Season of Doubt

The instrumental introduction to Tori Amos’ Icicle features a setting of the hymn “O, for a Thousand Tongues to Sing.” It’s not what you would hear on a Sunday morning. It’s a discordant, haunting piano solo that prefaces a song about repressed sexual desire.

This is a season of doubt.

Progress on my dissertation has been halting. Parish ministry has been wearying as political polarization encroaches upon church life. “Spiritual dryness” inadequately describes my inner life. I’m parched.

I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy….
Crash Davis, Bull Durham

Faith is for me admittedly largely speculative. I, too, believe in the soul, but it’s a highly conceptualized, Platonic abstraction. A literary critic described Henry Miller as having developed a “theology of the cunt.” “What holds the world together, as I have learned from bitter experience,” Miller wrote in Tropic of Capricorn, “is sexual intercourse.” There is nothing abstract about the cock and the pussy.

Leaning against the wall, Stephanie wore a mischievous smile. And a slinky babydoll nightgown. “Religion says sex is so bad,” she teased as she unbuckled my belt.

My hand moved underneath her babydoll, caressing her soft skin. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Then I gently lowered one of the straps, revealing her lush breast and erect nipple. “But perhaps it is true after all,” I responded, quoting Buber. That was the most persuasive answer I could venture.

Formed as I was by purity culture, it’s hard to overemphasize how much my faith was inextricably connected with sexual purity as a young man. Believing that true love waits… Since holiness required reining in my sexual desires, a life of faith demanded purity. As other teenagers were losing their virginity in high school, I memorized 1 Thess 4:3-7. Overcoming fleshly desires was at the heart of my religious practice. When “Liz,” a cute blonde classmate at my Christian college, tearfully confessed to having had sex, I confess to feeling a certain pharisaical pride: “I thank you that I am not like other men” (Lk 18:11). Despite the encroaching temptations, I entered my senior year of college still a virgin. Then….

The moment I knew sin, I fucked.

I committed myself to a year of service at an urban Lutheran parish, then commenced my studies at divinity school. I entered lay ministry in the Lutheran church. As I continued to yield to the seductions of Venus, a dark shadow of doubt enveloped me. Thou shalt not commit adultery. The commandment remained unchanged. Yet Jezebel had seduced me into committing fornication (cf. Rev 2:20). When she flashed her panties in that hotel room, my faith was not strong enough to resist.

The commandment, as I have internalized it, stridently forbids me from the sexual activities I engage in. I’ve proved incapable of denying or sublimating my sexual urges, so I maintain a pious façade while secretly indulging my carnal desires. The cost to my faith, as I’ve experienced it, has been considerable. As one college pastor noted, for his students “the Bible unsurprisingly starts to become a lot more ‘doubtful’ for some of them once they’d had sex.”

I’m torn between devotion and desire. I find that I seek solace not between the covers of the Bible but between a woman’s legs.

But her hips sway a natural
Kind of faith that could give
Your lost heart a warm chapel
Tori Amos, “Abnormally Attracted to Sin”

She Said She’s a Nympho

I arranged to meet with “Eva” via email, a few weeks prior to her visit to a nearby city. When the day of our meeting arrived, I made the drive to her upscale hotel. I texted her upon my arrival. She met me at the elevator, and we went up to her room. She was attired in jeans and a small sweater that highlighted her ample breasts. Cute, perky, and in her 20s, she looked like the girl next door who has a secret to keep. After a few pleasantries, I placed the donation on a coffee table and excused myself to the bathroom to take a shower after the long drive.

When I returned to the bedroom, she had taken off her shirt and jeans and was waiting for me on the bed. We spent a few minutes getting to know each other before I began to make out with her on the bed. I kissed my way down her chest, stopping to suck on her nipples. My lips made their way down her stomach before I peeled off her panties and explored her pubic region. I discovered that she was already wet. I pulled her pussy lips apart and plunged my tongue deep inside her. Her wetness intensified.

She commented that she loves to deep throat. I asked her to kneel down, where she went down deep on my cock. She gagged some, her drool rolling down my balls. After several minutes of this, I was getting close. I begged her to let me come on her face.

“Please!” she responded. She looked up at me and stuck out her tongue.

I came on her face.

She went to the bathroom to clean up. By the time she returned, so had my arousal. She grabbed a condom. Then she lay back on the bed, legs spread wide. As I entered her, she placed her legs over my shoulders. I pounded her deeply for a while, then I told her to get on all fours on the bed. She described herself as submissive, which made me more aggressive. I slapped her ass, then thrust myself deep inside her from behind. Thrusting as deep as I could go, I pulled her hair. Then I exploded again.

