Sin of Onan

With the Deaconess, I practiced coitus interruptus. (Her upbringing convinced her that evolution was untrue, Harry Potter contained satanic influences, and that Good Christian Girls shouldn’t be on birth control.) Once, as I was pounding her from behind, I approached orgasm and pulled out, ejaculating on one of her cute ass cheeks. (I had to strain to avoid staining her blue skirt.) As my cum glistened on her butt, I thought of Onan.

So whenever [Onan] went in to his brother’s wife he would waste the semen on the ground…. And what he did was wicked in the sight of the LORD, and he put him to death (Gen 38:9-10).

Onan’s story isn’t one you’ll see in Sunday school class enacted on flannel boards.

The Hebrew term ra’ (“evil”) is employed to describe Onan’s act. Scriptural interpretation of the passage has historically focused on the wasting of seed. Luther condemned the act as “unchastity, yes a sodomitic sin.” Calvin considered it murder: “The purposeful spilling of semen outside of intercourse between man and woman is a monstrous thing…. For this is to extinguish the hope of the human family and to kill before he is born the hoped-for offspring.” The text was used to condemn any form of birth control. “Onanism” came to describe the sin of masturbation. The consensus of modern biblical scholars is that Onan’s sin was his refusal to fulfill the levirite obligation.

With the Deaconess, I deposited my semen on her ass and her back, on her stomach and her dainty breasts. It somehow felt more sinful than ejaculating into a condom or her vagina. Raised in a tradition that still emphasized the procreative purpose of sex, Onan’s punishment weighed heavily on me. But not enough to stop fucking the Deaconess.

Ending the Year with a Bang

“The door is unlocked.”

I walked up to her incall apartment in the dark December chill. Upon entering, she greeted me in a short, silky robe. My eyes surreptitiously glanced at her toned legs. We chatted for a while, catching up since my last visit. (She informed me that my areas of academic research weren’t scandalous enough.) She had been reading some fiction featuring kinky sex demons. The ice in the glasses of water she had set out had melted by the time she suggested we head to the bedroom. I followed her, admiring her swaying derrière.

She put on some sensual music in the dimly lit bedroom. At the foot of the bed, she pressed my body against hers, moaning when she felt my erection. Her robe came off, revealing her babydoll lingerie in cheerful Christmas red. As she unbuttoned my shirt, she made the observation that I need more “chaos” in my life. (As if my insatiable pursuit of sex isn’t disruptive enough.) I pulled down the straps of her lingerie; her perky breasts appeared. My hands reached under her babydoll and slowly pulled down her panties. Her nightie fell to the floor. I kissed her neck, then my mouth moved down to her breasts and her very responsive nipples. Her moans grew more intense. She guided me onto the bed and crawled between my legs. She kissed my thigh, then started to gently nibble on my balls. She then took my engorged cock into her warm, wet mouth. I caressed her soft auburn hair as she started sliding her mouth up and down my cock.

She reached for a condom, and after a bit of difficulty opening the wrapper, slid the condom on with her mouth. She climbed on top of me, my hands on her hips as she slipped me inside her. The bed creaked as she rode me, my hands playing with her tits as she bounced on me. Her girlish moans heightened my arousal.

“Oh, yeah….”

We fucked in a frenzy. She rocked her hips faster and faster. I could feel her clench around me. Then my cock erupted with some fireworks of its own.

“The unbuckling of the Bible Belt”

The New York Times recently reported on a spate of scandals to have hit Dallas-area churches. A nationally-known evangelical pastor stepped away from the pulpit at his megachurch upon admitting to an unspecified “sin.” An associate pastor at another church was dismissed for “moral failure.” The head pastor of a congregation of 5,000 resigned due to “inappropriate” actions.

The subtext to all these indiscretions is sex.

“It’s like the unbuckling of the Bible Belt,” one local pastor told the Times.

“There’s no clear pattern to the scandals, which range widely,” the article reports. “The churches are all Protestant but belong to different denominations — or none at all — and have different theological beliefs and worship styles.”

