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Fucking the pastors wife 41 sec. Fifties Wife Obeys Hubby 19 min. ZMy pastor wife Fucked 85 sec. Blonde wife gets fucked with her husband watching 8 min. Cum Covered Swapped Wife 9 min.

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How old am I: 28
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My name is Ted Ashton and I am twenty-six years old. I am assistant pastor at what some of our detractors have called the richest church in northern Fucking the preachers wife. We are that, of course, but I don't like to describe us that way. It was a choice job offer that I got right after I received my Doctor of Theology degree. Unlike most assistant positions it paid well and I was looking forward to a good appointment in one of several churches in Virginia or North Carolina where several pastors were well into their sixties. I had preached sermons by invitation in several of these churches and I thought some were looking me over seriously.

In school, Homiletics was my best subject and I took pride in reaching my listeners with a simple, clear message that they understood, remembered, and took to heart. There was a professor at Chapel Hill who gave a lot of talks about "The Historical Jesus" and every time one of my flock heard him I was faced with questions. I finally developed a sermon titled "The Historical Jesus in a Christian Context" which turned out to be the most popular sermon I had ever given, as well as a popular Sunday school lesson.

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I was often asked to give that sermon. Unfortunately it was not popular with some of my friends who were theological scholars.

The last time I was in Danville at a theological meeting I took a lot of good-natured kidding from them. My pastor was Doctor Wade Jiles, from an old southern family. He had been a very successful minister and, like many pastors in our denomination he had received the DD degree, which was an honorary degree. This meant he was addressed as "Doctor. For reasons lost in the mists of history, our denomination preferred to address their ministers as "Doctor" rather than "Reverend" or "Pastor" like the Lutherans.

It was often said, and sometimes it was true, that if a congregation donated enough money to a seminary, their pastor would get a DD. Jiles was past his middle fifties and his health was not good. There was talk of his moving to emeritus status. This would open a position for me and I had several enthusiastic supporters in our church.

Jiles wife, Pam, was a solid rock of support for him and, indeed, she was a key leader in our church. Her education had been in counseling, and she was consulted more often, even, than her husband by parishioners seeking advice. Their daughter, Chris was a senior at Charlottesville, majoring, like her mother, in psychology. She was destined to be a preacher's wife.

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I had dated Chris on numerous occasions and I think Dr. Jiles saw me as a prospective son-in-law. I agreed. In short, I felt like I was knowledgeable and on top of things and in control and ready to advance in my chosen profession.

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Then my safe and cozy world collapsed all around me in an unlikely series of unbelievable events and I found myself in an impossible situation, as difficult to describe, as it is to imagine. It all began in Dr. Jiles' study just off the sanctuary on a cloudy fall afternoon. Jiles sat me down in a big, soft leather chair where people consulting him always sat.

He was at his desk and he began to speak in a solemn voice. It's hard for me to discuss this because it is so very personal. Pam and I have talked about it night after night and we have finally reached what we think is a possible solution -- an unusual solution -- you may even think it bizarre. But it all depends upon you.

I want you to have a talk with Pam about my condition and then you and I need to talk again. It was a simple direct statement and when he completed it he rose from his chair and left the room, holding the door open for Pam who entered and sat down. When he was gone and the door was closed, Pam began to talk in the same solemn voice her husband had used. On his annual physical exam, the blood test for his prostate was elevated.

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He had a biopsy and they found cancer. After a lot of talk and tests we decided to have surgery.

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We kept everything very quiet and went to Hopkins where the best guy in the field operates. But even the best guys aren't always perfect.

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The wrong nerves got cut and he became impotent. Pam poured a glass of water from a pitcher on the desk and offered me a drink. I declined and she drank half the glass herself. I think she wanted time for me to absorb the gravity of what she had said.

I remembered the "vacation" they took six months ago. I had preached a series of sermons on Job while he was gone. Pam continued. We have always had a solid sexual relationship and he was frustrated with a desire he couldn't fulfill. I was just as frustrated as he was.

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And, although I tried to keep that a secret from him, I think he figured it out. That's when his doctor tried to suppress his male hormones with a drug called leupro-something. I think it might have been leuprolide or leuproside.

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Anyway he had a very bad allergic reaction -- like a heart attack. They said he couldn't take that drug, or anything like it ever again. There's still a treatment that often controls prostate cancer. Do you know what I'm talking about? They're gonna castrate him! If he can't take that drug, that's the only way to shut off the male hormones that are making his cancer grow. It's actually the best thing for him. He'll be a lot better off with his balls hanging in a bottle of formalin in the hospital path lab than swinging between his legs sending ideas to his head that his dick can't follow up on.

Then after a moment of silence she said, "For him, maybe, but not for me! I haven't had sex for six months. It's starting to affect my mind. I told him I couldn't go on like this. I'm fifty-two and a lot of women don't Fucking the preachers wife it at that age but I can't go on this way. I just can't. She sat there, obviously in severe mental pain. Then she got up without a word and walked out of the room. She held the door open for Dr. Jiles who entered and closed it behind him. He moved to the desk and sat down. Then began the strangest conversation I had ever engaged in.

Sex was not mentioned once. He talked in the most general terms -- almost like a sermon. I tried to ask questions but all I got back were generalities about people and needs and sins and God and right and wrong and casting the first stone.

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And when he finished he got up and, wordlessly, left me alone in the room. I felt strange. Very strange. He talked gibberish but somehow I understood. He had not said it! He had never said it! And yet, as I got up and walked out of the church through a silent, empty sanctuary, I knew in my heart what he was asking me to do.

He was asking me to fuck his wife!

Alone in my apartment that night I thought again and again about that conversation. I'm a preacher, but not a prude. I'd fucked my share of girls since college. Of course I had to be very careful to avoid even the slightest suspicion. I had always thought of it as a search for "safe pussy. So far I had a spotless reputation. But fuck the preacher's wife?