A Reverend and a high school cheerleader get into some sexual activity when he comes over to her house on church business.
Cynthia barged through the front door, her cell phone clasped to her right ear and a sour look on her face. "Well, tell him, I don't care what he thinks. He's an assho-" She stopped abruptly and gasped in shock. Sitting on the sofa in the living room was Reverend Rockwell. They both exchanged different expressions. Hers was of horror and shock at what he had almost heard her say, while his was a look of pleasant surprise and friendliness.
He smiled at her and said, "Hello, Cynthia. It's been a long time, and my, my, my, you've grown up quite a bit." Rev. Rockwell looked her up and down from head to toe in appreciation of her teenage body, hands clasped in front of him as if he were in a perpetual state of prayer. "You've turned out to be a beautiful young lady. Thank God."
Cynthia blushed, "Yes. He's taken care of me. My parents have been great support too."
"As they should," the Reverend nodded, still smiling. "Um, sorry to distract you in the middle of your conversation." He nodded towards the phone held in her limp hand. Cynthia gasped, realizing that she had left her friend Hannah hanging on the phone. She quickly brought the phone to her ears and said, "Hello? Hello...?" Hannah had hung up on her. "Whoops."
Just then, Cynthia's Mom, Annabelle, walked into the living room with a tray of glasses and a jug of orange juice. "Ah. Cynthia, you've seen Rev. Rockwell?"
Cynthia grinned and rolled her eyes, "Yes, Mom, I'm standing right here and was just talking to him a second ago, if you haven't noticed."
Annabelle set down the tray and prepared the drinks, "Really? I thought you were talking to your phone." She looked at Rev. Rockwell and smiled, "Kids these days."
Rockwell reclined back in the sofa and said, "Oh, I wouldn't underestimate or make fun of the current generation of youth. They have different ways of seeing things, and not all their views on life are anti-Christian."
Cynthia's eyes lit up with happiness at the encouragement from Rockwell.
"I'm gonna go upstairs and change, then I'll be back and we can catch up, okay?"
Annabelle said, "That's fine, dear. Rev Rockwell is here on church business. Something about the annual meeting of leaders from the churches in our district?" She looked to Rockwell for confirmation and he nodded his head, "Yes. It won't take long. And I wouldn't mind catching up with Cynthia, after we're done discussing the silly stuff."
Cynthia bit her lower lip and smiled, restraining herself from jumping into Rockwell's arms and giving him a big hug and a kiss, maybe two or three or more...
She received a subtle signal from her mother to go upstairs and she went.
Cynthia adored pastors and preachers. Ever since she was a child, she admired the way they were nice and friendly to other people and always had good words to say, even when they were rebuking someone. Maybe it was part of the training they received at preaching school or wherever it was that they went to learn to become registered servants of God.
She also wondered how grown ups would cry at the end of the sermon and go kneeling prayerfully at the altar. The preacher's words must have a special quality to them that make adults become all sorry for whatever bad things they had been doing throughout the week. Recently, she had gone to the altar twice in five weeks, asking God to forgive her sins and rid her off bad habits such as gossiping and lying to other people.
Cynthia shut her room door and put her school bag away, arranging things that looked out of place in her room. She left the room to take a cold cleansing shower, scrubbing and shampooing herself. After that, she changed into some soft, comfortable clothing. Then she thought of Rev Rockwell talking with her mother downstairs and walked over to her closet. On opening it, she saw her cheerleader outfit she wore for practice and at high school football games.
Info on Cynthia: Sixteen years old, light brown hair, metallic gray eyes, average height, breasts half the size of dodge balls, slender, physically fit and in good shape, ass in wonderful proportion to her breasts. Loves preachers, pastors, reverends, evangelists (televangelists included), deacons, priests, bishops, cardinals, popes, monks (hermits excluded because they stick to themselves and are not famous for their sociable/congenial behavior), and anyone who is educated and determined enough to write advanced theology books she barely understands but buys by the dozen from any bookshop she stumbles across.
Info on Rev Rockwell: Forty-three years of age, black hair with wisps of gray on the sides and back of his head, brown eyes, tall, broad-shouldered, evidently powerful in the way he walks, but not intimidating because of his friendly face and smile. A familiar face to all the church members in his district, and very much liked by everyone who knows him. Married to a pretty wife, who has been rumored to be living a secret life of debauchery and BDSM, and has three children, the two eldest studying in university.