Sexual indiscretion is an ecumenical matter. A spry escort (and convert to Catholicism) I visited in Manhattan claimed to have bedded priests serving at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. (“They’re just guys,” she told me.) Erasmus complained at the time of the Reformation, “[T]here is a horde of priests among whom chastity is rare.” Nor were the priests in ancient Israel averse to fleshly delights: “[Eli] kept hearing all that his sons were doing to all Israel, and how they lay with the women who were serving at the entrance to the tent of meeting” (1 Sam 2:22).

As one whose belt has been unbuckled in preparation for conduct unbecoming of a minister in the church, I cannot avoid comment on this. In Tim Alberta’s book The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism, it was reported that the stress of having to navigate congregational political tensions in the age of Trump have driven more than one pastor into adultery. But there’s more to it than that.

Ministers can make for tempting targets. One pastor’s wife, who admits to having sinned sexually with ministers in the church, confesses to enjoying the “wickedness” of getting “into a pastor’s pants” and fucking a putative “saint” on the communion table.

Looking back, a strong impetus to enrolling in divinity school and entering into ministry was my desperation to control my lust. I tried to compensate for my sexual guilt through my religious activities. The church proved to be no sanctuary from lust. My sins only grew darker. In The Scarlet Letter, Rev. Dimmesdale laments, “I have laughed, in bitterness and agony of heart, at the contrast between what I seem and what I am! And Satan laughs at it!” The fissure between who he is expected to be and who he is generates excruciating doubt. “What can a ruined soul like mine, effect the redemption of other souls?-or a polluted soul towards their purification?”

“As the man thinketh in his heart, so he is” (Prov 23:7). Upon first laying eyes on “Rachel,” an astonishingly pretty divinity student with long brown hair and pale skin, my first thought was, I wonder what she tastes like. I had succumbed to the “lusts of the flesh and the eyes” (1 Jn 2:16). As I proved incapable of metanoia, my personality splintered. So I compartmentalized my academic pursuits and ministry from my sex life, although the lines were blurry. (On more than one occasion, minutes after wrapping up a Bible study I was banging the Deaconess.) According to my synod, my failure as a rostered minister “to lead a chaste and decent life in word and deed” as evidenced by my many promiscuities makes me guilty of sexual misconduct. Still, my teaching and pastoral activities have coexisted with my sexual promiscuity.

“Let’s make a baby”

A quiet night at “Ingrid’s” townhouse. She works as an editor at a Christian book publisher. A mutual acquaintance had introduced us, and we had gone out on a few dates. Our personalities didn’t exactly mesh, but her fulsome bosom and plump ass kept me intrigued.

Over the course of this evening, she had consumed nearly an entire bottle of Pinot noir, so she was tipsy. And horny. Her gray sweater had been discarded onto the floor. My hand was inside her thin blouse. The alcohol on her breath had not inhibited my tongue from exploring her mouth. A moan came out of her mouth. And words that were entirely unexpected:

“Let’s make a baby.”

I had consumed a couple of glasses myself, so I thought I may have misheard her. But as I grabbed her breast, the words I heard again were unmistakable:

“Let’s make a baby.”

Our previous sexual encounters had culminated in oral sex. Like many evangelical girls of her generation, anything short of intercourse somehow didn’t count as real “sex.” (Hence the expression “technical virgin.”) When I discovered her neatly trimmed bush and the rhythms of her hips as I proceeded to go down on her, I surmised she wasn’t unacquainted with cunnilingus. (Her blowjob skills revealed that she also wasn’t unacquainted with the male anatomy.) She also wasn’t averse to me ejaculating on her tits. But we had refrained from penetration.

We stumbled into her bedroom and stripped naked. I admit that the possibility of impregnating her heightened my arousal. Imagine the scandal: “good” Christian girl knocked up by a minister and scholar in the church, her bulging belly revealing the consummation of our fornication.

Ingrid frequently referred to her nieces and nephews, so children were on her mind. Perhaps she was at the peak of ovulation. Horny. Aching. Wet. In that moment of inebriation and passion, her instinct was loosed.

Can't help myself, hormonеs are high
Give me more than just some butterflies

In vino veritas, as Pliny the Elder wrote.

