Church Lov’n

By Bardot1990. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels.

Annie’s new swim mate

 “God dammit, Chowlie! Stop Play’n round wid it! Put it in me!”

Miriam

Thompkins was too through with Charles Nelson Leone. He was toying with

her punani from behind using the tip of his cock when, by her

reckoning, he ought to have been using it as a ramrod.

The

two of them had sneaked upstairs to the "segregated" balcony after the

conclusion of church services at the Episcopal Church. Scores of

parishioners, black and white, were downstairs socializing separately,

according to the laws of East Louisiana in 1844. Charlie's friend (and

owner) Ben Leone had sneaked off to a basement closet where he'd

scheduled a tryst with his cousin Janice.

In a different basement closet

Jake Leone had Pete Harkness' sister Fanny on tap. Charlie and Miriam,

slaves from different farms, squeezed up into the church bell tower

singly after Miriam poked her tongue into her cheek during the service

and rolled her eyes skyward to signal a meet. The small room was a tight

fit.

Miriam & Charlie.

Miriam's

two sisters (the three were triplets) were under strict orders to cover

for an absence Miriam estimated would take no more than ten minutes.

Church service or no, Miriam's punani required attention. Charlie

happened to be in attendance that Sunday with his mother and siblings.

He didn't attend church often. Miriam thought this might be her only

chance at him.

Up

in the church bell tower, Miriam's skirt was scooched up around her

waist. Her rounded, naked ass was on full display. Charlie's cock bulged

outwardly from a crease in his rugged pantaloons, twelve inches of

solid muscle striving to invest itself of the fragrant crease in

Miriam's groin. He gripped his cock by its base as he painted her

southern cleft with the aromatic juices oozing from her chocolate

vagina, coating his pud in her opulence. His purple-black cock pulsed

virulently.

"We ain’t got much time, Chowlie. If I'd knowed you wuz gwine play 'round wid it like some kid, I'd-a axed somebody else!"

"We

ain't never did it before, Miri. Dis de fust time! If I jist put it in

quick, an cum. Does you wants dat? An' den you-a go back an' tells your

sisters I cain't fuck."

"AH'

ma do dat anyways, Chollie. What dat got to do wit' you? If I wasn't

already ready to fuck, I wouldn't-a axed you to follow me up here! You

sees how wet ahm is!"

"You is mighty wet, gal. You blowin' bubbles!" Charlie chuckled.

"Dat’s

right, boy. An' you ain't tendin' 'em proper! Put it in, dog gonnit!

An' let's finish up before my Ma comes lookin' for me."

She

preened upward on her tippy toes to offer him a better angle of

insertion. Charlie released his grip on his cock as Miriam's labia gaped

open. With the barest trace of a thrust, Charlie's muscular cock

disappeared into her hole. Miriam groaned with satisfaction. Her head

floated backward onto her shoulder blades as she suppressed a scream of

wanton fervor.

"Finally"

She

hilted him in one go. When he withdrew, his entire cock was coated in

her crystal effervescence, steamy, hot and bubbling. Her punani dripped

with urgency. Charlie plunged forward to tap her cervix again,

luxuriating in her heat and the newness of their intercourse. This was

always the best time, that first cruise up the slippery pink baby chute

of a pretty girl.

Miriam

began to tremble. Her muscles stood out in contrast to her normally

svelte skin. She hadn't been kidding. She was already on the verge of

release not ten seconds in.

"Not yet, Priscilla! Not yet!" Miriam importuned silently.

(Priscilla was the given name of Miriam's punani. Miriam spoke to Priscilla often as if Priscilla were a real person.)

"This is gonna be quick!" Charlie thought grimly.

He gripped her ass and roiled his cock in conjunction with her increasingly strident pelvic ululations.

In

truth, Miriam had been building a foundation for Priscilla's detonation

all throughout the church service. Ignoring the sermon, Miriam's mind

drifted. She fondly recalled her encounter with Bennett Leone the month

before despite feeling hugely put upon by its abrupt conclusion. The

details of that tryst were fresh in her mind. Young Master Leone was

downstairs just now, sitting in a pew with his family. She could see his

unruly shock of rusty red hair from her seat in the balcony.

She

remembered how he'd fucked her roughly that night at the swimming hole,

slamming his cock the length of her cunt with manly precision as her

sisters looked on. He'd fucked Beulah and Dinah, too, before standing up

to Priscilla's challenge. Miriam mounted him and gave as good as she'd

gotten. Even now she could almost feel Ben's testicles flopping against

her taint as she rocked him from her mount atop Chawlie’s purpled cock.

They'd assailed each other that night, weaving an intricate web of fuck

thunder that served Miriam's masturbatory fantasies for weeks afterward.

"Fuck me! Fuck Me!” she meditated with passion.

