Easter at St. Michael's Ch. 02

"Brothers and Sisters. Today is Maundy Thursday, the fifth day of Holy Week. It gets its name from the Latin word 'mandare', from which we get the word 'command'. Christians remember Jesus' command: "Love one another as I have loved you."

Though each of the days leading up to Easter Sunday are significant in their own ways, Maundy Thursday surrounds the events that lead directly to Jesus' betrayal, arrest, and ultimately, His being put to death the next day on Good Friday."

Reverend Morris continued. "The circumstances surrounding Maundy Thursday can be read in Matthew 26:17-75. The events that unfolded include the Last Supper that Jesus had with His disciples and betrayal of Jesus by Judas."

The weather had become more springlike and milder, which was a blessing to some of the older members of the congregation. March had blown in like a lion and was going out like a lamb. St Michael's church was often chilly and draughty during the winter months, even with the heating on. Today, it was pleasantly warm, helped in part due to to the church being full for once.

At the organ, Mia slipped her feet out of her shoes, ready to play a hymn before the start of the foot washing service. She rather liked the feel of the organ's pedalboard against her bare skin, and her feet felt hot and uncomfortable today. Earlier, she'd suffered cramp in the arch of her left foot. She reclined slightly on the stool, crossed her legs and idly flexed her toes as the vicar continued with his sermon. Gordon sat on a small bench behind her, admiring her shapely calves. He liked the way she raised her legs to slide onto the organ stool. Even more, he loved it when those legs were wrapped around him...something he was looking forward to later.

"Their time spent on the Mount of Olives, where Jesus prayed earnestly in the Garden of Gethsemane, and where He was ultimately betrayed with a kiss by Judas who came to seize Him with the temple guards. Peter's denial of Jesus..." Up in the pulpit, Reverend Morris glanced to his right and became more and more fixated on a certain something. One of his long-repressed kinks was rising to the surface at the most inappropriate of times. Women's feet, younger women's feet in particular, had always aroused him. He'd never told anyone about his foot fetish, not even Jenna. He'd never had such a reaction as this and certainly not during a church service. But the way his wife's cousin kept wiggling her toes like that, dear Lord, it was driving his imagination to commit all kinds of sin! It's Holy Week for heaven's sake...must fight this, he told himself.

"On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?" The vicar's voice trembled slightly, as he struggled to remain composed.

Abruptly, he noticed Mia wince and reach for her foot. The cramp had returned.

"What's wrong?" Gordon whispered.

"Damn cramp's back again," she replied. "Aggh, it's agony! Can you play the hymn for me?"

"No problem," he said, as his girlfriend hobbled off the stool and sat on the bench. "Massage your foot slowly. Try putting it on the cold stone floor. That might help. I've gotten cramp loads of times in the past when playing. It's bloody torture!"

"Thanks, Gordy-Pie!"

Poor Mia, Reverend Morris thought. Now he had an even better view of her bare feet. Such slim and elegant feet. So nimble against the organ's pedalboard. He took a deep breath as he imagined he was cupping the arch of her foot, his hand slotted in the tender space between the heel and the upper sole. After an awkward pause, he continued his sermon.

"He replied, "Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, 'The Teacher says: My appointed time is near. I am going to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house.'" So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them and prepared the Passover."

Some young children were shifting uncomfortably in the pews.

"How will we show that God is King when we're tempted, to abandon the way God call us to live? Knowing God is our King should change everything but we can't change everything all at once! So what one small step of obedience can we take this week to demonstrate with our lives that God is King all of the time? Take time to pray, and then seek to obey as Jesus obeyed. Amen!"

Reverend Morris ended his sermon abruptly, no doubt to the relief of many, but most importantly, to himself. He descended from the pulpit and sat down beside the organ, as a member of the choir stepped up to the lectern to do a reading. He hardly heard a word the woman said, for his eyes were fixated on Mia's bare feet. She was still gently massaging her left foot. Oh dear, this was going to be unbearable. He knew she'd volunteered to take part in the ceremonial foot washing.

