The Pastor's Wife Ch. 03byPeter Duncan©
"You look well rested Agatha," Phillip had said when he came into the cottage to pick her up. "I trust the week has been good for you." He kissed her, but typical of his kisses it was a peck on the cheek. She kissed his lips, wrapped her arms around him then dropped her hands to his ass and pulled him tight.
He responded by pushing back, opened his lips and pushed his tongue into her mouth. Agatha fumbled with his zipper, worked it down and grabbed inside. Phillip's kiss became more passionate and, as she pulled his cock out of his pants, he fitted his hand inside her bra and fondled her soft breast.
Agatha slid down to her knees and sucked her husband's hardening cock into her mouth.
"Agatha!" Phillip exploded, "What's gotten into you?" The first time she had sucked his cock, early in their marriage, he had gotten so excited that he came in her mouth. No sooner than it happened though, he cringed with remorse. As far as he was concerned oral sex was sodomy. The first time was a momentary lapse in his resolve. Since then he never allowed it. Hastily, with a hollow pop he jerked his cock out of his wife's sucking vacuum.
His cock fully erect, he took her hand and jerked her to the bedroom, threw her on the bed, pushed her shorts and panties aside, found her hole with his cock and plunged inside, pumping two, six, eight times. On the eleventh thrust, with an "Oh, my lord!" he came inside her. Catching his breath he rested on top of her and told her what an exciting woman she was, and how much he loved her. Within two minutes he got up and said, "Well dear, we'd better get going. Traffic's going to be a mess."
As they crept in traffic her feelings simmered. Too many years she had hoped his attitude would change. But, in the last six nights, having developed a true understanding why she had been so needy, she had been introduced to a whole new world of sexuality, and never wanted to be in the sexual wasteland again.
Through the years she had fantasized such illicit pleasure, which was one thing. Masturbation had provided shallow release, and, absent an epiphany for Phillip, that was about what she could expected if she didn't shape her own destiny.
But her fantasy had materialized and in a way, and with the kind of person, she had never anticipated. She knew she would never see Bart again and was processing a kind of grief. What, she thought, am I going to do with the rest of my life? The straw that broke the camel's back was when Phillip yelled at her for sucking his cock. At that moment she knew she was going to tell him about her week's activities, and let the chips fall...
"You seem quite reflective my dear," Phillip said, "A penny for your thoughts?"
A penny for my thoughts, she thought. We don't have enough money in our savings to be able to afford a small portion of what's on my mind.
"Agatha, you seem to be troubled"
No shit, she thought, having just been spurned while trying to give him pleasure then, for all practical purposes, having been raped and seeded, not something, unfortunately, to which she was unaccustomed. But, as always, she had hoped for more. Clasping her hands till her fingers were squeezed white the bomb was ready to be released.
"My dear?" he persisted...silence. He saw by the harshly shaped lines on her forehead that his wife was deeply troubled. It was obvious that she needed to talk but, for some reason, couldn't talk with him, her husband. So, he looked at her like the pastor he was, the way he had learned to look at other troubled women in his flock. "Agatha, dear, if you can't talk to me, your husband, perhaps you would like to talk with me as your Pastor."
Perfect, she thought. She wasn't going to keep here secret inside her anyway. I've been having my brains fucked out by a young stud Phillip, that's what I should tell him. "I've had an affair with another man Reverend Wilcox." What a fucking travesty.
His foot hit the brake and tires screeched, the car behind him swerving, the driver honking in anger. Easing the gas pedal to catch up with traffic he thought, this must be a dream; she couldn't have said what I thought I heard. His Adam 's apple took up more room in his throat than it had and, with his eyes bulging at the traffic in the rear view mirror, he tried to swallow.
"Did you hear what I said Phillip?"
He was silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His knuckles on the steering wheel were white. Afraid that she would say it again, he was frightened that he had heard it right the first time.
"I've had an affair with another man."
The color drained from his face. He couldn't concentrate on driving and turned on his right blinker signal. Looking over his shoulder he eased the car from the middle lane to the next and finally to the shoulder where the black Buick sedan crunched to a stop. His face was a giant question mark, his mouth agape. "You've had an affair?"
Had an airplane dropped out of the sky he couldn't have been more shocked. Nervously chuckling he said, "It's a very bad joke Agatha."
