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The Church

By: hellbound_heart



The rain had forced them to abandon the picnic and seek shelter, he grabs her hand and leads her up the grassy path to the church. Pushing open the big oak doors they both enter and look around to see if anyone is about. They look around as they walk down to the front of the church to where the stained glass windows are situated, their eyes taking in the beautiful colours and the biblical scenes they portray. He stands behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, she leans into him and rests her head against his shoulder as they both look at the glass. Her fingers lazily stroking his clasped hands, his breathe teasingly blowing on her ear.

He snakes his hand underneath her t-shirt and glides his fingertips over her stomach, she lets out a soft moan as his fingers tease her warm flesh. She wriggles against him as he finds one of her ticklish spots, he dips his head and kisses her neck just below her ear which again makes her wriggle. She can feel something rubbing against her lower back, she reaches round and between them and grins as she brushes her hand over the bulge forming in his trousers. She rubs her hand over the bulge and purrs softly as she feels his body push against hers and her hand cups him.

He moves his hand slowly upwards to her breasts, his fingers sliding underneath the material of her bra and grazing against her breast. She arches her upper body into his touch, his fingers cupping her breast and his thumb rubbing over her nipple. With his other hand he slides his fingers along the waist band of her jeans, he unzips them and runs his fingers lightly over her panties letting them dance on her covered flesh. She unzips his jeans and slides her hand inside and runs her fingers over his cock before releasing it through the zipper.

He growls and brings his hand out of her jeans and spins her round to face him, his hand still toying with her nipple as he pulls her closely to him. She moans as she feels his cock tip rub against her waist, she reaches down and pushes his jeans down to his knees. She grazes her lips over his before dropping to her knees and kisses his cock tip, both his hands now gripping her shoulders as her tongue dances over his erect cock tip. She closes her mouth over the tip and suckles, swirling her tongue over and darting the tip in and out of his cock slit. She slides her mouth slowly down to the base of his cock, letting her lips vibrate on him as she moans. His grip tightens on her shoulders as his knees buckle slightly, his cock throbbing in her tight mouth as she bobs up and down on it.

He lets her do this a few times before he pulls out of her mouth and drops onto his knees next to her, he kisses her hard on her lips as his hands roam her body. He tugs at her jeans and pulls them down to the top of her thighs exposing her red lace panties, he slides his hand inside and over her wet pussy lips. Her hand encircles round his cock and slowly moves up and down as his fingers tease her pussy lips open, he pushes them apart and pushes a finger down to her wet hole. He pushes his finger in and out a few times then plunges it fully in and lets his thumb rub against her clit. She tightens her grip on his cock as his thumb teases her clit, she moans loudly and grinds her hips against his fingers.

He pushes her down onto the floor and pulls her jeans and panties down and tosses them to the side then does the same with his jeans, he rubs his cock tip along her wet pussy lips and then pushes it between them. The coldness of the stone floor on her half naked body makes her shiver, sending goose bumps all over her body. He pushes the tip in and out a few times then slowly pushes fully into her, he watches as her body writhe under him. Slowly he starts to thrust in and out, building a rhythm as she lifts her legs up and out to allow him to penetrate her deeper. She tightens her pussy on him as he thrusts hard and deeply into her, their bodies moving together as their orgasm rapidly builds. 

"Ohhh J.... ohhhh" she moans as her pussy spasms on his cock.

"Cum for me baby" He growls as his body trembles.

Both their orgasms explode, their bodies writhing together as they both cum. He dips his head and kisses her as he slides his spent cock out of her wet pussy.

The door to the church creaks, he quickly grabs their jeans and they manage to slip them on just as an elderly woman walks down the aisle towards them. He helps her up and they both grin as the woman looks at them curiously, they both smile at her and hurry out of the church, once outside he pulls her to him and kisses her and they both burst out laughing.

The Church Audit



Chapter 1 - - The Board Decides


Several years had passed since St. Mark's books had been subject to an outside audit. Over the years, the board had been reluctant to spend the funds required for an outside report. However, in 2010 a few new board members were elected. The new members were inquisitive about the cash flow, the investments, the designated funds, and the levels of expenditure in the various categories. The board was swayed by their questions and it was agreed that an outside auditor would be engaged to review the records and report on the state of the church finances.

That's where I came into the picture. The board asked for quotes from a few accountants, and my price apparently attracted them. I was introduced to a few board members, and they in turn directed me to the treasurer.

Harold Koch was a respected elder, and had served as Treasurer for nearly eleven years. Harold was well known in the community. He ran a mortgage placement business and was also active in municipal politics. Harold was, in fact, looking to move up the political food chain. He was already the deputy mayor of the community, and his first step upward would be to run for county council. That move was often the conduit to becoming a candidate for the legislature, and Harold had his mind set on the legislature as a long term goal.

Being busy with his municipal duties as well as his business, Harold relied largely on his wife, Ellie, to handle the treasury function of the church. After all, she had been a bookkeeper before they were married. All Harold had to do was submit her monthly statements to the board. To simplify the job, Harold had made arrangements with the bank to have Ellie become a signing authority. He didn't really have to spend much time on the books, but he garnered a lot of respect from the members of St. Mark's in his role as treasurer. 

It didn't take long for Harold to turn me over to Ellie in order to commence the audit. She was a pleasant woman to deal with, and our initial meeting went well. Ellie brought me her statements for the last two years. I asked for the cancelled checks for the last three years as well. At first she wasn't able to locate them, but I persisted in my requests and gradually she located the bank records. She delivered them to me one year at a time, about a week apart. 

"Can you walk me through the investments," I asked. 

"Well, there's the building fund, the missions fund, the emergency fund, the benevolent fund, the hospital fund, and several specified bequests from members' estates."

"Good, can you show me the debits and credits to these fund accounts?" 

Ellie looked a little puzzled. "It's hard to remember all that activity, it took place over several years. We may have to go back a few more years than the three years that we pulled the records for."

"Yes, we will," I agreed. "Can you bring me all the bank records and cancelled checks that you have in your possession? I'll need them by the end of the week."

As Ellie seemed a bit unsure of the financial transactions, I decided to review the bank records rather carefully. I was amazed to see numerous checks written to Ellie, all of them being balance sheet items that didn't appear on the monthly and yearly profit and loss statements. When Ellie came to my office with a few more records, I decided to broach the matter with her.

"Ellie, can you explain these entries to me?" I asked. "It appears that you have written numerous checks to yourself and to Harold. So far, it looks like twenty thousand dollars or so, and I'm only part way through the analysis. It seems rather odd. What's the explanation for this?"

Ellie looked shaken. "It started with the election expenses. We had to have some cash quickly and we anticipated that the fund-raising and donations would easily cover it, so we just borrowed it from one of the designated estate funds. There's tons of money at St. Mark's and a lot of it's just sitting doing nothing. Most of those estate funds have so many conditions imposed by the will or the estate that it's hard to spend them."

"How much was involved that time?" I inquired.

"Thirty two hundred was the amount. We anticipated that we could repay it in a few weeks, but the donations just didn't come in as we expected. We were only able to pay back about two thousand, and that took us two months."

"Then what?"

Ellie's lips quivered. "Well, we seemed to need cash for a lot of things. It was a lot easier to borrow it from St. Marks than to deal with the bank. It escalated. Harold isn't really all that aware of what took place, except for the election expenses. He just knows that I borrow when I need to."

"Ellie, I'm sure you know that this is illegal. Not only that, Harold can kiss to his political career goodbye once this information goes to the board. Even if you find a way to pay it back, it's sure to get leaked to the press and likely to the police once I submit my audit report. I can't do anything but tell the board that there's money missing and explain where it went."

"I'll do anything to resolve this," said Ellie. We can mortgage the house. That should easily cover the debt."

"What is Harold going to say when you tell him about your continuing theft?" I asked.

"Oh no!" Ellie moaned. "He'll divorce me, and Harold has a terrible temper. Can you give me a little time to mortgage the house? Please, I'll do anything to get out of this mess that I've created." 

"How much time do you need?"

"I'm not sure, a couple of weeks, less than a month I hope. Please, don't tell anyone. Give me a chance to make this right," Ellie pleaded.

An idle thought entered my mind as I looked at Ellie. She was pretty good looking at forty-two. I ran my eyes over her, and tried to imagine what she would look like without clothes.

"What are you thinking?" she asked. "I see that look, and I think I know what's going on in your mind."

I asked, "What do you mean?" as innocently as I could.

"You're undressing me mentally, I can tell." Ellie replied. "Normally I'd be annoyed, but right now I'm not. If I surrender myself to you, would you consider holding off on reporting to the board until we can pay back the borrowed funds?"

"There's no one left in the office," I said. "Why don't you show me what surrendering means?"

Ellie meant what she said. She knew the fix she was in would ruin both her and her husband. She took a deep breath and unzipped her skirt. She looked shaken, but she was determined to work her way out of trouble. Next, she pulled down her panties and stood in front of me. 

"See, I'm not just playing you," she said.

With that, she sidled up to me and sat on my lap, facing me with her legs apart.

"Go ahead," she said, "I'm all yours."

Ellie was so tense that she was trembling. I saw a little tear fall from her eye. 

"This is a nice handful," I said, and cupped her womanhood in the palm of my hand.

As my fingers explored her pussy, she seemed to calm herself. I rubbed her clit and parted her little lips.

"Let me have a better look," I asked.

Ellie leaned back a bit and scooted her bum forward so I could see her goodies. 

"Looks good enough to kiss," I told Ellie.

"Let me get up on the desk here," she answered, "kiss away!"

As I went to work with my lips and tongue, Ellie was busy opening her shirt and unclasping her bra. She was a good looking woman. 

"Oooh, oooh," she exclaimed, "That feels good – suck on it a bit." 

I licked and sucked until Ellie was nicely relaxed, but I could tell that this was all too sudden for her to reach a climax. 

"Nice tits," I said as I played with her breasts and rolled her nipples between my fingers. "Let me have another good look at that nice pussy of yours."

Ellie looked concerned. "Again?" she asked. "You've already seen it and licked it."

"Yes," I replied. "Open wide. Remember that I own your pussy now. I'll look at it when I want and play with it when I want."

Ellie sighed, spread her legs, and said, "Sorry, I'm just not used to showing off my girl parts on demand."

I parted her lips and pulled up the skin above her clit so I could see her nice pink bud.

"Can't resist giving that nice little thing some more attention with the tip of my tongue," I told Ellie, and swirled my tongue around her bud.

"I haven't done anything like this since I was in college," she told me. "I can do it again, but it might just take a little while to readjust my mind. I'll do my best to satisfy you. I'm going to try to enjoy it. I may as well, I guess."

"It's nice to see that you mean what you said," I told her. "How about tonight, can you come to my apartment? The bed there is a lot softer than this desk."

Ellie looked resigned, and nodded.

"Okay, I'll be there. About seven, I think. I have a feeling you're going to fuck my brains out!"

"You're right on that one," I told her.

"That tongue felt good," said Ellie. "I'll be ready for you. Thanks for giving me a chance."


Chapter 2 -- Ellie Does Her Best


Just after seven, Ellie arrived. She opened a little bag she had with her and brought out a nice peignoir. Going into the bathroom, she changed and came out wearing it. Ellie showed a lot of leg, it was nice and short. 

"This could be fun," she said. "It's not as scary as I thought. But when I undressed in your office today I have to admit I was shaking."

"Don't worry," I said, "I won't do anything to frighten you. After all, I'm hoping that you have a nice time. That makes it nicer for me."

"I'm okay now," Ellie said. "I'm up for it. Actually, I've often daydreamed about getting it on with another man, but I've never done it until now."

"Good," I said, you are a nice woman. Over the next few weeks you can likely work your way out of this mess, and all it will take is your willingness to have fun. But you may as well enjoy the experience."

"I will," she said. "I won't hold back. I'm giving myself to you completely.

She looked a bit pensive, so I asked her, "What's on your mind?"

"Well," she said, "I'm willing to do anything you want, but I was hoping that you wouldn't shoot your semen in my mouth. I've never done that before."

"No problem," I said, "I'll warn you when I'm going to squirt, so you can pull off. Anyway, I'd rather squirt in your pussy than in your mouth. Just get ready for me to stick it in your pussy quickly when I'm almost there."

"Oh good," she said. "I was worried about that. I've never done anal either. I'll try it if you want to, but it's new to me, so be patient please."

"I'm not big on anal," I said. "That nice pussy of yours is just two inches away from your bum, and I'd just as soon stay with a nice clean place."

"Thank goodness!" Ellie replied.

"But I like to explore and look. I'm a 'lights on' kind of guy, and I'd love to play with your goodies."

"That's what goodies are for," she said with a chuckle. "I even brought a vibrator with me, in case you'd like to use it on me. Actually, I've secretly wanted to show off my pussy, but my husband isn't into that. He likes it in the dark."

With those words, Ellie slipped off her peignoir, threw her shoulders back, and stuck out her tits. I smiled at her.

"They aren't very big, but I love it when you look at them," she told me.

I couldn't resist taking a breast in each hand and rubbing her nipples. Ellie responded with a deep kiss, exploring my mouth with her tongue.

We got onto the bed and for a moment Ellie tensed, and trembled a bit. I held her quietly. 

"All of a sudden, I realized that this is it. I'm giving myself up and you own every little bit of me," she said.

"Well," I joked, "If I own every little bit of you, how about we put a pillow under your bum so I can kiss one of the little bits that I own?"

That seemed to calm Ellie, and she lifted her rear so I could put a pillow under her, and she spread her legs.

"So how many of my fingers do you think will fit?" I asked her.

Ellie looked concerned, but she swallowed and said, "Depends on how big your hands are. Two fingers for sure, go ahead and try."

I put in one finger, then another, and spread my fingers apart a little.

"Room for one more? I asked her.

"Not sure," she replied. "Maybe if you take them out first and put the third one in me to get it wet, then they will all be more slippery and slide in together."

I tried again, adding fingers one at a time, but the third finger couldn't find a home. Ellie looked concerned. I think she was expecting me to force all three fingers inside her, and she was wondering if I was going to hurt her. She spread her legs wider, pulled the edges of her pussy as wide as she could, and we tried again. Ellie still didn't have room for three fingers. She didn't know that I was only testing her willingness, and she was passing the test.

I began to suck on her clit and rub her G-spot at the same time. Soon Ellie was more than willing to fuck, and pulled me up on top of her. "Give it to me," she urged. "I want you."

Ellie held my cock at her opening so I pushed in and out several times, relishing the feeling of entering her over and over.

"Deeper, please," she groaned. "I hate it when you pull out. I want you in me, all the way."

I gave in to her desire and drove in as deep as I could, then started to pound away. Ellie reached her climax fairly quickly, and I kept on pumping until I came to my own orgasm. She had a peaceful and relaxed look on her face, and she kissed me. 

"Nice," said Ellie. "Really nice. I think I'm going to like you owning me."

For the next two weeks I took Ellie to bed almost every evening. She always seemed to be available as Harold was at some kind of municipal or political meeting on a steady basis. She knew I was in charge, and she became more and more compliant.

"Ellie, let's try it with you on top," I suggested.

"Okay, want me facing you or turned around?"

"Ellie, I'd like to try doggy style, bend over the end of the couch."

"Alright, tell me if you need me higher or lower and I'll move my feet where we need them."

"Ellie, how about a bit of suction to get me hard again?"

"You'd like it the sixty-nine way again, I guess."

"Ellie, lets' try that vibrator of yours. I want to see how it makes you wiggle."

"That will be fun. You're going to see me go a little crazy when I go over the edge."

And so it went. One evening she was lying between my knees sucking my cock to get me hard for another fuck. Ellie was getting pretty good at oral, and had tuned in to my rhythm. I felt a sudden buildup and I knew I was going to squirt, and quickly. Before I could climb onto her and deposit my semen in her pussy I erupted in her mouth. 

"That came quicker than I expected," I told her. 

Ellie took a wad of tissue and spit into it. "It doesn't taste all that bad, I guess," she replied.


Chapter 3 -- The Mortgage


The time arrived for the bank to issue the mortgage. They needed Harold's signature. Ellie told me that she had explained the situation to Harold and he virtually exploded.

"Why didn't you tell me that we needed to mortgage the house before we got into this mess?"

"You always said that you didn't want to talk about it," she told him.

"You little slut," he yelled, "Whoring your way out of this had to be your idea, wasn't it?"

Ellie retorted, "What else could I do. I had to save your precious ass because you overspent on your political ambitions. And you are the one who told me just to borrow what we needed from St. Mark's. Don't blame me. You're just as much at fault."

Harold added, "You have been giving yourself body and soul to this dammed auditor. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"You ought to feel thankful, you bastard. If I hadn't been willing to shove my pussy in his face you would be in deep trouble by now. And it's not just this year's problem. He can hold this over us for years. I might have to fuck him for a decade, you dumb ass. I got a mouthful of semen just the other day, all to protect you, and now you give me shit. Where do you think you get off?"

"Let's go talk to this auditor prick. I've got a lot of influence. I'll put the run on him," Harold decided.

We met the next day. Harold blustered and swore, calling me every kind of asshole he could think of. 

I asked him for a certified check for thirty-eight thousand, five hundred and ten dollars, and he handed it over. Ellie sighed with relief.

"You prick, I'll get you for this," Harold shouted.

"I don't like threats," I told him. "You just pissed me off! First of all, I'm going to keep fucking Ellie as long as I want. She's good in bed, so I might want her for several years. Whenever I feel the need she had better show up, ready for action. Don't forget, I have copies of all the records and the original checks made out to you and Ellie." 

Harold swore at me some more, and called me a few more nasty names.

"Secondly, tonight I'm going to fuck Ellie and give her a big load of semen. You're going to watch, and when I'm done, you sir, are going to suck my semen out of her pussy and swallow it. Is that perfectly clear?"

Harold wilted. He knew he was beaten. His desire for his political career took hold of him, and it overpowered his anger toward me and his need to keep Ellie for himself.

That evening, Ellie and Harold showed up. I asked Harold to hang his coat in the closet, mostly to make sure he didn't have a pistol handy. I need not have worried. Harold's political aspirations were keeping him in check.

I walked up to Ellie and undressed her, kissed her, and played with her tits. Harold was having a hard time watching, and he began to look at the floor for the most part. 

I told Ellie to lie on the bed, and I undressed and knelt between her legs. 

I whispered to Ellie, "Make lots of noise, let him hear you like it."

She nodded, and a small grin crept over her face. I kissed her nipples and then sucked them. Ellie leaned forward and I kissed her deeply. She lay back, shoved a pillow under her bum, and spread her legs wider than I remembered her doing on other days. Ellie was getting a bit of payback now against Harold. 

I spread her lips apart, and rubbed her clit with one hand while I felt for her G-spot with the middle finger of my other hand. 

Ellie moaned, "Oh, oh, oh, oh." 

Her hips bucked up as little spasms ran through her, and with each one she grunted and groaned. She made sure that Harold could hear.

I licked and sucked her clit to bring her to a nice strong orgasm. After all, we were getting pretty well synchronized after a few weeks of sex.

Ellie let out a near roar, "Oh, oh, oh, suck harder, suck me, suck my clit, please, lick me more.

She was louder than usual, and Harold shook with every moan from Ellie.

I climbed aboard her, and entered her easily as she spread her pussy for me with her fingers. Ellie continued to moan with pleasure as I stroked her to an orgasm. I followed with a loud snort and grunt as I squirted my seed into her.

Once I was finished, I told Harold it was time for him to vacuum out her pussy. 

It was hard for Harold. He looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he walked across the room, knelt down, slurped at Ellie's pussy, and swallowed.

What some men won't do to save their ass and to make it big in politics. 



The Church Balcony



I still can't figure out whether it was planned or spontaneous. But I'll tell you the story. My wife and I have been married for 15 years now and 5 children later we are still very much in love. But you can probably imagine how difficult it is to find those special moments alone. 

We were both virgins when we met, not because we weren't interested in sex but because we had both made a decision to keep God's rules for marriage. The months leading up to our marriage were the hardest I had ever endured. We saved intercourse for marriage but we had done some heavy petting and kissing. Someday I'll tell you the story of our first night but you'll have to wait for that. 

Though we had a standing start we really got into sex. We were adventurous but made sure we never crossed at line. We figured that God made marriage between two people, what they did was their business, and not anyone else's. So although we looked at some porn once in a while for ideas everything we did was private. 

But somewhere down in my wife's psyche was just a little bit of an exhibitionist. Our first car we got together was a big old Grandpa car, an Olds 88, with a luxurious front bench seat. Maybe because of the fond memories we had of our pre-marital petting in the car, we made use of that seat. We would begin holding hands and talking, but soon I would be caressing her breasts and then her legs and then he inner thighs, and then I would finger fuck my wife for miles. The Big car made her feel safe and she would be well hidden from any passing cars. But she would hold her legs up in the window making it clear to anyone who saw just exactly what was going on, though none but me got the enjoyment of seeing her dripping cunt and feeling her writhing on my fingers as she would cum. 

We usually made it home in time for me to fuck her in our bedroom, but more than once we had to find a vacant turn off to let me join in the fun. 

So I wouldn't have thought my wife would be into showing off, and technically she didn't. After several jobs and several kids I took a job as a pastor of a small country church. It was a beautiful place with a big parsonage for my growing family. Each Sunday I would preach and my family would sit, my four kids filling almost the whole pew. Then our youngest was born, and one of the feature of the church became well appreciated. Back when the church was built it included a balcony, but as the population dwindled in the area the seating wasn't needed. So, long before I came, the balcony had been converted into a nursery, allowing the parents of crying children to still view the preacher through the window along the front of the balcony. 

But now we were the only family with small children, and my wife often sat through the sermon up there. The baby was born in the fall and winter up in the north is a bad time to get out much, so when spring arrived my wife was anxious to get out and exercise. I always love it when she is working out because she gets much more interested in sex. She set as her goal for wait loss fitting into one of her favorite skirts. It was black leather, and although it was pretty conservative in length it just felt sexy. (That might have been because of one night when our playing around in the car led to us parked in the woods with her leaning over the fender of the car and me fucking her from behind, holding up the same skirt, or it might have just been because she looked great in it.)

