Jennas Candlemas

This Sunday had brought the heaviest rain so far of 2023. The weather had caused a notable drop in the number of people attending this morning's church service, Reverend Morris noticed.

Today was Candlemas, which commemorated the ritual purification of Mary, forty days after the birth of her son Jesus. This day also marked the ritual presentation of the baby Jesus to God in the Temple at Jerusalem.

After the service, and the usual tea, biscuits and chit chat in the church hall, Reverend Morris was eager to return to the vicarage. His wife had given him "that look" - and he knew what that meant. It had been a week since they'd made love, and as he had a feeling Jenna would be more than up for "a little afternoon sin," as she termed it.

Outside, the rain was still lashing down. Despite the vicarage being a five minute walk from the church, the vicar and his wife had neglected to bring an umbrella with them. By the time they arrived home, they were both soaked to the bone.

Reverend Morris' hair was wet, and the legs of his trousers clung damply to him, and the back of his black shirt was also soaked. He figured he was going to come down with a nasty cold if he didn't get into some dry clothes right away. Jenna evidently had the same thought, and they went straight upstairs to the master bedroom.

She opened the wardrobe doors, and he switched on a bedside lamp. Shivering, they stripped out of their wet clothes.

When they were nearly undressed, they glanced at each other. Their eyes locked.

Still, they didn't speak. They didn't need to.

He took her in his arms, and they kissed lightly at first, tenderly. Her mouth was warm and soft and vaguely flavoured with communion wine.

She clutched him, pulled him closer, her fingertips digging into the muscles of his back. She pushed her mouth hard against his, scraped his lip with her teeth, thrust her tongue deep, and abruptly their kisses grew hot, demanding.

Something seemed to snap in him, and in her, too, for their desire was suddenly marked by animal urgency. They responded to each other in a hungry, almost frenzied fashion, hastily casting off the last of their clothes, pawing at each other, squeezing, stroking. She nipped his shoulder with her teeth. He gripped her pert buttocks and kneaded them with uncharacteristic crudity, but she didn't wince or try to pull away; indeed, she pressed even more insistently against him, rubbing her breasts over his chest and grinding her hips against his. The soft whimpers that escaped from her were not sounds of pain; they clearly expressed her eagerness and need.

In bed, his energy was manic, and his staying power amazed him. He was insatiable, and so was she. They thrust and thrashed and flexed and tensed in perfect harmony, as if they were not only joined but fused, as if they were a single organism, shaken by only one set of stimuli instead of two. Every vestige of civilization slipped from them, and for a long while the only noises they made were animal sounds: panting; groaning; throaty grunts of pleasure; short, sharp cries of excitement. At last Jenna uttered the first word to pass between them since they had left the church:

"Oh my God!"

And again, arching her slender, graceful body, tossing her head from side to side on the pillow: "Yes, yes!" It was not merely an orgasm to which she was saying yes, for she'd already had a couple of those and had announced them with only ragged breathing and soft mewling. She was saying yes to life.

The vicar repeated the word as if chanting a sacred incantation—"Yes, yes, yes!"—as he emptied his cum into her a second time.

Spent, they stretched out on their backs, side by side on the dishevelled bed. For a long time they listened to the rain on the roof and to the persistent thunder, which was no longer loud enough to rattle the windows. Wind howled around the side of the house.

Jenna lay with her eyes closed, her face completely relaxed.

"Lovely service this morning, Simon!" She said at last. "Great choice of hymns."

"It certainly was. I think my sermon went down well. Shame about the weather."

"Hmm, I don't know - I think the rainy weather makes me much hornier than normal!"

"Happy Candlemas, Jenna," Reverend Morris replied.