The Preacher's Wife
Once a year, when a beautiful Indian summer day arrives, I grab my gold pan and head for Brushy Fork Creek. The gold that I find there is always high quality but there is never enough to justifies the work. At the end of the day, my typical reward is a handful of lead buckshot, some fools gold, a few rough garnets, and yes, a few flakes of real gold. The solitude, crystal clear water, and colorful leaves, are the real riches found on these days.
I was up with the sunrise, and after stuffing my pack with some snacks and supplies, I was out the door. On the way to the creek, I stopped for breakfast at the local Burger King. The Sunday morning church crowd doesn’t show up until later so the restaurant was fairly empty.
I occasionally write short stories and have fun trying to get them published. Today I had the Writer’s Guide on the table next to me hoping to find a new outlet for my work. I was making a few notes for my next story as I was wolfed down my sausage and biscuit sandwich.
I really wasn’t paying attention to the people passing by until I heard the voice of a women ask, “Are you a writer?”
I looked up and briefly studied the young woman standing at the end of my table. “I write occasionally, but lately, I have been learning to thrive on rejection letters,” I said jokingly.
She continued to linger at the end of my table as if there was something else that she wanted to say; finally she asked, “What type of writing do you do?”
Now was my opportunity to scare her away so I looked her in the eye and boldly said, “Currently, I have been writing erotica.”
Something changed in her expression and after a moment she dropped her eyes and said, “Sometimes I write stories too.”
Well, I hadn’t scared her away so I extended an invitation, “You are welcome to have a seat if you like.”
She set her coffee on the table and slid into the seat across from me. I put out my hand and said, “ My name is Josh.”
She shook my hand and replied, “I’m Ann, nice to meet you Josh.”
She was about five and a half feet tall. Her auburn hair was cut just above the shoulder; she had a nice smile, lush lips, and green eyes. Even though she carried a few extra pounds, she had chosen tight fitting clothing to accent her waist.
“Well Ann, tell me about your stories.”
She shyly looked down and said, “They are romance stories,” and then added, “I don’t think they’re too good.”
While I wrote my e-mail address on a napkin, I said, “Maybe you can share one with me sometime.” Ann smiled and accepted the napkin when I handed it to her.
I try to be a good listener and from the mouths of very ordinary people I have heard some truly amazing stories. Ann seemed like she wanted to talk, and I thought she might have a good story if I could coax it from her, so I asked a few leading questions. “Do you live around here?
She replied, “Yes, I live about 15 minutes from here.”
I was looking at her wedding ring as I asked, “What do you like to do for fun?”
She said, “Not too much these days.”
There was a moment of silence and then as I had hoped, she began to open up. “I was raised on a farm in a conservative and very religious family. All of the women in our community wear ankle length skirts and conservative blouses. None of the women cut their hair. Dancing, alcohol, smoking, and even caffeine are prohibited. I have never tried cigarettes or alcohol.”
She began digging around in her purse as she continued her story. “When I was twenty-five I met my husband, John. He was a young preacher, a couple of years older than I was, and of the same faith as my family. He often had dinner with my family and my parents were elated that a preacher had taken an interest in their daughter. My parents arranged my marriage to John and within four months we were married. Since birth control is prohibited by our faith, three children came along quickly.
As long as I have known my husband, he has been consumed with doing the Lord’s work. He is always busy coordinating activities for the youth group, organizing missionary fund raising events, and attending to the general business of the church.
Now seven years have passed, I am thirty-two and it seems that there is even less time for my husband and me. The kids keep me busy night and day.”
Finally, she pulled a creased photo from her purse and laid it on the table. It was a photo of an overweight woman with long hair and an ankle-length skirt. She was hanging clothes on a clothesline and had three small children at her feet.
“This is my picture from a year ago,” she said.
Suddenly, I understood the personal journey that Ann was making. She sat before me, fashionably dressed, wearing make up and had her hair stylishly cut. I could see that she was proud of the shapely figure that she was regaining. I had to admire her courage and I also had to wonder about the personal cost required in this proclamation of freedom.
