Pastor Love and His Vessels

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Just a story from the perverted mind of the author, a tale that runs the gamut of masturbation, voyeurism and incestuous relations.

Here I was, living back home with my widowed mother, the person that I thought I had escaped after marrying Ty, my high school sweetheart. Mom is okay if you can take the constant preaching of a born again. I couldn’t. She had been a good mother up until dad died of a massive heart attack when I was thirteen. That was when the local holy roller parson had insinuated himself into Mom’s life, ‘converting’ her into his flock.

Ty had enlisted in the National Guard and when things got tight in the middle east, his unit had been federalized, fortunately, being sent to South Korea to replace some of the regular army. It meant that we had to give up our apartment for we could no longer afford the rent on his pay and my part time job alone. That’s what necessitated my move back home.

Quite often on some afternoons, I would retreat to the sanctuary we kids in the neighborhood had, long ago, discovered, where we could smoke our illicit cigarettes without being caught; the bell tower of the Presbyterian Church. It was only a city block away, where in my younger days, before Daddy’s death, I had attended Sunday School. Mom, after failing to entice me into her new found Church of the Redeemer, at least applauded my interest in ‘my’ church.

The main entrance door was at the foot of the tower and was never locked so I could get right in and, instead to turning thru the doorway into the church proper, could mount the two flights of stairs that led up to the deck, just below where the big brass bell hung. From that deck, a steep ladder went up to the trap door that led into the bell chamber itself. A heavy rope hung down to the ground floor through a large hole right under the bell.

So it was one Friday afternoon, I sat with my back against the wall there in the tower, smoking my, now legal, cigarettes, one after another, killing time away from mother. It was getting into mid-afternoon when I finally got up to leave my sanctuary and just casually glanced out to look down on the back yards of the houses on Hempel street. I gasped at the sight unfolding below me in Mrs. Johansen’s yard, a sight only visible from the height of the tower due to the high hedges surrounding the yard.

There on the grassy lawn was a couple fucking in the missionary position. I could just make out that it was the widow, Mrs. Johansen, on the bottom, her legs wrapped around the hips of the man on top, apparently urging him on. All I could see of him were his slender butt cheeks, clenching as he pumped in and out.

I watched intently for several minutes, feeling my kitty getting wet. Without thinking, I pulled my denim skirt aside to massage my own sweet spot through my moist cotton panties. I could tell when the man below me came, his butt cheeks clenched up tight as he pushed as deep as he could. At that instant, Mrs. Johansen wrapped her arms around his skinny shoulders and pulled him down onto her body. I came myself from my own activity.

The two of them lay like that for several minutes, then he rolled off her to lay on his back beside her. My god! It was Mom’s preacher man! I ducked back out of sight, fearing they might see me, then cautiously, peeked over the edge of the opening to see they were still there, apparently basking in the after glow.

I left the church and quickly made my way home to be greeted with “And where have you been, young lady?”

Truthfully I answered, “At church. I meditated and prayed for Ty to be safe,.” I fibbed.

“Humph! Now that you’re home, set the table so we can eat. I’ve got a meeting at MY church after supper. Our dear Mary Johansen is leading OUR prayer service and giving a lecture on righteousness in life.”

I had forgotten that the ‘dear Mrs. Johansen’ was also one of Pastor Love’s flock, even while I watched him fucking her. I ached to tell mom what I’d seen but that would give away my real ‘church going’ activities.

After a dinner eaten in silence, Mom went into her room to get dressed for her evening, while I cleared the table and put everything in the dishwasher. She left just as I finished, saying only a “Goodnight”. I went immediately to my room and after stripping off all my clothing, I threw the covers off my bed and then retrieved my ‘love buddy’, the realistic soft plastic vibrating cock that Ty had presented to me just before he left. “On those long winter nights when you’re thinking of me, this’ll be me, baby.” Hell, it didn’t have to be a cold winters night, I’d partaken of his stand-in on many an occasion and I was still horny from this afternoon.

After two very satisfying orgasms, I cleaned the cock off and, after stowing it back in its hiding place, went to bed and a restful nights sleep.

Next morning I greeted Mom in her kitchen, just sitting down with her morning coffee. I grabbed a mug and filled it before sitting down across the table from her. I expected to hear her rant and rave about her prayer service from the night before, but kartal escort bayan she was unusually quiet this morning. I broke the ice, “How was your meeting last night, Mom?”

