0 comments/ 9187 views/ 0 favorites Pastoral By: Vayene I was dreaming; a good dream this time. I walked tirelessly, surrounded by huge, huge trees, and I liked it. If nothing else, THAT would have tipped me off. I'm not a tree person. I do not leave the safety of paved roads, not willingly. The woods smelled good; clean, fresh and full of life. The ground underfoot was soft with leaf litter and moss, and the immense trees filtered the light, softening it, cooling it, making it easy for me to see. In fact, I could not remember it ever being so easy to see in full daylight in all my life. I made a note to my waking self, find a forest someplace a real one, with trees this big and see if it was still true. Meanwhile, I watched me as I walked under the trees, enjoying the sweet, soft air, the filtered light. There were no paths here, but the tree cover kept the bushes and undergrowth down, so walking was easy. Birds sang over my head, little animals scurried about. I could see squirrels, and I passed a dozing deer without disturbing it. I did not get tired as I walked. The sun slid up overhead, crested, and began the long slide down. The forest had no ending I could see, and my dreaming self agreed this was correct. I kept going. I felt no particular urgency in my trip; I'd arrive when I arrived. Idly, my dream self considered the coming night, assessing and dismissing probable sleep spots. This one was too exposed, that one would not protect against rain, the next was too rocky, another was too close to water. In my dreams these decisions came easily; as did others. I had a backpack; a lantern, a couple of torches, some cooked food, a cloak. I was not carrying water, did not plan to make a fire, but I had passed streams, and there was a river not far away if I needed water. I marveled as I went, amazed and impressed at how easy being in the woods seemed to be. I noted a laurel hell, the plants old, the stalks thick and strong with age, the foliage so thick the ground in the heart of the hell was dry. This, I thought, looked ideal. The tightly woven branches meant I need not worry about large predators, and I was too large for the smaller ones to care about. The tangle was dense, but I rather doubted rabbits or other small prey would find it to be enough protection, so I expected to have the space to myself. Accordingly I wiggled and twisted my way into the heart of the thicket. I ate a bite of my food, licked my fingers and wrapped my cloak securely around me. I curled up small, a tight, contented ball, and let sleep take me. Of course, I was still watching. I saw as my sleeping self did not, that rabbits came and snuggled close A fox wandered in and the rabbits scattered. It did not chase them; instead it curled up close, and some kind of large, striped cat came and snuggled in at my back. I slept, unaware, but warm. The stars wheeled overhead, the moons rose, their cool light filtered by the thick leaves of my shelter. It did not rain. The night grew still. The cat at my back woke abruptly, then ran. The fox did the same, baring its teeth before it made its stiff-legged retreat. I had not wakened at their arrival, I did not wake as they left. The ground before me heaved up, like a molehill rising, but bigger, bigger until it broke surface. A spine, the vertebrae dark as onyx, and then the shoulder. It heaved itself out of the ground, black, skeletal, no clothes, no flesh. Two bone hands pressed on the ground as it pushed itself up and free of the clinging earth. The thin moonlights washed over it, making it shine. Still, I did not waken. I was afraid, very afraid, I had to wake, to run, to escape the thing heaving itself up out of the ground like a swimmer rising from a pool. I did everything I could to wake me, I opened my eyes wide, I pinched me, but my hands had no substance, my voice made no sound.. I could not move, I knew it, but I did not know why. It had been human, and large, much larger than I. It stared down at me, and even in all my clothing, wrapped up in a heavy cloak, even so, I looked tiny as I lay at its feet. It was impossible to read an expression on stone-black bone. It opened its mouth, and all of its teeth were intact, ordinary teeth, human, flat. It said, "You came to me." How could it speak with no lungs, no tongue, no lips, how could it? I donÕt know. I don't know, but it did. It did, and even that did not wake me. It stooped, reached into the ground at its feet and pulled chains up, old, dark, weighted with years, I watching, knew they were time as much as they were metal. By now, I was awake, awake, but still unable to move so much as a muscle to save myself. I could only watch as it secured me to the earth. I could not fight, could not object, could only move as it pulled my limbs and fastened the chains to my wrists and my ankles. They burned. Iron always burns me, it always has. Its feet sank into the ground a little. Some crumbs of dirt fell over the foot bones. Suddenly, flesh began wrapping itself around the feet and up the legs. Well, not so much flesh as muscle, sinew and skin. It covered the bones, but did not look any better. He, not it, he. and his manhood jutted from between his legs like a weapon. He stood over me, bright pinpoints of light gleaming in the depths of his eye sockets, his mouth spread in a smile no one could call reassuring. I fought the chains, struggled to free my hands, my feet. the iron bit into me, a dull, burning annoyance, and I felt no hint of give. He bent and slid one massive hand under my waist, then he lifted. My body bent like a bow, the chains pulling me back to the ground, forcibly stretching me. I might have been made of feathers for all the effort he exerted in lifting me. with his free hand, his right hand, he stroked himself, getting bigger, thicker, too big for me to even contemplate. I struggled and he laughed. He slid two fingers inside me, hard, unyielding, then he laughed again. "You want this," he said, the words a low growl. He pulled me closer, pulling me onto his shaft, splitting me open on him. I could not scream. I could not breathe. He pushed deeper into me, forcing me t let him in, sliding deeper into me, opening me more. His hands gripped my hips, holding me suspended as he ravaged me. There was nothing in my world, just the sensation of him slamming me onto him over and over. He didn't tire, he didn't change. His hands bit into me, and the chains pulled me open. His eyes blazed, I could see them even with my own eyes shut. My wrists burned, my ankles were in agony, and I didn't care, All I really knew was his pounding, driving rod, splitting me open again and again. Pleasure roared through me, shocking me. He growled and the burning in my wrists and ankles eased. Bone, the shackles changed from iron to bone. I stared in horror, still watching. I was aroused as I watched myself be taken, aroused and horribly embarrassed. He lifted his head and stared over my body into my