Chapter 3

Susie wasn’t scared of what might or might not be about to happen, she told herself as she rang the doorbell of the vicar’s cottage, just nervous about what the outcome might be. What could go wrong? She’d asked herself the same question many times walking through the village, and the answer was always the same; what could go wrong was that the vicar might suspect something, or see the camera or find it accidentally, guess what they were up to and throw them out of his home, and then there would be no story on Sunday. That’s all that could go wrong and that didn’t really matter, wasn’t really anything to worry about in the greater scheme of things.

No, what made the butterflies flutter and her juices flow was that it would all go right - very right. In which case the vicar would pull her panties down, punish her severely with his leather belt, and then... and then she shook her head to clear the images of her bent over the large table, and though her eyes were focused on the front door of the vicarage, she could still feel the treacherous desire between her clenched thighs.

Then the door of the vicarage opened to reveal, not Stephanie, but the vicar himself, white hair sticking up wildly, a dark flush on his red-veined cheeks, and a greedy glow in his watery eyes. Looking at him, Susie felt the gentle fluttering of the butterflies double their speed, and the warmth in her panties told her that her body was still responding to the situation in its normal way. It was a condition that was easily mistaken for passion, and which had all too often got her into trouble in the past. It was magnified when - as now - she sensed some form of sexual activity was imminent, and that her partner - in this case the vicar - would assume she was aroused and react accordingly. It was a condition that might be considered a drawback in private life, but it was a bonus in her line of work, since her natural response to fear meant she seldom had to fake arousal when the job required it, even though she was not aroused - if it was possible to be un-aroused when ones knickers were soaked with warm honey, she thought wryly.

Still conscious of the damp silk as she moved, she obeyed the vicar’s invitation to enter, leading Sophie towards the back room, with the large wooden table she remembered so well. Susie was surprised the vicar had opened the front door himself, and was secretly pleased at the implication - that there had been a change of plan and no one else was on the guest list for the evening, apart from her and Sophie.

But she was wrong.

She opened the door and was confronted with a scene of debauchery that belonged in a strip joint, not in a country vicarage.

Amanda.

On a straight-backed chair in the centre of the room, with a pouting smile and heaving bosom, Amanda sat with her short skirt rucked up, her knees apart and her knickers glistening in the light, for all the world as if she was posing for Sunday’s front page.

This, Susie knew, was the woman who had first rung the paper to inform on the vicar’s activities. At the time she’d seemed quite shocked by the depravity she’d heard of, especially incensed since a man of the cloth performed it, and even more shocked when the vicar suggested she might even like to join one of his special evenings. And she knew what that meant. There had been enough gossip for even such an innocent newlywed such as she to understand that the vicar was ministering to the purely physical needs of the young and attractive women of the village.

And so she’d rung the paper and denounced him.

At their first meeting, when Susie - aka Caroline - had remained firmly incognito, she’d quite seen the vicar’s point when he’d propositioned Amanda; early twenties, long legs, bottom like two halves of a basketball, breasts ditto, waist about twenty inches max, angelic face with little cupid-bow mouth, neat white teeth, inviting smile and eyes that were at least as blue as Susie’s own. It was a body that would make a homosexual bishop try to put his hand up her skirt, never mind a randy vicar with an appetite exceeded only by the size of his dong. And top off the body with a dose of glowing and youthful innocence, all pure English rose, sweet twenty-one and never been kissed... well.

But this could hardly be the same person. She wore a dress crafted from diaphanous white silk that clung to her like a second skin, revealing more than it concealed. Like, for example, every bone in her ribcage, every tense of muscle in her flat stomach, the full firm swell of breasts that were supported only by a bra made of equally transparent sheer white, with bullet-hard nipples jutting through, dark and biteable. It clung also to the tops of her toned thighs, though it was gathered up by her parted legs, revealing a tiny pair of white knickers, as sheer and see through as the dress, allowing Susie to observe the neat, inverted triangle of black hair that ended where the furrowed entrance to her body began. The smooth pink curves of her shaven labia were as visible through her knickers as if she’d been naked under a searchlight, but the effect was a million times more stunning because it felt like peeping, catching illicit glimpses of forbidden fruit.

