The Meek Shall Pt. 02

Lord Jesus, please forgive me. Tears drip and I sob, sitting on this lounger by the pool and with these memories of sin. Frank's abandonment has given me hurt in my mind and heart.

How did I meet Frank? The fundamental lack in my life was a permanent partner. Then, I just thought a fuck buddy on call would be great. The one-nighters I found at clubs did not satisfy me and were a danger. I stopped clubbing after one violent asshole experience. Forgive me Jesus. In these modern times, the internet seemed a good option. It harboured mostly geeks and losers until I found Frank. He is a geek, but not a looser. Oh, he is a sinner, but with God's help and perhaps a little help from my genuine friends, in his time he will sin no more and we will share the intimate joys of Jesus. If he returns.

Frank was different. Why do I still smile thinking of him? I love him and there is hope in love. This lounger is so soft, and El Paso has such warm nights. I'll just lay back here and remember. My eyes are heavy.

Frank used to call me his "internet pickup chick", but we did not meet on a dating or fuck-me site. He had just begun his internet security business and had by that time taken down a couple of scams sex sites. Frank has a range of interests and he started following my decorating and design blog. I never paid attention to people "liking" my posts, but in one blog I mentioned that someone had spoofed my site and trying to steal my contacts. Frank replied the problem lay in his company's expertise and perhaps he could help. He was small potatoes, as they say. I'm not internet savvy, but I knew enough to be cautious. For all I knew, Frank could be the jerk causing the problem. It took three months of chatting, then e-mailing and messaging on Facebook for me to decide to risk it. Frank and I had lots of similar interests, including baseball and camping. The problem had become frustrating and I think it had cost me business, so I agreed. My internet host was useless.

"Trust me, Carol. I wouldn't blame you for saying no. I need full access to your site and server."

He had already charmed me and by then I decided that a scammer or crook would not be as patient, so I said yes. I gave him my access information so he could log in.

"I can give you the link to the hacker," I said.

"I already have it," Frank replied. "I'm going to download every comment and like on your blog since before this started and look for the link to that site."

"Why would they target me?" I asked. "Maybe they want to get into my pants."

That was further than Frank and I had gone with our online relationship. We had never even talked about getting together.

"You are successful and making money. I think some competitor in El Paso hired someone to steal your customers."

Frank never acknowledged my comment about sex.

"Give me a few days." He said.

For the rest of the week we never chatted, but each morning he wrote, "Good morning, I'm working on it. Have a great day." and every evening he wished me good night. Then one afternoon, I received an e-mail from Frank with an attached document.

The e-mail said:

"Someone in El Paso named Dorothy Lang hired a hacker from Ukraine to steal your data. I think she intended to have your site locked as well. The hacker wanted to hit you with ransom ware, but she had not yet agreed. Your site seemed to be too valuable to her. You will see the details in the PDF. I solved your problem. And your site is pretty much bullet proof, although nothing is perfect. I'll keep an eye on it for free. The hacker has a fried computer."

"I wish I could pay you back, take you to dinner or something."

"Is that a date?" Frank asked.

"Just dinner," I said, but he could not see me blush through the text.

"When?" he asked.

"The airport Hilton has a great dining room."

"Is next Wednesday good?" Frank asked.

"Yes, but you are in Canada, wherever the hell that is."

"Wait for me in the lobby for 7 PM." He said. "I'll be coming from the elevators."

From his Facebook page, I knew he seemed to look okay, unless he used someone else's pic. I hope he wasn't ugly. Looks mean little to me, but I was already a bit in love.

I lean back in this lounger, almost sleeping, remembering the happiest night of my life to that point, until I found Jesus again.

We had a wonderful meal. Frank is gorgeous; neither a stud nor a slob, but just right, my perfect bowl of porridge. He had said right away that we were friends, and he had no expectations and would remain that way, but Frank and I fucked that night. It was the first time I ever fucked someone I loved. I found out later I had taken Frank's cherry. That was probably another first for me. I shouted, "Fuck you, Mother," when Frank made me cum. He asked where the hell that came from and I told him the sad story of my mother's narrow religiosity and the endless hours of Sunday school she made me endure. I thank her now and cry for Frank.

Frank moved to El Paso by winter and, as they say, long story short, we had ten years of wild, hot, loving bliss. His business was transferable, but mine was not. It actually made his business even better and in two years he made money hand over fist. The green card came quickly, and we both prospered.

