Superfluity of Naughtiness Ch. 03

Please read chapters 1 and 2 to get a sense of the plot. Also, I should explain the title - The phrase "superfluity of naughtiness" is taken from the King James translation of the Bible in James 1:21. The modern English translations render it: "evil that is so prevalent," "evil excess," "rampant wickedness," etc. All of those capture the sense. I hope that these stories embody that description.

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The week after my 'encounter' with the Arthurs was rather routine. As I had hoped, Barry knew nothing, suspected nothing, and didn't even notice that I'd shaved my pussy. He was actually becoming a nuisance to my blossoming sexuality.

One evening, when I was feeling particularly horny, while Barry was doing his "duty" with me, again, on my back. I attempted to wrap my legs around him. He pushed them down, grunted a few times, came, and collapsed beside me. Then I understood why some wives kill their husbands.

Still, despite it all, I was the Proper Pastor's Wife. Just not so much to Millie and Frank. To them I was their secret lover and they were mine. As the weeks turned from Spring into summer, the three of us became increasingly more bold. We even had sex in the coaches' office during a teacher workday.

But on June 14th, a teenaged black girl named Charlene Young was shot by a white police officer as she was walking home from a friend's house. The deep-seeded divide of white and black in that small Georgia town became a boiling chasm of anger that only rose along with the early summer temperatures.

It took years for the facts to make it through the fog of those days. They are simply these: Charlene was walking home from her friends one night, listening to her phone through ear buds. She was wearing her favorite black hoodie and jeans. She took a short-cut through an abandoned field.

Officer Daniel Rivers, a two week rookie, was responding to a suspicious person call. Upon arrival at the house, the resident described the person as "short, dressed in black" and pointed in the direction of Charlene's home, two streets over.

Officer Rivers spotted Charlene walking, stopped his vehicle, and announced his presence, asking her to stop. Charlene, who was not hearing anything but her music, kept on walking. Officer Rivers shined his spot light on her and she turned, holding her cell phone, which officer Rivers mistakenly saw as a weapon. He fired, killing her instantly.

The long-term results of all of that, beside the death of Charlene Young, was a conviction of manslaughter for Officer Rivers. He died within two weeks of his incarceration. I think that's called "prison justice." In the moment, however, things were very much as clear as a Georgia stream after a rainstorm. That is to say, very muddy.

After a few marches and "unlawful gatherings," it became clear that the center of power for the white citizens was our church and the center of power for the black community was Brethren Fellowship A. M. E. and their pastor, Rev. Dr. Antonio Steele. So, the peace of the whole community rested on Barry's ability to conference with Dr. Steele. As in other areas, Barry was ill-equipped.

The very first meeting was held at the offices of the President of Siler's Bank, Mr. Thomas Philbert. Mr. Philbert was also the Chairman of our Deacons. Dr. Steele brought his board chairman as well, a Mr. Roscoe Deane. The whole thing was a colossal failure. Those of us who observed from the wings could tell that Philbert was trying to intimidate and bully. Barry was thrown to the wolves.

Over the next few weeks, other opportunities to conference and meet or even just talk, were met with growing frustration. The Deacons of the church were beginning to grumble against Barry and I could sense that he was about to become a scape-goat. These feelings were corroborated by Frank. But fate stepped in.

One day, my old Toyota Celica needed work done and, since Siler's Farm didn't have a Toyota dealership (or any dealership), the quickest option was a dealership in the nearest town over, Dublin. I arrived early and dutifully sat in the waiting area wearing a pastel sundress, holding a book, and exercising the patience of Job.

After thirty minutes had passed, in walked Rev. Dr. Antonio Steele. He dressed casually: a white open-collar shirt, khaki pleated slacks, brown loafers. Compared to how I'd seen him on the streets of Siler's Farm, he looked calm, composed. Yet there was always a commanding presence around him. I looked up and smiled. He nodded and sat across from me. I'm certain that he did not know who I was.

I had returned to my reading and some time passed when I sensed that his eyes were on me. I glanced up to meet his gaze. He smiled, this time it was warmer, pleasant, inviting. "Good morning," he said. His voice was low and smooth.

I dropped my book to my lap. "Good morning," I smiled back. His eyes never left mine. They were dark brown and penetrating; the kind that could see deep into your soul. I wondered what he saw.

