Chapter 2

When Aggie got out of her car and into Elliot’s she felt like she was in a spy movie. As they drove, she watched the scenery rush by and said, “Are you sure this is safe Elliot?”

With a confidant chuckle, he said, “The tinting on the windows is easy to see out from the inside but nobody can even see the people inside unless they are coming head-on. I drive on less traveled streets. If I see someone in the alley, which is rare, I keep going to where the alley exits on the other street and then go back when they have left. I never drive down the alley when I see someone there.

It was only an eight-minute drive. And having had no previous discussion of the right and wrong of what they are doing Elliot used that time to give Aggie a thumbnail sketch of his moral take on diddling the pastor’s wife. “I’ve always wanted to be with other women Agatha, and you have always fascinated me. From the time you and the good Reverend came to this church, I wanted to be with you, but Corry (his deceased wife) always kept me on the straight and narrow.” With a lascivious grin, he said, “Corry was always more than enough woman for me. It wasn’t until after she died that I realized my status as a widower made me a celebrity among some of the women in the church. When Corry died it seems that she left me with a gift.

At first, I was quite proper in selecting the women I entertained. They had to be single, divorced, or widowed. But when almost all of them pressured me to marry them my joyful pastime became tedious. That’s when I began paying attention to the advances of frustrated married women. I found them safe, anxious to please, and always genuine in their free expressions of pleasure. I figured that if their husbands were too braindead to take adequate care of their wives in bed they were getting what they deserved. With the single women, I had to be careful never to share my attitudes ... I could never have had this kind of conversation with any of them. With married women, it’s never been an issue. Being “unfaithful” to their husbands most of them found excitement in my having multiple lovers. I suppose it gave them a sense of commonality with me.”

Looking over at Aggie he smiled and said, “That brings us to the subject of you and me Agatha. I vowed never to dally with a wife who was part of a happy marriage. Until last spring I had always considered Phillip an honorable man ... I missed that he was having little “tete-a-tetes” with women in the church. Of course, I understand how much pressure some of these women can apply upon pastors. But when we started interviewing for a new assistant pastor, I noticed that Phillip and Rev. Kaminski seemed unable to hide their eyes from each other. I didn’t put two and two together at first until Phillip came to me last year and asked me for the cottage at the beach for you to vacation during the week of the Conference. It was then that my feelings for you intensified, as did my purpose. When he came to me again this year, I was pretty much aware of their ongoing involvement, so I decided to tell him the cottage was committed to somebody else. I hoped that you would take the bull by the horns and come to me yourself.”

“Why did you do that Elliot?”

“I have no way of proving it Agatha, but I had the sense that something went on with you down there last summer.” He smiled when he saw the rims of her ears redden and added, “When one has spent as much time as I have in that cottage it’s not hard to notice trysts and affairs developing in similar houses around me. The lifeguards alone are a ‘wegiment of wandy wabbits,’” he quipped, emulating Elmer Fudd.

A serious cloud shadowed his face. “Just because you are you and I’ve never been able to keep my eyes off you, Agatha, I’ve been watching you quite a bit. Since you came home from Sea Girt last summer, I’ve noticed a carefree aura about you that I never saw before.”

With a wry smile, Aggie asked, “Do you mean to tell me, Elliot, that you lied about the cottage being committed?”

He didn’t reply to the question, but the rims of his ears flushed as he said, “It got you in the car with me, didn’t it?”

Aggie tingled with anticipation as the garage door closed behind them. Elliot had pulled off the maneuver so flawlessly that he could have been James Bond. As he got out of the car, she purposely stayed in her seat hoping that he would continue acting the gentleman. Opening her door, he didn’t disappoint. Reaching for her hand he coaxed her out of the car and onto her feet. Though the surroundings were unromantic his kiss in the garage made Aggie feel like her panties were being soaked. When he reached down, lifted the hem of her skirt, and fingered the panel of them, his touch on the moist fabric caused her to jerk.

Hand-in-hand they entered the house like young people on a date. The confidence in the car and the brief petting in the garage made Aggie alive with intrigue. When Elliot said, “A shower would be nice Agatha, and a soak in the hot tub would be a nice way to relax,” she was almost giddy.

Elliot’s bedroom was larger than most with a walk-in closet, a couch at the foot of the bed on a raised pedestal, and a full bed-sized mirror above it. The bathroom was oversized with an outsized shower that was surrounded by thick glass and seemed like a rainforest when the water was on. The walls were surrounding mirrors.

Using the toilet Aggie found it titillating when Elliot stood against the wall and watched. “There is something about a woman going to the bathroom that thrills me, Agatha. It’s musical.”

Having never before been so much on display she felt complimented that he would want to watch her in such a private position and said, “I should think that this kind of intimacy would qualify me to be called Aggie, Elliot.”

