The Preacher's Wife

When the young and ambitious Continental Congress of the United States signed the Northwestern Treaty in 1787, it opened up the lands west of the Ohio and Allegheny rivers to homesteading. The original thirteen colonies had felt the need to expand beyond the eastern coastal area, into the unexplored western lands. By boat or by land, settlers arrived at a small river town on the banks of the Ohio called Marietta. The tiny outpost would grow through out the next few years to become known as the "Gateway to the Northwest". In 1788, it was a few hastily built log cabins along the river bank, providing shelter for the 48 men of the Ohio Company of Associates. The small village grew as more settlers arrived to outfit for the trip inland and up the Muskingum River into the heart of the rolling hills west of the big river. The white settlers considered the land to be raw and unexplored, but in that fact they were completely mistaken, for when Harman Blennerhausett arrived in 1798 to purchase his island paradise and build his mansion upon its soil, inhabitants had already been there for nine thousand years.

Blennerhausett's Island itself had been used by water going groups of humans as early as 8000 B.C. These people left little to acknowledge their existence, save a few shards of crude pottery and stone tools. The next group to leave their mark was the Adena, who occupied the area around the future site of Marietta from about 800 B.C. to somewhere around 100 A.D. The Adenas are notable in that they built large mounds of earth to house the remains of their dead. For reasons quite unknown in this day, the Adena were replaced by other tribes of Native Americans, notably the Shawnee and the Iroquois. The old story tellers of these tribes would set around the campfires and tell the story of the O'cu'aka or whatever name they gave to the thing that visited the hills of the area. Whatever the name, the translation was always the same, "The Winged Demon That Lays With Our Women".

Constance McCullough found the bawdy river town to be wild beyond belief. The wellborn daughter of a New England businessman, she was used to finer attire and accommodations than she was experiencing in the mostly unsettled western lands. Rivermen tied their barges at the wharf and found their way to the inns and taverns of Marietta and into the arms of the ladies of pleasure that worked in the tiny town. The roaring laughter and sounds of sex could be heard at all hours of the day and night down next to the river. Constance avoided this part of town whenever she could, preferring to stay around the church that her husband, Marcellus had founded only a few months before. Located a short distance up the Muskingum, the church, and farms that lay around it, were a far cry from the rowdy town on the river, where the men and women did that vile thing that men and women did with their clothes off. Constance had little experience with sex, even though she had been married almost a year. She had never seen her husband's nakedness, only felt the hard thing below his waist on a few occasions. The first was on their wedding night, when the pain had been almost unbearable. Good wife that she was, Constance had silently let him finish. Truth be known, the entire act took five minutes. The good preacher was as inexperienced as his good wife and did not know that she was not ready to receive him into her body. Nearly three months passed before Constance once again allowed her husband use of her body to satisfy his lust. The second time was less painful, but no more pleasurable for her. Constance had been hoping for a quick pregnancy, so her husband would stop his amorous use of her.

Constance was a tall woman, lean of leg and heavy of breast. She had wide hips, good for child birthing, her mother had said. The comment, although well meant, sent a chill through Constance's body. She knew well what getting pregnant meant. She had seen her father doing that thing to her mother. They had thought that she was going to a friend's house one day back in her home town. She had returned home early to find the door ajar and went into the dark interior of the comfortable little house. A noise from her parents' room drew her attention. Curious as to the source of the sound, the young girl tiptoed down the short hallway to the opening into her mother and father's bedroom. There she saw her father, Oliver, naked and on top of her mother, who was laying on her back with her big billowing skirts pulled up around her waist. Oliver Wendelcome had his face buried in a pillow as he humped up and down between his wife's open thighs. Mary Wendelcome bit her lip and stared at the ceiling, anxious for her husband to finish. Constance, undetected, watched as her mother held her husbands head down tightly while tears formed in her eyes. Constance backed away from the doorway and staggered outside into the bright sunshine. She found herself gasping for breath and soon burst into tears at the horror of what she had witnessed. Although young at the time, Constance never forgot the look on her mother's face that day, and swore she would only tolerate the act for the purpose of producing offspring.

