Rod Collins

The Coxeman Goes Hunting in the Country
A Guest Post by Rod Damon

Following a successful counter-espionage mission recently I gained favour with a well known member of the landed gentry.
Consequently, I received a gilt embossed invitation to this fat oaf’s , I mean his Lordships, stately home.
It seemed like the ideal occasion to oil my weapon and bag a couple of birds !

So today I instructed my valet to pack for both countryside sports and evening black tie. I enjoyed a large whisky and soda whilst he performed his tasks.
I was advised t travel down on the train and that his Lordship would send the Bentley to pick me up.
Bugger that !
Rod Damon doesn’t stand around waiting for grubby trains filled with grubby people !
No chance of a decent conquest on a train (in the UK of course, elsewhere very worthwhile) so I drove down and hoped to pick up a hot hitchhiker on the way - sadly to no avail.

Needless to say what with this disappointment and all the travelling, my blood was up !

After saying hello to my gracious host and freshening up I went in search of some action.
At this time of day it would have to be one of the maids or kitchen girls - but hey ho any port in a storm and I’m no snob when it comes to horizontal entertainment. This proved to be a waste of time, with only some 45 year old crone to be found, although younger than me she was past her best and my enquiry as to whether she had a daughter lead to the Bent Eye stare!.

Ambling over to the stable block proved more productive. I observed a young, but fairly stout, classic corn-fed country girl. She was busy brushing a horse, or strapping a mare as I have since been informed (I thought that would be my job!)

What she’d lost in an over generous diet she gained in riding breeches and black boots so I moved in for the kill.
I was expecting an easy conquest and such proved to be the case. This simple country girl was unable to resist the cosmopolitan charms of an international adventurer and we repaired hastily to the barn.

Now let me tell you, a roll in the hay is fine as a metaphor but leaves much to be desired when applied literally. For all you half-men out there who are only up to a quick fumble it may be OK.
But, for The Coxeman and his legendary stamina it’s no good, the hay gets everywhere and the least I owed this stable girl was the ride of her life !

Taking her to the main house was socially questionable so I made good use of the head trainers vacant office. I cannot go into too many details as the site owner will censor me again but suffice is to say the girls experience of wrapping her thighs around a wild stallion stood her in good stead.
Sadly for her I ruined her for other men and she would never experience the like again but no time to think of that now.
I fancied a quick snifter before dinner so located the local inn and downed a couple of swift ones whilst marking out the comely barmaid for a possible conquest later on in the weekend.
I had to make a quick getaway as the conversation between myself and inbred country yokels is less than inspiring.
I must dash and get ready for dinner, I’m reliably informed there will be some toothsome fillies there, good food and plenty to drink - so the chance to behave disgracefully seems all but certain.

The fat gout ridden country gents know nothing of ladykilling charm but their money ensures beautiful wives - these frustrated ladies should provide a fertile, if somewhat risky, hunting ground

I shall report in tomorrow and let you know how it goes dear readers
Until then Keep it Up !
The Coxeman