0 comments/  63149 views/  6 favorites

Bless me Father Ch. 01

By: laplappapillon



Ch. 01 The story of a priest

The church was designed in 1959...and the nameless Catholic Architect, inspired by Rennie Mackintosh and the Arts and Crafts movement has slipped to obscurity; but his legacy is a fine and noble structure, genuflecting to C.R.M's prodigious talent.

Sculpted into the hillside, on the outskirts of the city, this faux whitestone masterpiece of the modern movement sits so comfortably in its camo-tinted bracken cushion. The verdigris of its copper clad roof melting gently into the hillside.

A visitor is drawn by virtue of the clever landscape geometry, between softly nodding, silver birches, thick undergrowth with orange berried buckthorn and sprawling cotoneasters into the portico of a tall, Brazilian mahogany, Art-Deco doorway.

Smacking his (or her) lips, the discerning and curious traveller enters a theatre of delicious volume. 

The focal point is the Baptismal font...a slender column of white granite, topped by a matching dish some two metres in circumference. The chalky white ceiling of the Baptistery soars 15 metres above, with tiny, intruding, square pockets of coloured glass, shedding their rays in slivers to the chasm below. 

Entering the Nave, the vast body of the church quietly brims with the deafening silence of sleep. 

The walls punctuated either side by the twelve Stations of the Cross. Organically carved tableaux portray the passion of Christ in pristine, white Carrera marble; each station backlit by a different slab of stained glass...twelve hues dramatically tinting betrayal, political justice and execution.

Architecturally the space is a masterpiece; from weakest winter dawn to flaming summer sunset, the Nave is pierced by the shards of an angular rainbow. Errant atheists retreat in awe of its beauty.

The modest white cylinder of the Pulpit, demands the rhetorical skill of the Priest to declare its presence. In counterpoint, the raised island of book-matched marble forms an island Altar, which dominates the Sanctuary, bathed in the stained glass Reredos glow of St. Martin. 

The entire space is an essay in peace

A potential congregation of thousands demands wisdom and experience of its Parish priest. Father Patrick O'Flynn presides as Alpha male. 

Four acolytes provide unswerving loyalty and support. Michael Ward - the studious and narrow minded student, Kevin O'Halloran - policeman and organiser, Alex Carmichael the intellectual religious mentor and..... Father Vincent. 

All these pastors reside in the cloistered Rectory, a haven of peace and tranquillity burrowed into the brae of the hill, cleverly protected from the elements by virtue of its position. Sister Mary (a Carmelite nun) the secretary and housekeeper tends to their daily needs, ably assisted by Christine, the Portuguese chambermaid. 

Sister Mary loves her position, an old school English girl, sharp as a razor blade; she deals with the political expedients of the priests within the Parish. She is also fund raiser in chief, accountant, soothsayer, shoulder to cry on and diplomat extraordinaire. Unqualified, barely paid, put upon, but kind and loveable...she is also a rather attractive woman.

Christine, her live-in assistant, a poverty migrant from Chamusca near Lisbon, helps with the meals, gathers the laundry and makes the beds...often the fathers would rise at 4.30am. Or come home from a hospital at 11p.m. so her bed-making and snack-making skills are round the clock. 

With her dusky olive complexion and mane of dark chocolate hair, this girl is capable of snapping the necks of men as she sashays to the shops on a Saturday morning. More handsome than pretty of countenance, Christine is blessed with upward tilting little cannonball breasts and an exquisitely firm and bubble bottom. 

Father Vincent had easily earned the love and respect of his parishioners. Generous hearted and patient, he offered his social skills wherever they were needed. Union of Catholic Mothers, St. Vincent de Paul Society, exorcisms and school meetings...the gentle, cavalier priest would harness all the available energy to make the event a success.

The unsolicited generosity of this peaceful man did not escape the attention of the female parishioners. Father Vincent's rugged structure, reckless indifference to establishment and raffish charm had earned him many admirers.

Vows of modesty, chastity and celibacy were tested with a constancy which tried his virtues to the limit. 

Each Friday of the year, a High Mass would be held, attended by the local schools, to pray for their success in education and spiritual enlightenment. The good father easily side -stepped flirtatious schoolgirls...and their teachers, eager for his attention. The schoolgirls annoyed him slightly...frequently vacuous and shallow - all style and no substance.

The drama of this theatre did not escape him...adorned in the beautifully embroidered robes, coloured in the flavour of the feast or religious season...emerald green for Epiphany, purple for Advent and black for Requiem, he would hold aloft the solid gold monstrance containing the body of Christ, flanked by altar boys waving chasubles of incense in scarlet Surplus and pure white Stole. 

Uniformed little temptresses would vie for his eye, charmed and disarmed by his humour and skilful rhetoric. He would smell their perfume as he placed the sacred host in their pouting, carmine mouths and watch in sublime detachment, the blatancy of their naive seduction as they crossed and uncrossed their legs in the front pews.

Vincent was well versed in the ways of women, his pastoral care encompassed home visits to all of his parishioners and he was fully aware of their frequent domestic inadequacies and clumsy social skills, but he was also completely tuned to their genuine warmth and generosity of spirit.

His diary was always full..hastily scribbled and often illegible notes in sharp contrast to the neatly tailored graphic of Sister Mary's entries. If she could decipher his scrawl, she would often neatly score through his scribble and provide translation nearby, enabling Vincent to read his own writing. 

Each Thursday of the year, the Choir would gather with Father Vincent as choral guide, constantly in preparation for Easter or Lent or Advent celebrations...Baptisms, Funerals, Marriages, Catechism or Confirmations, Father Vincent was a cast-iron guarantee of the Churches' commitment to its flock.

Wednesdays were set aside for both hospice and hospital visits. More than anything in life, these would claw at Vincent's emotions. 

Tuesdays and Saturdays were confessional days, shared equally with the other priests; they contributed massively to his education in the human condition and its frailties.

Positive in outlook and forgiving in nature, Father Vincent would dispense absolution with candour and generosity...in truth, most of the transgressors were skilfully economic with the truth...the salient fact was that Vincent always heard both sides of any story...hearing confession from husband, wife, cuckold, mistress, harlot and virgin.

Unbleached by dogma, Vincent was a man of the world. He enjoyed climbing and abseiling, skiing and orienteering as leisure pursuits, he also had bright red blood flowing through his veins and innumerable situations would send him scurrying to the Rectory for an icy cold shower. 

Vincent would stand in his nakedness singing "Immaculate Mary, my heart is on fire" as he blissfully ignored the solid and fully erect muscle pulsing between his legs.

Two parishioners in particular had stretched the Father's chastity vow to extremes. He had baptised and confirmed them, given them their first Communion in pristine and virginal white dresses, listened to their economic confessions and ultimately married them to their current spouses. 

Jennifer and Marilyn had history.... Father Vincent in moments of weakness would reflect on their influence to his vows during his tenure as a Priest. The priest is very fond of them both, they are warm, friendly and generous spirits, full of fun and mischief but always prepared to pitch in whenever he needs a volunteer or two. He didn't exactly see them as envoys of Satan determined to tempt him into sin, more sort of faintly disillusioned victims of modern society.

The girls had grown up together, their friendship and love for each other enduring and unbreakable. Cynical tongues would wag and whisper at their "closeness" but these young women were suitably intelligent and socially equipped to ignore the gossiping harridans. They had an ally to some extent in the Parish secretary and housekeeper. 

Sister Mary recognized and acknowledged their relationship. She too had nurtured and educated them, spent time in their company and watched with interest and affection as they blossomed into women. Mary was no shrinking violet herself. Mature and handsome, she had frequently attracted the attention of many male parishioners who would attempt in so many feeble ways to charm or seduce this clever and resourceful Nun. 

Despite her comely appearance, Mary can fell a bull at 20 paces with her glare. Her Vandyke brown and white habit becomes a suit of armour as she lays waste the charms of blustering men and their wiles. The boldest of them are easily cowed as she draws upon her wisdom and experience. 

"Mr. Macdonald, have you got something in your eye?" is her stock response to flirtation, "Why don't you ask Mrs. Macdonald for some eye drops?"

They fall like skittles in her wake.

All the Fathers adore her in this respect, her compassion and dispassion are awe inspiring and easily attributed to her faith and her limitless humanity. 

Mary is absolutely comfortable in their company, particularly Father Vincent who is her confidante and friend. They have known each other for a long time and that friendship is completely unsullied by sexual politics. Besides....Father Vincent has always known and indulged Mary's penchant for the fairer sex. 

Over the years he had witnessed many tiny instances when Mary would appear to soften visibly in the company of young women. Christine the chambermaid, Jennifer and Marilyn and a couple of the flirty young female liberals would often leave Mary in a giggling and fluttering state.

Vincent would not intrude. Mary's strengths far outweighed her weakness; a completely reliable friendship is not something to be tinkered with. God knows that a disproportionate number of his peers, many lifelong friends and colleagues are gay men. 

Sister Mary rarely indulges her thoughts in physical terms, but when she does, she does it with relish and passion. On rare occasions she will have a lie-in on a Saturday morning. Mary enjoys few things more outside of her vocation than stretching luxuriously on her ageing feather mattress and stroking her God given body. Still pliant and supple despite her middle years, she is modestly proud of its condition. Both her room and Christine's are situated well away from the Fathers, so no risk of them overhearing her excitement, and if Christine just happens to be listening...who knows, she may even share the passion in some way.

Her thoughts drift easily to the past as her fingers trace purposefully from throat and neck...particularly dear Christine...she will stand as close to her as she dares, risking any suspicion, just to grasp the scent of her body. 

Mary's hands roll onto her breasts, the lightest touch as they reach the tightening, slowly swelling nipples. Her hands will surely be drawn by the electric tingling between her legs. Christine is her focus today....Watching her and being with her is enough for Mary. 

Christine is no fool...acutely aware of Sister Mary's attraction...blessed with bisexual inclinations, she employs her physical assets, her genuine good nature and hard working persuasions in equal measure to please both men and women. Always aware of her status as a migrant worker, she has no intention of compromising herself with reckless sexual overtures; she allows only the subtlest teasing exposure to maintain Mary's arousal.

When the opportunity arrives, she "accidentally" permits a carelessly buttoned blouse to reveal a peek at her perfectly formed breasts or a squat in the kitchen when preparing a meal to allow Mary a glimpse at her thighs...and if the good Sister just happens to be around when she is making a bed...plenty of bending and stooping to emphasise her gorgeous and beautifully sculptured bottom.

Mary's languor dwells in these moments as her hands caress her belly. Hitching up the plain cotton nightdress, she explores the milky white hips, thighs and mound of Venus...all unblemished...no stretch marks on this virgin territory...a snapshot view of Christine's tight bottom hovers in her mind as her fingers spread her oily lips. Her imagination allows her the freedom to stroke the outline of the girl's panties through her nylon overall....She can slowly raise the hem...the vigour of her flickering fingers quickens as the fantasy continues.

Dwelling for a moment to wallow in the curves and contours, barely resisting the unbearable urge to slap, Mary hears the acceleration of her own breath as she reaches the waistband of Christine's pretty blue undies. Slowly she draws them down exposing the perfect olive-hued rump. 

Lost in her ardour, the squelching fingers of her left hand gently hold open the hood of her budlet and she pinches, rubs and squeezes the tiny organ as her imagination runs riot. She has barely enough time to gently spank those heavenly orbs before her orgasm rushes through her body. 

Deliberately infrequent, Mary's sexual indulgence is rewarded with bone-jarring climaxes....She does know that the trade-off of her venial sin would not be quite so spectacular if she did it more often.

Mary begins to relax her still quivering body...a smile plays warmly round her elegant mouth. Still stroking the warm and sticky folds of her lips, her mind drifts from Christine to her dear and private thoughts of Jennifer and Marilyn...on the cusp of sleep, she recalls their first precocious encounter.

