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Message-ID: <28626asstr$980773804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: One Gallus <onegallus@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Holy Holly 1 (MF, swap, religion)
Date: Mon, 29 Jan 2001 08:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


 
 

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<1st attachment, "Holy Holly 1.txt" begin>



HOLY HOLLY
By One Gallus


I lay in bed reading, waiting for Barb to 
join me.  My expectations were not high.  
In the twenty years we had been married, 
deep sexual pleasure had eluded me.  I had 
repeated the ritual so much I was getting 
tired of it.  Here was the scenario: She 
would come out of the bathroom wearing her 
pajamas. Sometimes they were blue, 
sometimes pink.  She would pull back the 
covers and lie down beside me, turning her 
back.  At times she would come very close 
to me, spooning up against me.  I would 
then began to rub her hip.  She would say 
nothing.  I would slip my hand under the 
waistband of her pajama bottoms and 
massage her naked hip, then her buttocks.  
If she let me do that, so far, so good. 
Then I would pull her pajamas down, 
partially exposing the lower part of her 
ass. It's top half was carefully concealed 
by her pajama shirt.  At the same time, I 
would draw my penis from its pajama fly 
and move toward the bit of nudity that was 
exposed.  I called this the "half-moon" 
position.  I would then hold myself 
against her.  If she were not in the mood 
she would utter a little laugh, then pull 
her pajamas back up over her ass.  

If she were in the mood, she would pull 
her knees up close to her chest, no 
giggle.  This was my signal that I could 
move in.  I would then moisten my fingers 
with saliva and lubricate her vagina.  
Then I would slip into her.  She would 
barely move.  Occasionally, she would work 
herself into a small fervor and press 
against me as I labored.  That told me she 
wanted an orgasm.  I dutifully worked at 
her clitoris with my fingers. Perhaps I 
would let my hands roam freely over her 
body. She took all this without response.  
She was a reclining statue of flesh beside 
me.  She scarcely acknowledged any 
pleasure, except in the final stages of 
coitus, just before her rare climax when 
she would press against me, breathe deeply 
and sigh. Then I would come, and we would 
lie there, recovering.   We would say 
nothing.  I would supply a towel and wipe 
my penis on it as I withdrew.  Then 
quickly she would take the towel and put 
it between her legs.  Then we would sleep.  

I suppose, in the early years, there had 
been times when this ritual might have 
been sensual and gratifying, a happy 
variation of the missionary position.  But 
it had long sense passed into an exercise 
of intermittent relief.  Orgasm had, in 
some sense, become like a bowel movement.  
It was a release, an alleviation of a 
body-need, but it was so very routine and 
it was boring.

One night I had pulled a half-moon on her 
pajamas but she had reached behind her and 
pulled them back up.  Of course I was 
frustrated and we lay silent in bed for 
fifteen minutes. Then I said,  "Barbara?  
You know, other couples enjoy oral sex and 
I would like to do that with you.  Maybe 
it would revive our enthusiasm." She said 
nothing to my suggestion.  I had to ask. 
"Would you try it with me?"

"No, darling, you know I can't do that.  
It's a.  It's an unnatural act.  It's an 
abomination in the eyes of the Lord and I 
just can't bring myself to do it."  She 
had refused me before, but she'd never 
before given me an explanation.  She was a 
very religious woman and attended a 
thriving Pentecostal church here in 
suburban Toledo.  

"Hon, anything we do between us is not 
unnatural," I said.  I ventured a new 
argument, "God made the animals, and they 
do it.  Haven't you ever seen dogs licking 
one another?"

"Ralph!" she gasped.

I thought about telling her that on the 
rare occasions she does let me fuck her, 
it was always like a dog, from behind, but 
I was afraid she might even cancel that.  
So, I said no more.  Besides, you don't 
say "fuck" around Barbara.

In any case, with all those refusals, 
spoken and unspoken, I found myself 
growing testy and short-tempered. 
Eventually there had been a terrible 
argument.  I had pulled away and not 
accosted her for several weeks.  I knew 
she felt my anger and it was bothering her 
for I had heard her praying aloud behind 
the door of the guest bedroom on several 
occasions.  Hardly a word was passing 
between us and never a touch.  

However, there came a day when things were 
somehow different. I could feel it when I 
walked in the door that afternoon.  The 
mood was lighter.  Barb came into the 
vestibule smiling.  Her hands were sticky 
with food.  But she lifted her arms to my 
shoulders and crossed them behind my neck, 
fingers extended, so as not to soil my 
shirt.  She kissed me and said, "I've 
fixed Mexican food tonight."  She knew it 
was my favorite.  During the meal, she had 
smiled at me several times and touched me 
affectionately on her rounds in the 
kitchen.  I conceded to myself that I 
could use even a half-moon tonight.

I lay waiting for her in the bed at ten-
thirty that night.  To my surprise, Barb 
came out of the bathroom in a black 
negligee.  Of course, I was delighted.  
She stood posing by the side of the bed, 
smiling seductively.  She obviously wanted 
to make this a special night, a kind of 
reconciliation.  Within her limited vision 
of sex, I supposed, this was to be 
special.  But I would take it.  I would 
take anything she did that was a break in 
the routine.  Through the gauzy material, 
I saw the dark outlines of her public 
hair.  In anticipation, I developed an 
immediate erection.  

Then she surprised me again.  "Darling, 
would you stand up a moment?  She extended 
her hand and I took it, scooting across 
her side of the bed to stand in front of 
her.  She seemed a little hesitant for a 
moment, then took a deep breath.  "Ralph, 
would you undress me?"  

