Fall from Grace {mf ff md fd MC 1st humil oral anal others}
codes defined at /~benwa/scfr.htm
Synopsis: Cathy, the Preacher's beautiful daughter is gradually
transformed into the antithesis of her father's ideal at the hands
of his enemies who plan to destroy him. Different story codes are
appropriate in each of the many story parts.
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DISCLAIMER: The following is a work of fiction and any resemblance
between characters in this work and actual persons living or dead is
entirely coincidental. This work contains scenes of explicit sex
between adults and is intended for the entertainment of adults only.
If you are offended by depictions of adult intercourse or if you are
less than the age of majority in your jurisdiction then LEAVE NOW!
Please do not read or download this file. Because this is a fantasy,
characters in this work may engage in unprotected sex in a universe
where AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases do not exist.
In reality sex without protection is unwise and nothing in this
work should be taken as condoning such activity, or any of
the other activities depicted herein.
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Part 1: Innocence Lost {mf MC humil}
Synopsis: Cathy develops into a beautiful babe. Her mom and
dad battle to determine if her body and soul will be dedicated
to the Lord or to earthly pleasures.
====================================================
The Right Reverend Augustus Goodhead was a fire and brimstone man.
He believed in the path of righteousness and had little patience
for the weaknesses of man. He had brought down the wrath of the
entire community in the name of the Lord on any who in his opinion
strayed from what he considered proper moral behavior. His favorite
target was pornography in all its forms. Purveyors of the
temptations of lust and sex deserved only Hell and Damnation.
The Preacher's family was held up as a shining example of purity.
They dressed conservatively. Did not speak publicly unless addressed
by the Preacher. And never did anything to be gossiped about. The
Preacher was quick to criticize any that did not match the high moral
standard his family set. Over the years he had made many enemies.
It was only a matter of time until the Preacher was delivered his
just reward.
Cathy was the Preacher's only child. She worshiped her father. Over
the years the Preacher had instilled in her the fear of the Lord, the
fear of sex, the fear of boys. The only valid reason for physical
relations between the sexes in his opinion was the creation of new
life and only then within the sanctity of holy wedlock.
The Preacher was most disturbed when Cathy began to change from
a little girl into a young woman. She understood his injunction that
her blossoming body must be hidden from the lustful eyes of evil men
who would want to touch her in unholy ways. When Cathy felt the
normal urges of any young woman, she denied and suppressed them
as unclean temptations sent by the Devil.
Soon enough her father declared, he would select a properly moral man
to be her husband. It would be a mature, propertied man, 10 or 15
years older then her who could assist the financially ailing parish to
do the Lord's work. Neither Cathy nor his wife would have any say in
the matter. When Cathy's mom heard this she knew it was time to act.
Cathy's parents had a strange relationship even for the clergy. They
never showed any physical intimacy, slept in separate rooms, and said
very little about how they met or why they got married. One night the
Preacher had too much sacramental wine and told how he had saved
mother from a sinful life, but refused to elaborate. Mom would
sometimes become steadily more tense and stressed during the week,
but after she came back from shopping on Thursday afternoon she'd
be relaxed and happy again.
From all external appearances, Cathy's mom was a proper and obedient
wife. In public, she dressed and spoke like a preacher's wife should.
In private, she seemed to have methods of getting her own way. For
example, she had her own plan for Cathy's future that was quite
different from the Preacher's. So she considered how to bring it to
fruition.
Mom knew the about the urges that came with the physical changes now
so evident in her daughter. Her own passions were as exceptionally
potent today as they'd been since puberty. She saw signs that her
daughter's were even more dominant and undeniable. Once there was
even a tiny crack in the dam holding them in check, there'd be no
stopping the inevitable flood.
Using that knowledge, she quietly undermined selected teachings of the
Preacher. She told Cathy stories about the wonderful times she had on
dates with boys when she was young. How they made her feel special,
took her to exciting places, and had fun dancing or seeing movies.
Mom never spoke about sex, but she confided how much she loved being
hugged, held close, tickled, massaged and many other things that Cathy
would only remember later.
Cathy's strict upbringing was the only thing that had prevented her
from getting nailed years ago. At 18, she was still a virgin. That
was amazing because she has a dynamite bod'. The 5'8" tall college
freshman had perfect skin and long wavy brunet hair down to her waist.
- - - - -
Mom was a health nut who'd infected me at an early age. Regular laps
at the pool kept my waist at 18" and hips at 32". My 120 pounds was
mostly muscle, but on a swimmer like me it didn't show like it would
on a body builder. Mom said that I was all smooth curves except for
one exception that jutted out spectacularly.