Without looking up at me, she replied, “Very enlightening but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why’s that,” I asked, wondering just what was so, apparently, disconcerting to her. “Usually you’re eager to tell me all about it.”

With her eyes still glued to the coffee mug in front of her, she said, “Oh the prayer group was good but the lecture afterwards was a little strange.”

I knew that Mrs. Johansen had given the lecture and the first thing I thought of was that she had confessed to her sin with Pastor Love. “What was the subject, Ma, was it a confession or something?”

She finally looked up at me, a quizzical look on her face. No, no, not a confession. Whatever put that thought in your head?”

“Oh, I don’t know, probably just because you said it was, uh, strange. What was it about?”

“Well, if you must know,” she replied, “it was about women’s roll in the order of things. About how women should always be the vessel for mens desires. About how we should search out a man and, well, uh, satisfy his, uh, needs. I found it to be very odd, coming from the church secretary.”

“Is she, uh, satisfying some man’s, uh, needs, Mom?”

Her eyes were once more concentrated on her coffee mug. “She didn’t say anything about that, just that we should search out a man who needs some relief and,,,uh…give ourselves to him. She made it sound just like we women should go out…uh…whoring. It was very upsetting to me. I haven’t, uh, known any man since your poor father died and he was the only man I’ve ever, uh, ‘known’, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, I know what you mean Mom,” I replied, then took a leap forward. “Daddy was the only man you ever fucked, is what you mean.”

She gasped and looked up at me, a frown on her face. “Did you have to put it like that? Did you have to use that word?”

“Why not? It’s what you meant and I’m just calling a spade, a spade.” We were quiet for several minutes, then I asked, “Are you going to do what Mrs. Johansen suggested? Are you going to look for a man who needs relief from, uh, stress?”

She glared at me. “Of course not, young lady and, if I did, I wouldn’t be discussing it with you. Some things are sacrosanct.”

I further upset her, saying, “Hell, Mom, I wouldn’t expect you to discuss your sex life with me. But, Jeez, you’re still a young woman; what’re you, forty-five, forty-six? Surely you must have some, uh, desires of your own. I know I would if I was in your shoes.”

“I’m forty six, Amanda, and I’ve long ago learned to keep those , uh, uh, ‘desires’ suppressed. Something you should be doing with your husband away from home for so long.”

I almost wanted to tell her about my Ty, ‘stand-in’, but held back. No sense giving away my secret. Then she shocked me. “Oh, I’ve heard you, young lady, laying in your bed at night and mast…uh, servicing yourself. I have to cover my ears and pretend I don’t hear your moans and cries.”

My god, I thought, here I was thinking I’d been very quiet when I came. I guess I didn’t realize, that in the moment of orgasm, I really did lose control. I guess the wall between our rooms wasn’t as much a barrier as I thought. Oh well, I wouldn’t bother to try and hide it in the future.

“At least I’m being true to Ty, Mom, and I do have desires and needs, but they are only for him. You, on the other hand, shouldn’t let your repressed desires go unfulfilled. That’ll make you old and dried up before your time. Ty always wondered why you got so wrapped up in religion when you could have looked for a man. He’s always thought you were a very attractive woman, even though you gave up make-up and, the way you dress, making yourself look dowdy.”

With that, I drained my mug of coffee and left the kitchen, to return to my room, leaving her to ponder what I had said.

Several days passed, every afternoon I went up into the bell tower, hoping to see a repeat of Mrs. Johansen and Pastor Love fucking, but no luck. In the evenings, I tried bringing up that lecture again but mom wouldn’t continue a conversation about it. I continued ‘servicing’ myself but no longer tried to be quiet when I’d cum. I wanted her to see, or rather, to hear, what pleasure I was giving myself.

Then about a week later, we were sitting at the dinner table over dinner and mom suddenly said, “Amanda, I do wish you’d be more quiet when you’re quenching your desires, it’s become very disconcerting to me. I have trouble getting to sleep after hearing you.”

Looking her right in the eye, I said, “What? Does it get you…uh…in the mood yourself? Make you want to…uh…you know…touch yourself?”

She blushed crimson and I knew I’d struck a chord. “Of course not, young lady. What do you think? That I’m some sort of degenerate?”

“Oh, come on, Mom. Jeez, it’s only natural. I know if the shoe was on the other foot, I’d be playing with myself if escort maltepe I heard you…uh…servicing yourself. Just admit that you get a little turned on.”

