2 comments/ 35693 views/ 14 favorites Sunday Best Ch. 01 By: RPF69 Chapter One My name is Laura Fellatio and I really need to talk to someone about something that happened to me last Sunday. Well, that's not really my name, of course. I've changed one or two details so that no one I know would recognise me for reasons that will soon become all too clear. My thirty nine years on God's green Earth have blessed me with two wonderful teenaged children, a can-do attitude and the sort of curvaceous, full, hour-glass figure that I know turns a lot of men's heads. Sunday means church for me and, like most of the ladies in our congregation, I like to put on my Sunday Best to make the occasion something special. Last Sunday this meant having my long, red hair done on Saturday, full make up, a pretty summer frock and high, strappy shoes. And, underneath it all I wore an expensive, matching ivory silk and lace bra, garter belt and panties and, of course, dark tan fully fashioned stockings. As you might have guessed by now, I'm one of the stalwarts of our little flock, always ready to pitch in. Mostly this involves prayer and pastoral visits so it was no surprise to me when the minister came up to me after the morning family service and asked if I could pay a pastoral visit to a new member. And it was no surprise to my husband when I told him that he should get lunch for him and the kids and expect to see me when he saw me. So, twenty minutes later I was parking my car at the address the minister had given me: 69 Rodeo Drive. A nice looking house in a nice looking area, with a new European sports car parked on the drive. I took just a minute to check my make-up and finger-comb my lustrous red hair in the vanity mirror behind the sun visor. I dabbed a dash of scent on my pulse points, opened the car door and swung my shapely legs out onto the street. Steeling myself to deal with whatever might come, I smoothed down my dress, marched up to the front door and rang the bell. The door was opened by a tall young man of about twenty five. He wasn't exactly dressed for church, but I couldn't really complain: his tight jeans and crisp white T-shirt did show off his fine physique to excellent effect. I strongly believe that it doesn't hurt to dress pleasingly, and he did look very pleasant to me. His smiling blue eyes ran appraisingly from my head to my feet and back again, causing my cheeks to redden just a touch. "Yes?" He asked in a friendly tone. "What can I do for such a beautiful woman on this fine morning?" His sexy English accent nearly had my knees buckling. "Dick Rockhardt?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady and my door-stepping smile plastered in place. "I'm Mrs Laura Fellatio," I held out my hand. He frowned, my name obviously meaning nothing to him. "From the First Avenue church?" "Oh!" he exclaimed, recognition dawning. "Great! I thought I recognised you!" he reached out and shook my hand in a strong, dry masculine handshake. "I wasn't expecting.... I mean, thanks for coming round so quickly. You'd better come in." He led me inside and through to the lounge. Although everything was immaculate, it was clear from the décor that no woman lived here. "Take a seat, Mrs..." he began gesturing to a pair of large, leather couches. "Call me Laura," I interrupted with a laugh. He nodded and smiled as I settled myself on the nearest couch and began to straighten the hem of my dress, pulling it towards my knees. It was a bit short for sitting on such a low couch and had ridden up quite a lot on my thighs when I had sat down. "Laura... Fine," he smiled, watching me intently as I settled myself. "Can I get you something to drink?" "Maybe later," I replied, setting my clutch bag down beside my feet. "Unless you want...?" "No, no, that's fine," he responded, although the fact that he was still standing suggested he was a bit nervous about something. I decided I needed to put him at his ease. "Suppose you sit down and tell me why you asked for a pastoral visit?" I smiled, patting the couch beside me. Getting someone to sit next to you always creates a more intimate atmosphere, helps them to open up. And people, especially men, always respond to my smile. He nodded and sat down, his hip and knee brushing casually and tantalisingly against my own. "You're new to the church, aren't you? The area, too?" "That I am," he nodded. He was close enough for me to smell his uniquely masculine musk, and it was starting to make me feel a little heady, like I could cast caution to the wind. "So, Dick, what can I do for you?" I repeated. "Well," he equivocated. "It's a bit embarrassing. I'm not sure if I should..." "Don't worry. I'm not exactly inexperienced, I'm used to all sorts..." I gave him a gentle, reassuring pat on the knee. "OK, if you're sure?" I nodded and smiled broadly. "I've been coming to your church for the last few weeks.... I'm really enjoying it. Really, really enjoying it." "Good," I reassured him. "And I love the special effort that you and some of the other ladies make..." "Thank you, we try," I replied, thinking he meant the flowers, the coffee bar, the singing group. "But that's really my problem. I mean, you ladies, you. And a few of the other ladies. You always look so.... "Yes?" I frowned, unsure where this was going. "So hot...." I couldn't conceal my surprise. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. "Sexy," he qualified, in case I had been in any doubt. A hot flush blew over me. I was suddenly aware that a hint of the reinforced band at the top of one my stockings was showing and also aware of how close together we were sitting. "And that's the problem, really, Laura. I want to keep coming, but for the last few Sundays I've had a raging hard-on all through the service and all afternoon, and the only way I can get it to go away is to..." "Masturbation is a sin!" I chided him. I blushed at my own words and dropped my eyes to his lap. Heavens! He wasn't kidding about the hard-on! His jeans were bulging preposterously – I imagined it must have been quite painful. "Yeah. But I can't exactly keep spending my Sundays with an erection like the Eifel Tower either." "Want we need to do, Dick," I declared, taking charge in the way that the whole congregation always valued so much. "Is find a way to solve your little... umm... quite big problem. We'll start, as we always should, with prayer." I paused and licked my lips. The next words were out before I even realised I was saying them. "So if you could drop your pants?" "You what?" Dick laughed openly. I was a bit taken aback. "Oh... um... Round these parts we always lay on hands when we pray," I explained, recovering quickly, but still blushing. The words had come out on autopilot. We did indeed always pray in that way, but in this instance, maybe it wasn't such a good idea? "Well, if that's the way it's done round her...?" "Well, at my age, it isn't anything I haven't already seen." I tried to laugh it off and rally my self-confidence. "OK," he shrugged and stood. I could scarcely believe my eyes as his fingers quickly sped through his fly buttons and then dropped jeans and shorts in one smooth action. Dick's member sprung up, instantly