Hope you enjoy. This is a story from my days as thefabvicar. As always all comments are welcome good or not so god.
It was a summer evening and even though the sun had passed its zenith several hours before, it was still warm.
It should not have been a particularly busy day, yet I had not seemed to have a moment to myself. In between a school assembly, visiting a community group for lunch and helping at the library, because staff were on holiday, my day had been full, rewarding and enjoyable.
I had also stopped and chatted with people I knew and time had passed quickly, without me really noticing.
Walking home in the last hours of the days heat, I saw those who were making the best of the evening, as they cast their long shadows onto the ground below.
I passed a busy beer garden, hearing patrons laughing at shared jokes and seeing them guarding their drinks from lazily flying insects whilst sitting underneath giant colourful umbrellas.
Cars passed me by, creating clouds of dust on the dull black and scorched roads. Music booming through open windows, as drivers rested arms or tapped beats out on shiny doors.
Children with loud voices and boundless energy, were running around, riding bikes, playing with footballs or sitting on walls enjoying the chance to experience the little bit of freedom between school and bedtime.
Others, like myself, were enjoying a walk, unburdened of coats or umbrellas or cares it seemed.
Passing the churchyard I smiled, as I saw and exchanged a nod with a young couple I knew, as they held hands and looked to be very much in love.
It truly was a blessing to hear and see people enjoying creation.
As I entered the Vicarage the relief was welcomed. All day I had felt the heat, the darkness of my clergy shirt collecting and storing it, and all I wanted, was a cooling shower. The pleasure of removing the sweat and dirt from my body, was one temptation I need not resist.
I showered, put on a complete fresh outfit, minus my collar. Made a cup of tea and went into the study. I switched on the television, and sitting in my favorite reclining leather armchair, began to watch the six o’clock news. I must have fallen asleep, as I was woken by a knock at the door.
It took effort to rouse myself and rise from the chair. I felt chilled and took a moment to stretch my tired muscles. My mouth felt dry, so I took a sip of the sweet tea, and winced at its coldness, before moving towards the door as my caller knocked again.
“Coming” I shouted gently as I could.
Moments later, I switched on the hallway light against the gloom that had enveloped the house and opened the door.
Opening the door, a familiar stranger stood on the porch. I had the feeling that I knew her, but couldn’t place her.
She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, and had straight ginger hair that was almost orange. Her parting was off to one side of her head, and the hair ran all the way over it, down the side of her face to the opposite shoulder. As she looked up, the hair moved and made me think of sand being washed by the sea.
Her shining green, oval shaped eyes seemed overly large and were accentuated by the darkness of their lashes. They were eyes you could fall into. Deep, inviting but I suspected that if you entered them, you might drown in a whole heap of sadness.
I was immediately attracted to her, and had to force myself to not stare. Maybe that’s why I felt a familiarity?
Her complexion was pale, her lips crimson and naturally full, almost puffy. They were formed into a friendly smile that I also read as “cheeky”. She stood a couple of inches shorter than myself, maybe 5”7 and had an average build, probably a size 14 or a 16.
Wearing a smart, dark knee length skirt and off white blouse, I had the impression she was dressed for the office, but chose her clothes carefully.
The clothes showed off her perfectly natural figure beautifully. The first few buttons of the blouse were open, and her chest had a little red tinge to it, that contrasted with the small gold crucifix, she wore on a delicate gold chain, that sat atop a pale silky camisole vest.
To say I was infatuated would have been true. If I believed in love at first sight, then the Cherubs were blowing their horns, whilst cupid was firing arrow after arrow into my cynical and lustful heart.
I had seen and registered all of this information in seconds, and I still remember it all of these years later.
It was another few seconds before I took breath and realised who she was.
“Joanne?” I stammered.
“Yes Father, you asked if I would stop by?”
My mind began to clear, and as the reason I had asked to see Joanne came to me, I began to feel colder still.
“Yes, of course. Please come in”
Joanne’s auntie, who was also her adoptive mother, had caught me earlier in the day. She was a lady who I did not know well. Neither her or Joanne attended church, in fact I had not met Joanne at all, I would have remembered. The aunt and I did cross paths at some community events and I had been surprised when she had asked if we could have a private word?
The Aunt had never married and explained that she had taken Joanne in to her care, eventually adopting her and although Joanne was now an adult, they still lived together.
The aunt had said, she was concerned that Joanne was gaining a reputation amongst members of the congregation, for being, in her words. “Too loose and easy”. Truth be told I wasn’t surprised; the aunt had the same reputation. She asked, if I would have a word with her niece? And I had said yes.
