Sex In The Valleys

The Welsh Valleys might look idyllic but beneath that veneer of village respectability is a seething undertow of rampant debauchery Less I've set this book in the Welsh valleys, circa the 1970.s and it’s a kind of expose of all the seething sex that's going on beneath the sleepy veneer of these small interlinked Rhonda villages, well one in particular to be exact. From the uninteresting housewife who finds that her young summer lodger has more to offer than she first realised, to the local preacher, who can’t wait to finish his sermons because his female organist has some other organ skills she wants to desperately carry out. The girl who comes of age on Saturday nights and goes in search of the sex she craves. The M.P's wife with a conscience who finds her own way to satisfy her needs without feeling guilty. The twin girls who seduce their mother’s lover when she's away, Evans the post has never had it so good and the lusty librarian who wants to act out her sex fantasy and does it. These and many more secrets will come too life as our mysterious guide takes you into the homes and lives of the people who live in the Welsh Valleys.

Ah, there you are. Come on, don’t be shy. Step into my world and let me show you what lies beneath the surface of this seemingly innocent, God fearing place. Tingwyneth. one of the Welsh Valley villages, nothing really notable happens here you might think nowadays, nothing that might be considered,…..sinful. You see the rows of terraced Cottages; some now boarded up, some the second homes of the English invader. Better that one supposes than that they fall into ruin one would think but not all Welsh folks feel so, but that’s by the by now. Now then, let’s see? Where shall we begin our revelations? Oh that’s a good clue, yes revelations. The local chapel perhaps as it’s a Sunday. It’s set into a hillside, built some hundred or more years ago when the Colliery was the workplace of most all of the villagers, their lives centred around its towering hoisting wheel, their Godly Sunday prayers centred on the chapel. The congregation is gathered on this special day of worship, smaller now than in past times but still attentive to the preachers penetrating words none the less. Their first hymnal devotions sung, this commanding figure of a man is standing tall in his pulpit, ready to give his vitriolic sermon of nonsensical hypocrisy. You question that remark? Well let’s listen in to him then, but listen and watch closely friend for there is more going on here than meets the eye, far more. Come along now, take a seat up here alongside me, now watch all that happens and pay attention. “Beware the deadly temptations of the flesh. Beware the serpent that calls itself lust. Do not be tempted by such wicked distraction for it will lead you from God’s path into the arms of the ungodly one.” Good isn’t he, but watch closely, watch how his eyes flicker to Millicent Jones, the organ player. Oh yes, she certainly knows just how to play the organ and most expertly indeed too. She never misses a note and is always in the right key. See how she glances his way, stares for a moment as he slips his hand under his vestment. Now what do you think he might be doing as he spouts his vitriolic sermon at the unknowing congregation? Ah yes, Miss Millicent; 37 years old. A spinster now, but what a woman still. Magnificent in her Sunday best dress, the thin, jersey drawn tight over her lusciously large, pointed breasts that project out like barely restrained missiles. Their upper revealed slopes are the very temptations the man warns his avid following to beware of. Most deeply cleavaged and fully uplifted by her straining bra cups. His eyes linger for a moment devouring them. Her waist is narrow, hips flaring under the lightly pleated dresses, stockings held up by a black garter belt to match her black lace knickers and her legs are long, enticing and slightly parted. She throws back her head as she plays, pure sensual perfection in his eyes.