Emily's Story

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Life becomes more exciting for the vicar's wife.
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I found religion when I was young (fourteen in fact). It came as a bit of a surprise to my parents who only occasionally went to church. But, being good people they supported my decision to attend St. John's every Sunday. It wasn't quite so easy at school, where natural prejudices spurred people to make fun of me. But that was OK, because I felt joyful that I could ignore and even pity their attempts to make me feel the odd one out.

Franklin came to the church as a stand-in for our own vicar who had had to go into hospital for a heart operation. He was young -- well, relatively speaking. At twenty eight, he was ten years older than me, but compared to most of the men and women of religion I had come across he was very youthful.

I'd never contemplated entering the church myself, but some spark seemed to ignite when I was introduced to Frank and suddenly the idea of becoming a vicar's wife seemed to be the natural route for me to go. It started when he held a small tea party at the vicarage for the leading members of the congregation. I had been invited as a representative of the younger generation. Towards the end of the gathering, he asked me if it would be possible to "get together" to discuss ways that we might be able to attract young people to the church. Naturally I agreed.

The next Wednesday evening I turned up at 7.30pm as requested and Frank welcomed me in with a smile. We sat down on the sofa together and talked about the apathy that was shown by most people in the parish and how it could be countered. If I'm honest, I didn't really have many ideas, but this good looking man seemed to be full of them. The idea of holding a youth quiz night in the church hall was a simple one (which even I could have come up with), but he had already been to the nearest town and persuaded the manager of the sports shop there to provide some vouchers as prizes.

It turned out that I had a natural flair for organising such things. In reality, I just told people what I wanted them to do and they did it. The event was a success. We didn't expect to persuade anyone to attend services as a result, but it helped to put the church back in people's minds. By the time that Reverend Ted returned to his duties I was meeting with Frank almost every day. I enjoyed being in his company; he was handsome, kind, gentle, intelligent, a little shy but when he relaxed he was witty and amusing. Alas, it finally became time for him to leave and on his last day before departing for a permanent post in Devon, I was feeling very down.

I'd gone around to the vicarage to say goodbye, but when I got there the minicab had already arrived. Frank signalled to the driver to wait a minute. He took me by the hand (the first physical contact we had made since the initial handshake two months before) and led me back into the hallway.

"Look," he said. "I've never done anything like this before so I'm just going to dive right in. Will you marry me?"

It took some seconds for the meaning of his words to break through.

"Yes," I replied, knowing that it was what I had wanted for some time. "But, we've never even kissed!"

He pushed the door shut and wrapped his arms around me.

"I guess now is as good a time as any to put that right"

It was a simple kiss, but it seemed to last an eternity. Even then, he broke away far too soon.

"I've got to go. I'll call you when I get there."

I walked with him to the car, pecked him on the cheek and waved goodbye as the vehicle pulled away.

*****

It wasn't easy to see each other very often, being separated by over two hundred miles. I was still learning to drive and the train fares were not very cheap. But when we did meet we spent half our time planning the wedding and the other half wrapped in each other's arms. Oh, there was no sex -- we had agreed that we would save that for the wedding night. But I can't deny that I had strong feelings -- urges -- when were kissing. I often wished that his hands would roam, just a little, so that I could gently chide him with a friendly smile. But he was far too well behaved.

The wedding itself took place back home. Frank could have got the bishop to perform the ceremony, but I insisted that it should be Reverend Ted, who I had known since I was a little girl.

My father had gone to town, using a lot of his savings to give me the wedding I "deserved". When I arrived at the church with him - in a ribbon-bedecked Rolls Royce - the place was packed. I thought I knew all of the arrangements -- after all, I had planned them - but it seems that other people wanted to add little touches. I'd arranged for flowers around the sides of the church, but there were bouquets on the end of every other pew a well. The whole place was alive with colour and perfume. I had never seen it like this before.

The service itself seemed to go at a hundred miles an hour. Before I knew it I was saying, "I will".

When we emerged from the traditional flint-walled church, the bright spring sunshine broke through and bathed the entrance with warmth and light. The photographs took about half an hour; the last containing all of the guests and all of the people who had attended the church service. There were over two hundred in all.

