Holy Whore

The first cool, crisp day of autumn. With the start of fall I’ve returned to the classroom to teach a class at a nearby seminary. Pumpkin spice season also brings with it an increased number of ministerial activities at the parish. (I almost singlehandedly oversaw Sunday’s Ministry Fair.) Despite my many obligations, I had arranged a tryst with “Jennifer,” a curvaceous platinum blonde visiting from the Bay Area. I made the considerable drive to her suburban hotel anticipating an erotic diversion.

When the door opened to her hotel room, I was not disappointed. A Marilyn-esque figure greeted me in a black robe with bedroom eyes. In a soft voice, she invited me in. After our initial greetings, I excused myself to the bathroom to freshen up and place the donation on the counter. When I reemerged, she invited me to sit across from her in a chair. Her robe was loosely tied; I distinctly noticed her breasts bulging over her lacy black bra.

She immediately asked me about my studies and work in ministry. She then volunteered that she participates in Bible study and is active in her church. She wasn’t the first escort I’ve encountered who professed a religious commitment. During one early encounter, the lady invited me to a revival. On Katherine’s nightstand a bottle of Holy Water sat next to a bottle of Astroglide. My last visit with Audrey included a brief discussion on biblical hermeneutics. I once glanced into the purse of another companion and saw a Bible along with a picture of the Sacred Heart.

As she sat seductively across from me, Jennifer spoke admiringly of my work in the church. She discussed her prayer life, and while her theology didn’t appear to go any deeper than a Joel Osteen sermon, her faith seemed sincere. Yet as we talked, my eyes kept returning to her breasts – her D cups runneth over. My erection grew even firmer. Then she became very flirtatious.

“What do you want to do, my darling?”

I placed my hand on her upper thigh, feeling the silky fabric of her robe. She took my hand, rose from her chair, and led me to the bed. She untied her robe, allowing it to drop to the carpet. Then she released her big breasts from her bra. Lust had already taken over me. I started to disrobe in turn. She slipped her panties off. I pulled down my boxer briefs. She caressed my balls, then then ran her fingers across that sensitive area just beneath my scrotum. She positioned herself on her knees. Her warm, wet mouth was sucking my cock. I gently held her head, her blond hair wrapped between my fingers. Her pretty and attentive face peered up at me, her red lips smeared with spit and precum.

She got up, and we moved onto the bed. She applied a condom. She lay on her back and eased her legs apart. With a slight moan, I slipped myself inside her. As I moved slowly at first, she raised her hips and wrapped her legs around me. I felt her nails dig into my shoulders. The bed rocked and creaked beneath us. I could feel her pussy tighten around my shaft as I pumped faster and harder. The more she cried out the more I wanted to drive my cock deep inside her. I groaned as my body shuddered, and I felt myself spurt into the condom.

She got up and retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom to clean me up. We conversed for a few minutes, mostly about topics that came up in her Bible study. We then abruptly transitioned to kissing and caressing one another. My erection swiftly returned. She moved on top of me, positioning her breasts in my face. I sucked on her nipples, moving from her right nipple to her left and back again. It was time for another condom. She straddled me, guiding my cock into her. My hands squeezed her waist as she vigorously rode me, her tits bouncing up and down. But I wanted more. I had her position herself on her hands and knees, her ass in the air. As I marveled at her curvy bottom, my thoughts were decidedly unholy. I moved behind her, grabbed her hips, penetrated her, and started to slowly and steadily pump into her. The slapping sound of our bodies smacking against each other mingled with our animalistic grunts. With increasingly faster thrusts I fucked her; a bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face. My cock started to twitch. My body shuddered as I grunted my orgasm.

We disengaged, and I lay on the bed, spent from my exertions. We resumed our conversation until we noticed that our allotted time was nearing its end. She allowed me to take a shower to wash off the evidence of our engagement. I briskly dressed afterward. She planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. Then I departed for the long drive home.

After the Revolution

Sex and the City‘s Samantha captured the ethos of a certain brand of sex-positive feminism when she candidly declared that she liked to “fuck like a man.” In her new book The Case Against the Sexual Revolution, British writer Louise Perry denies such a thing is possible. Her thesis sounds like something one would expect from a conservative evangelical parachurch ministry. Perry’s argument, however, is a feminist polemic against sex-positive feminism.