It was during a rather boring 10am service officiated by Father Michael Ward, a rather plain and frankly boring character from Donegal; the rustles of impatience from the congregation did not penetrate his thinking...oblivious to fidgeting children and whispering parents, he would drone on for ages with his theories and speculations. The pause for communion was a heaven-sent blessing and the release of energy when he announced this stage of the Holy Mass was palpable. 

Mary's fingers became more agitated as she recalled what happened next. Jennifer was sitting tight against the wall in the rear pew, with Marilyn next to her, then Sister Mary, then a handful of comatose pensioners....Sister Mary had taken communion at the 6am so stayed in place as first Marilyn, then Jennifer squeezed past.

For just a few seconds, Mary was suddenly acutely aware of Marilyn's legs opening as she side-stepped past her knees...she felt a warm draught of air on her folded hands and looked slightly spellbound as Marilyn's bottom passed within inches of her face. Jennifer smiled at Mary and side-stepped in Jen's shadow with exactly the same effect.

Sister Mary almost swooned on the spot, her eyes followed the young women in their "just modestly above the knee" Summer dresses as they queued at the communion rail. She could barely contain her excitement at their return and rapidly polished her nonchalance in anticipation.

Jennifer was first to wriggle past, smiling and apologizing as she passed along the row of sublimely indifferent pensioners. As she reached Sister Mary, she imperceptibly slowed...how could she possibly know...? ...Mary took an apparently huge gamble as Jennifer's legs spread over her lap...she reached underneath Jennifer's dress and lightly touched her thigh.

Electricity began to hum.

The touch registered in Jennifer's brain. It could be passed off as an accident but for one thing...she turned to smile coquettishly at Mary and Mary looked squarely back...no hint of apology or bluster or anything else. Marilyn followed seconds later in carbon copy fashion.

Protected by high pews and day-dreaming pensioners, Mary reached out her hand (in partial view of Jennifer) and once again reached up inside the skirt and softly touched the inside of her thigh. Jennifer paused...perhaps for 3 seconds then exhaled an audible little moan which she swiftly stifled with a cough.

Marilyn settled herself next to Jennifer, waited a minute or so, then under cover of her cardigan, slipped her hand into Jen's, turned to glance at her and smiled as only she could to her dearest friend.

Mary remained motionless, her eyes tightly closed, muttering in Latin.

The girls sat in peace and silence for the remainder of the service. Mary took the earliest opportunity, turned to smile and excused herself to head for the Vestry and the inevitable post-Mass debate with Father Ward. Marilyn and Jennifer sat together until the church was almost empty... Marilyn was first to speak...she leaned into Jen and whispered

"Did that really happen? ...Sister Mary's hand? It has left me with such a tingle down below...."

"Yes, Mar' she did it to me too....I can feel a flush right through me just thinking about it."

The girls stood as one, had a final hand squeeze, then made their way to the Sacristy and the beckoning sunshine, smiling and nodding politely to anyone who caught their eye. 

Father Vincent just happened to be there, seated on a low whitestone wall, floppy hair curled into his eye as he shook the hands of the tardier worshippers, kissed the chocolate-smudged babies and generally dispensing goodwill and good fortune at every turn. The girls paused politely, waiting for a moment to approach their old friend and Pastor.

"Hello girls," he beamed at them, "God bless you for coming."

The irony of his words was lost as they both giggled and reached their hands out to their favourite priest. He took them and pressed them to his cheeks, blessing them and squeezing them with genuine warmth and affection. 

"Will either of you be able to help me dress the flowers tomorrow?" 

Vincent knew they both had the skills and energy and smiled with pleasure at their consent.

Jennifer spoke for both of them, "No problem, Father, we can call round in the morning, we don't start work until about 2 pm."

"Thank you, ladies, that would be a great help...I've got the wire and snips, vases and water, just need your guidance and flair." 

He stood to head for the Vestry, smiling his disarming smile and made his exit. Marilyn curled her arm into Jennifer's and drew her down the sloping path to the Church gate, leaned her head into Jen's and whispered once again.

"I don't know what it is about that man, Jen, but I find him impossibly attractive...remember when we were girls and we would tease him on badminton nights? Well I have a bit of a plan...are you game?"

Jennifer sighed, thought for half a second, then with a dirty giggle....

"Course I am...you know me, girlfriend, all for one and one for all!"

The pair trooped home, arm in arm, conspiring and plotting in the noonday sun.

to be continued

Laplappapillon 

Bless me Father Ch. 02



Ch02 For I have sinned

The girls approached Marilyn's house...she was visibly excited, still formulating her daring master plan. She hugged Jennifer conspiratorially to her side.

"I would give anything to hold Father Vincent's lovely warm cock in my hands...he is such an adorable man...so sexy and he doesn't even know it."

"This does sound reeeeeally thrilling," said Jen...warming rapidly to the whole notion. "How do you think you will manage to seduce him after your failed but frankly blatant attempts in the past?"

Marilyn just giggled..."May I borrow your camera, Jen? It is better than mine and I am about to become a film Director, I can't work with any old pantsy box-brownie for what I've got planned."

Marilyn's mercurial nature could be slightly dangerous sometimes, although basic instincts had driven her into this plot, she was quite confident as it developed and nothing could stop her asking Jennifer for her support.

Jennifer shared her enthusiasm...despite the naughtiness of it all; she loved Marilyn to bits and would enter any scheme, no matter how Machiavellian to make her friend happy.

"Ok...what do you want the camera for, you strumpet?"

"I want you to take a little video of me, when I tip you the wink tomorrow morning..."

"I can guess where this is going...shall I dress for the occasion?"

"Mmm think 1950's / 60's ...think Bardot and Monroe...Natalie Wood...you've seen those old films, Jen..."A" line dresses and seamed stockings...the giggle band etc. etc."

"Giggle band?"

"The darker area at the top of a stocking...the part where you fasten the suspender clip, it's known as the giggle band."

"Why?"

"Because if he gets past that, he is laughing...."

Marilyn fell apart at her own joke...crossing her legs to prevent a flood as she opened her front door. Jennifer laughed with her, Mar's virally infectious laugh was irresistible..."I have to pee, Jen...put the kettle on, hon"...she scampered upstairs, "I am going to have a shower while I'm here ...you are in charge, so be alert....Britain needs lerts!!"....Marilyn actually peed herself laughing again at her own ancient joke...she didn't care; laundry is work-in-progress on a daily basis....

Jennifer busied herself making some tea...few things better on a hot day, "I'll take this into the garden, Mar!!...we can sort out the details in the war bunker!!"

This was Jennifer's pet name for the arbor around the garden bench. South facing, it was a beautiful place to hatch and develop their mischief...they had concocted quite a few little plots in that place. 

Ever since they were little girls, they had always had a war bunker...a cupboard below the stairs, a garden shed, a cave on the hillside...somewhere special which only they were aware of. 

As the dawn of sexual awakening enveloped them, they shared each other's private thoughts and leanings which apparently ran in parallel...both girls loved to tease the boys...and they knew exactly how to do it...practising and polishing their routines, they could send a lad scurrying off in indecent haste while still appearing demure and innocent...boys didn't quite know what to do with them.... 

As schoolgirls, they had vigorously explored the nuances of tease...that perfect and subtly combined blend of awareness and purpose...it amazed and delighted them if they watched a boy's trousers tent-poling as they allowed a casual glimpse of cleavage or a morsel of thigh...and if engineered correctly, a cock-bending flash of their carefully presented knickers.

There is no real explanation for it...the seduction of a girl's or woman's bottom iced with carefully chosen knickers...certain birds perform similar rituals...other species of animal exploit their colour and shape in the mating dance...butterflies, flowers...who cares...it is beautiful and erotic and arguably an exquisite art form.

Marilyn joined Jennifer in the bunker and the two radiant creatures wriggled close together and sipped at their PG tips...and a few biscuits for energy :-) jammy dodgers...custard creams...kit-kats...an apple danish pastry....

"Mmm Jen...you do yummy tea and biscuits...I don't mean to be rude, but we only have a few hours to prepare and I need to tell you my plan....I completed it in the shower...do I look flushed? I had to "milk the oyster", I can't get Father Vincent's cock out of my mind....I have just...eased the tension a little....

Jennifer squirmed a little on the bench...the prospects and her imagination were running amok, she could feel her pretty peach growing juicier by the minute...what would she be like tomorrow morning....Marilyn explained her master plan, pupils dilated, mouth wet and plump with blood...her arousal was intense.

"I am going to engage Father Vincent in conversation before we go in to dress the flowers tomorrow and I would love it if you would surreptitiously video it on that digital camera...I haven't a clue what will happen, but I think we can have some really erotic sport if all goes to plan...are you still up for it?"

Jennifer mewed her agreement and put her arms around her friend, "Tell me we won't hurt him, Mar...he is lovely...just some fun, ok?"

Marilyn reassured her that even if everything went tits-up, she would back off and behave...but for the purpose of this exercise, they could safely assume that at some point tomorrow morning, her unctuous mouth would encircle his rampant muscle and if Jennifer wanted to share it...or simply watch, it was entirely up to her...their consexual condition shared everything equally.

The one thing that Marilyn hadn't accounted for was Sister Mary....Mary held the diary of everything that happened in her sexual sphere and her bureaucratic license spotted both girls in her diary on flower duty the following morning...her hopeless attraction to them both ensured her ringside seat whenever they appeared on her radar.

Jennifer was first to rise...hubbie long gone, she made herself a brew and flicked through her wardrobe...a white dress jumped out and shook her hand...thin cotton print...perfect on her glorious figure...white satin underwear and a pair of stockings...her heart pounded slightly in anticipation of what could happen...she showered luxuriously, all the while daydreaming and growing more syrupy by the minute...God this was good...she allowed herself a squeeze, press and fondle as she slid the sleek undies into place.

Marilyn however woke in the middle of a dream...glistening with perspiration, she lay for a few minutes, resisting the urge to plunge her hands between her legs...she wanted every molecule of her sex to drip on the objects of her desire...she didn't even recall making coffee, totally preoccupied as she gathered her plumage for the day... pale blue lilac bra and knickers and a gingham print dress...dainty shoes and a pair of hold-up stockings...magnets for any man's eyes...it didn't take a lot of thought or a lot of money...but it was surely and securely going to make that man's cock twitch.

Jennifer was collecting Marilyn en-route to the church...they had to go to work at 2 and they agreed not to chance being late. She tooted her horn cheekily as the car drew into the kerb. Jen appeared and even at a distance, Marilyn could see she looked the part...a classic 1959 siren...half a century hadn't made a scrap of difference to the sex appeal of this fashion. 

Marilyn wolf-whistled through the open window...Jennifer cocked her legs into the seat with a flourish and spun round to look directly at her friend...."Let's see then Mar...what sweeties have you got to seduce your priest?"

"Close your eyes!"...several rustling seconds later... "Open your eyes slowly!"

Jennifer gasped ...Marilyn had turned to face her and sprawled back on the seat...one leg buried in the foot well, the other cocked over the middle channel, breasts poked out like volcanoes...her dress was pulled between her legs with the hem gripped tight in her fists... "Do you think he will like this?" Marilyn began to pull the hem slowly along her thighs... spreading her legs apart as she did. 

Jennifer felt a sudden, treacly feeling in her rapidly swelling quim, her voice was suddenly quiet. "All the way Mar' I need to see the whole picture to assess your charms."

Marilyn was looking quite intensely into her eyes...the hem of her skirt just skimming her stockings as she spoke, "Did you bring the camera, Jen?" 

With almost a smirk she plucked it from her bag and switched it on ..."Do anything but smile Mar' just show me your sweeties in the next two seconds."

