Jenna Goes To Church Ch 05

T'was the Year of Our Lord 1739, and on a road bound for London, weary preacher and hymnwriter Charles Wesley had just arrived at a tavern.

"Innkeeper! I hath been riding all day and my poor horse be in the great need of water and rest. As am I." Charles said.

"Fear thee not, good fellow, I'll tend to thine horse!" The innkeeper replied. "If it's a room for the night you're looking for, then ye hath come to the right place. Here at the Lamb Inn, there's always a warm greeting for a weary traveller. I'll leave ye in the capable hands of my fyne wench Jen, who is adept at making gentlemen feel welcome..."

"Greetings to you sir!" Jen said, and Charles was a little taken aback by this stunning redheaded wench. "If you'd like to follow me, I'll lead you to your bedchamber." She picked up a candle and gave him a seductive smirk.

"Gladly, Miss!" Charles replied, following her up the creaking wooden staircase. In the main room, sounds of merriment filled the air as many men supped ale and enjoyed the company of willing wenches.

"I see you're a man of faith, sir," said Jen as she reached the top of the stairs. "Have you travelled far?"

"Aye, all the way from Bristol. I write many hymns. I'm going to visit my older brother John, who's in London. He's a preacher too. In fact he..."

"Oh gosh, of course! Your brother must be John Wesley, founder of that Methodist movement I keep hearin' about!"

"That's right! I'm Charles Wesley."

Jen entered the bedchamber. "Here we are, Mr Wesley. I trust the room is to your liking? This happens to be a new room - never been used before. Bed never slept in, chair never sat on, chamber pot never..."

"Ah, glorious!" Charles interrupted her. "It looks most excellent. I am indeed blessed to have been afforded such kindness. God is good!"

"Mmm, thanks be to God," Jen replied, eyeing up Charles. He was young and rather attractive for a man of the cloth. Most of the clergy she'd encountered in her life had been very old men.

"There be a fresh jug of water on the table for you, Mr Wesley. We're lucky here. The Lamb has a deep well which provides safe, clean water to drink. That's why we get so many visitors desperate to quench their thirst without worry of getting the flux."

Charles nodded as he put his bag down on the chair and removed his black robe. That four poster bed looked so inviting.

"Why don't you sit on the bed, Mr Wesley? I cannot help but wonder, after all that riding, do you not grow a little stiff?"

"Um...I am a little stiff, yes."

"Then come over here and sit beside me." Jen said, patting the bed. "I'd be interested to hear about your hymn writing."

Charles bashfully did as she asked. "Well right now, I am working on a "Hymn for Christmas Day." But I confess I have only written the first verse.

"Perchance could I hear this first verse?" Jen replied.

Charles nodded.

"HARK how all the Welkin rings

Glory to the King of Kings,

Peace on Earth, and Mercy mild,

GOD and Sinners reconcil'd!"

"I'd say that's a marvellous first verse," said Jen. "Very stirring...very uplifting. It makes one...rise to the occasion." Her hand had somehow ended up on his thigh.

"Oh do you think so? That pleases me greatly, Miss! Now if only I could complete it."

Jen removed her mobcap, revealing long, tumbling red locks. Charles gazed, mesmerised. "By all the saints, you're a pretty woman, Miss..."

"Jen...Mr Wesley, perhaps I can be of some help to you." She blew out the candle. "Oh my! Now we're in the dark. How careless of me! We'll just have to..."

"Ooh M-miss Jen!" Charles gasped as her hand groped him in an intimate place.

"I think you've risen to the occasion Mr Wesley!"

A few moments later and the good wench had relieved the dear Mr Wesley of his breeches and cast off the rest of his apparel, including a periwig. The preacher produced naked, stiff, and erect, a wonderful maypole. Jen put her hands to this fine example of maleness and her actions had the desired effect.

"AHHH! I think my inspiration is returning!"

"I'm filled with joy, Mr Wesley! T'is an honour to help you!"

"Joyful all ye Nations rise,

Join the Triumph of the Skies,

Universal Nature say

"CHRIST the LORD is born to Day!"

"That's a wonderful second verse!" Jen ran her tongue round the preacher's erect member, before taking his entire length into her mouth.

