Commodities

The Tinker’s Career: Part 5 Customer services expand.. Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected. Ester smiled then. "Have you not seen the crack in the wall that separates our bedrooms?" I had been found out not because of my handkerchief. A crack in the wall had exposed what I had done. There was no other course than to admit it. "You have watched me through that crack?" Ester nodded. "Nearly every night, though last night was the first time I saw you in such a state. It was quite a wonder to me, for it was the first time I have seen a man do such a thing. Do you do it often?" I hung my head then, for the difference in our ages and Ester's tone of voice reminded me of speaking with my mother. "Yes, nearly every night; in the privy. Last night I was aroused to such a state I could not stop myself." Ester crossed the space between us and stroked my back. "It is not a thing to be ashamed of, Johnathan. Ginny said all men do it when they do not have a woman to receive their seed. Would it not be a greater relief were you to have a woman who would do so? I only ask because I have never been such a woman so I do not know. If you have been with a woman, please tell me the truth of my supposition." It seemed to me that our conversation had led me into yet another situation from which I could not escape. I did not know in what direction our conversation would next go, but I thought I must answer Ester with the truth. "Yes, I have been with a woman, and yes, it is very much more of a pleasure." Ester stroked my back again. "Tell me, Johnathan, did you cause this woman to also have pleasure?" I allowed that I believed I had. Ester's next words were spoken in a lower, softer tone. "How did you know she enjoyed the experience?" I thought perhaps I could end Ester's questions with my answer. "Judging by the sounds I heard coming from your bedroom last night, I would think you are well aware of how a woman acts when she is enjoying the pleasure of passion." Ester did not even pause before she spoke again in the same soft voice. "I intended for you to hear me, for there was a reason. I have been with one man, years and years ago, and it was not a pleasure at all. Ginny told me that was because the first time there is always pain, but I was fearful of attracting a man that the same might be the case. Since I have never repeated the act, I know how I feel when I relieve my urges, but not how it feels when a man does the same for me. "Now that I have grown older, I wonder if the man was merely unskilled in the ways of women. I would answer that question were I to find a man who is willing to show me. My hopes were that you would be that man, but until last night I did not know if you had the same urges or not. At this moment, I fear I may be too old for you to help me determine the answer." Upon Ester relating her experience with one man, I thought of her as a women in some distress rather than as a woman speaking to me as had my mother. I did sympathize with her plight, for I too had been in the same condition before Estelle taught me. Had Estelle not taught me so well, I should have most likely continued making trips to the privy when the urge struck me. Those sympathetic feelings caused me to rationalize. Would it not be a lacking in my character not to pass on my knowledge? After all, was that not what Estelle had done; passed on knowledge to me that I might understand the ways coupling could be so enjoyable for both? I smiled at Ester as I gently stroked her breast through her bodice. "I could be the man you seek, and you are not so old as to cause me to turn away from you. In fact, the woman who taught me was about your age. If you truly wish this to be, I would enjoy it, I am sure." Ester did not reply. She simply took my hand and led me to her bedroom. When Ester closed her bedroom door, I asked if she would light a candle. Her reply caused me even greater thoughts of sympathy and a resolve to give her that which she sought. "I am afraid you will not like how I appear without clothing. Ginny said men are attracted to large breasts and narrow hips, and I have neither." I attempted to put her mind at ease that she might be more receptive to what I was going to do. "Ester, if men were attracted only to large breasts and narrow hips, half the women in England would be without a man. I, for one, simply enjoy the touch of a woman's body, no matter how her curves are formed. If you would rather I not see you though, I would explain that it is not only the eyes that may see. The hands and lips can see in the darkness every bit as well as the eyes can see in the light." When I heard the rustle of Ester removing her dress, I quickly removed my shirt, boots and trousers and then waited. When I heard Ester's quiet voice say, "I am ready", I reached out my hands toward what I thought would be her shoulders. Instead, my hands found her breasts, and upon feeling my touch, Ester became very tense. I quickly moved my hands up, stroked her shoulders, and then gently pulled her against me. As I did so, I became aware that Ester's breasts were not so small, and her hips were not so narrow. Her breasts were large enough I felt them flatten against my bare chest, and when I cupped her hips, I decided while her hips were not so wide as Emily's, neither were they the hips of a young girl. I stroked her back and the curve of her hips until I felt Ester begin to relax a bit, then slipped one hand up her side and cupped her left breast. When I did so, she tensed again and I heard her sharp intake of breath. "Ester, do not be alarmed at my touch. It is only what a man does to arouse the passions in a woman. Allow yourself to just feel the sensations and you will see that I am far from causing you any pain." Ester did not really relax until my thumb found her teat and stroked it gently. Immediately upon my doing so, the small bud began to swell, Ester inhaled a short, quick breath and then murmured, "I feel that in my belly. Should it be so?" I chuckled. "If you did not, it would mean that I am not doing it correctly. We should lie down now that I may continue to give you those feelings." Lying beside Ester was much different than lying beside Estelle, Elizabeth, or Grace. I supposed that was because she knew not the ways of men and woman. It mattered not to me. I was once again sampling the treasures of a woman, a feeling I had thought to be lost until such time as I was able to take a wife. Such a treasure she was too. With every caress of her breasts and teats, Ester quietly moaned and after a while, I felt her open her legs a bit. Knowing that meant her passions were sufficiently aroused to tolerate a touch between her thighs, I stroked down her belly until my fingertips touched a thicket of hairs, then gently cupped the lips secreted under those hairs. Ester gasped at that touch, but did not pull my hand away. She only opened her thighs a bit more, and when she did, I slipped on finger between her nether lips. Ester again made a little gasp, but exhaled slowly when I stroked her rippled inner lips. The other women I had made love with seemed to find the sensation of my fingertip on their inner lips to be arousing. Ester seemed to find those same sensations overpowering, I would suppose because she had not before had the experience. She began to moan little moans and to move her hips about as I stroked. When I closed my lips around her right teat and sucked gently while stroking her petals, Ester jerked her hips. I was not quick enough to move my hand before that finger slipped inside her portal. That penetration caused her to jerk her hips again and then moan loudly. "Oh my, I feel as if I am on fire now. Is it always so?" I smiled as I began moving that finger in and out. "Generally it is, though your fires are as yet just a small flame. You shall see how hot those fires will become." With that said, I used my thumb to stroke at the top of her slit and felt the stiff little button still hiding under her folds. Ester gasped at that touch and spread her thighs wide. I continued suckling her teats, stroking a finger in and out, and gently rubbing her little button until my finger was coated with her juices. When I judged those juices to be flowing freely, I knelt between Ester's spread thighs. "I will be gentle as a lamb until you wish more, Ester." I was truly as gentle as I promised her, only touching her open lips with the tip of my cock at first. Ester gasped at that first touch, but did not close her thighs. She just whispered, "Though you may cause me pain, I must know. Do as you will with me." As soon as the tip of my cock was wetted, I pressed forward, but ever so slowly. By fractions of an inch, my cock entered Ester until I felt resistance. I promptly withdrew, and then pressed forward again. Ester was a snug fit. I surmised this was caused by the lack of penetration for many years. As a result, I did not push my cock home until the sixth or seventh stroke; it is difficult to remember exactly - and upon my belly meeting Ester's mound, I remained in place for a few moments to allow her passage to be accustomed to the stretching. Though Ester was not nearly at her peak, she was beginning to breathe in quick, short breaths. When I withdrew my cock and then began stroking it in and out of her snug passage, those breaths became quicker and more shallow. I began to feel an alternating tightening and loosening when my cock eased into her depths. It was much the same sensation as I had felt with my other lovers, though I knew they were creating that sensation for both our benefits. Ester seemed to not know she was doing it. As I continued to stroke my cock, I bent my head enough to capture Ester's left teat between my lips. A gentle suckle cause the response I expected, though I did not expect it to be so strong. Ester thrust her body up just as my cock reached the extent of her passage, and I felt her wrap her arms around my back. Upon starting my next stroke, I pinched her teat gently between my teeth. Ester gasped out, thrust her body up again, and I felt her fingers digging into my back. A few moments later and much sooner than I had anticipated, Ester cried out and began such a shaking I was forced to hold her right hip with my hand lest my cock slip from her slippery nest. The shaking quickly increased my passions to the point I could no longer control them. As Ester heaved her body up into my stroke, the first surge of seed raced up my shaft, flew out the tip, and splattered inside Ester's writhing passage. A second, then a third, and then yet another erupted from my cock, and Ester still shook and made little cries of pleasure. I continued to stroke my cock in and out of Ester until she mostly stopped shaking except for an occasional jerk of her body and a quiet little moan. When I did withdraw my cock, Ester sighed. "What Ginny said is true. It was as if deep in my belly I became tighter and tighter until I exploded. I must feel this way again and again and again."; Over the next year, I obliged Ester at any time she wished to feel my cock penetrate her. If the weather was rain, I would oblige her of a morning as well as of an evening. At her suggestion, her bed became our bed, though I continued to pay her for my room and my board. No self-respecting man would allow himself to be kept as a man might keep a mistress. No, I made love with Ester because I enjoyed both my own feelings and the way she responded.; It was the spring of the next year that I called at a farmhouse on the west edge of Whitchurch. The woman of the house said she had a pot or two that required mending and went to fetch them. When she came out of her kitchen, she carried a large soup pot. Behind her came a young woman about my age carrying two smaller pots. This