Author's note: The title is also a long running BBC radio show.
My name is Marjorie. To everyone looking at me, I seem like everyone's idea of a granny. Not that I meet those criteria. I'm over 60, which is all I will say about my age. Grey hair, with a bit of a wave. Flowery dresses and sensible shoes. I'm not fat but do have a bit of flab, around my middle. My boobs weren't bad, once. Now, they are heading south.
I live in a small rural village. Population in the hundreds, rather than the thousands. Nothing particularly picturesque, village hall, church, infants school, small shop and pub. The usual activities, mother and toddler group, Women's Institute, kids club.
I play the organ in church on Sunday and run coffee mornings for the Women's Institute. I've been on living on my own, for as long as I can remember. I was married. He was a gambler and a drunk. Long since gone. Luckily, the money I had inherited was secured in a trust fund, he couldn't get at. For most of the time I was married, a vibrator was my best friend. In the time since I kicked him out, I've increased my collection. That's not to say, that I've only been helping myself, for decades. Other people have helped me and I've helped others.
You would imagine, that the congregation of a church and the members of the Women's Institute, would have a limited conversation range. Charity jumble sales, baking cakes, making jam and flower arranging. The fund for repairing the church bell tower and so on. For the most part, that is exactly what happens. It is the exceptions, that make things fun. The odd gesture, inadvertent word, a touch between two people who shouldn't, which adds spice to village life.
One of the WI ladies, Brenda, complained that her husband Terry, was always pestering her in the bedroom. Deduction, he isn't getting any. I can't say it surprised me. She is one of the ultra religious ones, from the church. I only go to play music. Their house backs on to my garden. Brenda goes to a craft group, twice a week. One day, I said that he must have a good view, from their back bedroom. I began standing naked, in my back bedroom, when I knew she was out. At first he just looked, as I stroked by boobs and ran my hands over my body. I gather he told Brenda, that he had taken up ornithology. A set of binoculars on a tripod appeared. Now having a better view, I could tell that he was wanking his cock. When he'd cum, he would wave. I began to do it too, using dildos and vibrators. Bending over and showing him my ass.
As the organiser of coffee mornings, I have the contact numbers of all of the local WI members. I began calling him, while we masturbated. We would tell each other, what we would like to do to each other. The addition of sound, when we had an orgasm, added to the naughty nature. As the weeks progressed, we got bolder. Our rear gardens were relatively short in depth. A small lane gives access to the each back garden but it was pretty overgrown. Nobody really uses it. All of the gardens had a rear gate to access it. We started popping into each other's houses, when Brenda was out. Done with masturbation, we would spend an hour fucking, before returning to our own houses. He particularly liked doing me from behind. Plenty of plump bum to grab hold of. He seldom if even got sex with Brenda. When he did, it was purely missionary. He'd never received a blowjob or gone down on a woman. Too dirty for his wife. We remedied both, regularly.
All good things come to an end. Brenda, being the sensible one, forced a move. They went to an over 55s retirement complex. I wonder if she would be aware, that she was moving her husband, to an old ladies knocking shop. He did phone me, to say he'd already found a few willing lady friends.
I don't just confine myself to unfortunate husbands. I'm not particular, where I get my enjoyment, as long as I get it. A large house at the end of the village, had been passed down to a pair of sisters. They had lived there, for as long as anyone could remember. Neither had married. Both were regulars in the church and could be heard above almost everyone, during the hymns. They were having a tea party and asked if I would play the piano for them. Why not, something to do for the afternoon. I thought it strange, that there were no men attending. Maybe not, as the sisters remained unmarried. I only recognised half a dozen of the women. I asked one of the guests, not a local, how everyone knew each other. They had all been to the same convent school, not too far away. This was a reunion. I'm nosy. Looking around, only about half of the women wore wedding and engagement rings. As the afternoon wore on, the thirty or so women gathered in small groups or pairs. Presumably, linked to their friendships at the school.
In a break from playing and looking for some different sheet music, from my case, a lady approached me. Handsome in the country house, horsey set, style. Long sleeved shirt and a tweed waistcoat.
"Did you go to the school? I don't recognise you."
"No. I play the organ in the local church. The sisters asked me to play for your entertainment."
"Is this the only sort of playing you do?"
Sensing her intent. I replied.
"No, I like all sorts of games."
One of the sisters, whisked her away, indicating that more piano music was required. I played on for another hour. The party seemed to be winding down. I noticed several of the women, dispersing round the house in twos or threes. Most but not all of the married women departed. I had a pretty good idea of what was going on. A packed up my music case and went to the hallway, to collect my coat. The waistcoat lady, was stood talking to one of the sisters. They kissed each other on each cheek. She put on a tweed hacking jacket and walked on to the drive.
"Do you need a lift?"
"Please. I'm at the other end of the village."
She showed me to a dark grey Range Rover. Horsey type, confirmed. Instead of turning left at the end of the drive, she turned right.
"My place is that way." I said pointing
"And mine is this way. I'm Patricia."
"Marjorie."
A few minutes later, we pulled in to the drive of a huge thatched house. She pulled in to a timber framed, thatched car port.
"Mum and dad's place. I'm down here."
She strode off at a rapid rate, I struggled to keep up. We ended up, at an old barn, with a massive amount of glass, where the central barn doors had been.
"Enough tea for one day. What do you want?"
She indicated a shelf, loaded with bottles of spirits. I opted for whisky and ginger ale. She chose he same and dropped a couple of ice cubes in each. She told me about the afternoon. Most of the women, even the married ones, were relatively local. None had strayed too far, from where they went to school. If they went to university, they had come back. Those who were staying at the house, had travelled a fair distance to get there. They were staying for a few days. None of the women were getting any younger and wanted to catch up, while they were still able to enjoy it.
"You probably saw people disappearing upstairs. The thing is, we all like playing games, if you know what I mean."
I was beginning to get the idea. Apparently, Maisie and Ellen, the two sisters were notorious. Ellen is bisexual and Marcie strictly lesbian, they held regular parties, for select groups of friends. My interest was piqued.
