The Pastor's Wife

She heard the door close and heard Barts' feet tip-toeing down the three steps then heard his feet on the pavement as he broke into a jog. Relieved that he had gotten away undetected she relaxed, laid back and rubbed her hand on the spot on the mattress where the young man had been sleeping. It was 4:15.

For the first time in her life her body was sexually sated. Why couldn't it have ever been that way with Phillip, she thought, tears welling in her eyes? How many times had she wished that Phillip would have ravished her the way this stranger, and such a young stranger, did?

She would have thought that the fact that Bart and she were such strangers would have made sex awkward. Perhaps it was because Bart had admitted to numerous such experiences that made it come together so seamlessly. Also, she had felt kind of motherly feeling for him; maybe that was it. Whatever it was, she had been incredibly hungry. Perhaps that hunger had made her unaware of any feeling of unease. Their initial coming together took the edge off that hunger but then made her even more ravenous.

Until yesterday it had only been a fantasy, a fantasy she expected, most women married had imagined. Then, last night, the fantasy became real...and it lasted into the morning.

But her fantasy was always with a man her age or slightly older, or slightly younger. Never in her wildest dreams would it have ever been someone as young as Bart... only a year older than her son, Malcolm. True, she had had fleeting fantasies about Malcolm, always with a sense of supreme guilt, knowing such a thing would never happen. Maybe, she thought, had it been with an older man it would have been more awkward. But, would that have made it more right?

As long as it was merely fantasy it was personal, within the depths of her mind. Only she knew. But now she had done it...committed a terrible sin. The thought of being unfaithful to her husband made her feel like such an incredible cheat. But hadn't she begged him so many times over the years to be more attentive? Did I really tell him, she asked herself? I did, and asked him at least three times to seek marriage counseling.

I'm a slut, she thought. I've broken my marriage vows. She prayed, knowing above all else that God would forgive her. If she were Catholic she could confess to a priest. He would say, "Go out my child and sin no more." She was unsettled and tired. She slid her hand again over the spot on the mattress beside her, vowing that she wouldn't do it again. Her thoughts became muddled and she fell into a deep sleep.

Agatha awoke just before noon. She stretched and winced at the soreness between her legs then remembered how thick Bart's erecting penis was and how many times he had thrust it inside her. She pushed on her abdomen and tested the soreness but it was isolated to her vaginal muscles. It was a hurt she had never felt before and it felt good to her. She sighed and said, "Too bad I won't be able to do it again."

Lying on the beach was different that day. It was as if she had been massaged inside and out and she felt totally relaxed. She didn't look at others in the same way has she had the day before. But today her eyes searched the life guard towers. She wanted to see if she could find Bart...to see if he was as she remembered him. But she couldn't find him. The sun baked her and she felt warm and relaxed, disappointed in a way, but safe.

It was 2:30. She hadn't eaten and needed something. Walking the short distance to a stand on the boardwalk she ordered a hotdog and a coke. As she was putting condiments on the hotdog she heard laughter behind her and turned. There were two lifeguards and two young girls, gorgeous in their bikinis. Both of the lifeguards had their backs to her but, by the mop of blond hair she recognized Bart, and her stomach flopped like she had just gone over the first crest of a roller coaster. Bart glanced over at her without so much as an acknowledgement and seemed to move the other three away from where she was standing.

Agatha was hurt. After all the things he had said to her last night. Was she just another one of his "older women" conquests? She watched as the four young people, laughing and joking, walked away. She eyed the two girls, both with slim, hour-glass figures...watched their shapely bottoms swinging seductively...knew they were strutting their stuff...knew these were the kind of girls a young man like Bart really wanted to be with.

She put her hand on the pooch of her belly, pursed her lips and shook her head. "Stop trying to fool yourself. You're not Aggie; you're Agatha, just an old woman." Her breath shot from her nostrils and she whispered in disgust, "You're such a slut!"

