The Vicar's Wife

THE VICAR’S DAUGHTER

Emily woke with a start, her heart beating heavily, her mouth dry, beads of cold perspiration on her forehead. She was shivering. The nightmare had been terrifying. Now awake, she couldn't recall what it was that scared her so - only that she was frightened out of her wits!

All she remembered was that an alien torturer was about to grab her. Crush her to death. She felt cold. Opening one eye, she turned her head to look at the clock on her bedside table. It showed 5.45. All was dark and silent. There was the smell of panic all round her. It invaded her lungs. It was her own perspiration she could smell. A foreboding of evil was oppressive.

The bedclothes were pulled up to her chin. Her eyes, wary and afraid, darted from side to side, trying to penetrate the darkness. A sudden sighing sound sent shivers of terror through her. Who was in the room? Surely there was someone there. Who? Where? She could hear it breathing - or was it her own panting, her heavy heartbeats thudding in her ribs? Perhaps it was the wind getting up outside. Emily held her breath, straining every nerve to catch the slightest movement of the air - the slightest noise.

Nothing!

She was desperate for company. Afraid of being alone any longer. When she was a girl, she would creep into he parents bed when she felt frightened. That's it. That's what she would do. She quietly slid her legs over the side of the bed, folded back the bedclothes before sitting silently for a moment on the edge.

After holding her breath again, straining every nerve until she was satisfied there was nothing in the room with her, Emily crept stealthily to the door. She opened it, standing for a few seconds to listen to the sounds of the house, before softly opening the door of the next room. The soothing sound of her father's regular breathing reached her ears.

Emily tip-toed to the side of the bed, suddenly remembering that her mother was away for the week-end with her friend, Lady Sarah. Emily lifted the side of the bed-sheets and slid herself into the bed, lying back with a sigh of relief at the side of her sleeping father. It felt warm and comforting.

As a child, Emily had often joined her parents in bed some mornings, before getting up. Even when she got older, she still slipped in between them in their king-sized bed from time to time. It was their way of bonding. They would chat and giggle - even indulge in tickling matches - until her father or mother went to make a cup of tea. They took it in turns, which left Emily with her father some mornings for a cuddle and quiet chat. He was a parish priest. An understanding sort of figure.

She could tell her father anything - well, almost! The same with her mother. They were a close-knit family altogether.

It was during those early snuggles between them that Emily loved to get her head under the sheets and smell the heady aroma of her parents bodies. She would inhale deeply as the warmth of her mum and dad pressed against her. Some mornings, before getting into their bed, she would hesitate at the door, listening to them grunting and moaning. Peeking round the door she saw her father bouncing on her mother for a while.

When he finished moving, that was when she slipped in between them, where the scent would be stronger than usual, and she would touch her father's wiggley worm, as she called it. It felt warm and sticky. Her mother would be chuckling happily as she whispered in her father's ear that his rod and shaft, they comforted her. Her father would admonish her for saying things like that. But her mum still chuckled.

'That's what God gave it for darling,' she whispered. 'And it does comfort me. Often! Thank you.'

And Emily would be aware of her mother squeezing her father's worm. Emily was too young to understand these strange words, but she would often steal a caress of her father's body, which happened to include his penis, while her mother was making the tea. Of course, it was only out of curiosity.

But it was fascinating for Emily. Sometimes it felt bigger than at others. She marvelled at it, and the forest of hair surrounding its base. Her father did nothing to prevent her, allowing his daughter to fondle it at will. It was, after all, part of her education, though Emily knew not to let her mother know about it. It was an unspoken secret between father and daughter. She had secrets with her mother as well.

Even when Emily reached puberty, she would continue to cuddle up between her parents in their bed. She loved to put her arms round her mother's warm body, pressing herself against the large soft breasts. She would steal a look at the large dark nipples, with their long, wrinkled brown teats, knowing that as a baby, she would have suckled them.

Her mother had allowed her to suck on them gently while father was making the tea, from an early age. In fact, Emily could not remember a time when she didn't suckle her mother's teats occasionally. She would be held tight against her mother's breast, her hand stroking the warm silky skin of her belly, aware of the rough hair as it reached the groin, thick and bushy. She knew her mother enjoyed her doing it, even though she said nothing.

