Jenna helps a nervous choirmaster.
Based on a post by Blacksheep, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Reverend Simon Morris scanned through a long list of church notices. Holy Week was such a busy time for the parish vicar, and he still hadn't finished his special sermon ready for Easter Sunday.
"Palm Sunday was really well-attended," he said, typing something on his laptop. "Now there are one or two church notices I need to read through."
His wife Jenna walked into the living room. "Oh before I forget, Simon, Judith Anderson from the Sunday School had a word with me after the service. She wishes it to be known that her grandson Kyle is trans, and now wants to be known as Ellie.
John Pollard from the Men's Society has split up from his wife and wishes for her name to be removed from the church hall coffee rotation, too."
"Ah, right, thanks. I'd better make a note of that. Are Gordon and Myah up to speed on the Maundy Thursday service's music? I know he normally does a choir and organ practice then, but;"
"Already emailed them, Simon," Jenna replied. "Relax. Everything is under control."
"Choir practice for you tonight? I must say, I think it was a genius idea of Gordon's to combine our church's choir with the Guild Voices, just for our Easter service. Our choir is small, so it'll be nice to have a bigger group of singers for the holiest day in our Christian calendar."
"Oh yes, the bigger the better," Jenna replied with a smirk. She'd just joined the Guild Voices, a mixed-voice choir of around twenty-five singers who performed several concerts a year. The choir was formed with the aim of singing the whole range of music both accompanied and acapella; both religious and secular, from the renaissance pieces of Byrd and Tallis to great oratorios such as Handel's "Messiah." In addition to traditional works, they also performed classical versions of popular music. Jenna was enjoying the weekly recitals, and not just because of the music. The choirmaster was a chap called Derek Blackledge, and on more than one occasion, Jenna had noticed him staring at her.
"Last year, the Guild Voices performed at Evensong at York Minster," Reverend Morris said. "Gosh, I'm so looking forward to our Easter Sunday Service! We'll definitely have a bigger congregation than St. Peter's;"
"Ooh, do I sense a rivalry between churches, Simon?"
"Well, a bit unChristian of me to say, but I can't stand that Reverend Conway. He completely blanked me at annual clergy conference last month. I don't know what his problem is."
"Not all vicars are as wonderful as you, my love."
He smiled and resumed typing. "They've just got a new organist there too. Conway was raving about him. Younger bloke, seems to have the women of St. Peter's all hot and bothered. Edward, I think his name is."
"Ha, he won't be anywhere near as good as Gordon is," Jenna said. "Nobody plays organ as good as he does."
"I don't think it's his playing they're interested in! Apparently he resembles the actor Robert Pattinson. I suppose that's one way to get more younger people attending church services."
Jenna almost dropped the cup of coffee she was holding. "Fancy that." She stifled a gasp. I can't believe it. That was the organist who played for the King at Liverpool Cathedral last year! She thought. He was a cutie for sure; had a nice cock too, as I recall. Small world. Never imagined he'd end up here in our town.
The Guild Voices choir practices took place every Wednesday evening in a function room at the town hall. The room was spacious and blessed with good acoustics, a piano and a box organ. Jenna arrived earlier than normal, and gathered up her music books off the car's passenger seat.
"Hope none of the others are there yet," she smiled to herself.
Derek Blackledge was alone in the function room, adjusting a music stand. He was a tall, stocky man, around sixty years of age. He was wearing a pale blue open-necked shirt, black trousers and rimless glasses. His buzz-cut silver hair was balding. He had a round face and a wide, flat nose, which as Jenna had overheard another member of the choir unkindly say, "made him look like he'd been bashed in the face with a frying pan." That wasn't strictly true, and Jenna didn't think him that bad looking at all. He spoke in a clipped, staccato sort of way.
