He could hear them coming into the church. They were talking and laughing, turning on lights and pulling out chairs; they were getting ready to be good children of God. Well, most of them were. He eyed his telephone for the hundredth time in the past three days. His hand twitched to pick it up, and he nearly did. The laughter echoed through the darkened church again. Her laughter. He found himself standing and gathering the evening's lesson almost mechanically.
Just one more night, what would one more night hurt? He could be with her for another night of the sweetest agony a man could know and in the morning he would call Springfield and request to be removed. It's not like he'd ever touched her. He'd never said a single improper word to her. There was nothing outside of his head to indicate that he'd be the least bit unpastorly to a member of his congregation. Even the elders had no clue what evil sins were running through his mind.
"Pastor Mike! Sandy brought sugar cookies." Sandy's brother shoved the plastic box full of sugar cookies in his direction. He smiled politely and took one. Allan had been pushing Sarah in his direction since he arrived at the church. Allan would like nothing better than to see his sister as Mrs. Pastor Mike. Sandy smiled at him; she looked exactly like a half-blind cat he'd once owned. He can't say they hadn't warned him at seminary. Any unattached pastor was open season, particularly if he wasn't flat ugly. He smiled blandly around the room and took his seat at the head of the table. Sandy was still doing her half-blind cat thing and Allan was sharing sugar cookies with Hannah. Hannah . . .
His eyes managed to linger just long enough on her lithe body to imprint the swell of her breasts under the blue gingham into delicious memory, but not long enough to cause anyone– even Allan– the suspicion that he'd noticed. He cleared his throat and flipped through his book. The page was marked, but he wanted a few precious seconds to think about her upthrust nipples. They pressed so plainly against her dress that he wondered if she wore a bra.
All things considered and nipples firmly entrenched in his mind, the study went well. He waded through the Roman Road without once using the word nipples. He'd been terrified that he would make some glib slip of the tongue that would completely give him away. Instead, he was the perfect pastor who still had the perfect secret.
Allan, as always, stayed to help clean up and insisted on doing everything himself so Sandy would have another chance to make her move. He wasn't in the mood to put up with either of them. He thanked Allan for his help and went to his office before they could corner him. He shut the door politely in Sandy's face. He leaned his head silently against the cool wood and listened to the siblings arguing for a few minutes and then the door slam shut behind them. He relaxed against the door and sighed all the way from his toes. Now he had a few moments alone with his thoughts of Hannah.
He slammed his head against the door. He must be dreaming, Hannah's voice? The lamp on his desk clicked on, confirming that it wasn't a dream. She was leaning against his desk, smiling at him. He rubbed his eyes but she didn't go away. "Hannah?"
She smiled at him and his gut wrenched. "I wanted to talk to you in private for a few moments, if you don't mind."
He cleared his throat and nodded. He tried to keep his eyes on her face. Anywhere above her neck. Just as long as they were off of those nipples. They were poking against her dress still. The fabric molded them perfectly, two little points sticking straight out from a pair of beautifully rounded breasts. Her nipples cast twin shadows in the lamplight. "Wh-what did you want to see me about?"
"I'm going to commit adultery."
His eyes slapped to her face at that. The shock must have exploded across his expression because she giggled. Hope blossomed and so did a nasty curl of guilt. "But, but your husband. . ."
"I've made up my mind, Pastor Mike. I'm going to do it." She licked her lips and dropped her eyes to his waist.
"Hannah, as your pastor I must counsel you against this."
"I know what you have to do." Her hands twitched by her sides, then abruptly went to the buttons at her neckline. Her voice dipped, turning into a husky version of what was already liquid sex. "I know what you want to do."
"Hannah. . ."
One button gave way and then another.
"You can't do this. I won't let you."
Another button flicked up. One more and her lapels would sag enough to reveal the slopes of her breasts. "You want to fuck me, Pastor Mike."
The coarse word grated across his conscience and shoved his dick against his trousers. "No, I don't."
She laughed again, that smooth as a swig of old Kentucky whiskey laugh of hers. "You can go to hell just as quick for lyin' as for stealin'."
"Hannah, this is wrong. You're married. I'm your pastor. We can't do this." His five-year virgin penis wasn't listening either. It was steadily feeding a growing spot of wetness on his pants.