It was Saturday night when she tried the skirt on, and told me she had "done it." Of course she immediately set a new goal to be even skinnier but she was still excited about losing the weight. Excited enough that when I came into the bedroom to go to bed I found that our "tie-up" ties had been affixed to the corners of the bed. That is a pretty sure sign to me she wants to have some "wild sex." We did.

When she came in from he shower I laid her out on the bed and with little ceremony I stretched her out and tied her spread eagle with each hand and foot tied to a corner of the bed. I moved the full length mirror we have standing in our room ( a gift from friend who I'm sure never thought it would be used as we do, but who knows?) and placed it at the end of the bed. My wife loves to watch me eat her from both sides, so I think she thought that might be the plan, but without touching her at all I strung together the belt from hers and my bathrobes and tied it across the room. Then I went to our stash of toys and got a vibrator. Just a normal one with a battery pack separate. I hung it over the belts so it was held by the wire just above her pussy. 

I turned it on and let it buzz, just the sound made my wife begin to writhe. I love to watch her squirm, as she was turning within her bonds she had her eyes closed and I slowly lowered the vibrator so that her writhing would bring her pussy in contact with the humming shaft. When it made contact the response was electric. She thrust her hips forward again to try to meet the vibrator but unless she moved slowly she would knock it away. She was forced to move slowly when she already wanted to buck hard against the vibrating latex. 

She arched up to meet it and held there as long as she could then shuddered back down. I could have cum just watching her but I wanted to last. So I would slide the vibrator away and give her a break then bring it back. Finally, I lowered it so she could squeeze it between her legs. She held it tight there, and I began to think she might cum, so I pulled the vibrator up and climbed onto the bed. I placed myself between her legs and slowly stuck my throbbing cock into her pussy. 

She squeezed it harder than I thought she could and began writhing harder on my cock. I lowered the vibrator so it was resting right on her clitoris, when she stopped moving, then I grabbed her ankles, untied the ties and began slowly thrusting into her soaking wet vagina. She didn't wait long before I could tell she was coming. I thrust harder to her whimpers of "yess, oh yes." Until I exploded into her, the frantic plunging of her orgasm milked every drop of cum from my throbbing cock. We collapsed together, and I whispered in her ear "I love you."

It is so good to wake up the next morning with memories like that, but I had to get ready for the service ahead. I had my notes prepared so I only needed to brush up on things, and make sure everything was organized at church. At breakfast my wife gave me that special sexy hug that says I'm still thinking about last night. 

Well church got underway as normal, my family sitting in their pew and most of the others filled as well. I began the sermon and as so often happens my baby started crying. Very quietly my wife got up to take him to the nursery. She shot the kids the "I'll be watching you so you better be good" look and she went up to the balcony. 

My mind was on my sermon so I paid little attention to her as she nursed our baby. She was sitting towards the back of the former balcony so no one could see her except me from the pulpit. Because I knew my topic well my eyes would scan the congregation, including her. I happened to be looking at her when she finished nursing our son. He was asleep and lying back and her breast was sticking out. My gaze stopped for a minute. And she noticed. My wife has beautiful breasts and when she is nursing they are very full, and when the baby has been sucking the tits stand up so tall. Just that glimpse would have given me a hard-on if I hadn't had such good sex the night before. 

My wife got up, her tit still hanging out and carefully laid our son in the crib. She came back to the rocking chair and instead of buttoning up she did something that made me stumble. She bent down her head and started sucking her own tit. I recovered from my mistake but I was having a hard time looking at my notes, or anywhere but up at the balcony. 

She sucked one breast while she massaged the other, pinching the tit to make it stand up. I misspoke again and lost my place in my notes, I finally got back on track , but now I had another problem. My cock was at attention. Now the pulpit in our church is big enough to hide behind, but I usually move around while I talk. Not today I stood rooted to my place, trying to make sense of my notes but hardly able to pull my eyes off my wife.

She teased me mercilessly. After sucking her tits and showing me her mouth full of milk she started to lift up the leather skirt. I shouldn't have been surprised because she had always been threatening to get some sexy under wear when she lost weight , but under her leather skirt she was wearing thigh length stockings and a garter belt with her panties pulled up over them. 

She stood up from her rocking chair, now her head could be see from people in the front row, but she just smiled a normal smile and reached down and slid down her panties.

I'll never know how I kept talking, but I have the gift of gab, and it helped me out that day. I even had one person tell me it was a great sermon. Too bad I didn't know what it was about. 

She just kept on going, still keeping her prim expression for those who could see her face she began massaging her lips, She rubbed them vigorously, then she held them apart, it was too far to see the details of her pussy but I knew it so well I could imagining it in detail. Holding wide open she began to tease her clitoris, with the tips of her fingers. Although I'm sure her snatch was dripping already, she brought he fingers up to lick them very properly as if she was turning the pages on her Bible.

She was rubbing her clit then for just a second she got a mischievous glint in her eye, she knows I love it when she finger fucks herself. Even though it isn't that exciting for her sometimes she does just to turn me on. Boy did it. She began sticking her finger deep into her pussy again and again, then she began to use two fingers, Finally she went back to the rocking chair and slouched down into it so that I could just see her heavily lidden eyes and her smile above her pussy. 

She did more finger fucking than I have ever see before, and she seemed to enjoy it. We once looked at some pictures of fisting and didn't find it appealing but she sure made space for more fingers that I'd ever hoped to see go into her cunt. She finally settled down to a rhythm fucking herself with two fingers of one hand and massaging her clit with the fingers of the other. 

I finally had my sermon where I could end it, so I called for the final song. My wife's pretty good about keeping quiet during her orgasm but I wasn't taking any chances. We were hardly into the song when I saw he body go rigid and start to shudder with the wave of an orgasm. I knew I needed to take my eyes of her and start thinking somber thoughts if I wanted my cock to be presentable by the time I had to step from behind the podium. She must have read my thoughts because she withdrew to a part of the nursery not visible to me.

I finished the service and greeted everyone at the door, and still my wife hadn't come down, I encouraged the kids to head home and told them that Mom was probably staying till the baby woke up. I talked with the last few people who were visiting in the foyer and subtly hurried them out the door. Finally when everyone was gone I went up the stairs to the balcony. 

She met me on the stairs, and said so innocently, "is everyone gone already?" I started to answer that the kids were at home and the parishioners gone, but she didn't wait. She reached down and undid my zipper. The cock which had barley staid down during the wait jumped to attention and my wife took it without any ceremony as deep into her throat as she could. Two or three thrusts and I was ready to come. But she normally doesn't like me to cum in her mouth. I was getting close and I said "where do you want me to come?" 

She looked up at me and said " In my mouth." I didn't give her a chance to reconsider, I couldn't. I came in her hungry mouth. Fortunately, I had come the night before so there wasn't as much cum, and she looked up at me smiled and swallowed. 

I lifted her up to hug her and she was still smiling, "I've told you, you don't have to swallow" I said.

"I know, but how would you explain that kind of stain to the janitor?" 



The Church Camp



Jason's mind wondered off and he started to think about the woman he had seen earlier this morning.

The whole group went for a swim in the ocean. It was just after ten, the sun was shining bright, the beach white and the water crystal clear. He watched her as she walked to the water. The feminine movement of her hips and buttocks. She was wearing a swimsuit, but he thought she would have looked even better in a bikini. Her firm butt was formed perfectly. The image of her curves was imprinted in his mind. When she came out of the water, he saw her full breasts and erected nipples. There was a hint of a cameltoe between her legs when her wet swimsuit clung to her body. Her skin looked smooth and evenly tanned all over. There were no tan lines that he could see, and he was sure she had tanned topless before.

Jason sighed and wished he had never gone on the church camp. It was hot and the air was humid. They were discussing Creation versus Evolution. He decided to concentrate on the topic and get the thoughts of the beautiful woman at least for awhile out of his mind.

Creation versus Evolution. One of the members was giving an explanation about science and the role it played in supporting the theory of evolution.

He decided that the woman's bottom was created for a G-string. The tiny piece of cloth covering her vulva and pubic area, the thin line between her buttocks and the almost invisible strap around her hips. He pictured it in his mind. He decided that he will be a supporter of creation.

Damn, his mind wondered off again. He looked around and saw most of the other men are making notes, and others are listening attentively to the guest speaker. He tried to make notes and think about something to contribute to the discussion, but he couldn't concentrate.

The woman had long, shining black hair and in contrast, striking blue eyes. Her lips were full and looked soft. He wished he could touch her smooth skin. Just letting his hands glide over her legs, up, and over her firm ass.

Jason was abruptly brought back to reality when he heard the announcement that they will break for lunch. He packed his stationary away and followed the others to the tables in the centre of the groups of chalets. There were four groups of chalets. Groups A, B, C and D. The woman occupied group A, the sisters group B, the Reverend Mr. Smith and the elders group C, and the rest of the men group D.

One of the elders said grace, and they started to enjoy lunch. Jason situated himself at a table so that he could see the woman. The site was surrounded by tall trees, and where the rays of the sun broke through the leaves, it reflected like tiny crystals on her hair. She saw him looking at her, smiled and slowly moved the tip of her tongue over her lips. He felt his heart racing and the desire growing inside him.

He finished his lunch quickly and went to put his plate in the kitchen. Just as he entered the kitchen, the woman passed him and shoved a note into his hand. He went straight to the conference hall to his place, sat down and read the note. Just three words. "The beach. Midnight." The rest of the afternoon he couldn't concentrate at all. He was not only one. After lunch the "puppy syndrome" kicked in. Stomachs full, eyes closed. It was very hot and most of them struggled to stay awake. During dinner he saw the woman just for a moment, then one of his peers sat down in front of him and blocked his view.

Jason glanced at his watch. Finally. The last few hours seemed like an eternity. His room mate were fast asleep. He stood up, went outside and briskly walked to the beach. He only had his boxers on because it was very hot. A thin layer of sweat formed on his body. The sky was clear and the light of full moon stretched out over the beach and the sea.

He saw her silhouette. She was standing with her back to him, but he could clearly see that she was stark naked. When he reached her, he folded his arms around her from behind and started to kiss her neck. She moaned with pleasure and he cupped her breasts in his hands.

She turned around and pressed herself against him. He felt her hard nipples against his chest. They started to kiss. The tips of their tongues were playing around. His hands moved over the smooth skin of her back, down to her buttocks. She pulled down his boxers with one hand and gently played with his balls. He removed his boxers completely. She parted her legs a little bit and his fingers ran down between her butt cheeks over her anus and into her slit. His other hand was lightly caressing her shaven pubic area.

She pushed him down onto a towel she had brought and lowered her snatch to him. Her lips were swollen and her clit erected. He slowly parted the lips further and played with the tip of his tongue over the entrance of her vagina, up to her clitoris and he sucked it gently. When he tasted her flowing juices, he became more aroused.

She sat back and gave him a long and passionate kiss, then straddled him and lowered herself onto his penis, guiding it into her. She felt wet, warm and silky smooth. He entered her completely and she started to ride. First slow and then faster. His hands went to her moving buttocks and their mouths locked together.

She was about to come and sat down more on him so that her clit was rubbing against him. She went faster and when she came her vagina was even wetter and more slippery. His penis reached deep inside her. Her screams when she orgasmed were dampened by the rushing sound of the waves. She felt his penis pulsating and the warm cum filling her.

They remained in position for another while. Kissing and touching each other. When his penis slipped out, they stood up. The semen dripped out of her vagina and ran down her legs. She wiped it off with the towel. They got dressed and walked back to the site. The wind carried the smell of their love making away. Just before they reached the chalets, they kissed, said goodnight to each other and went their separate ways.

When Jason entered his chalet, he thought about the camp. 

Church Camp For Young Married Couples: A course to help young married couples understand their role in society and live their lives according to God's will.

"It is ridiculous. It is just so ridiculous that because this a church camp, I had to sneak off into the night with my wife," he said out loud.

He smiled as he climbed into his bed. When he woke up the next morning, he was still smiling...



The Church Elder



Over the years between her first (that I knew of) affair, I had a lot of "gut" feelings that something was out of kilter somewhere in the things she did. Odd familiarities with various males in our circle of acquaintances. Nothing ever presented itself as proof, but it just made me wonder. This is one of those. Maybe it happened, maybe it didn't. I truly don't know. Did she stop, or did she just learn to cover her tracks better. This story also presents a little nuance that deviates from the previous stories. Another lie by Sandi? 

Keep in mind that all the names have been changed to protect something, or someone. Even me. 

***** 

The Church Elder 

Sandi's newly-acquired sexual freedom was just beginning to sink in the following morning. Her husband had made the decision to allow her to indulge her admitted addiction to strange, previously forbidden cock. She was still in a state of shock at the turn of events and was still exploring in her mind the new world of possibilities. She could now fuck anyone she wanted, anytime she wanted, for any reason. He had resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't fulfill her sexual needs like she needed and he gave her this gift rather than losing her. He loved her too much for that. He wanted her to be happy. He believed, incorrectly perhaps that this would keep them together. She just had to follow a couple of guidelines which didn't crowd her too much, or crimp her style. It was worth it to her. She was very happy with her life now. She had everything. She could appear to the outside world as the devoted wife, and also feed her fuck lust without guilt, shame, or fear of discovery. Her husband would see to that. 

Their agreement brought pleasure to both. It was a logical compromise. She loved him more right now than she had in years. She felt very close to him, lucky to have this incredible gift. She wanted it to stay just like it was - perfect. She kept the security of her marriage, and she glowed when she thought about the possibilities of this new world. 

Her phone rang. 

"Sandi?" 

It was her "other," secret phone, the "Bat" phone. Her husband knew nothing about this phone. It was how she stayed in touch with her stable of "dicks" without her husband's discovery. It was a vestige of her old life, where secrecy was demanded if she wanted to get satisfaction from her other cocks and not get caught. 

Since her new life had only begun last night, she hadn't had time to get rid of the "Bat" phone and cancel the contract. She recognized the number by sight. 

"Hey, lover. Who else has this phone number? You got your cock in your hand thinking about me?" 

It was Robert. He was more than a friend. They went to church together. Their kids had grown up together, ridden horses, played games, celebrated birthdays - grew up together. His son had married her daughter. 

Sandi made a mental note to tell Robert that they wouldn't need to sneak around anymore. She hadn't worked out exactly how she would tell her current cocks about the new arrangement. She realized she would probably lose some because of the rules, but she would replace them. That could be exciting in itself - new regular cocks. She would savor that later. 

Robert was the first of many men over the years that she hid from her husband. And the first after her husband caught her cheating, forcing her under cover. That made him special to Sandi. He represented her declaration of her freedom. She was determined to have her sexual liaisons and keep them hidden from her husband. I was a matter of her will - she would fuck as she pleased and he would never discover it again. It became a challenge she was determined not to lose. 

She became involved with Robert by accident. Sandi was an RN. As their families grew closer, Sandi offered to help with his wife's (Susan) chronic back problems where she could. Susan's problems prevented her from sleeping in her bed. She could get at least minimal sleep, but only when sitting upright in an easy chair. During their initial conversations, Robert confided in her that this had some negative consequences in their marriage. 

Perhaps it was inappropriate when he shared with Sandi that, because of her back problems, they had not engaged in sexual intercourse in several years. He and Sandi both knew they shouldn't be discussing this while they were alone together, but Robert had a plan of his own that he wanted to try on Sandi, in hopes he could nudge her into fulfilling his fantasy of fucking her. This was a first step toward his goal. 

With this heart-felt, yet ill-advised confession, he activated her "RN gene." She immediately decided she needed to find some way to help. She knew in her heart that it was approaching a line by discussing this with Robert alone, and she knew her husband would not approve, but like before, her desire to help in such a similar situation led her to hide it from him. This time she trusted that she could maintain a "professional" distance. She had more experience with that now. And, truthfully, when she agreed to talk to him, she really didn't know what Robert was going to say. Robert has initiated his plan by introducing the subject of sex, or lack of, with his wife, and a sense of pity for himself that he hoped would awaken Sandi's demonstrated tendency to want to help in any medical situation. 

"Excuse me, that's a little personal, Robert." She said, trying not to sound shocked, or judgmental. 

"I'm sorry I said that, Sandi. I shouldn't have," He apologized. 

"No, It's OK. I understand your frustration. We just have to be careful, especially with just the two of us here without our spouses." 

"So far so good," he thought, "She's not running away, or stopping me." 

"We can do this some other time when our spouses can be here as well," he said, apologetically. 

She knew that would not happen with her husband, and she did want to help. It appealed to the side of her personality that liked to know "little secrets." It gave her a sense of power to know things that no one would want anybody else to know. 

"No, it's OK. We'll just be careful." 

"It worked! She would keep it secret. Now, what else would she keep secret? How far can I push her to go? All the way, I hope." 

She would not mention any of this to her husband. She reasoned, "Robert shared this with me in confidence. It would be wrong to share it with David." Convenient, and soothing to the conscience. The sheer fact was that she WANTED to do this. If for no other reason it would give her a chance to practice hiding something from her husband. She had been working out the details on keeping things hidden from him in her head for some time. So she would hide her "counseling" once again. It had gotten her in trouble before because she let it get away from her. This time she knew she could remain professional and offer help and advice without crossing the line. But it also excited her sexually. She wouldn't admit that, even to herself. But she had to know what kind of "help" Robert needed. 

So she continued, "Does your wife help you with that...um...issue?" 

"Well, she did for a while, but she stopped after a few weeks. I know she cares, but she doesn't help anymore at all. Are you sure you're OK with talking about this without our spouses here? We can wait." He was testing her further. 

"No, no. It's OK. We are grown ups and I'm a professional. We can do this. Please continue." 

"Well, OK. Anyway, she never was enthused 'in that area' to begin with." 

"Wow. That must be tough on you. As a man, I mean." She had to make a conscious effort to suppress the self-incriminating voices screaming in her head. Her situation was different, she reasoned. "Maybe I can talk to her, woman to woman. Wife to wife. That might help." 

"It might, but we've been to counseling. Even talked to the Pastor about it. It gets better for a while then reverts back. It helped me a lot when she did, but she really feels it's not her problem. She says she has enough trying to deal with her back, while maintaining some functionality for the things she must do. She feels I should take care of my own problem." 

"Well, maybe I can show her some things that are non-stressful." 

He just sat there looking sadly in her eyes, saying nothing. He could see her struggling in her mind. She still had not said "no." He was herding her to the decision he wanted her to make. He seemed to be saying something more. At that moment another gene activated, as the implications of this conversation occurred to her. 

"Something appropriate..." Her voice trailed off. This was wrong. "I wish...we, maybe..." her hands were trembling. "I can't," she thought. "But he needs help. 'Several years' is a long time for a man." (RN gene). Maybe I...no one would know..." ('other' gene). 

One part of her mind knew what she should do, but there were powerful feelings, born in the passion of an ancient illicit encounter, the ghosts of forbidden pleasures past, coursing through her most sensitive places, confusing her, jamming her system. Those feelings she remembered so well began to sway the argument. The "other" gene was gaining prominence. 

"How long did you say it had been, again?" she asked him. 

He let her founder on her own for a few moments. He felt she was right at the cusp of giving in. He knew he must say nothing further; the decision must be hers alone. But he must force her decision now. She was ripe. She was willing. He couldn't let her get away and possibly lose the momentum he had worked so hard for. 

Without a word he took a chance. He moved to the chair adjacent to the couch Sandi was sitting on. He reached across the corner of the coffee table and placed the palm of his hand softly on the inside of her jean-covered thigh just above her knee. His hand burned on her leg. He was not being presumptuous, but it was more than innocent. 

"Maybe he'll stop there," she hoped to herself. She didn't really know if she wanted him to or not. 

"She made no move with her body or her eyes to stop me. She wants it, just as I knew she did!" 

Then his hand slowly moved up her leg on the inside of her thigh. She did not stop him! Her eyes had followed his hand on its journey up her thigh. Her knees parted ever so slightly. He felt it. 

"I knew it. She is a bitch in heat." 

She looked up into his eyes. He looked back at her, pleading. She searched her mind for anything to slow this down. 

"Why me?" She blurted out. 

He jumped, then collected himself and calmly continued. 

"I have wanted this since the first time I saw you at church. I was glad when our kids hit it off and started hanging out together, asking to come over to our house. It meant I'd get to see you a lot more. And when you were here I wanted to be close to you - to touch you. But I had to be very discreet. There's just something about your body that makes me want to do nasty things. It's so different than my wife's. And everything works. Dave is a lucky man to have a body like yours whenever he wants." 

She did not miss the irony of his statement. She was using a strategy similar to his wife's to withhold sex from her husband. But Robert didn't know that. And she didn't want him to. Too many questions to answer. 

"Well, he does seem to appreciate it." 

There was a long pause, as neither wanted to be the one to confirm the direction of the conversation. 

"How long, again..." the last foothold was crumbling. 

"You're the only one who can help me, Sandi," He said, appealing to the RN gene. 

"What are you asking, Robert?" He was saying what she wanted to hear. He needed her. 

"Will you help me? It's not her fault; she would help me if she could. It's nobody's fault, really. She knows I'm doing this. She feels bad enough. She said if I need a little help and needed to look outside and be discreet, she would understand." "Give her the last permission she's looking for to justify continuing to completion." 

"I don't think she had me in mind." 

"I told her it had been very difficult to remain pure in mind. I'm in an excited state most of the time. Then she asked me if I had anyone in mind. I thought about lying to her, but I decided to tell the truth. I felt she deserved that. I told her I had been fantasizing about someone..." 

"Who?" Sandi asked, on the edge of her seat. The secret nugget she was looking for. 

"You." 

"Me? And what did she say?" His words shocked and excited her. He could see that he had appealed to her vanity. 

"She said she had seen me checking you out when your family came over. She also noticed that when your husband didn't come with you that I always seemed to be sitting by you at the table. She said I would move anyone who might be there already. She thought we touched a lot." 

"Wives notice things like that. I didn't notice it, but I always felt comfortable around you. 

"Me, too. About you, I mean. "The conversation rested for a minute. "I have another confession to make." He wanted to lead her to the next step. 

"What?" 

"All those times I sat next to you...I had an ulterior motive." 

"Uh-oh. What?" 

He leaned into her and in a conspiratorial tone and whispered, "I wanted to look down your shirt." 

"Robert! My shirt? You wanted to see my breasts." He was pleased. She had said the first overtly sexual utterance, as he had hoped. 