On this particular morning, Emily turned on her side facing away from her father, curling her body to fit into the angle of his sleeping form. It was so peaceful, warm and relaxing. She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to drift in a state of semi-consciousness.

Lying beside her warm father, her thoughts drifted back to her mother, recollecting how her mum had helped and encouraged a young man from the church choir, whose parents apparently ignored him. It was rumoured that she had allowed the young man to have sex with her, but Emily could hardly believe that. Not her mother, she told herself.

Even so, the images of her being shagged by a youth like Fergie, his long cock banging in and out of her mother's wet vagina, accompanied by moans of pleasure and grunts of delight were vivid. And now her mother was spending the weekend in London with her friend, Lady Sarah. Her mind pondered the possibility of them having a thing going between them.

As the thoughts drifted from one sexual image to another, her hand had strayed between her thighs, cupping the warm, damp, hairy vulva. Hmm! She enjoyed sex very much, with few inhibitions to deter her, even though her father was a priest. Her own self ministrations were equally satisfying.

It was her Aunt Angie who had first talked to her about sex and the female body. Her Aunt had once, several years ago, disturbed Emily whilst she was sniffing her mother's soiled knickers. Emily was intrigued by her mother's stained panties, and loved to smell their pungent scent. That embarrassing event had resulted in her aunt sitting beside her on her bed, explaining about the vulva, the secretions from the vagina and orgasms, and how it was no sin to bring them about yourself.

As an illustration, Aunt Angie had removed her own knickers to demonstrate. Emily still recalled her surprise at seeing her Aunt's vulva, as she peeled off her knickers, exposing a mass of tangled auburn hair. She was great, her aunt Angie. There was no embarrassment whatsoever.

Emily loved talking about sex with her, though she never admitted knowing that her cousin Fergie had fucked his mum. In any case, she hadn't know whether or not to believe Fergie when he told her having had sex with his her. Though he had known about the colour of her pubic hair. But being a red-head, that's not surprising. Still, Emily could believe it of them. Certainly, Fergie knew what to do when it came to sexual intercourse.

Emily wriggled her bottom into the hollow of her father's body, pushing against his groin to snuggle into him. It was then she realised that his penis was stiff. Pressing into the cleft of her bottom. It felt nice. She hadn't really noticed his arm being thrown over her, the hand resting on her right breast. Emily had inherited her mother's sizeable breasts and large areola with long nipples.

She loved her tits. They were adorable - sensitive and pliable. She would always stimulate them during masturbation, feel then hardening, as she rubbed her clitoris, to help bring about her orgasms.

Her dreaming mind drifted to memories of the party in the students' union bar lounge a couple of weeks earlier. She was having a quiet drink on the Friday evening with her friend Susan. Most students had gone home for the weekend, but they were staying at college to do some much needed revision for their impending exams. The bar was quieter than usual, with trendy music coming over the speaker system.

Two young men from the medical faculty, armed with beers, strolled across to join them for a chat. Meanwhile, a party of other women students was having a good time at the other end of the lounge. There were gales of laughter filling the air. It was the hen night of one of the women lecturers, due to get married the following day, and who now was getting rather drunk - well, they all were. When into their midst came a well-built young fellow, who started stripping in front of the bride-to-be, to the rhythm of the music blaring out.

A male stripper had been ordered for the hen party celebrations. Emily and her friends watched with growing amusement and surprise as the stripper removed one garment after another until only his jock strap remained, hiding a sizable bulge inside it. To a chorus of 'Gerrem off' from the girls, he teased them with twisting round - first to show his bare bottom, then lowering the waist band to expose his bare hairless groin - until he finally whipped them away altogether to show his naked loins.

Not a hair to be seen. His substantial penis was half filled, lolling about, as he swayed his hips in front of the bride-to-be. Encouraged by the jibes of her friends, the bride took hold of the man's shaft, drawing it towards her face, laughing. Cheered on by the other guests, after toying with it with obvious relish, she took it in her mouth, giving it a few jerks with her hand to stiffen it up.

