Preacher Man

He smiled and held up a water bottle. "I'd better pay attention then, so I can figure out the trail."

I nodded. "The path of the righteous man."

He chuckled. "Your words, Shannon, not mine." He seemed skittish, like he couldn't decide whether he really wanted to be here, but I had all morning to get him comfortable. I can usually do that with men.

"Come on," I suggested, striding off toward the misty trailhead. "Time's a-wastin'." The main paths in City Forest were all nice and wide, and the DPW came in once a year and mulched them. "Some stretches in here have the trees signposted. Birdwatching benches, you know. Shit like that." I glanced sideways, Mike's shoes crunching on pine needles. "Sorry."

"About what?"

"Cussing."

He laughed. "Truckers swear, Shannon."

"Oh, you shitdicked cockmunching motherfucker. You're right." I joined him in his laughter. "Do it. I dare you."

"Dare me to do what?" He was looking straight at me, and I straightened up my back so that his eyes behind the shades could enjoy my tits. I'd worn a far less constricting bra today, in his honor. "Cuss?"

"Yeah!" I reached out and squeezed his arm, already clammy with sweat. Fucking humidity. I could feel it in my armpits. "Come on. Let loose. I won't tell. I'm good at keeping secrets."

"I bet you are," he sighed, shaking his head. "If I do it, will it shut you up?"

"Of course not," I purred, pleased he was flirting back. "But it'll make me feel like I'm making progress."

"Progress?" He arched an eyebrow. "Toward what?"

"Getting to know you," I sang in full King and I trill, "getting to know all about you."

He grinned now. "You're very funny. Your students must love you."

I thought of Dylan, who most definitely loved certain parts of me. A whole lot. Maria, too... "The stories I could tell, Preacher Man. And you wouldn't believe any of them."

He paused, then took an exaggerated look up and back along the path, the fog now starting to lift, before he leaned toward me. "Damn straight," he said quietly.

I nodded, pleased. "Not bad. You're pulling your punches, though." I squeezed his arm. "Still. Baby steps. I'll set my goals low. Like, the f-word by our next hike."

"Next hike?"

"Yes," I told him firmly. "There'll be a next hike. And I'll get an f-bomb out of that mouth." I ran my finger teasingly over my tits. "Cross my heart and hope to die. And then the next hike, where I'll get you to say 'shit.' Then the one after that, where I'll get you to call me a 'bitch.'" I was gauging him, trying to figure out whether I was going too far. "We can negotiate from there."

He glanced at me again. "I don't think I'll ever call you a bitch," he said quietly.

I clapped my hands. "Good boy!" The sun was burning up the fog, and I slipped my Wayfarers on. "What if I want you to?"

He sighed and I could imagine his eye roll. "The path of righteousness, Shannon. That's where we're going, right?"

"Hell no," I volleyed right back. "The other path is a lot more fun." I licked my lips, then prodded some more. "Just you wait. Another month of hiking with me, there's no telling what I'll get you to do, Preacher Man."

He waited to answer, and when he did he still sounded like a kid who can't quite believe what he's heard. "I'm happy to help you set such lofty goals."

I laughed loudly and gestured him down a different trail, one which led to a little lake in the woods. "Oh, there's nothing lofty about them, Mike," I teased. "I mean, I already got you to say the b-word. Who knows? By the end of the summer I'll have you doing vodka shots."

"Child's play," he scoffed. "Even priests are allowed to drink; trust me. Deacons drink plenty." I knew that. I'd done some research, but the internet was still cagey about whether a deacon could fuck. Married ones could, apparently, but not singles. I still hadn't asked whether he'd ever been married, though I thought not. I smiled.

"Fine," I shrugged. "I'll aim loftier. I'll have you snorting cocaine. Off some girl's ass, maybe."

He said nothing for a few long seconds. "I drove trucks for a long, long time, Shannon," he said at last, and I stopped short. He continued on a few steps further, and when he finally swung around he saw me standing in the middle of the trail with my hands on my hips and my mouth wide.

"Why, Pastor Mike," I chided, shaking my head slowly as the mist cleared out, "listen to you." I sighed, waiting until he gave a sheepish smile in response, and then when I started walking again I put a little extra schwerve in my hips. "Maybe you're right," I said as I drew even with him, the two of us heading off for the lake. "Maybe I will have to aim loftier."

He glanced at me again from the side, then made a show of studying the trees. "Lead us not into temptation."