Her legs fell apart, the skirt flipped onto her waist exposing her lilac knickers. Jennifer clicked the shutter. Marilyn flipped herself back into her chair, snapped her legs closed and started the engine, "Thanks, girlfriend, I need to save that on the computer later, ok?"

"If I am any judge at all, Mar' he will bust his britches....I can smell your musk from here," she giggled.

"Nearly there, Jen'...this is what I want you to do...sit where I show you with the camera set to video...trust me, I've worked it out...and you sit beside it, switch it on when I say...I'll be across from you...and I will do the talking at first, ok?"

Jen' could hardly think in her excitement...they walked up the drive together...not a soul in sight, deliberately 5 or 10 minutes early. Marilyn sat her down on a low terrace wall and settled herself appropriately across from her. The almost secret courtyard surrounded by floral bushes, brimming with summer growth, creating a perfect contrast with their frocks. 

Unbeknown to anyone, Sister Mary was watching everything from her first floor window. Still in her cotton nightdress, she rested her folded arms on her breasts, curled the curtain like a pillow and watched the scene unfold, completely out of sight. 

Father Vincent hopped and jumped down the steps and into the courtyard, "Morning girls! All ready to show me your talents?" he asked in complete innocence...it seemed odd to see the two girls apart...they were never apart...and Vincent mulled over the fact that they may have had a tiff, they seemed unusually quiet.

Pausing to look at Jen, the scent of her perfume in the air, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, the perfume seemed incredibly musky. "Hi Jen' God bless you for coming, should only take a couple of hours."

She had found herself looking absent-mindedly at the front of his black trousers...then glancing past him to see Marilyn slowly raising one foot to prop it on her bench...her dress slid halfway up her thigh. Vincent smiled and turned towards Marilyn who simultaneously winked at Jen to run the camera.

Cameras roll...action! ....

30 feet away, Sister Mary's arms dropped to her sides...still leaning into the window jamb, she began to stroke her mound through the cotton nightie, this was a once in a lifetime cameo performance and she had no intentions of missing a morsel.

Father Vincent stopped dead in his tracks. Marilyn by now had allowed her legs to fall about 9 inches apart, with her arms propping her shoulders, a dark flower loose in her hand. Her lower lip pouted as she spoke, "Have you come to look at my flower, Father? Would you like to smell it, it is lovely...smells like chocolate, I think it is called chocolate Cosmos."

Vincent suddenly felt faint...something was happening and it all felt vaguely like a film set, which of course, it was...he couldn't help but notice Marilyn was wearing lilac knickers and a narrow sliver of wetness was clearly visible disappearing into the crevice of her bottom. 

Jennifer meanwhile had boldly picked up the camera and with some skill was recording every movement. Her other hand was buried in her lap, knuckles pressing firmly into her mound. Her face, neck and arms glowed pink, her breasts heaving with the thrill of it all as she aimed the camera, zoomed and focussed into the centre of Jennifer's plump and petulant fanny, alternating to the highly visible bulge poking from within Vincent's trousers. 

Vincent was only a metre away from Marilyn and unbelievably facing towards Jen', to whom he seemed oblivious....Marilyn's legs fell further apart as she spoke..."I have got something to show you Father, a picture I took earlier, would you like to see it?" 

Mar' winked and beckoned to Jen to bring the camera over, who switched back to auto mode, smiled at Father Vincent and handed it to Mar' she then settled back into her seat to watch.

He looked at the image of the still shot from the car...Jen had zoomed to Marilyn's legs spread even further apart than they were now, coupled with the lewdest seductive expression, she had taken the trouble to slide her wet, pink tongue half an inch from her mouth. The whole effect embodied her unabashed lust.

Marilyn switched settings and began to run the video...Vincent seemed totally unaware of the erection he was sporting a few inches from Marilyn's face. He watched in horror as he looked at the little screen, unable to believe his eyes...it looked like he was propositioning her....

"I don't really want much, Father Vincent, I just want to give you some pleasure...no-one will ever know...her hand had dropped so her fingers were draped in front of her rapidly growing damp patch as she switched off the film....She waggled it at Jen to look after as she slid a finger inside her knickers. 

Vincent stood comatose, blinded by his predicament, unspoken blackmail rendering him static as Marilyn placed her other hand on his bulge and began gently stroking him, fingers simultaneously fondling her tumescent clitoris. She reached and tugged his zipper down.

Sister Mary was now oozing juice onto her fingers in her lofty perch and down below, Jennifer was seriously thinking about it as she absent-mindedly tweaked and squeezed her own nipple...she had second guessed what Marilyn would do today, but hadn't quite allowed for the impending flow of electric sex across the courtyard. She had never felt so aroused and feeling very secure in this little theatre of lust, she opened her legs and began to fondle herself.

Marilyn now had both hands around Vincent's muscle and was moving it up and down...it was so slippery and warm in her hands, pulsing like a little animal as she wanked him till the bulbous head peeked out from his foreskin...she leaned her head towards him and sipped the tip of its creamy glaze...three or four laps later, she slid her mouth halfway down, her saliva trickling along until it disappeared below his balls.

Mary could stand it no more, she wanted to get closer...this was too good to miss...she picked up her camera, switched it on and headed for the stair...the portico window would be perfect...she almost ran from the room in her bare feet and turned into the corridor...just as she passed Christine's door, a movement compelled her to stop. The door was ajar; she looked around it to see her chambermaid sprawled wantonly in a chair by the window, furiously sliding what looked like a courgette in and out of her visibly oily fanny, wearing only a maroon slip and knickers, her face dripping with perspiration. 

With camera rolling, Mary crept closer and closer, Christine's eyes were closed tight, her mouth half open, muttering something in Portuguese. "Mmmmeoowww Eu quero sugá-la, eu quero sugá-lo demasiado e eu quero-os ambos sugar-me." 

She almost jumped out of her skin as Mary switched the camera off and spoke, "I think we should have a chat about this later, Christine, but I don't want you to be afraid, lots of young girls do that." She reached forward, cupped her breast, leant towards her and kissed her fully on the mouth, the tip of her tongue just snaking inside. Christine almost fainted and slumped in her chair as Mary left the room.

By now, Vincent had completely lost the plot and just stood trembling as Marilyn slurped and sucked him, her eyes rolling in her head...she was fast approaching a climax, but desperately wanted Vincent to cum first, then she noticed Jennifer from the corner of her eye...she had quietly moved towards them and was seated on the ground within a yard of them with the camera once more in action.

Vincent became aware of her and turned helplessly, with pleading eyes, only to see another part of the nightmare. Jennifer's legs were open too, her sticky wet fingers stroking her pretty white satin undies and sheer stockings making an impossibly erotic scene. Jen kept the camera rolling as she got onto all fours and crawled towards them, a rather filthy smile playing around her lips. She sat herself close to Marilyn and moved her head in close....Mar' turned, drew her mouth from the swollen cock and smiled at her friend, "Share some of this lovely warm cock with me, honey." She took the camera from her hand and aimed it carefully as Jen's lips encircled the head....

"Mmm this is so good, Jen', cup his balls for me."

Jen' wallowed her mouth up and down, milking the lovely firm muscle for all she was worth..Marilyn moved her mouth closer until both their mouths were taking it in turn to wank and suck the poor Father until his breathing began to hasten, his face glowing, legs shaking as his climax rushed to meet them.

Jen felt Marilyn's hand stroke along her thigh and between her legs to stroke her fondling hand...she reached across to mirror her and felt her honeyed fingers pulled inside...both girls were a hairsbreadth from orgasm as Father Vincent suddenly shot a stream of warm milky spunk straight at them. It hit Jennifer on her eyelid and cheek and splashed across to land squarely on Marilyn's mouth. The second jet followed seconds later, the spasm sent it dead centre of Jennifer's throat to trickle down her cleavage and disappear into her brassiere. Droplets flew everywhere...Father Vincent sank to his knees and rolled onto the stone slabs, his cock standing incongruously proud of the black priestclothes.

Marilyn and Jennifer's ministrations brought both to orgasm a moment later, yelping and moaning, they bucked and jerked their bodies then collapsed in a heap on their seat. Jen turned to Mar and stroked her cheek, wiped a trace of milky fluid from her mouth and kissed her lips like a child.

Mary, meanwhile, was now on her second orgasm and stifled her gasps as the rush of blood coursed through her body once again. Her first had come when both girls had run their mouths along either side of Vincent's cock. The second began as the two girls kissed. The camera battery had died five minutes previously, but she had more than enough footage for her purpose. Her thoughts turned to Christine, aloft in her bedroom, who despite her earlier fright was gleefully hitting her own second coming by courtesy of the perfect stalk of courgette.

Marilyn spoke first, "What happens now, Jen?"

"We've got flowers to arrange, bonny lass...a quick wash and we can get cracking...are you coming Father Vincent?"

Vincent didn't know if he was coming or going and followed dejectedly, tucking his shrinking member back in its rightful place, shaking his head in defeat at his predicament, he knew that if Father O' Flynn the Parish priest ever saw that video, his work as a priest was finished forever. He felt helpless as he watched the two girls wiggling their bottoms as they entered the Sacristy, covered their heads with little handkerchiefs and behaving as if nothing had happened. He waved in the direction of the flowers..."Everything you need is there, ladies...I will come over if you need me."

The girls giggled at the weak joke and busied themselves with the vases and blooms.

Sister Mary took the stairs two at a time and stopped at Christine's door, she pushed it open, Christine was nowhere to be seen, then she heard the sound of the shower.... She tiptoed into the bathroom to see Christine's naked form behind the Perspex door....




Bless me Father Ch. 02



to be continued........



Bless me Father Ch. 03



Still dressed in her nightgown, Mary suddenly and needlessly felt slightly naked. There was no fear of being discovered, no-one ever came near their quarters, but the guilt of her potential blackmail hung heavily on her shoulders. She wouldn't dream of hurting Christine, the little video was no more than a ploy to get closer to her and have her wicked way, but it left her feeling a little ashamed of her actions...nevertheless, her sexual instincts were driving her to places she had never visited. The scent of Sanderson's Ivory and Rose permeated the air, arousing her passion even further.

Christine hadn't been overly troubled by Mary's sudden appearance in her room and her overtones hinted very strongly that the only thing she was interested in was her body. A blind man on a galloping horse could see that, what was the worst thing that could happen? 

She had been teasing and tempting Mary for long enough...and apart from anything else, she was flattered and aroused by her attention. Christine was a long way from Chamusca...a stranger in a foreign land. If her continuance as an employee required that she succumb to Mary's advances, so what....Mary was a very comely woman for her age and an essentially beautiful person...if Mary wanted to slide her tongue into her mouth, why would she resist?

Christine had almost finished her shower; she rubbed the heavily laced, soapy sponge one last time between her legs and under her arms before finally rinsing herself with clear warm water. She felt an unexpected draught of cool air as the shower door opened behind her, instinctively she knew it was Mary...it couldn't be anyone else. 

The chamber was huge...each room in the vicarage was furnished by the indulgence of the parishioners and although the furnishing was spartan and clinical, the bathrooms were relatively sumptuous.

An eternity seemed to pass. She knew that Mary was behind her, studying her body and she had no intention of disturbing her, so she dwelt in the warm cascade, head tilted back, wallowing in the cosy waterfall humming a Nellie Furtado tune to herself. 

"You're tão receoso do que povos puderam dizer mas that' causa you' da aprovação de s; re somente. You' humano; re tão receoso de que povos puderam dizer. You're ir quebrar Satisfaça assim don't fá-lo."

