Going To Church - Sex Stories

Going To Church

Last week, a family friend passed away in New York. Her name was Eleanor; she was ninety-six years old. She and her late husband were lifelong friends with my parents. I knew them as Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Harry. She was a fine woman, a devout Catholic who never missed a Sunday mass.

I wanted to pay my respects in person and decided to travel to New York for the church service and funeral. I booked an early morning flight, reserved a hotel room, and rented a car. The next morning, I was on my way. The services were the day after. I wasn’t thrilled about traveling to upstate New York in the middle of the winter, but it was the right thing to do.

My first order of business was to pick up my car at the Hertz counter and then check in at the Hilton Garden Inn near the airport. Check.

Second, I hadn’t had anything to eat all day; I needed to find a place for lunch. Easily resolved, I didn’t have to get back in the car. I walked to the Elmwood Inn right around the corner. They had a decent menu; the food was good, and the service was spot on. Check.

Third, I needed to find a Catholic church. Because Eleanor was a God-fearing woman, I felt it only right to have a mass said in her honor. I wanted to arrange this for her family. A church was an easy find not far from the hotel. Check.

This is where my unexpected adventure began. I found the church office and expected to be in and out fairly quickly. When I walked in, the building seemed to be deserted. I waited a few ...

... minutes, but still, no one was in sight.

I called out, “Hello!”

Finally, a woman appeared. “Hello. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. May I help you?”

It was hot in the office. I removed the leather jacket I was wearing over my dress.

“Yes. I’m in town for a funeral, and I would like a mass card and schedule a service.”

She was wearing dress pants and a loose-fitting print blouse. Something about this woman was alluring to me. I don’t know why. She wasn’t beautiful; she was quite plain. She wasn’t wearing make-up. Around her neck was a thin leather string with a wood crucifix as a necklace, and her hair was in a bun on top of her head. I think it made her look much older than she was.

Not a word was spoken between us as she leaned into her desk for the card. Her blouse fell forward. She wasn’t wearing a bra, giving me a perfect view of her perky little tits. This always happens to me. Now, all I wanted to do was touch her. In a different setting, I might have responded, but we were in a church. I am not a religious person, but I do have some respect.

She wrote down some information about Eleanor and set a date for a mass on the church calendar. “We ask for a small donation for our mass cards.”

I said, “Of course. Will fifty dollars cover it?”

She casually unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse as she answered me. “Oh, absolutely, that is very generous. God bless you for your generosity.”

It was arousing. I opened my purse and pulled out ...