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Comments are very welcome. While the Reverend Gary Powell preached about the sanctity of marriage and the sins of the flesh, he had no qualms about indulging in them, violating his own marriage vows to my mother by desecrating another holy bond. It was such a dirty word. One my mother would wash my mouth out if she even thought I knew it.

But there was no other word than fucking to describe what he did to Donna Paxtor. Her bottom rippled every time Father slammed into her. It made an obscene, slapping sound, joining her voice. Watching my father sin with Donna awakened lusts inside my body. I had sexual desires before that day, but they were tiny.

My heart would flutter for a cute boy at school, a sinful itch forming between my thighs which I had always resisted at the urging of my mother. I had denied myself like I was taught, like my father had preached. But watching him, his chest surprisingly muscular for a man in his forties, awakened me to true sexual desires. He was a handsome man, I always knew that, with dark hair touched by wings of gray streaking back from the temples. He made me squirm.

I forgot all about working with the flower bed, which is why I came to the church after school. That warm itch, blossomed in me. Right then, tight there, behind the church, I shoved my hand down my jeans and into my panties. I brushed through my silken pubic hair and found the lips of my vagina.

No, my pussy, like the boys called it. A filthy, wonderful name for the hot, hungry hole between my thighs. I massaged my lips, shuddering and quivering, my long, blonde hair flowing about my head. I shivered, frigging myself faster and faster, rubbing across my wet lips. Sinful juices coated them as I stared at my father fucking a married woman.

I shuddered, biting my lip to keep from moaning like a wanton whore, screaming like Donna. They violated the church with their affair. It was so wrong. I stroked through my flesh faster, wishing I was bent over the table, wondering why I denied Ricky my virginity when we were going steady a few months back. He broke off our relationship in favor of that slut Carolyn.

I shuddered and then it happened as I rubbed myself watching my father. It dripped from her juices. He grunted once, twice, and then buried into her as I shuddered. The pleasure burned through me. It let me swaying, lightheaded. And then they were done. He pulled out of the whore. Donna Paxtor moaned in delight, clearly satiated like I was.

I stepped back from the window, pulling up my jeans and buttoning them. I stared at the juices on my fingers then bolted. His cock thrust at me, hard and angry. He and his wife, Donna, always showed up early to help setup the church along with my family. While my father slipped into his office to ready for his sermon, and my mother and the whore were busy making sure all the printed off sermon guides were on the pews, I headed to seduce Deacon Bill, a coquettish smile on my face.

He was a handsome man, old, in his thirties, tall, handsome, with the roguish good-looks of a James Dean—well, not that roguish, but who is? I slipped into his office where he was going over church documents, a coquettish smile on my face, my hands behind my back as I swayed forward. He looked up at me, a polite smile on my face as I locked the door behind me. I stood in my Sunday best, a white, sleeveless dress, belted at the waist, with a bell skirt falling down to my knees.

I had my black Mary Janes on and white stockings vanished beneath my skirt. My smile turned seductive, hungry as I stopped before his small desk. Do you need something?

I leaned on it, my fingernails painted with clear lacquer, reflecting the light. Blonde hair fell off my shoulders before me. I shook my head from side-to-side. Something so very naughty and sinful and it has me feeling all…flustered. The woman was bent over the desk, almost like I am right now.

They were full, red, lush lips. Ricky, on the last night I went out with them, called them cock-sucking lips. Oh, if only I knew the truth, awakened to my body, I would have gladly done it.

Adults pretended to talk about how sinful sex was, but they were all doing it. Cheating, fucking, enjoying themselves with carnal passion.

It was so wrong for them to deny me. It was hot, exciting even. Always condemning those who fornicate. And…I was hoping you could help me out. I want to have fun. I caressed his stomach through his white dress shirt before I moved lower to his dark-blue slacks. I craned my neck, glimpsing his bulge. My pussy gave a sinful shiver as I stroked his bulge. I would love to learn how to give a blowjob. The tone of his voice changed. He seized my hand and pulled it from his crotch. I gasped at how tight his grip was.

He stood, his chair sliding back on its wheels, and marched around his small desk, pulling my arm with him. I knocked over his pen cup, spilling them across the floor. The word sent a shudder through me. No man liked to hear his woman cheated on him, even when he was about to have a sixteen-year-old suck on his cock.

