I spent the day in the garden, doing general autumn tiding. And the evening was just relaxing with a book. Wednesday morning was also a non-event, not just because it was raining, but it was one of those days when everything you touch just goes wrong. Nothing of any real consequence, but just one of those days when you feel down. Eventually came the time when I needed to set off to see the vicar, and reluctantly, I set off to the village hall.
I'd read the vicar's note which Adam had given me, and now as I parked my car, I was about to follow his instructions.
Apparently, at the back of the grounds of the village hall, there is a gate which leads to a pathway through a small wooded area. And only a hundred yards further on, at the other end of this pathway, the gate then lets you into the graveyard behind the church. And being as by road, the church and village hall are on different roads, some mile and a half apart, the vicar wanted me to park at the village hall, and then take this pathway, and enter by the vestry door at the back of the church.
In this manner, if anyone saw my car at the village hall, they wouldn't connect me, with the vicar whose car was parked in the church car park. Especially as, both of these gates would normally be pad-locked. But the vicar had said he'd make sure they were both unlocked today.
And as I reached the first gate, the pad-lock was just looped through the chain, giving the impression of being locked, whilst allowing me easy access. This was the same at the second gate, and I was soon opening the vestry door. This was a big very thick wooden door, and it creaked on its hinges like a castle door in a horror movie. As I walked in, the noise had alerted the vicar, and he came over to meet me.
"Come in my dear, I'll lock that behind you. We don't want to be disturbed."
And so he locked the door, and put the big key back onto the hook on the wall. As I looked around this big stone walled room with its heavy oak tables and just one leather padded chair, a shiver went down my spine. This is a church; and I'm in the back room, one that is normally used by couples as they sign the register, on completion of their marriage ceremony. The thought of having sex, and illicit sex at that, with a vicar, felt overwhelmingly irreverent.
As I looked at the vicar's face, he must have recognised my concern, "Why so down my dear? After the lecture I gave your husband on Sunday, I'd have thought you'd have come to this task god has given you, with a glad heart."
"Oh please vicar; don't say things like that. This is bad enough already without blaspheming."
"Blaspheming? I'm not doing anything of the sort. God gave me these urges, and he also worked out our lives so our paths would cross, at a time when you would be made available to fulfil my needs. We shouldn't try to fathom out his reasons, but when called upon, we should give graciously. Now come on, I'll take you to where we'll do it."
So without questioning his somewhat self-centred reasoning, I followed him into the church proper. This didn't feel right, and I just knew I wouldn't be able to get aroused, and therefore it would be a really difficult time. We passed the altar, and then went in between the two rows of tiered seating for the choir.
And then he opened the little half gate into the choir stalls, and behind the back row of seating, pushed the wooden panel as at the same time he turned a candle holder on the wall. The panel moved, and the large panel to the right swung open like a door.
The vicar turned with a big smile on his face, obviously wanting to see my reaction. "You didn't expect that, did you my dear?"
I didn't speak, but just stood there and shook my head. It was dark the other side of the now open panel, and I didn't like the thought of going in there. But the vicar just turned back and ducking his head, stepped inside. Almost as soon as he'd done so, the room lit up. I couldn't see much as the panel was lower than a normal door, and not as wide, but from what I could see, there was shelving on the walls and boxes on the floor.
I'd stopped outside in the middle of the aisle, and I'd expected the vicar to beckon me to follow him in. But not looking forwards to going in there, I was hesitantly just waiting and looking. Then as I watched the opening, out came a wooden bench. And by the time it was half way out, the vicar who was carrying it re-appeared.
It was wide in parts, and the vicar had to manoeuvre it carefully through the narrow opening. But from the dexterity he displayed, I guessed he'd done this before. He carried the bench out and placed it on the floor right in the space in front of the altar.
And now I could see the bench properly, I'll describe it. Because it wasn't your everyday, common or garden variety. In fact I've never seen anything like it before nor since.
It stood about eighteen inches off the floor on stout wooden legs. It was covered in red velvet, with brass studs holding the cloth to the sides. And under the velvet, it was padded out in strategic positions. And worryingly, there were also leather straps and buckles in ominous places.
"Right my dear, I know its not super warm in here, but I've had the heating on all morning. That was why I told you not to come until twelve. But at least it's taken the damp chill off. So if you'd like to get undressed."
I took off my coat, and looked where I should put it; it seemed so disrespectful just dumping it on the floor.
He lifted across a small padded stool, "Here you are my dear. We won't be at it long enough for them to get creased. I'm not one of your young bucks you know."
So gradually I stripped off until I was naked, and then he held his hand out and guided me to the bench. He sat me down, and then lay me back, taking each arm in turn, and strapping me down with the leather restraints around my wrists. He then lifted my feet, and this positioned my bottom up onto one of the padded areas.
Then came a big surprise.
He reached under the side of the bench, and swung out a beam diagonally upwards, hinged from a position somewhere under the bench, around the position my bottom was in. This also had its own leather strap, which was soon buckled around one ankle. And then he repeated the same the other side.
So now I'm held spread-eagled in front of the centre of the altar, my open legs facing the main part of the church where the congregation would normally be seated.
Then the vicar walked past me up to the altar, where he picked up his stole, kissed it, and said his blessings; very much in the same manner as he would do on a Sunday morning, at the start of the service.
He made his way around to the valley of my legs, where he then began to pour the contents of a gold gobbet onto my pubic mound. As it touched my flesh, it ran in both directions. That is to say, down across my tummy, and also into the valley of my pussy.
It initially struck cold on my naked flesh, but in seconds, he'd placed the gobbet down and was busy working the oily liquid into my pussy.
What the substance was, I have no idea, but as well as being oily, it instantly began to inflame my pussy. Which then began to throb, and a few seconds later it was pouting wildly.
He stood up, and raised his hands, and chanted something. I couldn't understand a word of what he'd said, so I assumed it must have been Latin. This whole thing was so bizarre; like some kind of pagan ritual, with me as the sacrifice.
And then after one last blessing which I could understand, "May the lord make me truly thankful for what I am about to receive. Amen."
He lifted his cassock to reveal his naked lower body, with his cock standing proud.
I needn't have worried about not being able to get aroused, because as soon as his cock began probing my hole, my body began to heave uncontrollably. He fucked slowly, with deep plunging strokes, and my senses were uncontrollable.
It was fairly obvious that whatever that liquid was, it was that, which was responsible for my arousal, and trance-like state. But I wasn't the only one who was under a spell. As the vicar was humping away, his face was pointing up to the church roof; as he again chanted gibberish.
So with us both otherwise engaged, as you might say, I guess it's not surprising that neither of us noticed Len! Well, I guess we did eventually. But not until he'd unlocked the main church door, entered and re-locked it, and made his way to where the vicar and I were hard at it.
And even then, it was only the flash and the popping noise of his flashbulb as he took pictures of us. I don't know how many he'd taken before the penny dropped, but as I realised, it transported me down to earth with a bump.
But the vicar either hadn't noticed, or wasn't concerned. As he kept pumping and chanting.
I cried out, "Vicar stop. Stop please. Wake-up vicar."
It seamed it didn't matter what I said, or how loud I called out. And as I looked at Len's face, he was smiling with a devilish grin. I began to think this had all been arranged, and the vicar was enjoying my plight as much as Len was.
And then the vicar froze. He went rigid, not even pulling his cock out. Only his head turned.