It

was a good thing that Miriam hadn't given voice to her silent

remembrances, lest the church services be disrupted with scandal.

Priscilla

heard Miriam's salacious musings, though, and responded accordingly.

She gushed alive, overflowing with the aromatic juices of Miriam's

private lust.

Miriam

anticipated this problem. Some weeks back she'd allowed her attention

to wander during church services in much the same manner. The result had

been a large, wet stain on the back of her church dress, a wetness that

she didn't notice until she returned from her secret world of sexual

fantasy. As services concluded she'd immediately employed her sisters to

block the view of onlookers while she exited the sanctuary. She'd

promptly raced to the first available bench and sat there while the

blotch dried.

Miriam had been mortified that day. Her sisters just laughed.

Ever

resourceful, Miriam now came to church with a thick cotton pad situated

under her dress between Priscilla and her seat. Priscilla could still

drip during the sermon, but most of her issue would be sopped up. Only

the front of Miriam's bloomers would wetten. This, she thought, was an

acceptable compromise, especially insofar as, with proper positioning,

that leak wouldn't stain the front of her dress.

Charlie

Leone sat with his family in another section of the 'segregation'

balcony. He was dressed in his work clothes. He didn't have much else.

As Miriam floated at plateau, unable to complete Priscilla's desire with

mere remembrance fantasy, Charlie's attention, too, wandered. He peered

about the church sleepily, wondering when this dreary 'white folks'

sermon would come to an end.

Something unusual caught his eye.

It was Miriam Thompkins. She was gazing intently in his direction, hoping to attract his attention. He saw her, but he didn't see her. It was the cheek poke that disrupted his absent-minded reverie. Had he actually seen that? In church?

Slowly,

he allowed his eyes to drift up to hers. Maybe she was just cleaning

her teeth. Maybe he'd mistaken her intent. Their eyes met.

There it was again!

Miriam

drove her tongue into her left cheek twice to simulate female fellatio.

Everybody knew what the cheek poke meant. Charlie met her gaze seeking

confirmation. What he received by way of reply was the ‘How many times is I gots to offur before you says yes?’ look. Her non-verbal communication was clear. Miriam followed this with a surreptitious nod to the bell tower upstairs.

A booty call in church! There was punani in the offing! Charlie's face broadened into a wide grin.

"I gots to start comin' to church mo' often!"

Miriam rolled her eyes.

"It's about time."

She'd been trying to attract his attention for at least a half hour now.

Charlie responded with another cheek poke, a single, into his left cheek. Miriam nodded demurely. The meeting was set.

Of

course, Ben had already given Charlie the details of his conquest of

the Thompkins triplets. He'd fucked the shit out of all three girls (by

his telling) and left them rapturously unconscious at the swimming hole,

dripping cock honey from every orifice. And he was going to do it to

them again the first chance he got. Did Charlie want in on the action?

What does one say to an offer like that? Charlie accepted.

Miriam's

church foray changed things a bit. It bypassed Ben's introduction,

cutting out the middleman. Miriam's cheek poke booty call was Charlie's

chance to "tap dat ass" on his own terms.

Charlie

didn't expect to see Ben after church. He knew that Ben would probably

be doin' it to some girl down in the basement. (Ben gave Charlie all

those details, too.) Here, now, was a chance for Charlie to surprise Ben

with a church fuck story of his own. The chief triplet had actually

given him the cheek poke! Charlie's cock stirred.

"How much longer is dis guy gon' preach?!" Charlie wondered with exasperation.

After

the final benediction Charlie waited in his seat while his mother,

siblings and the other Negroes cleared the balcony. He pretended to get

in the line to descend the stairs but he lingered back, allowing anyone

and everyone to take his spot in line. He'd already seen Miriam dart

behind a column to a hallway leading to the belfry ladder. He kept a

sharp eye to see if anyone had noticed her. No one had.

Her two sisters were eyeing him. They obviously knew of Miriam's plans. Charlie gave them a knowing smile.

"I'm gon' fuck yo' sister. I'm gon' fuck de shid owda her."

They

seemed to be a bit overly pleased at this unspoken but clearly

communicated news. Charlie was a little perplexed. Most girls sneer when

another girl's insidious plans come to fruition. Dinah and Beulah

seemed positively giddy. Was something going on that he didn't know

about? The triplets hadn't given him any indications prior to this. He'd

seen them on occasion and come away with not so much as a wink. Charlie

became slightly suspicious.

"Sumpn's goin' on."

He

waited until the balcony cleared, even deigning to descend the

staircase himself before declaring (within earshot of everyone milling

about):

"I fo'git my Bible upstairs. Be right back."

No

one thought it strange that a black man who couldn't read had brought a

Bible to church. Charlie ascended the stairwell two steps at a time.

His disappearance was soon forgotten in the jocularity of the after

church fellowshipping.

