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Subject: Title story: "Sodomizing hannah" Author: Killer Muffin 59672322
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Date: Wed, 16 Nov 2005 20:05:24 +0000
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He could hear them coming into the church. They were talking and laughing,
turning on lights and pulling out chairs they were getting ready to be good
children of God. Well, most of them were. He eyed his telephone for the
hundredth time in the past three days. His hand twitched to pick it up, and he
nearly did. The laughter echoed through the darkened church again. Her laughter.
He found himself standing and gathering the evening's lesson almost
mechanically.
Just one more night, what would one more night hurt? He could be with her for
another night of the sweetest agony a man could know and in the morning he
would call Springfield and request to be removed. It's not like he'd ever
touched her. He'd never said a single improper word to her. There was nothing
outside of his head to indicate that he'd be the least bit unpastorly to a
member of his congregation. Even the elders had no clue what evil sins were
running through his mind.
"Pastor Mike! Sandy brought sugar cookies." Sandy's brother shoved the plastic
box full of sugar cookies in his direction. He smiled politely and took one.
Allan had been pushing Sarah in his direction since he arrived at the church.
Allan would like nothing better than to see his sister as Mrs. Pastor Mike.
Sandy smiled at him she looked exactly like a half-blind cat he'd once owned. He
can't say they hadn't warned him at seminary. Any unattached pastor was open
season, particularly if he wasn't flat ugly. He smiled blandly around the room
and took his seat at the head of the table. Sandy was still doing her half-blind
cat thing and Allan was sharing sugar cookies with Hannah. Hannah . . .
His eyes managed to linger just long enough on her lithe body to imprint the
swell of her breasts under the blue gingham into delicious memory, but not long
enough to cause anyone even Allan the suspicion that he'd noticed. He cleared
his throat and flipped through his book. The page was marked, but he wanted a
few precious seconds to think about her upthrust nipples. They pressed so
plainly against her dress that he wondered if she wore a bra.
All things considered and nipples firmly entrenched in his mind, the study went
well. He waded through the Roman Road without once using the word nipples. He'd
been terrified that he would make some glib slip of the tongue that would
completely give him away. Instead, he was the perfect pastor who still had the
perfect secret.
Allan, as always, stayed to help clean up and insisted on doing everything
himself so Sandy would have another chance to make her move. He wasn't in the
mood to put up with either of them. He thanked Allan for his help and went to
his office before they could corner him. He shut the door politely in Sandy's
face. He leaned his head silently against the cool wood and listened to the
siblings arguing for a few minutes and then the door slam shut behind them. He
relaxed against the door and sighed all the way from his toes. Now he had a few
moments alone with his thoughts of Hannah.
"Pastor Mike?"
He slammed his head against the door. He must be dreaming, Hannah's voice? The
lamp on his desk clicked on, confirming that it wasn't a dream. She was
leaning against his desk, smiling at him. He rubbed his eyes but she didn't go
away. "Hannah?"
She smiled at him and his gut wrenched. "I wanted to talk to you in private for
a few moments, if you don't mind."
He cleared his throat and nodded. He tried to keep his eyes on her face.
Anywhere above her neck. Just as long as they were off of those nipples. They
were poking against her dress still. The fabric molded them perfectly, two
little points sticking straight out from a pair of beautifully rounded
breasts. Her nipples cast twin shadows in the lamplight. "Wh-what did you want
to see me about?"
"I'm going to commit adultery."
His eyes slapped to her face at that. The shock must have exploded across his
expression because she giggled. Hope blossomed and so did a nasty curl of guilt.
"But, but your husband. . ."
"I've made up my mind, Pastor Mike. I'm going to do it." She licked her lips and
dropped her eyes to his waist.
"Hannah, as your pastor I must counsel you against this."
"I know what you have to do." Her hands twitched by her sides, then abruptly
went to the buttons at her neckline. Her voice dipped, turning into a husky
version of what was already liquid sex. "I know what you want to do."
"Hannah. . ."
One button gave way and then another.
"You can't do this. I won't let you."
Another button flicked up. One more and her lapels would sag enough to reveal
the slopes of her breasts. "You want to fuck me, Pastor Mike."
The coarse word grated across his conscience and shoved his dick against his
trousers. "No, I don't."
She laughed again, that smooth as a swig of old Kentucky whiskey laugh of hers.
"You can go to hell just as quick for lyin' as for stealin'."
"Hannah, this is wrong. You're married. I'm your pastor. We can't do this." His
five-year virgin penis wasn't ...
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