A Pastor's Paramour

Rev. Willis P. Smithfield knew the knock of opportunity when he heard it. This was opportunity trying to kick his door in.

Amanda Weatherwill had requested a private counseling session with him. He was certain that the last thing Mrs. Weatherwill wanted was advice. She sat primly in a chair in her pastor's office with her hands folded in her lap. This caused her upper arms to squeeze her massive breasts together in such a way that the buttons of her blouse seemed to be straining mightily to hold back the tide of the copious amount of flesh beneath.

It was a sight that Rev. Smithfield had savored many times. Mrs. Weatherwill and her husband, Barton, always sat in a pew right in front of the pulpit She always sat in exactly this posture. He could count on the fact that, by the time he had finished his sermon, she would have undone two buttons on her blouse to reveal a generous amount of her cavernous cleavage. He was always grateful that the pulpit was sufficiently wide to cover up the long, thick erection that her display always gave him.

In the year since he had been assigned to this parish he had never made any overt response to her flirtation. The Weatherwills were leaders among the church elders. They were generous with both their funds and their time. Barton had begun, with a seeding of two thousand dollars, the fund to repair the roof. When the work began he took hammer in hand to help with the work. Amanda ran the Teen Girl's Youth Group and supervised the coffee hour after each Sunday's service.

The only complaint he had ever had about either of them was that Mrs. Weatherwill insisted upon playing the part of the pompous church lady, rubbing her position in the parish hierarchy in people's faces. The pastor had long suspected that there was a simmering cauldron of lust beneath that holier-than-thou façade. He knew that it was simply a matter of time until he would be able to yank the lid off of that cauldron to warm his own boiling desires.

As he sat behind his desk, looking the woman directly in the eye, he listened patiently to her complaint as she said, "That's precisely the difficulty, though, Reverend." She made a gesture as if to fan herself. While returning her hand to her lap she unfastened the top button of her blouse. "I have always been a woman of great need. It would seem to have increased in recent years. I'm not sure what to do? I'm not sure that I can be forgiven for such sin."

"I'm not convinced that any sin has been committed," the reverend said calmly, "What you are feeling would seem to be completely normal for, if you'll pardon the expression, a woman of your age."

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Weatherwill asked, still appearing distressed.

"Well, not to be indelicate," said the minister, "you are in your mid-forties. At that age the average woman is achieving her sexual peak. Your husband, at the same age, is in his sexual decline."

"That seems reasonable, but..." she started to say, but her pastor cut her off.

"You, being a highly above average woman," he continued as he watched her hand unfasten a second button, "are probably finding it more difficult than most other women might.

As your husband's desire diminishes and, presumably, your sexual activity with him decreases you are finding it harder to keep your desires under control."

He was having a good deal of difficulty himself. He was hard as a rock and wanted nothing more than to throw the pompous bitch down on the floor and fuck her ragged.

"But what I feel seems so wicked," she whined, "Is it sinful to feel this way?"

"The answer to that," said Rev. Smithfield rising from his chair, "may actually lie in the answer to another question."

"What question?" she asked as she undid a third button.

She watched intently as her pastor walked around to the front of his desk to stand directly before her. As he folded his arms and leaned back on the desk she gazed longingly at the thick bulge snaking down his trouser leg.

"The question that you need to answer is," firmly as her cupped her chin to raise her eyes to meet his own, "are you a wicked woman or are you a good woman who is having wicked thoughts?"

"What's the difference?" she asked as she lowered her eyes back to his bulge.

She had fantasized about this for a year. She wanted that pulsing, cloth covered organ. She wanted it in her mouth. She wanted it in her pussy. She wanted it between her tits. She might even try it in her ass.

"The difference," he said as he reached down to unfasten a fourth button on her blouse, "is the difference between words and actions."

"I see," she said as her breathing became heavier.

Running a finger down the line of her considerable cleavage he asked, "If you have never acted on those thoughts then you are a good woman who has wicked thoughts. On the other hand..." He let the unfinished sentence hang in the air.

Her breath was becoming ragged. Her breasts heaved with the effort. She could do nothing but stare at the mighty cudgel inside of her pastor's trousers.

"That thing will split me in two," she thought, "Oh, God, I want that thing to split me in two."

Folding his arms again across his broad chest he said, "So, tell me Mrs. Weatherwill..."

"Amanda," she breathed.

"Allright," he continued, "Tell me, Amanda, have you ever acted on those thoughts? Are you a wicked woman?"

