Congregation Copulation- Complete Series Read online

  Congregation Copulation

  Complete Series

  (Older Woman/Younger Man Cheating Wife Erotica)

  Holly Ardent

  Text copyright © 2015, Holly Ardent

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Faith's Needs

  Hope's Wants

  Charity's Desires

  Chastity's Confusion

  * * *

  Faith's Needs

  Congregation Copulation #1

  (Older Woman/Younger Man Cheating Wife Erotica)

  Holly Ardent

  Find Holly's other stories on her Amazon Author Page:

  Holly Ardent's Amazon Author Page

  Father Clayton Barnes knew he was going to be doing penance. There were two bad habits he couldn't get rid of, and over the past week he'd indulged in both.

  Father Clay, as most people called him, suffered from an excess of pride. He was very young to be a priest and younger still to be given the responsibility of his own church. But the previous priest assigned there had needed emergency leave. Clay had heard something about a nervous breakdown, but he couldn't understand why. It wasn't a large church and the town it served was fairly small.

  He'd been introduced to his second bad habit by his roommate at the seminary he'd attended. The reason he was a priest at such a young age was due to his extreme focus on studying. One time, when his efforts had left him close to exhausted, his roommate had produced a small bottle of Irish whiskey. The results of the two of them finishing off the bottle left Clay able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks. Ever since then, Jameson Irish whiskey had been his crutch of choice when he was stressed.

  He and his roommate had celebrated this assignment with a bottle the previous night. After a sound sleep, he'd gotten in his car and driven six hours to the small town where he was being assigned.

  The main street wasn't very crowded on a Thursday afternoon. It was also named, predictably, Main Street. According to his map, the church was another mile down the road. There was a small house across the street from it that would be his home.

  Clay pulled into the parking lot of the church first.

  It looks like the last priest was skimping on maintenance, he thought. The building needs a paint job and some of the wood looks like it might be rotting out as well.

  The small house across the street, on the other hand, looked to be in perfect shape. It was white, with its trim done in powder blue. The color scheme wasn't exactly one he preferred, but it looked as though it had been painted sometime in the past year and everything about the house appeared to be in good shape.

  Clay pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. The key he'd been given unlocked the front door, so he went in and looked around. It was a small house, but more than large enough for a single person. He unloaded his belongings and started by moving them into the living room.

  He unpacked and started to put his things away.

  “What's this?” he wondered aloud.

  There was a small wrapped box in the bottom of the suitcase he'd put his clothing in. The note on it read:

  'Clay:

  Happy Housewarming!

  James'

  James was his ex-roommate, the one who'd introduced him to whiskey. Clay had a good idea what the package contained, and when he unwrapped it he discovered he was correct. The box contained a large bottle of whiskey.

  Oh James, why do you think I'd need this now? Clay thought.

  For the moment he moved the whiskey onto the kitchen table. Then he looked through the refrigerator and cupboards. Apparently the previous priest had left unexpectedly since there was a fair amount of food in the kitchen. It was enough to keep him for several days, so at least he wouldn't need to go shopping any time soon. He'd prefer to have a chance to get his feet under him first, get to know the town and the community.

  The evening passed quickly as he tried to make plans for the next few days. He knew he'd need a sermon for Sunday, he needed to figure out how to restore the church, and he needed to get to know the layout of the town. Those were his first priorities at least.

  As he lay in bed that night, trying to sleep, he couldn't help but think how different things were compared to his time at the seminary.

  It's so quiet. There was always some noise at school, someone doing something. The only thing I hear here is the occasional car on the road outside. I'm spoiled too, the food at school was nothing to write home about, but my own cooking is even worse. Maybe James knew what he was doing with his gift.

  Clay got up and went downstairs. As always, the first shot of whiskey burned a bit, but the second tasted smooth, and the third even better. He capped the bottle and headed back upstairs to bed. This time, he managed to fall asleep.

  * * *

  Friday morning started early, and with it came the alcohol's built-in penance. The hangover hung around for most of the morning. Breakfast didn't touch it, nor did coffee, nor the large quantity of water he drank.

  I've got to remember to drink the water right after the whiskey, not the next morning, he thought.

  By lunchtime his head felt mostly normal and he sat down at the desk in the living room where he'd placed his laptop. He started to write the sermon he'd present on Sunday. He wanted to make sure it was very good as it would help form the congregation's first impression of him. He was mid-way through, and on a roll, when the doorbell rang.

  Clay shook his head in confusion, drawn out of his writing.

  I wonder who that is? I wasn't expecting anyone.

  He got up and opened the door. The blonde woman on the other side looked at him, surprise showing on her face.

  “Excuse me, I didn't know that Father Staunton had company,” she said.

  “He doesn't. Don't you know?”

  “Don't I know what?”

  “Father Staunton took an emergency leave of absence. I'm his replacement,” Clay said.

