Chapter 22
A couple of weeks later, the Pastor's wife, Michelle Donaldson, slipped out of the Sunday service early, as she was wont to do, and went into the apartment that was reserved for the use of her husband and herself, which was located only a minute's walk away from the sanctuary. She liked to take the opportunity to enjoy some quiet time on her own there before all the socializing she would have to do once the service was over. She had been in the apartment for no longer than two or three minutes when there was a knock at the door - a loud, clear, confident knock.
Wondering who it might be, when she opened the door she was surprised to be looking into a face that was familiar to her, but to which she would have been hard pressed to put a name. She knew it was one of the Nigerian postgraduate students, but she had no clue as to why he should be knocking on her door. Had he made an appointment with the Pastor, she wondered?
"I'm sorry, but if you want to see Pastor Donaldson, you'll need to come back later," she said with civility, but little warmth.
"I haven't come to see him," Olusola replied, walking past her into the narrow hallway. "You are the one I have come to see."
"I see," said Michelle, putting on her best Pastor's wife voice. "Then if you will tell me how I can help you, I shall do my best to minister to you."
"It is not how you can help me," replied the lithe African. "It is how I can help you."
Without a further word, he had made his move panther-like, his hands shooting up her skirt and pulling her panties down to her knees. Before she had had time to gather herself, he had pushed her against the wall next to the old-fashioned wall phone, so close that she could have tried to use it had she so wished.
"I know what you need," he said. "And I have been chosen to be the channel by which your needs are met."
Before she could answer him, he had whipped out the longest, thickest cock she had ever seen. Against her better judgement, she murmured in appreciation. She had not been with a man for more years than she could remember. Women provided her with everything she needed; or so she had thought. Now that she was confronted by this strong, sensual man brandishing his mighty weapon she wasn't so sure.
"Look," she said, feebly, "people may come over unexpectedly. I think you'd better go."
Olusola's response was exactly the one Michelle had secretly been hoping he would make: to slide the bolt on the front door.
"Take me to your bedroom," the black man said, in a voice that brooked no contradiction.
Michelle decided she must stand up to this man she hardly knew, however virile he might be.
"I repeat that I must ask you to leave. I do not take kindly to being -" she struggled to find the right word, "to being treated in this manner in the sanctity of my own home."
She had meant to be far firmer, far more emphatic, but an imprudent glance at his massive weapon had enfeebled her.
"I must ask you once again to leave. This very minute!"
"This very minute," he retorted, his voice dripping with irony, "what you want, nay, what you crave, is to be impaled by my spear."
The mention of the very word which she had been internalizing disarmed the normally iron-willed woman still further.
"You have eaten pussy for too long," the Nigerian said impassively. "It is time for you to exchange unnatural practises for natural ones."
This gross distortion of Biblical injunctions ought to have had the effect of galvanizing the resolve of the Pastor' wife. Instead, it brought her to an even greater state of arousal, arousal which was morphing into pure, unadulterated lust. She made one final appeal to his better nature - an appeal which was crippled by the surge of emotion that was flooding her body.
"I must ask you to set aside your carnal desires, and to show due esteem to the position I hold in the church."
As she spoke, she rose to her full height to emphasize her point, but this only had the effect of causing her panties to slide the full length of her legs, pooling helplessly on her black heels. Heels that she had worn to attract student members of the congregation, yes, but not this one. She had had her eye on the Chinese girls for a long time.
Taking the opportunity afforded by the nakedness of her hidden pudenda, Olusola reached once more under her skirt and, looking the older woman directly in the eyes, penetrated her with his slender middle finger.
"No!" breathed the Pastor's wife, her resistance all but broken down.
"The bedroom!" the black man repeated, adding a second finger to her pussy, which was now wet with her arousal.
"I will give you a blowjob, and then you must leave," she said. "We have no time."
Silently, she led him into the bedroom - the place where she had planned to bring Meiling or Sally - or both. Standing beside the bed, the African motioned for her to kneel before him and pay homage to his cock, which was jutting out with a temerity bordering on arrogance. Overwhelmed by a libido which she had thought she would never feel again for a man, she took it greedily in her mouth, her fingers grabbing his balls so violently that he uttered an oath in his native tongue.
While she was sucking him with an ardency that told him all he needed to know about her state of arousal, he slowly, deliberately unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it on in the sure knowledge that she would divest him of it when the time was ripe.
"Make me climax and swallow my seed!" he commanded her.
Wrapping her mouth around his throbbing member, she went deeper with every movement, fingering his balls with a gentleness that testified to her utter submission to his will. Olusola could not believe how easily his goal had been achieved. But his victory had come at a cost; he was losing the control he had established over the woman. His desire to exercise dominion over the woman was slipping away like the grains of sand slipping through an egg-timer.
Feeling the orgasm welling up from deep within, he surrendered to it, and cried out as his balls unloaded their cargo into her mouth. Michelle took advantage of his weakened state to pull his pants down to his ankles, even as she took care to swallow every last drop of his salty cum. Realizing that attack was the best form of defence, he told Michelle to get up and strip him naked. Once she had removed his garments, she put her hands on his face and kissed him fiercely - all thoughts of the Chinese cuties now scattered to the four winds. Her only desire now was to be pulverized by his big, black cock.
As they kissed (manically, almost violently), the Nigerian's manhood started on its long journey to the only state that Michelle wished to see it possess. Instinctively, she knew that the sight of her full breasts would expedite that journey, so she took her hands from his head and let her fingers race down the buttons of her blouse, throwing it on the floor before unclasping her bra and jettisoning that too.
Breaking the kiss, Olusola started sucking on her nipples with no pretence at finesse, feeling them swell extravagantly under his wet tongue. Michelle attempted to take her skirt off, but the African stopped her, desiring to plunge his weapon inside her under cover of that matronly garment. Rubbing his tool ferociously to make it resume its full measure, he placed her on the bed so that he could enter her from a standing position.
Raising her skirt just enough so he could see her dripping desire, he had a last-minute change of mind, and dove forward to eat her out.
"Oh my god!" she groaned, as she felt his long tongue on her folds. "Make me come!"
