~ I know – you’ve all been on pins and needles since we introduced Part I. Let us congregate for the sizzling Second Act of this deliciously sinful story…~
“Mea maxima culpa“, he whispered beneath his breath. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t move.He feared his reaction. He tried in vain to redirect his tortured thoughts.
He thought of Mat 4:1-11….of Jesus’ temptation in the desert by Satan. But his will failed him as he recalled Jesus’ response to Satan saying, “It is written: ‘Man does not live on bread alone.”Perverting His words in doing so.
Subverting his own will as he stood there. The soft sound of her coat slipping from her silken form to the floor was as the sound of a chain falling from a gate. He knew he was lost. Perhaps not for all of his life, but for this night…..he was ruined.
She could feel her body’s response to this. Her nipples ached as if she’d pinched them. Her breasts felt somehow more full than before. Sensitive. Needing the feel of warm, capable hands caressing them and holding them firmly.
Aaron’s boyish attempts never really reached that need in her. And now she could feel a cool droplet of cream run from between her legs along her inner thigh. God the ache of her sex was almost more then she could stand. But she wanted this moment to last. When he’d said that bookish Anthony had gone home earlier she was committed.
She knew she would have him.
He was only in his early 40′s. He had asked for more organic options at the pot lucks and event dinners. It was common knowledge he’d accepted the donation of a small home fitness set when word of his healthy lifestyle was commented on during one of the pastoral meetings her Dad “made” her attend. (Dad was doing me a favor and he hadn’t ever known it.)
And now, her arms around him, she could feel the solid reassurance of him beneath his shirt. She wanted this. More than anything right now she wanted this.
He could feel his body respond. After so long the appetites of a man blur and sink into him, buried by other emotions and impulses. But this, here, her, now…a tempest raging within him, bursting through all manner of reinforcements against it. He sighed, resigning.
That night the life of the priest was irrevocably changed. Where he had once been this woman’s pastoral guide, now she was the one who lead with her sensory wisdom. She moaned, overtaken in her desires as he was. The sound caressed his cock through his ears, curling around his heart and unsettling his stomach on its way down.
His hands fell over her hand just as the other slipped past his embrace, leading a burning trail to his engorged excitement pressing, struggling against the confines of his slacks. Pulling down the zipper she reached within and felt him pulse. Taking him from those confines she held him, stroking and squeezing him.
Again he felt another tide-wall crumble within him beneath her agile fingers. She found him ready, eager as she stroked him. The feeling, for him, was divine.
A gift from God Himself. “We are His children, we are loved, we are understood, we are accepted.” He said to himself, unaware if it carried back to her. But she was listening. She knew now that there would be no uncomfortable yet kind rejection from him. She had his turgid heat in her palm. She was raking the length lightly with her fingertips.
He was always so composed. He always gave so much and asked for nothing. She felt deeply that he deserved this small pastoral reprieve. So quick to respond to her, he’ll let me do this, she thought.
She leaned up and kissed his upper back and shoulders eliciting another deep-bodied (souled?) shiver from him. So responsive! She thought.
Running her fingertip over his cock head tip she felt the viscous droplet she had hoped to find. Taking it to her lips, her tongue reaching out eagerly to taste him. Something no woman had done in over 25 years.
And to her he tasted sweet.
Sweeter than any of the others she’s sucked. She moaned as she savored, allowing her senses to absorb and enjoy him, oblivious to how her sounds effected him. His face expressive of his feelings. The need within him building to such an undeniable level of haze and loss of coherency.
He turned to her wordlessly, inhaling her as he picked her up, cradling her to him. He walked back down the isle towards the door leading to his private section of the parish. Carefully he guided her through to his chambers, kicking the door behind him, hearing, for the first time, a satisfaction in the click of the lock.
He let her down to her feet, holding her to him as she gained her balance. Unbuttoning his shirt he lowered himself, as if to kneel at the alter of her femininity. Leaning forward playing out a deep, forbidden fantasy he’s held cautiously to his heart.
His hands, his heated palms reaching for her thighs and guiding up to grip them firmly.
His body and skin on fire with desire for her. Every sense alive and ravenous for the delights before him. Is this how Eve felt taking the apple? Is this how their first carnal knowledge felt to them?
Smelling her well before getting close he buried his mouth and nose between her soft nest of hair. The swollen and slick lips, pouty and engorged, reaching out to encase the tip of his nose…
***
Oops - Did you miss Part 1?
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I have never read a more accurate article on this subject. I find it very interresting.
Excellently written, I particularly like the way you put a scriptural quote into the story. And it is true, man cannot live on bread alone.
well its a nice and erotic one, I am enjoying it a lot. thanks for sharing it with us.