Bringing Her Bliss

For the second Sunday in a row, Celia refused to bow her head and pray in church.

I, on the other hand, tried to maintain the appearance of a God-fearing Christian, so my eyes were closed and my head dutifully bowed until shuffling and whispers made me glance over at the family beside me on the pew.

One of her parents had noticed Celia's raised head and defiant stare fixed on the stained glass window behind the preacher's pulpit. Now her mother leaned toward Celia, whispering urgently in her ear. Celia's father, Cal, simply glared at the girl, his eyes flashing a promise of later punishment.

I observed all this with detached bemusement. Shifting on the pew, I wanted to tell Dana, Celia's mother, that she and Cal were drawing far more attention to their daughter than the girl herself had, but it wasn't my place.

Dana was my late wife's cousin. Since I had no family of my own around these parts, Dana had taken me in like a stray, inviting me to sit with her family at church and asking me over to Sunday dinners. This had gone on for ten years now, since I was first widowed.

Being fairly close to the family, I could understand Celia's desire for autonomy. She'd turned eighteen months ago and had graduated high school in early June. I knew she was aching to wriggle out from under her father's thumb, and I couldn't blame her. He'd always been too overbearing and authoritative.

Once Dana and Cal realized they were drawing the stares of other churchgoers, they turned their attention from Celia and grew quiet. Celia remained composed and unmoving.

It wasn't until the service ended and we were walking across the parking lot that Cal stepped in front of Celia, blocking her path. "While you're living under my roof, you will show respect to me and our church," he growled, gripping her delicate wrist. Celia stared up at him, her eyes flashing; if he was hurting her, she refused to let on.

"Cal," Dana said under her breath, "this can wait until we get home."

Celia jerked away from her father. "I'll walk home," she said, then turned on her heel and started toward the road. Though her house was miles from the church, I knew the girl was stubborn enough to do it in the flimsy sandals she wore, tearing up her feet in the process.

"Get in the car, Celia," Cal barked, and several people turned to stare at him.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him. "I'll give her a ride," I said. "She just needs a chance to cool off."

Dana gave me a grateful smile. "Thank you, Wyatt. Maybe she'll listen to you; the good Lord knows she doesn't pay any heed to what her father and I tell her."

I hurried to my car, unwilling to let Celia get too far down the road. Pulling out of the lot, I spotted the filmy rose-colored dress she wore. The sun shone right through it, illuminating her narrow hips.

When I pulled up beside her, she gave me a perfunctory glance but kept walking.

"Get in the car," I said, coasting alongside her with the passenger window rolled down. "I'll give you a ride home."

"No," Celia replied, staring ahead. She folded her arms over her chest, and I gritted my teeth at her determination to be a pain in the ass.

"Celia, get in the goddamn car." Vehicles were backing up on the road behind me, and I knew even charitable Christians had limits to their patience.

My sharp tone got Celia's attention, and she stopped to regard me with a raised eyebrow. "It's the Lord's Day, Wyatt, and you're taking his name in vain."

I said nothing, just waited. Celia sighed, then yanked open the passenger door and slid inside the car. I accelerated faster than I normally would have, feeling guilty about holding up traffic.

We didn't speak for a while, but when we passed the road that would take us to her house, Celia looked over at me. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"For a drive." I glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed the lines around my blue eyes. I still had a head full of dark wavy hair, but my hairline was slowly receding. Age was having its way with me, the same as it did with everyone, and I found myself wondering how I looked through Celia's eyes.

I gave Celia a quick look to see if she would argue about this change of plans, but she simply leaned back against the seat. Her face was thin with sharp, angular features that made her look older than her years. She was tall with long legs, all knees and elbows, reminding me of a spirited filly.

I remembered when Celia turned eighteen in March, and I gave her a birthday card with a hundred dollar bill tucked inside. Her eyes had lit up when she saw that money even as her parents protested that it was too much. Then she threw her arms around me in thanks, and I could still recall her soft lips pressed against my cheek.

