Lynn, the woman seated on my left looks a great deal like my wife, Violet, who is seated on my right. Lynn is slightly shorter, a little rounder, but with the same dark almost-curly hair, the same pale skin, the same flashing blue-gray eyes. Sitting here has become impossible. Standing may be more difficult. I am hard, and in emotional distress.

I stand anyway, and push the chair back. They both look up at me, knowing, inquisitive, curious, amused. Sally, the blonde woman running the meeting, looks at me too. Don't even get me started on her. I am surrounded by sexual temptation. I pace, my excitement obvious. They are amused, all of them, even Lynn's husband.

My paranoia gets the best of me. Perhaps this is some plot to excite me, to expose me, to tempt me into an orgy, a scheme worked out by all the rest of them as I worked late at night on my sermons.

My tie is tight, my suit is constricting. I am upset. I cannot breathe. I do not understand my own anxiety. An orgy would not be a bad thing, if that is what they want, I am more than willing. I pace. I am stared at. I am caged.

"Is there something wrong with the table?" Sally asks. The question is obviously directed at me, but she does not wait for an answer. "I rather like this table," she continues dreamily, stroking it almost lovingly with both hands, not waiting for my answer.

Madness. All is madness. I see her spread across the table, suddenly naked, Lynn and Violet and Lynn's husband, and I, yes I, licking, and touching, and fondling her, and then, when she has come, and she will come, I will make her come myself, then Lynn will take her place and I will fuck her, in front of my wife, in front of her husband, in front of Sally I will fuck her hard, comparing her to Violet as I fuck her, as Violet fondles and licks and kisses her I will tell them all how she is different in my best sermonizing prose.

I will describe how her breasts quiver as I ram my large cock up into her small cunt. I will tell them of her wetness, her warmth, her tightness and her trembling. For she will tremble. I will make her tremble, I will fuck her as her husband has never fucked her. For I am better. I must be better. I think I am better. I assume I am better. But what if I am not?

That self-doubt, my friends, is the source of my distress.