It was already two-thirty, and twelve-year-old Angela was restless. But Mary Carruthers, Angela's buxom, pink skinned, 36-year-old mother, had ordered her to stay in the house until after Father Edmund paid his social visit. After that, Angela was at liberty to go out and play with Betsy, who lived in the corner bungalow on the other side of the street. Worst of all, to Angela, instead of letting her wear her vacation outfit of Bermuda shorts, bobbysocks, loafers and short-sleeved white blouse, her mother had insisted that she honor Father Edmund's visit by presenting herself the way a well-bred young lady should be - and that meant a dress and slip and her nicest undies.
Angela had looked wonderingly at her mother over the luncheon table when her mother had made that remark about pretty undies, and her blonde mother had frowned and snapped, "Now you just do what I tell you to, young lady, because even at twelve you're not too big to spank, and don't you forget it for a minute!"
Angela had turned fiery red at this humiliating comment. It recalled for her some distressing moments when she had been, in her own opinion, a very little girl of nine or ten, which was the last time her mother had actually carried out that mortifying threat. She fancied herself grown up now. After all, she was old enough to have what her mother called "the curse", and that, too, was terribly embarrassing. And also - though her mother didn't suspect it - lovely Angela's awareness of that secret and shameful part of her enticing young body, thanks to the inevitable monthly period, had led her to experiment with herself ... especially at night when she was troubled with strange but exciting tickling sensations, to relieve which she had discovered that the persistent rubbing of her own soft little forefinger brought about even more thrilling feelings. These, she vaguely realized, were associated with boys. Of course, her mother had strictly forbidden her to accept any dates even to a movie or even to let a boy carry her books home from school.
Betsy, however, was a year older and had actually been out with boys. But then, Betsy's situation was a lot different from hers because her girl friend's parents had separated and then remarried, leaving Betsy under the very lax supervision of an elderly aunt.
As she waited in her bedroom for Father Edmund to come so that she could pay her respects and then hurry across the street, Angela sighed wistfully, put a hand to her dimpled chin and wished she were at least as old as her best friend and knew as much about ... important things ... as Betsy seemed to know.
In her pretty blue cotton dress with its modestly cut skirt down to her knees and front decorously rising to her slim throat, Angela indeed seemed older than her twelve years. She was five feet four inches in height, with charmingly saucy features. Her face was oval, her cheeks high-set, her nose a dainty snub with sensuously thin, dilating wings, and her small but very ripe mouth was sensual and petulant, the lower lip fuller than its very kissable twin. Her large, widely spaced gray-green eyes and her warm olive skin enhanced her mouthwatering loveliness, but the dress, modest though it was, emphasized the ripening tastiness of her virginal charms. Though Angela had put on a white nylon bra and panty set to please her mother's mystifying order, the bra did not entirely check the jut of two firm, widely spaced pear-shaped titties. She had put on charcoal-brown nylons, rolled at mid-thigh over elastic garters and the gauzy sheaths revealed trim ankles, sleek, sinuous high-set calves, while the skirt hinted at long shapely thighs and a jouncy oval-shaped behind.
Her hair was glossy black and set with a fringe of tiny little curls all along the top of her high forehead. The rest was combed straight back and flowed down just past her shoulder blades. Impatient with waiting, Angela abruptly rose from her chair, went over to the little boudoir table, took up a comb and began to comb out her hair in back. Just then, the doorbell rang. Angela's eyes widened, she dropped the comb, and a faint blush suffused her cheeks. It was Father Edmund at last, thank goodness! Soon she could go over to Betsy's and have fun. Maybe Betsy would tell her more about the dates she'd had. Angela had begged her friend to tell her what it was like to be kissed and felt by a boy, but Betsy had only giggled and hinted, mysteriously, "Maybe I will - some day when you're ready to find out for yourself, Angie!"
With a last appraising glance at herself in the mirror, Angela opened her bedroom door and went out to the living room to appear in her dutiful role of respectful young Catholic daughter. Her mother was already opening the front door, and Angela gasped with surprise. Her mother was wearing a black satin dress cut almost to the middle of her back and, in front, low enough to show off the upper curves of two succulent, firm, round closely spaced titties.
It was Betsy who had taught Angela the only really naughty word she knew: titties. Just a few weeks ago, poking her forefinger at Angela's budding young bosom, Betsy had cattily remarked, "Gosh, Angie honey, you're sure getting a perky pair of titties. Boy, will the guys ever go for you when they get you out on a date!"
Not only that, her mother was wearing fresh lipstick and she smelled of perfume.
My goodness, all that fuss just to say hello to Father Edmund! Angela thought to herself.
And then she blushed again, for Father Edmund had said something to her mother in a low voice and was coming towards her with a smile, holding out his hand.
"Why, it's little Angela! My gracious, what a lovely young woman you are turning out to be, my child!"
Somewhat awkwardly, Angela extended her soft little hand, flushing and modestly lowering her eyes as she did so. Her mother hovered protectively near and purred, "What a lovely compliment, Angela! Let me hear you thank Father Edmund properly, young lady!"
The black haired teenager shivered. If the truth be known, she had met Father Edmund several times before, not only in the confessional but also standing outside the chapel after Sunday school. Even in the privacy of the confessional box, she had always recognized his strong, authoritative, manly voice. And at times at night, since she had passed out of puberty and was awakening, had had strange and very naughty dreams in which he figured. One of them she remembered even now as his sinewy strong fingers seemed to keep hold of her hand more than was necessary for a mere call on a parishioner.
She had dreamed she was walking in the woods on a hot summer day, wearing only a lace trimmed white slip which she had sneaked out of her mother's dresser drawer - that of course had to be a dream, for lovely Angela had been brought up never to steal or tell a lie - and someone had called to her out of a clump of bushes. When she had turned, Father Edmund in his black priest's robe had come out and taken her by the hand and led her back into the bushes and then scolded her for going outdoors so scantily dressed and said that what she needed was a good, sound spanking ... and in the dream, she had been bent forward over one knee and her firm saucy behind slapped a dozen times. At that point, the dream was broken off, and Angela had awaked to find her nightie suspiciously wet between her still trembling, supple young thighs ...
"T-thank y-you, F-Father," she quavered now, and glanced up at him. He smiled and his dark-brown eyes seemed to be glowing.
Finally he released her hand.
"Ah, you'll be a beautiful young woman before much longer, my dear," he said. Then, turning to her mother, "Mrs. Carruthers, are you free now to discuss that church social we talked about earlier this week?"
"Oh, yes, Father! Angela, if you like, why don't you go play with your friend Betsy?"
Her mother used an affectionate tone of voice which, of late, Angela had seldom heard.
"All - all right, Mother, if you're sure it's all right?" she said. "But oughtn't I to change?"
Mary Carruthers impatiently shook her head.
"No, of course not! You're fine the way you are. Have a good time, and you needn't be back till suppertime."
"If - if you say so, Mother. Well, then - it - it was nice to meet you again, Father Edmund."
Angela made him a little curtsey, and was rewarded by his soft pleased chuckle, and a soft familiar chuck under the chin.
"Likewise, Angela. I'll see you at Sunday school, shan't I?"
"Y - yes, Father. Well - goodbye now." She was blushing from his attentions, though the gesture of his finger was one bestowed on a little girl rather than a grownup young lady. "I'll just get something from my room I want to show to Betsy, Mother."
"All right, dear. Come along, Father."
Angela's mother took Father Edmund by the arm and led him down the hallway. Angela's eyes widened. Though she knew both her parents to be faithful churchgoers, she couldn't understand her mother's having dressed and made up to receive the priest and still less her commandeering him this aggressive way. With a shrug of mystification, she went back to her room to get the movie magazine which had an article about Richard Burton which Betsy had said she wanted to read.
Down the hall, she heard her mother's door close and then a noise which sounded like a key turning in the lock. That was very strange. Holding her breath, Angela tiptoed to her closet and heard the murmur of voices. On the wall at her left, a large chunk of plaster had become dislodged; Angela had pushed it back into place. But now her curiosity led her to glance at it and remember that by drawing it out, she could peer directly into her mother's bedroom.
But that would be a sinful thing to do, Angela knew. She shook her head as if telling herself it was unthinkable. The murmur of voices was continuing. And then suddenly, she heard what sounded suspiciously like a slap, then another, and still another, followed by a giggle, and then a little flurried cry.
"My gracious, whatever can be going on?" Angela murmured to herself, moving closer to the wall to try to make out what was being said and done.
Again the sound of slaps came to her and loud gasps, then Father Edmund's voice. Mother had said they were going to talk about a church social. But it certainly sounded strange, if that was what it was.
Once again, there was the sound of slaps and a soft groan. Angela could stand it no longer. Very carefully, she put her fingernails to the jagged chunk of plaster and slowly lifted it out. Still clutching it in her left hand she bent slightly to stare into the improvised peephole.
Her mouth gaped and her eyes widened in disbelief. For there was her mother, wearing only a black nylon slip, gauzy black nylon hose and pumps, crouching on all fours with her head bowed towards the head of the bed. And the slip had been furled back up beyond her mother's waist, displaying the carnation-sheened spacious round cheeks of her mother's naked behind ... on which quite a few bright red splotches were imprinted.
Father Edmund knelt behind Angela's mother engaged in trussing up his black cossack, then fumbling with himself in front. Then, his right hand stroking the squirming, upreared, outthrust bare posterior, he muttered hoarsely, "Spread your legs more than that, my daughter, so the good work can be done. Is your big bottom warm enough now to receive the holy oil?"
And from Angela's mother, in a muffled, quavery voice, "Ohh, yes, yes, dear Father, it's awfully nice and warm, do give it to me now."
"I shall, my daughter. Steady yourself," was the priest's answer.
Angela, her eyes wide as saucers, had unconsciously slid her right hand under her blue cotton skirt and the little white petticoat beneath. Her forefinger had begun to rub against the exquisite plump mound at the crotch of her thin panties. The soft virginal lips of her vulva twitched and quivered and as she watched her mother obediently spread her knees still farther apart until the groove between the plump, succulent bottom-globes was lasciviously distended. Angela, in her turn, straddled her long legs to make her own sensitive and now moistening young quim even more accessible.
She hardly dared to breathe as Father Edmund, completing his palpation of her mother's indecently naked behind - during all of which time Mary Carruthers wriggled and weaved her buttocks in the most indecent manner imaginable - now commanded in a husky voice, "My daughter, to show total obedience, I wish you to prepare yourself for what you are about to receive!"
"Ohh, y-yes, Father!" Mary Carruthers gasped.
Without leaving her kneeling pose and burying her congested face in the pillow, she reached back, grasped hold of the inner edges of both buttocks and drew them as far apart as she could uttering a sobbing little "Ahh !" as she did so.
Angela's eyes were fixed on the puckering crinkly rosette of her mother's anus, and her right forefinger began to rub at a faster cadence now as she felt warm waves of sensual excitement, even stronger than any she had ever known in the privacy of her own virgin bed alone at night, now seethe through her.
"Very good, my daughter. And now, prepare yourself to submit in an act of faith," Father directed as he moved behind her ... but not till Angela had seen for the first time in her rapidly maturing twelve years the stiff, angrily reddened head of his savagely rampant penis and the dark blue veins standing out against the taut skin of the incredibly thick and long shaft.
She had to clench her lips to keep from squealing out her shocked incredulity lest she betray to them that she was an unbidden witness of this incredible act.
Father Edmund's position blocked Angela's view so that she could not see the actual entry of his formidable penis. But she was immediately edified by hearing her mother call out in a sobbing groan, "Ohhh, ahhh. Father, please take it easy. My little bumhole's too small for your big cock! Ohh, please be gentle there!"
"Courage, my daughter, bigger things have come out than are going in," Angela heard him chuckle, and then there came a grunt as she saw him push forward.
His right hand seemed to press down on her mother's bare right hip, but his left was concealed from Angela's view. Once again, it was her mother who furnished her aghast virgin daughter with the detailed explanation of what was taking place. To be sure, Angela till this moment had never before heard some of the terms her mother employed in that explanation.
"Ahh - ohhh, Father, that's so good when you rub my button too - ahh, ohh, it stretches my little bumhole so - ahh, not too hard till it's all inside, please, F-Father dear!"
"Careful, my daughter, or I shall have to chastise your naughty posterior for showing such wantonness. This is penance I am exacting from you and the thought of your enjoyment is farthest from my mind ... now then, get ready, I'm going to put it all into you so that you can feel the full dose of holy oil directly!"
Angela's finger feverishly worked this way and that against the moist crotch of her little panties. Her young breasts rose and fell erratically and she had to make a conscious effort to hold onto the chunk of dislodged plaster in her left hand lest she drop it and warn the two preoccupied adults in the room beyond that she was committing a mortal sin by spying on them. But the torturing waves of tickling hot, girlish ardor threatened to destroy her own self-control, and it was fortunate for her that her mother now arched and writhed, having felt the full brunt of Father Edmund's penis to the very hilt, and uttered a loud sobbing wail.
"Ahhhhhhhrr, oh Father, you're tearing me to pieces there, oh do let me a minute - oooooooh, my finger feels so good there, do it faster, make me come!"
"Not till you have had your full penance, my sinful daughter," the priest thickly responded. "Bow when I draw back. Do you thrust your impudent bottom back to me - ahh, that's right, continue thus - soon you shall have your absolution!"
Angela whimpered as she saw her mother's widely straddled feet scuff the rumpled bed till both pumps slid off and her stockinged toes curled and twisted and wriggled this way and that. Her eyes unwaveringly fixed on the scene. She saw Father Edmund's hips execute a forward-backward maneuver, and at once heard her mother's raucous "Ahh, ohh, it's so good. Oh, yes, punish me, Father, punish me good!"
"Yes, yes, my daughter!" His voice was excited. "Get ready, it will be very soon - perhaps even sooner than - yes, ahh - now, you wicked sinful bitch, buck your gorgeous big red behind as much as you can. Here it comes, Mary girl - ahhhhhh!"
With a bellow, he crammed violently forward and Mary Carruthers, swaying on her buckling knees, nonetheless managed to hold her ground as she thrust herself sacrificially back to his rutting charge. Then Angela heard her mother's high-pitched, prolonged scream of ecstasy.
"Eeeeeeyahhrr - ouu - I can feel yon gush into me there, Father - ahhhh, your finger, oh work it good now, I need it so - ahh yes, yes I'm coming too - oh now, now, Father, fuck my button hard as you can - yes - aiiiionuuahhhh!"
And as this last prolonged wail died away, Mary Carruthers seemed to collapse flat on the bed, sprawled face down, the priest moving forward to top her and cover her, his hips working convulsively. At almost the same moment, Angela was shaken by the most volcanic spasm her virgin core had ever known, and she had to lean her forehead against the wall and close her eyes and grind her teeth to keep from crying out her own frantic release...
After a long moment, the teenaged brunette at last steadied herself, smoothed her rumpled skirt and petticoat back into place, then turned to the table where she kept her schoolbooks, retrieved the movie magazine, and tiptoed to her door and cautiously opened it. With a frightened gasp, remembering that she hadn't replaced the chunk of plaster, she ran back to the closet and fitted it back into place, her heart pounding wildly, her face flushed and her eyes humid from what she had seen - and done. The latter was a sin she would have to confess this weekend, she knew.
Oh my goodness, she thought to herself, I don't dare tell the priest who hears my confession what made me do it, though, oh dear!
Once again she opened her door and listened. There wasn't a sound. Hastily, then, she hurried to the front door and let herself out, her mind reeling with the secret revelation that had not been meant for her to witness. She couldn't even dare tell Betsy about it, she knew!
Chapter 2
Angela glanced nervously back at her house as she crossed the street towards the corner bungalow where Betsy lived, as if expecting at any moment to hear her mother angrily call her back to punish her for spying on them. The enormity of what Angela had seen, much of which she did not fully understand, was just now beginning to permeate her unsophisticated young mind. Already she was wrestling with the dilemma of whether to seek the advice of her best friend or to try to forget what she had witnessed. And if she did tell Betsy, it would be sure to find its way from her gregarious and much more knowledgeable friend to others, which would mean shameful disgrace for both her mother and the priest.
Angela had just about made up her mind to try to get an answer from Betsy without revealing the identity of the two persons whom she had seen performing an inexplicable but surely forbidden act - because, after all, Mother was married, and that meant only Daddy had the right to touch and expose her person and kiss her and do ... other things ... to her - when Angela suddenly remembered that Betsy's Aunt Hazel had gone to visit an ailing and very close friend in a nursing home in Evanston and would spend Sunday with her too. That meant Betsy would be all alone, so she wouldn't have to ring the bell. She could go around to the back and let herself in the kitchen, where Betsy spent a lot of time drinking Cokes and doing her homework on the linoleum-covered table.
Maybe if Daddy were home tonight and Mother went out, she could fish around to find out why two grown-up people would go into a bedroom and the man would spank the woman's bare bottom and then push himself up against her in that funny way Father Edmund had done to Mother. It reminded Angela, suddenly and scandalously - and her cheeks flamed at the recollection - of the time, over a year ago, when she had seen two dogs fixed together on a vacant lot and some coarse man had shouted, "Look at that dog giving it to his bitch. I wish I could give it to my broad that way!" and some people had gasped and others had laughed.
Angela took a deep breath, shook her head till her curls danced on her shoulders, then tried the knob of the kitchen door. It was open - Betsy never locked it, except at night - and she went in. She was about to call out for her chum when she suddenly heard a giggle which she recognized as Betsy's. It was coming from her friend's bedroom, which was nearer the back of the bungalow than Aunt Hazel's. Once again she opened her mouth to call out and announce her presence, when there was another giggle, followed by a hoarse male chuckle.
Angela stopped dead in her tracks, her gray-green eyes widening with surprise. Maybe it was one of Betsy's boyfriends - her chum was forever boasting about how many fellows were always asking her for dates!
The bedroom door was slightly open, she could see it from where she stood just inside the butler's pantry. Then she heard Betsy gasp out, "Oooh, that's awful nice, do it some more!"
Wonderingly, Angela tiptoed down the carpeted hall and, holding her breath, placed herself to the left of the slightly open door, since she couldn't see from the way she was coming along the hall. And then she clapped a hand over her mouth and swayed with disbelief. It was even more shocking than what she had witnessed from her closet!
Betsy lay on her left side so that she was facing in Angela's direction. Her coppery-red hair, cut helmet style, was tumbled and covered one eye. About an inch and a half shorter than Angela, Betsy's figure was considerably riper. She had two high-percher, insolently round breasts with wide brownish-coral aurolae which centered pert, well-developed nipples, plump round hips and buttocks, and ripening, almost womanly thighs, with a flawlessly smooth, satiny pale-creamy skin with rosy flecks. Her complexion was that of a true redhead. Her face was heart-shaped, her mouth was large and sensually full. Betsy's nose was Grecian with widely flaring wings, her eyes were dark-brown and seemed larger because of very short but thick lashes and thin pencilled brows.
Betsy was wearing her harlequin glasses and a tight red wool sweater which came down only to her waist - and not a stitch more. Her big firm breasts were shaped out by the sweater as if it were a second skin, and they swelled exuberantly as she giggled again and squirmed closer to the stark naked man whom Angela observed wore dark blue cotton socks and looked more naked that way than if he had had absolutely nothing on.
Betsy's left hand was between their bodies as he lay on his left side facing her, and it was slowly fondling a big red, dark-veined thing between his lean hairy legs.
One of his big hands was squeezing one of Betsy's breasts through the sweater, and the other hand was stroking Betsy between her bare legs.
As Angela leaned forward to watch, feeling that agonizingly sweet tickling between her long legs, just as she had done back in the closet, his forefinger moved up to the very thickly haired plump mound between Betsy's legs and began to tickle her.
Their mouths were fused together. Angela could hear slushing sounds. Squinting with all her might, she made out that Betsy's cheek was bulging, and so was the man's. He had closely cut dark-brown hair, almost a crew cut.
Angela's hand pressed hard against her panting, gaping mouth. It wasn't a boy from school with Betsy, it was an honest-to-goodness full-grown man. She couldn't see his face, since his back was turned to her. He had lean buttocks and they were tightening with funny little spasms, and the muscles in his thighs were jerking too.
"Mmm, oh my, Freddie honey, that's just lovely. Here, wait, lemme get your big cockie ready for my itchy little quimmy !" she heard Betsy giggle. "Roll over on your back. That's a good boy!"
With this, she squirmed to her knees, and the man obligingly turned over onto his back, spreading his legs. In the moment before the half-nude redhaired older girl bowed her head down to him, putting her soft hands on his hairy thighs, Angela nearly fainted.
For it was her own father lying there on Betsy's bed and pillowing his head on his folded arms, and that big hard red thing with a tip that looked like a spear point sticking right up there in the air and everything.
"Mmm, isn't he a great big naughty boy!" she heard Betsy squeal delightedly, saw her chum's soft fingers ticklingly glide over her father's knees and thighs till finally they were moving very slowly and tantalizingly over the gnarled, hairy, bulging sacks at the base of that terribly thick, swollen upright shaft. "Want me to lick him a little first before I suck him, Fred lover?"
"Go right ahead, baby!" Angela's father panted, exhaling a sigh of anticipation and spreading his legs even farther apart than ever.
Betsy obligingly vent way down, supporting herself by gripping the sides of Angela's father's hips, and Angela had to press her hand furiously tight over her mouth to suppress the shocked cry of disbelief when she saw what her best girlfriend was doing. Besides, the way Betsy was kneeling and crouching way down low, her bottom tilted up and there was something indecently shameful about the jutting, glossy ivory cheeks, widened so that Angela couldn't help seeing the amber-shadowy crease between the cheeks as well as the dainty crinkly rosette of Betsy's bottomhole and the tufts of dark-red hair - extremely thick for a girl Betsy's age - which framed the fleshy pink lips of her best friend's pee-place.
She saw Betsy's pert pink tongue stick out as far as it could and begin to rasp slyly over her father's testicles. His face was as red as the throbbing shaft rising up ferociously between his straddled hairy thighs, and he gasped and groaned as Betsy performed her artful ministrations.
"Ahhh - you sweet little redhaired bitch, you're talented enough to be the star of a hundred-dollar cathouse !"
"Why, Fred honey - lover," the teenager cooed, glancing provocatively up at him, "what a ducky compliment! Mmm, come to think of it, I wouldn't mind - boy, could I ever earn more dough than the skimpy allowance old Aunt Hazel dishes out to me every week!"
"Just work, don't talk, baby. I'll see that you get more than she gives you," Angela's father hoarsely chuckled with another sigh of pleasure as he closed his eyes again and reclined like a sultan in his harem awaiting the Frenching by his beautiful young red-haired Caucasian slave girl.
Angela's face was scarlet and her eyes were misty, but she was hypnotized where she stood, edging herself more to the left so that while hiding as much of herself as she could to prevent being detected, she could get a better angle of vision for this absolutely unbelievable scene.
Questions poured through her shocked mind - how was it Daddy wasn't at his advertising agency? How was it he knew Betsy, let alone well enough for the shameless creature to do such indecent, forbidden things to him? It was so mystifying that Angela was in a frantic quandry, her virgin mind already tittillated at what she had observed between her mother and Father Edmund. To whom could she turn for help and advice? How could she ever dare to be on such innocently friendly terms with Betsy after a thing like this? Oh, it was just - just awful!
Her girlfriend nodded, giggled, then bowed her head way down again and resumed her tongue-adoration of Angela's daddy's big hairy balls ... that was the only word innocent black-haired Angela could find to describe those twitching, crinkly-skinned, tight-stretched and contracting spheres at the very base of that huge red thing. She supposed that was his peepee stick. She had never before seen a male organ in full carnal erection ... for, after all, Father Edmund's priapic might had been virtually hidden from her when he had knelt with his back to her right up against her mother. Now, however, because of Daddy's lying on his back with his legs spread and shameless Betsy bowing down before him, Angela had an unimpaired view of his physical vigor.
Betsy's tongue again emerged, attacking the other testicle, sweeping up it along the hard scrotum-root, then rasping the throbbing shaft whose tight skin made the dark veins stand out like writhing snakes.