at attention now it was freed of its constraints. He was well named. It was long, broad and velvety, with just the shortest thatch of well-trimmed hair where it merged into his balls and abdomen. Dick sat once again beside me, the impact of him landing on the sofa causing my hemline to bounce up yet further, a suspender strap and a tiny patch of bare thigh now coming into view. I elected to ignore them for now as clearly I had bigger things to deal with. "It's like this for hours, every Sunday," Dick explained once again, indicating his twitching manhood. If true, I could understand how that could be a problem. I blew on the tips of my fingers, turned slightly towards him in order to use both hands in my ministry and, trying to still my racing heart, reached out towards his magnificent cock. "Dear Lord," I began, curling my left hand around his shaft, and cupping my right around his balls. His organs twitched and trembled excitedly beneath my palms and he his breaths had begun to come in pants. Sweat beaded on his brow. Maybe the Spirit was moving in him already? "We thank you for the gift of sexuality, and for the pleasures and passions it blesses us with." Dick was watching me intently, his attention torn, his eyes darting between my hands on his crotch, my stocking-clad thighs and the words spilling from my ruby-red lips. "Show mercy on our brother, Dick. Ease his affliction, bring him relief from his discomfort and sew the seed..." "Oh!" I exclaimed, interrupting my prayer. Dick's gasps had suddenly turned to groans as I had been speaking, and without any other warning thick ropes of white cum were spurting forth from his member, landing on my dress. I just froze. I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there, my hands still clamped to his equipment, until his climax passed. "I'm, umm, sorry about that...." Dick broke the ice. "But thanks... I needed that!" "Umm, that's alright. God moves in mysterious ways," I let go of my grip on his softening member and began to check where his cum had landed. "Your erection is going down, after all, just as we prayed it might." "I think it's just on your dress," he pointed out where he could see it had fallen. He seemed to be right. "It should be easy enough to rinse out," I agreed. "Can I use your bathroom?" "Sure, down the hall, first on the right," he gestured which way to go. I stood. "Hey, Laura, as it's lunch time and your dress'll take a while to dry off, do you want me to get you something to eat? It's the least I can do." "That sounds like a plan," I agreed as I began to make for the bathroom. He was so considerate. "Tuna salad on rye?" He called after me. "Perfect. And a glass of wine if you have any." I'd decided that I needed a drink after that experience. Chapter 2 It wasn't every pastoral visit that led to me sitting eating a tuna sandwich at a handsome stranger's breakfast bar, dressed only in just my very finest lingerie and a pair of four inch strappy stilettos, but I must confess that it was quite an enjoyable experience nonetheless. I helped myself to another sip of wine to wash down the last bite of my sandwich. "You know, you look amazing in that get up, Laura," Dick remarked. He'd hardly taken his eyes off me for the last thirty minutes, ever since I'd walked back into the lounge in just my jewellery, my lingerie and stockings and my high heels. I hadn't anything else to wear until my dress finished drying, and I wasn't showing any more flesh than I would in a bikini, so it had seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to do. He'd put his boxer shorts back on to make lunch but had left it at that in order, he said, not to make me feel underdressed. These English guys could be such gentlemen. "Thank you." I responded graciously and with a slight blush. I tried to keep in shape, even if that shape was hour glass rather than stick insect. "But I have to say, it looks like my little problem's coming back," he confessed, looking rather bashful. I peered round the counter top. He was right. The bulge seemed to be returning to his shorts. "What do you want to try next?" "Next? I'm a married woman," I replied. "This morning was just an unfortunate... Sexual relations are out of the question...." But still, I was already rather entranced both by the thought that I could have such an obvious effect on him and by fantasies about what we might do about it. "Fair enough," he nodded. Then he smiled, as though he'd just had an idea. "Hey, do you remember Bill and Monica?" How could I not? I nodded. "Well, apparently blowjobs don't come under 'sexual relations'. And I can't go around all afternoon like this...." He had a point. What was good enough for the POTUS was surely good enough for me? And Dick's problem wasn't getting any smaller. Even as I watched his cock was starting to emerge from his boxer shorts. It was my pastoral duty to minister to his needs as best I could. I'd taken on this task, I couldn't back out now. Best not to overthink these things – just get on with it. It was the maxim that had got me through a hundred church bake sales. I took another mouthful of wine to fortify my resolve, slipped from my stool and knelt on the floor beside him. He spun on his stool to face me and stood. His bulge was at eye level now, so, without further ado I pulled his shorts down and then set to work. His cock seemed even bigger close up than it had in my hands, but still just as perfect. I started by teasing the end of it with my tongue, giving little nips with my lips between lips as I worked around the tip, cleaning off any traces of precum. Then I began to lick up and down its length. While my hand stole up to cup his balls, his began to massage my scalp. I looked up at him, as best I could manage without abandoning my task, and he smiled down at me. "Oh, Laura, that's just fantastic," he encouraged me. I kissed the base of his shaft as reward, my hand leaving his balls just long enough to wrap around his shaft and give three slow, languorous strokes. He groaned in ecstasy. That was when I chose to close my lips around him and suck. "Holy moley...!" Dick exclaimed. "You suck like a Hoover!" But that wasn't the only trick in my arsenal. I've been married for nearly twenty years, after all. Up and down I went, sucking, licking, and rolling and fluttering my tongue against his shaft as I went. After a minute or three of ministering to him I could tell he was getting close by the salty taste of precum starting to overwhelm my taste buds. "Laura... Laura...." He began to chant my name in slow heavy breaths and I knew it was time to back off if I didn't want it to be all over in seconds. I pulled away. He groaned in disappointment. "I want you to cum in my mouth," I reassured him, before sucking down hard on him again. I had my reasons for doing so. I believe that spilling a man's seed is wasteful and wrong. I didn't want a repeat of this morning, when his cum had just spurted willy nilly about the place. And I also wanted to suck him dry, to make sure that this time his cock would stay flaccid when I was done, to fulfil my self-appointed pastoral mission to relieve his priapism. I sucked hard once again, fluttering my tongue