Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Peter and Molly

She was laying on her belly with her face turned away from him. He lay next to her listening to her breathing.

She was snuffling into the pillow

“Are you awake?” he said. “Are you all right, Sarah?”

“You hate me.” She whispered.

“No, I don’t." He fumbled for something to say. "You’re my good wife. My fresh new bride.”

“I’m a bad wife. I’m not what you wanted.”

He sat up straight, feeling angry at having to prepare himself first thing in the morning to tell her more lies. “You don’t know that.” Watching her broad back, her shaking shoulders, more than anything he felt baffled and small. He didn’t want this, any of this. His hand touched her shoulder and she squirmed away from him.

“Last night.” She whispered into the pillow. “You were treating me like an animal. You wanted me to do dirty things.”

She rolled over, sat up, facing him, smoothing out her heavy night gown. He still had no idea what she looked like underneath. She’d been crying for a while, even while he’d slept. Her fish belly white face was puffy and red eyed.

“Maybe I was too amorous, too filled with love for you.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Sarah - it’s what husbands do with their wives.”

“As soon as we were alone, you began acting all – all nasty! You had your thing out! Your thing! Your weenie thing! Sticking your hands all over under my clothes, where they don’t belong. Showing your big red weenie to me. That was disgusting!”

“Sarah.” He waved his hands in despair. “The Bible says the marriage bed is undefiled. What do you think that means? You’re still a virgin. Don’t you know what a virgin is?”

“It means husband and wives sleep together celebrating their pure love for Jesus.”

“But what about babies?”

“Of course we’ll have babies.”

“But how do you think you’re going to have a baby if you won’t let me do it?”

“Do what?”

“Put…” he could hardly describe it for shame. “”Put my… you know. In you.”

“What? What are you saying, Adam?”

“Listen, Sarah. Tonight, Elder Mid Wife Goody Harris is coming here. She wants to see if we consummated our marriage. That’s what it means. It’s not a marriage unless I put my thing in you. That’s what she’s going to check you for. It’s not a legal marriage unless you let me put my thing in you. They’ll send you away. Don’t you know that?”

He looked at her face and realized with shock, she really didn’t. “Sarah, beautiful darling, where do you think babies come from?”

“From their home in heaven with Jesus.”

“Yes, but how do they get inside your belly? Did anybody explain it to you?”

“My mother told me, she said the Holy Spirit will come to me, just like it did to the Mother of Our Lord. And then the Holy Spirit will get me with child.”

Adam looked in her eyes and she stared back defiantly. “Nobody’s ever told you how to make a baby.”

“You hate me! You think I’m stupid.” She wailed and hid her face in a handful of the blankets.

“I don’t,” he said. “I just didn’t know you didn’t know.” He took the blanket away from her face. “I’m going to have to explain something to you. Listen.”

She looked at him suspiciously and crossed her arms over her breasts. “Don’t you touch me with your weenie.”

“Listen. The man has the seed. The woman has the womb, like the field.” He made a hollow fist with his left hand. He inserted his right thumb into his hollow fist and thrust it in and out. “You see how it works? The man plants the seed. That’s how it’s done.”

She turned red and looked away. “Lord Jesus, protect me from sin. Lord Jesus protect me from sin.”

“So how do you think the seed gets inside the woman’s belly?”

“The Lord puts it there.”

“No!” he caught himself just in time. Patience. Patience was the thing. “A man loves a woman. He feels so close to her and loves her so much he wants to be even closer. As close as he can possibly be. Like me, I want to feel close to you and to love you. When the man feels very close to the woman and he’s bursting to be even more close to her - he does this.” He got off the bed and stood in front of her. Watching her face carefully, he removed his pajama top and dropped it on the floor. He untied the drawstring of his pajama pants. He drew his pants down exposing himself to her. She turned away at the sight. He held out his hand to her and she looked at his flaccid penis, her lip trembling.

Look at her face, he thought, look what we’ve all done to her. It’s so hard for her. She wants to do right, to please me or to please Jesus or please somebody. She wants that so bad. She turned her head a little and was cautiously looking down at him.

