The Corruption of Katherine Pt. 02

Mrs. Wilkins

A month later, snuggled in bed after another hot sex session, Katherine told me about a church lady called Mrs. Wilkins. She ran the ladies' auxiliary with an iron hand. No one was allowed in the church kitchen without the approval of Mrs. Wilkins. Mrs. Wilkins was informally consulted on every decision made by the church council. Mrs. Wilkins liked to see herself as the last bastion of Christian morality at St. Paul's Church. Mrs. Wilkins liked to spy on parishioners who might be drinking too much in public or seeing the wrong people in private.

Mrs. Wilkins was likely the reason the minister had finally had enough and resigned his post in frustration. The mysterious Dorset trip, it seemed, was a visit to the bishop to consult about his resignation from St. Paul's and a request for re-assignment.

With his departure, Katherine herself had been left in the middle of a difficult situation. The church now needed a new minister, but at this time of the year, most of the available clergy had been hired for the coming fall. As church secretary, it fell to Katherine to initiate and co-ordinate efforts to find a new minister. Summer meant vacations, and vacation time meant it was difficult to find available candidates. Newspaper adverts had garnered nothing. Her phone rang incessantly with queries from parishioners about when they would have a new minister or with suggestions for candidates, all of whom were unsuitable.

Worst of all was Mrs. Wilkins, who rang Katherine for daily updates and later dropped into the office, just to make sure Katherine was working hard on the problem.

Then one afternoon, Mrs. Wilkins dropped by to see Katherine and began with the usual questions about how the search for a new minister was going. Katherine did her best to update her, but she became increasingly nervous as the questions continued longer than usual and finally trailed off. But Mrs. Wilkins continued to stare at Katherine. Now very nervous under that ferocious gaze, Katherine stammered, "Is there anything else, Mrs. Wilkins?"

Mrs. Wilkins dropped her eyes with a self-satisfied smirk. "Well, my dear," she began, "I just thought you might like to know that I was walking the other day, last Thursday it was, along the Droveway in Brighton ... I'd been to the shops, you see and was going to visit a friend ... when I saw someone who looked a lot like you coming out of one of the flats there."

She raised her eyebrows inquisitively. Katherine's blood froze. "I ... I don't know anyone there," she managed.

"Oh, I think you do," smirked Mrs. Wilkins. "You see, I did some checking. On the computer, you know. It's very easy these days." She gave a nasty chuckle. "That address belongs to one N. Glossop and one Dorothy Wells. Now, it turns out that Ms. Wells is on the staff of a local estate agent, and most of the staff was away that day at a conference in Croydon. It was on the company website. Quite an important conference about changes to the Land Act, I understand."

Another nasty chuckle. "So you thought you'd just keep Mr. Glossop company when his wife was away? Or is she even his wife? They seem to own that nice flat on the Droveway together." The raised eyebrows of the inquisitor stabbed Katherine to the core. She remained silent. What could she say? What did this terrible woman want?

"And then," Mrs. Wilkins continued, "I followed you twice more after work. You've been seeing a lot of Mr. Glossop, haven't you? His whole body, in fact." She smirked again in a menacing way. "I have the pictures to prove it."

Triumphantly she flipped open her mobile phone and stuck the screen in Katherine's face. The photo was obviously taken through the front window of my flat through a gap in the bordering hedge. It clearly showed Katherine and I snogging on the sofa. My hand was lodged between Katherine's willing thighs, massaging her pussy through her trousers.

Katherine hung her head in shame, but tough girl that she is, she recovered enough to demand bravely, "So what are you going to do about it?"

Mrs. Wilkins laughed the first genuine laugh Katherine had ever heard from her. "Why nothing, my dear. As long as you agree to my little game." Katherine was silent, wondering what her game could be.

Katherine knew to her core that this nasty woman could make things very unpleasant for her. She was capable of blackmail by threatening to reveal Katherine's dalliance with me to the staff and congregation at St. Paul's. Katherine would no doubt lose her job as secretary to the minister. If the word spread beyond the church, she could even lose the few clients she had developed building a business as a psychologist. It was best to play for time, so she asked, "What kind of game, Mrs. Wilkins?"