eyes. Mine, where I watched the dream as it unrolled. "Mine now," he told me, and he thrust into me harder. I felt him, both the me in the dream, and the me watching, felt him take possession. I moaned, jerking in his grip, convulsing as he filled me. When I woke, the chains were gone. He was gone. I felt sore, my body tender and abused. There were birds singing, and the sun was just peeking into the laurels. I watched me get up and look around, puzzled. There was no sign anything had happened. I wiggled out of the thicket an to the nearest stream. I washed the sleep from my eyes, and pulled off my boots to rinse my feet. My right ankle had black marks, so I washed it carefully. The marks didn't come off, so I dried my feet and put my boots back on. The dream shifted then, the ways dreams can, and became less coherent. I woke up for real, in my own bed, curled on my left side, just the same as always. I crawled out of the bed and padded into the bathroom to clean up. I stared down at my right ankle in horror. A chain had been tattooed there, a chain of bone. Pastoral Care When I was 17 I developed a huge crush on one of my teachers. She taught me psychology, and she wasn't very old, almost fresh out of University, and had all the right curves etc. I had a brother and sister to get through the school, so even on the last day of my school career I didn't do anything about it. 10 years later we had a school reunion. The entire L6 of my year came together to catch up and reminisce. "Miss Taylor" was doing the drinks at one end of the theatre we were using. I went over, said "hi" asked how she was, whether she ever got married etc. (no she hadn't). In rather a drunken stupor (turned out she'd been drinking more than giving drinks out), I told her that when I'd been in her psychology class, I couldn't stop staring at her, she had the most voluptuous and beautiful breasts in a tracksuit top I'd ever seen. She laughed, and said she'd noticed that I hadn't stopped staring at her. She asked me what I'd been doing since I left school, and I lied, I told her I'd become a high rise exec. And that we were planning an experiment to test interaction- based on a psychological principle we'd studies back then all those years ago. She seemed intrigued and I asked her whether she'd like to try it for herself. She said "yes" We took a walk outside back to her old classroom, making idle chat, while I asked stupid questions such as whether she still had her old classroom, or whether the German department had eaten that up, and whether she enjoyed teaching and if she remembered how we never talked about psychology, but always about film during her lessons. When we got to her classroom, I told her that it was imperative we follow standardised instructions. First close all the curtains. Second lock the door, so there could be no outside interference. Third get a candle and fourth make yourself comfortable. I relished with glee that she had on the same top she always used to teach us in under her sparkling sequin coat which she took off. I lit a candle on the teacher's desk and went over to the chair where she was sitting and asked her if she was sitting comfortably. She responded that she was and I leant in and gave her a soft kiss parting her soft lips with my tongue and delving around in her mouth. We kissed for about a minute, before I started to try and take her top off. The zip came undone easily enough, and with effort, we both managed to shrug it off. "Do you know?" I mouthed, "I want you, have wanted you since L6" "I know, you've grown up so well, I won't …" I cut her off kissing her again, before removing my mouth from hers, blowing lightly on her ears, and kissing her neck hungrily and moving down to her bra, which with difficulty and a few laughs came unhinged at last to unveil those breasts. Bigger than I dared imagine, and I knew that they had to go into my mouth. I took each one separately gently biting the nipple, and swirling each part of the breast around in my mouth, and kissed each one delicately, treating it as though it were sacred. Then my mouth moved down to the black 'pants' she always wore, which were shaken off much easier, to reveal a pair of black sating knickers. These were dispatched after I had lifted her onto the desks that we had used to write on, and on the edge of the desk, between her legs I pulled these knickers down to reveal her bush. I wasn't really attracted to it orally, so she helped me unbuckle my trousers and boxers until she was naked and I bottomless. At which point I bent down and kissed her and then inserted my shaft into her. As she was lying down on the table it was easy to pump her, so I grabbed her sides at her breast regions, cushioning her, and began to move my once teacher now lover up and down on the desk, moans escaping each of our mouths from time to time. I got rougher with her, then became gentler bending over every once in a while to kiss and caress her until I picked up the pace again, blowing my load inside her. I then picked her up again, gingerly and lay down myself on the desk, with her on me missing her at the same time as bucking my hips and pushing into her, and we came simultaneously that time, our juices mixing in a warm squelching torrent, cum spilling steaming onto the desk. "This isn't going to work" she said, and pulled herself up, so she was on her knees, the allowed me a better grope of her tits and though our torso's weren't touching this time, I could still taste and feel her sweat. She went onto her knees, and placed her hands behind my head, pulling me up into her breasts and bucking my dick higher into her. She also tasted some of our juices on the table. At last I rolled away, after spilling more than my fair share and we fell to the floor with a thud. I took her from behind, still in her cunt, but with my blue shirt on her back, groping her tits. Rythmically I began again. After she came at least 3 times more, she stopped us, and her hair a mess, began to straighten herself out. "That was great, really, you're a handsome chap, but you and I… it's not right, 6 or so years is a larger gap than you think… and besides there's another woman back in the theatre who wants you… and you want her too don't you?" "How do you know?" "Psychology isn't all theoretical- she could really be yours if you act like the alpha male. Don't miss you're opportunity with her." "But Miss Tay…." "No buts… what we had was special, but it was only sex. Nothing more" So feeling spurned and rejected I made my way back to the reunion hall, feeling desolate but with a glimmer of hope for the rest of my life. Pastoral Visit I love sex and I make no apologies for it. I love sex to the point that if it were possible I think I would spend much of my time engaged in it. All right, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but you can see what I'm getting at. Since my very first time with the choir master of a church choir that in