HOLY SEX Episode 16
Thank you for choosing Siri as your online beautiful sweet story reading partner. Today we have “Holy Sex Episode 16 Of Holy Sex Stories Or Novels To Read with Siri.”
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Pastor Zainab recoils visibly when she heard the pastor call you Dami. You are surprised too.
“God is my judge, Sir. God knows that I am trying my best, Sir. She thinks that I am here to seduce you, Sir.” you blurt out. Your words surprise you even. You wonder what the pastor will say now.
“Oh, Pastor Zainab, how could you say a thing like that to her? How could you even conceive that in your mind?” he stares at both of you. “Now, Pastor Zainab get into the car. Sister Damilola, continue with your work. God is your strength, and He alone will bless you abundantly.” As they zoom off, you are sure that you saw the pastor’s hand go under the female pastor’s skirt. You are very sure.
As you walk home, you know that if Zainab could work her way into the pastor’s heart and be ordained a pastor of Saving Grace Incorporated, you would work your way into his heart too.
One of those evenings when it is drizzling in Lagos, around 5.30pm, you ring your pastor’s phone. He answers.
“Sir, this is Damilola.”
He hesitates for some time and says; “I know. Before you called I knew you were going to call. What can the Lord do for you, Sister?”
You are surprised. Then you begin to wonder whether you are on the right track. You wonder if all the rumors you’d heard are true. You wonder if you are about to make a costly mistake.
“Pastor, I wonder if I can see you. If I… it may not be today. But I want to see you for a private prayer.” He is silent for some time. Then he says: “Private prayer? Sister, what is the problem?”
You are silent. He is patiently listening and waiting for you to talk. “Pastor. It is about marriage. I am thirty-seven, and no man is asking me if I am buying or selling.”
“Hmmm, where are you?”
Your heart skips. “In my apartment.”
“You will need a very special private prayer. Perhaps next Wednesday, or any other day.” You feel disappointed. You thought he would say he wanted to come. When he drops the call, you fling yourself on your bed and hit your pillow. You feel frustrated and tired.
That night you dream of him praying for you, his hand on your head and his lips caressing your neck and your ears.
So two days later, when your phone rings around 10pm and you see the caller’s name, sleep vacates your eyes. You find yourself calling out your address to the caller. You find yourself re-dressing your bed, sweeping out dust from your rug, spraying air-refresher in your room and putting on your air-conditioner even though it is drizzling and cold.
When he steps into your apartment, he says: “Your room smells good, Dami.”
“Thank you, Pastor.”
“No, you must call me Samuel.”
“Yes, Samuel.” As soon as he drops his bible on your bed and wants to sit on the only plastic chair in the large room, you grab him and draw him close to you and cover his large lips with yours. You push him to the bed and cover his face with your kisses, and it does not surprise you that he responds so easily and yearningly. His hand finds your breasts under the silky short gown you are wearing and squeezes them in a way that no one had done before. He turns and rests on top of you, using his lips to caress your nipples and just then you call out.
“Jesus… Jesus….”
TO Be Continued
