Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote any unlawful activity such as is depicted in the story. By continuing to read this work you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character that they are depicting but they remain at all times adults.
Writer: Rowan
Subject: Her Sunday Best
Link: LS666 Email / 17.04.2024
Her Sunday Best
I have been a follower of your site for the last two years or so. I enjoy it so very much. My name is Rowan. I am a pastor that has deconstructed my Christian faith although I continue to preach from the pulpit. I have read of other clergy on your site, and many feel conflict or shame. I, too went through that for a time, but not anymore.
I am no longer a believer. Haven’t been a faithful believer in years. So why do I continue to lead a church? I can’t wait to tell you. Every Sunday, a single mom sits on the front pew. Her aging father is almost blind and has trouble hearing. She lovingly sits arm and arm. Beside her is a beautiful with long brunette curls, olive skin, and gorgeous green eyes.
Always in her Sunday best dress. Halfway through the sermon, she becomes restless. Fidgeting and whispering. Her mother gives her an iPad to occupy her. Soon, she is engrossed, and she always props her feet in the pew. Her dress rides up, her legs splayed and every Sunday I gaze at her panty-clad crotch. On some occasions, for unknown reasons, she will be without underwear and her beautiful bald pussy is displayed throughout my sermon.
On one Easter Sunday, we were scheduled to baptize a young girl. Her sister came forward and begged to be baptized as well. Without dry clothes her mother was reluctant. But, we worked it out. We used a children’s choir robe. She undressed and put on the robe. When she stepped into the baptiztry and entered the water, the robe billowed out and floated up beneath her arms. She stood wide-eyed. I whispered to her letting her know, that no one could see below her shoulders.
She relaxed. The gin-clear waters gave me a view of her naked body. Her perfect hairless mound. Dark pink nipples atop two small mounds of flesh. When she exited, the robe relaxed, but bunched at her waist revealing her thirteen-year-old ass. More than once, I have had a wife, or mother on their knees behind my desk. There have been more instances that I can’t write about here without some sort of disclaimer, so I will let that go for now.
But, what happened two weeks ago, really keeps me coming back. A young girl, not yet old enough to drive, called and asked for an appointment to speak with me. My door is always open to them. She was tearful. She told a story, in quite detail about how her father used to touch her. That led to him having oral sex with her.
He left the picture. and now her mother has a long-term boyfriend. Three months ago, he began to walk in on her in the shower. That led to him watching her dress. That led to groping, then fingering. Now she has been awakened from her sleep, with him between her legs eating her pussy. Last week, they fucked. Her mother watched. She is confused because she admits that she likes it. She admitted he made her cum the second time he went down on her. And, she admitted that he came inside her, and it felt good.
We are meeting again this week, for more discussion. When she left, I reached into my bottom drawer pulled out my bottle of scotch, and remembered why, even though I no longer believe, I am still here every Sunday.