1911 The Parson's Freewheeling Wife

Her name was Mrs Augustine Flowers by virtue of the fact that she was married to the Reverend Doctor Augustine Flowers. She was christened Maud.

Reverend Flowers was fifteen years older than Maud. They had wed twenty years earlier. Prior to that questions had been asked of Augustine. He was forty years old and the vicar of a medium-sized village in Dorset. The Church of England liked their parsons to be married and that is why questions had been asked.

Maud wasn't unattractive but at the age of twenty-five she was unmarried. Her mother often questioned her as to why that should be.

"Because nobody has asked me, Mother. Simply that, because nobody has asked me," Maud would reply.

As fate would have it, Maud was at school with a lady who was now married to the incumbent of the neighbouring parish to that of the Reverend Doctor Augustine Flowers. This friend, being of a logical persuasion, thought of Maud.

Maud was grateful to Clara, that was the friend's name, for thinking of her. When Maud thought about it, she felt that although she didn't know Augustine Flowers, and had never met him, perhaps given time she could grow to love him and he her.

Indeed, Augustine had proven to be a kind, considerate and indulgent husband. Maud, likewise, had done everything she could to make him happy.

Much to her disappointment, during their twenty years of marriage, Augustine had only tried to make love to her on three occasions. While he had gained a modest erection and achieved limited penetration each time, Maud felt that he had been thinking of another person in another place at another time while he did it. As soon as he lost concentration his penis lost interest. On none of those occasions had he fully completed the task.

Maud thought that it was fairly obvious that he was....... Well, never mind what she thought because what she thought was unthinkable.

Having said this, Augustine indulged every other passion that she had. The latest of these was bicycling. There was a garage in the village which repaired motor vehicles and sold petroleum spirits. They also, from time to time, sold bicycles. Augustine had purchased for Maud a Raleigh No.12 with a Lady's frame. It had a chain guard and a wheel guard, both carefully designed to prevent ladies from catching their skirts. Augustine spared no expense. Maud's bicycle was equipped with Sturmney-Archer three speed gears as well as a basket on the front and a saddle bag at the rear which carried a small tool kit and puncture outfit.

She could often be seen whizzing around the parish doing charitable works. Every Thursday she would ride over to visit her friend Clara.

From this you may conclude that Augustine Flowers was a man without passion, you would be incorrect. He had a passion and that passion was Cricket.

At Cambridge he had played for his college. On two occasions he had played for the University but never won a blue. In his prime he had been a fine all-rounder and an excellent fielder. These days he kept wicket and batted in the middle order for the village side.

When they played home games. Maud helped with the teas. She liked to do it because the team consisted of men from every stratum of village life. While they maintained the due deference of their social class every man was equally entitled to groan when their social superiors dropped an easy catch or gave away their wicket too cheaply. These little things made Maud smile.

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Early Spring and Maud was returning from visiting Clara. Although the journey followed an undulating course it had a certain symmetry. Each upward hill was preceded by a downward hill and vice versa. With skillful use of the gears and determination, Maud could generate enough momentum on a downward hill to enable her to pedal up the upward hill.

The exception to this was the Linden Hill road. It wasn't particularly steep but it was long. Obviously, on the outward downhill leg this wasn't an issue. Whenever Maud returned from her visits she was never able to complete the last thirty yards of Linden Hill without dismounting and walking to the summit.

On this day, as Maud approached the top of the hill, pushing her bicycle, she passed the gate of a Small Holding. Leaning over that gate was a man of about thirty.

As Maud drew alongside the gate the man said, "Good afternoon. Lovely weather."

Maud responded with, "Good afternoon. Yes, I believe that we could be in for a nice Summer."

A further four or five paces and Maud was about to remount her bicycle when the man called out, "Don't that saddle excite your cunny?"

So outrageous was this that the shock didn't register with her until Maud had started to pedal off. She pedalled more quickly.

...................................

