Molly was sixtyish (which could have meant anything) anyway that's what she told us. Sort of chubby, but not as chubby as some of us, and fresh pinky complexion white hair, at least on her head it was... and probably a bit smarter that most of us. Several glasses of Chardonnay brought the following tale to the table one evening when we met at the Randolph in Oxford.
*
I had been a widow for many years, It would have been longer but he wouldn't eat the mushrooms first time, well, its been a long time, and I have passed the grief stage a long time ago and I know he would have appreciated my little joke. It was a good marriage, short, but good, I never was inclined to re marry, and as far as needs were concerned, well, I managed if you get my drift. No kids, the house paid for and a few bob in the bank.
Life pottered along, and I pottered with it, gardening, bingo, outings, WI sometimes in my little car and sometimes with friends or the over sixties club.
I had a wide circle of friends, apart from you lot, both male and female, though mainly female, and if I had a job needing doing some gentleman would oblige...No! Not like that... you know, if something needed fixing or anything.
The day this incident started, it was just before lunch, I was pottering in the garden, doing a bit of weeding. The telephone rang in the house, they rang off just as I was about to lift the hand set. I muttered, put my gardening gloves back on and started towards the door. The phone trilled again. Off with the gloves and this time I lifted the handset...
"Hello?"
"Molly?"
"Yes."
"It's Marjorie."
"Oh hello Marjorie how are you?"
"Molly dear, can I ask a favour?"
"Course you can dear, what's the trouble?"
"No trouble, can you pop over for a bite of lunch and a chat?"
"When's that Marjorie."
"Well, now if you're free. Bit short notice I know."
"I've just been doing some weeding so if you give me about ten minutes to wash up and I'll come over."
I had known Marjorie and Gerald for more years than I care to remember, they were there when I lost my Robert. Now Marjorie sometimes needed me as Gerald suffered with dementia.
"I wondered if you would be willing to help some friends of ours, we were going to accommodate their son while he was here at Oxford, but unfortunately, Gerald is deteriorating and gets very confused with strangers, I would be grateful if you could take the lad while he's here. They are not badly off and would insist on paying the going rate."
"I hadn't really thought of a lodger, but I do have plenty of room, and if he was a reasonable young man I don't think I would have a problem with that."
"Could you make it for lunch tomorrow, the family are coming up and you can meet them. But he's quite a sweetie really, unlike his sister who is a right tomboy."
I went to lunch the following day, and was stunned at the gathering. Gerald wasn't there; he was at a day centre so I offered Marjorie a hand in the kitchen.
"No, No, you come in here and meet the family and the young man concerned."
The gentleman's clothes gave him away, dark suit, and purple vest, gold chain and crucifix.
"This is the Right Reverend the Bishop of Blankton on Blythe."
I was stunned for a moment.
"My Lord."
"This is Mary, his wife and secretary."
"Jane, their daughter, and of course, young Nicholas."
"Don't be so formal Marjorie, Please Molly, call me Anthony."
"Shouldn't I call you My Lord?"
"Formally yes you should, but it does get a bit silly in the house with friends doesn't it."
He put a fatherly arm around Jane's shoulder.
"We are very proud of Jane, she's to be ordained next month, and we rather hope that Nicholas will also find the calling."
Nicholas looked decidedly bored.
Marjorie served a nice enough lunch and after 'grace' by Anthony conversation resumed over the meal.
"Are you a church goer Molly?"
"No sir..."
"Anthony."
"No Anthony, I say my prayers, I have my beliefs and I have my own morality, but no, not a church goer."
"Not to worry, we all have our ways don't we. Do you think you can cope with a young rascal like Nicholas?"
"Oh I think so, I am easy going, can get along with most folk."
"Well if he gives you any problems just you let me know, a few weeks without his allowance will soon sort him out. And if its alright with you, Mary can arrange to pay his way direct to your bank each month, or we can arrange cash if that's better, of course cash is best then you don't have to mess about going to the bank, that's what we'll do then. It's sorted. Make a note Mary, Cash, monthly in advance."
Following lunch there was more small talk. Marjorie asked if I would like to show them my home and Nicholas' accommodation. I passed the inspection, and told them that if they liked, seeing it was nearly term start he could move in the next day.
That evening, I spring cleaned the room, directly opposite mine, cleaned the bathroom and toilet and the wash basin in the room. Put a small table in as a study desk, table lamp, you know, all the usual, fresh towels on the foot of the bed, the place was clean, but I freshened it up.
They rolled up about lunch time, Anthony was in casual clothes, and after dropping Nicholas' bags off they took me to lunch at one of the many local hostelries. Around fourish they said their good byes and departed leaving Nicholas and I to get to know each other.
I showed him round the house again, the toilet, bathroom, etc, and then over a cup of tea we sat for a chat.
"Well Nicholas, what are you going to be studying."
"Would you mind, can you call me Nick, not Nicholas, I don't like being called that."
"Yes, I'd like that, Nick sounds so much more friendly."
"Thanks. Can I just ask, do you mind if I drink."
"I wouldn't want you to come in drunk, but no, I like a glass of wine myself, or sometimes a beer."
