The Devil Comes Out at Night Pt. 05


Jeana and I became obsessed with behinds, both male and female. Maybe obsessed is the wrong word, but we enjoyed talking about them and speculating about them, often giggling when we were at church events, the way girls do in junior high school.

Several of the congregation’s men had particularly nice behinds, and nicely tailored Sunday trousers that showed them off. The women, in their conservative dresses and skirts, were harder to read. In a congregation of nearly fifty women, there was usually at least a few each week that were in a peacock mood. That’s what Jeana and I called it when a woman broke with the boring ranks on a particular Sunday; we’d say, “Ooo, she’s in a peacock mood.”

You never knew who it was going to be, although there was quite a few who you knew it was never going to be — those most proper of church ladies. Cynthia Marley sort of fell into that camp, although, as I’ve told you before, if you’re lucky enough to see her in bluejeans it’s a completely different story. But those sightings are extraordinarily rare. Three times in nearly ten years. The body she presented on Sunday after Sunday was shrouded in frump; plain, loosely cut dresses that gave scarcely a hit at her big breasts and her trim waist and her eye-popping behind. Kardashian curves. Big booty. Junk in the trunk. Badonkadonk. I just looked that last one up to make sure I spelled it right, and the sentence to show how to use the word correctly was this: “Her badonkadonk made a brotha pop mad wheelies.” That made me laugh. We don’t have any ‘brothas’ in the congregation, but men are men. On that work day in the Fellowship Hall, when Cynthia was on her hands and knees in her tight jeans, I’ll bet more than a few of our men popped a boner, if not a full-on wheelie.

I wasn’t well acquainted with the Devil back then. Yes, I’d noticed Cynthia’s ass that day. I mean, who didn’t? It was so out there, and her super stretchy jeans so shockingly showed the topography of her big pussy. I certainly didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing, and the many men in attendance that day didn’t say anything either. I’m sure the last thing they wanted to do was have her leave in embarrassment and end the sexy show. I’m also sure they were all disappointed to see her revert to her frumpy dresses again, starting that next Sunday and continuing until the very summer I’m writing about, the summer when the Devil was changing some of our minds.

The beginning of her transition happened on a warm Sunday morning. The church’s windows were open and birdsong filtered in, and she walked in wearing a dress I hadn’t seen before.

“Cynthia’s in a peacock mood!” Jeana whispered, her voice excited.

I nodded. Our silly little game of voyeurism had been going on for a while, and having Cynthia finally play into it was more of a thrill than it probably should have been. Jeana and I were critical of the nosy nellies in the church, but we’d become an odd bizarro world version of them ourselves, searching happily for glimpses of sexiness.

Cynthia was alone that morning, as always, and a big oversized handbag hung from her hand, as usual. What was different was the dress. It was a burnt orange color; not bright and flashy, but a stronger color than the muted tones she usually wore. The tailored shape of it was a departure for her, too; the mid-section actually curved inward and showed off her trim waist. Somebody smarter than me decided that things that curve inward must curve outward again, and on Cynthia that meant tits and ass. She wasn’t just a frump in a tent, she was showing off more than a little badonkadonk! I gave Jeana a tilt of the head to have her follow me, and I marched right over to say hello.

“Hi Cynthia,” I said. “Gosh, I love the color of that dress. Is it new?”

“Yes. Well, no. Sort of. I got a big box in the mail a few weeks ago, from my mother. This was one of hers, from back when she was my age. I wasn’t sure if…does it look okay on me?”

Cynthia stood there, nervously smoothing the dress over her hip with her hand.

“It’s fantastic,” Jeana said. “Oh my gosh, I love it.”

“I wasn’t sure if it was right…for church.”

“Why, because it’s a little curvy?” I asked. “It’s 2017, we need to come out of the dark ages around here. You look wonderful. Don’t let all the nosy nellies discourage you. You know the ones I mean.”

Cynthia nodded and looked down at herself. She seemed very unsure, and her lack of self confidence was palpable.

“Would you like to join our club, Cynthia?” I asked. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Jeana and I have been trying to dress less conservative lately. We get the evil eye once in a while from some of the others, but it’s fun to wear more womanly things. Maybe we’ll start a trend.”

“Yes, lets,” Jeana said. “You can sit with us, too, if you want. It’s not a crowded pew.”

“I noticed…you’re sitting together now,” Cynthia said. “But…you’re with your husbands…”

“We’ll put you right between Jeana and me,” I said.

“Well…maybe…just for today,” Cynthia said.