Susie felt herself growing hotter and wetter as she stared, wondering what had happened to Amanda in the past three months to wreak such a change, and wondering if she could believe her eyes. The gusset of her knickers was clearly wet, the parting they revealed in the soft flesh puffy and open, shining through the material - and when she rose, turning away to pick up her coat and bag, Susie saw the dark red lines across those firm young buttocks and knew at once that the vicar had only just finished ministering to Amanda’s needs in his own special way.

‘Do come in,’ she sparkled brightly, eyes shining with that just-fucked look that Susie recognised at once. ‘The vicar’s just finished my instruction.’ Her chest heaved and Susie eyed the dark tips enviously. ‘Can’t stop. Hubby’s expecting me home, and we mustn’t disappoint him.’

She tripped off into the hallway, pecked the vicar on the cheek, seemed not to notice the friendly caress of his livered hand on her round bottom, and disappeared from view, leaving Susie and Sophie just inside the room, speechlessly rooted to the spot.

‘Come in, come in,’ boomed the vicar heartily and inappropriately from behind them, but he held out his arms and swept them into the room, revealed in the light as somewhat more red in the face than normal, breathing a bit too heavily as well, as he smoothed his clothes and ran ineffective fingers through his hair, looking more like a mad scientist than ever.

‘Such a sweet young thing, Amanda,’ he enthused. ‘Her husband is so pleased with the change in her since she started coming to see me.’ He beamed enthusiasm and salaciousness in equal quantities. ‘Used to be a miserable little thing most of the time, always a bit reluctant to enjoy all the pleasures God has made available to her. Quite spoilt their evenings together.’

His knowing smile was almost a leer, and Susie could hardly believe he was being so obvious about everything. Unless, of course, he assumed Susie had told Sophie exactly what to expect - which he did, judging by what followed.

‘So he asked if I would have a word with her. I’ve managed to open a few doors for one or two other ladies in the community, as I expect you know,’ he said to Sophie, ‘and I know you do,’ he smirked at Susie, ‘and so I said I’d try with Amanda. She didn’t want to come at first, but her husband persuaded her and now of course she comes all the time.’ He was almost like a blue comedian, Susie thought, hoping most fervently that the audio was as good as the video and was recording every dirty, smirking word. ‘Yes, I’d say she’s a completely different girl now,’ and he smirked again. ‘Yes, I do believe I’ve saved the marriage with my special instruction. Now then... Sophie, isn’t it?’ And he held out a hand, almost embracing Sophie as Susie wondered about Amanda, obviously now on her way home to satisfy her husband with the ardour stirred up - quite literally - by the vicar. And she wondered about Amanda’s husband, obviously as pleased with the arrangement as was his wife.

As the dirty old goat turned to Susie, with the same smug smile, she stared, horrified by the expression on Sophie’s face. She was gazing at the man as though she liked and respected him. What was it he had over women? Surely the stupid girl could see what a detestable old lecher he was.

Gone now was Susie’s earlier doubt about spoiling his mildly eccentric lifestyle. He wasn’t just a randy old goat, he was a nasty, selfish, manipulative and ultimately destructive pervert pretending to be something he wasn’t, and abusing the trust his position bestowed upon him. Now she’d had another encounter with him, she was in no doubt at all about what she was doing, nor the moral rectitude of the situation. If the bishop wouldn’t act, then the only way to depose him was to expose him - on the front page, to five million readers, this coming Sunday. Oh yes, she was desperate to wipe the self-satisfied smile off his leering old countenance with a nice big eighty-four point banner headline.

