Thank God - A Mormon Sex Story

This story is fiction. Constructive criticism welcome as this is a first time submission by the author.

*****

He had always been a pious man. A man of God. He read his scriptures day in and day out. He arrived to work in well pressed suits that his wife Chelsea ironed each morning. He spoke of Chelsea often, and their bouncing baby boy Bradley. Dave had, by every account, the perfect life.

But something bothered him. No matter how often he tried to keep his thoughts pure and ask God for grace day in and day out, his mind often drifted to his coworker Jessica. He often wondered why. Perhaps it was the way her voice, like lavender, like silk, swirled in his head long after she had spoken. Perhaps it was the way her pant suits hugged her hips in the most perfect way, and perfect butt bouncing as she walked. Perhaps it was the openness to which she spoke of her dating life.

Dave didn't like to hear about those things, but her weekend stories of one night stands and evening drinks with strangers often wandered to his cubicle as she chatted with her friend Kathy in the break room.

Perhaps it was the way she looked at him, like she knew something he didn't. As he anticipated Jessica's presentation in the office later that afternoon, he thought about how she might glance his way as she clasped the microphone in her dainty fists. How her blouse might dip a bit low if she needed to bend down over the lectern...

"Are you actually going to come?"

Dave stood frozen like a deer in headlights as Jessica appeared, as if summoned by his budding lust, caught in his shame and unfaithfulness. "Pardon me?"

"The presentation this afternoon? Are you coming? You had to go to your son's doctors appointment last week..."

"Oh right; yeah he had a little cough. I'm planning to-to be there. We'll have to think about how we want to make the budget spreadsheet, I don't know if you'd thought of that yet..."

"Oh, I've thought about it." She said, with one eyebrow raised, as if he had said something other than a suggestion for keeping the budget organized. "I'll send you a calendar invite for after so we can go through the columns and tabs and decide on the best format with all of the data we need to track. Ok I've gotta run, see you later." Her tight skirt wrinkled under each butt cheek, left-right-left-right, as she walked away.

Dave wondered if she knew. He believed himself to be depraved and disgusting for thinking about her that way. He had a wife and a child. He tried to focus on the peanut butter and jam sandwich that awaited him in the fridge.

After lunch, returning to his seat, Dave checked his email. A calendar invite popped up: "9:15pm - Jessica Mansfield: does this time work for you?" It was later than he typically stayed, but a brief glance at their calendars showed it was the only time available before their deadline. His wife didn't like when he worked long hours. Reluctantly, he clicked "accept."

At 3:15 he headed to the afternoon presentation. Jessica, as intelligently as ever, went through each slide in detail, cracking a few jokes here and there but really hammering down the important points. Dave looked at her in awe, then down at his shoes. He always froze up when he had to give speeches at Church events. He wished he could speak like she did.

The hours rolled by and Dave was stressed about the new budgeting guidelines that management was insisting on. He had hardly noticed how quiet and dark the office had become when he received an email reminder of his meeting with Jessica on the 7th floor. As he rounded the corner, he suddenly dropped all the files in his hands as he saw her.

Gone was the pencil skirt. Gone, the reports from that afternoon's presentation. Jessica stood stark naked in nothing but a pair of maroon heels at the small conference table, ass cheeks pressed on the glass table as she bit down on a pen, smiling. Was this real? Had he drifted off to sleep late again?

The wetness in his neatly pressed pants suggested otherwise.

"Hello Dave."

"Whoa, oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I- I didn't realize you would- I -"

"It's ok. I just wanted to be ready for you."

"For--f-what? I- I'm..."

Jessica raced to lock the door of the conference room before he could reach the handle to leave.

"I've seen the way you look at me Dave. When you think I don't notice..."

He stared at her, face red with embarrassment and disbelief. Had he been that obvious? Had this been her plan all along-to corner him and catch him in his lust?

"I-I'm flattered; but, I'm married, and, you're a beautiful woman but I-I-"

Before he could articulate another word, he felt something warm in a rather intimate place. He looked down to see that one dainty hand was now clasped around his penis. He looked down to see those amazingly deep brown eyes return his gaze as she rubbed deeper, massaging him in the most pleasant fashion, warm tingles rippling within him as he snugly fit in her palm.

