Pastor's Daughter

By Luscious Laralee ( JULY 99)

I'm the pastor's daughter.
No, not the pastor you're thinking of.
He's the Minister at Protestant ceremonies, right?
The straight-laced, right-wing, Christian Coalition old stuffy man?
Nope. Wrong Pastor. You see, "the pastor" is my mother, not my father÷ he's a businessman, always away on trips.
My mom is a Catholic youth pastor at our parish. It's only a part-time, so she always had lots of time to spend with my brother and I when we were still young.
Basically, she's the perfect mom.
My friends have always loved her because she's really in touch with our generation (as a youth pastor, she has to be!), and she's always been there for me, you know? But sometimes she can be there a little too much, you know?
Like when I was sixteen, and I discovered a side of my mother that I never even guessed existed . . .

It was on a Friday afternoon and my Mom had to go to a meeting in a city two hours away from our town.
Since my Dad was in Chicago or something and Mom would be at this meeting all afternoon, and because my brother Michael was going to be home as soon as he got home from basketball practice, my boyfriend Patrick and I decided to ditch school, get a hold of some dope and spend the afternoon in the house by ourselves, getting high and horny.
I had a test in my first period class, so I told Patrick to go home and get the bed and the bong warm for me as soon as he met up with me in the school parking lot before classes even started.
I said I'd join him as soon as I got out of class.
He nodded and I watched his cute little ass wiggle as he jogged back to his car.
Then I went and aced that test, slipped back into the parking lot by feigning illness with the hall monitors, and headed back home.
I was so pumped up by the thought of having sex with Patrick in my own bed instead of in the backseat of his Mustang that I ended up slipping my hand into my pants and massaging myself outside my panties as I drove one-handed, and thanked God I was driving an automatic transmission.
The drive home was quick, and I was super-glad to see Patrick's magical Mustang parked out front of the house.
I fished the garage door opener out of my glove compartment and got ready to hide my VW in Mom's regular spot.
I was horrified when I opened the garage door and saw that her Saturn was still in there.
"Oh shit," I thought. "Me and Patrick are going to have some explaining to do."
I knew I couldn't run, because she would have heard the garage door open, but I just knew I was going to get so busted for skipping out on school.

I walked into the living room, shaking, but to my surprise, Mom wasn't there waiting to bust me.
I heard a strange noise coming from the vicinity of my bedroom, so I went to investigate.
The noise sounded kind of like a low moan, so my first thought was that Mom had flipped her lid and was beating Patrick like a Catholic Schoolmarm would if she caught some young rascal smoking weed in the boy's room.
"Hello?" I ventured as I started down the hallway.
I heard muffled whispers, then that low moan again, but this time accompanied by the frantically gasping words, "Don't . . . Stop . . ."

Okay, I thought I knew now what the sound was÷ Patrick, looking at porn on my computer and stroking off.
But where was my Mom, and how come she hadn't found Patrick in there committing nearly every sin imaginable?

I opened the door to my room and nearly wet my pants when I saw what I saw.
With her back and bare ass to me, my Mom didn't even notice me walking in.
She was thoroughly absorbed in,
1) the lesbian porn she looked at on my laptop,
2) the joint she smoked lying on my bed,
and 3) the attention she was getting from my boyfriend.

Patrick was standing at the foot of my bed, his moist face glistening with the proof of his guilt, his pants bulging with the evidence of his arousal, and my Mom spread eagle in front of him, her dripping pussy the evidence of her compliance.
The instant contact high I got from the smoke-filled room added to the complete shock I was suffering from by confronting this scene, and I couldn't speak for a full minute.
During that minute Patrick just stared at me, completely embarrassed at getting caught, and completely afraid that he and I would be finished for good.
Our silent staring contest was interrupted by Mom, who took a hit and wondered aloud why her little Patty had stopped licking his favorite ice cream cone.
"Mom!" I shouted, disgusted, and she turned around like lightning.

"Lara!" She gasped, yanking her skirt down to cover her wet, naked crotch.
"I forgot my purse, so I came back to get it, and Patrick was here, so I . . . and we . . ."

"We didn't plan it, I swear!" Patrick finally blurted.

My mom regained her composure and pulled herself up to sit on the side of the bed.
"Patrick, will you please excuse us? My daughter and I need to talk."

Patrick still had the look of a deer in headlights, despite the visible outline of his still very excited cock.
"Where should I . . . ?"

"Go wash your face, Pat," I said to him.
He walked out, shutting the door behind him.
"I think I'm gonna need a hit of that joint, Mom." I said woefully.
She passed it over and I took an enormous hit.
I was still stunned.
I thought things couldn't get any weirder, but they did!