Commonalities shared by Cynthia and Rockwell: Members of the Fellowship of Light, attended Gronville Fellowship of Light (2002 to 2004), read theology books, and love eating jelly.
Rockwell heard soft footsteps coming down the stairs, but didn't look up. He was almost done composing a text message to be sent to his superior. Annabelle had just agreed to be one of the delegates sent from her church to witness the annual meeting of church leaders in the district. She was a regular choice for delegate, but Rockwell didn't want her to think her participation in church events was being taken for granted. That's what made him one of the most loved pastors in the district: his ability to be warm and personal.
He first smelled perfume, then felt some strands of hair brush against his face. She was looking over his shoulder and smiling confidently. He looked up and smiled, "Hey there, Cynth."
"Hi. Where's mom?"
"She went to get some groceries and other home supplies from the supermarket. I told her I would wait for you to come down and talk to you a bit before I leave." He gave her a winning smile. She felt almost dizzy from its brightness.
"Groceries and home supplies? Yeah, we're really low on stock." She put her hands on the back of the sofa and using it as a fulcrum, swung herself over the sofa and landed on the sitting cushion. The movement was swift, yet smooth and graceful.
Rockwell pressed the Send Text button without looking at the message, his eyes fixed on Cynthia.
"That was impressive, young lady. Nice cheerleader outfit too. Are you having practice this afternoon?"
"No. I just decided to wear it. Well, actually, I wanted you to see how it looked on me. What to do you think?"
The cheerleader outfit was a blue-on-white, tight-fitting, sleeve-less top that accentuated her breasts and flat stomach nicely, and a blue short skirt that stopped at her upper, mid-thighs. Blue and white was her school's colors and the school mascot was a dolphin everyone called Flupe.
Rockwell studied her young body more than he studied the outfit and nodded in approval. "It looks great. You're terrific."
Cynthia was ecstatic, "Really?"
He ogled her once more and said, "Not kidding. May I feel that material?"
"Sure, go ahead, be my guest."
His hand went to her shoulder to feel the material there, then traced the cloth downwards along her side. She shivered and he stopped abruptly. "No, you can keep going. I'm just a bit cold, that's all." He continued all the way down to her waist, where the skirt began.
He said, "The top is made from material that is comfortable, stretchable, and resilient to falls and scrapes. Remarkable stuff."
She offered, "You should feel the skirt too. I don't think it's made from the same stuff the top's made of."
Rockwell's mind was going a million miles per second. Damn. She's asking me to feel her skirt, possibly also wants me to feel her lower body.
Cynthia prepared herself for his touch she had been longing for and it came. He rubbed the fabric of her skirt between his thumb and index finger, but his other three fingers gently rested on the inside of her thigh, as if he wasn't really conscious that they were touching her, close to the junction between her legs.
Her breathing became a bit more drawn out, but she disguised it well by feigning great interest in what he would find out from touching her outfit skirt.
As he felt her skirt fabric, Rockwell's brow furrowed and he seemed to be thinking hard about the object of his concentration. "I'm not so sure... I don't know if... if you could just like..." She nodded her head as if she understood what he was trying to say.
Moving closer to him on the sofa until they were side-by-side pressed against each other, she lifted up her skirt and said, "Here. Use both of your hands to feel the material. I don't think you can easily tell by just using two fingers." Rockwell hesitated for only a second, and said, "Yes, I think you're right. Okay, now let's see..." He took the part of her skirt she was offering and began feeling it, he could also see that she was wearing blue underwear beneath the skirt. He used both hands to touch and sense the fabric at first, then used only one hand while the other hand he placed beneath her left ass cheek. As he did this, both their eyes met.
"I'm sorry if I placed my hand in the wrong area, Cynth."
She shook her head and said, "No, it's okay. You need to place your hands properly for support while you examine the material." He simply nodded his head in agreement, allowing his hand to remain clutching her left buttock, while he studied her skirt fabric. Her breathing was getting a bit erratic now.
After a minute of feeling the fabric (it felt like an hour to Cynthia), he announced his findings. "I would take a guess and say that your skirt is made partially from the same material your top is made from, and some other material, probably a cotton fiber of sorts."