against him. That did the job – he cried out in pleasure, and at the same time my mouth filled with his warm, salty seed. But I didn't stop sucking – I really was determined to ensure he was totally emptied this time. I knew I was getting there a minute or so later when he tried to pull away, his knees buckling as he begged for release from my mouth. I decided that that was probably enough. I took mercy on him and let him slither out through my lips. I swallowed hard and stood, my huge grin matching his. Except, of course, for the fact that he had no trace of cum dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "Wow, that was.... Incredible," he complimented me, running his hands up and down my sides. When his fingers diverted to cup my pussy I opened my mouth to object that we'd be having none of that. But he spoke first. "Oh, Laura, you're so wet!" I blushed. I didn't like to think about how sexually excited I had got by parading about in my underwear and then sucking him off. I was on church business, after all, never mind the fact that I'm a happily married mother. "I know how expensive this sort of silk kit is – you ought to rinse your panties out straight away." I nodded. Not only did he have a point, it got me away from his wandering hands, hopefully long enough for his lust, and mine, to subside. As I turned and wiggled towards the door on my high heels he wolf whistled after me. "Don't take too long, sexy," he called as, heading through the door, I coquettishly flicked a glance back at him over my shoulder. What can I say? The wine had gone a bit to my head, bringing down a few of my barriers towards flirting like that with a strange man. Chapter Three "Dick!" I called out, trying to work out where he had gotten to while I was rinsing out my panties. I hadn't taken too long over it – to be honest, a little, naughty part of me wanted to rush back into his presence, to see what might happen next. "I'm in here," he called from the next door down. I followed his voice and found myself in a well-appointed but clearly masculine bedroom, dominated by a black-sheeted king-sized bed. The drapes were drawn but numerous side lights provided ample illumination. He turned to face me as I walked in, his eyes clearly revelling in the fact that I was still dressed in just my jewellery, underwear and high heels, sans panties now, of course. "I was looking for, umm, something for you to put on..." he explained. Not that he'd put anything on himself. Indeed, somewhere along the line he'd lost his T-shirt. His body was in amazing shape, like a male model. But I had no time to dwell on that small detail: His old problem had also returned with a vengeance – his cock was pointing straight at me, as full and erect as it had been when I had first seen it, maybe an hour before. "Again?" I asked, my voice betraying disbelief. Although in reality I must say I was more than a little excited. My husband had never been so turned on by me that he'd had three erections on the same day, far less three raging hard-ons in about an hour. I was pretty sure my juices were starting to flow again, my body desperately wanting this, even if my head said 'no.' "Sorry. Looks like we'll have to try something else," he replied sheepishly. "Such as?" I had no idea what to do now. "I thought I'd drained you dry just five minutes ago! I'm married, remember? No way am I..." "Well, you know the Pledge girls?" He asked, as though he had an idea as to what might work next. "Hmm?" I confirmed my awareness of the girls who pledged not to have premarital sex. "Well, apparently a lot of them reckon anal is OK. What about you...?" "I... I dunno." I was genuinely at my wits end, way beyond my comfort zone, and a little befuddled on the wine I'd drunk with lunch and ever so slight swept away in the eroticism of the situation. "I've never done it before. I guess if it doesn't count as sexual relations with the Pledge people...?" "Oh man..." He bounced about with excitement. "Your first time! All the better. You'll love it. Come over here and kneel on the bed." In something of a haze, born of lust, alcohol and just plain being out of my depth, I followed Dick's instructions, walking up to the edge of the bed and crawling onto it on my hands and knees. I looked up to find myself gazing into a nearby mirror. There was a slightly concerned look on my face and I could see my ample boobs dangling outrageously but still cupped in my silk bra. Further back I could see Dick kneeling behind my obviously stocking clad legs, fiddling with a bottle of something. I felt a cold wetness on my ass and gasped in shock and surprise. "Lube, we'll need it," Dick explained and I gasped again as what I assumed was his finger, began to slip slowly in and out of my ass. "I'm just spreading the lube about a bit and opening you up," he explained in a deeply reassuring voice. "Best not to rush these things." Just then a small light, blinking on the table in front of me, suddenly caught my attention. "What's that little light?" I asked, instantly curious. "Video camera. Don't worry about it and keep looking into the mirror. I want to see your expression when I enter you. You'll enjoy it too." "Don't worry!?" I exclaimed, suddenly wondering why he was recording this. But I had no time to pursue my line of questioning because at that moment an explosion of sensations gripped my virgin ass. It felt like something enormous had just pushed past my sphincter and, lube or not, a jolt of pain shot through me at the unfamiliar sensations. In the mirror I could see my eyes widening, my mouth opening to an O to exhale my long, loud gasp. I also caught sight of my stocking and stiletto clad feet lifting involuntarily from the bed as my body responded, arching and tensing to and try to accommodate his cock. My hand briefly went back to the source of the pain, but the discomfort was already fading, to be replaced by a strange, exquisite pleasure like nothing else I had ever felt before. Sunday Best Ch. 02 A second instalment in this short series of related fics. The fics are related, but can be read in isolation. This chapter contains mild elements of consensual bondage and domination. Please do not read if these things might upset you. ~~~~~~~~~ My adventure had started when the Reverend Balls came up to me at the end of the morning service last Sunday. "Sarah?" He touched my forearm to gain my attention. "Yes?" I replied, spinning on my patent leather stilettoes to face him: no mean feat in a herringbone pencil skirt, but I was well practiced at it. "I was wondering if I might ask a favour?" The reverend always had a way of getting people to do things. "You know you only need to ask, reverend," I replied, full of haughty confidence. "Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it." "Well," he scratched behind his ear and pulled a face. "Last week Laura, Laura Fellatio began visiting a new parishioner, ministering to his needs. But she's not very well today, so I was wondering if you could step in?" "What sort of thing is...?" I asked casually, giving every impression that whatever it was, I was well up to the task. "His name is Dick Rockhardt, he's a charming young man who really