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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N


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 Archive name: Molly.txt (M/f, pedo, mast)
 Authors name: Tom <tje@mail.nls.net>
 Story Title : "Moly and the Preacher"
 -----------------------------------------------------
 Please respond to the authors address above if you
 have comments. Thank you
 -----------------------------------------------------
       K r i s t e n's   c o l l e c t i o n 


 Molly and the Preacher
 by Tom (tje@mail.nls.net)
 
 She had a pretty, angelic face which was very young
 looking.  Her golden hair was a delight to see,
 shimmering in the sunlight. Her little girl voice
 tinkled like a wind chime in a light breeze. Her
 clothes were rather baggy at our first meeting and
 I could not tell if she was well formed or scrawny.
 She was a troubled child who came from a broken home
 and lived with her mother, who had a drug habit.  

 As the assistant pastor of the church my job was to
 deal with such difficult family problems.  Molly did
 poorly in school, although she was clearly very bright.
 And while she was not unruly, she was unfocused and out
 of touch.  Despite all this, she seemed to be a sweet
 kid and I enjoyed talking with her. We became friends.

 I thought that it would do her good to become involved
 in some structured activity with children her own age,
 so I arranged for her to attend our youth retreat.
 Every year several dozen young people from the con-
 gregation, along with a few disadvantaged youth from
 elsewhere, camped out on the church's property at Lake
 Huron.  As the assistant pastor, my job would be to
 supervise the children and see to their needs.  Molly
 was not at all excited about camping out in tents, but
 she went quietly along.

 It was a delightful day in early Summer when our bus
 filled with singing children rolled up I 75 to the
 camp north of Alpena.  Molly stood next to me as I
 drove, not singing with the others. I felt her hand on
 the back of my neck and on my head.  She stroked me as
 she stared out the front window at the oncoming,
 unending forest of northern Michigan.  It was a bit
 unnerving, but I didn't say anything.

 Finally we arrived and the kids scooted out of the bus
 with shrieks of delight into the pugent aroma of a
 cedar forest with the lake in view nearby.  Molly
 stayed behind with me as I sorted out the luggage,
 trying to help.  She was such an adorable young girl.
 As she lifted up suitcases I noticed subconsiously
 that she had small breasts under her t-shirt. I don't
 know why that thought popped into my head, but I cought
 myself watching her young body moving amoung the
 equipment and lugage and quickly returned to the task
 at hand. 

 Our work crew had already set up the camp and the
 children stood in line to be assigned their tents,
 eager to get into their swimming gear and splash in
 the cool water of Lake Huron.  It was a very busy time
 for me and Molly stood by and tried to help in whatever
 way she could, which, really, was not much.  I assigned
 her a bunk in a tent and shooed her off.  

 I did not see her again until late in the afternoon,
 when the camp counsellors gathered the children for a
 lesson in water safety.  She was clad in a two piece
 bathing suit and she was stunningly beautiful.  I 
 reminded myself that she was just twelve years old,
 but I could not tear my eyes from her.  She had the
 most exquisite, soft looking, shapely limbs.  She stood
 so proudly, her body held so straight, away from the
 other children, looking at me, smiling shyly.  

 It distressed me that I found her so physically at-
 tractive.  I stared at her upper thighs and her bare
 midrift and felt guilty.  But I continued to stare.
 In my own defense; I was just twenty five years old
 and still a virgin, and thoughts that were beyound my
 control seemed to just materialize in my minds-eye
 unbidden.

 We had a bonfire that night, after which the children
 were sent off to their bunks.  The camp still buzzed
 with their noises, even after lights out.  Then quiet
 settled over the cedar grove and I walked to the beach
 and the sound of lapping waves.  It was so peaceful as
 I nestled in the sand and breathed the smell of the
 lake.  Then Molly appeared next to me, still clad in
 her swiming garb, shivering in the coolness of the
 evening.  

 Without a word she sat down next to me and lay on the
 sand, shivering.  I had no coat to offer her and I told
 her that she should return to her tent where she would
 be warm and could sleep.  Instead, she snuggled close
 to me, her head nuzzling my shoulder, her one arm
 across my chest.  I was in a panic!  I could not
 identify her aroma, part Lake Huron, part girl, but it
 was an alluring smell to me.  I dared not touch her! 

 But I was thinking of touching her!  I got up quickly
 and went to the shore, where I waded in the water, the
 coldness of it on my feet reinforcing my discipline.
 Molly followed me and then took my hand in hers.  I
 lost my resolve, stopped, and then embraced the lovely,
 willing girl.  She buried her face in my chest as she
 clutched at me, and we stood with our feet in the
 lapping water as we hugged each other.  My mind was in
 a turmoil.  I suspected that I had fallen in love with
 her.  She was just fourteen! I told myself to no avail.
 Then, suddenly, we saw two dim figures down the beach
 walking toward us.  

 Molly scampered away and in a minute I encountered two
 counsellors on an evening stroll.  We exchanged
 pleasantries and chatted about the day's events.  When
 they left me alone I looked about.  Molly was gone.  I
 went back to my tent and felt awful.  The memory of her
 femaleness urged me to masturbate, but I resisted.  In
 divinity school I had a large sign on my wall which
 stated "DON'T".  I had masturbated, of course, more
 than I would like to admit, but it always left me with
 remorse and shame.  I masturbated that night and did
 not sleep well afterwards.

 The next morning upon awakening my first thought was
 to resign, to leave the camp, the church, and go else-
 where.  I thought that I should find a good woman and
 marry her.  My feelings for Molly, however, were
 obsessive.  I wondered how she would dress that day.
 How soon would I see her.  Then I saw her, standing
 outside my tent looking in.  She was clad in shorts
 and a blouse, barefoot.  She stood there and stared at
 me.  I could not bear the sight of this exquisite young
 beauty; it was too painful for me.  Still I looked at
 her lovliness, resisting illicit, shameful thoughts.

