The Vicar's Wife

All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.

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When is a rape not a rape?

I pose this question, and maybe once you've read the story I'm about to tell, you will understand why.

The first part of my story happened to me some three months ago, when I was a naive newly-wed vicar's wife. I might not be much older in years now, but I'm definitely not as naive!

I'd known Michael for four years before we got married, we'd met at university, when he was 22, and I was 19. I guess you'd say I was shy and by the standard of the other girls in my dorm, very reserved. I'd dated boys, but no boy ever had more than the briefest feel of my breasts. And even that, was something that would have caused me to explode with rage, and end any kind of relationship. Never had any boy had his hand or anything else inside my knickers.

So I was not just a virgin, but an untouched one. This rapidly got me a reputation, first as a kind of Holy Grail that all the boys wanted to be the first to claim. But over the next three months, they gradually realised, it was a pointless quest, and eventually boys stopped dating me. I guess it was the deeply religious upbringing, which made me so determined I would be a pure virgin when I eventually walked down the aisle.

I'd been at uni for two years when I met Michael; he was studying divinity, as he had great plans to enter the church, and travel the world doing god's work. I was immediately in awe of him the first time I heard him defending his religious beliefs with a group of students in the uni bar. As just about everyone else I'd met up to now appeared to be a disciple of the devil, he stood out like a mythical god.

We started dating, and in the following months got very close to each other. Not physically, he never attempted to do anything like that, but we were almost inseparable. Mainly just us two together, in each others company, Michael talking about his grand plans, and me thinking how wonderful he was. We'd end the evening with a kiss, but it would only ever be him giving me a light peck on my cheek.

Well at age 20 I graduated, and left to go back home to my parents. And even with my degree from uni, I still ended-up working in the farm shop at the very same farm where I'd first began my working life. Back then I was a part time stable girl, thirteen years old, working after school and weekends. My duties were mucking-out, curry-combing the horses and general dogsbody. It was a thriving place, they looked after most of the horses for the local hunt, and there was also a riding school run by the farmer's wife. But when she died in a riding accident about six months after I'd started uni, the riding school closed down, and the stables went downhill fast, even the hunt eventually moved its horses to another stable.

So the farm was now a rundown affair, still owned by the same man now in his 50's, who had two sons in their early 30's. He also had two other men working as hired hands, one again in his 30's, and the other around the old farmer's age. The place still had all manner of farm animals, but now specialised in nothing, it was still using traditional farming methods that had been used for centuries. The most modern thing about the farm was the wooden building I worked in, the farm shop. We sold eggs, potatoes, and most other vegetables when they were in season.

Michael also left uni, but he however, went on to further training at an ecumenical college. For the next two years we only saw each other about once a month. He'd come and use my auntie's spare room for the weekend; she only lived just around the corner in the next street to my mom and dad. Most of our time we'd be in the company of my family, but this never felt to us like we were inhibited in any way. After all, even if we'd have been spending the whole weekend on our own, we wouldn't have done anything different.

Once Michael left college we began planning for our wedding, and he took on a job working in a local parish, assisting the resident Vicar. Michael never forgot his dreams of travelling the world, and as such, he turned down offers of lovely little village parishes, that would have given us beautiful country vicarages to start our married life in. We both agreed, we'd get married, and wait for the right overseas assignment, that would allow us to fulfil our dream of serving god.

So with Michael still working as an assistant to a local vicar, we got married and rented a small house on a local housing estate. The wedding was a beautiful event, held obviously in church, and we both had a very large family presence.

Then came the dreaded first night.

I won't say I was disappointed, because, in truth, I never really expected it to be anything special. We got to the bedroom in the hotel we were staying in, and he left the room while I got undressed and into bed. Some fifteen minutes or so later, he knocked on our door, and I told him he could come in. This he did, and as I'd already turned off the light, he just got himself undressed, and slipped into bed alongside me.

