Pastoral Visit

I love sex and I make no apologies for it. I love sex to the point that if it were possible I think I would spend much of my time engaged in it. All right, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but you can see what I'm getting at.

Since my very first time with the choir master of a church choir that in youth I sang with I've sought sex with any man I fancied. I'm not going to be modest about it; as some of the men have remarked, I've got the body of a love goddess, a Venus, an earth mother. Those are just some of the comments I have received so I don't have a problem getting any man I fancy.

I'm fairly tall; five feet ten to be exact. I can't say that facially I'm pretty or beautiful, but my face has a sensual look about it, with soft full lips, and slightly upturned nose with flaring nostrils, and very dark blue eyes, and my hair is flame colour and curly. As one guy said, "You look like some wild animal stalking its victim."

My figure is full with large, very large, breasts, that despite my two breast fed children were still quite firm with long pink nipples. My legs are long and strong, and the men love to feel them wrapped round them, even though I've nearly broken a few backs. I kept my genitals free of pubic hair so that the guys could see what they're getting and it didn't get in the way when they' had oral sex with me. Some of them didn't like oral sex but I made them have it with me whether they liked it or not, it was one of my conditions for them copulating with me.

Here's a tip for you ladies who might be interested in expanding your sex lives. I've noticed that a lot of the straight laced, prune faced ladies douse themselves with heavy perfume, deodorant or scented soap. I use only the mildest smelling soap and allow my female fragrance to float free. That gets a lot of guys interested.

That's another thing; I'm totally uninhibited when it comes to the sex act. Oral, vaginal, anal sex; having the guy shoot his load between my breasts or anywhere else he fancies, is okay with me just so long as he makes me come in the end.

I also like having children and never feel better and more randy than when I'm pregnant. That said, my wimp of a husband went and had a vasectomy. He didn't want to have any more children, but what he didn't realise was, he'd never had any children. The two I'd got were from other men and he never suspected.

When he had the vasectomy I was placed in a difficult position. If I got pregnant again he'd have to know it wasn't by him, so I had to surreptitiously keep myself on the pill.

Poor Sam; right from the start he hadn't been able to cope with me. He's an accountant and I met him when I worked as a clerk in his office. From the moment I began work I could see he fancied me, but then most guys do. The trouble was, he was like the proverbial flea who, finding itself on an elephant, knew what it had to do but didn't know where to begin. So I showed Sam where to begin one evening after work on the office floor.

The one thing above all that he and every guy I've been with appreciated the most, is the grip and suck of my vaginal muscle. I gather from what has been said that most women have flaccid vaginal muscles, but mine can suck the juice out of a guy and don't they yell when I grip them!

Sam was really smitten and since at the time I was looking for some financial security, and he was doing all right, when he asked me to marry him I said yes. I knew at the time he'd never be able to satisfy me sexually, but that was okay because I knew I could get what I needed by other means.

I suppose by now you'll be thinking I'm a first-class bitch, a rampant raging nymphomaniac, and everyone must have known what I'm like, but it wasn't quite like that. As I said, I love sex and I also like guys to enjoy my body, but not just any guys; I chose who I let into paradise rather carefully.

I've always been a very good and virtuous church lady, doing the flowers and polishing the communion table and all that. The guys I chose to copulate with we're all nice, respectable church men. They wanted me but they also want to go on looking respectable, and that made it safe. They were unlikely to go around saying, "Oh, by the way, I'm fucking Jessie," (that's me).

Another thing is, they came to me from their dull and droopy wives who probably let them fuck them once a month, so when they did come to me they were really hot and rearing to go. I know some women think that guys who are all muscle, tattoos and smell of sweat are the really hot prospects, but don't you believe it. It's those pillars of the church, mild looking and highly regarded who really come on strong once you've broken through their inhibitions. I could give them all the things they've ever dreamed of, and some things they hadn't dreamed of.

Another thing is, I'd nearly always had four or five guys on the go, so I was careful to space them out so they never clash. Each of them thought they were the only one, but as you will realise, just like Sam no one of them could satisfy me in the way I needed to be satisfied.