Feeling the cool air, and her eyes staring at his penis, he felt it begin to stir. He looked down. It really is an ugly thing, he thought, the first time you see it. A big bag of skin. That strange long thing hanging down, sometimes sticking up by itself, all on the outside as if God had put it there at the very end of His act of creation as a joke. “Have you ever seen a naked man before?”

She shook her head. But her eyes were wide now, staring hostilely at his cock. "Put your weenie away."

“It’s a penis. Say penis.”

“peh . . peh . . . ”


“Peh. . . no.”

“My penis is how I plant the seed in your field. You have a different thing, and my penis fits inside it.” He made the fist and the thumb for her. "Why do you think it fits inside?" Thrust, thrust, thrust.

"Stop doing that!”

“Doesn’t it make sense? Touch it. Just touch it.” He stepped close, almost putting it in her face. For the longest time, she sat huddled in misery. Finally, hesitantly, swallowing, she reached out and ran her finger tips along it. He felt a rushing tingle and began to stiffen.

She jumped back as if she’d been burned. “What’s it doing? Do you make it do that?”

He took her hand and gently wrapped her fingers around his cock. “No, you made it do that. It likes you. It belongs to you.” He said, suddenly feeling very strange at the thought. “This is your pet penis. Give him a name.”

“I don’t know. Peter?”

“Peter the penis.”

She smiled a little for the first time. “What do you want to call me? What I have?”

“Molly! You have a vagina. Your vagina is Molly. Peter and Molly.” He swallowed hard. “Sarah. Please. I want to see you.”

She didn’t move. The smile vanished. She let go of Peter. He wanted to speak, to protest, shout, order, demand. He waited, standing in the middle of the room, nude with poor Peter standing at half mast like a curious animal. Her eyes moved to look at him and he waited.

To his amazement, she got off the bed. With her back turned away from him, she slipped the night gown off over her head and dropped it on the floor. Her body was bare from the waist up. Soft and pliant, full in the thighs and ass. She drew down her panties, and kicked them away. She stood looking at the bed, her arms hanging straight at her sides. Her fists clenched. Cautiously, he came up behind her, and caressed her back softly with his fingertips. He massaged her shoulders and she allowed him. Gently he slipped his hands down, down under her arms which she lifted for him and he reached around. He took her soft baby bird breasts in his warm palms and lifted them, feeling the nipples rise. She was shivering. “You’re tempting me.”

“Tempting you to what?” he said, softly.

She raised her arms a little more, elbows hovering, and leaned back against him. He held her gently from behind, his hard shaft pressing the small of her back, now running his hands over her, lifting and dropping her breasts, pinching her nipples. Slowly, he inched his right hand down her belly, then below and twined his fingertips in her wiry nether hair.

“Lay down on the bed.” He croaked. "Do it now."

At first, nothing. And then, trembling, she moved away from him and turned around. Facing him. Naked. Her eyes looked frankly into his, one foot shyly crossed over the other and she gave him time. Time to run his eyes over her, appraise her, judge her, approve of her, love her, imagine the future with her. Her fecund belly, her bell shaped breasts, wide wall eyed nipples that looked shyly down, her thick topped thighs. Her eyes, waiting.

Turning her back to him, she lifted a knee, mounted the bed, then the other leg, rolled, and lay down in front of him on her back, her eyes never leaving his face. He got on the bed, placed himself, kneeled between her knees and touched her sex beneath.

“This is what we’re going to do.” He said.

“Don’t hurt me.” She whispered.

“Peter belongs in there.” He said. “Can you feel it? That feeling like Molly wants something inside her?”

She nodded.

“Let me do something for you first. Trust me.”

He inched back on the bed, dipped his head down and touched his lips to her sex hair, kissing her inner thigh. Her body tensed and began to move away from him, until he put his hands on her hips and held her in place. He peeked at Molly. There above her wet cleft, a swelling ridge. A smooth little pink nub. A miracle.

