Reverend Henry is tempted by sin; or perhaps something else?
By cocteleo. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, 2010
It is the Regency era, in England. King George the 3rd is mentally ill and has lost the American colonies through his unstable rule. Prince George the 4th became the kingdom’s regent and restored calm and elevated culture, society, and piety. The social classes are clearly defined, but everyone lives in fear of descending to a lower class through poverty or lesser associations.
The Belle of Glenwood
Mr. Henry Carter, curate of the Anglican parish of Glenwood, was having a hard time adjusting to his new role. He had recently obtained his position several months ago, working under the rector, a stout man in his 50s, Mr. Niles Brewer.
Henry, being a very devout young person of age 24, was shocked when he had arrived in Glenwood and become aware of the indolent practice of Mr. Brewer. The rector did perhaps two hours of work every week, sending Henry to do the rest as he relaxed in his study with a novel and a plate of cookies.
It had been a stroke of luck, or so he had thought, when Henry had been offered the curacy at Glenwood. It was a prosperous parish, and his living now exceeded that of many of his friends at university. But the indifferent way in which Mr. Brewer conducted church business was, well, unholy! To counteract his employer's laziness, Henry threw himself into the community, working feverishly on sermons in between attending to all of the baptisms, marriages, and funerals, as well as visiting the poor.
Mr. Brewer just laughed. "Don't work too hard, my boy!" he would say in his jovial, booming voice. "The church will get along fine with just a Sunday sermon and a sacrament here and there. No need to go to all of that trouble."
His careless words just seemed to make the fervor in Henry grow even brighter. He had visions of glory in which the people of Glenwood would hail him as a stalwart leader of the community, when they would sit in rapturous silence and drink in his inspiring words from the pulpit every Sunday.
This afternoon, he walked along the village street, completely unaware of the attention his tall, broad-shouldered figure, clad all in black, generated among the women of Glenwood. Any eligible young man newly arrived to the neighborhood was a welcome sight; for him to be handsome, with a thick thatch of black hair and serious gray eyes, was an exciting bonus. Henry, his head full of romantic notions of the clergy, hardly noticed the teasing looks directed his way. He had sometimes thought the young ladies of the parish were a little more than attentive, but his brain was too much in an abstract fog to notice, which of course added to his mysterious appeal.
He was on his way to the house of Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain, wealthy landowners with three young daughters. The oldest, Belinda, had just turned 18 and had come out the season before. She was generally recognized to be the belle of Glenwood, with beautiful, curling blonde hair and the face of an angel with wide, blue eyes. Her body had ripened becomingly into lush curves that stirred the fantasies of all the young men in the village. All the young men except for Henry, of course.
Henry arrived at the door and the unsmiling butler led him to Mr. Chamberlain's study. The older gentleman was of the round, red-faced variety and he waved Henry in. "Come in, come in, Mr. Carter. I must say, I'm very glad to see you." He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his sweaty brow.
"How may I be of service, Mr. Chamberlain? Your message sounded most urgent." Henry sat down across the desk.
"Well, well," Mr. Chamberlain coughed. He seemed to be having trouble with his words. Henry waited patiently. "You see, Mr. Carter, the trouble is with Belinda."
"Belinda?" Henry searched his memory. "Your eldest daughter, you mean?"
"Yes, her." For a few seconds, Mr. Chamberlain's face grew so red that Henry was alarmed. Should the old gentleman have sent for a doctor instead of a clergyman? But Mr. Chamberlain shook himself and started again.
"It has come to our attention-- That is, the missus and I have discovered-- Well, Belinda has been acting very strangely of late. Yesterday, the housekeeper found her--ahem--exhibiting herself to the gardener in the greenhouse. This was, unfortunately, not the first time." Mr. Chamberlain pulled at his collar and Henry cleared his throat, feeling suddenly discomfited as well. The small study seemed to grow close and hot.
"She has been giving us trouble for some time now. We have caught her with the butcher's boy in the shed. And there was that time our friend Mr. Allenby came to stay... He was absolutely shocked at her behavior. Shocked to his toes!" He harrumphed and opened a drawer in his desk, bringing out a long, thick object. Henry stared as Mr. Chamberlain dropped it on the desk with a loud, wooden thud. "And Mrs. Chamberlain found this in her bedchamber the other day."
