The Preacher's Son

Gemma Blackwell

Collector of Pleasure

I have been called a witch, a lover, a thief, a goddess and a demon. A whore, a healer. And once, I was even called a murderer. Only some of these things are true.

Before we start, here's a definitely true thing about me: I'm a time traveller.

The Preacher's Son

Small town in Alabama, 1961

There is no one quite as lovely as a preacher's son. No one quite as hungry for the forbidden either.

I stepped out from an alley onto a street. Harry's Hardware on my right, a drugstore on my left, and the midday sun high above me. The thick southern air clung to my skin, sweat beading at my temples. Across the street, a group of women entered a small Baptist church.

I looked down to find a plate of cookies in my hand. Interesting. I was wearing a flowy, light blue dress cinched at the waist by a belt made of the same fabric as the dress. I brought a hand up to my hair-pulled back into a bun. It's always fun to find out what kind of person you're to be playing.

Apparently, I was a cookie baking, church going, proper young lady in the deep south.

I licked my lips. Red lipstick. I smiled. Not so proper after all. And yes, I can tell what color lipstick I'm wearing by the way it tastes and feels on my lips and tongue.

I might be a witch after all.

I figured it was safe to assume the church was my destination. As I stepped down from the sidewalk onto the street, a breeze picked up, twirling around me, just long enough for my dress to billow up and show a hint of thigh. And oh!... just strong enough for me to realize I wasn't wearing any panties. I quickened my pace, eager to find whoever was waiting for me.

Inside the church, two large fans hung from the ceiling spinning their blades with enough force to move the air around, but never quite managing to make it any cooler. A group of women gathered by the altar, their voices high pitched with excitement.

"I hear the new preacher's quite handsome, and a widower," someone said from behind me. And then its owner fell into step with me.

She widened her big brown eyes and pressed her lips together, like she hadn't meant to say it outloud. Her eyes took me in, suddenly unsure of many things. She was a young thing. Pretty.

And probably wearing panties.

With a wink, I offered a small conspiratorial smile, and just like that, her relief was instant. Obviously, we were, at the very least, long acquaintances of sorts; and of course I wouldn't share her indiscretion.

Perhaps, I am a demon instead of a witch.

As I neared the front of the church, the preacher finally came into view. Wholesome was the word that came to mind. Mid fifties, classically handsome, dressed in a button down shirt, and clean shaven. His black hair showing hints of grey, and eyes that could warm a whole congregation.

The women around him began to part as I closed in. The preacher's eyes met mine, and a smile sweet as honey parted his lips. I put out my hand. "Gemma Blackwell. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He took my hand with both of his, a very preacher like gesture, and with a southern drawl as thick as molasses he said, "Charles Harrison, and the pleasure is all mine, Miss Blackwell." Then, with a quick nod he added, "That's my son, Richard," before his attention was quickly pulled away by a woman who nearly yanked his hands away from mine.

My! These vultures were hungry for some preacher cock.

Richard- a younger version of his father, a sexier one, too- stood just off to the side of the altar. When I smiled at him, he blushed.

An invitation.

I slipped through the crowd, and as I left the circle, there seemed to be a collective sigh of relief. So soft and hushed, I don't think any of the women even knew they had been weary of my presence.

Richard shifted on his feet, but his gaze was steady. And on me. I let my tongue peek out and licked my lips, not suggestive like-okay, maybe a little. Just enough that his gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered there for a moment too long.

He was most definitely why I was in that church in the middle of nowhere Alabama.

Just a few inches taller than me, he had wide shoulders, thick arms. All corded muscles straining against his shirt. Tanned, smooth skin that just begged to be touched. And a wildness in his blue eyes. A hunger. His lips were full, and I was already imagining taking his mouth.

I remembered I wasn't wearing panties, and the thought of Richard slipping his hand under my dress, all the way up between my legs, sent a jolt of desire through me.

No, no. Not yet.

"Richard," I said, trying out his name.

"Miss Blackwell?" His voice was deliciously husky and low.

I stepped closer- he smelled faintly of cloves. Nudging the plate of cookies at him, I said, "Be a darling and help me find a place for these."

As he took the plate from me, his gaze dropped to my chest. The cut of my dress was low enough, and tight enough to show off my breasts. He blushed again and quickly averted his eyes. "We set up some refreshments downstairs."

"Lead the way, then."

I followed the preacher's son through a door at the back of the church, and down a flight of stairs.

Walking behind him, my eyes trailed the shape of him. From his wide shoulders down to his ass which filled his trousers nicely. This boy was a bull under all that fabric, and my pussy was getting wet, just dying to ride him.

"Tell me, Richard," I said as he set the cookies next to a pitcher of sweet tea. "What else do you do besides being a preacher's son?"

He turned to face me, appraising eyes taking me in. "I worked on a farm before we moved here. I reckon I'll find the same kind of work again."

Well, that certainly explained the hard body. "How about your Momma?"

"She's been gone to Heaven with the Lord since I was ten," he said, almost in a whisper, his voice softening.

