Pussy for Dessert

What I am about to tell you some would consider profane behavior, as it involves a pastor's wife. But it is not about a wayward wife. It is about human nature.

I am not a particularly religious man. I went to Church services every Sunday and participated in Church social activities as it pleased my wife. It is a large congregation, wealthy enough to support several pastors, plus a very large orchestra and choir. One of the pastors' wives drew my attention at my very first service. She was the lead singer of the choir. Gwen had a rich, powerful, soprano voice, which belied her petite stature. I wondered how could such a small woman have that kind of voice.

In contrast, there was nothing remarkable about her appearance. She had a plain face, framed by long chestnut-colored hair

equally divided and flowing over front shoulders and back. A common hair style. She used hardly any cosmetics and dressed conservatively. Regardless of the season, she wore ankle-length or well-below-the-knee skirts, and blouses that did not reveal her cleavage or the shape of her breasts. Her hips and shoulders were wide, suggesting, a stocky figure, but it was a guessing game about what she might look like unclothed. At first glance, she had little sex appeal, except for her voice which captivated me. It was highly melodic, even in social conversations.

Gwen and her husband Harold were middle-aged. He was in charge of conferences, retreats and missionary trips, so he traveled quite a lot. My wife was in the choir and supported Gwen's many charitable and social activities. We got to know this couple well over the years. She was gracious and engaging whenever we met.

My wife of course knew a lot more about Gwen. She explained that Gwen had trained to be a professional singer, which explained her vocal talent. She had foresaken her career to marry Harold. My wife said Gwen's public persona was deceiving. She was thiner than she looked because she wore padded and non-descript clothing. All to reflect what she thought was becoming to a pastor's wife.

When my wife passed away, while we both were pushing 60 years of age, I continued to attend Church services. It had become a habit and I had nothing to do anyway on Sunday mornings. And I did enjoy the music but I bowed out of the social activities. I needed time to adjust to being alone.

Early in my bereavement period, Gwen and two other ladies visited my home to extend condolences. They encouraged me to attend the Church social activities, which I had been avoiding. A few months afterward, I decided it was time to get on with my life by going to the next Church supper.

All this time, I had not given a single lascivious thought about Gwen. I had had a very good sex life with my wife. I had no reason or urge to stray. Even if I had, I would hardly have dared to seduce a pastor's wife. I was now in a position to set my sights on the sexually attractive women in our congregation. Although I liked Gwen and enjoyed hearing her voice, I still did not think of her as a potential conquest. Or had an interest in seducing a married woman.

In the pre-supper gathering, Gwen and others asked if I was adjusting to being a widower. Nothing more than that, though she patted my arm in a friendly gesture. Typically, even though it was a warm July evening, Gwen was more formally attired than the other women.

I didn't talk to her during the meal. She was seated at a different table but afterwards, we had a brief conversation.

"If you want a home-cooked meal, drop by our home next Tuesday evening around 6PM. Harold will be out of town, so I would welcome the company."

I was surprised and asked who else would be there. I did not think it proper to be alone with a pastor's wife.

"I can guess what you are thinking, John. Don't worry about that. Harold doesn't mind. I'll explain sometime. The neigbors might, so don't park in our driveway."

I accepted her invitation with some reservations. She wanted to know my favorite food. In the past, we had discovered we both liked Italian cuisine, so I said I would welcome a pasta dish.

I was still mulling over the reasons she invited me as I walked to her home, having parked a block away. She was a kind woman, so maybe she wanted to befriend a lonely man. Several couples had already extended me dinner invitations.

When she greeted me at the door, I was non-plussed. This was not the woman I saw at Church or socially. Her hair was drawn back into a pony tail, her cheeks were lightly rouged and she had applied lipstick. But what took me completely aback was her figure now revealed by a skimpy summer dress, pinched at the waist to accentuate an hour-glass figure. The scooped top displayed the silhouette of full breasts. The above-the-knee hem revealed shapely, long bare legs, and she was wearing sandals, to complete her appearance.

"You looked suprised," she smiled.

"I have never seen you dressed this way,"

"I dress casually at home for visitors and friends. Because of my position, I have to keep a more formal appearance in public. I'm sure you can understand," she replied.

Leading me to their dining room, she explained that dinner was all set. They could have coffee and dessert in the living room to chat more freely.

She had prepared an excellent dinner. Vichyssoise soup, a salad and a pasta dish with Bolognese sauce, which I know is not easy to prepare properly. She said a fruit tart was cooling for our dessert. She would give me a portion of the Bolognese sauce to take home.

Our conversation at dinner was benign. Hardly worth mentioning. In the living room, we sat on her sofa. She had kicked off her sandals and tucked her legs under thighs, turning to me for conversation.

In a cautious manner, I did not mince words. "You mentioned that I should not be concerned about seeing you alone. Does Harold approve?"

"I am pleased you broached this topic. It proves you are a empathetic and thoughtful man. You are aware we are childless?"

"Yes, I wondered about that. Didn't you want children or is there some medical reason?"

"Medical," she replied. "After we were married, we were assigned to India where Harold contracted a grave disease. Upon recovery, he learned he was impotent."

She paused for me to ponder the ramifications. It all made sense now. She was sounding me out as a potential lover.