In an era when BDSM societies populate some colleges campuses, it is certainly countercultural to argue against sex-positivity. Perry stands athwart the tide of sexual liberation and inveighs, “It’s time for a sexual counter-revolution.” That’s because it turns out the beneficiaries of the sexual revolution have been lusty men unfettered from female restraint. Hugh Hefner was its avatar. Rebelling against the religious puritanism of his Midwestern upbringing, Hefner launched Playboy in 1953 with Marilyn Monroe on its cover. With the zeal of a convert, he preached the gospel of sexual freedom, bedding an endless number of blond twenty-somethings along the way. (At the Playboy Mansion, an elderly Hefner would recline on his bed while being mounted by a succession of girls who encouraged him with chants of “Fuck her daddy!”) Playboy‘s advocacy for access to contraception and abortion rights seemed purposely designed to shield men from any consequences from their sexual profligacy.

Rejecting the plasticity of postmodern sexual identity, Perry speaks of the “hard limits imposed by biology.” Siding with nature over nurture, she argues that there are intrinsic differences between men and women which influence their sexual desires. Women, who prior to contraceptives risked pregnancy with any sexual encounter, prefer relationships that offer commitment and intimacy. (Women are much less likely to reach orgasm during casual sex and more prone to “catch feelings.”) Men, impelled by the biological imperative to spread their seed, can more easily disengage from their partners. Hookup culture, facilitated by apps like Tinder, rewards male promiscuity. (One male user brags, “You could rack up 100 girls you’ve slept with in a year.”)

Perry takes issue with “consent” as the only ethical criterion sexual liberals use to adjudicate the appropriateness of any sexual activity. She “prioritises virtue over desire.” Some desires are undesirable, and our moral intuition should play a role in evaluating them. Few sex-positive feminists, she contends, are “willing to draw the link between the culture of sexual hedonism they promote and anxieties over campus rape.” Indeed, the sexual milieu of young women in the early 21st century is presented as one of unrelieved misery, with patriarchal sexism tarted up as empowering sex-positivity. The revelations of the #MeToo movement bely the notion behind the old Virginia Slims slogan: “You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby.” Perry bemoans the Fifty Shades of Grey phenomenon as female concession to male aggression. Pornography both reflects male sexual desire and refracts it. Porn depicts rough emotionless sex featuring acts (such as anal sex) that appeal to male aggression. In porn, Perry writes, “women are shown begging men for painful or degrading sex acts.” She’s not surprised when women acquiesce to such practices in their private lives.

Taking her cue from Max Weber, Perry writes of a “sexual disenchantment” born of the sexual revolution, which is the notion that “sex has no intrinsic specialness, that it is not innately different from any other kind of social interaction.” In late capitalism, sex is commodified. Prostitution is recast as “sex work.” In this barren wasteland, she seeks to establish a more substantial sexual ethic than that of mere consent: “We should aspire to love and mutuality in all of our sexual relationships.”

Although Perry’s perspective is entirely secular, her tropes resemble those I encountered coming of age in the purity culture. The predatory male libido threatens female virtue. Porn is inherently degrading. Sex is imbued with an intrinsic meaning that can’t be reduced to mere physicality and finds its true purpose within the context of a committed relationship (namely marriage). Her conservatism is shared by those “icky” religious fundamentalists she would otherwise not choose to associate with.

“A truly feminist project,” Perry writes “would demand that…it should be men, not women, who adjust their sexual appetites.” If male sexual aggression is largely biologically determined, as she suggests elsewhere in her book, that may be a fool’s errand. Take the aggression depicted in porn. Its brutishness unleashes latent desires that sexual purity codes strove (with varying levels of success) to rein in or rechannel. “Far from poisoning the mind, pornography shows the deepest truth about sexuality, stripped of romantic veneer,” wrote Camille Paglia. When I’m watching a rough porn scene, I’m stirred at a primal level. The “love and mutuality” Perry seeks is nowhere to be found. Speaking as a male who has furtively taken advantage of the opportunities afforded by the sexual revolution, I suspect there’s little appetite for a counterrevolution among men.

