The Meek Shall Pt. 01

Carol's arrival gave me a focus. She looked gorgeous, sexy and wearing something that made her ass and tits look naked. I had never seen that dress. Everyone focused on her.

"Praise the Lord," came from everyone. "Oh my God," one woman cried. "I want one of those."

I wasn't sure she meant Carol or her dress.

The youth pastor took her hand and led Carol to the bar. His wife was one of the missing ones. Carol took a large drink. I think it was whisky, which I didn't think she liked. I would later find out that one bit of nonsense in this crowd claimed that the stronger the drink, the more Holy Spirit it contained; the more sacred the drink, the purer the following actions. I'm not sure they are capable of puns.

"To be close to the Lord," the pastor raised his own glass. "Praise the warming heavenly spirit." Carol replied and took a large gulp. She didn't cough at its strength.

Do they believe this shit? I wondered.

I paused the video. The scene with Carol had made me angry. I didn't know she was such a slut outside of our marriage. Why did she need to find religion to release it? Thinking back, I don't care anymore. I slugged some wine and started the video.

By the time Carol had gulped her fire water, the sounds of sex had filled the soundtrack. I could only catch snippets from then on, but "oh god, fuck me" seemed to be popular. I focused on Carol. Maybe I'm a masochist at heart.

Carol slipped her dress over her head and laid it on the bar. One maid took it and the other came behind Carol and fondled her tits, drawing her against her own ample chest. The pastor knelt, fully clothed, and dove into Carol's crotch. She writhed against his mouth as the maid pulled her nipples. I could hear her gasp and then twist around to kiss the woman behind her. They played tongue tag as she lifted a leg over the pastor's shoulder and drew his face in tight against her cunt. Her orgasmic scream filled the room and everyone stopped fucking long enough to clap.

While Carol recovered, I switched to the scene with the old pastor. A naked middle-aged woman, the wife of the janitor I remembered, was on all fours, sucking valiantly on the older man's cock. It was obvious she wasn't turning him on or he was incapable of an erection. While she tried, her husband slammed into her cunt, doggy style. He was as slow cumming as the pastor was in getting an erection. The husband and wife pair worked diligently. I joked to myself that the janitor was a meticulous worker. Another wife of one deacon straddled the old man and shoved her cunt into his mouth. He finally showed some erection. I became bored.

Another view showed that some toys had come into use. They had stripped one woman naked and placed her on her back on a padded bench. Cuffs anchored her arms and legs so that her cunt and ass were wide open. She had a blindfold on. Two of the elders stood naked by her face and while she sucked one cock, the other rubbed her tits. Various players, men and women, some naked, a few still clothed, crawled between her legs and licked her cunt and her ass. Finally, one man stood and rammed his cock into the trapped slut. She cried out in pleasure between sucking cocks. The one in her twat was larger than any I had seen. I hoped I might find out if Carol would take it. This slut took it to the hilt and writhed in orgasm after orgasm. One elder came into her mouth while the other sprayed an impressive amount of cum on her tits. A woman rushed over to lick her clean and suck and bite her nipples. The prone woman seemed in heaven.

A commotion made me search the cameras until I found my Carol lying on her back on top of the youth pastor. He had his cock buried deep in her ass. Another man pumped hard into Carol's cunt. Two women sucked her nipples. The youth pastor sucked on a medium hard cock.

I paused the video and took a break. My cock was now as hard as steel. I wished I had a cunt to drive it into. Carol's cunt would have been the best, but my morals had slipped and I would do anyone handy. Sadly, no one was near.

I restarted Carol's humiliation, except she seemed to be frantic with pleasure. Now, both she and the pastor sucked cock as they fucked her to heaven.

Maybe she actually is in heaven, I thought.

My hand pumped my cock wildly. I needed to cum and, as chance would have it, my eruption matched a screaming orgasm from Carol on the video. I went limp and so did my porn star wife. My cum flew everywhere.

The old bastard will have lots of porn to watch from this. I smiled at the thought. I should have charged extra to install it.

My orgasm drained me and after a few minutes, I idly flipped through the scenes. I watched two bits of interest before calling it a night.

The old pastor finally had a hard cock, but it was in a man's mouth. Another cock fucked the pastor's cunt mouth.

