The Meek Shall Pt. 01

"Oh my, oh yes, of yes," Carol's voice was unmistakable. So was the loud kissing. "Unzip me. Expose my humble glory to God's purpose."

More rustling and scuffling followed

"Praise God, what lovely breasts," Pecker said. "They are a glorious offering to the Lord."

"Mmm", Carol sighed, "don't stop."

There was a muffled thud as I assumed Pecker finally threw his heavy jacket aside. The clank of a belt buckle followed, and then another thud and a kicking sound.

"I love your enormous gift," Carol said. I could imagine her hand wrapped around the Pecos pecker. She was always a noisy cocksucker, and I knew the sound. I discovered later that his prick wasn't that big.

"Praise the Lord," Pecker exclaimed. "You must please the shaft of righteousness. Praise the Holy Ghost."

I kid you not, that's what he said. What followed was even worse. It sounded like Saturday Night Live doing bad porn.

More sucking followed. Having experienced Carol's skills, I assume Peckeros now benefited. I might have gotten aroused if I wasn't so angry and humiliated. I don't know why I kept listening.

More rustling and Carol cried, "Pleasure my valley of righteousness. Claim my honey and sacred wine. Drink of the sweet flowing spring. Praise the Son..."

The moaning that followed matched what my tongue and lips and fingers had once brought from the cheating slut of my wife. As it would have at home, this went on for a few minutes, but the good old pastor was more impatient that I had been.

"Your sweet valley begs for a blessing," he cried.

"Bless my Jordan with your staff of righteousness. Walk through my valley," Carol cried.

"Oh...yes...please...give me the staff of the Lord."

"Receive the blessing of the Lord," Peckeros shouted. My ear did not need to be at the door for that.

"Yesssssssssss..." Carol yelled. "Fill my valley, take me...take me to the ecstasy of the Spirit. Oh God, oh God, oh God..."

More grunting and groaning. I wondered if he might have a heart attack. I think he's in his mid-fifties.

"Fuck me!" Carol screamed.

"Now sister, that is not God's language."

What an idiot, I thought.

"Fuck me," Carol screamed again. "Fuck me."

I searched my memory of the scriptures for any reference to a good fucking. Of course, the powers that be in Rome at the time had probably edited the Christian version.

"God will forgive you, my sweet sinner."

"Fuck me," she screamed again. Normally, Carol would scream like this after I had been slamming her for many minutes and she had frigged her clit and had a finger inside her ass, but I did not know if she was faking it for Pekeros or her religious fervour had made her cum sooner. I could imagine his holy cock slamming into sweet Carol's cunt, and I clenched my fists. I wanted to slam them against the door, burst in and kick the shit out of the guy, but fortunately, I was too paralyzed to move.

"Take my seed, vessel of the lord. Receive the shout of Michael. Take my forgiveness."

"Yes, yes, yes," she cried and whimpered. "Cast your seed in the fertile ground."

The sounds were obviously of a male orgasm, but too soon. Apparently Peckeros Pete was more like Quick Draw McGraw. If I had cum that quickly, Carol would have cursed me. I wondered if she still took the pill or might actually be fertile ground.

"Oh, thank you sir, sweet messenger of God. Thank you for the honour. The warmth of your blessing seed is within me."

"Get dressed," he said. "I have to get back to the church."

I could not see how that could satisfy Carol, the sex fiend. She wasn't, and I would get some benefit that night.

I briefly thought if he left her there, I could rush in for sloppy seconds of a still horny slut. I made a better choice and rushed to the elevator. As angry as I was, I would not fight here and my coffee grew cold. Actually, I'm not a fighter, but I did not know what I should do about this. I sat at my table with a fresh hot coffee and the server taking my order. Then the happy sinners, I mean receptacles of God's blessings, made their way through the lobby. Carol seemed radiant.

There was much to think about, but it surprised me I was not angrier. I guess I had already used up the anger during Carol's two year dismantling of our happy marriage. I needed a plan, and I now wanted that plan to end my formerly satisfying and happy marriage, but how to do it. Frank Connor would not seek revenge. I still loved her and if she found happiness in this church fair enough, I would be happy for her, but I would not hang around and be a cuck. By the time I reached home, my methodical mind and my preference for flight not fight had come together. It would take some time. I had to make my business unreachable for Carol's potential greed or the money lust of the head pastor. She might be vulnerable to any suggestion to turn over it all to the head pastor and his bank account.

