Blessings of the Flesh

Gene Bardwell stared at the beauty sitting in the front row of pews as he settled in behind the pulpit and prepared for that Sunday's sermon. As he did, he could feel the stirring in his groin that he always felt when he thought about her.

And he was especially excited on this day because of the material he'd chosen for his sermon that day. He smiled sardonically as he thought about how the blue-haired old ladies and the blue-nosed old men of the church were going to react to this Sunday's topic.

Well, to heck with them. There was only one person he wanted to reach with his message, and she was sitting in the front row of pews smiling back at him. Gene reluctantly turned his gaze away from the woman, opened his Bible and faced the congregation.

"We're going to talk today about love," he began in his pleasant tone of voice. "Physical love, emotional love, spiritual love. We're going to talk today about the love between a man and a woman, the love between friends and the love God has for His church. Turn in your Bibles, please, in the Old Testament to the Song of Solomon, or, as it is called in some translations, the Song of Songs, Chapter 4."

Brenda Bardwell heard the soft, almost-inaudible gasp that swept through the sanctuary as the assembly absorbed the impact of Gene's request, and she felt herself getting wet between her legs as she gazed up from the front row of pews at her beloved husband.

She had always wanted Gene to give a sermon on the Song of Solomon, which, to her, was the single most sensual, quasi-erotic passage in all of Scripture. The beauty and passion of the passage, the seductive lyricism of the way Solomon addressed his beloved never failed to stir her baser instincts.

It was wickedly sinful, some of the thoughts that always ran through her mind when she contemplated the Song of Solomon, but she never felt the least bit remorseful over them.

That's because the thoughts always centered around her Gene, and she believed that as long as her husband was the focus of her lust, she could think anything she wanted about him, any time she wanted.

Gene and Brenda had met seven years earlier, when he was still in seminary and she was a member of the choir at the church where he was interning as an assistant pastor.

It had been love at first sight, and while they had both been virgins, and committed Christians, they quickly figured out that unless they planned on committing a sin, they'd better get married. So, just six months after their first date, they were married, and their life had been a case of unbridled passion ever since.

Virgins they may have been, but that didn't stop them from developing a healthy – some might say sinful – sex life. Neither one cared, though, what any one else might think of them. They believed that there should be no limits to the expression of love – and lust – between married couples.

And they made a handsome married couple indeed. Gene was a little taller than average, right under six feet tall, with the same trim physique he'd had when he'd played football in high school. Brenda was simply gorgeous, tall and slender, with sparkling brown eyes, short brown hair and a smile that dazzled everyone who saw her.

So far, they had had no children, but as they approached their mid-30s, they were thinking more and more about starting a family. And that had brought them to some hard decisions about where they were in life.

Gene had been the pastor of this smallish Baptist church for just over five years, and he was getting restless. He had worked hard to build up the membership, to make the church a friendlier place for the youth, tried to modernize the music and the service, and in some areas, he'd succeeded, but in others he'd failed.

The youth loved him, but the old-timers had grown distant, unmoved by his often-passionate sermons, and the music minister was indifferent. And membership had stagnated at around 200 for Sunday services, after growing impressively in the early years of his tenure.

Gene was beginning to get a little burned-out on being the CEO of a church, even one of the small size of his church, and he could sense that God was calling him to something else, something different.

And he knew that if he and Brenda were going to start a family, that they would need far more income than they were currently bringing in. Gene had expressed his concerns to his family, and he'd had a standing offer to join the family's prosperous business.

As a result, he'd started moving away from the cookie-cutter sermons that people had been used to, and was taking on more personally challenging issues. Since this was Valentine's Day weekend, he'd decided to throw caution to the wind and preach on the Song of Solomon.

Once again, he looked over at his wife, and they shared a secret smile. God, she looked good today, Gene mused.

Her radiant smile illuminated her face, and the knee-length dress she wore showed just enough of her modest cleavage to be enticing without scandalizing the church. Moreover, he looked down at her feet and felt a thrill run through him as she saw the sexy tight black boots that covered her calves. After all this time, he still had trouble believing that she was his, and only his.