Blissfully unaware of her intentions, the vicar was proceeding towards his doom as fast as his randy little legs could get him there. ‘Now,’ he said to Sophie, her expression clearly not wasted on him, ‘I wonder if you don’t need my special care first?’

‘Well, vicar...’ Susie tried to interrupt, but he took no notice, fixing Sophie with his intense and overpowering stare. Susie had felt the force of it herself once before, and knew the effect it could have; she’d certainly given in to it without much resistance.

‘I know you’ve been unwell, and you don’t look as if you’re a hundred percent fit just yet,’ he continued, still gazing deeply into Sophie’s eyes. ‘So I think you need my help... and the Lord’s, of course. It’s a wondrous thing, how healing prayer can be. Shall we start with that first? I’ll lead.’

Asking apparently harmless questions, with no earthly reason to answer in anything but the affirmative, is a well established technique that gets people into the habit of saying ‘yes’, while at the same time manoeuvring them inch by inch into a situation they would not have agreed to if asked outright. Susie knew it and recognised what the vicar was doing, and tried at once to intervene.

‘I don’t think Sophie’s ready for anything hard just yet,’ she said, instantly regretting the accidental double entendre. ‘I mean, difficult,’ she amended lamely.

‘I think we’ll let her decide when she wants something hard,’ said the vicar, pouncing on the opportunity, squeezing Sophie’s hands and looking into her eyes with his own bloodshot gaze.

Susie could hardly believe he was so obvious about where the evening was heading - or at least, where he wanted it to head - especially since he’d hardly spoken to Sophie before, but once again she guessed he was basing his confidence on the assumption that Susie had explained the nature of these sessions to her sister, and Sophie’s presence at his cottage signalled at worst mere acceptance or, at best, positive eagerness to take part.

And so he continued, addressing Sophie in the flowing tones of the practiced public speaker. Despite his ravaged appearance - he looked more like a low-rent Marquis de Sade than a vicar, thought Susie, as small fragments of copy composed themselves in her mind in preparation for the story - despite his looks, he had a soothing voice and a definite presence and, confronted with it, Sophie seemed oblivious to everything else.

‘Sophie,’ she said, but the vicar shushed her with a waved hand.

‘Just relax and leave her to me, my dear,’ he soothed, but Susie knew the calm tones were for Sophie’s benefit, and the stern glare he shot over his shoulder was for hers. ‘I’ll take care of her,’ he added, in a voice redolent with authority, and against her better judgement Susie felt herself slightly overwhelmed by his presence.

‘Now Sophie,’ he droned on, talking of her pain and illness and the well-being of healing and the warm comfort of surrendering your destiny to yourself and yourself alone, and as his fingertips pressed lightly against her temples and massaged, slow circular movements, Sophie relaxed before Susie’s eyes, and the melodious tones of the vicar’s voice soothed her too.

‘Kneel,’ he said to Sophie, and she did, placing the bag on the chair by her side, quite high enough to do the job as long as it was pointing in the right direction, but without peering obviously at it Susie had no way of knowing which way it was pointing. And anyway, the vicar, still massaging Sophie’s temples with his fingertips, was speaking to her.

‘Kneel beside your sister,’ he said to Susie, and she did as she was ordered. ‘Now, repeat after me,’ he said, and began a slow incantation, his hands still circling on either side of Sophie’s head. And as he chanted Susie felt herself becoming more and more attuned to the rhythms of his speech and the cadence of his voice, listening as he intoned the words of love, healing and forgiveness which we all desire, and feeling the warm glow of contentment within her core as she relaxed.

It was having the same effect on Sophie, she could tell, only more so, as her sister’s eyes grew wide and bright and her mouth opened slightly, tongue moistening her lips as her chest began to heave and the vicar drew her further and deeper under his spell, the massaging fingertips circling lower and lower, soothing Sophie’s cheeks, and then the sides of her neck, her shoulders, thumbs coming into play, circling, pressing into the muscle, relaxing, moving on, hands creeping lower, massaging her upper arms, squeezing them in his palms as the thumbs reached outwards in large circles, sending waves of pleasure through Sophie’s body as they came tantalisingly closer to nipples whose outlines could now be seen through the black dress.