I'm so fuckin' horny

She lay on her back and spread her legs, as a woman was designed to do. I moved on top of her and prepared to penetrate her. I pushed the head of my bare cock inside her.

Since they are supposed to abstain from “sex,” good evangelical girls (as I discovered with the Deaconess) also aren’t on birth control. Even though these “good” girls end up having sex.

Gregory of Nyssa wrote that, had it not been for the Fall, human reproduction would somehow have been by means other than sexual intercourse, not “that animal and irrational method by which they now succeed one another.” “It was the woman who, yielding to deception, fell into sin” (1 Tim 2:14).

Men are animals, and none of their functions is more deeply rooted in their animal nature than is that of sexual reproduction.
Roger Scruton, Sexual Desire

I felt her legs wrap around my waist. Our sex was primal. We were animals fulfilling our biological destinies. Her feral sexuality expressed itself.

Mark your territory

“Come deep inside me!“

One of me is cute, but two though?
Give it to me, baby

Perhaps she subconsciously heeded the admonition of the Apostle: “But salvation for the woman will be in the bearing of children” (1 Tim 2:15)

“Make me a mommy!“

The primordial commandment to “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen 1:28) was about to be fulfilled in Ingrid’s womb. My throbbing cock erupted, expelling my seed unimpeded inside her. It was one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had.

It didn’t take me long to get hard again. I positioned her on her hands and knees and fucked her from behind, coming inside her again. Shortly thereafter, she collapsed on her bed and passed out.

We woke up naked in her bed the next morning. She had a hangover. And regrets. I went to the pharmacy and got her the morning-after pill. And a box of condoms for our future sexscapades.

“Saintly in every way except when it came to women”

It’s been awhile….

During the considerable interlude since I last updated this blog, I’ve been occupied with teaching and ministry. It’s been a blur of papers and Bible studies, classes and programs. Lent and Holy Week came and went. Christmas arrived sooner than expected. Then there was another Lent and Holy Week. Progress on my dissertation remains halting. The start of another academic year means the arrival on campus of ripe flesh – coeds in sundresses, short skirts, and skimpy tank tops.

And amidst everything, I’ve chastely dated one young lady, fucked another young woman from the church, discreetly met with a self-described “good Christian wife” for adulterous sex, pursued hookups with a variety of women, while continuing to visit escorts.

It’s been busy.

Its abbot was a monk who was saintly in every way except when it came to women – and he managed those affairs so cunningly that almost no one knew about them, or even suspected anything.
Decameron, Third Day – Novel VIII

I’m painfully conscious of how often I fall short in my ministry. A word left unspoken. An initiative unfulfilled. A “ministry of presence” seems hollow. Parishioners tend to place those in ministry on a pedestal, expecting sinlessness. “But I am carnal” (Rom 7:14).

There was a young monk whose youthful vigour no fasts or vigils had been able to mortify…. As soon as he saw her, he was seized with carnal desire…. He, overcome by passion, was frisking with her rather incautiously….
Decameron, First Day – Novel IV

To be constantly tempted with this fruit, so luscious yet so forbidden, is excruciating. Yet as journalist Julia Keller observes, “Sex and subterfuge make a delicious cocktail.” Guilt is leaven by the possibilities of erotic delight.

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves.
1 John 1:18

A new parishioner. She’s in her late forties with long chestnut hair. Despite her fresh-faced, girl-next-door appearance, her hourglass curves reveal her erotic potential. I haven’t spoken to her, but I can taste her and smell her and feel her. I can already imagine the noises she makes when she comes.

She’s the edge between the sacred and profane
And means at least one other language you would never speak in polite company
Rainbow Kitten Surprise, “Polite Company”

Scent of Sex

“I’ve always been a sinful girl.”

She smiled coyly. She said a burlesque teacher taught her the distinction between flirtation and seduction. My donation sat in an envelope tucked into a collection of erotic poetry on the nightstand. Soft music filled the room. My hands slowly slid the straps of her bra off her shoulders. Her round breasts appeared in the dim light.

“Vivian” had just relocated from the East Coast to the Midwest, but was visiting the area. She’s tall, with green eyes and pixieish, chocolate brown hair. (She vaguely resembles Rachel McAdams.) By day she’s a technical writer. At night others have no idea what she’s up to.

