Bacsliding

Life is about choices. Looking back now, I realize that with many of the choices I made, I too often played the victim. Maybe my life would have been different had I chosen a different church in a different town. Maybe I would still be a minister had I not allowed the sin of pride to rule my life. But all of that is in the past. I realize that I am the master of my own fate and I chose this path I know walk, for better or worse.

My wife, Sarah, on the other hand, chose a different path. Sarah chose to stay in her church even when I decided to leave. She chose to remain at the church even though she knew I was upset and thought she should leave when I did. I never openly encouraged her to backslide, but I didn't do my part to encourage her to stay, either. Perhaps I am the reason she recently made the choices she has, but I think not. I'm finding out that my sweet, shy, innocent little wife is far more independent than I ever knew. Looking back now, maybe I never really knew my wife at all.

I had always considered Sarah a follower. Her demeanor has always been one of shyness and innocence. I assumed that when she decided to stay with the church after I left, she was doing it because she was following her pastor's orders. Now I understand that she did it because she wanted to. When she decided she wanted to take a secular job away from the church, she did it. And when she decided she wanted to break some of the rules of her church, she did that, too.

I'll be the first to admit that the changes I'd seen in Sarah recently were an aphrodisiac to me. Maybe it's some kind of sick affliction that I suffer from, I don't know. I didn't want to see her backslide like I had done, but seeing her dabble in forbidden pleasures was so outside of her character that it turned me on. Our sex life was amazing for the first time in our marriage.

That evening at home with Tommy and Lizzie, the one where Sarah actually came home with her hair cut and her belly button pierced, really threw me for a flip. On one hand, I was excited about the change Sarah had made, but on the other hand, I feared the consequences. The sex was amazing that night, but I laid awake long after Sarah had fallen asleep, thinking of what the consequences of Sarah's actions may be. I didn't want to be the cause of her eternal damnation.

Sarah got up the next morning and got dressed for church as always. But this time I could tell something was wrong. I didn't comment on it, but I knew she was worried about Marilyn Baker having seen her in the supermarket with her hair down and trimmed and a case of beer in her hand. Marilyn is a notorious gossip and we both knew that something this juicy, about the church Sunday school director no less, was far too good for her to keep quiet. Sarah headed to church that morning like the condemned going to the gallows. I kissed her good bye, wished her good luck, and fidgeted around the house nervously, waiting for her return.

I didn't have long to wait. Sarah came home earlier than normal and I was waiting for her when she opened the front door.

"Well, how'd it go?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness.

Sarah looked up and smiled. "Actually, it didn't go. Nothing happened."

"What do you mean, nothing happened?" I asked incredulously.

"I mean, nothing happened. Nada, zilch, nothing. It was just another Sunday. Unless you count the fact that I found out that Sister Baker's husband is having an affair with Stephanie Barnes." Sarah looked at me with just a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"Stephanie Barnes? The assistant pastor's wife? Are you sure?"

"No, I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure. I got to church earlier than normal, because I wanted to have time to pray and repent over what I did yesterday. I went directly to my classroom well before anyone else got there, or so I thought. Anyway, I thought I heard some weird sounds coming from the classroom next to mine, so I moved closer to listen. My first thought was that it might be Sister Marilyn and Brother John, but I doubt she's had sex in the last ten years. When I heard footsteps, I stepped out into the hallway just in time to see John Baker and Stephanie Barnes step out of Marilyn's Sunday school classroom. He was trying to buckle his belt and she was straightening her skirt. I just smiled and said 'good morning' as if nothing was wrong, but they got the message. They didn't waste any time running out of there."

"Damn, what's up with the church? This is the second affair this year!" I said, still in shock. "So, nothing really came of last night?"

"No, which was very surprising," Sarah said, then looked at me very seriously and motioned for the kitchen table, "but we need to have a talk." I felt like the kid who just got called to the principal's office. "We both know that what I've done isn't right. I had no business going against the standards of the church, but I'd also be lying if I told you I didn't have fun last night. I enjoyed it so much that it scares me. I felt so wild and free last night that I doubt there is anything I wouldn't have done."

