Emily could not say exactly
when she began to feel disappointed with her lot in life. When had she first
realized that things were not as she had once hoped they would be? When had her
fantasies turned out to be lacking in color, lacking in life?
All she could say with some
certainty was that it was too late to do anything about them. She had made her
choices, and if they had turned out to be the wrong ones, well, who could
really say other choices would have turned out better?
Zachary was a good man, a
righteous man, a responsible man, an honest man of integrity, a man of God. He
did not drink nor do drugs, did not break the law nor beat her, nor cheat on
her. He provided for her and was even, in some ways, a kindly man.
He was, in fact, the parson
of The Rising Waters Pentecostal Church in Bloomsfield Alabama. He was a leader
of the community and a respected man by all who knew him. She lived in a nice
wood framed home not far from the church. It was clean and bright, if not
terribly large, and it was, in all respects, a perfectly lovely little house.
The requirements for being
the parson's wife, however, were numerous. She had to comport herself in a
proper, conservative, modest and moderate way in all things. She had to keep
her voice low, her face fixed in a smile (even when idiots talked to her) and
her dress quite modest.
She was by nature a quiet
and modest young woman and always had been, but the need to act the role of a
southern parson's wife was more difficult than she had imagined. She was, after
all, only twenty-three, had gone to university, and was from Houston, a large
city, which, while it was from Texas, had a far more liberal attitude than
Bloomsfield, or anywhere else in Alabama.
Many of the people in
Bloomsfield were, for example, appallingly racist, and quite matter-of-fact
about it. This distressed her. She could not openly criticize them either. That
was simply not done. She could only show her disapproval in small ways, such as
in small frowns, pursed lips and silence.
Judge not, lest ye be
judged, Zachary said.
She agreed, yet it was hard
not to upbraid such people, in order to educate them, if for no other reason.
She tried, then, to lead by
example. Hiring Caleb Jones to do odd jobs for them was one of those ways.
Caleb Jones was a black man. He was, as far as she knew, a God-fearing man who
had never been in any trouble with anyone, and who worked hard for his living.
That some of the members of the congregation thought ill of him was, to her
mind, an illustration of their own ignorance.
Not that she would ever say
such out loud, anyway, at least to them.
Caleb Jones fixed the front
step on the porch, first, and then the fence. Emily felt that hiring him every
time they needed some small thing done (Zachary was hopeless with such things)
was an excellent demonstration of how one should behave, one she hoped the
congregation would learn from.
So when another contractor
fixed the wood fireplace so it could work again it
seemed quite natural to hire Caleb to chop wood for them. Certainly Zachary
wasn't going to do it!
Zachary was a slim man,
nearing thirty and already suffering much from premature baldness. He was not
exactly the most masculine of men, to put it bluntly. He was intelligent, kind
and sensitive, all traits Emily had very much desired when they had met, and
still did.
But... it could also be
said that his... asexual behavior was something of a relief to her. Preserving
her modesty in the face of the often rudely displayed interest in her body
parts from men at college had been a difficult and often stressful effort. They
ogled her! They talked about her breasts in a shockingly rude manner! And they made
it clear they expected sex, if not on the first date, then soon thereafter!
Emily had been raised by
religious parents, but they had been quite liberal in other ways, or perhaps
more to the point, politically correct. She was taught to dress modestly not
simply because it was sinful and wicked to do otherwise, but because it would
be beneath her dignity as a woman who insisted on equality to be looked upon as
a sex object.
She was proud of being
intelligent, well-educated and thoughtful. She demanded equality and respect.
She would not lower herself to flaunting her body like some airhead bimbo in
desperate need of attention. People would respect her for her mind, not her
breasts!
But at the same time it had
to be acknowledged that her breasts were a notable part of her body. They had
embarrassed her from the time she was thirteen, as boys stared at them and
commented on them. Even the girls did so! And that was soooo improper!
