The Meek Shall...Part 1: Frankly speaking
Frank
From the perspective of this hotel room in Toronto, my situation seems unspectacular. There are mostly three ordinary people in the story; me, I'm Frank Connor, my cheating slut of a wife, Carol and a hypocritical bible thumping pastor with much of his congregation as minor players. Perhaps the Father, Son and Holy Ghost play their part. I might even think of it as the immaculate deception.
I stop writing and stare at my lame joke. Now, my life seems like a lame joke. I hate laptop keyboards and sip some Molson Canadian. I seldom drink beer, and for the past ten years in El Paso, it would usually be a Lone Star. The can has warmed a bit because I sat here trying to organize my thoughts. The reason for even writing my sad story down escapes me. Perhaps it is just to get rid of my anger. God knows, thanks again God, I am angry, fucking angry and humiliated, ashamed and vengeful. Thankfully, I chose cut and run instead of vengeance and being executed in a Texas prison. Actually, no one did anything that deserves death.
I don't want to mislead anyone. My sad story involves a single religious congregation. Although I am not a believer, I know many upstanding, moral and charitable believers of many faiths. They and millions like them receive support, hope and genuine love, not carnal exploitation from their leaders, congregations and communities. Hell, some are so good and charitable they almost convince me and I sure love them as friends. If my Carol had found one of these loving churches, our story would not be so pathetic.
Sadly, there are others, like the one who seduced my wife, that are rabbit holes of bigotry and exploitation.
Before I go on, the reader might want to know who this whiner is and who the five rat-bags mentioned above might be. Actually, look up the last three. You will find lots of resources and perhaps my opponents dragged them in against their will.
I repeat, everyone here is ordinary, no knockout looking wife with big tits and an unrelenting libido, although she was a good fuck before she thought it was a sin. I'm no rich husband, too busy to fuck his wife enough. I was always available and eager as a randy boy scout, and no big cocked lover stole her from our marriage. Well, maybe the bible thumping, wife thumper has a gigantic cock. I did not ask Carol. I knew him enough at the church before I discovered he fucked Carol to know he was a big prick. His cock size might come up later.
I'm an average guy in his late 30s, not fit but not over weight either, more of a slim guy pushing six feet and a cropped beard just beginning to grey from dark brown and I do not work out and take long runs. In the Texas heat, are you kidding? Our rented house had a nice pool and so slow laps and fucking in the water were it for this non-athlete. For the curious, my cock is slightly above average, six to seven inches and not too thin. Some women will joke that size maters and others say they don't give a shit about it. Maybe in Toronto, I'll do a survey.
What I am is a smart guy named Frank Connor who does computer and general security consulting and I provided a good lifestyle for my wife. To be fair, she has a good job and makes as much as I do. Fortunately, we decided not to have children, partly because of that good-paying career of Carol's. She's an interior decorator and good at it, with a stable of high-paying clients. It developed that the stable housed a stallion, although I like to think he's just a snuffy. Perhaps, remembering what I heard in that hotel hallway and saw later on security video, I was the snuffy, just a dupe to arouse Carol to the service of the Lord.
Speaking of Carol, my wife, yes, the marriage is still official, although she may be sitting in El Paso tonight wanting to kill me. Carol is an average good looking woman nearing middle age. Her light brown hair used to be long and flowing until the Holy Spirit told her to keep it in a bun. Her face is cute and pouty and her tits are 34s or whatever. Nice, and as my virgin dorm mates used to say, anything more than a cubic mouthful is superfluous. College kids talked like that with big words and shallow thoughts. I was the same, and considering the last two years, I might have remained an educated idiot.
Anyway, Carol is also smart and a hard worker and I thought as much in love with me as I once was with her. I also thought we fucked well together, but I'm an idiot. Keep reading. I'll give an example later. Apparently, what was good for the gander was not so for the goose.
The bible thumper's description doesn't matter. From what I saw, and learned from his wife, he is as ordinary as me. But perhaps he could fuck like three men, the trinity if you will. You will understand why I think that when we get to stand in a corridor outside a hotel room.
Damn, this beer tastes good. Speaking of hotel rooms, this is nice, but the view out over Lake Ontario with the sun setting over the water is fantastic.
Our life in El Paso seemed ideal. Carol came from there; we met on the internet. That's not surprising for a computer nerd from Canada. In El Paso, I worked from home and had an office crammed with the latest tech. Internet security consulting only required a powerful terminal and servers that could be anywhere in the world these days. Occasionally I would meet with clients. Those meetings usually involved me going to their office or perhaps a hotel meeting room if they were out of town. A few travelled to me, but mostly I went to them somewhere in North America. I visited Toronto many times, and I grew up in Hicksville, not too far from here. Fortunately, I only needed to travel to set up a new client or to wrap up a project. Contractors installed building security systems for me and that work was always local. I always limited travel so that I would be home with Carol. She was the joy of my life.
Carol needed a different joy. I can't recall for sure when she got religion, but I think it happened when she did a decorating job for a local pastor. Calling him a pastor and his lucrative business a religion might be a stretch. He had a seven-figure income and a mansion. Carol gushed at the profitable contract to redecorate the overdone barn of a place he called the manse. I thought a manse was a run-down house beside the church back home. I was happy for her.
Actually, I know how much he skimmed from the believers because, as an offshoot of Carol's job, he asked me to improve the security of his network and his mansion. Unfortunately, a condition of her landing the job required her to attend the Sunday services. They tried to pull that shit on me, but I ducked out of it after the first ordeal. Carol could not, and somewhere in there she became a believer. Who am I kidding? She became a zealot. I only discovered later that her mother had raised her as a strict fundamentalist, but Carol had rebelled. That explained her adventurous fucking. People tell me about revenge fucking. I guess Carol had her version.
On the long drive from El Paso to Toronto with too much time to think, my amateur psychology made me think she fucked hard to get back at her prude mother. It seemed, though, that she could not escape the brainwashing of her childhood and the velvet sermons and rah-rah frenzy of this church sucked her in once more, although as a decorator, the luxurious trappings in that mansion likely helped. I should have seen that coming in our wedding ordeal in her parent's church. It was smaller, probably much more honest and moral than her new church. I didn't appreciate the half-hour sermon at our wedding.
Two things happened after Carol found God. Her looks changed to the mentioned hair bun, little cosmetics, and she wore modest skirts and blouses. No more power-dressing to impress clients for my Carol or her dressing as a slut for husband Frank. The other power outage happened in bed. It wasn't exactly a switch flip but more like the flickering of a short circuit in a bed lamp. Sex became on again, off again and dim. Previously, the short with her had been more like a massive arc, with plenty of flash, heat and spark. She sure fucked like she hated her mother.
