It was true what Dorce had to say about heartbreak in a small village. In a big city these things could go unnoticed. Here, everybody knew what you were going through.
It was like that for Jem. His girlfriend, Stacey, had been offered the job of Deputy Head Teacher in a Primary School on the Isle of Wight. I think that Jem had always been keener on Stacey than she had been on him. She decided to make a clean break of it. Everybody in the village knew about it and everybody felt sorry for Jem.
Stacey and her friend, Jules, rented the flat that I owned above the village shop. When Stacey moved out I was aware that this would probably mean that Jules couldn't afford the rent. I was on the verge of telling the letting agents to reduce the monthly payment when Trev let it be known that he was moving in with Jules. Their love affair had gone from strength to strength. Trev always professed his love for Jules to anyone who would listen. Jules said that she was the luckiest girl in the world. Quite a few mature ladies around here thought that she was probably right; me amongst them.
I did instruct the letting agent to let them off the next two month's rent to help with their settling-in costs.
None of this helped Jem's situation. Whenever he wasn't working he would mope about the village with a long face and a large bulge in his trousers. He wasn't just missing Stacey's pretty face.
I saw him passing the pub window one morning. I opened the door and called him back into the pub. He looked around like he was lost, it was his first time in there.
"Are you OK Jem," I asked.
"I suppose so," he replied.
I nodded towards his crutch and said, "How's the little fella doing?"
"It aches like hell," Jem said.
"Do you want to give it a workout? I asked him. Like I said, I felt sorry for him.
"Yes please!" he said.
I bent over a table and pulled my skirt up above my waist. I dropped my knickers. I had to give them a little jiggle to get them past my stocking tops. As my drawers hit my shoes I deftly stepped out of one leg and spread my feet apart.
"There you go young man. Take as much time as you like," I instructed him.
Jem pulled down his jeans to his knees and positioned himself behind me. His cock is a reasonable size and I wasn't fully prepared so his initial penetration was a bit dry. It didn't take long for my juices to flow. Just lately, I'd almost forgotten the feeling of a fully hard younger man banging at my ample backside. Like I said, it's been a rough couple of years for everyone.
His staying power had greatly improved since he'd last shafted me. After quite a while it was going on slightly longer than I wanted. I love to be fucked but I also love to be spunked up. When I orgasmed, I thought the contractions would finish him off but he kept on relentlessly slapping his thighs against my bum. It was so loud I thought it may wake Harry.
Just then he pulled back slightly and, using my fanny juice as a lubricant, slipped his dick into my bum.
To be fair, I hadn't actually told him not to. And I did feel sorry for him.
Now, he did spunk up me. Quite a load in fact.
We both got ourselves straight. I gave him a little kiss on the cheek as I let him out of the pub door.
I felt quite good. It's always edifying to do something for charity.
-
The new Vicar and his wife seemed quite nice. He is about fifty and she's a little younger. They had previously been at an inner city church in Bristol although I believe they are originally from Surrey. I don't know how these things work but I guess you can only do that sort of work for so long. I like to think that they had been sent here as a reward.
The Bishop had informed the old Vicar that he had to retire. He didn't really want to.
The ladies from the Women's Institute made a collection and gave him a bloody useless gift. Helen made a speech and told him that he would be sorely missed.
"I bet you'll miss him, you dirty bitch. I know I will," I thought.
I didn't think that I could ask the new Vicar for the sort of spiritual guidance I got from the old one.
Afterwards, I walked back towards the tearoom with Helen.
"I feel really sorry for Jem. He's taking the loss of Stacey badly," she said.
"I know," I said.
Helen went on, "He came into the tearoom the other day. He didn't look happy at all. I made him a big mug of tea and a slice of bread pudding.
"He had this great big bulge in his trousers. There was no one else around so I took him into the stock room. Initially, I was just going to suck him off but I ended up riding him. That boy has some staying power. That Stacey must be an ungrateful cow. Some young women think there's more to life than just fucking; they'll learn later.
"It's good to do something for charity every now and then," Helen said.
-
I was relaxing in the garden after lunch. I had my book. I was thinking about a G&T but I don't want you thinking that I have a problem so I let it pass. You can guess where Harry was.
Suddenly, there was a banging on the side door of the pub.
I thought, "It can't be Rita, I didn't see her but I'm sure that the bar has been cleaned already today. If Harry's forgotten his keys again I'll shoot him."
I opened the garden gate and peered around to find the new Vicar's wife standing there. "Sorry, I knocked on the front door but got no answer so I thought that I'd try this one," she said.
I had spoken to her once in the tearoom but Helen and two ladies from the W.I. were there so I didn't get a chance to have a proper chat with her.
"Come into the garden," I said.
"Take a seat. Gin and Tonic?"
"Fuck me yes!" she replied. "Sorry, been living in Bristol too long."
"Don't worry about it," I laughed. I liked her already.
We had a general sort of back and forth. Asking nonsense questions and waiting for one of us to get to the point. I knew she was going to hit me with something, I just wasn't sure what it would be. Me flower arranging in the church? Me cake baking for underprivileged people? Surely, no one could be that underprivileged.
Then she cracked, "Helen tells me that you solve problems."
"Does she now, and what sort of problem could you have that I could solve? My limited expertise is rather specialist," I said.
"I'm not sure where to begin. I have a couple of problems. One is professional, if you call being a vicar's wife a profession. The other is personal. Very personal."
I asked, "Why don't we start with the personal. I think that there may just be a snowball's hope in hell there?
"After that I'd be glad to listen to the other problem. But it may not surprise you to learn that my experience of the tribulations of an Anglican cleric's wife are nonexistent."
"Thank you. I was afraid that you would dismiss both of them out of hand."
That was my first instinct but I was itching to know what the personal one was all about.
Faith, that's her name, started to explain, "Well, to put it bluntly, I'm not getting fucked.
I nearly choked.
"Colin is just not interested. I've tried the sexy underwear. I've tried playing the tart in the bedroom. He just won't take the bait.
"Well to be honest the not getting fucked thing is a slight exaggeration. In the last five years I've been finger fucked to orgasm when I pretended to pass out drunk at a church picnic. I have no idea who did it.
"I was fucked once when I was delivering food parcels in the St Paul's District three years ago. A man told me that I had no idea about the lives of the people who lived there. He dared me to share a joint with his friends. The details are still a bit hazy but I think I had four or five cocks.