In the evening she found herself in the same outdoor restaurant as the previous night, eating at the same table by the railing, where Bart had approached her. All day she had convinced herself that it was only a fling, a one night stand for him...and, for that matter, for her, her only stand. She had realized her fantasy and could now go back to being the dutiful preacher's wife. Her feeling of hurt at being ignored by Bart on the boardwalk had been massaged by philosophical practicality. She accepted a sleazy episode of her life and vowed she'd never repeat it. But, try as she might, she couldn't get the pictures out of her head at what she and Bart had done. The tenderness between her legs persisted and the feeling of raw sex was still on her mind.

Agatha had slept 'til almost noon, and on the beach had basked in the sun all afternoon. She came home from the beach about 4:30 and took a two hour nap. It was just after ten o'clock. The Mets had just won their game and she had turned off the TV. Being alone was a luxury she had never had before, and she was lavishing in it. She had been on retreats with other women from the church. But had never been alone, just by herself.

She was wide awake and couldn't get last night off her mind. Trying to erase her actions she smiled, shook her head, and jibed, "Aggie...you slut." Then, as Agatha, she repented of what she had done and considered how she was going to live with it. Telling Phillip about it would serve no useful purpose and would probably be more hurtful than helpful. She had learned a lesson and she hoped it would make her a better, more understanding person. As a minister's wife, she reasoned, she could be helpful in talking with women who had similar cravings and were having difficulties in their marriages. Perhaps, she thought, this is the Lord's way of making me more responsive to other women.

She went to bed and was reading, thinking that she was so wide awake that she would probably get half way through her book. There was a noise in the and her heart fell into her stomach. It was the doorknob at the back entrance. The door was locked. Maybe she was just jumpy and had been mistaken about the noise. Then, there was a light tapping on the door.

In order to get to the phone she had to go into the kitchen. She was frightened. The tapping stopped. With her heart in her throat she got out of bed and made for the kitchen, picked up the phone and heard the dial tone. At the same time she heard a voice just outside the door.

"Aggie," it said, just loudly enough to be heard. "Aggie," the voice said again and, biting her lip, she put the phone back in its cradle.

A flush surged throughout her body and the words echoed in her brain, Aggie, you're a slut. All the conversation she had had with herself about what she did yesterday and how it was going to affect her life got filed in a different folder and she went to the door. It was Bart. She opened the door and her heart surged. She wanted to hug him, to kiss him, to take him by the hand and run back to the bedroom.

Another voice in her brain said, You're really not a slut Agatha. "What on earth are you doing here Bart?" Agatha said. "Come in before someone sees you." The light was out in the kitchen. She shut the door and coaxed him to the side. "What has gotten into you?" She said it in a scolding way but almost pinched herself to prove she wasn't dreaming.

"You said that we could do it again tonight Aggie," he said, with a sheepish grin on his face.

"It won't work Bart. Last night should never have happened. I'm a married woman. I'm over twice your age. I'm married to a minister. I think you should leave...now!" The voice inside her head said, "Slut," and laughed.

Bart, his eyes looking straight into hers, didn't move. "I know you're upset with me Aggie. I had to ignore you today. I wanted to talk with you so badly but I didn't want to take the chance of anybody else finding out about you and me."

Her knees almost buckled and she asked herself how a near teenager could be having this kind of effect upon her. But the soreness in her vagina, and the warmth that surrounded it told her why. "I, I thought you said you told your friends about me ...that I looked like your aunt."

He shook his head and breathed through his nose. "She doesn't exist Aggie. I only told you that so I could start a conversation with you. I saw you on the beach yesterday and just wanted see you up close ...to talk with you."

The voice of reason in her mind said, you're not a slut Agatha. She hardened herself again and said, "And fuck me? So you could have another hash mark on you sleeve? So you can tell some other old woman about the minister's wife you fucked?"

He blinked and swallowed. "I, I just thought you were beautiful Aggie. I just wanted to talk with you." His eyes were pleading. "I, I...I wouldn't be human if I didn't think about it Aggie. But I swear I just wanted to talk with you." He bit his lip then said, "Aggie, you made it so easy for me."

You slut, the voice said again. She wanted to resist but the hurt look on Bart's face opened her heart. Agatha wanted to insist that he leave, to open the door, to push him out. But Aggie wanted him to stay. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheeks and lips. Bart responded, hugging her, then cupping the cheeks of her ass, pulled her against him. She felt the rising throb of his rapidly growing erection as it swelled against her. Agatha was sent to her room.

