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  Shake That Tree

  Jodie Halliday

  Published by Jodie Halliday

  Copyright 2017 Jodie Halliday

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  The characters and events portrayed in this work are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Contains adult material that might not be suitable for all audiences. This work is a fantasy; in your own life be sure to follow safer sex practices.

  Also from Jodie Halliday

  Holly Gets a Ride

  Events Out of Control

  Lauren’s Love Lessons

  Please remember to leave a review for my book at your favorite retailer

  Chapter 1 – Been Down So Long

  It was conceived as the journey of a lifetime, to be guided by Google, financed from savings and undertaken with the energy of a teenager. Beginning as an exciting adventure, it was now, after four days, quickly descending into an endurance test against the punishing cold and increasing hunger. Extending before her was a vast forest of evergreens, towering up into the grey spring sky as afternoon passed into evening. As a result of feeble government protection the forest had shrunk to about half its original size, now stretching in the north from the foothills of the Woodfird Range down south to the Bomgar River. During daylight it was often a welcoming venue for family picnics and scenic tours. As evening progressed into night the huge, dense branches seemed to interlock to prevent even the brightest moon from lighting the ground. There were no bats flying silently between the pines, no creaking tree limbs or distant owls hooting, but the dark, rugged terrain was neither inviting nor romantic. As the wind picked up and moaned through the trees an imaginative mind could conjure up a myriad of evils.

  Far away from that Woodfird Range and south of the main entrance, Juliette Brosnan trudged along an unmarked trail, shivering, filthy, picking her steps with care and very aware of the way her toes were being pinched inside her walking boots. She knew what she would find if she took them off – blisters and possibly a little blood, dirty socks, the smell of days of walking and a night of a badly upset stomach. Pausing to rest against a tree she pulled out her phone and smiled. Google Maps said she had less than an hour to go. Eighty-seven miles down, just three more left. As the wind blew her dark hair she shivered again and wondered if the rain and hail might return. Her arms ached as she pulled her hood over her head. It was a quarter past eight and she had just over ten percent battery remaining. Perfect planning. With the phone back in her jeans she checked her orientation and then set off again, forever south-westward. Her smile grew even as her oversized backpack thumped against her spine and her stomach growled in response.

  An hour later she became aware of a growing sense of light-headedness, wobbling a little when the trail became uneven. The wind had picked up and rain mixed with hail had been falling intermittently once again. She sighed, feeling the fullness of her bladder, knowing that she would have to stop. Her hunger was gnawing at her with an intensity of more than just one missed meal. She crested a small hill and gasped with delight at the twinkling lights of housing in the distance. She was torn between immediately running down the hill towards the houses or relieving herself right there. As a compromise she jogged down to a group of small trees and dropped the backpack to the ground. It was certainly lighter than when she had set off, but still good to have it off her shoulders. Her numb fingers struggled with the button of her jeans as she turned her back to the trees. Eventually she slipped her jeans and knickers past her knees and squatted in the semi-darkness, looking left and right in case of an audience. The cold air was initially refreshing but just as she started to urinate the rain and hail seemed to home in her. She shook her head in disbelief while shuffling closer to the trees, steadying herself with one hand on a trunk. She wobbled, grasped at the tree with her other hand but to no avail as she toppled back onto the ground. She swore loudly, damning her luck, her hunger, the rain and the pine needles and mud that stuck to her buttocks. She smelled her urine and cursed as she tried to minimize the damage. A cold, metallic object brushed against her thigh and she reached down, peeling it away from her skin.

  She looked at her phone with utter disbelief, knowing with certainty that she had pissed on it. Her intestine rippled and the familiar movement of her bowels spelled another attack of the diahorea which had continually interrupted her attempts to sleep the previous night. She clenched hard, willing the feeling away as she slowly stood, not wishing to have to spend hours in the darkness trying to clean herself up as she had done early that morning. Pine needles and mud had invaded her knickers and she brushed them out with her wet, filthy hands before pushing the button on the phone. It came to life but seemed as though at least half the screen contained streaked lines of static colours. She stood there, knickers around her knees while she dealt with the most important tool of her journey. She would trade a flash of her pussy to any audience if she could just have a few more minutes with the map. She waddled away from the tree, pulling up her knickers with one hand as she shook the dirty phone with the other. Once satisfied with her direction she slipped the phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulled her jeans up, squealing as something like a pine needle speared her soft lips. Her fingers were still frozen, refusing to work as she picked up the backpack and slipped it over her shoulders. She walked down the hill with an exaggerated swagger as she clenched her buttocks not only to dissuade any further movement in her colon but also to keep her dirty jeans from irritating her wet skin. The map had confirmed she was on track and had shown the housing estate about 500 yards ahead, plus the town to the south which was marked as Adlestrop.

  “Yes,” she thought, “I remember Adelstrop.”

