Heaven in Your Lips
You couldn't help but press your thighs together as everyone around you responded with "amen" as his voice was as stern as when he told you to give him your all. With eyes never leaving him, time passed by with homily spilling from his lips-oh those sinfully full lips that felt like soft clouds against yours that whispered promises of eternal salvation on his tongue. His hands raised up to the heavens, he uttered,
"You are indeed holy, oh lord. The founder of all holiness" lies right in front of his God, for you both know the holiness was between you and him, created by the sin of lust into something pure and almost deserving of salvation for your damned souls.
Finally, the moment you have been waiting for has arrived. The passing of the holy bread has arrived as, one by one, the patrons of the chapel filed in single lines as they received it from him until he went to the first row to personally attend to the loyal patriots seated in your seat. A burn of anticipation flowed in your veins as you waited on your knees, fingers interlocked as your elbows rested on the oak prayer bench. As Father Johnny approached you with the body of Christ in his hand, you slowly look up at him, replaying a scene so familiarly engraved in both your minds as he presses the circular sacramental bread into your lips, your tongue lightly touching his fingers as his gaze met yours, the taste of the bread paling in comparison to his, making his fingers twitch, wanting to be inside your warm mouth again maybe? You wondered if the fire in his loins had also burned as memories of the many times you were on your knees for him raced through your wicked mind-so sacrilegious and outright blasphemy. If only the people around you knew the meaning behind the shy flutter of your eye lashes as he moved on to the man beside you, how could you forget this man? After all, this was the man who bound you to himself only to leave you lonely in the night-your stupid, stupid, pretty husband.
Your moron of a husband who let your nights grow so cold you had to search for warmth in the house of the lord, specifically, his messenger's. As he moved down the seats, keeping up the façade of a stern man of the church, the mass continued as it does every Sunday, until your husband thought it would have been a good idea to suddenly showcase your love in front of many when the homily mentioned the unity of a man and a woman, as he pecked the back of your palm and the side of your head, leaving a trace of disgust in their path as shivers rose from your skin. It feels wrong. You can feel the teasing stares of the grey-haired audience in your row and the icy stare of Father Johnny as he tries to hastily end the mass, leaving without greeting anybody. As the crowd decreased and exited the building, a nun came forward to you with a wide smile.
"Mrs. Park and Mr. Park! It's me, Sister Agatha. Oh, it's so splendid to see you both again. Your perfect attendance has truly touched our parish "she said.
Your husband, Sunghoon Park, said to her, "Oh sister, we are delighted to always hear Father Johnny's homily. The lord has chosen a wise young man to spread his word to us"
"Oh yes, he indeed has. I won't waste any more of your time, young couple, and specifically ask you, Mrs. Park, if you could read a verse for us in our prayer meeting this Saturday for the wayward women's program" Her eyes were peering at you as she awaited your reply.
"She would love to, sister! It would be an honor, even though I will not be present this Saturday" he answered for you. It was his annoying habit that never failed to make your already forced smile more and more forced.
"Alright, I will be expecting you. Thank you again, Mr. Park, for the donations you've given this church! " Before leaving you both, she blessed you both.
The air was tense on the drive home. Sunghoon, in all his glory, couldn't understand the reason behind your silence but didn't want to question it for fear of starting a quarrel between the two of you again. You barely made it up after the fiasco with his unwarranted jealousy of the priest of the parish you both frequent. You've reassured him numerous times that there was absolutely nothing he had to worry about, as you fired your own defense with the lipstick marks you left on his polo shirt after he went home drunk one time. Still feeling guilty for an incident he doesn't remember, he felt it was his way of letting you do what you seemed to love doing—serving the church.
"Would you read this verse for us?" On this fine sunny Saturday, Sister Agatha asked you to It has been six days since the invitation was given to you, and so far, you have not been able to sneak into your lover's arms because of the annoying clinginess of your husband. He was doing all sorts of tricks that week, driving you insane when he implied bringing children into the mix of your complicated marriage (you ended up crushing sleeping pills in his drink to escape him).
"Yes, sister" you said politely as you stood up and walked over to the lectern to read. "But I say unto you, that whosoever looks on a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery with her in his heart." Sharing an innocent glance with Father Johnny, he nodded at you as if to agree.
You could see the eyes of the women in the crowd who they labeled as wayward when in reality they were only women who got caught fucking around in alleyways, bar comfort rooms, heck even the side of the church, and you knew it was all for a glimpse of the incredibly attractive man who is the head of the only parish in this area, especially since his deep voice reasoning in the homily makes it seem likeEven every time you take communion from him, you see how every wanton woman wishes it was his body they were taking-something you know that is solemnly reserved only for you. It was funny how you both went from a housewife looking for help from a failing marriage and a priest giving guidance to a whore who kneels over a new God she worships. You can still remember the day you both met and crossed the line like it was yesterday.
