Chapter 6: Michael And Virginia

I had already been fucking Elizabeth for some time when her daughter Ginny came to see me. My relationship - OK, call it an affair - with Elizabeth had begun when she had visited to discuss her assignations with both Ernie and Ginny. Needless to say, I was shocked, and gave her an appropriate sermon on sexual infidelity and incest.

"Stop it, Reverend." She had stood up and was walking around my desk toward me.

"What are you talking about, Elizabeth?"

"You know very well that the story I told you has made you as hot and as aroused as you've ever been in your life. Last time I threw myself at you, you weren't interested. But today I've got you."

With that, she reached down to rub the front of my slacks, squeezing the penis that was trying to burst through.

"Ah, I see that I was right."

Of course she was right. Despite the fact that I had improved my sexual skills with Melissa, my dear wife, or maybe because of it, I was a normal man who can be excited by a lustful story or action or sight.

I reached up and grabbed her roughly, far more roughly than any man should be allowed to handle a woman, but she folded willingly onto my lap. I manhandled her breasts; her response was a soft sigh. Buttons popped off her blouse in my heated fondling, hopefully to be found by us rather than the housekeeper; I paused momentarily to reflect on my aggression.

"That's all right, Michael. I want you to keep going."

"You've never called me Michael before."

"You've never had your hands all over me before, and that's entirely your own fault."

I had not ever been unfaithful to my Melissa, though I knew full well that she still sowed her wild oats, with her Granny as the beard. I had forgiven her silently, but now I knew that I would soon be the one needing forgiveness.

I pushed Elizabeth off me onto her knees. She looked up in surprise as I jumped from the chair to get Melissa's throw pillow for her knees.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll be just a second."

She smiled when she saw what I had done, and then stood up, grabbing my face in a tongue-filled kiss. Then she pushed me down onto my chair, knelt on the pillow and began work on my belt. I was beyond logic; as the zipper zipped, I lifted my backside so that she could pull my slacks off. My blood filled lance jutted out from my underwear.

"Let me fold my slacks."

"Not now, Michael. Next time you can do that."

So she meant that there would be a next time. It was a pleasant thought, for although I had never pleased myself with her body, I knew that the thrill to come would be one that I would want to repeat.

Again roughly, I pulled her face onto my penis, holding it tightly in place. She began to lick, and I frustrated her gentleness by thrusting repeatedly into her mouth, fucking her face, as it were. Her mouth tightened around me and her tongue began to lick the crown of my member. My thrusts hit the back of her mouth and she used her hand to limit the length of my intrusion. I stared down at the top of her head, noticing without curiousity the dark roots creeping out of her scalp, the lie detector in her otherwise light hair.

Melissa was out of town with Granny, on another of her 'lust' weekends. Much sperm had built up inside me; I had rarely bothered in the past to relieve myself with my hand, although that was due to change. As a result, my explosion was quick in coming, and my seed blasted into her mouth. I could see her trying to swallow, but some of my cum dribbled out of her lips, onto my under shorts and onto her blouse. I wasn't worried about my shorts; we have an occasional housekeeper who does the laundry, and she is my confidante, not Melissa's. But I still meant to look for those buttons.

"I'm sorry your blouse is stained."

"Don't worry about it; I think I'll keep it as is for a souvenir." Another Monica?

With that, she stood to kiss me. Our mouths opened, our tongues dueled, and I could taste myself on her teeth. It was a taste I had experienced - enjoyed - only infrequently. Perhaps I should treat myself to that luxury more often.

It took an hour of snuggling, nipping kisses, soft words of lust and fear, before I bent Elizabeth over my desk and satisfied her, a satisfaction I was resolved to repeat many times in the future.

"Michael, I'm going to send Virginia to talk to you about her sexual experiences, including those with me. That concentration on younger boys bothers me; perhaps you can give her the experience of a more mature person."

"Are you saying that you mean for me to make love with her?"

"If you wish and if she does. You might have to seduce her if you want her."

"Will she know about us?"