She grinned, "Wow! I think you're absolutely right. Now I'm beginning to wonder what my underwear is made of." She looked directly at Rockwell, "I'd say it was made from the same stuff my top is made of, but could you confirm it, please?"
He looked into her metallic gray eyes and said, "Of course." He had a major erection now and was wondering if she noticed it.
"Maybe my skirt's in the way," said Cynthia as she took the reverend's hands and guided them beneath her skirt to her pelvis and waist. "Just go ahead and feel all of it so you're sure. I'd hate to get the fabric wrong."
"Uh, all right," said Rev Rockwell. He began rubbing her underwear beneath her skirt and said, "This material is softer and more comfortable that your top's material. I have no idea what it is." He could feel her pussy and ass beneath the underwear and his hands began to shake. "Should we remove the underwear altogether and examine it?"
"That's a great idea," said Cynthia. She adjusted herself so the reverend could slip the panties down her legs and off her feet. He held it up before the two of them and looked at it closely. "Okay, now I can say that it is definitely polyester and cotton."
"Wow! You're good at this."
"Thanks. We should probably put your panties back on."
"No. I have to lubricate myself before I put those back on. They get itchy after a while."
"Really? They look comfortable to me."
"I also ran out of lubricant."
"Well, what are we going to do about this?"
Cynthia looked Rev Rockwell in the eye and said, "You're going to have to lubricate me, Reverend."
Rockwell was shocked. "What?"
Cynthia looked downcast. "It's okay. I guess I'll just have to be itchy for the rest of the evening. Gosh, I hate scratching myself down there and all over. You know, the itchiness spreads itself out to the rest of my body."
Rockwell was concerned, "That's terrible, Cynthia. Tell me how I could possibly help you."
She smiled and said, "The only other kind of substance that could lubricate me other than the one I just ran out of is ... cum."
Rev Rockwell's eyes were wide open. "Cum?"
"Yes. Cum. I'm sorry if you can't provide for me..."
"Cynthia, I am a reverend. It is my duty to look out for my church members and you're one of the best I know. I wouldn't turn a blind eye to any needful condition you were in. But how could we... you know."
Rockwell's socks were the last piece of clothing to go. He tossed them into the corner of the living room and turned to see Cynthia reclining on the sofa. "Ready to lubricate me, Reverend Rockwell?"
"I sure am." His cock was big and hard. Her pussy was glistening with moisture and was looking so delicious.
As he stepped closer towards her, his cock rose until it seemed to be pointing at her, choosing her as its target. Cynthia smiled and said, "Whoops. I'm in big trouble now. You've got a big accusing finger pointing right at me." She laughed and the reverend blushed.
He asked, "Are you sure you want this big ugly thing inside of you, sweetheart?"
She answered quickly, "Oh, I'm very sure. I've never been so sure of anything in my life." She motioned with her head saying, "Bring that lovely cock of yours over here, Reverend." And he did.
Rockwell and Cynthia lay on their sides on the sofa. They were locked in an embrace, his body pressed tightly against hers, her legs clasping his buttocks as he fucked her sideways on the sofa.
"Aaah, yes, Reverend! Fuck me!" She thrust her hips against him to meet his penetrating cock and drive it deeper into her with each thrust.
The Reverend kissed her and whispered words of love to her. She enjoyed it and smiled with pleasure.
Their fucking got more intense as the Reverend increased the pace and thrust of his hips slamming into the teenager's young pussy. "Oh my God! Oh, I'm so sorry for that blasphemy, Reverend Rockwell!"
"It's not blasphemy if you mean it," said Rockwell, grunting as he placed a large hand behind her on her ass and squeezed and pushed her hips to him, pummeling her pussy with each collision. Her response was a short high-pitched squeal and the frantic thrusting of her pelvis against his. "Nnnggaahh! Reverend, I'm going to say something you might not agree with." He looked into her eyes, still fucking, and asked, "What? Just say it."
Cynthia gave three strong thrusts before she cried, "OH MY FUCKING GOD! YOUR COCK IS SO BIG IN MY CUNT!!"
The Reverend looked shocked, "Cynthia babe! Watch your tongue, kiddo! I don't mind the occasional 'Oh my God', but what you just said is very crude!"
