3 comments/  41122 views/  8 favorites

The Organist Entertains Ch. 01

By: SlipLuvver



Peter Noakes had been the organist and choirmaster at his local parish church, St Leonards, for nearly thirty years, and had been a member in its ranks since he was eight years old. His wife had also been a choir member until she had passed away three years before from cancer. Now aged fifty, he was a tall, bespectacled man with a mane of shiny dark hair whose time was spent between his day job as a landscape gardener and his duties at the church. There had been nobody else in his life since the death of his wife, apart from his two grown up children Alice and Joseph who were both at university.

There were sixteen other members in the choir aged between eight and seventy four, supplemented during the university holidays and at certain weekends by his own children. Seven of these were primary school children; five girls and two boys recruited from the local school.

By contrast, Reverend Maxine Power had been the vicar at St Leonards for just four months. This was her first posting as a vicar but she had already been successful in recruiting the younger children into the choir and reinstating a Sunday School for those under eight years old. There had been a definite rise in numbers in the congregation since she had replaced the previous incumbent who had retired. 

She was unmarried, aged in her early thirties, a slim but plain looking brunette who in public always wore her shoulder length hair tied back with a gold hair clip. When she wasn't wearing her black cassock she would usually be dressed in a black shirt with the traditional white collar and a plain black knee-length pencil skirt and black hosiery, together with an unflattering pair of flat black slip on shoes. 

It was a sunny Saturday in early July. St Leonards had hosted three weddings at hourly intervals starting at twelve o'clock. It was now ten to three and the last service had ended, the register had been signed and the happy couple and their guests had processed into the churchyard for the photographs. The seven younger choir members plus two teenage girl altos had attended every wedding and were now in the empty church waiting to be paid. Peter went up to the vestry to collect the wages where Maxine was sorting out the various bits of legal paperwork from the register. She handed him an envelope.

"There's ninety pounds in there," she said to him. "I know we normally only pay them three pounds per wedding, but I didn't have time to get any change from the bank this week so they can have a bit extra. There's plenty in the kitty." 

"Yes," said Peter. "We must have over ninety pounds spare in the choir funds from before the younger ones started."

One of Maxine's good qualities was her generosity and instead of banking any excess wedding money for the church, she allowed the choirmaster and bell ringers to have a bonus if there was any spare left over from previous weddings. Peter opened the envelope. There were nine ten pound notes inside. The children gathered round him in the vestry doorway eager to collect their pay.

"Okay", he said, "You've all got a bit extra this week for good behaviour, so no pushing Lucy, and form an orderly line, all of you! Jodie, here's yours...Rhiannon... Sophie... Louise... Ryan... Lucy... Josh... Annabelle... and Abigail."

Each child collected their money as he called out their names culminating in the two older girls who had waited patiently at the back. He tore up the empty envelope and went back into the vestry to throw it away. The children had now left and the only people left inside was himself, Maxine and Fred the verger who was tidying away the leftover service sheets and hymn books.

"Phew," said Peter mopping his brow. "I'm glad that's over. I'm sweltering." He had already taken off his cassock and surplice and just had on a short sleeved shirt and a pair of light blue cotton trousers but the sweat was pouring off him.

"Tell me about it," said Maxine. "What say we go for a drink somewhere and cool off?"

"I'm tempted," said Peter. "I'm not doing anything this afternoon so why not. Thank you, Maxine."

"Call me Max," she said. "All my friends do. Give me a minute to get this clobber off."

Rev. Max Power! Peter couldn't help but smile to himself at her title and name. She had removed her surplice as soon as she had entered the vestry but still wore the black cassock and the white collar around her neck. She started to unbutton the cassock and Peter expected the usual drab black shirt to be revealed. Instead he was pleasantly surprised to find she had a short-sleeved summer dress on underneath, pale yellow in colour. She hung the cassock on a hanger and placed it in a cupboard in the corner of the room then unfastened the black Rabat with the white collar attached to it and placed it on a shelf in the cupboard. Her dress was quite low cut and there was more than a hint of cleavage on display. Peter felt his cock jerk upright at the sight, more so when her dress slid back exposing a great deal of thigh as she bent down and pulled her handbag and a pair of white wedge heeled sling-back sandals out of the cupboard. She wore no hosiery and kicked off the black shoes, replacing them with the sandals, unclipped the gold hair clip and put it in her handbag, gave her hair a quick brush and pulled a pair of large red framed sunglasses from within her bag and placed them on top of her head.

"Right, let's go then," she said. "Fred will lock up. See you tomorrow Fred." She waved at him as they walked out and pulled her glasses down. The wedding party was still outside and they dodged the guests, trying not to get in the way of those taking photographs. Who would have guessed that the lady in the yellow dress and the red sunglasses was the same person who had officiated at the wedding service less than half an hour earlier?

They walked through the side gate from the churchyard into the rectory garden where Maxine's car stood in front of the garage.

"Hop in," she said. "We'll go to the Rose & Crown at Stelling. There shouldn't be anyone there who knows us."

Maxine had an unusual car for a vicar. While most of her peers drove smart little hatchbacks or those with families had large people carriers, hers was a satin red cabriolet. She had left it parked with the roof closed, but soon they were speeding along the country lanes with it down. Peter couldn't help but keep looking at his weekend boss as he referred to her to his friends. Her hair was billowing in the breeze, sunglasses in place, her dress sitting seductively midway between her thigh and her knee exposing her legs. A small gold cross on a gold chain sat around her neck, a gold signet ring on the ring finger on her right hand and a small gold watch with a black strap on her left wrist.

Stelling was only about ten miles from the parish and it didn't take above twenty minutes to get there. There were very few people in the pub and nobody in the beer garden so they went and sat at a shady table with their drinks. Thankfully Peter had remembered his own sunglasses and he clipped them onto the front of his normal glasses. They chatted away about many things including his late wife and family, his work as a gardener and her previous position as a deacon in a parish in Liverpool. She sat opposite him, not with her feet directly under the table, but with them to the side. Every so often, she would cross her legs and he would innocently try and see if he could spot a glimpse of her undies, then she would uncross them again and stretch them out in his direction. Was she flirting with him? His cock seemed to think so as each time it jerked into life with anticipation, before receding again when nothing was seen.

An hour or so later and with a couple of non-alcoholic lagers each inside them, Maxine made the suggestion of heading back as she had to finish off the sermon for the next morning's service. They got back into the car, but instead of heading home along the direct route by which they had come, she headed down the narrow lanes towards the coast. After about five minutes, they passed a few farm cottages and came to a gateway with a dirt track leading through it. She pulled in off the road and drove round to the right so the car was concealed from passing traffic before reversing up to the hedge. Roughly a hundred yards ahead beyond the fenced off cliff edge lay the English Channel with the French coastline clearly visible across the other side.

"I love it here," said Maxine, switching off the engine and relaxing back into her seat. "I often come up here for inspiration for my sermons. The sea is like life you know. Sometimes it is calm and you can see what is going to happen, sometimes it is rough and unpredictable."

"How true," said Peter. He too had been through some rough, unpredictable times in the past few years.

They said nothing for a while, listening to the sound of the waves breaking on the beach below them and watching the tankers and container ships passing up and down. It was quite breezy and the wind was blowing Maxine's hair across her face so that she had to keep pushing it aside. After a while, she turned to face Peter.

"You know, you're a very kind, patient, gentle man," she said to him. "I've been watching you with the younger ones. You have a way of putting them at ease, yet you're firm when you have to be without being too demanding or upsetting them."

Peter blushed at her compliments.

"They're not too bad," he said, "You wouldn't think so now, but Annabelle could be disobedient when she was younger. There was another girl called Kylie who was a bit of a tearaway and she used to lead her on a bit, you know answering back and the like, but she got fed up with church life and left after a few months, then Abigail joined and Annabelle settled down and the cheekiness stopped. Young Lucy can be a bit of a handful occasionally, but nothing like Kylie. If you nip it in the bud, they usually toe the line."

Maxine smiled at him. She leaned across and kissed him gently on the lips. As she did so, she twisted her body in the seat towards him and gave him an inadvertent flash of her panties. Peter's cock leapt and started stiffening under his trousers. Maxine straightened up again in her seat, looking out towards the sea, but keeping a discreet eye on it from behind her glasses. Peter blushed again.

"What was that for?" he asked, his cock semi erect.

Maxine said nothing but turned to face him again, giving him an even bigger glimpse. She leaned across and started hungrily kissing his lips and trying to prise her tongue in his mouth, pulling him towards her. This time Peter reciprocated and soon their tongues were at the back of each other's throats. His cock was now straining under his trousers and she was unzipping him with one hand while trying to hold him steady with the other. She managed to manipulate it through the opening in his boxers and it sprang out of its prison erect and ready for action. Her tongue went from his mouth and started licking the glans on the end, while she moved her hands along its shaft. Gradually her mouth encompassed his organ until it was completely encased. 

Peter sat back in the passenger seat enjoying every second. The bulbous tip of his penis was now deep inside her mouth and she was sucking it hard. Every now and again she would withdraw it and lick the tip removing any spots of precum that that formed before resuming the deep sucking once more. Her head was across his lap and Peter had his left hand on his knee while his right was draped over her back. Tentatively he started pulling down the zip on the back of her dress. He paused as her white bra came into view and then continued until it was fully down. He couldn't free her arms from its sleeves due to the cramped position she was sitting in but he did manage to undo her bra and massage her tits from underneath doing everything by touch as he couldn't actually see them. Her nipples were already erect and the feelings made her suck even harder until she felt Peter's cock twitch and spew forth its seed into her mouth. She relaxed her grip and licked the residues from his slowly receding member.

When she was happy that there was nothing left she sat upright. As she did so her dress sleeves and bra straps slid down her arms partly exposing her small but pert tits with their perfectly round pink areolas. Peter pulled her dress top down and her bra off so they were completely uncovered and started to suck each one in turn, while his hand went down between her legs. He pulled her dress hem up exposing a short, white lacy underskirt and her pure white panties and touched them. As expected, her panties were pretty damp. He was about to do some exploring of his own when her mobile rang. She rummaged in her handbag for it and put it to her ear.

"Hello, Maxine Power speaking...oh hello Agnes, how are you?" She spoke in her serious 'vicar' tone. There was a pause and Peter could hear snatches of the person speaking on the other end. He gathered it was bad news from Maxine's reaction.

"Oh Agnes, I'm so sorry to hear that...I know it was expected, but it's still a shock isn't it? Well, look, give me about half an hour and I'll come round and see you...Okay, you take care my love...Bye for now." She hung up and turned to Peter.

"That was Agnes Carter. Her brother Sid passed away this afternoon. I'm going to go and visit her, but I'll have to nip home and change first, I can't really go in this dress."

She pulled her bra back on and fastened it, checking to see that her breasts were fully encased, and then pulled her dress on fully and asked Peter to zip it back up. She stepped out of the car briefly and smoothed it down, after all it wouldn't do to arrive back home with her underskirt and knickers on show. Peter tucked his cock away and zipped his trousers up. He now had a damp patch on his trouser front which turned the material round it a dark blue and hoped that nobody would notice it when he got back home.

The journey back was more subdued and they talked about Sid and his life in the parish. While Maxine had only known him for a few months, Peter had a whole array of anecdotes to relate, but this was not the time for that. Maxine dropped him off outside his house and luckily there was nobody around to witness his arrival. Just before she got there, she closed the car roof. 

"I trust you enjoyed our little outing. I'm sorry it had to end this way but why don't you come round to the vicarage tomorrow?" she said patting his knee. "We could have some lunch and maybe carry on where we left off!" 

"You bet!" said Peter with a smile as he got out. He watched as she drove off and around the corner before heading inside for a quick shower and a change of clothes.

* * * * *

The next morning, Peter was at the church just after ten o'clock ready to start playing the organ before the start of the service at ten thirty. Maxine was already there dressed in her black cassock and with her brown hair tied back with its familiar gold hair clip. She was at the pulpit sorting out her sermon notes as he walked by and she smiled at him. A few people were already milling about, including Fred the verger; David and Mary Stanlake, the church wardens; Helen Faraday, the newly appointed Sunday School teacher and Deborah Radcliffe, the only other female member of the choir, whose task it was to make sure that the younger ones were fully dressed in their choir robes ready for the service to begin. She also normally attended the weddings but had only returned from holiday the previous day. Maxine walked over to Peter who was putting the hymn numbers onto the hymn board.

"I trust you are still on for lunch later," she said in a low voice. "I have a special starter to whet your appetite!"

"Sure am!" said Peter. He changed the subject as Abigail walked by to collect the processional cross which was in its fixture at the top of the choir stalls. "How's Agnes?"

"Bearing up," said Maxine. "I'm going round again in the morning to arrange the funeral. Stanlake's are doing it so I need to liaise with David before we leave." David Stanlake, as well as being the church warden, was also the local undertaker in the area. Maxine disappeared into the vestry and reappeared a few minutes later wearing her surplice and stole ready to greet her parishioners. 

The service passed off without incident and was finished by half past eleven. The church was about three quarters full and after it had finished, Maxine stood at the door shaking the hands of the congregation as they left. About half of those present went home while the rest went over to the nearby Parish Hall for tea and coffee. Maxine went back to the vestry and took off her surplice and stole. David was there counting the takings from the collection and she had a chat with him about Sid's forthcoming funeral, before walking across to the hall with him for a cup of coffee. Peter had finished playing and already had gone across himself. He was talking with Deborah when Maxine walked in, still wearing her black cassock. Also visible, he noticed, was a smart pair of black low-heel court shoes instead of the normal black flat ones.

Maxine got herself a cup of coffee from the serving hatch and spent the next twenty minutes or so chatting with some of the people who were still there. By twelve fifteen, there were only a handful of people left. Peter was talking to Abigail and her mother who were washing up the cups and saucers in the kitchen when Maxine came up. She chatted briefly before suggesting to Peter that he 'popped over' to the vicarage as there were some musical arrangements she needed to discuss with him. They bid farewell to those left and walked casually back across the road to the vicarage.

