tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe New Parishioner

The New Parishioner


Melissa Morgan's female intuition sensed something about this new parishioner, a huge muscular black man named Reggie Johnson, which made her very uneasy. Her husband, Bill, failed to notice Reggie make his way beside her, all the way from across the chapel, during church services.

All houses of worship seemed to carry in their air that same musty smell Reggie found disheartening since his earliest childhood, of old prayer books and Bibles. His eyes beheld the large cross suspended from the ceiling above the preacher.

A few months earlier Reggie had left a drug dealing operation located in a distant city and moved to this small rural community. The heat had come too close. He needed to hang low for a while and remain inconspicuous after the arrest of his associates.

For Reggie, grueling Sunday service was worse than Hell — and it was here on Earth. His stare lustfully wandered to the delicious curves of Melissa's young, slender figure beneath fine Sunday garments. Here was a worthier object of contemplation making the malarkey spewing from Reverend Doyle's mouth and that boring book he read tolerable.

Melissa's dress revealed a bosom that filled it nicely, not excessively; a narrow waist; a thin, athletic hourglass figure; and a tight, heart shaped ass.

Reggie noticed Melissa accompany her husband to church every Sunday. Her face was an elixir of flaxen hair that descended past her shoulders in gentle waves; steely blue eyes, their color taken from heaven; a cute, round nose; a petite mouth with full lips; light, unblemished skin.

It had been a while since Reggie tapped a nice white pussy. The Light of Christ Church seemed like the place to find some in this small community. Reggie enjoyed cultivating a taste for black cock in supercilious white women.

Services concluded and everyone wished their neighbors peace. "I love you so much," Melissa whispered in her husband's ear. After a big embrace, Bill and Melissa turned away from one another — she jauntily toward Reggie.

"Peace be with you," Melissa said looking up into Reggie's dark eyes. This gigantic muscular black man towered over her and Bill and again gave Melissa a strange vibe.

"Peace," Reggie replied. He noticed Melissa's slight hesitancy to shake hands, her diamond engagement ring and wedding band giving him brief glimpses of rainbows in their sparkle.

Blood rushed to Reggie's penis when he took Melissa's hand. As quickly as a teenage boy stealing a first kiss, he formed a very big and hard erection. Attractive young white women had that effect on him. His suit jacket helped conceal the horrific bulge in his pants Melissa caused yet failed to see. She had probably never fucked a black man before, Reggie surmised.

Perhaps by chance or iniquitous intervention, the situation began to favor Reggie's lustful desires. Reverend Doyle was not finished yet...

"Bill Morgan, Scott and Lisa Fridas, and Larry Smith, come on up here," Reverend Doyle beckoned in labored breaths, his fat, bloated gut spilling over his belt.

Melissa's husband left her side to join the other four individuals summoned by Reverend Doyle.

"Let's hear a round of applause for these good folks who have graciously volunteered to be part of our missionary group leaving for Peru next week to spread the word of our Lord, Jesus. We are going to be gone for three weeks, but all of you need to be here praying for us. Brother Tom Gavin will be on the pulpit leading services," Reverend Doyle announced.

Melissa's husband would be leaving her alone for three entire weeks. Reggie never missed an opportunity to get inside a married white woman's panties, and the good Reverend Doyle just revealed Reggie's next chance.

A smile formed on Reggie's face from the good news. Attending church was not so bad after all.

That autumn Sunday was Summer's last gasp. The church departed to an unusually mild sunlit afternoon — a joyous day bathed in amber that perfectly reflected Melissa's radiance.


Bill's luggage packed with clothes, toiletries, and most importantly, a copy of the Bible, sat by the front doorway waiting as he perched on the sofa with Melissa and read a final verse of scripture to her before his departure. Matthew 25:35 — 25:40 seemed apropos given the nature of his upcoming trip to some impoverished village in the jungles of South America:

"For I was hungered, and you gave me meat: I was thirsty, and you gave me drink: I was a stranger and you took me in..."

Melissa heard Reverend Doyle's vehicle approaching up their long driveway from the main road as Bill finished the passage. Two years ago Bill and Melissa discovered Jesus. Their involvement with the church increased and it now occupied much of their lives.