"Forgive me, Rev Rockwell. I'm really sorry." She kissed him long on the lips, squirming her body and hips against him as he continued thrusting between her legs.
"Was your reason for blasphemy a sincere appreciation of what I am doing to you now?" He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.
"Yes." She held onto him, feeling her climax approaching as he slowed his thrusts to gentle, full-cock-length plunges, balls ticklishly lapping against her teenaged bald pussy.
"Then let's not make your blasphemy be in vain. How about we change to a different position and I enter your tenderness in a more primal aggressive manner? You may blaspheme all you want as we go along."
Cynthia eyed him with awe. "Bless you, Reverend. I love you and what you're doing to me. Bless you a million times!"
They were still on the sofa. This time, Cynthia was on her knees, bent over; her fresh, tight, teen ass jutting out invitingly towards Rev Rockwell who was behind her. She held on to the armrest of the sofa, supporting herself for what was soon coming to her.
He had one foot on the sofa and the other on the floor, placing his hands on her hips and gripping her hard as signal that she get ready for something harder than what they did previously.
Rockwell said, "I hope you don't find this position demeaning, as if I'm fucking you like an animal. I mean, I am, but I don't think of you as an animal."
Cynthia giggled and looked over her shoulder at the Reverend, "Oh, you don't have to make a big deal of it, Reverend. I completely understand." Her expression changed to one of pure lust when she said, "Besides, I want you to fuck me like an animal; a female animal that desperately needs holy cock! Do you have a holy cock, Reverend!"
He pushed his cock firmly against her rear and said, "Yes, I do."
With a commanding voice she said, "Then give it to me! Plunge that holy cock of yours into my pussy and bless me with righteous ecstasy, fill me with your anointed cum! Grant me salvation from the evil inside of me!"
The Reverend slipped his cock into the young cheerleader's fit pussy and began sliding in and out of her. She moaned, "Yeah, that's it. Mmmmm!"
He went faster and they both could hear their flesh slapping against each other, especially his pelvis against her ass and his balls against the region above her pussy as they swung upwards with every cock plunge.
He paused his thrusting abruptly to kneel down and put his mouth to her ass, licking it hole and all, and sucking the mounds of her ass.
She cried, "Oooh, Rev. You stopped just when I was going to cum."
He then realized that she had climaxed as he sucked her ass. "I'm sorry. Did you want me to be inside you when that happened?"
"Yes. But that's okay." She tried to hide any further expressions of disappointment.
"No, it's not. I did not truly fulfill your desires." He pulled her to himself and kissed her on her lips, forehead, cheeks, chin, neck and shoulders. She sighed with happiness.
Still naked, Rev Rockwell went over to where his clothes lay. He found his cell phone in his jacket and dialed a number. "Hello, Annabelle? I was wondering if you wouldn't mind giving me and Cynthia some private time. You see, she just told me that she was seriously considering getting into the ministry." He turned to look at her. She had a quizzical smile on her face. She mouthed, "What?"
He put a hand to his lips, listening to Annabelle, then he spoke. "Well, I think she wants to specialize in Children's Sunday School. She feels called to that arm of the church." Pause. "Yeah we'll need to pray and talk about it, so rather than having her go over to my office, since it's going past my working hours, I thought I should stay over here and you could hang out with your usual group of friends for say five hours, then head back here." Pause. "So we will expect you back by ten pm.?" Short pause. "Good. I won't leave the house until you get back. Okay. Bye." He tossed the phone on top of his pile of clothes. He turned to face her on the sofa and held out his arms, smiling and presenting himself to her."You ready to spend five hours alone in your own home with me?"
Cynthia bounded off the sofa and ran to him, jumping and wrapping herself - arms and legs - around him. He held her and kissed her soft light brown hair, letting his hands touch and squeeze her body.
She whispered into his ear, "Let's fuck and cum like crazy!"
He grinned and she opened their evening session right then by licking his ears, face and neck.
Contrary to what they both thought initially, their five hour private time wasn't spent in pure sex. They opened up to each other on a personal level, talking about certain aspects of their lives and what they thought about random things such as daydreams, possible psychic abilities in human beings, their families, natural disasters, crime, and the economic state of the town they lived in.
