The Vicar's Wife Ch. 13bysarahloveitt©
THE VICAR'S DUTIES
On the Saturday afternoon of the vicar's wife's birthday week-end in London with her friend, Sarah, there was a garden party being held in the grounds of one of the wealthier widows of the parish. The widow lived in a large five bedroom mansion, with a large terrace which ran along the length of the rear of the house, with steps leading down to carefully maintained lawns and flower-beds. Garden furniture littered the lawns. Folding tables were covered with white cloths heavily loaded with buffet food of every description. And the wine bar, set up in a marquee, was well stocked, manned by two of the senior church wardens. Many guests were expected.
Profits were intended for the Church restoration fund. The roof was in urgent need of repair and several parishioners were holding events to provide much needed funds to pay for the work. Sheila's garden party would prove to be one of the highlights of the calendar! Lionel felt it a duty to attend. Well, after all, the vicar would be expected to be there. There would be many others there of course and Lionel's only duty would be to circulate among the guests and be relaxed and pleasant to them, encouraging them to part with as much money as possible.
Sheila was a very attractive lady of some maturity, living on her own means - or rather her late husband's pension. He had been a top solicitor and rather older than his wife. His sudden death from a heart attack three years earlier, had shocked the community. Now a respected widow, Sheila remained beautifully groomed, and a pleasure to the eye. That included Lionel's eye, for he was very taken with her - or more accurately, with her figure. She was in her late forties, tall, with close dark auburn hair. Though not particularly overweight, she did have a large pair of breasts and full thighs. And that was no exaggeration. A very handsome large body for Lionel to study when he thought no-one was looking.
But someone was looking. Sheila herself. She was flattered and a little amused. Perhaps he fancied her, she thought. Well, he was a very presentable fellow.
Lionel's wife, Susanna has beautiful breasts of course, but they are on the small side. Large breasts were Lionel's weakness. They fascinated him. There would be a good selection iof shapes and sizes for him to admire during the afternoon.
On the day of the garden party, however, Lionel's mind was far from relaxed. In the early hours of the morning, his daughter had visited him in his bed and, to his utter amazement, they had made love. Although it had been entirely at Emily's initiative, it was a happening that he should have resisted, but his physical desire had declined. In truth, he had been harboring erotic thoughts in his half-sleep at the time, and her climbing into bed was as an angel come to answer his prayer. A naked young female beside him was an open invitation to be fondled and the curves enjoyed to the full.
The memory was now more of a dream to him. A very pleasant one, but a dream none the less. And Emily had left immediately after breakfast to return to University via a visit to her grandparents on the way, so there had been little time to follow up the event..
In spite of this, Lionel had always been a serious, dedicated vicar. The one serious weakness in his intellectual make-up was that he was highly sexed. Sex had always been very demanding of him for as long as he could remember. He had always succumbed in to its demands - very frequently in fact - which was the cause of much dismay to him. He had virtually no control over its insatiable demands, which insisted on relief, and he had been brain-washed to believe that it was sin to abuse one's body in that way. So, it was one of his religious tutors at college who had finally managed to remove that deep-seated feeling of abject guilt Lionel felt after masturbating.
The tutor had explained to him that God had no quarrel with self gratification if was done merely to remove any feelings of tension within the mind, allowing it to concentrate on sober religious thoughts and duties. In fact, Lionel and the tutor had performed the occasional mutual masturbation session in the chapel. It was during one of these that the tutor explained to Lionel that he would find himself in demand by some of the frustrated ladies in his parish when he was found a living. This was not to be regarded as sinful - on the contrary, he would be performing an act of mercy by relieving the unfortunate ladies of physical shortcomings.
The realization that sex and self abuse was not regarded as sinful, had Lionel celebrate by indulging in an private orgy of masturbation. To his surprise, he still felt guilty! Old habits die hard and it took some months before he began to feel really comfortable afterwards.
It was Lionel's penance to have an almost permanently erect phallus. Only after the act of masturbation or, later in life, of fornication, was he allowed a brief respite from the stiffness. It was an acute embarrassment to him at times, but he had long concluded that it was God's will that it should be so, having made him that way. To be always ready to perform His will, Lionel thought. This was the only way he was able to accept what he considered to be his weakness. He wore elasticated underwear round his waist to hold the offending part against his belly, so that any sudden surge of excitement would not be noticed by others.