Why, oh why, Frank, won't you find Jesus and make things like they were before? As much as I love you, I can never fuck a sinner except to save you.

Oh, I feel so comforted out here in the night. The sky is full of stars and I...

I must have been exhausted last night and woke still beside the pool in yesterday's work suit. I'll kneel here and pray, and then have a shower and have breakfast. There is no work today, so I will relax. I won't be seeing Brother Gord until tomorrow.

I can't seem to get away from thinking about Frank and my past. Has Frank's leaving stirred all this up? God forgive him.

I have travelled a long road to here. Most of that road was wonderful, but I now see I founded it on sin. We had many things in common, and the main one was not sex. We fucked often and everywhere. I especially loved our victory fucks when I landed a big client and Frank fucked my brains out. Oh, I shouldn't even think in such a vulgar language. Jesus, forgive me, but I can't help it.

I would come home victorious and demand he fuck his slut curtain hanger. I always warned him; so many times he would be naked and hard as I slammed the door. Sometimes he would strip me and fuck me on the coffee table, but I loved the pretend rape scene the best. He would be naked when I arrived.

"Come here, slut," he demanded. "Suck my cock."

Frank pushed me to my knees, fully clothed, and grabbed my hair. I licked his cock, tasting pre-cum, gently, my lips wrapped around the head and I sucked hard. Then I would slide my mouth down the shaft until I had buried his cock in my throat. I can always deep trout and my spiritual leader Gord loves that.

Frank thrust in and out of my cunt mouth, deep and then back.

"Take that, you fucking whore," he cried. "Fuck Daddy's cock with your slut's cunt mouth."

Before he came, Frank pulled me up by the hair and slammed me against the wall. He lifted my skirt, pulled my panties aside, and rammed his cock to the hilt into my dripping cunt.

"Oh, fuck me Daddy. Fuck your slut whore wife. Fuck her hard."

Frank thrust in and out, grunting like a maniac, slamming me against the wall as if I am a five-dollar whore in an alley. I came hard, gushing over his cock. He thrust harder.

"You like that, don't you, slut? You came all over daddy's cock. Cum again, my whore, please daddy."

His thrusts increased, and I came again, hard, screaming, wrapping my legs around him to take him deeper. I sucked his tongue deep into my mouth, and he came, hard, big, and sloppy. He held me, hung on his cock until it gradually softened.

"I love you, my cheap slut whore."

"I love you, daddy Frank. I love your cock. I am yours."

He carried me to the bedroom, laid me on the bed, and gently undressed me. He then lay beside me, pulled me on top and we kissed gently with our naked bodies, feeling each other's love.

Occasionally, he surprised me with reverse roles. I would open the door to find him naked on all fours with a dog collar and holding a leash in his mouth. He would sit back on his haunches as I closed the door and sit up with his hands hanging like a begging puppy. I never knew when I would find him to be my pet. It wasn't to celebrate my new business, but usually, he had had a huge success of his own, either a new big money client or had slammed some hacker either electronically or legally or both.

Frank would be my slave on those evening and I always made the most of it. My cunt and ass got well licked. Usually the first was right in the door. I would strip off my bottoms and panties and make him crawl to me, whimpering. I just pointed at my crotch and he went to work. The routine was for him to start by licking my toes and then slowly, sensuously kiss and lick and suck them and then up my leg. I love my ankles being kissed and licked. His lips and tongue on the inside of my thighs drove me crazy, and he would usually drink my dripping cunt juice long before his mouth hit my cunt. My first orgasm usually came quickly when he did that.

Sometimes I was too hot and yanked his leash so that his face was in my cunt right away. He would then go at me fast and hard like I was his bitch in heat. Almost every one of these sessions ended with my face on the couch, my tits hanging down as he slammed me doggy style from behind. He howled like a hell-hound then. I begged like the bitch in heat I was.

Sometimes, in the dog fantasy, I would be cruel and make him crawl and whimper, and beg, sometimes for hours. I would strip and masturbate and do anything to drive him crazy. Usually, that ended in bed when he would fuck my brains out until we were both exhausted. To say we both loved sex and sex with each other is an understatement.

Please Lord, forgive me, but I love Frank and want him back. I will bring him to the fold. Oh, God, why am I thinking so much about sex?

