My Husband Tried to Impregnate Me In The Lord’s House [MF]

About 3 years ago (so F25 M27 at the time), before we had kids, my parents invited us to church.

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DISCLAIMER: This story has a LOT of buildup—and I’m sorry for that. But for those that have read my stories, you know that they are a bit on the longer side. Plus, I just got so turned on thinking about this before writing it that I knew I had to include as much description as possible. If you want to skip straight to the sex, scroll down to the “****************.”

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Now, because this was three years ago, you should know that I looked a little different. My C cups were perky B cups, and I didn’t have any of this pesky pregnancy weight (can I get a Hallelujah?).

I was raised in the church (Baptist). Our congregation was pretty large, and my father has been a deacon for many years. Until moving away for college I faithfully attended church, bible study, and youth meetings every week with my parents and siblings. Even after starting college, Dad would call every Sunday to ask how church service was, and I always told him it was great and detailed the things I learned. The thing is, that it was always a lie. I never went to church in college, because the truth is I stopped believing in organized religion (for reasons I won’t get into here) a long time ago. My husband, Taylor, is an agnostic. Only after we were engaged did I tell my Dad that we weren’t going to church. He has always blamed my husband, and my husband has graciously taken the fall. Don’t get me wrong, Taylor and my Dad get along just fine, apart from a few religion arguments around the dinner table, and Dad has accepted (I think?) he isn’t ever going to make Taylor a believer. But Dad still works like hell (see what I did there?) on me.

Another thing you should know. Having been married for about 5 years, Taylor and I decided it was time to start a family. I had been off the pill for about 3 months, and we hadn’t had any success. I was starting to get worried and sad that I wouldn’t be able to conceive. It was weighing pretty heavily on me on this day because I had just taken *another* test that morning and it came back negative.

Usually when my parents invited us to church, I had a great excuse to say “no” like an event that was happening or something. When I didn’t have a credible excuse, I usually just told them that we weren’t feeling up to going. But my parents do always succeed in getting us to go for Christmas and Easter, though we usually put up a fight.

It was not Christmas or Easter, but the middle of summer. This time, I don’t really know what I was thinking. Maybe I couldn’t think of an excuse, or maybe somewhere deep down I believed that if I went to church and prayed to get pregnant, God would lend a helping hand. But I said yes. My parents were thrilled and told me they would come pick us up. I guess they didn’t believe that we would get there on own—they might’ve been right. I told Taylor to get dressed, and he said “for what?”

“For church, silly.” I answered back.

Taylor laughed, “Madi, are you serious? No!”

“Pleeeeeaaaassseee.” I pouted, giving him my best doe eyes. “I don’t want to go by myself.”

Hubby rolled his eyes, “fiiiine.”

“Great, my parents will be here in 15 minutes to pick us up.”

We got up to get dressed. I chose a super cute white dress with a baby blue and black floral design with black straps. It has a ribbon with a bow just under my breasts. It screams southern bell, which I am ?. The dress went about halfway down my thighs. I had recently shaved my legs, so I didn’t feel the need to put on any panty hose. I put on some matching white 4” pumps to perfect the look.

As a special reward for hubby’s cooperation, I decided to forego wearing any panties. He loves when I go commando and tell him (or show him) afterwards—be it a restaurant, a football game, or whatever. I had never done it for church though, and the idea of it was definitely already starting to make things happen between my thighs—God would forgive me, right?

Hubby got dressed too and came out looking like a million bucks. Fellas. Get a suit. Wear it. There is not a man I have met in this world who does not look better in a well-fitting suit. In fact, even though we have a lot more fun when he works from home, something I miss from pre-coronavirus days is Taylor wearing a suit every day. Now, Taylor is already prime real estate in my books, but when I saw him in his (almost) royal blue suit and slacks with a solid red tie, I was ready to take it all off of him again.

My parents arrived, and we hopped in the car. I got in the car and didn’t pull the back of my skirt under my butt, so I ended up sitting fully on my Dad’s cold leather seats. I carefully adjusted myself accordingly, not wanting to ruin the surprise for hubby sitting by the other window.