"Not from me. You can tell her or not, as you wish."

When she left, my head was spinning. Here was this beautiful woman, who had apparently lusted for me for some time, with no encouragement on my part, whose sexual history included incestuous relationships with both her son and her daughter, who had just caused me to breach my vows to my wife, now offering up her daughter to me for my pleasure. And I had just promised myself that I would give her a try.

It was a couple of months before I heard from Virginia. Her call was to the effect that she was having a 'relationship problem' and needed an objective bystander to give her advice. Her call was businesslike; I had no clue as to whether she wanted counseling or sex. I would have been happy with both.

When she walked in, my eyes quickly analyzed her, hopefully fast enough so that she didn't notice across the ten foot gap between us. I had previously seen her, of course, but now I was studying her as a woman, a sexual object. In her middle to late twenties, a shade above average height, well coiffed, wearing a light green silk suit and a white sweater underneath. Her breasts were 'significant', but not bovine; no, they would fit nicely in my hands and under my lips. Still, I didn't know if she wanted me or would have me.

I rose to greet her, my hand extended to shake hers, hoping that my straining erection would not be too noticeable. I did see her glance down, but neither her mouth nor her eyes gave a clue as to what she saw, or what she thought about what she saw. I seated her in one of the easy chairs and sat catty-corner in the other, far enough apart so that our knees were free to move without touching each other. As I waited for her to begin, my mind was crowded with lewd thoughts, and I hoped I could concentrate of her words, at least until I knew how the conversation would end.

"I don't know how to begin, Reverend."

"Why don't you start by calling me Michael? You may be more relaxed."

"Michael." She was testing the sound of my name on her ears. "Thank you, Michael."

"Whenever you're ready, Virginia."

"You can say Ginny, Michael." She was smiling.

I returned the smile. "Yes, I will." I leaned to pat her hand, and then sat back in my chair. The touch of her hand had been warm, smooth, yielding.

"It's about sex, Michael."

"It often is, Ginny. I try not to blush and not to be judgmental."

"Thank you. Well, it's like this. I first had sex, I mean real sex, not just oral sex, when I was in college." She looked at me as though I should be shocked at the mention of oral sex, or maybe it was for approval. I nodded; oral sex sounded good.

"You exhibited more restraint than most of your generation. I can see that you wanted to be sure before you did anything." My penis pressed against my slacks as I thought of Ginny having sex, wondering what it would be like to be inside her body.

"The thing is, I didn't care for any of the boys my age." She paused, waiting for me to signal her to go on.

"You mean it was with an older man? Perhaps a married man?" I thought that I knew the answer, of course, but couldn't very well disclose that. I expected that she would soon tell me about making love with her mother.

"No, not that."

I waited. It took a while for her to move on, to tell me of that lesbian incestuous relationship.

"I could only have sex with younger boys, high schoolers." My eyes went up; this was not the disclosure that I had been primed for. "And it's still like that. I've never had sex with a man my own age. Right now I'm regularly seeing a young man ten years younger than I am. He's still in high school."

"The school you teach at? That's a dangerous thing to do." My hand rested atop hers.

"No, fortunately he's in a different school. But what am I to do, Michael? Is it a sin? How can I stop it? What should I do?" She was close to tears. This might take some seduction.

"Certainly it's a sin; you already know that. But many good people commit sins from time to time. Sins are things they should get past, not wallow in. I'm surely not perfect myself." I wondered if she caught the hint in that comment. "You recognize that what you're doing isn't right, that you should change that part of your conduct. What you need to do is to find a man your own age who excites you."

"I told you, I don't like any men my own age. There are many male teachers in my school; some of them have asked me out. Absolutely none of them appeal to me. Who can try to change me?" She was staring at me. My hand had never left its position atop hers.

I spoke softly. "I don't know who to suggest." As I said it, my heart was pounding, and I think the palm of my hand was perspiring. I wanted to leap onto this beautiful woman and make mad, passionate love with her; I wanted to fuck her blind.