I grinned.  "Sure baby."  I put my hands 
on her shoulders and kissed her tenderly 
on the lips.   Unexpectedly she pushed her 
tongue between my lips and licked. I 
backed away and studied her face for a 
moment.  She smiled.  I moved quickly, 
jerking open the waist-tie on her 
negligee.  However, Barb said,  "Take it 
slow, Ralph, I want it slow."  

Well, I did slow up, and as I undressed 
her, she intermittently grasped my hand to 
hold me still for a moment and kiss me.  
This happened right after I untied her 
negligee, then again when I pulled it off 
over her shoulders.  She kissed me again 
when I lifted her gown waist high.  Each 
time she kissed me, Barb ran her tongue 
deep into my mouth.  This time, with her 
gown up around her waist, she groped for 
my penis, found it and gently squeezed it.  
This was more like it, I thought.  To see 
her in this revealing nightwear, to feel 
her tongue exploring my mouth and her hand 
stroking me was a delicious alien 
experience to me.  With enough of this 
kind of treatment, and I could forego the 
oral sex indefinitely.

After many a pause and many a caress, I 
finally made her naked. Then she then 
pulled my own pajama bottoms down and 
knelt in front of me.  "Barb!" I said.

She only looked at me and smiled.  She 
encircled my penis with her fingers and 
moved them lightly up and down its shaft.  
Then she caressed my foreskin, moving it 
around gently over my glans.  Then, 
peeling the skin back and holding it taut, 
she touched her tongue to the head, first 
on one spot, then another.  Each time she 
did this, she looked up at me watching my 
eyes.  Finally, she put it all into her 
mouth.  She slurped and sucked, holding my 
face with her hot eyes. I almost came, 
whether from the sucking, or from the 
shock, I could not tell, but I loved it. 

"Oh sweetheart, you're so wonderful, thank 
you," I said.  

"Lay down, Ralph."  

I got into bed and moved to my side.  She 
followed me, backing her naked body into 
mine. Obviously, she took pleasure in the 
"spoon" position, but tonight it was 
different.  I felt the firm angled end of 
her butt digging into my abdomen.  My cock 
felt like it was in hot butter.  She 
jabbed at me with her butt, groaning 
loudly.  "Oh babe," she said, pounding me 
hard.  "Ahhhh, she exhaled.  "God, that's 
good.  Oh God that's so good!" poking me 
with her ass each time I thrust.  I had 
never heard Barb use the word "God" in 
other way except in reverence.

 Suddenly I felt her fingers slip over the 
end of my cock.  She had inserted them 
into herself, then around and over my 
penis. They began a gentle but lively 
dance as I thrust through them. Suddenly 
my orgasm collided with me, and as I 
spasmed, I simply could not get into her 
far enough.  I pulled and pulled at her 
hips and she squirmed like a fish against 
me till we were finished and famished. We 
lay for a while, panting, then breathing 
deeply, and then breathing regularly.

Finally I asked her, "Barb, Honey, what's 
come over you?  That was wonderful!"  

"Well," she said, "I guess you'd say, I've 
been seeing a counselor."

"Really?  I didn't think you'd ever talk 
to a therapist."

"No!  Not a therapist, I couldn't do that.  
I talked to.  Well, I talked to somebody 
at church."

"At church?"  I raised myself on one 
elbow.  "God, Barb, you didn't go to that 
preacher for counseling did you?" The 
preacher was an extremely handsome man.  
He was tall and lean, tan and athletic and 
wore his hair smooth and full, like a 
fluffy helmet.  There was not a hair out 
of place.  Frankly, I was jealous.  

"No, no, darling!" she said,  "I talked to 
Holly, his wife.  I didn't think I could 
talk to Brother Forester.  I mean, his 
being on television and all, almost a 
celebrity.  But his wife is the nicest 
person.  She's so down to earth and really 
friendly."

"Really?" I said incredulously, thinking 
it over.  After a moment I said, "Well, 
good for her!" Then I thought some more, 
"And good for us!"  Then I kissed my wife 
and got a mouthful of tongue for my 
trouble.  


I thought about Holly Forester.  She made 
occasional appearances on television with 
her husband as a singer.  I had seen her 
at church when I attended services with 
Barb.  Holly had a bushy head full of 
curly, almost kinky, red hair.  "Sister" 
Forester wore form-fitting clothing, and 
her form was quite shapely.  Her bust was 
not unusually large, and her ass was not 
what you'd call gigantic, but her hips 
were broader and her butt a bit plumper 
than modern starvation standards would 
allow. 

Holly, I reflected, knew something about 
being subtle.  Her clothes only approached 
elegance, so she never appeared 
overdressed or extravagant.  Her manner 
stopped just a fraction short of what most 
people called "sexy."  However, in my own 
eyes, she was utterly sexy.  No pastor's 
wife ought to have so shapely a pair of 
legs.  She enhanced this beauty by wearing 
skirts just on the verge of being short.  
Her hose were always complementary in 
color to her skirt or dress.  They were a 
kind of stocking I had never seen my wife 
wear.  Barb called them "naked heel" hose, 
the kind with no dark reinforcement sewn 
in.  Then to emphasize the nakedness of 
the heel, Holly Forester would wear 
backless high heel shoes.  It was the kind 
with only the front part of the shoe 
enclosing her foot.  Usually her big toe 
peeked out the end, so her feet were 
exposed at the heel and exposed at the 
toe.  When she sang solos at her church, 
my eyes were glued to her legs and feet.

