tagErotic CouplingsBless me Father Ch. 04

Bless me Father Ch. 04

bylaplappapillon©

Ch 04 "I have been a naughty girl"

Part 1

Sister Mary's sap was fully risen, her years of reluctant celibacy had drawn to a close and she had no plans to return. Her gentle, exploratory touches of Jennifer and Marilyn during the Mass were still fresh in her mind and her clandestine liaison with Christine and Vincent in the shower had taken her to places she had never imagined.

Mary was still technically a virgin, her oral ministrations upon Vincent's warm, tumescent cock were quite delicious...In the past, her thoughts had never dwelt for long on the contents of men's britches, her life's observations and experience of them as a species had left her jaundiced and disdainful. However, watching that lovely cock sliding smoothly in and out of Christine's smooth, pink slit had aroused a nagging twitch between her thighs and no man was better equipped to soothe it.

Mary had harboured a fondness for the fairer sex since leaving school for convent life, although she had never really done anything about it until recently. She alleviated her basic instincts in rare moments of indulgence and morally defended it on the scales of human justice with the work she carried out amongst the stricken and unfortunate. She did have a convent dalliance with an older Brazilian sister, who, to her great disappointment was outposted to a Bangladeshi refugee camp a month later and despite her attempts, she had lost touch and hadn't seen her since.

Genuinely committed to her vocation in every other respect, her 2 year sabbatical in the orphanages of West Africa had earned her great respect and admiration from her peers. Since her arrival at St. Martin's, she had displayed particular skill and compassion in comforting the local parishioners in their sickbeds. Many schools, hospices and care homes had come to rely on her wisdom and her calming and selfless aura.

Mary however, had now tasted the ambrosia of sex and in a way, she felt that she deserved it. She only had to justify herself to her God and deep inside she was confident that he would accept her reasons - He had created her and her conscience and had also accepted her vocation. Little did she know, but Father Vincent was currently justifying precisely the same sentiments to himself.

All four women had become victims of their own success to some extent. The priest had certainly impressed them all in one way or another with his physical presence and his undeniably impressive manhood.

Vincent did have the Achille's heel of their passive blackmail which fell squarely in the girl's favour....he was absolutely glued to them now by virtue of this imagined threat. They could essentially do as they pleased to him within the confines of the church grounds...which protected them all to some extent.

Both Vincent and Mary knew intimately the minutae of this hallowed place...the whereabouts of each inhabitant, their movements, habits, strengths and weaknesses...it would work to both of their advantage...in Mary's case to exploit her ambiguous leanings towards the priest and her chambermaid Christine... and in Vincent's case, somewhere to hide to escape the attention of his tormentors...the sacred altar and pulpit where even the boldest nymphomaniac daren't trespass and the confessional...who would have the courage to molest him in there?

The church by definition was a very private place outwith the normal solemn services and although the doors were never closed, it was very rare for a member of the public to even enter the gates.

Vincent had been caught unawares on two occasions and was defensively keeping a very low profile, feigning migraine and backache which he imagined would protect him from the predatory girls.

He was under no illusions...they had awakened dormant urges in his loins which he struggled to quash, they had also put him in an extremely vulnerable place in respect of his role as a priest in this or any other parish...he had to find a balance until his novelty value wore off and things coulld return to normal, he found it impossible to be angry at anyone and actually blamed himself the most for his own weakness in dealing with it professionally...but he was on a hiding to nothing....A devout Carmelite Nun and her reluctant immigrant assistant and two apparent "pinkies" ....who would believe him?

Marilyn and Jennifer couldn't shake Father Vincent from their mind...although they were truly very fond of him and had no wish to hurt him, he had become their sexual focus and they discussed their seduction of him quite freely. The encounter had drawn the girls even closer together than they would have imagined and whenever the opportunity arose, they used it as a springboard to fall into each other's embrace...he had become a catalyst for their own erotic interludes.

Their birth of sexual awareness, like most girls, had been at school, using boys to heighten their exhibitionist arousal. It never went any further, in fact both girls remained virgo intacto until devoured by marriage.

During their last year at school, when Marilyn was head girl, the girls had progressed into minor role-playing, preferring it to the complications and compromises ensuing from liaisons with boys.

