Tuula and the Miners
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The Miner’s Strike – 1984 free porn video
The year is 1984, the place is the South Wales coalfields, the problem – a faceoff between the government and the National Union of Mineworkers, and one union leader in particular. The result is a yearlong strike, violent clashes between pickets and police, lack of food for most households that were already on the breadline, family tensions at breaking point leaving women desperate to provide for their families.
It was, by far, the most bitter of disputes in British history and had no real parallels in size of numbers, duration or impact anywhere in the world. The strike started in March of 1984 and was deemed illegal in September 1984. Despite that, it lasted until March 1985; a whole year.
By the tenth of December food was short, presents for children were non-existent and certain people, desperate. Some were fortunate to have friends and family that continued to support them, especially financially, others, not so.
The union strategy was to cause a severe shortage of energy of the same scale that had won a victory in the Miner’s strike of seventy-two. The government strategy was to break the strike at all cost by breaking the picket lines and keeping as many people at work as possible; people that would be blacklisted by their own communities and families and labelled scum. Sisters and brothers ended up spitting at each other as they passed in the street.
But the camaraderie of the miners was, above all, prevalent. Miners showed a high degree of solidarity, had similar lifestyles and evangelical religious styles. Every day they would turn out on the picket lines, without fail. Every day, their wife’s would ask whether there had been any further move towards ending the strike, and every day the men would report that there had not been.
The militant National Union of Mineworker’s President saw that a resolution would never be the case. Winning was all that mattered on both sides of the fence. The President’s speeches confirmed his hatred of the government and his unwillingness to accept, as he put it, policies elected by a minority of the British electorate. In his defence, he wanted to secure the rights of coal miner’s and the industry, but his vehement actions more than destroyed it; along with the unions.
Johnny Davies, Jenny’s son was playing in the front room with his toy train set that he received the previous Christmas while several mothers gathered around the radio in the much smaller kitchen. Jenny Davies, Margaret Evans and Bethan Jones were three such mothers that put two fingers up to the unions while listening to the speeches being made.
“I just want some food on my table and a present for my youngest, Jack, I want this to end,” said Margaret Evans, letting loose a swift sob that ended with a sniff.
Jenny placed a calming hand on her back to soothe her, but she too sought the same things. Bethan stared at the radio in disbelief as she took in the meaning of yet another rejection from the unions to end the strike.
On the front line, miners jeered and verbally abused the drivers of buses that attempted to break the strike lines. Stones were thrown at the now steel-meshed windows and the police, although frightened by the numbers pressed them back with their inadequate shielding; often getting trampled themselves.
Jenny, Bethan and Margaret took much-needed supplies to their husbands on the picket line. Coffee was in good supply but the food was not. They carried what little they could muster from the goodwill of the community to share it around; though their own resistance to the strike was lacking any real fortitude.
As they approached the line, they were always met by Jonathan Williams; a union man through-and-through, with his plush beige knee-length coat of fine wool and his leering, dirty smile. Always dressed smartly he epitomised all that the women despised.
“Ladies, what have you brought us today?”
Jenny’s remarks were acidic while Bethan smoothed them over with her witty charm.
“Anytime I can help you ladies, I will,” he announced as they walked past him.
That statement was said on more than one occasion. It kept repeating over and over in Bethan’s head. How could Jonathan Williams ever hope to help them? He was sleazy and hell-bent on keeping this strike going.
“End the strike,” shouted Jenny, over her shoulder, “that’s how you can fucking help us.”
Jonathan grinned as he watched their lovely bottoms disappear into the crowd of waiting, hungry men.
ooOoo
It was Bethan that faced up to Jonathan Williams as he exited the local Prince of Wales pub a few days later. She was walking back from her mothers who had kindly offered the warmth of their house and a bite to eat. Her husband was at home sleeping from the morning’s picket line duty.
“How is my favourite blonde-haired beauty?” He asked, grinning at her.
Bethan stopped, pulled her collar around her neck and face and looked up at him.
“You twat!” she commented.
“That I may be, but at least I have money.”
The comment made her ache; she could feel a pain in the pit of her stomach even though she had just eaten. She wanted to strike out at him, teach his grinning face a lesson it would remember.
“Every time we feed the miners,” she said pointing at him, “ you say you can help us, but you never do, can’t you see what this strike is doing to us, the community, me?”
Jonathan lowered his head, shaking it from side to side. He pursed his lips and was about to speak before Bethan interrupted him.
“So, come on, how can you help us, eh!”
