Fairground Farrago

The alternate title for this was going to be 'Save a pussy to get some' but I figured that was too on the nose.

This is a story about a middle-aged teacher asking her neighbour's son and his friends to help find her lost cat. And then rewarding them in unexpected ways. There is a mild hint of nonconsent and reluctance in part of the story, but I assure you she ends up happy in the end.

I'm falling behind in my publishing and I'm pushing this story out to make up for it. As always, I'm looking for people to volunteer to proofread my stories to ensure they meet the quality this site's readers deserve. If you want to help, or are just looking to read a new story before anyone else, please get in touch.

Fairground Farrago

I was hanging around with Ian and Jerry, playing basketball with the hoop my dad had bolted to the side of the house. When I noticed Mrs Havisham walking down our drive. I let out a groan under my breath as she was my least favourite person in the world as well as my neighbour.

She was a religious education teacher and eight years ago, when I was ten, I had the misfortune to have her as my form tutor. My parents aren't at all religious and taught me how the bible and other good-books often contradict themselves. So when she started each day with a quote from the bible and a prayer. I rebelled and asked her. If the good-book was the word of god, why did it contradict itself?

That went down like a lead balloon, especially when I quoted some contradictions. She tried to give me detention, but I refused to accept it. So we went before the headmaster. She wanted me suspended, at the very least. But I explained I'd only asked a question and I wouldn't hold it against her if she didn't know the answer. I could see the headmaster trying hard not to grin as I said this. Mrs Havisham wasn't well liked by any of the other teachers.

Still, any crappy job she could legitimately make me do during that year was mine. And at the end of the year, when I got an awful report from her and only her, my parents ignored it.

I wondered what she was doing coming into our drive. Surely not to complain about the noise from the basketball again. I thought we'd settled that last summer. She'd come around to complain about the noise to my parents, but my dad cut her off. Saying they didn't complain about her playing table tennis or lawn badminton. He told her the grunts that she and her friends made while playing were positively pornographic.

You should have seen her face when he said that. It was priceless.

"Simon, have you seen my kitten Fluffy?" She asked.

It wasn't exactly a kitten. Fluffy must have been 8 months old.

"No, Miss Havisham." It's funny how you fall into old school habits even when you no longer go to school.

"You've not locked him in your garage, have you?"

"Of course not! Why would you even say that? I love animals."

"I don't know. Some young people today can be so casually cruel."

I'm saved from a response as my mum appears at the door.

"Hello Mrs Havisham. What can we do for you?"

"My kitten is missing, and I was just asking your son if he'd seen him."

"I've not seen Fluffy in days." mum confirms and then adds. "Boys, why don't you put down that silly ball and help our neighbour find her cat."

"Mum!" I whined and got a glare in reply. "Ok" I grumble and we follow the old lady back down our drive.

I say old lady, but she probably wasn't that old, I'd guess she might have been 50, even if she dressed like she was 80. Even today towards the end of August and during the school holidays she was wearing her usual tweed jacket and skirt. Me and my friends were just in sports vests and shorts, and we were hot and sweaty.

"Where should we start?" Ian asked.

"I don't think knocking on doors will work." I reply. "Most people will still be out at work."

"We could check out the neighbourhood for any blood stains on the road." Jerry puts in.

Causing Mrs Havisham to blanch. Jerry can be quite a dick at times, but he'd had as tough a time with her as I had. Only for different reasons.

"Or we could look in people's bins. That's what I'd do with a cat if I hit one."

"Come off it, Jerry. Lighten up." I might not like the woman, but I did like cats.

In the end we walked around most of the neighbourhood, calling out the cat's name and checking gardens where possible.

"How about the fairground?" I asked.

"Why the fairground? Anyway its shut, isn't it?" She asked.

There had been an accident and someone was hurt recently. When the place was inspected properly, they found lots of health and safety violations. From substandard maintenance on the rides to unsanitary toilets. And don't even ask about the food preparation. It had been shut pending prosecution, which was a shame as we'd been going there forever.

Although we rarely had the money to go on the rides, it was a great place for teenagers to hang out and look at girls. Hoping that one of us was brave enough to one day ask one of them out.

"I was thinking. With it closed the mice and pigeons would be all over it, hunting for scraps of stale popcorn and the like. Seems like an ideal hunting ground for a cat."