Charlie

arrived in the bell tower to find an impatient Miriam Thompkins, arms

crossed and feet tapping, after the manner of black women who have

something to do and someplace to be and not enough time to do both. She

looked past him to see if he'd been followed. Charlie closed the trap

door in the floor behind him. Only then did Miriam turn, scooch her

dress up and pull her bloomers to the floor. Charlie was taken aback.

"I, I thought you wuz gwine." he stammered.

"You

thought I wuz gwine suck yo' cock?" Miriam countered. "We ain't got

time fo' dat right now. Take too long. Too many people around. I need

you to, you know."

"To what?"

"To fuck me, Chollie. Don't play dumb. Is ah'm wagglin' my tooncey in de air fo' nuttin'?"

"Me? Here?"

"Boy! Is you wants de poosy or ain't you! I can get somebody else."

"I, I" Charlie stammered again.

"You ain't want no poosy. Somebody lied to me."

Miriam reached down and resolutely pulled her bloomers up.

"No, I'll take it. I'll take it!" Charlie assured her.

Miriam stopped re-dressing.

"Well?"

Charlie

stepped to her and pulled her bloomers back down. In the process the

aroma of her sex became evident. His cock, already prickly with the

prospect of penetration, lumbered awake. It found the crease in his

pantaloons and peeked out without assistance. Miriam saw it emerge. She

gripped his pud, twisted and squeezed. In seconds his cock bloomed

erect, pouring forth like a hooded forest cobra.

"Hmm," Miriam observed. "At least dey ain't lie 'bout dat much. You do gots a big un."

"Who is 'dey'?" Charlie asked.

"Niggy, don't axe dumb questions. You see dis?"

(Here she pointed to her punani with her middle finger.)

"Put, you cock, in ,here! Dass all you needs to know."

She

preened up on her toes to expose Priscilla more fully. Charlie could

sense the heat emanating from Miriam's hairy babymaker. She didn't

appear to require much foreplay.

Priscilla was a snapper.

Bennett Does Jennifer.

Downstairs

in the church basement, Bennett Leone was already mounted over Janice

Leone's freckled ginger ass. Her huge crop of crimson pubic hair bulged

outward from her vulva giving the impression that he was fornicating

with a bear cub. Ben aimed the tip of his cock into her mass of curly

labial tresses hoping to find a vagina at the bottom of it. It seemed an

interminable passage, fraught with peril for the uninitiated.

Once

past her silky jungle, however, Jenny's vaginal credentials were

unparalleled. Her pussy ranked up there with the best of them. It was

fresh and warm and wet. It contrasted nicely with Jenny's outwardly

frosty demeanor. Ben fucked her from behind. He reached around front,

using his thumb and forefinger to masturbate her engorged super-clitoris

like a man, just as she'd taught him. He pulled her clitoral foreskin

back and forth over her penile nub. This sensation, in concert with his

thick, intrusive cock, wafted the girl aloft into an insensate realm of

carnality where she lingered and lingered, sampling the electric

impulses to be found there. Bennett used her pussy to masturbate his

cock, twirling circlets into her love canal as she suckled his thrusts.

They were old hands at this. Sunday was their day to re-acquaint

themselves.

Unlike

Miriam up in the bell tower, Jenny was in no hurry. It would be a week

before she could meet with Ben like this again. They'd successfully

fucked in this manner so often that the fear of discovery was a distant

memory.

When

Jenny felt herself nearing the tipping point she simply eased her pussy

off Ben's cock, turned and sucked him. She knew he wouldn't cum until

she was ready.

On his cock was the aroma of her carnal universe. Succulent. Heady. Deeply arousing. It was addictive.

She slobbered bubbles along his shaft, then stood and pointed his cock into her stinkness.

"It needs some seasoning," she reasoned.

There

was a marked difference between Jenny's rectum and her poochipap. From

Ben's perspective her ass was drier, firmer, less accommodating. He had

to be well lubricated before making the trip up her poop chute. It was

work.

By

contrast Jenny's pussy always smiled open and never failed to recommend

her clitoris as a friend and confidante, and well worthy of his

attention. Too, she was slippery in a fun sort of way. If one tripped

and fell into her, her charming laugh erased all elements of dismay.

"Whoops! Take care, now! Let's try it again!"

From

Jenny's perspective her ass and her pussy were flip sides of the same

organism. Both required thickness, friction and motion to prosper.

"I'm full. That's the thing."

Jenny's

clit was an entirely different slice of pie. It raged and burgeoned

like a small cock, complete with all the attributes and detriments of

said protuberance. It had thickness, length and a crown. Jenny could

waft it aloft at will. Men who encountered it visually for the first

time were often shocked to see it rising like a spring mushroom from

beneath Jenny's crimson carpet.

