Chapter 4

The preacher's wife was still enraged that Jack made her perform sex with him in the church room while her husband conducted services within earshot. And the audacity of him to actually shake hands with her husband afterwards while the taste of his semen lingered in her mouth and his sperm dripped down her thighs. So you can imagine her surprise when Jack stood there smiling on her porch when she opened the front door.

Marge immediately slammed the door shut, but Jack was a door-to-door salesman and used his foot as a wedge. She futilely pushed the door, again and again, finally slapping it hard and stomping her foot, and then pushed it one more time.

"I'm not budging," Jack informed her.

Marge kicked his foot and then leaned against the door, breathing heavily, her heart pounding. She clenched and unclenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"I'll call the police if you don't leave."

"Go ahead ... what's the charge?"

"You're bothering me."

"That's not against the law." Jack chuckled. "If it was, every salesman would be in jail and there'd be no room for real criminals."

"You raped me!"

"I did not ... and I think I have a few witnesses who would say you are a slut and enjoyed it."

"That's absurd!"

"Oh yeah, what about the boy in the movie theater whose cock you sucked ... twice? And the guys who jerked off all over you? What about them? Some are regulars so I'm sure I'd find them if I looked."

"Okay, okay, I won't call the police. Just leave. Leave me alone."

"Only if you come with me."

"Absolutely not!"

"Okay, then I'll come in."

Jack leaned into the door with his shoulder, easily pushing it open. The unexpected force propelled Marge backwards. She stumbled like a drunk a few times and then her feet got tangled. Arms flaying, she landed hard on her ass. By the time she regained her composure and looked up, Jack was standing over her -- inside her house with the front door closed. She scampered backwards, bouncing on her butt and hands.

"G-Get out of here!" Marge screamed.

"Only if you come with me."

Marge started to back up further. Jack leapt and dropped to a knee, grabbing her ankles and pulling her legs out straight. She fell onto her back. He stood up, effortlessly lifting her by her legs. She reached out for something to hold on to and soon her hands were flat on the floor, her feet in the air in a handstand, her long dress draped over her head.

Marge was dumbstruck -- and helpless. Being held upside down, she knew Jack could see her underwear and, when he spread her legs, the juncture between them. But then it got worse. One hand at a time slid down her legs, his strong fingers gripping her tightly as he stooped. Then he stood. Marge's arms swung freely, now dangling off the ground. His fingers tightened around her delicate flesh, and then he tossed her petite body into the air, catching her with an arm around her waist. Marge's hands grasped for anything, finally reaching behind her, clutching Jack's pants. Her own legs buckled and folded over his shoulders.

Marge felt the sides of Jack's face against the inside of her thighs -- and then his mouth on her crotch! Shaking his head from side to side, he rubbed his lips against her pussy covered only by the thin cotton of her panties. The preacher's wife squirmed, but Jack didn't know if she was trying to get away or if she was getting turned on. He kept at it, pushing his mouth hard against her covered pussy and pressing his tongue into the crevice.

That feeling was returning, so Marge tried desperately to free herself from his grasp, her feet kicking like she was running in the air. One of Jack's arms tightened around her abdomen holding her securely against his body, his fingers digging into her side. His other hand caressed her naked belly and then snaked under the waistband of her panties, his fingers twirling her pubic hair.

The preacher's wife's panties got wet. Jack knew some of it was his saliva, but the taste told him there was more -- her pussy was lubricating. Although she wouldn't admit it to herself, Jack knew how easily she got aroused. He kept rubbing his mouth against her wet crotch and slipped the hand inside her panties to her clit. When he rubbed it, Marge's thighs snapped shut around his head. He knew then he had conquered her.

Jack brought the preacher's wife almost to an orgasm and then stopped. He gently lowered her to the floor -- first the top of her head ... then her shoulders ... then her back ... and finally her legs. The preacher's wife lay on her back with her dress over her face and her legs spread. A good portion of her panties were pressed into her pussy slit with her abundant blonde pubic hairs sticking out the sides. Her body twitched and she moaned in the darkness under her dress. Jack stooped beside her and gently ran his fingertips along her panty-covered crotch. Her lower body jerked at the touch. He did it again and again with the same reaction; the preacher's wife's moaning getting louder, her breathing raspy.

He pulled her panties down, tugging them out from under her butt, and then down her subtle legs and off. She didn't put up a fight. Her face and upper body were still covered by her dress, but her lower body was now naked. Jack again teased her pussy with his fingers. With each touch Marge humped her hips as if trying to increase the pressure, but Jack's touch was feathery and without penetration.

Marge had repressed her sexual desires since puberty and was not prepared for the feelings consuming her body. On the crest of an orgasm, she moaned her frustration and spread her legs seeking fulfillment. Her hips jerked each time Jack's fingers touched her, but he kept pulling them away.

Jack looked down at the preacher's wife, half covered by her frumpy dress and half naked. Her hands were at her sides, her fingers clenching and unclenching. Her legs opened and closed slightly. He wanted to fuck her badly, but his goal was to sexually liberate her. At first he had taken advantage of her vulnerability, but then he got to like her -- and feel sorry for her. He felt her suffering even if she wasn't aware of it and knew she couldn't be convinced of it -- not with words anyway.

Taking Marge's hand in his, Jack guided it to her pussy, placing her fingers on her clit. She had never masturbated, growing up believing it was a sin, but her mind was like mush and all she felt was pleasure between her legs. She didn't even realize it was coming from her own fingers. Each touch sent a signal to her brain which sent a signal back to her fingers to do it again. She mauled her clit, rubbing it in circles and back and forth, and then she exploded. Her hand dropped lower, two fingers slipping into her hole, the heel of her palm crushing her clit, her legs snapping together. She rolled onto her side, her knees pulled up, her body rocking on the floor. When her climax completed, the preacher's wife rolled onto her back with her legs straight out and her arms dropping limply to her sides. The material of her dress was sucked into her open mouth and blown out with each pant.