Mia suddenly glanced at the vicar and smiled at him. He jolted and cleared his throat, before smiling back. He could feel a familiar burning in his cheeks, not to mention a throbbing in his cock, which was now at full stand, and forcing its way up against his trousers and vestments. He had never been more grateful to be wearing a cassock and surplice. He cast his mind back to last year when he'd allowed himself to be seduced by her. All in the past of course and they'd moved on. Besides, she was blissfully happy in a relationship with Gordon. The organist had slept with Jenna on numerous occasions before Mia had come along. Hmm, well best not to dwell on that tangled web of carnal relations right now.

The reading came to an end and everyone stood up. "Please stand for our hymn, Sweet Sacrament Divine." Reverend Morris said, his voice faltering.

On the front row of pews, Jenna tilted her head at her husband's shaky delivery, wondering what was wrong with him. It wasn't like Simon to be nervous when speaking in front of an audience. Something was bothering him though. She could see a line of sweat above his upper lip and a blush on his cheeks.

After the hymn, came the ceremonial washing of feet, a reminder of how Jesus served others. As Mia sat before the vicar, her delicate hands folded in prayer, he could feel his heart race with anticipation. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, and began to wash her feet, using a soft, damp cloth to clean each toe, each inch of her soles. As his fingers brushed against her skin, he felt a surge of desire course through him, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the feel of her feet against his palms. His erection began to ache, straining against his clothing, and he fought the urge to reach down and adjust himself, lest he give anything away.

Mia seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil, content to let him tend to her with his gentle ministrations. Her breath hitched softly as he massaged a particularly tender spot on her arch, and he found himself growing bolder, wanting nothing more than to explore every inch of her feet, to lose himself in their softness and warmth. He moved his hands higher, tracing the line of her calves, feeling the muscles tense and relax under his touch.

"Are you washing feet or giving out a full sponge bath, Vicar?"

Reverend Morris was jolted back to reality and he glanced up. An impatient old woman sat next to Mia was glaring at him. "It'll be Advent before you've got round to washing all our feet."

"Umm, my apologies, Mrs Harris, I er..."

"Stop being mean to him," Mia interrupted. "He's just being thorough. Like Jesus would've been!"

The old woman tutted. "I'm not being mean, young lady!"

The vicar's face was turning crimson, fearing that his arousal might be visible. He tried to focus on his duties, to keep his mind on the ritual, but it was becoming increasingly difficult, not to mention he was leaking precum into his underwear. The wet patch was becoming uncomfortable against his cock. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and forced his mind back to the task at hand. He finished washing her feet with a gentle pat, feeling a pang of regret as he stepped away from her.

"About time," Mrs Harris muttered as the vicar began washing her feet. "And be careful. I've got corns!" The ninety-year old's gnarled toes were sufficient to calm the raging sea of arousal surging within him. At least until the service was over. Mia headed back to the organ, her feet feeling lovely and refreshed.

"What was that all about?" Gordon wondered, as she sat next to him on the organ stool. "Simon looks a bit flustered."

"Well I could be wrong, Gordy-Pie, but I think he's got a raging hard-on under those robes. I noticed him staring at my feet earlier. He kept trying not to, but couldn't help himself!" She giggled. "Do you think he's got a foot fetish?"

"Nah. He's done foot washing before and I don't recall him getting worked up."

"Yeah but, this is the first time he's washed my feet...or Jenna's. She didn't volunteer last year."

"Hmm, well you do have beautiful feet. I'm not into feet myself...I'm a thigh, tits and arse man, as well you know!"

"Your feet are nice too."

"Haha, you're just being kind, there! My size nines are ugly, hairy and sweaty."

"Organists have special feet. After pressing down on those pedals, yours must be aching."

"A bit. Perhaps you could...heal me later?" He winked at her.

The rest of the service passed without incident. Reverend Morris had never been more relieved to return to the vicarage.

"Are you okay Simon?" Jenna asked as he flopped down on the settee and fiddled with his clerical collar. "You seemed a bit uncomfortable in the church. You're not coming down with a bug are you?"

