登入ReedI watched Rita for weeks before I made a move.She always stayed after the Thursday evening rosary to straighten the hymnals and wipe down the pews, moving quietly through the empty church like she didn’t want to be noticed. Soft cardigans. Long skirts. A wedding ring that caught the light every time she reached for the next book. Her husband sang in the choir and spent most evenings at practice. She had a lot of empty hours, and I had been filling them in my head for some time.That night the church emptied faster than usual. A light rain had started, and most people hurried to their cars. I waited until the last of them was gone, then walked down the side aisle toward her.“You’re still here
ReedMargaret Lane was forty-one and sat near the back of the church every Sunday like she was trying not to be noticed.She had the kind of body that looked soft and full under modest cardigans — heavy breasts, thick thighs, a rounded stomach she always tried to hide with loose fabric. Her husband was a deacon, which made the whole thing sweeter. He trusted me completely. He had even asked me once, after a parish council meeting, to “keep an eye on Margaret if she seems down. She gets lonely when I’m busy with church work.”I had smiled and told him of course I would.I chose a rainy Thursday evening for her.Most of the parish cleared out early because of the weather. Margaret stayed behind to help put away the hymnals, the way she always did. I waited until the last volunteer left, then approached her in the quiet aisle with the same warm, concerned expression I used for hospital visits.“Margaret,” I said gently. “You look tired. Is everything all right at home?”She gave me a sma
ReedHer name was Diana Walsh.Thirty-nine, married twelve years, three children, sat in the third pew on the left every Sunday with her hands folded neatly in her lap. She had the kind of quiet beauty that didn’t ask for attention — soft brown hair she usually kept in a low knot, full mouth, and a body that had only gotten thicker and softer after the kids. Her husband worked construction and looked exhausted even on weekends. I had watched the way she looked at me during the Eucharist for months. Soft. Hungry. Guilty about hunger.I waited until the second week of Lent to take her.After Wednesday evening Stations of the Cross, most of the parish cleared out quickly. Diana lingered near the side altar, lighting a candle. I approached with the same gentle expression I wore for every grieving widow and nervous bride.“Mrs. Walsh,” I said quietly. “You seem troubled tonight.”She turned, cheeks alread
Reed They always looked at me the same way during Mass. Soft eyes. Reverent smiles. The kind of quiet trust that came from believing I was closer to God than they were. I stood at the altar in my vestments, voice steady and warm, and spoke about purity, fidelity, and the sanctity of marriage while half the women in the first three pews crossed their legs a little tighter because of me. I noticed. I always noticed. Mrs. Carol Hensley was one of the worst for it. Thirty-six, married to a man who traveled too much for work, two children in the choir. She wore modest dresses that still couldn’t quite hide the heavy curve of her tits or the way her ass filled out the back of the skirt when she knelt. Every Sunday she stayed a little longer after service to thank me for the homily, eyes lingering on my mouth. This Sunday was no different. I waited until most of the congregation had filed out. The church was quieter then, just the soft sounds of a few people lingering near the
Hazel Two weeks later everything that used to be mine was in his house.My clothes hung in his closet. My toothbrush sat next to his on the bathroom sink. The short dresses he liked lived in the second drawer. My old place across the grass was already empty and listed for rent. Every night I slept in his bed. Every morning I woke up with his cock either inside me or resting heavy against my ass, and most of the time he made sure I started the day full of him before he left for work.The ring was simple and thick, a dark band that sat heavy on my finger. He’d put it on me the day after he proposed while I was still on my knees in the living room, his cum drying on my thighs. He hadn’t asked again. He’d just slid it on and said, “This means you’re mine on paper too. Don’t take it off.”I never did.---That night I was already waiting for him when he got home.I knew what he wanted. I’d learned the pattern quickly. On nig
Hazel I stayed on my knees until he finished in my mouth.Joel held my head in place with both hands while he came, thick pulses spilling across my tongue. He made me swallow every drop, then dragged the head of his cock over my lips one last time before stepping back. I stayed there breathing hard, chin wet, his cum still leaking out of me onto the living room floor.He looked down at me for a long moment.“Get up.”I stood on shaky legs. He pulled the dress the rest of the way off me and tossed it aside, leaving me completely naked in his living room. His eyes moved over my body — the bruises on my hips, the wet mess between my thighs, the way my nipples were still tight — and something darker settled in his expression.“You’re not going back to your place tonight,” he said. “Or tomorrow night. You’re staying here from now on.”My heart beat hard in my chest. “What about my things?”“We’ll get them later. Rig







