Being the wife of a Southern Baptist minister left me sexually frustrated. Whenever I tried to suggest we try anything other than the "missionary" position, I was chastised. I couldn't keep any kind of device in the house that might help out my unfilled sexual appetite, as my husband would search my drawers and purse all the time. He told me that the devil wanted my soul and that's why I was such a Jezebel. He told me that whenever I felt those sexual urges I should go to the alter and pray until I no longer felt the burning desires inside of me. Needless to say, I was in extreme need for sexual fulfillment.nnOur church was having its annual convention and my husband was working long, late hours. I spent time tending the house and garden. It was a particularly hot day and the sweat was rolling off my face down the front of my white blouse. My blouse was sticking to me and making me feel even hotter, so I shamelessly unbuttoned it and tossed it on the ground. nnHow naughty I felt as my breasts were freed and the wind blew across my nipples. It felt so good, I couldn't stop with that. I slipped my shorts off and danced playfully around the yard in my satin thong bikini panties. The hedge was tall enough that someone would have to be standing on their tiptoes to see me. I grabbed the hose and turned on the water sprinkler. I hopped in and out of the water, squealing like a little child. The heat of the day continued to mount and I eventually just stood in the middle of the sprinkler, allowing it to keep my body cool. I slipped my hands into my thong bikini and massaged my clitoris hard and heavy until it began throbbing.nnAt the same time, my husband was in the middle of a crisis at the convention. He had forgotten the folders he needed for the night's meeting schedule.