The Devil Comes Out at Night Pt. 03

"Fffuckk!" Bob said, quietly, his eyes riveted to my shiny, sweaty tits and his wife's hands. His hips started thrusting upward, meeting my rhythm, doubling the intensity. "Fffuckk!" he said again.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words formed. He watched Jeana's fingers explore, flicking over my big nipples, returning to hold the meaty things between thumbs and forefingers, pinching them, the way I'd pinched hers.

"Ohhh Goddd!" I moaned, loud and deep. I was lost, my legs propelling me without my brain, in a zone I'd never been in before. It felt more spiritual than anything I've ever experienced. Donald tells me I said, "Ohhh Goddd!", in a spooky low voice, over and over and over again. I literally collapsed from the orgasm.

I heard voices, asking about heat stroke. It wasn't that, I wanted to tell them. It was Bob's cock. It was Jeana's hands. It was Donald's eyes. It was the energy of another world in my legs. It was God's love and it was the Devil's burning fire. I could barely walk for a half an hour or so.

We ate delicious sandwiches when I was able, and we swam. I didn't expect warm water and a sandy bottom, but there it was. It was shallow enough for our tall men to stand up. Jeana and I sat on the swim platform on the transom of the boat, our legs dangling in the water and our pussies just above, and our new lovers ravished us with their mouths. Jeana cums easily on a man's mouth, and Donald was loving every moment of it. She squeezed my hand each time she came.

Back onboard, cooler and dryer and comfortable in our naked skin, my Donald spoke up with a request. Up until then he'd been content to follow along on the wonderful ride, so we were all curious to hear what he wanted.

"I'd like to see you two together," he said.

"You wanna watch Bob...fuck me?" Jeana said. I could tell she thought it was an odd and interesting request.

"If it's too weird, that's fine," Donald said. "It was just a thought."

"It's a dirty thought," Jeana said, smiling coyly. "Why does it seem so much dirtier than everything we've done?"

"My husband, the perverted voyeur," I said. "Who knew?"

Jeana smiled at Bob. "Want to? We can show our church friends what we do on Sunday mornings, before we put on our Sunday clothes."

"Fill up your drinks," Bob said to us. "We're going inside."

They led the way to the bigger of the two bedrooms, and they climbed onto the bigger of the two beds, the one I'd been on with Bob and the boys.

Donald and I climbed onto the other bed, across the narrow isle. We propped up some pillows so we could sit comfortably with our drinks.

"Wait!" I ran out to the back deck and located Bob's speedo and Jeana's bikini. "Put these on," I said.

Jeana laughed. "Oh my gosh!" she said. "I think our church secretary is just as perverted as her husband."

Bob smiled and winked at me. He was a born showoff, just like Jeana, and he knew what was happening was hot. He wiggled into his speedo and tucked in his cock. I think Donald enjoyed watching Jeana put on her bikini as much as he enjoyed watching it come off.

"Leopard is my new favorite color," he said.

It was a naughty, naughty hour of dirty, dirty sex. It felt like a tiny theater, with stunning sightlines and perfect acoustics. Bob and Jeana are noisy lovers. They dirty talk with the best of them. Their bodies slap together so loud and rhythmically it makes your head spin. And Jeana's pussy is a thing of wet wonder — squishing and swishing and splitching, pushing out pussy farts when she's plunged deep, and throwing out droplets of wetness when Bob handjobs her to screaming completion. She's enormously sexy to watch when she's doggy style — thighs spread wide, back arched low. Just crazy sexy. I'm going to work on my flexibility; I want to look like she does when a man's fucking me. I was surprised at how much I learned from watching them, how many things I filed away for future reference. And I was stunned once again by Bob Smythe. He's become almost mythical in my mind, over the months and years. The perfect man in so many ways. I know, that's ridiculous. He's just a guy, from a church, who looks a little like Burt Reynolds in his prime. But he's my Burt Reynolds now. I can call him up and flirt and my husband doesn't mind and his wife doesn't mind. I can invite them over and I can work on my back-arch while he's fucking me. I can squeeze his ass when he leaves, and dream of the next time. I can do all that because Jeana does the same with Donald. We're the perfect foursome in a lot of ways, and the Devil made us do it.

—

"I can't believe she wore that dress again," my friend Carol Lindsey said, standing at the donut table in Fellowship Hall, right after Sunday Service.

"I asked her to," I said. "It looks cute on her."

"What do you mean you asked her to? Since when are you two friends?"

"Since quite a while now. Bob's a hoot. He wears a speedo when they're on their boat."

"A speedo? Grown men wear those? How big is it?"

"Pretty damn big," I said. I smiled mischievously. "Oh, you mean the speedo? Pretty damn small."

I tried to hold back my laugh, but it broke free, low-pitched and goofy sounding, like Elaine on Seinfeld. The look on Carol's face was priceless. I could tell there was a whole stew of stuff going on in her head. Me saying "damn" twice on church property was probably some of it. I've started thinking about small slip-ups like that as the Devil's gentle caress. Call me crazy or off my rocker, but I sort of like it. I like it even better when he pinches my nipples and makes me pinch Jeana's.

On work days, in the church office, I still wear my conservative clothes. My tits are higher, though, thanks to my sexy bras, and I definitely notice all the men looking now. My brain is tuned to it. A certain frequency. Men are easy to read when you get the hang of it. I even think they can tell when I wear my crotchless panties to the office. And when Reverend James is going to be away I always wear my looser bra. It's just a sexy game, but isn't that what life is, in a way, a game? You win some, you lose some. God, and the Devil. But which is which? Reverend James talks about it all the time in his sermons. But if the bad is the fun, and the good is the boredom, what's a girl to do? God, and the Devil. Can't a girl be friends with both of them?