardvark and a pantomime Camel, but I won't go into those. Suffice it to say that Ellen was very amenable and adaptable and...pliable. And she also extracted a promise from me for us at some point to try all the animals from aardvark and on through to zebra.
Then we fell asleep again in each other's arms on the carpet. It's amazing how comfortable udders are when used as a pillow...
We awoke to the sun gleaming through the windows, took one shocked glance at the clock and were immediately on our feet and rushing up the stairs, me pulling Ellen behind me, into the shower, very tempted to soap each other's parts but with no time at all, rushed out of the shower, dragged on clothes while we were still damp, and raced out to the car.
"It's OK, slow down, we've got time..."
"But we've got to visit Dad in hospital first...!"
"Oh, right, well...speed up then..."
I looked round at her with a crooked grin on my face.
"What? What??...it just slipped my mind, that's all..."
I laughed and stroked through her hair, partly from affection and partly from the fact she'd had no time to comb it before rushing out, and then returned my concentration to the driving.
By the time we reached the hospital we'd already formed a plan, and as we slewed to a halt in the car-park Mum leapt out to go straight up to the ward while I headed for the gift-shop to get, umm, flowers, chocolates, biscuits and a couple of magazines (for Dad) and a hairbrush, sandwiches, coffee, deodorant(!), face-wipes and more biscuits (for ourselves). Then I took the stairs two at a time (it was a hospital after all, you'd wait all day for the lift..!) and strolled nonchalantly into the ward to find a picture of domestic bliss with Mum ensconced in a chair next to Dad's bed, stroking his face, holding his hand and commiserating.
"Hey Dad, lying down on the job again, eh?"
"Yeah, it's a good job if you can get one..."
I reached over and took his other hand, the one heavily encased in plaster, and sat across from Mum. "Here, these are for you. A bit cheesy I know, but..." and I drew out the flowers, the magazines and the chocolates. "No grapes, I'm afraid, maybe tomorrow."
"That'll be fine, thanks. What I could really do with though are some basic toiletries..." He dragged his fingers through his disheveled hair, trying to make some semblance of order. Mum tried to help him. "...like a comb at least..."
I reached into the plastic bag. "Da-daah!" Mum gave me a bemused look as I handed him the hairbrush, but I simply shrugged. "...and, if you turn out to be a really unreliable patient, then da-dah-daah!" I brought out the packet of hand- and face-wipes.
"Ah, those'll be perfect. They let me eat breakfast by myself but half of it ended up all over me and they won't let me out of bed yet..."
I got another bemused look from Mum.
"Anyway, your Mum's told me everything," I nervously glanced across at her. "about how you're going to take over from me and that you're both in a hurry for rehearsals so don't let me keep you, I'll be alright here, they've got some really pretty nurses, I think one or two of 'em would suit you, Mikey...not at the same time, of course..." He laughed.
"Okay then, Dad," I said, standing, "We'll come back in the evening and you can introduce me to a few..." This time Mum's look was accompanied by a smile and a barely noticeable shake of the head. I guess I was already taken for tonight.
We made our departure with a final call to me from Dad to keep my Mum firmly under control and keep a firm grip on her while on stage. I assured him I would, and he shouted, "And remind her who wears the udders in our house!" as the doors swung shut behind us.
We were alone in the lift going down, so we naturally turned into each other's arms and smothered each other in kisses until the jolt of the floor told us the door was about to open.
"Just one more thing..." I threw her the car-keys and ran over to the gift shop where I bought yet another hairbrush and packet of face-wipes from the same assistant. She was about to make some smart-ass remark as she handed me the change but I'd already turned and was on my way out the door.
We made record time over to the theatre, taking in our breakfast of sandwiches and the, by now, lukewarm coffee as we did so, but still managed to arrive ten minutes late.
We didn't think Bernard had noticed because he was arguing some finer point of acting with the giant. But then he turned to us and tapped his watch, "Punctuality, my dears, that's one of the basic guarantees for a successful performance. I'll let it go this time IF you can show me you've been doing your homework? It's out of sequence, but I want to see if we've got all the basics for this scene, so go get made up and we'll start and, remember, disappointment is not on the menu at this stage of the game, okay?" We nodded agreement and in a couple of minutes flat were prepared for our debut. Even Bernard seemed pleasantly surprised.
