The Preacher Who Practised

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Tom’s body language was unmistakable. He wanted to ask me something but did not know how to start. Finally he did


“Yes, Tom.”

“How about a make-out session one of these days.” It was a stunning announcement. In my 55 years this was the first time someone was inviting me for making out. It was not exactly the time of life when women are suitable for such activity even from a man aged 45 years. But what stunned me more than anything else was that Tom should be the one. He was an American who was visiting our church to conduct bible study in one of the exchange programmes. He was not a reverend but often preached. His bible study we can rightly describe as out of this world. At times it was so sublime that one felt that the Holy Spirit was speaking through him. In short the last person one would expect to invite a student for a make out session.

I got a doubt. I am not very familiar with the American language. May be by make out session he was referring g to some bible related activity like a prayer vigil or some such thing.

“Tom, first I have to assure myself of what this making out which is an American expression means. My understanding is that it is about two people feeling each other and kissing and so on and on. Is that what you mean?”

“Yes.” He was smiling. The trace of embarrassment that was in his demeanour was now gone.

“‘I must ask my husband first’,” I said. His jaw seemed to drop and he swallowed twice. I laughed. “It is my turn to stun you,” I said and laughed again. He grinned more than smiled. “I’ll call you.” I said. He bowed and left.


“Darling Liz. It appears you want to say something but find it difficult to start.”

“Simon sweetie, this habit of yours of reading my innermost thoughts is quite annoying,”

“Because it is true.”


“I’m just trying to be helpful,”

“I understand.”

“Then out with it. The sooner the better.

“It is something extraordinarily absurd.”

“I am itching to know.”

“Well it is like this. It is about Tom.”

“Tompkins, the preacher.”

“He explains the bible. Preaching is only occasional. When he talks the bible comes out alive and vibrant and it glows.”

“In as short time as three weeks he has become your super hero.”

“I like him very much.”

“I suppose he likes you too.”

“He does.”

“How do you know?

“Today he asked me something that indicates that he does like me very much indeed.”

“I can see your tongue bulging your cheek I am itching to know what happened.”

“I don’t think I can tell you.”

“Come on Liz, out with it. I am getting excited.”

“Well here goes. He asked me, I quote, ‘Liz how about a make-out session one of these days’. Those were his words.”

“What did you say?”

“”For a moment it stunned me. I collected my wits together. I wanted to assure myself that he was not referring to some innocent bible related activity. I asked him if by making out he was referring to two people engaging in hugging, kissing and so forth. He said it was so. Then I answered. I quote again: ‘I must ask my husband first.”

“His turn to be stunned,” said my husband and laughed. “This must be the first time in history anyone has responded this way to that question. Did he faint?”

“His lower jaw loosened, but he did not stagger.” I laughed too “He smiled shaking his head bewilderingly and bowed and walked away. As he turned the corner he smiled and waved a farewell. As I drove back it perplexed me that a person so well versed in the bible should harbour such thoughts. Don’t you think it is odd?”

“Not quite,” said Simon. “Biblical scholars are not enjoined to follow the teachings.”

“But he is no ordinary scholar Simon. When he speaks one can feel the Holy Spirit in him.”

“Man is weak of the flesh,” said Simon. “It is God who has created him that way. It will be grossly unfair of God to create the weakness first and punish man if he strays.”

“It is like you Simon to come out with an explanation like this.”

“Liz, the bible has many instances of man straying. Abraham, the father of us all for reasons of personal safety said his wife was his sister and sent her into the pharaoh’s harem where no doubt she would have had to yield to the king. This same Sarah persuades her husband to have sex with her maid. You know Bathsheba and King David and you know what happened to Uriah her husband, and of course the story of Lot’s daughters is ever green in the memory of all teenage bible readers. The point is this—all the personages I have mentioned found favour in the eyes of God.”


“There is absolutely nothing wrong if our Biblical scholar and occasional preacher does a little bit of making out in his spare time.”

“I am surprised and hurt that you, instead of bridling up at this extraordinary request from a relatively little known man for the favours of your wife should actually be advocating his cause.”

“My dear Liz you should be the one bridling up. When you told bahis firmaları him that you will ask your husband in effect you had agreed to his proposal.”

