5 comments/ 39994 views/ 6 favorites Easy like Saturday Morning By: CyranoAndersson It was my first morning in a newly painted room in a refurbished house. New Shower, new doors and windows and, new floorboards and carpet. This is generally how my mind works - especially on a Saturday morning in a new room with the smell of paint in my nostrils. I did a mental check list: Debts cleared? - finally, after over a decade! Friends? - more than I have ever had in my entire life. Sex life? - Nothing regular, but the ex occasionally summons me for a friends-with-benefits cunt-munch and blow-job. Job? - Going well. I love working in London as a uniformed Officer. Location? - Okay, having been in the area for over a decade and still not tiring of the place. Health? Pretty good. I am off the booze and cigs and losing weight. My erections are harder than they have been in over a decade and I am now brushing my teeth three times a day so I can even taste how good my life is in my spit. Sooooooooo...why did I feel so empty and bored? I ran through my options. Imagining it was Chris Tarrant running through the life lines with me and I was a contestant on "WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE?" ONE: pray. Can't. I could not pray if my life depended on it...which it did, really. TWO: surf the net for porn. Naaaaaaaaah, not in the mood and am absolutely disgusted at myself for a lifetime of masturbation, voyeurism, and perverted sex. THREE: read the Bible. Heck no. I am depressed enough. A friend had once done the random flicking thing and came up with Judas Iscariot's suicide, then flicked randomly and came up with a line saying "Do it quickly!" Naturally, God has a warped sense of humour too. Just look at the Camel or Giraffe for proof of that! FOUR: phone a friend. It was 8am in London. My friends in New Zealand and Australia were busy just now, I knew their schedules. My friends in the States were not really sober enough at that hour to talk or even listen coherently. Friends in London were all asleep or had their own issues just now. FIVE: go to the gymn. Nope, I had not joined after a five day free trial so I guess that would not be an option. SIX: go for a random walk until you either end up lost and scared or on a bus with sore feet heading home, miles off the radar. SEVEN: connect the external hard drive and watch an old movie. I did not fancy any of the fifty movies on my hard drive. Seen them all a gazillion times. "hmmmm," I thought, "That walk sounds like fun!" There had been a time when I had walked my arse off through so many nights regularly to get to Horsenden Hill to watch the sunrises. It was already sun-up so I just followed my nose. Less than ten minutes from my house I saw a church with a sign saying "Open for prayer, please come in!" I live in one of the most secular cities on planet Earth and had passed this place maybe ten times in ten years. I figured it was my subconscious guiding me there...or, maybe, I could say "Fuck Freud, I just feel I need to be here!" Either way I was walking in without a care in the world for which denomination of Christianity it was. After all I had been to a Roman Catholic Infant School whilst attending a Methodist Sunday School and later went to a Protestant Junior School and then a Senior school with an evangelical Christian Agricultural Science Teacher who regularly brought over Church groups to sing or preach or perform "Skits." I had spent from age 21 to 24 vehemently Atheist until, certain events proved beyond reasonable doubt that there is a God and, that I was not Him. So anyway, here I was on a Saturday morning strolling into a Church to pray. Prayer can be done anywhere, it's just some folk feel more INSPIRED to pray in a building constructed and consecrated for worship and instruction. It's no biggie. I have a, "DO WHAT WORKS!" policy in life. So I sat there in a pew. I imagined some big fat bastard strolling in and saying "OI, you are in my seat!" But of course this was ridiculous - this was a CHURCH frequented by NICE PEOPLE. It took a while but eventually I cracked. The tears streamed down my face. I shook with grief at my own lostness. I had focussed so much on the human experience and human achievement I had forgotten the simple pleasures of being homeless and fired up for Jesus. I had achieved well in Worldly terms but spiritually a wall had crept up. That wall was my SIN. All my impurity, my lust, my self indulgeance. I was a fucked up human being all-right. A hand touched my shoulder. I jumped in shock. A soothing voice apologised. I mentally noted it was female and wiped the tears away before looking up. She was extremely attractive but with a dog collar on her neck. The lips of Taylor Swift, the eyes of Zooey Deschanel, and the nose of - I don't know - Elisabeth