The Pastor's Wife

I tried to get away from my small conservative hometown. In fact, I did, for 10 wonderful years. I left for college at 18 and was never going back. I got my bachelor's degree in accounting, found a job at an accounting firm outside Denver, and after a few years I sank my life savings into a small home. Within a year of buying my house, the housing market tanked and I got laid off. I had no savings, I couldn't sell my house and after looking unsuccessfully for a new job for months, I very reluctantly moved back in with my parents in Tennessee until I could get back on my feet.

Living with my parents was contingent on meeting some conditions. Number one was church attendance. I'm not religious and stopped attending church as soon as I moved out. But in my hometown in Tennessee, church attendance is practically required. Whenever you meet someone new, one of the first questions they ask is "Which church do you attend?" If I were to respond "I don't attend church", I would get a look as though I had horns growing out of my head. Church membership was a must to maintain good social standing in our community and my parents were active members in their church. It would have embarrassed them if I didn't attend. And since I was going to try setting up my own accounting business, it would have been impossible to find clients if I wasn't an active church goer. So I went.

Which is how I met Sheila Ward. She leads the Bible study on Thursday nights at my parents' congregation. And she is the pastor's wife.

The first thing I noticed about Sheila were her green eyes. Framed by long dark lashes, her eyes were striking set against her pale skin and framed by her dark brown hair. I was mesmerized by her beauty and when she invited me to her Bible study class, I couldn't help but accept, despite my lack of interest in the Bible. I guessed she was about my age, but her husband seemed at least 10 years older than her. And most everyone else at the church was closer to my parents' age. Sheila was probably happy to see another young woman attending services.

She had a quiet presence and unlike the fire and brimstone preaching style of her husband Mike, she led the women's Bible study with a subtle defiance. While her husband's sermons preached obedience and traditional gender roles, she highlighted strong female characters in the Bible. She seemed to have an internal struggle between her church's teachings and her own beliefs about women's roles in society. And her Bible study group attracted other women like me who held more modern views, but who attended the church out of a sense of obligation.

I liked Sheila immediately. I often lingered after Bible study and helped her put away Bibles and chairs and lock up the church. We chatted about random things such as local events and favorite books. After a couple of months, she invited me out for coffee after Bible study and I happily agreed.

We found a diner that was open late and began talking about our lives, comparing her married life with my single life. We discovered we both found the conservative climate of our town stifling. We talked about things I dared never discuss with other women I knew in town. When we were alone, she was open and candid in a way no one else I knew. I enjoyed being able to speak openly about things I couldn't talk to anyone else about.

We began going out after Bible study regularly, each time delving into more personal topics. We talked about past lovers and it was clear I had had more than she had. But despite marrying a conservative preacher, she was no virgin when they married. She sounded unhappy with their sex life, but didn't say why.

Then late one night, after a few drinks, Sheila admitted that her husband liked to be dominant in bed. She blushed as she talked. She said he liked to do things that made her uncomfortable. I tried to hide my intense interest. Because the truth was, I enjoyed being dominated, but most men I'd dated had tended to be gentle egalitarian lovers and I found myself generally dissatisfied with sex. Despite my independent streak, I preferred to be submissive in bed.

I asked Sheila for details about what he liked to do. She demurred at first, embarrassed to speak about such personal things. So I decided to open up to her first.

"I had a boyfriend right after college who used to tie me up," I admitted. "It was his idea at first, but I found I really liked it. I bought a whip and had him use it on me. It was a huge turn on."

"But most guys I've been with since then haven't liked the idea," I continued. "One guy I dated said it felt like it was disrespectful to me. I didn't even bring it up with the last few guys I dated."

"But I still feel like something is missing. All my fantasies involve being sexually dominated. Regular sex just doesn't do it for me," I confided.

Sheila was looking at me wide eyed. "You would like Mike then! He never wants to be with me unless he can tie me up or punish me. I wish he would be gentle with me more. Sometimes after he uses the belt on me, he'll cover me in gentle kisses, and lick me in the places he hit me to soothe the pain. But he can't get it up unless he's dominating me. I didn't realize anyone actually enjoyed that."

