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Jenna, the Vicar’s Wife: Part 3
Fellatio Rites for the Ghost of John Wesley
By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Jenna took a deep breath as she approached Oakwood Road Methodist Church.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Reverend Morris asked.
She patted his shoulder. "I'll be fine Simon. You don't need to
worry. It's the ghost of John Wesley, not Jack the Ripper. This is
exciting! I hope he'll appear!"
"Right, well, I'll be sat in the car then. I hope you won't be too
long. Remember, just turn and run the moment you feel in any way
uncomfortable."
"Reverend Morris, I think you're scared!"
"No I'm not! I can't help being concerned for the safety of the woman I love can I? Aren't you a tiny bit nervous?"
"I'm as cool as spring water," Jenna replied. "I was reading all
about John Wesley last night. He was a true gentleman. I'm sure this
won't take long."
Reverend Morris nodded as he watched his wife enter the church. "Well
if anyone can fix this, Jenna can. I don't know what she said to the
Archbishop of Canterbury last week, but he changed his mind about the
wall plaque faster than the Government does U-turns. I wonder what she
said to him? Whatever it was, Justin Welby was impressed!"
He reclined in his car seat. "I was so lucky to meet Jenna. Of
course, it was God who delivered her to me. That fateful Sunday morning
in the vestry, oh."
Father Aiden was walking along the street. Many things were on his
mind. He had some important decisions to make about his future in the
priesthood. Briefly glancing up from his smartphone, his heart jumped as
he spotted Jenna entering the Methodist church across the road.
"Holy Mother, " he muttered. A rush of excitement swept over him as
he recalled the intimate encounter he'd enjoyed a few weeks ago. It was
that which had spurred him to think about his future. He quickly crossed
the road.
"Hello Father!"
The priest almost dropped his phone. Someone was shouting at him from a parked car.
"Oh, Reverend Morris. Hello there." Damn, no chance of a repeat
encounter, he thought. "I've just seen your wife going into the
Methodist church."
"Yes, I hope she won't be long. I'm just waiting for her."
"Are you alright? You look a bit anxious, if you don't mind me saying."
"It's a long story, Father. I think you'd better sit down in the
passenger seat and I'll tell you. You've not heard about what's been
going on in Oakwood Road church have you?"
The priest looked confused. "Nope. Tell me more!" He opened the car door and sat down. I could do to unburden myself too."
"Okay, well, this might sound a bit weird."
"I can handle anything weird," Father Aiden replied.
"It's about ghosts. As a Catholic, what are your thoughts on them and have you ever seen one?"
Father Aiden thought about his answer very carefully. "Hmm. In
theory, billions of ghosts potentially exist because billions of human
beings have "lost" their bodies through death. Strictly speaking, these
disembodied souls are not ghosts because they have never become
discernible to any living people. Only those few souls whose presence is
seen or felt by others are truly ghosts. And their existence is real."
"So you've seen one?"
"Yes. Two actually. Once in Ireland when I was a child and another
when I was based in Liverpool. I was called upon to rid a family's home
of a troubled spirit."
Reverend Morris looked relieved. "That's good to know."
"The Old Testament also has a few ghost stories. The most famous one
is in 1 Samuel 28:8 thru 20. Here the inspired writer tells how King Saul
met with the ghost of the prophet Samuel." Father Aiden replied. "Have
you seen a ghost?"
"Yes. And not just any ghost, but the ghost of John Wesley! He's
haunting the Methodist church. That's why I'm here. Jenna's gone in
there to try and help him return to, the other side."
"Oh I see, then she must, wait, what?" Father Aiden did a double take.
"Thanks for coming' along Mrs. Morris," Reverend Ewing said, shaking
Jenna's hand. "I know you probably think this whole thing is crazy."
"Not at all! And call me Jenna. I'm a true believer. If my husband
says that you and he saw John Wesley, then I know it's true. But why
does John want to see me of all people?"
"Your hubby mentioned that your grandma is a Methodist?"
"Uh yeah. Bit of a tenuous link. Like Sir Henry Barrington-Smythe's horse."
"Huh?"
"Oh, never mind. Figure of speech."
"You Brits and your little quirks!" Reverend Ewing laughed. "I'm still getting used to 'em!"
"You said John usually appears in the vestry?"
"Uh-huh. Can be anywhere in the church, but he seems to like the vestry best."