“May be I am a sinner, but even then you should have guided me to the right path for after all you are 15 years my senior in age.”

“You have inadvertently come to the point. I am 71 and I have ceased to be capable of penetrative sex for a whole year. On the other hand you are a sprightly 55 but looking not a day more than 45. You must be having desires that you are most certainly suppressing. Here’s a rare chance fallen from heavens to your lap. A virile youngster in his forties has made the offer. Not a local lad who can become a nuisance but one you might never see again. To spurn it would be stupid. You will regret it and I will regret it. Yes I will regret it for I am no dog in the manger.”

“So you want me to sin?”

“If it is not sin for Abraham and Sarah and the rest of them it cannot be sin for you.”

“So I can break the rules of Christian living with impunity?”

“Rules Sarah, are made to keep out the fools. Christian clergy from the Pope downwards have and are regularly breaking the particular rule you are referring to. As you see from reports in the papers paedophilia, homosexuality and other misdemeanours are widespread among the clergy. Please take it from me it is the tip of the iceberg. Lesbianism too, though it does not figure in the reports. Don’t bother about these rules. The biblical scholar who has made the offer knows more about it than you or I. But your conduct stands out like a beacon. Your wanting to ask your husband is an extraordinary act of honesty that unfortunately I cannot place on record. Your husband has readily agreed. Go ahead. But before that we have to work out the modalities.”


“Where?” he said. I had not thought of that. “Not his guest house room. That is smack in the middle of the church compound teeming with prying eyes. Hotel rooms? Not a good idea. Your friends of the YWCA and various church groups never stay at home. In their wanderings one just has to see you with him and our name will be mud.”


“Our home of course.”


“While I am in residence.”

“When you are here? Simon this is too rich.”

“Think of the neighbours and our watchman. There is no choice. He comes for lunch or dinner and stays on. He brings his bible and at least one volume of commentaries. That will be the alibi. He has the meal and then we play by the ear.”

“Play by the ear?”

“I suppose that is how it will be unless you have already got the script finalized.”

“I have got no script,” I said heatedly. “Why that smile.”

“I wondered if we should ask him to bring a couple or more of Trojans.”

“What are Trojans?”

“Condoms,” I sat down plonk on the sofa and stared at my husband with eyes widely open. For the first time the nitty-gritty of making out confronted me and I was feeling uncomfortable in the pit of my stomach. I however collected my wits together and spoke I hope with assurance.

“Why do you call them Trojans?

“It is a popular American brand.”

“It may not be available here.”

“It is not. Not in my time anyway. He must be having some with him.”

“You mean he takes condoms along when he goes on bible study tours.”

“No doubt at all. In every one of the places where he spreads the Word he also selects one or two from his class for special coaching.”

“You are mean Simon. I don’t think he is that type.”

“I may be wrong and you may be right. I don’t know him and you do. Anyway he is our guest and it is not proper to mention Trojans. He will rightly feel that we are teasing him. I will get the condoms. ‘Sultans’ is the brand you used to prefer. I don’t know if they are still available in Burma bazaar. In case I don’t I can get ‘Moods’ that gets so much commercial exposure on TV nowadays.

Later that evening Simon was at his computer when I took him his evening tea.

“Sorry darling, I behaved like a beast. I do not know what got into me that I should harbour such thoughts.”

“What thoughts.”

“About making out with another man. It was not like me to do that.”

“I do not find anything wrong with it.”

“But it is wrong.”

“Liz darling even thinking is wrong, and you have been thinking about him quite a lot. You have already sinned. Making out is not going to make it any worse. On the other hand it may help you get out of the infatuation. And from there you can move on. Have you called him?”

“Not yet.”

“Call him. I do not know if he will come but if he does we’ll serve him lunch and after that proceed as our moods lead us. Nothing is lost in his coming. I can at least get to know someone who according to you has the Holy Spirit in him.”

“It’s like you to make a nice speech and at the end spoil it by adding a cynical rider.”

“Pardon me. Take the Holy Spirit part as unsaid. Call him. Let me know what he says.”

As usual Simon was able kaçak iddaa to talk me out of my misgivings. I called him. He seemed to understand our reasoning. He said he would come the day after. I checked with Simon and said it suited us.”