“Good,” illegal bahis I said. “This place is too stuffy with everyone sitting in the same place every week. Even Reverend James complains about it sometimes.”

“Does he?” Cynthia asked.

“We should take our seats,” I said.

We walked up the aisle and found Bob, looking sharp in his summery linen suit, chatting with one of the elderly men.

“Cynthia’s going to sit with us,” Jeana said to him. “Isn’t that nice?”

“That’s fantastic,” Bob said. “That’s a beautiful dress, Cynthia.”

“Oh, thanks,” she said, looking shy.

“We’re right here,” I said, shuffling my way into the long pew. I left a space at the end and sat down. “Donald will join us when he’s done ushering.”

Cynthia sat down next to me, pulling the hem of her dress down over her knees as best she could. Jeana sat next to her and Bob sat next to Jeana.

“So, are we taking bets on what the sermon’s about today?” Bob said, leaning forward so he could speak to all three of us gals. “I’m putting my money on Jesus.”

Jeana elbowed him and chuckled. Cynthia chuckled, too, and I could see her relax. I was glad.

“That perfume is lovely,” I said to her. “Do you have men following you around wherever you go?”

“No,” she chuckled. “I wish.”

“Maybe your mother’s dresses are the key.”

Cynthia smiled. I remember thinking how odd it was — her using her mother’s looks to be sexier, and me abandoning my mother’s looks to reinvigorate my sex life. Such is the way it goes — different strokes for different folks.

Donald slipped in next to me and leaned forward to say hello to Cynthia. I saw his eyes make quick, surreptitious work of her dress and her body. He smiled at me with an odd look in his eyes. Organ music soared and we all stood and sang. Sunday service was underway.

The coffee was piping hot in the Fellowship Hall after the service, and the trays of donuts seemed extra laden. Cynthia was still with us. She seemed happy to be included in our little group. I thought back to high school and all the cliques, and how easy it was to end up an outsider, even when you probably could have fit in. Donald and Bob were chatting with one of the men about a new car he’d just bought, and Jeana and I found ourselves alone with Cynthia, the three of us sitting on a couch against a long expanse of wall. Cynthia’s pretty dress had ridden up a little and her knees were showing. It was a first for her, as far I knew.

“You should spend the day on the boat with the four of us,” Jeana said to her, surprising me. “We call it the bikini boat. It’s the best place to get a tan. I think it’s all the reflections from the water that makes it so good.”

“Bikinis? You two wear them?”

“Sure,” I said. “I know we’re old, but…”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Cynthia said. “It’s just…I don’t know…with your husbands…”

“They love it,” I said. “Makes ’em feel young again. Us, too.”

“It’s a nice relaxed atmosphere,” Jeana said. “They’re pretty laid back guys, even more so when they’re away from here. We have fun. You should join us. Have you ever been on a big boat?”

“No. My uncle has a pontoon boat at his camp. I’ve been on it a few times.”

“Ours has a bathroom and a kitchen. Plenty of privacy to change clothes. It’s like a floating camp. How about next Saturday if the weather’s good. We’re on Odaya Lake, at Pirate’s Harbor Marina. You can meet us there.”

“I Guess. I mean it’s really nice of you to invite me. Yeah, I’d love to.”

“Great!” Jeana said. “We’ll get lots of sun. It’ll be fun.”

“Do you have a bikini, Cynthia?” I asked. “That store at the mall, Silkies, they have everything on sale right now. I was in there the other day.”

“I have one. I only wear it in my backyard, when I’m tanning.”

“Any cute neighbors?” Jeana asked, winking.

“Not really, no.”

“You probably see lots of cute guys at the bookstore.”

“Oh, yeah. But I’m like the worst at any kind of flirting. It seems like every year I get farther and farther from knowing what I’m doing. I hate to admit it, but the last real boyfriend I had was back in college.”

“Boy, I wish I knew someone your age to hook you up with,” I said. “Are you fussy about age? Do you like younger men and older men?”

“Sure, I guess. I really shouldn’t be fussy, still single at my age.”

I sipped my coffee and looked at Cynthia’s bare knees. “I really like that dress on you. You said there’s others?”

“Yeah, she sent a whole big box. There’s probably a dozen. I don’t think she wore them much. She was always into clothes, buying new things and not wearing them much. Sort of a shop-a-holic, I guess you’d say. I don’t think they called it that back then.”

“You can wear one each week to church. That’ll take you right through the warm weather.”

“Some of them are more, like, for cocktail parties.”