Perkins? The hair? A Blonde. She could certainly make a Priest kick a hole in a stained glass window. Whatever. I was about to speak to a woman of the cloth. "A layyydeeeee vi-carrrr", or a "Dibley" to use the colloquial slang of the Brits. Years earlier I had actively protested against the ordination of women priests and vicars. I had been brainwashed into the absolute ideology that the MEN lead the MEN and the WOMEN lead the WOMEN...but of course my old church had failed largely because the men were not leading a damn thing. They would listen to their wives or risk a loss of nookie. "Are you gonna be okay?" she said. I grinned at the pure genius of that question. "You must ask that question a lot." I responded. She frowned, "Nope, first time for me. I have never had to deal with a guy crying in a pew on a Saturday morning. 'til now." "Well," I attempted a coherent reply, "I am not an expert at crying in churches having not really visited them that often... I went to a church that met in school buildings mostly." "ICoC?" she said, totally flooring me. She proceeded to explain that she had remembered me from way back. "I was at your baptism in Queen's Park, New Year's Eve 1999!" My eyes widened, I had not even seen her there. Or maybe I had? She went on: "I saw you at Alexandra Palace one year. You were late and missed Communion and sat drinking tea with an Irish fella, then went in, and afterwards went ice-skating with some gorgeous girls suggesting you were in with the in crowd at the time." I protested that I had a friend at the time who had hooked me up with a friend of hers seeing as I knew how to skate and she did not. "Well, you certainly seemed like a fun guy to know!" I blushed, utterly speechless. "So," she said, "Do you want to talk through your issues?" "Issues?" I sighed, "I have the whole magazine subscription!" She laughed sympathetically and placed a hand on my shoulder again, massaging my neck and even playing with my long hair. I was invited to follow her to her house behind the church. We sat ourselves in a large kitchen - farmhouse style, with a breakfast bar in the middle. She offered me a coffee or tea, I told her I was not especially thirsty but if she wanted to brew up for herself then to go ahead. "So spill," she said simply, "Wassup?" I laughed. "How long do I have on the clock and what is it going to cost me?" "I have a Christening at 3pm and will probably need to pee around 11am, but apart from that, I am flexible!" she joked. Then she added as an afterthought, "The cost is negligible. I guess it is your salvation if you do not talk to SOMEONE but I am hoping it is me you talk to." "Alriiiighty thennnn," I replied. So I began. I told her about my childhood. The messed up situations, the loss of innocence too soon, and the discovery aged fourteen that I could orgasm through wanking. I checked her face for signs of dis-approval or boredom. She was rivetted. I checked her body for signs of interest. Feet pointing towards me and nipples visibly hard through her formal attire. Result! I told her about my discovery of a neighbour opposite my bedroom window who liked to masturbate for me in her living room, back when I was living at home with Mum. I told her how for years I would watch her jazzing herself regularly, especially in the summer months. I told her about various adventures and high-risk escapades, and a few liaisons and random dates that went nowhere fast. I told her everything. "So, what's your point?" She growled, after almost an hour. I apologised and sat there with an icy chill down my spine, afraid I had pissed her off. "Are you here to brag or confess your sin?" she demanded. "I dunno. I just wanna get rid of the emptiness and feel connected to Christ again." I offered her. "If that was true then you would not be making a point of telling me every detail of your talents at clit-sucking and finger-fucking women!" she said sternly. I had been BUSTED. Cornered even. I chose not to comment on the fact she had used unwholesome language. My own had been rather colourful. "Okay," I told her, "So I figure I have a talent for eating cunt. I figure I cannot marry as that would be utter misery - the thought of eating one cunt for the rest of my life without any way of enjoying the favour being returned because in my experience women cannot suck cock!" My tirade was met with an icy stare. "Do me a favour?" she asked, "Use the words fanny, vagina or pussy?" "Okay, I am so sorry," I began. "-It's okay!" she cut me off, "I just don't like the C word!" I told her I understood. "So," she chimed in, "you are mostly impotent but love cunnilingus?" "Yeah," I told her, "in a nutshell" "Would it knock your ego to know I was a Gold-Star Lesbian who repented and "got" religion, and found my faith was enough to keep me celibate???" I