The Devil Comes Out at Night Pt. 06

I've enlisted the help of an editor to help me clean up my messy sentences and typos. A big thank you to her! She's much smarter than me, and prettier, too, but I'm stubborn so any remaining mistakes are my own.

Now, let's rejoin our story and see what Margaret and her friends have been up to...

-

I laughed the other day when Jeana called me a "functioning sex-a-holic." It's the truth of it that made me laugh. I mean, how many other church secretaries are swingers? I'm pretty sure I might be the only one.

Those of you who've accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior know how your Christian church becomes a part of your life. I'm the secretary of ours, and my husband Donald is an usher and has been a Deacon in the past, back when his job wasn't keeping him so busy. Bob Smythe — AKA 'the man who fucks me regularly' — is an Elder, and his lovely wife Jeana serves on various committees. Our wonderful pastor, Reverend James, is an important man in all of our lives, and of course he's my boss as well — I spend three full days every week with him in the office and see him and work with him some on Sundays.

So imagine my surprise when Bob decides to role-play the part of the good Reverend, on a sexy Tuesday night in my bedroom, when Jeana and Donald were having their own sexy fun down on the couch in my living room. Of course my part in the role-play was that of the good church secretary, or maybe the not-so-good one. Bob improvised the scene and God only knows why I played along. The Devil was definitely calling the shots that night.

A few nights later, Friday at Bob and Jeana's house (yes, we got together with the Smythe's twice that week, three times if you include Saturday on the boat), we were having our first cocktail when Jeana said, "I want in on the Reverend James role-play. Bob said you guys had fun with it."

"We had fun with it, yes," I said, feeling a bit embarrassed, "but it was very...inappropriate. I felt like we shouldn't have done it."

"Oh, poo," Jeana scoffed. "Like anything we do with our clothes off is 'appropriate'. I wanna do it. Don, honey, you can do a deep voice, can't you?"

"Certainly, Jeana," he said reverberantly, sounding eerily like Reverend James.

"Oh good!" she said, smiling. "Yes, this'll be fun. Let's go up to the office. You guys can watch."

We all went upstairs and she asked Donald to sit at Bob's desk and play the Reverend, 'counseling' her, while Bob and I watched silently from the loveseat-size couch against the wall. Jeana sat down in the chair opposite the desk and started right in.

"I must confess, Reverend," she said. "I'm afraid I'm not a good Christian wife. I'm just not interested in sex anymore."

"Not interested in sex? But you need to have a child," Donald/Reverend said. "And you need to raise it Christian. The Church needs babies to keep it alive, to keep the money flowing."

"So I should just fuck like a slut and then force the little tyke that pops out of me to think the way we do?"

"There are no sluts in our congregation, Jeana, but copulation is a skill you should be versed in. All of our women should be versed in it. We need those babies!"

"I'm sorry, but my husband Bob is just not interested in me anymore. I think he has a woman on the side. I won't tell you who it is; you wouldn't believe it."

"So...he doesn't copulate with you regularly?" Donald/Reverend asked, his eyes roaming down Jeana's tight fitting dress. "I'm surprised. I certainly would, if I were your husband."

"You would?" Jeana fanned her face with her hand, the way a southern belle does. "Oh, Reverend James, it does my heart good to hear a man say that, especially a man as handsome as you. Can a woman like me, of my age and appearance, still harden up a man? I mean, copulation isn't possible without a good stiff erection. We can speak freely here in your office, can't we?"

"Yes, of course, speak freely, Jeana. Margaret's working at her desk, but the walls are insulated. I have many delicate conversations and situations in here, as you might imagine."

"So...do you think I can?" Jeana asked, sounding impossibly vulnerable. She pulled her short dress up her thighs even more than it was, and then she deftly unfastened two buttons at the top of the pretty dress, letting her cleavage and a little bit of her bra show. "Do I still have what it takes to arouse a man, at my age?"

Donald/Reverend cleared his throat nervously. "To...um...harden up a man? Most definitely, Jeana. I don't like to play favorites with my flock, and you must never tell my wife this, but I've long thought you're one of the most beautiful, desirable women in our congregation."

"Really?" Jeana's eyes drifted down to the desk, as if she was x-raying through it to see Donald/Reverend's bulging crotch. "Have I...hardened you?"

"You have," Donald/Reverend said. "Perhaps if I...help you to remember the God-like pleasure of copulation. Its life-giving force shouldn't be denied."

