The Pastor's Wife

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at something a little longer form that's more of a slow burn. The main arc of this story is a seduction, and as such not every chapter is going to be filled with sex. Hopefully the good bits that are included will be enough to get you off, but I hope you enjoy the story I'm trying to tell, and I welcome your feedback. Whether this does it for you or not, thank you for reading. I promise that when we get where we're going, it's going to be worth the trip.

Chapter One:

It was a beautiful day in suburban Tennessee. Spring was coming to a close and summer was beginning to heat things up, but the days of scorching heat were still a few weeks away. Schools had let out only a few days before and many families had left for the beaches and mountains on vacation.

The Phillips house was in a cul-de-sac, surrounded by other ranch style homes from the 1970s. It was a respectable home, neither fancy nor drab, with a fresh white coat of paint and dark brown trim; a style-update courtesy of the woman of the house. Its backyard, which contained shaded patio area and a tank pool, was enclosed by a wooden fence stained to match the home's trim. The house was stylish and well-kept, with the only touch of ornamentation being a golden cross hanging from the front door, the only exterior sign that this was the home of a respected pastor for the local Methodist church.

Said pastor was Adam Phillips, and he was currently away from several weeks to attend a regional conference of the United Methodist Church. In recent years the church had been rocked with internal strife over numerous social issues, including the inclusion of members of the LGBTQ community and the validity of female priests, and so Adam and the other attendees were expected to be away for an extended period while various conferences and then the church came to a consensus on these issues.

All of this was a complex and interesting topic for someone interested in the inner workings of organized religion, but the only thing that Mrs. Phillips cared about was that her husband was going to be gone from the middle of May until well into June. This would free her to pursue various extracurricular activities with a freedom that she was normally denied.

Sage Phillips was a stunningly beautiful and fiercely intelligent woman. She was thirty-five, two years younger than her husband, and had aged well into the full bloom of her womanhood over the years. She had thick, dark hair and brilliantly blue eyes that men tended to find either intimidating or alluring. She had an athletic build from her days as an NCAA soccer player, which she maintained with vigorous yoga and cardio sessions. Before meeting Adam, she'd been one of Ole Miss's most promising law students, with a bright future ahead of her. When they'd moved in after the wedding, she'd insisted on placing her two degrees on the wall right next to Adam's. Though the wife of a pastor, she would not be second fiddle.

Sage had given up a lot to be with Adam, and for the first few years she'd considered it worth it. Adam was attentive, attractive, and, most importantly, a fucking stud in bed. To this day, after almost eight years of marriage, he could still make her cum harder and longer than any lover, man or woman or plastic, that she'd ever had. She still masturbated to memories of their first year of marriage, when they'd screw entire days away. Adam was insatiable in those early days, and Sage, who was a veritable nymphomaniac herself, gladly gave herself up in any way he desired.

However, those days had slowly dwindled, beginning with Adam's call to serve. She'd made no protest about his dedication to a higher power; she was happy to see him fulfilled. But as his dedication to Christ had grown, his ardor for Sage had seemed to wane. Perhaps it would've happened regardless of Adam's faith, but it seemed a waste to Sage for him to only unleash his sizeable endowment every few months. Meanwhile, her sex drive seemed to only grow, and thus Sage had turned to other outlets to feed her needs.

The fence around the backyard was her idea, and it was currently serving its purpose well. Sage lay splayed out on a couch on the patio, naked as the day she was born, while one of the husbands from the congregation pumped vigorously in and out of her. He was standing, holding her legs up, pounding away at Sage's pussy while she writhed in pleasure.

Sage worked her hips up and down on Michael's cock. Her hands were on her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples. Michael's dick was coated with their shared juices; through the power of the blue pill this was their third coupling today. They were both coated in sweat and their hair was matted and sticking to their faces. It was Sage's favorite kind of fuck: a wet, sloppy, and primal screw. She was so fucking close to cumming, too. If only Michael would just set her down and drive his manhood into her instead of the porn star jackhammering he was doing now...