"I confess. I couldn't help myself. They're so full and heavy." He continued on this sexual path, becoming more explicit in hopes of getting her excited enough to do what he needed. "After you left I would fantasize about filling my hands with them, squeezing them. They're so irresistible." 

"I don't know what to say, Robert. I had no idea I was having that kind of effect on you. I'm flattered. Honestly. Thank you, I guess. I mean, thank you. I'm glad you like them." She lowered her hands and hefted them up and down. 

His strategy was having the desired effect; she was being swept up in the sexual tornado. Robert's eyes followed her hands, lingering. His hand began crawling up her inner thing, then left her thigh on its way to her left breast. 

She intercepted his hand, looking in his eyes, she asked, "Do you know what you're doing? Are you sure you're ready to take this step?" She was asking herself as much as him. 

"What's stopping us? You know, I know, my wife knows - we're not hiding anything. She's given her blessing." His logic seemed sound. 

"But my husband doesn't know. What about him? What's fair to him?" 

"You'll have to make that call. I talked to my wife and she's OK with it. You'll have to talk to him. Try to convince him it's some sort of therapy and you think it would help. You can give him whatever reason you think best." He had divested himself of any responsibility. "If you can't help me, I'll understand. I don't want to destroy your marriage." 

It seemed so sincere, but it carried its load of guilt, by design. He just wanted to push her a little further. He had given her a way out. But he also left her with a difficult decision. He didn't know how difficult it was for her, he knew nothing of her history. She knew for certain that her husband would NOT approve of this in any way, shape, or form. But she also knew that he wasn't the only one to consider here. Robert knew nothing of her infidelity years ago. Nothing of the feelings that had been unleashed back then. Or how, with great difficulty she had suppressed them, and the best she would ever be able to do was manage them. The genie could not be put back in the bottle. They would forever be there, lurking, waiting. Always. This is what she struggled with at this moment. 

She had mentioned her husband as an excuse, but she knew it was a cover for the real reason. She really did not care what he wanted. No, she was struggling with her own feelings that were now at a slow boil. She really wanted this. She felt she deserved it. That no one should be able to keep her from something she wanted. It was her decision alone. 

It was also a chance for her to stand up to what she considered was unfair. She felt her husband would like nothing better than for her to be chained at home. She was tired of this control that she felt was oppressive and unfair after her infidelity. She would get what she wanted, and make sure he would not discover it this time. She would get what she wanted all those years ago, but she would be more careful. He would not find out. The decision was not about Robert, but about her. 

She calmly made her decision. With Robert's hand still clasped in mid-air, their eyes locked, the storm was building. She brought it to her left breast, surrounding it. She drew in a quick, shallow breath and closed her eyes. This innocent caress set off tiny explosions in the lower parts of her body. The exhilaration from years ago came rushing back as strong as she remembered. Her body was bathed in endorphins. He kneaded her perfect breast for a few seconds, his left hand circling her right breast. She covered his hands with hers, pressing them to her chest. His touch promised only delight and indescribable pleasure. Her back straightened, her breathing quickened. 

She removed his hands. He looked into her eyes, questioning, disappointed. But she was the nurse here. She loved the feeling of power over him she felt right now. He would give her everything she needed - for a long time, and no one would ever know. He had as much to lose as she did. It was just too perfect. He deserved a reward. 

She reached down and pulled the bottom of her shirt up and over her head, exposing herself to his lustful, wanting gaze. He reached out for her breasts again and was blocked again, confusing him further. She reached around her back and released the hooks which kept her breasts encased in silk and lace. She pulled the straps off her shoulders, holding the cups to her chest. She sat up straight, removing her hands, the bra clinging only to her engorged nipples. A sensuous jiggle of her shoulders sent the bra to her lap, teasing Robert. She turned to face him. He stared for several long seconds, almost afraid to touch her, fearful he would be blocked again. She clasped her hands behind her head, pushing her exposed tits toward him. She rotated side to side from the waist, putting her perfect tits on display. She knew the effect this was having on him, being celibate for so long. 

Finally, she took his trembling hand and placed it on her bare breast. He sprang to life and his other hand quickly joined it. He touched her, his hands moving tenderly over her chest in an aura of reverence, but too carnal to be religious. She filled his hands so completely and wonderfully, and under his swirling thumbs, her nipples tightened into beads of arousal. 

"Robert..." 

"Sweet. So sweet..." he whispered. His fingers closed around her nipples. 

"You make them so itchy and tingling..." 

He squeezed, pushed, mashed, palmed, pinched and handled her. It seemed time stood still for them. It had been so long for him. His hands were remembering something he had never experienced before. He was so grateful to Sandi. 

Finally, she removed his hands and lay back with her shoulders resting in the corner of the couch. Her body lay at a 45° angle from the corner, her butt on the edge of the couch with her legs draped off. He thought she wanted him to resume his adoration of her tits, but she stopped him again. She had another idea. She thought he would like better. He would not be the only one to get what he needed today. She needed to feel that feeling of adoration from another man again. 

Her hands went to her belt and unfastened it, then the snap to her jeans. She directed him around to her feet, his excitement building in anticipation of more than he could have ever hoped for. 




The Church Elder



"Take my shoes off," she told him. He complied quickly. He knew now it was going to happen. "Take my pant legs and pull my jeans off." 

She raised her butt off the couch allowing the garment to clear her full, round ass, down her legs and off. Her panties were right behind. She lay quietly reclined, completely naked and let him adore her. She was basking in his lust for her. The rush was incredibly intoxicating for her. This is what she had missed since her infidelity. 

He looked down on her heavenly form, his approval evident and pulsing in his pants. Sandy lay there, panting hard, propped up on her elbows, thighs clenched together, chest heaving. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He removed his belt, lowered his pants and boxers in a single movement. He peeled off his shirt and kicked his flip flops under the coffee table. 

She followed his eyes from her tits, then slowly down her stomach to the thin patch of light brown hair crowning the Holy Land. They lingered there in anticipation. She spread her thighs slowly, deliberately, watching the wonder on his face. Like an eclipse of the moon, the object of his desire was coming into view. Her knees spreading further and further apart, until they stopped. So inviting. So blatant. So lewd. A position no respectable woman should ever find herself in with anyone but her husband. But here she was, on display, hiding nothing from Robert's hungry, lusting eyes. An Elder in their church. 

Her hand snaked its way to the junction of her thighs. Her fingers eased apart, and began to move. She separated and probed, lightly and gently, until she was wet and warm. She lightly dragged her middle finger up and down her slit, then again. As she reached the very top, she pulled her finger away, still attached by a string of her thick fluids. She brought her finger to her lips and "painted" them with her juices, motioning for him to lean down to her. 

As he did, she planted her lips on his, mashing and moving them around, them moving away. She indicated for him to lick his lips, along with the nectar she had just transferred. He did, his eyes wide. She reached again between her legs and this time inserted her two middle fingers deep in her pussy and began to stroke them in and out a few times before withdrawing and placing them on Robert's lips. She forced them open and pumped them in and out, cleaning them on his tongue. 

He had never tasted a woman's juices before. He had never experienced anything this sensual in his entire married life. He appreciated that Sandi was making this a lot easier than he had anticipated. 

She was so willing, eager even, so pliable. He attributed it incorrectly to himself. She reached out and pulled him by his dick so that he was standing between her legs. She made a velvet fist of her hand and slid it from the tip of his penis to the root. She moved her shoulders flat on the back cushions, pulling her legs up, holding them back. When her thighs parted, she nestled him between them. 

She was so soft, he was so hard. Her body throbbed with longing. 

"You can figure out where to go from here, Robert." 

"Thank you, Sandi. Thank you so much. I never dreamed you would do this much for me. You may have saved my marriage." 

"Or cost both our marriages. She will never look at me the same after this. She'll know I'm a cheating slut." 

All conversation stopped for the moment. She would deal with this later. Right now she needed to be fucked. She felt the tip of his dick breaching the petals of her pussy. He stretched above her and buried himself to the root. She purred, her mind bathed in licentious pleasures. He had forgotten how good it could feel. It had been so long. Maybe never THIS good. His wife was never this wet, this warm. Her tits never as desirable as Sandi's right now. 

He commenced thrusting in and out, slowly at first, then picking up speed. He could not hold back. He placed his hands on her tits, gently rubbing the sensitive nipples with the pads of his middle fingers. He cupped them and directed one to his lips. He planted tiny kisses on the nipple until it pushed its way between his lips. 

"You have the sweetest tits, Sandi...the sweetest...the..." 

Her hips undulated against the thrusts of his body. Every movement predestined to enflame his passion even more. She needed this. On every thrust he would bottom out solidly in her pussy, banging their flesh together noisily. It HAD been a long time, which meant he could not resist the assault of Sandi's pussy for very long. And after no more than 30 strokes, his dick swelled inside her, preparing to explode and coat her womb with the end of his celibacy. She felt him swell and shoved her hips up, slamming them into his pubic bone. She seized his hips, pulling them hard into her. She knew well what to do, it came so naturally to her. 

She shimmied her pussy back and forth quickly as he launched his first volley in three years. His release was long and scalding and splendid. He fell on her chest in exhaustion. They clung together, survivors of a turbulent storm. 

His lips found hers, expressing his abject admiration. His kiss was tender, but possessive. His dick shriveled until he plopped our of her pussy, trailing his seed, running down between her cheeks, coating her anus, then pooling on the couch. 

Suddenly spent, he could not keep his eyes open. He rolled off beside her on the couch, one hand still on her breast, gently rolling the nipple between his finger tips. 

"Sandi?" 

She was brought back to the present. 

"Hey, lover. Who else has this phone number? You got your dick in your hand thinking about me?" 

"Not yet, but give me 15 seconds and I can get that way. 

"Yeah, but you're there and I'm here. What good does that do me? 

"As good as it does me to have your tits there and me here. At least they're safe where they are." 

"Since when have we been safe? We like it on the edge." 

"I'd like it on the tip right now. I could do with a little adultery today." 

"Me, too. And fornication, too. Might as well commit 'em all while we're at it. It can't last forever. We'll get caught. We're gonna HAVE to be more careful. We have too much to lose." 

"You know, when it comes to fucking that body, the risk is worth the reward. The reward is just too fucking good. We just mesh together so well sexually. And in all the years we've been doing each other, it never gets old. I can't get enough of those tits and pussy." 

"It's the danger that adds to the allure. The rush of being caught. You can't get that with a spouse. So when can I get that dick splitting me open? I'm ready." 

"Not tomorrow, I've got to act like a farmer and work in one of the back fields. But the next day Susan's got somewhere to go. She'll be gone all evening until late. We could fuck ourselves to heaven then." 

"My pussy's hungry. I could..." She stopped herself in mid-sentence, suddenly remembering the new rules in her life. It had become such a part of her personality: hiding, secrets, smoke, mirrors. Her mind just went there automatically. She was still getting used to her new sexual freedom. 

Then, she was lost in her thoughts. "How do I tell Robert? What will he say? Will he agree to Dave being there? Filming? Dave will discover how long I've been doing Robert. I can see that disappointed look on his face, knowing I was holding back with him, saying I didn't need sex while banging someone almost every day. He just couldn't satisfy me anymore. I shouldn't have to do without." 

"Hello, you still there? He asked after the long silence. 

"Yeah. I was just thinking. Hey, Robert, maybe we can talk for a while next time." 

"OK. Sure," he said hesitantly, "Anything particular you got in mind? 

"No, no. Just there's been some things happening that are gonna affect us." 

"Nothing bad, I hope. I couldn't give your body up it I had to. You've got me hooked now, you know that." 

"Me, too, Robert. You have been special to me all these years. You filled in some gaps that were missing." 

"Yeah, especially one gap I can think of," he chuckled at his joke. 

"Jeez, Robert. Anyway it can be a good thing for us." 

"Really? How's that, Sandi?" 

"Not on the phone. Face to face." 

"It's my favorite position." 

"Good day, Robert." She hung up, rolling her eyes." This was important. She had to approach this correctly or she could lose Robert AND alienate her husband. The most difficult thing she will have to deal with was going to be how she would explain to him the size of Robert's dick. She had told her husband that she was addicted to BIG cocks. That was what he agreed to give her as a gift. Now, he would see that Robert did not have a big cock, but was her husband's size, and he would know that she had lied to him again, withholding sex from him while willingly fucking Robert's substandard dick. 

She would have to be careful with this. What would Robert say about the new rules? If he couldn't, could she give him up? Would she leave her husband for Robert? After his wonderful gift? She would look like the most selfish bitch alive if she left him now after he made such a huge concession to her. 

She never figured on all these complications, only a limitless supply of cocks pummeling her pussy. Be careful what you wish for. 

They lay in the familiar afterglow in each other's arms. He rolled over, resting on one elbow, leaning into her face. His tongue probed her mouth with slow, gentle thrusts that slammed her senses into chaos. Her arms seized him around the neck and pulled him on her. The furnace between her thighs was burning with want, aching with desire, pulsing with need. He positioned himself with her thighs bracketing his and plunged to the back of her heat. 

"Oh, God. I never get tired of that," she moaned. He set a rhythm in motion with his hips like waves on the shore - incessant. Building. It was savagely intense, totally feral, and passionately unbridled. Her hips raised toward him in search of deeper penetration. He tried to accommodate her by bearing down. That mysterious abyss grew wider, drawing Sandi closer. Then, it encompassed her being in an explosion of brilliant light. Her very soul was shaken with the most intense physical experience a woman can feel. Her back arched and she grasped the sheets in her restless fists. 

God, she loved this. What was it about Robert? He was no bigger than her husband. No better lover. Her husband studied sex to get better at it for her. So, what was it? 

"I have to go, Sandi." 

"Remember , were gonna talk?" 

"Yeah, you told me that. I forgot. You said it might have something to do with us, I remember." 

"Yes, I think it will be good," she tried to put a positive spin on it. "Dave and I had a serious talk the other night." 

"Mm-hmm." 

"About our sex life." 

"I thought that was pretty much D.O.A." 

"Pretty much. To me, anyway. But he asked me an interesting question. Do I need other men?" 

"He knows about us, doesn't he? I wondered if he did. Did he say anything?" 

"No, he still doesn't know about us. But I told him I DID need them. Then I waited for the mushroom cloud. But it never happened. He did something I thought he'd NEVER do in his lifetime. It was so out of character for him." 

"Wait, he knows you're been fucking other men behind his back? Does he know how far back it goes? How many men?" 

"Not all the details, but he probably knows more than I give him credit for. He pretty well knows I cheat on him, but not to what extent. I didn't give him any names. I just wanted to see where he was going with his question. I was sweating bullets when I told him 'Yes, I did.' He sat there for a long time. I could tell he was hurting, but he was resigned to the fact that I was a cheating slut, and that I wouldn't change, or ever be anything different. Then he looked at me and said, 'We'll have to add that to our sex life.'" 

"Unbelievable. He's gonna let you keep on fucking all those guys you have in your stable? 

"Unbelievably, yes. I was stunned. What a gift to give me. Quite a sacrifice for him to make." 

"Wow, just like that? What's the catch? There's gotta be a catch in there somewhere." 

"A couple. Nothing too drastic. Nothing to really interrupt us at all. We will be able to continue as we always have." 

"That's a relief. I've come to need your pussy. I can't even get an erection anymore with Susan. I think it's a relief for her. She never liked it anyway." 

"Robert! What's happened to us? Our spouses give us an incredible gift and we end up despising them. They sacrificed for our pleasure because they loved us and how do we repay them? By betraying their love, spitting on their sacrifice, cutting them off, and resenting them." 

"Does sound kinda selfish, doesn't it? But what are we supposed to be doing about it? They can't give us the satisfaction we need. It's not our fault." 

Sandi looked away. She didn't want to think about guilt anymore. She never told Robert she lied to her husband AND him - all to please herself. She didn't want either of them to know the truth. There was a time when this kind of double lie would have pricked her conscience. That time was long gone. She had separated herself emotionally from the world. It was hers to use as she pleased. No regrets. No remorse. And no accountability to anyone but herself. 

"Maybe it has nothing to do with whether they can give us sexual satisfaction, maybe it's us. Maybe we got it in our minds that we deserved more and refused to stop our quest to get it. That we didn't even give them a chance. Or whatever they did we were going to say it was not right or not enough. Maybe it was us." 

"How did we get here. It was just supposed to be some kind of relief for me because of Susan's back. What we're doing now, what this had degraded to is nothing short of pure selfish adultery. No other word for it. We don't even look at is as wrong anymore. It's like we're married to each other, but without the moral element of fidelity. More loyal to each other that the ones we made vows to. How did we get here today? I didn't want to be brought down, I just wanted to fuck you." 

"You gotta do something about that moral streak, Robert. It's starting to get annoying." She reached over, turning on his side and played with him. She needed him hard again. Her strokes were having the desired effect. After a few minutes he was ready to service her once again. 

She decided not to risk losing him, in case he could not live with the new rules, but instead, she would work out another way for Dave to be there and film without Robert knowing. She still wondered if Robert would have accepted the terms or not. Her own little exhibitionist streak tickled her libido. Maybe in the future. Right now, the size of his dick was her main concern, and how to keep all her hard-earned perks. 

It was the next time they got together that the new plan was implemented. Sandi & Dave discussed different options in an attempt to come to an agreement both of them could accept. 

It was like when they were first married, planning a major vacation trip. There was a long forgotten camaraderie that warmed them. They were both excited about the final product, but for different reasons. She'd get plowed with her favorite cocks, he got to watch. 

He wanted it perfect. In order to do that some preparation was necessary. No more motel rooms. That was what she told her regular "dicks." Her husband found out about them and was OK with them continuing because he wanted to see her happy. But as a compromise, they would fix up a room at their house for the purpose. For a little more anonymity. They all bought it. They were relieved they didn't have to give up Sandi's pussy AND they weren't gonna get shot. David had installed 8 hidden cameras in the room, a full audio system and a PC with several huge hard drives. The latest equipment available. All was put into a small room built behind a two-way mirror in a new wall in the room. 

They tested the system on themselves one night. They were both pleased with the results. The first "dick" to use the new setup was, appropriately, Robert. He was her first fuck after her infidelity, her first fuck in the New World. 

"This is nice, Sandi," he said, surveying the room. "What's under the hood?" 

"Glad you asked. King-sized bed, bamboo sheets & blanket, memory foam pillows, lots of them, fresh bamboo towels. In the top drawer of this side of the bed we have dildos, vibrators, in a variety of shapes and sizes. 2nd drawer, anal toys & lubes. 3rd drawer, light bondage toys, restraints, handcuffs, nipple clamps & paddles. Top drawer opposite side, personal lubes & genital stimulators. 2nd drawer, sex games. 3rd drawer, various sex books & how-to and misc. items. All in surround sound. Everything the liberated cheater needs to make their adultery more enjoyable." 

"You know, I wonder if infants have as much fun in infancy as adults have in adultery? Just a thought. Anyway, it's impressive. I can't wait to strap you down and wear you out. It's just a lot better that Dave knows and gives his blessing" 

"I wouldn't say he 'gives his blessing', but he is definitely on board with it." 

"So we can get together in the evenings now. That's a lot easier than me having to find another club to join that meets at a good time for us. It's hard to get away from the office." 

"We'll have all the comforts of home with the adjoining shower. Cheaper than a motel. What's not to love about it?' 

"Any thoughts as to how to christen the new Fuck Palace?" 

"Yeah. Let's fuck in it." 

"Original. Creative, even." 

"It gets the job done." 

"Are you teasing me now?" 

"What are you talking about, Robert?" 

"You're talking about 'jobs' and fucking and we still have our clothes on." 

"Speak for yourself, flaccid boy." And she began liberating her body at light speed. He matched her frantic pace. They both hopped on one foot trying to get their jeans off, shirts and undergarments flying everywhere, landing helter skelter around the new room. 

She finished first by a mere five seconds. She turned and sprinted to the bed, her heavy tits scurrying all over her chest. Robert followed right behind, diving for the bed landing just after Sandi. They were both laughing loudly. They had planned to make slow, gentle, sweet love, but in seconds it turned into a wild, untamable animalistic rutting, thoroughly satiating afterwards. They lay panting side by side. Her hand snuck over him. He was still hard and throbbing. 

"Feeling macho, are we?" He emitted a low growl. She lowered her head to his stomach, kissing him there. Her mouth inched closer to his hard shaft, moved to his thighs next and finally between them. He groaned his approval, his hips shooting up from the mattress, thrusting to meet her bobbing lips. She tickled his balls lightly as a counterpoint to the hard sucking she was inflicting on his dick. His fingers were entwined in her hair, pulling her head down with greater force until her nose bottomed out in his curly hairs. Sandi loved this aspect of sex. He was using her as a human Fleshlight for his sole enjoyment. He is getting close to heaven when she suddenly stopped. 

She crawled up his thighs and threw a leg over him. She lowered herself, taking his dick in one hand. She placed the head at the mouth of her hungry cunt. She moved it back and forth thru her sopping trench, wetting it in preparation. It was wet enough to drip down the shaft and pool in his pubic hair. She was driving him crazy as she slowly enveloped him, then withdrew just as slowly. 

It was agonizing, maddening. He arched his hips against her, trying to pull her down and bury himself farther inside her. Instead of further penetration, she would raise her pussy away. She knew just how to move, just how to drive him wild. They had been mating like this for years. His dick slipped inside her, drawing a breathy moan from her, then the teasing and torment, then inside suddenly again. Sandi's hips moved even more rhythmically, absorbing his arousal as they moved closer and closer to mutually assured sexual annihilation. 




The Church Elder



Then, finally, his hips lunged upward for the last time as his swollen dick injected her, basting her pussy walls with shot after shot of his cum. He could feel the tremors flowing through her, as she arched her back and drew her legs up, trying to get his dick deeper. She could feel the hot blast over and over insider her, triggering little mini-orgasms within, each tickling her nerve endings into an ecstatic state. She froze with him pointed toward the epicenter inside, as he unleashed his fountain. 

When it seemed all life functions had ceased, she lay with her tits spread out on his chest like two soft balls of dough. Both were heaving, re-saturating oxygen-depleted bodies. 

"God, that's enough for today. I can't take anymore," she huffed. Robert could not speak at all. She rolled off him and the bed, heading to the bathroom. When she returned he was buckling his belt, his shirt already on. He slipped on his shoes, carrying his tie in his hand. 