Once again, he gazed out at the congregation, took a deep breath and forged ahead.

He began by talking about love, how important it was to the human psyche, he talked about the life of St. Valentine, the patron saint of love, about the holiday itself, then moved the sermon toward King Solomon, who was one of his favorite characters in the Bible.

Gene had always admired the wisdom and intelligence that Solomon had exhibited, and how he had successfully balanced the carnal with the spiritual.

He talked about how the King of Israel had become infatuated with a princess of some distant country, and how he, or perhaps his chief scribe, had composed a poem expressing his love for her. Gene took a deep breath before he plunged into the text.

"Reading in the Word of God, we find Solomon pouring out his love for his bride, which we see is an allegory for the love God has for the church, for the nation of Israel," Gene said.

"How beautiful you are, my darling, oh, how beautiful," Gene read, and he gazed lovingly at Brenda as he did. "Your eyes behind your veil are doves, you lips like a scarlet ribbon, your mouth is lovely. Your neck is like the Tower of David, built with elegance; your two breasts are like twin fawns, like twin fawns of a gazelle. How beautiful you are, my darling, there is no flaw in you."

As he gave the congregation his interpretation of that passage, Brenda felt the flood of hot moisture between her legs as her arousal climbed to a fever pitch. She wanted him, wanted him badly, right that moment.

And then came the sexual connotations, the subtle eroticism that always made the Song so controversial in some churchly circles.

"You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride," Gene resumed reading. "You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace. How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much more pleasing is your love than wine and the fragrance of your perfume than any spice! Your lips drop sweetness like the honeycomb, my bride. Milk and honey are under your tongue. You are like a garden locked up, my sister, my bride; you are a spring, a sealed fountain. You are a garden fountain, a well of flowing water."

Brenda almost laughed out loud at that passage. She was indeed a garden fountain of flowing water, as the flow of her arousal soaked her black satin panties, and the fragrance of her perfume, the aroma of her intense lust, would have been plain if anyone had been sitting close to her.

And, again, the image of milk and honey, of her man's semen, under her tongue gave her a wicked jolt of passion. Unlike most Baptists, Brenda and Gene had no qualms whatsoever about engaging in oral sex. She loved to take his fat cock in her mouth and please him, and he loved to bury his face in her juicy pie.

That wasn't all, either. Brenda had discovered early in their marriage that she enjoyed having her ass played with, and they had engaged in anal sex on a number of occasions. They had talked about it at length before they did it the first time, and decided that since they were married, it wasn't a sin, but merely one more way of expressing their love and lust for each other.

Suddenly, Brenda had a truly wicked thought. She and Gene had had sex in his office many times, as well as several other rooms in the church, but never in the sanctuary. She knew she couldn't wait to ravage her husband, after hearing the utter sensuality of his biblical reading. So why not ravage him here, right after church, after everyone had departed?

Just the thought alone almost gave her an orgasm, and she had to bite her lower lip to keep her passion from finding its voice.

Gene moved the sermon toward the crux of his message, talking about the old Greek idea of the three levels of love: eros, physical love; phileo, brotherly love; and agape, the love of God for mankind, which led him to the offering of Christ for the remission of sin.

It was the more conventional reading of the passage, but he had one more curveball to throw at his audience, one more message for his lovely wife.

"Look in Chapter 5, as we close," Gene said. "I slept, but my heart was awake. Listen! My lover is knocking. Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one. My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night."

This time it was Gene who had to suppress his arousal, and he was glad he was standing behind the pulpit so that the congregation couldn't see his raging hard-on.

He almost chuckled as he realized that his head, the head of his cock, was indeed drenched in dew, the dew from his pre-cum that was leaking from the tip of his dick. And his hair was damp from the heat. It was unseasonably warm for mid-February, but not nearly enough for the air conditioning to be turned on, so it was just a trifle warm in the sanctuary that morning

But he was a professional, and with effort, he willed himself to come to his conclusion, to the invitation and the close of the service.

Gene could always gauge the reaction of the congregation to his sermons by the way they greeted him on their way out the front door of the church, which opened into the back of the sanctuary.