wants to commit to our little flock, but I think a few things are proving quite hard for him." I nodded. I'd plenty of experience dealing with crises of faith and bringing people into the fold, after all. I was confident that there was nothing about this Mr Dick Rockhardt that I couldn't handle. "Of course. My family will just have to muddle by on their own for a while," I reassured him. "Excellent. I knew I could rely on you: you always see things through. Once you get the bit between your teeth there's no stopping you." It always pleases me when someone says something like that about me as that is just the way I like to see myself. And it's far, far better than some of the things I've been called. I'm not even sure I even know what people mean by 'retentive' or 'up-tight' -- they're probably only jealous, when all is said and done. I've also been described as prim and proper, but I prefer just-so. When I set my mind to something I do it. If I make a promise, I follow it through. No compromises, no deviations. It's just the sort of person I am. So, half an hour later I parked outside Dirk's address. A nice, tidy house in a nice, tidy neighbourhood. I approved already. I swung down the sun visor to expose the vanity mirror. A final check confirmed that my dark, auburn hair was perfectly pinned up atop my head, that my makeup was also perfect and that my tailored white blouse was buttoned all the way up to the top. I swung my legs, knees held primly together, out of my car. Exiting a vehicle with your dignity intact is no mean feat in the sort of long, tight skirts I favour, but I am an expert at it. Once on the sidewalk, my four inch patent leather heels clicked satisfyingly and familiarly as I made my elegant and controlled way to the nice, shiny purple front door. I banged his big, brass knocker firmly and confidently. The door was answered by a rather dashing looking young man. He was tall, dark and handsome, albeit dressed in running shorts and an exercise vest. I could forgive him his informality though: His muscular body glistened in places with a fine sheen of sweat, implying that I'd just interrupted his workout. "Dick Rockhardt?" I flashed him my perfect, $20,000 smile. "Yes?" Was that an English accent, I wondered? How dreamy. "Sarah DeVille. From the First Avenue church." "Excellent! I am so pleased you came! I thought I recognised you!" He beamed back. "You'd better come in!" I followed him inside and through to his living area. "I must admit, I was expecting to see Laura.... Laura Fellatio," he chatted as we walked. He had a nice tidy, house. I like that in a man. And he was very easy on the eye, I must confess. He looked rather like the sort of man who sometimes featured in my racier daydreams. "Yes, well, Laura's a little unwell today so Reverend Balls asked me to squeeze you in to my schedule." "Unwell?" he seemed genuinely concerned. It was sweet and endearing. "Oh dear. Nothing serious I hope?" "No, I don't think so. Apparently she slipped over last Sunday and is still feeling sore -- she's just having a little trouble walking about." It's what I'd been told, anyway. Not that I really knew -- we aren't really what you would call bosom buddies. "Oh, I'm so pleased to hear that it's nothing too serious." He seemed strangely amused and also pleased at my reply. "The reverend said she was counselling you?" "Yes, yes she was. Is." He smiled disarmingly and pointed towards the open-plan kitchen area. "We were going to be at it for a couple of hours today, so I'd actually cooked lunch for the pair of us. Do you like saltimbocca?" "Whatever that is, it sounds wonderful!" I laughed, opening up to him and touching his arm in the hope that he would feel more comfortable opening up to me in turn. He smiled encouragingly back. Perfect. "Great, great, well lunch is in the oven, keeping warm, if you're hungry." "It smells delicious." I touched him again on his bare arm. Biting my lip, I lowered my eyes, my gaze accidentally taking in his figure. He had quite the gym-body, shown off a treat by his shorts and vest. "It's all ready, so you'll pardon me if I don't change beforehand?" I followed him through to the dining area, enjoying the view. "I've got a nice white wine in the fridge too. Would you like some?" "I shouldn't." I found myself charmed and delighted as he took the trouble to seat me at his dining table like a true gentleman. "But you will anyway, right?" How could I refuse a smile and manners like that? I nodded. "So, if you're staying, I take it you're not just here to let me know that Laura is poorly?" "Absolutely," I confirmed, taking a mouthful from the wine glass he had set down before me. It tasted like a rather pleasant Chardonnay, my favourite. "I want you to offer my services in her place. Just for this week, till she's on her feet again." "I must say, that's really thoughtful of you..." Dirk replied, bringing two plates of something rather delicious-smelling across to the table. "But?" I asked as he settled opposite me and took a taste from his own wine glass. "Well, we were making such good progress last week... And we had a plan all agreed for this week." He paused and frowned. "Look to be honest, I'd really rather not go any further with the counselling unless I know you're fully committed to sticking with her plan." "I swear by the Good Book." I declared earnestly. "You just let me know what Laura had planned and I promise I won't let you down." "Oh," he seemed to relax a little. "Well maybe... OK, yes. That'd be great. If you're sure?" "Positive. Whatever she planned, I'm up for it," I promised. "Shall I say Grace?" "Go right ahead." He grinned with relief and something else that I could not quite place. "Dear Lord," I began, laying my hand across his. "We thank you for the gifts of good food and good company, and most of all, we thank you for the opportunity to get to the bottom of whatever is troubling our beloved brother Dick. Strengthen and guide us and steel our resolve to speak openly with each other. Bless us both with the strength and courage and fortitude to say and do what must be done without reservation. We ask this in your son's name, Amen." "Amen. Thank you, Sarah. It's good to know you're really committed to this," he smiled back at me. "Well, tuck in!" '~' "This is excellent." I asked and took another generous mouthful of wine. It was really quite strong stuff. "What did you say it was called again?" I indicated the food on my fork before taking it in through pouting, ruby-red lips. "Saltimbocca. It means 'explodes in the mouth," he chuckled. I blushed. "You look really cute when you blush," he smirked, lifting the last forkful from his own plate. "It sets off the whole 'Naughty Librarian' vibe you've got going wonderfully." "Naughty librarian?" I blushed more deeply. "So," I looked down coyly, flattered by the risqué compliment. "What was it Laura was counselling you about?" "It's umm.... Well, you see, the thing is..." he faltered. "You can tell me," I looked back up and settled my hand gently, encouragingly, on his, batting my eyelids slightly. "Well, Sarah. I've been worried... I've been worried... that... that I might be gay." I thought that I hid my