youth I sang with I've sought sex with any man I fancied. I'm not going to be modest about it; as some of the men have remarked, I've got the body of a love goddess, a Venus, an earth mother. Those are just some of the comments I have received so I don't have a problem getting any man I fancy. I'm fairly tall; five feet ten to be exact. I can't say that facially I'm pretty or beautiful, but my face has a sensual look about it, with soft full lips, and slightly upturned nose with flaring nostrils, and very dark blue eyes, and my hair is flame colour and curly. As one guy said, "You look like some wild animal stalking its victim." My figure is full with large, very large, breasts, that despite my two breast fed children were still quite firm with long pink nipples. My legs are long and strong, and the men love to feel them wrapped round them, even though I've nearly broken a few backs. I kept my genitals free of pubic hair so that the guys could see what they're getting and it didn't get in the way when they' had oral sex with me. Some of them didn't like oral sex but I made them have it with me whether they liked it or not, it was one of my conditions for them copulating with me. Here's a tip for you ladies who might be interested in expanding your sex lives. I've noticed that a lot of the straight laced, prune faced ladies douse themselves with heavy perfume, deodorant or scented soap. I use only the mildest smelling soap and allow my female fragrance to float free. That gets a lot of guys interested. That's another thing; I'm totally uninhibited when it comes to the sex act. Oral, vaginal, anal sex; having the guy shoot his load between my breasts or anywhere else he fancies, is okay with me just so long as he makes me come in the end. I also like having children and never feel better and more randy than when I'm pregnant. That said, my wimp of a husband went and had a vasectomy. He didn't want to have any more children, but what he didn't realise was, he'd never had any children. The two I'd got were from other men and he never suspected. When he had the vasectomy I was placed in a difficult position. If I got pregnant again he'd have to know it wasn't by him, so I had to surreptitiously keep myself on the pill. Poor Sam; right from the start he hadn't been able to cope with me. He's an accountant and I met him when I worked as a clerk in his office. From the moment I began work I could see he fancied me, but then most guys do. The trouble was, he was like the proverbial flea who, finding itself on an elephant, knew what it had to do but didn't know where to begin. So I showed Sam where to begin one evening after work on the office floor. The one thing above all that he and every guy I've been with appreciated the most, is the grip and suck of my vaginal muscle. I gather from what has been said that most women have flaccid vaginal muscles, but mine can suck the juice out of a guy and don't they yell when I grip them! Sam was really smitten and since at the time I was looking for some financial security, and he was doing all right, when he asked me to marry him I said yes. I knew at the time he'd never be able to satisfy me sexually, but that was okay because I knew I could get what I needed by other means. I suppose by now you'll be thinking I'm a first-class bitch, a rampant raging nymphomaniac, and everyone must have known what I'm like, but it wasn't quite like that. As I said, I love sex and I also like guys to enjoy my body, but not just any guys; I chose who I let into paradise rather carefully. I've always been a very good and virtuous church lady, doing the flowers and polishing the communion table and all that. The guys I chose to copulate with we're all nice, respectable church men. They wanted me but they also want to go on looking respectable, and that made it safe. They were unlikely to go around saying, "Oh, by the way, I'm fucking Jessie," (that's me). Another thing is, they came to me from their dull and droopy wives who probably let them fuck them once a month, so when they did come to me they were really hot and rearing to go. I know some women think that guys who are all muscle, tattoos and smell of sweat are the really hot prospects, but don't you believe it. It's those pillars of the church, mild looking and highly regarded who really come on strong once you've broken through their inhibitions. I could give them all the things they've ever dreamed of, and some things they hadn't dreamed of. Another thing is, I'd nearly always had four or five guys on the go, so I was careful to space them out so they never clash. Each of them thought they were the only one, but as you will realise, just like Sam no one of them could satisfy me in the way I needed to be satisfied. So, to sum up, they kept me gratified and I kept them happy. Now you may be wondering about love. I know that some people think that love and sex go together. I can't say I loved the guys I had sex with. I liked them and wanted to please them, but I hadn't come across one for whom I'd leave Sam and fly with to distant places. Sometimes they imagined themselves in love with me but like most guys that was usually before and during coitus; once they'd shot their load they tended to want to be up and away, and just so long as they'd made me come, that was fine with me. I didn't need them hanging around – well I needed Sam to hang around because he brought home the money. If you're feeling sorry for Sam, then let me point out that I kept the home neat and tidy, cooked good meals and he got the little sex he wanted. Above all he had nice fresh bed sheets to climb into because we only had one double bed and I didn't want there to be any signs of my romantic activities. Just as well I had a good washing machine. Now part of the problem with my sexual mode of life was timing. All the guys I enjoyed myself with had to go to work and found it hard to get time off during the day for frolicking. One of them, a bank manager, was ok, since he could go out occasionally to "see a client," and another was a self-employed plumber who took time off to visit me. But with the others it could be difficult. Sam invariably went out to the football on Saturday afternoons so that was free except for the children. With them I'm dependent on my mother having them for the afternoon or the knowledge that they are playing with some of the neighbour's kids and hopefully wouldn't come busting in unexpectedly. I can tell you there were a few frustrating occasions when the children were hanging around the house while I'd got a potential lover waiting to enter into bliss and the kids just wouldn't go away. We usually had to end up having a quick stand-up coupling while I watched what the kids were doing in the garden through a window. That's one of the hazards you have to expect if your life-style was like mine, but I've always dreamed of finding someone I fancied who was free to visit any time. I didn't expect the