Lionel soon discovered after being given his first parish, as the tutor had predicted, that there were a few ladies who welcomed him into their clandestine arms. A welcome he was happy to accept. Indeed, he came to regard this as a pastoral duty - performing an act of kindness to some of his less fortunate parishioners. One particularly literary widow had described Lionel's pubic curls as being like interlaced strands of gold. Glittering in the sunlight, she described them as a halo glowing round the base of his glorious penis. A truly holy weapon. A truly handsome penis - the work of God. Mankind's supreme power. She waxed lyrical about the vicar's penis, particularly when it finally penetrated the portals of her secret altar amid happy sighs and moans.
However, the time came when he decided the time had come to find himself a wife, in order to dispel the rumors that were beginning to circulate about his sexual exploits. Susanna had been a perfect wife to Lionel, providing him with a daughter and a camouflage for his extra sexual activities. So, it came as a shock to him to discover that his wife was accused of having had an affair with the head choir boy. An eighteen year old Lothario, no less! There was no truth in the allegation, of course - at least, he preferred to believe there wasn't - but after close consultation with the headmaster of the young man's school and his own Bishop, it was arranged for Lionel to be found a different parish. Fortunately, one was available due to the retirement of the incumbent vicar.
So it was that the handsome forty-five year old vicar and his wife took up residence in their new village parish some twenty miles from the scene of the previous misfortune. And, of course, there were plenty of new attractive ladies in the offing for Lionel to discover. Angela in particular was a regular recipient of Lionel's sexual advances. A plain, but well endowed forty year old schoolteacher spinster, she had an insatiable appetite for sex. Unfortunately, though, Angela had recently left the parish to look after her elderly mother. There was still Janice, although she was not one to share in the action, lying immobile, legs apart, whilst Lionel intoned 'prayers' over her whilst fornicating. Strange lady! Still, she had full, conical-shaped breasts which proved very satisfying.
It had been with some relief to Lionel that he became aware of his wife's affair with Lady Sarah. An injudicious phone call he had overheard alerted him to their sexual encounters. He was more than happy with the arrangement, giving him some relief from the guilt he felt about having other women himself. And they don't come more discreet that Lady Sarah. They would surely be having a happy time on London whilst he was ogling the ladies in their summer dresses.
For the garden party, it had been a perfect summer morning. The sun had shone all the time and the wine had been consumed in quantities. But the event was drawing to a close. Many of the guests had eaten and drunk their fill - some rather more than was good for them - and started to drift away in the late afternoon. Helpers were busy clearing away the garden furniture and removing the remains if the food, which would be served with coffee the following day after the morning service. The marquees would be dismantled and taken away on Monday.
Combined with the heat, the wine had stirred Sheila's body with a vague awareness, a pleasant feeling of sexual desire. She found, now in her late forties, her interest in sex had become rather more intense. The sight of the vicar furtively studying her breasts had resulted in a slight ache in her belly, which craved pacifying with the feel of a thick cock inside her. But there was no hurry. Among the meaningless chatter of guests, the distant laughter, Sheila remembered her younger days when she would manage relieve her aching loins with deft fingers.
Memories of lying in the sun, holding her soft, plump genitals, squeezing them gently until the honey began to flow. Rubbing, probing with her index finger, exploring her own secret folds of responsive, supple flesh. Teasing her bud of delight, marveling at the ripples of lust surging through her in waves, building slowly to a pinnacle of overwhelming hunger for release. Holding back the climax until she could bear it no longer. Her whole body would shake and tremble until the welcome orgasms would rip through her like a great wave crashing over her.
Sheila smiled ruefully at the memory of those frequent, private occasions. She smiled as she wondered what her guests would say if they knew what was in her thoughts. Certainly the vicar! Yes, Lionel had made his admiration of her breasts quite clear. She knew he lusted after them, speculating on his love-making skills. Mmmm. Perhaps he would be a nice lover with a thick straight cock.