"Yeah, I know that one too," I cooed back. "You can lead a priest into temptation, but you can't make him drink." I grinned at him. "Deacon too, as far as I know."

"As far as I know, too," he admitted. "Nobody's tried."

I giggled. "Even when you were driving a truck?"

He snorted. "I wasn't a priest then." We passed a little farther in silence, the birds coming alive all around us, my whole body already gummed with sweat. I pictured his, too, the summer heat, the sheen of his skin, the rich smell of his balls... "Although," he continued carefully, "of all the time in my crazy misspent youth, I can't say I remember snorting coke off a woman's butt."

"Ass," I corrected immediately. "I said ass, and I'll bet it's just because you didn't find the right woman." I nudged him, thinking of my friend Gina. "Trust me. I know someone who'd do that without any convincing at all. Dead serious."

"Well," he sighed, "I guess I'll know who to talk to if I'm ever in the market." The sun glittered off the little lake down below us now, mist still rising heavily in the moist air. "Look at that! That's a view, right there."

"Sure is," I agreed. This was one of my favorite spots, mostly because almost nobody ever came here. "The road goes to a parking spot over on the far side, so nobody ever bothers walking here. It's called Elliott Pond." I took my hat off and wiped my forehead with my arm. "They say some of the early settlements were around here. I keep meaning to bring my kids here and have them try to find the cellar holes."

He was hanging back, no doubt looking at my ass. "You must be a great teacher, Shannon."

"I suck," I winked with a self-deprecating grin, and then I thought of Dylan and decided it wasn't a lie.

* * *

Three weeks since I'd seen Leon. Three weeks, and I was still cringing like a girl who's just laughed at a kid falling off a curb, only to be told he's blind or something.

I did that once, so I know what I'm talking about.

I mean, of course things were going to end with him. Of course they were. Like five years we'd been dating. For three years we'd been living together, sharing everything except an engagement ring, while my mom had gotten more and more impatient for grandkids. And I'd always known that they weren't going to come from Leon's balls, that was for sure. But still.

He'd deserved better from me.

He'd caught me in May, the day after it became official that our students were officially graduates in this weird, anticlimactic year. There'd been a parade, the seniors rolling slowly through town with streamers and airhorns on the vague promise of some sort of graduation ceremony in July, and I'd sat on my deck chair a careful six feet from my buddy Gina, all masked and shit, the two of us with mimosas. She'd leaned over to talk to me in between waving seniors.

"So, did Dylan call you?" I frowned; this was a complicated subject between us. "I know he must have," she pressed.

"Yes..." I pushed my sunglasses back up my sweaty nose. He had, just yesterday, and a glance at my watch reminded me he was due about three hours from now. "Why?"

Gina grinned her slow, crafty grin, the one I'd seen a couple times wrapped around Dylan's ballsack while I rode his face. I wondered whether she knew just how regularly I'd been fucking him; over a year now since I'd first had him. He'd graduated last year. She sipped at her glass. "I mean, it's been awhile since I did him, but he'd asked me a bit ago about another threesome."

Fuck! "Nope." I forced a grin. "It's just him and me these days, bitch. No offense, of course." And I meant that, too; he'd usually performed best for me when she was there. But why was she asking me about this now, of all days?

Because, see, I was going to have a threesome with Dylan today. Dylan, and his little newly-graduated eighteen-year-old fuckbunny, Maria. He'd teased me about how much better she sucked dick than me, knowing just how to press my buttons before I'd snapped, "Well, shit. Why don't you bring the little whore over and I'll show her how to fuck!"

"Sure," he'd shrugged, loose-limbed and stringy in my bed with his cock lying spent across his thigh, all glossy with my pussy juice. He'd yawned, his lazy grin lighting up his face, and then he'd seized my hair and pushed my face into his balls.

And now his little slut girlfriend had just gone past the top of my street in a cracked old silver Lumina, her pinch-faced mom in the backseat while her dad drove... no. I squinted at the guy. "What's that, her brother?"

"Hmm?" Gina had been texting, probably staying in touch with one of her many penises.

I waved vaguely at the slowly passing cars. "Maria?" I didn't know her last name; I'd never had her. She'd had Mr Taylor for sophomore history instead of me, and she wasn't the type to take my World Religions elective. "Who's driving her? That can't be her dad; he looks, oh, twelve?"

Gina squinted over, then shrugged. "Oh. Sure. Raoul." She smiled a little greedily. "Graduated six years ago? Seven?" She drained her mimosa. "Monster cock."