And as they filed out that morning, Gene realized with crushing certainty that he had lost them, once and for all. Many of the members were stiff in their greetings, and some walked right by him without even acknowledging him.

Only a few of the younger members greeted him as they always did, many of them thanking him for having the courage to preach on such a hot-button topic.

Among them was one college-age blonde who had always been the fount of temptation for him. This girl was quite well-built and very flirty, and Gene had always suspected that she'd jump his bones in a heartbeat if he ever gave her the slightest opening.

"Oh, Brother Gene, that was a beautiful sermon," she said in a husky voice dripping with lust, and her tongue slid over her upper lip just enough to give Gene the clear message of invitation.

"Thank you," Gene said, as he finally extracted his hand from the girl's warm grasp. "Glad you enjoyed it."

He smiled inwardly as the girl sashayed out the door, swishing her hips suggestively as she walked to her car. He'd have to pray for forgiveness to atone for the thoughts he was having at that moment, but he didn't care. He knew he'd never follow through on his idle desires for the girl, not when he had the sexiest woman in town for a wife.

Finally, the congregation finished filing out, the deacon in charge of counting the money from the offering handed him the bank bag filled with the cash and checks and headed out the door, leaving Gene to lock the door behind him. Gene took the bag and opened the safe that sat in the floor of the small counting room that sat off to the side of the entry to the church.

As he did, he was trembling with anticipation of getting Brenda home so he could give her a hard, fast tumble on the bed. Having secured the money in the safe, he turned from the foyer and entered the sanctuary to be greeted by a stunning sight.

There was Brenda, sitting on the chair where the minister of music usually sat during the service – when he was there, which he had not been that Sunday. She had her left leg draped across the arm of the chair with her skirt bunched up around her waist, her panties pulled to one side and two fingers strumming briskly in and around her fur-lined pussy.

Gene's cock jumped in his pants as he stared at his wife as she slowly, but purposefully stroked her pussy.

"See something you like?" she purred.

"Uh, well, yeah," Gene stammered as he slowly made his way to the front of the sanctuary. "But ... here?"

"Why not?" Brenda said. "We've screwed in every other room in this church, we might as well do it here. I can't wait; I don't want to wait. I want you now."

"What if...?" Gene began, but Brenda shushed him.

"You've locked the door back there, right?" she answered. "And I've locked the door over by the choir loft. So who's going to disturb us? The only other people who have keys are too busy bellying up to the buffet at Shoney's by now to give us any trouble. Come on, Gene, baby, nobody's going to disturb us, and I need you now. You know how I get when I think about the Song of Solomon. I mean, where else in the Bible can you read about sex in such an overt way?"

Gene's eyes were glued to Brenda's angry red gash, which was well framed with a thick carpet of hair, and the two fingers that were steadily working between her juicy labia. He was standing on the stage at the front of the room, glued to a spot right in front of where Brenda was seated.

"Want a taste?" she said, offering Gene her fingers to lick and suck.

Whatever self-control Gene had left deserted him at that moment. He grabbed Brenda by the wrist and licked her fingers clean, then leaned in to kiss his wife, deeply and ravenously.

"My sister, my bride," he whispered as he broke free of Brenda's embrace and roamed over her body with his hands.

Brenda looked up at him with a sizzling look of pure lust. It didn't matter now if anyone did walk in on them; they were both so far gone, they had to consummate their lust.

Gene knelt on the floor and his fingers found the buttons that ran down the middle of Brenda's dress to the waist. He quickly opened it up and slid his hands in to cup his wife's breasts, feeling the warmth of her arousal, and the stiffness of her nipples.

Again they kissed, their passion mounting. Gene's cock was a raging beast, but he had just enough self-control to hold himself back and take things at a little more measured pace.

Breaking free again, he flipped Brenda's tits from the cups of her bra, and just stared in rapture at the swelling of her chest. Brenda wasn't blessed with large breasts, by any means, but they were plenty nice, a healthy 34B, with stiff brown nipples that seemed to beckon him.