Once inside, she put the keys on a table in the lounge by her handbag, and then went to the answerphone to check for any messages, before doing the same on her mobile. As there were none, she went and sat next to Peter on the sofa. She put her arms around him and kissed him on the lips. He responded likewise, gently at first, then with more fervour until their tongues were thrashing about inside their mouths.

"How come," said Peter, in between kisses, "That you...are still...wearing your cassock? You normally...leave...that in church."

Maxine started to pull his suit jacket off then unfastened his tie and pulled it seductively from around his neck.

"I told you in church," she said, "I have a special starter for you." 

She started unfastening the buttons down the front of her cassock. As it opened up, Peter was a little shocked and surprised to find that instead of the normal black shirt and skirt, there was just a short, black lace-hemmed slip. It sat a good four or five inches above her knee and its equally lacy bust and thin straps hugged her figure sexily. As she shrugged the cassock off, it also became clear that she was wearing sheer hold-up black stockings as Peter had tantalising glimpses as she stood up briefly and laid the cassock over the back of a nearby dining chair. She unfastened the Rabat with its white collar, removed it and laid it on top of the cassock before unfastening her hair and shaking it down.

"Is that all you've been wearing under your cassock during the service?" said Peter amazed. "Don't you feel it's unholy?"

"Not really," said Maxine. "I've done it before when it's been very hot. Besides, I know a few male priests who do it with very little underneath. The vicar at my last church did on occasions, especially at weddings. Mind you, he nearly gave the game away once. The bride had a sleeveless dress on and he got a boner from looking down at her from the altar rail. Personally, I prefer something feminine underneath. These clergy vestments can be a bit rough you know! Of course, I wouldn't do it at a funeral, or at a children's service."


The Organist Entertains Ch. 02



Peter had been the organist at St Leonards Church for over thirty years. A widower with two grown up children, he had not had any female company since his wife had passed away from cancer three years before. A few months previously the parish had received a new vicar, Reverend Maxine Power. She was in her early thirties, a brunette with shoulder length hair normally tied back in public with a gold hair clip. She was otherwise fairly plain to look at and was on her first posting as a vicar. She had taken quite a shine to Peter, suggesting that they go for a drink after a series of weddings one summer Saturday afternoon which led to them having oral sex in her car on a remote cliff top. This had been followed by proper sex after the morning service the following day when they had been caught out by Trish Thorndike, a member of the congregation, who had called round at the vicarage for the keys to the parish hall after her daughter had left her mobile phone there earlier that day

Theresa Ruth Thorndike, or Trish to her friends, was in her early forties, around 5'3" tall, with collar length blond curly hair and an ample 38DD chest. She was a divorcee and lived with her daughter Abigail in a smart seventies built house on the outskirts of town. She had been unlucky in her married life; her husband had walked out on her when Abigail was three years old. That had been nearly thirteen years before as Abigail would be celebrating her sixteenth birthday the following month. Trish was always well dressed, especially when she went to church on Sunday, and it was very rare to see her without a hint of lipstick or makeup.

The day after Trish had caught Peter naked at the vicarage, it had been Maxine's intention to call on her with Peter and apologise for any embarrassment they might have caused to her. They had been to visit a parishioner whose brother had passed away on the previous Saturday but had spent quite a while talking and discussing arrangements for the forthcoming funeral. Consequently when they arrived at Trish's house she had gone out so Maxine had dropped him off at his house as she had a prearranged meeting with the bishop that afternoon.

Peter had been due to pick up his two children from the station that afternoon but when he got home from his tryst with the vicar, he'd had an answerphone message from his daughter explaining that they wouldn't now be arriving until the next day as they were meeting a friend in London, so he was at a loss for something to do. While he was eating his lunch, he decided he would go and pay Trish a visit and apologise personally. He knew she would be on her own that day as he had overheard Abigail telling her friend Annabelle that she would be visiting her dad's that day and would be staying overnight.

When he had finished and washed up the few items of cutlery and crockery, he set off for Trish's house. She lived about a fifteen minute walk away so he had decided to leave his car at home as he fancied some exercise.

Trish meanwhile had come back from her outing and had also had her lunch. Her mind was still so full of the previous day's exploits that she felt she just had to share it with someone. She had tried ringing her close friend Helen Faraday, who was the Sunday school teacher at church, earlier that morning but could not get an answer. This was contrary to what Peter and Maxine actually expected her to do as she wasn't normally a gossip. So after lunch she tried again, and this time her friend answered.

"Hi Helen, you'll never guess what happened after church yesterday..." she said and began to regale her friend with the events of the previous day. Helen sat in her lounge listening in wide eyed amazement.

"What, and he was stark naked?" she said. "Blimey, I wouldn't have thought he would do something like that."

"Well it just goes to show you, doesn't it?" said Trish, revelling in her news. "And she had nothing on under her slip you know. I could see all her, um, pubes and that when she bent down to pick up the keys." This last statement was actually not true as she hadn't seen anything. Maxine had taken great care to ensure that she didn't when she bent down.

"Was he, um, you know, um, well endowed," said Helen, stifling a girlish giggle.

"Very!" said Trish. "He didn't know where to put his hands. I tell you this Helen; I wish my ex had had a penis like that. I wouldn't have minded some of Peter's though, I can tell you!" 

"Trish, you tart! exclaimed Helen. "Look, I've got to pop out to the dentist shortly, but I'll ring you again in about an hour if you like and you can tell me the rest."

It was at that moment that Peter arrived at Trish's house and rang the doorbell.

"Yes, that's fine," said Trish. "I'm going to have to go now anyway. There's a man at the door. It's probably just someone trying to sell me double glazing or solar panels or something like that. I'll call you in a bit. Bye for now." 

She put the phone down and opened the front door. Her jaw dropped and her cheeks turned scarlet when she saw Peter.

"Oh, hello," she said regaining her composure.

"Hi," said Peter. "Look, it's about yesterday. I hope Maxine and I didn't embarrass you too much."

"No," said Trish still blushing at the thought of it. "What made you think that? Look, don't stand out here on the doorstep, the neighbours will see you. Won't you come in for a moment?"

Peter stepped into the hallway and she shut the door behind him.

"Come through to the kitchen," she said. "I was just going to make a cup of coffee. Would you like one? It's only instant I'm afraid. I don't go in for all that posh stuff; you know, lattes, espressos etc."

"Instant is fine," said Peter.

He followed her down the hallway into the kitchen and stood in the doorway watching her as she set about preparing two mugs of coffee. She put the kettle on to boil the water. "Take a seat," she said, nodding towards a table with two chairs either side. Peter sat at the one nearest to the door. "So what made you think I was embarrassed, then?" she said.

"Well it must have been a bit of a surprise coming face to face with Maxine in her underwear and me with absolutely nothing on," he said. "To be honest, I didn't hear the doorbell otherwise I would have stayed upstairs out of sight. I truly am sorry if you felt embarrassed or offended in any way."

"Well it was a bit of a surprise I must admit," said Trish. "You don't expect to visit your vicar and find her cavorting about with the organist. It's a good job I didn't have Abigail with me though."

"Yes, it was," said Peter, then he suddenly looked worried. "You haven't said anything to her, have you, I mean I don't want the rest of the choir finding out, especially the younger ones."

"Good heavens, no, of course not," said Trish. "What do you take me for? If I told her, she'd be texting all her friends and broadcasting it to all her followers on Facebook and it would be halfway across the country in ten minutes!"

"That's a relief," he said. "Then it's our little secret. Yours, mine and Maxine's. No-one else must ever know."

"It shall be," said Trish crossing her fingers behind her back. She dare not let on that she had already told Helen, who would be phoning again for all the gory details within the hour.

"Do you mind if I ask you another question?" said Peter. "You might find it a bit sensitive, but did the sight of me being naked yesterday turn you on at all?"

"I'd rather not say," she said turning beetroot red again.

Peter took that for a 'yes' but decided not to pursue the matter further. He watched as she busied herself making the coffee as the kettle had now boiled, and she handed him a mug, then started to fold some washing that had just come out of the washing machine. Every so often she would glance furtively across at him. Peter noticed it a few times but said nothing about it.

"We called round this morning, Maxine and I," he said taking a sip of coffee. "We both wanted to apologise to you personally, but we'd been to see Agnes first and she kept us talking about Sid and showing us pictures and that so when we got here there was no reply. We noticed your car was here though so we guessed you wouldn't be far away."

"Oh, I caught the bus into town," said Trish. "I always do unless Abigail's with me. It's cheaper than parking in town when I'm on my own and I can come back at leisure. It's her sixteenth birthday next month. She wants a new watch. There's something wrong with her current one which keeps stopping and it's going to cost a lot to put right so I've brought her a new one." 

Peter watched her, noting her frequent glances in his direction, as she finished tidying away the washing, piling it all in a basket ready to be ironed. She stood leaning against the worktop sipping her coffee, the sun lighting up her golden curls and turning her pale blue blouse semi-transparent. He stood up and joined her. He put his cup on the table and gently prised hers out of her hand and put it next to his. He put his arms round her waist and pulled her gently towards him before planting a kiss on her lips. She kissed him back, and then pulled away. No words were spoken as he pulled her closer still until their chests pressed against each other. He started kissing her again. She put her hands on his shoulders as his hands started roaming across the small of her back. He could feel her lovely tits against his chest as they kissed until eventually she broke free.

"That was lovely," she said, running her hand through her curls. "But I guess you have things to do?"

"Only to kiss the loveliest lady that I can think of at this moment in time," said Peter with a wink.

He started kissing her again ignoring her half-hearted gestures to stop. Realising she wasn't going to immediately win, she put her hands back on his shoulders again. Again he pulled her close to him so that her tits were squashed against his chest. He slowly moved his right hand round to her left breast and started sliding it gently up the side and then across the front of it. Up and down he moved before gently giving it a squeeze. Each time he brushed past her nipple she would give a little gasp.

Eventually he let go and Trish stood trying to catch her breath. Before she could say anything however, he pulled her towards him once more and started pushing his tongue down her throat. She didn't seem too fazed by this even though there was a slight difference in height and she had to stretch up to do it. Peter's right hand was once more playing with her breast. Her hands were more round the back of his neck than his head as her tongue darted in and out of his mouth. His other hand now moved up to her free breast and started squeezing and massaging in unison with its twin. After a few minutes, he released his grip again.

"You'll have to leave soon," she said when she had got her breath back. "I'm expecting Abigail home soon and I don't want her to find us together, it will be an awful shock for her."

"You know as well as I do that Abigail is away at her dad's until tomorrow," said Peter. "I heard her telling Annabelle that yesterday."

"Well, okay, I'm actually expecting a friend round," she said.

Peter laughed off what he thought was a feeble attempt to get him to leave.

"The more, the merrier!" he said.

He was up close and personal again and started fondling her tits once more before bringing his right hand up and starting to unfasten the buttons down the front of her blouse, while continuing to massage her right breast with his left. Her blouse slowly opened up revealing the semi-transparent white bra in all its glory. The nipples could clearly be seen through it, already half standing to attention. She was now giggling, trying to fend off the wandering hand and protesting loudly, often all three at once.

Her bottom was now pressed up against the worktop and with Peter's imposing frame in front of her she had very little space to manoeuvre in. She felt, rather than saw, his hands go up over her shoulders following the contours of her bra straps to the fiddly hooks and eyes beyond. The protests continued, and she still had the giggles.

"No, Peter, you mustn't do that. That's naughty. You mustn't...no, you really mustn't undo...oh god, that's divine...oh...oh!

Peter had succeeded in unfastening her bra and pushed it up to expose her beautiful breasts. Now they were like putty in his massive hands as he lifted them and squeezed them, poked them and prodded them with the bra material resting on the top of his hands as he did so. His cock was now like a tent pole under his trousers but there was no way he was going to let Trish see that just yet. 

Trish had her eyes closed moaning gently as he was doing this and only opened them when she could no longer feel her tits being manipulated. Her bra had fallen back across the face of them with the straps still on her shoulders and the fastening panels hanging in the small of her back. She felt Peter's hands sliding over her waistline and guessed what was coming next.

"No, Peter, you're not to do that, I've told you. I've enjoyed it so far but I'm expecting company soon and you're not to...oh Peter!" she exclaimed looking down to her feet.

He had hooked his thumbs into the side of her skirt. It was a pleated one with an elasticated waistband, black and with a multitude of white polka dots and its hem rested just over her knee, except that one swift flick of the thumbs had sent it lifelessly to the floor where it splayed out round her ankles, hence her exclamation.

"Now I think that's quite far enough for one day," said Trish, but again Peter was tantalising her once more. His fingers now rested on the waistband of her black nylon half-slip, the thumbs once more in position. He slid it up and down a few inches. 

"No, Peter, leave my underskirt alone please, and don't do that, you'll stretch the elastic... Peter, stop it... No, no...You mustn't." Her protests as usual went unheard and he slid it up and down a few more times. Each time he did it she would giggle and chastise him until he finally relented and withdrew his fingers.

"You mustn't do that to my underskirt," she said, waving her finger at him like a mother scolding her child. "You will spoil it you know... Now where's my skirt?"

She looked down to the floor as Peter took a step back and made a quick downward tug on each side of the material just below her waist and it dropped silently on top of the skirt.

"Peter!" she giggled. "You won't take no for an answer, will you?" He shook his head and helped her step out of the skirt and slip and remove her blouse and the now redundant bra. "So I guess that only leaves one more thing then?" She nodded to her white briefs, which already had a damp patch in the crotch. Peter's fingers went to the waistband.

"Oh well, in for a penny..." she said as they were sent southbound and she kicked them off. 

Peter kissed her gently on the lips again, her tits rubbing against the front of his shirt. The bright sunlight accentuated the wisp of blond curls of her pussy, and he ran the fingers of his right hand amongst them. There was a definite dampness there and he pushed her back towards the kitchen table, but Trish stopped him.

"No, we'll go upstairs into the spare room," she said. "Abigail and I have our meals on there and it's not right that we do intimate things on it, not only that but it's hard and I might get a splinter in my bum!"

