More Tea Vicar?

Reverend Simon Morris cleared his throat as he addressed the group of people in the garden. "Everyone! It is so lovely to see you all here at this annual gathering at St. Michael's Vicarage. Normally, I hold the garden party on Saturday, but when I saw how nice the weather was going to be this week, I moved it back."

That wasn't strictly true. Saturday was his son Christopher's sixth birthday, and plans had been made to surprise him with a trip to Chester Zoo.

"Of course, today is not just a regular Thursday," the vicar continued. "1st August is Lammas Day. Lammas or 'Loaf-mass' (derived from the Anglo-Saxon Hlafmaesse) is an ancient English feast, held as a thanksgiving for the first-fruits of the wheat harvest. Traditionally, a newly baked loaf from the wheat harvest was presented before God within the mass of that day. While the ceremony ceased at the Reformation, reference to Lammas Day continued in the Prayer Book calendar, and the practice has been revived in some places in more recent years, including at our church."

There was much shuffling of feet and a couple of coughs, as the assembled guests hoped this impromptu sermon would soon end and the serving of food would begin.

Gordon sipped a beer and gave Mia a pained smile.

"He does this every single time. I took the day off work to come to this ruddy garden party. I'm gagging for a bacon sarnie, not a history lesson."

"Me too," Mia replied. "Jenna said she'd make this more bearable. Think she was getting some steak bakes from Greggs."

Gordon's face immediately lit up. "Ah! God bless your cousin. A true humanitarian."

Reverend Morris was still prattling on. "In the past week we've all enjoyed watching the Olympic Games..." He glanced round at the bored-looking guests. "Let's see. Tony! What's your favourite Olympic sport?"

"Sorry Vicar. I hate sport. Haven't seen any of the Olympics. It triggers me."

"Oh...right. Well, what do you like watching?"

"House of the Dragon."

"Ah...yes. Jolly good. I must get round to watching that," the vicar replied, utterly clueless as to what that was.

"Mind you, it's not as good as Game of Thrones," Tony added. "That was bloody brilliant. But they messed up the final season. Don't watch the final season. Daenerys was my favourite character and they just killed her off. Oops. Spoiler alert! I can lend you my DVD box set if you'd like."

"Er, that's very kind, Tony. Thanks. So...moving on. Not everyone likes to watch sport. My grandfather used to like birdwatching. He turned to Mrs Wilcox, who was sat with Norman the churchwarden. "Do you like birdwatching, Gladys?"

"Nay Reverend. I prefer watching men!"

Laughter broke out amongst the guests.

At that point, salvation arrived, in the form of Jenna.

"Here we go!" the redhead smiled, strolling into the garden with a massive cardboard box. "A job lot of steak bakes! Now everyone -- we've also got a buffet, and plenty of booze, so on behalf of Simon and myself, please enjoy yourselves!"

"Hallelujah!" Gordon shouted, making a beeline for the buffet table.

"Looks like I came at the right time," Jenna smiled at the organist. "Simon does get a bit carried away with his little speeches. Part and parcel of being a vicar!"

"Aye, tell him to do a shortened version next time," Gordon interrupted, piling his plate high with sausage rolls. He looked a lot slimmer.

"Been on a diet, Gordon?" Jenna added.

"After THAT embarrassing incident on Trinity Sunday when my trousers fell down in church, well it prompted me to get in shape! I'm not holding back today though. You've got to have some pleasures in life, right?"

"Oh absolutely," Jenna said with a wink.

A short time later, the party was in full swing and the guests were sat in little groups, chatting, Christopher and a couple of younger members of the church were kicking a football around, and Reverend Morris was doing his rounds, taking the time to speak to everyone. Little did he know that one guest in particular, had her eye on him and was waiting, like a shark lurking in the depths, ready to strike.

"Have you tried our home-made rum punch yet?" Jenna said, offering Mia and Gordon a glass. It's a little on the strong side. Simon got mixed up with metric and imperial measurements..."

"Ooh, nice," she said, eagerly gulping it down. "It packs a punch...pardon the pun!"

"Blimey that's strong," Gordon muttered. "I'd best refrain from having any more. I'm driving and I've already had two beers. You go ahead and fill your boots. I'm just going to have a chat to Norman. Er, any more of those steak bakes?"

"Sure, help yourself, Gord."

They giggled as he wandered off. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a football bounced across the buffet table and landed in the punch bowl, sending its contents splashing all over Mia's white dress.