Scott Fridas and Larry Smith sallied from Reverend Doyle's SUV to help Bill load his luggage. Lisa, Scott's wife, sauntered over to Melissa, whose effulgent smile appeared dimmer than usual, as the men greeted one another and began rearranging suitcases.

"Don't worry about Bill. We'll take good care of him," Lisa said hugging Melissa. "You really should have come with us."

Reverend Doyle had invited both Bill and Melissa to join the mission to a small, poor village near Abancay in Peru, but Melissa did not want to spend three weeks battling insects in a third world country lacking civilized amenities.

"I know, but winter is coming and someone needs to keep an eye on things around the house."

Melissa's slender figure and gorgeous face had caused heads to turn since her late teens, and still caused the same reaction now in her late twenties, garnering jealousy from a number of female parishioners. Bill hugged and kissed her goodbye.

"I'll write," he said hopping into the front passenger side of the SUV beside Reverend Doyle. He hauled the heavy door closed with a thud and waved from the other side of the window as they pulled away.

Melissa watched Reverend Doyle's SUV become smaller as its distance from her grew, until only the faint red glow of its tail lights remained — brighter for a moment as it slowed to take a far-off curve, then disappearing as if swallowed by the surrounding forest.

Once at the airport several flights would bring Bill and his group to that far-away country with limited internet access. For the next several weeks, Melissa's primary method of communicating with him would be reminiscent of an earlier generation that wrote letters on paper, placed them in envelopes and sent them with stamps via Postal Service.

In waning dusk, Melissa stood staring at the empty roadway and the grey trees ascending towards aphotic clouds of a looming storm. A northerly wind caused her to shiver as the temperature precipitously dropped.

A few miles away, the new member of their church planned some missionary work of his own, serving a different master everyone in the congregation knew and avoided.


Reggie Johnson went to the same church as Melissa and Bill, but secretly held a very different belief. He worshipped female flesh and sought a host to consecrate. It seemed as if an uncanny force protected Reggie. Over the years, he had sold illegal drugs and sexually assaulted women, yet he always avoided justice.

Isolated among the barren woods of late autumn, beneath a cold, dark, starless sky, Melissa's house sat. The wind whisked away puffs of smoke from the chimney and howled of an approaching storm. Reggie lurked among the dormant, grey trees with their branches twisted like elongated arthritic fingers.

Inside the house Melissa faced the fireplace. She sat languorously balled up at the end of the sofa as snow and sleet began pelting the windows. Bill was gone. For the first time in years, she was without him and alone. She decided to find some entertaining reading on her Kindle.

The lights flickered and went dark as the storm brought down a distant power line. In this remote area, cell phone coverage was spotty. Melissa could not get a signal from inside the house.

She had firewood and decided to wait until the storm passed to go outside and call the power company. She longed for Bill to snuggle with and keep her warm and safe as she watched the flames dance in radiant yellow and orange brilliance that spilled tall, wavering shadows into the lonely room.

A frantic pounding on the door startled Melissa and interrupted her musings. The nearest neighbors miles away, she put down her Kindle to cautiously investigate.

"Who is it?" Melissa shouted from behind the door.

The incessant pummeling on the door stopped.

"I'm Reggie Johnson, your neighbor from up the road. I'm stuck out here and need help, please," a voice that sounded vaguely familiar replied.

Melissa did not recognize the name, but the passage Bill had read to her earlier — "helping a stranger in need" — spoke to her now.

A clatter from the lock turning brought a momentary smile to Reggie, but he quickly replaced it with a brooding frown when the door opened.

Melissa opened the door to an onslaught of wind and sleet and a flood of chill night air that instantly displaced the warmth inside the house and caused the flames in the fireplace to shudder. In the gloom, she did not recognize the gigantic, imposing figure standing at her doorway, "Come in."

She moved aside, guardedly allowing the dark figure to pass and hurriedly shutting the door behind him.

"The power's out," she explained, leading him with the poise of a ballet dancer from the shadowy hallway toward the warm fireplace.

In light cast by the fire, Melissa recognized the figure covered in melting snow and ice that formed puddles beneath his galoshes. It was that huge black man who greeted her in Church the other day.

He removed mitten-covered hands from the pockets of his dark blue ski jacket and appreciatively waved them above the genial flames.

