The More Mom

THE MORE MOM

This story is categorized in Erotic Couplings, which is perfect. But it tends to veer into other categories and includes several kinks that are real to the story and possibly your fantasy.

If anything offends you, I make no apologies since this is about consensual sex, and when you write about consensual sex, an apology is never needed. Lastly, this story is set against the backdrop of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It is not an attack on that religion, which happens to be the religion I grew up with. It is a retelling of actual events.

And just so there are no surprises for those of you who object to certain things (because these stories are full of surprises), here are some tags: anal, cheating, Mormon, anilingus, cunnilingus, blow jobs, pegging, kinky, swallowing, cream pie, queef, voyeur, romantic, hairy, underarms, fetish, cheating, insemination

- WT

THE MORE MOM

CHAPTER 0

GIDEON'S DILEMMA

Despite living in a large home with four brothers and two sisters, Gideon Barton had little privacy. When you're 18 just about everything gives you an erection and most young men turn to porn for relief.

But in Gideon's strict Mormon household, his father, The Bishop, a respected pillar of the church, imposed restrictions on internet access, computers, and phones. Visiting sites like Pornhub or Literotica was nearly impossible.

But then again, nothing's as vivid as the mind of a horny teen, and Gideon could create fantasies from just about anything. He had masturbated to thoughts of the weather girl on channel 5, several of his teachers, and right now, his mother's good friend, Kristi Haskett.

It was the Barton's big summer backyard barbeque and Mrs. Haskett had just emerged from the pool with firm, erect nipples poking through her bathing suit. She went for her towel, but the image of her thick nipples tenting the nylon of her modest swimsuit would remain burned in his memory to be recalled for countless masturbation sessions in the days to come.

That's all it took to make Gideon's balls swell. He needed to masturbate right now. With two brothers and two sisters plus a houseful of guests for the cookout, jerking off in a bathroom wasn't going to happen.

That wasn't an issue for Gideon as he entered the spacious car barn to conduct his personal business. Much more than just a garage, The Bishop had built the car barn to house his collection of cars, cars he felt promoted his masculinity. The barn housed seven vehicles and the family's Gulfstream trailer.

Gideon noticed how dusty his dad's 1970s green Bronco was. He coveted this vehicle, even if that was a sin. His mom was trying to convince his dad to let him take it to college after his mission. After all, he was an adult, and his mother believed he needed to take on responsibilities, like owning a car.

But right now, he needed to masturbate and quietly entered his go-to spot, the Gulfstream trailer.

This had become his favorite place to masturbate. It was private, and he could concentrate on his fantasy as he stroked himself.

Getting some hand lotion from the bathroom, he sat on the couch, pulled his shorts down, and lathered himself up. Gently grasping his cock, he began slowly gliding up and down the shaft.

He closed his eyes and imagined Mrs. Haskett taking him by the hand behind the garage and showing him her tits. She held them out for him, offering him one to feed on.

This wasn't going to take long. He could feel his balls swelling and then...

He heard the side door to the car barn open and someone entered.

Fuck, not now.

Mrs. Haskett's tits would have to wait. He could hear two people talking in hushed tones.

"Wow, is this what you wanted to show me? It's great. Look at the condition. This is wonderful."

The voice was familiar, and Gideon moved to the window to see who it was.

"Want to see something even better?" came a voice he recognized as his mother's voice. Why was she in here?

He peered into the car barn, trying to see who she was talking to and if they were going to leave.

Looking out, he saw his mother leaning back on the hood of his father's green Bronco like a teenage girl flirting on a date.

Whomever it was, Gideon felt he was way too close to his mother. She then turned around, leaned forward, and her skirt hiked up slightly, but not enough to reveal anything. Reaching back, she flipped it up exposing her soft white ass.

Gideon nearly fell over in shock. What was she doing?

Just then, he could see the face of the other person. It was Ethan. He lived next door; he was in his last year of law school in Boston and home for the summer, clerking for The Bishop. He was probably around 25 or 26 years old.

"You wore the red lingerie," Ethan said with a lascivious smile.

His mother was always talking about Ethan's success at law school and kept encouraging Gideon to use him as a role model.

"That's not all," his mother replied to Ethan as she put her thumbs in the bands of her panties pulling them down to reveal her bare ass. Ethan's eyes were fixated on her behind. Gideon strained to see, but from his angle, there was no looking into that dark abyss.

"How long have you-"

"All day. Just for you," she interrupted.

"Oh my God. How does it feel?" Ethan asked.

Gideon's mind was racing. How does what feel? Did she get some kind of piercing? What was he looking at?

"Full, I feel wonderful, but full. I had a spontaneous orgasm about an hour ago. I was sitting there, and it hit me when I was talking to Sara Carlton. She asked if I was ok."

Gideon remembered noticing his mother shivering earlier when she was talking to Mrs. Carlton. What the hell was going on?

"You're amazing," Ethan said in a loud whisper.

Gideon's mother remained slumped over the car.

"Make it fast," she replied.

Ethan had his cock in hand in seconds. Gideon's eyes were wide. This was it. He was going to see someone have sex. Not just someone, his mother. He resigned himself to worry about that later.

Gideon watched as Ethan gently inserted himself into his mother from behind. She let out a long, plaintive groan, enjoying the moment.

Gideon thought he should run out there and put an end to this.

But he didn't.

Above anything in the world, he wanted to see people having sex. And here it was, just fifteen feet from him, a man riding an older woman from behind. They were carnal, and they were desperate. Never mind that it was his mother; this was sex, raw and unbridled, and he began to masturbate as he watched.

His mother's pelvis hitched as Ethan began increasing his cadence. It started slow, but they were picking up the pace.

Her red panties were now around her ankles. Her torso lay flat against the Bronco, and her face was a portrait of bliss.

If there was any doubt his mother wasn't a willing participant, the wet sounds of her pussy, and her less than muffled moans testified just how much she was enjoying the moment.

Gideon continued to stroke himself, pacing with the couple, not wanting to blow his load too soon.

His mother put her hands back, grasping her ass cheeks and spreading them, offering Ethan a better view of his target.

Then, out of nowhere, Ethan pulled himself out, revealing his sizable penis, dropped to his knees and planted his face in between her ass cheeks. The sounds of his mouth on her pussy echoed off the walls.

"We don't have time for you to-"

Gideon's mother never finished her sentence as she froze with pleasure.

"Oh, that fucking tongue of yours. That motherfucking tongue of yours."

From his hiding spot, Gideon was about to hyperventilate, having never heard his mother say anything more substantial than "darn it".

Ethan stood, wiped the wetness from his face and then returned to fucking Gideon's mother from behind.

Their body friction increased, and it was evident the two were to about cum, as was Gideon. Mrs. Barton groaned loudly, followed by a metallic clank on the floor like someone had dropped a tool.

The two lovers didn't seem to notice or care and kept at each other, intent on reaching a mutual climax quickly. While Gideon's only experience with orgasm was his own, he watched his mother plateau, determined to burn the memory into his brain.

Inside the trailer Gideon was about to cum despite slow strokes, just the visuals were enough to finish him off. When he heard his mother's final groan he felt his balls swell and his cock erupted in a geyser of cum spraying on the walls and window.

With his pants around his knees, he staggered back and knocked over a box of cooking utensils, making a slight but audible clatter.

Fuck!

Gideon looked out the window again. The sound had spooked the two as his mother pulled up her panties and flipped back her dress, while Ethan zipped his shorts and straightened up.

She then led Ethan out of one of the side doors.

When Gideon was sure they were gone, he quietly exited the trailer and walked to the Bronco. The dust on the hood was disturbed, showing the buxom outline of a woman's body. On the floor was a puddle of what could only be spent cum and his mother's fluids combined.

Gideon took a rag and wiped off the dust, wiping off any evidence, then took the rag to wipe up the fluids on the ground. On his knees, he noticed something shiny under the Bronco. Reaching for it, he held it in his hand—a metallic gold butt plug, covered in a sheen lube and a bejeweled handle.

He knew what he had to do.

CHAPTER 1

THE HOMECOMING

Two years of law school were behind me, and I was returning home to Provo for my last summer. I was happy to be going home and sleeping in my old room, and equally excited that my neighbor, Bishop Barton, had secured me a legal clerking internship in his firm.

There was no better way to finish a successful law degree than clerking for Utah's most prestigious law firm, Pratt, Collins, and Barton.

I can't remember the last time I heard anyone call Rob Barton by his name. He was known as "The Bishop" due to his high standing in the LDS Church. That's the term that Mormons preferred, with LDS meaning The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Although they did use the term "Mormon," that name was sometimes used in a pejorative way. Thus, using LDS avoided any possible negative connotations.

The Bishop was a mountain of a man, imposing and always the center of attention. Despite having been our neighbor for as long as I can remember, I rarely spoke to him, but my dad and The Bishop's wife had secured me this internship last year.

Then the worst happened. My father passed away suddenly ten months ago. At just 25 years old, I had faced the loss of both my parents. My mother had died when I was only three, leaving Dad and me together all those years. Our relationship was rocky at times, but he always supported me and kept me focused on a prosperous future. I felt his absence deeply now that he was gone.

He was disappointed that I had left the Mormon faith. It wasn't that I questioned the faith itself, but all faith. Still, I was respectful of his beliefs and those of my LDS neighbors.

Living in Provo meant having LDS neighbors everywhere. Honestly, I can't think of a better place and better people. Despite the slurs and jokes about the faith, my LDS neighbors were some of the kindest people on earth. When Dad died, The Bishop and his wife, Amanda, traveled to Harvard to convince me to stay in school and finish. He reminded me how important it was to my Dad that I get that degree and assured me of the clerkship. Mrs. Barton promised to take care of my dad's home. They came through on both accounts.

These were good people, and I felt fortunate to have pillars of society in my life.

Mrs. Barton was younger than The Bishop and could have been a recruiting poster for Mormon wives. She was sporty, with blond, shoulder-length hair that framed her face effortlessly. She had an attractive figure, and her larger-than-average breasts always caught the church dads' attention... and their wives. But if there was one feature that could stop me in my tracks, it was her smile. It made me feel welcomed and safe.

I grew up with the Bartons. I was seven when they bought the huge house next door. My memories of Mrs. Barton are that she was always pregnant. She had her first child, Gideon, that year, and then it seemed like she was always expecting right up until last year when she had her fifth child. Perhaps that explained her large breasts, which I must confess, I'd sneak a peek at whenever I could.

Mrs. Barton was a traditional wife who began by having children to continually increase the LDS population. She was always busy, driving carpool, cooking meals, and doing everything necessary to support The Bishop's vital role as a community and church leader. The affectionate term for a woman devoted to her husband and family was helpmeet. As in, she was The Bishop's helpmeet.

Of course, being seen and at the center of attention due to her husband's status caused some jealousy, and some of the catty mothers called her the "More Mom," which is a bit of a slur, especially coming from other members of the LDS faith, demeaning her role to merely being attracted to the attention she received from her status.

I found an Amazon package at the door when I arrived home. After taking it inside, I turned on the lights. The place was clean and bright for a home that hadn't been lived in for several months. Mrs. Barton had undoubtedly ensured it was cheerful upon my return.

I sorted through the stack of mail, opening some items and throwing away others, and then remembered the Amazon package. Opening it up, I was surprised to see a delicate but revealing lingerie set. I held up the red thong and bustier top, wondering where they had come from. Looking back in the box, I found a sex toy, the Womanizer. It was a vibrating suction toy that only added to the mystery.

I looked at the box and noticed that it was addressed to me, but I certainly didn't order this. I put the items back in the box and set it aside.

A day later, I was finishing my paperwork for the clerk internship when I heard someone at the door.

I opened it to see Mrs. Barton, who walked into the house as if it belonged to her. I understood her actions because she had cared for it for so long.

"Come on in," I said with a joking smile. She looked at me with a smirk.

"Sorry, I just barged in, didn't I? I'm so used to coming over here and just decompressing."

She gave me a warm hug, pressing herself against me.

"Welcome home, Bryant. We've missed you. I've missed you."

I smelled toast burning and rushed to the kitchen. She followed me. It was burnt, so I tossed it out and poured myself a cup of coffee.

I had never tasted coffee until my first year of law school. Shunned by the LDS faith as a stimulant, I avoided it until midterms, but after my first cup, I was hooked.

"Coffee? Tsk tsk, what'll I ever tell The Bishop?"

"Law school, late nights. If this is a sin, let me be burned at the stake," I replied.

"I'm sure it can be overlooked. You know how many exceptions we must make to keep the faith. I had a Long Island iced tea a few weeks ago."

Mormons don't drink coffee, and they sure as hell don't drink alcohol, let alone a strong drink like a Long Island Iced Tea.

"I was out with some friends who weren't from church. They had wine, and I innocently asked for tea. Well, I said Long Island Iced Tea. I assumed it was like a tea and lemonade drink."

"That's an Arnold Palmer," I added.

"So, I found out. I took a sip and instantly realized it wasn't made with lemonade."

She leaned in with a conspiratorial look.

"Can you keep a secret, Bryant?"

I nodded yes.

"I drank the entire drink, and by the end, I was, well, my head was spinning. I think I did a pretty good job of pretending to be sober, but I wasn't. I returned to the suburban, crawled in, and fell asleep for three hours."

"Just from the one drink?"

"Well, I had a Xanax earlier, so that combo did not help."

I looked at her quizzically.

"It's a prescription for stress. It's allowed."

While Mormons don't use recreational drugs, many of the women I knew had prescriptions for anxiety. I felt guilty because my expression made her think I was judging her.

"Of all the drinks you could order, that's like a nuclear bomb."

"Do you drink, Bryant? You drink coffee; do you also drink at bars?"

I wasn't sure if this was a test. Was she doing some recon for The Bishop?

"Me? No, I don't drink alcohol."

That was a lie.

She looked at me and studied my face.

"You wouldn't lie to me, now, would you?"

"No, I don't..."

"Have you ever experienced something so intense, so incredible that you wonder how God would make it criminal to enjoy? Like wine, for instance. Jesus drank wine, why can't we?"

"The Catholics certainly do," I replied.

"Oh my God, even Catholics are having more fun than us," she bemoaned, "and they are always miserable."

"I don't usually question the doctrines of the faith," I replied.

I was attempting to evade the question. She was probing, and I wasn't sure what she was after.

"Of course not. Neither do I. So, we'll keep this story about the Long Island iced tea between us? I can trust you?"

"If you can keep my coffee addiction between us," I replied.

"Bryant, you can trust me to keep secrets. I'm a vault when it comes to this stuff. I know what it's like to have secrets, so anything you share with me. It's in the vault."

"Coffee in the vault. Got it."

"Can I try some?" she asked.

"Try what?"

"Your coffee."

"Are you sure? It's bitter. Kind of acquired taste. And I don't want to get you in trouble."

"I'm a big girl. Plus, I don't think my husband will cast me out into the wilderness for trying some coffee. He always encourages me to try new things."

I held out the cup, and she took it in hand, inhaling the rich scent.

"It smells so good. I sometimes wander into a Starbucks just to breathe the air. It almost makes me shiver with excitement. You don't think caffeine is airborne, do you?"

"No, I don't."

I was anxious to see her taste the coffee. There was something about witnessing a grown woman, a devoted believer, break her promise to her faith before me.

It was a far cry from any real sin—it was just a sip of coffee—but the fact that she was doing this before me held an unusual sensuality. I licked my lips as she brought the cup to her mouth.

She took a long sip, let it sit in her mouth, and then swallowed.

"Wow, that's not what I thought it would taste like. I was hoping for something like the Long Island iced tea."

"Well, if I had some Kahlua and vodka, I could make this more of a fun drink."

"Do you have any?" she asked.

"Uh, no. My dad didn't drink, so no."

"Too bad. I could like coffee if it had something fun in it."

Looking around the kitchen, she noticed the pile of mail.

"Oh, that reminds me. I had a package from Amazon sent here."

Oh shit! That was hers?

"I didn't see anything. Why would you send it here?"

"Well, nothing gets into our house without one of the kids opening it. They're just feminine products, so I sent them here. I don't need my kids looking through my tampons and breast pads."

I looked at her, confused. She could see I didn't understand.

"I'm still breastfeeding John-John. I know it's time to wean him, but I've been pregnant more than not pregnant this past 18 years, and so, well, I leak a lot."

"You leak a lot?"

I was still confused.

"My breasts leak. Mostly if I don't express myself or feed John-John, it can be kind of embarrassing."

I realized I was getting the bio lesson in that I did not want to hear.

"I'm sorry, Bryant, I guess I just feel comfortable around you and start blabbering. You don't need a lecture on my bodily functions."

"No, that's fine. I'm glad you feel like that. I've always felt like you were someone I could talk to, so yeah, if you want to complain, I'm your guy."

Mrs. Barton looked at me with a smile.

"You're one of the good ones, Ethan. Never change. Well, I've got to get back to the house because I've been gone 20 minutes, and there is a good chance someone has set the kitchen on fire. You know that happened once."

"Mrs. Barton, anytime you need to decompress. Come on over. You've got the door code; lie on the couch and sleep."

"I will. Thank you. And we're all adults now, so how about no more Mrs. Barton and you call me Amanda?"

I smiled.

"Amanda. Amanda, it is."

"Oh, you'll let me know when that package arrives. Will you?"

With that, she left. I watched her walk away, somewhat enamored with her. She had been so open, so relaxed, and so honest and felt more like a friend than the mom next door. It was nice she could confide in me about the struggles of family and religion.

I picked up the open Amazon box, took out the lingerie, and held it up to the light.

There was significantly less clothing than what most devout LDS women wore under their clothing. What little cloth there was, was transparent, primarily mesh. The thong was crotchless, and the bra appeared to cover only below the nipples.

I couldn't help but imagine Mrs. Barton wearing this. For a mother of five, she was remarkably fit. She wore sensible clothing, including sporty attire from Brooks Brothers and Lululemon, always maintaining a certain degree of modesty.

The thought of her wanting to wear this outfit made me see her in a different light. Clearly, it was for her intimate moments with The Bishop, and I felt awful for invading her privacy.

I put the box back together and ran a fresh strip of tape down the opening. It wasn't nearly perfect, but I'd tell her it came that way and probably got damaged in transit.

I waited a day, then texted her that the package was here and that I'd bring it over.

I'll come to get it, was her immediate reply.

A few minutes later, she arrived at the door, carrying several containers of Tupperware. She brushed past me into the kitchen and began to load them into the fridge.

"I made some meals, so you don't just live on cold cereal."

"I can cook," I replied in mock defensiveness.

The truth is, I actually was living on cold cereal, and the idea of a home-cooked meal was a welcome invitation.

I had paused the movie I was watching on Netflix. She stopped to look at the TV set.

"Is this White Lotus?" She asked.

"I think so."

"I have a confession," she said. "When I came over to look after the house, I treated myself to watching Outlander on your Netflix."

"Outlander?"

I had no idea what that was.

"It's a series, a good one. It involves time travel and a woman who's married to two men at two different times: the 1940s in England and then, Scotland in the 1700s."

"Wow, that sounds complicated."

"Oh, it is. It's like a soap opera but with lots of gratuitous sex. I mean really good sex."

"Oh, well, now I'll have to watch it," I said, realizing how awkward the response was.

"Well, you can watch porn over here. So maybe the sex on Outlander isn't so wild."

"You can't watch the series at home?"

"No, The Bishop has all our TVs filtered to PG-13 or less. Even if I try using my phone, he has all our phones filtered, and gets nanny reports if anyone searches strong words."

"Nanny reports?"

"Software that alerts him to anything against the teachings of the church. Which is just about everything. So, I come here to watch the show. You won't tell, will you?"

"Haven't we been through this? You have my promise that your secrets are safe with me. Remember, we shared coffee, so we're deep in. Oh, I have your Amazon package."

I handed her the box, which she examined, and noticed the fresh tape.

"Did you open this?"

"Me? No. It arrived like that. Perhaps it was opened by mistake. They must have resealed it."

She studied me like I was one of her children lying about eating candy before dinner.

"Great. I might have a few more deliveries. I'll let you know when they arrive. Are you okay with that?"

"More personal care items?" I asked.

Mrs. Barton looked at the box and then right into my eyes. She was using her mom's skills to discern the truth from me.

"Ethan, did you open this box?"

God damn, she was good. I had a million lies I wanted to tell, but the truth seemed the easiest path.

"I didn't know it was for you. I didn't know, and I'm sorry."

She laughed as she pulled open the tape.

"Lousy job trying to reseal it. Don't apply to work at Amazon."

She opened the box and took out the lingerie and held it up, showing it to me.

"Sorry," was all I could mutter.

"It's fine. It's just some underwear and a personal care item. You can understand why I didn't want this to come to my house. The Bishop would disapprove."

"You didn't buy that to wear for him?"

Mrs. Barton kept on admiring the skimpy outfit.

"I bought it for myself."

She put down the outfit and looked at me.

"You're familiar with the sacred garments, right?"

I was somewhat familiar. The sacred garments, which are often called magic underwear by non-Mormons, are a bland nylon top and bottom worn by LDS men and women under their clothing.

You had to have gone on a mission or been married in the church to qualify to wear them. I had done neither, nor did I desire to.

"My dad wore them," I replied.

"That's right. He did. Well, they're not very flattering. I do my best to stay in shape. I drop down to my perfect weight after each child, and my breasts remain big and appealing. I put in the work. And I like what I see when I look at myself in the mirror."

She lifted her shirt slightly to reveal the unattractive white garment she wore underneath.

"But then I have to put on this thing. It's uncomfortable, not flattering, makes me sweat, and sure as hell isn't sexy."

"You don't have to wear it," I interrupted. "I know lots of faithful people who don't."

"I wear it out of respect for my husband. The Bishop is a good provider. He has his rules, and we all obey them; one is for me to wear my garments. So, I do."

"So why the lingerie?"

"I don't know. It's my tiny bit of rebellion. When I would come here, I'd put on the lingerie, watch my shows, and sometimes use my personal care items."

Personal care? Is she talking about masturbation?

She was sneaking off to my house to masturbate. My mind was reeling at the thought of this attractive mother of five, in her early 40s, masturbating in my house.

"

I hope you don't mind, but I keep it all in a drawer in your dad's room. I can't bring it home."

I wanted to race to the dresser and see what was hiding there.

Mrs. Barton held up the sex toy. It looked like a hairbrush with a small rubber circle at the end.

"The toys help me relax... and have a little fun."

I realized I hadn't asked her to explain any of this. She had unloaded. The woman wanted someone to talk to, and without asking me to listen, she was listing her issue with being a traditional wife.

"I'll take everything out of the drawer and throw it away," she said with a hint of shame.

"No, you don't have to do that. I go to the office several times a week. Come over, wear your outfits, watch TV shows, and do whatever you want with the toys."

She looked at me with a grateful smile, not ready to give up this small act of rebellion.

"I can trust you with this secret?" she asked.

"We've been over that," I replied.

Besides, who would I tell? Certainly not The Bishop. Giving her access to my house for her "personal care" time would not endear me to the man.

"Thanks, Ethan, I really need this. Your house has been my sanctuary, and I want to keep it that way."

So, we made our arrangement. She would come over when I was away and do God knows what, while I'd say nothing.

She gave me a tight hug, and I could feel her heavy breasts on me. Perhaps it was no different than any other hug she'd given me in the past, but the talk of lingerie, masturbation, and our pact to keep it all a secret, completely sexualized the hug.

When she left, I took the lingerie and toy and ran to my father's room, opening several drawers until I found it—a drawer full of lingerie, each piece more decadent than the other. I also found a variety of sex toys and several bottles of flavored lube.

"Oh, Mrs. Barton," I said aloud, "what have you been up to?"

I felt myself harden and sat back on the bed. I pulled my pants down, slathered on some lube, and began to masturbate. I held up a crotchless bustier and imagined Mrs. Barton wearing it. I brought the garment to my face, hoping it had not been laundered. It smelled of soap and softener, so no luck.

But my mind was able to create a scent for Mrs. Barton, and in a matter of minutes, I ejaculated into the garment. I probably shouldn't have, but I wanted to share myself with her, and leaving my semen in the crotch of her panties would suffice. Besides, it would disappear when it dried.

Two days later, I was working at my clerkship when my phone alerted me to someone at the door. I opened the app and saw Mrs. Barton coming in. This would undoubtedly be one of her private sessions. My mind raced, and I could not concentrate, thinking of the attractive middle-aged mom who was in my house wearing lingerie and masturbating.

When I returned home, everything was normal. However, I found a note on the bathroom counter and a new pair of lingerie. The note asked me to wash the garment on the delicate setting and hang it to dry.

I picked it up and inhaled. The pair was soiled. I could smell sweat, and as I moved my nose to the gusset of the garment, I smelled her essence. Mrs. Barton's pussy smelled rich with herbs; there was a dark floral smell that reminded me of figs. As the aroma filled my olfactory senses, my cock swelled with blood. I didn't want to clean it. I put my nose deep in the fabric and found it still wet. I inhaled it repeatedly, getting a forbidden rush with each huff.

I obeyed her wishes and put them in the washer. Although I did wonder why she didn't do that herself. Perhaps she was in a rush. I'd ask her the next time I saw her.

It was a Tuesday, my work-at-home day, when I returned from a morning run to smell bacon cooking in the kitchen.

"Mrs. Barton?"

I entered the kitchen to see Mrs. Barton preparing pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

"Happy birthday!" she said, running up and giving me a deep, warm hug.

"Oh, I'm so sweaty from the run," I declared.

Mrs. Barton's comings and goings at my house made the fact that she was randomly making breakfast hardly unusual.

"A little sweat is not going to stop me from giving you a birthday hug."

She held me tight; I could smell her fresh scent, making me more self-conscious about my sweaty body.

"The Bishop took the kids to his mother's house for two days. She's in St. George. I can't stand the woman and draw a hard line against seeing her. Anyway, I saw you take off for a run and wanted to surprise you."

"Well, this is a surprise. So, thank you. I'll take a shower, and I'll eat."

"It's ready now. Eat as you are, and we'll get you showered later."

