Pastor’s Wife Shared with the Church Intern: A First Time Hotwife Story: Megachurch Menage, #1

By Clara Brume

In the eyes of our megachurch, I'm the devoted pastor's wife – the epitome of virtue. I was raised in a sheltered, conservative world, so I'm shocked when my husband confesses his sordid desire to share me with the young, eager church intern.

 

The revelation sparks an insatiable curiosity. I'm consumed with thoughts of the intern's hands on my innocent flesh, tracing paths of pleasure over my body, using me in ways I could never imagine – all under my husband's watchful gaze.

 

But do I have the courage to embrace my darkest impulses? After all, I wore a purity ring and my husband's the only man I've ever been with. This is my story – a daring exploration of the sacred and the profane. A pastor's wife's baptism by fire, an initiation into the life of an unholy hotwife.

 

An explicit first time hotwife erotic tale. Can be read as a standalone story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clara Brume
• Release date: Mar 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224910793

Clara Brume

In an oversaturated market drowning in low-effort and AI-generated content, it can be a challenge finding well-written erotica. That's why, with a background in award-winning journalism, Clara's passion is crafting only the highest quality and hottest erotic stories. Packed full of unforgettable characters, unexpected twists, and irresistibly sexy scenarios – discover Clara's books about horny hotwives today. 

Book preview

Pastor’s Wife Shared with the Church Intern

A First Time Hotwife Story

Clara Brume

Copyright © 2024 Clara Brume

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locations and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Excerpt from Hotwife Seducing the Barista

Excerpt from Astronaut Took My Wife

About the Author

Chapter 1

Istood at the kitchen window, absentmindedly wiping down a countertop, my attention fixed on the church intern washing my Tesla in the driveway. My gaze lingered on him as he worked, his sinewy arms flexing with each movement of the sponge.

Unconsciously I bit my lip. The blazing afternoon seemed to cast a golden glow around the man, glinting off his sweat-slicked skin. As the intern reached across the hood, his t-shirt rode up, revealing a glimpse of taut abdomen. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt a flush of heat across my cheeks. It wasn’t just the sight of his glistening physique; there was something about the way his hands danced over the sleek curves of the vehicle.

The tingle that had developed in my stomach spread toward my groin. I pressed my thighs together, trying to quell the throbbing ache. But the sensation only seemed to intensify.

I closed my eyes, an illicit thought playing at the edge of my mind. No! I shook my head. I was a pastor's wife, a pillar of our evangelical church community. Sinful desires had no place in my heart.

I’m a Proverbs 31 woman, I whispered to myself reciting the Bible passage: A wife of noble character is worth more than rubies. Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.

I opened my eyes. The intern was still there, the trigger-like nozzle of a hose now gripped firmly in his fist. Water gushed out of it in rhythmic bursts, bouncing off the car and soaking his clothing. Abruptly, the man dropped the hose and reached for the hem of his t-shirt, his fingers curling around the damp cotton. My breath caught in my throat, my lips parting in anticipation.

Slowly, he began to peel the shirt upwards, revealing a meaty mountain range of abs and chiseled planes of pecs. The t-shirt caught on his chin, but with a final determined tug, the man freed himself from its grasp. The fabric slipped off his head in one swift motion, the muscles in his arms rippling as he tossed it aside.

Without realizing it, I’d leaned forward, my breath fogging the glass. My hand moved in a hypnotic motion over the kitchen bench, fingers trailing over the surface, like I could feel the heat of his skin.

Suddenly, as if sensing my stare, the young man looked up, his eyes meeting mine. I gasped. Caught in the act, I quickly averted my gaze, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

I fumbled for something to do and pretended to vigorously rub at a mark on the bench. Oh Lord, give me the discernment to fix this, I said out loud. My husband was an associate pastor at one of the largest megachurches in Southern California – I couldn’t