Zachary had paid them no
attention, and that had been a huge relief. He hadn't tried to paw her or even
kiss her until a half a dozen dates in, and then it was only hugs and a little
light kissing. He never tried to assert himself or force her into anything, nor
even persuade her to do any of that icky stuff other young men wanted.
Honestly! The thought of
putting a penis into her mouth was so unsanitary!
Sex after marriage was
fine, of course. And she and Zachary had had sex on their honeymoon. Twice. One
on the first night, and the second time a week later.
Since then the sex had
fallen to once a month, usually.
At first that hadn't
bothered her. It wasn't like sex was something particularly pleasurable anyway.
She could have done with a good deal more bodily contact, though, more
affection. She would have liked a lot more hugging and kissing, for example.
As the parson's wife she
had to be somewhat aloof from the congregation. She met them all frequently and
was called upon to visit and discuss things and give advice, but her
relationship with them was always a bit distant. And since she wasn't from
Bloomsfield she didn't really have any friends here.
Zachary's lack of physical
attention thus became an issue. Emily was becoming lonely. And she had too much
time on her hands, time she used in reading biographies and then articles on
psychology and sexual psychology. She tried to do things to attract Zachary, to
excite him. She dressed much less modesty at home alone with him, all-but
flaunting her prominent assets to him.
He paid her little
attention other than to smile tolerantly.
She bought and wore very
sexy lingerie to bed, but he ignored it. Some of it was quite scandalous, and
she had to buy it from the internet, rather than walk into a shop and purchase
such things. She even had to shave all her pubic hair off for a few of them!
He ignored that too.
Since they had a private
back yard she bought very small bikinis and then arranged to be 'sunbathing'
out back around the time he was expected to return home. He didn't show any
particular surprise, approval or disapproval of this when he looked at her.
She was frustrated by this,
and since she had so much time she surfed the internet, looking at pictures of
other women and then comparing them to herself. She thought that, if these
women were considered to be sexy, then she must be, too.
Or was there something else
wrong with her?
Daringly, she took pictures
of herself in her bikini – a thong bikini, and posted them on an internet web
site devoted to such things. Her face was not in the pictures of course! She
asked people what they thought of her body, and blushed hotly at some of the
crude responses.
But no one said anything
unflattering.
In fact, even though she
blushed and squirmed at some of the crude responses, she felt extremely
flattered by most of them. Everyone seemed to think she was an incredibly hot
and sexy woman! They wanted to see more! They wanted to see her naked!
She wasn't about to do
that, of course! But at the same time, a part of her exulted in so many
flattering posts. These men thought she
was beautiful, and talked about how excited they would be if they saw
such a body in person!
The anonymous nature of the
conversation was a protection against her embarrassment, and she soon began to
take even the crude and graphic words in stride. She giggled and blushed at all
the flattering responses, and posted a few more pictures to get more flattery.
Slowly, over the course of
some weeks, she was persuaded to show more. First came the picture of her
topless with her arms folded across her chest. Then the picture of her topless
with her hands over her breasts (not that they covered them sufficiently, of
course). Then came the picture of her from the side, with her chest pressed
against a wall, showing what the men called 'side boob'.
Finally she showed her
breasts, and blushed happily at all the praise, flattery and delight!
She also felt... aroused,
which was a mostly unfamiliar emotion. She squirmed not just mentally, but
physically, at reading some of the things these men said they wanted to do to
her! Some were disgusting, of course, but others sounded quite intriguing!
The site had other pictures
of other women, often naked, and sometimes actually in the act of sex! She had
ignored them, at first, but slowly, over time, glanced at them, if for no other
reason than researching possibilities.
There were also videos, and
some of these left her breathless! These weren't actresses but real women, and
some of them showed such incredible excitement and pleasure at what was being
done to them that she began to feel a desperate longing to experience the same!
Her only experience with
sexual intercourse was with Zachary, and in the missionary position. The idea
of riding up and down on a man was delicious, though, and she stared at such
videos with open mouthed awe.
She also felt that sense of
arousal, of lust, and felt guilty about it, knowing it was wicked and sinful.