It felt really strange, having another person in bed, and as his arm reached over my body, his hand brushed across my breasts. They weren't naked, I had on a soft silk night-dress, but the feeling that shot through my body was a mixture of fear and anticipation. He was soon above me, taking his weight on his elbows and knees, while he began to kiss me on my lips. These were the first long lingering kisses I'd ever known, and yes the kisses combined with his hands fondling my nipples, sort of relax me a little.

Then I was aware he was now using his hand to lift the hem of my night-dress, and his knees were moving in between mine, easing my legs open. This once again stirred feelings; but they were mainly feelings of fear, not excitement. I guess I'd fought-off this moment for so long, it was difficult to understand how it could now be the right thing to do. But I knew it was, and so I let my legs be spread wide open.

Then his fingers touched my secret place, and I almost instinctively fought to get my legs back together to protect it. But as I say, I knew I had to let him, and even though I wasn't knowingly turned-on, the kisses and touching of breasts, must have stimulated me a little. For, as his fingers stroked along my folded lips, they glided easily in the fluid now coming from my ... Then as his finger found my ... I felt it pushing up inside me.

The feeling as it entered was nice, but again I was scared, so I never got a massive rush of pleasure, like I'd heard those slutty girls at uni talking about. He pushed his finger up to its full length, and then pulled it back out and began to explore my folded lips with it. After less than half a minute of probing and stroking, the finger moved to one side, and I felt what must have been his penis. I'd never seen or felt one before, not that I saw it this time, but I sure felt it. He slid it back and forth along my slit, and then when he found the entrance he was searching for, he pushed.

Where he'd been fingering me, I think he'd worked the wetness all around my slit, so when he pushed, I felt my ... stretching open. He slid it up slowly at first, and then began frenziedly jerking his hips. As he jerked, he was gasping and moaning, and then he suddenly collapsed down onto me. My first reaction was to think something was wrong, had he had a heart attack or something. His dead weight pinned me to the bed where I lay for some minutes, he was motionless apart from his pounding chest as he gasped for air.

Then he lifted his weight from me, and looked into my eyes. "Well my darling. Did you like it?"

So that was it? The magical event? The thing boys go so crazy over? The thing that causes jealousy between girls who have been childhood companions? But how could I tell him it was a non event?

"Michael. You were wonderful. So gentle. I love you."

Things were no better the next time, it felt like Michael was just using my body, and there was no sensation of love or tenderness. This second event began one night nearly three months later, after we'd been watching a film on television. We'd begun to watch this film, and even though it was obvious it was about rape, Michael and I watched intently, him holding me closely to his chest. But towards the end of the film it came to the actual rape scene, it was so graphic, showing the whole event. The girl looked like she would be gang raped by a room full of men, maybe as many as twenty. Michael watched in a trance like state as the first man forced himself on this poor girl, and then as he climaxed inside her, Michael shot to his feet. He grabbed the controller, and turned the TV off; making some comments about the filth that is now being shown on our screens. And then said, "Come on, we're going to bed."

But before we'd been in bed a couple of minutes, his arm began to make its way across and down my body, soon it was sliding up under my night-dress. He didn't climb above me like before and start kissing my lips or fondling my breasts. As he reached the tops of my legs, I let my legs part, and he was soon probing looking for and entrance. I was totally dry and un-aroused, so this made his progress difficult, but once his fingers found my..., he suddenly was on top of me. He lifted my legs up and wide-open in a similar manner to how the man on TV had just done with that poor girl. His penis pushed up inside me, and hurt like hell. And also like that poor girl, I wanted to scream and cry out. But I managed to stifle any noises I'd wanted to make, bearing the pain in silence, as he ripped his way inside me. His satisfaction was immediate as he jerked his penis; and then he again collapsed on top of me, lying there like a dead weight until he'd re-gained his breath. This part was an exact repeat of the first time.

