Tradhusband

It’s Sunday morning and my husband and I are at church. I look around at the other parishioners - mostly straight couples, some of whom glare at Greg and I. There are enough tolerant folks here to keep us coming back, and at any rate our relationship with God is the most important thing. At least, that’s what my husband says. 

Greg glances at me and I snap my attention back to the pastor, who is sermonizing about the importance of giving back to God just a fraction of what He gives to us. Greg grabs my thigh and squeezes, hard. When we’re out in public I know not to let my attention wander, especially not toward other men. Greg feels strongly about that. 

So I hone in on Pastor Carl, who is young and handsome and speaks with conviction about his love for Christ. When the sermon is over the parish rock band tears into a soaring anthem that gets us all swaying on our feet. Greg puts his arm around me and pulls me into him. I feel him slide his hand down the back of my pants and, quickly, his fingers dip into the crevice of my ass. I’m bare under my pants, per Greg’s stipulations, and my hole is clean and smooth. Greg pushes his finger into me and I hold my composure. Just as quickly as he’s inserted it he takes it out, and I glance around to see if anyone noticed. One person - an older woman named Milly who has never seemed to care for us - frowns at me and shakes her head. 

As the congregation files into the lobby Greg takes any opportunity to grab my ass and press himself against me. It makes me nervous, but I am always to bend to his will. Greg has explained to me, time and again, that he is like God to me, in that I am his property, to be used as he wishes. 

Even still, I feel flustered by the time we make our way to where Pastor Carl stands, greeting parishioners with his beautiful wife and three children. Pastor Carl shakes Greg’s hand with both of his. They are close and regularly spend time together outside of church - doing what I’m not sure, but then it isn’t my place to know. 

I try not to admire Pastor Carl’s strong neck and fit body. He wears sneakers and jeans, and his haircut is hip and modern. Before Greg ushers us away I share a smile with Pastor Carl’s wife. There’s a connection there, a sense of shared responsibility toward our husbands. I wonder if Pastor Carl is as sexually rampant as Greg. 

Back home we barely get in the door before Greg is pulling off my clothes and fucking me over the sofa. He pushes my face into the couch cushion and I feel him filling me up with cum. For a moment I have a vision of Pastor Carl doing the same thing to me, which is startling and scary because I should only be fantasizing about my husband. But I remind myself that our Pastor is a man of God and, therefore, I would do whatever he asked. The thought makes me cum without touching myself, which Greg thankfully doesn’t notice. It takes me a good hour to get the stain off the couch and I curse myself for not having more self control. 

***

Later that week Greg informs me we’ll be having a guest for dinner. I feel frustrated - I hadn’t planned on a guest when preparing dinner, and I’ll have to stop back at the store right then if I am to have time to shower and prepare for Greg before he gets home. 

But I’m ready by the time Greg comes home with our guest, who I’m somehow not surprised to see is Pastor Carl. As we eat I sense something in the pastor's demeanor.

“Such a handsome husband you have, Greg,” Pastor Carl says. “And this meal is delicious.” I smile and say thank you. Greg just nods. 

When we’ve finished I begin to clean up, as normal, but Greg stops me. As Pastor Carl stands in the doorway, gazing at me, my husband instructs me to go upstairs and prepare myself. And suddenly, I understand.

“But, Greg…” I say, and my husband stops me. He says that the pastor has needs that only I can meet. Needs his wife can’t meet. A need to fuck hard, deep, and raw. 

I have a moment of panic as I prepare and shower, thinking of the vow I made to God, to be true to my husband, his and his alone. Still, I think, that vow was to honor and obey, and how could anyone deny that that is what I’m doing? A warm numbness flows over me like the water cascading down my fit body. I think of Pastor Carl and what he might do to me, and my cock rises with the shower steam.  

My heart is fluttering as I prepare myself in the bedroom, stripping nude and presenting myself on all fours with my ass spread. 

“Praise God,” Pastor Carl say in his deep voice when he opens the door and sees me. Greg is behind him. “You’re a lucky man,” Pastor Carl says as I hear him strip off his clothes. When he’s nude, he and Greg lay their hands on me and Carl says a prayer, thanking God for that which he is about to receive. 

My husband leaves the room. Pastor Carl asks me to look upon him. He’s naked and beautiful - all tan skin and gym-built muscle, with tattoos covering his arms and legs. His cock is shaved and hard and hanging heavily from his body. I note that it is slightly larger than my husband’s. 

He has me look at him for a while, and then presents to me what he calls “the sacrament,” holding out his dripping cock for me to take in my mouth. I moan in deep satisfaction as I take it down my throat, eyes watering as I look up at Carl, who gazes down at me. I suck on his balls, full of holly seed. Then Pastor Carl begins to fuck my throat with slow, deep thrusts, murmuring praise for the sweet tightness of my throat and beautiful body. 

Then, he roughly puts me back in my place. Spits on my hole, lines his cock up with it and shoves it home. I make a garbled scream and Pastor Carl leans his tight body on top of my back, wrapping his strong hands around my neck as he begins to fuck. “Take the sacrament, do it for God,” he says as every inch of his thick, raw dick stretches me out like my husband’s never has. 

I’d assumed that Carl would just get his needs met: fuck me till he cums then pull out, like my husband does on a daily basis. A rut to meet his needs, to seed and breed so he can clear his mind and focus again on providing for our family. But the Pastor is different. He puts me in different positions - on all fours where he can slap my ass and pull my hair as he fucks, on my back so I can gaze at him, unbroken. He speaks through God as he rails me, explaining that He made our bodies to receive pleasure or, in my case, to give it. 

Carl summons my husband into the room an hour later and the two of them fuck me well into the night. They trade off, using both of my holes, and seem to go into an ecstatic state, our minds elevating to some other plane as they fuck me into oblivion.

“Are you ready to receive God?” Pastor Carl asks as he fucks me on my back. My husband straddles my face, stuffing it full of his cock then pulling out to allow me to focus on the Pastor. 

“Yes. Praise God!” I say and Pastor Carl holds my ankles as he rams his rod into me and unloads. He pumps his seed deep in me and I feel the glow of it spread through me. Greg goes next, and Pastor Carl holds my head in his lap as Greg rails me more passionately than he ever has. Pastor Carl whispers in my ear, telling me how grateful I should be, that he's chosen me to be a vessel for him, for my husband, for God. My husband cums, then collapses on top of me. Pastor Carl takes Greg’s chin in his hand and brings their lips together. I watch them kiss passionately. Greg has never kissed me like that. But the glow I have from our communion is too powerful to ignore, and I weep a little - with gratitude, I’m sure - for the blessings that have been bestowed upon me.