The Pastor’s Wife
I got a call from my friend, Sandra, inviting me down for a visit.
It so happened that my husband was leaving for a hunting trip with friends and I’d already decided to let the kids go to their grandparents so I said, “sure, love to!”
We live in Oklahoma and I left early on that Saturday morning, eager to begin the five-hour trip to Sandi’s house in a small, country town south of Austin, Texas.
“I’ve got something special and delightfully nasty planned for us,” my friend had said into the phone.
Knowing her imagination, and tingling from the memory of previous visits, I was bursting with anticipation.
When I got to their house in the country, Sandi greeted me and reacquainted me with her two lovely teen daughters. And I saw that she had Bruce, her elderly neighbors’ enormous black Mastiff dog with her. From the time the beast spent with her it was hard to know that he wasn’t the family’s dog.
“Is he always here?” I laughed.
“Seems like it,” chuckled Jennifer, Sandi’s younger daughter.
“Y’all behave now, y’hear girls! Aunt Phyllis and I have some errands to run” she announced to her daughters as we got into her big Suburban.
Before climbing in herself, Sandi opened the endgate and Bruce dutifully hopped inside and settled down. Was it my imagination or had Jennifer given us a sly chuckle as we got into the car?
Knowing Sandra as I do, and seeing that Bruce was with us, I knew the special surprise had to do with sex. With her daughters at home I was unsure where exactly and I remained so as we drove along the country roads.
“Where’re we going?” I prodded.
“Not far, you’ll see,” she grinned.
Soon after, we exited the hardtop onto a dusty, gravel drive that ran just a few hundred feet to a small, white, clapboard country church.
“Dave’s church???” I gasped.
Sandi’s husband was an ordained minister and pastor of the small, country church but the congregation, being too small to support a full-time minister, Dave supplemented with a job as a salesman and he was away on a business trip until later that evening.
“Yup,” Sandi replied.
“I’ve never done it in a church” I said.
“I have, but never like we’re about to do it.” she smiled mischieviously.
We parked in the grassy courtyard and released the big dog who went frog-hopping around, sprinkling trees before obediently falling in step with us. Sandi produced a key and unlocked the double doors at the front of the sanctuary. Closing and locking them behind us, we proceeded down the center of the pews to the altar at the front. Bruce was trotting along behind us, occasionally poking his big snout into our buttocks; familiar territory for the huge canine.
“Where? I asked.
Sandi walked up the few steps of the altar and began removing her clothes, “right here!” she announced.
I followed suit and, when we were both nude, we kissed and caressed each other’s body, letting our tongues and fingers explore soft folds and creases. Bruce was agitated and kept trying to force his big head between our bodies. I relented and squatted just slightly and was rewarded with the slurp of his thick, raspy tongue.
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