“I have quite a lot of spare cash in my pockets,” he said, pulling them inside out as if to make a point.
“And your point is?”
“I bet your twat would look lovely on my face for a few quid. I bet all your friends could benefit from a little extra, as they say.”
“You’re fucking disgusting, you are.” Bethan pulled her coat up around her neck and started to walk off. She had gone only ten yards before she turned.
“How much?”
“That depends,” Jonathan shot back at her.
“Depends on what?”
“How many of you and how far you go? The three of you together would be a wonderful experience.”
“How much?”
“Say, fifteen quid each.”
“For one shag?”
“Let’s say for one afternoon, or part of.”
“We make the rules. Not you,” she shot back at him.
Jonathan considered the counter offer. “Okay, you have my word. But I pay when I have considered it worthwhile. No cheating on me.”
Bethan nodded, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Bethan pulled her coat close to her body and wandered up the lane to their terraced house. All the while she was muttering the words fifteen quid, fifteen quid.
ooOoo
On Wednesday, the three of them were listening to the radio while Johnny played with the toy plane that his father had made him. It was his pride and joy.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jenny,” whispered Bethan, “it’s for fucking fifteen quid, think what you can buy with that.”
“He’s a fucking twat,” replied Jenny.
“I know he is, but for a quick fuck it’s a hell of a lot of money – it’s over a third of the amount of DSS for a week in one fucking day.”
“It’s meat on the table, though there will be questions as to where it came from, my husband’s not stupid,” commented Margaret.
“It’s a Christmas present too for your young Johnny,” said Bethan.
“I haven’t had sex in fucking ages,” commented Margaret, “all he ever seems to do is sleep, picket and then sleep some more. We don’t enjoy ourselves, sexually.”
Jenny’s hands covered her face. She spoke into her hands. “It’s quite a sum.”
Bethan glanced towards Margaret and smiled.
“I can see the glint in Johnny’s eyes at Christmas,” said Bethan.
“And that turkey would be a fitting sight at the table,” added Margaret.
Jenny raised her head. “You’ve not had sex, in how long?” Her comment was directed towards Margaret.
“Seven months now, it stopped about three months after the strike started.”
“Same here,” added Jenny.
Bethan kept out of the conversation, her need for sex had kept her husband Dave a slave to her appetite almost three times a week before she let him fall off to sleep. Yet for fifteen quid, she thought, an extra fuck wouldn’t go amiss.
Before they left the confines of Jenny’s kitchen they had decided to go through with it. How to arrange babysitters and where the deed would be done.
The next time they saw Jonathan Williams they completely wiped the smile from his face.
“My house, one o’clock on Thursday. Fifteen quid each, the three of us, you still up for it,” said Bethan, looking him sternly in the eye.
Jonathan’s mouth dropped open, he nodded. Thursday was four days away. Far too long, he thought, it couldn’t come fast enough.
ooOoo
Every day was picket day, but Thursday was different. Thursday was the day that the union representative gave a speech to all the miners. A kind of a cross between why they were doing this and how close they were to bringing down the government. All the miners would be there, most of them hoping, deep down, for reassuring words that would end the torment and struggle they had been put through.
Jonathan Williams would be giving the speech atop his orange crate.
He left his house at twelve-fifteen and made his way to the deputy representative, handed him the four pages of paper where he had scribbled his speech, patted him on the back and encouraged him to deliver the speech on his behalf. He had more urgent union business to take care of.
ooOoo
Jenny made her excuses to her mother when she dropped off Johnny at their house.
“It’s just for a while, mum, a couple of hours,” she pleaded.
“What’s so important that you can’t take your own son,” she chided back.
“Please, mum, a couple of hours, that’s all.”
She pleaded with her body language, her eyes, her posture said it all. Desperation was flowing out of her.
“A couple of hours, but you’d better not be late. I want you back here at four, young lady.”
“I won’t let you down, I promise. See you later Johnny,” she said, kissing him on the forehead before turning to leave.
She made a beeline back to her house.
It was twelve thirty-five when she left her house after checking herself out in the full-length mirror by the door. The long coat just about covered everything that needed to be covered. Not that there was much on underneath.
She headed out the door. Her breathing was rushed, her excitement evident and dressed like a slut.
ooOoo
At twelve forty, Margaret knocked at Bethan’s door. She had wandered into Bethan’s husband Dave as left in a hurry.
“I know, he’s late, I had to practically plead for him to go to the meeting,” she said, hurrying her into the room.
“Where are we doing this, upstairs or what?”