"No, it shouldn't," Jeana said, her voice soft and wavering. "You'll help me? Help me to remember? I'll be forever in your debt, forever willing to help you, in any way, at any time."

Jeana stood from her chair and went to the desk and bent over the side of it. Her short dress rode up her ass, showing half of her pretty panties. She reached behind herself with both hands and pulled them down enough to bare her ass.

"Bob doesn't touch me anymore," she said, her voice quiet with embarrassment. "Maybe I'm ugly down there. Will you look at me? Am I ugly?"

Donald/Reverend got up from his desk and his eyes looked over her ass and the glistening carnality of her pussy peeking out from between the tops of her thighs. "You're far from ugly," he said. "Far, far from ugly. May I lay hands on you, Jeana?"

"Yes, Reverend James. Please do."

Bob and I looked at each other, amazed at the quality of the role-play improvisation. I put my hand on the big lump in his pants and felt the hard warmth under the fabric and we turned our attention back to the performance.

Jeana moaned when Donald/Reverend's hands touched her bare ass. Her head was turned, the side of her face resting comfortably on some papers on the desk. She moaned again when his fingers found the wetness of her pussy.

"Ohhh! It's been so long since a man has touched me there. I remember. Bob used to...he used to open his pants, and touch me with his hardness."

"Would you like me to do that?" Donald/Reverend asked. "I'll need your permission."

"Yes, of course," Jeana said, her voice getting breathless from the fingering. "You're my Reverend. You have my permission, to do...everything."

Donald unzipped his pants and held his hard cock in his hand, brushing the tip of it across Jeana's beautiful ass, and up through the crack of it.

"Ohhh, I remember!" she sighed. "I remember! And then he'd tease me with it, at my opening. And then he'd push it in, just a little at a time. Oh, Reverend James! Yes!... That's it!... Yes!... I'm remembering!... More!... Give me more!... Fill me!"

Bob and I watched Donald's cock disappear into her pussy, and then he was fucking her, nice and slow.

"Oh my God!" Jeana sighed. "My good God in Heaven!"

Donald picked up the pace and we could hear their bodies coming together, the flesh of them slapping softly and then louder.

"Yes Reverend James! I've been wanting a meeting with you for so long! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!"

Donald was fully into it, fucking fast and hard. Jeana's arms were spread wide, grasping the desk at its front and its back, hanging on for dear life. Bob's antique desk was rocking. A pen and pencil holder fell over with a thud and the lamp wobbled and barely stayed upright; I thought for sure it would crash to the floor. Jeana had an amazing orgasm, her arms flailing, sending papers flying. When it was over and she didn't move, her face sideways again, resting on the wooden desktop.

"Ohhh, God!" she said, back to her normal voice. "That was...wild!"

"You're tellin' me!" I said. "I have to work with that guy, you know!"

Jeana laughed, still resting there, bent over the desk, with cum leaking out of her pussy, dripping down the inside of her thigh.

—

Writing that last section makes me realize how red-hot my life has become, and also how easily Donald and I have slipped into the swingers' lifestyle. I still wonder if the oppressive heatwave the Northeastern United States is suffering under has something to do with it. It's that God and the Devil thing again, with Mother Nature thrown in the mix. Sometimes I wonder: is she their bitch? God asks for a beautiful day and she gives it to him. The Devil asks for a tornado or a flood and she gives it to him. I picture the Devil fucking her mouth so hard that she gags, and I picture her fucking God nice and slow, Mother N. on top, with a luminous smile on her face. This summer God and the Devil have conspired, stretching me to both ends of the spectrum of good girl and slut, and they've forced Mother Nature to whip up a 50/50 mix: beautiful sunny days that are so hot people are dying. Our church opened its doors to the elderly and any local family that needs some relief; an air-conditioned place to watch some television or play some cards.

My own way to deal with the heat is somewhat perverse: I exercise in it, out in my backyard, with the sun blazing down on me. I'm thoroughly brown with suntan this summer — an all-over tan thanks to many naked days on the Smythe's boat — so I slather up with strong sunscreen, put on a bikini and take my exercise mat out on the back lawn. I was out there on Thursday of that week, two days after the Smythe's were at our house. It was the morning after a day at work with Reverend James. That day at work was the strangest I'd ever experienced; Bob's role playing of the dear Reverend was every bit as spot-on as Donald's was on Friday night with Jeana. When Bob launched into it with me my mind had gone right were it shouldn't have gone, to a flesh-and-blood-real fantasy where Bob's big cock belonged to the Reverend, and the kindly, handsome leader of our church fucked me until I had a screaming orgasm that left my vocal cords raw. It was wildly intense and I got much more lost in the dream of it than I should have. I've been doing that a lot lately: letting myself get lost more than I should. It happened again that morning, on the lawn behind my house...

