Falling for Jennifer Ch. 02

*

"I was very sorry to hear of your mother's death, Miss Griffiths."

Jen gave the Priest a little smile. She had always felt uncomfortable around him, but he seemed sincere enough, and Lord knows, there was no one else to talk to as the only other two people had left.

Father Tobias's dark eyes were watching her and she felt compelled to reply. "That's kind of you to say, Father." She glanced around the room, at the plates of uneaten food and the empty chairs. "I'm surprised so few people accepted our invitation to the wake - there were so many at the funeral, I would have expected a few more."

"Ah, well, people are busy, Miss Griffiths." He rotated his head to look around the room, and she saw that his clerical collar was too big. She was reminded of a turtle rotating its scrawny neck through the carapace of its shell. "And where would your brother be?" he asked.

"He offered to take Mrs Williams home."

John Tobias smiled. He new that the old widow lived a good half hour away, which gave him plenty of time. He leaned forward to close the gap between himself and the girl. She was still wearing a black dress of mourning, but even that couldn't hide the luscious swell of her breasts or the firm voluptuousness of her body. She had a direct manner about her, too, and he knew instinctively that she would be good in bed. No wonder her brother was porking her.

"There is a little matter I need to discuss with you - ah, Jennifer."

"Certainly, Father. Perhaps you could help me to tidy up while you do." She lifted a plate of sandwiches and walked through to the kitchen, setting them on the table and moving to the sink to wash up.

He followed her, watching the curtain of her hair as it brushed against the creamy white skin of her neck. She had her back to him and he stood close enough to smell the fragrance of her perfume and to see the outline of her bra straps through the material of her dress. He could feel himself getting hard. "It's about your relationship with your brother," he said.

Jennifer stopped what she was doing and turned around slowly. He was very close but her back was to the sink and she could not move. She tried to keep her tone calm. "What do you mean, Father?"

"I mean that you are having carnal knowledge of one another."

The shock of his words was like a punch to the belly, and it robbed her of coherent words. She stood before him, mesmerized by his black eyes, like a snake before a charmer. She felt his hands reach up to grasp her shoulders and his words poured into her senses like a tide of warm molasses, so thick and cloying that she could not move.

"You see, your mother told me, Jennifer...what she saw, and what it meant. You and David, your brother. It killed her, you know." He saw her shake her head in denial, her face white and strained. "Yes, yes, it did. I was there." He gripped her shoulders more tightly. "It killed her, and it will turn everyone else against you too.

"But I didn't - we didn't..."

Father John laughed. "Oh, but you did! In the garden, in your bed..." he looked around the room. "Even in here, Jennifer, bent over the sink while he took you." He saw from her eyes that it was true. "She wrote it all down in a signed affidavit," he lied. "Do you want people to see it? Do you want everyone to know?"

She stared at him without speaking, shocked beyond words. "Do you realise what will happen to you if they do?" he said, "the headlines in the papers, destroying your life. Your friends laughing at you, shunning you, work colleagues whispering poison behind your back. You'll lose your job - there'll be nothing for you....and then the Police will come. It will mean shame and ruin, Jennifer. Is that what you want?"

She stared up at him, her eyes huge in her face, and she shook her head.

"I can help you. I can take that all away. Your life will still be the same." He could see the hope flare in her eyes, and he spoke earnestly, watching the play of expressions on her face. "You cannot keep on with your brother - you must look to another relationship. I can help you, Jennifer. I can teach you how to love another and we can keep this a secret, just you and me - but you must do anything I ask."

"I'll do anything."

He smiled. It was so easy. "Then come to the Rectory tomorrow after lunch. Just you, alone."

For a moment he thought she would refuse but then she nodded, a little bob of he head. Her eyes were on his face and he could see her lips trembling. He felt a surge of power at his control over her, and the thought that she would soon be his. His cock hardened rapidly as he imagined what he could do to her slim, golden body. He slid his hands over her shoulders, cupping her face, feeling the warm velvet of her skin under his fingertips. Her mouth was slightly open and her grey eyes were on his, mesmerized. He fancied he could feel her sexual energy crackling and buzzing through his fingers and the thought of possessing her swept away the last vestiges of his control. He seized her neck and pulled her close, thrusting his hips forward to rub his engorged member against her pubis, and he pressed his lips over hers.

