Mrs. Thompson The Mistress

The knock on the door was sharp, jarring him out of his post-orgasmic haze. Pastor James froze, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers were still slick with his own cum, his pants pooled around his ankles. He scrambled to pull them up, his hands trembling so badly he could barely fasten the button. “Just... just a moment!” he called out, his voice cracking as he tried to sound composed.

Another knock, louder this time. More insistent. He grabbed a tissue from the desk, wiping his hands quickly before tossing it into the trash. His breath was still coming in short gasps, the flush of shame and arousal still burning his cheeks. He smoothed down his shirt, trying to look like he hadn’t just been caught in the most compromising position of his life.

He opened the door, and there she was.

Mrs. Thompson.

She was a formidable woman, tall and curvaceous, with a presence that demanded attention. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun, tendrils escaping to frame her face. Her lips were painted a deep red, and her eyes, God, her eyes, were piercing, like she could see right through him. She was dressed in a tight-fitting dress that hugged her ample curves, the fabric straining against her chest and hips. James swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

“Pastor Gabriel,” she said, her voice low and smooth, like honey. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“N-no, of course not,” he stammered, stepping aside to let her in. His heart was racing, his mind reeling. What could she possibly want at this hour?

She stepped into the study, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. The scent of her perfume filled the room, a heady mix of vanilla and something darker, more seductive. She turned to face him, her eyes sweeping over him with an intensity that made him feel completely exposed.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, her tone casual, but there was an edge to it that made his stomach clench.

“I... I don’t know what you mean,” he lied, his voice shaky.

She took a step closer, and he instinctively took a step back, until his legs hit the edge of the couch. He stumbled, falling back onto the cushions. She didn’t give him a chance to recover. In one swift motion, she was on top of him, her knees straddling his hips, her hands pinning his wrists to the couch.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she purred, leaning down so her lips were inches from his ear. Her breath was hot against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Pastor. The way your eyes linger on my chest, my hips. You want me. Don’t you?”

“I... I...” he stammered, his mind going blank.

“Don’t lie,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his earlobe. “I can feel how much you want me.”

His body betrayed him, his cock already starting to harden beneath her. He tried to squirm, to push her off, but she was too strong, her grip on his wrists unyielding.

“Please, Mrs. Thompson, this is... this is wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Is it?” she asked, her tone teasing. She shifted her weight, grinding her hips against his growing erection. He let out a choked gasp, his body responding despite his mind’s protestations. “Because it feels so right.”

She released his wrists, her hands sliding down his chest to the hem of his shirt. She pulled it up, exposing his pale, trembling stomach. Her fingers trailed over his skin, her touch light but deliberate. He shuddered, his breath hitching as she reached the waistband of his pants.

“You’re so small, Pastor,” she murmured, her voice dripping with mockery. “Is this what you’ve been hiding under those prim and proper suits?”

He felt a wave of humiliation wash over him, his face burning with shame. But there was something else too, a twisted thrill at her words, at the way she was dominating him so completely.

She undid his pants with ease, pulling them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, already hard despite his embarrassment. She glanced down at it, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Pathetic,” she said, her voice cold. She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against his chest as she whispered in his ear. “But I think I can make you feel good anyway.”

Before he could respond, she was sliding down his body, her hands gripping his thighs as she positioned herself between his legs. He tensed, his mind racing, but there was no time to think, no time to protest. Her mouth was on him, her lips wrapping around his cock, and he let out a strangled moan.

The sensation was overwhelming, her warm, wet mouth sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. She took him deep, her tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down the length of him. He couldn’t help but thrust his hips, his body moving instinctively.

She pulled back, her lips popping off him with a soft smack. “Don’t be greedy,” she chided, her voice stern. She climbed back on top of him, her hands gripping his wrists once more. “You’ll take what I give you.”

With that, she shifted her weight, positioning herself over his face. He barely had time to process what was happening before she was lowering herself onto him, her dress riding up to reveal her sheer panties. The scent of her arousal hit him like a punch to the gut, and he felt his cock twitch in response.

“Lick,” she commanded, her voice firm.

He hesitated for only a moment before obeying, his tongue darting out to taste her through the thin fabric. She let out a low moan, her hips grinding against his face. The pressure was intoxicating, her heat and scent driving him wild. He lapped at her eagerly, his tongue pressing against her clit through the fabric.

“Good boy,” she purred, her hands tangling in his hair to pull him closer. “Harder.”

He did as she commanded, his tongue working over her with increasing urgency. She rocked against him, her moans growing louder, more ****. He could feel her trembling, her body tightening as she neared the edge.

“That’s it,” she gasped, her voice shaking. “Don’t stop.”

Her orgasm hit her suddenly, her body convulsing as she let out a sharp cry. He kept his mouth on her, lapping at her through her climax until she was panting, her grip on his hair loosening.

She slid off him, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. She looked down at him, her eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Not so pathetic after all,” she said, her voice soft but laced with amusement.

She reached down, her hand wrapping around his cock. His breath hitched as she began to stroke him, her touch firm, deliberate. His hips bucked, his body **** for release.

“Do you want to cum, Pastor?” she asked, her voice a low purr.

“Yes,” he gasped, his voice hoarse. “Please.”

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “Beg for it.”

“Please,” he pleaded, his voice breaking. “Please, let me cum.”