Saint Michael’s Church has a new First Lady, named Jenna.
A Series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Jenna’s New Year: Part 1
Candlemas Romp
This Sunday had brought the heaviest rain so far of 2023. The weather had caused a notable drop in the number of people attending this morning's church service, Reverend Morris noticed.
Today was Candlemas, which commemorated the ritual purification of Mary, forty days after the birth of her son Jesus. This day also marked the ritual presentation of the baby Jesus to God in the Temple at Jerusalem. It reminded Jenna of her own sacred ritual of fertility, Mentula Cōleī Baptism’. She’s thankful to be so blessed by God, to have such devoted church elders guiding her spiritual development.
After the service, and the usual tea, biscuits and chit chat in the church hall, Reverend Morris was eager to return to the vicarage. His wife had given him "that look"; and he knew what that meant. It had been a week since they'd made love, and as he had a feeling Jenna would be more than up for "a little afternoon delight," as she termed it.
Outside, the late January winter rain was still lashing down. Despite the vicarage being a five minute walk from the church, the vicar and his wife had neglected to bring an umbrella with them. By the time they arrived home, they were both soaked to the bone.
Reverend Morris' hair was wet, and the legs of his trousers clung damply to him, and the back of his black shirt was also soaked. He figured he was going to come down with a nasty cold if he didn't get into some dry clothes right away. Jenna evidently had the same thought, and they went straight upstairs to the master bedroom.
She opened the wardrobe doors, and he switched on a bedside lamp. Shivering, they stripped out of their wet clothes.
When they were nearly undressed, they glanced at each other. Their eyes locked.
Still, they didn't speak. They didn't need to.
He took her in his arms, and they kissed lightly at first, tenderly. Her mouth was warm and soft and vaguely flavored with communion wine.
She clutched him, pulled him closer, her fingertips digging into the muscles of his back. She pushed her mouth hard against his, scraped his lip with her teeth, thrust her tongue deep, and abruptly their kisses grew hot, demanding.
Something seemed to snap in him, and in her, too, for their desire was suddenly marked by animal urgency. They responded to each other in a hungry, almost frenzied fashion, hastily casting off the last of their clothes, pawing at each other’s wet bodies, squeezing, stroking. She nipped his shoulder with her teeth. He gripped her pert buttocks and kneaded them with uncharacteristic crudity, but she didn't wince or try to pull away; indeed, she pressed even more insistently against him, rubbing her breasts over his chest and grinding her hips against his. Their wet, tussled hair and slippery bodies wrestled to seduce each other into submission. The soft whimpers that escaped from her were not sounds of pain; they clearly expressed her eagerness and need.
In bed, his energy was manic, and his staying power amazed him. He was insatiable, and so was she. They thrust and thrashed and flexed and tensed in perfect harmony, as if they were not only joined but fused, as if they were a single organism, shaken by only one set of stimuli instead of two. Every vestige of civilization slipped from them, and for a long while the only noises they made were animal sounds: panting; groaning; throaty grunts of pleasure; short, sharp cries of excitement. At last Jenna uttered the first word to pass between them since they had left the church:
"Oh my God!"
And again, arching her slender, graceful body, tossing her head from side to side on the pillow: "Yes, yes!" It was not merely an orgasm to which she was saying yes, for she'd already had a couple of those and had announced them with only ragged breathing and soft mewling. She was saying yes to life.
The vicar repeated the word as if chanting a sacred incantation,"Yes, yes, yes!"as he emptied his cum into her a second time.
Spent, they stretched out on their backs, side by side on the disheveled bed. For a long time they listened to the rain on the roof and to the persistent thunder, which was no longer loud enough to rattle the windows. Wind howled around the side of the house.
Jenna lay with her eyes closed, her face completely relaxed.
"Lovely service this morning, Simon!" She said at last. "Great choice of hymns."
"It certainly was. I think my sermon went down well. Shame about the weather."
"Hmm, I don't know - I think the rainy weather makes me much hornier than normal!" It isn’t even February, but my winter ‘cabin fever’ has already set in. Get ready for more of this ravishing sex, my stud!
