"Come with me, fill me up!"

Reverend Dicks pounded his wife from behind, eagerly following in the course of the young man who had just consummated Loving Community with Dorothy in her counseling office.

Dorothy's brief coitus with the quick-triggered novice had primed her for Henry's entry. The young man had broken ground and moistened her soil, feeding an ache to be filled. Her husband plowed wide and deep, turning the ache to glory, glory, glory. She called on God, Jesus, Fuck, and Henry as her husband took her over the top again and again.

Henry laughed with joy as his wife's pelvis rolled and her head bucked with waves of pleasure. Her rope of silvering gold hair shone in the afternoon light from the bedroom window.

"Oh Henry, Henry, please, when I come again..." she begged him.

"My angel," he said.

"Fill me!" Dorothy's head dipped and rose again, and her pussy squeezed down on Henry's shaft.

"AAAAH!" Henry cried out as he spilled his seed in Dorothy's garden. He plowed hard into her squeezing furrow as he spurted. "Aaaah!" Such joy. Such loving. Shared in joy with the community under God. Mrs. Patterson's juices mixed with Dorothy's. His seed mixed with the young man's in a fertile garden that had birthed three loving daughters. Life was a miracle.

"Ohhh, husband," Dorothy sighed. She eased off his shaft, her knees quivering, and climbed into bed, beckoning Henry to follow her.

Henry cuddled with his wife. Her eyes shone with joy. A little twinkle reminded Henry that Dorothy would have been happy to receive more plowing before he joined her. More plowmen and more seed to her furrow, till she was overflowing. But even when she received her fill, Dorothy always found Henry the best fit and the most satisfying.

"Looking forward to the wedding?" Henry asked, stroking her hair.

"Oh yes," Dorothy said.

Last wedding, Dorothy had officiated. During Consummation, she had welcomed the penis of each groomsman and the bride's father. Some of the women in the wedding party were left wanting, and Henry had had to stand to them, carefully pacing himself for their satisfaction. He understood the men's desire. Dorothy fairly glowed in her bright, embroidered peasant dress, wearing a stole showing couples of all colors and nations uniting in Loving Community, radiating joy as she led the couple in the marriage ceremony.

"But you give the vows this time, Henry," she added.

That way worked well too. Henry felt a throb and a hint of a third erection at the memory of the previous wedding where he had officiated.

"Did Mrs. Patterson have any news?" Dorothy asked.

"Well, an old friend from her bridge club is sweet on her," Henry said, "and she was hoping he would like to join the congregation."

Dorothy laughed. "I'm pleased to hear it," she said. "She does absorb rather a lot of your pastoral visit time. We're a little overdue to visit Mr. and Mrs. Concha, to take one example. The rest of the congregation has mostly had to settle for the assistant pastor. Who is a fine man, but..."

"Yes, I know, 'He's not Reverend Dicks.'" Henry laughed. "Nathan really is a pillar for me. We could never keep such a big congregation together without him and the deacons. I know he wants his own congregation someday. I worry about that day."

"Not to forget Laura and the deaconesses," Dorothy added, naming Nathan's wife.

"Laura and the deaconesses, certainly," Henry echoed. "Which Mrs. Patterson usually asks about with the notion of joining their number."

"But not this time?" Dorothy said.

Henry propped his head up on his elbow. "Not this time. She wanted us to put in for a second World Neighbors Exchange couple," he said. "She offered to host them."

"She has the room, I'll allow," Dorothy said.

"Do you think we should?"

Dorothy sighed. "Hmmm. I think..."