He remained frozen, pants wet, unsure of what to do or say. All he knew was that this was wrong-he thought of Christ, of his son, of Chelsea-

"My wife- she'll never-forgive-" he stammered as he felt more blood rushing all through his body, thoughts swirling through his head...wanting desperately now to be single, to be alone with Jessica in this moment for all eternity...

"She'll never know. And besides, it was me that sinned, not you. It's clear how much you're fighting me. She'll understand you tried your best to resist my advances. This isn't your sin, it's my crime." That's true, he reasoned-I can't be held accountable if I never asked for it, right? Even if I want it now...right? Want it more than anything in the world...

Before he had time to wrestle any demons or pray to any God, he heard the sharp snap of his zipper and the clanking of his metal belt buckle as he felt his pants get pulled down briskly to his knees. He felt her warm skin graze his thighs as she hungrily tore the sacred white garment from his loins. His throbbing erection was inches from her perfect, glowing face.

"Now, look what we have here," she said with that eyebrow famously raised, as her eyes feasted upon the smooth hard penis in her hands. She used the base of his penis to slightly slap her own bright red lips ever so gently.

"Jessica--Jessica I-"

His time was up, for in one fell swoop she lowered his pulsing member into her lips. She sucked his tip eagerly with the same focus and passion as her presentation from that afternoon, her eyes never leaving his. He started to shiver as her fingers gingerly clenched onto his upper legs and buttocks for support as she licked and sucked, one lick after the other, using her hands to shove his entire package into her open damp mouth, her head bobbing up and down, backwards and forward. "Uhhhhmmm," she moaned emphatically, mouth full, her eyes closed in apparent bliss, as his hard wet cock slipped and slid on her tongue that all too eagerly explored his shaft, under, over, in between spaces his wife Chelsea had never wandered.

It was heaven.

Her hands slid up and down. Her tongue and lips moving every which way. He felt overwhelmed, a sudden rush of feeling coming on, out of control--

She must have sensed his incoming helplessness to the feelings, as she quickly jumped up to lean over the glass conference table, that perfect ass jutted out, her legs spread wide, her eyes large and beautiful as if to say "what's wrong, baby?"

She had him trapped and they both knew it.

Her sexiness and her confidence suddenly enraged him. He hated her for exposing his weakness, and wanted her deeply at the same time. Grabbing her, furious and aroused, he started to shout:

"Who do you think you are, huh?" He grunted as he squeezed her left cheek, hard, opening her up to his pulsing cock. "You think you can just make me do whatever you want? That's what you think? What about what I want, huh?"

"What DO you want Dave...why don't you tell me...show me..."

Barely registering his sudden determination , he shoved his cock in her wet, slippery pussy-hard-first the tip and then the entirety of his penis with every ounce of strength he had left. Every pulse was a statement. Every thrust a defense of his very existence. He would show her. He would show her he was his own man. That his life meant something.

"You-don't-get--to..." Thrust. Spank. Shove.

"fuck with--my--family--" In. Wet. Out. Good god she felt so hot.

Her head tilted back in ecstasy and he grabbed her hair at the top of her head, squeezing it angrily. He felt her vaginal walls clenching in on him, felt her juices overflowing onto his...the smell of her womanhood encompassing them both...

"You dirty--" He could barely breathe.

"Fucking--" he panted desperately...

"Slut...!"

It was too much to bear for them both. Pushing, throbbing, pulsing, he felt his whole being contract and tremble as he expunged the entirety of his load for what felt like minutes. A small dark pool had formed on the carpet beneath them.

"I'll be sure to get those reports to you by tomorrow," Jared the intern trailed off as the door slammed behind him. Dave blinked, bewildered, as he felt his contacts bubble and slowly focused on the numbers "10:56pm." It had been another late night and he had dozed off again. He heard a ring from a phone in a distant cubicle. Chelsea was going to kill him for not texting that he'd be home late tonight. Thankful to be the last in the office, he hurried off to the men's room to grab some tissues-for there was a newly formed wet stain on his groin that he was grateful no one had noticed during his accidental snooze. Glancing over at Jessica's empty cubicle, his eyes lingered before he headed toward the door and left for the night. Tomorrow would be a long day. Thank God it's almost Friday.