Sunday Morning Church

She is doing it to me again and yet remains unaware.

I am watching my beautiful wife of 20 years slowly get dressed as I put on my shirt and tie. Generally conservative and reserved the last thought on her mind involves seduction at this hour of the day. I could ask no more of her as she has given her life to raising and educating our children. I am grateful for her and the way she gracefully handles the many details and surprises of life with our two young children. She is oblivious to my rising desire for her as we dress for church. The not so gentle sounds of my two young sons interrupts the moment and snaps me back to the reality that we will be late if we don't hurry ourselves along.

The ride to church is uneventful until she crosses her legs four or five times in an effort to be more comfortably seated. Of course, in my finite male mind, I interpret this as a subtle sign that she enjoys the friction of nylon against nylon and may be ready for deep caresses and kisses later in the day. This is an incorrect interpretation of the sort that I have come to accept during our marriage. The sound of our children arguing in the backseat seals the deal crushing another erotic urge.

Properly seated in our regular pew we greet friends attending the service. We all wear attire that is more formal than that which we wear Monday through Saturday. It is during these moments that my amiable nature disguises the growing erotic burn inside of me.

Why these feelings regarding church and sex? Not because I wish to rebel against any particular religious teaching. Sex and more importantly love is indeed a gift from God that I respect and cherish. Our minister begins his 45 minute sermon on total depravity and original sin. He's very likable but makes for a better professor of theology than an inspiring public speaker. He drones on and several in the congregation retreat to their own private thought world.

It is during the sermon that my mind begins to wander. I mean no disrespect but I imagine the intoxicating scent of recent sex emanating from between the legs of many of the women in the prim and proper congregation. I sense the sexual frustration of the single mom whose husband abruptly left her because he lost his job and foolishly convinced himself that he did not to be married any longer. Her newborn suckles at her breast discreetly covered beneath a blanket. Those that sit near her smile at the sound of the cooing satisfied infant.

Suddenly, I have stepped back to that moment in bed when I discovered that my wife desired something beyond pure vanilla sex . Her sex drive while pregnant with our second son rocketed out of sight. She was plump and full and beautiful. She desired cuddling and loving on a regular basis. Her breasts blossomed to twice their normal delightful size. She was always moist to the touch and opened like a flower within seconds of the first graze of my fingers. She was cavernous inside and ravenous outside. My penis found a warm, responsive and receptive place inside of her each night. Soft, slow, hard or fast, it all made her happy. I could not get enough of her body. She was welcoming me deeper inside than ever before. My tongue no longer lightly poked and prodded with gentle but insistent attention. Instead, I felt as if I could swallow her whole from the inside out with a hunger she had never seen in me before. As with both of her pregnancies, we had sloppy, wet, laughable, farting noise sex right up until a few hours before she went into labor. I can only imagine that her obstetrician had to feel her way through a river of my semen to get to the baby inside.

The minister's sermon has turned to fire and brimstone and I am jerked back to reality. I adjust the clothing around my crotch to hide my arousal. All it took was the thought of the young single mom combined with the nylon crossed legs of my wife sitting next to me to transport me to another place. All of me is now back in the present tense. My right hand rests gently on my wife's left thigh just above her knee. Nothing suggestive yet but during the last half of the sermon I cannot promise to be good. Again, being a male I expect that this gentle touch of mine will cause her to turn wet with desire dampening the wine colored pew cushion beneath her fine bottom. Instead she looks annoyed that I have distracted her attention from the pronouncements at the pulpit. All I really want to do right now is kneel down before her and bury my tongue and face in her gaping glistening vagina. I am of the school that ladies always come first unless my balls are absolutely about to bust so I am willing to stay there for as long as it takes to satisfy my bride.

I am now back in my own little Private Idaho. Desire owns me for the moment in this holy and reverent place. I recall drinking in my wife's breast milk while softly circling her clit with my fingers. Her orgasms were powerful and prolonged and I felt like a bona fide stud brimming with confidence. My hand now squeezes my wife's thigh a little tighter. I'm moving slowly up her leg in delicate fits and starts. She will either discreetly brush away my hand or she will let me continue my journey. Her legs are uncrossed and parted ever so slightly. I can smell her. I can practically taste her. If she put her tongue on the tip of my cock she could taste me too. But none of that is going to happen. Her left hand pulls my fingers loose from her thigh. She quickly crosses her legs again and I am thwarted from my erotic destination.

Of course I refuse her logical hint that this is neither the time nor place to be copping a feel. Having more stubbornness than smarts is a male affliction. My wife's attention is back on the minister and all I can imagine is bending her over the pew in front of us and delivering my cock over and over again into her luscious behind. Another pregnant sex flashback with more uninhibited, delicious and comical sex .We are not self conscious at all. Anything goes. I am able to plant myself firmly in her ass with my fingers sent out on a search and enjoy mission to spread her vulva and dip inside to caress her G spot.

Now I am the one in the pew with legs spread apart slightly wider than normal. I imagine my wife kneeling down in front of me and returning the favor of exquisite oral sex.

Suddenly the congregation has gone to prayer. It's a wake up call for each of us that has been indulging our imaginations while the sermon was preached. It will only be a few more minutes until we are back in the car for the return trip home.

While driving I decide to make sure that I time my visit to our bedroom to coincide with my wife removing her clothes. Rarely does this work as planned but today is my day. We are able to make quick and satisfying love in this private moment that leaves us both panting for more yet confident in the knowledge that we will continue later in the evening

Just as quickly we are back down to the kitchen to make lunch with the taste of my wife still on my tongue, face and fingers. I'm already looking forward to next Sunday

This is my first submission to Literotica.com and welcome supportive and constructive feedback. Thank you.