Melissa Morgan's female intuition sensed something about this new parishioner, a huge muscular black man named Reggie Johnson, which made her very uneasy. Her husband, Bill, failed to notice Reggie make his way beside her during the service.

All houses of worship carried in their air that same musty stench Reggie despised of old prayer books and Bibles. His eyes contemptuously beheld the obnoxiously large cross – symbol of suppression, sexual inhibition, the eternal opposition – suspended from the ceiling above the preacher.

For Reggie, grueling Sunday service was worse than Hell – and it was here on Earth. His stare lustfully wandered to the delicious curves of Melissa's young, slender figure beneath fine Sunday garments – a worthier object of contemplation and the only thing making the malarkey spewing from Reverend Doyle's mouth and that infernal book he read tolerable.

Melissa's dress revealed a bosom that filled it nicely, not excessively; a narrow waist; a thin, athletic hourglass figure; and a small, heart shaped ass. Melissa accompanied her husband to church every Sunday. Her face was an elixir of flaxen hair that descended past her shoulders in gentle waves; steely blue eyes, their color taken from heaven; a cute, round nose; a petite mouth with full lips; light, unblemished skin.

A few months back Reggie had placed his drug dealing operation in trusted hands, left the inner city, and moved to this small rural community where he remained inconspicuous. After the prosecution of some high-ranking government officials on his payroll, he needed to hang low for a while.

Reggie missed many things about the city, but beautiful women the most. City life provided him with a steady stream of girlfriends. Here in the boonies that stream had gone dry – no pussy for four months – which brought him here to the Light of Christ Church.

Reggie needed pussy badly, and the Light of Christ Church seemed like the only place he might find some in this small, pathetic community. The predominantly white congregation contained potential. Reggie particularly enjoyed cultivating a taste for black cock in supercilious white women. While here, he played the role of a good strong Christian deceptively well. None suspected the evil among them.

Services concluded and everyone wished their neighbors peace. "I love you so much," Melissa whispered in her husband's ear. After a big embrace, Bill and Melissa turned away from one another – she toward Reggie, jauntily taking his hand.

"Peace be with you," Melissa said looking up into Reggie's dark eyes. This gigantic muscular black man towered over her and Bill and gave Melissa a bad vibe.

"Peace," Reggie replied, looking at Melissa hungrily. He noticed Melissa's slight hesitancy as he took her hand, her diamond engagement ring and wedding band giving him brief glimpses of rainbows in their sparkle. Blood rushed to his penis. As quickly as a teenage boy stealing a first kiss, he formed a very big and hard erection. His suit jacket helped conceal the horrific bulge Melissa somehow failed to see in his pants. She probably never fucked a black man before either, Reggie correctly surmised.

Perhaps by chance or iniquitous intervention, the situation began to favor Reggie's lustful desires. Reverend Doyle was not finished yet...

"Bill Morgan, Scott and Lisa Fridas, and Larry Smith, come on up here," Reverend Doyle beckoned in labored breaths, his fat, bloated gut spilling over his belt.

Melissa's husband left her side to join the other four individuals summoned by Reverend Doyle.

"Let's hear a round of applause for these good folks who have graciously volunteered to be part of our missionary group leaving for Peru next week to spread the word of our Lord, Jesus. We are going to be gone for three weeks, but all of you need to be here praying for us. Brother Tom Gavin will be on the pulpit leading services," Reverend Doyle announced to Reggie's elation.

Melissa's husband was leaving for three entire weeks. Reggie never missed an opportunity to get inside a stuck-up white woman's panties, and the good Reverend Doyle just revealed his next chance. Reggie smiled to himself – perhaps going to church was not such a bad thing after all, even though he served a different master.

That autumn Sunday, church departed to an unusually mild sunlit afternoon – a joyous day bathed in amber that perfectly reflected Melissa's radiance in a last gasp of summer.

Bill's luggage packed with clothes, toiletries, and most importantly, a copy of the Bible, sat by the front door waiting as he perched on the sofa with Melissa and read a final verse of scripture to her before his departure. Mattthew 25:35 – 25:40 seemed quite apropos given the nature of his upcoming trip to some impoverished village in the jungles of South America:

"For I was hungered, and you gave me meat: I was thirsty, and you gave me drink: I was a stranger and you took me in..."

