Substitute Pussy

Author's note: This totally fictional tale includes righteous infidelity and mature multiracial sex. All sexual activity involves conscious humans age 18+. Views expressed are not necessarily the author's. Your constructive feedback is welcome.

***** Substitute Pussy *****

Fuck Me, Not My Daughter

SUBSTITUTE.

Elle's parents had played that old song by THE WHO so often when she was young. It rang through her now, but with her own new substitutions for Pete Townsend's sardonic lyrics:

Now I'm a substitute for another gal
I look pretty young but my tits are small
The simple tricks I pull are all complicated
I feel kinda old but I'm just backdated, yeah

The music swirling in her head followed the rhythm of the muscular young stud behind her, pounding hard, his long, lean cock pistoning machine-like into her pussy. On elbows and knees; butt up, head down; eyes closed; woof. Beads of sweat ran from her forehead to the pillow cushioning her face. His hands gripped her hips. No fingers tweaked her clit or nipples. This was not about her pleasure, not now.

Substitute me for her
Substitute my coke for beer
Substitute me for your mum
At least I'll get my fucking done

Yes, she was fucking out of wedlock, and not for the first or last time. She was deliberately breaking her ordained-by-heaven wedding vows. She repudiated her sacred promise to allow none but her husband to touch her intimately. But she had made other vows, too. Some promises were more important than wedding vows.

*****

SUBSTITUTE.

Elle's parents had played that old song before they turned to Jesus and shed their sinful secular life. OUT with the old, worldly California culture; IN with the new, holy Oklahoma order. Oh, they did not turn away totally from rock-n'roll; they merely listened to different takes. Elle remembered an anti-Satanic version of that song:

Now I'm a prostitute for another god
I turned away from Aaron's rod
I'll burn in Hell for eternity
Won't you come and burn with me, oh yeah

Of course, the young folk had to sneak listening to that one, and could only speak of it in whispers.

"But I tell you, the implication, it's... obvious. If 'other' gods have prostitutes, then the Lord Jehovah must have prostitutes, too. There's no 'other' unless there's an original, right? This or that, one or the other. Without the one, there is no other. And Aaron's rod of power, it's so masculine... it should just all be so obvious, right?"

The young people huddled in a storm cellar listening to a forbidden cassette player and chattering nervously.

"You better not let anyone hear you say that! You'll be on punishment for a month! Umm, I'm going to prayer meeting now. You better pray a lot too!"

"But if the Lord Jehovah uses all tools to save souls, and holy whores would bring new people to the Truth, then-"

"Shhh! Stop! Oh Lord Jehovah, protect me from evil thoughts..."

Raven-haired eagle-eyed Elle kept her mouth shut and behaved modestly. Her mind stewed but did not boil over with useless questions.

Elle's parents counted quite a coup when they affianced her to Benjamin Briary, a ministry student at a local evangelical college. Ben's eyes were grey; his hair was like wheatstraw. He was lean, thoughtful in an abstracted biblical way, and not unkind. Their wedding night proved he liked sex.

Elle vowed to be a faithful marriage partner, a loving mother and wife, a good housekeeper and helpmeet, a pastor's partner. And she vowed to protect her family in all ways, no matter the cost or pain, so help me Lord Jehovah.

Her matrimonial vows marked the single high point of her life. Ah, but she renewed her family vows daily.

Here is a metaphor: think of strategy versus tactics.

A strategy is an overall plan leading to a goal. Tactics are the nitty-gritty mechanics of how to reach that goal. Wedding vows announced the matrimonial strategy; their marriage certificate hung on the wall like a motto, to glance at in passing. But Elle's family-building tactics were more like a recipe or rule book, constantly referenced and annotated.

Family building is based on love, and trust, and work - and sex.

Ben liked sex. He spent a sinful year between high school and bible college, a wanderjahr in the unholy world, a time of working odd jobs and experiencing odd sex. Not too odd, now; no sheep or whips or young boys (or girls), no stripper-hooker-dominatrix obsessions, nothing like that. But he learned all about orifices and protuberances and how to interface anatomy for pleasure and glory.

"There's nothing in The Bible about 'no blowjobs', is there?" was one of Brother Ben's guidelines. Ben liked guidelines.

"Nothing about pussyeating, butt-fucking, nor simple toys, neither. Husband and wife must cleave together and raise a family for the greater glory of the Lord Jehovah, but nothing says they can't enjoy it." His thin grin expressed more than piety.