Her friend's dainty tongue furled over the smooth, taut, velvety point of Angela's daddy's bulging shaft. Angela shivered and once again felt her soft secret spot twitching and pulsating with uncontrollable sensations even more powerful than the ones she had experienced while watching Father Edmund and Mother from the closet peephole. And so once again, almost unthinkingly, while keeping one hand clamped against her mouth, she delved the other under skirt and petticoat to find the itching, tantalizingly twitching cleft of her maiden vulva and began to tickle it through the thin clinging panties. Her thighs shook as the first new hot, waves of naughty girlish onanism began to tingle through her, and she could even feel her dainty nipples stiffening with every quickened breath she took.
Betsy's tongue was going down the other side of her daddy's thing, scraping along the narrow deep groove which set off the spearpoint of the head from the big hard gnarled shaft itself, and following a descent back to his balls. Angela's daddy began to groan and squirm and arch himself up. Finally he gasped, "Get ready, baby, but I'd rather have it all the way inside your sweet tight little cunt!"
Angela repeated the word falteringly inside her mind, baffled for the moment. But the definition was immediately forthcoming, for, with a complaisant giggle and nod, her half nude red-haired girlfriend straightened, then moved forward on her bare knees as her daddy at once clenched his legs together. Angela saw her chum reach down and give Daddy's big hard thing a loving little squeeze, and, holding onto the tip like that, use her other hand to pry open her pee-hole and slowly sink down till what she was holding was lodged just inside the fleshy pink rims of her cleft!
Angela's moaning gasp was nearly audible as she observed this. Her heart was pounding wildly for fear they might have heard. But her fears were groundless. Daddy was arching himself up off the bed to press deeper into Betsy's hairy slit, and her girlfriend was still holding onto his thing - except now she had gripped it at the middle of the shaft with thumb and forefinger. Tilting back her head, her face flushed, eyes wide and sparkling, Betsy gasped out, "Ooooh, Fred, it's so good, it rubs so nice inside my pussy!"
P-pussy? C-cunt?
Was that what they called the place Angela was now frantically rubbing while her resilient buttocks quaked and jerked spasmodically under the lascivious spell of sensual wakening?
As Angela watched incredulously, she saw the half-naked redhead sink down slowly over her father until the enormous, thick shaft had entirely disappeared between Betsy's bare, pale cream legs. The redhead's lush buttocks tightened, then yawned, allowing Angela to glimpse again the mysterious shadowy groove between the palpitating cheeks. Now, her palms pressed down on the bed on either side of Angela's groaning father, Betsy supported herself, immobile for the moment, her head tilted back, her eyes humid and wide and fixed on the ceiling as her firm ripe breasts heaved erratically against the tight, molding sweater.
"Ooooooh, don't go off yet, Fred honey," she huskily begged. "It's so darn nice, I can feel it beating just like your heart right inside my pussy. Can't you?"
"Yeah - Betsy, oh you sweet, sexy, randy little bitch you, spin it out and don't make me come yet, or I'll paddle your cute bare ass!"
Angela had all she could do to stifle the horrified yet excited exclamation that rushed to her trembling lips. By now, too, her finger had dug the thin material of her moist panties deep into her virgin slit and her dainty little clitoris was throbbing and stiffening to proclaim her agitated tumescent state.
She saw her father reach up his hands and squeeze Betsy's breasts - her t-titties, Angela said the word inside her and felt dreadfully naughty - and then he panted, "Take that sweater off, honey. I want to see every bit of you bare-ass naked, Betsy baby!"
"Sure, Fred! Mmm, I love being that way with you. You know how to drive a girl up the wall," Betsy panted as she wriggled and tugged the sweater off.
"Don't you let my cock slip out of its nice warm tight little nest, or else," he warned with a lewd chuckle.
"Oooh, you scare me. Would you spank my fanny if I did, Fred honey?" the ripe-curved naked red-head squealed in mock-alarm.
"Try it and see, baby," he chuckled thickly, again reaching up to clutch the jutting rounds of her sumptuous young velvety-smooth breasts, rubbing the nipples with his thumbpads while Betsy cooed with sensual pleasure as a cat might purr at being stroked.
She wriggled lasciviously, pretending to let his bulging ramrod slip out of her quaking, tightening sheath but without actually doing so.
Angela closed her eyes, nearly fainting with the assault on her virginal senses of all these tumultuous new sights and lewd displays. She had unwittingly entered a strange, exciting but also frightening new world without sufficient advance preparation - baffled as to whom to turn to for help and advice, her mind still staggered by discovering her father naked in bed with her best friend who was only a year older than she was.
The lovely brunette could only express her emotions by speeding the frictioning rub of her forefinger ... and when the sudden violent, hot bubbling wave of pussy-passion seethed through the lips of her twitching maiden love-cleft, her only thought was to move away and press herself forward against the wall, both hands clapped over her mouth to hold back the slightest sound. Her body shook and wavered and she felt a wet, seeping moisture stickly adhere to the stuff of her panties' crotch up against the place she had just been rubbing. Tears came to her eyes as she realized she had committed yet another motal sin ... she would have too much to confess, and her father confessor was sure to set lots of awful penances for her!
"That's it, Betsy honey. Mmm, you're terrific. Now get down over me and let's fuck!" she suddenly heard her father's voice call out.
Blinking her eyes to clear their mistiness, Angela hastened to peek through the convenient opening and saw Betsy stretch out over her father while his arms locked round her shoulders and his mouth glued to hers in a long sucking, wet kiss.
It was like a movie on a three-dimensional screen, unfolding frame by frame, unrehearsed and yet powerfully gut-real. Angela swayed.
Her finger never left the stickied, pulsating nook which the tight little panties shaped out like a soft ripening fig, her other hand constantly clamped over her mouth to make sure she did not betray her presence. As each new scene, each nuance of the flesh-rutting cohesion between her father and her best girlfriend continued, she felt gradually more powerful stimulations take hold of her, making her dainty little nipples expand. The flesh of her inner thighs crawled and shivered as if cold and then hot air from a hairdryer was being sprayed against her. She felt the pulpy coral-pink lips of her feverishly tickling girl-core twitch and spasm ... and even felt, consciously for the first time in her rapidly maturing twelve years, the hardening of the dainty button of her virgin clitoris.
Halfway through this new bout of lust, her father had hoarsely ordered, "That's enough of your playing the man, you sweet little red-haired bitch. Now you just roll on your back and get ready for a good hot fuck, Betsy!"
Angela had watched, bemused and entranced, as Betsy, making a pouting little face at him, had slowly wriggled off the massive, angrily swollen, dark-reddened harpoon of her father's bulging penis. Then the redhead had, catlike, rolled onto her back, grabbed her dimpled knees and pulled them back hard and tight up against her juicy round creamy breasts, masking them as she thus gaped the pink grotto of her vulva and even distended the saucy rosette of her anus.
"Hurry," Betsy had moaned, wriggling her buttocks invitingly. "I'm so close and you had to go and make me pull off - now you just finish what you started in my pussy, Fred lover!"
For Angela, the most shattering sight of all was to watch her father kneel and grab hold of Betsy's lower thighs and, with a single driving lunge, impale her waiting, open peehole with his angrily throbbing spear, driving it in to the very hilt. Then, in a rapid series of in-and-out thrustings and drawing outs, Angela's father shouted out his ecstasy as he gushed himself inside her friend's p-pussy ... making Betsy kick her legs madly in the air and squeal shrilly as she, too, joined her mature lover in release...
Chapter 3
Angela tiptoed back to the kitchen and out of the house, and for a long moment leaned against the side wall, closing her eyes and shivering as she tried to pretend that what she had seen and heard must certainly have been a dream. But the trembling of her inner thighs and the soft moist weakness which attacked her tenderest, most intimate virgin nook told her that it had not been a dream. And she was stricken by the troubling knowledge that when she went to confess, she would have to admit having played with herself ... not once, but twice.
Feverishly, even then she began to make up the story she would tell the listening, unknown priest; she must be sure not to mention Betsy or her father and mother and surely not Father Edmund.
Still dazed by the incredible discovery that her father not only knew Betsy but had been naked and done sinful things with her best chum, Angela at last retraced her steps back home. When she entered the house, she breathed a secret sigh of relief to find her mother, dressed this time in a glossy blue housecoat and sandals, busy running the vacuum cleaner. That had to mean that Father Edmund had left.
Stopping the appliance, Mary Carruthers demanded, "Are you back from seeing Betsy already, Angela?"
"Y-yes, M-Mother. She-she wasn't home, so-so I went for a walk, and I ran into Annie and we talked for a while," the glib lie came quickly to her, but after she had said it, Angela despondently knew this would be still another sin to have to unburden herself of at the confessional.
However, her opulent blonde mother seemed to accept it.
"Oh, that's fine. Well, you may as well take off your best dress and maybe clean up your room. I'll be making supper in about an hour, and your father ought to be home by then."
"All right, Mother."
"That's a good girl. You know; Father Edmund had a lot of nice things to say about you this afternoon, Angela. You just keep doing what your parents tell you, and you'll grow up to be a very great credit to us all."
"T-thank you, Mother," the svelte brunette teenager quavered.
She found herself suddenly wondering if, when Daddy went to church this Sunday, he would have confessed what she had seen him doing with Betsy this afternoon. Or maybe, grown-ups had special dispensation which she didn't know about. It was certainly true that her mother scolded her for many things which she noticed it seemed to be quite proper for her mother to do, like putting on makeup and wearing short skirts. Sometimes it was very hard to know just what your parents expected. And even the sisters over at the parochial school told you all the things you were forbidden to do, but it was funny they never talked about the nice things that were permitted. It was all very puzzling.
Slowly she went to her room and took a shower, hanging up her pretty dress. When she saw that her little panties were suspiciously moist, she turned a very becoming scarlet and hastily shoved them into the laundry hamper in her bathroom. Then she put on a new bra and panty set, and since the weather continued to be oppressively warm and certainly her parents weren't going to ask what she had on underneath tonight, she settled for yellow anklet socks, loafers and her blue middy blouse and matching cotton skirt which just covered her soft dimpled knees.
To satisfy her mother, Angela straightened up her room and then, waiting to be called to supper, sat down at her writing desk with one of her schoolbooks. But even as she flipped the pages, trying to find something interesting to keep her mind on, she couldn't help seeing once again what she had seen through the closet peephole and then through the slightly open door in Betsy's house.
By the time her mother called out "Time for supper, Angela!" the lovely teenager was beginning to squirm uneasily in her chair, aware of secret tinglings between her long satiny legs, and even the snugness of her panties seemed to intensify these sensations.
Hesitantly, she left her bedroom and went into the dining room, where her parents were already at the table. Fred Carruthers looked up with a smile.
"Well, dear, how cool and sweet you look! Enjoying your Easter vacation?"
"Yes, thank you, Daddy."
Her mother looked up from serving the tuna fish salad.
"I meant to tell you, Fred, Father Edmund called this afternoon about the church social in May - you remember the one I mentioned."
"Oh, yes, my dear. How is he these days?"
"Oh, he's a fine upstanding man, Father is. And you'd have been proud about what he had to say about Angela. He sent you his warmest regards."
"I'll reciprocate them when I see him in church Sunday, Mary. Pass the biscuits, please. Thank you. Er - harumph - I brought home quite a bit of work from the office, so I'll be keeping my nose to the grindstone here tomorrow, Mary."
"That means I get the marketing chore, doesn't it, Fred?" Angela's mother uttered a heartfelt sigh.
"Never mind, I'll make it up to you one of these days. Besides, Angela can take care of the house and her old father. My goodness, I haven't had a heart to heart chat with my little girl in a long time, so I'll welcome the chance, indeed I shall. Pass the pitcher of iced tea, if you will, Mary my love ... ah, thank you."
Angela ate listlessly, but her mind was wary all through the meal. She was wondering if her mother would mention to Daddy that she had gone to Betsy's to play during Father Edmund's visit. To her great relief, not a word was spoken on that disturbing subject.
After dinner, there was television, and finally, at nine-thirty, Fred Carruthers yawned and glanced at his wristwatch.
"I think I'd better get a good night's sleep if I'm to get any real work done tomorrow, Mary. Angela my dear, it wouldn't hurt you to go to bed early. That way, you'll be fresh and ready for the weekend."
"Yes, Daddy."
Angela dutifully rose, walked over to her father in the armchair, and bent to give him a goodnight kiss on the cheek. His hands for an instant grasped her sides just above the hips, and she couldn't help blushing, remembering where he had put his hands on Betsy.
"G-good night, Daddy," she stammered and straightened, then went over to her mother on the couch and kissed her on the cheek too and repeated her respectful leave-taking.
Once back in her bedroom, Angela decided to read herself to sleep with the history book. It was much too early to think of falling asleep on such a warm night, and besides her mind was being crowded by all these incredible images which had passed before her innocent eyes. Finally, a little after ten, she closed the book, went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and to undress and put on her yellow cotton pajamas. Then, holding her breath, she tiptoed to her closet and very carefully shifted the jagged chunk of plaster. But the room was dark. Mother must have gone to Daddy's room to sleep tonight.
Fitting the chunk back into its exact place, Angela turned out her light and got into bed. But it was dreadfully hard to fall asleep, because now that her eyes were closed, those naughty pictures came swirling back into her mind as vividly as when she had first seen them. Finally, almost in self-defense, she edged a forefinger down to the crotch of her pajama pants and began to tickle herself. And then at last, shivering and squirming, she felt the waves of hot girlish excitement take hold of her and leave her quivering and soothed and released ... and then at last sleep came.
* * *
To Angela's pleasant surprise, her mother didn't wake her as was customary on a school day, and so Angela enjoyed the healthy luxury of deep sleep till well after ten the next morning. She put on the same pretty blouse and skirt outfit she had worn the night before, and went to the kitchen to get her breakfast.
Her mother was there, seated at the table, making out a grocery list for the afternoon shopping. Mary Carruthers wore a red cotton dress, flesh toned nylons and black pumps, and looked fresh and youthful. Looking up at her daughter with a gracious smile, she greeted the pretty brunette teenager by saying, "Good morning, sleepyhead! I'll get your breakfast as soon as I'm finished with the shopping list."
"I can get it myself, Mother," Angela volunteered, somewhat uneasy at her mother's unusual cheerfulness.
Invariably her mother lost no opportunity to sermonize to her lovely virginal daughter over the most insignificant faults, from having a sloppy room to coming home late from school.
"No, darling, I'll do it. There, now, I'm done. Now let's see - my big girl needs a good breakfast so she can grow up to be a strong, healthy young woman. A big glass of orange juice, toast and jam and milk. You sit down here, and I'll have it ready in a jiffy."
Angela decided not to protest, though a sensation of being fattened like a sacrificial lamb passed vaguely through her young, impressionable mind. It was certainly more discreet to humor her mother than to start an argument. But things were so strange, she wasn't sure what was happening at all.
After breakfast, Angela volunteered to help her mother do the marketing, but her mother would have none of it.
"No, it's still your school vacation, dear, so I want you to enjoy it. Don't worry, you'll run plenty of errands starting next week. But for today and tomorrow, just relax and be happy. Oh, one thing more - your father is going to be working in his room, so try not to disturb him when I'm gone this afternoon, dear."
"I won't, Mother," Angela dutifully murmured.
She took her dishes to the sink to wash and put them away. Again her mother stopped her, insisting that this was her day of recreation, not work. Mystified, the girl thanked her mother then asked, "Would it be all right if I go visit Betsy?"
"I saw her going to the store just before you came out for breakfast, dear," Mary Carruthers quickly replied. "Why don't you go out and enjoy the garden? Maybe you can pull up some of the weeds. It'll do you good to get out into the fresh air."
"Okay, Mother, then I better change my clothes to work in the garden," Angela sighed.
"That's a good idea. Of course, when people visit us the way Father Edmund did yesterday, I like to see my little girl looking like a grown up young lady. I'm very pleased with you, dear."
Angela's mother again surprised the lovely young brunette with smiling flattery.
Back in her room Angela was more puzzled than ever. She changed into snug jeans and a light pullover sweater over the cotton bra and panties, then went into the garden and began thoughtfully pulling weeds. There were more weeds than she had imagined. It was well past noon when she at last finished. When she went back into the house, her mother had left a note thumb-tacked up on the wall.
Angela - there are sandwiches in the refrigerator for your
lunch. I probably won't be back till four or five, so you
can take a nap or watch television. Be sure not to disturb Daddy. Love,
Mother
Angela sat and ate her sandwiches and had a Pepsi. She decided to take a shower and change back to her skirt and blouse because the garden work had made her dirty and sweaty. As she was getting out of the shower and toweling herself, she heard her bedroom door open.
"Oh g - gosh !" she gasped, turning scarlet and grabbing her green cotton bathrobe from the wall hook.
Hastily she put it on, just tying the knot of the little belt when her father appeared.
He was in his bathrobe, pajamas and slippers and hadn't shaved, as she could see from the dark stubble at his jaws and cheeks. He stood staring at her, blinking his eyes, a foolish little smile on his lips.
"Well now, Angie honey, this is a nice surprise!"
"H-hello, D-Daddy. D-did you finish your work?"
He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture.
"Sure, Angie. Lotta work, jus' finish, that's why I said to myself, I said, Fred boy, time you looked in'n saw how cute l'il Angie's doing, all my herself 'n'everythin'. Thass zactly what I said, honey. Mmm, you look sweet 'n'cute, right out of the tub, I bet, hm?"
He moved towards her, and the black-haired young girl swallowed hard, her cheeks reddening at the foolish smile deepening ors his lips, the glitter in his eyes. Suddenly she remembered that she had seen him naked with Betsy across the street, doing sinful things.
"Hey now, don't run 'way from your of father, honey. Just gimme a li'l kiss. Father's got a right to kiss his own daughter, I always say. C'mere now, baby. Be nice or Daddy spank."
Trapped in the doorway of her bathroom, Angela could hardly escape without pushing her father away. Besides, trained as she had been all these years to respect and obey her parents, such an act would have been unthinkable. Resignedly, she tilted up her lovely face to be kissed. Fred Carruthers chuckled thickly, moved still closer, put his hands on her waist and pulled her to him, giving her a long, hard kiss on the mouth.
"Ouff - y-you're h-hurting me, D-Daddy !" she gasped.
His lips had bruised her mouth and, besides, there was a strong odor of whiskey to him. She put her soft hands against his chest, gently trying to disengage herself, but her father kept hold of her, then kissed her on the mouth again. This time, his right hand moved round her, and Angela started and gasped as she suddenly felt him squeeze her buttocks through the thin robe.
"D-Daddy - don't, please-"
"Aw, c'mon, honey, don't be that way. Y'see, baby, your mother'n I made a li'l deal. Mary'n I, well, we've been good churchgoing folks all our lives, 'n now it's time we had a li'l fun fer ourselves while we're still young enough to enjoy it. Swinging fun, baby. 'N it's time you started havin' fun along with us, get me, Angie ?"
Owlishly he blinked at her, his grin lecherous and drunken, and then as she kept staring at him with uncomprehending, widened eyes, he clamped his left arm round her shoulders, plunged his right hand into the folds of the bathrobe and pressed his palm against her bare belly.
"Hey, Angie honey, you haven't got panties on - mm, such nice soft skin, you're growing up just right, honey!"
"Oooh - D-Daddy - please - d-don't - take your hand away - OH - NOO!"
Angela's voice rose to an anguished wail. In wriggling away from his probing hand, and while pushing at his chest with both of her hands, she had unwittingly given her daddy the opportunity to press his hand down between her squirming bare thighs and rub the black curls which framed her adorable pink-lipped virgin cunt.
"Don't yell like that, honey, I'm not gonna hurt my little darlin' Angie," Fred Carruthers mumbled, his face red and contorted. "Now you be nice 'n put your arms round me and gimme a nice hug 'n kiss, or I'll be real angry with my big girl!"
All the while he spoke, his palm was rubbing back and forth over the delicious plump mound of Angela's sex mound, and the frantic young girl, beside herself with shame, kept squirming this way and that, reluctant to strike or kick her own father.
"Ohhh, Daddy, please - I - I'll kiss you - but please do take your h-hand away - it - it's not right. You're my father, please take it away!" she pleaded.
Through her distraught mind flashed the awareness that this, too, was perhaps the greatest of all mortal sins, one she would be honor bound to confess in the curtained booth.
"All right, gimme that nice sweet kiss then, 'n I'll take my hand away," her father bargained.
He drew his arm back, though tightening his hold round her slim shoulders with his other arm.
Panting and shivering, feeling strange tingling sensations where his palm had rubbed so salaciously, the young girl locked her arms round his neck and, closing her eyes, gave him a surrendering, naive kiss on the cheek.
"Aw, c'mon, that's no kiss, Angie," Fred Carruthers complained in a slurred, husky voice. "Now you lissen good. Hear me, your of dad has something real important to tell you - like I just said, Angie, your mom 'n me, we worked out a nifty l'il deal and you're in it. We're all gonna be real lovey-dovey, 'n that means you gotta coop'rate, see, Angie sweetheart?"
"N-no, I don't, Daddy - please - get out for a minute, anyhow, so I can put some clothes on, won't you please, Daddy?" Angela piteously quavered, still struggling against her father's relentless hold.
Then she uttered a shrill wail of consternation; taking her by surprise, he had plunged his right hand into the open top of her bathrobe and grabbed one of her firm, young pear breasts and was squeezing it lovingly as he leeringly approached his red, swollen face to hers and stifled another plaintive outcry with a hot, moist, greedy kiss.
In his intoxicated state, Fred Carruthers pinched Angela's pink nipple more painfully than he realized. Angela uttered a cry of mingled consternation and anguish; in a defensive reaction her little fist struck against his wrist and he dropped his offending hand, stumbling backwards with a rueful and startled expression at this sign of filial disloyalty.
"Angie - you'd hit your own father! Oh, you naughty girl you!"
"Daddy - I have to get some clothes on. Please - you - you sit down and I'll go outside and dress, and then - and then we'll talk - will you, please?" she pleaded, very close to tears.
Vaguely, through the fog of liquor and lust, Fred realized that he had perhaps gone too far too quickly and, mumbling an incoherent apology, he staggered to her bed and slumped down on the edge, rubbing his face. Angela profited from this pause to snatch up her white cotton bra and panties, the middy blouse and matching skirt, her anklets and loafers, and, her face turning scarlet as the none too securely fastened bathrobe suddenly swung open to reveal the breathtaking glories of her budding titties and the suave, dimpled belly and the thick black triangle which marked her virgin pussy, hurried out of the room and made for her mother's bedroom, where she swiftly clad herself.
In her mother's bathroom, she seized a comb and combed her glossy black cascade of hair straight back, twisting it into a thick single braided pigtail and securing it with a rubber band. Surveying herself in her mother's dressing-table mirror Angela uttered a sigh of satisfaction. The pigtail made her look charmingly juvenile. Naive though she was, Angela's instinct told her that perhaps if her father saw her now, he would realize that, after all, she was still only twelve.
As she went back to her room, the sudden thought assailed her that Betsy was only a year older, and just look what Daddy had been doing with her! As she entered, Fred Carruthers looked up and brightened.
"Angie, hey, you look just fine, dear! Come sit on my lap and give me a nice hug and a kiss and say you're sorry for having hit your own father!"
"I am, Daddy, but you oughtn't to have - to have felt me that way," she blurted.
Very slowly and warily, Angela moved to the edge of the bed. Fred Carruthers chuckled softly, reached for her, and pulled her onto his lap, shifting her sideways so that he could circle her waist with his left arm and have his right hand free.
"Now kiss me nice," he muttered thickly.
"Yes, Daddy," the black-haired teenager obediently murmured.
Her smooth, satiny bare arms wound round his neck and she again kissed him on the cheek.
"Not that way. Do it right, honey," her father urged.
He demonstrated what he meant by forcing his mouth against her soft lips. As Angela squirmed and gasped, she suddenly stiffened and her eyes want very wide. Against her jouncy bottom she had unmistakably felt a hard, jabbing protuberance - his rigid prick was roused by the frictioning feel of her delectable, resilient behind in his lap. And at the same moment, profiting from her distraction, Fred Carruthers slyly slid his right hand under her skirt all the way up to the crotch of her dainty little white panties and began to poke and rub the soft plump virgin cunt mound with a forefinger's knowing tip.