replied truthfully. "Nope." and then added, "I have nothing to prove, least of all to a dyke in a dog collar!" I realised this was a very offensive line. Thankfully she laughed it off. "So your perversions are somehow less terrible than mine? And you feel the need to put me down to reassure yourself that heterosexual perversions are less sinful than those of the homosexual?" My facial expression must have been a picture as she laughed. I attempted to frame an answer. I finally came out with: "I figure gays are no more messed-up than - say -left-handed people but we live in a right-handed world and God asks us all to play ball or keep out of it!" "Very well put," she chuckled, "and that is why I have been celibate for ten years." "Wow!" was all I could come out with. "So, you kinda wimped out in comparison by quitting church to use your talents at clit-sucking and muff-munching!" "I guess," I conceded, "but I just could not stop jerking myself off, so staying in church was pointless." "Hmmm, so what is the longest you have remained pure?" I told her truthfully that several times in my life I had lasted twenty-one days without a hand-shandy, and then my body always reacted with an explosion that was actually painful. "I see," she gasped, "that's a big problem." "No, actually, it's only five and a half inches!" I quipped. She actually laughed and said, "Some women would be more than delighted with that; I have one lady in my congregation who confessed to buying a dildo as her husband only has four inches! She wanted to know if it was a sin, and I had to tell her that if her husband was using the dildo on her as part of their lovemaking then it is not a sin but if she is going solo, then it is." "Did she tell her husband about the dildo?" I enquired. "Oh goodness, I can't believe I told you that," she gasped. "How about that coffee?" I ventured. She sent me down the road for some biscuits and milk. I got double choc chip cookies and coconut rings. It is a long walk, but I made a point of hurrying. Upon my return, I could hear the sounds of water down the outside drain. I found the kitchen door unlocked and let myself in. I could hear a hair dryer upstairs. I sat myself down. She breezed in seconds later exactly dressed as before but unmistakeably fresher. "I didn't hear you come back so soon," she chirped. "Did you just take a shower?" I asked plainly. "Ummm, yes, very quickly." She blushed. I raised an eyebrow. I could guess why but she would never admit to it. She boiled the kettle and began to propose I talk to someone else. Some guy she knew. A Christian Psychologist. She quoted the admonition that there should not even be a hint of immorality in the churches. I bit my tongue, choosing not to complain about being given chapter and verse so late into our time together. We drank our coffee as the tension built. I had gotten her hot under the collar. That turned me on and she could see it in my jeans. Then a thought occurred to me. "You know I don't even know your name?" I said in a low voice. She chuckled and blushed, and said "I'm Katie, how d'ya do?" I grinned and told her my name, we even shook hands in a mock formal manner. I wanted to dig deeper into the reasons how and why she remembered me but I guessed I had better not go there for fear of not liking the answer. Not that I am insecure about my looks but I figure people remember you for being an Adonis or a freak... and I am no Adonis. But then she read my mind. She parted her gorgeous lips to speak, then hesitated with a breath, then began: "It's your eyes." "Pardon me?" "The reason I remember you from way back." "Wow!" was all I could manage. "I knew I was gay from a very young age, but sometimes a man can look at me and I just like the way he looks at me. Not in a leering, lustful, animal way but a puppy-dog look of longing. A sweet and innocent look that says, "you are amazing," or, "you really are beautiful!" you know what I mean?" I nodded. "And you looked at me like that a couple of times, it was nice." "So, can you honestly tell me you have never been sexually aroused by a man?" "I hadn't ever," she whispered conspiratorially, pausing for full impact, "until today!" I was rock hard. Here I was with a gorgeous lady Vicar who had never been intimate with a man before and, who was now admitting to having feelings for me. "You know damned well I am going to totally try and get that Cassock off one way or another and take you upstairs." "No, because I am insisting you leave now." There was terror in her voice. I reached for her cordless handset and passed it to her. "Call the Police, coz I don't want to leave just yet." "I am asking you nicely," she began. "I am asking YOU nicely!" I retorted. "I made a vow to God." "Based on what you knew at that time in your life. God knows we are