Henry leaned forward to inspect it more closely. It was carved in the shape of a phallus. A rather large phallus, from Henry's experience in all of his years of boarding school and university.
"Who knows where she got this!" Mr. Chamberlain said in an explosive grunt. "She won't tell us, and we are at our wits' end. As you know, Mr. Carter, a young lady's reputation is all she has, and my wife and I are worried that Belinda's marriage prospects, not to mention those of her younger sisters, will be utterly ruined if word gets out of her wanton behavior."
Henry gazed at his host in utter bewilderment. "But sir, why am I here? What do you expect me to do?"
"How the hell should I know?" Mr. Chamberlain was gruff in his own ignorance of how to handle his lusty daughter. "You're the clergyman. Talk to her and fix this!"
He stood up and rang the bell and as Henry sputtered in his seat, the door opened and in walked Belinda.
For once, Henry did not have his head in the clouds, thinking of his next sermon. It was the first time he had really seen the girl without blindly passing his gaze over her, and the blonde's beauty stunned him into a brief stupor. Before he knew it, Mr. Chamberlain had slammed the door behind him, leaving them alone in the study, which all of a sudden felt suffocatingly small.
Belinda, for her part, took Henry in with a long glance. His strong jaw was taut and his gray eyes stormy. She curtsied and walked forward. He hastily jumped to his feet and bowed.
"Miss Belinda!" he said, in a slightly strangled voice.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Carter," she responded, her honeyed voice raising the little hairs on the back of his neck.
Ever since he had gotten over his awkward teen years, Henry had devoted himself wholesale to his studies. He had even thought of taking a vow of celibacy, not wanting the sins of the flesh to distract him from his dream of becoming an archdeacon. Thus, it had been a long time since he had felt any stirring in his nether regions, and his cheeks took on a hot flush when he realized his cock was coming to life at the sight of Belinda's ripe body, clad in a simple navy dress.
He abruptly sat down again to hide his uncomfortable state and attempted to take control of the situation. The young girl was standing before him now, the large desk behind her. The light from the windows beyond created a nimbus around her figure and Henry swallowed hard at the irony of this angelic-looking creature hiding such sinful desires.
"Miss Belinda," he began, "Your father has charged me with the task of curing you of your unnatural proclivities."
Belinda merely continued looking at him, with a serene smile on her lovely countenance. She leaned back against the desk, her hands resting on its surface. The position seemed to push her ample bosom up higher, already straining at the tight confines of her bodice.
"I-I command you to stop this behavior at once. God does not look kindly on those who indulge in the seven deadly sins, and as you know, lust is one of the" Henry trailed off, suddenly realizing two things. One, that in his rush to exit, Mr. Chamberlain had left the wooden phallus out on his desk, and two, Belinda's slender fingers were now caressing it.
He started when Belinda said, "Continue, Mr. Carter. You were saying something about lust?"
Henry dragged his eyes from where Belinda's delicate, white hand was stroking that unholy instrument. Her face looked as angelic as ever.
"Ahem, yes. As I was saying, God will punish those who give in to their base desires. You are a good girl, Miss Belinda," Henry said, although with a swelling of doubt in his heart. "Don't you want to reach the gates of Heaven?"
"Oh but Mr. Carter," she said. "I have discovered a Heaven here on our Earthly plane. It is the most blessed feeling, and I feel sure God would not disapprove."
Henry's face grew red at her implication and he stammered again. "Tha; that is for me to say, Miss Belinda. And I say again, that God will punish you with the fires of hell for your sinful actions."
Belinda did not seem to be affected by his threats. Instead, she ran a hand over the enticing swell of her breasts down over her skirts before she cupped her sex between her thighs, her white skin in contrast to the dark blue of her dress.
"But sir," she purred wickedly. "I have such an ache, just here. How shall I fill this ache in a way that God will approve?" She brought the large, wooden phallus down and thrust it where her hand had been, the fabric of her dress and underthings bunching with it.
Henry was open-mouthed now, his brow sheened with sweat. He tugged at his collar and cleared his throat, but seemed to have nothing more to say at the moment.
"I feel so empty all the time," Belinda pouted as she continued to thrust the instrument between her outspread thighs. With her other hand, she massaged her right breast, tweaking her nipple, which Henry could see straining through the fabric. "I need to be filled so bad!"
She pulled her generous neckline down, exposing one perfect, creamy breast, tipped with a rosy pink bud.
