The Vicar of St. Dunstan's Ep. 19

We settled in the first floor sitting room to watch the BBC, when my cell phone buzzed around 9:00. I checked the number and it was Agnes. "Hello, Vicar. I need you in the chapel right now."

"What's up?"

"It's the organ. I was practicing and the there's something wrong: I think some of the pneumatics need adjustment, and I don't want to go into the pipe chamber while the Church's empty."

"Can't this wait?"

"I can't practice with it like this, and I'm busy all day tomorrow helping cook dinner. Get over here."

"All right, all right. Don't get your knickers in a twist." I rang off. Mother looked sweetly at me. "What's happening, Alfred."

"Agnes is having trouble with the organ and wants me to help her fix it. She wants to do it now, so if you'll excuse me."

"Sure, son," my Dad chimed in. "Gosh, this Ardal O'Hanlon is a funny guy."

Going back over to the darkened church was a little spooky, and I entered to see a pool of light in the balcony where the organ was. The windows were open, letting the night breeze in, but it was still July warm. "OK, Perky, what's going on," I asked from the aisle close to the balcony. "We had the tuner in just last week."

"Come up here."

I climbed the long, circular stairway to the loft. The light made the vastness of the nave a void that dimly caught the lights by the organ, windows dull in the wan light, the sanctuary lamp a lone red dot in the distance. As I crossed over to the console, Agnes came out of the organ case stark naked.

"I knew you'd be paranoid about having sex with your parents in the house, so I thought this would be a good alternative. Everything's locked up, and Derrick and Jenny are definitely staying home tonight, so we won't be interrupted." Derrick and Jenny sterns were the Sexton and Verger: they would be the only ones who could possibly show up unannounced.

Her red hair was down and wild, her body freckled and her skin glistening. Her breasts hung pertly with the jeweled nipples inviting attention, her flaming red bush damp with anticipation. It didn't take long to generate my typical response to her pulchritude. She went to the organ bench and sat at the end of the smooth, dark wood. "I've always enjoyed making sweet music here," she cooed with a sultry pucker of her lips.

It was novel: I'd never thought of making love on the organ bench, and it would surely be safe now; my parents were safely ensconced in front of the television and wouldn't come searching for me. Looking at the Sanctuary lamp, I was a little uneasy about copulating in my church.

Agnes sensed my uneasiness and reached out her hand to me. "The Lord said for us to rejoice in His Courts and to make our home there. What better way to be a home somewhere than to make love there?"

I shook my head. "I don't think you'd get very far with that theological train of thought, but you win as usual." I took her hand and pressed it to my chest. My lips sought hers, as her hands unbuckled my belt. Working my way down her neck, I kissed her chest and down to the jeweled point, teasing the metal and its soft rubbery setting as Agnes sighed and stroked my hair. I stood up and she pulled my shorts and briefs down with one motion. Stroking me with her hand, she laid back and guided my cock to her dripping snatch.

At first, the echos of our lovemaking bouncing up and down and around the nave made me nervous, but after reassuring myself that we were safe, I entered the spirit of love as her ankles locked behind my naked buttocks. She lay on the organ bench, her eyes closed, savoring every thrust deep into her vagina. Her pelvic muscles grasped my phallus eagerly as it pistoned in and out, bringing me to a climax relatively quickly. After I finished projecting my semen into her, I pulled her up to a standing position as I planted two fingers inside her while working her clitoris, bending over to take her right breast with my mouth and sucking her nipple hard. It was only about a minute and a half before she began trembling uncontrollably.

I massaged our combined juices into her thighs as she came down from the summit. She leaned against me, shuddering, her head on my shoulder. After a few moments, she looked up at me and whispered: "How do you want to do it next?"

"In my room after the folks have gone home."

She frowned. "That's another week."

"I know, and I'm sorry, Perky. Just having them around is strange and I'm not myself. While they're here, I need to be with them. They'll be gone soon."

"All right, Al. I'll try to understand."