Well, well, I thought, here's something that might be useful.

I still would not consider extortion, but the thought surfaced.

The last scene had Carol on her knees, tongue deep in an elder's wife's cunt. I never knew she was bi. As she did this, the elder slammed into Carol's cunt from behind. Husband and wife tag teams seemed to be the norm. I wondered why Carol never tried to draw me in deeper. It was obvious why she no longer cared about sex at home, sin or no sin.

I turned off the naked melee and went to shower. I would duplicate and safely store this video for sure.

I didn't clean my cum off the floor and sofa. Maybe Carol would find it and it would disgust her. Maybe she would lick up my dry cum.

I attended services regularly after that just to bug her. Even though I had not meant to cheat on her, I ended up fucking the youth pastor's wife in the church Sunday school room.

The youth pastor's wife surprised me. Unlike some others who had blatantly suggested we fuck, she had not even engaged me in flirting or suggestive innuendo. She did not appear on any video so far and definitely did not go to the orgy. As a matter of fact, I had had little to do with her beyond the occasional "hi, how are you". Francis, I later knew her as Fran, ran the Sunday school. Fran left with the children after the hooting and hollering of the worship music and only reappeared at coffee hour.

In the second week of my campaign to piss off Carol, things changed. I stood innocently beside the goodie-table sipping a coffee. Well, I wasn't so innocent but tried to see if one of the more endowed ladies who served treats showed a nipple through a rather tight blouse that clung to her tits. I had seen those tits naked on video. I then noticed that across the room, the youth pastor's hand stroked Carol's ass. After what I had seen on the video, this looked tame.

Someone else noticed those ongoing holy ministrations. Fran had just finished dolling out Kool-aid and cookies to the kids, and she glowered at her husband's ass fondling. I never saw her approaching until...

"Your wife has a nice ass," Fran said. It was more of a snarl. "You don't seem to mind."

I looked at her with sympathy. They had cucked me for months, but she seemed to have only realized what was going on.

"I didn't know you liked women's asses. Carol has been screwing around on me for over a year," I said. "That's tame."

I nodded at the culprits.

Carol had turned to hide the hand that now rubbed a little more vigorously.

"I know," Fran said. "I have often wondered how you can take it. Why do you even come here?"

"Because," I said. "It bugs her. It reminds her of her sinning. Notice she can't even look this way."

"She doesn't seem to mind," Fran said. "I see in her zealotry she likes ass worship. Don't you want to get even?"

"Do you mind your randy husband feeling up my wife? Actually, they fuck like rabbits." I leaned close to her ear for that one. I didn't care about shocking the crowd nearby, but I didn't want to embarrass the lady.

"I know," Fran replied. "He brags to me he's bringing a sinner to the Lord, just like he did for me. He's full of shit."

"What...?" I asked.

"Look at me," she said. "Do you see this?"

She pulled her top to one side to show a rather racy tattoo above her breast.

"I was a street kid and Gord was a street worker for the mission. He rescued me. I think now he saw a chance to have an easy fuck whenever he wanted, so he had me in bed a few days after the mission had given me a small apartment. They liked it when one of us street people actually accepted their offer. Most out there just want the independence. I didn't give a fuck and wanted a safe place. Gord found it a convenient place to fuck me. Back then, I didn't know if I needed to fuck him to keep the place, so I did. It helps that I enjoy fucking."

I looked shocked. I didn't miss her changing to the present tense.

"You can take the woman off the street, but you can't take the street off the woman. I had fucked for favours, usually food, so Gord doing it just seemed normal. He actually treated me well, and I guess he liked my fucking, so eventually we married. Putting up with his religious stuff seemed no biggie. As you can see," she nodded at Gord and Carol, "his beliefs are shallow. This is a well-paid gig for him, as long as he delivers women to the pastor and his insiders. He hasn't tried to force me, yet, but I'm old for the old man's taste, and he bats left more than right. Your wife qualified, but I think he uses her as bait to get men to fuck him."

"Oh, I didn't mean to say too much."

For the first time, I looked closely at Fran. She was older than either me or Carol, maybe by a decade. She still looked good.

"Why don't you leave?" I asked.

