Judgmental Church-wife [F26/F33/M40] [Masturbation][Exhibitionism][Voyeurism]

Victor and I had already been married for several years at this point and fully committed ourselves to each other and the health and growth of our intimacy and connectedness. Of all our friends and family, we knew–with some sadness for the others–that we had the strongest relationship and a jealousy-inducing sexual life. We were, without a doubt, a power couple saturated with trust and true love. We liked it that way!

Lydia was an acquaintance of both of us; we’d all met briefly at a small church-sponsored event in our subdivision. Victor and I are far from atheists, but harbor a justified hatred for the contrived and pride-fueling traditions of religion. One of the many reasons for our distaste for organized religion was ironically captured by the frequent, yet silent, judgmental looks Lydia gave us at the event. She was obviously extremely displeased with our presence, but neither of us could really figure out why. Something, though, had set off Lydia’s judgment engine, and it was running on overdrive.

We didn’t mention it to each other at the event, assuming that Lydia just didn’t like one of us. So, neither of us knew the other was receiving the same judgmental looks. Lydia seemed careful to make sure both received them individually, and we certainly did.

After the event, I mentioned to Victor what had happened to me. He relayed to me his own experience with the prudish judge, expressing total confusion about what her issue could have been. It was one thing to be a little judgmental, but another thing entirely to fire dagger-filled looks all night at every opportunity. We talked and reassured each other that neither had been offensive or said something out of line. We hadn’t.

In order to resolve the issue (it bothered both Victor and me for several days), we invited her over to our house for a discussion about homeschooling. “We have some questions about curriculum, and we are hoping you can help answer them for us.”

Lydia obliged, chalking the experience up to “ministry” or “outreach,” something she could share proudly at her next Bible study group night. For Victor and me, the stated purpose of the meeting would let her think she would have the upper hand around us. She wouldn’t, but we would absolutely let her think that for as long as she wanted. After all, she had to save us from our worldly ways somehow.

About 20 minutes and two cups of very bland tea into the discussion, Victor asked what Human Sexuality books she recommended for older students. Lydia glared silently at him, seeming completely unable to cope with hearing the word “sexuality” out loud and construct a reply that was sufficiently rebuking.

“That…that isn’t a topic our church feels is appropriate to talk about, much less teach. We believe it leads to…promiscuity and dangerous desires.” Lydia held her stare at Victor and me, an almost exact copy of what she’d given just a few nights before. It was clear that the “we” she used didn’t include us; the mention of “promiscuity and desires,” however, did. Granted, I guess she did have us nailed. I defended the idea of having discussions about sex, “Well, I’d say it’s a topic worth covering. Otherwise, you’re taught to suppress and misunderstand everything, trapped in ignorance and an unguided curiosity to stumble through later in life.” I looked hard at Lydia, not backing down from the judgmental wall that advanced toward me. “You may do well to have that talk yourself–better late than never, girlfriend!”

“Yes, well, I think that’s the problem with the world. Everything is too loose.” Lydia doubled down on her resistance to anything sexual; even the mention of it made her feel polluted.

“I get the impression you’re quite the opposite of loose. Colossally tight would apply to you, I’m sure. All of you.” Victor winked at me, knowing I got his inappropriate, but accurate, joke. At that, he excused himself to check on something grilling outside. He thought it best to let me handle the next few moments and exchanges on my own.

“You’d do well to loosen up sexually.” I knew the statement would shock her; I wanted Lydia to be shocked. Very shocked. So I added a question, “Have you ever had an orgasm, Lydia? Masturbated? Own a vibrator?” The shock was palpable. It hung in the air like a delicious tension waiting to be cut by whoever spoke next.

Lydia had to reply or let it be assumed that she could answer “yes” to any, or worse—all, of those questions. The fact that she was a mother horrified her in the moment, knowing it was proof she’d once had sex, and it proved to me that she had. Obviously I was in favor of that, but it was clear she avoided sexuality at all costs, even inside marriage.

Of course she replied, ”no” to everything, and looked at me with thick judgment. I could see on Lydia’s face how she believed I was absolutely going to hell for ever once having an orgasm. Or masturbating. Or owning a sex toy. Or even saying any of those words.

I smiled at the amount of shock I had caused. Not wanting any of it to go to waste, I told Lydia to wait while I went upstairs to get my vibrator for a show-and-tell. Unable to protest before I left the room, she sat waiting while sipping on her tea and repositioning the bookmark in her leather-bound Bible.