He smiled, his eyes flicking down to my bodice. The dress was tight, my breasts swelling the front. I was already bigger than my mother. And it was clear he appreciated them. I had never hard the word cunt. It sounded so vile. I loved the word and the sensations it triggered. My body had such delights to offer. So I knelt in my Sunday best and reached out with one hand. I unzipped his slacks.

The tails of his shirt peeked out like two cat ears. I shuddered, feeling his cock hard and throbbing in my hand. An obscene rush went through me. I drew it out, staring at my first penis. It was long and fat. Could one really fit in me? I would find out. But not with this one. I stroked his cock, loving the way the skin moved over the hard shaft.

The tip was pink, flared out like a mushroom, and smooth. A slit leaked a clear liquid, not urine. Curious, I leaned forward and licked the tip. It had a faint, salty aroma. A hot shudder went through me. My free hand, not occupied with his prick, shot between my thighs.

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Preacher’s Sinful Daughter Chapter 1: Sinning in the Dark | My Pen Name

He talked gibberish but somehow I understood. He had not said it! He had never said it! And yet, as I got up and walked out of the church through a silent, empty sanctuary, I knew in my heart what he was asking me to do. He was asking me to fuck his wife! Alone in my apartment that night I thought again and again about that conversation.

I'm a preacher, but not a prude. I'd fucked my share of girls since college. Of course I had to be very careful to avoid even the slightest suspicion. I had always thought of it as a search for "safe pussy. So far I had a spotless reputation. But fuck the preacher's wife? It was so absurd that no one would ever suspect it, but still? What the hell was I going to do? And Wade, poor Wade! They were gonna castrate Wade Jiles. What an ugly thing!

I remembered reading about the Barbary pirates capturing Christians from ships in the Mediterranean and holding them for ransom. When they got a young couple they would castrate the husband so he could work in some Algerian brothel where he watched his wife get regularly fucked, her market value declining with each thick Algerian penis she serviced. When she was just a worn-out whore, they would accept the ransom money and send the two back to Europe -- still a couple, but now mismatched -- the wife conditioned for heavy use and the husband without his testicles.

The King James Bible on the table caught my eye. It reminded me that the Barbary pirates were not alone. The English had raised castration to the level of a spectator sport. After capturing the men who conspired to kill King James by blowing up Parliament in , a half-dozen prisoners were led to a scaffold erected in the Old Palace Yard at Westminster.

Before a jeering, laughing crowd of spectators, they were stripped and castrated -- their testicles flung out to the waiting hounds.

After this indignity they were executed. It was the women who laughed the loudest and moved up closest for the best view.

I could almost hear the shrieks of the struggling prisoners drowned out by the raucous laughter of the street women at the edge of the scaffolding, watching the gleaming little blade do its emasculating work -- again and again and again.

Until modern times, Nov 5th has been celebrated as Guy Fawkes Night with bonfires in memory that execution. My mind recoiled at the thought of castration. The next morning things proceeded apace. I had an idea what was supposed to happen. It was a friendly evening, finishing with Dr. Jiles saying he was going to leave to visit a number of sick and home-bound parishioners.

When he left there was a prolonged and uncomfortable silence. Pam and I looked at each other without speaking. I realized I was supposed to fuck her. But, how the hell do you do that to a dignified, middle-aged lady you had always respected as a leader of the church? She was almost thirty years older than I was. At the moment, however, she was far from dignified. I had seen horny women before and Pam was the perfect image of a horny woman.

Her facial expression was slack, her mouth slightly open, and her breathing was heavy. She was almost trembling in anticipation. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Pam said, "Let's go up to the guest bedroom. The house was empty but Pam closed the door anyway. When she turned to face me she was trembling. Clearly she wanted to fuck. She hadn't felt a hard one in six months.

She needed to spread her legs and take one deep. If I was gonna fuck this horny bitch I wanted to see what she looked like. I'd never fucked a gal who was over thirty -- or at least admitted she was over thirty. I had no idea what I was in for with a fifty-two year old. I didn't even know if I could get it up.