dream to come true but eventually it did. We had a new minister appointed to our congregation. He took my fancy as soon as I met him. Tall, very good-looking, and ebullient, if you know what I mean; above all, he was unmarried and his name was David; looking at him I could see why Goliath succumbed so easily. I'd never enjoyed a member of the clergy and didn't expect to, but fate can sometimes take a hand. Two events took place that coming together made for a happy outcome. First, the then secretary of the congregation retired, and since no one else seemed to want the task and I'd had clerical experience, I took it. Second, one day I'd driven into my driveway and was in a hurry to get into the house. Foolishly in slamming the car door somewhat energetically I had my hand so placed that it got crushed between door and doorframe. I sustained a broken finger and a badly bruised hand. Rumour being what it is word got round the congregation and in the process I was supposed to have practically severed my hand or arm off. A concerned young cleric was soon on my doorstep enquiring after my well being. He came in; I displayed my battle wounds and made a cup of tea. While he was there we discussed the secretarial work and I realised that the job would entail considerable contact with the minister. Some people consider that clergymen are sexual neuters, or if they aren't they have to behave as if they are. Like most guys I could see that he was interested in me since his eyes kept roaming to my breasts and legs. I was only wearing a short skirt and flimsy top with no bras at the time, so there was a fair bit for him to see. It was amusing in a way because he kept trying to drag his eyes away, but they kept coming back. Whatever else he was, he wasn't a neuter, nor from what I could tell was he gay. He was just twenty five and a real hunk and it wasn't long before his well cut grey ecclesiastical trousers could no longer hide signs of his proud manhood. As well as that he kept losing track of what we were talking about, and kept finding reasons to stay a little longer. I could see he wasn't going to be easy because apart from anything else, copulating with a member of his congregation, especially a married member, if discovered would quickly lead to his dismissal, unfrocking (what a tantalising thought), or transfer to a remote parish where he would never be heard of again. I was giving him all the come-on I could; you know, leaning forward so he could see my cleavage, sitting near him on the divan so I could touch him as if emphasising some point in the conversation, and even letting my thigh glue to his occasionally. I'll say this for him, he was resolute. His face had turned pink and he was trembling and desperately trying to control it. I'd seen too many guys in this situation not to be able to read the signs. In the meantime I'd got worked up myself. Not that this was unusual because I'm sexually ready most of the time. My clitoris was throbbing, I was lubricating, and if I'd been wearing something like shorts he must have seen a wet patch in the crotch. I wasn't sure how good he was at reading the signs of female arousal, but if he had any experience at all he would have noticed that my nipples were standing out like ripe strawberries. I wanted him and was fairly sure I'd have him some time, but I have one golden rule I always stick to in these situations; I never make the first overt move. For all my teasing behaviour, no guy was ever going to be able to say that I'd seduced him; he had to make the first move. I didn't ask for much; a kiss; a hand laid on my breast or thigh, and I'd take it from there. But I got no such response from my pastoral visitor that day, but I knew how to wait. The poor guy, when he finally did leave he was in a hell of a state, and I conjectured he'd have to go home and masturbate half a dozen times to cool off. I'd got no other visitor coming to see me that day, so that night I was still so worked up, and after a lot of persuading, I got Sam to copulate with me. When he penetrated me it was like having a limp wet sausage pushed into me and it took all my powers of suction to get a dribble of sperm out of him. As you might guess it wasn't very satisfactory but it was better than nothing. As I said, I was fairy sure I had David and if he followed the usual pattern he would soon come calling again. I wasn't wrong but he came sooner than I expected, the next day in fact. Had he been half an hour earlier he would have met my bank manager making a deposit with me. I was in the process of removing the residue of this welcome deposit from my vagina when front door bell rang. I was still naked and had to fling on a handy housecoat to go and answer the door. There he stood, flushed and flustered, waving some papers in front of me and trying not to stutter. "I…er…I…I j-j-just thought I'd…er…see you about…about the…er membership…ah...roles, if it's…ah…convenient." I thought I'd give him a bit of encouragement, and inviting him into my lair I told him he would be welcome anytime. I didn't quite mean that because he might just arrive while I was copulating with one of his church elders, but I thought it was a good thing to say. I got him onto the divan again and made sure that the housecoat just happened to keep opening at the front and I had to keep adjusting it. That way I knew I would keep his focus on what I consider to be my most appealing feature, my breasts. It worked beautifully and in the end he just couldn't keep his eyes off them. He rambled on in his hesitant way for about ten minutes. It was clear that he had no real need to come and see me about the matter of the church roles. I knew I had him hooked and any time he would make a move. Once again I had to give him credit for his strength of will. It was not until the last moment he made the move. Despite the fact that I'd copulated and had an orgasm only a short while before, I was all worked up again. I tried my little allurements and still he made no attempt on me. I was getting desperate. He finally could find no further reason for staying longer and rose to leave. My female ego wasn't in good shape. I felt as if for once I had failed to get my man. It was at the front door, in the dim light of the hallway, he made his move. My hand was on the latch ready to reluctantly open the door when without a word he gave me a hasty kiss on the lips. It was no more than a peck, but it was sufficient. I let myself sway against him, looking at him adoringly. He was taller than me so I put my hand behind his head, swirling my moist lips over his and flicking them with my tongue. He moaned and said, "Oh God, Jessie, you've got such beautiful breasts." "Yes," I whispered close to his ear, "and the nipples are good for sucking." He groaned again and I pressed my belly against him, rotating my hips. I knew I had him; he wouldn't – couldn't – resist any longer. "Come with me," I whispered, and taking his