THE PREACHER’S WIFE 6 by JACKIE

Feature Writer: Jackie

Feature Title: The Preacher’s Wife 6

Published: Leslita Stories

Story Codes: Lesbian Lolita, Religious

Synopsis: This is a work of erotic fiction involving lesbian and straight sex in a religious setting. No disrespect of any church or religion is intended. If you are offended by religious references within erotic literature please do not read this story.

The Preacher’s Wife 6

The preacher’s wife took their naked ward by the hand “Come on sweetie I need to make sure you’re ready for this.” Over her shoulder she said to her minister husband; “You can come up in about ten minutes.”

In the Koch’s bedroom Agnes sat the highly aroused and somewhat bewildered teen on the edge of the bed. “Put your feet up here honey” the preacher’s wife instructed pushing the girl’s dangling feet up against her butt. With a light outward pressure on the adolescent knees the slender thighs parted and Agnes was treated to a view of the girl’s cum drenched split peach between the silky columns. It was hard to separate the labial folds because they were so slippery. It didn’t help that Rachel’s hips were spasming.

“Hold still sweetie,” the kneeling woman commanded. “I need to see what your cherry looks like.” The teenager could feel the intense heat building up in her abdomen again. Missus Koch’s breath on her overheated and saturated pussy lips was making her crazy but she did her best not to move.

Agnes wanted nothing more than to drink down every drop of the nectar that was so freely flowing but she had a job to do. She was finally able to expose the virginal vestibule and was very pleased to see that fingers and tampons had done serious damage to the membrane guarding the entrance. It wouldn’t be without trauma but fortunately Syd wasn’t hung like Zack so he could probably finish the obliteration of the girl’s hymen with minimal pain.

The preacher’s wife felt her preacher husband behind her and turned to see the sixty plus year old rod waving in front of the grey pubic nest. For a moment she was tempted to wrap her mouth around his engorged member but decided that he was going to have more stimulation than he could stand inside the hot tight recesses of their teenaged ward. Agnes scooted up onto the bed beside the girl as Syd advanced, lance at the ready. His wife stroked the chestnut locks from the teenager’s face and whispered, “just relax sweetheart.”

Rachel felt the pastor’s cock head wipe up and down her throbbing crease, locating the point of entry. When he felt centered the preacher pushed very gently feeling the spongy teenaged lips envelope the end of his glans. The sensation was so intense that he feared he might climax before he even achieved penetration. To Rachel the pressure against her introitus made her want to thrust her hips but her mentor was still cooing in her ear, “Be still sweetie just wait.”

She looked up at her husband and saw the strain on his face. “Go slow Syd, nice and easy.” It was anything but easy. The grey haired minister applied increasing pressure with his hips but all that happened was the mind bending sensation on the end of his penis got almost intolerable. Then as if some magical gate had opened he penetrated the tattered hymen and slid half the depth of his dick into the steaming interior. The feel of the soft wet tissues gripping the head and shaft of his cock tighter and more deliciously than anything he could ever recall sent bolts of pleasure into his balls and up his belly.

Rachel felt a sharp burning sensation as the divine member slipped into her channel. The pain was brief and minor compared to the ecstatic waves of joy that were sweeping through her. Syd pushed in to the hilt and the prone teenager began to buck and thrust. His dick hadn’t been this hard in years and the virgin pussy gripped the stone hard shaft tighter than he had ever gripped it with his hand. The interior was nothing like the surface of a hand.

The soft delicate tissues that clamped down on his penis felt like the finest velvet only better. He was rocking his hips back and forth which seemed to compliment Rachel’s up and down hip movement. Agnes desperately wanted to finger her throbbing womanhood as she observed the carnal scene but knew that she had to stay alert for the out of control participants.

The preacher’s wife was glad that the teenager orgasmed so quickly. The girl’s climactic scream gave her just the margin of error she needed. Getting to her knees, so she was close to her husband’s sweat streaked face she rubbed her hands on his hairy chest and said firmly, “Don’t cum inside her honey.” The critical moment for the reverend was seconds away but the sage advice managed to penetrate the pre-orgasmic haze.