"GOOOAAALLL!"

"Oh God no!" she wailed. "It's ruined! I only bought this last week!"

Jenna picked up the football and raised her eyebrow at Christopher.

"Sorry Jenna. But it was a penalty kick against Germany!"

"Try to be more careful next time, okay? Don't kick the ball towards here." She handed it back.

"Jen, my dress!" Mia shouted. "Ugh, kids!"

"I'll sort it out. Come with me. I'll get it washed and you can wear one of my spare dresses. I remember when you were staying with us last year, you're the same size as me. I need to change my dress as well. Got some punch splattered on it."

That seemed to pacify her and she followed Jenna into the house.

Norman the churchwarden appeared to be in a state of discomfort as he engaged in idle conversation with Gordon.

"You okay?" Gordon asked. "You're shuffling around on that seat like someone with fleas."

"Oh he's got a..." Mrs Wilcox interrupted.

"A bad case of piles," Norman quickly replied.

"Ooh, damn, Norman. I'm sorry to hear that. There's creams you can get."

"Er yes. You'll have to excuse me, Gordon. Call of nature and all that. Must say, it's handy that the vicar finally got a downstairs loo installed." He shuffled off, with a John Wayne walk.

"Poor sod," Gordon said. "I had no idea he suffered from piles."

"Ha, piles my foot!" Mrs Wilcox smiled. "He's wearing a chastity belt, that's all. I made him put it on this morning. Of course, it may be a bit too tight." With that, the old lady calmly took a sip of her sherry.

He was almost too stunned to reply, and gulped down the rest of his beer. "Given what you did last year, I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised!"

After two beers, Gordon was soon bursting for a pee. He hurried into the vicarage, intending to use the downstairs loo, but to his dismay, it was still occupied. Poor Norman was obviously still struggling with the chastity belt Mrs Wilcox had asked him to wear. Unable to wait, Gordon headed up the stairs and prayed that the main bathroom wouldn't be in use. Fortunately, it wasn't. After relieving himself, he was about to head back downstairs, when he heard giggling.

Jenna and Mia stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, their figures silhouetted by the soft light spilling in from the windows. "Oh hello Gordon! We need some help with this zip," Jenna said, her tone casual, yet tinged with a hint of playfulness. They were both tipsy, and Mia was the more tipsy of the two. The rum punch had done its work.

Mia giggled, "I was trying this dress on. I got punch splashed on mine so Jenna kindly agreed to let me borrow one of hers. But it's a bit short, and the zip is stuck. Would you mind?" She twirled around, presenting her back to him, her brunette hair cascading down her bare shoulders.

Gordon's heart skipped a beat as he approached, his eyes widening at the sight before him. Jenna, the vicar's wife, was in her underwear. White silk and lace bra and knickers. He hadn't anticipated this seeing lovely sight at the vicarage garden party, and it was a very welcome one.

"Why certainly," he grinned. "Always ready to help a lass in distress!"

"Thanks," Mia said with a knowing smile as he worked on her stuck zip and pulled it down.

Jenna watched him, a glint in her eye. "You know, Gordon," she began, her voice low and sultry, "you've always been such a good sport."

The tension in the bedroom grew thicker as her hand brushed against his arm, sending a shiver down his spine. "We've got an idea," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "Why don't we make this vicarage party a truly unforgettable experience?"

Gordon's mind raced as he took in the scene. There was something about the way Jenna and Mia looked at him that made his pulse quicken...dear God, was a fantasy of his about to become reality?

"What are you suggesting?" he managed to ask, his voice hoarse with a mix of shock and intrigue.

Jenna stepped closer, her eyes locked on his. "Mia and I have always had a... special bond. And we've both noticed how much you've been helping out lately. We thought it might be nice to, you know, show our appreciation." She gestured to the king size bed.

Mia took over, her voice a seductive purr. "We've fantasised about this for a while, Gordy-Pie. We want to share something truly intimate with you, something that'll be our little secret." She stepped aside, revealing the clothes she'd removed, tossed carelessly onto a chair.

Gordon's eyes darted between the two women, his thoughts racing. The scent of their perfume mingled with the alcohol they'd drunk, creating an intoxicating blend that clouded his judgment. He could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, and his own desires began to overtake his initial shock.

"We promise it'll just be this once," Jenna whispered, her hand sliding around his broad waist. "A little indulgence, a divine little tryst, right here in the vicarage."