weak. That is why there is grace. I would rather face my death having lived a lifetime of honesty, than to die regretting all the opportunities for pleasure I denied myself in the hope of getting a better place in Heaven." She shook her head firmly, "This is Satan talking. Eve was fooled by the snake because of her curiousity for knowledge. Some things are best left untouched and unknown." "The Real Adam and Eve were African, they would have eaten the snake. It is just a story!" I tried to joke. She did not laugh. I had to repair the damage from that flippant remark: "Okay, sorry, I understand. But the whole point of the Bible is that we cannot be perfect and that is why we need God. God does not wish to deny anyone happiness. God INVENTED sex for OUR pleasure. He invented the orgasm, not Satan. Satan merely gets us addicted to pleasures that should be moderated or confined within the right context." "There is this thing called Marriage. A beautiful and holy invention of God's that I believe in and THAT is the only context within which to enjoy sex!" "Then we should get married." I suggested. "Yeah, right, and that would make me homeless and jobless!" I looked at her incredulously. She amazed me even further by actually apologising for that remark. "What I meant was... look, I don't quite know how or why I have feelings for you but, I am not willing to throw away my integrity on one impulsive day. I have responsibilities." "Yeah, now let's take a look at those, shall we?" I teased, "Later today you are going to sprinkle water on a baby's head? That's not Biblical and you know it! You are in a spiritually dead denominational institution that tolerates every kind of hypocrisy, and does not follow the Bible anyway!" She conceded that this was true but defended herself admirably, justifying the rituals as being culturally very English, and important to some in identifying themselves as English; and having Englishness. "A christening is a huge big deal to families, and it brings people together so it cannot be a bad thing." she finished off. By these arguments I could check the temperature of her faith, her level of wisdom and her genuine Bible knowledge all in one. She could be won over! "Right," I nodded, "and sex outside of marriage is indeed wrong but as a lesbian you cannot risk marrying a guy and then finding out you are unable to enjoy sex with him when it is too late. So you keep yourself in a daft Catch 22 situation and then occasionally jazz yourself in the shower? Yup, that sounds like a great way to live your life!" She looked at me like I had smacked her in the mouth. I saw the kitchen clock was saying one o'clock. I figured I had no chance of getting into her knickers now. I was about to be proven wrong. "Kiss me." she demanded. I obeyed, applying my lips to hers, massaging them with mine. She led me upstairs to her bedroom. It contained a single bed and two wardrobes. There was a small desk with a laptop also. Nothing else. She removed her cassock and collar, revealing only a black sport's bra and panties underneath. I was amazed. She just stood there, wanting me to do the rest. We were both trembling. I was genuinely terrified but exhilarated. I kissed her passionately. Hungrily. I wanted her so bad I thought I might simply explode in my jeans. She sensed my urgency and touched my groin. "Don't!" I pleaded. "I want to go down on you. That's all." "Are you sure you don't want me to wank you off first?" she offered. I figured if I blew my load first it might clear my head so I agreed. She ordered me to sit on her bed and then thoughtfully, she sat next to me and used her right hand in almost the position I would do myself. Very clever, I thought. Within seconds I was spraying her bedding and carpet with my seed. I let out a groan. "That didn't take long, eh?" she said. I apologised. She told me it was a compliment to her that I was obviously very hot for her. I kissed her, she reached behind her back and undid her own bra so that when I pulled away it fell to the floor revealing the most perfect tits ever. She grinned, "you like?" I nodded and pressed her to the bed, covering her from the neck down with butterfly kisses. I gently kneaded her boobs and licked the nipples to and fro. I worked out the left was more sensitive than the right so I did the full works on the right one first. Then I teased and licked her left nipple. She began moaning and placed her own right hand between her legs, a slight rasping sound, like wet fingers on pubic hair. I pulled away briefly, looked her in the eyes and, kissed my way to her left hip, then across her tummy, yanking her fingers out of her panties and licking them clean. "You taste delicious!" I growled, and moved up to kiss her lips. She smiled at the taste of herself. Sensing her urgency I tugged