The Vicar of St. Dunstan's Ep. 24

Others came by to say their farewells, drifting off piecemeal. Kieran gave me a hug that almost caved in my ribs, and Mary kissed me sweetly on the cheek. The gleam in her eye told me that her world was back in balance again, and Kieran was already displaying more self-confidence. Little Alfred played coy with his goodbyes; he surely didn't understand what was happening. After they all left, I wept like a baby.

The next day was a warm Thursday morning, the first of September, when Betsy and Bea Birkitt sat on the couch in my study. They wore matching Arsenal t-shirts stretched tightly over their ripening breasts, shorts that were well filled by apple-round, firm bottoms and sandaled feet displayed the same pattern of five different bright colors of their fingernails. Four dancing blue eyes looked at me expectantly, their red lips wet and their breathing heavy. I sat behind my desk and admired the scene, making them wait in silence even though I knew exactly what they wanted. Sitting back in my chair, I steepled my hands and waited for them to start talking.

Finally, Beatrice blurted out: "Today's our birthday, Vicar."

"Congratulations, girls. How old are you?"

"You know very well how old we are, Father. We're eighteen," Betsy snapped irritably. I sat placidly as she realized her gaffe, blushed and leaned away, momentarily humbled.

"Happy birthday, girls. May you be blessed with many more." Bea's toes started dancing nervously, and her hands began squeezing each other furtively. I crossed my legs and took a sip from my coffee mug.

"Gran said she talked with you," Bea continued.

"Yes, your Grandmother and I have talked many times over the years. Is there anything in particular you're referring to?"

Bea's eyes took on a pleading look, while Betsy struggled to regain her composure, frightened to say anything. "Well, it was about the, the, the favor you did Jenny and Agnes."

I started at a corner of the ceiling, and spun my right foot in leisurely circles as I stalled. "Hmm, I think I've done a few things for both Jenny and Agnes over the years that could be considered favors. Could you be more specific?"

Betsy's head snapped up. "Vicar, Gran asked you if you'd take our cherries."

Looking around casually, I replied: "Do you have some in your purses? Or did you put them in the kitchen?"

Bea sighed in exasperation. "We're virgins, Father, and we want you to take our virginity, just like you took Jenny and Agnes." Her chest was heaving, her fingers knotted themselves. Betsy looked like she was about to pounce like hungry tiger.

"We want you to give us a good fucking, Vic. Gran said you promised her," Betsy continued, almost snarling. "Time's running out. I've wanted to jump your bones since my boobs started growing, and I pretend my dildo is your cock every time I wank myself. Do I have to get down on my knees and beg, or what?" Bea nodded in agreement, squeezing her thighs together and rubbing her legs.

They sat at the edge of the couch like dogs straining their leashes, their foreheads were damp and spots were developing in the armpits. Four eyes consumed with lust devoured me as I sat calmly before them; four hands grabbed the fabric of the seat cushions, squeezing hard in anticipation.

"Well, we'll have to talk about this, discuss what each of you wants specifically, coordinate our schedules. . ."

"Are ya busy right now?" Bea breathed huskily.

"Any plans for the rest of the day?" Betsy continued

I made a show of turning to look at my clear desktop beside me, where my diary lay. Opening it slowly, I traced my finger up and down the page, which was completely empty. I knew Agnes, Jenny and Derrick and many others were helping their Grandmother Mary Sterns move the twins' Grandmother Mavis to Scotland, and would be packing all day before pausing for these girls' Birthday Party. Their Grandfather Harry had taken their brother Freddie to the track; Keiran was spending the day with his mother; Percy and Peggy Witson were expecting the birth of their third child any moment; Stan and Doris Dover were on holiday in Torquay. Artie Farnsworth was covering St. Dunstan's emergency calls, and his secretary assured me earlier that morning that he was in his study and on the job. It looked to be a quiet day around the Vicarage, the day before departure.

Gazing at the ceiling for several moments, I pondered before I replied: "The diary looks empty today, but. . ." The girls flew across the room and pounced on me: Bea flung her arms around my neck and kissed me so hard it almost hurt, her tongue pushing between my lips to seek mine; Betsy frantically unbuckled my trousers, undid them and pulled them down to the floor, then she pulled down my briefs and sucked my soft protrusion into the wet, swirling vortex of her mouth. Betsy's hand went to my scrotum, where it softly cupped, stroking and caressed my oysters while my erection stiffened quickly between her eager lips. Reaching out with both hands, I caressed their luscious bottoms, played with their crevasses, and stroked as they wiggled gladly against my palms.