I was in shock, but I still managed to squeak out a question. "So, are you saying that you're leaving the church?"

"I don't know what I'm saying. One part of me wants to go wild and get out in the world and experience all it has to offer, but the other part of me, the sensible part, wants to run screaming back and repent of my sins. It's so confusing and frustrating! All I know is this: I'm going to need you to be patient with me, no matter what decision I make. Is that a deal?"

"Deal," I replied. I leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.

The next few days were a bit confusing for me. Sarah and I spent a nice relaxing Sunday on the patio, but she left early for church. When she came home, she didn't have much to say and went to bed early. Monday morning, as she was getting dressed for work, I noticed she put on a long skirt and a turtle neck and had her hair in her bun again. She hadn't worn a long skirt or a bun to work in weeks. She didn't stay at work any longer than necessary that week and she made sure she left early enough to make it to the Ladies' Auxiliary meeting on Tuesday night, mid-week Bible study on Wednesday and youth service on Friday. She was acting fine, but something was amiss. It sure seemed to me that she was moving right back into her old conservative church routine.

One Sunday morning I decided to go for a ride while Sarah was at church. When I got home, I found her sitting on the patio, crying. I asked her what was wrong.

"I got fired," she said between sobs. I asked her to explain. "I'm no longer the Sunday school director. Pastor Johnson called me into his office before service. He told me that it had been reported that I'd been seen in town doing some un-Christian things in the company of sinners. Then he asked me about my hair."

"Asked you what about your hair?"

"He asked if it was true that I cut my hair. I really wanted to lie to him, but I just sat there looking stupid and not answering at all until he asked me to take it down. When I shook my hair loose, he just looked at the ends I'd trimmed and nodded. He went into his speech about how a woman's hair is her glory and how cutting our hair is a grave sin and that I should be ashamed. He reminded me that in order to hold office in the church we had to abide by its standards. He said he had no choice but to remove me from my position as Sunday School Director.

"What about your Sunday school class? Did he remove you from it too?" I knew how deeply Sarah loved her students.

"No, thank God. He asked me to pray with him and repent, which I did. He told me that I could keep my class as long as I kept my hair up and promised not to sin anymore. I did."

"That's good, I guess, but I'm not sure why you're crying. Sounds like it worked out pretty good to me."

"No, it didn't. He gave the director's position,

my position

, to that witch, Marilyn. I know I shouldn't feel that way about anyone, but I seriously dislike that woman. I would almost feel sorry for her because her husband is screwing Sister Stephanie, but she's probably such a prude that he's got to get it where he can."

***

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Looking back now, I have little doubt that when Sarah promised her pastor that she would repent and not sin anymore, she had every intention of doing so. She tried to do right, I swear she did. For the next few weeks, she doubled her efforts to be the kind of good Christian that she had always been, not missing any services, working late on Sundays, spending time helping the church recruit new converts, and strictly following the church rules.

Sarah's church was having a week long women's retreat and revival service the following week, and it was all she talked about. She had been looking forward to it since her renewal and had been marking off the days. She said that she believed that God had sent the retreat to "restore" her. Since her renewal, she had been doubling her efforts to get me to come back to church with her as well. So far, she hadn't had much luck.

Unfortunately, just a few days out from the retreat, Susan called Sarah down to her office to inform her that she had to fly to Florida for a hair show and cosmetology conference. Sarah was devastated and she confided in me that night that she had seriously considered resigning her job just so she could attend the church function. I thought that was ridiculous, but I asked her why she didn't resign anyway.

"Because, I love my job and I really like the money. To be honest, I was really looking forward to this hair show as well, I just had no idea it would conflict with the retreat and revival. I hate that it happened, but I know its part of my job. Pastor said the devil would throw obstacles in our way to hinder our walk. This is my test, I suppose. At least the hair show will be over by mid-week and I can still make it home for the last few nights of the revival."

I drove Sarah to the airport and kissed her good bye as she entered the terminal. It was the first time in our marriage that we had spent more than a few hours apart. She called almost every night before I went to bed. I asked her how she was doing and she always said that she was doing well and was really glad she came. She was making sales and learning more about her job. Not once after the second day did she mention the church retreat. I was on time to pick her up at the airport on the day she flew home.