For her high school graduation, I gave her more money, and she thanked me, her eyes warm. "This is going right into my savings account," she assured me.

"That's a smart girl," I said, "but you can spend a little of it. Buy yourself something nice."

Celia shook her head. "I'll need every penny when I move out."

Now I decided I'd make an effort to ease the tension between her and her parents. "What's going on, Celia?" I asked. "Why have you decided to become a rebel in church now? You know you're pushing Cal's buttons."

She sighed again and tucked one leg beneath her. "Maybe I've done some soul searching and can't be dishonest with myself anymore. Why is that a problem, anyway? Shouldn't I be allowed to think for myself? I mean, if God truly demands my complete obedience, he wouldn't have given me the capacity for doubt."

Despite my regular church attendance, I wasn't schooled in Christian apologetics. Besides, I wasn't interested in changing her mind; I just wanted her to get along with her parents. "You've been talking about moving out a lot," I said, trying to steer the conversation to more neutral territory.

"You know I've been working since I was sixteen, and I've saved every penny I could. I'm going to get out of this town and move to the city with my best friend. We can rent a cheap apartment, and I'll keep working while going to school."

"What will you study?" I asked, glancing over at her.

She stared out at the passing scenery, the breeze from the open window whipping her dark red hair around her face. "I'm going to be a dental hygienist."

"You've got it all figured out then."

She shrugged. "Not all of it, but the next few years or so. Who knows what will happen after that?"

"When are you leaving?" I asked. The thought of Celia's absence from this town was strange to me. I'd watched her grow up and become a young woman, and I didn't realize how much I'd always looked forward to her witty banter on Sundays until I imagined her gone. I would miss that sardonic smile of hers.

"August," she said. "My friend and I have found a place to rent, but it won't be vacant until then. In the meantime, my parents are determined to make my life miserable."

I knew that to a young woman her age, two months were interminable, but I longed to tell her that when she was in her early forties, like I was, time would be fleeting, and it would grow even more so as the years passed.

I pulled off the two-lane road onto a gravel drive with heavy woods on either side. The lane meandered for a couple of miles before ending at a small field with a view of the hills, lush green in the summertime. A wooden picnic table stood at the edge of the field. It was worn and weather-beaten, long forgotten. Distant clouds approached from the west.

"This is a nice place," Celia said, gazing out the windshield. "I never knew it was back here."

"After Sadie died, I drove around a lot just to pass the time and get myself out of the house," I said. "I found this place by accident."

She nodded but made no move to leave the car. We sat in silence, listening to the wind work its way through the trees around us. Finally I took a breath and spoke. "As you get older, Celia, you'll realize that you need to pick your battles. Some wars aren't worth fighting."

Her expression was one of outrage as she turned to face me. "You think that my convictions aren't worth fighting for?"

I ran a hand through my hair as I stared out at the field, trying to think of a way to make her see reason. "All you're doing is making things harder for yourself. You said you have to live with your parents until August. Part of the conditions of you staying there is that you attend church and act respectful."

Celia picked at some old polish on her thumbnail. "Maybe I should live with you till August, Wyatt."

I gaped at her, waiting to spot the smile that would tell me she was joking, but she only met my stare and shrugged.

"Sure, Celia," I finally said. "That's a great idea. It would certainly get tongues wagging around town."

"Oh, come on," she argued, resting a hand on my shoulder. "You're a friend of my family, and I'm a hardheaded young woman, dangerously close to straying from the righteous path. People would consider you a saint for guiding me. I could clean your house and cook your meals." Now she grinned. "And I could service you in other ways..."

I felt my pulse surge, and a shocked laugh escaped me. Celia was toying with me, I told myself. This was her idea of fun. But that realization didn't prevent my body from responding to her suggestive tone.

"Let's get out and walk a bit," I said. The car suddenly felt too close, too confining.

We walked side by side through the field at a leisurely pace. I was still reeling from what she'd said in the car, and I was trying to sort out my thoughts when Celia stopped and turned to me. "You're one of the few people around here that I'm going to miss," she said.

