SteamyStories

Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First Time.

By the time Halloween rolled around, I was in a better mood. I'd gotten a job at the Admissions Department, which was just a five-minute walk from the Student's Cooperative where I'd found a room for less than half of what I was paying for the dorm overflow apartment. As Suki described it before she passed on applying for a vacancy, it was "like a bunch of goddamn hippies took over a frat house!" I didn't mind it so much. People were nice there and it felt more like a home than an apartment or dorm complex did. Even better, the house had a massive kitchen.

Surprising everyone who knew him, Kurt actually got his shit together. He got a job as a waiter at a local French Bistro, which was perfect because chatting up customers was effortless for him, and as long as he delivered the right food, people loved him. He also got a phone and enrolled in extension courses with a Fine Arts major. At the end of the November, he was going to start renting a room at the same Co-Op where I lived.

Quite by accident, I'd also gotten a second job. With the low rent at the Co-Op, I didn't really need it, but still; I loved it.

I was such a good girlfriend to Paul that I would bring over extra meals for him, in case he didn't like what was being served on the house meal plan that week. Conveniently enough, they were also things Paul could microwave and bring upstairs to Kurt to eat in the room. During the trip up the stairs, the smell of these meals wafted through the entire house, and then the guys would go downstairs for dinner and find out, much to their disappointment, that they didn't get to eat what they had smelled all the way down. The week I brought over a container of sausage-stuffed ravioli with a spinach-alfredo sauce and toasted pine nuts scattered on top, I received an email the next day:

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Invoice Request.

Dear Ms. Palmberg,

The container of sausage ravioli you stored in our refrigerator for Paul's use this week was appropriated and consumed by the Sigma Phi Epsilon house members in a dishonorable act of insurrection. As Chapter President, you have my most profound apologies for this abominable behavior. Please kindly provide an itemized invoice for your costs and services and I will ensure that Sigma Phi Epsilon compensates you accordingly.

Yours truly,

Timothy Bradbury.

Chapter President, Sigma Phi Epsilon, University of Minnesota

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Chapter President Tim was about the only person who would call a bunch of guys eating someone's lunch a "dishonorable act of insurrection." While it was flattering and annoying that I'd have to get another batch of stuff ready for Kurt to eat that week, it wouldn't be that hard to whip something up. I just didn't want him living off junk food or whatever he could sneak at work.

I brought over a quick batch of stroganoff with leeks and shiitake mushrooms over egg noodles to the SigEp house. Tim opened the door before I rang the bell, looking down his nose into my dish of stroganoff. "I don't eat mushrooms," he said.

"Good thing you're not an insurrectionist, then. You don't have to eat it."

Tim raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms across his chest. "Paul doesn't eat them, either," he said pointedly.

Blithely ignoring him, I marched into the house and went down the stairs to the kitchen, sliding the dish into the usual spot in the refrigerator. As I closed the door to the fridge, I backed into Tim's solid frame. I wondered if he was trying to prove something after I had body-checked him earlier. Not letting my amusement show, I turned and looked up at him in surprise. "Do you have an itemized invoice for me?" he asked.

"What? Oh, no; no big deal. It's just some ravioli. Guys get hungry," I said, walking around him and washing the empty dish that had once held the pillaged ravioli.

"Yes, they do. Our current vendor provides meals that cause many of the members to prefer hunger. If your dishes were more wholesome, I'd consider engaging your services to provide the house meals on a more lawful basis," he said dryly, taking the clean dish from me and wiping it with a towel nearby.

"Wholesome? Like what?"

Tim looked at me as if sizing me up, and then gave me an order for two dinners in the next week for all 20 guys. They had to be nutritionally balanced, accommodate the allergies he sent me on a list, be hot and ready at their dinner time, and there could be only few leftovers. Oh -- and I had to stay within the budget Tim gave me and give him an itemized invoice when it was all done.

The cooking part was easy. I'd been feeding large groups of people ever since I was in middle school -- potluck dinners at the local churches were a major draw where I grew up. The dinners came and went precisely on time and I took home empty dishes each night, along with a list of things the guys asked me to make for them in the future. What's more, I easily came in far under the budgets I was given. The only thing was, predictably, Chapter President Tim was a major ball buster about the invoices.

From: timbradbury@ UMN.EDU

To: melaniepalmberg@ UMN.EDU

Subject: Invoice Request.

Dear Ms. Palmberg,

Your most recent submission for the Pad Mee Kow was a most delightful piece of literary non-fiction. It was not, however, an itemized invoice. Please see me at your earliest convenience.

Yours truly,

Timothy Bradbury. Chapter President, Sigma Phi Epsilon, University of Minnesota

Wondering what kind of college guy used a business signature on his emails, I trudged over there to get my money. Tim answered the door in an almost chipper mood. "Ah, Welcome to Sigma Phi Epsilon. I am Tim Bradbury, Chapter President. Whom have you come to see? Your; boyfriend?" he asked wearing his version of a smirk. I was beginning to suspect Tim and his wall-sharing bedroom knew the truth about my relationship with Paul.

"No, I want my money, Pad Mee Now," I said, rolling my eyes at him.

"I, somehow, have trouble believing that. If you really wanted the money, I would think you would have submitted an itemized invoice by now," he said with an imperious raised eyebrow. Then, he turned and walked into the living room, leading me to his study sofa where he had half a dozen documents spread out on the coffee table that looked like they would probably annoy me. I was right. "This," he said, picking up one of the documents and handing it to me "is an itemized invoice. Note, how it lists individually the costs and amounts of the items being charged for therein?"

"What?" I said, scanning the anal-retentive document, "You want me to tell you how many cans of tomatoes, how many cloves of garlic and; "

"Yes; at first. Once I am confident you are maintaining an appropriate knowledge of your inventory and costs, I will rely on your representations of the food costs in one item. Also, your submission to me included neither your non-food costs such as your omnipresent Ziplock containers, nor your travel and labor fees. You cannot expect to run a business without paying yourself."

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. "I; I am not running a business! I'm just feeding some guys, Tim! Why do I have to do all this stuff?" I asked through my fingers.

"Because, your customer has requested that you provide him with an itemized invoice prior to payment," he said, smiling proudly at the documents spread in front of him like they were his children. "Here is a table that shows how you should decide on how much to pay yourself; and here is a primer on the amortization of your business capital investments; and ah; let's see; taxes;" he murmured, looking up at me and then his eyes widened at my apparently murderous expression. "Perhaps, we'll do taxes later;" he said, actually grinning now.

"Tim;" I moaned, slumping back into the sofa.

Tim spoke loftily to the documents as he tidied them before placing them into a crisp manila folder labeled with my name, "Whether you realize it or not, you are running a business. These are things you will need to learn, in order to run it successfully," he said, handing me the folder.

I took it, wondering what in the hell I had gotten myself into. "Why are you doing this?" I asked him, dumbfounded. Most of the things he was telling me about would only raise the price on the meals I provided to the house. Money-wise, it made no sense.

He paused for a moment, then spoke softly to the notes he was arranging on the coffee table as he put them away, "It is what I can do; and it is the right thing to do," he said, then turned his head to look at me, "and at any rate, the last time you were not properly taken care of, I was surprised to find myself briefly airborne before hitting a wall. I thought this option would better preserve the fraternity's historically significant building." He looked at me for a few seconds, nodded once, then turned back to the table and opened his textbook, "Please get your revised invoice to me within the week," he said.

Feeling dismissed, I shrugged, shook my head, took my manila folder and left. Tim was an odd duck, no doubt, and he had just given me a hell of a lot of crappy paperwork to do. Still, as I walked back to the Co-Op, I couldn't really put a finger on how I was feeling; but I liked it.

"I need you to help me with my homework," Kurt appeared behind me from out of nowhere as I was hovering over a pot of minestrone. His hand rubbed the knotted muscles in the center of my back, and I found myself pressing back against him, melting.

"Which class?" I asked suspiciously, having fallen for this particular trick of Kurt's before.

"It's like you don't even trust me at all," he said, a smile in his voice. "Drawing, of course."

"Okay; but I get to see it when you're done; I don't want anything recognizable of mine to show up on display in the student union."

