The Reverend Tobias Whitmore was perplexed.
Not that this was a particularly unusual state of affairs for him, he mused, as his relatively short life seemed to be lived in a condition of relative confusion.
As the third son of a minor branch of a noble family with pretensions to faded gentility, he was always destined for the church from birth. This had nothing to do with his character, merely the state of his family’s finances. Bluntly, there was no money to afford any of the sons the leisurely life of a country gentleman, so some sort of socially respectable means of livelihood was essential.
His oldest brother would inherit the house and lands, and so spend his lifetime trying to maintain the upkeep of the property on a deeply curtailed budget. Tobias did not envy his position for one moment.
His next brother, Tom, was destined for the army, which suited his energetic nature. Tobias was very grateful he’d been born third, as he would have been even more perplexed on the battlefield than he was in the pulpit.
However, he pondered, he’d been less befuddled at his last post, as a curate in a busy parish in the manufacturing town of Birmingham. There was no time for bewilderment being second in command to a dedicated vicar and his hardworking wife. He’d just had to get on with it.
Then fate, in the shape of his redoubtable mama, had intervened. She may not have been able to gift her children wealth and status but she used every one of her well-connected relatives to further their vocations.
Rather than have her son stuck in his worthy parish amongst the poor, she’d had a word with her second cousin twice removed who was married to a canon. This was in order to give Tobias a timely leg up the ladder in case his career stalled before it had started.
So, Tobias had found himself removed to a country parish, strictly on a short-term basis, while waiting for the retirement of a vicar in a nearby town. Once this occurred, he could take over that promotion and establish himself as someone in small-town society.
That was the master plan, but in the meantime, Tobias was bewildered at the drastic change in his life. He felt as though he had been plucked from a grey winter in the middle of a grey town dealing with a grey populace on a worthy treadmill of timetabled duties.
All of a sudden, he was in the depths of the sleepy countryside bursting with spring life. The sun was shining, buds were bursting, the birds were singing, sap was rising and he had very little to occupy his time.
If that were not perplexing enough, then the ladies of Lesser Witteringly added to his befuddlement. As a not unbecoming young man, brought amongst them as a temporary measure, it was no wonder that he got a certain amount of attention from the local gentry.
But the ladies, in particular, seemed to view him as a novel diversion, and it didn’t help that he found them all oh, so distracting.
Even in the depths of his libidinous daze, he realised that they were toying with him by design. It was all done subtly and within the mode of country fashions, but there seemed to be far more cleavage on display than was normal. He felt this especially keenly, as an active young man with not enough to do. He could not help but notice.
Of course, the womenfolk marked his attentions and upped the ante, so he became even more diverted by the glories of their curvaceous forms. It seemed that wherever his gaze turned in the warm spring sunshine, there were bosoms.
There were the slight but noticeable curves of young matrons that seem to be thrust up particularly for his regard. These glories vied with the plump cushions of women with burgeoning families, and then there were the deeply corseted billows belonging to knowing ladies of maturity.
The range was dazzling: round, pointed, pear-shaped, slight and full. They all seemed to be on deliberate, delectable display.
Not even regularly shaking hands with the bishop in the privacy of his cottage on a nightly and morning basis seemed to help with his glazed response to the charms of the ladies and their bouncing, trussed up, overflowing bodices.
His eyes were transfixed and he couldn’t stop looking, which only encouraged them. He felt like a helpless mouse being teased by a bevy of naughty, merciless kittens. Even in his perplexed state, he could sense they were ganging up on him, giggling at him behind his back and encouraging each other to further mischief.
One Sunday during the morning service, Tobias had proof that more plotting for his discomfort was in play.
The delicious Mistress Harbury sat modestly in one of the front pews next to her elderly husband. She looked as fresh and wholesome as a ripe peach. Tobias admired her pretty face beneath the chip straw hat and was mightily relieved she had a fine, woven shawl about her comely shoulders to stave off the chill from the old stones of the church.
On signal, he went up to give the reading from Genesis, and as he started, to his utter discombobulation, Madam Harbury slipped the shawl from her shoulders.
Her Sunday dress was all that it should be, patterned cambric, corsetted under the bust, but her neckcloth was not so circumspect. Although it crossed modestly at the base of her throat it was made of the finest, gauzy cotton.
As if on cue, once exposed to the icy temperature, her full rosebuds began to rise inevitably. They poked insolently and pinkly against the fabric and gave the impression she was not covered up at all.
Tobias gaped, gulped and began:
“And out of the ground the LORD God formed every breas - beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them: and whatsoever Adam called every living creature, that was the name thereof.”
He did not dare look at Mistress Harbury and just concentrated on keeping his voice from going up two octaves. He was deeply thankful unto God that the ancient pulpit came to above his waist level.