I knew something was different when I saw her walking down the ramp of the terminal. She was smiling and chatting with two of her co-workers, both of whom were sporting radical new short haircuts and trendy makeup. Sarah finally spotted me in the crowd and waived. She turned and hugged her co-workers then rushed up to me, her carry-on bag rolling behind her. She ran up to me and wrapped her arms around me and gave me a huge kiss right there in public. I was shocked when she snaked her tongue into my mouth. She knew I was shocked and just giggled.

I stepped back and looked at her, trying to figure out what was different. She noticed me looking and smiled.

"Something's different about you," I said.

Then it hit me. She wasn't looking as "churchy" or conservative as she did a week ago. She was sporting a new tan and her skin tight black skirt was at least two inches above the top of her knee! This was the shortest skirt I'd ever seen her wear in public. She also sported a white, low cut silk blouse with a flared collar and no sleeves. Her black jacket hung loosely over the crook of her arm. She noticed me looking at her new outfit and darker skin.

"Well, how do you like it? Rachel and Carissa helped me pick it out in Miami. They said I looked like I'd fallen off a covered wagon and they wanted to give me a makeover. I protested, but it didn't do much good. At least I convinced them to only cut some layers in my hair and not chop it all off like they wanted!"

"You cut your hair again?" I asked, shocked.

"Yes, I cut my hair again. I know I'm a bad girl. I tried to be good, I promise I did, but being bad was so much more fun!" she looked at me and winked. "How about we go home, honey, and you can make me good again?"

"I thought you said earlier that you wanted me to drive you straight to the church from the airport. You do remember that your revival starts tonight, don't you?" I asked, fishing for clues as to her current state of spiritual affairs.

"Plans change. A lot has changed since last week. Church can wait," she said, then stood up on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear. "I'm horny and

that

cannot wait."

I am quite certain I broke a land speed record rushing home from the airport. Although it was early evening when we got home, Sarah told me to put her luggage in the closet and wait for her in the bedroom. I quickly did as I was told, undressed and climbed under the covers. I could hear her in the hallway bathroom doing something, and then I heard her close the door and walk into the kitchen.

In a few minutes, she walked through the bedroom door wearing nothing but a silver cross necklace and a smile. In her hand she held a bottle of champagne in one hand and a big Cuban cigar and lighter in the other. The cigar was uncut and unlit, but she held it between her fingers as if she were smoking it. I felt the sheets rise as my dick formed a tent. She noticed and nodded toward my Johnson.

"Looks like somebody's glad to see me," she said playfully. I only smiled back.

As she got nearer, I could see that she had perfectly formed tan lines across her breasts and bottom. That meant that she had been wearing a bikini! My wife didn't even own a one piece granny bathing suit, much less a bikini. When we went to the beach for our honeymoon, she waded in the surf in her jean skirt, self-conscious about being immodest in any kind of bathing suit. She noticed me staring at her tan lines. She spoke up before I could comment.

"I already know what you're about to say, but what was I supposed to do? I was with two women who don't understand a thing about my religion. I tried telling them that I didn't go to the beach or wear swimsuits, but they wouldn't hear of it. Rachel bought me this really nice two-piece swimsuit, so I had no choice but to wear it."

I nodded toward the new dolphin belly button ring dangling from her piercing. "And that?" I asked.

She just smiled that wicked mischievous smile she had perfected lately. "Well, I couldn't come home without a souvenir, now could I?"

She continued to walk toward me with a little twist to her walk. I noticed that her sex was shaved smooth except for a thin landing strip over her mound. I wondered where she had learned to do that. I was still sitting up in bed, my back against the headboard and my erection holding up the sheet. Sarah didn't say anything else. Instead, she climbed in bed and started to straddle me. I took the hint from other sessions we'd had like this recently and started to slide down. This time she stopped me. Instead, she pulled back the cover and settled down on my lower abdomen, just in front of my dick. I could feel the sticky softness of her clit rubbing against the bare skin of my stomach. She handed me the cigar.

"Here, I got you a souvenir, too. It's real Cuban," she said, obviously proud of herself.

