The Organist Entertains Ch. 03

Peter Noakes was the organist and choirmaster at St Leonards' church and had been so for over thirty years. He had been a widower for the past three years and had two grown up children. He had lived mainly on his own for the last year since his youngest child, his daughter Alice, had joined her brother at university.

The parish had received a new vicar four months previously, Reverend Maxine Power, a slim, plain looking brunette in her early thirties. This was her first parish as a vicar and already she had made an impression on people in more ways than one. The congregation had increased steadily at the morning services and she had successfully recruited seven members of the local primary school into the choir and reinstated the Sunday School for younger members.

She had also made quite an impression on Peter, so much so that they had had amorous liaisons on two consecutive days. These had been once in her car after a series of weddings on the Saturday and again the following day after the morning service at the vicarage. Unfortunately they had been caught out at the Sunday session when Trish Thorndike, a divorcee and the mother of one of the choir girls, had called to collect the keys to the parish hall after her daughter had left her mobile phone in there.

Finding the vicar wearing only a black slip, and Peter wearing nothing but his watch, she had naturally been embarrassed and Maxine had thought it right that they should go round the next day and apologise. Due to a meeting with a parishioner lasting longer than expected, plus the fact that she had a prior appointment with the bishop, Maxine couldn't go and he decided to go alone, whereby he succeeded in getting off with the aforementioned Mrs Thorndike, only to be caught stark naked again, this time by her friend Helen Faraday the Sunday School teacher, firstly to her shock and latterly her amusement. And so, our story continues...

Peter had got home exhausted after his session with Trish Thorndike but he was worried though. He had managed to apologise to Trish for any embarrassment caused and had then enjoyed screwing her and knew that she too had enjoyed her liaison with him as it was the first time she had had any male company in thirteen long years. However, this was now the second time that he had been caught having sex with ladies from the parish. Tongues were bound to wag and it would only be a matter of time before he was caught and then he and possibly Maxine also would be fired. His children would be home the next day also and while they would support him if he were to date suitable ladies, they would be ashamed and embarrassed if they knew that he had been caught in flagrante twice on successive days. Nevertheless, he decided to go and visit Helen the next morning just to set the record straight.

Meanwhile Helen was sat in Trish's lounge listening to the entire goings on. Trish was now fully dressed again and was telling her not only of the events on the previous afternoon, but those which had taken place within the last hour.

"Of course, you won't tell anyone, will you," Trish had said to her as she left later that afternoon. "I don't want Abigail to find out."

"No, of course not, you know I won't tell anyone." Helen had said and kept her word, apart from telling her husband, who never went to church anyway, her mum and her sister.

Peter didn't sleep very well that night. He was up early and had a light breakfast. He had a bit of work to do at an old lady's house in his day job as a gardener, just trimming the hedge and sorting out a few weeds. He was round there by eight thirty and finished just before ten 'o clock. He'd had a text from his daughter that morning to say that she would be arriving on the train from London at ten past twelve so he had an hour or so until he had to leave for the station.

Helen lived in a big detached house with her husband who was now a barrister and their two young sons. Her car with its personalised number plate stood on the driveway. She was thirty-two years old, 5'6" tall and had shoulder length strawberry-blond hair with a short fringe and big brown eyes, framed by a pair of gold rimmed spectacles. She wasn't currently working but spent her day looking after her two young children.

Peter rang the bell and waited nervously. He guessed that her children would be at home so there should be no repeat of the previous day's actions. She came to the door wearing a blue blazer over a light blue print floral knee length dress. She wore light hosiery and a pair of high heeled beige sandals.

"Hello Peter," she said smiling. "How are you today?"

"Oh, not so bad," said Peter. "I wondered if I could have a quick word with you about yesterday."

"Sure," she said. "Come in. Mark's working at his office today, he's got a big case starting on Monday and the boys have been at my mums since yesterday lunch time. You've only just caught me; I've just been to a job interview."

Peter thought she looked a bit dressed up just to be child minding.

"What was that for?" he asked, stepping through the front door. "Is it at Mark's office?"