However, I must add that Holly's face 
detracted from a positive overall effect.  
She was a bit over forty and the natural 
coarsening of the skin had just set in, as 
it did in the majority of women that age 
(and most men).  Yet, most women would add 
a bit of color here and there, shorten the 
hair and sweep it upward.  This would have 
the affect of a settled mature 
attractiveness.  This was not true with 
Holly.  Nor was it true with half the 
women at that church, forty and older.  
They wore their hair down and long, like 
teenagers or twenty-year-old women. In my 
view, only a few extraordinarily beautiful 
mature women can get away with this. Then, 
when you consider the minus, the fact that 
these church ladies used no makeup, an 
otherwise handsome woman would be lost in 
pre-grannyhood.  It seemed to me that my 
wife's church was a throw back the latter 
part of the nineteenth century.  
Obviously, those women were aping the 
pastor's wife in appearance.  Happily, my 
wife did not.  However, if Holly Forester 
was giving encouragement to oral sex, then 
who was I to put her down?  

A few days later, Barb came to me, 
embraced me and said, "Darling, you know 
I've been with Holly Forester quite a bit 
here lately."  

"Yes, thank God!" I said, grinning.

"Well," she said, "I guess I spoke too 
quickly, but I happen to mention about 
your dad dying a few months ago, and let 
slip that you'd inherited quite a sum from 
him."

"Yes?"  I said, feeling very wary.

"Well, I mentioned that we were looking 
for a good, safe investment, and Holly 
said she and Brother Forester would like 
to share an opportunity with us."

"Oh Barb!  Why did you leak that out?  We 
can't afford to give away any of that 
money!  You give at least ten percent of 
our income there already!"  I tore myself 
from her arms and walked over to the 
kitchen cabinet, leaned against it and 
seethed."

She stood with her head down.  "I know, I 
should have talked with you first."  Then 
she raised her head to look at me.  "But 
this would not be a contribution we're 
talking about.  It's an investment.  I 
suppose you can be a pastor and have a 
good sense of business too, don't you 
think?"

I thought.  And I realized, she was right.  
Just because it was a church didn't make 
it a bad business deal.  I might as well 
give an ear to Forester.  No harm done.  I 
didn't have to invest if I didn't like it.  
I needed to keep my mind open.  Otherwise, 
I might be passing up a good opportunity.  
Besides, his wife told my wife to suck me 
off.  Surely, I owed him something for 
that!  I shrugged and said, "Well, maybe 
you're right, babe.  It couldn't hurt to 
listen, I suppose.  I've got to put the 
money somewhere.  Why don't you invite him 
over?"

"They'll be here tomorrow night for 
refreshments, both of them."  

Damn! I thought, my woman knows me too 
well!  

That next night, waiting for the Foresters 
to arrive I sat in the living room and 
Barb stood in the doorway.  I chided her a 
little, "How come the ladies at your 
church look like death warmed over, Barb? 
Can't they afford make-up after giving 
Edwin Forester their money?"  

"Hush!" she scolded, "There's no rule on 
makeup anymore like there was when I was 
growing up.  It's just that some women 
don't want to emphasize the externals."  

I stood up, "Well, I like you in make-up.  
And I like everything else that makes your 
externals pretty.  In fact, come here, I 
want to feel of your external's right 
now!" I teased.  I cupped my hands, held 
them breast-high and headed toward Barb.  
She playfully slapped at them and backed 
up.

"Don't do that!  They'll be here any 
minute!"  I chuckled and gave up.  Now," 
she said, "I'm thinking that you men can 
talk business in the den and Holly and I 
will go into the living room or kitchen 
and have our woman talk.  I'll bring in 
refreshments later."  

"Humph," I muttered, and the doorbell 
rang.  

I went to the door and opened it. Edwin 
Forester's hair was a brown charcoal color 
with a whitening at the temples.  In 
between, his lean face looked as though a 
cubist had put it together, all angles and 
planes and squares.  He wore a cashmere 
sweater with a V-neck.  His caramel-
colored shirt and solid dark tie 
complemented his dark brown slacks.  He 
wore cordovan loafers with tassels.  
Forester looked like a movie star on 
vacation.  His wife, in all her plain-
faced glory stood next to him, looking as 
if she had just risen from the dead.  For 
the first time I noticed her nose had a 
little crook, or bump on it. She was 
dressed in a caramel shirt as well, and a 
deep green skirt, almost black.  I 
immediately looked at her feet.  Those 
open heeled shoes also came in cordovan, I 
saw, with small brass studs along the 
edge.  Holly carried a small leather 
valise in her hand.  

Blinded by two sets of perfect teeth, I 
stepped aside, smiled, and said, "Come in 
Reverend, come in Mrs. Forester."   

The pastor grasped my hand firmly and 
shook it.  "Oh my word, Ralph!  We've 
known each other long enough that you can 
call me Edwin, and I think Holly will 
permit you to address her by her Christian 
name!"  He looked at Holly who cocked here 
head and smiled at me.

I had known this couple only through my 
wife who attended their church.  I went 
with her on occasions, but there had been 
no regular contact, in spite of Forester's 
familiarity.  "Well, thank you, come in 
and have a seat," I said.  I turned to 
lead them through the door to the den.  "I 
think we're supposed to get some coffee 
and pecan pie in a little while.  
Meanwhile, we can visit."

Barb came forward and embraced and kissed 
Holly.  "Holly, you and I can go back to 
the kitchen and talk, and leave it to the 
men," she said warmly.  
 
"Well, Barbara," said the reverend, "If 
you don't mind, I'd like to keep Holly 
with me.  She knows as much about this 
stuff as I do.  Actually, she knows more.  
All I do is preach."  We all laughed at 
this, but I can't imagine why.  

