A Fun blowbang for the minister's wife

100% fiction!

In retrospect, it had been incredibly stupid. Beth was happily married. Okay, maybe not ‘happily’... but contentedly. Her deadbeat high school sweetheart had left her as soon as he found out she was pregnant, alienating her from her own family (Dad disowned her, and Mom would never cross him) and forcing her to raise her daughter alone, which she did to the best of her ability... but struggled with. Then, ten years ago, she met a minister who changed her life. Not only did he welcome her into his church, despite her being an unwed mother and poor, but he eventually started to woo her.

Why not? He’d been widowed for a couple of years, and Beth was young and gorgeous. Some in the church claimed that she was “too young’ for him; and still others “WAY too young.” But though 26 years her senior, she grew to really respect and care for the greying Reverend Williams. He was the first man in her life who really listened to her. So when he timidly asked her to dinner, she accepted.

And when, on their 5th date, he finally kissed her... she kissed him back, and wasn’t repulsed by having his much older mouth on hers. In truth, she wasn’t looking for true love anymore... just a decent man who could help raise her daughter. And Keith Williams was nothing if not a decent man.

Since their marriage, Beth had done everything possible to win over all the doubters at the church. She was on every church committee. She always made sure there were flowers at either side of the pulpit at church. She volunteered every Saturday morning at a soup kitchen downtown until, one day, the kitchen closed down due to insufficient government funds. What did she do? She started another through the church itself, which still operated every Wednesday and Friday morning. So she worked hard to ‘earn’ the right to be a minister’s wife.

In turn, Reverend Williams was endlessly kind to her and, more importantly, to her just 18-year old daughter, something Beth herself sometimes found hard to do now that Sarah was a rebellious late teenager.

“You’re a minister’s daughter, Sarah!” she’d yell sometimes, in exasperation, when Sarah tried leaving home dressed in shorts so short and so tight up her crack as to make her look “like a whore. Is that really what you want?” Beth would shout. Curfews and groundings didn’t seem to work. Sarah was brilliant, but her grades were so-so at best, because she’d always rather party or FaceBook than study.

So Beth wasn’t happy, per se. But she was relieved to have a rock-like stable husband she could cling to, even if there were times she herself envied Sarah, for her freedom to just let loose.

And so it was that, on that first morning when the contractor and his two associates were due to show up to renovate the basement bathroom, she decided to have a little girl-like fun. She’d already met the contractor when he’d popped by to discuss things and give an estimate to her and her husband (Keith), and he was everything a naughty girl might want... tall, and muscular, and late twenties... and black. AND he rode to their house on a motorcycle. So all the night before today, she’d fantasized about him. ‘Were the legends she’d heard about black men true?’ she wondered.

So when she got up in the morning, she uncharacteristically lingered longer than usual in the bathroom, and deferred getting dressed until AFTER Keith had left for work. He had a full day of meetings and visitations, he told her. He even had to leave town for a few hours to visit another minister who was in the hospital... a dear old man who now was 84 years old and had been a mentor to him.

The contractor had said he’d be by at around 8:30. His “boys”, as he called them, would be by later “probably about 9:30”, because there were a few materials he might want them to pick up if they didn’t get to it the day before. In other words, the big handsome black contractor would probably be there for maybe an hour before the others, and Beth decided to have some innocent flirtatious fun. THAT was the FIRST of what would end up being a series of bad decisions that ultimately would spell her doom.

The SECOND bad decision related to her underwear. You see, being married to a very conservative minister had been less exciting than she’d wanted from life, so she’d afforded herself a couple of harmless naughty indulgences. One was having two drawers full of sexy bras and panties. And so today, after her husband had left, she went to those drawers and rummaged through them, ultimately pulling out a sexy white bra and even sexier pair of hot pink, satin bikini panties... and pulled them on.

THIS is where the THIRD fateful decision was made. She COULD have just hidden those sexy panties under a nice pair of jeans (and sexy jeans were another of her little indulgences)... but she REALLY felt like being naughty. So instead, she pulled on one of her husband’s t-shirts. But when she went to look at herself in the mirror, she shook her head. That t-shirt was so over-sized and baggy on her, she might as well have hidden her sexy underwear under a potato sack.

So - and here’s the FOURTH bad decision – she went to her closet and pulled out a tight sweater she had instead, and a pair of pink heels. This outfit looked MUCH better in the mirror. When she pulled the sweater down all the way, actually stretching it, it covered her panties 90%. But as soon as the stretch was gone, her panties became almost fully visible. And if she raised her arms a little, even a bit of skin above her panties showed.

No. ‘This is too risky,’ she thought to herself. But THAT’s when she heard what she thought might be the contractor’s truck and made her FIFTH fateful decision... which was to run out to the laundry room next to the kitchen and throw a just-cleaned pair of laundry, including some of her jeans, back into the washer. That way, she could plead that she was just waiting for clean pants to finish dressing. She rushed back out to the front door to see if it was the contractor... and it wasn’t. Phew! That was close. She still had time to rush back to her bedroom and pull on some jeans.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she rushed into the bathroom and quickly put on some bright pink lipstick to match the colour of her panties, and then into the kitchen. There, she quickly pulled a sheet of paper, a pen and some Scotch tape out of a drawer and wrote “Tyrone. Door is open. Just come in” on it. This time she heard what she was sure was a vehicle in her driveway and ran back to the front door hoping she’d have time to tape the sign up without him seeing her.