They didn’t cut her. I have four wives, and I’ve never seen a clitoris before now. She still has a clitoris. Thank you Jesus, thank you.

He felt her electric tension, a baffled mix of gathering lust and fear. His other wives would never let him go as far as she had already. What he was doing, even now, would have had them screaming in rage and threatening to turn him over to the Chastity Police. They had been damaged in every way. She had not. They had had their clitorises cut away, almost at birth. The memory had been burned into their very nerves. Unlike this one here, they understood sex and despised it with holy hate. They resented him for his hound dog desires, the marital duty of having to tolerate his climbing on top of them, grunting over them in the dark and finally splashing their wombs with his foul spunk in order to have children. This sheltered girl was still intact in every way. She had possibilities. She knew nothing of sex. Maybe she could learn to want it, maybe – impossible! – but maybe even seek him out for it, to come to his bed willingly, nude, wet inside and eager for him. This girl alone of his wives could learn to love him without fear. The other wives would expose her if they knew her secret. Maybe even have her cut, out of sheer malicious spite.

He put his tongue to the tiny nub, tasted it and played with it. She tensed and lifted her knees, he pressed them down to hold her tight over the edge of whatever was happening inside her.

“Adam. . . I didn't wash . . . “

He licked her nub and she jumped, but stayed as she was, as he ran the flat of his tongue along the swelling shaft above her cleft, himself feeling terrified of what he was doing, and the terror fascinated him, kept him moving compulsively to the next illicit moment and the next, unable to let go of the seaweed taste, the slick feel, the sheer danger. He played her with his tongue, feeling the tiny noodle tip of her clit and kissing it with the curled tip of his wet tongue. She rolled her hips undulating against his face. Her breathing became ragged and then urgent. “Stop! No! Adam - stop!” She went limp. He continued.

With a sudden strangling sound she thrashed her hips once, banging hard into his nose. She sprang half off the bed, shoving him off her lap wheezing,laughing wildly. The bed squealed as she collapsed back, curled up on her side into a ball, put her hands between her legs and held herself there. Her lips were tightly puckered in surprise.

"Are you all right?"

She stared blankly and nodded her chin. "... Yuh ... huh-huh...”

"But are you all right? I didn't hurt you?"

Her thighs squeezed hard against her hands and her belly shivered. She groaned and bit the pillowcase hard, gasping. After a moment she said “Did you know that would happen?"

"Are you happy?"

She shook her head. "My body feels silly."

"Is it good?"

"I don’t know."

"I think it’s the way I feel when I give my seed to a wife."

She looked troubled, still holding her hands between her legs. She was looking up at the ceiling fan and thinking. "Isn’t there a Holy Spirit? My mother said there's a Holy Spirit and the man just watches. She wouldn’t just say that. Or lie to me."

This poor girl, he thought. This poor, excellent girl.

She looked at him, slack faced and confused.

He gently removed her hands from between her legs. He patted her thighs apart. She folded her arms across her chest and he could see her pale pasty skin was flushed a glowing pink from neck to belly and her face was almost red. She squeezed her arms so that her nipples seemed to pop out and the sight made him feel carnal and huge.

"I feel so much." she said. "I feel everything."

He eased himself down between her legs, belly to belly, his cock nested in her wet thatch of wiry hair. "It's that time.” he said. He kissed her lips. With his hand he stroked her soft hair and she looked lost. “All right? Its time for Molly to meet Peter now.” He nudged the tip of his cock against her.

She came to herself and looked down. “What are you doing?”

“Shh. Hold still.” Reaching down with his hand, he rubbed his cock against her wet cleft, feeling for the spot.

“Oh no. . . oh no.. . . stop. Adam. Don’t hurt Molly. Be careful.”

Her last words – be careful – were her assent to him, her surrender. He proceeded to press into the spot, felt her interior resistance. His body wanted to thrust in ruthlessly, he held himself back.

He gentled his way in, whispering love words in her ear, chanting, stroking her neck and her breasts in a methodical way that he seemed instinctively to know how to do without knowing how he knew. She became deeply relaxed, limp, breathing quietly. Her eyes closed.