"No," she said. "It's for a teaching assistant at Riverside Primary School. James will be starting there in September and I've got Callum into the Nursery section so I'll be on hand if there are any problems. It was Maxine's suggestion. She noticed how I got on with the Sunday School children and suggested I go for it so I talked it over with Mark and he was all for it."

"So when will you know?" said Peter.

"They told me today, I've already got it," she said. "I had the main interview last week and had to go back for a second one at nine o'clock. Mum's looking after the boys until lunch time."

"Well congratulations," said Peter. "I'm very pleased for you. Now, about yesterday, I hope that Trish and I didn't cause you any embarrassment and I hope that I didn't frighten you too much."

"Well I wasn't embarrassed so much, but you did scare me a little when you loomed up in the doorway," she said. "The last person I expected to find there was you, especially in the buff!"

"Well let's just say that things got a bit out of hand," said Peter. "I went a bit further than maybe I should have and I'm sorry you felt frightened"

"Don't worry about it," said Helen taking off her jacket and laying it over the bannister at the bottom of the stairs. "We've all done things that go too far sometimes. Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee?"

"Cup of coffee please," said Peter. "I've been out since half past eight doing some work on a pensioner's garden so I could do with a drink. I can't stop too long though as Joe and Alice are home for the summer and I've got to pick them up from the station just after twelve and I need to get a bit of shopping."

"Take a seat in the lounge, I'll just put the kettle on," she said. Peter watched her as she disappeared into the kitchen, her short-sleeved floaty dress swirling sexily as she walked and soon he could hear the sound of the water splashing into the kettle and cups clattering as she prepared the coffee. She was soon back.

"I'm just going to nip upstairs and hang my jacket up," she said.

Peter nodded. He heard her going upstairs, the heels on her sandals making a clomping noise on each step. The lounge was quite large with two cream leather armchairs and a matching two seat sofa, a large rectangular expanding dining table and four chairs and a sideboard and display cabinet containing various photographs and ornaments. A large flat screen television and digital box, together with a combined DVD and video player stood in one corner of the room. A red plastic box of toys stood in another.

One particular photograph on the sideboard caught Peter's eye. It had been taken recently and showed Helen, her husband and two boys on a beach with Helen and her husband standing behind the boys who were dressed in identical shorts and t-shirts. Helen was standing almost sideways on with her head looking towards the camera. She was wearing a red strappy top with more than a hint of cleavage and either a pale blue very short skirt or a pair of shorts and red flip-flops. Peter couldn't quite see which as her youngest son covered the view. A black bra strap could also just be seen hanging an inch or so on her left shoulder and her normally immaculate hair looked windswept as a few strands were across the front of her face. All four were smiling broadly at the photographer.

"My, you're quite a dark horse," Peter thought to himself. "You've been coming to church all these years dressed in conservative dresses, skirts and tops and then you pose in an outfit like that."

He picked the photo up for a second admiring the slim, shapely leg that was on show. Once again, he could feel his cock doing a little dance under his jeans.

"No, Peter, you mustn't, not today," he told himself. "She's far too nice a lady for you, and she's married."

He heard the sound of Helen's heels clomping down the stairs again and put the picture back where he had found it. She walked back into the room again.

"I was just admiring this picture," he said, pointing to the photograph.

"Oh that was taken earlier this year," she said. "My sister, Alison, rented a cottage at Minehead and we had a few days down there with her and the girls. We had good weather, it was sunny every day. Have you ever been?"

Peter shook his head.

"The boys loved it," Helen continued. "We were on the beach every day and there's a steam railway there as well so we took them for a ride on it. I don't know who was the more excited though, Mark or the boys." She studied it for a moment. "Look at my hair," she said. "It was a very windy day that day. We all got very red from the sun and wind and I had to keep putting suntan lotion on the boys every hour or so."

Peter looked with her.

"What's that you're wearing with the top?" he said casually, pointing to the blue item of clothing.

"Oh, it's a skirt," said Helen as a matter of fact. "I had to be very careful every time I sat down, I can tell you. I've got a few like that, but I think that's the shortest."

