Chapter 1
Ebersburg was a typical American small town in that nobody could care less about the sins committed behind closed doors. The usual sins were committed behind its twenty thousand some odd closed doors; incest, sodomy, adultery, child molestation, fellatio, cunnilingus, and perhaps even an incident or so of bestiality. It seemed, on the surface at least, that the real sin was in getting caught.
Poor Bev Cantrell, the buxom, attractive, and wildly passionate wife of the bartender at the Main Street Tavern, was caught. This in turn precipitated a series of erotic events involving some of the least-likely people in town, including the young and handsome Reverend Doctor Wyndham Barker, rector of the Ebersburg Independent Congregational Church and his beautiful wife, Dianne.
It began on the hot summer night that Wyn and Dianne Barker were returning home from an evening visit to the minister and his wife of a neighboring town. Both had drank a considerable amount of nonalcoholic punch during the evening but Wyn had neglected to empty his bladder before leaving the party. Consequently, quite a bit before they reached home, the pressure became unbearable for Wyn and he told his wife: "Hon, I've got to stop somewhere along the road and go."
"Along the road?" she said. "Yes."
"But you can't do that. Good Lord, how would it look if somebody came along and caught you in their headlights? A man of the cloth? A minister? Can't you wait until we get to a service station or something?"
"No, I can't, dammit, Di," he said. "I'm about to burst, right now. The nearest service station is another five miles. I couldn't possibly make it. You want me to wet my pants?"
"Of course not, but-"
"Don't worry about it. The old deserted quarry road is only a few hundred yards ahead. I'll turn in there and shut off the lights and relieve myself."
Dianne Barker didn't answer.
A few seconds later, the reverend slowed their car and veered into a rutted dirt road that led to an old abandoned sandstone quarry. Dianne told him, "You'd better get around the first turn just to make sure nobody will see you from the highway."
"Right," he said.
A hundred yards down the road the car swung around a turn and then suddenly its glaring headlights brought the sight of a parked car into brilliant focus. Dr. Wyn Barker braked hard. Their car came to a halt. Both he and Dianne leaned forward, peering through the windshield unbelievingly at the tableau suddenly spotlighted before them.
In the parked vehicle a man was sitting sideways on the front seat, his feet and legs hanging out the door. His trousers were pooled around his ankles. Squatting before him was a woman. Her short skirt was hiked high up her gleaming white thighs, almost to the crotch, where one hand was enthusiastically manipulating herself. She had the man's erect phallus in her mouth and was vigorously bobbing her head back and forth. At the same time her free hand was caressing his bulging scrotum.
When the headlights of the Barker car cruelly lit the scene in a white hot glare, the woman immediately let the man's organ slip from her mouth, to protrude at a slightly upward angle, glistening slick and seeming grossly large. It wagged and jumped in a frustrated manner.
From inside the car a man's voice called out: "What'd you do that for, baby? You-you can't stop now! I-I'm about to go off. Hurry up, take it back in your mouth! ... Oh, Ohhh! OOOHHHH! ... OOH, SHIT, YOU-YOU'RE LOSING IT ALL! . . . Arrrrrggggghhhhh!"
At the same moment his big, bleating penis began to gush forth powerful, thick squirts of semen. The viscous gobs splashed against the side of the woman's "ace, as she had it turned, wide-eyed and shocked, right into the twin beams of merciless light. They plopped into her hair. They splashed against the front of her dress.
When she quickly turned her face away from the headlights in a belated effort to prevent recognition, the last few drops of the man's mighty spend splashed against that side.
All of this happened in a matter of seconds. Just as it was over, Dianne Barker squealed, "Oh, Wyn, for God's sake, get us out of here! What are you waiting for? Back up. Back up!"
The stunned young reverend then quickly threw the gear lever in reverse and guided by the fairly bright back-up lights, speeded in reverse around the curve and then all the way back to the highway, where it once again headed back toward town.