When everyone had gone, perhaps she would again lie in the sun - fondle herself once more, recalling earlier sexual encounters, flooding her vagina with her private sex juices. Yes, that would be nice. She began to look forward to it.
It was now late in the afternoon, still very warm with the terrace reflecting the heat of the earlier sun beating down on it. When the final goodbyes and profuse thank yous had been said, Sheila saw that only Lionel remained after waving off the last of the guests. She poured him a glass of red wine. He wouldn't stay long, she thought. Then she could enjoy the treat she had promised herself.
'You've done a remarkable job today, Sheila. Very successful. And the Lord gave us the sunshine to add to the enjoyment.'
'And the wine, vicar!' she laughed 'May as well have the rest of this bottle.'
He smiled as he took the glass from her, little realizing that Sheila was quietly simmering with lust. His own interest was centered on her breasts of course. Her summer dress, though perfectly dignified, allowed his lively imagination to visualize the mounds of soft female flesh encased in the lace bra, whose top he could see. The nipples made themselves proud against the silk, reflecting the erotic thoughts going through Sheila's mind, now sending quivers of excitement through him. His cock stiffened - of course.
'What about you?' he asked innocently.
'I still have a glass of wine here. Cheers!'
They drank to each other.
'A very pleasant claret, this.'
They looked at each other for a few moments as they sipped their wine. Sheila had always fancied Lionel, even more so after a few glasses of claret. She glanced down at his crotch, speculating on his penis - what it would be like to handle it - feel it penetrate her. Gosh! She thought she could see it's contours pressing against his trousers. No! Surely not! But yes, it was. He eyes eagerly looked for signs of movement, but gave up after a second or two.
Lionel was a gentleman of the old school. Intelligent and quite witty. Now a widow in her late forties, Sheila had no expectation of sex, though thoughts and memories of past physical enjoyment came to mind from time to time. Particularly after a few glasses of wine, her mind would dwell on the more exciting aspects of her sex, stiffening her nipples and lubricating her vagina..
And this was one of those occasions. There was a feeling of unease inside her. A slight ache, which troubled her. Her mind was fixed on sex. Sheila had never been a passionate lover, her enjoyment of the act being more calculated - more sensuous - more delightful. Her orgasms were always well controlled and thoroughly sublime. She preferred a partner of similar deliberations in his approach to love making, rather than one who rushed to his own climax.
There had been several in her life. Her late husband, however, usually - but not always if her fantasies during sex were particularly thrilling - fell short of her needs, which frequently gave rise to the necessity for careful and calculated masturbation to reach her climax. Sheila's sexual needs had faded over recent years, though she still enjoyed the occasional relaxing hour on a warm summer's day, lying naked on her bed, feeling her genitals all over with both hands, carefully spreading the seeping honey across the soft folds, coaxing them to a long drawn out, satisfying orgasm.
It always amazed Sheila that every orgasm came upon her as a completely new surprise, a fresh experience, jerking her loins and filling her mind with a feeling of exhilaration. The result was always a one of contentment as she lay there, her hand cupping her soft, warm vulva.
She looked at Lionel and wondered what sort of a lover he was. She smiled at him. 'Beautiful evening.'
'Sorry to have to leave it,' he replied. What he meant was sorry to leave the presence of those large breasts.
'Oh, you don't have to. I shall be on my own now. Why not stay a little longer? I shall enjoy the company.' she smiled at him as she put her wine glass on the table. 'And you can have longer to admire my figure.'
Lionel laughed. Oh dear! She'd rumbled him! 'Thank you.' He put his arm round her waist and kissed her lips gently.
Sheila was taken aback by his abruptness, but returned his kiss more firmly, he lips lingering on his.
'That was nice,' she said in her matter-of-fact voice as their faces moved apart. 'You could break a girl's heart doing things like that.'
Lionel laughed quietly, putting his glass on the table. 'I think we're past breaking hearts, but can still enjoy a friendly kiss. Particularly with an attractive, elegant mature lady.'
