Jenna and the Church Trip Ch. 02

As the minibus exited the M180 motorway and drew near to its destination, tall pines crowded the sides of a long main road. They formed a grey-green tunnel, casting long shadows in the late-afternoon light. The day was cloudless yet strangely forbidding, Reverend Morris mused.

"Well the weather's a lot better than it was this morning!" Jenna said, knocking her husband out of his thoughts. "The land sure is flat round here. No hills anywhere."

"I think some parts of the Fens are below sea level," Reverend Morris said. "The highest point is Wold's Top. Lots of beautiful areas for walking and such, shame we haven't the time to explore the Wolds. Oh well, there'll be other times. I'm looking forward to getting off this bus and stretching my legs, though!"

A road sign appeared. Epworth, 2 miles.

A few houses were tucked in the purple gloom among the trees on both sides of the road; their windows glowed with soft yellow light even an hour before nightfall. Most were Georgian-era red brick cottages with terracotta roof tiles.

The Parson's Knob was a 3 storey building dating back to the 1690s. Once a coaching inn, it had gone through various occupations before being converted into a hotel. As the minibus pulled onto the car park, a peculiar sense of wrongness immediately overcame Reverend Morris. He could not identify the reasons for his instant negative reaction to the place, though perhaps it was related to the sombre interplay of light and shadow caused by the tall conifers encircling the car park. At this dying end of the January day, in the cheerless sunlight, the white painted exterior of the building gleamed as if built from time-bleached bones. The shadows cast by the trees were stark, spiky, razor-edged.

Exiting the minibus, the small group made their way into the hotel. There was no-one at the reception desk.

"Ah, typical British service," Gordon muttered to Barry. "Non-existent."

As the group waited for a member of staff to arrive, Reverend Morris paused to study the other guests in the lounge. Not many were there, four or five people, mostly middle-aged. They also struck him as wrong, though his reasons for thinking ill of them were less definable than those that fanned his impression of the hotel itself. They looked uneasy, one man wandering around with peculiar air of urgency that seemed unsuited to a old-fashioned hotel such as this.

Reverend Morris sighed and headed back to the reception desk, telling himself that his imagination was running wild.

Gordon, not known for patience, pressed the bell on the reception desk again.

"Does anyone work at this place? We've been stood here for ten minutes!"

Moments a later, an overworked-looking Eastern European woman came hurrying behind the desk.

"I'm so sorry for your wait! We're really short-staffed at the moment. Many workers have gone on strike."

"Makes a change from being absent due to testing positive I suppose," Gordon replied and the vicar pulled a face at him.

"We've only four rooms available, the receptionist replied. "A lot of rooms are...being redecorated. Mr and Mrs Morris, you're in Room 13, which has a double bed." She turned to the others. "Which leaves three rooms, all with two single beds. Someone will have a room of their own, but the other four of you will have to share. Are you gentleman okay with sharing?"

Josh looked at Norman. "That's fine by me."

Gordon looked horrified. "I'm not sharing a room with my cousin. He snores!"

"What? No I don't!" Barry shouted.

"You do. When I was seeing to you over Christmas when you had that broken ankle, you nodded off on the couch and your snoring was that bad, doors were opening and closing."

Ahmed the bus driver attempted to calm the situation. "I don't mind sharing. My wife snores. They can hear her snores in Bradford. I'm used to it though. I just put my wireless earbuds in."

"Okay, thanks, that's sorted then. Mr Leesmith, you get the room of your own then, yes?"

"Suits me!" Gordon smiled. "I prefer a room all to myself."

Jenna smirked. "Unless you have to share a room with a woman...or a pipe organ, right?"

He winked back at her. "You know me so well!"

Barry raised an eyebrow. "Hmm..."

Reverend Morris and Jenna trudged up three flights of stairs to get to the room, seeing as the lift was out of order.

"Good thing we've just got overnight bags instead of heavy suitcases," he said. "I'm not too enamoured with this place so far."

"What do you expect for such a low price though? It could be so much worse. It's dated and badly in need of re-decorating, but it seems clean enough. Cheer up Simon!" Jenna said. Already she was thinking of Gordon, all alone in his room. Maybe I could read him a bedtime story...

"Yep, you're right. Sorry for being such a misery guts today. Not very Christian is it?"

The vicar had arrived with the knowledge that something was rotten there, so of course he saw ominous signs in a perfectly innocent scene.