her panties off and dived in. Judging by the way she had used her fingers I opted for hard and fast, building up to maximum pressure with my tongue and introducing my fingers as well. For maybe five minutes or more (you lose track of time) I was concentrating hard on thrusting two fingers up her cunt, pressed against her front wall, whilst licking and sucking her clit in an initially gentle and then gradually harder and rougher fashion. At one point she shouted "That's it! Like that!" and then: "A bit faster! I beg you!" Easy like Saturday Morning Ch. 02 I looked at my phone as it started buzzing at 17.59hrs, the ringtone was on loud as well: "Remember this aria?" Says Jennifer Beale's character, the faint strains of opera in the background. "Oh," says Leisha Hailey's character thoughtfully, "You mean our third date? When you finger fucked me at the Opera? Before telling me you didn't think we were right for each other? And then there was this straight girl you might fall in love with? No, I don't remember a thing!" I picked up the phone and hit ACCEPT with a grin. I love my ringtone so much I can still let it play through even if I am next to the phone and really want to talk to the person calling. "Hi Katie!" I greeted her warmly, still grinning. "Did I catch you at a bad time?" "Not at all! How was the Christening?" I enquired politely. "Usual affair of tears, vomit, screaming and so on. The sprog was rather cute but I had to check my notes to remember her name!" I chuckled and wondered if this was a good time to have The Talk, and cover issues of contraception and children. As usual Katie seemed to read my mind and beat me to it: "That reminds me!" She began in a very grand drawling voice, "If you got me pregnant today I would be truly up a creek without a paddle. Do you have any thoughts about that?" "You climbed on me, I only wanted to perform oral on you. I can sell you a paddle, then we're evens." I joked. "Funny!" She growled, "But seriously? What are your thoughts on contraception?" We went into a long discussion about our moral standings and our feelings. Our feelings about each other as well as our feelings about what we like and don't like sexually. Neither of us wanted kids, but neither of us liked messing around with condoms or popping pills or getting injections... I suggested she use the morning after pill as a one-off and we stick to oral sex until the wedding, then discuss our options later on. "That's unrealistic." She insisted. "Why?" I said carefully, totally unsure what she meant by this. "I have fallen in love with your cock!" She announced. I almost dropped the phone. "Wow!" was all I could manage. She giggled like a school girl. "Aren't we naughty?" "Does the bad girl need a spanking?" I teased. "Never tried it, but we can get a list of things to do for the wedding night...make it special? That's assuming we make it down the aisle together?" "I was kidding. But I am glad you are open minded about exploring stuff together. I reckon I have found a best friend at the very least so no matter what happens in the getting-to-know-you process I reckon we have a solid foundation." "I'm glad you feel that way too... so anyway, what's for dinner?" "Oh..." I checked the time. We had been talking for almost an hour. I had not booked a restaurant or anything. "I can afford maybe a Chinese down the road, or I can come to your place and cook for you?" "Okay! What are you cooking for me?" "What do you like?" "What's your specialty?" She shot back. "Tuna and fusilli pasta with peanut butter, corriander, tarragon, ginger and a dash of mayo and ketchup." "Wow!" she breathed, "That sounds amazing! Bring the tarragon and the tuna, I have everything else here!" I raced to the nearest Spar and then ran over to her place. It occurred to me that we would probably say Grace before eating, and would that seem hypocritical? I mean, you fuck a Minister of Religion who has been celibate for ten years, is it then rude to thank God for the food you are eating? Or is that still a nice thing to do? I kept my worries to myself and enjoyed the ego trip of having bagged a hot lesbian's virginity and then having the chance of a romantic evening together as well the same day. I knocked on the front door. A text message made my pocket buzz. I pulled the phone out and opened the SMS. It said "Round the back!" So I walked around to the kitchen door and let myself in as casually as possible. "Howdi neighbour" she chirped in a jokey yokel accent. "Now then!" I responded adopting the same accent. She grinned. "SO, Chef? What are we doing?" "We are boiling some water and chopping some spring onion first" "Don't have any spring onions" she shot back. I opened my mouth to ask why she said she had everything else and then realised I had forgotten to list that in my