Vicar's wife, Jenna, decides to give up sex for Lent!
A series in 17 parts, by Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
The Jenna series started with ‘Jenna Goes To Church’, followed shortly after with ‘Jenna, the Vicar’s Wife’. It resumed recently with Jenna’s New Year’; and now it continues with a Lentil 2-part story. Other episodes will follow.
It was the last Sunday of Shrovetide, known as Quinquagesima. At St. Michael's Church, Reverend Morris had amassed a pile of old palm crosses, intending to burn them on Ash Wednesday.
"Shouldn't be long before the first members of the faithful arrive," he said to his wife Jenna, who was adjusting the flowers at the side of the pulpit.
"Oh before I forget, I've got something for you to burn on Ash Wednesday," she smiled, handing him a pair of her panties.
"This is an unusual-looking palm cross!" He replied. "I think I'd better burn this separately from the others! Is there some reason why you want your undies reduced to ash?"
"Well Simon, I've been thinking. And I've finally decided what I'm going to give up for Lent."
"You're giving up wearing underwear?"
"Ha-ha. Tempting, but no. I'm giving up sex."
Reverend Morris almost dropped the box full of crosses. "What? Sex? No, you can't be serious!"
Jenna nodded. "I'm 100% serious, my love. Lent is supposed to be hard, and you're always going on about how part of being a good Christian is making sacrifices and so on. It's traditionally a time of fasting and abstaining from something to repent and focus our hearts and minds on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ."
"Yes, but within reason, Jen! I don't expect you to suffer hardship as bad as that!"
"I can do it, Simon. I'm committed to seeing it through. It's only forty days."
"B-but, that's six weeks!" the vicar whined, looking as if his entire world was about to end. "I, I'm not sure I can, er, go without for so long!"
"Now Simon, you're a man of God. You're stronger than most. I know you can do this. And just think how wonderful it will be when Easter comes, everything in calf, bursting out in spring glory, sap rising, mating seasons beginning, shoots thrusting upwards, days getting longer, "
"Vicars dying of horniness, " Reverend Morris sighed.
"Exactly. And it won't just be you going without. The other chaps of this church will have to go without as well!"
"Oh my goodness, Jenna. There's going to be a lot of frustration building up in this church! When you say no sex, does that mean, "
"No physical contact whatsoever, my dearest! No blowjobs, no kissing, no cock in cunt, nada! Just like social distancing."
Reverend Morris' lip was trembling. "Not even a kiss?"
"Nope. I'll be sleeping in the spare bedroom until Easter. I can blow you a kiss. And whilst we can't do anything involving physical contact, there are other naughty ways we can get through Lent."
"Like what?"
"Use your imagination, Simon!"
He thought for a moment. "So I'll have to make do with dating Rosie Palms until Easter?"
"If it helps you cope, yes!"
The reverend took a deep breath. "You're absolutely right, Jenna. I can get through this. I admire you so much for deciding to have a sex ban. In fact, I think I love you even more, and I didn't think that possible!"
"Aww. Ditto." She kissed him. "We'll make the most of Shrove Tuesday," she added, with a wink. "I'm going to do some creative things with pancakes."
He slipped his arms around her. "Remember that morning after the Candlemas service, when we got soaking wet in the rain and we just ravished each other once we got back to the vicarage?"
"Hee hee, yes. Or that time last month during that short holiday in Lincolnshire when we stayed in that weird hotel, and the ghost gatecrashed our passion?"
"Bit early in the morning for that, isn't it? Then again, I'm not complaining!" A voice shouted, and they both looked round. Gordon the organist had just arrived.
Moments later, Josh the curate appeared.
"Morning guys!" Jenna smiled. She turned back to her husband. "You'd better get your robes on. Looks like some of the congregation are here already. I'll go and hand out some hymn books."
He nodded and headed off to the vestry. "Forty days," he sighed. "God, .I will really need your help through this difficult time!"
And just how were some of the other male members of St. Michael's Church going to cope for forty days without any 'spiritual guidance' from the vicar's wife?
Shrove Tuesday (the eve of Lent)
On Shrove Tuesday, Jenna spent all afternoon mixing pancake batter. It would've been quicker to buy some ready-made pancakes from Tesco, but where was the fun in that? She looked at the kitchen wall clock.
"Come on Simon, you're late. How long does a meeting with the Bishop take?"