"Oh Lord in Heaven...I have given in to sin...but if the sin results in a completed hymn, will thou look upon me with mercy?" Charles gasped, as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

Jen withdrew. "The Lord will indeed pardon you, Mr Wesley. Now please relax and enjoy my help!"

"Ahhh...ohhh my God...thine tongue is divine, it feels so good!"

Jen sucked, licked and teased Charles' cock until he could take no more.

"Miss Jen! I'm going to spend! OHHHH YES!"

"Ahh, I have been anointed by your holy essence, Mr Wesley!" Jen giggled as she eagerly gobbled up his seed.

Charles' face bore an expression of utter bliss and satisfaction. "Oh Miss Jen. I am so grateful God delivered me to this inn. What sweet pleasures you have afforded me this evening!"

A furious knocking on the bedchamber door disturbed the blissful ambience.

"Jen! Jen! You need to get up!" a woman shouted.

"Is that...the innkeeper's wife?" Charles wondered, still dazed after his powerful orgasm.

Jen licked the remaining cum off the preacher's softening cock. "Mmf...sounds like Mother. But wait, Mother died of smallpox ten years ago, so how...?"

Everything seemed to fade away in a strange haze.

"Jen! You're going to be late for work! Wake up!"

Jenna finally awoke. "Huh? What?"

"Are you alright?" Her mum shouted. "Answer me or I'm coming in."

"Um yeah. I'm fine Mum!" She rolled over and reached for her smartphone. Squinting, she looked at the clock.

"Shit! I overslept!"

Breakfast was a rushed affair, with Jenna barely able to drink half a cup of coffee and a piece of toast.

"For goodness cake, slow down before you choke on that," her mum said.

"Can't believe I overslept. I set my phone. I've never done that before." Jenna said.

"Hey, we all do it sometimes. Though your exertions at church no doubt kept you up late. Your dad and I noticed how much time you've been spending at St. Michael's. Now feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but what's with the sudden obsession with church? You've never been interested before. You used to laugh at Gran for being in the Mother's Union."

"I guess the pandemic made me think about things differently," Jenna lied, trying to think up a good excuse. "I know I never attended church much before, but I never stopped being a believer."

"That's great, Jen. I'm glad it makes you happy. I just hope you're not spending all your time with old people, though. It's good to mix with people your own age."

"Oh there's a good mix of different ages at St Michael's. They're not all boomers, Mum. The curate, Yulia and Debbie aren't much different to me. And Reverend Morris....he's amazing."

"I'm sure he is," her mum replied, with a wry grin. "You out tonight?"

"Yes. Choir practice." Jenna grabbed her bag and car keys.

"By the way...who's Charles Wesley?"

"Um...what?"

"You were yelling his name over and over in your sleep. You must've been dreaming."

"Oh. Well he's a guy who wrote a lot of great hymns. He lived in the 18th century. He wrote that famous carol "Hark the Herald Angels Sing"...although the original words were different. Gotta go. Love you. Bye!"

Jenna's mum shook her head. "Charles Wesley? When I was growing up, I used to dream about Brad Pitt."

"I have GOT to get a place of my own," Jenna muttered to herself as she headed to the car. "That was cringe."

Jenna had prepared herself for her evening "choir practice" with Gordon, by wearing her best lingerie and a sexy dress that perfectly highlighted her curves and cleavage. The organist himself had also made an effort, by wearing his best suit and tie. With his black robe unfastened, he resembled an old-fashioned headmaster.

"Hello there!" Gordon said, grinning from ear to ear. Whoa, she looked drop-dead gorgeous. He was practically drooling like a dog in heat.

"Not so bad yourself, Gordon!" Jenna replied. "Love the suit. Now all you need is a cane."

"A cane?"

"To punish me with. You see, I've been a naughty girl. I forgot to practice that piece of music you mentioned."

"Oh dearie me," Gordon said, walking over to her. "Whatever am I to do with such a naughty girl? Never mind. I'm sure you can make it up to me some way..."

He sat down on the organ stool. "Come sit in my lap, Jenna. We're going to play a little tune together. I'm sure you can do it."

"Why Gordon, I'm not sure I can play this. It's a bit of a step up from the piano."

"Just give it a try. I'm sure you'll learn quick!" He winked. "Try the third manual," he added, indicating one of the keyboards.