In the short term, I got sloppy seconds, a benefit of Pekeros Pete turning out to be the snuffy. He had wound Carol up and left her hanging and lusting for more. For one brief evening, hope almost returned. She came home as one horny bitch.

The door slam caught me off guard and brought me hurrying from the kitchen. It sounded the same as two years ago. I immediately knew Pecos Pete had not satisfied her, and Carol needed a good fuck. She had lust in her eye. My anger at the hotel pushed me to take control.

"Strip, bitch...!" I did not mean bitch in the loving sense of our old sexual foreplay, but as an insult. Carol didn't care. She just wanted to be fucked and anyone would do, even a sinner.

Lust had washed sanctity from her, and she shed her dress. I remembered the sound of the zipper from leaning against a Hilton room door. Her bra and thong followed.

Thong, I thought, the bitch left me this morning ready for the hotel fuck.

"Crawl here and suck my cock."

She scooted on all fours and had my cock out in a flash. My bitch was desperate.

"Suck it like you mean it."

Her tongue licked my head and then up and down the shaft. Then her hot, wet mouth engulfed it like a hungry dog. She wasted no time in taking it all, deep throating, sucking, her tongue twisting and turning over my hard cock, worshiping it.

The thought of it being worshiped gave me some satisfaction. I nearly told her to enjoy the Lord's staff, but thought it might break her lust.

Carol sucked and slurped as I dropped my shorts to the floor and peeled off my shirt.

"Tit fuck my cock."

I wanted to be as derogatory as possible. I hadn't realized the depth of my anger and, to be honest, two years of deprivation made me wild with lust. I was going to get mine. Fortunately, her mouth had lubricated my cock.

"Harder, slut..."

I watched my hard cock slide between her tits. She tried to suck it each time I thrust up. I thought I might find a woman with bigger tits to do it right, but Carol tried hard.

"Is this good?" She begged. "Please fuck me, master."

"Not yet, slut, please your daddy."

If I was going to dominate, I would do as much as I could. I normally wasn't so harsh. She increased the speed of the tit fucking. Pre cum formed on my cock and she licked it off in desperation.

"Suck it," I again commanded.

With her mouth wrapped around my cock, I backed into the living room with her crawling in desperation, trying to keep my cock in her mouth and cupping my balls. God, it felt good.

"On the table, bitch..."

Carol assumed the old position, on her back on the coffee table, and lifted her legs, exposing her cunt and asshole. Her eyes pleaded. I knelt and positioned my mouth in front of her wet cunt. It wasn't only from her juices. Pecos' deposit showed.

"No," she cried, "don't lick it. Fuck me."

"Beg, you cunt."

I had no intention of eating the pastor's cum from her cunt, but I wanted to test her. She seemed to care that I would get her lover's cum, but I knew at this point I wasn't someone she loved, but simply a cock she craved. I now think she was so far gone with lust she had no idea of anything but her needy cunt.

"Please, fuck me, fuck your slut hard."

I rammed my cock to the hilt. Her cum lubricated cunt was ready, and she cried out in pleasure. I could forgive her she had the jerk's cum in her. She was mine now. I slammed in and out, driving her hard onto the table. Anger is a great motivator.

"Oh, fuck, yes," she screamed. "Fuck me hard. Fuck your bitch slut hard."

In her lust, Carol was a fallen angel filled with pure lust. She no longer performed for the pastor and the Lord. I was the horny devil, and she was my toy.

I slammed into her cunt, hard, unrelenting.

"Finger-fuck your ass, slut. Sluts like you want it."

"Oh yes, master, punish your slut." She sank a finger deep into her asshole. She frigged her clit like a madwoman. At that moment, she was crazy with lust.

Maybe she is mine again. I had the foolish hope.

Her first orgasm was one for the books. Maybe it was because the jerk pastor was so selfish. Maybe two years of denial had driven her cock mad. I didn't care at that moment. I had waited two years to bitch-fuck the woman I loved. She was going to get the best, and I was going to get my pleasure.

Before her first orgasm ended, another one hit her harder. I erupted into her pussy as her second massive orgasm hit. She whimpered, cried, twisted her head back and forth.

"Oh fuuuuuk," Carol screamed. "Fill my cunt, you bastard."

