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**Title: The Apostate and the Bishop’s Wife**

“Bishop James, hello.”

“Brother Smith! Well gosh, I’ve been missing you. I –”

“I’m gonna stop you there.” It comes out louder than I meant. “I came to church for one reason.”

Everyone in the foyer looks at me. I didn’t mean to draw a crowd, but fuck it. “I need to tell you to your face that I’m done with this Godforsaken church. Mormonism is bull-fucking-shit and you are a fucked up, power-hungry, overly-chastity-preaching cancer for all these people.” I turn to his wife. “You deserve better.”

I feel like I’m floating as I leave, and I can’t suppress the grin. People talking – about me and to me – are muffled noise.

As I’m opening my car door, she calls out. “Shep!”

“Oh – Sister James. Hi.” She cuts across the lot at twice the speed I did, “What are you –”

“Call me Julie.” She catches her breath. “Please.”

“Right. Julie.”

“You – that was amazing.” She pauses. “What you said.”

Sister James. It was eight years ago when she and her husband moved into the neighborhood, the day after my 18th birthday. I remember because I had to drag my ass out of bed after staying up most of the night to help this new couple unpack their U-haul. I spent an hour moving furniture with Bishop James – not the bishop yet, of course – before she arrived.

The second she arrived, the prayers began. “Please Heavenly Father, forgive me thinking of Sister James like that. Please help me to be disciplined.” But it didn’t matter how many times I said it – I could not stop thinking about her. My fantasty was to have her teach me how to masturbate, as I had managed to follow the church’s teachings in that regard for my entire life. At one point I carried a dresser drawer into the bedroom to discover her on all fours, pushing boxes under the bed, ass up in the air. I dropped the drawer where I was standing and ran to the bathroom. It took ten minutes of reading scripture before the hard-on died down.

Before I can respond, she opens the passenger door and gets in my car. I follow suit. What the fuck is happening?

“I’ve seen you,” she says. I raise one brow. She brings a trembling hand to her blouse collar. “Since the day you helped us move in. You have this way of looking at me. It’s like you want to tear my clothes off wherever we are, even in the chapel. The bishop never looks at me like that.”

“Oh?” I drop my eyebrow and bite my lower lip.

“And there, the way you’re biting your lip right now. You do that when you’re flirting. I remember watching you do that to Milly when she would visit from college. You clearly wanted her.” She’s right.

She starts unbuttoning her blouse. I lean over and we move into each other. Our teeth bump as we kiss, and I back up. There’s nervous laughter from both of us. But we start again with precision. I suck on her lower lip. She bites on my top one. Her tongue teases mine. We slow it down – but don’t stop – and I unbutton the rest of her shirt. She runs a hand through my hair.

“I’ve been dreaming of this since I met you.” I take her blouse off as she talks. “But it was when you started college that I started to actually want you. I could see a change in your eyes when you’d visit home during the holidays, a ferocity.”

“I learned a lot at college. That will change you.”

“I bet you did.”

“What have you noticed about me, exactly?”

“The pool party last year was an especially revealing moment. I saw you flirting with that college freshman, Cassie Mayer. When she got close as you two talked, your body tensed. Your abs especially. And you had to shift your towel.”

Mormons wear religious undergarments. There is a white bottom and top with symbols over the nipples, the belly button, and near the knee. After I run my hands over her thighs, I cup her tits and feel over the symbols there with my thumbs. It’s a light touch, just like my school girlfriend liked on her nipples.

“Why do you think I shifted my towel?”

“Oh, I know why.” I grip her garment top around the collar. “I saw for a moment. The way it lifted your swimsuit. I didn’t need my imagination – not at all.”

I tighten my grip, then pull as hard as I can. Her undergarment splits from top to bottom. Her face flushes. “This is so wild,” she says. Her breathing gets louder, and I can feel her pulse as I put a hand on her neck. I’m about to go in for another kiss when she says, “I want to taste your – your, uh, cock.” I lean in and whisper, “Then taste it.”

“I’ve never said the word cock before,” she says as she bends over the center console and finds my zipper.

“Say it again.”

“I want to taste your cock.”

“My what?”

“Your cock.”

I push my seat back and down. She pulls my pants down to my ankles and brings her drooling mouth to my dick.

This can’t be fucking happening.

“Oh my gosh,” she manages to say with her mouth full.

“No, Julie. say, ‘Oh God.’”

“God!” she yells. It’s like she’s never done this before – like she’s wondering what her lips and spit could actually do to a cock. She looks up at me.

“Say fuck,” I order.

“Fuck! This is so fucking amazing. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

I pull her hair back again and guide her lips back down. She can barely take it an inch.

“Bishop James would never let me do this.”

“He can go fuck himself.”

She looks up at me. “Yeah, he can fuck himself.”

I guide her up to sit, discover her hands, then pull her across the console on top of me, her skirt falling over my legs while her pussy rests on the back side of my dick.

As she grinds into me, she says, “I’ve never felt so in control.”

“I’m going to hold firm. You find a movement and a pressure that gets you wet.”
It doesn’t take long for her to get to moaning and muttering fuck under her breath over and over.
“Julie,” I say. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

I grab her hips and twist her around, her head bonking the car ceiling only slightly. I rip her garment bottoms off. She kneels on the seat, and I slide halfway under her to eat her out from behind.
Her pussy lips are thick and swollen enough to feel like I’m burying my face into her, not just my tongue. And her pussy does soak my face. I use my hand on her clit to make her cum. She slams her fist on the horn five times, yelling, “Fuck yes!” over and over.

She looks over her shoulder at me as I settle back into the seat. I nod, slide a condom on, and let her sit back to take my cock into her pussy.

“You’re finally getting that good cock.”

“I want to keep your cock in me forever.” I hear the door lock and look to the side. Bishop James is looking through the tinted windows. “Please cum. Please, please, please. Let him see what I look like.

Let him see me being fucking happy, fucking satisfied, a fucking slut!”

I lift her up as I thrust and cum, and she bangs on the steering wheel again. She gets off my cock, jumps to the passenger side, and yells for me to drive. I peel out and fly out of the parking lot. Bishop James disappears in the rearview mirror, screaming and shaking his fist at us.

NSFW: yes

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