Blame the Weather

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Angela White

Closing her book and sweeping both hands through her curly brown hair, Heather White crossed and uncrossed her long legs knowing what that was about. A storm was coming in from the southeast and that always made her feel sexy. At all other times it took a guy to be pressing her button before she became interested in sex.

The nearby town’s assistant librarian leaned back in her chair, pulled her short white skirt back and cupped her pussy. It was warm, almost vibrating and a quick slide of a finger confirmed it was a swollen and open a little, ready to open wide at the touch of a hot cock, not matter whose cock. Husband Ralph was away for two days and her toys were in the dressing room. She didn’t feel like walking that far to pull one out of the box because that permissiveness always made her feel she was such a slut. There was the long-spout china teapot her mother had found for her in England but asking people to drink tea after she had shoved the spout up her…gad, how embarrassing, even if it had gone through the dishwater a couple of times at high heat.

She patted her pussy again. It felt even warmer. The end of the rolling pin would do; nobody ate or drank off the handle. She rose, feeling tightness in her bra. So her tits were swollen; that wasn’t surprising.

Heather heard the wind whistle through the pines and knew from her tension the air pressure was up, ready to be blown asunder when the storm hit, backed by a low pressure system. They needed the rain. The wind-dried pastures were beginning to show signs of stress.

She squeezed a breast and knew she wanted sex. Then she heard it — a vehicle arriving.

Heather’s forehead squeezed in anguish. She hoped it wasn’t a lone woman who might not appreciate being fondled and coerced into licking and fingering and might rush off to the police to press charges of Travesti sexual violation against her.

She stood transfixed, like a doe ready to run. But run where? Although only mid-afternoon it was dull outside and because of the wide roof overhand she’d had lights on, so the caller would know someone was home.

There was a light knock at the door.

Then a heavier one.

And a real thump.

Heather hurried to the door ready to tell the caller to go away if it were a woman.

To her relief she saw it was a man.

To Heather’s horror she realized it was Rev Hopkins.

“Go away,” she shouted, her mind in an uproar. The young Rev Hopkins had only married Gweneth Proud last month and she and Ralph had attended the wedding. She attempted to slam the door but was out-maneuvered.

Bruce pushed a hip against the door to prevent it shutting. He pushed it open and came inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Heather — what’s wrong? Is there someone in here threatening you?”

“Only the Devil,” she said fearlessly, not minding if such talk scared the crap out of him.

“Oh you’re lonely.” he smiled. “And frightened of the forthcoming storm. I saw Ralph in town this morning and he said he and the boys were off to bring the cattle down from summer grazing on the mountainside. If it gets bad they’ll hole up in a cabin.”

“Please go Bruce. If you stay I’ll not be responsible for my actions.”

“Oh come on Heather, you are too soft and kind to hurt yourself or any other person,” he smiled, taking off his coat.

Heather looked for the bulge in pants but couldn’t make it out. Well, it was a cool day.

“Here, let me hug you and make you feel better.”

“Go away, don’t touch me,” she screamed. He looked alarmed and obviously grappled with her to try to calm her.

Heather Ankara Travesti reached for his zip and found the tab and jerked it down and had her hand over his underpants and around his warm dick before he really knew what was happening.

“Heather, what are you doing? Stop that at once.”

She knew what Rev Hopkins was doing. He was growing hard.

Bruce let her go.

Wrong move.

That allowed her to drop to her knees and begin to gobble him.

He tried a different tactic. “Heather, you are being a naughty woman. Spit that out and stand up and apologize.”

Fully deep-throating him Heather pulled right away, virtually hearing her pussy whimpering. She then held up his erection and slid her wet tongue from his balls along the full length to his helmet and then tongue-flicked just under the flange of the helmet.

Bruce cried “Oh Heather,” and grabbed two handfuls of her hair and groaned. She adjusted and slipped into full-blown fellatio and with her free hand began fingering herself until he said hoarsely, “Lay back Heather and allow me to fuck you.”

She obeyed but not before slipping off her panties.

“Good gracious, your vagina lips are positively pulsating,” he said.

Heather almost heard angels singing on high as he pushed his very willing and not overly large cock into her. She began rocking and he began plunging into her and pumping, but not in far enough for her. So she hooked her legs around him and squeezed him forward. He gasped as he fell another four inches in and his balls slammed against her ass.


He obliged, immense pleasure and no sign of guilt on his face.

Heather figured at thirty-four she’d been fucking regularly for fourteen years and say an average 1.5 fucks a week (not counting multiples) she’d had around 1400 shaftings istanbul Travesti in that time, and this would count as one of the more memorable because of the drama attached and because of who was fucking her. The poor guy worked up a real sweat and at last she felt ready, so she pressed his balls hard and squeezed him into her possible another half inch more.

He bellowed and in red-faced passion shot his load.

“Oh I’m sorry,” he squeaked in dismay. “I always pull out early with parishioners.”

“You fuck other people from our church?” Heather said, agog.

“Oh yes, women in need. But please…”

“I won’t tell a soul. No please give it to me doggy.”

Afterwards Heather walked off to the kitchen dripping juices to make coffee while Bruce showered and dressed.

Bruce bravely sat opposite his nude parishioner at the table, eyeing Heather’s still swollen breasts carrying some of his squeezing and sucking marks.

“You are a find-bodied woman.”

She smiled and told him what her pre-storm problem was. He looked amazed.

“That ties in with you attempting to shut me out and then make me go away. I brought this on myself.”

“Oh no, I wanted you to stay because I so desperately needed a man. It’s just that I had no wish to corrupt you, or minister.”

“Oh, it just part of our full ministry service,” Bruce smiled. “When you go off to visit your mother no doubt Gweneth will come out to administer to Ralph’s needs. Would you mind if I made the occasional extra call over and above my scheduled twice-yearly call?”

“No, not at all. Presumably when Ralph is away. We usually have wild weather from the southeast every ten weeks or so. Ralph would be out with our two men shifting stock into the lee of the mountain, giving you a clear route to plunder me.”

When Bruce was leaving he kissed Heather and looking at her kindly said she was truly a great fuck. Looking at her thoughtfully, stroking a breast he said: “You know in your case we’d be justified in not thinking this as adultery. We have to blame it on the weather.”


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