Frantically embarrassed, Angela reacted with a wild squeal, clenching her legs together fiercely while she tried to wriggle off his lap. But the constricting fetter of his left arm and his renewed hot savage kisses on her panting young sweet mouth, together with his insistent poking finger which pressed the thin cotton fabric in between her twitching and now involuntarily moistening cuntal lips, prevented her escape. Finally, twisting her mouth away, she gasped almost hysterically, "Oh don't do that. Please - you mustn't touch me there, Daddy. It's not right!"
"Not right? Why, you sweet little cherry you, that's where a girl ought to be touched before she does it the first time, to wake her up. Didn't I tell you that your mother and I had made a cozy little arrangement, Angela baby? Relax now, stop trying to get away, baby. Your mother won't care if you show your old father some nice sweet young love and affection. Kiss me again and open your lips. I'll show you why!"
"N - ohh - stop. it - oh don't touch rime there. Please, you just mustn't!" Angela sobbed.
With a last despairing effort she pushed with all her might against his heaving chest. At last she managed to scramble off his lap and run sobbing out of the house. She knew what she had to do - she needed someone's advice, because what was happening to her had become too much to cope with. She would go to confession right now and perhaps one of the old priests would comfort her and absolve her of the sin of playing with herself ... down there ... after she told him what she had seen within twenty-four short hours of her chaste and innocent. young life.
Sniffling and trying to control her tears, she slowed down as she reached the stone steps of the old church, and, glancing fearfully back down the street, began to climb them.
It was as well for her peace of mind that she had no way of knowing that her father had hurried to the telephone and was, even at this moment, talking in a low, confidential voice. When he hung up, he rubbed his hands together and chuckled, a lewd glint in his narrowed eyes...
Chapter 4
Angela had been comforted to find that there were no parishioners in any of the pews. She walked to the very last of the three curtained confessional booths and entered it. At once she knelt down, hastily crossed herself, and began to pray silently, suppressing a sniffle every now and again.
Suddenly she heard footsteps which grew closer, then stopped. She knew from this that the priest had come to hear her confession.
"F-forgive me, F-Father, for I have sinned," she blurted.
Then Angela uttered a loud sigh in which both relief and shame were mixed. But now the uneasy knowledge that she must tell the truth and yet not involve either her mother and father, or Betsy and least of all Father Edmund, weighted heavily upon her disoriented young mind.
"I am here, my daughter. How have you sinned?"
It was a deeply resonant baritone voice, and its very solemn one made her start and her lovely gray-green eyes widened with dismay. Was it possibly Father Joseph? No, he was white-haired and his voice cracked sometimes. Maybe it was Father Thomas, though usually his voice was lighter and less grave. Quickly striving to compose her rambling thoughts, she stammered, "I-I have had sinful th-thoughts, Father. About things of the flesh."
"Yes, my daughter? Go on!"
"I-I have done a forbidden thing ... w ... with myself at n ... night, Father."
"That is to say, you have played with yourself - is that correct?"
"Yes, Father. I ... I'm ashamed."
"Have you done this many times, my daughter?"
"N ... not as ... not as often as the last few days, Father. But ... but when - c ... can't sleep, sometimes I..."
"It is a selfish and corrupt thing, my daughter, and you must repent your sin. Also, you will tell me why it is that you have committed this sin more frequently than usual the last few days."
His voice was very deep, very grave now.
Squirming nervously on her knees, Angela Carruthers frantically tried to compose her thoughts into harmless words that would not betray those dearest to her.
"I-I - " she falteringly began.
"Yes, my daughter, I am waiting. Do not try to hide anything, for that in itself is a deception at this sacred moment of confession," the deep voice prompted her.
"I'm trying, Father. But - but I didn't actually do anything wrong - I mean, about what I saw, Father. It - it was just an accident - "
"Tell me about it, my daughter," the voice reproved her, and the note of impatience in it made the lovely young virgin squirm restlessly on her knees, as if seeking a less uncomfortable site from which to describe the shocking visions which had been revealed to her.
"Well, Father, accidentally, I - I saw a grownup woman in bed with ... with a man, and they - they were doing things, Father."
Angela's face turned crimson, her young breasts rose and fell erratically.
"He ... he was kneeling behind her, Father, and ... and pushing himself against ... against her b ... bottom, and she didn't have any clothes on."
"Was that all you saw, my child?"
"No ... no, Father. Later the same afternoon, I ... I went to see a girl I know, and the door was open and she ... she was in bed too, with a man, and they were both un ... undressed, and kissing and ... and things - " her voice trailed off.
"And you watched, without turning away, my daughter?"
"Y ... yes ... I know I shouldn't have, Father, but I ... I was so shocked, I didn't know what to do," Angela quavered, very close to tears.
"And on both those occasions, I take it, you played with yourself ?"
"Y ... yes ... I did, Father."
"That was a wicked sin of the flesh, my daughter. For your penance, say a hundred Hail Marys and humbly resolve not to offend either by eavesdropping on such damnable scenes or by gratifying your own weak, shameful flesh as you have told me you do, my daughter."
"I ... I will, Father."
"See that you do, my child. Now repeat the prayer of contrition with me, and then you may go. Say, 'Oh God, I am heartily sorry I have sinned and offended thee - ' "
Trembling and with bowed head, Angela repeated the prayer to the very end, and then heard the priest say, "Go now, daughter, and resolve to sin no more."
She rose unsteadily, her dimpled knees aching from the long sojourn on the hard leather-padded prayer stool, drew back the curtain and moved towards the door. She uttered a stifled cry of alarm. Someone seized her wrist and was drawing her round the booth towards the door of the sacristy. She saw the black robe of a priest, but she saw only his back.
There was a vague metallic click - the turning of the key in the lock - and then the priest turned to face her. She recoiled, a hand at her mouth, her eyes enormous. It was Father Edmund!
"Oh, my poor unhappy daughter, you have sinned grievously, and you must do penance," he said, shaking his head and staring at Angela, till she felt her knees threaten to give way.
"Father Edmund - -were you the one who - just now?"
"Yes, my child. Young though you are, Angela, there is latent corruption in you. To be able to stand by and watch fleshly wickedness without courageously shutting your eyes against its carnal temptations and, worst of all, to commit the dreadful sin of Onan, shows a deplorable weakness of character. Clearly, you must suffer corporal penance as well as the spiritual penance I have already imposed. Avow your wickedness, my child, and humbly submit yourself to this penance, that it may mortify your weak, yielding flesh and strengthen you to bear the tests which alone can redeem you for salvation."
"Yes, Father. I-I didn't mean to watch, honest I didn't - "
"Hush, child, do not add the sin of mendacity to your already numerous offenses!"
He shook a warning finger at the trembling girl. Then, taking hold of her wrist again, Father Edmund led her, unresisting, towards a straightbacked chair in which he seated himself. Next, to Angela's embarrassed consternation, he adroitly pulled her down over his lap.
"Ohh - Father Edmund - what?" she gasped in a choked, incredulous voice.
"Be still, Angela! I am going to administer the discipline called for by your transgressions of the flesh - it is only fitting that I chastise those parts of you which sinned," he announced as she squirmed helplessly over his knees.
Then he reached down to tug up her skirt and roll it high on her back, revealing the firm jouncy oval globes of her bottom shaped out in the most provocative way by the tight little white cotton panties.
His left arm clamped round her waist, and he passed his right palm lightly and lingeringly over the jutting, impudently upreared globes of her maiden bottom. Angela wriggled frantically, glancing fearfully back, her cheeks crimson with shame.
"Oh, please, Father Edmund. What are you g-going to do to me?"
"Chastise you, child, and on the place nature has designated for such discipline. It must, of course, be completely unprotected in order for the punishment to be effective. Prepare yourself, daughter, and remember, submission is a virtue that will redeem - though not entirely, to be sure - your many sins!"
To the girl's shame, Father Edmund inserted his fingers under the waistband of her little panties and began to tug them down. Angela implored him to spare her this supreme humiliation.
"Oh no ! Oh please, Father Edmund, leave my panties on - if - if you have to punish me, I - I'll submit. Please ... can't you punish me over them?"
"No, my daughter, it must be on the naked flesh, as I told you! Now lie still and resign yourself. And while I am administering correction, tell yourself it is for your own good and your ultimate salvation!"
As he concluded this declaration, Father Edmund's fingers gave an energetic tug and poor Angela found herself with her panties pulled inside out at the middle of her long, nervously muscled naked thighs, the satiny ovals of her virgin bottom lasciviously bared. A sobbing wail of mortification announced her anguish, followed by a squeal of mingled indignation and fear when his right palm again caressingly palpated the enticing contours.
"Submit yourself humbly, now, my child," he reminded her, pulling Angela in more closely with his left arm and edging it down over her right hip.
Then, lifting his other hand, he brought it down with a smart, noisy Smack!
"Ohhhh ! Oh please don't spank me, Father Edmund!" Angela groaned, her little hands clenched in front of her.
This was the first time she had ever been spanked on her bare butt. Only her mother had ever spanked her, and then over her panties or dress, on the spur of the moment for some childish prank. Angela's last actual spanking had occurred about three years ago. And that was exactly why she was crushed with humiliation and shame to find herself so ignominiously and helplessly draped across the priest's lap.
Smack! Smack!
Warming to his task, the black-robed priest applied two crisp, stinging blows with the flat of his palm, each against the ripest curve of a tensing, shivering bottom. Angela's feet kicked up in a flurry of distress and discomfort, while she again glanced back over her shoulder to try to beg herself off this atrociously humiliating penance. With all her might, she tightened the muscles of her up-raised naked behind, clenching her thighs together so that Father Edmund couldn't see the most intimate part of her exposed virginal body.
His hand rose and fell without pause. Half a dozen rapid but stinging slaps visited her upturned bare bottom, distributed from the top of the twitching, huddling oval globes to the base, just where her lovely long thighs merged. Angela twisted like an eel and finally rushed one hand back to cover up, sobbing, "Oh please don't, oh I'm so ashamed, Father Edmund!"
His answer was to swing his right leg out from under her while his left arm shifted her slightly forward. Then his free leg clamped solidly over her calves, preventing Angela from kicking while this angling of her body over one knee instead of two served to arch up her rosy-splotched naked bottom even more prominently. Angela's sobs and groans at once indicated that she was aware, naive though she was, of how much more of her maiden nudity she was thus being obliged to show him.
Overwhelmed by shame and the even more complex distress of knowing that this handsome, domineering priest had shut himself up with her own mother - just as he was with her right now - Angela tried to stave off the stinging pangs of the spanking as well as to shield her unprofaned young naked flesh from his sight and touch by pressing both soft hands over her upthrust, reddening bare behind. But with a sly, soft chuckle, as if he had anticipated this very maneuver, Father Edmund hunched over the wildly struggling half nude girl and slipped his left hand round and under her, his forefinger's tip attacking the silky-fleeced apex of her virgin cunt.
"Ohhh nooo, don't touch me there, F-Father Edmund. Please, not there!" she tearfully shrilled.
She tried to plunge both hands under her to grab at his profaning hand and wrest it away from the most private nook of her delectably nubile young body.
"Stop that at once, you disobedient, rebellious child!" he scolded hoarsely. "Shall I tell your parents how you resist your holy confessor and refuse to accept your penance?"
"No, Father, but oh don't touch me there, it - it's not decent!" was all the sobbing young beauty could poignantly counter as she frantically kept weaving her loins in a desperate attempt to dislodge his finger, which had, during her struggles, found the dainty little nub of her clitoris and was now insistently tweaking and rubbing it, then pressing it back down into the protective cowl of soft girlish pussy flesh and letting it bob up again, visibly stiffening from the lascivious friction of his cunning manipulations.
"Oh, my misguided daughter," he at once replied, purposely pressing his forefinger against her hardening little lovebud to make it disappear inside the tender, moistening pink flesh of her maiden pussy.
His right palm roamed at will over her contracting, rosy-flushed bottom cheeks.
"How can you use such a word when it is you, by stealth and shameless deception, who have committed the greatest indecency - that of spying on your elders. You should have at once turned your eyes away from the corrupting sight. But no, you watched as if you longed to take part in such infamous orgies - and thus, poor Angela, you sinned as greatly as those you now condemn in the confessional! Resign yourself, it will be a long penance and you must feel all of it to achieve the degree of contrition which alone can save your soul!"
With this sententious statement, which could not help but impress the, frightened, shamed young beauty because of her strict upbringing and her constant attendance at church, Father Edmund gave her behind a smart slap which drew a plaintive squeal from the distressed brunette, and then sternly ordered, "Now then, my daughter, clasp your hands and hold them out in front of you. Do not dare to protect your impudent bottom, or I shall be obliged to tie your hands, and then of course your penance will be the more severe because of your rebelliousness!"
With a groan of deepest shame, poor Angela obeyed, closing her eyes and squirming feverishly, trying in her gyrations to dislodge his finger from her peehole. But she could not. Even as she became aware of hot, throbbing sensations in her most secret niche, Father Edmund resumed the spanking with a pair of crisply resonant slaps that flattened the ripest summit of each bottom-globe in turn and drew a sobbing plea for pardon from the helpless young captive.
"Oww - ohh, F-Father, please, n-not so hard!"
"You must learn to suffer pain and bear it courageously, Angela," he countered, pulling his circling left arm towards himself so as to drag her closer to him.
He said it without releasing her quivering little clit. At the same time, he reached out to roll her rumpled skirt back up again so her condemned bare seat would have no protection as he applied four vigorous spanks, two to the base of each vividly reddened buttock. His eyes gleamed to see poor Angela's naked hips lunge and twist and arch and flatten; which disclosed to his eagerly vigilant gaze the bewitching sight of her soft, pink, cuntal lips framed by the luxurious silky black curls. At times, when the contractions of her bottom relaxed to display the furtive sinuosity of her anal groove, Father Edmund had the delicious and forbidden pleasure of observing the soft, petulant shell-pink lips of her virgin bottomhole puckering and twitching as if moved by erotic stimulus from the spanking.
Again he let his right palm rest caressingly on her crimsoned naked behind, savoring the uncontrollable flexing of her girlish, tender flesh. His left forefinger momentarily released her turgid little clit to tickle the soft coral rims of her quivering cuntal lips.
Angela, tears running down her contorted face, moaned and continued to wriggle this way and that, but by now it was not entirely just from the expert frigging Father Edmund was inflicting since her tender behind was beginning to smart intolerably.
"Are you beginning to be less rebellious, my daughter, and to repent your sins?" he asked her, and, when she could not speak for trying to catch her breath, punctuated the question with a hard smack of his palm over the narrow, sinuous shadowy crevice that separated her satiny buttocks.
Angela's naked hips lunged and jerked.
"Ow, oh, yes, yes, I am, oh please no more, Father, please!"
As Angela kept squirming fitfully in her distress, she was vaguely aware of a hard, unyielding object that kept poking her lower abdomen and inner thighs, but, still virgin, she did not recognize it as the swollen and by now savagely erect prick of her confessor-executioner.
"For shame, child!" Father Edmund scolded, having poked his finger all around the lips of her maiden vulva and inside, up to the virgin barrier of her hymen. "The wetness which I detect with my finger tells me, Angela, that you are again experiencing naughty, forbidden pleasures. Yet you are here to be properly punished, not to experience your own wicked, selfish satisfaction. Get yourself ready for a really hard chastisement!"
Reluctantly withdrawing his finger from her twitching maiden cunt, the priest ordered her to put her wrists together behind her back. Then he gripped them tightly with his left hand. With his right leg already locking her calves in a vise of steel, the young brunette was totally unable to prevent his doing whatever he wished.
For the moment, however, Father Edmund was quite content to spank her jouncy, firm, satiny naked behind, with slowly applied slaps, equally distributed to both wriggling, contracting, angrily reddening globes, ignoring her shrill increasingly plaintive and almost incoherent cries for pardon.
When he paused, his face brick-red with lust, his eyes glittering at the lascivious sight of her angrily inflamed, quaking buttocks, Angela was crying as if her heart would break, weaving and jerking her bare hips about so wildly that he constantly beheld the yawning pink inside of her virgin cunt as well as the amber rosy orifice of her equally virgin asshole. And it was this latter maidenhead which Father Edmund determined to enjoy.
"There now," he panted, pressing his palm down over the crease of her flaming buttocks, "are you ready to obey without question and to submit to any penance I see fit to give you, Angela?"
"Ahhh - ohh - ouu - ahhh - boo hoo hoo, yyes, Father. I'll do anything you say, only please, pleeeeease, d ... don't sp - spank me any more!" she sobbed hysterically.
"That shows a better attitude of contrition, my child. Very well. You may get up. Do you see that armchair in the corner?"
"Yes Father," Angela said tearfully.
Having been released, she staggered to her feet and promptly clapped both hands to her bottom and began to rub, heedless of the enchantingly juvenile spectacle she made of herself thereby.
"Very well. You are to remove your skirt and your panties completely, Angela, then walk over here, kneel down on the seat and bend your head and arms over the top. That will be the beginning of your final penance this afternoon!" he commanded.
She stared at him, her lips trembling and tears glistening in her dilated gray-green eyes.
"What are you gonna do to me, Father Edmund?" she quavered.
"If you don't obey me, child, I'm afraid I'll have to give you a much harder spanking," he sternly replied. "This time it will be with a leather belt!"
"Oh no !" Angela moaned.
Feverishly she began to unfasten her skirt. When it dropped to the floor, she stopped, wincing from the hot pangs that at once were rekindled in her spanked bottom, tugged the twisted panties off, and then, blushing to her earlobes, almost ran to the chair and knelt down, welcoming the opportunity to hide her pussy from his glittering eyes. Father Edmund moved slowly towards her. He had put his hand into the pocket of his robe and was taking out a little tube, unscrewing the cap.
"Bend well over the top of the chair, Angela," he hoarsely instructed, "or I shall be forced to spank you again to teach you the meaning of humble and prompt obedience!"
With an anguished groan, the lovely young brunette obeyed, thus arching and thrusting out her vividly reddened bottom, which was in exciting contrast with the deeply hollowed smooth back and long, lovely squirming thighs. His eyes feasted on the tender virgin flesh of her buttocks and thighs, and the stifled sounds of her timid sobs and fearful sighs made the black robe suddenly thrust forward at the level of his crotch, indicating that his massive virility had been furiously roused by this preliminary chastisement of the nubile young virgin.
"Now, hold very still and do not dare to prevent what I am going to do to you, my daughter," he solemnly intoned as he smeared some Vaseline onto his right forefinger. Then he bent over the kneeling, trembling teenager and suddenly opened the jouncy oval cheeks of her crimsoned bottom to expose the shrinking rosette of her maiden asshole.
"Ohhh, Father, Father Edmund, oh don't - do - t-that!" Angela moaned, upset by the unexpected exposure of her most secret orifice, never before viewed by a man's profaning eyes.
"Silence, daughter, this is part of your act of contrition and must be humbly endured if I am to grant you absolution from your wickedness," was Father Edmund's hoarse rejoinder.
As he proceeded to rub the ointment all over Angela's dainty shrinking anus, he nearly made her faint with shame by dextrously inserting the tip of his forefinger just inside her butt lips and rubbing here and there to make certain that the passageway to bliss would be thoroughly lubricated.
Angela's blushes deepened and she began to sob softly as she bowed her head, utterly annihilated in her tender virginal modesty by such handling of her nakedness. But Father Edmund used this understandable physical reaction as a pretext for chiding his helpless young captive.
"Impudent, sinful girl, is this your way of expressing humility and gratitude for the absolution you seek to gain? Now then, daughter, bend your rebellious head and shoulders farther down and stick out your impudent bottom for the application of holy oil."
As she tearfully obeyed, Angela was dying of mortification to realize how indecently she was arching out her satiny posterior. Father Edmund swiftly rucked up his robe and revealed himself naked save for socks and black shoes beneath. His penis was savagely erect, the dark veins angrily swollen and the lips of the glans were twitching with spasmodic agitation, a testimonial to the erotic excitement into which poor Angela's confession and subsequent chastisement had drawn him. He squeezed more of the greasy ointment onto his finger and proceeded to anoint his organ from tip to testicles. Then, face reddened and eyes narrowed with lustful anticipation, Father Edmund approached the crouching, trembling sniffling girl.
"Now then, my daughter, resign yourself and accept your penance," he muttered, prying open the quaking, tightening cheeks of her reddened behind ramming greased tip of his cock against the shrinking rosette of her virgin asshole.
The swift directness of Father Edmund's procedure had stunned Angela. Before she could twist away she felt his glans probe against the tender petals of her bumhole and force between them. Only then, horrified at the sensation, did she protest.
"Ohhhh, don't do that, it hurts, don't poke me there, please, Father!"
"Hold still, and don't dare pull away, my child, or I'll be forced to spank your naked behind very hard indeed with a stinging belt! Now, Angela, you remember what you told me at the confessional, that you had seen a grownup man pushing against the bottom of a woman - isn't that so?"
"Ah - y-y-es, F-Father - ohhh, please take it out of my asssss!" Angela wriggled like a fish on the end of a harpoon, imploring reprieve from this incredible penetration, the sensation of which was entirely new and extremely painful to her.
"No, daughter, you must suffer it bravely and humbly, for it is your penance, as I warned you. But now, what I am doing to your bottom, my child. Isn't it what you saw this man do with this woman? Tell me the truth, sinful girl that you are!"
At this, Father Edmund thrust violently forward, his hands gripping Angela's bare hips tightly so that she could not jerk away. With a wailing, rising cry, Angela announced both the martyrdom of her anal virginity and the affirmation of what she had truly seen.
"Aiiiii - ouuuyessss - ahhh, ohh."
The tightness of her delicious anal sheath was, quite naturally, greater than that of her maiden cunthole. Father Edmund, face twisted and darkened with his lust, groaned aloud as he felt the walls of Angela's rectal canal clench spasmodically against his almost entirely imbedded prick. With another hard lunge he managed to hilt himself to the balls, redoubling the frantic contractions which gripped and clamped his organ in the most indescribably rapturous way as if poor Angela were sexually responding with all her adolescent ardor to her first bottom-fucking.
"Yes, daughter," the priest panted, glorying in the feverish clenchings of Angela's asshole against his throbbing prick, "you shall have first-hand evidence of what you alleged you saw this man doing to this woman ... do you feel me inside your dainty little bumhole, my eavesdropping, sinful child?"
"Ahhhrr - yes - oh, Father Edmund, please stop. Oh take it out of meee. It's splitting me apart, I'm begging you to stop it, owouuuhh - pleeeeease," Angela hysterically wailed.
But by now his rut was ungovernable. Slipping his left forefinger to the apex of her soft pink cuntal lips and finding the dainty nub of her virgin clit, Father Edmund began to rub it furiously while his other hand reached round to clamp against her belly and thus compel Angela to meet his relentless charge. He began to bottom-fuck the squirming black-haired girl with formidably deep strokes, drawing back to the ring of sphincter muscles at the very brink of her asshole, till, with a bellow of ecstasy, Father Edmund felt himself burst all his pent-up essence deep into her quaking bowels.
Slowly, he pulled out with a noisy "Plop!" Taking out a handkerchief from the pocket of his robe, he wiped his stiff, greasy penis.
Angela, huddled on her knees, bowed over the back of the armchair, sobbing softly, felt turmoil seething in her entire being - for Father Edmund's frigging of her clit had, at the last moment, procured pleasurable sensations that offset the aching torment of her nether lovehole.
"You have done penance, my child, so you may dress and go," Father Edmund panted as he smoothed the robe, and left the sacristy.
After a few moments, the distraught girl collected her discarded panties and skirt, put them back on, and tottered from the church to return home. The enormity of what had taken place had numbed her mind. Perhaps her mother, she thought, could explain why Father Edmund had been so dreadful to her...
Chapter 5
Angela's thoughts were jumbled as she approached the little house, her hair was disheveled and her cheeks still moist with the tears of her first real virginal loss and the stinging of her tender bottom. Each step she took made her conscious of the throbbing sensitivity of her dainty anus, and yet the tickling Father Edmund's finger had so insistently administered to her clit had wakened feelings which were even stronger.
Moreover, since she herself had already experienced them - though in much milder form - from her nocturnal self-fingering, Angela was able for all her innocence to understand that the very shock and shame of having a man - even though he was a priest and her confessor - strip and fondle her so intimately had been really what had intensified her tingling pleasure in front while her furtive little bottomhole had been initiated into adapting its tight and narrow inlet to the dimensions of the male.