"Well I think you look lovely," he said. "It's a happy, family picture and it reminds me of when Wendy and I used to take the kids away. It doesn't seem five minutes since we were posing for photos like this." He looked thoughtful for a moment, locked in his memories of his late wife.

"I guess you must still miss her," said Helen.

Peter nodded.

"And the kids do as well, especially Alice," he said. "She can't do all the mother and daughter things that other families do."

Helen reached out and held his hand as again he was deep in thought. He turned towards her and smiled.

"Thanks," he said.

"That's all right," she said. "We all need a friend sometimes."

In spite of the promises he had made to himself, Peter couldn't resist the urge to kiss her. He leaned forward, put his arms around her waist, and gave her a soft tender kiss on the lips. She kissed him back and he let his hands move further round her waist so that his chest gently brushed against her breasts. As he pulled her closer, he kissed her again letting his hands wander over her slender waistline while she rested hers on his shoulders. His cock jerked as he felt the outline of a suspender belt and the straps and fasteners which supported her stockings. She closed her eyes as he followed up with a longer more passionate kiss. His hands slid over her dress feeling the outline of her underwear as her breasts were squashed against his chest.

She broke free from her kisses and this gave Peter sufficient time to slide his left hand up to meet her right breast. She moaned slightly as he made contact but didn't resist hiss advances. Peter kissed her again, searching her lips with his tongue. Within seconds, she was responding, moving her arms round his neck as he squeezed and massaged her perfect breast. Soon their tongues were darting in and out of each other's mouths.

Peter brought both hands to the front of her dress. Their deep kisses continued as he groped them through the material. His hands fondled and manipulated them as their tongues collided and entangled themselves. Eventually they broke free and he looked down into her wanton brown eyes. His cock was now rock hard and pressing into her stomach and he pulled her gently towards him once more so that her breasts were now crushed against his chest. She gripped his waist as with his left hand, he gently pulled her hair to one side while his right moved to the zip at the back of her dress. Slowly and purposely he pulled it down to her bottom. Helen released her grip on his waist allowing him to pull the dress from her shoulders. He released his hold on her hair and it fell back into place and then pulled her arms free from its sleeves. Her hands went briefly back on his waist for support as he eased her dress to her waist and it fell to the floor. She stepped from it and picked it up, placing it over the arm of one of the armchairs.

Now it was Helen's turn to take the lead. She turned back towards Peter and started unfastening the buttons on his check shirt. It was slightly stained and smelled of earth from his earlier endeavours in the garden. She ran her fingers through the hairs on his chest before pulling his arms from the sleeves and tossing it into the chair with her dress. His eyes were glued to her body. She had on a soft, silky champagne coloured slip which enveloped the contours of her slender frame resting just above her knee. Two inches of lace sat around the hem with a similar amount around the bust forming a deep v-shaped cleavage and which extended to form the straps before continuing around the back in a shallower indent. He could clearly see the outline of her stockings, suspenders, panties and bra embossed against the material.

The kettle had long since boiled and shut itself off but coffee was now the last thing on Helen's mind as her fingers started to unfasten the belt on his jeans, then the little press stud before she pulled down the zip. She lowered them to his ankles stooping as she did so and giving Peter the sight of her bra and tits down inside the front of her slip as she suddenly realised she wouldn't be able to remove them without taking his trainers off first. She stooped to unfasten them, crouching back on her heels with her knees facing towards him. He looked down again and was rewarded with a fantastic upskirt of her stockings and matching panties as she deftly removed his left trainer and trouser leg before repeating the process with the other.

"I often have to do that with the Callum," she said standing up and tossing the jeans in the general direction of the armchair. "I'll undo his trousers then forget that he still has his shoes on then get everything in a tangle round his feet."

Peter wished he could be like her youngest son and have the chance to look up his mum's skirt on a daily basis! He pulled her closer once more hugging her so he could feel her slip rubbing against the hairs on his chest. His cock was now hard on in front of him and Helen didn't waste any time releasing it from its prison. She sat down on the leather sofa and put her hands around its shaft, pulling back the foreskin to fully expose the glans before taking it to her lips and licking it enthusiastically. Peter felt his balls stiffen as she took it into his mouth and began sucking it readily. He could see her tits, still within the confines of her bra, rocking steadily as she rhythmically pursued her quest as he looked down inside her slip once more. Her left hand cupped his balls, while her right was rubbing her panties through the front of her slip.