Derek looked up as Jenna entered the room. In the four weeks she'd been a member of the Guild Voices, the stunning redhead had certainly livened up the group of mostly boomer-age singers. Jenna was one of the most beautiful and charming women he had ever met, and he couldn't understand what she saw in her husband, the much-older Reverend Morris. The good vicar was a kind and decent chap, but seemed duller than Skegness in January.
"Uh; evening Jenna! You're very early! I was just;"
"Hello Derek. Yes, didn't realize just how early I was!"
"Nothing wrong with that. I admire your dedication. Would you like a brew?" He walked over to a small table in the corner of the room where there was a coffee machine and a kettle.
"Yes please. Tea. White, no sugar."
He made some more idle chatter whilst he waited for the kettle to boil. Glancing round, he noticed she'd seated herself on a chair and crossed her legs. The black dress she was wearing was quite short and had ridden up nicely, exposing a generous amount of thigh. A most welcome sight for the long-divorced choirmaster who'd had zero success in the world of dating since going back on the market.
"This our last rehearsal before Easter Sunday," Derek prattled, pouring the hot water into a mug. "It just seems to have crept up all at once. I'm looking forward to performing in St Michael's Church, with your choir. I hear your organist is very good."
"Oh Gordon? Yes he's brilliant. He won't let you down."
"Great to hear. Now I just need to ensure that the Guild doesn't let everyone down."
Looking at the stocky choirmaster whom possessed a definite lack of confidence, Jenna realized that she would have to take control of the situation if the choir was going to put on their best performance on Easter Sunday. She had always been aware of Derek's interest in her physical attributes. In fact, she could see his eyes lingering on her breasts and her bare legs crossed in front of her. Perhaps it was now time to play her trump card.
"I know we've had a few setbacks."
"Setbacks? Do you know how much George and Alice being off sick is going to set us back? George is the best tenor we have." He handed her the mug of tea and sat opposite her.
"Perhaps I could do something to make things better." Jenna slowly uncrossed her legs and recrossed them, allowing her skirt to hike up her thigh watching Derek as his eyes were glued to her legs, straining to see up higher. He swallowed heavily as he shifted in his chair.
"Oh? Like what?"
"I could help relieve some of your pressure," she replied as she glanced at his crotch. The bulge tenting his black trousers already broadcasting his state of arousal.
Jenna stood up and walked over to him. "You're a wonderful choirmaster, Derek. I just want you to know that. You go the extra mile and know how to bring out the best in people."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he mumbled, turning red. He swallowed, feeling his erection straining against his trousers and underpants. It had been quite some time since a woman had got him worked up like this.
"Music really does bring people together," she continued.
"Yes, indeed it does;"
Jenna leaned forward so that her face was close to his and placed her right hand on Derek's groin and squeezed. The choirmaster's voice shot up several octaves, then he let out a groan.
"Jah, Jenna; what are you doing?"
"Just inspecting your crotchets and quavers, Derek." she added naughtily. "Oh, feels like you've got a bassoon in your pants!"
Before he could protest, she knelt and unzipped his black trousers, revealing his underwear - y-fronts, which had a musical notes pattern on them.
"Nice!" Jenna said out loud. She'd always had a fondness for men who wore y-fronts. She pulled them down, freeing his delightfully large cock. Grasping the base of the shaft, she took the bulbous head in her mouth and started to move up and down taking him deeper and deeper.
Derek gasped, unable to speak. Instinctively, he grabbed the back of her head and pushed down, forcing himself deeper until he felt her lips around the base of his shaft. Holding her head, he pumped his engorged organ deep into the mouth of the vicar's wife, scarcely believing that his private fantasy was coming true. Her warm soft mouth aroused him further as he felt the blood pumping into his groin, making him harder than he could remember. He leaned back and enjoyed the incredible sensations as Jenna sucked his manhood. She was good, very good. Her husband may not have been very interesting, but bloody hell, he was a lucky bastard!
Derek glanced warily at the conference room's door. At any moment, other members of the choir could come in. How the hell would he be able to explain himself?