As she played with his weapon, the man slid his hand down over the front of her T-shirt until it reached the hem. Grasping it, he pulled it high over her breasts. In the same movement, his hands dipped into the cups of her bra to lever the boobs free from their confines. Mountains of soft flesh, topped with pink nipples slipped into view.

Emily's dreamy thoughts changed to the mental image of the drunken girl, now naked, bending over the table being shagged violently by the strip-artist, whilst a second girl was fellating another guy who had appeared, with trousers round his ankles, his cock sticking out of his underwear. All the other girls were cheering them on. 'Go for it Mavis,' was the cry. Though which of them was Mavis, Emily was uncertain.

Whilst this sexual activity was unravelling before them, the guys sitting alongside Emily had put an arm round her shoulder. Whilst they laughed at the antics being played out at the other end of the bar, the bride-to-be being shagged by the strip artist, Emily felt the hand slip down the top of her own T-shirt to explore her right breast, with its sizeable nipple now hard with arousal.

The next image in her dreamy state, was of the guy standing beside her, with one foot on the seat, his bare cock, with foreskin retracted, pointing at her face. As she sucked on it, her memory skipped to him fucking her whilst the other guy screwed Susan in an alcoholic haze. She was really turned on, vagina oozing freely. All she remembered later was the sperm spraying over her belly and pubic hair. Susan was being similarly soaked.

The action across the room had become more of an orgy, with other male students getting in on the act. Half-naked bodies were grappling together. Breasts were being fondled, cocks squeezed. Some were inserted in the passageway made for them by nature, others being jerked and sucked. The bride-to-be was now being shagged by the barman, cock sticking out of his trousers, with sounds of pleasure from her.

Emily was now in a fuddled state, with her aroused body eager for sex. The two men were only too happy to oblige. They changed partners and Emily was fucked on the floor by the other guy whilst Susan, equally unsteady, was bent over the table, to be shagged by Emily's first partner. It was a good feeling at the time, as being fucked always is for her, but the following day, as she masturbated in bed, Emily could hardly recall very clearly the real action.

As these sexy events unfolded in her memory, Emily's aroused mind returned to the present. Her vulva was already slippery with her juices leaking into the palm of her hand. She wondered if the bride-to-be had looked like a true virgin at the altar beside her loving husband.

But gosh! It was with a feeling of surprise, that she realised her father's stiff was pressing against her warm flesh. It wasn't the first time Emily had felt that cock, though on previous occasions it had been a fond touch of a flaccid shaft. But this time... Emily thought, what if... but heavens above... no, he wouldn't. Although... it might be rather fun to feel it inside her. To feel the cock that had penetrated her mother on countless occasions... filled her with its semen. Emily wondered how it would feel. Not just another cock... this one would be something very special... something quite extraordinary.

She was curious to find out. Her hand cupping her vulva now reached further between her legs to find the heat of her father's testicles. After a moment's hesitation, she took the base of the shaft between thumb and fingers, easing it into the moist crack of her vulva. Her hand rested on the underside of the solid shaft now nestling between her labia, reaching as far as her clitoris. She pressed it cautiously against the soft damp lips of her vulva. Hmmm! That felt nice. It was thicker than she had imagined. Not as long as Fergie's, but much, much thicker.

Holding her breath, Emily listened... The even breathing told her that her father was still sleeping. He probably imagined that Emily was her mother, she thought. Perhaps, for a few moments, she could play the part. Her mind was in turmoil. Her mouth had dried, her heart was beating hard.

Well, she thought, if Fergie can fuck his mother and get away with it, I can fuck my dad. That's if he's willing... though being half asleep, he may not be aware that it's his daughter he's penetrating. Pulling her nightie clear, Emily wriggled her bottom a little to position the head of the penis against the oily entrance to her vagina.

All it needed now, was a slight push downwards for her to be impaled. Of course, Emily wasn't to know that this wriggling of the bottom was a little trick her mother used when she wanted early morning sex from her husband.

And it worked. Emily pressed against her father's groin and felt the head of his penis enter her private tunnel of pleasure. She held her breath. Her heart was beating with excitement - and anticipation. What would he say if he woke up to find himself filling his daughter's vagina? Should she continue?