Chuckling he responded, “I’m aware that since you came back from the beach last year that people have been calling you Aggie, another indication of how carefree your nature has become. Maybe I’m just an old-fashioned guy. Or maybe it’s because when I first began wanting you, I knew you only as Agatha. Or maybe the pompous way in which the Reverend Phillip Wilcox would refer to you as “my wife Agatha” in some of his sermons cemented my feeling about your name. Whatever it is, a woman with a sophisticated name like Agatha sitting on the toilet serenading me with such a delightful tinkling sound I’ve become just a little more in love with you as Agatha.”

“Well,” she answered, “Then you will be my only lover calling me by that name.” Reaching the toilet paper roll she tore off a line of tissues, gathered the sheets in her hand, and reached between her legs to wipe herself.

“Don’t drop it into the toilet Agatha, hand it to me.” He held the paper to his nose and said, “I don’t know what it is about a woman’s urine that’s like an opiate to me.”

Feeling strangely titillated Aggie’s eyes went to Elliot’s’ crotch where she could see the swelling in his pants on its way to becoming a prominent bulge. Bending down to pull up her panties she heard, “No Agatha, take off your panties and hand them to me.” Inspecting the ecru fabric he now held in his hands, stretching the panel of her crotch, he sniffed, and whispered, “Exquisite.”

Having never had her undergarments worshipped in this way Aggie felt a glow centering on her nipples and spreading throughout her body. When he held the panel to his nose and sighed, she felt a chill that raised goose flesh on her arms. Undoing his pants, he worked the bulk of his erection through his zippered fly while murmuring, “Astounding,” while breathing the scent of her panties into his nostrils. Inching steadily toward Aggie on the toilet his erect member bobbed at Aggie’s chin level, rising, and falling gently to the surge of his pulse.

Mesmerized by Elliot’s undulating, lavender head in front of her face, she reached out and tenderly wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Lowering her head, she opened her mouth, moistened his glans with her tongue, and took it inside. She was both stunned and thrilled when Elliot put her panties over his head with the panel resting on his nose. As she bobbed on the length of his shaft and tongued the lobes on the bottom of his knob he rocked his hips back and forth, his panty-covered head and face making him look like a strange, masked man. As she cupped his buns while bobbing on his cock, she felt the expansion of his penis in her mouth that foretold of his nearing climax.

“Agatha, Agatha,” he murmured, pulling his cock out of her mouth, and stripping her panties from his head. Handing them to her he said, “Stretch your panties so I can come on the panel.” She did what he asked, holding her panties in front of her face, and stretching them—the panel just at the end of his engorged, reddened head. With his eyes closed and his lips tight together he sucked long gouts of air into his nostrils as he flailed his fisted erection. “Agatha, Agatha, Agatha,” he shouted as his penis erupted his white lava on the panel of her panties.”

No stranger to taking facial ejaculations Aggie luxuriated in the warmth and excitement of his warm goo. Garven Milroy had done it to her numerous times. But the way Elliot did it on her panties made it seem so much more exotic, triggering a major climax while still sitting on the toilet.

She watched in wonder as Elliot carefully took her panties between his fingers and thumbs and meticulously spread them out on the vanity top, wet side up. In equal wonder, she shivered when he took her hands to help her stand and said, “Let’s undress, Agatha, and get into the shower.”

Leaving their clothes in separate piles on the floor they entered the shower where they were pelted by the rain-like overhead fixture. While meticulously washing one another Elliot pressed his naked, wet body into Aggie’s back. He reached for the small handheld shower and made an adjustment, and said, “Crouch a little Agatha, and spread the lips of your pussy.”

Obeying his request, she almost jumped when the hot water from the hand-held head jetted a pulsating gusher deep inside her pussy. Then he held the vibrating stream straight on her clitoris while she danced to the thrilling surges that made her grasp the safety bars to keep her knees from collapsing.

“Let’s dry off Agatha,” Elliot said. “Then we’ll have a glass of wine in the hot tub. “As he donned a black silk robe, he held a pink one for her to get into. Aggie knew that by the end of the day, she was going to end up as limp as a wet noodle.

While leaving the bathroom Elliot turned as if he were forgetting something. Standing in front of the vanity where her panties still lay flattened on the marble top, he carefully dabbed his middle finger in the pool of semen on the panel then meticulously glossed his lips as if applying lip balm. Turning to Aggie he grasped her shoulders, pulled her to him, and gave her one of the most sensuous kisses she had ever known. She didn’t know if it was a real orgasm, but her stomach was fluttering like something was trying to escape. As she looked questioningly into Elliot’s eyes he said, “It’s a ritual, Agatha.”

Picking up the panties he lifted the lid of what looked like an old-fashioned dirty clothes hamper made of woven bamboo and dropped them in. As he began to close the lid Aggie reached for it and asked, “May I?”