  Chapter 2 – Pictures at an Exhibition

  Harry picked up the phone and slumped into his chair, still feeling bloated from his steak dinner. He knew full well who was calling so late in the evening.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” said his wife Lydia. “Look, can you see my phone charger on the kitchen counter?”

  “No, I haven’t noticed it,” he replied, scrolling to the next Tumblr image.

  “Well, can you look for it, rather than just assuming?”

  “Hang on,” he said, putting the phone down on the desk. He left his study and looked around the kitchen, certain that he would have seen the charger if it had been left there. He returned after a deliberate delay of half a minute and scrolled through a couple more of the endless supply of images. “Oh, now that is so very sweet,” he thought as he smiled at the naked young girl lounging in an armchair. “No, I can’t see it.” he said.

  “Well how am I going to charge my phone without it?” she demanded.

  He smiled at an image of two late-teen girls squeezed into a bath. “Where are you?”

  “Maybe half-way there, near Medmenham, just got onto the Dashwood Road.”

  “Can’t you use Holly’s charger?” There was no response, but the two young girls were now locked together in an embrace. Both had small breasts and were cleanly shaved.

  “And another thing, when are you going to make that list of universities for her? I don’t want to be panicking at the last minute. Why can’t you just get it done? I keep asking, you know.”

  It looked like they had drained the wat
er out of the bath and were soaping each other. He now thought they were unlikely to be eighteen at all, more like sixteen, but it was so difficult to tell. With the phone on his shoulder his right hand scrolled while his left hand encouraged his cock to continue growing. He pulled at the belt on his dressing gown and let it fall open.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Of course. I thought you were going to ask her where her friends were going as that might help to decide?”

  “I will,” she said. He heard the road noise and the sound of her indicator. One of the girls was now standing over the other. He wondered if she would piss on her friend or just sink down for a tongue bath. He scrolled and new images came up of a totally different setting and just one girl. His cock, however, was happy to be active and he thought it felt slightly wider than usual. He gently ran the palm of his hand over the end then squeezed his balls.

  “OK, let’s decide when we get back. That gives you four days to make the list.”

  “We decide with Holly, not for Holly,” he said. His balls felt slightly rough with a few days of stubble on them since his last shave. If he could find a video that he hadn’t watched a hundred times then maybe he would spend a couple of minutes to make them feel super-smooth and clean.

  “Yes, yes, I know. OK, I’ve got to drive,” she said. The sound of the road filled the silence and he scrolled down to an image of a girl, naked in what looked like a library or study. There were rows of books and he leaned to one side to read the titles which were far more interesting than the unhappy girl.

  “OK, later,” he said as she clicked off. He would have liked to have talked to his daughter, especially as she was almost certainly bored to death with the journey. He texted her with some encouragement and she texted back instantly with a smiley face. He scrolled some more then considered whether he should look through the video folder on his hidden drive and pick out something to watch while he shaved and no doubt masturbated. He’d seen them all so many times that they now had little effect on him. If only his 500 GB drive hadn’t had a melt-down a couple of years ago, causing him to lose almost a hundred videos that he had collected over a decade. All that time and effort spent trawling through the old news groups had been wasted and he couldn’t remember any of the titles so finding them again was close to impossible.

  Tomorrow was Saturday and he promised himself that he’d watch something straight after breakfast then spend the day wandering around the house naked. Turning off the screen he left the study and made his way upstairs. He used the toilet one last time, shut the bedroom door and slid into bed. The noise of the toilet refilling gave way to the patter of rain against the bedroom window.

  Chapter 3 – Knocking on Heaven’s Door

  Less than ten minutes later Juliette caught sight of the electricity pylons, then the housing estate on the edge of the Woods. Counting the houses up from where the line of pylons formed a sharp turn she identified her target. A minute later and thirty feet from the back garden fence she settled against a tree, using the roots to wedge between her buttocks and dissuade any further movement from her treacherous bowels. She grabbed the zip of the backpack and tugged but her frozen fingers couldn’t keep hold of the tab.

  “Piece of crap,” she hissed, using the material of her hoodie to grip the zip although she was now unsure which of the many pockets held food. Defeated, she pulled the water bottle from the side of the backpack and drank. There was a light on in the kitchen and maybe one other downstairs. Upstairs seemed to be dark. Her head ached now from lack of food and she knew if she stood she’d wobble about. The rain dripped through the trees and it was impossible to avoid as the wind whipped around her. She desperately needed something to eat and to get warm. “Come on, go out to the goddamn shops or bar or something!” she muttered. Minutes later, and to her delight, lights went on and off around the house and a car’s headlights silently swept over the neighbour’s properties.

  Treading carefully she descended the last few feet of the incline and crossed a fire-break of dirt to the garden gate.