"Lara, I need to ask you a favor," She said.

I cringed. "Okay, Mom, I swear I'll never skip school to smoke out with Patrick again."

She looked confused for a minute.
"No, sweetie. The one who should be apologizing is me.
I'm sorry that I used your boyfriend without your consent."

"Did he consent?" I asked.

She nodded.
"Oh, of course! In fact, the way I found Patrick when I walked in, he was sniffing my panties and stroking himself in my bedroom.
He looked so scared, but I told him he wouldn't be in trouble if he shared some of the shit he was smoking. I could smell it as soon as I walked into the house.
He consented to that, and after I smoked a couple hits and had a look at some of Patty's favorite porn sites, he consented to even more, which is the point where you walked in."

"Yeah, yeah," I said, sill wishing I hadn't walked in.
"What was that favor you wanted to ask?"

"I wondered if you would agree to let Patrick fuck me."

My jaw must've hit the floor.
Not only was this the first time I had ever heard my mother say "fuck," it was the last situation I ever expected her to be saying it in.
"I don't believe it." I muttered. "You're a pastor!" I said to her.

"Yes, I know, but I have urges too, ya know." She said.
"And it's not like your father's ever here to take care of them.
And Patrick is eighteen, Lara, so legally, he's better off fucking me than your sixteen year old ass."

I was speechless again.
"Look, I'll tell you what," Mom said. "I'll write a note to the school saying you were sick today, and I'll raise your allowance, and I'll buy that car stereo you've wanted for your bug."

"Well . . ." I said, and stopped to think on it for a moment.
All that stuff would be nice, and Patrick obviously did have some sort of a thing for my mother, but besides that, my Mom would owe me a debt of gratitude!
I pitied her, so lonely that the sight of my boyfriend masturbating was enough to ignite her passion this way.
"Okay," I consented, figuring I was doing them both a favor.
"I'll leave you two alone, but I get to take the pot."
When I stepped into the hallway, Patrick was pacing and looking very worried.
"My mom wants you to go in there," I told him.

"Oh man, is she going to kick my ass?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "She wants you to fuck her." I walked away then, into the kitchen to smoke my dope and have a snack and figure out what to make of the situation.
I took a couple of hits and started to relax.
I stopped thinking and just started to feel.
What I felt was a warmth in my pussy, and my fingers slowly caressing my crotch outside my jeans.
I suddenly had to know what they looked like together.
I wanted to see what my boyfriend looked like when he fucks.
I wanted to hear my Mom begging for what I had so much of that, sometimes, I had to turn it away.
I crept down the hallway and got really excited to see that my bedroom door was partially open.
I just kind of peeked at first, but it didn't take long for me to realize that I could have been standing there waving flares and they wouldn't notice.

Mom was once again on her hands and knees, facing away from me, and Patrick was standing behind her, pants still around his ankles and grunting as he thrust, he made my mom moan like a porn star.
I couldn't even help it.
My hand ended up in my panties this time, and I dragged my middle finger through my pussy juices before using it to rub my sensitive clit.
The pot was making me so horny.
I realized I just couldn't wait for Patrick to finish with my Mom so that I could feel his long, hard cock inside of me.
The more I rubbed myself and the more I saw and heard of my Mom and Patrick, I just couldn't wait.
I snuck back into my Mom's room and quietly opened her closet, knowing that it was where she keeps her stash of sex toys.
They were concealed in a hatbox, and I selected a nice, long vibrator that looked like it was about my boyfriend's length, only a little thicker than Pat's pecker.

I must've dropped my pants in the hall, because all I knew now was that I was naked from the waist down and thrusting three of my fingers in and out of my vagina in anticipation of the vibrator.
But first, I had to run back to the doorway to my bedroom, so I could watch Mom and Patrick some more.
Mom's moans had gotten more high-pitched and frantic and were bordering on screams.
Pat was still pumping furiously, like a machine, and Mom was bucking in front of him like a wild animal.
I plunged the vibrator into my sopping wet pussy and turned it on.
I used my right hand to give myself five good strokes while I rubbed my clit with the left, but it was all over as soon as I heard my mom scream, "I'm coming!" and Patrick let loose with that half-moan, half-growl he always shouts when he's coming inside me.
All of a sudden, my hand was soaked.
I pulled out the vibrator and it was dripping with my juices.
I looked up and mom was laying flat out on the bed, sighing contentedly.
Patrick was still standing there, cock in his hands, when he turned around and saw me standing there.

"How long have you been watching?" he asked.

"Long enough," I replied. I held the vibrator out towards him.
"You wanna lick this clean before I have to put it back in Mom's closet, where I found it?"

He just grinned, and I knew that it wasn't going to be the last time he and I came that day.