"I'm sure Fluffy doesn't do that sort of thing." 'Yeah right, I bet it never takes a shit either' I thought. "Anyway it's too far for him to go."

"Not really." Ian pipes up. "Cut past the garages, down the lane, and it's just across the field. A hundred yards at most. Unless you go by road. Then it's a long way."

She thought about it as we headed down the little lane to the 8 standalone brick garages that hardly anyone used.

Well, that's not strictly true. On one occasion when I was taking my usual shortcut back from the fair, I found a couple having sex in the back of a parked car there. I watched for several minutes before the woman saw me, and surprisingly she didn't seem to mind. Her lover did though when he saw me. He dived back into the front of the car and roared off. I'm sure it must be dangerous to drive with your trousers around your ankles.

We got to the garages and checked for the cat, and then we looked at the earth bank that was the boundary of the field. Generations of people had worn a bare patch exposing rocks that formed a ragged set of steps up the side. The problem was the ditch on the other side. It was filled with slimy mud and stank to high heaven if you were unfortunate enough to slip into it. Everyone I knew had marked their passage by coming home with mud up to their knees.

"Perhaps I should get the car?" She offered, seeing the bank.

"Why?" Jerry asked. "If the cat is out there, you might miss him coming back across the field." He scrambled up the bank. Pausing at the top and leaping off. The preferred method to miss the bog of perpetual stink, as we called it.

Ian went next, and I followed, pausing at the top to see if Mrs Havisham would follow.

Her first stumbling block is she's quite short, and the rocks are relatively far apart. I can hear the creak of the stitches of her skirt as she tries to lift her leg high enough to climb up. She glares up at me as if this is my fault and gestures I should move. I don't, why should I? If she's going to give up, then we can go home and resume our game.

Instead, she reaches down and surprises me by pulling up her skirt. Usually her skirts are a minimum of three inches below the knee. Now I can see her knees and lower thighs, and I'm shocked to find she actually has quite nice legs.

Where the hell had that idea come from? Thinking sexual thoughts about old Miss Havisham. God! I need to get a new girlfriend. The last one hadn't lasted long, even if she was the only girl I'd had sex with. And then only once.

Mrs Havisham started to climb with a bit more success this time. Her skirt was still a problem, but she was managing for the most part. One rock was a little higher than the rest and when she put her sensible brown leather shoe on it. It robbed her of her leverage, and she looked up at me for help. Hastily I took my eyes off her legs. From its current position I was almost certain, if I'd moved just a little, I could have seen up her skirt all the way to her knickers.

Again with the sex thoughts about my old Nemesis?

Squatting down, I offered my hand. "On the count of 3. 1, 2 and 3..."

I hauled her up and suddenly realised she was a lot lighter than I'd anticipated. I pulled too hard and my arms wind milled as I started to topple back off the bank. I managed to twist around and turn my fall into a jump and landed safely on the other side of the ditch. Turning my excess momentum into a forward roll and back to my feet in a single movement.

"I hope you don't expect me to do that?" She asks from the top of the bank.

"No, just come down this side and hop across the ditch." Ian suggests.

The reason why we jump it is the bottom stone is that on that side is lower than the edge of the field. Only an inch or so higher than the mud in the ditch. So jumping can be tricky.

As Mrs Havisham turns her back to us to climb down, I cannot help noticing from this angle she has quite a nice bum. I also cannot help noticing that I'm not the only one looking at her shapely legs and backside. Ian and Jerry are staring as well.

"How do I do this?" She asked as she turned to face us at the bottom.

"We'll help." Jerry offers, surprising me. I'd never expect him to offer her help of any kind.

He and Ian stand on the edge of the field and reach out to take one of Mrs Havisham's hands in theirs.

"On the count of 3. We'll pull and you jump."

I tense up, expecting a trick from him. Perhaps to tug her into the mud on the count of two. Some petty revenge for all those years she insisted on calling him Jeremiah when nobody else did.

On 3 she jumped and my friends pulled her over the ditch. Or almost so. One of her feet slips off the grass and dips into the oozing mud. She stumbles into the others and all three go down in a pile of limbs.

"Oh my god. What is that awful stink?" She exclaims.

