In the nine weeks after Martha was inseminated, Isabel found herself in terrible stress. She had not been able to reassert her sexual dominance over the men of the church.
Their obsession for her had been calmed. Like a spell broken, and it was obvious why, or so she thought. She blamed it on Martha, that little slut had taken her place!
She was their new fascination. She was all they talked about. Isabel knew they were fucking her every chance they could. Isabel was mad with jealously, not because they were fucking that Hell-bitch so much as because the little devil had somehow sapped Isabel's power.
Isabel had lost favor with Satan, and it drove her to consternation, malicious thoughts and nightmares.
The nightmares were strong and terrifying. Isabel kept falling into ambushes, pounced on by terrifying demons that clawed at her flesh, ripping into her skin as they fucked her.
And with each nightmare, the demon fucking lasted longer and longer. It took her longer to wake from the dreams.
The dreams were coming to her now as she lay helpless in a pool of her own stress-induced sweat, asleep in her bed, next to her husband.
Isabel woke each time cold inside and hot on her surface, choking on a scream, reaching out for her husband, who was always there to hug her and comfort her.
"Another bad dream, honey? Ohhh, it's okay baby, it was just a dream. God, you've been having them so regular lately. But they always go away, right? Okay? Better now?"
Isabel sobbed into her husband's chest, she had a renewed appreciation for her husband, who although not interested in spiritual matters and never having been a church-going man, still had a fundamental decency in him. Isabel would bite her tongue with regret, knowing she did not deserve him, knowing in her heart that her evil ways would sooner than later separate him from her.
He was a hardworking, simple man with a firm moral compass. He wasn't smart, and would never make much money, but he tried hard and he had within him the unswerving self-confidence of a blue collar man who found purpose in his trade and his place in the family.
Isabel had not appreciated him as she should have. In these trying times, he was the rock that held her together. He was her refuge from her dreams, from the torments Satan thrust upon her, from her own dissipated, dissolute conduct.
Isabel knew she had no moral compass without her husband. When he was not there to keep her at least pretending she had goodness in her. Without him, her wanton spirit dominated.
Isabel had lost a fundamental understanding of her own nature; she had invited into her demonic possession and she was no longer master of her own will.
She was lost without her spouse and less confident each day that she could hold her family together.
But her husband had to go to work and her children had to go to school. And Isabel was soon alone with her wicked heart. She sat alone, her hand sliding down to her thigh and over her pussy. She rubbed and thought to herself she needed a new conquest, someone to assert her authority over.
She smiled as she thought of Theo, that young, strong, handsome stud of a bricklayer.
She called Manuel to ask where she might find him and he directed her to a new subdivision that Theo was supposed to be working in. Isabel put on an orange peasant skirt with a canary yellow short sleeve blouse that buttoned up the front with a V-neck collar.
She didn't bother with panties or a bra, but she put on thigh-high stockings and a pair of dark brown high heels. She got in her car and drove.
Thiry-five minutes later, she finally came to the subdivision, nothing more than a row of skeletal house frames. In the distance, she saw a couple of houses that were nearly finished. That would be where she'd find Theo.
She pulled in front of a house that was having a brick facade erected in front and stepped out with a cold six-pack of Bohemia.
Theo was surprised to see her and stumbled over his hello, his radar was immediately on high alert. (She's a whore! he remembered).
She tried to invite herself inside, "Have a beer with me!?" she said in a bright, questioning voice that didn't seem to have the same confidence he'd seen in her before.
She had a hint of vulnerability about her that made her project a deceivingly normal, albeit provocative demeanor.
This appealed to his manhood, his cock twitched involuntarily and Theo felt stressed.
He declined her invitation, "I have to work." "What's the harm?," she persisted. "You, me, it's late morning. It's SO hot. I'm sure you're thirsty. Is your boss around? Maybe he'd like to join us?"
"No, I'm on my own here. I ... I don't need any help. I'm my own boss where this is concerned."
"Your own boss! Mmmmm. I guess you really know what you're doing then."
"Why are you here Mrs. Manchaca?" Theo said flatly, suspicion dripping from his tone.
He was putting Isabel on the defensive, but she wouldn't back off.
"I came to see YOU, Theo. Can't a woman enjoy your company? Can't I enjoy your company?"
And with that, and with Theo watching, she straightened the front of her skirt, her hand, palm against her belly, pushing in and down and cupped her pussy with the skirt fabric pressing into her fleshy mound.
She released her hand, revealing what had been touched for a second before the weight of the fabric fell away from her obviously-offered pussy.
Theo had fantasized about having her, but had not seriously considered an encounter. He felt his blood rush, preparing to take her even though he had the presence of mind to focus on his beloved wife. I am married, he yelled to himself inside the chambers of his mind.
Theo felt his cock's twitch stronger, It was swelling with hot blood.
His sweaty, stinking cock. And dammit, what woman would want to fuck a man who was already stinking from such hard labor?
It outraged him and excited him simultaneously. Fucking whore is right, he thought.
Isabel pretended to lose interest in him. She looked around, walked over the yard as if surveying it with it bare ground. The grass sod squares had not yet been laid.