And Susie wasn’t the only one to have noticed that Sophie was almost in a dreamy trance of delight. The vicar knew too, and Susie saw with fascinated horror the huge bulge appear as his trousers tented, thrust forward by the enormous growth within. Sophie had seen it too, watching it as the cobra watches the snake charmer’s pipe; fascinated, mesmerised, hypnotised as it grew, already impossibly large but still getting larger.

‘Do you want to feel the power of God’s love?’ he asked of Sophie, who was staring at it through lowered lashes, trancelike.

‘Y-yes please,’ she whispered, instinctively licking her lips.

‘Do you want to feel the power of God’s love in you tonight?’ asked the vicar, and Sophie hardly paused before she answered.

‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘oh, yes.’

‘Do you want to feel the power of God’s love in your body tonight?’ he asked again, and once again Sophie sighed her reply like a lovesick schoolgirl.

‘Oh, please,’ she begged.

‘Are you ready to let the power of love enter you tonight?’ asked the vicar.

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Sophie, apparently failing to notice that God was no longer part of the proceedings.

‘Are you ready to feel the power of love inside you tonight?’ he asked, and Sophie’s chest heaved as she nodded.

‘Are you willing to give yourself completely to love?’ asked the vicar, and Sophie’s breath quickened in her throat, her breasts swelling, and her voice was low and husky as she answered.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Say it,’ commanded the vicar. ‘Say after me: I want to feel it.’

‘I want to feel it,’ Sophie gasped obediently, one hand clutching at the black dress where it covered her groin, knotting the material with fierce fingers.

‘Say you want to feel it inside you.’

‘I want to feel it inside me,’ she breathed, as the vicar’s hands settled firmly over her breasts and the bullet-nipples pressed into his palms as he squeezed and kneaded.

‘And are you ready to surrender yourself to the power of love?’ he asked, his eyes closed in concentration as his fingers sought the two erect centres of Sophie’s breasts and pinched them, prompting little gasps and sighs.

‘Oh yes, I’m ready,’ said Sophie, pressing her flattened hand against her groin, hips beginning to sway and rock.

‘Say you’re ready to surrender to love,’ ordered the vicar, letting one of her breasts free as his hand rose to his waist and the fingers began to pluck at the fastening of the leather belt.

‘Oh, I want to surrender to love,’ sobbed Sophie, as her hand squeezed and her fingers curled, searching urgently between her legs.

‘Are you ready to give yourself to love?’ asked the vicar harshly, his own breath ragged and fierce as he undid his trousers, allowing a thick black pole to spring into view as his massive erection thrust his underpants out, making Sophie’s eyes widen in shock and greed.

‘I’m ready to give myself to love,’ she whispered as her free hand reached up and hesitantly grasped the black shaft, then confidently squeezed and began to rub, sliding the black material up and down in short and jerky movements. ‘I’m ready,’ she said again, both hands still busy, one for her and one for the vicar.

Looking at the expression on Sophie’s face, like a child in a sweetshop who’s just been told it’s all free and all for her, Susie knew she was telling the truth, and she knew the vicar would know as well. Sophie was about as ready as a girl could be.

‘Before you can feel love you must feel remorse,’ said the vicar, in a voice hoarse with emotion. He grasped Sophie’s wrist and raised her to her feet, turning her towards the table, guiding her, leaning her over the polished wooden edge.

