Chapter 1

After several requests for more of the delectable Tracey, I've decided to write a follow-on story to; 'mindblowin'...

"Oh! Father Jack, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like my dear?"

Tracy leant against the front door and looked up to where I stood on the stairs, at just the right height for her succulent mouth for my cock, beckoning her towards me through the open zipper. We'd just returned from a 'Vicars and Tarts' party and after several hours of teasing I was ready. More than ready.

"Hardly appropriate behaviour for a man-of-the-cloth wouldn't you say?" She replied tartly, hanging her hat on my rigid length and making her way into the kitchen.

I removed her hat, hung it on the hall-stand and followed her furiously. "How long is this going to continue?" I stormed, slamming the kitchen door open.

She regarded me calmly and poured a nightcap of brandy, added coke and ice, then took a thoughtful sip before replying. "That attitude isn't going to help you for a start and until you answer my question, this," she said, cupping her crotch, "is on strike."

My smouldering expression made no impression on her serene demeanour. Damn! The woman used her sex like a sniper. I could force myself upon her, despite her superior weight advantage, but couldn't abide the idea of doing that to anyone, let alone the woman I loved. Besides, it'd be safer sticking my penis in a bear trap doing that to her! We regarded each other with the cunning of chess players at a critical moment during the match. She knew I was getting desperate and would wait patiently until I gave her the answer - but I had no idea how she'd take it and risked losing her one way or the other. I may be damned if I did - but I was certainly condemned if I didn't. My previous relationship had crashed with the revelation hovering on the tip of my tongue and the thought of this one doing the same filled me with foreboding. Still, the risk had to be taken.

"I need a drink." I said, taking the bottle and a glass into the living room, pouring a generous measure before sitting down, looking at her over the rim as I took a hefty belt of the fiery liquor.

Tracy sat opposite, regarding me carefully, aware that my resolve had been weakened and said with heavy irony; "confession is good for the soul. You of all people should know that - Father."

"True." I acknowledged with a crooked smile and drained my glass. But knowledge is power... and too much can be a dangerous thing."

Tracy lit a cigarette and sat back with a sigh in the thick cushions, crossing her legs to reveal a breathless expanse of stockinged thigh. I licked my lips and leaned forward for a better view, grabbing the pack from the low coffee table between us. She ran a sharp fingernail down her taut suspender, snapped it playfully and said; "but I already have the power without knowing what you're about to say."

"You have a pretty good idea after last Sunday," I muttered, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke at her, "you just want to hear me admit it."

"Admit what?" She replied coyly, twanging the suspender hard enough to make her thigh muscle ripple.

"That I enjoy... sucking cock." I said, nervously studying her.

Her smile widened, as did her thighs as she uncrossed her legs, parting them in my direction for the first time in a week. She kicked off her low-heeled shoes, placed her feet on the edge of the table and smoothed down her skirt. "Is that all?" Tracy purred, smoking her cigarette in such a way as to make my cock throb inside my boxers.

"Not all," I said, encouraged by her response to add; "sometimes more. It depends."

"On what?"

I leaned back in my chair and fished out my erection. "On how horny I am," I said, slapping it suggestively on my palm.

Tracy flicked ash in the general direction of the ashtray. "Then you're probably ready for one up the arse by now," she drawled.

"Does that disgust you?" I probed, relieved that Tracy hadn't got up and walked out by now.

"It excites me," she said after a moments hesitation, breathing harder as she watched my hand move slowly up and down, her thighs parting a little further. Her emerald eyes sparkled at my exhibition of lust and display of trust in our love. "Tell me more."

I pushed my trousers down, stretched both legs under the table and carried on stroking while I told her how I'd gone for a massage and ended up taking lessons from Kenny in aromatherapy each week for six months, sometimes sucking his fat, six inch cock; sometimes getting sucked by him until I lost control one evening and eagerly took him deep inside me.*

"We still meet regularly, once a month," I concluded.

"Then you've met six times since going out with me," she deduced, "you bad boy! I should..."

"But we've not done anything... well, jerked each other off a bit - but nothing else." I hastily protested, opening my hands. "After all, it's just sex. You're the only one I want. The only one I truly love."

