tagExhibitionist & VoyeurThe Vicar of St. Dunstan's Ep. 07

The Vicar of St. Dunstan's Ep. 07

byNigel Debonnaire©


Another slice of life at St. Dunstan's; for background, please consult the previous episodes Last in a flock of four. Feedback welcome.

"Father, you've got to help us. You're the only one we trust, and we want to save our marriage. Please, Vicar, please."

I sat back in my chair as I regarded Percy Witson and his wife Peggy. Percy is a handyman in the area, doing a lot of odd jobs around the Parish and working with his buddy Stan Dover he made enough to get by. Peggy is a receptionist for a local surgery, her hours are regular. They're both around thirty and have been married for ten years, have no children and their relationship was deteriorating. Percy's nose was on the large side and his eyes bugged out, and Peggy's nose was very small and her eyes deep set; both would be called rather plain. Average height and weight, not extremely beautiful, but not repulsive; good hearted dependable people who could once be called the bedrock of the Empire.

Why did they come to me? My marriage hadn't worked, and most of the happy couples I knew, like my classmates Terry and Gerry in Chicago, were so natural together that I believed fate destined them for each other and nothing could pry them apart. There were things from my parent's relationship I could probably use, as well as my training from Seabury Seminary in Chicago, but I felt so inadequate to help Percy and Peggy. The only reason I could justify for trying is they were simple people who thought I was a holy man, and they probably wouldn't accept a referral to a marriage counselor.

"All right, Percy, Peggy, I'll do what I can, but you'll have to trust me even if I ask you to do some things you think are silly."

Peggy leaned forward. "Of course, Father. I'm willing to do anything to save my marriage."

"All right, maybe the first thing to do is find out where you are now. Percy, what do you find most affirming about Peggy?"

"What's affirming mean?"

"He means something that makes you feel good about yourself, you daft man."

"Oh. Well, she does the washing regular."

"I see. Peggy, what do you find most affirming about Percy."

"He brings home his checks."

"Good, good," I said, while my mind went into overdrive. My God, what's holding these people together, habit? Well, got to try the dark side. I took a deep breath and said: "Well, what do you find most challenging about Peggy, Percy?" He put his hand on his mouth to think, and before Peggy could help me, I helped myself: "What is it that bothers you most about Peggy?"

"Where do I begin? I have to say that she always seems to think I should be somebody else."

"Ooo, that's a surprise. I'd have said that his problem is that I never what to shag him when he wants to shag."

"And what to you find most challenging about Percy?"

"He never wants to shag."

"That's not fair, I gave you a good shag a month ago, nearly wore myself out and fell asleep at work next day."

"Some shag it was; I could have watched Telly while you were shagging me and been just as entertained."

"Well, who do you want in your bed, Pierce Brosnan?"

"Stephen Fry would be more stimulating than you."

"Stop, stop, for the love of God, stop," I cried out. They were looking at each other with fire in their eyes, and I was afraid I'd lose them before we could even get started. "It's almost like you two have to start all over again. Starting over in some ways would be a better idea. All right, you've got to learn how to talk to each other, communication is the main thing."

Percy gave me a dubious look. "Can we learn in fifteen minutes, Vicar? I've got to be at work soon, and Peg's got to be at the office as well."

"All right, let's do a little bit per day, let's try it that way. When you get home tonight, I want you to talk to each other, but no one is allowed to say anything negative. If don't can't say anything nice, don't say anything. Not that you shouldn't talk; just don't talk about things that will start an argument. Can you do that?"

"Sure, Vicar," Peggy said, "We can do that."

"Yea, Vic. We'll give it a try."

"Great, come around tomorrow at the same time and tell me how you did. Have a great day." They left, and I put my head in my hands. Monday included a Diocesan Planning Commission, which was an exercise in futility, and a crabby old rag and bone man ranted in my office for two straight hours in the afternoon about how the country was going to pot before asking for a handout. I checked his background and found out he was a fraud, and tossed him out gladly. Scotch made the evening bearable.

The next day, they filed into my office solemnly. I sat at my desk and looked at them; they looked at me. At last I said: "How's it going?"

"All right, Vic," Percy said.

"Yeah, all right," Peggy added.

"How did things go at home last night?"

"Peg made a roast that was all right, boiled potato, carrots. I ate it all up."

"Percy took the trash out to the dustbin."

"Yes, and we talked, Vicar."

"We talked."