hand led him back to the lounge and the divan. We sat down and I drew his hand inside my housecoat and pressed his fingers over my breast. I knew he wasn't going to be able to last long and I was aching to have him inside me, but I wanted to make good my boast. I opened the housecoat to expose both my breasts; the nipples were once more like firm pink strawberries. I raised one of the breasts to extend its nipple towards him and said, "You'll enjoy sucking me." I put my hand behind his head to encourage him, and drew his face to the breast. He took the nipple into his mouth and began to suck avidly, while his hand fondled my other breast. I didn't dare let him do this for too long in case he shot his load before he penetrated me. As gently as I could I removed him from my breasts and stood to remove my housecoat. As I stood naked in front of him I said, "It's only fair, you've got to undress too," and I removed his suit coat and began to get his shirt off. It was a bit of struggle because at the same time he was trying to help me, but we finally got there and I dragged his trousers and underpants off simultaneously. I was on my knees as I pulled his trousers down. I got them part way down and then stopped, taken aback for a moment. I'd heard of men being "hung like a stallion," but had never seen one until that moment. He had huge testicles and rearing up from them was the biggest male organ I had ever beheld. I've never actually measured them, but most of the male organs I'd experienced I'd guessed to be between four to six inches. The one now rearing up right in front of my face must have been eight or even nine inches in length, thick and with a purple head looking like one of those onion domes on an orthodox church. His whole shaft looked engorged with blood and I thought I could see it throbbing in time with his heart beat. From its urethra clear pre-cum was oozing and the whole head was shiny with it. I was tempted to engage in a favourite practice of mine and lick up the sticky fluid, but again I thought he might come while I was doing it, and I wanted the output of those massive testes to be inside me. Saying "Let me," I encouraged him to lie on the divan, and then I sat astride him. I had decided that if he was hung like a stallion I would ride him like one. Apart from anything else, I wanted to be in control as that huge phallus entered me, not being sure how much I could take. I poised my vaginal entrance over his shaft, the head just pressing against my inner labia, and then I slowly lowered myself onto him. As soon as he started to enter me he moaned, "Oh God, that's so beautiful." He was tight against the wall of my tunnel but there was no pain. I lowered myself slowly and just as I thought I couldn't take any more, I found I'd got his full length in me. I felt for his testes, and they were right up against my outer labia. They felt firm, as if full of his seed. I thought perhaps he hadn't masturbated the previous day after all and he'd saved it all for me. For all my sexual experience I had some things to learn about this guy. Assured that I got all of him in me I did my vagina clenching thing. David gave what sounded like the howl of a wounded animal and then cried out, "Oh my God, Jessie, that's fantastic, I've never felt anything like it before." I'd heard that cry before, but for good measure I gripped him a few more times dragging some very satisfying ecstatic cries from him. I was starting to make some ecstatic noises myself as I started to buck up and down on him. Secure in the knowledge that he wasn't going to do any damage to me with that mighty organ I let myself go. It didn't last for long; David gave a mighty "Yeeow," and his sperm, impelled by his mighty testes slammed into me. Almost simultaneously the orgasm that had been hanging threateningly over me hit like a pile driver and I was off somewhere in space, whirling around as coloured lights exploded in my head and electric shocks seemed to jolt my genitals. Someone was screaming and crying, and while I knew it was me, it didn't seem to be me. It felt as if David off-loaded a bucket full of sperm into me and as I finished I drooped over him so my breasts brushed against his chest. He didn't show any signs of wanting to disengage from me and I was in no hurry to lose him. He lay there fondling my breasts almost as if he hadn't just come into me, and he kept saying, "You were fantastic Jessie…fantastic…" I gathered from what he was saying that despite his clerical virtue there had been others and that he was making comparisons. I wasn't too disappointed because given the times we live in I could hardly have expected him to be a virgin at twenty five. In any case I was clearly being compared to my advantage, so that was okay. I was doing a bit of comparing myself and decided that his massive male organ would be welcome in my vagina any time. I wasn't too sure about my anus since I'd always been a bit tight there, but I thought we could experiment later with that. It was then I realised that my dream had come true. Here was a lover who would have legitimate reasons for calling on me in my role as church secretary almost any time. That of course raised the old problem of his arriving when I was entertaining another guy. I supposed that I would just have to not answer the door if he did come at such a time. At that moment I didn't know that the problem was to be solved in a way I never anticipated. It was about ten minutes since we had orgasmed together and to my amazement David began to raise and lower me on his penis. He was rock hard and ready to go. If I'd ever got a second round with any of the other guys I'd always had to wait for at least an hour or more before they could get it up again. Not that I'd had seconds very often since they were usually eager to go after the first time. Pastoral Visit Part way through this second time David managed to roll me over onto my back without his penis coming out of me; then he was pounding up and down in me and I was on the verge of coming again. My orgasm began to batter me before he ejaculated, so I was a screaming mess by the time he did come. We became a yelling tangle of arms and legs as we both struggled to get him into me as deep as possible. With each downward thrust I really did feel him pressing up against the end of my tunnel. I'd never experienced anything like it before. My tunnel was full of his sperm laced with my lubricant and I knew it must be running out of me onto the divan. He'd finished again and I was laying there in a sort of post coital daze. I naturally expected him to pull out of me this time, but he didn't. He was kissing me and playing with my breasts and – I could hardly believe it – he was getting hard again. I started to understand that I'd got myself a sexual Titan. I didn't have an orgasm this time, but was content to lay there and let him unload again. I'd never had the opportunity to do that before and it