tagNon-EroticCamille and the Preacher Man

Camille and the Preacher Man


The moon, riding high in the sky that night, cast a silvery light over the small town. In a brick bungalow at the top of a hill, moonlight shone through the bedroom windows, revealing a man on his knees beside the bed. Resting his elbows on the bed, he clasped his hands tightly.

Reverend Paul Trent's light brown hair was wavy, long on top and trimmed close around the sides. His face, neither handsome nor homely, was that of an everyday man. Only in his eyes could one see the fire and spirit that burned within. He bowed his head.

"Lord," he prayed. "I guess You know what I'm asking again tonight. I'm praying for strength and willpower. I keep having impure thoughts about Camille. I can't help it. Since Susan passed away last year, I surely miss the pleasure a woman can give a man. But I'm so much older than Camille, and I'm her own pastor. I knew her as a child; watched her grow up. So I know it's wrong to want to hold her in my arms and take my pleasure with her."

He paused, then went on in a softer tone. "Yes, the skirts she wears are too short, Lord. She flaunts her long pretty legs, and wears those low cut blouses that show part of her bosom. She shouldn't dress like that, but she does."

"The way Camille sways her hips, and looks at a fellow a certain way, with that gleam in her eyes. We both know how that sets a man to thinking."

Now speaking in a more forceful manner, arguing his case in earnest, the reverend continued, "But Lord, she is still your child. So there has to be some goodness and decency in her. I want to find that. Instead of having sexual desires for Camille, I pray you'll show me the way to her heart."

"It's like this, Lord. I believe You and the devil are fighting for that sweet girl's soul. And I'm the one best able to fight for You. So I'm praying for the power to resist Camille's charms. To free myself of this fascination I have with her body, and to find the virtue within her."

"I'm asking a lot, Lord, I know that. My son and daughter are grown now and moved away. I've been so lonely this past year, and she's a beautiful young woman. And, she's a fallen angel. Men lust after her, and too often she satisfies their lust. Even Tom Bishop, married and with two kids, begged her to run away with him. Some folks said, well, who could blame the poor sap. But Camille didn't go off with him. So I believe she has a spark of goodness I can kindle. Show me the way to do that, Lord. Amen."

Reverend Trent rose and got into bed. But sleep did not come. The pale moonlight was beguiling. He began to imagine a young woman standing there in its glow, her smooth naked body his for the taking. The room was sultry, the air too heavy. The emptiness of the bed left him ill at ease. It needed a woman to satisfy a man's yearning in the way only she can. The reverend heaved many a sigh as the moon drifted slowly across the night sky.


Several nights later a soaking rain peppered the window panes of Reverend Trent's house. The maples and oaks outside, their branches whipped about by the wind, seemed as much in distress as the man inside. Once again he was on his knees in earnest prayer.

"Lord, I beg forgiveness for what I did today. For taking that girl in my arms and kissing her. And wanting to do a lot more. You saw it all. I know You were there in the church library where it happened. But I'll feel better if I confess, and get it off my chest. You're the only one I can talk to about it."

"Some of the churchwomen, they wonder why a girl like Camille comes to church regular, when she acts the way she does the rest of the week. But I hope it does her some good, and when she volunteers to help out I always say yes. That's why I had her filing away the new books in our library, and dusting the old ones."

"She smiled so pretty when I came in and told her she'd done a good job and could leave. It didn't seem wrong when she came to where I was standing near the door and said, 'My pleasure, reverend.' Even when she put her hands on my shoulders and gave me a little peck on the cheek, I thought it was just the way of a woman."

"But she kissed me again, and then once more, and I didn't want her to stop. She smelled so good, as fresh as a morning breeze, and sweet the way women do. When she pressed her lips to mine, and I could feel her ... her bosom against me, it just took my breath away."

"There's nothing like the taste of a woman's kisses; it sends chills down a man's spine. I don't even remember taking her in my arms, but I did. I squeezed her and, yes, it felt good. There's something in a man, he needs that now and then."