young woman had long hair as black as a raven's feathers, eyes that were as blue as the sky, and lips that were soft and sensuous. Her simple housedress showed me the breasts under it were larger than most, and it flared from her narrow waist to hips I imagined would be an absolute joy to have in my hands. I had learned when still an apprentice that women enjoy flattery, and that sometimes that flattery resulted in an additional purchase. As I had been sharing a bed with Ester for some time, I had moved some of my tools into my old bedroom. On days of rain, I spent the time not attending to Ester's needs in my now workshop in the making of pastry cutters. I had a selection of pastry cutters in my cart. When the two women approached, I smiled. "Ma'am, I had expected to find a housewife, but not two sisters." The woman blushed. "Sir, you surely must be of poor sight. This is not my sister. This is my daughter, Rose." I smiled again. "Be that as it may, the two of you look very much the same. I would venture any man would have difficulty selecting between the two of you." The woman was still blushing, and now, so too was the daughter. She smiled at me then. "Sir, my mother already has her man, so there would be no selection required. I believe you to have another motive." Well, she had me there. I said no more as I worked to repair the three pots. When I finished the last, I handed it to the young girl, then reached into my cart and retrieved a pastry cutter. "I also have pastry cutters should you be in need. This one is but a simple egg shape that is priced at a half-pence, but I have others as well." I reached into my cart again and picked up a special cutter shaped in the outline of a baby chick. "Perhaps you do not have a cutter such as this but would be willing to part with a pence to have one. It would bring something new to your Easter dinner pastries." The young girl, Rose, smiled. "Young man, your motive for flattery was merely to sell my mother something she does not need. I admit you to be smart, though you would not fool me." As I looked at Rose, I took an instant liking to her. Well, "liking" is not exactly the correct word. It was more than liking her though I did not know how to explain the feeling at that time. I began putting my tools back into my cart, but left the pastry cutters until last. When I picked up the chick, Rose chuckled. "You yield too easily I think. What ever would you do if you were wooing a young girl and she refused you?" I said it would depend upon how well I liked the young girl, put my pastry cutters in my cart, and then closed the lid and began pushing my cart back to Whitchurch. Along the way, I thought about how I had felt upon seeing Rose and how I had felt when she understood my attempt at selling my pastry cutters. At first, I thought she to be rather cheeky for a woman. Women were not supposed to disagree with men, or at least that is what I had been taught. When I thought some more though, I had to smile. Rose was smart enough to see through my flattery and I found that I liked that. I also remembered the way she had spoken. Her voice was as soft and as smooth as a stream running over a rock streambed. I liked that about her too. I shrugged to myself then. Yes, I had liked the girl, but she was only one of many young girls I had liked. There would no doubt be others as well. As I had made many pastry cutters, I decided to push my cart to the town square in Whitchurch on market day just as had Master Eaton taken his ware to the market in Honiton. It would cost me a day on the road, but perhaps I could sell enough pastry cutters to equal the income I would lose. I was sitting by my cart the next market day when who should I see walking down the line of sellers than Rose and her mother. They stopped at my cart, and Rose smiled. "My father has given me a pence. I would have a pastry cutter in the shape of a chick if you have one available." For reasons I did not understand at the time, my heart began to beat so hard I feared Rose would hear it. I quickly retrieved one of my chick pastry cutters from my cart and handed it to her. Her hand briefly touched mine as she took the pastry cutter, and then again when she put the pence in my hand. I feared my heart would fairly leap from my chest at those touches, so strongly and so quickly did it beat. Rose and her mother then walked away, but my heart did not resume its normal rhythm for some time. When I arrived back at Ester's home, I asked her if she had had a similar experience and if she thought I should seek the attentions of a physician. Ester smiled, but then frowned. "Johnathan, you have no malady that any physician can cure. Unfortunately, your malady will affect me as well, for unless Ginny was wrong in her tale, that malady is what she called love. I shall miss your attentions terribly, but I understood that one day this would happen." I asked Ester how this would change our situation, and she smiled again. "There is but one cure for what ails you, and that cure is to be with the woman who afflicted you. That means you must abandon me for her. Do not frown so. Though I have never been so afflicted, I understand." I was feeling as if I were speaking with my mother again. "What should I do if I must abandon you? Where am I to go? I can not just forget you either." Ester put her arms around me. "You should woo this woman and marry her. Once you have married, you will find a place to live, for you are brighter than most men. I do not wish you to forget about me, but it is time for you to be with a woman who can make you a proper home and give you children. I will miss you, but I am happy for you as well."; Well, I did not know the first thing about wooing a woman. For two weeks, I went to the market in hopes of seeing Rose again, and each week, she was there with her mother. They bought no more pastry cutters though. They would only walk by my cart and smile. The third week, when they walked past my cart, I gathered my courage and asked the only question I could think of as possibly appropriate. When Rose stopped at my cart, I tipped my cap. "Rose, I was wondering; would you enjoy a walk by the river this Sunday? If you would rather not, I understand, but I thought; well; I have taken a liking to you and; well; the river is so peaceful this time of year and --" Rose stopped my blathering with her laugh. "Sir, if you continue to ramble on, I fear you will soon step on your own tongue. If my mother agrees, I would very much enjoy a walk by the river this Sunday." I held my breath while Rose whispered something to her mother, then

The Tinker’s Career: Part 4 Meeting the needs of the patrons. Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected. Grace chuckled. "He is skilled at mending holes in buckets, but he is not very skilled in other things. He does not understand how the two of us may live here together without a man." Elizabeth smiled. "Such would believe any man. They are so proud of their own abilities they could not listen to an alternative." I felt the need to interrupt. I was more than willing to listen. "Elizabeth, if I may call you by that name, I assure you that though I am of few years, I am not of a closed mind. I simply said to Grace that there were tasks I believed a woman not capable of doing. Just before you arrived, she was telling me there was a task a woman could not do." Grace chuckled. "Johnathan, I did not say a woman could not do that task. I only asked if you believed so. You did not answer my question. That leads me to believe you were schooled in the ways of taking care of buckets and pots, but not schooled in the ways of taking care of women." That statement made me feel as if Grace thought me to be uneducated in anything other than tinker work, and the rashness of youth took away my propriety. "I have a very good understanding of how to take care of women. I was taught such by a woman." Elizabeth's eyes opened wide. "Oh. And just what did this woman teach you, cooking and sewing, or perhaps, how to do what a woman needs at times, the times she need to have her passions aroused and then relieved?" I realized then that I had talked myself into a position from which there was no escape. I could not lie without implying my ignorance and speaking the truth could very well give both women an offence. Still, my father had always stressed that truth is always a better course to steer than a lie. "Yes, she taught me the ways to increase her passions until they were relieved, and it is without boasting that I say I was an apt student. Many times she related to me the same. It is how a woman might have her passions aroused and then relieved without a man that I do not understand. No woman has the, shall we say, the proper tools for the task. "My teacher in these matters said all women have this need, yet Grace told me that you do not wish to have a man. I am at a loss to understand that as well." Grace smiled then. "Young Johnathan, you misunderstood my statement. We do not wish for a man to live with us. The reason for this is both Elizabeth and I were sold by our husbands at the market just as were cattle. Do not look so shocked. Such is a common happening because there is no other way for a man and wife to separate. It is not entirely according to the law, but the law is overlooked in cases such as this. "We had met previously, and had decided we did not wish to live with our husbands. My husband had a mistress in the town, and Elizabeth's husband was not at all kind to her. Our fathers paid two of their male friends to purchase us and then allow us to go where we would. That place to which we went was this small farm owned by my family and why we do not wish to be married once again. "While we did somewhat miss the attentions of a man at times, we soon discovered that it is not a requirement to have a cock to arouse and then relieve our passions. Women are perfectly capable of accomplishing that, both by themselves and with each other. That is not to say we would refuse the attentions of a man who did not stay though, were he to be a kind man of sufficient skill. Might you be one of those men?" Well, as the old saying goes, I could have been laid low by the single stroke of a goose quill. My situation had been changed from one somewhat irksome in nature to one in which two women were essentially requesting to sample my skills in the art of lovemaking. I was at a loss to answer that request, for though I understood how to satisfy one woman, I had never before been with two. Elizabeth sensed my confusion, and also chuckled. "Grace, I do believe you have dumbfounded this man. Perhaps we should take him inside lest he begin stumbling around aimlessly. Once inside, perhaps we should add to his knowledge of women, their needs, and how they may satisfy those needs." I was not as Elizabeth had said, not at the very second, but upon entering their house, I certainly became so. Elizabeth led me into the bedroom I assumed was shared by them both as the only other rooms were a large kitchen and a parlor of sorts. Elizabeth held my hand while Grace unbuttoned the bodice of the simple housedress she wore. Upon pulling the two halves apart, I could see her large, heavy breasts and those heavy breasts caused my cock to begin rising. After Elizabeth assisted Grace in removing the dress, I discovered she wore nothing, not even a chemise, underneath. The sight of the thick mass of hair on her mound, the color of which matched the blonde hair on her head, caused my cock to further stiffen. My arousal was seen by Elizabeth who stroked the bulge in my trousers and then laughed. "Grace, I do believe you have this man's attention. Shall we see his reaction to two women without clothing?" Moments later, Elizabeth was also naked. The hairs on her