After about thirty seconds, Bea tapped Betsy's shoulder, pulled her mouth off mine, and shouted: "Switch." Betsy reluctantly pulled off and came up to suck my lips while her sister moved down to engulf my member. Bea's mouth was gentle, her suction soft and velvet while her tongue glided like a butterfly over my corona. Her fingers traced the lines of my scrotum, tickling the sensitive spot between my testicles. Betsy sucked my tongue into her mouth and swirled hers around it frantically. Their buttocks were still wiggling gleefully against my hands, and I savored the sensory overload for the next thirty seconds.

They changed again, Betsy doing her best to inhale more and more of my manhood while Bea tickled my tongue with hers and softly tweaked my nipples. Four inches out of nine was the best Betsy could do in thirty seconds, her tongue swirling madly as I almost came out of her mouth. The electricity was building in my batteries, and I felt close when time was up again.

This was a game, obviously: whoever made me ejaculate in her mouth would go first. I determined to last as long as I could, make them work for it. Bea was deep throating me, and the last two strokes of her shift found her nose hitting my short hairs. When they switched, Betsy moved down on my cock while Bea's tender lips moved down the shaft to my jewels. After thirty seconds of extreme bliss they switched again, one girl working down my shaft as the other worked up, and this repeated. My consciousness drifted, the growing tension between my legs a delicious magic I didn't want to part with, but the moment arrived when my discipline could hold out no longer.

It was the strongest orgasm I ever had. Pulse after pulse filled her mouth and overflowed down, where another hungry tongue caressed it. Lost in time and space, riding the winds, I flew through the clouds, impregnating them so they could shower the earth. At last the waves grew shallower and fainter, until I was released, spent and relaxed while a duet of warm tongues sought every remembrance of my ecstasy.

"I win," Betsy crowed. "I go first. Now, this is how I want to do it. . ."

Forty five minutes later, we were in the bedroom of the ground floor guest suite where my parents stayed during their recent visit. It felt strange to spend my last two days in different quarters, but the timing of the switch made it the easiest way, and a good transition. George and Rachel could start moving into my quarters before they spent the night on Friday, the next night, with my relocation. They were spending the day with their daughter Molly in Paris, the deep breath before the plunge, as he put it.

Betsy was on the bed with the covers pulled back, naked with her hands tied underneath her. Bea knelt on the old prie-dieu, her hands bound behind her back. I made sure the curtains were drawn on the two windows, then undressed myself. Four rapt eyes followed me as I approached Betsy on the bed; she licked her lips in anticipation. "Take the brush and do me, Vic," she whispered, "rub it all over me. I love the way it tickles my skin."

I took the bottle brush from the bed beside her, and began to wave it over her, making incidental contact. She sighed and I brushed her torso gently up and down between her breasts, working down to her navel and up to her throat. The brush left faint red trails that disappeared almost immediately. After tickling her throat and ears, it rolled up and down her right breast, spinning slowly on her stiff bud before moving on.

"More, Father, more," she murmured, her eyes closed, and I rolled the spiky phallus shaped brush on her left breast, scratching circles around her big nipple, two inches across. The nipple erected harder and her body arched up to meet its stimulation. The brush caressed her whole body more ardently, and she wiggled her hips to get it to pay attention to her pelvis. It traversed her left thigh; her legs opened wider to encourage it higher, and it went from one knee to another, leaving reminders of its passage.

Her labia were slick with ardor, and the brush teased the folds. She pressed her pelvis against it, and it tried to push its gentle way inside her. I kept its touch as light as I could, but she rubbed against it greedily, the stiff bristles irritating and stimulating her. "Ooo, it feels just like the electric toothbrush I use down there," she moaned. "Ahhh, more!"

Taking away the brush, the middle finger of my left hand sought her sweetness, which sucked it in gladly. Another finger joined it, which my right hand settled on her left breast, caressing, rolling, tweaking the nipple. Her breathing increased as I probed her vagina and milked her nipple, twisting it slightly. "Now, Vicar, now. Put it in, I'm ready. Fuck me now for the first time."