“Everybody’s so afraid to drink these days,” Jeana said. “Gosh, my parents had casino siteleri some rip-snorter parties and everyone drove home. I think life was a lot more fun back then.”

“We just have to make our own fun,” I said. “Iced tea with rum in it, on a big boat in the sunshine. Be there or be square.”

Jeana and I smiled, and Cynthia smiled, too.

When Jeana and I talked on the phone I told her I was surprised that she’d invited Cynthia for a day on the boat. She said she thought it would be good for Cynthia, and I agreed. She said I should be able to keep my clothes on for one Saturday, and I agreed with that, too. I wasn’t sure how the men would do. I worried about easily aroused boners under skimpy swimsuits and Cynthia getting freaked out by it.

I hadn’t talked to Bob about the plan for the day, but Donald seemed happy about it. He was surprised Jeana and I had encouraged Cynthia to wear a bikini, and he was certain she’d never do it. “Not Cynthia. A bikini? With me and Bob there? No way.” I bet him twenty dollars that she’d wear one, and he took the bet without hesitation.

Jeana called on Tuesday. She said both she and Bob were disappointed that the four of us would be missing out on our usual Saturday debauchery, and she asked me if Donald and I would like to come to their house for some pizza on Friday night. I told her I’d need to check with Donald. It seemed like a big step, having sex with them in their house, maybe even on their bed. The church would call it their marital bed. The Devil might call it that, too.

Of course Donald said we should go. He’s not one to turn down a chance at sex with Jeana. I was glad we were going, but it still felt like a big step.

I spent the afternoon that day out in our backyard, working on my tan. After a while I felt guilty about just laying there, so I brought an exercise mat outside and I worked on some crunches and a low plank and some leg lifts and scissors. It was very hot out and I was sweaty and really in the zone, burning calories and sort of numb to the world.

I heard a soft clicking sound so I looked next door, and there, twenty feet away from my sweaty, shiny body, was our neighbor Martin, clipping his long hedge with small little clippers, the kind meant to prune one small branch at a time.

“Oh, hi Martin,” I said. It was his first look at me in full bikini regalia, without the sweatpants I had on the only other time he’d seen me out of my usual street clothes. “Boy, it’s another hot one, huh?”

“It sure is,” he said. “I’m impressed with your endurance in these kind of conditions.”

I smiled. He’d obviously been watching me a while. “What do you think?” I said, holding my arms out wide at my sides. “Am I worthy of a bikini yet?”

“Oh, God yes,” he said, without hesitation. “Have been right along. Now I know how you keep that nice shape of yours.”

“Oh, the exercise is a new thing. I wish I’d been doing it for years, but Donald and I have just been getting serious about it recently. We have church friends who have a boat, so we’ve been out of our clothes a lot more than we used to be.”

The honesty of the statement made me tingle, and my nipples bloomed. Martin had seen it happen before, with a different bikini top, and the one I had on was just as bad at hiding my arousal.

“What kind of a boat is it?” he asked.

“It’s a big old wooden cabin cruiser. A Matthews. Forty-five feet I think. It’s like fifty years old or something. It’s in really nice shape though.”

“Just like you,” Martin said, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, you’re sweet, Martin. Gosh, I’m just dripping. Too hot for any more today. I’ll see you, Martin. Tell Ellen I said hello.”

I sashayed my ass more than usual as I walked to the house. I wonder if Martin noticed me smiling.

Cynthia called. She said, “I was thinking maybe I should get a different bikini. Do yours and Jeana’s…how much coverage do they have?”

“Ours are pretty skimpy,” I told her. “That’s not what you thought I’d say, probably, right? Jeana’s always worn them that way, I think, and I figured if you’re gonna go bikini you might as well go all the way. Why, what’s yours like? You said you just have the one?”

“Yes, just one. I wear a one piece if I’m ever at a pool or the beach. Bikinis, though…I thought maybe I should get something with a little more…coverage.”

“You said you wear it in your yard, didn’t you?” I said. “I say go for it. No need to spend more money if you’ve already got one. We’ll all be sort of alike. It’ll be good.”

“Okay. If you think so.”

“Bring a towel,” I said. “The swimming’s super nice in the lake. The water’s really warm, I guess maybe because the summer’s been so hot.”

“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll see you Saturday morning then. Thanks Margaret. Bye.”

“Okay Cynthia. We’ll see you there.”

After I hung up I wondered just how skimpy Cynthia’s bikini was. I knew the boys would enjoy it, no matter what it looked like.