"Happy Candlemas, Jenna," Reverend Morris replied.
Jenna & the Church Trip: Part 1
“Thine be the glory hole!”
More light-hearted goings-on with vicar's wife Jenna. New year, new naughtiness, and a dull coach trip organized by the church might turn out to be more fun than expected! God works in mysterious ways. For Jenna’s husband, it was relief from a nymph wife who had few other ways to occupy herself, besides sexual romps, at all hours of the day and night.
"I'm so pleased that Alpha and Omega coach holidays have re-started their short breaks," Reverend Simon Morris excitedly exclaimed. "I've just booked us on the three-day trip to Epworth!"
His wife Jenna looked up from her phone. "Epworth? Where's that?"
"It's in Lincolnshire. Now I know what you're thinking, it's January, the excitement of Christmas and the New Year is over and it's such a dull time of year. The weather is awful and what I really should be doing is booking us a fortnight in the Maldives or Barbados to escape the British winter blues. But instead I've booked us a coach trip to Lincolnshire,"
Jenna tried to look interested. "Well, I've never been to Lincolnshire. Always nice to see somewhere new."
"The reason I booked this trip is that Epworth is the birthplace of John and Charles Wesley. I thought you'd like to see it. After all, you are a big fan of them, yes?" He winked at her. "Oakwood Road Methodist Church are forever grateful to you for what you did last year."
Jenna grinned. "I'd love to see their birthplace. So, when is this trip?"
"Next Monday. I think it'll be a fun little getaway. Gordon's coming along too. Oh and so is Barry, his cousin."
That made Jenna perk up. Ooh, she thought to herself. I wonder if he's as hot? "He's recovered from his broken ankle then?"
"As far as I know, he's made a full recovery. His daughter Lisa came over from Florida to stay with him, so Gordon was relieved at that."
"Thank goodness for that," Jenna replied. She'd really missed seeing her favorite organist. Oakwood's organist Raymond Wilson had done a superb job standing in for Gordon, thanks to some "gentle persuasion" from Jenna on Christmas Eve. "What sort of hotel are we staying at?"
Reverend Morris looked at the Alpha and Omega brochure. "Hmm. We're staying at a hotel just outside Epworth that was originally a 17th century coaching inn. It's called The Parson's Knob, "
Jenna almost spat out the coffee she was drinking. "Seriously?"
"I'm sure there is an innocent explanation for that name! Then again, maybe not! According to the travel agent, all twenty rooms of the hotel had been booked up for a group of Albanian asylum seekers. However for some bizarre reason, after a few days, the Albanians all begged to be transferred to a Travelodge a few miles away."
"That is weird," Jenna replied. "I'd much rather stay in a lovely old historical inn than some crappy Travelodge. Oh well. Maybe they wanted somewhere a bit more modern?"
"Perhaps?"
The day of the trip arrived. The British weather was true to form, and it had been raining hard since dawn. "When's the coach due again?" Jenna asked as she and Reverend Morris shivered at the bus stop opposite the railway station.
"Should be here now," her husband replied. "Oh look, there's Gordon and Barry!"
"Hmm, maybe this trip won't be so dull after all!" She smirked. Barry was basically a clone of Gordon. "Looks more like his identical twin brother than his cousin!" The only difference being that Barry was wearing glasses. The resemblance was uncanny.
"I don't know why I let you talk me into coming with you on this trip," Barry moaned as he and Gordon approached the bus stop. "You know I'm not a member of the God Squad, "
"You haven't met the vicar's wife yet," Gordon whispered.
"Oh, this the lass you've got the hots for?" His skeptical cousin rolled his eyes.
"I think you'll find quite a lot of the fellas at St. Michael's Church have the hots for her," Gordon replied. "Oh God, there she is!"
Barry adjusted his glasses. "Bloody hell. You weren't kidding when you said she was a bit of a fox, were you? Dream on! She's way too young for you, Gordy! I'd say she's way too young for the vicar too, but she must have a thing for older men if she's ended up marrying him,"
Gordon chuckled. "If only you knew half of the things that go on at St. Michael's, dear cousin. If you did, wild horses wouldn't be able to drag you away from the Sunday Eucharist!"