I poke around, trying to see what Frank left. He had cleaned out his office except for the furniture, but I found the camping gear in the third bedroom we used for storage.

The camping gear, I thought. I remember...

Frank tied the hanging tent to the three scrub oaks. It is always good in New Mexico to sleep above the ground. Snakes and the desert rodents wouldn't be a problem. We liked to camp on higher elevations. It is cooler and has more diverse vegetation. The hanging tent is wonderful for sex, like fucking on a trampoline. I often imagined it was as close as we could get to fucking on the space station.

Being in the open air, and high up where the sky glowed with stars, always made me horny. Frank seemed the same.

"Lick my cunt," you bastard. I spread my legs wide on the camp chair. Frank knelt in the dust and went right to my slit. His nose rubbed my clit, replacing my fingers that had been there for several minutes. He alternated between tongue fucking my cunt and sucking on my horny clit. His finger slid into my cunt hole and played with it like a plumber's snake. It found my G-spot, and he pushed another two fingers in. I humped my crotch against his hand as he bit my clit. My legs wrapped around his head as I howled like a coyote and gushed over his face. He kissed up my stomach, sucked each nipple until I came again and then gave me a deep tongue fucking kiss, spreading my juices into my mouth.

He stood and led me to the tent. He did not want a suck. Frank wanted a fuck. This was not making love. This was rutting like rabbits, wild, wanton. The tent floor bounced up and down as Frank slammed into me. His cock went completely into my cunt, and then with the spring of the hanging tent floor would slide almost out so the head parted my lips, and then followed it in as the tent pushed me up onto his cock. We were in the wilderness. In a campground. They would have arrested us, as my screams of pleasure echoed into the night.

The significant part about camping was that we spent the days hiking, taking photos and talking about everything. We were both liberal in our views, perhaps Frank more so being Canadian, but here in the grasp of nature, the heart-wrenching issues of society seemed safer to consider. I miss those talks with Frank. We both were so horny by the time we had dinner over the open fire that we always fucked every night we camped.

The best memory was the time that the tent fell down as we fucked. Actually, it is a three cornered tent and the rope at our foot end slipped. It was fast enough to startle, but before we hit the ground, it angled down and I slammed hard all the way onto Frank's cock. My orgasmic scream and my ass hitting the ground came at the same time. Frank and I often laughed about that, that it took him and Isaac Newton to satisfy me.

I had slumped to the floor and as I remembered; I had finger fucked myself, and I came with a shudder and a scream, almost as loud as in the New Mexico hills.

When I calmed, I frowned. I remembered Frank's last attempt to make me sin. He took me to the desert, but I refused. He would never know that I prayed almost constantly to resist my flesh. God, I wanted to fuck Frank so badly that week. Thank you for giving me the strength to resist.

Please God, give me a holy shaft to worship soon. I know this is my challenge you have given me to test my faithfulness. Pastor has told me so, but I need rapturous release.

My path to salvation had not taken long, but the first week I went to services, I returned home to make fun at the total show. I said the pastor looked like a clown in his robes and the people were nuts. Forgive me Lord. A woman, later I discovered it was the assistant pastor's wife, invited me to the Tuesday night prayer meeting. I rudely declined, but she just smiled.

The next service was similar, and she asked me again. I refused, but I had felt a twinge in the service. Pastor's message had twigged something from my childhood, a good feeling of hope and comfort from Sunday school.

BY the second week, I had reached the point of emptying some of the manse rooms and had ordered drapes, carpets and the painters. Pastor cornered me, standing too close, but he reminded me I had mentioned Frank did computer and building security. He asked if Frank would quote. I passed on the request, and the next day Frank and the pastor toured the manse and then Frank examined the computer network and the video and sound systems in the sanctuary. Pastor accepted the quote and Frank and I had one of his victory fucks. I still loved the sinning then.

He replaced all the church computers with modern ones and Frank explained to me he had added a new server and Wi-Fi to make security better. Frank asked the pastor to create the passwords, but he asked Frank to do that and just tell him.

It made me unhappy when, about the middle of my manse work, a team came and installed video-sound cameras in the master-bedroom and all the rooms. I told Pastor I could have incorporated them into my finishing, but he said it was fine. I hate my work being desecrated by that kind of stuff. Cameras covered the whole yard and the driveway, and all the big banquet party rooms. It all connected to the network and Frank smiled. It was the first system he had installed from the ground up, and it thrilled Pastor.