was wonderful, just relaxing and letting a man enjoy me. When he'd finished for a moment I thought he was still going to stay with me, but after a few moments he pulled out of me, giving a groan as his sensitive nerve tingling head came out of me. He flopped beside me, still playing with my breasts. After a while he started to ask, "You didn't mind me…you didn't mind me doing it more than…" "Anytime sweetheart," I said weakly, "anytime." To put it crudely, for the first time ever I felt as if I'd been well and truly fucked, and I'd loved it. For the moment he had completely satisfied me. We and the divan were a hell of a mess. As soon as he pulled out the sperm and lubricant came rolling out of me to join what had already been deposited on the divan. It took a while for me to overcome the lethargy the three couplings had engendered in me, but eventually I rallied and said, "We'll have to clean up, darling." I went to get off the divan and as soon as my legs took my weight they seemed to want to buckle under me. I felt weak and fragile and followed by David who on the contrary seemed to be very vigorous, I led the way to the shower. Of course we washed each other's genitals and I must say David was very careful as he removed the residual sperm and lubricant from my vagina. I washed his penis, and then the most astonishing thing of all happened. He'd come into me three times in quick succession, and now he took me again standing as he pressed me against the tiled wall of the shower. He almost had to carry me back to the lounge where I flopped down into a chair and gave David instructions on how to clean up the mess on the divan. If you've ever tried to remove a melange of sperm and lubricant from something you'll know how difficult it can be and it took him some time. When he'd finished there was a great wet patch, and I knew I'd have to get my hairdryer on it to try and dry it before Sam got home. Such are the perils of illicit sex. I felt so frail I was starting to regret I'd told him, "Anytime," and was actually feeling a bit apprehensive that he might want to take me again. I suppose I could have managed it if I'd just lain there and let him do it to me, but I felt definitely in need of a rest. He didn't try again and instead said, "I suppose I'd better go." I was torn between wanting to beg him not to go, and relief that I'd have time to recover before the kids got home from school. He dressed and I put on the housecoat again to see him to the door. When we got there he kissed me in such a way I thought, "Here we go again, he's going to do it to me here," but he didn't. Instead he said, "I've got some paper work I'd like to discuss with you tomorrow, if that's all right?" I did some quick thinking and remembered I wasn't expecting anyone the next day and said, "I'll look forward to that." Then he left. For about a minute I leaned against the wall. "Once with the bank manager and four times with David," I thought, "Jessie, you've surpassed yourself." It was the first time in my life that I'd ever felt completely sexually sated. The feeling of being sated didn't last for long. That's one of my troubles you see, I'm nearly always ready for sex in the sense that my vagina is most often wet with lubricant. By the time the kids got home I wanted David back again, and that was interesting because it wasn't any of the others I wanted, it was only David. Always before I didn't much care which of my lovers turned up, just so long as they fucked me, so this wanting one particular man was another first for me. That night Sam didn't want to insert his limp sausage into me which of course was usually the case, but I was glad because I might have had difficulty in playing pretends with him. I dreamed of David and what we would do the next day, and when I awoke I decided I'd do my little test piece on him. If he passed the test then I knew he would be the man for me. Sam left for work, then the kids went off to school, I showered and then the time seemed to drag. I'd actually started the day dressed quite respectably, but after a shower I decided on a loose negligee. I was ready and willing and didn't want to waste any time in getting down to business. I think that David had the same idea because when he arrived he was no longer wearing his suit and other bits and pieces. He was clad in a white open necked shirt, and cream coloured shorts; very clerical and respectable, but also easy to remove. He'd only just walked in and I'd shut the door when he grabbed and kissed me. I did the swooning maiden act and let him half carry me into the lounge and drop me on the divan. I started to protest, "No…no…not here, the bedroom." The divan is okay but the bed is more spacious and I like room to manoeuvre. So I led him to the bedroom and even before we got through the door he was undressing. One thing I'll say for him, he was enthusiastic. I thought I'd better get my little test piece over before he filled me up with his sperm again so I said to him, "You lie on the bed, I've got something special for you." He did as he was told and I sat astride him but facing down his body. I moved back to poise my sex organ over his face and began to lower it. As I've said I'm nearly always ready for sex. In the circumstances I was more ready than I think I'd ever been before. I rubbed my sex organ over his face, soaking it with my female love juice. He seemed to know what was expected and was soon licking me and pushing his tongue into my vaginal canal. I'd wondered how he would react to my female smell and taste; some of the guys, especially Sam, didn't like it, but I made them do it anyway. David, from the way he was avidly licking me and sucking on my clitoris didn't seem to have a problem, and as I orgasmed and dumped more lubricant on his face he seemed to grow even more enthusiastic. I'd finished my howling and yowling and was coming down on the other side of my climax when I gave him his reward. I'm not unfair, and if a guy does the right thing by me, I do the right thing by him. As I said, I'd been sitting across him facing down his body, so while I was experiencing the after tremors of my orgasm I leaned forward and took his penis into my mouth. Starting with his crown I worked my way along his shaft taking as much of it in as possible. I have to admit it was only about half his length I could manage, but he wasn't the brutal type, and made no attempt to get his length down my throat. I sucked hard on him and it was his turn to start yelling and moaning as he unloaded into my mouth. God know where he got so much sperm from – well I suppose God does know since he's supposed to give our natural endowments – but he filled my mouth to overflowing, and when he made his last ejection it was as much as I could do to suck the residual sperm out of his urethra. Then he did an amazing thing; he didn't seem to care that my mouth was still full of his sperm and his face was soaked with my lubricant; he