I grinned at her. "Is that so? Even if I'm rapidly approaching middle age and am hopelessly out of touch?"

"Even so."

I turned my back to her so I could look out at the hills. As the wind ruffled my hair, I heard Celia approach me from behind. When she slipped her arms around my waist, I started at the sudden contact.

"Jumpy," she teased.

I didn't dare look over my shoulder at her. "What are you doing?" I asked as her embrace tightened.

"Exploring." Celia's hands coasted over my chest and stomach.

Celia," I said.

"Yep?" Her tone was casual, as if this was a normal occurrence between us.

"You should stop." I didn't want her to stop. The heat of her palms soaked through my shirt and warmed my skin.

Her hand moved lower, dangerously close to my groin. "Why should I stop?"

I knew I should turn around and put some distance between us, but her touch left me weak, and I found myself leaning back against her, certain she could hear me breathing faster.

Celia took my lack of protest as acquiescence and cupped her hand against my crotch. "You're already excited," she whispered, and my muscles tensed. "It's okay," she hurriedly went on. "I am, too."

She stroked me through my pants, and I was all too aware of her breasts pressed against my back. I hardened even more beneath her fingers.

An instant of clarity sliced through my arousal, and I quickly turned toward her, escaping her caress. Celia didn't give me a chance to speak; instead, she kissed me, and I felt her lips, warm and slightly chapped, on mine.

We were both breathing hard when I broke the kiss and grabbed her shoulders. "Celia." I stared down at her, hoping I appeared stern. "I know what you're doing."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"You're coming on to me because you think it's another way to rebel against your parents."

Celia snickered. "You'd make a sorry shrink, Wyatt. My parents will never know about this, so how would it be an act of rebellion on my part? I'm coming on to you because I want to fuck you. Simple as that."

Her words made my knees buckle, and I longed to go to the picnic table and sit down. It was as if Celia could read my thoughts, for she grabbed my hand and led me there. Yet she was the one who hoisted herself up onto the end of the table.

"Careful," I told her. "You'll get splinters."

She smiled and swung her legs out before her. "Take off my shoes," she said. I stood a few feet from her, uncertain even as she held out her foot and looked at me expectantly.

I hesitated a moment and then took her left ankle in my hands. She watched as I worked the sandal off of her foot. "Just think of the blisters you would have gotten if you'd walked all the way home." I longed to bring that foot to my mouth and give it a gentle kiss, but I went on with removing her other sandal.

"Now kiss me," she said. My head snapped up so I could stare at her in disbelief, but she just nodded.

I cupped a hand to the back of her head and drew her mouth to mine. Our kiss was wet and hard, and she caught my bottom lip between her teeth and gave it a teasing nip. I pulled back to study her face, but she simply grinned and let her knees fall apart. As she wrapped her legs around my hips, drawing me closer, her dress rode up her thighs. I couldn't help stroking that pale skin above her knee.

Celia kissed me again, her tongue darting into my mouth. I welcomed it with a moan, and she lifted her fingers to the buttons on the front of her dress. My pulse, already a persistent rapid beat in my throat, grew even faster as she opened her dress to reveal a pale pink bra.

"Celia," I whispered, and her name was a plea and a warning.

She slipped her arms out of the dress sleeves so that the bodice fell around her waist. Then she tugged down her bra, displaying her breasts to me. Her small nipples were a slightly darker pink than the bra that had covered them.

I slid my hands over her breasts, feeling the nipples harden against my palms. Celia moaned and leaned back, bracing herself against the picnic table. "That feels really good," she gasped, gazing down at my fingers gently tweaking her flesh.

I lowered my head and took her right breast in my mouth, feeling her nipple swell against my tongue. Her legs gripped me even tighter, and I could feel the heat between her thighs through my pants. She wove her fingers into my hair, holding me to her as her moans grew louder. "Wyatt," she cried, "don't stop."