I tried to remember if the windows were closed.

"Clean my cock, slut," I ordered after she had recovered a bit. Her mouth attacked my cum-covered cock and the leftovers from Pastor Pekeros. Carol didn't care. She hummed as she gulped the taste. My cock twitched and gave her a small bonus. Maybe two years made it stay hard longer. Maybe it was mad at her, too.

I carried her to the bedroom and laid her spread out as a slut on our bed. Carol was in a daze and responded little. Whatever her religion had given her, the wanton slut had survived somewhere deep in her head. I guessed that's why she ended up in the hotel room with Quick Draw. I felt sorry for her as I thought of that. Perhaps the two years were more hell than heaven for her. My hope returned, but it was short-lived.

Carol slept, so I went to finish the sandwich I had been eating when my sex goddess burst in. My cock recovered, and I went to the room expectantly.

It is strange that simply stepping through a door can yank you from hope and happiness to complete desolation.

When I went in, Carol was on her knees, crying and praying out loud.

"Oh, Lord," her tears flowed. "Forgive me for despoiling you by partaking of a sinner's pleasure. I've sinned against you and against Pastor. I will never do it again with this sinner husband and will only embrace the true vessels of your love and partake of Pastor's ministrations and the blessing of his seed."

I backed out of the room, shattered and back to my anger in the Hilton coffee shop. I surrendered to reality. Carol and I were done. My plan would have to be carried out.

That night, I slept in the guest room. I could not deal with her body near mine. I exacted some revenge, though. In a night where I could not sleep, I went into our room and watched my wife in quiet slumber. It seemed she felt God had forgiven her. I had not.

I had planned to cum inside her more than once last evening, but she closed her cunt and denied me that. Perhaps I was juvenile, but my hard cock wanted release. I used my cell and recorded a video as I jerked off and covered her face with my cum. She never woke, and I had some nice still-shot closeups of her cum covered lips and face. I did not know what I would do with the video and these photos. Despite my anger, I could not humiliate her, even if she cucked me.

Her cursing screams in the morning as she discovered her cum washed face satisfied for the moment. It would be another sin she would need forgiven. Maybe another Hilton prayer session with the pastor would help. I pretended to sleep as she showered and fled the house without seeing me. I jacked off once more into her panty drawer. She could at least do some fucking laundry. Yes, juvenile, I know.

To protect my business from her greedy zealot paws, I needed to separate it from home. That morning I went to an expert in corporate law and by day's end had the paperwork ready to register a limited liability company, Frank Connor Consulting LLC. Previously, I had operated as a personal business with the same name, but in a state of what's mine is hers, that was no longer safe and I would be damned if I gave her any more than she deserved. My clients would not notice any change.

My advisor, a pleasant woman with a hot body and a ten thousand dollar wedding ring, damn, advised me not to have the corporation own any assets. By the end of the week, I had rented a small office in a mall and leased a computer suitable for my business. The office address became the address of the corporation, but it would only have a desk with an answering machine. FCC LLC rented another space with no public access, and that's where the computer stuff went. I moved a few bits of vital hardware from home, but Carol would think the home office was still where I worked. The visible computers, screens and the peripherals all looked normal.

This was just the smoke screen. The vital thing was moving all of my business banking into new corporate accounts. Carol had access to all our accounts as did I, but now she could only access what she deposited. I kept putting in a reasonable amount to cover the house expenses and make it all seem normal. My plan had to unfold slowly. If I had rushed off in a huff at her screwing the pastor, she would get too much leverage. The bulk of my business earnings went into the corporate accounts. I paid myself through new, non-joint personal accounts.

In case you think I'm a heartless bastard, I protest that I both still loved the old Carol, and not just for the sex but the fun we once shared. She had a career and a thriving business on her own, so I would not be condemning her to the poorhouse. I only wished I could fuck her, literally. Once that hope died, once she cucked me, even accidentally, it signalled the end. I could never share her lust for Jesus or forgive her rejection.

Maybe I need that second beer. The Jays blew a five run lead in the ninth and the post-game show is making excuses.

It took a month for my basic plan to be implemented. For that time, Carol barely talked to me and wouldn't even eat at home. I'm not sure if it came from embarrassment or she wanted to punish me. As a designated sinner, I doubted she would care about me. I slept in the guest room and she never said a word about it.