He was still in his truck, on his cell-phone. So nervous she felt like she was going to pee, she stood on her front porch in her heels and panties to quickly tape her make-shift sign up on the door. She glanced back towards the truck. The contractor was still on his phone. Her breath quivering, she lingered a minute on the porch, and then went back inside, leaving the front door slightly ajar.

Last chance to throw on some jeans. But she rationalized that her favorite jeans, the ones she WOULD have pulled on, were now in the wash. So she swallowed hard and returned to the kitchen sink, to pretend to be making coffee and doing dishes. At the sink, staring out the window into the back yard, she took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Her knees were shaking when she heard the creak of a door opening slowly, and then the contractor’s voice calling from the front door.

“Mrs. Williams?” he called out quietly. He didn’t want to wake her if she still was sleeping.

“Mrs. Williams?” he called again, this time a bit closer.

“Mrs. Wil...” his voice was cut short.

Beth whole body was quivering with nervousness when she heard him stop. But she took a deep breath and resumed washing the same dish she’d been washing for over 2 minutes.

“Uh... Mrs. Williams?” Tyrone said.

Beth turned around quickly and tried to look surprised. “Oh. You scared me,” she said. “I thought you were coming by at 9:00.” She might have been convincing... if her voice wasn’t quivering so much. Tyrone had seen this movie before.

“Uh... no,” he said. “I said 8:30. Do you want me to leave and come back?”

“Oh no!” Beth said – and THAT was convincing. “W-w-would you like some coffee?”

She tried reassuring herself that he’d hear the clothes washer and assume the dirty pants thing.

“S-s-sure,” he said, playfully mocking her.

Beth’s better senses had resumed possession of her for a second, so she’d pulled her sweater down all the way. But that’s when she remembered that the coffee cups were in a cupboard above her head. She reached up and inwardly cringed. Tyrone had taken a seat at the kitchen table and just smiled at her. She saw that smile when she turned around, and immediately realized that the charade was up. She wouldn’t even both to pull her sweater down anymore.

“So, Tyrone,” she said, her voice soft and shaking.

“You know, Mrs. W.,” Tyrone said. “The last pretty white chick who flashed her panties at me like this ended up with my huge dick in both her ass AND her mouth.”

Beth just swallowed nervously, but could say nothing.

Instead, she turned to the stove to resume making the coffee.

“I wasn’t expecting you until later,” she lied.

“Uh huh,” Tyrone answered, knowingly. “Do you normally wear 3-inch pink heels when you make morning coffee?”

Beth could say nothing.

“And do your shoes and lipstick always perfectly match your panties?”

Again, Beth could say nothing.

“No worries, Mrs. W.,” Tyrone said brashly. “I’ll just sit back and enjoyyyy the view.”

Beth let out a deep breath, and resumed her coffee making. Finally, she brought him his cup and asked him if he took milk or sugar with it.

“I WOULD like some sugar, ESPECIALLY if it’s up in that cupboard somewhere.” He winked. “But as for milk... I’m more of a cream type of guy,” he said. “Nice, thick, white cream. Aren’t you?”

She didn’t even notice that she’d stopped breathing.

As it turned out, the sugar WAS high up in that same cupboard. By the time Beth had fished it down, her sweater was at least 2 or 3 inches above the top of her panties; but pulling her sweater down at all would just seem stupid now... so she left it and quietly carried the sugar to her guest.

“Do YOU taste sweet too?” he said, eyeing the crotch of her panties.

‘Oh shit!’ Beth thought. ‘What have I done?’

Nervously, she returned to the sink to wash that dish again. The funny thing was... she actually had a dishwasher, which she now remembered. She reached down to put the dish into it, and Tyrone again admired the sweetness of her ass as she bent over.

“Bending over like that is a sure way to end up with a dick up your ass,” he said, succinctly.

This really caused her to lose her breath. No one had EVER spoken like this to her before... and certainly not in years and years. She picked up a spoon and just held it, shaking and gasping for air.

And then she dropped the damn thing. And THIS is where the SIXTH fateful decision was made. She could have just left that damn spoon on the floor... could have decided to go put on a dressing gown... or even decided just to squat down to pick up the spoon. But instead... slowly and deliberately and almost passing out with fear... she bent all the way over, from the waist, to pick up the spoon.

THAT’S when she heard Tyrone’s voice even closer.

“You really WANT it, don’t you, Mrs. W.?”

She remained frozen with fear, her hand still a few inches from the spoon.

“We’re happy to oblige,” he said. And THAT’S when she heard a zipper being pulled down, and felt two big hands on her ass, one of them pulling her panties to the side, and then a finger being pushed up into her rectum.

“Oh,” she whimpered quietly as she felt him probing inside her.

“Lick this, Mrs. W.,” he then said, reaching out to hold his second finger out by her right cheek. Slowly, but dutifully, she turned her head and took it into her mouth. She felt a small piece of shit hit her tongue... but still she sucked the finger clean.

Then that finger returned to her ass, accompanied by Tyrone’s middle finger. Soon, she was licking them both clean. She couldn’t believe it.

“Now comes big Daddy,” Tyrone said. “Get over here, Darius,” he added. “Help this sexy white bitch not to scream.”

‘Darius?’ Beth thought. ‘What?’ But before she could turn to look or say anything, she was being turned by another set of hands, and before she could respond, in fact the very second she opened her mouth, one of Tyrone’s boys’ huge black dick was stuffed into her mouth.

“Hghmmmmmm!” she squealed as he immediately forced it down her throat. And THAT’S when she felt her asshole being stretched beyond imaginable as Tyrone’s cock penetrated.