We lay in bed for several minutes. I discovered that her dexterity could be attributed to her former training as a ballerina and her yoga practice. She had been a sugar baby before becoming an escort. And she said she’s a nympho.

I concurred.

Ass Wednesday

“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

I assisted with the imposition of ashes at the parish’s Ash Wednesday service. One of our more attractive parishioners has a curvy physique reminiscent of Joan Holloway on Mad Men.

After placing ashes on her forehead, I confess to watching her hips sway as she returned to the pew. For a brief moment, instead of concentrating on ministering to the body of Christ, all I could think was, “Christ, what a body!”

“Let’s do it”

The evangelical college I attended didn’t participate in Greek life, but the nearby public university did, and the sorority girls there stoked my lust. Perky and scantily clad, their uninhibited sexuality fascinated me.

I thought of them when I saw on social media that “Jenna” was visiting the region. Blonde and tan with curves in the right places, she resembled the ideal sorority girl I so badly wanted to fuck. I clicked on her website and filled out her booking form. Shortly after sending my contact information, I was confirmed for an appointment. The morning of our appointment, after she texted me the address of her incall, I made the drive to see her.

We met in the lobby of her high-end suburban hotel. She was discreetly dressed in a jacket and a long skirt. We entered the room and exchanged a hug. I excused myself and entered the bathroom, where I left my donation in a plain envelope next to the sink. When I came out, the jacket and skirt were discarded, and she was clad in only matching blue bra, panties, and garter belt with black stockings. She moved toward me and gave me another hug and a deep kiss. As her hand slipped down my stomach, she suggested a lap dance. (She said she used to be a dancer at an upscale Manhattan strip club.) She put on some sultry music as I settled into a chair. Her body started to gyrate. Her bra came off. Then she lowered herself onto my lap and started to grind into my crotch. Her 34 DD cup breasts were in my face; I buried my face in them, licking her large areolas and gently nibbling on her nipples. She moaned. She undid my pants, reached into my shorts, and began stroking my engorged cock. My boxer briefs came down. She lowered herself onto her knees, wrapped her breasts around my cock, and started titty fucking me. She then grabbed a condom, put it on me, then started to go down on me as she maintained eye contact. It was wet and sloppy; I felt her saliva trickle down my balls.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

She climbed on top of me, slid me inside her, arched her back, and started rotating her hips. Watching her tits bounce was quite a sight. After riding me for several minutes, we switched positions. On her back, she wrapped her legs around me as I surged in and out of her. Then she bent over the bed, and I entered her from behind. Clutching her waist, digging my fingers into the flesh of her hips, I pounded her, my pelvis slamming against her backside. My groan signaled my release. I was entirely drained.

She retrieved a warm washcloth and cleaned me up. Gently running her nails over my skin and massaging me with her hands, she talked for a little while about her schooling in her Southern accent. As the end of our appointment neared, I excused myself to get dressed. We said goodbye, and I exited her room, preparing for the long drive home.

Whooty

Whooty –A slang term for a white woman with a booty, or a larger bottom.

I spotted on social media that Amanda was back in town. As I prepared my material for my adult Sunday school class, I remembered the delights of her bounteous behind. I set aside my work and reached out to her. Since I had visited her twice before, making an arrangement went easily. We agreed to meet about 2 hours later for a quick visit.

After I arrived at her hotel, I waited 20 minutes for her to text me the room number. As soon as I walked into her room and saw her in that skimpy black lingerie, my concerns about the material I was to teach vanished from my mind. She apologized for the delay and told me to “get comfortable.” I started removing my clothing. She brought out a condom, wrapped in on me, and started with a blowjob. Even as she was servicing me, my sight was fixed on the view of her amazing ass.

Before she finished her blowjob, I asked her if we could position ourselves doggy style. She casually said sure. I positioned myself behind her, massaged that incredible ass, and started to go at it with this thick and curvy girl. The sound of my pelvis smacking against her booty resounded around the room.

“Lutherans are very intense in bed!”

