(This is my Accelerated Christian Education fan fiction, with sixteen chapters so far.)
Both of the children were down for a nap, and Christy Virtueson was
horny. Her first two pregnancies had not affected her in this way, but
her second trimester of her current one was wreaking havoc on her
hormones. Trinity and Gabriel had been good little babies, but she could
already tell that this one was going to be trouble. She just hoped that
her sins were not passed on to little Chastity.
She went into her
bedroom and opened bureau drawer, shoving her hands under her tampons
and pads. Ace would never look there for anything.
She grasped
"it" in her hands, comforted by the thought of imminent relief. Looking
around as if being watched, she slowly brought "it" out, not even
looking at "it."
Then she locked the door, lay down on the bed (on
her back, for lying on her stomach now caused her discomfort), pulled
her skirts up and her panties down, and shoved "it" up into her body,
turning "it" on and forgetting, for the moment, about everything but
those forbidden, bad, and yet wonderful feelings.
It started out
as something relatively small, like an particularly deep tickling, but
she persisted, for there was no stopping her now. The feelings became
more and more intense, until she was panting. A few minutes later she
came, her back arching slightly, collapsing back onto the bed, taking
deep gulps of air and immediately feeling dirty and guilty.
She
knew that not everything that felt good was right, of course, and yet
when she was in the moment, she forgot about right and wrong--which she
thought of, and worried over, constantly at other times--forgetting
about what Ace would think, whether she was a good enough mother,
whether her children would grow up to be real Christians, whether she
kept the house clean enough, their finances, the new baby--everything
that normally worried her.
Her flesh, at least, was glad she had "it."
When her pregnancy hormones had finally become unbearable, she had
broken down, asked her mother to watch the kids so that she "could have a
break," and, when Ace was at work, made the trip into nearby Sodomburg.
She had heard Ace talk about the sex shop across the street from the
mechanic's place (which she had never actually been to herself, since
Ace took care of the cars). No one knew her in Sodomburg.
She had
worn a pair of Ace's trousers, to better fit in with the worldly people,
and without the familiar swish of her skirts against her legs had felt
naked, exposed, a fitting emotion for such a sinful place. No wonder the
world pressured women into exposing the outlines of their legs, a
perverted costume. It even tricked women into thinking that they wanted to wear pants...
And yet later that day, for the first time in her life, she had had an orgasm.
Their
wedding night had been awkward, not at all the fairy tale she had been told
it would be. Ace had really wanted to please her, but neither of them
could quite figure out how. She had almost wished she had masturbated
before marriage, so she could at least be helpful to him.
She
wondered what was wrong with her, that she couldn't come from
intercourse, and when Ace tried to use his hands, he had almost gotten
her there, then had suddenly changed the rhythm, making her frustrated.
She had finally pretended, feeling the pressure to let Ace off the hook, for he was getting discouraged.
The
subsequent months had not been much better, because at first Ace had
thought that all oral sex was immoral (and of course she submitted to
him), then had finally conceded that it was okay as long as they didn't
do it to orgasm. For Christy, that was worse than nothing at all.
She
still had pangs of guilt whenever they "came together," even now, years
after they were married. She had seen herself as pure, as a virgin, and
now she was not. She wondered sometimes if God did not approve of her
marriage, because of those feelings. But God also hated divorce, so she
was stuck. Whatever her situation, she could never please God
completely. But she dismissed her doubts, for she was being silly...but
still...
She knew that God didn't exactly approve of her having
a..having "it," but if she just had it until she gave birth, or until
her huge cravings subsided, then maybe it would all be okay. She knew
the verses about covering up sin, of course, but what choice did she
have? This new-found "need" was as strong as a food craving to her. It
was like an itch she just couldn't help but scratch.
She was
committing adultery against Ace, as her conscience often reminded her.
Ace would be devastated if he found out, both as a Christian and as a
man. But...well...he was inadequate. Or at least, what he was doing was
inadequate. It pained her that she couldn't enjoy the sexual gifts God
had given her without perverting His intentions. She prayed constantly
for these urges to go away, but almost felt that she had no choice; she
couldn't help herself. She was addicted to her sin, no matter how much
victory she was told she claimed in Christ.
And yet--she sometimes
wondered if it wasn't a sin. What if she couldn't help herself, because
it wasn't wrong? God had said, "My grace is sufficient for thee," and
"God will not give you more than you can handle." And yet God had not
taken the temptation away, in spite of her begging Him to. And she was
still...she still felt that she had little choice.
Others would
say that she should ignore her flesh and keep herself accountable. But
she had tried that before, many times over the past few weeks, and it
wasn't working. She couldn't tell anyone, either, because she couldn't
bear to disappoint Ace, her mother, or her church--much less what she
would do if her kids found out!
How could she face them then? How
could she ask them to respect her as their mother, then? She had failed
them as a moral example--but Jesus' grace was sufficient! She could
overcome it! She could--she had to--for Ace--for her children!
But
she couldn't quite bring herself to throw "it" out. She knew from
experience that after the spiritual boost wore off, she would need it
again. Every time afterwards, she had a vision in her head of hell's
flames, and repented, but she couldn't throw it out. (She had fished it
out of the trash late at night, three times now, cleaning it later.)
She
felt she couldn't help her "sin." It was almost like she had no
choice--like the urges were not temptations to sin, but a part of who
she was, whom she couldn't help being. Would God really condemn her, for
who she was and what she couldn't help?
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