specialty dish on the phone, so I merely said, "OK, that part is optional, but we need to get the tarragon, ginger and water boiling, then add the pasta, then the salt later." Katie showed me where everything was and then sat at the breakfast bar and told me to get on with it. I proceeded to frantically prepare everything, sieving the tuna, talking her through every step of my recipe, explaining all the whys and whats... then we started talking about our families, our backgrounds, our upbringings. Her dad had been a great cook, so for her this was a reassuringly familiar thing to watch a man at work over a hot stove. I asked her what happened to him. She told me he died of AIDS caught from his gay lover, after a long battle with HIV that ended two years ago. I almost dropped the bowl I was holding. "I'm kidding! Mum and Dad live in Kent and are very happy together!" She guffawed. I shot her a curious glance and went for the obvious question: "Why do you refer to him in the past tense?" "They disowned me when I came out to them fifteen years ago after years of subtle hints that they wanted me to find a nice boy to settle down with. By being with you I have an opportunity to repair my relationship with my family. So - I guess - one door closes and another door opens. I may have to leave the Church but I can get a teaching job and get to make peace with Mum and Dad before they pop their clogs." I put down what I was doing and stepped over to her and kissed her passionately. This was no spontaneous fling, she had really thought things through. Had I seduced her or had she allowed herself to be seduced? More the latter I supposed. "Make love to me." She breathed, tears streaming down her cheeks. I was not really in the mood but figured this was a direct order from the woman I had agreed to marry. The Bible teaches a man cannot deny his wife Sex and a wife cannot deny her husband Sex, but most people skip that part. I reasoned in my mind I had better do as I was told, for fear of eternal damnation. I reached under her T shirt, as usual she was wearing a sports bra that I had no idea how to unhook from my position. I moved around the back to kiss her neck and shoulders before helping her remove her T shirt. I gently unclasped her bra and kissed the top of her spine, then reached around to cup her breasts in my hands whilst continuing to plant soft kisses over her neck and shoulders and back. "Just FUCK ME NOWWWWW FOR GOD SAKE!" She howled. I spun her round on the breakfast bar stool with her back to the Ikea table top and stood in front of her. I judged the height and ripped my shirt off, bunching it together with her T shirt to make a pillow, then placing it behind her for her shoulders to lean back against. I tugged her jeans off with her help and threw her legs over my shoulders. I was finally aroused enough to unzip myself but felt I needed more foreplay. Ironic how with women I am the one needing more foreplay whilst they are usually ready to go. I offered to use my fingers to which she replied, "I am not marrying you for your finger-fucking skills, good as they are, I want your manly heterosexual cock inside me!" With that kind of desperation in her voice I obeyed and tugged her knickers as far as her thighs and slid inside her. "OH! Hold it in there! Need to take my knickers off!" She almost yelled. She stretched her legs up above both our heads and we slid her underwear all the way up her impressively long and shapely limbs. She still had her white socks on as she rested her legs back over my shoulders and settled into position. "Fuck me now! Hard and fast!" She bellowed. I obeyed, grabbing the worktop behind her to bear some of my weight and ramming my throbbing meat deep into her love tunnel. She was determined to be the noisiest fuck in history and I was in no mood to steal her crown. I used a variety of thrusting techniques whilst mostly leaning forward on tip toes, my hips slamming against her arse cheeks. I was worried about ejaculating too soon so I allowed my gaze to settle on the saucepan that was now about to boil dry. I had neglected to turn the gas hob off. That took my pleasure level down a notch, but then she grabbed my face in her hands and pulled me towards her for a kiss, then realising her legs were in the way. We both laughed. Quick as a flash she pulled her legs down, let me slide out of her, then stood up, shakily. "Turn the hob off and then see if you are strong enough to carry me upstairs on your cock!" I turned off the gas and allowed her to jump up on me and wrap her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist... she used her fingers to get my hardness back into her softness. Things were so wet and slippery down there I wasn't sure if I was genuinely in her vagina or just body rubbing against her outer