She prayed to God to forgive her human weakness. But eventually her body began
to react such that she couldn't help touching herself in places she knew she
shouldn't.
That led to masturbation,
and thus her first orgasm.
THAT had certainly been
enlightening!
The same site had pictures
of men, often wearing little or nothing, and she found herself looking at them
admiringly, especially the ones with broad shoulders and powerful chests. These
were real men, she thought, like in olden times. They were men with powerful
shoulders, the salt of the land. They might not be terribly sophisticated or
kindly, but there was a machismo and strength there that made her body thrum longingly.
Emily had long admired
Caleb's shoulders, but on that morning, a hot, humid morning in September, when
he arrived to chop wood out back she felt a wild and sudden jolt. Looking out
the window, she saw Caleb chopping wood, shirtless. His body was glistening
with perspiration in the hot sun, and she stared, open-mouthed, while feeling a
powerful energy rising from low in her belly.
Zachary didn't approve of
nudity, even between husband and wife. He changed in the master bathroom, and
so did she. She wore a long nightgown to bed and he wore underwear and pajamas.
On those monthly occasions when he fulfilled his husbandly duties the act began
under the covers with the lights turned out, and ended soon thereafter.
But Emily knew that
Zachary's upper body looked nothing like Caleb. It was half the size and
had no sign of musculature whatever. Of course, he was also extremely
intelligent, kind, and an earnest and caring man who ministered to his flock's
spiritual needs. It wasn't like he wasn't a good man, she told herself
guiltily, as she watched the muscles move beneath Caleb's glistening black
skin.
Of course, what she was
doing was outrageous. She was staring lustfully at a man not her husband! This
caused her considerable shame, and made her turn away... repeatedly. It just
happened, though, that she had occasion to look out the window often that
morning.
Nor would it be Christian
of her to not see to Caleb's needs by bringing out a pitcher of cold water for
him.
“Thankya much, Miz
Withers,” Caleb said in his deep, rumbling voice as he accepted a glass.
“I imagine it's very
thirsty work,” Emily said, with a gentle smile plastered on her face.
She most determinedly did
not stare at the man's chest!
“It is that, especially on
days like this.”
“You'd think they'd have a
machine for this,” she said, frowning.
“They gots machines for
everything, Ma'am, but praise the Lord there's still work for a man like me
anyways.”
“Of course. And you're
doing a wonderful job, Caleb,” she said, almost reaching out to pat his arm.
It wouldn't do, of course,
not his bare arm!
She also had to resist the
urge to talk down to him. His manner of speech and lack of education seemed to
cause an instinctive sense of superiority in her she found disturbing. Plus he
behaved in a distinctly meek and mild-mannered way around the wife of a pastor.
“Oh it ain't hard, Ma'am.
You could probably do it yourself, seeing as how you're in such good shape.”
Emily had never, of course,
chopped wood, nor given much thought to how to do so, but Caleb seemed quite
earnest and eager to show her, and she pursed her lips as he led her closer to
the stump he'd been using, put a cord of wood on it and then showed her how he
did it – in slow motion, swinging the big axe overhead and down slowly, several
times as he pointed out how you wanted to hit dead center.
Emily watched with
considerably more interest than she probably should have had, were she the God-fearing
woman she was supposed to be!
“Why don't you try one?” he
asked.
“Oh I couldn't! I'm too
small!”
“Don't look specially small to me, Ma'am,” he said with a wide grin.
“You look like you work out some.”
“Well, I do exercise,” she
said, flattered.
That thrumming was
softening but spreading into a sort of general sense of heat that had little to
do with the outside temperature.
He handed her the axe. She
hesitated, but saw no polite way to refuse. She took it gingerly, gasping at
its weight, but he gripped her arm to steady her, then she hefted it easily
enough.
“Uhm...”
He set a new cord on the
stump and she raised the axe high.
“No, Ma'am. You don't want
to do it like that as you gots to shift your hands further apart on the haft,
see,” he said.