Shy Girl

I’m decidedly an introvert. Most companions, in my experience, are more extroverted than I am. This dynamic typically guides my interactions with them.

So “Sabrina” posed a bit of a challenge.

A young, lithe, pretty brunette with the legs of a runway model, she quietly sat across from me in her hotel room wearing slinky black negligee. Her shyness made our conversation awkward. I asked her a few generic questions, but her responses were brief. She seemed unsure what to say or how to act.

I decided to take the initiative. I took her by the hand, signaling for her to rise. My hands reached for the straps of her negligee. I pulled them off her shoulders. The negligee fell to the carpet, revealing her pert breasts. I traced my finger around her areolas and nipples. My fingers then ran down her taut, flat stomach before they reached inside the elastic of her black panties. I gently pulled them down. I noticed her trimmed bush.

She remained passive as I disrobed her. She seemed rather submissive. I told her gently, but firmly, to get on her knees. She lowered her knees to the carpet, unbuckled my belt, unfastened my pants, and pulled down my underwear. She took my cock into her mouth and proceeded with a slow blowjob. My hand gripped the back of her head and gently guided her. I glanced down at her and enjoyed the sight of her servicing me. A moan escaped my lips as her mouth continued to work on my cock.

I had her stand up and move to the bed. I settled beside her. She confessed that she was getting very wet. She procured a condom and covered me. I lowered my body on top of hers and entered her. She was tight. I thrust slowly at first, eventually increasing my tempo. After a few minutes, we switched positions. I grabbed her slender waist as she started riding me cowgirl. She fucked me with a steady rhythm and slightly moaned as her body undulated on top of mine. I relished the sensations. But I wanted more. I repositioned her body and bent her over the bed. I moved behind her and penetrated her. The encounter was completely lacking in any illusion of romance, but I didn’t mind as I started to fuck her hard. I heard myself growl as my pelvis slapped against her sweet ass. I couldn’t hold out any longer, and I exploded into the condom.

After we disengaged, we cleaned ourselves up. She put her gown back on. I dressed. Hardly a word passed between us. We exchanged an awkward hug before I exited her hotel room.

“They leave for pelvic reasons”

A local nondenominational church has opened a coffeehouse/bookstore near my residence. It serves a nice vanilla latte and sells a copy of the ESV Bible with Creeds and Confessions. It provides a pleasant setting to do some writing.

The comely barista is a distraction, however. She engaged me in a brief conversation. She’s a student at a local college and a worshipper at the church that operates the coffee shop. Her blond hair and noticeable bosom were appealing. As I settled in front of my laptop, my eyes were repeatedly diverted by her presence. I imagined peeling off her blouse and capris pants and exploring her nubile body.

One of the books I browsed was a book researching why young Christians leave the church. Familiar complaints from those who had departed included a wariness of ecclesiastical authority and the supposed conflict between science and religion.

And sex.

Perceived sexual repression is a major catalyst for exiting the church. One young Catholic said, “No one leaves the church because of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. They leave for pelvic reasons.”

Sociologist Mark Regnerus described young Christians as being caught in a “clash of cultures”: the “pleasure ethic” and sexual freedom extolled by secular culture collides with the conservative sexual ethic demanded by most churches. The book labels this ethic “sexual traditionalism,” which restricts the range of sexual expression and clouds it in shame. Many young Christians, according to the research, still believe in the tenets of sexual traditionalism. The crisis of faith comes when their behavior can no longer comport to this standard. One young man who was interviewed was a worship leader at his church while he indulged his obsession with pornography and engaged in numerous hookups. He said, “I just literally led a double life, between church and sex.”

As I write this, my eye still catches the figure of the barista. Unlike the days of my innocent youth in which I affirmed the verities of the purity culture, I know the pleasures her body could produce. Another law waged war in my members against my mind (cf. Rom 7:23), which made me ripe for sexual exploration. The moment I knew sin, I fucked.

As a means of combating this trend, the author advocates a more “relational” approach to sexuality which replaces a rigid adherence to rules in guiding sexual conduct. Perhaps. I’ve personally experienced sexuality as a driving, relentless force that obliterates deeply held beliefs. There’s nothing like the sight of a naked woman awaiting you in the bed she shares with her husband to weaken one’s adherence to the Sixth Commandment. The substance of sexual traditionalism, not just its presentation, has come into doubt.