Once he had finished the reading, he descended from the pulpit on shaky legs. Sitting down, he mused that bosoms were bad enough for his composure, but near-naked nipples made his mind go blank.
As he stood to greet the parishioners as they exited the church porch, his heart lurched as the Harbury's came nearer. He shook Mister Harbury’s hand and having exchanged a few words with him, the couple went to walk on. Mistress Harbury glanced back at him briefly.
Under the brim of her hat, her bright eyes were alive with lascivious calculation. As his heart sank, his cock twitched in anticipation for what the ladies plotted for him next.
This delightfully tortuous suspense did not last too long. The next afternoon shortly after midday, Mistress Harbury arrived at accompanied by another young married lady, Mrs Ransome whose spouse was a middle-aged, red-faced squire. As it was such a beautiful day, they asked the curate to take a walk with them, in order to explain the finer points of the Sunday sermon.
He had no parish duties to attend to and thought no harm could come of accompanying two ladies rather than the danger of being alone with one. So he gladly accepted their invitation, privately relieved that today, Mistress Harbury’s shawl was firmly tied around her shoulders.
However, as they walked along the riverside and engaged in conversation, he gradually became Tobias to the ladies and they became Jane and Sally to him. Unsurprisingly, the finer points of the sermon remained resolutely undiscussed.
After walking for some little while, they reached a shady grove, and by mutual agreement sat on the grassy bank to rest. With a lovely girl sitting demurely on either side of him, Tobias was thinking what a pleasant interlude this was.
Then, with a calculating look, Jane suddenly asked him if his duties extended to counselling in marriage. Tobias gulped.
“Well,” he began cautiously, “as an unmarried man, I don’t think I am in the position to...”
He trailed off as Jane released the knot which held her shawl together and revealed that she wore no covering kerchief at all.
Her bared breasts rose, firm and glorious from the confines of her corset, topped with mouth-wateringly pink peaks.
Not to be outdone, on his other side, there was a rustling of fabric as Sally’s hands delved into her dress and Tobias watched, spellbound, as one, then two plump bosoms slid over the neckline of her gown with a triumphant plop.
Once revealed for his delectation, it seemed churlish not to salute each perfect pair with kisses and caresses. Before he could think straight, the girls’ dresses had ridden up to their hips and both pairs of hands were on his breeches buttons.
Then there was a dazzling moment when both ladies seemed to be squabbling over who would mount their ready prize first. Jane seemed to win the argument, and he got the glorious view of her perfect form, skirts up to her waist, breasts quivering as she slid slowly down his aching pole.
All of a sudden, that vista disappeared as Sally took her frustrations into her own hands and mounted his face, her skirts covering him.
Despite his impeded vision, his hands were free to caress bare skin and each glorious pair, as both ladies bounced up and down with increasing ardour. Nothing had prepared him for the glory of this escapade, which up to this point had consisted of occasional fumblings with a randy laundress in his university days.
Sally gave a delicious whimper as her rounded thighs clamped against his cheeks and she gasped and gushed for him delightfully. At the same time, Jane rode him hard and tensed on his swollen cock with a sharp cry of pleasure.
This combination nearly sent him over the edge and so there was a hurried uncoupling and both pairs of feminine hands stroked him to his own furiously spurting release.
For a moment, he thought he had been struck blind with pleasure. Then Sally removed her skirt from his face and he blinked in the bright sunshine
After such intense enjoyment, there were grateful kisses and caresses for each lady, anointing each sumptuous peak, enjoying the spectacle of their beautiful bodies, thighs parted, juicy lips on show.
Jane was the first to break up the spell of bucolic cupidity.
“We’d better get going,” she said firmly.
Tobias looked at her sadly as she pulled her dress down, covering up those long, elegant legs.
Then she added with a glint, “You’re due at Nellie Brownlee’s before teatime so you’ll need your energy.”
He gawked at both girls and they giggled.
Mrs Brownlee was a well-upholstered widow of middle years who lived just outside the village. Although her charms may not have had the youthful freshness of Sally and Jane’s, they were certainly capacious. Tobias imagined those full beauties bared to his greedy gaze and overflowing his grasping hands. His languor suddenly departed.
“You’re going to have your work cut out this summer,” Jane said, throwing her shawl over her shoulders and securing it firmly.
“Make hay while the sun shines,” Sally added demurely, tucking her breasts back into her bodice.
They pulled him to his feet laughingly and they tidied each other, buttoning up and brushing down their clothes. The happy threesome began to walk back along the peaceful riverbank, while the birds sang all around them.
As they strolled along, Tobias with a lovely lass on each arm, he thought that this might not be exactly God’s service; but servicing the ladies of Lesser Witteringly certainly was a heavenly prospect.
Leela
- 04.04.2020
- 5
- 0
- Category:
- Historical