The uneasy feeling Reggie had given her in church returned, but she ignored her instincts. How could she turn him away in a dangerous storm and call herself a Christian?

"What in heaven's name are you doing out on a night like this?" Melissa asked.

In silk pajamas that loosely followed the developed curves of Melissa's young, athletic body, it took every ounce of Reggie's willpower to stop his eyes from devouring her and revealing his intentions.

"I saw the storm coming and thought I better get gasoline for my generator and some firewood. When I got to town, the store had closed already. I tried to get back home but my truck slid off the road and got stuck a mile back from here," Reggie explained peeling off his wet mittens and sticking them in his jacket pocket.

Melissa thought about the inappropriateness of a strange black man staying the night while her husband was away. But in good conscience, she could not refuse Reggie lodging if the storm continued raging, and answered sympathetically, "Well you can't go out with it storming like this. You'll freeze to death. Let me take your jacket to dry before you catch cold."

She went to help him remove the backpack he was wearing so he could take off the jacket, but he stopped her.

"I've got it," Reggie said. "It's pretty heavy."

He placed the backpack on the hardwood floor leaning it against the end of the sofa.

Melissa hung his ski jacket over the back of a chair and left his galoshes by the fire to dry.

With his puffy jacket off, Melissa noticed large muscles bulging beneath Reggie's shirt. She wondered what type of strenuous physical labor he performed to make them so big.

Reggie was somewhat handsome, but she was married and not interested other men — especially black men. His strong facial structure looked like it had been sculpted in marble with smooth dark brown skin; short kinky black hair on top of his head; wet, black eyes like obsidian.

Melissa took a sip of tea she had prepared earlier, now lukewarm, and saw Reggie watching her. "I'm sorry I can't make you some with the power out. Would you like something cold to drink? Ice water perhaps?" she asked jokingly.

Reggie smirked. "Actually, I am a little thirsty, but you can hold the ice."

Melissa minced her way to the kitchen nursing the fragile flame from a candle.

When she left the room, Reggie leaned over to where his backpack sat next to the couch, silently retracted its zipper enough to slide his hand inside, and procured a vial he had brought for this special occasion. He hurriedly spiked her tea with a large dose of the clear liquid — the finest date rape formulation available.

Snow and sleet fell outside and frigid wind strained through crevices in the old, drafty structure as Melissa groped in the dimly lit cupboard for a glass. It looked increasingly likely that this black man, a practical stranger, would have to stay the night. This prospect did not sit well with her.

Reggie was zippering his backpack closed as Melissa returned with a glass of water.

"My cell phone doesn't work in the house, but as soon as it lets up, we'll go outside and call someone to come help you."

It was a tactful hint that she did not want him here any longer than necessary, and Reggie got it. "I don't think anyone will come out in this weather anyway. I'm really sorry for this inconvenience. I didn't know what else to do. Your house is the only place around for miles."

Melissa returned to the other end of the sofa and sipped from the half-full cup. The cold gave the tea a slightly different, vaguely salty flavor, she thought, smacking her lips together and finishing the soupçon remaining.

"Have you lived here long?" Melissa asked, forgetting about the bad vibe she received from Reggie and finding herself in a more talkative mood.

"About four months."

"Where are you from?"

Reggie paused a moment not wanting to reveal too much about himself and thinking about his answer. The less she knew about him the better. He lied and told her he was from Ashville.

He decided to encourage the uncharacteristic garrulousness in her that the drug induced. "How about you?"

Unusual exhilaration and a girlish silliness she had buried years ago bubbled to her surface in a drunken euphoria. She opened more to him, providing her entire life history it seemed in speech becoming increasingly slurred and less coherent.

Melissa chattered without noticing Reggie inching closer. He comfortably reclined and put his arm around her shoulders, his touch strangely redolent of her first loves, and smiled into her face as he adjusted an extremely large bulge in his pants.

Melissa saw the curved outline of his immense manhood strain against the fabric, reach above his left hip, and practically pop out the waistband of his trousers. She realized something was wrong with her. She could not think straight anymore. She tried standing and almost fell before Reggie jumped up and caught her.

"Whoa, you're in no condition to walk," Reggie said, holding Melissa against him. She was everything he sought in a woman — a beautiful face, a perfect little body and white. Something about stuck-up white women in particular made Reggie extra horny.