His right hand went below the short hem of her cotton nightgown and she spread, allowing his fingers wet access to her glistening lips. You're a slut Aggie, the voice said again and she responded, Fuck you, sliding her hands inside Bart's blue life guard trunks, wrapping her fingers around the thick phallus that last night had stretched her so unmercifully.

She thought after last night's romp that she might be more restrained. But she moaned and squirmed when his finger skated in her pussy. She wanted his cock inside her so badly, but wanted to show him how grateful she was that he was with her, instead of the young girl in the bikini. Peeling the elastic waistband of his trunks over his hips, she pulled them down. His stiff erection caught in the band and snapped up, slapping on his belly. It's so hard, she thought.

Her arms slid to his ass and she dropped to her knees, took his fat cock in her mouth and sucked and licked and sucked until he froze and quivered, until his knees buckled and his warm sperm surged into her mouth. She swallowed then looked up into his eyes, her lips coming off the head of his cock, stretching gossamer threads of semen that snapped when she lowered her head and suckled his balls.

Prior to this week, even in her wildest imaginings, she never considered this kind of eating in the kitchen. But, as she lay with the soles of her feet propped on the edge of the table, her nightgown up to her belly, her inner thighs being tickled by Bart's ears, she floated in the ambience of her pussy being laved by his soft tongue. Every sensation was being delighted: her electrically charge clitoris, the sound of Bart's primal grunts and slurps, the aroma of her own pussy on his fingers that caressed her lips. She was on fire. Swallowing his cum hadn't appealed to her last night, until she had done it. Tonight, it tasted garlicky, last night it didn't. The kinkiness of having done it a second time flipped another switch and propelled her into a sexual jet stream.

Bart was naked on the bed and Aggie was on her knees. His limp cock was in her mouth. But even limp, it was a mouthful. As she suckled him her lips gathering the loose skin of his penis into wrinkles and let them spring back, the thick mass beginning to pulsate and take up more room in her mouth. She had never even considered it before but she reached under his balls, slid her middle finger on the space behind them and tickled his asshole. She rimmed it and pressed, feeling his sphincter close around her first knuckle. The excitement of such a kinky discovery triggered a mini orgasm which quickly passed.

He was hard again and this time Aggie wanted to assert herself. She wanted to fuck Bart rather than being fucked by him. She had never been on top before and was eager to look down into her lover's eyes. "I want to be on top baby," she said. "I want to fuck you," To accommodate her Bart rolled on his back in the middle of the bed, his stubby peg pointing to the ceiling. Riveting his eyes she straddled him. He reached up and cupped her breasts in his hands. "Not yet," she murmured brushing them aside and, in an animated voice, said, "I want to be able to see you going inside me."

Grasping his bulky cock she moved her hips forward, slid the purple head along her slippery trough until it dipped into the dent of her hole. Completing the socket she bent her head forward to see the miracle of sexual penetration and pressed downward. She watched. As his purple head popped inside her vaginal ring she breathed a reverse whoosh through the tightened circle of her lips. Then, tilting her head back, like a she wolf baying for her mate, she surrendered to gravity, letting the walls of her slippery pussy clutch the bulky organ, slowly massaging it as her body impaled itself on him. Watching it disappear and feeling it fill her cunt she matched its progress with a long "AAAAHHHH."

She just wanted to feel him inside her for a while so she lowered her breasts to his chest, feeling his curly chest hair tickling her nipples, and flattened her soft globes against his muscular body. At the same time she hooked his calf muscles with the backs of her ankles, put her arms around his neck and touched his nose with hers. As she gazed into his encouraging eyes the sensation of his thick cock inside her was indescribable...just wonderful. Aggie wanted to fuck Bart, to ride him.

But she needed to savor their togetherness. Their lips touched. She felt his hands cupping her ass, gently spreading her cheeks and she winced as his finger flicked her anus. His warm body beneath her, his cock in the clutch of her pussy, his breath on her neck, highlighted by the sensual tingling of her asshole, held her suspended in a netlike nimbus. They kissed again, their lips softly cushioning, their tongues cavorting in lingual play.