"It's not a joke Phillip. It happened in the cottage...for six solid nights."
Trying to make sense of the vileness that had come out of his wife's mouth he turned his face away from her and cocked his head. "Was...is...Was it somebody in the congregation?" He looked over and she shook her head.
Phillip's stomach was somewhere between being hungry and needing to vomit. His hands were still on the wheel and he'd forgotten to breathe. Exhaling the foul air he sucked in the new, had the urge to laugh and said, "Well, you certainly had me startled," and thought, Can this really be my wife? He wanted to slide over and hug the words away but knew from the look on Agatha's face that she was deadly serious. What could he say that would make sense? "Did he seduce you?"
"He didn't have to seduce me Phillip; I wanted him to do it. I made it easy for him."
How can this be happening, he thought? We've been happily married for all these years. Incredulous, he asked, "Where did you meet this man Agatha?"
"At a restaurant," she answered. "He approached me." The quiet crawled like a snail carrying the burden of their thoughts. "He wasn't a man in the sense that you are thinking." Phillip's eyes opened wider with unwanted expectation. "He was a lifeguard Phillip. He'll be twenty next month."
Facing forward he closed his eyes, slumped in his seat and covered his face with both hands. He gasped then sucked breath, let it partially out and exclaimed, "My Lord, Agatha. Are you telling me you had sex with a boy who is no older than Malcolm?"
"Every night this week, Phillip," she said looking into the disbelieving headlights of his eyes. "And I loved it." The hurt in his eyes shamed her but she had decided to be tough. "And, this boy, as you refer to him, has taught me things about my body that I had never known." Hurtful rebuke was foreign to her and, even though she was assigning blame to Phillip, she felt an immediate sense of regret for hurting her husband.
Burying his face in his hands Phillip gasped, "Oh God," whispered, "oh God," then began sobbing.
She was accustomed to the fact that Phillip's ego had always gotten in the way of his consideration for her feelings but knew he wasn't a mean spirited man, and, realized that Phillip, probably like many men, never explored his romantic side. She excoriated herself for not having been more assertive throughout their marriage but she had been doing that all week. Had she been more forthright in the first place this situation would never have come about. She had come to believe that she had pled to him for better understanding but now realized the communication had only been mental exercises on her part. Phillip was innocent. Having participated in presenting to the Congregation their couplehood as a model of communication she felt like a fraud. In truth, they were not on different pages, but in different books. With a deep sense of remorse she said, "I'm so sorry Phillip. Do you want me to leave?"
"Oh Agatha," Phillip gasped. "I've depended upon you so much. I'm so deeply hurt ...Oh, my God!"
"Do you want me to leave?"
"I'm so shocked; I don't know what I want. You've meant so much to me Agatha and I've always thought that I've meant as much to you. How could you have hurt me so badly?"
For better or worse, she thought. I promised that. There's been bad and good, yes. But, before Bart, I never realized just how good "good" could be. She felt remorse, felt like a cheat and a slut. I feel so dirty.
They were both silent for the remainder of the trip. They slept in separate rooms the rest of the next week and conversations were matter-of-fact... intermittent—without rancor—just informational. Each gave the other a wide birth trying to determine what their new boundaries should be. Phillip was marking time and Agatha, fearing the worst, awaited his decision. She wondering if she would, under the same circumstances understand, but hoped he would forgive her.
It wasn't till after 9:00 o'clock when Phillip came home the next Friday night. Agatha didn't think she had the right to ask where he'd been. But Phillip volunteered, "I've been with Bert Andrews for the last four hours Agatha."
Phillip and Bert had been college roommates and were best friends. For years she had recognized that there was spark in Bert and Mattie Andrew's relationship, something she had always envied. But she felt the shadow of shame covering her; the cat was out of the bag. The community of ministers of their denomination was small. Just one word from Bert to another 'confidant' could be spread like wild fire and the whole of Agatha's world would know that she was a cheating slut. She prayed that Bert would be discreet.
"It was a good talk Agatha," Phillip said in a conciliatory way. "He put things into perspective for me."
Waiting for the other shoe to fall Agatha looked at him warily.