Mia stepped closer, her hand sliding up his chest. "We'll make it feel like heaven, Gordy-Pie," she murmured, her lips curling into a mischievous smile.

The weight of their proposal settled heavily on Gordon's shoulders. He knew he should say no, but the allure of the forbidden fruit was too tempting. He felt his resolve crumbling, the line between right and wrong becoming increasingly blurred. After all, the good Reverend was in the garden and could find out at any moment. On the other hand, last year Mia had slept with him too, so what was good for the goose and all that...

"Oh God yes," he heard himself say, the word slipping out before he could stop it. His cock was already straining against his underpants and trousers. A threesome with the vicar's wife and her cousin in the vicarage? He wasn't going to turn down this opportunity! Quickly, he unbuttoned his checked shirt and flung it off.

Their faces lit up with excitement, and they led him into the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind them. The room was airy and spacious, but it felt like it was closing in around him, the walls seeming to pulse with the rhythm of his racing heart. Gordon, somewhat naïvely expected it to be filled with religious images, perhaps a framed painting of Jesus, but there was nothing, save for a small wooden cross hanging on the back of the door.

Jenna reached up and kissed him, her lips soft and insistent. Mia watched, her eyes dark with desire, as she began to remove her bra. Gordon's mind swam with a mix of guilt and excitement as he realized he was about to cross a line he never thought he would.

Gordon could hear voices and laughter outside and glanced cautiously out of the bedroom window. He could see all the church regulars in the garden. There was Reverend Morris, speaking to the curate, and Bishop George helping himself to a load of barbecued chicken wings. Gladys Wilcox had discovered the punch bowl and was knocking it back like a drunk in a Benidorm beach bar. Someone who'd overindulged was throwing up in the flowerbed. It looked like Tony.

Mia came and stood behind Gordon. She brought her arms around his waist and began unfastening his belt, then his flies and finally the button of his cream-coloured trousers. They dropped to his ankles, leaving him in his white y-fronts. Jenna 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. Gordon gasped as his underpants were pulled down and removed in the same way, his cock springing upright ahead of him.

"Mmm, organists are always great...and swell...and positif!"

"We try to be!" He sighed. All three of them were now fully nude. Jenna's skin was smooth and warm, and Mia's hands felt like silk as they roamed over his body. He knew he should stop this, but he couldn't resist the temptation that was laid bare before him.

"What do you think, Jen? Think Gordon's organ pipe can be played by two people at once?"

"Of course it can!" Gordon spluttered, as he was pushed back onto the bed. "Sharing is caring!"

A bead of pre-cum appeared on the tip of his cock. Jenna bent to lick it off, and Mia quickly followed by running her tongue around the shaft. The organist let out a moan of ecstasy.

"Ohhh...fuck...more!" he begged.

"Ooh, language Gordon!" Jenna teased. The two women knelt either side of him and alternated sucking and stroking his cock, feeling his hairy balls until they were rigid, licking off the pre-cum each time it appeared until with a final twitch and a loud groan he shot a spurt of thick cum. They both swallowed it readily and licked the excesses including some that was now trickling down his thigh.

"Ahhh!" the organist gasped, almost going cross-eyed. He was in heaven.

Mia ran her fingers through his wiry grey chest hair and began kissing his nipples, belly, then his balls. "I know you're ticklish down here, Gordy-Pie!"

Meanwhile, in the garden, Reverend Morris was sipping a cup of Earl Grey. He glanced round, wondering where his wife had gone, when there was a hand on his shoulder.

"Hello Vicar," a well-upholstered, fiftysomething woman in a floral-print skirt and white blouse smiled. "May I call you Simon?"

He spun round and was face to face with Sandra Conway, wife of Reverend Jim, who'd stood in for him on Trinity Sunday.

"Why certainly, Sandra! Lovely to see you here!" They shook hands. "I'm sorry that Jim isn't able to join us."

"Ah yes. He'd had this fishing trip booked for months. Best place for him. To be quite honest, I'm relishing having the house to myself for a few days. I get a better standard of conversation from the cat."

Reverend Morris just chuckled. "Oh dear. Well he did a fine job of doing our Trinity service back in May. His sermon went down a storm with the flock. He gave me a few tips on how to write more interesting ones."

"The pulpit is about the only place where he is interesting," Sandra replied, rolling her eyes. She glanced at the row of large rhododendrons at the edge of the garden. "Such a lovely garden you have here. I do like those rhododendrons."