mound were a bit longer than Grace's, but matched the dark brown hair on her head. Her breasts, as I had thought, were smaller than Grace's, but not as small as I had imagined. They were merely somewhat flatter than had been Estelle's and therefore did not push out the front of her dress. My cock was fearfully extended by that time and being confined in my trousers had commenced to be painful. Grace took it upon herself to remedy that situation. She unlaced the front of my trousers and then pulled them down. My stiff cock bobbed free and she smiled. "Elizabeth, I believe we have found us a proper tool to stir our passions. Shall we see if his skills are as he boasts?" As Elizabeth removed my boots and my trousers while Grace pulled my shirt over my head, I was still unsure of what course to follow. Were I to apply my knowledge to one, would the other not feel left out of the pleasure? That uncertainty was rendered moot when the two women pulled me down on the bed between them. Grace nestled her breasts into my side, while Elizabeth guided my hand to the long teat on her right breast. I began stroking that breast and teat as Estelle had enjoyed, and was then surprised to feel Grace's hand sliding down my side to my cock. She gently stroked my length for a moment or two and then pulled Elizabeth's hand to do the same. Her own hand then began stroking between Elizabeth's slender thighs. Elizabeth opened her thighs with a sigh and I watched as Grace slowly pushed her finger into the mass of dark brown hair. What followed is confusing to me even to this day. It seemed that the two women's hands were stroking my cock one moment and then caressing each other the next. As I was lying on my back between them, I could see the delicate touches each made to the other. I also felt the warmth of their lips and tongues as they took turns kissing me and each other. Elizabeth stroked the blonde curls between Grace's thighs, but then guided my hand to the same spot. Shortly after that, I found both my hands cupping the soft lips of each woman and then the slippery wetness inside their portals. They were not to leave that as their only arousal though. Each was gently caressing the breasts and teats of the other while my finger stroked the rippled inner lips and little button of each. Their hands, sometimes both at once, on my cock was causing me to thrust into their gentle grasp. After a few of these strokes, and I confess, a few moans from me, Elizabeth threw her thigh over me and then rose on her knees. I felt Grace grasp my rigid cock and then the wet warmth as my cock entered Elizabeth's portal. The fit was snug, snug enough I again groaned. Elizabeth chuckled and continued to ease her body down over my cock. When she was sitting on my thighs, I saw Grace pinch Elizabeth's left nipple and then give it a little tug. Elizabeth's body jerked and she moaned, then began raising and lowering herself over my cock. With every lowering, she would rock her hips and I would feel the little button raking down the topside of my cock. The change in angle also forced my cock into intimate contact with the ripples of Elizabeth's passage. I was coming rapidly to the point of no return, when Elizabeth gasped, pushed herself down quickly over my cock and then dropped down to catch her weight on her hands. I felt a flow of wetness and then the tightening of her portal around my shaft. Elizabeth cried out and then began rocking her body rapidly over my cock. I could hold back no longer and thrust my cock up quickly. As Elizabeth continued to rock her body and make little mewing sounds, I filled her gripping passage with my seed. After several moments, Elizabeth rolled to her side. She was still breathing rapid, shallow breaths, but she managed to say, "Grace, this tool is indeed an excellent tool. Let us cause it to stand up again that you may sample this man's skills." I was not hopeful my cock would stand up very quickly again. After satisfying Emily's desires three times and now satisfying Elizabeth, I felt it would take an hour or more. I had not estimated the shortening of time caused by what Elizabeth and Grace did next. Grace climbed over me to lie beside Elizabeth, and promptly took Elizabeth's right nipple between her lips and began to suckle. Elizabeth's belly tightened and she gasped, but then began using her finger to penetrate Grace's sex. Soon, Grace was moaning and rocking her hips into Elizabeth's finger. That was when the two women kissed, and that kiss was so absolutely erotic, my cock began to swell again. It continued to swell as I watched Elizabeth lift her head and clasp Grace's left teat between her lips. Grace shuddered a little, then shuddered a lot because when Elizabeth opened her lips, I saw she had Grace's teat pinched between her teeth. Elizabeth pulled her face back slightly, Grace shuddered again, and then whispered, "Johnathan, I am ready for your cock now." I had assumed Grace would either mount me as had Elizabeth or lid down on her back, but she did neither. She rose onto her hands and then spread her legs wide. Elizabeth urged me to a position behind Grace, and then guided my cock to Grace's portal. As I sank into her satin smooth and rippled passage, Elizabeth lay down and scooted her head under Grace's breasts. As I pumped away inside Grace, I could hear the wet noises that could only mean Elizabeth was suckling Grace's teats. A moment later, Grace shuddered as she had before and pushed her body back into my stroke quickly enough my sack bumped against her mound. I could only assume that Elizabeth was once again nipping at Grace's teats. While the stimulation of Grace's snug portal and rippled passage were extremely arousing, that stimulation was muted a bit by my having spent my seed once already. As a result, I continued to pump my cock in and out of Grace and Grace continued to moan and thrust her body back into my strokes. That changed some time later when I felt a finger massaging the little button between Grace's thick, swollen lips and just under my stroking cock. Not long after I felt that finger, Grace arched her back, cried out, and began to sink down on the bed. I held her up with both hands as her thighs quivered, and at the same time as Grace began to rock her portal over my cock, I let the first spurt fly up my shaft and inside her. Grace's thighs were yet quivering as a leaf in a breeze when I shot my last. After my cock slipped from the slippery embrace of Grace's passage, she fell down on the bed, rolled onto her back, and sighed. "Such a tool would be welcome were it not attached to a man, though I could welcome this man to our house for longer than one morning. Perhaps a week might satisfy my desire to feel a man inside me." Elizabeth stroked Grace's mound and then kissed her on the lips. When Elizabeth pulled away, she smiled. "I am certain he will leave us, but perhaps he would consent to pay us a visit in the future. Now that we have taught him about two women, he might welcome the opportunity to exercise his new skills."; I did have to leave if I was to reach Whitchurch before the weekend. It was with some reluctance that I did so, but also with some relief. While making love with both Grace and Elizabeth had been an experience well worth remembering, I feared that I could not give equal attention to them both in the longer term. At some point, I would anger one by seeming to favor the other, and that would mean an end to their arrangement. It was also a relief for my poor cock. In two days, I had asked much of it, and though it had performed admirably according to the women, I felt a rest was very much in order. To that end, as I continued my journey towards Whitchurch, I was careful to stop only at the various inns along the roadway. These stops proved to be more to the advantage of my purse, as the inns made rough usage of their pots and pans. I was able to add twelve pence to my coin after stopping at three inns. At last, six days after beginning my journey, I pushed my cart through the streets of Whitchurch and then on toward my old home.; My arrival was greeted with some fanfare. My father shook my hand and told me he was proud of my accomplishment. My mother embraced me until I thought I should die from lack of breath, and she fairly soaked my shirt with her tears. My brother, Edward, wiped the muck from his hands on his trousers and then embraced me as well, though he shed no tears. That evening, my mother prepared a dinner that was an especial favorite of mine, a chicken pot pie filled with the meat of a hen, the yolks of the immature eggs of the same hen, and pease and carrots. While I was happy to be home with my family again, I had no desire to continue living with them. I was now a grown man and had the skills to earn my own way in life instead of being an imposition upon my parents. There was also the issue of proximity to potential customers. I did not have sufficient funds to arrange for a shop of my own in the nearest town, that being Whitchurch. I would have to ply my trade as my title suggested. A journeyman was so named because he journeyed around a given area offering his skills. Living with my family would require pushing my cart an unnecessary distance each day. Toward both ends, I walked to Whitchurch the next day with the goal of securing boarding for myself. Whitchurch would become my new home as well as the center of my travels through the countryside. Finding a suitable accommodation was not difficult. Finding a suitable accommodation with a suitable price was somewhat more of a challenge. What I desired was one room with a bed and the availability of a meal, morning and evening. My expectation, developed by an understanding of the amount of work done by Master Eaton and the relative size of the area around Whitchurch compared to Honiton, was that my income would be about six pence a day, or the sum of three shillings a week. I was prepared to pay half that for my room and board, the other half being saved for purchase of a proper shop. I was able to find several rooms at the price of two shillings a week, but I declined to take up those proposals. It was late in the afternoon and I was preparing to return to my father's home when I chanced upon a small paper notice attached to the door of a small house at the very edge of Whitchurch. The paper proclaimed a room was available in that house for the price of a shilling and a half per week. Upon seeing this notice, I presented myself at the door. The woman who answered my knock was not as I had expected. Most rooms available were in houses owned by older people. They had no source of income other than furnishing a room or two for those unable to afford the price of a house. It was that situation which I sought, for older people were generally quiet types and would not disturb me as would a couple with several children. This woman was not so old as I had thought would be the case. Neither, however, was she young. I could discern that by the lines at her eyes and the corners of her mouth. What struck me as odd, concerning those fine lines, was the shape of her figure, or at least as much of her figure as I could imagine given her dress. The slope of her breasts peeked from under the neckline of her bodice and her waist was smaller by far than her hips. At that hour of the day, most husbands would have been at home and waiting to dine on an even meal, but I could see the table in her kitchen was set for just one place. She was evidently unmarried, and the reason was most likely her face. She was not what I would describe as an ugly woman. It was more that her eyes seemed to be very open and her nose very large. I believed her to be one of those women not pretty enough to attract the attentions of a suitor when young. Such women were not all