Slumped in the front seat Dianne said now in a hushed, almost awed voice, "Oh, that was terrible! I-I've never been so shocked in my life. How could that-that woman do such a vile thing?"
"I-I'm sure I don't know," Wyn answered in a shaken voice. "It-it was pretty obscene, I suppose."
"You suppose, Wyn? Why, she's nothing but an animal."
"Did you see who she was, Dianne."
"Of course I did. And I suppose I shouldn't really be that surprised, all the rumors I've been hearing about her. But I never suspected that even Bev Cantrell would indulge in such a perverted act."
"She seemed to be more than indulging in it," Wyn commented, with a slight chuckle. "Looked to me like she was downright enjoying it, at least before we so rudely interrupted them."
"Wyn!" Dianne said, shocked. "How can you be so flip about this awful thing that's happened to us?"
He didn't answer. Instead he let out a low groan and suddenly leaned forward over the wheel. In the dull glow from the dash lights his face suddenly showed great strain. He seemed to be holding his breath.
"What is it, Wyn?" Dianne asked in some alarm.
He suddenly let out his breath in a great gushing sound and his lean, good-looking features relaxed. He once again leaned back in his seat. "Maybe we forgot why we turned "down that quarry road, honey," he said. "But my bladder didn't."
"Oh, no!" she gasped. "You didn't-"
"I sure did," he told her. "Your friend, the Right
Reverend Wyndham Barker, just peed in his pants. And all over the seat of the car, to boot. But good."
"Oh, Wyn!" she squealed.
"Sorry about that. It couldn't be helped. Anyhow, I feel greatly relieved even though quite sopping. Nothing to worry about, really. Won't hurt the plastic seat cover and we'll be home in another twenty minutes or so. Now, then, back to' what we were talking about. I wonder who the man was."
"What difference does it make, really? Although I've heard she's been bedding around with that big ruffian, Dirk Smithers, I don't believe it was him. Seemed to me the car had an out-of-state license."
"You noticed that?" Wyn asked, startled.
She nodded. "Just as we were leaving. Well, for some time now I've been looking for a chance to oust that terrible Cantrell woman off our church building committee-and maybe even right out of the congregation. Now I've got it." Her voice sounded suddenly triumphant.
"You can't stop her from coming to church," he reminded.
"No, but maybe it will now be too embarrassing for her to do so. The word will get around."
He sounded shocked. "You're going to tell people what we saw?"
"Not people. Just the other ladies on the committee. If one or two of them turn out to be blabbermouths, that's not my business."
"No, I suppose not." Wyn wanted to suggest that she just forget the whole thing, pretend it never happened. At this point he felt a little sorry for Bev Cantrell. She probably wondered who had been in the car that had caught her. What a horrible situation for a woman to be in. Especially since she knew that if that crazy, drunken bartender husband of hers, Mike, heard about it, he'd probably beat her within an inch of her life.
But he knew there was little point in bringing all this up to Dianne. He knew what a stubborn woman she could be and that she'd already made up her mind to dump Bev Cantrell from the church committee. The rest of the way home, nothing else was said about the subject but it was not really out of the minds of either of them, completely.
Wyn got out of his wet clothing, put on a robe and settled down in a bedroom armchair with his usual nightcap, a fairly good-size hooker of expensive Scotch, over ice, with a little water added, while he allowed Dianne to shower first. When they were first married, four years ago, Wyn had some trouble convincing Dianne that there was really nothing wrong with a minister having one little drink, before bedtime, to sort of relax him after the day's trying affairs.
At first, she was sure that he was doomed to burn in hell for this hedonist habit but gradually he was able to convince her that ministers were only human, too, and that many young men in his trying profession today used a sedative at night time to induce a fully relaxed sleep and that the medical profession recognized alcohol, in a limited amount, as one of the best and most natural of sedatives.
