My dearest Richard,
Finally, I found some amusement even here in exile so far from you. After a delightful half an hour this afternoon, I rushed back to the house and my rooms so I could share my discovery with you. 'Twould only have been more delicious if we could have watched the spectacle together, but I'll increase my delight by relating the scene in absentia.
I don't believe I've mentioned the local vicar. I'd hardly have thought him subject matter for correspondence like ours. This afternoon, I discovered how wrong I was. The word that comes to mind at the mention of him is "round." He has round cheeks, a round belly, and huge, round eyes behind the round lenses of his spectacles. He orates from the pulpit with rounded tones. All in all, he's a solid fellow, exactly what you'd expect for a sleepy hamlet and countryside like this.
I happened to be walking along the road near his house half an hour or so past and had taken a shortcut across his property when I overheard his voice in the kitchen garden. I could scarce believe my ears when I heard him declare that he'd been a very naughty boy. Imagine my further astonishment when a woman's voice answered that, indeed, he'd misbehaved and would have to suffer the consequences.
Secreting myself behind a wall, I determined that I'd eavesdrop at the very least and hope to observe directly what these consequences might be. As I peeked around the corner of the stones, I was able to identify the leading lady of the scene. She was Mrs. Rutherford, one of Vicar Hollyfield's flock at the Anglican church. I'd noticed her several Sunday mornings and wondered about her attentiveness during sermons. Several of the congregation hang on the man's words as he has a ponderous oratory style and a reputation for delivering the wrath of God even more forcefully than the Catholic monsignor in the next township. Mrs. Rutherford shows such rapture at his utterances, I felt no surprise at finding her, alone, with the great man.
Mrs. Rutherford was clothed as one would expect in a modest dress. The vicar, however, wore the clothing of a schoolboy - jacket, tie, and short pants. I can't imagine where he'd obtained a suit like that, especially given that it would have to be tailored to cover his belly. But there he was, standing before Mrs. Rutherford, staring at the ground like a student before his headmaster. For her part, she held a ruler in one hand and slapped it against her other palm, a stern expression on her features.
"I found the nasty volume amongst your books, young man," she said. "It depicted acts unacceptable even between adults. How could you have come upon such a monstrosity?"
"Found it in my father's rooms, ma'am," he replied, his head dropping even lower.
"I shall have words with him, I assure you," she said. "But not until you've had your punishment."
"Yes, ma'am," he muttered.
"Assume the position," she ordered as she continued to tap the ruler against her palm.
I had to cover my mouth to keep my laughter from reaching them. The whole scene was so ridiculous. The Reverend Mister William Hollyfield of the Church of England about to receive corporal punishment at the hands of one of his parishioners, as I could scarcely doubt that was what the two of them meant, given her brandishing of the ruler.
Imagine my further astonishment when he reached to his belt in preparation for lowering his pants. I was about to be treated to the spectacle of the vicar's naked bottom and perhaps a view of his aroused cock, as well. I fairly held my breath for fear that I might give myself away, but the two of them were so engrossed in their game that they didn't even glance around to make sure no one could see them. For heaven's sake, they were outdoors, after all, and not far from the road. One's faith in human intelligence falters at such times, it surely does.
In any case, the vicar soon exposed buttocks as rounded as the rest of him. I received only a fleeting view of his privates as he turned and bent over a wooden table. I had a thorough opportunity to observe the pink flesh of his arse and watched as Mrs. Rutherford raised her ruler and brought it down on his bottom.
The blow made a loud slapping sound as the ruler landed on his arse, and the vicar flinched. Grinning, Mrs. Rutherford repeated the process, raising the wood high and bringing it down on the other buttock.
"I don't want to do this to you, Master Hollyfield," she declared. "Your ill behavior compels me."
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I truly am," he said. He didn't sound the least bit sorry, though. His voice came out breathy as if he was enjoying her infliction of what had to be no little pain. I imagine he did take pleasure in the lady's blows to his hind quarters. Otherwise, how could I understand their actions?