"Hello!" Jenna said. "Oh Gordon, is this your cousin?"
"Hiya, and yes, this is Barry. He's not been won over by St. Michael's yet,"
"I see. Nice to meet you! Maybe you'll think differently about our church after you've been on this trip?"
"Perhaps," Barry interrupted, ogling Jenna, until Gordon gave him a nudge.
Ten minutes later, a white minibus pulled up at the bus stop.
"Oh, I was expecting a coach," said Jenna. Further along the street, came Josh the curate and Norman the churchwarden.
"Not as many people booked as was expected," Reverend Morris replied. "I blame the weather. Afraid there's only six of us!"
The group boarded the bus. Barry turned to Gordon. "She's not the typical vicar's wife is she?"
"Oh not at all," Gordon smiled.
Barely half an hour into the journey and as always tended to happen on road trips, someone needed the toilet.
Reverend Morris rolled his eyes. "Oh for goodness sake, we've only just set off. We're not due to stop for another hour, when we have our lunch at Cusworth Hall in Doncaster!
"This does tend to happen when you have elderly passengers," the bus driver remarked. "I know. I've been doing this job for thirty years. The stories I could tell you!"
"We haven't got any elderly passengers," the vicar replied. "It's our organist who needs to go. As usual!"
"Oi, it's not my fault my bloody prostate makes me pee more!" Gordon yelled from the back of the bus. "You're not being very Christian today, Vicar! How about some compassion for your fellow man?"
"Yes, yes, alright. I'm sorry Gordon. Alright, we'll find somewhere to pull in for a quick comfort break. Is that okay with you, Ahmed?"
"No worries," the bus driver replied, checking the sat nav. "There's a coach stop a couple of miles away. I'll just come off at the next junction and it's right there. I've stopped at it a few times. It's a bit down at heel, but,"
"That'll do. As long as there are toilets."
"Oh yeah. They're unisex though, and a bit, grimy. Is that a problem?"
"Not at all," Reverend Morris smirked. "Any port in a storm, as the old saying goes!"
The minibus exited the motorway. A short time later, it pulled onto the car park of Jed's Butty Hut, a sandwich restaurant in a 1960s prefab that had seen better days.
"Right," Reverend Morris said, checking his watch. "We'll have a fifteen minute stop here. Can everyone be back on the bus by ten o'clock please?"
The toilets were at the back of the main building. Gordon hurried in first. There were five cubicles, each with its own nauseating odor. He entered the first one. The toilet was missing a seat and the bowl was overflowing with vomit.
"Ugh. No thanks." He hurried out and entered the next one. A dead crow was sticking out of the toilet, beak wide open and wings spread, reminiscent of a scene from Hitchcock's The Birds.
"Fuck," he muttered, rushing out and into the third one. This toilet seemed clean enough, only a few cigarette ends and crack pipes floating in it.
A few minutes later, Jenna decided to relieve herself, even though she could've held on until Doncaster. It was always the same on a trip. You got the urge to go even though you didn't actually need to go.
The pretty redhead went into the end cubicle, which was the cleanest of the lot. Graffiti was daubed all over the walls, the usual expletives, plus crude drawings of cocks done in black marker pen. An urban art gallery for the times, she remarked to herself as she did her thing. It was then that she noticed a neat, circular hole on the lower right side of the partition wall.
"Ooh, a glory hole," she said to herself. "I wonder if it's well-used?"
"Why don't we try it out?" A muffled voice in the next cubicle muttered. Seconds later, a cock poked through it!
"Gordon, is that you?" Jenna whispered. The shaft was thick just like his.
"No," the mystery man replied. She didn't recognize his voice, so he had to be someone from the restaurant. Jenna gasped. A burst of excitement ran through her, at the thought of touching this stranger's cock. At the same time, the danger associated with doing this seemed to add to the thrill.