"Miss Belinda!" Henry made to stand, but all of a sudden, Belinda slid up onto the desk and pushed her stockinged foot down, right onto the large bulge in his black breeches. Henry gripped the arms of the chair as he groaned at the feel of her small foot on his clothed cock. She must have taken her shoes off while she stood there tempting him; he glanced down to see her slippers in a haphazard heap on the rug.
"Why, Mr. Carter!" Belinda's voice became husky and even more alluring. "What's this? Are you also filled with an ache? An ache that only a Heavenly act can relieve?" She ran her toes over his huge bulge and hummed appreciatively. "I can tell you've been gifted by God with an instrument of large size. Is it as big as this?"
She brought the phallus up to her mouth now and stuck out her little pink tongue to give it a long lick.
Henry whimpered in his chair, his cock an unyielding rod of iron. The sight of Belinda's rosebud mouth engaging in such an obscene act was inflaming him with the Devil's own power. "No, no," he said when Belinda began lifting her skirts. She propped her other foot up on the desk beside her, the nimble limb long and white, encased in a cream-colored stocking up to her knee. As she uncovered her sex, Henry was horrified to see that she was entirely bare.
"Oh, yes!" said Belinda, still pressing her dainty foot against his rock-hard crotch. She ran her fingers through her downy curls, glistening with moisture. "Umm," she said as she rubbed the apex of her cunny, "This is where it aches the most. And when I touch it, I feel as if God himself has touched me."
She circled her clit in hungry movements, moaning around the wooden phallus in her mouth. "Mr. Carter, it feels so good!"
"It's the Devil, Miss Belinda!" Henry choked out. Belinda's little toes squeezed his cock and his eyes rolled back in his head as she gave a small, delighted laugh.
"I don't think so, Mr. Carter. It must be a higher power of good at work, not evil." She spread her cunny lips open and Henry groaned at the sight of her pulsing slit, dripping with her juices. "And when I do this, it feels as if the Heavens have opened."
Belinda brought the wooden instrument, now shining wetly with the efforts of her tongue, to her cunny's opening and began to work it inside with short thrusts, all the time letting out the most delicious and lascivious cries of pleasure. "Oh yes, Mr. Carter!" she said when it was hilted several inches in her tight cunny. She held it in while she frigged her clit with her other hand. "Umm, I love it so much!"
She began to slide the phallus in and out of her sopping cunt and it made lewd, wet noises every time she thrust it home again. "Oh fuck!" she cried out, her hands a blur between her thighs.
Henry thought he might faint. The exquisite pressure of her foot on his cock, along with the mouth-watering smell that was coming from Belinda's soaked cunny, was making him light-headed. He tried to grasp at the Lord's Prayer with his dazed mind. It had never before failed to center and strengthen his devout conviction, but it certainly failed him now. All he could see and hear was Belinda, her luscious, enticing body making him want things he shouldn't.
"Oh, I'm going to come, Mr. Carter!" she cried out now, pounding her cunny with the phallus. Every time she said his name, Henry's cock jumped and seemed to grow even harder. He squirmed in the chair, his eyes glued to the sight of Belinda's violent release.
"Yes!" she hissed as she shuddered in obvious bliss, her hips writhing on the desk. She slapped at her cunny, each strike making a filthy, wet sound amid her nasty moans. On the final slap, she slid the phallus out and her cunny gushed with a flood of juices all over the carpet as she moaned, long and loud.
The sight sent Henry overboard and he groaned in ecstatic release as his cock pulsed, staining his breeches with a dark patch of moisture. His hands held onto the arms of the chair with a white-knuckled grip as he came, the pleasure so overwhelming that he did not notice a smirking Belinda slide to her knees between his legs.
"Ahh!" he yelped when he felt her hands on his sensitive member, fishing him out of his breeches. He looked down just in time to see Belinda open that pink, rosebud mouth and engulf his softening cock, glistening with his seed.
"Oh my Lord!" he cried out, his hands automatically coming to her head to push her away, but for some reason, his fingers tightened around her golden curls instead. When he felt her small hand fondle his balls and his cock harden once more in her hot, velvet mouth, he whimpered.
