The Reverend John Petersen
Our sexual activities continued to develop as that summer progressed. Katherine and I continued to fuck each other in my flat whenever Dot was absent, which was most of the time. It was high season in the real estate business and she was busy. Mrs. Wilkins continued to drop in to Katherine's office at the church with "invitations"—thinly veiled threats, really—to more sex sessions at her house.
We were able to beg off several of them when Dot demanded our time for suppers out on the town or shopping trips to London. Mrs. Wilkins herself realized that her voyeuristic sessions had to be kept secret from Dot like any other relative of the participants, so she accepted our absences.
However, we did end up at three more sessions, during which I did get to fuck Patricia of the honey blonde pussy, Sofia of the big, black pussy, and Heidi, Mrs Wilkins' niece who had started it all. She was tall and well built like her aunt with wide hips, a pneumatic tummy when you lay on her naked body, and a big, wet cunt fringed with red-brown pubic hair.
At the second session, Mrs. Wilkins welcomed another newcomer couple, and as his reward for sharing his woman sexually, the lubricious gentleman newcomer chose Katherine to fuck in front of all the others. She does have the most luscious pussy, of course. I could see why he lusted after her once he had seen me pistoning my cock in and out of that pubic wonderland.
But Katherine wasn't at all pleased. She was getting all the sex she wanted with me, and she didn't like having her nakedness displayed to others, especially strange men. Moreover, she resented Mrs. Wilkins deeply, complaining bitterly to me in private about being forced into public displays of sexual behaviour. She was also having trouble keeping the secret of our Wilkins public sex sessions from Dot, who liked Katherine to share intimate details of her sexual relations with me.
I didn't want Dot to know about my fucking women other than the agreed-upon Katherine, not being sure how she would react. I rationalized that it couldn't last; the young couples would get bored or move away to jobs in the city. Then the secret could remain between Katherine and me, and I counselled her so.
Then one day, Katherine broke the news that the church had hired a new minister, the Reverend John Petersen, and that this event had stimulated a great deal of interest among parishioners. I couldn't know at the time where this would take Katherine and me. Like many great and disastrous adventures, this one began with a simple news item: St. Paul's Church wishes to announce the calling of Reverend John Petersen to the ministry.
I should have known something was afoot, because it was Mrs. Wilkins who had first advanced Petersen's name. He was, she argued to anyone who would listen, the only clerical candidate who was available and had applied with the right qualifications, the kind of training and experience that the church—Mrs. Wilkins, really, since she chaired the hiring committee and bullied its members—was looking for.
The hiring committee all agreed that it was a miracle that such a handsome, talented clergyman and his beautiful, young wife would be willing to move from their lovely estate home in Lancashire here to Brighton and Hove to take up the mantle left by the doddery old Reverend Donaldson.
Upon arrival, Katherine informed us, Petersen had immediately ingratiated himself with the church committees, and his vivacious blonde wife had taken charge of the Sunday school, which had being suffering from neglect in recent years.
However, many of the old guard at the church had experienced considerable consternation at his progressive methods and attitudes. In his first sermon, he had used some slang terms and suggested that it was the Christian thing to set aside our differences with one another and get to know each other better in some really personal ways.
At the reception after the service, he was seen to pat his wife's curvaceous backside as she served coffee. Later the women's auxiliary chairperson complained that he had been huddling a little too closely in his office with one of the female parishioners, who was a buxom brunette with wide hips and a breezy, outgoing manner. Oddly enough, Katherine reported, Mrs. Wilkins didn't seem to be at all upset as she reported the salacious details of his doings while she sat on the corner of Katherine's desk.
Then one day, Katherine had a phone message to relay to the minister and was walking up the back stairs to his office when she heard voices through his closed office door. It was Mrs. Wilkins and the minister.
She seemed to be saying, "I know what you've been up to" and "Really? Video, you say."
He seemed to be saying "It's quite all right, you know" and "It's all very hush hush. We're being very discreet and careful who we allow. No one will ever know." Katherine wanted to hear more, but she heard the church choir master coming along the adjoining corridor, so she retreated back downstairs to her office.
In the weeks that followed, Katherine found the minister in her office more and more. What's more, he became quite familiar with her. Not that his advances were unwelcome. He was very handsome, always well dressed and smelling subtly of Jo Malone cologne. She found this very arousing and confessed to me that she didn't know what to do about it. He would lean close and brush his hand against her breast as he reached for a document on her desk. Or he would pat her buttocks as she reached a high shelf for a volume of church regulations he wanted.