Although she had anticipated it, the sudden touch of Mary's finger between her shoulder blades made her jump. Christine didn't turn round, but continued to hum the melancholy Fado tune as the finger traced a line down her spine. The movement stopped at her coccyx. Seconds passed before both hands were placed gently but purposefully on her shoulders. The feeling was really quite delicious...her shoulders fell as the tension reduced and Mary's hands slid slowly but surely to her waist. She switched off the shower and the unlikely pair paused in the sudden deafening silence.

Mary leant her head against the hollow of Christine's sinuous spine. Her hands curled around and upwards and slid into place below her beautifully sculptured breasts. This could be heaven...nothing in her life's experience had ever felt so wonderful...maybe this was heaven. The key to world peace. Christine's body an essay in wet silk had a life of its own and seemed to magnetize the exploration of her fingers. 

With enormous tenderness, she cupped the perfect up tilting orbs in her palms, sinuously curling her fingers until they captured the wine cork nipples. As she squeezed and tweaked the olive teats, she felt a liquid surge in her loins as the natural juices flooded into place.

Kissing in tiny pecks, she worked her way south along the spine, pausing at the split in her bottom before pressing her face tighter into the groove. She moaned with pleasure, snaking out her tongue to lick the water trickling from above.

Christine bent almost imperceptibly at her touch...she placed her hands against the wall tiles to steady herself...somehow she knew that this journey was just beginning as she pressed her bottom into Mary's face to acknowledge her acquiescence.

One hand remained, teasing and squeezing her taut little nipple...the other hand was sliding down towards her pert bum and she would do nothing to change that experience... images flitted through her mind....Marilyn's mouth engulfing Father Vincent's warm, erect and reluctant cock. Jennifer's lips joining her as they buried him in compromise.... Mary's mouth and fingers were sending her to heaven.

A finger moved between her legs and she slid them apart to accommodate it. She shaved herself as a matter of course and her entire pubic area was sleek and smooth as satin. The finger slid slowly along her groove, pausing at the tiny, tight hole of her bottom to enter just a fraction...just gauging her reaction, which she betrayed with her complete inertia.

Despite the cascade of water, the entrance to her slit was syrupy and creamy with her juice. Two fingers slipped across the opening, a slow and steady rhythm, not unlike the way she often indulged herself, barely touching her hooded clitoris, teasing and lubricating her engorged lips. A thumb pressed teasingly against her other little hole...she switched the shower back on as Mary climbed into the chamber and closed the door.

Christine towards her and their faces plunged together. Lips and tongues and teeth wallowed together like oysters in honey. Both women locked at the mouth like Siamese twins. Christine broke the suction by sliding her body onto the floor of the shower to rest her mouth level with Mary's mound. Hidden in a "V" of gingery hair, she really did have a very pretty, almost...girl-like little fanny. 

Christine moaned as she nuzzled it with her nose...her tongue snaked out to lap at the hood as she slid the long middle finger of her left hand inside. She had no reason to think that Mary's G spot was any different to hers and gently probed until Mary's gasp betrayed her success.

Mary almost shrieked ..."Oh God almighty, Jesus Christ and all the angels, if I am due to die, spare me five more minutes and I will go in peace."

Christine's right hand abandoned squeezing the cheeks of Mary's buttocks and slid into the groove to dip a half inch inside her bum. Mary squeaked in delight and pressed herself onto both hands to accelerate her orgasm. It arrived in a helter skelter of gasps and cries and uncontrolled spasms. She almost slid to the ground...

Christine managed to steady her, even though she had one finger deep inside, massaging the centre of Mary's universe like her life depended on it, one finger wanking her hood as she sucked at the plump little nut inside. The index finger of her other hand was, moving slowly in and out of her other little hole, with a skill beyond her wildest dreams.

Neither woman heard the door re-opening.

Father Vincent had come upstairs to speak to Mary...she was his friend and confidante and although he had no clue what to say, still dumbstruck and confused, he had to speak to someone about his unsolicited experience. He had left Jennifer and Marilyn behaving as though nothing had happened. Mary wasn't in her room, so he tapped on Christine's door and put his head around hoping for some clue to the whereabouts of his friend.

He watched the scene in awe...albeit shrouded in the haze of steam, he could clearly see both women locked together in sexual embrace and for the second time in an hour, he felt the surge of blood engorge his cock. He crept closer and closer until the door suddenly flew open, accidentally sprung in the throes of passion.

Mary had seen him first. Fully aroused from climax, her body was primed for anything. She seemed neither surprised nor perturbed to see him.

"Vincent...you do seem a little overdressed, why don't you join us?"....

With that, she grabbed at his lapel and pulled him into the chamber. Speechless with confusion, he could only watch as both women divested him in the cascade of hot water until he stood in all his glory. Well formed and toned, his helpless physique was now putty in their hands...

Both women began to kiss and fondle his chest and thighs, buttocks and limbs, watching as his fully erect cock pulsing once again to the ministrations of two women. They fell upon it like a pack of dogs, kissing and licking it with fervour and lust...Mary was first to put it into her mouth, knelt before him, sucking it furiously and all the while squeezing her breasts and moaning some indecipherable prayer.

Christine had elected to enhance the moment...turning her back, she leant her head against the wall of the shower, knowing full well that despite Mary's undoubtedly delicious fellatio, he would not be able to ignore her display.

She began to spread her legs, the perfect line and hollow of her spine splitting at the taut cheeks of her bottom. She bent her body forward, reaching her hands down to spread the cheeks apart, exposing the smooth pink slit of her fanny. She spoke very good English, but lapsed into Portuguese when she ran out of words.

"Please fuck me Father Vincent, please, please, deslize por favor sua torneira em meu furo."

Mary sat back onto the floor, happy to catch her breath and watch as the priest turned his attention to her chambermaid. 

For the first time in his life, Vincent grasped a woman by her hips and slid his throbbing muscle between her legs. His inexperience allowed the tip to slide around in sexual confusion until Christine's guiding hands pulled the engorged cock into her sodden quim. He began to rock to and fro, thrusting like a boy with no care for consequence. 

As the cock moved in and out of her, like an uncontrolled piston, she knew one thing for certain...Vincent had never done this before and if she timed it right and used all her feminine guile, she could have really amazing sex every few weeks...he would be absolutely ripe for it...like a virgin every time. 

Christine was fast approaching her peak and yelped her lust in her native tongue. "Spirre seu spunk!! Embeba-me e foda-me e drene-o suas esferas."

Mary slid her body behind them and fondled Vincent's balls, while steadily squeezing and rubbing the dilated nut of her clitoris. Despite her leanings, she had never imagined that Vincent would have such a delectable rump and she stroked and kissed it with religious fervour as he steadily slid in and out of the girl's slit.

Christine was so aroused that her orgasm arrived within minutes. She trembled and shook uncontrollably, hastening Vincent's own climax....He didn't know what to do...he certainly didn't want to make her pregnant, but he was on a train with no brakes, so he pulled his cock from the depths of her flower and grasped it in his fist, blindly wanking the torment from his soul.

Both women knelt before him, soothing and caressing his tortured body, taking it in turns to suck him and kiss each other until he could stand it no longer. A jet of warm and milky fluid shot from his cock, catching both women in the face. They yelped simultaneously as the sticky spunk splashed and hung like icicles from their lips and cheeks and chins..Christine curled her tongue to scoop some into her mouth, she loved warm spunk and its syrupy texture...and Vincent appeared to have plenty.

Both women reached their lips together around the muscle, nibbling with their teeth and sipping the tip until his climax was spent.

They fell to the floor together, coiled in a pink and liquid heap, panting and gasping for oxygen, before curling together in a mutual and comforting bundle like pups in a litter. The warm water played over them like a waterfall.

Eventually Mary spoke, "Was there anything in particular you wanted to see me about, Vincent?"

"Nothing Mary, nothing at all, I just wanted to talk...nothing important."

To be continued...



Bless me Father Ch. 04



Ch 04 "I have been a naughty girl"

Part 1

Sister Mary's sap was fully risen, her years of reluctant celibacy had drawn to a close and she had no plans to return. Her gentle, exploratory touches of Jennifer and Marilyn during the Mass were still fresh in her mind and her clandestine liaison with Christine and Vincent in the shower had taken her to places she had never imagined. 

Mary was still technically a virgin, her oral ministrations upon Vincent's warm, tumescent cock were quite delicious...In the past, her thoughts had never dwelt for long on the contents of men's britches, her life's observations and experience of them as a species had left her jaundiced and disdainful. However, watching that lovely cock sliding smoothly in and out of Christine's smooth, pink slit had aroused a nagging twitch between her thighs and no man was better equipped to soothe it. 

Mary had harboured a fondness for the fairer sex since leaving school for convent life, although she had never really done anything about it until recently. She alleviated her basic instincts in rare moments of indulgence and morally defended it on the scales of human justice with the work she carried out amongst the stricken and unfortunate. She did have a convent dalliance with an older Brazilian sister, who, to her great disappointment was outposted to a Bangladeshi refugee camp a month later and despite her attempts, she had lost touch and hadn't seen her since.

Genuinely committed to her vocation in every other respect, her 2 year sabbatical in the orphanages of West Africa had earned her great respect and admiration from her peers. Since her arrival at St. Martin's, she had displayed particular skill and compassion in comforting the local parishioners in their sickbeds. Many schools, hospices and care homes had come to rely on her wisdom and her calming and selfless aura.

Mary however, had now tasted the ambrosia of sex and in a way, she felt that she deserved it. She only had to justify herself to her God and deep inside she was confident that he would accept her reasons - He had created her and her conscience and had also accepted her vocation. Little did she know, but Father Vincent was currently justifying precisely the same sentiments to himself.

All four women had become victims of their own success to some extent. The priest had certainly impressed them all in one way or another with his physical presence and his undeniably impressive manhood. 

Vincent did have the Achille's heel of their passive blackmail which fell squarely in the girl's favour....he was absolutely glued to them now by virtue of this imagined threat. They could essentially do as they pleased to him within the confines of the church grounds...which protected them all to some extent.

Both Vincent and Mary knew intimately the minutae of this hallowed place...the whereabouts of each inhabitant, their movements, habits, strengths and weaknesses...it would work to both of their advantage...in Mary's case to exploit her ambiguous leanings towards the priest and her chambermaid Christine... and in Vincent's case, somewhere to hide to escape the attention of his tormentors...the sacred altar and pulpit where even the boldest nymphomaniac daren't trespass and the confessional...who would have the courage to molest him in there?

The church by definition was a very private place outwith the normal solemn services and although the doors were never closed, it was very rare for a member of the public to even enter the gates. 

Vincent had been caught unawares on two occasions and was defensively keeping a very low profile, feigning migraine and backache which he imagined would protect him from the predatory girls. 

He was under no illusions...they had awakened dormant urges in his loins which he struggled to quash, they had also put him in an extremely vulnerable place in respect of his role as a priest in this or any other parish...he had to find a balance until his novelty value wore off and things coulld return to normal, he found it impossible to be angry at anyone and actually blamed himself the most for his own weakness in dealing with it professionally...but he was on a hiding to nothing....A devout Carmelite Nun and her reluctant immigrant assistant and two apparent "pinkies" ....who would believe him?

Marilyn and Jennifer couldn't shake Father Vincent from their mind...although they were truly very fond of him and had no wish to hurt him, he had become their sexual focus and they discussed their seduction of him quite freely. The encounter had drawn the girls even closer together than they would have imagined and whenever the opportunity arose, they used it as a springboard to fall into each other's embrace...he had become a catalyst for their own erotic interludes. 

Their birth of sexual awareness, like most girls, had been at school, using boys to heighten their exhibitionist arousal. It never went any further, in fact both girls remained virgo intacto until devoured by marriage. 

During their last year at school, when Marilyn was head girl, the girls had progressed into minor role-playing, preferring it to the complications and compromises ensuing from liaisons with boys. 