The Wedding breakfast was held at the church hall next door, so out short walk was between an avenue of well-wishers throwing rice and confetti. The numbers attending the meal were limited due to the building's size, but once again people had decorated it magnificently. It seemed that people liked both me and Frank and wanted to show their appreciation for his short stay in the parish.

After the meal, the tables and chairs were moved to the sides and the DJ started warming up his equipment. The new Reverend and Mrs Black went around chatting to each of our guests in turn. By the time we finished, it was gone 11pm and time for us to drive to the hotel that we were staying in for the night, before heading off on honeymoon. Not surprisingly, the car had been decorated too. We had to stop half a mile away I order to untie the strings of tin cans that had been attached to the rear. We weren't so much embarrassed as worried that we might wake people up.

My wedding dress was simple, so rather than changing I travelled in it. Then we walked into our room we stopped and looked at each other.

"Um. I guess I hadn't really thought what happens at this bit," he said with a rueful smile.

"Me neither." Only now did I start to think about what was supposed to occur. I felt a little scared, but at the same time really very excited.

"Would you like me to undress in front of you?" I asked.

Frank's face was a picture. He managed to catch himself before he smiled to widely, but I could see (what I later came to understand was) lust in his eyes.

He muttered a strangled, "Yes."

I stood in my ankle length dress, still wearing my white satin high-heeled shoes and shrugged off the jacket that I had donned to keep out the April chill. I reached behind to unfasten the zip and then slipped the thin straps from my shoulders. I held the garment in place, just to tease him a little and then began to lower it.

The white lace Basque was the obvious thing to wear beneath the dress; it didn't require straps and held my breasts in place nicely. I'm not over-large in the chest area and even now they are pretty firm. So, I continued to lower it slowly, down past my waist, to my hips. I could see that Frank was enjoying my little "strip tease". I knew about erections, but somehow I didn't expect one to create quite such an obvious bulge. My nervousness returned, particularly as I knew that he was in for a surprise. As I lowered it further, the suspenders came into view along with the naked flesh of my thighs. When the stocking tops appeared he gasped.

I'd never worn stockings before, but the effect on Frank was amazing. He was completely rooted to the spot, mouth agape. His face went red and his body shook.

"Oh my..." he trailed into silence.

"Why don't you undress for me now Frank?"

There was no finesse, no teasing in the way he shed his clothes. The shoes, jacket, trousers, socks and shirt were off in seconds. I squealed when I saw the outline of his rigid penis tenting out the front of his boxer shorts.

"You... you won't hurt me, will you Frank? You will be gentle, won't you?" My words seemed to break through the spell.

"Of course I will, my darling."

Frank walked towards me and I shivered in anticipation. He knelt and unfastened the suspenders one at a time. Then, as he pulled the nylons down my legs I stepped out of my shoes and allowed him to remove them. When he stood back up he took me in his arms and gave me one of those kisses that I loved so much. It was then that I felt him pressing against my stomach. I'd never actually seen an erect penis before, so I had no idea how big it was supposed to be, but just then it felt huge.

Frank released me and then walked around behind me. I felt him struggling to unhook the eyes (you won't believe how long it took me to do them on my own -- after all, I wasn't going to let anyone else see me like that!). The last one came loose and I heard him make an intake of breath before finally unwrapping his wedding present.

His eyes were glued to my chest. "You are so beautiful," he said.

My eyes on the other hand were focussed on his bulge. "My turn," I said.

I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and slowly pulled them down. His dick seemed to get caught up as I tugged, but then came free. It swung back up and made a resounding slapping sound on his stomach. I knelt to let him step out of them and felt the heat from his blood-engorged flesh. This close it looked terrifying, surely it wouldn't fit into that small tunnel between my legs?

Without a word, Frank knelt down and returned the favour. I felt a weird, yet pleasant sensation as he drew my panties down and revealed my pussy. A kind of tingling that started there, but sent signals to other parts of my body at the same time.

Frank stood up and then manfully picked me up and carried me to the bed where he gently laid me down. He climbed onto the bed and started to kiss me again -- I felt as though I was melting in his embrace.