Hesitantly, he stared into her eyes with a mild look of embarrassment and nodded. Picking up the lid she looked in and stifled a gasp. The basket was nearly half full of what must have been hundreds of pairs of panties of every color and shape. Hers still glistened with wet semen. Cocking her head Aggie screwed her lips into a questioning smile and peeked up at him with an expression of both accusation and approval and quipped, “I’ve heard of fetishes before, Elliot.

With a childlike look of embarrassment, he grinned and said, “Some men collect butterflies.”

Sitting in the hot tub sipping wine Aggie felt beyond relaxed. She wondered if, when Elliot took her back to her car, she would be able to keep her neck from flopping when she tried to drive. What the hell she thought there was no time like the present. “Elliot,” she said in the form of a question. “I can’t remember ever meeting someone like you.”

“Like me?” he asked.

“You’re older than anybody I’ve ever thought of having sex with.”

“Too old?” he asked.

“Not at all, Elliot, you’re amazing. You do things that no other man has thought about doing. And you do it with such natural ease that I wonder where it comes from ... like the way you tricked me into coming to your home the other day ... and got me here again today. It tells me that you must be a person of supreme cunning.”

“I want you to know, Agatha that I have never talked with another soul about the personal things my wife Corry and I have done. And that most of what I do Corry taught me.”

Aggie remembered Corry. She was already going downhill when they met but seemed like such a sweet person.

“By talking with you about this, Agatha I am breaking a pledge to myself that I made years ago. But I’ve been watching you for so many years. You have always appeared to me as a person who keeps confidence like no one I’ve met before. I don’t mean to shock you sweet lady, but I’ve always lusted for a female friend with whom I can confidently share this other part of me.”

All ears, Aggie tried to imagine what he was talking about. So far, she knew he was quite a “player,” but not as much of a player as all those panties would indicate. And, according to him, his wife Corry was as well, and now that he had said so—that she was a kinky woman. But what would he have to be so secretive about?

“I was a lawyer, Agatha, a very successful one,” he went on. “For a woman married to a preacher who never had much you can see just by looking at my house that I’ve made a substantial living at it.”

She knew he was by far the largest contributor to the church, having already given over $250,000 to the endowment fund. But though powerful he was also quite mysterious. Why would he need to hide something from his past?

“I used to work for the Treasury Department, Agatha. I was what would be in common day terms, a Narc. I wasn’t married at the time. Some of the guys were but I don’t know how married men could do that kind of job and not have it affect their marriages. At the time, our mission was to shut down the brothels and sex businesses from Pittsburgh, all the way down the Ohio and Mississippi rivers to New Orleans. To do my job effectively I was actually a ‘John’—what they call men who have sex with prostitutes. I had sex with so many prostitutes that I can’t even number them. To prove that we actually did the sex we claimed we were required to take the women’s panties and present them to the department, complete with our ejaculate on them. The department would analyze them to determine that it was actually our semen that had been deposited.”

Recognizing that Elliot felt bad about his undercover activities Aggie said, “But you were enforcing the law, you were shutting down sinful businesses that exploited women.”

Putting his finger on Aggie’s lips to silence her he said, “I put a lot of women away, I destroyed a lot of madams—many of whom had been prostitutes themselves and were like mothers to some of the girls in their care. Frankly, Agatha, I’ve never gotten over the feeling that I was a tool of a government that, foolishly was trying to stop the oldest profession in the world ... like W trying to hold back something as powerful as tidal waves.

I was in New Orleans when I finally reached the end of my rope. I had become a steady customer of the most successful brothel in the south. That’s where I met Corry. She was eighteen at the time. I was twenty-six. Corry was the daughter of a Baptist preacher. He introduced her to sex himself when she was just a young girl, using her as a prostitute to increase donations from wealthy men. She was addicted to sex before she was sixteen.”

Aggie realized what a naïve person she was. She had no idea about these kinds of things. As her body cooked beside Elliot’s in the Jacuzzi with a glass of wine in one hand and his penis in the other, she thought, this is child’s play compared to what he’s talking about.”

“I was having sex with Corry at the time,” he said. “She had been disowned by her father for refusing to do a gangbang for a group of car dealers. She was seventeen and had no place to go and couldn’t get a job. Teresa, the Madam was eager to have her—she was more of a mother to Corry than Corry’s real mother. Within a month Corry became Teresa’s most popular girl. When Corry asked me why I wanted her panties after I had come in them, just like I did with you on the toilet I said, ‘To turn you in.’”

She laughed at first. Realizing I was in love with her I cried. I took her panties Agatha, but I didn’t turn her in. I married her. Teresa gave her away. If you were to dig down to the bottom of that basket where I put your panties you would find Corry’s red panties.