" 'Oh, sure. Okay then.'
" 'Fine. Let's go.' She looked at her watch. 'We've only got a half an hour, but it usually only takes about ten minutes to get him off.' She paused as she rose from behind her desk and said, 'Oh and one more thing. He likes to be called Bishop. He's not a Bishop, but he always wanted to be one. So call him that.'
"She opened the door to the Pastor's office and I followed her in. The office was a large one, finished in rich hardwoods with ornate furniture including a desk the size of the one in the Oval Office in the White House. The décor reflected years of misspent contributions, I thought. The Pastor was sitting behind the desk reading a book which he quickly closed, so the plainly bound back was face up.
" 'Let me introduce you," Shawna said. "Bishop, this is Louise Smithson. Louise this is Bishop Andrews.' He looked up from his desk, with a less than pleased look betraying annoyance at Shawna's interruption. 'Mrs. Smithson is the young woman I was telling you about yesterday.'
"The Bishop's appearance changed instantly. He put on his most charming smile and rose from behind his desk. He was a tall lanky drink of water, looking to be in his late 50s with neatly trimmed salt and pepper grey hair. Dressed, as pastors normally would in black with a white ecclesiastical collar. As he stepped around the desk to greet me, I couldn't help but notice a bulge in his trousers. Apparently, whatever he had been reading wasn't the Book of Revelation.
"I smiled as he stepped up to me and took my hand in both of his. It was more of caress than a handshake. He was silent for a moment as his eyes scanned my body from top to bottom. The Bishop was obviously a lecher. 'Please call me Louise,' I said.
" 'Oh yes, and please call me Samuel,' he said. We try not to be too formal around here, don't we Shawna.
" 'Certainly Bishop,' she said.
"I looked over at Shawna who was now sitting casually on a side bar, her dress at mid-thigh and her long legs crossed. Her response to my look was limited to a smile as she uncrossed her legs letting them spread. It wasn't obscene or lewd, but it certainly wasn't lady-like either.
" 'Shawana has told me so much about you,' the Bishop said, as he continued to caress my hand. " 'And I must say,' he continued, 'you're even more striking than Shawna led me to believe.' He was all but salivating now as his eyes flitted between my face and my tits.
"I looked over at Shawna again. She was leaning back on her hands, her ample chest pushed out with an amused look on her face as she watched the Bishop's fumbling attempt at seduction. She tapped her watch to remind we didn't have much time.
"I let my eyes drop to his waist where I saw that the bulge in his pants had continued to grow. Rather than waiting any longer for the Bishop to work up the courage to suggest something obscene, I simply used my free hand to retrieve the hand he was using to caress my palm and place it on one of my breasts. His remaining hand followed immediately to my other tit. With more time I would have encouraged him to open my blouse, release my bra and fondle my bare breasts. But
tempus fugit
, I thought.I dropped my hands to his waist and stroked his growing cock through his trousers, just a couple of times, before I quickly released his belt and trousers. There was something slightly obscene about the sound of the declining zipper. I had never sucked off an important religious leader. But, I thought, fuck it. A dick's a dick. Besides, he wasn't an important religious leader. He just liked to think he was.
"Shawna winked at me, and tapped her watch, again reminding that we didn't have much time. She had pulled her dress up around her hips and was massaging her pussy through her panties as she watched me seeking out the Bishop's cock. I hooked my fingers in his trousers and his boxers and pushed down. They both quickly fell to the floor landing in a pool around his gleaming oxfords. His legs were pale and skinny. I looked away from Shawna and down at the Bishop's dick. It wasn't a huge dick. Nothing like Shawna's musician friends, but it was still a respectable dick and it looked fully engorged. I wrapped a hand around it and begin to stroke it, remaining standing while he continued to fondle my tits. But good as his fondling felt, I was running out of time. It was time to suck some cock, so I sunk to my knees and looked up at him as I stroked his dick with a twisting motion with both hands. 'Suck it,' he said as he looked down at me. I leaned forward and licked the head of his cock. There was a tasty drop of precum on the tip. I started by simply plucking it off with the tip of my tongue. The taste thrilled me. I wanted more. Leaning forward I inhaled his cock, pulling it deep in my mouth while my tongue massaged the sensitive underside.
"His dick was long enough so I still had one hand wrapped around the shaft as I pumped it in and out of my mouth sucking hard each time I pulled back. I made sure that a mixture of his precum and my saliva slid down the shaft to lubricate it for the twisting motion my stroking hand was applying.
"I looked up at the Bishop's face. Men like it when you look at them while you are sucking them off, but the Bishop's head was pitched back and his eyes closed. He was groaning softly as I sucked him. When I looked sideways toward Shawna, I saw that she had shed her panties. Still sitting on the side bar and leaning back against the wall behind it, she was masturbating as she watched me suck off the Bishop.
