English Pub Landlady Ep. 16

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 knew 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 jingle 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 nice 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 nice 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."

"That was my last time. I guess that transferring to this village, lovely as it is, hasn't increased the chances of that happening again."

I questioned her, "Supposing that I can help you. Is it your husband that you want to have sex with or just anybody?"

Faith replied, "At this stage, anyone."

"Normally, a Vicar's wife can't afford to be involved in casual sex but I understand that 'normally' doesn't apply here abouts," she went on.

"Fair enough. I am not promising anything but I'll give it some serious thought," I said.

"Just two questions. Can the Vicar know about this? If he did know, would he mind?"

"I don't think he would care either way. In fact I might like it if he did. I don't think I'm a bad looking woman and it may make him realise what he's passing up," she added.

"Now purely out of academic interest what is the other problem?" I asked.

"Well, as you know hardly any bastard attends the church services in this village. One of the reasons we were sent here was to try to change that. It's a long shot but I thought a woman of your talents may have some ideas," she said.

I laughed and not not just because of her language.

"Oh, I thought that you wanted me to do something easy like the water into wine thing," I smiled.

"I'm not saying yes; but I'm not saying that it can't be done," I concluded.

-

The next day Rita had done as much cleaning as she felt like and was sitting in my kitchen drinking my tea and eating my digestive biscuits.

When I walked in, I said, "Penny for your thoughts."

"Oh," she said, " I was just feeling sorry for young Jem."

"He looks so sad wandering about with his sad face and his hard on."

"I know," I said.

Rita said, "Yesterday, I saw him walking up the lane. I just had to let him take his frustrations out on my fanny. I bent over the stile while he gave me a good seeing to. Mind you, all of the people on the Dorchester bus looked surprised as they went by."

"Still it was the charitable thing to do and I told him not to tell his mum."

-

That evening I overheard one of those stupid conversations in the bar. They were discussing the new Vicar's wife. The general consensus was that she was probably frigid. Every one of the silly old gits had a theory about what the cause was and what the best cure was.

Old Tom thought that the reason was that he'd never shagged her.

Everybody agreed that the only cure was a bloody good banging. Even Ted was in agreement.

Men do tend to simplify everything.

-

"Thank you very much for landing me with Faith's problems," I said to Helen somewhat sarcastically.

"It shouldn't be too difficult. Just strap her to the Hoss and get Dorchester Rugby Football Club to lend you the 1st XV," she replied.

It's not just men who simplify things. Helen is still a bit miffed because her sixtieth birthday came and went while the whole world was locked down. She had her heart set on me devising a scenario where she was strapped to the Hoss and debauched. It just didn't happen.

"I know that's high on your wish list but her issues are slightly more complex," I laughed.

"Have you heard from Imogen lately?" Helen asked, changing the subject.

"Not really, I know that she and Geoffrey were awarded a grant for some sort of research project. I really must 'phone her soon," I replied.

-

You know that local artist, Jane? Well, she volunteered to do a painting of the ******** Inn for me. She told me that lately her work was 'really off the wall' but that when she was at Art College she was quite good at architectural portraits.

I was intrigued to see how it was progressing as Jane had suggested it was near completion.

As I approached the studio, I could hear the distinctive strains of Argentinian music. The door was wide open so I just walked in. Jane and Claud were attempting to dance the Tango. Each time they got the steps wrong they laughed hysterically.

When Claude saw me in the doorway she said, "Thank goodness you're here. This Sugar Thumb Fairy has two left feet. Can you Tango?"

"Well, I did learn a bit at Convent School but that was years ago," I replied.

Claude laughed out loud, "It's like riding a Dyke, once to master it you never forget how. Come and show Jane."

"OK, but keep it basic," I agreed.

Claud wasn't bad and I remembered how to do it reasonably well. The music was quite intoxicating and we were soon adding little flourishes. It always amazes me how a woman's nipple knows when another woman's nipple is close to it, even when it's accidental. I'm sure that Claud was doing it intentionally but it still felt OK.

Eventually, we collapsed onto a sofa. "What brought that on?" I asked.

"Jane found a bottle of Gancia Americano Aperitivo in the cupboard. Some arty friends brought it back from Argentina for us a few years ago. We've been giving it a try. One thing led to another." said Claud.

"Do you want some?"

"Why not. We don't get a lot of call for it in the pub so it would be nice to try some," I replied.

"That's the spirit," said Jane, pouring me a teacup full.

I asked Jane how the painting was going.

"It should have been finished today but we've been fucking about. That's not strictly true. It would have been finished yesterday if it hadn't been for Jem," Jane added.

"Jem?" I said.

Claud explained, "Yes, he was in here yesterday. It turns out that he has an interest in pottery and painting. Who would have thought it?"

"He was asking about clay and the way it was fired. He also wanted to talk about different styles of painting."

"We had both heard about his break up with Stacey so we ignored the statuette he was carrying in his shorts," Claud went on.

"Anyway, I showed him how I throw a pot and then I took it out to the kiln. I wanted to give my hands a good wash so I left Jane to tell him about oil painting."

"By the time I got back, this floozy had her dungarees off and had her legs in the air on this sofa. Jem was riding the shameless slut."

"I felt sorry for him," laughed Jane.