that rare, and often passed through life alone. After a certain age, such women were nearing the end of their child bearing years and a man wanted sons to carry on after him. I was very curious to learn of her past, though, of course, I could not ask that question as I had just met her. I introduced myself and inquired as to if the room was still available. The woman said it was and led me through her home to a small room at the back. "This used to be my father's room", she said. "He went to his reward last month." As he and my mother had no son, the house became mine. I am lonely of a night, and decided to let out his room that I might have some company." I was not looking for company of an evening, but the price was very tempting. I asked the woman if a morning and evening meal would be included in the price. She nodded. "My fare will not be that of the wealthy in Whitchurch, but you shall not starve." The bargain was struck that very afternoon. I returned home for my cart and other belongings, and by nightfall, I was sitting upon the bed in my room and planning my activities for the next day.; Over the next several weeks, I learned once again the wisdom of my father. Whitchurch, being rather small as cities go, had no tinker in residence. As a result, the women of Whitchurch and the surrounding area were forced to use pots and pans with rusted places or purchase new. Rusted places in some cases spoiled the taste of food, and though the new factories were producing new pots and pans at lower cost than most Master tinkers, the price was still high considering most household incomes. I was able to increase my purse more quickly than I had planned, and was looking forward to perhaps another year or two before I could afford the rental for a small shop. Now, also because Whitchurch was small and most people knew what the others were doing, I was very careful not to engage in the activities I had enjoyed with Emily, Elizabeth, and Grace. Such carryings on would have ruined my business if not had me cast out of the city. I did yearn to dip my wick in many of the women I encountered in my travels though, and the opportunity did present itself upon several occasions. The wife of the town blacksmith seemed particularly interested in

The Tinker’s Career: Part 3 On My Own. Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected. The heavy heart I had upon leaving Honiton and Estelle brightened some as I walked along the road. The day was warm and sunny, and I had a feeling of freedom I'd not had for six years. During my apprenticeship, it was a requirement that I eat, sleep, and work according to the schedule of Master Eaton. His schedule even dictated the times when Estelle and I might engage in the skills she taught me, for we could do so only when he was absent from the workshop. Now, I could do as I wished. Were I to desire a nap in mid-afternoon, all I need do was wheel my cart under the trees, lie down and go to sleep. Were I to feel hungry, no matter what the time of day, I had only to reach into my cart for a crust of bread and a smearing of butter. I did restrain from these practices for the most part. I had only enough food to sustain me for a week, and I did so desire to begin my work amongst the farm people that I traveled from dawn to dusk. I did miss Estelle's soft warm body against mine, especially so at night when I spread my blankets on the ground. Often I fell asleep thinking of her soft breasts in my hands while my cock stroked in and out of her cunny. While our couplings were not so frequent as I came to desire, they were made even more wonderful by the intervals between them. The walking and pushing of my cart would be slow, I had thought, but I found my pace nearly that of the coach that had brought me from Whitchurch to Honiton. This was because I need not slow my pace for a particularly rugged stretch of road. I merely steered around the offending pocks and continued on my way. As I walked, I contemplated how I would go about selling my skills to the people of the farms. They knew nothing of me and it was likely they would not trust me for there were tricksters who also roamed the roads. I composed a short little ditty I would use to announce my arrival, tell the people of my skills, and ask if they had any work. I came upon a cottage a day and a half after leaving Honiton, and upon nearing the door, I began my song. I am a happy tinsmith I travel through the land To mend your pots and other things I am the tinker man Round and deep or shallow With holes both large and small Bring them to my tinker's cart And I will mend them all The door to the cottage was open to allow in the breeze, and once I had begun my ditty a second time, a woman walked out onto the stoop. She was an older woman, or at least she appeared to be older than Estelle. Her face had the lines I had seen in my mother's face, and there were a few silver strands showing in the black hair that she had done up in a bun. Her dress, save for the color, was the same type of dress Estelle had always worn, being high at the neck and low at the hem. Unlike Estelle, this woman wore no slippers. She looked at me with a suspicious eye. "Who is this who sings at my doorstep about mending pots?" I bowed, then smiled. "I am Johnathan Harrison Erickson, Ma'am, and I am a tinker. Have you any pots that require mending?" "Yes, I have one or two. What is your price?" I had given the matter of price some considerable thought. In Honiton, the usual price for mending a small spot was two pence, three for a larger spot. Having come from a rural background, I thought these prices somewhat high for those living on a farm. I had established prices that would pay for my time and materials, but not be so high as to cause my customers to reconsider. "A pence for a small spot, a pence and a half pence for a larger one. Should the mending require adding a piece of tin plate, the price would vary." "What is a small spot and what is a large spot?" I smiled again. "I would have to inspect the spot, of course, but a large spot I would consider one a bit larger than a finger." She shook her head. "I am a widow woman, and have little coin. I think I shall continue to use my pots as they be." As I had traveled, I had also considered this possibility. While increasing my purse was the ideal outcome of my work, some of that purse would be required to purchase food that I might eat on a regular basis. If my customers had no coin, they would probably have oats or a slab of bacon they could spare. "Ma'am, if you would be so kind as to offer something in the way of grains or meats, that payment would be also acceptable." Her face brightened. "I could fix you a meal. I have an ham and some pease from last night." I had not eaten so well since leaving the workshop, and the prospect of a good meal made my mouth water. "That would be acceptable, Ma'am. Bring out your pots." The woman went inside and returned with a large kettle and two small pots. It was a quick matter to mend the pots, just a small dam and some tin solder to each. The kettle was somewhat more of a problem. The tin was gone from a large area of the bottom and when I pressed on this area, the iron gave way and left a hole. I would have to add a patch of tin plate. The woman watched as I cut the patch, formed it to the contours of the kettle and then soldered it into place inside and out. She smiled as I handed her the kettle. "That one is a favorite of mine. You know your trade well, I think. Come inside while I heat the ham and pease." Her kitchen was small with a stove at one end and a small table at the other. She pointed to a chair at the table. "That chair is where my husband sat to take his meals. It will give me pleasure to see a man sitting there again." Once the ham and pease had been warmed, the woman sat a bowl full in front of me and then handed me a spoon. She sat on the opposite side of the table while I finished that bowl, and then asked if I would like another. I should have politely answered no, but I did so enjoy the flavor. She smiled when I handed her the bowl and went to refill it. When she returned, she remarked that I ate as had her husband. "He would empty a bowl and then ask for more, sometimes twice. He was a man, he was, tall and strong of back. Would that he were still here, for I miss the things he used to do." I swallowed a mouthful of pease and then asked what those things might be. She smiled and her eyes seemed to gleam. "Oh, a great many things. My Jacob tended the farm, of course, though my son does that work now. There were other things as well. He carried the wood and water, and ploughed the garden in spring, and ; She smiled coyly. "Of course, I can not tell you everything he did for me. You would not understand." My reply was that I was nearly twenty, and had no trouble understanding most things. She smiled. "Do you understand the ways of men with women? It is of that which I speak." I had not anticipated such a question, and especially not given the difference in our ages. If the woman had a son old enough to tend to the farming, she was surely forty or better while I was still just nineteen. She sat there smiling while I contemplated my situation, and when I did not answer, smiled at me. "It appears you are somewhat shy in answering me. That tells me you do understand. Perhaps I can convince you to demonstrate your skills at that task as well. My husband has been gone four years now, and I crave a man's touch. Would you be the man to ease that craving?" She began unbuttoning the top of her dress. When the button at her waist was released, she opened the dress and smiled again. Her breasts were at least half again as large as Estelle's and though they sat lower on her chest, were causing my cock to rise. I knew not what to make of this invitation. "Ma'am, I do not think it would be correct of me to do so. You do not know me and I do not know you." She chuckled. "Ah, you wish an introducing first. Very well. I am Emily Stoat, and you gave me your name earlier." She stood and walked to face me. After taking my hand and placing it upon her heavy, right breast she said, "Johnathan, now we know each other." I confess the yielding softness under my fingertips took away all my reasoning power. Gently I squeezed that softness and Emily caught her breath. "Your hand may be a tinker's hand, but it would appear it is also the hand of a lover. Is your other hand so gentle?" I lifted her other breast, squeezed it gently, and then lightly stroked the thick teat. Emily said no more. She merely grasped my hand and pulled me through a door on one wall of her kitchen. Upon removing my clothes and lying on the bed beside her naked body, I marveled at her shape. As I related before, I knew her breasts were much larger than Estelle's. I anticipated the same difference in the girth of her waist and hips. While Emily was somewhat larger in both places, the increase in size was not in the same proportion. Her waist was a bit thicker and her hips were wider, but the increase only increased my desire for her. In fact, I found myself becoming aroused at a faster rate just from the looking. Emily noticed my arousal as well. She smiled, grasped my rigid cock, and stroked it a little, then chuckled. "I wonder if you wield this tool as well as you wield your hammer. Pray show me if your skills with the ladies match your skills at mending pots." I am proud to say I did my best, though such was not a difficult task. Emily proved to be as avid a lover as Estelle, though in somewhat different ways. While Estelle preferred my attentions to her breasts and teats began softly and increased as did her state of arousal, Emily was more forthright. As soon as I bent my head and took her teat into my mouth, Emily sighed. "Ah, my young tinker, suckle as the calf suckles the cow and do not fear of causing me harm. 