"Oh, ye of little faith;" he said, pulling me away from the stove after I turned the heat down and put a lid on the pot. "I thought we'd go for a change of scenery, this time," he said, pulling me away from the stairs where I was going up towards my room where I had modeled for him before. He led me to a door to a room I'd never seen anyone use. Opening it, a dusty dark space filled with large industrial-looking equipment was revealed with a familiar air mattress laid out on the floor. "I wanted something a little more moody this time. Your room is so; well; you," he said, smiling as he bent down to nuzzle my neck.

I sneezed. Then I looked up at him to see if he was joking. Yeah, no, he wasn't. I sighed and began taking off my clothes. At least, the room was warm, I thought, as I padded naked to the air mattress. "How do you want me?" I whispered, wondering if we could be overheard from the hall outside.

"On your stomach, calves bent up at the knees, ankles crossed, up on your elbows and looking over your shoulder at me," he said, his eyes greedily taking me in. Choosing a place to sketch from, he paused to move some of my long blonde hair to my back, trailing his hand down to caress my bottom. "Perfect," he whispered, beginning to sketch quickly.

I loved it when he sketched me. His eyes moved over me, full of warmth and ideas fueled by the enjoyment of what he saw. "So; are you making bread for them, too? These other men of yours?" he asked in mock jealously, his eyes twinkling.

"Well yeah, I have to. Minestrone isn't filling enough without it, and bread is cheap. Besides, there's trouble when I try to make it heartier with extra beans;" I said, shaking my head remembering Tim's raised eyebrow when we heard an "ungentlemanly" contest erupt in the TV room upstairs, as he helped me dry the dishes for the baked beans and sausages that I'd brought.

"Don't move," he said, putting my hair back where he had placed it before. "That's not all they talk about, you know," he said, tilting his head and letting his eyes roam down my back, settling on my bottom. A flush of warmth went through me. "They seem to think you deserve better;" he said.

"Better than Paul?" I asked, squeezing my thighs together surreptitiously, trying to relieve the need I felt building inside me. "Well, fortunately, I agree with them," I said, giggling.

With a growl, Kurt closed his sketchpad and lay down beside me on his back, "You belong on a chaise lounge in the Palace of Versailles and without a word of complaint, you pose for me in a boiler room; you're beyond worth. You deserve a king," he said, smiling up at me.

"And fortunately, my king; I agree with you, too " I whispered, leaning down to kiss him, running my fingers through his soft hair. I shivered, feeling his hands run lightly up my sides, coming to rest on my tits. I felt his mouth begin sucking on my hard nipple and I moaned, my head dropping back onto my shoulders. Before long, I was panting, squirming for relief from the throbbing heat building inside me. "Kurt; did you get the; the non-latex, you know; condoms?" I breathed, deciding that our mutual punishment had gone on long enough.

Kurt released my nipple with a pop and groaned, "No, fuck; I forgot. I've been too busy thinking about making love to you again. The student union only has the latex kind. I've got an idea, though. Lie on your back," he said, bounding up, eyes alight with inspiration again. Obeying, I turned onto my back, but instead of taking off his clothes or going down between my knees, he stood there looking at me. "Okay; left hand by your head, loosely near your eyes; just like that," he said positioning my arm.

I whimpered, getting myself ready for another torture session of seeing his eyes devouring me without actually making me come. Much to my relief and chagrin, I was wrong. "Now the other;" he said, as he separated my knees, and then placed my other hand between my legs. Then, he picked up his sketchpad again and looked up at me expectantly.

"You want me to;" I squeaked, turning bright red.

"Well, I know that you know how; I taught you," he said, eyes eager, grinning wickedly.

"Yeah, but; it was dark; and you were behind me; you weren't watching; and; "

"Oh, I was watching," he assured me, "I had it on a loop replay in my head all night. I could draw how you looked that night perfectly from memory, right now;"

I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned. Peeking out of one eye and seeing him still watching me like a dog waiting for a treat, I closed it again and began to move my fingers around my clit. Though I was aroused, painfully so, I just couldn't get my head into what I was doing enough to bring myself anywhere close to a peak. "Kurt, it's just not working; " I said, opening my eyes to see him staring at me transfixed with his mouth slightly open," I whispered, feeling a hook catch somewhere inside me, sending me speeding toward my peak. It was him. I needed to see him, how I affected him, how much he wanted me. It was what drove me, what pulled me. I could have been across a crowded auditorium and seeing his unabashed look of pure lust for me would have dragged me fully clothed toward an impossible orgasm.

"Kurt!" I gasped, my back arching against my will and I began panting, frantically driving myself towards release.

"Stop!" he said, standing suddenly. I obeyed without thinking, without wanting to, squeezing my thighs together and keening in desperate disappointment. He walked over and his long legs straddled mine, still standing. Opening his pants and taking his erection out, he began stroking it over me. "Start again; slowly," he said, running his hand back and forth, caressing himself.

Jumping at the first contact of my fingers, I began rubbing around my clit again, almost crying in relief. "Slide two of them inside yourself, now. Show me how wet you are," he ordered, his voice now commanding in his need. Dipping deeply with a breathy moan, I pulled out and wiggled my slippery fingers at him. I loved having him tell me what to do. I loved waiting for his directions, watching his organ grow larger and more turgid.

"Now, put them inside yourself again; no, not there;" he said, his voice curling with excitement as I began to slide them back inside my dripping pussy. I blinked. "You know where I want them; show me, just go slowly and relax. You'll be okay," he said, rubbing himself faster, breathing harder.

I closed my eyes and reached lower, pressing my slippery fingers against my anus. When Kurt had done this to me before, I'd been frightened and tense. It hurt worse than anything I'd ever known I could feel; until I relaxed and pushed against him. Making myself relax, I pushed my fingers inside a little. My eyes opened at the flash of pain, making me bite my lips to stay silent. Tears welled in my eyes, but I kept the fingers inside. "Use your other hand on your clit; keep going; God, you're so beautiful;" he panted.

Pushing against my fingers, I felt myself open wider and I pushed deeper crying out in surprise at the sensation. Kurt moaned, his eyes fixed on what I was doing. Remembering my clit, I was surprised to find how close I was and felt the sensations I was giving myself mix together and become an overwhelming force. I began stroking my fingers in and out of my ass and the raw feeling drove me over the edge and I arched under him, crying out. As my body clenched and trembled, I felt warm spurts of Kurt's semen fall first on my tummy, then my neck and tits, finally in a burst onto my upper thighs and pubic hair.

Kurt stood over me shaking, still holding himself, and leaning against the wall with the other hand. His eyes roamed over me in abject adoration. "Now, don't move;" he breathed, tucking himself back in and sitting down again with his sketchbook.

I lay there spent on the boiler room floor, languishing in the swirling delight of my orgasm, my face surely the picture of satisfaction and contentment as his pencil flew over page after page of his sketchbook until I protested that I had to put the bread in to bake for that night's fraternity dinner. He sighed reluctantly and threw my clothes to me, still watching and sketching as I dressed.

When I finished dressing, he put his arms around me and kissed me, smiling as he did. As I looked into his face, wondering about his smile, I felt him begin silently laughing. On a hunch, I grabbed his sketchbook to make sure I would be able to show my face at the student union in the future, paging through what he had been working on. As always, his sketches were beautiful, practically alive. They virtually leapt off the page, making you forget that they were only pencil drawings. I was, again, amazed at his talent. Kurt was softly laughing out loud, now, watching my reaction with immense enjoyment.

I sighed, shaking my head, still staring at his artwork. "Kurt. You fucker. These are all landscapes," I said, my lips pressed tightly together in the vain hope that I could keep myself from laughing.

"Well, yes; but you really helped!" he insisted, wiping the tears of hilarity onto his sleeve. "Yes?"

"I didn't say anything;" I said, quickly. In truth, I had been practicing how to get through the coming conversation with Tim, but no actual words had come out of my mouth.

"You were hovering. You typically do not hover unless you want to ask for something you think I will decline," he said, turning a page in his textbook.

"Oh, well, I took care of that problem. I just do it anyway and then charge it as something healthy on my invoice," I said, flumping down into a nearby sofa.

Tim looked over and raised an eyebrow at me as I smirked. "Thank you for admitting to your petty fraud. Is that why I am paying for so many "lentils" on your invoices?"