Melissa heard Reverend Doyle's vehicle approaching up the long driveway from the main road as Bill finished the passage. She had tried talking Bill out of this ridiculous trip. Two years ago, when Bill discovered Jesus, his involvement with the church increased, to where it now occupied so much of their lives. She tolerated Bill's zealousness, even though she did not share it, because she loved him. She had even followed him from their previous home in the city to this backwoods location. She went through all the motions for Bill – joining the choir, going to Bible study and prayer groups – yet secretly, instead of unshakable faith everyone in the congregation shared, Melissa sometimes doubted. A tiny notion she successfully suppressed kept trying to resurface from her deepest, darkest thoughts that perhaps all these people kidded themselves and God was no more real than Santa Claus.

Scott Fridas and Larry Smith sallied from Reverend Doyle's SUV to help Bill load his luggage. Lisa, Scott's wife, sauntered over to Melissa, whose effulgent smile appeared dimmer than usual, as the men greeted one another and began rearranging suitcases.

"Don't worry about Bill. We'll take good care of him," Lisa said hugging Melissa. "You really should have come with us."

They had invited both Bill and Melissa to join their mission to a small, poor village near Abancay in Peru. However, she did not want to spend the next six weeks battling insects in some third world country lacking civilized amenities. It was bad enough living out in the sticks here. "I know," Melissa replied. "But winter is coming and someone needs to keep an eye on things around the house."

Bill turned to his lovely wife whose beautifully slender figure and gorgeous face had caused heads to turn since her late teens, and still caused the same reaction now in her late twenties, garnering jealousy from a number of female parishioners. Bill hugged and kissed her goodbye. "I'll write," he said hopping into the front passenger side of the SUV beside Reverend Doyle. He hauled the heavy door closed with a thud and waved from the other side of its window as they pulled away.

Melissa watched Reverend Doyle's SUV become smaller as its distance from her grew, until only the faint red glow of its tail lights remained, brighter for a moment as it slowed to take a far-off curve, then disappearing as if swallowed by the surrounding forest.

Once at the airport several flights would bring Bill and his group to that far-away country with limited internet access. For the next several weeks, Melissa's primary method of communicating with him would be reminiscent of an earlier generation that wrote letters on paper, placed them in envelopes and sent them with stamps via Postal Service.

In waning dusk, Melissa stood staring at the empty roadway and the grey trees ascending towards aphotic clouds of a looming storm. A north wind caused her to shiver as the temperature precipitously dropped.

A few miles away, the newer member of their church planned some missionary work of his own, serving a different master everyone in the congregation knew all too well and avoided.

Isolated among the barren woods of late autumn, beneath a cold, dark, starless sky, the house sat. From its chimney, wind whisked away puffs of grey smoke and howled of an approaching storm to dormant, grey trees with branches twisted like elongated arthritic fingers. Melissa faced the fireplace languorously balled up at the end of the sofa as snow and sleet began pelting the windows. With Bill away, she took a long needed break from Biblical passages, and decided to find some entertaining reading on her Kindle.

Reggie Johnson went to their church but followed a different faith that commanded self-indulgence with beautiful female flesh, and required a Host to consecrate. A non-believer might call it luck, but it seemed as if an uncanny force protected Reggie. He sexually assaulted women for years – disrupting marriages and lives – without repercussion.

The lights flickered and went dark as the storm brought down a distant power line. In this remote area, cell phone coverage was spotty and Melissa could never get a signal from inside the house. She had firewood and decided to wait until the storm passed to go outside and call the power company. She longed for Bill to snuggle with and keep her warm and safe as she watched the flames dance in radiant yellow and orange brilliance that spilled tall, wavering shadows into the lonely room.

A frantic pounding on the door startled Melissa and interrupted her musings. Alone in the middle of the evening, the nearest neighbors miles away, she put down her Kindle to cautiously investigate.

"Who is it?" Melissa shouted from behind the door.

The incessant pummeling on the door stopped.