He wrapped his arms round her waist, kissing her again, more intensely. Sheila felt the texture of his lips on hers. Oh, what the hell! Determined to test out his intentions, she put her hand behind his head to press their faces together, allowing her lips to part slightly, the tip of her tongue tracing his lips. She was curious to know how he would react.
It was then that Sheila suddenly remembered her first real kiss and feel. It was at an end-of-year college party. She had been standing with friends between dances when she became suddenly aware of a boy looking at her intently from a little distance away. His eyes were filled with a curious hypnotic look she had never seen in anyone before. Her own eyes were drawn to his. Although she had seen him often enough before, Sheila had never realized what a gorgeous youth he was.
The fluttering in her groin surprised her - her body was beginning to ache - wanting attention, s they were right this minute. Her vulva started to leak with desire. She felt as though she was standing naked in front of him, A blush came to her cheeks at the thought. He had made a vague gesture with his head asking her to go outside with him. He sauntered off through the far door towards the outer door leading to the toilet block.
Making a vague excuse to her friends, Sheila followed him as casually as she could. She was breathless with excitement. It was almost dark. She stood in the doorway for a moment. A quiet pst! told her where the youth was standing. She crossed to him quickly, breathless. He put his arms round her, turned her round and pressed her against the wall in an alcove kissing her on the lips. She had no idea how to respond but just enjoyed the wickedness of it. His hands were pressing into her full breasts, pushing into the opening of the blouse.
When she felt his hand hoist up her skirt she panicked. She wasn't expecting this. He was going to feel her sex, she thought.
'No! No!' she muttered, but without conviction. She was just as curious as he was to know how it felt to have other fingers than her own playing with her soft virgin lips. Even so, she was nervous - and she soon found out how it felt. Deliciously wicked! His hot hand rubbed against the crotch of her cotton knickers.
Her loins had jerked at the touch. She couldn't help it! It was the first hand that had ever touched her there. Her mind was in a whirl of excitement. Her mouth turned dry. Then she felt a finger ease the knickers to one side and prod its way into her soft crack, moist with excitement. Sheila gasped, her stimulation mounting.
'My God! He's got his finger inside me' she murmured to herself. Before she had time to realise fully what was happening, the boy took hold of her hand, pushing it against his trousers. Somehow he had managed to pull his cock out, stiff and hard. He wrapped her palm round the naked shaft. Gosh! A boy's cock - in her hand. It was breathtaking! A hard shaft of warm flesh she had longed to fondle for ages. Now here is was in her hand. A real cock!
Although confused, she knew she was expected to pump it up and down. Older girls had explained that to her. Curled round the shaft, her hand jerked eagerly. She felt his fingers push in an out of her soaking vagina as he started to grunt in her mouth, his loins were jerking against her belly. Sheila now pressed the cock along the length of her wet crack. She wanted it to fuck her. But with the palm of her hand, she rubbed it up and down vigorously against her belly until she suddenly felt him explode with a stifled grunt.
When the hot effusion splattered her groin, Sheila froze in horror. She knew about ejaculation, but to actually feel it flood against her sparse public hair surprised her. Nervously dabbling her fingers in the sweet stickiness, she rubbed it over her own clitoris. Sheila was desperate for an orgasm. The additional wickedness of having a load of sperm spill over her thinly haired groin brought about the crashing wave of lust that tumbled throughout her body.
Sheila delighted in orgasms. She couldn't have enough of them, feeling them take over her entire being. But this was the first brought about by another person. A male! She exploded with amazing intensity!
She was still recalling that first experience of hot sperm gushing onto her belly - it was to remain an everlasting exiting memory for her, the first of several spouting cocks on her nipples and hairy crotch - when she realised that Lionel was gently caressing her bottom. That did it! She was a sucker for having her bottom stroked!
Lionel couldn't believe his luck! Sheila, of all people, in his arms and asking for kisses. What else does she want he wondered? She was certainly an attractive lady - handsome, rather than beautiful. She didn't smile easily - she was a serious lady with fine straight features and a soft figure, which interested him - he had often thought how it would feel to explore her - search her hairy folds. And here was the chance. He slid his hands down her back until they reached her buttocks, then took a cheek in each hand, pressing her to him as he began to gently kiss her neck and ears.