More silence hung heavily in my study. "Well, what did you talk about?"

"Well, we talked about the weather."

"There's a new show on the Telly tomorrow, with Ardal O'Hanlon, we talked about watching it."

"He's dead funny, Vic. We both laugh at Ardal no matter what he's in, he's so goofy."

"Did you talk about politics, what's happening in Parliament?"

Peggy sat straight up in her chair. "We're both Tories, Vic, and Labour is ruining this country, Tony Blair is an evil man."

"Oh yes, Vic, things have been dreadful since Tony Blair went in. He's such a puppy dog around the President of the United States, and we used to be an independent. . ."

"All right, all right, you agree on your politics." I interrupted. That's one hot topic I can cross off my list. "How about money? Are you doing all right with finances."

"We're hanging in there, Vic," Peggy said, ."We'll be better off when that Tony Blair goes back to his rabbit hole, but we pay the bills, put away a bit for a rainy day, and have a little for play."

"Oh yes, Vic. I only go down to the Pub once or twice a week, and I don't gamble much. Peg is a thrifty lass and we don't need posh stuff around the house. She has her dolls from her mum she likes, and we're content."

All right, cross another hot topic off the list. Maybe it's the family, that might be it. "How's your folks, Percy."

"Oh fine, fine. They moved to Mallorca a couple of years ago, so we hardly see them."

"Percy's folks are good people; I've always enjoyed me time with Mrs. Witson, and Percy gets along great with his dad."

"Her dad is long gone, and her mum is no bother, Vicar. Peg's mum could live with us if she had to, no problem, I'm happy."

"But you're not happy. You agree on a lot of things that break people apart: politics, money, family. What do you have problems with?"

"Dunno, Vic. Sometimes I wish she'd be a better Christian and obey me a bit more, ya

know, like the Bible says. I get frustrated."

"And why should I obey him? He's a decent bloke but he's got no ambition. Ten years ago he was an eager beaver, always on the make, always trying to better himself. Now, puh, he's turning into another slob like Harry Hazelton or Bert Button. Besides, the Bible also says you should challenge the fool in his folly."

"Those men are not slobs, they are respectable men who deserve our respect for living a long and productive life. They need their rest, and their wives do well to keep from bothering them."

I clapped me hands to get their attention. "I think you need a change of scene. When you're at home, you tend to get stuck in the same topics, same attitudes. A nice meal out can help. There's a nice little place a couple of blocks away called Crimini's; an Italian place, good food, good atmosphere. Try to recapture a little romance in your life, let the violin music take you out of your routine. Tell Guiseppe you're my friends, and he'll take good care of you. Trying that tonight and come back tomorrow." They filed out of my office glumly, but the fact they still had a lot in common was a hopeful sign, I thought. If I could just get them to have a little more in common.

Tuesday was a grey day, and I worked at my desk to try to get ahead on my Sunday sermon. It was giving me trouble; my sermon from three years ago was perfectly fine, but I was feeling I was repeating myself. Dinner at the Pub meant I got to see some friendly faces, but I made a bad choice from the menu, and the aftereffects kept me from sleeping well.

Wednesday morning saw no change in the weather, and no change as Percy and Peggy filed into my office. "How did dinner go last night? Did you have a good time?"

Peggy nodded her head: "Good, Vic, good. It's a nice place, and the prices aren't too bad."

"Your mate Giuseppe took good care of us. He's all right."

"What did you have for dinner?"

"We had spaghetti and meat sauce."

"Me, too. It was right nice, and the best thing was I din't have to cook it."

What was I missing? "Didn't you find Crimini's romantic?"

Percy looked confused. Peggy was also a bit puzzled and said: "Well, it was a bit darker than it should have been. The little guy with the violin was a bit annoying."

"Cor, there's nothing I hate worse than soppy Dago tunes scraping through the night."

"Were we supposed to get romantic there, Vic?"

I bit back the urge to say 'yes, you daft woman'. The Quilting Ladies found it charming, and even Derrick Sterns and Jenny Button liked it when I took them there. "What did you talk about?"

"Well, we talked about the weather, Vic," Percy began. "We had to record the show with Ardal in it, so we talked about when we were going to look at it."

"We talked about making a baby," Peggy said distantly.

"Yeah," echoed Percy, "But we couldn't do much about it."

Red Flag! "Say more. How come you couldn't do much about it?"

