For Todd
* * * * *
The freshly waxed pews smelled of lemony polish, the sounds of my feet were muted by the thick mulberry colored carpeting, the lights were dimmed. I hurried down the aisle, feeling like a sinner on my way to hell, not a churchgoer on her way to the pulpit. I was incredibly conscious of the fact that I wasn't wearing any panties, like some Jezebel on her way to a paying customer.
He was standing at the altar, his tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up. He had been reading something, now he was just watching me approach silently. His expression, visible in the bright lights surrounding the altar, was inscrutable, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I stopped at the foot of the steps leading upward into the lighted pulpit. My fingers twisted nervously on the hymnal.
"Hello," he said, his voice a shadow of the strong orator's tones that had rung through the sanctuary only a few hours prior.
"Hello," I replied, my voice nearly inaudible.
"We don't have to do this. I'll understand, I won't be mad."
"Do you want to?"
"Yes, very much." He smiled uncertainly. "But not if it's going to bother you."
"I w-want to." I dropped the hymnal. Ninny, I cursed myself, bending to pick it up. He came down the stairs and placed his hands on my shoulders. Unholy fire raced from his hands to the pit of my belly, his touch, so alien and so familiar. He touched me all the time, mostly on the hands, swift impersonal touches. This was the second time he'd touched me in a personal way.
I licked my lips, remembering when he had, a few months ago after choir practice. The choir had left and I'd been playing Beethoven before heading home, the full ebullient sound of the Pastorale Symphony filled the sanctuary with its gentle melody. He was standing a few feet away, a twist of my head and I was eye level with his belt. My eyes had automatically locked on the placket of his trousers and the bulge that was forming behind it. The Beethoven's 6th symphony had slipped a few notes before returning again, this time deeper and richer. I had continued to stare, suddenly and physically aware of the preacher as a man. Goosebumps had broken across my arms and I had lifted my eyes to his. He'd approached silently, moving around behind me. My eyes had returned to my fingers, not seeing them, just feeling the heat of him.
I'd flinched, I remember, when his hands had dropped onto my shoulders; then leaned back against him. He'd whispered to keep playing, so I had, ignoring my fingers on the keys and feeling his instead. They'd crept illicitly down my upper arms, pausing just above my elbow. Hesitantly, as if he'd thought I would bolt, his left hand slipped inward, gently cupping the swell of my breast. We'd both groaned, my nipple hardening insistently against his palm. The heat of that remembered touch still echoed through my mind.
"You don't have to. We shouldn't," he reiterated gently.
"I want to, we will." I took a deep breath. "I want you."
"Take off your dress," he whispered, his hot breath stirring the hair near my ear. My nipples puckered painfully at the thought. Naked in the sanctuary. I dropped the hymnal again. My fingers went up to the buttons on the top of my dress and began to slowly undo them.
I managed to undo the top five buttons, opening my dress to the waist, when he stopped me. He slipped his hands between the lapels of the dress and unhooked the front clasp of my bra. Gently, almost reverently, he spread the cups open, baring my breasts to his gaze. The chill of the sanctuary washed over my skin, puckering the nipples up in an offering to his mouth. He licked his lips, looking as if he wanted to suck on them, but instead, he took my hand and tugged me to the piano. Confused, I sat on the bench.
"Play for me," he asked, puppyishly hopeful. My fingers went to the keys and Beethoven's Symphony #6 filled the sanctuary. He gently tugged my dress from under my rear, until my naked fanny was resting on the velvet cushion. It was the oddest sensation, I'd sat there many times, but my bare skin had never touched the cushion.
"I've dreamed of doing this to you," he murmured, squatting next to me. Beethoven faltered. "Spread your legs for me."
That was the dirtiest thing I'd ever heard him say. My legs spread almost on their own, even though Beethoven required me to use the foot pedals, and he crawled in between them. I'd dreamt of this moment, our first kiss. In my dreams it had been many things, hot, torrid, a long protracted dueling of tongues accompanied by shadowy writhing bodies. I had never dreamed that the first lips to receive his kiss would be the ones between my legs. Beethoven crashed to a discordant halt. My fingers slipped from the keys to his head in a jangle of jarring notes that felt just like I did.