"But she kinda pushed away, smiled at me, and said, 'You kiss really nice, reverend.' Then she gave me another peck on the cheek and was gone. I stood there tingling all over and feeling like a dern fool. I could still taste her lipstick, and smell that rich perfume Camille wears. I lusted after her, and I knew it was wrong. But like I said, Lord, a man sometimes needs the feel of a woman against him."

"The thing is, I know that's not the end of it. Once a woman has kissed a man, she may do it again, and he'll want that too. And it won't stop there. I don't know where this is going. Lord, I want to save that girl; to help You overcome the devil in her. I don't understand why I pray every night to You, and yet I cannot resist her. Do You not hear my prayers, Lord? Have I failed You in some way?"

"I'm asking for strength again tonight. Without You I'm just a man, with no hope. I have a feeling that the time will soon come when I need You more than ever to give me strength. To put words in my mouth that will keep me from breaking my vow to be your good and faithful servant. Amen."

Again the reverend rose and got into bed. Again he heaved a sigh, and spoke into the darkness, his voice a whisper. "Oh, Camille. Camille, Camille ..."


The day of the church picnic was perfect, with gentle breezes wafting through the park that lay on the outskirts of town. Above was a deep blue sky, across which floated a few white clouds. There was horseshoes and baseball and hot dogs and hamburgers and people laughing and children playing. And Camille was there.

It is remarkable how a woman can be innocent and seductive at the same time. Camille played with the little children, chatted with boys and girls her age. But the older men, good Christians all, could not take their eyes off her; could not get her out of their thoughts.

Her sleek tanned legs were bare below white linen shorts that the churchwomen thought too short. Her bra, and Reverend Trent was relieved to see she was wearing one, was faintly outlined under a pale yellow sleeveless blouse that buttoned up the front. The snug blouse left no doubt that here was a young woman with lovely firm breasts.

She was sylph-like, her ebony black hair cut short in lengths, her lithe body moving in a way that caught a man's eye and held it. And when a man saw her deep green eyes, he could not help but imagine how those eyes would look at him in the moonlight or as she lay beneath him in the extremes of passion.

Many a pretty young woman goes through the day never realizing the effect of her beauty on the men around. But Camille knew. She knew well. Adding to her allure was her reputation. Camille was no chaste flower. She had tasted pleasures of the flesh and found them good. As much as her sexuality, it was her aura of being open to a man's suggestion that made her almost irresistible.

Members of the congregation would have been shocked to know that their own pastor, Reverend Trent, watched and desired Camille no less than the other men there. As the warm afternoon passed, he gave thanks that there were other people around. Thanks for any respite from the thoughts that came to mind when he glanced at Camille.

It would not be a picnic without some child getting lost. As the sun neared the western horizon, little Jeremy Atkins wandered away. A search was launched, led by Reverend Trent. Finding himself alone after walking for a few minutes, the man saw a small hay barn at the edge of the park. Just the sort of place a kid would like to explore, he thought. He entered and began to climb a ladder to the loft, calling Jeremy's name as he went.

He had reached the top when faraway voices called out, "We found him! He's safe, everyone!" But Reverend Trent scarcely noticed. He gazed spellbound at the vision before him. Camille was in the hayloft, sitting in the loose hay. She leaned back slightly, supported by her arms. Her bare legs, bent at the knees, were spread open and pointing toward him.

"Hello, reverend," she said in a low voice that was silky smooth and as sweet as honey.

He gazed in awe at the scene, which seemed the essence of every erotic daydream a man may have. Golden light shone through the cracks in the boards and the bay of the loft. Every sunbeam seemed to light up Camille's young body, as if she too were gold. She drew her tongue across full pink lips that waited to be kissed.

The heady aroma of fresh hay filled the man's nostrils. "They've found the little boy," he managed to say. "We'd better go."

