Chapter 3

The preacher's wife drove home to her small, simple town and dignified life. Cruising down the freeway gave her time to reflect. Guilt consumed her knowing she had committed adultery, but she was even more distraught over how she had behaved. There were times she was forced to commit wicked acts, but at other times she wanted to do them. She knew she was going to spend a lot of time in church asking God for forgiveness and to allow her to return to her normal, respectable life. But part of her was wondering if she would miss the feelings the stranger awoke in her.

"That's debauchery!" she screamed over the car radio. And then her mind went into overdrive. It's immoral ... sinful. That's not my life. I don't need that. I'm happy ... I really am. After a pause, she muttered, "I am happy, aren't I?" It was said so softly that if there had been a passenger in the car sitting next to her they would not have heard -- even if the radio hadn't been on.

When she got home her husband looked up and peered over his newspaper. "Where were you?"

Marge became flustered. Because of the "extracurricular activities" in the hotel room after the movie, she was gone longer than usual when making one of her "special" trips to the city. In the past, her husband had no idea she had left town or, for that matter, even the house. He wasn't one to ask how her day went.

"I, um, I went looking for a present for Julie ... for her birthday."

"What did you get?" he asked, stretching his neck to see.

"Um, nothing. I didn't find anything."

The trusting preacher nodded and went back to reading his newspaper. Marge hated lying and worried about adding yet another sin to the list she'd have to answer to on her day of judgment.

The days passed and Marge's life got back to normal. Her knees were sore from constantly dropping down to pray when a wicked thought entered her mind, but she believed she had put the sinful part of her life behind her. God had taught her a lesson. She had been punished for sneaking out to watch dirty movies, and vowed never to do so again. She had fought Satan and won!

It was Sunday, the day she felt closest to her husband. Standing with the choir, she watched him at the pulpit bellowing out his sermon. He seemed so powerful. Marge's eyes perused the congregation to observe the faces being inspired by her husband. Her breathing stopped and her smile faded. He's here! Oh my, what's he doing here? She quickly averted her eyes when Jack winked. But she couldn't continue to look away. Compelled to keep an eye on him she looked back to where he was sitting. When they made eye contact he nodded towards the side door. The preacher's wife looked there and then back to him, shaking her head no. And then her eyes darted left and right to see if the others in the choir had noticed. They were all infatuated with her husband so she looked back at Jack. He nodded again and stood. She watched him squeeze past the knees of the others in his pew as he made his way to the far side. It reminded her of the rows in the porn theater. Then he disappeared into the room.

Marge fretted. Why was the stranger in her husband's church? What did he want? She no longer had the anonymity of the large city to protect her. This was her small town -- where she lived. She was surrounded by people she knew. There was no way she was going to leave the choir and meet him. But what did he want? She kept asking herself that question and got more and more agitated. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer and quietly moved away from the choir towards the room the stranger had entered.

"What are you doing here?" Marge whispered as soon as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

"A hello would have been nice?" Jack said sarcastically.

"Stop it! We're not friends. We're--"

"Lovers?"

"Lovers?! We are not lov ... I'm married. You were a mistake. What do you want?"

"You."

"Me? Oh-my-gosh, not again! Please leave me alone."

"A quick fuck and I'll be gone."

"Please, you're in the house of the Lord. Please don't use that language."

Smirking, Jack said, "Just let me stick my cock in your hot juicy cunt and I'll be on my way."

"I will never cheat on my husband again. I sinned and have been asking God's forgiveness. Now please go." She crossed her arms across her chest and stood tall, shoulders back.

Grabbing Marge's arm, Jack spun her around and placed his other hand on the doorknob. "Okay, let's go tell everyone about our little party."

"Wait!" Marge said in a subdued scream, yanking her arm free. "You can't."

"Of course I can ... and you know I will."

Marge's mind was in turmoil. She couldn't sin again. But she couldn't be exposed either. "It's your word against mine."

"Hmmmm, I wonder how many people know about the birthmark on your ass? It looks sort of like Florida," Jack said triumphantly. "And how did you ever get that little scar under your right nipple? That should prove I saw you naked. And if they believe that, they'll believe the rest."

"No they won't. They know me. They won't believe you."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure the movie theater employees would recognize you. Not many women go there ... especially alone." When he saw the panic in Marge's eyes he went for the kill. "And the boy whose cock you sucked ... hmmm, I bet he'd remember you. Do you want your husband ... and your family ... and all your friends ... to know that you sucked a boy's cock and swallowed his cum? Twice too. You were only told to do it once, but you did it twice. Yeah, that boy will surely remember you."

The more Jack spoke, the more Marge's shoulders slumped. "Okay, but not here," she said softly, her head down, fighting back the tears.

"We either do it here or we go out and talk to all those nice people out there. Who knows, maybe they'll want to see your birthmark. Ha ha."

She didn't pull away when Jack grabbed her arm. He dragged her towards the wall opposite the door and gently flung her. She stumbled, her palms slapping onto the long metal table. She felt his large hand on her back, pushing, and Marge leaned forward, sliding onto her forearms. She looked behind her. He stooped, reaching for the hem of her long flowing dress, and then he lifted it slowly and flipped it onto her back.

The preacher's wife was humiliated bent over like that. But it was nothing like the shame she felt when he dragged her white cotton panties down her legs. She couldn't look, but knew he was staring up at her pussy while she lifted one foot at a time to step out of her underwear.

Jack stuffed the preacher's wife's panties into his pocket before removing his slacks and underwear. He nudged the insides of Marge's feet until she spread her legs. Then he stood back, taking in the sight of her lewd position. In the background, he heard her husband's voice shouting out his sermon.

Marge's eyes were shut tight trying to block out the nightmare. She waited for him to enter her, but instead felt his warm breath between her legs. Oh no, he's looking at me. How much more will he shame me?

Her eyes popped open when she felt Jack's tongue. "Ohhh noooo!" she cried out when he began lapping her pussy. She felt the familiar tingling in her loins -- something she was trying to forget. She tried to fight it -- fight the sin of pleasure -- but was losing the battle. Jack's thumbs had her pussy pried open and his face was between her legs. His taut tongue sunk deeply into her hole, wiggling around inside her. Marge squirmed from the titillating tongue which now began flicking in and out of her moistening pussy.

Jack pulled away for a moment and let her labia spring back. Marge's breathing was deep and loud, her forehead resting on her forearm. Her hips unconsciously wiggled, seeking the tongue that had abandoned her. Then she felt her pussy being opened again. It felt different this time because Jack was using only one hand -- his thumb and forefinger. And then to the preacher's wife's glee, his face pressed against her again and his tongue began licking.