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Time Out
by Deborah

( "Time Out" is Part Three of the sexual story of my life. "The Sophomore Jinx" which was posted on 10/1 was Part Two. I am purging my soul. Telling of my past "sins" is part of my repentance. )

The summer after my sophomore year of college I had reason to take time out. Time out from my sexual adventures. I had reason to question the morality of what (and who) I had been doing.

My girlfriend Roxanne begged me to go to church with her that summer. "More fun than you can possibly imagine," were her exact words.

Finally I said "Yes." Quite often in fact.

Although I was born and raised a Catholic, I had attended many different churches of many different denominations. I was searching for answers and a spiritual awakening.

Roxanne's church was unique in that they did something I had never encountered before. I mean, I could wiggle and squirm on the floor and do my fake orgasm routine like they do on the Benny Hinn Show, but this was new stuff.

"Dirty dancing!" I exclaimed to Roxanne the first time I saw the guys and girls gyrating in the name of God. Well, they called it "dancing in the spirit" and it progressed to even more fun; "spiritual connections."

A "spiritual connection" was a powerful bond formed between you and your partner as you danced. This was a new way Jesus was visiting the church and perfecting love, according to Pastor Bob.

Of course, these "spiritual connections" were never between a husband and wife because it was taught there were too many hurts built up over the years in a marriage for this to work right. These "hurts" were healed in a "spiritual connection" with some new partners and then the married or otherwise significantly involved couples would leave this "connection" and return to their same old boring relationship.

And I thought frat parties were wild and crazy. My God, these holier-than-thous were horny!

The "dancing in the spirit" was big fun but I never really got into it until somebody played a waltz. I said to Roxanne, "I can get down and dance to anything, but a waltz?"

I could feel the juice squirt right out of my cunt when I heard Ravel's "La Valse." Before long, my first "connection" named Raymond, the Assistant Pastor, asked me to come upstairs to his office and get my free bible. Before you could say "King James" he had me on my back on the floor with my dress up and my panties down. Raymond kept chanting "ONE two three, ONE two three" as he pounded away inside me.

Well, this went on like five times a week; Wednesday night, Friday night, Saturday afternoon and twice on Sunday. I never started to get the "itch" again, if you know what I mean, until Tuesday night or Wednesday morning.

I suppose it was inevitable. Pastor Bob made it a point to establish a "spiritual connection" with me.

Pastor Bob convinced me he talked to God and that he could cure me of my sexual sinning. "Repent you harlot!" he yelled at me over and over as he anointed me with his own personal holy fluid. He really got turned on when I mumbled in tongues with his cum dripping out of both sides of my mouth.

I told Pastor Bob all the details of my past sexual history. He seemed particularly interested in escapades with my girlfriends in puberty.

I swear, he made me talk about my first best pal Melissa at least a hundred times and how we played with each other's tight little pussies and fumbled our way to our first orgasms. Pastor Bob made me tell about our vibrators and other sex toys. "Am I better than that 8" Loving Touch Vibrator?" he asked over and over. "Yes!" I lied each time.

Pastor Bob's wife was handicapped and wheelchair bound. He said she gave him permission to engage in sex with other women which of course meant it was not adultery and not a sin. "How many wives and concubines did King Solomon have?" he kept asking me.

For some reason, Pastor Bob was particularly fond of oral sex, with him mostly being the sole beneficiary. I would suck his cock slowly and softly for hours while he would tell me bible stories.

"Girls playing with girls is not a sin you know. Are we really to believe that our biblical heroes with multiple wives and concubines never did a threesome or foursome? Now, a 300some might be a stretch. Obviously polygamy is not prohibited by the bible. Picture this ... Our biblical hero spends the night with five of his ladies. Our hero takes care of business with one, and while he rests for a short spell, the ladies play with each other while the hero watches. Do you really think this guy needs to spend $10 for a Viagra pill?"