"Umm, Mr. Carter, delicious!" Belinda said, popping off his stiff shaft with a long suck. "You're so big! You're bigger than any other man I've seen!" Henry had indeed been blessed by God in that department. Belinda's hand looked tiny, barely encasing his thick girth, and it was longer even than her wooden phallus. She had a greedy look in her eyes as she stroked and licked up and down his engorged length.
"I can't wait until you fuck me with this huge cock, Mr. Carter!" she said, twisting her hands around him as she took him again into the moist cavern of her mouth.
His head lolling on the back of the chair, blinding pleasure running through him, Henry could only moan weakly, "No, no, the Devil's work."
"Nonsense!" Belinda said in her low, soothing voice, all the while continuing her depraved movements with her hands and lips. "You know as well as I do that once a man and woman are married, the joining of two bodies is celebrated."
She leaned forward and took one of his balls in her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue until he gave a loud groan. "If we're married, Henry, then we can do this every day with God's blessing. In fact, I think God would allow it even if we were engaged!"
Henry vaguely registered the fact that she had just used his Christian name. His thoughts were in a whirl of wanton destruction. He could not focus as she tortured him with her unholy touch. But when that touch suddenly left him, he groaned in disappointment.
He lifted his head and saw that Belinda was lying on her back on the carpet now, her skirts rucked up to her waist and her legs wide open to expose her swollen, pink cunny. Her beautiful tits were both out now, squeezed together between her arms. She was rubbing herself again with two hands, lewdly spreading her juices all over her puffy lower lips.
"Don't you want to fuck me, Henry? Don't you want to stick your huge, hard cock inside me?" She spread herself open and he salivated at the sight of that enticing, dark hole.
"Umm, Henry, I want to be your wife," Belinda continued as she slipped her fingers all around her wet core. "You could fuck me every night, every day, every hour if we were married! Don't you want that, Henry?" Her voice was honeyed seduction and Henry dropped to his knees in front of her, his enormous cock straining out in front of him, drawn to the indecent sight of Belinda's fingers pushing into her cunny.
She brought them up to her mouth and licked them and Henry moaned at the sight, his cock now pressed against her entrance, slick and silky.
"Say you'll marry me, Henry. Say it!" Belinda drew her tongue over her bottom lip, her bright blue eyes mesmerizing him. She brought her fingers to her perky nipples and pinched them, letting out a grunt as her hips shifted against him.
"Yes, yes!" Henry whispered, and then crammed his monster cock into her tight, pulsing heat.
"Fuck! Yes!" Belinda cried, her body straining to accommodate his huge size. "Oh my God, you're so big!" She wiggled and squirmed as he relentlessly drove into her, gaining another inch with every thrust until he was pounding his entire length into her as she moaned in satisfaction and gripped his ass hard, urging him on.
Henry's hands were braced on each side of Belinda's head, and he stared down at her, watching as pleasure washed over her features. He had never seen anything so beautiful as she, with her clear, azure gaze fixed on him in an expression of love and devotion.
He looked down to see his cock pummeling her tight cunt, her opening stretched around him, and her creamy breasts bouncing with every thrust. Groaning at the sight, his hips began to move faster as the pleasure built and built inside of him.
"You feel so good, Henry," Belinda said and he lifted his head to meet her gaze again. Her eyelids had lowered and a flush had stolen over her porcelain complexion. "Keep going, harder, harder! Fuck, Henry, I'm going to come again! I'm going to come all over your cock!"
And as Henry felt her channel grip his member over and over in its velvet grasp as Belinda shook and moaned beneath him, he closed his eyes and commended his soul to the Lord.
His balls tightened and after hammering his huge member into that spasming cunny several more times, his cock burst in an eruption of cum. His sticky seed shot into Belinda's sucking womb with force, pumping with orgasmic pulses. "Oh my fucking God!" he cried out, shuddering as the intense pleasure overwhelmed him, flowing out of his shaft in waves of bliss. He ground his pelvis into her for a long minute before collapsing on top of her, panting heavily his mind in a daze. As Belinda ran her hands up and down his back, she let out a laugh, low and triumphant.
Fifteen minutes later, Henry was standing next to Belinda in front of her parents in the sitting room. He was stammering out an explanation of their sudden engagement as she held his hand. She wore an extremely satisfied smile on her beautiful face. Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain were, of course, flummoxed by this recent news, but they were not unpleased. It was a relief to finally get their troublesome daughter off their hands, after all.
