To join the circle

The love of your life turned to you… not in askance really, but to check in with how you were handling all this. He knew he didn’t need your permission for anything. The very basis of your relationship over all these years had always been that Ben followed every off-hand whim that came to him, and you were just excited to be along for the ride. You didn’t feel any right to possess him, any more than one could own the sunrise or the feel of a soft summer breeze. To you, he was a personification of freedom itself; from all those years of pretending to be someone you weren’t and all the stifling traditions and unspoken rules that had led you to do so.

Which wasn’t to say you didn’t feel a pang of jealousy, as he stepped forward into the circle and towards the wide open legs of the preacher’s wife. It had been immediately clear how hungry that blonde harlot was to wrap those long, toned limbs around the centre of all your world… and you still always held a deep, secret insecurity that Ben might suddenly decide he preferred a real woman, when given the chance. Admiring the unveiled lines of that pigtailed creature’s form, as one slut to another, you could tell she took great pains to weaponize that body for one purpose and one purpose only. You began to wonder what paths in life might have led her and her husband into this decidedly open relationship with spirituality and each other. Perhaps many secret, sleepless nights at one Christian summer camp or another? Sneaking out into the dark under the noses of watchful guardians, only to clamber in through the window of the boy’s dorm? The voyeur fantasist within yourself couldn’t help but chase aroused imaginings of other people’s sexual journeys, whatever you thought of them personally.

“Let the circle be joined.” Stated the vicar, watching Ben clamber up onto the altar and into his wife’s embrace. As much eager fascination clear in his eyes as was in her own.

You flinched suddenly, to realise someone had taken hold of your genitals… only to look around and realise the entire group was shuffling closer and following suit. To your right the tall, pregnant woman took your hand gently but firmly and applied it to her own exposed womanhood. To your left, the swollen shaft of a grey-haired man with kind eyes stood waiting, even as its owner reached down to cup your shaved testicles. Simple group peer pressure and the urge to never disappoint gave you **** but to reach out and take hold of this stranger’s penis, meeting the hand of ‘Jenny Harris’ in the process. Clearly, recently freed from her virginity or not, she was quite used to this part of the proceedings.

Quite soon the entire group was linked, hand to cock to cunt. Every one of you feeling the press of two other’s sex against your fingertips. Somehow, it seemed to create a looping electric current of anticipation and sensitivity. Like sharing wholesale those secret, quiet moments where two lovers are checking whether the other is asleep. Every slight movement at one point in the circle sent a Mexican wave of answering shivers around the rest, only amplified by the amount of hands and souls it passed through. If nothing else, you certainly now felt connected to this motley collection of humans in a way you’d never really experienced before. Sharing a sense of intrinsic intimacy amongst these holy surrounds that you’d never quite found in all your religious upbringing. Above and around, saints and martyrs looked down on you all from their stained-glass perches and stern-faced statues… though whether in disapproval or just impatience, you couldn’t tell.

Before you all, Ben and Masie began their performance. You watched your most beloved appendage in all the world slide itself up to the hilt inside a wet and waiting passage. By accident or divine design you had a perfect view of Mrs Donnahue’s lower flower, as it stretched and opened to engulf your lover. A slight wave of nausea came over you, staring so intently at the intimate details of this physical exchange. Yet you could not look away, nor deny the answering swell and throb from your own loins. You felt the grip of two strangers tighten around what once might have been your manhood, and knew you were now lost to the moment. Through all the twinges of doubt, jealousy and general distrust of this bunch of cult-like weirdos; first and foremost you were a horny, little nympho like always. When push came to shove, the awkwardness, embarrassment and insecurity just led you further down the path of excitement. Your sissy heart thumped feverishly at the taboo of experiencing such things here, in one of the very halls of those who had told you time and time again how utterly wrong you and everything you wanted were.