In the course of the evening, Cynthia led Rockwell up the stairs. (They were both still naked). She took him to the doorway of her room and refused to let him in until he paid the toll: three jets of hot cum inside her pussy! He immediately put her on the floor, in front of her room door and laid with her.
She arched her back to greet his downward thrusts into her pussy. Her legs were splayed out, opening herself up completely to him.
"Mmmm...Nnnngggfffuck!" She grabbed and clawed his buttox and he winced in pain. She said, "I love the feel of your balls against my pussy. Makes me feel like a real woman." He replied, "You are a real woman, Cynthia." She kissed him and let her tongue frolic with his as they locked mouths. Rev Rockwell began pumping his cock soundly into her and in a matter of minutes he shot his load (more than three jets of cum) into her pussy. She came as well, shortly afterward.
They made a rule to quickly clean themselves after every climax. Cynthia set aside an old towel for that purpose.
She took Rev Rockwell into her room after he had paid the toll. She showed him everything, making sure not to bore him, and he asked about how many boys she dated and she answered that she had only had lunch alone with a boy in the school cafeteria on two occasions, and other than that, she didn't really get into the dating scene.
"I read theology books." At this, the Reverend's eyes lit up. "Really? Do you understand what you read."
"Yeah, most of it, I think."
He had her take out one of the theology books she had read and opened up a page. "Tell me what the concept discussed in this page is all about," he said after reading a few selected paragraphs.
She answered and he was amazed. "That's exactly right, Cynthia. Wow! You really could get into ministry if you wanted to."
Cynthia blushed and unconsciously rubbed her right nipple. That seemed to have an effect on the Reverend because he picked her up in his arms so her breasts her level with his face and began sucking on her tits.
"Mmmmmmm, Rev Rockwell. Your mouth is amazing. Please suck my boobs good. Mmmmm."
He sucked her breasts for a good six minutes while she caressed his head and kissed his hair. Looking to her bed, she said, "Take me to my bed. I want to sleep on my bed knowing that you once fucked me in it."
He took her to her bed and entered her before she was able to lay down properly. They rolled over constantly in the bed, going one way then the other, never breaking the connection they had at the hips. The Reverend thrust and the teenaged girl thrust back. His powerful frame was complemented perfectly by her petite body and physical fitness that came along with being a high school cheerleader. They grasped and clawed, she bit and blasphemed, and he said things so fierce and wrong that no one would believe could come out of a Reverend's mouth.
"Do what you just said. Do it to me, Reverend."
He looked at her and said he was only expressing his passion. But she wouldn't let him off. "Give it to me! I order you! You must!"
He did what she asked. She squirmed and screamed uncontrollably, blaspheming like a demon as the Reverend put his darkest sexually immoral thoughts into action. They reached a point where the sexuality got so aggressively dark and wrong that she fled the room terrified. The Reverend laughed, laying on the bed in her bedroom.
What horrible things can reside in the human mind, even the mind of a reverend, Cynthia thought. She shivered as she lay in the bathtub. What had she gotten herself into, she wondered. The bathroom door was locked. She could hear the reverend laughing in her bedroom. How weird was this? Two naked people in the same house. One moment, they're having fun, having sex! And the next moment, one of them is laughing in the bedroom, while the other is huddled in the bathtub, terrified, with the bathroom door locked. She asked herself, am I afraid of him or what he did and is going to do to me?
He knocked on the bathroom door and she heard his voice. It was the same lovable voice that people all over the district had come to recognize and love whether he was speaking directly in the open air, on air through a radio broadcast, or on a DVD video. But this time, there was a dark purpose to his voice. "Cynthia sweetheart, we should be spending this time we have together in each others company, not apart from each other with a locked door between us."
Rockwell tried the door, knowing it was most likely locked - he even heard it click after she shut it.
On the other side of the door, in the bathtub, Cynthia began to cry. Tears rolled down her face. This was all so wrong. This was not the way things were supposed to turn out.
Rockwell heard her sobbing. "Cynth, let me in. I'll make it all right, I promise. Please, let me in, Cynthia."
She bit into her fingers and knuckles, not knowing what to do.
He murmured something that sounded like, "You want to... if I'm... break this..."