"Oh, Mrs. Morris here was just helping me with a very hard; piece of music!"
As the stunning redhead continued to bob up and down in his lap, he leaned over and pulled down the top of her knit black dress to expose her pert breasts.
"Oh;" he sighed. "Not just; blessed with a fine voice."
Jenna glanced up at him and winked.
"How about; I try and hit the high notes?" Derek pulled out of her mouth, stood up and turned her so that her arse was bent over his chair. He pushed his trousers and y-fronts down to his ankles. After jerking down her knickers he moved behind her, flipped up her black dress, lined himself up, then thrust abruptly into her tight wet tunnel, burying himself to the hilt.
"Oh God Derek, your musical instrument feels amazing!"
He chuckled at this, and relished the fantastic feeling as he grasped her hips and slowly moved in and out of her hot passage, slick with her arousal. The illicit nature of the situation and doing it in a public place where they could be easily discovered added to the thrill and made both of them even more aroused. Jenna's nerves were hypersensitive and as the choirmaster plunged into her again and again she could feel the waves of pleasure build quickly.
Derek slid his hands forward to cup her hanging breasts, squeezing and pinching her nipples. He delighted in feeling the curved contour of the soft skin of her breasts in his hands as he pounded his rock-hard shaft into her. The pressure built quickly in his balls with the fantastic feeling of Jenna's tight vaginal walls clamped around his cock. It had been too long since he had really enjoyed such a sensuous treat and all too quickly he felt the pressure come to a head. He slammed his throbbing member as deep as he could and felt himself erupt as spurt after spurt of cum shot deep into his target.
Jenna felt Derek tense and his final thrusts pushed her over the edge and she too felt waves of pleasure course through her body as she was wracked with the spasms of her orgasm.
"Hmm! Oh Derek! Feels so good!"
"Fuck; I needed that!" He sighed, slowly withdrawing and collapsing in the chair, pulling Jenna down on top of him. "Not sure if I have the energy to conduct a choir practice now!"
"Well you'll just have to try your best, Derek. Because I have a feeling others will be arriving soon, so you'd better get your baton out."
"It's already out," he replied, taking a tissue from the box and wiping then stroking his softening cock, and pulling his underpants and trousers up. "Jenna that was; that was; lovely."
"Awe, you seem so much happier now, Derek. You're a really brilliant choirmaster." She flung her arms around him and kissed him.
"And you; are a very dedicated member of the choir!" He stammered. "Um, well, I guess I'd better; compose myself!" He stood up and hurriedly fastened his belt. Jenna straightened her dress and pulled her knickers up.
Just as Derek was zipping up the fly of his trousers, the door opened and Edna and Lawrence Draper, two members of the choir, came rushing in, as fast as they could, given that both had arthritic hips.
"Not too late are we Derek?" Edna said. "Only our bus was late."
"Uh, not at all, plenty of time. Please, help yourselves to a hot drink whilst I get organized." Derek said. Seconds later, more people filed into the room.
"What piece of music have you and Derek been working on?" Lawrence asked Jenna, as he sat next to her.
"Oh; just some scales and arpeggios," came her reply. "We were going up and down quite a lot!"
Bare feet thrill the vicar during Maundy Thursday.
"Brothers and Sisters. Today is Maundy Thursday, the fifth day of Holy Week. It gets its name from the Latin word 'mandare', from which we get the word 'command'. Christians remember Jesus' command: "Love one another as I have loved you."
Though each of the days leading up to Easter Sunday are significant in their own ways, Maundy Thursday surrounds the events that led directly to Jesus' betrayal, arrest, and ultimately, His being put to death the next day on Good Friday."
Reverend Morris continued. "The circumstances surrounding Maundy Thursday can be read in Matthew 26:17-75. The events that unfolded include the Last Supper that Jesus had with His disciples and betrayal of Jesus by Judas."
