After Dan and Joan came down from their love nest in the choir loft and Dan saw Linda and Tommy leaving together, he offered Joan a ride home.
"Thanks, Dan, but Rick is coming for me. He should be here any minute, and… Jesus, Jesus, you'll have to excuse me, Dan. I have to piss something fierce." She clutched at her crotch and made a wild dash for the potty in the church basement.
Her bladder was overflowing and the insides of her thighs were wet from the leakage, the hot fluid squeezing out with every step she took. She'd felt the urge even before Dan fucked her in the loft, and it was unbearable now.
Rushing into the toilet stall, Joan lifted her skirt. Her piss poured out.
"Oh, my God," she giggled, remembering her panties were on the floor in the choir loft, and then sighed with relief as her bladder emptied. Her hand went between her wet legs and she sighed again.
What Joan didn't know, was that her soiled panties weren't on the floor in the choir loft; they were tucked snugly inside the breast pocket of the preacher's coat.
After she had finished, she continued to straddle the bowl, her skirt held high, and she rubbed briskly at her distended clit. It was feeling good already. It would be her third spend, the most in such a short time since having the baby. She was near her climax when she sensed his presence in the doorway. She looked up and saw the good Reverend holding the booth door open, his eyes aglow with lust, his mouth open.
"Please, please, let me kiss it!" he cried, his voice little more than a strangled gasp.
"Why preacher man, what are you doing here?" Joan cried in mock surprise.
She spread her legs farther apart and lifted her skirt higher, her hand working at her excited cunt.
"Do you want to look at it?" she said, removing her hand.
"I want to suck it. Please, please…"
Joan held her skirt high with both hands. "Why, Reverend, you're a naughty, naughty man," she said.
Her cunt was covered with curly hair several shades darker than her blonde head, and it was wet, decidedly wet. She stepped away from the bowl, moved her feet wide apart, and arched herself out to him in invitation.
"Well, don't just stand there like a dummy; suck it, if that's what you want."
The preacher dropped to his knees, grabbed her by the hips, and jammed his face into her curly bush. He sucked at the wet hair and ran his tongue back and forth in her gash. He moved his head down and kissed and licked the insides of her piss-wet thighs. He moved back up, and when his lips and tongue invaded the hairy thing between her legs, Joan gasped with pleasure and pushed down against his sucking mouth.
"Do you like it?" she purred, pushing hard against him. "The hair's not all grown out yet, but it's still nice and fuzzy for you to suck on. I have a lot of hair when it's all grown out."
Joan loved a head job best of all, and even though she had made it with Dan twice, she knew she would be quick in coming now. His tongue was deep in her cunt and his teeth scraped at her clit; and the good feeling was there. She gave a little squeal when she came.
Her legs were as far apart as they would go, and when the preacher's hand came up over her ass, his finger found her bunghole stretched open and waiting. He pushed in to the first knuckle, then all the way. Joan grunted when he first penetrated her there, and followed it with it deep-throated growl as she started coming again. Her whole midsection quivered, her knees buckling, and if it weren't for the support of the preacher's mouth, she would have fallen.
"Oh, Christ, I'm coming so hard!" she moaned. "You really suck good, preacher man."
The preacher pulled his finger from her ass and got to his feet, his face a mask of lust. "Let me… let me fuck you now!" he cried.
"Hell no," Joan said, letting her skirt fall back in place.
"God, please… I have to fuck you!" he whined.
"I don't want you to fuck me. I already made it… twice," she said.
She unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it open, exposing both her fat, milk-swollen tits, the nipples a deep red and as hard as marble. Next, she reached down and opened his fly, her hand moving inside. The preacher groaned when her warm hand closed around his throbbing cock. She pulled it out and started slowly stroking the long stem of turgid flesh.
"If you suck on my titties, I'll jack you off," she said.
"No, no, no! I want to fuck you!" he whined.
"You can't fuck me!" she snapped. "And if you don't suck on my tits, I won't even jack you off." She let his cock fall from her hand.