'twill only increase my passions." Suckle I did and with a somewhat greater vigor than I had with Estelle. The rapid motions seemed to excite Emily very quickly, so quickly that she bade me use two fingers in her cunny. Once my fingers were in her warm portal, Emily adjusted her position somewhat and then sighed. "Lad, your fingers do so arouse my passions. Were you to add a third, I would become aroused even more." I did as she asked, but was fearful of injuring the soft portal into which I guided a third finger. Emily sighed as it entered her, then rocked up her wide hips a little. As a result, my three fingers were soon stopped by my hand pressing against Emily's puffy cunny lips and she moaned. "Oh, lad, for so long I have been denied the feeling of having my cunny stretched so. Already I feel my nectar flowing and the need to feel your cock inside me. Pray, stroke a while more and then impale me on your rod." I confess that I probably did not stroke Emily so long as she desired, but I was overwhelmed by the way she did move her body to force my three fingers deeper inside her. She did not stop me when I knelt between her upraised thighs and attempted to guide my cock to her portal though. Instead, she grasped my shaft and moved it between her swollen lips for a while, then positioned the head at her entrance. "Now, Johnathan, fill my cunny with your stiff cock and do not be gentle about it. My husband was a man and it is a man I need inside me now." I did as best I could and quickly thrust my cock into Emily's wet and slippery depths. She moaned and jerked her cunny up into that thrust. When my sack bumped against her bottom, she moaned again. "That is the way a man takes a woman, lad. Continue with such thrusts that I may reach my end. It would cause me great pleasure if you were to give my teats some soft bites as well." When I made my first thrust, I was somewhat concerned that if her cunny could accept three of my fingers the grip of her passage would not be so snug as that of Estelle. Such proved not to be the case however. As soon as my cock began to penetrate Emily's depths I felt a tightening around my rigid shaft. I knew not what caused that tightening, but I was well aware of the effect. I was not aware of how pinching Emily's teats between my teeth would cause her to react, and that reaction was very interesting. At the first pinch, Emily gasped and I felt her belly tighten under mine. I also felt the grip of her cunny tighten more, a feeling that caused me to edge much closer to my final end. As I continued to thrust my cock in and out of Emily's gripping cunny and as I alternately suckled and pinched her teats with my teeth, I felt Emily's juices flowing around my cock and down onto my sack. I also heard her little mewing cries and felt her fingers on my backside and attempting to pull my cock inside her deeper. I was very near my end when Emily sucked in a deep breath, held that breath, and by pushing with her heels lifted us both up off the mattress. I felt the squeezing of my cock relax, then tighten over and over again as Emily let her face flop to the side. Her soft thighs squeezed my waist and then began to quiver. I made one last, firm pinch of her left teat between my teeth and Emily's body became a shuddering sheath that forced me to yield my seed deep inside her. I confess I moaned as the first spurt splashed into her depths, then moaned twice more as my stiff cock spurted. Emily continued to cause her cunny to milk at my cock even though I was spent. After a time, she slowly fell back to the bed, but held me between her thighs. She stroked my back, and sighed. "Ah, such a man I have not felt since my husband went to his reward. Would that I could keep you here, for I wish to feel this way again." While I would have greatly enjoyed staying with Emily, my primary goal was to return to the place of my birth and begin my shop. I did cause Emily to have those feelings two more times before departing though, once later that night and again very early the next morning. As the sun shone it's rays over the trees around Emily's house, she held me close and said her door would always be open to me. I confess that it was with a heavy heart that I pushed my cart on down the road.; I traveled for half a day before stopping in a grove of trees beside the road for a noon meal. That noon meal was a slice of ham Emily had forced me to take though I told her she had more than settled her accounts with me. She only smiled and said the slice of ham was for my exercise of my other skills. As I munched on the thick slab, I reflected that both my skills gave me great pleasure. I also realized that exercising the skills I had learned from Estelle were somewhat tiring when practiced several times in a short period. I had finished half the slice of ham when I was overcome by fatigue and fell asleep leaning against the wheel of my cart. When I woke, the sun was halfway to dropping below the trees. The delay at Emily's, though a very pleasant delay, had cost me nearly half a day of travel. After vowing that I should not be so tempted again, I began pushing my cart down the road. The sun was nearly behind the trees that lined the roadway when I spied a small farm ahead. Having grown up on a farm, I knew it would be fruitless to call at the house at this hour of the day. The woman of the house would be cooking supper for her husband and her husband would be attending to the chores of the farm such as gathering the hens into their coop and then feeding the livestock. I did resolve to make my call on the morrow after I had seen the man of the house go off to the fields to work. To that end, I pushed my cart up to the house and then some distance from the roadway and after lighting a fire in the stove I used to heat the copper iron I used for soldering, made myself a small serving of oat porridge. Upon eating that along with a small bit of my ham slice, I put out the fire, got my blankets from my cart, and prepared to take my slumbers. Sleep was difficult to achieve, I would suppose because of my nap at my noon meal, so I lay there on my blanket and listened to the sounds of the night. It was the night of a full moon, so the darkness usual inside the trees was greatly diminished, so diminished that I could plainly see the house sitting across the roadway. Contrary to what I had always experienced at my old home, light from a flickering candle still lit the single window I could see. As my eyes refused to close, I rose and ventured toward the roadway as I was curious about that lighted window. I saw nothing but shadows against a wall inside until the sound of the door to the house opening came to my ears. Someone was leaving the house. At first, I was concerned that I had been discovered, but as it was, it was only the lady of the house making a trip to the privy. In the light of the full moon, I could plainly see her in her white night dress, candle lantern in hand, and striding toward the small privy to the side of the house. I thought nothing of this as it was Estelle's custom to do likewise before retiring. A short time later, the privy door opened and the woman made her way back to the house. I had no sooner heard the door close than it was opened again. My assumption was this would be the man of the house bent upon the same task, but I was mistaken. The person was another woman in a white night dress on her way to the privy. She was carrying the same candle lantern. I knew this because of the distinctive piercings above the glass windows. At first, I thought this second person to be probably a daughter, but as I observed her trip, I was struck by the fact that she did not appear or move as would a young girl. She was as tall as the first woman and her wide hips made the same motion as the first. A daughter to the first woman might be as tall as her mother or even taller, but she would not have the wider hips I had witnessed both Estelle and Emily to have. After the second woman had returned to the house, I expected to see the man of the house next, but no such event occurred. The candle light in the window was extinguished and I assumed the women had gone to bed. I went back to my blankets wondering at what I had just seen. It was common in the countryside for a husband's or wife's mother to live with the woman and her husband once her own husband had gone to his reward, but neither woman appeared old enough to have birthed the other. I had never heard of two women living together because such was just not done. A farm required a man to be successful. Women did not understand the working of draft animals nor the husbandry of livestock save possibly the hens that furnished them eggs and the occasional chicken dinner. Was it possible the man of the house had two wives? This again was not possible. Even in the countryside, people had a very strict moral code. Now, I knew that in Honiton, t

The Tinker’s Career: Part 2 Estelle’s Training. Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected. "I feel a wetness." Estelle sighed as my fingertip again stroked between her puffy outer lips. "Yes, it is because you are arousing my passions. The flow will increase as I become more excited. It is so to ease the passage of your cock when that time comes." I confess I was ready for that time to come at that moment, but refrained from acting upon that urge. Instead, I continued my examination of Estelle's cunny, for having never seen one, I was very curious. I parted her lips and saw inside another pair of lips. They were much more slender and were an exciting series of ripples that originated at the soft fold of skin at the top of her cunny, the same soft fold I had touched before. As my fingertip traced between those ripples, they seemed to grasp and flow around it. Estelle would also make a tiny little mewing sound with each touch. As Estelle had predicted, I soon saw a small amount of her slippery/sticky fluid flow from between the lips I stroked. She moaned then, and reached for my hand. "One finger now; inside my portal; and move it in and out." I was not certain where such a portal might be located, but reasoned the fluid must originate from that spot. Slowly I moved my fingertip down, probing gently as I did so, until it slipped into a spot that seemed to mold itself around the finger. As I began moving that finger in and out as Estelle had instructed, her hips rocked and she moaned again. "Yes, Johnathan; that is the way. You stir my fires as they have not been stirred in some time. Pray add another finger to the one that gives me so much pleasure." The second finger was a snug fit and I was somewhat concerned about injuring Estelle. I inserted it slowly, and when it joined the first in her warm, wet depths, began stroking both in and out. Estelle rocked her hips again, then began lifting her body into each push of my hand. I felt Estelle's hand on my thigh and looked down. As I watched, she slipped her slender fingers up my thigh and then grasped my rigid cock and began stroking its length. To say that was pleasant would be to say a downpour is slightly damp. My mind was nearly carried away with the sensations she caused with her soft fingers. I knew what was to come soon, and wished she would instruct me to plunge my cock inside her lest I spill my seed on her hand. She stroked me at the same pace as I moved my fingers in and out of her cunny for a while, then pulled on my stiff cock. "Put your cock in my cunny now and move it as you do your fingers." Estelle opened her thighs wide as I knelt between them, and pulled at my cock to guide it to the opening. Once she found the place with my swollen cock, she pulled on it again. I, in turn, pushed in. The feeling of