The weather had become more spring-like and milder, which was a blessing to some of the older members of the congregation. March had blown in like a lion and was going out like a lamb. St Michael's church was often chilly and draughty during the winter months, even with the heating on. Today, it was pleasantly warm, helped in part due to the church being full for once.
At the organ, Myah slipped her feet out of her shoes, ready to play a hymn before the start of the foot washing service. She rather liked the feel of the organ's pedalboard against her bare skin, and her feet felt hot and uncomfortable today. Earlier, she'd suffered cramp in the arch of her left foot. She reclined slightly on the stool, crossed her legs and idly flexed her toes as the vicar continued with his sermon. Gordon sat on a small bench behind her, admiring her shapely calves. He liked the way she raised her legs to slide onto the organ stool. Even more, he loved it when those legs were wrapped around him; something he was looking forward to later.
"Their time spent on the Mount of Olives, where Jesus prayed earnestly in the Garden of Gethsemane, and where He was ultimately betrayed with a kiss by Judas who came to seize Him with the temple guards. Peter's denial of Jesus;" Up in the pulpit, Reverend Morris glanced to his right and became more and more fixated on a certain something. One of his long-repressed kinks was rising to the surface at the most inappropriate of times. Women's feet, younger women's feet in particular, had always aroused him. He'd never told anyone about his foot fetish, not even Jenna. He'd never had such a reaction as this and certainly not during a church service. But the way his wife's cousin kept wiggling her toes like that, dear Lord, it was driving his imagination to commit all kinds of sin! It's Holy Week for heaven's sake; must fight this, he told himself.
"On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?" The vicar's voice trembled slightly, as he struggled to remain composed.
Abruptly, he noticed Myah wince and reach for her foot. The cramp had returned.
"What's wrong?" Gordon whispered.
"Damn cramp's back again," she replied. "Ah, it's agony! Can you play the hymn for me?"
"No problem," he said, as his girlfriend hobbled off the stool and sat on the bench. "Massage your foot slowly. Try putting it on the cold stone floor. That might help. I've gotten cramp loads of times in the past when playing. It's bloody torture!"
"Thanks, Gordy-Pie!"
Poor Myah, Reverend Morris thought. Now he had an even better view of her bare feet. Such slim and elegant feet. So nimble against the organ's pedalboard. He took a deep breath as he imagined he was cupping the arch of her foot, his hand slotted in the tender space between the heel and the upper sole. After an awkward pause, he continued his sermon.
"He replied, "Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, 'The Teacher says: My appointed time is near. I am going to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house.'" So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them and prepared the Passover."
Some young children were shifting uncomfortably in the pews.
"How will we show that God is King when we're tempted, to abandon the way God call us to live? Knowing God is our King should change everything but we can't change everything all at once! So what one small step of obedience can we take this week to demonstrate with our lives that God is King all of the time? Take time to pray, and then seek to obey as Jesus obeyed. Amen!"
Reverend Morris ended his sermon abruptly, no doubt to the relief of many, but most importantly, to himself. He descended from the pulpit and sat down beside the organ, as a member of the choir stepped up to the lectern to do a reading. He hardly heard a word the woman said, for his eyes were fixated on Myah's bare feet. She was still gently massaging her left foot. Oh dear, this was going to be unbearable. He knew she'd volunteered to take part in the ceremonial foot washing.
Myah suddenly glanced at the vicar and smiled at him. He jolted and cleared his throat, before smiling back. He could feel a familiar burning in his cheeks, not to mention a throbbing in his cock, which was now at full stand, and forcing its way up against his trousers and vestments. He had never been more grateful to be wearing a cassock and surplice. He cast his mind back to last year when he'd allowed himself to be seduced by her. All in the past of course and they'd moved on. Besides, she was blissfully happy in a relationship with Gordon. The organist had slept with Jenna on numerous occasions before Myah had come along. Hmm, well best not to dwell on that tangled web of carnal relations right now.