"There's a pussy down there, too." Janice often reminded her lovers, queefing its scent to soften the stunning visual effect of her throbbing mini-member.

She

enjoyed getting blown, man or woman, it made no difference. Janice

would lay on her back and open her legs wide so that she might watch

whomever chose to service her. She imagined the ridicule she might

endure if she were a man with such a small, stubby cock. Instead, she

enjoyed the amazement her lobster claw clitoris evoked. It bobbed at the

apex of her cleft, preening for tongue. And if no mouth closed upon it,

the friction/pressure of a furry pubis served almost as well, as long

as a huge cock encumbered her vaginal passage in tandem. Jenny had the

best of both worlds.

Just

now she could feel Ben's cock surging faster and faster still inside

her bottom. Her ass cheeks wobbled and flattened with each powerful

thrust.

"Not yet!"

She eased up off his cock, leaving it throbbing manically in the air.

"I'm gonna suck it, okay? And then you do me," she murmured aloud.

This was not a request.

Jenny knelt and took Ben's cock into her mouth.

Fanny Seduces Jake

As

Buck Harness' niece, Fanny Harkness wasn't family per se. Sure, she

called Gabrielle Leone Harkness 'auntie', but that title accrued from

marriage, not blood.

Jake Leone didn't care either way. She had a pussy, didn't she? What else mattered?

Back

in the day, the two of them had been chicken fighting partners at the

Thompkins swimming hole before a group of parents banned the game

outright. Jake remembered that one time where he, Ben, Tommy Thompkins,

Leo Green, Pete Harkness and a few other teens convinced a number of the

local girls, black and white, to chicken fight in the nude. After some

trepidation, one of the black girls stripped naked, followed by a few

others. Finally the white girls doffed their clothing to avoid being

called 'yellow'.

Jake

was amazed to see his partner, Fanny, boldly splashing about in the

buff. She wasn't grown yet. Her titties best resembled a set of overly

large nipples lacking heft or sway. 'Mosquito bites' she called them.

Her bush, too, was a work in progress. Despite its deep brunette

coloration, it didn't cover her entire puss; one could still see patches

of white skin beneath. (This wasn't true of any of the Leone girls, all

of whom sported full-bush pussies and wobbly tits as they entered their

teens.)

When

Fanny mounted his shoulders and he could feel her vagina pressing

against his neck, Jake almost swooned. His cock ballooned erect. Though

he sought to hide it beneath the watery surface, Fanny noticed his boner

and called it to the attention of the other girls. Then everyone, male

and female, had a good laugh at Jake's expense.

Jake

and Fanny defeated Leo Green and Dinah Thompkins in the first round of

chicken fighting that day. Jake's erect cock touched Leo's cock (also

erect) during the mash up, causing Leo to fall over backward in shock.

Tommy Thompkins and Polly Lynn Bannister subsequently defeated Jake and

Fanny in the second round.

After

the loss, Jake attempted to keep Fanny astride his shoulders purely for

the feel of her naked ass against his skin. Fanny wiggled free of his

grip and spent the rest of that day avoiding him. He seemed just too

eager to 'accidentally' touch her with his cock. She'd thought it cute

at first. Not so much later on.

Much had transpired between that summer day seven years ago and this.

Firstly,

Janice Leone spilled the beans about the naked chicken-fighting

contest. Since the black boys present had witnessed white girls naked

(although none of them had taken white girls as chicken-fighting

partners), coed swimming had been summarily banned.

"What were you thinking! white fathers thundered at their sons. "Lett’n blackies see your sista buck nekkid! Ever last one oh dem coulda got raped. You knows how their kind is!"

Secondly, Jake Leone inadvertently impregnated his cousin Patrice McNulty, who subsequently married and moved away to Tennessee.

Thirdly,

Fanny's uncle Buck married Jakie's cousin Gabrielle, making Fanny an

erstwhile member of the Leone clan. She was, as yet, unaware of the

initiation fee into that august tribe.

It

was Bennett Leone who apprised Fanny Harkness of her membership dues.

Fanny lost her virginity to Ben during the wedding festivities. He

fucked her several more times at church before passing her off to his

cousin Jake because (he said): "She needs mo' practice'n I got time to

give."

Despite

Ben's assessment of her nascent sexual capacities, Fanny Harkness

blossomed into a lovely young woman. A natural brunette, she wore her

flaxen hair after the fashion of a lion's mane reaching down to the

small of her back. Her 'mosquito bites' filled in nicely to become apple

sized tits featuring cherry nipples. She had a small waist and a

proportionately delightful tookus. The valley at the juncture of her

thighs creamed with a curly, raven-colored bush that matched her lion's

mane. Her eyes were deeply green. She had dimples and a smile that would

light up a room. One might have thought Ben Leone crazy to pass up such

a luscious temptation.