We'll get you showered?

A slip of the tongue, perhaps? I scolded myself again for thinking untoward thoughts about such a generous person.

"Ok, fine. I'm going to make myself a coffee. I'll pour you some if you want."

"I have a surprise for you," she said, handing me a bag containing a bottle of Bailey's, Vodka, and Kahlua.

"You said this would make coffee taste better."

I looked at the bottles and Mrs. Barton.

"Really? Yeah, this makes for a killer cup of coffee."

"Well, I want to try that killer cup then."

"I don't think The Bishop would approve."

"You can let me worry about The Bishop. Everything I do is for the betterment of my family and our place in the Church, which requires endless work. If I want to enjoy a little coffee with a kick with my friend, I assure you, The Bishop will approve."

"Okay, fine. I understand, and I completely support you. You do so much for me; I'm not even part of your family. You deserve some time for yourself."

"Thank you. So, pour me a cup!"

I poured her a cup of coffee, putting in several ounces of Bailey's and Kahlua.

"Don't forget the vodka," she scolded.

I handed her the mug.

"Sip it. This is stronger than it tastes."

She took the mug, took a sip, and closed her eyes as she swallowed the warm elixir.

"Wow," she whispered.

We sat down and began to eat the magnificent breakfast she had prepared.

"I had a Jewish friend growing up, Shoshona," she began.

"Her dad was a rabbi, so they were very religious, and they were kosher. But there was a fine line. They had a kosher kitchen, but they also had a non-kosher kitchen downstairs."

She sipped the coffee, closing her eyes to enjoy the buzz.

"They followed their religion, but there were times when they stepped outside the strict rules and had a little fun. Like maybe pizza with pork sausage and other things that were not even close to kosher. They would cook non-kosher meals downstairs. Being the good little Mormon girl I was, I asked how they could justify this. The Rabbi reminded me that religion is complicated. No one is perfect, and we all stray from the path now and again."

She hesitated, then continued her story.

"He chose to have an unkosher kitchen downstairs so they could bend the rules a little and have fun. But when it came to family and the ways of Torah, they always had the kosher kitchen."

"So, they used a second kitchen to cheat on their faith," I said with a condescending laugh.

"They used it to taste the forbidden fruit, and that kept their faith strong."

She took a long drink of her spiked coffee, savored it, and looked around.

"This is my unkosher kitchen."

"Well, your kitchen isn't kosher either."

"No, I mean your house. It's where I can come and bend the rules a little. It's where I can let down my hair and not be the More Mom."

"You've heard that?"

"More Mom? Oh, yeah, I know they say that. Kristi, Sara, all my LDS moms, I know they call me that."

"Perhaps they're just jealous because of everything you have going for you. Perfect family, important husband..."

"I know they're being catty, but I kind of like the title. More Mom. If I'm making the other moms jealous, I must be doing something right."

"More is always better in my book," I added.

"I know, right? Like, let's have more fun coffee!"

"I just hope The Bishop never finds out because he's got my future in his hands."

"What happens in the nonkosher kitchen stays in the nonkosher kitchen, Ethan."

With that, Mrs. Barton tussled my hair and finished her spiked coffee.

"The nonkosher kitchen," I replied with a smile. "I like that."

"Such a smart young man. You're going to make a woman very happy someday. Now, how about a refill?"

She stood up with a slight wobble.

"Maybe you space it out a little."

She spotted a new Amazon box that had just arrived and tore it open with the excitement of a child on Christmas day.

"Oh yes, it's my red bodysuit! Oh, I can't wait to try this on. Look at those roses embroidered on it."

She held up the lingerie, a transparent mesh one-piece outfit in red. There were cutouts for the breasts, the crotch was open, and there was no fabric other than a bow on the backside.

"You like?"

I sure as hell did and nodded my head.

"You want me to try it on? I so want to try it on."

"Well, you can try it in my dad's old room. Plenty of privacy there."

She took the lingerie and headed out with excitement.

"Bring me a fresh cup of nonkosher coffee when you come up."

"Come up?"

"Well, I can't come down with this thing on, so if you want to see it, you'll have to come up."

With that, I heard her rushing up the stairs. I went to the coffee maker and refilled her mug, then added the three liquors and realized my hand was shaking. She had just invited me upstairs to model lingerie. Or maybe I misheard. That's it; I must have misunderstood her.

I ascended the stairs and arrived at the master suite to find the door closed.

I knocked.

"Mrs. Barton. I brought up another cup of coffee. You want me to leave it here?"

"Bring it in," she said.

I steeled myself, ready to see her in that red lingerie. My heart pounded as I opened the door and...

She was in the bathroom, which was off the master bedroom.

"You did not tell me that coffee makes you poop," she said from beyond the door.

"Yeah, it can have that effect."

I felt both let down and relieved. I sat on the bed and examined the lingerie, trying to imagine her wearing it.

I heard the toilet flush, and she emerged from the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"I never poop outside of my home. Never. I need to take a shower now."

"A shower? Now?"

"I always take a shower after I poop. It's a cleanliness issue. I've trained myself to poop each morning before The Bishop wakes, and then I take my morning shower. I like to be clean down there in case The Bishop needs me to perform my wifely duties."

"Wow, you really are the More Mom."

She picked up her second coffee and began to drink it. I felt bummed because I was enjoying my morning with her and didn't want her to leave to take a shower.

"Hey," she said, giving me a playful whack, "I like to be clean. What's wrong with that?"

"Why don't you take a shower here?"

As soon as I spoke, I could feel how awkward it sounded.

But she didn't even flinch at the idea and drank more coffee.

"Look to see if your dad left any good shampoo."

I frantically opened the bathroom cupboard and rummaged through countless bottles of shampoo. Why my dad had so many shampoos remains an eternal mystery.

Um, there's Head and Shoulders, a bottle of Suave peach shampoo, and this, looks expensive--Biolage Hydra source shampoo.

"That's one I use," she said. "That's the one I need."

I handed her the bottle. She looked at me with a long, hard stare to ensure we understood each other.

"Nonkosher kitchen," she said.

"Nonkosher kitchen," I confirmed.

"Now, turn around and head back to the bedroom."

I just stood there, and I'm sure my face betrayed my disappointment.

"If you thought I'd give you a free shower show, you were sadly mistaken."

"Me? What? No?" I said in a panic. Again, I had read the room wrong.

"I'll wait downstairs."

"Just sit on the bed and close the bathroom door halfway so I can have some privacy, and we can talk."

I obediently followed her instructions, closing the door halfway, blocking my view of the shower.

She turned on the water, and I heard her step into the shower and close the door. Perhaps she wanted me to join her. Still sweaty and needing a shower, I stood up, walked to the door, and hesitated.

"So, when was the last time you went to church?" she asked.

"Other than my dad's funeral, not since undergrad. About five years."

"Oh, you're a bad boy. Would you like to join us at church? I'm sure The Bishop would be happy to see you there."

The last thing I wanted was to attend church. Not only had I left the LDS faith, but I had also lost my belief in a higher power. However, it was impossible to say no to her, and earning brownie points with The Bishop would be beneficial.

"Um, sure. Of course."

"Great, next Sunday, you'll join my family. We go to church in the morning and return home for a big meal. Of course, The Bishop has to go to the Temple in the afternoon.

The LDS temples were sacred and only open to members of the faith in good standing. While Mrs. Barton was qualified to attend the temple in the afternoon, her children could not, until they had completed their mission. As a traditional wife, she would stay home to care for her family.

"Tell me about law school." She asked from the shower. "You know, I didn't even ask if you had a girlfriend or something."

"No girlfriend. I did, but she left the school, and it ended."

"Well, now that you're almost in the real world. There'll be a lot of opportunities."

"I'm just focusing on my career right now. If someone comes along, that's great, but job prospects are my focus."

"Smart boy. That's why you want to keep The Bishop happy. He knows everyone. I had to beg him to give you this clerkship."

"Really? Doesn't he like me?"

"Not you; he wasn't a big fan of your father. I mean, he was very sad when he died. But they didn't get along very well. I was kind of the buffer between them."

"My dad always spoke well of you. He said you were the only person I should trust."

"He said that about me? My God, how nice is that? I miss him."

I could hear the shower turn off and the door slide open.

"I guess I owe you for making The Bishop take me on," I said. "I'd be screwed without this internship."

Mrs. Barton came out of the bathroom wearing my dad's old bathrobe.

"Fucked. You can say the big boy words here in the nonkosher kitchen."

"I'd be fucked," I repeated.

Mrs. Barton giggled and drank the rest of her spiked coffee, then came over and sat on the bed near me, her back propped up on the pillows, and let out a relaxing sigh.

"I love this. Just letting my hair down and having some innocent fun. I don't believe God would mind. Even though The Bishop and the kids are gone, I can't do this at home. I'd feel so filthy."

"Well, if this big old empty house can serve as your private haven," I said, "then I'm glad I still have it. I hope my being here this summer doesn't mess that up."

She sat up and leaned over to pick up the Amazon box.

"On the contrary, I love having someone to break the rules with."

She held up the lingerie and examined it.

"What do you think? Be honest. Is it trashy?"

"What are you going for?"

"Someone trashy who is not the More Mom," she replied flatly.

"Yeah, it's fuckin' trashy. But it's super sexy. I think it's great."

"How about you try it on for me?" she said matter-of-factly.

I froze. My heart began to race and I could hear my pulse in my ears.

"You want me to try it on? But it's women's lingerie."

"Please. I really want to see how it looks on a person. For me?"

She made an adorable pouting face.

"I don't know-"

"After all I did for you. Can't you do me this small favor?"

"But The Bishop..." I said, trying to look for an out.

"Nonkosher kitchen. What we cook in this house stays here. Just give me a little fashion show."

She threw me the red lingerie. I held it up; it was sheer, lacy, and very sexy. There were no cups for breasts, and the crotch was an open slit.

"I haven't taken a shower yet. I'm sweaty. I don't want to mess up your outfit."

"That's fine."

I had run out of excuses. There was a part of me that felt like she was daring me. So, I decided to accept the challenge.

I took off my shirt as she watched.

"I don't want to stretch it out," I said, looking for her to stop this.

"I'll get another."

I looked at the lingerie, unsure how to get it on.

"You step into it, put your legs in the leg holes, and then raise the bra and straps over your arms."

I was still wearing my running shorts, so I attempted to step into the lingerie with them on.

"No. Take off those shorts. Stop being such a prude and do this right."

I pulled my shorts down and stepped out, now only wearing some red Lulu Lemon briefs. My hands were shaking as I pulled them down. I turned away from her so that when I pulled down my underwear, she could only see my ass.

I had been sporting an erection off and on for the past 30 minutes. Since I was turned away from her, I was glad she didn't see my cock flop out angrily.

I heard her gasp and realized I was standing in front of a dressing mirror, and she had witnessed every inch of my grand entrance.

I quickly stepped into the bodysuit lingerie and pulled it up. It might be humiliating to wear women's lingerie, but at least I'd be clothed.

Pulling it up my torso, I put the straps over my arms. The two openings for women's breasts looked odd. Of course, with no breasts, it was just my flat chest.

But when I looked down, there was my cock hanging between my legs through the open crotch of the outfit. I stood there, embarrassed beyond belief.

"Turn around."

I don't know why, but I obeyed.

"Are you blushing? Oh, my God, why? You look great. Know what? You look like Tim Curry in Rocky Horror. You do!"

I turned away from her and could now see myself in the dressing mirror. There I was, six foot one, wearing a too-small women's one-piece open-breast crotchless outfit with my cock and balls hanging free.

"Oh my God, your ass is perfect. I'm so jealous; it's tighter than mine."

I backed up and sat on the bed trying to cover my erection.

"Can I take this off now?" I asked. Not that I needed permission, but it sure felt like I did.

"Come up here next to me. Come on."

She patted the bed next to her, and I moved to her side, still wearing my dad's bathrobe while I remained in her lingerie.

"Wow, I can understand why the Church says no to coffee and liquor," she said, "look what it made us do."

She knew as well as I did that this had nothing to do with the spirits.

"What are we doing, Mrs. Barton? I don't know if I understand your game."

"Mrs. Barton? Really? I told you to call me Amanda. We're both adults."

"What are we doing, Amanda?"

"Are you upset with me?" she asked.

"Frustrated."

She leaned over and laid her head on my chest looking down my body directly at my erection.

"You smell so wild. It's almost animal-like."

"I need a shower," I replied.

"You need to relax. Can I help you relax?"

She kept her head on my chest, looking at my cock, which bobbed with each beat of my heart then brought her right hand down and gripped it.

Her hands were cool, and her touch felt great against the heat of my cockflesh.

At last!

This woman had been taunting me for days. But we were finally getting somewhere. I closed my eyes, and she stroked my cock, eliciting a long, drawn-out groan from me.

"There's a good boy. Let Mandy help you relax."

She lay her head on my chest, looking down at my cock as she masturbated it.

I wasn't sure if I should try to kiss her or push her head down to take me in her mouth.

I decided to do nothing and just enjoy the moment.

She gripped my cock tight, moving the elastic flesh up and down. My skin was salty from the run, and despite the enjoyment of receiving a hand job, I could feel my flesh chafing.

She felt it too and rolled to the right, opened the bedside drawer, and took out a bottle of cherry-scented lube, which she slathered on my cock and resumed masturbating me.

I looked down; my cock glistened and slurped as she was able to move her hand up and down the entire shaft with silky ease.

She swirled her hand, then moved into quick jerks and brought her other hand in and grasped my balls, squeezing them tight. I brought my hand to her head and began to run my fingers through her hair.

I felt like I needed to participate. She could sense my breath quickening and held my cock at the hilt with one hand while she stroked with the other. As her pace quickened, I knew I wouldn't last much longer.

I gave out an involuntary groan, and she knew I was close. The spongy underside of my cock was swollen, and my balls grew deep red. We could both feel my ejaculation beginning. She gripped my balls with her hand tightly.

"Let's see how much cum you have."

With that, she released my balls and gently massaged them. Whatever that trick was, the rush of cum created a sensation of euphoria and relief.

I fired off a long rope of thick cum that landed on my chest, soaking the red lingerie. A second rope of cum was even more substantial, and some of it landed in her hair. The third rope of cum hit her face, and the next two continued to soil the lingerie.

Despite being hit with semen, she never moved and continued to masturbate me slowly and see just how much remnant cum she could coax from my balls.

The pressure was relieved, and the remaining cum bubbled up from my cock and ran down across her hands. She gently pumped me until nothing was left.

Taking a finger to clean the semen from her face, she put the finger in her mouth to taste my ejaculate, like a chef seeing if the sauce was just right.

She looked up at me with a smile.

"You're one healthy boy. It's been a while since I've seen that much cum. It tastes perfect."

"I've never tasted it."

"Healthy semen tastes like a slightly salty mushroom with a hint of ammonia. But never unpleasant. You have excellent semen."

She rubbed her finger in a thick glob of my semen, then brought it to my mouth.

"No, thank you," I said, uninterested in tasting my sauce.

"No, try it. It's perfect. And so much of it, too."

"Mrs. Barton, I mean Amanda, should we talk about what just happened?"

She crawled up next to me, so we were almost face to face.

"Did you like that, Ethan?"

"I did. But-"

"I liked it too," She said, interrupting me. "I want to keep doing this. And more."

"Well, that's just it. What was this?"

"That was a test. I wanted to see if you could follow my instructions. I don't have many rules, but I need you to follow the few I lay down for you."

"What kind of rules?"

I want to spend a lot of time with you this summer. I want us to share our bodies. I want us to make love. Often.

"You want to sleep with me?"

"We'll make love whenever I want, which can be often. You may not make love to any other woman for the rest of the summer. You are not to masturbate without my permission. Don't worry, you won't need to, I'll keep you satisfied.

Was this really happening? This was Mrs. Barton, the More Mom, telling me how many ways she would please me as her sexual partner.

There was more.

"You can have me any way you choose. But you must always finish in my vagina. God's seed is never to be wasted."

I found it amusing, or perhaps ironic, that she somehow integrated religion into what was essentially just a wild sexual affair.

"What about The Bishop?"

"The Bishop is a wonderful man-a great provider, a man of the temple, a leader. But he's impotent in the bedroom; he has been for years. I, on the other hand, have an insatiable thirst."

"Are you on the pill? Should I get condoms?"

"No and no."

"Um, who's Mandy? You keep saying her name."

"Me, I'm Mandy. At least here in the nonkosher bedroom. Amanda, Mandy. Get it?"

"I'm not even used to calling you Amanda and now you have a nickname.

She wrinkled her nose at me.

"That name is meant for our shared use—no one else. As for Mrs. Barton, you should probably keep that up in public. We can't display any informality around The Bishop; he's a very intuitive man."

Mrs. Barton got on her knees and straddled my body. I hoped she was going to shed the robe, which she did, but only partway. She took off the top, revealing her breasts.

"Now, if there are no more questions, I want to feel you inside me."

Her breasts were large for her petite frame and hung down with some weight. Her areolas and nipples were surprisingly larger than I'd have imagined. She was always tan, but her breasts were milk-white, and I could even see the blue of her veins.

She remained hovering over me, but when my cock began to stir, I could feel it pressing against something fleshy and wet.

She smiled.

"You like them. I can tell."

"They're amazing."

"They are. Now watch this."

She took her left hand and grasped the nipple of her left breast, placing her hand above the nipple and pushing down as she squeezed.

To my shock and amazement, twin tiny streams of milk shot out of her nipple, landing on my face; she continued to squeeze, and droplets of her mother's milk followed.

I was amazed, and I continued to harden in response. I could feel my cock pressing on the wet flesh under her robe.

"This is for John-John. I can't get pregnant while I'm breastfeeding, so we won't need any protection."

"You sure? That sounds like some kind of myth."

I have five children; I've nursed them all for over a year. I've made love countless times and never conceived while I breastfeed. So, no, we don't need any protection. We'll celebrate each other's bodies as God intended, natural, skin on skin, intimate. I'll do anything you desire, and you'll leave your seed in me. We cannot waste what the Lord has provided.

She held out her breast.

"Now, would you like to taste?"

I was unsure, but my cock was certain. It surged yet again against her body. I could not tell where, but a small trickle of hot fluid dripped from within her and drenched my glans let me know I was almost inside her pussy.

She bent forward, holding her left breast out, bringing it to my mouth. Her purple nipple was saturated in the milk she had already produced, and she gently guided it around my lips, wetting them.

I opened my mouth wider, and she pushed her thick teat inside, like a penis penetrating a vagina. She was forceful, and her breast flesh filled my mouth as her nipple sought out my tongue and urged my mouth to latch on.

I could smell her clean body and the scent of her milk.

"Come on, Bryant, taste Mandy."

My mouth closed on her breast, creating suction, and my tongue stimulated her nipple, telling her nerves it was time to produce. There was nothing, and then she gave a gentle sigh. I could feel a strange sensation as her milk ducts contracted, followed by a letdown, and her breast milk filled my mouth.

"There's a good boy," she said as she went from straddling me to sitting directly atop my cock.

The warmth of her pussy enveloped my penis. I wasn't inside her, but her vagina was around the length of my penis like the bun of a hot dog, sliding back and forth, wetting and preparing it.

Slowly, she took her teat out of my mouth. I chased it slightly, but she pulled it away, drying it with the robe.

"That's all for you. The rest is for John-John."

She slid back and forth over my cock, using her pussy to sense how hard I was.

"You want me to take a shower first?" I offered.

"No, I want to taste your sweat; I want to smell your animal scent. Now, one more thing. Take off that lingerie. From here on out, you're in charge of me. You tell me what you want. You tell me what you're going to do to me. You can punish me if I displease you."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "That feels kind of, I don't know."

"Have you heard the term Trad Wife? It means a traditional wife. That's me. I serve my husband and my family. Cook the meals, get the children off to school. Being a trad wife is my full-time job."

This wasn't the conversation I needed as I was about to enter her.

A man should treat his woman with love and respect, but with a firm hand. My job is to please my husband. In this bed, I am your property.

"But I'm not your husband."

"In this house, you are. I answer to you. You'll treat me as your wife, and I'll serve you as my husband."

And outside this house?

"I'm Mrs. Barton. Wife of Bishop Barton and expect you to honor that."

I was starting to comprehend her game and her rules.

I had always heard the joke: When Mormon girls go bad, they go really bad. But no one ever told me when Mormon moms go bad, they go incredible.

I decided to test the waters.

"Ok, Mandy, take off that robe and let me see your body."

Mandy complied by getting off the bed and dropping her robe, standing before me unadorned and unabashed. At least now I could see her entire body.

She was of average height, neither short nor tall, but she had a petite frame. You wouldn't know she had given birth to five children when clothed, yet her body revealed some signs of childbirth and early middle age.

Her breasts, full and natural, bore the unmistakable signs of the milk she carried. Still, they retained a sexy fitness that was undeniably alluring.

She had some flaws, and while they were few, they made her all the more alluring. Her soft body bore the marks of her life. Her waist had a gentle, elegant curve, and despite having given birth a year ago, her skin remained tight. Her hips were full, and the only hint at the five children she had borne was the slight softness of her midsection.

Her pubic hair was neatly groomed above her perfectly bare slit. I could see her labia lips were large and hung down.

"Do I please you?" she asked.

She was very intentional in her statements.

Sure, she said I was meant to be in control, but I realized that she was someone who understood her power and required no one's permission to claim it.

She had orchestrated everything to lead us to this moment and was entirely unapologetic.

"You do."

I got up off the bed and tore off the lingerie, ripping it in half until I was standing before her naked. My cock was now fully erect.

I guided her to the bed, and she sat and scooched back. I sat next to her and slowly moved in. This incredible woman had masturbated me and then offered herself to me without limits, and yet I hadn't even kissed her.

She looked at me as I moved in for a gentle kiss. When our lips connected, I could feel a true spark of passion. Putting her hand around my neck, she pulled me in tight and opened her mouth to explore mine. Her hand slid to my erection and began to masturbate me gently. I could tell she wasn't trying to make me cum but was testing to see if I had refracted.

I let my hand drift to her breast, gently rubbing her nipple with my thumb. How we held each other and pressed our bodies together was strangely intimate and felt right.

I didn't feel like an adulterer. I felt like I belonged with her, and she belonged with me. My nonkosher wife.

I desperately wanted to feel her mouth on my cock. I knew I could tell her to suck it, but I wanted this to be her choice. I gently pushed on her head, letting her know my desire.

Far more experienced than I, she began to kiss her way down my body. She licked around my nipples and across my chest, taking in the salt of my sweat.

When she finally reached my cock she licked it gently, put the tip in her mouth and ran her tongue around a band of rough flesh under the thick cap. Looking up at me with a smile.

"I love a circumcised cock. So good-looking. So perfect. The Bishop isn't circumcised."

I wasn't looking for a conversation or debate about the aesthetics of circumcision, and I did not want to discuss another man's penis.

Fortunately, she put her mouth over my cock and took it gently in her mouth. I could feel her tongue working the underside of my shaft while she slid down the base and gently pulled back.

She was taking her time, enjoying the thickness of my cock as it begged for more friction.

My girlfriend had never been keen on blow jobs, and more than once, she used her teeth, which was always a dealbreaker.

But Mrs. Barton... I mean, Mandy, came with all the care of an experienced, passionate lover, and her mouthwork was sending shivers through my body.

I'd have been happy to cum in her mouth, but the build-up to this moment was too intense, and I reminded myself I needed to finish deep inside her per her instructions.

Mandy moved her body, so she was down between my legs, my cock still in her mouth, her eyes looking up at me as she continued to bob slowly in and out.

I could see the wet sheen her saliva left when she would pull up on my cock, and then it would disappear as her mouth returned to the hilt.

She then pulled back, and my cock popped out of her mouth and slapped against my body with a wet, meaty sound. When she lifted my balls and took her tongue to my perineum I could feel her cleaning my flesh and teasing my anus, almost daring me to cum.

She finally crawled forward, moving over my body until her mouth was on mine again. Her weighty breasts were pressing on my chest. She held my face as she kissed me gently.

"Baby, I know you want to be inside me, but would you taste me first?"

While completely unabashed, she had a way of suggesting the most lurid things most innocently.

"Taste you?"

"Uh huh. The Bishop won't go down on me. He considers it filthy. It's been so long since I've had a tongue in there. I love a tongue inside me."

What I wanted to do was fuck her, but the way she offered me to sample her pussy was inviting. I pushed on her shoulder to roll her over so I could go down on her, but she wanted to serve me.

She held me down and sat up, straddling my lower torso so that the round of her ass was just above the tip of my pulsating cock and she began to scooch forward.

She put a pillow behind my head and slid her wet pussy along my torso and then chest, leaving a trail of her glistening essences behind her.

As she shuffled forward, bringing her vagina to my face, I got a better look at the object of my desire. She had shaved her labia lips, revealing a pronounced pubic mound. Above the mound, she kept a neatly maintained field of thin pubic hair. Her pussy was swollen, and I could see she had surprisingly larger inner lips.

She smelled clean and wholesome and held still, allowing a long, clear string of her pussy juice to drip off her thick purple labia lips. It just held there, waiting for gravity to claim it.

She gyrated gently, and the drizzle of her thick glycerin effusion dripped down to my waiting tongue like drool.

I ran her thick honey across my lips with my tongue.

She lowered herself to my waiting mouth, leaving my nose free to breathe as she ground herself against my face with a long moan of pleasure.

I immediately went to work with my mouth and tongue. She took both hands, leaned forward and began running her fingers through my hair. Rising and falling methodically, she kept her hand in my hair, pulling it as she rode my face with indulgence.

Her gentle moans were like music, and the taste of her vagina was as intoxicating as the strongest liquor.

Occasionally, she would clear her hair from her face and grasp her heavy breasts, massaging them as she enjoyed the ride.

She leaned in again, grasping my head, and, in doing so, brought her clit to my mouth. It was large, and when my tongue found it, she let out a moan and pulled on my hair painfully.

She widened her stance, pressing her pussy harder into me, making certain her clit was grinding against my tongue.