I had put the conversation to the back of my mind wanting time to find out a little more and consider how I would approach this meeting, but the aunt had obviously told the girl to come by straight away, and now she was here, and I was a little lost.
I let her pass, closed the door and walked in to the study, trusting Joanne would follow. Once in the study, the curtains were open so I drew them, before switching on two standard lamps to provide us with both privacy and good light.
“Please sit” I pointed to the small sofa. “Would you like a drink? Coffee, Tea?”
“No, thank you vicar.”
I sat in my chair, opposite my visitor. I leaned forward, as close to her as I could without being too close, wanting to keep my voice low, and decided that to be honest and blunt would be the best way.
“Joanne, I really don’t know how to say this, so I will just say it. Your Aunt is concerned about you.”
The girl looked very serious. “Okay?”
“The thing is” I was trying to choose my words carefully. “The thing is that it has been brought to my attention that you are, well, maybe, a little too friendly, with some of the men of the parish”
I waited for her to react. She began to smile a slightly nervous smile, but no more.
I continued “It seems, that you are flirting with some of the more mature men of the parish, and there are, concerns, from some of their wives.”
She still sat in silence, her expression not changing at all. I tried again.
“Do you know where these rumours are coming from?”
She leaned forwards, placed her elbows on her knees, and looked me directly in the eyes.
“Oh, they are not rumours, Vicar” she said “I do flirt, I like flirting, I’m good at flirting”
I was confused, maybe a little shocked. I might have expected embarrassment, anger, maybe I thought she might be defensive, or deny that the rumours were true, but she was very matter of fact in her confirmation of them.
I asked “You like to flirt?”
“Oh yes, Vicar, very much”
“And who do you flirt with?”
She moved her gaze up to the ceiling as though she was trying hard to think.
“Well, I don’t really know, I mean most of the men really. They all look at me in a certain way. I suppose I began to notice a few years ago when I got these tits”
She put her hands under her breasts and lifted them squeezing them together. This beautiful, angelic looking girl, holding her breasts for me to examine. I wanted to laugh, it seemed so absurd. I stared at them for several seconds and felt a wave of lust, and then a deep sense of shame. I leaned back in my chair and forced myself to look away as she explained further.
“You see Vicar? You have just moved away and tried not to look, but most men, they look at me, and ask if they can see more”
She let go of her breasts, I cleared my throat.
“They ask to see more?”
“Yes”
“Then what, do you do?”
“I show them my tits”
She leaned further forward, pulled her blouse and the pale vest away from her body, momentarily catching the crucifix, and exposed her chest. The redness on her breastbone gave way to the pale mounds of her breasts as she leaned forward and laughed.
Again, I forced myself to elsewhere, my eyes met hers, and her eyes were full of mischievous joy.
“Stop, please!” I demanded.
I knew that my face was flushed, I could feel the heat, and I still had the picture of her very ample breasts hanging inside her top and the merest glimpse of her nipple, in my minds eye.
The truth is I was aroused. I wanted to see her breasts, I wanted to touch them, kiss them, bite them, but I felt that if I did I would be committing a grave sin. Not against God, but against her and more importantly against myself.
I was uncomfortable and wanted the girl to leave, I almost couldn’t trust myself. I had taken no vows of chastity and was allowed to have sexual relations, but to do so, with this girl, here and now would surely lead to damnation. I was trusted to try and counsel and support her, not fuck her.
Taking a deep breath, trying to choose my words carefully, I explained.
“Joanne what you are doing is wrong” I saw her expression change, her gaze went to the floor and I thought she might cry.
“Please don’t cry, it isn’t evil, you are not a bad person, but you cannot show your body to married men, any men, its…..immoral”
“Immoral?” she asked weakly.
“Yes, you should respect the sanctity of marriage, as should the men who ask you to show them your body”
She became angry.
“The ones who call me a Slut? The ones who watch me, touch me and kiss me before going home to their wives?”
“They touch you and kiss you?”
The anger gone, she stared at the floor, and answered shamefully.
“Yes Vicar, and other things too”
I stayed silent, afraid to know more but certain she was going to tell me.
“Sometimes there is more than one at a time. I make them kiss me, sometimes I will tell them to finger me and some of them fuck me.”
She looked up and a smile came on to her face. The mischief was back in her eyes.
“You see, I make them fuck me Vicar. I like being fucked and used. I make them put their cocks inside me, and I like being told that I am a slut. I like to be used. I am a slut.”
Her voice was becoming louder, her words coming faster as though she was building to a crescendo.