As for Belinda, it would be some time before she confessed to her husband, late one night while she rode his cock, that she had planned to snare him from the start. "An angel came to me in a dream," she explained, pulling a moan out of Henry, writhing beneath her, as she leaned back and squeezed his balls in her hand. "And the angel told me what a big cock you had!"
Fiona’s Curiosity
Fiona, middle daughter of the Chamberlain family, was having a hard time sleeping. In fact, for the past year, ever since her older sister Belinda had married Henry Carter, the local curate, she had been having trouble sleeping.
The crux of the problem was that Mr. Brewer was still the rector of Glenwood, and thus occupied the rectory with his wife and family. Henry had been renting rooms in the village, but after the wedding, he had taken up residence at the Chamberlains' very large manor house, sharing quarters with his new wife in the east wing.
Unfortunately, Fiona also slept in the east wing. Her bedchamber was right next to that of the young couple, and the walls were lamentably thin.
Tonight, she lay atop her covers, overheated from the summer warmth and, as always, from what she heard from the other side of the wall, where the head of her bed was located.
"Oh yes, Henry, give me that big, hard cock!"
"You like it when I stuff your tight, little cunny full, don't you, Belinda?"
"Umm, I love it! You fuck me so good, Henry!"
As she began to feel dampness between her thighs, Fiona wondered briefly if things had been getting worse lately. When Henry had first come to Glenwood, he had been a very distracted young man. Although there was no denying his good looks, his head was always up in the clouds except when he was in the pulpit. Then, he would preach with a burning fervor in his eyes that made the good people of Glenwood rather nervous. It was just all too puritanical and, well, American.
When the engagement between Belinda, the eldest daughter, and Henry had been announced, the whole Chamberlain family had been rather shocked. Fiona had even ventured to ask Belinda if she was sure that the serious, overly devout Henry was really the husband she wanted.
Belinda had only smiled mysteriously and assured her that Henry had hidden assets that were very appealing. She had told Fiona not to worry and that she knew what she was doing.
And as the months wore on after her sister Belinda’s marriage, Fiona became all too aware of what her brother-in-law’s hidden assets were. Every night through the walls, she heard Belinda constantly praise Henry's enormous cock, how well he filled her up, how much she loved fucking him.
Henry seemed to relax with time as well. The holy glow in his eyes had dissipated and although he was still conscientious in his duties, he did not excessively obsess over the sins of Glenwood's villagers, much to their relief. It was a lot easier to bear the long Sunday sermons without feeling like eternal damnation was only a slight misstep away. And along with this relaxed attitude, Henry had also developed just as filthy a mouth as Belinda's.
Fiona finally climbed out of bed. Her light blonde hair ran down her back in a silvery cascade in the moonlight. Because of the warm summer air, she decided to forego wrapping a dressing robe over her thin gown. She had a very slim figure in contrast to Belinda's busty curves. The only traits the Chamberlain daughters shared in common were blonde hair and blue eyes; their figures were very different. Fiona was tall and straight, with long limbs and an erect posture. Jane, the youngest, was the shortest, with a full, rounded figure. Fiona often thought Belinda was the luckiest of them all, to have the well-endowed, ripe body of a Greek statue. All three, however, were acknowledged beauties in the village and surrounding area.
Silently, Fiona crept out into the hallway and stopped in front of Belinda and Henry's door. Crouching down, she put her eye to the large keyhole. She had been doing this for some time now, first driven to it by an insatiable curiosity to match the sounds coming through the walls with their accompanying sights.
Tonight, Fiona could see Belinda laying on her back on the edge of the bed while Henry stood between her outstretched legs, rutting into her with wild abandon. Belinda's belly was now round with child, and every now and then, Henry would pause, grinding his cock into her cunny while he ran his hands possessively over her taut bump and swollen breasts, telling her how beautiful she was. Belinda, in turn, would moan and beg him to fuck her harder, faster.
Fiona watched until the two lovers came to a shattering climax, Henry stroking himself and painting Belinda's large belly with his cum while she shuddered in ecstasy, gripping her large breasts tightly in her hands.
Then Fiona stumbled back to her bed, her face red with embarrassment. She quickly lifted her nightgown and bit her lip when her shaking fingers found her aching core, dripping wet and tender. She pressed her lips together so she would not make any noise, and began to rub her little nub of pleasure, coming to a crashing orgasm only after a few caresses, she was so worked up. As throes of pleasure racked her body, she trembled on the sheets, her hand clamped between her thighs, swallowing her moans as best she could. When she was finally spent, she turned her face into the pillow and sighed with a mixture of confusion, shame, and longing.