Sandi sauntered over to him, exaggerating the movement of her hips. Her shoulders more active than usual, swinging her tits back and forth in a synchronized erotic dance. She threw both arms around his neck deliberately rubbing her breasts and her thighs against him. He cupped her soft, round ass in his hands. 

"Why couldn't I have met you before I got married?" She lamented in a low voice smoky with passion, still lost in her orgasmic fog. He didn't know how to answer. 

"I gotta get going," he finally said and turned and left. 

She fell backwards on the bed, her arms out wide, legs parted widely. She didn't hear Dave come out of the AV Room. Her eyes were closed. He was as naked as she was. He stretched out on top of her, his legs entwined with hers. 

He entered her with a single swift, determined thrust, lifting her hips in his hands to penetrate her fully. Love and frustration drove him. This was a woman, HIS woman, moving with him. She responded, quivering beneath him even as he felt his own climax bearing down on him. 

His release was epic - they both felt it. He slumped to his elbows, still inside her, hovering over her. 

"Where did that come from?" She breathed hoarsely. 

"Where did that bullshit come from that you told HIM?" He said the last word with an emphatic accusation. 

"What?" 

"You don't remember? You don't remember telling him you married the wrong man? I have it on tape. You want me to play it back for you?" 

"That wasn't what I meant, David." She was just now coming out of her haze, barely catching blips of things that had happened. "Is that what I said?" 

"I quote, 'Why couldn't I have met you before I got married?' Remember now?" 

Her brain felt like an old time steam locomotive trying to get started, her wheels just spinning on the track. 

"I believe you, I just don't remember saying that." 

His heart breaking, he decided to let it pass. She didn't love him anymore. Was his gift a futile gesture? He felt like a fool. He would have some decisions to make. But not today. 

"Never mind. Get cleaned up. We'll go get some dinner." 

His voice carried no emotion.



The Church Lady



The day had barely muttered grayly through the closed window, had barely whispered in the tunnel of her pink ear, had only rolled once to stretch its clouded back and try to dim the sun with ash-cover that would deny the hour, when she knew. She guessed by the still of the apartment, by the strength of her own breathing, by the lack of a certain damp warmth against the question mark of her curved body.

Caleb was gone.

She opened her eyes wide when the thought dinned, cracked through the swollen, tired tissue of brain, and ached to find signs. The closet was tightly closed, a shut mouth with secrets. She saw no scatter of clothing, no comfortable chaos of comb, brush, and hair-gel on the surface of the dresser. She closed her eyes again and felt a moan quiver through the tumult of her body.

She knew. He was gone.

There was the sound of early morning buses in the early morning gray. She opened her eyes and willed her body to rise, conscious of each limb making its way through her cloud of mind, conscious of touching the sides of the bed to hoist herself, conscious of the metal feel of bed-sides underneath her fingers. All too conscious. She wondered if there was wine life, if there was anything to dull the ache of awareness, the ache of knowing the inevitable.

Maybe – she thought – maybe he'd gone for newspapers, for coffee.

But that was a thought from a magazine, from a television sit-com. Caleb never read newspapers, nor did he drink coffee. Caleb was restless enough without stimulus from the outside, without the heavy jolt of caffeine. No, she was the one who did those things, who always tried to assimilate some of the machinery of the everyday world into their daily existence, which sometimes seemed too surreal to bear.

She made her way to the refrigerator. It was 7:00 a.m. She poured a glass of cheap Zinfandel from the bottle on the shelf. The apartment was in its usual state of tangled suspension. Some of Caleb's unfinished sculptures littered the floor, body parts poised, juxtaposed in ways that jolted the viewer, that seemed, somehow, as if they were cast from someone who had just leaped off a building or been thrown from a car.

They were the physical manifestations of Caleb's violent restlessness, kept tightly under sullen lock and key. Part of his attraction, she had to admit, part of his attraction. She remembered Caleb the first time she had seen him, leaning heavily on a table at his own art exhibit. He had a glass of wine in his hand, but he was not drinking. Occasionally, he would bring the glass to his full lips, always thrust forward in his prominent pout, but the red line of the wine never got any lower, and she had thought he was spitting it back out. And so he was. Later, she would discover that he never quite trusted himself, that alcohol encouraged that part of himself, that tight, loaded-cannon part, of which he was terrified. It was his dark child, the one he kept firmly hidden in the cloak of his skin. His little Heathcliff, she thought now, ruefully. And it was this part of him, she knew, that would, one day, one hour, compel him to leave. Not too close, she had thought, I won't get too close and then he won't have an excuse to leave. I will be good, I will be quiet, I will not pry. I will let him be.

Now, she saw it did not matter. Would he return for the sculpture? Presumably, he still had the key. Yes, she thought, he would return, but when he could be sure she was not home. She knew, unequivocally, that she would not see him again.

She drained the wine glass and tried to decide how she felt. There was no furniture in the apartment, just mobiles of body parts turning softly in the great city breeze. She missed him already, missed him horribly, could feel the hole his absence would tear into her skin and into her body. She tried to think of what she would miss, tried to give it substance, so that she could give herself a proper form of grieving, a proper burial. Yet, she noticed a certain tension had lifted from her skin, the tension she had felt since she and Caleb had moved in together, the tension that, when she left herself think about it, made her body, skin, limbs, feel like the limbs of Caleb's statues, of his mobiles, the ones that were, somehow, out of joint, or kept in check with thin, strong fish wire.

She thought about this, and glanced at the drained glass. Well, she thought leave it to a glass of cheap white Zin at 7:00 a.m.

Still, she knew that was not it. Then she laughed. She suddenly thought of Caleb in his black trench coat, in his sneakers, in his wire rims and long hair. He's the one, she thought, whose body is out of whack, he's the one. Then, aloud, "Damned artists." And again, she laughed.

She left the apartment, knowing she had to get out of the shadow of Caleb's twisted, twisting torsos. 

She walked down Second Street, ignoring the homeless who reached out their hands, palms outstretched and wavering. She shuddered, as she always did, at the sound of the buses, with the feeling that she was too close to the street, that the driver would not see her, that she would, inexplicably, become a part of the gray belly of the machine, and the gaseous animal would drive off, ignorant of consuming her.

She walked by Our Lady of Something-Or-Other, the Church that always seemed to be belching strong incense into the smells of the street. Abruptly, once she had passed it, she returned and stood outside its gates. There was a lush patch of lawn inside the iron gates, and she looked at it with envy. It was so rare in this city, with its houses pressed close, its tiny yards patches of burnt, brown weeds. There was singing, hymns, coming through the open door -- Vestry? -- she thought oddly -- Was that what church-doors were called?

She walked in. The interior of the church was dark wood, and there was, somewhere, red, though she would have been hard pressed to identify where. She saw to her relief that there was no service, just the church choir practicing in front of the church. She saw the black cowl of a nun's habit dotting the small crowd of women. What would it be like, she thought, What would it be like to be married to God? She thought of a scene from a movie she had seen when she was younger - - of a nun, taking her vows, taking her veil and her new name, lying prostrate in front of a priest. There had been something, she remembered, vaguely sexual in the scene, in the obvious submission of the nun, in the lordly, voyeuristic way the priest had conducted the rite.

They did, she knew, wear wedding rings.

As quietly as she could, she walked to a pew in the back the church. To her relief, no one looked up from the hymnbook, no one raced ahead to kick her out or to shout "Heretic."

She sat down and looked around, at the stained-glass windows that held Cubist-looking pictures of Crucifixion, of Christ falling, of his whipping, of the thorns that seemed to make his head bleed as big rosy drops of glass. The windows reminded her of Caleb's sculpture, and she imagined for a minute the mobiles from the apartment suspended from the ceiling, the sculptures placed in the four corners of the church. They would not, she thought, seem out of place.

She noticed a red cover of the hymnal, tucked in a holder on the back of the pew directly in front of her. She picked it up, thumbed through it. The sound of the choir soared, occasionally broken by an out-of-tune singer, or someone in the wrong key. There was a pipe organ, and the sounds bellowed through the cavern of the building. Idly, she tried to find the hymn they were practicing, but could not. She focused on the words, picked up something about the color blue, something about the son.

She closed her eyes, hymnbook in lap. The sounds soared again, and she imagined clouds, treble clefs in the sky, and a picture came to her -- for years, her grandmother had, stuck with a magnet on her refrigerator, a picture of a handsome Jesus, a laughing Jesus. He had brown hair, she remembered, and it was long - - the picture must been created in the 1970s because he looked like an Israeli hippie. She felt the warm haze of the wine she had drunk, smelled the incense that burned through the wood of the church, felt the music of the nuns lifting her arms, straightening and soothing them back into natural contours.

Her hands fell to the hymnbook in her lap. Almost unaware of her own actions, she pressed the book between her legs, felt her pubis throb against red leather. The color of blood, she thought, though her eyes were closed, The color of blood. Her hips were writhing now, and she felt the hard nub of her clitoris rise to meet the package of words, the book that held the songs that soared, like birds, around her numbed mind. She felt the rush of panic when for a minute the cloud cleared and she realized what she was doing. But, she thought, it's dark, and anyway, Caleb's gone. She pressed the hymnbook more tightly against her denims, and touched her face lightly with one of her fingers, letting it slide lightly over her lips, her eyes, enjoying the feel of her face, of her skin, in a manner that Caleb never had. She imagined the Jesus of her Grandma's picture, and he was before her, laughing, and his robe was open. She wanted to laugh with him too, wanted to ask him to run naked in the rain with her, wanted to drink wine -- maybe he could make some? – with him. She felt the chuckle burgeoning from her chest and she wondered, somewhere, when she had last chuckled. She threw her head against the back of the pew, heard the swell of the choir, and felt herself shudder in restrained violence. He was holding her, her Grandma's Jesus, holding her, touching her face and her breasts and the swollen lips of her vagina, her engorged clitoris, and she thought, for a minute, that she must be Mary Magdalene. He made her come, concentrating only on her, on her body, her needs, on the wonderful deluge of fluids she felt seeping through the crotch of her jeans. Caleb never touched me like this, she heard herself confess to Jesus, He never really touched me at all...

She noticed the silence.

She opened her eyes and saw that the choir had gone, that she was alone with the hymnbook, with the wood interior, with the lingering thoughts of her Jesus, the Jesus that have given her hope, had given her, somehow, herself.

Knowing this, she stood up, let the hymnbook fall to the floor with the soft thump of leather against wood, and walked out of the church, into the day that had now brightened and burned off the gray.



The Church Lady Comes to my Door



Great thanks to my editor dobob80 and for the insights of leftyloo and lancerval.

This is a tale of seduction and a little bit of romance. I hope you enjoy it.




I'm Reyna; I am a twenty two year old confirmed lesbian, but under the right circumstances I can look like I'm sixteen. Not only am I a lesbian, my preferred lovers are women who have never had a lesbian experience before. I love older women, ladies that are bored with their lives, their husbands, their routines. I love the ones that never see me coming, ones that want to mother me, to make it all better. The thing is; they mostly seduce themselves. I don't force them; I lead them where their bodies want them to go.

I don't have any special gaydar that makes me able to pick out the ones that are most susceptible; I strike out as much as the next girl. But, when I do hit on one that is curious, even if she doesn't fully realize it, I am ready, more than willing and able to quench that curiosity.

Sometimes, when I succeed, we'll have an affair that lasts a little while. Those mostly come to an end when they start feeling guilty and toddle back to their staid, boring lives and hubby's bed. Most times, though, we'll have a torrid, smoking hot couple of hours, after which my lover, realizing what she's done, runs shrieking from my bed. As bad as it sounds, those are my absolute favorites. There is terrific, mind blowing, enthusiastic sex followed by no worried phone calls, no drama, no fretting over whether or not I love them, they're just gone. I have never heard from any of those again. If I see them out anywhere, like in a store, when they recognize who I am, they turn and run. It's actually pretty funny.

My first lover was my mom's best friend. She's probably a big part of the way I am. There was nothing planned, it just happened while we were working on a surprise party for my mom. We got close by spending so much time together. One day, when a particularly difficult problem was resolved, I got excited and threw my arms around her and gave her a big kiss. It quickly turned passionate and the next thing I knew we were in her bed with our faces in each other's pussy. To this day, whenever Evelyn is feeling frustrated with her marriage or is irritated with her husband, I'll find her on my doorstep. Sometimes, she'll stumble onto a little fling that I'm having and if my friend is agreeable, she'll join in. Most times, though, she and I are just having fun. To this day, I still learn something from her every time we are together.

My latest seduction took place this past Saturday. I got up and got dressed to do my weekly housework. I put my long, brown hair up in pigtails, an old, very short, jean skirt and a V-neck crop top that showed a great deal of cleavage and if I were to bend over, the bottoms of my round C-cup boobs. I didn't put on any underwear, because I got busy last week, didn't do the laundry and had worn my last clean pair of panties and bra to work yesterday. I figured I was just going to be home alone all day, anyway.

The first thing I did was to change the sheets on the bed and make it. I tossed the dirty sheets onto the pile of clothes in the laundry hamper. I picked up everything, dusted and vacuumed the bedroom and it was finally spotless. As I was carrying the laundry to the laundry room, I looked in the spare bedroom, where there's a twin bed, my desk and computer. It was still a disaster from when I was doing some work I brought home earlier in the week. I sighed because I have an issue with throwing things down when I am finished with them. It's an old habit from when I lived at home and my mom picked up after me. I hate that about myself, but I can't seem to stop.

I stopped in the living room and looked at the mess in there and realized that I would have to clean that room up while the washing machine and dryer were running. 

Anyway, I finished dragging all the laundry to the laundry room and was sorting out the different piles when the doorbell rang. Grumbling at the interruption, I trudged from the back of the duplex to the front door. I keep it closed so that when I look through the peephole and someone is there that I don't want to see, I don't answer it.

This morning, however, I looked out at a thirty-something vision in white. As I opened the door I could see that she had blonde hair done up in a French twist, a big floppy white hat, a very, very demure white sundress, white hose and fashionable, yet sensible white sandals. She had cornflower blue eyes with long blonde (so she's a natural blonde, I wonder if she's blonde everywhere I thought naughtily) eyelashes, a cute little nose and perfect little dimples. She looked like a grown-up cheerleader and I love cheerleaders. The sun shining behind the white dress showed a tasty hourglass figure. Her legs were perfect in the white stockings peeking out from beneath the knee length dress. 

She was holding a small purse, a bible and what looked like a bunch of flyers. Her first question made my decision for me and sealed my response. 

Before I could speak, she said, "Hi, sweetie, are either your Mom or Dad home?"

My first thought was, 'Yeah, probably, at their house.' But instead, putting a little quiver my voice I said, "Daddy doesn't live here and my Mom isn't here." Both answering statements were true, just waaay out of context. 

I sniffled a little and the look on her face turned sympathetic. 'Gotcha!' I thought wickedly.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" The sympathy in her voice was sincere and her touch on my arm was electric.

I sobbed once and turned, allowing her to see the single fat tear rolling down my cheek. "N-n-nothing. Y-y-you d-d-don't w-w-ant t-t-to h-h-hear m-m-my p-p-problems."

"Sweetie, what's your name?" She asked softly. "Maybe I can listen to you and make you feel better."

"R-r-reyna L-l-lucas." I stammered, "Wh-wh-what's your n-n-name?"

"Belle Thompson." She said, sticking her hand out.

I smiled a little, taking her hand, "Belle, like a southern Belle?"

"See, it's not so bad, I made you smile," Belle said, smiling herself, "and yes, Belle like a southern Belle. Do you want me to come in so we can talk?"

'Holy shit! She's making this easier by volunteering.' I was getting more excited by each passing moment.

I just nodded and turned, reluctantly dropping her soft, smooth hand. As I walked into the living room, I acted as though the mess would make trouble for me.

"Oh my gosh!" I squealed, "My Mom's gonna kill me for letting somebody see the living room like this!" 

(Again, true, but out of context, my mother would kill me for allowing a guest to see my home like this, even though it was my home.)

I started rushing around picking stuff up. I was careful to let my boobs flash out of the shirt and bent over far enough to let Belle see that I wasn't wearing panties. I twisted around to grab some more stuff and to see where her eyes were. 

'Yesss!' I thought, as her eyes were clearly glued to my ass.

She didn't see me looking at her and she looked a little flustered. I moved a few feet to make certain that she was watching me closely, and got my confirmation because her eyes never left my ass. I rushed out of the room with an armful of stuff and put it in the laundry room. I paused in the laundry room to assess my situation and chances. She had definitely been watching my ass. So she was either shocked or intrigued and I had to find out which. I pulled the left side of my crop top up and tucked it under, just barely exposing the deep pink aureole of my hardened nipple.

I rushed back into the living room to find her frozen to the spot where I left her. She was staring at the floor and the noise I made coming in startled her. Her eyes flashed to my face, but not before pausing and widening at the partially exposed breast.

"I, uhhh, I p-p-probably n-n-need to g-g-go..." She stammered.

'Probably? So she's unsure? Nice!' I thought.

I started to cry, "Noooo, please don't go..." I pleaded, "my mom'll kill me if I made such a mess that a guest left..."

I threw myself on the couch, hands over my face, fingers carefully spread so I could watch her, my legs splayed, exposing my waxed bald, and wet, glistening pussy. I almost laughed; her eyes had gotten cartoonishly wide, nearly bugging out of her head. I squirmed around, briefly rubbing my legs together, hiding my pussy momentarily. When I exposed it again, the tip of her pink tongue barely escaped her lips and licked, leaving them moist.

I pulled my hands away from my face to show her the big tears sliding down my cheeks. As I hoped, her motherly instincts took over and she rushed over to sit at my side and drew me into her arms.

"Shhh, baby, don't cry," she murmured in a soothing voice, "it's OK; we won't let you get in trouble. Let Belle make you feel better."

She had pulled my head to her chest, my cheek resting on her nice, round, soft breast. We sat there for a few moments before I craned my neck up to kiss her on the neck. I let my tongue glide out between my lips to give her a minute lick. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to make her wonder if that was what happened. She stiffened.

"I, uhhh, don't think that's appropriate, Reyna." She said softly. But, her tone was not dismissive, it was more plaintive, as though she liked it, but thought she shouldn't. I kissed her neck again, this time with more tongue and her breath caught. 

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I was trying to thank you for being nice and I thought a kiss would be nice."

I feigned struggling to stand up, causing her dress to shift up above her knees. I threw my leg over her legs and rubbed my pussy on her knee. I got to my feet and glanced down at her knee. It was damp and I grinned to myself as I looked at her eyes as she looked at it. Her eyes shifted to my face and quickly I returned to the saddened look.

"I, I, I'm so, so, sorry." I mumbled as I ran to the guest room.

I threw myself on the bed that was barely big enough for me, spreading my arms and legs. I wanted to show off my bare bottom and pussy, but I also wanted to make the bed seem as small as possible. I listened intently as at first, there was silence in the living room then the sounds of Belle standing up from the couch. There was silence again as she was obviously deciding what she wanted to do. This was the first crucial moment of my seduction. She had to come in here on her own. Finally, I heard her moving and I couldn't tell where she was going. It was excruciating just waiting for her, but it was also absolutely necessary. It also heightened the anticipation and my desire. I was soaking wet by this time. Then, at the door to the guest room, I heard her voice.

"Reyna?" She whispered, "Are you OK?"

I shook my head in the pillow. "I'm in so much trouble," I mumbled into the pillow.

I heard her take several steps and sit on the edge of the bed. Her hand rested on the bare skin of my back, below the crop top and just above the waistband of the jean skirt. 

'Oh god, her hand is so warm and soft. Control yourself, Reyna, you're almost there.' I thought.

"It's OK, sweetie," Belle said soothingly, "we'll make sure you won't be in trouble. Let me help you feel better."

She gently rubbed my back and tried to get me to roll over. I resisted for a moment and then when she slid her hand to my side, I suddenly sat up, filling her hand with naked boob and rock hard nipple. I didn't give her a chance to react and withdraw her hand, capturing it between us as I threw myself into her arms. Her hand didn't move, but I was too forceful and knocked us onto the floor.

I was lying on top of her, her hand now gripping my boob, and we both started giggling. "Oops," I said, "sorry about that."

I started to sit up and noticed that her hand didn't leave my breast. I took a deep breath, assuring that her hand was filled with warm, soft breast. I let the breath out, hitching with a sob as I did. 

"Sweetie?" Belle murmured, "what's wrong?" I noticed that her hand had not left my breast.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "You were being nice, and I'm such a spaz that now we're on the floor and your pretty dress is gonna get dirty."

"OK, then," she said, finally releasing my boob, "let's get up."

I lay there for a moment, not moving. I raised my head and said, "I'm sorry, it just feels so good to have someone close to me, and Mommy hasn't held me for a long time."

"Ohhh, baby," Belle murmured, "I'll hold you if you want."

I lay my head on her shoulder and she giggled. "But, not on the floor."

I giggled, too. "Sorry."

As we struggled to our feet she said, "Please stop apologizing, you've done nothing wrong."

"OK, sor..., uhhh, OK." I mumbled.

She looked doubtfully at the tiny bed. "Could we go back out to the living room? I'm afraid we'll end up on the floor again."

"No, the living room is so messy," I said, taking her by the hand. "The other bedroom is clean; I always have to do that one first. Let's go in there."

She stopped, still holding my hand. "Are you sure it'd be OK with your Mom? I don't want her to come home and find us and misunderstand."

"Yeah, it's OK," I assured her; "she's out and won't be here until tomorrow sometime." (Mom usually visits on Sunday afternoon while Dad is watching whatever sport is currently in season.)

Belle allowed me to lead her into my bedroom. My queen sized canopy bed was the centerpiece of the room. When I moved in here I made the room that I had always wanted. 

"Wow, this room is beautiful." Belle said.

I started to say thanks, but I remembered that this was my "Mom's" room. "Yeah, my mom likes frilly things."

I pulled down the white comforter, revealing the deep red linens that matched the walls. I scrambled up on the bed, giving Belle a good look at my bottom and pussy. I quickly turned around so that I could see her reaction. She had that 'deer-in-the-headlights' look that is so priceless. She saw me watching her and quickly recovered. She bent, took off her sandals and approached the bed. 

She started to climb onto the bed and I stopped her. "You're gonna get that pretty dress all wrinkled. Why don't you take it off and hang it up." She hesitated, obviously thinking that it would be wrong. 

