The Preacher's Grace

Grace rolled over and hit the snooze on the alarm. Stretching, she rolled back and snuggled into Sean's arms, kissing his chest. He sleepily rolled into her and gave her a morning kiss on the lips as his hand lazily moved up and down her bare thigh and hip. "Morning, hot stuff," he mumbled through a smile.

"Morning, stud," she murmured back, then, "Mmmm..." as his hand traced its way slowly but purposefully across her naked ass cheek. "Keep that up and I'll be late."

He took her hand and moved it down under the sheet to where his erection was growing. "Speaking of keeping things up, see what you did? And since it's your fault, I think you should do something about it."

"Oh, I should, should I?" she asked archly as she slid down the length of him, grinning. "And, uh, just what do you think I should do?" Her head was resting on his belly now, her hand stroking his length rhythmically and smoothly.

"A little mouth-magic would do wonders for my problem, I think..." he said just before she moved her head forward and engulfed the knob at the end of his shaft. "Ahhh..." he gasped. "Yeah, just like—ah!—like that..."

She slipped her warm, soft lips up and down his turgid member, following it with her hand, licking and sucking on the ridge of the helmet, then the bulbous head itself, then down the shaft again, sucking hard on the upstroke, relaxing on the down stroke. ..

It only took a few minutes of her concentrated attentions before his back arched and he let out a "Whumph!"; a warm flood of thick, creamy cum exploded in her mouth, and she swallowed, and swallowed again, holding the head in her mouth. She continued sucking softly and gently for a few minutes more, making sure she got every residual drop, and then finally released his slackening tool with a little pop. Still gripping the shaft loosely, she turned to look back over her shoulder and asked, grinning, "Um, was that sort of what you had in mind?"

"Oh, yeah, baby," he said, catching his breath. "And now..." He moved forward, intending to do something more with her, but she forestalled him with an outstretched hand on his chest. "No," she said firmly. "No time. I have to get packed. Consider this your 'goodbye' quickie blowjob." She promptly rolled out of the bed and began to dress, briskly.

He lay in the rumpled sheets watching her. "So I won't see you again until the fall?" Sean was a 'townie', someone she'd run into at a convenience store a few weeks back. Some flirtatious talk, and they'd gone for drinks; a few drinks, and they'd wound up here, at his place. That had been the first time, but there had been others since, culminating in last night's marathon sex romp, her "going away" party before she left campus to go home for the summer.

"No, you won't see me again until September."

If then,

she added mentally, but didn't say. She tended not to stay with one guy very long; there were too many other good-looking—and good sexing—men and boys out there to find, and she didn't want to be tied down. It wasn't that she was a slut, exactly; it was just that this was all new and exciting, like a first trip to the amusement park: She wanted to try

all

the rides before settling on her favorite one.

Since hitting college last fall an entire new world had opened before her. Suddenly freed from the constrictions of a small Midwestern town and out from under the watchful eye of her mother, Grace had discovered parties. And boys. And sex. And alcohol. And sex. And boys...frat boys, nerdy boys, jock boys, smart boys, hunky boys...and of course, sex.

Her roommate, a second-year student named Andrea, had pitied her constrained upbringing and undertaken to introduce her to the wider world. At a frat party during the first two weeks of her arrival on campus, Andrea had introduced her to Todd; later that night, after much drinking and flirting, she'd discovered the wonders of mutual masturbation upstairs in Todd's room. He had wanted to go on, but she had refused for fear of pregnancy.

The following day she'd gone straight to the campus health center and gotten a prescription for the pill, something she would never have dared do in her hometown where everyone knew everyone, or so it seemed. With protection safely in hand, she promptly embarked on a voyage of exploration, seeking out whatever opportunities for carnal learning that college had available—which turned out to be many more than she had ever imagined.

Andrea had been particularly adamant that Grace learn how to give both a good handjob and a good blowjob, especially the blowjob. "It's a necessary skill, girl," the roommate had said. "It's the best weapon in your arsenal."

"

Every

girl can fuck; you just have to be ready and willing. The guy does most of the work and you get to share the fun. And every girl can give a handjob; it just takes persistence and a little lube, though guys prefer girls who are better at it over girls that aren't.