I came back with my favorite vibrator and admiringly held it out for Lydia to see. Aghast, horrified (but secretly fascinated and curious), Lydia laid her eyes on the abomination before her—a machine to incite and reward lust. Worse, it was specifically designed to be pressed against genitalia.

Lydia had only two things ever pressed against her genitals—modest, white underpants and toilet paper. Anything else would have constituted immorality. Actually, she did force herself to clean there every shower, but prayed for forgiveness each time afterward.

Enjoying myself, I turned it on and offered to let Lydia hold it. She did without fully realizing what she was doing, but with a huge show of how unholy it was, all pink and soft—surprisingly soft— and vibrating in her hand. It was like Satan’s own penis was held there in her own chaste, porcelain hands of religious holiness. She was looking at the nexus of evil. An object of sex.

I couldn’t resist pushing her even farther, and moved next to her in her chair, barely brushing my hip against her shoulder. My hands moved down to hers, wrapping my own fingers one-by-one around Lydia’s hand holding the pulsing vibrator. Her hands were, in fact, very soft, I realized.

I anticipated her unbelief at this move, and made Lydia’s reality completely shatter when I helped her cycle through the various vibration modes. She was made to feel the increased power and sexual chaos in her hands. Her alarm couldn’t hide her obvious curiosity about how women hold this…this “thing” against our clits. I wondered if she even knew enough to know that the clitoris was a thing. Of course, in her mind she didn’t use that word. It likely was replaced with “that” or “that region,” something unidentifiable and innocuous.

She protested against the idea altogether, but I didn’t miss how Lydia was squeezing her weak thighs together, and not necessarily in defense. Something was happening to her in that moment.

Seeing her disgust, but noticing that she didn’t immediately put it down, I softly ventured another question—“Have you ever seen a female orgasm, Lydia?” That tipped Lydia over the first of many edges. She set the vibrator down, still vibrating and now skittering across the table.

Just then, Victor walked back inside. “And what’s all this, honey? How’s the curriculum conversation going?” Noticing the vibrator still making its way across the table and nearing the edge, he picked it up and held it up for me to see. “I’m guessing the conversation moved away from curriculum?”

I just smiled and didn’t say a word, just coyly winked, nodding in the direction of Lydia. Victor said to Lydia, “I recognize this; this isn’t yours, obviously. Did I interrupt?” Lydia moved toward the door and Victor made sure to move out of her way.

I spoke up saying, “We were just discussing the beauty of the female orgasm.” “Oh, were you? Indeed it is something to behold. One of the best parts of our marriage, I’d argue. One of the many beauties of womanhood.”

Lydia paused at the door. “Best parts?! What about loving God together? What about raising a family or becoming better church members? Those are what life is about, not filthy pleasure and…sex tricks.”

Victor loved a good argument, especially ones he knew he could win. “Well, you may have a point there. Lydia, who made you?” “God,” was the curt, confident and condemning answer. “And whose idea was it to build bodies that can orgasm?”

Silence fell over the room.

Lydia hadn’t once stopped in her life to consider the origins of sex, only the moral rules about it passed down through men’s traditions from church to home. She remained silent, unable to force either the abominable truth or an obvious lie out of her mouth.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” Victor pressed the same topic as I had already. I chimed back in, “We’ve already covered that ground. She apparently has no idea what she’s missing.” “That’s a serious shame. Lydia, you’re depriving your body of something it was designed to do. That’s quite unhealthy.” Again, Victor loves a good argument.

He turned to me and said, “Care to demonstrate for our guest? …If you can, under pressure with an audience, that is.” I gave a coy smile and said, “Well, I think it’s something she ought to see. I dare not deny her the chance. God knows it may never come again! Care to assist me?” I motioned toward the vibrator in his hands and climbed up onto the kitchen table.

Lydia was still near the door, so Victor motioned for her to take a seat back at the table. “My wife isn’t shy; here, take a seat right next to her so you can get a clear view of her during this. It won’t take long if she puts her mind to it.” Lydia surprisingly sat down at the seat at the other end of the table, though as far from me as she could get. While distanced, it did give her the absolute best vista of the action about to take place.

Just as Lydia got settled into her chair, sitting stiff and perfectly straight with her arms crossed, I swung around so I faced Lydia at the end of the table. With my feet planted on the table top, I let my knees fall away from each other. Lifting the bottom of my dress, I revealed my simple pair of pink panties, as sexy as they were understated. A small patch of darker pink showed in the middle of my crotch, evidence of the excitement over the prospect of showing off how amazing orgasms are with the help of my husband.