With her right hand, she reached down, slowly tracing up and down the length of the engorged cock with her palm. The man let out a groan. The size and hardness of his member increased Jenna's excitement. Her cunt was getting increasingly wet in anticipation, and she quickly knelt down in front of the generous offering.
She rolled her tongue around its circumference and sucked on it as she would a piece of fruit, trying to get every drop of pre-cum. Not content with just a portion, she began to slowly venture down the shaft. With every thrust forward, she took more of it down her throat.
"Oh!" The mystery man exclaimed. He moaned in pleasure and bestowed every compliment he could think of on her.
Jenna withdrew in order to say something. "What a gentleman you are!"
"Well you're damned good," came his reply.
With every bobbing of her head, Jenna made progress toward the base. Above the slurping sounds she made as she wetted the shaft with her saliva, she could hear the stranger gently moaning with approval at her technique. She began to vary her speed; one moment erupting with a robust attack, then at an instant slowing her pace to relish the feast.
Feeling the end would arrive soon, Jenna quickened her speed. She too, felt the rising heat from her crotch swelling to an orgasmic crescendo. Then, at the apex of pleasure, there erupted from deep within her cunt a spasm, which rapidly spread a pleasing warmth all over her body.
The man's body stiffened as he released his full load into Jenna's mouth with a mighty groan. When every drop had been expelled, he slowly withdrew his rod from the glory hole.
"Mmm, delicious," Jenna said, swallowing all the cum. There was the sound of a zipper being fastened. Suddenly she heard the main door of the toilets open and a group of people enter. She stood up and flushed the toilet. The mystery man exited the cubicle before Jenna was able to peek through the glory hole to see who he was.
"Oh shit," Jenna muttered, checking her smartphone. It was ten o'clock. "Simon's not going to be too happy."
Hurrying out of the toilet, she washed her hands and dashed out.
"Sorry I'm last guys," she said, getting back on the bus. "Those toilets were gross. I wasted time putting loads of paper on the seat."
"Don't blame you," Reverend Morris replied. "I confess, I couldn't bring myself to go in! I'm squeamish about public loos, especially filthy ones. I'll just cross my legs until we get to Doncaster!"
The minibus pulled out of the car park.
Gordon glanced at his cousin, who appeared to be in a daze. "What's the matter with you? The sight of that dead bird in the bog?"
"Uh, what?" Barry replied, staring straight ahead.
"Never mind. You mustn't have seen it."
"I've seen the light," said Barry.
"Are you hammered or something?"
Barry smiled and turned to Gordon. "You were right! She isn't the typical vicar's wife!"
As the minibus exited the M180 motorway and drew near to its destination, tall pines crowded the sides of a long main road. They formed a grey-green tunnel, casting long shadows in the late-afternoon light. The day was cloudless yet strangely forbidding, Reverend Morris mused.
"Well the weather's a lot better than it was this morning!" Jenna said, knocking her husband out of his thoughts. "The land sure is flat round here. No hills anywhere."
"I think some parts of the Fens are below sea level," Reverend Morris said. "The highest point is World’s Top. Lots of beautiful areas for walking and such, shame we haven't the time to explore the Wolds. Oh well, there'll be other times. I'm looking forward to getting off this bus and stretching my legs, though!"
A road sign appeared. Epworth, 2 miles.
A few houses were tucked in the purple gloom among the trees on both sides of the road; their windows glowed with soft yellow light even an hour before nightfall. Most were Georgian-era red brick cottages with terracotta roof tiles.
The Parson's Knob was a 3 story building dating back to the 1690s. Once a coaching inn, it had gone through various occupations before being converted into a hotel. As the minibus pulled onto the car park, a peculiar sense of wrongness immediately overcame Reverend Morris. He could not identify the reasons for his instant negative reaction to the place, though perhaps it was related to the somber interplay of light and shadow caused by the tall conifers encircling the car park. At this dying end of the January day, in the cheerless sunlight, the white painted exterior of the building gleamed as if built from time-bleached bones. The shadows cast by the trees were stark, spiky, razor-edged.
