Margaret and George (**Names changed to protect the guilty!)

I did something last week that resulted in my wondering if in fact I might be sexually naïve (honestly!) but which on the plus side kept both my imagination and my index finger busy for couple of nights.







I was press ganged into going to see a local amateur musical evening, the sort of thing I would normally shy away from at all costs but I had no choice. Its structure was a series of scenes from a number ot of the well known musicals, and I have to say it was done far better than I had dared expect. But more than that, the choreographer had gone to town bringing out the raunchy elements of each piece in ways I would not have expected to see on the stage of a village hall. Prancing around the stage at different times were suspendered sirens in night club scenes,







Nancy from Oliver with her full breasts practically fighting to break free of her low cut top, and the girls dressed for a harem scene in ways that could only have been designed to send the men home with smiles on their faces and bulges in their trousers.

But the real shock was realising that one of the women up there, smouldering and strutting for our benefit, was a local farmer’s wife, someone I know only slightly and who I have only ever seen in old jumpers and muddy wellies as she works round the farm. Nothing wrong with her looks or her figure, but she is someone I have always considered to be rather dull, and now I was seeing her with entirely new eyes. A voice from an older woman sitting behind me summed it all up very nicely. ”Margaret’s certainly getting in touch with her inner slut!”

The mistake that we all make, me included, is that we forget that all the anonymous people we see in our day to day lives have a lot more to them than meets the eye, and that even the blandest looking female has an inner slut simply dying to bust free when given the opportunity. How many of these women own enviable collections of erotic lingerie that they dress up at appropriate times for the benefit of husbands or lovers,







and how many of them are experts in the art of seduction, artfully bringing their bedroom companions from simmer to boil with a flash of thigh or a lingering glance.








But it was a further remark from the same woman that really got my imagination in a spin. “George hasn’t seen this yet.” She said. “I wonder what he’s going to think!”

Exactly! What was George going to think, and what would happen between him and Margaret when they got home afterwards. Like me, would he be seeing her with new eyes and excited with the fresh erotic possibilities she had now offered him, suggesting an early night and following her sinuous body up the stairs to their waiting bedroom,







or would his reaction it be something else entirely? The whole village had seen his wife dressed and behaving like a slut , so how should he deal with it? Throw her across his knee the second their front door closed behind them,







or maybe take his time to remind her exactly why out of nowhere she was finding herself being given the naughty girl treatment?

“You’re behaving like a slut!” He might tell her with grim determination as she struggled and squealed over his knee, and she would be forced to agree, secretly wallowing in the realisation of what she had woken in him.




Would he force her to wait for her punishment, bent over and exposed and wondering how severely he would treat her, in this position looking far more like a slut than she had on the stage,








all the while knowing that George would be getting increasingly excited at each progressive stage, revelling in the sight of her bare bottom over his knee as she struggles there with her knickers half way down her smooth thighs.








Utilising that well known principal that all men love, “If you act like a slut, I’ll treat you like a slut” maybe he will insist on stripping her naked before taking her over his knee for lengthy and all too satisfying spanking.





But as I said near the beginning, clearly I know nothing about the mysterious Margaret and what turns her on. There’s obviously way more to her than I had ever guessed. Perhaps it would be her encouraging him to exercise some discipline, goading him with reminders of what inflammatory garments she has dressed up in and the effect she saw it was having on the men back stage.






And again, I have no idea about what goes on between them round the farm when no one is around. If she makes a mistake over the milking, can she routinely expect to find herself being exposed and spanked,





and if so, does she then demonstrate her ability to produce full cream whenever it is needed?





And what about their sex life otherwise? Does she wait for him in the hay loft, blatantly flashing her stocking tops at him to get him in the mood,






or maybe she wanders round yard in a see through nightie reminding him that she has far more to offer than just haymaking.







I don’t know and l never will know, but that’s no reason why I shouldn’t give the whole subject of Margaret and George some further thought in bed tonight!