"I'm Reggie Johnson, your neighbor from up the road. I'm stuck out here and need help, please," a voice that sounded vaguely familiar replied. Melissa did not recognize the name, but the passage Bill had read to her earlier – "helping a stranger in need" – spoke to her now.

A clatter from the lock turning brought a smile to Reggie he quickly replaced with a brooding frown when the door opened.

Melissa opened the door to an onslaught of wind and sleet and a flood of chill night air that instantly displaced the warmth inside the house and caused the flames in the fireplace to shudder. In the gloom, she did not recognize the gigantic, imposing figure standing at her doorway. "Come in," she encouraged, moving to the side, guardedly allowing the dark figure to pass and hurriedly shutting the door behind him. "The power's out," she explained leading him with the poise of a ballet dancer from the shadowy hallway toward the warm fireplace.

In light cast by the fire, Melissa recognized the figure covered in melting snow and ice that formed puddles beneath his galoshes as the huge black man who greeted her in Church. He removed mitten-covered hands from the pockets of his dark blue ski jacket and appreciatively waved them above the genial flames.

The uneasy feeling Reggie had given her in church returned, but she ignored her instincts. How could she turn him away in a dangerous storm and call herself a Christian? "What in heaven's name are you doing out on a night like this?" Melissa asked.

In silk pajamas that loosely followed the developed curves of Melissa's young, athletic body, it took every ounce of willpower to stop his eyes from devouring her and revealing his intentions.

"I saw the storm coming and thought I better try to get gasoline for my generator and some firewood. When I got to town, the store had closed already. I tried to get back home but my truck slid off the road and got stuck a mile back from here," Reggie explained peeling off his wet mittens and sticking them in his jacket pocket.

Melissa thought about this situation for a moment – the inappropriateness of a strange black man alone with her at night with her husband away. She did not like this scenario, but in good conscience, she could not refuse Reggie lodging while the storm raged. She answered sympathetically: "Well you can't go out with it storming like this. You'll freeze to death. Let me take your jacket to dry before you catch cold." She went to help him remove a backpack he was wearing so he could take off the jacket, but he stopped her.

"I've got it," Reggie said. "It's pretty heavy." He placed the backpack on the hardwood floor leaning it against the end of the sofa. Melissa hung his ski jacket over the back of a chair and left his galoshes by the fire to dry.

With his puffy jacket off, Melissa noticed large muscles bulging beneath Reggie's shirt and wondered what type of strenuous physical labor he performed to make them so big. Reggie was handsome, but she was not attracted to black men. His strong facial structure looked like it had been sculpted in marble with smooth dark brown skin; short kinky black hair on top; wet, black eyes like obsidian.

Melissa took a sip of tea she had prepared earlier, now lukewarm, and saw Reggie watching her. "I'm sorry I can't make you some with the power out. Would you like something cold to drink? Ice water perhaps?" she joked.

"Actually, I am a little thirsty, but you can hold the ice," answered Reggie.

Melissa minced her way to the kitchen nursing the fragile flame from a candle. When she left the room, Reggie leaned over to where his backpack sat next to the couch, silently retracted its zipper enough to slide his hand inside, and procured a vial he had brought for this special occasion, spiking her tea with a dose of the clear liquid – the finest date rape formulation available.

Snow and sleet fell outside and frigid wind strained through crevices in the old, drafty structure as Melissa groped in the dimly lit cupboard for a glass. It began to look like this black man, a practical stranger, might have to stay the night – a prospect that did not sit well with her.

Reggie was zippering his backpack closed as Melissa returned with a glass of water. "As soon as it lets up, we'll call someone," she stated. It was a tactful hint. She did not want him here any longer than necessary. "Sorry my cell phone doesn't work in the house."

"We can't get anyone to come out in this weather now anyway, I guess," Reggie answered as Melissa returned to the other end of the sofa.

Melissa sipped from her half-full cup, the cold giving the tea a slightly different, vaguely salty, but not distasteful flavor, she thought, smacking her lips together and finishing the soupcon remaining.

"Have you lived here long?" Melissa asked, forgetting about the bad vibe she received from Reggie and finding herself in a more talkative mood.

"About four months."

"Where are you from?"