Little could be done about the 33D bust that I apparently inherited
from my Dad's mother. The rest of my svelte little figure makes my
breasts seem even bigger. I've lost count of the number of times I
end up talking to a boy who's staring at my tits (the lewd name they
use). I wish they were a more normal size not what dad calls an
unholy temptation. They're hard to hide even in the bulky shapeless
clothes that my dad insists I wear. It's a good thing that he doesn't
see me in my bathing suit. Even a conservative one-piece hides
little.
Mom first seriously raised the idea of going on real, un-chaperoned
dates. All the other girls my age had been doing it for years. I was
afraid of the idea of because of all the horror stories that dad had
told me. Especially scary were tales about how big-chested girls like
me are extra desirable to the very worst sort who delight in
corrupting young girls. So I sided with Dad who refused to allow me
to be exposed to the base lusts of men.
Mom quietly "worked" on both him and me for months explaining it
was the normal and proper path for a young woman. There were
many virtuous boys from upstanding families who could be trusted
not to lead a good girl astray. If the Preacher continued to forbid
any form of dating then people would suspect that there was something
untrustworthy, unnatural or wrong with their daughter. Then finding
a prospective marriage partner for her would be much more difficult.
Despite her best efforts neither of us would give an inch.
One Sunday afternoon when dad was away trying to raise funds for the
church, mom came to me for a serious talk. She described in detail
all the female urges I was sure no one suspected, how she'd seen me
looking at boys, how I thought about them kissing me and touching me
late at night in bed and when I took a shower. She knew everything!
Mom said, "These urges will inevitably lead to your corruption no
matter how strong your virtue. When this happens the Preacher and
I will be forced to cast you out and you'll descend to a life of
debasement, disease, and death. It's my responsibility to give you the
strength to resist in ways that only a mother knows." By the time she
was finished, I was shivering in fear and willing to do anything she
asked.
Mom went into the kitchen for a glass of my favorite wine, "to calm
your nerves". She mixed in a small packet of white power that had
been obtained from a symphonic friend. She handed me the glass, sat
down next to me, and prompted, "Now drink it all down dear before
we begin," After I had drained the glass she took out the silver cross
she wore around her neck, held it between us and said, "First we will
pray for guidance, focus all your thoughts on the holy cross look at
nothing else and repeat after me."
While we prayed responsively I noticed the cross twirling slowly.
It caught little flashes of light on its surface. It seemed to twirl
faster one way then the other. Mom's voice was very soothing. It
seemed to grow more distant. I could hear it, but not make out the
words. My eyelids seemed to grow heavier, and heavier. I couldn't
keep them open no matter how hard I tried.
I must have dosed off, but I was feeling so much better now after
praying with mom. Mom said, "That's much better, now we can continue.
You'll always be 'My Baby Girl now a Beautiful Princess' and mother
knows what's best." I responded, "Mother knows what's best for her
beautiful princess." It was very important to listen to each word mom
said and remember.
We had many talks like this in the days to come. It became a game.
Mom would start, 'My Baby Girl now a Beautiful Princess' should be
dating boys." I'd respond, "A Beautiful Princess should be dating
boys." It took a while, but slowly she got me past my terror of
boys. Once that happened, I came around to her way of thinking, as
she knew I would. I couldn't wait to start dating. Once I joined her
side dad finally relented. However, as a condition of his agreement,
he set strict rules about curfew and meeting any boy before he was
allowed to take me out.
My very first official boyfriend was Jebadiah, or just "Jeb". The
Preacher had personally selected him. He was the son of one of the
church Deacons. For our first three dates, Jeb had taken me out to
dinner, a church social, and a church picnic. The dinner was nice
except I refused to drink any wine except for my favorite which made
Jeb a little upset. At the social we danced a respectful distance from
each other, but I felt Jeb watching the way my breasts moved a lot.
At the picnic we entered the potato sack race together. Jeb seemed to
be rubbing up against me a lot more then necessary. That's probably
why we lost. The only other physical contact between us was on my
porch at the end of the each date. We hugged and kissed and promised
to see each other again. I felt guilty the way I enjoyed how my
breasts crushed against his broad chest.
Before Jeb arrived for our fourth date together, Mom spoke to me
alone, "between us girls". She said, 'My Baby Girl now a Beautiful
Princess' likes when boys touch her. I played along responding, "A
beautiful princess' likes when boys touch her." I already knew that
so I listened intently to what other advice mom had, "Cathy, things
change on the fourth date. There's more touching in ways you're naive
about. You started dating much later then other girls so you have to
be a lot more flexible. Otherwise, Jeb and the other boys will stop
coming around. Many things will happen tonight that you're unprepared
for. You have to allow them to happen and not resist. Don't start
quoting your father's scripture to Jeb. Think of it as 'Going with the
flow'. After all, a boy personally selected by the Preacher wouldn't
do anything against the Lord's teachings. And try to copy how you
see the other girls touching boys. Now go get dressed quickly."
I acknowledged, "Yes Mother, you know what's best for me."