Her husband had been out all day. At last, she heard his car pull up on the drive.
"Good. Now the fun begins."
The front door opened and Reverend Morris came rushing in. "Sorry I've been so long. Bishop George kept prattling on for ages and then coming back home there's been a road accident so I had to take the long way home, oh I see you've been busy!" He noticed his wife was completely naked except for an apron.
"Welcome home," she smirked. "It's time to flip some pancakes. Is my randy reverend able to provide some batter?"
He licked his lips. "What sort of batter would you be requiring?"
"Hmm, let's see. That special 'anointing oil' you used during my 21st birthday?" She whirled a frying pan in her hand and flipped a pancake. "Here's one I prepared earlier."
His hands found her shoulders, and turned her to face him. His hands moved up to cup her face and Jenna felt his lips close around hers in a tender kiss. She returned it with rising passion, slipping her tongue into his mouth. As their tongues danced, Jenna quickly unfastened her apron, letting it slide down over her smooth skin to the kitchen floor.
She could hear Reverend Morris unfastening his own garments, and when he embraced her tightly, she felt his bare skin press against hers with delicious warmth. Her husband's mouth left her lips, trailing down her neck to her chest. He took a nipple in his mouth and teased the erect tip. It was perhaps the upcoming sex ban enhancing his senses, but Jenna's breasts had never felt so full, and had never tasted so sweet. His hands roamed down over her arse, savoring her curves.
Reverend Morris moved back up her body, his lips playing over her breasts, then back up her neck. Jenna's hands slid down his chest and at last reached their goal. She gripped his throbbing member, took a few steps backward, pulling gently but firmly, and he promptly followed her. She felt the edge of the kitchen countertop meet her lower back, and she swiftly heaved herself on to the cool granite surface and lay back, spreading her legs.
Reverend Morris had a sudden urge to taste his wife; his tongue met with her soft skin just above her clit, then down into her folds, tasting, discovering and exploring all that she had to offer. He began to suck and lick her clit. How he loved to worship at this altar.
Jenna reached for the bowl of pancake batter. A wooden spoon was sticking out of the bowl. Without hesitation, she began spooning the batter down her breasts.
"It tastes alright," she murmured, placing a blob of batter on her husband's nose. "But it needs an extra ingredient, "
"Umm, I think I can help you there."
"Fuck me religiously, darling." Jenna said hoarsely.
A pair of strong, silky legs wrapped around the vicar's arse. He lowered himself onto her and felt those glorious batter-coated breasts rub against his chest as he began thrusting into her. He tried to set a steady, leisurely pace to begin, but the legs around him urged him on faster and harder. Reverend Morris responded with enthusiasm, and within moments he was pounding into his wife with all his strength, mindful that after tonight he wouldn't be able to do this for six weeks.
"Yes, yes, oh my God yes, I've never felt anything like it!" Jenna moaned.
"Bloody hell, I'm coming, oh Jenna!" Reverend Morris yelled as his stream of hot cum filled up her cunt and flowed back out onto the kitchen countertop.
Jenna lay back on the countertop, eyes closed. It was several minutes before her breathing had calmed enough for her to speak.
"Did I provide enough batter?" Reverend Morris asked.
"Your holy offering was more than generous!"
"Forty days without from this moment on. You've still time to change your mind."
"I'm sticking to it, Simon. We'll get through Lent. We'll have to think up some creative contactless ways to get our rocks off."
The smell of burning interrupted them. They both glanced at the stove. To Jenna's dismay, the pancake she'd been cooking had been virtually cremated in the frying pan.
"Oh dear," she said, gazing at the remains of the pancake, which now resembled a lump of coal.
"Now that's what I call a perfect burnt offering for Ash Wednesday!" Reverend Morris replied.
The Organist is Entertained.
Gordon Leesmith always looked forward to Thursday evening arriving. This was when he had organ practice at church, and for the past few months he'd been teaching Jenna to play the organ. These lessons were really just an excuse for a passionate romp with the stunning vicar's wife, who was always more than willing to get her hands on the organ in his trousers, rather than the church one.