Reggie paused a moment not wanting to reveal too much about himself and thinking about his answer. He wanted her to speak more and tell him everything about herself. "Ashville," he lied. "How about you," he asked, encouraging a garrulousness uncharacteristic in her the drug induced.

Unusual exhilaration and a girlish silliness she had buried years ago bubbled to her surface and she opened more to him, providing her entire life history it seemed in speech becoming increasingly slurred and less coherent.

Reggie comfortably reclined and put his arm around her shoulders, his touch strangely redolent of her first loves, and smiled into her face as he adjusted an extremely large bulge in his pants. Melissa saw the curved outline of his immense manhood strain against the fabric, reach above his left hip, and practically pop out the waistband of his trousers! She realized something was wrong. She tried standing and almost fell, but Reggie jumped up and caught her.

"Whoa, you're in no condition to walk," Reggie said, holding Melissa against him. She was everything he sought in a woman – a beautiful face, a perfect little body and white. Something about stuck-up white women in particular made Reggie extra horny.

Tight in Reggie's arms, she tried to recoil from the hardness of his penis that pushed through his pants and into her tummy.

"Get hands off. Let ... go," She babbled – nausea and grogginess setting in.

"What's the matter? You're not feeling well, baby?" Reggie asked with a heinous smile.

She stared at him with a vacant look, like someone heavily drugged and on an intense trip.

"I better get you in bed; you probably have the flu or something."

Reggie set Melissa on the sofa and with the candle she had used earlier, searched her house, finding her cellphone, its charger and a set of keys on the kitchen table, and in one of the rooms a computer.

When he returned to the living room with the items he had found – Melissa's phone and keys in his pocket, the phone charger and computer power cord in his hand – Melissa was gone, the front door left open as an invitation for cold, wind and sleet.

Reggie grabbed a flashlight from his backpack. The darkness seemed to swallow him as he went into the frigid night to find her.

He discovered Melissa slumped over the hood of her locked car. He held the car's keys, along with her cellphone, in his pocket. Snow covered Melissa; still in pajamas, she was soaked and freezing.

Atop Melissa's chiffonier a solitary candle glimmered, her somber bedroom filled with shadows and chill. Behind purple lips, her teeth chattered as she shivered in Reggie's arms. The potent drug attenuated her kicks, strikes, and desperate squirms.

Reggie plopped her into bed, his immense cock hard and aching to soothe itself in her tight pussy. First, he needed to treat Melissa's hypothermia. "We've got to get these wet pajamas off you right away," he said starting to unbutton her top. Although her fingers scrabbled to keep her buttons fastened, Melissa's full breasts and tight stomach appeared as Reggie ultimately succeeded in undoing the piece and it dangled open.

"No, leave alone," she slurred, clutching the open, wet garment to her chest as he sat her up and grappled it from her. Off Melissa's shoulders and down her arms the pajama top finally came with several hard tugs, Reggie tossing it from the bed. Her shaky arm crossed over her chest concealing her nipples that had hardened from cold. Reggie shoved her down. His fingers slid inside the waistbands of her pajama bottoms and panties and bunched them in his fists. He yanked fiercely. The sodden silk garments came off her hips, down her legs, and reunited with her top somewhere on the floor. Naked on her back beneath him, arm covering her breasts, hand over her vagina, and shivers so severe the entire bed trembled as if part of her.

Reggie managed to undress and straddle Melissa, her body writhing beneath him.

A glimpse in the shadows left Melissa doubting her own eyes – his penis could not possibly be that large.

"This will get you warm," Reggie said. He rested his naked, muscular body on top of Melissa, sinking her into the mattress.

"Get off," Melissa groaned through clenched teeth, her hands ineffectively pushing at his sides, her nipples poking into his chest. The sensation of his monstrous penis pressing against her, its warmth and hardness reaching above her belly button, confirmed what she saw in the shadows.

Melissa's body thawed from Reggie's warmth. The powerful drug caused her to drowse as he stroked her soft, flowing hair. He nibbled her neck and her nipples perked into him more. "That's it baby. Just let me keep you warm," Reggie whispered. The flames in the living room fireplace died and the temperature throughout the house dropped further. His hand briefly stopped by his mouth, and with saliva on its fingers descended between her legs.

