A Gift in the Post Pt. 03

“Best you buy us some brasso, mistress; I’ll need it to polish the trophy.” Because if Zac Cooper Smith is your unbeatable Zuse, I have a distinct feeling his reign is about to abruptly end tomorrow.

From that point on, I was the team captain. And my team included Phoebe and Skinny. Skinny is a strange guy; I’d assumed the camper, rig, and financing were all down to Phoebe. Not so; skinny was actually something in the city, as the movers and shakers say. He earned a small fortune, and he came from old money as well.

Phoebe was like me–a council estate kid–two people from polar opposite backgrounds who, despite those backgrounds and outward appearances, got together and forged themselves into a very strong team.

It was hard to spot at first. It appeared as though Phoebe treated Skinny like something she had scraped off the very expensive shoes Skinnyboy bought her. In the privacy of their own space, Phoebe didn’t stop fussing over him. Making sure his food was right. Skinny would live on a diet of burgers and fries if Phoebe let him.

We finished our curries, and the girls shared a bottle of wine. Skinny and I rather unexpectedly got a couple of bottles of nice beer. We finished our drinks and sat under the stars. I needed to discuss race tactics. The other three just wanted to run the track as fast as they could.

For me, there is much more to it than that. I wanted to embarrass Zac and his wife. Not only did I want to beat him, but I also wanted Skinny to pull Phoebe across the finish line before Zac and Marieann.

Most of the talking tactics were actually convincing Skinny that he could do it. Skinny was skinny because he ran off every bit of food Phoebe pushed down his throat. He ran more miles a week than me. I did it for fitness. Skinny was an endorphin junkie. He ran to hit the pain barrier. Then, when you burst through it, your body releases endorphins to lift you above the pain.

I knew if I could draw Zac’s speed by overextending him on the first lap, I’d piss all over him to the finish line, but more importantly, with the sting of Zac’s sprint speed extracted, which I have to grudgingly admit is pretty fast, Skinny could use his superior fitness to run him down in the final straight. I was relying on Zac’s ego, refusing to let his brain consider skinny a threat and his woman’s I’m a “pwincess; it all belongs to me attitude, and not contributing anything to the thought process at all. I was more and more convinced Team Council Estate Plus, a posh kid, was going to pick up the first and second rosettes.

Miranda was excited. She is as competitive as I am. I’d spent a lot of the night sleeping with my face under her bum. The rotten, bad bitch left my key with Phoebe to make sure she didn’t crack and let me out and lose my energy. She actually believes that the old wives tale is true. I don’t care; I had her howling in the night three or four times.

When we woke up in the morning, someone had stuck a sign on the back of the van. It said

“If the caravan’s rocking,

“Don’t come knocking!”

It’s still there today.

I immediately suspected Phoebe and Skinny, but there was a new van parked next to us in the morning. A genuine horse box. The kind you see at show jump meets and gymkhana with straw and bits of bailer twine tied to the sides. I saw an older guy, I thought that maybe I knew him. He came over and offered his hand. “I think I know you from somewhere,” he said, probably rugby. I have to tell you to bring you and Miranda to breakfast at ours in ten minutes. Phe and skinny are on their way over.” As he said, I heard Phoebe call.

“Hi Kevin. You’ve been a bad boy again.” When he turned to look, there were two or three nasty welts showing below his shorts.

“Nope, Phe, I’ve been very, very good.”

“My god, she is a sadistic bitch.”

“Oh yes,” said Kevin. “I’m a very lucky boy.”

Ahh, I thought obviously one of us

Another guy emerged from the new van. Phoebe started introductions for my benefit.

“This is super sluts new man, Keith. Keith, this is Kevin; the tall chap is Peter; he is a Scot, but we try not to hold that against him. I assume if you two nare-do-wells are here, then both the lovely Tina and the gorgeous Susie are chained to the stove.”

“Keith isn’t Keith today; he is Ponyboy Alad.” “Named after the winged god of Assyria, he is going to beat Zuse in the big race.”

“That will be something to see,” a huge brown baritone voice boomed out of Peter.

“What will be something to see, you old goat?” said an older woman, stepping out of the horse box and holding onto the arm of the Scotsman.

“This vindictive, spiteful harpie who clings to me is my wife. Her name is Susie. My darling, this is Alad. Keep this under your hat, old girl, but he is hotly tipped to beat Zuse in the big race.”

“Then, just for a change, you are right, you old blowhard!” “It will be something to see.”

“Will someone go get the slut out of her pit?” said Phoebe. “I’m starving”.

“I’ve been up for ages. Miranda spoke as she stepped out of the back of our van. Beauty like this isn’t an accident; it takes time to craft the correct look of a sex goddess.”