As 18 year olds, preparing for University, they spent hours at home in each other's company listening to music, planning their careers and discussing every topic under the sun. It seemed perfectly natural for Marilyn to slip into the role of naughty girl, with the slightly more serious Jennifer assuming the position of teacher. Marilyn even dressed for the occasion in her school uniform to enhance the experience.

The naughty little sessions would invariably run out of control and the language become more ripe and lusty, as they discussed their plump buttocks, firm breasts and slippery slits. They would begin with giggles and tickles, but rapidly progress to the more seductive.

Completely aroused and with heaving bosom, Marilyn would breathlessly pant "Are you going to pull my knickers down, Miss? "

"You have been a naughty girl, I am going to have to spank you"

Jennifer would pull her across her lap, carefully positioning her until their mounds were pressed together. Slowly and steadily she would raise Marilyn's skirt, exposing her thighs and the pale blue school knickers covering her tightly muscled rump. Minutes would invariably pass as they both savoured the moment and quivered in anticipation. Jennifer adored Marilyn's bottom and before delivering a slap, she would gaze at it and run her fingers over it, heightening Marilyn's arousal until they could bear it no longer.

The spankings were fairly gentle affairs, barely reddening the cheeks. The purpose was arousal rather than fulfillment and the girlish, staccato conversation steered their actions towards the inevitable juicing of their peaches.

"Oooh miss, my bottom is stinging, it must be turning red by now"

Jennifer would wriggle the knickers down to her thighs

"Yes, you naughty girl, your bottom is very pink now, perhaps this will teach you a lesson for the future"

The slow and gentle slaps would continue, punctuated by gasps and mewings from both, until they felt the ooze of oily syrup from their bursting little quims. Invariably the language becoming riper and more rude. The girls loved to talk dirty, it just excited them all the more.

"What have you got to say for yourself now, young lady?"

"I am absolutely soaking between my legs, miss, my fanny slit is all slippery and wet and my nipples have turned so stiff....your spanking has made me very horny"

"Well, young lady, my fanny is dripping with creamy, sticky syrup, just like a man's warm spunk, so what are we going to do about it? "

"Oooh miss!! I shall have to stroke my pussy and wank my clitty bud until I cum all over my fingers, then I shall have to lick it all up "

Jennifer would watch, spellbound and completely aroused, as her friend collapsed on the carpet, rubbing her sodden quim until she climaxed in a welter of gasps and moans. The spectacle would spur her to delve her fingers down the front of her knickers and rapidly rub her aching lips until she too reached a shuddering orgasm...sometimes Marilyn would crawl towards her with a wicked lusty leer and lick Jen's fingers as she wanked, enhancing her excitement and guaranteeing spectacular orgasms.

Neither young woman perceived their antics as anything other than a sexual game. They had played out their little fantasies for years. No-one got hurt, no-one got pregnant and no-one even noticed. They lived comfortable lives, shared every thought and were generally really happy.

Marilyn, however, did harbour frequent lusty thoughts about Vincent. He was a very attractive man in her eyes, not particularly in his physical attributes, although they were self -evident, but more his unique vainless manner and his open-minded view of the 21st Century. Her husband, although essentially a decent and harmless individual lacked any real sparkle as a man.

Predictable and lacklustre, he played golf and watched endless rugby matches, always wore a tie, kept his hair short, cut the grass on Sundays, made blokey jokes with his friends and generally bored her to distraction. Her closeness to Jennifer compensated in so many ways for his breadwinning ' lump of wood ' personality.

The endurance of the girl's relationship was due in part to this mutual acceptance of life's conditioning. Jennifer's husband was a carbon copy in many ways, he had his hobbies and his barrack room politics and his work...her efforts at arousal commonly met with ambivalence and indifference. The only time that Jen really enjoyed his company was when they took their annual trips abroad to Spain or Cyprus or wherever. Separated from his comfort zone, he would become far more attentive towards her... although Jennifer viewed this as an insecurity.