"Well," said the starched and prim diva, settling back on her chair in front of Katherine's desk. "It's a game I think you'll like. You see, my dear, I've been in the same spot you are. I've been divorced and alone for many years, and I've tried it with men with no great result. I don't like the sex on TV or on the computer, but I found, quite by chance, that I like to see it done for real." She paused for effect. "Does that shock you?"

Actually, it did. Katherine was quite stunned to hear Mrs. Wilkins mention sex, let alone admit she was a voyeur. Katherine prompted, "For real, Mrs. Wilkins?"

"Yes," returned the elderly lady with a faraway look. "You see, my young niece Heidi was staying with me while she was at Business College here, and one day, I was sitting quietly in the kitchen with my tea when I heard her come in. Well, she had a young man with her. They didn't hear me, but I could see them on the sofa through the kitchen door. She had it off with him in no time, right all the way, panting and grunting. Ho, I must say, he was quite well equipped."

Katherine stared at her in disbelief. Mrs. Wilkins was confessing to witnessing sexual intercourse and enjoying it? "Ho, yes, and I found I was quite wet and ready to pleasure myself. So I did." It seemed unreal. Katherine could hardly imagine Mrs. Wilkins pleasuring herself. Yet when she looked again, she realized Mrs. Wilkins had a sturdy frame and strong constitution and a love of life. She probably did enjoy sex when she was younger.

"Anyway, it seemed to relieve all my tensions and worries for a time. It really set me up for the next week or so, and I began to look forward to another episode. Unfortunately, my niece was more careful and I became quite frustrated. So eventually I spoke to her, told her what I had seen and experienced, and asked if I could watch again. The dear girl was a little frightened. I suppose she thought I would tell her mother. But she eventually agreed, so we began having weekly sessions in my bedroom, them on the bed naked and having each other, and me on my nice wing chair in the corner, pleasuring myself as I watched."

"Well, long story short, since my niece and her boyfriend attended St. Paul's, they knew other young couples who were similarly engaged in, well, physical activities. I encouraged her to invite them over in the evenings and allow me to view their proceedings, as I called them. They were shy at first, but oddly enough, they found that when they shared their privates with each other, the pleasure they got was much, much greater. So we now have several couples who come over regularly at my invitation. And now I'm inviting you and your beau." She paused. "Actually, given what I now have," she waved the mobile with the photo, "you really have no choice, have you?"

Katherine thought about this for only a second. "When and what address?" she replied.

Later as we snuggled in my flat, I listened to this, snuggled against her warm, fragrant nudity. Like Katherine, I worried about what the gathering at Mrs. Wilkins' house might mean. But I didn't want Katherine to lose her job, and I realized that I was also very aroused and very curious.

The following Sunday after church, Dot was away with a friend at a live theatre performance in Ipswich. Katherine and I met at my flat and drove to Mrs. Wilkins' house in Hollingbury Place in Brighton. We parked on the street and knocked on the door. Mrs. Wilkins let us in to a beautifully furnished living room with a bay window that looked out on the street. The curtains were drawn.

One large sofa with pink flowers had been placed under the window and another in faux brown leather against the opposite wall. Between them on the floor was a large mattress with a lovely blue satin cover. Seated on the sofas were three other couples. They varied in age, the gentlemen older than the girls. We shook hands nervously in greeting and took seats on the sofa under the window.

Mrs. Wilkins took her place in a large leather chair at the head of the mattress where she could have a full view of the proceedings. She was wearing a loose fitting skirt and a blouse that barely concealed her generous bosom.

"Well," she announced. "We're all here and have been introduced, so it's time to draw lots. Here, Nigel. Pass the hat around." This seemed to be a regular protocol for the "proceedings". Certainly Mrs. Wilkins left no doubt that she was in charge. She handed the man sitting to her right an inverted bowler hat that contained slips of paper.

Nigel took one and passed the hat to the next man. It then crossed to room to the third man, who was sitting beside me under the window, then back empty to Mrs. Wilkins.

I looked at her inquisitively. "Oh don't worry, my dear," she said to me. "Your position is last because you're new. These folks have all done this before, and I've found it makes a new couple much too nervous to go first. They don't ..." She hesitated, looking for the words. "They don't perform well." She chuckled, and the others smiled in acknowledgement of this truth. "So who are the lucky people who drew Number One?" she asked, looking around the room.