I was exercising as usual, burning fat in the sauna-like heat. That odd day at work the day before was on my mind, and so was Bob's cock. I'd been doing a low-plank exercise, sort of like a push-up except you don't move; you just hold yourself in the upper part of a push-up until your abdominal muscles can't take it any more, and then, if you're like me, you collapse and lie there on your stomach until you can move again. I was a long way into my exercise routine at that point, with sweat shining on every inch of me. The sun was brutal and I felt light headed; that's the only excuse I can think of for what happened next. For a reason only the Devil knows, my hand was under me, and my fingers found their way into the front of the bottom of my bikini. I should have known my next door neighbor Martin would be watching, but I was in that lost place. It overtook me so easily. The sun on my back, the comfortable feel of my body weight pressing against the exercise mat. I slipped away in an instant.

After I realized Martin had been watching I thought about how it must have looked: me flat on my face, with my ass thrust upward and my hips rocking, fucking my eager fingers. I actually had a lovely orgasm, and my face turned toward his house when it overtook me; I'm sure he saw my blissful closed-eyed happiness. He was out in his yard, clipping the hedge between us as quietly as I've ever heard it done. I usually talk to him when he's out, and show off my bikini tits and my slimmer body that I'm proud of these days, but that day I rolled up my mat and walked away silently, back into my house. The oddest thing is that I wasn't the least bit bothered by it all.

—

When we parked our car at the marina on Saturday we could see Bob and Jeana standing on the dock next to their boat, talking to another couple. I assumed they were boat owners, marina neighbors. Donald and I gathered our things from the car and we walked toward them, me in my yellow bikini and Donald in shorts and a t-shirt. The couple looked younger and younger as we got closer. They both had lots of tattoos. He was shirtless and wore long, baggy shorts that were well below his knees, with chunky, expensive-looking sneakers on his feet. The girl wore jean shorts, the modern kind that are artificially faded, extremely so, with frayed gouges that looked like they were made by a grinder. Her simple white t-shirt was stretched and loose, with a huge neck opening that was shifted over one shoulder, showing off the strap of the pink bikini that was underneath. When we reached Bob and Jeana's dock the young couple was just turning to leave.

"Hi folks," the guy said. "Beautiful day today. Have fun out there."

The girl said hi, and they were on their way, walking away down the docks toward another part of the marina.

"He's cute," I said. "Friend of yours?"

"We've seen them around," Bob said. "He's got that big cigarette boat over there. They asked us if we want to party with them sometime."

"Do you know what that means, Margaret?" Jeana asked, smirking.

"Yes, I know what that means! I'm not from the dark ages, you know! They really asked you that?"

"They've...seen us," Bob said. "It's all of us they want to party with."

"They've seen us?" I said, clueless.

"More than once, I think."

Jeana was still smirking. "The girl, Nikki, how did she put it?" She altered her voice to imitate a younger woman: "It's so cool that you guys are so out there with it, doin' it up there on the roof and stuff. That's hot."

Bob smiled at her imitation.

"The roof?" I asked

Jeana pointed to the flying bridge, and a vision of Bob and Cynthia flashed into my mind. I was shocked. "She said that? Bob! We told you you shouldn't be doing that up there!"

"I know," Bob said, embarrassedly. "But Cynthia had me all turned on. What was I supposed to do?"

Jeana slapped him playfully. "You're supposed to not fuck her up there were the whole world can see! You guys were waving around like a big flag!"

Bob tried to modify the subject a bit, away from his x-rated exhibitionism. "Ty said they party at a place called the Swingtime Social Club. It's right outside of town somewhere, but they were wondering about hooking up on the boats, too."

Cynthia arrived as we were talking. She was bikini topped, with cute low-rise athletic shorts around her bootylicious middle and white flip-flops on her feet. We told her about the unexpected visit from the young couple named Ty and Nikki.

"How old are they?"