Jenna bit her lip and slid onto Gordon's lap. She deliberated wiggled about a bit, causing him to let out a groan. "This seat is a little...hard!"

Jenna began playing the first few notes. "You're right, Kings and Queens does sound fantastic on a pipe organ. I'd have never guessed you were an Ava Max fan, Gordon."

"Hah, I'm not. Can't stand modern pop music. But the younger members of the choir are always begging for this song. You're great at this!"

As Jenna continued to play, Gordon began massaging her breasts and kissing her exposed neck.

"Ooh Gordon," Jenna sighed.

"There's a part-time job available..." he continued, between kisses. "An assistant choirmaster and pianist at the Sunday school. Three days a week. The school isn't just open on Sundays anymore. There's a creche and breakfast club on Wednesdays. They do after-school sessions for kids who have special needs. It's not bad money. I know you've got all the relevant qualifications. If you're interested, I could easily pull a few strings and get you in."

Jenna suddenly halted her playing. "Wow...are you serious?"

"Of course I am. Look, the young 'uns think I'm some kind of ogre. And they're probably right. But you...you'd be such an asset to the school. And tell me honestly, do you truly enjoy working in a call centre?"

"I hate it. The pay is shit and I hate my boss. Now she's a real-life ogre."

"Exactly. Your talents are wasted in a dead-end job like that, Jenna. It's up to you of course, but please give it some thought."

She turned round to face him. Kissing him hard the lips, she slipped her arms round his shoulders. "I've given it thought. I accept! Now why don't you let me thank you properly, Gordon?"

Jenna hiked up her dress, and unfastened Gordon's belt. She unzipped his trousers, pushed down his underpants, and his rock hard erection sprang free from its encumbrance. Unable to contain himself any longer, Gordon pulled aside the crotch of her damp panties, positioned himself to her entrance, and pushed himself into her. The soft lips between her legs parted, and she threw her head back in sudden ecstasy as the organist began thrusting himself in and out of her warm body, slowly at first, then building in speed.

Outside, a black 4x4 had just pulled up in the church car park. John Norris got out of the driver's side and furiously slammed the door shut.

"John please, don't do this!" his wife pleaded. "Not in the church!"

"Look Patricia, I want to get to the bottom of this. First Gordon angrily accuses me of spreading lies on Facebook. He called me "the biggest shit-stirrer in this church" to my face! Now the chaps at the Rotary Club have frozen me out. They said I've been making sexist jokes and racist comments about Ukrainians! I ask you, when have I ever made a racist comment? I haven't a racist bone in my body! And I've never signed up to Facebook either. Someone is trying to smear my name. If you ask me, Gordon's the one behind it all! Well, we'll see what he has to say, man-to-man."

A look of horror swept Mrs Norris' face. "You can't go in there! I can hear the organ - the choir are in there!"

"I don't care if the whole bloody town is in there!" John yelled, a display of anger that was most unlike him. "This has gone too far. I can't believe Gordon could be so vindictive. He'd a bad-tempered sod, but I never thought he'd do this. Libel is a serious offence."

He stormed into the church and marched down the aisle, his panicking wife rushing after him.

"Alright alright, it wasn't Gordon. It was me!" She grabbed his arm. He halted.

"What?"

"I did it."

John shook his head. "Why are you trying to protect him? Do you fancy him or something? Is there more to this?"

"No! No of course I don't! Look, I signed up to Facebook so I could access the church page but I used your name. I know I shouldn't have but...well surely you must know how members of this church treat me? I'd have been blocked immediately!"

John's face had gone through several shades of red and was now the colour of raw steak.

"You...DID WHAT? You've been spreading lies and racist comments using an account with MY name? What the hell am I married to?" He walked round the side of the organ. "Bloody hell!"

Mrs Norris shoved him aside, wondering what had shocked him. "That's her! She's the one who's caused all this! The little tart! She's bringing filth and depravity to this church!"

John glared at his wife. "I'd say your own venom has done that already, Patricia." He turned and stormed off. "I'm going home. To pack a few things. I'm going to stay at my brother's for a bit. And you...well you can go to Hell."

"Gordon, do you hear somebody shouting?" Jenna sighed as she felt his warm cum fill her.

"Probably just a bit of rowdy teen behaviour outside," Gordon replied with a smirk.