Cathy Modeno had her hair in a long ponytail; she had been working now for a few hours, and realized that it was starting to get dark - the church had been for the most part deserted for that day, which she was thankful for, for she was wearing a rather tight pullover sweater and a tight skirt that came to just above her knees. She told herself, again, that the jacket she wore made the outfit modest enough, but as she sat in the small office she had taken the jacket off.
The door swung open, and Deacon Craig Daniels stepped into the office. He swung the door shut behind him, and turned and smiled at her. Cathy licked her lips nervously as she realized that Daniels was staring at her breasts, tightly encased in the thin sweater. She shivered as he casually slid his gaze upwards to meet hers, and then he was stepping around the side of the desk.
"Umm, what can I do for you, Mr. Daniels?" she asked, sliding her chair back slightly as he stepped between her and the desk.
"Call me deacon, Cathy," he said, almost snapped, in a tight voice. His light gray eyes stayed locked with hers, and he leaned back against the desk, directly in front of her. Cathy swallowed, suddenly very nervous, and stared up at the man.
"Yes, I mean, yes, sir, um, what can I do for you, Deacon Daniels?" she said, and could not stop her gaze, now, from sliding downwards - she found she could not meet his gaze any longer, and she swallowed again as she found herself staring at his crotch. There was a large bulge there.
Daniels felt a surge of power course through him, and felt his fattening dick give another lurch as he saw the woman switch her gaze to it. He had seen her take her jacket off earlier, and then seen her talking to the yard man (her jacket now back on). When she turned away, he could have sworn he saw her put her hand in her jacket and squeeze her breast.
He stared at the large mounds, and his dick lurched again as he found he could easily see her nipples through the light blue sweater. It clung perfectly to her large tits, and also tautly hugged her firm, slightly curved tummy.
"Slide a bit closer, Cathy," he said, and she did not notice now that he was staring at her breasts and her exposed legs.
"Umm, what - I mean, what do you want, Deacon Daniels," she said. She had to stand up for herself. She somehow looked away from his crotch, and across the room. She also slid her chair closer to him, so that her knees were between his widespread legs.
"I want to ask you about your sweater," Daniels said, enjoying this. "Give me your hand, dear," he commanded softly. Cathy licked her lips - she wanted to tell him no. She glanced at his lap again, and tried to breathe evenly as she saw the lump elongating.
"Um, what about my sweater, Deacon Daniels?" she asked, and tied not to think about the fact that she held her slim hand out to him.
"It's very revealing Cathy," Daniels said, taking her hand in his. He began massaging her hand lightly, but she just let him, she did not try to pull away at all.
"Well, I was wearing a jacket for most of the day," she said, trying to look him in the eyes. His gray eyes bored into hers.
"Yes, but you were holding it open for poor Ben," Daniels said. Ben was the yard man. "Maybe you don't know how beautiful you are, Cathy, but you do something to men - and when you show your big fucking tits and your ass off, a jacket just draws attention to your body."
"Umm, I - I . . ." Cathy trailed off, and bit her lower lip as Daniels slowly drew her hand forward. "Deacon Daniels, please," she gasped, and tugged at her hand weakly, but then he was pushing her small palm against the growing bulge in his pants.
Cathy sat very straight, and tried to gently tug her hand away, but Daniels ignored her feeble efforts and forced her small hand to rub up and down against his lengthening shaft. It felt quite large. "Deacon Daniels, please, what do you think your doing?" Cathy hissed again - she could not believe the was happening. Her left hand was gripping the arm of the chair as she felt his shaft twitch under her palm. Her fingers curled around the shaft of their own volition.
"I'm just showing you how you affect men when you're not careful, Cathy - do you think this is fair, to get a fucking boner when your talking to the preacher's wife?"
"I - I wish you wouldn't talk to me that way, Deacon Daniels," she protested softly; she had quit trying to pull her hand away from his, and could not stop squeezing his rod through his pants as he still casually forced her hand up and down his still lengthening penis.
"I asked you a question - do you think that's fair, to flash your big tits in that tight sweater?"
"I - I didn't think it was that bad with the jacket on, sir," she muttered softly. The man's cock was fully hard now, and at least ten inches long. He reached out with his left hand, and casually began rubbing her breast with his palm, dragging her stiff nipple around. Cathy sat in shocked silence - for some reason she hadn't expected the man to touch her like that. He took his hand away from hers, but her small hand stayed pressed to his pants, and she kept rubbing his stiff rod through his trousers.
"This is what men want to do when they see this little sweater, Cathy - do you think it's fair to flaunt yourself like that? Do you understand why men want to see how soft your breasts are?" As he said this began scooping her breast in his hand, and then began squeezing it firmly, testing her soft, swelling flesh in large handfuls. Cathy tried to control her breathing, and told herself she would stop rubbing his fat cock through his pants.
He rolled and squeezed her breast, and told her in a soft, commanding voice, "You know what you look like - every time you dress like this, there might be a man who wants to see how far he can push things - are you prepared for that, Cathy?" he asked,, and was using both hands now to pull her sweater up.