Meanwhile, I continue to lust after that barista.

Making up for Lost Time

I had last visited Isabelle three years ago. She was memorable because she bore a certain resemblance to a classmate of mine in high school, Genevieve – long brown hair, an innocent face, petite yet curvy, with a bosom that could not escape my notice. I secretly wanted to fuck her, but in my fevered quest for purity, I couldn’t even admit that to myself. So when I discovered that she was visiting, I contacted her via email, and we set up a meeting.

I suppose I’m making up for lost time.

I received a kiss and a hug when I arrived at her upscale hotel room. Her breasts protruded from her red silk robe. She had just returned from Starbucks and apologized for any lingering taste of coffee on her lips. I left the donation on the table and admired her physique. We sat on the couch and conversed a bit. Her sweet, bubbly personality made me comfortable. I put my hand on her knee. She moved in for a light kiss. My hand moved up her thigh. Our kisses grew deeper. Soon my hands were roaming around her body. Her skin was soft and smooth. She caressed my hard cock through my pants, then undid her robe. I reached around her back and unclasped her bra. I kissed her soft, full breasts and sucked on her hard, pierced nipples. She lured me off the couch and stripped off my shirt, pants, and boxer briefs. My cock was throbbing, and she appreciated my response. She led me to the bed. Her panties came off. She said she needed to taste me. She teased me by slowly licking my balls, then took me deep into her mouth. Her blue eyes gazed up at me as she performed an exquisite blowjob.

For a brief moment, I imagined it was Genevieve sucking me off.

Isabelle asked if we should grab a condom. I didn’t object. She covered me, applied some lube, and climbed on top of me. Her soft, sweet moans reached my ears as her hips slowly rocked back and forth. Her tempo eventually quickened, and she was riding me hard, her big breasts bouncing. I had her get on her hands and knees. She bent over, offering me a glorious sight of her curves. I moved behind her, grabbed her butt, and plunged myself deep inside her. Her ass bounced as my pelvis thrust against her. She begged for me to come.

I did.

She offered to retrieve a towel for me. After she quickly cleaned me up, we cuddled for a bit while I recuperated. She naughtily confessed to having earlier flirted with a waitress at a nearby restaurant. I confessed that she reminded me of a former classmate. (I’m sure that’s not the first time she’s heard something like that.) We finally got off the bed and dressed as we approached the end of our appointed time. I made my way to the door, and she kissed me goodbye. I discreetly exited the hotel into the sultry summer air.

Passionate Lust

That each of you should learn to control his own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the heathen. (1 Thess 4:4-5).

Jenna texted me her room number when I arrived at her hotel. I knocked on the door of her room, and she opened the door in a bathrobe. She gave me a hug and a kiss before I asked if I could fresh up in the bathroom. She assented to my request, and I left the donation in an envelope on the counter before I took a quick shower. She was waiting for me on the bed when I came back out. Her robe had been hiked up, giving me a good look at her sun-kissed legs. I had visited her last winter. She had maintained the look of the hot college cheerleader I had secretly longed to fuck – blond hair, blue eyes, pouty lips. I climbed onto the bed next to her, and we resumed our acquaintance. While we innocuously chatted, her robe came off; she had been wearing nothing underneath it. Her luscious, natural DD breasts transfixed my gaze. My cock was throbbing.

There was nothing holy or honorable in me at the moment.

I reached over and fondled her tits, caressing them and sucking on her nipples. She reached for my crotch and started stroking my cock and teasing my balls. She then rolled me onto my back. I emitted a slight groan when she wrapped her lips around my cock. Her head moved up and down as she pleasured me. She applied a condom and moved her body down on top of mine. My hips started to thrust off the bed in response. I enjoyed the sight of her big tits bouncing up and down as she rode me. I also wanted to enjoy the sight of her juicy ass, so she acquiesced to my request to position herself on her hands and knees. I moved behind her, gently caressed her butt, then penetrated her. I held on to her hips and started to pump, yielding unreservedly to that passionate lust I can’t control. She vocally responded to my exertions, motivating me to fuck her even harder. I grabbed her ass and continued thrusting into her. I felt beads of sweat trickling down my face. Harder and harder I went at it, savoring her body and the sensations it produced, before I finally surrendered to my orgasm.