She particularly enjoyed the warm summer nights on the balconies of the Costas, sipping icy cold wine and exploiting the anonymous holiday ambience to bend over in her bikini, wiggling her bottom to prime his cock or show too much breast or thigh in a restaurant in the hope of luring his face between her legs when they returned to their apartment. Sadly, he was not overly keen on cunnilingus, preferring to assuage his lust by fucking her for 20 minutes until her teeth rattled then promptly falling asleep with his sticky member shrinking to nothing inside her.

Jen's liaisons with Marilyn were different. They had a myriad of ways to arouse and satisfy each other sexually and took every opportunity to indulge themselves. Their only boundaries were mutual and respected. No petty jealousies or sexual politics penetrated their world. Living relatively comfortable lives, they intended to keep it that way. They were, incidentally completely unaware of Father Vincent's embryo relationship with his secretary and her chambermaid.........

Part 2

Saturday's dawn split the darkness with shafts of pink and orange. Mid July was Mary's favourite time of year. Rising at dawn in the winter brought feelings of sack-cloth and penance. She climbed straight from the swaddling duvet into the shower and sang to herself as the embracing liquid played around her body. She dressed in her Quakerlike working habit and headed towards the kitchen where her trusted maid should be preparing breakfast.

Christine was a cat-napper by nature, so was rarely tired and always 'there' when duty called. She was an extremely fit young woman of 27 tender years and led a comfortable secure existence in the midst of this fairly oddball group of people.

Rising an hour earlier than Mary, she had showered and dressed, smoked a cigarette, brewed the coffee and with Radio 2 hovering in the air, she was scrambling Mary's eggs in butter and creme fraiche as she entered the kitchen. The Portuguese are accustomed to cakes and sweet things for breakfast and although Christine was bemused by the British penchant for eggs and bacon, she prepared their breakfasts with good humour and no small amount of skill. Most of the priests would cheerfully wolf down the sizzling crispy rashers, sunnyside ups, fried slice, tomatoes and mushrooms. Vincent preferred a kipper or a couple of poached on toast.

" Morning Christine, how are you today, my dear?"

"Hola, sister, I am very fine, obrigado, it is a beautiful morning"

"I've been thinking, would you help me change the curtains in the Father's lounge please, my dear, it must be six months now and they could do with a launder....we can put up those light cotton ones now . Call me when you have finished with the breakfast things and we can fetch the stepladder from the garage and have the place brightened before lunch."

"Okie dokie, Sister Mary, meu prazer."

The kitchen quickly filled with ravenous priests and Mary engaged each of them in conversation, carefully watching Vincent for any trace of discomfort. He betrayed none, engaging her in polite, straightforward pleasantries before chatting quite earnestly with Fathers Ward and O'Halloran about the impending visit of the Archbishop for their 50th Anniversary celebrations.

The Fathers were genuinely excited, between them and their predecessors, they had run a very professional parish over the years and in this part of the city that was no mean feat. Many of their flock were unemployed and reliant upon the social system and their success in managing this environment had bestowed them as a working model for all the parishes of the Diocese.

Mary excused herself, thanking Christine for her tasty meal and headed for the Library. She had a bit of catching up to do with her book-keeping - a chore she deplored, but an hour or so would make a significant dent in the task and bring her close to readiness for the September audit. She elected to collect the aluminium stepladder en-route, killing 2 birds with one stone in the process and chuckled to herself as a foraging field-mouse scampered beneath her feet, startled back to its' nest amongst the tool boxes and paint tins. Mary mock-mawkishly began to sing.

"All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small.

All things mouse and pussycat, the Lord God made them all"

An hour's studious labour shuffling invoices and receipts, logging in data in the accounts book and suddenly she was finished...Mary mused to herself that most jobs are never quite so bad as they seem and headed for the Father's Lounge, lugging the stepladder hooked into the crook of her arm.

Christine was already there, dusting the furniture. Mary watched her for a few moments before unfolding the steps and putting them into position in front of the window.

"Are you ok with heights my dear?"

"Yes, Sister...back home in Portugal in my mother's orchard we would use ladders to collect the fruit and the olives - I have no fear of high ups"

"If you can unhook and lower the curtains, I will pass up the new ones for you to hang"

Mary steadied the steps for the girl and watched very carefully as her waist, then her hips, then her legs and feet passed her eyes.

