Fellatio Rites for the Ghost of John Wesley

By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

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Jenna took a deep breath as she approached Oakwood Road Methodist Church.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" Reverend Morris asked.

She patted his shoulder. "I'll be fine Simon. You don't need to
worry. It's the ghost of John Wesley, not Jack the Ripper. This is
exciting! I hope he'll appear!"

"Right, well, I'll be sat in the car then. I hope you won't be too
long. Remember, just turn and run the moment you feel in any way
uncomfortable."

"Reverend Morris, I think you're scared!"

"No I'm not! I can't help being concerned for the safety of the woman I love can I? Aren't you a tiny bit nervous?"

"I'm as cool as spring water," Jenna replied. "I was reading all
about John Wesley last night. He was a true gentleman. I'm sure this
won't take long."

Reverend Morris nodded as he watched his wife enter the church. "Well
if anyone can fix this, Jenna can. I don't know what she said to the
Archbishop of Canterbury last week, but he changed his mind about the
wall plaque faster than the Government does U-turns. I wonder what she
said to him? Whatever it was, Justin Welby was impressed!"

He reclined in his car seat. "I was so lucky to meet Jenna. Of
course, it was God who delivered her to me. That fateful Sunday morning
in the vestry, oh."

Father Aiden was walking along the street. Many things were on his
mind. He had some important decisions to make about his future in the
priesthood. Briefly glancing up from his smartphone, his heart jumped as
he spotted Jenna entering the Methodist church across the road.

"Holy Mother, " he muttered. A rush of excitement swept over him as
he recalled the intimate encounter he'd enjoyed a few weeks ago. It was
that which had spurred him to think about his future. He quickly crossed
the road.

"Hello Father!"

The priest almost dropped his phone. Someone was shouting at him from a parked car.

"Oh, Reverend Morris. Hello there." Damn, no chance of a repeat
encounter, he thought. "I've just seen your wife going into the
Methodist church."

"Yes, I hope she won't be long. I'm just waiting for her."

"Are you alright? You look a bit anxious, if you don't mind me saying."

"It's a long story, Father. I think you'd better sit down in the
passenger seat and I'll tell you. You've not heard about what's been
going on in Oakwood Road church have you?"

The priest looked confused. "Nope. Tell me more!" He opened the car door and sat down. I could do to unburden myself too."

"Okay, well, this might sound a bit weird."

"I can handle anything weird," Father Aiden replied.

"It's about ghosts. As a Catholic, what are your thoughts on them and have you ever seen one?"

Father Aiden thought about his answer very carefully. "Hmm. In
theory, billions of ghosts potentially exist because billions of human
beings have "lost" their bodies through death. Strictly speaking, these
disembodied souls are not ghosts because they have never become
discernible to any living people. Only those few souls whose presence is
seen or felt by others are truly ghosts. And their existence is real."

"So you've seen one?"

"Yes. Two actually. Once in Ireland when I was a child and another
when I was based in Liverpool. I was called upon to rid a family's home
of a troubled spirit."

Reverend Morris looked relieved. "That's good to know."

"The Old Testament also has a few ghost stories. The most famous one
is in 1 Samuel 28:8 thru 20. Here the inspired writer tells how King Saul
met with the ghost of the prophet Samuel." Father Aiden replied. "Have
you seen a ghost?"

"Yes. And not just any ghost, but the ghost of John Wesley! He's
haunting the Methodist church. That's why I'm here. Jenna's gone in
there to try and help him return to, the other side."

"Oh I see, then she must, wait, what?" Father Aiden did a double take.

"Thanks for coming' along Mrs. Morris," Reverend Ewing said, shaking
Jenna's hand. "I know you probably think this whole thing is crazy."

"Not at all! And call me Jenna. I'm a true believer. If my husband
says that you and he saw John Wesley, then I know it's true. But why
does John want to see me of all people?"

"Your hubby mentioned that your grandma is a Methodist?"

"Uh yeah. Bit of a tenuous link. Like Sir Henry Barrington-Smythe's horse."

"Huh?"

"Oh, never mind. Figure of speech."

"You Brits and your little quirks!" Reverend Ewing laughed. "I'm still getting used to 'em!"

"You said John usually appears in the vestry?"

"Uh-huh. Can be anywhere in the church, but he seems to like the vestry best."

"Right, well go and wait in there and say a few prayers, and see if
he appears. I'm not sure I can do anything, but I'll try my best."

Jenna entered the vestry. Everything looked perfectly normal in there. She closed the door and looked around.

"It always comes back to the vestry," she smiled to herself as she recalled when she first got to know Reverend Morris.

Suddenly, the row of gowns on the rail began to swing on their hangers. The temperature dropped, and Jenna rubbed her arms.

"Are you there, John?" She called out.

"Yes."

She spun round. There was no sign of the spirit. "Hey, come on, show
yourself at least. It's no fun talking to the invisible man."

"My sincere apologies," John replied, and slowly faded into view. For
the first time, Jenna was taken aback. "My God, you really are John
Wesley, "

He nodded and bowed. "Bless ye, for am so honored you hath come here.
If I may be so bold to say, you be a lady of great beauty my dear."

"Very kind of you to say, Mr. Wesley." Jenna said. "Why are you back in the land of the living? Aren't you happy in Heaven?"

"Ah yes," he began. "Happier than mortals can ever imagine. But you
see, I feel compelled to return to this realm every All Hallow's Eve. I
like to re-visit the places where I worshipped back when I was alive.
And it was in this very place where this church now stands that I
preached to crowds back in the autumn of 1778."

"You've got a lot of places to visit in just one night," Jenna said.
"I read all about you. You traveled all over England spreading the Word
of the Lord. Plus you went to America, the colonies, when you were
younger."

"Indeed I did, yes. To my regret, I lingered a little too long here,
for I found myself unable to return to the afterlife. The sun had
started to rise, heralding All Saint's Day. Thus, I am trapped here in
this church until next All Hallow's Eve. Only a tremendous release of
positive energy could allow me to return before then."

"Oh dear. May I ask why out of all the people in the world, you
wanted to see me? What can I do? My gran is a Methodist. Is that the
reason?"

"No Miss Jenna. It was your aura that attracted me. It's very strong.
I believe God himself must've embodied you with some sort of innate
goodness that allows you to help people."

"You're making me sound like some kind of saint! I assure you I'm
just a regular human being. I'm not particularly gifted in anything,
although I do try to be a good person, "

John had a rather dreamy expression on his face. "You remind me so
much of Grace Murray, a lady I loved and lost, only you be far prettier
than her."

It was then that Jenna had an idea. A huge grin spread across her
face. She'd read all about John Wesley's life and how unlucky he'd been
in love. "A tremendous release of positive energy, you say? I think I
know something which may cause that!"

John put his hands together. "You do? Pray, do tell, my dear."

"You need to experience an orgasm. What could be more positive than that?"

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh you know, " She tried to think of a period-appropriate phrase so he'd understand. "The en