I came back 5 minutes later complaining, "Mom, I don't have a skirt to
wear." She went over to my dresser and replied, "I just started the
laundry with all your clothes. You have two choices left. This pair
of jeans which is a little worn and stained but is clean. And the
yellow skirt you never wear." I harrumphed, grabbed the skirt and
shooed her out.
I didn't like the yellow skirt because it's so short. It's the only
one I owned that came above the knee, a full four inches. Most of my
skirts extend down to the ankle. When she bought it, mom said I had
the cutest pair of legs in town and should occasionally show them off
more. Dad said a proper young lady should never wear pants for a
social occasion, so I really had no choice.
Jeb must have liked my skirt. He kept looking at my legs and
complemented me on how pretty I looked. I felt better about the
skirt. Finally, something besides my bust was being appreciated. Jeb
drove me to a movie downtown. We sat near the back with a group of
other kids our age.
The movie was about a group of 6 girl friends about my age. They were
constantly thinking and talking about boys. The girls were all very
pretty and dressed in skimpy clothes with lots of makeup and jewelry
designed to show off their bodies. Whenever they walked, they shook
their behinds and made their breasts jiggle licentiously. It was
obvious that some of them weren't even wearing a bra. Jeb's eyes
were glued to the screen.
There were endless scenes of the girls not simply letting, but
encouraging the boys to touch them in indecent ways. My dad preached
against this type of pornography that inflamed young people and
encouraged them to engage in immoral behavior. I thought it was
disgusting, but Jeb loved it. When I looked around there were many
girls doing the same things shown on the movie screen with their dates
inside the darkened theater. They must be harlots like dad said.
I wanted to leave before Jeb got the idea that he could touch me so
improperly. Jeb said, "Your mom suggested this particular movie. I'd
been planning on taking you to see a nature film about swans. Your mom
said to mention something about 'the flow' if there was a problem."
I thought, "Well, if it was mom's idea then I'd give it another chance."
I settled back in my seat without a word.
When Jeb saw me relax, he put his arm around me. That felt nice. In
a few minutes he gave my shoulder a hug and put his other hand on my
bare knee. It tickled a little, but seemed OK. Then I noticed the
couples on both sides of us were not only kissing, but were touching
each other in obscene ways. On the right, each had a hand between the
other's legs! I locked my eyes on the screen.
I couldn't believe the moaning I heard from a boy and girl hidden from
view under a squirming blanket on the bed of her bedroom. Her parents
had gone shopping for the entire afternoon. They repeatedly gasped
out each other's names. Then their clothes started flying out from
under the blanket. When I saw a girl's bra and panties fall to the
floor, I turned my head away towards Jeb.
That's when he kissed me. At least this, I'd been prepared for, so I
kissed him right back. After the first kiss, there was a second, a
third, and then many more. Jeb was a really good kisser. I lost track
of what was happening on the movie screen.
Jeb seemed to be pushing my lips apart with his tongue. Did he want
to stick his tongue into my mouth? That was gross. What would dad
say? I wouldn't allow such a nasty thing.
Then I first noticed Jeb's hand moving up my between my legs. He was
already halfway up my thigh. The warm feeling of his fingers against
my soft inner skin seemed to be beaming signals to relax straight into
the juncture between my legs. Without thinking my legs began parting.
Jeb's hand increased its speed. Then my virtue reasserted itself. I
clamped my thighs together, trapping the invader scant inches from its
goal.
I was so distracted by Jeb's hand that my lips parted. His tongue
drove right inside and began darting about, hot and caressing. I
heard mom's voice in my head say, "go with the flow". So, instead
of breaking the kiss, I experimentally touched his tongue with mine.
"Mmmmmmm," Jeb seemed to approve. I liked the feeling too; it
wasn't nasty at all. With his prompting our tongues began to
dance about one another, touching and caressing.
The arm around my shoulder pulled me closer as we broke the kiss.
We shifted so I was tilting my head up a bit waiting for the next
kiss. Jeb shifted too. As he kissed me again the arm around my
shoulder came to rest on top of my breast. His fingers seemed to
be reaching from my nipple, but that was several inches away.
Well, wasn't that just a normal position to rest his hand?
What should I do about the other hand? The warm feelings of it between
my inner thighs were increasing since Jeb began shifting it back and
forth. The hand on the top of my breast began a slow circular
massage. Was it inching closer to my nipple? I was overcome by the
warm feelings those hands were sending into my body. Thoughts became
incoherent. My mind drifted in a pleasent fog as we kissed.
I was caught unaware by Jeb's three-pronged attack on tongue, thigh,
and breast. The languor spread to my limbs. My legs relaxed,
allowing Jeb's hand to continue its interrupted advance. He might
be a good church going boy, but he was still a boy who knew what he
wanted from me.