Susie knew what was happening, knew she should intervene, but remained immobile, silent, watching. It wasn’t just that she wanted the story, wasn’t just that she didn’t want to give the game away. That was part of it, but the bigger, most compelling thing was the power in the room, the crackling charge of sexual energy that zapped and sparked and leapt from person to person. Susie was spellbound by the drama between Sophie and the vicar, enthralled by tension as they moved inexorably closer to the moment of fulfilment, and entranced by her own mounting desire, juices flowing hotly between her thighs as she waited impatiently to observe that moment, to watch as Sophie’s tender young body was spread open and revealed to the vicar’s gaze before he penetrated her with his immense maleness and ravished her succulence.

Which was almost visible now, as the vicar lifted the hem of Sophie’s dress, pulling it up over her taut rump, exposing the supercharged eroticism of stocking-tops and suspenders, the narrow V of black that bisected the two halves of her bottom and became a thin black line that disappeared between the two rounded swellings as it cut her glistening peach in half, leaving its inner pinkness and the gathering moisture to sparkle in the light. It was an intoxicating sight, and the vicar was unable to prevent himself from leaning heavily against it as he tucked Sophie’s dress up around her waist, the thick shaft that jutted from his open waistband slotting neatly between the curves of her bottom.

‘Are you ready to feel the power of the Lord?’ he asked, rather unnecessarily, Susie thought, since she was fairly certain Sophie could feel it already.

‘Yes, I’m ready,’ replied Sophie, her voice muffled because one side of her face was pressed against the wooden table.

‘Are you really ready?’ asked the vicar, as he reached for Sophie’s hand and pulled it back, pressing it down between them, standing away from her so he could see what he was doing, guiding her hand until it was pressed over her own pink opening. ‘Make yourself ready,’ he said harshly, but Sophie, who really was really ready, needed no telling, and was already stroking herself luxuriously, raising up on tiptoe as her fingers separated the wet flesh, spread it wide, caressed it and teased it, before sliding slowly into it until she stood there with her bottom lifted, her wrist bent and her fingers spread out wide like the wings of a butterfly, except for the middle finger which bent and disappeared into her body.

‘Now...’ breathed the vicar, turning towards Susie, shirttails hanging loose, held aside by the strength of the huge erection that speared from his gaping fly, swelling inside his black underwear, ‘what about you, my dear girl? Are you ready to feel the power of love as well? Do you need it too?’ As he asked, his voice hypnotically low, he pulled his belt from its loops.

‘Yes, I need it,’ whispered Susie. It was the only possible answer, because she had to have the pictures and the story, and because she was almost as mesmerised by the power of the vicar’s personality as Sophie, and because she was so aroused by the imagery of her sister and the vicar, and the knowledge of what they were about to do, that her white silk panties were shamefully damp.

The lost look in her eyes was unmistakeable, and fired the vicar to even greater heights of desire. ‘Do you want to feel the power of love in you tonight?’ he asked, as he stepped closer, unzipping the creamy cashmere dress with his free hand, freeing it from her shoulders and watching as it fell to the floor.

As his eyes feasted on the smooth curves of her shapely body, the firm swell of her breasts inside their flimsy covering, and the unmistakeable sheen of her freshly-shaved skin, pink and smooth within the near-transparent panties, Susie saw his erection twitch, an involuntary spasm of excitement, and she felt her own body mirror the movement, a thrilling surge of excitement and need as she imagined it thrusting inside her.

Then he roughly grabbed her arm and propelled her towards the table, hurrying now because he could hardly wait, almost forcing her down so she bent over the polished wood beside her sister, instinctively adopting Sophie’s pose, face sideways on the tabletop, looking towards her, with her feet apart and her bottom raised. Sophie felt Susie’s stockinged leg against hers and smiled, eyes half-closed and moist lips parted slightly by desire. Behind her, Susie sensed the vicar’s eager movements and heard the rasping of clothes being hastily removed.

‘Do you crave the power of love inside you now... really crave it?’ The vicar’s voice was a harsh croak as his trousers fell to the floor.

‘Yes, I think so,’ confirmed Susie, taking a firmer grip on the far edge of the table, and settling her tummy against it in preparation for his thrusts.