Celia didn't have to worry; I was too weak with my own wanting to stop now. I trailed my fingers along her inner thigh, raising her dress higher until I caught a glimpse of her panties, the same color as her bra. I slipped a hand beneath the fabric and gasped when I felt how wet she was. Her juices dampened the curls covering her outer lips. My fingers continued their desperate search until I was exploring her inner folds, so hot and slick.

More clouds darkened the sky, threatening rain, but neither of us cared. Celia fell back against the table and writhed against it while I rubbed her swollen clit. Her eyes were closed, and she bit her lip as if in deep concentration. I watched her face closely, making sure I was pleasing her, and then her hips began rocking as if to assure me I was.

"Use your mouth," Celia pleaded, and I drew in a sharp breath at her request. She opened her eyes and looked up at me, and I saw the challenge in her stare.

"Are you sure?" I asked, still making circles around her clit.

Celia nodded. "I want to feel your tongue... right there."

I knelt on the grass before her, feeling as though I was worshiping at some pagan altar. She lifted her hips so I could take off her panties, and then she scooted even closer to the edge of the table, giving my mouth easy access to her cunt.

I took my time, gently kissing her inner thighs and breathing in her scent. It was so alluring, it made my mouth water. Finally I pressed my face against her.

God, it had been so long for me, and as I spread the lips of her cunt wide with my fingers, I opened my mouth and licked her juices, making her wait before homing in on her clit.

Then Celia started to beg. "Please, please lick me there," she whimpered. "Don't tease me, Wyatt. Suck my clit."

I couldn't have resisted her pleas if I wanted to. And I didn't want to. I used the tip of my tongue to stroke that sensitive peak of flesh, and she lifted herself up to watch me pleasure her. I wondered how many partners she'd had, for she was so comfortable with her body and her lust that it made my cock ache to be inside her.

Celia grabbed my hair and pressed my mouth even harder against her dripping pussy. I was relentless in licking her clit, urged on by her demands for me to continue. As she rolled her hips, I explored her cunt with my index finger. "Yes, yes, like that!" she shrieked as I finger fucked her and lashed her clit with my tongue.

Celia released a shocked gasp, the way I imagined she would sound if she stepped into an ice cold stream. Then she began spasming and rolling on the picnic table, and I grabbed her hips before she toppled off. I let her come hard against my face, and even as her shuddering subsided, I still flicked my tongue over her clit until she cried, "Enough! Too sensitive..."

I grinned and stood, licking my lips. Celia lay before me, not bothering to cover herself as she drew in deep breaths. Her gaze traveled over my body, and she spotted the bulge in my pants. I cleared my throat and turned away, feeling helpless in my arousal.

"Give me a minute to, uh, take care of this," I said, and before she could speak, I unzipped my pants and took out my throbbing cock. Closing my eyes, I began stroking, smearing pre-cum down my shaft, hoping I could climax quickly.

"Come here," Celia said.

I stopped jerking off and looked over my shoulder at her. She sat up, her legs still spread wide, and beckoned to me.

I turned and let her see my cock, the way it pulsed with its own life, the skin flushed crimson.

"Closer," she said. I moved toward her, near enough so that she could touch me if she wanted. "I'm not leaving you in this state." She stared at my cock, then raised her head to gaze up at me. "I'd let you fuck me right here on this table, but I don't have a condom with me. Didn't think I'd need it at church."

I laughed and shook my head before giving her a deep kiss. She kissed me back, her tongue grazing mine, and then she reached between her thighs. At first, I thought she was going to masturbate, but then she raised her hand so I could see that her fingers were coated with her fluids.

Celia wrapped those wet fingers around my cock, and my breath caught in my chest. Along with my pre-cum, her juices made an excellent lubricant, and she gently massaged the head of my cock before taking me in her fist and stroking.

I let my head fall back and groaned. "Fuck yes, Celia, just like that."

She continued working her hand up and down my shaft, giving special attention to the underside of my cock. With her free hand, she cupped my balls and squeezed them ever so gently, watching for my reaction. I nodded to let her know how amazing her touch felt.