Fortunately, the Sexton's closet had some gentle cleansing agents than made me smell better before I went back to the Vicarage. As I came in the door, my Dad said in jocular tones: "You get 'er done, boy?"

"What?"

"The organ, son, the organ."

"Yeah, sure."

The next morning was rather sedate and I was able to make a dent in the pile of paperwork on my desk, returning phone calls and answering e-mail. Agnes and Mavis were working hard in the kitchen with the assistance of Mavis' identical twin granddaughters Elizabeth and Beatrice, and my parents were holed up in their suite. Around 11:00, Mom stuck her head into the kitchen, chatted with the Quilting Ladies for a few moments and go acquainted with Mavis, then dropped by my study. "Working hard, dear?"

"Yes, Mom. A lot to catch up with. What's up?"

"Your father and I are interested in seeing a movie this afternoon."

"Oh. Which one?"

"Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. We enjoyed the first one a lot and thought Johnny Depp was hysterical. Would you like to go with us?"

I looked ruefully back and forth between the pile and my mother. Tonight was lost and maybe a good part of tomorrow, although I could probably beg out of anything with the excuse of sermon preparation. The look on her face told me that they wanted me to go with them. "Let me think about it 'til lunchtime?"

A smile. "Sure, honey. Take your time. The show doesn't start until 1:30."

"How long is the show?"

"Only three hours."

She left the room and I pondered. The pile would still be there Monday. I looked through my files of back homilies and found the one I preached three years ago on this weekend. It was rather good, so my resistance weakened. Then, my cell phone buzzed. "Hello?"

"Hi, handsome. What's up?" The voice was Mother Mary Rufus.

I sighed. "It's a merry-go-round today, too."

"Have any plans for this afternoon?" she leered.

"I'm going to the movies with my mommy and daddy this afternoon," I jibed in a little boy voice.

"My, my, will they buy you some popcorn if you're a good boy?" she replied in a mommy voice.

"Shut up," I said, returning to a normal tone. "What do you have in mind?"

"Oh, I was hoping to spend some time with a special person this afternoon. Plato's Cave is open."

My manhood was interested in the thought, but my heart couldn't back out on my parents. "I'm sorry, Barbara. I don't know when I'll get to spend time with them again, Dad's health is all right at the moment, but it could go downhill at any time. When they go home, I might not get to see them again. It's tough to get away from them."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Which movie are you seeing?"

"Pirates of the Caribbean."

More silence. "That'll do. I'll meet you at the theater."

"You'll meet us at the theater?" "Sure. It's the Swiss Emporium, isn't it? Show at 1:30?"

"Yes. Won't you feel awkward seeing a movie in your habit?"

"No, because I won't be wearing my habit: I'll be undercover. Introduce me as Barbara. I'll find a way for us to sit by ourselves. Trust me."

"Yeah, all right, anything you say. Anything you want me to do to set this up?"

"Don't wear any underwear." I could almost hear the giggle in her voice. Lunch with the Quilting Ladies was fun for my parents, but rather tense for me. Agnes gave me concerned looks, but I shook my head. Mavis dominated the conversation with anecdotes of her grandchildren, which her granddaughters responded to with blushes and my parents responded to their own stories of grandchildren. I sat there waiting for it to pass. As we prepared to leave for the theater, I was able to dart upstairs and ditch my briefs.

It was another lovely day, and since the theater wasn't far Mom and I walked the short distance, pushing Dad's wheelchair. A trim young blonde in a yellow sun dress and sunglasses approached us, waving broadly. "Hello, Reverend Alfred, how are you today?" Barbara piped in a high voice.

So looked stunning, and I tried to keep my jaw from dropping to the pavement, but recovered quickly enough that my parents didn't notice the pause. "Fine, Barbara, how are you?"

"Good," She said, spreading her arms and twirling in a circle. "Isn't it a wonderful day?"

"Of course. By the way, Barbara, these are my parents, Fletcher and Wilma. . ."

"Hello, Barbara, it's a pleasure to meet you," my Mother broke in.