For just a moment Jennifer was too surprised to act, then with an explosive grunt she flung him backwards with a powerful thrust of her arms. He stumbled back, crashing into the table, and he lost his balance and fell heavily on to the floor.

"You dirty little pervert!" Her voice was harsh, stabbing into his ears like shards of glass. "You dirty little prick! Do you think for one moment I'd go with you?!" In three steps she was beside him, leaning down towards his startled face. "Do you think you can offer me a relationship, you shit! All you want is to put your pious little prick in me!" She stepped back. "Get out! Get out of my house!"

Father John scrabbled to his feet and backed away, watching her. He smoothed down the rumbled material of his cassock and adjusted his collar where it had become dislodged. She was breathing heavily - he could see her breasts moving up and down and suddenly a wave of burning anger seized him at the thought of what he was being denied.

"You little cunt! Do you think you have any choice?" The measured tones of the Priest were gone and his voice was harsh and ugly. "Make sure you screw your brother tonight, you bitch, because it will be the last time! I'll make you an outcast and your poxy life will be a living hell!" His face was twisted in hatred and flecks of spittle flew from his mouth as the foul words poured out. "One day you'll crawl to me and beg for forgiveness, you slut!" He laughed, a high pitched giggle, and thrust his face forward towards her. "And I'll fling you back in the gutter with all the other whores I rejected!"

He turned and left the room, the door swinging behind him, and Jen sank down on one of the kitchen chairs. His words rang in her ears like the tolling of a funeral bell: 'It will mean shame and ruin, Jennifer', and although he was nothing but a sick little turd she knew that they were true. The long, frantic nights with David were no longer a secret, and she knew that if the Priest did nothing else he would make it his business to destroy her. And so she held her face in her hands and wept - bitter tears from the well of her soul for a mother lost and a reputation shattered, and for a brother's love that she knew in her heart could never be sustained.

In the morning Jen found the word "Whore" painted on the garage door, and the letter box vandalized, and she understood that it had started.

*****

David Montgomery Griffiths watched with hooded eyes as his latest date climbed over him. She was a small girl but perfectly proportioned, with a trim waist and firm round breasts capped by surprisingly big nipples. She was also very pretty but there was a hardness around her mouth and eyes that seemed out of place in one so young. He felt her little hand grasp his cock, engaging it against the warm wet lips of her vulva, and he saw the curtain of her hair swing down over her face as she bent forward to better see what she was doing.

She lowered her hips and grunted as the head of his cock popped into her, and she held the position for a few moments before removing her hand and gradually impaling herself onto his shaft. They both watched as it skewered into her body, and she gave another little grunt of satisfaction as his heat reached up into her belly.

"Ah, ah!" She wriggled a little bit to adjust to his size, then looked at him with her bright smiling eyes. "Why, Mr Griffiths - that's good! Were you planning to make a deposit tonight, Sir?"

David laughed at the little game she was playing. Sophie was a junior accountant in the finance department of his company and although he was far senior to her, he knew that she was unfazed by rank. They had been out for coffee once or twice and then a dinner date, and this was their first time in bed.

"A sizeable one, Miss Andrews. Can you handle that for me?"

"Of course, Mr Griffiths! I have just the right size deposit box for you." She looked into his face and giggled. "Actually, it feels a little too small."

She began to move gently, her thighs flexing to raise and lower her torso on his cock. She was right - it was deliciously tight, but he could see her cream beginning to coat his shaft as she moved, easing the friction between them. He loved girls that were prolific in their juices, and Sophie promised to have a great deal. He lifted his hands and fondled her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples until they swelled like ripe raspberries, and she tilted her head back and groaned at his touch.

"Ah, that's good."

"Tell me what you like, Sophie."

"I like what you're doing."

"Tell me what you feel, then."

She began to gyrate her hips whilst still raising and lowering herself. Each time she lifted his shaft was exposed, shiny with her juices, sliding out until only the purple glans was embedded in her. She had shaved her pussy and her lips were visible as they grasped the intruder - and she would hold herself there for a few moments before hunkering down to accept him into her body again.