The kitchen table was a relic from a bygone age. It had belonged to Trish's grandmother and many years of people rubbing against the edge of it had caused it to wear and cause the occasional splinter.

"I could always try and remove it for you," said Peter cheekily, "Or you could get Abigail to do it do you!"

"I told you I don't want her knowing," said Trish. "Now come on."

Suddenly she seemed eager to get started and took him by the hand and led him upstairs into the little bedroom at the front over the garage. A single bed was pushed up against the wall with a plain white sheet covering the mattress and a single pillow without a pillowcase at the head. Blue curtains hung at the windows. Peter pushed her gently down onto the bed and stood before her. She reached forward and unfastened his trousers, pulling them down to his ankles, followed by his boxer shorts. His cock stood out proud in front of him and Trish gasped at the size of it fully erect. Last time she had seen it, it was only half that size.

"Impressed?" said Peter smugly.

"Not half," said Trish gazing at it with awe and wonder. 

She held its shaft firmly and put her tongue to its tip. She started licking it, leaning forward to get more of it into her mouth. Peter had his hands round the back of her head, urging her onto it until she had the shaft fully inside. She sucked it greedily. Every now and again the glans would catch the back of her throat and she would gag slightly, but she was a game girl and kept going back for more. The last time she had had a man was just after her husband had walked out on her. It was more a drunken fumble at a friend's birthday party and she had instantly regretted it in the cold, grey light of the following day. Thirteen years of pent up passion and frustration was now coming to the surface from deep within as she sucked for all she was worth until with a stifled 'uummm' she took a mouthful of Peter's semen straight down the back of her throat. The suddenness of it made her retch and start coughing quite violently. Peter withdrew his cock which was still spurting forth and patted her on the back.

It took her a few minutes to regain her composure. She had swallowed a lot of his seed but the coughing action and the premature removal from her mouth caused the remainder to trickle forth over her breasts and lower body.

"Are you okay," said Peter.

"Yes, I am now," she said. "You know, it's that long since I've had a cock in my mouth that I forgot just how sudden the end result can be!"

Peter kicked off his shoes and disentangled his trousers and boxers from around his ankles. Trish positioned herself on the bed with her head on the pillow as Peter climbed onto it beside her. She parted her legs in expectation and her cunt lips were already slightly open and glistening from her secretions. He positioned himself on top of her and guided his erect cock through her wispy curls towards its goal. It went in quite easily and his buttocks began tensing and relaxing as he started pleasuring her. Peter's was the first cock to penetrate her in thirteen years and she was savouring every moment of it jerking her body in time with his, looking down her body at her boobs which were vibrating up and down with each thrust as he held her hips firmly. She lifted her gaze upwards a little and he was deep in concentration.

Gradually she could feel her body tensing. She started moaning gently as the thrusting continued. The moans gradually increasing in crescendo as the juices within built up.

"Oh, I've waited so long for this," she gasped. "Oh, any minute now I'm going to explode... Oh, bloody hell, here we go... oh, oh...OH...ARGH!" she screamed as the first organism in well over a decade overtook her. Peter exhaled too as his stream of hot spunk filled up her cunt and flowed back out onto the sheet. He withdrew and knelt astride her waiting for her to get her breath back. She lay back on the pillow, eyes closed, breathing deeply. It was nearly five minutes before her breathing had calmed enough for her to speak.

"Oh God, you don't know how long I've waited for that," she said.

"Was it worth it?" said Peter, smiling down at her.

"Worth it?" she said. "I'd do it all again if I had the energy."

"No regrets then?" said Peter, climbing off the bed.

"Definitely not!" she replied sitting up. "Thank you. Perhaps we can do it again some time."




The Organist Entertains Ch. 02



"We'll see," he said, "But I've got Joe and Alice coming tomorrow for the summer holidays; they'll probably be around until the middle of September. You will have Abigail here until school starts again so we probably won't have that much time to ourselves."

"No, I suppose not," said Trish. 

Meanwhile Helen was walking up the street towards Trish's house. She had been to the dentist and decided on a whim to go round and visit her rather than hear the gossip over the phone. She could easily pass as your 'typical' primary school teacher type as she was dressed in a yellow floral printed skirt, cream top and cream jacket. She had strawberry blonde shoulder length hair with a fringe and wore gold rimmed spectacles. At thirty-two years of age, she was happily married to her husband and mother to their two young sons. The only time she had ever worked was when she left school when she worked as an office junior in a solicitor's office for six months where she met her husband. She never used the front door to Trish's house, preferring instead to squeeze past her car which was always on the drive and use the kitchen door on the side instead. She tapped on the door which was half open.

"Trish, are you there," she called.

There was no answer so she pushed the door open a bit more. She could see Trish's skirt, underskirt and knickers on the kitchen floor where they had been abandoned, together with her blouse and bra which were on the kitchen worktop.

"Strange place to leave dirty washing," she thought to herself. "Why not put them in the washing basket?"

She went into the kitchen, her heels clattering on the kitchen tiles. As she passed the kitchen table, her shoulder bag caught against one of the half empty mugs of coffee which Peter had left there earlier. It fell to the ground, fortunately not breaking, but some of the now cold liquid caught the side of her skirt.

"Damn and blast!" she muttered to herself.

Upstairs, Peter heard the noise.

"There's someone in the kitchen downstairs," he whispered. "Did you leave the side door open?"

"Yes," said Trish. "I hope it's not burglars."

"I'd better go and investigate," said Peter. He had nothing to defend himself with, but crept down the stairs into the hall still totally naked.

Helen had gone in the lounge in search of her friend and Peter could see her shadowy figure through the gap in the door. She turned round to come back out again and screamed when she saw him in the doorway.

"Oh God, Peter. You gave me such a shock!" she said shaking like a leaf. "Where's Trish?" 

"I'm here," said Trish, standing behind him. She had had the presence of mind to grab the stained sheet from the bed and was trying to contain her dignity by wrapping it round her as best she could. "Is that you Helen? I thought you were at the dentist."

"I was," said Helen. "But he had a cancellation so I got in a bit earlier. It was nothing major, only a check-up and a scale and polish."

Poor Peter. Once again he had been caught out and was standing with his arms by his sides with everything on display. Like Trish the day before, Helen found it difficult to avert her gaze.

"Look, I'd better go back upstairs and get dressed," he said. "Sorry about this." He turned and Trish stood aside to let him pass. The two ladies watched as he disappeared down the hallway and upstairs. Helen started giggling.

"Oh, Trish, You haven't been...he hasn't has he...he has hasn't he!" She was quite good at putting two and two together. Trish gave her a friendly thump on the shoulder.

"Sssh," she whispered, "He'll hear you."

"I see what you mean about him being...um...you know...big," giggled Helen.

Peter had quickly dressed and was now coming back down the stairs. The two ladies ceased their banter.

"Look, I'd better be off," he said to Trish. "I'll see myself out. I've got some shopping to do ready for Joe and Alice coming tomorrow. I'll probably see you at church on Sunday, and I guess I'll see Abigail at choir practice on Friday night. "

"You will," said Trish. "You take care now."

He closed the door behind him leaving Helen and Trish alone.

"Well, lady, you've certainly got some explaining to do," said Helen when he had gone.

"All in good time," said Trish. "I need to get dressed first." She stooped to pick up her lower clothes from the floor and her upper clothes from the worktop. The sheet slipped a little as she did so and Helen could see that she had nothing on under it. "Can you make us both a coffee," she added, trying not to bring any more attention to herself.

She brushed past Helen into the hallway and up the stairs. Trish knew she would want to know everything that had happened, not only on Sunday, but also that afternoon. Still, she consoled herself; at least Helen wasn't a gossip, was she!



The Organist Entertains Ch. 03



Peter Noakes was the organist and choirmaster at St Leonards' church and had been so for over thirty years. He had been a widower for the past three years and had two grown up children. He had lived mainly on his own for the last year since his youngest child, his daughter Alice, had joined her brother at university.

The parish had received a new vicar four months previously, Reverend Maxine Power, a slim, plain looking brunette in her early thirties. This was her first parish as a vicar and already she had made an impression on people in more ways than one. The congregation had increased steadily at the morning services and she had successfully recruited seven members of the local primary school into the choir and reinstated the Sunday School for younger members.

She had also made quite an impression on Peter, so much so that they had had amorous liaisons on two consecutive days. These had been once in her car after a series of weddings on the Saturday and again the following day after the morning service at the vicarage. Unfortunately they had been caught out at the Sunday session when Trish Thorndike, a divorcee and the mother of one of the choir girls, had called to collect the keys to the parish hall after her daughter had left her mobile phone in there.

Finding the vicar wearing only a black slip, and Peter wearing nothing but his watch, she had naturally been embarrassed and Maxine had thought it right that they should go round the next day and apologise. Due to a meeting with a parishioner lasting longer than expected, plus the fact that she had a prior appointment with the bishop, Maxine couldn't go and he decided to go alone, whereby he succeeded in getting off with the aforementioned Mrs Thorndike, only to be caught stark naked again, this time by her friend Helen Faraday the Sunday School teacher, firstly to her shock and latterly her amusement. And so, our story continues...

Peter had got home exhausted after his session with Trish Thorndike but he was worried though. He had managed to apologise to Trish for any embarrassment caused and had then enjoyed screwing her and knew that she too had enjoyed her liaison with him as it was the first time she had had any male company in thirteen long years. However, this was now the second time that he had been caught having sex with ladies from the parish. Tongues were bound to wag and it would only be a matter of time before he was caught and then he and possibly Maxine also would be fired. His children would be home the next day also and while they would support him if he were to date suitable ladies, they would be ashamed and embarrassed if they knew that he had been caught in flagrante twice on successive days. Nevertheless, he decided to go and visit Helen the next morning just to set the record straight. 

Meanwhile Helen was sat in Trish's lounge listening to the entire goings on. Trish was now fully dressed again and was telling her not only of the events on the previous afternoon, but those which had taken place within the last hour. 

"Of course, you won't tell anyone, will you," Trish had said to her as she left later that afternoon. "I don't want Abigail to find out."

"No, of course not, you know I won't tell anyone." Helen had said and kept her word, apart from telling her husband, who never went to church anyway, her mum and her sister.

Peter didn't sleep very well that night. He was up early and had a light breakfast. He had a bit of work to do at an old lady's house in his day job as a gardener, just trimming the hedge and sorting out a few weeds. He was round there by eight thirty and finished just before ten 'o clock. He'd had a text from his daughter that morning to say that she would be arriving on the train from London at ten past twelve so he had an hour or so until he had to leave for the station.

Helen lived in a big detached house with her husband who was now a barrister and their two young sons. Her car with its personalised number plate stood on the driveway. She was thirty-two years old, 5'6" tall and had shoulder length strawberry-blond hair with a short fringe and big brown eyes, framed by a pair of gold rimmed spectacles. She wasn't currently working but spent her day looking after her two young children.

Peter rang the bell and waited nervously. He guessed that her children would be at home so there should be no repeat of the previous day's actions. She came to the door wearing a blue blazer over a light blue print floral knee length dress. She wore light hosiery and a pair of high heeled beige sandals.

"Hello Peter," she said smiling. "How are you today?"

"Oh, not so bad," said Peter. "I wondered if I could have a quick word with you about yesterday."

"Sure," she said. "Come in. Mark's working at his office today, he's got a big case starting on Monday and the boys have been at my mums since yesterday lunch time. You've only just caught me; I've just been to a job interview."

Peter thought she looked a bit dressed up just to be child minding.

"What was that for?" he asked, stepping through the front door. "Is it at Mark's office?"

"No," she said. "It's for a teaching assistant at Riverside Primary School. James will be starting there in September and I've got Callum into the Nursery section so I'll be on hand if there are any problems. It was Maxine's suggestion. She noticed how I got on with the Sunday School children and suggested I go for it so I talked it over with Mark and he was all for it."

"So when will you know?" said Peter.

"They told me today, I've already got it," she said. "I had the main interview last week and had to go back for a second one at nine o'clock. Mum's looking after the boys until lunch time."

"Well congratulations," said Peter. "I'm very pleased for you. Now, about yesterday, I hope that Trish and I didn't cause you any embarrassment and I hope that I didn't frighten you too much."

"Well I wasn't embarrassed so much, but you did scare me a little when you loomed up in the doorway," she said. "The last person I expected to find there was you, especially in the buff!"

"Well let's just say that things got a bit out of hand," said Peter. "I went a bit further than maybe I should have and I'm sorry you felt frightened"

"Don't worry about it," said Helen taking off her jacket and laying it over the bannister at the bottom of the stairs. "We've all done things that go too far sometimes. Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee?"

"Cup of coffee please," said Peter. "I've been out since half past eight doing some work on a pensioner's garden so I could do with a drink. I can't stop too long though as Joe and Alice are home for the summer and I've got to pick them up from the station just after twelve and I need to get a bit of shopping."

"Take a seat in the lounge, I'll just put the kettle on," she said. Peter watched her as she disappeared into the kitchen, her short-sleeved floaty dress swirling sexily as she walked and soon he could hear the sound of the water splashing into the kettle and cups clattering as she prepared the coffee. She was soon back.

"I'm just going to nip upstairs and hang my jacket up," she said.

Peter nodded. He heard her going upstairs, the heels on her sandals making a clomping noise on each step. The lounge was quite large with two cream leather armchairs and a matching two seat sofa, a large rectangular expanding dining table and four chairs and a sideboard and display cabinet containing various photographs and ornaments. A large flat screen television and digital box, together with a combined DVD and video player stood in one corner of the room. A red plastic box of toys stood in another.

One particular photograph on the sideboard caught Peter's eye. It had been taken recently and showed Helen, her husband and two boys on a beach with Helen and her husband standing behind the boys who were dressed in identical shorts and t-shirts. Helen was standing almost sideways on with her head looking towards the camera. She was wearing a red strappy top with more than a hint of cleavage and either a pale blue very short skirt or a pair of shorts and red flip-flops. Peter couldn't quite see which as her youngest son covered the view. A black bra strap could also just be seen hanging an inch or so on her left shoulder and her normally immaculate hair looked windswept as a few strands were across the front of her face. All four were smiling broadly at the photographer. 