“I thought down here on the sofa, what about you?”
“Here’s okay, where’s Jenny?”
Bethan shrugged.
The door knocker sounded heavy. They both looked at each other and they both took deep breaths.
“Are you ready for this, Margaret?”
“To be honest, I’ve been gagging for a good fuck for ages, you bet I’m ready. Between you and me – he can keep his fucking money if I get to come twice.”
“Don’t forget,” Bethan added, “we are in control here – not him.”
Bethan answered the door to a grinning Jonathan Williams, on his arm was Jenny.
“Guess who I met coming up the path,” she giggled, “I think I just made an innuendo there,” she commented.
Jonathan let Jenny enter first while looking around for any twitching curtains from the houses close by. As soon as she was inside, she removed her coat and hung it on one of the hooks behind the door. Her dress sense caused him to suck in some much-needed air as his hand came upon her bottom and he gently squeezed her cheek. He let his hand caress it as she moved forward.
“Fuck me!” commented Margaret as she saw Jenny enter the room, dressed in just a basque, stockings and heels.
“Oven-ready are we?” she asked.
“More than ready, what about you?” she asked, turning to Jonathan who had just removed his coat and placed it on the back of the chair. The fire in the lounge was roaring, at least their coal was still free.
Margaret had a simple floral dress on and Bethan sported a skirt and blouse that did little to hide her exploding nipples. She may have had small breasts but she more than made up for it in nipple size alone.
“Are you ready for us?” she asked Jonathan.
He nodded his approval; his mind was still working out the logistics of one man and three women. It wasn’t part of his everyday experience. He didn’t even have a wife.
Bethan started to approach from the front before Margaret came between them.
“I hope you’re gonna last,” she said, before smiling at him and dropping to her knees. Her hands scraped down his torso ending up on his hips.
Jenny let her hands roam over Jonathan’s chest, she had already unhooked several buttons and her hand was snaking inside his shirt. By the time she had grasped a nipple and had squeezed it, their mouths locked in action; their tongues fencing in earnest.
Jonathan’s hand came upon her breast and with the other, on her bottom, he was more than pleased with what filled them.
He heard noises down below; the swish of zips, the clanking of buckles and the sudden exposure of his hardening cock. The warm air surrounded it but the warmer mouth of Margaret caused his eyes to open. He broke off the kiss with Jenny to look down at his rapidly expanding cock as it disappeared into this brunette’s mouth. Her lips caressing his pubes as she swallowed his cock whole.
“Fuck me, Mags,” Bethan’s outcry was more in disbelief at the way she devoured and engulfed his cock entirely within her mouth. Jonathan’s cock grew inwards, down her throat rather than push her mouth off it. Bethan was impressed.
Jenny had just about removed Jonathan’s shirt by the time Margaret had come up for air.
“Impressive,” said Margaret as she was joined by Bethan to her right.
“Get him on the sofa girls, I need something badly,” announced Jenny.
They all moved towards the sofa. Jonathan’s trousers were around his ankles which hindered movement and they stumbled more than once before his bottom slumped on the soft cushions. As soon as he was safely down, Margaret’s mouth was licking his cock head and sucking him down her throat for a second time. Bethan was looking at her and patiently waiting for her turn.
She took her chance when Margaret came off his cock for some air and she substituted her mouth for Margaret’s.
“Fuck me,” cried Jonathan as he watched her go at him with gusto.
It was the last thing that he said, could ever say under the circumstances. Jenny had climbed on top of him, her thighs either side of his head and her pussy lowering itself onto his mouth.
Despite not having a wife, Jonathan was not a stranger to licking pussy. It was one of his favourites but all too infrequent pastimes. His tongue automatically extended and brushed aside her hairy pussy to dart between her puffy lips; lips that were already wet with excitement. As he entered her, she looked over her shoulder at her friends taking it, in turn, to suck and swallow on his cock.
“Take it easy you two; I want some of that later.” It came out like an order, and she meant it.
It wasn’t long before Jonathan’s oral ministrations were having the necessary effect. Jenny started to moan and groan. Her hands darted to the back of his neck. She was going to climax on his face and prove to everyone that she was no ordinary woman.
Jonathan let his lips roam around her pussy but eventually letting them settle on her clitoris. Jenny’s moans increased and her eyes started to slide backwards. Her legs started to thrust towards him but with little to no effect on her pussy. In her position, she was relying on him to finish her off.
Jenny wasn’t disappointed.