"Where would I go? I have little education, no qualifications for anything, and no family to mooch off. I'm stuck, but it isn't so bad. He fucks me less and I miss that. He's good with his cock and everything else."

"So I noticed. I have the tapes." I laughed.

"Do you like sex?" Fran asked.

"Do gophers like dust?" I asked.

Fran looked around. No one paid us any attention.

"Follow me; wait a bit after I go."

She headed towards the basement stairs. That seemed normal since the washrooms were downstairs, as were the Sunday school rooms. A minute after she disappeared, I trailed behind. A quick glace told me Carol focused on her sopping pussy and Greg's hand worshiping her ass. No one would remember Fran had gone that way.

Fran stood at the far end of the corridor at one of the Sunday school room doors. She disappeared, and I hurried after her. As I got inside, the door banged shut behind me and the lock clicked. Fran sprang like a cat and pushed me hard against the door. I gasped, and a tongue took advantage and dove deep into my mouth. God, she was horny, wild and good. I had never had such a tongue fucking, even from Carol. I could have done that all day, but Fran knew better.

"We have little time, this time," she panted and yanked at my belt. For the first time, I felt her large breasts through her top.

"Get them out and suck them, you fucker," Fran said as she yanked my pants down and grabbed my now hard cock.

"Praise the Lord," she said. Fran didn't bother to hide her sarcasm. "You're bigger than my fucker, Gordie. What a heavenly rod and staff."

"I try to please," I gasped between mouthfuls of the tit I was trying to please.

She pushed me to a table and lay back on it. I wonder when she had removed her panties, but her spread legs told me what to do.

"Hurry," she said, "fuck me into next week. We have five minutes."

"I like to take longer," I said as I drove my cock deep into her well-lubricated cunt.

"Next time," Fran cried. "Fuck me now, my big cocked sinning bastard. Fuck your faithful slut."

I obliged, and she came with a scream that I stifled with my hand. She didn't sound like a Sunday school lesson and the muffled "fuck me" was not nursery rhyme. I sped up and shot into her just as she came down from her high. It sent her into another, less intense cum.

"Am I as good as your slut?" Fran asked.

I figured it was a draw between her and Carol for fucking ability. I would need more data from Fran.

We hurriedly dressed. I found her soaking panties, but she rubbed them on my face and shoved them into my pocket.

"So you remember me," she said as she pulled her top over her bra covered tits.

"This isn't love," Fran said, "at least not yet, but I want to fuck you again. I haven't felt that good in years. Give me your phone."

Fran punched in her number.

"Call me soon," she emphasized. "He's out every evening and most days until four. We can't meet at my place."

"How did you ever become a Sunday school teacher if you don't believe? You sound more educated than a street kid."

"I had lots of spare time with Gord, so I went to extension school and learned English. It's only natural that the youth pastor's wife teaches Sunday school. I love it because it gets me out of the fucking sermon and the kids are fun."

"Fran, you are a great fuck," I said as we reached the door. "I'll call, and I have an idea. Can you get away in the afternoons?"

"Yah, Gord doesn't care what I do. Maybe some evenings when we know he's fucking your slut, we can meet then, too."

"Let me go first," I said and, after checking the hallway, slipped out to join the cookie crowd. I met Carol near the coffee urn.

"Have you found Jesus yet?" She asked indifferently, as if she didn't care. "You'll never get to heaven otherwise."

"I've been to heaven already," I patted her ass where Gord's hand had been, "Remember...?" I kissed her hard on the mouth. I hope she tasted Fran.

I hurried to the front door but felt her glare on my back.

I don't think Carol knew I knew about her fucking every holy shaft she could find and the valleys of the shadows of ecstasy. That she had become such a slut so quickly made me wonder what she had done before we met. Not that I cared any longer. I wonder if she would care if she knew I knew.

I had a bed couch installed in the corporate front office where I didn't need to cover Fran's mouth. I resisted taking more holy women to the office. Fran's niceness, caring and wild fucking satisfied me. It made life in the guest room bearable. I briefly wondered if I should leave at all, but with my mind and heart in turmoil, I needed a break. I wasn't ready for another woman, and Fran seemed too good to be true.

While all this was happening, I prepared to make my getaway. Okay, that's too dramatic, my trip home for a rest. Spring had sprung, and I wanted to spend a summer out of the Texas heat. To do this, the corporation hired its only employee.