Saturday afternoon came around and the village team had a home game. Their usual scorer was indisposed so Maud was drafted in to do the job. She didn't mind, she was good with figures and Augustine had taught her the finer points of scoring a few years ago. She was quite pleased with herself. The scorebook looked neat and she hadn't made any errors.

The Reverend Flowers had had a good knock, taken two catches, and the team had won. So, all in all, a good day.

After Sunday Service, the next day, they had arrived home to find that Cook had spoiled the luncheon.

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On Thursday, on her way to visit Clara, Maud had pedalled up the short side of Linden Hill and had just started the descent of the long side. As she passed the gate of the Small Holding she couldn't resist the temptation to see if the man was standing there.

He wasn't.

Clara was her usual vivacious self. Full of local gossip and family news. Her son was completing his studies at University and would be joining the Church. His father was delighted. Her daughter was soon to be engaged to a local doctor, Clara was delighted.

Maud made good progress on the return journey. The bicycle was going well. Buoyed by this, Maud was determined to ascend the long side of Linden Hill without dismounting. She failed miserably.

Forty yards from the summit she had to walk and push the bicycle.

He was there. Leaning over the gate. Pipe in hand.

"Good afternoon," said the man, "lovely day."

Never one to be impolite, Maud said, "Good afternoon." She felt disinclined to comment on the climatic conditions.

She walked on a further five or six paces and was about to remount her bicycle when the man called out, "Don't that saddle excite your cunny?"

Maud was annoyed. She thought that maybe she had misheard him the first time. She mounted the bicycle and sped off down the hill.

It is a strange fact that often we don't think about something until someone points it out to us. After that, it can become all that we think about.

Not once had Maud given any consideration to the fact that her bicycle saddle was in close proximity to her most private parts. All the way home, she thought of little else.

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For the most part, the stipend of a country Parson is modest. In many cases the incumbent relies on some private additional income.

This was the case with the Reverend Doctor Augustine Flowers. His father had been a prominent aristocratic landowner in the area around and about Corfe Castle in Dorset. When his father died the title and the land had passed to Augustine's eldest brother. This brother had subsequently gone on to have sons of his own.

These acts had left Augustine and his two other brothers surplus to requirement. Their father, not being devoid of care, had left each of them a reasonable, but by no means substantial, sum of money. Each brother had been given the option of either taking this as a lump sum or as an income.

As often was the case, the two elder brothers had taken the bequest and had gone off to create a new life in the Colonies. One to Australia and the other to New Zealand.

For various and complex reasons, including fear of the unknown and a sense of religious calling, Augustine had chosen to take the income. This allowed him to live a fairly comfortable life as a Vicar in the Church of England.

He lived in a parsonage provided by the Church but used his own money to maintain a Cook and a Housekeeper; not to mention a wife.

This left Maud with very little to do in terms of the domestic realm. Still, it gave her time to involve herself with charitable works.

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The warm weather continued.

As usual on a Thursday Maud went to visit Clara. She could avoid Linden Hill if she wanted to. She could, but that would involve quite a protracted detour and several hills far longer and steeper than Linden. Why should she do this?

On the outward journey she couldn't stop herself looking at the gate of the Small Holding as she passed. There was no sign of him.

The contour of Linden Hill forced her dismount on the return stage of her journey. Her heart beat faster as Maud came alongside the gate.

He was not to be seen.

Relieved but shaking slightly, she pushed the bicycle towards the crest of the hill where she could remount and speed onwards.

Even then, she half expected him to step out from behind a hedge or somewhere and ask her the question again.

But he didn't.

Maud stepped onto the pedal and sat upon the saddle as she started to make her escape.

But unfortunately the seed had been sown and the thought had been planted. In her head Maud could hear his voice saying, "Don't that saddle excite your cunny?"

Alas, Maud knew the answer. And pedalling faster didn't lessen the feeling.

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As well as taking care of the floral displays in the church Maud would spend her days collecting donations of food and such like from people who had very little and distributing them to people who had even less with the promise that God would reward them all in the long run. Just lately she had given up any hope that God would reward her. Her only wish was that he wouldn't punish her too much for her thoughts.