"Yes, they are lovely," the vicar said, placing his cup and saucer on a small table. "Come, I'll show you something. These were planted by my predecessor, Reverend Peter Smith, God rest his soul. I had a little stone plaque fixed on the wall, in memory of him."

There was a gap behind the rhododendrons, large enough for two adults to conceal themselves. A smirk appeared on Sandra's plump face as the unknowing vicar innocently walked behind the shrubs, running his hand across the brickwork.

"It's a massive garden. To be expected as it's an Edwardian house. Jenna and I are fortunate that several very kind members of the congregation are very green-fingered and help us out. I love gardening, but confess I'm a bit of an angel of death when it comes to plants. Most indoor plants I get die within weeks."

"Mmm-hmm," Sandra said, running a plump finger down his arm. "And with a traditional walled garden, comes plenty of privacy too. Nice, high brick wall with Virginia Creepers growing up it."

Reverend Morris nodded. "Indeed. More than anything, the wall blocks out the traffic noise and fumes."

"You're certainly an interesting vicar, Simon."

"Very kind of you to say, Sandra. I try to serve God and my congregation to the best of my ability."

"That's the problem with Jim. He isn't interesting. Outside of church." The conversation suddenly took a more intimate turn. "Do you know something? We've had separate bedrooms for years."

"Er, oh really?" Reverend Morris said, starting to feel a little awkward.

"But the biggest problem of all, Simon...it's our sex life. It's as dead as disco."

"Oh..."

Sandra put her arms round his waist and yanked him towards her before planting a kiss on his lips. He kissed her back, and then pulled away, but she had him in a wrestler's strength grip and resistance was futile. No words were spoken as she pulled him closer still until their chests pressed against each other. Sandra started kissing him again, smearing his lips with pink lipstick. He could feel her massive tits against his chest as they kissed until eventually he broke free.

"Um, Sandra...t-that was...nice...b-but I-I'm sure you didn't mean to do that..." Reverend Morris spluttered, his face turning crimson.

"What, to kiss the sexiest man I can think of at this moment in time? Yes, I bloody well did mean to do it. I'm going to do it again! Oh Simon, I've fantasised you ever since I saw you at that brass band concert last month."

"Um, which was that? I don't..."

"You know. The one organised by Oakwood Road Methodist Church. They held it at the Wellington Suite in the town hall. The room with the tatty wallpaper and second-hand chairs. Long overdue for a refurb, but the council is broke. Anyway it wasn't a good concert. Poor acoustics in that room."

"Oh...that. Yes, I remember now. Jenna and I left early."

She started kissing him again, ignoring his half-hearted gestures to stop. She pulled him close to her so that her tits were squashed against him, almost suffocating him. 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. Jesus, it was massive, a double D at least. Up and down he moved before gently giving it a squeeze. Each time he brushed past her nipple she would give a little gasp.

"There we are, Simon. Beginning to enjoy yourself? I'm more than a handful I know, but us larger ladies have a lot to offer! Oh my goodness, you are enjoying it..." she could feel something hard prodding her in the abdomen.

"Please no," Reverend Morris groaned. "Dear Lord, I mustn't..."

"Sunday is for begging forgiveness, Simon. I have needs, and only you can satisfy them!"

"B-but we're both married!" He said this despite willingly allowing his wife to be ravished by several other men in church almost two years ago."

"I don't care. I've been in a sexless marriage for years. Jim only sticks with me because it'd harm his social standing if he were to get divorced. I'm sure he's getting it elsewhere, too. Can't imagine who'd be desperate enough to shag him....maybe a resident from the local nursing home?" She pushed him down onto the dry, sandy ground. Through a gap between the leaves of the rhododendrons, Reverend Morris glimpsed children running around, his son amongst them. He could hear the other guests talking...what if...

His mind went blank as Sandra unfastened his belt and trousers, pulling them down to his ankles, followed by his boxer shorts, which were green and had a gold fish pattern on them - the well-known Christian symbol known as ichthys.

"My, aren't these interesting? Jim wears boring old briefs from Marks and Spencer. I guess you're wearing green ones because we're still in Ordinary Time? Do you wear purple underpants when it's Advent?"

"Um...er, yes." He loosened his clerical collar, which was threatening to choke him.

His cock stood out proud in front of him and she gasped at the size of it fully erect.