Ben commented, "Her pussy's kinda small, ain't it?"

It

was true. Fanny could only wetten the first five inches of Ben's cock.

After that her winces of discomfort made their sex (for Ben, at least)

an ordeal. Even when she lathered up her pussy just wasn't that deep.

One wondered after her childbearing capacity. A seasoned cocksman like

Ben could afford to throw one back now and again. He had a bevy of

options. Jake was happy to snap her up.

At

first, Fanny was a bit confused about the trade-out. She enjoyed sex

with Ben, felt she was getting the swing of it. One Sunday Ben just took

her hand and placed in Jake's. And that was it.

Fanny's

limited exposure to cock benefited Jake to some degree. He had

well-documented 'new pussy' issues. His first ten encounters with Fanny

ended quickly, leaving him semi-comatose and leaving Fanny sloppy wet,

disheveled and befuddled.

"Ben wasn't like this."

As

Jake got used to being inside Fanny's pussy their sessions lengthened.

Fanny still left church coddling a huge packet of semen between her

legs. Every once in awhile, however, she left some of her youthful

sexual anguish in the same basement closet where she obtained that jism.

Up

in the bell tower, Miriam Thompkins was in agony. Thirty seconds after

Priscilla inhaled Charlie Leone's cock, Miriam was on the verge of a

mammoth fuckquake.

"He gon' say I cain't fuck!" she lamented as expansive shock waves wracked her curvy frame.

Under the stewardship of Charlie's manly thrusts, Priscilla the Punani raged to be free of her Miriam-imposed constraints.

"Lemme

loose, Mir! We can do him again! We gots time!” Priscilla implored.

“Jes lemme get de furst one in! I’ll be good after dat!”

Priscilla

was lying. Even now, Miriam knew that her mother was downstairs

wondering after her absence. Only two of the triplets were present.

Since the three women always ran in a pack, a missing triplet screamed

of an imbalance called Trouble.

"Lemme snap him, Mir! Ize ready Oh lawdy, Ize reday!”

Priscilla was a stern taskmaster.

"We only gon' get dis one chance, Prissy! Hold on, baby! Hold on!" Miriam begged.

"No gawd dammit!" Priscilla shrieked. "Now gawd dammit, do it now!"

Charlie

could sense a titanic battle raging in Miriam's bearing. She was

impaled upon a rack, refusing to succumb to her inquisitors. Each moment

that rack stretched her body further and further adrift from its

moorings. Once released, she would snap back together like a rubber band

and discharge all of her pent up kinetic energy through her punani in

great shards of orgasmic lather. This was the moment Charlie craved.

"Come on, girl. Give it to me!" Charlie hissed. "I’m wit you"

Charlie

watched from the rear mount as his cock plowed furrows into Miriam's

punani. The squishy, liquid slapping of their merged genitalia portended

Priscilla's ultimate surrender. Charlie knew Priscilla was ready to

cum. Only Miriam's pride held Priscilla back from an atomic detonation.

"Damn I’m good!" Charlie bragged to himself.

It

didn't occur to him that Miriam was three quarters of the way to a

shattering climax before she'd climbed into the church bell tower. He'd

thought her animus to be due to his sexual fecundity, not Miriam's

extravagant sexual fantasies.

Ignoring Miriam's will, Priscilla capitulated.

"Fuck you, selfish bitch. I needs to gets mine." Miriam’s strong-willed clit defied her.

Miriam

opened her mouth widely into a silent scream of primal anguish. Her

entire frame shook with spastic tremors. Her toes and fingers wiggled

maniacally. Her ass cheeks ballooned. And then a huge stream of pungent

squirt burst from her cunny, cascading a puddle three feet wide onto the

bell tower floor.

Miriam slumped.

Janice

Leone, too, was on the verge of surrender. She'd already sucked Ben's

cock dry. Then she'd stood over him as he'd knelt and returned the

favor. Her cunnilingual orgasm quickly consumed her. Jenny drove her

junior peenie into Ben's mouth as he had done earlier, holding his head

firmly in place, roiling her fluffy crimson pubic mound in circlets

about his nose, lips and cheeks. She came explosively and was not

displeased to find that Ben's cock had firmed up under the fires of her

sexual extremis. She turned and offered her ass to him, carpet, clit and

all. Ben gratefully accepted. He mounted her and inserted himself.

They'd been fucking anally for ten minutes now as Janice masturbated

herself back to Ben's level of arousal.

In

her mind's eye Janice imagined Ben to be a black slave with bowling

ball muscles, a donkey cock and a taste for white punani. She imagined a

real donkey cock, too. A two feet long, all pink and purple striped,

with an inverted crown and a lengthy grey sheath shrouding its base. She

envisioned herself as the virginal heroine of a Victorian tragedy,

shielding her town from the rampages of this muscular boy, using her

feminine wiles to distract him from younger, more easily taken white

women, sacrificing her virtue for the good of the many.