While most of my colleagues watched the Super Bowl last night, I had an edifying dinner with “Julia,” a philosophy student at the university. “I’ve never had a serious discussion with a theologian before,” she said when we first met. She said she was raised without any religious background, although her extended family was Roman Catholic. That, along with her training in academic philosophy, gave her a distance from religious experience. She’s a 34-year old student earning an advanced degree in Continental ethical and political philosophy. The thinkers she most interacts with are Arendt, Derrida, Deleuze, Heidegger, Foucault, Lyotard, Althusser, Nietzsche. A reference to Foucault turned cheeky: “In a patriarchal system, vanilla sex has a power dynamic just as much as BDSM,” she said. “Only the female is submissive. And no whips and chains.” She discussed the contradictions and complexities in being both a Nietzschean and a feminist. She clarified Nietzsche’s writings on the master-slave relationship and his views on Christianity. (“Read The Genealogy of Morals,” she advised.) Our conversation turned to the subject of sex work. Sex workers, she said, learn the forbidden truth that love is contingent. The fictions of heteroromance and lifelong monogamy are exposed in the transactional encounter between provider and client. Then she became more subdued. Despite having no direct experience with religion growing up, she recently has evinced an intense interest in religion. Previously she confessed to having corrupted a candidate for the Anglican priesthood to the point that he was no longer able to receive communion. Now she was haunted by Nietzsche’s “Death of God,” yet could not conceive of a compelling case for religion in postmodern thought. I recommended the late Michael Novak’s book No One Sees God: The Dark Night of Atheists and Believers. Her vulnerability became more pronounced as the evening progressed. Our bodies drew close together on the couch.

She reached over and kissed me.

I reciprocated and kissed her deeply. I confess that during our conversation I had stealthily eyed her luscious DD breasts. Without any resistance from her, I lifted up her black sweater and pulled it over her head. My hand reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. My mouth fastened itself on her hard nipples. As I sucked on her breasts, she suggested we move to her bed. Once we were in her bedroom, she pulled down her black panties. I positioned my head between her thighs and penetrated her with my tongue. My tongue explored her depths before it located her clitoris, applying gentle flicks. She became increasingly wet.

“Fuck!” she shrieked as she came.

She lay back on the bed. I moved my body close to hers. She grabbed my cock and pulled it inside her pussy. As she wrapped her legs around my back, I began slowly thrusting. After a while, she got on her hands and knees. I gave her ass cheek a slight slap, then grabbed her waist as I fucked her. But she wasn’t done. She climbed on top and rode me cowgirl, her hips bucking back and forth, her body flailing. I was close to coming, but I didn’t want to ejaculate in her pussy. As she got back on her back, I jerked off over her chest. Finally I unleashed a stream of white cream over her tits.

Then she giggled. “Lutherans are very intense in bed!”

Intrigued

I saw on social media that “Emily” was about to tour in a nearby city, and I was intrigued by her wavy blonde hair and her bountiful ass. I contacted her, was screened, and we set a date and time to meet.

When the day arrived, I made the drive and texted her when I arrived at her hotel. I went up to her room and knocked on the door. Emily answered the door wearing a black robe, bra, panties, and heels and she greeted me with a hug and a soft kiss. I placed the donation on a table. She turned on some sultry music and sat on the bed. I sat down next to her. Things started out slowly with some chatting about how her visit was going and some light touching. A light kiss turned into some deep kissing. She lay down. I started kissing her neck, then her breasts. Her nipples were very responsive. I reached down and pulled off her thong panties. She started feeling my crotch. Then my clothes came off. She got on her knees and brought her mouth to my cock. I watched as her full lips wrapped themselves around my manhood. She proceeded with an enthusiastic blowjob, her hazel eyes staring into mine. Then she put a condom on with her mouth and climbed on top of me. I held her hips as she bounced on me. Then she flipped over onto her hands and knees. I moved behind her and took a moment to behold her big, curvy ass. I then felt her tightness as I slipped myself inside her. I grabbed those luscious cheeks, and my pelvis started slapping against her ass. I pounded away as she moaned and grasped the sheets. Her dirty talk sent me over the edge; I exploded into the condom.

We kissed, she cleaned me up, then we cuddled for a while. We talked before I dressed. (She talked in detail about her bisexual experiences.) Then she gave me a deep kiss on the way out the door.

Alluring Curves

My most recent encounter was with “Dharma,” a tanned California blonde. On an escort site, I saw that she was visiting a city within driving distance. I contacted her assistant and got verified on short notice. She texted me the location of her upscale hotel and the room number on the day of the appointment. When I arrived at the hotel room the door was ajar. I peeked inside and spotted an attractive woman in her thirties with alluring curves. She greeted me with a deep, wet kiss. She was dressed in a revealing black dress that showed off her bountiful breasts. I discreetly placed the white envelope containing the donation on the coffee table. She encouraged me to sit on the small couch, and we conversed for a few minutes as she brushed my thigh with her hand. She shared that she had been an athlete in college, and her body still was toned. As our conversation progressed, she moved closer to me and rubbed her leg next to mine. Her hand moved higher along my thigh, then unbuckled my belt.

Then I noticed that the top of her dress slipped down, exposing her nipple.