kissed me, tasting his own sperm while I smelt and tasted myself. This boy was totally uninhibited. "Boy"? This was no boy. He was a man who knew just what a woman needs and wasn't afraid to give it. I was lying back gasping but he'd barely lost his erection before he was ready to go again. I gave myself a few minutes to recover and the decided on a little teasing. I pressed one of my nipples against the crown of his penis, rubbing it with little circular motions. That really sent him out into space. In no time he was sitting over me, and wrapping my breasts over his shaft be started to work himself back and forth. It took him a couple of minutes to come, but when he did he splattered his seed all over my face. Then when he'd finished the dear man licked up his sperm, and after that he subsided for a while, but even then he lay beside me fondling my breasts. I was wondering what sort of a monster I'd let loose, but was glad I had. If he kept this up he'd be the only guy who had ever been able to satisfy me completely. Next thing he was sucking my nipples and then he was penetrating me. I wasn't sure where I was; it was as if I'd been lifted up to heaven; a heaven where all your dreams come true. I orgasmed again and it was hell and paradise at the same time. That guy really had me stretched out on a rack, and I loved it. My climax was the most deliciously agonising I'd ever known, and I'm sure I cursed and swore at him, and at the same time begged him not to stop. He shot a massive dose on his sperm into me, and this time he seemed to be satiated. But I was wary; this guy was like a time bomb, you never knew when he was going to explode. When he lay beside me and said, "I love you Jessie," I didn't try to dissuade him. He could love me as much as he liked just so long as he kept me satisfied. He lay for a while then said, "I have to go, I've got a sermon to prepare." I wanted to keep him with me, but knew that I had to go with the flow, so for that morning we had finished. After he had gone I cleaned myself and the bed and went around the house singing "O love that wilt not let me go." You may think this blasphemous, but I really was thanking God for letting this man cross my path. I was not so cheerful when that afternoon the plumber decided to take an hour off work. I let him have me, but without enthusiasm, and I had no hope of coming. He knew something was wrong and asked if I was feeling okay. I told him I was fine, but I wasn't. I wanted David back again. I had nightmares that night that David didn't come to me anymore, and when next morning he hadn't arrived by ten o'clock, I couldn't wait; I went to his place. I dreaded that he wouldn't be there, but he was, and didn't seem surprise to see me. It was a passionate kiss as soon as the door was closed. He muttered something about intending to "drop round" and see me, but he'd "got caught up." He half carried me into his bedroom; "half carried" because I'm not a girl who is easily lifted up. I'd put on the minimum of clothing in anticipation so he had it off in no time, and stood there fondling my breasts while I got his gear off. I'd come prepared to take a risk on the grounds that we'd better get it over with sooner rather than later. I was intent on seeing if I could handle anal sex with him; taking it for granted that he liked that sort of thing. I was apprehensive because although I'd frequently had anal sex with some of the other guys, I was still rather tight and didn't know if I could handle that large phallus of David's. We went through some foreplay, but when he started to move between my legs I stopped him. Thinking it best to say it outright I touched my anus and said, "I want you to come in here." He didn't demur at first so I knelt on the edge of the bed presenting my rectum to him as he stood behind me. I'd come prepared and had a little bottle of artificial lubricant with me. I started to lubricate my anus, and seeing what I was doing David took over, carefully inserting some of the oily substance into me, and when he had finished he smeared some along his shaft. I calculated he'd done this before. He poised the crown of his penis over my sphincter and then hesitated. "You're very small," he said, "are you sure you want me to do this?" I gave my assent and felt him begin to press against me. At first I didn't think he was going to be able to break through, so I said, "Push harder." I relaxed as much as I could; he gave a tremendous thrust; there was a stabbing pain and he was through. Once inside me, although my sphincter would be sore for a couple of days, there was no more nasty pain. My rectum had even more gripping power than my vagina, so I soon had him yelping for more. To reinforce my view that he'd done this with someone before, he knew how to stimulate my clitoris while he thrust up and down in me. He soon had me yelping as well, but not with pain. Whether by his choice or chance I came before he did, thrusting back against he penetrations and yelling my head off. I was over the other side of my climax when he suddenly gave a loud groan and pulled me tight to him and I felt the first pulsation of his sperm into me. What followed was unusually slow but rhythmical as he pulled back and then thrust in again to deliver another ejection of sperm. For a while I thought he would never stop pumping into me, but finally he sighed, and his movements stopped. It was done; he had taken me in every significant sexual orifice. My guess was that a couple more times of anal sex would expand my sphincter and there would be no more pain, and I was right. After that, and as we became familiar with each other, there were only the odd teasing games to play. Sometimes he would masturbate me to orgasm and then I would masturbate him, enjoying watching his sperm leap out of his urethra to cascade over my hand and his belly. It was delightfully agonising because we both wanted that sperm in me, but it was just a bit of fun, and soon after we would be copulating properly. Over the following weeks and months I sometimes went to his house and at other times he came to me. All this was wonderful, and for the first time ever I was getting all the sex I wanted. This gave rise to a couple of problems. First, I no longer got satisfaction from the other guys. I managed to remove them one by one from my bed by telling them I'd heard rumours that their wives were getting suspicious. Being "respectable" gentlemen they decided that we must cease our illicit relationship and I saw them no more, except in church. A couple of the guys even left in tears. The second problem was more intractable. With all the other guys, including Sam, it had been sex and nothing but sex. Now for the first time in my life I was in love. I'd found a man who could satisfy me completely and was uninhibited in the way he did it. He was the man I'd dreamed of ever since that first time with the choir master. You might think that being in love