Deacon Johnson Consoles a Widow
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Anal Sex, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Oral Sex, Voyeurism, Clergy,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The establishment of the Church of Divine Intervention was caused by a silly accident that ended Dixie's career as a circus performer. Now, the church is joined by Deacon Johnson a defrocked minister of dubious repute.
The newly established church of Divine Intervention was one of those “pop up overnight” religious congregations that flourished in the bible belt “filled to the gills” with recriminate sinners in need of redemption and salvation. The church was the idea of “Dixie” Cartwright, a female circus performer. Dixie was well into her middle age now, but she still had that sparkle in her eye and that twist of a hip that suggested there was still some heat in the furnace down below. Her husband, to be specific her third and most recent husband, was an ordained minister with credentials from an accredited seminary all the way up in Chicago.
Dixie was definitely ready to quit the circus after a serious fall from a faulty wire with no net to soften her thirty foot fall. She had taken to not using a net lately because the competition made a point of advertising their flyers didn’t use one and that they were the only “death-defying” high wire act on the circuit. Her new husband, Reverend Goodman was not at all happy with that development and did everything he could to dissuade her from her decision.
After the accident that broke both of her ankles, Dixie shut down the circus and let the tents function as a mobile church for her new husband’s brand of religion.
Thus, the Church of Divine Intervention was born and soon became a popular bible belt traveling show for bringing fallen away believers back to the path of enlightenment. Dixie never quite fit in with her colorful costumes but she made some mean cupcakes and her coffee was always fresh and free for religious minded individuals. In fact, Reverend Goodman’s sermons were so popular that they were being broadcast over local radio stations for the “stay at home” devotees eager to eat up his words of caution and advice. Dixie never expect to get a return on her investment in financing the church but after a slow first year, the church now had almost 25,000 members that subscribed to the bulletin sent out monthly by the United States Postal Service. In fact what with the radio advertisements and donations from guilty church members trying to buy their way into the front door to heaven, the supposed “non-profit” church was rolling in liquid assets that made Dixie nervous about the Internal Revenue Service investigating them for not paying their share of Federal taxes.
The month of June crept up on them in a hurry and it was time for the summer tour of small towns and villages stretching all the way up to the foothills and even a few of the mountain settlements that was hungering for the word of the Lord.
Dixie’s legs were all better now and she was well rested after her year off from her high-flying days. She was so fit and ready for excitement that she decided to do some serious sinning of her own with some stranger at an undisclosed location. She stayed real low key in a raunchy roadhouse on the back road highway and had her pick of a little harem of would-be lovers ready to carry her over the threshold of the nearest motel room door. The one she picked was a bit older than most and a little less pretty than most and he had some interesting tattoos that made her want to find out what made him tick.
His name was “Big Boy” Johnson and he didn’t talk too much unless he was of a mind to get a point across to the listener. She didn’t ask him why his nickname was “Big Boy” because the bulge in his crotch was ample explanation for his strange name. She told him that she was a circus girl and needed some relaxation time if he was of a mind to help her out. Their trip to the motel was the fastest on record and she tried her best to catch her breath after her third expedition up the orgasm path and she slowed down enough to ask him a few questions about his life before banging her head into the bed-board so many times that she was dizzy with a possible concussion.
She found out that he was defrocked minister from a mainline church that valued perception of intent above all else and that he was looking for a church to ply his wares of redemption and salvation along with good old-fashioned sincere advice on following in the footsteps of the one true savior. She got from his story that he was not that much “born again” as “recycled” into the ways of the Lord. It was then that she explained her connection to the Church of Divine Intervention and he agreed to contract his services for minimal compensation providing she backed him up with her personal brand of “mentoring” in a strictly covert manner that would protect both their reputations and solve their mutual need for daily doses of soothing sex.
Dixie considered it a win-win proposition and she let the new Deacon Johnson sample her “from behind” technique in open-minded appreciation for mature experience with deviant practices. They were definitely mutually compatible and she sealed the contract with her lips wrapped tightly around his thick shaft just short of gagging and loving every minute of it. It was something her husband seemed to have no interest in and that irritated her no end when nocturnal nights and full moons were broadcasting sinful thoughts into her sexual antenna with endless expectations and rare fulfillment in any satisfactory manner.
She introduced Deacon Johnson to her husband as a seeker of the kind of religion dispensed by the Church of Divine Intervention and her husband, the Reverend Goodman spent the better part of an hour covering the basic precepts of the church and their need to broadcast the word to the ignorant masses surrounding them just wallowing in sin and riding in the fast lane on the road to perdition unless they were called to account for their actions right here on Earth if they wanted to share in the Kingdom of God in Heaven. She managed to hide the fact that Deacon Johnson had his wayward pinky pressed so hard into the crack of her ass that he was actually inside her just a bit and it felt so pleasant that she wanted to slam her backside down on the bench and get it in a whole lot deeper where the sun don’t shine. Of course, her husband was so inspired by the urge to explain his mission that all he could see was the devout faces of the two before him and he waxed eloquent with no suspicion at all about their unseen lack of good behavior.