"Oh yeah, fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah..." he said, doing his best to imitate Charles Dera or Tommy Gunn. Michael was still in his twenties, a new addition to the church. He was in good shape, which is what had drawn Sage to him in the first place. What he lacked in grace she had hoped he would make up for in forcefulness. And he could fuck her hard. He was doing that right now; his respectable cock was churning up a froth of bodily fluids as it rammed all the way into her and almost came all the way out. Long, fast, hard strokes that looked good on camera, but ignored most of the truly sensitive parts of Sage's pussy. "Fuck yeah, baby, fuck yeah!"

Sage looked up at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing was fast and short; he was close. She reached up to try and grab his hips and bring him in line with what she needed. This was a good fuck, but it wasn't going to make her cum the way she needed to. "I wanna feel you all the way in me...fucking cum in me. Fill me up, baby. I want all of you inside me," she said. She got a grip on his thighs and was able to wrap her legs around his waist, pulling him in closer. "Ooooooooh, yes," she moaned as the change of position and pace matched what she wanted. It wouldn't take long for her to cum, if he could just keep it in for a few more minutes...

Sage squeezed and twisted around him, milking his cock and making her eyelids flutter with pleasure. "Yes, yes, yes, I'm so close, baby. Keep fucking me just like that."

"Urrruuggggh," Michael groaned; he didn't know what black magic this woman was doing with her pussy, but she gripped him like nothing he'd ever felt before. He couldn't control himself, and he emptied his load into her while cumming like he never had before. His balls seemed to squeeze themselves so hard in an attempt to blast every sperm he'd ever made into Sage that he thought they were going to burst. His knees gave out from the orgasm, and he collapsed onto the patio, his cock flopping out of her moments before Sage herself came.

As for Sage, she felt like she'd been awoken from a wonderful dream by an overhead light. She bolted upright on the couch, wanting to grab his head or a hand so that he could finish her off, but then she saw the absolute insensible state she'd left the man in.

Michael was a puddle on the patio concrete; he looked nearly catatonic. Sage sighed, realizing that she was back to square one. At least the sight of such a manly man reduced to ruin by fucking her was satisfying. She half smiled at him and kept back a chuckle. The sex was good, but part of the reason she did this was that she enjoyed using, abusing, and leaving a man deflated. Only Adam had been able to keep up with her; none of the other men that Sage had taken into her bed had been able to keep up with her.

She stood from the couch. Semen and her own fluids leaked out of her and mixed with their sweat on her thighs. A slight breeze kicked up, stiffening her nipples and clit. Sage loved that sensation; she loved being bare to the world. Whereas most of the women she knew would be ashamed of their nakedness, Sage felt powerful. That was really what all of this was about: power.

Sage looked down at Michael, still recovering, and tossed him a towel from the nearby table. "That was nice. There's a shower in the guest bathroom. Use that to clean yourself up, then leave." She wrapped herself in another towel and headed inside.

Moments later, she was in her master bathroom, letting the water of her shower heat up, thinking about her next move. Michael was her third tryst outside of marriage, and she decided that he'd served his purpose. The first few times they'd fucked had been fun and new, but Sage figured he had begun to reach his limits. He could fuck like a porn star, but so did most of the men she could seduce. Like many of the men in the South, his only ideas for how to fuck came from the Bible and porn. She needed more than that. He wouldn't even let her lick his ass, much less to the same for her.

Sage stepped into the shower and began to lather her body. She was still running a little hot, and so as one hand rinsed soap from her body, the other toyed with her clit and lips. It didn't take long for her to slide down the shower wall, one hand working frantically in and out of her pussy while the other gripped her neck. She scooted her butt so that the water from the shower head landed against her clit, and visions of a particularly rough fuck with Adam filled her head.

It had been a Sunday afternoon. They'd been at the church all day, first with service and then for most of the afternoon for the annual yard sale. Sage had woken up particularly riled that day, and she'd teased him relentlessly while getting ready for service. Adam permitted no hanky panky on church grounds, but she'd made sure that between discrete stares and whispers she'd sent him to the pulpit rock hard. She'd continued her teasing into the yard sale, taking opportunities between helping church grannies to beg her husband to fuck her silly. She'd come up behind him while he was talking to the deacons, wrapped herself around his arm, and pulled him to the side, just so that she could whisper in his ear that she'd soaked through her panties.