As 18 year olds, preparing for University, they spent hours at home in each other's company listening to music, planning their careers and discussing every topic under the sun. It seemed perfectly natural for Marilyn to slip into the role of naughty girl, with the slightly more serious Jennifer assuming the position of teacher. Marilyn even dressed for the occasion in her school uniform to enhance the experience.

The naughty little sessions would invariably run out of control and the language become more ripe and lusty, as they discussed their plump buttocks, firm breasts and slippery slits. They would begin with giggles and tickles, but rapidly progress to the more seductive.

Completely aroused and with heaving bosom, Marilyn would breathlessly pant "Are you going to pull my knickers down, Miss? "

"You have been a naughty girl, I am going to have to spank you"

Jennifer would pull her across her lap, carefully positioning her until their mounds were pressed together. Slowly and steadily she would raise Marilyn's skirt, exposing her thighs and the pale blue school knickers covering her tightly muscled rump. Minutes would invariably pass as they both savoured the moment and quivered in anticipation. Jennifer adored Marilyn's bottom and before delivering a slap, she would gaze at it and run her fingers over it, heightening Marilyn's arousal until they could bear it no longer.

The spankings were fairly gentle affairs, barely reddening the cheeks. The purpose was arousal rather than fulfillment and the girlish, staccato conversation steered their actions towards the inevitable juicing of their peaches. 

"Oooh miss, my bottom is stinging, it must be turning red by now"

Jennifer would wriggle the knickers down to her thighs

"Yes, you naughty girl, your bottom is very pink now, perhaps this will teach you a lesson for the future"

The slow and gentle slaps would continue, punctuated by gasps and mewings from both, until they felt the ooze of oily syrup from their bursting little quims. Invariably the language becoming riper and more rude. The girls loved to talk dirty, it just excited them all the more. 

"What have you got to say for yourself now, young lady?"

"I am absolutely soaking between my legs, miss, my fanny slit is all slippery and wet and my nipples have turned so stiff....your spanking has made me very horny"

"Well, young lady, my fanny is dripping with creamy, sticky syrup, just like a man's warm spunk, so what are we going to do about it? "

"Oooh miss!! I shall have to stroke my pussy and wank my clitty bud until I cum all over my fingers, then I shall have to lick it all up "

Jennifer would watch, spellbound and completely aroused, as her friend collapsed on the carpet, rubbing her sodden quim until she climaxed in a welter of gasps and moans. The spectacle would spur her to delve her fingers down the front of her knickers and rapidly rub her aching lips until she too reached a shuddering orgasm...sometimes Marilyn would crawl towards her with a wicked lusty leer and lick Jen's fingers as she wanked, enhancing her excitement and guaranteeing spectacular orgasms.

Neither young woman perceived their antics as anything other than a sexual game. They had played out their little fantasies for years. No-one got hurt, no-one got pregnant and no-one even noticed. They lived comfortable lives, shared every thought and were generally really happy.

Marilyn, however, did harbour frequent lusty thoughts about Vincent. He was a very attractive man in her eyes, not particularly in his physical attributes, although they were self -evident, but more his unique vainless manner and his open-minded view of the 21st Century. Her husband, although essentially a decent and harmless individual lacked any real sparkle as a man. 

Predictable and lacklustre, he played golf and watched endless rugby matches, always wore a tie, kept his hair short, cut the grass on Sundays, made blokey jokes with his friends and generally bored her to distraction. Her closeness to Jennifer compensated in so many ways for his breadwinning ' lump of wood ' personality.

The endurance of the girl's relationship was due in part to this mutual acceptance of life's conditioning. Jennifer's husband was a carbon copy in many ways, he had his hobbies and his barrack room politics and his work...her efforts at arousal commonly met with ambivalence and indifference. The only time that Jen really enjoyed his company was when they took their annual trips abroad to Spain or Cyprus or wherever. Separated from his comfort zone, he would become far more attentive towards her... although Jennifer viewed this as an insecurity. 

She particularly enjoyed the warm summer nights on the balconies of the Costas, sipping icy cold wine and exploiting the anonymous holiday ambience to bend over in her bikini, wiggling her bottom to prime his cock or show too much breast or thigh in a restaurant in the hope of luring his face between her legs when they returned to their apartment. Sadly, he was not overly keen on cunnilingus, preferring to assuage his lust by fucking her for 20 minutes until her teeth rattled then promptly falling asleep with his sticky member shrinking to nothing inside her.

Jen's liaisons with Marilyn were different. They had a myriad of ways to arouse and satisfy each other sexually and took every opportunity to indulge themselves. Their only boundaries were mutual and respected. No petty jealousies or sexual politics penetrated their world. Living relatively comfortable lives, they intended to keep it that way. They were, incidentally completely unaware of Father Vincent's embryo relationship with his secretary and her chambermaid.........

Part 2 

Saturday's dawn split the darkness with shafts of pink and orange. Mid July was Mary's favourite time of year. Rising at dawn in the winter brought feelings of sack-cloth and penance. She climbed straight from the swaddling duvet into the shower and sang to herself as the embracing liquid played around her body. She dressed in her Quakerlike working habit and headed towards the kitchen where her trusted maid should be preparing breakfast. 

Christine was a cat-napper by nature, so was rarely tired and always 'there' when duty called. She was an extremely fit young woman of 27 tender years and led a comfortable secure existence in the midst of this fairly oddball group of people. 

Rising an hour earlier than Mary, she had showered and dressed, smoked a cigarette, brewed the coffee and with Radio 2 hovering in the air, she was scrambling Mary's eggs in butter and creme fraiche as she entered the kitchen. The Portuguese are accustomed to cakes and sweet things for breakfast and although Christine was bemused by the British penchant for eggs and bacon, she prepared their breakfasts with good humour and no small amount of skill. Most of the priests would cheerfully wolf down the sizzling crispy rashers, sunnyside ups, fried slice, tomatoes and mushrooms. Vincent preferred a kipper or a couple of poached on toast.

" Morning Christine, how are you today, my dear?"

"Hola, sister, I am very fine, obrigado, it is a beautiful morning"

"I've been thinking, would you help me change the curtains in the Father's lounge please, my dear, it must be six months now and they could do with a launder....we can put up those light cotton ones now . Call me when you have finished with the breakfast things and we can fetch the stepladder from the garage and have the place brightened before lunch."

"Okie dokie, Sister Mary, meu prazer."

The kitchen quickly filled with ravenous priests and Mary engaged each of them in conversation, carefully watching Vincent for any trace of discomfort. He betrayed none, engaging her in polite, straightforward pleasantries before chatting quite earnestly with Fathers Ward and O'Halloran about the impending visit of the Archbishop for their 50th Anniversary celebrations. 

The Fathers were genuinely excited, between them and their predecessors, they had run a very professional parish over the years and in this part of the city that was no mean feat. Many of their flock were unemployed and reliant upon the social system and their success in managing this environment had bestowed them as a working model for all the parishes of the Diocese.

Mary excused herself, thanking Christine for her tasty meal and headed for the Library. She had a bit of catching up to do with her book-keeping - a chore she deplored, but an hour or so would make a significant dent in the task and bring her close to readiness for the September audit. She elected to collect the aluminium stepladder en-route, killing 2 birds with one stone in the process and chuckled to herself as a foraging field-mouse scampered beneath her feet, startled back to its' nest amongst the tool boxes and paint tins. Mary mock-mawkishly began to sing.

"All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small.

All things mouse and pussycat, the Lord God made them all"

An hour's studious labour shuffling invoices and receipts, logging in data in the accounts book and suddenly she was finished...Mary mused to herself that most jobs are never quite so bad as they seem and headed for the Father's Lounge, lugging the stepladder hooked into the crook of her arm.

Christine was already there, dusting the furniture. Mary watched her for a few moments before unfolding the steps and putting them into position in front of the window.

"Are you ok with heights my dear?"

"Yes, Sister...back home in Portugal in my mother's orchard we would use ladders to collect the fruit and the olives - I have no fear of high ups"

"If you can unhook and lower the curtains, I will pass up the new ones for you to hang"

Mary steadied the steps for the girl and watched very carefully as her waist, then her hips, then her legs and feet passed her eyes.

Christine knew exactly what was happening and climbed steadily until her ankles were level with Mary's eyes. She began to unhook the curtains, fully aware that Mary was looking up her dress.

Mary studied the shapely, bare legs, relishing the moments as her eyes moved slowly upwards. Perfectly formed thighs, slender and olive hued...she felt a warm glow between her legs as the curve of Christine's rounded bottom appeared. She was wearing cream coloured nylon knickers and deliberately placed her feet as wide apart as possible to give Mary the optimum view.

Mary's right hand strayed down to gently stroke the front of her skirt.

Eventually the first curtain was ready and Christine lowered it, lifting her leg slightly in the process. Mary watched as the gap between her legs widened. The folds, creases and puffy mound of her nylon clad flower were clearly visible through the skimpy material.

Not a word was spoken as she took the curtain and dropped it to the floor. Wild horses with flaming nostrils would not have averted Mary's eyes.

She became more and more aroused as Christine unhooked the next drape, both women knowing full well what the other was doing...the silence spoke volumes. Mary felt a distinct dampness between her legs and watched in awe as the same thing happened to Christine. A damp patch was forming in the crease of her knickers and a moist glow at the very top of her thighs. Mary felt a screaming urge to reach her hand up and stroke the beautiful peach.

It became the slowest curtain hanging in history...exhibitionist and voyeur wallowing in the liquid moments of their mutual arousal. 

Eventually the task was finished. Both women now had seriously wet knickers with seriously syrupy contents. Christine began to slowly descend but stopped in her tracks, one foot a rung higher than the other as Mary's hand slid inexorably up her thigh. The fingers of her right hand slipped the nylon easily aside and she almost gasped as she felt the oily lips of the girl's quim. 

Christine trembled so much that the ladder shook. Mary raised her left hand to stroke and squeeze the curves of her bum. She was about to put both sets of fingers into the juicy recess when she heard footsteps in the corridor outside.

Removing her sticky fingers, she swiftly regained her composure and began to chatter about the curtains..

"We should really shop around, my dear...these are nice, but the colours fade so much in the sun. We should go to the market soon and find some more..I'll fetch the tape and we can size them...Oh! Hello Father O'Flynn...I'll be with you in a moment"

The ageing priest leant against the door frame polishing his spectacles." No hurry, Sister, I was looking for company, the other Fathers have all gone to their duties"

Christine bustled past him, looking very flushed

"'scuse Padre, I have so much laundering to do today"

"You should slow down, young lady, you will have a turn - would you bring us some tea, please when you have a minute? "

"I will be back in no flat minutes, padre" 

As the girl disappeared in a haze of musk, Mary settled to chat with the old father for a while, noticing how tired and grey he looked. It would not be long until he retired and she pondered his replacement even as they spoke. Vincent was the likeliest candidate, the diocese would surely promote internally in such a successful church. Mary relaxed into her conversation, pausing only when Christine returned bearing a tray of tea and biscuits.

Christine impishly stood with her back to Mary as she bent to serve the priest, Mary studied the perfect bubble bottom before her, the girls visible panty line seemed to take the form of an invitation and she reached out a finger to trace the outline. Christine didn't flinch, betraying her anticipation and remained in position as long as she dared before straightening as if to leave.

Mary watched in slow motion as the sugar bowl slid from the tray to empty its contents on the floor

"Madre de dias! I am so sorry...I will fetch a brush" 

She scurried off to fetch it, returning surprisingly quickly and began to sweep up the mess. With her back to the priest, she squatted to one side of Mary and slowly opened her legs. Mary watched in amazement as the gap widened, the vee of her creamy knickers opened into a perfect hourglass with a very distinct damp stain extending the full extent of her slit, right into the curve of her bottom. 