The next morning, Fiona was heavy-eyed and sluggish. She picked at her toast and Mrs. Chamberlain asked her what was wrong.
"Nothing mamma, I just didn't sleep well last night."
Across the table, Belinda caught her eye and gave her a saucy wink, but Fiona quickly looked down at her plate, her face flushed red. Her sister was really too much sometimes!
Mrs. Chamberlain clucked her tongue. "I just don't know what is the matter with you, Fiona. Ever since you turned eighteen, I declare you have been so moody and impossible!" Fiona thought she could tell her mother what the matter was, since her eighteenth birthday had been only a couple of months after Belinda and Henry's wedding.
Instead, she swallowed some tea and let the familiar sounds of breakfast wash over her. Suddenly, her attention was caught by something her father was saying.
"So your old friend Mr. Jennings will be here in a few days, eh?"
Henry replied, "Yes, sir. I expect him on Thursday. Are you sure it's no trouble for him to stay here at the manor for several days?"
"Of course, of course!" Mr. Chamberlain waved his hand expansively. "Plenty of room in this big house, eh? Mr. Jennings is a clergyman, too, then?"
"Yes, a vicar in Wolver Hampton. He said he's long wanted to see this part of the country."
Fiona's attention drifted away again. So they were to have a vicar come to visit. Probably a fat, boring man with white whiskers, like most other priests she'd ever seen. She sighed as she picked up her toast and bit into it.
Three days later, when Fiona sat down for dinner on Thursday, she realized what an error she had made in her estimation of Henry's friend.
Mr. Andrew Jennings was a young man in his mid-twenties, tall and muscled. He and Henry had, in fact, gone to school and then university together. Apparently, his vicarage had a home farm and he was very involved in the running of it. Fiona's youngest sister, Jane, leaned over to whisper that farming must involve quite a lot of lifting of heavy objects if Mr. Jennings' strong physique was any indication. He had golden blonde hair that waved away from his brow and his eyes were such a dark shade of brown that they looked almost black. He and Henry made quite the attractive pair at the dinner table, their hair and eyes a contrast of light and dark.
Mr. Jennings was easy-going and had no problem joining in the conversation in the informal atmosphere of the Chamberlain's dining room. For some reason, however, every time Fiona met his penetrating, dark stare, a shiver ran down her back. She was a naturally shy girl, and this evening was no different. She spent it mostly in silence, nervously avoiding Mr. Jennings' company.
Later that night, despite her continued weariness, she still could not sleep until she had tiptoed out into the hallway and shamefacedly watched through the keyhole again as her brother-in-law debauched Belinda, this time while her sister was on all fours, grunting like an animal. Then, only after Fiona had brought herself to a shuddering climax in her own bed, did she fall into fitful dreams of a shadowy, dark-eyed stranger.
The next evening after dinner, when everyone had gathered in the sitting room, Fiona was startled out of her concentration on her embroidery when Mr. Jennings took a chair beside her.
"And how are you this evening, Miss Fiona?" he asked in his low, cultured voice.
"Fine, thank you, Mr. Jennings. We have been having lovely weather, haven't we?" Fiona fiddled with her embroidery hoop, keeping her gaze on her work. She had successfully evaded Mr. Jennings all day, but he had cornered her now. She looked helplessly at the others in the room, but they seemed to all be gathered around the pianoforte, laughing and joking as Jane plunked out a few notes.
"It has been extremely warm this past week, even more so here in the south,"
Mr. Jennings said in a friendly, conversational tone. "I often wake up thirsty on hot nights, don't you, Miss Fiona?" She made a noncommittal sound in response and he continued. "In fact, last night, I ran down to the kitchen for a glass of water. You can imagine my surprise when I came back to the hallway in the east wing and saw you there."
Fiona's fingers stilled. "Oh?" she whispered. She could feel a hot flush travel from her neck all the way up to the top of her head.
"Were you attempting to slake a thirst as well, Miss Fiona?"
Could he mean--? Fiona quickly looked up to meet Mr. Jennings' eyes, afraid of what she might see in them. Disgust? Anger? Disappointment? But he was only gazing at her thoughtfully, with a small smile playing across his lips. She jerked her head once in a nod before returning her gaze back down.