Jeb's hand grabbed my nipple between thumb and forefinger. At almost
the same moment, his other hand somehow managed to reach all the
way under my skirt, push aside my panties, and rested directly on my
vagina. The shock of those dual contacts, where no one had ever
touched me before, shocked me out of my lethargy. I jumped up,
forcing his devious hands to drop away from my body. I excused myself
and practically ran for the bathroom. There I stayed until the movie
was over.
I shivered at what might have happened. If Jeb had been a little more
subtle, I would have been corrupted. I could still feel his fingers
on my vagina. If he had begun rubbing there. If his fingers had found
my most sensitive spot... I shivered at the thought. It gave me a
licentious rush that continued to resonate deep within me. I would
have succumbed to the depraved pleasures of the flesh. How could my
father have allowed such a boy near me? Was my faith being tested?
I looked in the mirror and saw both nipples poking out from my
sweater, not just the one he touched. Neither seemed ready to go back
down. It was hard to believe the incredible power of my reaction to
such a brief contact. The flesh is weak I saw, just as my dad
preached. Would any of this have happened if I'd chosen the jeans
instead of this short skirt?
By the time I came out, the movie was over. I had Jeb take me right
home. There was no kiss on the porch for him that night. He was
through. Mom convinced me that not all boys were like Jeb. She
reminded me about the parts that I really liked. I agreed to try
dating again with another boy and not tell dad what happened.
Otherwise, the Preacher would forbid all dating. I decided to let the
boys know from the beginning how far I'd go.
At first, I set very harsh rules, no touching my breasts or past
mid-thigh. I enjoyed the kissing especially with tongues. I didn't
mind a hand around my shoulders or even on my knee. Maybe its because
my breasts are so prominent that they all made a try for one sooner of
later. No matter how they beg or plead, I draw a firm boundary.
However, when the myriad offers trickled down to almost nothing,
something had to be done.
Mom got me alone for more girl-talk, "My Little Baby now a Beautiful
Princess' lets boys touch her breasts." Why of course, but for fun I
repeated, "A beautiful princess lets boys touch her breasts." I
listened raptly while she explained why I had to change. If a boy
spends his money on you for dinner and a movie he expects something
in return. Just let him touch you a little and you'll find that it
can be as nice for the girl as it is for the boy. You'll become much
more popular, but don't tell dad. He won't understand. It's not
evil. It's not unholy. It's perfectly natural." I trusted mom and
I was desperate, why did I wait so long before giving it a try?
The first time I let a boy really touch my breasts was a revelation.
My nipples are super sensitive. The feelings were amazing. My
naughty nipples would harden to little points almost immediately.
They shot hot messages deep into my brain. In a few minutes, I
was in a sexual fog. I'd lie back awash in the sensations while
the boy did anything that he'd want. I never stopped a boy from
touching my breasts again.
The part of me that still believed all my dad had preached cursed the
fact that I'd been too weak to resist. That part kept shrinking under
the continual sensual onslaught. My body loved the attention and
couldn't seem to get enough. Through my weakness, my flesh had been
corrupted by the lecherous touch of many boys. No longer was I the
pure, moral girl my father preached about. Even Jeb was given another
chance to sample the pleasures of my young, vibrant charms.
I clung to the fact that at least one part of my virtue was still
intact. I was still a virgin, if only by luck and mom's advice.
She'd been very firm that I shouldn't let myself be touched until
my date parked in our driveway. If I hadn't listened to her then
I don't know how far things might have gone.
Mom confided in me that although it was very unusual for girls'
breasts to be as sensitive as mine that her's are the same way.
We were the lucky ones that could get much more pleasure then
other women from being touched there and other places.
So knowing what might happen, she was watching me. She had turned
on the light before things went too far -- "Until the right boy comes
along". There was no further explanation for this cryptic comment.
Now I make sure never to let a boy touch me that way unless they were
parked in the safety of my parent's driveway. No boy had every dared
trying to score on me in the Preacher's driveway. That didn't stop
them from giving my body the treatment it craved.
After only a few moments, I'd sigh and lay my head back, already in
that wonderful place where boys worshiped my body and lived to give
me pleasure. The hands would roam over me without any resistance,
heating wherever they touched.
The bolder boys would push down panties and dive into the sweetness
between spreading legs. I wouldn't need to say anything. The soft
moans that escaped my lips were more then enough encouragement
for deeper male exploration.
There was now no shortage of suitors for lovely, pliable Cathy. The
word spread of just how far I would let my dates go. I acquired the
nickname "third-base Cathy". Some took it as a challenge to see if
they could get me and themselves to home plate.
- - - - -
A few of these were more skilled in a car. Cathy's moans would
become louder and louder. She'd feel a pressure building deep
inside her. Her hips would start moving without conscious control.