Victor turned on the vibrator to its lowest setting and gently pressed it against my wet spot. I responded by biting my lower lip and letting my head fall back slightly. I grabbed Victor’s wrist and pulled his hand up so the vibrator sat directly on my clit, swelling even more beneath my panties. My panties grew increasingly wetter, the arousal spreading through my body.

I could feel as my chest flushed red. My breasts grew more sensitive, and my nipples hardened and were showing visibly through my dress top. I rarely wore a bra around the house, and today was no exception. Not to let them go ignored, Victor ran his free hand lightly over them. He always did love how my breasts looked and felt when I was turned on.

Victor glanced at Lydia to see if she was paying attention. Her eyes were locked on me, glancing up and down my body. Her frown still defined her face, a look of disgust still disguising her intense, repressed curiosity. I pulled down the top of my dress so Lydia could see what an aroused woman’s breasts looked like. “A little different than your everyday boobs, aren’t they? They feel different too. A little fuller. More sensitive. And Victor says the skin is extra soft when I’m turned on.”

I was speaking in slightly broken sentences, not able to get out more than a few words in a single breath. My desire had grown to the point that it affected my heart rate and breathing–both of which took priority over narration. I went silent, content to look at Victor’s face while he pleasured me. Victor ran his fingertips up and down my thighs, grazing my panties when moving from one to the other. On his last trip across, he pulled my panties aside, revealing my wet and swollen pussy.

Lydia’s mouth fell open slightly as she caught sight of it. It was the first vagina she’d ever fully seen, and certainly the first one in a state of arousal. It was beautiful in a way she couldn’t possibly understand or describe. I kept my pussy shaved except for a short and V-shaped patch above it. No doubt her own pussy had never felt a razor, further hiding its beauty behind whatever growth she never removed. Seeing mine in full view now, she was aware, likely for the first time ever, that she’d never allowed her body to reach the condition that mine was now in. A hint of jealousy crept in to join her curiosity.

I spread my legs open even further, letting my lips part. Another few strokes of the vibrator up and down my pussy left it covered in my wetness. The vibrator was now as slick as my pussy, free to slide up and down without resistance. I sat up just enough to prop myself up on one arm, using my free hand to slip my panties down my thighs and off my left foot. I kept them there, hanging from my ankle. They were so close to Lydia there that I knew she could see how soaked they were.

Then, instead of just resting back on my one hand, I took Victor’s hand in mine. I guided the tip of the vibrator where I wanted it most, pressing it into my now very hard and very needy clit. With nothing to absorb my wetness, it dripped freely onto the table just in front of her.

Victor dipped his finger into the small pool and offered it to Lydia. “See? The body is made for pleasure; it even makes its own lubricant. And it’s the absolute best.” He held out his index finger, glistening with his wife’s wetness, toward Lydia. “Here, just feel how slick and warm it is.” Lydia still hadn’t closed her mouth from the moment where she first saw the source of that fluid. Now it snapped shut in judgment; a prudish alarm ravaged her face. “It’s perfectly natural and perfectly safe.” He held out his two wet fingers closer toward her. “Better get a feel before it dries; it’s ethereal stuff.”

I was now grinding myself into the vibrator, pulsing my body into a rhythm that was gaining speed and intensity. Just as Victor gave up and began to pull his hand back, Lydia reached out and slid her fingertip across Victor’s. The curiosity had been too much, and now Lydia was experiencing how amazing female arousal was. His fingers now dry of my wetness, he returned them to my thighs and rubbed up and down my smooth, sensitive lips on either side of the vibrator. Out of the corner of Victor’s field of view, he saw Lydia scratch her nose as if she had an itch. He knew, however, that she had actually just snuck in a quick smell of his wife’s pussy.

Lydia’s chest heaved as she surreptitiously sucked air in through her nose, her finger just near enough to her nose that her lungs filled with the scent of my arousal. My sex was now inside her body. My pheromones were filling Lydia’s lungs under her very proper and modest clothing.

“Make me cum, baby.” I had worked myself up to the point where I couldn’t bear the tension in my body any longer. I grabbed my tits, alternating between them as my hips thrusted up and down. “Gladly, sweetheart” was my husband’s instant reply.

“Are you ready for this, Lydia?” Victor noticed that her left hand had disappeared under the table. He could see that it was pressed tightly between her legs, as if she had to pee but was holding it in. The horror of her own arousal was beyond her ability to ignore. Victor looked back at me, my entire body tense with the impending orgasm. He said to me, “I think our friend has realized sex isn’t as weak and controllable as her traditions have taught her.”