"Oh, my God, Bryant," she moaned and let out a cry that turned into a prolonged moan.

I attacked her clit again, and she shook her hands like she was bearing witness in a Baptist church.

Looking up, her nourishing breasts heavily swayed with her body. Her nipples were red and swollen again, and I could not resist the temptation to reach up and knead them.

Despite their density, they were butter soft. She brought her hands to mine. I thought to move them from her sensitive nipples, but instead, she guided me, showing me how she liked her breast touched and then brought my fingers to her nipples, teaching me how to draw milk from her with my fingers.

She leaned forward even more, positioning her clit right where I could suckle it like a third nipple.

"Oh my God," she moaned. "Please."

She was unaware of her body's reaction to the pleasure and began squeezing her legs against my head as she attempted to push the top of her pussy into me.

"I'm going to cum, baby. I can't hold it—the tongue. I've missed your tongue so much."

She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she placed them on her ass as she let out long wails that sounded like she was crying.

I looked up at her, but there were no tears, just eyes closed in bliss and her mouth open with her tongue halfway out.

Puttin my hands on her ass I held her still as I moved my face from across her vagina, attacking and painting her clit with my saliva.

She put her hands up and cupped her breasts, one in each hand, holding them like two loaves of soft bread dough. Looking down at me, she smiled to see me watching her.

There was a gentle gush of her juices, and her taste changed, with a hint of sweetness mixed in with the savory tastes I had been enjoying.

She was plateauing. Her breathing increased, I could feel her leg muscles tense, and the walls of her vagina turned purple.

Initially, it wasn't hard to find her clit, but now this close to orgasm, it retreated under its thick hood. I tried to chase it.

Turns out that's a button a man needs to stop pressing at some point. Rather than give me a lecture on proper clitoral attention, she scooched forward, sliding her greased labia over my face and putting her clit out of range of my mouth.

My old girlfriend had petite, quiet orgasms, but not Mandy. Her legs shook; her pussy began to flare.

My hands were still on her ass as my forefinger found the dark star of her anus. It was soaked from my saliva and her effluence, and when my finger pressed, it dilated enough for me to enter her dark opening. Her reaction was instantaneous.

"Oh, that feel so weird," she moaned.

Perhaps I was the first to venture into that darkness. I'd have to ask later because, at this moment, with my finger only a knuckle deep in her ass, her orgasm gripped her like a bomb. She let out a loud wail, which would have woken all the children if we had any, and then she went rigid. I pushed my wandering finger deeper as her inner muscles clamped down around it.

A thin sheen of perspiration covered her body as she gently ground her pussy against my face, careful to keep her overstimulated clit away from further action. Her vagina was covering my nose and mouth, and if she didn't dismount soon, I'd have to push her off to grab some air.

She leaned right, broke the tight seal of over my mouth, and rolled off me as her wetness and my saliva stretched in thin, glistening strands of her elastic effluence.

My finger was still in her ass, and she gently reached back to pull it out.

"Easy on the finger, babe. It's been a while since anything's gone in that doorway."

Well, that answered the question. I wasn't the first to explore that passage.

She rolled to my side and lay there exhausted.

"So, you finished, right?" I asked amateurishly.

"I'm pretty sure I just rained right in your mouth. So, you figure it out."

I smiled.

"Nice move with that finger. I think you added about 30 extra seconds to that ride."

"You said it's been a while since you've done that."

The Bishop disapproves of ass play. It's not part of God's plan for procreation.

Well, neither is oral sex, I replied.

"You think The Bishop would let me sit on his face? Not a chance. By the way, thank you for that."

"You don't have to thank me. I loved it. Do you mind if I ask a personal question?"

Mandy snuggled in close to me.

"I'm an open book to you."

"Why did you marry him? I mean, he's a nice guy, but you seem so much more, I don't know... evolved?"

"I was engaged to marry him when I was 17 and he was 30. My parents were excited. I mean, he was on track to be a Bishop in the Church, and now he is. We got married a week after I turned 18, and I started having babies. We're a good LDS couple, doing our duty to the church."

I didn't want to question the word "good" as I lay naked next to her, so I changed gears.

"How much longer with the nursing thing? I mean, I like it and all but..."

"It's time to ween John-John soon. The Bishop wants us to have two more kids."

"Two more? That's seven kids. Are you sure about that?"

"I love being pregnant. I love serving the church. I love serving The Bishop, and now I love serving you. It's what I do best."

I did not understand this woman. She was as devout as they come, but when she walked through the doorway to my house, she was a wild sexual beast with no boundaries. At least none that I could discern.

I bit my lower lip and was immediately reminded of her intimate flavors. She noticed me licking around my mouth and brought her lips against mine to join in.

She began to lick more aggressively, enjoying the now-drying silk her body had left on my face.

"I can be very wet at times. I should've warned you,"

She returned to kissing me and then gently began to stroke my cock.

"Will you make love to me?"

I nodded yes.

"Do you have a favorite position?" I asked.

We've got all summer to find which one we both like best. Maybe, since we're both LDS..." she let the sentence dangle.

She gazed at me with a smirk, fully aware that I was a jack Mormon, which is as far from the faith as one can get.

"Missionary. What I was going to suggest was missionary."

She smiled and held her arms out for me. I gently rolled atop her body as her heavy breasts hung to each side of her torso. Her flesh, pressed to mine, felt wonderful, and I would've been fine spending the evening in her embrace.

She brought her hand to my face and pulled me in for a kiss. It began tentatively, both of us uncertain. But when her lips met mine, she slipped her tongue and explored my mouth with hunger. My face glistened with the remnants of my visit to her pussy.

She could taste the lingering tang of her arousal, and it stirred something in her.

My cock was stiff and lying atop the rim of her slit, waiting for the right moment to slip inside. I felt a hand and realized she intended to guide me. She positioned the tip of my cock on the edge of her folds, then gently put a hand on my ass and, with subtle pressure, urged me to push in and drive myself deep inside.

I could feel her labia part as my cock met her slick insides. I easily slid in until my balls were resting on her perineum. Her inner walls clenched and rippled in response to my invasion, grasping my cock and massaging it. It felt amazing.

I was inside her and pleasing her became my only goal. She was older and more experienced and I was worried about being clumsy, about disappointing her.

"It feels so good right now," she cooed. "So good."

I felt myself stiffen. She kissed me some more, holding my face and then licking off some of the flavors that glistened around my mouth. I began to gently pump my cock slow in and out as she whispered.

She sensed my hesitation, brought her hands to my face, gave me a soft kiss, and whispered.

"There's nothing to worry about. Just let yourself feel."

"I want you to enjoy this," I replied.

"I already am. Yours is the biggest I've ever had inside me."

I smiled, realizing I had at least one thing over The Bishop. Although it wasn't a competition, I took it as a victory. That alone inspired me to prove my worth as a lover to her.

I began to push my hips toward her, thrusting, pushing my cock deeper into her pussy. She matched my pace, meeting my push with a roll of her hips. After three of these gyrations, I heard small groans of pleasure. Bending her knees, she opened them wider, anything to help me go deeper inside.

I responded with a faster pace. Her wetness created slurping sounds which mingled with rhythmic slapping of our flesh.

"I'm so close, Ethan," she said loudly.

There was no need to whisper or sneak about. In our non-kosher kitchen, she felt safe letting her voice be heard.

Those gentle groans quickly grew into wails of pleasure. I could feel my orgasm building. It began in my fingers, moving to my core. My balls swelled, and I could feel the rush of semen as it raced through my urethra, seeking exit into her moistness.

I let out a primal grunt as my orgasm began. Instantly, her body met my surges of semen with a grinding roll of her hips. She was a master at this. No wonder she had been pregnant for most of the past 18 years.

I could feel pulse after pulse of cum leaving my body in exchange for a prolonged feeling of absolute bliss.

Mandy was panting, breathing hard, but the moment she felt my cum splash inside her, she let out a moan of pleasure that came from her core.

Deep within her, my semen moved aggressively, looking for any place to stick. Our bodies were now acting on instinct as my sperm-filled seed pushed past her acidic barriers, seeking her cervix.

As I gently slowed my gyrating, I pulled out halfway to see my cock glistening with a generous coating of my cum. The smell of semen and her intoxicating aroma, in addition to my unbathed sweat, filled the room with the tell-tale odor of fucking.

When I finally pulled out, a gentle backflow of her fluids and my cum, trickled along the fourchette of her vagina, pooling on the sheets in a thick puddle.

She lay there still, enjoying the last moment of her decaying orgasm.

"I had forgotten how good it feels," she said to no one. She then reached down and smeared the mixture of our union that covered her pussy inside and out.

"Look at the mess we made." She whispered.

I dwelled on the statement.

What a mess we made.

I had just fucked the wife of my boss, my neighbor, a good Mormon woman, a pillar of the community.

What a mess, indeed.

I knew the right thing to do was to end this here and now. We had fun; this was the right time to end this game before it got any messier.

I turned to her, determined to draw the line. She lay on the bed, glowing in the moment looking incredible. I searched for the words.

"I think you need a shower," She said with a giggle. She smiled and ran her finger along the underside of my cock.

"Don't worry. I'm going to join you. I want to bathe my non-kosher husband. Would you like that, baby?"

I could feel myself stiffen. If we were making a mess, I was happy to be a part of it. My speech about drawing a line would have to wait.

CHAPTER 2

HE'S A KEEPER

Four years ago, my neighbor, Wayne, was worried about his son, Ethan, who was entering his senior year at Georgetown. Ethan was researching law schools, and Wayne hoped The Bishop would provide guidance and influence to navigate the application process and supply the necessary letters of recommendation.

We were in DC and had lunch planned in Georgetown. I was excited to see Ethan again after several years away from Provo. At the last minute, The Bishop was too busy to attend but encouraged me to meet with Ethan, reconnect, and learn more about him; he would base his recommendations on my feedback.

He wandered into the restaurant, and I nearly gasped. The boy had grown up. He hugged me and said I hadn't aged a day in the four years since he'd last seen me. He, on the other hand, had matured and now exuded a polished charm with a youthful glow that seemed almost unfair. He was a blend of boyish mischief and adult poise, and I could picture him as the kind of guy who could win over your parents and then convince you to sneak out to a party.

We talked about his future. He asked about his dad, whom he hadn't seen in a while. He asked about my kids, all of whom were doing great. This wasn't just conversation; this young man was deeply interested in what I had to say.

I got around to mentioning Harvard. He was still undecided about the school, unsure if he could get in. But I assured him The Bishop could make it happen.

I didn't bother to tell him; we owed his father a debt of gratitude, so getting Ethan into Harvard was our priority and if The Bishop wanted it to happen, it would happen.

An older woman selling flowers from table to table interrupted our conversation.

"Would you like to buy a flower for your girlfriend?" she asked Ethan.

"Oh, I'm not his-"

Ethan interrupted me and pulled out some cash.

"I would."

He chose a beautiful rose and handed it to me.

"Thank you, young man," she said then looked at me.

"He's a keeper this one," and then moved on to the next table.

"Well, I guess I'm your girlfriend now."

He smiled with that unending charm of his.

"At least until lunch is over."

"That was nice of you to buy her flowers. She looks like she needs that money."

And you looked like you needed a flower, so everyone wins."

There it was. The one virtue that trumps all others - empathy. Ethan cared about everyone. Even me.

We resumed our conversation about law school, home, and various other topics, but I was lost in the moment. My mind wandered, as it often does, and I envisioned myself as his girlfriend, enjoying lunch and planning our future together.

A text from The Bishop brought me back to my senses. Ethan walked me to my Uber, and I left. I chose to leave the flower in the Uber when I returned to The Bishop. There was nothing inappropriate about it; I just didn't want to share that gesture with anyone else.

Though I left the flower behind, I couldn't shake my thoughts of this remarkable man. That encounter left a mark on me. With so much going on in my life, the last thing I needed was a crush on my neighbor's son. I thought time and distance would take care of it.

It did.

Until it didn't.

When he returned for his father's funeral, it all came rushing back. He was so sad, but carried himself with a quiet empathy. I watched as his gaze often drifted toward the casket, hollowed by the finality of it all. He would be returning to Boston to finish his degree, and I doubted he would ever be back.

The selfish side of me wanted him back here.

That's when I came up with the idea for the internship with The Bishop's firm.

It's been a month since he came home, and so far I've accomplished everything I set out to do. After just a week of flirting, we ended up in bed. Over the past three weeks, we've made love fifteen times. It would be more if I could manage it.

The fantasies I created in my head when I sat across from him at our lunch in Georgetown pale in comparison to the intensity of our recent bodily unions.

I looked at myself in the mirror and fixed my hair. Ethan liked it when I wore it down, no ponytail.

"I'm going for a walk," I yelled and quickly left. I started my walk, stopping to talk to the Joyces as they headed out for the day.

When I was sure no one was watching, I ducked into the woods behind Ethan's house and made it to the back door using my code to enter.

Ethan and I had been holding our non-kosher kitchen meetings for three weeks now. He was a study in virility, and I found that he could rise to the occasion two, and sometimes three, times a day.

Sometimes I would enter through the front door with food deliveries or cleaning supplies—nothing suspicious there. At other times, I slipped in through the backyard. It was difficult to keep my visits to his home a secret, but the rewards were incredible.

I found a steaming cup of coffee waiting for me on the counter, with a bottle of Kahlúa next to it. I poured a few ounces of the Kahlúa into the coffee and noticed a small box with a bow beside the coffee.

A gift! I love receiving gifts. Whether small or large, I've always viewed gifts as a token of appreciation for my dedication to everything. I took the box and the coffee upstairs to our bedroom, where I could hear my young husband in the shower.

Bryant had adapted beautifully to our game of playing house. I could see how excited he got when I called him husband, and I loved it when he called me his wife.

"I'm home, baby," I shouted over the sound of the running water. I loved watching him in the shower. His youthful body was strong and muscular. The Bishop had a rather hairy physique and a soft belly, which I found unappealing, but this young man was my Adonis.

Ethan was hairless other than around his cock, and I loved the touch of his skin. He was also so responsive to my needs, grooming his pubic hair very short as a courtesy to me. Small efforts always meant the most to me.

He was always so focused on my pleasure, even though I had to remind him that it was unnecessary. My faith required that my husband have a direct covenant with God, and I was bound to obey my husband. Or, in this case, my husbands.

The church removed the "obey your husband" language a few years ago, but I disagreed with that and continued to obey The Bishop, and now I also obeyed Ethan, at least here in the non-kosher kitchen.

I explained this to Ethan, who reminded me that he did not have a covenant with God. But I did. Each time Ethan left his seed in me, it was a spiritual experience, and through that intimate unity, I was bringing him back into the church. By the end of the summer, he would understand his role and place in my life.

"You got me a gift; that's not fair. I didn't get you anything."

Ethan looked out of the shower at me.

"I'm pretty sure you've given me almost everything you have."

I blushed. I had dedicated myself to pleasing this young man and was glad he noticed.

"It's jewelry," he said before I opened it.

"Ethan! I can't wear jewelry from you. People will ask questions,"

"This one you can. Open it."

I opened it to find a set of three gold butt plugs with jeweled ends, each larger than the last.

I looked up to him to catch his wry smile.

"You're a dirty boy," I said as I bit my lower lip like I used to in high school to drive the boys wild.

"Well, I didn't get you anything, but I think I can find a way to thank you for being so thoughtful."

I began to disrobe, slowly taking my top off and then unhooking my bra. I took my time, knowing he was hungrily watching me.

Turning away I slid down my tennis shorts so he could look at my ass. Obviously, it had been on his mind, so teasing him excited us both.

He reached out of the shower and pulled me in, pressing my body against his, his erect cock pushing on my belly.

"I love work-at-home days," he said as he kissed me.

I loved his remote workdays. I'd spend most of my time in his bed, and between his calls and work, he would visit me, make love to me, and then return to his workstation, completing tasks for my husband.

I'd remain in bed, watching my shows and patiently waiting for him to return.

"So, this jewelry you got me... what do you want me to do with it?" I said as I helped lather his body.

"I want you to wear it when you're with him. I want you to feel me inside you, no matter where you go."

"Ethan, are you jealous of my relationship with The Bishop? He's my husband, too. You do understand the arrangement?"

Ethan had begun to wash my sensitive breasts, taking care not to cause them to letdown and lactate. I had never met someone as thoughtful as this young man.

"I understand the arrangement, and perhaps I'm overstepping my boundaries, but I'd appreciate it if you wore this. Don't you want to make me happy?"

He knew I did. The truth is that the idea of carrying a symbol of our relationship into my public life was both exhilarating and terrifying.

I had my rules, and they were risk-averse, so why was I so excited about his suggestion?

I changed the subject.

"Gideon is leaving for his mission next week. We're having a send-off barbecue next Saturday. I really want you to attend."

Ethan bristled at the idea of a backyard barbecue. I could see he wasn't too interested.

"Those are for family," he said, looking for a way out.

"You are family, I replied. You're mine, and through me, you are family. I expect you to attend."

Of course, I had surrendered authority to Ethan when we began this summer fling, so I needed to sweeten the pot.

"I'll make a deal with you: I'll wear my special gift all day, along with those red panties you like. All day, under my skirt."

I stroked his cock to accentuate my point.

"Just. For. You."

Ethan bit his lip. I could see the wheels turning.

"All day?"

"All day, just for you."

I had him. Men are easy to control when desire is involved. Having Ethan over was going to be thrilling. However, adding the butt plug was going to be a challenge.

There was no time to dwell on the barbeque because Ethan had begun to gently massage my ass with soap and water, while holding my body against him. He ran his finger along my backside crease, stopping on the clench of my sphincter.

His gentle touch made my nipples harden, and I quickly forgot my concerns about next week. Ethan was pressing his finger on my ass, silently asking permission to enter.

"Tell me what to do," I whispered, urging him to take command.

"Let me in," he replied and pushed harder.

The warm water had relaxed my sphincter muscles, with a second push, my ass relented, and his finger sunk in up to the knuckle. The invasion sent electricity across my body, and I let out a gentle sigh.

"You'll wear it at the barbecue," he started, "When that's over, you make an excuse to come over here, and I'll..."

"Say it. Say what you'll do to me," I pleaded. He pushed his finger in deeper.

"I'll fuck your ass. That's what I want and that's what you're going to do."

I was happy to see him taking control.

His single digit was gently massaging my anus from the inside.

"What if I say no?" I whispered.

He stumbled; his finger halted probing my dark passage. He was too good a man to ever ignore the word no. He respected women. His father had raised him well.

I didn't want to ruin the moment.

"Don't worry baby, I'll never say no to you. If that's what you want me to do, I'll obey."

Crises of conscience avoided.

His finger resumed massaging my passage.

My hand was massaging his cock, and I could feel it stiffen at the mention of fucking my ass next week.

The finger felt good. I wanted more.

"Add a finger, baby, add a finger," I begged.

I wish he had done it without me asking. But I was training him. In time, he would stop asking for permission to do anything.

His index finger entered with his middle finger, doubling the pressure in my ass. I let out a small grunt of pleasure and bent forward to allow passage.

If this was anything like what he would be doing to me next week with his cock, the pleasure factor would be incredible.

He could sense my enjoyment and gently widened his fingers in my bowels.

Suddenly, I felt the urge to pee.

Fuck, not now!

I wanted to cum, but the pressure to urinate was strong.

"I have to pee," I said to him. "I have to pee."

I wanted him to take his fingers out so I could run to the toilet.

"Go ahead," he said with indifference. "Pee."

"I've never done that in front of a man."

"I said, pee. We're in the shower, just pee."

He wasn't asking. He was telling. The pressure on my bladder was intense.

"Okay," I said between gasps. "Please don't look."

I remained leaning over, his fingers still in in my ass as I relaxed my pelvic floor and let a strong stream of urine go.

The warm pee hit the shower floor and splashed on our feet.

Inside me, I felt the pressure leaving my body. Whenever I hold in a pee too long, the feeling of relieving myself is one of the best, topped only by an orgasm.

As my stream flowed, the pressure on my bladder reduced, but the pressure on his fingers increased, and the nerve endings surrounding my sphincter began to fire.

The euphoric feeling of emptying my bladder rolled directly into an anal orgasm that I did not see coming. I felt my knees weaken and my legs buckle. Ethan grabbed me, and I held onto him as my body shuddered through the experience.

I didn't need to narrate the moment. Ethan could see what was transpiring and did his best to keep me from going to the ground as the incredible feeling rolled on and on.

Finally, it ended. As I came down from the dual feeling of pleasure, I became self-conscious about what had transpired.

It was embarrassing to have relieved myself and orgasmed in front of Ethan.

"That was amazing," he whispered as he held me.

It was the perfect storm. Three stimulations arriving at the exact moment - the pleasure of relieving my bladder, the pleasure of his finger stretching me from inside, and the pleasure of obeying his commands: three pleasures, all mine.

I loved how it felt with him holding me as I orgasmed and didn't want him to let me go.

"How was that?" he asked.

"The best orgasm I've ever had," I said as I attempted to stand upright.

I reached out and turned off the water.

"Take me to the bed," I demanded.

I probably could have walked, but I didn't want to. He took a towel and wrapped me up, then carried me like a bride to the bed, depositing me gently on the right side.

"You need to rest?" he asked.

"I've never tried anal," I confessed. "Have you?"

He shook his head no.

The truth was, he caught me off guard with the toys. The Church frowned on sodomy, but the Church frowned on a lot of things I had come to enjoy. On the list of sins I was committing with Ethan, allowing him into my ass, was probably not even in the top ten.

"I don't want it to hurt," he said. "That's why I got the set. We start small and build up."

"So, you want to train my butt to accept your penis?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so-"

Ethan, what did I say to you when we first made love?

"You said you would do anything I desired,"

"Is this what you desire?" I asked.

"I think we both might like it," he said.

"Be gentle."

I then rolled over, so I was lying flat on the bed, face down. I opened my legs to allow him to explore my backside.

Face down, I could only feel and imagine what he was doing to me.

He sat next to me then spread my ass cheeks apart. I could feel his eyes studying my butt and focusing on my tight clenched hole.

"So, you and The Bishop never tried anal?"

"Never. The only fingers that have ever been in there are mine and yours."

I knew he was smiling, excited that there was a part of my body that The Bishop had never explored—virgin territory.

I reached back and gently massaged my sphincter to loosen it, but he moved my hand away.

Suddenly I felt his tongue meet my anus as he greedily began to tease and taste my forbidden area. The sensation of his tongue gliding over my wrinkled knot made my heart rate increase. I squirmed slightly, but he held me still.

I loved that feeling of being held down.

I wanted him to understand that I was all in on his wishes and pressed my body to his mouth as he kept my ass cheeks open with his hands as he wet and tasted me.

My morning cleaning ritual was thorough and deep. I'd sit on a bidet pushing water deep inside my front and back. When it ran clean, I'd then shower, soaping and fingering myself. I knew I was spotless back there

I could feel waves of pleasure as he circled and dipped his tongue in and out of my clench. Finally, he sat up.

"Toy time," he said.

I rolled over and looked up at him.

"Kiss me," I begged.

He gave me a look that said, You know where I just was.

"Kiss me," I demanded.

He lowered his face to mine, and our tongues explored. I always loved tasting myself on his face after he explored my pussy, this was no different.

His kisses tasted tangy, with an essence of soil after a rain, rich and organic with a hint of burnt toast.

Our kiss ended and I returned to lying face down while he went to the side table where he kept all my toys.

The next sensation was his finger, cold and slathered in cherry lube, as he pressed it to my dark hole. After a few circles of my anus, he plunged his finger in a single move. I reacted by kicking my leg out and making a gentle cry of surprise.

He grasped my leg and held it as he moved his finger gently inside my bowel, tickling me from within. He pulled his finger out, and I had a momentary feeling of loss. There was no time to linger as I felt the cold metal of the smaller butt plug now pushing on my clench.

"Slow," I pleaded.

He obeyed, pushing ever so gently against my sealed hole. He pushed again, still my muscles resisted instinctively, knowing nothing should be coming in from that direction.

Another push, and I felt pleasure overtake pain as my sphincter began to surrender and stretch open.

God, if this was the smallest of the three plugs, there was no way I could accommodate anything larger, and that included Ethan's cock.

I made an unladylike grunt as he pushed, and let myself relax.

He pushed again, and this time I felt the sphincter muscles relent, allowing the egg-shaped tool to slide past my max width.

I couldn't see it, but I could feel my tight hole being held open wide. I could probably push it out or it at this point.

I contracted my core, and my muscles quickly pulled it inside me. My sphincter snapped shut like a mousetrap leaving only the jeweled end of the plug outside my body.

"Oh my God," he exclaimed. "That was incredible."

The egg-shaped toy was in my dark canal, just resting there, feeling like a balloon as it pushed on my muscles, demanding they relax.

I brought my hand back to the jeweled handle to feel its snugness. If I wanted this thing out of me, I'd have to push it out.

Ethan crawled next to me keeping his hand on my ass, gently massaging my cheeks. We rolled to our sides, so we were facing each other and resumed our kissing.

The feeling of fullness was different, making our gentle touch more intimate.

I felt an exciting rush and realized my breasts were lactating. No doubt, the new sensation had caused a letdown.

I pushed Ethan's head down to my nipples, knowing he loved to feed on me when I allowed it.

Rolling on top of him, my breasts swayed over his face. He moved gently from nipple to nipple. Far below I could feel him gently massaging his cock.

I was ready to turn over and allow him to continue training my ass for his cock when he surprised me by driving his penis into my pussy from below.

Unprepared for his entry, I let out a gasp. His thickness was compounded by the toy in my ass, filling me in an instant. Having never felt this feeling of fullness and intense pressure; I let out a loud groan.

I opened my legs, allowing him in me deeper which seemed to amplify the pleasure. Ethan was making deep groans which told me my pussy must have been gripping him like a vice. At this rate he would cum soon.

I moaned loudly, as I often do at Ethan's house. I needed to let my husband know that the level of pleasure he was providing me was unlike anything I had ever felt.