Getting between her knees, I guided my manhood in its quest of deflowerment. Her virgin slit accepted the head, devouring it as eagerly as her mouth did, and about three inches. There was a resistance, a tension, a passing pain and a parting that led to bliss that filled her oval face and turned her body into an ember radiating sweet warmth. The flames built quickly until the firebursts began, sending her body riding waves of delight for several moments. I held myself inside her until they passed, withdrawing as her breathing became more regular, kneading her ample breasts as she came back to reality. Finally opening her eyes, she purred: "It was better than I imagined."

A noise just outside the window caught my attention, and I peeking through the curtains that looked at the stone wall of the Church. Mavis Hazelton, the twins' Grandmother was there, grinning inanely. She wore a blue wrap around dress, and her dark hair was tied in a bun. Her body was chubby, and her huge breasts were straining their confinement: I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra. Her joy turned to surprise as I caught her, and beckoning with my finger, she turned to come inside.

Mavis entered the room and closed the door behind her. "Who said you could be here today?" I asked harshly.

"I didn't see any harm. Sheila was here when you did her Jenny, and Mary was there when you did her Agnes."

"But we didn't specifically agree you should be here today, did we?"

"No," came the meek reply.

"Did she tell you she was going to be here, girls?"

"No."

"No."

"What about the people packing you up to move?"

"I told them the twins got arrested."

"That's easy to believe," I quipped. "For all I know, Harry's running a pool for who gets it first." Mavis stood there meekly, while the girls grew anxious.

I crossed my arms and pondered, my hand on my chin. "Then if you're breaking your word, I guess you should be punished." Mavis' dismay changed to desire: she adored punishment, and was probably hoping to be part of this last dance before I left. Many times in the past three years I made her orgasm by abusing her huge melons, but there wasn't a lot of resources due to my incipient move.

"You wouldn't happen to have a bit of rope, would you Mavis?" I asked. Mine was already out the door.

She smiled and giggled like a school girl. "No. There may be something around here that might serve. Perhaps in the sacristry?"

Mavis took off her blue dress, revealing her medium sized, chubby frame. Her bra came off, and her massive breasts flopped toward the floor: basketball sized with nipples seven inches wide. There wasn't much to tie her to left in the room; I didn't intend to release the girls until I was done with both of them as per their request. An inspiration: the wardrobe faced the room and it held a minimum of hanging clothes which were destined for my suitcase before the wedding next week. There was enough room for her to stand under the clothes rod and enough room to access what I needed. I used a couple of old ties I intended to discard to fix her hands to the rod.

"Be right back," I chirped, and strode to the kitchen to rummage around. While I was there, I cleaned up a little bit to refresh myself, but there was nothing that suggested itself for Mavis' request. Taking a gamble, I traversed the passageway that led from the back Vicarage hallway to the Sacristry stark naked, and found some ropes we used to reserve pews for special occasions. "This should do the trick," I said to myself. Returning, I found the women as I left them, Bea shaking in anticipation.

After tying Mavis' hands above her head around the solid clothes rod, I began a Japanese tie I'd seen on the Internet. The girls watched as I bound their Grandmother's breasts; Bea whispered: "You can do that to me when you're done." I finished quickly despite some awkward reaching around Mavis, and her breasts began to rise and stick out proudly in their confinement. Feeling impish, I put one of my dirty socks in Mavis' mouth to gag her; she could rattle on forever if her mouth wasn't occupied.

"Tie my tits up too, Vic, tie my tits up too," Betsy pleaded. The ropes looked like they worked well enough; I stepped back to watch Mavis' sweet monstrous globes start to bulge and turn light red.

"We can only do so much today, girls, and I don't have anything else do this with," I said sadly, "you'll have to try it another time. We still have a party to go to later today, and you'll want to freshen up, I'm sure. Your Gran can teach you what it's like so you can try it with someone you love." Turning to her sister, I noticed that the pulley to the curtain was next to her right foot. "I wonder who pulled the curtain open so she could look in here."

Bea looked down and blushed slightly. Her foot was close enough that she could raise it and pull the cord with her toes. Making sure the curtain was drawn, I went to where I left my clothes and pulled my thick leather belt from my jeans. "I think someone has just given me a reason to give her a birthday spanking."