Also, she had an uneasy and somewhat guilty fear that Father Edmund had as much as guessed that she had been spying on him and her mother, for when he had remarked that now she would know first-hand what had taken place between the woman and the man mentioned - though of course not identified - in her confession. And what frightened Angela most was that the tall, stern priest might tell her mother and thus sentence her to even worse punishment than she had just endured in the sacristy.
Also, he had said nothing to comfort her about having seen Daddy and Betsy together, only to scold her for her wickedness in eavesdropping on her elders and in not closing her eyes and turning away once she had seen what was being done in those beds. They were surely mortal sins, judging from all the teaching she had had, and yet Father Edmund hadn't even admitted as much.
At the last moment, Angela decided to enter the house through the kitchen and perhaps avoid meeting either her mother or father. She smoothed her rumpled skirt, dried her eyes and blew her nose, and then nervously opened the door and walked timidly inside. Her heart sank at once. Her mother must have just returned from marketing. She was in the kitchen with her back to Angela.
"Oh - h-hi, Mother," the black-haired teenager mumbled, and began to edge sideways towards the hallway, hoping to gain the sanctuary of her own room where she would change her clothes and repair the damages inflicted by Father Edmund's unique form of penance.
But fate was decidedly against Angela. Mary Carruthers turned, her blue eyes widening, then narowing.
"Angela, where have you been? Just look at you, young lady! Your skirt and blouse are a disgrace, and your face is red and swollen - what have you been up to?"
"Nothing - Mother. I went to con-confession, that's all, honest it is!" the blackhaired teenager faltered.
But the furious blush which rushed to her cheeks, a nervous reaction from all that had just happened and augmented by her mother's hostile and suspicious accusation, only served to increase Mary Carruthers' irritation.
"Oh, that's all, is it? A likely story! Like as not, you were flirting with some boy you met, probably in the alley!"
"Oh nooo, that's not true," Angela groaned, wringing her slim hands, tears glistening in her gray-green eyes.
A wave of self-pity flooded the girl at being adjudged a sinner when she had been just the reverse, a helpless, innocent victim.
"I'll soon find out. Come here to me, Angela !" her mother scolded, reaching for Angela's wrist.
Before the frightened girl could defend herself or guess what her mother intended, Mary Carruthers had pulled Angela over her knees as she seated herself on a nearby kitchen chair. In almost the same movement, she rucked up the blue cotton skirt.
"Ah, ha! Your panties are stained and wet, you sinful little slut! What did you do, let your nasty boyfriend take them down and play with you, you indecent little hussy?"
Angela made a futile effort to cover her still painfully throbbing bottom, burst into tears.
"Ohhhh, Mother, you know I don't have any b-boy friend," she sobbed dolefully, "it was in ch-church - "
"Oh, you outrageous little liar. Next you'll be telling me the good priest undressed you and played with you between the legs! Really, Angela, I have no patience with wicked lying little sinners. If you were honest enough to tell the truth, I'd be more likely to accept your story! Just for that, my girl, you're going to get a good spanking till you tell the truth!"
"Oh noooo, not a spanking, Mother. Please, I already had one. Don't take them off, Mother. Oh don't, ohhhhh !"
In vain the sobbing girl tried to fend off the undeserved chastisement. Mary Carruthers, with an impatient grimace, had already yanked the offending panties down to Angela's long thighs, exposing that adorably provocative, firm behind which was, this time, no longer as virginal as it had been when its lovely adolescent owner had hurried over to church to ease her troubled mind.
The marks of the priest's spanking, though slightly faded, were testimony to Angela's veracity. But Mary Carruthers, her left arm pulling the pleading, sobbing girl closer to her opulent body, had determined to view them only as further proof of Angela's carnal lapse from chastity and grace.
"Ah, no wonder you didn't want your panties down, you deceitful, sinful little slut!" Her mother harangued the unfortunate girl and, as Angela tried again to cover up her still smarting bottom with both hands, her blonde mother angrily pinned both wrists with her left hand. "Now, I shan't listen to any more of your lies, young lady! I am going to spank your wicked bottom till I'm convinced that what you tell me is the actual truth! Get ready, young lady!"
"Oh no, Mother! Don't spank me again - it still hurts from his - oww - ohhh. Mother, I beg of you - I'll be good - I didn't do anything wrong. Ahhrrrr - it wasn't my fault. I swear it. Oh don't spank so hard, it hurts so, Mother dear. I'll be good - ahh - ahh - oh no, no, please stop. Oh let up for a minute. I'll tell you - only please stop for a minute, Mother!"
Energetically Mary Carruthers had inflicted some twenty stinging slaps all over the wriggling, weaving, crimsoning naked bottom. Poor Angela, agonized by being immobilized so that she could not escape this unmerited second chastisement, was unable to remain stoic as the vehement smacks of her mother's hand increased the already hot stinging glow in her martyred bottom cheeks - and between them!
Sobbing woefully, her lovely face twisted and wet with tears, poor Angela again looked to observe her mother reaching for a worn slipper sole which lay on the kitchen table, grasping it and lifting it slowly above her already crimsoned, flinching naked bottom.
"Oh not with that! Not more spanking, pleeeeease, Mother!" she poignantly squealed, trying to jerk her captive wrists free so as to cover up her burning behind from this even more painful instrument.
"I'll teach you to carry tales, young lady! The idea, to be so blasphemous and have me thinking someone upright like dear Father Edmund would make improper advances to a rude little liar of twelve!" Mary Carruthers scolded Angela as she brought the sole down with a loud Whack! across the relatively spared base of poor Angela's left ass cheek.
"Oweeee ! Ohh it stings, it stings so, Mummy!"
Angela reverted to a maternal endearment she hadn't used since she was ten. Under the furiously burning torment of that cruel spank, which flattened her springy young elastic flesh and let it spring up in the most lascivious way, a bright red splotchy outline of the spanking instrument at once being inscribed on her warm bare skin.
"I mean it to sting, you wicked little hussy! Trying to blacken the good name of dear Father Edmund by covering up your nastiness with some stupid boy."
Mary Carruthers angrily rebuked Angela with a slap from the leather sole which danced from the outer edge of the girl's lower right buttock down over the base of the shuddering, inflamed twin hemisphere.
"Eeeyouuuahhh ! Ohhh, Mummy, pleeeease stop, I'll be good, I was lying, honest. Ooooh, it hurts, it hurts!" Angela shrilly and tearfully cried, her naked hips lunging madly upwards.
Instantly her mother released the girl's slim wrists to slide her left hand under Angela's loins. As she fell back sobbing and groaning on her mother's lap, Angela suddenly gasped and stiffened. Her tear-blurred eyes were enormous with shock. Her mother had slyly introduced her forefinger into Angela's moist twitching cuntal lips and was frigging them.
"Ohh - Mummy - wh - what are - owwwouuu, please, I can't stand it!"
Before she could protest this outrageous palpation of her virgin pussy, her mother had smacked Angela wickedly with the slipper sole, straight across the tops of her jerking, squirming naked hips.
Mary Carruthers moved her forefinger towards her daughter's clitoris. The instant she attacked that over-sensitized, rapidly burgeoning lodestone of Angela's adolescent emotions, the black-haired teenager writhed and began a jerky and rhythmic squirming over the maternal lap.
"Ah ha! You sinful, lying little slut you! To think of it, my own twelve-year-old daughter actually getting sexed up from a punishment spanking. It just shows how uncontrollable and naughty you've become, young lady!" Mary Carruthers continued to scold the sobbing almost nude girl bent over her lap, applying a quick little series of sharp crisp swats with the slipper all over the tossing, weaving, violently contracting naked asscheeks, which drew incoherent babbled pleas for mercy, pathetic avowals that Angela wasn't lying and that she would be ever so good if only her mother would stop.
Her face flushed and her ripe breasts heaving with undisguised excitement from her lubricious and sadistic handling of her lovely young daughter, Mary Carruthers again paused, pressing the slipper tightly over the sinuous shadowy crease that separated the flaming asscheeks - and perhaps subconsciously reminding the unfortunate young girl that right inside that intimate cleft, she had just sacrificed her first maidenhead of three.
Leaning towards the whimpering child, Angela's mother purred, "Are you still trying to tell me it was Father Edmund who gave you that first spanking, young lady?"
"Yes, Mummy dear. Oh, yes, I swear I'm telling you the truth!" Angela, hoping that this meant the end of her torment, exhaled tearfully.
"Well, then," her mother sniffed, "if he did spank your saucy bottom, young lady, it could only be because you gave him good reason, which means you have this good one coming, don't you now?"
Before the unfortunate girl could protest her mother's glib and unjust logic, Whackk, down came came the punitive leather sole again.
But, as if to solace her daughter, while at the same time teaching her the meaning of guilefully sadistic punishment, Mary Carruthers began to rub her daughter's stiffening little clit with rapid, rubbing touches of her fingertip, accompanying these with sly little prods and tweaks which sent the sweet pink nub disappearing into its hiding place only to bob out again more turgid than before. And these lascivious ticklings, together with the feverish heat of the spanking which now made poor Angela feel as if her naked behind was a single concentrated bed of hot coals, caused the nubile teenager to twist and arch her hips in the most scandalously lewd contortions, allowing her excited blonde mother to see the pink gape of her cunt.
"You are becoming unmanageable, young lady," her mother at last huskily declared, her narrowed blue eyes observing how Angela's scarlet-tinted hips weaved and jerked, rising and falling to the tempo of that insistently rasping fingertip. "I shall have to talk to your father about your naughtiness, Angela. Maybe he will want to send you away to a special school where the discipline is harsher than you've been accustomed to with the blessed sisters. Now, just to remind you never to lie again, my girl - there - and there - and there, will you stop making up wicked stories."
She punctuated this sermonizing discourse with emphatic, vigorous descents of the well worn slipper sole over the lower summits of Angela's already flaming buttocks, while at the same time speeding the friction of her hidden forefinger on the child's clitoris.
Despite her suffering, the girl was drawn inescapably towards climax. Her previous masturbations and then Father Edmund's frigging of her clit while taking the cherry of her maiden asshole had culminated in attuning her far beyond her tender years.
As Angela cried out hysterically under each sonorous spank, her lithe body threshed wildly about, and it seemed to her panting, excited blonde mother that those violently inflamed smooth buttocks were offering themselves more and more lewdly to the very next stroke of the vigorously down-sweeping sole. At the very last, the young girl threw back her head and exhaled a piercing, raucous cry, then sagged, her body jerking fitfully, bowing her head and bursting into frantic tears, a sign to Mary Carruthers that her beautiful young daughter had achieved a violent orgasm under the judiciously administered chastisement.
At once withdrawing her hand, she patted Angela's shoulder with it, and in a brusk voice, remarked, "Very well now, try to remember the lesson I tried to teach you, you wicked girl. Put your clothes back on. Go to your room. I'll bring your supper in on a tray after your father and I have had ours."
Broken by emotion, her bottom burning indescribably, Angela could only emit whimpering sobs as she frantically rubbed her swollen naked butt, heedless of her immodest exposure of that thickly fleeced virgin pussy and the tender insides of her twitching, lithe young thighs. At last, sniffling and rubbing her eyes with the back of one soft trembling hand, she very cautiously squatted down to slip her twisted panties completely off, since the thought of drawing them back up over her burning behind was intolerable. Then, still sniffling, her head bowed, she stumbled out of the kitchen to the safety of her own room.
Mary Carruthers uttered a long, shuddering sigh. Then, slyly, she half rose from her chair, pulled up her skirt and, sliding her right fore-finger under the waistband of her own white nylon panties, began to tickle the fleshy pink lips and the hardening bud of her well developed clit till, with a groan which she stifled with her other palm, she tasted release from the furious lustful emotions which her daughter's punishment had wakened in her own furiously ardent loins ...
Chapter 6
For a long moment, the raven-haired adolescent stood facing her bed, her hands industriously rubbing and soothing her furiously smarting bottom through the thin cotton skirt. Then, with a sob, she moved to the bathroom, turned on the light, and, lifting the skirt, turned herself sideways so that she could see in the mirror the reflection of Mary Carruthers' harsh penance added to what Father Edmund had so shockingly inflicted. She gasped at the blazing hue which left not an inch of her voluptuous young behind in its immaculate, satiny olive-hued state. The untouched glory of her bare thighs made the contrast even more spectacular.
Holding up her skirt with one hand, poor Angela soaked a washcloth under the cold-water tap with the other and carefully laved the swollen globes, wincing and squirming, unconsciously performing the most lubricious choreography which would have bewitched a connoisseur of femininity far more than the most flamboyant hula by an Hawaiian dancer.
When at last the angry throbbing seemed to have receded, Angela took a towel and patted herself dry, again wincing and gasping to discover how extraordinarily sensitive her naked behind had become. At the same time, she was shamefully aware of new, sensual waves of hot girlish tingling between her trembling bare legs. Her face turned as red as her bottom. This sensation was what she had experienced while watching her mother and Father Edmund on the bed, and then her own father with Betsy, and finally, despite the pain of her distended rectal channel, the naughtily thrilling feelings Father Edmund had roused counter to the pain by touching her little peepee button - for such, till now, was the naive term virginal Angela used to describe her own sensitive clitoris!
At last, when the pain seemed to have subsided, Angela put on a white cotton petticoat, her skirt and blouse, washed her face in cold water and dried it, and then warily opened the door of her room. Maybe Daddy would console her. He was sure to be resting after his overtime work which he'd brought home, and maybe this time he wouldn't have had too many drinks so that he could talk to her. After all, she knew she had always been his very-special favorite. Even though she was an only child, it had always been definite that Daddy seemed to treat her much nicer than Mother did - certainly Daddy had never spanked her.
Maybe, too, she could feel him out and find out what was happening. Why was it that Father Edmund was coming to visit Mother and had done that awful thing earlier today. And also why Daddy was being such close friends and doing naughty things with her own girlfriend Betsy.
Hurrying down the hall and fervently hoping that her mother wouldn't take it into her head to come looking for her or to go see Daddy, Angela made her way to the room where her father did his advertising work. The door was closed, so she tapped softly. There wasn't any answer at first. Her heart beating faster and looking nervously down the hall in the direction of the kitchen, she knocked a little louder.
The door was flung open and Fred Carruthers stood scowling, a glass of bourbon in one hand, a cigarette in the other, wearing a pair of slacks, slippers and an undershirt.
"Angie ... what's the matter, baby? Come on in. I know, you wanted to visit your old dad, is that right?"
"Y-yes, Daddy." Angela quavered.
She moved inside the room and he promptly closed the door, took a puff at his cigarette and eyed her speculatively, a little grin curving his lips.
"C-can I talk to you, if - if I'm not bothering you, Daddy?"
"Sure, my little girl can always talk to her old father. What's bothering you, baby?"
In the room, there was a couch, a table on which a typewriter and stacks of paper and proof galleys were placed, a chair and a bookcase. Fred Carruthers sat down on the couch and crooked his finger at the flushed girl, who lowered her eyes meekly and moved obediently towards him.
"Sit down right here, baby. Now, what's worrying you?"
Angela was about to sit down when the sudden hot discomfort of the spanking was instantly recalled to her just as she prepared to lower herself beside her father. She blushed, straightened and stammered, "D-Daddy, Mommy spanked me just now, because I told her what happened to me in church."
"You make me uncomfortable standing there like that, baby," her father grinned. "Go bring me that glass from the table, that's a good girl. So Mary spanked you, hm?"
"Yes, sir."
Angela moved to the table, noticed that the glass was half-filled and that it smelled like whiskey. She made a covert little face as she handed it to him. Fred Carruthers lifted the glass in acknowledgement, then took a man-sized swig.
"Ahh, that's good! Now, what did happen in church? And why should your mother spank you for going there?"
"Because of what I told her about what Father Edmund did, Daddy. And I'm s-sort of mixed up about what's happening here the last few days," Angela blurted, her face reddening even more as she kept her eyes demurely on the floor.
"So what did Father Edmund do that bothered you so much, honey?"
He nearly emptied the glass, then set it down on the floor. He looked speculatively up at her with a funny little grin.
"M-Mother said I lied about it, but I didn't, honest I didn't, Daddy," she said defensively, still not able to look up at him. "He spanked me, too, and then - then he did something to me."
"Oh come on, honey. That's a tall story and you don't expect me to believe it!"
"Daddy, it's true, honest. Only I don't want to get Father Edmund into trouble. After I'd confessed, he came out of the booth and - and made me come into the sacristy. Then he said I was very n-naughty - and he spanked me, honest."
Angela was ready to cry. She had never looked more delicious, her charming face crimson, her long lashes fluttering, her nostrils dilating and her firm young breasts rising and falling erratically against her middy blouse.
Her father reached out suddenly, caught her by the wrist and pulled her down on his lap. Angela uttered a squeal of discomfort and squirmed fretfully as the sudden pressure of her tender bottom against his sinewy thighs rekindled all the heat of her mother's chastisement.
"Stay still, baby, or I'll spank you myself," her father muttered thickly in her ear. "Put your arm round my neck - that's a good girl. Now then, tell your old father all about it. We can keep a secret, just the two of us, can't we, Angie sweetheart?"
His sudden affection and the sound of sympathy in his voice persuaded the distraught and embarrassed young virgin to confide in her father.
In a low, faltering voice, Angela began, "He - he said I - I'd been very naughty and had to do penance. And then he put me over his lap and pulled up my s-skirt and took down my panties and spanked me, Daddy. And after that, he - he did something to me. It was awfully wicked, but I didn't know what to do. Please, Daddy, I'm so scared, and Mommy's mad at me."
"He must have had a reason for saying you were naughty, baby. What did you confess to him?"
"Oh, D-Daddy," Angela groaned, squirming uneasily on his lap.
"I have to know, honey, before I can say that he didn't have a right to treat my little girl that way. Come on, just tell your old dad," he urged.
His arm was round her waist, his other hand was patting her bare knee. He had somehow managed to ruck up her cotton skirt just enough to expose an inch or two of warm, satiny thigh.
"All I told him was - was what I'd seen, Daddy. And that I-I - well, I did something I shouldn't have, when I saw it. That's all, honest," she managed after a hesitant pause.
His right hand slipped a little higher along her bare thigh, gently stroking and pinching the vibrant young, bare flesh. Angela squirmed again, put a hand over his, wanting to pull his hand away but without being bold enough. After all, it was her own father, and she had turned to him in desperation for help in her agonizing quandry.
"Well now, pet, just what was it you did see that made Father Edmund so angry he had to spank my pretty girl?" Fred Carruthers jovially demanded, his voice was an insinuating whisper into Angela's dainty ear.
As his arm tightened possessively round her slim waist, his right hand moved still farther under her skirt, to about the middle of her springy-flesh.
The brunette squirmed again, her face redder than ever, glancing almost supplicatingly at his hidden hand under her thin skirt. Then she stammered, "I saw him with a g-grownup woman, Daddy. In - in bed - " Angela had, at the last moment, resolved not to tell him the identity of that woman, and she had also determined not to admit that she had also seen her father with Betsy.
One can conjecture the shocked surprise she felt when, with a lewd chuckle, his right hand rising even higher along her bare thigh, Fred Carruthers muttered, "You mean, you saw Father Edmund with your mother, isn't that right, baby doll?"
"Ohh Daddy - I didn't mean that. I mean, I - ohhh please - Daddy - I-I haven't got any p-panties on. Please, your hand - it - please, Daddy - " she gasped.
She tried to wriggle free of his hold, for by now his roving hand had reached the velvety inside of her left thigh only a few inches away from the most cherished spot of all.
"No panties, Angie girl? That's just fine. Remember the other afternoon, I told you your Mommy and I had a deal? Well, you're getting to be a big girl now, and you're old enough to know what goes on in life, not just what the good sisters tell you in class. Understand me, baby?"
"Daddy - your hand - please - you shouldn't touch me OH NOT THERE, DADDY!"
With a wail, Angela fairly scrambled off her father's lap. Just then he poked a fingertip into the silky black bush of her maiden cunthole.
"Now you come back here on my lap, you naughty girl, or I'll spank you good and hard," Fred Carruthers threatened, scowling at the blushing teenager as she faced him, her face scarlet to forehead and ears from the furious embarrassment of his incestuous caress.
"Oh Daddy!" She burst into tears, crushed by the injustice of that threat. "Mother already did that to me, and I came here to ask you to help me and explain why all of a sudden I'm being punished for nothing, all because I happened to see things that weren't my fault at all. Please, Daddy, don't be mad at me."
"I will be, young lady, unless you get right back here on my lap!"
Sniffling and more confused than ever, lovely, blushing Angela hesitantly returned to the edge of the bed. Her father seized her and pulled her down on his lap, his arm curving round her waist to hold her snugly to him. Again his right hand returned to her bare dimpled knee, sliding under the skirt and at once stroking the middle of her warm, palpitating bare thigh.
"Please don't," she whispered, dying of shame.
"It's time you got over some of your silly little girl ideas, honey," he said gruffly, his penis already throbbing violently at the feel of her bottom squirming over his lap. Once again the contact of her well-spanked buttocks - protected by only the thin skirt - against his thighs made her wince at the excruciating sensitivity it aroused. "Now I want you to kiss me nice and sweet right on the mouth because you're my girl!"
Timidly, her face again flooding with hot crimson, Angela passively offered her mouth. Fred Carruthers slid his left arm up to her shoulders to press her forward as his mouth hungrily took hers. His right hand delved into the thick bush of her virgin cunt. His fingertips tickling the fleshy soft lips. Angela's eyes widened enormously, a look of alarm and distress contorted her exquisitely piquant face. She tried to wriggle off his lap again, but his left arm pinned her tightly as his tongue now pried between her trembling lips and tasted her girlish nectar in a long, lecherous French kiss.
"Mmmmmm - D-Daddy - d-don't - you m-mustn't." she breathed, completely scandalized by now.
Her hands rushed to her skirt to try to grasp his wrist under it and prevent his further assault on her intimate parts, but his fingers were too well planted, and his forefinger, moreover, had found the lodestone of her maiden clitoris and was rubbing it.
"N oooo ! Ohh please, Daddy - w-why are you doing such awful things to me?" she moaned, frantically clutching his wrist with both hands and trying to pull it back from its hiding place under the thin cotton skirt.
"What a sweet little pussy you've got, baby," he said thickly.
His face was florid with lust and again he silenced her timid outcry by gluing his mouth to hers and forcing his tongue deeply inside, slushing it about to rasp against her own dainty pink membrane.
Angela was beside herself, arching and weaving her hips, desperately trying to slip off his lap, but unable to. Her nostrils flaring and shrinking, Angela clenched her long supple thighs together with all her young strength in a supreme effort to prevent his salacious manipulation. But it was in vain. His fingertip was rolling and rubbing her clit back and forth. Furious waves of tingling sensuality started to invade the young girl's maiden loins, already so wildly stimulated by Father Edmund's conquest of her nether maidenhead and her mother's burning chastisement. Sobbing softly, she could only endure her father's will and pray that he would at last release her.
But Fred Carruthers, reveling in the feel of her moistening, soft young cuntal lips, their excited palpitation and the discernible stiffening of the button he was tweaking and frictioning with a quicker pace now, had no intention of sparing Angela this further maiden martyrdom. His penis was violently turgid by this time, and each wriggling movement of her smarting bottom over his lap forced her to be aware of his powerful virility by continuous prodding.
She closed her eyes. Her young, firm breasts rose and fell and long spasms flexed through her clenched, shuddering thighs as she fought with all her might to prevent the shameful surrender to his artful frigging. Her fingers still dug into his wrists through her skirt, but made no further attempt to drag them away. It was as if she had resigned herself, cowed to this mortifying surrender by her dread of another spanking following so swiftly after her mother's painful punishment.
Fred Carruthers, rampant with rut, arched himself to glory in the feeling of his stiff ramrod's prodding Angela's jouncy behind. At the same time he kissed her greedily and again slipped his tongue between her lips. His left arm lowered and stealthily his hand cupped the outer edge of Angela's left breast. Her gray-green eyes opened to stare reproachfully at him. Her involuntary movement allowed his foraging forefinger to probe as far as it could go into her tender virgin vulva till he felt the definitive barrier of her cherry. Angela gasped and winced as her daddy jabbed tentatively at it, testing its resilience, and then again returned just the tip of that wandering digit to frig her burgeoning clit with quick little proddings that made Angela writhe and gasp as the waves of licentious attunement began to sweep through her well developed young body.