The reading came to an end and everyone stood up. "Please stand for our hymn, Sweet Sacrament Divine." Reverend Morris said, his voice faltering.
On the front row of pews, Jenna tilted her head at her husband's shaky delivery, wondering what was wrong with him. It wasn't like Simon to be nervous when speaking in front of an audience. Something was bothering him though. She could see a line of sweat above his upper lip and a blush on his cheeks.
After the hymn, came the ceremonial washing of feet, a reminder of how Jesus served others. As Myah sat before the vicar, her delicate hands folded in prayer, he could feel his heart race with anticipation. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, and began to wash her feet, using a soft, damp cloth to clean each toe, each inch of her soles. As his fingers brushed against her skin, he felt a surge of desire course through him, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the feel of her feet against his palms. His erection began to ache, straining against his clothing, and he fought the urge to reach down and adjust himself, lest he give anything away.
Myah seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil, content to let him tend to her with his gentle ministrations. Her breath hitched softly as he massaged a particularly tender spot on her arch, and he found himself growing bolder, wanting nothing more than to explore every inch of her feet, to lose himself in their softness and warmth. He moved his hands higher, tracing the line of her calves, feeling the muscles tense and relax under his touch.
"Are you washing feet or giving out a full sponge bath, Vicar?"
Reverend Morris was jolted back to reality and he glanced up. An impatient old woman sat next to Myah was glaring at him. "It'll be Advent before you've got round to washing all our feet."
"Umm, my apologies, Mrs. Harris, I er;"
"Stop being mean to him," Myah interrupted. "He's just being thorough. Like Jesus would've been!"
The old woman tutted. "I'm not being mean, young lady!"
The vicar's face was turning crimson, fearing that his arousal might be visible. He tried to focus on his duties, to keep his mind on the ritual, but it was becoming increasingly difficult, not to mention he was leaking precum into his underwear. The wet patch was becoming uncomfortable against his cock. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and forced his mind back to the task at hand. He finished washing her feet with a gentle pat, feeling a pang of regret as he stepped away from her.
"About time," Mrs. Harris muttered as the vicar began washing her feet. "And be careful. I've got corns!" The ninety-year old's gnarled toes were sufficient to calm the raging sea of arousal surging within him. At least until the service was over. Myah headed back to the organ, her feet feeling lovely and refreshed.
"What was that all about?" Gordon wondered, as she sat next to him on the organ stool. "Simon looks a bit flustered."
"Well I could be wrong, Gordy-Pie, but I think he's got a raging hard-on under those robes. I noticed him staring at my feet earlier. He kept trying not to, but couldn't help himself!" She giggled. "Do you think he's got a foot fetish?"
"Nah. He's done foot washing before and I don't recall him getting worked up."
"Yeah but, this is the first time he's washed my feet; or Jenna's. She didn't volunteer last year."
"Hmm, well you do have beautiful feet. I'm not into feet myself; I'm a thigh, tits and arse man, as well you know!"
"Your feet are nice too."
"Ha ha, you're just being kind, there! My size nines are ugly, hairy and sweaty."
"Organists have special feet. After pressing down on those pedals, yours must be aching."
"A bit. Perhaps you could; heal me later?" He winked at her.
The rest of the service passed without incident. Reverend Morris had never been more relieved to return to the vicarage.
"Are you okay Simon?" Jenna asked as he flopped down on the settee and fiddled with his clerical collar. "You seemed a bit uncomfortable in the church. You're not coming down with a bug are you?"
"Oh I'm absolutely fine, my love, It was a bit warm in the church. I'll have to ask Norman to adjust the radiators."
"I enjoyed the foot washing. Though not as much as you did!" She sat beside him and ran a finger across his knee. "Now Jesus being the Son of God, I reckon he was able to resist temptation when washing the feet of some nubile female disciple."
The talk of feet was getting the vicar hot and bothered again. "Um, can't say I've ever given any thought to whether Jesus had those kind of; er, urges."