‘Oh yes,’ said Sophie dreamily, spreading her body wide with two fingers so he could see just how much she craved it inside her.

‘Are you ready to feel the power of love right now?’ He stepped from his trousers, standing close behind her with the belt dangling in one hand.

‘I’m ready,’ sobbed Sophie.

‘I’m ready,’ said Susie, quite certain that the pose she was in gave the vicar a perfect view of her wet sex lips, through white silk panties made transparent by her lasciviousness.

The vicar’s heart was hammering as he stared at Susie’s vulnerable body, hammering harder as his gaze shifted to Sophie’s gleaming wet pinkness and the shiny finger that slithered in and out.

‘Are you prepared?’ he roared, and freed the giant erection from the opening of his underpants, letting it pulse in front of him, the bulbous purple tip shining and smooth.

‘Oh, yes please,’ cried Sophie, looking over her shoulder at the object of her need, bobbing just inches from where she desperately wanted him to put it.

‘Are you ready to repent?’ The vicar caressed Susie’s bottom with his free hand, making her flinch at his touch.

‘Yes, I...’ she whispered.

‘Are you ready to repent?’ His hand reached across and brushed Sophie’s tight rump before dipping down to the irresistible honey pot she was so lovingly stirring for him.

‘Ohhh yessss...’ she sighed, as a fingertip nosed the soft lips aside.

‘Are you truly ready for forgiveness?’ he asked, reaching out to Susie and pulling the tight panties higher, stretching them, squeezing the wet softness within.

‘I’m ready,’ she said, and meant it, because she too was about as ready as she’d ever been.

The vicar looked at them again, gazing from one to the other while his left hand absently stroked the huge erection that still poked proudly from his underpants.

‘Repent then, and show your sin!’ he shouted, and stepping back he whirled his right arm like a windmill and the leather belt whistled through a semicircle and lashed across two sets of buttocks with a stinging crack! And both girls squealed as their flesh quivered and a red line appeared across both bottoms as if branded there, and he grasped himself harder in his left hand.

‘Repent, you sinners of the flesh!’ he shouted as the belt cracked down again, his left hand pumping vigorously as his eyes roamed across the taut buttocks and soft wet pinkness nestled between.

‘Repent, oh harlot!’ roared the vicar, and he laid it on again, a stinging blow that drew another weal and another squeal. ‘Painted whore!’ bellowed the vicar as his left hand pumped faster and his right arm tried to keep up the pace.

Whack! Whack! The belt was swinging and striking with an unerringly repetitive rhythm.

‘Say after me: I repent,’ he panted.

‘I repent,’ the girls repeated, but there was no mercy from the vicar.

Whack! Whack! The leather resounded across four delicious buttocks, the cheeks aglow with rosy flame and the soft wet centres on fire with molten lust.

‘Say again, I repent my sins!’ he demanded, and though both voices obeyed at once the belt landed again, crisp and precise.

Whack! Whack! It stung Sophie’s bottom and Susie’s bottom almost at the same instant, so their squeals were in perfect unison once again.

‘Repent your wickedness, repent ye harlots!’ boomed the vicar, and his arm swept down and the belt slashed and the girls wailed.

Again and again the broad leather landed across the two girls, almost always striking both together, making them jerk in unison, an experience so arousing that the vicar’s face was as purple as the rounded tip of his erection, the veins in his temples and throat almost as gnarled as those that knotted the length of his jutting shaft. His eyes were almost bursting from his head as his arm and hand blurred into a frenzy of blows, the belt swooping over his head and thrashing across the buttocks of the two sisters sprawled over the table in front of him, the effort so great he no longer had the strength to preach at them.

But the more he whipped and the more the girls wailed and the more they repented, the more aroused they became, and he gawped with rabid lust at the thin strip of black material that was now embedded in Sophie’s pussy, glistening wet, her swollen lips split like a juicy fig.