“Wow! You have really come a long way. What was the turning point for these changes in your life?”
She picked up the photo and put it back in her purse. After a moment she said, “ I would prefer not to discuss it here, maybe we could go somewhere a little more private to talk.”
“Ok, we could go to my car if you want.”
“I would rather be in my own minivan,” she said.
She had her coffee topped up and we walked out the door. Her van was parked in the far corner of the lot away from any other cars. I opened the passenger door and moved a few toys from the floor so that I could get in. Once the doors were closed, we sat for a moment just looking at each other, wondering where this might lead.
Ann began to speak, “One Sunday morning while my husband was preaching at church, I put the kids into the church nursery and I sneaked out to this Burger King. I had my first coffee. It felt so nice to have a little private time and to do something special, just for myself. I returned to church in time to get the kids and greet my husband after the service. He never even missed me. The fact that it was prohibited made my little coffee break seem exciting and soon I did it every Sunday.
One Sunday, as I was coming in the front door, I noticed a passing trucker who had stopped for breakfast. He jumped down from the cab of his truck and happened to get in line directly behind me. He was good-looking and a little younger than I was.
He made some small talk with me and then said, “I am not normally this bold but in this light your green eyes really have depth to them.”
“This was the first attention that a man had shown in me for years.”
I must have blushed and he said, “Surely, you have heard that before.”
I didn’t know how to respond and finally changed the subject by saying, “It must be interesting to travel all over the country.”
“He said that he had kept a picture portfolio of some of the most interesting spots that he had visited. He invited me to tour the inside of his truck and look at his photo album. I suspected that he had more on his mind than just a tour, but I also figured a cup of hot coffee would back him off if he scared me. He bought his food and paid for my coffee as well. He held my hand and steadied my leg as I stepped up into the truck. I got to sit in the driver’s seat and he showed me how the CB radio worked. He said that the photo album was in the sleeper. When I followed him back to the sleeper, he took my hand, turned, and kissed me on the cheek.
“He said, “I have been away from home for a long time and I am hungry for a woman.”
“His second kiss was on my lips, long and sweet. I seemed to have no defenses against this young Casanova. He took the coffee cup from my hand and set it off to the side, then guided me back onto the bed and into a pile of pillows. I was filled with a strange mixture of desire and guilt but his kiss still lingered on my lips and I didn’t want that good feeling to stop. He wasted no time getting my skirt rolled up. He kissed his way up my thigh and ended up nuzzling his nose into my underpants. I felt his lips gently bite my swelling clit through the fabric. Soon, I knew I wanted more. I raised my hips up for him to pull off my underwear. He tossed them aside and knelt down between my legs. He kissed my mons and as he moved a little lower, I felt his hot breath on my sex. For the first time in my life I felt a tongue slowly caressing my vagina.
“You taste fantastic,” he said, putting my mind at ease.
“I just lay there, mesmerized by the new sensations that he brought to my body. It felt so good.”
He raised his head up from between my legs and asked, “Do you like what my tongue is doing?”
“Yes, very much,” I stammered.
“He then slid two fingers deep into my sopping vagina and with his palm turned up, started massaging a spot on the backside of my pubis. He moved his fingers in little circles. He laid his other hand on my lower stomach, just over the fingers that were inside me. He pressed down as if he was trying to get his two hands to meet. He lowered his head and his hot tongue found my engorged clit. Between the massage and his tongue, I had never felt such pleasure! I felt my insides turn to water, my heart was pounding and I was half-hyperventilated. My legs started shaking as the strongest orgasm that I have ever experienced exploded in my vagina. Crying and laughing at the same time; my senses were completely overwhelmed! I had never been so alive! My husband may have broken my hymen but that trucker was the man who really took my virginity.
I kind of passed out for a moment and when I started to regain my composure, I came up on my elbows and was embarrassed to see a large wet spot on the bed between my legs. I was afraid he thought that I had peed on his bed, even though I knew that I hadn’t.
He gently pushed me back into the pillows. Slowly he unbuttoned my blouse, unsnapped my bra, and cupped his hands around my breasts. When he brought his face close to mine, I noticed that both his beard and the front of his shirt were wet. He gave me another long slow kiss and I tasted my own juices on his lips.