my cock slipping into her slippery warmth was indescribable. Estelle pulled at my hips to push it deeper inside her, and kept pulling until I felt my sack touching the cleft between her hips. She gasped when the base of my cock spread her lips and flattened them against her body, then sighed when I began stroking. "Ah; it has been so long I am nearly at my end already." I was not certain what she meant, but continued to stroke my cock in and out. After only a few moments, I felt my sack tighten and the now familiar feeling that meant I would spew my seed. Knowing the inevitable outcome, I attempted to pull out of her clasping depths that my seed would not be squirted inside her. Estelle gasped, "No; inside me" and then began rocking her hips wildly. Controlling my actions then became an impossibility, for her gyrations had rendered any such attempt useless. Moments later, I felt the first spurt erupt from my cock when it was at its deepest penetration of her cunny. Estelle cried out then, and arched her back. My second spurt splashed inside her as she arched higher and then began such a quaking and rocking it was difficult to keep my cock inside her. I did manage in spite of all her motions. With a groan, I thrust my cock deep and shot the last spurt as she cried out and then fell back to the bed. Estelle wrapped her legs over my back then and held my cock inside her. She sighed and stroked my back. "Hmm; this first lesson was quite satisfying. You are an apt apprentice." "I only did as you instructed." "Yes, but you did so with the great vigor I enjoy. I believe I will have to give you another lesson shortly." And so Estelle did that night, two more lessons actually. For the second, she taught me of the ways to increase her passion by the rubbing of what she called her pearl. Once she had released me from the entrapment of her legs, I found that nub of flesh had come out from under a little fold of skin at the top of her cunny lips. It was very pink and very stiff, and when I touched it, Estelle nearly jumped into the air. "Oh, yes; gently now, but continue and I will soon want to be skewered on your wonderful cock again." The skewering did happen after a while, and Estelle proved to be even more active in her body movements. As I had already spent once, I was able to restrain myself, and continued to stroke my cock in and out of her swollen cunny lips until she cried out loudly and heaved herself up off the bed. The shaking of her body then was more than I could bear. My cock splattered her clasping passage with more of my seed. The third lesson was the same, except the duration was longer. I attributed this to the partial sating of Estelle's desire and to the fact I had spent most of the seed my body had stored. Still, the ending was every bit as wonderful as the first two, and left me gasping for breath as Estelle pulled me down on top of her. I felt her teats press into my chest as she held me tight. After a few moments, she chuckled. "I do believe you have a talent for this work." I also chuckled. "It was not work, Ma'am. Nothing so enjoyable could be called work." Estelle stroked my back. "Be that as it may, you have learned your skills well. Were the hour not late and were I not satisfied for the moment, we would have yet another lesson. I shall leave you for my own bed for now, but we shall continue our lessons when my husband is again away. Do not forget what you have learned tonight." Estelle then rose from my bed and clasped her hand over her cunny. She chuckled and remarked the next time she would bring a cloth to stop the flow of our juices from her body, then left my bedchamber for her own. I slipped under the blanket and thought of my new teaching. I was still somewhat fearful of her husband discovering the truth, but then realized Estelle had as much to fear as did I. Her husband would surely cast out both her and I were he to know of our coupling. That understanding caused my fears of discovery to wane, and I fell asleep knowing I would welcome any lessons she desired to teach me. Still, I was apprehensive for the next two days, but found my fears to be unfounded. Estelle greeted her husband upon his return with a kiss and an embrace, and fixed us a special dinner that evening. Though I watched carefully from the corners of my eyes, she did not so much as look at me through the course of the meal.; Master Eaton did inquire as to my progress with the manufacture of Estelle's new lantern and I showed him the various pieces I had shaped and filed. He was pleased and suggested I might make various piercings on the sides that the lantern would cast a pleasing pattern of light upon any surface near it when lit. There were several patterns for such piercings in the shop, but when I examined them, I found them not to my liking. Instead, I drew a new pattern of piercings that pleased me. Upon showing them to Master Eaton, he remarked they were unique and fit for the lantern of his wife. I set about using a sharp punch to make the series of small holes of the design in the four sides of the lantern above the openings for the glass panels.; Our business began to increase with the cool breezes and shorter days of autumn. The women of the village required new pans for baking of the usual holiday treats, and the waning daylight forced the use of lanterns even in the early evening. Master Eaton and I were busy in the shop from early light to dusk in fashioning these items. As a result, our supply of tin plate quickly required replacing. I had thought to go with him to the mill for I had never done so, but at the last market, all the pastry cutters we had were purchased and still the women wished for more. He instructed me to stay in the shop and make as many as possible for the next market day. I was happy with this decision for two reasons. I had the week prior to the market day fashioned a few cutters in the shape of the fir tree that would decorate each home during the Christmas season, and they were quickly sold for a price twice that for the normal round, oval, or star shaped cutters. They were simple to manufacture and required little more time than the other shapes, and it pleased me to know the women of the village wanted more. The other reason I was happy was that the mill was a day's travel by wagon. Master Eaton would leave at first light, drive throughout the day, and then purchase the new stock of tin plate late in the afternoon. The next morning, he would begin the journey home and arrive in the village as the sun was setting. I would have almost two days and one night for more of Estelle's lessons. True to my wishes, Master Eaton had only just climbed into the wagon seat and clucked to the horse when Estelle came into the workshop. "How is my apprentice this fine day?" "I am doing well, Ma'am. I would hope you are the same." Estelle sighed, but then smiled. "I am not, though I believe there to be a cure." I was certain I knew what that cure might be, and smiled. "Would I be able to assist with that remedy?" "Oh, most certainly you can. It is a remedy I have not yet taught you. It may require much practice before the remedy is effective." In my admittedly limited knowledge, I believed I understood the normal means of effecting that which Estelle desired. I was at a loss as to what she was saying. "Is there not but one remedy?" Estelle giggled. "Johnathan, you have much to learn. There are many remedies, all similar, but all different in some ways. Come. I shall teach you of two that please me greatly." Once in my bedchamber, Estelle lost no time in removing her clothing. As her loose, long legged under-trowsers fell from her hips and then to the floor, she chuckled. "The remedy requires you to be without clothing. I cannot teach you if you remain as you are. Surely you are not embarrassed after our earlier lessons." I was not embarrassed. I was only watching Estelle's breasts wobble about as she removed her clothing and thinking of how they had felt in my hands. I quickly pulled off my shirt, stepped out of my boots, and then unfastened my trousers. My cock bobbed in the air when I stepped from them, and Estelle chuckled again. "I think my apprentice is ready for the next lesson, for your cock stands at the ready. We shall begin by easing your desires a bit, for I see already a droplet of your essence. That and the flood that will follow cannot enter me this day or I shall quite likely become with child. Do not be sad. There is another way, a way I believe you will greatly enjoy." With that confusing statement, Estelle took me by the hand and bade me lie upon my bed. She sat down on the edge, then grasped my rigid cock and smiled. "On such days as this, a proper woman would do thusly." I watched, spellbound, as Estelle lowered her face to my cock, opened her mouth, and engulfed the swollen head. She sucked at it gently and then I felt her warm, wet tongue licking the underside. Estelle giggled when I groaned. "Is this not as I said? I believe you do enjoy my new method." She licked all around the darker head and caused me to groan. "Yes, it is quite wonderful." "I quite enjoy my method as well. Perhaps you will find this as pleasant." Estelle slowly lowered her mouth over my cock head and then down my shaft. I felt gentle suction when her cheeks moved inward and then the sensation of my cock head touching the back of her throat. My hips lurched upwards of their own accord, and only because of her small hand with which Estelle gripped my shaft did it not plunge deeper. Estelle giggled around her mouthful of my cock and then slowly pulled her lips back up the length. When she reached the rim of my cock head, she sucked a bit harder and swirled her tongue over the tip. My hips lurched again. Estelle's mouth pulled off my cock head with a little smack, and she looked up at me. "Shall I continue?" My hips lurched again because she was slowly stroking my shaft. The feeling was much more arousing than when I did the same. "As you said, your new methods might require practice to perfect, though I think you have already perfected this one." Estelle giggled and then circled my cock head with her wet mouth. I felt her hand stroking my shaft as she bobbed her head up and down, and then her other hand fondling my sack. At that time in my life, not much manipulation was required to bring me to my end, and that end was fast approaching. Estelle's stroking hands and her sucking mouth caused my sack to draw up, and I knew that meant I would spend. I attempted to warn her but she took no heed. "Estelle, I cannot stop myself." She only ceased her sucking and looked at my face. "Then do not. I shall enjoy what is to come." She resumed her stroking and sucking then, and I felt the end approaching. When I groaned again, Estelle thrust her sucking lips down my shaft until they met her hand and then pulled them back up. She did this rapidly several times before my loins exploded with the release of seed. As the first spurt left my throbbing cock, Estelle swallowed and then continued to swallow. The sensation of her throat closing on my cock head made me groan again as the second, then third and fourth spurt spewed from my body. I was shaking somewhat when I eased my thrusting hips back to the bed. Estelle sucked as she lifted her lips from my cock. After that same smacking sound as her lips formed around my cock head and then released it, she used her thumb and fingers to strip up my length. She caught the resulting drops on her tongue, slipped that tongue into her mouth and then swallowed again. "Umm; .I do love the taste of a man and his seed. We shall do this again presently, though you must learn another lesson first. As I enjoy your taste, you must learn to enjoy mine." Estelle lay down beside me then and pulled my hand to her breast. "Do