Edwin sat down on the den's leather couch.  
He looked at me and patted the seat beside 
him.  I sat down.  Holly laid her valise 
on the coffee table in front of us.  Two 
upholstered green-plaid chairs were on the 
opposite side and Holly scooted hers up 
toward the table, "Is this all right, 
Barb?" she asked.  "I need to be close to 
the table."

"Sure" said Barb, and sat down in the 
other chair, right where it was.

"Now," said Edwin, placing his splayed 
fingers each against its opposite, "I have 
always had the dream to preach the gospel 
on television."

"Well, you're already living your dream," 
I said, "That's more than most of us get 
to do."  I smiled at him, then looked at 
Holly and smiled at her.  I hoped I was 
sending her a signal of gratitude with my 
eyes.  I felt an affinity for her even if 
I was apprehensive about her husband.  She 
had crossed her legs, and her skirt was 
riding a bit above her knees.  Her hose 
had a dark cast to them that let the pale 
glow of her skin seep through a mesh of 
deep green.  The calf of her outer leg was 
flattened a bit against her inner knee.   
 From her small foot, her shoe dangled.  
When I looked up she was smiling at me, 
looking me straight in the eye.   

"Yes," said Edwin, "But my dream includes 
more than channel 89 in Toledo, Ohio.  I 
want to spread my outreach up into Detroit 
and Canada.  Then I want to take it south, 
through Dayton and on into Cincinnati.  
Holly has stations lined up all along 
Interstate 75 and she has negotiated with 
stations as far north as Toronto.  My 
ministry will truly be international," he 
said, pressing the third syllable of the 
last word through his nose.

"Well, Ralph," said Holly, "That's our 
plan, but I think we'll concentrate on the 
larger United States cities first.  That's 
where the market is." 

"Market?"  I said.

"Yes, we have to look at it that way.  
You'll have to have a return on your 
investment, otherwise, it would be a 
gift."

I will say one thing for Holly, she gets 
right to the point.  I glanced down at her 
legs. I could have sworn her skirt was 
slightly higher then than it was a moment 
before.  I looked at Barb.  Her gaze was 
fixed on her pastor.  She sat primly with 
her knees together, her hands in her lap, 
quite nervous.  She had thought she was 
going to be in on girl-talk.  Now she was 
listening to high finance, at least it was 
high to me.  

"Now, Ralph," Holly said, smiling coyly 
and uncrossing her legs, "We'll take the 
gift, but I don't think that's really what 
you had in mind."  Her skirt was still 
high, and her knees were not together.  I 
could see her gorgeous thighs just meeting 
before disappearing up into her skirt.

Investments would provide the expansion, 
she said, and contributions would provide 
the income. She continued her spiel, 
noting what $200,000 would return, what 
$300,000 would return, and so on, in 
increments of $100,000.  When she reached 
$400,000 I stopped her.  "Oh, Holly, 
that's high enough!  I never dreamed you'd 
go that far," I said.  

"Well," she said, her face seeming to be a 
featureless plain, "We'll go as far as our 
faith can take us!"

"Your faith Holly?" I said playfully,  
"Remember, this is a business deal to me!"

"Oh Ralph," she said, tucking her chin, 
"you know every business deal is an act of 
faith.  The Lord wants action and when we 
act, we are to be as `wise as serpents.'" 
I could not believe it, but this 
Pentecostal preacher's wife cocked her 
head and winked at me.  At the same time, 
she darted the tip of her tongue out of 
her mouth and touched her colorless upper 
lip.

Holly went on to declare that her husband 
was a far better spokesman than many 
better-known TV evangelists were.  That 
was true.  I am a high school speech 
teacher, so I know what goes into making a 
good speech.  Forester had a way of 
bringing up an everyday situation by way 
of a real-life story.  Then he would 
progress to other similar situations with 
which most people could identify.  Then, 
just when you thought that all you were 
going to do was hear a series of human-
interest anecdotes, he would call 
attention to an event in the Bible that 
showed the same principle at work.  He 
would then contrast that with Bible 
doctrine and slam home his point, no 
wasted words, no blustering, and no fill-
in hallelujahs.  He was a master of his 
craft.  He commanded the respect of his 
colleagues.  The Toledo Blade quoted him 
often in its religious pages.  He had, 
under Holly's firm hand, as it seemed now, 
a flawless financial reputation. 

Holly went on to point out that her 
husband's local television program was 
bringing in more and more donations every 
week, far exceeding the cost of production 
and the cost of operating the local 
church.  And even that, she observed, was 
growing by leaps and bounds.   She offered 
"several lucrative alternatives" of return 
on the investment, depending on "how you 
want to handle it."

"Holly, Holly," I said in an indulgent 
tone, "I'm just a school teacher.  My 
father was a teacher too, but he was a 
wise manager and left me a large sum.  
It's really all I have.  I am a babe in 
the woods on these matters.  I would have 
to talk with an accountant and maybe a 
lawyer before I made such a move.  But, I 
will say this, it looks attractive and I 
am not saying no at this point.  I just 
need some time to mull it over and talk to 
some people."  I glanced at Barbara who by 
now had crossed her legs and showed a 
pretty knee of her own.  She sat looking 
at her pastor with rapt attention.  I 
looked at him.  He was looking at his 
wife. 

Holly laid papers on the coffee table, and 
put some others back into her valise.  She 
stood up and said, "Let's have some pecan 
pie!"

I stood and then Edwin and my wife stood.  
Barbara said, "Now, I'll just be a little 
while," and trotted off to the kitchen.  

"Who plays the piano?" Holly said, eyeing 
the baby grand at the end of the room.

"Oh, I do, a little," I said. 