So, to sum up, they kept me gratified and I kept them happy.

Now you may be wondering about love. I know that some people think that love and sex go together. I can't say I loved the guys I had sex with. I liked them and wanted to please them, but I hadn't come across one for whom I'd leave Sam and fly with to distant places.

Sometimes they imagined themselves in love with me but like most guys that was usually before and during coitus; once they'd shot their load they tended to want to be up and away, and just so long as they'd made me come, that was fine with me. I didn't need them hanging around – well I needed Sam to hang around because he brought home the money.

If you're feeling sorry for Sam, then let me point out that I kept the home neat and tidy, cooked good meals and he got the little sex he wanted. Above all he had nice fresh bed sheets to climb into because we only had one double bed and I didn't want there to be any signs of my romantic activities. Just as well I had a good washing machine.

Now part of the problem with my sexual mode of life was timing. All the guys I enjoyed myself with had to go to work and found it hard to get time off during the day for frolicking. One of them, a bank manager, was ok, since he could go out occasionally to "see a client," and another was a self-employed plumber who took time off to visit me. But with the others it could be difficult.

Sam invariably went out to the football on Saturday afternoons so that was free except for the children. With them I'm dependent on my mother having them for the afternoon or the knowledge that they are playing with some of the neighbour's kids and hopefully wouldn't come busting in unexpectedly.

I can tell you there were a few frustrating occasions when the children were hanging around the house while I'd got a potential lover waiting to enter into bliss and the kids just wouldn't go away. We usually had to end up having a quick stand-up coupling while I watched what the kids were doing in the garden through a window.

That's one of the hazards you have to expect if your life-style was like mine, but I've always dreamed of finding someone I fancied who was free to visit any time. I didn't expect the dream to come true but eventually it did.

We had a new minister appointed to our congregation. He took my fancy as soon as I met him. Tall, very good-looking, and ebullient, if you know what I mean; above all, he was unmarried and his name was David; looking at him I could see why Goliath succumbed so easily.

I'd never enjoyed a member of the clergy and didn't expect to, but fate can sometimes take a hand.

Two events took place that coming together made for a happy outcome. First, the then secretary of the congregation retired, and since no one else seemed to want the task and I'd had clerical experience, I took it. Second, one day I'd driven into my driveway and was in a hurry to get into the house. Foolishly in slamming the car door somewhat energetically I had my hand so placed that it got crushed between door and doorframe. I sustained a broken finger and a badly bruised hand.

Rumour being what it is word got round the congregation and in the process I was supposed to have practically severed my hand or arm off. A concerned young cleric was soon on my doorstep enquiring after my well being.

He came in; I displayed my battle wounds and made a cup of tea. While he was there we discussed the secretarial work and I realised that the job would entail considerable contact with the minister.

Some people consider that clergymen are sexual neuters, or if they aren't they have to behave as if they are. Like most guys I could see that he was interested in me since his eyes kept roaming to my breasts and legs. I was only wearing a short skirt and flimsy top with no bras at the time, so there was a fair bit for him to see.

It was amusing in a way because he kept trying to drag his eyes away, but they kept coming back. Whatever else he was, he wasn't a neuter, nor from what I could tell was he gay. He was just twenty five and a real hunk and it wasn't long before his well cut grey ecclesiastical trousers could no longer hide signs of his proud manhood. As well as that he kept losing track of what we were talking about, and kept finding reasons to stay a little longer.

I could see he wasn't going to be easy because apart from anything else, copulating with a member of his congregation, especially a married member, if discovered would quickly lead to his dismissal, unfrocking (what a tantalising thought), or transfer to a remote parish where he would never be heard of again.

I was giving him all the come-on I could; you know, leaning forward so he could see my cleavage, sitting near him on the divan so I could touch him as if emphasising some point in the conversation, and even letting my thigh glue to his occasionally.

I'll say this for him, he was resolute. His face had turned pink and he was trembling and desperately trying to control it. I'd seen too many guys in this situation not to be able to read the signs.