Bart, for such a young person, was incredibly patient. Aggie knew his experience with older women taught him valuable lessons, lessons from which she was benefiting. She thought that all young men should be trained in this way. She knew he wanted to move. He wiggled his hips beneath the press of her ass, angling his cock left and right, leveraging pleasing pressure as it did, exciting Aggie's need to fuck.

She untangled her ankles from Bart's legs, pushed on his shoulders with her hands and raised herself in the saddle. With the tip of her tongue protruding between the corners of her lips she raised up. Bart's cock, like the plunger of a tire pump, sucked out, the stretched walls of Aggie's pussy closing behind his swollen head, sending shivers from the back of her neck to the tips of her little toes.

She closed her eyes, touching the center of her ovalled lip with the tip of her tongue, sucking air through her nostrils at the thrilling sensation of Bart's engorged pole inflaming the total circumference of her sexual core. Her ass flattened on Bart's thighs and he bucked, impelling her rise.

His cock massaged her insides, exciting her g-spot, which ballooned with each stroke. She knew from last night that Bart had tremendous staying power and as she rode, like a bronc rider, up and down, again and again, her ass slapped his pommeled saddle and she rubbed her tits and flipped her hair, each stroke bringing her closer to an explosion.

She knew that Bart was holding back and wondered if she wasn't being selfish in withholding her own climax. But she knew that their combined orgasms would be an ecstatic tightening and a sudden release, the surging infusion of his young semen and the deluge of her own eruption that would be a surreal journey. It would leave a sexual emollient, an ointment for their inflamed parts and a pheromone for their next ascent.

Up and down, slap! slap! slap! She bit her lip and sucked air through her nostrils, striving to extend her boundaries before she hurtled over the edge. She clamped her teeth and, with the fuse sputtering toward the charge, wondered if this would be the only week in her life she would attain sexual satisfaction. She thought of Phillip and silently begged him, please! Then, she closed her eyes and let go.

It started like a cramp in her uterus, the kind she had experienced at the start of her periods. It erased all sound and made the room a vacuum. Her eyes captured Bart's lips moving in slow motion. She read the words as he bucked up hard, his eyes like headlights and his pupils circled in white. But the words were on the other side of a canyon.

Her cramp, like a giant balloon released its air and she felt that her extremities, her fingers, her toes, her scalp were being sucked in with the escaping air and that she would be turned inside-out. But it was like someone was intermittently stopping the air with his fingers and her insides jerked and released.

She felt the surge from her bursting g-spot as the words that Bart's lips had formed echoed in her ears, Oh Aggieeeee, Fucccccccccck, Ohhhhhhhhh, Ohhhhhhhhh, Ahhhhhhhh! And she felt her warm cum squirt past her tightened o-ring, flooding Bart's stomach and balls. She felt his cum slicken her gripping passage as she continued riding his huge, driving cock.

As she desperately fucked the warm body below she heard her own banshee-like shrieks echoing in her ears, feeling the gouts of air still escaping from the balloon, but with decreasingly powerful spurts. With silent laughter she formed the words, "I'm melting, I'm melting." The walls of the room started closing in and she viewed Bart's face through a telescope that narrowed, narrowed to a pin point and finally closing to black.

She awoke and felt a balmy body behind her, a hard but pulsing warmth between her legs, and an arm between her arm and her side. A hand gently fondled her breast and fingers tenderly rolled her nipple as if they were fine tuning a radio program. She felt soft lips kissing her shoulders and neck, and a voice that whispered, "I love you Aggie."

She squeezed her eyelids tight, not wanting tears to escape. The words that she had thought earlier in the evening came into her mind again, "Please Phillip." She didn't want this night to end. And, if there were more nights, she didn't want this week to end and send her back into a world of sexual desolation. The words echoed again, Please Phillip. She was not the same woman who came down on the train just a day ago. And she knew that, one way or the other, whether it was Phillip or somebody else, she was not going to get old and dried up without discovering what her body was capable of. "I love you too Bart," she whispered. "You have shown me so much."

"And there is so much more," he murmured. "There is so much more..."