"No, I don't get drunk, but I do enjoy a beer."
"I would like you to feel at home here, so there are some keys, so you can come and go as you please. Help yourself to food if I am not around, although I eat and can have a meal for you at about six each evening. And if you find we are running short of something please do let me know so that we don't run out."
"Oh and another thing, sometimes I have a nap in the afternoon, so if I am asleep in the chair please don't disturb, I'm not as young as I used to be."
"I don't mind you having music, or the TV or wireless, but not too heavy, as it could give me as I can get grumpy with a migraine, You will notice I have carpets throughout, so please leave your out door shoes at the door. You do have slippers don't you."
"Yes, I have slippers, and I will try to be considerate, I am not into heavy music anyway."
We whiled away the time until I offered a light meal around seven. Then we spent the evening watching the tele. The next few weeks passed quite peacefully and Nick and I got on well, no great hassles, except for one little niggle. There were always quite a few snotty handkerchiefs in his washing, and I couldn't recall seeing him with a runny nose or sneezing much.
I don't quite remember which day it was, Nick was out, wherever, I had been in the garden doing some pruning, it was after lunch as I recall, the small Sherry didn't help and I went into the lounge, kicked off my slippers and settled into my favourite chair for a nap, I don't know how long I dozed, probably about an hour. I awoke to a squeak of a floor board in the room above my head, followed by a slightly fainter squeak. I instantly recognised the sound from my own room.
I am no shrinking violet, lived alone too long to be scared of a noise, and I was half way up the stairs before I realised it could be dangerous, and proceeded more stealthily. From the top of the stairs I saw my room door open, and inside, there was Nick, I paused, curious. The second drawer of my dressing table was open; Nick had his back to me. In the mirror I could see his reflection. His cock, which looked from where I was standing an average member, was being exercised, wrapped in a pair of my knickers, while a second pair which I recognised as having been changed this morning was being held to his face. I backed down the stairs as quietly as I could. I put the kettle on, and sat at the table for a moment to gather my thoughts.
Suddenly the 'snotty handkerchiefs' dawned on me. It wasn't snot! I had thought I was getting through more knickers than usual. It all came together in a blinding flash of inspiration. I am not slow girls, just hadn't given it a thought, well with the Bishop, the ordained sister, you wouldn't think such a thing would you, well I didn't.
One thing I will say, the sight of that cock did stir a little pudding that was expanding if you get me. It had been a very long time, and an itch was developing. How was I to tackle the situation?
Nick hurried down the stairs.
"See you, back about five thirty."
The door banged, he was gone... for now. I had a little time to think.
The itch down below was becoming uncomfortable. My mind was racing. His father had said about problems, should I speak to his father? What would happen if I challenged him? I suppose he would deny it, or maybe just brazen it out. All the while my itch continued. His cock wasn't so bad, decent length if memory served, I felt quite uncomfortable.
I went to the bathroom and retrieved the knickers from yesterday, and deeper in the linen bin there was the damp handkerchief. Then to the bed room, second drawer, my knicker drawer, it didn't take a genius, crumpled, top of the pile, and a tiny wet spot near the gusset.
The evidence assembled, I returned to the kitchen, goodness me that itch was getting worse. I placed the items on the spare chair and sat again at the table. Think girl, think. It clicked, I was going to seduce this lad, in such a way that he wouldn't dream of betraying me, I had been very many years without a cock and I decided that was going to change.
I changed my clothes just a little, my slacks for a waist slip and a kilt styled skirt I always wore stockings anyway and I selected a pair of white sandal styled mules, I liked a slight heel, I think they can do something for a leg. My plain cotton blouse was replaced with a fine lawn one, not very, just slightly see through.
The casserole in the oven wouldn't spoil; I turned the temperature down a little more just to make sure.
Five twenty.
"I'm back!" Nick hurried in. "I'm starving, is dinner ready?
"Not for a while, come in here Nick, We need to talk."
He looked a little cautious.
"Nick I have problem, and we need to sort out what to do about it."
"What's the problem, what can I do to help?"
With a flourish I deposited the incriminating evidence, dumping it, spreading it on the table two pairs of knickers, one soiled from wearing, one spotted with a recent drop of cum and one damp handkerchief.
"This is the problem, and I don't know whether I should speak to your father about it or..."
He blushed deeply.
".... Or whether we can sort it out amicably between the two of us."
"Oh God, please, please don't tell dad, he will go mad."
"Well I can't be doing with soiled knickers..."
I relished using the word to tease him,
"...and spunky handkerchiefs are not my cup of tea either."
"I am so sorry, so sorry I don't know what to say, what can I do?"
"Smelling dirty knickers is a real pervert's thing isn't it, and as if that wasn't bad enough, to soil my clean ones, that I am going to wear is even worse. You don't even rinse out your handkerchiefs; just leave them damp and sticky in the laundry bin. That is quite quite disgusting."
He was squirming in his seat; if it hadn't been the threat of speaking to his father I think he would have fled the scene.
"What have you got to say on this whole sordid affair?"
He hung his head.