Tight in Reggie's arms, she tried to recoil from the hardness of his penis that she felt through his pants pushing into her tummy.

"Get hands off. Let... go," she babbled, beginning to feel slightly nauseous and very groggy.

"Are you okay? What's the matter?" An out-of-place smile appeared on Reggie's face. "You're not feeling well, baby."

She stared at him with a vacant look, like someone heavily drugged and on an intense trip.

"I better get you in bed; you may have the flu or something."

Reggie sat Melissa on the sofa and with the candle she had used earlier, searched her house, finding her cellphone, its charger and a set of keys on the kitchen table. In another room, he found her computer and removed its power cord.

He returned to the living room with Melissa's phone and keys in his pockets, the phone charger and computer power cord in his hand. Melissa was gone and the front door left open as an invitation for cold, wind and sleet.

Reggie grabbed a flashlight from his backpack. The darkness seemed to swallow him as he left the house and went into the frigid night to find her.

He discovered Melissa slumped over the hood of her locked car. Her keys, along with her cellphone, were safely in his pockets.

Snow covered Melissa. Wearing only her pajamas, she was soaked and freezing.


Atop Melissa's chiffonier a solitary candle glimmered, her somber bedroom filled with shadows and chill. Behind purple lips, her teeth chattered as she shivered in Reggie's arms. The potent drug attenuated what would have been her violent kicks, strikes, and desperate squirms.

Reggie plopped her into bed, his immense cock hard and aching to bore into her tight cunt and soothe itself. First, he needed to treat Melissa's hypothermia.

"We've got to get these wet pajamas off you right away."

Reggie started unbuttoning her top. Several buttons flew off the garment in his haste to remove it. Melissa's fingers unsuccessfully fought to keep it fastened. Her gorgeous breasts and tight stomach appeared as Reggie ultimately succeeded in undoing the piece.

"No, leave alone," she slurred, clutching the open, wet garment to her chest as he sat her up and and it dangled open.

He grappled it from her. Off Melissa's shoulders and down her arms the pajama top finally came with several hard tugs, Reggie tossing it from the bed. Her arm tremulously crossed over her chest concealing her nipples that had hardened from the cold.

Reggie shoved her down. His fingers slid inside the waistbands of her pajama bottoms and panties and bunched them in his fists. He yanked fiercely. The sodden silk garments jerked from her hips came down her legs, and reunited with her top somewhere on the floor. Melissa lay naked on her back beneath him, arm covering her breasts, hand over her vagina, and shivers so severe the entire bed trembled.

Reggie managed to undress himself while straddling Melissa, her body writhing beneath him.

A glimpse in the shadows left Melissa doubting her own eyes. His penis could not really be that large.

"This will get you warm." He grabbed her wrists and wrestled them above her head while resting his naked, muscular body on top of Melissa, sinking her into the mattress.

"Get off," Melissa groaned through clenched teeth. Her hands escaped his clutch and ineffectively pushed at his sides while her nipples poked into his chest.

The sensation of his monstrous penis pressing against her, its warmth and hardness reaching above her belly button, confirmed what she saw in the shadows.

Melissa's body thawed from Reggie's warmth. The powerful drug calmed her and allowed her to drowse as he stroked her soft, flowing hair.

The fragrance of lavender shampoo she had used earlier entered his nostrils. He nibbled up her neck inhaling the pleasant aroma and her nipples perked into him more. "That's it baby, let me keep you warm," Reggie whispered.

The flames in the living room fireplace died and the temperature throughout the house dropped. He licked his fingers and reached between her legs.

As the candle in her room dimmed, Melissa's consciousness followed a similar course drifting toward delirium. For brief intervals she hallucinated in the darkness. Reggie became Bill, they shared tender moments and she stopped resisting. Reggie established footholds, extended boundaries, secured concessions, seized additional territory from her.

"Ooh, Bill, please," Melissa whimpered as Reggie culled her clitoris from her soft, silky folds and petted her tiny, pink friend — awakening it from dormancy into swollen arousal. Minutes later, realizing he was not Bill, she protested, "No, stop it!" Her fingers dug into Reggie's wrist and tried unsuccessfully to pull his hand away from her vagina.

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bythecryptkeeper© 61 comments/ 313245 views/ 416 favorites

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