‘Repent!’ he managed to croak, and as the belt swatted the material got wetter, the black slash grew narrower and more pinkness was revealed as the gusset pulled deeper into Sophie’s writhing body.

At last the vicar’s weary arm slowed, the lash of the belt grew weaker and in a heaving voice he asked, ‘Are you ready to feel the power of love?’

‘Yes,’ whispered Susie, her voice undeniably husky with desire.

‘Please,’ begged Sophie, unashamedly peeling the black material from between her sex lips and holding it aside invitingly.

The vicar stepped closer, dropping the belt to the floor and taking his erection in both hands, pointing it as he leaned forward until the huge purple knob was touching Sophie and her quivering body froze, waiting... waiting... until finally he leaned over her deliciously vulnerable form.

Susie raised herself onto her elbows, and as she stared in awe the vicar fed his cock into her sister, making the inches disappear from sight one after the other - three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... until it was completely embedded in her, as easily as pushing a hot knife into butter.

Sophie sighed deeply and relaxed, slumped on the table as the vicar began to pull slowly out of her, easing himself bodily away and then falling forward again, pushing in and out with wet sucking sounds that grew louder and faster as his movements quickened and Sophie’s juices increased in response.

Susie pressed her palms against the table and lifted herself further back; she’d seen the vicar in action before - and felt him of course - but she’d forgotten quite how large he was, how impressive his dimensions. Sophie was experiencing it all for the first time, and clearly enjoying it as she raised herself on tiptoe, lifting her bottom higher and back, pressing onto the pumping shaft, urging it deeper as her breath became a series of ragged sobs in time with each aggressive inward thrust.

The vicar seemed to notice Susie moving for the first time, beady eyes swivelling towards her in a face that was bright red and dripping with sweat that fell from bushy eyebrows, from the tip of his plump and purple nose, and from the fleshy chin, the droplets falling like warm rain on Sophie’s buttocks. He was clutching them in his liverish hands, one set of stubby fingers clamped around each perfect globe, but he released one and reached for Susie, laying his hand firmly on her bottom, stroking the warm flesh inside the tightly stretched white silk panties, fingers searching inwards and down until they probed the narrow valley between her buttocks.

Instincts took over as she too lifted onto the balls of her feet and bent forward again, raising her bottom and spreading her thighs. The vicar’s fingers found the heat inside the white panties and the wetness that soaked them, and began to hunt, pushing and probing excitedly, spreading the slick wet flesh apart but unable to force any deeper because of the tight material that was stretched over her opening, and they began to scrabble, as if digging their way through.

Susie’s hips were beginning to thrust up and down as if she could help him force his way through her panties by pressure, but she knew it was never going to happen, so she reached back and pushed the white silk panties down over her bottom, slackening the material that guarded her, letting the vicar’s fingers push it deeper. He gave a sudden snort of satisfaction as his digits sank into the welcoming warmth, and pushed harder, thrusting the wet material into her body.

The sudden invasion felt good, but it was not enough and it was not what Susie had intended or needed. With a squeal that was an even mix of relief and frustration, she pushed the panties lower until they were dragging against his hand and he finally got the picture, releasing the pressure and allowing her to pull the wet material aside. Then his fingers thrust back again, and with a grunt of triumph he pushed easily into the scalding wet flesh, making Susie gasp as the knuckles thudded against her.

Now the vicar was leaning back, watching his own handiwork as he thrust in and out of both sisters, shoving his huge erection into Sophie and thrusting two fingers into Susie, making both girls gasp with each rhythmic penetration.

Then the movements stopped suddenly, and there was a moment of silence broken only by three gasping sets of lungs, then with a wet plop the vicar extracted himself from the girls, shuffled sideways, and rested something that felt like a hot rubber ball between Susie’s soft and parted lips. ‘Now you can feel the power of love,’ he croaked, and as Susie gasped he pushed his long, purple-tipped shaft deep into her body.