 For the rest of the day I coped, but almost in a
 trance.  Molly seemed always to be within ten feet of
 me, staring at me, her young flesh enticing. I so
 wanted to kiss her pouty lips, so expressive, although
 I fought the notion of doing such a thing.  I knew that
 she would let me do that and more, much more.  The
 little girl was infatuated with me in her innocence,
 and I knew that I loved her.

 That night, when the camp was silent and I lay awake
 on my cot, Molly entered my tent, as I knew and feared
 she would.  I was resolved to resist my feelings for
 her and not take advantage of the little girl.  She
 stood close by my cot and looked down on me with an
 expression that was neither happy nor sad.  It was a
 look of wonder that I could not comprehend.  She knelt
 on the floor next to my cot and just stared at me, her
 face inches from mine.

 Her lips were slightly apart and I could see the tips
 of her upper teeth, white and even. I did not know what
 motivated her, what she saw in me, but I was in real
 physical pain because of her; my throat ached, and my
 erection was agony it's self. 

 I got up from the cot and pulled her to her feet.  My
 fingers tingled at the touch of her bare arm.  I told
 her that it was time for sleep, that we needed our
 rest.  The girl leaned against my body, her arms at
 her side, her head on my chest.  Her lovely golden hair
 tickled my chin, and again I smelled her aroma.  I
 dared not touch her, but she touched me.  She placed
 her hands on my shoulders for leverage, leaned up and
 pressed her mouth against mine.  That kiss was so in-
 nocent, so inexperienced; her lips were slack and un-
 puckered.  I did not kiss back, despite my desire.  

 I placed my hands on her pale cheeks and gently
 seperated us.  She smiled quickly into my face,
 radiantly.  I had never seen her more beautiful.
 Then she left my tent.  She never spoke a word
 during her visit to me, which seemed to have lasted
 forever, but was over, in fact, in just a few minutes.

 The next morning I realized that Molly was my girl,
 although I did not have a clue about what I was to do
 with her.  My first thought was a mental calculation:
 in less than six years she would be of legal age, and
 I would be just thirty. I was thinking of marriage.
 Then I scolded myself at my naivete; her infatuation
 would certainly not last the Summer.  Still, I looked
 about for her in camp. In fact, I followed her around,
 gazing at the lovely softness of her young body.  She
 knew when I was near and always turned her head and
 smiled at me.  I was totally smitten.

 That night it was quite warm and I lay on the sand
 listening to the waves lap the shore, knowing that
 Molly would find me.  It was after midnight and no one
 was about.  Molly quietly lay down beside me and I
 felt happy that she had come.  She nestled to me and
 I put my arm around her, feeling the warmth of her
 skin through her blouse as I stroked her back.  I felt
 free to touch her without guilt or remorse.  I could
 kiss her and feel her flesh, because my love for her
 entitled me to.  My confusion and frustrations resulted
 in such a rationalization: there was no objective
 morality, just love.  

 I had planned nothing, nor did I have a goal.  I would
 let Molly love me however she wanted and ask nothing
 of her in return.  I placed my hand on her upper arm
 and was aroused by the softness of her flesh.  She
 raised her head from my chest and looked into my eyes.
 Then she kissed me. I did not push her away. I taught
 her how to kiss properly.  For uncounted minutes our
 lips were pressed together and then, tentatively, my
 tongue darted out and touched her lips.  Her tongue
 immediately met mine and our kissing became even more
 intensely passionate.  She was lying half on top of me
 by this time, with my arms around her. 

 Her blouse had pulled up somewhat and I found my hand
 on the bare skin of her lower back.  As we kissed I ran
 my hand up under her blouse and fondled her back all
 the way to her shoulder.  My thumb poked at her side
 and she raised herself slightly so that I could cup her
 left breast.  It was small but almost filled my hand.
 I felt its hard nipple tickle my palm.  I had never
 before felt such erotic softness.  Still kissing, I
 rolled the little girl onto her back so I could explore
 her nreasts more easily.  I quickly unbuttoned her
 blouse and saw in the moonlight her firm mounds sur-
 mounted by roseate tips.  I broke the kiss and rushed
 my mouth to suckle the soft lovliness of her pubescent
 breasts.  She fondled my head and mewled.  

 As I ravished her nipples my hand dared to find its way
 to her thighs, touching one, kneading it high up near
 her shorts.  I was so aroused that I suddenly had an
 orgasm and messed my undershorts.  As I groaned, my
 mouth on a nipple, I clutched her groin and tried to
 give my Molly pleasure with my fingers.  I was not in
 the correct spot and the girl pulled my hand higher as
 we writhed in sexual excitment.  I raised my head to
 hers and we resumed kissing as I masturbated the little
 girl.  She gasped and then cried out into my mouth as
 I fingered her to an orgasm.  Finally we quit and I
 held her lovingly in my arms.  We fell soundly asleep
 after that first sexual experience for the both of us
 and awoke shortly before dawn.  We then kissed some
 more, looked into each other's face and pleged love
 words.

 Two years later we were married.

 If you liked the story let the author know at this
 address: Tom <tje@mail.nls.net>

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
     (PROTECT THE CHILDREN, THEY ARE OUR FUTURE)
No one in their right mind would really do anything that
was 'described' in the above story.  The content of this
text was included in the 'archive' because it was a work
of erotica, and *not* because anyone *condones* sex with
minors. UNDERSTAND?!
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        K r i s t e n's   C o l l e c t i o n