Pastoral Addiction to Masturbation Phone Sex

The truth will set you free will it not?  So succumb to your masturbation phone sex tendencies like I did.  Stop denying yourself complete indulgence of your lustful, sinful desires.
Three years ago I sat my ass in a pew and prayed for removal of my lustful tendencies.  Even as my ass kissed that pew I felt like a phony because I knew the truth about myself.  Praying to false Gods and pretending to be holier than thou only served to keep me down in the cesspool of all the other phonies who go through the motions of life to impress thy neighbor.
Sermon delivery by the pastor always made my loins swell up and often I would either masturbate in the ladies room of the rectory or I would manage to make it to my car.  His blue eyes brimmed over with the fire and brimstone messages that made me feel so guilty I could only be driven to cover up the shame.  I cover my shame with masturbation phone sex on my horny fucking pussy.
Raising his long arm skyward as if calling the heavenly host down his eyes would find me and there they’d lock.  Visions of us entwined in serpentine sexual positions his cock embedded in the holiest of holy cunts and me shooting him with the holy water of my pussy.  Over and over again I’d have this dream and wake with the powerful urge to engage in various acts of masturbation phone sex.  Sometimes I’d use toys and at other times I’d rub religious articles on myself and get off onto them.  I loved knowing that the stink of the flesh bore deep into the fibers of whatever it was.  I used rosaries and pages from the bible sometimes.  Just depended on my mood.
When I received the call that the pastor needed to speak in private with me about a spiritual matter I avoided the appointment for several weeks.  My attendance at church increased as I moved my delicious phone sex as up pew by pew until I sat in the front row.
That spiritual matter involved a psychic connection to the dreamscape of my mind.  I twirled my ankle and saw his eyes lock down on my feet.  Sweat broke out onto his upper lip as he engaged our prayer with a well-hidden hard on behind the pulpit.  Pastors who preach often have the most masturbation phone sex and they tend to sniff out the lustful cunts of the spiritually sick.  He knew.  I just knew he knew.
He shook my hand at his office door and sniffed the perfume exuding from well placed dots of my scent on my inner thighs and ankles.  He remarked about my calf muscles being so taut–the result of all the mileage I run to stave off perpetual desires for masturbation phone sex.  I sat across from him and crossed my legs allowing him to see the bare, shaven appendages’ descent to my very sexy feet.
We started to talk and I shared with him that my sex life at home had become so rote that I just couldn’t stop masturbating.  Masturbation stopped satisfying me even though I did forbidden phone sex things with religious articles and I felt like I needed to have an affair.
He kept staring at my feet.  And that is when I went for the jugglar:
“You think about us twisting up like Satan’s serpent don’t you, Pastor?  You stand behind the pulpit and your cock is hard as you pick the apple of the day from the congregation of feet that you behold.  The beautiful feet.   Look at my soles, Pastor.  Behold the tree of knowledge from which you should not eat, but you must.   Look at them!  You need them.  I need you.  Bow before them and serve the appropriate Goddess–walk with me in the garden of sin.”
He dropped to his knees and came to me with my leaking cunt exposed–no panties.  Who the fuck wears NO panties to a meeting with a pastor?
Someone like me–someone addicted to masturbation phone sex as much as you are.

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