"What? No! Those are legit. I should actually charge more than I do for lentils, since they get cooked twice," I said. "I boil them and then spread out the meat in things with ground beef and stuff like that. You cook it right and they just disappear into the other flavors. Makes it seem

Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First Time.

Warm and safe, the love of my life inside me and wrapped around me, I slept the blissful sleep of the newly-deflowered. I dreamed I was running through the streets in a downpour, the water drenching me, but I was almost weightless and practically flew along on my swift bare feet without fear of harm. The rain stopped suddenly, and I was alone at the base of a majestic temple, a mountain of stairs leading to pillars that were shrouded in darkness.

With barely a thought, I climbed the stairs and found myself at the top next to one of the stone columns. The darkness was alive, nervous, convincing me of things that were there and not there at the same time. I pressed my face against the stone pillar, its cold smoothness reassuring me that it had no surprises for me; it had no life. Then, out of the darkness, I heard footsteps approaching. The sound echoing on the stone edifices around me, it felt like the footsteps were coming from everywhere at once.

I felt a slight tickle, a warm wiggling itch, begin to dance over the bare skin of the back of my neck. I bent my head back to rub it against my shoulder, but the itch only seemed to spread. The footsteps were closer, their finely shod sound crisp and perfect, but still impossible to locate. The pillar was real, so I held onto it more tightly, the comforting coolness seeping into me. The itch had spread over my shoulders and down my bare torso, but I told myself that it wasn't real. It couldn't hurt me.

Then, an enormous hand was placed on the column by my head. Its size took up nearly all of my field of vision. Its skin was an angry red, festering blisters covering it. I closed my eyes, feeling the owner of the hand standing close behind me. I tried to breathe, but it felt like something invisible was slowly choking me. I felt hands curl around my hips, pulling them back from the column. I clung to it more fiercely, closing my eyes and telling myself it wasn't real. "You came back to me," a low crackling voice rasped behind me. I felt heat radiating from it, burning me where it held my hips, but it wasn't real.

The thing behind me spread my legs further apart, stopping them from closing again with enormous hoof-like feet. It was just a bad dream, I told myself. I always woke up from these dreams before anything really hurt me. Then, I saw an enormous scabbed appendage appear between my legs, searching upward between my thighs, tickling me with its burning, brushing touches. My breath could only come into my lungs with a wheeze, desperately pulling it in, as if the air was thick and sludge-like.

My eyes were closed so tightly, I was sure I couldn't open them again if I tried. I knew what was going to happen. The creature only had one purpose for me. I felt the appendage push into my opening, and with a jerk, it impaled me on its massive burning cock. My feet left the ground and it held me in front of it, thrusting into me again and again. Fire coursed through my body, burning, itching and stinging everywhere it went, as the being pounded himself into me again and again, roaring my name with each invading thrust, "Melanie! Melanie! Melanie!!!!"

I awoke in a haze. I felt a mask pressed over my mouth and nose, pinching me. I tried to push it away, but my arms wouldn't move. "She's waking up," a man's voice said. "Melanie, can you hear me? We're taking you to the hospital. Squeeze my hand if you can hear what I'm saying."

I became aware of my arms, wrapped against my body on a narrow stretcher bed. I squeezed the hand I felt holding mine. "Melanie, you're in an ambulance. Your roommate called 911 because you were having trouble breathing. We think you're going into anaphylaxis -- that you're having a severe allergic reaction. Do you have any allergies? Squeeze my hand once for yes, two for no."

I squeezed the hand once, but I couldn't think how my allergy to balloons mattered. I hadn't seen any at the party; the party; the fountain; the rain; As I began to fall asleep again, I felt a jab in my thigh and heard the voice telling me more things, asking me questions that didn't matter. I slept.

I woke again in a hospital bed to the sound of soft guitar music next to me, then I heard Kurt's voice singing barely louder than a whisper:

I love lilacs and avocados,
Ukuleles and fireworks.
And purple ponies and walking in the snow,
But you've got to know.

You're the love of my life.
You are the love of my life.
You are the love of my life.
You are the love of my life.

From the moment I first saw you,
I knew, I knew it right away.
I knew that you were the love of my life,
Quite simply the love of my life.
I love Lucy and pumpernickel bread,
The Statue of Liberty and standing ovations.
And falling into bed,
But get it through your head.

You're the love of my life.
You are the love of my life.
You are the love of my life.
You are the love of my life.

From the moment I first saw you,
I knew, I knew it right away.
I knew that you were the love of my life,
Quite simply the love of my life.

You can drive me crazy,
You can drive me anywhere.
Here are the keys,
Just do as you please.
It may not always be easy,

But you're the love of my life,
My heart is riding on a runaway train.
You are the love of my life,
Through all the pleasure and pain.

From the moment I first saw you,
I knew, I knew it right away.
I knew that you were the love of my life,
Simply the love of my life.
You are the love,
The great love of my life.

"Carly Simon;" I rasped when the music trailed off, my throat sore and scratchy. "I love that song."

Kurt smiled and closed his eyes, nodding with a sigh of relief. "My mom sang it to me a lot when I was a kid. How do you feel?"

I began to answer, when I heard noises outside the door. "She's allergic to balloons, but it's never been this bad before! How did this happen? I want to; "

"Mrs. Palmberg, I'll need to talk with Melanie privately for a moment, if you could please wait in the lobby; " a woman's calm voice answered my frantic mother.

"No! I will not wait in the lobby! I am her mother! She could have died! You're her doctor and I have a right to; "

The doctor spoke even more quietly, "I agree with you. When she was under the age of 18, you were responsible for making all medical decisions and it was only appropriate that you be given all pertinent information. Now that she is an adult, though it may seem strange, we need to respect the laws that give her the right to privacy and allow her to decide upon her care and with whom we discuss her situation. Please, Mrs. Palmberg, this won't take long at all, but it would really help me treat your daughter if you could wait in the lobby. We will call you into the room the moment she asks us to."

I heard my mother's annoyed hissing sigh, a sound I had learned to dread since childhood, then the sound of her stomping away. Embarrassed at the scene she had made, I looked up at Kurt and shrugged ruefully, but his eyes were far away thinking. "You're allergic to balloons;" he said, looking uneasy, almost stricken.

The harried-looking doctor walked into the room before I could ask what was wrong. Kurt excused himself, squeezing my hand before he left. The doctor closed the door of the room before sitting down in a tall chair by a portable desk, reading the screen of her laptop. "I'm Dr. Christine Dahl, Melanie. I was on duty when they brought you in last night with edema, hives, and difficulty breathing. The EMT administered an epinephrine shot on route to the hospital, which probably saved your life. Your labs indicate you've had a severe histamine reaction. Do you know what you might have been exposed to that triggered it?"

I had to think about what she was saying for a while before understanding her. She sat stiffly, staring at her computer as she spoke. She was using clinical terms instead of trying to use simpler words that most people would understand. It was obvious she was upset about something and was using the words as a wall. "Um; I only know that I'm allergic to balloons, but I didn't blow any up or even see any last night. Besides, they really only make my lips get swollen and a few blisters sometimes. It's not that bad. Nothing like this."

"Were you exposed to any other materials that contained latex?" she asked, still not looking up from the screen.

"I don't;" I said, not really knowing what she could be talking about. As far as I knew, I was just allergic to balloons.

"Your reaction was indicative of a prolonged exposure to an allergen, most likely more than just skin contact. It is more indicative that the proteins of your allergen were introduced through an open wound," she said, raising her eyebrows as she talked to the screen in front of her. "Were you sexually intimate tonight?" she asked.

Oh my God. I had just lost my virginity and now I had to talk about my girl parts with a doctor? Begging for a quick death, I stammered "I don't; understand what;"

"Balloons are made from latex, a derivative of the rubber tree. You are allergic to latex which is used in many products, not just balloons," she said, angry for reasons I couldn't understand. "You should have been told this for your own safety when the latex allergy was discovered. This should have been addressed when you discussed birth control methods with your doctor. Hasn't your gynecologist ever discussed; "

"I haven't; I don't have a; one of those doctors. Umm; my mom said that I didn't need to do that until after I was married," I stammered.