In the meantime I'd got worked up myself. Not that this was unusual because I'm sexually ready most of the time. My clitoris was throbbing, I was lubricating, and if I'd been wearing something like shorts he must have seen a wet patch in the crotch. I wasn't sure how good he was at reading the signs of female arousal, but if he had any experience at all he would have noticed that my nipples were standing out like ripe strawberries.

I wanted him and was fairly sure I'd have him some time, but I have one golden rule I always stick to in these situations; I never make the first overt move. For all my teasing behaviour, no guy was ever going to be able to say that I'd seduced him; he had to make the first move.

I didn't ask for much; a kiss; a hand laid on my breast or thigh, and I'd take it from there. But I got no such response from my pastoral visitor that day, but I knew how to wait.

The poor guy, when he finally did leave he was in a hell of a state, and I conjectured he'd have to go home and masturbate half a dozen times to cool off.

I'd got no other visitor coming to see me that day, so that night I was still so worked up, and after a lot of persuading, I got Sam to copulate with me. When he penetrated me it was like having a limp wet sausage pushed into me and it took all my powers of suction to get a dribble of sperm out of him. As you might guess it wasn't very satisfactory but it was better than nothing.

As I said, I was fairy sure I had David and if he followed the usual pattern he would soon come calling again. I wasn't wrong but he came sooner than I expected, the next day in fact. Had he been half an hour earlier he would have met my bank manager making a deposit with me. I was in the process of removing the residue of this welcome deposit from my vagina when front door bell rang. I was still naked and had to fling on a handy housecoat to go and answer the door.

There he stood, flushed and flustered, waving some papers in front of me and trying not to stutter.

"I…er…I…I j-j-just thought I'd…er…see you about…about the…er membership…ah...roles, if it's…ah…convenient."

I thought I'd give him a bit of encouragement, and inviting him into my lair I told him he would be welcome anytime. I didn't quite mean that because he might just arrive while I was copulating with one of his church elders, but I thought it was a good thing to say.

I got him onto the divan again and made sure that the housecoat just happened to keep opening at the front and I had to keep adjusting it. That way I knew I would keep his focus on what I consider to be my most appealing feature, my breasts. It worked beautifully and in the end he just couldn't keep his eyes off them.

He rambled on in his hesitant way for about ten minutes. It was clear that he had no real need to come and see me about the matter of the church roles. I knew I had him hooked and any time he would make a move. Once again I had to give him credit for his strength of will. It was not until the last moment he made the move.

Despite the fact that I'd copulated and had an orgasm only a short while before, I was all worked up again. I tried my little allurements and still he made no attempt on me.

I was getting desperate. He finally could find no further reason for staying longer and rose to leave. My female ego wasn't in good shape. I felt as if for once I had failed to get my man.

It was at the front door, in the dim light of the hallway, he made his move. My hand was on the latch ready to reluctantly open the door when without a word he gave me a hasty kiss on the lips. It was no more than a peck, but it was sufficient.

I let myself sway against him, looking at him adoringly. He was taller than me so I put my hand behind his head, swirling my moist lips over his and flicking them with my tongue.

He moaned and said, "Oh God, Jessie, you've got such beautiful breasts."

"Yes," I whispered close to his ear, "and the nipples are good for sucking."

He groaned again and I pressed my belly against him, rotating my hips. I knew I had him; he wouldn't – couldn't – resist any longer.

"Come with me," I whispered, and taking his hand led him back to the lounge and the divan. We sat down and I drew his hand inside my housecoat and pressed his fingers over my breast.

I knew he wasn't going to be able to last long and I was aching to have him inside me, but I wanted to make good my boast. I opened the housecoat to expose both my breasts; the nipples were once more like firm pink strawberries.

I raised one of the breasts to extend its nipple towards him and said, "You'll enjoy sucking me." I put my hand behind his head to encourage him, and drew his face to the breast. He took the nipple into his mouth and began to suck avidly, while his hand fondled my other breast.

I didn't dare let him do this for too long in case he shot his load before he penetrated me. As gently as I could I removed him from my breasts and stood to remove my housecoat. As I stood naked in front of him I said, "It's only fair, you've got to undress too," and I removed his suit coat and began to get his shirt off.