Christine knew exactly what was happening and climbed steadily until her ankles were level with Mary's eyes. She began to unhook the curtains, fully aware that Mary was looking up her dress.

Mary studied the shapely, bare legs, relishing the moments as her eyes moved slowly upwards. Perfectly formed thighs, slender and olive hued...she felt a warm glow between her legs as the curve of Christine's rounded bottom appeared. She was wearing cream coloured nylon knickers and deliberately placed her feet as wide apart as possible to give Mary the optimum view.

Mary's right hand strayed down to gently stroke the front of her skirt.

Eventually the first curtain was ready and Christine lowered it, lifting her leg slightly in the process. Mary watched as the gap between her legs widened. The folds, creases and puffy mound of her nylon clad flower were clearly visible through the skimpy material.

Not a word was spoken as she took the curtain and dropped it to the floor. Wild horses with flaming nostrils would not have averted Mary's eyes.

She became more and more aroused as Christine unhooked the next drape, both women knowing full well what the other was doing...the silence spoke volumes. Mary felt a distinct dampness between her legs and watched in awe as the same thing happened to Christine. A damp patch was forming in the crease of her knickers and a moist glow at the very top of her thighs. Mary felt a screaming urge to reach her hand up and stroke the beautiful peach.

It became the slowest curtain hanging in history...exhibitionist and voyeur wallowing in the liquid moments of their mutual arousal.

Eventually the task was finished. Both women now had seriously wet knickers with seriously syrupy contents. Christine began to slowly descend but stopped in her tracks, one foot a rung higher than the other as Mary's hand slid inexorably up her thigh. The fingers of her right hand slipped the nylon easily aside and she almost gasped as she felt the oily lips of the girl's quim.

Christine trembled so much that the ladder shook. Mary raised her left hand to stroke and squeeze the curves of her bum. She was about to put both sets of fingers into the juicy recess when she heard footsteps in the corridor outside.

Removing her sticky fingers, she swiftly regained her composure and began to chatter about the curtains..

"We should really shop around, my dear...these are nice, but the colours fade so much in the sun. We should go to the market soon and find some more..I'll fetch the tape and we can size them...Oh! Hello Father O'Flynn...I'll be with you in a moment"

The ageing priest leant against the door frame polishing his spectacles." No hurry, Sister, I was looking for company, the other Fathers have all gone to their duties"

Christine bustled past him, looking very flushed

"'scuse Padre, I have so much laundering to do today"

"You should slow down, young lady, you will have a turn - would you bring us some tea, please when you have a minute? "

"I will be back in no flat minutes, padre"

As the girl disappeared in a haze of musk, Mary settled to chat with the old father for a while, noticing how tired and grey he looked. It would not be long until he retired and she pondered his replacement even as they spoke. Vincent was the likeliest candidate, the diocese would surely promote internally in such a successful church. Mary relaxed into her conversation, pausing only when Christine returned bearing a tray of tea and biscuits.

Christine impishly stood with her back to Mary as she bent to serve the priest, Mary studied the perfect bubble bottom before her, the girls visible panty line seemed to take the form of an invitation and she reached out a finger to trace the outline. Christine didn't flinch, betraying her anticipation and remained in position as long as she dared before straightening as if to leave.

Mary watched in slow motion as the sugar bowl slid from the tray to empty its contents on the floor

"Madre de dias! I am so sorry...I will fetch a brush"

She scurried off to fetch it, returning surprisingly quickly and began to sweep up the mess. With her back to the priest, she squatted to one side of Mary and slowly opened her legs. Mary watched in amazement as the gap widened, the vee of her creamy knickers opened into a perfect hourglass with a very distinct damp stain extending the full extent of her slit, right into the curve of her bottom.

Mary squirmed in her seat, excited and aroused, she was being teased out of her mind today and she was loving every second of it. She knew in reality that the girl would share her favours quite willingly, but she was really enjoying the whole taboo and the delicious wet feeling in her loins. She excused herself to leave, treating the still kneeling maid to a glimpse up her own skirt before bustling off to her office and the inevitable pile of mail.

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