Getting it in the Priest’s Hole

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by Cristiano Caffieri

After being unemployed for almost six months it was driving me crazy, so as I walked into the unemployment office on that beautiful Spring morning, I decided that I would accept whatever was on offer regardless of how bizarre it was. I suppose using that term bizarre was tempting fate, because as it turned out they had a vacancy for a curator-come-janitor for a panty museum.

It appeared that the Lord Waywood estate was looking for someone to man their unusual museum for the tourist season. People went out there, mainly on weekends, to picnic, take guided tours of the house and visit his Llama farm. The panties, of which there were some 500 pairs, were housed in what was once the grand ballroom, and that was to be my domain.

Lord Waywood turned out to be a very pleasant fellow, typically aristocratic with protruding teeth, receding chin and completely covered in tweed.
“We don’t open for a couple of weeks but the place needs cleaning and straightening up,” he said, “And you need to get to know all about the exhibits so that you can answer any questions.”

He showed me into the museum which proudly displayed a pair of Queen Victoria’s bloomers, a pair worn by a woman guillotined in medieval France, along with those of female celebrities, cross dressers and even a gigantic pair donated by the fattest woman in Britain.

It was a bit disconcerting to be surrounded by all these cotton and silky vestments that had covered cracks that ranged from being tight as a mouse’s ear to as wide as the Cheddar Gorge. However, it was a job and in addition to my pay, which was a little above average, he said I was to dine free of charge with the other servants in the kitchen.
As I was straightening up the following day I discovered there was another little perk, Irina. Clad in, what looked more like a French maid’s outfit than an English one, she seemed to pop out from behind one of the cabinets as I was dusting it.

She gave a little cheeky grin, “You’re Ned I presume?”

“Yes,” I said, still recovering her sudden unexpected appearance.

“I’m Irina,” she said, tossing her head to one side, “Do you like working among all these frilly knickers?”

“It’s a job,” I replied.

“Do they turn you on – do they make you feel like jerking yourself off?”
Now I was really shocked, she looked such a sweet little thing I didn’t imagine anything like that coming out of her mouth.

“I have to get on with my work,” I said, flicking my duster in double quick time.

“What do you think of my panties?” she inquired, lifting her short skirt to reveal a pair so flimsy that you could see the outline of her vagina.
“They’re very nice,” I said, hoping that she’d go away. After all, I’d only just started the job; I certainly didn’t want to lose it.

“His Lordship likes this pair, well he likes to slip them off when he has his way with me,” she giggled.

It was hard to believe that the old man who’d hired me would actually be banging his maid, although I could hardly blame him, she was awfully pretty and had a good pair of tits on her. Of course, I should have suspected something with that uniform; none of the other staff members wore anything like that. Maybe it was because the ones I’d seen so far tended to be on the fat side. I’m sure they would have looked frightening wearing the same outfit as Irina.

“Do you like having sex?” she inquired, jumping up and sitting on a table with her legs dangling and spread wide apart.

“I don’t think that’s something I want to discuss,” I said, once again trying to get back to my work, but it was hard to do when she was flaunting her cunt at me.

“Have you ever fucked anybody wearing a French Maid costume,” she asked with a little smirk on her face.

I said I hadn’t and then I began to walk away from her hoping she wouldn’t follow me, but she did. Trotting behind me in her high heel shoes, she asked me if his Lordship had shown me the priest hole.
It was funny she should ask that because I’d been reading up on the history of the estate and had come across that very subject. Apparently, it was a secret compartment where Catholic priests would hide to avoid arrest after the Reformation.

“Let me show you where it is,” she smiled, “It’s on the tour and some of the visitors may ask you about it.”

Like a lamb to the slaughter, she led me to the very end of the long room and stopped under a portrait of some ugly medieval woman, who stared down at us with a frown on her face. Irina then ran her finger up and down the trim on the paneling and voila, a door opened up.

“You go in first and feel for the light switch, it’s been modernized since the reformation,” she laughed, “Go on – go on in – it’s on the wall to the right somewhere.”

By the time I managed to locate the switch and turn on the light she had closed the door and had me pinned against the wall.

“I think you and I are going to get on very well together Ned,” she smiled, and then she slipped her hands around my back and laid her hot moist lips on mine. It took my breath away.

It was only natural for me to put my arms around her and when I did she poked her tongue into my mouth searching for mine. I must admit I was beginning to feel as horny as hell and it didn’t take me long to plunge my hand down her low cut neckline and grab hold of one of her tits. She took a deep breath and then quickly dragged the top of the dress down to give me easier access.

I continued to kiss her as I fondled them, and then I lowered myself down and took one of her hardened nipples into my mouth. Irina moaned with pleasure as I sucked and worked her soft warm flesh with my fingers.

Her next move took me a little by surprise. She slid from my grasp, unbuckled my pants, and when they’d dropped to the floor she went down on my dick as if she couldn’t wait for a mouth full of cum.

As her hands massaged my balls and her gorgeous lips slipped up and down my shaft, it was my turn to moan. Sometimes she took it out completely and then she would plunge it back in. My body was so tense I became desperate to blow my load. When I did she kept milking it and milking it.

Irina satisfied that she’d consumed all there was, peeled off her clothes and lay on the floor with her legs open and a smile on her face.

“Eat me out Ned,” she smiled, squirming her body impatiently.

Kicking my pants clear of my feet, I lay down in front of her and licked my way up her thighs to her bush. I brushed over her lips lightly before parting them with my fingers and running by tongue up and down her wet crack as though I was consuming a Creamy Delight.
After I’d flicked her clit a few dozen times her body began to shake violently and she yelled out “Oh fuck,” at the top of her voice. Still shaking she gripped onto my hair and pulled me forward, anxious for me to ram my cock inside of her.

Her love canal was so hot and so well lubricated I began to pump it in and out of her like a mad man. She kept urging me on by calling out “yes!” and digging her nails into my back. When I made those final thrusts and I ejaculated a long stream of cum into her, she was gasping as though she was short of breath. However, she quickly recovered, got to her feet, thanked me as though I had just delivered a pizza and she started to dress.

Emerging from the secret panel together we bumped right into Mrs. Wilmot, the dour-looking housekeeper. She gave a little curtsy to Irina.

“Your lunch is ready your Ladyship, I’ve served it in the Blue Room as you requested.” THE END

book number one

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Copyright 2015 Cristiano Caffieri

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