This is a total fantasy story and does not include anyone under age or any violence.
It was Sunday morning again. I was excited. I looked at my husband John as he busied himself shaving. He tried not to show it, but I knew he was excited. It was always the same on Sundays.
We were both in our forties, and yet at weekends we felt like teenagers with all sorts of exciting mysteries around us. Our children had grown up and were always away doing their own things.
He tried to sound relaxed as he asked, "Did you speak to Molly yesterday, Jenny? Does she want us to pick her up?"
"No, she told me on Friday that her car had been fixed. She will see us in church today."
He nodded. We both knew we were in an incredible situation.
Molly Bell had been my best friend since schooldays. She was such a wonderful lady. I adored her, and so did my husband. Molly had married Bruce on the same day I had married John. It had been a wonderful double wedding.
Molly and I had always had a very close intimate relationship but the very secret intimacies had stopped after our marriages as neither of us wanted to upset our husbands. It didn't affect our friendship.
After the wedding, the four of us had remained best friends and went on holidays together regularly. We all genuinely liked each other. John and Bruce used to go out on Friday Evenings to play darts whilst Molly and I enjoyed quiet evenings together watching television. Every few months we would go out together for a nice meal in a posh restaurant. The men had good jobs so there were no money worries.
It was natural that Molly and I confided in each other about the secret things that went on in our marriages. Molly loved Bruce very much but there was some disappointment with the size of his little man.
We would have a little giggle from time to time about it falling out before Bruce could complete things and how apologetic he was. She would give a wry smile and say "Never mind, we are very happy and he has such fine qualities, the bedroom activities are not that important."
I felt sorry for her and gradually told her of my problems with John in much the same manner. John liked to dress up prettily from time to time and to cut a long story short he liked us to exchange our bedroom roles. I won't repeat all the activities here as I have expounded many of them in an earlier tale called The Guilt Trip.
After about fifteen years of our marriages, disaster struck in that Bruce had a heart attack. It was so sudden. In a matter of three days he had passed away. Both John and I supported Molly as much as we could, but she was inconsolable. All she could think about, was Bruce.
It was John who came up with the suggestion that he could give Molly a job in his office as a junior typist. I thought it was a wonderful idea. Even then I knew that she wouldn't be a Junior for very long. When she was in school with me, she was always the best in the class at just about everything. She was so nice, no one was jealous.
It worked out that way with her job working for John. In a few months she was a senior typist and then a little later she had extra duties added. John was over the moon with her work performance. All through this period she would insist on addressing John by his surname Mr Goode in work.
Whenever she came to our house she would revert to John. My husband did tell her many times that it would be quite in order for him to be called John in work, as most of the staff did. She was adamant that it was important for her to show respect.
After about a year John's secretary left to have her first baby. There was no competition for the job. Everyone knew that Molly was so good at everything, the job was hers by right.
John told me that from then on, she made his job so easy. She would always be at work before he arrived and met him with a cup of coffee and a list of his visitors with any additional details. She never wavered from her original position. In work he was always 'Mr Goode'.
I became a little bored staying at home and I started to work a few days a week in the General Office. With the way things worked out I was in effect working under Molly's supervision. This never showed and she was wonderful. I began to see just how good she was.
All of the staff tended to refer to her respectfully as Mrs Bell. When I did the same she became really cross saying "Please don't talk like that, Jenny. You are my best friend and I owe everything to you and John. You are my saviours."
Molly and I often went to the theatre or the cinema together and it was about this time that my old special feelings for her started to return. She wasn't a glamour model or anything like that but she was so lovely and homely, my heart went out to her. She was so sweet. I still loved John of course but I would talk to my friend about my husband's little special desires.
I think she already had a good idea but whenever he was in one of his unusual states and had to leave at lunchtime for his secret assignments she would make sure that his afternoon visits were cancelled correctly and there was no problem with his absence. Usually I would warn her beforehand that he would be leaving early. I covered this in my earlier Literotica tale.
So that is a very brief resume of the previous events. I have also explained what had happened when she had come home with us after Mass on that first momentous Sunday morning and changed everything.
It was at that time that both John and I had both become rather fixated with Molly or Mrs Bell as he sometimes called her. I had already told John how Molly and I had behaved together in earlier years and it had excited him even more. To be quite honest it excited me telling him.
We had known that Molly by her own admission became rather more fulsome after a glass of wine, and it seemed a possibility, that if we gave her some wine under the guise of a cherry drink that the situation could develop the way we wished.
We both loved her very much and would never do anything against her will, but we made excuses to ourselves that perhaps she would like it. Even that thought made us both have those special juicy feelings.
It had developed. Not in the way that John and I had planned. It had been out of this world. With her help we learnt things about ourselves that we had never dreamt.
Although our relationships in work were exactly as they had always been, Sundays had taken a taken a turn towards many secret excitements. To say that we enjoyed this change is an understatement. The excitement was mind-blowing. Every Sunday it started after Mass when we got home and had a glass of wine. We no longer had to pretend it was a cherry drink. Molly consciously liked the wine and said so.
This Sunday, John and I drove to church and took our usual pews. As usual we saw that Molly had already arrived and nodded pleasantly.
As always Father Francis was very solemn, but gave a lovely sermon about being helpful to our neighbours and be charitable to those worse off than ourselves. At the end of Mass, we all filed out and had general chats with our friends. Molly was always surrounded by people as she was such a pleasant person to talk to.
I signalled to her that John and I were making our way to the car and she smiled and called, "I'll see you at home."
When we got there John fussed around getting the tea ready and a few bottles of wine in readiness. When Molly arrived and we all settled down, I asked her if she wanted a cup of tea and hopefully added "We have some wine ready if you prefer, Mary?"
She smiled, "I think I would like a nice glass of wine, Jen. After Mass and that sermon of Father Francis, it seems so right." I could see my husband sigh. I knew this was a sign of his excitement. He brought the wine in. We had two types and I noticed he used the stronger alcoholic one and poured three large glasses.
We chatted a little further and she asked where the boys were. I laughed and said, "They are off somewhere. We don't really see them at the weekends.
John added pointedly, "We don't really want them here on Sundays, Molly."
She smiled, "He seems quite keen, Jen. Do you think he's ready?"
I nodded, "He's been ready since Friday, and so am I."
"That's nice Jen. He works so hard all the week. He deserves some leisure."
She turned to my husband, "Tell me, Mr Goode, have you been a good boy."
When Molly spoke like this it really aroused my husband. The term 'Mr Goode' seemed to have a special meaning for him. Actually it affected me as well. We were being transported into a different time. It was sort of grown up baby talk.
I spoke in the same manner, "He has been a good boy, Mrs Bell. He likes being a good little boy for you."
At work she would have told me off for calling her 'Mrs Bell' but this was different.
