Reluctantly Deflowered by Pastor Graham Read Online Free

could have left it at that, could have
walked away, and I would probably have been fine. Instead, I
blurted out, “But its you I have these thoughts about, Pastor.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes, I, I,” I said, bursting into a fresh
round of tears.
    He squatted down and cupped my face with his
hand. It was rough, callused from hard work, but it felt like silk
against my skin. The beast rose up within me, fueled by his touch
and my sinful lust. Our eyes met and I saw naked, raw hunger in
his, and I knew that I was lost.
    “We'll have to do something about that,
Maggie,” he said, his free hand on my knee. “And Danny can never
know.”
     
    “What?”
    “There's only one way to exorcise these
demons, Maggie,” he said, rising to his full height in front of me.
He was beautiful, but I couldn't do this. In church?
    He didn't answer me, instead, he walked to
the door and locked it. My mind was a flurry of fear and shame. I
couldn't sin in church, not like this, but I was caught in the
throes of desire. This was what I wanted, for this man of God to
take me and use me and show me the ways of the flesh.
    He approached the back of my chair and placed
his hands on my shoulders. I flinched at his touch, but still he
was silent. He reached further down, to the top button of my blouse
and unfastened it. Then, slowly, agonizingly, he repeated the
process, until my blouse was undone. I shivered, exposed to a man
for the first time.
    He took the blouse off and pushed me forward.
I was in such a state of shock that I didn't put up a fight. Pastor
Graham unhooked my bra and took it off. Horrified, I covered my
naked breasts as he spun me around in the chair to face him.
    “Put your hands down, Maggie,” he said. Such
was the force of his voice that I did it without question. My pussy
was wet with desire, already, and growing wetter with each passing
moment.
    He knelt in front of me, a penitent man at
worship. I tried to protest, to deny him, to deny what I was
feeling, but he took my nipple in his mouth and sucked at it. I
moaned, consumed by pleasure. I grabbed the back of his head and
wove my fingers into his thick, dark hair as he nibbled and suckled
on my tits. It was everything I'd fantasized about, only
better.
    He hiked up my skirt, revealing the wanton
slut within me as I twisted and squirmed in the chair. It felt like
I was on fire, my nipples wet with his saliva as he alternated
between them, teasing them until they were rock hard. His hand
found my panties, soaked in the juices of my shame, my arousal, and
I whimpered. His touch was electric, and, when he caressed my clit
with his finger, I arched my back in response.
    He backed off, grabbed my skirt in both hands
and tore it from me. I was shocked, nearly naked and spread out
like a whore for Pastor Graham. He said nothing, fixing me with his
eyes as he grabbed the waistband of my panties.
    “Oh, Pastor Graham,” I said. “No, we can't do
this.”
    “We can, Maggie,” he said and pulled. I
opened my mouth to protest again, but he covered it with one
mammoth hand as his own mouth descended on my virgin pussy. My eyes
widened as the tip of his tongue traced a trail between my folds.
It was sweet and agonizing, a teasing hint of unending pleasure. He
removed his hand and pulled me forward, granting himself full
access to my dripping snatch.
    And I was powerless in his grasp. His mouth
was a wild, wonderful thing, sucking at my clit as his tongue
flogged it. I mewled and twisted, grinding my hips up into that
magic orifice as he ate me. The pressure built within me, furious
and ready to be unleashed. He could sense it, and he attacked my
swollen clit with his tongue, pressing, swirling, and massaging it
as I skittered toward oblivion.
    It hit me hard. I grabbed his head once more
and pulled him toward me as my body shook and shimmied in the
throes of my thunderous orgasm. It was better than anything I'd
ever felt.
    “Oh, God!” I cried. I could no longer fight
my sinful