Dr. Dahl closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, finally met my eyes, the anger in her face was slowly being replaced with something like pity. "Melanie, you were brought in with severe hives and swelling in the genital area. The reaction was mostly likely caused by contact with a latex condom." She watched and nodded briefly as the look of realization on my face and my attempt to disappear under the covers of the bed confirmed her suspicions. "There were also several lacerations; small cuts; in the area. Those can happen during sex that is vigorous, when there is a size difference between the partners, when a woman is not sufficiently aroused prior to penetration, or when the woman has not been intimate before," she said. "In this case, those lacerations are probably how the latex proteins were introduced into your bloodstream, causing the more severe anaphylactic reaction. You've stabilized, so we can send you home. I'm prescribing you an anti-histamine to use for the next week, a cream to use to relieve the hives, and two epi pens that you should keep with you if this ever happens again. In the future you will need to use polypropylene or other non-latex condoms. I would advise you to avoid lambskin, though, because they don't protect you from viral transmissions, such as HIV."

The most uncomfortable conversation of my life continued for what felt like an eternity. I could barely bring myself to say the names of the body parts that would require creams and what to watch for as the swelling and hives went down. All I knew was that the horrible stinging burning sensation in my nethers would fade to itching and then eventually to a blessed normal feeling that I had not appreciated enough when I had it. Then, since Dr. Dahl took personal offense at being made to explain things to ex-virgins during the first few weeks of school "every goddamn year," she took it upon herself to give me the basics of female health and sexual responsibility, along with a handful of pamphlets that I would make certain my mother didn't get a chance to see.

My parents drove me back to the apartment and offered again to bring me back home so they could care for me, which I refused repeatedly. "Look, it was just an accident," I assured them, "I'll know in the future to avoid surgical gloves when I have a cut on my lip," I lied, hoping they wouldn't notice that I could barely walk without discomfort. I kissed them goodbye in the street because Dad didn't want to pay for parking, and took my things up to the apartment. I entered, half-expecting to see Kurt waiting for me while Suki, my lifesaving roommate, flipped through TV channels faster than any sane person would, but it was silent and empty inside. There were no messages on my phone, making me realize that yet again Kurt and I had not exchanged contact information. Feeling bereft, I showered and went to bed, planning to look for a job the next day.

The next morning, I padded out to the kitchenette and took a banana from the fruit bowl and made coffee. Suki was flipping through channels, giving each of the perky news personalities only a fraction of a second to pitch their shows to her. "Hey! You wanna watch anything; oh perfect for you! Itchy and Scratchy!" she said, putting the TV on The Simpsons. Tossing the remote aside, she walked up and leaned over the counter grinning while watching me putter around the kitchen. "So; how're ya feeling?"

"Umm; better, thanks," I said, pouring her a glass of milk and mixing in some Ovaltine. "Thanks for; you know, calling for help, too," I said, putting the glass in front of her. "What happened? How did you; " I began.

Suki snorted, "Mel, you were swollen, red, and wheezing in your sleep. You looked like a blood sausage. Mr. Six Used Condoms in the Empty Kleenex Box was nowhere to be seen. He came back with ice cream just after they'd taken you away," she said, putting her silicone straw into the Ovaltine and drinking half the glass.

"Blood sausage isn't really red. It's more of a brownish black, actually," I murmured.

"Uh huh;" she said, tilting her head to look at me sideways. "Yeah; cuz I really wanted to talk about blood sausage after all that. My virgin roommate bangs a guy she meets at a frat party six times, nearly dies, and then I have to throw the guy out again before her parents; "

"Kurt came back here? He was at the hospital when I woke up, but he left when the doctor came and I didn't see him after that. What did he say? Why; "

"Oh yeah, fuckboy showed up again, but he was completely blitzed. There was no way I was letting that mess in or cleaning up whatever he left. I told him to take a hike and call you when he sobered up. Are you really into that? I woulda thought you; "

"He doesn't have my number, Suki! How am I supposed to; " I bit my lips and tried to calm down. It wasn't Suki's fault. Why would Kurt have gotten; whatever 'blitzed' meant; right after he left the hospital? How would we find each other again this time? I sighed, reasoning that Kurt knew where I lived, so at least he could show up at the apartment, now. We had shared an incredible night together. We were in love. I was sure I'd hear from him soon.

But I didn't. I gingerly walked to the student union, always looking over my shoulder or craning my neck around corners, hoping that Kurt would be there, but he wasn't. I applied for a few campus jobs within walking distance that paid well enough and fit my personality. I picked up my used textbooks at the bookstore, but there was no sign of a lanky guy with kind eyes anywhere. I checked the student directory to see if I could find him that way, but there was no registration for Kurt Sorenson or Kurt Wyman.

I returned to the apartment and invented reasons that I needed to be sitting by the window looking outside for the rest of the day. My newly deflowered mind came up with reason after reason for why Kurt didn't come to me, each of them belonging to the plot of a bad romantic comedy. I couldn't even plan my day because I was worried that I would miss him if he came to the apartment. I knew how pathetic I was being and it made me sick, but I just couldn't stop myself. There was nothing romantic about being vigorously deflowered and then left alone with nothing but your thoughts for days afterward.

Other thoughts began to creep into my mind as the days passed without any sign of Kurt, thoughts that came to me in my mother's voice. Well, why would he come back? He got what he came for didn't he? Six times on the first date. Men never want you once they've had you, you know. It's just biology. He probably has quite a few other girls to visit before he gets around to you again; if he gets around to you again. They're probably thinner than you, too.

After about a week of this, Suki staged a gentle intervention. "You've been sitting around here every day doing nothing while you're made up like a fucking supermodel and it's killing my dracaena trifasciata!" she yelled, waving at the plant I had moved to the floor from my window sill perch.

"I thought that was plastic;" I mumbled.

"It is!" she yelled. "You're killing a goddamn plastic plant with this bullshit! Now go wipe that stuff off your face, go to food services and work your way through a pint of frozen yogurt and find someone else to fuck like a normal person!"

I had no reason to argue, much less any spirit, so I did. Makeup-less for the first time in 160 hours, I wandered over to the food services building, filled up the large cup with chocolate soft serve, put on all the unhealthy toppings, and sat down at a table alone. When the uneaten fro-yo had melted into a poop emoji in front of my unmoving eyes, Kurt's cousin Paul slid down next to me with a tray carrying two baskets of French fries. "Melanie, I thought I'd never find you. Look; " he cut off as another guy joined us at the table. Paul paused, then slumped back low in his chair, spreading his knees wide. "So uh, it was good to see you again at the party; you have a good time?" he asked, casually dipping a fry into my melting fro-yo.

Confused at Paul's sudden change in demeanor, I just blinked at him, then nodded. I looked up at the other guy who met my eyes, smiled and nodded once, extended his hand to me which I took numbly. He shook my limp hand in a firm grip, said "Tim," and then sat down and began eating a tuna sandwich and reading something he'd written on a notepad.

Paul's eyes darted to Tim and back to me, "So, uh, yeah; we should catch up sometime soon. We'll do some Netflix in my room. Your pick. Why don't you come by the house tonight?" he asked, leaning forward and stroking my back as he dipped another fry into the fro-yo poop emoji.

I thought about the offer. I was a cast-aside slut. I was a used condom shoved in an empty tissue box. I didn't want to be seen. I didn't want to make awkward chit-chat with Paul. I just wanted to go back to the apartment and sleep for the next three years. "I; I have to study," I said, quietly.

"Even better. You'll study, I'll pick the movie," he said, smoothly. Paul was always smooth. Tim looked up from his notes, looking darkly at Paul before he glanced at me and returned to his reading. "Besides, I think you forgot something at the party," Paul said in a low voice, rolling his eyes when I finally looked up at him, "something you probably miss;" he finished, pointedly.

I blinked. Then, I blinked again. It finally occurred to me that Paul was trying to tell me something he didn't want Tim to know; probably something about Kurt. Kurt; who had fooled me into thinking I was everything to him and then made sure I knew I was nothing to him once the deed was done. Had I dreamed that he was at the hospital singing to me? Why had he even bothered coming? So that his signals would be good and mixed? Was that how guys got girls to eagerly fall into bed with them and still have low expectations for anything else? Still, a big part of me craved closure, even if it was only a pathetic lie to scoff at later. "Um; yeah, okay," I murmured.