"Oh I'm absolutely fine, my love, It was a bit warm in the church. I'll have to ask Norman to adjust the radiators."

"I enjoyed the foot washing. Though not as much as you did!" She sat beside him and ran a finger across his knee. "Now Jesus being the Son of God, I reckon he was able to resist temptation when washing the feet of some nubile female disciple."

The talk of feet was getting the vicar hot and bothered again. "Um, can't say I've ever given any thought to whether Jesus had those kind of...er, urges."

"Would it have been wrong if he had?" She continued. "Not trying to be disrespectful. I'm just curious, that's all."

"Probably not, given that he died to save us from our sins." He coughed and felt his cheeks burning again.

"Simon you're blushing. Something's bothering you. Please tell me what's wrong."

"I'm not sure I can, Jen. I'm a bit ashamed of it to be honest. It's not something I've ever admitted to anyone."

She placed her hand in his. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. Please don't feel ashamed."

He took a deep breath. "Feet. I like feet, Jen. I...have a foot fetish. Ever since I was a teenager. I don't know why. Women's feet. They just float my boat. There, I said it."

"That's nothing to feel ashamed about, Simon! I think you'll find that's a really common fetish." She embraced him.

"Though I wish I'd had better self-control during that part of the service. I was as hard as rock during the foot washing...when I did yours...and your cousin's. I think she's sussed me out."

"Oh Mia wouldn't have noticed. Probably too distracted by thinking about getting her hands on Gordon's organ pipe. Besides, you had your robes on. Nobody would've suspected a thing. Right..." she continued. "I'm going to have a very quick shower. And when I come out, I expect you to be lying on the bed, feet bare, ready and waiting." She winked at him and his stomach jolted in excitement.

"You mean..."

Jenna smiled. "It's Maundy Thursday, Simon. What better time to indulge in a bit of foot worship? Now go and lie on the bed."

He immediately obeyed.

In the shower, Jenna began singing, no doubt in preparation for the big event on Easter Sunday. Reverend Morris was really looking forward to that. His church was going to be packed. Getting the Guild Voices to perform truly was a master stroke on Gordon's part. And with Jenna singing in the Guild too, well, what could go wrong? Nobody would want to attend St Peter's for Easter, even if they did have a hot organist who looked like Robert Pattinson. He started undressing and reclined on the bed. Closing his eyes, his mind drifted back to the incident in church, when Mia had been massaging her sore foot.

Five minutes later, his eyes shot open as he felt a kiss on his cheek. Jenna smirked and lay back down, deliberately pressing her breasts, warm and wet from the shower, against his chest. He let out something that was halfway between a sigh and a moan and craned his neck to meet her mouth with his. She raked her nails down his scalp. She tended to get less gentle as she grew more aroused, so this was a sure sign that she was enjoying herself just as much as she was. He grinned against her lips and placed his own hands on her hips, gripping the gentle undulations there.

Jenna was so good at multi-tasking, whilst he could only focus on one thing at a time if he was going to do it halfway well. So he concentrated on kissing her properly, on wrestling his tongue against hers.

"Simon, take your undies off," she gasped, dismounting him, her breasts bouncing as she went. It took him a couple of seconds to comply and he cast his boxers aside. "Now." She settled herself on the side of the bed, legs dangling over the edge. "On your knees."

He obeyed, unable to contain his excitement.

Jenna giggled and extended a leg. "I want you to massage my feet Reverend," she purred, sending shivers of joy through him. "You're going to massage them, and then you're going to worship them. Do you understand?"

Salivating, he nodded eagerly.

She had such pretty feet. The shape of the actual foot was perfect, the heel smooth and well cared-for, the skin of the instep soft and delicate. He longed to put his mouth all over it and his cock pulsed impatiently.

Taking her right foot, he focused on her little toe, licking along the bottom of it, then running his tongue back down the side, all the way into the little dip. Reaching the bottom, he wrapped his lips around the digit and gently sucked once again.

"Mmm."