"Would it have been wrong if he had?" She continued. "Not trying to be disrespectful. I'm just curious, that's all."
"Probably not, given that he died to save us from our sins." He coughed and felt his cheeks burning again.
"Simon you're blushing. Something's bothering you. Please tell me what's wrong."
"I'm not sure I can, Jen. I'm a bit ashamed of it to be honest. It's not something I've ever admitted to anyone."
She placed her hand in his. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. Please don't feel ashamed."
He took a deep breath. "Feet. I like feet, Jen. I; have a foot fetish. Ever since I was a teenager. I don't know why. Women's feet. They just float my boat. There, I said it."
"That's nothing to feel ashamed about, Simon! I think you'll find that's a really common fetish." She embraced him.
"Though I wish I'd had better self-control during that part of the service. I was as hard as rock during the foot washing; when I did yours; and your cousin's. I think she's sussed me out."
"Oh Myah wouldn't have noticed. Probably too distracted by thinking about getting her hands on Gordon's organ pipe. Besides, you had your robes on. Nobody would've suspected a thing. Right;" she continued. "I'm going to have a very quick shower. And when I come out, I expect you to be lying on the bed, feet bare, ready and waiting." She winked at him and his stomach jolted in excitement.
"You mean;"
Jenna smiled. "It's Maundy Thursday, Simon. What better time to indulge in a bit of foot worship? Now go and lie on the bed."
He immediately obeyed.
In the shower, Jenna began singing, no doubt in preparation for the big event on Easter Sunday. Reverend Morris was really looking forward to that. His church was going to be packed. Getting the Guild Voices to perform truly was a master stroke on Gordon's part. And with Jenna singing in the Guild too, well, what could go wrong? Nobody would want to attend St Peter's for Easter, even if they did have a hot organist who looked like Robert Pattinson. He started undressing and reclined on the bed. Closing his eyes, his mind drifted back to the incident in church, when Myah had been massaging her sore foot.
Five minutes later, his eyes shot open as he felt a kiss on his cheek. Jenna smirked and lay back down, deliberately pressing her breasts, warm and wet from the shower, against his chest. He let out something that was halfway between a sigh and a moan and craned his neck to meet her mouth with his. She raked her nails down his scalp. She tended to get less gentle as she grew more aroused, so this was a sure sign that she was enjoying herself just as much as she was. He grinned against her lips and placed his own hands on her hips, gripping the gentle undulations there.
Jenna was so good at multi-tasking, whilst he could only focus on one thing at a time if he was going to do it halfway well. So he concentrated on kissing her properly, on wrestling his tongue against hers.
"Simon, take your undies off," she gasped, dismounting him, her breasts bouncing as she went. It took him a couple of seconds to comply and he cast his boxers aside. "Now." She settled herself on the side of the bed, legs dangling over the edge. "On your knees."
He obeyed, unable to contain his excitement.
Jenna giggled and extended a leg. "I want you to massage my feet Reverend," she purred, sending shivers of joy through him. "You're going to massage them, and then you're going to worship them. Do you understand?"
Salivating, he nodded eagerly.
She had such pretty feet. The shape of the actual foot was perfect, the heel smooth and well cared-for, the skin of the instep soft and delicate. He longed to put his mouth all over it and his cock pulsed impatiently.
Taking her right foot, he focused on her little toe, licking along the bottom of it, then running his tongue back down the side, all the way into the little dip. Reaching the bottom, he wrapped his lips around the digit and gently sucked once again.
"Mmm."
This was sufficient encouragement for him to repeat the attentions, pressing kisses back down to her heel, his fingers kneading gently the flesh he hadn't yet reached. Then, looping back up to the top, he sucked each of the remaining toes in turn, massaging the pads with his tongue, forming his lips to the shape of Jenna's flesh, entirely lost in the sensation.