We arrived at the church after a pretty pleasant car ride over and walked inside. Still the same as ever, the stick sweet musty air, the rows of pews (cushioned, praise the Lord), and people dressed in their Sunday best. We sat down, and pretty soon, the pews were nearly full, and Pastor Steve (why do I know so many Steve’s?) had taken the pulpit. Pastor Steve began his sermon. I do not remember anything he spoke about. My husband was on his phone, but I was actually trying to pay attention—at first. My fatal error though was not wearing panties. Every few minutes, my mind would wander back to the nakedness under my dress. I was growing increasingly wet despite my attempts to think about other things and focus on Pastor Steve’s message. I also grew increasingly worried that I was going to leave a wet spot on the pew cushions.

I leaned over to Taylor and told him that I was going to run to the restroom, he nodded and I got up. I rushed to the bathroom and grabbed some paper towels and dabbed away at the wetness below. I took a moment to compose myself and walked back to the chapel.

I sat back down next to hubby and smiled. “Could you give me your jacket? My legs are cold.” I said. It’s true, they were. In no time, however, I was back to thinking about naughty things and I felt the moistness begin to build again. “Welp,” I thought. “Guess there isn’t any helping it.” I shot up a prayer hoping that there wouldn’t be a noticeable wet spot on the pew when I left. It would be difficult to deny it came from anywhere else but my pussy.

At about half past the hour, my husband was noticeably bored, so I leaned over to kiss his cheek and smile. He slid his hand under his jacket and over my thigh and whispered, “Please never again.”

I laughed. He kept his hand on my thigh and I was getting wetter. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I took my phone out of my purse and texted Taylor. “You want to read some scriptures?” I wrote. His phone buzzed, he smiled and responded, “lol, no.” I wrote back and said, “I think you’ll like reading this one, it’s my favorite from bible study. Proverbs 5:18-19.” I had forgotten nearly all of the scriptures I learned apart from the big ones, and this one. This one is my favorite.

Taylor rolled his eyes and grabbed the bible sitting next to the hymnals in the wooden rack screwed to the back of the pew in front of us. My parents’ eyes just about popped out of their sockets when they saw him flipping through it, trying to find Proverbs. It took him a while to find it, because I’m pretty sure he’d never opened a bible in his lifetime before this. He found the page and scanned it.

“*Let thy fountain be blessed: and rejoice with the wife of thy youth. Let her be as the loving hind and pleasant roe; let her breasts satisfy thee at all times; and be thou ravished always with her love.”*

I saw his eyes briefly widen as he smirked and closed the bible, putting it back next to the hymnal.

I texted him again.

“Want some ravaging?”

More smirking. He wrote back. “After enduring this, I hope so.”

“Who said anything about ‘after’?”

Our eyes connected. I moved Taylor’s jacket up so that it was covering me from my knees to my torso. He skootched closer, pretending to cuddle while listening to Pastor Steve’s sermon. My man’s hand found my bare thigh again, and this time with some cover I could move it in the right direction. I guided my husband’s hand closer to his prize, watching him intently to see his reaction. Taylor’s eyes widened when his fingers connected with the naked skin where my panties should have been. He looked at me and I gave him a small, guilty smile and bit my lower lip. He teased me ever so slightly with his fingertips, careful not to make visible movement from under his jacket.

He took out his hand and texted me again, “Is there somewhere we can go?”

“To do what? :p” I responded, knowing exactly what he wanted to do.

I started thinking, I don’t think our church is what people would call a megachurch, but we had some wealthy individuals in our congregation and as a result, the campus was pretty large. I scanned my memory trying to recall if there were any spots that could afford us the requisite amount of privacy.

I texted Taylor again, “Follow my lead.” Once I was sure he had read it, I grabbed my purse and pretended to dry heave into it. The chapel was big enough where it didn’t interrupt the sermon, but the people surrounding us had turned their heads with concern. Taylor rubbed my back and said, “honey, are you ok?” loud enough for my parents to hear. I shook my head and said, “I need to go to the restroom again.”

“I’ll make sure you get there in one piece,” Taylor said with fake concern. We got up to leave together and my parents looked concerned but told Taylor to take care of me.