Elle was a virgin until her wedding night. She was still an anal virgin the next night; she only accepted that gradually and occasionally. But the new bride quickly learned the techniques and enjoyment of oral and genital sex, from 69ing to the old-in-out-in-out and a slew of interesting positions.

Their marriage was productive. First beautiful Tyra, then clever Trey, then the twins Timmy and Tammy - and that was enough.

"Ben, honey, I've got to put my foot down on this. I'm a helpmeet, not an assembly-line. Yes, the Lord Jehovah did command Man and Woman to go forth and replenish the Earth. Well, there's nine or ten billion people alive now and I think that qualifies as 'replenished'. And I'll be a much better helpmeet if I don't have to birth and raise a football team." Ben reluctantly agreed.

Before Tyra's birth, Ben was ordained a minister and engaged by a suburban congregation outside Albuquerque. Ben rose within the church over the years, eventually becoming senior pastor. And, inevitably, time loaded pastoral duties on his shoulders, and eroded their lively sex life from thrice daily to maybe monthly, and ground Elle into a prim mother-hen.

She adulterously fucked the young stud precisely because she was a mother hen.

*****

SUBSTITUTE.

Her rewritten lyrics washed through Elle's motherly mind while Kazoumi's cum filled the condom inside her.

Substitute my cunt for hers
Substitute the bad for worse
Substitute me for your lust
I'm only doing what I must

His softening cock fell from her. She rolled over and pulled the filled condom off, tied it neatly, and tossed it into the bedside trash tin.

"That one was for you," she whispered, and fingered his cock. Kaz was twenty four years old. His refractory period stretched a bit from his adolescent prime, but he still re-inflated quickly. "I'll get you happy again," and she gave his stiffening cock a lick. "But after that, it's me, and don't forget it." She filled her mouth with his member and sucked vigorously, expertly.

"Oh yeah, you'll get yours, don't worry," Kaz grunted.

"Right about now," she said. She moved on top of the younger Asian man in a 69 position. "You know the deal. You get yours, and I get mine, and everyone goes home happy."

She worked his cock carefully. She felt his lips nibbling at her clit and his tongue circling and probing. She would get satisfaction. Kaz owed her a good rogering after their mutual oral explosions.

It started after Tyra grew tits. Big, lovely tits. Tits that drew male (and even some female) eyeballs and lust. Tits that pumped her full of hormones and drained away her I.Q. Her legs, hips, and face were also quite enticing.

The prey was drawn to the predator.

"But Mom, Kaz just wants to take me out skating!"

"I said NO! He's nearly half again as old as you, and he has a reputation."

"They're just jealous and they're spreading lies! He's not bad!"

"No means no. You will NOT have anything to do with him, do you understand?"

"I hate you! I hate you!" Tyra flounced away in a fiery fit of drama. Elle sighed.

Kazuomi Murai indeed sported a reputation. He inherited handsome genes and good money. He was decently educated, and sly and smooth. And he was fixated, focused on fresh pussy. Like Tyra.

Kaz earned his reputation. He was clever enough to always wrap himself in a condom. He left no trail of Asiatic babies in the vicinity, no DNA traces to convict him of moral crimes, only a string of dazed, deflowered girls.

Nubile Tyra was a walking wet-dream. Proper pastoral parents Ben and Elle certainly did not permit her to wear revealing clothes. But she managed to open her collar and roll up her skirt and boost her shoe heels when she was between home and the Christian academy. She knew how good she looked.

Kaz targeted Tyra and her amazing body. He plied her with compliments and attention and small gifts. She ate it up.

Prim and proper Elle was the prototypical pastor's wife. She was linked into more social networks than a Twitterized octopus. She talked to the mothers of those very same dazed, deflowered girls and heard Kaz's name. She saw Kaz for what he was: a predator stalking her oldest daughter.

Kaz's parents were members of Ben's congregation. Kaz occasionally attended Sunday services. Elle drew him aside as he left his pew one morning.

"Mister Murai, may I speak with you a moment? In my office, please."

Kaz saw no chance for graceful escape. He shrugged and followed her down a hallway to her cozy space. His eyes followed her form as she walked. Just-wide-enough hips swayed nicely between a slim waist and athletic thighs scissoring a long peach skirt showing trim ankles. When she turned, her bra-imprisoned breasts bounced slightly inside her cream turtleneck. Elle previewed Tyra twenty years on. Kaz inhaled her faint jasmine scent and licked his lips.

