Chapter 7: The Rector's Wife

Two of the clock on Tuesday afternoon found me sat by the side of the small stream, what we would call a 'beck' in Lincolnshire, awaiting the appearance of the Rector's wife. It seemed bizarre in the extreme that I was contemplating having a sexual dalliance with a woman whose name I did not yet know. However, there was a strong possibility that she was bored with her life at the rectory and was merely having a jest with me. Even now she could be hiding behind a shrub somewhere, watching to see how long I would wait for her, laughing to herself at the gullibility of man.
I was just about to leave when I saw her hurrying towards me along the path that ran alongside the beck.

"My apologies, Captain. I had to resolve a slight problem in the kitchen; I assure you that I had intended being here long before now." She took my arm and together we walked alongside the beck, while she prattled away about nothing in particular, as females are wont to do when they know a man is just itching to get between their thighs.

"Tell me Captain, do you prefer to be called Elijah or John?" My astonishment showed on my face.

"Oh I have made inquiries about you, Captain Greenaway." She giggled like a young school girl, although she was not too far distant in age from me. "I do not contemplate breaking my marriage vows without finding out all I can of my intended partners."

You could have blown me down with a feather; this shy and retiring, timid looking Rector's wife was a frequent and regular adulteress?

"You may call me Susannah," she continued, "and I shall call you John."

You must think me a poor excuse for gentleman, to have even considered galloping a married lady, and I confess I did nurture some qualms about the action I was contemplating. Up until now all my sexual partners had either been professional girls from the Temple in Lincoln, or unmarried or widowed females. However, I am a typical male, and when something delicious and forbidden is proffered I will take a bite, just like Adam. Now that I knew I was not to be the first one to penetrate the Reverend's wife --– other than her husband, if indeed he had --– I did not feel so sinful or so base. It was obvious that Susannah was not being coerced, or in any way being compelled, to fornicate with me; if she had not made the opening move the thought of having her as a paramour would never had occurred to me.

Those wives of Vicars and Rectors that I had the former acquaintance of were demure, straitlaced women; who served tea to the ladies of the parish at the vicarage/rectory, sang in the choir of a Sunday, pumped the bellows of the organ, and listened intently as their husbands gave lengthy sermons from the high pulpit. They did not writhe in ecstasy underneath a thrusting male, not their husband, begging, "Drive your fleshy bayonet deeper into my receptive dell," as Susannah later did of me.

But I run ahead of myself.

As we continued walking along the path by the beck, Susannah asked. "Tell me, John, how are the fashionable ladies of London wearing their hair this year?" I confessed I had not been to London, and that the last place of any size that I had been was Bordeaux.

"Well, how did the ladies of Bordeaux wear their hair when you were there?" I thought back to the last time I had seen Yvette; it was after she had given me a farewell fellatio. Her hair was disarrayed and coated in my semen, but I forbore to tell Susannah that, and just said.

"Err, in the French fashion, with ringlets."

We had just walked down a slight slope, when suddenly Susannah stopped and wrapped her arms about my neck. Stretching up on her toes she kissed me, and this time her little pointed tongue explored my mouth. For a considerable time we just enjoyed each others tongues. She eventually drew back.

"This place is well out of sight of any peering eyes, which is why we had to wait before I could express my delight in you making our rendezvous."

By choosing her places of assignation with such considered care it was plain that the lady was well versed in keeping her extra marital activities undisclosed.

The beck disappeared into a dense coppice, and we moved off the pathway to follow it. A small pool had been formed by the beck in this bosky, secluded spot, and at one end of the pool a slight drop allowed the beck to make a miniature waterfall as it continued down the incline, a delight to the ears as well as to the eyes. The banks either side of the beck were covered in a sward of sweet smelling grass, with wild flowers giving off many pleasurable scents. We kissed again, and this time our hands explored each others bodies, however the garments we wore allowed only the outlines of our protuberances to be fondled.

"Help me with my buttons." Susannah's fingers were fiddling at her back of her simple dress. I quickly helped to unbutton the dress to her waist, and then pushed it off her shoulders. She wore no petticoat or chemise beneath, and her small pointed nubs were soon in my hands, and then in my mouth. By this time my plunger was nearly bursting my breeches, and the sweet lass took pity on my predicament.

"Lie down, and let me relieve the pressure, lest your manhood suffers some injury."

I obeyed swiftly, with lustful anticipation.

Quick experienced fingers undid the buttons on the flap of my breeches, and her hand, like a questing ferret, slipped deftly inside, and then just as quickly withdrew, clutching her prey in a velvet fist. I thought that she would but stroke my exposed plunger, but no, the little vixen swallowed my length as if she had trained as an acolyte at the Temple. Susannah was an adept fellatrix, maybe not as practised as Yvette in Bordeaux, but as good as any I had had in Lincoln.

Her sucking and licking soon had me at the 'Present', and I knew it would not be long before 'Give Fire' would be ordered. It had been some time since having the opportunity of delivering a volley, and I had a surfeit of ammunition to deliver. I therefore warned her of the imminence, and the probable abundance, of my release, and she withdrew my plunger from her mouth.

"You may deposit your discharge over my face John, -- it is well known that the juice of a man is most beneficial to a ladies complexion."

It is true that I had admired her smooth flawless complexion, never giving a thought as to how it was obtained, or maintained. Her hand stroked the shaft, and her lips lightly captured the business end of my plunger. She could tell, by the engorgement of said business end, that I was on the brink of firing, and as I did she took me from her lips and I loosed my volley all over her face, some of my deluge coating her forehead and hair.

"Well, John, I see it is some time since you last had a woman milk you of your essence. I hope the wait has been worthwhile." She wiped the excess fluid from her face with a 'kerchief and rubbed the residue into her small breasts. "It is most efficacious as a body lotion, and had it been high summer I would be naked, and have you flood all over me."

I managed to regain my breath, while holding an image of Susannah naked, and covered in semen, in my mind.

"I must repay the favour you have just done me, truly it is a long time since I enjoyed such a pleasurable experience."

She gave me a sweet smile. "Certainly John, -- shall you mount me, or will I mount you?"

"Neither, -- I will perform cunnilingus upon you."

She looked at me warily. "I do not know what you mean; I hope it does not entail whips or bonds."

I was very surprised that she had not heard the term, nor in fact enjoyed the experience. I quickly explained what I intended doing and her face blushed crimson, but her eyes lit up in eager expectation. Susannah laid down on the sward, opened her legs and brought the hem of her dress up to her waist, and I saw with delight that she wore no drawers. She laughed as she saw my face.

"Reverend Proctor insists I wear my drawers to church on a Sunday, but I go without during the rest of the week. I can't be bothered with all that undressing and dressing; time is too short, and it is better spent with your member buried deep in my dell!"