"Right, well go and wait in there and say a few prayers, and see if
he appears. I'm not sure I can do anything, but I'll try my best."
Jenna entered the vestry. Everything looked perfectly normal in there. She closed the door and looked around.
"It always comes back to the vestry," she smiled to herself as she recalled when she first got to know Reverend Morris.
Suddenly, the row of gowns on the rail began to swing on their hangers. The temperature dropped, and Jenna rubbed her arms.
"Are you there, John?" She called out.
"Yes."
She spun round. There was no sign of the spirit. "Hey, come on, show
yourself at least. It's no fun talking to the invisible man."
"My sincere apologies," John replied, and slowly faded into view. For
the first time, Jenna was taken aback. "My God, you really are John
Wesley, "
He nodded and bowed. "Bless ye, for am so honored you hath come here.
If I may be so bold to say, you be a lady of great beauty my dear."
"Very kind of you to say, Mr. Wesley." Jenna said. "Why are you back in the land of the living? Aren't you happy in Heaven?"
"Ah yes," he began. "Happier than mortals can ever imagine. But you
see, I feel compelled to return to this realm every All Hallow's Eve. I
like to re-visit the places where I worshipped back when I was alive.
And it was in this very place where this church now stands that I
preached to crowds back in the autumn of 1778."
"You've got a lot of places to visit in just one night," Jenna said.
"I read all about you. You traveled all over England spreading the Word
of the Lord. Plus you went to America, the colonies, when you were
younger."
"Indeed I did, yes. To my regret, I lingered a little too long here,
for I found myself unable to return to the afterlife. The sun had
started to rise, heralding All Saint's Day. Thus, I am trapped here in
this church until next All Hallow's Eve. Only a tremendous release of
positive energy could allow me to return before then."
"Oh dear. May I ask why out of all the people in the world, you
wanted to see me? What can I do? My gran is a Methodist. Is that the
reason?"
"No Miss Jenna. It was your aura that attracted me. It's very strong.
I believe God himself must've embodied you with some sort of innate
goodness that allows you to help people."
"You're making me sound like some kind of saint! I assure you I'm
just a regular human being. I'm not particularly gifted in anything,
although I do try to be a good person, "
John had a rather dreamy expression on his face. "You remind me so
much of Grace Murray, a lady I loved and lost, only you be far prettier
than her."
It was then that Jenna had an idea. A huge grin spread across her
face. She'd read all about John Wesley's life and how unlucky he'd been
in love. "A tremendous release of positive energy, you say? I think I
know something which may cause that!"
John put his hands together. "You do? Pray, do tell, my dear."
"You need to experience an orgasm. What could be more positive than that?"
He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh you know, " She tried to think of a period-appropriate phrase so he'd understand. "The end act of carnal relations?"
He blushed. "Oh. Miss Jenna I be a man of God. I don't see how, "
Jenna sank to her knees. "Only one way to find out, John!" She
paused. So he's a ghost. I've never pleasured a ghost before. Isn't he
composed of just gas? He's quite cute, for someone who died in 1791! I
wonder if,
She reached out to touch him, and expected her hand to pass right through his body, but it didn't. He jolted at her touch.
"Don't worry John. I've done this before, many times in fact. It's a
great honor to be able to do it to you. I'm sure this will help you."
The moment of first contact had arrived. Jenna let one hand gently
glide ever so slightly over John's thigh, encased in tight black
breeches. Reaching out with the other hand, she ran it over his crotch,
feeling an impressive bulge.
"Oh my! I feel strangely warmed yet again!" John sighed.
Jenna fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, being more used to
zippers. Something large and splendid lurked within. Either that or he
had a Bible stuffed down there. "My God!" she gasped, as the Methodist's
member was revealed. The short, slightly-built John Wesley was hung
like a horse!
"How on earth were you so unlucky in love?" Jenna exclaimed.
"Mostly the ladies deserted me long before I even reached the bedchamber," he mumbled.
"Well I'm not deserting you." She pledged.
Outside the vestry, Reverend Ewing paced back and forth, wondering what the strange groaning noises were all about.
"The hell is going' on in there?" She said out loud.
"Ah!" John sighed, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Thoroughly satisfied, he cried out in joy. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"Ah!
I'm free once more! You've freed me Jenna! I can't thank you enough! I
can return and be at peace!" He began to rise up into the air. "I hope
we shall meet again sometime! Farewell and God bless!"