"Oh yes, whip her ass good, Vicar, the little snitch," Betsy called out.. "She deserves it." Mavis looked at me with big eyes and nodded her head eagerly. I cracked the belt over the bed next to Betsy, startling her.

Coming over to Bea's head, I bent over and looked her in the face. "Have you been a bad girl?"

"Yes," she said in a high, distant voice.

"Do you know what bad girls deserve?"

"They deserve to be spanked," She faked a pout very well, but her toes were dancing in anticipation, her hips switching and twitching.

"Do you think I should spank you?"

"Yes, Vicar," she said in a husky voice, "I deserve to have my bare butt spanked well."

I held the leather in front of her face. "Kiss it," I ordered. She pursued her lips to kiss the implement of her punishment, then she opened her mouth to lick up and down as far as her tongue would reach. Going around behind her, I stroked her lovely, full buttocks, tracing every full curve with my fingers. She shuddered, her toes dancing again. I slapped her pure white globe with my hand, drawing a moan, and repeated it several times. Probing her crotch, I found her extremely damp already, and thrust my index finger into her suddenly, making her gasp.

Her ass showed a little faint red from the palm of my hand. Doubling the belt, I rubbed it up and down her back, then gave her the first gentle blow with it. Working back and forth, I picked up the pace and intensity until I found the sweet spot of exactly how hard to deliver the blows for the right balance of pain and pleasure. "One," I shouted at the first real stroke.

"Thank you, sir, may I have another?" She shouted.

"Two."

"Thank you, sir, may I have another?"

"Oh, Bea, I wish I were you right now," her sister moaned; her Grandmother moaned from her sock stuffed mouth in the closet. Onward I went, until I hit the magic number eighteen; my erection standing firm and ready as I made the last one.

Throwing the belt to the floor, I reached between her legs to find her well lubricated. I gently nudged her feet apart a little, then probed between her cheeks in search of her birth canal. I found the passage and began to push the head of my cock into her tight, damp hole. It took a while to work myself all the way inside her, pushing past her resistance as I had her sister's, but when the final barrier gave way, she leaned back as best she could to receive my thrusts. I slapped her already red butt and leaned forward to milk her generous breasts as I made love to her, she hooted and hollered before her voice ascended in a high coloratura and she had her orgasmic initiation.

I began pulsing right after Bea hit her high note, making my last exercise of St. Dunstan's droit du seigneur. Grasping her breasts tightly, I stayed inside her until our breathing both returned to normal and my soft John Thomas came free.

Picking up my belt, I turned to face Mavis in the closet, her breasts turning from light purple to medium, her eyes wide and shining in anticipation. I remembered the times I spent with her: very different from any other's, but special in their own way. If there was anything odd or unique I felt like trying, Mavis was my willing collaborator. Her luscious lips had caressed my body on many occasions, and I could never get enough of fondling her gigantic breasts. I knew what she wanted: to whip her tits until she came, working over her nipples especially. She was wearing rings in her pierced pillows, and I was sorry that I wasn't able to use them as she wanted, but I picked up my belt and approached her pleading, expectant, frightened eyes.

The first blow landed squarely across her huge nipples, hitting the nubs, and making her cry out through the dirty sock in her mouth. Her breathing seemed a little labored, so I took the sock out of her mouth. "Yes, Vicar, yes," she said once her jaw adjusted to liberty again, "give it to me."

I hit her again and the twins gasped. A sense of catharsis flowed through me as I landed blow after blow.

"Yes, yes, yes, please, more, again, again, nice, ow, ow, yes, mmm, love it, I'll, miss you, yes, hard, hard, so good, so good, please.

"So close, close, close, close, close." A glance back; the twins' eyes were raptly drinking in the web of red marks across their grandmother's bound bare breasts. Bea's eyes gleamed and she licked her lips, her sweet mouths resting on the ledge of the prie-dieu; Betsy was sitting up on the bed, her hands still bound behind her, shaking her tits in invitation. The leather landed on Mavis again with a loud slap. "Yes, yes, yes, more, more, more, yes, almost, almost, almost, almost, AHHHH!" Her orgasm was so strong her hands broke free from their confinement and I caught her as she sagged to the floor, quickly releasing the ropes around he

*************

My cell phone interrupted my memories. I pulled it from my belt: "Hello?"