Suddenly, despite all her feverish attempts to hold back against the treacherous inroads of this stimulation, Angela's lithe body stiffened, jerked, and her legs kicked wildly to and fro as her bottom weaved and ground and twisted all over his lap.
With a moaning "Ohh, D - Daddy - ohh Lordie - ooooh !" she felt her insides churn and the black wave of sweet release roll over her.
Instinctively, her arms flung round her father's shoulders to steady herself from fainting and falling. She bowed her head against his chest and exhaled her girlish climax.
"Ah ha!" Fred Carruthers gloatingly muttered, his left hand lowering to squeeze and caress her jouncy buttocks through the thin skirt. "Father Edmund was right to make you do penance, you naughty little bitch you! At your age, to act so sexy with your old father! I'm ashamed of you, young lady! I think you've earned yourself a good, sound tanning with my belt on your bare bottom!"
"Oh nooooo ! Oh don't spank me any more, Daddy. I couldn't stand it, it still hurts from Mommy!" she cried out in despair, regarding him with big teary eyes, her lips trembling and her beautiful young breasts wildly rising and falling in the aftermath of her involuntary orgasm which his cleverly frigging finger had brought about.
"I'll let you off only on one condition, young lady," he said sternly, patting her bottom and giving her a lecherous smirk. "Otherwise, you can just get over my lap and pull your skirt up high as you can get it."
"Oh, anything, Daddy. I'll do anything if you only won't spank me more," she groaned.
"All right. I'm going to lie down. I want you to get on the bed and kneel before me, Angela," he ordered.
Suiting action to word, Fred Carruthers swung himself onto the bed on his back, tugged the zipper on his slacks and his long, angrily reddened penis shot out in all its full erection, the lips puckering with the pentup flow of gismic outpouring. Angela's eyes were hypnotically fixed on that object which she had already seen in Betsy's bedroom. She put a trembling hand to her gaping mouth to suppress the horrified, stifled cry drawn to her lips by such an obscene exhibition.
"I said to kneel beside me, young lady. Or do I have to use my belt after all?" he impatiently demanded.
With a fretful whimper of despair, the blushing, young brunette sank to her knees before him, her eyes still riveted to his bulging penis.
"Now, As I told you before, young lady," he said lazily, his pulse pounding as he stared hungrily at the trembling girl. "You're old enough to act like a woman. And what just happened to you when I tickled you with my finger, you naughty little bitch, is proof of that. So don't start trying to beg off, or your bottom will be soundly thrashed till you can't sit down for a month, do you understand?"
"Y-yes, Daddy. Oh why are you so mean to me?" she whimpered.
"Stop that sort of talk. I told you! Now do you see this, Angela?"
"Y-yes - " Her voice was so faint he could hardly hear it.
"Come here, bend your head down, take hold of it with your soft little fingers, and give the nice hard red tip a tender loving kiss as a dutiful, obedient daughter should," was his next order.
"OHHHH ! OHH DADDY, YOU CAN'T M ... M ... MEAN THAT!"
"Then I'll just slip my belt out of my slacks here, and you can get your disobedient bottom ready for swats, Angela," he growled, putting a hand to the black leather belt.
With a wail of fear and shame, poor blushing Angela at once crawled to her father. Her trembling little fingers gingerly circled his throbbing, turgid shaft, and her head bowed down slowly over the proffered glans, bulbous and angrily swollen.
"Kiss it!" he hissed.
Closing her eyes, shuddering with nausea and shame, the young girl slowly obeyed. Her lips brushed the tip of his cockhead and Fred Carruthers groaned with delight at the sweet torment that chaste, unwilling kiss shot through his groin, nearly making him shoot his seething spunk.
"Mmmmm, you darling, that's the way. Now keep kissing it and open your lips a little and just take the tip inside, Angie baby," he instructed.
"Oh, Daddy, don't make me do an awful thing like t-that!" the shocked young girl stammered, blushing almost all the way down to her panting young breasts.
"Do you want me to call your mother in here and hold you while I thrash your naughty behind, Angela?" he scolded.
"Oh nooo !" she sobbed.
Conquering her revulsion and despairing shame, Angela bowed down her head and forced herself to apply a longer, noisier kiss on the throbbing tip of her father's cockhead.
"Daddy!" She tried a last time to talk him out of forcing her to this abomination. "What if Mommy comes in. She - she'll whip me hard if she catches me doing this to you. Oh, please don't make me do it any more. Please, Daddy dear!"
"We'll both whip you good if you don't do it right now, that's all I'm telling you, Angie," Fred Carruthers panted, half-sitting up so he could grip the back of Angela's soft neck with both hands to keep her kneeling before his upright, aching cock. "Now you just take it in your mouth and suck at it, Angie, the way you would a lollypop, young lady! Do it unless you want the belt on your bare seat!"
Angela's mind was staggered by the enormity of what her own father was making her do. She remembered that it was exactly what her girlfriend Betsy had been doing to him. Yet the thought of a belt thrashing on her still sore bottom was even more dreadful, and Angela's moral code, acquired out of parental strictness and the teachings of her dutiful churchgoing, began to waver.
With a helpless sob, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut as if to pretend that it was not she who was doing it. Her trembling lips-parted. She groped for his cockhead with them till she felt it press against her teeth. With a whimper she surrendered, opened her lips still more and felt the spearpoint of his turgid weapon enter the sweet virgin sanctuary of her mouth ... and thus lost her second maidenhead within the single span of a day!
"Ahhh, that's nice, darling. Now do it slow and easy," her father panted, spreading his thighs as far apart as he could to intensify the thrilling lustful sensations of watching her obey and feeling her soft moist lips cling to the bulging tip of his prick. "Suck, sweetheart. Suck so I can hear you do it, or I'll use my belt. I swear I will, Angie girl. As hard as I can!"
With that Damoclean threat hanging over her quivering, still throbbing posterior, Angela cast aside her scruples and applied a noisy, slushing, sucking kiss to her father's cockhead. She gagged and jerked away, but his fingers bit into her neck to compel obedience as he urged, in a thickened, shuddering voice, "Oh no you don't. You tricky little bitch, you just keep sucking away if you know what's good for you !"
Choking and gasping, unused to the taste or size of the noxious tidbit inside her trembling and no longer virginal mouth, the girl did her best to avert more physical suffering for her still smarting bottom. The way she squirmed on her bare knees as she crouched before her father indicated not only moral anguish but also continued discomfort from the slightest movement of her bewitchingly contoured posterior. Even the thin skirt kept reminding Angela of her mother's unmerited punishment. As her muscles contracted in this demeaning posture, the sensitivity and tingling in her anus served to recall the shocking usage Father Edmund had made of that dainty narrow channel.
"Now start rubbing your cute little tongue over my prick, Angie girl," she heard her father's hoarse, lust-thickened voice decree.
At the same time, his fingers dug into the tender back of her neck, imparting the need for instant compliance. With a long sigh of despair, poor Angela rasped her pink tongue along one side of the swollen glans and along the groove, drawing an immediate groan of ecstasy from her enchanted father. To give himself the glorious feeling of being a sultan commanding a helpless virgin slavegirl, he released her neck but only to take her earlobes between thumbs and forefingers and thus force her head well down over his turgid, aching prick, also forcing her with the sudden jerk of his fingers made to take even more of his swollen cock inside her gagging mouth. Her eyes rolled wildly, her nostrils flickered and dilated as she fought for breath, and the singular taste of her father's prick made her stomach gurgle in protest - a protest she dared not make more evident.
Fortunately for her waning stamina before all these ordeals which crowded in on her virginal flesh and spirit in the short span of a few hours, the excitement she was causing Fred Carruthers proved too much for his self control. Suddenly, with a bellow of lust, he cried out, "Get ready and swallow me down, you sweet bitch - nowwwww !" and launched a bubbling torrent of hot sticky spunk into her mouth.
Choking frantically, Angela managed to swallow about half of it down before he sensed her reluctance.
"Suck it all up, lick it clean and swallow every drop or you'll get that belting, Angie baby!"
Groaning and trembling, squirming restlessly about on her knees, the helpless brunette teenager managed to obey, and at last he released her, sinking back on the bed with a delighted sigh of fulfillment.
"Okay, honey, you did fine for a first time. Now go to your room. Mother'll bring you your supper on a tray."
Her face scarlet, averted from him - for she did not dare look at his now drooping, greasied prick sticking out of the fly of his slacks. Angela Carruthers stumbled out of the room and made her way back to her own, closing the door. Then she flung herself on her bed and burst into heartfelt tears of poignant woe, sure that she was damned forever, forsaken not only by her own father confessor - and betrayed by him so cruelly - but also by her own parents ...
Chapter 7
Half an hour later, Angela languidly opened the door and blushed hotly to see her mother carrying a supper tray, which the latter set down on the girl's worktable. As she was about to leave, Mary Carruthers looked back and said coldly, "When you've finished, set the tray outside and then take a bath and go to bed."
"Yes, Mother. Oh please, Mother - " Angela faltered, wanting to reveal her unhappiness and beg her mother's forgiveness.
But her mother went out, closing the door behind her without another word.
Angela sat down with tears welling in her gray-green eyes and began to eat. Her healthy, voluptuous young body, however, demanded its due and she ate ravenously in spite of her despairing frame of mind. Obediently, when she had finished, she set the tray on the floor outside, then closed her door, took off the skirt, blouse, bobbysocks and loafers and took a shower. She energetically soaped her thighs and belly and her firm, tilting breasts. But she was cautious not to rub her still smarting ass-cheeks too hard.
When she finished she looked back at herself in the mirror. She blushed to see that the faint pink hue left by the hard spanking still persisted. It served to remind Angela of her two unjust chastisements in a single day and the wicked things she had been forced to do. It seemed to her that whatever her faults, she had been more than thoroughly punished, but she still could not comprehend why her own father and mother had turned against her and taken Father Edmund's part. Perhaps she ought to have actually told them what it was he had done to her after he had heard her confession, but the tradition of respect for her own priest was so strong that she knew she couldn't have dared to do that. Maybe if she got a chance to see Betsy alone, her chum might have some explanation of why all this was happening to her ...
When she had finished the shower, Angela put on a yellow cotton shortie nightie which descended to the middle of her long, sleek, satiny thighs. Then, feeling very woebegone, she crawled into bed and turned out the little lamp beside it. It was earlier than she had gone to bed since she was ten, but her mother's explicit order had left the menacing hint of further spanking if she disobeyed. At last, her mind jumbled by the inexplicable things that had been happening to her and not finding a solution to her countless questions, Angela finally fell asleep - an enchanting picture of forlorn innocence, her black hair tumbled over one soft, tearstained cheek, lying or. her left side, an arm flung out as if in supplication.
But it was not a dreamless sleep. Somehow, Angela found herself walking down a dark narrow street faced on each side by empty buildings whose black windows stared down at her. She heard herself calling out for her father to come guide her. Out of nowhere, a black-robed figure appeared, his face in shadows, and took her by the wrist and led her slowly into one of the deserted buildings ...
Angela sat up, perspiring, her heart pounding wildly from the nightmare. Slowly, she got out of bed and went to the bathroom for a drink of water. Her throat felt dry and her head throbbed with a headache from the fright the strange dream had caused. Then, out of an impulse she couldn't explain, she walked into her closet. The mumble of voices came faintly to her. With a gasp, she very carefully dislodged the chunk of plaster and peered through the hole in the wall into her mother's bedroom.
Angela's eyes widened and she came fully awake. Father Edmund in his black robe was seated in a chair and, on the bed, their backs to her, sat her father and mother. Her father had on just his bathrobe and slippers and her mother wore a black lace-trimmed satin slip. Her father's arm was tightly round her waist and his other hand was cupping one of her full breasts.
"Did she tell you anything, my dear Mary?" she heard Father Edmund ask.
Mary Carruthers giggled.
"She didn't dare tell everything, Father. Oh, you should have seen that cute little bitch try to weasel out of the spanking I gave her bare hind end! She said you took her into the sacristy and did things to her, Father. Isn't that killing?"
"A most delightful and naive child, your daughter." The priest chuckled softly. "But her body is that of a woman, as I'm sure you both know already."
"That it surely is, Father." Fred Carruthers spoke up, winking at his wife and putting his free hand in her lap to press against the plump mound of her pussy. "I think this hurry-up course in, shall we say, sexual education is paying dividends. It was right clever of you to think of it, Father Edmund."
"Not at all. It's certain to pay dividends for all of us, if we keep her off guard and constantly faced with new penances. Most refreshing of all is her absolutely unspoiled innocence. Her mind, you see, is so sheltered that these things come as a great shock which she can hardly accept or believe, and each new time they occur to her will make her react that much more delightfully."
"Then you think, Father dear," Mary Carruthers spoke up eagerly, "that if Fred and I make her do naughty things against all her previous teaching, she'll have to obey because she's been brought up to be an obedient daughter ?"
"Oh to be sure. And she will go on confessing and struggling with herself at her own surprising reactions each new experience. You see, my daughter, this struggle will enable all of us to control her and shape her into servicing our desires. Of course I needn't remind you again of the vigilance we must all show in her regard. That is why I urged you to take her best friend Betsy into your confidence, Fred."
"Yes indeed, Father." Fred Carruthers grinned lecherously. "I'm sure glad I took your advice. That sexy little redhead is even livelier than Angie when it comes to making a man get hot nuts - if you'll pardon the vulgar expression, Father."
"I must investigate that child's proclivities myself, I'm thinking," the priest smiled.
Suddenly he sat erect in the chair, and put a finger to his lips.
Angela, who had heard all this with growing disbelief, had suddenly tried to put the chunk of plaster back into place, only to drop it with a noisy thud on the closet floor.
"What is it, Father?" Mary Carruthers asked, arching her plucked eyebrows.
The black-robed priest had put his finger to his lips, and now, tapping them, shook his head.
"Just a minute, I want to see something." He moved closer to the bedroom wall. "Ah, I begin to understand a good many things. Would you look at this?"
Fred Carruthers followed the priest to the wall, and then swore under his breath.
"Why the little bitch! So that's how she saw you and Mary, is it now!"
"Exactly, my son. I think we had better pay her a little visit."
Angela had scurried back to bed and pulled the covers up to her neck, trying to pretend that she was fast asleep. The door was flung open and Mary Carruthers led the way, with Fred and the priest behind her.
"Sleeping, is it!" Fred Carruthers sniffed. "Wake her up, and we'll soon get to the bottom of things!"
"With a hairbrush this time," Mary vowed grimly as she bent to the bed in the darkness. "Well, Fred, turn on the light. Use your brains!"
"Gently, my daughter, we must all be calm," Father Edmund sanctimoniously urged.
The table lamp was turned on, and Angela lay on her left side, eyes closed, holding her breath. Mary Carruthers looked back at her husband and the priest, then drew back her right hand and delivered a mighty swat against the delectable posterior shaped out by the covers which Angela had drawn tightly up against herself.
"Owww !" the teenager squealed, rolled over, and slipped out of bed, rubbing her bottom and looking scared and tearful.
"Take a look in the closet, Fred," Mary Carruthers commanded.
"Look at this!" her father exclaimed, holding up the telltale chunk of plaster. "There's a big peephole in there, and she must have seen everything the afternoon you called, Father!"
"Come along with me, young lady," Mary Carruthers righteously ordered as she urged her unhappy daughter with several stinging, forward-driving slaps of her right palm against the tender bottom which the thin nightie hardly protected.
"Owww, oh please, Mother. I'm going, I'm g-going - oww ! It hurts!" Angela sobbed, as her mother led her into the adjoining bedroom.
"Now then, Angela, you're going to tell the truth for a change," her mother declared as the priest and her father faced the trembling girl.
With this, she lofted the nightie to bare the still vividly reddened oval buttocks, and, applied two vigorous spanks, one to the ripest curve of each velvety buttock.
"Owww! Oh please don't spank me any more, Mother!" Angela wailed, trying to twist loose.
Her mother dragged the nightie over the girl's head to blindfold her. Angela cried out as she felt the front of her nubile young body exposed to both her father and the priest. She tried to pull the nightie down.
"Hold her hands, Fred," Mary Carruthers sharply ordered.
He at once complied.
Mary Carruthers inflicted half a dozen noisy slaps on Angela's weaving, wriggling naked behind.
"Tell the truth! Were you spying on us through that hole in the closet? Answer me, young lady, or I'll have your father use his belt! Answer me!"
"Ahrrr - oww - yes - yes. I did look through there, but I couldn't help it. Please stop, Mommy!" Angela pleaded, trying to swerve this way and that, in order to avoid the barrage of stinging slaps which restored all the original fires of her earlier spankings to her satiny bare behind.
"A shocking admission, my misguided daughter." Father Edmund approached the almost naked young sufferer, his eyes detailing the heaving turrets of her pear shaped titties, the sweet dimpled niche of her bellybutton, and the thick silky black bush which marked her bewitching young maiden cunthole. "To spy is a detestable practice, my child, and it calls for severe penance."
"A good sound thrashing, Father?" Mary Carruthers eagerly proposed.
"No, my dear daughter. As you can tell, she has already been punished in that childish way. But since she aspires to learn what her betters and elders are about, it is only fitting that she be initiated into all the mysteries. Now, as you know, I was the first to introduce her to the devious pleasure of gluteal penetration. There remains, I should say, the oral and pelvic areas - "
"Er - not quite, Father," Fred Carruthers broke in with an apologetic cough. "You see, just before supper, Angela learned how to use that talkative mouth of hers."
"A pity. But then, she still has her primal purity."
"That's true, Father." Fred Carruthers nodded, winking at his wife, who continued to keep hold of Angela, her other hand patting the cringing bare seat of the sniffling and now really terrified young girl, while her father grasped her wrists in front of her and greedily stared at her bared titties, belly and cunt. The nightie remaining draped over her tearful, scarlet face as an effective blindfold.
"Then I think it would be quite appropriate for the child's dear mother to prepare her for the supreme mystery," the priest gently suggested.
"Father!" Mary Carruthers blushed and looked down, with a girlish little giggle.
"Go on, Mary, I'm dying to watch you at work," her husband muttered. "Here, I'll get Angie ready - off comes the nightie so we can all see our sweet girl ready for her first night of love!"
Angela at once clapped both hands over her pussy and huddled there, tears glistening in her eyes and staring aghast at the trio who surrounded her.
"What are you going to do to me? Honest, I didn't mean to spy - the plaster fell out and - "
"Forget the plaster, my child. You have come of an age when you are to become a woman. I know, inside your mind are all sorts of questions and you are afraid to ask for answers. But from now on, I promise you, all will be made clear to you. Let your mother instruct you, my child," Father Edmund said soothingly.
"You do what I say, young lady, or I'll let Father Edmund whip you himself," her mother threatened.
The naked young girl could only throw herself on their tender mercies.
"D-don't spank me any more, I'll do whatever you want, Mother," she sniffled.
"Now that's a good girl. All right, go lie down on the bed, dear," Mary Carruthers purred as she began to pull off the black satin slip.
Angela's mother stood naked except for a white satin-elastic garterbelt with tabs that hooked to the tops of beige nylons. Her sandals, she kicked off and, preening herself before the two excited male witnesses, ran her hands appraisingly down her body. Her soft pink skin was warm and youthful. Her figure, though lush, was still capable of arousing desire, as was at once indicated by the glitter in the eyes of both the priest and her husband, as well as the sudden surging of their organs. Then, with a soft little laugh, she moved to the bed, clambered onto it and, turning on her left side towards the trembling naked teenager, who still kept one hand tightly pressed against her pussy and used the other arm to shield her rapidly surging breasts, murmured, "Now, Angela dear, Mommy forgives you. Be nice and turn over and kiss me and promise to be a very good girl now."
"Oh, Mommy," Angela whispered, her eyes tightly closed, her thighs instinctively clenching, "not - not in front of Daddy and - and Father Edmund. Please, Mummy!"
"Obedience to one's parents is the sure way to the kingdom of heaven, my child," the priest said.
His face flushed and his eyes glowed and narrowed as he studied the two contrastingly enticing naked females on the wide bed.
"Do you want your father to take his belt to you and Father Edmund too, Miss?" Mary Carruthers sharply whispered back. "Now you just roll over and face me and behave!"
There was no help for it. With a tremulous sigh, the teenager docilely complied, though she kept one soft trembling hand protectively clamped over her one remaining maidenhead. Her blushes swept to her temples and ears as she felt her mother's hands cup both her titties and squeeze them lovingly.
"What darling tits," the opulent blonde matron huskily murmured. "If I were a man, I'd eat you up, Angela love! Now put your arms round me and give me a nice, sweet, obedient kiss to show Father Edmund what a well behaved girl can do. Quickly now, no sulking or arguments, young lady!"
Remembering all too well the stinging fury of the leather sole against her still tender bottom, Angela falteringly obeyed. Her left arm tentatively circled her mother's waist as she proffered her soft little mouth. Keeping her eyes shut she kept her right hand clamped over the thick black fronds of her bush.
Mary Carruthers sighed sensually as her mouth fused with Angela's. Edging forward, she mashed her round, lush titties against her daughter's firm satiny pears. Her plump thighs merged against the lithe slim satiny columns of Angela's flexing, tightened thighs and her hands moved to cup the girl's titties and squeeze them lasciviously. Her thumbpads prodded Angela's coral nipples till they began to turgify and palpitate with tumescent awakening. Feverishly, the naked young captive moaned, "Ohh, Mommy, I-I'm so ashamed. Don't let them watch. Please, Mommy, please."
But Mary Carruthers was imbued by the fierce lust of a perverse incestuous excitement. Ignoring her daughter's last poignant appeal to spare her final virginity she said, "Shut up and kiss me nice, Angie, or I swear I'll spank your bottom raw."
Fitfully shivering at the warm concupiscent feel of her mother's naked body against her own, poor Angela comprehended the harsh reality which uprooted all her past scruples and swept aside even conscience. The menace of physical suffering overcame her innate chastity. With a sob, she abandoned herself. Her mouth opened to accept Mary Carruther's moist hot, prolonged kiss and she gasped as she felt her mother's tongue dart expertly inside. Her right hand moved around to squeeze the girl's flinching, still reddened bottom. Her left hand kneaded one firm tittie. Mary Carruthers began to woo Angela as if they were both dedicated lesbians.
"What a beautiful sight, to see such tender concord between mother and daughter, my son," Father Edmund muttered to Angela's father, who had stealthily sneaked his right hand inside his bathrobe and was delicately frigging himself, taking the swollen head of his prick between thumb and forefinger and performing a gently "milking" action back and forth which made the dark, angry veins knot and bulge against the tautly drawn skin of his erect shaft as if ready to burst through.
Mary Carruthers' hand clamped over the huddling oval buttocks of the shivering naked brunette, right over the sinuous cleft which led the way to that first hymen which had fallen sacrifice to Father Edmund's potent manhood. Her left hand glided over the girl's belly, only to encounter the trembling little hand clamped so despairingly tight against Angela's apprehensive quim.
"Take that hand away, young lady, and feel my tittie," she hissed into the girl's ear. "Do what I tell you to, or you'll be sorry!"
"Oh, M-Mommy, I feel so ashamed," Angela groaned, tears running down her scarlet cheeks.
Timidly she lifted her shielding hand to her mother's swelling ripe-round tittie and patted and caressed it.
"Mmm, that's right, dear. Now just do what your mother says, and you'll be fine," Angela's mother coaxed. Her voice was trembling with excitement as, pressing her palm hard against Angela's quaking bottom, Mrs. Carruthers began to frig Angela's soft, pink cuntal lips with her left forefinger.
At the first sly rub of her mother's fingertip against the twitching petals of her cunt lips, Angela's naked body jerked convulsively, her eyelids fluttered open. With a choked, horrified, incredulous "M-Mommy - ohhhhh - " she announced her awareness of the salacious maternal caress.