The thought of him tying her up and whipping her aroused me. I imagined her naked body, bent over the bed as he struck her. I could feel a tingling in my pussy and as I looked at her across the table, I knew I wanted her. But for all the private details we had revealed about ourselves, I had never confided in her that I had been with women. I didn't know her feelings on bisexuality and I didn't want to scare off my one good friend in this town.

I began fantasizing about Sheila regularly. During Bible study, I would watch her mouth as she talked, thinking about how her lips would taste, how her tongue would feel on my nipples. I stole discreet glances at her breasts, imagining how they would feel in my hands. I guessed she was a D cup, close in size to me, but she was usually modestly covered, with just a hint of cleavage, so it was hard to be sure.

A few weeks after she confided her husband's dominant tendencies, we were out drinking after Bible study again. She seemed distracted that night and she drank a little more than usual. She was tipsy and when I asked if anything was wrong, she blurted out "Oh, Kristen, I don't know if I can take it anymore! I don't want a divorce, but I'm so unhappy. Mike doesn't get me off at all, even though we have sex nearly every day. When I try to talk to him, he tells me I should pray on it and that a righteous wife would be satisfied."

She started to cry. I came around the other side of the booth and sat next to her, putting my arm around her and pulled her head to my shoulder. I let her cry. After a minute, she sat up and started to apologize for her outburst. I stopped her. "It's OK. It's frustrating. I understand, " I assured her.

I asked Sheila if she ever masturbated to get off. She said "Sometimes, when Mike's at work. But once, he caught me masturbating and he whipped me so hard that it's hard for me to get myself off because it reminds me of him hurting me."

With my left arm around her shoulders, I rested my right hand on her thigh and told her "Sheila, you are a good woman. And beautiful. You deserve pleasure in your life." Oh how I wanted to give her some pleasure right then. Her thigh felt warm beneath my hand. I resisted the urge to rub my hand along her thigh.

"I don't know what to do," she sighed. "I've tried talking to Mike, but he won't change. And I don't want to leave him."

"Maybe I can help," I suggested quietly.

She looked me in the eyes when I said that. "How?" she asked. And from the way she looked at me then, sitting so close that I could feel her breath on my cheek, I knew she wasn't as innocent about women as I thought she might be.

Taking a huge chance, I leaned in and kissed her softly on her mouth. Part of me worried she would push me away, regardless of the attraction I felt from her in that moment. But instead, she leaned into the kiss and reached over to my arm that was on her thigh, caressing me. She opened her mouth and I felt her tongue run across my lips. I gasped slightly as I felt myself become aroused.

I pulled back and looked at her. She smiled at me. "I've been attracted to you since you walked into our church. But I didn't know if you felt the same way."

We talked briefly about past experiences with women. It was clear I'd had more experience with women in bed, but she was definitely more than just curious. After a few more kisses, she said "Come over tomorrow when Mike is at work."

The next day, I was nervous. We'd both had a lot to drink before our kiss. She might have second thoughts now that she was sober. I didn't imagine Sheila's husband would be open-minded or accepting of her same-sex attractions if he knew. And it was clear from our conversation last night that he was unaware. So I went to her house half expecting her to turn me away now that she had had time to think about the ramifications of her invitation.

I needn't have worried. As soon as I arrived, she led me up to her room without hesitation. We started to kiss on the edge of the bed. We were like teenagers, learning about each other's bodies for the first time. Her breasts felt every bit as good in my hands as I had imagined.

We slowly undressed each other, exploring each other's skin. I caressed her in ways she hadn't been caressed in years. Mike had been gentle when they courted, but as soon as they were married, his touches became rough and hurried. I wanted so badly for her to feel the pleasure she deserved. When we were naked, I laid her back in bed and slowly kissed her from her feet, up her legs, past her stomach, lingering on her breasts, before kissing her mouth passionately.