"You shan't have me, Mr. Donkeydick!" she asserted boldly.

"I shall!" the marauder countered.

And that was how Janice Leone ended up with a donkey cock up her ass.

She

could feel his inverted pudenda surging inside her. It felt like a huge

set of lips probing from the business end of a lamprey. She kept hoping

a tongue would slip from his opening to lap at her vitals. His shaft

was sticky, even slimy. It contrasted greatly with the dry tightness of

her poop chute. Lacking the muscular, veiny feel of a man's cock, it

replaced that sensation with an eel-like fluidity as his pink/purple

cock invested itself of her stink. It squirmed and roiled and looped.

Once it even doubled back on itself and tied itself into a knot.

"Oh!" Jenny cried out as his thickness ballooned unexpectedly inside her rectum.

Throughout

this unusual fantasy, Janice hovered at the threshold of the abyss. Her

lobster claw clit surged erect under the tremulous ministrations of her

fingers. She pressed it down into her fire apple forest, further still

down the line of her cleft until it burgeoned at the very entrance to

her snatch, where her labia kissed and suckled it as a sister in

sensuality.

Janice floated along.

"Fuck

me like a servant, Benny! Slam that fat african cock up in there, you

filthy, black motherfucker!" she whispered stridently. "Oh! Oh!"

Ben knew this scatological language to be Jenny's swan song.

"She's fantasizing about black cock again."

With

that, he redoubled his efforts. He wanted to sluice his cum into her at

the very moment of her completion and, in so doing, wrap up another

perfect Sunday in church.

"Un! Un! Uh" he grunted as he sought to power her over the edge.

Jenny's

jism burst through the walls of her restraint. She came with a

monstrous tantrum of shiver, splattering her 'seed' in six great bursts

of orgasmic delight, each squirt more ecstatic than the one prior, until

she was emptied, sweaty and exhausted. Ben came, too; jettisoning his

milky cock honey into Jenny's ass with the fury of a Russian geyser.

Both of them slumped as they twinkled down from this shattering

concussion.

As

he came back to himself, Ben noticed a warmth, a wetness on his legs, a

wetness where none ought be. He looked down. Jenny's 'seed' had been

her squirt geyser. She'd gushed down his leg as she'd cum, presuming

these to be squirts of clitoral ejaculate. Both of them were standing in

a huge puddle of hot golden dew. Ben's jism trickled from Jenny's ass

in globules of sticky white cream.

Reeling from her orgasm, Jenny only now noticed that she'd also erupted from her bladder orifice. She was hugely embarrassed.

"I'm sorry!" she winced.

Still conjoined, they stepped away from the puddle in tandem.

"That's okay," Ben consoled her. "That was good!"

"Yes. It was," she agreed.

They

waited together in silence for a few more moments before Ben's cock

softened and flumped from Jenny's ass, dragging a long, sticky streamlet

of cum that stretched without breaking.

They endured a few more minutes of post-coital awkwardness, then tidied up and exited the closet.

Fanny

Harkness waited patiently for Jake to recover from their first sexual

encounter that day. His jism oozed down both her thighs in a crawly

flood. She held him up against the closet door to keep him from slumping

to the ground.

As

per usual, he'd cum within moments of entering her and then swooned.

Fanny knew she had but to wait ten minutes and he would be ready to go

again, this time with a bit more stamina. She coddled Jake as he slept

off his orgasm.

"Ben wasn't like this."

But

then, too, Jakie didn't hurt as much. In fact, he fit her nicely. He

wasn't as thick as Ben; his eight-incher slid easily inside her pussy.

It loosened her up. Fanny looked forward to the day when she could take

another poke at Ben's ten-inch cock.

"I'm not small!" Fanny’s prideful cunt declared.

Fanny

wanted to wipe Jake's semen away. It tickled. It made her vagina feel

sloshy. She was afraid it would stain her church dress. She feared that

its aroma would indict her once she returned to the mingling church

crowd upstairs. But she needed both hands to hold Jakie aloft. By way of

compromise she spread her legs resolutely and allowed his issue to plop

to the floor.

"I'll get the rest later."

When

she knew Jake's recovery to be imminent, Fanny was better able to hold

him aloft with one hand. His legs recovered enough sand to support his

weight. As he was coming around, Fanny knelt and began to bob at his

cock. Often, she knew, his cock awakened before Jake came to his senses.

Too, it had taken her awhile to take to fellatio. Early on, Ben's

attempts to insinuate himself into her mouth often resulted in the gag

reflex. This, in large part, was the reason Fanny was with Jake today.

Fanny took every opportunity now to suck cock. It was an acquired taste.

Even so, Fanny was a spitter, not a swallower.

"Ewe!"