Suddenly, the driveway light would come on and all activity would
cease. Cathy's mom had her timing down perfectly. She knew just
what to tell her husband and more important what not to tell him
to keep peace in the family.
There was now a conspiracy between Cathy and her mom to hide the
truth from the Preacher. In a few short weeks she'd been transformed.
Where before there was a dutiful, chaste girl who worshiped her dad;
now there was a lustful, deceitful woman who hid her increasingly
need for the pleasures of the flesh from the Preacher. She began
questioning everything he had ever said, but only in her secret
thoughts. She feared to question him directly and her earliest
training stopped her from taking the final step.
This was an area that mom and dad were in total agreement.
She explained about getting pregnant and why it must be avoided.
I took this to heart. It would be the one undeniable sign of my fall
from grace. The Preacher would cast me out forever.
Still the Preacher was suspicious. He made sure that no boy lasted
more then a few weeks. This was far too little and far too late to
stop the transformation of his daughter. Her mom knew that Cathy was
becoming the type of lascivious vamp that he had often denounced as a
one of Satan's harlots. She secretly encouraged this with photos of
many kinds of sexual coupling and stories to go with them so Cathy
would be "prepared for her wedding night".
Cathy toyed with the idea of masturbation. Her friends whispered
about it sometimes. Despite the increasing awakening of her vibrant
sexuality, she never touched herself except to clean "down there".
Endless hours of personalized preaching by her dad insured that she
never seriously considered it. The Preacher's stark morality had
always dominated Cathy's thoughts and dreams until very recently.
Now they turned to other men.
Mom and I had more girl-talk discussions. She asked about
my dreams, "My Little Baby Now a Beautiful Princess dreams
about sex." I replied, "A beautiful princess already daydreams
of what would happen if the driveway lights did not come on."
I listened closely to mom who said, "If your nighttime dreams
turn increasing lurid, you'll develop urges to be bound, disciplined,
and dominated. The more you resist, the more obscenely depraved
your dreams will become. Do not tell anyone or dad will commit
you as insane or worse still declared possessed by the Devil."
I acknowledged, "Yes Mother, you know what's best for me."
- - - - -
I replay my dates over and over in my mind. I even started dreaming
about them. Sometimes, I'd have nightmares about losing my virginity
despite my protests and struggles. Since mom bought me satin sheets
and pajamas things have changed. The feel of satin against my skin is
so sensual and erotic. Can it be related to the way my thoughts and
dreams have changed? No longer merely sexually charged, they've
turned dark and degenerate.
At night, I've been starting to have dreams of being captured then
tied down helplessly. I'm at the mercy of faceless men who want to
break down my resistance and dominate me. The images are like some of
the pictures that Mom showed me, except I'm the one being forced to
surrender. More recently, my role in these increasingly erotic dreams
has become steadily more submissive.
First I'm stripped despite my useless protests. After only a few light
caresses, I plead for their touch, to please my captors in any way
they command. Sometimes they remove their masks, revealing the face
of a boy I've dated. Then I must pay homage to their private parts
with my hands, lips, and, tongue. Last, my naked body is aroused by
masked men until I'm driven mad with sexual need. Writhing like a
bitch in heat I spread my legs wide to reveal my innermost charms.
I beg to be taken. When the final submission comes, I scream in
orgiastic joy. Awakening sweaty and frustrated, these intense
images now haunt my daytime thoughts as well.
I'm afraid of these dreams. What's wrong with me? Is it the Devil
torturing me for my loss of purity? Is it some kind of weird mental
illness? I don't speak of these depraved dreams to anyone, not even
mom.
- - - - -
I commute daily to the local Junior college. Mom wants me to be a
business major. With my affinity for math and numbers she says
that I could be an accountant or actuary. Dad doesn't care since
he expects to marry me off soon. I haven't decided yet.
Every night, I come home to mom and dad. Over the years,
there've been endless sermons on the evils of sex, how lust
was the surest road to hell, and how he needs me to remain
a symbol of chaste purity for the entire community.
I still maintain the illusion that this is true.
At college I'm being exposed to new and different ideas. There are
lots of out-of-town students who think that they are majoring in
partying and the opposite sex. I've heard that at 4-year colleges
that the students are a bit more focused on their studies.
The Preacher never allowed discussion of my going to an out-of-town
college. He wants me to stay under his watchful eye so I'll stay
immaculate and virginal until he can marry me off to a proper (boring)
man of his choice. He wants to do it soon, before I turn into an "old
maid". After seeing examples of those choices, I'll do anything to
avoid them. I want to marry someone close to my own age that I find
attractive. I've already met my perfect guy. We share a love of my
favorite sport, swimming.
- - - - -
Before I started dating, swimming was my only outlet. I'm the top
female sprinter in both backstroke and butterfly. I love the feeling
of the water rushing against my skin.