But this time, when he regained his breath, he didn't say a thing; he just turned over and was asleep in seconds. I lay there for a good half hour thinking and wondering; what was wrong with me? Why wasn't I a real woman? What had made me so useless at sex? I had no idea, but one thing I knew for absolute sure; there was no way I would ever enjoy this kind of animal behaviour.

I went to the bathroom and cleaned myself, and then went back to bed and cried. I knew sex was something men needed, I also knew most women learned to at least endure, and some to even enjoy it. But this could never be me.

Some nights later, again prompted by something on TV we began to talk about sex. The way Michael was talking, it was as though that last event had never happened, and the only time we'd ever indulged had been that first wedding night. The upshot of our, or should I say Michael's reasoning, was that we both agreed, sex was no more than just god's method of pro-creation. And as we weren't ready to start a family until after we'd completed our overseas assignment, we decided we'd abstain.

The next few months, we began in earnest on planning towards our overseas commitment. Part of this process was physical training, doing weekend fell walking. I say weekends, but his job being mainly a Sunday occupation, it only really left Saturdays free for our walks. Yorkshire in England is famous for its hills and Mooreland countryside. And we'd go out walking nearly every weekend, walking round trips of 20 plus miles up the hills along rough tracks in all weathers.

It was on one of these treks that my real story began. A bright mid-summer Saturday morning, the weather forecast had warned of rain, but the skies certainly didn't look like they had their predictions right. We drove out to the moors, in Michael's dad's camper-van. We certainly couldn't afford anything like this kind of luxury, but we borrowed this off Phillip (Michael's dad) most weekends. It was fully kitted out, and ideal as a base when returning from a long trek. So as per normal, we parked in one of the many tourist car parks in the valleys below the hills.

This as I said had become our normal weekend activity, and as usual, we pulled our big packs onto our backs, and off we set. As I'd said the sun was shining, and the views as we climbed higher were stunning as always. I guess we'd been walking for about half an hour, when the skies suddenly turned black. And I do mean black! It was almost like an eclipse of the sun.

Within seconds a violent wind sprung-up, seemingly from nowhere, and the rain began to thrash down with a vengeance. As the force of this gale was coming across the hill sideways, it was difficult to stand up, let alone try to keep walking. It was howling that loud, talking, or to be more precise, hearing what was being said, was just impossible. Michael turned to me and held me tightly to him. He began to use hand signals, and if I interpreted him correctly, he was indicating we should make our way back down.

Then as he tried to edge himself past me on the slippy narrow ledge pathway, so he could lead the way back down the hill-side, he missed his footing. I tried to grab him, not that I'd have been strong enough to stop him, but in any case I was too slow. He fell about four feet, and crashed into a heap in the crevice between two large rocks.

This was bad enough, but if we'd have been a few feet along the path in either direction, there might not have been anything to block his fall. So even though I could tell instantly, that falling against these rocks had hurt him, without these rocks, he could have fallen to his death.

As it was, I scrambled my way down into the crevice, and crouched alongside Michael. Even with my help, it was obvious his foot and ankle were giving him that much pain, it was impossible for him to stand, let alone climb back to the path, and walk back down the hill. There weren't any obvious signs of broken bones sticking out anywhere, or any sign of blood loss.

By shouting directly into his ear, and then pressing my ear against his mouth, we managed some simple communication. From this I established it was most likely to be a broken or badly twisted ankle. But what ever, he didn't think he'd get back down the hill without extra help. So as he felt safe enough perched in between the rocks, he was indicating I should try to make my way down the hill to bring back some extra help.

As we'd only been climbing the hill for about half an hour, you'd expect it would only take about the same time, or less to go back down. But with this howling wind and rain lashing down, I'd been struggling my way down the path, almost on my hands and knees for a good half hour, when almost as suddenly as it had started, the wind and rain both stopped. Then in less than a minute the sun was shining down so brightly, I had to shade my eyes.

It was the weirdest storm I'd ever experienced, and now it had stopped, there was a kind of eerie silence, I guess it was the lack of birds singing. The only sound was running and dripping water as it flowed down the rocky path, and dripped from the leaves of the gorse bushes.