Gordon hummed to himself as he brewed himself a cup of tea. He checked the time. It was only just after midday. Six hours to go. He was impatient and horny, but in a very happy mood. He'd just returned from seeing his Primary Care physician. That in itself something of a miracle in modern Britain; and received good news. His benign prostate enlargement wasn't as bad as he'd feared. Despite being a bit overweight, the doctor had given him a clean bill of health. His blood pressure was low, and so was his cholesterol.
Today was his birthday. He was fifty six. A year ago, Gordon had been a miserable, short-tempered man who didn't endear himself to anyone else in the church. Long-divorced, impotent and frustrated with being alone for so long, his life had turned upside down when a young woman by the name of Jenna Fox had started attending St. Michael's Church. A few months later, she'd turned her attentions to flirting with him. Never in a million years did Gordon think he'd end up getting his cock sucked by a stunning redhead whilst he sat on the organ stool.
As Gordon sipped his tea, his phone vibrated.
"Oh, an email from Jenna," he smiled, checking the message.
Happy Birthday Gordon! About tonight. I'm afraid I can't make tonight's organ practice. I won't be able to until Easter arrives. Thing is, I've chosen to give up sex for Lent. I know you won't to hear this and it's going to be so hard for me to stick to this, but you've got to test yourself and set a challenge, right? It's what being a Christian is all about. I truly hope you'll understand. But - that doesn't mean we can't still have some fun! Make sure you visit the church - I've left a birthday present for you on the organ stool, trust me, it'll see you through this hard time. And when Easter comes, Jesus won't be the only person that rises, wink wink. It'll be worth the wait, keep your organ pipe warm for me.
Love Jenna. xxx
"She's abstaining from sex?" Gordon almost dropped his cup of tea. "Wait, what? Oh no! This is a nightmare! I won't be able to have a fuck for six weeks? Bloody hell! I'll go round the bend, I can't even call on Yulia's mate Martika anymore. Damn it, why did she have to bugger off back to Ukraine?"
He wasn't sure whether to scream or burst into tears, but after he overcame the initial shock, he took a deep breath and composed himself.
"Well if she's gone on strike that means the vicar, the churchwarden, the curate and the bishop won't be getting any cunt either. Ha! Misery loves company, as the old saying goes. Gordon suddenly felt much better, knowing he wasn't the only one being denied the pleasure. Still, six weeks, God, this was going to be a struggle.
"Hmm, oh well. I've endured worse. I once had to endure that ‘Brotherhood of Man’ tribute act in Skegness. I wonder what Jenna's got me for my birthday?"
He picked up his car keys. There was only one way to find out.
When Gordon arrived at the church, he discovered that the door was unlocked. Usually he had the place to himself, and he was thankful for that, given the sort of "organ practice" he liked to engage in with Jenna. Cautiously, he entered the church. The sound of a vacuum cleaner could be heard. Mrs. Wilcox, one of the many "old church biddies" as Gordon secretly called them, was busy cleaning up the aisle. Noticing the organist approaching, the slightly-built pensioner switched off the vacuum.
"Ah, hello Gordon! Are you here to tickle the ivories? I'm just finishing off here and then I'll be out of your way." It wasn’t at all fair to describe Gladys as an ‘old biddy’. She kept herself fit and classy, and besides the rotation of sanctuary cleaning which she took part, she also headed up an outreach to single mothers in the community.
"Hello Gladys. No need to stop on my account. I usually come here in the evening, but, er, change of plans. You know, you really should lock yourself in when you're here by yourself. You know what it's like these days. Quite a few crackheads and drunks hang around the churchyard, some can be intimidating."
The old woman rolled her eyes. "Oh they don't concern me, dearie. I carry a small can of mace in my apron pocket. My grandson Dwaine bought it for me online. He'll be arriving soon to give me a lift home."
Gordon raised an eyebrow. "Blimey. There's more to you than meets the eye. Is that stuff even legal?"
"Maybe not, but you won't rat on an oldie, will you?" She looked back over her shoulder at him, then winked.
Gordon laughed. "My lips are sealed, Gladys."
Gordon’s Lentil Gift From Jenna
He hurried to the organ. "Crafty old gal," he said to himself. On the stool was a red gift bag. "Ah, this must be Jenna's little present for me," he said sitting down on the stool and opening the bag. A large red envelope and something wrapped in pink tissue paper were inside. He opened the envelope, and pulled out a birthday card. Inside, Jenna had written a little rhyme.
Organists are sexy
None more than you
Open your present
It'll help you get through!