It was late winter, and I had no desire to leave in the bad weather. Short term, my plan was to go to Canada, back to my roots to lick my wounds, so to speak. In the long term, I would need to return to the USA since most of my customers were there. I was not sure I could or wanted to return to El Paso. Originally, I had been there to please Carol. I wanted to please my love. Not anymore, but that could wait until I had reached Canada and had healed a bit.

I had a satisfying way to kill time. My business occupied a good part of my week, but I had time to dabble. Being a security guy, I played with several entertaining distractions. I installed a tracking app on Carol's cell, so I could see where she was at any time. That would lead to several more visits to the Hilton and the discovery of Carol's preference for the younger youth pastor. I assumed he satisfied her more than Quick Draw.

I extended our home security system to cover the interior. I had mini-cameras and microphones in every room. I made trips out of town, making sure Carol would know how long I would be away. The cameras gave me some entertaining armature porn with outstanding sound quality. Carol fucked the young pastor in every room of our house on days I was out of town. I wouldn't need that for a divorce, but if Carol pissed me off enough, I might use it to humiliate her. That would likely never happen. I'm a nice guy, but later in life I might find them as titillating memories of another time. I'm just sorry Carol and I never made a fuck tape.

I remember the children opening mom's trunk in The Bridges of Madison County. I won't have kids, but perhaps it might shock someone when they cleaned out my house. If I ever found love again, I resolved to destroy all this evidence.

More importantly, and this stuff I might use, I said I had done security work for the church and the pastor's mansion. People like them never understand follow up in security, unlike my more sophisticated corporate clients. I still had full access to their computer network and the house security cameras. The pastor had insisted that I fully cover the interior with video and sound.

Normally, my ethics and likely the law kept me from exploiting it, but once they seduced my wife into their group, I figured no holds barred. The computer network bored me, although a numbered off-shore account received a lot of transfers. I easily downloaded their daily action without a trace. After all, I installed the security anti-hacking protocols. If I ever became angry enough, maybe the FBI would get all that from an anonymous source.

Between the e-mails and the security cameras in the pastor's mansion, I built a fine collection of hanky-panky. Carol gave the senior pastor frequent cock sucking, as did many other women. Interestingly, they youth pastor sucked the old guy off, too. It was still great porn. This church had an interesting liturgy and rituals. My favourite was a bisexual orgy as a crowd fucked in the main room. Carol was a star performer.

I had arrived home from servicing a client. No you dirty buggers, not that kind of servicing. Carol had not come home since yesterday. I cracked a beer in front of the large screen TV and brought up last night's video of the manse from my network. I knew they had scheduled some action there.

A quick skim found nothing, but the old guy sat in his huge main room. He seemed to rub his cock through his pants.

Dirty bugger, I thought.

There were more soft couches and padded tables around the room. I had installed four cameras in that room, recording in several directions that covered the complete space. Two scantily dressed maids set up a bar and covered a table with a variety of things. I zoomed the camera a bit. They were sex toys, restraints, whips and blind folds. I knew something big was up, and not just the pastor's cock, definitely not the pastor's cock. The maids' tits barely stayed inside their tops. In the end, that would not be an issue.

The time stamp said 6:45, so I guessed nothing would happen until after seven. I paused the playback and went to change into something more comfortable, as they say and grabbed a bottle of wine and a tumbler. I had taken a liking to Carol's refused wine, but I was a country kid and a tumbler was a wineglass to me. Start and fast forward twenty minutes. The first guests had arrived. As with protocol, these were the assistant pastors and the deacons. Only about half of them had their wives with them. Apparently, not all the wives liked to fuck in public. It soon became apparent that the ones who did had dressed for it. Even before the fun began, they exposed a lot of cleavages and thighs.

I turned up the sound.

"Oh, pastor, thank you for inviting me." The older wife of the second pastor leaned over and kissed the pastor on the lips as he still sat. She took his hand and placed it on her tit. Why my cock stirred at an old bitty escaped me. I think I was getting too involved in the past few months of real life porn and too deprived otherwise. He pinched her nipple, and she moved on.

The scene quickly became one where I didn't know where to look. Groping, kissing and even some finger fucking had begun. This orgy had no script, so in that way, it matched a lot of porn. Unlike porn orgies, there seemed to be no awkward introductions. I guessed this was not the first one.