When they'd finally arrived home, Sage found herself pinned to the inside of the front door, her dress ripped to pieces and her husband digging furrows into her ass while his cock seemed to be trying to saw her in half. Sage could do nothing but moan; Adam was big enough that he couldn't fully fit inside of her, and she loved the feeling of being filled by him. He leaned forward, nipping her ear and whispering, "How dare you tease me like that in front of everyone. I'm going to teach you how to control yourself; I married a grown woman not some childish slut."

He didn't fuck her fast the way that Michael had. He fucked her with powerful, confident strokes, keeping up a steady rhythm that let her feel every inch of him throughout every inch of her. His hands mauled her ass, her clit, her breasts, and every other part of her that he could reach. His tongue danced along the back of her neck and spine, and he'd regularly sink his teeth into her to add a spice of pain to the pleasure she felt.

For her part, Sage pushed against the door, driving herself back down into the cock impaling her. She bounced her ass off Adam's stomach and squeezed her thighs together to almost form a vacuum seal around his dick. "Please f-f-uck meeeeeeee," she whimpered. She squealed when he smacked her ass.

"Please fuck me, what?" he said.

"Please fuuuuu-uuuuu-ck me, sir," she said. He grabbed her arms and pulled her back, picking up his pace as he did so. "Fuck yeah, yes, yes, y-y-y-yes." He bit down on her neck, biting so hard she was sure he was going to draw blood. Her nipples hardened as her breasts bounced, and his cock filled her completely. Adam fucked her like this for long minutes, the only sound in the hallway their frantic breathing, Sage's moans, and his growls of pleasure.

He was getting close; Sage could feel his cock begin to swell. "I'm gonna fuck a baby into you," Adam said. He abruptly let go of her arms, grabbing her waist and pulling her down to the ground. Sage, wrapped in pleasure as she was, still noticed how he stuck his arm out to break their fall and make sure that they didn't land too hard.

"Yes, sir, please take care of me," she moaned, pushing up onto all fours. Adam fucked her doggy, his large hands gripping her hips. "Please fuck your baby into me; I want it all...I'm yours, daddy. I belong to you, sir."

Adam's cock continued to swell, and so did Sage's coming orgasm. They were going to cum together; she was going to cum hard like only he could make her cum...

The shower door, opened, and Michael stepped in. "Oh yeah, babe, if you wanted more you just needed to tell me."

Sage opened her eyes as she felt hands cup her face, and she was face to face with Michael's deflated cock. She was almost too shocked to say anything. Her orgasm was ruined once more as he tried to angle his dick into her mouth.

"The fuck are you doing?" she spat, pushing his arms away and standing up in the shower. She shoved him out, slamming the shower door behind him. "You do not ever come up to a woman and shove your cock into her face; do you understand me?"

Michael was bewildered and sputtering. Sage honestly couldn't blame him; she had seduced him, after all, and after the past two hours of fucking he probably felt like he had a bit of leeway. However, she was in charge here, and he needed to understand how this arrangement worked. She glared at him through the glass.

"If I wanted more, you would have been told to fuck me again. If I wanted you in this shower, I would have told you. Instead, what I said was to shower in the guest bathroom, get dressed, and leave. Which you will do, now."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he was silenced by the authority that exuded from Sage. He closed it, sighed, and then said, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Phillips. I misunderstood the situation."

Sage softened her expression slightly. "Thank you for the apology, Michael. I understand that you don't do this often, and you probably won't again, but just so you know, the person who does the initiating makes the rules. That's me in this situation."

Michael nodded. "I'll go shower and get dressed then. Again, I'm sorry."

"Good. You'll need to hurry. The neighbors are all on vacation, but Emma comes by every afternoon to let the Thompson's dogs out, and it wouldn't do for her to see you."

The Phillips house was neighbored by two families. Of the two, Sage and Adam were on the friendliest terms with the Thompsons, who were members of their congregation. The Thompsons had taken their two boys and left for the Flori-Bama shore several days ago. Whenever they left town, they hired another member of the congregation, Emma Every, to let their dogs out and keep an eye on the place. She was a sweet, kind girl, and Sage doubted that she'd think anything untoward if she saw Michael at her pastor's house alone with the pastor's wife, but young girls had loose lips, and Sage wasn't going to risk her saying anything to someone with a more inquiring mind.