In that moment, two thoughts skipped through my brain. The first was an image from my childhood. I was on Grandpa's horse farm and witnessed, out in a field, a black stallion mounting a white mare. All my grandpa said was, "Ain't that somethin'." The second was the genesis of a plot. Perhaps, I thought, the good Reverend-doctor would respond to negotiations done in a different setting. His eyes were nearly burning my sundress off as it was. Maybe this new sexuality thing could be used for good. Pleasure begets peace.

"I hope you won't think this too forward," he said, "but seeing as we're stuck here most of the day, allow me to introduce myself." He held out his hand. "I'm Tony Steele."

No title and shortened first name, I thought. I can play that game. I grabbed his hand. "Lindsay Hughes," I said, using only my maiden name.

"It is a pleasure Mrs. Hughes," He said, shaking my hand and lingering with it. He obviously saw my wedding band. So, now I needed to discover if he was willing to violate a marriage bed.

"Believe me," I coyly remarked, "the pleasure is all mine."

The thick lips of his mouth formed a grin. "That remains to be seen."

I smiled and withdrew my hand, slowly, my middle finger dragging the inside of his palm. That was a trick Millie taught me as a way to gauge interest. She said it was surefire.

The Reverend's eyes lit up and he sat back, clearing his throat. "My automobile will take several hours. Yours?"

Now we were negotiating time. I'd seen my Grandpa negotiate. I knew the drill. "One can never tell in these establishments. They say 'in and out', but I don't think they mean it."

His eyes bore into mine again. "I would never use that phrase with you, Mrs. Hughes. A woman as beautiful as you should never be reduced to a drive through oil change."

I actually felt a tingle when he said 'beautiful'. "Still," I replied, trying to keep my self-control, "could be an hour, could be four."

"I have someplace we could retire to, if you'd care to join me. Much cleaner and quieter than this."

So, the hook was set. I closed my book. "I can instruct the desk to call me when my car is ready. I would like a change of scenery." I smiled and rose and walked slowly out of the waiting area and over to the service window where I instructed them to call me. When I returned, he was standing by the exit. "Right this way, Mrs. Hughes. I'll have an associate drive us."

Some had described Rev. Dr. Antonio Steele as a pompous ass. I found him to be two shades shy of arrogant. He was a very self-assured man. But, he was a man. He did flaunt his 'blessings' too much for my taste. But there were, and are, those who see that as a good thing.

The drive was relatively brief and we arrived at the rear entrance of the The Cotton Arms Hotel, Dublin's oldest and finest hotel. He opened the door for me and I made sure that my legs extended out from my dress as I slid out.

We walked in and immediately to the elevators. No checking in. No pleasantries with the help. The elevator stopped at the top floor and opened into a hallway with only two doors. I followed him to the door on the left, which he deftly unlocked and stood to the side, allowing me to step in.

It was an expansive, and very impressive, suite. The main room spanned from the door to the floor-to-ceiling glass which allowed a beautiful view of the Dublin skyline. Since the Cotton Arms was the highest building in the town, you could also see beyond, into the countryside and farms that marked south-central Georgia.

Off the the left was an office. On the right was the bedroom and bath. The whole room seemed to dwarf our house. It was elegant and clean and secluded. I walked to the windows and took in the scene. "It's so beautiful."

"The scenery has been markedly improved, Mrs. Hughes," he said in that smooth baritone. "Can I get you a drink?"

"A ginger ale, please?" I responded. "And, you may call me Lindsay, if you like."

"Nothing stronger, Lindsay?" My name on his lips made me shiver.

"Mr. Steele," I chided him, "it's only 9:30 in the morning."

"Please, call my Tony. I only thought that you might want something to calm your nerves."

I turned and smiled at him as he walked over with my drink. "Do I seem nervous to you, Tony?"

As he handed me the glass, our fingers touched and I felt a spark - not the static electricity kind. "No," he admitted. "I admire a woman who knows what she wants."

"And, pray tell, what is it that I want?"

He took a long sip from his glass, then placed it on a table nearby. He walked right up to me with my back against the glass and drew his finger down my arm to my hand, which he then took in his. Our eyes locked as he moved my hand to his crotch. He was bigger than Frank.

"Am I right, Lindsay?" he growled.

Although things escalated quickly, I was still in control. And, despite my body screaming to be fucked, I needed to remain so. I simply turned my back to him even as I gently kneaded his cock through those pleated pants. He took the cue, and slowly unzipped my dress.