As he began to increase his rhythm, we were both on our way to orgasm. Our bodies slapped together, and I could hear a faint wet sound, like a gentle "plat, plat, plat".

That toy in my ass changed my physiology, and I soon realized the wet noises were coming from me. Each thrust and pulled, was met with the noises of air rushing in and of my saturated and strained labia. That sound was me as my vagina trapped and released air.

I knew if we stopped and repositioned, I could make the embarrassing sound stop, but I was too close to finishing. The strained nerve endings in my ass, his thick cock pounding my wet folds, stopping now to readjust was out of the question.

My muscles tensed. It was the point of no return.

"Harder," I begged, He complied, heightening the sound he was forcing my pussy to make.

My vision blurred, and the rising orgasm filled my body.

My inner walls began to clench and flutter as my vagina realized the infiltrator was close to delivering his payload. His rich, life-giving semen.

My heavy breasts started to ache as they swung. But at that moment, I accepted the dull ache because my impending orgasm was close.

I felt his strokes growing stronger. We were in sync, and I prayed we would find bliss together. There is nothing more perfect than arriving in unison with your partner, especially one as beautiful and perfect as Ethan.

Suddenly I felt a strange pressure, and realize as my orgasm was sweeping over me, the anal contractions that were so closely associated with my orgasm were pushing the butt plug out.

I let out a loud groan as the plug was expelled from my ass triggering my vaginal orgasm. I had little control over my body and despite an embarrassing sound of from my ass due to trapped air escaping, I came hard. Very hard.

Only as I was on my way down did I notice the feeling of his ejaculation. It was only a few seconds, but it felt longer. I was now being filled with Ethan's semen, causing my elation to roll on and on as I let out a long moan, audibly rewarding my man with gasps and moans.

Ethan stayed connected to me for as long as he could. I could feel residual pulses from his cock as my pussy did its natural job of squeezing every drop of his release. He knew this was my desire and never failed to do as I asked.

We came to a stop, and I looked down at him with a smile.

His cock slid out, and I experienced that momentary feeling of loss when his penis left my vagina, leaving me feeling empty but fulfilled.

Deep within me, I could feel his semen warming my cervix. This was our holy communion, and I remained faithful to God, determined to keep my man's seed inside my vessel.

We lay there breathing hard.

"I thought you wanted to try it the other way," I asked my now spent young man."

"Today was your training day. When you're able to take the large plug, then you'll be ready for me."

That small plug had pushed me to the limit, and I had no idea how I could fit the medium one or the large one, and then Ethan himself.

But that boy did create anticipation.

It was bad enough I could barely wait to get over to his house for our time together, now I had the added layer of wondering when he would take my anal virginity.

CHAPTER 3

THANKS FOR COMING

Bryant arrived at the Barton house holding a tub of potato salad. This type of family backyard event wasn't his preference. Adding to his growing fondness for Mrs. Barton, he wasn't sure how it would feel to mingle with her family in the presence of her husband and his boss, The Bishop.

The door opened, and Bryant was greeted by a blonde-haired young woman with an endless smile. He recognized her, but it had been years.

"Hannah?"

"Bryant," the young woman exclaimed, giving him a warm hug.

This was Hannah, Amanda's oldest daughter.

"Wow, Hannah, I don't think I've seen you since like five years ago."

She took his hand, leading him through the large home.

"Oh God, that was my awkward phase. I wore braces for two years."

Hannah had always been the girl-next-door type, but now she had filled out and was a knockout.

"I've been meaning to stop by and tell you how sad I was about your dad. He was such a nice guy. So sweet."

"Thank you,"

"Every time I want to go over, my mom says no. She said to give you your space."

"Oh, well, your mom really means well. She's been a big help to me this summer."

She guided me to the backyard, where a large gathering of family, friends, and esteemed church members was taking place.

"Are you going on a mission as well?"

"No, just Gideon. I'm heading off to BYU in the fall. I'll do a mission later, maybe my senior year."

"Where are they sending Gideon?"

"Chicago," she then lowered her voice.

"My dad can pull strings, so none of us are going to end up in some shithole country."

"I looked at her, somewhat surprised by her language."

"My dad's words, not mine. Where did you do your mission?"

"I didn't. I kind of stepped away from the church in high school."

"Oh, a Jack Mormon. Be careful! Mom will do her best to bring you back into the fold."

"Oh, she's been trying."

Hanna spotted her mother.

"Mom, look who's here. Bryant!"

"Well, hello, Bryant," she said cordially.

"Hello, Mrs. Barton. Thank you for inviting me. "I feel blessed to be included."

"Hannah, it's almost time for John-John to nurse. Would you be a dear and bring him to the family room?"

"Sure, Mom. Hey Bryant, can I talk to you about law school? I've been thinking about-"

"Hannah go take care of Jonh John. Now!" Mrs. Barton said in a firm tone that resonated with her daughter. She smiled and left.

"So, you came."

"I promised I would. Speaking of promises, did you..."

"If you think I'm going lift my skirt and show what's inside my ass, well, you'll need to trust me."

She was as firm with me as she was with Hannah. I had to remind myself that I wasn't her husband here. Here, I had no authority.

"Hannah sure has grown up. She was telling me about BYU."

She looked at me with a stern face.

"Please don't spend time with Hannah. She has priorities, but right about now, she's a bit boy crazy."

"I was just being polite."

"Oh, I know. But let's not distract her, shall we? Listen, I have to speak with the other wives. Will you be okay on your own?"

I nodded in agreement and watched her leave. I wasn't offended by how she spoke to me; this was her house and family, and I was a potential issue.

Walking around the impressive property, I was greeted by neighbors, some I knew, others I had never seen before. I recalled several of them being friends of my father.

Walking by the pool, I found Gideon, Hannah's brother, who was the reason for the party.

"Gideon, congratulations on the mission. You must be very excited."

Gideon stood up to shake my hand. He was 18 and about to face adulthood directly. I was glad I never went on a mission, but I was also impressed by how much my LDS friends learned about life during theirs.

Gideon's eyes were locked on the pool, and it was easy to see she was distracted by the attractive moms in their bathing suits.

"Hey, Ethan, welcome back home. I'm sorry to hear about your dad. He was such a great guy and even came to all my baseball games."

"Really? I don't think he was at one of my football games. So, Chicago, huh? Not too bad for a mission. No need to learn a new language. Although you might want to brush up on your colloquialisms."

Gideon was confused.

"If someone doesn't want to hear you talk about the Book of Mormon, just grab your balls and say, suck on this." It's like saying thank you in Chicago speak."

Gideon laughed. I knew men his age had issues with the church, and as exciting as it might be to get away from home for a year, he was probably wondering what it was all for.

"Which college are you thinking about? No, wait, let me guess: BYU."

Gideon laughed again. The chances of one of the Barton kids attending any school other than BYU were slim.

Hannah approached. It was astonishing to realize how much she resembled her mother. I didn't want to sexualize her, but she was 18, and in the Mormon faith, some girls her age have two children by this point.

"The Bishop was asking for you."

It always amazed me that the Bartons referred to him as The Bishop, rather than dad or father.

"Me? Why?"

"He didn't say. Hey, do you know the Kristensons? The two oldest sons?"

"Buck and Hank, yeah. Buck was my year."

"Could you introduce me to him? I know him kinda from the temple, but you and he were friends."

"Of course. If that's what you want. Buck's a little wild, though."

"Hey, I can be wild too," she fired back with a devilish grin.

Naturally, that would be the moment Amanda would walk up.

"Excuse me, young lady," her mother glared.

Hannah turned beet red.

"I'm wild about skiing, too, Hannah. Too bad I'll be back at school when the mountains get snow."

Hannah smiled, appreciative of my giving cover to her story. She left, leaving me with Mrs. Barton.

"What did I tell you about talking to Hannah?"

"She was talking to me, " I said defensively. "Look, this isn't a good idea. I'm going to leave, ok?"

Mrs. Barton looked at me and I could see she felt bad.

"I'm sorry. I've been rude to you. It's just that I'm under all this pressure, and I've got you and The Bishop, and then I have to wrangle all my kids. I took a Xanax and I'm waiting for it to kick in."

"Hey, you're truly incredible. I mean, really incredible. I just don't understand how you do it."

"It's because I care too much. I like to please people.

"Well, you sure know how to please me."

I then tensed up and looked around to ensure no one heard that comment.

She gently touched my arm and gave it a slow, sensual rub. From her touch, I could tell she wanted to be in our bed in my house.

"I'm going to head out," I whispered.

She looked around and then leaned toward me.

"Follow me."

She started walking toward the car barn, and I followed.

The Bishop had built the car barn to house his collection of cars, cars he felt promoted his masculinity. The barn housed seven vehicles and the family's Gulfstream trailer. I immediately spotted something special: a 1975 green Ford Bronco in mint condition.

"Wow, is this what you wanted to show me? It's great. Look at the condition. This is wonderful."

She leaned on the hood of the vehicle like a car show girl.

"Want to see something even better?" She asked.

She didn't wait for me to respond and turned so she was facing the front of the vehicle. She leaned forward, and her skirt hiked up slightly, but not enough to reveal anything. Reaching back and she flipped it up revealing her soft white ass.

"You wore the red lingerie," I said with a smile.

"That's not all," she replied as she put her thumbs in the bands of her panties and pulled them down to reveal her bare ass punctuated by the bedazzled handle of the butt plug sticking out of her clench.

I stood there in awe of this woman.

"All day. Just for you," she purred.

She tipped further forward and pushed from her core; her anus dilated slightly revealing some of the gold toy. She then relaxed, and her tight ring sealed around the stem, keeping the toy where the sun doesn't shine.

"Oh my God. How does it feel?"

"Full, I feel wonderful, but full. It's the big one. I had a spontaneous orgasm about an hour ago. I was sitting there, and it hit me when I was talking to Sara Carlton. She asked if I was ok."

"You're better than ok. You're amazing."

I knew it was time to leave. I also knew that what we were doing was against our own rules, but she remained bent over the Bronco with her white ass glowing, punctuated by the jeweled handled of the butt plug and below that a drop of dew forming on her backpussy. I had been in her snatch so many times with fingers, my face and my cock, yet at this moment I want her more than ever.

"Make it fast," she whispered.

Game fucking on!

I had my cock in hand in seconds. It felt bigger than ever. But then again, I'd never had an LDS mom lying on the hood of her husband's car, in his garage, beckoning me to take her from behind.

My cock was coated with her wetness the moment I pressed it against her slit. I slid in fast and deep. The sensation of my cock and her stuffed rectum was overwhelming, and she let out a whispering groan. I set a rapid pace, and she responded with gentle signs of pleasure each time I thrust inward. Her wetness increased and her pussy made loud slurps as it swallowed my cock.

My eyes were locked on her stretched hole, which fought to retain the toy. She put her hands back, grasping her ass cheeks pulling them wide to give me an incredible view of my cock entering her pussy clean and coming out of her coated in glistening wetness.

I decided to change things up, then pulled my cock out, dropped to my knees and planted my face in her back pussy to let my tongue give my cock a short break.

"We don't have time for you to-"

She never finished her sentence my tongue darted across her dangling clit.

"Oh, that motherfucking tongue of yours."

I needed to get my cock back inside her because she was talking up a filthy storm and it would probably only take one more "motherfucker" for me to blow my lode.

I stood and pushed my cock in hard and fast, surprising her. Her body reacted, her core responded as I began to pump her pussy. In our heightened state and the relaxation brought on by her Xanex, we were both unaware her asshole was giving birth to the butt plug.

I glanced down to see the egg-shaped toy pop out, followed by a rush of lube and her anus snapping shut.

I vaguely remember it hitting the ground with a metallic clang, but she and I were now reaching our plateaus, and neither of us wanted to stop.

Her empty browneye opened and closed with each push and pull and when I felt her body shake with pleasure, I unleashed a healthy flow of cum deep within her.

She moaned in pleasure as she felt herself being filled, and it was in that moment of bliss we both forgot about the plug that had rolled under the Bronco.

You could smell our lust in the air as we slumped forward onto the dusty truck. She was pressed against the hood, and I was pressed against her back as we tried to catch our breath.

In the distance, I heard something topple over. I'm not sure of what, but the sound brought us to. She turned, putting a finger over her pursed lips, shushing me.

She quickly pulled up her panties and flipped he dress down, and I pulled up my shorts and straightened up.

She guided me away from the area, walked me to the driveway, ensured no one was around, and gave me a deep kiss.

"I have to get back," she said, "but thanks for coming."

I wasn't sure if she was making a pun.

"My pleasure," I replied.

"Hey, the plug. It fell under the car," I reminded her.

"I'll get it, you go."

She gave me a deep kiss, the kind that's hard to break and could easily turn into another session. She then broke off and gave a wink.

I walked through the bushes into my yard. We had broken our rules about sex outside the nonkosher kitchen, and nothing had gone wrong. Maybe some rules were made to be broken.

CHAPTER 4

NOTHING GONE WRONG

As I kissed Ethan, I could feel his semen gently flowing from my vagina, saturating the red fabric of his favorite panties. The warm fluid turned cold against the breeze coming up my skirt.

When we were out of the garage and out of sight, I put my hand in his and left him with a kiss that promised so much more.

I gave him a little shove and watched his ass as he left. Our liaison in the garage was unexpected, but was it really?

I had taunted him with the sex toy. I could pretend what happened was spontaneous, but deep down, I wanted him to take me amid The Bishop's favorite things. I wanted him to know he could have me anytime, anywhere.

When I entered into this agreement, it was about sex, but things were changing rapidly. Now it was about my desire to be with Ethan as much as possible.

We had broken our rules about sex outside the nonkosher kitchen, and nothing went wrong. Maybe some rules are made to be broken.

I'd need to change my panties or risk his cum dripping down my legs. But first I needed to retrieve the butt plug. I returned to the exact spot. I could see the dust on the hood of the truck been wiped clean.

I bent over to look under the car and heard a familiar voice,

"Mom, we need to talk."

I turned to see Gideon holding the gold butt plug that I had ejected from my ass.

A cold trickle of Ethan's thick cum slid down my leg.

CHAPTER 5

FUCKIN' GIDEON

It was nice to sleep in on Sunday. I knew Mrs. Barton wouldn't show up until after church. She usually made sure her kids had lunch and then came here to prepare a meal for me.

We ate, screwed and then she left, returning home before The Bishop returned from the Temple.

There was something I learned to love about Sundays. A kink I didn't know I had until our first Sunday together.

Her daily routine was no different on Sundays, rise early, poop, shower and be perfect before the rest of the family was awake.

Sunday mornings meant getting everyone fed and out the door for church. It meant dressing nicely, and that included wearing her church undergarments.

While The Bishop was often indifferent to her wearing the church garments on the daily, he was insistent that they be worn on Sundays and would inspect her before leaving for church. She had come to mention that the inspections were humiliating, but she obeyed, nonetheless.

On Sundays, despite being fresh and showered in the morning, she would come to me after spending several hours in a hot church wearing her thick polyester undergarments. The church was hot; the service was long. Her pussy, shrouded in religious garb that did not breathe, ripened with pheromones and alkie as thoughts of how she and I would please each other later in the day.

We jokingly called it her Sabbath savor, and if I had my choice, I'd ask her to wear the garments more often so it could feel like Sunday every day of the week. Her smell and taste on Sundays were never offensive, in fact, just the opposite. It became an aphrodisiac, something I could not resist.

If there was ever a question of the power of the Sabbath Savor, it was answered the day after Gideon's goodbye luncheon.

I heard the door open. She was early. Maybe she got the kids some takeout. Since it was 11:00 a. m., I decided to get up and shower before our session.

She walked into my bedroom wearing her conservative Sunday clothing. I knew that beneath that dress, she had on the least sexy outfit imaginable: thick polyester panties and a top - her LDS garments. And she had been sweating for hours.

"Time to do some motherfucking," I said jokingly.

I then noticed the stern look on her face and how she was shushing me. She came over to me and pulled me into the bathroom.

"My son is downstairs, so perhaps ease up on the motherfucker stuff."

I froze as I processed her words.

"What the fuck is he doing here? Which son?"

"Gideon."

"Why would you bring him here?"

"He saw us."

"Saw us? Where?"

"When you bent me over my husband's car and fucked me."

My head was spinning as I tried to process what she revealed.

"He watched us... he watched you get-"

She nodded yes.

I was experiencing an out-of-body moment. This couldn't be real. Closing my eyes, I hoped it was just a dream. A terrible dream. But it was happening.

She moved in close and spoke quietly.

"He's eighteen, he's full of hormones and about to go off on his mission. He made it clear to me that he'll keep our little indiscretion a secret."

"A secret?" I asked with a hopefully. "He won't tell The Bishop?"

"There's an if."

"He won't tell The Bishop if...?"

"If we allow him to watch us have sex."

"Jesus Fucking Christ!"

"Would you please check your tongue? This is the Lord's Day, so there will be no blasphemy."

"No blasphemy? As if that's the most heinous thing we're discussing. What about the no adultery part?"

"In this house, you're my husband, so I don't consider it adultery. I want us to show my son how passionate people to make love."

"This is nuts. If he tells The Bishop, we're both fucked. And not in the good way."

"He won't tell The Bishop. All we need to do is make love, he watches, and then he's off on his mission for two years."

Fuckin' Gideon.

That little shit had negotiated himself a hell of a strange deal. He gets to watch his mother have sex, something he could hold over her head for the rest of her life.

Of course, since he would be on his mission for two years, I'd be long gone when he returned. By then, I'd have sold my dad's house and be the hell out of Utah. The emotional fallout wasn't going to be on me.

It's funny how thoughts work. Here I was contemplating a crisis, and a positive spin where I no longer lived here, and the Bartons were a distant memory, I grew sad. I looked at Mandy and realized that I didn't want to be apart from her. Even after this mess we were currently in.

But that was a problem for a different day.

I sat on the bed and rubbed my head, trying to stave off the growing headache.

"Okay, all right, so how do we do this? It's like a cuck thing, I guess. He sits and watches. Do we pretend like he's not there? This isn't a three-way thing, is it? You're not inviting him in, are you?"             

"Despite all the complexities of the situation, he's my son, and he'll remain at a respectable distance from us. He can watch; he cannot talk."

"Good, because the fastest way to lose an erection is to have a conversation with the son of the woman you're fucking while you're fucking her. And to be clear, you're not inviting him in?"

I saw anger in her face for the first time ever. It was hard to believe there was a line with her that I could cross, but I just did.

"I realize my moral line is different from most women, but no, my son is never invited to my bed."

"Why not just tell him no? Is this some kind of blackmail?"

She sat on the bed to unpack the situation.

"Did you know he's engaged to be married? The day he returns from his mission in two years. Christa Martin, she's 17 now, but they'll be sealed in the Temple when she's 19."

I was unsure where she was going with this.

"Umm, congratulations for them?"

"That night, he'll take her to their marital bed and make love to her for the first time."

"And this affects me how?"

"If he's an inadequate lover, it'll doom their relationship."

"Is that what happened to you and The Bishop?"

She shook her head no.

"The Bishop learned by watching his parents make love. When he was 18 and could make his own choices, they allowed him to watch. When he took my virginity, it was transcendental."

I could feel pangs of jealousy at the mere mention of another man making love to her.

"It's important to me that Gideon become an adequate lover for his wife."

"So, you agreed to let him watch us? I've got news for you, what we've been doing is not normal."

"He needs to observe a loving relationship between a husband and wife."

"Then he should watch you and The Bishop."

She put her head down, upset that she could not convince me.

"He needs to understand how to bring pleasure to a woman. He has no knowledge of this. He'll watch us and learn."

"There is porn for that."

"Porn is not a husband and wife making love for procreation, expressing love, and strengthening their emotional and spiritual bonds."

"We do none of that," I replied. "We fuck. A lot."

"Are you telling me you don't feel an emotional bond between us? You call me your wife. I call you husband."

The truth is, I felt a tremendous emotional bond with her. I loved having her with me and hated it when she went back to The Bishop.

I often imagined The Bishop next to her in bed and reveled in the thought that my semen was inside her in his presence. It gave me an alpha feeling.

She was waiting to see how I would respond to her question about our emotional bond.

"Look," I said, "you know I care about you. You know, I think about you day and night."

"Then tell me now if you think we have an emotional bond."

She was outstanding at getting me to do her bidding or say what she needed to hear.

"Yes, we have an emotional bond," I confessed.

"Very good. That wasn't too hard to say, was it?"

I wanted to express much more. I wasn't even sure what an emotional bond was. What I felt for her had to be love, but this wasn't the time to mention that word.

I thought I had the high ground, but as she stepped toward me and embraced me with a gentle kiss, we both knew I would do anything she asked. Anything.

I wondered if I could perform in front of another man. I knew he was a virgin, so anything I did would be inspiring.

"You do this, and I'll reward you."

"How?" With what?"

She quickly reached down my pants and grasped my cock.

"Anything you desire."

What I desired was her, all day and all night. To have and to hold until death do us part. I desired The Bishop to die. Not a desire I could say out loud.

I looked into her eyes, and she into mine. Our heads moved together into a gentle kiss. She gently started to masturbate me. I suppose this was inevitable.

My thickening cock told her everything she needed to know. I was ready, I was willing, and she knew damned well I was able.

"Gideon, get up here," she said in a loud, cold, scolding voice.

After a few minutes, Gideon entered the room, still wearing his church clothes. He was nervous, which made the situation even more awkward.

"Hey Ethan..."

Mrs. Barton was holding me with her hand down my underwear as I gave him a dismissive look. I wasn't in the mood to converse.

He quickly took a seat in a chair across the room as his mother continued to masturbate me with her right hand.

"It's just the two of us," she said as we looked into each other's eyes. "A husband and wife, making love on the Sabbath, as they should."

The Sabbath. It was Sunday, and it reminded me of what was beneath her clothing.

She stepped back and began to unbutton her dress slowly from the top down. With each button, she revealed more and more of her bland white LDS undergarments.

Having seen her in every variety of lingerie, this was always my favorite sight.

Symbolically, it represented her adherence to the faith, but to me, it was the opposite; it symbolized her fallen faith, a good LDS woman submitting to a sinner like me.

She finished unbuttoning the dress and let it fall away. We stood facing each other, me in my boxer briefs, she in her garments, and Gideon watching our every move.

We were three feet apart, and I could smell her Sabbath savor. It was an intoxicating elixir that summoned me. No doubt, she had been anxious all morning, thinking about her situation and the risks. I took a deep breath and could practically taste her.

I wanted to tear off the garments off and fuck her hard, but she wanted passion in this session, so I let her lead. She came to me and we were body to body. I put my face down by her neck, trying to get close to her armpits. Using two hands, she pulled my underwear down, revealing my throbbing erection.

I scooped her up in my arms, carrying her to our bed.

We were on our knees on the bed facing each other as she held her arms up and I gently pulled her white top over her head, exposing her large breasts, which bounced down nicely.

I was momentarily distracted by Gideon, who leaned in to get a better look at his mother's breasts.

Mrs. Barton took my head and guided it to her breasts, where I began to suckle her nipples gently, not enough to make her lactate. Gideon didn't need to see that level of intimacy. She gently stroked my head.

She returned her hand to my cock, gently masturbating me, slow and steady so I didn't come prematurely.

Finally, I lay her on the pillow. She raised her midsection, and I pulled the white bottoms of her garments down. The strong smell of her excitement filled my senses.

Despite the fucked-up situation, she could not mask her desire for me and on any given Sunday, driven by her enticing musk, I'd ravage her to both our delights. But today, I needed to be reserved.

We had not discussed what she was willing to do in front of Gideon or what she would allow to be done to her, so I let her continue to take the lead. She would set the limits, and I'd obey.

She grasped my cock and guided it between her legs. This was to be straight intercourse, no foreplay, no teasing. She positioned me against her vagina, then moved her hands, giving me the authority to enter her, then gently tapped my ass, indicating I should push in.

My cock sank into her pussy, but the feeling was off. Normally, she was soaked, so wet the sheets needed changing, but not today. It was apparent she was self-conscious. She was showing Gideon how a good Mormon wife has sex. Obedient. Reserved. But what she wasn't showing Gideon was how a good wife has good sex.

I began a rising and falling rhythm, pushing in and pulling out, doing my best to escalate the feeling.

"What's wrong?" I whispered, knowing this entire situation was wrong; it was her idea, and it was failing.

"Nothing, just keep at it," she replied.

I could tell she wasn't in the moment. The distraction of Gideon was too much.

I pumped her a few more times, then stopped, pulled out, and lay next to her, gently stroking my cock. She looked at me, confused.

"Suck my cock," I demanded.

When she didn't move, I repeated it, louder.

"Suck my cock."

Instead, she reached down to masturbate me.

"Gideon, tell your mother to suck my cock."

Mandy froze, and Gideon looked like a deer in headlights.

"I was told to sit here and be quiet," he replied, unsure why he was being addressed.

"Tell your mother to suck my cock." I said again with the authority of being the man of this house. Which I was.

Mandy looked at me and Gideon, confused.

"Suck his cock..." Gideon said weakly.

"Tell her to suck. My. Cock."

"Suck his cock," Gideon said empowered by my permission to speak and his desire to see her do what I asked.

She bit her lip and looked down at my throbbing member. Enough of the vanilla sex, if we were going to do this right, it was time to reset the table.

She moved her head down gently taking my firm penis in her mouth. Sucking on it gently she ran her tongue along the shaft savoring my taste and enjoying the rough texture.

I could feel myself thickening her mouth. She began to make muddled moans against my shaft, a small indicator she was losing herself in the action.

With each lick she grew bolder, gently circling the cap with her tongue, then down again. A few licks just below my balls then back up and took my entire length in her mouth and throat, then up and out using her tongue to trace a path to my heavy balls.

"That's a good girl," I said as she made hungry noises with her mouth.

"Tell her she's doing a good job, Gideon."

"Keep going, you're doing a good job," he replied, his eyes locked on her actions.

"How much of it can she get in her mouth?" he asked out of nowhere.

Mrs. Barton didn't answer as she stopped licking and then positioned her mouth and slowly took me in inch by inch. She relaxed her throat and let the final inches pass until her lips were at my hilt.