She knew she shouldn't let him get away with this familiarity, but she knew he did it to other women in the church, women who were young and beautiful, so she took it as a tribute to her own pulchritude and let it go at that. At the same time, she told me she had heard rumours about some of the parties he and his wife, Janice, had thrown in their yard for the church wardens and heads of committees. Besides beer and sausages, they had served a heaping measure of libidinous talk and patting of private parts.
We were summoned to our third session at Mrs. Wilkins' house that September while Dot was away visiting relatives in Eastbourne. The fucking proceeded with the usual decorum, and Mrs. Wilkins had a particularly crashing orgasm as she watched a young black couple from the church fucking lustily before her on the blue satin mattress. No newcomers, so Katherine had to fuck only me in the presence of others, so she felt relieved that her embarrassment went only as far as being undressed and having sexual intercourse in front of people who were themselves naked, albeit they were all members of the same congregation at church and the same circle of Mrs. Wilkins initiates.
However, as we were getting dressed and preparing to depart, Mrs. Wilkins appeared in the kitchen doorway and summoned the two of us to a private conference in her kitchen. What she told us was shocking to our very marrow.
She informed us that the Reverend Mr. Petersen for the last several months had been holding secret meetings in the church with selected male members of the church board for the purpose of wild sexual activities with various female members of the congregation. Given the rumours flying around concerning his permissive attitudes, this shouldn't have been too shocking, but it was.
Then Mrs. Wilkins had to confess—she actually looked sheepish for the first time since I'd met her—that Mr. Petersen had found out about her little coterie of young swingers and her own masturbatory practices. So in this Mexican standoff of threats to expose each others' sexual proclivities and misbehaviour, they had reached an agreement.
Mr. Petersen would not expose Mrs. Wilkins and would provide her with the names of young couples who came to him for marriage counselling and who were good candidates for her circle of partner swappers. Mrs. Wilkins, on the other hand, would say nothing of his secret society of church perverts, and as a gesture of good will in return for his referrals to her circle of lust, she would send along females from her sex sessions to satisfy his lusts in his secret sex society meetings.
Mrs. Wilkins let this sink in for a moment. Katherine was looking bewildered, a kind of hunted look on her face, as if she was afraid of what was coming and didn't want to acknowledge it. I had a pretty good idea where Mrs. Wilkins was going with this, but I kept quiet. I suspected this might go somewhere very good for me.
"Now, Katherine," she began, "I've spoken to Reverend Petersen about you. It seems he's quite taken with you. And," she paused briefly, staring at Katherine, "it seems you are taken with him. Is that true?" So Katherine had to confess that she had allowed the young minister liberties with her body because he was handsome and charming and yes, dead sexy.
"Good," said Mrs. Wilkins. "Then you won't object if I give him your name as my first candidate for his .... er, attentions?"
Katherine stopped and stared at her. "What kind of attentions?" she asked in a dead voice, as if she already knew.
"Oh, just what you've been doing here, I think. You see, I haven't actually seen what he does with these women. I only know what he tells me."
She paused thoughtfully. "You know, he likes to say that he makes love to his women. That's rather sweet, don't you think?"
Katherine demanded, "What about the video?" Mrs. Wilkins pursed her lips and frowned. "What about video?" she repeated. I could see Mrs. Wilkins was being defensive, but Katherine had her this time.
"I heard you talking to Reverend Petersen in his office about video. Is he making pictures of his .... lovemaking?" she asked.
"Yes," said Mrs. Wilkins very slowly and cautiously. "I think he does."
"Does his wife know?" Katherine demanded.
Mrs. Wilkins actually chuckled. "Oh yes. In fact, I think she helps him with the camera. They're quite the liberal couple, my dear."
Katherine sat back to reflect. She had found that sex with me was very satisfying. The arrangement with Dot's consent relieved her of any guilt she might have felt. Thus, her life had become much less lonesome and frustrating, and her own fledgling counselling business was doing well.
Even the sex sessions with Mrs. Wilkins had lost their feeling of fear and shame, and she had come to acknowledge her own new sexual feelings as she watched other couples having sexual intercourse on that blue satin mattress.
So she now was able to acknowledge to Mrs. Wilkins her own attraction to Reverend Petersen. She looked at Mrs. Wilkins and nodded, albeit somewhat reluctantly. After all, Mrs. Wilkins still had incriminating photos and video of us naked with the implied threat of exposing us to Dot and to the congregation at large.