But her mother's palm, bridging the quaking hillocks of her tender behind, pressed even harder as Mary Carruthers wantonly ground herself against the olive-sheened nakedness that had emerged from her own ardent womb. Stifling Angela's new outcry with a sucking, hot, eager kiss, Angela's mother began to tickle the rims of Angela's cuntal lips round and round till at last she attacked the budding clit and rolled and pressed it back down into that soft virgin pussyflesh.
Wildly conflicting sensations seethed through the teenager's flesh. Her breath quickened and she felt her mother's tongue again delve between her parted, trembling lips, she clutched both her mother's heaving round lush titties as a drowning man clutches at a straw for safety and surrendered herself to the multiple lewd urges that began to permeate her young flesh. Angela's hips jerked spasmodically as her mother's finger, with scienced feminine understanding, plied her clit with quick little touches and rubbings. As the two men watched, it seemed as if Angela's lithe bare hips were jerkily executing a kind of coital rhythm. The front of Father Edmund's black robe was obscenely thrust out at the region of his crotch, and Fred Carruthers had by now opened the folds of his bathrobe to give his agitated, swollen prick free rein as his left hand now cupped the gnarled hairy sacks of his testicles and stimulated him to the monumental moment which lay ahead and to which all these preliminary scenes had been but artfully contrived prelude.
Beside herself from the cumulating wave on wave of hot thrilling lasciviousness that surged through her thighs and loins, Angela had twisted her scarlet, contorted face away from her mother's and had begun to gasp out, "Ohhhahh - M-Mommy - oooh - ahhh - ooohh, Mommy d-dear, ohh, ahhh !" in the most tremulous and vibrant tones, music which stirred the excited male onlookers to furious anticipation.
"Now put your hand on my pussy and tickle me the same way, honey," Mary Carruthers hissed into the trembling naked girl's ear.
Her forefinger flattened the throbbing nodule of Angela's wakened, tingling clit and her other forefinger slyly slipped into the shadowy groove between her daughter's well spanked bottom globes.
Angela moaned and squirmed, but her mother's finger nudged the puckering dainty pink lips of her asshole, making her jerk forward till her titties flattened against Mary Carruthers' heaving round breasts. Her skin was prickled and rippled by constant neural fluxions, the hot waves of sensuality spreading throughout her wakened young nervous system. Angela's left hand fondled one of those maternal mammaries from which she had drawn nutritive suck in infancy, her other hand stole down her mother's belly to the abundant dark blonde bush which ran from the lower abdomen down and round the perineal groove, some soft sprigs fleecing her mother's plump asshole.
"Ahh, that's it, dear. Frig me," Mary Carruthers moaned, her tongue darting between Angela's lips again, her two forefingers playing both Angela's cunny and asshole with frictioning caresses.
Shuddering, half-dazed by all the conflicting new sensations churning inside of her, the raven-haired teenager gasped and moaned as her forefinger began to frig her mother's fleshy cuntal lips. The girl's intuitively apt touches had been instilled in her by her own onanistic knowledge long before her first day and night of wakened and shared passion.
"Ooooh, yes, honey," her mother squealed as Angela's finger began to waken her own frantic lusts. "Rub my button too, honey. Ohh, you precious lambie you!"
To reward her naked daughter for her obedience, Mary forced the tip of her forefinger in between the tender, shrinking lips of Angela's quaking asshole and worked it in to the knuckle.
"Ohhhh Mamma - ooohh, what are you doing to me - ohhhh?" Angela's voice rose into a sobbing squeal as her asscheeks contracted violently, seeking to expel the profaning digit.
Then, in an excess of sensual excitement which entirely dispersed all her already waning inhibitions and made her momentarily forget that her own father and the priest were avidly watching, her naked body merge in lesbian cohesion with her mother's. Angela thrust her finger deep into Mary Carruthers' vaginal sheath and her own quivering pink tongue into her mother's mouth to rub frenetically against the blonde matron's flickering tongue. A galvanic current of sensual electricity glued the two naked females together. Mary, with a sobbing groan, linked her free arm round the girl's waist and energetically rolled her over atop her.
"Rub your sweet little pussy against mine, baby," she exhorted Angela in a slurred voice, making her imbedded forefinger work back and forth inside Angela's no longer maiden asshole.
Aroused as she was already, the lovely naked young brunette began to feel tingling pleasure in the distension of her narrow young rectal sheath. Her pussy ground against her mother's in a convulsive wriggling spasm which activated her entire body. Her mouth glued to her mother's, their tongues rapiering back and forth in a hot duel of desire. Her own right forefinger returned to Mary Carruthers' cunt. Digging and rubbing wantonly about, her other hand squeezing one of her mother's swollen breasts, Angela began to rub herself like a cat in heat over her mother's carnation-tinted naked body.
"A glorious vision, is it not, my son?" Father Edmund hoarsely asked of his conspiratorial male aide, putting his hand down to pinch his bulging ramrod through the black robe as if to bid it be patient till the moment had come - though judging from his glittering eyes and flushed face, the time was imminent.
"That it is, Father," Fred Carruthers agreed in an unsteady voice, his gleaming eyes followed the gyrations of Angela's reddened oval buttocks as the girl rubbed herself to and fro against her mother's welcoming loins. "Don't forget to suck her and get her ready for me, Mary girl!" he called.
"Wait a bit, Fred honey," Angela's mother panted, "I'm so close, I want the sweet bitch to cream me down. Just be patient, darling!"
"It's hard to do that when I see what's there on the bed. So make Angela finger your clit off," the raven-haired girl's father instructed, beside himself with impatient lust.
"Angie, sweetheart, put your finger on my little button. That's a darling," Mary Carruthers passionately pleaded, arching herself to the lithe naked teenager's wriggling body which ground pussyhairs to hairs and chafed the already moistening lips of her mature and avid cunt.
Her own forefinger remained imbedded to the hilt inside the girl's bottom-hole, working in and out up to the tightening ring of agile sphincter muscles. Angela, moaning and trembling feverishly from the siege of her girlish emotions, had been drawn past the Rubicon of inherent modesty and chastity. A fiery wave of passion suffused Angela's loins, hardened her dark young nipple buds.
With a sobbing groan, Angela probed with her finger till it prodded the blonde matron's well developed clitoris. She began to ply it with frantic rubbings and rollings.
Mary Carruthers, moaning aloud now in her approach, began to buck and thresh under Angela, clamping her pink thighs over the girl's. She glued her mouth to Angela's as the supreme moment grew upon her.
With a prolonged, raucous cry, Angela's mother announced the fruition of her arousal, her head lifting over Angela's bare satiny shoulder, her eyes rolling and humid, the soft ripe mouth gaping in her proclamation of shattering climax. Her body threshed so wildly that she nearly unhorsed her lithe, young rider. Then, in a slurred, husky voice, she told Angela to roll onto her back.
The naked girl did so, her face flushed, her beautiful hard-tipped titties rising and falling in violent turbulence as she sprawled back, the ruffled black silky bush between her widened thighs drawing the hypnotically fixed stare of both furiously roused men.
At once Angela's mother got to all fours and crawled between Angela's quivering thighs. Bowing her head as her fingers gripped the teenager's sleek bare hips, she began to tongue her daughter with loud sucking moist sounds as lips and tongue merged in an oral adoration of the young virgin temple of Venus.
The sensation was so unique and powerfully compelling that Angela uttered a shrill "Ohh !" and arched her loins up till her pussylips fairly mashed her mother's avidly attentive mouth. Angela's soft, little hands clenched into fists. Her face twisted from side to side, contorted and scarlet with frantically aroused emotions. and her bare toes curled eloquently to describe the sweet bliss-torture her virgin cunt was undergoing. Fred Carruthers came closer to the bed, pinching his prickhead with right thumb and forefinger to hold back the violent urge to burst forth all his essence. The priest himself moved to the foot of the bed, gripping the board with both hands till his knuckles whitened as he lost not an iota of the exciting scene which combined lesbianism and incest in the most exquisitely titillating way.
"Is she close, is the sweet little bitch close, Mary?" Fred groaned, his eyes feasting on his daughter's heaving titties and on the restless way her raven head turned back and forth on the rumpled pillow.
"Yes - oh Fred, she's got the juiciest, sweetest little pussy I ever tasted. Just a little bit more and she'll be ready for her daddy," the blonde matron gasped.
Her hands slid under Angela's tossing buttocks to control the sobbing, frantically wriggling naked girl as her tongue jabbed at the burgeoning clit, pressing it back into the tasty, soft, pink love-flesh. Angela uttered a wailing cry, lunged with both hands for her mother's head and twisted her fingers into Mary Carruthers' blonde tresses, lifting up one bare knee and swinging it hugely to one side.
It was too much for Fred Carruthers.
"That's enough, Mary, she's ready as she'll ever be for her first fuck!" he panted, flinging off his robe and clambering into bed.
Reluctantly his lush, blonde wife moved away on her knees, her hands cupping and molding her swelling round titties as she watched her husband prepare for Angela's final maiden martyrdom, that transfixing transition which would turn Angela from chaste teenager into sage young woman knowing all the triple ways of man's pillaging of her maidenheads.
"Baby, you don't know how long I've wanted to do this to you," he moaned as he settled himself over the squirming naked girl, his hands gripping her shoulders to prevent her escape, his bony prick rubbing against her velvety inner thigh, then prodding her soft, thick bush.
"Wait a sec, Fred lover. You don't want to get the sweet little bitch into trouble," his wife chided, leaning over to the night-table, opening the drawer and taking out a package of French ticklers, one of which she swiftly extracted. "Here, I'll put it on for you, honey. After tonight, I'll put Angie on the pill and then you can enjoy the feel of your great big hard dick packed tight in her sweet little pussy! You too, Father, I'm sorry to say."
"Of course, my daughter. I shouldn't condone getting the obedient little darling into trouble," Father Edmund sententiously offered, trembling with impatience for his turn.
With a muttered oath of frustration, Fred Carruthers knelt while his naked blonde wife crawled to him and, giggling softly, bent her head to apply a kiss on his throbbing prickhead. Then she fit the flesh-toned rubberized condom with its loops and whorls along the shaft and the tip over the edifice of his furiously turgid spear.
"There. Now it'll tickle Angie ever so sweetly when she feels it all the way past her cherry, Fred lover," she urged him.
During this pause in the proceedings, Angela had raised her head, staring with glazed, widened eyes at the trio of carnal conspirators whose plans it had been to entrap her into the sacrifice of her sweet innocence. But by now the uncontrollable tremors that raced along her trembling naked thighs, the tingling neat which could be seen as her coral cuntal lips palpitated and twitched from the skillful tonguing Mary had inflicted, and the dark stiff points of her lovely nipples announced that by this moment only the concerns of her fully awakened young, ardent flesh imbued her now.
Angela saw the French tickler, like a second skin stretched tautly over her father's prick as he knelt before her, then lowered himself onto her. She put a hand over her eyes and turned her crimsoning face away. She had just seen Father Edmund's contorted, intense face staring at her from the foot of the bed, and, most shocking of all, observed that he had cast aside his black robe and was naked save for shoes and socks! His prick was even larger than her father's in breadth, though hardly any longer. The glans seemed more oblong than pointed as her father's was. Feverish curiosity now entered into Angela. For the first time, she was witnessing the male penis in gigantic readiness as it prepared to immolate her maidenhead on the altar of lust!
"Be gentle with the sweet girl, Fred dear," Mary Carruthers huskily whispered, remaining on her knees at the head of the bed and to the left of this thrilling conclave.
Her left forefinger was buried in her moist pink cunt. Her right hand tenderly and narcissistically caressed one of her heaving breasts. Her eyes were fixed on Angela's face with a kind of poignant envy and tenderness, as she herself comprehended out of maternal instinct how monumental this moment truly was for lovely young Angela and recalling her own very first girlish initiation to the onus of the male prick.
"I will, Mary. I will, don't worry. Now, Angie baby, put your arms round your daddy and hug him tight," Fred Carruthers huskily urged, his hands avidly kneading Angela's panting pear-shaped titties.
Timidly Angela obeyed, keeping her eyes shut. But this was out of a new kind of modesty. What shamed her was being seen by Father Edmund. Irrelevantly, the thought flashed into her distracted mind of how she was going to be able to confess what was going to take place to this man who had discarded the garment of the priest-confessor.
However, Fred Carruther's overweening passion interrupted this reflection, for he had pressed the tip of his sheathed prick against the moist twitching pink cleft of Angela's tender cunt. She uttered a startled gasp, lifting her head, while her fingernails dug into her father's sinewy shoulders. Her thighs tensed, for she had no knowledge of what demands this first-time ordeal would make upon her untutored flesh.
Thoughtfully her father muttered, "Relax, baby, I'll take it slow and easy. Just you hold onto Daddy and kiss him hard if it hurts the least bit!"
With this, he fused his mouth on hers. At the same instant he thrust forward the tip of his weapon, prodding the resilient membrane of her hymen. Angela started at the faint twinge which signified that her virginal days were virtually at an end. Her thighs instinctively clenched and her fingernails scored his upper back as her eyes widened and rolled, questioning him. But the feel of his maleness weighing down her quivering, satiny naked body was a thrilling and new sensation. It occupied her during this prelude to the breaking of her cherry, thus sparing her the mental anguish many another less enlightened virgin would have experienced.
The spankings after her having witnessed the priest and her mother and then Betsy with her father, during both of which eavesdropping episodes she had masturbated to achieve relief from the feverish tensions these scenes had provoked in her tender young pussy had attuned her, whether she realized it or not. Now her mother's oral and lingual preparation of her pussy for her father's priapic distension and conquest had brought her step by physical and sensual step to the abyss from which there was now no turning back.
Fred Carruthers slid his hands under her bottom, gripping the firm satiny warm cheeks with greedy triumph, tasting his daughter's flesh and prepared himself. Taking a deep breath and wanting to spare the quivering young naked girl as much pain as was possible, he drew back, then thrust forward. Angela's startled cry was muffled by his mouth, which followed hers as she tried to turn her face this way and that as he tightened his grip on her jerking, bucking, weaving bottom.
The hymen had given way. With another edging dig, Angela's father felt himself totally absorbed, deep inside his own daughter's narrow and now unmaidened cuntsheath. With a groan of delight, he immobilized himself, feeling the quaking contractions of Angela's vaginal walls. Under the swift, hot spasm of momentary pain, the naked girl had flung both legs over his, straining him to her. Her fingernails were raking his back, leaving bright pink weals to attest to the involuntary shock which she had experienced. Her eyes were feverishly widened, staring at him. He felt her hot breath fan his face, as he thrilled to the nibbling and kissing her cuntwalls were applying to his impaling spear, a feeling which threatened to make him burst violently, and it took every ounce of will to hold himself back from that premature catastrophe.
Slowly drawing back to the very brink of Angela's soft, moist cunthole, her father slowly forced himself back in to the balls. The naked girl whimpered, "Ohh, Daddy - ohhh - "
Her arms locked around him with a feverish urgency as she closed her eyes. It was as if she had abandoned all save the intensified guidance of her own wakened young body and determined to learn all the nuances of what fucking was truly like. Her face had a rapt look to it and her eyes were closed. Her nails scrabbled at his perspiring back as he shifted himself in her warm saddle, enjoying the spasmodic clutchings which her vaginal walls inflicted on his probing prick.
Her mother, meanwhile, devouring the spectacle, continued to frig herself and to cup and fondle her breasts, each in turn, while Father Edmund, gripping the bedrail with both hands and without moving, stared with a fixed and unwavering rapture, his thicker penis erect and jiggling with frenzied arousal.
Then Angela's father began to fuck her with consistent, regular cadence - pulling back to the brink, hovering there a moment as she squirmed, then shoving back into the balls in an unbroken, rhythmic penetration. The whorls and knobs and curlicues studding the French tickler had begun to do their work. Angela moaned fitfully and writhed, sometimes raising her knees in the air and swinging them to and fro clenching them together, then yawning widely as if wanting to taste the finite sensation which his perforation of her maiden cuntsheath was procuring her wakened young loins.
But his own excitement at watching his wife prepare his own daughter for conjugal consummation told against Fred's powers. Quickening his lunges, Fred Carruthers began to thrust in and out of Angela's cunt with jerky movements, panting and gasping like a fish out of water as his self-control ebbed away ... and then with a last desperate shove, impaling her to his balls, he uttered a yell of ecstasy and sagged over her sprawled naked body.
Now Angela had her own forbidden secret - she had lost her cherry to her own father, before the eyes of her mother and her priest!
Chapter 8
As Fred Carruthers, exhaling a contented sigh of fulfillment, rolled off his daughter's sprawled naked body onto his side, Angela's opulent mother, clad only in her garter-belt and beige nylons, hurried to the bathroom for a wet towel and returned to sponge Angela's unvirgined pussy. Then she opened a decanter of brandy, poured a generous portion into a snifter glass and held it to the trembling, naked girl's lips.
"Take a good sip, darling," she said. "It'll bring back your color and your strength ... how does my sweet girl feel, now that she's a woman?"
"All - all r-right, M-Mommy," Angela whispered, as her mother put an arm round her shoulders and helped her sit up.
Then she blushed as she saw her father lolling on his side near her, grinning at her. Her eyes scanned his limp penis in its condom-sheathed diminution.
"Oh my g-gosh !" she gasped, realizing the full immensity of what had just happened.
"Does it hurt any more, honey? Here, take another sip, it'll do you a world of good," Mary proposed.
"N-no, not anymore ... it did a little at first, when ... when Daddy broke ... inside me ... you know," Angela whispered, her face flooding with embarrassed scarlet.
Again she had just seen the naked priest standing at the foot of the bed, devouring her with avid, glittering eyes.
"That's my girl. But it'll be all over now, you'll see, sweetheart. And you'll be able to have lots of fun with all of us. Tomorrow you'll start taking the same pill I used to keep from having babies," Mary Carruthers avowed. Then, giggling, as she glanced at Father Edmund, she said, "Excuse me, Father."
"Quite all right, my daughter," he hoarsely rejoined with a chuckle. "When I'm visiting the closest friends I have among my faithful flock, I don't stand on the strictest ceremony."
"Thank you, you're so understanding, Father. That's why Fred and I knew it would be all right to work this little gathering out, of course. And now, after the child has rested a little, Father, I'm quite sure you'll be very pleased with her."
"I know I shall. After all, we're not exactly strangers, my daughter," the priest winked knowingly.
"That you're not, Father," the opulent blonde matron giggled again. "Here, I'll finish the brandy. Ahh, that hit the spot. Now, Fred dearest, shall we have a little fun? It might encourage the dear child to be more at her ease with Father Edmund."
"Great idea, Mary girl." Fred Carruthers grinned lewdly. "Just wait till I go to the can and take this raincoat off and put another one on - oh, that's right, I won't need it, will I, with you?"
"Yes you will, darling. I'm just dying to feel what a French tickler does to a girl, and you only just bought them, Fred Carruthers," Mary teasingly responded. "Be off with you and hurry back. I don't mind admitting I'm the least bit sexy after all this. Angela, dear, are you rested now?"
The raven-haired girl nodded. Her mother had propped up two pillows behind her head. Angela wriggled back so that her head might rest on them. She could thus glance down at her own nakedness. She could see that the black thatch of her bush was moist and fluffy, thanks to her mother's sponging her off. The lips of her pussy smarted just a little, but there was also a wonderful glowing feeling inside of them ... and even in her bottomhole, where her mother's finger had widened the tract first ploughed by Father Edmund's massive cock, a gently throbbing sensation seemed to make her want to squirm and twist about even though she knew the priest was looking right between her long bare legs. The fiery glow of the brandy she had sipped added its own aura of well-being.
"Good. Then I'm going to let Father Edmund come to bed with you, dear. But don't be afraid. Your father and I will be right beside you, to help if you've the least worries. I'm sure dear Father Edmund loves you just as much as we do, sweetheart," Angela's mother gushed as she lay down on the other side of the bed.
By this time, Fred Carruthers had emerged from the bathroom, grinning at the sight of his wife and daughter lying naked on the bed. His dormant penis began to stiffen all over again, thanks to that dual inspiration. He took one of the condoms on the night table and fitted it slowly on his cock, while his blonde wife, propped herself up on one elbow and watched with an excited smile, her free hand slyly stroking her lower belly and from time to time brushing the thick dark-blonde curls of her luxuriant bush.
"Here, Father, help yourself," Fred Carruthers called as he tossed the condom packet to the priest.
Father Edmund slipped off his shoes. Turning his back to the bed, he swiftly adjusted one of the French ticklers onto his swollen penis. Then naked but for his socks, he sat down on the edge of the bed nearest blushing Angela and reached out a hand to stroke her bare knee and said gently, "Now, my child, this will not be in penance, but of your own free will. Isn't that so, dear Angela?"
Angela glanced nervously at her mother and father. Mary lay back, knees well up in the air and spread, reaching her arms out to the man whose stiff penis had conceived Angela some fifteen years earlier.
Fred Carruthers ran his hands lingeringly down the insides of his wife's thighs, then tickled her fleshy moist cuntal lips. Mary looked at her blushing daughter.
"Don't be bashful, darling. You're a woman now, just like me. But with your good looks and youth you'll be attracting handsome men like Father Edmund for many years more than I shall. Invite him to come into your arms and between your lovely long legs."
"If you want to, Father Edmund. I-I guess it-it's all right," Angela stammered, now that the fateful moment had come.
With Daddy, it was one thing. But she was blushing almost down to her rapidly swelling titties at the thought of having the priest do it to her while Daddy was doing it to Mother.
"I'll be very gentle with you," Father Edmund murmured thickly as he edged closer to the naked young brunette, his hand caressing the inside of her right thigh, descending to the knee and back upon the velvety smooth surface of warm naked flesh. Angela's eyes fixed on his roving hand and little tremors raced up and down her bare legs and made her catch her breath and her heart beat faster.
She glanced at her naked mother. Fred Carruthers had bent his head to implant a noisy kissing salute to his wife's plump cuntal lips. At once Mary pulled him up to mash his hairy chest down against her swelling titties as he drove his condom-snugged prick deeply inside his wife's vaginal sheath.
"Ohhh, Fred, it's lovely!" the blonde matron moaned, eyes shining and very wide. "I know why they call them French ticklers now. Oh, give it to me hard, darling! Angela, make Father Edmund happy with you, dearest! And if you want, you can hold my hand while he fucks you!"
"F-fucks me, Mummy?" Angela naively repeated.
"Ahh yes, darling. That's what we say when a man puts his big cock into a woman's pussy. Oh Fred, don't hurry. Work me up. I'm just so randy I can't help myself!" Mary feverishly moaned, distracted by her husband's quick in-and-out maneuvers inside her ardent cunt.
Father Edmund had mounted the bed and was on all fours looking down at the shivering, blushing, naked teenager, trying to force a kindly smile to his trembling lips.
"My child, put your arms round my neck and kiss me sweetly," he softly urged.
Closing her eyes and unable to stop blushing, Angela meekly obeyed. As she felt his mouth come down on hers, she also felt the rubber coated hard length of his prick rub along her belly and groin till at last the tip prodded the silky bush of her cunt and found the dainty orifice with unerring aim, then slipped just inside the narrow lobby. She jerked fitfully at the tingling sensations which her second fucking had kindled all along her young vaginal chasm.
"Is she nice for you, Father?" Mary Carruthers looked at the priest with humid, dilated blue eyes, her legs now tightly locked round her husband's hairy calves as she supported the full brunt of his weight with his prick hilted inside her churning cunt.
"Ahhhh, she's - she's exquisite," the priest panted as he carefully lowered himself over Angela, who, keeping her eyes very tightly shut, had docilely linked her supple, satiny arms round his neck, while leaving her thighs passively parted to grant him access.
His mouth now merged with hers. Angela learned at once the difference in male kisses. Her father's had been harsh and exacting, selfishly lustful, whereas the priest's lips were almost as soft as a woman's, gentler, more insinuatingly suave, moist and tender. He seemed to suck at her mouth as if quaffing nectar, as a bee might honey from the petals of a budding flower.
As he kissed, Father Edmund's prick slid slowly in till at last Angela gave a little gasp to realize that he was burrowed in her to his very balls. The sensation of stretching and its resultant friction against the sensitized mucous membranes of her vaginal walls began to rekindle all the singular titillations which at first had made her a little frightened because of their intensity, but which now she began almost to anticipate because of the warm delicious glow that throbbed all through her being.