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The long dry Summer showed no sign of ending. In the village it had become the primary topic of conversation. Not every day was hot but every day was dry.

This Thursday it was dry and hot, very hot Indeed.

As Maud returned from her visit to Clara she could generate enough forward motion on her bicycle to compensate for the total lack of breeze. That was until she was only half way up the Linden Hill road. At that point she had to stop and dismount. Her legs just couldn't pedal any more. The heat and the stifling air enveloped her.

Maud had her hair piled on her head held in place with hairpins. On top of this was a straw boater held in place with a hatpin. The hat was supposed to keep the sun off of her but it was having only limited success.

As she trudged up the hill pushing her bicycle Maud would have loved to throw off her hat and pull the pins from her hair. She couldn't do this. No married woman would be so shameless as to let her hair down in public.

Instead the sweat gathered under the boater before trickling down the back of her neck. From there it made its way between her shoulder blades in advance of travelling either side of her backbone only to disappear inside her corset. Gravity caused the perspiration to finally fall into the crevasse at the base of Maud's spine with the inevitable consequence.

The poor woman looked hot and distressed and her pace had slowed to next to nothing by the time she reached the gate of the Small Holding.

He was there with the gate open.

"Good God Missus, you look afire. Come, sit in the shade and I will fetch you a drink." he said as he stepped forward and took the bicycle from her. The man strode off up the slight incline towards the house. Without her bicycle Maud couldn't make her way home so she followed him.

He lent the bicycle in the shade against the wall of the house. Pointing at a bench and table that were sheltered from the sun, he said, "Sit you there missus."

Maud did as she was instructed, glad of the relief. She removed the pin from her Straw Boater and placed it on the table. Just the cooler air through her hair was so welcome.

He disappeared into the doorway and returned promptly with an earthenware jug and beaker. He poured some water.

"Sip it slowly at first, Missus, then pour as much as you like."

He left Maud alone for some time. Emerging with a small white enamel bowl, the man placed it on the table. It appeared to contain some herbs floating in a little water as well as a small square of flannelette.

"Thank you for the drink, the water is cool and sweet. Is it from your well?" Maud asked.

"From the spring," he answered, nodding towards the woodland that stretched up behind the house.

He took the fabric from the bowl and wrung most of the water from it. Handing it to Maud, he said, "Put it on the back of your neck."

Without any argument, Maud took the cloth and did as he said. Squeezing it against the naked skin between her hairline and the top of her shirt waist blouse. It felt so soothing. A few drops of the spring water embarked on the same pilgrimage that her perspiration had gone on earlier. This time she embraced its visit.

Slowly, Maud convinced herself that she wasn't about to expire.

For a long while he stood and she sat in a tense silence. She took the occasional sip of water. Suddenly, he lunged across in front of her and grasped the jug. Refilling the beaker he gestured that she should drink more. Maud couldn't help thinking that it was both coarse and chivalrous at the same time.

Eventually, she broke the silence, "My name is Mrs.................."

"I know who you are," he said.

"And you are?" Maud enquired.

"Venn," he replied curtly.

"Just Venn?"

"It is enough," he said.

"And your wife?"

"I have no use for a wife."

The tense silence returned until Maud went to pick up her hat.

"Wait!" he said, briefly touching lightly the back of her hand.

He dunked the flannelette square in the bowl. Wringing it out, he placed it gently inside the boater.

"That will help," he said.

She replaced the boater and struck the hatpin through it without regard for her own safety in the casual way that women do. She could feel the coolness descend through her hair.

Maud retrieved her bicycle and headed down the path towards the open gate. Venn followed. As she passed through, Maud turned and said, "Thank you for your compassion. I believe that you may have saved my life."

He said nothing.

She walked on up Linden Hill. Instead of stopping at the gate he walked just behind Maud.

She slipped one foot over the frame and was about to mount when she half turned and said, "Why did you say that before?"

"What?" he replied.