I gave her leeway to expand on that angle. "That must have caused a lot of stress in your marriage. How did you cope?"

"We adjusted quite well. Harold recognized my needs and approved of my having special male friends. I am very selective and prudent."

She went on to say that she had had special friends wherever they had served. But she had not had one in recent years.

"I assume you are considering me as a special friend. But why choose me?"

"You are a very good candidate, as I do not get involved with married men. I prefer older men, especially widowers, as I have learned that older men are considerate and patient. They try hard to please their ladies. They are very discreet, as well."

I told her I felt flattered, which prompted her to say:

"You need to tell me if you find me desirable. Be honest. I know I am not a pretty woman but I know how to please a man."

"You are attractive in many ways, Gwen, You have a flawless complexion and a fine figure. I like to hear your voice; it is delightful. I also value your need for discretion."

" Well that's all settled. You can kiss me now,"

I did not hesitate. I scooted over to kiss her. She was eager to French.

Her long tongue snaked into my mouth and her hands were busy, too. She cradled the back of my head with one hand. unbuttoning my shirt, she rubbed my bare chest with the palm of her other hand in a circular motion. We Frenched and played dueling tongues.

I slid one strap of her dress off her shoulder. That maneuver bared a breast immediately, because her dress was the kind that had built-in bra cups. While we Frenched I fondled her firm breast and tweaked the nipple, before breaking off our tongue play to suck her nipple. Responding, she sighed.

Her flesh was firm and silky. I was inspired to compliment her and advance our foreplay.

"You have lovely, soft skin."

"I'd like to kiss every inch of your body."

"Every inch," she asked, raising her brows, with a gleam in her eye.

"Especially there, " I demonstrated by caressing the lower part of her stomach, just on the edge of her mound.

"John, you are a naughty, naughty man," she chortled. "You really want to kiss my vagina," she teased.

She had not flinched so far, so I took the risk of offending her sensibilities.

"I want to eat your pussy, Gwen."

To my relief, she replied enthusiastically."

"What woman would pass up a chance for that?" she said rhetorically.

Without a pause, she sprang off the couch. She raised her skirt, slipped her panties off, bundled her skirt above her waist and flung herself back on the couch. She bent her knees, planted her feet on the sofa, and spread her legs wide. Lying back, she beckoned and offered her pussy.

"Change in menu. You can have a new dessert now!" she lustily blurted out.

She had acted so quickly, I was startled but promptly took up her invitation.

I knelt and exclaimed:

"What a gorgeous pussy you have."

It was a tight slit covered with a thicket of curly hair.

I inhaled her musk and began by licking the insides of her thighs to the edge of her entrance. Up and down each thigh, until I heard her sigh.

By now her pussy hair began to gleam with her sucretions. Gently I parted her lips, and inserted my tongue. Each thrust evoked a series of moans.

When I popped her clit and sucked the tip, she screamed in joy. With both hands she pressed my head to her pussy.

" Keep that up, just like that. Don't stop! I'm almost there!" she shouted, thoroughly aroused.

Locked between her thighs, I could barely breathe, but obeyed energetically.

She threw her head back,

and climaxed loudly. Her lovely voice was far more passionate than when she sang in the choir. It thrilled me no end.

Catching her breath, she said:

"That was glorious! You're quite the lover! But I do not want to be selfish. Take me, quickly!"

I was eager to comply as I was fully erect. I arose, dropped my trousers and shorts, placed her legs over my shoulders and was able to enter her easily. Her pussy was tight but now highly lubricated. I fucked her forcefully. From my rapid pace and grunts, she sensed my urgency and begged me:

" Wait for me! Wait for me! Let me go first!"

I could not last longer, so I pleaded:

"Cum for me! I've got to let go."

Digging her nails into my shoulders, she moved her hips to match my pace, until she unleashed an ecstatic wail. I followed shortly with a deep groan:

"My God, your're a hot woman. Your're sexy as hell!" I exclaimed.

"Well, it's been a while. I like to screw," she grinned.

More provocatively, she added, "I'm glad you enjoyed your dessert and the other courses, " she smirked.

Changing her mood, she said she would like to invite me to stay longer but she had not been certain how the evening would turn out, so made a commitment to call Harold later. She said I was a great lover and wanted me to be her special friend.

"Harold will leave next week for a ten-day trip to Guatemala. We can spend more time together then."

She added, "I have nosy neighbors, so please park along the street behind our home and use the back door."

When I know someone well, I have a ribald sense of humor.

"Oh! you prefer rear entry?" I quipped.

"Keep that thought," she laughed.

We got dressed, she gave a container of Bolognese sauce and the entire fruit tart we never ate. She walked me to the front door and she kissed my cheek, saying she looked forward to my next visit.

I would be counting the days until her husband went to Guatemala. I now was curious to explore the extent of her sexual interests. Did she like to suck cock and did she swallow? A good starting point. She had used a few lady-like sexual words but how much dirty talk would she engage in or tolerate? I was eager to find out.

I was a little uneasy about cuckolding Harold. But I rationalized that the couple had engaged in their life style for many years and were content.. They were taking a risk but it was not for me to be judgemental, because of their Church affiliation.