"I'm gonna come," I warned her through clenched teeth, but she didn't stop. Her breath was fast, just like mine, and as our eyes met, I succumbed to my orgasm with a loud cry.

Semen spurted from my cock, spattering Celia's bare thighs and dotting the picnic table. She let out a shuddering sigh as she watched me climax.

I placed a hand on either side of her, leaning against the picnic table. She was so close to me, I could smell her sex, and the sight of my cum on her skin made my face redden. I hurriedly wiped it away with my shirt sleeve.

"It's okay," she assured me. "More than okay. I loved it."

I didn't know what to say; I felt utterly lost. So I kissed her, relieved for the silence that brought. Celia didn't seem to need any explanation from me. When we pulled apart and I stepped back from her, she hopped off the table, and we went about straightening our clothes. The first drops of rain began to fall as we made our way back to my car.

The sky broke open above us as I drove down the gravel lane. Before we reached the paved road, Celia rested a hand on my thigh, and I drew the car to a stop. "Kiss me again," she whispered, and I gladly obliged her. When she finally pulled away, a grin played at her mouth. "You're going to need a shower," she told me. "I smell my pussy all over you."

My eyes widened. "Jesus, Celia, you have a filthy mouth," I said, but she just laughed at my shock.

When I pulled into her driveway, Celia unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to me. "Don't feel guilty about this," she said, poking me in the chest. "I sure as hell won't."

I could only shake my head. How did she know that the guilt was already gnawing away at me? How could she give me a quick kiss on the cheek and then leap out of my car, taking off through the rain as if she didn't have a care in the world?

And how would we manage to sit together at church next Sunday and pretend nothing had happened between us?

***

A few days after my encounter with Celia, a timid knock sounded on my door, so faint I at first thought I imagined it. But then my unknown visitor knocked again, and I went to answer it. Glancing at my watch, I found it was half past nine and had no idea who would be stopping by this late in the evening.

I opened the door and found Celia standing on my front porch. The sight of her brought back vivid memories of what we'd shared on Sunday, and I felt my face grow hot. "This is a surprise," I managed to say.

She wore a pale blue blouse and jeans, along with those same old sandals. "I parked down the street and kept out of the lights so none of your nosy neighbors would see me," she said.

"You shouldn't be here, not after what we did," I protested.

Celia hooked her thumbs in her jeans pockets and rocked back on her heels. "I'm leaving soon," she said. "After that, we won't be together much. So let me in."

I opened the door wider and stood back so she could step inside. Celia gazed around my living room, though she'd been in my house numerous times before. "What brings you here?" I asked as I shut the door.

She shrugged. "I was just in the neighborhood, figured I'd say hello."

"Is that right?"

Celia nodded and started toward my kitchen. She paused in the doorway, and I looked past her to see what had caught her attention. It was the model ship I'd been working on since last month, now half-finished on my kitchen table.

"Wow, that's beautiful," Celia said, moving closer to the table and leaning forward to study the ship.

"I work on those when I have some spare time," I told her.

Celia shook her head. "I'd never have the patience for that. All those tiny pieces!" She glanced over her shoulder at me. "You're full of surprises, Wyatt."

"How so?" I shoved my hands in my pants pockets, still lingering in the doorway. "I have a boring job selling insurance, and I have a boring hobby building model ships."

"It's not boring," Celia said. "Well, the selling insurance part is boring, but not this." She gestured to the ship. "And besides, that's not why I'm surprised. I'm surprised because you never gave one of these beauties to me."

I shrugged. "I never thought you'd want one."

"You were wrong." Celia stared at the ship on the table for a few more moments. "In fact, I want this one when it's done."

I couldn't hold back a smile. "Deal. So, would you like a drink?"

She clasped her hands behind her back, looking innocent and beguiling all at once. "Got any wine?"

I snickered. "Yep, but not for you."

Celia rolled her eyes. "So much for a good time. I guess we'll have to find other ways to have fun." She slowly started toward me, and I stood up straighter.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked when she was just inches from me.