I was jittery for the next two days. The morning of the visit I was calmer. Simon of course was his usual self. His colleagues used to say that he will be the same even on the morning of his execution.

“Liz are your preparations over?’

“Lunch is ready. I know what he likes and I have prepared them.”

“What is the dessert?”

“Ice cream and hot gulab jamun.”

“Good. Your personal preparations?”

“Personal preparations?”

“Dress for example. I will be in my lungi with nothing underneath.”

“Skirt and blouse.”

“Shirt is OK but not blouse.”

“Then what.”

“Thin T-shirt and of course no bra and knickers.”

What do you mean no bra and knickers?”

“Makes sense, Liz. You don’t make out in full armour. And what about that?”

“What that?”

“Shave for example.”

“Leave those to me my darling husband.” I was snappy.

“No need to get angry my precious. I asked in the hope that you will ask me the same question.”

“OK, what’s your preparation?”


I did not whether to laugh or cry.

“The more I know you the more you confuse me my husband,” I said.

“If it works I may use it more often.”

I left the room. When he is such a mood my husband can be quite annoying. Later that night Simon told me not to act surprised when he did something that he would not normally do in the presence of strangers.

“Like what?” I asked.

“Well I may do things that may impinge on your modesty.”

“Expose me?”

‘Making out has to involve that and who better to do that than the husband.”

I did not comment. What is there to comment? Once in the make out mode one has to reset modesty markers. One thing was certain Simon was thoroughly in it.


Tom came promptly. I was anxious when I introduced him to my husband. Simon takes a liking to some, is neutral with some, and dislikes some. If there is a formula behind these likes and dislikes it has so far eluded me. I was glad to note that he took a liking to Tom.

Tom knew that we do not serve hard drinks and though he likes beer he had to manage with fresh lime. I left them to their devices and got busy getting lunch ready. I had asked Simon to steer clear of the bible. His views especially the Old Testament can annoy believers. They seem to be having a good time talking of various topics. Soon I announced lunch. The meal went off splendidly.

We have air conditioning only in the bedroom. The plan was to withdraw to the bedroom after lunch. I was to serve dessert in the bedroom. We withdrew to the bedroom. Simon arranged the conditioner to low. I did not ask for I knew what his answer would be.

Tom wore shorts and loose T shirt.

“Tom,” said my husband, “I suggest that you change to lungi just like me. You know how to wear lungi.” Tom it appeared wore only that in his room.

“My constant worry is that it will come off,” said Tom.

“Considering the purpose of your visit that should not be a problem today,” said my husband. As one can expect a pregnant silence followed this statement. My husband is famous of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but at least on this occasion the timing was not widely off.

“Liz you can’t be in a cumbersome sari when we men are dressed for comfort. I suggest that you change too.” I slipped out of the room. I removed my sari and skirt. I re-examined my vulva. I ran my hand over it. I had done a smooth job. I pulled up the red and black shirt I had chosen for the occasion. It was thin cotton but not transparent. I removed my blouse and bra. The T-shirt I had chosen, of matching colour of course, was loose; it came up to my hips. In other words if I remove the shirt my vulva will be exposed. I wondered if I was a born slut to think of these details.

The men were laughing apparently at some joke. Must be my husband’s. Tom as befits a biblical scholar though capable of proper biblical humour was not one for boisterous humour. But one can never say especially in one as two-faced as Tom has proved to be. When I came in my husband gave a wolf whistle. I tapped him on the head and he responded with a tap on my buttocks with the full palm of his hand. Tom was in a colourful lungi that I once presented to Simon that he rarely wears. Too splashy he says. I asked them if they were ready for the dessert. They were. Soon the only sound heard was the occasional clash of spoons on porcelain. Tom like my husband had a sweet tooth. They had second helpings. Tom was much appreciative of ice cream served with hot jamuns. This was his first encounter with steaming hot and ice cold dessert.

I took away the cups. The men offered to help but I requested them not to mess with my kitchen. I of course had given the afternoon off to my maid. She was to come early kaçak bahis next morning to do the dishes. As I returned to the room I wondered not only when the game will start but what game it would be. Who must get the ball rolling for whatever the game it is going to be a ball game. I smiled. Even in that tense moment I could see the funny side of our adventure. Certainly I cannot make the first move Not Tom either though anyone capable of visiting a married couple with the stated purpose of making out with the wife must be one capable of almost anything. No, Simon it must be and Simon it was.

