I can’t believe what I’m doing!
I know I’ll be going to hell when I die, but I just can’t make myself care. I feel freer and more alive than I ever have. I’m tingling all over.
I’m lying nude on my side in bed with an ex-con named Wade Masterson, the strongest, most masculine man I’ve ever been close to. I have his enormous cock in my right hand, stroking it up and down. He’s telling me how he likes it done — and incredibly, I’m obeying him, shamelessly! My left hand is cupped around his powerful balls, lightly, playfully “bouncing” them up and down.
My poor husband Frank Willis, the minister of Angelfire Baptist Church who preaches about the flames of hell every Sunday, is also naked, tied to a chair facing the bed and watching us. He’s straining to get loose but Wade has him tied so tight and securely it would take him a week to free himself. His eyes are blazing with jealousy but he knows there’s nothing he can do about it.
He’s making these pathetic little whimpering noises, but strangely, his little dick is standing at attention as he watches me applying baby oil and jacking this burly, macho guy.
Even the sound of Wade’s low, resonant voice sends chills rippling through my body. He’s telling me how he wants me to work him.
“Faster . . . . yeah, that’s it faster, faster. . . Okay, now ease up. Slow down. Slower. . . Yeah. Work it nice and slow. . . Okay faster . . . Slower . . .”
And as I try to keep up with his instructions, I keep getting over-excited and losing control. I speed up when he says slow down without meaning to. Just when I settle into a nice jacking rhythm he orders me to change the pace and I can’t keep up.
And worst of all, when I screw up, Wade and I both laugh.
I know it’s so naughty and cruel to laugh and play like this with my poor husband watching, but I just can’t help it. For once in my life I feel free, and this amazing man is the one who’s liberated me.
Wade has a mean streak but instead being distasteful to me, it’s turning me on. I had no idea I was this sinful.
He’s making me do the dirtiest things. And the terrible thing is, no matter how hard I try not to, I’m loving it!
He says: “Tell your wimpy little preacher hubby how it feels to have a REAL man’s dick in your hands.”
And I blush and say, “Oh I can’t. It’s just too mean.”
And he reaches over and gives my bare ass a playful little swat and says sternly: “I said tell him!” And in spite of myself I say, “Ooh! This is the hugest, most magnificent prick in the world and I love to jack it!”
Wade laughs his dirty laugh and shifts his position to give Frank a better view.
“Tell him you’re going to suck my big dick and swallow every drop of my cum,” he says.
And again I blush. “Oh, I can’t say that!” He reaches his hand up again, but before he gives me another slap, I shout it out at the top of my lungs: “I’m going to suck this huge dick and make him shoot his entire load in my mouth.” And as I say it, I feel it free something wild in me. No matter how I try to deny it, I’m loving this!
How did this ever happen? I’ve never in my life used language like that.
This morning, I was the dutiful wife of a strict minister who believed the Bible when it said the wife should submit to her husband. Sex was a duty and I performed it faithfully when Frank wanted it.
I’ve never had a man’s penis in my mouth and the only sex I ever had was with my straight-laced husband in the missionary position.
Now, less than eight hours later, at four in the afternoon, Wade has turned me into an all-out whore who craves his cock and enjoys letting him ravage me in front of Frank.
I guess it started this morning, before the church service started. Frank was spanking me. I had forgotten to set the hymnals out in the pews the night before and Frank made me take my panties down and lie over his lap.
He had the ruler in his hand – the one he uses to smack the hands of the kids who act up in Sunday School.
He was scolding me as he punished me saying “You must learn not to displease God by neglecting your church duties.”
And I think that was when I got the first sinful idea that led to the chain of events that followed. As he administered the painful, humiliating spanking, I caught myself saying silently: “Lord, just once, will you let a big strong man come along and rescue me? Just once I’d like to see Frank go over a strong man’s lap and feel what it’s like to have his bare bottom spanked.”
Immediately, I asked the Lord to forgive my sinful thought. But it was too late. It was out there and I guess the Devil must have heard it.
Later, Frank gave his sermon as usual. But from the choir loft where I sat, I noticed something that wasn’t normal: A big strong hunk of a man in the first row who kept looking at me.
Now, I may have led a sheltered life, but I knew what was on his mind. He made no secret of it. He kept looking me up and down and smiling wickedly at me.
I looked away, but something made me keep looking back at him. He was dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt that did little to hide those impressive arm muscles, sitting with his legs spread, leering at me with no embarrassment at all. And (Jesus forgive me), I noticed there was a huge bulge in the front of those jeans.