Constance Wendelcome met the young preacher who would become her husband in the spring of 1791. Marcellus McCullough was a tall man, one of the tallest Constance had ever seen. He rivaled in height the great General Washington, whom Constance had met on a business trip to Virginia with her father some years earlier. Marcellus was a guest of the Reverend Thomas Johannsen of Boston and had spoken at a church meeting about the need for good men and women to fight for souls in the newly opened territories to the west. He spoke with a great passion, and with fiery oratory, won the hearts of his congregation. His fire and passion also stirred the young woman, Constance. Later, at dinner, they had a wonderful conversation in which Marcellus told Constance of his plan to settle in the Ohio River Valley, start and pastor a church and win souls. Constance listened as he described the area around the new settlement of Marietta. His vivid account of the men and the life they led intrigued the young lady for hours. When they parted, Marcellus asked Constance's father for permission to call on his daughter. Oliver Wendelcome was indignant to the point of anger that his only daughter would take up with a wild eyed young man with no real job to support a family, as is normal for a father to do. As is normal for a daughter, Constance chose to see the young preacher on the sly, stealing brief moments with him as often as she could. They hid the encounters from Constance's father and mother.

In the late summer of that same year of 1791, the two lovers eloped, sneaking away in the midday, when Oliver Wendelcome was at work and Mrs. Wendelcome had left to see a friend. The two stopped at the next village to the west and found a preacher who was willing to marry the runaway pair. Pronounced husband and wife, they took a room in a local inn. In the darkness of the room, Constance faced her fear of sex bravely. They kissed briefly and awkwardly. Marcellus waited patiently as Constance changed into her nightgown, actually a thick, heavy robe that concealed her figure completely. Upon seeing his bride in this state of undress, Marcellus was inflamed with passion. He quickly removed his trousers, exposing the bulge in his underwear caused by his rigid tool. Blowing out the lamp at the bedside, he rolled over to take his wife in arms. In seconds, he was on top of her, pulling the robe apart in the front to allow access to her. Her legs parted only slightly at first. Marcellus forced one leg between her thighs, then the second one. His weight forced her to open herself for him. His cock head touched the dryness of her vagina lips and he began to push hard against her. In his inexperience, he did not realize that she was not aroused or lubricated enough to permit comfortable intercourse. Being the good wife that she intended to be, Constance bit down on her lip to stifle a scream. As the hard penis forced its way past her maidenhead, the blood from her bitten lip was similar to the blood that was weeping from her lower opening. The torn hymen served to provide a little lubrication for the penetrating cock of her husband.

Marcellus finally had his length in Constance's vagina. Clutched by her tight twat, he made a small number of thrusts before he came in her. His nose went stuffy and he thought that he was going to blackout as the orgasm came upon him. Constance felt the hot, slimy semen erupt into her tortured pussy and knew the act was complete. She enjoyed the hugs and kisses that she received for her husband, who held her tightly until sleep overtook them

The following weeks were spent traveling across country to the settlement of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. From there, they would embark on a barge that would ferry them down river to the little frontier town of Marietta. The harsh conditions of the trip were quite exhausting for Constance. Worn and tired when they arrived at Pittsburgh, she looked forward to the boat ride down river. After the hardships of the overland trip, the flatboat was quite luxurious, even though it was crowded and smelled bad. Constance was oblivious to the stares of the crewmen as she and Marcellus would remain on the rail of the boat as it floated down the Ohio. the powerful river current swept the clumsy craft down stream at a steady rate. At night, they tied up along the bank, for the dangers of travel at night were worse than the danger of being close to the banks, Only once during the trip were they attacked by hostiles. A small band of Iroquois, perhaps drunk on cheap trade whiskey, approached the barge in a canoe. Whooping war cries gave good advance notice and the muzzle loaders of the rivermen filed the canoe and the bodies of it's occupants with lead balls. Constance fell ill as a result of witnessing the carnage and spent the remainder of the day in the small cabin of the boat.