This was sufficient encouragement for him to repeat the attentions, pressing kisses back down to her heel, his fingers kneading gently the flesh he hadn't yet reached. Then, looping back up to the top, he sucked each of the remaining toes in turn, massaging the pads with his tongue, forming his lips to the shape of Jenna's flesh, entirely lost in the sensation.

By the time he had properly attended to every part of her right foot, he realised that he had spent quite a lot of time performing his worship, crouched on the carpet on his knees, and glanced up sheepishly to assure that his wife wasn't bored.

She definitely wasn't and made made a strange, strangled noise of surprise and pleasure.

"That feels amazing, Simon. Now do my other foot."

The vicar longed to touch himself. His cock ached with his arousal and neglect. But he wasn't about to leave a job unfinished, and quickly started worshipping Jenna's left foot too.

"Ooh!"

Reverend Morris began to say a prayer. "Heavenly Father, We lift up prayers of thankfulness for the example of humility that Christ has given us, as He washed His disciple's feet that night. Humbling Himself, and teaching us how to treat one another with the same humility and love. Thank You, Lord for His life. Help us to live as He did, humbly before You and others. In Jesus' name, Amen."

"Thank you for worshipping my feet, Simon," Jenna moaned. "Now you may worship the rest of me."

Even before he pushed her legs apart she made room for him. And no wonder: she was very ready, her entrance slick with her natural lubricant, her pussy pink and engorged. She had been teasing herself for some time. It was proof that she had indeed enjoyed the foot worship as much as she had claimed to, and almost as much as he had. He reached out a hand, tracing the line of Jenna's shoulder with his finger, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. Her breathing deepened, and she let out a contented sigh, as if she felt the touch even in her dreams.

"Mmm. Happy Maundy Thursday Jen," he whispered.

The air in the vicarage bedroom seemed to crackle with desire as Reverend Morris leaned in and kissed her deeply, their tongues tangling together in a dance of passion. He rolled onto his side, taking her into his arms, their naked bodies pressing tightly together. With ease, he slid his hand down between their bodies, guiding himself toward her wetness. She arched her back, meeting his touch with a moan, and he thrust forward, filling her completely. The sensation was exquisite, the connection they shared almost painfully intense. They moved together in perfect sync, their bodies writhing and twisting as if they were a single entity.

Their skin glistened with sweat, their breaths came in ragged gasps, and Reverend Morris knew that he was on the brink of his own release. He looked down at Jenna, her face flushed, her eyes clouded with pleasure, and he felt an overwhelming love and desire for her consume him. With one final thrust, he emptied himself into her, their bodies collapsing together in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

"God...." was all he could utter as he and Jenna got their breaths back.

"Needed to get that out of your system didn't you, my love?" Jenna smiled, rubbing a hand across his belly. "I'm glad you told me about your little fetish. I'll keep it in mind the next time I want to surprise you!"

"So...you're okay with it then? You don't think it's weird?"

"Of course, Simon! And it's not weird. And it's 2024, not 1824. As a matter of fact, I rather like the idea of being married to a feet-loving vicar!"

He laughed. "I'm just going to pop downstairs and grab a glass of water, then I'll be straight back up to tickle your feet some more!" He slid off the bed and hurried out of the room, not bothering to put any clothes on. After all, who was going to...

"Oh I say, Vicar!"

He froze as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his cock swinging.

Mrs Harris, the impatient old woman who'd berated him earlier, was standing in the hallway.

"Sorry for interrupting I'm sure. But you did say yours was an open house, and I did knock. The Mother's Union have produced these biscuits ready for Easter Sunday. You did request that I bring you some. I would've handed them to you in the church, but you hurried off home so fast, I didn't get the chance!"

Poor Reverend Morris. He hadn't been this shocked since he walked in on Gladys Wilcox spanking the naked churchwarden's arse last year.

"Um..um, thank you very much Mrs Harris!" He grabbed a copy of the parish magazine off a side table and tried to cover himself. "Er, so sorry about this...I was...er, in the shower!"

The stern-faced pensioner raised an eyebrow. "Quite. Well I trust you'll be more suitably attired during the Sunday service! Good day to you!"