I whispered encouragingly, "Don't be shy; we're all girls here."

She had stopped with one knee still up on the bed. The doubt and confusion was evident on her face. Finally, she pulled her leg down and walked over to the closet. Another critical moment had arrived. Like coming into the bedroom, she had to take her own dress off. Hopefully, her mind wouldn't register that the clothing in the closet was much too young for a woman my mother's age. 

She pulled a hanger out without paying attention to the clothing in the closet. She hung the hanger on a hook on the inside of the closet door. Reaching behind her, she hesitated before pulling down the zipper. I tried not to stare as the white sundress hung on her shoulders before she shrugged and it dropped to her waist. I was stunned by what was revealed. I expected to see a plain, white cotton, sturdy bra; instead she was wearing a Victoria's Secret Very Sexy Demi Bra. I knew what it was because I had one just like it. The slight push-up gave her cleavage and the name of the bra was extremely appropriate, she was very sexy.

She bent at the waist and pushed the dress down off of her hips. She caught it before it fell to the floor and stepped out of it. She turned and hung the dress on the hanger. I was breathing hard at this point, trying to control myself. I had expected pantyhose, but incredibly, she had on thigh high stockings held in place by a white lace garter belt, over white lace boy shorts. Her beautiful skin was flushed in embarrassment as she turned to fully face me.

"Now it's my turn to apologize," she murmured, eyes cast on the floor, "until I pushed the dress down, I had forgotten what I was wearing underneath. I bought these on a whim when an old friend dragged me into the store. I keep them hidden from my husband; he wouldn't approve. I am so embarrassed. I don't normally dress like this, but I just felt like it today. I don't know why."

"Belle," I whispered, barely able to breathe, "don't be embarrassed. You are incredibly beautiful and I feel like a toad next to you."

She smiled and said, "Thank you, but you shouldn't feel like anything but a princess. You are a beautiful girl."

She walked to the bed, climbed in and lay down. The contrast between Belle's fair skin, her blonde hair, the white lingerie and the deep red linens took my breath away. She lifted her arms and reached out to me. I crawled over to her, taking a route that put my head higher than hers. When I lay down I giggled because my boobs were in her face and then slid down so that my head was on her shoulder. My crop top slid up and my bare breasts rested warmly against the naked skin of Belle's side and tummy. My skirt had also ridden up and I pressed my wet pussy to the outside of her thigh, between her panties and the top of her stockings. Belle gasped, but did not pull away. I snuggled into Belle's neck and loosely threw my left arm across her the soft skin of her firm stomach. Belle wrapped her left arm around me and her hand rested on my side, just below my boob, hugging me to her. My heart beat faster and my pussy moistened even more.

"How does this feel sweetie?" Belle asked gently.

"Ohhh, it feels sooo nice." I moaned. "I'd forgotten how nice it feels to be held."

Belle took her free hand and picked up the pigtail that was draped across her chest. I watched as she played with the hair, running her fingers through the silky strands.

"Your hair is so nice and soft," Belle murmured.

"Thank you," I whispered, running my fingers across the skin of her tummy. "Your skin is awesome. It's so smooth and warm."

She said nothing, but continued to run her fingers through my hair. I slipped my fingers up to the bottom of her bra and felt along the edge. I felt her breathing pause, but she didn't say anything.

"Your lingerie is so pretty, Belle, I really like it." I said softly.

"Thank you sweetie." She answered.

Emboldened by her lack of resistance, I traced completely around the cup of her bra, running my fingers along the top edge and brushing her cleavage. She gasped, but other than that did not respond or resist the feathery light touch of my fingers. I turned my head and kissed the cleavage of the breast nearest my lips. I let my tongue trace along the skin, before withdrawing my lips. This time she didn't gasp, just lay very still, the rapid beating of her heart evident through her chest.

I became bolder, kissing the skin of the top of her breast with tiny, light kisses and stroking the skin of the other breast with my fingers. Her breathing had changed, it became deeper and slower. Her left hand started stroking my side, venturing to the exposed bottom of my boob. Her right hand abandoned my hair and stroked the side of my face. I slipped the fingers of my left hand into the top of her bra and she briefly froze, and then continued stroking my cheek and side. Her left hand became bolder and stroked the underside of my breast. She cupped my chin and raised my face to look at her face.

Her eyes were shining, her pupils dilated and her lips were parted. Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. I knew in that moment that I had her. I raised my face to hers and she met my lips in a soft, tentative kiss. As we kissed, I slipped my tongue through my lips and grazed her bottom lip. She moaned, opening her lips and allowing me full access to her mouth. She didn't meet my tongue, content to allow me to softly explore her lips and teeth. While I had her occupied with my lips and tongue, I slithered my right hand behind her back and in a much practiced move, released the clasp of her bra. She gasped, yet again and withdrew her lips from mine. I rolled up on my elbow so that I was looking down into her face.




The Church Lady Comes to my Door



"Reyna?" She whispered, "What are you doing?"

Before covering her mouth with mine, I slipped my left hand under her bra and gently pinched her erect nipple. Then I murmured, "Exactly what you want me to do," before lowering my mouth to hers.

She moaned into my mouth and thrust her tongue into my mouth. I pulled my right arm out from under her back, and sat up. She followed my lips with hers, not wanting to break contact. 

I finally broke away and sat up completely. She moaned in disappointment. I took her white, delicate bra in my hands and tugged it from her body, tossing it to the side. She blushed cutely and covered her breasts with her hands. I pulled my crop top over my head and we were both topless.

"Don't cover yourself." I whispered, pulling her hands away, exposing her perfect B-cup breasts. "You're incredible. I love your big, pink, puffy nipples."

I leaned forward and took one in my lips, gently sucking it into my mouth, scraping it with my teeth. My eyes never left hers. She thrust her chest at me in wanton desire. Then, as she was about to lose all control, a cloud came over her eyes.

She pushed me away and covered her breasts, again. "We can't do this! You're too young! I'm not a pedophile!"

I gently pulled her hands away and said, "No, you're not. I'm twenty two. This is my apartment."

Confusion took over the concern in her eyes and was quickly replaced with a touch of anger. 

Before she could speak, I said softly, "I haven't lied. Everything you think you know about me was implied and you filled in the blanks by assuming."

This was the breaking point, either her hormones would win, or her rationality would. I pushed her hands from her breasts and waited, stroking her nipples while she considered her options. Her hands were loosely on my wrists, not impeding me in any way. After several long moments, her eyes slowly closed and she pulled my hands tighter against her chest.

'She's mine!' I thought triumphantly.

I leaned back in and brought my lips to hers, softly, gently. Her hands left my wrists and went to the back of my head, pulling me deeper into a kiss. Her lips were soft but insistent, her tongue active. I teased her nipples and she moaned as I increased the pressure on them and on her lips. Her hands left my head and found the naked skin of my shoulders and rubbed gently, but tentatively. 

I knew she wanted to explore, but was unsure of herself. I sat up, reluctantly breaking our tender kiss. Once again, she moaned in disappointment, but I needed her to touch me. Gently, I took her hands on placed them on my breasts. Her eyes got wide and she didn't pull them away, but left them still. My nipples hardened further into her palms and her eyes widened as she felt them. I pulled my chest back a little, and then rotated my chest causing my nipples to drag in circles in the palms of her hands. She gasped and started moving her hands in the opposite direction of my rotation. The friction on my nipples was delicious. 

While she was engrossed in the sensations of feeling breasts not her own for the first time, I started squirming around to get my skirt off. I was careful not to pull my breasts away from her tender exploration. I got the little skirt over my hips and then down my legs. Finally, the skirt was across my feet and I kicked it to the floor.

Completely naked, I swung my leg over Belle and settled my hot, dripping pussy on the soft, warm skin of her tummy. I watched as her eyes shifted from watching her hands caressing my breasts to my bald pussy writhing on her firm stomach. Her eyes widened as her hands stilled. She watched as I rocked my hips and left a wet streak on her stomach. Her hands left my boobs and started to drift to my pussy. Suddenly she stopped and a panicked expression overtook her face, obliterating the look of desire that had been building there. 

"What is it baby?" I whispered gently.

She choked out, "I don't know what to do..." Her eyes were pleading with me.

I smiled at her and said, "Just do what you do to yourself."

She flushed again, this time she turned lobster red. With downcast eyes she whispered, so quietly that I could barely hear her, "I don't touch myself, I've never touched myself, and I don't know what to do..."

I was stunned. "You mean you've never masturbated?"

I didn't think it was possible for her to get any redder, but she did. She shook her head violently. She didn't utter a sound.

I pulled her up and hugged her to me. "It's OK, baby. Let me help you, let me show you what to do."

I climbed off of her and crawled behind her. I sat on my feet behind her and pulled her up onto my lap. I kissed her shoulder and her neck to reassure her while I moved her around into the position that I wanted her. She was sitting on my lap, but her legs were bent so that her knees were on the bed. I spread her legs so that both of us could see down to her pussy. 

After I was done arranging her, I let my hands play over her belly and down to her thighs. I kept clear of her pussy, because I didn't want her to freak out. I kissed and licked and nuzzled at her neck, making her feel comfortable and loved. I could feel her relaxing in my arms. I moved up and down her shoulder with my lips and tongue, softly caressing her skin. She started making soft cooing and moaning sounds and I knew she was fully back into my soft lovemaking. Her head lolled back and she was totally relaxed.

My hands drifted back up across her soft tummy and I gently cupped her breasts. She raised her arms and caressed the back of my head and pulled me tightly to her. I kept gently massaging her breast with my left hand and moved my right hand down to the fabric over her pussy. She hissed; a sound of surprise mixed with desire. I rubbed gently over her mound as her hips starting rocking in my lap. I knew she wanted something, even though she probably didn't know what she wanted. I reached over and took her hand in mine, guiding it to her pussy. 

"Oh!" She squeaked quietly, resisting the motion.

"No, you need to do this, Belle." I encouraged softly. "In order to learn what your own body likes and wants; you need to touch yourself."

"But...OK," her whisper was so soft that I barely heard it. 

I put my hand on top of hers and guided it to her pussy. We rubbed softly over the soft lace of her panties, the moisture behind the fabric becoming evident. She was content to continue rubbing and I removed my hand from hers and enjoyed watching her small hand rubbing herself for the first time, ever. Soon, I knew it was time to take the next step. 

"Belle," I whispered in her ear, "you need to touch yourself."

Even though I couldn't see her face, I could hear the confusion in her voice. "But, I am."

"No, Belle," I continued to whisper, "you're touching your panties. You need to touch yourself, inside your panties."

"Ohhhh..." she moaned.

Gently, I removed her hand from the front of her panties, and pulled the waistband out. I peered over her shoulder and she averted her head and eyes, embarrassed that I was looking. What I saw made my heart beat faster. She was almost bald, but not from shaving. She had just a tiny bit of what looked like gossamer silk, white blonde hair covering her mound, much like a young girl.

"Oh, baby," I cooed in her ear, "your pussy is just as beautiful as the rest of you. All delicate and tiny with pretty blonde hair. I love it."

My cheek was against hers as I was leaning over her shoulder. I felt her smile and I smiled, too. 

"Now, put your fingers down there and feel what an excited woman feels like. " My voice was low and sweet, I didn't want to make her nervous.

She pushed her fingers down into her panties and gasped as she made contact with her pussy. "Ohhh, it's so wet. Is that right? Did I wet myself?"

I could feel the flush of her embarrassment from the contact of her skin against mine.

"No, baby," I whispered, "you didn't wet yourself, that's your body reacting to being sexually excited, and I'm guessing that it's the first time ever. Now, feel around down there. Do you feel a little hard bump? Touch that and rub around it."

She jumped as she touched her clit for the first time. "Unghhh..." was the only sound she made.

"That's your clit, baby and that is part of what makes sex feel so good." I continued to explain. "If you keep rubbing and playing with it, the good feelings will only keep getting better and stronger."

I stopped talking and kissed the soft skin of her neck. My hands drifted back up to her breasts and her big, puffy nipples had hardened into little bullets. I held her breasts, I caressed them, and I kissed her while she learned a little about her womanhood.

"Oh, oh, ohhh..." she murmured, "what's that... what's h-h-happening? Aaaaaeeeeeiiii!" She shrieked as she experienced her first orgasm.

I held her as she shivered and shook and finally slumped in my lap. I slid her over and lay her on the bed. I just had to get at her pussy, so I hunched over her, unsnapping the garters from the hose. I wanted to leave the hose on as well as the garter belt so I started tugging on her boy shorts, trying to get them off. She lay still without helping and finally raised her hips, perhaps not wanting to acknowledge that she wanted this. I pulled the panties off her feet and threw them on the floor.

I scooted back up and started hooking up the stocking to the garter belt again. Belle picked up her head and looked down at me. 

"What are you doing? Don't you want me naked?" Her voice was trembling a little. "I thought you wanted me naked like you."

"No, baby," I cooed, "what I want is you, looking all virginal and sexy in your bridal white stockings and garter belt."

I leaned down and kissed her, softly and gently, reassuring her that it was all OK. She melted into the kiss, her arms stealing around my neck, once again. I started to sit up and pull away, but she was having none of that. She followed me and ended up on my lap, once again.

She pulled away from the kiss, looking into my eyes and blushing. "Was that an orgasm?" She asked shyly.

"Yes, baby," I answered quietly, "that was an orgasm. Did you like it?"

"Ohhh, yesss," she hissed, "Can I do that to you? I want to touch your, your..." she stopped, embarrassed.

I grinned, "My what?"

"Your vagina!" She said proudly and a little defiantly.

"Vagina?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that a little clinical? Maybe Victorian?"

She huffed, seemingly exasperated. "Well, what do you call it?!?!"

"A pussy." I said simply.

She flushed a bright red. "That's nasty!"

"No, it's not," I explained patiently. "It's a normal expression, like cunt, twat, slit, muffin, slash, or gash, whatever. They're just words. Now, I want you to say it. Tell me what you want to do."

"I, I, I want t-t-to t-t-touch y-y-your p-p-p-p-pussy." She stammered, blushing harder than ever.

"Again," I said softly.

"I want to touch your p-pussy!" She said with a lot more confidence.

I kissed her, "I want you to touch it, too."

Softly, slowly, Belle trailed her fingers down my tummy, reaching between us. I watched her hand, but glanced up to watch her eyes. Her eyes were so expressive, I just loved watching them. Her eyes widened again as her fingers reached the soft skin of my lower tummy, just above my slit. She slowed again and the slowness had reached an excruciating level. My leaking pussy was fairly howling for attention, but I didn't want to frighten her by expressing my need. Her fingers stopped shy of my pussy and she just rubbed back and forth. The slight pressure that she was putting on my belly was transferring to my clit and my hips pulsed with every motion. 

Finally, she slowly moved her hand down the last few centimeters to my soaking slit. My hips involuntarily jerked, my body desperately seeking more contact.

Startled, Belle jerked her hand away. "Did I..." 

She stopped talking, interrupted by my howl. "Nooooo...., pleeeease don't stop..."

Belle giggled, "OK, OK..."

Slipping her fingers back to my needy, greedy pussy, she kissed me gently. "Is this OK?" She whispered in between soft, sweet kisses.

"Ohhhh..." I breathed, "Belle, baby, sweetie, that's, that's, ohhhh, ooooh, that's p-p-perfect..."

Her touch was as soft and sweet as her kisses. The sweetness was what got me, the tenderness, and the loving softness of her touch. She claimed she hadn't done this before, but if she hadn't she was a natural. She touched me in the way I loved to be touched. Her fingers fluttered at the tip of my clit and along the edges of my lips. I could feel the tidal wave of orgasm building deep within me. But, I also felt tingling in my fingers and toes. There was a growing dull roar in my ears and I closed my eyes to enjoy the crescendo of sounds and sensations that were converging on my center, brought on by those teasing, dancing fingers. Suddenly, the waves crashed over me and I crushed Belle to me in a loving, searching kiss. Her slight tremble showed that she was startled, but recovered and threw her passion into the kiss, her fingers never hesitating, sweetly flickering over my straining flesh. Finally, the most incredible orgasm of my life started to wane and I briefly pulled my lips from hers.

"Oh, Belle, that was w-w-wonderful, b-b-but," I warbled, "I, I, I...sensitive." 

She pulled her hand away, understanding. She leaned back in, her soft, sweet lips brushing mine. She climbed off my lap and I lay down. Well, lay down implies way too much control...I fell over.

Belle snuggled up to me, her breasts touching mine, nipple to nipple. Mine were very hard and very sensitive. Hers were almost as hard and sent sparks through my body when they touched mine. I opened my arms and rolled on my side. She slid to my side and laid her head on my shoulder. I took a few moments to recover before turning and placing my forehead against hers, looking deeply into those pools of blue.

"Wow," I murmured, "are you sure you've never done this before?"

Her eyes crinkled up in a smile. "Yes, I'm sure I've never had my fingers, uhh, in, uhh, another woman's, uhh, stuff."

I started laughing, "Yep, I believe you...stuff?"

She turned bright red and it was so cute I had to kiss her again. Her lips melted into mine, communicating a passion that was real and more than a little surprising, given her circumstances. Our lips parted, with reluctance, and we gazed into the other's eyes. I couldn't resist her sweet disposition, or body, for long. I leaned in for another kiss, before rolling over on top of her and lightly rubbing our breasts together. Her nipples bumping roughly against my own nipples shot sparks of excitement straight to my pussy. 

"Belle," I murmured, "what are you doing to me?"

I kissed her, long and soft. Her soft lips and sweet taste made me tingle all over. I turned her head to the side to kiss her ear and down her, long, slender neck. Her skin tasted faintly of salty sweat, and yet, was sweet. I got to the hollow in her neck and licked and kissed to her apparent pleasure. She was squirming and moaning as I worked down her smooth skin to her smooth, soft breasts.

Her little buds were begging me to take them between my lips, and who was I to deny myself and Belle that little pleasure? I gently suckled the erect nipple on her left breast, and then nipped it with my teeth.

She arched her back, thrusting it deeper between my lips and teeth. "Ooooh, Reyna!" She groaned, "What was that?"

I scraped my teeth over it again while sharply pinching the right. "Ooooh, I don't care what it is, just dooooon't stooooop!!!" She was writhing all over the place beneath me and I was having a hard time staying with her.

Her hips had started bumping against my stomach and I could feel the moisture of her pussy slapping against my belly. I slipped away with my mouth, immediately replacing my lips with my fingers and Belle gave a little cry of disappointment. Kissing her ribs as I went by caused a little giggle and she scooted away a little. I found her tiny belly button to be soft and warm and very sensitive. 

"Ohhh, Reyna," she murmured, "That feels sooo gooood! It makes my p-p-pussy tingle and that, that, ohhhh..."

Her whole body shivered beneath me as a small orgasm surprised her. I didn't stay with her navel, instead moving down to my real goal, her slippery little pussy. I didn't dive in right away, not wanting to frighten her. I kissed above it and her hips rocked up, seeking contact. I deftly moved to the side, gliding down the soft skin, feeling her silken pussy hair brushing my cheek. I drifted down the inside of her thigh, trailing my tongue along skin that was even softer and smoother. Her hands had found my hair, entangling her fingers and caressing my scalp. She wasn't trying to guide me; it felt like she was just trying to maintain some kind of contact.

At the top of her stocking, I switched sides and moved slowly back up towards her visibly moist pussy. My eyes never left her rosy red center. It was pulsing with every touch of my lips and every tiny lick of my tongue. I deliberately kept my pace slow, trying to build her anticipation and need. I finally reached my goal and paused, just looking at the tiny slit. I gently blew a stream of cool air and it twitched and opened a little. I blew again and it opened further. I had never seen a pussy react like this to stimulation and I was fascinated. I pulled my hands away from Belle's boobs to a little whimper of protest. The whimper turned into a yelp as I touched the blossoming lips with my tongue. 

"Oh!" Belle cried. "Reyna! You're not gonna, gonna, ohhhhh, ohhhh, OH MY GODDDDD! Oh, I, ooooh, oh, I, y-y-you, ohhh..."

She dissolved into babble as my tongue laved from her lips all the way up to her clit. As I tickled her clit with my tongue, I slipped a finger into her tight channel. Her hips bucked off the bed as she pulled my head tighter to her body. I sucked on her clit as I slipped another finger into her and began to pump in and out. On an outstroke, I added a third finger, making a thick little cock with which I fucked her little pussy hard and as deeply as I could. Her hips were off the bed and she began to shake and suddenly the slippery wetness of her pussy increased as my hand and mouth were drenched. She didn't squirt, but I thought that she was wetter than any woman to whom I had made love. 

I was startled to realize that, in my mind, I had gone from fucking this beautiful, delicate creature, to making love to her. That thought spurred me on to focus and make sure that she got my best. I withdrew one finger and turned my hand over, curling the remaining two, and seeking her G-Spot. After a couple a strokes, I must have found it as she started screaming. 

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, Reyna, REYNA, REYNA, I, I, I'm COMINGGGGGG!!!!" Belle was shrieking and pulling so hard on my pigtails that I thought she was going to pull them from my head.

Finally, her hips collapsed to the bed and she held tight to the pigtails, effectively pulling me from her pussy. "N-n-no, m-m-more!"

I withdrew my fingers and she dropped my pigtails. I sat back on my heels and knelt between her legs, watching her. Her eyes were closed and her chest was heaving. After a few minutes, her breathing returned to normal and she opened her eyes. I took that opportunity to lick the remaining juices from my fingers and around my mouth. 

Her eyes widened, and then she smiled and crooked her finger at me. "Kiss me." I leaned down, planting a big kiss on her pussy, making sure I licked deeply and wallowing around so that I got my face all wet. 

She giggled, "Not there!" She pointed at her face, "Here!"

"Ohhhh," I answered with a grin of my own.




The Church Lady Comes to my Door



I crawled up her body, kissing and licking as I went, being careful not to lose too much of her essence along the way. I stopped, inches from her face, and smiled. Leaning down, I slipped into a soft, loving kiss, sliding my Belle covered tongue into her mouth. 

Abruptly, she twisted her head away. I was surprised and disappointed until she licked my cheek. Giggling, she asked, "Is that what I taste like?"

Rubbing my cheek on hers, and then licking off the remains, I said, "Yep, and I love the way you taste!"

Giggling again, licking again, she said, "You know, I think I do, too."