"Emily," he whispered. "I've been reading about... you know. Apparently I need to arouse you in order to make you lubricated."

I had an idea what that meant. Ever since first meeting Frank there had been times when thinking about him had made things happen - but I'd never dared to touch myself.

Frank began to stroke the inside of my thigh. For a while I held my breath, waiting for his hand to move higher, but instead he moved up to my breasts. First he cupped them (Oh! How I had longed for that!) And then he stroked my nipples with his fingertips (it made me bite my bottom lip). His hand travelled back down my ribs, over my tummy and past my belly button. I couldn't help myself; my legs parted of their own accord. When his fingers reached my pubic region I almost sat up. The rough skin of his digits rubbed across a particularly sensitive spot (my clitoris) and then traced the outline of my vagina lips.

As Frank continued rubbing, he added a little pressure. I could feel the labia parting.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "You're wet already!"

I apologised, "Sorry."

He chuckled, "No. That's OK. It's what's supposed to happen. I just thought it would take longer."

He kissed me again and then asked, "Are you ready now?"

"I guess so."

Frank manoeuvred one his legs between mine and I moved them further apart. He then took his weight on his hands and brought his other leg over so that he was now poised above me.

"Um, can you guide it in?" he said.

Then for the very first time I touched a penis. I can still remember it vividly. The first thing I noticed, even before I had wrapped my hand around the shaft, was how hot it was. It was also surprisingly hard considering that it was merely flesh. The head seemed to be big and looked just like a helmet. The little eye in the middle gaped and looked wet. I pushed it down until it was in line with the entrance to my vagina. I kept my hand there to make sure... well, to make sure it didn't go in too fast I guess.

Frank moved forward a fraction and I felt the pressure. It didn't feel quite right, so I moved the head down a little. This time, when he pushed, I knew he was in the right place. The lips started to part. There was more pressure, then a bit more. Suddenly, I felt a sharp, burning pain.

"Ah!" I yelled.

It hurt, but I gritted my teeth and waited. I'd been warned about this. Fortunately, Frank must have bee reading the right book, because he just pause until I managed to relax and the pain eased. It felt sore when he nudged forwards again, but there was a lot less resistance. I don't know how many pushes it took, maybe four or five, before he was fully in. Again, he waited before starting a rhythmic movement. It wasn't long before the other feelings overtook the ones of discomfort and I started to enjoy what was happening.

I suppose it was inevitable that Frank wouldn't last long, but I recall feeling a little disappointed that it was over so quick.

*****

So, that was my introduction to sex. We made love each evening of our honeymoon, but it wasn't until the Friday that anything more happened. It took me by surprise. We'd both had a little more wine with our evening meal than perhaps we should have. I felt really relaxed and found myself looking forwards to bed time. By now, Frank was a little less excitable and was lasting a little longer each time.

Frank rubbed my pussy for a while, but when he made to climb on top I pulled his hand back and asked him to do it for a bit longer. By the time he entered me I was in a much more advanced state of arousal. Every single stroke seemed to take me higher. I knew that he wouldn't last very much longer, but I just wanted him to go on and on. He moved faster and faster and I dug my fingernails into his backside trying to pull him deeper. Then he let out a yell and I felt the liquid gushing into my pussy. That was when it happened. It was as if my brain and body had become detached from my pussy. It became the centre of the universe for a few seconds, until the rest of my senses caught up.

I've heard the moment described as the "Clouds and Rain", but I've never actually understood that. It started with a fluttering feeling in my belly, quickly followed by a floating sensation and then the thrill centred on my clitoris, spreading outwards.

Frank looked at me strangely, but didn't say anything and rolled off to one side.

We returned to our new home; the vicarage in the village of Dempsey in Devon and settled into our married life. Sex became once or twice week and, very occasionally, I'd reach orgasm again. But I didn't mind. I was devoted to Frank and felt that it was more important that he reached his climax. After all, I couldn't have a baby unless he did. We waited patiently, but alas it never happened. It turned out that I couldn't have children. I was sad about it, but I knew that I should be grateful for all that I had; a wonderful husband, a home in a pretty little village and lots of societies and organisations that wanted my help.