Both Margaret and Bethan had eased their sucking so that they kept him stiff and eager while he sucked their friend. It had been an eye-opener for all of them. Bethan had never known that Margaret could deep throat the biggest cock she had ever seen, and neither of the women between Jonathan’s legs knew that Jenny was a squirter, though Bethan had heard of that happening to some privileged women.
It was precisely one o’clock when Jenny’s orgasm hit her and Jonathan got flooded from the copious quantities of pussy juice that flowed out of her. All he could do was swallow every last drop.
Outside, on the picket line, at precisely one o’clock, the deputy union representative had started delivering Jonathan’s speech.
“Men of Coal, our family, brothers in this struggle for right against wrong. We stand together, UN-IT-ED.”
He went on in the same tone of voice, while Jenny was getting off on his master’s tongue. There was no unity in that room, there was no standing together, there was no family. There were no people shouting and raising their hands in the air.
There were moans and groans and expletives being repeated over and over. There were sighs and there was wetness all around. The room smelled of sex.
At the picket line, David, Iaian and Christopher all cheered as their wives were either sucking the cock of their local union leader or plastering his mouth with copious quantities of pussy juice.
Jenny’s climax was earth-shattering. It had certainly been a long time. She shuddered on top of Jonathan for a little while before she twisted her body and slumped down to rest by the side of him.
Margaret had stood up and removed her dress, she was naked underneath and Jonathan almost whistled at her more than ample cleavage. Her breasts bounced from the rapid removal of her clothes. She mounted him immediately, pushing her breasts into his face and urging him to suck on them, maul them, man-handle them and squeeze her nipples.
His cock rested neatly between the cheeks of her arse. The same cheeks that Bethan was licking her tongue between in an attempt to get his cock in her mouth. It was a shame, but Margaret’s bottom disappeared, leaving Bethan with an uninterrupted conversation between her mouth and his cock.
Margaret followed Jenny’s lead. She plastered her shaved pussy onto Jonathan’s mouth. His gusto had not worn off and he licked and sucked her pussy with as much energy as he did Jenny’s. Sucking cock the way she did always prepared her for the most wonderful and satisfying orgasms and his cock certainly provided the first course adequately.
Bethan had stood up; she had become mesmerised with Margaret’s bottom and while she stroked Jonathan’s cock with one hand she let her other caress Margaret’s bottom with the other. The fire in her soul had been ignited and her eyes betrayed her lust. She had hoped to contain it but there was no going back now.
Jenny watched from the sidelines as her friend reached out her hand. The smile on her face was evident as slowly but surely every kink was being revealed. They would never be the same friends after this – that was for sure.
Jenny took hold of the cock from Bethan and started to stroke it before swallowing as much of it as she could. His pre-cum leaked and she found the taste more than pleasant. It had been a while since she swallowed cum and she was desperate but decided to wait until her friends could join her for the finale that they had planned.
Jenny watched Bethan give in to her sexual desires. Her hand pressed hard against Margaret’s bottom; pushing her pussy further onto Jonathan’s mouth. She was looking for some sort of sign from Margaret and got it when Margaret turned her head to look in her direction; the nod of her head said it all.
Bethan prised her cheeks apart and before she knew it her tongue was fiercely attacking her anus in unison with Jonathan’s attack on her pussy. Margaret felt like she was in heaven and rode both tongues expertly.
In desperate need, Jenny pushed Bethan to one side, though her tongue was glued in place keeping contact with Margaret’s bottom the whole time. Jenny mounted Jonathan to a hum of pleasure from his mouth. She fucked his cock with slow deliberate strokes at first but then speeded up.
Jenny came quickly on Jonathan’s cock and to her surprise he had resisted the urge to ejaculate in her. As she removed his cock, her place was taken by Bethan. Her pussy slid down the whole length of his glistening cock in one go. Her mouth plastered to Margaret’s tiniest of holes and her hands stretched the skin across her bottom to make life a little easier. Bethan really wanted to be at the other end but this was second best. It had been so long ago that she had tasted a woman.
Bethan didn’t take long and she came at the same time as Margaret did. Their orgasms, pushed from their bodies alongside moans and groans. Margaret shuddered on the mouths that were pleasuring her and Bethan was pumping her bottom up and down on Jonathan’s cock. She wanted to take his seed herself, but a wicked thought entered her head.