“Audrey in the streets, Marilyn in the sheets,” she teased.

I moved to slide down her panties (they were over her garter belt). My hand grazed her trimmed bush. She reclined on the bed and slowly parted her legs. I climbed atop her and pushed myself inside her. I felt her legs wrap around me. Long, slow thrusts. I felt her hard nipples against my chest. I intensified my thrusts. She whimpered and moaned. I slammed myself into her cunt again and again, my thrusts accompanied by deep grunts. She gasped.

Fuck.

“Come for me,” she moaned from beneath me.

I thrust one last time as my body convulsed and I emptied himself.

“Our puritanical culture does little for the libido,” she continued as we talked in bed afterward. She lamented the repressive influence of Christian society on Western art as it distanced itself from the erotic-mythic traditions of pagan religions. She practices Reiki and is obsessed with astrology. (She offered to do a tarot reading.)

“We all need a release,” she said. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

I caressed her body during our conversation. Eventually my hand found its way to her ass.

The conversation was halted.

I kissed my way down her neck to her soft breasts and hard nipples. She moved down my body. Her bright red lips festooned with lipstick wrapped themselves around my member. She pleasured me with her mouth, softly and sensuously at first, then more vigorously. On went a condom, and she moved on top of me, parting her thighs once more. (She was still wearing her garter belt and stockings.) She gripped the shaft of my cock and guided me back inside her. She moved slowly at first, hands pressed on my chest. I squeezed her tits. She then rode me aggressively, hard and fast. The mattress was squeaking.

Yes, yes…..

My balls tightened. My hips violently thrust up from the mattress, then my body spasmed once more.

As she dismounted and went to retrieve a washcloth from the bathroom, I noticed the faint scent of sex. After cleaning me up, we chatted for a few minutes. Not wanting to overstay, I then moved to get dressed. She helped me put my coat on, then escorted me to the door.

“Until we meet again, dear.…”

I carried her scent with me as I departed.

“God’s gift to men”

After an extended absence, Audrey returned for a visit. She remembered me when I contacted her (“You’re the grad student, right?”), so setting up an appointment at her downtown hotel was simple. She asked me to bring a bottle of Moscato. When the appointed time came, I knocked on her door to her suite. The door slowly opened, and a soft, sexy voice beckoned me to come in. When I came in, Audrey met me wearing a silk black robe, black fishnet stockings, and black high heels. A pearl necklace dangled from her neck. She invited me into the room, which was a bit messy. I discreetly placed the donation on the desk.

We proceeded to sit on the edge of the bed and lightly converse for a few minutes. Chopin played on her digital music player. We shared a glass of wine. She put her hand on my leg.

“I have been told that I’m God’s gift to men,” she purred.

I admired her shapely legs, and I was eager to have her show me more. She must have intuited what I was thinking, for she got up and started posing for me in front of the window, slowly removing her robe, revealing her black lace bra, black panties, and black garter belt. She proceeded to remove her bra and moved back toward me. Her black hair contrasted with her porcelain skin. She got down on her knees and started kissing my cock through my pants. Then she unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants. Her hands reached into my boxers and caressed my cock and balls. My underwear came off. She reached for some lube, then started to stroke my cock. As she started kissing and sucking on my cock, I ran my fingers through her silky black hair. She’s quite talented with her mouth; it took some effort on my part not to erupt.

She asked if we could move to the bed. All that preoccupies me in ministry and academia faded away when I looked down on Audrey’s naked body twisting slightly in the sheets of a bed in a Sheraton Hotel.

“I’m very horny,” she said, adding that she had a vibrator. She pulled off her panties and reached for her vibrator on the nightstand. I watched as she inserted the device and pleasured herself for a few minutes.

“I want you to go down on me.”

I kissed my way across her perky breasts, down her stomach, down her inner thigh before my mouth reached her shaved mons pubis. Her legs wrapped around my head as my tongue explored her wet pussy. She moaned.

“Oh, Philip, I want you inside me.”