I looked at Gideon with pride.

"All of it."

She remained there for a few moments, but I could feel her starting to gag and tapped her head, allowing her to come up for air.

The room was heating up, and the smell of her Sabbath savor was getting to me.

"Tell her I want to taste her pussy."

"He wants to taste you," Gideon instructed his mother.

She was obedient, as she always promised to be in my bed and she turned her body, so she was above my face with her pussy. The classic 69.

She kept sucking my cock as she positioned her ass before me, her perfect back pussy was waiting as I buried my face in her folds immediately going to work on her overly fragment labia as she continued to work my cock with her mouth.

Her ass was hiked up slightly to get me maximum exposure to her pussy. She was faced away from me, mouth on my cock.

Across the room, Gideon was in awe as he watched his mother getting and giving head and loving it.

I sunk my face into her vagina and inhaled its essence. Today, it was particularly strong, and she had created a more earthy essence.

I both inhaled and tasted. It was dark, with musk. She began our session dry, but now she was soaking and the flavors of her ass and pussy met in perfect union, creating a potent elixir that I could not resist. As I began to taste her from hole to hole and places in between, I realized I was enjoying this moment more than I thought possible.

I worked my tongue deeper into her folds. She always reacted to my pleasure; if I groaned, she would moan. If I writhed, she would buckle, and when my cock thickened, her pussy would water.

Knowing Gideon could not see exactly what part of his mother's anatomy I was licking; I gently pulled her ass down so my tongue could circle the tight ring of her clenched anus, which responded by gently dilating. My tongue went in deep, and I could see her pussy clench involuntarily, desperate for friction and confused as to the point of origin of her pleasure.

Mandy's Sabbath Savor had invigorated and emboldened me. Gideon can see vanilla sex anywhere, but here he was seeing a man and woman hell-bent on pleasuring each other to the extreme.

"Up here," I commanded her and she shifted her body taking her ass from my face as it glistening with her leavings.

She crawled back up by body and brought her mouth to mine and began to lick her Sabbath savor off my face and mouth.

She was now atop my body kissing and licking my face as she searched for my cock and brought it between her legs. When she had it in position she moved down and swallowed it with her pussy in a single motion.

She released a long slow groan and then sat up to ride me cowgirl style, enjoying the feeling of my cock pressing on the depth of her pussy.

Her back was to Gideon, and she placed a hand on my chest to stabilize herself. She had lost all self-consciousness and began to groan, letting Gideon know she was being properly pleased.

She was always wet, and this position created a juicy slurping sound that added to the moment. With the sounds, the smell of her Sabbath savor wafted.

I could smell it, she could smell it, and I knew Gideon could smell it. I knew it would do for her what it did for me, and our passion would build. Gideon was in for much more than his imagination could contemplate.

As Mrs. Barton rode me, she began to massage her milk-filled pillow-soft breasts with two hands, then leaned forward, bringing her nipple near my mouth.

She cupped the breast, giving it a squeeze, and then pushed the fat of her breast into my mouth and then out. I reached out with my tongue, desperate for a taste.

She gave her under breast a tactical squeeze, and drops of her milk began to form. As her milk let down, she slowly inserted her lactating breast back into my mouth as I continued to ride her from below.

Slowly riding my cock while she fed me from her thick nipple, we were both heading to a state of bliss.

"This is what a woman will do for a generous lover, Gideon," she said in an instructional voice.

"She will give him everything. She will serve him."

Her pussy was swelling and constricting on my cock. It might have taken her a beat to come to terms with Gideon watching, but now she was performing for him. She was teaching and enticing, and she was showing him how much pleasure could come from the coupling of two well-matched people.

She tipped her head back causing her nipple to break free of my mouth.

"He needs to see your face when you finish," I said to her.

"Turn around."

She was so close to finishing, I feared she might just ignore my command and finish her climax.

I gently tipped her to the side and withdrew my cock. You would think I had already cum from the rush of fluids that followed my withdrawal.

She was covered in a sheen of sweat, only adding to the sultry smell of sex, which clouded the room. She positioned herself over my cock while facing away from me, reverse cowgirl.

Reaching back, she guided my cock back into her waiting pussy, and we resumed our union.

I lay back, head tipped up, looking at her incredible ass as she gently rode my cock up and down. She would lean forward, bringing herself to the tip of my cock and back down the shaft. Her tight ring would open and close, looking like a whistling mouth as she rode me.

She made eye contact with Gideon, who continued to be surprised to be part of this.

She placed her hands on my legs near the kneecaps, which allowed her to do what I'd best describe as a twerk sliding up and down on my rod. I always loved this position because when she would lean forward and let my cock slide out it would shine as her pussy left it glistening with juice.

I placed my hand on her ass working my thumb toward her pouting puckernut. She paused and looked back at me with a smile, my thumb in. her as and my cock bent against her clit, she knew it this race was coming to an end.

She leaned all the way forward and I got a fantastic view of her elastic pussy lips as they gripped my cock. I pressed my thumb on her anus, and she gave me a gentle whimper of pleasure in return.

My strokes were gentle and when my cock was pulling out, her lips created an airtight seat, expanding with my pull, hugging my cock like a turtleneck.

She sat up again, her ass sank into my lap, her pussy swallowed my cock, and she began to grind slowly as we began the last leg of this session, which would end in a loud and wet orgasm.

"Together," I said gently.

Lately, we've been able to sync up our orgasms so we can come together. There is nothing that can explain the intimacy and intensity and a truly mutual orgasm.

"Together," she replied, never taking her gaze off Gideon.

I could feel my orgasm coming. It was moving fast from my extremities toward my core. I could feel hers as well. Over the course of the summer, I had learned to read her body, each twitch and shift. Her muscles were starting to tense; her climax was coming.

If she and I had any apprehension about having sex in front of Gideon, it was long gone. All we could concentrate on at this moment was our mutual orgasm.

She gasped gently, bit her lip, and braced herself as she locked eyes with Gideon.

"Watch closely, baby," she said softly.

I wasn't sure if she was talking to Gideon or myself. Either way, it took me over the edge.

I let out a loud groan as I fired off rope after rope of cum deep inside her. I could feel it coating the walls of her vagina.

Her eyes remained locked on Gideon as my semen searched her insides with instinctive accuracy.

She continued to breathe and ride but finally, we came to an end. She tipped her head down catching her breath then gently lifted her leg to dismount me.

My cum dripped hot from her folds landing on my torso. As my penis was set free, her vagina produced a slurping sound, creating another rush of cum, backflowing to my torso.

She turned and crawled back to my side, snuggling in under my arm and we held each other as we loved to do after climax.

She looked at Gideon with a stern look. Her demeanor changed from vixen to taciturn.

"You've seen what you wanted to see, now go."

It was apparent he had a raging erection.

"There's a bathroom down the hall," I added. "Take care of that before going home."

Gideon stood to leave, turning to catch one last view of us, naked, spent and in each other arms, then left to go down the hall and finish himself off.

"We've given him enough masturbation images for a lifetime."

Mandy was silent.

"What's wrong? Did you enjoy that?"

"I did. Maybe more than I should, it was incredible. When you took command, when you made him give me orders, it was, strange and I just let go. I wanted to please you both."

I didn't want to discuss her maternal needs to please her son or her desire to please her spouse, but these were hallmarks of who she was and were no surprise to me.

"Can we trust him? Will he tell The Bishop?"

"No, he will always obey me."

Having sex in front of Gideon didn't turn out as either of us thought. Deep down, in that place where you think about things that you can't say out loud, I realized how much I enjoyed it.

It gave me a sense of dominance, with Gideon observing as an alpha male mated with his mother. Secretly, I wished it were The Bishop who had to watch us. I had been pleasing his wife all summer, and he should have been forced to witness the virility I provided, something he could not.

I wondered if she felt the same. Judging how she blossomed sexually with Gideon watching, I assumed she did.

CHAPTER 6

THIS THING WE'RE DOING

I didn't see Mrs. Barton for three days because I was way behind on my work. Besides, I needed some time to process last Sunday's events.

On Thursday, I woke up to the smell of coffee. She was back.

There she was in the kitchen, sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee. She was wearing a robe and slippers that she kept in the closet. To better play wife, she dressed as if she lived here.

"I made you coffee," she said as I sat.

"Sorry, I didn't come the last few days. It was a crazy couple of days. I had to take Gideon for shots; there was paperwork, and then we had a family dinner before we dropped him at the airport."

"He needed shots to do his mission in Chicago?"

"There was a last-minute change in his mission. He'll be in Ghana for two years."

"Ghana? He changed his mind about Chicago?"

"No, The Bishop did. He felt Gideon needed some life lessons, so Ghana is the best place. Challenges build a better man."

"You're okay with that? Ghana?"

"There are things only a father knows. Decisions only a father can make. Someday, you'll understand that. It's all part of God's plan."

The Bishop had unknowingly made our lives easier. With only a few weeks left in the summer, the one person who could expose our "relationship" was on a plane to the other side of the world, I felt a burden lifted.

"I told The Bishop I needed some "me" time, so he took the family to St. George for the day."

"Me time?"

"Well, "Ethan" time didn't seem appropriate, so I went with "me" time."

She casually opened her robe to reveal her heavy left breast. She played it coy, revealing a glance of her areola, just enough to ensure she had my attention.

"Would you like some 'me' time?"

With that she opened her robe to further reveal the left side of her body from her breasts to her vagina to her bare leg. She stood there like some half-wrapped gift.

I focused on her heavy breast as I moved to her, wrapping my arms around her, happy to have her back. She lifted her neck, and I went in kissing and feeling her soft skin.

She let out a gentle moan, an almost inaudible signal that she had desperately missed this feeling. It had only been three days, but it felt like forever.

I held her face, and she touched my waist as we kissed. Usually, we would already be on the bed, but I was in no rush, not wanting this time with her to go by too fast. My hands moved to her arms, and she gently shed the robe, leaving her naked and me clothed.

She pulled my t-shirt up over my head and brought her flesh to mine. Her breast pressed against my body, and I could feel her nipples pushing into my flesh.

My head moved to her breasts as I had the urge to feast on her, but she gently guided me away from her nipples.

"I'm weaning John-John. It's time for him to take the bottle."

"His loss," I said with a grin and again moved to her breasts to suckle her.

"Sorry, yours too. I'm closing the dairy, so no suckling for a few days. I don't want you confusing my body."

I realized that John-John's loss was mine as well. She had gotten me hooked on her lactation, but now it was being taken away from me.

"Are you pouting?" she asked.

I totally was. Since she first tempted me with her milk, I was addicted to that pleasure. So, yeah, I was disappointed.

"I have to warn you, when I'm not lactating, I can get pretty horny."

I laughed, but then realized she wasn't joking. We had sex several times a week, sometimes multiple times a day. And suddenly, there was a chance she might become more aroused? I wasn't about to question that challenge; I'd only accept it.

"So, no tits for you, but I'm sure I can make it up to you."

She slid her hand down to my shorts and grasped by cock then began stroking it.

"There he is," she whispered as she peeled away the last of my clothing, leaving us both naked and wanting in the kitchen.

She reached into her bag and took out a bottle of skin lotion, then led me by the hand up the stairs.

Instead of going into my father's bedroom, with its king bed, she led me down the hall to my old bedroom.

I followed obediently.

The room still looked as it did seven years ago when I was a high school senior. Once I left home, the room became a time capsule.

She guided me to my bed, had me sit, then walked across the room to look out the window.

"You have a clear view of my house from here."

"Do I? I never noticed."

She turned and looked at me with an all-knowing smile.

"You never noticed?"

She turned back to look at her house, reached over to my desk, took my binoculars, and looked again.

"Never noticed you could see into my bedroom. My bathroom too?"

"Well, I might have noticed..."

She turned and smiled at me.

"And there it is... the truth. Did you ever see me naked?"

She must've known, or she would not be playing this game. I promised never to lie to her, so I simply nodded.

"Why did you watch me?"

"I was a teenager. I just wanted to see a naked woman."

"And did you masturbate while you watched me?"

I was turning beet red.

"Did you?"

"Yes. Sometimes."

"Show me."

I was confused, but she took me by the hand and positioned me in the center of the room, looking at the window.

She then slathered lotion on my cock then put my hand on it and prompted me to masturbate myself gently.

Then she backed up to the window and stood there nude, not looking at me, but gazing into the distance. She took the bottle of lotion and began to massage it into her skin as if she had just stepped out of the shower. Ignoring my presence, she pretended she was in her home while I watched her as I had years ago.

Watching her now was just like watching her then. I hadn't masturbated to watching her just a few times; it was often. If her bedroom light came on, I was at my window, binoculars in hand, desperate to see a glimpse of skin or better.

She gently massaged her breasts, gently oiling each one, softly kneading it, then turned bent forward slightly then massaged her ass, gently pushing the buttery lotion across her pale skin. She never looked at me except for a moment when she gave me a nod, urging me to masturbate harder.

I responded with longer strokes. The thick creamy lotion squished between my fingers. She finished lotioning her ass then turned again looking in the distance in a dreamy way as her hand drifted down her stomach and her fingers found her wet folds then her pronounced clit and began gently circling it.

I was transported back to when I had seen her masturbate, remembering how incredible it was that she chose that spot to do something so intimate.

Standing just a few feet from me, I could see her lost in concentration, as she gently teased her clit, even bending her knees slightly so she could finger herself better.

She was in a different place in her mind. Not here, but in her bathroom, the only place in her crowded house with any privacy, She brought both hands to her vagina using both index fingers to caress her clit as the rest of her fingers held her plentiful pussy lips wide. I had seen this same routine so many years ago.

Her eyes were closed as she tipped her head down, her fingers moving faster. She jerked occasionally with jolts of self-induced shock and pleasure and was well on her way to an orgasm, so I increased my cadence.

She moved her hand circularly, bending her knees to get her fingers in deeper. Her heavy breasts swung and bounced. Her face was a mixture of concentration and pleasure.

There was a pleasant odor she created whenever she was cumming, earthly like sandalwood. It was a mixture of her sweat, wetness, and pheromones. When I was inside her, I smelled it when we were done. If I was going down on her, it often foreshadowed her orgasm. Here it was again.

She bent forward, fingers going faster. Her knees trembled slightly, and she looked ready to fall over. She steadied herself with her left hand on the desk, then brought it back to join her other hand.

She let out unladylike sounds, like a bark. She had begun this act as pure theater, performing for an audience of one, but now she was close to her climax, and like an actual act of masturbation, it was all about her.

I had only seen masturbation in porn and through my binoculars. The porn actresses never quite duplicated what I had seen in real life: sweating, wetness, moans, something much more animal than beautiful.

She grabbed the desk with her left hand, and I knew she was coming. Her pussy began to flush out its moisture. Her frantic fingers were working her liquids to a froth. Wetness running down her thigh. Then it hit. She buckled down. Froze for a beat, held her breath. Then followed with rapid breaths and confusion.

I'd have gone to her to hold up, but I was the voyeur in the scenario. I was the watcher. I stroked my cock vigorously. Years ago, I'd watch her from this spot and let my cum hit the window and splatter.

Mandy staggered forward toward my bed. I could tell she was in the midst of her orgasm. She flopped face down, feet on the floor, ass up then grasped her ass cheeks pulling them open revealing her perfect pink asshole and her swollen backpussy. Her slit was covered in her frothed pussy juices making it look like someone had spat on her. She writhed as she held herself open.

"Inside me.... Inside," she begged.

I knew what she wanted. She had her rule. Laying there, looking like a hot mess, a rutting animal, and I couldn't have been more aroused. While she was always so elegant, in this moment, bent over the bed, spreading her ass so I could find her pussy, she looked desperate... and that was turning me on. The woman was begging for my seed, humiliating herself like a cocksleeve.

I had four feet to cover to get to her, but being turned on as I was, I could feel my load swelling and seeking exit. I fumbled forward and got my cock in between her ass cheeks pressing on her anus, she tipped up, causing my cock to track down to her massively swollen labia.

At that point I simultaneously began to cum and sink into her swollen pussy. My cock was positioned perfectly, and the fatness of her walls created a pleasant friction is I entered.

I could visualize my sperm splashing on her cervix. Washing its way into the nooks of her pussy, painting her with the thick white batter. My first volley was violent, and she reacted with an unladylike grunt. But then again, there was nothing ladylike here. She was presenting herself like cattle, and I was riding her like a breeding bull.

Finally, we were done. I stayed inside her as long as I could until my cock gently eased out. Free from me, she crawled onto the bed and collapsed. I joined her, my wet cock laying on her thigh, the remnants of my cum leaking from her swollen labia.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?"

"Spying on you way back then."

"I could have closed the blinds," she whispered. "I chose not to."

It dawned on me that this thing we were doing had started a long time ago.

It was only 9 AM as we both fell asleep, exhausted from what would be a day spent in each other's arms and each other's bodies.

CHAPTER 7

THE COSTCO RUN

We reached the middle of the summer, and I began thinking about my return to school. With just a year left until my law degree, I suddenly felt unmotivated to return.

Our experience in front of Gideon continued to resonate as we both felt emboldened to try new things. Nothing risky. Just deeper exploration.

It was mid-afternoon, Mandy and I had finished having sex and lay in my bed looking at the ceiling, our bodies glistening in the post-coital glow. Mandy turned to me.

"So, I heard some great gossip at book club last night."

"Was it about the LDS mom who's banging the kid next door?"

"Ha, they wish. No, it's about Kristi Haskett. You know her, big tits. Fakes, by the way. So, it turns out she pegs her husband. They're totally peggers."

"Really?"

"I'd never have pegged them as peggers," she said, laughing at her own joke.

I looked at her quizzically,

"You don't know what pegging is, do you?"

She smiled, knowing I had busted her.

"No idea. None."

"Just Google it."

"I can't. The Bishop's nanny program won't let me see the result. Believe me, I tried, and all I got were pegs to put on the wall to hold a coat. Is that part of it?"

"No, not even close."

She rolled over and gave me a playful punch.

"Tell me."

I shook my head no, enjoying this moment with her.

"Tell me!"

Again, I shook my head no. She rolled on top of me, so she was looking down at me, her breasts hanging just above my mouth.

Take a good look, because if you don't tell me, that'll be the last time you see these for a while.

I knew she was teasing and pulled her close to me.

"Okay, alright. So, pegging is when the woman wears a strap on dildo and then she... she fucks the guy".

"In his ass?" she said with legitimate surprise.

"That's pretty much the only hole he has to offer."

She rolled off me and looked at the ceiling. I know she was imagining her friend Kristi wearing a dildo and fucking her husband Earl from behind.

"That's wild. And he likes it?"

"He? Well, I guess so."

But it goes against the reasons for having sex."

"The reasons for having sex? Isn't it about pleasure?"

"We'll of course, but a man's seed, it belongs in the vagina."

"That again. Well, in this case, there is no seed, it's just a plastic dick in Mr. Haskett's ass."

"Do you want to try it?"

Finally, this conversation was going in a direction I liked. But I had to play it off just a little.

"Me? I never thought about it."

She looked at me, peering right through me, then took my phone, opened my Amazon app, and typed in "strap on dildo".

"Holy cow, there are so many to choose from. Look at all these."

She showed me the screen, with all sizes, shapes and colors.

Pulling back the sheets, she looked at my cock which was slightly thicker than my normal flaccid state, still having an excess of blood from our recent session.

I think you're about seven inches when you're erect. Is that right?

"Seven and a half, I mean, maybe seven and a half. I never measured."

Again, she looked at me with her all-knowing smile.

"You never measured that beautiful cock? Right. I want this to feel the same in you as it would in me."

I panicked a little. Something of this size in me, I wasn't sure.

"Wait," I cried out.

"Too late. It'll be here tomorrow. Let's see, I've got Garden Society at noon, then Costco. Oh, that takes forever. You should see our Costco haul. Fills the suburban. Not my favorite thing to do."

"I'll join. I'll help you at Costco."

She looked at me quizzically.

"It's Costco, I don't know what you think we can do to each other in a Costco-"

"No, I just want to help. You said it's a lot of work. I'm off tomorrow. I can help. Let me help."

She considered it.

"Well, I don't suppose it would be too odd for my husband's intern to be helping me at Costco."

"I want to help."

"Ok, fine. I'll be out front at noon. Don't keep me waiting. I have a crammed schedule."

"It's a date. We're going on a date to Costco."

"It's not a date. It's Costco."

I made a cute pouty frowny face.

"Fine. It's a date to Costco. You can buy me a hot dog. But believe me when I say, this is shopping only. No hanky panky."

"I have no problem doing normal things with you. I'm really excited about this."

She could see that I was sincere and smiled.

"My God, you're so adorable."

She then went back to her calendar and began to find a time to sodomize me.

"Saturday, Caleb has a soccer tournament all afternoon, and Sunday, oh, I know how much you love Sundays."

Yes, I did, and she could see my eyes light up.

"Tell you what, you come to church with us, we'll take the crew to Sonic for lunch and then home... I'm pretty sure I can be plastic balls deep in your ass by two."

She was so matter of fact about this.

"So, church?"

I didn't want to go to church with her and the family, but there was a certain wicked allure to attending services, knowing I'd be feasting on her later in the day.

"Can't I just wait for you until after church?"

"If you're there with us, I know I'll be sweating just a little more than usual."

She knew my kinks far too well. I couldn't resist her Sunday savor and quickly agreed.

This strange conversation was made even stranger as she was now scheduling me to attend church with her, then the exact time she would sodomize me. Salvation and sin in a single afternoon.

I didn't have to say yes, she knew I'd be there from the reaction of my cock that began to thicken rapidly. She gently stroked it and looked at it.

"You're right, seven and a half inches. Would you be a dear and get the coconut oil and that big butt plug from the bedside table?"

"Now?"

"If I'm going to shove seven inches up your cute bottom tomorrow, it's only fair you should shove your seven and a half inches up mine today."

"You mean...?"

She bit her lip in a sensuous way and rolled over presenting her ass to me.

I move quickly to the side table, my breath quickening.

"You're sure?"

"I've been waiting for you to knock at my back door for a while. That Gideon thing really put a damper on our progress."

We had done just about everything else we could this summer, and now she was offering me her ass. Of course there was a price, my ass in exchange.

I and been fingers deep, I had probed with my tongue, pressed my cock on that pink knot of door and had surrendered to the notion it wasn't going to happen, but now she was granting me entry.

I found the coconut oil and the large butt plug and returned to her. She met me with a gentle kiss.

"Here's what I want you to do. Put that in me. All the way"

She rolled over so she was face down, then took several pillows and shoved them under her tummy, so she was tilted down with her ass up. Relaxing, she and opened her legs, a trickle of my cum leaked from her pussy to my pillow covers.

I approached her gently, smearing the soft coconut oil on her. The room was chilly enough that the oil was semi-solid, the consistency of soft butter. When it contacted her sealed puckernut, her body heat turned it to liquid in an instant. I wiped more on, gently poking into her tight ring with my forefinger. I pushed into the first knuckle and could tell she was receptive to what was to come.

I took the large plug and pushed it against her ass. I was tentative, not wanting to bring any pain.

"You can go harder."

With her permission I pushed again, and her anus dilated, opening a small gape, but that was all I needed and fed the pointed end inside to trap her muscles open.

Another push and her anus widened with remarkable ease. At its widest this butt plug was thicker than my cock so I was confident she could accommodate me.

When her anus was opened to its zenith, the plug was half in and half out, a push could reject it. A pull could accept it.

Her muscles took over, a gentle squeeze and a pull the entire butt plug was swallowed the plug sealing shut with gentle fart sound, leaving only the jeweled handle showing.

"You've been practicing," I whispered.

"I know you want to cum in my ass," she whispered, "do you have condoms?"

"Really? We need condoms?"

"You can cum in my ass inside a condom. But then you have to put the contents into my vagina."

I didn't have to ask why. She had made it perfectly clear all summer where my sperm had to end.

"No, I don't have any."

"Go to my house. Bedside table, right side, under a booklet of evening prayers. There are some there."

"You want me to go to your house for condoms?"

"No one is home. Go now while I let this toy relax my muscles. Hurry."

I sat up and thought about this.

"This is nuts."

"I want this for you," she whispered. "The backdoor is open."

I assumed she meant the backdoor to her house, but either way, I jumped up, threw on some sweats, and hurried out of my house to the bushes separating our two homes.

I looked around; no one was in sight, so I dashed for the back door. It was open. Inside, I hurried up the stairs, searching for the master bedroom.

Once I arrived, I approached the bed, opened the bedside table, and saw a metal liquor flask.

I then realized I was on the wrong side of the bed, so I jumped over to the right side, opened the drawer, shuffled through some religious materials, and found several condoms. I took one, shut the drawer, then opened it again and took two more. Why settle for one and done?

I gazed at the enormous bed and envisioned Mandy in it with The Bishop. That diminished some of the excitement.

But then I noticed her clothes hamper and lifted the top. Several pairs of her LDS garments were calling to me. I grabbed a pair and inhaled that scent that drove me wild. In seconds, I was back on track. I held on to the panties, stuffing them into my pocket to enjoy later, and I sprinted back to my house.

Stashing the garment in a kitchen drawer, I wondered who I had become. Two months ago, if you had told me I'd be having an affair with the woman next door and now be stealing her used underwear, I would have laughed. But that was me now... and I didn't mind at all.

I walked into the bedroom holding the condoms like a trophy.

Mandy was on the bed, on her knees, facing away from me. I think she had been in this position since I left, enjoying the expansion in her rectum.

Her hands were on her thighs just below where her ass cheeks met her legs. She was holding her ass cheeks open wide.

The butt plug handle was glaring at me.

I just stood there as she began to push. Her ass flexed and the butt plug pushed out then quickly retreated back in. She did it again, and again. Each time the plug came further out, widening her tight brown ring with each push.

"Can you push it out, or should I pull it?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Push it out," I said. Goddam I wanted to see this.

She bent forward and placed her hands on her thighs to catch her breath. She resumed pushing, letting out a small moan with each push. From this view I could see her long pussy lips hanging below her, thick from her lust.