Exiting the minibus, the small group made their way into the hotel. There was no-one at the reception desk.
"Ah, typical British service," Gordon muttered to Barry. "Non-existent."
As the group waited for a member of staff to arrive, Reverend Morris paused to study the other guests in the lounge. Not many were there, four or five people, mostly middle-aged. They also struck him as wrong, though his reasons for thinking ill of them were less definable than those that fanned his impression of the hotel itself. They looked uneasy, one man wandering around with peculiar air of urgency that seemed unsuited to an old-fashioned hotel such as this.
Reverend Morris sighed and headed back to the reception desk, telling himself that his imagination was running wild.
Gordon, not known for patience, pressed the bell on the reception desk again.
"Does anyone work at this place? We've been stood here for ten minutes!"
Moments a later, an overworked-looking Eastern European woman came hurrying behind the desk.
"I'm so sorry for your wait! We're really short-staffed at the moment. Many workers have gone on strike."
"Makes a change from being absent due to testing positive I suppose," Gordon replied and the vicar pulled a face at him.
"We've only four rooms available, the receptionist replied. "A lot of rooms are, being redecorated. Mr. and Mrs. Morris, you're in Room 13, which has a double bed." She turned to the others. "Which leaves three rooms, all with two single beds. Someone will have a room of their own, but the other four of you will have to share. Are you gentleman okay with sharing?"
Josh looked at Norman. "That's fine by me."
Gordon looked horrified. "I'm not sharing a room with my cousin. He snores!"
"What? No I don't!" Barry shouted.
"You do. When I was seeing to you over Christmas when you had that broken ankle, you nodded off on the couch and your snoring was that bad, doors were opening and closing."
Ahmed the bus driver attempted to calm the situation. "I don't mind sharing. My wife snores. They can hear her snores in Bradford. I'm used to it though. I just put my wireless earbuds in."
"Okay, thanks, that's sorted then. Mr. Leesmith, you get the room of your own then, yes?"
"Suits me!" Gordon smiled. "I prefer a room all to myself."
Jenna smirked. "Unless you have to share a room with a woman, or a pipe organ, right?"
He winked back at her. "You know me so well!"
Barry raised an eyebrow. "Hmm, "
Reverend Morris and Jenna trudged up three flights of stairs to get to the room, seeing as the lift was out of order.
"Good thing we've just got overnight bags instead of heavy suitcases," he said. "I'm not too enamored with this place so far."
"What do you expect for such a low price though? It could be so much worse. It's dated and badly in need of re-decorating, but it seems clean enough. Cheer up Simon!" Jenna said. Already she was thinking of Gordon, all alone in his room. Maybe I could read him a bedtime story,
"Yep, you're right. Sorry for being such a misery guts today. Not very Christian is it?"
The vicar had arrived with the knowledge that something was rotten there, so of course he saw ominous signs in a perfectly innocent scene.
At least that was what he told himself. But he knew better.
During the wait at the reception desk, he'd overheard two of the guests discussing the hotel. Why had the Albanians left in such a hurry? What was the real reason for the workers going on strike? Reverend Morris had a hunch that the truth, once uncovered, would be unusually disturbing.
Room 13, despite the bad luck associated with such a number, was decent enough, clean, double bed and a view overlooking the River Torne.
"Ooh comfy!" Jenna flopped on the bed. Reverend Morris peered out of the window. To the west, the sun sank through a sky that was slowly turning muddy red. Serpentine tendrils of fog began to rise off the water.
"There's a bit of a disagreeable chill in this room. I suppose it's because this window isn't double glazed." He sat down on the bed, still feeling a dim but persistent sense of unease.
Jenna bit her lip. "Why don't we have some, fun?" She whispered something in her husband's ear and his eyes widened.
"My dear, are you sure?"
She stood up and began loosening her clothing. "Long journeys make me so horny. What do you think John Wesley would do after a long journey?"
He blinked. "Well, usually, he'd sit reading his Bible,"
"Hmm. In that case, let me lead you into temptation." She removed the last of her clothes.