Suddenly, surprising me with her strength and speed, she rolled us over, landing me on my back. Staring with her bright blue eyes into my amber eyes, she briefly pinned me down. I watched, fascinated as she descended to kiss my lips and then started moving down toward my chest.

"Belle," I murmured. "You don't have to do this."

She pulled her face to mine, kissing me again. "Oh, yes I do, 'Do unto others...' and all that." She paused, kissing my lips, then my cheeks, and then moving to my breasts. "Besides, I want to give you what you gave me... It's only fair, and since I'm here and sinning" she giggled, showing that she wasn't serious, "that I should do it all. Besides, I really, really want to do it all with you."

She moved up and kissed me again, briefly, before moving to my breasts. As with her fingers in my pussy, the touch of her lips and tongue was feather light. Every time she touched my nipple with her lips and tongue it felt as though a fairy was dancing on it. The lightness, the tenderness was unlike anything I had experienced. But, it wasn't tentative, I could tell it was deliberate, it was her way of demonstrating affection and it began to excite me a great deal. I could feel my pussy begin to drip and spasm every time she touched me.

When her tongue and lips weren't dancing on my diamond cutter nipples, her fingertips or the baby soft backs of her hands; were. When her hands were active on my nipples her lips were just as active on my lips. But, instead of intense kisses, her kisses were butterfly light, just like on my nipples. She was beginning to drive me wild. 

She bent her head to my boob and I had grown tired of seeing her hair bound tightly to her head. I longed to see her hair flowing around her face, so I reached up and started pulling pins out. After several pins, one strand finally fell out, and then another and more until I found the key pin and the rest of her beautiful blonde hair tumbled around her face. There was a surprising amount and it looked to be shoulder length. She stopped ministering to my boobs and shyly looked up at me through the tangles. It was so incredibly innocent and sexy that I pulled her to me and kissed her deeply, my pussy throbbing in response.

After she pulled away and went back to her fluttering caresses of my breasts, I said, "Belle, your hair is beautiful and you are so, so unbelievably sexy with it down, you should never, ever, put it up again."

She looked up at me, briefly, blushing and didn't say a word, but went back to her ministrations. She spent long minutes just kissing and touching and holding my breasts. This was her first opportunity to play with breasts not her own and it seemed she was intent on taking full advantage of it. The upside for me was that I can come multiple times from having my nipples stimulated and I was well on the way to my second orgasm of the day. When Belle experimentally bit down on my left nipple for the first time, I was driven over the edge to a pleasant, effusing orgasm. It wasn't soul rocking; it just made me warm and tingly all over, from the tips of my toes to the end of my nose. 

Belle sat up and looked at me with a quizzical look on her face. "Did you just come?"

Now it was my turn to blush. "Yes, I can come by someone just playing with my nipples. You do that so nicely, so, so, sexily, that I came. It was a beautiful little come..."

She silenced me with a kiss before returning to my nipples. She continued where she had left off, though this time she started licking the underside of my boobs. She seemed to know, instinctively, where I loved being touched, how I loved being touched. The underside of my boobs almost never got attention from my lovers in the past. When somebody did give the soft, smooth underside any kind of loving attention, I normally went off like a rocket. Belle's feather light, loving touch on the heels of the little orgasm had me ascending the ramp to liftoff at a record pace. When she started stroking the underside of both breasts simultaneously and then lightly bit my nipple again, the rocket lifted off and sent me into orbit. My hips bounced off the bed and collided with Belle, knocking the wind from her with a little 'oof' and I grabbed her head and pulled her into a deep, soul-searching kiss. I started to come down and Belle pulled away, heading down my body once again.

This time she didn't stop at my boobs or my belly button, she went straight for the gold; my freely flowing, gaping pussy. She started licking around the outside, cleaning up the remains of my last come and then moved slowly toward my center. I was throbbing in anticipation of her touch and I wasn't disappointed. Her tongue lightly touched the edges of my lips, much as she had with her fingers. She flicked and fluttered and teased, my pussy straining to be touched. My hands were clenched at my side, fistfuls of sheet held tightly. Belle evidently has infinite patience; she kept using the same light touch around the edges of my pussy, seemingly for hours. 

I loved it and I hated it. An orgasm was building deep within me, once again, and yet she never increased the pressure on my pussy or even touched my clit. She kept licking and flicking and fluttering, keeping me on edge, but not allowing me to burst over the precipice. Then, agonizingly, she left my pussy altogether and started kissing my lower belly and touching the outside of my legs. The fire of orgasm that was burning in my belly and throughout my body was dwindling down to an ember and I feared she would let it be extinguished.

After kissing all over my tummy, hips and belly button, she moved back down and touched the tip of her tongue to the very tip of my clit. The ember reignited and she flicked her tongue over the increasingly sensitive bud, again and again and again. Her fingers left my legs and found their way into my drooling pussy and, imitating what I had done to her, only more gently, began thrusting in and out of me. She pushed one, then two and finally three fingers softly, slowly in and out. Then just two and then she turned her hand and found that rough patch of nerve endings just as she nipped my clit with her teeth.

The orgasm that she had been nurturing in me for the last ten years (OK, OK, probably twenty minutes) burst over my body in a crescendo of lights and sounds and incredibly warm, glowing feelings. I have never come like that in my life. It just kept reaching higher and higher until I simply collapsed on the bed, delirious. Belle kept lapping and rubbing and touching, and even though I was could barely take any more; I was powerless to stop her. Aftershocks kept pulsing through my body and I lost count of them. I lay on the bed twitching from the mere touch of her lips on my hot skin. I closed my eyes, assuming she was going to literally fuck me to death.

I awoke sometime later and Belle was holding me in her arms, facing me with a worried expression. "Reyna? Are you OK?" She whispered.

I pushed my head forward and kissed her, tasting myself on her lips. "I am wonderful, baby. Where did that come from?" I giggled.

"I really don't know." She admitted with a giggle of her own. "I just started out doing what you did to me and I was having so much fun and you were like a little orgasm machine, that I just wanted to see how long I could keep you going. I wanted to see how many orgasms you could actually have."

I raised my eyebrow.

She giggled again, "I don't know, I lost track." 

I kissed her and climbed out of bed. She looked worried. 

"I'm sorry; I gotta go to the bathroom." I said.

She nodded and said, "I went while you were out."

When I came back I lay on my back and opened my arms to her. She snuggled up to me and lay in my arms, her beautiful, soft, blonde hair spread over the pillow and on my chest. We lay still for a long time, not speaking. I was simply enjoying the closeness with her. I looked into her face and was concerned by her expression. She seemed content, but a little introspective.

"Belle?" I whispered, "What's wrong? Do you feel guilty?"

"That's the funny thing," she murmured. "I don't feel guilty because of what we did, in fact, I loved it." She paused to give me a little kiss, and then she giggled ruefully. "I feel guilty because I don't feel guilty."

"I'm not sure I understand." I said.

"I know..." She said, pausing. "My father is a Baptist minister like his father and his grandfather. My mother's father is a Methodist minister, my husband is a deacon in my father's church, so I've been raised and live in a very, very strict environment and homosexuality is the biggest taboo next to killing someone..."

She took a breath and hesitated. I waited, letting her tell her story.

She continued. "Anyway, as a child I was always at some church function or another. Many of them were camps, or sleepovers, whatever. There were always times where all the girls would be in a big dorm, or tent or shower. Somebody was always naked or nearly so. I knew it was bad, but I always peeked at the other girls. I liked the way boobs and butts and p-p-pussies looked on all of the other girls."

She blushed when she said 'pussies' and I thought it was adorable. "It didn't matter if the girl had tiny boobs, you know, basically just nipples or giant boobs. I loved to look at them all." She was blushing from head to toe with her confession. I kissed her forehead to reassure her. "I loved how the little ones didn't move at all, I loved how the perfect medium ones jiggled and I loved how the big ones swung heavily." 

She paused again and reached under my chin, lifting it to kiss me. "God," she moaned, "I love kissing you." 

Then she giggled. "Have you noticed how there is nothing else that moves and sways and slides around like a big boob? That's one thing I think I want to do. Play with a really, really big pair of boobs." She lay quietly for a moment and then added, a little wistfully, "Like my friend, Misti's..."

She paused again, thinking. "You know, now that I think about it, I spent a lot of time looking at boobs. I'm surprised I didn't get caught."

I interrupted. "It's probably because no-one expected the minister's daughter to be a closet lesbian, checking out all the young tits and asses." I giggled again, "Maybe you are a pedophile."

She acted shocked. "Bitch!"

I laughed, shocked at her outburst. "Bitch? Nice language young lady, what would your father say about that mouth?"

She kissed me again, her hand drifting to my boob. "Not as much as he would if he knew where that mouth had been."

I laughed, "That's probably true..." 

She finished her story. "Anyway, I guess I've always been interested in girls, I just didn't recognize it for what it was. Maybe, the threat of eternal damnation was enough to keep me on the straight and narrow. I don't know. Thank you for opening my eyes. Though now, I don't know that I can go back to that life and be content."

She rolled me over and kissed me deeply. I closed my eyes for the kiss and then reopened them when she withdrew. She was hanging over me, her nose inches from mine. Her eyes were glistening with tears.

"I don't want to, but I've got to go home." She said tearfully.

I tried to kiss her again and she quickly slipped out of my arms. "No, baby, I really have to go." She glanced at the window. "It's nearly dark and my husband will be worried. I can explain late, but I can't explain spending the night. I'm afraid if we kiss again while we're naked, I won't leave your arms or your bed...ever."

She started picking up her underwear that was strewn around the bedroom. I scrambled off the bed and snatched the lacy boy shorts away from her just as she picked them up.

"These are mine, just in case you never come back." I straightened up and so did she.

"Belle, I want you to understand something," confessing something that I never thought I would, "I am a player. I fuck women younger and older than myself. My hobby is doing what I did with you today, seducing lesbian virgins, making them beg me to make them come, and making them love what I do to them."

The pain that came into her eyes was almost too much for me to bear. The tears rolled down her cheeks, and she turned from me. "So I was just a quick lay? Nothing but a conquest?"

I gently touched her arm, turning her to me. "Belle, I didn't tell you that to hurt you, or to brag. I've never said that out loud to anybody, including myself. I told you that because I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I told you that because you are the first woman I've ever met that my heart wants."

She had been looking at the floor and looked up sharply at me, her eyes narrowed. She searched my face for any sign of deception, finding none; she dropped her clothes and flew into my arms.

"It's too soon to say whether or not I love you, but you make me feel things I've never felt before. If you decide that you want to leave your life, please know that I'll be here." I whispered in her ear. I wanted this to be for just us, not even the walls could hear my confession or desire. "You're the sweetest, most naturally loving and innocent woman I've ever known."

She kissed me on the cheek and stepped out of my arms. "I don't know if I could do that." She said sadly, "I would have to leave, not only my husband, but my entire family."

There were tears in my eyes now. I was talking to her back as she got dressed. "I know; believe me, I completely understand. I want you to know I will accept anything you can give me." I couldn't believe I was acting with such desperation. "Once a year, once a month, once a week..." I giggled, "or once a day..., anything."

She said nothing until she was fully dressed and faced me. "I don't know; it's so much to absorb. After all, I just cheated for the first time in my life, not only on my husband, but in any aspect of my life. This was huge for me. I have to think. You must understand that as special as this is for you, it is simply unbelievable for me. I just need time to process."

She stepped into me, drew me into her arms and kissed me deeply. She released me and ran out of the bedroom and was headed for the front door. I followed, grabbing things as I went.

"Belle?" I said and she didn't slow down. 

"Belle!" I said more forcefully.

"Reyna! Please don't!" She said as she approached the front door.

"Don't you think you'll need these?" I asked with a grin.

She stopped and turned around. I held her purse, her big floppy hat, her bible and pamphlets. 

She giggled, "Oh gosh, I could never explain what happened to all that. Thank you."

I handed them to her, kissing her on the cheek. "It'll be hard enough explaining where you left your panties."

She giggled. "You're so bad."

She turned and went out the door. I went back and threw myself on my bed, smelling her scent, and cried, wondering if I'd ever see her again.

****************

The next Saturday I started my weekly cleaning routine. I had on a pair of Daisy Dukes and a thin halter top. My hair was pulled back in a ponytail. As I was picking up the living room the doorbell rang. I looked through the peephole and a gorgeous brunette dressed in a black pencil skirt, gray wrap around blouse and what looked like a white silk jacket was standing on the porch. I immediately opened the door. The first thing I noticed when I saw all of her was that her boobs were enormous.

"Hello little girl," my visitor said in a mellifluous voice, "Are your mommy and daddy home?"

"No," I replied, "they're not here right now." (I can't help it; it's reflex.)

"Well," she smiled demurely, "could I come in and talk to you?"

"I guess," I said briefly and stepped aside.

As she walked past me and said, "My name's Misti Stanton," I glanced down to see what she was carrying. It was a bible and flyers from Belle's church. My eyes widened as I thought, 'Could Belle have...?"



The Church without a God



In the year 1008 as reckoned in Rome on the Julian Calendar, Brother Cyryl Procopius was given a writ of Accession to take over the Parish of St. Adelbert in the Polish town of Virlun at the edge of the God-forsaken Wood of Mldawa. It was well known that the world ended at the Bug river, and that the Woods of Mldawa were the beginning of the Great Wilderness that surrounded the realm of Blessed Christendom, a place where Satan and his minions held sway out of the reach of God and his all his angels; that no saint's eye saw what happened on the far shore of the Bug where Virlun stood, and the people who lived there were little better than beasts, living as they did surrounded by the powers of darkness, and that they all of them lived and died in peril of losing their immortal souls. 

The other monks in the seminary in Warsaw agreed that Cyryl must have done something very bad to have been given this Accession, and most thought it was from asking too many questions of the learned brothers who taught them. Questions weren't the way to come into a knowledge of God's grace and here was proof. What you got for asking questions was an Accession to a town under the protection of the powerful but barely civilized Baron of Swodzj near Satan's forest where there were creatures who shat fire and pissed lightning and who had pricks for heads and cunts for mouths—cunts with great, sharp teeth in them.

But Brother Cyryl took his order and his allotment of wine of communion wafers and rode from Warsawa to Lvov to Brest, and from Brest he got a ride on a grain barge that was going upriver to Tzyrniecki and at Tzyrniecki he was met by Ojcunie Wojcik with a cast in his eye and Borslaw Holowycz who was missing his front teeth. Both rode asses and Borslaw's idiot cousin Niedan was there with boils on his neck, and he led a broken down and dusty mare from the Baron of Swodjz's stable for Cyryl to ride, and in this way they proceeded to Virlun, avoiding the rapids that made the Bug unnavigable this far upstream while skirting the edge of the dark and forlorn Mldawa forest with its wild animals, its devils, and its demons. It was autumn and in the drizzle and mist the forest looked dark and forbidding yet still seemed to beckon like a woman lying indolently in the warmth of a deep and soft featherbed in a dream in which you were afraid to pull back the comforter because you knew the dream was nightmare, and there was no telling what you would reveal when you pulled back the the blanket, a pile of worms or a putrid corpse.

They entered the village through a side path that took them past a stream running through a little vale filled with ferns and then past the church the original priest Father Jerek had built with his own hands and the help of the villagers, finished thirteen years ago and empty these last seven, already given over to the elements. Cyryl had expected to find it abandoned but was surprised to see that part of it had been razed, a portion of the roof removed and some of the stone blocks from the north end of the transept scattered in the tall weeds. 

He got down off his horse and bent over to inspect one of the blocks. It was a sizeable piece of stone and could not have been easy to move. Someone was either very strong or very dedicated to the church's destruction. Ojcunie and Borslaw just sat and watched him as he stood for a while beneath the dripping trees and stared at the stone with the autumn grasses still growing so lushly around it. It must have been there for some time, for green moss had a purchase on one side and made it soft and feminine when he ran his fingers over it so it was like touching a woman's body. The thought shocked him and he quickly took his hand back. He had joined the priesthood largely to put all that behind him. He'd intended to purify himself.

He left the horse to graze and he walked through the quiet weeds and leaned in through the hole that had been made in the transept of the church. The two men watched him suspiciously while Niedan swung a stick at flowers. Rain and wind had entered the church but the sacred aura was still unaffected; Brother Cyryl could feel it. He looked inside at the sturdy walls and the smooth, flagstone floor, the confessional, the sacristy, the altar, the baptismal font, all untouched these many years. The stained glass windows had miraculously survived intact. Brother Jerek had been a stubborn man, a builder, and hadn't been shy about using the limestone quarries that gave the town of Virlun its reason for being, or about using the villagers who owed fealty to the Baron of Swodzj. Nor had he been shy about petitioning the Baron for money and men, which is how he'd obtained the stained glass windows and brass candlesticks and the bell in the belfry, all of which had been shipped upriver and overland from Brest years ago. 

Attached to the church was a fine stone house for his rectory with a kitchen with its own well and fireplaces with chimneys and four glass windows that swiveled cunningly on rods to admit fresh air, luxuries not even the Baron could boast of, and when Cyryl saw these he was deeply embarrassed by the wealth he was forced to live with.

He was shown the village and introduced to the few nervous villagers that could be found, and when he saw the hovels they lived in, huts of wattle and daub with fences of crooked sticks and floors of packed earth, he felt even more ashamed at the richness Brother Jerek had left for him. He noticed witch-signs and marks of the old gods all over the village and the people seemed frightened and resentful. There were idol-posts and offering trees tied with ribbons and streamers, no doubt for the goat god Borewit and the dark god of the forest Berstuk, and these commanded the choice spots in the peoples' yards and the village squares, an offense to God and his martyred saints. 

He was given a housekeeper, an old widow with no teeth named Toja, and Niedan as a helper, and he promised the villagers he'd say a mass the very next day, but when he returned to the church that night to clean up and get it ready, he was saddened and aggrieved. The church seemed huge and oppressive, almost as big as a cathedral, much too big for this village and this spot at the very edge of the world where there was so little God. He and Toja and Niedan set about with twig brooms and shovels cleaning out the altar, sweeping out the leaves and weeds and reconsecrating the church, but in his heart, he was troubled.

All night long he heard devils and leszys upon his roof loosening slate tiles and pitching them down into the grass, and there was even the sound of huge wings going by his glass windows. Father Cyryl knew he was a sinner and that he could not rely on God's aid and so he hardly slept at all. In the morning, only eight people out of the village's two hundred and forty showed up to attend mass. He had no altar boys and no one to help with the Eucharist, but Ojcunie and Borslaw did what they could, and of course Toja and Niedan were there, and the simple mass went smoothly. He felt an emptiness though, no joy or peace from the grandeur of the ceremony. 

Cyryl couldn't help but notice the most striking woman in the meager crowd. Her hair was as blonde as sunflowers and her eyes were like the eyes of a cat, wise and knowing, and as green as deep water, and even in her black village rags her body betrayed the wonders of God's hand as she was a work of marvelous intent, as ripe as a piece of fruit hanging from the tree at harvest tide. When she looked at Cyryl as he elevated the host he felt like sunlight was pouring through the stained glass windows upon him, and like his gown had fallen away and he stood there naked before her, and he had to banish the lustful thoughts from his mind as he conducted the transubstantiation and converted the host and the wine into the holy body and blood of Jesus Christ there in his unworthy human hands.

"Who was that woman with the blonde hair?" he asked Toja after the mass as he kissed his surplice and stole and put them away.

"That? Father, that was Malodar Turek, the young widow of Drogram Turek. He was killed by a leszy in the woods not three years ago—torn to pieces we think and eaten. Never found. She's never been the same. There are terrible things in the forest, Father." 

"I know. I heard them last night. We will have to bless these woods and drive them out. So she's a window? Are there any children?"

"None, poor thing. She's a midwife now and healer and does what she can to survive. She has the gift and second sight, though, and people pay for her services. She manages a living."

Father Cyryl nodded and remembered again the feeling of standing naked before those remarkable eyes. He could believe she had second sight and the gift of healing. She was a remarkable woman and perhaps her mother had been touched by a spirit or a hidden saint before she'd been born as well. 

"Have Niedan saddle the mare. I have to pay my respects to the Baron. I'll leave after lunch."

He lunched on bread, cheese, and pickled onions, washed down with fresh brown beer from a keg that Borslaw had brought over and set up in the kitchen, so that when he got on the mare he was already sleepy. He dozed in the saddle as the horse skirted the Mldawa forest and then fell entirely asleep in the drowsy afternoon.

He awoke suddenly to find himself well into the woods, the road having passed into the forest while he slept. He was passing through a little dell where the sun shone down through the sparse trees on a floor littered with ferns, viper's bugloss, and the pale, nodding orange flowers of foxglove. He looked around wildly, suddenly certain he was being watched. He could feel eyes on him from the darkness of the woods, and even the ferns seemed menacing, their fronds curled like the hoods of snakes about to strike. He spurred the horse and galloped on, imagining the hot exhalations of a leszy on the back of his neck, the sharp points of the teeth grazing his skin, not daring to turn around. He didn't stop until he was out of the woods and saw the Baron's wooden castle at the head of a ravine not half a mile away.

He hailed the gate and was admitted, but he couldn't shake off the chill and the feeling of fear and anguish. The inside of the Baron's castle was dark and filled with smoke, a warren of close passages and tiny, messy rooms with even tinier windows, all hung with thick tapestries that made the air thick and close. The Baron was ill and had been since spring, sweating and nearly naked and lying on bear skins in his chamber, attended not by a priest but by a shaman in reindeer antlers and skins who was feeding him a broth made of mushrooms and cannabis. The air was thick with the smoke from poppy resin. His eyes were dull and shiny and he spoke as if from another world.

"You're the new priest?" the Baron said. "You don't belong here. There's no God here, no Jesus Christ. The woods are filled with devils and evil spirits. They'll eat your bones. That's what they did with the last priest. They drove him mad. Got rid of him."

"Lord have mercy, my liege. You don't know what you're saying."

"You'd better beg your God for mercy, priest. There are witches in your village. They cursed me and now I suffer. Your village is filled with witches and monsters, damn them all!"

"You have a witch right here, my liege. You should have a priest here, not a curer."

"What can a priest do for me? At least the curer takes away my pain. All you priests do is mumble. I spend all my gold on your fucking church, your windows, your bell, and what good did it do me? The ingrates cursed me and now there's a sickness growing inside me and I piss blood. You should be praying for me, priest. God should listen to you after all I've done for his church but he doesn't! You should be praying for me and he should answer your prayers, you fucking fake!"