"We don't know. We used to assume the farmer put chopped up people in it from time to time to keep up the smell." I reply and notice one of her shoes is missing, and that leg is coated above the ankle in what I'll hopefully refer to as 'mud'

Taking a stick and holding my breath, I ferret around until I find her shoe just below the surface. Flicking it out and onto the grass.

"There you go, although you might not want to wear it just yet."

She gags at the smell, then grabs handfuls of grass and starts to wipe down her foot and leg. Repeating the process on her shoe.

For some stupid reason that bypasses all my usual blocks, I blurt out. "You have really nice legs, Miss Havisham." Oh god! Let the world swallow me up.

I've just complimented my ex teacher's legs in front of my friends. She straightens up and then looks down to realise her skirt is still tugged up from climbing the bank. Quickly she tugs it down.

"I think its safe enough to walk across the field barefoot. Just a few old cow pats to worry about. But you'll need your shoe when we get inside the fairground." I suggest.

"And how are we going to get inside? It's locked up, presumably."

"We know a way in." Jerry replies.

"Why am I not surprised?" She mutters as we head across the field towards the fair.

From the back I notice Mrs Havisham's skirt has split. The modest 2 inch split at the back has grown to at least six.

During the summer we used to sneak in when the fair was closed. Looking for dropped coins or ride tokens. One summer I'd collected so much that I spent almost an entire day on the rides for free. Of course at the time we had to worry about maintenance men, caretakers and cleaners. I hope we don't have that to worry about this time.

At the chain-link fence we head to the gate and I'm pleased to see it's chained up as usual. Dropping onto my hands and knees, I turn on my side and push the bottom edges of the overlapping gates apart. Forming a narrow passage I can just squeeze through.

Edging myself forward on my side with my arms going first, I slip my head and shoulders through the gap and then pull myself the rest of the way. Having done it hundreds of times, I make it look easy. However, as I look at Mrs Havisham, I suddenly wonder if she'll fit.

"What?" She asks, seeing me staring at her.

"I'm not sure you'll fit."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"No, but you're quite big around here..." I mime her chest area and she blushes.

"Nonsense. Of course I'll fit."

And of course she didn't.

She managed to get her head, shoulders and arms through before the wires caught on her clothing, holding her in place. She tried to move back, but she was trapped. I could see Jerry grinning, and even Ian was trying to hide a smirk.

After a couple of minutes of struggling, she stopped and looked at us.

"Well, aren't you going to help me? I cannot be found like this. Think of my reputation? A teacher caught apparently breaking into a fairground. Even if it is for a good reason."

Moving closer, I reply. "OK, keep still, let me look at it. Jerry can you push this gate forward and Ian can you pull back the other one."

"It's not gonna work, mate." Ian replies moments later and I see what he means.

The ends of the wires on the gate have snagged into her tweed jacket on both the front and the back. Kneeling down, almost on top of her, I reach down her back and try to unhook the wire.

"Ow! Fuck!" I exclaim, pulling my bleeding finger back. The end of the wires are very sharp.

"What?" She asks and I look down to realise her face is almost under my crotch.

"I've just cut myself on the wire. So you better lie still."

"OK, but don't take too long." I notice her glance at my crotch and look away.

For some reason, I get the image of her lying there and looking at my dick. Her mouth opens in anticipation of...

Fuck, not again. Even for a teenage boy, my fantasies are getting out of control. At this rate, I'll get an erection. That would be both embarrassing and funny to see how she'd react to it. Especially as she's stuck, and at our mercy. Damn! Why did I have to think about that?

After a few minutes, I've freed her back, but the front is a problem.

"Miss Havisham. I need to unfasten your jacket. I need the slack to get the wires out. But that means that I'm probably going to have to touch your..." I don't want to say it, but gesture to her chest.

"If you have to then you have to. I don't want to be here in this position any longer than I have to. But if I think you're taking advantage I'll..."

"What?" asks Jerry. "You're not really in a position to do anything. Ignoring the fact you're stuck there. We're all over 18 and have nothing to do with any schools any more. We're helping you just because we're nice. Of course, if you're going to be arsie about it, we can go. I'm sure Simon can climb over the fence and we can leave you here.