"My, you're quite a dark horse," Peter thought to himself. "You've been coming to church all these years dressed in conservative dresses, skirts and tops and then you pose in an outfit like that."

He picked the photo up for a second admiring the slim, shapely leg that was on show. Once again, he could feel his cock doing a little dance under his jeans.

"No, Peter, you mustn't, not today," he told himself. "She's far too nice a lady for you, and she's married."

He heard the sound of Helen's heels clomping down the stairs again and put the picture back where he had found it. She walked back into the room again.

"I was just admiring this picture," he said, pointing to the photograph.

"Oh that was taken earlier this year," she said. "My sister, Alison, rented a cottage at Minehead and we had a few days down there with her and the girls. We had good weather, it was sunny every day. Have you ever been?"

Peter shook his head.

"The boys loved it," Helen continued. "We were on the beach every day and there's a steam railway there as well so we took them for a ride on it. I don't know who was the more excited though, Mark or the boys." She studied it for a moment. "Look at my hair," she said. "It was a very windy day that day. We all got very red from the sun and wind and I had to keep putting suntan lotion on the boys every hour or so."

Peter looked with her.

"What's that you're wearing with the top?" he said casually, pointing to the blue item of clothing.

"Oh, it's a skirt," said Helen as a matter of fact. "I had to be very careful every time I sat down, I can tell you. I've got a few like that, but I think that's the shortest."

"Well I think you look lovely," he said. "It's a happy, family picture and it reminds me of when Wendy and I used to take the kids away. It doesn't seem five minutes since we were posing for photos like this." He looked thoughtful for a moment, locked in his memories of his late wife.

"I guess you must still miss her," said Helen.

Peter nodded.

"And the kids do as well, especially Alice," he said. "She can't do all the mother and daughter things that other families do." 

Helen reached out and held his hand as again he was deep in thought. He turned towards her and smiled.

"Thanks," he said.

"That's all right," she said. "We all need a friend sometimes."

In spite of the promises he had made to himself, Peter couldn't resist the urge to kiss her. He leaned forward, put his arms around her waist, and gave her a soft tender kiss on the lips. She kissed him back and he let his hands move further round her waist so that his chest gently brushed against her breasts. As he pulled her closer, he kissed her again letting his hands wander over her slender waistline while she rested hers on his shoulders. His cock jerked as he felt the outline of a suspender belt and the straps and fasteners which supported her stockings. She closed her eyes as he followed up with a longer more passionate kiss. His hands slid over her dress feeling the outline of her underwear as her breasts were squashed against his chest. 

She broke free from her kisses and this gave Peter sufficient time to slide his left hand up to meet her right breast. She moaned slightly as he made contact but didn't resist hiss advances. Peter kissed her again, searching her lips with his tongue. Within seconds, she was responding, moving her arms round his neck as he squeezed and massaged her perfect breast. Soon their tongues were darting in and out of each other's mouths.

Peter brought both hands to the front of her dress. Their deep kisses continued as he groped them through the material. His hands fondled and manipulated them as their tongues collided and entangled themselves. Eventually they broke free and he looked down into her wanton brown eyes. His cock was now rock hard and pressing into her stomach and he pulled her gently towards him once more so that her breasts were now crushed against his chest. She gripped his waist as with his left hand, he gently pulled her hair to one side while his right moved to the zip at the back of her dress. Slowly and purposely he pulled it down to her bottom. Helen released her grip on his waist allowing him to pull the dress from her shoulders. He released his hold on her hair and it fell back into place and then pulled her arms free from its sleeves. Her hands went briefly back on his waist for support as he eased her dress to her waist and it fell to the floor. She stepped from it and picked it up, placing it over the arm of one of the armchairs.

Now it was Helen's turn to take the lead. She turned back towards Peter and started unfastening the buttons on his check shirt. It was slightly stained and smelled of earth from his earlier endeavours in the garden. She ran her fingers through the hairs on his chest before pulling his arms from the sleeves and tossing it into the chair with her dress. His eyes were glued to her body. She had on a soft, silky champagne coloured slip which enveloped the contours of her slender frame resting just above her knee. Two inches of lace sat around the hem with a similar amount around the bust forming a deep v-shaped cleavage and which extended to form the straps before continuing around the back in a shallower indent. He could clearly see the outline of her stockings, suspenders, panties and bra embossed against the material.

The kettle had long since boiled and shut itself off but coffee was now the last thing on Helen's mind as her fingers started to unfasten the belt on his jeans, then the little press stud before she pulled down the zip. She lowered them to his ankles stooping as she did so and giving Peter the sight of her bra and tits down inside the front of her slip as she suddenly realised she wouldn't be able to remove them without taking his trainers off first. She stooped to unfasten them, crouching back on her heels with her knees facing towards him. He looked down again and was rewarded with a fantastic upskirt of her stockings and matching panties as she deftly removed his left trainer and trouser leg before repeating the process with the other. 

"I often have to do that with the Callum," she said standing up and tossing the jeans in the general direction of the armchair. "I'll undo his trousers then forget that he still has his shoes on then get everything in a tangle round his feet."

Peter wished he could be like her youngest son and have the chance to look up his mum's skirt on a daily basis! He pulled her closer once more hugging her so he could feel her slip rubbing against the hairs on his chest. His cock was now hard on in front of him and Helen didn't waste any time releasing it from its prison. She sat down on the leather sofa and put her hands around its shaft, pulling back the foreskin to fully expose the glans before taking it to her lips and licking it enthusiastically. Peter felt his balls stiffen as she took it into his mouth and began sucking it readily. He could see her tits, still within the confines of her bra, rocking steadily as she rhythmically pursued her quest as he looked down inside her slip once more. Her left hand cupped his balls, while her right was rubbing her panties through the front of her slip.

Peter could feel the sap rising within him once more. He rested his hands on her shoulders until with a grunt and a big tremor through his body he shot a load into her mouth. She swallowed it quite easily and hardly a drop was spilt with just a couple of small spots falling into the lap of the slip as he withdrew. He dropped down onto the sofa beside her and kissed her once more, licking some of his own seed from his lips.

"Shall we go upstairs," said Peter standing up.

"What for," said Helen pushing back her hair over her shoulders and standing up to face him.

"Well, so that we don't get any stains on your beautiful furniture or carpets," he said.

"No, it's fine," said Helen. "It's easy clean. When you've got two youngsters in the house you need furniture that wipes clean easily. Anyway I'm surprised you'll be able to get upstairs after what you've been up to these last few days," she said with a giggle.

"I beg your pardon," said Peter, the hint of a smile playing across his lips. What do you mean by that remark, pray young lady?"

"Well, you been shagging Maxine and Trish, plus I've just jerked you off, then you've got your day job. It must be a strain for an old man like you!" It was such unladylike language for a Sunday School teacher and soon to be classroom teaching assistant.

"You cheeky madam!" said Peter raising a hand as if to strike her. "You think I haven't got the strength do you, you just wait, lady!"

Helen squealed and tried to dodge round the side of the sofa but a large standard lamp blocked her passage and Peter was able to grab her by the waist. She struggled a bit trying to get free but his strong arms held her tight. He pulled her back on the sofa, squealing and squirming, her dishevelled hair flopping across her face. Eventually she calmed down and Peter started kissing her once more. She was now sitting sideways on to him on his knee. Peter's right hand was round her waist while his left took a little wander beneath the hem of the slip, over the top of her stockings and across the gusset of her panties. She was already very damp and she flinched when she felt his fingers.

He stood her up facing him once more and slid the straps of the slip from her shoulders and away from her arms. It fell in a heap at her feet but she left it where it was as he now had his hands over her shoulders searching out her bra clasp. Unlike Trish the previous day, she didn't make a fuss and let him remove the flimsy piece of lace material, which along with the colour of her panties, matched that of the slip. He gave a low whistle.

"My word Helen, what gorgeous tits you have" he said in awe. They may not have been as big as Trish's but they were perfect in every detail from the equal diameter of the pink areolas to the semi erect nipples. He knew it would have been rude to ask her size, but guessed she would have been about a 34C. He started massaging and fondling them, tweaking the nipple ends with his fingers to make them fully erect. He kissed them gently and sucked each nipple in turn until they were hard and upright then slipped his hands inside the waistband of her panties and pushed then over her hips. Now it was his turn to stoop as he helped her lift each foot to remove the slip and panties at her feet.

Her pussy hairs were slightly redder than her natural hair colour and had been recently trimmed. Her cunt lips could easily be seen and were moist and ready. Helen lay back on the sofa, her head on a cushion and spread her stocking-clad legs wantonly over the other arm, her strappy high heeled sandals still on her feet. Peter climbed on top of her and primed his cock ready.

"Are you okay with this," he asked suddenly feeling a little guilty that he was about to pleasure a married lady. Helen nodded.

"Yes, it's fine," she said gripping the back of his neck. "What Mark doesn't know about, he can't worry about. But of course, if you feel you're not up to it, I'll understand!"

"I'll show you who's up to it," said Peter, and he pushed his cock firmly between her open lips until it was in as far as it would go. He settled into a steady rhythm with his left arm around her shoulder, while his right alternated by pushing her hair from across her face and massaging her left nipple. Each penetration caused her lower body to rise off the sofa and her tits to bounce up and down in unison. Her glasses were still fixed in place but this Sunday School teacher was proving to be far from meek and mild as her body responded to Peter's advances. 




The Organist Entertains Ch. 03



Peter carried on with his exertions as she began to gasp and utter expletives in a curious squeaky voice, completely y different to her normal one.

"Oh...oh...Fucking ...Hell!...oh shit...oh..." she gasped as her body shuddered and shook. "Oh...my...God... Oohh...ahhh...oh Christ...oh...this is...it...OOHHH" She climaxed with an almighty yell and her body shuddered as her orgasm spewed forth her juices and Peter's buttocks tensed and relaxed as he felt his seed boil up inside him until with one last heave he erupted inside her a few seconds later. He flopped on top of her.

"So how's that for an 'old' man," he said propping himself up with his elbows either side of her and resting his chest on her still heaving bosom.

"I'll tell you when I've got my breath back," gasped Helen, "Phew!"

Her light tan stockings were covered in a mixture of hers and Peter's cum and the sofa also had a few stains on it. Peter climbed off her and allowed her to sit up and get her breath back properly. She blew another large warm breath of air out over her bottom lip and it lifted her fringe, and then gave Peter a big smile.

"I enjoyed that, thank you," she said. "Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"Maybe," said Peter, knowing that he would love to do her again. "It depends whether the 'old man' can manage it!" 

She laughed as the muffled sound of a tinny version of 'All Things Bright and Beautiful' bought them back to the real world. It was Peter's mobile and he searched his jeans pocket for it and answered it. It was his daughter, Alice."

"Hi love, where are you?" he said.

"At the station," said his daughter over the phone.

"What time is it?" he said looking at his watch. It was nearly quarter past twelve. Time had just raced by. "Sorry, I lost track of time," he said. "I've been planting a few seeds for a client and I've just got to tidy up a bit so get a coffee or something if you want and I'll see you soon." He signed off with the traditional 'love you' and set about gathering his clothes together.

Helen had also gathered all her clothes together. She laughed when she heard him tell Alice that he had planted a few seeds. She went upstairs leaving Peter in the lounge to dress. He was just about to step into his boxers when he saw a lady watching him through the patio window. She had short, grey permed haired, was aged in her late fifties and wore a yellow skirt and a white blouse hanging over the waistband, together with white sandals. He recognised her as Mary Stanlake, wife of David, the church warden and well known undertaker in the area. She ducked away when she saw Peter looking at her and he quickly pulled on his boxer shorts and jeans in case she reappeared. She did, but this time in the lounge behind him as he was fastening his shirt. He jumped when he saw her.

"Hi Mary, are you looking for Helen?" he asked.

"No, actually it's you I was after," she said. "I saw your car outside and wondered if you could come and cut back an old fir tree in my back garden. It's got far too big. I've been on at David for ages to get it sorted but he's been so busy lately. I'm sure you can strip some layers away for me." The last remark was said quite flirtatiously seeing how she had discovered him a few minutes earlier. 

Before he could say anything, Helen came back into the room. She had stripped off her stockings, tied her hair back in a ponytail and was wearing a white vest top and a red floral skirt which sat just above her knee. A white bra strap was just visible peeking out from under one of the straps and the vest top revealed a small amount of cleavage.

"Oh, hello Mary, come for a nose, have you? She doesn't miss much you know!" she said to Peter. Mary lived just around the corner from Helen, and the pair were often round at each other's houses. The remark was said with humour rather than sarcastically.

"No," said Mary, "I've asked Peter if he can have a look at the big fir tree in our garden. You know the one I was talking to you about the other day? I've been on at David about it but you know what he's like. He never gets round to things."

"Well I can't do it today now because Joe and Alice are waiting for me at the station," said Peter, tying his laces. "I can pop round in the morning and have a look if you like."

"Yes, that would be fine," said Mary. "What time?"

"About nine thirty okay?" said Peter. Mary agreed and left saying her goodbyes to Helen. 

Peter also said his goodbyes to her. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, followed by another more sensual one on the lips which she reciprocated. The sound of a car drawing up on the driveway broke them up as two noisy young boys came running into the kitchen.

"Mummy, mummy, we're home!" They said as Helen scooped them up into her arms and kissed them. Two young, eager voices then started regaling her with their exploits that morning with their grandparents, who had now followed them into the lounge. 

Helen showed Peter to the door.

"I'll be in touch about the garden," he said as he left, trying to make it sound as though he had been there professionally. "I can let you know on Sunday."

Helen nodded. The boys had now joined her at the front door and together they waved him off as he got into his car.

"What was it about the ladies of the parish," he mused to himself as he drove to the station. "Suddenly they all seemed to be lusting after his body. Ever since the new vicar had arrived, attitudes had changed and people seemed friendlier towards each other."

He only hoped that the 'old man' was up to it!