Swimming is the only time I don't have to wear bulky clothes to hide
my body from men's eyes. At first it made me nervous. I felt exposed
wearing nothing but a bathing suit that revealed instead of hiding my
body and emphasizing my oversized breasts. After talking to mom, I
realized the freedom and independence from dad's restrictions that it
gives me.
The men have swim practice just before the girls. They always used to
disappear quickly when they were done and the girls swam alone. Right
after I started dating, one of the guys started hanging out to watch
us. He says he's trying to improve his performance.
He began to talk to us about our swimming technique. He introduced
himself as Tom, a sophomore. The other girls thought he was very
handsome. They enjoyed having a man around to flirt with. It became
a contest to see who could make his thing hard in the tight bathing
suit he wore. It wasn't very difficult to do. The other girls giggled
that it was the biggest any of them had seen.
When I noticed he seemed to pay me more attention then any of the
others. It made me feel special, even if I was uncomfortable about
the way he ended up starting at my chest. Usually the other girls in
their sexy clothes get all the attention. I get ignored except when
I'm alone with a guy on a date.
I started looking forward to seeing him. After a few days, I didn't
even care if he was staring at my breasts. For once, I was the center
of attention. I even started to do a little snap like mom had shown
me, hopping up after picking something up. That really made my
breasts bounce. More then once, I saw it made his thing get hard, but
I got really embarrassed when he caught me staring at it.
I started daydreaming about him. Then he entered my dreams at night.
Along with whichever boy I was currently dating, he became one of
those to whom I begged to submit. Sometimes there was a wet spot on
the bed when I awoke.
Those dreams popped into my head as soon as I see him. It's getting
so bad that I become aroused when I feel his eyes on me. I jump
quickly into the pool so that he doesn't see my large nipples
hardening right through the thin fabric of my bathing suit.
He's paying less attention to me since I started escaping into the
pool. This won't do. I'm going to have to conquer my shyness. I
finally get mom alone when dad's not around and tell her about Tom.
She says, "My Little Baby now a Beautiful Princess will do anything so
Tom will ask her out." That's why I'm asking her advise, but like
always, I reply, "A beautiful princess will do anything so Tom will
ask her out". Mom says, "The longer you're with Tom the hotter your
body gets; the more you trust him and need to obey him. Let Tom see
that and watch how hot it makes him." I acknowledged, "Yes Mother,
you know what's best for me."
The next day, I did my snap. It had the desired result. Tom stopped
to talk to me. Quickly his eyes dropped to my breasts. I felt my
nipples hardening, but kept talking. I know he noticed. I kept
stealing glances down to Tom's suit. His thing was getting hard. It
looked bigger each time I peeked. Too soon I had to jump into the
water and start my laps.
We talked daily now. I regained my spot as Tom's favorite. We talk
while standing inches away from each other pretending not to notice
how each young body arouses the other. Every day it became harder for
me to tear my eyes away from his thing. He sees me doing it, but we
both pretend that's not happening too.
Once his thing attains its full size, it seemed to be vibrating with
a life of its own. I have to restrain an urge to reach out and touch
it. Tom still doesn't ask me out and I am too shy to make the first
move.
Unsuccessfully, I tried some of the other girl's tricks, batting my
eyes, tossing my hair, stretching to further accent my breasts, and
"accidentally" rubbing against him. It certainly began to arouse me.
Now when I noticed his thing get hard, my body responded with that
familiar wetness between my legs. Fortunately, that was something he
couldn't discern. I would have died of embarrassment.
One day when I got to practice, I found the bathing suit I kept in my
locker had ripped right in the crotch. It was impossible to fix or
wear and I didn't have a spare. Usually, I notice when a suit is
starting to wear thing and get another before something like this
happens. Conveniently, one of the other girls said she had a spare to
lend me. Jen was one of those popular girls with the best and sexiest
clothes. Even though she was rarely friendly and sometimes nasty to
me, I jumped at the chance and thanked her profusely.
I took the required shower before entering the pool. When I returned,
Jen was already dressed. She offered to hang up my wet towel. I
unwrapped the towel from my unclothed body and handed it to Jen.
She tossed it to a friend of hers who relayed it into the wet towel
bin then Jen handed me the suit.
Taking my first good look at it, I declared, "I can't wear this!" The
bathing suit was a miniature two-piece, not even a real racing model.
It was closer to being a string bikini. Jen scoffed, "Don't be such
a prude. This is a really important practice, the district swim-meet
is next week. The team needs you at this practice."
Then a bunch of Jen's friends appeared in their bathing suits. They
started teasing me, "Prude! Virgin princess! Afraid someone will see
the holy temple." I was completely nude surrounded by girls who were
fully dressed, heaping scorn and ridicule on me. Under that kind of
pressure, I caved in and started to put on the skimpy suit.