She wanted me on top. (“I don’t even need lube,” she said.) Her legs were positioned on my shoulders as I penetrated her. She kept pulling me closer as I fucked her. I could feel her muscles squeeze around my cock.

“Don’t stop!”

I fucked her more aggressively. Then she surprised me.

“I want to watch you come!”

She had me pull out of her and tore off the condom. She stroked my cock; I couldn’t hold out any longer – I erupted on her stomach and tits (some of my cum even landed one her neck). She caressed my dripping cock, then rubbed my cum onto her skin as she licked her lips.

I collapsed next to her onto the bed.

After our exertions, we sat in bed and talked. I noticed a Bible on the table. It wasn’t there courtesy of the Gideons. It was hers. She previously hadn’t brought it up, but suddenly she was very much into talking about religion. Even now, I still find it a strange transition to converse on religious matters with a prostitute, but I informed her on the distinctions between the canonical and the gnostic gospels as well as theories of secularization. Then she asked a question.

“Do you want to go again?”

Sexquisite

“Tell me, what do you like?”

“Diana’s” Teutonic accent made the request even more erotic. As she helped me out of my clothes, my cock was already aching. So I told her what I liked.

Then she was on her knees.

My arousal has been heightened this season, so I carved out some time from the holiday business to visit this tall, mature European lady at her hotel room. She was visiting for a few days. Our conversation prior to her inquiry was pleasant if brief. She comes from a well-educated family (her father was a professor of physics; her mother was a school principal). She had wanted to see the world, so when she was younger she supported herself by stripping. She then took my hand and led the way to the edge of the bed. She removed her red bra and displayed her sizable augmented breasts.

I felt her hands stroke my cock. Then, as she looked up at me with her green eyes, I watched as it disappeared between her glossy lips.

Sexquisite.

My fingers ran through her silky blond hair before I placed the palm of my hand on the back of her head. I gently guided her efforts.

We moved onto the bed. I lay on my back and, after the condom was applied, she straddled me. As she rode me cowgirl, she presented me once again with a view of her round tits. She relentlessly fucked me, her body gyrating on top of mine. But I wanted more. She acceded to my request, and I bent her over the bed. I admired the curvature of her back and waist and the roundness of her ass. Then I fucked her hard, grasping a handful of her hair with my left hand. I went at it for quite a while, until my body shuddered, and I gasped.

After we dismounted and cleaned up, we spoke a little more. She originally came to the U.S. on a student visa to study marketing. She mentioned that escorting is more lucrative in America than in Europe. She said she was preparing to tour the Carolinas before Christmas. Before we knew it, our hour was nearing its end. Her lingerie came back on. I dressed. She escorted me to the door of her hotel room.

“Take care, darling.”

Blessed with Physical Attributes

“Are you a boob or butt man?”

I confessed to her as we sat on the bed that I had a deep admiration for both a woman’s chest and her posterior. “Emma” was certainly blessed with both physical attributes. Meanwhile I couldn’t help but notice her breasts as revealed through her lacy lingerie.

I noticed Emma on social media. Her girl next door vibe (plus her appealing tits and ass) was alluring enough for me to book an appointment with her when she visited from the metropolis.

On the afternoon of our date, I spotted a tall, curvy redhead wearing a short red dress in the lobby. I greeted her there since the hotel required a room key to get to her floor. We accompanied one another to her room, where she hopped on the bed. I sat next to her, and we started to get to know each other. A lingering trace of a southern accent betrayed her origins. She did most of the talking, much of it about her “civilian” job. (She fantasized about having sex with a client on the desk in her office.) She showed me a sexy Advent calendar she just purchased. Meanwhile she lightly caressed my arm and thigh, putting her head on my shoulder. She kissed me, lightly at first, then more deeply.

I excused myself to take a shower and left the donation just outside the bathroom. When I returned from the bathroom, she was sprawled across the bed in a sexy black bodysuit with a seductive smile on her face. Despite her overt eroticism, she managed to maintain a certain semblance of innocence. (She vaguely reminded me of a girl in college I lusted over.) I made my way over to her, draped only in a towel. She leaned toward me and nibbled my ear as she ran her fingers across my chest. She started rubbing my cock through the towel. I was rock hard at this point. My hands caressed her breasts through her lingerie. She unwrapped the towel and started to slowly stroke me. We started kissing. She moved down and sensually took me into her mouth. I felt her tongue flick around the head of my cock.