The Organist Entertains Ch. 04



Life in the parish of St Leonard's had changed in the last few months. A new vicar had arrived, with new ideas, and she had brought resurgence in parish activities. Reverend Maxine Power was in her early thirties, or that's what it had said in the introductory article in the parish magazine. Nobody knew her exact age, but from her looks, a plain looking brunette, with shoulder length hair normally tied back with a gold hair clip, you could assume that that was correct. The Sunday School had been resurrected and new, younger members had been inaugurated into the church choir and a Summer Fete was planned for the coming weekend.

But this was no ordinary vicar. Although she was still single, she had a voracious sexual appetite and had succeeded in seducing Peter, the choir master, after a series of wedding services one Saturday afternoon, then bedding him after the Sunday morning service the next day, during which they had been caught in the act by Trish, the mother of one of the choir girls.

Being a gallant gentleman, Peter had felt obliged to apologise Trish, only to end up bedding her as well and being caught out by her friend, Helen, the newly appointed Sunday School teacher and soon to be primary school teaching assistant. Subsequently, he had gone round to apologise to her, screwed her in the lounge, and was then spotted getting dressed by Mary Stanlake, churchwarden and near neighbour of Helen's. Mary hadn't seemed too fazed by the events and had even asked him round to trim a large tree in her garden; Peter's day job being that of a gardener.

Mary was quite an outgoing sort of person. She had short, permed, grey hair and was large in stature. She told everybody her age was in her 'late fifties' and it was true that she had been married to David for over thirty five years but nobody had ever questioned it. She had a sense of humour and a raucous laugh that could be heard across a crowded room. She had been raised from working class stock and could sometimes come across as 'common', whereas David was more middle class. He was the third generation Stanlake to run the family funeral business but their marriage had been a happy one resulting in their two daughters and two grandchildren by their eldest daughter. 

Peter was round just after nine thirty the next morning. The Stanlakes lived in a large four bedroomed bungalow with their youngest daughter Josephine, or Josie to her friends, on the outskirts of town just around the corner from Helen and her family and about a mile from St Leonards' church. David had left for work at the family funeral business along with Josie who worked as a receptionist and administration assistant. Their eldest daughter Rebecca also worked there as a trainee Funeral director but she was away on holiday with her husband and family. 

Mary showed him the tree in question and he wasted no time in getting started. It took him well over an hour to trim it and a further hour when he had finished tidying away all the branches ready for the council to collect later that day so they could be turned into wood chippings and make sure that there were no sizable splinters of wood left lying around.

Mary, meanwhile, was busy baking in the kitchen. The vicar had organised a summer fete for Saturday and she had already made various large cakes to sell on the cake stall and was busy doing some scones for Trish to sell on the refreshments stall. A delicious aroma of freshly baked produce emanated from the kitchen down the garden and it was making Peter feel quite hungry. 

When he had finished, he knocked on the kitchen door. Mary had just lifted another tray of scones from the oven and put them on the kitchen table.

"Come in," she called and Peter walked in.

"I expect you would like a drink after all that work," she said. "Do you want tea or coffee, or I could offer you a glass of David's 'Old Sparky'"

"What on earth is that?" said Peter, intrigued. 

"His home made beer," said Mary. "He's brewed it for years. He wanted to sell it at the fete this weekend but we don't have a drink's licence, plus it's a bit potent. Two glasses and you'll be flat on your back."

Peter didn't fancy a hot drink as he was already sweating. It was a hot, humid morning and already a few ominous looking clouds were developing. 

"I'll try a glass of 'Old Sparky', please," he said. 

Mary pulled two half pint glasses from the cupboard and a bottle of the homemade brew from the fridge. She filled about three quarters of each glass and handed one to him.

"Cheers!" She said to him, touching his glass with hers, and Peter responded similarly. "Let's go through into the conservatory," she said. "I've finished baking for the time being. Hopefully it will be a bit cooler in there."

She led the way through the lounge and out into the large conservatory. Theirs was a large garden with a moderately high hedge surrounding it and they were not overlooked by any other properties. There was a small wooden dining table surrounded by four wicker chairs each with cushions, plus a normal two seat sofa also with cushions looking out to the garden. Another smaller table with a few plants stood in front of the sofa.

Mary sat on the sofa while Peter sat at the table. He felt safe with her. On Sunday, he had had sex with the vicar, on Monday it was Trish and on Tuesday it was Helen's turn. All three were younger than himself and eager and willing partners. Mary was older and wiser. She had always told people she was in her late fifties, but everyone knew that her older daughter Rebecca was thirty three years old while Josie was twenty nine. David had once said many years ago that Mary was twenty eight when they married, so surely that would make her at least sixty one. It didn't make sense as Rebecca would have to have been born out of wedlock if she were anything less.

They had only just sat down when the phone rang. The phone was in the hallway and Mary got up and left the room to answer it. When he sat down, Peter had noticed that three passports sat on the table but had said nothing. Now curiosity got the better of him. He pulled them towards him and had a shifty look at each. 

David's passport was the top one. Peter read his date of birth as 31st January 1949 which made him 64 years of age and tied in with the fact that David was planning to retire the next year and hand over the business to his daughters, the UK retirement age for men being 65 years of age. He smiled at his middle name 'Montgomery', and then remembered that he had once said his father had fought under the command of his famous namesake in the Second World War. Next was Josie's, or Josephine Margaret to be precise, her date of birth being 29th March 1984, making her 29 years of age and finally the prize one of Susannah Mary Stanlake, date of birth 17th June 1949. He looked at the date on his mobile, Wednesday 10th July 2013. She had celebrated her sixty-fourth birthday a few weeks before.

"You old devil, you," thought Peter to himself. "All this time you've been fibbing about your age and you've been found out through being careless by leaving your passport out."

He heard her coming back from the hallway and quickly pushed the passports back along the table where he had found them.

"Are you going away somewhere?" asked Peter as she sat down on the sofa again. "Only there are some passports on the table here."

"Oh, we're off to Sorrento at end of the August, David, Josie and I. It's a belated birthday present," she said. "I've been doing the online check in on my laptop and must have left them there. It will be the last holiday as a family as Josie is getting married on the twenty-eighth of September."

She stood up and picked up the passports and took them through into the other room.

"That was Trish Thorndike on the phone," she said changing the subject as she came back in and sat down on the sofa again. "She wants me to do some more cakes and sausage rolls for Saturday." She paused a moment to have a drink of her beer. "By the way, I hear you caused quite a stir with the ladies," she added.

"Oh, in what way?" said Peter casually, taking a drink of his. The homemade brew was certainly potent and it made him cough and splutter when he swallowed it. "Blimey," he said when he had got his breath back. "That's got some kick, hasn't it?" Mary laughed her raucous laugh.

"It has if you're not used to it, "she said. "You'll be fine." She took some more of her drink. "No, as I was saying, you certainly caused an impression. I hear that you've been entertaining the vicar and Trish has been singing your praises and Helen too. I know what you'd been up to yesterday when I called round. You were well and truly caught with your pants down, weren't you?"

"I didn't mean it to go that far with any of them, certainly not Trish and especially not Helen," he said. "I mean, she's a married lady with a young family."

"Don't be fooled by her," said Mary. "She's a great friend and a super mum to her kids, and she may look meek and mild, but she's a right little vixen. Don't tell anyone will you, but she and her husband are members of a swinger's club, you know, they entertain other couples at each other's houses. Her sister and her husband are too. They all had a few days in Minehead with some friends a few months ago, and they usually meet on a Monday evening at someone's house, taking it in turns to host and that. It was their turn the day before last."

Peter thought back to the happy photograph he had seen the day before and also the fact that the boys had spent the night with her parents on the Monday night. She certainly was a dark horse, but there was also the fact that everyone seemed to know everyone else's business. What a lot of gossips those church people were.

"Well, you're safe with me today, Mary," he said finishing his drink. "I'd better be off. I think we're going to get a storm soon so I'd better get home."

"Oh, have another drink," said Mary filling up his glass again and topping hers up also. "I don't think it will come to anything just yet." She took a few more mouthfuls of beer and reached across and patted his knee. "I might be safe with you. But are you safe with me?" she said with a glint in her eye. "Come and sit here on the sofa with me."

"No thanks, I'm fine where I am," said Peter taking another sip of beer. 

"Oh, go on," said Mary. "It will be more comfortable than those chairs."

She had a point. Although the chairs had a thin cushion on the seat, Peter was finding it hard and uncomfortable so he got up and moved over to the sofa next to her.

"That's better," she said taking another large mouthful of beer. "Phew, isn't it stuffy? My clothes are sticking to me." She wore a cream coloured short sleeved cotton blouse which overlapped the waistband of a salmon pink pleated skirt. She took hold of the blouse collar and flapped it, trying to relieve the sweatiness. "Oh, this bloody heat, she said. "It's far too humid. The sooner we get a storm the better."

The sky had darkened considerably in the last couple of minutes and it was beginning to get up windy. She stood up and closed the door from the conservatory to the garden as it had started to bang. She sat down again next to Peter, taking yet another swig from her glass. Suddenly, she looked a little nervous.

"What's the matter? said Peter, noting her anxious look.

"I've just heard it thunder," she said. "I'm not a great lover of thunderstorms. I wonder if you would stop with me for a while until it passes over, only I don't really want to be here on my own."

"Well, I was hoping to get home before the storm broke," said Peter. "I didn't particularly want to be driving in torrential rain, but okay." 

Mary slipped her left arm through Peter's right one and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. 

"Thanks awfully," she said, and took another swig from her glass. Considering it was a potent drink, she seemed to be drinking it quite freely, whereas Peter was sipping his quite slowly. There was another audible rumble of thunder and Mary gripped his arm quite tightly.

"Put your arms around me," she said. "Hug me."

"Are you sure," said Peter. He had known David and Mary for a long time and they were both long-standing and trusted friends of his and his late wife.

"Oh, yes," said Mary.

Peter did as he was requested and put his arms around her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder and looked up towards him.

"Oh, that's better," she said. "I feel safer now." Her left arm was round behind his back and she draped her right across his waist. She slowly brought it down and started to stroke his groin area through his jeans. His cock started to do its usual little dance underneath the rough material.

She started to unfasten his belt, followed by the zip, then the little metal stud which held them fastened. She pulled down the front of his boxer shorts and it sprang upright.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Mary seeing seven inches of manhood in front of her. "You have got a big willy, much bigger than David's! Do you know he's only about an inch and a half at rest and just about five when he's hard, but he needs a job lot of Viagra to manage that these days!" She laughed her raucous laugh again.

"Too much information!" Peter thought and he couldn't help but smile at the description of his friend's shortcomings. He sat forward as she brought her other arm out from behind him and started to manhandle it gently.

"I thought you wanted someone to hold your hand during the storm," he said.

"I need something to take my mind off things," said Mary. "Gosh, it's true what Trish and Helen said. You have got a big one!"

She leaned forward. A speck of precum had appeared at its tip and she licked it away. She started working her hands over the shaft, rubbing them backwards and forwards. She put her mouth down onto it as a flash of lightning lit up the room followed by a clap of thunder. She jumped slightly but carried on as the rumble died away. His willy soon filled her mouth and she began sucking greedily on it. Peter meanwhile had stared to unfasten the buttons down the front of her blouse. Mary broke away from her cock sucking long enough to allow him to slide it from her back. She wore an ivory coloured satin camisole underneath with an inch of lace on the bust and very thin straps that sat out of line to the pink bra straps beneath it.

She resumed her sucking of his cock again and Peter was able to reach down with his right hand and unfasten the zip and button on her skirt waist as she leaned forward. When she next came up for air, she lifted her bottom off the sofa and slid it forward to the floor. She wore a matching set of French Knickers beneath, the lace round the leg matching that on the bust of the camisole. Peter gave a little whistle.

"Do you like it? David brought it for my birthday last month," she said. "It's only the second time I've worn it."

"You look gorgeous in it," he said. "But..." He was about so say that it would look better without a bra underneath but his words were interrupted by the sound of someone putting the key in the front door and opening it. He sat upright, suddenly worried. Supposing it was David who had come back. What would he say if he caught him with his wife?

It wasn't David though, it was Josie. He heard her footsteps coming down the hallway, through the lounge and into the conservatory. She didn't bat an eyelid when she saw the pair of them together, but merely smiled at them both.

"Hi mum, hello Peter," she said quite nonchalantly. "It looks as though we're going to get a storm. I heard a clap of thunder when I got out of the car just now."

Mary had taken a hold on Peter's cock again and was once more rubbing the shaft. She turned and looked towards her daughter without ceasing her actions.

"Hi love," she said, and Peter nodded. "I didn't expect you home yet."

"No," said Josie. "Dad thought you might be a bit nervous with the storm, but I can see you have the matter in hand. He's just getting Sheila Ryder ready for this afternoon. Her family are coming to see her. Then he's got Lydia Plant at three o'clock."

"Well, I hope this storm has finished by then," said Mary, still stroking Peter's cock. "Still, it's at the crematorium isn't it? It'll be nice and dry and warm in there."

"Yes," said Josie, not seeming to notice what her mother was doing. 

"Have we had any new bodies today?" Mary asked a little irreverently.

Yes, we've had one," said Josie. "Emily Hislop, who used to run the sweet shop in The Square, passed away in hospital yesterday morning so she'll be coming to us. Derek and Ron are going to pick her up in the morning."

"Well, she hasn't been well for a bit," said Mary, dipping her head and licking another bit of precum from the tip of Peter's cock which had receded when he'd heard the key in the door. The sight of Josie in the doorway in her dark suit and with her dark hair tied back with a tortoiseshell hair claw had helped to stimulate it again. Suddenly, there was another flash of lightning followed a few seconds later by a rumble of thunder. 

"I'd better be getting back before it rains too heavy," said Josie. One or two strands of hair had flopped down the side of her face and she reached up and unfastened the claw letting her hair fall free for a moment, before gathering it all back and reclipping it. It was rare for anyone to see her with her hair loose and the sight of it made Peter's cock rock hard. She kissed her mother and said her goodbyes to her and Peter.

"Oh, before I go," she said to Peter, "Dad says can you call round to the office in the morning. He's got some work he'd like you to do in the garden there."