"Cuban? What did you do, sell mustache wax to Castro?" I asked.

She smirked. "No, silly. One of our Miami distributors still has family connections in Havana. He divided a box between the three of us for our husbands."

I ran the big stogie under my nose and inhaled the rich aroma. Sarah had always violently disproved of my indulgence of the occasional cigar. Under no circumstances would she ever allow me to light one up in the house. She gently pulled the stogie from my hand and pushed it to my mouth.

"Smoke it for me," she whispered.

I bit the end off and noticed that she had already laid a small glass ashtray on the nightstand. I put the stogie in my mouth and started looking around for the lighter. She had it in her hand and flicked it. She held the flame at the end my cigar as I inhaled and began to suck rapidly on the end. It lit and I took in the rich, aromatic smoke. I knew instantly why these things were so popular.

"Do you like it?" Sarah asked apprehensively. When I just nodded, she smiled and continued, "I hope so. It smells great."

As I sat there, enjoying my cigar, she reached over on the nightstand and grabbed the bottle of chilled champagne. She shook it and pushed the cork with her thumb. With some effort, the top popped off. She handed me the bottle.

"Time to celebrate," she said.

"Celebrate what?" I asked.

"We're celebrating whatever you want to celebrate. Now drink up. I want to get you drunk and take advantage of you," she said, laughing again.

I took a big gulp. Although I would have preferred a cold beer, I drank the champagne anyway. Besides, I'd finished off my last case this weekend and hadn't bothered to buy anymore. The champagne was the only alcohol in the house. I took another swallow and pushed the bottle toward her.

"Your turn," I said. She shook her head, so I continued. "Why not? You know it turns me on to see you drinking. Drink a little for me."

I pushed the bottle toward her lips. She hesitated, but then took the bottle from me. She turned it up and drank long and deep, then handed me the bottle. I took another swallow and passed it back to her. She took another swallow, burped, then giggled. She put the bottle back on the nightstand, then reached behind her and grabbed the shaft of my dick and started stroking it. I reached up with one hand and began rubbing her nipples. She let a small moan escape. I saw her looking at the smoldering cigar in my hand. I got the hint and put it to my lips, inhaling. I let the smoke out slowly. She moaned again and started to stroke me a little harder. I was surprised to find that my cigar smoking turned her on. I grabbed the bottle of champagne off the nightstand again and took another swallow. I handed her the bottle, but she refused to take it. Instead, she rose up on her knees, and guided my dick into her dripping wet pussy. She then took the bottle from me. She sat down on my dick, taking it all inside of her and at the same time, turned the bottle up.

It was my turn to moan.

We fucked slow and sensually for the next several minutes as I finished my cigar. I crushed the butt out in the small ashtray. We put the bottle of alcohol back on the table and concentrated on making love to one another.

Just when I thought my innocent wife couldn't possibly do anything else to surprise me, she blew me away. Still riding my cock, she leaned over and opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled something out. I tried to turn my head and catch a quick glance, but I wasn't able to see what she had. Whatever it was, it was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand.

Sarah sat up on me and opened her palm. In it was a small brown bottle, the label missing. I had no idea what it was as she started to unscrew the cap. She pushed it under my nose and told me to inhale. I looked at her like she had just grown a third eyeball. Who was this woman and what had she done with my wife? She noticed my hesitation.

"It's called Rush. The girls said it is awesome for sex. Try it for me," she said, pushing it under my nose again.

I was very apprehensive about inhaling it, but I could also see how much it was turning her on. I tilted my head forward over the top of the little bottle. She held the bottle for me under one nostril and pushed the other closed with her finger. I inhaled deeply.

At first, nothing happened. Then, all of a sudden, my head started to get warm and I could literally feel the blood pounding through my veins. My head felt like it was floating in a cloud of euphoric bliss while at the same time, I became intensely aroused. I settled my head back and let the high wash over me, a slight smile on my lips. I could feel every fold of her pussy against my throbbing member. Unfortunately, in just a few minutes, the high left me, although the arousal did not. She handed me the bottle again. This time I didn't hesitate to inhale again. I settled in for the short ride, anticipating the rush.