There were other things, though, that Wyn knew he could never talk her into accepting. Especially sexual practices that he sometimes fantasized about. Knowing Dianne so well, her background and puritanical beliefs, he knew better than to even try.
He had often wondered what it would feel like to have an attractive woman perform fellatio on him. Only, in the privacy of his own thoughts, Wyn didn't think of it in that scientific term; he thought of it as "getting sucked off." He had heard and read in medical tomes concerning married sex, that it was not unusual for many wives to so oblige their husbands-at least once in a while. But he had long ago given up any hope that Dianne would ever do that for him.
Now, though, sitting alone, sipping his Scotch and water, Wyn vividly recalled the scene they had interrupted on the old quarry road. My God, he thought to himself, the way she was going at it, you could tell she really loved it. She loved having that huge man's thing in her mouth, licking it, slavering over it, her full lips suctioning it.
It was funny, Wyn thought, but he had never really noticed before-or perhaps just hadn't paid any special attention to it-what a large, full and wet-lipped looking mouth Bev Cantrell had. He thought about that now. Was that why she was so endowed, in order to be able to take almost wholly into her mouth a penis of the size she'd had tonight?
Wyn estimated that it must have been a good eight inches long and half as thick again as his own. Was that what women who did that sort of thing liked, he wondered, to have a huge one like that? And suppose they hadn't been interrupted, would she really have let the man ejaculate into her mouth, taking that whole gushing fountain of sperm and swallowing it?
He suddenly became aware that under his robe his weapon, was in full erection, standing straight up from his lap, throbbing and aching hard. He glanced toward the bathroom, where the shower water was still roaring. Quickly he flipped open his robe. He looked down at himself and said softly, "Wow! Look at that!"
He suddenly pretended that pretty Bev Cantrell was now kneeling in front of him. "How about that, Bev, not bad, eh? All nice and big and ready for sucking, honey. Go to it, darling, take the hot smooth head of that thing between your big, sexy-looking lips. Suck it and lick it and play with my nice balls and work up a real nice big load for me to shoot into your mouth."
Wyn groaned, the scene so real in his mind, he could almost feel the wet, velvety softness of her lips caressing his red and sensitive glans, her hand rolling his testicles around in her warm little palm. His truncheon jerked violently. He thought, My God, if she was doing it to me, I wouldn't last five minutes!
Just then he heard the shower cut off and guiltily he flapped the robe back over, covering himself. His erection went limp rapidly as he told himself that he should be ashamed of himself, having such thoughts, especially about a woman in his congregation and another man's legally wedded wife. At the same time, he thought, what man? Is Mike Cantrell, that drunken, abusive bum really a man? Or a husband, from rumors he'd heard. And if he was going to secretly lust after someone, why not Bev Cantrell? From what he'd heard, a lot of men in town had screwed her until a few months ago, she'd been taken over for private stock by Dirk Smithers, the deputy sheriff.
Wyn looked up now, as Dianne came into the bedroom from the bathroom, bringing with her the faintly sweet and soapy scent of a woman who was just carefully bathed. She was wearing a pair of black silk jersey pajamas. They were generally loose-fitting but the silk clung affectionately to her overlarge breasts that jounced and bobbled as she walked. It clung to the protruding tips, forming a straight line of black silk from one to the other.
Looking at her, Wyn Barker told himself that he must be crazy to ever even think about another woman when he was lucky enough to have such a beautiful one all to himself. His glance lowered from her bouncing breasts to the way the silk clung to the long, well-fleshed lines of her gorgeous legs. He again felt a stirring in his loins and he quickly finished his drink and stood up.
"Hurry, darling, and take your shower, so I can put the light out and go to sleep. I'm so tired."
He gave her a half-smirking, knowing look. "Very tired, honey?" he said. "Too tired?"
She looked straight into his eyes and said, rather languidly, "Well..."