She smiled and asked if we could move the conversation to the bed. I excused myself to take a shower (it had been a considerable drive). She was waiting for me on the bed when I got out of the bathroom. She got up and removed her dress, unleashing her mammoth mammaries. Then she knelt down in front of me and swallowed my cock. At one point she took my cock out of her mouth and smiled as she wrapped her big natural tits around it before it disappeared once more in her pretty mouth.

She then crawled up on the bed and lay on her back. She spread her legs, and I buried my face between them. I slid my tongue up and down her slit before sliding my tongue deep inside her. I greedily lapped at her nectar. She asked to taste herself, so I moved up and planted a deep kiss on her.

I needed to get inside her.

Sensing my need, she asked what my favorite position is; I deferred to hers. She grabbed my cock and put the condom on, then she climbed on top.

Oh, fuck yeah….

She started with a slow rhythm, then progressed to a faster pace rocking back and forth on my cock. As she rode me, I watched as her breasts bounced and listened to her cries.

Fuck me, Philip….

She told me that she wanted me to take her from behind. We switched positions as she got on all fours and lifted her ass into the air. I moved behind her round derrière, gave it a firm spank, and thrust myself inside her.

Don’t stop! Harder!

I groaned and told her how good it felt. I pounded her with a vigorous rhythm.

Fuck my tits!

She lay on her back and removed the condom. As I straddled her chest, she poured some lube over her breasts. I started titty-fucking her as she squeezed her breasts together. I couldn’t hold out much longer. I erupted over her tits, covering them with my cum.

Once we were done, and I got dressed, we casually chatted for a while. When I finally departed her hotel room, visions of her tits continued to dance in my head.

“Adult Fun”

Preparing for teaching my class at church Wednesday night, I got the urge.

And I needed to satiate it.

I set aside my material on Galatians and brought up “Olga’s” profile on an escort site. A European “model,” her long blonde hair, green eyes, and 34c -28″-36″ measurements, as well as her promise of “adult fun,” were certainly enticing. I texted her seeking a date. She promptly responded and requested some information for screening. After satisfying her request, she texted back that I could meet her at her suburban incall in a couple of hours.

She opened the door to her hotel room wearing a sheer, short black nightgown. I could detect the outline of her black thong panties underneath. She looked older than her profile pictures, but was appetizing nonetheless. I placed the donation on the dresser. In a sexy accent, she asked me to get comfortable on the bed. I took off my clothes. Off came her nightgown, and she pressed my head to her chest, allowing me to suck on her erect nipples. She stroked my cock with her finely manicured hands, then ripped open the condom wrapper. I ran my hands through her hair as she serviced me with her mouth. The black thong came off.

“Fuck me, baby,” she moaned.

She climbed on top of me. As she rode me, I leaned forward and pressed my face against her tits. She then moved onto her back and spread her legs. I slowly pushed myself into her as I felt her legs wrap around my back. I started slowly at first, then went at it faster and harder, striving to penetrate her depths. Finally I couldn’t hold out any longer, and I groaned my release.

We disengaged. Neither of us said a word as we cleaned ourselves up and dressed. I had to make myself presentable for church. Before my hour was up, I was out the door.

Naked and Ashamed

Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. – Genesis 3:7

My theology is decidedly Augustinian, so the Fall is crucial to my theological thinking. We are told in Genesis that Adam and Eve originally were “both naked and were not ashamed” in the Garden of Eden (2:25). Then after the man and woman ate of the fruit proffered by the serpent, they became aware of their nakedness and sought covering. Their first recorded act after being expelled from the garden was sexual intercourse (4:1). Or as one commentator memorably puts it, “The moment they knew sin, they fucked.”

A Baptist minister and sexologist recently wrote a book entitled Sinless Sex: A Challenge to Religions. The main thrust of the book is that a scientifically-based understanding of human sexuality punctures the traditional sexual doctrines of the Abrahamic religions, which must necessarily reconstruct their teachings to conform with modern sexual science. A further implication of the title, I think, is that the encrustation of sex with notions of sin should be summarily discarded by an enlightened perception of sexuality.

For those of us who have struggled to adhere to the traditional sexual ethic, this sounds like liberating news. But what if sex is not so sinless? Augustine, dour erotophobe that he was, believed that even within the divinely approved conjugal relationship, the element of sinfulness could not be entirely eliminated. The deformed passions of lust brought about by the Fall, he thought, contaminate the whole of human sexuality. The innocence of the prelapsarian Adam and Eve, particularly in the realm of sex, cannot be retrieved. Those who promote a “shameless” sexual ethic, guided by a certain romanticism, believe that if the old irrational taboos are tossed aside and our sexual desires are openly communicated, sexual dysfunction will cease. I’m not so sure. We are condemned to stand naked and ashamed.