"Hi, Barbie," my Father purred in his smoothest voice.

". . .are you a parishioner of Alfred's?" Mom finished.

"No, but I see him for spiritual direction every month. Where are you off to this afternoon?"

"We're going to see Pirates of the Caribbean. Would you be interested in joining us?"

Barbara dug in a small yellow purse she carried and consulted a small diary. "I'm free this afternoon, and I'd love to attend the cinema with you."

"Great," my Dad said, "It's always nice to have a lovely young woman around."

My mother hit him on the shoulder with the reprimand "Flet-CHER!" in her mock serious voice. Barbara was looking nice in her yellow sun dress, her long, blond hair flowing down to her shoulders, the halter portion of her dress showed off her fine form to good advantage, and her long legs well displayed by the short hem of her dress. She wore flip flops, and a thin white band on her head.

I wondered as I pushed my Father down the pavement whether she going to pull this off. She was going to be at dinner tonight in her habit, and my parents were no fools, especially my Mother. No one put on over on her in seventy three years as far as I knew. Arriving at the cinema, we got our tickets and found ourselves alone in a large screening room. I got my Dad settled in the handicapped seat as the ladies visited the concession area. A slideshow of local adverts played between showtimes, and my Dad whispered in my ear: "She's a real looker, son. Where'd you find her?" "Professionally," I whispered back. "I visited her mother in the hospital regularly and she was there one day. We started doing spiritual direction not long after that." Which was true, but it didn't feel that way.

He winked at me. "She'd be a nice lady to step out with."

"Dad!"

"Well, you're not getting younger, son. Just because things didn't work out with Janet doesn't mean you have to spend the rest of your life alone. I know you: you spend almost all your time working your butt off and you don't set aside enough time for yourself. You're getting older son, in your mid 30s, and it's time you thought about finding a lady to settle down with."

The ladies returned laden with popcorn and drinks. Mom turned to Dad: "The kids are going to sit up higher, Fletcher. Barbie has trouble with her neck and she'll get sore if she stays here with us looking up at the screen. Alfred will keep her company, won't you dear?"

"Yes, Mother." Score one for the wily Mother Superior: she even got my Mother's unwitting endorsement of her scheme. I saw the folks were comfortably settled, and then mounted the stairs with my cunning companion.

We settled in two rows down from the upper limit, in the center of the row of seats. I put up the armrest and we made ourselves comfortable. "How'd you get hold of the clothes?" I whispered.

"Borrowed them from Agnes. Fortunately we're almost the same size," she whispered back.

"Almost is the operate word. Your tits are about to pop out the sides that top is so loose."

"Wouldn't that be a tragedy?" she purred as she snuggled into my side.

We munched the buttery confection as we waited for the movie to start. She stroked my thigh, making my monster stir in his lair. "Not too fast. Wait till the lights go down," I urged. She responded by unzipping me.

The lights went down for the trailers, and my arm across her bare back moved as my hand dipped under her top to stroke her nipple. She responded by pulling my erection straight up and covering my cockhead with her buttery hand. We went very slowly, being careful to make no noise. My Dad's hearing wasn't great, but my Mom always seemed to have bionic ears, and I worried about what she might hear, but Barbara was as quiet as a mouse. The show began, and I untied her top, letting her breasts come free.

We watched the movie, idly stroking each other, for about twenty minutes before we lost interest in it. It was funny, but the slow pacing was destroying my concentration, as was Barbara's glacially slow hand job. My long arm wandered lower until it reached her crotch: it was freshly shaven and moist in anticipation. As I found the hillock at the head of the valley, a warm, buttery wet embrace surrounded my corona. My eyes glazed as I surrendered myself to the sensations.

With a start, I wondered whether my folks were still focused on the screen. I looked down in their direction and saw something incredible: my Father's head was lolling back and my Mother was bent over him with the top of her head bobbing up and down frantically over his lap. Everything was forgotten: the movie and the soft company; my erection and my exploration of Barbara's clit. Good grief, I'd never stumbled into my parent's room while they were making love when I was little, and now it felt worse.