Friday was an poker siteleri odd day. I work Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, so I was at the office with Reverend James all day. He was working on his upcoming Sunday service, and I was working on some bookkeeping and payroll issues. It was difficult to keep my mind on my work because I knew that in just a few hours Donald and I would be at the Smythe’s house. I’d been there a few times but it was always in the daytime, usually before or after some shopping with Jeana. Going there to spend the evening, with Donald and Bob there, was a whole different thing. I was planning on wearing some of my sexiest new lingerie under my dress, and sitting there at my desk, listening to Reverend James paging through his big Bible looking for passages for his sermon, all I could think about was how long my dress would stay on after we got there. I wondered if Jeana would even bother with one — maybe she’d greet us at the door in a garter belt and stockings.

She ended up calling me to coordinate things, and we both decided sexy undies under sexy dresses would be fun. I could tell she was as nervously excited as I was; I could hear it in her voice. It’s funny; I’d had Bob’s cock in my pussy and in my mouth so many times I’d lost count, but going to their house to be real couple-swap swingers felt so decadent it made my toes tingle.

Walking in through their front door felt like a dream. It was truly surreal, and I was wondering if Donald was feeling the drug-like rush of it the way I was. Jeana looked beautiful, as I knew she would, and Bob seemed taller and more imposing than usual, almost like a movie star on the screen. I got a drink in my hand as soon as possible and started sipping, and before long I relaxed.

After a little while the casual cocktail party vibe was getting warmer, or maybe it was just me feeling the anticipation. Bob asked me if I wanted to see a project he’d been working on, and he led me up the stairs. I’d assumed all four of us would be going to the bedroom, but he surprised me by taking me to his office, a masculinely decorated space made out of a spare bedroom.

Bob, it turned out, was in the mood for some roll-playing. He pretended me and Donald being at the house was just a normal visit from church friends, and then he started to flirt the way a man might, asking me if I found him attractive. I smiled and let the fun of it draw me in and I played along, and soon he’d guided my hand to his crotch.

“Oh, my! Bob! What are you doing! Donald and Jeana are right downstairs! I don’t…think about you that way!”

“Are you sure, Margaret? You’ve made me wild with desire, ever since I met you.”

“But that’s…just wrong, Bob! We’re…married!”

“Do you feel me, Margaret? Do you feel how hard you make me?”

I was gently squeezing his growing lump through his khaki chinos. “I…do this to you?” I said.

Bob deftly unfastened the nice looking pants and he took hold of my hand and he moved it inside, to the warmth of his smooth, tight, boxer-briefs. “I won’t force you, Margaret; I know that’s a bad thing to do these days. I just wanted you to see. I’ve sensed your curiosity, in your eyes.”

“I am. I mean…I have been,” I said quietly, pretending to be shy. “You…every time I see you at church, it…makes me warm.”

“I know, Margaret. I know. I burn with fire every time I see you.”

Bob’s cock was rock hard. Somehow I’d worked it out of the flap on the front of his briefs, and its length and size looked astounding to me, the way it surely would have if it was the first time I’d seen it.

“Good Lord, Bob!” I exclaimed quietly. “This is you?”

“No, it’s you, Margaret. It’s you who make me this big, this hard. Take me in your hand. Please Margaret. Don’t make me beg.”

A hand job started, my hand on Bob’s big cock, and it was the most extraordinary thing. Nearly silent except for our heavy breathing and the sound of flesh on flesh, a sound that seemed to be amplified by the walls of the quiet office.

“We really shouldn’t,” I whispered, my voice all lusty breath. “This is so wrong. You’re supposed to be showing me church business.”

“This is all I think about when I see you at church, when I see you in your Sunday dress,” he said, his eyes dark and lusty. “Are you a woman who enjoys oral sex, Margaret? I dream that you are.”

“I…I never have. I’ve never tried it.”

“I’m here for you, if you’d like to know what a man feels like in your mouth.”

I kept stroked the big cock with my hand, looking at it the way I imagined another random woman from our congregation would look at it. Bob interrupted my quiet trance when he pushed his pants and underwear down to his thighs, letting his cock spring upward again in front of my surprised eyes.

“Good Lord!” I said, gazing lustily at the dark hairiness of his manly crotch.

“I’m here for you, if you want me,” he said.

My mouth opened and I took his big, hard shaft in on my tongue, and I closed my lips around him and the most magical blowjob was underway. All I could think of was the first time I had him in my mouth, up in that Adirondack cabin. His is a cock meant to be sucked, a perfect specimen if their ever was one. Porn worthy. It’s a shame the world can’t see him disappear into an eager woman’s mouth.

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