surprise at his revelation pretty well. Actually, I decided on swift reflection, it wasn't that surprising: The body, the house, the car the lack of a wife or girlfriend .... Everything. He was obviously a pretty desirable guy but was obviously single. The sound of him speaking interrupted my reverie. "I mean, I certainly don't seem to be into normal, straight stuff. The thing is, I don't seem to get sexually excited by the sort of things that ought to... I mean... I know most guys would look at an attractive woman like you and.... Well... I can see you ARE very attractive, but nothing happens down below." "I see," I replied earnestly, not entirely sure that I did, but not willing to tell him that, although I was deeply flattered and thrilled by his description of me as a very attractive woman. "And, to try and get my head straightened out, Laura said she was going to take me through a few straight, sexual fantasies." My mind spun as I tried to parse what he had just said. "I don't think that'd be appropriate," I interrupted, just a little shocked. "She was just going to talk about some stuff, that's all." "Even so..." "You did swear to go along with what Laura's plans," he frowned, withdrawing his hand from mine. He looked and sounded like he was hiding betrayal and disappointment. "Yes, but..." I continued to protest. "Look, the plan was to try and find a heterosexual fantasy that excited me. Then we could build on that to get me thinking more like a... a straight guy." He shrugged and huffed. "But if you want to back out, if you don't want to try to help me, I guess it's best to know now." "Well, if you put it like that?" I mulled some thoughts round in my head, trying to think of something I could say, some fantasy which I wouldn't be too embarrassed to tell him. Finally, I settled on an idea that didn't seem too outrageous or embarrassing. "I like it when a man takes charge. Tells me what to do. Tells me what he's going to do." "Well, to be honest, I think a lot of women do," he responded, nodding gravely. At least he wasn't nasty about it, which warmed me to him a bit more. "But I really need you to tell me something a bit... a bit more erotic. One of your actual fantasies. Tell me one of your actual fantasies," he insisted, giving me the boldness I needed to go on. I took a deep breath. "I sometimes think I'd like a man to take charge of me. Physically." It was just a small step from what I'd already told him after all. "Interesting," he shook his head slowly. "Tell me in what way, exactly?" "Well," I blushed heavily and averted my eyes. I wasn't really comfortable with telling him anything more detailed. Still, he still seemed harmless enough. My eyes even quickly took in his crotch, detecting no sign of any additional life there. That lack of obvious response did back up his story. "Sarah," he said with a mixture of frustration and encouragement. "This is an important part of the therapy that Laura was planning. You did promise that you'd follow through with it." A promise was a promise. I steeled my resolve and pressed on. "Sometimes I like to think of a man, a strong, forceful man, bending me over his knee and... " "Yes? What does he do then?" "He, he spanks me." I blushed again, although he didn't seem at all embarrassed. My eyes caught sight of his crotch. He didn't seem excited either. "Not, not to hurt me, you understand?" "Just to dominate you," he nodded in understanding. "To be in charge." "Hmm." I agreed with him. "Well," he gave an understanding nod. "At risk of sounding like I'm the one helping you, I don't think that's that unusual a female fantasy either, to be honest." "Perhaps not," I conceded. "You need to tell me something a little stronger. Something that... that even hearing you voicing the idea might get a guy aroused." I swallowed deeply, diving deeper into my fantasies. I leapt in: "Alright. I come home from church, or work or something, and there's someone in the house." "Who?" "Doesn't matter. But usually one of my son's friends from the gym." My mouth ran ahead of me, the words pouring out as a catharsis. "He's fit and strong. Much stronger than me. He's dressed in his gym kit. He must have let himself in and found no one home. He's gone to my bedroom and is poking around when I get home." "Poking around?" Dick interrupted. I stared at him for a second, absorbing the fact that, physically, he did resemble the man I had just described: Fit, strong. He was even dressed like he'd just come from the gym. "In what way?" I wondered if he realised how well he fit the description of the man in my fantasy? I was certainly fully aware that he did, and I found it enticing, exciting, even. "Going through my clothes..." "Your," he paused and arched an interrogative eyebrow. "Your lingerie?" "Yes." I whispered, quiet as a church mouse. "Do you have a lot of lingerie, then?" My blush told him that I did. I wanted to move on, talk about something else. "Anyway, when he hears me come in, he hides, in my wardrobe." I knew it was bizarre that I was telling him all of this, but I felt compelled to do so. Partly it was the fact that he was so commanding, partly it was that I had made commitments and lastly, everything about him and the situation was playing upon and fuelling my own deepest fantasies. "Go on," he insisted, pushing me through my pause before it could become something more permanent. "I know he's there," I coyly admitted, briefly catching his eye and then looking down. "I can see all my stuff on the bed, but I decide to tease him a bit." "What do you do?" "I take off my blouse. Slowly. Teasingly. And then my skirt. Then I lie down on bed and start to...." I faltered again. "It's embarrassing, sorry." "You start to play with yourself," he calmly stated what I could not bring myself to say. "Yes," I confirmed quietly. "And then?" He just kept pushing. Fortunately, this version of my fantasy was pretty much done. "Well, after a while, I go to my bathroom, or to get a drink or something, and he slips out." I smiled and sighed, relieved to have gotten through it. "Interesting." He nodded slowly, neutrally, without obvious excitement. "So, Dick, does that do anything for you?" I asked hopefully. Was I hoping that this would all be over soon or hoping for something more? Was I actually hoping that I was able to turn him on? "Stir any feelings?" I stole a glance at his crotch. Nothing was happening there still. I felt disappointed that I had had no effect on him. "Maybe. Hard to tell. Maybe if it was a little raunchier it might?" "Raunchier!?" I protested doing my best to sound shocked and even a little horrified. I did indeed have a far racier version of the fantasy which I had just outlined to him. Surely I wouldn't have to reveal that, too? And yet, the thought of him telling me to reveal it to him was definitely exciting me. "Yes. I'm sure you've got raunchier fantasies. You need to tell me one." "Why? Why do I need to?" I continued to protest. "Because you promised to and I'm telling you to." He stated flatly, exuding self-confidence. He was totally in control of the situation, totally in charge: I felt unable to resist him further. "Well, umm, it all starts similarly." I