She was both putting on a show to please me and training her body to obey her commands, rather than nature's instructions. So, I practiced the virtue of patience.

She gripped her cheeks and gave a strong push, the egg-shaped toy crowned. She gave another push, and it popped out, followed by a small rush of fouled coconut oil that had been trapped inside. There was a little noise, half air, half wetness.

Then her asshole closed and quickly opened again. She flexed her core, and it remained open like a small mouth, fixed to whistle, ready for me to enter.

She had a penchant for doggy style, something I realize other women liked as well. I always felt self-conscious in this position, because it felt so dominant, and I wasn't sure if that was my sexual personality—until this summer when Mandy assured me, she was mine to do with as I wanted. I grew to love the control doggy style gave me over her.

Strangely, she had trained me to be more assertive, to encourage and bring out any dominant traits I had kept buried. So, as she presented her ass to me, I knew it was mine to enjoy... so long as I didn't cum in there.

I quickly unwrapped the condom and rolled it on my cock. It was prelubed, but so was her ass as clear drips of coconut oil dribble down her perineum to her vagina.

I chose to stand, bending my knees to bring my cock to the waiting hole. Her sphincter looked like a large round bullseye against the paleness of her ass. I wasn't sure how long she could keep it open, so I grasped my cock and pushed the thick cap past the open barrier.

She groaned with pleasure as I expanded her slightly upon entry. Putting a hand back to my thigh, she slowed me.

"Give it a second, baby, just a second."

I paused and could feel her tight muscles on my cocktip, slowly that grip faded and pushed forward.

"Easy now,"

"Oh my God, you're big. You're-"

I wasn't sure if she was just trying to stroke my ego or making a declarative statement. I put one hand on her back, the other on my leg and continued inward.

She let out a high-pitched howl, three times in a row, something I had never heard before.

I gave a hard push.

"Oh my God, not all the way in yet, please." She begged.

I hesitated. Then decided I was in charge and pushed inward. She reacted with a long groan. I gave several pushes then withdrew to admire her open ass.

Holding my latex covered cock in hand I admired the view of her waiting for my next plunge. Her unused pussy lips were visible below, confused by the blood swelling them, but lack of attention.

I thrust deep in her ass this time driving myself to the hilt. While the butt plug might have been wider than me at its midpoint it wasn't longer, and my cock entered the deeper areas of her rectum unexplored by fingers or toys.

Her internal muscles went to work on my cock enclosing around it and doing what nature created them to do, ripple and pulse to expel anything in the area. So, while her rectum tried to push me out, I overpowered it will be pushing inward, and the battle of pleasure began for the two of us.

I let out a low groan.

"You like that filthy hole, don't you?" she said.

I certainly did, and I also enjoyed hearing her speak in this manner. Not that she didn't speak during sex; she was always vocal. But she didn't say things like that.

"All I could think of in church was that thick cock of yours in my ass," she continued. "I soaked my panties thinking of you."

Wow, she was going places, but I didn't reply instead began to push and pull my cock creating a frenzy of pleasure. I responded with a groan, but she wanted more.

I tried my hand at it.

"All I could think about in that hot church was to bend you over the pew and fuck your ass in front of the entire congregation."

I pressed harder to emphasize my claim on her, and she responded with a long, submissive moan. I was confident the mental imagery I painted in her mind was compelling.

"I would make The Bishop watch me defile you."

She liked that and replied.

"He would be so angry, knowing I let you in my ass."

As obscene as that image was, it emboldened me to fuck her ass harder as I fantasized about The Bishop being forced to watch me take his wife in that sacred sanctuary.

I could have finished but the position was causing my legs to cramp.

I withdrew, my cock to with a loud fart sound from the air I had pushed into her colon. She was caught her off-guard, but I gave her no time to react and then dragged her body back, so her feet were off the bed, torso on the bed, and her ass was presented to me at the perfect height to defile it.

A thick glob of coconut oil mixed with her anal moistures rolled down her inner thigh as I was quick to reenter her, only now I was pushing hard and no longer exploring her ass, I was fucking it mercilessly.

But this position wasn't perfect either. I pulled out to another rush of air and noise.

"It feels numb... It's so good. Keep going," she begged.

I moved her forward, this time flat on the bed, her legs spread open. I crawled on the bed on my knees, her ass under my balls. Guiding my cock back to the hole I desired. Perfect. This was the way to fuck a woman's ass.

She made that strange sound of pleasure.

"That's it, baby. Deeper. I can take it,"

I put my hand on her shoulders so I could lean on her, and it was game on. I was pumping away furiously at her ass, the bed which was usually sound and secure was rocking. The room was heating up, and the smell of our illicit conjunction filled the room.

"I'm going to cum," I declared.

"Do it Baby, you can come in my ass," she reminded me.

There was a hitch in her breathing, her body began to tighten, and her legs twitched. That was the last thing she said as her orgasm hit her with a surprise.

Her anus constricted against my cock, and I felt the familiar muscle contractions of an orgasm, but with my cock sleeved in her tight flesh tube, it was far more intense on me.

Despite the condom, her anal orgasm was incredible. She howled a cry of pleasure, and she released a small shot of piss that I didn't bother to point out followed by an intense massaging on my cock by the muscles of her pelvic floor.

My orgasm was intense. As the semen exited my penis it immediately shrouded my cock with its sicky warmth. The condom held and contained my sperm, which I imagined was teeming with life-giving DNA, slamming against the walls of their latex prison looking for a warm body to impregnate.

She lay there spent, but very much aware. This wasn't over. We had both enjoyed the moment, but according to her wishes, we needed to complete God's will and deposit my seed inside her vessel.

I withdrew slowly, holding the condom to my cock so it wouldn't slip off insider. Her anus closed with a confused sputter, spitting out drips of coconut oil, air and other sounds.

I pulled back, and she rolled over to ensure I had done as promised.

My cock was semi hard, and I gently slipped the condom off, holding it closed.

She pulled her legs back, grasping each by the thigh,

She and watched as I careful squeezed my sperm out of the condom into the folds at the top of her vagina. She brought her fingers to catch any stray drips, making sure most, if not all, found its way inside her.

When she couldn't get any more out of the condom she found my cock, still semi hard enough to enter her and placed the condom back on me, this time inside out to create a cum covered sheath.

I recognized her intention was for me to insert myself and push the excess cum into her. It seemed like the exact opposite if what a condom was intended for, but was different, as was everything to do with this woman, and I rode her semi soft until the condom came out clean, washed by her vagina that greedily claimed all traces of my thick white seed.

We collapsed on the bed next to each other, but that moment was short-lived. She then sat up to get dressed and go pick up one child and drop off another, then prepare for a bake sale, a PTA meeting, and find time for a manicure.

"Don't you get tired?"

"Exhausted. But this is my life, I chose it, I love it. I really do."

"This part too?"

"Oh, I love this part so much. What I get to do over here is my reward for everything else I do the rest of my day".

She opened the bedside table drawer and took out the smallest butt plug, then threw it to me.

"You might want to start training that gorgeous behind of yours for Monday."

She gave me a gentle kiss and was gone. I was left holding a bejeweled butt plug sitting naked atop sheets that were stained with a variety of liquids.

I had two dates lined up with Mandy: Costco and church. On the sexy date meter, these two destinations probably wouldn't even register a 1 out of 10, but I was as excited as I had been for my senior prom. The prom came with the promise of a blowjob from Cindy Taylor, and all Costco had in store for me was schlepping Mandy's stuff from the store to her car, but couldn't wait.

I was out front and ready for our Costco date. As we walked into the store, sure enough, she ran into several people she knew. Mandy knew everyone.

She was cool, casually introducing me as her husband's intern. No one would suspect anything else. Inside the big-box store, she was an expert, filling two carts. I learned a lot about Kirkland versus name brands. I made sure to keep my distance and prevent my hands and eyes from wandering and having a wonderful time.

As we rolled down the aisle with baking goods, she asked me to go get the huge tub of coconut oil down from the shelf. Since there was no one around, she whispered in my ear.

"Better get two, who knows, I really might like fucking your ass."

I was blushing, but I obeyed and grabbed a second jar of the best lube around.

I bought her a hot dog at the food court, and she shared gossip about all the people we had seen in the store. I noticed she had purchased a bottle of whisky, hidden in the cart by toilet paper and paper towels.

"What's up with the whisky? You trying to take our coffee game up a notch?"

"Is whisky good in coffee?" she asked with genuine curiosity

"The Irish seem to think so."

I'll have to give it a try. This is for The Bishop. We all have our vices; his is a small taste of whiskey once in a while.

I recalled the flask in his bedside table. It was an interesting tidbit of information.

We changed topics, but it did leave me wondering about The Bishop and what it was about him that bothered me, aside from the fact that he was Mandy's husband.

We had to cut our fun short because the frozen items were thawing, but I can't remember the last time I had such a great meal with a woman.

Actually, I could. It was our lunch date at Georgetown before my senior year. A date, whether real or not, isn't about the food or the atmosphere; it's about the company you keep. I wanted to keep her forever, but not in a creepy way.

We got to her house, and I helped unload the car and stock the shelves.

"I had a great time," I said.

"Great time, where?" Hannah said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Costco, your mom took me to Costco. I've never been there. I got socks and some other stuff."

Hannah looked at me nonplused.

"Wow, Ethan, Costco. So exciting?"

"Ethan is learning about the simpler things in life. He's coming to church with us on Sunday."

Hannah brightened up.

"Then I guess Costco will be the highlight of your week."

She left.

"Don't listen to her. You'll find church to be very uplifting."

As long as I was there with her, I didn't mind all the fire and brimstone they could throw at me.

I woke up early on Sunday, showered, shaved then shaved my balls, crotch, and even my ass. I wanted to be ready for what Mandy had in store for me.

The Amazon box arrived two days ago, and it had been several days since we were intimate.

I walked to the Bartons' and climbed into the passenger seat of the Suburban. The Bishop took his car because Sundays were an all-day event for a man of his stature.

Amanda wore a properly fitted green linen dress with large buttons. The outfit, along with the LDS garments she wore underneath, kept her large breasts subdued. Her only indulgence was her matching green heels.

The Bishop wasn't sitting with us, but rather in a pew alongside other Bishops and elders.

The speaker's sermon focused on readings from Genesis 2:18. The reading was clear in its purpose: "And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him."

Mandy leaned over to me. "Is that me? Am I your helper?"

As I processed the sermon, which focused on God's design for marriage and a one-flesh union, I could see how she was helping me. I had never cared for anyone like I did for her. I grew sad that she might be helping me, saving me from being alone, but what I needed was for us to be together, in a deep and meaningful way.

She let the side of her pinky finger graze the side of my hand, sending shivers through my body.

The sermon continued.

"That's why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh."

Again, our hands touched briefly. I could feel the heat of her touch on my skin.

"Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame."

That was it. That was my defining statement. I felt no shame. I looked at Mandy, and she gently gazed at me, our pinky fingers hooked together in a hidden embrace. It was like a pinky promise that neither of us would feel shame, now or ever.

The room was hot; our bodies were hotter. A single drop of sweat trickled from her scalp. LDS sermons were never short. Time was standing still.

Amanda always had things planned to the minute. After church, she piled everyone in the suburban, we stopped at Sonic, picked up the order, and headed home. She dropped me at my house and then drove off.

CHAPTER 8

THE LORD WILL FORGIVE

That had to be the longest sermon I've ever endured. It threw my impeccable timing off. I hustled everyone into the car as Ethan slid into the passenger seat.

He could see how rushed I was. The sweat was beading on my brow.

We hit the drive-through at Sonic. As usual, it was a mess with each kid changing their order.

Food in hand, we raced home. I dropped Ethan off at his house, thanked him for attending church, and was off.

At home, I made Hanna organize her brothers and sister. Food on the table, educational TV on the set. And I was off again.

"I'll be with The Bishop for the afternoon meetings," and headed out.

The rush, the heat of the sun, was making me sweat... something I'd normally hate, but not today, not on a Sunday.

I drove out of our driveway, then turned down Ethan's driveway and clicked open his garage. I parked inside, closed the door behind me, and took a breath. This was my first moment of privacy all day since my morning poop.

I was tempted to just sit here, maybe let my fingers explore myself. I adjusted myself and then it was out of the car and into Ethan's kitchen.

He was waiting there. His jacket was off, but his shirt and tie still on. I looked right at him with an almost animal desire.

It had been quite a morning, sitting next to each other, aware that he could sense the desire radiating from my body, listening to the words of God preaching about a man and a woman and their one-flesh union. I'm sure lust was also on the menu, but I lost track during our innocent pinky play.

I approached him with intention.

"On your knees," I said dispassionately.

He obeyed. I pulled up my dress to reveal the LDS undergarments I knew he loved. He could see I soaked right through them.

He moved in, but I held his head, only allowing him to inhale my rich scent. I had never smelled another woman's vagina, but there must've been something to my hormones and ph, because Ethan wasn't the first to be enraptured by my flavor.

I let go of his head and he brought his hands up to pulled down my LDS panties and reveal my soaked pussy.

As he did he was met with a wet smack as my bright pink seven-inch lady cock flopped out surprising him.

He looked up at me and marveled.

"You wore it to church!"

I bit my lip innocently and nodded.

He proceeded to pull my garments to the ground as I held my dress up with one hand and gently stroked my lady cock with the other.

The pink semi-realistic looking dildo was mounted to straps that held it in place just above my vagina. It made out of silicone that had the firmness of a hard penis with a little bit of give. I purposely chose one without the balls, because I honestly didn't know if that would turn him on or off. Best not to take chances.

If he wants balls after today, I'll get another.

It took me 20 minutes to position it perfectly under my dress and LDS garments, so that it hung down against my thigh without tenting my dress, creating an unwanted spectacle.

It wasn't comfortable at first, but once I was dressed and looking at myself in the mirror, knowing I was hiding seven inches under my clothing, was oddly invigorating.

No one in church knew, not even Ethan, and that alone caused me exhilaration.

Now, about to receive his tongue, I held my lady cock up, giving gave him unfettered access to my vagina, the only thing I wanted him concentrating on right now.

I had visited my esthetician yesterday to have my pubic area perfectly manicured. She's an artist and left me with a thin coat of pubic hair that tapered off where my labia started and cleaned away anything below the top of my slit. I loved having fine hair above my vagina but having my tenderest parts hairless.

I could smell my mating scent and a hint of the silicone from my lady cock as the room filled with the odor of impending sex.

Ethan remained on his knees, and I lifted my right leg and placed it over his shoulder resting my foot on a chair, opening my pussy directly in his face.

He grasped my ass cheeks, one with each hand and brought my fragrant garden into his mouth. Attacking it with loud and hungry slurps.

Oh God, he's good at this. So good.

My one hand gripped my dress and the lady cock, keeping them both out of the way, the other hand grasped the curls of his hair as if bridling a wild horse.

He turned his head, so my pussy lips met his like two mouths in a make out session. His tongue pushed inside me, and I could feel my clit rise to meet him.

I tilted slightly left offering his mouth access to more than my slit. He took the bait, and I felt his tongue gliding down my perinium, wetting it, approaching my furled knot then returning to my vagina, a move I rewarded with a gentle moan.

I silently thanked Raj, the dictator who ran my Pilates classes, because this wasn't the easiest position to maintain. My leg muscles had been trained, and I held firm, giving him unfettered access despite the threat of leg cramps.

I gently bounced on my left leg letting my pussy slide back and forth on his mouth. I was unsure what to do with my hands so I gently began to masturbate my lady cock. Of course, that provided no sensation, at least not physical, but the act of stroking myself like a man, that must've been some kind of mental trigger, because my brain rewarded me with a rush of dopamine.

I covered his head with the bottom of the green dress, forcing him to inhale my essence. If my pussy smelled as good as he had told me, then this would be heaven for him.

He gently massaged my thigh while slurping away at my thickening labia lips. This was loud, vulgar oral sex. He washed his mouth with my wetness, and I moaned in response. It was crude, and it was invigorating.

My climax was coming fast, I knew I would cum several times today, so I pushed in harder and ground down against his face. A flood of his saliva and my drippings flowed down my thighs, soaking his fingers.

I pulled his hair tight then moved them to the back of his head and began to fuck his face with my vagina.

I made a long cry that drowned out the crude sounds, then froze for a second as the first wave swallowed me with pleasure. It passed, and I continued to gyrate, slower, now as the second wave approached. This one was big.

He continued to lap away at my wetness. I knew he would not stop until I told him to. I had to scold him in the past for stopping before my orgasm ended. If nothing else, he was getting a good lesson in female needs this summer.

Sometimes when I orgasmed, he would feed his wet fingers for me to taste the liquid flush my body created. He told me how my orgasms arrived with a rush of sweetness. Perhaps it was my body's gift for providing me a climax. I assume that sweet flow was about to fill his mouth.

And then I came. Hard.

He could tell by the contraction of my muscles and the sounds of my ecstasy. His tongue continued, and I let it tickle and provoke me until the feeling became too much, nerve bundle overload, and I staggered back until I found a wall to lean on as I rode the final seconds of glory he provided me.

My dress fell back into place hiding my lady cock which bulged against the fabric. He slowly stood and we met in a deeply personal open-mouth kiss that soon turned to me exploring his face, tasting what I gave him from my body.

I picked up my soiled undergarments, lifted my dress again, and mopped up the mess we created, smiled, and opened a kitchen drawer where I had earlier found he had placed a purloined pair of my soiled garments, probably stolen from my laundry basket.

I wanted him to know there was nothing about him that I didn't know. I think he realized that as I placed this filthy garment with the other, closed the drawer, and did so without a word.

I could see a look of guilt in his eyes.

I didn't say a word; I took him by the hand up the stairs where I was on excitement overload to strap on that rubber cock and feel what it's like to enter a man.

He came up behind me and unzipped my dress, which fell to the floor, leaving me half-nude from the waist down, my pink lady cock hanging there, ready for action.

I turned around and loosened his tie, then gently unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest as I exposed his flesh. He unbuckled his pants, dropped them revealing his rigid penis, pulsing with excitement.

We met in a kiss, and I gently stroked him with my fingers. He was so hard, I could feel the veins bulge out like braille letters, letting me read his excitement.

As was my Sunday ritual, I wore my bra over my LDS garments. Some women did it the other way around, bra first, garment second. But The Bishop had always insisted the garment be worn against the flesh, and the bra, to support my large breasts, was over that. It wasn't very comfortable, but it was The Bishops wish, and I always obeyed him.

Ethan knew my bras opened from the front. Any woman with a sizable bust will tell you this is the best option. He opened the bra, and it fell away; then attempted to pull the garment over my head.

I didn't let him. Today, I'd wear the now-fragrant LDS garment for a while, just to drive him wild. This was all about pleasing my young man in ways he never knew possible.

I crawled on to the bed and lay propped up against the pillows, then took some lube and began to masturbate my lady cock while I beckoned him closer to me with a finger.

"That looks kind of big," he said with a bit of panic.

"Now you know what I have to deal with."

I continued to stroke it.

He crawled forward over me, and our mouths met. Soft, deep kisses. He soon moved to my breasts, still covered with my fragrant LDS garment. His kisses through the fabric excited my nipples, and they grew rock hard, practically begging me to take off the top.

While he kissed my cloth covered breasts, I took his hand, putting his forefinger in my mouth then two fingers, tasting the flavors my pussy had left on them. I sucked them both, until his mouth returned to mine and our tongues went at each other.

He then moved his body down, perhaps to taste my pussy again, but he went to all the way to my feet and did something unexpected. He began to lick and suck my toes.

I wasn't prepared for that, but I have always wanted to have my feet worshiped, and I let the pleasure sink in. Letting out a moan of approval, I stroked my leg. Sucking each toe until it was soaked he began long licks up my legs, tasting the salt from my sweat as he progressed.

I thought I was in charge, what with me wearing the lady cock and all, but he was working erogenous zones I didn't know existed. I felt hands under my LDS garment working my breasts, and realized they were my own.

He continued onward, doing a slow burn up my legs. The room was getting hot, or at least I perceived it that way, and I took the fragrant top off, allowing me to knead and massage my breasts freely. I turn the nipple up on my left tit and brought it to my mouth and began to tease myself into a heightened state.

Ethan returned to me, but did not interfere with my breast play. Instead, he raised my left arm, revealing a small gift I left him, a five o'clock shadow on my armpits. I chose not to shave under my arms for the past few days in anticipation of today's events.

Ethan smiled, knowing I had done this for him. He held my arm up and began to kiss and lick my armpit, pancaking his tongue and giving it long tastes of my sweat. My armpits were the origin of my Sabbath savor, and I would allow him to linger there as long as he needed.

I had no idea a tongue on my armpit could generate so much pleasure, and I would have been content to let this go on until we both orgasmed, but he brought his mouth to mine, again bringing my flavors and my essence back for me to taste.

He returned to my armpit, licked it some more, and then to my breasts, which had been off limits. I was sure he could induce a letdown, but he chose to go lower until he was at my thighs, looking at my lady cock.

I began to stroke it and held it erect, to show him what to expect.

He crawled back up the bed and lay on his back next to me, stroking himself as I rubbed my lady cock.

He's ready for me.

I turned to face him and gently crawled over his body, my lady cock hanging between my legs. I grabbed his hand and pinned him back, then moved in for aggressive kisses then his nipples sucking on them then go up on my knees and began to masturbate my fake cock in front of him.

He responded in kind, masturbating himself. I gestured to the coconut oil that was sitting on the bedside table.

He took a handful and slather it on his cock then started masturbating. I slathered another handful on my plastic cock and masturbated it as well.

"Legs back," I commanded.

He pulled his legs up, so his knees were near his ears giving me a full spread of anus, his perineum and his balls. He reached up and masturbated my fake cock a few strokes, perhaps to insure it was lubricated enough.

I pushed his hand off and brought my head down low, licking his balls gently. Like myself, he had sat through a long, hot sermon, and his balls tasted of salt and sweat.

I moved to the brown skin that circled his tight knot and began to lick in an elliptical motion, fully aware how much this was stimulating the nerve endings around this sensitive area.

He was clean and smelled of Noxzema. No doubt he spent extra time cleaning himself in anticipation of my intentions. I teased him with a sharpened tongue that dipped into his sealed hole, surprising him.

Then I rose and returned to his face with deeper kisses. My plastic cock rested next to his flesh cock and I could feel both on my soft flesh.

How often had I been in his portion as he would come up on me, press his cock against my stomach as kissed getting ready to insert himself in me.

From this position, I could feel the dominance. Sure, I'd ridden him plenty of times from above, but to do packing seven inches of cock was like having a weapon. It empowered me.

I took the coconut oils and lubed my cock and fingers then gently pressed on his backdoor until it opened and swallowed my two fingers. As I slid into his rectum could feel his smooth surface.

Ethan made a moan that betrayed the pain.

"Should I stop?" I asked.

He shook his head no.

And I continued, and in a few seconds, I was sliding my fingers in and out with ease. Ethan's cock remained hard without so much as touch from me.

I pulled my fingers out, slathered some more oil on my girl cock and his hole then took the toy in hand and pushed the head against his pucker. The dildo had a much more tapered head than Bruce's cock with its thick mushroom cap and slid in an inch without issue.

But then he winced, I had met the inner sphincter, a far tougher doorman.

With a push from my hips, he let out a gentle groan of pleasured pain, and I was past the last barrier.

From self-experience, I knew the pain was behind us and proceeded inward.

I placed my hands on his thighs and gently began to press forward. I thrust my hips driving the cock into his ass. Ethan grasped his legs below the knees to keep his legs up and ass open.

I pushed again and drove the cock in as far as I could finding myself resting against his butt. Moving my hands to get position, I did what men do to me and began thrusting my hips to drive in and pull out.

At first fast, then slow, then I leaned into him, placing my breasts against his chest, our mouths met, and my movements became gentle and sensual.

Our kisses were intense, as we both were experiencing something so wild for the first time. I could see his nostrils flaring as he inhaled that Sunday savor from my armpits. The entire moment animal sex, and even though I was sharing gentle probing kisses, I had every intention to bring this up a notch in 5, 4, 3, 2...

I pulled up thrusting my hips, driving my girl cock deeper in my young man's ass, catching him by surprise.

"You like my cock in your ass?" I asked.

I demanded an answer.

I realized the angle wasn't perfect and suddenly pulled out, catching him off guard. He looked up at me with wondering eyes. Why had I done that?

Grabbing a pillow, I brought it to us.

Put that pillow under your back. I need to go deeper.

Ethan obeyed and put the pillow under the small of his back as I stroked my girl cock for him to watch.

"Bring your ass to me"

He complied and scooched down like an obedient boy.

I held my girl cock and then slapped it on his confused tight knot, careful not to hit his balls. I followed with my fingers riding around his rim, then girl cock in hand, I dragged it up and down the outside of his ass from his balls to his tailbone, warning him of what was about to happen. Again.

Placing one hand on his thigh, I got the cock tip easily in his ass then slid in, this time bringing all seven inches inside him.

He grunted as he held his legs back in a position that could only be for anal sex or a doctor's examination.

I went to work with my hips, giving rapid thrusts followed by circular motions, making sure I was stimulating his nerve endings more than they could handle.

The feeling of empowerment was overwhelming. I both loved it and feared it. As a woman, my role had always been to receive pleasure from a man and return it. But like this, with my hands holding his ankles as I watched my girl cock slide in and of his ass, I felt dominance. And it scared me that I liked it so much.

Ethan's moans were far more animal and guttural than normal. I didn't want to spoil the moment by thanking him for allowing me this feeling.

"Do you like me fucking you?" I asked.

"I do... this is-"

I gave my girl cock a hard shove and he winced unable to finish his sentence.

"I love how you're taking it."

I really did. Watching him react to an inanimate part of my body was captivating. I felt something coming over me, a feeling born from being truly in charge and born from his moans of pleasure. It was strong but distant and growing. My body began to perspire. Already ripe from a day spent in thick polyester garments, then engaged in sex, I could smell my fragrance. My human ester, the key ingredient to my body's natural perfume.