The chap beside me nodded and replied in a West Country accent, "It's us, m'am." He and his lady rose and stood in front of Mrs. Wilkins.

"Remove her clothes," she commanded. The chap, whose name was James, did as he was told. His lady, Patricia by name, was nicely built, of medium height, with blue eyes and regular features. Her hair was honey blonde, thick and wavy, and hung below her shoulders. She wore a navy jumper and grey track pants. Raising her arms, she let James pull the jumper over her head, revealing a sports bra. The track pants came down next after removing her trainers, revealing white cotton sports panties. He unhooked her bra and passed it off down her arms, giving her tits a tweak as he did so.

"Turn her around so they can see," Mrs. Wilkins directed, twirling her index finger. James turned Patricia to face us and knelt to slowly pull down her panties, revealing soft honey curls covering her vulva. His left hand tweaked her nipple again while his right slid down into the furrow between her legs.

"Alright," commanded Mrs. Wilkins, "pass her around and remove your clothes." Patricia moved off to her right to stand with a shy smile in front of first one gentleman, then the other sitting on the sofa against the wall. Each pulled her close and fondled her large tits and her pussy. As she crossed the room, I was already getting stiff anticipating my turn.

Katherine had been nervous as we observed these initial proceedings, anticipating what might happen to her, but as I fondled Patricia's genitals, she showed signs of jealous disapproval. I shrugged and gave her a look as if to say, "What can I do? It's what Mrs. Wilkins wants to see." So I pinched Patricia's nipples and handled her vulva, pushing a finger into her vaginal canal and enjoying the warm wet feeling in there.

Meanwhile, James was now down to his skivvies, and Mrs. Wilkins herself was pulling down his pants to reveal his erect penis. She grasped it and rubbed her hand up and down his shaft appreciatively. "Very good, young people, "she said as Patricia returned to James's side. "Get at it. I'm going to pleasure myself, and I'm sure the others will too."

James led Patricia to the mattress and laid her on her back. She blushed as James pushed her legs apart and looking straight at me, pointed to her pussy, now bedewed with moisture, as if to say, "Look at that cunt. Isn't it a stunner? I'm get to fuck that."

I found later that this was only Patricia's second visit to Mrs. Wilkins' sex sessions, and she was still embarrassed to let a strange man (me) see her feminine treasure, much less see it fucked. James knelt and introduced his long penis into her waiting vagina.

There commenced a great fucking: long and deep strokes followed by short fast ones, panting and heaving of bellies, white foam around the vaginal lips as the penis plunged in and out, and sighs and moans of intense pleasure followed by her shrieks as she climaxed.

Katherine was spellbound. She had never seen porn or watched others naked and screwing. What she thought would be tawdry and horrible turned out to be, to her great surprise and confusion, a grand spectacle that aroused her sexual feelings: stirring, stimulating, and thoroughly pleasurable. Her whole body began to quiver. She couldn't take her eyes off the sweet conjunction of James's cock in Patricia's cunt as it pounded away inside.

Mrs. Wilkins had pulled down the top of her blouse to reveal a flabby breast and a nipple with a large, dark aureole. She was circling it sensuously with the tips of her fingers, obviously enjoying the spectacle on the mattress in her own way. Her other hand had disappeared under her skirt. I thought, "Good on you, old girl. In spite of all your faults, you have done a great thing here. Long may your secret live."

James was now pounding Patricia's pussy hard and coming in great gobs of semen that flowed out around his penis. She clutched his arse close and spread her legs wide to take him deep as they continued to heave and spasm in the aftermath of intercourse. His thrusting slowed as his penis shrank and fell out of her moist lips.

Mrs. Wilkins leered as James's white semen dribbled down Patricia's wide open pussy cleft onto her bum hole. One hand fingered her right nipple while the other disappeared under her skirt and under her panties. A handy white towel was thrown onto the mattress, and Patricia mopped herself up self-consciously to the muted applause of the audience. She and James were handed lovely soft white bath robes, and they sat down together, flushed and breathing heavily.

Next up was Harvey, one of the chaps across from me on the leather sofa. His mate was Sofia, a dark buxom beauty of Middle Eastern ancestry. They approached Mrs. Wilkins and received the same instructions. Harvey stripped Sofia, turning her at the last to face us as he pulled down her panties, revealing her luxurious black pussy bush, the vaginal slit barely visible behind the thatch.