was wonderful, and so it was in a way, especially as I knew that love was requited; but we were living on the edge of a precipice. We were getting together so often that my role as church secretary being the excuse must in the end wear thin and someone would realise what was going on. I didn't care too much what happened to me, but exposure would ruin David. In addition there was a time limit on how long David could serve in the parish before he was moved on. Where he might go was unknown, but thinking the worst I felt it would be too far away for us to continue our relationship. Then another aspect was something that was going on inside me. I have said I love children and being pregnant. I'd had my two children with Sam for the sake of having them, and not because I'd especially wanted them with Sam. Now I had found a man I really did want to have children with, but to get pregnant would give the whole game away because of Sam's vasectomy. Perhaps only those women who have truly desired to become pregnant with a particular man will understand how I felt. I talked it over with David, and learned that he dearly wanted to make me pregnant, but he understood the impossibility of doing so. In all the joy we had in each other the impossibility of him impregnating me added a touch of sadness to our coupling. For five years we continued as lovers, then what I had feared happened, David's time in the parish came to an end, and the worst that I had imagined came true; he was to be sent to a distant place. You might imagine that after five years our ardour had cooled down, but it hadn't. I knew that I would never find another man who could satisfy me as David did, and he felt the same about me. We were in despair and I began to look and feel physically ill. People began to notice and I had to tell them I was perfectly okay, even though it was obvious I wasn't. Again you might say, "That's the price you pay for adulterous behaviour." Perhaps it is, but even had I known how it would end I'd have still gone ahead. So David left and I wept and wept. Two weeks after he had gone I was desperate. My whole being seemed to be screaming for him and I thought I'd go mad. Then one day a letter came from David. In substance it said that he needed me so badly he would give up the ministry if only we could be together. He added that if I would leave Sam go to him he could get a cottage for me and the children and things would be as they had been; perhaps even better. That gave me one of the hardest choices I'd ever had to make, but when things came to a head I got a tremendous shock. I waited until one evening when the children had gone to bed and then told Sam I was leaving him. I waited for the explosion that never came. Sam just sat there looking at me complacently, and then he said, "You're going to that parson chap." It wasn't a question but a statement. I thought for a moment I was going to faint, but I managed to get a hold of myself and gasped, "How did you know?" He laughed and said "Why shouldn't I know, everybody else knows what been going on." "How can they, I've been…" "Been so careful? My God Jessie you and that guy must be really naïve if you think people didn't tumble to what's been going on. You don't think that the two of you getting together almost every weekday went unnoticed, did you?" "B-b-but no one said anything, they never reported…" "No, of course they didn't. One reason was that most of them liked David, and another reason is that some of them are elders and so on, and they were afraid you'd spill the beans about what you've been doing with them." My God, for all those years I'd thought I'd been so subtle but what I'd been doing had been known all along, even by Sam. "H-h-how come you never confronted me?" I asked. "Because in a way it suited me not to," he replied. "Why…why did it suit you?" He laughed, "Because you keep a good home and care for your children – by the way I'm pretty sure they're not mine – and you are as you are." I couldn't believe what I was hearing and not knowing what else to say I asked, "What do you mean, I am as I am?" "From very early in our marriage I realised what you needed in the way of sex, and I knew I had no hope of giving it to you. Ignoring the fact that you were having it off with other guys suited me because you wouldn't keep bothering me. As long as you kept the home front in order I was satisfied. I'm sorry you're going because I'll have to find someone else to look after the place, but at least I won't have to go on keeping other men's children." I was flabbergasted. Apart from the very early days in our relationship I'd known Sam was laid back about me, but not that laid back. He'd actually put up with me fucking with other men, and being fairly sure the children weren't his, and for what? I could only assume for what he would think of as a "quiet life." Pastoral Visit As I recovered from the shock of his revelations I began to get annoyed. I wanted him to berate me; to say punishing things; to curse me; that way I'd feel better about leaving him. But he sat there, an odd smile on his face, and I'm sure he was relieved I was going. Of course he was right, he'd have to get someone else to replace me, and with the sort of money he was making he wouldn't have much difficulty. No doubt he'd choose more carefully next time, and get himself a woman with a weak libido. His accountants mind came to the fore and he told me I couldn't expect him to go on keeping the children, and if I made a fuss about it he'd insist on tests to prove paternity. He knew I would let that happen. He went on to tell me he'd give me what he considered to be the value of my contribution to the household over the years, and if I didn't like it then I could go to the court. He knew I wouldn't do that either. So a week later the kids and I left for our new home. It was odd that they made little fuss about leaving the man they thought of as their father, but then, he'd never played much part in their lives. He had been content if I kept them well out of his way. The reunion with David was at first low key since the kids were around, but the moment we were alone he took me like a madman and I responded as if I was crazy, which I suppose I was. The kids and I moved into the cottage David had found for us and for the first time we were able to have some nights together, although David had to arrive after dark and leave before it got light. I didn't go to his house, but then I didn't need to. After about fourteen months Sam had divorced me. I knew that had been in process, so just before the divorce I went off the pill and I was soon pregnant. David and I got married and ever since I have been the virtuous minister's wife, but then why wouldn't I be since I get all I need from David. Perhaps I should add that I am not only virtuous, but frequently pregnant; and in case you're wondering, David is the father of all of them apart from the two I brought with me.