The Organist Entertains

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.

"Is that what you were talking to Ellen about, as I was leaving?"

"Possibly. I watched you, while you were at the piano. You weren't just looking around, you were sizing people up. You only do that sort of thing, if you are a people watcher, or want to get into their knickers. Which are you?"

"Probably the latter. I don't know if I totally fit what you or Ellen might be after. I have varied tastes."

"We won't be bothered if you aren't. If I get your meaning, either sex will float your boat."

I nodded. She told me, that Maisie was women only but Ellen was up for anything, which got her off. She had been with both sisters at one time or another. Not to mention, the farrier who shod her horses and a couple of the local delivery drivers. Most of the women had decided, they wanted to make the most of life. None of them were getting any younger. I explained about Terry and his subsequent departure and an month or so of masturbation.

"Time to remedy that."

She put down her glass and motioned for me to follow her. Upstairs was a large open mezzanine looking down to the lounge. This was mirrored on the other side. Across this open level, a large wet room and a bedroom. No hesitation, she started stripping her clothes off and tossing them on to a small sofa, at the foot of the bed.

From the back, if it wasn't for her buttocks, she could be taken for a man. Short hair, which looked to be dyed black. 5' 8" tall, broad shoulders, not much in the way of a waist. Her legs, in particular her thighs, looked strong. A consequence of all the horse riding? She turned round. With a dick, she could actually pass as a man. Her breasts only slight mounds, with small nipples. Her stomach flat, no pubic hair, just a neat crease, over an inch long, visible.

In comparison, I looked positively matronly. Thankfully, I'd started trimming my pubes, when the thing with Terry started. I'd carried on. Hoping my new neighbours would be worth getting to know. I was now showing a neat grey stubble in a small triangle.

"Are you still happy, now you have seen my flabby old body?"

"Some of the others are far bigger than you. It doesn't mean they aren't fun. You probably saw a couple of them today."

She said that the lady with the black skirt and long paisley blouse is Maisie's current squeeze. Her tits are huge and her ass is way bigger than mine. Maisie likes to lick her asshole, while she nearly suffocates but rubs her clit to orgasm. A bit like an asphyxia fetish. She told me that most of them had kinks or fetishes to some extent.

"What's yours?" I asked.

"When I'm with men, I like to peg them in the ass. You would be surprised how many like it. The farrier is one of them, I let him do mine in return. With women, wrapping my legs round them, when they go down on me, so they can't stop. You?"

"Dildos and vibrators lately. I've got used to them over the years. I think Terry liked watching that too."

"You will get on with Ellen, she has a massive collection."

"How is it, that nobody else in the village knows all this stuff. They are in church every week, singing away. They don't invite people to their house and don't get involved, with any of the usual village activities."

"All of us are happy with how things are. Most of us have been together since school. One or two have been added over the years. You will probably be another. Ellen and myself keep our male friends away from the house. Enough talking, let's see if you make the grade."

No foreplay. She was just expecting me to go straight for her pussy. Not that it didn't look inviting. On the bed, knees spread wide, her narrow labia slightly open. I aimed my mouth at the inviting sight. As soon as my head got close, she crossed her feet behind my back. As I suspected her thigh muscles were incredibly toned and strong. For me, the chance of entering a world like this, was not to be missed. I've been with a couple of women but I wouldn't call myself experienced. Still, I know what I like and hoped she would too. Her aroma filled my nostrils, my nose pressed firmly to her pubis. I could see nothing other than her stomach. I could hear her breath but no other sound. Even when she came, just breathing but heavier. More and more. My tongue ached, my jaw felt sore, my lips crushed on her. I think I counted half a dozen, of these silent orgasms, before she released me.

I think I was breathing heavier than her, as I got upright, sitting on the bed. Her face and the nape of her neck were bright red. I wiped my face, with the back of my hand. I moved closer to her face.

"Are you alright? I'm not used to people being that quiet, even men grunt and groan."

"I'm fine. We got used to keeping quiet in the convent. Some of us just stuck with it. Others scream the place down, because they can."

"You said earlier, that you fuck men in the ass and that one did yours. Is that all you do with them?"

She told me that anal was her thing with the farrier. Like the women in the group, it was an individual thing. It depended on what they both liked. One of the delivery men, could get her to cum just by fucking, no clitoral stimulation, just the angle of his cock thrusts.

"Did I pass the test?"

"More than that. Even Ellen couldn't get me off that many times, at least to start with. Reward time. You like toys, try this."

She got off the bed and opened a cupboard and pulled out a Sybian. I'd heard about these but never seen one, in the flesh. Way too expensive for me to buy one. She plugged it in and tossed me some lubricant. It looked like she had it set for double penetration. The vaginal part bigger and wider than the anal part.

"Are you alright with it like that" There are other fittings."

"I've not done anal in a few years but it doesn't look too big."

I applied some of the fluid to the two uprights and what I could only call a clit rubber. I knelt over it and lowered myself down. Patricia, pushed the anal probe forward a little and I eased it in. I thought she was going to give me the control. Just as she was earlier, she wanted to take charge. Holy cow the vibrations were strong. She ran it up and down the settings. I leant forward, contacting my clit on the raised pimples. She wound up the power and movement.