He gave her a sick look and dropped his face to her breasts. "God forgive!" he wailed, then sucked one of her large nipples into his mouth.
Joan grasped his prick again and drew the skin back off his glans. He had a long, thin prick, almost pointed on the end like a dog's, and the foreskin was thick and long. She masturbated him slowly, pulling the foreskin all the way up and then as far down as it would go. The urge to bend and take his funny-looking cock in her mouth was strong, but she resisted, her hand increasing the length of her strokes as well as the speed.
He was drawing milk from her breast, the thin, watery fluid sweet and delicious. And then with a grunt, he came against her leg with a gush, the thick stuff spitting out in huge, endless gobs. She milked him dry, catching the stuff that only oozed out in her palm.
"Maybe after the wedding tomorrow I'll suck your cock, preacher man. You have such a nice long pecker, I might even let you fuck me," Joan said. "But you better get the hell out of here now before my husband comes down and catches you."
The preacher fled from the bathroom with his limp pecker hanging from his open fly. He felt humiliated and ashamed of himself. His long suffering wife deserved better.
Joan grinned and scooped the milky pool from her palm with her tongue. It was hot, hot and slippery. She reached down and wiped the slime from her leg, licking her hand clean again. She let the stuff slide around in her mouth for several minutes before swallowing. The stringy goo burned all the way down.
Straightening out her skirt, she left the potty and went back upstairs. Her husband was sitting in the front pew.
"Where the hell you been? I been waiting for ten minutes," he said.
"Mama had to go tinkle," she answered. "You wouldn't want Mama full of piss, would you?"
"Christ, Joan, don't be so crude. You really are foul-mouthed."
"You didn't mind when we were going together."
"I was a kid then; I thought it was cute."
Rick had been a hot-shot athlete in school, wild and good-looking. He had calmed down after the baby. He still liked to fuck, though, and she delighted in holding out on him. She got her jollies elsewhere.
After they were in the car, she slid close to him and took his cock out. It was limp but she stroked it up.
"Want me to suck your cock?" she said.
"Yeah, but not here. Christ, Joan, someone will see us. Wait until we get home."
Joan shoved his prick back into his pants and slid over next to the window, looking sullen.
"I won't want to then," she snorted.
The preacher went straight home and into his study, intending to meditate his sins. He meditated, instead, on Joan Wagner. He knew his wife was upstairs waiting for him. He looked down and saw that his cock was still hanging from his open fly and it rose into his waiting hand. He masturbated gently, slowly, and when he felt his nuts cut loose, he grabbed his wife's picture from the desk and deposited his slimy load across her smiling face.
He sat like that for an hour, and then took Joan's panties from his pocket and put them across his face. Breathing in the odor of Joan's lusty cunt, he jerked off again, once more spilling his filth onto his wife's picture. Afterwards, he sat sucking the badly-stained crotchband of the frilly little panties.
Upstairs, his wife lay patiently on the bed, sobbing softly. She was naked, and her fingers were keeping her pussy wet and ready for her husband's prick. She finally decided that if she waited for him, her cunt would go unfulfilled once again. She reached for the heavy-handled hairbrush on her dressing table.
She sighed softly as the thick, hardwood handle pushed up inside her belly. Fucking herself expertly, she closed her eyes and imagined it was Mr. Reeves ramming his massive tool into her clasping cunt. Mr. Reeves was a member of the church board.
Only yesterday evening, she had stood in the shadows of the church basement and watched him jack off in the sink in the girl's room. He had a huge cock, all heavily veined, and she watched it grow big and hard and throbbing as he jacked off over the sink. She wanted to rush and hold it when the angry purple-black knob opened its eye and squirted white, thick cream into the bowl.
She knew from the glances the big man gave her that it would take little encouragement from her to find out if it felt as good as it looked.
Her orgasm blossomed hot and good around the thick piece of wood and she decided that she must know, and know very soon. Mr. Reeves was going to get that little bit of encouragement he needed. The good preacher's sweet little wife was going to feel that big cock inside her hungry pussy.