CRACK. The bathroom door flew inward, the bolt ripping through wood, several splinters landing on Cynthia's arm. She screamed. Rockwell stood in the doorway, tall, impressively powerful, and terrifying in his nakedness. He walked into the bathroom and Cynthia shook badly, hoping she would faint into the security of unconsciousness, but unfortunately she didn't. He had a neutral expression on his face as he picked her up out of the tub and carried her in his arms out of the room and downstairs into the living room.
He set her down on the couch, and went to the front door.
"Terribly stupid of me to leave this door unlocked when we were having a nice private time to ourselves." He locked it. He looked at the clock on the wall and smiled, "We've got three more hours. There's no reason why we shouldn't enjoy ourselves. Is there?" He fixed a stern gaze on the teenager. She didn't know what to say or do in response, holding his gaze for only a second before turning it downward to the floor.
He asked her, "You want to have another round of fucking? This time on the living room floor?"
She looked up at him now, terror in her eyes. In a flash, she sprang over the couch and took to the stairs. As good as her flashy speed and reflexes were, Rockwell was a blur of movement, crossing over from the center of the living room to the stairway in just a second, giving her a slight push on her shoulder. The push would've seemed like a nudge had she been standing still and had he been a smaller, less powerful person. But her momentum and his power combined to send her off course, her body slamming against the wall, bringing down pictures, trophies, and awards she had won in school, including last year's Cheerleader of the Year statuette.
With a great show of strength, the Reverend picked up Cynthia's flailing body and pressed her against the wall. Her attempts to fight him off were futile as he maneuvered himself between her legs once more. She realized she had lost this little struggle as she felt his cock enter her pussy again, not as a much desired welcomed guest, but an intruder probing into her most intimate of places. She began to sob, but he cut her off by clutching her throat. "Don't cry, sweet Cynthia. I'll let go of your beautiful throat if you promise not to cry."
She was silent and he eased the pressure on her throat to where she could breathe again. She gasped for breath as two big tears strolled down her cheeks. She coughed and she felt him begin to increase his pressure on her throat so she quickly said, "I can't help it. I can't."
"You can't help crying? Well, don't make a noise then. Go ahead and shed tears, but no wailing. All right?"
Rockwell thrust his cock into her cunt, her back pressed against the wall, his strong arms holding her up, her legs spread apart. Tears rolled down her face like two rivers. Incredibly, she felt herself being brought to a climax. This was such a confusing point. Part of her wanted to moan and say yes, but part of her told her to keep quiet and reveal no pleasure because what he was doing to her was non-consensual as far as she was concerned. She came and despite her utmost to keep from giving away any sign, the Reverend heard it in the stifled sigh that came from her lips. He smiled in satisfaction.
The Reverend unleashed his load into her once more, and let her slide down to the floor after he had emptied himself into her.
She rose to her feet and put a hand on her shoulder. Turning to face him she simply said, "My throat is dry. I'm going to get a drink in the kitchen." He knew there was a door to the outside through the kitchen.
"If you try to run out on me, I'll catch you before even the the lawn knows you stepped on it." She had a defeated look on her face as she nodded.
Rev Rockwell walked over to where his clothes still lay, and picked up his phone. He dialed a number and was greeted by a woman's voice - his wife, Angela.
"Hi, honey. What's up?"
"Just called to let you know that I'll be coming home late, if you haven't noticed already."
She grunted disapproval. "You'll find food in the refrigerator when you get back. Another radioactive meal from the microwave."
"Whatever. Have fun with whoever that slut is you're fucking at the moment. Tell her I give you both my best for all your activities tonight. Maybe when we all get to hell, we can find a place meet up and have a great big orgy, you, me, and all your fucksluts."
"Love you, babe," and he hung up.
As he walked into the kitchen he saw the cheerleader with a knife held to her neck. Her eyes were close and she was sobbing, "Please, I don't want to do it, but I have to. I'm a fucking slut who just gave herself away to freak who cummed inside of her and oh fuck, this can't be happening to me, make it all go away, I'll just let this slide across my neck and it'll all be over, I'll be happy, oh fuck, God help me!"
"I never knew you were this weak," he said, causing her to jump, almost driving the knife upward into her chin. She shrieked, "Stay away from me, monster freak fucking devil you!!"