Amanda was uncertain how to answer. If it ever got out how many times she had given in to her lust she would be ruined. She was having trouble thinking straight because all she wanted, at that moment, was to be ruined by her pastor's big dick.

Sensing her reluctance to answer he said, "Nothing you say in this office will leave here. I am forbidden by church law to speak of it."

He leaned down, reached into the cups of her bra to squeeze her huge tits and asked, "Now tell me. Have you ever offered these to anyone besides your husband?"

The heat of his massive hands made her shudder.

"Yes," she moaned.

"How many times?" he asked as he undid the last two buttons of her blouse and began sliding it off her shoulders, "Once? Twice? More?"

"More," she whispered as she extended her hand to touch the object of her heat, "much more."

"More?" he asked mockingly.

"Yes," she murmured.

She stroked his steel-like prong through his pant with one hand and began undoing his belt with the other.

"I am a wicked woman," she said, "very wicked."

He looked down at her as she frantically undid the trouser button and yanked down his zipper.

"Are you sorry for having been so wicked so many times?" he asked.

"Sometimes" she said weakly.

He unclasped the catch at the front of her bra which caused her ponderous breasts to bounce free. Then he pushed her chair back and stepped away from her. He quickly undressed in silence. She sat watching as he stripped himself. He was better than she had imagined. He was six feet tall with broad shoulders, and massively muscular arms. Black, wavy hair topped a square-jawed face with chiseled features. His robin's egg blue eyes betrayed the intense darkness behind them.

"Strip!" he commanded.

Amanda couldn't get rid of her clothes fast enough. She had never felt like this before. The intensity of his gaze alone could have melted her. When added to his muscular stature and what looked to be, at least, a ten inch cock she was beyond any lust she had ever known. It frightened her as much as it aroused her. She had no idea what this man would do to her. She only knew that she was desperate for him to do it.

When she was finally naked he shouted, "Sit!"

She sat.

"Did I hear you say 'sometimes'?" he asked as he towered over her trembling form. "Sometimes?" he shouted.

She suddenly felt vulnerable and small. She crossed her arms over her breasts in a vain attempt to cover them.

He yanked her arms down to her sides as he bellowed, "You cannot hide from your sin, woman! Sit up straight. Spread you thighs. Show the Lord all of your wicked flesh!"

She complied.

Putting his fists on his hips he continued, "Sometimes is not good enough! You must beg forgiveness for ALL of you sinful, sluttish ways!"

"Yes," she said softly.

"In order to find absolution you must display absolute contrition, fealty, and obedience," He preached, "Are you willing to do that?"

"Yes," she said a bit louder this time.

"Are you willing to show absolute contrition?" he asked as he kneaded her jugs like bread dough.

"Yes," she said loudly.

"Are you willing to show absolute fealty?" he roared as her pinched her nipples.

"Yes!" she shouted.

"Are you willing to show absolute obedience?" growled as he rammed a finger into her dripping gash.

"Yes!" she screamed.

He stood up, and put his fists on his hips. His stiff weapon bobbed next to her plush lips.

"Then WORSHIP!" he commanded.

Amanda fell to her knees and worshiped his cock as though her life depended on it. She licked, kissed and nibbled every inch of his powerful staff. She covered it from top to bottom with her lips, spit, and tongue. The she plunged her head down over the crown to take as much of as she could into the boiling slickness of her mouth. She got it almost halfway down before it hit the back of her throat triggering her gag reflex.

The pastor grabbed her head and moaned. He'd had blowjobs in his life, but nothing like this. He felt like she was going suck his balls out through the head of his cock. But, he knew that there was one more thing that he needed to do to gain final and complete control of this busty slut.

With her head clenched tightly in his massive paws and rammed his cock into her slick oral cavity until her nose was buried in his pubic hair and his gonads bounced off of her chin. She gaged as she had a small orgasm. Then he began fucking her face in earnest. He savagely crammed her face full of his masterful man-meat.

She gagged and climaxed, gagged and climaxed, gagged and climaxed. She had never had such an intense sexual experience in her entire life. She was completely insane with the brutality induced orgasmic euphoria. She pinched a nipple so hard that it hurt with one hand and manically fingered her dripping cunt with the other. She was drenched in sweat from the raw carnality of her pastor's relentless hammering.

Suddenly he yanked his wrist-wide tube steak out of her mouth and released her head. She fell to the ground coughing and sputtering.

"Stand!" he shouted.

She struggled to her feet.

