I was married off to the town's mayor when I was twenty-three. My well to do parents thought it was a good idea; who, for them, so they could climb the social ladder, or me? Peter was a decent person but he was nineteen years older and we were living on different planets. At first, it was quite exciting attending all the different civic functions and meeting only ever so nice people all hoping to find favour with my husband.   

After two years of marriage, Peter's only real interest was his duties as mayor and the local golf course. As for me, well, I had a rather nice collection of vibrating little friends which I kept very well hidden. I was now twenty-five, childless and unloved you could say. 

Yes, I had opportunities with several suitable gentlemen but I never strayed even once I must admit though, that it very nearly did happen. Sometimes late at night, I could hear my husband clearly wanking. What was wrong with my opening? I began to have concerns, what was Peter fantasising about?

There was a problem with my bedroom door the hinges needed to be oiled because it was squeaking rather a lot. The oil can, along with several other things, was in the garage. The single light bulb in the ceiling had clearly blown but I knew where the oil can was.  As I reached up to the top shelf I noticed something for the very first time, there were tiny shafts of bright sunshine coming through holes in the garage door. This was very strange and needed to be investigated.                                                                                     

I was at first rather bemused because someone, probably the previous owners had drilled multiple holes in the old wooden door. What was the purpose? Curiosity had got the better of me and l took a little peep through one of the holes.  Imagine my surprise when I caught sight of my friend and neighbour in her front garden doing some weeding. But there was something much better than that, as she bent over I could clearly see her skimpy little pink knickers. Something deep inside of me had come to the surface and I rather liked the feeling.   

I quickly realised that behind the safety of the locked garage door I could do whatever I wanted safe in the knowledge that no one could see me but I could see them. The opportunities for me to behave like a dirty little whore were almost endless. The postman, who always arrived about the same time would be my first victim. He was a nice young man of maybe twenty and he looked as pure as the driven snow.  Yes, my first experience was about to happen and my nipples were as stiff as could be, just thinking about it.     

That evening was the mayor's annual dinner and dance. Everyone who was anyone would be there and yes, I would be the adoring, loving wife always at my husband's side. After two years of such suffocating occasions, I almost felt like screaming.

I played out my role but I was never really accepted as being the same as they all were. Dinner was just fine as always, then, of course, there was the dancing. Very traditional, I might add and so so boring. I needed something to help me through the evening and it came to me in a very simple way  I was sitting on the toilet pissing out the fine cognac with my silk knickers around my ankles when a very naughty thought came to mind. Would I leave my knickers off? 

I was in big demand as a dance partner by just about all the well-to-do gentlemen. This was hardly surprising. I was young, pretty and I dare say, desirable?  I have to be honest and say that being knickerless made me feel rather good and for the first time at a function, I did not mind being discreetly groped by much older men.

In fact, I quite enjoyed it, knowing that once back home my little vibrating friends would be waiting for me. What would His Worship the Mayor have thought had he known just what a bad girl his wife really was?