Cheating At Church! - Lady Devreux - ebook

Diane is a believer that the power of religion can solve any problem- even the desire to have sex with other women! Seeking counsel from her pastor's wife, Diane finds herself seduced into sin- a sin that is discovered by her own wayward son! Excerpt Amelia looked at me- she knew where this was going, and so did I. My son had walked in on us, and now he was going to use this as an excuse for getting something in return. “Ezra, I can’t do anything with you,” Amelia said, “Sorry, but-” “Why can’t you?” Ezra laughed, “If I hadn’t walked in when I did, tell me that you weren’t going to be eating my mom’s pussy right now?” “Ezra, that is different,” Amelia said, though she still made no move to cover herself. “Why, because she is a woman?” Ezra said, “Your husband told me, all sin is the same!” “Where is this a sin?” Amelia said. “Look, you are still cheating on your husband,” Ezra said, “I can see why. He is a big mouthed asshole who thinks he knows it all because he stands up once a week and tells everyone else how to live their life. I get it. Plus, women your age need more than what an old man can give them.” “Ezra, you are the same age as my son,” Amelia said, “I can’t do anything with you.” “I don’t give a fuck about that,” Ezra said, “Well, here’s the choice you have: I want some pussy. I haven’t been laid in three months. Chasing after these church bitches isn’t getting me anything, and I need to have my balls drained.” “Talking like that, maybe that is why you are single,” I said. “Mom, since you want to chime in,” Ezra said, “Maybe then you should use your mouth in a better way- can’t talk with a dick in your mouth, now can you?” Wanting to fuck Amelia was one thing- despite the fact that she was old enough to be his mother, she is a sexy large breasted woman, and any man who was into women would not be likely to turn her down. Since Ezra had been the one to catch us, he had the balance of power in his hands- and I could see why he wanted to use that power to get some of her mature blonde pussy, even if she was not really wanting to give it to him. Young men need sex, even if older men don’t , and my son was a long ways from turning into his non sexual father. But implying that he wanted me to suck his cock- he wanted his own mother to have sexual relations with him- that was something I would never have expected from Ezra! Crude is one thing, but even the crudest men generally don’t tell their mothers to suck their cocks! “Ezra, really!” I said, “You really think- you really want me, your mother, to suck your cock!” “Yes,” Ezra said, turning his icy gaze towards me, “I do. When is the last time you had a dick in your mouth, mom?” Seven years ago. “You criticize us,” Amelia said, “Yet you want your own mother to have sex with you- you need to repent!” “Sin is a sin in your eyes,” Ezra laughed, “Well, in my eyes, I am the one in charge here. You will either do what I want- I don’t give a fuck who does it- or I will tell dad, and Joe, exactly what goes on in these counseling sessions!”  

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Liczba stron: 83


CHAPTER ONE Desires & Sins

CHAPTER TWO Emphasizing Sins


CHAPTER FOUR Getting The Globes


CHAPTER SIX Indulgences




Desires & Sins

“Do not think for a moment, brothers and sisters, that God is not watching everything that you do,” Pastor Joe said, pausing only to swallow a drink of water, “If the Lord of Heaven and Earth knows when a bird falls from the sky, or a beast of the field gnashes it’s teeth, then what makes you think he cannot see into your thoughts?”

I know this is true- but that still does not change them at all. No matter how hard I try to change, I cannot.

For such a small building- a converted former service station that once held cars instead of people that needed repair- Pastor Joe had managed to really pack them in. Even in the coolness of a North Dakota spring time- I have seen it snow as late as the middle of May before- the room itself seemed to sweat with the combination of body heat and the nervousness of the hundred or so congregants here. People sat in the old metal folding chairs, children were in the aisles, and along the back wall, more people stood.

Pastor Joe was not one of the “normal” clergymen of the upper Midwest- a breed that was Christian, yes, but preferred to talk about God’s grace and love as opposed to the God who wanted to condemn and punish. When this Okie had first moved here to Minot, he hadn’t found much of a following- Catholics and Lutherans tend to prefer their own churches. The oil boom, however, had changed that- as new people moved to town, mostly from the part of the country where the pastor and his wife were from, this church that had barely kept the lights on now was in dire need of new quarters.

Some people came here because of genuine conviction, and some came out of mere curiosity- like so many other things, religion is colored by the region of the world in which we grow up, and us Nodaks were not used to a Southern preacher with a flair for dramatics. Even now, half of the people that ventured to this old service station were simply interlopers, but more and more came back again in the following weeks. Whether they believed or simply were entertained, Pastor Joe was successful at bringing them in.

“You must repent,” Pastor Joe said, the sweat beading on his bald head, “You must repent, if you want to be saved!”

I know that, I know I must repent.

I am not a criminal, or a violent person, and never have been; I don’t steal from people, and while I am guilty of jealousy, as we all are, I do my best to not let it show. My parents, while they were not of the same stripe as Pastor Joe, did at least instill these basic values into me. However, sin is still sin in the eyes of the God that the pastor serves, and it does not matter whether or not you actually commit the sin. All sins are also the same, crimes against God, and my worst sin was that of desire.