began, still a little nervous, a little disbelieving that I was so much in his thrall. "You come in? This young man from the gym, he's in your bedroom, going through your things?" "Yes." My voice trembled. I could barely look him in the face. Already, in my mind's eye, Dick was now playing the part of my intruder. The way he was dressed, in his workout gear, I didn't have to imagine too hard. "Does he hide again?" "Yes. But this time, as I start to get undressed, after I start..." "Teasing him." "Really, do we have to?" I pleaded. "You did promise to..." He nodded his head gravely. "To speak openly and fully." He shifted slightly in his seat. Fascinated, I watched his muscles cording and rippling just beneath the skin on his arms and legs. "But..." I bit my bottom lip. "No buts," he insisted. "The more detail you give, the more chance that you might spark some hidden urges in me. You do want to help me, don't you?" "Yes," I nodded, talking in a voice I barely recognised as my own. Never mind sparking urges in him, I was certainly feeling a few urges of my own. "Go on," he insisted. "He knocks something over in the wardrobe. Well I have to investigate, I can't just pretend I didn't hear. He jumps out. He's naked. His cock is hard, so hard. And he... he grabs me and pushes me onto the bed. There's stockings and stuff all over the bed from when he was going through my drawers. He ties me up. Blindfolds me. Then he...." "He finishes unbuttoning your blouse." "Yes." "Does he do it slowly or like a wild animal?" My mouth opened and closed wordlessly a few times while I considered how to answer that, maybe whether to answer that. "Slowly," I finally croaked, half in admission, half in unfulfilled desire as I imagined Dick pinning me down and slowly unbuttoning my shirt, revealing my lace-cupped breasts. "Then he undoes your skirt." It was a statement not a question. I nodded. "He takes off your skirt." I nodded again. "Slowly?" Another nod. I could feel my cheeks flushing. "So now, you're tied to your bed, in your lingerie, at his mercy. What does he do?" "He... There's a toy... a big glass thing... and a vibrator." "Yes?" He leaned over and topped up my wine. "Tell me what he does next." I took a large mouthful from the glass to steady myself. "He... he teases me with them. Until I can't take it anymore. Until I beg him to take me." "Does he take you?" "Yes." I was totally subservient to Dick's will now: I had to tell him whatever he asked. "How does he take you?" "He... he makes me suck him off." "You give him a blowjob." It wasn't a question. He was so matter of fact about it, so calm in the face of my timid, embarrassed excitement. "Then he cums on me." I was making my fantasy up as I went along now, embellishing it with whatever came into my head. "All over my face, my hair, my breasts." "So he never fucks your pussy?" The words were so harsh, so matter of fact on my ears. So controlled and confident, so sexy. "No... Not in this fantasy." "That was interesting," he shrugged calmly. "I was almost turned on, I think." He took a sip of his own wine. "Almost?" I spluttered in disappointment. I was pretty sure I was wet through. "Well you know us guys?" He chuckled. It was the first emotion he'd shown for some time. "We're more tactile, more visual. Maybe I might feel a bit more if you showed me. Just the first fantasy, of course. Come over here and lie across my lap." It was presented as such an instruction, such a statement of what was going to happen that I felt compelled to obey. I could feel heat burning between my legs, through my abdomen, my desire sending a rush of hot blood to my brain, clouding my judgement. I felt powerless to disobey him. I could scarcely believe I was doing it, but I had promised, and there was still no significant bulge visible in his shorts as I lay down across his firm, muscular naked thighs, so surely it was all safe? Nothing was going to happen. Sunday Best Ch. 02 The palm of his hand smacked against my buttocks with a resounding crack. It was more sound than fury, but still, it was enough to send a jolt of sexual frisson shooting through me. I gasped, my breath catching in shock and pleasure. I barely had time to take another breath before another smack landed on my ass. "You like that?" he chuckled between a third and fourth slap. I nodded, biting my lip as a fifth smack landed. "Good, I'm really happy for you." Another smack landed, soon followed by his hand settling to give my buttock a soothing rub. "Although it's not really doing anything for me. Sorry." I was mortified that I wasn't yet turning him on. "Stand up." He ordered. I stood, catching sight of my flushed, red cheeks in the mirror by the door. "Start undoing your blouse." "No," I protested weakly. The lack of resolve behind my words must have been clear to him. He never flinched for a moment. "Yes. Start to undo your blouse now. Slowly. Imagine I'm your son's friend, back from the gym. I've sneaked in here and I'm spying on you, just like in your second fantasy." I could feel how deeply I was breathing as my fingers moved to the top button on my blouse. Our eyes locked briefly, before his gaze dropped down, watching me undress. The third button on my blouse was undone now -- half way down. He just sat watching her, that oh-so-confident smile playing around his lips and eyes. I paused. "Keep going," he commanded. Panting heavily, I struggled to control my fingers as they moved down to open the next button. Was I struggling to open the button or to stop myself opening it? Even I wasn't really sure any more. "Good," he nodded as the last button opened. "You're really good at that. But still nothing down here." He shrugged, tapping his still more or less bulge-free pants. "Put your top back on and we'll go through to the bedroom." It was said so casually, as though it was inevitable and unremarkable. "You're kidding!" I weakly protested, knowing my ability to deny him was long gone. "No. I'm not. You are going to go through to the bedroom and we are going to try again. Up the ante. Your third fantasy." I was in a daze, the whole experience was totally alien to me, outside of my private fantasies. I seemed to have no choice but to do exactly as he told me to do. He followed me closely down the hall, directing me into his bedroom with supremely assured self-confidence. "OK, let's set the scene a bit..." he remarked casually, going through drawers, pulling out a handful of silk ties and scarves. "I don't have any stockings to dump on the bed, so these'll have to stand in." Then he pulled out some sort of white wand like device, maybe a foot or more long and a few inches in diameter. It had a power lead at one end and a big, bulbous head at the other. "Sports massager." He explained in response to my wide, questioning eyes, tossing it on the bed. "I use it for training injuries. Sorry, I don't have any sex toys. This'll just have to do." "Don't be silly," I protested. "It's huge!" "Oh! You thought..?" he laughed and shook his head. "No. Don't worry, I'd never dream of using it like that." He winked back. