Jenna Gives up Sex for Lent Ch. 01

It was the last Sunday of Shrovetide, known as Quinquagesima. At St. Michael's Church, Reverend Morris had amassed a pile of old palm crosses, intending to burn them on Ash Wednesday.

"Shouldn't be long before the first members of the faithful arrive," he said to his wife Jenna, who was adjusting the flowers at the side of the pulpit.

"Oh before I forget, I've got something for you to burn on Ash Wednesday," she smiled, handing him a pair of her panties.

"This is an unusual-looking palm cross!" He replied. "I think I'd better burn this separately from the others! Is there some reason why you want your undies reduced to ash?"

"Well Simon, I've been thinking. And I've finally decided what I'm going to give up for Lent."

"You're giving up wearing underwear?"

"Haha. Tempting, but no. I'm giving up sex."

Reverend Morris almost dropped the box full of crosses. "What? Sex? No, you can't be serious!"

Jenna nodded. "I'm 100% serious, my love. Lent is supposed to be hard, and you're always going on about how part of being a good Christian is making sacrifices and so on. It's traditionally a time of fasting and abstaining from something to repent and focus our hearts and minds on the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ."

"Yes, but within reason, Jen! I don't expect you to suffer hardship as bad as that!"

"I can do it, Simon. I'm committed to seeing it through. It's only forty days."

"B-but...that's six weeks!" the vicar whined, looking as if his entire world was about to end. "I...I'm not sure I can, er...go without for so long!"

"Now Simon, you're a man of God. You're stronger than most. I know you can do this. And just think how wonderful it will be when Easter comes...everything in calf...bursting out in spring glory, sap rising, mating seasons beginning, shoots thrusting upwards, days getting longer..."

"Vicars dying of horniness..." Reverend Morris sighed.

"Exactly. And it won't just be you going without. The other chaps of this church will have to go without as well!"

"Oh my goodness, Jenna. There's going to be a lot of frustration building up in this church! When you say no sex, does that mean..."

"No physical contact whatsoever, my dearest! No blowjobs, no kissing, no cock in pussy...nada! Just like social distancing."

Reverend Morris' lip was trembling. "Not even a kiss?"

"Nope. I'll be sleeping in the spare bedroom until Easter. I can blow you a kiss. And whilst we can't do anything involving physical contact, there are other naughty ways we can get through Lent."

"Like what?"

"Use your imagination, Simon!"

He thought for a moment. "So I'll have to make do with dating Rosie Palms until Easter?"

"If it helps you cope, yes!"

The reverend took a deep breath. "You're absolutely right, Jenna. I can get through this. I admire you so much for deciding to have a sex ban. In fact, I think I love you even more, and I didn't think that possible!"

"Aww. Ditto." She kissed him. "We'll make the most of Shrove Tuesday," she added, with a wink. "I'm going to do some creative things with pancakes."

He slipped his arms around her. "Remember that morning after the Candlemas service, when we got soaking wet in the rain and we just ravished each other once we got back to the vicarage?"

"Heehee, yes. Or that time last month during that short holiday in Lincolnshire when we stayed in that weird hotel...and the ghost gatecrashed our passion?"

"Bit early in the morning for that, isn't it? Then again, I'm not complaining!" A voice shouted, and they both looked round. Gordon the organist had just arrived.

Moments later, Josh the curate appeared.

"Morning guys!" Jenna smiled. She turned back to her husband. "You'd better get your robes on. Looks like some of the congregation are here already. I'll go and hand out some hymn books."

He nodded and headed off to the vestry. "Forty days," he sighed. "God....I will really need your help through this difficult time!"

And just how were some of the other male members of St. Michael's Church going to cope for forty days without any 'spiritual guidance' from the vicar's wife?

On Shrove Tuesday, Jenna spent all afternoon mixing pancake batter. It would've been quicker to buy some ready-made pancakes from Tesco, but where was the fun in that? She looked at the kitchen wall clock.

"Come on Simon, you're late. How long does a meeting with the Bishop take?"

Her husband had been out all day. At last, she heard his car pull up on the drive.

"Good. Now the fun begins."

The front door opened and Reverend Morris came rushing in. "Sorry I've been so long. Bishop George kept prattling on for ages and then coming back home there's been a road accident so I had to take the long way home...oh I see you've been busy!" He noticed his wife was completely naked except for an apron.

"Welcome home," she smirked. "It's time to flip some pancakes. Is my randy reverend able to provide some batter?"

He licked his lips. "What sort of batter would you be requiring?"

"Hmm, let's see. That special 'anointing oil' you used during my 21st birthday?" She whirled a frying pan in her hand and flipped a pancake. "Here's one I prepared earlier."

His hands found her shoulders, and turned her to face him. His hands moved up to cup her face and Jenna felt his lips close around hers in a tender kiss. She returned it with rising passion, slipping her tongue into his mouth. As their tongues danced, Jenna quickly unfastened her apron, letting it slide down over her smooth skin to the kitchen floor.

She could hear Reverend Morris unfastening his own garments, and when he embraced her tightly, she felt his bare skin press against hers with delicious warmth. Her husband's mouth left her lips, trailing down her neck to her chest. He took a nipple in his mouth and teased the erect tip. It was perhaps the upcoming sex ban enhancing his senses, but Jenna's breasts had never felt so full, and had never tasted so sweet. His hands roamed down over her arse, savouring her curves.

Reverend Morris moved back up her body, his lips playing over her breasts, then back up her neck. Jenna's hands slid down his chest and at last reached their goal. She gripped his throbbing member, took a few steps backward, pulling gently but firmly, and he promptly followed her. She felt the edge of the kitchen countertop meet her lower back, and she swiftly heaved herself on to the cool granite surface and lay back, spreading her legs.

Reverend Morris had a sudden urge to taste his wife; his tongue met with her soft skin just above her clit, then down into her folds, tasting, discovering and exploring all that she had to offer. He began to suck and lick her clit. How he loved to worship at this altar.

Jenna reached for the bowl of pancake batter. A wooden spoon was sticking out of the bowl. Without hesitation, she began spooning the batter down her breasts.

"It tastes alright," she murmured, placing a blob of batter on her husband's nose. "But it needs an extra ingredient..."

"Mmm, I think I can help you there."

"Fuck me religiously, darling." Jenna said hoarsely.

A pair of strong, silky legs wrapped around the vicar's arse. He lowered himself onto her and felt those glorious batter-coated breasts rub against his chest as he began thrusting into her. He tried to set a steady, leisurely pace to begin, but the legs around him urged him on faster and harder. Reverend Morris responded with enthusiasm, and within moments he was pounding into his wife with all his strength, mindful that after tonight he wouldn't be able to do this for six weeks.

"Yes...yes...oh my God yes...I've never felt anything like it!" Jenna moaned.

"Bloody hell...I'm coming...oh Jenna!" Reverend Morris yelled as his stream of hot cum filled up her pussy and flowed back out onto the kitchen countertop.

Jenna lay back on the countertop, eyes closed. It was several minutes before her breathing had calmed enough for her to speak.

"Did I provide enough batter?" Reverend Morris asked.

"Your holy offering was more than generous!"

"Forty days without from this moment on. You've still time to change your mind."

"I'm sticking to it, Simon. We'll get through Lent. We'll have to think up some creative contactless ways to get our rocks off."

The smell of burning interrupted them. They both glanced at the stove. To Jenna's dismay, the pancake she'd been cooking had been virtually cremated in the frying pan.

"Oh dear," she said, gazing at the remains of the pancake, which now resembled a lump of coal.

"Now that's what I call a perfect burnt offering for Ash Wednesday!" Reverend Morris replied.