genitalia. It felt good so I was not complaining. Mercifully she was light enough to carry up the first three steps, then we ended up simply fucking on the staircase, me on top of her, her legs around my waist. Kissing passionately as we fucked. I shot my load inside her but did not announce it and waited for her to spot it... she was gushing so much I guess she did not feel my cum go off inside her. I was able to stay hard enough to keep thrusting so I kept going and found a second wind. Merely by staring at my penis sliding between her soaking wet lips got me hard again, that and the sight of those delicious breasts and those amazing eyes so full of desire for me. She came. It happened in a long series of spasms and whimpers. She convulsed countless times and her juices flowed like a river down our legs. I slowed my thrusts right down. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and a beautiful smile lit up her face. We kissed and then she told me I could stop if I wanted. Her body was still trembling. I pulled out reluctantly and was grateful to see her pounce on my member and start licking her juices off my shaft. She told me she had never given a blow job before. "You just remember that my fingers and thumb usually do the work" I suggested. "That helps!" she chuckled. I was turned on by her obvious enjoyment of tasting herself. I can even enjoy watching a woman picking her nose and eating her bogies. Any moment of a woman enjoying her own body and her own fluids is something that gets me off. Katie hungrily licked and sucked and devoured me. I closed my eyes and imagined us in church together Sunday morning, and her announcing "Today's Sermon is about cocksucking." and proceeding to invite me up to the stage to perform in front of the congregation. I opened my eyes to see her sat awkwardly on the stairs, leaning forward to take as much of my length as she could into her gorgeous mouth. With my hands on the banister I braced myself and released the second coming into her mouth, right down the back of her throat. My balls ached as they emptied out completely... I was truly spent for the day. I carried Katie up the stairs, or rather, I lifted her up and let her put most of her weight on me as we climbed. We got to her room and flopped on the bed, squished together in the small space. We fell asleep together and woke up with our skin glued to one another from the sweat. We showered together and had a midnight dinner of cold tuna pasta and red wine. I suggested she come to mine as I at least had a bed settee that folded out as a comfortable double. We walked in the cool night air. Her hand found mine and clasped it. "You know I really do love you" I told her, my voice low, my tone thoughtful. "I should hope so. I am risking losing everything if you don't!" She replied. We went to bed to sleep. I resurfaced from the land of nod after five hours of deep and dreamless sleep. I turned and studied the nude form next to me. The way her breasts rose and fell as she snored, the way her nostrils flared with each breath, the way she mumbled incoherently. Her skin felt amazing. Her fuller figure had shape in all the right places; every curve was magnificent. Her blonde triangle was, I guessed, natural and untrimmed, yet still not as much a fur burger as a brunette would be. I had bagged a good catch and had no intention of letting this one go. It was an especially delicious pink taco because mine was the only cock that had been inside it. I began to caress and nibble at her hip and thigh on my side of the bed. She stirred but her eyes remained closed. I gently ran the tip of my tongue from side to side, effectively tracing a line up and down the length of her hairy canyon. I delicately passed the tip across her already prominent clit and she began breathing heavier. Using my left arm to hold my weight off her and my right elbow, I managed to slide two fingers inside her and apply pressure to her front wall, effectively tickling her tummy from the inside, whilst getting a rhythm going with my mouth organ. Before long she was awake and whispering to me to keep going and to not stop under any circumstances. I did not need to be told this...I mentally steeled myself for the long haul and kept working, desperate to give her another orgasm. She bucked and convulsed and projectile-ejaculated all down my right arm again and again and again. I waited for her to give me permission to pull away, in the end she grabbed me by the hair and yanked me up towards her face to kiss me. "Good morning darling! Are you ready for breakfast? Or have you already eaten enough?" I grinned and told her I needed a cup of tea and some eggs on toast, but I could do them, and how did she like her eggs. "Unfertilized!" She quipped. "But I have to be in work for 8am so I cannot get to