Mary doesn't know what she'd do without her film club friends.
They're basically the only people she knows here in the middle of nowhere, where she moved with her cheating asshole of a husband six months before he left her for his bimbo mistress. Some weeks they're the only reason she leaves the house, given that she works from home and gets her groceries delivered.
They meet once a week, rotating between a few houses, to watch whatever movie they voted on the last week. And she's not into a lot of the movies--they're mostly weird art house flicks about Being An Artiste--but it's just nice to put on a sundress, slip a vibrator in her panties, and head over to whatever house it's being hosted at this week.
It's not her vibrator, obviously--whoever is hosting for the week holds the remote. It's just a nice little gift she can give them for letting her join their club.
She's gotten pretty good at staying quiet during the films--who knew masturbating while her husband was asleep because he never managed to get her off would pay off--but sometimes they need to give her something to suck on so her moans don't interrupt the movie. Nobody seems to mind too much, though, even if she always apologizes for being so disruptive.
She always sits on a towel, but if she makes too much of a mess they all tease her about it, rubbing their fingers between her legs and smearing her arousal all over her tits and her lips and sometimes even into her mouth so she can taste what a mess she's made. It's all in good fun, though.
It's just the sort of thing friends do.