"But make a man blow his load in your mouth in under three minutes? That's special. You won't have to go looking for guys, they'll come looking for

you

once word gets around, and believe me it will get around. And it keeps the ones you like coming back again. It sets you apart."

So she had undertaken to instruct and coach, using bananas, carrots, cucumbers, and on several occasions the loan of Andrea's boyfriend, Matt. They'd even staged some group encounters, where Grace could contrast and compare and learn how different guys liked different things. She'd learned to deep throat, and to swallow cum, the taste of which she had at first not cared for much, but which she eventually came to enjoy. And Andrea was right: the boys started coming—and cumming—in droves.

And of course she was also into fucking, and giving handjobs, and getting her pussy licked and finger-fucked during all this. She learned all the positions, and many new techniques, and diligently did her kegels every day. She adamantly refused to do anal—that was just nasty in her mind, and she couldn't get past it—but she allowed every other orifice she possessed to be used, in whatever imaginative way some guy wanted to use it.

She discovered new and different places for fun, too: between the stacks at the library; in the narrow greenway corridors between the campus buildings; in the theater; in a parked car (that one seemed to be popular); in broom closets and storage sheds; in alleys behind bars and pizza parlors; in the press box of the stadium; behind the stage curtains during an orchestra performance. And on one memorable occasion, sitting in the back row of a big half-empty lecture hall. She'd taken to packing extra hankies in her purse for clean-up, and she'd needed several that day—she had cum twice, and he'd had a gusher.

She packed away her jeans and took to wearing sweats and yoga pants and skirts exclusively—they were easily accessible for spur-of-the-moment activities. And she discovered her fetish for semi-public sex, someplace where there was a risk of being caught. Not

too

big a risk, of course; she didn't want word of her activities to make its way home to mother's ear.

Her mid-term grades were, predictably, disastrous, and she realized that if she wanted to continue her 'other' studies she would have to apply herself more to her academics. Since then she'd curtailed her adventures, but not ceased them. Final marks at the end of the first semester were acceptable, so she continued with her balanced approach: study hard,

then

party hard. So far it seemed to be holding up well. Or at least well enough.

And now the school year was over, and she had to go home. She sighed as she left Sean's and headed back to her dorm to finish packing. A long, dull summer to look forward to, with nothing much to do and low probabilities of getting laid; her town was too small, and the risk of her mother hearing about it too great.

**********************************

"Are you ready, Grace?" her mother called from the bottom of the stairs. She sighed as she took one last look in the full-length mirror, checking to make sure she would pass her mother's muster; nothing too

revealing,

you know... "Yes, mamma," she called. "I'll be down in a minute."

She swung out the doorway, grabbing her wide-brimmed hat from the bed on the way, and bounced down the stairs. This was the first time she'd worn this sun-dress, and it felt good. It was light and breezy, silky against her skin, and if the wrap-around style showed just a little too much décolleté and the full flouncy skirt ended an inch or two higher than would meet her mother's rather straight-laced opinion of "appropriate", still it wasn't risqué enough to be outright objectionable.

As a finishing touch, she'd added a thin gold chain that dangled down into the deep valley between her full, firm breasts, drawing downward the eye of anyone who looked at her—or at least it would draw the eyes of the boys in that direction, and that was her target audience.

At the bottom of the stairs her mother waited, looking Grace over with a critical eye. She seemed on the verge of saying something, but in the end she merely turned and led the way out the door. The ride to the church was uneventful, and as they pulled into the lot and parked Grace waved to Jenny and Kristy, her two friends from high school who were also back home for the summer.

"I'm going to go talk to the girls for a minute," Grace said as she exited the car. "I'll see you inside, mama." Walking over to her besties, she gave and got hugs all around. "Wow," Jenny said, stepping back and giving Grace a thorough look-over. "You look hot!"

"Oh, do I?" Grace said in mock innocence, turning and twirling. "I didn't know."

Kristy laughed. "Well, it seems college has changed you; you used to be so buttoned-up, almost mousy," she said. "I like the new you."