Oh well, she thought, she could always feign sleep. And having got this far, she was reluctant to turn back. As she pondered, her bottom wriggled and pushed a bit more, feeling the erect cock slide another inch into her vagina, now soaked with her juices. Oh, wonderful! The thick shaft was half inside her already. Thrilling! Her body was responding.

Well, of course it was! There was a fluttering in the pit of her belly. Her mouth had become dry. Her breathing was shallow. Eyes tight shut, concentrating now on that unique sensation of a cock invading her privacy, slowly filling her natural cavity with the flesh designed for it, Emily quietly purred to herself. Gosh! Her father's cock deep inside his daughter.

Aaaah! It was mind-blowing! Her many earlier fantasies of this very event had not prepared her for the enormity of the real thing. It was simply staggering. She almost had an orgasm there and then.

Peter had been vaguely aware of Emily coming into the bedroom. The movement of air as the door opened aroused him from a deep sleep. He half opened one eye to look at the luminous green figures on the clock radio on the beside table. Nearly six o'clock. He closed his eye again as he saw out of the corner of his eye, his daughter approaching the side of the bed. She paused for a moment before lifting the sheets to slide her body in beside him.

Perhaps she can't sleep, he guessed, and needs some comfort. Probably forgot that her mother was away - until entering the bedroom, that is. Well, providing she doesn't wriggle about, he didn't mind. He started to doze off again. It was some time since his little girl had joined them in their bed. She was grown up now, of course, but still enjoyed the occasional morning cuddle with her mum and dad between their sheets. And so did they. It was a way of bonding as a family.

Their tickling sessions used to be wild events, he remembered dreamily, often resulting in pyjamas in disarray and tickling fingers reaching sensitive bits of each other's body which should have remained private. But tickling fingers knew no physical barriers!

So his naked body was no stranger to Emily, though not, he thought, his full erection. Nor was hers a stranger to him. He had glimpsed her soft large breasts with their well-defined areola and long wrinkled nipples, and her hairy groin. She took after her mother. Large breasted and hairy. He liked that. He liked hairy women.

His sluggish mind settled on Alice Jebson, a widow with a very heavy patch of thick hair round her genitals. When aroused, the fur around her vulva, and below its base, would become clotted with her thick juices. Her vulva became brim-full with her starch-like secretions. They fascinated Peter. He had always been intrigued by vaginal juices. His mind flickered momentarily on his wife also oozed freely.

Penetrating Alice's lubricated passage was so easy - so warm and silky - smearing a generous coating of her secretions on his shaft. Alice was noisy as well. Mmmm. But Dorothy Jones, his other willing parishioner, a single woman and teacher at the local school, had but a sparse covering of hair on her groin. Nevertheless, she could certainly perform. She was extremely physical, insatiable for his cock - perhaps other men's as well for all he knew.

Dorothy admitted being captivated by the penis. Both ladies were in their early fifties - and totally discreet of course! Peter wasn't sure why they had surfaced in his semi-conscious mind, but his penis was reacting to the salacious thoughts of those two ladies - lying naked on their beds, thighs wide apart, their vulvas on full display, anxiously waiting to be penetrated.

Peter was now aware of the warm female body snuggled against his. The exchange of bodily heat between the unfamiliar bodies was causing a natural exchange of sexual arousal. He could sense the acute physical chemistry building up between them. The heat growing in his loins. It was natural that his sexual vibes would come alive, eager to explore the female's response to the unspoken question.

They were desperate for each other. Their relationship was immaterial. Theirs were just two uneasy bodies of opposite poles, exploring, testing reactions, wanting - attracting each other in the way nature intended. It was a process Peter was happy to permit in his half-dreaming state. Another female to penetrate was a happy prospect.

Without thinking, Peter draped his arm over Emily, his hand resting on the fullness of her right breast. It seemed the natural thing to do. After all, he was vaguely imagining that the body lying in the contours of his, was that of his wife, wriggling her bottom closer to his groin. She always did this when feeling sexy - an early morning ache. Perhaps she too was dreaming, he thought - dreaming of cock - maybe that of the young man she'd seduced in their last parish - such an embarrassment.