I tsked, and with a playful tone I said, "Two handsome men, all alone without the touch of a woman. Break any hearts back home by moving away?"

A shy smile pulled at his lips, and he looked down at his feet. "No Ma'am."

"I find that hard to believe, how old are you?"

"Nineteen." He glanced up at me through thick lashes, and I saw the truth then.

I leaned in, and whispered, "Have you ever been with a girl, Richard?"

He swallowed, then shook his head, his face flushing with embarrassment, my own flushing with excitement.

Oh this was going to be delicious.

I placed my hand on his chest and he inhaled sharply. Feeling his heart quicken under my touch, I held his gaze and slowly moved in closer. He licked his lips in anticipation, but I stopped just a breath away. His sweet, musky scent filled me with want, but I could hear the rest of the women heading downstairs. I needed more time than we had, and I was going to make sure I would get it.

I slid one hand behind his neck and licked his bottom lip. He shuddered with a mix of pleasure, awe, and fear, but grabbed me by the hips. His hands were wide and strong. He dug his fingers into me. I let a small moan escape as I brought my lips to his, teasing them with my tongue until they parted and let me in.

I pushed my breasts against him, pressed my hips against his, and feeling the bulge of his hard cock against me, I moaned again.

I wanted his fingers inside of me, and his tongue working my clit, and his hard cock, pounding into me. I needed him to fuck me until I screamed with pleasure. I wanted young pleasure and sweet cum.

"I'm going to need your help Richard," I whispered. He nodded, his breath coming in short bursts. I stepped away from him, smiling at the savage look in his eyes.

The room quickly filled with bodies, and I slowly made my way around. Smiling and nodding at the incessant chatting thrown at me, but making sure that Richard knew my attention was still on him. His was surely on me, his eyes never leaving me as I made my way to where his father stood.

I put my hand on the preacher's arm, pulling his attention to me, and I gave him a weak smile.

"Miss Blackwell, are you alright?" he asked, frowning.

"I'm afraid, I'm not well." I fanned myself, fluttering my eyes. "I was wondering, if you'd be so kind as to have Richard drive me home? I'm afraid I won't make it in this heat."

"Richard," the preacher called out, and Richard visibly tensed. He walked across the long room, trying to look anywhere else but me, but his eyes betrayed him and kept dancing towards me. "Son, please make sure Miss Blackwell gets home safely."

If anyone had been paying attention, they would have noticed just how charged the air was between us, but what most of the women were feeling was a surprising sense of relief, though they couldn't quite put their finger on why exactly as they patted my hand and wished me well.

Smiling, I slipped my arm through Richard's. Taking in the feel of his strong arm, the heat coming off his skin, I could feel the yearning vibrating off of him. He didn't speak as we walked out of the church, or as we walked through the parking lot, or as he opened the door of his truck for me. As I settled on the seat, I watched him walk around the front of the truck. God he was a delicious specimen. All muscles and youth and need.

It was stifling hot inside truck, and I imagined sitting on his lap, and him pulling my dress over my head so that the sun could see me in all my nakedness. I always loved a good fuck in the car, the awkwardness of never enough space. The urgency of finishing before getting caught. I was always game for the challenge.

When he settled on the driver's seat, he turned to face me. Hooded eyes full of lust dropped to my mouth, and his face turned a shade of pink. "Where to?"

"Your place."

Surprise molded his features, quickly followed by worry as he glanced past me, back at the church. I placed my hand on his thigh. His eyes shot back to me. I gave him my best flirtatious smile. "Don't worry, they'll be a while," I said, as I let my hand slip between his thick thighs. He hardened under my touch, and low growl rumbled in his throat as his cock strained against the zipper of his pants.

God, he was so large, it made my pussy throb with want just thinking about how good it'd feel to have him inside of me. I rubbed him up and down once. Twice. Then pulled my hand away.

FIxing his gaze on the road ahead, he started the truck.

The ride was quick, but when the truck stopped, it wasn't in front of a house. It was a motel. I raised an eyebrow, wondering if I had underestimated him.

He blushed. "Sorry. It's temporary. The house still needs some work."

I smiled. What can I say, motels have always been a favorite of mine.

We got out of the truck, and I could tell he was nervous, eyes skittering all around the parking lot, afraid of being seen. He pulled a set of keys out from his pocket and fumbled with them as he tried to unlock the door.

When he finally got it and we hurried in, his shoulders dropped in relief. I pressed my lips together to hide my amusement. Richard quickly locked the door, then fidgeted with the curtains on the window even though they were already pulled closed.

"Relax, Richard." I took his hands and placed them on the small of my back, then pressed myself into him. My hands slid up his thick arms, then across his chest. I fisted my hands into his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. His lips parted for me. "Have you ever done this before, Richard?" I asked. He shook his head. I kissed him deeper. He tasted like vanilla, he smelled like cloves and the two mixed together sent a rush of heat through me. I felt my nipples harden against the fabric of my dress.

Richard's mouth was hungry and wanting as we tasted each other. He moved one of his hands up to my neck, his fingers digging into me a little too hard. I liked it. I wanted more. I bit his lip, then pulled away.