Millie had taught me. along with other things, that one of the secrets to being sexy was dressing sexy, if only for one's self. I was wearing a bra and panty set that I'd bought online (and shipped to Millie). The lavender colored fabric was sheer and delicate.

I felt his fingers pull the zipper down. He took his time and each inch lower brought a bit more doubt into my mind. Was this the right thing to do? I felt the cool air of the room on my back, then his warm, firm hands around my waist.

He slid them up, his fingers just missing the curve of my breasts, up to my shoulders where he slid each shoulder strap over and down. The dress slid off to a heap at my feet. In the refection of the glass, I saw him looking over my back and I felt his hands roaming. My skin tingled at his touch.

"Such beautiful skin," he remarked. "Like..." He voice stopped as he unclasped my bra and slid it off. His hands reached around me and cupped my breasts. I could feel his erection pressing against the small of my back. "Twins of a gazelle that graze among the lilies."

I said nothing. The quote from Song of Songs only intensified our connection, though he knew nothing about me, it told me everything about him.

I turned in his hands and moved my hands to his belt. Our eyes locked as I worked it loose, then opened his trousers. They slipped down. He was wearing striped boxers but his erection was tenting them mightily. I ran my fingers over it again and it jerked. It was truly massive. The difference between Barry and Frank was like the difference between Frank and Tony. I wondered if I could even take him.

He must have sensed my apprehension. "Are you scared, Lindsay?"

I looked into his eyes and searched them. I saw only love and desire, no brutality. "You're big, bigger than any I've had." I tried to sound experienced, even though "any" equaled two.

"Take it out."

It was a command, offered as a suggestion, which I took to heart. I pulled his boxers out and down and stared, stunned at what popped out. He was fully erect. The dark shaft was veiny. The head, so perfectly helmeting the shaft, was a lighter brown. His sack hung full.

I felt his hands on my shoulders, pressing, urging me to my knees. As I descended, I saw that his length was easily the same as my wrist to my elbow. His scent was musky and earthy. And now, it was right in my face. I tried to remember everything Millie had taught me about sucking cock. Frank was our very obliging test subject and he said I did great. This was the real test.

I tried to wrap one hand around the base of it. My fingers barely reached. He was so hot to the touch. Then I extended my tongue and drew it down his length. He tasted like salted meat. On the way back up, I focused on the veins that pulsed along it. I heard him moan.

My tongue soon began flicking underneath the head, then swirled around it. I tasted his pre-cum - also salty, yet sweet. "Fuck," he groaned and I responded by opening my mouth as wide as I could and pulling his head in, sealing it with my lips, and sucking hard. "Yesss," he moaned.

It wasn't long before my jaw began to ache and I had to pull back, gasping. "I can see that you're struggling, my dear." He lifted me to my feet. I was blushing with embarrassment. I knew that the entire enterprise hinged on my abilities to satisfy Tony. He continued, "You are such a beautiful woman, Lindsay Hughes. It would be a shame to waste this time." He gripped my hand and led me to the bedroom. He motioned to the bed. "Lie down on your side. You might find giving easier if you were receiving, as well."

As he spoke, he disrobed. His naked body was lean and muscular. The dark skin gleamed in the filtered sunlight from the window. He climbed onto the bed next to me and slowly pulled my panties down my thighs, calves, and off. For the third time, my sex was exposed to the sight of another, not my husband. I was not ashamed.

He positioned himself on his side, his head at my pussy, his cock at my mouth. "Take your time, my dear. There's no rush. Let your body guide you." With that, I felt him lift my top leg up and the heat of his breath on my sex. My hand gripped his cock and my tongue began to lick and swirl.

The next fifteen minutes can only be described as an oral delight. It's not fair to compare him to Millie because, to be quite honest, women just do it better. That being said, Tony was far better than Frank, even with Millie's coaching.

He alternated between light flicks and heavy laps, keeping me in a constant state of desire for more. He was fast, he was slow, he paused. All the while, I worked on making love to his cock, which is how Millie explained it to me.

Eventually, I was able to hold him in my mouth without the ache, even though he filled it completely. My sucking elicited moans and groans that urged me on. My own moans vibrated through him.