as you did for our first lesson. Stroke my pillows and then my cunny. Once I am flowing with passion, I will teach you of what I speak." I am somewhat proud of the fact that flowing was not long in coming, for this was only my second attempt at applying the skills I had learned. Estelle's teats quickly rose long and taut under my tongue and lips, and shortly after I touched her rippled inner lips, I felt the slippery juices begin to flow. Estelle was breathing faster, and it was seemingly with difficulty she stopped her little moans in order to speak. "Oh, yes; you; you have caused the flow. Now, my able apprentice, kneel between my legs as before, but; oh; do not enter my cunny with your cock." "What am I to do then?" "Use your tongue to lick my folds and my pearl." To think of doing so was both fearful and exciting. I had witnessed the dogs on the estate doing the same, but had never given thought that people might do such a thing. Estelle seemed to want this, so I put my fears aside and knelt between her spread thighs. The hair on her lips glistened with her wetness, and as I had already separated the strands that my fingers might enter her, her swollen lips were visible and a little open. A scent came to my nose as I lowered my face to those lips, a scent I had never smelt before and a scent that made my already stiffening cock twitch. Tentatively I touched those swollen lips with the tip of my tongue. Estelle's juices were surprisingly pleasant to taste and I wasted no time in licking the length of her lips on the outside. She moaned and adjusted her position to open herself a little more. "All around the outside and then between", she sighed. It was with increasing pleasure I did as she asked. I found her outer lips to be very soft and a little puffy feeling. The slender lips hidden inside were even softer and rippled into folds. Both excited me greatly both for the wonderful texture as well as her musky and slightly tart taste. As I lapped away, Estelle seemed to flow from time to time. I would feel a slight lifting of her hips, and if I let my tongue move down, I was rewarded by the taste of her fresh juices. "My pearl now", she murmured between moans and gasps. What I had seen as a small hidden button was now swollen stiff. At the first touch of my tongue, Estelle gasped and lifted her body into my face. "Oh, yes; do not stop." I did not stop, for by that time, I had realized if I continued, Estelle would reach her end. Making her do so would give me great pleasure, I thought, even though I could not sheath my cock in her tight cunny. I licked the stiff little button until Estelle was beginning to thrash about on my bed. From my higher position now, I could look over the crinkled hairs on her mound and see Estelle's face. Her face was to the side and her mouth was open because she was panting. From time to time, she could close her mouth and then lick her lips, then resume her panting breaths. I thought the sight quite a beautiful one. My tongue happened to slip from the turgid tip and instead stroked the side. Estelle moaned and her body tensed. Reasoning that several types of licking might be better for her than only the one, I began sliding my tongue on each side, then the top, and then back to the tip. Estelle began lifting her hips regularly, just as she had done when she reached her end before. A moment later I felt her hands on my head. "Oh, Johnathan; I am nearly there. Suckle at my pearl and I shall reach that end." Though her pearl was small, I was able to seal my lips around it, and I then began to suckle. The effect upon Estelle was quite remarkable. She began to rise slowly by arching her back, and I felt her entire body grow tense. A few moments later, she gasped and her body rose even mor

The Tinker’s Career: Part 1 The adventures of a tinsmith's apprentice. Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected. I write this memoir to leave somewhat of a legacy to future generations, for my trade, like many, will no doubt be replaced by the mindless machines already in use for the making of pots, pans, and other tin plate work. Some will no doubt shake their heads at parts of this tale, though I make no excuses for it. Such has been my life so far, and it was a life lived to the fullest extent possible. To have done otherwise would mean I would suffer the regrets common to people who have lived a life of propriety until old age and therefore barren of excitement and adventure. I was born Johnathan Harrison Erickson in the year 1753 on the estates of one Baron Farnsworthy, my father being the manager of the crops and livestock at the estate. My early years are of little consequence save that I grew up, as do most boys, being full of adventure and fearing nothing. At the young age of twelve years I knew nothing of what I wished to do in life other than to chase the frogs in the brook and to roll hoops with my brother. I was happy doing so even though there were the occasional chores to be done around my father's household. It was expected that I would carry water to the sheep that provided a lamb for Easter dinner and wool my mother spun into clothing for us. I was also expected to gather eggs from the hen house every morning and evening. The gathering of eggs would have normally been a chore for young girls, but as I had no female siblings, the task fell to me. I did not mind the sheep. They were calm animals and would always come to my call in hopes of a morsel of the sweet cake of oats and molasses I sometimes brought them. True, were I to turn my back on the ram, he would often give my backside a jolt, but he did so in jest, or at least I believed such. The hens and the rooster I did not like. The hens seemed to be always moody and pecked at my hands when I tried to take the eggs from under them. The rooster was a massive bird with long spurs, and seemed to believe I was after his harem for some reason. If I did not watch carefully, he would fly at me and try to sink his spurs into my leg. Often I wished for a Sunday chicken dinner at which the rooster would be the main course. Upon my thirteenth birthday, my father informed me I was to leave home and learn a trade. He also explained that trade would be as a tinsmith, for he had arranged an apprenticeship for me with a Master Richard Eaton of Honiton in Cornwall. I would be indentured to Master Eaton for six years after which I would have attained the skills of a tinsmith and be able to earn a living for myself. I was somewhat put out by this news. By then, I was aware that while my father was not of the landed gentry, my family did not want as did some, and I had assumed I would follow in his footsteps in a few years for such had been the case with he and his father. To learn that not only was that occupation the one chosen for my younger brother, Edward, but that I was to be banished to a life some hundred miles away was quite a shock. I would suppose the reason to be one of intellect and constitution. Though a year younger than I, my brother stood a head taller and weighed half again as much. He was as strong as the bullocks he wrestled for the purpose of separating them from their knackers that spring. Strong though he was, he had no sense nor inclination toward mathematics or the manual arts. I, on the other hand, was of slight build and greatly enjoyed using my mind to guide my hands in the making of things. Mathematics came easily to me, and I easily learned the basic calculations for the length of iron to form a hoop of a certain size and to construct the various angles used by the blacksmith on the estate. In retrospect, my father's choice was a wise one. I now know I would not have enjoyed the life of a manager of the fields and livestock nearly so much as I have enjoyed the trade of tinker.; I did not understand this at the time of my departure from the estate and was greatly saddened to see the fine house, barns, and fields fade into the distance as my father drove the wagon to Whitchurch. It was just at first light, and I watched the cows walking toward the barn for their morning milking as the wagon went by their pasture. Boys of my age did not shed tears over something so small as leaving home, though it was with great difficulty I did not do so. In Whitchurch, my father purchased me a passage upon a coach to Honiton, the village in Cornwall where Master Eaton's shop was located. The journey was to take three days, and after some conversation and the exchange of some coin, the coach driver agreed to guide me through the trip. I was also to sit beside him in his perch high above the horses. After the first mile, I was happy for that open, but secure seat. Several of the coach passengers rode on the roof, for the fare for those seats was much lower than for the padded seats inside. For the reduction in fare, they had exchanged a soft cushion for the hard, wooden roof of the coach, and the comfort of being inside for holding on with all their might to the railing around the roof lest they fall. It was indeed necessary to hold tight to something, for the roadway was not at all smooth and level, being pocked here and there with shallow holes and depressions. As these often occurred on each wheel at a different time, the coach was jostled about in a fearful manner. The driver seemed to ignore these pits, and kept encouraging his team to the trot. At this breakneck speed, the jostling was enough to loosen one's teeth or so it seemed. Many times I heard the two ladies inside the coach cry out in fear as a coach wheel dropped into a particularly deep hole and then climbed back out. Our first stop was at a way station just outside Andover. At this station, the horses were changed. It was told to me by the coachman this was a new practice. Before, he would have driven his team the ten miles from Whitchurch and then stopped to rest them for an hour. By the changing of the horses, we would be on our way again in only the time required to lead the tired team from the coach and then hook up the traces of the new team. Indeed, this was the case, and I had time only for a drink of water before climbing to the coachman's box again. He spoke to the new team and cracked his whip, and we were again off. The rest of the journey is not worth relating save that the ride continued to be harsh, the food bad and the sleeping accommodations worse. After paying my three pence for the first night's lodging and seeing the scurrying insects when I pulled back the blanket, I joined the coachman on one of the seats inside the coach for my sleeping place.; Our arrival in Honiton was likewise uneventful. I dismounted the driver's box with my small bag of belongings and began looking for Master Eaton. In his letter to my father, he had said he would wear a red shirt. I quickly spied him sitting on a bench in front of the station and went to introduce myself. Master Eaton looked old to me at the time, but such is the way the young view adults I would suppose. I later learned he was forty-one at the time, and had worked many years as a journeyman to earn the title of Master. He seemed to be a stern man. As my apprenticeship progressed, I found this was the case, but that he was also a fair man in his appraisal of my work. After confirming my name, he walked me to the shop attached to one side of his house. Though I did not know what to expect, his shop seemed small in comparison to the blacksmith's shop on the estate. It was indeed smaller, but I soon learned it was of the appropriate size for the few tools used by a tinsmith. There was a large table used for the laying out and cutting of the tin plate with a large shear at one end. The only other equipment I saw were two devices of iron shaped like the letter "T" stuck into holes in sections of log and what appeared to be a small