By the sixth week, I had relented and attended the prayer meetings. They were better than I thought, with more socializing than praying. The women were funny and raunchy, with lots of sexual innuendo. At first, I thought they were a bit too feely and touched each other in inappropriate places. I now understand that they had taken of the holy sacraments and enjoyed each other, spiritually and physically.

The job had almost a month to run, but I looked forward to the services and even to pray on my own. At home, I did not let Frank see the new Carol, but I think he noticed. Pastor had asked Frank to attend at least one Sunday service and he did about the time I had loved them. I did not like his sarcasm. It seemed harsher than mine before Jesus embraced me. Frank said they all gave him the creeps.

At that next prayer meeting, the assistant pastor appeared and talked to his wife, who led the meetings. One of the other women went with him for a private prayer time, and she returned glowing and praising the Lord and thanking the pastor for his ministrations.

Pastor and his wife looked at me and smiled. He was a handsome man for being older and I blushed at the attention. The next week, he asked me if I would go with him to discuss my relationship with the Lord. I was eager to do it. We talked of salvation and my being loved by God. He described the creed of this church and explained that they expected faithfulness and sexual celibacy outside of the faith. Sex with sinners was abhorrent in God's sight, but no kind of sex inside the faith was sinful. In fact, he said, sex between congregants was a sacrament and strengthened the congregation and our relationship with Jesus. I trusted the man, and it made sense.

At the end of our session, we knelt and prayed with our cheeks touching. We stood, and he hugged me and that's the first time I felt his holy staff pressing hard against me. I confess I felt aroused and my sex became wet.

"Are you saved, Sister?" He asked.

I cried, "Yes I love the Lord", and fell to my knees once more and he prayed over me. His hands wrapped around my head and my face pushed against his hard member that tented his trousers. My tongue extended in reflex before I blushed and pulled back.

I am saved. I am saved. I remember the joy.

I was so happy when I got home and Frank and I made love, but I felt as if sex with Frank was not right. After he fell asleep, I prayed for forgiveness from the sin of having sex with an unsaved soul.

Frank finished the job for Pastor and never returned to services seeking the Lord, and our sex life declined and stopped. I could see his pain, but I would not sin. Frank and I argued about it. For the first time in ten years, we had a big fight that ended in a silent standoff that lasted days. I dearly wanted to have sex with him. I missed it, but I would not fall from grace.

The worst was, I could not celebrate the successes of my business. Because I had joined the congregation, many of the wealthier adherents hired me to decorate their homes. These were enormous jobs that usually would have led to a sinful night with Frank. My arousal remained, but I had no outlet.

My frustration came to a head one day when I signed the biggest contract after the manse work. I became aroused, but had no relief. I went to the sanctuary to pray.

I sat in the front pew and spilled my heart out to God, loudly, openly, in full voice. I cried actual tears of joy and frustration.

"Bless you, my dear."

"What?" My eyes opened. She startled me. It was the assistant pastor's wife. Angela had heard me cry out. She hugged me and comforted me, kissing my hair.

"Now, now, my dear, be still and feel the Lord's love."

She rocked me, kissing my head and cheeks. Her hands held me and one found my breast. With my eyes closed, I could feel Frank. Or was it Jesus touching me? I became more aroused and my hand pressed her hand tight on my breast, seeking God's comfort.

We rocked gently, and her other hand felt my other breast. I was so comforting. Her lips kissed mine, soft and loving. She nibbled slightly and then said; accept the comfort of the Lord. Peace suddenly washed me. She took my hand and placed it on her breast. Her nipple was hard, and I so wanted to feel it. Her hand slipped beneath my top and cupped my breast through my bra, before she slipped that up and gently squeezed my nipple between two fingers. I was in heaven. My sex dripped. I had never had sex with a woman, but she was God loving me. It was him comforting me. I slid my hand under her top. She had no bra on and her nipple was hard. I found the other the same. Her hand slipped under my skirt and found my wet panties. She rubbed, gently found the clit, and massaged. I suddenly felt the Lord's ecstasy and gasped and shook. Her lips found mine and her tongue dove into my mouth. My tongue responded, and we shared each other's delight.