  “Oh, I had no idea. That does explain why he wasn't answering the phone yesterday morning.”

  “There was no-one here at the time. I didn't arrive until yesterday afternoon.”

  “Well, Father...”

  “Barnes, my name is Clayton Barnes. Most people call me Father Clay though.”

  “Well Father Clay, I'm Faith. I've been volunteering with Father Staunton for a while. I helped him out with housework, grocery shopping, cooking, and the like. If you want I can do the same for you,” she said.

  “The place seems pretty clean, but I'll be the first to admit that I can't cook to save my life. I was just thinking about that last night, deciding I'd have to learn how.”

  Faith stepped inside the house, bumping Clay out of the way to do so.

  “I can take care of that for you. Normally I'd cook several meals for Father Staunton and he'd freeze them to defrost and heat for his dinners over the week. Would something like that work for you as well?”

  “Uh... Yeah, sure. That would be great,” he said.

  “Well then, let me go see what's available in the kitchen. What kind of budget are you planning for your groceries? If I know that, and what kinds of food you prefer, I can tell you roughly how much groceries will cost and start shopping for you.”

  The two of them talked things over for several minutes before Faith stood and headed for the kitchen to see what was still there. Father Clay followed along. She stopped abruptly in the doorway, staring at the table. Clay looked past her and saw the bottle of whiskey standing sentinel on it.

  “Oh, excuse me,” he said. “I have trouble sleeping sometimes. A little bit of that helps me out when I have that problem.”

  Fai
th smirked and raised a single eyebrow at him. Clay grabbed the bottle and tucked it away in a cupboard, his face red and burning.

  “I'm surprised a man as young as you would have problems sleeping,” she said.

  “I do it to myself, I know I do. I stress over lots of different things and sometimes that keeps me awake. In the seminary it was because I was trying to do too much. Last night, it was the difference between what I was used to and what things are like here.”

  “It sounds to me like you need to learn how to relax,” she said.

  “I haven't had much time for that in my life, maybe I'll have to learn how.”

  Faith gave him a smile and Clay felt altogether too warm being the recipient of it.

  “Maybe I'll help you learn,” she said.

  She pulled out a sheet of paper and started opening cupboards, making a list.

  * * *

  When Faith returned from the grocery store, Clay was busy working on his sermon again. He'd told her to just come right in so he could continue working. She made a little noise putting things away in the kitchen, but not enough to distract him from his task.

  “Sorry to disturb you Father Clay, but I wanted to ask. Normally I'd eat with Father Staunton on the day I cooked for him. Would you like my company as well?”

  “I wouldn't want to take you away from your family,” he replied.

  “You wouldn't be. My children are all grown up and my husband...”

  Her face turned slightly bitter before she continued.

  “My husband is a couple of towns over every Friday night. A bunch of men from the town go over there every Friday.”

  “What's he doing?” Clay asked.

  “He's at a dance club.”

  “I would think you'd go with him, don't you like dancing?”

  “Not that kind of dance club.”

  Clay felt confused.

  “What kind then?” he asked.

  “Pardon my language Father, he's at a titty bar.”

  Clay blushed again.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't even think of that possibility,” he said.

  “That's alright Father, I'm resigned to it. As are quite a few of the other women in town. Ever since that place opened up a couple of years back...”

  She shook her head.

  “Let's just say you could feel the morals of the town slipping away,” she said.

  He looked at her earnestly.

  “Do you think a sermon on the family, and perhaps the responsibilities of the father of a family, would do any good?”

  “It wouldn't hurt, although I've always preferred the ones dealing with judgment. You know, like an eye for an eye and that sort of thing,” she said.

  “Well, I'll see what I can do next week,” he promised.

  “That gets us back to my question. Would you like company for dinner tonight?”

  “You're most certainly welcome to stay for dinner if you want. Especially since you're the one preparing it. I wouldn't dream of being so rude as to say you couldn't.”

  “Thank you Father. I'll get started on it right away.”

  * * *

  Clay sat back and sent his sermon to the printer. The hum as it printed was soothing for him.

  I'm sure it can benefit from being proofread, but I can do that first thing tomorrow and pencil in any changes, he thought.

  “Dinner's ready,” Faith said.

  Clay jumped, she'd come into the room and he hadn't even noticed.

  “Wonderful timing,” he said.

  Dinner was chicken breast with Fettuccine Alfredo. Steamed broccoli drenched in butter rounded out the meal. When Father Clay finished, he leaned back in his chair.

  “That was incredible. I was lamenting the fact that my cooking wasn't even as good as the food at the seminary, but that was far better than either of those. Thank you Faith.”

  “I've got dessert for you as well Father,” she said. “If you go out into the living room, I'll bring it to you. It'll be just a minute or two.”

  “I don't know that I have any more room, but if you insist.”

  “I do,” she said.