"No," murmured Camille. "Soon everyone will leave. No one will miss us. We have this hayloft and each other, reverend. What more do we need?" As she spoke she unbuttoned the blouse and let it fall open. She then unsnapped her bra in the front. With one motion Camille drew both garments back and off her. Now she was nude from the waist up.

The man gave a faint moan at what he saw. Camille's breasts seemed too lovely to be real. Ripe and jutting straight out, the flesh at the apex was formed into a perfect cone of amaranth pink, with faint rosebud nipples at the tips.

"Come to me," said the girl in a throaty voice. "I want you now, reverend. Oh please hold me, love me, don't make me wait!"

There could be no disobeying her, Reverend Trent knew that. Any man would do the same. In two steps he went to her and knelt and took her warm naked body in his arms and kissed her passionately. He pressed his lips to hers, met her tongue eagerly; relished the feel of bare breasts nearly flat against his chest.

He drank deeply of the girl, slaking the thirst that had come to him during all those lonely nights. He then kissed her cheeks, her neck, but soon came back to her warm wet lips.

Camille moaned with pleasure when he moved down to kiss her chest, sighing, "Ah yes, you fought the good fight, reverend, but you're mine now. At last, you are truly mine." She pushed him further down to her waiting breasts.

And Reverend Trent surrendered completely, somehow relieved that he no longer had to worry and struggle and pray. Now he was free. Free to enjoy pleasures beyond imagining; pleasures that every man dreams of in the still of the night.

He buried himself in Camille's bosom, kissing and sucking her nipples, now rubbing his face over the exquisite softness of her breasts. He savored this woman, intoxicated by her sweet musky aroma and the taste of her supple flesh.

The last words she had spoken began to resonate in his mind. They did so, quietly at first, but then more insistently. Perhaps it was those words: At last you are truly mine. Perhaps it was the fragrance of her body that for some reason became a bit cloying, like the scent of an apple that is just slightly overripe.

The man drew back and looked at her. Their eyes met, and the reverend saw for the first time a malevolent force that lay deep within her eyes. A presence that was in no way human. In that single instant of understanding, he went from passionate to cold; as cold as stone; as cold as death. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest.

Camille gave him an alluring look as she unzipped the shorts and slipped them down her legs and off. She spread her legs to offer a hint of what was beneath her thin panties. "Oh, I want you inside me, reverend," she sighed, caressing her breasts. "I'm ready, take me now."

His mouth as dry as sand, he struggled to speak. "This was never just about Camille, was it? Wasn't it really about me as well?"

"Don't talk," Camille murmured. "Hold me, love me." Now the panties were off, and he saw the smooth pink paradise between her legs. It beckoned to some animal instinct in him. He felt the urge to fall upon her, to kiss and to worship that sweet secret part of a woman. But then he looked back into her eyes and trembled with fear.

"You came into Camille's heart," he said in slow measured tones. "But that was not enough. You wanted to come into my heart too. You were using her to get me."

"Please, don't talk nonsense!" the girl replied, her voice now deeper, with a hard edge to it. She spread her legs, saying, "Look, see the pleasure I can give you. Enjoy what every man in town dreams of having! Now it's yours!"

"Yes," said Reverend Trent, still trembling, as he looked again into her green eyes. Again he saw beneath those eyes to where that dark and sinister force lay. "Now you have a part of Camille. But you do not have all of her; you do not have the best part of this girl. And you don't even know it, do you?"

Camille spoke angrily. "What are you talking about, you damn fool! Shut the hell up and make love to me! You've imagined it a hundred times. Now do it! Take me!"

The reverend bent to the girl and dared place a hand on her arm. It felt ice cold and burning hot. "I'm a man, but I know a thing or two about women. And let me tell you what I know," he said, swallowing hard. "During the best times in a woman's life, you are not there. I've watched a woman hold her newborn baby in her arms, and look at it with so much love. You are not in her heart then. You never see that part of a woman's life at all."