And he answered the call, bending down to kiss, lick and suck both of her hard nubs, as Brenda moaned in approval. Her nipples gleamed under the spotlight where Gene had been nursing her nipples, and she idly wondered if she would soon have another, much smaller set of lips on her breasts.

Brenda believed she was fertile, and she had the thought that it would be truly poetic if they were able to conceive their first child right here, right now, in the sanctuary, in a gloriously sinful act of lust that would bring a fitting coda to their ministry at this church.

Then her attention was brought sharply back to the present, as Gene pulled open her legs and dove face-first into her swampy pussy.

"Ahhh! Ahhh! G-G-G-G-GOD!" she wailed as a huge orgasm began to pick up steam with all the power of a runaway train from the expert work of Gene's mouth. His tongue slathered over her pussy, then he titillated her clit with his lips and tongue, while he plowed two fingers deep into her cunt.

"Oh bayyyy-beeee!" Brenda yelled as her long-overdue climax reached a head. Her hands gripped the back of her husband's head as he worked his magic with his mouth and fingers.

Suddenly, her whole body went rigid, and she held her breath for just a second, then she went into the convulsions of a massive orgasm. She shuddered and gasped as the climax worked its way like liquid fire through her body.

Brenda was still twitching from her climax when she slid off the chair onto her knees in front of Gene, who had stood back up. Her eyes sparkled as she saw the huge bulge in his slacks. Like magnets, her hands reached up to caress his throbbing cock.

Quickly, she got his fly open and fished the fat dong out from his boxer shorts, panting in her desire. She smiled seductively as she saw the shine on the head where his pre-cum had leaked out the tip. Her tongue flicked out, swirled across the head and slid under his crown.

Gene just stood there, his eyes closed and his head thrown back in rapture as Brenda slid the fat head of his dick past her lips and into her mouth. She worked a little over half of him in her mouth, sucking back and forth as her tongue circled his shaft.

Brenda kept one hand firmly rooted around the base of her husband's cock and the other was busy under her skirt, dipping into her juicy gash and rolling around her swollen clit. She couldn't remember when she had been this horny; she was on fire with lust, and as Gene's motions became more pronounced, she knew it was time for the final act of this mini-drama that some might have called sinful.

She pulled her mouth away from Gene's cock, and crawled across the stage a few feet until she was behind the pulpit. She gripped the podium with both hands, leaned forward and beckoned for Gene to get behind her and give her what she wanted, what she needed.

Gene took just enough time to remove his jacket, unbuckle his belt and unfasten his pants. He slid his slacks down past his knees as he knelt behind his wife, one hand slowly jacking his cock to keep it at maximum strength. With his other hand, he flipped Brenda's skirt up past her waist and slid her panties down to just above her knees.

For just a second, he stared at the gaping pussy that was open to his gaze, its gleaming, steaming wetness a siren call. Brenda noticed his hesitation and turned back to look at her husband, and begged him to do it.

"Oh, Gene, baby, do it, do it now," she panted. "Love me, please. Put your beautiful meat in me and love me."

That broke Gene's reverie, and with a grunt he fit the head of his cock to Brenda's pink pussy and pushed hard. They both gasped loudly as Gene's cock scudded up her flooded canal in one powerful thrust, and it was no time before he was methodically fucking his wife.

Gene gripped Brenda's butt cheeks as he happily did something he'd secretly fantasized about doing ever since he was a teenager, and that was to make love to a woman on stage, pretending he was performing for an audience.

During his college days, before he fully committed himself to the ministry, he'd gone through a period of intense curiosity about women, and had even gone so far as to secretly visit strip clubs to satisfy that curiosity.

He'd sit in a quiet booth, as inconspicuously as possible, suck down one soda after another, and watch the pretty women strip and dance naked on the stage. Then he would return to his dorm room and masturbate, dreaming of being on stage with them and fucking them as the crowd cheered him on.

Although he subsequently felt a little ashamed of himself for patronizing such establishments and for his lurid fantasies, he wasn't terribly remorseful about it, either. He believed that sex was a wonderful gift from God, and the free expression of it wasn't a sin under the right circumstances.