Dixie was a bit surprised that Deacon Johnson fit into the program with very little difficulty. He was a big success with the teenagers and she suspected it was because of his charming personal attitude that impressed the boys and made the girls tingle in places they suspected it might be sinful. Almost every midday when the Reverend Goodman was busy with dishing out soup to the needy, Dixie was bending over the low vault bench in the gym getting her exercise from Deacon Johnson’s long shaft stretching her leg and back muscles to their limits. She watched her face contort with the effort in the full length mirror in front of her and knew her sins were of her own making because she was the one that suggested the daily date to slake their sexual thirst. It was almost impossible to make any nocturnal dates because the Reverend Goodman was not a fool and kept his wife under close watch after the sun went below the horizon.
Things were on track until Deacon Johnson was assigned to the Outreach Program that visited the faithful in their natural habitat and attended to their religious needs on a one on one basis. He tried not to visit any of the teenagers because he knew his own weakness in succumbing to the wiles of the youthful females with their nubile temptations that he could not ignore behind a closed door.
He approached the well-built cabin on his dirt bike not really expecting anyone to be at home. His latest indication was that the husband was a victim of a traffic accident up on the turnpike and that the wife was returned to her parents somewhere in the high mountains and out of their jurisdiction. His first indication of occupancy was the wisp of smoke from the chimney and he quickly pulled out his brochures for the Church of Divine Intervention programs and his complimentary bible from the backpack furnished by the Outreach Program support staff.
He knocked on the door loud enough to be heard but not so load as to be obnoxious or threatening.
“Yes, who is it?”
The sound of the voice was definitely female and sounding a whole lot cautious and on her guard.
“My name is Deacon Johnson and I am visiting on behalf of the members of the Church of Divine Intervention up on the sawmill logging road behind the post office. I have some complimentary reading material for you if you be the widow Hatchett called Maryanne and a former member of the Church of Spiritual Enlightenment no longer in existence in these parts.”
The door opened a crack and he saw a pair of deep blue eyes watching him from the shadows.
“What kind of material?”
He held out the bible and the other folders for her and she snatched them inside the door.
“I don’t know if it would be proper for me to invite you inside since I am all alone and it might not be seemly.”
He smiled his most charming smile and folded his hands as if in prayer.
“That is a proper consideration, widow Hatchett, but since I am acting in accordance with church orders, I think it would be considered not only proper but appropriate in respect to the passing of your beloved.”
The door opened wide and he stepped inside finding the room to be a lot more inviting and open than he had imagined from the outside. The widow was dress all in black from head to toes and the only color on her was her deep blue eyes and her ruby red lips that pursed with promise each time she formed a word in answer to his questions. He found her forming of the vowel “o” to be particularly exciting because he could not only saw the circular shape of her lips but the hint of her pink tongue hiding just inside.
When she reached out to open the bible, he covered her fingers with his hand to offer a small prayer in mourning for her dearly departed. She made no effort to hide the tears that flowed suddenly from her clear blue eyes and she pulled his hand closer to her until his fingers touched the firm roundness of her nubile breasts. They were full and pert and he wondered why the Hatchett family didn’t have any little ones running around on bare feet like all the other houses in the foothills.
Maryanne’s heart and pulse were beating rapidly because she was much excited at the touch of a male hand after several weeks of denied masculine presence. In all honesty, she would be the first to admit her husband was not really a sexual person and relegated such matters to a quick fifteen minutes on Saturday nights right after the lamps were turned off and she was stretched out with her body naked as a jaybird from the waist on down ready to take his seed in the hope of forming a family. Right from the start she figured that there was something not quite right because it seemed like her husband was too quick to spurt his juices and at a point when she was really not fully open to receive them up deep inside where it really counted.
Even now, with the Deacon’s calming hand in hers, she felt more alive than when her husband had her flat on her back with her legs straight up in the air and waving around waiting for his flood that never seemed intense enough to get the job done.
Maryanne fell to her knees and started to pray in earnest still holding the Deacon’s hand to her bosom. It meant that he now was wrapped around her hips and it was only a matter of frenzied lifting that bared her hips and saddle for him to spoon her pressing his manhood to her button of feminine desire. In a way, she was not guilty about her surrender because they were in a praying mood and she knew his enlightened shaft would chase away the devil that was preventing her from the release she needed so desperately. He knocked on her door and she happily opened wide for him allowing him to enter her much deeper than her husband had ever been. He was in true “virgin” territory with his enthusiastic cock and she prayed frantically with a speed never before crossing her lips with each resounding word.
Her orgasms were once, twice, trice upon her before he loosed a flood that would have floated Noah’s ark to the top of the highest mountain deep inside her. Her compact ass cheeks trembled between his sturdy legs and he stroked her back with his hands to calm her down because he was getting ready for round two.
It was a revelation for Maryanne because she had never gone past the first round before.