It was that time of year when the leaves were just starting to change and the yellow warmth of summer was fading into the cooler shades of autumn. Taking a moment to glance around the rest of the chapel you notice that several of the other women are sporting light sweaters over their dresses - a sure indication of the turning season outside. You wondered if anyone else was living in the same burning summer as you were at that moment. Pastor Clemmons had opened up the meeting with his usual cheery humor and introductions, and as you lift your arms up to tie the rest of your hair up in a pony tail you quietly thank God that you don't have any part in the musical program that day. You were in no shape to play, and you just hoped that no one would notice your flushed cheeks. 

Down beneath the baby blue folds of your Sunday dress you felt ... well flushed. The tickling along your thighs had subsided, but had seemed to travel to your most intimate parts, something that felt new, even amidst your newfound romantic thoughts. Minutes seemed to drag ever longer as the service continued, and the ever-growing sensation of desire seemed only to move upwards. Shifting from one hip to another only delayed the growing hunger of your womanhood, and flexing your legs only brought more motion to the area. Swallowing hard you close your eyes, and for the first time .... enjoy this new feeling. 

"Annie, my girl, are you alright? You look as if you're unwell." Turning to the right you see Sister Meadows, a younger widow who you've come to know quite well, leaning in your direction.

"Oh I'll be alright sister, but I don't think I'll stay after the meeting for choir practice like usual."

"Yes, its probably best that you go home and lie down." The older woman gives you a warm smile and a pat on the leg as she leans back to her own seat at the edge of the aisle and resumes listening to Pastor Clemmons - you're sure its a great service, but you hadn't the faintest idea what it could be about. Your mind was elsewhere. 

The organ picks up for one of the last hymns of the morning, and as you reach for the hymn book an audible gasp escapes your lips as a shot of electricity runs through your groin. Not daring to check what's going on down there in the middle of church you simply shut your eyes, bit your lip, and do your best to sing along to Amazing Grace. This new bombardment of feeling along your lips and womanly jewel is relentless, and your legs unconsciously spread slightly in response to the stimulus. 

"God" you think "I've been a good Christian girl my entire life. I've gone to church, read the good word, and been as faithful as I know how to be. But I have no idea how I'm supposed to resist this kind of temptation! I pray to be closer to John one time and not only is he not here at church, but I'm having to battle this feeling inside me? What did I do to deserve this? I only wanted to sit next to him!" 

The only answer came from within the confines of your underwear. You made up your mind then and there to bear the shame of what you were about to do. Rather than ending the song with an Amen you exhale and allow a deep moan to spring forth, blending in with the rest of the congregation. You hope that the sounds of your pleasure were drowned out by their praise. 

The meeting was closing now, and everyone bowed their heads as Pastor Clemmons offered his public thanks and praise before everyone dispersed back to their homes. Taking advantage of everyone's lack of attention, you take one deep breath and allow one hand to fall from your lap into your crotch, pressing down into the source of your lust back and forth. 

Had Sister Meadows been more attentive, she would have noticed the beautiful young woman to her left shudder from the breasts downward, and heard the faintest whimper escape her lips "Oh God … help me."