That was enough for Wyn. He rushed into the bathroom, shucked off his robe, turned on the shower, adjusted the hot and cold faucets and stepped inside. As "the water cascaded down upon him and he hurriedly soaped all of his six-feet-two, well-muscled frame, he wondered if perhaps tonight might be the night and he would finally make Dianne come.
It had never happened so far in their married life. When he sometimes questioned Dianne about this, she always dismissed it lightly. "I don't know why you're complaining," she'd say. "You're not missing out on anything; you have your climax. Anyhow, sweetheart, it's really not all that important. I understand some women never do but that doesn't mean they're freaks or something. It's just-well-the way they are. Besides, I really do enjoy sex with you, even without that. It's really very delightful. Isn't that what's actually important?" she'd ask reassuringly.
Wyn wasn't quite sure. Of course Dianne moaned and groaned and gasped a lot and wrapped her long, plumply soft legs around him and humped her buttocks up and down while they were doing it and he did enjoy that; it helped him rush on to his own climax. But sometimes he wished she'd really become abandoned. Wild and wanton. The way a woman behaved when she was in the throes of violent orgasm. He had heard a vivid account of how this could really be from a friend of his in divinity school who had dated a girl who reacted that way.
"Oh, man, Wyn, it was really something!" the friend told him. "She screamed and hollered as though she was having some kind of fit and just staying on her was like trying to ride a bucking bronco. And she was so wet my cock made a slushing noise going in and out of her and she kept begging, 'Fuck me, honey! Fuck me hard and fuck me good! Oh, I love your big wonderful cock, baby. Give it to me and never stop!' "
Remembering that story now, Wyn Barker wished that just once Dianne would be like that with him. Well, not really just once but at least once. Maybe she would be tonight. Perhaps that scene they had witnessed on the quarry road had actually aroused her as much as it had him, despite the things she had said about it. He stepped out of the shower, dried himself off and reached for his robe ...
While Wyn was in the bathroom, Dianne Barker lay in bed, naked. As soon as Wyn left the room, she had taken off her pajamas, placed them carefully over a chair where he would see them when he came back, a signal she had always used to let him know that she wouldn't mind a little lovemaking, as she always referred to it.
Now, stretched out nude under the clean white sheet, she noticed that her breasts felt unusually hard and sensitive tonight, the fat red nipples already aroused and sticking out as large as summer strawberries, as suddenly, for no apparent reason, the scene on the old quarry road flashed through her mind. Especially the part where she watched the unknown man's brutally large penis jerking and jumping and then spewing out his seed in great thick gobs, again and again.
She thought to herself, Good God, what would it be like to be married to a man with one like that. She had always thought that Wyn's was a pretty good size, about six and a half inches long, she estimated. But nothing like that one.
Could a woman even take a monster like that without being ripped open? She supposed so. She remembered that the first few times with Wyn, she had been terribly tight an uncomfortable but then gradually she was easily able to accommodate him. It would probably be the same with a real big one.
Suppose, she thought to herself, then, it was that man in the bathroom right now, instead of Wyn and in a few moments he'd be coming in here to give it to me? And suppose he'd make me take it in my hand and hold it and squeeze and play with it? Oh, how thick and hot and hard it would feel. And that enormous head on it would fill up my whole palm as I cupped it. And with my other hand he'd make me caress that huge bag of balls between his legs. I'd have to squeeze them gently, not too hard, as Wyn has taught me to do with his. That's where the sperm comes from, she thought, no wonder he shot such a big load, with a big pair like those.
As she was thinking all this, Dianne was unconsciously rubbing one of her big naked breasts, brushing her thumb against the hard, sensitive nipple. Her other hand was down below, rubbing the heel of it against her prominent, curl-covered mound. Below that she could feel the lips of her vagina getting moist and swollen.