After cleaning me up, she joined me on the bed for another light conversation. I caressed her breast as we talked. The end of our encounter approached. She allowed me the opportunity to take another shower. After I dressed, we hugged and said our goodbyes. Then I left her room.

No Monk Am I

With my pastoral duties lightened for the summer, and the burden of teaching waiting until the fall, I’ve immersed myself in making progress on my dissertation on liturgical theology. Lots of long hours researching at the seminary library and writing in coffee shops. I’ve been almost monk-like in my academic activities. But I’m the far from being a monk. My self-imposed enclosure can’t long withstand the allure of more sensual pursuits.

All of which brought me back to Jewel. She returned, as promised. When I reached out via e-mail to schedule with her, she enticed me with some unexpected photos of her in various states of undress. Not wanting to pass up this opportunity, I booked an engagement with her.

As I approached the door to her hotel room, I was already gripped by my arousal. Jewel opened the door and let me in. This petite Asian stood before me in a fancy bra and panty set. There were some pleasantries, then I excused myself to take a shower and wash off the sweat from the summer heat. When I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, she was seductively lying on the bed. I made my way closer to her to get a better view of the curvature of her ass. She undid my towel and tossed it aside. Without a word passing between us, we started to kiss. I removed her bra, her bare breasts exposed. My mouth left her lips and moved to her erect nipples. As I sucked on them, she purred. My tongue retreated from her nipples and darted back inside her mouth. Then her panties came off.

What followed was a blur of flesh, a cacophony of moans. I explored her body – licking, kissing, tasting. She followed in turn, pleasuring me. As she fell to her knees, I ran my fingers through her silky black hair. I gripped her head as her mouth consumed my manhood. A condom came on, and she mounted me first. Our bodies bounced to an unscripted rhythm. We switched positions as I moved on top, furiously driving myself deep into her. Her small breasts bounced in response to my exertions. My stamina waned, and I erupted into the condom. As I watched her play with herself, my arousal didn’t take long to return. Jewel would not be denied her pleasure. She wrapped me in a new condom. I bent her over the bed. My body taut as my hands desperately grasped the sides of her buttocks, my pelvis rhythmically slammed into her backside. My thrusts jarred her slender body, each thrust seemingly provoking an audible gasp. I continued fucking her this way even as I grew sore. Then I erupted once more.

I collapsed on the bed afterwards. Jewel focused on cleaning me up, then moved to put her bra and panties back on. As she stepped toward the mirror, she glanced back at me with a smirk, as if she had seen through my pious façade. No monk am I.

Hidden Escape

I inconspicuously made my way through the foyer of the downtown hotel. I texted “Jewel” of my arrival, and she agreed to meet me at the elevator. There I spotted a young petite Asian lady in a short pink dress. We discreetly entered the elevator. She casually asked about my trip downtown as we made our way up to her room. She slid the key card to open the door. I followed behind her, admiring the way her dress showed off her figure. She shut the door behind us, the room having become our hidden escape. I excused myself to leave the envelope containing the donation on the bathroom counter. We sat down, and we talked about her current travels on tour. She seemed cute and playful, and I enjoyed her company.

She said she was currently reading a book on feminist frameworks that explores how sex work can empower women. Sensing that our rendezvous was about to become more passionate, I excused myself to take a shower.

When I returned, the dress was off, and she was lying on the bed wearing only her white bra and panties. She complimented my body. I joined her on the bed and assisted her in taking off her lingerie, revealing her perky breasts and shapely ass. She started kissing me up and down my body. Her lithe naked body over mine was a lovely sight. I nibbled on her ears and licked and sucked on her delicate nipples. As I massaged her breast, she took my cock into her mouth. I felt her tongue dance around the tip of my cock. I brushed aside her silky black hair to get a better look at her. While the sensations were exquisite, I wanted to be inside of her. She retrieved a condom and put it on with her mouth. I got on top of her. We stopped for a moment, and she hopped off the bed. She pressed her hands against the wall, bending her ass out. I moved behind her and resumed fucking her. The sensation of her ass bouncing against my pelvis was almost too much for me to handle. When I heard her moans, I couldn’t contain myself any longer. I exploded soon thereafter.