"I shall pray. I shall, I shall."

"Then go and do it and make him listen. What do you want here anyways? More gold? Haven't I given you enough already? What do I have to show for it?"

"Nothing, my liege. I wanted to see what I could do for you."

"Get your villagers to take their fucking curse off me, that's what you can do! They're killing me, I can't even breathe, Priest. Understand? Get them to take their curse off me before I burn their whole fucking village down, because I will! Tell them that!"

"Yes, my liege."

"Now get out of here, you worthless piece of shit."

"Yes, my liege."

He was glad to follow a page back out through the wooden maze and to step outside again, but he was led out a different way and stepped out through a different door onto a high battlement overlooking the woods, and the first thing he saw were the decomposing bodies of three poachers hanging in body cages from a dead tree that had been propped up in a tower. They'd been allowed to die there of exposure and two had been dead for months to judge from the looks of them, the third only a matter of weeks and he stunk. 

As Cyryl stared back over the woods towards the church he could see things flying over it, large birdlike things that seemed to have the bodies of men, like bears with huge wings. They flew on long, fleshy, batlike wings, in a way that was sickening to watch, and his heart sunk in his chest when he saw them. He asked the Captain of the Guard what they were and the man just laughed at him. 

Riding back along the sere and dusty road, Cyryl stopped at the entrance to the Mldawa woods and thought about trying to find a way around them, but the ground was uneven and cut with ravines. The shadows of the skeletal trees lay across the ground as sharp as battle axes, and he supposed if there were a way, it would have been found by now. He rode on the horse and let it walk, and once again the woods were forbidding and still, so beautiful it could only have been due to the presence of the Evil One, but this time the devil was more cunning and cruel. He did not appear as a monster, but assailed him as a vision of the widow Turek, so clear and fetching that it made Cyryl's cock lift beneath his robe. He saw her standing before him on the ground, then undressing for him and lying down, caressing herself shamelessly and spreading her legs and beckoning to him, and the visions wouldn't abate no matter how hard he closed his eyes and no matter how many Hail Mary's he said. 

Finally he could simply ride no further like that. His prick was swollen mightily, engorged with blood, and his balls were like two sacks full of gold dust, tender and aching. He had to dismount there in that accursed forest and he meant to get down on his knees and pray but the holy words wouldn't come to his lips and instead he stood, lifted his robe and took his prick in his hand and began to stroke himself. He put his arm against a tree and leaned his head against it and masturbated and in no time he was coming, his mind aswim in lewd and filthy images of the Widow Turek sucking him and bending over and taking his cock from behind and he moaned and shuddered in self-loathing and revulsion even as he was thrusting his hips forward to send the thick streams of ejaculate splashing against the tree trunk and dripping from his own knuckles, no better than a beast. He could smell the animal smell of himself and he was deeply ashamed and humiliated, disgusted with himself and what he'd become and he quickly wiped himself off with some leaves and cast them aside onto the forest floor. But now it seemed as if the whole forest was laughing at him, the trees and the ferns and even the fallen logs and the little flowers, laughing at this pitiful priest who spilled his seed in his hand and wiped himself with leaves. He quickly mounted his horse and rode away, reaching the church just after Vespers. He saw no more sign of the flying devils.

He could not bring himself to celebrate Compline that night, and no one showed up to hear it anyhow. Nor did he want to ring the evening bell, though Niedan and Borslaw had spent all afternoon attaching a new rope and cleaning the old birds' nests out of it. In the end, Cyryl couldn't decline the honor without explaining what he'd done to render himself unworthy, so he rang the bell, and all the villagers came out of their huts and stared at the church in wonder and alarm. Some put their hands over their ears and some ran quickly back inside. From the Woods of Mldawa came the sounds of raucous howling and wailing and of great things slithering in the earth and leaves.

The next morning fifteen people showed up for mass, and the Widow Turek was again among them. This time she stayed to introduce herself to Brother Cyryl and looked at him directly with her large green eyes and the effect she had was not that dissimilar to the effect her image had had on him in the Woods of Mldawa. She carried herself so upright, her breasts thrust out, as if quite aware of and proud of her beauty and perfection of form. Just standing by her made Father Cyryl feel more attractive and virile himself, though he was already quite a handsome young man. Part of the reason he'd joined the priesthood was because of his uncontrollable attraction to women, an attraction he'd hoped he could overcome and put behind him. 

In the afternoon, the candles he'd bought in the village arrived in ox-cart, and the Widow Turek accompanied old Sonja with his order, carrying an armful of autumn flowers. She came to speak to Father Cyryl

"I hope you don't mind, Father. I was just a little girl when Father Jerek left us, and I'm just so pleased to have someone back in the church after all this time. My soul rejoices."

"No," he said. "Not at all, Widow Turek. The flowers are lovely. Let me call Toja to get some water to put them in, and then perhaps you can tell me what you remember of Father Jerek and his disappearance. I'd like to know what he was like and what happened to him, if you remember. It's still quite a mystery to me. No one will tell me anything"

"Oh, I remember, quite well, Father. He was a hard man and he drove everyone hard as well to build this church. In the end he went quite mad. I was very young and don't remember everything from his early days, but I remember the last few years and they were terrible. He tried to deny the spirits of the forest, Father, and they drove him insane, absolutely insane. At the end he was braying like an ass and cursing people, and the leszys lured him to his death in the forest. One morning after a night of howling the mean of the village found the doors open and the church empty, Father Jerek's supper standing uneaten, and they tracked his footsteps off into the woods where they just disappeared, Father, as if he'd been carried off. You can't deny the spirits of the forest. Not out here. He angered them and they took their revenge."

"Now, Widow Turek—"

"Please, call me Malo, Father."

"Well thank you, Malo. But we're Christians here, aren't we? And we live under the grace and protection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We need fear no heathen spirit of the woods or ghost or devil or leszy. God is stronger then them and He protects us."

"I'd be careful, Father. I don't know if Our Lord Jesus reaches this far where we are. The woods of Mldawa, I think that's where He banished all those devils to. They had to go someplace, after all, and we've seen them."

Toja came in with a two clay vases for the flowers and Malo helped her arrange them on the altar. They made the church look festive but in a somber way. Autumn was here and the world was dying. Soon the harvest would be in and the family pigs would be slaughtered and people would briefly have meat again, a short, bittersweet time of celebration before the specter of winter froze everything and famine stalked forest and field. People would take sick and die.

"How did Father Jerek go mad?" Cyryl asked when Toja had left. He didn't think the help should hear this. The autumn light of late afternoon was flooding through the stained glass windows and filling the church with shafts of red and blue and gold and it was difficult to think of anyone losing their minds when beams of heavenly perfection stained the floor with such luminous perfection.




The Church without a God



"The spirits, Father. Their servants are in the forest, the monsters, but the gods speak to you in your mind. It's not as though they jump out of the trees at you. The gods aren't like that. They're not a game for children. They begin to whisper to you under the cover of your own voice. Like this..."

She came over to him and took his arm and pulled him so he had to lean his ear down. Her breasts pressed against his shoulder, warm and full and firm.

"They whisper to you," she said in his ear. "They tell you things you think are your own thoughts, but they're unusual, they're not what you usually think. They're lustful thoughts, Father, shameful and impure thoughts, and they consume you, and slowly they take over your mind."

Her whisper was soft yet very distinct. He could feel her breath on his ear and hear her tongue moving against her teeth and dipping like a delicate bird into the little pool of saliva in her mouth, so very intimately. The feel of her breasts against his shoulder made him weak and his heart felt like it was going much too fast.

She released him and he looked quickly into her face in time to see her long lashes closing over those sly cat eyes. She didn't look like she was teasing. She was either entirely innocent or far more dangerous than he'd thought. She let go of his arm and backed away and her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing. She had a charming mole on the inside of her left breast.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was rude of me. I don't know why I did that. Perhaps I'd better go. Yes, I really must get back. I can tell you more of Father Jerek another time."

He was speechless and could only watch as she threw her shawl around her shoulders and quickly left the church and hurried down the dusty path back to the village beneath the dead and twisted trees. She seemed to glide, she moved so perfectly, a black shape upon the dry, lemon yellow landscape. He stood there stunned, the light from the windows falling in multicolored shafts on the floor behind him, showing the saints in their agonies of martyrdom, and he felt himself growing erect again, his cock raising its head like some monster from the woods. 

As if in a dream he staggered to the door in the back of the church and went outside into the warm autumn sun. The woods almost swept up to the back end of the church here, the east end, and Cyryl stopped and looked into the welcoming shadows and darkness of the forest, seeing the mossy beds beneath the trees, the glades filled with soft growths of fern and cowslip. There was motion farther back in the shadows between the trees—something moving, something the size of a man or a bit smaller and thicker. It stopped his heart. It was fast and dark and didn't move like a person. It was much too fast to be a human, running on its toes with a funny, shaking, palsied gait. It was too large to be an animal. It might be a leper, but how could a leper move so fast? And why would he be naked?

He tried to cry out but his voice wouldn't work and his feet wouldn't move. Not till he saw it dash away and saw the muzzle and the slanted eyes, the ears pressed flat against the lupine head, the long teeth made for slashing and its trailing forked tail did he turn and run back into the church. He threw himself down on the altar and began to pray with feverish urgency. As he prayed he prayed as well for an answer to his prayer.

*****

The next day Father Cyryl confessed his parishioners. Only a handful came, but he was shocked. They had told him at seminary to take what he was told in confession with a grain of salt, for people liked to exaggerate their sins, and he recognized that these people hadn't been confessed for seven years, but still, the stories of lust and depravity, of attempted murder and theft and blasphemy coming from the toothless mouths of grandmothers as well as the ripe lips of young virgins were just shocking. This was indeed a godless place to judge from what he was hearing, and confession took much longer than he'd anticipated. He'd missed his breakfast and his stomach was growling when a woman stepped into the booth and he heard Malo's voice.

"Bless me Father for I have sinned."

"Proceed, my child."

"It's been seven years since I've been to confession, father."

"I understand and that's not your fault. You're not responsible for that."

"But in that time I've done terrible things, Father. I hardly know where to begin."

"Start with the worst. The worst will encompass the least, my child."

"It's my thoughts, Father. Evil, lustful thoughts that don't let me rest. Thoughts that I hardly dare describe to you."

"Then you don't have to, my child. Ten hail Mary's and—"

"But it's only by telling you that I can rid myself of them, Father. They're very personal, Father. They involve you in a way."

Cyryl was quiet. He noticed now her scent. Had he noticed it before? Something like flowers, like attar of roses. Was she guilty of the sin of bathing? Of the vanity of perfumery like a whore? Her scent was delicious, not so thick as to be cloying, just enough to soften his imagination and to remind him of the feel of her breasts against his shoulder, how soft yet firm they'd been, how filled to bursting with that female [I]something[/I] that just made him want to grab her and squeeze and crush her against him.

He cleared his throat. "Yes?"

She moved her head closer to the screen. She was covered with her shawl so he couldn't see her face but he could hear the urgency in her voice.

"I'm a lustful woman, Father. A man's body attracts me, the spread of his shoulders, his hands, the strength of his thighs and buttocks. I'm having visions of a man now and he tempts me. This vision tempts me. It makes me weak. I want to be his slave."

"My child—"

"Hear me, Father. If I don't confess it, I'll repeat it. It will haunt me and I'll go to hell! Would you have me go to hell, Father? In my visions I fall down on my knees before this man. I can't help myself. I bite his thighs. I lick him, Father. I'm an animal, I can't help it. I pull my dress down."

"Really, I—"

"Father, hear me! I can't help myself and I pull my dress down and I rub my breasts against his legs. I'm his slave. He can do anything with me he wishes, that's how much I want him. Do you understand, Father? Have you ever needed anyone like that? Do you know what that's like? Does a priest have any idea what that's like to want someone that much? To feel this kind of sin?"

Father Cyryl shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn't possibly deny the erection that now sprung painfully from his lap. "God in Heaven!" he murmured

She grabbed the wooden screen with her hand, her fingers clawing through to his side in her urgency.

"Yes! I call on Him but He doesn't help. I'm a slave for this man and I can't help myself. On my knees before him I open my mouth, Father. I suck his cock inside! That's what I do, like an animal! How good he feels in my mouth! So hard, so firm, so alive between my lips! Throbbing with male strength, pulsing with virility. I could faint, Father. I could swoon from the pleasure of having him in my mouth! And I know what he must think of me, what a slut he must think I am, but I can't help myself. The feel of his cock in my mouth is more than I can bear!"

Cyryl groaned and pressed his fingers into his eyes as if to erase the vision. He couldn't bear it either. His cock was twitching, actually jerking beneath his robes, getting ready to spit just from this hussy's words. He had to stop her or he'd ejaculate just sitting there, but he couldn't stop a confession. He pulled his robe up lest he come and soil his one clean garment, and the sight of his cock straining in the air, shining like a salmon leaping in a stream only made him more aroused. If she were looking she would see. She'd see what effect her words were having on him, this poor excuse for a priest!

"If my vision stopped there it would be bad enough, Father, but it doesn't. It doesn't!"

"Oh my God!" he groaned.

"I know," she answered. "Just when I feel I can't take any more, he lifts me up—my lover lifts me up and bends me over, Father. He throws my skirts up over my back and he enters me from behind like I'm a mare or a heifer in the fields. Lord Jesus, why do I dream of being taken like an animal, Father? Why?"

Father Cyryl couldn't control himself anymore. He simply couldn't. He was biting his knuckle but to no avail. He cock was dripping, the big drop of pre-cum that had gathered glistening at the tip in the dim light of the confessional had spilled over and run down the crown and now he grabbed the shaft of his dick and squeezed it in agony and began to pump it up and down grudgingly, moaning, tightening his ass and fucking his hips up in counterpoint to his pumping hand, intentionally making a spectacle of himself, giving himself over to his shameful disgrace. He had his eyes closed, as if by not looking he could deny what he was doing, but he knew, he knew. He knew the shame and degradation his was giving himself over to. And meanwhile his ears were open and he was listening, listening to every word Malo was saying, and she was hanging on the screen now, staring at him like an animal in a cage as he beat off for her, a slave to her words, transported by what she was saying, caught up and caressed by the vision she was painting for him with her words and the sounds of her tongue in the sinful richness of her mouth.

"He fucks me, he's fucking me, Father, holding my hips and pulling me back hard onto his thrusting cock, and oh God! it's good! and oh God! he's deep! and oh my God! he's going to make me come, Father! He's got my tits in his hands and he's squeezing them and twisting my nipples and I'm screaming, Father, and my juice is dripping from me because I'm just a whore for this man! I'll do anything he wants, Father! Anything! Anything at all! Anything! Oh God, Father! Oh God, yes! Yes Father! Yes!"

"Ugh! Ugh! Ah! Ahhh! Ahhhhh!" Father Cyryl's eyes sprang open and his balls drew up tight. He seemed to be trying to climb right up out of the confessional and then his back arched and his hips lifted off the seat and jerked forward in a series of hot, hard thrusts and he began to come, shooting hard spits of semen against the wall opposite as he grunted and moaned like a primitive man, the white seed torn from his body, flung splattering against the wooden wall of the confessional by his shame, his raw animal need.

Malo watched him ejaculate, her face pressed up against the screen, her eyes under the darkness of her shawl wide and on fire, her breasts heaving, wet tongue licking her lower lip as if she'd lick the come as it shot from his spurting prick if she could only reach it—she watched him in the throes of his shameful, lonely release, jerking, spasming like a monkey in a cage as he hissed and moaned. She watched him squeeze it all out, the first strong shots to the final dribbling stream that coursed over his fingers, then she got up and quickly exited the confessional without a word and he sat and collapsed back onto his seat, too embarrassed to move, panting like a frightened dog, watching his come drip down the wall with the stink of male musk strong in his nose. It was the smell of sin, of lust, of his bestiality of his blemished soul. He heard the door close as she left the church, and then there was a howl from the woods, the sound of a wolf, but lower, deeper, rougher and more violent. It was answered by a call from farther away. It raised the hair on the back of his neck. He felt dirty inside, debased and degraded and fouled with sin.

He ran from the confessional, ran to the door he'd heard her use. He could see her walking away in the mist. There was no other creature outside that he could see. He watched her as the mists blew in from the woods and alternately hid and revealed her form until she entered the town at the foot of the hill and he felt the come dripping from his penis and running down his thighs, and then he turned and went inside. He found a rag and cleaned himself off, then he cleaned off the confessional. He prayed and cursed himself as he washed down the walls of his own human pollution, of his sin and his need for her, of the thrill he'd felt for her flesh and her body.

There were the sound of wings, great fleshy wings flapping in the air above his head, like some horrid giant bird, and then there was a sound on the roof. Something was walking about up there on two legs, slowly, walking back in forth. Cyryl stopped and listened. The thing walked, then stopped. It began working a slate tile loose. 

He looked up. Another set of wings frantically flapping as something came in for a landing, and then there were two sets of feet up there. He heard them, walking about, investigating, and then wiggling the slates back and forth, their hoofs grating on the tiles. Another slate tile slid off and he saw its shadow fall by the stained glass window and heard it thump as it landed in the tall grass. He could hear breathing, loud, stentorian breathing. Father Cyryl fell to his knees in the confessional.

"Oh Lord, bless this your house, and your servants within it—"

Another tile skidded down the sharp slope of the roof and plunged off the edge, tumbling end over end till it landed in the deep grass. He heard the sound of water hitting the roof in a stream, like urine. One of the things was urinating, urinating on the roof of the Church.

Father Cyryl got up and ran to the rectory where Toja was standing frozen in terror with her mouth open, Niedan not far from her.

"They're on the roof!" she said. "I've never heard them in the day time!"

"Are they coming in?" Niedan asked.

"Jesus will protect us, won't he father?"

Father Cyryl still realized he was holding the semen-soaked rag in his hand. He hid it behind his back. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know."

**+**

That night it rained and there was terrible thunder and lightning. The water came in the hole in the transept and dripped down the inside wall from the hole caused by the missing tiles in the roof, leaving a trail of chalky residue on one of the stained glass windows that showed Saint Sebastian martyred by one hundred arrows. The morning was thick and cloudy and the mists were oozing from the forest like dragon's breath flowing from between his teeth. Father Cyryl had left Toja to clean the window and had Niedan lead him through the puddle-strewn village to the crooked fence of Malodor Turek's cottage. He found Malo sitting outside washing the roots of foxglove plants in a leather bucket and tying them into bundles. He sent Niedan on his way.

"Father!" she said with apparent good cheer. "Come inside. I'll make you some chamomile tea."

Father Cyryl knew that the law of the confessional prevented him from saying anything about what had happened yesterday, but he almost hoped Malo would. He was not a shy man and the priest's robes felt constraining in talking to a woman. He knew he desired her and she was forbidden, but he didn't know whether he should just deny his impulse, or admit to himself his weakness and pray for strength. When she led him inside he was aware of the closeness of the cottage, of her empty bed of rushes and of the fact that no one would enter a house in which a priest was visiting a parishioner. Malo stood by the smoky fireplace, feeding it sticks, and made her back straight the way she did, bringing her breasts into prominence. When she gestured for him to sit at the rough-hewn table, she smiled a knowing smile.

"Sit, Father."

"Malo, I wanted to ask about the creatures we hear at night. They are wolves, I suppose?"

"You know what they are, father. Everyone knows what they are."

"I don't, Malo. Tell me."

She crumbled up chamomile flowers and dropped them into an earthenware mug. "They're leszys, father. Forest spirits. The bodies of men and the legs of goats and the heads of wolves or bears. They have the faces of the men they killed on their chests. One of them might be Father Jerek. One of them might be my husband Drogram, but now they're just slaves of Borewit, the Goat-legged god of the forest—"

"Hush now, Malo! You mustn't say such things! Those are pagan gods you're speaking of, savage gods! Devils! We live in the light of Jesus Christ the Son of God. That's who our church is for!"

She looked at him in surprise, as if he might be mad. "Well of course we do, father. But Jesus Christ can't keep those things off the roof of his own house."

"There are some animals that get up there. That's all, Malo."

"Father, I've seen them. They're not animals. They're leszys." She used her skirt as a potholder to take the pot from the fire and calmly poured the boiling water into the mugs. Stray smoke from the fire had gathered in the rafters of the low ceiling where it was already black from soot.

"You did not see them!" Father Cyryl exclaimed.

"Father, I did. And so did Czebor Hodak and Pim Dizinksi. Father, everyone in the village has seen these things. Many times. And you're not going to make them go away by telling us they're animals. They're the servants of Borewit, and he rules the forest."

"They're devils!" he shouted.

"Maybe they are, but they still rule the forest and they rule our lives here."

"How can I get rid of them, Malo? What must I do?"

"Father, I don't know. They're monsters."

"Will you help me, Malo? Will you help me drive them out?"

"Father, they're not the only ones. The woods are full of all sorts of monsters. These don't hurt too many people if we don't go out at night. There are others that are worse, far worse, things that live in the earth and the air. I don't know that we should interfere..."

"That's why people don't come to church then? Because they're afraid of the monsters?"

She tried to smile. "Father, people can see the monsters. They look for Jesus in heaven. All they see is clouds."

Father Cyryl stood up and Malo pushed his tea towards him. He shook his head.

"Father Jerek had the same problem," she said. "He had to make the people work to build his church like slaves. The Baron had guards force them. Everyone hated him. They hate the church, Father. They still remember."

"Then I'm just wasting my time."

Malo didn't say anything. She toyed with the tie on her dress.

"My confession helped me more than I can say, father. For the first time in years I feel at peace. Could we arrange for another?"

He stood and bowed his head. Even standing across the table he could smell her scent—fresh, like grass and wild roses crushed under the wheels of an oxcart. His body remembered the feeling of release, of ejaculation, the feeling of flinging off an enormous, crippling weight. 

"Of course," he whispered.