I explored it thoroughly when it came my turn with her, opening the sex lips to reveal the pink interior of her labia. Then they were on the mattress, Sofia on her hands and knees, Harvey pushing the head of his short, thick penis into her vaginal depths. After a vigorous doggy fucking, he flipped her over on her back, showed us her pussy as he spread her legs and her vulva, and then drove his cock up her cunt, falling onto her heaving belly and fondling her ample breasts as he thrust rhythmically into her vaginal depths.

As Harvey accelerated his thrusts into Sofia's pussy, she began to pant and moan in increasing tempo with his grunts of pleasure. His heavy cock and balls rose and fell directly over her mound of Venus and foam coated his cock and her bum hole.

After a series of fast, hard fucks into her cunt, Sofia screamed "Aaaaarrrnnnggh" as she climaxed, and Harvey let go with his own climax, pumping great gouts of semen into her vagina. When he reluctantly pulled his penis out of her love nest, his sperm flowed down her ass cheeks in a white rivulet. Mrs. Wilkins was breathing heavily now and rolling her eyes, and her hand busy under the waistband of her panties, her skirt now above her ample thighs revealing the outline of a full-lipped cunt.

Last to do the dance of love in front of the assembled group was Nigel and his lady, Amber Morley. I had met Amber at church and quite liked her, aside from her obvious feminine charms. Amber after Nigel undressed her proved to be a buxom lass with big creamy freckled breasts, wide hips, and a cushy tummy. Her pubic hair, like her head, was ginger (just my style), and her pussy had luscious thick vulva lips and a pouting clit. I know they were luscious because I examined them thoroughly before Nigel got on with laying her on her back and spreading her legs.

He was slow and deliberate, paying court to her slit with his tongue before showing us a sensuous intromission of his penis into her vaginal depths. His rhythm was steady, with pauses to catch his breath and check Amber's responses. Mrs. Wilkins now had her skirt around her waist and her panties to her knees revealing a dark brown pubic thatch streaked with grey hair and dribbles of come as she frigged herself with her fingers. Quite the tableau, really. I was quite enjoying it.

Katherine, on the other hand, seemed mesmerized and not a little fearful. It's always tough being the last on stage; it's the waiting to perform that produces maximum butterflies. Despite her arousal, she knew her turn had come to expose herself in front of these strangers and the redoubtable Mrs. Wilkins.

Nigel finished in Amber with a flourish, waving his shrinking penis streaked with semen and her sex fluid over her ginger thatch. When they had returned to their seats, the whole group started to relax, snuggling into their warm robes and into each other. Mrs. Wilkins recovered enough to pull down her skirt a bit and address Katherine and me. "Your turn now, my dears. You've seen our little ritual. Just follow the steps, and I'll prompt you if you forget." She nodded at us pleasantly.

Katherine seemed to relax a bit at this—at least there seemed to be some decorum and predictability in this lascivious routine—but she was still quite certain that she didn't want these strangers to see her private parts. I hoped she didn't think of them as quite strangers any more. After all, she'd just seen them close up and very personal. And it was about to get more personal, because the wily Mrs. Wilkins had a surprise up her sleeve.

So we repeated the activities we had witnessed. I led her to Mrs. Wilkins and turned her to face the others, removing her blouse and skirt, and then unhooking her bra. She flushed and tried to cover her breasts, but I gently removed her hands and fondled her nipples a bit. I noticed the three men on the sofas were leaning forward to inspect this new bit of all right. So as I knelt, I decided to give them a bit of a show. I pulled down her panties with exaggerated slowness, exposing her luscious pussy almost one pubic hair at a time. I pushed her legs wide apart as she stepped out of them so they could see the mossy grotto beneath her lush thatch.

I sent her around the sofas in the approved manner and began removing my own clothing, noticing all the while that each man took some considerable time with the new pussy, rubbing and smelling and inserting fingers. A tap on my shoulder from Mrs. Wilkins reminded me it was time to display my own wares, so I dropped my shorts and stood in front of her with my penis quite erect after all the arousing sex I had witnessed.

Her hand was soft and bony yet firm as she grasped my stiff stander, but she showed knowledgeable technique as her finger tips played around the edge of my glans penis, sending shivers of sexual arousal down my shaft and into my whole body.