She slipped her arms around my neck, and I caught the scent of shampoo and a light perfume. "I want to pick up where we left off in that field."

"That's not a good idea," I said, but I didn't try to extricate myself from her embrace.

"It's a great idea," Celia told me, searching my face. Then she narrowed her eyes. "Ah, are you afraid? You think you're a dirty old man, wanting to pop my cherry? You're too late, Wyatt."

It was a question I had no right to ask, but that didn't stop me. "How many guys have you been with?"

"Just one, soon after I turned eighteen, and he couldn't have found my clit if I'd drawn him a map." I burst out laughing, and Celia joined in. "So imagine how amazing it felt," she went on, "when we were out in that field, and you knew just what to do with your tongue. I bet you know just what to do with your cock, too."

Resisting the urge to kiss her was taking every ounce of will I had. It didn't help that Celia was so sure of herself and of what she wanted. I was older, much older, but she somehow seemed on more certain footing. My stare dropped to her parted lips, which now curved into a sweet smile.

"You won't stop me from kissing you," she said, and all I could do was shake my head.

Celia cupped my face in her hands and brought my mouth to hers. It was a gentle kiss, belying the yearning we had for each other. Her tongue slipped between my lips, and I moaned before abruptly pulling away. "I can't keep telling you no," I whispered.

She grinned and reached into her back pocket. Then she held up the condom for me to see. "Good, because I came prepared this time."

"Celia," I breathed, weak at the thought of making love to her.

Wordlessly she took my hand and led me down the hall to the bedroom, as if this was her house, and I was her guest. I was happy to let her take control, but when we stepped into my room, lit by the soft glow of a lamp, I froze.

Celia didn't try to persuade me that we weren't making a mistake. Instead, she kicked off her sandals and unzipped her jeans. I watched as she slid them down her long legs and stepped out of them. Then she raised her eyebrows at me. "Are you going to do this fully clothed?" she asked. "I mean, that's okay, but I'm getting naked, and honestly, I'd like to see your body."

The girl actually made me blush, and I ducked my head, trying to hide my smile. "My God, Celia, you are something else."

"Does that mean you'll take off your clothes?"

In response, I unbuttoned my shirt, and Celia's expression was nothing short of triumphant as she pulled her blouse over her head. With little fanfare, she removed her bra and panties until she stood nude before me. I hurriedly finished undressing, and she bit her lower lip when she saw my cock, already erect.

Celia stretched out on my bed, and the light from the lamp on the nightstand threw shadows on her skin. I stood at the edge of the bed and took her feet in my hands, studying her unpolished toenails as I rubbed the soles. Celia moaned in pleasure.

"You have all kinds of hidden talents," she said with a soft laugh.

I lifted her foot to my mouth so I could suck and lick her toes. Celia giggled as if she was ticklish, and then she slid her feet over my chest and down my belly before wrapping them around my cock.

"Oh, Christ," I sighed.

"You have a thing for feet, huh?" she murmured.

"Maybe a little," I panted, staring down at her feet sliding back and forth on either side of my dick.

"Does that feel good?" Celia asked.

"Incredible." Pre-cum flowed from the head of my cock. As Celia continued working magic with her smooth, soft feet, she played with her nipples, twisting them between her fingers. Then she slid her legs around me and hooked her ankles behind my back, drawing me to her. I went willingly, and she spread her legs wide so I could lie between them.

I took my time kissing her mouth and closed eyelids and the tip of her nose. My lips moved to her neck, and I tasted her skin with my tongue. She moaned when my mouth latched on to her left nipple. If she'd let me do no more than this, I would have considered it a gift.

Yet Celia wanted me to do more. Her hair spilled over her shoulders as she looked down at me. "Wyatt, I need to feel you inside me," she said.

I met her gaze and felt the muscles of my back grow rigid beneath her palms. "Now? You don't want me to..." I'd planned to feast on her pussy again, but she reached between us to touch herself. Then she brought her wet fingers to my mouth and worked them between my lips.

