I've wanted to write about my life for a while, but haven't had sufficient time to put an interesting account together. Now I have. My decision to start has been governed by my own self-management issues and even now, although the words have been in my mind, it's not starting quite as I expected. I've always been a great reader and have often wondered how the great writers like Tolstoy and Dickens, got their words onto a page using a pencil or a scratchy pen and ink.
I think it was the late Douglas Adams who wrote the first book electronically, "Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy" in 1981, which wasn't a long time ago. There were typewriters and stuff about too but the process is not a discussion of technical aspects but about getting the details of my life down while I still have time before senility and a wrinkled pussy strike! So what's so different about you, Marjorie then, apart from having an unusual name, you might ask?
I'm the youngest of four sisters, but only Doris Blossom, my next sister up lives at home with Ma. Doris and I are the "Divine Sisters." I expect you've heard of us. We used to be legendary in the war and immediate posts war days.
I started off as a VGGI, (Very Good Girl Indeed), but thanks to my older sister Doris and the Pink Pussycat Club, I became a RHBGI, (Remarkably Bad Horny Girl Indeed). Isn't it odd how we all use acronyms these days? I expect you are wondering about the word "Divine." That's actually my real name, Marjorie Iris Divine. My Mother, "Ma" is actually Bridget Divine Divine and Doris is Doris Blossom Divine
Doris and I are remarkably similar in appearance: we've both got thick red hair, we're both very pretty and have tits and asses that men just can't keep their hands off. We keep diaries and Doris reckons she's had about several thousand blokes in her life so far and accuses me of catching up rapidly. My early VGGI days made me run significantly behind Doris. For the time being.
Both Doris and I like a good, juicy cock, a passionate an ardent man (and sometimes a girl), preferably with money. I would warn you girls unless you are built like a mains water pipe downstairs, don't even countenance a cock bigger than twelve inches. To start with anything bigger than that is likely to be an urban myth or will put you in hospital requiring a number of painful stitches. But and while most of the boys have between five and eight inches, twelve inch cocks do exist as Igor, Desmond, Winston and Charlie can attest. Naturally in the case of the last three, they are very close and frequent friends of Little Marjorie.
I have just read Peter Ackroyd's "London," a marvellous tome of 1500 pages about the history of my native city. I don't expect this tale to be as thick or as epic (mind you, I'm starting to get into the swing of it now!) but I will doubtless be thinking about getting it into print as a best seller later.
This story is about the McEvoys, the Divines and the Meehans, are three families involved in my life. To get the facts right, I have the assistance of the wonderful internet which these days, allows me to fact check some of the more outlandish happenings, the locations of venues and whether they still exist or in fact were actualities in the first place. I can run down birth, marriage and death notices, the length of a cock and even family pictures. The things we writers need these days. Old Charlie and Leo would kill for the internet I think.
The family has always been rather mysterious, a mix of close relatives and stepsisters. I even came across a brother, Michael, of whom I was unaware until now and he doesn't feature any further in this narrative as I can find no subsequent references to him and wonder whether he was a casualty of the first war or the Spanish flu epidemic of 1919? He would have been the right age. My Father Ernie doesn't feature at all as he was killed in an accident
Doris and I had a pretty happy if rather unusual childhood. We were brought up by Mum as Anne and May had moved out when they got married, Anne and Len to Catford and May and Ernie to Chelsfield. At one stage we all lived in the same house and grew up in Lollard Street, Hang in there, I'm coming to the bits where I get consistently fucked soon, so bear with me. Doris and I shared a bedroom in those days and it was really very cold, even with hot water bottles. On top of the blankets we arranged top coats for extra warmth and I can't remember a night without wearing thick socks. Doris was usually as randy as I was and I enjoyed fucking her enormously. Doris enjoyed being fucked by me enormously too. As a matter of fact, we still do.
In the early days, Bridget packed me off to Lollard Street School where I joined Doris at the start of our education proper. This school was both a primary and secondary school and was typical of its day, two floors, huge windows, slate roof and we froze our tits off in the winter and boiled in the summer. Doris left it and got a job in Wardour Street as a stripper. At the soon to be famous, Pink Pussycat Club. One of our many relations said she'd be ideal. She was! I must admit the money she brought into the house was very welcome and meant we consumed less WW1 corned beef and rabbit rissoles for dinner!
I had achieved a scholarship to Oxford University but of course this all went to the pack when the war broke out. After the war I actually did my degree and passed in chemistry and got a job as a teacher in a famous private school in London. But before that, I needed a job.
I was looking through the papers wondering perhaps I could get a job as an office junior or something, when I came across an advertisement for someone in the New Zealand Navy section of the Admiralty to work in the provisioning section for NZ warships. I didn't get too excited about as I couldn't imagine me, little Marjorie, heaving six inch shells around in a warehouse or whatever I would have to do!
I was over the moon about getting the job and when I was issued with the beautiful dark blue serge, my feelings just boiled over! I had to tie a tie properly and polish my buttons. Talk about a labour of love! Bridget, of course was so proud of her youngest daughter she took me round to the neighbours to show them her lovely daughter who was going to win the war on her own! Doris said it was odd that Mum didn't take her around in her G-String!