But no matter what he did to try to force me, she told herself, I wouldn't suck it for him. I could never take that big, velvety smooth head of his prick into my mouth and lick it and suck it. Oh, no! That would be too much! Especially if he wanted to come in my mouth, too. At the same time she wondered what it would taste like. She had heard-or read-that a woman got used to the taste; in fact some women even grew to like it, to love it, couldn't ever get enough of it. But she knew she never could. Oh, it was just unthinkable!
She supposed that Wyn sometimes wished she could do it for him and sometimes she wished that she could, if it would please him so greatly but somehow she knew that this would never happen. It was-it was just too, too degrading. And unnatural, of course. Straight plain, good healthy sex was fine for a married couple, she knew, but anything else smacked of perversion. And perversion was sin. And those who sinned brought unthinkable punishment upon themselves.
And then she thought, My God, what I'm doing right now is sinful, thinking about another man's big, fat, hard sex organ, thinking all those nasty thoughts while my own husband is cleansing himself so that he can come to my bed and allow me to perform my wifely duty. I must stop right this minute and pray for forgiveness.
At that moment, Wyn emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but his robe. He saw right away that her pajamas had been discarded. He looked toward the bed. She was lying on her side, her back toward him. He looked at the smoothness of her naked arm and shoulder outside of the cover. He began to get hard, thinking how he'd like to go over there and strip the sheet away from her, feast his eyes on the beauty of her total nakedness and then do it to her with the light still on, so that he could look down and watch his cock ramming in and out of her wet cunt. He knew that some couples even had mirrors in the bedroom, placed so that they could watch themselves while they were fucking. Oh, God, how good that would be.
Then Dianne called softly, "Hurry up and put the light out, dear, and come to bed. I want you."
And that was that. Dianne had never consented to doing it in daylight or with the bedroom lights on and probably never would. He sighed, snapped off the light and took off his robe, moved through the darkness, toward the bed.
He gently peeled back the sheet and slid onto the bed beside her and carefully placed his hard and throbbing prong right into the cleft between her buttocks. At the same time, his hand reached around and cupped one of her breasts, so large it overflowed his palm, where the fat, dark red nipple was now nuzzling. He rubbed it in a rotary motion and gently squeezed. He felt her respond by pressing back against the rampantly stiff member lodged in her crack.
"Mmmmm!" she purred. "You really are ready tonight, aren't you? So am I, darling."
"Let's see," he whispered. He reached his other hand down and firmly cupped and rubbed her plump, hair-covered mound and at the same time let the tip of his forefinger move down and probe teasingly between the tops of her vaginal lips.
While he did this, he began moving against her, reveling in the delicious sensation of his blood-gorged staff, pressing deeper and deeper into the cleft between her buttock cheeks.
At the same time, he wished that Dianne had a bigger ass on her, not that it was too bad, really, but it was nothing like those he'd observed on some women, particularly that Bev Cantrell. He groaned aloud, thinking about her, now. She had the biggest behind and the roundest hips he'd ever seen on a woman. Oh, how would it feel to have his rigid cock rammed up against her sweet crack.
Wyn would bet that she wouldn't mind if once in a while he wanted to do it from the back, even doggy-style, for that matter. She'd let him, all right, and probably love it, too.
He became so additionally aroused, thinking about it, that unconsciously he reached down and forced open Dianne's legs from behind and guided the swollen head of his penis against the wet opening in her vagina.
As soon as she felt the hot smoothness of his glans touch her there, Dianne arched forward and away from him. "No!" she gasped. "Wyn, you know better!"
"Oh, please," he groaned. "Just once, please, Di? Why not?"
"You know," she chided. "I don't like to do it that way. It would make me feel like an animal, like an animal in heat being rutted. Now, behave yourself, Wyn. Come on, get on top of me, like always, so that you can suck my breasts while you do it. You know how I like that!"