Elle pinned a COUNSELING: DO NOT DISTURB card to the soundproof office door.

Her 'desk' was a classic walnut secretaire shoved against a wall hung with bright pastoral watercolors. The room was mostly a conversation nook with a long couch and a few stuffed chairs arrayed around a low table. She gestured Kaz to the couch and took a chair herself.

"Mister Murai, I shall be blunt. Stay away from my daughter."

Kaz looked at her calm features. He maintained his own poker face.

"Your daughter, Missus Briary?" He tinged his expression with innocence.

"Yes, Mister Murai, my daughter Tyra. I know you are tempting her, just as you tempt and trap so many girls."

Kaz opened his mouth. She waved her hand to silence him.

"Please do not insult me with denials. Your behavior is most un-Christian but I am not here to lecture you, merely to tell you this: Stay away from my daughter. No touches, no words, no pictures, no gifts, nothing. Total and complete separation." Her gaze was firm; her voice was calm. Only her stomach churned.

Kaz shifted his brain to high gear. "Or?" he asked.

"I am also not here to threaten you. Nor to plead to you. No warning, no begging, only an admonition: Do not."

Kaz sat back on the couch. "Let's suppose for a moment that I am meeting your daughter. You admonish me but do not offer anything, no quid pro quo, no cost-benefit tradeoff, no incentives or disincentives. Do you expect to appeal to my good character, or what?" His eyebrows narrowed.

"I know better than that, Mister Murai. Good character and your un-Christian behavior do not mix. I will suggest you consult your conscience about right and wrong. Consequences may be moral as well as physical or legal."

Elle pressed her lips together. Not a smile, not a frown; a determination.

"Aha, so you are threatening me!" He smiled at his minor triumph.

"Not at all, Mister Murai. I will not be the author of those consequences. Our Lord Jehovah will handle that. I suggest you consider your future."

Kaz almost laughed. Just as many college girls were LUG, Lesbian Until Graduation, so Kaz was ATT, Atheist Till Trouble. He had never witnessed divine intervention in human affairs and feared none such now.

"My future is my concern, now, isn't it, Missus Briary? Without some real factor, some motivation, I have no reason to change what you call my 'un-Christian behavior'. Can you offer me anything?"

Elle leaned forward. Her light turtleneck sweater revealed no cleavage.

"I will offer you these words, Mister Murai. I have vowed to protect my family from all dangers, internal and external, temporal or eternal. When you tempt my daughter, you threaten my family. I do not take such threats lightly. No, I will not threaten in return. But be assured that I will take such action as is necessary. This is not threat or warning, merely a firm assurance."

Kaz did laugh now - a cold, arrogant, self-assured chortle.

"Empty words. I fear no empty words. I fear nothing from you. Other girls' mothers could not stop me. Neither can you, no matter what you do. You can try anything but you'll fail. I get what I want, Missus Briary. Do not stand in my way."

He rose. "I can show myself out, thank you. Tell Tyra that I'll call, will you? Good day, Missus Briary."

"STOP." Her voice was sharp. "SIT! STAY!" Kaz reflexively obeyed.

Elle stood and paced around her office without approaching Kaz's chair. Her thoughts raced in a mad turmoil. What options did she have? Persuasion did not work. She was not morally opposed to threats, but she had nothing for backup, nothing material to serve as deterrence. She was trapped in a carrot-and-stick dilemma. She had no stick. What kind of carrot might work?

Elle had a good relationship with the Lord Jehovah. They chatted constantly. Well, she chatted, and the Lord Jehovah listened, and sometimes answered in ways ranging from obvious to obscure to downright confounding. I can tell or ask the Lord Jehovah anything, she thought, but sometimes the responses are not comforting.

She skipped into speed-praying mode. WHAT SHALL I DO?

An answer slipped into her mind. She did not like it.

She stopped and faced the young man. Young man, she thought. I am half again his age, just as he is half again Tyra's age. Is there some symmetry here?

"Kazuomi Murai, I will make you an offer. You mentioned a quid pro quo, a this-for-that, an exchange of valuta. Well, everything has a price. I want to buy you. Or rather, I want to buy your complete estrangement from my daughter, just as I said before. No contact, nothing."

Kaz shook his head and started to speak. Elle gestured him to slience again.

"Everything has a price. The price is: me. Unlimited sex. Sex whenever you want, as much as you want, but with me. Substitute me for Tyra. Fuck me, not my underage daughter. This is the price I will to pay to protect my family."