Jenna stood up and wiped her lips. "Godspeed, John! Oh! Just one more
thing, next time you visit, can you bring your brother Charles along?"
Reverend Ewing was about to knock on the vestry door, when it suddenly opened.
"Oh! Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine. You can reopen your church. John's spirit is at peace once more."
"For sure? He's really gone? But how?"
"I just said a prayer for him. Told him how much his teaching
continues to inspire people to this day. That seemed to satisfy him and
he just faded away."
"Well thank you so much, Jenna," the reverend said, shaking her hand.
"I'm so glad it's all over. It was really stressing me out! and I'm so
happy that John is at peace in the Lord's kingdom again. Oh, what's that
on your clothing?"
Jenna looked down and was mortified at the huge globs of cum. "Oh
dear. It's, candle wax. I didn't realize it had spilled. I must get
going now, Reverend Ewing. Simon is waiting in the car and he'll be
getting worried."
"Of course. Thank you again, and give my regards to Simon!"
When she'd gone, Reverend Ewing looked round the vestry. "Hmm, strange. There are no candles in here."
The lecherous church warden meets his match.
After peace was restored to Oakwood Road Methodist Church, and the
spirit of John Wesley successfully liberated, Jenna and Reverend Morris
turned their attentions to this weekend's Remembrance Sunday service.
This was always a major event, and the people would be crammed into St.
Michael's like sardines.
"I've finally completed this special sermon," Reverend Morris said,
handing Jenna his iPad. "Have a read and tell me what you think. I
included your suggestions about the importance of teaching the younger
generation about those who died in wars. Also the bit about Winston
Churchill being a flawed figure. Good suggestion, that. As human beings
we are all flawed in some way."
"It looks fantastic. Let me grab a coffee and settle down to enjoy this!"
"I hope it won't come across as too boring. You know I always get
paranoid about my sermons. So many churchgoers dread a long sermon!"
"Your sermons are always fun and relevant, Simon, You're too hard on yourself."
The mild-mannered vicar smiled. "Aww, thanks! Oh and I hope Norman
Winstanley behaves himself this weekend. I had to have a quiet word with
him during the Wednesday morning service."
"The new churchwarden? What's he done wrong?"
"Well, as you know, he took over from dear old Albert who died last
month. He'd previously been at St. John's, but sadly, that church has
closed for good and is being demolished. Such a shame. It was a great
church back in the day."
"Very sad when a church dies. What are they building in its place?" Jenna asked.
"An Aldi supermarket. Anyways, about Norman. He's sixty-five and a
terrible lecher, to put it plainly. Some say he's Sid James and Benny
Hill cranked up to eleven. He didn't get nicknamed Carry On Norm for
nothing."
Jenna was immediately intrigued. How come I've never noticed this guy
before? She thought. "Ooh. So he likes to ogle young women does he?"
"Yes, but not just young! I've seen him staring at the legs of older
women too. Last Sunday, I caught him perving at Mrs. Wilcox when she was
doing the flower arranging. And she's about eighty! Though I admit, she
does have nice legs, for someone er, so mature."
"Naughty boy. At least he's not ageist." Jenna said. "He needs to get on OnlyFans."
Reverend Morris couldn't help but laugh. "You always try to see the
best in everyone! Well just looking is one thing, but Norman has built
up a bit of a reputation for being a qualified pincher of bottoms. I
won't tolerate that sort of behavior. It's completely unacceptable. I'm
surprised he's avoided getting into more trouble, to be honest."
"Is he married?"
"No, widowed. Took early retirement too. Has far too much time on his
hands. And we all know that the Devil makes work for idle hands, "
"So true," Jenna nodded. "He makes bottoms for idle hands to pinch. "I don't think I've seen Norman. What does he look like?"
"Well he wears glasses and he's the spitting image of Frank Carson."
Jenna blinked. "Who?"
"Heh, I keep forgetting the age gap between us. Frank was a Northern
Irish comedian. He's dead now. My dad was and still is a massive fan of
him. He used to go and see him on stage at Blackpool in the 1990s."
Reverend Morris looked up a picture of the comedian on his phone and
showed it to her.
"Ok. I'll keep an eye out for Norman this Sunday!"
"If he tries anything with you, tell me at once!"
