Gotta tell somebody.
I stopped by my church a couple of weeks ago to drop- off coffee and office supplies from the local box store. My pastor's wife was there, catching up on some bookkeeping. I always have a sympathy for her. Our pastor's a great guy. Very humble. Very unassuming. A lot of the things that a pastor should be but most of them aren't, you know? Not a flashy man but always ready to get up in the middle of the night to sit up with sick congregant or to rush out to the scene of an accident. At the same time, if you see him on the street, he doesn't make an effort to be seen as what he does for a living.
On the other hand though, being as pious as he is, he makes all the decisions at home. One of those decisions is based on the idea that sex if for procreation only. He and his wife have three children, born in the first three years they were married so they're what, 7, 8, and 9. They have their brood and he feels that his fatherly duties are fulfilled and that's enough. We're probably not supposed to know something so personal about their relationship but it's common, if whispered, knowledge. They don't even sleep in the same room as he doesn't want her to have to wake up when someone calls in the middle of the night.
She's not a raving beauty, doesn't wear make-up, always wears skirts, your standard conservative evangelical wife. Tall, slender, willowy is how I'd describe her. And she's as nice as he is in person. Always willing to chip in. So when I started to bring things in from the bed of my truck, she grabbed a couple of bags and helped, chatting all the while. Asked me how I was doing, thanked me for running the errand, and then asked me about my wife. She'd mistaken me for someone else. I don't have a wife. Never have. I have a friend though, same age as me and same name, so she was probably thinking of him. I said something flirty back to her like, "Oh, that's not me. I think you're thinking of the other _____ and his wife, Amy. They're just fine. But Mrs., if I was thirty years younger and you were single , , , , " She blushed and laughed and swatted me on the arm. "Oh you. Always flirting. You're a sinful man to know."
We set the bags down in the office, it took two trips. Then she closed the door and standing in front of it asked me, "If I was single, what did you mean by that?"
I had just been being playful and I told her so and started to apologize.
"Please, don't apologize."
Then she lifted her skirt, hooked her thumbs into the waistband of what I was surprised to see was a tiny black thong, and stepped out of it.
"Um, excuse me," I asked
"I know everyone knows I don't get it at home. He's a lovely man but in that one way, he fails our marriage. I trust you'll be discrete, and if you don't want to, please, say so. But I need a man and you're here." Then she leaned over the desk and flipping her skirt up, bared her ass.
I don't date much, being almost sixty. Sometimes I'll go to Denver and hire an escort for the evening. I have no problem paying for it. And here was a woman with a cute ass, a peach of a hairy little pussy, and she was asking me to split that peach for her.
So, of course, I did. I lowered my trousers and boxers and after stepping up behind her and fingering her to see if she was ready, and boy was she, I slipped all the way into her with one slow stroke.
I could see her fists balling up on the blotter of her husband's desk. As I began to stroke, I could hear her begin to grunt and say softly to herself, "fuck, fuck, fuck". She wasn't the tightest I've ever been in although she may have been the wettest and when she came, she clenched up so hard that I could barely move inside of her, which triggered my own orgasm much sooner than I would have liked.
"I'm going to cum," I whispered and she replied, "It's okay. I'm on the pill." So I let go and filled her to the brim.
As we were rearranging our clothes, I asked, "If you don't get this at home, why are you on the pill?"
"An essential part of faith is hope. And so I kind of always hope that he'll change his mind and I want to be ready if and when he does. Besides, you don't think this is the first time I've done this, do you?" She chuckled a little. "It's actually only the second time. But if you won't want it to be the last, I could see this happening again. How would you feel about that? You fit inside of me nicely."
"But you're a pastor's wife and this is sin, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. But if you don't sin, you have nothing to be forgiven for."
So even though I'm thirty years older and she's not single, I'm going to be helping paint the church basement tomorrow while he's out of town and the kids are in school. I'm going to need to be forgiven. More than once, I hope.
