An Answered Prayer with the Pastor

So, I don’t really have a kink for things that are taboo. I mean I have kinks for plenty of things that are taboo but the tabooness of it doesn’t really do it for me. Or so I thought. As has been a pattern for me in my time as a digital slut, something isn’t “really for me” right up until it is.

I met Pastor Mark after a few hours of unsuccessful attempts of finding someone to cum with.

I just wasn’t able to connect with anyone. This is not a criticism. I chatted with some lovely people. One person really wanted to analyze my relationships and sexual identity. Another wasn’t that into me. Totally fine, and on any given night, I may be interested in talking rather than “talking,” but not that night.

By the time I met the good pastor, I was frustrated almost to the point of tears. I can’t remember the last time that I felt such an intense need to cum. Plus, I really just needed to get my ass back to sleep.

In response to my post, he wrote, “As a pent-up pastor, I have an almost limitless supply of lust and naughty thoughts. I’d love to chat with you before I get ready for church!”

Well, now, this sounded promising because he would need to get down to things right away. So I bit and lord have mercy, am I glad that I did.

Our roleplay took place in his church office, on a Sunday morning. (“I’ll need someone to help me relax before and after the stress of church.”) I’d come in for some counsel with my trusted minister. And, like one does, we imagined fucking in all of the positions. It was overflowing with religious imagery and language, and it was very, very naughty.

“You are an answered prayer.” I suggested.

“God knew we needed each other today.” He replied.

“Lay on my desk on your back, head hanging off the edge. I want to fuck your mouth and feel your tits.”

“I love your pussy. So cute and wet…Now show me how badly you want to be Pastor’s favorite.”

I told him and showed how motivated I was to take that role. He described filling me with fingers, rubbing, touching.

He taunted me, “Do you like being depraved with the pastor? Do you like how taboo this is?”

My request to pray was met with, “We can pray as we fuck.”

“Do you need more? Do you need my thick cock in your little wet hole? Do you need filled with the holy spirit?”

“I love you pastor just like I love the Lord. This pussy opening up for you. Like taking the sacrement.”

“I’m pushing in as deep as you will take me. ”

When we moved on to my asshole, he asked me to stand next to his desk and bend over it. “Show me where the Spirit wants you to take my cock. The pain is punishment for what we’re doing. The pleasure is your reward for being so selfless.”

“This is how you were meant to serve the church,” he reminded me.

When I was shaking and so close going over the edge, he urged me on, “Cum for Jesus. Cum for the Lord. Cum with my dick in your sinful ass!” The release was desperate and intense and I had to stop myself from squirting.

He was very gifted with language. I felt warmth of his breath, the weight of his body, the pumping of his hips, and the rush of warmth as he made me a vessel for Him.

“You are my good shepherd.” I cooed, “I’m thinking about what it would be like to be in your congregation after you’d fucked me. Maybe even with my pussy still drying on your cock.”

“Make sure you sit near the front in the service, so I can see everytime you open your legs.” He commanded.

I’ve had a lot of filthy conversations with people who do all kinds of work: engineers, lawyers, professors, tool and dye makers, waiters, musicians, teachers, barbers, stay at home dads. But I’ve never had a pastor. It was divine.

He hinted at making a holy trinity with his wife.