There it was. The L-word. During all this time it had been an unspoken emotion between us but now I'd empowered her with all she needed to take control of the relationship. Nervously, I bit my lip, wishing I hadn't gone so far, but unable to take back what I'd said. Her eyes narrowed, weighing up my sincerity against the plight I was in. Tracy knew that men will say anything to get into a woman's knickers and obviously suspected I was using it as a ploy to do the same. She finished her cigarette and lit another before committing her thoughts to words, leaving me in breathless suspense.

"Kneel down there," she said after coming to her decision, gesturing at the floor beneath her feet.

Without arguing I did as she asked, moving the table back to create enough space for me to kneel compliantly. From this point on, she could do anything from crushing me underfoot like a bug to getting up to walk out of my life forever. The sensation was terrifying and arousing at the same time, confusing my muddled mind further, leaving me helpless to guess, or prevent, what she'd do next - Tracy placed the ashtray on the arm of her chair then both feet on my back, pinning me there at her convenience.

"You say you love me," she began, wiggling down in her chair to get more comfortable, "and yet you don't trust me enough to tell me about this man."

"It's not that..." I tried to explain.

"Don't interrupt," she said curtly, knocking my head down with the heel of her foot. "If you loved me you'd also trust me. The two go hand in glove. Love, trust and honesty are essential for me to believe we have any chance of staying together. If you'd admitted seeing another woman behind my back I'd be gone already, understand?"

Oh-oh, she was in full bitch mode. I answered quickly; "yes," and shut up. Keeping my answers short and pertinent would be my only hope now.

"Yes, what?" Tracy demanded, rubbing the heel of her foot along my spine.

"Yes. My Lady," I amended, cursing myself mentally for the lapse in etiquette. I should've known better by now.

"If ever I find out you've had another woman I'll make sure you never fucking do it again. With anyone, man or woman. You hear me?"

"Of course, My Lady. Why would I? You're all I need."

"Really? Then why see this man?"

She had me there. Why indeed? I raised my head a little and risked an answer. "I go there to relax and unwind. Nothing more. He's the best masseur I know and never fails to ease the knots out of my back. You know I'm not gay, and it don't matter to me that he is. As long as his hands work their magic on my back I'd still see him... with your permission, of course."

Tracy took a thoughtful draw on her cigarette and dug her heels into the small of my back. She knew I needed medication for a back injury incurred at work and realised my monthly visits may not be merely for the thrill of sex after all.

"Is he a good cock sucker?" Tracy asked after several minutes.

"He's good... but not as good as you, My Lady." I dutifully replied.

"Flattery won't help you now," she said, stubbing out her cigarette and leaning down to lift my head up so she could look into my eyes. "Do you fuck each other or is it all one way?"

"We rarely fuck," I admitted, wincing at her sharp nails cutting into my chin, "it's usually oral."

"It tastes good?" Tracy inquired, stroking my throat as though trying to induce a reflex for a particularly bitter pill.

"It's ok... not as nice as mine, but I got used to it."

"You always eat your own cum after having a wank?"

"No... at least, not recently. Being with you has cut down my frequency."

"Aren't you sweet." She smiled smugly and tickled my chin like a favoured pet. "What were you thinking about last time you did it?"

"The way you suck my cock." I replied promptly, feeling it lurch upwards at the thought of those lips wrapping themselves around its rigid head.

"Like this?" Tracy purred, slipping two fingers into her mouth and sucking them slowly, teasingly, her tongue licking over them as they would my shaft... if I should be so lucky! "What about my pussy? Don't you think of that too?"

"God, yes!" I breathed, taking a deep breath of her aroma, drifting sensually from under her skirt.

"Have a good sniff, you dirty bastard," she insisted, letting my chin drop as her hand made its way up between her spreading thighs.

I breathed deep, inhaling her sweaty aroma and natural musk. Her feet pushed me closer then her knees clamped either side of my head, preventing me going too far in my quest to get near the source but allowing me to see how juicy she was by opening her thighs wide. Tracy had shaved before getting dressed, her smooth mons glistened with excitement. My mouth watered at the sight and I licked my lips, bringing a throaty chuckle from her as she slipped a moist finger along the slit and gently rubbed her clit.