"Alright then. Jack and Daisy, enter, stage-left." He sat back in his director's chair like Woody Allen and waved us forward.
We played it for all we were worth. We managed to bamboozle Jack up in his own length of rope, we tipped him over with our nose, we tugged, we skipped, we ate grass, we frolicked, I tickled Mum resulting in a wonderful jig any Irishman would have been proud of, and we flopped, Mum on my lap while I secretly caressed her tits, into a sitting posture to show that Daisy was officially now on strike and had no intention of ever going to market.
Applause reached our ears. It was from the whole cast and, more importantly, from Bernard himself. As we parted and Mum removed the head he was already rolling towards us, clapping his hands with real enthusiasm.
"My dears, my dears, that was an Oscar performance...Bravo!"
There were more echoes of 'Encore!' from around the theatre.
Mum had been right, it had been hot in that costume, even rehearsing without the stage lighting, and as we smiled and shook hands and received pats on the back, we felt how much we were drenched in sweat. We gave each other a platonic 'well done' hug in full sight of the crew, and then we went backstage to sit down and recover.
"Phew!" I said, "Well that was good exercise for losing a bit of weight..." I reached across with my finger and wiped away some beads of sweat that had appeared across Mum's cheeks before, for some reason, inserting the finger into my mouth and sucking it. Mum seemed impressed by this. She reached across to me and likewise slid her index finger across my cheek, scooping up the salty liquid and inserting it into her mouth - only, her version was to insert her finger, extract it, insert it yet again and plainly lick around its tip. Then, keeping her mischievous eyes on my face, she reached over and, with the same finger, stroked slowly down the length of my dick through my pants before bringing it back up, re-inserting it into her mouth and sucking, slurping and nibbling at it like a lollipop.
This was one of the most erotic actions I'd ever encountered in my life and the effect on my dick was positively explosive and it threatened to leap out of my pants all by itself, jump on her and have her there and then.
Mum glanced around us to right and left, took me by the hand and led me into the changing room of the eponymous Jack. There was a star on the door, but the only star I could see at that moment was Ellen.
"He won't be back for a while, they're doing the 'Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum' scene and Bernard isn't too happy with it at all. Good old Bernard, haha..." and with no further ado she locked the door, swiveled round to me, knelt down, yanked my shorts to my knees and extracted my dick from my boxers. With only a moment's pause to appreciate its length and thickness, she brought her head forward and simply swallowed it whole. It literally vanished into the depths of her throat. Though it had disappeared from view, the actions of her teeth and tongue and possibly even her gullet told me that it was still very much there. It was being given its own personal Swedish massage, Thai massage and, I don't know, Burmese massage? inside Ellen's mouth.
I was beginning to wonder how she was managing to keep breathing when it suddenly began to make a re-appearance, now slick with Ellen's saliva. She extracted it completely and surveyed my cockhead, turning her head to examine it from different angles. Her tongue snaked out and wormed its way around the knob-end and probed at the slit. At the same time her other hand had crept underneath between my legs and was now supporting and teasing my balls while an extra finger was tentatively exploring around my anus.
Then my dick disappeared once again into the depths of her mouth, only this time it was more temporary because she straightway began jerking her head forwards and backwards like a piston gathering steam. In no time at all her head was a blur of motion and my cum began its inevitable surge up my length. When at the same time she pushed that foraging finger right up inside my ass, it burst out of me like a Texan oil-well. I came and I came into her accepting mouth which was still lunging in and out. I grabbed at her hair and pulled her face hard into my groin. She stayed there as my pulsating jerks filled her mouth and I felt her struggling to gulp down all the quantity of cum that I was spurting into her. But she did swallow it. Every drop. As the waves subsided, her eyes down below lifted to meet my astounded gaze from above and she grinned as she extracted her mouth from my length with a satisfying slurp. She sat back on her haunches and observed her work, then efficiently drew my boxers back up my legs and over my dick, releasing the waistband with a snap, and then tugged my pants back up and fastened the top button. She patted my dick. I simply stood there in awe of her until there was a rattling at the door. Either we'd been in there longer than I thought, or the 'Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum' scene had gone swimmingly. Ellen jumped to her feet and calmly opened the door. A confused 'Jack' stood there.