Barbara looked up after my shrinking flesh pulled out of her mouth with a pop. "What's wrong, Alfie?" she whispered with a look of concern on her face.

"Take a look down at my parents." She sat up and peeked down at them.

"Is your mom really giving your dad a blow job?" Her eyes were wide with surprise.

"It looks like it. I can't handle that. I know they make love in various ways, and Dad's sex drive hasn't flagged over the years, but I never wanted to know details. Yuck!"

She gave me an odd look. "I think it's sweet," she whispered, "that they love each other so much they're willing to try new things. When I was little, I used to hide in the closet and watch my parents make out. It was so incredible the first time I saw Mother deep throat Father, how she managed to get all of him down her throat and bury her nose in his pubic hair, I'll never know. That was how I learned the facts of life. She could orgasm just by sucking him off, and I orgasmed once just watching them."

I shook my head to clear it. "Things are different in America. I'm going to need some time to recover from this."

She put the other armrest beside me up in the air. "Why don't you lie down, sweety? Yes, put your head in my lap. Comfy? Take your time, dear, just try to put it out of your memory." She stroked my hair as I lay there, her naked breasts inches from my face. I relaxed at last and she pulled me close, my face between her breasts. I started to kiss between them and she let me relax downward, moving so her left breast came withing range of my mouth. I licked leisurely, teasing the pale white flesh glowing blue in the movielight, skimming close to the areola and darting away at he last moment before engulfing the nipple. She pulled up my shirt and stroked my bare stomach, moving lower gradually as my trouser snake recovered its interest. Soon she was pulling my erection as I nursed her hungrily.

Swinging her leg over, I found myself face to face with her lower lips as she recovered her flesh flavored popsicle. The movie played, the colors flickering over us, and I dove into her honeycomb seeking its sweetness. Her moaning was transmitted to my erection, and soon it overflowed into her mouth as I brought her to a climax. We held tight against each other, using each other's flesh to stifle our moans of delight. Just then, my Dad let out a sharp yelp, and we giggled into each other's privates knowing that Dad had just arrived where we had been moments before. We recovered and sat back up to watch the movie, in each other's arms. Mom was sitting in Dad's lap with her arms around his shoulders, but the movement of her head indicated something was going on out of our sight. Barbara grinned like a cat in the dark while I tried to keep my attention on the screen, while stroking whatever bare flesh was within reach. Taking an ice cube out of her drink, I started making wet tracks across her skin. She purred as I did that, so I quested lower, teasing her valley with the cold intruder. My mother let out a gasp, which made me wince, but I didn't stop my endeavor. Taking out another cube, I teased Barbara some more, working around her wet slit and chilling her nubbin before slipping it inside, where it melted almost immediately. Two more followed, then I held a handful to make my hand very cold before slipping two frozen fingers inside her deep warmth. Barbara bit her lip in an effort to stay quiet, and I pushed my fingers in and out harder and faster. Before long she had another orgasm, her head and mouth tight against my chest to muffle her mews of delight.

The movie ended at last, and we put ourselves back together before the credits were done. We got down to my parent's seats as the house lights and slideshow returned, where I helped my Dad back into his wheelchair. After visiting the loo, Barbara walked us all the way back to the Vicarage. My mother was chatting with her happily as we walked in the summer afternoon, and Barbara was deftly avoiding details about what her job was. As we reached the Vicarage, the women shook hands and my Mother said: "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Barbara. Hope to see you again sometime."

"I hope to see you again very soon," Barbara said, with a strange glint in her deep brown eyes. "Nice to get acquainted with you, Fletcher," she continued, bending down to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Likewise, my dear," he replied. She flounced away from us, her purse swinging as we navigated the ramp into the Church where a series of ramps would take us into the Vicarage.

"Ah, there's nothing like an afternoon at the movies," my Dad said with a wink as his eyes followed Barbara's backside into the distance.

The next episode will continue Fletcher and Wilma's visit from this point.