Reverend Morris immediately had a raging boner. "What a good idea!" The negative thoughts vanished from his mind as his wife began pleasuring herself.
Jenna's eyes were heavy-lidded as she stared at the outline of the reverend's cock, which was presently tenting his black trousers. She lay back on the bed, and her bare foot slowly stroked up the inside of his thigh caressing the bulge of his manhood. Reverend Morris moaned at her sensual touch and thrust his hips instinctively against her foot. He raised her leg, ran his tongue lightly along the sole of her other foot, making her giggle. A low laugh rumbled in his throat as he went back to her toes, kissing each one before working his way up her smooth leg.
"Oh Simon,"
She murmured his name in a needy whine, spreading her milky thighs further apart as his mouth slowly kissed and licked closer to her core. Unable to resist such an invitation, he settled on his stomach between her legs. He drew his tongue along her hot slit then closed his mouth over it to suck up her sweet juices. Jenna gasped, arching her back. Her husband began to worship her eagerly, her taste inflaming his want. She cried out then, rocking her hips and coming in his mouth. After savoring her juices, Reverend Morris stood up, unzipped his trousers, pulled out his cock and began lazily stroking it. She purred at the sight, sitting up in front of him and wrapping her hand around the base of the shaft.
"Let me bless you."
He moved his hand and allowed her to stroke him. "Mmm, I am blessed in many ways, and eternally thankful!"
"Seeing as this hotel hasn't impressed you, it's up to me to make our stay here memorable." Jenna smiled and crawled in his lap, straddling him. The feeling of having her so close in his arms as she jacked him with her hand was intense because her cunt hovered so close to the head of his cock. Growling, Reverend Morris grasped her arse cheeks. Jenna closed her eyes in joy.
At that point, an unseen presence in the room grew tired of being a mere spectator and decided to join in.
He knelt behind Jenna so that she was sandwiched between the two of them, and began stroking her lower back.
Reverend Morris began caressing her breasts. She let out a little moan at his touch.
Enjoying her reaction, the invisible one moved his right hand down and he very gently used his index finger to massage her arsehole.
"Ooh Simon. That's new, but I like it!"
"What is?"
"Huh?" Jenna opened her eyes and realized both his hands were still on her tits. "I just felt something finger my butthole, ah!"
Arching her back and squeezing her husband's cock with her hand, she uttered a breathy scream.
"Simon, I think there's a ghost in here!" Jenna whimpered in response as the unseen presence put firm pressure on her rosebud. "Ahh, he's fingering my arse!"
"I can't see anyone," Reverend Morris moaned, desperate to feel the tight walls of Jenna's sex engulf him. "Maybe John Wesley's come looking for you?" He shifted his hips so the head of his aching shaft was nestled at her entrance.
"I'm being serious here!"
Someone continued to stroke her arsehole, gradually putting more pressure until the tip of his finger was inside.
"Mmm yes," Reverend Morris sighed, too under the spell of arousal to care.
Jenna sighed in pleasure, steadily lowering herself onto her husband's cock. The unseen one pushed his finger a little bit further inside her tight anal passage. Jenna let out a surprised squeak of pleasure and wiggled her hips until he was fully embedded inside of her, .his finger and her husband's cock now filling her sweet holes.
Reverend Morris moaned as he intensified his strokes, plunging his cock in and out of her cunt. Jenna cried out in delight at this and then the unseen one's finger pressed deeper still and suddenly she was coming again. Her clenching walls coupled with an invisible finger embedded in her arse created a tightness around Reverend Morris' cock beyond anything he thought possible and with the first compression of her orgasm around his cock, a low whine escaped his throat and he came, filling her with his seed.
The unknown entity carefully withdrew his finger from Jenna's arse. There was no time for her to catch her breath.
She murmured, as her husband moved away, stroking his softening cock. Suddenly, something slid up her arse, thrusting gently to begin with. She was surprised that it didn't hurt at all. She'd never experienced anal before but had read it could be extremely painful. And without lube, well that didn't bear thinking about!
"Ahha, ha, who are you, what are you?" Jenna panted.