In a husky voice he said,“ I want to make love to you.”
“I looked down at the bulge in his pants. I just shook my head no. I felt obligated to somehow return the favor but I wasn’t ready to totally violate my marriage vows.”
“This time he didn’t ask. He sat down on the bed and pulled his thick cock from his pants. He pulled my head to within an inch of his dick and held it there. I found his musky scent primitive and erotic. I knew what he wanted, but I had never sucked a dick. My husband had always acted disgusted when oral sex was mentioned.
I gently took his dick in my hand. I stuck out my tongue and slowly licked the salt from his foreskin. When it was clean, I slid my mouth over the head. I began to move my mouth up and down trying to make it feel like a vagina for him.”
He wrapped his fingers into my hair and said, “Ahh…Wow! That feels awesome.”
“Instinct took over. My whole world now was that hard cock that filled my mouth. Serving a man in this way somehow gave me a primal satisfaction; his moans assuring me that I was answering his needs. I don’t know how long I sucked his dick, but when he started moving his hips, I knew he was about to cum. I pulled my mouth off of his cock and continued to stroke him with just my hand. He closed his eyes, his head went back, and a look of rapture washed over his face. His hips convulsed and an unrestrained gasp of pleasure came from his lips. He shot four waves of semen straight up into the air! It came down and glazed my hand like a donut. When he quieted down, I let go of his dick and used the corner of the sheet to clean up the semen. Then I lay down next to him and we cuddled for a while.”
When he began to talk, he said, “I have never been with a woman who got so wet! When you ejaculated all over my face, it was phenomenal! It shot right into my mouth; I almost choked! I have only seen a woman squirt like that in a porno flick and your blowjob had me in heaven too! Thank you for everything.”
“His kind words really made me feel appreciated and special, and now I understood the wet spot. It was the first time that I had squirted.
My husband never takes that kind of time with me. He comes to me once a week, kisses me three or four times, motions for me to lay down on my back and screws me. When he gets close to coming, he, “pulls and prays,” letting his semen land in the sheets. Sometimes when he is screwing me, I watch the clock out of the corner of my eye. He cums so fast that I secretly call him, “the minute man.” When he is finished, he gets up, often without a word, and returns to his Bible. We always do it on my side of the bed because he doesn’t want to sleep in the wet spot and he won’t clean up the mess.
For a while, I felt guilty about my indiscretion. I quit my Sunday morning visits to Burger King, but the memory was so strong that after a month, I started coming back. God, how I had hoped for that trucker to return and treat me like that again! This time, I would let him do what ever her wanted to me!”
“So Josh, you had asked me what the turning point was for the changes in my life, and now you know. That experience taught me that something really good was missing from my life.”
Well, after a story like that, I was seriously turned on and wishing that I was a trucker. I now saw Ann in a new and beautiful light, no longer just a passing face in a crowd, but a hot woman with unfulfilled desires, and I shared her secret. I looked at her eyes to see if she was interested, but her eyes were already locked onto the bulge in my jeans.
Ann nervously laid her hand on my leg and without looking up she said, “Josh, I will give you a blow job if you want one.”
I replied, “Ann, could any man refuse that offer, especially after a story like that? Let’s move to the bench seat in the back.”
Luckily, during the course of Ann’s lusty tale, the windows had gradually fogged up, so we had some privacy. I got my belt loose and my pants down to my knees. I lay across the bench lengthwise, keeping my head up to look around so we wouldn’t get busted. Ann got on her knees and took my dick into her hand. I felt her warm moist lips engulf the head. She kept her hand moving in time with her bobbing head. Saliva flowed from her mouth lubricating her hand, and in that way, extended the feeling of her mouth all the way to the base of my dick. Ann was also swirling her tongue around the head while simultaneously trying to suck the cum out of my rock hard cock. Oh yea, I felt like a king!