I didn’t respond because I couldn’t manage that much focus while on the edge of my orgasm. Instead, I just smiled at Victor through my bitten lip. I let out a long breath, laced with a moan of relief as the orgasm began. Waves of pleasure radiated from between my legs. My pussy powerfully contracted, spilling drops of my wetness onto the table. Victor eased the pressure of the vibrator, letting me control how hard it was pressed to my clit. My body was now covered in a thin layer of sweat, my breasts shining under the kitchen table light.

The orgasm didn’t subside in the typical less-than-minute of pure ecstasy; instead, it rolled on and failed to ever fully taper off. “I’m gonna cum again, don’t stop!” Victor looked over at Lydia, her hand clearly rubbing between her thighs with slow, firm pressure. Her gaze was locked on the orgasming body across the table from her. Lydia was unable to look away from the sight of a fellow female whose own surroundings were outside her consciousness. The thoughts coursing through Lydia’s religious mind were tearing her apart, unable to make sense of the desire she was now rapidly being defeated by. Her own vagina was betraying her, betraying all of her life’s efforts to remain a chaste and controlled person.

The wetness that had graced her fingertips just moments ago had now been replaced by her own, yet it was even warmer and more abundant on her fingers. Her modest underwear were soaked, the wetness now threatening to saturate through to her loose cotton pants. Victor focused his attention on me since I wasn’t able to speak, lost within my own world of pleasure and desire. He responded to every nudge from my right hand, adjusting the vibrator’s position and pressure at my silent command.

The second orgasm came harder and more suddenly than the first. I let my body fall flat against the table, unable to keep my body propped up any longer. All my strength was given to my orgasm. My hand left Victor’s and squeezed my right breast as if trying to hold myself together. My moans were uncontrollably loud, knowingly audible outside for anyone walking by. I didn’t care and I couldn’t stop myself. “Oh my God. Oh my God, fuck yes!”

I let out a flurry of words after so many moments in tight silence. I sat up just far enough to put my hand behind Victor’s head and pull his mouth to my tits. He kissed and sucked them while my orgasm peaked, burying his face into me and tasting my salty skin. As he kissed and sucked on my hard nipples, he moaned with me, quietly encouraging me to not hold back, helping me to let the orgasm take me with all its power.

After a pause, as I began to relax, my arms fell limp to my sides. Laid back with my legs still open, I could do nothing but breathe and smile. And those were enough for me in that moment. I rolled slightly onto my side and looked at Victor, giving him a loving and thankful smile. As he stroked my hair, he whispered in my ear words only for me, “You’re amazing, baby. That was incredible. I love you so much.”

We took the moment to relax together, having the feeling of accomplishing something monumental together. It was always like that, but doing it as a performance was particularly satisfying. The intimacy of the moment was broken by the muffled groaning coming from the end of the table.

Lydia was in the midst of her own orgasm, one hand over her mouth to control the screams she could only barely hold inside, and her other grinding against her clit and lips through her panties. As she finally and fully came, her body stiffened into a rigid form. It was shaking against the strain of her body losing all control. Her eyes were closed tightly and she was struggling to remain aware of anything around her.

“Just let it happen; don’t hold it back.” I wanted her to give herself over to her orgasm as I had mine. More moaning came from Lydia. “Let yourself cum as hard as you want, Lydia.” Victor and I voiced encouragement to her.

She finally let herself go and let out a long scream with her hand furiously rubbing her pussy. The sound of her wetness filled the room after her scream subsided; she wasn’t holding back anymore. The air was filled with the scent of two women’s orgasms, swirling together and reminding everyone what had just happened.

With both women now sharing a space defined by the female orgasm, there wasn’t anything left to say or do. I slowly and calmly pulled my panties back on and fixed my dress. “Well, so that’s that then. Now you know.”

I just sat looking at Lydia who was clambering about to get her own clothes in order and her Bible back in front of her. She left without saying a word, but didn’t need to say anything. She had been changed, and both Victor and I were content to let this night sit in her mind and soak throughout her body.

“Think she’ll ever come over again?” Victor genuinely wondered and wanted my thoughts. “I don’t think she can resist after tonight, not at all.”

Victor responded simply by taking me into his arms, leading me off the table and upstairs to our bed. “It’s my turn now. You’ve been awfully naughty tonight. And…I love you.”

I simply responded, “Yes, baby. Take me.”

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/zoa0ni/judgmental_churchwife_f26f33m40