Xxxx
"Ha-ha," Gordon chuckled. "Well whatever is this present?" He began tearing off the tissue paper. "What's this? A torch?" He held up the plastic object, then removed the cap on the end. "Bloody hell. She's bought me one of those fleshlight sex toys!" He peered closely at the silicone vagina. "Nice cunt lips, even if they are artificial, oh wait, there's a piece of paper stuffed inside." He pulled out the note.
Hello Gordon. I had this specially made for you. Now you can still put your organ pipe inside me all through Lent! P S - don't forget to use the lube!
"Wow, she had a cast of her own cunt made just for me! What a great birthday present! Last year all I got was a pair of slippers from my cousin." He noticed the small bottle of clear lube in the bottom of the gift bag, but didn't pay much attention to it, being too distracted by the sex toy. His erection was straining painfully against his underpants and trousers. Despite Mrs. Wilcox still busily vacuuming the pew cushions, Gordon unzipped and pulled out his cock. He peered over the top of the organ. The old girl had her back to him and besides, you had to walk round to the side of the organ to see anything. He was safely concealed behind the instrument. She wouldn't notice him having a quick wank,
"Never used a sex toy before," he muttered to himself, sticking a finger into the fleshlight. "First time for everything though. It feels really tight, let's give it a go." He attempted to slide his cock inside.
"God, this is really tight, oof!" He managed to slide his cock halfway in, but instantly regretted it.
"Bit too tight, ouch!" He tried to pull out, but his cock was fully stuck inside the toy.
The realization hit him. "Shit. I should've used the lube."
Gordon bit his lip, as he tried to ease the thing off this manhood, but to no avail.
"Oh no."
Gladys the paramedic
Mrs. Wilcox switched off the vacuum cleaner and glanced round. She could just see the top of Gordon's head. The organ was completely silent.
"Is he playing with the volume turned down?" She wondered.
Gordon was starting to panic. If he didn't get this toy off soon, things could become embarrassing. He didn't want to have to drive up to an emergency medical center to get it removed.
"Come off, damn you, come off!" He grunted.
"Having problems, dearie?" Mrs. Wilcox said, appearing at the side of the organ. "Oh my!"
Gordon looked mortified. "Um, hello Gladys," he mumbled. "I've got a bit of a problem."
"I can see that, you silly boy. What on earth have you been doing? I trust that's not an outsized organ stop?"
The organist blushed crimson. "Er, no. It's not. It's a, look, it's got stuck. I can't get it off my, thing."
"Let's have a look." Before he could protest, she grabbed the fleshlight and pulled on it.
"Oww!" Gordon yelled. "Don't yank it like that, Gladys! I don't want to end up like John Wayne Bobbitt!"
"Needs some lubricant or something. That should help. When I was a child, I got my father's chamber pot stuck on my head. Mother used lard to get it off."
"There's a bottle of lube in that bag," Gordon winced, as his cock started to hurt.
Mrs. Wilcox wasted no time, and squirted a generous amount of the clear gel on her hands, before smearing some round the base of Gordon's cock. He gave an awkward cough as her gnarled old fingers probed around his privates. He'd never be able to look this eighty-something woman in the eye again during a church service. Going to A & E would be more embarrassing, he kept telling himself. Then again, perhaps not!
"Alright, let’s try easing if off. Nice and slow." Mrs. Wilcox gripped the base of his cock, and with her left hand began to gently pull the fleshlight. It began to slide off. "That's it! It's coming off now! Gently does it!"
"Almost," Gordon said, gritting his teeth.
She continued to pull and finally, the toy slid off, with a popping sound.
"There we are! Pop goes the weasel!" Mrs. Wilcox smiled. She handed him the offending toy.
"Thanks so much," Gordon gasped, relieved that his cock hadn't come to any serious harm.
"What a big, thick willy you've got!" Mrs. Wilcox replied. "No wonder that thing got stuck!"
"Er, thanks," Gordon mumbled, feeling more embarrassed than ever.
"No need to be shy, dearie. A man who is blessed like you shouldn't hide his light under a bushel, no! It's so much bigger than my late husband's was. Dear old Bert, he used to love it when I played with his willy. Of course that was over twenty years ago. I wish I could give yours a proper sucking, but I'd have to remove my dentures, and I've used the Poligrip, "
The mention of dentures being removed was almost sufficient to make Gordon lose his erection. He was about to say something, but she continued.