"Oh don't worry. He wouldn't dare," Jenna replied, smirking to
herself, an idea already forming in her mind. Naughty Norman. I can't
have a churchwarden with wandering hands threatening Simon's church. I'd
better get my hands on him before he causes any more trouble!
As expected, the Sunday service was very well-attended. Jenna had
arrived early, as she wanted to sit in a specific place right in the
front pew. She chose to sit on the left side, in front of the organ.
She'd chosen this spot because it was semi-hidden, due to a convenient
pillar. More importantly, Norman the churchwarden would soon be standing
here, just a few feet away, ready to direct people when it was time to
take communion. For Remembrance Sunday, Jenna had chosen a smart, but
conservative black dress and a silk scarf featuring a poppy pattern. She
was wearing two paper poppy badges, and one of them was in a very
intimate place.
"I hope this isn't disrespectful to the war dead," she thought to
herself as she crossed her legs. "But it's necessary. This is for the
good of the church's reputation. Very helpful that these self-adhesive
poppy badges exist now. I just hope it doesn't drop off, "
Before long, Norman Winstanley appeared and Jenna recognized him at
once. Her husband's Frank Carson description had been spot on. The guy
looked just like him. A full head of white hair, glasses and bushy
eyebrows. A stocky build, with a beer gut. Norman looked very smart. He
was wearing a dark grey suit with white shirt and maroon tie. He had big
hairy hands. Jenna wondered if other parts of his body were hairy.
"Ah, that's him. Mr. Wandering Hands Winstanley," she said to
herself. She should've been repulsed by this randy old boomer, like most
women her age would be, but as usual, she found herself lusting after
him and getting wet.
"I wonder if he wears y-fronts like Gordon? He looks the type." Of
all the different types of underwear she'd seen men of this church
wearing, y-fronts and boxer shorts were her favorite.
Norman stood in his usual place, ready to direct the lost sheep, as
he termed the congregation, to the pews, and then out again, when called
for communion. St. Michael's had an efficient system whereby the
congregation, one pew at a time, went up for communion, walked in a
circle round the church and back to their seat. This system had been
introduced during the pandemic, but had proved so successful, it had
been kept on.
Suddenly, the strains of the organ interrupted the quietness of the
church, as Gordon began playing the opening hymn, O God Our Help in Ages
Past.
Everyone dutifully stood up, and it was then that Jenna caught
Norman's eye. She noticed him staring and winked at him. He winked back
at her. Immediately, she knew she had his full, undivided attention.
Who's that tasty little filly? Norman thought. I haven't seen her
before. Mind you, I've only been helping out here a week. Not many young
lasses in this church. She's a pretty one. Mmm, I'd like to goose her!
Look at him, undressing me with his eyes, Jenna smirked. Oh he's
horny all right. I think he needs a lot more than a butt cheek to pinch.
I bet his balls are as blue as a Smurf's arse.
The hymn finished, and everyone sat down, as Reverend Morris began the usual start of the morning Eucharist.
"A very blessed welcome to all who have joined us today, for this,
our special Remembrance Sunday service. We are gathered here today to
reflect on those who gave their lives in the service of this country. At
the same time, we reflect on those who are currently enduring the
horrors of war. The people of Ukraine, Syria and Afghanistan. Let us
pray, "
Jenna bowed her head. At the same time, she crossed her legs and slid
her dress up, exposing some creamy white thigh. Norman's eyes almost
popped out of his head. She was sure she heard him utter a noise, rather
like the whinny of a horse. At the same time, Gordon peered over the
top of the organ, waiting for his cue to start playing the Gloria in
Excelsis. His elevated position afforded him a perfect view of Jenna,
when he spotted her sitting right at the front. He assumed she'd chosen
to sit there for his benefit.
"Venus herself," he muttered, gazing at her flawless legs and
remembering the last time they'd been wrapped round his body at the
vicarage social. He felt his cock starting to throb. "God she makes me
feel glad that I was born a man!"
A cough brought him to his senses. Josh the curate was desperately trying to attract his attention as discreetly as possible.
"Oh, sorry!" Gordon whispered, fumbling with his music sheets. He started playing the Gloria.
Jenna was getting excited just thinking about flashing her white
panties. Her nipples were already erect and hard and she could feel that
familiar warm, moist sensation between her legs. Slowly, she slid her
dress up higher and uncrossed her legs, doing so
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Fellatio Rites for the Ghost of John Wesley
By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.