*****

[I]You are a sinner,[/I] he told himself. [I]Your flesh is weak and corrupt. You long to spill your seed in the hole of a woman and give birth to more corruption. Go ahead, admit it. Dwell in it, you sinner! Dwell in it and seethe in the stew of damnation! You seek to plunge your cock into the sheath of a woman, into the tight, pink, vagina of a woman and move it back and forth and let her flesh grip you, let her wet, slick flesh cling to you, don't you, you disgusting son of Adam? You want to work your skin up and back as she pumps her hips against you in her own wild lust and hunger. Look at you! Naked as sin, your ass exposed between her knees, rising and falling as you drive your dick into her cunt, moaning and gasping like an animal! You're disgusting, contemptible, odious, revolting! [/I]

"Oh Father, forgive me my venal thoughts, forgive me for my sins and for the weakness of my flesh. Chastise my spirit as I chastise my body. Teach me remorse and contrition and set my feet on the narrow path of purity..."

Kneeling in the cold stone sacristy clad only in his breeches, illuminated by the feeble light of a pair of candle stubs, Father Cyryl weighed the scourge in his hand—nine long leather lashes with sharp lead weights on the ends attached to a wooden handle. It felt good, solid, capable. He held his breath and closed his eyes and squeezed it tight, holding on to it as if it could save him, then sucked in a quick breath through his nose and whipped it up hard over his left shoulder, gritting his teeth as the thongs bit into his flesh and the weights struck his spine with bruising force. It hurt more than he remembered, or maybe he was stronger now, or his ardor more intense, or maybe it was colder now with the window screen removed and his skin prickled with goose bumps. But he wanted it to hurt more now. Never had he been so sinful—not only masturbating in the woods, but in the confessional itself, polluting a sacrament of the Holy Mother Church. He was out of control, no better than a monster himself, and he needed to be scourged till he was bloody.




The Church without a God



His back burned with pain as he drew the scourge back and whipped it up over his right shoulder, grunting out loud as the thongs tore into his flesh. He didn't pause, but whipped over his left again, and his right, the whip whistling in the cold air of the sacristy. The skin rose in welts on his black and although he tried to suppress his cries of pain, he couldn't keep from groaning out loud as the leather cut into the welts and they started to bleed, the blood seeping down his back in a way that caused a maddening tickle between the hot flashes of jagged pain.

Walking by the church outside, Malo saw the light coming from the sacristy window and came over and peered inside, saw Father Cyryl on his knees by candlelight, his body shining with sweat, his head bowed and brows furrowed in terrible concentration against the pain as he brought the whip up over his shoulders and whistling down to flay the naked flesh of his own innocent back. She stared at the priest as he whipped himself and knew instinctively that he was doing it because of her, because of his need for her, because of the way he'd fallen and transgressed for her, and she watched him with fire in her eyes, her breasts rising and falling as her breathing accelerated, studying every detail of him, feeling every lash of the whip herself. Her eyes locked on his groin, where his cock was erect. Father Cyryl, martyring his body before God, whipping himself till the blood ran, had an enormous erection, such was his zeal for the glory of the Son of Man and his desire to erase the sin he felt for her.

She hurried around to the front of the church and found the south door closed and bolted. The north door was open, though, and she let herself in and ran through the church beneath the gaze of the night-darkened stained glass windows and blind saints. There was a howling from outside, a hungry wailing from out in the woods as she ran across the transept and past the altar and the sanctuary. She could hear the angry lashing of the scourge even through the door of the sacristy as she stood outside and pounded upon the door with the flat of her hand.

"Father Cyryl! Father Cyryl! It's Malo! Please open the door! I must speak to you! Please!"

The whipping sound stopped. At last came his voice from behind the door. "What is it Malo? Can't it wait?"

"Father, it's important! It's about the leszys I came up her to tell you. It's about getting rid of them. There might be a way."

There was a long silence. He must be in terrible pain. His voice when it came sounded beaten and exhausted. "Yes? Then wait. Wait, my child. I'll be with you in a moment. Just give me a moment."

The door opened and Father Cyryl stood there disheveled, his surplice on crooked from donning it so hurriedly, his eyes and lips puffy as if he'd been sleeping or making love.

"Yes, yes? What is it, Malo? What can you tell me?"

"Father," she said rushing in and putting her hands against his chest. "Father forgive me, I didn't mean to spy but I couldn't help but see what you were doing. You were chastising yourself." She spoke hurriedly, pushing him back, not giving him time to reply. "You were using a scourge, and seeing that reminded me, it made me remember—they're attracted to that. They're attracted to human suffering, to anguish and grief and pain. It calls then and they can't resist. We can call them, father. We can call them the same way, with the scourge, and archers can kill them. They're just as mortal as normal animals, father. Archers can kill them and we'll be done with them, father. Archers and men with spears. We'll kill them and be free of them, father. It's as easy as that. Give me your scourge."

"What?" He looked at her.

"Give me your scourge, father. I want to show you. I want to demonstrate. Give it to me!"

He reached into his sleeve and put the whip into her hand.

"Lift up your robe and lean across the table."

"Malo—!"

"Father! I saw what you were doing. This is a chastisement of the flesh, is it not? Lift up your robe!"

She pushed him down and gathered up his robe to reveal his red and striped back and Father Cyryl leaned across the rough boards of the sacristy table. 

"Malo, this isn't right!"

"Father, I can do this! And do it better than you!"

She put her small white hand against his skin as he leaned on his arms and raised the scourge and brought it down with a sizzling hiss across his back and Cyryl cried out, the stripes landing at right angles to the others. She raised his robe higher and gave him another stroke, this time the fall from the scourge wrapped around his ribs and the ends of the thongs reached as far as his nipple and the Priest gasped in pain. She reared back and gave him another, and another, and with each one he froze as if the pain temporarily paralyzed him, or was so good it had to be savored without moving.

"Yes, father? Yes?" she asked him, grabbing his hair and pulling his head up to whisper hotly in his ear.

"Oh yes, Malo! Yes! More! In the name of the Father, the Son, the—"

"Holy Ghost!" she completed, bringing the scourge down with a vicious snap across his back.

Cyryl arched, the muscles in his shoulders tightening as his shadow danced against the stone walls from the flickering candles, and Malo leaned forward, pressing her breasts against the welts on his back.

"Malo," he moaned, panting for breath. "Malo, my God!"

She ripped open the ties on the bodice of her dress and opened it, and her breasts spilled out in the candlelit chamber. She leaned forward, rubbing her nipples in the blood that was oozing from the cuts on his back as Cyryl leaned on his arms beneath her, shuddering with the chill of uncontrollable lust, then she reared back, the blood on her breasts looked black in the candle light and she whipped him again, her face grim and beautiful—two three, four times, back and forth, whipping him as if he were nothing more than a plow horse, a stud beast for her pleasure, and Cyryl arched beneath her blows like a cat, offering the muscles of his back to her whip.

The pain bit into him and made him free, purged him of his sin and spoke directly to the nerves of his body. Under her lash he hand nothing with which to refuse her. Her will replaced his own, her lust became his God, and his search for light was replaced by her darkness, a darkness he could embrace as her passion filled him like a chalice.

There was again the howl from the forest but much closer this time, as if the beasts could smell the scent of blood, and it was answered by another, from the other side of the church. Malo had a grip on his tonsured hair, pulling his head up, her breasts were pressed against his back. 

"You see?" she whispered. ":You see how they come? How they love your pain, father? Pain and lust, they love any strong emotion. It attracts them like honey attracts flies! Let me show you. Let me show you how they come! How they come, how they love to come!"

She reached down to his breeches and found his cock, big, swollen and hard. Cyryl groaned, his hips thrusting forward in automatic reflex. His balls were heavy and aching and Malo's fingers slid inside his breeches and scratched along the bottoms of his gravid testicles, teasing and arousing them, then closed on his thick and massive tool and squeezed. Cyryl's eyes closed heavily and his mouth fell open as he moaned like a beast. He felt the ejaculatory spasms in his prostate and his anus and he thought he was finished right there, but she quickly let him go, stepped back and, untying the sash of her dress, let it slide from her body. She stepped out of it and as she did the moon suddenly came out from behind the clouds and moonlight spilled in through the window, splashing down into the room and painting her naked body in silvery gold—her breasts, the tight flare of her hips and the shaped columns of her thighs.

"No," Father Cyryl said, staring at her open-mouthed. "Malo. I'm a priest. You mustn't do this. It means my immortal soul! Please!"

She pushed him back so his bottom was resting against the split-log table and she climbed up onto it like a cat. Squatting down over him, she took his cock in her hand and used it to part her wet and glistening folds, then, holding onto him with one hand behind his neck and pulling his resisting head to her breast, she lowered herself onto his prick, his hard shaft parting and stretching her tight and greedy little sheath.

"Ah! Jesu!" she moaned. He felt like a hot sword spearing into her. She was all snug, muscled and slick, dripping like honey down the column of his dick.

"God, no!" He murmured around the tit he was sucking, his fingers clawing into the table. His cock didn't care what he thought, though, and jerked with excitement as it was swallowed in the crease of her cunt, her labia folding in as it penetrated her and her clit following in blind obeisance to the crude invasion of his master shaft. 

She grunted, piglike, satisfied, then began to move up and down on him, bouncing her pussy as if she were on a horse, riding him, rude and hard, squeezing, twisting, and Cyryl's head fell back, the sweat steaming on his body in the chill air, his balls rolling in their sac. He quickly surrendered, surrendered his cock, his body, and his immortal soul if that's what she wanted. He fell back on the table and reached up for her rich tits, grabbed them and filled his hands with them.

"Oh!" she moaned. "Oh, yes! Oh!" Her cunt came down on him again and again, her skin sticking to him and pumping him, drawing the seed out of him.

She spread her hands out on the broad muscles of his chest and rode him, rode him fast and hard, a greedy mistress, demanding he give her what she wanted, everything that she wanted. She took his hand and showed him where to touch her. Showed him just where to put his thumb, and then she rode him like the devil and his army from hell was after her, she rode him and cried out as she came and Cyryl cried out too as his body jerked in its shameful, sinful release, spewing his hot seed deep into her, deep into the Widow Turek's womb, corruption to corruption and sin to sin.

In the forest, the howling reached a fever pitch, loud enough to wake the devil. Claws scratched at the doors of the church.

**+**

There were only seven people the next night at Compline. Malo came in with a shawl over her head but Father Cyryl paid her no special attention. Jesus knew what he'd done. Jesus knew what he would do. Everything was in the hands of Jesus. If Jesus couldn't reach this far to help Father Cyryl or answer his prayers for aid, then what was Father Cyryl supposed to do? The monsters were on the roof of the church during the service. The people heard them walking about with impunity on the roof of the Lord's house. Roof tiles began to fall. A winged shadow passed between the moon and a stained glass window and those who looked at it felt ill, then all the monsters launched themselves into the air and they heard the beating of many heavy wings as they flew away.

They heard much howling in the forest. The earth was being given back to devils, the forest was closing in. One day they'd awaken to darkness and Borewit would be king over their village. Bats would fill the air and wolves and leszys would pad through the streets with human children in their mouths. What could they do? 

The people all left in a group except for Malo, who Father Cyryl asked to stay.

He sent Toja and Niedan out and locked the church. He took Malo in his arms and kissed her and crushed her breasts in his hands. "Come with me," he said to her.

He led her to the altar in the front of the church where he snuffed out all but one candelabrum and took off his stole and surplice and handed her the scourge.

"What is this, father?" she asked.

"You know what it is."

"This is the church, father Cyryl."

"This is no place. It's an empty shell. Do what you did to me last night." He lay down on his stomach on the altar

"But Father..."

"I'm the priest here and my word is law. You don't know anything.. Wasn't that the way it was when Father Jerek was here?"

"I don't know, Father."

"My word is law. Do what I say. Do what you did last night."

"Father, your back—"

"Whip my ass, then. Go ahead. Whip it." He got up on his knees and stripped down his breeches to expose his backside. His cock was already beginning to rise. "Do as I say, Malo. Now we'll see who suffers for whom or if He cares at all."

She looked around inside the darkened church. The shadows were thick and black and she couldn't see into the corners. The stained glass windows gleamed dully, the agony of the saints was invisible in the gloom. Father Cyryl's cock was standing out erect.  

She drew the scourge back and slashed him across the buttocks, the whip sounding harsh and cruel as the thongs raised welts in the tender skin of his ass. Malo's fear had translated into more strength than she'd intended and Father Cyryl cried out.

"I'm sorry!" she said quickly.

"Again!"

[I]Whissshhh!![/I] Slappp!!!

"Hunh!!!" 

He tightened his buttocks and grimaced as the thongs burned his flesh and the lead weights cut him and made him bleed. He looked like he'd been struck with a bunch of red-hot wires across his bottom, yet even as he was reflexively thrusting his hips forward his cock was so hard it was arching its back like a leaping fish, a drop of pre-cum already drooling from the tip belying his excitement.

"More," he gasped.

Kneeling on the altar, his ass was almost at chest level, so Malo took up a position directly behind him and began to lash him back and forth, forehand and backhand, holding the scourge with two hands, the wicked swoop and slash of the thongs along with Father Cyryl's grunts and moans of pain and pleasure filling the deserted church. 

From the woods came the sudden cry of the leszys, close by and seemingly howling for blood. Cyryl ignored them, swept up in an ecstasy of pain and contrition, bleeding now, his cock jerking with every lash, his face transfigured into a mask of rapture and suffering, his blood spattered upon the altar. He reached back behind him and grabbed Malo by the hair and pulled her around in front of him, plunged both hands into her thick gold hair, and pulling her face to him, thrust his hips forward and rammed his prick into her mouth, impaling her.

"Oh! Jesus God! Take it! Take it!"

She sputtered at first, choking on the massive mouthful of meat, but quickly regained her poise and began to breathe through her nose and suck hard at his cock. Father Cyryl reacted as though the pleasure of her mouth had punched him in the stomach, his body folding almost in half, then he began to fuck her mouth with savage intensity, rocking up ferociously from his knees, thrusting the whole of his cock into her face, his lazy balls rolling with sinister intent in their sac, the thick shaft emerging from her mouth shining with saliva like an evil snake. Malo gasped and choked and the saliva spilled from her mouth. Outside, the creatures howled.

"Come here," he said, pulling her head off his cock. "Come here!"

"What? What, Father? What?" She was delirious for him, her lips bruised and thick, swollen with lust.

He grabbed at her dress and pulled it up over her head , that rag that hid such a magnificent treasure. He jumped down from the altar, wincing as he put weight on his legs, then took her and pushed her and arranged her till she was standing up, her chest lying across the altar and he entered her from behind, his cock gliding into the tight clutch of her pussy with a thick, viscous sound as Malo arched for him, his face twisted into an insidious mask of lust. He grabbed her hair and started fucking her, hard, hard, pumping into her with complete abandon, his loins slapping against her ass with a thick, wet sound. The howling came again, so close as to come through the hole in the transept.

"Oh God, they're close! They're close!"

"You can call them, Malo, can't you? You can!"

"No! They obey no one!"

"Your husband is one. He knows you!"

"Father! They're monsters. They're monsters of the forest!"

"You're lying, Malo! You're a witch! You're a witch and you call them, don't you? They always come when you're around! They follow you when you're around. You fuck them, don't you? At night, you fuck them and do unspeakable things with them! You suck their cocks and they tell you their infernal secrets and then you come here and you beat a Father of the Church, you whore! You slut! You cocksucker!"

"No, Father! No!"

"Don't lie to me Malo! Because I don't care anymore! Now tell me the truth! You're a witch, aren't you?"

"Yes! Yes! I'm a witch! I'm a witch but so what? Fuck me! Fuck me you bastard! Fuck me with your holy prick! I'm a witch! I worship the devil, you son of a bitch because he's the only one who cares! Your Jesus doesn't care. Your God doesn't care, so what should I do? Now fuck me and shoot your holy come inside me, you fucking hypocrite because you don't care either! Shoot it in me before those things tear you to pieces! Your Father Jerek is one of them and soon you'll be too!" 

He grabbed her hair and pulled so that she arched her back and cried out in pain and he fucked into her with all his strength, trying to kill her with his cock, trying to rip her and make her bleed. He grabbed her and threw her down onto her knees on the flagstones and jumped on her again and stabbed her with his prick and began to batter her, biting her shoulders and squeezing her tits, a wild man, filled with the violent empty hatred of a man who has nothing left, not God, not love, not even hope. The howling of the beasts was loud now, so loud they might have stepped through the hole in the transept and torn him from her back and devoured him, hard cock and all. Malo was weeping out loud as orgasm took Father Cyryl, orgasm took him and rushed over him like a wall of fire and he felt like he was shooting acid into her, like his balls were filled with death, hatred and ruin, the silence of God, the disgust of Jesus and his refusal to even listen or look at him.

Father Cyryl pulled out of her. He pulled out of her and staggered away and sat down heavily on the floor of the church, his back against the confessional. There were more of the leszys howling now. The seemed to have picked up on his despair and were mocking him, howling and wailing, and Father Cyryl grabbed his cock in his hand and squeezed out the last drops of come and began to howl too. He put back his head and began to wail. Malo got to her knees and crawled to the shadows of a near corner, frightened witless, and Father Cyryl sat on the floor on and howled with the monsters of the woods, alone, bereft, surrounded by death and doom.

**+**

Borslaw arranged for Father Cyryl to buy honey mead from Ninorad Liska, which required Father Cyryl to empty out the collection box of the few coins there were in there and take the money he'd received to say masses for the dead. He didn't mind. They wouldn't need it, and if he were to say masses, it was more important he stay drunk. In the dim light of day there was the sound of snuffling from the woods and he saw things slithering in the forest. In the morning through his glass window he saw great red chicken feet lifting off from a tree and he wondered now if these things were the people from the village who changed their shape, come to harass him and do him evil. The earth was corrupt and there was nothing he could do about it. God had abandoned him and left him prey to whores and monsters that it was not in his power to deflect or refuse. He was no St. Anthony to pull his penis off with his own hands in the wilderness to foil the Tempter and bleed to death in Glory for Christ. There was nothing he could do but fight for no good reason, for no reward, a pitiful, doomed, laughable figure.




The Church without a God



He drank mead with Ninorad. He drank so much he started seeing double and had to sit down. The clouds were low outside, the mist crawling through the trees like silent, evil vipers, the air bitter and cold and thick with the threat of rain. He was not far from Malo's cottage. He thought maybe he would stop there on the way back along the muddy road and apologize for his behavior in the church and give her one of the jars of mead that were strapped to the horse. When he heard the sound, he thought it was thunder. He could walk by then and he got up and went outside, hoping to get to Malo's before the rain.

It wasn't thunder. It was horses. Archers and soldiers from the Baron of Swodjz, carrying torches and bows, and with them the Bailiff on a piebald charger. They churned up the mud and the men looked mean and sullen. The people were just coming in from the fields as the Bailiff gathered them together and read from a dirty scrap of linen: 

"Whereas the village of Virlun is home to many witches and worshippers of Satan and his devils and monsters who wish His Most Excellent Sire, the Baron of Swodjz evil and bring sickness down upon him; and whereas witches and devils and monsters hate the cleansing power of fire and the righteous power of the bow and arrow; then the Baron decrees that every tenth house in the village of Virlun be put to the torch and if its occupants try to flee they do thereby demonstrate their guilt in the crime of witchcraft and shall therefore be slain by the bow and arrow for all to see, that they may thereby be an example for all the people of Virlun who may thus stop their mischief and evil works against His Most Excellent Sire, the Baron of Swodjz. So be it. Commence!"

And the men with the torches rode to one end of the village and started burning huts, counting every tenth one on their fingers, and counting none too accurately either, for they all were stupid and drunk, and as the people ran from the houses, men with steel helmets sat on their horses and killed them with bows and arrows, shot them down as they ran, men, women, old folks and children, left them writhing in the dirt where spear men came over and stabbed them easily in the throat or chest like animals, except for some women whom they raped, or some men whom they toyed with, spearing them in the rectum and balls and leaving them to suffer for their amusement.

Father Cyryl was drunk too, but he ran out and remonstrated with the soldiers, and was slapped in the face and pushed in the mud and thrown down and almost speared for his trouble. He was laughed at and despised, and once again God looked away and Jesus turned his back in contempt and he despised them back. He despised them with a hatred that was stronger than the love he once felt for them. 

The soldiers passed Malo's house and torched the old lady's house two houses down and killed her with an arrow through the eye when she tried to escape. Then they got on their horses and rode away back to the Baron's castle.

**+**

When Malo came to the church that night, Cyryl didn't say a word. He pulled her inside and he kissed her desperately. He bit her mouth and he clutched her breasts as if he'd rip them off. He squeezed her to him as if he'd crush her to death, and tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Malo!" he said. "Malo! Malo!" It was all he could say. "The whip. Get the whip!"

The howling was already sounding in the forest. They could hear the slithering of vast bodies tunneling through the leaves.

"Take me outside. I want to go outside."

"Father Cyryl, no! No! The monsters are out there tonight!"

"But you're a witch. You know how to call them."

"But I can't control them, Father! I don't know what they'll do!"

He stripped off her clothes and gave her the whip, then took off his own clothes, gabbed her wrist and pulled her out the door in the transept and out into the weeds behind the church where the moonlight played through the trees in the woods. 

"Where do you call them, Malo? Show me. I know you call them."

"Oh my God, Father. It's over there. Just in that clearing. By those two trees."

"How long have you been a witch, Malo? How long?"

"All my life, Father. All my life. My mother was a witch before me."

"Will they take me?"

"I don't know Father. Father, they're monsters! There's no telling what they'll do!"

He held her wrist and pulled her across the clearing towards the two saplings. He could see now the trees had ropes tied around them at chest height; old, frayed ropes, much used.

"What must you do, Malo?"

She was weeping now. "I tie you Father, and whip you. And they come."

"Then do it!"

"Oh God no, Father! For the love of Jesus—!"

"Do it! Damn you to hell! Do as I say!"

She could hardly see the ropes she was crying so hard but she got his wrists tied to the saplings so his arms were out to the sides. They were naked, both of them, as naked as Adam and Eve in the moonlit clearing and Malo couldn't stop crying, the snot and tears running down her face. Father Cyryl stood with his arms outstretched as if he were being crucified, and she got behind him and whipped him, whipped his back and whipped his ass and the sound of the scourge was sharp and clear in the moonlit clearing.

The howling started and there was the sound of wings in the trees and branches breaking. The howling got closer and with it came a darkness. Malo screamed and dropped the whip and ran back for the church, naked, running, and the wings came closer. Father Cyryl screamed when he first saw them but then he didn't scream anymore.