That night, as I walked to Paul's fraternity house, I heard Suki's voice in my head telling me that every other gang rape porn story begins with a naïve girl going into a frat guy's room to "talk" and that if I wanted to end the night sodomized and covered with bruises and cum, she'd introduce me to her cousin Romeo. Not that I had told Suki where I was going, because then she'd actually follow me down the street saying that stuff.

I felt it in my bones that this was a bad idea. Why couldn't Kurt just tell me what was going on himself? Why not show me that little bit of respect instead of making his cousin tell me like a third grader? Why even bother doing it after a week of nothing at all? Then again, maybe it wasn't even about Kurt. Maybe he told Paul how stupid I was, and Paul thought I'd be easy to get into bed. I didn't want to have sex with Paul, though; not even if it would hurt Kurt for hurting me. I wanted to make love. That was the problem, I guess. That night, I was making love, but I didn't know I was just getting fucked.

Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First Time.

For months, I had dreamed of kissing him again, remembering the feel of his soft lips exploring mine during the hot summer nights at camp. The dream of it had kept me up at night, swirling in my mind, arousing a delicious hunger that demanded satisfaction. Now, his lips were angry and hard, though. His arms were clenched painfully just under my ribs and I was off balance. His hair reeked of a strange smoke and cloves. His teeth bumped mine as he snaked his tongue deep inside my mouth and I tasted beer and something else that made my stomach lurch. I pushed away from him and turned quickly, vomiting on the steps of the stately building.

"Whoa; I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just; shit. Are you okay?" he asked, gently holding back my hair as more waves of nausea made me lurch again.

Everything was burning inside me, my gut, my throat, my eyes. He was still beguilingly like the boy I knew at camp, but at the same time he was someone I didn't know at all. He knelt down beside me, expecting an answer that I would have given anything not to have to say. "I'm okay;" I said, wiping my mouth, "it's just that; I don't think I like beer; and your face and your mouth; they smell and taste like; you know; a girl's; privates," I said, nearly choking on the last word.

"Oh my God;" he said, releasing my hair and sitting down on the steps, covering his mouth with his hands. "I'm sorry; please, I'm so sorry. It wasn't; that was just; fuck. I'm sorry. Yeah, I was with this other girl, but it wasn't really anything - for either of us. It was just something that; and then when Paul popped his head in the room and said 'Dude - she's here!' I just ran out of there; "

"'Dude, she's here?'" I scoffed, incredulously. "You left someone in the middle of; that; because he just said 'Dude, she's here?' What if he was talking about; "

Kurt moved to kneel between my knees, holding my hands. "You don't get it. You don't. After camp, I tried to find you. I even called the camp and begged them to help me contact you until they started blocking my calls. After that, all I could talk about to Paul was what to try next to find you. You were the only thing I talked about, Melanie. Just you. There was only one person it could be, because Paul knew that for me there was no other 'she.'"

"I; I tried to find you, too," I admitted. "I couldn't find a Kurt Wyman anywhere. I tried everything. I didn't have anyone I could bore about it, though. My girlfriends couldn't talk with me because; well, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, the camp told my parents what happened and that blew things up; and then when my girlfriends came back, and the story got around; well, I just didn't hear from them anymore."

"Seriously? Just because you; "

"And then when Northeastern took back my scholarship and rescinded my admission, my parents were even more disappointed. I'd never made a mistake like that before. They said it was like they didn't know me anymore."

"Jeez; my parents just gave me the talk about being responsible and using protection. They really kicked you out of school? That's ridiculous! How could they do that?"

"Religious colleges are a small community, and the camp director had some connections there. He filled them in on what happened and they decided I wasn't a good fit for the school. Same thing happened with Bethany College. It was just lucky I had this set up as my third alternate. The problem is now that I'm here, I don't have much of a scholarship. My parents can't afford to pay my way, so I'll need a job and loans, maybe even two jobs. I've got to go check the campus jobs board at the student union tomorrow. I should get back to the apartment - it's an overpriced overflow place near the dorms. I shouldn't have even gone to a party tonight," I said ruefully, getting up and dusting my clothes.

"I'm glad you did. This place is huge. I might never have found you if you didn't," he said, taking hand in his again. "Um; my last name is actually Sorenson. That's probably why you couldn't find me. My parents changed it to my stepdad's name for camp because they were worried about getting questions about the divorce. My birth dad had a bit of a reputation up that way."

"Your parents divorced?"

"Yeah, I was pretty little, like four, when it happened. They tell me my dad was a lot like me - talkative, impulsive, passionate, and restless. Mom always said she fell in love with him in spite of herself. My step-dad, the guy she chose to fall in love with after my dad left us, couldn't be more different from him."

"Or more different from you?"

"Yeah. Ralph;he's just a good guy. Steady, you know? Shows up for stuff. Worked at the same place for 25 years and pays the bills. Doesn't say much, and never really understood why I did. He tried hard to be a good dad to me, I guess, but the more he tried to show me what a man was, the more I realized that I could never really be a man like that. I was too different."

"Did your birth father; "

"He tried for a bit; then he didn't. He'd pick me up and bring me up north to my grandfather's farm. They'd work while I hung out with Paul who lived next door at my aunt's place. Mostly I remember the drive back and forth. Dad talked the whole time. Constantly. Just a flow of consciousness, passionate, jumping around, but connected at the same time. Like the whole universe needed to fit into one sentence," he said, looking up at the ominous clouds curling overhead.

I looked up with him, feeling the energy in the air, the potential of the storm making my gut tremble. "Was it stuff he was telling you, or was he just talking to the world?" I asked, when he looked back to me.

Kurt brushed a strand of my hair back and chuckled, "Yeah. You nailed him - he was just spilling things out to the world. I don't know if he connected enough with people to actually have a conversation with them rather than just tell them all the things he was thinking about. It's hard to connect anyone when you've got a motor inside making you buzz around like a hummingbird, you know? Not that he didn't want to connect, I think. Like I said, I think he tried; it's just that it wasn't really in him. That; and well, he kinda had to hide a lot of himself. I think it was probably a hard habit to shake."

I looked over at him, sensing there was more to the statement. "What do you mean?" I asked.

Kurt reached back, rubbing his neck and avoiding my eyes. "Um; well, when I was about 10, he lost a bunch of weight, started getting these patches on his skin. He stopped picking me up for his weekends. When I called him at Christmas, he sounded really weak. He rambled about growing up out there, never getting to see the world, and this friend that he had when he was a boy. He was kind of disoriented. Then he told me to always wear a rubber. Mom and Ralph flipped when I asked them what that meant. Anyway, he died that spring."

"I'm so sorry. How did he; was it cancer?"

Kurt swallowed. "Umm, no. It was Aids. Turned out, dad was gay. Didn't go to the doctor or get treatment or anything.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea," I said, shocked beyond words. Silently, I wondered how a man could marry a woman and have a child with her and still be gay. How could a person live life like a completely different person, knowing they were someone else inside?

"Well, we were in bible camp. I didn't want to freak you out, and it's not really the kind of thing you talk about between devotionals and archery, right?"

"I guess not. And that's the thing, camp is simple. We leave behind all our distractions and baggage. It makes us think that someone is perfect there, but when you get back to real life; things are different. What I mean is, I know we were; that it was; um; that we; did stuff together, and it was really nice, but I'm not really; like that," I mumbled, looking at my feet. "I can't just go and do; that; with someone I just met at a party. If you're; like that, I'm probably not the right girl for you," I said, forcing each word out with an effort.

"You are the right girl for me and that is exactly the reason why. I dated a lot girls this summer - so many I can barely remember them. I just was with you for a couple weeks and then it hurt to be away from you. I didn't understand what was wrong with me. It had never hurt like that before. I didn't understand why. I began going out with even more girls, like it could make the pain go away; turn camp into something less than what it was. It didn't work. What happened between us changed something in me. Just walking next to you alone, now; it's erotic. Watching you trying to control your breathing because of how I'm affecting you; I can barely stand it," he breathed, trailing his hands up my arms, making me shiver.

I stepped back from him, trying to clear my head. "But, Kurt; we don't really know each other! I find out you're someone who needs sex like; "

"No; you weren't listening. I don't need sex. I need you. Don't get me wrong - I want you. I want to be your first, your only. But that's not what this is about. I won't push you or anything. You'll see. Just; let me in," he said, stepping closer and cupping my face. "Don't hide from this. Don't make me be anywhere I can't see you; touch you," he said. "Please Melanie; dive into this with me; see what it is; believe in me enough to give me this chance."