  Father Clay sat down on the couch and thought about turning on the television. He'd just decided against it when Faith came out carrying two cups, each with a peak of whipped cream jutting up above the rim. She handed one over to him and sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

  He took a sip of his drink.

  Oh that's good. Strong coffee, but sweetened a bit. Heavy cream maybe and...

  He nearly choked as the taste of whiskey struck his tongue.

  “There's whiskey in this!” he said.

  “Well, yes. It's called an Irish coffee and it's one of my favorites,” Faith replied.

  She sipped at her cup.

  Father Clay thought about setting his cup down, but he didn't want to offend Faith. Besides that, it was delicious. He took another sip and felt the whiskey settling into his stomach, relaxing him.

  The drink was gone all too quickly for his taste. He noticed that Faith had also finished hers. She picked up the cups and disappeared into the kitchen. Clay slumped down on the couch and stretched his legs out.

  A minute later he sat back upright when Faith returned with the cups, once again with cream towering over their rims.

  “I shouldn't really. I could easily become far too fond of whiskey,” he said.

  She pouted at him, offering him one of the cups.

  “I told you I was going to help you learn how to relax. You're feeling more relaxed already, aren't you?”

  He nodded.

  “So here, take it,” she said. “We can sip these instead of drinking them quickly.”

  Clay warred with himself. He knew he shouldn't have another, but he was also thinking of just how good the last one had tasted. His hand reached up, almost on its own, and took the cup. When he took his first sip, he was sure the whiskey was stronger in this one, but he wrote that idea off to a guilty conscience.

  They sat and sipped at their coffee for a while, talking. Clay found Faith to be witty, but she kept making him feel slightly uneasy. There was a certain smile she used sometimes that made him feel far too warm for comfort and he didn't understand why.

  Clay caught himself yawning as they talked. The move, the new house, and the whiskey all combined to make him a little tired, and more than a little tipsy.

  “I'm sorry,” he said. “I'm enjoying the conversation, but I seem to be fading out on you.”

  “That's okay. Here I'll move over to the chair. Put your feet up and get comfortable. If you decide you're going to fall asleep, just tell me and I can let myself out.”

  Clay rearranged himself on the couch. Once he was settled in, he realized his head was buzzing.

  I haven't been this drunk since that first night with James, he thought.

  Clay was humming to himself, having entirely forgotten the conversation he was having with Faith. He saw her moving out of the corner of his eye, doing something with her purse. Then she turned and walked over to him.

  “So Father Clay, did you still want me to help you relax?” she asked.

  “Certainly seems to be working so far,” he said.

  At least that's what he tried to say. The words didn't sound quite right, kind of slushy around the edges. She seemed to understand him though.

  “Good. Now I'm going to help you relax even more. Then you can get a good night's sleep and I'll stop by tomorrow to see how you're doing.”

  Clay's eyes were closed, but he nodded anyway, hoping she'd see it.

  There was a soft noise that sounded like cloth rubbing together, then Father Clay felt a hand on his pants. He heard a 'zip' and was still trying to place the noise when a hand slid into his underwear and firmly grasped his cock. Before he could react it was drawn out into the open and a warm moistness surrounded it.

  He opened his eyes and saw Faith's blond head in his lap, her lips facing down and engulfing his cock. He blinked several times, memorie
s that he'd tried to forget coming forward.

  That feels nothing like when James and I experimented in the seminary. That was all rough and whiskery. We couldn't understand what the fuss was about sex after we were done. This is smooth as silk and now I have an idea about why it's so popular.

  His mind was trying to analyze what was going on, while his body was simply reacting. Even drunk, he'd become hard the instant her lips surrounded him.

  I ought to stop her, but I always thought being drunk prevented you from getting an erection, he thought.

  He tried to speak, to tell her to stop, but even he couldn't understand the words he was trying to say. Then his mind refused to process any more thoughts and lost itself to the pleasure of his first blow job from a woman.

  Faith's hand slid back into his underwear and fondled his scrotum as her mouth slid up and down his shaft. Clay knew that what was happening wasn't right, shouldn't be happening. But he was helpless to stop her, he wasn't even sure that he wanted to, despite knowing it was wrong.

  He felt her tongue moving inside her mouth. It stroked the skin of his cock up and down in time with her movements. Her lips were pressed tightly against his skin, but still slid smoothly up and down his shaft. He simply stared for a while, watching the beautiful blonde's head bob up and down, sliding his cock in and out of her mouth.

  “I'm gonna... I'm gonna—”

  The words were barely understandable, but Faith seemed to get his meaning. She slid her mouth up his cock, stopping when only his head was still inside of it.

  Clay felt a rush of heat in his cock as it jerked several times. A warm, tingling feeling spread from his groin to the rest of his body. Faith kept her mouth wrapped around him until he was done cumming. He flinched slightly as she tucked his, now sensitive, cock away and zipped him back up.

  “You should sleep well now Father,” Faith said. “I'll just let myself out. You lie there and relax. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  * * *