Chapter One

 

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.