Pam reached behind her back, unbuttoned her dress, slipped her arms out and the dress fell to the floor. She stepped out of it. She was wearing a bra and half-slip. She hooked her thumbs in the half-slip and took it off, throwing in on the floor with her dress. She stood before me in bra and panties. She did not have hose on and she was wearing what some gals called "granny-heels" -- the two-inch heels that she usually wore to church.

She was about five-six and must have weighed at least a hundred and forty pounds. Her tits sagged, even in a strong matron's bra. Her thighs were a bit heavy, but not really that bad and her legs actually might have looked pretty good in spike heels. Her belly pooched out a little in her panties. But the thing that I noticed first was her beaver. It was visible through her white panties and the hair grew down on her inner thighs at least an inch. She could never have worn a regular bathing suit with a beaver like that.

It was dark brunet and the curly hair was so thick it grew up on her belly in a point, like a man's pubic hair. She reached behind her and unhooked her bra and when it came off those big tits sagged down and jiggled with every movement. She had huge nipples and they were erect. She hooked her thumbs in her panties and pulled them down, kicking them off into the pile with her other clothes. Then she just stood there stark naked, trembling in anticipation, and let me look at her.

That was the hairiest pussy I had ever seen in my life and this lady was obviously very eager to fuck. I figured I had better undress and I did so. She watched me hungrily as I stripped.

When I was naked she walked over to me rapidly and dropped to her knees on the lush carpet. Grabbing my flaccid cock she took it into her mouth and I felt her tongue start to work on it as she lightly massaged my testicles with her fingers. Gals had sucked my dick before but never as skillfully as this.

She had me erect before I even realized it. Then she reached around me and took my butt in both her hands and pulled me forward so my cock went deep into her mouth -- then deeper -- and finally her lips were in my pubic hair. I had seven inches. How the hell did a preacher's wife learn to deep throat? I was turning on. In a single motion she reached up and grabbed my hands and pulled me down on my knees between her legs.

She spread her legs as wide as she could, lifted her knees up in the air, and guided my cock into a big, wet, soft, loose, sloppy pussy. I couldn't help myself -- I started to hump.

She was panting with excitement. She matched me hump for hump and laid back. I supported my weight on my hands and looked down at those big breasts rolling back and forth on her chest as we fucked. Her eyes were closed, her back was arched, and her head was thrown back on the rug.

Her arms were around me with her hands on my ass pulling me hard against her. She was so horny that in less than a minute her orgasm began and she started to scream. It was a damn good thing the house was empty. She had an orgasm but her pussy was so loose that I hardly felt any contractions. I kept on fucking her and she lowered her legs enough to change the way my pubic bone pressed into her beaver. She put her hands on my hips and positioned me in a special way. I wondered what the hell she was doing, but I kept on fucking the horny bitch.

And then I felt it! She had the biggest clitoris I had ever seen. It was rock hard like a little penis and was almost the size of my thumb. I had not seen that huge clitoris when she stripped naked, because it had been hidden by her lush pubic hair. What she had done was to position my pubic bone so it massaged that hard clit when we fucked.

She moaned and groaned and rubbed against me as hard as she could, working for another orgasm. When it came, she started to scream again and this time I felt her pussy muscles contract. She dropped her feet to the floor to get better leverage and kept right on fucking as hard as she could -- grunting like an animal now. She was starting to sweat heavily and I could hear wet squishy sounds as I shoved my cock in and out of that loose, dripping pussy. Finally I pumped my load deep and collapsed on her body panting for air.

I needed that more than you can ever know. Then that magical mouth went to work on my cock. When I was hard she took me deep-throat for a couple of minutes and I wondered once again how a preacher's wife learned to do this. Then she pulled me on top of her and positioned my pubic bone on her clit, which was as hard as a rock. This time she reached down under her thigh, took hold of my balls, and massaged them while I fucked her.

This lady really knew how to fuck! Pam had two more orgasms -- both after a strong massage of her rock hard clitoris by my pubic bone and both accompanied by loud screams that resonated through the entire house. I showered in the guest bathroom, dressed, and left the house before her husband returned from his rounds. As I left she thanked me and said, "May I call you when I need it again?