Peter could feel the sap rising within him once more. He rested his hands on her shoulders until with a grunt and a big tremor through his body he shot a load into her mouth. She swallowed it quite easily and hardly a drop was spilt with just a couple of small spots falling into the lap of the slip as he withdrew. He dropped down onto the sofa beside her and kissed her once more, licking some of his own seed from his lips.

"Shall we go upstairs," said Peter standing up.

"What for," said Helen pushing back her hair over her shoulders and standing up to face him.

"Well, so that we don't get any stains on your beautiful furniture or carpets," he said.

"No, it's fine," said Helen. "It's easy clean. When you've got two youngsters in the house you need furniture that wipes clean easily. Anyway I'm surprised you'll be able to get upstairs after what you've been up to these last few days," she said with a giggle.

"I beg your pardon," said Peter, the hint of a smile playing across his lips. What do you mean by that remark, pray young lady?"

"Well, you been shagging Maxine and Trish, plus I've just jerked you off, then you've got your day job. It must be a strain for an old man like you!" It was such unladylike language for a Sunday School teacher and soon to be classroom teaching assistant.

"You cheeky madam!" said Peter raising a hand as if to strike her. "You think I haven't got the strength do you, you just wait, lady!"

Helen squealed and tried to dodge round the side of the sofa but a large standard lamp blocked her passage and Peter was able to grab her by the waist. She struggled a bit trying to get free but his strong arms held her tight. He pulled her back on the sofa, squealing and squirming, her dishevelled hair flopping across her face. Eventually she calmed down and Peter started kissing her once more. She was now sitting sideways on to him on his knee. Peter's right hand was round her waist while his left took a little wander beneath the hem of the slip, over the top of her stockings and across the gusset of her panties. She was already very damp and she flinched when she felt his fingers.

He stood her up facing him once more and slid the straps of the slip from her shoulders and away from her arms. It fell in a heap at her feet but she left it where it was as he now had his hands over her shoulders searching out her bra clasp. Unlike Trish the previous day, she didn't make a fuss and let him remove the flimsy piece of lace material, which along with the colour of her panties, matched that of the slip. He gave a low whistle.

"My word Helen, what gorgeous tits you have" he said in awe. They may not have been as big as Trish's but they were perfect in every detail from the equal diameter of the pink areolas to the semi erect nipples. He knew it would have been rude to ask her size, but guessed she would have been about a 34C. He started massaging and fondling them, tweaking the nipple ends with his fingers to make them fully erect. He kissed them gently and sucked each nipple in turn until they were hard and upright then slipped his hands inside the waistband of her panties and pushed then over her hips. Now it was his turn to stoop as he helped her lift each foot to remove the slip and panties at her feet.

Her pussy hairs were slightly redder than her natural hair colour and had been recently trimmed. Her cunt lips could easily be seen and were moist and ready. Helen lay back on the sofa, her head on a cushion and spread her stocking-clad legs wantonly over the other arm, her strappy high heeled sandals still on her feet. Peter climbed on top of her and primed his cock ready.

"Are you okay with this," he asked suddenly feeling a little guilty that he was about to pleasure a married lady. Helen nodded.

"Yes, it's fine," she said gripping the back of his neck. "What Mark doesn't know about, he can't worry about. But of course, if you feel you're not up to it, I'll understand!"

"I'll show you who's up to it," said Peter, and he pushed his cock firmly between her open lips until it was in as far as it would go. He settled into a steady rhythm with his left arm around her shoulder, while his right alternated by pushing her hair from across her face and massaging her left nipple. Each penetration caused her lower body to rise off the sofa and her tits to bounce up and down in unison. Her glasses were still fixed in place but this Sunday School teacher was proving to be far from meek and mild as her body responded to Peter's advances.