"On the other hand, an opportunity like this doesn't come my way very often! You don't mind letting an old lady have a little bit of fun before she ends up down the cemetery or in a nursing home do you, Gordon? I'm eighty-six. My mouth is pretty much all that works these days, so that will have to do. Think of it as my reward for rescuing your phallic treasure." She dragged over a nearby kneeling bench, knelt, and motioned for Gordon to step to offer her some ‘communion’.
He hadn't the heart to say no. "Um, you go ahead, Gladys." Gordon closed his eyes as she removed her false teeth. He hadn't planned on getting a gum-job from a granny. He presented His cock on the padded velvet counter of her communion kneeler. She gasped in marvel at the glorious treat laying near her covered breasts. Then took his shaft slowly in one hand, and cupped his balls with her other hand. Her eye’s sparkled as she beheld the phallus. And then her mouth engulfed his cock.
Grasping the base of the shaft, Mrs. Wilcox took the organist's throbbing cock in her mouth and started to move her head back and forth, taking it deeper and deeper.
"Oh," Gordon sighed. He leaned back, gripping the sides of the organ stool and enjoyed the wonderful sensations as she sucked his manhood. She was good, no, she was very good! This was better than he ever could've imagined. The white-haired pensioner's head continued bobbing up and down on Gordon's cock, tasting some of the pre-cum.
"Oh yes!" He gasped. God, it felt so good!
She withdrew and licked the tip of his cock, swirling around the purple head, as her fingers softly stroked the shaft. Her old skills began to come back to her. Her head and lips moved in an erotic performance. Her tongue provided a private performance that only his cock would ever experience. And the sultry ora she exuded was masterful. This woman was a sex god that only her husband ever worshipped. And now, Gordon was added to that exclusive clan of devotees.
"Gladys, I'm going to come," Gordon panted. "Uh!"
"Then fire away, dearie! I'd love a taste!" She felt him tense and then he climaxed. With that, he filled her mouth with streams of his thick, sticky cum as it spurted to the back of her throat. Mrs. Wilcox slurped and swallowed it all. Then she pressed her nose hard against his pelvice, and his thick meat pressed her larynx.
As his final spurts tapered off, she very slowly pulled her head back, until his cock flopped down on the velvet padding where Gladys’ grandchildren receieved their first holy Eucarist. "Umm, tastes just as good as I remember! There we go, Gordon. I'm sure you feel better now that you've emptied your plums!" She patted his cock, before lovingly tucking it back into his briefs and trousers and zipping him up. "You know something, a fine young man like you could easily pull a lady. Why, I bet there's loads of ladies who'd jump at the chance to get their hands on you! You're such a talented organist too, and you've been divorced a long time. Oh, If I were thirty years younger."
Young? She thinks I'm young? I suppose to an octogenarian, fifty-six is young.
"Oh, I don't want to get married again," Gordon replied, wiping his brow. "I'd prefer something, casual." He cleared his throat. "Thanks for, helping me Gladys!"
"Well we're all good Christians here, yes? We should help each other!" Gladys looked at where she was kneeling. “Did you know, Gordon; The Greek word for communion is ‘koinonia’. It’s also the Greek word for ‘intercourse’? I’ll always cherish this special treat you’ve shared with me.”
The door of the church opened and a hulking, six-foot young man came strolling in. He was covered in tattoos and obviously a regular visitor to the gym, as his massive upper arms and shoulders proved. The man looked like he could break necks merely by flicking his finger.
"Gran, are you here?"
Gordon froze in horror as he peered over the top of the organ. "Who the hell's that?" The man resembled Lewis Hamilton bulked up on steroids.
"Oh that'll be Dwaine, my grandson," Mrs. Wilcox replied. "Be with you in a minute, sweetie!" She called out. "I've just been helping Gordon to polish his organ!"
A Sermon That’s More Stimulating Than Usual.
Reverend Morris was struggling to write his sermon. It was only the second week of Lent, but he was finding this one harder than he ever imagined. The sex ban that his wife had imposed was starting to bite. Jenna seemed to be coping much better than him, and he felt ashamed at his weakness.
"Help me to be strong, Lord!"
Suddenly, his phone beeped. A message from Jenna.