When I got back to my townhouse, I poured a glass of Balvenie and sipped it neat, thinking about that experience. She had to have the hairiest pussy in all of northern Virginia. I remembered reading somewhere that the hormones that make pussies hairy are the same hormones that are responsible for the female libido.

Well, that fits, I thought. This had to be the horniest bitch in northern Virginia as well as the hairiest. It was the biggest clit I had ever seen.

And she needed it massaged hard to get her orgasm. I wondered when I would get my next call. This might turn out to be an interesting learning experience. Lamont had to stop himself from laughing. He turned the other direction and smirked. Lamont smirked harder and harder, feeling sorry for the man and then something occurred to him as he allowed his massive dong to dangle freely over the urinal without holding it.

The pastor and Lamont finished peeing around the same time and turned towards one another. Lamont purposely allowed his dick to hang out a little longer while the Pastor put his we-we up. Deep down, he was a little intimidated by it. Lamont could tell the pastor noticed and pulled his shorts back up over his soft dick. He loved the facial expressions men with smaller dicks gave him.

Lamont could tell they were intimidated all while being shocked and jealous. Side by side at the sinks, Lamont and Pastor Davis washed their hands and left the restroom. Outside, the pastor introduced his wife to Lamont. Then, he purposely allowed himself to start to get hard. The woman was impressed and fixated with what she saw. Her husband noticed and started pulling her. See you at church. He was sure of that.

Lamont shook his head and went back to his seat with a plot in mind for Mrs. She looked up from her seat and said something and next thing Lamont knew, she was headed his way. Up at the concession stands, Mrs. Davis came up to Lamont and Lamont turned towards her. He bounced it in his short.

After a couple seconds of neither one of them saying anything and Mrs. Davis called Lamont and he was now at her door, around seven thirty on the following Wednesday night. The doorbell rang and she rushed for it, knowing it was Lamont. When she opened it, there he stood under the porch light. He was tall and handsome with nice chocolate skin. His body was muscular but not overworked.

He wore a white wife-beater and sweatpants. Her eyes dropped to his bulge, seeing clearly that the young man was not wearing any underwear. Lamont knew the woman was looking at him like he was a piece of meat and he knew he had so much more meat between his legs than her husband. I like a mystery. Lamont stepped into the house and Mrs. Davis closed the door behind him. He noticed what she was wearing. Lamont liked how her ass cheeks hung out of the bottom of them.

He could tell she was a little nervous, but he wanted to know why. He always talked to his prey before he went in for the kill. Lamont followed the woman through the dining room and to the kitchen.

The woman bit her lip. Usually with the dildo. She thought about it. If I did, it was a real light one. Davis held her hands up and about five to five and a half inches apart. I dated a white guy before I met my husband and he was about this long.

Lamont shook his head again stood up straight. At least he last long right? Maybe six or seven minutes. Ten minutes at the max. Lamont sensed the frustration the woman must be experiencing. So you gotta use a dildo sometime? Lamont grabbed the top of his shorts. Lamont lowered his pants and allowed his massive soft dick to hang down above his huge balls. That little shit yo husband got is sad. Lamont walked closer to her and the only sound that was in the room was of his six and a half inch soft dick swinging and slapping against his thighs as he got closer to her.

Where does his stop? She looked at it for a moment and then put her hand a little below the head. Lamont had measured his dick plenty. He laughed and said. Lamont leaned against the kitchen island while Mrs. Davis sucked on his dick and watched it grow to its full length in front of her. Her slobber dripped from the head and down the shaft. Lamont could tell she was hungry for it.

She got about half of it into her warm mouth and her tongue was crazy. It was obvious she was impressed by it. The woman jumped up, eagerly. Davis leaned over the counter and pulled her shirt off.

Lamont reached and grabbed her panties. He ripped them off. He could see they were soaked where her pussy lips rested. She turned back around, excited, and Lamont lifted his wife-beater over his head and flung it to the floor. He kissed her neck and ear. She could feel his huge dick pressing in-between her legs. Davis trembled at the thought of how deep this was going to feel. Turned on by how authoritative his voice was, Mrs. Davis did just that and Lamont slid his dick between her lips.

The girth alone was impressive. Lamont slowly pushed his dick in, enjoying the tight feeling.

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