"Do you know, `I'll Meet You in the 
Morning?'" she asked, padding over to the 
piano.  She had kicked off her shoes 
behind the coffee table.  I noticed she 
had no polish on her toenails.  The size 
and shape of her feet were absolutely 
exquisite. I watched with fascination as 
her green "naked heels" flashed at me 
while I followed her to the piano.

"Well, no, I don't ordinarily play church 
music," I said. 

"Holly wants to sing, Ralph," said the 
preacher.  "Just give her a key and chord 
along while she sings."  

"Oh!  Can do!" I said, leading the way to 
the piano. "Barb has a hymn-book from the 
church.  We'll look it up."  I lifted the 
seat on the piano bench and retrieved the 
hymnal.  I found the song and I sat down 
and played several chords, waiting for 
Holly to begin."

Holly turned to her husband and said, 
"Edwin, why don't you go in there and give 
Barbara a hand?  You need to talk with her 
about the Ladies' Class, remember?"

"OK," said Edwin.  "I almost forgot."  He 
traced my wife's footsteps to the kitchen.  

"I'll meeeeeet you in the morniiing, with 
a howwww-do-you-doooo." Holly sang out.  
Her style was country, very full and 
exuberant, a bit like Reba McIntyre.  But 
she could carry a tune, and perform with 
verve.  I found her key and chorded as she 
sang.  On the second verse, I felt her 
hands on my shoulders, squeezing them 
slightly with the beat.  They remained 
there through the whole song. 

We tried another song.  She didn't know 
the words to this one, so she put her left 
hand on my shoulder and bent over the 
other one, bringing her eyes closer to the 
book.  Her left breast was brushing 
against my right shoulder as she sang.  My 
cock tightened up.  I wondered if she 
realized what she was doing.  When we came 
to the end of the song, Holly said, "Oh 
Ralph, I just love to do that!" and she 
rubbed her breast against my shoulder.

I tried to keep my cool, tried not to 
misinterpret, "Yes, the old hymns are nice 
aren't they?"  I looked up at her and 
smiled.  Her face was very close, even out 
of focus.

"Oh, they are, and you play so well!"  She 
winked at me for the second time.  Then 
she put her face next to mine and half-
whispered to me.  I felt her lips moving 
against my ear.  "I hear you and Barb are 
enjoying each other a bit more here 
lately!"  She squeezed my shoulders.  Then 
she came around to sit beside me on the 
bench, reaching out with her hands for the 
keys.  

My foot was still on a pedal and as she 
played I felt her foot tap mine once.  She 
looked at me and smiled.  "I think sex is 
God's gift to men and women and we ought 
to make the most of it," she said, in a 
low voice.  

"I can agree with that, Holly," I said.  I 
was letting her take the lead on this, as 
she had everything else this night. She 
began to softly chord the melody of  "Just 
As I Am." 

"Well," she said, cocking her head and 
twisting around to leer into my eyes, "How 
was it?" she asked, softly chording 

"How was what?" I asked, deciding to take 
the lead.  I wondered what she'd say.  

"You know, Ralph, the sex!"  Her voice was 
low and husky.

"Barb and I have had sex for many years, 
Holly, what do you mean?"  I was not going 
to let her off the hook.  

She moved her hands from the keys and 
leaned into me, again bringing her lips to 
my ear.

"How was it," she breathed, "when she 
sucked you?" 

I looked at her and raised my eyebrows.  
She looked drunk, smiling at me crookedly, 
but if she were drunk it was on something 
besides alcohol.  She had been sharp 
during her sales pitch. I didn't know what 
was coming down, but I liked it, and my 
cock was rock hard.  Then we heard Barb 
and Edwin coming and she leaned back, 
stood up and faced them.  For my part, I 
played "Zippadee-Do-Dah" while my cock 
deflated.  Then I pivoted around to face 
my audience.  

"Let's eat at the kitchen table," said 
Barb.  She looked a little flushed.  I 
wondered, guiltily, if she had seen Holly 
whispering in my ear.  I looked carefully 
at her, but couldn't detect strain.  At 
the table, Barb placed us men at right 
angles to the ladies and she served up the 
pie and coffee.  Pastor Forester blessed 
the pie and we started to eat.

"Ummm, this is good!" said Holly, chewing 
and licking her lips.  "I believe that 
pecan pie is God's gift to men and women."  
Then she passed her tongue over her lips 
again and nudged my foot with hers.  "Tell 
me, Barb," she said, "Did you agree to 
teach Ladies Class?"  

"Ladies Class?" asked Barb.  "Did someone 
ask me to teach Ladies Class?"

Edwin blushed and said to Holly, "Oh, we 
got to talking about something else, hon, 
I didn't think to bring it up."  Barb 
blushed crimson.

"Well, you two need to get together and go 
over the material.  I know you'd do a good 
job, Barb."

"I'm flattered," said Barb, "But I really 
don't think I'm qualified.  What are you 
going to study?"   She turned back to 
Edwin.  

"Well," said Edwin, "Sister Martinez has 
been teaching on the Holy Ghost, but Holly 
suggested we try a more practical approach 
this quarter, maybe something on the 
husband and wife relationship."

Holly's toe made a little dent on the top 
of my shoe.  "That's a good subject," 
Holly smiled, and looked at me.

As we bade goodbye to the Foresters that 
night, I felt like I had been engaging in 
sexual foreplay for two hours.  Evidently, 
Barb had caught the same spirit because as 
the door shut, she came to me, embraced 
me, and pushed her pelvis into my hips, 
massaging my butt.  She said, "What do you 
think, Ralph, was the evening worthwhile?"   