a chemist before 2pm, and most are closed on Sunday!" "Uh oh." I breathed. I suggested I ring round a few places or check the internet or even call NHS Direct first for a list of places open supplying emergency contraception on a Sunday. "Sure, it's the least you could do hun, but thank you for taking our responsibilities seriously!" I shot her a look - a brief flash of anger - and then controlled myself. Why do women have to be such bitches? I mean, I had offered my tongue to the woman and she was the one who had demanded my dick on several occasions in the last twenty-two hours that she and I had properly known each other. I am delighted to know that I can eat cunt as well as any woman can eat another woman. But geez, a bit of appreciation would be nice that instead of completely shrugging off responsibility I was prepared to spend a morning finding somewhere she and I could get the morning after pill for a Sunday afternoon. She looked at me, studying my face. She looked at the carpet and said, "I would appreciate all the support you can give just now. Not only do I have to tell my congregation that I am quitting, I also have to confess to them that I have been sexually immoral with a man that I am hoping will make an honest woman of me; plus, I may have conceived and will then be terminating a potential life using modern drugs. "Okay okay!" I replied, trying to sound sympathetic, "I suggest I come to church to support you rather than staying here and finding a Sunday Pharmacy. And to heck with it, if God wants us to have a baby let him bless us with one and we will love it and raise it and be the most honest, non-hypocritical, wisest mum and dad on earth. I admire your integrity and balls going up there so soon. I would have left it a few weeks." "Thank you! That would mean so much to me!" She almost burst into tears. And so it was decided. To heck with the morning after pill... we would brace ourselves for the consequences. I got my best suit out and she got her notes together and went ahead of me to the church. I turned up later and sat in the back and then stood up on cue to be surrounded by a sea of stunned faces as she announced her wishes to step down. But then an amazing thing happened. An old lady stood and said, "Good for you my dear, thank you for your hard work as part of this community. I am happy for you." Another person said, "Here here!" Then the congregation applauded and people reached across to back slap me and shake my hand, and the place soon erupted into an emotional celebratory scene like a cheesy eighties movie... I climbed out of my pew and strolled to the front and hugged her as soon as she had finished shaking hands with people. She whispered, "I love you" and I returned to my seat. Communion went smoothly though I did not take it, and nor did she. Afterwards I caught up with her in the fellowship and whispered, "I want every inch of your body in my mouth as soon as humanly possible. Can we get out of here???" She took me by the hand, grinned, said a few g'byes to people and dragged me to hers. We had a wedding to plan and a job to find for her, but for now we were content to lose ourselves in each other. The taste, smell and feel of each other. Easy like Saturday Morning She ejaculated so hard I thought she had peed herself for a split second. But no, this was not regular juices, this was proper girl-cum. I crawled up her body, kissed her lips and lay beside her. She leaned over and kissed me back. Then she really surprised me. She commented on how the bed was too small for both of us and climbed on top and straddled me, impaling herself on my hard but slightly numb dick. My juices mingled with hers and I slid in easily. I looked at her stunned. "In for a penny, in for a pound," was all she said. She closed her eyes and rocked and grinded herself on my cock. I just lay back and watched her. We lasted like this a long time. She orgasmed again, and this time was very loud about it. I was nowhere near climax, but suddenly we noticed the time. It was almost 2.30pm. She jumped out of bed, yelled "arrrrrrrggghhhh!" and ran to the shower. I wanted to chase after her and was thinking: "Finish me off bitch!" I got dressed, although I have no memory of how I had UNDRESSED, but certainly I had gotten naked at some point. I called after her into the bathroom "Can I buy you dinner tonight?" "That would be lovely!" She shouted, "Leave your number in the kitchen by the phone, to get my number flash-call your mobile from mine and save it. See yourself out. I'll call you around six, or call me after then even if I am still wrapping up." "Okay," I called, and then in a low voice said more to myself than anyone, "Hey, God - I just fucked your daughter!" "What was that?" she shouted. "Oh my God I need a drink of water!" I called out.