It was Thursday and Maggie stood at the ironing board clad only in her panties and bra lethargically doing the weeks ironing. Maggie had a time slot for all the household chores: Monday was washing day; Tuesday was vacuuming and shopping day; Wednesday was get everything out of the cupboards and putting it back again day; Thursday was always ironing day and Friday was cake and pie making day.
The weekends were less organised and this was partially because her twenty two year old son Robert was around the place and his lifestyle, unlike Maggie's, was chaotic. If the weekend had any category at all it might be called, "Pick up Robert's dropped things time."
Apart from that the only regular thing at the weekends was Maggie's attendance at the local church.
If asked why she always did things at the same time every week she would probably have answered, "Because that's the way my mother did it," and if pressed she would say, "And that's the way her mother did it."
Of course Maggie did not take account of the equipment that had appeared since her mother's and especially her grandmother's time: machines to wash clothes; machines to do the washing up, mix and stir things, suck up mess from carpets and even an electric gadget to open tins, and this meant that Maggie had far more time on her hands than her mother or grandmother had experienced.
Was Maggie happy with this orderly way of life? No she was not, most emphatically she was not. The problem was she didn't know how to get out of the routine. She suffered from inertia in the sense that once pushed in a certain direction it would take a massive counter push to change that direction.
There were times when she wished she had a job. That at least might add a little interest to her life, but no strong counter push had emerged to get her going in that direction.
As a teenager she had been a bright, slim, attractive girl, and if anything had changed in her life it was that. At forty two she was over weight and her once nicely firm breasts that had been contained in 36C bras, now needed 42Gs and even then they always seemed in danger of spilling out of the overstrained cups.
Once long slim legs were now just as long, but seemed shorter because they were so thick and heavy. And as for her waist and thighs, well, perhaps it's better not to reflect on them.
Facially she might be classified as not too bad, and she might even have been called attractive if she had not worn a perpetual frown of discontent. She was still ripe of lip with the lower lip always looking seductively moist and shiny; her eyes, always considered her most attractive feature, sea green and long lidded, always seemed to have a dull look about them.
If her current condition was traced back to its source, then the title and name, The Reverent Michael Joss would arise.
If and when Maggie thought about him it was always in terms of, "That bastard Joss who fucked me while I sat on the vestry table and made me pregnant."
Joss, married with two children, had, as people say, "Taken advantage of sweet innocent Maggie." Whether Maggie was quite as innocent as people supposed is arguable; she had been as enamoured of the handsome and virile minister as he was of her, and Maggie had not objected to having his penis in her vagina, although the first time was quite painful because he'd split her hymen.
It all came to an end when Maggie became pregnant. Joss blamed Maggie saying that he thought "the stupid bitch was on the pill."
A forgiving church transferred Joss to a distant rural parish where he was likely to spend the rest of his ministerial career. Maggie's parents sued on her behalf, and especially as Maggie was according to law under age, the case was won and the church paid out a considerable sum of money. It was this money that had sustained Maggie and Robert over the following years.
For a while Maggie felt an aversion to penises, but gradually overcoming this aversion she'd had a few men in her life. Some might have married her if Robert had not been on the scene, and certainly Robert's wild behaviour would prove a strong deterrent for any possible marital bliss.
In recent years, and with her increasing avoirdupois, Maggie had found that love or lust lorn swains were not so easy to come by. Thus one of the most pleasurable distractions in her otherwise dull life had declined to vanishing point.
There were times when standing naked before the mirror Maggie muttered, "Who'd want my body anyway?"
* * * * * * * *
Maggie had been at the ironing for about half an hour and the basket still seemed full of things to be ironed. She had just reached the layer which contained Robert's shirts and underwear of which there always seemed to be a large accumulation.
She got through a couple of shirts and then plucked underpants from the heap. She plied the iron slowly, but it got even slower as Maggie seemed to be deep in thought.
She moved the iron delicately over the crotch of the pants, and as she did so a vision arose of the penis that would be nestling in it.
Maggie had always been curious about Robert's penis. Joss' penis had been very substantial and she had wondered if penis size was a matter of genetics and if Robert would inherit the same generous organ as his father. On the odd occasions she had caught sight of his penis she was pleased to note that genetic or not, Robert's penis seemed to outstrip that of his father's.