Well, everybody in the church knew what was going on and most of them were doing it too. And then one dude who wasn't getting any, got it all on tape. Pastor Bob, quite the innovator, turned the incident into a religious experience. He called it his "feeding the fish" revelation. There was Pastor Bob and three of us fishes, Roxanne, Carolyn and me.

On the tape Roxanne and I were double-teaming his cock while Carolyn was giving him a black kiss. She definitely had an anal fixation and the only way she would take it is up the ass and liked to reciprocate with her tongue.

The following Sunday was quite enlightening in a spiritual sort of way. Pastor Bob was screaming on the pulpit, "I never had sex with those women!"

Pastor Bob opened his bible to 1 Corinthians 14:34, "Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak ... " Everybody in the church service shouted "Hallelujah!" and "Amen!"

"God has commanded me to keep these mouthy bitches quiet," the preacher continued as he motioned for the three of us fishes to approach the pulpit.

Pastor Bob unzipped his pants and pulled it out. He grabbed Roxanne by her long hair and forced her down in front of him. "Oh virgin daughter of Babylon, repent, kneel down before the prophet."

Then somebody started the VCR and projected you know what on the big screen behind the pulpit.

Well, I was totally pissed off. It had taken me considerable effort and research to perfect my deep-throating techniques and I did not appreciate making this public knowledge. I had intended to copyright my "method," but never got around to it.

So I stomped out of that church and never went back. I have been tempted, though. Roxanne told me they are now into encounter weekends where they get naked and participate in biblically correct sexual relations.

According to Roxanne, "We re-enact Genesis, chapter 2, where Satan seduces Eve and impregnates her. Much beguiling (sneaky fucking) is the theme of encounter weekends. The guys get to make believe they are fallen angels and pretend they have big ones, and I don't mean feet. We depict an orgy as depicted in Exodus, chapter 32, except ours is biblically correct. The Song of Solomon is the crowning climax of the weekend, certain multiple orgasmic."

I spent most of the rest of the summer with my favorite priest.

It all started with my confession. I'm telling the Pastor Bob story in the booth and I hear the priest making strange noises, like "Ahhhh."

Well, I didn't know, he could have been having some sort of attack. So I opened the door to his side of the booth and peeked in.

Father Joseph was jerking off. "Here, let me do that for you, Father," I purred as I pried his hand from his cock and replaced it with my own.

I soon substituted my mouth for my hand. Father Joseph stammered, "Ohhh, you are so much better than the altar boys!"

Confession became part of my daily routine for the rest of the summer.

Lucky for me there was not a run on confessions at that time and Father Joseph and I would spend hours in the booth. Roxanne had piqued my interest in the Song of Solomon, and I encouraged Father to read it to me. "Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins" he read from chapter 4, verse 5, as I sat on his cock and he licked and pulled the tips of my nipples.

"Let me read to you!" I demanded. "Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits" I read from chapter 4, verse 16.

I taught Father Joseph the pleasures of and proper techniques for cunnilingus. He was so incompetent. "Well, it's not my fault. How are you supposed to know how to please a woman when the only thing you have had in your mouth in years is little altar boy dicks?"

Well, let me tell you, I made him practice and practice some more until he was eating pussy in his sleep. I still hear reports from his church that the nuns are now one smiling bunch of penguins.

A few days before I had to return that institution of higher learning, I met up with a rabbi. I'm jogging with the Walkman singing, "Wild women do, and they don't regret it."

Rabbi Elzaphan pulled over and engaged me in conversation. "Are you a Jewish princess?" he asked with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

I spent the next two days showing him the real meaning of "kosher sex" and he rendered his interpretation of scriptures pertaining to Sodom and Gomorrah. He was an incredible lover. Only thing I didn't like, he smelled of sheep and he kept begging me to say "baaa, baaa" when he stuck it in me from behind.

As a result of my spiritual experiences that summer, I learned some important lessons. Due to the religious counseling so compassionately provided by the pastor and the priest and the rabbi, it became rather obvious to me that God likes erotic. Ever since, I do what the tantrikas do. I pray at the time of orgasm. Don't tell me I'm not religious. I pray every chance I get.


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