Peter nodded, and she waved and walked out as yet another flash of lightning lit up the room. She closed the door as the thunder rumbled. 

"I hope she gets back okay," said Mary as a few spots of rain appeared on the conservatory window. "Oh I say, look at your willy!"

Peter's 'willy' was now standing out proud in front of him. Much of it had been down to Josie's presence rather than Mary's actions. She helped him off with his jeans and boxers and started to suck once more. It was now raining quite fast and thundering and lightning quite frequently. Peter knew there was to be no escape for the immediate future so there was only one thing for it, he would literally have to ride out the storm. He was now naked from the waist down except for his socks. Within a couple of minutes, he had erupted deep into her throat and she swallowed it readily. 

Mary stood up and helped him off with his t-shirt, then pulled him towards her and started kissing him on the lips, trying to thrust her tongue between them. The silkiness her satin camisole slid across the hairs on his chest. Her hands were over his shoulders and he had his on her waist as he reciprocated her actions. He brought his hands up under the back of the camisole, fiddling with the hooks and eyes at the back of her bra. He felt the two ends of material slacken as the last clasp was undone. He slipped the camisole straps from her shoulders and lifted it clean over her head before pulling the lifeless bra straps from her shoulders and away so that her breasts fell droopily in front of her. Suffice to say they were not as perfect as they had once been and sagged outwardly a little, but they were still quite pliant to touch and the nipples stood half erect ready for action. He tweaked each one in turn and started sucking them and kneading them with his fingers until they were once more hard and erect. His right hand crept down inside the smooth satin knickers. To his amazement, he could find no pussy hair only her cunt lips, swollen and already dripping.

Peter put his hands to the side of the knickers and slid them down. Her pussy was completely shaven and her cunt lips were easily visible. She sat back down on the little sofa and spread her legs invitingly, fingering her cunt.




The Organist Entertains Ch. 04



"Put your nice big willy in here and fuck me," she said. "Make me feel like a woman."

Peter needed no second invitation. He positioned himself against her and presented himself. For a large lady, she was quite tight inside and he found it difficult to enter her. Gradually he felt the muscles inside tighten until he was firmly in and he began his thrusts.

Outside, the rain was now streaming down the window pane and it was thundering and lightning every minute or so. Inside, Mary was thrusting up and down and the sofa was rocking and bouncing as she did so. In, out, in, out, he thrusted, his face coming perilously close at times to her large, heaving breasts.

She was breathing quite heavily, grunting and gasping as her bottom momentarily left the sofa each time. Another flash, another clap of thunder, and yet more grunting as Peter slowly and painfully continued. Mary's grunts turned to exclamations as she built up to a crescendo.

"Oh...oh...orrggh...oh fuck...oh God this is good. David, you bastard...you...are...so...good!"

Peter carried on with his work, wondering why she was calling him by her husband's name.

"Oh...oh...oh David, oh...this is it...I'm coming...Oh Boy...I'm com...ing...DAVID!"

Peter shot his seed as her body trembled and she came with a massive orgasm. A flash of forked lightning followed by the immediate loud bang and clap of thunder seemed to emphasize the event that had just taken place. She lay back on the sofa panting heavily, red in the face. Peter climbed off her. For once, he too was quite breathless. 

"You called me David," he said when he had regained his breath.

"I always imagine that it's him who is making love to me," said Mary. "He can't do it now bless him, not without a few Viagra pills!" She laughed her raucous laugh again and Peter wondered how many other men had shared the same fate that he had just encountered.

"I can tell you've enjoyed it," said Peter, and Mary grinned. "Look, I'd better be off," he said. "Joe and Alice will be worried. He had heard his mobile going off in his jeans' pocket and had noted his daughter's name showing as a missed call.

Mary nodded. She looked a little disappointed and would doubtless have kept him longer if she could have. The rain had eased and there were only a few distant rumbles of thunder as they dressed. Peter rang his daughter who had indeed been worried and assured her that everything was okay and got ready to leave as Mary poured herself yet another glass of Old Sparky. Now fully dressed, she led him to the door.

"I'll see you around," said Peter as she opened the door.

"Yes, okay," said Mary, swaying slightly on her feet as she said it. 

Peter smiled and waved. He turned and walked towards his car. The storm had now passed but he wondered if there would be an even bigger one around the corner if David found out about their encounter.



The Organist Entertains Ch. 05



The parish of St Leonards was certainly a changed one in recent months. The new incumbent vicar, Reverend Maxine Power had seen to that. Congregations had increased, new members had been added to the choir, the Sunday School had been reinstated and a parish fete had been planned for the coming Saturday Afternoon.

The parishioners had also become friendlier towards each other, most notably to date the organist, Peter Noakes, who had enjoyed pleasuring the vicar herself, a choirgirl's mother and the not so meek and mild Sunday School teacher. His most recent conquest was with the churchwarden's wife, who was much older and larger than any of his previous conquests and was also a closet alcoholic. He was also worried that they had been caught during their encounter by Mary's younger daughter, Josie, and whether she would tell her father. As a result, he didn't sleep very well again that night.

He was round at David's office by nine thirty the following morning. It was now Thursday and it seemed like a lifetime since he had had his first encounter in Maxine's car on the cliff top on the Saturday afternoon, followed by their antics in the vicarage after the following morning's service. To call David's workplace an office was actually a bit of an understatement. It was actually their former home, a large Victorian house with an old stable block which had been converted over twenty years previously into larger premises for the business when they had moved to their current bungalow.

The building had quite large grounds in front of it, mainly lawns with a few small flower beds, and some small conifer hedges bordering each boundary of the property to give some privacy and also to avoid causing distress to the neighbours, which were both private houses. The stables had been converted into garages for the hearse, two limousines and a private ambulance and were separated from the front garden by two large black wooden gates. The driveway to the gates and round in front of the main door was black tarmac and a low wall separated the property from the main road. 

Peter called into the reception area where Josie was sitting at her desk to find out what needed doing in the grounds and was soon hard at work trimming the hedge borders. It was a much cooler day and overcast following the previous day's storm and so was more pleasant to work in. He had been working for about an hour when David came out to speak to him. He was all dressed up in his funeral clothes which consisted of a black tailcoat, grey striped trousers and a white shirt and a black tie. 

"Hello, thanks for coming round yesterday and sorting out that tree. Mary's been nagging at me for months to get it sorted, but you know how it is when you get to my age, it's like when you see a pretty girl, the mind wants to, but the body can't!" he said. For a Funeral Director he was quite a jovial character and in the right circumstances had a jolly sense of humour. "And I hear you were looking after Mary yesterday during the thunderstorm. The old girl never has liked them you know. She said you managed to take her mind off it."

"Well, yes," said Peter. He wondered just how much David knew and whether it was a ruse to get him to admit to anything. "Mind you, a few glasses of 'Old Sparky' helped!" he said. David laughed.

"The old girl always has liked that," he said. "I don't drink it much myself, it's a bit too potent, but Mary likes to offer it to visitors. It's a great ice breaker."

Peter knew just how much of an ice breaker it was. Doubtless if it hadn't been for the storm and two glasses of the stuff, he wouldn't have done what he had with Mary the previous day.

"Were you out in it yesterday?" he said tactfully changing the subject away from Mary.

"No, thank heavens," said David. "We were getting a client ready for a final viewing but I was talking to Joe Richardson in The Plough last night and they were doing a burial in the town cemetery when the storm broke and they practically had to drop the coffin in the hole. They were like drowned rats when they had finished. Mind you, I've always said that Joe Richardson has been a big drip for years and that son of his is wet behind the ears!"

Richardson's were the only other funeral business in the town and David laughed out loud at his witticism over his rival's misfortunes.

"Anyway, can't stand here talking, we've got to take Sheila on her final journey," he said turning towards the black gates which were now open. "I'll perhaps see you later when we get back and we can go for a pint in The Plough afterwards. If you need anything, Josie's in the office."

"Yes, okay," said Peter.

He watched as David strode away. The hearse, complete with coffin, had now pulled through the gates into the front garden. David opened the passenger door and took out his bowler hat and cane. He put his hat on and walked to the front of it, bowed and turned to face the main entrance. Suddenly he was very stern and serious looking as he strode slowly and purposely towards the gate, followed by the hearse and two limousines. Peter bowed his head as it passed by. The cortege paused at the entrance as the funeral attendant in the second limousine closed the black gates and got in the passenger seat. David bowed again and got into the passenger seat of the hearse and Peter watched as it turned onto the main road and drove away.

He resumed his work trimming the hedges, tidying up each section as he worked, piling up the branches as he had done the previous day ready for the council to collect. The overcast sky had darkened a little and it had started to drizzle with rain. This didn't worry him too much but in the space of half an hour, it came on quite heavy and persistent. In the end he decided that enough was enough and he decided to call it a day and come back the following morning to finish off. He went to the office where Josie had been working earlier, but the door was locked. He rang the bell and she came to open it. Her dark hair was once again pulled back with the tortoiseshell claw she had worn the day before. She was wearing a grey cardigan, blue and white vertical striped blouse and a straight black knee length skirt. A pair of black court shoes and dark hosiery completed the outfit.

"Sorry about that," she said. "I'm on my own now that dad and the boys are out and we always lock the door to stop anyone wandering in. Both cars are out today otherwise sometimes there's someone here with me so then we don't bother."

"Oh, right," said Peter. "It's come on wet now, so I'm going. If it eases, I might come back later, otherwise I'll be back in the morning, if that's okay."

"Sure," said Josie. "Would you like a drink before you go? I was just going to have one."

"It's not 'Old Sparky', is it," said Peter cautiously.

"Oh my God no!" said Josie. "I see mum got you on that yesterday. Personally, I can't stand it. It goes straight to my head. It's tea or coffee only, I'm afraid."

Peter settled for a cup of tea and he followed Josie to the kitchen and watched as she set about making it.

"It's a nice place you've got here," he said as Josie switched on the kettle and placed a teabag into each of two mugs.

"Yes," she said. "This used to be our home you know. I can remember living here when I was at primary school, then Dad brought the bungalow and turned this into the business office. Before that, we used to have rather cramped premises near the station. We've just had a few alterations done. Would you like to have a look around while the kettle boils?"

Peter agreed and she led him from the kitchen back into the hallway towards the front door. Josie's office was on the right as you walked in the front door. It had once been the house dining room. Opposite was another door which she opened.

"It looks different," said Peter. "I don't remember it being like this when I came to see Wendy."

Wendy was Peter's wife. She had died three years earlier from breast cancer and Stanlakes had handled all the arrangements.

"No it wasn't, we've recently had this room renovated," Josie said. "This was our lounge and we used to use it as a waiting area but we've now branched out into hospitality so that mourners can come back here after the funeral and mingle, have a few refreshments and a chat, you know. Dad's persuaded Trish Thorndike to come and help with the catering. She used to work in a baker's shop until a few weeks ago so she knows all about food hygiene."

The room was quite large and contained a couple of sofas and armchairs plus a few small tables and chairs. There was probably about room for thirty people. Josie then led him down the hallway past the stairs. The next door from the lounge was the old library and it was tastefully decorated with two easy chairs and a sofa.

This is where we bring clients to discuss the arrangements," said Josie. "Usually my dad or Rebecca will come in here with them."

Peter was quite impressed. There wasn't anything dreary or mournful. Everything was very tastefully decorated and in light airy colours. At the end of the hallway was a door with a key pad to allow entry. Josie keyed in the digits and pushed the door forward. There was a short corridor with three wide doors at equal distances and another door at the end.

These are our chapels of rest," she said. "This is where people come to pay their last respects. Sheila was in this one until this morning," she said opening the first door. There was a simple bier covered in a pale cream satin cloth, a chair and a small table with a box of tissues.

"We can put things in here, like a bible, family mementos, photographs, anything like that," she said. "There's nobody in the next one and Sid Carter is in the one at the end."

She took him through the door at the end of the corridor where there was a lift to the upper floor and the door which led out to the garages and also the mortuary.

"Well you certainly have a good set up here," said Peter as they walked back into the hallway past the stairs. "What's up there?"

"Storerooms and the like. Come up and see," said Josie. They went upstairs and she showed him the rooms. The large bedroom at the back was full of wooden coffins, minus their fixtures and fittings. There were about a dozen there. "These are all standard sizes," she explained. "If we need anything larger or more elaborate, we have to order them in."

Next to that was the linen store containing various rolls of material for lining the coffins plus various sized shrouds and other clothing items. The little bedroom on the front contained wardrobes where the staff kept their formal uniform jackets and coats and also stored their everyday coats and bags when they were at work. There was also a bathroom and finally a fully fitted bedroom overlooking the front garden. Peter was a bit surprised as the bed was made up complete with sheets and a duvet. 

"What do you need that for?" he asked pointing to the bed.

"Some of the guys use it when they're on call at night," she said. "It saves them disturbing their families if they get called out in the middle of the night. Dad's used it a few times, so have Derek and Ron. It's very comfortable." 

She sat on the left hand side and swung her legs onto the bed giving Peter a flash up her skirt as she did so.

"Come and see for yourself," she said laying her head back on the pillow and patting the space next to her.

Peter was a bit hesitant however the bed did look very comfortable so he kicked off his trainers and walked round to the opposite side. He lay on the bed next to Josie, his hands on his stomach, looking up towards the ceiling. 

"It is comfy, isn't it?" he said. "I could almost nod off on here."

Josie turned towards him and propped herself up on her right elbow.

"You could do a lot more than nod off on here," she said, running her left hand slowly down Peter's left leg.

"Now come on," said Peter sitting up. "We can't do anything here. Your dad will be back in a bit and besides, what if someone needs your services?"

"Dad won't be back for ages yet," said Josie, pushing him back again. She looked at her watch. "It's nearly half past eleven. They'll be at St Martins now for the service, that'll be for about half an hour, then they've got to go to the crematorium, that's not until twelve thirty, so nobody will be back here much before one o'clock. We've got about an hour and a half all ourselves."

"Supposing someone comes to the door or phones up," said Peter. "You can't ignore them."