She cleaned me up, and we cuddled in bed afterwards, her head reclining on my shoulder. We talked some more. She was enjoying exploring some of the downtown restaurants. (She was particularly fond of the martinis at one establishment.) As our appointed time neared its end, I excused myself to dress. She enticed me to agree to visit her again when she returns to town.

Concupiscence of the Flesh

That “concupiscence of the flesh” with which Augustine was quite intimately familiar in his youth is ever-present: “I was bound by this need of the flesh.”

All of which drove me to seek out an encounter with Claudette. I had seen her just prior to when the pandemic struck. When I discovered she was visiting the area, I was eager to enjoy her company. To my surprise, when I sought an appointment, she remembered me: “Oh, yes, you’re the theologian.” We worked out a time that fit our calendars. When the date arrived, I made my preparations and drove across the bridge to the classic hotel where she was hosting.

A mature, sophisticated “courtesan” with a European background, she welcomed me wearing a sheer white robe. I spied the white teddy she wore underneath. I discreetly set the envelope containing the donation on a side table. We sat on a sofa, and she asked me about my studies. She had previously been in education and was interested in academia. I found her slight accent (she’s a native Francophone) beguiling and her intelligence arousing. Meanwhile her long creamy legs jutted out from the opening of her robe. After several minutes of conversation, she seductively placed her hand on my thigh. I’m certain she noticed my arousal. She suggested we move to the bed and promptly removed her robe.

We made it to the side of the bed. She positioned her knees on the carpet. Her hands reached for my belt. She unfastened it and undid my zipper. My pants fell down. She pulled my cock out of my boxer briefs. My cock literally ached as she handled it. I watched as she licked the head, then the shaft. She wrapped her lips around the length of my cock. I wrapped my fingers in her blond hair and groaned as my cock throbbed in her mouth.

She reached for the condom, and we moved onto the bed. She crawled on top of me, straddling my waist, and slid me inside of her. Her hips began gyrating. My hands grasped her waist before I reached for her tits. After riding me for several minutes, she dismounted me and got onto her knees. The sight of her curved body in front of me was pleasing to my eyes. I moved behind her and reentered her. Clutching at her hips, I went faster and faster, harder and harder, deeper and deeper. My pelvis slapped against her ass. My face was marred by streaks of sweat. My balls tightened as I frenetically thrust. Then I erupted.

Collapsing on the bed afterwards, we engaged in a bit more conversation. As the end of our appointed time approached, I dressed and prepared to exit. We shared a kiss goodbye. Then I departed.

Complicit in Her Corruption

She had the door to her hotel suite slightly cracked open so as to not attract undue attention. Daniella was waiting just inside wearing only a sexy black bra and panty set. We kissed at the door. I had seen her before and once again admired her petite yet busty physique — 4’9″, 98 lb., 32DD. She resembled the naughty babysitter complicit in her corruption. She offered me a glass of wine, and we sat on a sofa next to a dormant fireplace. We chatted for a few minutes. Then she invited me back to the bedroom.

I undressed and lay down on the bed. I noticed the nightstand littered with toys. She applied oil on my back and started with a back rub. Her technique was skilled. She invited me to return the favor. I massaged the milky white skin on her back and shoulders, but my eyes were fixated on that perfect ass of hers. My hands found their way to her behind. She moaned.

Dad-dy….

She said she was wet. She had me lie down and grabbed a condom. I caressed her silky blond hair as she orally pleasured me. Then she said that she just wanted to be fucked. She climbed on top of me and slid down my cock, grinding her hips against me. Holding her by the waist, I thrust my hips up and off the bed, intensely focused on those double Ds. She then reached for a bullet vibrator on the nightstand and positioned herself onto her hands and knees. I moved behind her and delighted in the sight of her shapely back and ass. As I slid myself inside her, she rubbed her vibrator on her clit. Her moaning heightened. She urged me to go faster and harder. I complied. Her vocalizations intensified and her body shivered. I could hold out no longer and exploded.

She cleaned me up, and we cuddled afterwards. Then it was time for me to shower and dress. We bid farewell, and I exited the hotel into the early summer evening.