I quickly had the first tingles of orgasm in the depths of my groin, but I wanted to stretch our time out a little longer, so I pulled her head back and said, “I want to see your breasts.” She straightened up and peeled her tight shirt off over her head. I reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, getting my first look at those big luscious breasts. Her nipples were still flat and compressed from her bra so I lowered my mouth to the first nipple, locked my lips over it in a vacuum seal, and sucked the life back into it. I swirled my tongue around on that nipple just like she had done to my dick. After I had it standing hard and proud, I gave the other nipple the same treatment. I moved my mouth back to her lips and we got lost in a long, hot tongue kiss. At the same time, I teased one nipple by rolling it between my fingers, and began to entertain her crotch with my other hand.
I said, “Ann, I have a rubber in my wallet. I want to make love to you.” As she contemplated my request, I continued to rub her crotch and I kissed my way down along the side of her neck. When I felt her shiver, and goose bumps rose up under my lips, I knew she was mine.
She turned her head, grabbed my ear with her teeth and then whispered, “Please, yes, but where?”
I pointed to the entrance area by the side door and said, “Right there, doggy style.”
Ann turned her back to me, unsnapped the front of her pants, and with my help from behind, we wiggled her tight jeans and her already damp underpants down to her knees. She bent forward on her hands and knees. I took a moment to study her vagina; intentionally making her wait and letting her anticipation grow. I was surprised to see that she had shaved her pubic hair. She had small lips and a medium sized clit.
Her hunger was showing. A drop of girl juice running from her glistening vagina was the perfect invitation to get lost in the pleasures she offered. I rolled on the condom, laid the head of my dick against her hot opening and leaned into her, steadily, slowly, burying myself to the hilt. Ann moaned loudly as the last inch filled her up. Her cunt gripped my cock like it was my own hand. She threw hair back and quickly started slamming her hips back into me, taking my cock as deep and hard as she could. Her pent up desire drove her like a machine, milking my dick for all it was worth.
For a moment, I mentally stepped back and looked at this scene. I was in a fogged up van, in a Burger King parking lot, on a Sunday morning. Ann’s husband was probably in the middle of a sermon, preaching the evils of fornication, while his wife was screwing my brains out! It was all too much!
I was snapped back into the moment when I heard Ann whisper quietly to herself, “Thank you, God, Thank you.”
Watching my cock driving again and again into that plump ass was incredible! I did not last long. My balls tighten up, the energy gathered, and like a bursting dam, the orgasm cascaded through my body. Ann matched my stifled scream as we abandoned ourselves to pure pleasure. I held her hips tightly against me until the last of the orgasm had subsided and then I fell back onto my haunches.
I just sat there, still reeling from the rush, watching my well-used cock slowly deflate. Ann turned around and slowly peeled the rubber off for me. I couldn’t believe it when she leaned forward and used her tongue to clean every last drop of cum from my now sensitive dick. Our eyes met, she licked her lips, and then smiled in a peaceful satisfied way. It was the same sweet smile that I remembered seeing on the Mona Lisa!
Ann glanced at her wristwatch and said, “ I am getting late. I need to be out of here in five minutes.” As we quickly composed ourselves, she said,” Josh, that’s a nice dick you have.”
I told her, “You’re so tight that I can’t believe that you’ve had three children.” I gave her a quick hug and kiss. I slid out the side door and said, “It was a pleasure meeting you Ann; hang on to that e-mail address!”
The next day, I was surprised to find my inbox stuffed with twenty-eight stories that Ann had written. I wondered what I had unleashed! Ann’s stories were short but I could feel her hunger, passion, and desires. She wrote of being romanced on the dance floor, giving head under a restaurant table, and the nuances of pleasuring another woman. The story of her being shackled and forced to please her partners intrigued me the most.
The term, “Sunday Morning Service,” now has a new meaning for me! Ann finds a hot cup of coffee waiting for her at my apartment every Sunday morning. She comes to forget that she is the preacher’s wife and abandons herself to her deepest sexual desires. She is the wettest woman I have ever met, dripping from the first kiss to the last.
Maybe I didn’t find the gold that I was looking for on that lovely fall morning but I have felt a whole lot richer ever since I met this little lover.