Jenna took a deep breath as she approached Oakwood Road Methodist Church.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Reverend Morris asked.
She patted his shoulder. "I'll be fine Simon. You don't need to
worry. It's the ghost of John Wesley, not Jack the Ripper. This is
exciting! I hope he'll appear!"
"Right, well, I'll be sat in the car then. I hope you won't be too
long. Remember, just turn and run the moment you feel in any way
uncomfortable."
"Reverend Morris, I think you're scared!"
"No I'm not! I can't help being concerned for the safety of the woman I love can I? Aren't you a tiny bit nervous?"
"I'm as cool as spring water," Jenna replied. "I was reading all
about John Wesley last night. He was a true gentleman. I'm sure this
won't take long."
Reverend Morris nodded as he watched his wife enter the church. "Well
if anyone can fix this, Jenna can. I don't know what she said to the
Archbishop of Canterbury last week, but he changed his mind about the
wall plaque faster than the Government does U-turns. I wonder what she
said to him? Whatever it was, Justin Welby was impressed!"
He reclined in his car seat. "I was so lucky to meet Jenna. Of
course, it was God who delivered her to me. That fateful Sunday morning
in the vestry, oh."
Father Aiden was walking along the street. Many things were on his
mind. He had some important decisions to make about his future in the
priesthood. Briefly glancing up from his smartphone, his heart jumped as
he spotted Jenna entering the Methodist church across the road.
"Holy Mother, " he muttered. A rush of excitement swept over him as
he recalled the intimate encounter he'd enjoyed a few weeks ago. It was
that which had spurred him to think about his future. He quickly crossed
the road.
"Hello Father!"
The priest almost dropped his phone. Someone was shouting at him from a parked car.
"Oh, Reverend Morris. Hello there." Damn, no chance of a repeat
encounter, he thought. "I've just seen your wife going into the
Methodist church."
"Yes, I hope she won't be long. I'm just waiting for her."
"Are you alright? You look a bit anxious, if you don't mind me saying."
"It's a long story, Father. I think you'd better sit down in the
passenger seat and I'll tell you. You've not heard about what's been
going on in Oakwood Road church have you?"
The priest looked confused. "Nope. Tell me more!" He opened the car door and sat down. I could do to unburden myself too."
"Okay, well, this might sound a bit weird."
"I can handle anything weird," Father Aiden replied.
"It's about ghosts. As a Catholic, what are your thoughts on them and have you ever seen one?"
Father Aiden thought about his answer very carefully. "Hmm. In
theory, billions of ghosts potentially exist because billions of human
beings have "lost" their bodies through death. Strictly speaking, these
disembodied souls are not ghosts because they have never become
discernible to any living people. Only those few souls whose presence is
seen or felt by others are truly ghosts. And their existence is real."
"So you've seen one?"
"Yes. Two actually. Once in Ireland when I was a child and another
when I was based in Liverpool. I was called upon to rid a family's home
of a troubled spirit."
Reverend Morris looked relieved. "That's good to know."
"The Old Testament also has a few ghost stories. The most famous one
is in 1 Samuel 28:8 thru 20. Here the inspired writer tells how King Saul
met with the ghost of the prophet Samuel." Father Aiden replied. "Have
you seen a ghost?"
"Yes. And not just any ghost, but the ghost of John Wesley! He's
haunting the Methodist church. That's why I'm here. Jenna's gone in
there to try and help him return to, the other side."
"Oh I see, then she must, wait, what?" Father Aiden did a double take.
"Thanks for coming' along Mrs. Morris," Reverend Ewing said, shaking
Jenna's hand. "I know you probably think this whole thing is crazy."
"Not at all! And call me Jenna. I'm a true believer. If my husband
says that you and he saw John Wesley, then I know it's true. But why
does John want to see me of all people?"
"Your hubby mentioned that your grandma is a Methodist?"
"Uh yeah. Bit of a tenuous link. Like Sir Henry Barrington-Smythe's horse."
"Huh?"
"Oh, never mind. Figure of speech."
"You Brits and your little quirks!" Reverend Ewing laughed. "I'm still getting used to 'em!"
"You said John usually appears in the vestry?"
"Uh-huh. Can be anywhere in the church, but he seems to like the vestry best."