"Oh yes, darling, the evening was worth 
it.  They gave me something to think 
about."

"Me too," she said, huskily.  Her hand 
slipped into the tightness between our 
abdomens and down to my penis where she 
fingered me through my pants.  

"I don't know what it is, babe," she said 
through her teeth, "but I want to suck you 
off, and I want to do it right now," she 
said.

I ran my palms over my wife's ass and 
pulled her closer.  "Is that all?"

"No."

"What else?" I said as she squirmed 
against me.  

"I want you to suck me off," Barb said.



After the sex, we lay naked on top of the 
bed.  Barb said, "So, what do you think?  
Do you believe I could teach the Ladies 
Class."

"Umm, baby, will you teach them to do unto 
their husbands and you have done unto me?"  

She kissed me.  I could taste the residue 
of my semen from her mouth.  "I can taste 
myself on your lips," I said.  

She licked her lips, "I don't know whether 
I'm tasting you or tasting me," she said.

"Well, let's make sure," I said.  Since I 
had brought her to climax with my mouth 
there was no semen in or on her vagina.  
Still lying on my side I gently slipped my 
thumb into her, my fingers cupping over 
her anus.  She was wet with my saliva and 
her own secretions.  I squished my thumb 
around inside and her wetness made a 
little sucking sound.  I repeated it, and 
we both broke up into laughter.  When we 
quieted, I brought my glistening thumb out 
of her and lifted it to her lips.  She 
opened and I inserted it. I felt her 
tongue moving.  Then she sucked gently, 
then very hard.  "Ummm," she said.

"My, my, aren't you the liberated one?" I 
said.  

"You know," said Barb, "Just being around 
Holly and Edwin makes me feel sexy.  Am I 
silly, Ralph?  Do you know what I mean?"

"Well, I think so," I lied.  I knew 
precisely what she meant.



I attended church with Barbara on Sunday.  
Edwin, as usual, was in top form. Holly 
herself gave a rendition of the "Old 
Rugged Cross" that brought the whole 
congregation to tears, including me.  I 
gazed at her long frizzy red hair, caught 
between the spotlight in front and the 
floodlight behind her. From ten rows back 
I examined her light-blue dress.  It 
followed her form effortlessly, as if 
there had been no contrivance to sexiness.  
Yet, I was mesmerized. Several times, I 
thought she might be looking squarely at 
me.  Between Holly's singing and Edwin's 
emotional sermon, I felt myself being 
drawn into a most mysterious mood.

Here, I thought, was a fully sexual woman, 
and yet a spiritual woman.  She could be 
sensual, obviously engage in oral sex with 
her husband, (and only God knew what other 
wonderful indulgences they enjoyed).  Yet, 
she complemented her husband's ministry so 
well.  Her down-to-earth friendliness and 
warmth counterbalanced his aloof manner 
and celebrity bearing.   She could be 
playful and flirt comfortably and 
confidently with her friends, even in 
front of her husband.  Obviously he 
trusted her.  She could even strengthen 
other marriages by her non-traditional 
common sense counseling.  She had 
certainly helped Barbara's and my 
marriage.  For the very first time in my 
life, I considered joining a church.  

However, I had never been a religious 
person.  I did have a sense of moral duty, 
but I could never understand the 
commitment of my wife and other people 
like her.  Perhaps I was coming to an 
understanding.  Of course, putting my 
father's money into the church's treasury, 
even as an investment, would interlace my 
own interests with that of the church.  I 
still had not consulted a qualified 
outside party for their input.  I resolved 
I would take care of it sometime this 
week.  

Monday morning had not released me from 
the enigmatic mood of the day before.  I 
went to the school, as if in a cloud, 
feeling a heavy, yet strangely gentle 
burden on my shoulders.  That day, I found 
the kids hanging on every word I said.  
Even the teachers seemed drawn to me.  My 
memory of the text and lesson plan was 
sharp and flawless.  Explanatory examples 
came to my mind spontaneously and without 
effort. I could not understand it!  The 
last class period was my teachers' prep 
period, and though I was supposed to 
remain at school for possible tutoring, I 
felt the urge to leave early.  However, I 
would not sneak out, I never had.  I 
knocked on the principal's door.  "Mark," 
I said, "Something important has come up 
and I really feel the need to leave right 
now."  

Surprising me, he said, "No problem, 
Ralph," and lifted his right hand, like a 
benediction.  I went out to my ten year 
old Jeep Wrangler.  It started on the 
first click of the key.  I drove, not 
knowing where I was headed.  However, I 
was not surprised at myself at all as I 
pulled up into the church parking lot.  I 
looked at my watch.  It was three-thirty.  
My heart was beating fast and strong as I 
opened the jeep's door.  I climbed the 
broad steps up to the smoked glass doors 
and opened it resolutely.  When I did, I 
jerked a woman violently out of the 
church, hanging onto the steel bar for 
dear life.  She lurched and dropped the 
books she'd been carrying.  She came to 
rest with her legs akimbo, just to keep 
her balance.   

"Oh my, I'm sorry!" I said, "Are you 
hurt?"

"Oh no, I'm OK," she said, smiling weakly.  
She looked into my face.  She was only 
twenty-five or twenty-six-years-old.  She 
had a knock-out figure and wore tight-
fitting clothes.  Her hair was blonde and 
frizzy, a bush, just like Holly's.  The 
face was scrubbed fresh and her cheeks 
were rosy.  Her lips wore no artificial 
color.  She was beautiful. 