He caressed her and continued, rocking gently, setting up an easy rhythm. She opened her eyes. “This feels all wrong. Are you sure this is what we do . . . .”

“Molly.” Swinging his hips forward, he pushed through with a hard thrust.

She ground her teeth hard.

“Almost over.” He whispered. “Relax. Relax your legs. Almost done.” She was panicking. “It’s okay. Just let me do this.” Her eyes were welling with tears. She was trying to wriggle out from under him as he felt his orgasm gathering. Her struggles excited him and he battered her groin harder, faster, dropping his weight down on her. “Molly!”

She got her hands under him and heaved him off. He tumbled down off the bed to the floor. His stiff cock, glistening and blood speckled, waved in the air alien, and unsatisfied. “Why did you do that?” He shouted.

“It hurts!” She was crying again. “You lied to me!"

He hadn’t come. Seeing her this way, enough was enough. “Your mother lied! Everybody lied to you all your dammed life! I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was making love to you. Love!”

“You can’t put it there! It doesn’t go there.”

“I’m sorry!” he waved his arms. “I’ve had it with you. I need to leave for work.” He went into the bathroom and washed himself at the sink.

When he came out to look for his suit, she was sitting at the edge of the bed, naked, with the blanket over her knees, looking down. He came up to her hesitantly. There were no more plans. "Well, Sarah." He stood over her, putting on a jolly voice for her. "You’re a woman now. You’re a real wife."

“Do you know," she said, looking at the floor, "I have to give all my life to you. But you only give a fourth of your life to me. That’s all I've got.” She looked up at him sadly. "I wanted a honeymoon."

"Maybe someday." He didn’t know what else to say. He found his clothes and quickly dressed. As he tied his shoes she was still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

She looked up at him as he went to the door. "Husband?"

He turned. The sight of her made him hate himself.

"I feel dirty." She said, “Love should be about higher things. Not like animals."


"What you did? That was a sin. That was a big sin. What I did, that was a big sin too. I know because I can feel the Devil inside me now. Tempting my flesh, making me want it more. You’re not supposed to want things like that, dirty things. I'm going to fast and pray for forgiveness, and I'm going to confess to Sister Goody Harris when she comes here tonight."

A wave of mortal panic washed over him. "No!"

She looked at him with hostility. "Why not?"

"Why? Why? Because they'll kill us, that's why."

Her face fell apart. She grabbed the blanket and threw it over her nakedness and began rocking back and forth. "Oh no. . . I knew it. . Oh my Lord Jesus. . ."

"Its sodomy, Sarah, that’s what we did. Got that? If you tell Goody I was licking and kissing Miss Molly, they can stone us to death for that."

She stuffed the blanket in her mouth and cried. "What did you do to me? I didn’t want you to do anything to me. Adam, what did you do? What will we do now?"

"Do? We won’t do anything, all right? You shut your mouth, that’s what you do. We consummated the marriage. That's all Goody wants to know."

"No more." she said softly. "You made me sin. I didn’t want it; it's your fault. Adam? After we have our baby, we have to stop. No more Molly. No more Peter. Don’t touch me anymore after that. No."

He stood in the doorway hating her. Hating everything about his life.

"Do you love me now?" She said.

"Molly." he sighed. "I don’t even know who you are."

He closed the door behind him as he left.

"Sarah." She wiped her nose with her fist. Rising up from the bed, tightening her jaw, standing, defiantly nude, attuned to the ringing silence of the room.

"My name is Sarah."

C. Sanchez-Garcia


  1. Hello, Garce,

    I've read this before - but it never fails to have an impact.

    You've proved that dystopias do not have to be set in the future.

  2. Hi Lisabet!

    YEah, I hate recycling things but no one else read it because its long so it probably doesn;t matter either way. But it fits the material and its a story I've always liked that has never seen daylight anywhere else. Its one of those bright lost children that pile up over time.

    I haven;t been writing much lately, I'm still in kind of a funk. I don;t know what it is these days, maybe I'm going through what you;ve been going through.



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