"Right, well go and wait in there and say a few prayers, and see if
he appears. I'm not sure I can do anything, but I'll try my best."
Jenna entered the vestry. Everything looked perfectly normal in there. She closed the door and looked around.
"It always comes back to the vestry," she smiled to herself as she recalled when she first got to know Reverend Morris.
Suddenly, the row of gowns on the rail began to swing on their hangers. The temperature dropped, and Jenna rubbed her arms.
"Are you there, John?" She called out.
"Yes."
She spun round. There was no sign of the spirit. "Hey, come on, show
yourself at least. It's no fun talking to the invisible man."
"My sincere apologies," John replied, and slowly faded into view. For
the first time, Jenna was taken aback. "My God, you really are John
Wesley, "
He nodded and bowed. "Bless ye, for am so honored you hath come here.
If I may be so bold to say, you be a lady of great beauty my dear."
"Very kind of you to say, Mr. Wesley." Jenna said. "Why are you back in the land of the living? Aren't you happy in Heaven?"
"Ah yes," he began. "Happier than mortals can ever imagine. But you
see, I feel compelled to return to this realm every All Hallow's Eve. I
like to re-visit the places where I worshipped back when I was alive.
And it was in this very place where this church now stands that I
preached to crowds back in the autumn of 1778."
"You've got a lot of places to visit in just one night," Jenna said.
"I read all about you. You traveled all over England spreading the Word
of the Lord. Plus you went to America, the colonies, when you were
younger."
"Indeed I did, yes. To my regret, I lingered a little too long here,
for I found myself unable to return to the afterlife. The sun had
started to rise, heralding All Saint's Day. Thus, I am trapped here in
this church until next All Hallow's Eve. Only a tremendous release of
positive energy could allow me to return before then."
"Oh dear. May I ask why out of all the people in the world, you
wanted to see me? What can I do? My gran is a Methodist. Is that the
reason?"
"No Miss Jenna. It was your aura that attracted me. It's very strong.
I believe God himself must've embodied you with some sort of innate
goodness that allows you to help people."
"You're making me sound like some kind of saint! I assure you I'm
just a regular human being. I'm not particularly gifted in anything,
although I do try to be a good person, "
John had a rather dreamy expression on his face. "You remind me so
much of Grace Murray, a lady I loved and lost, only you be far prettier
than her."
It was then that Jenna had an idea. A huge grin spread across her
face. She'd read all about John Wesley's life and how unlucky he'd been
in love. "A tremendous release of positive energy, you say? I think I
know something which may cause that!"
John put his hands together. "You do? Pray, do tell, my dear."
"You need to experience an orgasm. What could be more positive than that?"
He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh you know, " She tried to think of a period-appropriate phrase so he'd understand. "The end act of carnal relations?"
He blushed. "Oh. Miss Jenna I be a man of God. I don't see how, "
Jenna sank to her knees. "Only one way to find out, John!" She
paused. So he's a ghost. I've never pleasured a ghost before. Isn't he
composed of just gas? He's quite cute, for someone who died in 1791! I
wonder if,
She reached out to touch him, and expected her hand to pass right through his body, but it didn't. He jolted at her touch.
"Don't worry John. I've done this before, many times in fact. It's a
great honor to be able to do it to you. I'm sure this will help you."
The moment of first contact had arrived. Jenna let one hand gently
glide ever so slightly over John's thigh, encased in tight black
breeches. Reaching out with the other hand, she ran it over his crotch,
feeling an impressive bulge.
"Oh my! I feel strangely warmed yet again!" John sighed.
Jenna fumbled with the buttons on his breeches, being more used to
zippers. Something large and splendid lurked within. Either that or he
had a Bible stuffed down there. "My God!" she gasped, as the Methodist's
member was revealed. The short, slightly-built John Wesley was hung
like a horse!
"How on earth were you so unlucky in love?" Jenna exclaimed.
"Mostly the ladies deserted me long before I even reached the bedchamber," he mumbled.
"Well I'm not deserting you." She pledged.
Outside the vestry, Reverend Ewing paced back and forth, wondering what the strange groaning noises were all about.
"The hell is going' on in there?" She said out loud.
"Ah!" John sighed, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Thoroughly satisfied, he cried out in joy. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"
"Ah!
I'm free once more! You've freed me Jenna! I can't thank you enough! I
can return and be at peace!" He began to rise up into the air. "I hope
we shall meet again sometime! Farewell and God bless!"
