Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 God's Flock 2

   By Katzmarek

  
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   Author's note.

   This work is fiction with a lot of fact thrown in.  Or maybe its fact
with a little fiction.  Anyway, its been scrubbed, cut and pasted,
exagerated, mutilated, mashed and bashed.  It remains my property and can't
be used for profit without my express permission in writing.  Oh!  and the
Assembly of God told me later in life that the tactics described in the
story didn't happen.  So that's all right then.  I guess I must have
halucinated it.  {K}
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   Part 2

   Nan and I spent the next 30 minutes or so with our faces close together
in the space under the floor of the hall.  We kissed a little, sure,
stroked each other's faces, looked into each other's eyes, but mostly just
talked.

   I remember dragging the back of my hand down her chest, it illicited a
little embarrassed smile.

   We didn't do much but it was still a very erotic moment.  I think we
were both charged with desire but uncertain how to proceed.

   So we talked about our hopes, feelings, about others in the group,
music, I even talked about motorcycles.  She listened, and more remarkably
for me, I listen to her.

   I loved her voice, not just her relatively exotic Canadian accent, but
its timbre and expressive quality.

   She used her hands a lot to describe things and her eyes would flash
when she was excited about something.

   She told me I was too skinny, but I had a cute 'butt.' That slang term
had not become common usage in NZ then.  I told her she had a 'bum' to die
for, at which she laughingly told me that bum had an altogether different
meaning in Canada.

   I normally get a little claustrophobic in confined spaces but that night
I didn't feel the least bit uneasy.  Occasionally I'd get a little whiff of
her shampoo, strawberry.

   Time seemed to pass quickly and after a while we could hear people
calling, far off.  Nan took a final drag of her cigarette and said,

   "Shit, look at the time, its past 'lights out'."

   She scrambled out of the crawl space and whispered for me to wait awhile
before emerging myself.

   I wriggled out, suddenly aware of how close the little space was, and
crept to the corner of the hall to check if the coast was clear.

   I could hear the banging of doors and far off voices.  I waited until
the commotion died down before creeping back to the van.

   Later, in my improvised bed, I could hear footsteps.  Upon observation I
could see someone walking around with a torch.  I hoped that Nan hadn't got
into any trouble.

   The next day was free, that is, there were no engagements.  The bus was
going to take most of the camp sightseeing but this was a purely voluntary
activity.  For those wishing to stay behind, a leader was going to organise
some games and other activities.

   I was grateful Nan elected to remain at camp.  I caught up with her
after breakfast and suggested we do a little sightseeing of our own.

   "But where will we go?" she asked.

   "I hear there's some great coastline," I said, " we could check it out,
maybe have a picnic."

   I could see she was conflicted.  She didn't think the leaders would
approve and any 'bad conduct' would be reported to her parents.

   However one thing I came to learn about Nan was that she had a taste for
conspiracy and was always good for a dare.  We therefore laid our plans.

   The camp was laid out on the site of an ancient Maori 'pa,' or fortified
village called 'Maunga Tapu,' or Sacred Mountain.  It was on a promontory
of a bay surrounded on three sides by water.

   Although it was called a 'mountain,' it was hardly higher than a dozen
metres.  The old Maoris had levelled the ground and tipped the spoil down
the sides to form a steep bank.  200 years ago the bank would have been
topped with a pallisade and ditch and would have been virtually impregnable
from the sea.

   Nowadays, the bank was a grass slope dropping to a narrow gravel road
that lay between the bank and the water.

   Although the camp was surrounded by a chain-link fence, a gate gave
access to a small beach on the seaward side.

   I announced to the leaders that I was going for a drive into town about
mid-morning.  I hopped in the Beagle and drove out of the gate going a fair
way down the road.  I then double-backed and turned into the little gravel
road and parked.

   A softball game was in progress with everyone, who hadn't gone
sightseeing, participating.  Nan simply announced she was going for a walk
around the coast and left via the beach gate.

   Within ten minutes Nan appeared running along the gravel road and jumped
into the van.  Fortunately there was enough of a grade for me to roll the
van towards the main road without using the engine again.