Claud went on, "To give the boy his due, he has some staying power. When he rolled off, I could see a creamy mess slowly running from Jane's twat."

"I just couldn't resist. I had to lick her out. I know, but it's a weakness of mine. I did try it direct from a penis once but it's not the same. I got on my hands and knees and had my tongue in her."

"I felt Jem unbuttoning my dungarees. I thought 'Oh no, I don't want a man fucking me' then remembered that men have that limitation thing. I just let him get on with it. He slipped his hand down under me and straight on to my clit. He frigged me while I licked Jane. I think that both of us came at about the same time."

"It's not my usual thing but I quite enjoyed it."

"To stop ourselves from feeling guilty we agreed that it was really charity work," concluded Jane.

I told them that I wasn't in any hurry for the painting.

-

It was mid-day on Sunday. I was looking from my bedroom window towards the church. It was quite pleasing to see the doors flung open as the Vicar emerged. He was shaking hands with the people as they left the church. There must have been a dozen or so.

-

Trev was the first one in the bar. He'd had a busy day at work and had a thirst on.

We chatted as I pulled his pint. Inevitably, the subject got round to Jem.

"Seen much of him since the break up?", I said.

"Well at first he stayed clear of Jules. I think that seeing her only made things worse. But last week he came in to visit us," said Trev.

"Things were OK at first, then Jules noticed the lump in his trousers and felt sorry for him."

"She tells him to let her have a look at it. When he dropped his boxers, she starts sucking his knob. She hasn't done nothing like that for years. She can't get mine in. He ends up giving her a bloody good seeing to."

I asked him, "How did you feel about that?"

"It was great. I enjoyed the show."

"The real bonus came afterwards. Normally, I has to work a load of lube into Jules using at least two different size dildoes before I can fuck her."

"After twenty minutes of Jem working up her, Jules was ready for me."

"She came like a bitch on heat. Jules wants us to use Jem all the time from now on."

"Jules says it's sort of a charity thing but I knows she's just a dirty girl really. I loves it," said Trev.

"I always tells Jem that he's a dildo, now he is one," laughed Trev.

I don't know, young people today just don't have any morals.

-

Next Sunday the church congregation had increased to about twenty. Mostly men but some couples.

-

I went to see Glenda at Henchard's Farm, I had a favour to ask of her.

"You OK," I asked.

"Yes but I've been a bit worried about Jem," she answered.

"You and most of the women in the village," I said.

"He's been moping around here looking terrible. To make it worse he has that stiffy in his pants all the time."

"I asked Craig what we could do about it. He said it was obvious. I still had my reservations about that."

"There had to be a compromise where I wouldn't feel guilty. I had an idea that I talked over with Craig. He was all for it."

"The next day I got Craig to help choose an outfit for me. He went for a short flared skirt and low cut blouse, stockings and high-heels."

"I went over to Jem's place on the pretext of cleaning up. I went around dusting and tidying. Jem was sitting watching a porn film. I bent over a table and stayed there for a long time pretending to dust. I made sure that Jem had a good view of my slit."

"It took a little time but he eventually got the idea. He slipped into me and rumped me hard. He kept it going for a really long time. I hadn't intended to cum but I couldn't stop myself. I didn't know if should feel like a proud Mother or a whore"

"When he pulled out I said 'Oh Jem. You are a naughty boy. You really shouldn't do that to your Mum'. He apologised and I went home," said Glenda.

"Now I go over there and do the same thing every other day. I feel better knowing that at least he's getting some sex. I look at it as charity work."

She asked me what the favour was. I explained that as all the girls were feeling charitable I wanted them to be an extra bit generous. I had spoken to the others and they were in agreement.

-

Next Sunday the church congregation was even bigger. Fairly evenly mixed between men and women.

-

The pub was nearly full. Geoffrey was really enjoying himself behind the bar. It was just like old times.

Over the past few weeks I had dropped a lot of heavy hints that the Saturday lock-ins may be resuming soon. I made it very clear that it depended on the church attendance increasing. It was a charity thing.

The regulars were all there. Ted and old Tom were sitting in the corner. Ted had brought the last round. They both sat there with empty glasses. Either Ted would buy the next round or I would send two pints over.

I gave in and did the charitable thing.

Brian and Craig were talking farming. Harry and Gerald were talking golf. There were a few other groups of blokes. Mostly, they were talking bollocks.

When I went upstairs Faith was getting dressed. She was shaking slightly.

"Cold?" I said.

"No, fucking excited. Sorry," she replied.

I had a long chat with her earlier about the way things were likely to go. To say that she was enthusiastic would be an understatement.

"You only have to do what you want to. I can step in when you think you've been fucked enough," I told her.

We would be the only two women there tonight. Rita, Glenda, Imogen and Helen had charitably agreed to leave Faith to it.

Helen had also lectured the W.I. ladies about the need to be charitable to the new vicar and his wife by attending Sunday service.

Dressed in Imogen's tart uniform, you may remember the short kilt, sheer vest with large armholes, black nylons and stilettos, Faith made her way into the bar and started collecting glasses.

I had suggested that the Vicar's wife may be involved in the first lock-in but none of the perverts quite expected this.

She normally wore knee length dresses and low-heeled shoes. Seeing Faith dressed like a prostitute was like something from their wildest dreams.