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 behaviour. 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 recognised 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 favourite.
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 in such a way that it was impossible to avoid a panty flash. She looked at Norman and raised an eyebrow. He let out an audible gasp and his face flushed a shade of red that looked as if his blood pressure had reached stroke-inducing levels. Fumbling in his pocket, he grabbed a handkerchief and wiped his face. Jenna noticed how his forehead and upper lip were glistening with sweat.
No-Nut November might be a thing, but not in my world, Jenna thought. At this rate, poor Norman will have collapsed before I even get to unzip him. He was looking at her again and she noticed his bulge in his trousers that he tried covering with crossed hands. Communion was rapidly approaching, and in the middle of the offertory hymn, Norman suddenly rushed off to the gents. When he returned a few minutes later, Jenna noticed his flies were unzipped. She wondered whether he'd done this deliberately or forgotten to zip up after having a pee or a wank.
"So you want to play do you?" Jenna whispered and winked at him.
Norman was holding an order of service booklet, and deliberately dropped it. As he squatted down to pick it up, the gap in his unzipped trousers widened, allowing Jenna a glimpse of his underwear. She was thrilled to have a peek at his pale blue y-fronts and the bulge contained within.
"Very nice!" She mouthed to him and blew a discreet kiss.
It was time to take communion, and being sat at the front, Jenna had to go first. Calmly, she rose from the pew and walked past the organ. As she did, the poppy pinned to her dress fell out.
"Oh dear, she said, and bent down to pick it up. As she did, she ensured her dress rose up, revealing a flash of her panties. However it was Gordon who got the full eyeful. He leant over for a better look, and clumsily knocked a load of music books off the shelf at the side of the organ.
"Damn and blast it," he muttered, scrambling to pick them up.
Jenna took communion and walked round the church and down the side aisle. As she approached her pew, Norman "helpfully" held out his hand to direct her, and she took the opportunity to squeeze past him. As she did, she felt a hand cup her right buttock and give a little pinch.
"You're a dirty old man, Mr Winstanley," she said. "Luckily for you, I happen to be a dirty young woman." Quick as a whip, she slid her hand to his crotch and groped his bulge through his unzipped trousers.
"Ahh...oh!" Norman jolted in surprise. Jenna sat down and smiled at him.
"I want to see more. Do you?"
His nostrils flared, and he quickly backed off, squirming with arousal and bewilderment. Jenna wondered if she'd scared him off, but as the organ music resumed and communion ended, she saw him grab the order of service booklet again and hold it sideways against his crotch. Wondering where this would lead, she was ready to play. It was much more fun than her doing all the flashing. She raised her leg and slid a finger across her panties, pulling the material to the side, giving him a peek at her pubic hair.
Norman felt like he was going to cum in his underpants, if this continued. His face was red and his breathing was shallow. He wondered just how much longer he could hold on, but hold on he did. This cheeky little filly was unlike any other woman he'd ever encountered. A wiser, less lecherous man would've backed off long ago, in this age of Me Too, mindful that he could be being led into a trap. But Norman was a shameless, seasoned groper and letch, and he wasn't going to back down now. Using the booklet to shield his crotch from other members of the congregation, a swift movement of his left hand freed his cock, and the top of it poked out from his blue underpants.