He pulled his ready to explode wand out just in time. His darling wife wrapped her talented mouth around the surging organ and sucked down the creamy load that came out in three explosive bursts. Pastor Koch crumpled to his knees and grabbed his balls to massage away the ache. The pain was actually somewhat comforting since it affirmed that his family jewels had not just been ejaculated out the end of his still twitching dick.

The teenager had rolled on her side and had both hands between her legs. Agnes redirected the pussy juice on her face from her husband’s cock that had missed her mouth. She thought it was an amazing taste sensation the girl’s cum mixed with her man’s. The preacher’s wife knew the teenager was going to be sore for a day or two so she leaned over their moaning ward and said “Come on sugar what you need is a nice warm bath. It’ll be soothing.”

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Weeks passed and the emotional and physical bond between the unlikely threesome strengthened. It wasn’t a non stop orgy but the norm in the Koch household fostered a carnal atmosphere. Their love for each other grew way out and beyond the sexual plane.

It was mid morning on the fateful day. Agnes was surprised to hear the front door open and close. ‘Syd must have forgotten something’ she reasoned. Drying her hands on her apron she poked her head around the door frame of the kitchen into the entry hall. “What did you…? “Her voice trailed off. One look at her husband’s ashen tear streaked face told her something was dreadfully wrong. He looked at her and his eyes pierced her heart. He just stood there in the door and the raven haired woman realized he was shaking. “Honey what’s wrong?” she said stepping toward her lean grey haired partner.

“They’re gone…” the words came as a tiny squeak from somewhere deep in his throat. His arms were around her and he seemed to almost collapse against her sobbing violently. It wasn’t as though Agnes had never seen him cry before. He was a passionate emotional man, but never like this. His body shook and shuddered and the sounds he made were heart wrenching.

‘What did he mean… They’re gone?’

Agnes wasn’t even sure she’d heard the words correctly. She was sure that she couldn’t support the weight he was putting on her so she managed to maneuver him into the living room and get them both seated on the couch. His face was still buried in her neck and his tears were soaking her top but the sobbing and shuddering seemed to have subsided a little. When she thought he might have regained enough composure to respond she asked him again “what is it honey? What’s gotten you so upset?” without releasing his grip on her or raising his head he took a deep shaky breath.

“They came in the night… and they… they… burned it…” the squeaky whisper disintegrated into more sobbing. Agnes was getting very upset herself and she did even know why; only that anything that could devastate the preacher like this must be bad. Lifting his head by the chin and looking into his red swollen eyes, the preacher’s wife tried to get back to the point,

“You said they’re gone. What did you mean?”

“Rachel’s parents, Al and Nancy… they’re… Oh Jesus… they’re dead!” the sentence had started in a croaky whisper and ended in a bone chilling wail. The words hit Agnes like a sledge hammer. She felt the lump growing in her throat even before the meaning had fully sunk in.

“No, no it can’t be… how do you know… it must be wrong…” Sydney Koch’s gorgeous wife denied his news as her own tears began to flow. It was just what the doctor ordered. Seeing his wife’s tears of grief begin to fall the pastor was able to get control of his own emotions and assume his more familiar role as the quintessential comforter. He hugged the woman of his dreams tightly and whispered in a fairly controlled, if croaky voice

“The rebels came to the school last night. They just started shooting… killing people indiscriminately. Al and Nancy herded the children into the school for safety and they… they burned it… down… with them… in… side” in spite of the fact that the end of the explanation trailed off into a high pitched sob the words were clear enough for the now weeping woman to understand what the minister was saying. Understanding the true meaning and the impact of the news was going to take days, if not weeks. They held each other and cried for a long time.

Eventually the physically and emotionally exhausted couple parted. Syd slid off the edge of the sofa, and twisted around so that he was on his knees, his face on the seat cushions. He began to pray silently. Agnes joined him. The scene was eerily similar to one that had played out in the missionary’s residence six months ago when Al and Nancy Percival had beseeched God for guidance on whether to take their only daughter back to the mission field. Even as Pastor Koch prayed for the souls of the departed missionaries he was thanking the Almighty for the guidance that had kept the teenager in the States; otherwise she’d be dead too.