   As I started the engine and headed off, Nan looked back towards the camp
laughing.  Her expression was one of mischievous glee, like some kid who'd
just knocked on someone's door and run off.

   "Where are we going, where are we going?" she repeated, excitedly.

   Her laughter was infectious, but I had to calm her as she bounced around
in the passenger's seat.

   "Hey!  put your seatbelt on, we can't afford to get pulled over!" I
cautioned.

   I suggested we first go into town and grab some picnic food, then find a
nice spot by a beach.  The coast around here was rocky with treacherous
tidal rips so swimming wasn't an option.

   After getting the food, she paid, we eventually found a hill called
Berrin's Kop, named after some battle in the Boer War.  It had great views
of the coast and the surrounding countryside.  It was also almost deserted.

   The weather was quite warm and we had our picnic and chatted in the
sunshine.  We later went for a walk, hand in hand, and sat on the seaward
side of a little knoll.

   The grass was about a metre high and gave us perfect privacy.  The light
breeze fluttered our clothing and brushed whispers of hair across our
faces.

   It was while I was brushing an errant lock from her face that I found
her smiling in that anticipatory way.  Half embarrassed, half expectant, we
moved together and kissed.

   She hummed, I hummed, and we moved in for another, longer one.  We fell
to the grass, our mouths moving together, that strawberry shampoo scent
filling my senses.  I could feel the little bumps of her breasts pressing
against my chest.

   Her free hand roamed down my back and came to rest on my bottom.  Her
kissing became fiercer, I felt her hot breath on my cheek.

   "Is that any way for a good Christian girl to behave?" I teased.

   "Why?" she asked me, disingenuously, "are we supposed to be boring?"

   "Pick a date that will make a good mate," I recalled one of the many
slogans on the hall wall at camp.

   "So how are we suppose to know?" she answered, smiling.

   I shrugged.

   "So do I pass?" I asked her.

   "Um...  you kiss well," she replied, making an assessment, "nice butt,
nice face...  but with sad eyes...  like a lost little puppy.  You're
skinny, I like that.  Caring...  talented...  and a little shy."

   "Shy?  Me?" I protested.

   "Yes, you almost pee'ed yourself when you asked me out."

   "Only because I thought you might say no."

   "Was it that important?" she said, suddenly serious, "aww look!  You're
blushing!" she resumed giggling.

   "Nancy, you're a lovesong," I blurted out without thinking.

   She looked at me wide-eyed with surprise.  I felt a twinge of panic,
'what a dumb thing to say,' I thought.

   "That's so sweet," Nan replied softly, "do you really think of me like
that?"

   Well I'd said it, so it was useless to recant, so I nodded slowly.

   "I...  I don't know what to say..."

   "Don't say anything," I mumbled and kissed her again.

   We rolled around in the grass till she was on top.  I got to cup the
beautiful cheeks of her bottom, exploring the contours of her tight-fitting
Levis.

   She gyrated her pelvis against me, starting a warm and stiffening
feeling in my jeans.  I stroked her sides with my hands, my thumbs pressing
against the swells of her little breasts.

   My mouth was dry and my breath was quickening with arousal.

   "It's getting cold," I panted, "do you want to sit in the van?"

   I meant the BACK of the van of course and the meaning was obvious to
her.

   "I'm not cold," smiling, she teased me again.

   "Well?"

   "There you go, all shy again," she giggled, "I'm not going to have sex
with you, ok?"

   "I didn't mean..."

   "It's alright," she said, "I'm just setting the ground rules, ok?"

   I nodded.

   "It's a little too soon, ok?"

   I nodded, again.

   "Are you disappointed?" she asked.

   "No...  not at all," I croaked a reply.

   "Liar!  But I don't mind making out...  if you want?"

   I wanted, I nodded, for a third time.

   In the van we were all over each other like a rash.  After a while I
lifted her top up to her neck, then pushed up her bra to expose her
breasts. I spent a long time kneading and sucking her little cones while
she cooed and pushed her hands up inside my shirt.

   Nan gyrated her crotch against mine sending me to new heights of lust.
While brushing her tits down my chest, she ran her hands all around my
torso, carefully avoiding my uncomfortable erection.

