By Gunthar Fleck
Copyright ©2024
My wife Judith and I nestled in our bed at the end of a laboriously fruitful day of toiling in the field. Despite her modest age of 23 years old, she could still find the energy to arouse me in the most youthful of ways. We were always sure to keep quiet during our recreation as to not awaken our children or the neighbors of Plymouth Rock. I could sense she was feeling rather frisky when she whispered in my ear with the mousy voice I desired, “I want to make you squirm Jedediah.” Her words were provocative as if she were tempting the Lord above with flirtatious hymnals. Admittedly, I was exhausted from the day, however, my body presented itself for the occasion. My little Jedediah stood shrouded by the blanket that we shared in our straw bed as if to praise the heavens above. Judith’s calloused hand traced their way down my tanned and rigid abdominal muscles as she sought to introduce herself to my flesh.
We have recently initiated a cruel trick on the Lord by having relations without the intent of procreating. The scandalous act committed, the sin in the eyes of God, seemingly introduced passion beyond our mandatory commitments that came with the covenant of marriage. Once, on an occasion before this, I conducted the promiscuous act, and as I arrived toward completion, I exited Judith and jizzed in her Puritan blonde hair. Standing over her as a leader in the community and in the bedroom, we exalted glory for the deed. My seed eventually washed away from her curls due to the typical sweat and elements endured over the course of a few physically active days of work. We would giggle at each other over dinner with our little secret. It seemed as if tonight was destined to be a repeat of our extra-marital conduct.
Judith caressed my neck and whispered passionate praise as if I were the Messiah. “Oh Jedediah,” she said, “I want to taste your fruit and milk you as if you were one of the dairy cows outside.” I was electric. Her boldness always froze me, but I eventually found the strength to contribute. “Judith, do you take me to be your lawfully wedded boy toy?” To which she nodded approvingly. She paused with her strokes as she had a defined eureka moment. I opened my eyes slowly and met hers glowing wide with excitement. I had not seen her filled with this much enthusiasm since we boarded the Mayflower. Instead of moving her hands below the sheet, she descended entirely into the cottoned abyss that was our bed. Confused, I asked “What the heck do you think you are doing?” She hummed along in attraction to my cursing as she mischievously smiled and drifted into the dark realm. We descended into hedonism together.
At first, I was unsure what I felt. I pondered which lips she was using for my penetration. I stared at the wood beamed ceiling of our cottage as the ecstasy and confusion overtook my body. It felt wet but not as wet as typical intercourse. I concluded she must be using her mouth by the uninterrupted sounds of slurping and swallowing that were emitted from the sheet tent she was operating in. I was twice over a Pilgrim in a strange land. This must be a sin. There is no way this was normal, but then again, as animalistic as it felt, I had never seen a farm animal do what Judith was doing. I peeped down at the sheet to strengthen my imagination of what she might be attempting. My theory was confirmed as I could make out a fabric sphere bob vertically by candlelight. “Who is this devil in our bed? Do I tell our preacher about this? Should I beg for forgiveness?” All these thoughts stirred as she labored away in the late hours of the night. My back was arched and my legs tingled as if they were losing circulation. “Am I experiencing heavenly comfort or is this a measure of devotion I am not physically prepared for?”
The climax came after what felt like a fortnight. I was impressed that I was still riddled with a boner despite my neuroses. As I felt the familiar release build to the point of externalization, I reached down and tapped Judith on the top of her head. Her hair was damp with condensation and the entire under sheet was elevated with body heat. I shot my ropes into her mouth. I could not imagine the sensation she must have felt as she gulped and gasped at my relief. After enough time passed, she crawled back up my body, shamefully avoiding my eyes and asked, “Dear Jedediah, did you not enjoy my gift?”
I sat with the question momentarily before responding, “Why I do believe that might be the highest form of pleasure to be found on Earth!”
Judith finally made eye contact with me and confidently said, “I do not understand then, you laid dormant and became mute. Not even a smile upon my return to your side. I worry you have become ashamed of my heathen activities.”
Wanting to smooth over any insecurities she may have held, I told her, “Judith, I love you baby. I will eat the forbidden fruit with you any day.”
“Good. We are stuck together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She teased.
I watched her roll over to extinguish the candle that illuminated our quarters. “Judith, I hope you forgive me for not kissing you goodnight. Your mouth just had my seed in it. I hope you understand.”
She giggled and told me, “All is forgiven.”
For the remainder of the night, I stared deeply toward the heavens while my deeply slumbering wife lay beside me. My torment was brough on by the affliction this possessed creature drug into our marital life. I could not get passed the guilt of sin we had committed. I had been led astray by lust. Even if she was my wife, this was Sodom and Gomorrah level treason against Thee. I am at odds with God or my Family. Earth was temporary, Heaven was forever I decided. In the morning I will report her to the Plymouth Rock authorities to be hanged on grounds that she is a witch conducting the devil’s work. Till death do we part Judith.
About Gunthar Fleck:
Gunthar Fleck has been writing short stories, embittered Yelp reviews, and other wordy creative pursuits for the better part of a decade. He has most recently been published with samfiftyfour, Horror Sleaze Trash, and EE vol. 3. He also produced a memoir titled “Raised by a Glass”. In addition to these publications, Gunthar is a participant in the Chicago literary community having read his work at Read Some Shit and Tenx9. He is originally from Atlanta, however, Chicago has become his home over the past seven years. You can find him at a neighborhood bar introvertedly enjoying a gin and tonic. If approached, he responds well to vain compliments or offers of another round.
Please check out Gunthar's Gallery (guntharsgallery.com)
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