She looked amazing. A black and white quarter-panelled latex underbust corset with matching quarter-cup bra Her nipples were covered by black discs, which were held in place by white gold barbels. She wore no knickers, her puss hidden from direct view by a black brooch. I was later told it was made from Whitby jet. That was held in place by a vertical white gold pin that dropped through her white labia rings.

“Jesus Christ, Miranda!” boomed Peter. Don’t you need a licence to dress like that?

“No, Peter, darling.” “Can I borrow him for a minute or two?” Susie, please.

“Not dressed like that, you strumpet.” “He may be an old goat, but he’s my old goat.”

“I need his special skills, Susie.” “I have a problem, or rather, my boy has a problem I need his help with.”

I suppose I looked a little lost here.

Peter, is a saddlemaker pet. I want to know if he can come up with a full-time solution to your little racing problem.

What’s his little racing problem, sweetie?

“Ahh, well, that’s just it; it isn’t little at all, Peter; it’s fucking obscenely enormous. The slut wants it on display so everyone can see what she has to play with, but safe so the poor boy doesn’t trip over it.” Said Phoebe.

“Shut up, you tart,” said Miranda.

“How big?” said Peter. ”

“Even Tina will be jealous.” Said Phoebe, I am. Then she turned skinny and, for the first time I ever saw her, gave him a kiss. I love my skinny boy, though. So only the tiniest bit green with envy.”

Skinny turned pink. I liked this guy more and more. He was shyer than me.

I knew Phoebe still had a key to my tube. But I knew Miranda was just messing with my head when she said that last night. I wasn’t surprised when she drew her keychain from her cleavage with my key on it. I was surprised when she unlocked me, pulled my cock out of the tube, gave me a shake to wake it up, and said, “That’s how small it is.”

Peter’s voice boomed out again. Tina may be able to help you out now. I made a harness for Kevin. He has you beat, Kevin, but not by much. This thing has a lock on the buckle, but it’s only for show. A pair of nail scissors would get you into it, or out of it, for that matter.

If it helps beat the pusillanimous pair, you can have it. But if he’s bigger than Kevin, you’re a very lucky girl.

“Ohh Tina. I have missed you.” Tina and Miranda obviously went back a long way. Is this the man who brought you back to us? As they broke their big girly hug, Skinny, who had sided up next to me for another round of positive reinforcement, said, “Now that’s a double dead heat in a zeppelin race if ever I’ve seen one.”

“So, skinny, you are a tit man then”?

No Keith. I’m just a pervert, mate. If it wasn’t for Phoebe, I’d probably have cut my wrists by now. She discovered Skinny back when I was Roger. I was a bit of an unhappy man when I was Roger. Phoebe banished the bastard, I’m better now that he’s gone for good. Phoebe was a psychiatric nurse. I met her after my second suicide attempt. Skinny laughed; it was the first time I’d seen him even smile. She takes her work home with her, you see.

Alad, look what Tina has for you. It was a jock strap made from rawhide lacing. Let’s try it on you. I get to show the world what a lucky bitch I am, and you won’t be playing football with your purple helmet.

Peter suggested wetting it before I put it on. Apparently, rawhide stretches when wet and shrinks a little when it dries. Once it had dried, it held me like a finger trap. To be honest, it felt very snug, but not uncomfortably tight. I enjoyed wearing it.

Just as we were pulling out chairs to eat, Duncan turned up with an older lady in tow. Miranda introduced them. This was Katy. Katy and Duncan were an item long before he became Miranda’s ponyboy, but they had a falling out. It looked as though his bridge-building had been successful.

“I’ve come to ask a favour,”, said Duncan. Do you know if anyone has a cart we can borrow just for the parade? Katy wants to give it a go for old times sake.”

“Does that mean I’ve been given the old Heave Ho?” Asked Miranda. “I’m sorry, Miranda,” said Katy. We shouldn’t have asked. Duncan, you must do it with Miranda; I’ll watch.”

“I’ve got a better idea. We want to keep things a little low-key until the race this afternoon. How about you two take my sulky?” Duncan knows it well, and it’s easy to drive. Go up to the house and talk to Guy, Duncan. Tell him if he doesn’t swap the entry name over, there are five witches coming to see him with an elastrator.”

“Thanks Miranda “Thank you,” said Duncan. Oh, we saw Kevin and Kay in the house paddock. He says he has a little something of yours.”

“Phoebe. Look after this lump, will you? I’ll be a little while.”

“What is it, mistress? Can I help?” I said.

“Yes, you can help by staying here.” “I’ll be back soon.”

I was worried and was about to say something, but I got a look that said, “Button it.”