When the preacher's wife came around she abruptly sat up and yanked her dress down. "You pig ... you made me do it again."

"Do what?"

"Lose control ... let the Devil in my body."

"That's called an orgasm, sweetie. And it wasn't me who did it ... it was you."

"Me? What are you talking about?"

"Smell your fingers."

Marge cautiously lifted her hands to her face and inhaled. Her expression told Jack all he needed to know -- she smelled her own pussy on her fingers. She blushed.

"Oh-my-gosh, I couldn't have. Oh no! Oh God, please forgive me!"

"Now let's go," Jack said, grabbing the preacher's wife's arm and pulling her to her feet. Before she realized what was happening, Marge was stumbling behind Jack, being dragged outside and thrown through the driver's door of his car. Then he shoved her on the bench seat to the passenger side as he climbed in. She faintly heard the automatic door locks click just before the engine started. And then they were zooming away.

"Oh sweet Jesus, my underwear!" Marge shouted. "He'll find them."

"Don't worry about your husband," Jack said and held up her panties, waving them teasingly.

Marge reached for them, but Jack pulled his hand back. He told her she didn't need underwear where they were going and told her to sit quietly. She sighed and placed her hands in her lap. Acutely aware that she was naked under her dress, the preacher's wife felt so wicked.

The silence was unnerving so Marge asked, "Where are we going?"

"My place."

"Why?"

"I'm going to bring out the woman hidden in you," was all Jack said, and then they rode in silence again.

When they got to Jack's house, Marge looked quickly from window to window in the neighboring homes. She was very self-conscious of being alone with a strange man. Although no one would have known even if they saw her, she felt especially sinful not wearing her underwear. So when Jack ushered her into the house she moved quickly, glad to be out of sight.

"Would you like a drink?" Jack asked.

"No ... I don't use alcohol."

"You don't mind if I have one?" Jack asked the rhetorical question since he was already pouring himself a whiskey.

Jack told the preacher's wife to sit on the couch which she apprehensively did, keeping her knees together and tugging her dress down over them. She clasped her hands in her lap as she watched Jack turn on the equipment and load a cassette into the VCR. Tossing the remote in the air and catching it, he walked to the couch and sat next to the preacher's wife. Picking up his glass, Jack shook it causing the ice cubes to rattle and then took a swig of his drink, the cool liquid burning his throat.

"Aaahhhhhh," Jack said holding up his glass, thinking it was funny, but Marge just stared at him nervously.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

"I didn't want to drive 70 miles."

"Huh?"

"To the city."

"What do you mean?"

"To the movie theater. We can watch one here."

"A movie?! You kidnapped me to watch a movie?" Her voice went up an octave at the end of that sentence.

Staring at Marge's face, he pointed the remote in the general direction of the VCR and hit the play button. Marge turned to the TV and her eyes opened wide when she read the title across the screen -- "Cock Loving Sluts."

"Please turn it off," she said very softly, lowering her eyes.

"I thought you like movies like this."

"I don't. They're sinful. I've learned my lesson and repented."

"Don't tell me you don't like that."

Marge's eyes followed his pointing finger to the biggest cock she had ever seen. No one -- not her husband ... not the stranger ... not even the actors in the dirty movies she had seen -- had a cock the size of the one on the screen. Jack smiled when he heard her take a deep breath.

The actor was standing nude. His 14 inch cock was hard, but its own weight caused it to point more down than up, right at a woman's face. The fully dressed actress was on her knees staring at the monster cock, licking her lips. Marge's tongue unconsciously slid across her own lips. Each time the actress reached out to grab the huge cock the actor slapped her hand away -- and her bottom lip stuck out.

Another cock appeared. Not as large as the first one, but just as hard. The actress was so engrossed with the gigantic cock that she didn't notice the second one. That is, not until it poked her cheek. She turned in surprise and stared at it, and then her eyes went back to the first one. Back and forth her head moved, looking at each cock in turn -- the desire obvious on her face. That look was also on the preacher's wife's face.

When the actress begged to touch the cocks, Marge's breathing got more pronounced and she squirmed on the couch. Jack noticed her thighs separate and clamp shut. And then he heard her sigh, a sound he had become attuned to. Her eyes were fixed on the TV, watching the woman grab both cocks at once. While Marge was consumed with the action on the screen, Jack opened and lowered his pants to mid-thigh. Reaching over, he grabbed Margie's hand, but she pulled hers back, her eyes never leaving the TV. Jack took her hand again, this time not succumbing to her feeble attempt to break free, and laid it on his cock. Her fingers wrapped around his dick and absentmindedly squeezed it while watching the movie.

The actress let a large drop of saliva drip from her mouth onto the huge cock and then used it as lubrication to help her hand slide smoothly. She repeated it with the other cock and soon her fists were moving faster. The preacher's wife rocked back and forth, pressing her thighs together, still unconsciously stroking Jack's now hard cock.

When another cock appeared on the TV screen, Marge clenched Jack's cock, holding it, waiting to see what the actress did. She didn't have long to wait. The new man guided his cock into her mouth. Marge found the scene unbelievably arousing. A fully clothed woman was on her knees with three nude men. She was jacking off two while blowing the third. Marge's hand moved up and down Jack's cock again while she watched the movie, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping open, her breathing short and quick.