Oh, sure, he thought to himself, what you like! Never what I'd like. What I'd like, once in a while is to talk dirty while we're doing it, to tell you how much I enjoy sucking your nice fat tits and to play with your cunt with my fingers, getting it all nice and juicy and then how good it is as I ram my big randy cock in and out of your nice hot pussy, in and out until I finally flood your whole tight cunny with a big load of come. Or to fuck you from behind, like the dogs do, while I reach around and feel your big hanging tits. Or to have you suck me off once in a while, to feel the come rushing up from my balls and squirting into your sucking mouth!
Almost instantly Wyn was ashamed of himself. He knew he was wrong. You didn't talk to a decent woman that way or expect of her things like that. Especially a minister didn't, not with a beautiful, saintly, loyal and loving wife such as Dianne was. What kind of a beast was he, to even think things like that? He should consider himself lucky that she even allowed him to take his pleasure with her proud and beautiful woman's body.
He moved over then between her widely spraddled legs and felt her reach down and gently take hold of his ragingly erect machine and gently rub the head of it, in a swabbing motion, between the soft, honeyed hotness of her love-lips. At the same time, his mouth found one of her breasts and he delightedly licked it all over, finally taking the plump, rubbery hardness of the big nipple between his lips. He tugged on it, then lashed it with his hot, wet tongue.
"Oh, Wyn," she gasped. "I love that! Oh, you love me so good, darling. Come on. I'm ready. Put it in!"
He felt her place the big blunt knob at the sticky entrance to her vaginal hole and he pushed, savoring the feel of the swollen head entering that creamy tightness. Suddenly he could wait no longer and rammed it all the way in until his testicles banged against the crack of her behind.
Dianne bleated her enjoyment and instantly threw her legs up and locked them around his waist as he began to slam it in and out of her like a wild thing. Pistoning, pumping in a furious assault on that slick, tight, hot place that was gripping his penis.
"Oh!" Dianne called out. "Oh, Oh, OH! Darling, not so fast! I-I want it to last awhile, tonight. Slow-slow down, dear!"
But he couldn't. As he was wildly rutting his wife, Reverend Wyndham Barker suddenly once again envisioned Bev Cantrell sucking the cock of the unknown man and now the gripping, hot wetness into which his own swollen prick was plunging in and out was not his wife's pussy at all. IT WAS BEV CANTRELL'S JUICY-LIPPED, HOT SLAVERING MOUTH, HER TONGUE HUNGRILY SWIRLING ABOUT HIS TORTURED COCKHEAD!
With a final abandoned, spastic hunching, he felt his semen drawing from his contracting testicles and then rushing through the length of his foraging member and finally spurting and spurting into the depths of the vagina he was plundering.
At that, Dianne bounced her buttocks up and down on the mattress and groaned, "Oh, Wyn, I can feel it. For the first time I can feel it squirting into me! Oooooooh!"
But then he was through and it was over. Still breathing hard, Dianne said into the darkness, "Oh, darn, Wyn, why did you have to finish so quickly? It-it was just getting good for me, better than it's ever been before. Why-I-I think, maybe if you'd taken it slow and easy, did it for a long time, I-I might even have had an orgasm."
"I'm sorry, Di!" he said, rolling off her, his penis already half limp. "That-well-it was very thoughtless of me. I don't know what happened but I just couldn't control myself. It was just too good, I guess."
She didn't say anything, didn't answer and he thought to himself, what a selfish jerk I am, not to have considered her feelings, too. At the same time, it occurred to him that she had never complained other times when he had come very fast. In fact sometimes, if he took too long, she would urge him to hurry up and finish. Maybe, he thought, just maybe, she's beginning to lose her inhibitions and getting ready to really--
Interrupting the thought, Dianne's hand reached out and patted his. She said: "It's all right, Wyn. I don't know what made me say something like that. It-it wasn't very ladylike. In sex, it's the woman's duty to see that her husband enjoys himself and not to worry about her own feelings. I don't know why I almost got carried away. Believe me, it won't happen again, darling."
Wyn suppressed a groan of disappointment, knowing that she was probably right. In almost all things Dianne Barker was a woman of extremely rigid control.