"He asked me if, other than sex, we were happy." His eyes were pleading. "I said yes." He reached out as if to touch his wife but couldn't make contact. "Haven't we been happy Agatha...except for, uh, that? I, I just didn't know how you felt."
Agatha wanted to feel his touch but withheld her hand. If she told the truth Phillip would be hurt. If she didn't, they both would be hurt in the long run. She wanted to be honest and thought being tough would be her only hope. Tears welled in her eyes and she reached out to her husband's outstretched hand. "I'm so sorry Phillip, this is entirely my fault. I should have communicated to you years ago how important sex was to me. But, other than sex, we have been very happy Darling."
"I told Bert everything Agatha...everything."
Embarrassed and ashamed that Phillip had to share such intimate and sordid details with his friend she thought of Bert's eyes... felt like he was a voyeur. Yet, unexplainably, she felt thrilled. The Andrew's seemed as much lovers as they were husband and wife; she had always envied them. She wondered if Bert would share their secret with Mattie.
"He asked some rather embarrassing questions, Agatha," Phillip went on, "and, his reactions to my responses left me feeling inadequate as man." He blinked back tears. "I was shocked at some of the things he confessed that he and Mattie do as a couple. He told me that he always felt my religious narrow mindedness was backward... said that women need romance and adventure...that I've put you in a position to yield to natural urges that could push you into a relationship with another man. And I did. I am so sorry my love."
"Oh Phillip," Agatha exclaimed, "I have been so wanton. I've betrayed you. Can you ever forgive me?"
"I need you Agatha. I have to forgive you, I need to forgive you...but it's so hard. How can I ever be an adequate man in your eyes again?" She clutched him in her arms. He responded, "Oh my darling, I'm so ashamed."
They kissed, tears streaming down each face. His kiss was needier than ever before...more passionate as well. Agatha knew she had to take control and hoped that he would understand, hoped that his discussion with Bert Andrews had opened a door. She reached down, fumbled with his zipper and reached in, grasping his rising cock in her fist. Hungry, as Agatha's hand stroked him to rock hardness, their tongues tasted each other's.
Breaking the kiss Phillip blurted, "Oh Aggie, it feels so good. I'll hold back; I promise."
It was strange to hear him call her anything but Agatha. In all their years together he had never called her Aggie. She felt creepy, like he had been watching and listening in on Bart and her, asking herself, Why had he called me that? But, she was also astonished that he said he would try to hold back.
Hoping he would allow it, she said, "Darling, I want to go down on you."
"Yes," he said, "Yesss. I want you to uh, suck my cock?" Releasing his embrace and gently placing his hands on her shoulders he pressed downward, almost apologetically.
She was beginning to be thankful for Phillip's time with Bert; he had never before used the word cock in her presence. With her hands flat on his back Agatha slid down to her knees and looked up into her husband's eyes. He was looking down at her. Her eyes remained locked on his as she lifted his hardening penis and licked underneath its head, licked the length of the underside of its shaft and watched his lips shaping into a tiny oval. His tummy quivered and she heard the low whistle of air being sucked through the small opening of his lips.
Licking her lips, she glossed them with her saliva and slid them smoothly over his tapered, purple helmet. Funny, she thought, he's not as fat as Bart. I can feel the contours of his cock better. She heard Phillip's grunt and felt him clamp the cheeks of his ass. He was actually trying to withhold his orgasm, the first time in their marriage he ever did.
She reached inside his boxers and cupped his balls in her left hand then, between her finger and thumb tips, she rolled them. He flexed and dipped, spawning a long, high pitched whine. She took him deep inside her mouth. Bart's cock had been short and thick; Phillip's was longer...and thinner. Not ready for his length, she gagged when his head jammed the back of her throat. She pulled back, grasped the exposed shaft with her hand and stroked him while her moist, tightened lips fucked his cock. He tensed, like he was going into a mini seizure, and again called out, "Aggie!" He shuddered and managed, "I...I can't," trying to pull his cock free of her mouth.
Aggie wanted to give him pleasure, needed him to feel good about what she was doing. Uncertain of how he would respond, she grabbed the cheeks of his ass in both hands and refused to let him pull out.
"But Aggie," he said, "I shouldn't..."
She tightened the seal of her lips, fluttered her tongue more fervently and, grunting and snorting like and excited pig, moved her mouth wildly over his cock.