Camille blinked in surprise as she looked at him. The luster in her eyes seemed to fade as he spoke again. "And let me tell you something else, about a special woman I knew. A woman whose husband was disheartened after he failed to get the first two pastorships he applied for. He thought himself a failure. But his wife sat down with him and said, 'I believe in you; together we will succeed.'"

"He looked into her eyes and knew she loved him and would always support him. She gave him strength he never knew he had. You don't realize that's a part of being a woman too, do you?"

"Let me tell you about when a man gets up and makes a woman breakfast; coffee, eggs, the works. And brings it to her bed. It's her birthday and he always serves her breakfast in bed on her birthday because he loves her. It's his way of showing it. She wakes up and smiles and says, 'Aren't you sweet.' A man will always treasure that memory. But you are not there to see a smile like that on a woman's face."

"Let me tell you about cold winter nights when a man is lying in bed snuggled up to his sleeping wife and he feels her wide hips and her big soft butt against his body. Somehow that comforts him in a way that nothing else can. He feels her warmth and fragrance and all of a sudden he's just about overcome with love for this woman because she belongs to him and he belongs to her. And he knows she's the best part of his life."

Taking a deep breath, Reverend Trent spoke in a firm voice. "So you see, you really don't have Camille. You may use her body to try to seduce a man, to bring him to ruin. But she is like any other woman: there is a part of her, the truest and sweetest, that you can never have."

"I believe that if we show her love and respect, Camille will be the woman I've described. Yes, she will give some young man the pleasure of her body. But she will do much more. She will lift up his spirits with her words and her smile. She'll warm and comfort him, take care of him when he's sick. Stick by him no matter what. The man will love her for all that, and she'll love him in return. It's the part of our lives that goes beyond anything you will ever know."

"So this time I'm afraid you've lost. You won't use Camille to gain me. And I'm pretty sure you won't have Camille."

The man and the young woman stared at each other in silence. A bitter smile began to spread across her lips. Now came a voice that was deeper than Camille's. "Sexy young girls, those are the easy ones. But ah, to snare a fine upstanding preacher man; a shepherd of his flock. Well, it was worth a try, wouldn't you say?" After a long pause the voice continued. "We shall meet again, reverend. Remember, I am never far away."

His eyes unwavering, Reverend Trent gazed intently at Camille. After a moment her own eyes began to glaze over. She swayed back and forth, and collapsed unconscious onto the hay. He felt her pulse; then, placed her blouse and shorts over her nakedness. Still trembling and breathing hard, he descended the ladder, walked out of the barn, and rested on a nearby park bench.

The man sat there for a while listening to the evening birdsong and watching how the rays of the setting sun bathed the park. Soon he saw Camille emerge from the barn and walk toward him. She sat down beside him on the bench.

"What happened?" she asked, shaking her head. "I waited for you in the barn, and we ... well, we were kissing ..." The girl paused; for the first time ever, Reverend Trent saw a blush on her cheeks.

"And then I must have passed out or something. That was so weird." She eyed the man keenly. "When I woke up all my clothes were off. Did anything happen? I mean, ... you know?"

"No, Camille," he smiled. "Nothing at all happened."

"I guess not," she said wryly. "You're supposed to be a good man and all."

"I try to be." Reverend Trent laid his hand on hers. "But you, Camille; you are a good young woman."

"Me?" she laughed. "Most folks don't think so."

"I think so. I believe in you, Camille. I always will. I'll try to show it by telling everyone that Camille is a fine girl who deserves our friendship and our respect and our love."

She laughed slightly. "Love? Do you love me, Reverend Trent?"

"Yes, Camille, I love you very much."

The girl looked at him quietly for a moment; then, drew her hand back over her hair to smooth it. "Funny. I should be tired from the picnic, but I feel refreshed somehow. And different. Wonder why that is." She looked around, saying, "Looks like the fella I came with has left. Just as well. Could you give me a ride home, reverend?"

"Of course. I'd be honored."

The man and woman got up and began to walk. With a shy smile, Camille reached out her hand and when she did so, Reverend Trent took it. They walked hand in hand to the parking lot.

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