Arriving in Marietta, the McCulloughs were immediately shown to the Farmers Stockade. Tall log walls surrounded the outpost, giving security from attack. Marcellus was introduced to the important members of the society, who pledged financial support for the building of a church. What few women were present in town pressed Constance for fashion news from Boston. Mugs of hard cider were passed around and Constance had her first taste of alcohol. The cool liquid went down easy. she was parched form the journey and the drink had an almost immediate effect on her. The fatigue and wear of the last two months hit her like a mule's kick. One of the ladies, Ginny McConnell, helped Constance upstairs to the room that she and Marcellus would share until their house and church could be constructed. A very tired Constance slept for the next twenty four hours, a sleep filled with dreams of a tall, dark figure with glowing red eyes that seemed to be searching for her.

Marcellus McCullough, with an ample amount of the hard cider in his belly was taken on a tour of the village by two of the senior members of the colony. Thomas Hocking and Wayne Randall, both hard living outdoorsmen, were both prone to drink, sometimes to excess. The three men found their way down to the rough little street on the river bank where the taverns were. Drink after drink went down the throats of the men. Marcellus, not used to drinking liquor, soon was very drunk. Staggering and giddy, he followed his new found friends' example, fisting tankards of drink and pouring them down. Lacey, one of the tavern wenches, coming over to share a drink with them, asked who the good looking stranger was. Thomas told her that this was the new preacher and he and Wayne were going to give him a good a proper welcome to the community. Lacey looked him over and asked if she could help welcome him. Wayne Randall produced a few copper coins from his money belt and told her that would be a great thing. Lacey made the coins disappear into her ample bosom. She slid on to the surprised preacher's lap, throwing her arms about his neck.

Too drunk to put up a fight, Marcellus found the unexpected presence of a woman in his arms not all that objectionable. She kissed him full on the lips, fire leaping through his body at her touch. Her hands roamed across his chest, opening his shirt, then, her mouth descended to his neck and chest. Moving slightly on his lap, Lacey worked her hand down Marcellus' stomach to his crotch. Weeks had gone by since the last time he had bedded his wife. Marcellus was drunk and horny. The tavern woman had no trouble opening the front of his trousers and thrusting a hand in, found his sizable erection.

"My, my, what a nice one!" Lacey said as she massaged the end of the preacher's hard organ. "I think we need to take this to my room, mister preacher!" Pulling him to his feet, she got the drunken and stumbling Marcellus moving toward the back room of the tavern. A curtain was all that separated the main bar from the small cubicle that Lacey worked in. Marcellus let himself be led into the room. Lacey got him reclined on the small bed in the corner and once again worked the front of his trousers open. This time, she reached in and expertly removed hi cock from its cloth prison. She was impressed with the length of the hard meat in front of her. She opened her mouth and took the weapon full in. Marcellus found his organ in the mouth of a woman for the first time in his life. Not just any woman, but an expert in the art of fellatio.

Lacey's tongue did a slow dance across the helmet of his cock. Marcellus felt the wonderful sensation and nearly blew his load. Lacey felt the orgasm start to build and stopped her mouthing of the man's dick. Normally, the faster a guy got off, the better for Lacey, she could move on to another customer. This was a special customer, the new preacher, and she wanted to make sure he got the best treatment possible. Backing off, she allowed him to come down just a little as she hiked her skirts up. Climbing onto the man, she positioned his cock at the opening of her vagina and sat down. He slid in easily and she began to ride slowly up and down on Marcellus' pole. His alcohol fogged mind was in disbelief at the sensations welling up from below his waist. His penis, swallowed by a wet and willing cunt for the first time, swelled to a throbbing mass of pleasure. Lacey's rocking hips milked the hard cock in her belly with practiced expertise. Marcellus felt his entire spine pull into a knot and with an orgasm that started at the base of his skull, blew weeks worth of semen into her belly. He passed out immediately. Lacey got up off him and, after wiping herself with a cloth, rejoined the other two men for a round of drinks.