"I'm not wearing underwear, Pastor Mike. Do you want to see my titties?"
"Hannah. . ." He didn't know if it was protest or reverence.
"Come here, Pastor. I'll show you my nipples. They've been hard all night because they've been rubbing against my dress and I knew you were looking at them. You look at my titties a lot, don't you? You like my nipples?" She pulled her dress open enough to show him one proud breast and the thick, hard nipple that capped it. His mouth went alternately dry then wet. He was lost. Her thumb and forefinger circled that bit of brownish pink flesh that he wanted so desperately to suck and tugged on it. He watched as gooseflesh erupted over her arms and she moaned deep in her throat. "Do you like my breasts, Pastor Mike?"
"Oh God," he groaned, but it was too late to save him.
"Do you want to see my pussy, Pastor Mike?"
"Yes." More than anything.
She smiled at him, undid another button on her dress, and pulled it open all the way. Both of her breasts hung in the cool air of his office, just waiting to be touched. "Get on your knees and I'll show it to you."
"What?" He wanted to touch but didn't dare. It had been too long, it was too wrong, if he did he'd cum in his pants and it would be over.
"Right here, get on your knees right in front of me so I can show you my pussy. I want you to see it. I've been wanting to show you my pussy for months now, but I never had the courage to lift my dress during services."
He shuddered at the thought of her lifting her skirts to show him her most private areas in front of the whole congregation. Instead of fizzling him out with the thought of the reprisals, it turned him on even more. His knees bent and dropped to the thick carpeting in front of her. His face was so close to the piece of heaven between her legs that he could smell her. She smelled like earth, woman, and creamy sin.
The dress inched up past her knees. He wanted to rip it off of her and bury himself as deep inside of her as he could get. She wiggled her hips and lifted it farther, until the lamplight shone through the wet curls covering her sex. He stared in complete awe. The inner lips were bulging and swollen; he could see them peeking through the hair. Somewhere she had a little clitoris that he wanted to lick. He'd never seen a woman so wet in his life. Of course he was limited to a few quick fumblings in college over five years ago, so he didn't have much experience to rely on.
"Do you like my pussy?" She sounded a little uncertain, perhaps afraid that he wouldn't.
"I love your pussy." He loved saying the word. He relished the feel of it on his lips and the meaning behind it. The only thing better was the real thing laid out in front of him. "I love your beautiful pussy."
She wiggled some more and then shoved the dress down all the way. He looked up past the softness of her belly to her jutting breasts. His cock twitched and it was all he could do to keep from ripping his pants off and ruining his descent into sin with a quick orgasm.
"Hannah. . ." He didn't know what to say. She didn't seem to mind though. She edged onto his desk and spread her legs until he could see all of her cunt and even a part of her rosebud. Her fingers reached between them and pulled the lips apart, sliding through the wetness.
"I can't believe how wet you make me, Pastor. All I have to do is hear you say my name and I cream my panties. See?" She wasn't lying; her fleshed gleamed from it. Her fingers slipped into her pink hole then up through the labia to tickle her erect, little clit. Her body jerked and she swallowed a groan. "I like saying dirty words to you. I like masturbating for you. I think I'm going to cum soon."
"Me, too." He watched her fingers dance and had no doubt that he would go off like a rocket. Her hips jerked reflexively and she let out all of those sexy little grunts. She fell back across his desk, scattering papers everywhere, and arched her entire body. He needed to slap his hand across her mouth and shut her up, but he wanted to hear every sound she made echo through his office and the rest of the church.
In the end, he just jumped to his feet and ripped his clothes off. She was writhing on his desk and he couldn't stop himself from joining her, even he'd wanted to. His cock was ready to blow up in his fist when he stepped between her legs. He didn't think that she'd even noticed him until she lifted her head and screamed his name. That was all it took. He didn't even get inside of her. Her pussy lips kissed his dick and he came.
Even though he hadn't done anything, he was panting like a winded horse. His dick was still a little interested and his sperm dripped off of his fingers. He felt like the biggest piece of shit in existence. He wanted to cry, to scream. He was ready to break out the flog and change his name to Arthur Dimmesdale. There was nothing too horrible that he could do to repent.