As they walked towards the church, Jenny said, "I can't wait 'til we get together and talk. I have some pretty good stuff to tell you both." Grace smiled. Jenny had always been the most flirtatious member of the group, almost wild if "wild" had any meaning in the context of their small town. It wouldn't surprise her to hear that Jenny had a couple of boyfriends at school, and she looked forward to hearing all the juicy details of her conquests. She was quite sure that the other two girls would be surprised, maybe even shocked, at the stories

Grace

could and would tell...

They parted inside the door and made their way to their respective customary seats with their families. Grace's mother scooted over a little to give Grace room to sit comfortably, then turned her concentration to the front.

Another boring ho-hum sermon,

Grace thought, and prepared herself to suffer through it.

But when the preacher emerged her interest suddenly picked up. "Who's that, and where's Pastor Elmont?" she whispered to her mother. "Pastor Elmont is ill," came the whispered response. "This is his replacement, at least for the next few months."

Grace liked what she saw. He was young and good-looking with nice dark hair, and dark hypnotic eyes, and nice shoulders... As he launched into his prepared speech, she kept noticing his hands. They were strong and graceful, and she couldn't help but wonder how those hands would feel running all over her body. She felt a little tingle start between her legs, and scolded herself:

This is no place to be thinking

that

way.

But still...

When the service was over, she met up again with Jenny and Kristy. "Oh, boy!" Jenny said, pretend fanning herself. "Did you see him? What a hunk! I wouldn't mind him putting his shoes under

my

bed!"

Kristy concurred. "He's a hottie, all right. Too bad he's a preacher. They get so weird about sex, most of 'em, like it's something terrible and to be avoided at all cost. Right up there with stabbing babies, or something. Unless you're married, of course," she added as an afterthought. "Then it's okay. But only to have children."

"

Is

he married?" Grace asked. "No, I don't think so," Jenny answered. "At least I haven't heard that he is. And he's not wearing a ring—I checked." Jenny's family sat closer to the front than those of the other two girls. "He's fresh out of seminary, just got his divinity degree, or so I heard. This is his first assignment." Jenny's mom was also the first to get all the good gossip, which Jenny dutifully passed along.

"First assignment? He must be lonely, here, then..." Grace said, speculatively. "Away from his family, his friends...I think I'll go and say 'hi', welcome him to town." Jenny and Kristy exchanged knowing looks, and burst out giggling. "You go right ahead, girl," Kristy said through her smile. "Best of luck. We'll be rooting for you." They both burst into giggles.

Waving away her two friends dismissively but a little sheepishly, Grace strolled over to where the new preacher, Pastor Ken, was greeting and speaking with his congregation outside the church door. She waited patiently as he finished greeting and speaking to the elderly Johnson couple, and when they finally moved away she stepped up and smiled. "Hi. I'm Grace Carmody. Welcome to our little town," she said brightly, holding out her hand.

"Thank you," he responded warmly, enfolding her hand in both of his and holding it there. "My name's Greg, Greg Newman. It's nice to meet you. Are you a regular attendee, or are you just visiting? I confess I haven't memorized all of the names of the congregants, yet." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "It's a lot to absorb in such a short time."

His eyes up close were even more mesmerizing than from a distance—dark pools of mystery, hinting at hidden depths and secrets. And dark as they were, there was fire underneath; she had seen it during his sermon, and she saw it again just now, up close. His hands around hers, touching hers, felt good. Very good. They were warm and gentle, though she felt strength in them, too.

The moment when she would ordinarily have expected him to release her hand came and went, and he continued to hold it.

Maybe I should break contact,

she thought. But that would be rude, wouldn't it? And it could possibly create an embarrassed awkwardness she was reluctant to provoke, so she simply surrendered to the simple pleasure, however long it lasted.

"Yes, I imagine it is quite lot to get your head around," she said conversationally. "My family attends here, and I grew up in town, but I'm just home from college for the summer." She noticed his eyes drift down to her neck, then lower, following the slim gold chain, lingering a moment where it disappeared between her breasts before coming back up to hold her own. She felt that tingle start again between her legs, and a thought came into her head, a half-formed idea. But did she dare on it?