"I.ah.I'm looking for the pastor's 
office," I said, picking up her books.  
She blushed,  "Oh, I'm sorry, he just left 
for the day, only about ten minutes ago.  
Can I help you?  I'm Jamie, the 
secretary."

"No, I guess not, Jamie.  I needed to see 
the pastor.  I'll come back another time."

"Well, the assistant pastor is here," she 
said.

I thought about it.  It might be easier to 
explore my feelings with a stranger.  I 
was not really drawn to Edwin.  I just 
needed a professional's opinion.  "That 
might be just fine," I said.  Which way do 
I go?"

"Come on, I'll take you," she said, still 
holding on to the door.

"No, you obviously are in a hurry to get 
somewhere. I've delayed you long enough. 
Just point me in the right direction."

"Turn left and follow the hallway.  It'll 
curve around the sanctuary and just before 
you get to the end, you'll see a door on 
your left.  That's it!" she smiled.

"OK, go ahead, don't let me detain you," I 
said.

"No, the door is supposed to lock behind 
you, so don't come back out and try to get 
back in," she laughed.  "I'll make sure it 
latches. That's a part of my lock-up 
routine.  Checking all the doors."

I smiled and walked in and turned left, 
hearing the door click after a few steps.  
It was an enormous church, seating over 
two thousand people.  I remembered Sunday 
that almost every seat was filled.  As I 
rounded the curve the light from the doors 
receded. I walked down a rather dim 
corridor, looking from side to side.  Sure 
enough, there was a door at the very end, 
on the left.  It was unmarked.  I tapped 
gently.  No one responded.  I opened it 
up, revealing a small outer office with a 
computer terminal on a secretary's desk.  
The door of the inner office was open, but 
there was no sound.  I wondered if the 
secretary had been right.  I looked in to 
the spacious office, which was furnished 
in simple elegance.  I saw a large walnut 
desk on the right.  An empty, oversized 
leather chair sat behind it, two side 
chairs in front of it.  A computer sat on 
a credenza behind the desk.  Except for a 
bit of light filtering through the drawn 
drapes, the office was quite dim.  I 
looked to left.  There was a long leather 
couch against the wall.  On it lay Holly 
Forester.  She was on her side, her head 
on a large white pillow. She was wearing a 
simple gray dress.  As she lay, the dress 
had ridden up mid-thigh, and her feet were 
bare.   Two back-less high-heeled shoes 
lay in a tumble.  They were clear plastic.  
I was startled and before I could catch 
myself, I said, "Holly?"

She sat up, blinked and wiped her eyes 
with her thumb and forefinger.  She 
smiled, "Is that you, Ralph?" she said, 
her voice sleepy.  

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Holly, I must 
have the wrong room.  I was looking for 
the assistant pastor."

"You've found her," she smiled.

"Really?  You are the assistant pastor?"

"In the flesh," she smiled, cocking her 
head, coyly. "What can I do for you?  Did 
you decide to take us up on our offer?"

"Oh, no.  Sorry Holly, I'm still mulling.  
Ahh.what do you do, anyway, just handle 
the financial end of things?"

"Well, no, not altogether.  That was a 
talent I only discovered recently."  She 
shifted around to the edge of the couch 
and put the balls of her feet on the 
carpet, her heels lifted high, as if she 
were wearing an invisible pair of high 
heels.  I stared at her feet.  There were 
no stockings.  I looked up at her face.  
She was smiling, looking straight at me.  
Her skirt was actually very high on her 
legs now.  Then she sat back, putting her 
shoulders against the couch back and 
stretching her legs out straight, pointing 
her toes.  My eyes returned to her feet.  
She wiggled her toes.  "Something 
bothering you, Ralph?"

"No.well, yes," I said, trying to 
recapture my feelings before I came 
through the office door.  "Ahh, you 
counseled my wife."  

"Well, yes I did.  And you never really 
told me how things were going between you.  
We were.interrupted with pecan pie, as I 
remember."

"Why were you lying down?" I asked.

"What?" she said, looking as though the 
question took her by surprise.  

"You were asleep."

"Oh, I didn't think there would be anyone 
else in on Monday.  It's not a very busy 
day after Sunday.  Edwin has gone, and the 
secretary takes off early on Monday.  I 
stay here in case someone rings the 
doorbell.  I guess you caught me with my 
pants down," she grinned, "so to speak."

"We're just fine." I said.

"What?" She looked puzzled.

"Barb and I, we're just fine."

"Oh!" she laughed, "I'll bet you are."

"Frankly, I was a little surprised."

"Yeah, I told her she ought to `get naked 
and get down.'"

"You did?  You used those words?" I felt 
myself grinning.

"Sit down, Ralph.  Come over here and sit 
with me on the couch.  I never counsel 
from behind the desk.  I don't want any 
barriers between me and the person I'm 
trying to help.  No, I didn't."

"Didn't what?" I sat down by her.  Her 
legs were still stretched out with her 
back to the couch and her heels on the 
floor.

"Didn't tell her to `get naked and get 
down,' in those words at least.  I told 
her God wanted her to please her man and 
God wanted you to please your woman, how's 
that?  That's Bible Ralph, I can prove 
it!"

"I see, you were more diplomatic with her 
than you were with me."

"I was diplomatic with you."

"No you were not."

"What did I say?" she asked.  

"You asked, and I quote, `How was it when 
she sucked you?'"

Holly giggled, tucked her chin, and cut 
her eyes toward me, "Well?"

"What?"

"How was it when she sucked you?"  She 
shifted again.  This time she pivoted her 
body toward me, bringing her right knee up 
into the couch, keeping the other leg 
extended. 

I kept my eyes resolutely on hers.  "It 
was like heaven."