"Well, we just weren't ready. My Willie wouldn't come up, and Peg was dry."

"Didn't you do any foreplay? Anything to pique your interest?"

Peggy looked confused. "Like what, Vic?"

"Did you kiss or anything before you went about this?"

Percy thought for a moment. "A little Vic, but we give each other a kiss every day before we go off to work."

"Did you kiss like when you were dating?"

They both laughed. "We aren't dating any more, Father," Peggy said, "Cor, we're supposed to snog in the back seat like teenagers?" She almost feel off her seat laughing.

"Cor, Father, I don't have to go shopping for milk anymore; done bought me a cow." Their hysterics continued, and Percy fell off his chair to writhe on the floor. Well, I thought to myself, at least I've got them laughing together.

It was a couple of minutes before they settled down, and looked at me with to say something profound. I thought feverishly for a few moments, then said: "All right, we've had fun this morning. Have some more fun together tonight. Watch your Ardal show together. What else do you like to do for fun?"

"We like to go to the Pub." Percy said.

"Yeah, when he pays me attention, I like the Pub, too."

"Well, go to the Pub tonight, but play together rather than drift off to your little friends. They'll understand. All right, off to work with you." They left chuckling, and I wondered how necessary I was necessary to this operation.

Wednesday was my day to visit the Choir School classes, which is a great change of pace. The seniors were in the mood to talk about the nature of Good and Evil, so an intelligent philosophical dialogue was wonderful. I went jogging after lunch, hoping it would stimulate my brain to an insight, but it didn't. After a tea of sandwiches, I was called over to the hospital to attend the family of a dying man, which took up the whole evening.

Lent hung heavily outside on a Thursday morning . I was getting tired of the rain. Charlotte Church's voice singing excerpts from Carmen didn't lighten my mood. It was disgusting .I didn't have to wake up early, but my eyes popped open at 5:00AM and sleep would not return. Sitting in my kitchen nursing my coffee wearing my pyjamas and bathrobe, I mused on how I missed the Quilting Ladies. Sheila was visiting her oldest son in Wales and Mary was in Belgium on business. Mavis was due the night before, but it would be evening before she dropped by. 5:15 AM. If I were a smoker, I could light up and spend some time ruining my health. I looked out the window; the darkness remained. Percy and Peggy's lack of understanding and self-awareness weren't helping, either.

At 5:30, a squat form let herself in the door and threw her head back; Mavis had come over for a visit. She took her coat off, revealing her nightgown covered by a bathrobe over Wellingtons: a quintessential Englishwoman out for an early morning chore. I looked at her in amazement: a squat, chubby woman barely over five feet tall, with greying hair and the biggest set of breasts I've ever seen. Giving me a huge, wet kiss, she bustled over to the stove and began putting pans on the burners, which she started. "What are you doing, Mavis?"

"Couldn't sleep, Vicar, and saw your light. Figured you could use a friendly face in the dark of night, and a bite to eat. Bacon and Scrambled Eggs, right? Toast, done on both sides as you like it?"

"Well, yes, I'd like that Mavis. Thanks."

"Done then. Fifteen minutes and we'll have breakfast. Drink your coffee and all will be well."

Pulling food out of the icebox, she went about her work with energy and drive. I couldn't believe he could wake up this energetic. "When did you get in last night, Mavis?"

"Oh, is was about nine, Vicar. Harry picked me up at the station and took me straight home. I'm still a bundle of energy, and was awake at 4:30. Minding my own business, wondering what to do first, and I saw your light. It's been too long, so I figured if I fixed you a lovely breakfast on the awful morning, you might give me some nice, dirty business before you got on with your day.

"Well, I don't have an appointment until 9:00, so I guess I can work you in."

"Look, I've found some lovely mushrooms. Interested?"

"Sure. How about sauteing them and putting them in the scrambled eggs?"

"Never heard of that before. Let's give it a try."

Even though Mavis isn't the best cook in the parish, she's very capable and turned out a delicious breakfast for us. Washing as she went, all that was left at the end of the meal for the sink were the plates and silverware we were using. The clock read 5:55 as we finished. "Three hours for fun," Mavis giggled.

"Where do you want to go?"

"The last time I was over, you moved the old prie-dieu out of your room. Where did you put it?"

I thought for a moment. "Percy and Stan put it in the basement, where I have my weights. It's standing by itself, but the room is a junkyard."

A gleam came to her eyes. "Let's have a look."

