Busy Body

by Molly Moore
Molly sitting on edge of bed in dark room with light from curtain showing round her naked form

“She’s grieving, poor dear” they all say to one another when I go into town.

They touch my arm and in an almost hushed tone ask me how I am doing. I reward them with soft gentle smiles and muttered replies that I am bearing up OK. Some of the really nosy ones even stop by the house now and then to ‘check on me’ and others are insistent that I should come round for tea. I always manage to put those ones off and gradually their determination to get involved in my life seems to be waning.

Time is a great healer after all, and soon I plan to be gone from here completely.

The money from the life insurance was way more than I anticipated and this house is too big for one. It was too big for three to be honest but when we moved here you still had dreams of us being a four or a five. In the end we only had April. Seems that nature decided one would be enough for us, or so you believed.

April was sad when you went and she checks on me regularly but she is mainly busy with her own life which is how it should be.

I didn’t put the house up for sale straight away. I didn’t want people to be suspicious about how quickly I seemed to be over your death so I have carried on here playing the sad widow waiting for the weeks to turn to months and then I can finally move on. There is so much space in this house and way too many memories that I am fed up of meeting around every corner and in every room. I can’t wait for a new space that is mine and to fill it with things that are not about us. The first thing I am going to do is get a new bed.

At first it was weird without you and no matter where in the bed I went to sleep I found myself waking on my side of the bed, leaving the rest of it empty as if you were still there. I have tried to reclaim it from your ghost but nothing seems to work. I bought myself the most beautiful glass dildo and have quite literally spent hours spread-eagled in our bed plunging it in and out of my body. The feeling of being penetrated by something was a shock at first but now my body welcomes the rigid phallus with increasing orgasmic delight.

But still I find myself sleeping on just one side of the bed although now I wake up to the glass dildo on the other side which is definitely preferable to your snoring presence.

I used to daydream about you being gone. It is silly really. I could have just divorced you but for some reason that seemed wrong and scary but you dying? That seemed like the easy way out somehow and I used to imagine my life without you and the freedom I would have. Not always mind you, I did definitely love you once but then time seemed to change us both and where I wanted to do more you wanted to do, well the same stuff over and over.

I did warn you though; time and again I told you that all those burgers and beers would be the death of you. You used to laugh at me and tell me that life without beer and burgers would be dull and that going a couple of year early would be worth it. I think both of us were shocked when it turned out to be way more than a few years. Well you looked pretty shocked when I found you on the kitchen floor that morning and I know I wasn’t expecting it.

But here we are, well here I am. A surprise widow at 45, you are a statistic of a high fat diet and too much booze at the age of 52 and I am doing a grand job of looking like I am sad about it all whilst watching porn and fucking myself stupid and dreaming off all the men I am going to let stick their throbbing hard cocks into me when I finally move away from this busy body little town.

“She’s grieving, poor dear” they all say to one another when I go into town.

Little do they know.


This story was inspired by the beautiful image of @ht_honey that was the prompt for this weeks Masturbation Monday. Click the badge below to see that image and all the other pieces that people wrote this week.

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Cara Thereon May 15, 2018 - 1:37 am

So I thought I commented on this earlier, but I really liked this story. I almost thought she killed him and couldn’t quite decide if I was happy or not that she hadn’t. I believe she’ll be very happy soon though and I find myself glad for her

Kayla Lords May 16, 2018 - 1:24 am

Like Cara, I thought, for a moment that she killed him, but not being sad about his death is more satisfying, somehow. It means I don’t have to wrestle with myself about rooting for a murderer, lol. I divorced mine (I couldn’t have waited him out) but I can certainly relate to doing all the things you’ve always wanted to do now that you’re free (pretty sure you can too). Good for her!


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