Agnes didn’t know the girl’s parents the way her husband did. Her mourning was for the precious teenager that she had come to adore. ‘How can we tell her?’ she pleaded for an answer from above.

When the minister felt he had sufficiently petitioned for the safe passage into heaven for his fallen comrades he remained on his knees. The overwhelming guilt that now consumed his mind was so powerful that it displaced the grief. ‘I sent them into that danger… it’s my fault that she… she’s lost her parents.’ his love for the chestnut haired teenager was no less powerful than his wife’s. The tears began to flow again as his heart poured out for the cherished child. Agnes pulled him to his feet and practically dragged the spent sixty year old clergyman to the bedroom. They collapsed on their marital bed and slept in each others arms.

It was mid afternoon when the minister slipped from his sleeping wife’s embrace and took a long hot shower. As the revitalizing spray cascaded over him he prayed for the strength to see his ward through this catastrophe. It was of course part of his job to counsel and console the grief stricken. He was an expert on the process and felt as though he was already at stage three but he knew that regression was common.

Pastor Koch put on a fresh white dress shirt and tucked it into his black suit pants before making his way to his study. At his desk he scoured the familiar appropriate biblical passages over and over wiping the tears before they fell on the parchment. Agnes appeared in the door dressed in her jade robe. She set the coffee on the desk beside his Bible, touched his shoulder and left without saying a word.

Syd took a long slug of the deep brown liquid and coughed. It was heavily laced with whiskey, which he decided was not such a bad idea. The drug did its work and an artificial serenity descended. When he heard the front door open and close he knew the second most painful moment of his life was at hand.

Delivering the news to the teenager was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Rachel screamed and wailed inconsolably for hours until sleep finally, mercifully over took her.

The days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months. With the passage of time the grief and sense of loss shrunk until in was a hard compressed nugget in the bottom of their hearts. Some situations and dates poked the nugget and made it swell. Special occasions like birthdays, Christmas and anniversaries always had that affect.

The Koch’s began adoption proceedings a few months after the tragedy. Their standing in the community and the fact that the youngster had been entrusted to the preacher and his wife, by her parents before their death, made the process of legalizing the arrangement just a formality.

Rachel’s high school graduation three years later was one of those events that poked at the hard nugget. The sense of injustice at the missionary couple not being there for this milestone in their daughter’s life weighted heavily on the little family. Syd looked skyward, letting the tears stream into his ears as the chestnut haired eighteen year old accepted her diploma. His faith assured him that Al and Nancy were smiling down on the auspicious occasion.

As with all freshmen, Rachel’s first year of college was a major adjustment. Away from home she devoted herself to her studies with compulsive zeal. Agnes returned to her trolling ways. She founded a youth group within the church which yielded a fresh crop of nubile adolescents annually. Syd never forgave himself for the Percival’s death and was never quite the same. In Rachel’s junior year the preacher retired where upon his health deteriorated rapidly. Agnes spent more and more of her time caring for her beloved husband. Their step daughter returned home after graduation to help out. The presence of the vivacious twenty three year old in the house lifted their spirits but unfortunately did little to assuage the ravages of guilt that sapped the young old man’s vitality. Rachel’s helping out with Agnes’s youth group made the transition to where the chestnut haired young woman simply took over seem very natural.

Watching her step daughter by the pool with the girls of the church group, the preacher’s wife couldn’t help being reminded of her own youth and the times with Amy Mitchell and her mother. It seemed so long ago now. There was nothing scientific about the age range for the church group. The youngest was twelve and the oldest sixteen. It happened to be the age range Agnes preferred and she was never asked to justify it.

The Saturday swimming pool get-togethers in the Koch’s backyard, when the weather was right, seemed to be the highlight of Syd’s life. He would sit in the wheel chair, which he used more, and more these days, and watched the girls splash around for hours. Agnes often joined him; slipping her hand under the blanket that covered her husband from the waist down she was sometimes able to tease his reticent member to a semi rigid state.