"See, who says I'm not a spiritual guide?"

"But she was so inexperienced in fellatio, 
yet when she did it to me."

"Oh-ho, Ralph, you knew the difference in 
a good one and a bad one?"

"Well, Holly, I've been around, you know, 
in my younger years."

"Uh-huh.  So now, judging from your expert 
experience, she did a pretty good job, 
huh?"

"Yes!  But how could she go from a 
prudish. p.p."

"Pentecostal?" 

"Well, yes."

"Well, not all us Pentecostals are so 
prudish.  I wasn't raised that way."

"But she was!"

"Well, I trained her," said Holly.

"You mean.you mean, with a man?"

"No," she guffawed, shaking her head.  
"Ralph, do you really want to know?"

"Yes," I chuckled, "I really want to 
know."

She looked at her naked feet a moment, 
wiggling her toes, thinking.

"OK, I did it with this" and she held out 
her thumb, erect, in front of her face. 

I laughed. "She sucked your thumb?" I 
leaned my head back on the couch this time 
and stretched out my own legs.  "Oh Holly, 
now you're putting me on."

She looked closely at my face. "You think 
so?"  Her lips were puckered in a smile.  
Her eyes darted back and forth between my 
eyes.

"Aren't you?"

 "Ralph, hold up your fist, like this." 
She made a fist again, with her thumb 
erect. I imitated her. 

I hesitated.  Then I reluctantly made a 
fist and in front of me, gazing at my 
erect thumb.  I looked at her, and she was 
gazing too, her mouth open slightly and 
smiling.

She hesitated.

"Well?" I asked.

Then she reached for my thumb and 
encircled it with her fingers.  I looked 
at her face.  Her mouth puckered again, 
but she still smiled.  Color flushed 
through her cheeks.  She cocked her head, 
looking at her hand around my thumb.  She 
ran her hand up and down the shaft of my 
thumb very tentatively.  I held my breath. 
My heart was beating hard. I could hear 
her breath, I was sure she could hear me.

She glanced at me quickly then returned 
her eyes to her hand.  The color was now 
fully in her cheeks and lips.  She no 
longer looked plain.  My cock tightened 
and grew rapidly.   

She exhaled a long breath through her 
mouth and I saw she was no longer smiling.  
She drew her fingers over my thumb 
caressing it lightly as came up to the 
area around the nail, and moved her 
fingers with very short strokes.  

Again she exhaled loudly,  "Barbara told 
me you were uncircumcised, Ralph.  I told 
her to play with your foreskin, like 
this."  She continued this for a minute.  
"Did she do that for you, Ralph?" she 
asked?  The tiny smile had return to her 
lips.

I said nothing.

"Ralph?  Did she do that for you?"

"Yes," I gulped.  Below, my erection was 
growing out of control.  She must have 
already seen it.   Then Holly bent over 
and brought her lips slowly down over my 
thumb to the first knuckle.  She sucked 
noisily, smacking her lips.  She looked 
up.

"Did she suck the end of your penis like 
that, Ralph?"

"Yes," I said, shakily.  Suddenly my thumb 
was completely engulfed in Holly's mouth.  
I felt the hard suction all the way to the 
last knuckle.  My thumb tip touched the 
back of her throat.  She grasped my fist 
with her hand and began a small circular 
rotation as she sucked.  Now her red curls 
completely covered my hand and, her head 
was bobbing.  I lowered my fist against my 
hardness as she bore down.  Then after a 
short moment, for the first time since 
childhood, I shot my semen into my 
underpants.  "Ohhhh, God!" I moaned.  She 
didn't stop, but she did slow and for a 
brief moment, I thought I felt the edge 
Holly's hand on my penis. She eased her 
grip on my fist and I half-lay there, with 
my palm over my crotch.  She straightened 
up.  Then I raised my eyes and she was 
looking at me.

"Well, do you still doubt me?"    

"No, Holly, I don't doubt you. But doesn't 
this bother you?"

"What?"  

"Doing what we just did."

"What did we do?"

"You know what we did."

"All right then, I just showed you how I 
trained your wife.  You asked me and I 
showed you."

"But, I came!  I had an orgasm!"

Holly smiled.  "Yes you did, Ralph, and 
you need to clean yourself up, don't you?"

"Why are you doing this?" I asked.  "Is 
this a ploy to get me to invest with you?"

She stood up abruptly. "Ralph, it was you 
who asked me!"  Tears came to her eyes.  
"I didn't know you were going to come!  
How can you say that to me? I helped you 
and your wife find sexual happiness!  Barb 
and you are my friends!  What ever I did, 
it was because of that!"  She actually 
sobbed.

I felt ashamed.  "OK, OK, Holly, friends.  
I'm sorry. You truly have been a friend to 
me," I said.  A moment passed. I shook my 
head from side to side.  "I don't know 
where my marriage would have been without 
you.  I'm sorry." I stood up, my legs 
quivering.

Holly dried her eyes with the backs of her 
hands and smiled a little smile, nodding 
her head. 

She opened her arms, "Give me a holy 
kiss," she said.  

Hesitantly, I embraced her around the 
waist.  She pulled me to her and kissed me 
squarely on the lips.   When she did, I 
caught the fragrance of vanilla.  She held 
me and rocked.  Her breasts pressed 
against my chest. I felt my penis stir 
again.

"Did I help you today?" she asked.

 "Yes you did."

"Did I answer all your questions?"

"No, as a matter of fact," I laughed 
wistfully.

"Then you'll come back and we'll talk 
again?"

"Yes, Holly.  I'll come back, and we'll 
talk again."


End of Part 1

OneGallus@yahoo.com




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