"You know. Why did you say 'Doesn't that saddle excite your cunny'. You asked me twice," Maud said, blushing a little.

He smiled a disarming smile and replied, "Because some women don't like to hear the word Cunt."

As she started to pedal away, Maud looked over her shoulder and said, "Well the answer is; It does sometimes!"

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I don't know if it is a Universal Truth but I have heard that women who have nearly everything in life often focus on the few things that they don't have. I must admit that I have been vulnerable to this myself at times.

As a forty-five year old independently minded woman, Maud thought that she should be able to vote. That said, if she did have the vote, she wouldn't know who she would vote for. She was sure that Augustine would be able to advise her if she ever did gain the franchise.

The other thing that her life lacked hadn't concerned her until he had asked her that question on Linden Hill. Now, it had become a grievance.

Maud would extol the injustice and the merits of Womens' Suffrage to anyone who cared to listen. The second burning issue she kept to herself.

.............................................

Maud could recall none of the information that Clara had imparted to her earlier as she made her way up Linden Hill.

Even before she had even reached the gate Venn held it open. Close up and face on his sheer physicality became obvious, before it had only been a half glimpsed impression. Without a word Maud passed through and approached the house. She put her bicycle against the wall, stepped through the door and made her way into the kitchen.

Venn wasn't far behind her.

When Maud reached the large kitchen table she turned and leaned against it. She pulled the hatpin from her hat and the hairpins from her hair. She placed her hat on the table and shook her dark brown locks free. In this way she indicated her unspoken consent for all that followed.

She had chosen to have the immovable object behind her to remove any option of backing away.

Venn crashed against Maud, wrapping her in his embrace. For the first time in her life she was kissed with passion. Deep and long passion.

He altered his grasp and repeated the kiss.

Venn turned Maud to face the table and pushed her forward. Reaching too far down, his hand made contact with one of her boots. He grasped the hem of her skirt and pulled up over her wide belt. Then he did the same to the petticoat. Maud's split drawers and silk stockings were revealed as well as the base of her corset.

"Hell's bells. Missus, no wonder you suffer in the heat," pronounced Venn.

He licked two of his fingers and found his way with them through the opening in her drawers.

"Nngh!" Maud expelled the air in her lungs as Venn thrust his fingers into her.

He paused to allow a few seconds for her to accept the incursion.

Then he pumped his fingers in and out.

Maud whimpered with each thrust.

She didn't know what she had expected but it hadn't been this. This was animal in nature but it felt good.

He withdrew his fingers. She felt her heart sink. Was that going to be it?

She heard his great brass buckle hit the floor. Her pulse quickened even more.

Something that wasn't his fingers sought her opening. She knew instinctively what it was. Warm and hard it went in to a depth where nothing had preceded it.

Through the linen of her drawers, Maud felt his thighs make contact with her buttocks as he fully entered her.

There was a pregnant pause long enough to allow her to wrap her moistness around him.

"Breath," he instructed.

She took three deep breaths. Just the slight motion of her chest made her hips move too. Tiny pleasures, but welcome.

"Please do it now," she said softly.

He did it.

Gripping her corset strings he pushed himself backwards until Maud feared he had changed his mind. Then the slow and gentle thrust forward.

"Nngh!" went Maud.

He was so hard and she was so glad.

"Nngh!" again as he thrust again.

And again.

His pace increased. Her pleasure increased.

"Nngh!" on every crash against her.

Maud tried not to give a thought of how things could have been for the last twenty years. She knew it could not be altered. Now was all that counted.

"Nngh!"

"Nngh!"

"Nngh!"

And then his rhythm changed. Became shorter.

It was his turn to cry out as he added his seed to her juices.

He retrieved his trouser and fastened the huge buckle.

Venn went outside.

When Maud emerged from the house, hair and hat in place, he was sitting in the shade smoking his pipe.

She hesitated for a minute. Maybe she expected some conversation. None came.

He stood and started to push her bicycle forward so that she could take it.

They walked towards the gate, the bicycle between them. She passed through and he closed the gate behind her.