She jumped up from the table in a huff. “That’s enough, Amanda. I admit to nothing,” and she turned and left the room. Right there and then I decided to be louder that night when I fucked myself with Ty’s stand-in.

And that’s just what I did, not holding back any of my moans and cries, being louder than ever before. As soon as I had recovered from my orgasm, I quietly slipped out of bed and snuck out into the hall, going to stand by her bedroom door.

I grinned to myself as I heard her muffled voice, calling out my fathers name, “Oh Tom, I need you so bad. Oh god, what’s happening to me, oh, oh.” I could just imagine her laying in her bed, a hand on her pussy, working herself into a state of ecstasy. I didn’t linger, but retreated to my own room, let her enjoy it for a change.

Next morning it was me that got into the kitchen first, to put the coffee pot on, getting the table ready for breakfast. I was on my second mug of coffee before Mom came in, still in her night gown, bloodshot eyes, hair disheveled, but a smile on her face.

“Tough night, Mom,” I asked innocently.

She yawned. “I didn’t get to sleep until very late, if you must know,” she said as she poured her own mug of coffee. She didn’t mention that I had been loud as she sat down across the table from me, sipping at her coffee.

“Mom,” I said, “You know that business that Mrs. Johansen said at the lecture? I think I know who could need some relief…uh…you know, help.” Then I took the plunge. “I bet Pastor Love could take a little counseling, he’s always under stress, you know, always having to come up with a new sermon every week, worrying about all his parishioners. Why don’t you see if you can help him?”

“You know something, Amanda, I just might do just that. A man of the cloth like him, well, it wouldn’t hurt to just talk to him, to get him to relax from all his duties.” She paused for a moment. “Yes, Amanda, I think I’ll give him a call right after breakfast.”

True to her word, I heard her on the phone about an hour later. She was speaking so low that I could only make out a word or two, Mary Johansen’s name being one that I heard.

After her conversation was over and she had hung up the phone, she passed by me in the kitchen, on her way back to her room. “What did your minister say, Mom. Did he welcome your offer?”

She looked at me with a funny expression on her face. “He just said that he’d had several offers of help and that he was quite busy with several other ladies from the church. That he could fit me in some time next week. I don’t quite understand. Doesn’t that sound odd to you?”

“Yeah, it does, but did you make an appointment to see him?”

“Yes, he’s coming to the house next Tuesday afternoon and we can talk then.”

I made a mental note to stay home that afternoon, to be in my room when the good man, Pastor Love, came calling, my ear glued to the walls. I was sure that there would be more than just ‘talk’. It was interesting to hear that the good pastor had other ladies being ‘vessels’ for him. I wondered who, besides Mrs. Johansen, was on Pastor Love’s list of do gooders.

The day finally came and I sequestered myself in my room, telling mom that I had a violent headache. Promptly at two o’clock, I heard the doorbell chime and shortly afterwards, the low hum of voices coming from the livingroom.

It had continued for several minutes when I suddenly heard mother exclaim in a loud voice, “Pastor Love! What are you saying?” Then the voices returned to a low hum again. After several more minutes I heard footsteps in the hallway and mother saying, “We must be very quiet, my daughter is in her room, she has a very bad headache.” Then Pastor Love’s voice telling her to check, that I might be sleeping.

In an instant, I was on my bed, eyes closed, trying to breath normally. I heard my door open for a minute, then mother’s voice whispering as she closed it. “Yes she is sleeping but we must be quiet.,” followed by the sound of her bedroom door closing.

I waited several minutes, then went to the wall that separated our rooms and put my ear to the wall. At first I could hear nothing but then Pastor Love said, “My dear, you have magnificent breasts,” followed by a giggle from my mother. This was getting very interesting and, reaching under my skirt, slid my panties down and kicked them away, preparing myself for a little finger fun.

Some minutes later, “My god, woman,” I heard Pastor Love exclaim, “you have a very tight cunny,” followed by mom’s reply, “You have a very big…uh…thing, Pastor.” Oh boy, I thought, they’re not wasting any time. I wondered what the conversation in the livingroom had been that got mom to this point. He must have been very persuasive.