The next twenty years seemed to fly past. Somewhere in the latter few years Frank and I ended up in separate beds. I still enjoyed sex with him, but the gaps between became longer and longer. Of course, it was inevitable that eventually I would experiment with touching myself to see if my body had the same reaction as it did when it was my husband doing it. I discovered that I could bring myself to orgasm. I sometimes did so after making love with Frank, when I didn't feel fulfilled (and after he had gone to sleep). Nowadays, I would usually resort to masturbation when having a long, hot bath. Er... not every time I have a bath of course!

The parishioners organised a party for us to celebrate out twentieth anniversary (both of our wedding and our arrival at the church). It was quite a function. Almost everybody in the village attended and although the music finished at 11pm, the gathering went on into the small hours. They cleverly held it on a Friday, knowing that Frank would have a day of rest before Sunday services. We made our excuses at about 1am and let the building. Turning left we made the short walk back up the lane past the church towards the vicarage. As ambled along a light drizzle began.

The way that he wrapped his arm around me, I figured that we were going to play "hide the sausage" when we got home. I couldn't help smiling.

It was disappointingly quick, so I found myself laying there waiting for Frank to nod off so that I could "take care of business" myself. But then I heard a noise outside. I almost missed it due to the sound of the heavy rain that had set in. It was like something crashing through wet undergrowth, but then I thought I heard a faint groan. I got out of bed and padded to the window to look out.

"Frank, there's somebody in the garden!"

"So?" he mumbled.

"I mean, he's lying in the garden. Well, most of him anyway. One of his legs is still hanging over the garden wall; I think it's caught up."

We both put on our dressing gowns on and made our way downstairs. It turned out to be Billy, an eighteen year old who used to be in the church choir. He was clearly the worse for drink. At a guess, he was leaning over the wall to be ill and overbalanced. The wall itself has angled stones along the top and his trouser leg was caught. Clearly, he was in no fit state to walk home (it was nearly a mile along a narrow, dark lane), so we decided we should put him in the spare room for the night.

We managed to get Billy up on his feet, supported by me and Frank on either side. It was difficult but we managed to steer him upstairs to the bedroom. I didn't say anything to my husband and figured that Billy was unaware that his hand was clasping my breast. Somehow it had slipped inside my dressing gown. Worse still; underneath I was wearing a flimsy nightie (you already know why). While trying to lift the inebriated Billy from the floor, the strap had slipped off my shoulder and my breast had fallen out. I didn't think anything of it until we moved crab-wise through the front door. As Frank stepped up, Billy's arm moved down -- and slid inside.

By the time we got to the bedroom I was sure that Billy was unconsciously squeezing my breast. The tingling told me that the nipple was hard. I think that Frank thought that I was struggling with the weight, but it was actually the arousal that was making me woozy.

We dropped him onto the bed and Frank said, "His clothes are sopping wet. We're going to have to undress him".

As if that was going to help my sexual state! The thought of taking the clothes off a handsome young man would get any heterosexual woman going. Alas, once we had got him down to his dark blue underpants, Frank suggested that I should go and get dried off. "I think I'll have a shower," I told him.

"Good idea. I think I'll have one after you."

"Why not with me?" I thought.

I didn't spend too long in the bathroom, figuring that Frank might ask awkward questions. When I went back into the bedroom I had a towel wrapped around me. I vaguely hoped that Frank might want to remove it, but he was preoccupied.

"My turn," he said.

As he walked out of the room I called out to him, "Frank, I was just wondering, did you put Billy in the recovery position?"

"Um... no. Do you think we should?"

"Yes I do! Don't worry, you go and have a shower and I'll see to him." It never ceases to amaze me that people know so little about first aid. I've always kept myself up to date and am a qualified First Responder.

Billy was laying on his back with the covers pulled up over him. I got a momentary surging thrill as I reached for the covers, but it was nothing compared to the one I got when I pulled them aside. It was only the second penis that I had ever seen; it wasn't entirely engorged, but even so it was an impressive size, both in length and girth.