Hello Simon. It's lunch break here at work. I figured you're still home alone and maybe feeling a bit, stressed? Why not look up Write-Erotica for some inspiration?
She added a winking emoji
"Write-Erotica? What's that?" the vicar wondered. He eagerly opened the laptop's browser. "A site for writers of erotic fiction? Hmm. I've never heard of this before. I'm always years behind everyone else, when it comes to things. Okay, let's have a browse. I wonder if there are any naughty fictions about clergy on here?"
Reverend Morris soon discovered that the tags for "priest" "vicar" and "church sex" brought up a massive number of results. He was spoilt for choice and clicked on several stories. Some were much-better written than others.
"Jessica and Father Andrew broke the kiss, a trail of saliva still connecting their lips together. Their mouths were still so close to each other. Jessica let out a small breath as the priest grabbed her tight little ass. "You can go inside, if you want," she told him, then she pressed her lips on his mouth again and soon enough Father Andrew's tongue was in her mouth now, not that she minded at all. They had to be very quiet because they were in the confessional booth,"
Reverend Morris read out loud.
"But the church was empty, so why did they need to be quiet? Eh, I'm just nit picking. This is a pretty hot story!" Feeling himself getting hard, Reverend Morris unzipped his trousers and slipped a hand inside, pulling out his cock. As he continued to read, he started jacking his cock slowly.
Jessica unzipped the priest's pants, ‘oh yes,’ he said. He began to moan and groan as he continued pleasuring himself.
Her sweet, heavenly lips worshipped his holy shaft in ways he never imagined,
It felt so wonderful jerking his throbbing cock whilst reading this erotic fic. Reverend Morris began to move his hips around and his legs straightened out under the desk. Soon he laid his head back and stretched his body further. Next thing he know, he let out a rather loud, "Oh, yes, yes that's it!" and started to cum.
His milky fluid spurted out and all over his laptop keyboard.
"Ah,"
Write-Erotica had done its work and provided Reverend Morris with some much-needed relief, as well as inspiration.
"I still don't know what to write about for my sermon, but I'd love to have a go at writing an erotic story just for Jenna," he smiled, getting some wet wipes and cleaning up his keyboard. "I've never tried writing erotica before, but first time for everything! Maybe we could write a chain story or something, and get it finished just before Easter? That could be fun!"
Excited by this new idea, the vicar opened a new Word document and began typing away.
"I'll just write a few paragraphs of smut and then I must finish my sermon!"
At the Sunday Eucharist,
Reverend Morris was joined by another vicar, who was standing in for Josh the curate, who was attending a conference in Birmingham, as part of his ongoing religious training.
"A very warm welcome to everyone this morning," Reverend Morris began, addressing the congregation. "As we continue our journey through Lent, I'd like to introduce Reverend Jones from St. Wilfrid's church in Manchester. It's a great honor for her to be here today - she'll be reading the sermon I've been laboring over all week,"
"Poor woman," someone in the congregation muttered, leading to some muffled sniggers.
While the vicar was talking, Gordon was idly peering over the top of the organ. He noticed Jenna sat in the front pew and winked at her. Moments later, Mrs. Wilcox, who was sat next to her, winked back at him and gave him a little wave. Gordon gave an awkward smile and shrunk back behind the organ,
"Without further ado, I shall now hand over to Reverend Jones," Reverend Morris said.
The vicar of St. Wilfrid's was a dumpy, bespectacled woman, aged about fifty, with grey hair in a bowl cut.
"Looks like the identical twin of that MP woman," an old man muttered. "What's her name? Therese, something. She's the secretary of state."
"No idea," another old man replied. "Oh wait a minute! I know who you mean. Norman Lamont! I thought those eyebrows looked familiar,"
"No you daft git, he's a bloke!"
"That vicar looks like a lass to me. Mind you, one can't tell these days,"
Reverend Jones stepped up to the pulpit and placed some papers on the book stand.
"I haven't had a sneak-peek at this sermon," she began. "So it will be a wonderful surprise for me as well as you. I'm sure Reverend Morris has gone the extra mile, as he usually does, and written something that'll make us all think."
Reverend Morris gave a proud smile as he looked up at her.