Mary squirmed in her seat, excited and aroused, she was being teased out of her mind today and she was loving every second of it. She knew in reality that the girl would share her favours quite willingly, but she was really enjoying the whole taboo and the delicious wet feeling in her loins. She excused herself to leave, treating the still kneeling maid to a glimpse up her own skirt before bustling off to her office and the inevitable pile of mail.




Bless me Father Ch. 04



Part 3

Saturday and wednesday evenings were confessionals..Wednesdays for the bored or the desperate and Saturdays for the penitent and the guilty. Father O'Halloran volubly dispensed absolution in one cubicle while Vincent whispered in his.The cubicle doors were solid, with a stained glass image of St. Martin knelt in prayer on one side and St Christopher bearing his lamb across the stream on the other.

Marilyn and Jennifer laid a lace handkerchief on each others heads as they entered the Nave and took a seat at the far end of a pew at the rear. Modelled on the private box-pews of churches in years gone by, the high backs of the rear seats provided a deal of privacy to each row and the girls whispered, unseen as they waited for a vacant confessional box. 

Mary had seen the girls from the Sacristy and followed a few moments later. She was fully robed in the habit of her order and looked almost dramatic and truly quite sexy as she side-stepped into the same row as the girls and settled beside them

"Good evening my dears" she whispered as she unfurled her rosary beads

"Good evening Sister Mary" they chorused .

The church was unusually quiet for a Saturday night, a big football match had gobbled up most of the men and quite a few women too...neither Jen nor Marilyn were remotely interested in grown men kicking a bag of air around a field and anyway, neither girl had even seen Vincent since their seduction and they both wanted to make contact with him for a debriefing.

Vincent felt very secure in his confessional box. The cubicle was deliberately gloomy and smelled vaguely of incense. A close knit ornamental mesh separated the priest from the penitent. neither party could clearly see the other, although the way the mesh was punched, the priest could quite easily recognize who was on the other side. 

A procession of old ladies and children flitted in and out, most staying no longer than two or three minutes...absolution dispensed, they mostly returned to the nave to serve their penance of Hail Marys and Our Fathers before disappearing into the evening sunshine.

Finally it was Marilyn's turn. She rose to make her way along the pews, excusing herself past Sister Mary. She almost knew for certain what would happen, but it didn't deter her. She smiled at Mary. who smiled right back and began to edge past. Almost inevitably she felt a hand slide slowly up her dress, this time it didn't pause and she felt Mary's fingers touch her knickers and press into her crease. She paused for several seconds which seemed eternal and closed her eyes in the rapture of the moment. 

Jennifer watched every second, slightly spellbound, knowing she was next.

Marilyn disappeared into the cubicle, the clock struck eight. 

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned, it is three weeks since my last confession and these are my sins"

"Are you truly penitent for your transgressions?"

"Yes Father"

"For what you are about to disclose, I may dispense absolution, the Lord God may decide otherwise on judgement day"

"I have not been a good girl, Father, in fact I have been rather naughty"

Vincent froze slightly as he recognized Marilyn's voice. He had not been to confession himself since their episode - he couldn't go in his own church for obvious reasons and was looking for the opportunity to be anonymous elsewhere in the city. 

"I have been having intimate moments with a girlfriend...although apart from the infidelity to my husband, I am very fond of her and I don't see the harm...why is it a sin? But I also lied to my husband about what I had been doing one morning when I was with her...I told him I was arranging flowers at the church, when in fact I was propositioning a Catholic priest. I'm afraid to say that I don't really feel guilty about either sin, lying to my husband was an irrelevence, he wasn't even interested, and propositioning the priest was so exciting and arousing and made me feel so good...I do feel a bit guilty about blackmailing the priest, but the truth is, I am very attracted to him...he is not like other men, he is tender and gentle and naive and drop-dead sexy"

"You do realise the position you have put the priest in, my child?"

"Yes Father, but when I felt the warm hard muscles of his body, I was helpless..the temptation was too great for me...I'm not a bad person, I don't hurt people, I am not envious...I help wherever I can...is it so bad to have a little pleasure here and there...."

"The sin is not always in the act, it is also the consequences of your actions...I will absolve these sins if you attend evening mass on a weekday for the next month and say a novena to the Blessed virgin...te absolvo, in nomine patrus et filius et spiritu sanctu, amen"

Marilyn left the box, somewhat chastened, to discover that Sister Mary had moved into her seat and was engaging Jennifer in light conversation...unbeknown to her, Mary was flirting like fury..her palest hazel eyes hypnotising and bewitching her friend, her soft voice and smile seducing her to the point where she was squirming moistly in her seat. 

Spotting Marilyn's approach, Jen stood to pass the Sister and the anticipated hand slid up her skirt. To Mary's surprise and delight, Jennifer was wearing a pair of pale grey French knickers and she too paused as Mary's exploratory fingers crept inside. Her plump, pink lips split open to welcome the slender digits as Mary rolled her eyes at the oily sensation of her quim.

Marilyn sensed more than seen what was happening and stood aside to allow Jen to pass. She touched her arm in reassurance and whispered that Father Vincent was having no nonsense, so better put on a brave and humble face to receive her penance.

Marilyn tactfully sat on the safe side of Mary and bowed her head to begin her novena. She needn't have worried, Mary may have her weaknesses, but she was no bully. Three times today she had put a hand up someones' skirt and was quite satisfied for the time being. She would happily relieve her lust in the comfort of her quarters. 

Vincent was nothing if not fair. He listened to the almost carbon copy confession, watching Jennifer's head bow as he gave her the same penance. He was no fool and knew that this was not the end of the matter, but his impersonal and detached absolution merely bought him some time as he racked his brain to find a solution to escape their blackmail. He fortunately had a very wise old friend in the City who not only heard his periodic confession, but happened to be the soul of discretion and he intended to seek his advice. 

to be continued..... 



Bless me Father Ch. 05



Ch05 "confession is good for the soul"

Marilyn and Jennifer walked home arm-in-arm, humbled a little by Fr. Vincent's words, their consciences were practically clear. The girls had arranged to sleep-over at Jennifer's house..Mar's husband had hooked up with Jen's for a rugby weekend in Yorkshire and they had the place to themselves.

When they arrived, Marilyn shoo-ed Jennifer into the garden to catch the last of the evening, then headed for the fridge to collect an unopened bottle of white Burgundy and a summer pudding she had made the previous night.

Jen sat with her eyes closed, the still warm sun bathing her body. She had hitched up her dress to knee level and unbuttoned the breast-top buttons to wallow comfortably in its glow.

Almost asleep, she never heard Marilyn's bare footfall through the grass. 

Marilyn stood to one side holding their supper tray, deliberately preventing the cast of her shadow from rousing her friend. Gingerly, she laid the tray on the freshly cropped lawn, tutting to herself in the process. Although she had contributed greatly to the design of the garden and its' perfect privacy, she disliked the austerity of the lawn, preferring a 'meadow' feeling...but boys and toys kept it cropped to bowling green standard with ridiculously straight, unnatural and pointless stripes. That argument would prevail...she often considered sabotaging the bloody lawnmower, hanging from its' cup-hooks in the shed, clean as the day it was bought, with a faint scent of WD40 and a smug look on its' face..."

"What would happen if I put some sugar in the tank?" she mused...

She knelt in front of Jen' and looked her over from the tousled sandy locks to the suntanned little toes peeking through her sandals. A pretty girl by day and night, the twilight gold of the evening enhanced the image. 

Hungry for company, she lifted Jen's hand and put the middle finger between her lips. It tasted of grass...absent mindedly stroked before she had drifted into slumber. 

Marilyn suckled the neat, dark pink fingernail, waiting for a reaction.

"Mmm I could lie here all night, it is so nice."

"Would you like some cold wine? "

"yes please"

Marilyn dipped the lazy finger into her glass, swirled it around and placed it into Jen's mouth. She giggled, girlishly as the familiar, fruity acid chill hit her taste buds. "Did I hear you mention summer pudding? "

A spoonful of chilled tarty sponge immediately kissed her lips. Marilyn wiggled the spoon "Eat it all up, now and the next mouthful will be full of double cream." Another giggle turned into a laugh as a further spoonful, laden with berries and dripping with cream slid into her mouth.

Rolling the fruity essence around, she licked her rapidly reddening lips and languidly held out her hand for the wineglass. "Peel me a grape, wench"

Marilyn handed her a glass and watched as she sipped, allowing the icy Burgundy to dribble slightly. A tiny rivulet trickled to the end of her chin and dropped onto her throat, evaporating slowly as it headed to the curve of her breasts. Marilyn spoke very quietly.

"Do that again, Jen, it was really sexy."

Jennifer repeated her little tease, but this time with just a little more content and a few droplets of wine formed a wet patch at the top of her lace-edged grey bra. Marilyn was becoming more horny by the second and despite Jen's drowsiness she felt a very powerful need to ease the tingling between her thighs. 

"Did Sister Mary put her fingers inside you, Jen?"

"Mmmm...not quite, I am wearing those grey French knickers you bought me for Christmas. She did fondle me gently and stroked my lips a little, it was over in a couple of seconds"

"She is such a naughty Nun, she must have really studied us to behave so boldly. We are on flower duty again tomorrow...shall we treat her to a little temptation and see where it takes us?"

"That sounds like a plan to me, girlfriend, that Portugeuse girl Christine is never too far from her side and she has a delicious bum, Mar'...I wouldn't mind an eyeful of that."

"Me neither, Jen', we could have a competition between the three of us with Mary as judge!" she laughed.

A mental image drifted into Jennifer's mind as she languidly slumped further into her seat, allowing her dress to slide even further up her legs. She knew instinctively that Marilyn was watching and steadily spread her thighs further apart, inviting a perfect view up her skirt.

Marilyn had settled back onto the lawn, her face a mere few inches from those pretty dimpled knees. She relished the warm sticky feeling between her own legs as Jennifer's mound slowly appeared. The pretty French knickers had gathered to one side, heavily darkened by the dampness inside and she studied the plump swelling at the curve of the smoothly shaven lips. Marilyn knew that Jen' loved to talk dirty and invited some filthy conversation.

"Are you enjoying the view, Mar'?"

"Watching the bulge of your fanny is making my slit all slippery and sticky, it's like a little jar of syrup in there....I bet yours is just as juicy, you slutty little trollop. I have half a mind to investigate with my finger just to find out."

"You really do like looking up a dress, you horny little tart" she laughed, "be my guest and slip a digit up my pussy if you must!"

"Takes one to know one, girlie...you have peeped up my skirt a thousand times because you love it as much as me!"

"You know what I like...just the very tip of your finger slipping in and out of my cunt and a nice slow wank on my clit with your thumb."

Jennifer moved her hands onto her breasts as she felt Marilyn's finger stealing along her thigh and she rolled her nipples to hard little peaks as it reached her knickers. Moaning with pleasure, she allowed her legs to gape open as the velvety wetness began to spread. 

By now, Marilyn had thrown any caution to the wind, the light had almost gone and as she slid her fingertip in and out of the oily slit, her hand delved in between her own thighs to relieve some of the pressure. Filthy conversation was one of their favourite sex-aids and they employed it at any opportunity, their imaginations running riot with the growing arousal.

"I'm wearing a pair of pastel pink, satin knickers Jen' and they are soaking wet...I wouldn't mind Father Vincent's lovely hard cock sliding over them and pressing up into my cunt right now"

Jennifer mewed in delight at the thought "Oooh Mar' he does have a lovely one..we certainly milked his creamy spunk that morning in the courtyard...I've this picture in my head now of us both bent over, side by side and his cock taking turns in our pussies then spurting oodles of milky spunk all over our bums"

"Mmmm Jen' and we could both sit on his face and let him lap our cunts with his tongue and watch him wanking his big, hard cock and shooting creamy jets of hot spunk all over us"

By now, both girls were panting with lust and seconds away from their respective orgasms and the words came in staccato bursts

"Oooh, such sticky knickers..."