It was a bit of struggle because at the same time he was trying to help me, but we finally got there and I dragged his trousers and underpants off simultaneously.

I was on my knees as I pulled his trousers down. I got them part way down and then stopped, taken aback for a moment. I'd heard of men being "hung like a stallion," but had never seen one until that moment. He had huge testicles and rearing up from them was the biggest male organ I had ever beheld.

I've never actually measured them, but most of the male organs I'd experienced I'd guessed to be between four to six inches. The one now rearing up right in front of my face must have been eight or even nine inches in length, thick and with a purple head looking like one of those onion domes on an orthodox church.

His whole shaft looked engorged with blood and I thought I could see it throbbing in time with his heart beat. From its urethra clear pre-cum was oozing and the whole head was shiny with it. I was tempted to engage in a favourite practice of mine and lick up the sticky fluid, but again I thought he might come while I was doing it, and I wanted the output of those massive testes to be inside me.

Saying "Let me," I encouraged him to lie on the divan, and then I sat astride him. I had decided that if he was hung like a stallion I would ride him like one. Apart from anything else, I wanted to be in control as that huge phallus entered me, not being sure how much I could take.

I poised my vaginal entrance over his shaft, the head just pressing against my inner labia, and then I slowly lowered myself onto him. As soon as he started to enter me he moaned, "Oh God, that's so beautiful."

He was tight against the wall of my tunnel but there was no pain. I lowered myself slowly and just as I thought I couldn't take any more, I found I'd got his full length in me. I felt for his testes, and they were right up against my outer labia. They felt firm, as if full of his seed. I thought perhaps he hadn't masturbated the previous day after all and he'd saved it all for me. For all my sexual experience I had some things to learn about this guy.

Assured that I got all of him in me I did my vagina clenching thing. David gave what sounded like the howl of a wounded animal and then cried out, "Oh my God, Jessie, that's fantastic, I've never felt anything like it before."

I'd heard that cry before, but for good measure I gripped him a few more times dragging some very satisfying ecstatic cries from him. I was starting to make some ecstatic noises myself as I started to buck up and down on him. Secure in the knowledge that he wasn't going to do any damage to me with that mighty organ I let myself go.

It didn't last for long; David gave a mighty "Yeeow," and his sperm, impelled by his mighty testes slammed into me. Almost simultaneously the orgasm that had been hanging threateningly over me hit like a pile driver and I was off somewhere in space, whirling around as coloured lights exploded in my head and electric shocks seemed to jolt my genitals. Someone was screaming and crying, and while I knew it was me, it didn't seem to be me.

It felt as if David off-loaded a bucket full of sperm into me and as I finished I drooped over him so my breasts brushed against his chest. He didn't show any signs of wanting to disengage from me and I was in no hurry to lose him. He lay there fondling my breasts almost as if he hadn't just come into me, and he kept saying, "You were fantastic Jessie…fantastic…"

I gathered from what he was saying that despite his clerical virtue there had been others and that he was making comparisons. I wasn't too disappointed because given the times we live in I could hardly have expected him to be a virgin at twenty five. In any case I was clearly being compared to my advantage, so that was okay.

I was doing a bit of comparing myself and decided that his massive male organ would be welcome in my vagina any time. I wasn't too sure about my anus since I'd always been a bit tight there, but I thought we could experiment later with that.

It was then I realised that my dream had come true. Here was a lover who would have legitimate reasons for calling on me in my role as church secretary almost any time. That of course raised the old problem of his arriving when I was entertaining another guy. I supposed that I would just have to not answer the door if he did come at such a time. At that moment I didn't know that the problem was to be solved in a way I never anticipated.

It was about ten minutes since we had orgasmed together and to my amazement David began to raise and lower me on his penis. He was rock hard and ready to go. If I'd ever got a second round with any of the other guys I'd always had to wait for at least an hour or more before they could get it up again. Not that I'd had seconds very often since they were usually eager to go after the first time.