She

could taste Ben's residual jism from their earlier short-lived session.

It resonated with the feminine taste of her cunt. Fanny wasn't overly

thrilled with the taste of fuck.

"He likes this, though. I've gotta keep going."

Jake's

cock rose in conjunction with her efforts. When he was fully hard and

just before Jake roused from his slumber, Fanny stood and pointed his

cock back into her pussy. Jake awakened to find her grinding against

him, moaning as if there'd been no break in their earlier coupling.

Fanny thought this would do wonders for his confidence.

"He'll think we've been doin' it for twenty minutes straight!"

Indeed, Jake did conclude that his staying power had somehow been enhanced.

"Wow! And this is the first time today!"

He

drove into her with renewed vigor. They fucked face-to-face standing up

for a time. Jake rested his shoulder blades against the door, legs

spread wide, while extending his pelvis out to her. Fanny leaned back,

too, as she worked his cock with her pussy. In. Out. Round and round

again. Both of them found animus watching their genitalia merge and ebb.

Fanny grinned.

"That's it, Jakie. Fuck, me. Fuck me. Fuck me!"

She was peaking.

Jake

thought this might be the proper time to introduce Fanny to something

new. She was sloppy wet. He thought these were entirely her own juices.

He didn't imagine that she was already lubricated with his cum.

"Watch this, Jen," he said.

He spun her around and gripped her ass lasciviously. Fanny wasn't troubled. They'd done standing doggie plenty of times.

Jake

pulled her ass cheeks apart with his thumbs. He drew her to him slowly

until his pud punched at her sphincter. Fanny reached down between her

legs to correct his aim. Jake slapped her hands away. He pointed his

cock back into her rectum. Only then did Fanny become concerned Jake's

intent.

"What’s this, then?"

Jake pulled her closer. His cock pressed until she opened partially. Fanny began to struggle.

"No! Jake!"

He controlled her easily, gripping her around the stomach.

"Hold still. It'll hurt less. Trust me."

Reluctantly, Fanny stopped struggling.

"Open your legs," he ordered.

Fanny complied.

Jake

now gripped his shaft to firm it up for its first penetration of

Fanny's outbox. Fanny gritted her teeth in anticipation. Jake watched as

her asshole widened around his cockhead, taking her groans as groans of

pleasure. Fanny might have demurred.

Finally her stinkhole popped open to accept him. It closed around his shaft like a tourniquet. Fanny shivered.

"That wasn't as bad as I'd thought."

Jake

probed forward slowly. Each centimeter of insertion served as balm for

Fanny's trepidations. This didn't hurt, much. In fact, once he got it

in, it felt, kinda good. She waggled each of her ass cheeks separately,

like a weightlifter flexing his individual pects, trying to ingratiate

herself around Jake's thickness.

"Deeper. Deeper!"

Four

inches in. Five inches. Six inches in, Jake suddenly withdrew. He fired

a power stroke that hilted him and rocked Fanny to her core. She

responded by unleashing a concentrated stream of urine that unnerved,

shocked and titillated her.

"That was the best piss of my life!"

Jake

rocked her again. Another stream of pee pelleted forth, this one less

spirally concentrated but just as forceful. Jake slammed home another

thrust. Fanny's ass cheeks wobbled. This time her pee jetted out in a

wide-angle aerosol spray.

"Oh! Oh! That's it! Hit me again, Jake!"

She was coming.

"Dang, girl! Are you peeing?" Jake huffed breathlessly.

"Jake!" she screeched. "it me again!"

Ben

and Janice, passing outside Jake and Fanny's closet door on their way

upstairs, laughed out loud to hear Fanny's climactic marching orders.

"Hit her again, Jake!" Janice called out mirthfully.

Ben looked down. A golden puddle of Fanny's piss trickled from under the door.

"She's peeing! Just like you!" Ben whispered to Janice.

Janice punched him in the arm.

"Shut up!" she said. "You'd better not tell anybody you made me pee in a church!"

"I'm just sayin'. It's not just you. You shouldn't be embarrassed."

"I'm

Serious, Benny. If this gets back on me, that's the last you're going

to see of the crimson poonan. Promise me you won't say anything,

especially not to Jakie."

"Okay." Ben promised.

They wandered up the hall to the staircase together.

"You go up first," Ben said.

Even

though they were cousins, it wouldn't do to be seen coming up from the

church basement together. Jenny grabbed a Bible and marched up the

stairs. In the distance Ben could hear Fanny's muffled cry.

"Again!"

Ben smiled to himself. She obviously didn't give a damn about being heard.

"I'm gon' have to give that one another go!"

Rev.

Masterson Sanders presided over the local Episcopal. His sermons served

as backdrop for the clandestine sexual escapades practiced by his

younger parishioners.

