Chapter 13: Michael In The Morning

What time is it? Damn it, its barely seven o'clock; Jeez, I slept like a baby. Where's Melissa? Oh, shit, I forgot, she just went to Las Vegas with her grandmother, fucking everyone there with a cock. Probably everyone with a pussy, too. I hope she's leaving something over for Grandma. I wonder if they've ever done a threesome; maybe some day I'll do one with them. That'd be really hot. Oh shit, would that be hot.

I can't believe my fucking slut-wife has me thinking in curse words. It's all her damn fault anyway, turning me from a plain old missionary into a sex fiend. I think I slept so well because of what we did last night; that fucking Elizabeth really knows how to clean a set of pipes. That mouth of hers is really educated, the way she sucks balls and tongues my ass before turning on the Hoover to finish me off. And with her daughter riding my face at the same time, with that sweet smelling bald pussy gushing out her juice when she cums, its no wonder I'm still exhausted. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning when her pussy juice goes up my nose. If I had to choose just one, it'd be Ginny, she's got more stamina, but what the fuck, how can anyone complain about the two Underwood women at once? I wonder if Artie has ever done a threesome with them. Shit, husband, wife and daughter; I'd like to jerk off watching that one.

Still, I'm going to have to watch out what my brain thinks about the words I use. Here I am, a respected clergyman, an upscale flock, able to get restaurant reservations whenever I want them, getting called in to the doctor's office for an examination ahead of everyone else, courtesy discounts around town on most of my purchases, with an extremely sexy wife who taught me the nuances of how to please a woman. When I stand up there in front on Sunday mornings, leading the service or giving a sermon, I look out over those faces and see if the attendance includes all the ones I'm fucking. Or hoping to fuck. But if I ever start using those words, even during one of my fire and brimstone sermons about morality, I'm finished forever.

Shit, every fucking morning the same thing. This big thing is hard as hell; I've really got to take a leak, but I'm too damn tired to get up. Well, if I hold this piece of meat really tight, it always helps me delay having to get up. I'm going to have to learn not to drink any water after three in the afternoon; some guy once told me he learned that in a survival course up in the frozen north.

Ooh, that feels good, big guy; do you like it? You always like it when I rub it, don't you, fella? Fast, slow, dry, lubricated, anything. Good thing we've got all these women around who are willing to rub it for us or my shoulder would be sore all the time. But instead of slaking my thirst, as it were, these delicious, wanton women make me so horny that I'm hard all the time. My sperm used to build up every couple of days; I would give Melissa a quick fuck and go to sleep. Now I need to get off every day, more than once, like a damn teenager.

What do you say, big guy? Should I keep on going or should I let go of you and let you take your piss? Shit, I can't decide.

Elizabeth was there yesterday morning. Jeez, she is a ripe one; a bit tall, a bit, just a teeny bit stocky, nice melons, great for feeding. Good thing she wears a support bra. She never did tell me why she hit on me that first time; probably pissed off at Artie. She must have caught him in the sack with that little Megan slut or that other bimbo in his office. Not so little where it counts, though, that Megan; she's got an asshole you can drive a truck through. Or maybe she caught him with Ginny. Nervy bastard; lucky bastard.

What is it, big guy? I think about Megan and Ginny and you get even harder; you've got so much blood in there that you're feeling warm. Do you want me to speed up or slow down? Make up your mind.

I don't blame you about them. I knew what was going to happen that first day Megan came to services with Ginny; I could tell by the way she carried herself. Self-confident, aware of her body, clothing a bit too tight for religious services, just a touch too much skin, aware of the stares of all the men and most of the women; there was no doubt that she went both ways. But I never would have guessed that she prefers it up the ass.

'Good morning, Virginia; how are you?' That's what I said. What I meant was, 'Who is this lovely whorish-looking cunt with that mouth I'd love to fuck?'

Do you remember what she said, big guy? 'I'd like you to meet my next door neighbor, Megan. Her family goes to the church across the street, but I told her that you might be willing to talk to her about something private.'

Shit, big guy, when they say 'something private', they always mean they want to talk about fucking, or maybe once in a while about some crime they've done. And I just lo-o-o-o-ve to listen to that sex stuff, because most of the time, it means that you and I are gonna get laid. Or at least blown. My choice. OK, OK, so we decide together.