Marcellus was wandering through a strange forest. Dark and foggy as any he had ever imagined. He stumbled forward over root and rock. he was drawn to a small clearing that lay just ahead. Arriving at the edge of the woods, he saw Constance standing with her back to him, staring at a dark spot at the opposite side of the meadow. Marcellus was frozen in place as he watched two glowing red eyes materialize in the dark shadow. The shadow grew darker and larger, forming the shape of a man. The dark form seemed to float across the meadow, gliding silently until it was standing directly in front of the pastor's wife. Constance seemed transfixed by the glowing red eyes of the shadow thing, standing rigidly as it approached. The dark shape reached out and touched her. Her clothes seemed to remove themselves and she stood nude before the shadowy thing. It towered over her naked body, nearly twice as tall as she. Constance did not resist as the creature scooped her up and deposited her in a bed of short grass. The creature knelt over her. It was as if the Devil himself was forcing Marcellus to watch as he coupled with Constance. Marcellus could hear her moans of pleasure as the demon lover took his wife. The expression of ecstasy on her face burned itself into his brain.

Marcellus McCullough woke with a throbbing head and a turbulent stomach, the results of the night before. Groaning, he rolled to a seated position on the straw bed. Looking around, he tried to orient himself with the strange surroundings. Nothing looked familiar in the room. It was a small one room cabin, with a stone fireplace in one end. Staggering to his feet, Marcellus fought back the urge to vomit. His head was spinning and a sickly sweat sprang from him. He knew he needed to get outside. Dashing to the door, he opened in just in time. A cramp forced him to double over as his stomach rejected the contents from the night before. Retch after agonizing retch kept him bent over for several minutes. As he regained his senses, he heard someone laughing behind him. Turning weakly around, he saw Thomas Hocking standing over a pile of wood that he was splitting. "I thought perhaps you'd be sleepin' most of the day, sir. You downed a good amount of whiskey last night." Thomas returned to chopping the wood, pausing after a few sticks to look at Marcellus once again. "You might want to be gettin' dressed, sir, there may be some ladies coming around soon. Don't suppose it would be proper for them to see the new preacher in that outfit." Marcellus saw that all he had on was his woolen undergarments. Returning to the cabin's stuffy interior, he found his clothes quickly and got dressed. The urge to lie back down was strong, but Marcellus was worried about his wife. Something in a dream, from last night, that he couldn't quite remember. All the events from last night were a blur, from the first meeting at the Farmer's Stockade. He remembered something about going to look at the rest of the town, then nothing. Well, there was something about a woman, who, he didn't know. His pounding head made thinking difficult.

Dressed, Marcellus once again exited the cabin gently, as his stomach was still on the verge of trying to heave. The morning sunlight had a refreshing effect on the man. "Where is Constance, my wife?" Marcellus asked Thomas Hocking. Thomas halted his wood chopping and holding the axe at arms length, pointed it in the direction of the north end of the settlement.

"Go to through the main gate, stay on the main street. Third house before you get to the end, your wife stayed with the Widow Duncan last night, seems she was exhausted by her trip here. Good to have you here, preacher." The burly man stuck out a calloused hand and pumped the preachers hand hard. "We need a good man of God in these parts, sir, we sure do!" A slap on the back nearly sent Marcellus sprawling. "You tell your wife that we are sorry we kept you out all night. If you would please make apologies to her, sir?" Marcellus mumbled that he would and walked slowly off in the direction that Thomas Hocking had indicated.

Marcellus walked the distance between Thomas Hocking's cabin and the Stockade. The walk got his blood flowing and cleaned the cobwebs from his head. He felt so shaken by the ease with which he had taken the drink last night. And then the stuff in the back of his mind, the things he just couldn't remember. Dark, disturbing things, a dream that he had, one whose memory was eluding him. Something about a woman and the sinful things that she had done, and Constance, with a dark shape that floated over her. Marcellus found the last image particularly troubling to him.

The preacher found himself standing in front of the house that his companion from last night had directed him to. Knocking on the front door, Marcellus waited, the vague images of last night still turning slowly though his head. A tired, worn, middle aged woman came to the door. "Welcome, Preacher McCullough, do come in." She swung the door open on its leather hinges. Ducking down, Marcellus entered the house.