"You'd know," I sighed. She laughed.

"Relax, girlfriend." She rattled the ice in her empty glass. "I didn't fuck him. But he played football. You know, the pants."

"Sure," I said wistfully, "the pants." I was gazing thoughtfully at the retreating Lumina with Maria's beaming face in profile, and it was a little less than three hours later that that same car pulled up into my driveway with the same beaming girl. And her boyfriend.

I was in the living room. It was a gorgeous day and the back deck would have been perfect. Leon was out at sea for... fuck, a week? Two? Who cared; he wasn't here, and I was, and my young lover was coming up my front stairs with a bitch he wanted to use as an audience while he drilled me.

I wasn't sure how I felt about that, honestly. I'd let him take me every which way, pretty much, and it was always good; I didn't feel like I needed to add another woman. But I'd seen how having Gina there those couple of times had changed him, added some swagger to that gangly cock of his, lent him some strength in his skinny hips as he dicked me down.

Just thinking about it, there on my sofa as that fucking Lumina pulled up, made my panties wet.

So. Why not?

Dylan didn't bother knocking anymore. He'd stopped doing that about eight months ago, around the time school had started. Around the same time I'd told him not to bother parking a block away; he wasn't a student anymore, and I realized I didn't really care if everyone knew we were fucking. It's not like too many other students ever got out here to the boonies by the marsh, anyway. But Maria was another story. I was sitting there in the early-evening darkness in my silk robe over a pair of panties when they came in, him tall and her short. I took charge right away.

My house, my rules.

"Dylan, go on out and move her car," I told him crisply. "You park there, I park there. But she's not you, and she's not me." I looked the girl up and down. "We'll wait here for you."

He shrugged, lazy as he always was when he wasn't balls-deep in a pussy. "Whatever." Dylan swung around, sauntering out of my house with that loose look to him, the one that made me wonder what I saw in him. The one I didn't think much about, for precisely that reason. As soon as the screen door closed against the thickening early-summer air, I stared calmly at Maria until she looked back at me. Her eyes, I noted, were a vivid hazel.

She was sexy enough, in that effortless way girls have just as they've become women. Short, very curvy, long black hair. Her face was beautiful, with smooth olive skin that would never again be so taut, so perfect, even with the reddish line left by her fucking Covid mask. She was the sexiest she'd ever be, I knew; eventually she'd go the way of that pinch-faced woman in the backseat that afternoon.

But not today. Today, she was a flushed hottie who knew she was going to get laid. She was nervous being in a teacher's house, but that was for the best; I didn't need her getting any ideas. I was getting enough for both of us, my panties growing steadily damper. I cleared my throat. "I never had you in class. You know who I am though, right?"

She had a deep voice, or maybe she was just turned on. Or shy. Or both. "Yes, Ms Boyle."

"Good." I smiled. Ideas were trooping through my head now, dark ones, nasty ones. "You know your boyfriend? Dylan? He used to call me that." She was silent at that, her head just beginning a quizzical tilt as I continued. "Now, he calls me Shannon sometimes. Other times? Slut. He calls me hoe. Bitch. Fuckhole. Cocksucker." I was getting into this now, the girl looking wary; her nerves were turning me on. "Your boyfriend calls me whore. He calls me that when he takes his dick and sticks it in my pussy." I waited to see if she'd do anything, my fingers finding their way over the front of my underwear.

They came away glossy, her eyes pinned to my legs spreading over the edge of the sofa. I wondered whether she'd had the first clue why she'd been brought here, what Dylan had told her. "You know your boyfriend fucks me in the ass, right?"

She cleared her throat, plainly starting to get weirded out. "Uh, Mrs Boyle, look, I mean..."

"Shut the fuck up," I told her flatly. Goddamn, I was fucking horny. When Dylan had walked in, I felt like I was going to rape him. "Just nod or shake your head, or whatever. If you want to leave, leave; I could give two shits." I hunched forward, all tied up in lust, not really caring anymore who she was or why she was here or whatever. Thank god Dylan had made me tell him to bring her. "You're here because your boyfriend wants you to have a fucking awesome night for your graduation. You fuck him, right?"

She hesitated, glancing around to see if Dylan was coming, then nodded distantly.