"Sorry about that, Lionel, but Mikey injured himself a bit during our scene and I had to see to him. He was a bit embarrassed, hope you don't mind?"
"No, of course not. Mi casa es tu casa. Very good scene, by the way, even if you did manage to tip me arse over tit out there. We should polish that up a bit, it was fun and it could be one of the showstoppers. Talking about that, I think we're seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Bernard just complimented us on the 'Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum' scene. A rare event, so I think we're on the home stretch."
"Hey, that's great. You know, this year I'm having such a good time at rehearsals. I don't want it to end..."
Lionel was confused again. "But what about David in hospital?"
"Ah, David, well you know he's not really into acting. He took it a bit too literally when he was told to go 'break a leg'. He told us from his bed that it was kind of a relief to be out of it...a high price to get out of it, haha, but still..."
"Well you've found yourself a good replacement here in Mikey," He turned to me and clapped me on the shoulder, "Congratulations, welcome to the tribe!"
I thanked him and then Ellen and I wandered back out to the front.
As far as the show went, that was more or less the sum of my contribution, as one of the understudies was quite capable of joining in with the general dancing and crowd scenes, and I was now free to go back up the scaffolding to resume construction of the beanstalk. Bernard was satisfied that we owned the main cow scene, so I wasn't required for the time being.
As for Mum, her subsequent scenes needed repeating a few times, and it was just for me she would change with her back to the other girls and remove her bra and swing her tits at me with a knowing smile.
We left in the late afternoon to multiple smiles and waves and 'dears' from Bernard, and drove ourselves back home, our tiredness suddenly overtaking us. Mum took me upstairs by the hand and into her and Dad's bedroom. We went through into their en-suite, dropping our clothes haphazardly behind us along the way, and this time we spent a leisurely half-hour or so facing one another in the bath, her toes playing with my dick and juggling my ball sac, and one of my big toes, for its part, trying, successfully, to access her pussy. We flicked each other with water, but our eyes were heavy, our lids drooped, and finally it was Mum who jerked me awake to the realization that the water had gone cold around us. We got out of the bath together and she wrapped the two of us into her bathrobe and, like two peas in a pod, we made our way over to the bed and I think we were asleep, arm-in-arm, before our heads reached the pillows.
Of course we again awoke to discover that we'd overslept. Again we leapt up, scrambled our clothes together and again raced out to the car to rush to the hospital. Again Mum had forgotten to comb her hair so again I went into that gift-shop...
We had many, and created many of our own, diversions along the road towards opening night. We completely revamped the Daisy costume, streamlining it by replacing the buttons with Velcro strips and transferring the udders from an appendage attached to my waist to an integral part of the skin itself. This released my body to give better movement and...okay, better access to Mum's gorgeous assets and also better reception of her hand sneaking behind her to wank me off mid-scene. Inside the costume we could also assemble a variety of props, like the squeeze bottle we introduced for squirting out milk every time Jack's mother claimed we were no longer being productive. From Mum's report I managed to get her right between the eyes in one rehearsal.
Opening night was a roaring success, and even Dad was given a prime position in the middle of the front stalls to watch us. The show received standing ovations and the crowd began a rhythmical clapping of 'Cow!...Cow!...Cow!...Cow...!'
Mum's final scene had been the fight in, it turned out, custard, so she was not ready for this. She quickly slipped out into the wings where I was waiting and we smoothly slipped into the Daisy costume and pranced back out to a roaring reception. We did a more vulgar repetition of our jig, squirting other members of the cast and the audience like a Formula One winner would squirt champagne, and the curtain fell to whistling applause. There were numerous curtain calls before we were finally allowed to leave the stage with the feeling of a job very well done. Bernard even promoted us from 'dears' to 'darlings', a rare privilege.
A few weeks later I was called for a job interview, and the lady interviewing me said,
"By the way, that cow thing...it wasn't you appearing in 'Jack and the Beanstalk' in town this Christmas by any chance, was it?"
Fifteen minutes later I left the building with strict instructions to report to her desk at nine o'clock, Monday, sharp.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone