A Boner in Church

A Boner in Church

The time came to stand for the closing hymn and altar call. As usual, I sported a boner in my slacks. I swear it had come on quite unprovoked. Well, that is not entirely true. The pastor caused the train of thought, which led to the embarrassing budge by using the words, Whore and Fornicate in his sermon. I wasn't absolutely sure what those words meant, but they sent my mind into a daydream of lovely girls I knew in real life. Some of the girls are sitting in the very same congregation. Thoughts of girls in their Sunday best dresses, fashionably short over pantyhose clad legs, crowded out the rest of the pastor's Sunday sermon.

The one who made my dick harden most was Dawn. I sat across from her during Bible class earlier in the morning. Her eyes caught mine more than once as I looked her over. She participated in the discussion, and when she added a comment, it allowed me to gaze openly at her. Her long silky hair framed her oval face as it hung down to cover the twin mounds of her breasts. For all the loveliness of her face, it was those breasts that fascinated me most. I longed to see her naked, or topless at least.

Dawn's legs vied with her breasts for attention. As a High school senior, she possessed long, shapely legs. They weren't like those of the younger girls in the class, skinny, almost boney. No, hers looked fuller, round, but sleek and sexy. Best of all, they were covered in light black pantyhose. They were heavenly, and staring at them gave me thoughts that would send me to hell.

Need I mention I sported a boner throughout the lesson?

Anyway, my boner was back, and the time came to stand up for the closing hymn. In the Winter or early Spring, there would not have been a problem. My jacket or coat would've hidden the bulge in my slacks, but today it was too warm even for a sweater.

I sat at the outer end of the front row of chairs. No other people were seated around me, so it was only the pastor, the song leader, and the choir who would be able to see my shame. But only if they looked. I didn't want to be the first to stand or the last, least I call attention to myself. Things started out great. I timed it perfectly, but I dropped my hymnal while adjusting my hardon.

By the time I bent over to pick it up, I knew people were looking at me. I could feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment. How did I have enough blood to be stiff as I was and blush as well? Who knows?

When a person is young, he thinks the world is paying attention to him at all times. It came as a surprise to find almost nobody noticed or even looked in my direction. Relief flooded my soul as I realized I wasn't the object of ridicule. Then I saw a member of the choir staring at me. It was Mrs. Jackson, and she was getting a good gander at the bump in my slacks. She was what is now known as a milf. She made an appearance in some of my bedtime jerkoff sessions. She stared at my groin, and she was smiling.

But in a good way, not a laughing sort of way.



Hope you liked it.
Pappy