We exited the chapel into the foyer and began walking to my pre-designated spot, careful not to spoil our cover. Growing up in this church, there was a room that the youth knew would lock from the inside and that people didn’t use very often. Once locked, the door could only be opened from the inside or with a key. On more than one occasion, some of my church friends would sneak off to make out with the boys during youth night activities. I’m not sure if it was ever used for what we were about to use it for.

At this point, I was absolutely drenched and could feel the lubrication under my dress. I sent up another silent prayer asking God to make sure the room would be unlocked. We reached the door and jiggled the handle. Unlocked! We hopped inside and pressed the lock into place.

**********************************************************************(queue sexy times)

Our lips connected immediately, tongues exploring each other’s mouths. It was dark inside except for the light coming in through the frosted windows. I pulled away and fell to my knees.

“We have to make this quick, baby,” I said as I threw his belt on the ground. “We need to get back before the end of the sermon.”

Taylor groaned. “Fuck, Madi, this is so hot. I can’t believe you didn’t wear any panties to church.”

I unzipped his slacks and fished into his briefs. It wasn’t hard to find. Cock in hand, I fed it through the hole in his trousers. “Watch your language, baby. And keep your voice down.” The next instant, I was sucking on my husband’s dick.

Taylor threw his head back and softly moaned, “Fuuuuck.”

No time to spare, I stood against a wall and hiked my dress up so he could see my exposed pussy for the first time that day. “Come fuck me.” I remember my legs shaking in my heels from the anticipation.

Taylor hurried behind me and grabbed a handful of my ass. The head of his dick was pressed against my opening, teasing me.

“Pleeeeaaase,” I whispered to the wall. “Put it in.”

He squeezed my ass harder and pushed. Fuck. There was nothing else I needed in the world in that moment other than my husband filling me up. He paused a moment, so that I could get used to his size and get things nice and lubricated.

“Oh God, Taylor.” I muttered under my breath. “I’m ready. Fuck me.”

He started pumping slow at first, then fast. I felt every inch of him, pumping in and out.

He leaned over my back while thrusting into me and muttered in his gravely voice, “You naughty girl, now I know why you wanted to come to church.” I looked back at him from over my shoulder and nodded, showing him with my eyes how desperately I needed him.

I turned back to the wall, “Oh, God!” Those words were starting to have new meaning to me.

“Fuck, Madi, I’m close. Where?”

“You know where, baby, shoot it inside of me.”

One. Two. Three pumps. His hands were clenching my hips. One final thrust and I felt his hot load painting my insides and—I hoped—impregnating me. The thought of getting impregnated in the church where I grew up in and just the situation as a whole was too much for me. I hit my climax in the middle of his.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuu….” I silently screamed. Wave after wave came over me, and my legs nearly buckled. With every spasm, I felt Taylor’s cum pushing itself further into me.

We stayed there, welded to each other. In total probably only about 12 minutes had passed since we left, 8 since we started the sexy stuff.

He slowly pulled out of me (does it feel as good to you other ladies when they pull out for the final time, or am I weird?). I knew his cum was going to fall out and make a mess, so I put my hand beneath me to catch it. Most of the loose stuff fell onto my hand, and since there wasn’t anywhere else to put it (e.g., like in my panties), I held it up and let it slide into my mouth, licking up the last of it from my hand, and swallowed.

“Fuck,” Taylor said waaaay too loudly. He had watched the whole thing and had never seen me do anything like that. I looked down and he was already hard again.

I laughed. “Not so fast there, partner. Put yourself away, we’ve already been gone too long.”

******************************************************************** (end of sexy times)

We ran to the restroom to grab some towels in case there was some straggler sperm (there always is).

Taylor and I sat back down in the chapel next to my parents, and I gave them a thumbs up to let them know I was feeling much better. We caught the last fifteen minutes of the service. Taylor smiled so stupidly for the rest of it.

During the ride back home, I felt even more of Taylor’s cum eek out of me onto my Dad’s leather seats. I grabbed some extra paper towels from my purse and cleaned it up. Taylor saw me and we smirked at each other.

After that, we continued to fuck like rabbits until about two and a half weeks later I got a positive pregnancy test. Did we get pregnant in a church? Honestly, I don’t know. I personally like to think we did.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/hitr3t/my_husband_tried_to_impregnate_me_in_the_lords