Jenna stood up and wiped her lips. "Godspeed, John! Oh! Just one more
thing, next time you visit, can you bring your brother Charles along?"
Reverend Ewing was about to knock on the vestry door, when it suddenly opened.
"Oh! Is everything alright?"
"Everything's fine. You can reopen your church. John's spirit is at peace once more."
"For sure? He's really gone? But how?"
"I just said a prayer for him. Told him how much his teaching
continues to inspire people to this day. That seemed to satisfy him and
he just faded away."
"Well thank you so much, Jenna," the reverend said, shaking her hand.
"I'm so glad it's all over. It was really stressing me out! and I'm so
happy that John is at peace in the Lord's kingdom again. Oh, what's that
on your clothing?"
Jenna looked down and was mortified at the huge globs of cum. "Oh
dear. It's, candle wax. I didn't realize it had spilled. I must get
going now, Reverend Ewing. Simon is waiting in the car and he'll be
getting worried."
"Of course. Thank you again, and give my regards to Simon!"
When she'd gone, Reverend Ewing looked round the vestry. "Hmm, strange. There are no candles in here."
The lecherous church warden meets his match.
After peace was restored to Oakwood Road Methodist Church, and the
spirit of John Wesley successfully liberated, Jenna and Reverend Morris
turned their attentions to this weekend's Remembrance Sunday service.
This was always a major event, and the people would be crammed into St.
Michael's like sardines.
"I've finally completed this special sermon," Reverend Morris said,
handing Jenna his iPad. "Have a read and tell me what you think. I
included your suggestions about the importance of teaching the younger
generation about those who died in wars. Also the bit about Winston
Churchill being a flawed figure. Good suggestion, that. As human beings
we are all flawed in some way."
"It looks fantastic. Let me grab a coffee and settle down to enjoy this!"
"I hope it won't come across as too boring. You know I always get
paranoid about my sermons. So many churchgoers dread a long sermon!"
"Your sermons are always fun and relevant, Simon, You're too hard on yourself."
The mild-mannered vicar smiled. "Aww, thanks! Oh and I hope Norman
Winstanley behaves himself this weekend. I had to have a quiet word with
him during the Wednesday morning service."
"The new churchwarden? What's he done wrong?"
"Well, as you know, he took over from dear old Albert who died last
month. He'd previously been at St. John's, but sadly, that church has
closed for good and is being demolished. Such a shame. It was a great
church back in the day."
"Very sad when a church dies. What are they building in its place?" Jenna asked.
"An Aldi supermarket. Anyways, about Norman. He's sixty-five and a
terrible lecher, to put it plainly. Some say he's Sid James and Benny
Hill cranked up to eleven. He didn't get nicknamed Carry On Norm for
nothing."
Jenna was immediately intrigued. How come I've never noticed this guy
before? She thought. "Ooh. So he likes to ogle young women does he?"
"Yes, but not just young! I've seen him staring at the legs of older
women too. Last Sunday, I caught him perving at Mrs. Wilcox when she was
doing the flower arranging. And she's about eighty! Though I admit, she
does have nice legs, for someone er, so mature."
"Naughty boy. At least he's not ageist." Jenna said. "He needs to get on OnlyFans."
Reverend Morris couldn't help but laugh. "You always try to see the
best in everyone! Well just looking is one thing, but Norman has built
up a bit of a reputation for being a qualified pincher of bottoms. I
won't tolerate that sort of behavior. It's completely unacceptable. I'm
surprised he's avoided getting into more trouble, to be honest."
"Is he married?"
"No, widowed. Took early retirement too. Has far too much time on his
hands. And we all know that the Devil makes work for idle hands, "
"So true," Jenna nodded. "He makes bottoms for idle hands to pinch. "I don't think I've seen Norman. What does he look like?"
"Well he wears glasses and he's the spitting image of Frank Carson."
Jenna blinked. "Who?"
"Heh, I keep forgetting the age gap between us. Frank was a Northern
Irish comedian. He's dead now. My dad was and still is a massive fan of
him. He used to go and see him on stage at Blackpool in the 1990s."
Reverend Morris looked up a picture of the comedian on his phone and
showed it to her.
"Ok. I'll keep an eye out for Norman this Sunday!"
"If he tries anything with you, tell me at once!"