His touch began melting me again, but then the smell of the other girl on them reminded me of why I was hesitating. "I; don't know;" I said, taking a step back from him again.

Kurt opened his mouth to argue again, but closed it with an effort. He bit his lips and nodded, instead offering me his arm as he began walking me back toward the dorms. The evening cooled, and we looked up to see the roiling clouds begin to take on a greenish tinge in the dimming light. "Come on, we're running out of time," he said, taking my hand and starting to jog. I had to run to keep up with him on my short legs. When we reached a serene fountain pool with an odd modern design, he pulled me to the side and stopped. As I used a nearby drinking fountain to wash the taste of vomit out of my mouth, he leaned over the pool and scrubbed what was left of the other girl off his face and hands in the water, running his fingers through his hair and shaking it out with a grin. Then, he carefully positioned me in a place where the fountain curved in an arc around us and then stood behind me. "I wanted to show you this place before the rain came. The design; it's like magic," he whispered. "I came here my first night on campus and made a wish. Close your eyes and I'll let it tell you what it was;"

I looked up at his lean earnest face, still dripping with the fountain's water. My heart was hammering in my chest, sensing a knocking at its door. I turned back toward the fountain pool and closed my eyes. Then, Kurt spoke in a quiet voice that bounced off the acoustic perfection of the design and seemed to come back to me from every direction, seeming to go into my very soul: "Please, God. Please bring her back to me;"

Two warm drops splashed onto my cheeks as I turned back to him. He stood there holding me in the darkening night, reading my face, willing me to understand, waiting for an answer to his unasked question. Feeling more than thinking, before my anxieties could pull me out of the moment, my face turned up to his and my eyes closed as our lips met. His mouth was soft, now, but insistent. His arms tightened around me and lifted me closer.

A dizzying sense of untethered freedom filled me when it dawned on me that there was no one to keep me from kissing this boy; this man. No friends or camp counselors to gossip or scold me if I touched his body with mine. There was only Kurt, who pulled back and looked at me like I was the only thing in the universe. I reached out and put my shaking hand on his chest, feeling him breathing heavily. When I raised my eyes to his, he had a bemused look on his face. "It's just that; I can touch you, now. Nobody cares. It's just so strange," I explained, shrugging apologetically.

"Not strange; perfect," he said, putting his hands over mine. "Right now, more than anything, I just want to take you somewhere and just look at you; touch you," he said, cupping my face and leaning down to kiss me again. The kiss deepened, leaving us oblivious to the first few warning taps of warm raindrops falling down. Suddenly, with a low rumble, the sky opened and a warm torrent pounded down on us. I screamed in surprise and Kurt laughed with joy before we blindly sprinted the rest of the way to the dorm overflow apartments, splashing through the streets that had suddenly turned to shallow streams.

We stumbled into the apartment, peeling sodden clothes off each other, fumbling because we couldn't stop kissing long enough to look at what we were doing. The sound of the door slamming shut startled me away from Kurt's hungry lips. "What was that?" I asked.

"I think that was probably your roommate. Either that or a burglar who yelled that they thought they would go for a walk in the rain; all night," Kurt said, laughing. He stopped my crossed arms from lifting my drenched shirt over my head, "No; let me do that. Please. Let me look at you, touch you; take care of you. Let me do everything. Just relax;" he whispered, taking the bottom of my shirt, lifting it over my head and letting it drop to the floor in a wet pile.

I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously, as he reached around and unhooked my bra, nuzzling my neck with his scratchy face. I closed my eyes tightly when I felt it go loose and fall to the floor. I felt him lift my arms away from the cold damp skin of my tits, and gently place them on his chest. His skin was warm, almost radiating heat. I wanted to press myself against him and soak it all up. After a moment of nothing happening, I dared to open my eyes. Kurt lifted his eyes from my shivering tits, swallowed and looked down at them again, "Bed or sofa?" he asked hoarsely.

"I; I don't know" I stammered before he pulled me into the bedroom and closed the door with his foot. My temporary bed was just a twin mattress on the floor with sheets, a pillow and a blanket, but Kurt didn't seem to mind as we fell onto it in an ungainly heap. "Oh; heat;" I gasped in bliss, feeling his warm chest pressed against mine. Then, the heat was gone as he rose up off me again and I whimpered until I felt him take my nipple into his warm wet mouth. I jumped and squeaked at the unfamiliar but wonderful electric sensation, making him laugh as he began to suck on it, flicking it rapidly with his tongue, making me moan through my clenched teeth.

He devoured my tits, filling the room with greedy, hunger-filled noises. With a slight grunt, he moved his hands from my tits to the waistband of my skirt and panties, and began tugging them down off me. I stiffened with the shocked realization that I was going to be naked soon, but then he stopped and sat up. "You've never been naked with someone, have you?" he asked panting, a smile playing on his lips as he watched me squirm self-consciously, half-naked on the bed under him. My eyes flickered to his and I shook my head with an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry; you're just so beautiful that I forget. All I can think of is all the things I want to do to every new part of you that I see," he breathed, his eyes roaming over me.

"Can; can I see you?" I said in the barest of whispers.

His eyes lit up, gleefully. "You want to see this pale, skinny, pipe-cleaner body with a massive erection? Oh, hell yeah," he said, jumping up and starting to tear off his jeans with a vengeance while I giggled on the bed. For a while, I watched him hop around, struggling with the wet denim, before I got to my knees and helped him. Suddenly free, his cock sprang out, almost slapping him in the stomach. The mood in the room changed. We froze where we were, me stunned to be so close to his large organ, straight out and nearly purple with need, and him gripping my shoulder tightly with his eyes closed, trying to focus.

The head was smooth and almost shiny compared to the rest of it, with a ridge that went all around. The skin of the shaft looked soft with pipe-like veins sticking up along it. At the very tip, the fissure held a pregnant bead of fluid that looked ready to flow. Curious, I leaned over to look at the underside of it and saw a long ridge running along it up to an area of small ridges near the tip. I raised up my hand to feel the small ridges before I realized what I was doing, stopping halfway. I glanced up to see Kurt watching me and I blushed, instead using my raised hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. "Yeah you; you can touch me," he said quietly, "I would love for you to touch me there. It's incredible; sensitive. Go ahead;" he encouraged.

I swallowed and reached up again, touching the small ridges under the head with my fingertip, running my finger back and forth over them. Then, I followed the ridge that ran all around the head with my fingertip and heard his breath shudder. The sound of it made me flutter inside. Remembering camp, I looked up into Kurt's eyes and raised my lips to the head, kissing it gently. I inhaled the masculine, musky scent of it and opened my lips wider, taking more of the head in my mouth and exploring the fissure with my tongue, the taste unfamiliar but not unpleasant. His hand gripped my shoulder more tightly and he groaned. I felt a thrill that he liked what I was doing. I used my hands on the base and shaft, sucking the head inside my mouth completely now, like I had seen Counselor Pam do at camp. Suddenly, Kurt made a high-pitched strangled noise, and seemed to be trying to push me away. Worried, I released the head and looked up, "What; " I asked, when forceful jets of creamy semen shot out into my open mouth, and onto my face and tits.

I looked down at the white fluid on my tits in wide-eyed shock. Part of me was dying of embarrassment and yet, looking at the evidence of his arousal and satisfaction, I felt almost proud of it. I couldn't bring myself to look up at him, though. I couldn't bear it if he apologized or looked disgusted, so I just sat there looking at my knees and waiting.

I heard him let out a long slow breath through his open mouth. "Don't move. Stay right there," he said, and left. I heard him in the other room, digging around at the desk I shared with my roommate and then he came back in with a notebook and pencil, already sketching as he sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of me. I opened my mouth to ask him what was going on, when he made a disapproving noise and I shut it again. "The most beautiful girl I've ever seen is wearing cords of my cum like they're jewel necklaces. There's a diamond about to fall from your perfect lower lip onto your chin; if I don't capture it;" he trailed off, engrossed in his frantic sketching.

"Do you; like it? Seeing your; stuff; on a girl?" I asked tentatively, careful not to move my lips as I spoke.

