She crossed the street in front of me as she had done a thousand times before. Today she was wearing a loose fitting summer dress, perhaps in hopes of defeating the oppressive summer humidity. This was out of character, usually 'tight as humanly possible' was her fashion statement.
I had first noticed her months ago when I began to take my lunches out-of-doors in the park. This was a strangely secluded area given that it was in the middle of a rather large city. What I liked most was that I could sit and watch the ladies pass by on parade. Most walked quickly, trying to be invisible as they completed their passage. Some seemed to know that guys like me were out there somewhere enjoying the view. Still fewer women put on a deliberate show, walking as if on a runway with exaggerated strides across the street. These were the women that made me smile and gave my cock a jolt as I watched them stride by. They knew and enjoyed the secret. She was one of them.
My head snapped to find the cause of the honking horns and there she was, smack in the middle of a commotion (probably the cause). Two cars narrowly missed each other but I was drawn to the sight of her skirt inching up a tan and well cut thigh as she maneuvered safely between near accident. I and the rest of the males present followed her swaying hips as she walked up the sidewalk. I don't know why I didn't think it strange when this sexy woman, high heels clicking on the concrete, entered a church.
That day I did not have time to wait for her exit; I just had to hope I would see her again. I find that many city folks are creatures of some habit or schedule and praise the Lord I was right. Two days later I saw her once again entering the R.C. church. On this day her blouse was exceedingly tight and almost sheer. Her jugs bounced with each stride she took. If she was wearing slacks or a skirt I couldn't tell you, all I saw was a rack designed by Himself.
Over the course of the summer I was treated to her performance at least once a week, always at lunchtime and always she was dressed to thrill. In fact I noticed that always her blouse, or sweater, or T-shirt was one size too small. Yes her slacks were tight or her skirt short and her heels were always high but she didn't seem to be emphasizing these things. She seemed to really be showing off her big, round, pointed knockers.
As the weeks passed I found myself gravitating closer and closer to the church so that I could get a better view. Then God spoke to me. "Go inside," he commanded. Good idea. I thanked him...for the idea and for the woman.
It was hushed and dark and cool inside, I was alone. Or so I thought. Out of the shadows a man appeared, dressed in black except for the thin white line circling his neck. Must be the priest I thought. Also I was surprised to see he was a man more handsome then one would expect of a priest. "Probably drives the ladies wild," I caught myself thinking.
In fact,in the darkness I'd guess we two could pass for brothers. Others began to enter the church and I noticed he had quietly disappeared.
Not being terribly familiar with the goings on in a Catholic church I just sat back and watched as one by one folks opened a door stayed within a few minutes and then quietly left the church. A light dawned, Confession!
At that moment, echoing inside the vastness of the church came the click, click, click of heels striking marble. I turned and there she was, moving like a ghost in the cool shadows. In the hushed sanctuary the sound of her ass sliding on the smooth oak pew was just barely audible. She crossed herself and bowed her head. My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness and I was able to make out the indented shape of a bra strap across her back and when she rose to enter the confessional the round firmness of her breasts almost took my breath away.
For minutes I waited, straining my ears to hear her voice but to no avail. Sometimes it seemed I heard laughter or an angry voice or strange moaning coming from behind the closed door but the sounds were so faint I could not be certain.