"I redoubled my efforts speeding up the pace of my sucking and I could tell he was approaching his climax. 'Oh god that's good,' he said. He had his hands on my head now and was fucking my face as he controlled the pace. I like it when men fuck my face. There is something so lewd about that. About then, I heard a soft groan from Shawna as she brought herself to a climax.
"Her climax was followed quickly by the Bishop's. He pulled my face tight against his groin and then I felt him go rigid in my mouth. He fired of several rounds of salty, tasty cum into my mouth which I promptly swallowed down, letting nothing escape from my lips. After he pulled his cock from my mouth I held it in my hand licked the last few drops of cum dribbling from the tip. Good now he would be nice and clean to attend the ladies' Bake Sale Committee meeting.
"The Bishop collapsed back onto the desk he had been leaning on, gasping for breath. Meanwhile Shawna, recovered sufficiently to stand and push her dress back down, spoke up. 'Let's go your Excellency,' she said. 'We have about three minutes before the ladies of the Bake Sale Committee show up here looking for us. He looked mildly panicked and quickly hoisted his underwear and pants back into place. He straightened his shirt and looked carefully down at his trousers to make sure nothing had spilled.
" 'Not to worry Bishop,' I said. 'I got it all.' Then they were out the door headed for their meeting. I figured I would have the place to myself for a while so I pulled up my dress and stripped off my panties. Then I sat in the Bishop's big desk chair and put my feet up on his desk, spreading my legs obscenely, while I read the Victorian pornography that was in the book he had been reading when Shawna and I came into his office. I spent the next fifteen minutes masturbating in the Bishop's office, feeling totally decadent. I came twice before I left, and when I did leave, my clothes tidied up and looking respectable, I left my bright red panties behind, tossing them on top of the pair Shawna had forgotten to put back on before going to their meeting.
"Wow," Melissa said. "Grandma was a naughty girl. I thought I was a little bit loose in college, but I never gave a blow job to a Bishop."
"Neither have I," Lisa responded.
"What about the Rev?" Melissa asked.
Lisa smiled lewdly. "Oh yeah that's true, but he's not a bishop."
"Hmm. A thin distinction Mom. I think you may be more like your mother than you want to admit."
"Ouch that hurts, but. . . There may be some truth it. I was just a late starter."
Melissa laughed. "Shall I go in and check on dinner?"
"Ok but if that stew is hot, just leave it on simmer. I've got one more diary entry I want to read you."
"Okay."
When Melissa returned a few minutes later she reported that the stew would be ready to eat whenever they wanted. Lisa said, "Okay, but let's read this tale of Grandma Louise's debauchery first. It's a good one. It was dated just a few days after her visit to the Bishop.
"Dear Diary,
"Last night started out to be a not very interesting evening. I was at our country club where I had been talked into filling in for a missing wife in a mixed doubles tennis match. So what was wrong you might wonder? I like tennis. I really do. But I like tennis best when I'm playing against people who are a bit better than me. That kind of tennis pushes me to play my best. But that wasn't the case last night. The people I was playing with were at best mediocre and worst of all, they didn't care. Everything they hit was a big soft lob (Well, usually lower than a lob. More like a 'blob.'). And they made no effort to run anything down. When I served up a few serious zingers they all (even my own partner) looked at me like I was rude, and when I fired off a killer forehand service return that was aimed straight at the woman playing net on the other side, they made it clear that wasn't the way they played the game. Of course I did hit her smack dead center in her left boob. That had to hurt. But what the hell? She was just standing there, her racket at her side and her weight back on her heels. What did she expect me to do? There was no better place on the court to aim at for a sure win.
"Of course, what they expected me to do was to hit a nice patty cake service return that would float back to the server so he could hit a nice patty cake return that would float back to me while the two partners at the net stood watching the ball float back and forth. Arrrrgh! What a terrible way to play tennis. But I toughed it out for two long sets. I hit slow soft serves with as much spin as I could put on them and ground strokes that stayed well clear of the lady with the bruised boob, and an occasional drop shot, which didn't seem to offend anyone, because they made no effort to run it down. But I did try to make sure my partner and I won every game. I didn't want to be there all night. Okay, there was one I couldn't win. My partner hit four straight double faults. I was ready to start gnawing on my racket.
"When the match ended I had planned to go straight out to my car and go home, getting myself away from these people as fast as I could. But I just couldn't do that. I needed a drink to try and get over the rage their style had provoked in me. As it turned out it was the other three who left immediately. We said polite thank yous and good nights and then went our separate ways. Mine was directly to the little bar in the tennis lounge that overlooks the indoor courts. It was getting late but the bartender made me a Scotch (a double) and I sat at a little table slowly recovering from my frustration. The worst of it was that when I have to play tennis like that, toned down and with no aggression, not trying to win just hitting pattycake shots back and forth, my game goes totally to hell. I spray shots all over the place and I get more and more frustrated. The only way to deal with it is to put a ton of spin on everything so it stays in the court.
