After years of struggling with infertility, Tamara and Doug are in marriage counseling. Tamara suspects her husband of cheating, but she also harbors her own secret: a serious, panty-wetting crush on their counselor, Pastor Green.
The distinguished-looking, gray-haired preacher is sympathetic to the needs of his parishioners, but the attraction he feels towards Tamara far exceeds these considerations. Lust seems to override his better judgment…leading him down the path of temptation…straight into the arms of sin.
This story contains breeding sex, erotic romance, oral sex, and adultery. All characters are eighteen and above. Adult 18+
“H-how are you?”
I had to tamp down the excitement that began to bubble in my tummy. He was concerned only on a professional basis, as he was my marriage counselor. “I’m fine.”
“Will we still be seeing you and your husband on Tuesday?”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He doesn’t want to continue the counseling.” Our eyes met, while my breathing kicked up another notch.
“I’ll…” he reached for the door, pushing it closed, which was a shock. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs—Tamara. Are things better between you?”
“Perhaps, he’ll change his mind.”
“I doubt it.”
His look betrayed sadness, which caught me off guard. Was I to be pitied? Should I feel sorry for myself? I had given in to bouts of depression over the years, because of my inability to get pregnant, but this recent development, my husband’s unfaithfulness, which hadn’t been proven yet, was a source of anger, not sadness. He seemed to find it pitiable that my marriage wasn’t as solid as it should be.
I took a step towards him, anxiously, thinking to leave, but his hand closed around my elbow, halting me. “Perhaps, I could speak to him. I might be able to change his mind. It’s a shame that things have not gone better, but it does take the effort of both partners to achieve success. You seem to want it more than he does.”
“I want to have a baby…” I murmured softly. “I…wish I could have one.”
In that moment, our eyes locked, as a wealth of attraction passed between us. His hand had yet to leave my elbow, and it felt warm, comforting. We were so close…far too close, yet it wasn’t enough.
“I’m sorry you’ve not been successful…Tamara.”
“I’ve been married for six years. I wanted a baby on my wedding night. I’m still waiting.”
Something flared in his eyes, his look darkening. The grip on my elbow tightened, and then a remarkable event occurred, as he wound his arm around the base of my back, pulling me to him. I could hardly catch my breath, the shock registering in waves. It was like one of my fantasies having come true, the desire to be in his arms, to be the center of his attention…and I was. He gazed at me, seemingly torn for a moment, conflicted, his chest rising and falling, but I couldn’t let the moment pass and disappear without telling him how I felt.
“Oh, Mr—Pastor Green. I…oh, my goodness.”
The feel of his arm around my back, the possessive nature of the embrace, sent a ripple of desire through me, drenching my panties with musky nectar—proof of my shame. But I could have cared less. I focused on his lips: pink, plump, inviting-looking, which I so desperately wanted to kiss.
“Oh, please…I might faint, if you don’t kiss me.”