He

was a good man. Rather, his mores reflected the values of the day. He

agonized over his flock, took their needs, both physical and spiritual,

to heart. He believed that white people were the chosen of God and

destined to conquer the whole of the New World, thus gaining souls for

the Lord. He believed that only legally enforced racial purity laws made

such conquest possible. He was fond of saying:

"I don't b'lieve in segregation; I b'lieve in slav'ry!"

Even

so, he believed that blacks ought to be Christianized. He believed that

God set his black brethren as slaves to their natural masters, the

whites. He felt this truism must be preached and accepted by all races.

Anyone who sought to alter these biblically ordained social strata ran

in opposition to God's will.

"An' that's when yer in danger of the fahrs of Hell."

In

this wise Rev. Sanders wasn't much different from his contemporaries,

all of whom took the aforementioned maxims as Gospel. Racial domination

was the basis of Southern culture. The subjugation of North America

wasn't viewed as the theft, plunder and genocide of an Indian continent,

built up upon the backs of forced African labor. Rather, it was viewed

as God's blessings upon white folk for their faith, virtue and

self-determination. This viewpoint routinely found its way into Rev.

Sanders' sermons.

While

Charlie, Ben, Jake and a few others were secretly fornicating in

various hideaways of the First Episcopal sanctuary, Rev. Masterson was

socializing outside and, afterwards, privately counseling members of his

flock. They came to him for spiritual guidance, needing official

affirmation that their Path to Glory was still pristine. The Reverend

corrected their missteps, removed obstacles, encouraged and cajoled. He

was God's vicar in that section of Louisiana.

Rev. Masterson’s Ministry Woes.

On

Sundays the Reverend spent upwards of sixteen hours either in the

pulpit or in the field. He would take dinner in the home of a member of

his flock, then return to the church where he slept in a humble room

opposite the 'blacks' balcony.

During

the workweek he prepped sermons for Sundays, wrote letters, studied and

prayed. He visited the sick and infirm regularly. He was a diligent

pastor. In an outward display of his humble piety he even served as the

church janitor.

Monday

noon the Reverend climbed into the bell tower to chime the time. As he

got himself situated a familiar odor raked his nostrils.

"Smells like somebody done peed in heah."

He sniffed around to determine the source of the odor. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"Which one o' these nasty muthuhfuckahs come up heah an' peed?"

He sniffed around some more, shaking his head in disgust. He got down on his knees and sniffed the wooden floor.

"Hot Dammit. I knew it!"

Miriam's

effluent assaulted his olfactories. Rev. Sanders stood resolutely. He

looked at his pocket watch. It was time to ring the noon bell.

"I got chores," he grumbled. "Ah moan have t' keep this door locked from now on."

Rev.

Sanders dutifully rang the lunch bell, trying to envision which of his

parishioners would commit such vile sacrilege in a church. Had he

offended someone? The culprit had to go out of his/her way to climb all

the way up into the belfry.

"Nasty muthuhfuckah."

Ten

minutes later the Reverend was rousting thru a basement closet looking

for a scrub brush and a pail. He found a mop standing in a corner. Its

pail was stuffed under a rack behind various other cleaning equipment.

Something smelled odd. Rev. Sanders paused to sniff. There it was again!

The unmistakable aroma of human piss!

He

drew his hands and knees up to his nose to see if the smell from the

bell tower floor attached. Yes, but barely. He knelt to the floor.

"Somebody don peed in heah too!"

The smell in the closet was much more acrid than that in the bell tower.

"I'll be a sonna vah bitch! Dah piss is in heah, too!”

He

snatched the pail and slammed the closet door shut. He noticed a dark

stain on the clapboard flooring where the urine trailed from under the

door.

"Where's that scrub brush?"

He

went hunting through other closets in search of a brush to clean up the

mess. As he opened the door to the third closet a familiar odor

assailed him.

"Sonnuv ah bitch!”

The following Sunday, Rev. Sanders opened services with prayer. He paused before launching into his weekly sermon.

"Befo'

we gets started, I want to remind youse that we has a perfectly good

outhouse out the back. I won't be offended if'n some of youse feel

compelled to take a moment for yo'selves dur'nthe sermon. Outside. Feel

free. This is the House of the Lawd."

Most

of the congregants found this opening puzzling. Sanders felt confident

that the culprits heard his words and discerned his intent.

He hoped those nasty pissing bastards felt convicted in their spirits.

"Is nuth’n sacred? This is a church, gawd dammit!"

Up in the 'blacks' balcony, Beulah Thompkins caught Charlie Leone's eye with a sly double cheek poke.

Charlie smiled widely.

Downstairs in the white folks pews similar winks, cheek pokes, sniffles and sidelong glances were the order of the day.

Heedless of this backdrop, Rev. Sanders launched into his Sunday sermon.

To be continued.

By Bardot1990 for Literotica.