"Ah, yes, I thought that must be it," Mr. Jennings said smoothly.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Fiona. Mr. Jennings spoke to her for several more minutes, of innocuous and tame topics. He managed to put her somewhat at ease and when she was getting ready for bed that night, she wondered about what he said.
Had he merely seen her for a brief moment when she was walking back to her room? Or had he seen her being a disgusting voyeur to her own sister's intimate acts? In any case, she thought it best not to engage in her normal keyhole viewing activities, at least for tonight.
As if they knew they had to compensate for her absence at their door, Belinda and Henry seemed to be even louder.
"Yes Henry! I love it when you lick my cunny like that!"
"You're so delicious, Belinda. I could eat you all day!"
"Stick that big fucking cock in my cunny, Henry! Oh God, you fill me up so good!"
"You're getting tighter every day, Belinda. Fuck, you feel fantastic!"
It was a constant litany and even after Fiona had brought herself to an orgasm with her fingers, she felt wanting and unfulfilled. She rolled over and reached into the drawer of her bedside table. From deep inside, she brought out the birthday present Belinda had given her months ago, a long, wooden instrument shaped like a man's cock, polished to a shine. Belinda had gifted it to her in secret, with detailed descriptions of all the things she could do with it.
Fiona had furtively hid it in that drawer for many months without touching it, although she constantly thought of it with shame and curiosity. It wasn't until after she had started peeping through the keyhole that she first used it. Then, with a new understanding of the mechanics, she had slowly and gently begun to play with it, gradually gaining confidence and taking her own innocence.
Tonight, Fiona felt so needy that she shoved it quickly inside her slick cunny without any hesitation, giving out a gasp as she felt it forging into her hot depths. With her knees tucked up by her shoulders and her elbows bracing her legs open, she had found she could more easily manipulate the dildo. Her lithe body bent almost in half, she thrust the tool quickly in and out of her aching, soaked cunny, rubbing all around it with her other hand as the sounds of her sister and brother-in-law fucking continued to fill her ears.
Her cunny felt so good stretched around the dildo that it wasn't long before she brought herself to another climax, this one much stronger. Fiona writhed on the bed, her swollen channel pulsing and clenching around the thick wood as she tightly circled her sensitive clit. She let out a muffled moan, unable to hold in her vocal response to the waves of pleasure throbbing from her cunny. Finally, she flopped back on the sheets, her limbs outspread like a starfish, the dildo still lodged deep inside her lapping cunny. In this scandalous position, she finally fell asleep.
The next day, Fiona had no trouble dodging Mr. Jennings during the day because he and Henry spent most of it in the village at the rectory, presumably to discuss church business and swap stories of their lives as clergymen with the rector, Mr. Brewer. They returned in time for dinner, and Mr. Jennings was such an engaging, pleasant dinner companion that Fiona was lulled into thinking that he must not have seen any scandalous behavior on her part. After all, what kind of priest would condone her actions? If he had seen her peeping through the keyhole, wouldn't he have brought a fiery sermon down upon her head for her wicked ways?
This comfortable belief held all through the evening and Fiona felt much less worried by the time she climbed into her bed. So much so that when she didn't hear anything coming from the room next door, she felt that it would be perfectly safe to leave her bedchamber.
Belinda and Henry did not conduct all of their carnal relations in the privacy of their bedchamber. They often ventured out late at night to various rooms in the manor, although they did seem to have a decided and strange predilection for Mr. Chamberlain's small study. Their late night wanderings were always a source of excitement for Fiona, as they invariably left doors open or were in rooms that had more than one entrance. Although their bedroom keyhole was big, the view it afforded was limited, and pressing one's eye to it for minutes at a time was rather awkward. Thus, the promise of seeing Belinda and Henry more easily and comfortably always lured Fiona out into the house at large to play her own personal, bawdy game of hide and seek.
Tonight, she tracked them down in the library, her favorite place to view their debauchery because of how many hiding places there were. It was a very large room with shelves running up two floors and had a wide balcony all along three walls, separating the floors. Two tiny, spiral staircases were in each outer corner of the room, but you could also enter the balcony from a hallway on the second floor. On the open and spacious main floor, there were various desks and tables, as well as several comfortable arm chairs placed at the windows.