  Chapter 4 – Watching the Detectives

  Emil grimaced as he shifted position. He had been sitting on the ground for over two hours while darkness fell and although the thick parka jacket made a comfortable pad to sit on his joints weren’t impressed by the inactivity. He glanced over at his girlfriend and smiled as she lay next to him on the damp forest floor. The dingy light hid the shape of her fine legs as well as the swell of her large breasts but the two-tone red and blue blouse could still be discerned.

  “I bet you’re hungry, right?” he asked, looking back out towards the lights of the housing. She said nothing but he still nodded. After several silent minutes, a light caught his attention to his left, a fluorescence that suggested a smartphone, moving gently as though being carried. “Bingo! I’ll be right back sweetie,” he whispered. Emil was no detective but knew that the owner would be only too glad to give him anything he asked for in return for her freedom. He got up onto his knees then with a huge effort he stood, breathing hard as he brushed off the needles from his jeans. He grabbed his knife from the ground and wiped it on his leg before sliding it into the sheath on his belt. As he moved away he nudged a fist-sized stone with his foot, aligning with it dozens of others that formed a half-finished rectangle. “Back in a min.” He crept down the hill, gripping alternate tree-trunks to support his obese frame.

  Within a few steps, his heart beat heavily and his breathing labored even though he was moving downhill. The backache, which had never really disappeared, returned with a vengeance, causing him to lean forward and exaggerate his already ungainly walk. As he approached the figure he slowed himself by grabbing onto passing trees until he stopped, then squatted, panting, about forty feet away. “Target acquired,” he thought, smiling to himself as he touched the knife at his hip. He knew he should have been in the army, an officer, behind enemy lines. At the age of thirty-nine that would have been more exciting than Trainee Sales Assistant in the PC Games department of a dying electronics store. Every day, the same drudgery, the same dumb questions. Especially the silly little girls who came in after school. They would giggle when they saw him then shy away as he approached. How he would like to drag some of those bitches into the warehouse and pummel them. That would get their respect, no more back-chat from those cheap sluts. They knew nothing about electronics and were hopeless at goddamn video games. Bitches.

  Just like Veronica who he had left up the hill in the trees. He had known the girl just over three months and she had turned out to be just the same as all the others. She had absolutely no interest in Battlefield, beer or hanging out with his friends. She had moaned early in their relationship about his lack of energy and had even giggled when he turned bright red and gasped for breath as he tried to have sex with her. He suspected too that she reported all of his short-comings to her friends (although she had never introduced him to any of them) but he was also sure that she would never bother to tell them about how he met his sales targets and was in line for a possible promotion next year. Bitch, just like the others, even though Veronica had lasted twice as long as any in recent years.

  The target had paused but was moving again, now in the direction of the back garden of one of the houses. Gorse and brambles edged the forest and he rose so that his view was unobstructed as he shuffled down the incline. His thighs ached from the unusual exertion and his steps were hardly as quiet as he would have wished. He skirted a group of saplings but when he looked back up the target had unlatched the garden gate and was moving towards the house. Cursing quietly, Emil sat, prepared to wait while whatever trouble was brewing came to a head for the little bitch.

  Chapter 5 – Beat on the Brat

  Juliette shut the old wooden gate and approached the door which she assumed led into the garage, a thought confirmed as she peered in through the window. To her delight the door opened silently and she stepped inside, closing it behind her. Th
ere was a strong smell of oil or maybe something else to do with machinery which provided a feeling of homeliness, enhanced further by the relative warmth. She slid the hoodie off her head and reached out for the door frame as her dizziness returned suddenly. Feeling her way towards where she thought the door to the house might be she stumbled, causing something metallic and empty to skitter across the floor. Sinking to her knees she fumbled and opened the backpack, relieved now that a little feeling had returned to her fingers. The torch shone garishly around the garage, picking out garden equipment hanging from hooks to her left, shelving with flower pots, ladders on the far wall and finally, nearest the door, food. She clicked off the light and lurched towards what had looked like a large discount bag of chocolate bars.

  She stumbled into the lawnmower, swinging it around so that the metal cylinder grated against the concrete floor. Reaching out in the darkness she flailed uselessly, the rough brickwork of the wall providing only temporary stability before her foot caught and twisted on something spherical. She fell, hitting her head noisily on the metal grass box before ending up wedged between the mower and the garage brickwork. She heard a door open and tried to look up but a large rubbish bin blocked her view.

  A man shouted at her. “You!” She heard a couple of heavy footsteps. “You, you little fucker, goddamn thief!” More steps then a swoosh, followed by a loud crash as something hit the metal grass box beside her ear. She screamed at the sudden noise so close to her head. “Break into my house would you, bastard!” Another swoosh then a searing pain in her arm as the bat connected. She screamed again and tried desperately to shield her head from the next blow. “Little pansy fucker!” he shouted and swung again, hitting her on the upper thigh.