My breasts were covered in perspiration as I continued to ride Ethan. Drops of my salty, fragrant water dripped on his face and chest. I saw him licking his lips.

I was about to cum. It was unexpected, and frankly, the timing was not-

"Oh, my God!" He shouted. "Oh, my God!"

Then, without warning, without even being touched, his cock began to bob and pulsate. I watched in complete awe as it rose and fell like a whale cresting the waters. Ethan was too busy moaning to notice. As I reached down to grab his penis, he spontaneously erupted in orgasm. Long ropes of thick white cum splattering on his torso. Three in rapid succession, and then two, with a lesser force.

He let out a long groan of pleasure. As I watched him orgasm, it was swept up in my wave of pleasure, and I let out a long moan that turned into quick, short breaths.

I came to a slow stop with my girl cock still deep in his rectum. I release my grip on his ankles and put his feet down.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know that would happen," he said with a little bit of fear.

"It's ok," I replied. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. You have your rules, and I felt myself coming, but I thought I could hold on longer."

"It was amazing to watch. Amazing."

"But I didn't finish inside you."

"The Lord will forgive. We can all count on his forgiveness."

I put my hand on his semi thick cock and gently stroked it to coax several pearls of cum to bubble out and over.

He relaxed to enjoy the feeling as I slowly pulled back until my girl cock slid out of him and his sphincter snapped shut. A trickle of liquified coconut oil leaked out.

He lay there almost helpless as I sat up to look down on my young man.

I had so much to tell him. There were things he needed to know.

I snuggled in close, our bodies both covered in perspiration, wet, fragrant, and spent. He turned to me and held me tight. The sperm that had landed on him was transferred to my body, and I gently ran my fingers through its life-giving gift.

"So, you're going to forget all about me when you return to Boston?" I asked with a pouting face.

"If that were even possible," he replied.

CHAPTER 9

IF THAT WERE EVEN POSSIBLE

Mandy snuggled in close to me, holding me tight.

"So, you're going to forget all about me when you return to Boston?" she asked with a pouting face.

"If that were even possible," I replied.

"You know it's not too late to return to the church. I'd very much like to be together in the celestial kingdom."

She was offering me a relationship for when we both died and went to LDS heaven.

"Like they would even let me in."

"Why don't you think you'll be in the celestial kingdom?" she asked, confused by my doubt.

"Well, beyond my lack of faith, there is this adultery conundrum. Judgment day might be a little harder for people like me."

She got serious at the word 'adultery'.

"This isn't adultery; It's not something to make jokes about."

I had never seen her so serious.

What was I thinking?

If I were an adulterer, so was she, and considering her husband and family, her transgressions were more serious than mine.

The last thing I wanted was to introduce the real world into our small fantasy life.

"I'm sorry, that was insensitive."

"What if I told you The Bishop knows I'm here. He knows what we do when we're together."

I laughed at the notion.

"God forbid. That would be a huge problem."

"Not if I was here with his permission."

I was confused by her hypotheticals and concerned she might be feeling the need to confess our summer tryst to her husband.

"If you're thinking of telling him, I can give you a hundred reasons not to.

"You're not listening to me. I don't have to tell him, he knows I'm here. He knows what we do here."

Panic washed over me.

I sat up in bed and looked at her.

"Please tell me you're making a joke."

She didn't smile.

My mouth went dry. My head began to spin.

"Why would he-"

"Why would he allow me to be with you? To make love with you? To let you take me as a husband takes his wife?"

I had no words.

"The same reason he let your father take me for eighteen years."

"My father? What does he have to do with this? With us?"

She sat up now.

"About the time your mother died, we found out The Bishop could not father children."

"He has children," I reminded her. "Five of them."

"No, your father sired all my children. From Gideon down to John-John. Your father, not The Bishop, gave me those children."

This had gone way too far to be a joke. I got out of the bed and stood looking at her. This could not be true.

"You and my father-"

"You and I have had sex dozens of times this summer. Is it that hard to imagine me with your father?"

"Yes, it is!" I said and dropped into a chair.

If the moment when she told me Gideon had caught us was bad enough, this was a complete out-of-body, horrifying experience.

"It's imperative for The Bishop to have a large family. He's a leader in our community—a pillar. Your father had always been a kind man. He found me attractive, so we approached him with the offer. Well, he was hesitant at first, but he's a man. He had needs and urges that I could satisfy. After I got pregnant with Gideon, he agreed to sire all my children."

"Then Gideon and Hannah are my-"

"Your brother and sister. They all are."

This was overwhelming. My father had given Mrs. Barton all five of her children. More specifically, all her children were my siblings—every single one of them and I had just spent the better part of the summer sleeping with their mom.

"When your father died, we were trying to get pregnant with my sixth child. Sadly, that didn't happen."

Why would he do this?

She moved in close and lovingly took my hand.

"He did it for you and me. The Bishop promised him you would get into the best schools, have the best jobs, and become an essential church member."

I got into Harvard on my own.

Your application was impressive, but it needed a call from The Bishop to finalize it.

You're saying my father had sex with you in exchange for me getting into Harvard?

Well, not at first. After your mother died, your father was lonely. He needed companionship. You probably wouldn't have noticed; you were about 7 years old at the time.

The Bishop convinced him to help me get pregnant. In exchange, The Bishop financed your father's business.

My father owned a storage facility and had a U-Haul franchise. Neither made a lot of money, but we were never in financial hardship.

"The Bishop helped him for years. Your father wasn't a very good businessman."

"Maybe because he was too busy having sex with the woman next door," I fired back.

Her face got cross.

"Enough of that. Don't speak poorly of your father. He gave me everything I care about in this life. That includes you."

"Then why didn't you leave The Bishop and take up with my father?"

"Your father never stopped loving your mother. Never. That's what made this so perfect. He didn't want me... well, not as a wife. We each fulfilled a need."

"Oh God, I know I'll end up in counseling after this."

"Don't even joke about that. This can never get out."

"You can't tell me whether I can go to counseling. This is some fucked up shit."

"Language. And it's not me telling you; it's The Bishop. You never want to cross The Bishop."

It was a real threat. I could hear his voice in her words. There was no telling how far The Bishop would go to protect his image, but I was certain that crossing him could cost me dearly.

"Just let me process this. You're the mother of my father's children. Your husband, The Bishop, consented to this arrangement."

Your father first, and now you. You were both The Bishop's idea.

I gazed at her with fear in my eyes.

The Bishop feels a family should have seven children to serve the Church. After your father died, he decided you should be the father of our last two children and maintain their bloodline intact.

"Why did you agree to this? You let him just put you out there to breed? Like a farm animal?"

The next thing I felt was a slap across my face.

It stung.

"What was that for? This isn't a freakin' soap opera, you can cut out the dramatics."

"I'm not some kind of farm animal."

"Okay, I'm sorry about that. But he's breeding you. Making you have sex to get pregnant.

"It was my idea."

"You said it was his idea."

He wanted sperm donors. I refused. I will not conceive a child through such an impersonal method of procreation. It had to be physical.

"This whole thing. This summer of... all the sneaking around. All the sex. All that talk about not wasting my seed. Was all this just so I could try to get you pregnant?"

"Which is what you did."

I looked at her in awe.

"Ethan, we're going to have a child together. You've fulfilled God's desire for me to have a sixth child. The Bishop and the Lord will bless you for what you've done."

"Wait, wait, wait, slow down. You said you couldn't get pregnant. You assured me of that."

"While I was breastfeeding, that was true, but I weaned John-John weeks ago. I told you that."

I interrupted her. "We've been fucking like rabbits,"

"Making love," she corrected me.

"Did you love my father?"

"Yes and no. I spent much of a summer getting to know him before I allowed his sperm into me. I loved his spirit."

"You loved his spirit? What does that mean?"

"He was caring, he cared about me. He was kind. I loved his spirit, who he was, and what he was doing for me. I could not conceive a child without love. All my children were conceived with the spirit of love."

"You won't conceive a child without love?"

"No child deserves that," she replied.

"Then you concede that you love me, don't you?"

She was quiet. Looking for words.

"You know I love you," I said, without giving her a chance to answer. "You know this, right? Because I've done a lousy job of hiding it.

She remained quiet.

So, what is it? Do you love me? Or just my spirit? I have the right to know.

She seemed lost, unsure how to answer.

"You," she said softly. "I love you."

Suddenly, the weight of everything she had just laid on me disappeared. She got up from the bed, came over to me, and embraced me, putting her hand on my shoulder.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," she said in a voice that seemed on the verge of tears.

I tried not to let it happen, but that day at Costco, just the two of us, I realized The Bishop never once spent a moment like that with me.

"If I could have spent six more hours in that store with you, I would have..."

She pulled away and took her garment top, pulling it over her head as she began to dress.

"This changes everything," I said in a hopeful tone.

"No, it changes nothing. This child will be The Bishop's child. His sixth child. You'll go back to school. I'll go back to my duties as a wife, mother and helpmeet."

"What if I say no? What if I tell people? The elders. The other Bishops?"

You would be destroying me as a person. You would force me to become an outcast. The children would be taken from me. You would be condemned by the church. But The Bishop, he would be fine.

"He's a fuckin' monster. He made you do this. Whored you out to me, to my dad. What if I had turned you down? What if I had half a brain and didn't let you seduce me?"

"There were alternatives, but only you ensured the pure bloodline."

"Gideon? Was he my alternative?"

"That's irrelevant. We're having a child. You provided me and The Bishop with our sixth child. He'll be happy, and you'll reap benefits from this."

"So, this is how it ends? I give that bastard what he wants. He gets my child and you?"

"It's not over. Six months after our child is born, we'll conceive another—my seventh. We can do this again."

"Oh, my God, this nightmare is never going to end."

"Do you want it to end?" she asked,

"I want to be with you." I pleaded. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Let me be specific. I love you as a man loves his wife. Not your spirit, or whatever the fuck that is, I love you."

"We can continue together until the seventh child is born. That's almost two years."

"Half of which you'll be pregnant."

"With our children."

"No, The Bishop's children," I corrected her.

She put her bra over her top and slipped on her dress. She was transforming back into the obedient LDS mother she pretended to be, right before my eyes.

I had planned to tell her I would be taking a leave of absence from Harvard and stay here longer so we could enjoy more time together.

Now I wanted to escape. Not from her, I loved her and now knew she loved me, but from The Bishop, whose very presence in his home next door, sleeping in the same bed as the woman I loved, filled me with fits of anger.

Mrs. Barton gave me a gentle yet loving kiss before walking out of our room. I had referred to the master bedroom as "our room" all summer as we pretended to be married.

Perhaps this is what it feels like to pretend to break up.

CHAPTER 10

SO WHAT HAPPENS NOW

That was the last I saw of her. Two days after that conversation, I headed back to Boston to complete my final year of law school.

I had two choices: dwell on the love I had found and now lost or apply that energy into my studies. I chose the latter.

Mrs. Barton would text me from time to time and even ask if I was coming home for the holidays. I could have ignored her texts, but instead, I'd reply with one-word answers.

Busy.

Can't.

No.

I wasn't trying to be rude, but I was still processing this strange brew of deceit and devotion, that had left me so fucked up.

At times, I would masturbate to the memories of our time together, but visions of The Bishop would cloud those thoughts.

I spent Christmas in Boston, telling each of my friends a different story about where I would be. Although I had lost control of my life last summer, I knew that if I focused on my studies, I could gain control over my thoughts.

But I could not control my dreams, and nearly every night I'd be with Mandy. The Bishop was never in those dreams, just she and I. The dreams were almost never sexual. It would be us spending time together. At most, we held hands or kissed.

I knew I should see a therapist about my experience, but I remembered the threat Mandy said could come to her if our tryst was made public in any way or form. Time and distance would have to be my therapy.

It was mid-January when I came out of Langdell Hall on the Harvard campus and saw her standing there. She was all alone.

I assumed I was dreaming. I must have been asleep, but a student on a Citybike nearly hit me, and I realized I was very much awake.

Her face showed a little weight, but in her winter coat, you couldn't tell she was six months pregnant.

I asked her why she was there. Was everything ok? Was she okay?

Her answer was unexpected. Everything was fine. Perfect. Except she felt lonely.

She shared that she had cried uncontrollably every morning since our last day. She sank into a depression and spent several days at my house, lying in our bed.

The Bishop had hired a nanny to cover for her time away from home. None of this was planned for in the grand scheme and The Bishop had grown angry with her and livid with me.

I had so much to say to her. I had rehearsed countless ways to insult her, to bring her down. She had used me in the worst possible way and had exploited my father. For eighteen years, she and The Bishop had manipulated us so that he could appear to be a virile man of the church. Meanwhile, he degraded his wife to maintain that stature. I was prepared to unleash my hatred on this woman.

So here she was, and I...

... didn't say any of that.

She didn't need my semen, my support, my permission. She was here for me.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

We walked through the campus, coming to a quiet place to sit and talk.

"Does The Bishop know you're here?"

"No, I'm in Boston for a physical at Brigham and Women's. A woman at forty, they treat a pregnancy like it's high risk."

"You came to Boston for a physical?"

"I'm at seven months, so I won't be able to travel soon."

"But there's nothing wrong? Nothing that requires you to be here?"

"Yes, there is. You."

She had a difficult time making eye contact and looked at her lap as she spoke.

"I've missed you. I realized how hurt you were when summer ended. We had so much fun, shared so much together, and then the truth..."

"Yeah, the truth. That was a hell of a lot of truth."

"I know. I didn't see it coming. It was different with your father,"

"See what coming?"

"My feelings for you. I mean, with your dad, it was fun and comforting, and we never let emotions get in the way."

"Well, I'm not my dad, I guess. I've only impregnated you once."

I rolled my eyes. That wasn't necessary, and it wasn't what I wanted to say. I was overjoyed she was here and insulting her wasn't what I wanted to do. Thankfully, she let it go.

"I never felt for your father what I feel for you. That's what I came here to say. I thought this feeling would go away when you left. It didn't, it got worse."

We sat there in silence. She had, without stating the words, seemingly proclaimed everlasting love for me.

"So, what happens now?"

I return to Utah tomorrow. In two months, our daughter will be born. Three months later, you graduate, and hopefully, three months after that, you'll let me come to you when I'm ready for another child.

"So, nothing changes? This charade continues?"

"Everything changes. I think I made it clear how I feel for you. Do you understand how complicated that is for me?"

She was a master of bringing the story back to herself.

Complicated for her? She had created this world, she chose it; I had been conscripted.

Still, I did feel for her. I knew how much I wanted to be with her, and if her desire for me was even a fraction of that, her days were long and wanting.

She got up to go.

"I have an appointment. But I'm staying at the Copley Plaza if you want to come by and say goodbye or talk some more."

She stood before me with a glow that only a pregnant woman can achieve. Her hair was thick and lustrous, her face was full, and her belly was distended with our child warm inside.

I stood to face here.

"Of course, we don't have to talk," she said, then turned and walked across the quad toward a waiting town car.

It was early evening when I arrived at the Copley Plaza Hotel. I went to the front desk to find her room.

"Can you call Amanda Barton's room for me. Tell her Ethan is here?"

The clerk handed me a room key.

"She said her husband was coming by. Ethan, is it?"

"Yes, Ethan. Her husband," I said, trying to sound sincere. "I'm her husband."

The clerk handed me a room key and gestured to the elevators.

"1423, and congratulations."

I smiled and nodded. I was her husband again. Apparently, I was to be congratulated for that. Oh, wait, he meant for her pregnancy. Ok, whatever.

I gently knocked on the hotel room door, but with the key in hand, I unlocked it and entered. It was a two-room suite, and I could hear the shower running.

"Ethan?" she asked from the bathroom.

"Umm, yeah. They gave me a room key, so I let myself in."

I heard the water shut off, and a few moments later, she walked into the suite's living area wearing a thick hotel robe and drying her hair.

"I might have gone heavy on the coffee today."

"Should you even be drinking coffee?"

"Decaf. Not as much fun, but it turns out the poop effect is the same."

"And so, the shower."

She smiled.

"You know me. Poop and a shower. Some things don't change even if my body has."

I was trying to visualize her beneath the robe. We had spent most of the summer naked and in each other's arms, but there was a different body under that terrycloth, and I longed to see it.

Perhaps my gaze betrayed me.

"You're curious, aren't you?" she said with a mischievous smile.

"Very."

I could tell she was anxious, which was a notable shift from her typically confident demeanor.

She kept her gaze on me, and she reached for the tie of her robe, fingers trembling slightly, and then let it slip away, revealing her heavily pregnant form.

I noticed a line of skin discoloration from her vagina up to her belly and beyond. She had always had protruding nipples due to her breastfeeding, but I had never seen her areolas so large and dark.

I had so many questions about female physiology during pregnancy, but this didn't seem like the right time to ask.

I thought I might be put off by seeing her pregnant, especially with my child; however, I'm not sure if it was me or nature, but I found myself turned on.

She placed her hand on the swell of her belly and gently bit her lip, waiting for my approval or fearing my disapproval. Her breasts were once again heavy, her nipples thicker and darker than I remembered, pointed down.

"You look... incredible," I said, closing the distance between us.

"I've missed you. I wanted to come here so many times to see you and-"

I cut her off.

"-I missed you, too."

"With your father, he was next door, and I would go over to talk with him. But he was just a friend. I didn't need him like I need you."

"But you got what you needed from both of us."

She looked down and rubbed her belly with a smile.

"Not this," she said, referring to our child within her.

"This," she said as she moved in and kissed me passionately.

The familiarity, the plumpness of her lips, the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin, brought back the feelings of elation from the summer, and we practically melted together.

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, clinging to me. Our kisses grew deeper as the primal urge for us to reconnect intensified. On an animal level, her body sensed that I was the father of her unborn child, and her hormones sent signal after signal to her brain to draw me close, to give me pleasure, to keep me nearby, and let me protect her.

My body responded in kind. I wanted to join her, but was unsure how.

"How do we do this?" I asked, genuinely bewildered.

She backed up to the bed and sat so her face was at my waist. She didn't speak but went to work unbuckling by belt and a moment later, freeing my cock.

She smiled at seeing it once again. Moving her hair to the side, she took it in hand and brought her mouth down on my shaft, warming it with her saliva. The feeling was familiar, and I sighed in relief. She continued to work my cock, gently massaging the shaft.

Having never had sex with a pregnant woman, I wondered if this was it, but I recalled her one command, that I always finish in her pussy. Then I remembered that was probably just part of the ruse.

Perhaps this blowjob is the end game. I'll just let her lead.

After a while she released my cock from her mouth and crawled back on the bed. Her pussy was shaven, More so than in the summer. She lay on her back, her arms out, and then beckoned me to join her.

I crawled to her side, she took her breast in hand, holding it out for me. Careful not to put my weight on her, I brought my mouth to her thick nipple. It was plumper than last summer and incredibly swollen. I gently played and applied pressure with my mouth, as when she fed me in the past, but nothing came out.

She stroked my head gently, then brought her fingers to her breasts. I released her nipple and watched as she tugged and manipulated it until a thick ooze of cream trickled out.

"For you," she whispered, and I returned to her nipple and her nurturing of me. I often wonder if my desire to nurse on her breasts stemmed from not having a mother in my childhood.

But this wasn't one of those moments of wonder regarding my issues; this was her offering her body to me. With my other hand, I gently kneaded her right breast.

Her legs were akimbo, and my feet were on the ground as she scooched to the corner of the bed. She held my shaft and gently guided it in. Despite all our other positions, this was the perfect way to end this session. I supported my body with my arms, gently pressing against her belly, but with no pressure. Her soft breasts swayed with the rhythm my cock sunk into her.

She dug her nails into my back as my penis pushed the walls of her labia. I could feel them close in and gasp my shaft with each push and pull. Her body seemed to recognize and anticipate my impending ejaculation, and a rush of hormones thickened her vaginal lubricants into a milky lather, creating an intense friction. It was as if her body was rewarding me for siring her in utero child, creating a velvety smoothness to in exchange for the gift of life. She could hear my moans, louder than in the past.

"It's different, right?" she said between gasps.

"It's amazing," I managed to reply.

"My body has selected you. It's rewarding you. Go ahead, you can ride me hard. I want you to feel this."

I increased my thrusts, enjoying each sensation from the exquisite lubrication she was creating within her.

The slick velvet of her walls seemed to close in on my shaft, like closing time in a bar. I brought my mouth to hers, pressing against her flesh. A trickle of her creamy colostrum dribbled from her thick nipples without any provocation.

Our mouths met, tongues battled and then I felt myself beginning to cum. She felt it, too, and pulled me in tighter so my seed would not escape.

Pulse after pulse, each depositing an excess of my semen, useless as it may be, filling her folds. She bit my lip as her orgasm hit, unintentionally drawing blood that intermingled with our kissing.

As our twin orgasms subsided, I remained deep within her per her original instructions. Never remove myself without her permission.

Finally, she nodded, which was permission to withdraw, and I gently pulled out. A rush of cum followed along with an unladylike slurping queef.

She winced. But not in pain, but loss.

"I hate that feeling. When you pull out, I hate it."

She was still panting, and I was exhausted as I carefully rolled off her and then moved in behind her so my thick, potent cum mixed with her creamy, velvety fluid, rested against the crack of her ass as we both came down together.

She pulled me in, savoring the comfort of our embrace, as she began to contemplate the reality of our actions. I could tell she loved being cradled in my arms as my warmth filled her inside. She had no regrets about this moment.

On the other hand, I wished this weren't just a one-night event and that she would stay here in Boston with me. But in the morning, she was on a plane back to Utah, back to The Bishop, ready to bear our child, whom he would claim as his own.

I hated that man for possessing two things that were rightfully mine.

Hated him.

CHAPTER 11

THIS IS NOT A NEGOTIATION

It was late April when Nelly was born. I received a birth announcement featuring the entire Barton family gathered around Mandy and my baby. There they were—my brothers and sisters, along with The Bishop. I felt his gaze as if his eyes were looking directly at me from the still photo. His smile conveyed everything.

You provide, and I'll take it all.

If I told you the name Daniel Plainview, and said you knew who that was, then know this: The Bishop was worse. I hated him.

My graduation came and went. Mandy and the family sent me a card, but none of them came to see me walk across the stage. Why should they? I'm just the nice guy from next door. Nothing more. I had to remind myself that these people were not my family. That child wasn't mine to raise.

As emotionally painful as it was, my association with The Bishop has paid off. I gained admission to a prestigious law school and now held a position at a prominent law firm in Denver, with the chance to become a partner by the time I turn thirty. I owed all of this to The Bishop, and that infuriated me.

My office in Denver overlooked the distant Rocky Mountains. I know I could have achieved all this on my own. I could have been accepted into Harvard Law and secured this job; I was certain of it. Well, I was sure of it. My college grades were good, and I tested well.

Who was I kidding? This was all part of a transaction. And that would be fine if I hadn't fallen in love with Mandy.

Who wouldn't want a no-strings relationship with an attractive woman in exchange for success? Everyone benefits.

So why did I feel like I made a deal with the Devil?

Speaking of the devil, I had been dwelling on this because of the meeting I had scheduled for 11 o'clock. The Bishop was in Denver on business and had asked to meet with me. He insisted on it being in my office.

It was fifteen minutes late when my secretary informed me that he was there. A classic power move: keeping me waiting to show his dominance.

Throughout all the years I had known The Bishop, I never had a private conversation with him. Honestly, I don't think we'd ever discussed anything substantial at all.

He entered and surveyed my spacious office with admiration, then took a seat and fixed his gaze on me. He was a large man, exuding pride and power, and he maintained his stare until it became uncomfortable.

"You can say, thank you," he began.

"Excuse me?" I replied, already lost.

"That view, this office, that degree, and my wife. You can say thank you."

You son of a bitch.

"Thank you. I'm pretty sure I've said it before."

"I like to hear it from time to time."

"How is Amanda?" I asked. She was my only concern.

Mrs. Barton is well. The baby is healthy. She's gotten back in shape. That child is a blessing from God. The entire Temple is excited about our gift."

"I'm happy for you."

"I don't have a lot of time, Ethan. I've come here to discuss the final chapter of this story."

And here it was, another transaction.

"Mrs. Barton is ovulating again. She's cut short her breastfeeding for Nelly and is ready to conceive our 7th child."

"How does she feel about this?" I asked.

"She's a dedicated wife of a bastion of the church. That woman understands her traditional role in growing our family.

"Traditional?"

"Yes, Ethan, traditional."

His face was serious and almost deadly. He was threatening me without words. The man was worse than a mob boss.

I held up my hands in mock surrender; I'd not push the issue further.

"You will inseminate Mrs. Barton. I've had your schedule cleared in two weeks. You'll meet her in Breckenridge. We have a Chalet high up the mountainside. It's private, remote, and perfect for this job. You'll spend the week together. Knowing her fertility and your motility, that should suffice."

"And then?"

"And then she returns home, you return to Denver, and you never come back to Provo. I've already begun the process of selling your Father's home."

"It's my home and I don't want to sell it."

"But you will. The paperwork is on your desk. You'll get far beyond market price. I'll make sure of it."

"Mandy likes to use the house, and I have no problem with that."

"She'll have no use for that house with seven children. And, as I said, your privileges in Provo, in all of Utah, are revoked."

The nerve of this guy, telling me I could never go home again. He was exiling me. Of course, I knew why.

"If there are no more questions, we don't need to see each other again. Please respect Mrs. Barton, I'm sure you will, and we'll conclude this arrangement neatly."

He turned to leave.

"I don't think we've closed the negotiations yet."

The Bishop turned to look at me, sizing me up.

"Negotiations? This is not a negotiation."

"Well, if I have something you need. This continues to be a negotiation."

"So, what is it, money? I know what they're paying you here. I don't think you need to put the bite on me."

"No money."

"Then, we're done."

"I want you to watch."

He looked at me coldly and hard.

"I want you to watch me make love to your wife. I want you to see me enter her body. I want you to hear her pleasure. I want you to smell the sweat our bodies create and the room's heat. You will watch me put my child in her. That's what I want."