Her legs moved, closing against his side and then sliding down his body like a pair of heated, loving serpents. She sat up, a lazy, contented haze in her eyes. Her lips touched his, clinging to him in a kiss that seemed ridiculously chaste and incredibly loving all at the same time. It was like being with a girl for the first time all over again. He closed his eyes and steeled himself to push her away.
"Mmm, that took the edge off." Her voice caressed his lips. He could feel her breath, taste her life. It was incredibly sweet to be this close to another person, Hannah in particular. Her hand wrapped around his penis, still sticky from both of their orgasms, and any thought of pushing her away flew right out of his head.
He wasn't quite sure how it happened, but one moment he was standing and the next he was leaning against his desk and she was kneeling between his feet. His dick stuck out obscenely next to her face and he thought he'd never seen a woman look sexier. Then she opened her mouth and touched the head with her tongue and he couldn't think at all.
He'd had high school blow-jobs from scared girlfriends, but they were nothing compared to this. Hannah took her time and relished what she was doing. The lust in her eyes was a clear as the rock hardness of his erection. She loved his dick, he could see her getting off on it. Watching her do it was almost more exciting than feeling her delicately lick along the shaft. Her tongue wrapped around it then lapped at it. Licks were interspersed with nibbles. She gave him a wicked smile then opened her lips and drew him inside.
Hot, wet, suction greeted him. The inside of her mouth was as welcoming as a steam bath. She sucked him, drawing his pre-cum out to sweep away with slow licks from the broad side of her tongue. His world narrowed to a few inches of penis and the burning cavern of her mouth. She took more of his dick inside, pressing the tip of her tongue against the sweet spot on the underside, just below the head. His saw stars.
She pulled him deeper insider of her, devouring his cock and the tatters of his resistance. Whatever she wanted him to do, he would do. Her magical mouth worked his dick over until it was so hard it hurt. Then she swallowed. The muscles of her throat squeezed the head of his penis and drew it down even deeper. He wondered, momentarily, how she could breathe past his meat, but he couldn't hold onto that thought with her nose pressed to his belly. She sensed his orgasm before he did and yanked her sweet mouth away from his needy dick.
"Please. . ."
"I want you to cum in my pussy, not my mouth, Pastor Mike."
"Hannah." He breathed her name like a sacrament.
She pushed things out of her way and bent over his desk. Her beautiful rump stuck upwards, a naughty testament to sin of the most delicious sort. He licked his lips and palmed her ass cheeks, savoring the feel of them. He didn't think he'd ever get to do it again and he wanted to remember the smooth skin and firm curves for the rest of his life. She wiggled, shoving against him. "Do you like my butt?"
"I love your ass, Hannah." He hadn't said ass out loud in well over five years. It felt wonderful to say it to her. He leaned down and bit it, then licked it. She squealed and thrust it at him. He pushed his cheek against the soft skin and breathed in the heady scent of her cunt.
The damp slit between her legs drew him like bees to honey. He wanted to touch it, rub his face in it, press his dick into it, he just wanted to be a part of it. She reached behind her and grabbed the flesh on either side of her pussy and pulled, opening it up to him. "Fuck me, Pastor Mike."
He didn't need to be invited twice. His dick wanted to renew its acquaintance with those pussy lips and he wasn't one to get in the way. He knew he should slow down and back off. He should do a little foreplay and pussy licking to get her off first. A gentleman always made sure the lady was satisfied before claiming his own. He nudged the head past her labia and grabbed her hips. It was too late to hop off of her. He had to slide his cock inside or he would explode embarrassingly all over her pussy again. He couldn't have stopped himself if half the congregation walked in on them right then. Not even the thought of Sandy and her wall-eyed stare could stop him.
"Oh, God, Pastor Mike, fuck me!" Her ass wiggled and her pussy swallowed a little more of his dick. His hips jerked and sank him in almost to the hilt. He pulled back a little for another lunge at it. She threw her head back and cried out. The glorious sounding of a woman in heat echoed through the sanctuary. She lifted her butt to meet him, gasping when he bottomed out. He reached around and grabbed her breasts, kneading them his fingers. She arched her back and rode him in ways he'd only dreamed of.