"Ooooh my cunt is dripping"

"Ooooooooh! big, hard, fat, pink, slimy cock fucking in and out of my juicy cunt"

"Ooooh! I'm going to cum a gallon of cunt juice all over your fingers, Mar' "

"Mmmm both together, Jen'.... think of Vincent's lovely warm spunk splashing on our bums...we can spread it all over our holes, then suck him off while it's still stiff!"

Simultaneously, the ferocious tingling and rush of blood coursed through their bodies in mutual climax as they gasped and panted together, breasts heaving, thighs and bellies twitching as their energy subsided. Marilyn's head flopped onto Jen's knees as they recovered their breathing.

"That was amazing, Jen'... I think I've just about emptied my honeypot....it's getting a bit chilly, shall we warm up in the shower?"

"Mmm I'd love to, Mar'...we fixed a new showerhead in the wetroom last weekend...I have tried it and it's luuuush, should cover us both at once, I will follow you up the stair, I want to see those little pink knickers for myself " she giggled.

Marilyn coyly stood up, knees pressed firmly together, brushing little blades of grass from her dress. Jennifer watched in amusement as she walked towards the house, wiggling her bottom provocatively. 

Closing the door behind her, she followed Marilyn up the stair, her breath quickening in anticipation until they almost reached the top. Mar' stopped and slowly bent forwards allowing Jen' a perfect view up her dress at her satin-clad bottom.

A tiny sigh of delight from Jen' was followed by exploratory hands, stroking the curves, then running into the crease of Mar's slit. She gasped a little at the touch, then gasped a little more as she felt Jennifer's face pressing tightly into the groove. Far from being exhausted, Jennifer's lust remained ripe and hungry as she savoured the damp, sticky folds of pink satin, inhaling the musky scent of sex.

"Get your carcase into that shower, Marilyn, I want to wash you all over till you squeak, then lick every crevice until you faint!"

Marilyn began removing her clothes on the landing as Jennifer switched on the shower. Dress, brassiere and knickers were dumped unceremoniously into the linen basket. She stepped into the cascade and watched Jennifer slowly disrobe, unbuttoning the frock from top to bottom, slowly and seductively exposing her pretty underwear. Reaching behind her, she unclasped the bra, cupping it into her hands, then turning her back, she stooped slightly as she pulled the French knickers down and let them drop to the floor. She turned towards Marilyn who was watching intently through a warm waterfall and with twirling fingers instructed her friend to turn around.

Pressing her body close, Jennifer reached for the shower gel, filled her palms she began to anoint Marilyn's body. Reaching around, she lathered, fondled, tweaked and rinsed her breasts first, eyes closed in the ardour of the moment, working her way down onto her belly, gradually emptying the bottle of gel in the process. Mar' began to tremble slightly as the soapy massage reached her mound then teasingly moved upwards into her armpits before circling around to her shoulders.

Jennifer whispered a litany of naughtiness into her ear as she worked her skilful hands along the spine. " You know what's coming next, don't you, girlie..little mischievous fingers and thumbs dipping into those slippery little holes and a very busy tongue lapping and licking along your lovely oily crease"

"Oh Jen' I'm so horny again, do anything you want to me honey, my cunt is aching"

With a wicked smile, Jennifer knelt behind her and gently washed between her legs, taking special care not to intrude too far inside her quim, to preserve the natural juices. Surreptitiously she reached for a perfectly shaped, perfectly sealed and perfectly smooth shampoo bottle. Roughly the size of a generous cock, it was absolutely ideal for what she had in mind. 

"Lean forward Mar' and brace yourself, honey"

Trembling with anticipation, Marilyn placed the palms of her hands against the tiled walls and allowed her legs to splay apart, panting quite audibly as she surrendered herself to her friend.

Jennifer placed a folded towel on the floor and knelt in position, comforting hands caressing the inside of Marilyn's thighs before heading North to the bulge of her bum. She began to spread the cheeks apart, running her fingers with barely perceptible pressure along the sweet groove until she reached the oily folds of her lips. Marilyn shuddered and began to moan quite loudly as Jen caressed the sticky petals.

Unable to resist any longer, Jennifer abandoned the crease and spread the lovely bum cheeks apart, smiling with pleasure at the perfect little puckered star, twinkling invitingly at her. She licked her way all around the luscious bottom before gently prodding with her index finger into the tiny hole.

"Oh my God, I think I am going to faint, Jen' ....if I never say this again, I am going to say it now...I confess that sex with you is better than with any man...you just know exactly what to do every time"

"Steady, old girl, the best is yet to come" she laughed back at her. Just you enjoy what's coming!"

With one fingertip sliding gently in and out of Marilyn's dear little bum hole, Jennifer reached for the shampoo bottle dildo and began to stroke it around Mar's pussy.

Feeling the cool, shiny smooth dildo around her fanny, Marilyn squeaked in surprise "What's that, Jen? have you suddenly grown a cock? "

"Yes, Mar' I have grown a nice fat cock to fuck your plump, slippery cunt"

With one finger wanking steadily in and out of Mar's bum, Jen slowly pushed the dildo between the folds of Jen's fanny lips and kept going until it was 4 or 5 inches inside. She allowed it to nestle there for a moment before steadily fucking her into an orgasm.

Marilyn gasped in frenzy "Ooooh Jen' ....I want to do exactly the same to you.....ooooh!! this is too erotic for words!!"

Marilyn's climax began somewhere in the pit of her belly. It ascended like an erupting volcano until it hit her addled brain and echoed throughout her body. Her legs trembled and quivered, her heart thumping like a motor cycle engine as she spilled her gooey ointment all over Jennifer's fingers.

"God that was nice....My head is swimming, Jen"

Jennifer giggled in acknowledgement "Glad you liked it, girlfriend....I hope you are going to honour your pledge and send me to bed with a nice warm tingle between my legs" She looked Marilyn squarely in the eye as she withdrew the sticky digits, placed them between her lips and suckled on them like a lamb. "Do your worst, blondie....I could fuck an ox right now...do whatever it takes, just make me spill my juice"

"Drama queen! ....turn round...let me kiss your bum"

Jennifer spun like a ballerina and presented her bottom to Marilyn's tender ministrations. She absolutely loved having her bottom stroked and fondled and explored....and Mar' was so accomplished...

Mar's face disappeared into the groove, nuzzling and wallowing in the slick, oystery folds of her lips and the uber-tight, little hole behind them.

Lapping into the syrupy slit, she felt Jennifer's legs buckle slightly and smiled with satisfaction. She liked few things better than making her friend feel good. Jennifer squared her universe and she would do anything to make her happy. 

The two girls loved each other - of that there is no doubt; not the eye-aching love of lovers, but the time-served bond of friendship and trust secured over years of understanding. The two girls would do anything for each other...die, lie, perjure or cry.....nothing on earth would come between them, but they rarely kissed throughout their sexual couplings, the depth of emotion was in their minds and in their loins...the Quixotic complications of 'love' never intruded on their relationship.

"I am as slippery as two oysters fucking in a pot of honey"

"I love fingering you....I love the feedback of your little hole tightening on my finger and the little gush of cunt- juice from your fanny when you cum"

"Mewwwww....I am usually thinking of lapping your cunt when I cum....burrowing my face in your knickers and fucking you with my fingers....Oooooh Marilyn....I can feel my cunt squelching....it's so-ooooo good....

"Think about tomorrow Jen'.... all that teasing and seduction we can use on Sister Mary....and her little girlfriend......we can really have some fun....dress for the occasion...something nice and sexy....make their fannies twitch"

Jennifer's imagination ran riot as she hit her orgasm ; the prospect of 4 women writhing around in utterly reckless fetish and illicit abandon was more than enough to put her over the edge and she responded to Marilyn's skilful fingering with an eye-popping climax. 

Gushes and waves of pleasure engulfed her body. She trembled and quaked, completely out of control as she sank to the shower floor.

"God that was good"

"Let's go to bed...fuck the television...I just need to sleep somewhere right now, while my body is happy and my mind is empty"

"mmm...me too....that was divine, honey"

Both girls floated to bed, still warm and damp, moist bodies enfolded as they collapsed into dreams. Deliciously exhausted and fulfilled ; arms and legs encasing and protecting, they drifted into slumber.

to be continued...........



Bless me Father Ch. 06



Ch06 "Dangerous Liaisons"

Part 1 

Mary rose at 6 a.m. resisting the urge to stroke her hands along her belly; she drove herself into the shower. Switching on the radio to her favorite, unchallenging channel, she luxuriated in the cascade as Debussy's Claire-de-Lune permeated her body. Such simple cadence providing such pleasure, Mary could easily have dwelt for hours, but the prospects of the day drove her swiftly to her towel and a robust rub-down before dressing. 

Christine was half an hour ahead, she wanted to catch Mary before breakfast and give her a little gift she had found in the market the day before. She did not have to worry too much about preparing breakfast this morning as only Father Vincent was at home. She settled herself in the window seat, her legs curled under her and waited for Mary's footfall.

"Good morning my dear." Mary lit up the room when she finally entered and announced, "I am going for a walk in the gardens this morning before breakfast, work up an appetite, watch the birds and pick some flowers....a couple of poached eggs will be perfectly fine." Mary smiled and turned to leave.

"Memento, senora," Christine smiled back, "I have little gift for you." 

Christine twisted round in her seat to pick up a small package, as she turned, her nylon overall slid up her thigh, exposing the curve of her rump. Without a doubt it was just about the most perfect bottom a woman could wish for and Mary put her hand to her mouth and watched its' swollen bulge above those perfect thighs, a warm glow spread through her loins. 

Christine's command of the English language improved each day, however, her occasional and endearing faux pas often brought a smile to Sr. Mary's face

"I saw this and wanted you to have it, Sister. I hope it makes you skipping happy in the garden." she beamed, handing Mary a beautifully gold-ribbon-wrapped, shiny scarlet packet.

Mary was not unused to receiving gifts, friendly and grateful parishioners would give her pots of honey or woolen scarves, flowers, books and all manner of religious bric-a-brac which she accepted in good grace and promptly offloaded to the Catholic charity shop. She often smiled at the prospect of some beaming little orphan sitting around in the shade, somewhere in Africa proudly wearing a woolly scarf, fanning its' face with a copy of 'People's Friend, October 1978'

"Why, thank you my dear, how thoughtful and kind of you," she responded to the gift.

"No problems, Sister, meu prazer, you are very good to me and I know there are some things a Nun just can't buy."

Curiosity aroused, Mary unwrapped her gift and the faint scent of perfume touched her senses as she unfolded the inner, pink tissue paper. At first it didn't really register what she was holding, then she felt her cheeks turn pink as she ran her fingers over a beautiful creamy-white, satin brassiere and knickers. They were beautifully trimmed in silk with dainty little lace embroidered rosebuds. She fondled the material between her fingers as she pondered a response. 

"It is easy for me, Senora, I can go Marks and Spencer, buy sexy knickers, take them to counter, pay and nobody even cares. You do not have this freedom I think, and there is no reason why a Nun shouldn't have pretty things - nothing in the bible says that" 

Christine looked her squarely in the eyes, the two women had shared sexual encounters and an unspoken discretion was skillfully employed by both.

"You are absolutely right, Christine." Mary replied," it is a lovely gift. In fact I shall wear them when I return from my walk, adios my dear, make sure Father Vincent is aroused!"

"Adios Senora - I shall arouse him in no flat minutes!"