My mouth returned to her breasts and when I took her nipple in my mouth the first time, she sighed, her breath coming more rapidly. My tongue ran circles around her hardening nipples and I nipped them gently with my teeth. Then I moved to lick her other nipple, enjoying how her body responded to my tongue. She tried to get me on my back to return the favor, but I insisted she lie back and let me indulge her senses.

I moved down her body until my head was between her legs. She opened her thighs for me and I lowered my mouth to her mound. Her dark hair was trimmed short and I could see the hood of her clitoris peeking out. I breathed in her scent and started to run my tongue along the length of her slit, feeling that she was already wet. I probed her labia with my tongue until I reached her clitoris. I flicked my tongue back and forth over it, feeling her writhe beneath me. Her arousal excited me. I began to lick more urgently, running my mouth over her pussy. My hands reached around her thighs as I buried my face into her sex.

As she started to moan softly, I moved lower and my tongue darted into her opening. She cried out. I pressed my face into her, burying my tongue as far into her sweet folds as I could, wanting to taste her juices and bring her over the edge. I rubbed her clit as I ate her pussy. She thrust herself into me as she started to scream. I swirled my tongue in her until her spasms subsided, then licking her from her perineum up to her clit, I rose and settled on the bed next to her. We cuddled as she came down from her orgasm.

"Wow", she breathed. "Wow. I haven't come like that in ages. Thank you."

"My pleasure", I murmured. And I meant it. "That didn't take much," I commented.

"I've been thinking about you all night and this morning. I was close to coming just from thinking about having your mouth on me," she admitted.

After a few minutes of cuddling, her caresses turned more intentional. She moved on top of me, kissing me. "Do you want me to tie you up?" she asked, remembering our earlier conversations.

"Really? You don't mind?" I asked, thinking she didn't like bondage.

"I like whatever turns you on", she replied. She reached into the side table and pulled out some leather cuffs. She cuffed each hand to a bedpost so that my arms were stretched out above my head. Then, she proceeded to toy with my body.

Knowing that I enjoyed a less gentle touch, her hands ran roughly over my body, squeezing my flesh in her hands, scraping me with her nails. I instinctively pulled against my restraints, trying ineffectively to protect my body but could only move my hands a few inches. I moaned at the thought of being at her mercy, unable to get away. I could feel myself getting wet. When she took my nipples into her mouth, she sucked hard on them, then bit down, making me yelp. I loved it.

When she began to explore my sex with her mouth, she slid two fingers into me, making me gasp in pleasure. She quickly found that I enjoyed having her fingers slide in and out of me quickly, fucking me with her hand. She moved her mouth away from my pussy so she could focus on hand fucking me. With her other hand, she pinched my nipples hard. I arched my back and thrust my pelvis onto her hand. She slid her hand out of my pussy and rubbed her fingers along my entire vulva, spreading my wetness over me. I could feel that my lips were engorged against her hand and I ached for her to slide her fingers between them again. Sliding two fingers back inside me, she massaged my clitoris with her thumb. Her thumb slipped back and forth over me, well lubricated with my juices.

She moved her fingers inside me slower now, torturing me. She slid a third finger into my vagina and I groaned. I could feel her stretching me inside, running her fingers along my inner folds, loosening me up. I cried out as her exploring fingers hit sensitive nerve endings. I was whimpering, aching for release. Her thumb kept returning to my clit, stimulating me from the outside while her fingers stimulated my inner recesses.

Then I felt a new pressure between my folds and realized she had slid a fourth finger into me. I didn't think it was possible without lube, but I was so wet, I could feel my own lubrication running down my ass as she finger fucked me. The feeling of her four fingers stretching me open was incredible. She pushed her hand into me as far as she could go without forcing it, then slowly slid it back out. When her fingers were nearly out, she massaged the skin at the bottom of my vaginal opening, working to soften and relax my muscles before pushing her fingers back into me, twisting her hand so I felt her knuckles rubbing along all sides of me.