The invisible presence shot a massive load of cum deep inside her arse and she closed her eyes tight. He pulled out, and Jenna panted, sweat running off her and cum oozing out of both orifices,
"Oh," Jenna gasped, flopping forward. A yell of terror from her husband finally brought her to her senses.
"Oh my God!"
"What's wrong, Simon?"
"There! There!" His eyes were wide with fright and he was pointing. "Behind you! Who, what is that? He's got no head!"
Jenna looked round. He was dressed in black. A white collar. The unmistakable clothing of a Cromwellian-era preacher. And was completely without a head.
"A headless ghost has just had anal sex with me," Jenna blinked. "I'm, kind of okay with this. I had a threesome with my vicar husband and a ghost. Is that a holy trinity or an unholy one?"
Reverend Morris twitched and fainted.
"What a shame you can't talk," Jenna said, standing before him. "I wonder who you are? Did I please you? If I did, maybe you could bow?"
The headless ghost bowed and vanished.
"Aww. Well he seemed satisfied." She rushed over to her husband, who was staggering to his feet. "It's alright Simon. He's gone."
"I didn't just imagine all that did I?" Reverend Morris groaned, sitting on the bed. "We just, encountered a headless ghost?"
"Oh he was real alright. He came in my arse!"
"Are you sure you okay? Did he; it hurt you?"
"I'm fine! Was a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one."
"Hmm, I think we should say a prayer for that lost soul," Reverend Morris replied. "I wouldn't like to think he'll return later tonight."
"Oh I don't think he will," Jenna smiled. "He was just horny and he is satisfied now. He bowed at me before he disappeared."
"I guess that explains why those Albanians begged to be transferred to the Travelodge! The travel agent never said anything about this place being haunted. No wonder its half-empty!"
Later
It was around five minutes after midnight. In Room 11, Gordon was tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. Despite wearing nothing but his vest and y-fronts, he was boiling hot, and sweat was running down his brow.
"God, this room's like a furnace!" He groaned, throwing the duvet off and switching the bedside lamp on. He staggered over to the radiator. It was as cold as ice.
"Why's it so hot in here? Hope I'm not coming down with flu or something."
Gordon made his way into the bathroom and fumbled around for the light pull cord. Intending to splash his face with cold water, he hurriedly turned the washbasin tap, but instead of water, black powder shot out of it.
"What the fuck?" He squinted at the stuff. "Looks like soil. A right dump this place is.
A curious smoky smell met his nose. There was something familiar about the smell, it reminded him of fireworks. Hearing faint laughter, Gordon looked in the mirror.
"Bloody hell!"
Ahmed and Barry were rudely awakened by a furious banging on the bedroom door.
"What the?" Barry groaned, getting out of bed. "Who can that be? Almost knocking the door down!"
"Might be a drunk or a crackhead," Ahmed said. "Don't open the door. They usually get bored and go bother someone else.
"Barry! Barry! Let me in!" Gordon yelled.
Barry opened the door and was almost knocked over as Gordon dashed in.
"Can I sleep here? I have to sleep in here!"
"Whoa, whoa, calm down. What's happened?" Barry said.
"Can I sleep here?" Gordon prattled. The color had drained from his face.
"There's no spare bed."
"Do you think I care about that?" Gordon yelled, grabbing his cousin by the front of his pajamas. "I'll sleep on the floor! I can't go back to that room! Oh my God. I've just had the shock of my life!"
"Did someone break into your room?" Ahmed asked.
"Break in? Not much chance of stopping a ghost from breaking in is there? My bloody room is haunted!"
To be continued.
By Blacksheep for Literotica.
Neighbor Duties.
Kelsie tours her new neighbor's home after he says, "Howdy." Based on a post by RavenAngstrom Listen to the ► Podcast a...
-
In 1954, an Ohio girl goes east and gets an education. By Erlikkhan . Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories . Dear Mom and Dad, ...
-
Virgin guy gets the girl at last. by S3lwyncd0g - listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories . I had no idea how much my life was abou...