"Right," I sneered, my fingers slipping past the soft skin of my belly, into my waistband, the coarse hair there just starting to come back in; Leon had only been gone less than a week. I really only shaved for him. My fingers shupped into my slit with no resistance, my pussy warm and wet and welcoming. I wondered what Maria would do if I ordered her to eat me out. I felt my whole body shudder, just as eager now to have Dylan back as she was. When I spoke, I had to squeeze the words out past a thick throat. "So. How's it feel that your boyfriend's idea of a special graduation night for you is bringing you over to a teacher's house so I can fuck him?" I giggled, and just as she was about to find some words Dylan's flipflopped feet clumped up my steps. "Ah. Good. We'll find out how that feels in a sec, I think," I gloated.

"Hey." His voice came out in its usual lugubrious surfer monosyllables as he pushed through the screen door. "Started early, huh?" I gazed up at him through slitted eyes as he came up beside Maria, his grin sharp and feral among his scraggly facial hair. He leaned down, his voice low in her ear. "See? Told you. She's totally into this."

Maria's face took on a weird pensive look, and then she hesitated and asked him something in Spanish. I watched, two fingers now deep inside my pussy, both of them tracing contours I knew better than any other part of myself. I'd always spent a lot of time with my hand up my snatch. My forefinger brushed along the ridged part in the front, just behind my clit, and I shivered again.

"No," he told her, smiling, replying in the same language, and then Maria was showing a forced smile and I heard the sharp snap of his hand on the denim cutoffs over her butt. "I'm telling you. See, babe?" He said something else in Spanish, and her little fine-fingered hand reached across to clamp onto the front of his basketball shorts. I could see in her fist just how hard he already was. Perfect. This was why I still fucked Dylan Rotolo: he had the most reliable cock I'd ever seen. "For real, huh?" He came to me then, leaving his uncertain girlfriend with a kiss on the cheek, knowing what I wanted him to do.

He stood over me where I lay splayed on my couch, his dick masting the front of his shorts, smiling his cockiest smile as he looked down at me. "Horny bitch," he marveled, and then he was getting down to his knees as his girlfriend watched wide-eyed, sweeping his loose t-shirt off with his usual easy confidence; he knew how creamy I'd be, and he didn't like his clothes smelling like me. He stared at me hard-eyed, considering, then with one swipe of his spiderlike fingers he gripped hard at my lacy red panties and hauled them straight down my legs.

I kicked hard, my ankle getting all twisted up in my panties as I tried to get rid of them, but by that time he was leaning in with those strong fingers on my thighs, his hot breath sweeping along my wet slit, and I forgot about getting my panties past that final ankle and just humped my crotch straight up toward his descending face.

I'd never have guessed how hot it was to get a guy to stick his tongue into my pussy while I stared into the twinkling dark eyes of his own girlfriend, standing off to the side watching. Jesus; I was already on the edge of cumming even before his lips found my flesh, so I clawed my hands into the back of his hair and pulled his whole head straight up to my hole, willing him to take me there.

And, bless him, he did; I was a good teacher in any number of ways, and Dylan had proven an excellent learner when it came to munching cunt. He ran his hands impatiently along my long thighs once, twice, and then he was sending them searing around my hips, back to my ass, the fingers prying into my crack and gripping me to his face just as hard as I was gripping his face to me, his nose and lips moving ceaselessly against my cunt like the rollers of a car wash, tireless, persistent. I gave a cracked moan.

Fuck. It was happening already. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I moaned at his girlfriend. "Does he ever eat your pussy?" I managed, and she did that usual thing she did, the hesitation then the glance outside and then, at last, the shy nod. "Yeah. He learned from me." Dylan retaliated, his teeth biting hard on my clit, and the fireworks started to crackle at the edge of my vision. "So. You're welcome, Maria," I cackled, and that's when he rose higher, his lips busy on my clit as his two fingers found their confident way into my snatch, and I gripped hard at the curls on top of his head as he gave me my orgasm.

The crackles alongside my eyes became lightning, then pink flame, then I was seeing nothing at all as my whole body caught fire. Goddamn, but he was sucking the orgasm straight out of my body, and the incredulous eyes of his girl were the last thing I saw as I surrendered, my hips swinging hard and high against him, both of us sunk deep in lust; I was swelling, bursting, my whole body out of control. I felt my heels digging furrows in my carpet.

"Fuck!" I yelled it, my body a live wire, and when I opened my gummed eyes at last I saw his own fixed on my face, intent, flushed with triumph because he'd made me cum, and then he was straightening and I knew what was next.