I felt my orgasm rising. He did as well, for his motions became focused on my clit; his flicks increased in frequency and tempo. I had to pull off of his cock as it crested. My body trembled as my orgasm flowed through me. His flicks and sucks turned to soft laps and kisses.

"How did that feel?" his soft baritone voice asked.

"Amazing," I moaned, still shivering. My hand continued to stoke him. I wanted him to mount me, to take me right there. But he had other plans.

He moved away from me and stood at the edge of the bed. Then he pulled me over with my head over the edge. "Let's see if you can take me deeper like this," his voice had a slight growl to it. He pressed the still slick head to my lips and I opened to receive him. "Relax your throat, practice swallowing, don't fight it." I listened and tried to pay attention.

As soon as I felt him touch the back of my throat, I gagged and he pulled back a inch, then he tried again; same result. He must have tried ten times before I was able to control the reflex. I felt him slip past and down my throat. He slowly pulled back. "Good girl," he praised me. His hands pawed my breasts, tweaking the tender nipples. "Let's go again."

He did and I was able to hang on as he held himself in my throat. His balls rested on my nose. Then, he started to fuck my face. Slow strokes at first, but he soon turned aggressive. Spit mixed with pre-cum dripped down my face and into my nose.

He eventually pulled out and I gasped for air. "That was..." But he didn't let me finish.

He grabbed my hair and pulled my up and over, on the bed, on my belly. "All fours, bitch," he growled. The well-mannered Pastor had become an animal. I assumed the position. One that I had used with Frank and gave me much pleasure. I felt his hand come down hard on one butt-cheek. I bit my lip and felt him shift behind me.

Then his hands grabbed my hips. His cock poised at my entrance. I felt my pussy twitch in anticipation. "Tell me what you want, now, Mrs. Hughes," he said as his cock teased my opening.

"Fuck me," was all I said. He did. In one fast and fluid motion, he sunk that cock deep into me, spreading me like no other, filling every inch of my cunt. "YESSssssss," I moaned. He responded with another swat on my ass.

The next ten minutes was sheer bliss as he relentlessly fucked me. He got deep enough that I felt his balls against my pussy lips. I buried my head in the bed covers and only briefly considered how many other women had been in this position, in this place.

The time passed quickly and I felt his rhythm change from long strokes to short jabs. He was about to climax. The game I was playing was all in, I knew that. I was in no position to call the shot. That was up to him.

As I was close, too, I reached under and rubbed my clit, desperate for another O. I was closer than him and my O tumbled through me. As it did, I clenched his cock and he moaned. "On your back," he commanded me as he pulled out.

I flipped over and saw his throbbing black cock, wet with my nectar. He straddled my belly and stroked. "Beg for it, bitch."

"I want all of your cum, baby. Shower me with it, feed it to me. Dump that cum all over my face." All phrases that Millie had taught me. She said men loved The Slut. I must have played it well because just two strokes after, he unloaded seven thick ropes of cum all over my face and hair and breasts.

When he was done, he just said, "Suck me dry."

I did, of course. When that was done, we lay next to each other and I wondered what my next step might be. He beat me to it.

"So, Lindsay Hughes...Grant."

I looked over at him. "Rev. Dr. Antonio Steele."

"Now that we HAVE been properly introduced. What was all this about?"

"It was, and is, about peace in our community, Tony." I sat up against the headboard.

He joined me. "Fucking me brings peace?"

"No," I said. "Fucking you was amazing. But that's not what will bring peace."

"What then?" he asked as he drew a finger down my bare arm.

"Neither you nor I can bring back Charlene Young, nor can we shield Daniel Rivers from his fate. But we can do something to stop the hatred and mistrust."

"Planning on assassinating Philbert?" he scoffed.

"One better," I said. He looked at me in astonishment. "I will deliver Philbert to you. I will root him out and sell him out to you. But..."

"There's always a catch, isn't there."

"This is a negotiation, Tony. I can leave and we can forget all this. Or, you can play this hand and bring peace to the town."

His eyes searched mine. "What's the catch?"

"Call off your mobs. Give us all some breathing space. Bide your time. I will get Philbert, I promise."

"Alright," he mused. "But I want something else in return."

"What's that?"

"You," he stated flatly.

"I'm married Tony, I can't..."

"But you did. You just fucked a strange man in a hotel. Rev. Grant won't like that. Does he know his wife is a whore?"