Jeremy is a deacon at his church, and he's exactly the guy you're imagining he is. The khakis, the handshake with his other hand on your shoulder, the constant references to "fellowship." His wife Bethany keeps the perfect home and brings the best dish to the potluck after second service every week.
The cross necklace she always wears tell you she's a good church wife. Our texts would tell you otherwise.
She likes to joke that Jeremy is so religious the only position he considers holy is missionary. I can tell you from experience, Bethany like it in every position.
My phone started blowing up during the 8:00 AM service. He sits up front; she sits in the third row, texting me about every spot in the church she's thought of trying something unholy with me. She sent me a pic of the slim gold chain clutching her neck. The caption said, "Put your hand here."
But as the service wound down, she sent a different kind of text. "Meet me at my house. Now."
Bethany told Jeremy she needed to finish the dish for the potluck, and she needed to step away from the second service. She'd be back soon. It was the kind of thing that made his mask slip; he insulted her under his breath for not having it ready beforehand. "Bitch can't do anything right, I swear." He only used language so unbecoming with with his darling wife, so she would "know her place."
Not ten minutes later, I watched her pulling up to their driveway from across the street. Her church dress performed modesty, but it was too short to be truly modest. She gave me a look and walked inside, leaving the front door open behind her. I shut it when I walked in, and she was already on me, her body pressing into mine, her tongue tracing along my neck.
We didn't waste time in the kitchen. She led me straight upstairs, past the family photos and the framed scripture in the hallway, and right into their marital bed. There is something absolutely primal about seeing a woman like that completely unravel her mystique, becoming a begging, needing, dripping mess.
She pushed me on the bed and worshipped my cock with her mouth, until I lifted her by the throat and bent her over. She moaned as I pushed inside her, "Oh Godddddd."
The cross necklace swung, bouncing against her chin and her chest. I felt her thighs clench before she groaned and released, "Jesus CHRIST."
She came all over my cock.
I flipped her over on the edge of the bed and fucked two more out of her before she started to beg, "Give it to me. GIVE IT TO ME." So I filled her pussy to the brim and watched it drip out onto their carpet.
She gave me a devilish look, then pulled her panties back in place.
She fixed her hair; she fixed her dress. She kissed me on the cheek and went back to the potluck.
She made it in plenty of time, still leaking a little down her thigh.