This chapter continues the tale of John and Mrs Rawson the vicar's wife from previous chapters and his involvement with older ladies connected with the Church.
John, our eighteen year old schoolboy has been asked to give a guided tour of the parish church to a forty something year old American tourist.
Marie stood for a few moments looking at the spillage on the vestry floor and then turned and walked towards the door to the body of the church.
"What is that on the floor, John?" she asked with a glint in her eyes.
"I don't know Madam," I sheepishly replied, "maybe it's something connected with the flower arranging." I was blushing heavily, my face was burning.
"Well, it certainly did not look like water, John." Marie answered, "And please call me Marie."
"Would you like to see more of our church?" I asked her.
We had looked at the eastern end where there was the alter and the chancel and the beautiful windows. There was a list of vicars dating back to the 1400s and memorials to the local dignitaries and their families. She had also looked at the lists of the fallen from two world wars in case her family had lost a member then.
"Let's look at the tower now John," she asked "and is it possible to climb to the top?"
"Yes, we can do that, but the stairs are narrow and steep, so we must be careful." I replied.
We went to the partitioned room at the base of the tower where I had first observed Mrs. Rawson and Mr Wilson in that compromising situation which had led to my involvement with her. She went first and opened the door and then to the door which led to the stairs.
"Would you like to go first?" I asked and she agreed.
We started to mount the stairs slowly and she was three or four steps in front of me. I was presented with a stunning view of her legs. I could see up to her lower thighs and how enchanting it was. I wanted this view to go on forever. Her legs were quite slim and muscular. Her thighs widened out showing some tell tale signs of her age. She was not wearing any stockings.
We continued to rise and I slowed to let her get a couple more steps ahead which allowed me to view more of her thighs. She seemed oblivious to what was going on behind her. That soon changed as a draught wafted up the steep stairs causing her dress to rise allowing me a fleeting glimpse of her knickers. I saw the whole of her upper thighs and then her lovely pure white rather old fashioned knickers. They were satin; I discovered later and described as cami knickers. They were like little shiny shorts, quite roomy with embroidery around the bottom.
She half turned and looked down at me. I was looking straight up. Her dress was flared out. She must have known I could see her knickers and she smiled "Are you OK John."
I panted but could hardly speak so I just nodded.
She realised what had happened very quickly and pushed her skirt down with both her hands. In doing so she let go of the rope which was there to assist people in the ascent or descant of the tower. She stumbled a little on the uneven ancient brick stairs and I had to move swiftly to assist her. By now she had hold of the rope again and to steady herself. My assistance was not required but I did have hold of her waist which felt wonderful. The little bulge of her belly, the soft roll of her hips and the smell of her perfume thrilled me. One of her hands covered mine which I first thought was to remove it but no, it was a soft reassuring touch. She pressed my hand to her hip which was quite fleshy but felt soft. She was back on track now and turned around to thank me for helping.
The door at the base of the tower must have come open to allow the warm summer air to rise causing the draught which caught her light cotton pink dress. We took a few more steps and I got a little further behind again praying that the draught would reward me with a further view of her knickers.
Yes, I was rewarded with a soft upward breeze and her skirt rose to reveal those gorgeous thighs and knickers again. This time she kept hold of the rope and just carried on walking up the steps. We reached a platform and she stopped and pushed her skirt down. She looked out of a small window and she asked me to come close to look at the view of the English countryside through that very small aperture with her. She wanted to know about some landmarks visible from that side of the tower. Our bodies touched, it was electric and my heart was pounding. My mouth went dry and I noticed that she licked her lips as well.
We moved apart and she walked on up the steep and winding stairs. The breeze again caught her skirt and I was delighted to see her bottom with those exotic panties and this time I noticed that the gusset was drawn up between the crack in her buttocks. I could see wisps of dark hair.
Again she ignored the revealing of her most intimate under wear.
We eventually reached the summit of the tower and I had to squeeze by her to open the door to the viewing area at the top on the outside. She did not mind and just stood still. I brushed past her bottom and felt my semi-erect penis make contact against her rump.
We ventured out on to the roof of the tower where she admired the view and we were both absorbed by the quiet, solitude of that place. The wind caught her dress again and lifted it right up over her bottom, thus giving me a full view of those lovely mature thighs and her ample bottom filling her satin cami knickers. She did brush her dress down but only after I had seen the beautiful sight.
It was a beautiful sight on a warm sunny summer's day.
"Are you enjoying the view?" she said with a smile, looking down at her legs.
"Yes, very much," was my reply, but I was embarrassed and blushed again. I was nervous..
"You have been looking up my dress all the way up the stairs, haven't you, you naughty young man." She uttered sternly.
I looked down at my shoes and replied that it was not intentional.
"By the look of the bulge in your pants, I must assume that you liked what you saw." She replied in a less formal tone.
"Oh, I am sorry madam." I sheepishly responded.
"I would have expected nothing less form a young man who has just masturbated in the vestry." She added.
I blushed and looked down again.
"Was that lady I met in the church yard aware of your activity in the vestry?" She asked.
"No." was my sharp response.
"I may see her again tomorrow when I revisit this church when she is here arranging the flowers." She said. "Maybe I'll ask her."
I was glowing beetroot red by now and just did not know what to say or where to look.
"Does her husband know?" she asked.
I replied without thinking "No," and she looked at me with a surprised look and a smile.
"Ah, so you have been involved with her, she's a little old for you isn't she; old enough to be your mother?"
I said nothing, I had already said enough. She looked at me and I looked her in the eye. There was a moment's silence and she said, "Well?"
"Please don't tell." I pleaded, "We will both get into terrible trouble. "Imagine the consequences if my parents and friends know and if Mrs Rawson's husband finds out. It will finish us both locally."
"Did you say Mrs Rawson, John?"
"Yes Marie"
"The Vicars wife?"
I nodded. I felt so vulnerable. She, on the other hand seemed relaxed but more than just interested and was breathing heavily and licked her lips.
"How did it start?" She asked.
I told her the story about me peeping on Mr Wilson and Mrs Rawson and I how I had blackmailed her into having sex with me.