Simon had cleared his table of his laptop and clutter that goes with it. He sat with the glitter in his eyes that I did not like. I know from experience that some bizarre action was in the offing. I stood by his side talking to Tom. Simon pushed his wheeled office chair close to me and wrapped an arm round my hips. I thereupon lovingly tousled his hair. Except for a bald patch at the back he has a generous curly mop. He then rested his head on my waist and I cradled his cheek. It was a tender husband-wife moment and set the pace for what was to follow.

He pulled me down and made me sit somewhat precariously on the hand rest of the chair. He had one hand round my waist. He inserted the other hand under my T-shirt and fondled me.

“Tom,” said my husband, “please use my camera on the bed and take photographs and clips. You have license to come even between us to get the proper shots.” Tom took up the task with apparent enthusiasm.

“The T-shirt is obstructing,” said Tom. I removed the offending item in one swift movement. I was now bare-chested before the men. I felt no shame. On the other it made me tingle all over. My husband was now sucking and I was helpfully holding up the breast as if he was my baby. Tom was taking close up picture of the event.

“The skirt is obstructing,” said Tom. Even as one hand of my husband was fondling the other was pulling the cord of my skirt. Soon it was loose. I stood and let it drop. I was now naked before Tom. This was the first occasion I have been so before anyone other than my husband. I asked Tom to take picture of me in the nude in various angles. He was obviously an expert with the camera. He took this way and that even lay on his back on the floor and took a picture of my spread vulva from below. It was a thrilling experience. Unknown to me I must be an exhibitionist.

I pulled off Simon’s lungi and exclaimed ‘Wow’ for his penis was in its Viagra induced magnificence. I gripped it and bending down I kissed the rose as Tom’s flashed. I stood with back against the table edge. Simon pulled a small stool and sat on it. He first kissed my vulva and then he licked. I had to spread and that was not possible standing. Tom understood the need and he held my thigh and moved it laterally till in his expert judgement he had spread the vulva to the optimum extent. He had the camera in his other hand in an angle that was perfect. The clip showed in sharp detail Simon’s tongue flicking over my clitoris. My husband did expertly till I climaxed. I placed a pillow on the table edge and sat up and spread my thighs wide as if I was a seasoned porn artist giving the photographer the best view. Tom’s zoom view showed the penis moving in slowly splitting the vulval lips and entering the vagina. We have had many unions on that table hence we knew the routine. We embraced and the most unusual setting pumped us to such an extent that soon our pelvises were moving to a rapid beat and then the massive climax. My ever thoughtful husband gave me two more.

We lay on the sofa exhausted. We got up and washed. I came out still naked. Tom sat on a chair. I stood before him and smiled. I took the camera from his hand placed it on the cot. I did not want what was to happen next in the disc. I bent down and resting my hands on the chair’s arm rest I reached for his lips. We kissed. I looked down. By breasts were hanging like ripe mangoes. I took one hand of Tom and placed it on one breast and did the same with the other. He softly and gently kneaded by breasts and plucked the nipples. Then I removed one hand of Tom and brought it to my vulva. He rubbed and tickled my clitoris. Coming closer I spread my thighs and thrust my vulva forwards inviting a kiss. He kissed my cleft and then with his tongue flicked the clitoris. I then withdrew. I went into my bathroom and took a hurried bath. I put on my blouse and draped a sari and case out. Thereby I signalled that the making out session was over,

I served tea. Tom took leave and our parting kiss was a pelvis grinding one that lasted a while. He opened the door just enough to slip out. I turned and hugged my husband.

“I am ready are you,” I said.

“I am at your service,” he said with mock formality. This time it was on the bed.

We were tired. We slept for an hour.

Simon downloaded the images in the camera to his laptop. Tom’s camera work was amazing. It was a continuous recording some as photos, some as short clips and some as long clips. Every detail was perfect with regard to angle, lighting and zoom. We sat and watched. It was erotic in the extreme. I wondered why porn films are not like this but just strenuous work outs more proper to gyms.

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