“A filthy dirty slut. I like being a slut. I like married men and being a sinner. I like to think of them going home after they have fucked me, being with their wives and smelling of my pussy and arse”
She stopped and the silence was sudden and deafening. I was completely taken aback. She had gone from being sullen, quiet and meek to almost filling the room with her explanation of control. I had no idea what to say to her.
“You see Vicar” she continued in quieter tone “I have been sinning for years. I really do understand that adultery is wrong, but I am an instrument of God Father, can’t you see? It’s what the last vicar made me.”
I didn’t think I could be any more surprised or shocked but the mention of the previous vicar did.
“What?” I wasn’t sure I had heard or understood correctly. “The last Vicar?”
“Yes, when I was 19. The Vicar before you, Reverend Nick it was. Only he wasn’t so, particular. He didn’t tell me to stop. He took me upstairs, tied me up, said he was saving my soul, and fucked me” she began to sob. “He fucked me a lot Father. I used to come here all the time. He told me, that I was a slut, and, he said that there was a stain on my soul.”
She imitated a deep voice.
“And no amount of repentance.”
Returning to her own voice she continued.
“Was ever going to give me redemption” She sobbed harder. “I’m sorry Father, I did used to get upset, so father Nick used to pray over me, and the final time we fucked father, he prayed and something happened”
She stopped sobbing and wiped her eyes, her face brightened, her body changed, almost grew and she looked joyful.
“I felt something Father, something I had never felt before. As Reverend Nick was deep inside me, my whole body went into spasm, my pussy gushed”
She laughed, “Reverend Nick didn’t like that, he was angry and said he would have to wash the sheets” she giggled again “But my pussy Father. Oh, my pussy gushed, I couldn’t breathe and then I just? I don’t know Father. I just went somewhere else and it was beautiful.”
She breathed deeply and seemed completely relaxed, almost whimsical
“Reverend Nick, he said it was the Holy Spirit. Do you think it was the Holy Spirit Vicar?”
Did I think it was the Holy Spirit? No. I think it was an orgasm.
“I don’t know” was all I could say.
“That’s alright Vicar because it was. I serve it now father, and I enjoy what I do. I find every one of those adulterous bastards, and I make them break their vows, and when I do, I smile because God knows.”
I looked at her and she was preaching. Like a hell and damnation evangelical, passion, belief and vitriol packaged in a body that was now so animated, so full of life. It actually scared me. She seemed to truly believe what she was saying.
I was furious. This girl had been used and conditioned, by someone she should have been able to trust. A Vicar was responsible, had done this to her. A brother of my church and she had expected and wanted me to do the same.
I felt sick. I had wanted to. I had wanted to explore her body, feel myself inside her. I had wanted to touch her, smell her, taste her, fuck her and I had come so close.
Now I wanted to hold her but dare not. I wanted to tell her that I was sorry, and that it wasn’t true, but I couldn’t do anything.
“I think you had better leave” I said in a soft tone.
“You’re kicking me out?”
“I’m asking you to leave. I need to think, and I need to pray”
“Why?”
“Because I need guidance, and I need strength”
She sat back.
“Don’t be silly Vicar”.
She told me.
“You need to fuck is all”
Her hand went to the skirt she was wearing, she grabbed a clump of the material and began to lift the hem. I wanted to tell her to stop as her legs were revealed. She lifted the skirt slowly and seductively, knowing the effect she was having as firstly her knee, then her pale thighs were uncovered and opened to my view.
Joanne parted her knees and spread her legs as she pulled the skirt higher. As the hem reached her hips, lamplight filled the space between her thighs.
My willpower was waning. I should have stopped her, I should have looked away but couldn’t.
Her legs opened fully; and without knickers she exposed her thick pubic hair. A carpet of deep fiery orange surrounding a prominent clitoris and beautifully pink pussy lips.
“Stop it” I finally managed to say weakly, still not removing my gaze from her groin.
Joanne knew I didn’t mean what I said.
She held her skirt with one hand as the other made the short journey to the bright sun between her legs.
“You see Vicar” she said in a lower, slower and much more seductive voice
“All vicars like this, including you”
“Stop!”
I shouted the demand, still staring at her pussy.
“Cover yourself, you are acting like a whore!”
“A whore?” she questioned gently; her fingertip touching the flames of her pubic hair.
“A whore? Yes! I like that, Vicar. The Whore of Babylon” and she inserted the finger deep inside herself, and began to laugh mockingly.
As my blood began to freeze and heart exploded in my chest, the memory of the last time I heard that laugh, paralyzed me.
Hope you enjoyed it.
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Xxx