By the time he had properly attended to every part of her right foot, he realized that he had spent quite a lot of time performing his worship, crouched on the carpet on his knees, and glanced up sheepishly to assure that his wife wasn't bored.
She definitely wasn't and made a strange, strangled noise of surprise and pleasure.
"That feels amazing, Simon. Now do my other foot."
The vicar longed to touch himself. His cock ached with his arousal and neglect. But he wasn't about to leave a job unfinished, and quickly started worshipping Jenna's left foot too.
"Ooh!"
Reverend Morris began to say a prayer. "Heavenly Father, We lift up prayers of thankfulness for the example of humility that Christ has given us, as He washed His disciple's feet that night. Humbling Himself, and teaching us how to treat one another with the same humility and love. Thank You, Lord for His life. Help us to live as He did, humbly before You and others. In Jesus' name, Amen."
"Thank you for worshipping my feet, Simon," Jenna moaned. "Now you may worship the rest of me."
Even before he pushed her legs apart she made room for him. And no wonder: she was very ready, her entrance slick with her natural lubricant, her cunt pink and engorged. She had been teasing herself for some time. It was proof that she had indeed enjoyed the foot worship as much as she had claimed to, and almost as much as he had. He reached out a hand, tracing the line of Jenna's shoulder with his finger, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. Her breathing deepened, and she let out a contented sigh, as if she felt the touch even in her dreams.
"Mmm. Happy Maundy Thursday Jen," he whispered.
The air in the vicarage bedroom seemed to crackle with desire as Reverend Morris leaned in and kissed her deeply, their tongues tangling together in a dance of passion. He rolled onto his side, taking her into his arms, their naked bodies pressing tightly together. With ease, he slid his hand down between their bodies, guiding himself toward her wetness. She arched her back, meeting his touch with a moan, and he thrust forward, filling her completely. The sensation was exquisite, the connection they shared almost painfully intense. They moved together in perfect sync, their bodies writhing and twisting as if they were a single entity.
Their skin glistened with sweat, their breaths came in ragged gasps, and Reverend Morris knew that he was on the brink of his own release. He looked down at Jenna, her face flushed, her eyes clouded with pleasure, and he felt an overwhelming love and desire for her consume him. With one final thrust, he emptied himself into her, their bodies collapsing together in a tangle of limbs and sheets.
"God." was all he could utter as he and Jenna got their breaths back.
"Needed to get that out of your system didn't you, my love?" Jenna smiled, rubbing a hand across his belly. "I'm glad you told me about your little fetish. I'll keep it in mind the next time I want to surprise you!"
"So; you're okay with it then? You don't think it's weird?"
"Of course, Simon! And it's not weird. And it's 2024, not 1824. As a matter of fact, I rather like the idea of being married to a feet-loving vicar!"
He laughed. "I'm just going to pop downstairs and grab a glass of water, then I'll be straight back up to tickle your feet some more!" He slid off the bed and hurried out of the room, not bothering to put any clothes on. After all, who was going to..?
"Oh I say, Vicar!"
He froze as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his cock swinging.
Mrs. Harris, the impatient old woman who'd berated him earlier, was standing in the hallway.
"Sorry for interrupting I'm sure. But you did say yours was an open house, and I did knock. The Mother's Union have produced these biscuits ready for Easter Sunday. You did request that I bring you some. I would've handed them to you in the church, but you hurried off home so fast, I didn't get the chance!"
Poor Reverend Morris. He hadn't been this shocked since he walked in on Gladys Wilcox spanking the naked churchwarden's arse last year.
"Umm, umm, thank you very much Mrs. Harris!" He grabbed a copy of the parish magazine off a side table and tried to cover himself. "Er, so sorry about this; I was; er, in the shower!"
The stern-faced pensioner raised an eyebrow. "Quite. Well I trust you'll be more suitably attired during the Sunday service! Good day to you!"
To be continued in part 2, Based on a post by Blacksheep, for Literotica.