stove. Of more of a surprise was his wife. Upon seeing her in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, I thought her to be his daughter, for she looked very much younger than he. Master Eaton introduced her as his wife, Estelle. She smiled at me and then went back to her work. Master Eaton then showed me the quarters which would be mine for the duration of my apprenticeship. It was a very small room, more of a large closet really, and directly across the hall from the bedchamber he and Estelle used.; As my apprenticeship was six years and the first four were only my learning the simpler tasks of the trade, it would be somewhat boring to relate those first four years here. Suffice it to say I spent nearly a year at sweeping up the workshop, cleaning the small stove, and filing parts to remove the sharp edges left by the shears. My day began at first light with a breakfast of oats and cream, and ended when the sunlight coming into the workshop through the windows had waned enough it was difficult to see to work. A supper came after a washing up, and then it was off to bed. Only Saturday and Sunday were different. Saturday was market day, and Master Eaton and I would load his wagon with pails, lanterns, and pots and pans, and then go to the village market to sell them. I was expected to demonstrate the features of each to customers and to announce the price when asked. After a day at the market, we would come back to the workshop. I would again clean up and arrange things while Master Eaton counted the proceeds of the sales. On Sundays, we did not work. Master Eaton was a pious man, and insisted upon my attendance at church in the mornings. The afternoons were mine to use as I wished, though since I had no coin, I could only enjoy a walk by the river or a trip through the town to see the sights.; After that first year, Master Eaton taught me to do simple layouts and to use the hand shears. I thought this to be a great achievement at first. After spending hours upon hours laying out and then cutting the ears for pail and lantern handles, I wished for something more. Gradually over that year and the next two, Master Eaton taught me the proper use of the tools in the workshop. By the fourth year of my training, I could make pastry cutters in various designs for sale to the local women. These small cutters were used to cut the dough used for biscuits and tea crackers into pleasing shapes. They were a joy to make, for I was able to use my own designs as well as the standard stars, circles, and ovals. It was with some pride I manufactured pastry cutters in the shape of the waning moon and the snowmen I had drawn on paper as a child.; On my eighteenth birthday, Master Eaton instructed me to make a new candle lantern for Estelle as my first major undertaking. She used the lantern to light her way should she need to use the privy after dark. Her old lantern did not yield much light, for the panes were not of glass but of horn scraped thin enough to be mostly transparent. She wished for one with glass panes. The pattern was to be the same, so I would take her lantern after breakfast, use it during the day to take measurements and to confirm how it was assembled, and then return it to her at dinner. I was very careful in constructing the lantern, because it was a test of my skills by Master Eaton, and also because of its intended owner. When I first arrived at Master Eaton's workshop, I viewed Estelle as somewhat an ordinary woman. She was not in my estimation a particularly pretty woman though she did have a very pleasant smile and I did like the way in which her long dark-brown hair flowed over her shoulders. Her cooking was very good as were her efforts to maintain a clean house and to care for her husband. On Saturday of every week she changed the sheets on the beds, including those on mine, then washed them and hung them on the lines behind the house to dry. The other days of the week she occupied her time with other housework or the sewing of clothing for herself, Master Eaton, and once I came to live in the house, for me. I confess that as I grew older, I began to look upon Estelle in a different way. I began thinking she was a prettier woman than I had at first thought, and by the time I reached the age of eighteen, had discovered her to have a very arousing figure. I could not see much of her curves, of course. The propriety of the day dictated that women not expose themselves to any save their husband. She did have some ways of working, however, that tightened her bodice to her breasts or outlined the curve of her rounded backside when she assumed certain positions. I was always watching from the corner of my eye for one of these positions. Estelle seemed not to notice my observations. She continued to bend at the waist in front of me when setting my bowl on the table at meal times. Doing so would cause her breasts to well up to the top of her dress, and the soft mounds would draw my eyes and fill my head with thoughts of touching them. She would bend at the waist when retrieving something from her oven as well, and the way her dress outlined her shapely hips caused similar thoughts. Those thoughts usually caused a rising in my trousers. I understood the rising and its purpose, for I had seen the same rising by the ram each spring. His organ would extend from his sheath as he nuzzled a ewe who seemed to be agreeable to his attentions. He would then mount her and thrust his organ through her swollen portal and pump away for a while. My father had explained this was the way the ram planted his seed in the ewe. I had no actual teachings in how this might be accomplished by people, though I assumed it to be much the same, for I had witnessed the same event with the cattle and the horses on the estate. I thought surely women must have a similar entrance though I had never seen a woman in such a state of undress that I might do a proper inspection. I could only imagine how such an entrance might appear every time Estelle bent to get some item from a low shelf or her oven. It was often I imagined such of an evening, and stroked my manhood in an attempt to simulate what I imagined how coupling with a woman would feel. The first time seed erupted from the tip, I gasped, for the sensation was quite overpowering. It was also very pleasant, and from that day forth, I would exercise my imagination when visiting the privy. Those visits were very pleasurable, though I felt the act would be even more so when done as nature intended. Alas, though I saw several girls of my age as they accompanied their mothers into the workshop to purchase a new pail or pan, I was somewhat backward with the ladies. They were a mystery to me, a mystery that tied my tongue into knots when I attempted to speak to them.; As I related earlier, Estelle sewed the clothing we wore every day. She was an excellent seamstress, though my trousers and shirts tended to be loose fitting at first. Her reasons for the fit was that I was growing taller and broader through the shoulders, and were the fit proper at first, I would quickly be stretching her seams to the breaking point. She would size my clothing by using a string to obtain the various lengths and circumferences required, and then lay the string upon a rule and record the actual dimension. I was eighteen and a half when she came to the workshop one afternoon. Master Eaton happened to be away at the rolling mill to purchase a supply of tin plate that day. I was taking the measurements for Estelle's new lantern at the time. Estelle smiled and said my trousers were nearly worn through at the knees and she would make me a new pair. She produced her measuring string and began. Estelle wrapped her string around my waist as she had in the past, but her fingers seemed to trace from my sides to my belly in a somewhat different manner. I took little notice of this as her interruption would cost me half an hour of working time and Master Eaton had given me a required date for the completion of her lantern. Estelle pinched the string between her fingers, then laid it on her rule and noted the length on a small piece of paper. Then, she used her string to measure from my waist to my ankles. Again, her fingertips seemed to trace the path of the string, and this time, I felt a twinge in my manhood. She recorded that measurement as she had for my waist and then proceeded to measure from my ankle to my crotch. She had never made this measurement in the past and I wondered at the reason. She smiled at my expression. "Boys do not require so loose a fit as men. As you are nearly a man, I must increase the fit that you may be comfortable." I understood her meaning and thought this to be a reasonable explanation, though my manhood and sack had been of a quite larger size for some time now. That there might be a different reason did not occur to me until she made the measurement. With her left hand, Estelle held the end of her string at my ankle. She asked me to spread my legs a little, and once I had done so, her right paid out the string as she slowly moved her hand upwards. Her fingers brushed the inside of my thigh and I felt that same stirring in my manhood. They moved further up, still slowly, until they touched my sack. My manhood gave a lurch that pushed out the front of my trousers. I was quite embarrassed, but Estelle seemed not to notice. When she turned to do the recording, I quickly pushed my manhood to an upright position and somewhat relived the bulge in my trousers. Estelle made the measurement several times, saying she wished to be certain of the dimension. I was certain she would notice how my erect manhood still bulged my trousers since her hand touched it with each measuring attempt, but she said nothing. After she measured around my thigh in the area of my crotch and touched my sack several times in the process, my manhood was frightfully erect and I knew she must see it. Still, she gave no indication different than in the past. As one might surmise, my manhood would not lay back down after such an experience. When Estelle went back into the house, I went to the privy. Remembering how her small hands had touched my body was enough to bring an end to my arousal. I went back to the workshop to resume my work.; As I had learned from Master Eaton, all Masters of a certain craft belonged to a guild of those craftsmen. They met from time to time to discuss the craft and more importantly, the pricing of such goods the craftsmen made. In this way, they were able to value their wares at such prices as would bring in a good income and no Master would seek to price his work lower than any other. A week after Estelle had measured me for my new trousers, Master Eaton left for the guild meeting. I knew from past meetings it would be the next morning when he returned. Estelle and I ate our evening meal and then prepared for bed. As was my usual practice, I went to the privy to relieve myself that I should not require the trip halfway through the night. Upon returning to the house, I quietly walked down the short hall for I did not wish to disturb Estelle. When I passed her door, it was ajar a ways, and I could not stop myself from looking through the opening. Estelle stood beside their bed and she was without any clothing at all. She was facing away from me, and I felt my manhood begin to rise at the sight of her slender thighs, soft rounded hips, and the small diamond shaped opening between those thighs and hips. I could not tear away my eyes. Such a sight I had never before seen, and my mind drank in every soft curve. Estelle turned toward me then, and her full breasts swayed gently at the movement. They were round and soft looking, and her teats were large, darker lumps sitting on likewise dark circles in the very centers of the firm