"Hold my hand, darling," her mother crooned, extending her right hand out to the naked girl.
Angela nodded, blushed more hotly than ever, and groped with her left hand till she found her mother's fingers and interlocked them. The priest, meanwhile, kept up his soft suctioning kisses while his well-manicured hands stroked her quivering sides and hips and thighs, gradually learning the voluptuous young glories of her young svelte satiny body.
His surprisingly gentle movements considerably eased what pangs might have remained from the initial rending of Angela's virgin cherry; also, psychologically, his compassionate appreciation of her lovely, nubile, young naked body lessened her anxiety. Undoubtedly the presence of her parents beside her did much to diminish her confusion over committing what surely must be mortal sin ... for Father Edmund had always preached thunderous sermons on the evils of the sins of the flesh ... and surely, were these things she was obliged not to do? But the pressure of her mother's fingers bade her forget such considerations. And besides, as Father Edmund continued to push in and out of her tender young cuntsheath with no apparent greediness to hasten his own climax, Angela began to sense infinitely complex new sensations which were entirely those devoted to the gratification of the flesh.
Her right arm locked round his shoulders. His left forefinger slipped down to tickle the rims of her cunt and then to find the adorable little bud of her clit and press it lightly. Angela gasped with undisguised pleasure at this thrilling contact. For a moment she opened her gray-green eyes to stare into his flushed, smiling face.
"Am I hurting you, my sweet child?" he muttered.
"N-no, Father - "
"What a lovely, affectionate creature you are, Angela! How grateful I am to your wonderfully intelligent parents for permitting me to aid you in your maturity," he unctuously praised her, all the while his fingertip rubbed her burgeoning clit.
"Oooh - Father - it - it tickles so much when - when you do that," she confided in a tremulous, husky tone that enchanted him with her delicious naivete.
"Then I shall do what pleases you, my child," was his panting reply as he silenced her with another soft, sucking prolonged kiss and began a slightly quicker in and out passage inside the narrow confines of her churning young cunt.
Angela was feeling the convulsive squeezes of her mother's fingers. Fred Carruthers, a finger imbedded in his blonde wife's contracting asshole, was thrusting in and out as if his very life depended on it. Mary's face was flushed and taut with the nearness of her yearned-for climax.
"Ohhhh, Fred, it's so good - ahhh - oooh, try to hold out all you can, darling! Ohhh, Angela, is Father Edmund making your sweet pussy happy too?"
"Y-yes, Mother. Oohh - "
The priest, remembering his first glorious knowledge of the delectable teenager's maiden charms, had slyly pressed another finger against the shrinking rosette of her asshole, whose tight and constricting measure his swollen prick had first taken to begin this unforgettable day of maiden sacrifices to the urges of the male flesh. Angela's hips arched up, her eyes opened very wide, and her fingernails clawed at Father Edmund to announce the sudden burning, throbbing urgency which now began to gather in the innermost recesses of her being.
"Ohh Fred, now, now, shoot it into meee." Mary Carruthers suddenly squealed as a vigorous hilting of her husband's swollen ramrod clashed their bellies together.
His forefinger worked in to the knuckle inside her quaking anal canal. She tore her hand away from Angela's, grabbing for her husband's shoulder, and glued her mouth to his as, shifting her nylon-sheathed plump thighs, she bucked and ground herself madly to him to draw forth the earthquake of hot come.
With a cry of rapture, Fred Carruthers announced his time had come and his wife simultaneously rocked and twisted with him, jostling Angela and Father Edmund in the fury of the their mutual release. This seemed to incite the priest to accelerate the pace of his thrusting inside young Angela's throbbing cuntsheath. As his finger worked in and out of her sensitive young asshole and the other forefinger returned to rub her hardened little clit, Angela was shaken by a mighty wave of sensuality.
Her head flung back, her hands clenched into fists, she began to pound at his back as the spasms came upon her ... with a groan, the priest quickened himself and dug to the hilt, then stiffened and almost sobbingly called out his rapture: "Ohh, my daughter, my sweet daughter, give yourself fully now. Ahhh - ohh, Angela, my daughter, my darling - ohhhh !"
His mouth sucked one of the girl's pink-tipped nipples as he gave up his essence. Angela felt the convulsive jet which the skin-tight thin condom withheld from her womb and yet manifested itself in the thrilling surge along the sensitized walls of her cunt. Then sweet hot darkness rolled over her and she unknowingly threshed and arched to her father-confessor as her very first womanly climax ended the most instructive, unexpected and thrilling day in all her tender young life...
Mary and Fred Carruthers tenderly relinquished their embrace and the blonde matron got off the bed and helped the priest resume his black robe while her husband hurried off to the bathroom. Father Edmund was not unappreciative of her more mature charms, judging from the way his hands cupped both her big round titties and his lips merged with hers in a kiss of gratitude.
"My,daughter, I am profoundly grateful to you for this hospitality and this way of becoming, as it were, a part of your intimate family. Rest assured, I shall continue my guidance of dear little Angela, and we shall be in close communication, never fear."
"Thank you, dear Father Edmund," Mary blushed and lowered her eyes like a schoolgirl. Slyly she reached out to give his still stiff cock a loving squeeze of farewell through the thin black robe. "We'll all see you in church tomorrow, then. And perhaps you'll have supper with us tomorrow night?"
"It will be my pleasure. Ah, the little darling looks asleep ... I fear today has been a trying one for her, but it has ended most happily for all concerned."
"Oh, yes, Father. A good night's sleep and she'll be her radiant self in church tomorrow. Good night, Father."
Chapter 9
Fred and Mary Carruthers lifted their naked, exhausted daughter and carried her tenderly into her room and put her to bed. They went back to their own bedroom - this time, Fred Carruthers' room - so that their precocious only child would have no chance to eavesdrop again. Soon they were renewing the ardent cohesion they had begun while the priest was bringing Angela to her initial girl-come.
A good night's sleep sufficed to restore Angela's vitality. When she woke with a yawn and stretched her arms up in the air, Angela blushed to remember vividly all the things that had happened to her the day before. Glancing at the little alarm clock beside her bed, she realized it was time to get up, get dressed, have breakfast and then go to church.
She put on her white cotton dress with a modestly low skirt that fell to her upper calves, flesh-toned nylons which were rolled over elastic garters, a new pair of panties and matching bra, and her white slip, then her best pumps, and was combing her hair before her mirror when the door opened and her mother, in a blue satin housecoat, brought in a breakfast tray.
"Good morning, darling! How do you feel? Did you sleep well?"
"Fine, Mommy," Angela murmured, turning and rising respectfully, but she couldn't help blushing furiously as her mother's blue eyes intently scanned her.
"My, how lovely you look for church today, dear! I fixed you your favorite breakfast, pancakes and scrambled eggs. That's because you were a good, obedient girl last night. Take your time. Your father and I will eat, and then we'll walk over to church. I'll call you when we're ready to leave."
"Thank you, Mother," Angela quavered as her mother beamed, then left the room.
The lovely teenager discovered that she was ravenously hungry, hardly realizing that ardent copulation has that tendency to create the craving for sustenance ever to override the twinges of conscience. At her tender age, Angela could scarcely have heard the old Latin proverb of "Post coitum animacule triste est" (all animals are sad after coitus).
Half an hour later, the Carruthers family occupied one of the front pews, for Fred Carruthers contributed a large tithe and was proud of his support of spiritual values. He beamed as the handsome priest stood in the pulpit and preached a sermon on the danger of the sin of pride, pointing out that it was through humility alone that man could save his soul from perdition.
Angela listened attentively, her face downcast and meek, though at moments when she raised her eyes, it frequently occurred that Father Edmund was looking straight down at her. Once Angela thought she saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his soft, sensual mouth. Twisting her fingers in her lap, she felt herself blushing and hoped her parents wouldn't notice.
When the services were over, her parents lingered to congratulate Father Edmund on his sermon and to remind him that he was invited for supper at six o'clock. Angela stood behind them, still twisting her fingers nervously and lowering her eyes with a demure modesty that went well with the lovely white attire she had donned. As they were ready to leave, Father Edmund turned to her. With a benevolent smile, asked, "Did you like the sermon, my child?"
"Yes, Father. It-it was very nice," Angela mumbled, her face flaming.
"She listened very attentively, Father," Mary Carruthers beamingly put in, giving her daughter an admonishing nudge with her elbows in the ribs. "You can explain it some more at supper, as I know Angela is dying to learn all she can about obedience and humility - aren't you, darling?"
"Oh, yes, Mother," the brunette teenager hastily rejoined.
Father Edmund took her hand and squeezed it.
"It delights me, my child, to see that one so young is already impressed by the homely virtues of doing good. I shall be happy to explain the parts of my sermon to you after supper tonight at your house, my child."
The Carruthers family walked home, with Fred expatiating on the uplifting sermon that had been preached, to which his wife put in an admiring, "Oh, yes, Fred, he's a fine upstanding man, such a credit to the faith!"
Angela kept silent, but now in the cold light of reality and broad daylight, the young girl began to ponder over all that had taken place, and for the first time, soberly, counter-questions began to pose themselves in her mind. Mostly, it was about the evils of the sins of the flesh, a topic which had formed the theme of several of Father Edmund's most glowingly eloquent sermons in the past. And then the confession: she had been made to do penance for the sin of playing with herself and of watching naughty things being done by others. Yet it was very strange that Father Edmund himself had, last night, praised her for doing some of those very things right in front of her parents, to say nothing of what her father had. done to her in front of Father Edmund and apparently with his blessing. It seemed to be a glaring contradiction, and yet to whom could she turn to question the right or wrong of all this, if not her own parents and the priest? It was all very puzzling, and Angela begant to have misgivings about her conduct throughout this Easter vacation weekend.
Perhaps if she had a chance to see Betsy all alone and talk things over, girl-style, she might find out about some of the things that most puzzled her. For one thing, of course, how it happened that her father had known Betsy well enough to make her do naughty things with him, and even like them.
* * *
It was a little after three when Angela awoke from her nap, having slept in her bra and panties. Since the weather continued to be warm, she tugged on a pair of jeans and a blue polo shirt, slipped on a pair of yellow anklet socks and her loafers, and left the house. Her parents were in her father's bedroom - she discovered this by the simple means of peering through the crack in the closet wall and seeing that her mother's bedroom was empty.
At Betsy's front door, she rang the doorbell, and in a few moments Betsy herself opened it. Her red-haired chum was wearing black satin pajamas and mules. Angela's eyes widened with surprise. She hadn't known that Betsy had such a fancy, expensive pajama set.
"Is it all right if I come in, Bets?" she asked warily.
"Oh, sure, Angie! My aunt's out of town. She's going to stay with her cousin for at least another week, so we can have the whole house to ourselves."
"Betsy, where did you get those terrific jammies?" Angela wanted to know as she followed her friend to the latter's room.
"That's a secret," Betsy giggled, looking back and winking broadly. "It's for sure my aunt didn't buy them for me."
"Oh come on, Betsy, tell me," Angela childishly persisted. Then, as a flash of intuitive cunning seized her, "I'll tell you a secret if you'll tell me yours."
"Oh? Well, we'll see. Come on in."
Betsy opened the door to her bedroom, and Angela gulped as she remembered how she had tiptoed down the hall to this door and found it just ajar and seen her own father doing things to her best friend.
"Now then, what's on your mind, Angie?"
"I-I just wanted to come see you, that's all, Betsy."
"Uh uh. You wanted to tell me a secret, didn't you?" the redhead prompted with a teasing little smile.
"Maybe - but what about your telling me how your aunt let you wear those snazzy jammies - "
"Mmm ... I just might, if you'll tell me your secret first," Betsy countered, sitting tailor-fashion on the bed and regarding the raven-haired teenager with the look of a cat that had swallowed the cream.
"Promise, word of honor, you won't ever, ever tell, not anyone, not even in church?" Angela begged.
Betsy made the sign of the cross over her left breast, enticingly outlined by the cling of the green satin pajama tops.
"Uh huh. Now tell," she urged.
"Well," Angela took a deep breath. "I-I saw Father Edmund - and - and Mommy - they were in bed together Friday afternoon, when he came to visit us. There's a hole in my closet and I-I watched. Oh, Betsy, I couldn't believe it - "
"Why not?" to Angela's stupefaction, her red-haired chum drawled, "he's a terrific looker, you know that, and the girls just about cream in their panties when he gets up close to them."
"But-but-he-he's a priest, Betsy!"
"He's a man too. Hmm, is he ever!" Betsy giggled, rolling her eyes as if to suggest firsthand knowledge. "Did you tell on him?"
"I tried to tell my folks - only - then - oh my gosh, I'm so mixed up, Betsy. You have to help me!"
Betsy reached out a compassionate hand and patted the brunette's flushed cheek.
"Relax, Angie. Sure I'll help you. Tell me everything now."
"Well," Angela took another deep breath, her face flaming. Averting her eyes from her friend's now intent gaze. "I went to ask Daddy what I should do, and - and he had had lots of drinks, I guess, and he - he tried to feel my legs and my titties."
"That's all? And you were scared? You big silly!"
"Oh no, there's lots more! Yesterday, when I went to confession, he - I mean Father Edmund - took me into the sacristy and he sp-spanked me. And then - then he did the same thing to me he did to M-Mommy !"
"You mean he fucked you, Angela?"
"Ohh, Betsy!" Angela was red to her dainty earlobes.
"Well, did he?"
"Yes. But he did it to my - my b-bottom !"
"Oh, that's buggering, then," Betsy wisely declared with a sly giggle. "Did it hurt the first time, Angie honey?"
"Yes. Sort of - only he - he tickled my pee pee spot and - "
"You mean your pussy or your cunt, don't you? Then say so. And I'll bet he tickled your cute little clit, your button too, didn't he, Angie? Come on. If you want to know where I got my jammies, you have to tell me everything!"
Shamefaced, the raven-haired teenager nodded, still looking down at the bed so as not to encounter her friend's mockingly amused stare.
"Well, well. So little Angie isn't virgin any more, is she? And what else happened?"
As she spoke, Betsy calmly began to take off the pajama tops. She was naked to the waist, her ripely developed titties swelling voluptuously as she preened herself, her hands stroking the back of her head and eying Angela with a taunting look.
"B-Betsy!"
"So what! I'm showing off my titties! Now, why don't you slip off your things and let's get comfy, and I'll tell you my secrets too," Betsy proffered as she wriggled out of the pajama bottoms and flung both garments to the floor.
Angela shivered at the sight of the thick, dark-red fleece between her friend's palecreamy thighs and the pouting, dusky aurolae that centered Betsy's lush young breasts. The aura of lascivious mystery began to permeate her against her will and at last, blushingly, Angela slipped off jeans and polo shirt, remaining in bra and panties and anklet socks.
"What else happened at your place?" Betsy at once insisted.
She began to stroke her pussy and the insides of her plump thighs.
Angela's eyes fixed on that soft roving hand and her blushes intensified. Trying not to look, she stammered, "When I got home I wanted to tell Mother. She scolded me for getting my dress all mussed and - and then she spanked me awfully hard - and - and when I went to Daddy to find out why I was being punished for nothing, he - he paddled me too and then he - oh, Betsy, I don't dare tell!"
"You can't stop now. If you do, I won't ever tell you my secrets. So there! Come on, Angie, what did your daddy do?"
"You promise you won't - "
"I said so, didn't I? Come on now!"
"All right - he made me kiss his - his thing - "
"His prick or his cock, don't you mean? Is that what he made you do? And did you, Angie?" Betsy excitedly pursued.
Angela was dying of shame to have to recite these salacious facts so openly, even to her best chum.
"Yes ... but oh please, don't you ever breathe a word to anybody. I know it was wrong. But he made me. Oh, what am I going to do, Betsy?"
"But that was Saturday, huh? And that's not all that happened yesterday, was it, Angie? Come on, don't hold anything back. Aren't I your best chum?"
Against this pitiless logic, Angela Carruthers had no recourse. Desolate and abandoned as she now felt herself, it was vital that she retain at least Betsy's friendship and aid.
"No. Lots more," she breathed, half-fearful of revealing the rest.
"Well?"
"Then I took a nap, and when I woke up, I could hear them talking in Mother's room. And when I looked, Father Edmund was there too. And then - then they came in and took me into the room and - Daddy had me - after Mother had used her m-mouth on my pussy."
"She sucked you and got you hot for a fuck, isn't that right? A real fuck with your daddy's cock in your little cherry pussy, right?" Betsy remorselessly turned the dagger in the wound.
"Y-yes," Angela moaned, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear them of the tears. "And then Father Edmund - he - he did it to me too. And I heard them say they were going to keep me and use me as their - their slave girl. All of them, Betsy. What am I going to do?"
"My goodness, you had a terrific sexy day, Angie!" Betsy heartlessly giggled. "Only, there's one thing you forgot, isn't there?"
"I-I don't think so," Angela innocently shook her head, her cheeks still flaming.
"Oh yes there is. Didn't you come over here after you peeked in on your mommy and Father Edmund and didn't you stand right outside the door here and watch me?"
"OHHHHH ! ! ! BETSY!!! YOU ... YOU KNEW?"
"Uh huh, I sure did. And so did your daddy too, you naughty little frigger you. Don't think we didn't guess you were tickling your pussy till you came. And you did, didn't you Angie?"
"Oh Betsy. But how - how did you get to know Daddy?"
"Silly little bitch. How'd you think I got these jammies? Uh huh, your father's had a yen for my snatch ever since he met me, only it took him long enough to get around to making a play for me. Look at you. Your mouth's gonna catch flies if you keep it open so long!" Betsy giggled, for Angela's mouth was gaping and her eyes were enormous with shocked incredulity.
"But - but your aunt - "
"Gosh sakes, Angie. She's practically deaf and blind. Besides, she doesn't care so long as I don't get into trouble. She gets dough for taking care of me from my folks' bankroll, so she doesn't bug me. Anyhow, when I want, I can always check in at a motel and nobody'll know who fucks who!"
"Oh my goodness!" Angela was aghast at this astounding revelation of her father's sinfulness, and still more so over the fact that it had been going on far longer than she dreamed.
"Know what you need right now?" Betsy brought her back to reality, putting out a hand and cupping one of the brunette's firm young pear-shaped titties.
"W-what?"
"Please. I've been wanting to have fun with you for a long time. Now that you're not cherry any more, you'll like it lots. Besides, I got something terrific to show you. Tell you what, I want to get some Pepsis. We're all out, so I'll go call the grocery store to deliver a couple of cartons and you peel off all your duds, and I'll be back and. show you what a dildo's like for fuckin'."
"A dildo?" Angela echoed blankly.
"You'll see. It's when a girl gets randy and there's no fellow around to service her good. Go ahead, get bare now. I'll be right back soon as I phone the store."
Betsy winked, then left the bedroom. The bemused young brunette slowly removed anklet socks, panties and bra, then stretched out on her back on the bed, timidly clapping one hand over the black thatch of pussy-curls in a gesture of habitual modesty, though by now all her ideas about so puritanical an attribute were being impossible jumbled.
Betsy returned in a few moments, naked as the day she was born. Scrambling onto the bed, she dug under the pillow to take out a flesh-toned plastic hand vibrator and a curious object that looked like a male penis in full erection with dark veins and gnarled testicles. It was attached to a web-strap belt she calmly fitted around her hips. Pointing to the formidably wide tip, she giggled.
"See? That's what a dildo is, a fake prick, Angie. But boy, does it feel great when it fucks a girl's pussy. I'll show you. Only, first let me try this little gadget on your pussy to warm you up."
"Oh Betsy, I don't know. I'm afraid - "
Angela shrank back, putting both hands over her menaced love-center as her red-haired friend picked up the vibrator, flicked on the battery lever and set it to whirring.
"Take your silly hands away. You aren't cherry any more, so don't play being innocent cherry now, Angie honey."
When Angela reluctantly drew her hands away, Betsy knelt beside her and, putting her left hand oil one of Angela's satiny titties and fondling it lovingly, approached the glans-like tip of the hand vibrator towards the brunette's cunt-fleece, playfully engaging it against the ruffled thicket of pubic hair before suddenly brushing it against the dainty pink cuntal lips.
"Oooooooh, that tickles. Ooooh, B-Betsy !" Angela squealed, drawing up both knees and clamping them together with all her might.
"Will you behave! I'll spank you if you don't. Now you spread your legs all you can, and put your hands behind your neck. And don't dare take them away, you hear? There now, just see what this is like and then I'll fuck you good with my dildo. My, isn't it even bigger than your daddy's cock?" Betsy slyly teased.
As Angela reluctantly obeyed, Betsy applied the vibrator against the twitching, gaping pink cuntal lips and made a slow circle, rimming them, while Angela writhed and moaned, her hips beginning to weave slowly to and fro in tempo with the stimulation which seemed to invade all the crannies of her cunt with a tingling heat, very much like what had happened when her mother had prepared her for her first fucking.
Angela began to whimper, then to turn her flushed face restlessly from side to side as Betsy attentively pursued her deft ministration. But when the redhead aimed the vibrator's tip to the nodule of Angela's clitoris, the brunette squealed and jerked wildly from side to side as if trying to evade the furiously exacerbating` sensation.
"Stop that, silly! You just say there and relax till I'm ready for you," Betsy scolded, putting her left forefinger to her own pussy and slowly, delicately frigging herself as she returned the vibrator to its exquisitely sensitive target.
Closing her eyes, Angela writhed and groaned, her fingernails digging into the back of her soft neck as the goading stimulus of the vibrator began to rouse maddening sensations that swirled and churned to the depths of her young, newly wakened cunt sheath. Her bare toes curled and clenched, her heels scuffed the rumpled sheets of the bed till at last she sobbed, "Ohh, I'm going to faint if you don't stop. Ohhh, Betsy, pleeeeeeeeeease, ooooooh, it's tickling me to d-death!"
"Yes, you're ready now for my big cock, darling. My, you should see your clit. It's sticking out just like a prick ready for action. And your pussy is open a yard wide and all drippy-squishy with cream," Betsy huskily detailed her friend's tumescence. "Now, spread those legs and keep them spread. I'm going to fuck you till you spill it all down to me."
Betsy stationed herself between the brunette's long shapely bare legs, adjusted the tip of the artificial prick against the gaping pink inlet, and then mounted Angela, grabbing the brunette's titties and forcing her lips on Angela's panting mouth to silence any outcry as she slowly, forcibly, thrust home.
"Mmmmhhh - mffhfhfhahghghgh - ohhhhhh!" Angela moaned, finally twisting her mouth away from her chum's. "Ohhh, it's tearing me wide open, I can feel it stretching meeee. Ohh, Betsy, take it out of meeeeeee !"
"Oh no, you'll love it pretty soon. Wait till I start really fucking your tight little hot pussykins, Angie," Betsy crooned.
Then, slipping her hands under the brunette's shuddering bare bottom and gripping the ovals possessively as a man might, the naked young redhead began to imitate the age-old rhythm of fucking, and drew back, then thrust the dildo home, drew back, then hilted it again in a steady, probing rhythm.
Angela's hands clutched her friend's dimpled creamy shoulders. Her face contorted, her eyes were bulging and glassy as all the tempestuous yearnings of her young cunt sheath began to surface, thanks to the preparatory attunement of the vibrator.
"Kiss me too, and use your tongue," Betsy passionately exhorted, giving Angela's buttocks a good hard squeeze.
"Mmmm - ahh - ouuuu, Betsy. Ohhhh, you-you're driving me crazy," Angela sobbed, her bare legs finally wrapping over Betsy's as the persistently delving artificial cock began to draw her towards the inescapable abyss.
"So! This is what we find our naughty daughter doing, is it?" a man's resonant and unctuous voice broke in upon Angela's chaotic thoughts, compelling her back out of the ecstatic void of lustful sensation which was absorbing her.
Vaguely, her staring eyes turned towards the door, and then she uttered a shriek.
"Betsy, stop - ohhhhh, Betsy, it - it's Father Edmund. Take it out of meeeeeee !"
Betsy at once knelt, pulling the dildo out of Angela's quaking vagina, and winked at the priest in his black robe.
"Hi, Father! You spoiled it for poor Angie. She was just about ready to cream down!"