It was yet another week of not seeing your husband as he burried himself in a pile of paperwork in the darkest part of the night. There was a doubt brewing in you. Was there really work he needed to do, or was he working on someone else? These thoughts prompted you to seek counsel from the nuns that you converse with after every service without your husband in attendance.
You should go and ask Father Johnny for guidance about this. "I heard he was a great marriage counselor in the city," said sister Agatha.
"Father Johnny? Do we have a new head of the parish? What happened to Father Jaehyun? " You were confused because this was the first time you'd heard of such a name.
Sister Agatha spoke with disgust in her words. Father Jaehyun was dismissed from his duties at the church after he was found to have coveted a woman and bore a son. "The parish has sent us Father Johnny as our permanent replacement. His astounding records, don't you worry, our parish will be returned to its glory. "Conviction was clear in her voice.
Oh father! Come meet Mrs. Park; she and her husband are our biggest contributors! " As she hollers out a name, a giant man comes walking-no, strutting-as he made his way to the both of you. As he went closer, the electricity traveled down your spine from his gorgeous face, and you briefly wondered if all parts of him seemed to be sculpted by God himself. If you have any questions, ask him, okay? He is a very nice lad! As the nun left you both alone, the tension became palpable in the air; unknown feelings arose inside both of you.
"Good evening, Mrs. Park. I'm Father Johnny Suh. It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. Why don't we continue this talk inside the parish office? "he offered. Somehow, you can see the hidden intention behind those dark brown eyes.
Oh father, I was actually supposed to ask you something. Please let us know. I need your help, Father, "you replied, waking up from the stupor he had put you under and unknowingly batting your eyelashes at him.
"I will help you to the best of my ability, Mrs." There was a darkness in his tone as he offered his hand to guide you to the office. You knew it was weird from the start because of the numerous priests you've met with your husband, not one has ever taken your hand and guided you gently somewhere. Truth be told, he was telling you the truth. From the way he consoled you as you cried to him about your marital problems, to the solutions he offered, he was ready to help to the best of his abilities, but somehow you found yourself on top of his freshly dried oak desk, skirt hiked up and hickeys forming on the base of your neck, cleavage, and everywhere while he kneels in between your legs. His tongue was inexperienced but his eagerness made up for it, like a man quenching his thirst after being left in the safari for a long time-he drank you in more and more as you dripped from his chin. Your mouth was stuffed with your white laced pants, the golden anklet your husband gave you dangling on his shoulders as he proceeded to suck you dry. With your moans muffled, he continued to devour you until you reached ecstasy, dark spots forming in your vision as he continued to lap your cum.
You smell like heaven, "he said as he walked through the room, cum dripping on his face as your scent wafted through the air.
"F-father, let me." You tried to sit up and give back the service he had blessed you with, but he wouldn't let you. Instead, he firmly pressed his erect bulge, covered by his black slacks, onto your naked pussy.
Before you know it, you're agreeing to be filled up by this newly assigned head of the parish. His cock stretched you deliciously in ways your own husband couldn't because he was bigger. Fuck, he was so much bigger than that man. He was so large that you could feel him in your womb, and when he moved, you went insane. Muffled moans, silent groans, and grunts filled the room as he tried to imprint his cock inside you. A primal need for you to feel him days after this intercourse filled him. It frightened him a bit because he had never encountered a woman that made him break his vows to God. He was a piteous and loyal man, but there he is, whispering a new prayer as he is swallowed whole by you. A new religion was founded that night with bodies worshipped and adoration made at your feet. He found a new servant, and you found your new God.
The affair has been on-going for about three months now, and it was the most blissful you have ever been. He was more than just a random itch that needed to be scratched. No, he was the love of your dainty mortal life. At first, after the whole sexcapade, you tried to avoid him after mass and going as far as not attending or going to another parish, which your husband had taken notice of, and you would reason with "I don't agree with the homily of the new preacher" or "I like that church better" until your husband had enough of one-hour drives and dragged you back to him-the man who embraced you with open arms as you came back to his office just like the father did to his wayward son. But during that time, he was more vigorous, confessing his longing for you, his love even.
"If you still want to continue like this, it will only be us. Vow to me there will be nobody else, just us." Those were his words to you that night as he moved back and forth with vigor, his hands finding your nape and holding it firmly. "Tell me you love me too. You must only love me too, yes little servant?" his voice dripping with desperation and anxiety as his thrust becomes as erratic as his breathing. After you bore your heart to him, singing his name like the Gloria filled with love to the man who brought you back to life,
"I'll always love you, my Lord. Even if my soul were to burn, I would do it again and again" and you would. You both would actually be, present in the note you found in your bible after the prayer meeting. You know that the goodbye letter and those packed bags in your trunk will come in handy someday.
"Escape with me, serve me until Satan himself drags us both down to the fiery pits of hell. Come with me and love me for eternity, my love. "
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