Ejaculations were rare but the preacher seemed to enjoy the pleasuring sensations in any case. The preacher’s wife was quite sure the frolicking youths took no notice of the towel across her own lap that hid the fingers sneaking through the leg hole of her bathing suit. Menopause had not robbed her of the ability to produce the slippery juice that lubricated the clit stroking. There was enough noise from the water play to easily drown out the climactic groans.

One girl stood out; there was always at least one. The red head named Brianna had joined the group last year at thirteen. Agnes and Rachel were dazzled by the girl’s development over the winter. Development that it seemed had not caught the attention of her parents, who allowed her to continue to wear last year’s leopard skin suit that couldn’t contain the pubescent development.

The preacher’s wife reminisced about the time with Amy’s cousin. She, at the behest of her best friend, had teased the poor virginal boy until he came in his pants, and it all started with a too small swim suit. Rachel had the youngster by the hand and headed for the house. They passed near enough to the older couple for Agnes to hear her step daughter saying

.”..it must be uncomfortable for you sweetie. I’m pretty sure I have something that will fit better…”

‘I gotta see this!’ the preacher’s wife resolved. She waited a minute before following the duo inside the residence. The house was much smaller that the specially constructed pastor’s home that the Koch’s of course had vacated when Syd retired. Still it was everything the little family required. The bungalow design made it much easier for the ailing minister to manage. Agnes moved with impressive stealth down the hall toward the bedrooms. Peeking around the corner she located her step daughter rummaging through a drawer with the teenager in the ill fitting one piece suit standing behind her.

“This might work” Rachel announced and held the top of a turquoise two piece in front of the red head’s chest. “What do you think?”

“It’s really pretty” the teenager said enthusiastically. She had been feeling more than a little uncomfortable in the undersized swimwear.

“Do you wanna try it on?”

“Uh huh” the sweet young thing agreed, and without any hint of modesty slipped the leopard skin straps off her shoulders and peeled the snugly clinging spandex down to her waist. The twin orange sized mounds that popped free looked much larger now that they were not being compressed by the stretchy material of the suit. Rachel felt the old familiar itch between her legs, and Agnes gasped in the hallway. Brianna’s skin was so fair that her tan was not noticeable until the areas that had no sun exposure came into view.

Her arms, shoulders, face and legs looked to be an average flesh tone; her breasts and belly in contrast were porcelain white. The areola on top of the developing boobies was such a delicate shade of pink that the blush on the teenager’s face right now seemed to be deeper colored. Cool air in the air conditioned house made the centers of the pale pink silver dollar sized circles poke out and appear to be a shade or two darker.

The teen seemed to have just realized that removing her top was no longer the casual event it used to be, before the emergence of her new chest adornments. The expression of playful amusement turned to one of nervous embarrassment as her face attained the reddish glow. Brianna reached for the halter but Rachel moved it away. “Honey this is a two piece suit,” the church group leader informed.

“We’re gonna have to get a thick coat of sun screen on you or your tummy and back I’ll be the color of cooked lobster before you get across the yard.” The youngster knew it was true. She had had enough painful sunburns not to argue. “Take your suit the rest of the way off and I’ll put some on for you.”

The crimson of the girl’s face extended down below her collar bone as she threaded the leopard print spandex over her feet and dropped it on the floor. She stood up with her hands cupped over her lightly furred mons. “Lie down on the bed on your tummy” Rachel commanded. The alabaster skinned teenager complied; thankful to have her most private development out of sight for the moment. The preacher’s step daughter warmed the SPF 30 cream in her hands before applying it to the girl’s upper back. Brie flinched. “I’m sorry it’s still cold isn’t it? It’ll get warmer now.”

‘Warmer!’ though Rachel, ‘if it gets any hotter I’m gonna melt.’ The heat in her crotch increased noticeably as her hands smeared the white cream over the silky warm flesh. The girl made a little sound when the older woman’s hand slid up the rise of her buttock.

“Wanna make sure the part just below the waist band is covered,” she said excusing the intimate touch. “That’s one of the worst places to get a burn, ’cause everything rubs on it.” The statement was true but it didn’t justify going all the way to the top of the pert hillock.