At least that was what he told himself. But he knew better.

During the wait at the reception desk, he'd overheard two of the guests discussing the hotel. Why had the Albanians left in such a hurry? What was the real reason for the workers going on strike? Reverend Morris had a hunch that the truth, once uncovered, would be unusually disturbing.

Room 13, despite the bad luck associated with such a number, was decent enough - clean, double bed and a view overlooking the River Torne.

"Ooh comfy!" Jenna flopped on the bed. Reverend Morris peered out of the window. To the west, the sun sank through a sky that was slowly turning muddy red. Serpentine tendrils of fog began to rise off the water.

"There's a bit of a disagreeable chill in this room. I suppose it's because this window isn't double glazed." He sat down on the bed, still feeling a dim but persistent sense of unease.

Jenna bit her lip. "Why don't we have some...fun?" She whispered something in her husband's ear and his eyes widened.

"My dear, are you sure?"

She stood up and began loosening her clothing. "Long journeys make me SO horny. What do you think John Wesley would do after a long journey?"

He blinked. "Well, usually, he'd sit reading his Bible..."

"Hmm. In that case, let me lead you into temptation." She removed the last of her clothes.

Reverend Morris immediately had a raging boner. "What a good idea!" The negative thoughts vanished from his mind as his wife began pleasuring herself.

Jenna's eyes were heavy-lidded as she stared at the outline of the reverend's cock, which was presently tenting his black trousers. She lay back on the bed, and her bare foot slowly stroked up the inside of his thigh caressing the bulge of his manhood. Reverend Morris moaned at her sensual touch and thrust his hips instinctively against her foot. He raised her leg, ran his tongue lightly along the sole of her other foot, making her giggle. A low laugh rumbled in his throat as he went back to her toes, kissing each one before working his way up her smooth leg.

"Ohh Simon..."

She murmured his name in a needy whine, spreading her milky thighs further apart as his mouth slowly kissed and licked closer to her core. Unable to resist such an invitation, he settled on his stomach between her legs. He drew his tongue along her hot slit then closed his mouth over it to suck up her sweet juices. Jenna gasped, arching her back. Her husband began to worship her eagerly, her taste inflaming his want. She cried out then, rocking her hips and coming in his mouth. After savouring her juices, Reverend Morris stood up, unzipped his trousers, pulled out his cock and began lazily stroking it. She purred at the sight, sitting up in front of him and wrapping her hand around the base of the shaft.

"Let me bless you."

He moved his hand and allowed her to stroke him. "Mmm, I am blessed in many ways, and eternally thankful!"

"Seeing as this hotel hasn't impressed you, it's up to me to make our stay here memorable." Jenna smiled and crawled in his lap, straddling him. The feeling of having her so close in his arms as she jacked him with her hand was intense because her pussy hovered so close to the head of his cock. Growling, Reverend Morris grasped her arse cheeks. Jenna closed her eyes in joy.

At that point, an unseen presence in the room grew tired of being a mere spectator and decided to join in.

He knelt behind Jenna so that she was sandwiched between the two of them, and began stroking her lower back.

Reverend Morris began caressing her breasts. She let out a little moan at his touch.

Enjoying her reaction, the invisible one moved his right hand down and he very gently used his index finger to massage her arsehole.

"Ooh Simon. That's new, but I like it!"

"What is?"

"Huh?" Jenna opened her eyes and realised both his hands were still on her tits. "I just felt something finger my butthole...ahhh!"

Arching her back and squeezing her husband's cock with her hand, she uttered a breathy scream.

"Simon...I think there's a ghost in here!" Jenna whimpered in response as the unseen presence put firm pressure on her rosebud. "Ahh...he's fingering my arse!"

"I can't see anyone," Reverend Morris moaned, desperate to feel the tight walls of Jenna's sex engulf him. "Maybe John Wesley's come looking for you?" He shifted his hips so the head of his aching shaft was nestled at her entrance.

"I'm being serious here!"

Someone continued to stroke her arsehole, gradually putting more pressure until the tip of his finger was inside.

"Mmm yes," Reverend Morris sighed, too under the spell of arousal to care.

Jenna sighed in pleasure, steadily lowering herself onto her husband's cock. The unseen one pushed his finger a little bit further inside her tight anal passage. Jenna let out a surprised squeak of pleasure and wiggled her hips until he was fully embedded inside of her....his finger and her husband's cock now filling her sweet holes.