Phillip stopped resisting. He laced his fingers in her hair and, moving his ass forward and back, began fucking her mouth. Then, as he exploded he cried, "Yes Aggie, yes, yess, yesss!"
Phillip had ejaculated in her mouth only once during their marriage. Since that time he wouldn't even let Agatha suck him. The first time Bart, her young lover, had cum in her mouth, she was like a person in the desert with a great thirst, keeping his thick, warm semen in her mouth and rolling it over her tongue... savoring the experience.
During that unforgettable week at the shore she craved the taste of the young man's semen and fed on his explosions. She couldn't get enough of it and had become addicted to his spunk. But, as Phillip's warm sperm caressed her tongue and splashed on the back of her throat she reached a higher state of ecstasy. Her stomach cramped then released; she shuddered and relaxed, feeling affirming warmth spread throughout her body, feeling her panties wicking her ejaculate. Two more spurts of Phillip's orgasm, which were surreal, felt like long lines of oozy mayonnaise, laying on her tongue then sliding down her throat.
If he wasn't truly pleased that she was milking him she knew that, without even understanding, he was feeding her fetish and was letting her act like the passionate woman she was, like the slut she wanted to be...his slut.
His knees barely holding him up, Phillip collapsed and sagged against the wall. Looking down upon his wife he saw her blue eyes fixed upon his, adoringly. Her lips, now devoid of lipstick, were speckled with white flecks of semen. For the first time in their marriage her act gave him primal pleasure. He had done nothing but let her suck him until he exploded inside her mouth yet, she seemed to be worshipping him. Why, he asked himself? He gathered his breath, stood in front of her, hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her to her feet, pressing his own against her semen flecked lips and kissing her passionately, sinking his tongue in her mouth like he was trying taste himself inside her. He hugged her hard, broke the kiss and gasped into her ear, "I'm so sorry Aggie." She placed her finger against his lips to silence him then kissed them.
It was the kind of permission he had always hoped for. His parents had never shown affection for one another and he hungered for it. Sex, by his father's definition was for procreation. Pleasure in sex was considered wicked. Anything other than vaginal intercourse was looked on as sodomy.
While he and Agatha were going together he struggled with his lust for her. When they were married he was wild about sex, having it daily. Once, Agatha had sucked him and he had cum in her mouth. He thought of his upbringing and was shamed, for both him and his new wife, wondering what his father would think of their sodomistic behavior.
He had always felt backward when it came to sex but didn't know how to go about it, relating to his wife the way he perceived his father related to his mother, steeped in religious prudishness. Perhaps, had his wife been more persistent, giving him permission to be more adventurous, he would have come around. He had always hoped she would take control and direct his desires. At the same time, he'd rejected her advances.
His hands fumbled with the button of her slacks then zipped them down and peeled the garment to just below her bottom. The fingers of his right hand forced her legs to spread. Pulling her panties aside he parted her labia with his middle finger, found her threshold and slid it deeply inside. As he fucked her with his finger his thumb made contact with her clitoris and rubbed it.
Bert must have really conducted a clinic, she thought. But she knew Phillip, who had been so sexually repressed, even though having been prompted, was some distance from developing a tender touch. She felt like a teenager in the back seat of car and couldn't help thinking of the sophisticated way in which Bart, her young lover, had stimulated her. She smiled and she said, "Please be gentle, darling." He complied immediately and his petting thumb sent shocks to her toes. What came next though stunned her.
He had hooked his finger, applying firm but caring pressure, moving it purposely on the front of her vagina. His finger moving inside her mixed a copious slurry to the sound of, "futch, futch, futch," and he blurted, "You're so fucking wet Aggie!"
Excited by her husband's thumb as it skated on her clitoris, and his finger fucking her cunt, not to mention his use of such a basic sexual word, Aggie's excitement moved her up and down. Feelings that Phillip had never before brought forth swathed her in an soft angora robe and carried her into ecstatic bliss. She felt both loved and needed by the one who had been so indifferent to her sexual starvation, the one she had fallen in love with so many years ago, the one with whom she had planned such a complete life. The novelty of his clitoral shocks and the newness of his finger massaging the inside of her vagina spawned oohs and ahhs that became a pleasured shriek of surprise when that one probing finger became two.