Church , life and living.
My blog doesn’t hide the fact that my main kink is bondage. I like to be tied up, whipped and fucked. But even with these deviant practices as part of my sexual repertoire I find there is nothing quite like having sex in an unusual place to add even more spark to my sex life. I would highly recommend it, particularly if, like me, you are a sexual adrenalin junkie.
I was schooled by nuns in a convent and went to church religiously at least every Sunday. The smell of church is a peculiar thing – a common stench that is picked up upon entry to any church anywhere. It’s slightly musty, woody yet spicy aroma. I am very susceptible to the way things and people smell, so when I enter a church the air I breathe throws back all sorts of memories. As a child that odour would literally make me swoon at times – and came in useful as an excuse to leave the service early.
Church ~ feeling like a foreigner
I gave up going to mass about age 16. Growing out of the youth club and church disco there was no longer any reason to attend. From then on when near a church I always felt like a foreigner, my beliefs had changed now – I was outside, looking in. Even when I entered a church for a wedding funeral or any other religious ceremony, I didn’t belong. I was not part of the congregation. I also was quite sure I was not meant to be part of it any more. Looking up at Jesus on the cross I felt removed, as if he had never been part of my life. He had become alien to me.
Years past and one of my children took to the village church. Free juice after school lured her in. I had gone through an excruciatingly painful separation where vast amounts of bitterness and badness had been thrown at me. I joined her at the church and felt a karma. Now looking at the cross I felt Jesus open his arms and welcome me. In my head he didn’t mind that I had turned my back on the church. He was humane and suddenly I didn’t feel like an outsider any more. It wasn’t that my convictions had changed but they seemed to harmonise into a faith at that time so I didn’t feel like a foreigner any more.
Within the village church congregation I could do good to combat the bad that had been inflicted upon me. It made me feel better, and then after a certain amount of recovery I once more retreated knowing it was time but thankful for being part of it.
Nowadays, I do like to wonder round old churches and take in the atmosphere and splendid setting. Recently, while visiting a very remote part of rural England, my man and I passed a run down but extremely beautiful church and popped in to look at the stained glass. The building was deserted with apparently no service approaching. Immediately I smelt the familiar church aroma and felt almost at home. We got back to where we were staying and after dinner he said,
“Go and put on some sexy date night clothes and red lipstick”.
I did just that and armed with a bottle of sparkling wine and a camera we got in the car. I had to smile when he drove up to the church. Looking at him I asked,
“You can’t be thinking of having date night here?”
That’s exactly what was on his mind. We went in and sat on the front pew drinking the fizz.
I glanced around at the heavy leaded church windows and the colours shimmering on the stone floor as the sun shone through the stained glass. It was truly an amazing setting for our date night. I was wearing a slightly transparent black dress over stockings and lacy black knickers.
For modesty’s sake I was also wearing a long black light weight jacket. But the excitement and anticipation certainly warmed me and I soon discarded the coat.
Sinning in the Church
After the wine he led me down to the end of the church where there were some stairs and ordered me to put my hands forward onto them – raising my arse towards him. He yanked down the black lacy knickers and lifted the back of my short see through dress. He ordered me not to move and went out to the car. I knew what he had returned with when I felt two delicious lashes from one of his home made whips land across my arse cheeks. The tendrils are very soft so the pain is followed up by the caress of the strands. It really is bitter-sweet. Really I wanted more from this tool but my man had other ideas.
I heard his flies undo and felt his cock thrust into my cunt without deliberation.
I held onto the stairs as he pumped into me hard and fast. Glancing down I could see my breasts swaying with the motion and the sexy sight of his Cuban heeled boots between my legs. I could envisage him standing steady fucking me, rooted to the spot. I moved my legs in between his so that my thighs were then putting pressure on the shaft of his cock as he pumped into me. He groaned in enjoyment. I really get a kick out of him taking pleasure in using me as he wishes. He was definitely thrusting for his own selfish need and I was finding it extremely horny.
Squirting about to come
He pulled me from the stairs and laid me on a free-standing pew. Grabbing my waist he pulled me along the seat until my cunt was at the end. Kneeling, he began to fuck me again; taking handfuls of my ample breasts as he did so. I looked up at the ornate gilded ceiling and momentarily smiled to myself. All those years ago I had not foreseen that I would one day find myself fornicating in a church.
At this point I could feel myself about to come but selfishly he withdrew his cock and came round to my head raising it with his hand. Between my legs I felt myself squirt onto the church pew, from all the urgent intercourse that had just taken place. He placed his cock against my mouth. I began to lick his knob looking up at him. He looked down , held my head with one hand and began fucking my face. I gasped for breath and he pulled back slightly and let me use my blow job skills. Holding his balls and rhythmically putting pressure on his cock with my mouth I made him spurt all over my face and breasts. So another dress for the wash!
Regaining composure, he put his head between my legs and began to flick his tongue over my clitoris. Coming up to caress my breasts and simultaneously stroking my cunt with his fingers I found release and moaned loudly as I climaxed.
Dusk had arrived as we left the church. Thankfully nobody saw us arrive and nobody saw us leave. At least, not as far as we know.
Because of my past experience with religion I knew that the fun we had in that church was right. Kismet…
See who else is squirting by kissing the lips below…
Wicked Wednesday #276: Foreigner