"Nobody can get in," said Josie. "We don't get many personal callers. If we do, I'll go and answer them and should anyone ring there's a phone on the bedside table here, and one in the mortuary and the garage. It rings everywhere so I can easily answer it."

She pointed to a black phone on the bedside table next to her.

"Well, you certainly have everything covered," said Peter.

"Like I say, relax," said Josie pushing him back on the bed again. "There's just you and I up here, and Sid and Emily downstairs, and they won't be disturbing us!"

Peter had forgotten about the two deceased persons downstairs; Sid in the chapel of rest and Emily in the mortuary cooler, but his mind was soon diverted as Josie leaned over him and started kissing him on the lips. He reciprocated and put his arms round her shoulder blades, pulling her towards him so that her breasts brushed against his chest. His cock had risen dramatically beneath his denim jeans and Josie ceased her kissing actions just long enough to unfasten his zip and pull it out through his boxer shorts with her left hand. She started to run her hand along its shaft while leaning across him and kissing him once more. Every so often, she would run her thumb over the glans at the end, feeling for any precum that may have formed.

Once she was satisfied that all in order, she pulled herself up and turned round so that she was kneeling at right angles to Peter's left hip. She pulled off her shoes and dropped them behind her and they fell with a clump to the floor, then she steadied his cock with her right hand and supported his balls with her left and brought her mouth down encasing his cock completely so that the glans was touching the back of her throat. She started sucking enthusiastically, bobbing her head up and down in a steady rhythm. Peter lay back, slightly propped up on his elbows watching her as she proceeded. Her hair which had previously been held tidily in place by the crocodile claw had now started to come loose and strands of it were hanging down in all sorts of places. This did not seem to deter her as she carried on regardless, making little 'um,um' sounds as she went, until finally, Peter felt his cock tense and he shot forth a load down the back of her throat. She swallowed it greedily, trying desperately and eventually successfully not to let any spill onto the bed sheet or her clothes.

Her hair was now a right mess and most of it had worked loose from the hair claw. When she had finished, and licked his prick clean, she pulled the claw from her hair and shook her head, letting it cascade sexily round her shoulders. This was the second time in two days that Peter had seen her with her hair down and he felt his cock stiffen once more. He pushed her back onto the pillow so that she lay with her hair splayed out around her and her knees slightly in the air. He came down across her and started kissing her once more, his arms round her shoulder blades, hers around his. His tongue darted between her lips and she repeated his actions. He brought his right hand down between her knees and pulled the front of her skirt up slightly. His hand disappeared into the gloom working its way up her nylon clad legs until he felt the damp in her crotch. He was slightly disappointed to find she was wearing tights, but she was clearly very excited as the dampness had seeped through her knickers onto the dark nylon.

He brought his hand back out and broke free from their tonging. He held her shoulders gently with both hands and kissed her delicately on the lips before moving himself astride her prostrate body. He started to unfasten the buttons on the front of her cardigan until they were all undone, then followed immediately with those on her blouse. She lay back with her head on the pillow looking up at him expectantly as he did so and sat up briefly to allow him to slide each article off her shoulders and down her arms and away, only pausing to unfasten the buttons at the end of the blouse sleeves. He placed them on the end of the bed behind him and turned back to marvel at the white silky slip she wore underneath, with its slender straps resting on her shoulders adjacent to those of the skimpy mauve bra which it covered. She lay back on the pillow and arched her back slightly to allow him to put his hands behind the waistband of her skirt and unfasten the little button and slide the zip down. Slowly he pulled it away from her body, and it slid over the rest of the shiny material beneath. She lay back and bent her knees double to allow him to do so and once clear of her feet, he reached behind to place it with her other clothes.

Her dark tights could clearly be seen stretching up under it to her crotch and Peter pushed the hem of the slip up a little way. Taking hold of the waistband, he pulled them down over her legs and round her ankles until they were clear of her feet and she maintained her laid back, knees bent position while he did so.

"Interesting colour combination!" he said, eyeing the items still adorning her body. Her tights had revealed a pair of crimson red tight panties that rubbed across her pussy lips, one of which could just be seen peeking out from the crotch. "Did you get dressed in the dark?"

"Cheeky so-and-so!" said Josie with a grin. "I just pulled out the first thing to hand. If I had known that I was going to be entertaining, I would have hunted around for a matching set."

Peter laughed. He caught hold of the panties and pulled them down over her knees to her ankles and tossed them on the ever growing pile of clothes. Her dark neatly trimmed pussy awaited him, with her partly opened lips beckoning him forward. He spread her legs wide enough apart to position his head against it with her knees slightly in the air. Kneeling before her, he positioned his fingers against the lips and inserted a finger. She was dripping wet so he put his tongue inside her and started licking. 

Josie lay back on the bed; her eyes closed moaning with ecstasy. As Peter licked and slurped his way inside her, her hands were resting on her breasts and she was rubbing them over her slip and bra. She managed to pull the front of the slip down a little and squeeze her tits out above the bra and started massaging each one until they were bullet hard. Every so often, she would let out a little gasp as his tongue made contact with her clit and this only managed to make her even wetter. Of all the conquests Peter had had that week, she was the quietest. There was no shouting or swearing, no thrashing about, just the little gasps and a few 'oohs and aahs' until she erupted with a big sigh out onto the sheet. 

Peter lifted his head up and looked up at her. She was still lying back with her eyes closed fingering her tits. He unfastened his jeans and slipped them off, followed by his boxers and slid up over her body. He pulled the straps of her slip down her arms and managed to release them from it, then reached behind and unfastened her bra and removed it as well. Her breasts were cone shaped and quite small with the small teats positioned exactly on the ends. He put his tongue down onto the right one and started licking it and sucking it alternately before repeating the exercise with the left one. His cock was now huge and Josie could feel it pressing up against her upper leg. Peter eased himself up and guided it towards her waiting pussy and into the chasm beyond. She gasped as she felt all seven inches bury itself inside her. In his usual steady style, he began thrusting in and out of her.




The Organist Entertains Ch. 05



So exact and steady were his poundings that you could almost imagine him counting musical time in his head. 'One, two, one, two, in, out, in, out.' His balls slammed against her groin as he did so and the little gasps continued, her body moving in time with his. As before, she was still much quieter than everyone who had gone before. It was almost as though there was a reverential respect for those in eternal slumber downstairs. Gradually though, Peter could feel his cock tensing once more , then a final twitch and a great sigh as he filled up Josie's throbbing cavern, seconds after she too had spilled forth her own juices once more.

He lifted himself off of her and rolled over, landing on top of his jeans, and let out an agonising yell that was almost loud enough to waken the dead.

"What's the matter," said Josie sitting up and looking alarmed.

"I've just sat on my bloody belt buckle and it's digging in my arse!" said Peter, rubbing cheek of his right buttock. Josie burst out laughing.

"Let me rub it better for you," she said, leaning over him. Her slip had squashed up to around a three inch bulge around her navel and she pulled it off over her head. Her tits rubbed against Peter's chest as she tried to see what damage there was. "I can't see anything," she said. "You're making a lot of fuss over nothing."

"It's alright for you," said Peter, "You've not just been stabbed in a delicate place by the pin of your belt buckle."

"Well let me take your mind off the pain," she said, pushing him back on the bed again. Peter lay back, taking great care to avoid the offending article. His cock had depleted rapidly with all the pain, but her breasts rubbing against him had brought it straight back to life again. She took it in her hand and gently ran her hands up its shaft until it was completely hard once more.

Peter was now lying back with his head on the pillow and Josie knelt over him, her knees either side of his prostrate body and level with his hips. She positioned herself so that her cunt lips were above the tip of his throbbing cock and lowered herself down onto it until she it was fully encased then she started humping up and down. Her hands gripped his waist and her hair splayed around in front of her face as she did so and every now and then she would pause briefly and push it back behind her shoulders, only for it to immediately fall back again when she restarted. Her tits were jigging up and down and she was emitting the quiet little gasps as she had previously each time the bulbous tip of his cock hit the back of her cervix. She could feel her juices building as she banged away until with a loud sigh and she released her secretions out onto the bed sheet as he shot forth another dose of hot spunk inside her.

She lifted herself off of him and collapsed exhausted on top of him and they lay there together locked in embrace, with him gently stroking her hair and kissing her on the lips and she responding by kissing him back and stroking his now flaccid cock with her left hand.

Their amorous liaisons were brought to a premature end by the sound of the shrill ring of the doorbell. Josie jumped out of bed and ran to the window. She tweaked the curtain discreetly.

"Who is it?" said Peter coming to stand behind her.

"I don't know," she said. "There's a small white van down here with writing on the side but I can't read what's it says as it's too close to the house. I think it's a lady ringing."

Peter pulled the curtain back a bit further just as the person stepped back and looked up towards where they were peering out from. Her hand went up as if to wave, then noticing Josie's loose hair round her shoulders, her naked boobs and Peter's bare chest, it went to her mouth in surprise.

"It's Deborah Radcliffe," he said. "I thought I recognised the van. What could she want, I wonder?"

"I don't know," said Josie. "She can't have a wreath for anyone as we don't have a funeral now until Sid's on Tuesday. I'd better get dressed and go and see. I hope that nothing's happened to her mum."

Deborah was a fellow member of Peter's choir and was responsible for ensuring that the younger members were all kitted out and ready for the start of the service. She was the same age as Peter, an only child, who lived with her mother who was now in her early eighties. She had a part time job working for a company called 'Fleur's Flowers' and it was their van which Peter had recognised. Josie gesticulated down to her that she would be down in a few minutes and reached for her clothes.

Peter was surprised at the speed in which she dressed. She soon pulled her panties and tights back on and slipped her bra back on and fastened it at the same time as she slipped her feet back into her shoes. He watched as she folded her slip and slipped her arms through its straps, letting it ripple down over her slender body. She quickly smoothed it down before pulling on her blouse and buttoning it up and stepping into her skirt and fastening it. She pulled her hair back and fastened it up again with the familiar tortoiseshell claw and reached for her cardigan which she pulled on and fastened as she walked out of the bedroom door and down the stairs.

Peter quickly dressed himself. He looked at the bed with its rumpled and stained sheet and wondered what to do about it He decided to leave it and followed Josie down the stairs reaching the bottom just as she opened the door. Deborah was at the back door of her van. She had her 'uniform' on, a green and white striped tabard over her normal clothes, a white jumper and black skirt. She pulled out a large wreath of pink and white carnations.

"Hi," she said, looking a bit surprised to see Josie looking completely different to how she had been at the window a few minutes before. "I've brought this for Gladys Owen's funeral this afternoon. If you could just sign my docket please." She handed Josie a clipboard with her docket sheet on it. "I...er...hope I didn't...er...interrupt anything," she added.

"No, it's fine," said Josie as a matter of fact. "We had finished anyway. I think you've got the wrong address; we haven't got a Gladys Owen here. I think you want Richardson's?" She pointed to the name printed at the top of the docket. Deborah looked it in surprise.

"Well, I wonder what on earth made me think it was Stanlake's," she said shaking her head. "I can be so scatty sometimes! Oh, hello Peter," she said, spotting him in the hallway.

Peter nodded.

"Is your dad not around," said Deborah to Josie, peering into the hallway beyond.

"No, he's out laying Sheila Ryder to rest," said Josie, "He'll be back in about twenty minutes."

"Oh, right!" said Deborah in a knowing voice.

"Well, I've got work to do," said Josie, tactfully trying to get Deborah to leave. She was mindful that the bed upstairs needed changing and remaking to cover up what she had been doing with Peter. "And you'll need to get that to Richardson's, won't you?"

"Oh, yes," said Deborah. "They're leaving at two. I'd better go. Bye Josie, Bye Peter, see you at practice tomorrow." She put the wreath back into the van and got in the driving seat. 

"Dopey cow!" said Josie as she drove off. "Fancy getting the wrong address! It's a good job it wasn't a private house. Can you imagine the shock it could give someone?" Peter chuckled.

"She's not that bad," he said. "You don't know her like I do. She's very good with the little ones. What are you going to do about the bed?"

"I'll change it and put the sheet in the wash," she said. "I'll tell dad I noticed it needed washing. He'll never know what we've been up to."

"Well, I'll get back to the garden," said Peter. "It's stopped raining now." 

He was trimming the hedge when he heard the quiet purr of a car engine turn into the driveway. It was the empty hearse with just the driver and David in the passenger seat. David got out and opened the gate leading to the garage yard. The hearse drove through and David closed the gate behind it. He came over and spoke to Peter.

"How's it going?" he said, his jovial tone present once more. "You haven't been out here in all that horrible drizzle, have you? We got quite wet going into the church."

"No," said Peter. "I was going to pack up and go home and come back in the morning, but Josie invited me in for a drink and gave me a tour of the premises. It's a nice place that you've got here."

"Did she show you upstairs?" said David winking. "She always does, you know. She likes to give people a thorough tour."

"Yes," said Peter. He had an idea David knew what had happened. Perhaps Josie had done this before with visitors.

"I'll say one thing about her," said David. "She always keeps it clean and tidy. There are always fresh, clean sheets on the bed for whoever is on call. She'll make a good housewife when she's married."

Peter nodded and carried on clipping the hedge.

"What say we go for a pint in The Plough," said David. "I'll just go and change my jacket and see what Miss Josephine is up to, and then I'll join you. I guess you'll be in need of a drink after all your hard endeavours."

Peter nodded. He watched as David strode away towards the office. His throat felt quite dry after his chat with him.

"You never said a truer word, David," he said to himself as David went inside. "You never said a truer word!"



The Organist Entertains Ch. 01



Peter had a boner himself now at the sight of the vicar in her black slip and stockings. He put his arms round her and started kissing her again, rubbing his hands over the soft, slippery material. "Is this, um, normal attire under your normal Sunday skirts?" He asked, coming up for air again.

"It might be!" said Maxine, teasingly. "Come on, let's go upstairs."