As the candle in her room dimmed, Melissa's consciousness followed a similar course drifting toward delirium. For brief intervals she hallucinated in the darkness – Reggie became Bill; they shared tender moments – and she stopped resisting. During these instances Reggie established a foothold, extended boundaries, secured concessions, and seized additional territory from her.

"Ooh, Bill, please," Melissa whimpered as Reggie culled her clitoris from her soft, silky folds and petted her tiny, pink friend –awakening it from dormancy into swollen arousal. A few minutes later, realizing he was not Bill, she protested, "No, stop it!" Her fingers dug into Reggie's wrist and tried unsuccessfully to pull his hand away from her vagina.

"Don't fight it!" Reggie thundered, viciously twisting her nipples and slapping her face. The tactic worked and stunned Melissa – he held her down and resumed masturbating her. Her fidgeting subsided with another hallucination and an opportunity for him. Reggie reached down to her inner thigh and coaxed one leg further away from the other. His fingers parted her labia and exposed her private, pink place glistening with secretions. He descended to her pussy and its warmth touched his face; its fragrant female scent reached his nostrils; its sweet nectar bathed his taste buds as he began licking. Her pelvis undulated briefly.

"Oh God, please don't," she cried, suddenly realizing again that this was not Bill. Bill never committed sinful sexual acts like cunnilingus. A strange man was performing oral sex on her. Her hands pushed against Reggie's nappy head, but his mouth remained on her pussy. "Oh, please, Bill, oh, Bill, Bill..." she cried in stupor. Each time she repeated Bill's name, her shoves to Reggie's head diminished in force. In her mind, phantasms of Bill returned, replacing the awful reality. Once more, her resistance waned and her hands came to gently rest on Reggie's head allowing him to proceed...

The candle flame turned into a tiny bead and the room became almost completely dark. Reggie pushed his big fat cock against Melissa's entrance. He wanted to get inside her now, while she remained receptive, before her lucidity returned, her hallucinations passed and she resisted again. His penis greatly dwarfed Bill's, and her vagina had difficulty accommodating it. He pushed harder and harder until her vaginal lips finally stretched open enough, admitting the head of his cock.

"It hurts this time, Bill," she cried, finding it increasingly difficult to enunciate words properly. Bill's cock felt different – bigger. It seemed to open her up with an incredible friction that never existed before.

Reggie exclaimed, "Oh, you feel so good," to the soothing relief of dipping his aching cock into her tight, wet, silky cunt. "It's okay, baby, I'm in now – I'll go easy."

"Ow, no, it really hurts ... feels different," Melissa whimpered as Reggie slowly, but steadily, inserted more of his length into her. "Take it out," she bleated as her pussy stretched way beyond dimensions suiting Bill.

"You'll get used to it, baby, and start loving it soon," Reggie said, less than half his gargantuan cock fitting in her when it bottomed out and began its slow retreat.

"Don't, ow, ow – ooh..." Melissa began to moan in synchronization with Reggie's gentle thrusts – a creeping, steady cadence like a car's windshield wipers set on low on a drizzly night.

Reggie's fleshy cock pulled her tightly stretched vaginal labia in the direction it travelled. Beguiled, Melissa thought Bill felt so different tonight. It had been a while since she had sex with him, their love life diminished from when they first married. The sensations from Reggie, unlike any she had ever experienced, became less unpleasant as her pussy adapted to its new mate.

Remembering the reaction in Melissa's nipples from earlier, Reggie began nibbling her neck and worked his way to each of her ears.

"Ooh sweatheart," Melissa gasped. Her hands glided up his muscular back and embraced him.

"Does my cock feel good in your tight, little pussy?" Reggie asked. He locked his lips to hers before she could reply.

Bill never spoke that way to her or used those ugly, vulgar words. Melissa's hands slid up to Reggie's head as they French kissed. The nappy hair could not be Bill's – nor the incredible muscles, the gigantic body, and most disturbing of all, the huge piston working inside her. Melissa turned her head to get Reggie's tongue out of her mouth and break their kiss. "Please stop – get off me," she began to cry realizing that she was having intercourse with someone other than her husband.

"I can't stop now baby, you got me started and I've got to finish," Reggie answered.

