Author note and Disclaimer: I don't own anything except a copy and essays and assignments of The Crucible.
A Baptism
The congregation await their newest member, for her baptism. It has been a while since they had a full water baptism.
The Reverend was looking forward to it, they had noticed a change in his felicity.
The water was warm, it should have been hotter, but it will suffice, there is no steam rising.
The Elders are holding hands, with the Reverend head of the group, and she is enclosed in their circle.
They let the Reverend go to prepare. He goes to his change room.
Mr White looks down at her, nodding his congratulations. Mrs White gives her a Christian sister hug.
She goes to her change room. The corridor is long, dark and musty smelling. The carpet had ruined during the month of heavy rains.
Being a tiny young lady, the walls seem so much higher. The soft lighting from the other end, makes the corridor even longer.
Three large doors on the left, separated by side tables with insignificant items on top.
The two doors on the right, she's never seen in. Separating them is a small bookshelf with items of importance and a layer of thin dust.
As she walks by his door way, she notes he didn't shut it, he only pushed it to. She oh so gently touches it, and it moves as commanded.
Putting her little face forward to peek a look, her mouth hangs open, her eyes widen as she catches sight of her Rev pulling his shirt over his head. She'd never seen him without his tie, and now she sees his undershirt.
He folds the shirt so perfectly. His back to her, he lifts his undershirt up, and exposes his muscular back. She covers her mouth, and bites her finger.
Under his formal wear, he has the body of a man, a real man.
Undoing his belt, she then hears him unzip his pants, leans over and pulls a leg out and then the other.
He has black speedos on. Oh my God! She thinks, her Reverend wears speedos.
He folds his pants and sits them under his shirts. Removing his socks, he matches them up and sits them with his shoes.
He unfolds the baptism gown, it's pure white. Reaching up and under it, he lifts his hands up above his head and puts his arms in to the sleeves. Pushing his head through, the rest falls over his body.
He's nearly ready. He reaches for his Bible, and finds the necessary verse.
He sits to pray, crosses himself and puts the Bible on the side table.
She finds that interesting, because he normally holds the Bible when he prays with the congregation and individuals.
"Dearest Lord," He's going to pray out loud, and she's going to hear it. She closes her eyes, and clasps her hands to join his thoughtful prayers.
"Please let this baptism go well? I pray to you, that as I lean her back and push her under the water that my thoughts remain pure. I ask that my mind not wander to what my hands are feeling. Her body so slender and delightful. Her breasts so perky and desirable. Her hair so soft, sensual and smelling divine.
As I push her down, I wish to not think of pushing her to my ... I will not imagine her lips wrapped around it, gently, lovingly kissing it, dragging her tongue over the surrounds, length and bredth.
I will assume the correct respectable position and not that of turning her to the edge of the baptismal bath, lifting her baptism gown up and thrusting my ... in to her. I will not repeatedly thrust in to her, or hold her arms tight with one hand and move the other over her, memorizing feelings and thoughts for later.
I will not kiss her roughly over her beautiful mouth, tasting her delicate purity. Feeling her tongue with mine, her gentle lips accepting mine.
I will not rough my beard over her ... with it. As I don't push her onto my desk, drag her ... off, I will also not ... and exudes.
Until I have these impure thoughts checked, I will continue to wear this metal contraption ... and search for your Heavenly gifts.
I will continue to do your good work, as you see fit…."
He pulls the door open, she stumbles forward, he grabs her thoughtful prayer bound hands, and shuts it quickly. And locks out, anyone who may try to enter.
Taking her to his desk, he lifts her to stand on it.
She wants to jump down, but also wants to stay and see what else he wishes to pray and reveal.
He lifts her skirt, then rips it downward, the buttons and zipper breaking.
He studies her panties, like a perfect art exhibit. He traces the lace and frill, stopping at where her ... would be. He circles there, and circles, circles, circles. She moves to the touch, reaching to hold his head of hair.
He looks up at her, fear and worry in his eyes. A bitten lip, and a little tongue held out. She smooths his hair and cups his face.
He looks back at her underwear and brings his face closer to smell her. Nuzzling in, breathing in, his hands hold her buttocks and he humms with delight.
He bites through the material, and tastes her wetness, leaking through.
Ripping the underwear off, her legs are scratched in the process.
He pulls her roughly down to sit on his desk.
He opens the servicing of his underwear and pulls out his fully erect self.
Hands on both of her hips he positions himself, pulls her to him as he pushes himself to her.
They both feel the urgency and necessary completion of this joined union.
Leaning hard against one another, she moves her head to angle and brushes her hair aside. He leans in, kisses, nibbles and licks her neck. As he thrusts in he also attempts to bite her.
She pulls away, leaning back and grabbing the desk, she pushes herself further on to him.
He pulls her legs up to his shoulders, grabs her arse and finds his rhythm. ... some more.
The warmth and surrounding heat of her, the God delivered wetness and natural lubrication have him spell bound.
The suffocating enclosure of her around his member, her squeezing of him, the startle realization of where they are… hurries his thoughts.
Inn, in, and inn. Her legs wrap around his waist, his grip pushes finger's bones in to her on either side of her hip bones.
And inn, and grunt and groan, and nnggg and nnnngggg!
Hope you found this a nice read ...