Kurt moved the lamp by the bed closer and lifted my chin slightly. "Honestly, I never thought about it that much before," he said, hunching over the sketchbook. "I usually didn't know the girl that well, so I mostly worried that she would get mad; be grossed out; say something that would break the mood before; well, anyway," he said. Looking up at me and tilting his head like he was seeing something impossibly beautiful, "but you; seeing it on you; sitting there almost; accepting it like a gift; proud; and knowing I put it there;" I heard him toss the notebook aside and taking my shoulders, pushing me back on the bed and covering my body with his. "It makes me feel like I must be a king;" he whispered, leaning down to kiss where his semen dripped from my mouth.

He moved down my chest, following the trail of his seed along my tits, kissing, licking, nipping and sucking as I jumped, squirmed and moaned under him. His hands returned to my skirt, pushing it down along with my panties and smiling when I raised my hips to help him. Tossing the last of my clothes aside, I watched him as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful of condoms and a small bottle of fluid. "You knew this might happen when you went after me," I said quietly.

His face reddened, but then set, in determination. "I won't say I 'knew,' but; now that I've found you, I'm never going to be without them; at least until we're ready to have kids," he said. That made me blink so hard I could almost hear it, and his mouth curled at what must have been the look of blank-faced shock on my face. "Don't you look at me like I'm crazy or a liar, because I must be one of those to say half the things I've said tonight and

.
Camp counselors don't always follow the rules.

Based on a post by Lingering Afterthought, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at My First Time.

After lights out on the first night of my last year at Pipestone Lake Bible Camp, I stared up at the bunk mattress above me, listening to the crickets outside and the whispered giggles of my girlfriends in the cabin. I felt a little silly still going to my childhood bible camp at the age of 18, but at the same time it was so hard to let go. I didn't feel ready to be out in the world, yet, and college was only a few weeks away. Pam, the camp counselor reminded us again that there was no talking after lights out, and the giggling eventually died out.

From the light outside the pole-barn style chapel, I saw that Dan, one of the boys' counselors, was waiting for her there. I wondered if they were planning some kind of camp event together, but then my face warmed because it soon became obvious that they were flirting with each other. As they talked, Dan leaned down and kissed Pam's upturned lips. His arms went around her and their kissing turned into wet kissing. I could see their tongues touching and going into each other's mouths. Dan's hand moved up to Pam's tit and squeezed it and I squirmed and looked away, uncomfortable. This was something I shouldn't allow myself to see. It might lead me into temptation, or make me think that things that were wrong were somehow acceptable. I couldn't let my eyes lead me into sin. I decided to leave, but what I saw next shocked me into stillness: Pam suddenly went to her knees and unzipped Dan's shorts. Kissing was one thing, and at bible camp, even that one thing wasn't good, but this was something else entirely. Dan's cock popped out of his shorts and hit her on the cheek, making me gasp and flinch. I couldn't believe she actually let it touch her face like that, and she didn't even wipe her cheek. She just smiled up at him and took it in both her hands, rubbing it up and down.

Dan bent his knees a little, pushing his hips forward and leaning against the chapel wall, and staring at Pam's face like he couldn't believe she was real. His cock got even bigger as she rubbed it again and again. Dan's hips were swaying along with her motions, moving like he was a puppet on a string. He put his fingers into her hair and then I gasped, because then he took his cock and rubbed it around her wet lips and pushed the thick tip inside her mouth. Pam opened her mouth wide and sucked on it, moving it in even deeper. Dan's eyes closed and he leaned his head back, resting it on the wall, a low groan coming out of his mouth.

I stayed crouched in the woods nearby watching, terrified I'd be caught out of bed, but also shocked, embarrassed, and to my horror, aroused. Though we were eighteen, the campers weren't even allowed to be alone anywhere together, much less kiss, and here our pious camp counselors were doing; this. This was exactly what they told us we should never do, touching each other and doing sexual things outside of a holy marriage. They said it was especially shameful for the girls because it would cheapen us, ruining our hearts for the one man God had chosen for us to marry. That was what they said, but I knew Pam and Dan weren't married. They weren't even that much older than I was, and yet there they were.

Pam leaned up and held onto Dan's hips, and the wet noises he made going in and out of her mouth got faster. Dan put his other hand in her hair, too, and began pumping his hips against her face. Pam sounded like she was almost choking as he did it, a "gluk, gluk, gluk, gluk, gluk" noise coming out of her, adding to the slurping sounds filling the night. Dan's breath quickened, turning into breathy grunts increasing in pitch, until he hissed and he made a sound like a dying bird through his clenched teeth. His hips were shaking and twitching and then my breath stopped, seeing that he had pulled Pam's face all the way to his hips in his clenched hands.

Startled out of my trance, I turned to run back to the cabin, but smacked into someone who had also been watching them, standing just behind me. I almost screamed in surprise, but he put his hand over my mouth, his other arm steadying me so that I didn't fall. I recognized him as one of the boys from the camp. He stood barefoot in his pajamas like me, tall and skinny, his dark hair longer than the country boys wore theirs, styled in a way that looked almost like Elvis. I didn't know his name. I guessed he had trouble sleeping, too. He put a finger to his lips, and his eyes were kind, pleading for my silence. I swallowed and nodded, and he dropped his hand from my mouth. We stood breathless, staring at each other in awkward silence, strangers bound in a pact of secrecy. Wordlessly, we parted, racing back to our cabins before our counselors could get back and lock us out upon returning from their chapel meeting.

The next morning, Pam woke us for breakfast and morning chapel. Twelve girls crowded into the bathroom, negotiating the use of 2 power outlets between us, as we did our hair and makeup. I snuck looks at Pam while using my corner of the mirror. She looked bright-eyed and happy, as usual.

As I waited for breakfast with my girlfriends, holding my tray, I noticed the tall boy from last night joining the line with a friend. Everything about him seemed elongated and gangly, like an adolescent giraffe. He smiled and laughed easily with his friend, who then nudged him and nodded toward me, obviously drawing his attention to the girl who was staring at him. I immediately blushed and looked at the floor, returning my attention to the line.

I and most of the girls from my cabin sat down at a table together, some of the boys mixing in, taking advantage of the precious few moments we were allowed to mix with the other sex. The tall boy and his friend sat down at the empty space on the other side of the table from me. I looked down at my tray, certain I wouldn't be able to swallow a bite. "Oh my gosh, Melanie! You're absolutely covered with mosquito bites! You must taste good!" Lisa said, laughing shrilly as she pulled my arm out over the table, drawing everyone's attention to the red spots all over my arms, neck and face.

"Oh, that's nothing," announced the tall boy's friend, "My boy Kurt, here's, got it even worse," he said, pulling Kurt's arm out and comparing his bites with mine. Our arms brushed and I glanced up at him, surprised to see that he was blushing, too. Neither of us had noticed the mosquitoes eating us alive last night. "Kurt's a city boy, though. Nice thin skin for our country skeeters. I'm Paul Peterson, this is my cousin Kurt Wyman. Where are you lovely ladies from?" he asked, prompting my girlfriends to giggle, flirt and talk about our rural Minnesota town, as Kurt and I pulled our arms back, furtively looking at each other.

After breakfast, we all walked to chapel together, Kurt slowing his long legs to keep pace near me, and Paul talking up all the girls about which extracurricular activities we would be choosing. "What are you signing up for, Melanie?" Kurt asked quietly, holding open the door to the chapel for the group.

"Um; music and archery probably. I mostly just wait for the swimming," I said with a smile, forcing myself to look up at his face for more than two seconds.

"Me too," he said, our arms brushing again as we entered the chapel.

Paul shepherded Kurt and I into the same pew, as he kept chatting up the others. I could feel my girlfriends' curious and scandalized looks when Kurt and I sat down together, hating how self-conscious it made me feel. We sat next to each other through the service, the Pastor teaching us about our responsibilities to seek righteousness and avoid even the appearance of sin. Those who truly loved God, would surely delight in pleasing Him, and not in the things of this world. We were saved by God's grace and forgiveness, but apparently, we weren't supposed to need those things after being saved, I thought. I felt Kurt's hand brush mine, and my eyes flicked up to his, wondering if he was trying to hold my hand, but he wasn't. He was watching the Pastor, as straight faced as a monk. Embarrassed at my thoughts, I turned my attention back to the sermon, but then Kurt's hand actually took mine and, holding it low, pointed my finger at something. I looked in the direction it pointed and saw Dan staring at Pam who was moving a sucker around her wet lips absentmindedly, then sucking it into her mouth. I gasped silently and then I felt Kurt's body jiggling next to me, laughing at my surprise. Our hands stayed close, touching but not holding, for the rest of the chapel service.

