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by Brigit Astar ©
Meat the Preacher's Wife
Amber Sullivan sat at the kitchen table, sipped tea, and thought about her husband and her marriage. The day before had been her third wedding anniversary, but her husband had not mentioned it, had not acknowledged it. Amber sighed and a frown crossed her face. It's not as if he forgot it, she thought; it's as if he ignored it, as if it didn't mean anything to him. Three years...and he...She sighed again. Of course, Lucas had a lot on his mind, and he was a minister, and he naturally...She wagged her head as she thought about her husband, and about the past few months. Lucas had gradually stopped showing any affection for her, or even any interest in her. He spent more and more time away from her, ministering to his "flock," visiting the sick, the infirm, the aged, preparing his sermons. And sex--forget about it. She gave out a sardonic little chuckle. From the first day of their marriage, Lucas had been squeamish, finicky, prudish when it came to sex. It almost seemed as if he looked upon sex as debasing, distasteful, a painful duty to perform. And gradually he had shown, he had made it clear, that he wasn't interested in sex. When was the last time we did it? she asked herself. Two weeks ago? Again, she gave out a wry chuckle. And even then, it was...She wagged her head as she thought about it. Lucas had mounted her, had given her a dozen strokes, shot his load, and then had rolled off her. And that had been it.... Hammering sounds from the porch interrupted her thought. She walked to the kitchen screen door and looked out. Cliff Mason was hard at work, repairing a section of the parsonage porch. Amber watched the carpenter for a moment, and she felt a tingle run over her and a warmth that was centered in her breasts and between her thighs. He wore a tank-top and cutoff jeans. He was black and big and muscular, and his neck, arms and legs glowed with a light sheen of perspiration. Her gaze was drawn to his thick pink lips, and she felt a fizzy tingling run up and down her body; her heart beat faster and her throat and lips were suddenly dry. She opened the screen door and said, "About time for a break, isn't it? Would you like some iced tea?" Cliff Mason looked up, smiled, and said, "You read my mind." .
...He entered the kitchen, wiping his brow. "I should have the porch done today, late this afternoon anyway." "About how much do you think the total will be?" Amber asked as she poured him a glass of tea. "Not that much," Cliff said. "It's mainly been a job of building on supports to the porch and the steps. I will have put in a total of about eight hours labor, and with the cost of materials, it should come to about two hundred dollars." They sat at the kitchen table and sipped tea. "Do you know who or what or how to bill it?" she asked. "Yeah, I'll give Mr. Sullivan the final bill today, and the church itself will pay me." "Hmm, well, the thing is, Mr. Sullivan, he...he probably won't be back till this evening. He's gone, left this morning. He's usually gone all day." "Usually gone all day?" Cliff asked. "Yeah. Most days he's gone--all day...and sometimes part of the evening." "No problem, with the bill. I can leave it with you." "Would you like another glass of tea?" she asked. Cliff nodded. "Best tea I've had in quite a while. Hits the spot." He watched her as she got up and went to the fridge, and he felt a stirring in his groin. Amber was in her early twenties, fair-skinned, long brownish-blonde hair, blue eyes, and quite pretty and shapely. He felt his prick stiffening. She was a looker, all right...and married to a preacher. What a waste.... He took a swig of iced tea and observed her more closely. She had a melancholy look on her face, and every once and a while he heard a distinct sigh come from her lips. His cock grew stiff, rising and poking at his pants.... He drained his glass and stood. "Well, I'd better get back to work. Thanks for the tea. It did the trick." Amber looked at him and her gaze was drawn down to his crotch. His prick throbbed and poked at his jeans. His hard-on could clearly be seen. Amber gulped and a thumping feeling came from her tummy and ran up to her throat. She swallowed and ran the tip of her tongue across her inner lips. She suddenly realized she was so horny she couldn't stand it. Even her heart was thumping. "Any time you want to--uh--you know, take a break and get a drink, the tea's in the fridge--just help yourself." Her voice came out rasping and husky. He smiled and nodded. "Thanks." He went back outside. Amber went to the living room and lay down on the sofa. Her whole body was tingling, heart thudding, and her breasts and the little secret place between her thighs was so warm, almost hot. Cliff walked to the sofa, swiping at his cock. Amber opened her eyes and saw him standing over her. She looked agog at him as he took out his prick. It was big and black, stiff and throbbing. Without uttering a word, he mounted Amber, raked her panties down and off, and pushed forward. He grasped her buttocks and drove his hard cock into her pussy. He groaned and she gasped as he dug his dick up her cunt. "Fuck!" he called out to her. "Fuck, baby, fuck!" "Oh god--it's been so long! Ahh--unh--ahh!" she cried out in passionate pleasure, heaving her pelvis up, hunching her quim to meet his lusty thrusts. He slammed it to her, screwing her hard and fast. His big hard dick pounded her cunt like a piston. "Unh--ahh--oh god--oh sweet prick!" she gasped and panted and humped and bucked as he hammered his long thick black cock in her hot juicy blonde pussy. "Oh god, this is heaven! Oh, it's never been so good!" she cried. "Ahh--I never knew it could feel so good. Oh, you're so big, so strong and hard. You've filled me up--oh darling--you're the biggest--you're the best!" ..