'Just let me shake everyone's hand and then we can talk in my office.' That's what I said, big guy. You knew what I meant. 'Do you prefer fuck or suck, young lady?' Yeah, young lady is what I was imagining myself calling her. If she was a lady, I was a gentleman, and you know I'm not that. Not with fuckable women around me, I'm not.

'I'll leave you two to talk. Call me later, Megan, and I'll pick you up.'

Shit, I had been hoping for a threesome. You were too, weren't you, you big cock? I could feel you filling up; you were ready for it.

'Don't worry, Virginia, I'll drive her home.' She gave me that knowing smile, like she had been expecting that was what I would say. You caught it too, didn't you, big guy?

I'm still not sure if that was a deliberate shake that Megan gave her ass as I held the office door for her or if that was just her natural way of walking. The way her head swiveled as she surveyed the office had me convinced she was looking for a couch to stretch out on. I was trying to be cool but I could feel you starting to press against my zipper there, big guy, especially when I got a profile look at those fine boobs.

'I need some advice, Reverend.'

'Why don't you talk to your own priest across the street, Megan?'

'Well, it's about sex. People may talk to him about sex all the time but he doesn't have the personal experience that you do.'

'Me?' Shit, I figured she would say something about me being married to Melissa.

'Well, you are pronging Ginny, aren't you?'

I remember you getting very hard just then, big guy, at about the same speed as my face turned red. But what was I supposed to do, confess like some character in a television program when the cop pretends that the confederate already confessed? Only I try not to lie unless its necessary, so I just ignored the question, which actually must have been answering it.

'Tell me your problem.'

'I have sex with a lot of men and... '

'Men?'

'Mostly. Just a few boys. Anyway, I love to fuck, excuse me, I love to have sex, only I can't help being very nasty and foul mouthed to them afterwards. How can I change?'

Well, big guy, all of that was good news, but it meant that she really didn't want any advice, because she should have been smart enough to know that her problem needed a psychologist or psychiatrist, not a minister. She just wanted to fuck us, big guy. By then, I was experienced enough to want to call her bluff.

'You really don't want any advice from me, do you?'

She had it all planned out; I didn't have to spend any time on seduction. She began to unbutton her blouse.

'I just wanted to see if you were as sexy as Ginny says. She claims that you're hung like a stallion.'

I turned red again and you just pressed out against my zipper, didn't you, big guy? 'She never said that. I'm just average.'

'Prove it, Reverend.'

My eyes were locked onto her bazooms. At least she had the decency to wear a bra in church, but once the blouse was open, I saw a lot of tempting flesh pushed out above the cups. But I didn't think I needed to prove the size of my manhood; I knew she would search for the truth on her own.

'Look for it yourself. If you can find it, you can measure it.'

She laughed. 'Oh, I can find it alright; I can see it pushing out the front of your pants.'

You sure were, big guy; you just wanted to get yours and you didn't even care if I had a little fun first. You didn't care if I was opening her bra as long as she was working my zipper so you could get some fresh air. Temporarily, that is, before she went down on you.

How'd you like the feel of her mouth wrapped around you? When I saw that nice set of pearly teeth, I was afraid she was going to hurt you, rip you to pieces, but that girl can surely suck a cock, can't she? It felt like she had all her teeth pulled; I never felt a scratch. It was nice and warm for you, wasn't it, big guy? I could feel you sliding in and out through all that saliva and you were loving it, you surely were. I hope you weren't too mad at me for holding you back but hell, I was enjoying it too. Let me tell you, big guy, there's almost nothing as exciting as looking down and seeing some woman on her knees with you buried in her mouth, you looking all shiny as she bobbed her head up and down. Man, you felt like king of the world. Me too, I must admit.

It's a hell of a lot better than my hand, isn't it, big guy?

Oh yeah, that little Megan can suck. Do you like the way she slurps when she sucks, the way you feel like you're drowning in all that saliva in her mouth? And she uses the same tongue action when she kisses as when she's got you in her mouth, that same tongue action as when she's reaming me out. Shit, I hate it when she wants to kiss after she's done that. Ugh!