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Sunday morning, I woke from a pleasantly erotic dream to find that, yes indeed, Teri was practising her oral talents on my hard cock. As soon as she realised I was awake, she shifted to straddle and ride me. She took my hands as I reached out and pressed them to her breasts. "Fill me up, darling, before I have to get up."
Is there a better way to be woken? If so, I can't think of one. "I love you," I told her as I felt the sap rising.
She smiled. "I know. I'm a very happy girl. Don't fight it. Just come in my tight pussy..." So I did. Rather strongly. "Good boy," she said. "Now come and wash my back."
That was even better, though we didn't do anything more than soap each other and fondle in the process. Back in our bedroom, Teri laid out my 'ministerial' suit – something I didn't usually wear even when I was actively preaching – dark grey, with a waistcoat.
"I don't wear that except for funerals!"
"Yes, you do, today. Image, darling. I'll bet the Nazarene people wouldn't even listen to you if you don't. It'll still be up to you to hold their attention." She laid out a flowery patterned summer dress with a round neckline – no, absolutely no – décolletage, and a hat? A light cream coloured, somewhat floppy, brimmed hat.
"Teri ... a hat?" She was fastening her bra, having stepped into matching panties and looked at me. I went on, "I thought we were going to just be ourselves?"
She dropped the dress over her head and shook herself so it settled about her; it reached her knees and the sleeves stopped half-way down her upper arms. "We are," she said, reaching for a fabric belt and cinching it round her waist. It emphasised her figure, while remaining overall a demure impression. "We're just... 'not causing our brothers and sisters to stumble'. It'd be no good turning up looking as though we weren't taking things seriously." She took a few steps toward the door and looked back. "Dress smartly, professionally – use your light blue shirt and your College tie. Come down and I'll feed you."
It's fairly clear Saint Paul wasn't married. 'The man is the head of the woman as Christ is the head of the Church'? I did as I was told. Over breakfast, Teri informed me that, "Darling, I want you to wait here until nearly ten, while I help the others set up. I do not want to see you in the church before ten. Plan the first few songs, decide what you're going to preach. Pray hard."
"Yes dear," I managed to suppress my sigh.
She, or they, were right, though. I spent an hour assembling thoughts and decided to preach on the woman taken in adultery, rather than the expository sermon on the Altar of Incense I had originally intended.
We began the service with 'Simple Gifts'. That's not a song familiar to most Britishers, but the tune is well known as 'Lord of the Dance'. After a short prayer, we then sang 'Amazing Grace' before moving on to what I call 'freestyle' worship. I was happy to see that most of the Nazarene people seemed to be participating freely. The exception being a tight-faced, dour couple dressed even more formally than Teri and myself, their clothes being very, very drab and dark.
I won't trouble you with the whole sermon, just the essence. "You see, there's no doubt the woman was guilty. By the letter of the law she should have been stoned. But Jesus' gift was to somehow convince her accusers that we all are guilty. In particular that there was another person involved in the sin who was not there accused. So they went away, leaving the woman there with Jesus, who dismisses her with the injunction to 'go, and sin no more.' I believe that we, the church, have often been guilty of 'administering justice' rather than loving our neighbour, and that is what our fellowship is about – loving and accepting our neighbours and leaving the administration of justice to the one true Judge of all."
We moved on to prayers and as usual they were a free medley with participation both from our group and the Nazarenes, which was pleasing. We ended with the hymn, 'Go Forth and Tell, O Church of God Awake!' Normally I dislike choosing music that preaches at the congregation, but on reflection, that's what we'd done.
Afterwards as we mingled, one of the Nazarenes asked, "Don't you take a collection? That's almost blasphemy in our church!"
I laughed. "I know what you mean. No. We're too new to be that organised and once we do get set up most of us will be making our tithe by standing order. We'll probably – it's not decided yet – have a collecting box by the entry to the sanctuary."
I noticed, once I had time to think about it, that the dour couple had slipped out at the end of the service and hadn't even stayed long enough for a cup of coffee. I found Raymond Onslow.
"Ah, yes. The Hardakers." He sighed. "I'm afraid they won't have liked your sermon at all. They certainly won't have absorbed the message. However, they can't affect the outcome of any discussion about this building. They might string out the argument, but I think you'll get the thumbs up anyway." He looked around. "I was impressed with your group's ... cohesion and sincerity. I'd like to sample some of that wonderful looking buffet they've organised, if that's okay, and try to avoid the sort of indigestion the Hardakers usually cause."
Teri materialised under my left arm and wrapped hers around me. "Darling," she looked up at me from under her eyebrows, "I think we're ready to eat, if you'd like to say grace."
"Mister Onslow..." I began.
"Ray," he corrected.
I smiled, "Then I'm Jim. Ray, this is still your building. Would you like to do the honours?"
He inclined his head, cleared his throat, and spoke up. "Everyone ... can I have a moment?" The buzz of conversation subsided. "First of all, welcome to this building. Secondly, thank you to Jim and his friends for a most edifying and enjoyable experience. Finally, let us give thanks for the feast our friends have prepared. Heavenly Father, You meet our every need in Your generosity. We bless and thank you for this food and pray that as it nourishes us physically, Your Word will nourish and equip us spiritually to obey Your great commission. Amen."
There was a chorus, ill synchronised, of 'Amens' and people gathered round the table to fill their plates. As I held back, waiting for the queue to subside, Teri still holding herself close, Ben came over. "Jim, Phil, Beth and I need to come talk to you. Can you do Tuesday evening?" He held up a hand and grinned at Ray Onslow, "We three are agreeing to take a leadership role and are representing Isabel, Yvonne and Dick so your house isn't overcrowded. Teri should be there, too."
"I don't think there's a problem with that."
"Good. Let's get something to eat." We had a very pleasant time, chatting with the others and getting to know each other. I confessed to more than one person that I didn't usually wear a suit to preach. One response was typical.
"So, why did you?"
"Because my wife told me you'd be more likely to listen to me if you weren't distracted by my casual dress."
"Your wife is a very wise and perceptive woman."
"Yes, she is." At which point she appeared at my left hand.
"Talking about me again?"
"My favourite subject, Sweetie, with the possible exception of God."
"I'll let you have that."
The Nazarenes were keen to talk about their history in the building and with one thing or another it was past four in the afternoon before we were on our way home. Once more, Sian slipped her hand into my right as Teri took my left.
As we passed through Devonshire Green, there were some disreputable looking characters perched on the edge of the raised plant beds. Being a pleasant day, there were many folk enjoying the weather with picnics and barbecues on the green, so I wasn't terribly worried. It was a little troubling, though, that they called out some derogatory comments as we passed. Teri and I managed to stand tall and confident, but I felt Sian shrink against me.
In the house, Sian whispered something to Teri and disappeared into the kitchen. Teri and I slipped our shoes off and Teri reclaimed my hand and led me into the lounge, where she pushed me into my favourite armchair before perching on my lap.
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