Not wanting to climax too quickly, I ask her to disengage. I worked my way down her body, positioning my face between her legs. She was wet. She moaned that she loved her taste on my mouth.

She slipped on a condom. She moved on top for cowgirl, pressing her fingers in my chest as she rode me. She leaned her body into mine, nibbling on my ear. I sucked on her nipples. I asked her to get on her hands and knees. She grabbed a vibrator from her bag before presenting her ass in the air. I moved behind her. She guided my cock inside her, then positioned the vibrator to stimulate her clit. The sensations for us both were intense, and we climaxed within minutes.

Afterward we lay in bed, still breathing heavily. Wrapping her naked body around me, she chatted about what she had been watching on Netflix lately. After awhile she reached over and started stroking my cock again. My cock responded, and she once more took me in her mouth. Again her blowjob was intense, her head bobbing up and down as she pleasured my cock. Nothing could prevent me from erupting in her mouth. She swallowed.

We snuggled in bed for a few more minutes. She talked about her education at an Ivy League school (she confessed to spending much of her time on campus hooking up) until it was time to wash up and get dressed. As I departed, she invited me to visit her when she returns to her city. I’ll consider it.

“You sound sad”

Time and chance have made available a number of ladies visiting the area early this holiday season. As the academic semester winds down, I feel overwhelmed by an endless array of responsibilities: bringing the classes I’m teaching to a satisfactory conclusion; refining my dissertation; managing the many Christmas-related events at the parish. Amidst the stress, I sought a diversion. My date was with Lara, a mature brunette I had visited last year. She kindly arranged an encounter early in the evening, after I had prepared for the next Peace and Justice Committee meeting.

I arrived at her hotel at the appointed time and texted her. She provided the room number with directions on how to get to the elevator. I softly knocked on the door. She answered the door wearing a short, lacy red robe and black Louboutin heels, greeting me with a warm hug and soft kiss. I discreetly placed a white envelope containing the donation on the dresser. We sat on the couch and got reacquainted. Soft erotic music filled the dimly lit room. She had poured a bottle of wine into two glasses. She gently rubbed my thigh as we conversed, giggling at my dry wit. Caressing my chest, she leaned in and kissed me. By now she was rubbing my hard cock through my pants. My hands ran across the fabric of her silk robe before I moved to untie it. She wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath. I beheld her full milky white tits, kissing them and sucking on her succulent nipples. Soon she had my pants off. She quickly removed my boxer briefs and started stroking my cock. She said she wanted to taste me. She got on her knees and started to softly suck on my balls, then licking up my shaft before taking me into her mouth. She gazed up at me as her lips moved up and down my cock.

We moved to the bed. Still wearing her heels, she lay back and spread her legs. I accepted her invitation.

I inhaled her feminine scent. I flicked my tongue inside the lips of her pussy. Her hips gently gyrated as soft moans escaped her lips.

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

I told her I wanted to be inside of her. She applied a condom and some lube. She reclined on the bed as I moved on top of her. I felt her grab my ass after I penetrated her. Gentle pumping accelerated into harder thrusts. The sounds of our grunts and moans echoed around the room. Then she moved on top of me and straddled my hips, my cock again slowly disappearing inside her. She leaned forward and started to slowly ride me, her body sliding up and down. Grabbing her waist, I watched her beautiful tits bounce. I thrust my hips off the bed, seeking to drive myself deeper inside her. She rode me harder, bracing her hands on my chest. My body quivered, and I exclaimed my orgasm.

She retrieved a warm cloth to clean me up. We talked some more, mostly about our plans for the holidays. She noticed a certain tone to my voice: “You sound sad.” A postcoital melancholy had set in. We lay still in bed for a while, quietly, before our allotted time was about to expire. We arose from the bed to dress. Again clothed, we wished each other a merry Christmas. She planted a soft kiss on my lips before I headed out the door.