He stopped, his eyes lifting along the length of my body. I could see them and a part of his nose, the rest was hidden by the curve of my body and my pussy. "Keep playing." His moving lips and the vibration of his rich voice sent chords of heat through my labia. My fingers returned to the piano keys and played something. His tongue stabbed into my pussy; my head dropped back and I groaned.
The picture of what we must look like from a distance intruded hotly. A fresh rush of wet cream hit his tongue. He moaned and laved the inside of my pussy more urgently. Sitting on the bench to the piano, my legs widespread, the skirt of my prim and proper dress hiked up, the lapels of the dress held open by my naked breasts, and my friend and pastor sucking at my cunt on his knees between my legs, I played Beethoven in church.
"Oh my, I'm going to..." I moaned, twisting my hips to bring my pussy more fully against his mouth. The inner muscles were throbbing hotly, flexing convulsively against his tongue. He put one hand on the top of my pussy and did something with his fingers that made my clit pop out of its hiding place into the chilly air. He dragged his tongue through my wet lips and swirled it around my exposed clit. I squeaked, desperately trying to continue with the Pastorale Symphony.
One of his fingers on his free hand slipped between my legs, tracing a long line on my quivering thigh from knee to pussy, then slid inside. Not too far, just far enough to softly stroke the clenching muscles at the opening to my body. I leaned back farther, spreading my legs wider to give him better access to whatever he wanted. He slipped another finger in there and just petted my cunt. His lips wrapped around my clit, his teeth gently scraping it, holding it steady for a fast laving with the tip of his tongue.
Suddenly, I needed to be penetrated, to have him deep inside me, to be fucked. His stroking fingers and licking tongue were driving me insane. I had never been more intensely aware of how empty my pussy was. My fingers curled in his hair, my hips humped my pussy up at his mouth and fingers, and I begged him to please, please fuck me. I could hear him chuckling deep in his throat, I could feel the vibration against my clit. "Please, fuck me, please I need to cum. Please!"
He slipped the very tip of one finger inside of my cunt, just the tip. My pussy wrapped itself around it wetly, gleefully sucking on that little penetration. With a long lick on my clit he lifted his head. "You want me to fuck you?"
That word coming from his lips sent a shiver of delight down my spine. "Yes, please."
He licked my clit again, slowly twisting the tip of his finger inside of my pussy. "Please?"
"Yes! Please fuck me now, I have to cum." I twisted my hips, trying to get him to stick his finger in deeper, I was burning, my pussy hot an throbbing, my nipples hard and tight. "I'll do anything, just fuck me!"
He dropped his head again, his tongue wrapping around my clit before his lips closed around it, so he could suck. I cried out, the slutty sound echoed through the sanctuary. He slipped the tip of a second finger past the tight ring of muscle in my pussy, then slid both of them deep inside. "Oh fuck yes." I hissed, lifting my hips to meet the stroke. He sawed them in and out of my pussy, matching the wriggling of his tongue on my clit. I panted and whimpered. My orgasm broke over me in a crescendo of pounding blood, throbbing cunt, and lewd cries totally at odds with my prim demeanor. Between my legs, fingers from both his hands slipped inside and opened my pussy wide, his tongue lapped wildly at my cumming pussy.
Eventually my orgasm subsided, leaving a luxurious lassitude behind. I combed my fingers gently through his hair, enjoying the soft kisses he was pressing to my thighs and sex. He looked up, his face glistening wet in the light, wet from me. I smiled at him.
"My office," he said huskily. "I want to make you do that again."
I had never been so aware of my state of nakedness before, walking down the hallways with my breasts bared. He walked beside me, watching the sway of my breasts as I moved. My nipples hardened, enjoying the attention. He traced the curve of a breast with a finger. "You're so beautiful. I can't wait to fuck you."
I shivered, partly from the mental image of him fucking me, partly from the touch of his finger on my bared chest, partly from the word, fuck. It was dirty enough to hear it in context, but from him, it was downright arousing. What was so hot about sex with him? The fact that it defied several of God's laws or because he was sexier than sin? His finger slipped over the hardened nub of one of my nipples, then dropped to the cold knob of his office door. Forbidden, he was a forbidden man, a man of the cloth who wasn't my husband. I licked my lips and met his eyes before stepping into his office. His answering smile was as heavily laden with naked sexual hunger as my dripping pussy was.