They went up into Maxine's bedroom. Peter had expected it to be filled with holy pictures and perhaps a bible or two, but there were none. Pink sheets and a pink duvet cover adorned the bed and Maxine pulled them back. Pink curtains were at the windows at which full length net curtains also hung. A small cuddly teddy bear sat on the dressing table. Even the walls were pink. It was a typical girly bedroom. Peter could hear a car outside and went and looked cautiously out of the window. It was Abigail and her mum driving out of the church car park opposite. They had paused to speak to someone they knew. Maxine came and stood behind him. She brought her arms around his waist and began unfastening his trouser belt, then his zip and finally his trouser fastener. His trousers dropped to his ankles, leaving him in a pair of red tartan boxer shorts. She giggled at the sight of them as she bent down and helped him off with his shoes and socks before lifting each leg in turn to remove the trousers. Peter was still watching Abigail's mum as his boxers were pulled down and removed in the same way, his cock springing upright ahead of him. He could feel Maxine behind him, her slip rustling against his naked lower body. She started massaging his cock as she watched with him until the car drove away up the street. Peter couldn't help but wonder what they would think if they knew that he, a respected choirmaster, was in the vicar's bedroom with them both in their underwear. Oh, the shame!

That thought soon evaporated as a speck of precum appeared on the end of his cock. Maxine stooped to lick it off and he had an uninterrupted view down her slip to her bra and tits inside. The thought of what was to come made him even harder and soon Maxine had kicked off her shoes and was on her knees in front of him with his cock full in her mouth once more. Peter held the back of her head close to him as she alternated sucking and stroking his cock, feeling his balls until they were rigid, licking off the small globules of precum each time they appeared until with a final twitch and a huge sigh he shot a jet of hot milky spunk down her throat. She swallowed it readily and licked the excesses including some that was now trickling down his leg. She stood up and he pulled her to his body once more, kissing her and fondling her readily, and she was trying to retaliate by unfastening the buttons down the front of his shirt. Thankfully it was only a short sleeved one and eventually she got then undone and pulled it from his body.

Peter was now totally naked. His cock had receded slightly although the softness of Maxine's slip rubbing against him soon brought it springing back to life. Once more drops of precum formed at its tip and caught themselves on the front leaving small white stains. He pushed her back towards the bed and pulled its straps from her shoulders before letting it drop lifeless to her ankles. Maxine stepped out of it, leaving it where it lay. A pair of black lacy boy shorts and an equally lacy matching bra adorned her body together with the black hold-ups. Peter let out a low whistle. 

"I take it that you approve?" said Maxine.

"Oh yes. Most certainly," said Peter in awe. "But I never expected anything as exquisite as this!"

"So what did you expect?" said Maxine. "Bridget Jones style, perhaps?"

Peter laughed. He'd seen her bra and panties the day before but they were just plain and white. These were something else.

"I guess I didn't realise that vicars could wear sexy undies," he said.

"And I didn't expect choir masters to wear red tartan boxer shorts!" countered Maxine.

"What did you expect?" said Peter. "White Y-Fronts and a matching vest?"

He smiled at her and she smiled back, shrugging her shoulders at this remark. Her bosom heaved as she did this causing her tits to gently ripple under the material. He paused for a moment then reached behind and soon had her bra unfastened. He lowered the straps from her shoulders, gently cupping her breasts as he did so. Her breasts were small but quite perky, the nipples already hard and bullet shaped. His fingers moved to the waistband of her boy shorts and slowly he eased them down past her stocking tops to her knees where gravity took over. 

"Oh, Max," he whispered, ogling her almost naked body.

He stood back for a moment taking in the sight before him. Her brown eyes were filled with expectation, her hair resting gently on her shoulders, her tits with their perfectly round pink areolas, her navel and the mass of natural pussy hairs covering the gateway to heaven. His cock was rising again at the sight before him as he pushed her gently back towards the waiting bed and sat her on it. He knelt briefly and rolled each hold-up down her legs and off in turn, savouring the smell of her femininity. Now they were both totally naked in front of their maker. Maxine slid her legs onto the bed and lay back with her head on the pillow, her hair spread out either side. She closed her eyes and prayed in silence.

"For what I am about to receive, may I be truly thankful." 

Peter joined her on the bed and began sucking her tits in turn. They were already hard. His right hand tickled her on the tummy just below her navel stimulating her to moan slightly before travelling south into the dense forest nearby. Her pussy lips were already moist and he inserted two of his fingers within, feeling around for a few seconds until he found her clit. The smallest of touches brought a little yelp and a gasp followed by a rush of wetness to his fingers, and so the exercise was repeated with similar results. Each time, the wetness increased and the yelps got slightly louder. Her breasts were rising and falling steadily as her gasps increased until with one loud gasp, she orgasmed out onto the sheet. 

Peter allowed her a few minutes to catch her breath then spread her legs apart with her knees in the air and her feet flat on the bed. He knelt before the parted lips and this time started licking first the blobs of cum that were still evident, then deeper inside, stimulating her once more. Again she yelped and gasped as his tongue brushed against her clit and her breasts rose and fell steadily. 

"Oh God," she gasped, "Ohhhh, don't stop."

Her head was writhing on the pillow until with one final yell he brought her to her second orgasm. She lay back on the pillow and Peter joined her. They lay together in each other's arms for a while alternating with him stroking her hair and kissing her tits and upper body passionately and her stroking the hairs on his chest and massaging his now flaccid cock. With a bit of persuasion, it soon became hard again and he mounted her and nestled the tip against her waiting cunt lips. Gently he inserted it until his shaft was fully within and then started thrusting. She wrapped her legs around his back and he held her tightly against him, her breasts banging against his chest in unison with his actions. He could feel her juices reacting as his cock forced its way in and out.

"Oh God," she gasped. "This is heaven. Don't stop for heaven's sake! Oh, fucking hell!"

"Language vicar!" said Peter banging away. "If your parishioners heard you swearing like that they'd be disgusted."

"If my parishioners could see me doing this, they'd probably be disgusted," said Maxine breathlessly jerking her body in unison. "Oh God, I think this is it...Oh...OH!" With that she climaxed as Peter shot forth another stream of semen deep inside her. 

The excesses of his endeavours trickled back out onto the pink sheets and made a small damp patch. Neither of them seemed to notice as they were too busy kissing and cuddling each other, still locked together with Peter's cock still wedged within her chasm. Eventually they broke free.

"I could do with a drink after all that," said Maxine, sitting up. "I've got a bottle of white wine in the fridge. Would you like a glass?"

"I could think of nothing better," said Peter fingering her wet pussy. "A glass of wine and a beautiful woman. What more could a man want?" 

Maxine brushed his advances aside and slid off the bed. She picked up her underclothes from the floor and placed them on a stool in front of the dressing table. Peter slid off after her. He picked up the black slip.

"Here, put this on," he said handing it to her. "You looked great in it before."

Maxine complied and pulled it over her head. She put her arms through the thin ribbon straps and let it ripple over her body accentuating her curves. He kissed her gently on the lips and felt his cock twitch as it came into contact with the soft silky material once more. She walked barefoot from the room and he lay back on the bed with one hand behind his head and the other slowly stroking his receding cock.

Maxine went downstairs into the kitchen. She soon found the wine and was busy hunting in the cupboard for some glasses when the doorbell rang. The vicarage had two outer doors, one which led directly to her study, which was also accessible from the house. This was only used by people who had pre-booked appointments for church services or by occasional people seeking help and guidance. The other was the house door which was used for personal visits. It made her jump for it was someone at the house door. She peered through the spy hole and recognised the person standing the other side as Trish Thorndike who had been serving the teas and coffees in the parish hall a few hours earlier. She opened the door slightly, trying to hide her near nakedness as much as possible.

"Oh, hello Trish, what can I do for you?" she said.

"I'm sorry to bother you," said Trish, "But Abigail thinks she's left her mobile phone in the parish hall kitchen earlier. I've been round to Fred's to see if I can borrow the keys, but he's out. I wonder if you could let me borrow yours. You know what teenagers are like. They feel undressed without their mobiles."

That last phrase was rather appropriate in the circumstances as Trish then noticed Maxine's state of attire.

"Sorry," she said, "I didn't realise you were...um..."

"...Undressed," said Maxine. "It's not a problem; I was on my way for a shower when you rang. Come in for a moment and I'll get them for you."

She opened the door wider and Trish walked through into the hallway. She watched as Maxine disappeared into the lounge reappearing a few moments later with her bunch of keys. She selected the appropriate one and handed it to Trish.

"I'll leave the door ajar", she said. "Just drop them back when you've finished please."

Trish nodded and walked out and across to the hall. Meanwhile upstairs, Peter was wondering where Maxine had got to. He hadn't heard the doorbell and decided to go and look for her and wandered out of the bedroom onto the landing.

"Max, is everything alright?" He called downstairs.

Maxine didn't hear him; she was still searching for a couple of glasses so he started walking along the landing and down the stairs. He had just reached the bottom when Trish returned. She knocked briefly on the front door and pushed it open coming face to face with Peter in his birthday suit.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed and dropped the bunch of keys on the carpet. 

The sound of the keys hitting the floor brought Maxine back into the hallway. She had now found some glasses. She stopped dead when she saw Trish and Peter. 

Poor Peter, he didn't know what to do. It was no good trying to hide his meat and two veg, and besides he already had a partial hard on from his actions on the bed while Maxine was away. Trish stood there gaping like a fish in a goldfish bowl, not knowing what to say or do, so it was up to Maxine to take control of the situation. She put the bottle of wine and the glasses on a nearby table and stooped to pick up the bunch of keys, taking care that Trish didn't notice that she wasn't wearing her bra or knickers.

"Sorry about this," she said. "I asked Peter round after the service to discuss the music for the next few weeks and we got a little carried away."

"It's fine," said Trish. She couldn't take her eyes of Peter's appendage and didn't notice that the slip was the only item of clothing her vicar was wearing. "I'd better be going. Abigail will be wondering where I am."

Peter in turn couldn't take his eyes off Trish. She was a divorcee who was in her early forties, short and with short curly blond hair. She was dressed in a thin blue dress and a black jacket. As she walked out of the door, a shaft of sunlight illuminated her lower dress showing the outline of another lacy slip hem against her legs. This made Peter even harder.

They said their goodbyes and Maxine closed the door behind her. They went into the study and watched as she got into her car and drove off.

"I hope she's alright," said Maxine. "It must have been a hell of a shock seeing us both like this, especially you. I hope she won't tell anyone. I'd better call round tomorrow and apologise properly." 

"I don't think she will," said Peter. "I've known her long before Abigail joined the choir and she's a decent sort. She doesn't spread gossip around. Anyway, never mind her; I've worked up a thirst."

"Oh, the wine. I'd forgotten," said Maxine. "I'll get the glasses." She walked towards the table and picked up the bottle and glasses and headed towards the study.

"No," said Peter, slapping her on the bottom, "Let's drink it upstairs."

Maxine squealed and ran up the stairs ahead of him into the bedroom and sat on the bed. She handed him the bottle which was one with a cheap twist top instead of a cork and Peter soon had it open. He poured them both a glass and they sat on the bed sipping it. They chatted together for a while until their glasses were empty, giving each other the occasional kiss.

Peter's cock was now limp once more and Maxine decided that it needed revitalising. She knelt over him and started kissing and massaging it once more. It soon became erect and she climbed over him and pushed him back on the bed. She positioned her pussy directly over his erect penis and lowered herself down on to it. She started humping up and down, her hair was flailing all over the place, the little cross round her neck was vibrating madly and her unfettered tits were bouncing up and down under her slip . The little yelps were back on each downward thrust as her cervix hit the tip of his cock and her gasps became more intense until with one big yell, she let forth yet another massive orgasm, the excess juices saturating front of the material.

Exhausted, she climbed off and collapsed into Peter's arms. His cock was now red and aching from the intense action it had received and they lay there for some time, him caressing her hair and kissing her gently, and her stroking the hairs on his manly chest. The sound of the church clock striking four o'clock brought them to their senses.

"Gosh," said Maxine, looking at her watch. "Is that the time?"

"Yes," said Peter checking his. "We've been at it on and off for the last three and a half hours. We've missed lunch you know."

"Well," said Maxine, "I did promise you a special starter! Go and have a shower and freshen up," she said. "I'll go and prepare something." She gave him a large bath towel.

Peter went and showered. When he had dried himself and got dressed, he came down into the lounge. Maxine had prepared a salad. She was still wearing the black slip.

"I've done a salad, I hope that's alright," she said. "I'm going to have a quick shower now. There's a quiche in the oven and some new potatoes in a pan on the hob. Can you switch them off when the clock goes off please? There's about ten minutes left."

Peter nodded and she disappeared upstairs. He switched off the oven when the clock sounded and sat waiting for her to return. When she did, she had on a plain red skirt and a white t-shirt, through which he could see the outline of her plain white bra. She obviously saved the exotic items for special occasions, he mused.

They sat and ate their meal, discussing their plans for the next day. Maxine thought it would be a good idea if they kept their relationship as secret as possible for the time being. She now had a visit arranged to visit Agnes Carter to plan the funeral for her brother Sid, which she asked Peter to attend to discuss the music, and she also planned to call on Trish Thorndike to apologise for the embarrassment she may have caused during her visit and to set the record straight. After all, she was the incumbent now for St Leonards' parish and as such was public property for her parishioners.

The meal over, Peter helped her with the washing up, and then made his excuses to leave. His cock was still sore from the earlier exertions and he was feeling a little tired himself. In any case, he had to collect his two grown up children from the station the following afternoon as they were coming to stay for the summer holidays so he knew that any liaisons between Maxine and him would be few and far between.

When he came to leave, he put his arms around Maxine's waist and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

"Thanks Max, it's been great," he said running his fingers through her hair. She kissed him back again.

"I've enjoyed it too," she said, "But like I said, we mustn't make a habit of it. I know we're both eligible with me being unmarried and you being a widower but things like this can get noticed higher up. I don't want the bishop ringing me up or moving me on. I like it here, and not just because of you!"

She opened the door and Peter stepped outside. He looked around furtively in case anyone was watching, but could see nobody. He waved and turned and strode purposely down the street to his house.

Back at the vicarage, Maxine closed the door and walked into her study. A smile played across her lips. 

"Yes," she said to herself, "I like it here. I really do like it here!"