Standing up she was more magnificent than he could possibly have imagined. Her tits were round, bowling ball sized spheres. Despite their size and her age they only showed a hint of sagging. Beneath that was a narrow almost waspish waist which ended in wide, womanly hips. She was built for fucking. There was no other reason for such a body to exist.

"Spread those wicked thighs, slut!" he bellowed.

She spread them.

He picked her up by the waist and impaled her wet hole on his hot pole. Still holding her waist he rammed her up and down on his rod. It was every bit as savage and brutal as the face fucking had been. She had never been so full. She had never cum so many times. She had never been so fucked.

She was like a rag doll in his hands. Her gigantic tits flopped and danced spastically as he fucked her. She was completely helpless to do anything but scream and cum.

Rev. Smithfield couldn't believe how tight she was. She was in her forties and had given birth to three kids, but her pussy gripped his cock like a miser gripping a dime. He had never been like this with any woman. Sure, he had dominated many, but had never been the barbarous Neanderthal that he had become with Amanda Weatherwill. The crazy part was that she seemed to love it. She was cumming again and again. Every time she did her twat tightened around his fuck meat. It was an exquisite pressure that would probably drive him over the edge damned quickly if he allowed it. He wasn't going to allow it he had waited too long for this.

Just as suddenly as he had picked her up and impaled her he lifted her up and set her back on her feet. Amanda seemed disoriented by the abrupt emptiness.

"On your back!" he demanded.

"Oh, she said trying to catch her breath, "Doing the pastor in missionary position. That works."

"No!" he shouted then pulled her close for a tooth bending kiss.

As their tongues danced and weaved with each other he groped and mauled her huge tits.

"You've been teasing me with these things for a fucking year," he growled, "Now I'm going to get my pound of flesh. I'm going to get my due!"

"Yes." She hissed as she got down on the carpeted floor of the office. She held up her ponderous skin mountains as if in offering and said, "Fuck my tits!"

He straddled her torso and leaned down to snarl in her ear, "I will. I'm going to fuck your slutty, wicked, church lady tits. Then I'm going to cum on your slutty, wicked, church lady face. I'm going to baptize you with the only liquid you deserve, cunt!"

She shuddered with delight at the verbal abuse as he sat up and laid his log into her fleshy valley. She was so slick with sweat and he was so slick with her vaginal juices that they needed no additional lubrication.

She squeezed her tits as tightly as she could around his stiff, thick ramrod as he started sliding and out of the deep canyon.

For the pastor this was it. This was what he had waited for. This was what this hot bitch was made for. This was the moment of truth. He was going ram her tits until she screeched.

His hips were a virtual blur as he fucked her funbags. He'd never felt anything so soft yet, for her age, so firm. He was in absolute ecstasy as he humped her hot jugs. He slapped his hands over hers to make the tit channel even tighter. She licked the head of his dick each time it emerged from her cleavage.

"This is why you exist!" he bellowed, "Isn't it?"

"Yes," she shouted.

"This is why God put you on this Earth! Isn't it?"

"Yes!"

"This is your purpose in life! Isn't it?"

"Yes!"

"You exist to make a man cum with these huge tits! Isn't that right?"

"YES!"

"Then do your job you skanky, pompous bitch! Make me cum with your tits!"

"YES!"

She shoved her jugs together even tighter around his mighty prong. As she did that he pinched her nipple so hard that it was painful. That put her over the edge. Her entire body trembled and shook with a bone crushing orgasm. She screeched her pleasure.

When she did he started spurting his ball butter into her tit cavern. She immediately let go of her bazooms and grabbed his hard cock to try to aim it at her mouth. They were both moving way too much for that to happen. The second volley hit her eye. The third went in her hair. She clamped her plush lips around the head of his fuck stick so that the rest of his juice could go directly into her mouth. She swirled it around with her tongue to savor the flavor before she swallowed it.

When he had fired the last shot of his viscous liquid into her he slumped backwards and rolled off of her body. He was more spent than he could ever remember being.

Amanda snuggled up behind him and reached down to fondle his softening pussy pleaser. Every pastor they had ever had, so far, had been abruptly transferred out. Amanda had been at the root of it every time. She immediately got rid of the ones who went all religious on her and wouldn't fuck her and she eventually got tired of the ones who would. But, she was sure that she'd hit the jackpot this time. Nobody had ever fucked her like that. She wasn't going to let this one get away anytime soon. She was certain that the parish had finally found a permanent pastor.

Rev. Smithfield was thinking, "If I could have a few more counselling sessions like this I would be a very happy man."