She continued to push in and out of me, twisting and turning her hand, her fingers squeezed together. Fisting looked impossible and painful in the videos I had watched, but this didn't feel painful at all. The pressure was intense and it excited me. I wanted to feel her whole hand inside me, even if it hurt. I wanted to know what that fullness would feel like. Her hand was so close to fitting.

"Do you have any lube?" I asked her.

She looked up at me and we locked eyes. She knew what I wanted her to do. "Have you been fisted before?" she asked.

"No," I panted, "but I want to feel your hand inside me."

With her other hand, she grabbed a bottle of lube from inside the same drawer. She poured some on her already wet hand and worked the lube into me, 2 and 3 fingers at a time, reapplying lube to her hand several times until both my pussy and her entire hand were coated in artificial lubrication.

When she pushed four fingers back into me, I could already feel less resistance. The slick feeling of her lubed fingers gliding into me was incredibly erotic. She started to twist and twirl her hand as she moved in and out of my body. My nerve endings were on fire. I was so close to coming. Her fingers were slipping further into me with each stroke. I could feel myself opening up to her. I could feel my swollen lips closing around her hand as she slid in. Finally, she began to slide her thumb in beneath her 4 fingers, stretching me wide.

As she pushed her slick hand into me, there was a point where the widest part of her hand wouldn't fit. I felt pain as she tried to push further in and yelped. She backed off immediately when she sensed my pain. She took her eyes off her hand, buried halfway into my opening and looked into my eyes, her expression asking me if I wanted her to stop or continue.

I looked up at her, feeling the fullness in my vagina, and I knew I wanted it, even if it hurt me. In fact, I was hoping for that delicious mix of pain and pleasure I'd been missing. She kept her hand still, waiting for me to indicate what I wanted. "Yes," was all I managed to utter, as I closed my eyes in anticipation.

She leaned over me and took my nipple in her mouth as she slowly working her hand in small movements, in and out, twisting and turning. My body slowly opened a little more with each push of her hand. Finally, biting down on my nipple to divide my attention, she pushed her hand past the resistance, all the way into my cunt. I felt a momentary searing pain as her fist passed through, followed by relief once I was fully impaled on her hand. My eyes flew open in surprise and she looked at me. I looked down at where her arm disappeared into my body. It was a strange sight and a stranger feeling. She returned her mouth to my nipple. I was too tight for her to slide her hand in and out now, but she began to pump her hand in small movements inside me. The walls of my vagina began to relax more, acclimating to the invasion. I had been so close for so long, between the feeling of her hand inside me and her mouth and free hand playing with my nipples, I began to come hard, writhing against her.

She kept her hand inside me as my orgasm died down, then slowly, carefully, she withdrew her hand. She met the same moment of resistance on the way out as on the way in, but as her hand passed through my tightest passage this time, the pain was less intense. And then her hand was out of me and I felt oddly empty. She rubbed her fingers over my vulva and swirled them around my clit, making me shudder with pleasure.

Afterwards she uncuffed me and we lay entwined in bed for another hour, talking quietly about what we had liked most about and what we wanted to try next time.

We began meeting at her house several afternoons a week. Although she enjoyed being dominant with me because she knew I liked it, she was a tender woman by nature and she was never quite as rough with me as I craved. But she was willing to use restraints on me and some of the other instruments of punishment that her husband kept to use on her, things I hadn't experienced in years, and some I'd never experienced.

I loved that I could fulfill her longing for tender caresses that were missing in her marriage. I loved bringing her to climax with my fingers and mouth. She came so easily for me, coming multiple times in our short encounters. And now that Sheila was having orgasms regularly, she was content to stay with Mike and fulfill her duties as the pastor's wife. She admitted that she didn't mind the BDSM with him as much now, either, because she would imagine she was me and imagined how I would enjoy it. He still didn't get her off, but she spent her time with him thinking about the next time I was coming over and what she would do to me.