Exton

Rev. Matthew Fisher sat in his office, trembling convulsively. A 9 x 12 manila envelope lay before him on the desk, and beneath it, face down, a selection of 8 x 10 glossies. On top lay a stark, forthright declaration of intent - words that delineated his future conduct and ultimately, his destiny.

It read:


Dear Rev. Fisher -


I assume that by now you have found leisure to peruse the enclosed photographs. Be assured that the original source material still lies in my possession - as well as video evidence that can prove conclusively, I think, that these photos were neither staged nor coerced - and that I have every intention of using it should you not accede to my demands - commands, rather, for they are nothing less.

So that you may have the maximum possible time for carrying out my instructions, I will make so bold as to list them now.


(1) No later than this Sunday night, you will announce to your congregation that you are retiring - reasons of health, perhaps? You might find it prudent to make the authorities at your church aware of this decision prior to that time, so that they may have additional time to begin searching for your replacement, but that decision I leave to you.

(2) Within this month, no later than thirty days from receipt of this communication, you will leave Exton forever. During this time period, you will make no reference to this communication, the photos contained with it, or the events that led up to those photos being taken - not to your wife, nor anyone connected to your church and most certainly not to the legal authorities. You shall, in fine, speak to no one about these matters. Disobedience in this matter would prove disastrous to your character and your future.

(3) You will cease, immediately upon your resignation, to act as a minister of the gospel in any manner whatever. You will have no speech regarding your religious beliefs with anyone at any time; explain it how you will. Again, should you violate this prohibition, rest assured there will be serious consequences.


The consequences - let me now enumerate them, so that you may consider your position.


Should you violate the terms above by so much as one jot or tittle, copies of the photos you have seen - and many more, that were not included in this mailing - will be made available to your wife, the authorities at your church, and the leaders of your denomination. They will be also be placed in several sites on the Internet, sites where you will have much ado to have them removed; sites that, while they may eventually accede to legal pressure, will have no difficulty passing the files to another site that may serve the same purpose. And legal action can be so very expensive to pursue….

I believe that by now you must surely appreciate the impossibility of your position, and the futility of attempting to defy me. Leave Exton; do not return, and never, under any circumstances, make any reference to the time you spent here, in any manner whatsoever. Should I learn that you have disobeyed me, though it be twenty years hence, the consequences of which I have spoken will be as inevitable as the sunrise.


Good day to you, sir.

It was unsigned.

Fisher stood and walked to the door of the office. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he made certain it was securely locked; then returning to the desk, he turned the damning photos over for another look.

No need; the images had seared themselves into his brain.

Item: A gorgeous blonde woman, gloriously naked, rode him from above, her head thrown back, her eyes veiled, mouth gasping in utter abandon. His own identity was quite clear; the unknown photographer had captured, as they say, his good side.

Item: Fisher knelt before a muscular man with thick dark hair who reclined naked in an overstuffed armchair; a man whose thick erect cock was lodged deep in Fisher's own mouth. Both participants gave every evidence of extreme enjoyment.

Item: Fisher, on his knees again, with the man from the previous photo kneeling behind him, his hands gripping the minister's hips. It was clear from the angle of the photo that the man was fucking Fisher's ass, and Fisher's own face reflected an expression of carnal pleasure.

Item: Fisher, still on hands and knees before a naked woman, another blonde, who sprawled in another armchair, her legs draped over the armrests.

Fisher stared, unbelieving, uncomprehending -

Again he was orally pleasuring an erect cock - and the cock belonged to the woman!

Item: Fisher was astride the woman from the first picture, on her knees before him; behind him was the "woman" from the previous picture, her cock deep in his ass; and Fisher's mouth was again busy with the dark-haired man's cock.

There were more photos, more variations on the same theme. The single commonality among them all was that, in each photo, Fisher's face was quite clear and recognizable.

He remembered - vaguely, the way you remember things that happened when you were drunk off your ass. There was no question but that this had all really happened; his memories were clear enough to know that the pictures didn't lie. The pleasure, too - that was real, even though it now made him sick to remember it.

But why?

That, he couldn't remember.