Author's Note:
This is my first attempt at something a little longer form that's more of a slow burn. The main arc of this story is a seduction, and as such not every chapter is going to be filled with sex. Hopefully the good bits that are included will be enough to get you off, but I hope you enjoy the story I'm trying to tell, and I welcome your feedback. Whether this does it for you or not, thank you for reading. I promise that when we get where we're going, it's going to be worth the trip.
Chapter One:
It was a beautiful day in suburban Tennessee. Spring was coming to a close and summer was beginning to heat things up, but the days of scorching heat were still a few weeks away. Schools had let out only a few days before and many families had left for the beaches and mountains on vacation.
The Phillips house was in a cul-de-sac, surrounded by other ranch style homes from the 1970s. It was a respectable home, neither fancy nor drab, with a fresh white coat of paint and dark brown trim; a style-update courtesy of the woman of the house. Its backyard, which contained shaded patio area and a tank pool, was enclosed by a wooden fence stained to match the home's trim. The house was stylish and well-kept, with the only touch of ornamentation being a golden cross hanging from the front door, the only exterior sign that this was the home of a respected pastor for the local Methodist church.
Said pastor was Adam Phillips, and he was currently away from several weeks to attend a regional conference of the United Methodist Church. In recent years the church had been rocked with internal strife over numerous social issues, including the inclusion of members of the LGBTQ community and the validity of female priests, and so Adam and the other attendees were expected to be away for an extended period while various conferences and then the church came to a consensus on these issues.
All of this was a complex and interesting topic for someone interested in the inner workings of organized religion, but the only thing that Mrs. Phillips cared about was that her husband was going to be gone from the middle of May until well into June. This would free her to pursue various extracurricular activities with a freedom that she was normally denied.
Sage Phillips was a stunningly beautiful and fiercely intelligent woman. She was thirty-five, two years younger than her husband, and had aged well into the full bloom of her womanhood over the years. She had thick, dark hair and brilliantly blue eyes that men tended to find either intimidating or alluring. She had an athletic build from her days as an NCAA soccer player, which she maintained with vigorous yoga and cardio sessions. Before meeting Adam, she'd been one of Ole Miss's most promising law students, with a bright future ahead of her. When they'd moved in after the wedding, she'd insisted on placing her two degrees on the wall right next to Adam's. Though the wife of a pastor, she would not be second fiddle.
Sage had given up a lot to be with Adam, and for the first few years she'd considered it worth it. Adam was attentive, attractive, and, most importantly, a fucking stud in bed. To this day, after almost eight years of marriage, he could still make her cum harder and longer than any lover, man or woman or plastic, that she'd ever had. She still masturbated to memories of their first year of marriage, when they'd screw entire days away. Adam was insatiable in those early days, and Sage, who was a veritable nymphomaniac herself, gladly gave herself up in any way he desired.
However, those days had slowly dwindled, beginning with Adam's call to serve. She'd made no protest about his dedication to a higher power; she was happy to see him fulfilled. But as his dedication to Christ had grown, his ardor for Sage had seemed to wane. Perhaps it would've happened regardless of Adam's faith, but it seemed a waste to Sage for him to only unleash his sizeable endowment every few months. Meanwhile, her sex drive seemed to only grow, and thus Sage had turned to other outlets to feed her needs.
The fence around the backyard was her idea, and it was currently serving its purpose well. Sage lay splayed out on a couch on the patio, naked as the day she was born, while one of the husbands from the congregation pumped vigorously in and out of her. He was standing, holding her legs up, pounding away at Sage's pussy while she writhed in pleasure.
Sage worked her hips up and down on Michael's cock. Her hands were on her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples. Michael's dick was coated with their shared juices; through the power of the blue pill this was their third coupling today. They were both coated in sweat and their hair was matted and sticking to their faces. It was Sage's favorite kind of fuck: a wet, sloppy, and primal screw. She was so fucking close to cumming, too. If only Michael would just set her down and drive his manhood into her instead of the porn star jackhammering he was doing now...
"Oh yeah, fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah..." he said, doing his best to imitate Charles Dera or Tommy Gunn. Michael was still in his twenties, a new addition to the church. He was in good shape, which is what had drawn Sage to him in the first place. What he lacked in grace she had hoped he would make up for in forcefulness. And he could fuck her hard. He was doing that right now; his respectable cock was churning up a froth of bodily fluids as it rammed all the way into her and almost came all the way out. Long, fast, hard strokes that looked good on camera, but ignored most of the truly sensitive parts of Sage's pussy. "Fuck yeah, baby, fuck yeah!"
Sage looked up at him. His eyes were closed, his breathing was fast and short; he was close. She reached up to try and grab his hips and bring him in line with what she needed. This was a good fuck, but it wasn't going to make her cum the way she needed to. "I wanna feel you all the way in me...fucking cum in me. Fill me up, baby. I want all of you inside me," she said. She got a grip on his thighs and was able to wrap her legs around his waist, pulling him in closer. "Ooooooooh, yes," she moaned as the change of position and pace matched what she wanted. It wouldn't take long for her to cum, if he could just keep it in for a few more minutes...
Sage squeezed and twisted around him, milking his cock and making her eyelids flutter with pleasure. "Yes, yes, yes, I'm so close, baby. Keep fucking me just like that."
"Urrruuggggh," Michael groaned; he didn't know what black magic this woman was doing with her pussy, but she gripped him like nothing he'd ever felt before. He couldn't control himself, and he emptied his load into her while cumming like he never had before. His balls seemed to squeeze themselves so hard in an attempt to blast every sperm he'd ever made into Sage that he thought they were going to burst. His knees gave out from the orgasm, and he collapsed onto the patio, his cock flopping out of her moments before Sage herself came.
As for Sage, she felt like she'd been awoken from a wonderful dream by an overhead light. She bolted upright on the couch, wanting to grab his head or a hand so that he could finish her off, but then she saw the absolute insensible state she'd left the man in.
Michael was a puddle on the patio concrete; he looked nearly catatonic. Sage sighed, realizing that she was back to square one. At least the sight of such a manly man reduced to ruin by fucking her was satisfying. She half smiled at him and kept back a chuckle. The sex was good, but part of the reason she did this was that she enjoyed using, abusing, and leaving a man deflated. Only Adam had been able to keep up with her; none of the other men that Sage had taken into her bed had been able to keep up with her.
She stood from the couch. Semen and her own fluids leaked out of her and mixed with their sweat on her thighs. A slight breeze kicked up, stiffening her nipples and clit. Sage loved that sensation; she loved being bare to the world. Whereas most of the women she knew would be ashamed of their nakedness, Sage felt powerful. That was really what all of this was about: power.
Sage looked down at Michael, still recovering, and tossed him a towel from the nearby table. "That was nice. There's a shower in the guest bathroom. Use that to clean yourself up, then leave." She wrapped herself in another towel and headed inside.
