Susanna Cox drove through rush hour traffic on the way to her first call of the day. It was clear and cold, a few dreamy clouds sailing above, and the other drivers were preoccupied with their task as seen through their windows. She wondered what her day would be like, what adventures waited for her. She was dressed professionally in a grew pantsuit in deference to her first call, Fr. Tom Albrectssen, pastor of a large suburban parish, and later she would be seeing Fr. Tom Zebedee at a parish by the coast.
Fr. Christian Farnsworth called her cell phone. “Hi Susie, how’s traffic?”
“SSDD. What’s my schedule like today?”
“Well, I’m surprised Tom’s going for this. He has a reputation for being a workaholic, and even at clergy meetings and retreats, he’s in constant contact with his office. He’s plopped for level 2.5, so be good to him.”
“I’m good to all my lovely boys.”
“Yeah, me too. This afternoon’s Tom is a different sort, very quiet and reflective. He’s at level 4, so have fun. Tomorrow’s meetings are level 1’s, so don’t wear out your arm today.”
“Very funny. I’m already getting tennis elbow.”
“Tennis elbow? Hand jobs are nothing like tennis.”
“Kidding. How’s your day?”
“Classroom visits, which will be fun; if they misbehave, I leave. Then long meetings on getting the parking lot repaved. I may need to take my Scotch intravenously this evening.”
“Well, don’t have too much fun. Bye.”
Her exit arrived; Susie was able to pull away from the horde and wend her way through the subdivisions to find the parish. With a little trouble, she found it, a concrete monstrosity from the ’80s. If the pastor gave her a loving tour, she would have to force a smile. Pulling into the parking lot, she rang the doorbell and was buzzed through to the office.
“Oh, yes, you’re his third appointment today. 9:00. He’s with the principal and vice principal right now; I’ll let you know what it’s done. Have a seat.”
She crossed her legs and leafed through the devotional pamphlets and missionary magazines; the same as she found every place she went. The minutes crawled by, and her mouth salivated a little. Anticipating the feel of a soft, fragrant cock in her mouth always made her tingle. 9:15 passed, followed by 9:30 and 9:45 before a buzz from the inner sanctum signaled her admission.
Fr. Tom Albrechtssen was a tall man in his early 50’s, with a clean shaven head, a small stomach pauch, and ears that avcılar escort stuck out dramatically from his head. His hands were soft and his fingers long, and well groomed. He led her down a long hallway to a huge office at the end of the hallway. It was rather ordinary: double sized with rather functional furniture and chairs, a table with six seats for small meetings, and a huge, antique desk in front of a bookcase full of dusty tomes.
“Now, Ms. Cox, if you would get under the desk.” He spoke with a calm, business like tone, as if he were asking for more information from a financial report.
He shook his head. “I believe the arrangement is for oral sex ending in orgasm. It is something I have had great difficulty finding in my life, but have always dreamed of receiving. You are agreeable, so please, Ms. Cox, I await your availability. If you would please get under the desk.”
“I thought. . .you might like. . .some. . .foreplay.”
He shook his head again. “I have been ready since the arrangement was made; it took all my self control not to masturbate for the past three days. The idea of your soft and inviting mouth around my member is something that even now leaves me breathless.”
“You don’t. . .want to see. . my tits or anything.”
He looked at the ceiling as he thought through her offer. Nodding, he said: “That would be rather nice. Yes, open your blouse and show me your mammalian protuberances.”
He stood there, arms crossed, waiting. Slowly and with trembling fingers, she undid her buttons from the bottom up, pulling her lace blouse aside to reveal her lacy bra. He nodded, and she pulled it up, letting her perk breasts come into view.
“Your breasts are lovely, Ms. Cox. The sight of them is most welcome. Perfectly proportioned, delicately curved, the nipples an excellent shade of pink, and most inviting. Perhaps I shall consider upgrading my commitment. In the meantime, we need to proceed to business. If you would get under the desk, please?”
Susie went around behind the desk, and saw the underside was cavernous. She easily sat back on her heels without bumping her head as she pulled herself inside. He sat down, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his fly.
Shaking her head, she reached in to find him, and discovered a shriveled little worm laying between his legs. Kissing his thighs, the worm began to stir, and she pulled back the turtleneck ataköy escort to reveal a glistening little bud. Smiling to herself, she said: “Little turtle, little turtle you don’t have to be so slow. Little turtle, little turtle, do you need a little blow?”