"See how wet I am? I'm ready," Celia told me. Then she took the condom from its wrapper and put it on my stiff cock. I twitched and moaned when her fingers slid over my flesh. "Oh, you're ready too," she said. As she lay back against my pillow, I took hold of my cock and coated it with her fluids.

Celia whimpered as I began to enter her, and I paused, making sure she was okay. She must have seen the question in my eyes, because she nodded and said, "Keep going."

I was gentle, moving slowly until my cock was all the way inside her pussy, and Celia let out a breath I hadn't realized she was holding. "You feel really good," she said, smiling up at me. "Thanks for going easy at first."

I gave her a tender kiss. "Of course, baby," I said. "We'll go at the pace you like, okay?" Even as I spoke, my voice was strained with the effort to keep still and not thrust.

Celia nodded again. "Faster now," she told me, her smile widening.

I could hear how wet she was as I thrust inside her. That hot velvety grip around my cock was enough to make me cry out. A deep flush spread across her chest and up her neck to heat her face as I fucked her, and I had to close my eyes for a second; the sight of her so excited brought me right to the edge, and I was determined to make her come first.

Celia stretched like a cat, pressing her palms against the headboard of the bed, elongating her body and giving me a stunning view of the way her breasts bounced in time with my thrusts. Her breathing grew uneven, accentuated by moans. "I'm almost there," she panted. "Keep fucking me, just like that!"

My pace quickened, and I felt sweat dampen my forehead. Celia let out a yelp and then began shuddering. I recognized those spasms, having seen her orgasm before, but feeling her muscles squeeze my cock made me surrender all control and pump fast between her thighs. My balls tightened, and I came with a sharp gasp as she writhed beneath me.

Celia held me to her, and I reluctantly pulled out of her warm cunt, which still contracted from the force of her climax. As I rested my head on her chest, she stroked my hair, and it was so relaxing being in her arms that I dozed.

"Why didn't you ever get married again, Wyatt?" Celia asked softly, and I opened my eyes. "You obviously miss the companionship of a woman."

I sighed and brushed a fingertip over her nipple, making it harden. "I loved Sadie—I really did. We were married over ten years, and we thought we'd start a family after we settled down here. She was heartbroken when she found out she couldn't have k**s. That pain made her pull away from me. She grew distant years before she got sick, and then I lost her for good." I lifted my head and looked up at Celia. "Can you blame me for not wanting to go through all that again with someone new?"

"But it would be different with someone new," Celia said.

I shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I'd just be taking on an entirely new set of problems."

Celia raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're practical if nothing else."

I propped myself up on my elbows and gazed into her eyes. "I bet you can be practical too, when you want to be. So in church next Sunday, can't you just... pretend to believe?"

Celia shook her head in disgust. "You mean lie? Because that's what I'd be doing if I just went through the motions."

I traced my lips over her cheekbone. "I understand that. But I'd like you to do something for me."

She gave me a wary look. "What?"

"The next time we're in church, and the pastor instructs us to bow our heads and pray, I just want you to close your eyes. You don't have to bow your head, or even listen to the prayer, but I want you, at that moment, to imagine the way it feels when I'm inside you."

Celia's eyes widened, and for a moment, she was speechless, but then she grinned. "That's quite a sinful request, Wyatt."

"Maybe so," I replied, "but I'll risk God's wrath."

***

The following Sunday when we sat in church and were instructed to pray, I bowed my head but looked over at Celia. I noticed that her parents were studying her as well.

Celia closed her eyes. As the pastor droned on in prayer, her lips parted, and their edges curled upward into a soft smile. Her chest rose and fell as her breathing grew faster, and her breasts strained against the fabric of her blouse.

Her parents let out sighs of relief, for their wayward daughter had returned to the fold.

I couldn't look away from Celia. As I watched her eyes move quickly behind her lids, I felt arousal for her stir deep in my belly and I smiled, knowing I alone was responsible for that expression of bliss on her face.