Trish was a smart recent graduate from Texas Tech and needed to pay off her loans. Get your mind out of the gutter. I had no desire or need to fuck her, although she was as cute as fuck. I still had the youth pastor's wife for that, and Trish had a bright future in computing and in love. She didn't need a middle-aged fart screwing that up.

We got along well and I paid her enough to cover her loans and to live on. When I left, my paying Carol's rent and utilities would stop. I no longer thought of the house as mine. It satisfied me that the money would now pay Trish. She did not have access to the accounts, but she got a high-limit company credit card. I told her not to abuse it too much. I teased her she would not look good in orange going up for embezzlement or tax evasion. Trish also would be the contact for the bookkeeper.

I wanted to only involve her in the technical work, but Trish soon said she liked to meet clients and learn security. She already had most of the tools to do both. She could charm a cat down a pole, so sales were a cinch. Trish also knew the latest about computers and taught me some things in the first two months we worked together. We could be in touch in real time and perhaps I could drum up more Canadian business. I felt comfortable leaving her in charge of the El Paso operation.

Fran was another matter. If I returned, we would see where it all went. It turned out she was only six years older than I was. Gord robbed the cradle. Fran told me she had just turned 18 when he started fucking her.

So the time had arrived. Carol had been almost invisible in my life. Our paths only crossed at home and she said little. I said less. I started one conversation because I wanted to know a day when she would be out until late. My access to the church e-mail let me know when she would be likely spending an evening getting fucked by someone, but I wanted to give her a hard time.

"Carol," I said as she arrived home one evening, "let's go out on Thursday and have a nice meal and maybe dance."

"Dancing is a sin," Carol said. "No, I'm busy Thursday, anyway."

"How about we do it Friday, then?" I'm a mean bugger sometimes. I knew that the youth pastor had arranged some fucking for Thursday and on Friday evening she would be at the head pastor's mansion, likely all night.

"We'll fuck you then," I said.

"You'll never do that again, sinner." I'm not sure if it was hate or disgust in her eyes. It made my leaving easier.

"You can never be sure, angel." I'm not sure if she thought of herself as an angel or what. Harlot came to mind, but I tried to make it sound Humphrey Bogart sarcastic. It went over her head. Friday would be perfect. Thursday would be my last fuck with Fran, at least until I returned. I actually really liked that woman. Friday, I would close the public office and transfer the corporate address to the private office where Trish worked.

I rented a small van on Thursday, and on Friday morning when Carol left, I backed it to the house and removed all of my belongings, including the computer setup, and I took every shared memento, pictures of us together and any of me. I left the rest scattered on the living room floor. Anything I didn't want or want to leave, I burned in the fireplace. I also left the video setup. I might get bored in Canada.

By afternoon, most of my life with Carol ended up in a rented locker along with anything I didn't want to take to Canada. The corporation owned nothing, and the rented stuff had no value to a divorce court. Anything she might touch was in the locker and only I knew where that was.

"Trish," I wanted to make sure she understood, "my wife might call trying to find me. You can tell her anything. I doubt she will care enough to hunt me down anyway. If she harasses you, let me know and block her number on the company phones."

"A woman named Fran might also call. She's nice. Take her for lunch on the company card. She will be able to call me directly, but I might send her to you. I'll be back in a month or two, when it gets cooler here. I'll be in touch every day and if a client needs me, call."

I hugged Trish and left.

I dropped my car in the driveway with the keys in the ignition. Let her pay the insurance. Maybe someone would steal it before she wandered home. A leased SUV brought me to Canada and only a few belongings. They have nice clothing stores in Toronto. That first day I drove all the way across Texas, only stopping for gas and food. I crashed in an Arkansas motel 36 hours later.

In the hotel in Toronto, I closed my laptop.

My cell dinged with a text message. It is Carol.

"Where are you? Why is your car here but not you?"

"Nice of you to notice four days after I left," I replied and turned off my cell.

I'm going to have another beer, hell I might get drunk tonight and watch the Kings fight the Golden Knights in a quarter-round hockey playoff late game. Tonight, life seems simple. Tomorrow, I will call Trish, and Fran.

Stay tuned for tomorrow.