Melissa could not remember how they started fucking like this, but they were "doing it" and this was unlike her. Yes, there had been a couple of boyfriends, but she was always faithful to Bill. Since their marriage, not once had she considered another man – especially a black one!

No chance this huge bull – the way he went at it with her – was ever going stop or pull out before cuming. She realized something even more worrisome than her unfaithfulness to her husband. It did not feel like Reggie was wearing a condom and she was not on any type of birth control.

"Please ... stop," Melissa murmured. "Married ... adultery ... pregnant."

Reggie comprehended the fragmented thoughts Melissa verbalized in spite of the kickass drug he had given her. The prospect of impregnating her had the opposite effect on him. Knocking-up a white woman gave him a sense of accomplishment; it bonded her with his race, and left no choice in loving a reminder of her rape.

"Don't worry. I'll take it out before I cum, baby," Reggie tried reassuring her. They both knew he would not keep this promise. It felt too good. This act had to run its course.

"Ooh," Melissa, gasped as his cock sawed in and out and rubbed a sensitive spot beneath her clitoris never stimulated during intercourse before. No one she had ever been with had a penis this large. Confused and high she moaned while succumbing to pleasure briefly.

"No, can't. Isn't right," Melissa suddenly babbled again as she felt orgasm approach.

"Shhh, just relax. No one's going to find out and I'm going to take it out soon," Reggie said.

The candle flame that had turned to a blue speck finally burned out. Now in complete darkness, some very distinguishable sounds filled the room – the splashing of their body fluids mixing, the squeaking of bedsprings that announced his every movement into her, Melissa's moans of despair that perhaps contained a hint of something more, and the incessant howl from the raging storm outside.

"Ooh, oh, oh, God please, no," Melissa mewled. It was too late. She was cuming; her pussy was squeezing Reggie's cock uncontrollably and no words, no actions could conceal this physical truth occurring between them. And God was not going to help her.

"That's it, baby, that's what I want. I want you to cum for me and show me how much you love me – love my big black cock," Reggie goaded as Melissa's fingernails dug into his muscular biceps.

Melissa could only squeal between heavy breaths in response. How could any civilized man refer to this debasing act as love? She could never love any part of him, even if he made it feel like butterflies in her thighs and abdomen; like driving a car over the crest of a hill in steep descent; like ascending too fast and too high on a swing. She never experienced multiple orgasms before. Extra-marital sex with this black man, however, was horrible and disgusting. She despised Reggie for somehow seducing her and her body for betraying her.

The pairing caused Melissa multiple climaxes she could not stop. She was unable to keep track, but Reggie counted her cum 12 times when he finally allowed himself to orgasm.

Melissa noticed Reggie's thrusts accelerating. He banged into her with greater force. His muscles grew harder from tension inside him reaching a boiling point. But in the middle of orgasm herself, she ignored the signs.

"Oh, baby, I'm going to cum," Reggie announced.

"Take it out now," Melissa cried. The inertia was too great, like trying to stop a locomotive. Neither of them could do anything to alter this physical course. Her pussy milked his cock and his cock began feeding her pussy his cum.

Reggie remained on top of Melissa after they finished having sex. She felt his big, flaccid penis still inside her and his copious ejaculate oozing out.

"You need to go," Melissa mumbled, mispronouncing words, still high from the drug, and trying to push Reggie off her.

Reggie rolled off Melissa – his fat, lengthy penis, now slack, sliding all the way out of her with a plop – and replied, "I can't leave. There's a blizzard out there. You're feverish and I need to keep an eye on you."

Had she been sick? Melissa recalled not feeling well and almost freezing to death outside in the snow.

Reggie pulled Melissa's hair and shoved her face into his slimy penis. "Now suck my cock," he growled at her. She had never performed oral sex, and such a dirty, sinful act – especially with a strange black man – repulsed her. A combination of pain, fear and inebriation left Melissa with no choice even though this was horribly wrong. In darkness, her mouth found Reggie's shaft and the taste of their body fluids not as distasteful as she anticipated. Somehow she found herself rolling his big, heavy balls in her hand.

"That's it, just like that, baby," Reggie cooed, releasing her hair.