I licked my lips, savoring the flavor of her husband’s cum as I turned back and nodded to my father’s sermon. He was such a sexy man. Such passion in his voice, in his face. The same passion with which he fucked the whore.
And my mother did not appreciate it one bit.
After my father’s sermon, which left me wet and itching and eager to commit more sin, the collection plate passed around. My mother slipped me a crisp $5 bill to drop in. It never made sense to me. My father’s salary was paid by the tithe. My mother then gave me $5 of it to drop back into the plate.
An endless cycle.
As I waited for the plate, I slipped the note I had written earlier into the folded $5 and shuddered when I dropped it into the brass plate lined with red velvet, joining the bills and checks and coins. I passed it on to my mother, who dropped a check in. The ushers collected it and took it to the treasury.
My note would then get discovered.
A hot flutter shot through me as church ended. I endured the endless chitchat of my friends, my flesh fiery hot. Mother went off to host the after service luncheon while I remained behind, promising to straighten up the auditorium while father had to attend to his duties.
The moment I could, I slipped out of the worship room and headed to the changing room. It was for baptisms. One door led out to our baptismal pool to the right of the pulpit, the other to the office hallways. The room was dark, with no windows. It had a makeshift clothes rack which hung the baptismal gowns, all pure white, along with spare hangers.
I stripped.
It was so freeing to be naked in the church. My nipples were so hard atop my bouncing breasts as I moved through the room, my dress neatly hung with the baptismal gowns. I shuddered, my pussy juices trickling down my thighs as I skipped across the room and flicked off the light.
Then I moved to a small table in the corner of the room, the only light in the room spilling through the gap at the bottom of the door. I seated myself on the table, leaned back on my elbows, and waited for my note to be found.
I licked my lips, a horny flush shuddering through me. I wrote the note with my right hand to disguise it and, feeling real naughty, I had kissed it, leaving a bright-red imprint of my lips on it. Something sultry.
It was a simple note: “I saw you with Donna Paxtor. I am hot, wet, and itching for your cock. Find me in the baptismal changing room.”
I ran my fingers through the fine down of hair covering my pudenda, keeping away from my itching pussy. I didn’t want to masturbate now. I wanted the anticipation to build and build, making me even hotter. In my father’s office, he was going through the tithes, adding up how much donations the church had, working on their books. The church couldn’t afford a treasurer.
So Father had to do double duty.
I bit my lip, twining my blonde curls about my finger as I waited. My pussy grew juicer and juicer. I could feel each drop trickle down from my pussy, across the cheeks of my ass, to puddle on the table I lounged again.
I squirmed in the wet spot I formed. It was so wicked of me. I was such a sinful harlot. My toes curled as I squirmed. The air kissed my naked flesh. There was something so liberating about being naked outside of the bathroom or my bedroom. A naughty thrill.
My heart beat as my ears strained. Every noise made me hopeful Father found my note. I pictured him in his office, collar off, working through the checks and cash, writing in the ledger, and then the moment he unfurled my $5 bill and discovered the note.
What would he think?
Would he panic? Would he look around, wondering who knew his secret? And then he would read the next words. Would he smile realizing his blackmailer was a hot, horny woman eager to enjoy the preacher’s dick? His cock would swell in his pants. Would it itch like my pussy? Would it tingle and beg to sin?
Why did God give us bodies that yearned to sin so much if he had a problem with sex?
How long would he debate my note? How long before he investigated? Would he wait, pondering his response, as the minutes ticked by? Or would lust overwhelm him and drive him to the changing room. It was only a few doors down from his.
The church was empty. We were the only two people here. No one would know.
I bit my lip, my right hand squeezing a large tit. I found my nipple, so hard and aching. I brushed it and groaned. Tingles ran through my body. A horny shudder rippled through me. I needed Father to come and find me. I needed his hard cock to take my virginity.
It would be so taboo. So wrong. I couldn’t stop thinking about him since I saw his dick. My father was so sexy. So handsome.
I let out a whimper of frustration. How long would it take for him to find my note? How long would it take him to enter the dark room and fuck the anonymous woman? It would be such a wicked secret to fuck my father without him even knowing who I was.