I wanted to see him, and for him to see me. I reached behind me and began unzipping my dress. When it fell to the ground, he gasped at the sight of my naked body.

He watched as I worked at removing the pins holding my hair up, his eyes roaming over the swell of my breasts and my hard nipples, my navel, my hips, back up to my breasts. I wanted his mouth sucking on my nipples, nipping and tugging until it hurt. Oh god, I was going to ravage this boy.

Once I shook my hair loose, I made my way back to him and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. Then his zipper. He wiggled out of his shirt and pants. I slipped my hand inside his boxers, and wrapped my hand around his thick, hard cock.

His eyes fluttered and a moan roared in his chest as I stroked him. There was a part of me that wanted to take this really slow. Take our time learning each other's bodies. But we didn't have all the time in the world, and besides I needed his pleasure.

I lowered myself in front of him. My lips brushed against the head of his cock, I looked up at him and licked my lips. His eyes widened, and he bit his bottom lip. He was nervous and turned on as fuck.

I licked him, slowly. He stiffened even more in my hand, and his whole body trembled with pleasure and anticipation and a little bit of fear, and it was all so glorious.

I took him inside my mouth. All of him, deep into my throat. He gasp. His hand went to the back of my head, and he entwined his fingers in my hair,

"Fuck my mouth, Richard," I commanded.

"Oh Jesus," he groaned as his fingers tightened his hold on me. He pushed himself inside my mouth and I relaxed my jaw to let him in. To let him fuck my throat until my mouth and chin were coated in that delicious thick spit that only comes from deep throating. I pulled his cock out of my mouth and rubbed my spit all over it. He groaned with pleasure.

When I stood back up, his eyes sparkled with lust. He grabbed me by the hips and kissed me. Hard. His hands explored my body, wanting to feel every inch of me. His touch rough, just the way I prefered.

His youth was intoxicating. I raked my fingers up and down his back, loving the feel of his muscles. His hands travelled down to my ass, and I moaned, pressing myself into his hardness.

"Come here," I said as his lips nibbled at my neck, and I pulled him onto one of the two beds, hoping it was the preacher's.

The mattress creaked under our weight as I lay on my back. He settled on his side, next to me, taking me in with his eyes. "You're so beautiful," he said. His hand found my breasts. He rubbed a finger around my nipple. He pinched it, sending a jolt of pleasure through me and I bit his lip in response. A low moan vibrated in the back of his throat, and his hand began to trail down my stomach, slowly, his fingers brushing my skin to gently, it send shivers through me.

The anticipation was driving me crazy, and when his hand finally found its way between my legs I gasped at the pleasure and my own wetness. His fingers slid over my clit, and I pressed myself into his hand.

He thrust a finger inside of me and I opened myself up to him, then reached down, guiding another one of his fingers in, then began rocking against his hand. Catching on, he began to thrust his fingers in and out. In and out. His mouth found his way back to my nipple and he sucked on it. I arched my back, aching with need, completely lost in his touch.

But I wanted more. "I want to feel your cock inside of me," I said.

He looked at me with the uncertainty of someone who had never done this before, but with so much lust and hunger, he was ready to tear into me. And god, did I want it.

I pulled him on top of me, spreading my legs for him. I felt so small under him. I pulled my knees up and out, widening my hips. He grazed his cock against my clit and I whimpered as he teased me.

"I want you now," I said, and he thrust himself inside of me. I cried out, and our mouths joined again. We moved slowly at first, allowing our bodies to meld into each other. He felt so hot inside of me, so hard that I dug my nails into his back, and he understood. I needed more.

He placed one hand on the bed on each side of me, stretched his arms and lifted his weight off of me. I grabbed his hips and shifted mine up as he pushed deeper into me.

"Harder," I said.

He placed his hands on my knees and pushed me down against the mattress, lifting my ass up just enough so that the pressure of his pounding set me on fire. He quickened his movements, pounding into me. Again and again and again. The bed creaked under us, the headboard slammed against the wall with each thrust, and I screamed with pleasure as he fucked me, not caring if the whole town could hear us.

"Jesus," he said, placing a hand over my mouth, wanting to drown out my screams of pleasure. But this only made it better for me, and he must have seen it in my eyes because that's when the preacher's son began to fuck me for real. Holding me down, fuckign me harder.

The tension built and built until my whole body was on fire. His cock rubbing just the right spot inside me, until I couldn't take it anymore. I tightened around him, my cries of pleasure muffled into his hand as the orgasm worked through me.

A devilish grin parted his lips as he drove his cock deep inside of me with a animalist moan, his whole body shuddering as he released himself inside of me.

Panting and sweaty, he collapsed onto the bed next to me. We stared at the ceiling, catching our breath.

"Ms. Blackwell," he whispered, his voice trembling. "My Momma had warned me about women like yourself. She said you were the devil in disguise." He laughed, but when he spoke again, it was with gravity and guilt. "I think she might have been right."

I smiled. It wasn't the first time I had been called a devil.