She sent a stream of cool air over the ember, and it began to glow. Her deft fingers adjusted it and encouraged it, and it responded, swelling up twice its size. Looking up at him through the desk, she decided not to delay her task, and began stroking the turtleneck and licking the underside.
Above, she heard him hit the intercom. “Ms. Short, when is my next appointment?”
A voice crackled: “10:30, Father. Mrs. Cole from the Catholic Daughters, about the mass and luncheon tomorrow.”
“Right. Let me know when she’s here.”
It was strange: she heard the shuffle of papers and the scratching of his pen; it was a different world above than where she was. She swirled her tongue around the foreskin, and got a spurt of appreciation. Her hand fondled his tiny, hairless grapes. From time to time, she heard a page being turned and more scratching; she couldn’t imagine how he could focus on something else while getting a blow job.
If that’s the way he wanted to be, she’d show him. Taking a deep breath, she attacked his cock, giving it the most stimulation she could, cupping his buttocks though his trousers, swirling her tongue around his turtle like a Midwest tornado, until she heard his breathing get deeper. A few frantic strokes, and she returned to her tornadic stimulation.
His pen clattered from his hand to the table, and he began to shake all over. She kept up her work, wetting her index finger and slipping it in his asshole. Finding his prostate, she worked it and within 30 seconds he erupted, filling her mouth with three days abstinence. She struggled to swallow it all, dribbling a stream from the side of her mouth.
He gasped and his head thrust back. The last drops escaped the turtle’s mouth, and he started moaning loudly as his libido settled back to its usual level.
“That was delightful, Ms. Cox. I look forward to your visit on Thursday.”
With that, she was dismissed.
The next appointment was for lunch, so Susie went directly to her next appointment on the coast. The view from St. Benedict’s and the rectory was astounding. Fr. Tom Zebedee was an aging hippie; he greeted her with a clerical shirt, blue bahçelievler escort jeans, and a pair of bare feet stuck into sandals. “Come in, Ms. Cox. Would you care for a drink?”
“Yes, I would. Anything you have would be fine.”
“We have some spring water and pure grain alcohol.”
“Are you General Ripper from ‘Dr. Strangelove’?”
“No, but wasn’t that a wonderful movie? I also have fixings for a Bloody Mary.”
“Sounds great. Make it a double.”
“Oh. Something to cleanse the palate?”
“You have no idea.”
Lunch was served in a dining room overlooking the beach; cheese omelets with a fabulous salad and a fresh Baguette and cream cheese. Fr. Zebedee was witty and bright, making Susie laugh repeatedly. The sun shone on the surging waters, and Susie wondered what her host had in mind for her. After the morning’s staid labors, she was ready for something different.
At last, Tom took the dishes to the kitchen and got down to business. “What I’d like to do, Susie, is take some pictures of you–naked.”
“But I don’t look good naked.”
“You’re real. I don’t care if you’ve got imperfections; you have a beauty that comes from within.”
“What guarantee do I have that you won’t post these pictures on the Internet?”
Tom looked aside, then back at her. “I told Chris what I wanted to do, and he agreed as long as you would say yes. He said he’d keep an eye out if I broke my promise, and if I did, he’d cut my nuts off.”
She laughed. He smiled: “Well, maybe not that far, but I won’t give you a release to sign. These pics are only for my masturbation later.”
“That’s all right, then. If you’ll beat your meat to the sight of my body for the rest of your life, I’ll let you take my pictures.” Another round of laughter.
After a few shots before a roaring fire, he brought out a bottle of canola oil. “Would you consider oiling up?”
“All of you.”
Susie glistened in the light, posing on a pedestal he brought out. They giggled regularly as more Bloody Marys were concocted and consumed; Tom took off his clothes except his sandals, and after an hour of raucous fun, he called a halt to the photoshoot.
“Is that everything?” Susie asked, giggling.
“No,” he replied, breaking into hysterical laughter. “I’d like to put my cock in all your holes.”
Another round of laughter. “How soon?” she asked.
“How about. . .now?”
“Sure.” Susie came down from the pedestal and engulfed his cock eagerly. It was average length twice as thick as usual. She was worried about the culmination of their endeavor, but after he pumped her until she orgasmed, he worked a large quantity of canola oil into her rectum, and filled her nether region with his proud pole until he sent a large pool of semen deep into her colon.