The Vicar's Wife

Ali was going to meet up with the Pact later that day ? so I left for work knowing that there would be a juicy story later that night. Little did I know just how juicy it would actually turn out. She had an extra-long workout and a long steam. After drying off and a pot of nice tea she made up some semen for her cock. Semen is actually a mixture of Greek yogurt, condensed milk and a little salt for tanginess. The girls swear it taste just like man cum. Ali got out her funnel and filled the balls to the brim ? she felt she was going to need it. After all she planned on fucking both of her best friends later that afternoon. She was going to do a little shopping first in the village and decided to wear her cock under a pair of jogging pants and my University sweatshirt. Her two friends Jess and Robin had custom made dildos made in London by an artist chap that Robin knows who works in plastic and rubber. He is gay and was more than happy to find models to make casts of their cocks. Jess and Ali?s were around 7 to 8 inches long and Robin being the Amazon that she is wanted a larger 9 to 10 inch monster. Jess and Ali?s are Caucasian in colouring and Robin?s is modelled in black colouring. I have seen them all and they are very lifelike with veining on the shafts and cock heads of varying shades of pink to purple. The balls that are attached are hollow and can be filled with their special semen mix. There is a hollow tube that runs from the balls to the piss hole in the cock head and with a little practice Ali can now make it cum heavily or just like a little precum by squeezing the balls. They have public hair and are attached to a pair of high waisted black latex big girl pants - as Ali calls them. There is a small loop in the crotch so that the semi ridged cock can be held down between the legs. This allows them to be worn in public without too much showing.

Ali grabbed her keys and was ready to drive down to the village when the doorbell rang. Damn she thought I don?t want any interruption now. She looked out the view hole in the front door and it was the Vicar's wife ? affectionately or sarcastically know as Mrs Marple. The Vicar?s wife in English county life is the doyen of everything volunteer and Marjorie was no exception. She ruled all the church ladies with an iron fist. Even the women like Ali who weren?t strictly church goers came up against her iron will through the Women?s Institute or the Adult Education Centre, of which she was chairwoman. Name a village occasion and she was there with her OBE pinned to her enormous chest. The woman had a forty inch chest with double or even triple D cup size. She was an even size from there to the ground with a set of ankles that would make any rugby player envious. Her face could stop a clock and she must have inherited her tweed twin set wardrobe from her grandmother. She had taken recently to walking with a cane in orthopaedic shoes and her thick pop socks. Staunchly conservative she was the model of virtue.

Ali opened the door for Marjorie who was delivering the monthly village magazine, which she was editor and main contributor and the parish office printed under her guidance of course.

?Hello Allison.?

?Oh - good morning Marjorie. Can I help you with anything?? What a question and as soon as she said it she regretted saying it.

?Since you ask dear ? could I have a glass of water and a short sit down, my feet are killing me. I?ve been to the top of the village delivering this month?s Village Voice.? She had a canvas bag on her shoulder filled with the magazines and it was clearly digging into her flesh. Ali stood aside to let her in and she turned to walk in the kitchen.

?I think I can do better than a glass of water ? how about a small Sherry or a nice pot of Fortnum?s Royal Blend.?

?How about both dear - I am bushed. This farmer?s market jute bag with these small straps are not meant to carry weight - my shoulders and neck are killing me.? Ali could see her discomfort as she let the bag fall to the floor.

?Well come in the living room and have a seat.? Marjorie waddled her way into the living room and Ali set about pouring a tall sherry and put the kettle on the boil. She went in the living room with the crystal sherry glass full to the brim. Marjorie had slipped off her shoes without so much as a by your leave. She had a habit of dominating any area she was in and anybody she was with. Ali sat on the couch.

?You poor dear ? Marjorie you do so much for the village.? Of course Ali was being sarcastic ? but she never realised. Marjorie took the sherry glass and downed it in one swallow. She began to rub her shoulders. Ali left the room to bring back the tea. ?You know Marjorie when John broke his back he suffered from terrible neck and shoulder pains. I took that course at the village hall in remedial massage and got pretty good.?

?Oh yes I remember ? the chap from the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in London taught the class. One of the Vicar?s colleagues. I organised the classes ? but sadly I couldn?t attend myself. Does John find it helpful??

?Oh yes ? after a long day lecturing on his feet at the University I can have him right as rain in a few minutes. Sit here on the foot stool and I give you a short rub ? it?ll do wonders I promise.? Marjorie got up from the chair and looked at the foot stool rather quizzically. It is five foot long and two foot wide and really a massage table in disguise. ?John made the foot stool at the furniture workshop at the vicarage. You know men they make things way too big.?

?I know dear the Vicar has that very same penchant.? While she moved over and sat on the stool Ali went and poured another tall sherry. She handed it to Marjorie.

?Oh ? I couldn?t dear not a second ? I?m not good at handling sherry.? Ali remembered her a few Christmases ago drunk as a sailor at the vicarage singing at the top of her voice.

?Oh come on Marge ? it?s just us and it will help your muscles relax. Make my job easier ? please.?

?Well ? just this last one.? Ali put the sherry decanter on the coffee table. And stood behind her and began rubbing her neck.

?Heavens you are tight Marge ? you poor dear.? Ali is actually a very talented masseuse and was soon digging her thumbs into the big woman?s neck and shoulders. Marjorie began to loosen up a little and relaxed her shoulders. She let out a small sigh.

?That does feel good Allison ? you certainly learned well.? Ali had brought some massage oil with her from the kitchen and had it in her jogging bottom pocket.

?I have some wonderful aromatherapy oil that would really help.?

?Please don?t go to any trouble dear.?

?No trouble at all I have it right here.? She showed Marjorie the beautiful body lotion bottle and let her smell the fresh jasmine scent.

?That does smell good ? I love jasmine.? Ali reached around the front of her neck and began to unbutton her blouse. ?What are you doing Alison??

?I don?t want to get the oil on your pretty blouse.?

?Oh ? I suppose not.? With that Ali unbutton a few buttons down on her blouse exposing her massive cleavage. She then pulled the blouse down on her upper arms. She was certainly a muscular woman with shoulders like a javelin thrower. Ali looked at the red skin under her bra straps.

?Marge your bra straps are digging into your shoulders ? no wonder you are in such discomfort. Curse of the full size bosom.?

?Yes ? yes dear ? you don?t know what a burden it is for a woman my size.? Ali put her fingers under the bra straps and began to move them over to her upper arms. ?Is that necessary??

?I don?t want to spoil your lovely bra.? In fact Marjorie was wearing an industrial size bra from M