I rang the doorbell to Father Roberts' house at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and I could already feel my heart beating in my chest. I was nervous and excited at the same time and wondered what the next few hours would bring.
Finding my way to the vicar's house had been easy. It was down a fairly secluded lane, and I had hardly encountered any traffic on the way there. The house itself was quite old and quite large; I imagined there were many rooms inside, as I stood on the doorstep, waiting for him to answer.
Suddenly I heard movement, the sound of footsteps, which grew louder. Then the door opened and there stood the imposing figure of Father Roberts. He grinned broadly at me.
"Ah, Jake, so glad you could make it. I've been looking forward to seeing you today."
"Hello Father Roberts." I blushed under his strong gaze.
"Call me Mike," he said reassuringly.
I relaxed a little. The last time we had met, it had been 'Father Roberts'. Indeed I had cried the title out loud during our encounter. But 'Mike' was more intimate, more personal.
"I'm glad you came," he said again. "Please, come inside."
I stepped through into the hallway and closed the door behind me. There was a slightly musky smell in the air, that of an old house. I gathered that the house came with the job for Father Mike Roberts.
"This way."
He turned and led me through to the living room. It was comfortably turned out, with sofas and chairs, some unusual pictures hanging on the walls, but nothing untoward. I was still nervous and thinking a little of my wife back at home. She knew nothing of this, nor of my encounter with Mike in the church vestry a few days earlier. I still had mixed feelings about the whole experience, but something deep inside had persuaded me to make the short journey to the vicar's house.
"Have a seat. Can I make you a drink."
I sat down on the large black leather sofa which lay along one side of the room. I wasn't thirsty.
"No thanks."
My heart was still beating fast. I had come at Mike's invitation. He had told me that his wife was out during the afternoons, and he would have finished the work he had had to do that day. The large house would be empty except for me and him, and would be so for a few hours apparently.
"So Jake, I can see that you're a little nervous here. Let me help you out."
Mike sat at an angle facing me, at the other end of the sofa, leaving a little space between us. Reaching across, he put his large black hand on my knee, and slowly stroked it up my thigh towards my groin.
I had to admit that as well as the nervousness that was almost freezing me to the spot, I was tingling with excitement. Mike stroked my leg up and down slowly, while fixing me with an intense gaze and a smile, which was turning from friendly to a little lusty. His hand on my leg felt good.
I opened my mouth a little and rested my tongue on my upper lip. Between my legs, my cock was stirring in response to Mike's touch. I saw him inch a little closer to me on the sofa, while he continued stroking my leg. Then I felt his hand brush my crotch, which was already throbbing in time with my thumping heartbeat. I saw Mike's own tongue escape his mouth and he licked his lips, then emitted a low, gutteral moan.
"I can see you're enjoying this Jake," he said. With that he placed his hand on my crotch and began rubbing my now semi-hard member through my jeans. My cock rapidly stiffened and was, within moments, begging for release. But then Mike removed his hand.
"It's time for you to taste me again," he said, rising to his feet and unbuttoning his fly. Kicking off his shoes, he slowly slid his own jeans to the floor. My heart was thumping again. Although I had seen him in his naked glory before, I was now yearning to do so again. I could see the developing bulge in his underwear, even as I admired his long muscular legs. He swiped a hand across his own crotch, then did so again, this time pausing to rub himself through the material. I could feel the prickles on my skin as I began to sweat a little, and I licked my lips as I stared at his thighs and crotch.
Mike undid the shirt he was wearing and tossed it aside, leaving him topless. For a moment I admired his strong-looking chest and fairly smooth black skin. In places he was a little hairy but mostly not, and I wanted to touch him. He was standing so close, and yet I was still almost frozen on the sofa.
Mike then slid his underwear down, revealing himself to me. His cock sprang free, semi-hard with the bulbous, mushroom-shaped head pushing out from his foreskin. I could see a drop of shiny liquid at the tip emerging from the slit. It was big, black and beautiful, maybe eight inches long, and thick, and I could see the veigns standing out along its length.
"I want to see you naked, Jake," he said. "Take off your clothes."
I had almost forgotten. Here he was, standing magnificently before me, and I still had all my clothes on.
Mike backed away from me for a few moments, tantalisingly out of reach. By this stage, I realised that I wanted him, that I needed to touch him and feel him, and to taste his thick shaft as it slid across my lips. Quickly, I removed my shoes, jeans, shirt and underwear, less subtly than he had done, but I didn't care about that now. In less than a minute, I was naked too, my white skin a beautiful contrast to his ebony. I was in good shape, slim and toned, no body-builder, but I knew and enjoyed my own body.
Mike stood a little away from me still, slowly pumping himself to full hardness. I could see the whole of his cockhead now, and it glistened with pre-cum. The veigns down the length of his shaft stood out even more now. I wanted to suck his cock.
Without saying any more, I fell to my knees in front of him, and began to suck his bulbous cockhead. It stretched my mouth slightly given its size, but I didn't mind that. I enjoyed its size and girth. I tasted the syrupy liquid for which I had been yearning. Then I pushed my head forward and slid him further into my mouth. I loved the way the warm fleshyness of it felt against my lips and the inside of my mouth. Tongueing and sucking a little harder, I reached around and grabbed his asscheecks with both hands, pulling him towards me and taking him deeper, without gagging. His firm ass felt wonderful to the touch and I stroked his cheeks, then I brought one hand around to his balls, giving them a rub and a gentle squeeze, before grabbing the base of his shaft and then beginning to move my head back and forth, sliding along his length as far as I could go, and then withdrawing, in a steady rhythm.