"Aaaaaaaaaaa."

The power backed off but not for long. Up again, possibly more than last time.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

My anus was still pulsing round the insertion. I'd not had anything, toy or dick in my bum for years. It felt strange, especially with both holes filled. The power was now more than I could take. My arms were waving, my mouth open, I leant back. It relieved the pressure on my clit but added more to my anus.

She realised my discomfort and turned it off. Three orgasms, not unusual apart from the incredible intensity. I'd forgotten how sensitive my anus could be.

"That's the only thing that gets me off, more than women's tongues."

I looked down the sides of the device were streaked in my juices. I raised up on my knees releasing the probes. She took me to the wet room. When we were clean, I got dressed, she just wrapped herself in her towel. We went downstairs and she poured us another whisky. She told me that she often walked around naked. She saw her dad sitting in a garden chair, rubbing his groin, under cover of a newspaper. She just stood there, drinking a cup of tea until he finished. Her mum was in the garden doing some weeding. She knew what he was doing but said nothing.

"I've no problem with him getting a kick. At his age, it's good that he can still get it up. I don't think mum minds as it saves her doing it."

She ordered and paid for a taxi, not wanting to drink and drive. Contact from the group would come at some point, when Ellen and Maisie were given a report. Her parents were walking round their garden, as I left. I gave them a wave. I wondered if they could see up on to the mezzanine, from outside.

Before I heard from any of them, an update on the house front. There were signs of activity from Brenda and Terry's old place. Removals men unloading boxes and bringing things into the back garden. I've said that the gardens are short, meaning that the backs of the houses facing each other, aren't that far apart. However, the gardens are wide. it means that it is hard to see in to the other houses and gardens. I think at one time, our row of houses had longer gardens. The row where Terry had lived, were newer and were probably built in the gardens of our row. Even from upstairs, I struggled to see into my neighbours gardens. As it turned out, this may have been the reason, the new couple chose the house.

When they appeared they were a couple in their fifties. They were viewing their new garden. Probably working out where to put things. It was quite overgrown, as it had been left for quite a while. I opened the spare room window and shouted a hello and gave them a wave.

"Welcome to the village. I'm Marjorie."

I pointed downwards and went to meet them. I crossed the garden and opened the gate, knocking on theirs. The man opened it. They were Cliff and Maureen. They had moved here, to be closer to their son and grandchildren. I told them that when they were settled, to come across for a drink.

"Just knock on the back door."

They headed back in to supervise the removals men. At about 7pm there was a knock on the door. They looked tired. I invited them in, through the kitchen into the sitting room.

"Do you need anything to eat?"

"No, we had fish and chips. No washing up." Maureen said.

I offered them a drink and we had a glass of wine. Cliff had sold his company and taken early retirement, to be near family. Maureen had been his secretary. I told them about religious Brenda. The said that there were marks on the walls, where several crucifixes had been.

"We don't go in for all that stuff." He said

"Me neither. I play the organ in the church but just for the music. I've no interest in the service."

The liked how quiet the village was, local pub nearby and not too overlooked. I agreed. Only the houses directly opposite could see into the garden. With the bathroom and small bedroom at the rear, it wasn't really a problem. I mentioned that the only users of the lane, had been me, Terry and Brenda. Not telling them that Brenda never set foot in it. You would need a machete to get through the rest of it. At the end of the evening, they headed home. I'd told them to pop round any time.

A week later there was a knock on the door, just after lunch. Maureen. Cliff had gone to play golf with their son and she wanted a bit of company. We discussed how they were settling in. I told her about the WI. I don't think she was that interested. They were more the pub sort. She told me that they had big plans for the garden. It was one the reasons they chose the house. A new greenhouse, vegetable plot, a pergola and a hot tub. They liked to relax at the end of a day. You'll have to come over when it's put in. We swapped phone numbers and she went off to get dinner for Cliff.

I was finally summoned to see Maisie and Ellen, no mention of Patricia being there. I walked up the drive and knocked the door. It felt like being summoned to see a school headmistress. Maisie invited me in. Ellen was waiting in a small snug, I hadn't seen during the party, I had played at. I took a seat.

"Don't look so nervous, we don't bite. We just wanted to meet you properly and tell you about our expectations." Ellen said.

"Can I ask a question?"

"Go ahead."

"Everyone in the village thinks you are a couple of dried up spinsters. In church every week. There is no sign of anything untoward. Do you really do the things Patricia told me about?"

"We cultivate that image. People leave us alone and don't ask questions. We get our wine and spirits delivered from a merchants miles away, in a plain van. We party like everyone else, just on our own terms. We're far from dried up. Maisie here, gets pretty wet."

I tried and failed to suppress a laugh.

She told me, that this was their ancestral home. They grew up there. Their father had caught them masturbating each other. They were sent to the convent school, about thirty miles away, assuming the tendency would be beaten out of them. They just learned more. After they left school, some went to university, some came back home. A lot had eventually been drawn back to this area. Most of the ladies from that era, had stayed in touch. Touch being the operative term. They would meet up either in small groups or large parties. They one I played piano at, was the latter.