Michael showered quickly, and Sage was waiting for him by the door. He stopped, obviously unsure if he was supposed to kiss her goodbye or not. In that moment Sage felt a tinge of guilt. He was a blue collar boy who she'd seduced away from his lovely wife for her own selfish desires. It was unfair of her to put him in this position.

That tinge lasted for only a few seconds though, and Sage squashed it mercilessly. In the wild, kind lions were hungry lions. However nice Michael and his wife, Jenny, were, Sage's needs came first for Sage.

"This won't happen again. It was fun, and I enjoy your company, but the longer these arrangements last the more likely it is that things will go sour. I'm sure that I can trust your discretion?" She arched an eyebrow at him, leveraging her bright blue eyes and the effect they had on men to her advantage.

Michael nodded. "I won't say anything; Jenny has no idea and no one else will either. I guess I'll see you at church?"

It was morbidly funny. Sage kissed his cheek and grabbed his chin with her hand. "I'll see you at church, Michael. Make sure you and Jenny have something for the potluck this week. Please don't bring green bean casserole. We'll have plenty of that. See if she'll make some of those cookies like she made for the Christmas party."

"I will. She hates to bake but Lord, she's good at it."

"She really is. Now get out of my house."

Michael left, pulling his truck out of the driveway and out of the cul-de-sac. Thoroughly out of the mood after having her orgasm ruined twice, Sage fixed herself an afternoon snack of grapes and cheese. She checked the clock; it was nearly five. In fact, it was close enough to five that she decided to have a glass of wine. She poured herself a generous glass of a nice white wine and returned to the patio to lounge the rest of the day away.

She was nearing the bottom of the glass and feeling its effects when she heard a car pull up and stop in her neighbor's driveway. It must be Emma, coming to take out the dogs. Sage was about to not spare it a second thought and return to her book, but she heard two doors open and close, followed by teenage giggling.

This was new. Previously Emma had always come alone. The wine and the simmering heat in her loins perked Sage up, and she decided to investigate.

Sage made her way to the fence, and stood on her tiptoes, just barely able to see over the fence and into the driveway and garage of the Thompsons. That was certainly Emma. But that was certainly not Emma's Sonata. And the boy whose tongue was down her throat was completely unknown to Sage.

Sage smirked to herself. Ask anyone in the congregation, and they would've described Emma as the perfect girl next door. Frankly, Sage couldn't stand good girls, and it was gratifying to see that Emma wasn't afraid to live a little.

They were standing just inside the garage, vigorously making out. Sage pulled herself up a little higher to get a better view.

Emma was a tall, leggy blonde. She was eighteen, freshly graduated from high school and headed to Rhodes in the fall. Her blonde hair had just a hint of curl to it and hung down almost to her butt. Like Sage, she was an athlete; tall and broad, Emma was an absolute terror on the volleyball court. But she was also very pretty; she was a tan, blonde, green-eyed girl with a fantastic set of tits, and ass and thighs that made you salivate. All of this was on display, as well. Emma wore a too-small t-shirt that bared her stomach, with a pair of denim shorts that struggled to contain her thighs and ass. Whoever her Casanova was, was very lucky.

They pulled themselves apart, both giggling like young lovers do. Now that Sage got a better view of him, the boy was nothing special. He was tall, yes, and he wasn't unattractive, but he had the bushy, unkempt hair and outfit of a young man who hasn't quite learned how to take care of himself yet. Poor boy; if this lasted longer than the summer, he was bound to get his heart broken when Emma learned how high her standards should be and dumped him for greener pastures.

They entered the house, and a short moment later, Sage heard the dogs barking and playing in the backyard. She also heard the door shut, and logic and her imagination did the rest.

The show was over for the time being, and Sage returned to her wine. She finished the glass off, poured another sizeable serving, and walked into her living room. Through the window, she watched the Thompson's house. She sipped her wine, alternating between watching the house and the clock. The wine was beginning to take effect, and as the minutes whittled by, a plan began to form in Sage's mind.