It was even worse then I thought. Jen was barely an "A" cup. What
looked sexy on her felt positively lewd on me. The top was two
inadequate triangles that barely covered my large nipples. All of my
enormous cleavage showed. Jen and her friends stood there to make
sure I didn't change my mind. When I hesitated they'd start teasing
me again.
The bottom was even worse. Even though I tied it tight, most of my
behind was still exposed. The front was cut so thin that no matter
what I did a few of my dark pubic hairs could be seen sticking out.
Someone quipped, "You need to shave that hairy virgin twat." The
girls all cackled in glee. That was too much, I ran out to the pool
without even grabbing a towel.
Unlike the suits I normally wore, I felt my breasts bouncing
indecently with ever step. It made me feel naked. I felt the snug
bottom sinking into the crevice of my backside. When I heard a
jeer behind me about my sexy ass, I tried to adjust it. The only
result was that the front became wedged in my vagina.
Then I entered the pool, I couldn't fix the bathing suit without
drawing attention to myself. If I was unobtrusive, perhaps I
could slip into the water without anyone noticing.
Tom was already there. He was standing directly between the pool and
me. Oh, Lord! What will happen when he sees me? I turned to bolt,
but ran into the girls who had hurried after me. They blocked my
escape back into the locker room or into the pool.
Jen spoke up, "Oh Tom, I really didn't understand your explanation
of the backstroke yesterday." Tom replied, "I'll have to show you to
make it clear, but I need one of you to help me demonstrate." I was
trying to hide behind the other girls, but they pushed me forward.
Jen lied, "Cathy wants to volunteer."
Before I could protest, Tom's tone changed into the same type of
commanding voice my dad uses when he demands instant obedience,
"Cathy, come here and lay face up on the mat." Without thinking, I
did exactly that.
He knelt beside me, and in the same commanding tone said, "That's a
good girl. Now do exactly as I say or you'll spoil the demonstration.
Relax! I'll move your arms and legs as needed. And I love how that
bathing suit looks on you."
I felt his eyes on my exposed flesh. It had the predictable effect.
My hardening nipples made two little tents in the bikini top that was
clearly visible. An image of Tom's hardening cock flashed unwanted
into my thoughts. I heard the girls snickering. I wished I could
just sink into the floor.
I can't remember what Tom said, only the feel of his hands on my
flesh. He started with my arms. Tom extended them far above my head,
crossed at the wrists. I imagined them handcuffed and bound. This
was so much like my dreams. I was starting to get very horny.
His fingertips felt like firebrands as they moved lightly downward,
tickling the hairs under my armpits and lightly brushing the edges of
my breasts. I tried to suppress my growing arousal, focusing on how he
wished me to move. I began to respond more quickly to his signals.
When he needed to reposition my torso only feather light touches were
required. I felt his fingers brush across my hips and belly. I never
thought of my belly button as being sensitive, but I felt an almost
electric jolt when a finger grazed it. I jerked so hard, it make my
breasts jump off my chest. My eyes were still screwed shut. I
couldn't look at Tom's face. I prayed that my nipples hadn't popped
out of the tiny top.
When he moved down to my legs it seemed necessary for him to push
apart my knees. I didn't move them fearing everyone would see my
unshaven bush sticking out of the bikini bottom. His hands moved to
the insides of my thighs. Still I resisted despite the hot flashes
his touch sent straight into my vagina until I heard the words,
"frog kick".
That's when I felt the wetness between my legs. I had failed to
suppress my reaction to Tom's touch. Now, I could only try to hide
it. It became more difficult as the seconds dragged on. I prayed
that no one would smell or worse see the growing dampness on the
bikini bottoms. I felt sure it would begin leaking out of me any
minute.
Now understanding, I allowed Tom spread to spread my thighs wide to
demonstrate the frog kick. Both knees were practically touching the
mat. I felt the narrow bikini bottom, already wedged between the lips
of my vagina, sink much deeper. Worse still, the top of the sensuously
soft material came to rest directly on my already excited clitoris.
Each time Tom moved my knees together and apart to demonstrate the
frog kick it felt like a finger was stoking the burning flame of sex
higher within me.
I could never remember being so turned on. Was it because I wanted
Tom so much? Was it because I had to stay perfectly still while his
fingers caressed my skin? Was it because I was exposed to everyone's
gaze? Was it fear of being revealed as a horny slut? I didn't move
except to obey his touch. My thoughts ran in useless circles while my
arousal grew.
I felt my remaining restraint slipping away. Any second I'd thrust
myself into Tom's arms. My soft hot body would press against his
hard muscle uncontrollably seeking release.
Tom must have been reaching for my arms again. It was probably by
accident that he lightly brushed against my distended right nipple.
My reaction was immediate and uncontrollable. I had been holding my
breath and gritting my teeth. Now, a loud gasping moan exploded from
my lungs. I lifted up to press my tormented nipple into Tom's hand.