"In an hour or two after it's dark and the rats have come out for a sniff. I'm sure one of us might remember to call the authorities and tell them we saw someone suspicious around the fairground. They might send someone out tonight, otherwise you'll have to wait for a dog walker tomorrow, but don't worry, and it'll be a mild night. Although, I'm sure it will be uncomfortable."

"Settle down, mate." I admonish Jerry.

"Well, I mean we're doing all this for her and she's complaining. She's not even mentioned what sort of reward we get for helping."

Mrs Havisham cleared her throat. "I was thinking of ice cream or sweets."

"Seriously, what are we 12?" Jerry replies. "I was thinking of something more substantial than that."

He puts a toe under the hem of her skirt and lifts it slightly, luckily she doesn't notice. I shake my head and he shrugs.

"We can talk about the specifics after we find the damn cat." He replies a little sullenly.

"So are you ok with me undoing your jacket?" I ask and she sighs.

"Yes, I suppose."

Reaching through the wire from one side and gripping the tweed material to undo the top button. The button is very tight going through the hole and I need to grip both the jacket and button hard. Moving to the other buttons, the back of my hand pressing against her blouse. Trying not to think about the larger than expected breasts beneath.

As I get towards the last button I look up to see Jerry grinning. Holding his hands in front of him and miming groping giant breasts. Whilst making an 'O' face. I almost snigger, but cover it with a cough. Ian has his hand over his mouth to keep quiet.

With the last button undone, I'm able to use the slack of the cloth on her top half to unhook the material. It looks like the jacket is ruined now. The problem is her underside is under tension with her weight and many wires poking into the jacket.

"We need to lift you up to get some slack."

"How do you expect me to do that?" She snaps. "Sorry, it's rather uncomfortable." She adds in a softer tone.

"Ian, can you reach under Miss Havisham and see if you can lift her up a bit? I need a little wiggle room."

Kneeling, he reaches under the gate and under Mrs Havisham.

"Ian! What are you doing?" She exclaims.

"Trying to help. Why?"

"You're touching my; breast." She starts to wriggle.

"Sorry, but I can't exactly see what I'm doing from here."

"Keep still!" I order, holding her down. "I've already cut myself once."

"But what if somebody comes? What of my reputation if someone sees me being groped by three boys."

"Ahem" Jerry exclaims, holding up his hands. "I know you're only a RE teacher, but I would have thought that even you could count to three.

Then he leaned over and placed a hand directly on her upper tit.

"There! At least now you're telling the truth for once."

"Jeremiah, get your hand off me!"

"Who?" She gritted her teeth and tried again.

"Jerry, would you please remove your hand from my breast?"

He stood up, all smiles. "Of course Mrs H."

I got the last of the wire free. "Miss Havisham, I'm going to try to remove your jacket so it doesn't get snagged up again."

Pulling the jacket up and over her head revealed a high necked and long sleeve blouse, which had already come untucked from her skirt. It also revealed a better figure than anyone might have suspected. The jacket seemed to serve a dual role of hiding her large bust and slim figure.

"Ok, you can try to come through now; slowly." But she'd started to wriggle forward before I'd finished, and I heard a tearing sound.

"Stop!" I ordered and pressed myself down on her to stop her.

The cotton of her blouse had no chance against the wire compared to the heavy tweed. One wire had sliced through her blouse directly over her breast, leaving a three-inch gash.

"Jesus woman! If you weren't wearing such a substantial bra, that wire would have skewered you!"

"Simon, get off me!" Suddenly I realise I'm virtually sitting on her head.

My balls and arse are resting on her face. The Jerry part of me cheered at humiliating her, but the 'me' part of me felt embarrassed and I lifted up.

"Look, just do what you have to get me out as quickly as possible."

OK, that was easy. Reaching down and slipping my thumbs into the tear. Trying to ignore the thoughts that I was touching her bra and indirectly her breast. I tore the tear a little longer until the wire came free.

Moving to rest on one knee and giving her more room to crawl under me. I reached down lower to stop her blouse or skirt from snagging as she wriggled all the way through.

She was flushed as she stood and examined the 5 inch gash in her blouse. The way it was angled meant it hung open, revealing a sliver of her plain white bra underneath. We were all staring at her chest.

Jerry suddenly piped up. "Tell you what, Mrs H. You've a great pair of knockers." She blushed further, but she didn't look wholly displeased.