Our Love.
Chapter One- Sister Majel.
Michael had always gotten his way. He could sit back and observe people and know exactly what words to use. Since he was a kid, he knew what others wanted and used it to his advantage.
Now Sister Majel knelt before him, not her real name but her new baptismal name. She had been one of his first converts and believed in him and the Church of Our Love. She had given his community coffers over $10 million as she left her family and her old life.
"Sister Majel, I need you to show Congressman Reynolds, what 'Our Love' means. I need you to take him to the hotel, you know the room?" Michael smiled warmly,
"Oh yes Brother Michael, I know the room," Majel smiled back at this man like the father she lost but also more than a father. She knelt in a simple black dress; her shaggy bob was golden blonde. Her make-up was perfect, and Michael knew that she wore no underwear. Her breasts were pert, firm and her nipples were red currant. Beneath the flimsy material, her pussy would be ripe and delicious. Her pubic hair would be trimmed to perfection. Michael has asked Sister Lillian, his secretary to sculpt the perfect heart shape for Majel as he knew the congressman would love that as she would slowly, seductively open her toned, athletic legs for him, and offer herself to lick her perfect young pussy.
Sister Majel was only 22.
She was perfect. Perfect for the tasks that he had for her. Sister Majel and her choir of his 'angels' were willing to show any man or woman what love was.
"The congressman needs to learn the meaning of 'Our Love', "He smiled as she bowed her head,
"Bless me, Brother Michael," Majel asked, and Michael placed his hand on her head.
"Bless this child as she goes to spread your love," Michael intoned. Majel then stood up and looked down at the seated Michael and then she raised the hem of her dress and showed him her cunt,
"Bless my cunt, Michael," She smiled, and Michael opened his palm and slid his hand between her legs, cupping her sex.
But, then this wasn't the first time he had touched her like this.
This wasn't the first time he kissed her.
This wasn't the first time he had fucked her.
Michael had taught her how to fuck men and now she would go to the hotel, meet the congressman and fuck him, whilst the adjoining room, would be manned by Brother Simon and Brother Mark, two of his core members of the community. They would film every sordid, dirty detail and have the footage ready for Michael to use as leverage on the hapless, horny congressman when the need arose.
"Go my child and show the congressman our love. Our true and abiding love." Majel smiled and then allowed his hand to pull away. She left his office and got into the waiting car to whisk her away to her liaison.
Michael sat back, noting his erection, as she had done. He thought back to one of his favourite sexual encounters when he but 17 years old. He had seen Joanne Hubbard, the elementary teacher who had taught his late sister. Michael had volunteered for a community support project and had insinuated himself into her class of 9-year-olds. She was twice his age, blonde with a slender figure., and well-shaped breasts, that tantalized him when she glimpsed her bust through the crisp white blouse she wore habitually. Michael always had an affinity for blondes. It had only taken a couple of weeks, and Michael knew who the vegetarian, white wine drinker was and wanted.
His gift was to see what others couldn't.
He saw how she was unsure of herself, lacking in sexual confidence and possibly unsure of where she desired men or women. He had discovered she had been dumped by an indifferent boyfriend some months before and had remained alone. Michael saw that she still had strong sexual urges, and had managed to push them back to the back of her mind and focus on her teaching job. Michael imagined that in the dead of night, her fingers would seek out her hairy cunt and play with her vaginal lips, and stuff two fingers into her aching pussy and relieved the tumult of her arousal.
Michael had offered to help her with her books at the end of one Friday, loading them into her car,
"If you want, I'll come with you and help you unload. I can get the bus back home," Michael offered, smiling.
Joanne had taken to the handsome young man, his own blonde hair cut short, and his tight t-shirt stretched over his Greco-Roman wrestling college body. She drove to her little house on the outskirts of the town, and once Michael had helped her with the boxes. She kindly offered him a lemonade and he accepted the cool glass. Sitting on her porch, Michael did what he did best, listen.
With only a little encouragement, Joanne began to talk. Michael scrutinized her as she spoke,
"I think I had the most awful luck with relationships," She sighed, "Maybe I'm not cut out to find the right one," She lay back, and adjusted the damp collar of her school blouse,
"Nonsense! "Michael sounded aghast, "You deserve to be happy, and If I were older... I would whisk you off your feet!" Michael made a deliberately geeky whisking sound with his lips. Joanna looked at him, with a soft look.