Desire in and of itself is not bad- the Bible itself says to be fruitful and multiply, and the more religious the marriage, the more children that usually result. My husband and I had managed to have four, and now we were already counting our tenth grandchild. I looked over at Tom, my husband- he was following the words of the pastor like a faithful Catholic follows the pope, his brow furrowed in concentration.

My desire was not for the man next to me who was pushing sixty, the man who wore wire rimmed glasses and a pocket protector. No, the father of my children, whom I had been faithfully married to for thirty five years, was not the object of my lustful thoughts. While he still slept next to me, all we did anymore is sleep- Tom had never been a very sexual man, and as his convictions deepened, he became convinced that the only reason to have sex was to produce more children. Since those days are past for me now, Tom never seems to want to even touch me or hold me. Yes, he does at least pretend to listen to what I have to say- and I have not even the slightest suspicion that he is cheating on me- but he doesn’t want to be with me in the most primal of ways anymore.

The cruel facts of life is that a woman’s sexual interests, and I include myself in this, only increase as we get older- at twenty I was almost as frigid as Tom is, but by forty, I wanted sex nearly five times a day. Now that I am fifty four, I still want it- and not having it at all may have something to do with the reason I am having the thoughts that I have been having.

“Repent, o faithless nation, fall on your knees before the Lord!” Pastor Joe boomed, “Or you shall be cast into the outer darkness, where there is wailing and knashing of teeth!”

With this crescendo, this dramatic finish that would have made a lifelong stage actor proud, our preacher fell onto the small wooden stage on which he stood. Placing his left hand over his chest, and holding his huge gold-leafed Bible in his right hand (original King James Edition, of course), his eyes seemed to roll back into his head. The heavy lids closed, as he began his prayer- this was a Sunday, his weekly Superbowl, but all things must come to an end.

The congregation, myself included, repeated his prayer- one of begging for mercy, and one of confessing to the wrongs we knew we had committed- which ended with a request for approval on the new church’s construction permit. God may be in heaven, in a mansion with uncountable rooms, but here in Minot, this church needed to build a facility to suit. Last Sunday, when he was asking for donations, Pastor Joe told the story of Solomon’s Temple- and even my tight-fisted Norwegian husband had seen fit to toss several crisp bills into the old wicker basket.

As I closed my eyes, I earnestly prayed that I would both be forgiven- and that I would somehow be able to lose the lust that was building inside of me.

Lust for another man was bad enough- though I had only been with Tom, despite the efforts of several of the boys here when I was in school- I had a long time ago developed somewhat of a crush on one of my neighbors. He was a young airman, from the base, who lived with the Maki’s next door to us. He rented a room from them for a few months, and every time I saw him jump into their pool, I was hard pressed not to do more than notice. Eventually he moved away, and that possible affair had evaporated into the “maybe could have happened category of my memories.

This was twenty years ago, when I was raising my last preschooler, and back then I was nowhere close to being as religious as I am now. I was never a loose woman, and Tom was no more a drinker or druggie than he was a cheater, but I was far from being as close to God’s word as I am now. Whatever may or may not have happened, if my temporary neighbor had ever decided to try it, was now irrelevant.

Time had changed us, just as it changes all people, and I knew it- when the last of our children left the house five years ago, I found myself on the cusp of fifty and bored out of my mind.

Maybe some women struggle to clean up after just themselves, but when you are used to tending to the needs of five other people and then find yourself with just one, you suddenly have a lot of time on your hands. I would have spent more time with Tom, sex or no sex, but just as our love life was cold, the economy here heated up.

Oil creates jobs, and with nothing better to do, I found myself seeing Help Wanted signs everywhere around town. As well as the rattetrap minivans and trucks of the economic migrants- or oilfield trash, as my husband calls them- I started noticing Corvettes and Mercedes on the streets of Minot. My husband himself, a safety inspector for the state, had more than he could handle, and was working sixty hours every week minimum. While we did not need the money, as our house and vehicles are all paid for, he told me that I should consider going back to work.

Why not make hay while the sun is shining, as he put it?

In our state, all jobs are listed through a publicly funded agency (a good side of our Scandinavian ancestors socialist nature), and I went down to the local office with the idea that they would have nothing for me. I hadn’t worked since I was nineteen outside of the home, and while I had volunteered a lot in the PTA and Girl Scouts, I was certain that nobody would want a woman my age as a trainee.

The state agent told me she had the perfect job for me- it was as the assistant manager of a steakhouse that was being built right here in Minot. While the job paid hourly, and she could could not guarantee the amount of hours I would get every week, it would be ideal for someone with my past experiences of raising a family and assisting with volunteer events. I didn’t need a set amount of money coming in every week, so I figured, why not- it will get me out of the house, and it will be interesting to do something new.