"That can be arranged, my child. You've done well. Now then, Fred, if you'll get ready, I think we can both satisfy this wicked sinner's inordinate fleshly desires."
"D-Daddy!" Angela wailed, sitting up and covering her pussy with one hand, crooking her other arm over her heaving titties.
Her father scowled as he took off his sweater and then his pants, standing naked in socks, having scuffed off his shoes.
"I see my little girl has become a tattletale. Instead of confiding in your mother and me, or in Father Edmund, you apparently consider it proper to discuss the secrets of the family with an outsider like Betsy. I'm disappointed in you, Angela dear."
"But - but, Daddy," Angela was consternated by this treachery on Betsy's part, "she told me about you and - I mean - "
"Certainly she did, because I told her to. And she probably told you also that we both knew you were peeking in on us the other afternoon and, disgusting to relate, playing with yourself, when you knew that was a sin. Well, you received penance for that wrongdoing, my girl, but today certainly tops it, don't you agree, Father?"
"Indeed, yes, my son. Angela deserves chastisement, the kind she will remember for a long time. Betsy, suppose you hold that naughty child till we are ready for her," the priest said as he stripped off his robe, kicked off his shoes and was naked again in socks.
Angela uttered a frightened cry and tried to get off the bed, but the naked redhead at once grabbed her by her titties and pulled her back. Then Betsy rolled Angela over onto her belly and sat astride her waist, playfully applying a few stinging slaps to the brunette's temptingly upreared bottom which left flaming splotches of her palm's imprint on the smooth, palpitating bare flesh and drew pathetic cries from the helpless girl, wordlessly shocked by her best friend's perfidy.
Fred Carruthers got onto the bed, made a sign to Betsy, who at once put her hands to Angela's buttocks and yawned them open, disclosing the furtively shrinking lips of the brunette's dainty anus. The priest handed him a tube of Vaseline and Angela's father industriously anointed his swollen organ down to the balls, then dabbed his stickied forefinger over the girl's spasming bottomhole.
"Hold her like that, Betsy honey, or I'll paddle your hind-end good and hard," he warned.
"Ohhhhh Daddy. No, no, please not that!" Angela wailed, at last understanding only too well what penance awaited her for her naive confidence in sneaky red-haired Betsy.
But Fred Carruthers, in furious rut, ignored that poignant plea and, gripping Angela's upper thighs to force them well apart, lowered himself till the tip of his swollen prick brushed the flinching lips of her condemned asshole, then thrust vigorously, distending them and moving past the protective ring of agile sphincter muscles which at once tried with all their youthful might to close the aperture - but all in vain.
Angela lifted her contorted face, eyes dilated and glistening, mouth agape in a cry of pain and shame and despair. But this only excited her father the more. With a grunt, he thrust himself nearly to the balls and her hips swerved and lunged, trying to disengage the hot harpoon that was stretching her dainty rectal sheath beyond endurance - or so at least it seemed.
"Now, I've got her. Get off, Betsy and watch," he panted.
As Betsy nimbly scrambled away, frigging herself both forefingers as she attentively watched the thrilling scene. Fred Carruthers stretched himself out over his daughter's body, his hands groping for and finding her flattened titties and clutched them possessively and gloatingly, his mouth applying noisy hot kisses on her soft nape. As he did so, he shoved himself a little further till he had impaled her to the very hilt, drawing an anguished, shrill wail from the frantic sufferer.
Taking a deep breath, he rolled her over till he lay on her back with Angela atop him, her front presented to the naked priest who, by now, was kneeling on the bed beside the incestuous couple awaiting just such an opportunity.
"Oh gee, Father, you're going to double-hole Angie, aren't you?" Betsy squealed her excitement, her forefingers working faster in her seething cunt.
"Precisely, my daughter. It is a penance which I think this young sinner will remember for quite some time. It will teach her not to carry tales out of school, to coin a phrase ... hold her tightly. Fred - Betsy, my child, hold her ankles. She's trying to kick. Ah, that's better. Now, then, my daughter, resign yourself. Ahh - ohh, it's good. Am I crushing you, Fred?"
"I don't mind a bit, Father," Fred Carruthers gasped as he felt the priest's weight force Angela's naked back down on him as his fingers tweaked her nipples.
The naked brunette tried to push the priest away with both hands, but by now he had planted himself, having first fitted onto his swollen penis one of the French ticklers brought along from Fred Carruthers' bedroom. As Angela felt the whorls and knobs and spirals with which the rubberized condom was adorned, she moaned and wriggled wildly, thus causing her father's deeply imbedded turgid prick to move about in the tight clenching cavern of her asshole procuring ever new sensations. As the priest's prick burrowed to the balls inside her quaking cunt, she felt as if the thin partiction between her love channels was threatened with disruption, and her body began to jerk fitfully, while sweat beaded her forehead and furry-thatched soft armpits.
"Now, let us work with a will, Fred," Father Edmund urged in a hoarse voice as he drew back, then lunged violently to the depths in Angela's warm young vagina.
Her father, though hampered by the pose and the weight of his daughter's naked body sandwiched between him and the priest. Nonetheless, he managed to shift a little, rasping his cock inside Angela's protesting asshole. Betsy, rapt with excited lust, speeded her frigging to achieve her much-yearned-for climax as she watched her friend's singular penance. Father Edmund began to frig Angela's clit in cadence to his thrusts. The naked young brunette's wails and sobbing cries reached a crescendo. Her body threshed madly about, then slumped in the blissful nirvana of frenzied, overpowering, hot come ...
Chapter 10
Angela was revived when Betsy opened an iced bottle of Pepsi and spilled it all over her, obliging her to hurry into the shower before returning for the rest of the "penance." Her father and the priest commanded her to make up with Betsy. To Angela's shame, she learned that what they had in mind was an act which the French called "soixante-neuf." Betsy, giggling, translating for her.
"It's sixty-nine, Anglie, 'cause when we fit together, we sort of form that figure. I'll show you. You just lie down on your side ... there now, I'll do the same in reverse ... now you suck and lick my pussy, and I'll do the same for yours! That's what sixty-nining is, honey."
The naked brunette was reluctant to perform so shameful an act in the presence of the still naked priest. Her father pulled his belt out of his pants and applied two or three stinging smacks of the black leather over the sobbing girl's bottom and thighs till she expressed an eagerness to obey. Both men avidly watched as the two naked girls began the exquisite lesbian ritual of mutual cunnilingus. Angela was obliged to continue till she had truly "made up" with her best friend by bringing the latter to an overpowering orgasm. Betsy, in turn, requited her in somewhat longer time with her own seething spend.
Before the afternoon ended, however, Angela was compelled to perform a final penance, and this with her father-confessor. For while Fred Carruthers lay down on Betsy's bed and had the sexy young redhead first suck his prick back to readiness, then impale herself over his upright organ, Father Edmund instructed Angela to suck him off and to swallow all his manly seed as he lay on his back beside her father, pillowing his head in his hands and enjoying the view of Angela's dangling firm titties and the scarlet, shamed lovely face that humbly and salaciously performed the ritual of obeisance ...
Fred Carruthers had led his fearful, meekly subdued young daughter home to have supper with Father Edmund and the girl's mother. En route, he told her in no uncertain terms that from now on she was to submit herself without argument or discussion whenever any of the three of them wished to enjoy her favors. Betsy, too, would be included in the secret little menage. Indeed, she would help instruct Angela in some of the more complicated sophistries of sexual byplay which, as Fred Carruthers pompously explained, "you'll find lots of fun for yourself, Angela dear, and you'll be able to please us all that much more. Now if you're a very good girl, I'll buy you some nice red satin pajamas, which will make you even sexier-looking than your cute girlfriend."
Over the supper table, Angela was obliged to listen to more sermonizing by both the priest and her parents, and listened silently, putting in a "yes, Father" or "Yes, Mommy" when an answer seemed obligatory. To her great relief, the priest took his leave shortly after supper, and no more demands were made on the lovely brunette's overwhelmed emotions. After all, as Mary Carruthers gently pointed out, the next day was school and dear Angela would need a good night's sleep.
The week after Easter vacation had been a hectic one for the slim raven-haired girl. The sisters had, it appeared, been more vigilant than was their wont and every day obliged her to stand up and recite the lesson or to answer oral questions about the subjects taught at the particular session. Fortunately, she managed to give passable account of herself and so escaped demerits or a crack over the knuckles with the punitive ruler, every sister kept for unruly or slack pupils.
On Friday night, Father Edmund came over for supper, and, after an hour spent chatting in the living room with Mary and Fred Carruthers, smilingly beckoned to the blushing brunette to follow him into her mother's bedroom. Once inside, he said gently, "Now, my daughter, I wish to see if you've profited from your penances of last week. Kneel down, take up my robe and oblige me with your sweet dutiful mouth."
She turned scarlet but did not dare to disobey. Slowly she knelt down as he approached her. Her soft little hands tugged up his robe, to discover that he wore only boxer shorts beneath.
"Lower them, my daughter," he murmured, putting his hand on her head by way of benediction.
Angela hastily obeyed, and his massively erect prick thrust boldly out at her trembling lips, which, after a moment's blushing hesitation, she began to apply at his explicit instructions. Soon she found that he wished her to rasp her tongue over every cranny of his bulging cock, especially his balls, before taking as much of it as she could into her soft mouth and swallowing down his violent ejaculation of viscous spunk.
When it was over, he readjusted shorts and robe, patted her head and commended her for her obedience and humility, and then went back to take his leave of her parents.
A few moments later, Mary and Fred Carruthers entered the bedroom and smilingly praised her newly acquired meek obedience.
"If you're a very good girl, dear," Mary purred, "this summer vacation, we might just all of us, including dear Father Edmund and your chum Betsy, take a little cabin in the Wisconsin woods and get to know one another better. As for me, I'm just dying to see what Betsy's like in bed."
Angela made no reply to this, only bit her lips and waited for the rest. Sure enough, she was now obliged to suck her mother's cunt to prepare her for her father's conjugal embrace, and to kneel on the bed beside them and hold her mother's hand while Mary writhed and groaned and wriggled under Fred Carruthers' energetic prick-thrusting ...
On Saturday morning, the anniversary of the first week after her loss of maidenhood, Angela was eating breakfast, her father and mother having both gone to the supermarket. Father Edmund would be there for Sunday dinner, which would be a standing roast of beef. The pretty brunette read the comics, then idly flipped the pages of the first section till suddenly her eyes fell on a note near the bottom of the page:
"DIOCESE BISHOP VISITS
Bishop Arthur Manning, after his sabbatical, will visit his diocese and its numerous parishes beginning next Monday, the ecclesiastic's press secretary John Benton revealed to our Courier reporter today."
Angela's lovely eyes widened, then she gasped. She tore the column out of the newspaper and hurried back to her room to hide it under a pile of freshly ironed handkerchiefs. Surely this meant her salvation. For if the bishop, the head of the diocese in which Father Edmund was ordained priest at the church and at the school, were to visit there and she were to tell him what was being done to her, the least the bishop would do would be to reprimand Father Edmund for committing the very sins of the flesh he had so angrily sermonized against!
* * *
"You've been remarkably quiet, my child," Father Edmund gave her a kindly smile. "Now, now! Your parents and I don't mean to quash your naturally gay spirit, not in the least. After all, you're a grown young lady, Angela, and you may certainly take part in our family discussions just as you do in other even more pleasant affairs."
"Speak up, darling. Father's talking to you," Mary Carruthers purred. "Isn't she lovely in her white dress, Father? Fred is going to buy her some red satin pajamas and a black nylon shortie nightie and some other very pretty undies if she continues to be so well behaved."
"I-I was just thinking, Father," Angela at last spoke up, and she looked boldly at the smiling priest.
"Very good, my daughter. And what were you thinking?"
"Oh, just about what Bishop Manning would say when I go to confess to him all about the awful things I've had to do. I was punished good and hard for the first ones, but I haven't confessed the others, and I think I ought to."
Fred Carruthers dropped his fork with a clatter onto the Wedgewood serving plate. Mary Carruthers gasped and turned a fiery red, coughed and then grabbed her napkin to suppress the flurry. As for Father Edmund, his mouth gaped, then his face turned as red as Mary's.
"But, my child, there's no need to ask a bishop to hear your confession. I am empowered to do that as your parish priest, Angela my child," he at last rejoined.
Angela shrugged her lovely shoulders.
"Well, I phoned the bishop's hotel this afternoon, Father, and I talked to his secretary, I guess that's who it was, and I'll see Bishop Manning Tuesday morning, at your church."
"Now, Angie dearest, you wouldn't want to do a dreadful thing like that," Mary Carruthers' voice was trembling and faint.
She looked helplessly at Fred, who shook his head and stared down at his untouched roast beef.
"Oh, but I have to, mummy," Angela purred. "You and Daddy brought me up to be a devout child and to go to church every Sunday and make my confession about my sins, and I want them all to be forgiven."
"Er - arrhumph," Father Edmund had cleared his throat and was working at his collar, which suddenly seemed to be painfully tight. "My child, I assure you there's no need for that. I myself, right now after dinner, will give you absolution."
Angela shook her head till her curls danced. Her mother had had her affect a new hair style, very sophisticated one, yet retaining a piquant child look all the same: a thick sheaf at the back down to her shoulderblades with the curls turned under, and a row of tiny spitcurls all along the top of her high-arching pure forehead.
"But a bishop is higher in the church than a priest, isn't he, Father?" she naively asked.
"Of course, my daughter, but I've already said - "
"I think I'd rather confess to him, then, Father, if it's all the same to you," Angela rather rudely interrupted, in a cold unrecognizable voice that made her parents simultaneously gasp with horror and exchange another look of consternation.
"I beg of you, child, don't do this - " again Father Edmund stammered hoarsely, then looked over at Fred and Mary as if for moral support.
"I think if I do confess, Father," once again the brunette interrupted, giving him a long cold stare, "they'll kick you out of the church. Why, maybe the bishop will even send me to a foster home where I won't have to do what everybody tells me to. I sort of think I might like that - for a change."
"Now, Angela, don't let's be hasty, darling, I-I - well, I'm sure we can work this out between us. After all, we're all grownup, sensible people, dear," her mother anxiously interposed.
"If I don't confess to Bishop Manning, Mommy, all of you - and Betsy too - will have to do what I want from now on. Otherwise, I'll just go there Tuesday and tell him about everything. How Daddy goes to church and gives money, but sneaks over and does things with Betsy. And you, Mummy, how you invite Father Edmund here and take him into your bedroom and - "
"That's enough, Angela darling - please," Mary Carruthers groaned. "Oh, God, Fred, we can't let her do that, you know we can't."
"No, that's true, my children," Father Edmund had taken out a large white handkerchief and was industriously mopping his perspiring forehead. "So, my daughter, what do you ask in return for your silence before His Holiness ?"
"I'll call up and tell him that I made a mistake, or maybe I'll just go see him and ask him to bless me, that's all. Yes, that would be all right - he might get suspicious if I didn't show up at all," Angela leaned back in her chair, slowly staring at all three of her adult disciplinarians. "Yes, so I'll just get him to bless me. But from now on, I'm going to tell you and Betsy what I want to do, and you'll all do it or else! I hope I'm very clear on that point, Mummy - Daddy? And you. Father?"
Again the trio of adult conspirators exchanged a despairing look, and all slowly nodded, fixing the charming young brunette teenager with an imploring and questioning stare.
"Very well, then. First off, I want us to go to Betsy's house. She's got punishment coming, and lots of it for snitching on me, and for playing around with Daddy behind my back. Mommy, did you know all about her?"
Mary Carruthers bowed her head, but the telltale flaming blush on her pink cheeks was answer enough.
"Uh huh. I thought so. Well, then, Mommy, you've got punishment coming too - specially 'cause you whacked my poor heinie awfully hard with that darned old leather sole and all for nothing, since you knew what Father Edmund here had just done to me. Bring the sole along, we'll go see Betsy right now."
"But we haven't finished dinner, dear," Mary Carruthers tried to placate her amazingly transformed brunette daughter.
"Stick it in the oven. It'll keep till we get back. Come on, all of you!" Angela grinned.
And so, a few minutes later, the four of them were at Betsy's front door, Angela herself ringing the bell insistently till at last the redhead answered, sulky-faced, clad in her green satin pajamas and sandals, holding a movie magazine and smoking a cigarette.
"Hey, what gives?" Betsy gasped, stepping back to let them in. "Father, I thought you were coming over tomorrow night - "
"Be quiet, my daughter," he snapped at her. "Just do as you're told. Well, Angela, my dear, what are your orders now?"
"Daddy," Angela turned to her father once they were inside the house, "I want you to give Betsy a bare-ass spanking with Mommy's leather slipper. Good and hard, till she cries, only don't let her off till you're sure she's had a good licking."
"Now wait a minute, Angie. Who're you to - ohhhh - stop it - ouch. Hey, cut it out - oh please, Mr. Carruthers, I didn't do anythingoww - "
Fred Carruthers had seized the leather sole from his wife's numbed hand, taken Betsy by an earlobe with the other and was whacking at her shapely ripe round bottom through the clinging, thin, green satin pajama pants as he marched her into her bedroom.
Then, as Angela waited to bring up the rear by letting her mother and Father Edmund enter ahead of her, she called, "I said, on the bare ass, Daddy."
"Er - yes, my dear, as you say," Fred Carruthers nervously agreed.
Seating himself on the edge of the bed and hauling the squealing redhead over his lap, he proceeded to yank down her pajama pants.
Betsy, frantic and terrified by this unexpected turn of events, rushed both hands back to prevent this catastrophe. Angela made a sign to her mother. Mary Carruthers swiftly seized Betsy's wrists and pinned them back while Fred completed yanking off the offending garment and laying Betsy's creamy bottom shrinkingly and vulnerably bare.
Circling her waist with her left arm, he raised the leather sole and began to apply it with vehement energy, first on the left cheek, then the right, starting at the tops of her ripe young naked hips and working down to the tops of her wriggling thighs. When Betsy began to shriek feverishly and kick and thresh, he paused, shifted her over his lap to his left knee, then clamped his right leg over her calves and resumed the spanking. After some fifty hard swats, Betsy's bottom was even redder than her hair and she was weeping bitterly and promising incoherently to do anything in the world.
"Go stand in the corner with your bottom to us, and frig yourself, Bets," was Angela's next crisp command.
When her sobbing chum hesitated and looked timidly over to the priest for reprieve, Angela snapped, "Maybe you'd like the Father to give you a second dose of just as many swats, hm, Bets?"
The redhead uttered a piercing cry of fright and scrambled into the corner, where she began to tickle her pussy with a trembling forefinger, sobbing all the while as if her heart would break.
"Now then, Father Edmund," Angela fixed him with a mocking smile, "I want you to punish Mommy exactly the same way. Mommy, take off all your clothes except your stockings and belt, and be quick about it."
"Oh, Fred - " Mary Carruthers groaned, ruefully rubbing her spacious posterior in understandable apprehension.
"Do what she says, Mary, or I'll spank you myself when Father gets done with you," was her husband's irritable answer.
Tears began to glisten in her blue eyes as buxom blonde Mary Carruthers slowly removed her dress and slip, then - not without another plaintive sob and appealing look back at her taciturn husband - reluctantly unfastened the tabs of her pantie-girdle. She tugged it down and stepped out of it while the priest, his face red and his penis already visibly thrusting against his robe, sat on the edge of the bed and took the proffered leather sole from Mary's husband.
"Get over his lap fast, Mommy!" Angela insisted gleefully.
When her mother had assumed the contrite pose for juvenile chastisement, Angela herself moved to the bed, sat down to the left of the priest and reached for her mother's hands.
"I'll hold them so you won't cover up your big heinie, Mommy," she offered.
It wasn't long before mature Mary Carruthers was squealing and sobbing and imploring Father Edmund to stop, even announcing hysterically she would do just anything if he would only stop that dreadful spanking. But Angela shook her head to all such frantic appeals till at last sixty spanks had been inflicted over the jerking, weaving, angrily swollen round hemispheres of her mother's naked posterior. Then she ordered: "All right, Mommy, now I want you and Betsy both to do a sixty-nine. Betsy taught it to me, but not too good, and I want to see you both show me how it should be done! Betsy, get back to bed, or I'll have Daddy spank you all over again!"
She watched as her mother and the naked teenaged redhead moved together in reverse, Mary applying her lips and tongue to Betsy's cunt. The teenager, still sniffling from the hard spanking, licked Angela's mother. The brunette began to take off her dress and petticoat now, standing in bra and panties, hose and pumps, and insisted, "You both have to do it till you both come, or you get more spanks."
Angela gleefully watched them both groan and weave and wiggle and kick in the throes of orgasm. Going to the night table drawer and opening it and taking out both the vibrator and the dildo, as well as Betsy's pack of Pall Malls, ordered, "Betsy is to be double-holed by Daddy and Father Edmund right now."
"Oh noooo, please, Angie. Noooo !" Betsy wailed.
But the two men were frenzied with lust at all they had seen and done. Betsy's appeal was not even answered as they both seized her, standing her up near the bed. Fred Carruthers and the priest stripped naked at Angela's order and then, as Father Edmund buggered Betsy, his hands squeezing her panting round titties, Fred Carruthers fucked the sobbing naked girl, his hands pinching and kneading the swollen red flesh of her voluptuous bare behind till they both achieved fiery climax inside her quaking channels.
"On the bed, on your back, Mommy dear," Angela now purred as she strapped Betsy's dildo round her agile hips.
Mary gasped, turned red as a beet, but hastened to obey. Apprehensively she spread her thighs at her daughter's sibilant command, then hid her scarlet face in her hands as Angela, with one hand opened the lips of her fleshy vulva, steadied her artificial prick with the other to guide it into her mother's quivering vaginal sheath and began to fuck her as vigorously as ever Betsy had done to her with that convenient instrument.
So energetically did Angela pursue the enjoyable new game that before long her mother was wriggling and groaning and calling out in the throes of orgasm, then sagged and lay panting and inert as Angela pulled out the weapon of vengeance.
"Now, both you, Daddy and you, Father, lie on the bed side by side on your tummies," Angela commanded. And when they obeyed, she drew her father's black belt out of his pants and began to lash their bottoms. A hard lash for her father's, a harder one still for Father Edmund's, till at last before the tireless energy of her strong young right arm, both men wept and sobbed and pleaded like naughty children undergoing parental discipline.
"Now," Angela purred as she slipped down her panties and stepped out of them, "you naughty boys can just come down here and crawl on your knees and take care of me."
Groaning and rubbing their wealed behinds, but their pricks in fierce erection, Father Edmund and Fred Carruthers sheepishly knelt down and crawled to the voluptuous lithe young half-nude brunette.
"Daddy, I want you to suck and lick my pussy till I come. You, Father, get behind me, open my butt, and lick my bummy hole and say you're sorry to it for what you did to it in the sacristy, and you better do it nice - or else I'll have to tell Bishop Manning after all!"
With a groan of shame, the priest slowly parted Angela's bottom ovals to disclose the rosy rosette of her dainty asshole. Conquering his revulsion, he applied his tongue-tip to that furtive niche ... even as her father, still sniffling from the belting, began to tongue and suck her tasty cunt.
"Now, Mummy," Angela called huskily, "you said you wanted to try Betsy in bed, so why don't you put on that dildo thing and fuck her good and hard while I'm having fun?"
And as she wriggled and sighed in ecstasy under the tonguings both her new male slaves inflicted, Angela watched with humid, eager eyes the payment deferred visited on treacherous red-haired Betsy as Mary Carruthers, wielding the dildo as a man, pinching Betsy's titties and bottom as indeed a man might in the embrace of fucking, thrust back and forth with the dildo till Betsy writhed and sobbed and finally attained expiring come ...
"All right now, let's go back home and finish dinner," Angela called gayly as she put her clothes back on. "Oh, one last thing I forgot to mention - Father Edmund, when I go to confession next Saturday, you're to come into the booth and kneel down and hear me while you work on my pussy this time, understand? I'll go keep my appointment with the bishop Tuesday, and I'll ask him for his address so I can write him and tell him all the news of the parish. Of course, if you all behave real nice, this can be my little secret from him, can't it?"
She smiled as each of them in turn nodded dolefully. It would be fun, Angela thought to herself, to have at last a secret of her very, very own!