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Right then, I'll go behind the wardrobe door and you start undressing." I could scarcely believe what I was doing. I stood by his big, King-sized bed and, a quivering mess of excitement and nerves, I began to unbutton my shirt. I could feel his eyes on me all the while. The last button came free and I paused. Then, before I could rationalise what I was doing, I shucked my shirt off my shoulders, turning as I did so, giving him a clear view of my pert breasts, still cradled within my lacy bra. I could feel the fabric pushing back against my nipples as they pressed outwards, straining for attention. My hands, as though on autopilot, moved round my skirt, first undoing my ornamental belt and then tugging down the side zipper running the length of my hip. After a few seconds the zipper reached the end of its run and soon after my grey herringbone skirt pooled on the floor, covering my shoes and ankles. That was when he sprung out from behind the door. Even though I knew it was coming, a jolt of surprise still shot through me. Impulsively, I took a step as though to flee but I stumbled on my skirt, tumbling towards the bed. The next thing I remember I was on the bed, struggling ineffectually beneath him like a pinned butterfly. He moved with incredible strength, speed and assuredness. Both my wrists were clasped in one of his strong hands while the other looped something long and silky around them and then on up, securing my arms to the bedhead. Another few seconds, another few pointless struggles on my part and my ankles were similarly secured. My cheeks and my belly were aflame. My heart was beating like a drum. I felt wicked. I felt fantastic. "You want this, don't you?" He growled, a hand stroking my stockinged calf. "Yes," I heard my voice answer. It was true, I did. "You want me to bring your fantasy to life." The hand ghosted up, over my knee, up my thigh. "Yes," I croaked, barely able to speak. He stood and smiled down at me. I was shocked and disappointed to see that he still didn't seem to be exhibiting a bulge in his shorts: by now I was so turned on I was sure my panties must be soaked. "So, are you secure?" He asked. I tugged at the silk scarfs tying me to the bed frame. "Seems so," I confirmed, recovering some of my composure as the adrenaline rush from him pinning me down and tying me up receded. "But it doesn't look like it did you any good. So you can untie me..." "No, I think we're getting somewhere. We'll press on." And with that he seemed to half turn away and reach inside his boxers. I craned my neck to see what he was doing. When he turned back, a few seconds later, my eyes were torn between the hard, athletic box which his hand seemed to be dropping to the floor bedside the bed and the large bulge now pushing the front of his shorts out by about six inches. Where had that come from? Had the box been hiding it all along? Had I been tricked? Did I care if I had been? Not truthfully, not at that precise moment. He smiled down at me and pulled off his vest, revealing the shapely, well-muscled torso which I had long known would be underneath. "See?" he asked, dropping his shorts now, allowing himself to spring free. "Now, we're making progress at last. So what was next in your fantasy?" His cock was big, dark, velvety and very, very erect. My cheeks flushed as I recalled what I had told him came next. Whether through lust, embarrassment or something else, I couldn't bring myself to tell him. "Oh, I remember. First the vibrator..." He lifted the oversized wand, plugged the long cable into a power socket and began twiddling with the controls. I was panting heavily, desperate to escape, yet also desperate for him to fulfil my fantasy. He turned it on and it buzzed like a nest of angry wasps. My eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. "Don't worry, it's the lowest setting," he winked at me, waving the manically buzzing white wand around in front of my face for a few seconds before lowering it out of my sight. What was he about to do? Or, more realistically, where was he going to start? The wand touched against the sole of my foot, nearly overwhelming me with its unaccustomed vibrations. I gasped and he laughed. Slowly, so slowly it was almost unbearable, he moved the head of the machine up my stocking-sheathed legs, lavishing attention first on my feet, then my calves, my knees, my thighs. He took an age, exploring every part of my legs in minute detail. I shivered in anticipation. I knew what must be coming next. Or I thought I did. He reached the top of my thighs and sniggered as he passed over my crotch, making straight for my belly. Soon he had moved higher and was circling my boob, spiralling slowly in towards the nipple, taking almost as much time as he had over my legs. He was lying beside me now. I could feel his hot, heavy cock lying across my thigh, rubbing against me, moving around as though of its own accord. "So, do you want this on you?" He teased me. I nodded almost imperceptibly. "No, not good enough," was his taunting reply. I was in despair. "Tell me exactly what you want." "I want," I gasped. "I want it on my pussy." "Say please," he laughingly teased me, waving the device before my wide, desperate eyes. "Please!" I begged. He smiled broadly, licked his lips and then touched the wand back against my thigh, just above my stocking top. The frantic vibration, so close yet so far, had me mewling like a kitten, desperate for more. I could hear his chuckles through the fog of my excitement and the buzzing of the wand. "PLEASE!" I begged. He replied to my desperate cry with a sonorous laugh. And then it was there, pressed against me through the thin lace of my panties, driving me wild, stimulating me like nothing else I had ever known. "You like that?" "Mmmm," I groaned, sensible thought having been lost amongst the multitude of pleasures being bestowed upon me. "You want more?" "Yes, I want more," I whimpered. "Good." He lay the device atop my thighs and picked up a tie and a scarf. What was he doing? A few seconds later, all became clear. He was tying the wand to my thighs, securing it against my pussy. The buzzing from the wand suddenly soared upwards in pitch -- he must have turned up the frequency of the vibrations. "What are you..?" I began to ask, half dreading, half longing for the answer as growing tremors of pleasure arced outwards from my pussy, reaching every extremity of my body. My words trailed off in a groan. "Hey, it's your fantasy. Have you forgotten?" He laughed, hefting himself up so that his naked and fully erect cock swung into my view. My frown showed that I couldn't recall what might happen next. "You're going to suck me off." He explained with a broad grin. I opened my mouth to protest, or perhaps to suck in air, gasping as the keening wand began to drive my body wild with undreamed-of excitement. Either way, it was a foolish thing to do as I immediately found myself all but silenced by the massive shaft which he expertly swung between my lips. He tasted of salt and fresh sweat and sex. It was delicious. What else could I do but suck and lick? Slowly, gently, perhaps even considerately, he pumped his cock in and out of my mouth. His hands seemed to have found my breasts, adding to my excitement and