Christine watched her elegant, robe-clad form glide along the corridor. Hidden beneath that habit was a superbly preserved body and the nuances of womanhood were betrayed at the hips and the bodice, making Mary even sexier. As the Nun disappeared, she turned her attention to Father Vincent. He should be up by now.

Vincent had lain awake for half an hour; nothing would reduce the heat in his thighs or the swelling of his manhood. The recent, unsolicited molestation by two pairs of women had both shocked and aroused him in equal measure and he didn't quite know what to do.

Eyes closed, he wrapped his ample fist around his warm shaft and began to move it up and down, just as Christine reached the door. She stooped to peek through the keyhole to hopefully catch a glimpse of him half-naked. What she did see, however, was a completely naked priest slowly touching his very impressive cock.

Almost unconsciously she licked her lips, crossed her fingers and gently tried the doorknob. Unlocked as always, it silently moved ajar and she quietly moved into the room, squatted by the doorframe and watched as the pace of his hand quickened.

"I can do that for you Father. I can stroke your lovely cock and make it hard and spurty"

Vincent almost jumped out of his skin and in reflex pulled a sheet across himself to hide his embarrassment. He groaned slightly as he watched Christine squatting against the wall, her tongue protruding slightly, breasts pressed impudently from her nylon overall and legs slowly spreading in open invitation.

"Wank your cock for me, Vincent" she invited, "show me how hard you can be."

Impossibly compromised, he meekly obeyed, his arousal heightened by Christine's wide-spread thighs. She stood slightly ungainly, exposing even more and approached the bed. Vincent lay back, closed his eyes and placed his arm across his face to blot out his shame as he felt the girl take position alongside him. Top to toe, she placed her feet near his head and nestled her head on his thigh, the bursting bulge inches from her mouth.

Reaching forward, she placed her hand around the stem and moved it up and down, her tongue snaked out and began to lick the length and around the base, gently pulling his testicles into her mouth, squeezing them with her tongue then sliding them out again. Eventually she pulled the head towards her lips and lapped the sticky recess before pulling him engorged into her mouth. Vincent's eyes opened and quickly it registered that he was staring between her legs and her very busy fingers were deftly squeezing and rubbing her clitoris. The distinct scent off her sex wafted into his nostrils and a surge of something primitive pulsed into his cock.

Christine mewed her approval and sucked with all her enthusiasm, she just adored man-juice and especially the moment before orgasm as the muscle bulged and spasmed, then the climax itself as it splashed on her face, bottom, her breasts or her quim lips.  

Removing him from her mouth, seconds before eruption, she tightened her grip slightly as she felt the first gush arrive and watched open-mouthed as the jet of milky white, creamy fluid spurted a foot in the air, splashing her hands and face and his belly as it landed. She darted her head forward and caught the second gush in her mouth, feeling the sticky splashing into her throat. She allowed the warmth to dribble around her mouth, lapping it with her tongue as her own orgasm struck.

Vincent was slightly lost, he felt he should do something, but didn't know where to begin, so he clumsily reached for her breasts and began to squeeze. He could feel the stiff nipples through her clothes and the solid curve of breasts. Naive tweaking and fondling seemed to be having the desired effect and he jumped, startled, as Christine moaned, gasped and twitched with climax.

Christine stroked and patted him in reassurance, kissing him on the cheek as she rose from the sin-bed. "Thank you ver' much Father, you are yummy, I shall prepare you some mushroom omelette and nice cup of tea?"

In a welter of confusion, he watched as the blue nylon bundle of sex straightened her clothes, smiled coyly and headed for the kitchen.

"Don't be too long Father! No one wants a warmed-up omelet!"

Part 2 

Jennifer dreamily opened her eyes, a solid shaft of sunlight spanned the room above her head, stopped dead in its' tracks, both physically and artistically by the pastel lilac bedroom wall. Ignoring this conflict, she turned and nestled her body cozily into her darling friend.

Warm, half-awake and indescribably compliant, Marilyn languidly stretched herself to the morning, her arms splayed above and behind her as she arched her back from the mattress.

Poised in this rainbow's arc, she felt simultaneously fingertips tracing both the length of her spine and gently circling her tummy button. She mewed her approval and relaxed into the finger sandwich.

Both girls wore insignificant nighties and lay for a while caressing and stroking each other through the diaphanous material. Jennifer teasing the crinkled peaks of Marilyn's breasts until they stood up like organ stops which she tweaked and nibbled with her lips. Marilyn busied herself caressing Jen's thighs and bottom through her nightie, single handedly spreading her cheeks and pressing the material into the groove. 

Jennifer spoke first."We should really be getting ready, Mar', we promised to be at the church at ten to help with the flowers for Sunday"

"I know, I know, but this is just so nice." she sighed

"Sr. Mary's little Portuguese chum will be there, with her pouting little mouth and pert little bum for us to ogle" Jen coaxed her.

"Do you think Sr. Mary has dipped her fingers into that little pie and used that tight bum as a pillow?"

"We both know Mary's persuasions, Mar' and I can't imagine she hasn't. There is only one way to find out if the girlie likes a bit of action, if we harness our resources and switch on our best seduction techniques, who knows what fun we can have."

"One small thing, Jen', don't let me see you getting dressed, I want the thrill of surprise"

Jennifer giggled her assent and jumped out of bed, giving Marilyn a teasing glimpse of her thighs before disappearing into the bathroom. Marilyn lay back with a sigh and contented herself by caressing her breasts and armpits, idly speculating what she may wear to church. 

Sulking slightly at her solitary condition, she abandoned her glorious nipples and rolled from the bed, crawling petulantly to the wardrobe, she opened the door and assessed the contents with a skilful eye. The dress had to be pretty and sexy and frivolous...thin and floaty to show off the shape of her body and that tantalizing hint of her undies. 

She settled for a 1950's style, strapless and sleeveless summer frock, primrose and white with a countryside print of buttercups and brimstone butterflies - the strong yellows endowed the whole creation with a strong sense of sunshine. She put her hand up inside the skirt in an imaginary exploration before plucking it from its' hanger and spreading it out on the bed. 

Her undies drawers were next, a minefield of silks and satins, nylon and cotton in every hue imaginable. She delighted in the whole palette, keeping knickers, garter belts and stockings in one drawer, with brassieres and slips in the other. On a shopping spree, Marilyn never chose her underwear, the underwear chose her. A pair of custard cream or sky-blue satin knickers would reach from a display and caress her cheek...she would pluck the pretty confection from its' perch and glide seamlessly to the check-out, pay whatever it said on the ticket and scurry home to add them to the gallery.

She picked out a pair of salmon colored, satin knickers with a white broderie trim, and she knew that they had a matching bra and garter belt, having bought the ensemble as a set. A pair of sheer tan stockings and salmon sling backs finished the whole creation perfectly and she grew quite excited at the prospect of dressing herself and enticing her darling Jennifer, Mary and the plump rumped Portuguese maid. Who knows, even the reluctant priest could show up.

A sudden shout broke her reverie

"Shower's free!" 

Jennifer appeared on the landing, wrapped in a huge white towel, her hair damp and wispy, her skin pink and shiny. Marilyn suddenly couldn't resist, she reached and pulled her friend tightly towards her, kissing her full on the lips. 

"You look delicious, friend." 

Jennifer responded by squeezing her bottom and whispering lustily into her ear, "Don't you dare wank off in that shower, Marilyn!"

Tugging herself free, she pushed Mar' towards the shower and headed for the kitchen. Coffee and radio occupied her mind before heading for the bedroom to dry her hair, apply her war-paint of seduction and neatly dress herself. 

Jennifer felt quite comfortable sharing Marilyn's underwear, they alternated wherever they happened to be and it gave both of them great delight knowing that they were wearing each others' skimpies. She chose carefully, selecting a pale grey satin set, virtually identical to Marilyn's choice. She loved this color and the way it darkened when it became damp, betraying her arousal. 

She had selected a dark maroon dress, slightly heavier than necessary, but the waisted, front buttoned dress had a very sexy flare and the front opened just wide enough to enable anyone casually interested to see the edge of her bra and the globes of her pouting breasts.

Both women dressed and applied their make-up simultaneously in separate rooms, a habit formed from years of experience on their 'nights out.' They relished each others' little fashion parades and found them to be highly arousing, to the point where occasionally they would never make it to the front door and find themselves locked in their sexual acrobatics until the wee, small hours, their faces smudged in lipstick, clothes awry, sweating and grinning like idiots. It was a minor miracle that they had never been caught in the act, but fortune smiled on their bravado and the charmed relationship flourished unnoticed.

The girls were economic with their make-up, most of the time they only had each other to impress and that took little effort. Jennifer had little patience for it, conventionally pretty anyway, so long as her hair looked nice and her skin unblemished, she was quite happy. Marilyn had a slight artistic flair and would spend a little time with eyeliner and eye shadow, blusher and gloss to enhance her bone structure and beautiful eyes.

Jennifer was inevitably ready a full five minutes before Mar' and sashayed over to the mirror, twirling and flicking the hem of her dress, happy to see that she looked fresh and sexy, she called out, knowing full well she would have time to kill.

"Is my favorite tartlet ready yet?" 

"Five seconds, honey muff!"

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Ice-water, please, with some splashes of Jif!"

"Sounds good, think I'll join you...hurry up, you lazy fanny, it's half nine!"

Drinks poured, she perched her chin in the crook of her palms to gaze out of the window. Resting her elbows on the worktop, she watched with delight as a squirrel kitten chased a magpie on the lawn. The youngster was no bigger than a hamster with a springy bush of a tail, much longer than its body. It bounced after the startled magpie in demented bounds. The tormented bird squawked in alarm and took to the sky. She found herself laughing out loud as the little monster disappeared into the skirts of the silver birch. 

A sudden whiff of perfume drifted across her senses. She would recognize it anywhere, Marc Jacob's fruitfest 'uber-cool' kissed her nose as the bronze lips of her girlfriend kissed the nape of her neck. She hadn't heard Marilyn's footfall and the kiss sent a shiver of excitement tingling down her spine.

"What are you giggling at?"asked Mar; breathily.

Jen' replied, "I was watching a little furry beastie playing"

"You been looking down your knickers again?" teased Mar.

Giggling, Jen answered, "That's your job, missus"

"Is that an invitation?" winked Mar'.

"You look wonderful"

"So do you"

"Give me a twirl" 

Marilyn opened the patio door to pirhouette in circular dance around the lawn, the hem of her dress flicking seductively around her thighs. Jennifer clapped her approval and mimicked the spin, swirling towards the lemon dervish in little orbits until they collided. She grasped Mar' from behind and cupped her breasts in her hands

"Are you ready for some fun, gorgeous?" Jen' questioned with a smirk

Mar' glanced over her shoulder, "Hot as a pie and getting damper by the second."

The sensation of stiffening nipples and Jennifer's perfume were making her light-headed and she allowed herself a moment's indulgence before breaking free. 

"Is that the Lolita Lempicka, Jen', it is so intoxicating?" 

Mmm she said, "lovely, ain't it?"

Jen replied, "It's like spicy flowers"

"Is it making your head spin?" 

"I could fuck a rhino." Jen' replied.

Jennifer sidled around her and stood nose to nose. She slid her tongue wetly into Marilyn's mouth and several snake-like flickers later, whispered in her ear, "That is what I intend to do to that lovely slit of yours."

With a wink Mar' replied, "Just call me syrup sponge"

The girls linked arms and headed for the church. The squirrel seen on the lawn earlier sat in the crook of a branch, idly gnawing at an acorn it had hidden in the bark. An apparent smile set into its' tiny jaws as it watched them disappear. The great joy of being a squirrel is the opportunity to see everything from a vantage point. It had looked down the front of two women's dresses already this morning and it wasn't even ten o'clock.

To be continued.