She immediately extricated her pussy from around his cock and slipped down his legs. With her hands gripping Margaret’s waist tightly she pulled her downwards with her. As she was climaxing, Margaret’s pussy was forcibly removed from Jonathan’s pleasure-giving organ and onto his second-most enviable attribute. Bethan had held his cock steady as her friend had fallen backwards and had aimed it expertly at her approaching cunt. Jonathan’s cock went straight in, all the way in, in one single thrust. With ecstatic realisation written all over her face, she started humping his cock in post-coital bliss. Her second orgasm exploded almost immediately.
Margaret came hard for a second time before Jonathan announced that he too was going to come. Margaret started bouncing on his cock thinking it was all hers but the other two had ideas of their own. It was Bethan that pulled Margaret to one side in a last ditched attempt to get her face covered in spunk. Margaret’s third orgasm was left to smoulder as Jenny joined her. The three of them were inches from his manhood by the time he emptied his balls.
Jonathan had to admit, their faces looked absolutely gorgeous covered in his sticky goo as they lapped it off each other’s faces.
ooOoo
It was a resounding speech that was made on the picket line that day. It excited a fire in the miner’s bellies; a need to do something positive. Stop the scums from entering the coal mine. Face up to authorities. It hadn’t helped that militants from other coalfields had been brought in at the request of that infamous NUM president.
Jonathan lay exhausted on the sofa. He remained slumped and totally sated. Two of the three women had gone to freshen themselves up. Though, Jenny had an inkling that that was just an excuse for Bethan to taste more of her forbidden fruits.
With her face now clean, Jenny sucked on Jonathan’s cock one last time until it started to stiffen. She tugged it in her hand and cupped his balls; gently squeezing them. Every motion made it stiffen by the second. By the time she took him in her mouth, he had hardened enough for her needs.
On the day the three women were getting their pussies licked and fucked, pickets and horseback police clashed with truncheons drawn. Blood was spilt. Five pickets and fourteen police were injured, yet Jenny was about to mount Jonathan Williams for a second time.
“No, not there,” she said, “up my arse, if you please.”
“If I please?” asked Jonathan.
“Up my arse then, and I want it fucked hard.”
She was thankful that Margaret and Bethan were not there to see her being taken in this way; though she pretty much knew they would find out sooner rather than later. Though how Bethan was going to make excuses for the sodden sex-juiced sofa was anyone’s guess.
She couldn’t hide the smile on her face as she felt him press against her anus. She encouraged him, pushed back towards him, and let out a long lingering sigh when he was deep inside her bottom. She knew what the results would be and she had an inkling that Jonathan knew as well.
“Fuck me,” she ordered.
And fuck her, he did.
ooOoo
By the time Jonathan was peeling three, no, he decided four fivers were more appropriate, from the money he held in his hand the picket line had grown quiet. People were suffering from wounds and from the sight before them. The police had trebled in numbers almost immediately the fighting broke out. No-one knew where they had come from.
Miner’s and police alike were hospitalised and being taken care of. The scum bus had gotten through to the pit. There would be no doubt of that.
In unison, Margaret and Jenny both spoke out as they took the twenty quid from Jonathan Williams.
“Can we do this again?”
He nodded and agreed that they would, but not for some time.
He left the house at four o’clock and had decided to join the men at the picket line. Jenny left Bethan’s house at the promise of her mum to pick up Johnny, but she really wanted to stay and chat about what they had done. They would talk soon enough, she reckoned.
Before leaving, Margaret had turned to Bethan and repeated the same sentence.
“Can we do this again?”
Bethan nodded. “I certainly hope so, I really do.”
Just as Jenny had surmised, their friendship had changed. Their husbands, hopefully, would be none the wiser, but that would be down to the twitching curtains and busybodies that found it impossible to keep their noses out of other people’s business.
Still, thought Bethan, who in their right minds would think anything bad of two women having afternoon tea together, with or without the picket line in place.
That afternoon’s events caused reverberations in all of them; guilt being one, but for Margaret and Jenny this had been quickly dispelled. The fact that their husbands had been on the front lines, and had been so close to an injury, resonated with them. But the thought of being pleasured, even if it was by Jonathan Williams was overwhelmingly exciting. Jenny had left the house with thoughts of visiting Jonathan on her own. Free of charge – so to speak. Bethan had definite desires on Margaret and could only see her sex life improving in ways that didn’t involve cock. Margaret likewise, though she could not remember a better experience than being licked and rimmed at the same time and then, at the point of orgasm, finding her pussy full of cock to bring her off to an almost immediate second climax.
All in all, the Welsh valley’s would never be the same not for the three of them, not for Jonathan Williams and certainly not for miners.
It was the end of an era and the start of a new one.
Alma
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