Cecil's Games

Well readers what a week it's been.

Firstly, me old trouble with the waterworks came back, so I've had the plumber round. That was on Tuesday. No Thursday. No Wednesday. No EastEnders was on later that night cos I remember telling my Cecil about it. Eee I hate EastEnders I do, it's a misery fest and make no mistake. And that Dot Cotton, she wants putting out of her misery and I'd be the one to do it, I'd fight me way to the front of the queue. I'm quite experienced at doing that, what with pension day every week.

Also this week my Cecil has been intimate with me on more than one occasion. I'm not sure if you are at all aware of the sexual habits of Old Age Pensioners, but we've still got it. At least Cecil has, I just let him do what he wants and that keeps him happy, and it uses up the cold chip fat now that I'm a bit arid down there.
Yes, this week Cecil has been playing his sexual role play games, and I'm all for it, he sleeps during the day and I can get the steps bleached.

One of the games he plays is doctors and nurses. Well, doctors and patients really. He'll get me to be all distraught, with a little pillow under my apron, and I like doing that, seeing as I was in the background in that Upstairs Downstairs. Not the one on telly, the other one. Let me think, it wasnt called Upstairs Downstairs, cos that's the name of the proper one. It was one of these new fangled adult movies, filmed in the basement of that guesthouse in the main street. Y'know the one, it's got refugees in it now. Oh I remember it were called Up'hers Downstairs. This girl from the estate, I remember seeing her go to school when she was younger, she now makes adult entertainment. Apparently her speciality is Double Anal. Eeeee I had a lovely holiday in Dunblane years ago, but I wouldn't go back, not on account of what happened. I wouldn't feel safe.

So, Cecil is the doctor, and I go in all distraught. "Oooh doctor,..." I say, and by this time he's already erect. "I've been raped". Now this may be shocking to you the reader, but it's not. I then have to tell him all the details, and I do that by remembering the problem page that used to be in the Sunday Sport from years ago. And also from the time it happened to me. Although if you ask me, that problem page was more titillation than problems.

The doctor (it's really my Cecil) stands up and reveals he's not wearing anything under his white overcoat. He performs an 'abortion' and removes the pillow,and to be honest, by this time I'm on the froth, and that's saying something. I'm like one of them Cappucinos down below. Or a peppermint Mocha on account of the colour. You have to get your pleasure where you can at our age.