"He's late twenties maybe, she's younger," Bob said. "What do you think, hun, twenty-three, twenty-four?"

"Too young for you, you horn-dog," Jeana said.

"It was you all bent over with your tits swinging that got their attention," I said to Cynthia.

"What do you mean?"

"Last weekend. When you were up there, with Bob," I said, pointing at the flying bridge above us. "We were out in the middle of the lake, remember?"

Cynthia nodded sheepishly.

"We really should be more careful," Jeana said. "We've all gotten a little too used to this."

"I'm sorry," Cynthia said.

"Jeana's right," I said, my mind flashing briefly to masturbating in my backyard. "We really need to think a little more. It's not like we're halfway across the country. We're basically right in our hometown. There's no telling who's out on this lake."

"I think where we anchor is fine," Jeana said. "It's sort of private there, but no more out-in-the-middle-of-the-lake shenanigans, okay?"

"Got it," Bob said. "Let's shove off, shall we?"

As Bob steered the big boat out of the marina and into the lake's choppy waves I could tell Cynthia felt bad about things. She was quieter than usual, and nervous energy kept her either busy in the kitchen or pacing.

"Are you okay, Honey?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Have I become a slut?" she asked. "I mean...a real one?"

"No!" I said. "Hey, you didn't do anything wrong. All of us have been letting the fun overrule our common sense. Heck, we wouldn't be here otherwise. Most of it's good. Really good, right? We're all happy we're here."

"I'm happy I'm here. I love you guys. I just wonder sometimes."

"How slutty is too slutty, you mean? I think about that, too," I said. "We're just...somewhere different, that's all. But we're not the only ones. That couple at the marina, what are their names, Ty and Nicki? They prove it, right? What we're doing's not so uncommon. Well, it kind of is, but, you know what I mean, right? It's just another way of life."

Cynthia nodded. I didn't tell her that seeing her so worried made me worry, too. Maybe worry is the wrong word, but I was doing a little soul searching, thinking about my neighbor Martin, and the church, and Reverend James, and the nosy nellies in the congregation who'd been eying the five of us even more than usual. That's when I kissed Cynthia, pushing her back against the kitchen cabinets. The boat rocked slowly under our feet as it cut through choppy waves, and the engines droned with their deep vibration down under the floorboards. Cynthia moaned into my mouth and held me like she needed some love. We made our way onto the biggest of the beds and were fully involved, all tangled up naked, when Jeana came looking for us.

"I was wondering where you two went," she said, sitting on the other bed, just a few feet away from us.

"We were both feeling a little out of sorts. It doesn't feel right having the world know about us."

"Ty and Nikki, you mean? Yeah that kind of freaked me out, too. Of course all Bob can talk about is Nikki's tattoos."

I smiled. "Want to join us? It's really sexy being in here when the boat's moving."

Jeana smiled her sweet smile, and she took off her bikini. It was three girls on a bed as we crossed the lake. Cynthia was cumming, letting out all of her tension, when the drone of the engines slowed and we felt smoother water under us.

"That was good timing, Sweetheart," Jeana said to her.

We heard Donald's soft footsteps on the side deck, and then the sound of the anchor chain lowering from its winch. The engines went silent and we could hear the red-winged blackbirds sounding the alarm at our arrival in the quiet cove. It was so peaceful. I looked at Cynthia and she smiled softly. We all knew we were where we wanted to be.

The girls pushed me down on my back; I was halfway gone when Donald and Bob found us. I looked at them as my orgasm built to its climax, and then I lost them, and everything else, for a few blissful moments.

"This is a nice surprise," Bob said. "Are we nesting today? Worried about prying eyes?"

"Hold Jeana down," Cynthia said. "I wanna make her cum."

I rolled onto my side and sat up and made myself useful, holding one of Jeana's slender arms tight against the mattress. Cynthia had her spread out nicely, so I hooked one of my legs around one of Jeana's, Donald held her other arm and Bob took control of her other leg, spreading it even wider, holding it tight in his grasp. Cynthia's mouth moved in on Jeana's pretty little pussy.

Jeana moaned. "Ohhh, I think I like this..."

She tugged at her human restraints, but we all held firm. She looked beautiful that way, her breasts stretched tight, her nipples hard, her tummy flat and tensed up firm like a supermodel. She moaned repeatedly, in breathy exhales, rising in volume as Cynthia worked her magic.