Reverend Morris moaned as he intensified his strokes, plunging his cock in and out of her pussy. Jenna cried out in delight at this and then the unseen one's finger pressed deeper still and suddenly she was coming again. Her clenching walls coupled with an invisible finger embedded in her arse created a tightness around Reverend Morris' dick beyond anything he thought possible and with the first compression of her orgasm around his cock, a low whine escaped his throat and he came, filling her with his seed.

The unknown entity carefully withdrew his finger from Jenna's arse. There was no time for her to catch her breath.

She murmured, as her husband moved away, stroking his softening cock. Suddenly, something slid up her arse, thrusting gently to begin with. She was surprised that it didn't hurt at all. She'd never experienced anal before but had read it could be extremely painful. And without lube...well that didn't bear thinking about!

"Ahha...ha...who are you...what are you?" Jenna panted.

The invisible presence shot a massive load of cum deep inside her arse and she closed her eyes tight. He pulled out, and Jenna panted, sweat running off her and cum oozing out of both orifices...

"Oohhh," Jenna gasped, flopping forward. A yell of terror from her husband finally brought her to her senses.

"Oh my God!"

"What's wrong, Simon?"

"There! There!" His eyes were wide with fright and he was pointing. "Behind you! Who...what is THAT? He's got no head!"

Jenna looked round. He was dressed in black. A white collar. The unmistakable clothing of a Cromwellian-era preacher. And was completely without a head.

"A headless ghost has just had anal sex with me," Jenna blinked. "I'm...kind of okay with this. I had a threesome with my vicar husband and a ghost. Is that a holy trinity or an unholy one?"

Reverend Morris twitched and fainted.

"What a shame you can't talk," Jenna said, standing before him. "I wonder who you are? Did I please you? If I did, maybe you could bow?"

The headless ghost bowed and vanished.

"Aww. Well he seemed satisfied." She rushed over to her husband, who was staggering to his feet. "It's alright Simon. He's gone."

"I didn't just imagine all that did I?" Reverend Morris groaned, sitting on the bed. "We just...encountered a headless ghost?"

"Oh he was real alright. He came in my arse!"

"Are you sure you okay? Did he..it hurt you?"

"I'm fine! Was a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one."

"Hmm, I think we should say a prayer for that lost soul," Reverend Morris replied. "I wouldn't like to think he'll return later tonight."

"Oh I don't think he will," Jenna smiled. "He was just horny and he is satisfied now. He bowed at me before he disappeared."

"I guess that explains why those Albanians begged to be transferred to the Travelodge! The travel agent never said anything about this place being haunted. No wonder its half-empty!"

Later...

It was around five minutes after midnight. In Room 11, Gordon was tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. Despite wearing nothing but his vest and y-fronts, he was boiling hot, and sweat was running down his brow.

"God, this room's like a furnace!" He groaned, throwing the duvet off and switching the bedside lamp on. He staggered over to the radiator. It was as cold as ice.

"Why's it so hot in here? Hope I'm not coming down with flu or something."

Gordon made his way into the bathroom and fumbled around for the light pull cord. Intending to splash his face with cold water, he hurriedly turned the washbasin tap, but instead of water, black powder shot out of it.

"What the fuck?" He squinted at the stuff. "Looks like soil. A right dump this place is.

A curious smoky smell met his nose. There was something familiar about the smell - it reminded him of fireworks. Hearing faint laughter, Gordon looked in the mirror.

"Bloody hell!"

Ahmed and Barry were rudely awakened by a furious banging on the bedroom door.

"What the?" Barry groaned, getting out of bed. "Who can that be? Almost knocking the door down!"

"Might be a drunk or a crackhead," Ahmed said. "Don't open the door. They usually get bored and go bother someone else.

"Barry! Barry! Let me in!" Gordon yelled.

Barry opened the door and was almost knocked over as Gordon dashed in.

"Can I sleep here? I have to sleep in here!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down. What's happened?" Barry said.

"Can I sleep here?" Gordon prattled. The colour had drained from his face.

"There's no spare bed."

"Do you think I care about that?" Gordon yelled, grabbing his cousin by the front of his pyjamas. "I'll sleep on the floor! I can't go back to that room! Oh my God. I've just had the shock of my life!"

"Did someone break into your room?" Ahmed asked.

"Break in? Not much chance of stopping a ghost from breaking in is there? My bloody room is haunted!"