   She gradually worked her way down my chest, kissing every inch of my
skin.  In phoney surprise she noticed my straining jeans and gave me a
little rub.

   "Would you like me to suck you?" she whispered.

   I was surprised by the invitation, but replied,

   "I could return the favour?"

   "What?"

   "69," I ventured.

   "Oh!" she buried her head in embarrassment.

   "I...  I don't think so..." she told me shyly, "I mean I don't mind
doing guys...  um...  you...  but I've never done that..."

   "Nancy!" I said triumphantly, "just how many guys have you had?"

   "It's not like that..." she batted me, laughing, "I've had boyfriends
before."

   "How many?" I asked.

   "Well..." she replied, counting in her head, "three, but only one was
serious."

   "How serious?" I grinned.

   "I went out with him for three years...  since I was thirteen...  in
Canada."

   "Thirteen, really?  and your parents agreed?"

   "No," she replied smiling.

   "Ahhh!  a bit of a rebel eh?"

   "Zac, he was French, Quebec French.  We were very close...  I loved
him."

   I noted a hint of sadness in her voice.

   "What happened?"

   "We broke up...  he found someone else...  I came to New Zealand."

   "Is that why..."

   "No, we'd broken up months before...  just burnt each other out...  it
happens," she shrugged.

   "You still have feelings for him?" I asked her.

   "A little I guess...  but we'd never had made it...  he was totally off
the wall...  wierd.  He had no responsibility...  I've never told anyone
else about him.  You musn't tell."

   "Of course not," I protested.

   "I trust you...  funny.  I couldn't trust Zac, you see.  He'd disappear
for weeks...  I'd be frantic, than he'd suddenly turn up with a brandy and
ginger under his coat," she chuckled at the recollection.  "I never knew
where I was with him.  On again, off again...  totally at his whim.  I
couldn't take that again.  He knew my weaknesses..."

   "Such as?"

   "Lost puppies," she told me, " little lost puppies with sad little
eyes."

   "Like mine for instance?"

   "You're not like Zac," she said, firmly, "or I wouldn't be in this van
with you."

   Curiously I felt disappointed.  I had hoped that I was a carbon copy of
her lost love.

   "I don't want any more Zacs," she went on, "someone steady...  and
loving.  It's nice to be chased for a change.  Not me doing the chasing."

   Her eyes sparkled.

   "You didn't lead much of a chase," I suggested.

   "You know what I mean..." she answered shyly.

   All this time she sat perched on my crotch, my jean covered cock was
nestled snuggly between her thighs.

   "I feel...  safe with you," she continued.

   "SAFE!" I exclaimed,"ME!  Demon biker and rock and roller!  I'm
insulted!" I exclaimed in mock outrage.

   She batted at me again, saying,

   "You're SO full of shit....  and cute!"

   She arranged herself on top of me, lying along my body with her face
inches from my own.  She kissed me, once more, her tongue worming its way
past my lips seeking mine.

   After we'd finished, I asked,

   "So you're not a virgin?"

   She examined my face, grinning.

   "And now it comes," she replied, " you've been dying to ask that
question..."

   "I'm sorry...  just nosey."

   "Yes, nosey...  and no, I'm not a virgin."

   "Oh!"

   "What, disappointed?  Used goods?  I wouldn't have thought you'd care."

   "I don't!" I told her, "it's just that...  with your Christianity thing
and all...  you surprised me."

   "I don't always make the correct decision...  I don't know...  I don't
regret it one bit...  Zac was really good.  We were both nervous at
first... we lit candles...  took a bath together...  it was really great,
y'know?"

   "How old were you?" I asked her.

   Nan giggled,

   "You're going to be shocked!"

   "I will?"

   "Yes...  I was thirteen...  I was in love with him you see.  It seemed
the natural thing to do."

   "Thirteen, shit!" I said, astonished, "beats me by...  six years would
you believe."

   "You were nineteen!  Now I'm shocked.  Why?  Were you a little goody
two-shoes?"

   "Yes...  and chronically shy.  I guess that's why I took up guitar.  I
figured I could charm girls with my music.  That I didn't have to go to
them...  they would fall all over me."