"I can feel you right up inside me....sort of pressing against something...and then -" she lifted herself, gripping his shaft with her vaginal muscles as he withdrew "- I can feel you sliding out...the ridges - your cock head." She looked down again as his glans appeared. "Look, look, David - look at our juice." His bell-end was coated with her cream, and as they watched a dribble of it trickled over the swollen purple flesh. "I've always been wet, but you seem to bring the best out of me." She giggled at the double meaning.

"I love it." David reached forward and scooped some onto his fingertips and pressed it to his mouth. "Ummm. That's good."

Sophie laughed. "You like that, do you? Well, here's some more." She lifted herself off his cock and swung her torso forward to present her pussy to his face. David plunged his mouth over her vulva, his tongue wriggling between her lips to enter into her body. He could taste the sweetness of her juices, as thick and tart as yoghurt.

She was wriggling on his face, her eyes closed in pleasure. "Oh, yes! Ah, just like that. Fuck it with your mouth!" Her thighs were pressed against his cheeks, the flesh smooth and warm, and he could smell the animal musk of her arousal. She was moving against him, undulating her cunt over his face and he could feel her lips squashed against his and her juices coating his mouth and chin. He began to rub the soft inner flesh of his top lip against her clitoris whilst he thrust his tongue in and out, and she trembled against him.

"Oh, yes...Christ, don't stop! Ah, ah, yes David!"

She was like a river, her juice pouring over his chin...sweet cunt juice, nectar on his lips. She trembled against him, becoming frantic as she reached up for the first climax. "Ah, I'm coming, David. Fuck, fuck, oh yessssss -" and her pussy contracted violently in orgasm, ejecting a warm jet of fluid into his mouth as she ground herself against his face. His head was against the pillow with nowhere to go and for a moment he felt he was drowning in cunt, her lips and the warm wet discharge seeming to envelop his whole head; and then she fell free, her tight little buttocks resting on his chest and her eyes bright with lust.

"Fuck me, David," she whispered.

"I will, I will." He pushed her aside and scrabbled to his feet, lifting her on the mattress so she was kneeling before him. She thrust her bottom upwards and opened her thighs, pressing her face to the sheet. Her sex was pushed back and the lips were parted so he could see the succulent wet flesh of her insides. He could see the cream still inside her too, nestling between her lips like the cream in an eclair, and with a groan of lust he stooped down and lapped at her - long, flat strokes over her vulva to draw out her juices, thick as clotted cream his tongue, then onwards to her perineum and the tight, crinkled little bud of her anus. Lapping, lapping, hearing the snuffling sounds of his mouth on her cunt and the thin cries of her pleasure.

And then he was fucking her, pressing the great swollen head of his cock through the wet open lips of her cunt, sliding down through her pelvic girdle into her belly: long, thick strokes, hot and wet and delicious. Long, long strokes into her little body, watching her wriggling as he fucked her...watching her hands gripping the sheets, fluttering like dying birds as the incredible pleasure washed over her: fucking, fucking, sliding his burning knob deeper and deeper into her body until he felt the seeds of his own orgasm building, and he seized her hips and held her tight in that infinitesimal trembling moment of ecstasy whilst his sperm raced up the long shaft like hot magma from the centre of the earth.

Sophie rode his final strokes like a little boat in a storm, and she felt him suddenly stop and seize her hips. Her consciousness slowed, like a clock that is suddenly run at one tenth of the speed: she felt the bulbous head of his cock swelling like a balloon filling with water, and she imagined the cone of her cervix pressing against the end to block the seething tide of his sperm - and then she felt it burst inside her: the first scalding jet splattering deep in her body. Her pussy contracted violently, clasping David's shaft and milking it with hard, rhythmic contractions - sucking long jets of his seed from him. She heard him moaning, grunting as he ejaculated, and she felt his emissions filling her. She looked between her legs and perceived his balls jerking and twitching as they emptied, and she saw that she was indeed full and his sperm was leaking from her vulva to dribble and splatter over the rumpled sheets beneath her.

