I am a former pastor that had to resign because of what I did with a shy church wife.

I'm going to delete this after a while, so enjoy, my fellow sinners.

I used to love being a member of a church, and one of its leaders. But it turns out, I also really loved the power and attention that comes with it.

I was the young pastor. Who sang. The youth group loved me. The old ladies did too. I was like a prophet on Sundays. I would come back from church so charged up that my wife knew I had some energy I needed to get out. I was usually inside my her by about 12:42 pm every Sunday. The better my sermon went, the harder I fucked her. Sometimes I would have her lay on the bed with her head hanging off and just fuck her throat while squeezing her tits. She was at my service.

This wasn't a sin. God delights when we take pleasure in our betrothed. It wasn't a sin when I would make her sit on her knees and beg for my cum that I would blast on her face , neck and breasts.

I noticed that whenever we had a Sunday off, I would be unbalanced. My balls were used to creating extra semen on the sabbath. I realized I have a very very high sex drive. My wife knows this.

And so, when I would counsel other couples in church, I always had a very subtle but understanding approach to talking about the sex life of married Christian couples. I would encourage them to absolutely ravage each other. (In much more poetic and proverbial terms like, "cherish and celebrate your love for god. He has brought you forth to passionately multiply … and sometimes cum down each others throats 😃 ")

But sometimes you meet couples that have next to no sex drive. And it's a privilege to help them explore. Sometimes I'll tell a couple to wake up on Sunday morning and "give pleasure to their partner" … and sometimes I can tell when they walk through the church doors that they are glowing from just recently fucking each others brains out.

So anyway. There was this younger couple. Maybe 30. Around my age. I would counsel them. And anytime intimacy would come up, the husband would get uncomfortable. The wife was so pretty and so shy. She would always hold her little hands tightly together in her lap. She would wear these beautiful sundresses. She was gorgeous. One Sunday after church, before I headed home to absolutely pound my wife … this young same woman approached me. Let's call her Emily.

I was getting into my car, most of the congregation had gone. I was buckling myself up, envisioning my wife's asshole that I was 15 minutes away from slipping my lubed up cock inside, when she waved at me and came over to my car.

She needed a ride. Her husband was sick, and she had gotten a ride from a friend of hers. But she left. So I said, of course, and moved my Bible and my notes off of the passenger seat as she walked around the front of my car in a beautiful sunflower summer dress.

She lived out in the country. she told me about her life. She was funny. She was much less shy when her husband wasn't around. She laughed at my jokes. Loud. She told me how much she appreciated our counseling sessions. It brings her comfort to know that passion is not a sin.

When she said the word passion I was reminded that for the last several weeks in a row, at this very minute, I was usually using my wife like a fuck toy by now.

I put the thought out of my head.

She got quiet for a moment. And said her husband doesn't always feel that way. And eventually she started to cry. And I instinctively put my arm on her shoulder.

And then she really started to cry.

I pulled the car over on this country road. Wrapped my arms across the middle console, and said repeatedly, "it's okay." This was a line I crossed. Though I convinced myself it was okay.

I didn't noticed at first, but I was stroking her hair. She firmly held me back. Her arms squeezing me. Crying into my neck. I felt her tears. And her breath.

I was very, very hard.

Thank you, she whimpered, as her tears and breath got under control.

But we stayed in our embrace. "Thank you," she repeated. In a deeper tone. Clearer.

I could still feel her breath. I heard her breathe me in, Like she was smelling me. I was wearing my favorite cologne.

We sat there holding each other. Then I felt a slight touch on the front of my pants.

I didn't move.

It was her fingers. Shyly touching the bulge in my dockers. But not too shy. She exhaled deeply has her hand started to stroke my cock through the top of my jeans.

As horny as I've always been … this has never happened outside of my marriage. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't fantasize about it.

I gently pulled away. Looked down at her hand sliding back and forth on the mound in my pants. I silently looked up at her. Her mouth was open. Her eyes were watching her hand. I instinctively throbbed my cock toward her, one strong pulse that made my cock move under my pants. She almost jumped.

She looked at me with eyes that were mixed with innocence and wanton lust.

I wanted her lips on my cock.

But then her phone rang. It was her husband. She recoiled from my crotch. And reverted back to her shy self.

I drove her the rest of the way home in silence. And waved to her husband as I dropped her off.

I came in my wife three times that day.

That ride with Emily didn't get me fired.

It was the next counseling session.

I opened the door to my office and it was just her. Her husband was out of town for work. She came in and sat down in front of my desk.

There was a long silence. And then she said, "after this, could you give me a ride home?" With a smile.

Do you wanna hear what happened next, little sinner?