"I was wondering..." she began casually. "I'm taking a Women's Studies course on the changing role of women in the American scene, and I'd be interested in hearing your views on the changing role of women in the church, where it's been, where it's going, and whether or not you think we're headed in the right direction."

He smiled. "Why, I'd be delighted to discuss that with you, Grace. Right now, though, I have to make some visitations. I'll be back in my office around three o'clock, however; would you like to come by then? We can talk at length about it."

"Um, sure," Grace answered. "That would be fine." The tingle increased with the intense look he gave her, and they stood regarding each other as the silence stretched between them. Finally he released her hand and said, "Until then. It was nice to meet you, Grace." He turned and walked into the church, beginning to loosen his tie as he went.

When she got back to the car her waiting mother asked, "What were you and the new preacher talking about?"

"Oh, I was just telling him how much I enjoyed his sermon," Grace answered innocently. "I said I'd like to know more about the subject, and he said he'd be available this afternoon to discuss it. I think I might come back. He's very...spiritual." Grace had no idea what the sermon had been about; she hadn't paid the slightest bit of attention. But she knew that if she couched her visit to the church in religious tones, her mother wouldn't object.

"Yes, I thought it was quite good," her mother said distractedly as she navigated her way through the lot to the street. "And he does have a very forceful delivery." She glanced at Grace. "So have you taken an interest in faith, finally? I've been praying for that for years, you know."

Grace looked out the window. "Oh, well...maybe I just needed to hear it the right way. Pastor Greg is more...interesting than Pastor Elmont. His presentation, I mean," she amended.

"Well, I hope he can get through to you. Lord knows I've tried and failed..." her mother muttered, not quite to herself.

Oh, I'm sure he can...'get through to me',

Grace thought, a

ssuming he wants to.

Of course there was always the possibility that he might

not

want to, that he was just as upright and straight-laced and weird about sex as Kristy's dismissive evaluation would describe. But the way he'd held her hand, and the intensity of his gaze, and that single drifting—and lingering—glance down to her cleavage, all gave her an inkling of hope, at least.

Grace puttered around the house until almost three, then quickly packed a few things into a carry-bag and called, "I'm off to the church," as she went out the door. She was wearing jeans and a knit polo shirt, the rather sober and nondescript uniform she'd adopted since she'd arrived. But on the drive over, she pulled off the road onto a little-used side lane to put her plan into action.

She quickly shucked off the jeans to reveal the tiny red satin thong she'd donned at the house, just large enough to conceal her slit and clit. She replaced the jeans with a very short, flouncy skirt that barely covered her ass. Skinning out of the polo shirt, she unhooked and discarded her bra and pulled on a tight, cropped, midriff-showing t-shirt that had a strategic tear down the middle of the front to show off her cleavage. She was already wearing sheer thigh-highs topped by lacy borders; they ended several inches below the hem of her abbreviated skirt, exposing a nice expanse of creamy skin.

Checking her look in the mirror, she nodded with satisfaction; her nipples, already hardening at the thought of what she was doing, tented the jersey fabric of the T enticingly. Finally she added a light raincoat that would fall down as far as her knees. The weather wasn't cool, but she needed it to hide her outfit from any casual eyes that might see her walking from the car to the church.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled back onto the main road and proceeded to the church. Wrapping the raincoat around her before she left the car, she walked quickly to the church and through it to the office in the back. Doffing the raincoat and slinging it over her arm now that she was confident no one would see, she reached back and pulled the barrette from her honey-blond, mid-back length hair, drawing two hanks to the front to drape down along the outsides of her breasts. Ready at last, she took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in," the voice called from the other side, and she turned the knob and swung the door open. The office, which she had never seen before, was small and rather Spartan, but clean and neat: pale walls with a few prints, a bookshelf with a few volumes, the desk, and two side chairs...that was all. Afternoon sunlight filtered pleasantly through a single window, which Grace was pleased to see was frosted. "Hello, Pastor Greg," she said brightly, and sat in the nearest side chair after pushing it slightly farther from the desk, draping the raincoat over the back of the other. She sat on the front edge and reclined a little, allowing her bare thighs to extend out, though keeping her knees together.