Gordon gave a subtle yawn. He always dreaded this part of the service. Reverend Morris had the ability to cure insomnia with his sermons, despite Jenna's best efforts to inject a bit more fun into them,
"They say the Devil makes work for idle hands," Reverend Jones said, as she began reading the sermon. "That's a phrase we're all familiar with. This morning, I woke up, and my hands were rotting in idleness. My mind had been drifting to places, sinful places all week. I wouldn't say I'm a regular user of PornHub but," she paused.
A look of horror appeared on Reverend Morris' face. "That isn't my sermon," he said to himself. "Oh no,"
In the pews, there were a couple of awkward coughs and raised eyebrows. At the organ, Gordon suddenly perked up. This had to be the first time ever that the word PornHub was mentioned in a sermon!
"The site just wasn't doing it for me," Reverend Jones continued, "so I decided to go for a walk in the park. I can't tell you how my spirits were instantly lifted. Light was filtering through the trees. It was golden and bright. How blessed we are that God has made all this for us, I thought, and then something in the bushes caught my eye. There was no-one else around. It was then that I saw her, naked as Eve in the Garden of Eden, about to take a dip in the lake. Her sweetly, up-tilted bare breasts reflected the glorious morning aura and her rose-pink nipples were as full and hard as ripe apples,"
Reverend Jones paused. "What an excellent use of adjectives. I'm sure we can just imagine this scene in our heads can't we?"
Never had the congregation of St, Michael's been so engrossed by a sermon before!
"Not half," someone said out loud.
Poor Reverend Morris' face had flooded several shades of red. He stood up and hurried to the pulpit.
"Angela, that's not the sermon I wrote!" He mumbled, begging her to stop.
"I've started, so I'll finish," she replied. "Everyone seems to be enjoying this."
"Her name was Giselle, and she loved to unburden herself and swim in the lake. Freed from her clothes, I watched her in the nude and was convinced I was seeing the embodiment of an angel. She knew I watching, and she knew I liked to watch. I knew she liked me to watch, but this morning, we decided to do more than watch."
"How romantic," Mrs. Wilcox said, turning to Jenna. "Your husband has a fine turn of phrase. It's better than his usual sermons, dearie. You should encourage him to write more like this. This church will soon be packed to the rafters if he keeps this up!"
"Oh, thanks very much!" Jenna replied innocently. She gazed at poor Reverend Morris, who was squirming with embarrassment at the side of the pulpit. He'd mixed up his sermon with some erotic fic, did he write the fic himself or find it online? She was curious to find out.
"What could be more divine than seeing a beautiful woman naked in a park?" Reverend Jones continued, reading out the story without a care in the world. "Personally, I think Tom Hiddleston naked in a park would be more divine, but that's just my opinion, "
"I shouldn't say such things as I'm in a church, but I wouldn't mind seeing the organist naked," Mrs. Wilcox whispered to Jenna, who did a double take. This was one of those rare occasions when even she was left speechless for a few moments!
"Really Gladys! You dark horse. Didn't know you had the hots for Gordon!"
"Just because there's snow on the roof, doesn't mean the fire's gone out!" the old lady replied.
"Oh this next paragraph has been all scribbled out," Reverend Jones said. She flipped the page over.
"My pearly-white ejaculate looked perfect dripping off her pink-nosed puppies. I got some on my hand and remember being surprised that it was so hot. I pulled my cassock off and wiped the cum off my hand with it. I walked home that night with a huge smile on my face and love bites on my little reverend."
Reverend Morris snatched the papers off the book stand. "Er, my sincere apologies everyone, I made a terrible mistake!"
"Such a shame, it was building up to a nice conclusion," Reverend Jones said.
"No, that wasn't my sermon at all. I, I have no idea how that piece of writing ended up mixed up with my church papers!"
"Dat some good shit right there, Vicar!" Tony the reformed drug addict said, standing up and clapping.
The flustered vicar attempted to move on. "Hymn, let's all stand for the hymn! Lo, He Comes With Clouds Descending!"
"You know something Simon," Reverend Jones said as she headed down the pulpit steps, "you need to get yourself signed up to an adult fiction site. You have talent. I'm on A o 3 myself - under a pseudonym of course. I like writing slash fanfiction about British politicians, I can send you a link if you're interested in reading them?"
"Er, no thanks, Angela. I'm sure they're very good, but I prefer to avoid anything relating to politics!"
To be continued in part 2.
By Blacksheep, for Literotica.
