THE CHRISTMAS PARTY
Contrary to popular belief, all minister’s wives aren’t prudes. Take me; you could to if you were here with me right now because I’m sitting here naked with my pussy craving to be filled with your big cock. I love sex but it’s the one thing that I never get at home anymore. My Man Of The Cloth firmly believes that God meant sex for procreation purpose only and any sex that doesn’t have a chance of producing new life is a sin. In his eyes, even masturbation was a sin because it couldn’t bring forth life. Me, on the other hand, firmly believe that if God hadn’t meant us to enjoy sex for its own sake wouldn’t have made having an orgasm feel so fucking fantastic. Anyway, to make a long story short, my husband stopped fucking me as our second child was conceived three years ago.
I was following in the family tradition when I married a minister because my father was a minister as were my grandfather, my great grandfather, and my great-great grandfather and they were all Southern Baptist and they all seemed to be really hung up propriety. My husband was always criticizing me on the way I dressed. My dresses and skirts were too short. My tops were to revealing. My panties weren’t demure enough but his biggie was the fact that I never wore a bra. I stopped wearing a bra after our first child was born because my nipple had become so sensitive that anything pressing against them irritated them but I soon discovered that the soft fabric of my dresses and blouses rubbing against them made them tingle with the beginning of arousal and I loved the feeling. Besides that it really turned me on to have guys, even if it was in church during services, undress me and make love to me with their eyes. Some guys were so good at it that my panties would be sopping wt by the end of the sermon and I could hardly wait to services were over with to masturbate in the ladies room.
Paul was the best at it and I tried to sit with him and his wife, Clair, whenever I could. I should have been married to Paul and my husband to Clair because she was a prude. She came to church wearing stylish, but very long dresses that were always buttoned to the neck and she always wore stockings to church. There was never even a hint of nipples so she was wearing a bra under those dresses as well. Paul, on the other hand, always wore tight dress Jeans and shirts that showed off his body builder’s physique. My eyes always kept drifting to his bulging crotch as my husband droned on about sin, hell, and the need to come to God today. From the size of that bulge, I knew that he had to be hung like a horse. Paul caught me looking at his bulging crotch the first time I looked and smiled deeply into my eyes, his eyes telling me that he understood. Clair hung on to is every word and never noticed what was going on between her husband and me.
Every time we rose to sing and then sat back down, Paul was sitting a little closer to me until his left shoulder and arm pressed lightly against my right one. Soon after my husband started his sermon that morning, Paul stretched both his arms out on the back of our pew, his hands lightly pressing against out shoulders. Clair was oblivious to his touch, but it sent a shock wave of excitement coursing through my body like a powerful electric current. As the sermon progressed, the pressure of his fingertips on my bare skin increased little by little until he was holding me tightly against his side. My nipples grew hard and tried to thrust their way through the soft silky material of my dress. Paul caressed them with his eyes and I would start to tremble against him, my thighs parting so our thighs laid against one another. Careful to not be noticed, I moved my thigh against his causing his cock to grow hard and strain out against the Denim that held it prisoner. By the time the services ended and the coffee hour was to begin, we were both ready to cum. When we left the sanctuary, Paul always walked stiff legged to conceal his throbbing hard on and to keep from shooting his wad in his pants. Clair did notice that and he always told her that his leg had gone to sleep from sitting through the long sermon.
Every Sunday after that, Paul and I fucked each other with our eyes and minds as we sat through one long drawn-out sermon after another. It was a good thing that I always read my husband’s sermons at home because otherwise I would never have been able to discuss them intelligently during coffee hour afterwards. I never heard a word of the sermon as it was being given. I don’t think that Paul ever did either. I wanted to fuck Paul for real in the worse way and I finally got the opportunity at Paul and Clair’s Christmas Party.
I was very horny the night of Paul and Clair’s Christmas Eve party and I needed to get laid. I had spent the afternoon masturbating, thinking about Paul but masturbating has never satisfied me for long and lately all it seemed to accomplish was to make even hornier within minute of having an orgasm. I wanted to get laid and I wanted to get laid by Paul. Therefore, much to my husband’s disapproval, I wore a long sleeved, red velvet and marabous, off the shoulder mini dress with matching Santa cap and pumps.