Elle stepped to her office window and drew the opaque curtains. She walked to the door and threw the latch. Snik. She turned to face Kaz. She pulled her turtleneck over her head. Her breasts filled a pale, lacey bra. He stared at the wide, dark areolas and swelling nipples visible through the thin cloth. He held his breath. She stared into his eyes.

"Say something, Mister Murai." She linked her fingers behind her head and pressed her breasts outward.

"Ummm, ahhh... what do you mean, 'unlimited sex'? Anything, anytime, anywhere, anyhow?" His face shone with a thin sheen of perspiration.

Elle knew her body was a vessel for the Lord Jehovah. She was responsible for maintaining that vessel, and she took that responsibility seriously. She ate well, exercised well, did not abuse her body with drugs or smokes or drinks or sugar. She was at her physical peak as a woman.

She moved with the mysterious female reach-back and torso-twist that freed her bra; it dropped to the floor. Kaz gasped. Her full, luscious breasts showed the ripeness of maturity with only the slightest hint of sagging.

"No, 'unlimited' does not mean 'unconditional'. No free-for-alls. I'll have sex only with you, nobody else; no buddies, no threesomes, foursomes or moresomes. No video or sound recording, no phones or cameras, no bragging; this is our secret. No anal, no scarring or marking, and no sadomasochistic games. But all the oral and genital fun you can handle. Like this."

Elle knelt between his legs and unfastened his trouser belt and fly. Her warm hands pulled his rising pissworm free. She fondled him; he stiffened.

"Like this," she said. She took him into her mouth.

Twenty years of marriage, and twenty days of happiness, went the joke. Twenty total months of blowjobs, maybe. She did not blow Ben much lately but he had trained her well in their newlywed days. She had not forgotten how.

Twenty months of blowjobs in her married life; not all at once, of course. Twenty years of marriage in the balance. Twenty minutes of confrontation here and now. And Kaz was lucky to last twenty seconds of her oral attention. Well, a bit longer, really; at least forty-five seconds. Not quite twenty thick ropes of semen; closer to five. But they flowed.

The pastor's prim and proper wife swallowed every illicit drop.

Elle rose from her knees and dropped her skirt and panties. She pushed Kaz's thighs and ankles together and stood naked astride his extended legs. She moved forward; her dark spicy muff hovered tantalizingly in front of his face. "Like this," she said. "Use your tongue."

Kaz leaned forward and pulled her butt toward him. She spread her legs wider. His mouth joined her vulva; he tasted her. He licked and lapped with some enthusiasm but little skill. She pushed back and stepped away after a minute of this.

"There are other conditions. Your cock WILL wear a condom whenever it's inside my pussy. You WILL learn to use your mouth and fingers and cock to please me. I heard about those girls you screwed. They never came, never ever. Yes, you can have unlimited sex with me, but it will be GOOD sex, not just using me as a live blow-up doll."

Elle retrieved her clothes. She slipped her panties and skirt up her slim legs and refastened her bra. She did not put her turtleneck on; not yet.

"That's my offer. You just had a free sample. Say something."

Kaz, dazed, nodded. "Wow. So, all the sex I want, anywhere but up your butt, anytime I want, and anywhere? Is that your offer?"

Elle shook her head no.

"The place will be right here mostly, but we can make other arrangements. The time... we'll work that out. Get a cheap throwaway phone, maybe a TracFone from WalMart, and I'll get one too. When you want to fuck, text me. I'll tell you enough of my schedule that you'll know when NOT to call. And if I ever suspect that you're anywhere near Tyra, you're cut off, and you'll have to deal with the consequences of breaking our deal. I won't try to set rules about screwing other girls. That would be pointless. You'll just do what you want. But if you want GOOD sex, you'll behave, and you can have me all you want, within the conditions."

"Yeah? Okay, how about if we start now?" He waggled his willie at her.

"You need training. Shhh," she hushed his attempt to speak, "don't get all macho-man-knows-everything on me, because you obviously don't. Do what I tell you and you'll have the biggest, brightest orgasms in your little life. Don't do what I tell you, and you won't. Try for ANY contact with my daughter, and you won't. You know now what I can do with my mouth and hands. Say something."

Kaz forced a crooked grin.

"I say okay, we have a deal. But we'll seal that deal first, and not just with your mouth. I want inside your pussy. And I want you naked. Now."