As Fiona tiptoed along the darkened balcony, searching for the best vantage point, Belinda stretched out on the largest desk, completely naked. Tonight, her scandalous sister and brother-in-law had lit several candles on tables nearby. Fiona could easily see that Belinda's dressing gown lay on the desk beneath her, cushioning her against its hard, wooden surface. Henry sat at a chair to her side, suckling one of her large breasts. Over the months, Fiona had watched with wonder as her sister's bosom had grown and grown, her pink areolas stretching to double their original size. The nipples also seemed to have elongated, and Henry was pulling at one with his fingers while he suckled at the other.
"I can't wait to taste your mother's milk, Belinda," he said in between sucks.
"Umm, me neither!" she replied.
Fiona sank to the floor, her knees wide. If she scooted her bum all the way up to the railing, she could see below through the thin wooden bars while still leaning back slightly to touch herself. She had never found any use for her strange flexibility before this past year, but had now realized that being able to contort herself into all kinds of positions had its benefits. The balcony was dark in the shadows, and she was sure she was completely hidden from view.
With her nightgown rucked up to her waist, Fiona reached her fingers down, finding herself wet and ready. The anticipation as she had tiptoed through the house had already made her damp and swollen. Down below, Henry had moved his chair so that he sat between his wife's thighs, his head at the perfect height to lean forward and lick her cunny.
He sucked and nibbled while thrusting his fingers into her juicy entrance. As he did so, Belinda praised his agile tongue and moaned her appreciation, squirming on the desk, the candlelight gleaming off her ripe, plump body.
"Yes, Henry, I'm going to cum, don't stop, don't stop!" Belinda cried out, her hands in Henry's hair as she ground her crotch into his mouth and tongue.
Fiona thought she, too, was on the edge as her hand worked between her thighs, her fingers slicking over her engorged clit again and again. She could feel the tightening in her belly, the pulsing in her clit, and just as she thought she would tip over into ecstatic release, a hand clamped over her mouth, and a warm, hard body crowded in behind her.
On the library floor below, Belinda was coming in shrieks of pleasure, shaking and groaning while Henry hummed in satisfaction, his tongue wringing more spasms out of his wife.
On the balcony, Fiona sat frozen, crammed against the wooden bars of the railing by whoever was behind her. Over the din her sister was making, she heard a familiar, low voice in her ear.
"You naughty, naughty girl," Mr. Jennings said. "What a nasty thing to do, watch your own sister get fucked." He was on his knees behind her, his mouth hovering close to her ear.
Fiona slowly began to move her hand away from her exposed cunny, but the voice tisked harshly. "Don't you dare move that hand. I want to see you make yourself come. If you can do it in the next sixty seconds, I won't tell your parents what a sinful daughter they have. One... two... three... Don't you think you had better start moving? Four..."
Mr. Jennings must have been satisfied that she would not cry out at this point, for he moved his hands to her breasts, easily finding her taut nipples through her thin nightgown. He pinched them hard on the fourth count, and this galvanized Fiona into action, her fingers once more circling rapidly around her clit. As he continued his whispered countdown, he squeezed the elongated tips of her breasts with each second, sending wicked shivers through her body that seemed to land straight in her hot cunny.
Fiona had been so close to release before, it wasn't long at all until she could feel the climax barreling towards her again. She could hardly believe it, but the seductive, hypnotic voice counting the seconds, the heat of his fingers torturing her tender nipples, and the sight and sounds of Henry and Belinda, now fucking with enthusiastic abandon down below, were all swiftly moving her towards the pinnacle.
"Forty-six... forty-seven... not too much time left now... forty-eight... forty-nine... yes, that's it, you filthy little slut, come for me, do it!" Mr. Jennings' whispers had become harsh, and as he rasped those last words in her ear, Fiona's eyes rolled up into her head and she came hard. Her jaw dropped open in a silent scream as waves and waves of overwhelming pleasure inundated her and she shook for endless moments as she firmly pressed her fingers against her throbbing clit.
Her head lolled back on the broad shoulder behind her, and suddenly, she was effortlessly lifted in strong, muscular arms. She felt Mr. Jennings kiss her damp temple. As he quickly and quietly carried her back to the east wing, he said in a low whisper that made her tremble, "What a very good girl you are, Fiona. I think you deserve a reward."
To be continued.
By cocteleo for Literotica