We descended to the basement. Down a short hallway was a musty room, half full of stuff. The prie-dieu was by itself at one end of the room next to the wall; the other side held old furniture, tools, twine, and half full cans of paint. The temperature was noticeably chillier than upstairs. My weights were next to the door; my resolution to lift was still dormant by the mess of the room. It was lit by a bare bulb from a fixture in the dead center of the ceiling, casting eerie shadows around the place.

Mavis looked like a kid in a candy shop. "This will do, luv, this will do."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've always loved horror movies every time I was scared I was aroused at the same time. Four of my lassies were conceived right after I watched a horror show."

"All right, you're got your decrepit dungeon. What's next?"

Going over to the corner, she picked up a backless wooden chair and two pieces of twine approximately eighteen inches long. Rooting in the toolbox produced some C clamps and a small whisk broom; when she got all this back to the antique furniture, she pulled a length of rope, a rubber spatula and two small metallic objects from her huge bathrobe pockets. The tools went on the ledge initially while she experimented with the chair in the midst of the gap between the kneeler and the ledge. It barely fit, and she tried it out by sitting on it. A broad smile creased her face; she then brought an old nightstand over by her improvised dungeon area. The tools went on the nightstand and she turned to smile and bow at me.

"I"m ready, luv."

I shook my head. "All right, dear. What are we doing with all this?'

Her bathrobe came off to rest on the kneeler and her nightgown followed it. She wore a huge white bra and massive blue panties underneath; the bra came off releasing her gigantic breasts, covered by seven inch wide nipples that immediately perked to rock hardness. Sitting on the chair, she lifted her heavy breasts onto the ledge and gave me a goofy grin. "First, Vicar, I want you to tie my hands to the side of this thing with the twine. Not do it too tight, but it should serve."

"I don't know, Mavis, but if you say so."

"I've done my homework, Vic, it'll be all right."

"All right, dear. Here we go." I tied her hands easily; the prie-dieu had several ornamental carvings that accommodated bonds that I used with the Bishop's daughter. Mavis shivered from the chill and anticipation. The implements she gathered were impressive: only thing that I didn't see before were two horse spurs from on a shelf in the kitchen: souvenirs of my childhood on the Western Kansas ranch. Her big eyes looked up at me with a defiant smirk, daring me to do something. I traced my finger lazily on the top of her breast, flirting with the areola but staying away. Eyes closed, her lip quivered at the contact, and after avoiding the huge brown target, I finally crossed the line and made figure eights on the huge nipples, circling the thick nubs before moving off to ivory whiteness. An imp had me reach for her exposed armpits and ribs, and I had her laughing hysterically as long as I wanted.

When she calmed down, she caught her breath. "Vicar, you can do anything at all to my tits or backside, anything. You can pick up anything right there and run it over the skin or whack it or clamp it down. It's frightening what can happen, I've got no control, but it's turning me on like nothing else. The pain is no problem; I've tried it out on me own and I can take whatever you can dish out. G'wan, g'wan."

I picked up the C clamps first. It was like the clamps and chain we used for our titfucking sessions, so I put it on her thick nub. Round and round the bar went as the clamps bit down; she panted and moaned as they got tighter until she bade me stop. The other went around its mate, tighter and tighter until she gave the signal. "Oh, lovely Vic, lovely." I moved around behind her to trace my fingernails on her huge hips. Squirming in her seat, I broadened my pattern and reached around to get her flabby thighs. Soon I set a pattern where she thought I was headed for her clitoris, but I veered off at the last minute. I switched to trace my fingernails on her breasts for a few moments, before returning to her hips and thighs. Her breathing accelerated and decelerated as I moved on her body, and her seat grew damp with the nectar she was producing.

Her breasts were sitting there begging for attention, so I took a spur next. Huge worried eyes followed it as I waved it slowly in front of her face, then gradually made contact with her flesh. The rolled up and down her mountains leaving red dots that disappeared quickly; when they invaded the brown areola, she moaned and cried as they traversed her sensitive skin. I took the other one and two wheels of sharp points pricked her: she cried out: "Harder, Vic, harder. Ooh, yes, push them down." After circling her reddening nubs several times I put them down and began to lick the unclamped part of her nipples. I knew it would bring her close; Mavis frequently orgasmed with nipple stimulation alone. She breathed quicker and quicker growing close; I jiggled the clamps and got yelps in reply.

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