And after a million years their bodies stopped twitching and he withdrew his shaft, slick and shiny with their juices and he flopped down beside her. Sophie brushed the comma of hair back from his forehead and smiled at him. She wondered why he was still single, and why all of the girls from the bank who had shared his bed talked of him as a lonely, troubled guy who could not commit to more than a night or two of pleasure. She felt the warmth of his seed in her body and the tenderness of her sex where his pubic bone had battered it. She saw the little boy lost look in his eyes and she drew his head to her breasts and cradled him, awash with a post-coital tenderness. I'll be the one, she thought. I'll be the one who brings him back from whatever troubles his soul, and she brushed her fingers over his face like those of a lover.

David lay in the arms of this faceless girl and thought of his sister, just as he had on every day for the last ten years, and he thought his heart would burst with the pain of longing. Nothing had ever been the same since she had gone, and he knew that nothing would. The transient moments of pleasure like those of tonight were only pinpricks of light in a world of grey and black, and he knew that he must do more to find her. The letter he had sent had done nothing, and tomorrow he would try even harder to find her.

His mind spiraled back to the moment when it had all come tumbling down, and they had said goodbye for the last time in that God-forsaken little hovel they had called home.

*****

"I don't think I can go on, David. The Priest was right."

They were lying in their mother's bed - a move insisted by David as it was bigger than either of theirs, but she had never felt comfortable here and her lovemaking had lost its spontaneity because of it. It was difficult to be uninhibited when everything around you was seeped in her memory.

David was angry. "That little bastard! I ought to go to the Rectory and give him something to remember!"

Jen smiled a little at his words. "That's what he wanted me to do."

"I know. Fucking little pervert!"

"I hear that he's over at Mary McGuire's place a lot, when her hubby's not there."

"Really?" David pushed himself up on one elbow to look at her face with interest. "Where did you hear that?"

Jen shrugged. "Round and about. You know what this place is like - full of people with nothing better to do than gossip!" Her voice was bitter.

"I ought to phone the Bishop and tell him what his boy is getting up to."

"Then you would be no better than him."

David shrugged and sank back to the mattress. He had been touching Jen's breast and his fingers resumed that task, brushing lightly over the round creamy globe. He didn't expect to get anywhere, though - she seemed to be too tired to do it much anymore.

"How are things in the village, Jen?"

She shrugged. "No better. I go to the bank and the tellers close just as I get to the front of the queue. It's the same with the supermarket, too, and the woman at the Chemist told me the other day that she didn't want me in the shop any more because I was driving away the older customers." She laughed, a bitter mocking sound. "And I didn't tell you that they've changed my job, did I?"

David sat up again. "No. What's happened?"

"Mr Randall called me into the office. He suggested that I needed a change from the front desk and that he'd decided to give me a research position in the office at the back. I asked him why...he was so embarrassed. He eventually said that people were complaining about me...they were staying away from the shop." She glanced at him. "Not surprisingly, it's less money."

"Isn't that illegal? Discrimination, or something?"

"So who's going to care, David? If I tried to hire Sneddon he'd probably tell me to get fucked." Sneddon was the local lawyer, known for his colourful language outside of the courtroom. Her voice suddenly cracked. "I don't think there's a single person in this whole fucking village who would give me a moment of their time."

But she was mistaken. There were people in the village who were prepared to give her lots of their time - even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

*

There were four of them, and they were waiting for her. They'd been in the local pub since early afternoon and like everyone else had heard about the little tart in Willis Street who was fucking her brother, and who was a disgrace to the village. And so, fired up with alcohol and bravado they made a plan and they all laughed and agreed, for if they didn't teach her a lesson, who would? They knew that every Wednesday she attended the Pilates class in the village hall and would walk home by herself, cutting through the little park just by the graveyard, and so they waited in the shadows for her to arrive.

The gazebo was set back from the main pathway and surrounded by trees and they sprawled on its steps drinking from a bottle of Jim Beam and giggling, their nervousness a palpable thing. One of them was outside the hall with the mobile phone to warn them she was coming, and so they waited and they drank to sustain their bravado: for it was one thing to talk about it but another to do it. The things they needed were behind them on the cold concrete floor - the ropes and the knives and the pillow and the bucket, and there was nothing to do but wait and drink, and laugh at the thought of what was coming.