‘Aaah...’ she gasped, as ten solid inches of rigid flesh sank inexorably into her pretty little pussy, until his grey pubic hair rasped against her scalded and punished bottom.

‘Ohhh... aaah...’ squealed Sophie, as her moan of disappointment was uplifted by two fingers that replaced the emptiness, spreading her tight opening wide as they wormed into her and wriggled around.

The vicar quickly settled back into rhythm, pumping in and out of the two girls, making them gasp in harmony as his own breath tore and laboured in his lungs and his face reddened dangerously as he looked down to where his thick erection spread Susie’s pussy into a perfect O, like a little round mouth that clasped wetly as the shaft pistoned back and forth, smearing its welcoming wetness along the glistening length.

The effect on Susie was growing as the fleshy rod pounded unstoppably, a steady, unbreakable rhythm that all her squirming could not change. No matter how much her hips writhed as she tried to make him go faster and deeper, the vicar just pumped steadily in and out until she thought she’d scream in frustration. And then she realised that the steady beat was having a pronounced, inexorable effect and there was a slow building of pressure in her sex, a continual rise of pressure, and her movements ceased, and she was still for a few seconds until she felt the beat and matched it, circling her hips in perfect time as she helped herself towards a beautiful crisis.

The vicar understood the signals and suddenly sidestepped again, pulling free of Susie and leaving her cold and empty as her sister sighed beside her, wriggling her bottom backwards along the shaft the vicar prodded against her.

Two fingers plunged into Susie’s body and began pushing in and out, spreading and sliding, and slowly her body caught up with the movement and she relaxed, letting her pelvis rock and circle, and soon she was gasping again with each thrust and hearing Sophie gasp too. And then suddenly her back dipped, her head and shoulders lifted, her mouth opened and she was perfectly still. Even the vicar froze too, motionless except for the huge shaft that pulsed inside Sophie, and she squealed several times before slumping again onto the table.

The vicar still had two fingers inside Susie; two fingers that kept perfect time with the spasms of his climax, and each time he sprayed a viscous jet into Sophie the fingers inside Susie convulsed and relaxed, and the extraordinary sharing of her sister’s orgasm and the vicar’s climax made her come again as well, and she shuddered like a rag doll as intense sensations ebbed and flowed once more.

The two girls had hardly fallen silent when the vicar withdrew his fingers from Susie and his now floppy semi-hardness from Sophie. ‘Caroline,’ he said, and it was a moment before Susie remembered that was her alias and realised he was talking to her. By then he had raised her weary body and turned her to sit on the table edge. ‘Sophie,’ he said, turning her, pressing one hand on her shoulder, pushing her to her knees between Susie’s listlessly parted thighs, her face inches away from Susie’s hot wetness. ‘I’m sure we can make enough of this to satisfy your needs as well,’ he said to Susie, and as he pressed Sophie’s face between her sister’s thighs he pulled Susie’s head forward and down. Instinctively she opened her legs and opened her mouth, and as Sophie’s tongue began to lap tentatively between her soft folds, probing into the dark warmth, Susie obediently took the engorged helmet of the vicar’s still impressively large penis into her mouth and began to suck, tasting the spicy perfume of her sister’s pussy mingled with the thicker creaminess of the vicar’s ejaculation. And as she sucked she felt the fleshy column thicken and grow between her lips, stretching them, her jaw beginning to ache.

‘Amazing,’ she whispered, truly in awe of his stamina as she lifted her head and straightened up, holding the throbbing length and stiffness in her two hands.

‘It truly is a miracle,’ he agreed, and smiled as he curled a fist around the base, holding it still and straight, and shuffled forward, easing Sophie’s head to one side so he could slide his length alongside her busy tongue, filling Susie with its hugeness as it sank deeper and deeper and deeper. ‘Now, my children,’ he said, and guided Sophie’s head back into place.