   "And did it work?" Nan asked.

   "Some...  but not the ones I wanted.  THEY were always out of reach, or
someone else's girlfriend."

   "Aww, poor baby...  You never had a serious relationship?"

   "Sure...  at least I thought I had...  once.  I fell in love...  she
called me possessive and took off...  that was it."

   "The possessive type, eh?"

   "I didn't think so...  maybe I was.  Clearly she thought so."

   "I don't mind a little possessiveness...  so long as its not stifling,
you know what I mean?"

   "Yeah, I know.  I need to feel secure, that's all.  I don't like things
left up the air.  I need honesty...  then I'm happy.  Even when it hurts."

   "I feel the same way," Nan told me, " I'm glad you said that."

   'So am I,' I thought to myself.

   After another bout of passionate kissing, during which I played with her
erect nipples, her hand began to knead my dick.  One of her legs was bent
over my thighs and she was pressing her crotch against my hipbone.

   I tried to push my hand under the belt of her jeans but it was too
tight. I therefore ventured to loosen the buckle.  She didn't try to
prevent me.  As my hand crept its way into her jeans, she gasped,

   "Remember...  what I said earlier?  I don't want to go...  all the way."

   I nodded and nibbled her neck and earlobe.

   "Good!" she said quietly.

   I undid the dome of her jeans and pushed my hand onto the gusset of her
panties.  I felt the texture of her downy pubis, now warm and moist.

   Nan stiffened a little and moaned.  She began to loosen my jeans and
draw down the zipper.  At last I felt the slight coolness of the air
followed by her probing fingers as she sought out my cock.

   She lifted her bottom a little to allow me to push her jeans down to her
knees.  I did the same to her panties, at last I had full access.

   I found that gently sawing my middle figer along the length of her slit
had the most effect on her.  She gasped and moaned and pressed her body
tighter against me.  She settled her head on my shoulder, against my cheek,
and played with my dick as I fingered her.

   Her orgasm wasn't long in coming.  Her eyes became serious,
concentrating, and her breathing shallow and arriving in gulps.  Her bottom
began to rock and gyrate against my hand.

   "Yes...  keep going...  ooh," she puffed.

   She let out one long moan and clutched herself to me tightly.  She
hummed to herself a little later, giving me little pecks on whatever part
of me she could reach without effort.  All the time her hand never left my
erection, caressing, jacking, or just playing with my cock and balls.

   At one time she stroked me with the inside of her leg, her pussy left a
moist spot on my hip that I still sensed long afterwards.

   I tell you that Nancy's bottom was the finest of ever had the pleasure
of holding, even today.  Small, tight and a perfect shape, her jeans gave
only a hint of its true quality.  I have spent many hours in silent worship
of it, but hey!  I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

   Pretty soon she bent down and kissed the tip of my cock.  Flicking it
lightly with her tongue, she gradually slid it into her mouth.

   Nancy didn't 'service' me, she genuinely loved to suck cock.  I never
realised before that a woman could derive real pleasure from the process. I
just thought it was what some women did to pleasure their guys.

   I felt almost apologetic towards her as her head bobbed up and down on
my, very stiff, erection.  She held on, even after I'd signalled to her
that I wasn't long in coming.  She just gurgled and continued on her way.

   Her cool fingertips on my balls was the last straw and she sucked for
all she was worth as I pumped weeks of frustration down her throat.  My new
lover rescued every drop to my utter astonishment.

   She smacked her lips together afterwards as we grinned at each other in
a rather embarrassed fashion.  Carressing my chest she told me that we'd
better get back before they send out search parties.

   I told her I could stay this way forever, right here on this anonymous
hill overlooking the ocean.

   She joked that we would starve and I told her I didn't care.  I babbled
to her that my 'ego boundaries' had truely disappeared, or some such
rubbish, and she replied that I'd spent too much time reading boring
textbooks.

   Right then, if she'd told me never to read anything again I would have
complied willingly.  I felt absolutely in love, and lust, and adored her
with all my heart for the next six years.

   In the present, however, we were going to have to face some enormous
challenges that put us truely to the test.

   Part three follows

   Katzmarek (C)