He calmly stared up into the ceiling, "Let's analyze what you just called me: devil. You called me a devil, who happens to fuck monsters and freaks, or is that one word, monster-freak? A special kind of freak?" He laughed. "The only freaks I've fucked are my wife, and a few moments ago, you." He pointed to her and grinned. He looked handsome, but to her he looked deranged.
Faster than anything she had ever seen, he was in her face, the knife clattered in the sink. This is it, I'm dead, she thought to herself. But he put a gentle hand to her face and brought his in close to hers and kissed her softly. When he pulled away, she saw tears in his eyes. He brought her down to the cold tiles of the kitchen floor and had her sit on his lap (both of them still naked). He saw her shaking and eased the tension by kissing her face and body, but she wouldn't relax so he talked to her.
"I'm nothing." She didn't look at him, but at the tiles. "I have many people who would call me their friend, many others wish I was their personal friend, and I am envied by a lot of my colleagues. I've got a beautiful wife and three kids who have succeeded in everything they've put their minds to. I'm financially well-off. But having 'everything' isn't everything. Sometimes you need faith."
He paused before continuing. "I lost my faith a few years ago when I found out my wife was cheating on me. Even worse, she was a prolific adulteress and got into all sorts of sexual innuendos that a Reverend's wife shouldn't get into. At that time, I lost faith in myself and faith in God. I regained a bit of faith in myself over time, especially with the encouragement and praise from friends and church people as I did my pastoral deeds and good deeds in general. But my faith was dead. Nobody knew. Just me and," he looked up, "God, if He exists. Well, my wife sort of knows about my spiritual condition as well. Hell, she's my wife so she should.
I never really thought about you in a sexual way. Not until, I saw your picture in a Faith Drive, that Christian car magazine." He chuckled. "You know, if that mag is a Christian magazine, why do they have a lot of sexy women, especially teenaged women displayed in the pages? Like that one picture with that Mitsubishi and the sizzling hot half-Asian-Caucasian girl in a yellow bikini sunbathing on the hood of the car. What's up with that?"
Cynthia had no answer, but she was making eye contact with him now.
He continued, "Anyway. I saw your picture in the magazine and read the article about you joining a sort of club where Christian cheerleaders get together, hang out and encourage each other to keep the faith and all that nice crap. So I got aroused just looking at your beautiful face and the faces of all those other beautiful girls, but yours was definitely the one I was most excited about. You were glowing, no, you were blazing. I saw... redemption in you.
"Told myself that if I fucked you, I would be better and even more so if you had some sort of permanent relationship with me. But that was all psycho shit going on in my head. Unreal, sick fantasy, whatever you want to call it. I know it's not real." He looked at her. "I'm still a psycho though." He got up and reach into the sink. Sitting down on the kitchen floor beside Cynthia, he placed the knife in her hands and said, "Kill me if it will make you feel better. There is no one on this planet I would want more to kill me. I met you, after so many years. I got to look at your awesome sexy young teenaged body. I got to fuck you! You were great." He smiled sadly, "Then I terrified you with my psycho shit. I'm so sorry, if you believe me." A moment ago she would've said no, but now she wasn't so sure.
He held her hands which held the knife upward and pulled them to him so that the knife was only inches from his chest. "You can either slit my throat or stab me in the heart. Take your pick." She looked into his eyes and looked beyond those eyes. He was serious.
Cynthia had her own fantasy land. She now went there and saw herself pregnant with Rev. Rockwell's baby. They were traveling cross-country (not this country, but some other country where such things were possible). He would stop at stations and get fuel for the car and groceries for them to live off on. When he was driving, she read theology textbooks and he would discuss the concepts with her. Henry (that's the name they gave the baby) was born and they bought a small house they could live in, in a nice peaceful town. They had amazing sex almost every night....
She smiled and so did Rockwell, the knife pointed at his chest now. He leaned in and kissed her passionately.
He said, "It's not that bad when you think about it."
She looked into his eyes, "You're right, it's not."
He embraced her and stroked her hair. They held each other in that embrace for a long time. His hand ran down her body and he began to grip and kneed her ass and kiss her shoulder. She shuddered and said, "Yes."
"Mhm," he murmured in agreement.
She said, "No."
The knife went up and plunged into his chest.