pleasure as the kneaded, tweaked and caressed me. Those two things alone would have been exciting enough, but the wand strapped between my thighs, pressed against my lips and my clit was inescapable. It buzzed away with a ferocity that nothing before had prepared me for, and all the while my mouth feasted on his rigid, enormous cock. And yet through all of that I suddenly felt an almost overwhelming urge to go to the bathroom. Fortunately, at that moment, Dick withdrew from my mouth. "I need to pee!" I spluttered frantically, hoping he would take me seriously and let me go. But instead he just laughed, one hand still rolling my nipple while the other was now stroking away at his cock. "You're not going to pee. You're going to squirt," he announced with supreme arrogance. And yet he was right. No sooner had the words left his mouth than my body was wracked by the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced. My orgasm gushed forth between my legs, soaking my thighs. And at that moment his cock exploded across me, rope after rope of cum hitting my cheek and my hair, trailing across my neck and breasts. I opened my mouth, determined to catch and taste just a little of his seed. I was not disappointed. As my climax ebbed away he mercifully reached over and switched off the wand: Although the sensations had been beyond amazing, now I felt over stimulated and it was a blessed relief when it stopped. I was still struggling to get my breath back as he undid whatever was strapping the wand to my thigh and lifted it away. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" He chuckled. I could barely do more than nod in reply. He reclined on his side alongside me, rubbing my arm with gentle affection. "Me too." His finger traced where his cum had fallen on my neck and hair by way of illustration. "I think I'm going to need regular therapy like this." "Regular?" I frowned, thinking to protest that this would never, must never, ever happen again. "No...No!" "Yes, regular. I must insist," he commanded. "Well, if you insist," I nodded my assent. I was still tied up, after all. I told myself I wasn't exactly in a position to disagree. "I'll expect you Tuesday evening at 7, sharp. That should give enough time to prepare." "Prepare? For what?" "You'll find out." He ran a hand freely over my body, passing over my boobs, my hips, my thighs, before finally cupping my sex. "Although I wouldn't say that we're finished today," he laughed as his finger slipped inside my panties. "You see, I've just had a little fantasy of my own." He smirked, as two of his fingers slid into my dripping pussy and began to stroke. "About some prim, sexy woman I find tied to a bed in nothing but her underwear." He leant in close until he was whispering in my ear. "So I fuck her over and over, all afternoon, until I can't get it up any more." "Please!" I squealed, allowing Dick to interpret whether I might have meant please yes or please no. Perhaps it was a little of both? The end Sunday Best Ch. 01 "Try and relax," he soothed, rubbing gently on my ass cheeks with both hands and holding his position until I settled down. No sooner had I followed his advice than he began to push further into me. I could feel him moving deeper and deeper inside my ass, exploring uncharted places and bestowing new pleasures on me. After a few seconds his hips came up against my butt, marking the deepest point of penetration, and then, slowly at first, he began to pump. Soon one of his hands reached round to toy with my clit. Having claimed that territory, his fingers moved inside, searching for and finding my most sensitive spot. Stars began to cloud my vision, the sensations from my pussy and my ass combining to drive me to new highs of bliss. But he didn't stop there. His hands moved all over, fondling my ass, cupping my boobs, tweaking my nipples. And all the while his cock kept pumping my ass, in and out like some kind of piston. He was right about enjoying watching events in the mirror, too. Watching my expressions and his, seeing how his hands moved over my body, how my body moved in response to his caresses and thrusts, just made it all the more thrilling. My vanilla husband would never dream of such a thing. My pleasure built steadily and orgasm after orgasm shook my body. I felt overwhelmed by having a strong, virile young man take me in ways I had never been taken before. And yet still he didn't cum. I can only guess that his previous two orgasms had done wonders for his staying power. I don't know how long he ravaged my ass for. Probably no more than fifteen long minutes looking back on it, but eventually my arms and legs, my whole body, started to tremble and weaken. He must have felt my resolve flagging, because he reached forward once again to cup my right boob, long now escaped from the cup of my bra, using it to pull me against him in one, last frantically rough set of thrusts. Yet another orgasm shook me, causing me to collapse and topple forwards. At that moment I felt something warm filling me up inside, just as he cried out in triumphant pleasure. Although I had never experienced anything quite so deliciously decadent, I felt unimaginable relief that it was all over. "Praise the Lord!" I gasped, gulping air. "That was amazing!" "Amen to that," Dick replied with a chuckle. We lay, spooned in silence for another minute or two before either of us spoke again. "You were incredible, Laura," his warm, English tones purred into the shell of my ear. "But I reckon three times is enough for one day, even for me." "Mmm..." I groaned in agreement, my mind still not fully functional. It may have been only three times for him, but I'd lost count of my climaxes. I felt deboned. I hoped he did too. "So, next Sunday, I want to try some bondage scenarios..." "Next Sunday!?" My eyes shot open as the implications of his remark sunk in: As far as he was concerned, this wasn't a one-off pastoral visit. With growing horror I realised that it seemed that he meant to take me over and over every Sunday, in ever more kinky ways. "Yeah, I'm sure you can persuade the minister and your hubby that there's more of God's good work to be done here," he chuckled, cupping my boob and tweaking my nipple painfully hard. "It'd be a sin to have to rely on our little home video, after all..." he continued, not making it clear quite exactly what he meant by that remark. I was speechless. "Oh, and make sure you come dressed up in Sunday Best again, although maybe wear a corset next time. I really like those things on a body like yours," he chuckled as he ground his still semi-hard cock firmly against my ass. So now you understand why I need to talk to someone? Someone who doesn't know me? What should I do? I had the most amazing afternoon, but it was wrong, so, so wrong. If I don't go along with him, he has that video. What would he do with it? Do I really want to find out if he is willing to blackmail me to get what he wants? I feel so torn, so deliciously dirty and also so worried about what I might have set in motion. I need to decide what to do, and I need to decide quickly, before Sunday comes around again. And, at the very least I need to choose what to wear. The End