He moved surprisingly
quickly for such a large man, placing himself directly behind her, and his big
arms reached around her on either side, enormous hands gently grasping her
forearms and then wrists to shift her hands further apart on the axe handle.
Then his hands moved hers
upward, lifting her hands and arms.
That she was pressed back
against his powerful, shirtless body, directly pressing against him, did not
escape Emily's notice, of course. She was slim but shapely, lithe, but medium
tall for a woman, and was wearing shorts and a t-shirt given the informality of
her expected day.
And she felt Caleb's groin
pressing firmly into her backside!
That sent a jolt right up
Emily's spine, and left her jaw dropped again, holding the axe as if unaware of
it. In fact, she almost dropped it! Caleb had to catch it and then quickly
place her hands around it more firmly again.
His hands were so big! They
completely enveloped hers!
“Now you just lift up like
this, Ma'am,” he said, raising her arms himself, high above her, even drawing
the big axe up and back behind her head! The weight of that caused her back to
arch somewhat and pushed her bottom back.
Against Caleb's groin!
Emily's face was flushed
hotly by then, and her mind was swirling wildly, churning with sharp, shocked,
uncertain thoughts! Did Caleb even know... was he even aware of how...
indiscreet this was!? He was not, after all, a sophisticated and intelligent
man like Zachary!
It wouldn't be right for
Emily to think unkindly thoughts about him, much less jerk away and reprove
him! That would be sooo embarrassing if he were innocent of mind!
“Now bring it down with
your eyes right on the center of that cord, Mrs,” he said.
Caleb used his hands on
hers to draw her arms forward and down again, slowly, slowly, until the
axe-head was pressed right against the top of the cord.
And her bottom was pushed
back even more firmly into his groin!
“Now let's do another
practice chop, then you can do it all.”
He drew her hands up and
back and then down and forward again, her buttocks rubbing obscenely against
his groin!
Emily hardly even saw the
axe-head, so flustered and uncertain was she. Her chest was tight
and she was fighting to keep her breathing from getting ragged. She was also
sweating much more than her modest physical efforts would account for!
She realized that as he
pulled her arms and hands so far back and her back arched her full breasts
thrust out quite tightly against the thin fabric of the t-shirt she wore, and
that Caleb was looking over her shoulder – at the axe of course but still...!
Male attention to her
breasts had often embarrassed her. This time the possibility that he might be
paying attention only made the wild churning in her mind and the heat in her
body grow more intense.
“You wants
to make sure your core is tight when you swing an axe, Mrs.,” Caleb said.
His big left hand left
hers, and was suddenly on her stomach – practically covering it.
“You wants
to tighten the muscles here, make sure they're strong so your back doesn't give
you trouble,” he said.
His fingers probed lightly
against her stomach, increasing the wild confusion, uncertainty and flusters in
Emily's mind!
“Feels like you got some
decent muscle here,” he said.
“I-I... I w-work out!” she
gulped, finding it hard to keep her voice straight.
His fingers lifted the
t-shirt up a bit and then his fingers were probing at her stomach – her bare
stomach underneath!
“Yeah, it feels pretty good
for a woman,” He said. “You could do some more squats to tighten things up
further.”
His fingers probed lightly
against her, then stroked along her skin.
“You have very soft skin,
Miz Withers,” he said admiringly, his soft, deep voice right next to her ear.
“I-I don't... you...
shouldn't...!”
His left hand slid into the
elastic waistband of her shorts, pushing downward inside her panties, and right
along the smooth, soft skin of her lower abdomen until they found the tight,
neat line of her sex, then stroked lightly along it!
Emily's eyes bulged, and
her jaw dropped, and she froze in place, gripped not only by a sense of shocked
disbelief, but by a wild, raw pulse of sensation that rippled up her spine like
a crackle of electricity and almost dropped her legs out from under her!
“You're one fine, fine
figure of a beautiful woman, Miz Withers,” he said softly.