Soon the sounds of fucking filtered through the wall and I could picture in my minds eye, Mom, on her back on her bed, legs splayed, with Pastor Love, on pendik escort his knees between them, hearing his grunting sounds, as he pounded away at her. I could hear mom beginning to moan and cry out and it wasn’t long before the good Pastor, himself moaned loudly, “I’m cumming, woman, you’re getting the seed of heaven,” then a long drawn out moan from him.

Now it was my turn as I diddled at my own pussy, rubbing my clit and driving fingers into my cunt. Finding it difficult to stand next to the wall and fearful that I’d make too much noise as I came, I tottered across the room to throw myself down on my bed while I finished myself off to a glorious orgasm, my face buried in my pillow to keep my own release quiet.

Some time later I heard Mom’s bedroom door open and the sound of the two of them going down the hall to the livingroom. Again, the low hum of their voices, followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing. Pastor Love, his mission accomplished, had left the house. I drifted off into a very deep, satisfied sleep.

It was after five o’clock when I awakened and left my room. Mom was in the kitchen, drinking coffee. “Did your pastor come to the house, Mom,” I asked innocently.

“Yes, dear. I guess you must have been sleeping. We had a very pleasant, uh…conversation and he left very satisfied with my, uh, counseling He wants to make it a weekly thing and I told him I was here for him whenever he felt tense and needed some conversation to relieve that tension. How’s your headache, dear?”

“Oh, it’s all gone now, Mom. I did take a nice long nap and I feel very good now. What’s for supper?” I was finding it difficult to face her, knowing that she had been well fucked that afternoon and, now, was looking forward to more afternoon delights. I began to wonder if I should ask about the other ladies that were ‘counseling’ her pastor, or if she really cared that she was one among others.

On the following Friday afternoon, I made it a point to again be in the bell tower, having figured that the good Pastor Love had regularly scheduled meetings with the women on his trap line. I was not disappointed. It was apparent that he, and Mrs. Johansen, both enjoyed fucking in the open air of her backyard, thinking that no one could see them.

When they emerged from her house, out into the open, both were fully clothed but, not for long. After spreading a blanket on the grass, she stood and began to undress. The good man enjoyed watching, even helping, Mrs. Johansen, divest herself of her clothing. Soon she stood entirely nude in front of him, her large tits hanging almost down to her waist. He paid particular attention to her nipples. It seemed to be his way of performing foreplay. She was not content to simply stand there, but, had one hand at the front of his trousers, getting his prick hard

After several minutes, Mrs. Johansen stepped back and dropped to the blanket, legs spread, one hand on her pussy, the other on one of her tits, toying with her nipple. The parson watched for a few minutes, then, he too, quickly got undressed. I got a good look at his love muscle before he dropped to his knees between her legs. I knew then what my mother had meant when she had said he had ‘a big thing’. Skinny man that he was, he was certainly well endowed.

I had dropped my panties while I watched her get naked and now I had free access to my own pussy and I began to pleasure myself as I watched to two of them fucking, I now realized that I had missed a good portion of their coupling the first time I’d seen them fucking for now the act went on for a very long time. Twice I could hear Mrs. Johnson’s moans of apparent orgasms before he began to really pound away at her cunt. I know I had matched her with two orgasms of my own, my fingers working their magic in my now, sloppy cunt.

This time, when he came, Pastor love immediately rolled off of Mrs. Johansen, his prick still hard and now pointed towards the sky. But, as I watched, the starch went out of his large rod and it wilted, to lay on his thigh. I stood away from the outlook and sat down to jill off once more. My god, I was horny as hell.

Several minutes later, after achieving a very successful cum, I licked my juices off my fingers and got up to take one more look at the two of them, but, I was too late. They were no longer there and all traces of their fuck session were gone.

It was on my way home that I began to hatch a plan that would allow me to watch Mom and her pastor when he filled her ‘vessel’ with his ‘seed of heaven’. I knew I wouldn’t be able to just open her door and watch from the hallway, I had heard the door lock on their first tryst. I’d have to open a spy hole in the wall between our bedrooms.

That night, when Mom went off to her prayer meeting, I went into her room and selected a spot on the wall that, with a hole there, I could get a view of her bed and any activity that might take place. It would be right in the middle of one of the sun flowers in the wallpaper pattern I carefully drilled a small hole, making sure not to tear the wallpaper. I backed away from the wall, checking to see if it would be noticeable and found that it was virtually unseen. I cleaned up the small amount of plaster dust that had fallen to the floor and then, after noting the location of my spy hole, went to my own room.

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