"You think that will bother me?"

"No, I don't think you have a conscience. But I want you to see Mandy in a state of bliss you could never provide."

He smiled and turned to leave.

"Quid pro quo. If I have to watch, so do you."

"Watch what?"

"Did you know that each night when she would come home from being with you or your father, I would have sex with her as well? Every time, I would ejaculate inside her along with your semen or his. I even recorded it."

He held up his phone.

"Do you want to see the videos?

The thought of him doing this was obscene.

"Why?"

I didn't have to ask, I understood the reason.

I had studied this in law school. I was the putative father of Nelly; my father was the putative father of the other kids. Our legal parental status had never been established, and The Bishop had ensured it would never occur.

My Father or I could claim paternity, but unless The Bishop permitted the children to have their DNA tested, a claim wouldn't go anywhere.

Even if I obtained some kind of court order, The Bishop's assertion of having had sex with Mandy on the same nights as I did, established him as the presumptive father. The videos of served as undeniable proof.

In shorthand, he was a wolf who routinely marked his territory to keep other Alphas at bay. And he was good at.

"I'll watch, then you watch and I hope you enjoy the show."

He got up and looked at me with a condescending sneer.

"For a Harvard man, I expected a much more rigorous negotiation."

He left.

That motherfucker!

I'd have gladly paid him for being with Mandy again. But somehow I just turned this into a tag team cuck show.

I only hoped she would be okay with the strange arrangement.

CHAPTER 11

HE'S OUT THERE

The arrangements were made. The Bishop would bring Mandy to their ski chalet in Breckenridge. She and I would spend the better part of a week together and have sex at least twice a day.

I drove along the twisting, turning road up the mountain, glad to have four-wheel drive because these roads were treacherous.

The charming A-frame perched on the mountainside was romantic, offering an endless view of the Rockies. This structure exemplified classic A-frame architecture, with soaring glass windows rising to meet the pointed roofline. Built into the hillside, the second floor opened onto a hilltop patio that featured a hot tub.

Inside the chalet, the wall of windows offered a sweeping view of the 10-mile range. There was no bedroom—only a large loft upstairs above the living space, featuring a huge king-sized bed directly beneath a skylight that offered endless views of the universe.

The kitchen was stocked, and I found four bottles near the coffee bar - Kahlúa, vodka, Baileys, and what looked to be very expensive bourbon.

I could hear a car approaching the narrow drive and prepared myself. I had requested this, so if this was fucked up, that was on me.

The door opened, and Mandy walked in alone.

I was relieved.

"So, he didn't come," I said as we met in a tight embrace.

"He did. He's out there. I asked him to wait."

"I'm sorry about this," I blurted out, "I was only thinking of myself. I wanted to get back at him."

She held my face and gently kissed me, stopping me from continuing.

"No, it's all good. I want this too. He needs to see what love is. Something he's incapable of providing."

As she kissed me, memories of all our encounters flooded back. I desperately wanted her now.

"We drove here from Provo. We never talked once."

She was dressed warmly, but the fire was making the chalet toasty. She took off her coat to reveal a modest outfit.

"I wanted to wear something a little sexier, but The Bishop chose my clothes."

She then bit her lip in that sexy way that drove me nuts.

"He even made me wear my garments—six hours in the car. Six hours in those garments, thinking of you," she said with a wicked smile.

My cock was inflating as she spoke. The Bishop had unknowingly made her wear the very garments that fed my kink, the creation of her intoxicating essence, her personal aphrodisiac just for me.

"Does he know?" I asked.

"He has no idea," she said with a giggle.

She led the way up to the loft and approached the dresser, where she began to remove her jewelry. As she always did, she took off her wedding ring.

"Put it back on," I whispered.

She smiled and obeyed.

"Lay on the bed, head off the side," she whispered, "I have a treat for you."

I took off my shirt, then my pants, then lay across the width of the bed with my head tipped back off the side as I watched her undress from this upside-down position.

"Is he coming in?" I asked.

"Don't think about that," she whispered. "Think about this."

With that, she slid her skirt down to reveal the thick, awkward undergarments that her religion expected her to wear. She took off her top and as usual, she wore her bra over the upper garment, which she quickly unsnapped, allowing her large breasts to drop slightly yet still shrouded in the white undergarment.

"The car was extra warm," she whispered as she approached my tipped-back head. "The Bishop wanted to turn down the heat, but I wanted to heat up my body... for you."

My head remained tipped back off the side of the bed as she brought herself to me, then straddled my face and lay across my so her garment clad pussy was near my face and her head was near my cock. I could smell her essence and desperately wanted a taste, but she liked the slow burn.

I wanted The Bishop to see this. I'm sure he thought Mandy and I had conventional, conservative vanilla sex. But here she was about to feed me her vagina for the sheer pleasure it gave us both.

I knew vanilla wasn't her favorite flavor. Did he?

As for me, my favorite flavor was hanging less than an inch over my face, marinated by a long drive, ripe with anticipation of being tasted.

Her hands slipped across my torso.

"I missed this body," she purred as she located my cock about to burst through my underwear. She gently massaged it as I pushed my face into the wetness of her garments. The thin cloth of our underwear remaining the only barrier between us.

She began to massage my cock through my underwear, but could longer bear her undergarments blocking my tongue from her clit.

She stood up, stepped back, put her hands to her hips and gently pulled down her garments to reveal her pussy, thick with a dark bush. Usually, she kept it very modest, or clean-shaven, so this was different. She moved forward, once again straddling my face, her thick black mat of pubic hair, strong with her enticing odor.

"I let it grow for you," she whispered.

The thick, wet pubic hair had a heady aroma of a woman in heat. No sweet perfume here, only the honest, natural fragrance of her arousal.

Her large clit poked through the dark matt of black hair. A thin drip of clear liquid gathered on the pink round button and held. She waited, hoping it would drip.

Bending her knees, she brought her soaked and fragrant pussy to my face, planting her slit over my mouth with my nose pressed against her ass. I inhaled her essence as she exhaled in pleasure. Slowly she dragged her pussy forward and back across my face with gentle moans.

Her thighs trembled with her arousal. A second wave of her pungent but feminine aroma filled my senses. She began to grind gently then lay naked across my body her head ever so close to my waist.

She peeled my underwear back to reveal my penis, and smiled, giving it gentle kisses while she masturbated me.

She stood up, keeping over me her pussy on my face and moaned as my tongue got to work. She gently peeled herself off, stepped back, and leaned down to kiss my face and taste herself on my lips. As much as I loved her fragrant essence, I think she enjoyed it even more.

She crawled onto the bed where we intertwined, kissing as she pulled her top off, and I shed my underwear. We were now as we liked it best, naked and feeling skin on skin, our bodies moving against each other.

I rolled atop her, pushing my manhood against the soft roll of her belly, the last hints of her recent pregnancy. Her breasts hung left and right, summoned by gravity. She smiled and held her left breast up to me.

I knew she was done breastfeeding, so there was little chance of drawing milk from her. But I tried, nonetheless. Feeding me or not, she enjoyed the sensation of my suckling and moaned.

I backed off and looked at this blonde beauty as she put her arms up, grasping the bed sheets above her, symbolically surrounding her body to me.

Pressing my cock against her the dark mat of fur that glistening from the wetness of her folds I guided my mushroom cap cocktip up and down her opening, teasing it.

Her clit had swollen with the slow burn and when my cockhead glanced off it, she would suck in a breath and hold it, to prolong the pleasure.

She was anxious to get to it and spread her legs wide, opening a pink pathway through her dark tangle of pubic hair.

"Please," she whispered in gentle desperation.

This was not a time for a slow burn and I slid my cock into her velvety wetness. She grasped the sheets even tighter as my cock distended her pussy walls. It was evident she had not had sex in a long time.

She gently began to move her hips in a hula fashion causing her vagina to clamp on to my cock and massage it.

Placing my hand on her soft belly, I enjoyed watching my cock disappearing into her slit. When I would pull out, her youthful pussy would remain clamped to my member and her tight lips would stretch, not wanting to break their grip.

There was no sound other than our heavy breathing and the wet noises my cock was causing her pussy to make.

"I'm close," I whispered.

It was happening faster than I hoped, but it had been too long, and per instructions, I hadn't masturbated in weeks.

"Me too," she whispered.

"Do it from behind," a voice said without emotion.

I looked up and The Bishop was sitting in a chair nearby, a glass of whisky in his hand, which he gently sipped as he watched us.

I pulled up and out and looked at the man. In my bliss, I had forgotten that I was the one who requested he be here, and now lost in my pleasure, I didn't hear him enter the room.

"Greater odds of conception," he growled. "Do it from behind."

I wanted him to see me, please, and inseminate his wife as some power play, but right now, with him in the room, it didn't feel like I hoped it would.

"From behind," he said again in a tone that let us know this wasn't open to negotiation.

She looked at me with eyes that seemed to say we should do as instructed.

Mandy rolled from her back to her front, and her wet vagina release a gentle pssst sounding queef, as if beckoning me to hear a secret.

She kept her knees on the bed and assumed the doggy position with her ass presented toward me. She lowered her torso halfway.

We had done it this way countless times, and I now knew why: to increase the likelihood of conception.

I looked at her ass and her hairy backpussy, both presented to me and lost myself in desire. While this might be the best way to impregnate a woman, it was also the best way to pleasure her and the best way to stare her husband in the eyes as I did it.

Her pussy lips were sealed with her glycine thick wetness. She widened her stance, reached back and drew a finger down her slit opening it for me. Her pink inside contrasted with the dark pubic hair she sported across her vagina and around her anus.

I could smell the richness from her pussy. I knew the room was filling with the smell of our sex, another minor victory for me as I hoped the odor, which we both loved, was proving offensive to him.

I placed my hands on her ass and moved forward. Her pussy lips were like a landing strip, and I walked myself forward sliding into her warmth where I belonged.

For her part, she kept her head down, letting her hair spill over. Unlike when we fucked in front of Gideon and she enjoyed watching his reaction, she chose to keep her eyes down, not wanting eye contact with The Bishop.

My cock was met with greasy sounds as I moved back and forth. In this position, her pussy was tight, and my cock went deep. I held myself inside simply for her pleasure, then out. Her sphincter, which we had put in play in the summer opened and closed with each thrust beckoning me to give it a taste of my cock, but we were here for procreation, so feeding that kitty was not on the menu.

It had been so long since we had been together like this, we knew either one of us would cum quickly. It was Mandy who went first.

She moaned long and low as she came. While my orgasm was required, hers only served to inflict emotional damage on The Bishop, who was hearing and seeing proof positive his wife wasn't in this just for my seed; she wanted the pleasure only I could provide.

I could have prolonged my orgasm, but I had done what I set out to do. I had pleasured his wife in front of him, and now I would impregnate her. Two things he was incapable of doing.

I let out a long, low groan as I watched The Bishop. I felt my pent-up seed pouring into her. Deep inside, I imagined it racing to every hollow spot, seeking her cervix and already pushing past.

Feeling me cum deep inside her caused Mandy's orgasm to roll on long and slow. I ran my hands across her back, massaging it. Her moans turned to more of a hum as she kept moving her ass, doing her best to keep me inside until she had milked me dry.

Our bodies came to a stop, and I slumped over her back.

Finally, I relaxed and gently pulled out. I could see the familiar wince in her face, not from pain, but from loss.

She rolled over, and I crawled forward. Her pussy, now filled with my seed, made another pssst sound. She held me tight.

She grasped my penis, coated in cum and her pleasure put the tip of it back in her pussy and gently masturbated it, coaxing a few last drops of my sperm.

We then lay there as I rolled back to get my breath. The room was silent, the air thick with our bodily aromas and the smell of the fireplace downstairs.

The Bishop rose from his chair, coming into the light created by the fire. He looked down on the two of us, and then took his right hand toward Mandy and slid a finger inside her.

Mandy shuddered as the intrusion had all the emotion of a gynecological exam. He removed his fingers and examined them. I could see he was looking to confirm that I had cum in his wife.

When satisfied, he wiped his fingers on the sheets and headed down the stairs to the big room.

I could hear him rummaging around downstairs as Mandy whispered to me.

"He's going to leave soon, so we'll be alone."

"What about the part where he has sex with you? That paternity nonsense he talked about."

"I'll go downstairs and take care of it. I don't want you to be a part of that."

I was grateful not to have to see him with her, but I was also worried. What if she liked being with him? A million thoughts went through my head.

Mandy got up and put on a robe.

"I'll come with you," I replied.

"No, you don't want to do that. I'll be right back."

She left me with a gentle kiss and walked down the stairs to get faux inseminated by that beast so he could pretend that my child was his.

Downstairs I could hear low voices, and I had to resist the urge to go down and intervene. I knew what he was doing to her.

I heard the door to the Chalet close, and then Mandy returned to the room. She was silent and resolved and sat down on the bed.

I moved in next to her and held her tight.

"Did he-"

She shook her head no.

"He tried," she began, "but he couldn't get an erection. Maybe the whisky."

"He's coming back tomorrow to try again."

"Let's get out of here. We can find another place. You can come back to Denver and be with me."

She moved in close to me and held on tight.

"You know how this works, Ethan. I can't just follow my heart."

"So, you admit you want to be with me."

"You know that."

"But I want to hear it from you, now."

She looked at me with sincere eyes that telegraphed her lost situation.

"I want to be with you forever..." she whispered.

Hearing those words filled me with hope. She loved me, just like I loved her. No more playing pretend; this was real.

She moved her body across me, straddling me. I could feel the wetness of our lovemaking on my cock, which had already grown past half mast. She leaned forward, allowing her folds to open and creating a path for me to reenter her.

"I want you to raise our children together," she said, "I want to raise your siblings as our children. I want you to give us another child."

These were my desires too, but in a few days, she would be gone, and it was unlikely I would ever see her again.

She let her body drop and my cock slid deep inside her. I wasn't sure what the future had in store for us, but The Bishop was gone, the fire was hot, and so were we.

I was always amazed how quickly I could refract with her.

CHAPTER 12

IT WAS HIM

The sun rose to reveal just how much snow had fallen during the night. We spent the day in our robes, enjoying time by the fire while watching the snow blanket the mountains. More than once, I started to fondle her, but she hesitated.

"I just want him to return and finish this part."

"Look at that snow, he's not going to drive up in this weather. Can you track him? Track his phone, see if he's on the move?"

"No, I'm not allowed to track his phone," she said.

The heavy snow offered us a sense of peace, knowing that he wouldn't drive until the weather improved.

It was our third day at the chalet, and we were still asleep when a persistent knocking woke us. Mandy threw on her sweats and went downstairs to see who was at the door.

I remained in the loft, listening to see if it was The Bishop.

It wasn't.

I looked outside to see two police four-wheel drive vehicles from the Telluride police department.

I snuck to the stairs to listen.

"There's been an accident. Your husband's vehicle went off the road about four miles from here. It tumbled down Blue Creek Canyon and-"

"My God, The Bishop! Is he okay?"

"The Bishop?"

"Rob Barton. My husband's church title is Bishop. Where is he? I'll get my coat."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, I wish I were here with better news, but-"

"Oh, God no. Please no. Don't say that..."

I tensed up listening to the officer breaking horrible news to Mandy.

"Looks like he went off the road about two days ago. The snow covered the tracks. With yesterday's melt, one of the plow guys spotted damaged trees, and when he went to investigate, he found the vehicle."

"There must be a mistake. He left here to go back to Denver for meetings."

The officers remained quiet.

"That has to be someone else's car," she continued, begging for it not to be true."

"No, ma'am, we have his phone and his belongings. From the looks of the accident and other evidence, we think he had been drinking."

"Well, he doesn't drink."

"Are you certain of that?"

"Perhaps on occasion."

The Sheriff looked at the bottle of bourbon on the counter.

Was he drinking when he left here?

"I didn't think he was drunk. I wouldn't have let him drive if he were."

"Who does that other car belong to?" the Sheriff asked. "Is it yours?"

"Umm, no. It's our lawyer's car."

I froze. The Bishop was dead. And she had just told the cops who owned the car in the driveway.

"Is he here? Can we speak to him?"

"No, my son's here. He borrowed the car to drive up from Denver to see us."

"Your son?"

"Gideon. He's upstairs. I think he's in the shower."

What the hell?

She had been telling the truth up until now.

Why did she just lie?

Perhaps she didn't want to explain why I was there. Maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction. But now, I was part of this event.

I dressed quietly, put on my winter coat, and stepped out of the chalet onto the hot tub deck. After that, I descended the steps and walked to the front of the chalet to see the police cars.

A deputy sheriff was leaning against his car.

"What's going on here?" I asked, pretending to be unaware.

"The Sheriff is inside speaking with the homeowner. May I ask who you are?"

I hesitated.

Should I tell the truth? I mean, why not?

"Your name?" he asked again.

"Gideon Barton. This is my parents' place. What's wrong?"

I could see why this guy remained outside. He was uncomfortable delivering bad news.

"Umm, nothing. Why don't you go inside? The Sheriff can explain to you."

I quickly entered to see Mandy sitting at a table, crying. She looked up at me and said...

"Gideon..."

"Mom," I replied. "What's going on?"

The Sheriff turned to me.

"And you are?"

"Gideon Barton. Mom, what's going on?"

The sheriff proceeded to tell me what he had told Mandy. And I pretended to be hearing it for the first time.

This was Academy Award-level acting on my part.

I went to Mandy and held her tight, making sure it was how a son would console his mother, not how a lover would.

I was determined to show heartbreak when, in fact, I was elated. I don't wish death on anyone. Well, almost anyone.

The Sheriff droned on and on about how sorry he was and that she needed to come to the morgue with him to identify the body. She agreed and asked if they could meet him there; she needed some time to prepare.

When the Sheriff left, Mandy and I stood quietly in the chalet. If ever there was a need for a shot of Whisky, it was now.

I took the bottle and poured a glass. She came over quickly, dumped it down the drain, and poured the bottle out.

"That's expensive stuff," I replied.

"My husband's dead because of this."

I looked at her long and hard.

"Was there something in the bottle, Mandy?"

"Yes, sin and destruction. I never want to smell whisky again. All those times after I was with you, he would come to me smelling of this stuff and finish himself in me. It was horrible. Promise me you'll never drink it."

"I'm not him."

"Promise me."

"Okay, I promise. I don't even like it that much."

She came to me when she felt I was sincere, and I embraced her tightly.

"I'm not sorry about what happened," I whispered.

I know it was too soon, but I needed to see if she felt any feelings for him.

"I have wished for this day pretty much since the first time you and I made love," she said, still holding me. "I'd never experienced anything like that."

"You said I was Gideon. Why lie to a police officer?"

"Do you think I should've said you were my fuck buddy? You were my inseminator?"

"So, what if you did?"

"I have an image to uphold. I'm a good woman of the church. This thing, you and me, The Bishop and all of it. It can't get out."

"It never will, but remember I'm a lawyer. Talk to me before you talk to anyone."

"Is it bad? What did I do? Is it bad?"

"No, he drank too much and drove off a mountain road. Hell, that hill is scary when sober."

I looked at her with assurance in my eyes.

Go in, identify him, and leave. If they want a statement, tell the truth: he left here two nights ago to go to Denver. He said he would come back, but with the snow, you weren't surprised when he didn't. There's no cell phone service up here, so you were unaware he was missing.

"What if there is an autopsy?"

"That's good, it'll prove he was drunk."

"I don't want an autopsy."

"Why?"

"I don't want to violate the sanctity of the body. It's my personal feeling. Besides, we know how he died. They know how he died."

"Fine, you can refuse an autopsy. But if you do, say it's for religious reasons."

"Well, it is."

"Just say it that way then."

I drove her to town, but did not go into the morgue with her.

She was in and out of the morgue fast. She exited with tears, and I saw her thanking a police officer for his kindness.

I wondered if I should intervene; the circumstances surrounding The Bishop's death were unclear, and a misstatement could bring unintended scrutiny.

But as she approached me, I could see a subtle smile. The tears were for show.

She got in the car and took a breath.

"It was him."

I breathed a sigh of relief, aware that The Bishop was out of my life and hers.

She held up his phone and handed it to me.

"Please destroy this."

I knew why; it contained the videos of The Bishop essentially forcing himself on her after each of our sessions—his attempt to provide evidence of paternity.

"Please don't watch any of it."

"That's the last thing I would ever want to do."

The challenging part was still ahead; she had to return to Provo and inform her family. She would also need to notify the church. This was going to be difficult, and she would have to face it alone.

We drove to my apartment in Denver and made plane reservations for the morning.

"I'll accompany you home," I offered.

"No, I'll do this part alone. But you should show up in a few days to console me. Friend of the family and all."

She was building the next stage of her life.

"And after I console you?"

"We build our relationship organically. You're there to help; we find each other in need. And it develops."

"This sounds like an alibi."

"Because it is. Not because of The Bishop and how he met his end. But I'm a devoted LDS mother of six. I've lost my husband. I need to grieve, and that takes time."

She was cunningly calculating, and I was glad to be on her side of the equation.

I agreed to her terms, just as I had on the first day we had sex.

If a slow roll were needed for us to be a couple, I'd pass the time well, knowing we would be together.

CHAPTER 13

IS THERE SOMETHING YOU WANT TO TELL ME

I sat on the couch, exhausted. Tomorrow, she'd return to Provo, and I'd follow in a week.

I regretted my demand to have The Bishop watch us, but no matter how hard I tried, I did not regret his death. Still, the circumstances could be problematic for her or even me.

She was in the other room, talking to family and breaking the news. I couldn't be a part of that.

I saw her purse on the couch and intended to bring it to her. It was open, and while I'm not one to snoop, I casually looked inside.

Inside, she had an assortment of items: lip balm, her wallet, some lotions, lipstick, a few makeup items, and a box with the Pfizer logo. I examined it. It was the Xanax she occasionally took.

I was impressed she could sit in the car with The Bishop for four hours as he drove her to see me. I imagined the two Xanaxes she took before she left helped her through the trip.

The prescription was for 25 pills. It was a box that contained five sheets, each with five tablets, the kind you punch out as you take them.

The sheet had three pills missing.

I saw her standing in the bedroom doorway, looking at me.

"You're looking in my purse?"

"What? No. I'm just- "

"It's okay if you do. You and I don't have any secrets."

She walked over to me and took the purse, then pulled out the Xanax.

"I need to throw these out."

"Why? Is there something you want to tell me?"

She held up a pee on the stick pregnancy test with a bright blue plus sign.

"Not good for our baby," she said with a smile.

You're...?

She nodded her head yes.

"Is this the right time? I mean with all that's happened and everything ahead..."

"It's the best possible thing. It's what I wanted."

"What we wanted," I added in.

She needed to know I was onboard.

I embraced her tightly. Our last few days had gone from bliss to horror, and this news was a light at the end of a dark tunnel.

She had it all thought out, as if she had planned this for months.

She would return home and mourn with her family. There would be sadness in the community. The Bishop's accident would be attributed to icy roads, not to drinking.

I drove her to the airport, and she kissed me goodbye in that special way you do when someone you love is leaving for an uncertain amount of time.

It's a kiss you remember because, when it ends, it feels like the beginning of a story that will finally find closure when we kiss again.

I followed her request and disposed of the Xanax. It was then that I noticed there were only four sheets in the box, not the prescribed five. She had kept one.

The upcoming weeks would be challenging, but she would need to cope without medication for the sake of the baby.

I called her when she landed in Salt Lake.

"I know about the Xanax," I told her.

"How? What did you-"

"You can't take them now. You know that. I know you're depressed, I know you need to sleep. But please don't take anything that could hurt our child."

There was a long pause as she considered what I said.

"You're right," she replied. "I was weak, and I thought I might need them when I went to the temple. But I'm throwing them in the garbage right now. Gone."

There was quiet on the line.

"You trust me, don't you?" she asked.

"You know I do. I'll be there next week. I'll help you through this."

"I love you," she said.

"You know I do, too. I'll help you through this, I promise."

"You already have," she replied, and we ended the conversation.

When she returned home, the support she received was overwhelming. Her children took the news in stride, which made me wonder if they lived in fear of the man who claimed to be their father. Perhaps they had some sixth sense about the fact he was an interloper.

I arrived a week later and began the process of organizing The Bishop's estate. To achieve this, I needed to spend countless hours with the widow Barton.

CHAPTER 14

A FATHER OF SEVEN

The Bishop was three months buried when she announced her pregnancy.

He was seven months dead when she and I went out together in public.

He was nine months dead when our daughter, Eliza, was born, and it was just over a year ago when Mandy and I were married. I adopted my two biological children and my five biological siblings, making me a father of seven.

We sold two homes in Provo and bought a spacious house in Littleton where I could commute to Denver while Mandy could raise our children.

As her lawyer, I was finally putting the last of The Bishop's affairs to rest. The only thing left to do was sell the Telluride chalet. Despite it being the site of our youngest child's conception, Mandy had no desire to return there, so I went alone to meet the realtor and sign the papers.

When I arrived, she had a roaring fire and was setting up for a prospective buyer.

As I signed several legal documents, I clumsily dropped my pen, which rolled under the couch. I got down on the floor, reached underneath, and found the pen—and something else: an empty sheet of Xanax pills. All five tablets had been removed from the foil tabs.

The missing sheet of Xanax. The ones Mandy claimed to have taken back home and then thrown away.

There's no way to prove these pills came from her prescription. For all I knew, they could have been under that couch for 10 years.

I looked up at the loft, remembering the last time I saw The Bishop as he demanded I inseminate his wife from behind, and remembered how I wished him dead in that moment.

I tossed the empty sheet of Xanax tablets in the fire, watched it burn, thanked the realtor, and drove home to be with my family and make love to my devoted wife.

THE END

If you enjoyed this story, please read my Portmanteau stories.

Portmanteau: Episode One

Portmanteau: More Than A Feeling

Portmanteau: Gone Hollywood

Portmanteau: Gone Hollywood

Portmanteau: Not Sleep Till Brooklyn

Or take a look at the rest of my work. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Stories By Wendy Trilby