But now as my eyes became accustomed to the light, I could see for miles in all directions. And to my dismay, I wasn't even half way down! But from where I stood, I could see the whole car park, and besides our camper-van, there was only one other vehicle parked down there. I knew I had to get to the bottom of the hill before that vehicle left.

Now the wind and rain had stopped, it was easier going, but I still had to be very careful, as the steep rocky path was slippery with the wet mud the rain had washed down. So I made my way as quickly as I dare, and once down to flat ground, I ran as fast as I could towards the exit of the car park to head off the vehicle that was parked there, in the event that it should start to leave.

The whole area was like something from a horror movie, steam was rising everywhere as the burning hot sun lifted the fresh rainfall from roads, grass, and plants alike. As it was, I got to the gates of the car park, and the vehicle was still stationary about half way along the parking bays. As I ran towards it, the occupants all began to climb out of what I could now see was a Land Rover mountain rescue vehicle. By the time I'd reached where it was parked, all four men were out and standing there waiting for me to arrive.

"Slow down love. What has happened?"

"It's my Michael, he's fallen. He's still up near the top of that hill," I said as I pointed up.

"Ok love. Just take your time; lets get all the facts first. We'll soon have him sorted for you," this was the man who'd spoken first, and who appeared to be the one in charge.

They asked me all about what had happened, and how badly injured I thought he was, and then they decided a stretcher would be needed. One was brought from the back of their vehicle, and with them all carrying their own rescue packs, they all began to follow me back to the hill. They had said it would be more sensible for me to wait with the vehicles, and that they would go up the hill and find my Michael themselves. But I insisted I'd show them the way.

I ran across the field to the gate, and began to climb over. This was where I fell foul of being in too much of a rush. I'd got to the top of one side of the gate, and swung my leg over the top. But as I began to throw my weight over the gate, the newly placed foot slipped off the bar of the gate.

I dropped down onto the top rung of the gate, not only scrubbing the inside of my legs, but also landing very heavily on my crotch. This sudden whack stunned me momentarily, and I toppled over the gate, scrubbing my inside leg again as I slithered from the top rung. I fell chest forwards, and in my stunned state, the natural reaction of breaking a fall with your arms, just didn't happen. I landed on the ground on the other side of the gate taking most of the fall with my breasts. This in itself would have been sufficient to wind me. I lay there, conscious, but seemingly unable to help myself up. In seconds all of the men were gathered around me. The man who appeared to be in charge gave me a quick check asking how many fingers he was holding up, etc. And then when he was satisfied it was safe to do so, they helped me to my feet. He decided he would take me back to the car park to give me a full check over, whilst his companions continued up to the top of the hill, to rescue my Michael.

I wasn't really in any condition to argue, and actually I'm not sure if I'd have managed the climb up that hill. As it was, he had his arm wrapped around my waist, and I had mine around his shoulder as he helped me to make my way back across the field. That was, of course, after they'd opened the gate to let me through, there was no way I could have climbed back over. On our way to the car park, I told him my name was Shirley, and my husband's name. I also told him briefly about how long we'd been married, and that my husband was a vicar, and we were training to prepare ourselves for an overseas assignment in some remote developing world region.

Ian, this was the head man of the rescue team, said being as our vehicle was a camper-van it would have more room, and he'd be able to examine me easier in there. He explained he was fully trained medically, and there was nothing to worry about. So once he'd helped me up into the back of our camper, he said he'd go and get some kit from his vehicle, and as I was thoroughly soaking wet, I should undress, get myself dried, and then put on some dry clothes. He said he'd knock before he came back in, but I explained that wasn't necessary, as I could close-off the bedroom compartment, and get myself changed in there. So he went one way, and I closed myself into my bedroom, and stripped naked. I dried myself down, and then got out some clean dry clothes. Whilst I was busy pulling on my knickers, I heard the outside door opening.