As she continued striking his buttocks with the ruler, his skin turned a livid pink. Rather than alarming Mrs. Rutherford, the color seemed to encourage her to give him more of the same. In response to the continuing beating, the vicar began to beg, his voice high and whining. "Don't hit me any more," and "I'll behave myself," and "I've learned my lesson, truly."
"You're an evil child," she answered. "See there. What are you doing with your hand?"
Until she said that, I hadn't noticed that he'd reached under the table, and his arm moved rhythmically. I could only deduce that he'd reached to his cock and was now stroking it. Evil, indeed. Completely debauched and wicked. Positively delightful. I had to bite down on my lip to stifle my laughter. As a voluptuary myself, I had no reason to question anyone else's sexual practices. And yet, the scene really was funny. I do wish you could have watched it with me, my darling.
And so they continued, with Mrs. Rutherford applying the rod to the vicar's arse and the vicar stroking himself with great vigor. I feared for the vicar's buttocks and wondered whether he'd be able to sit on his seat under the cross at church. I'll have to watch on Sunday to see if he flinches as he lowers himself to the chair.
"Show me what you're doing with your hand, you filthy child," Mrs. Rutherford demanded.
"Please, not that," he replied.
"Do it, or I'll have to take you to the headmaster," she said. "He'll use a switch, and you won't be able to sit for a week."
"You won't tell him, will you?" he said.
"Do as I say," she thundered.
In reply, he stood, exposing his erect cock. It was pudgy and thick, barely sticking out past his belly. She took great delight in it, squealing. "Oh, Charles, see how long and firm you've become."
"All for you, dearest Mary," he answered.
"I must kiss it." At that, she fell to her knees before him and, cradling his sac in her palm, slid her mouth around the head of his cock and then down to take nearly all of his shaft.
All role playing now over, the vicar rested his hand on her head for balance and proceeded to thrust into her mouth. He made quite a sight, my dearest, standing mostly clothed but with his short pants tangled around his ankles. I’ll never look on him the same again without remembering this afternoon. I fear I’ll only have to see his face to break into titters.
Thus they proceeded for some time as the Reverend Hollyfield became more and more excited, his face contorting in the sort of pleasure a man only receives from enthusiastic oral sex. Eventually it became clear that Mrs. Rutherford would have to swallow a copious amount of his semen if they continued. But the good vicar was made of sterner stuff than that. Before his lover had pushed him past the end of his endurance, he removed his cock from her mouth.
Gripping the base of the shaft in his fist, he ordered her. “Now, dear Mary, you assume the position, and I’ll give you your just rewards.”
She fairly whooped her agreement - a very unmatronly sound. In a moment, she’d risen and then bent herself over the table in the same manner he had before. Similarly, she eased her hand between her legs, no doubt in search of her pearl. He didn’t hesitate to lift her skirts and take his place behind her naked rump. The respectable and upright woman of his congregation had worn no drawers. From now on, I’ll have to imagine her naked beneath her petticoats on Sundays. I’ll never keep my features even in church imagining the two of them undressed, but at least, the service will never again bore me, I assure you.
When his cock entered her body, she let out a loud coo of approval. They fucked merrily for the next several minutes, making animal noises far removed from their usual demeanor. Convinced I’d witnessed the most interesting parts of their performance, I decided to slip away before the final climax. But no, they finished with a loud duet that said they’d reached orgasm at the same moment. Quite a satisfying afternoon for both of them, I‘m sure. At that point, I slipped away quietly before the two of them could come to their senses.
Well now, my dear, it seems we’re not alone in our love of the forbidden if even the local representative of the Church of England should engage in such salacious play Though I felt no shame in our love before this, I shall certainly hold my head a bit higher in the future. I do hope this little tale amuses you and we may soon laugh over it together.
Until then, I remain,
Your devoted X