"Oh don't worry. He wouldn't dare," Jenna replied, smirking to
herself, an idea already forming in her mind. Naughty Norman. I can't
have a churchwarden with wandering hands threatening Simon's church. I'd
better get my hands on him before he causes any more trouble!
As expected, the Sunday service was very well-attended. Jenna had
arrived early, as she wanted to sit in a specific place right in the
front pew. She chose to sit on the left side, in front of the organ.
She'd chosen this spot because it was semi-hidden, due to a convenient
pillar. More importantly, Norman the churchwarden would soon be standing
here, just a few feet away, ready to direct people when it was time to
take communion. For Remembrance Sunday, Jenna had chosen a smart, but
conservative black dress and a silk scarf featuring a poppy pattern. She
was wearing two paper poppy badges, and one of them was in a very
intimate place.
"I hope this isn't disrespectful to the war dead," she thought to
herself as she crossed her legs. "But it's necessary. This is for the
good of the church's reputation. Very helpful that these self-adhesive
poppy badges exist now. I just hope it doesn't drop off, "
Before long, Norman Winstanley appeared and Jenna recognized him at
once. Her husband's Frank Carson description had been spot on. The guy
looked just like him. A full head of white hair, glasses and bushy
eyebrows. A stocky build, with a beer gut. Norman looked very smart. He
was wearing a dark grey suit with white shirt and maroon tie. He had big
hairy hands. Jenna wondered if other parts of his body were hairy.
"Ah, that's him. Mr. Wandering Hands Winstanley," she said to
herself. She should've been repulsed by this randy old boomer, like most
women her age would be, but as usual, she found herself lusting after
him and getting wet.
"I wonder if he wears y-fronts like Gordon? He looks the type." Of
all the different types of underwear she'd seen men of this church
wearing, y-fronts and boxer shorts were her favorite.
Norman stood in his usual place, ready to direct the lost sheep, as
he termed the congregation, to the pews, and then out again, when called
for communion. St. Michael's had an efficient system whereby the
congregation, one pew at a time, went up for communion, walked in a
circle round the church and back to their seat. This system had been
introduced during the pandemic, but had proved so successful, it had
been kept on.
Suddenly, the strains of the organ interrupted the quietness of the
church, as Gordon began playing the opening hymn, O God Our Help in Ages
Past.
Everyone dutifully stood up, and it was then that Jenna caught
Norman's eye. She noticed him staring and winked at him. He winked back
at her. Immediately, she knew she had his full, undivided attention.
Who's that tasty little filly? Norman thought. I haven't seen her
before. Mind you, I've only been helping out here a week. Not many young
lasses in this church. She's a pretty one. Mmm, I'd like to goose her!
Look at him, undressing me with his eyes, Jenna smirked. Oh he's
horny all right. I think he needs a lot more than a butt cheek to pinch.
I bet his balls are as blue as a Smurf's arse.
The hymn finished, and everyone sat down, as Reverend Morris began the usual start of the morning Eucharist.
"A very blessed welcome to all who have joined us today, for this,
our special Remembrance Sunday service. We are gathered here today to
reflect on those who gave their lives in the service of this country. At
the same time, we reflect on those who are currently enduring the
horrors of war. The people of Ukraine, Syria and Afghanistan. Let us
pray, "
Jenna bowed her head. At the same time, she crossed her legs and slid
her dress up, exposing some creamy white thigh. Norman's eyes almost
popped out of his head. She was sure she heard him utter a noise, rather
like the whinny of a horse. At the same time, Gordon peered over the
top of the organ, waiting for his cue to start playing the Gloria in
Excelsis. His elevated position afforded him a perfect view of Jenna,
when he spotted her sitting right at the front. He assumed she'd chosen
to sit there for his benefit.
"Venus herself," he muttered, gazing at her flawless legs and
remembering the last time they'd been wrapped round his body at the
vicarage social. He felt his cock starting to throb. "God she makes me
feel glad that I was born a man!"
A cough brought him to his senses. Josh the curate was desperately trying to attract his attention as discreetly as possible.
"Oh, sorry!" Gordon whispered, fumbling with his music sheets. He started playing the Gloria.
Jenna was getting excited just thinking about flashing her white
panties. Her nipples were already erect and hard and she could feel that
familiar warm, moist sensation between her legs. Slowly, she slid her
dress up higher and uncrossed her legs, doing so
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