Tom's hand jerked away. My eyes popped open and saw both erect
nipples were fully exposed and between my widespread legs the clear
stain of my leaking juices. The smell of my arousal was pungent in
the air. I had realized my worst fears. Everyone had seen my body
act like the harlots my dad preached against.
Tom looked surprised, but all the girls were laughing at me. In a
singsong voice they jeered, "Virgin-in-heat needs hard fucking." I
jumped up to run. As I did the entire bikini slid off me. Someone
had untied the strings. Stark naked, tears streaming down my face, I
took off for the locker.
I threw on my clothes and ran almost all the way home. It didn't
matter how many classes I'd miss. I couldn't face anyone.
Mom was sitting on the couch. I threw myself into her arms and cried
until she calmed me down enough to speak coherently. I told her
everything. Mom explained, "That bitch, Jen and her cronies had
obviously planned this. She cut your old bathing suit. I know you've
been humiliated, but your dad was probably the real target. He has
many enemies."
The Preacher was out on an errand for mom. Mom made me swear not to
tell him. He would go crazy and kick me out of the house then be
destroyed himself when the word of what happened spread. If I agreed,
she would make a few calls and handle everything. Otherwise, the
entire town would be gossiping about this by tomorrow.
What about Tom, was he in on it? Mom said, "Almost certainly not. I
know his family and I met him once. He's not that type of young man.
From what you've told me, Tom is attracted to you and has always
treated you respectfully. Any you obviously have the "hots" for him.
Give him another chance and you'll get more then you ever dreamed."
That night I dreamed of Tom. How he touched me. His touch making me
hot and helpless. He was the one who bound and stripped me. He made
me into a slave who begged to be allowed to please him. When I awoke,
hot and sweaty, there was a large wet spot on the bed that smelled of
my arousal.
Everything mom said seemed to come true. No one treated me
differently the next day at school. Still I couldn't bring myself to
go to swim practice for at least a few days.
- - - - -
It was the end of the day. I was crossing campus on the way to my
last class. Suddenly something crashed into me without warning. I
dropped like a rock completely dazed. Recovering slowly, I gazed into
a pair of concerned and sensitive eyes.
Strangely, I felt a rotating pressure between my legs and growing heat
and moisture there. I couldn't seem to move, pinned by those eyes,
almost like they were hypnotic. My breathing deepened. Then my hips
pushed forward. Just as I realized how aroused I was the pressure
vanished.
Some degree of control returned. My eyes focused on the face with
those amazing eyes. I saw a handsome and concerned face. When my
hearing and brain kicked back in I realized it was the Tom! He was
trying desperately to apologize.
He spoke in such a rush that I could only make out a little of what he
said. He'd been trying to catch a football pass thrown by a friend
and had not seen her. The resulting collision had knocked us both
to the ground, but Tom who was 4" taller and 40 pounds of muscle
heavier then me recovered first.
Once he was sure I was OK, he and his friend Jerry gathered all my
books and papers which had gone flying in all directions. My initial
anger dissolved as Tom continued to apologize so profusely.
I hadn't moved, still dazed and flat on my back. Then I noticed him
checking me out. He still liked what he saw. He wasn't turned off by
what happened yesterday as I had feared. Neither of us seemed to want
to speak of it. My next thought was that I was late for my last class.
I tried to get up, but Tom wouldn't let me move until I promised to
allow him take me to an expensive restaurant to make it up to me.
Tom's strong muscles easily held me in place without hurting. I began
to get angry. I was strong, in good shape, and unused to anyone who
could physically overpower me so easily.
Just then, I looked down and saw that my skirt was pushed all the way
up and everyone could see my frilly white bikini panties. They were
soaked. My slit was hot and leaking as if someone had been fondling
it. I turned bright red in embarrassment and quickly agreed to
whatever Tom wanted. As soon as my hands were free I pushed
the skirt down.
Tom didn't seem to notice, but lifted me off the ground onto my
feet like I was a feather. Feeling his strength made my the muscles
between my legs spasm. I felt the juices were flowing freely.
"Accidently" I stumbled saying, "Oh, I'm still dizzy. Please
hold me." My breasts were pressed against him. He must have felt
how hard my nipples were even through my bra. He held me close for
a few minutes then I said, "I'm better now." He released me and
replied, "OK, if you're sure. I really have to go and don't worry,
I already know your address and phone from the swim team records."
Then he was gone. Even though I was late to class, I felt great.
I was finally going on a date with Tom, the man of my dreams
(literally). Of course, I could never, ever tell him about
those obscenely erotic dreams.
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Next, Part 2: Virginity-Lost { MF MC 1st oral }
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Fall from Grace, Part 1: Innocence Lost {mf MC humil}
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