With another handful of lotion she started on the teenager’s right leg working her way up. Spreading the sun block up the back of the leg, then massaging it toward the outside and inside of the slender legs until one of her hands was directly between the soft thighs. Rachel could feel the heat radiating from the virginal girlhood at the apex. Brianna had begun to emit a low humming sound of contentment.

When the church group leader’s hand brushed the fine orange hairs surrounding the teens vulva the masseuse heard her softly grunt. The tantalizing application of sun screen was repeated on the left leg. Rachel’s pussy had begun to throb by the time she reached the girl’s crotch the second time. The little buttocks clenched and her pelvis made a quick circular thrusting motion when the skilled young lesbian let her hand brush more firmly on the pouting lips of the pubescent sex.

“OK flip over” the woman with the greasy hands directed. Rachel felt a surge go through her when the red head rolled over on her back. Painting the cream on the girl’s upper chest she was able to watch the dark pink nubs begin to emerge from the puffy nest of the soft pink areola. Spreading the sun block over the upper slopes of the developing mounds she noticed that Brianna’s eyes were closed and the teenager was biting her lip. The soft sort of humming sound was more evident now the she was face up.

‘She’s enjoying it,’ Rachel observed and her own neediness took over. The preacher’s step daughter was suddenly massaging the pert pubescent mounds with her slippery hands. “Ohhhhhh!” the prone teenager moaned but made no move to thwart the assault.

“It feels good doesn’t it?” Rachel asked while kneading the aroused teenager’s boobs. Brie made a sound that the masseuse took for an affirmative. Squeezing the tender pegs on top of the now glowing tits caused the tortured teen to emit a fairly loud wailing sound and begin to thrash about on the bed. Continuing to run her one hand over the girl’s breasts Rachel let her other hand wander down over the heaving tummy until her finger tips touched the fine red gold curls. “Do you ever rub down here?” she asked as her hand cupped the plump mons.

“Ughhhh, sometimes,” the fourteen year old groaned as the experienced fingers began to separate the thick outer lips.

“Do you know about this part?” Rachel questioned using two fingers to hold the vulva open and the middle one to gently stroke the exposed prepuce.

“Noooo!” the girl wailed and it was almost a scream. Her legs snapped together and she rolled on her side away from the stimulating hand. She did not however escape because her closed thighs entrapped the minister’s daughter’s hand and pulled the older woman onto the bed with her. Brianna was afraid she was going to pass out from the intensity of the pleasure the first semi direct contact with her clit spawned.

Agnes had tiptoed right up to the bedroom doorway. The girl’s feet where toward her and from the reclined position the teenager had no view of the door. Rachel’s was sort of sideways on the edge of the bed and would have had to twist pretty severely to see the door also. The preacher’s wife had her hand inside her swim suit bottoms rapidly strumming her rigid clit. ‘It’s just like thirty-five years ago’ she was thinking. ‘That’s me laying there and missus Mitchell checking out my pussy.’

Casting her step daughter in the role of the woman who had initiated her into lesbian lovemaking for some inexplicable reason pushed her over the edge. She hunched her nearly fifty year old hips and slid down the door post, somehow managing to hold the vocalization of her climax mostly in. She sat there panting for several tense seconds not really sure how much noise she had made.

A sly smile crossed Rachel’s lips as her step mom and mentor in the ways of lovemaking, lesbian and otherwise collapsed. She had known the older woman was there for sometime and hoped that the highly sexed minister’s wife wasn’t going to interrupt her fun. Right now she selfishly wanted the little red head all to herself.

It wasn’t the first time she’s applied the lessons she’d learned from her stepmother in guiding a pubescent young woman to begin to truly appreciate the pleasure her body was capable of. ‘I’m just like her in a lot of ways’ Rachel acknowledged. ‘It kinda speaks to the nature versus nurture debate in a way. I have become the new missus Koch, just like she became the new missus Mitchell.’

“Open up for me honey, I’ve got so much to show you,” the chestnut haired college grad suggested as she rolled the cooperative teenager onto her back once again.

THE END?