"That's it, Hannah, ride my cock. Fuck it." He said more things, but they were lost in a snarling haze of lust. He quit pawing her breasts to hold her hips in a vice grip. He pounded her hard, moving fast enough to send the stuff on his desk careening across the carpeting. He didn't care either. All he cared about was the exquisitely tight channel squeezing his cock like a boa constrictor devouring lunch. His dick felt huge and swollen inside of her. He could almost feel every bump and squeeze her inner muscles made with each thrust.
She grunted with every downstroke of his cock. He had the fleeting idea that it would be great if she came with him, but he didn't have the coordination to accomplish that. His entire body was focused on the few inches of erection inside of her. He couldn't feel anything else, just his dick. Her pussy spasmed on it, squeezing him. She cried out again and he lost it. He shoved his cock in as far as it would go and roared. His entire being jerked reflexively, trying to insinuate as much of himself as possible inside of her pussy. He felt like his soul was shooting through the tip of his cock into the center of her being.
When his brain finally returned to Earth she was sprawled on his desk and he was on top of her. His dick had shriveled and her pussy slowly pushed it out. The scent of cum was heavy, drowning out the usual overpowering smell of lemon furniture polish. His penis flopped wetly against his thigh and adulterous juices, both hers and his, trickled down his skin. The weight of regret settled between his shoulder blades and shoved straight down so hard he could barely breathe. He choked on his guilt, trying to swallow it. Dimly he felt her shuddering underneath him. The sound of a woman's tears penetrated the fog in his mind and he wanted to die.
"Hannah. . ." He didn't know what to say.
"I never knew it could be so beautiful." She pressed her forehead to his desk. "I never even knew it felt so good."
"But you didn't cum!" He pulled back and clutched at her hand.
"You made me feel, Pastor Mike. It felt so good." She threw herself into his arms and held him. "I felt like a real woman."
Despite the all encompassing guilt, he suddenly felt like the world's greatest lover. He was Don Juan, Casanova, and Romeo all rolled into one. And she hadn't even orgasmed. It wasn't too late, he could still make her cum. Then she would be truly satisfied. No. Sodomy was as against God's law as well as adultery was. It was bad enough that he'd let her suck his dick he wasn't going to make things worse.
"Pete says I'm frigid, but I never felt anything before. You were wonderful."
"You're not frigid. You're warm and loving."
She laughed, the sound merrily wrapping itself around his heart. "I can't orgasm."
If that wasn't a challenge to his maleness, he didn't know what was. "Who told you that?"
"Nobody. I just can't. Pete's tried for years, even bought my a vibrator. I just can't."
Her eyes widened and she giggled. "Pastor Mike! Don't cuss."
He tried to swallow his laugh, but it came out of his nose anyway. "I just fucked myself stupid with you and you're worried about a little word like shit."
"I've never heard you say things like that."
"I've never seen a prettier pussy." She looked just as pleased as she was embarrassed. He didn't know what ol' Pete was doing wrong, but he knew he had to rectify the situation. He would worry about his immortal soul tomorrow, when he resigned and joined an order of monks that lived on top of mountains where women didn't exist. "Why don't you lay down and let me get a good look at the pretty little cunt?"
Embarrassment warred with lust across her eyes. Lust won. Her knees drooped until the touched the carpet, then she eased onto her back. Her legs crossed each other, a testament to her uncertainty. It's not too late, the angel in him whispered, repent and let her alone. So far he'd only fucked it, he hadn't gotten intimately acquainted with it. Just looking at her from a respectful distance was intoxicating, what would happen to his soul if he tasted her fully?
Nervously she licked her lips then spread her legs. One foot slid to the right, propping itself up so the knee bent. The other followed suit. She was hot and wet enough to permeate the air with the smell of her sweet pussy. His nostrils flared and the angel lost whatever control it ever had over him. He dropped between her thighs and inhaled.
"Pastor Mike? What are you doing?" She propped herself on her elbows, apparently ready to pull away from him.
He grazed his knuckles over the wet pubic hair. "Do you know what my favorite thing in the world is?"
He met her eyes with his and smiled. It hadn't taken Sandy long to figure that out. She had that information the day he arrived and a fresh batch ready two hours later. He didn't think Hannah had noticed. "Not quite. My favorite thing in the whole world is pussy and you've got the sexiest one I've ever seen."