Pastor Paul had taken up the tenure in a small, rural town, in what was meant to be a fresh start, a stepping back, you could say, from past indiscretions.
But this resolution had fallen on stony ground, by the wayside, as his predilection for devout Christian girls had only been lying dormant. Almost immediately his sensual fires were again stoked.
The fragrant Rebecca Fox, though he did not know her name at the time, had lit the flame. She had stopped at the door as her mother chatted to an elderly parishioner. A whiff of her perfume went straight to his groin. The buttoned-up blouse, the modest knee length skirt, could not disguise her curves.
He watched her as she slid gracefully into a pew, carefully holding her skirt in place. Long auburn hair, immaculate skin, minimum make up. It was all he could do to try and not stare.
When he discovered at a meeting with the elders that she was the Bible Class teacher, his heart skipped a beat.
There was an opportunity to see her every Wednesday evening, and at each meeting his desire for her increased.
Sometimes she blushed when she caught his eye. She was constantly in his thoughts.
He fantasized about rubbing himself off against her but realized he wanted to do more, much more.
Pastor Paul was a dark horse.
A devout believer, a good Christian, but with another side to him, a fetish for frotting against fully clothed Christian matrons and then progressing to the same with devout Christian girls.
Needless to say, opportunities had been limited but it was a compelling obsession.
He had been a late developer. His first ejaculation had come from humping into his pillow staring at a scantily clad girl's photo in a magazine.
Cumming in this way and not by hand had left a lasting impression on him. He had almost passed out that first wonderful time, felt guilty afterwards, ashamed, but he couldn't help himself doing it again and again.
Even when he had moved to manhood, those beginnings of his sexual awakening never left him.
He still had vivid memories of being nineteen lying on top of his fully clothed, mature Auntie Elizabeth with her skirt up round her waist.
She had made him pull down his jeans and underwear leaving him half naked; his swollen bare penis driving against the rough textured nylon waistband of her pantyhose.
The pleasure pain of his raw helmet grinding against the nylon had made him moan as she urged him on, spanking and clawing at his tight bare buttocks.
'You naughty boy Paul, God will punish you,' she hissed as he writhed and ejaculated over her.
He saw no contradiction between these two overwhelming influences in his life, his faith and his fetish. He prayed and masturbated in equal measure after Bible Class and Church. First, he prayed, giving thanks for his blessings and then he masturbated.
His mind turned to the church going girls, in dresses, blouses, skirts, skirts, tight sweaters, imagining their underpinnings as he edged his cock.
The more he envisaged their young, modestly covered up bodies, the more engorged his cock became, till he exploded, shooting his hot cum into the air as he gasped and writhed on the bed.
It had been noted with approval by the church elders that Doctor Paul was taking his new duties seriously, not only caring for the older members of the congregation who came faithfully to church every Sunday, but taking an interest in the future stalwarts of the church, the Bible Class group.
Fate had taken a hand here. The very thing the church Elders approved of, his time spent in Bible Class was guiding him deeper into a morass of perversion and lust centred on Rebecca Fox.
At one Sunday Service those smooth thighs he had just seen a hint of under her just above the knee dress, filled him with desire. He lusted to see up her dress, imagining tight, white panties concealing her delicious little virgin pussy.
He was aware that such thoughts would be shocking and disgusting to all of the parishioners and must be keep from them at all costs.
In Bible Class it was not Rebecca earnestly trying to interperate a difficult passage of the Bible for the edification of her fellow students that Paul concentrated on.
His mind was busy contemplating the curves of her body, her tight hidden breasts, and bottom, her long, beautiful, auburn hair.
He longed for all to be revealed. Was her muff trimmed? Was there a hint of pussy hair escaping from the vee of her underwear? He imagined making her spread her buttocks to show him her tight little pucker. The less he could see of her body the more he desired her.
He thought back to his last posting and his indiscrete encounter with Devon Elliot.
That had been a sea change, a turning point, in his behaviour, despite all of his promises to himself.
Do not shit in your own nest.
Devon was an earnest rather plump girl (already married to the Church one might say) but with two prize assets, her huge breasts which young church going men fantasized over.
One evening after choir practice, when she was bent over putting the last of the hymn books away, he ogled her heavy bottom and could not resist sliding a hand across her left buttock and squeezing it.
She jumped and gasped 'Pastor Paul', as his fingers moved across and explored the further buttock.
