“Fine,” she sighed, looking around to see if anyone was watching… yet everyone was already in the main worship area, or heading that way.
I followed her into the office, and as soon as she closed the door, I ordered, “Lock it.”
“Please, Kevin, not here,” she said, even though she obeyed my order and locked the door.
I pulled out my hard cock and said, “Consider this your worship time.”
“Kevin,” she said, looking at my dick, and getting distracted instantly… my cock, I was discovering, did that to all varieties of women.
“You can suck me or I can fuck you,” I offered, walking over to her and gripping her shoulders, “I’m okay with either.”
“Damn you, Kevin,” she sighed as she dropped before me, her brief resistance shattered with just the appearance of my dick and a little firm persona. “You’re too much like your father.”
As she stroked my cock, I asked, “Oh, has he fucked you at church?”
“He’d never set foot in a church,” she laughed. “But he does whatever he wants and expects complete obedience.”
“I see,” I said, tapping her lips with my cock, “in that we’re the same.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“And do you like it?”
“I hate to admit that I do,” she said, just before I slid my big hard cock between her luscious lips.
Once my dick was in her mouth she began bobbing, as if instinctively this was what she was born to do… which I suppose was partially true. She completely forgot she should be in the chapel singing some lame hymn about worshipping the Lord, while instead, she worshipped my big, fat cock.
Loving the power I had over this beautiful black woman, and also the irony of her being a minister’s wife, I revelled in it. I asked, after a couple minutes of her great blow job, pulling out so she could answer, “Tell me what you most want to worship today, my pet.”
“Oh Kevin,” she said, “just let me get you off.”
“Tell me,” I ordered, slapping her face with my cock.
“Your cock, Kevin, I want to worship your big, fat cock,” she answered, wonderfully obedient after her brief interlude of resistance.
“Bend over your husband’s desk,” I ordered, since she hadn’t obeyed my initial order instantly and, truth be told, I kind of wanted to fuck her. The idea of my cum pooled inside her recently used pussy while she sat in the church sanctuary listening to some long-winded sermon and some generic Bible passages, was pretty wickedly hot.
“Kevin, we don’t have enough time,” she whined.
“Slut, you need to understand our relationship has a very clear hierarchy,” I ordered, pulling her up and surprising her by kissing her.
She didn’t kiss me back at first, but then she soon di return it. When I broke away, she said in a daze, “I’ve haven’t kissed a man who wasn’t my husband since I got married.”
“Does your preacher man fuck you like this?” I asked, spinning her around and bending her over his desk.
“No, he doesn’t,” she admitted, no longer struggling against getting fucked when she should be in church. As I pulled up her dress, then pulled down her pantyhose and panties, she demanded, suddenly sounding horny and urgent, “Now shove that big cock inside me.”
“You sure?” I asked, as I rubbed my dick teasingly between her pussy lips.
“Yes, slam that big dick in me, and hurry,” she cried out in frustration.
“As you wish,” I agreed, sliding my cock deep into her pussy.
“Oh, you’re so bad,” she moaned, as I reached for her hair and tugged, as I began fucking her.
“You’re the slut taking an eighteen-year old’s dick in her pussy in her husband’s office at church,” I pointed out.
“You made me do it,” she defended, as she moaned and allowed me to have my way with her.
“You could have said no,” I argued, which was true. “You wanted my dick more than you wanted to sing gospel songs and listen to your husband babble on about biblical bullshit and moral righteousness.”
By the way, I don’t actually hate religion. I believe in God, or at least a God. Or maybe a Goddess of some sort, since all the wars in history were started by men. Yet the way many religions manipulate people at church (or wherever) really pisses me off, as does their usual holier than thou posturing.
“But we shouldn’t be doing this,” she moaned, as I really hammered her from behind.
“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, not actually stopping, and knowing what she’d say.
“No, dammit,” she cursed, frustrated that she did indeed prefer getting pounded by me to attending yet another church service. “Don’t you dare stop!”
“I’m going to unload in your pussy, so you’ll have to sit in my cum for the rest of the service,” I said, my embarrassing idea so fucking hot.
“You bad boy,” she moaned, no longer even attempting to oppose me.
“Does Tamara know you’re my slut?” I asked, impressed by how I could keep my deep, hard thrusts going, plus a conversation at the same time… and they say men can’t multitask.
“No,” she answered with a loud moan.
“Why not?”
“We don’t gossip about who’s fucking and using me during our conversations.”
“Well, the topic may come up soon, since I’ll be stopping by tonight to visit both of you,” I said, not sure if that would actually be doable… since I had no idea how long Tamara would be visiting her parents… although I did know Minister Grady ran a Sunday evening youth group… since he’d mentioned to my mother many times how much I’d benefit from it.
“Oh, Kevin,” she moaned, as I really slammed into her.
“How long will your slut daughter be home this time?” I asked, loving the prospect of dominating a beautiful religious woman… who also happened to be my mother’s dominant Mistress.
“She’s going back to college on Wednesday morning.”
“I see,” I said. “Why is she at home?”
“There’s a funeral tomorrow for one of our parishioners she used to babysit for.”
“Oh,” I said, that downer deflating the erotic nature of our conversation. Deciding to change the topic and ask a question I’d been wondering about ever since I walked into church today, “Besides my Mom, are any of your other woman pets at church today?”