After chapel, Pam led our cabin in a morning devotional lesson on what we could do to remain pure in a sinful world. It was the standard list of things that good girls didn't do, but some of the finer points got a bit contentious. Could good girls wear makeup? At what age did good girls go on dates? Was it sinful if our nipple bumps showed through our shirts, or did we have to use padded cups on bras to be pure? One girl said that her mother even put band aids over her nipples when they went to church, just to be sure there were no accidents, so invisible nipples were apparently very important to purity. Panty lines were also a problem because they might tempt the boys to think too much about impure things, so it was important to wear modest underwear that covered the entire bottom. "What are you thinking about, Melanie?" Pam asked, looking at me and smiling with the lips that were wrapped around Dan's cock last night.

"I guess I was just wondering if the boys were getting advice on what kind of underwear they needed to be pure;" I said. Pam smiled dazzlingly and my girlfriends laughed. We all knew they weren't getting any such advice, because if for nothing else in life, the responsibility of preserving purity was on the girls.

In the afternoon, our entire cabin changed into our modest one-piece swim suits with padded bra cups, covered ourselves in our towels and t-shirts and walked to Pipestone Lake. After demonstrating our swimming abilities for the lifeguard, we were allowed to freely roam outside the shallow areas reserved for the non-swimmers.

The cool lake water felt like heaven after a sweltering day, swirling around our bodies as we relaxed and showed off for each other. I was floating on my back, my tits and the slight rise of my belly above the surface of the water, when I felt a slight tickle on the bottom of my foot. I wiggled it, scaring away whatever curious sunfish was brushing against me before it decided to take a nibble. Then, I felt something tickle the back of my knee and I turned myself vertical in the water, looking around. My girlfriends were screaming and having a splash fight, and on my other side two boys were talking. The boy with his back to me was slim with squared shoulders and when he moved to the side, I saw that the other boy was Paul. I watched as Kurt slowly turned in the water, showing a mischievous grin lit his face and then melted away before he turned back to his cousin. The darkness of the lake water had hidden his tickling touch from his cousin's view. Feeling daring, I lay on my back in the water again, floating as I had been before. The tickling fish returned, brushing the bare skin of my arm, my ankle, my shoulders, and down the line of my back. Suddenly feeling scared that I had allowed too much, I flipped in the water, swimming quickly to shore and returned to my cabin alone.

That night, I didn't sit with Kurt in chapel. I took a seat near the front, far from where he sat with Paul in the back. I didn't turn my head to see if he was looking at me. I paid attention to the sermon like a good girl. A good girl wouldn't have allowed Kurt to touch her bare skin under the surface of the lake. A good girl wouldn't have enjoyed it. During the sermon, a bat somehow got into the chapel, making the girls scream and some of the guys, too. The pastor tried to calm us as the staff tried to get it out, warning us that Satan only wanted to distract us from the message. Yeah, too late. Satan had already distracted me, I thought.

That night, I stared unblinkingly at the bunk above mine, listening to the crickets, the breathing and the snores. The feel of Kurt secretly touching my body in the cool water was replaying itself in my mind again and again. My body was tense with a twisting restlessness that just wouldn't leave me alone. Sleep was impossible. A squeak and a click told me that Counselor Pam was sneaking out again. Sneaking out to touch and be touched. Good girls didn't want to be touched. I was starting to doubt that I was a good girl. I followed her.

I hid in the woods behind the chapel, watching Pam and Dan kissing and touching. Dan lifted her shirt and then her bra, exposing her round full tits. Bending down, he began licking them, flicking his tongue on her nipples, and nibbling them with his lips. I imagined how it would feel to have Kurt kissing and sucking on my tits and a slight sound escaped my mouth. I gasped in surprise as a hand came from behind me and covered my lips. I turned to see Kurt smiling down at me. He put a finger to his lips and looked at me questioningly. I bit my lips and shook my head slightly. I knew I couldn't stay silent. Kurt nodded, still smiling, and turned my head back to Pam and Dan, his hand still covering my mouth. Now, biting and tugging on her nipples with his teeth, Dan lifted Pam, pressed her against the chapel wall, put his hand under her skirt and began rubbing under her panties. Pam was getting more and more excited, curving a leg around his hips and moaning. "Have you ever done that?" Kurt whispered in my ear. Breathing hard, I swallowed and shook my head. "It's amazing;" he murmured.

Dan let Pam slide to the ground again and got down on his knees, pushing her skirt up, still rubbing under her panties with his fingers. Pam was pinching and twisting her own nipples, now, groaning in pleasure. Dan started sliding her panties down her thighs and I gasped, making Kurt laugh quietly. Once he had taken her panties off, Dan stuffed them into her mouth, lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and put his face between her legs, licking and sucking her. I turned wide-eyed to Kurt who was still watching them, "Oh; I would do that; just look at what it's doing to her; I would totally do that for a girl," he breathed. Pam's head was tossing from side to side, her hips bucking, her panties muffling her cries. It looked like Dan was shoving his fingers into her again and again while he licked and sucked between her legs. Suddenly, she stiffened like she was almost in pain, and then after a long while she melted against him and became loose again. I looked at Kurt, almost alarmed, he glanced at me and seemed confused by my expression. "She came," he whispered. "Haven't you ever done that with a guy; or, you know; yourself?" Feeling foolish and naïve, I shook my head and looked away. He turned me by my shoulders to face him, his eyes still kind, and smiled. "Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of; just um; you touch yourself down there, especially that little thing on top of; well; um; can I just show you? No funny stuff, I swear. I just want to show you so that you know what I'm talking about, okay?" Blushing, I nodded.

Kurt tentatively raised my night shirt, took my hand in his and pressed it against my belly. "Okay, I'm going to go under your panties now, all right?" I nodded. I felt my hand wrapped in his, slipping under the waistband and going down to my pubic hair. I shivered when I felt him using mine to feel around, looking for whatever he wanted. "It's all right, I just need to find it. Oh wow, you're really wet;" he said, appreciatively. Then, our fingers touched a place that made it feel like electricity was running through my body. "There it is. Right there. Now, just rub it like this," he whispered, moving my fingers, "and just do it until you feel something explode and go through your body, and inside you it will squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until it's done."

He kept my fingers rubbing as he talked and it felt like I was falling apart and twisting in knots at the same time. Then, before I wanted him to, he slipped his fingers out of my panties, put them in his mouth, and sucked on them. "You try it," he prompted, his eyes glowing in the moonlight. He watched me, still sucking on his fingers, his eyes glowing.

He walked behind me and put his arms around me, "Okay, now keep rubbing it like I did," he whispered in my ear. I could feel his warm breath in my hair, his chest rising and falling against my back with each breath. "Go a little faster as you get more excited; that's it," he whispered, and I began to squirm against him, rubbing myself. "That's it; oh, man you're so beautiful right now; you feel it coming don't you?" I began panting and making noises I didn't know I could make, as the feelings in my body built higher and higher. Kurt put his hand gently over my mouth again, muffling the sounds coming out of me. "I could listen to that all night, but keep it up and you're gonna get us caught, sweetheart," he laughed. My hips began bucking just like Pam's had and my body went rigid, sensation exploding through me and all by itself something deep inside me clenched and clenched and clenched again. I shook with release, Kurt holding me tightly against him whispering encouragements in my ear. After it passed, Kurt held me, supporting me, while I trembled, gasping for air and feeling strangely weak. Before my self-consciousness could come roaring back, he turned me around, his eyes alive, and whispered "now, was that the best thing ever or what?"

Still feeling lingering thrills of sensation all over my body, I nodded weakly. "It was; thank you;" I said, not knowing what else to say.

Kurt held me closer until he noticed that Pam and Dan were getting dressed again, "Looks like we've got to go, but man, I'm going to be awake all night long, just thinking about this," he said, smiling down at me. Then, looking unsure, he swallowed "You're not; you're not going to avoid me again tomorrow, are you? Please don't. We only have a few more days together, you know?" he said, quietly, squeezing my hands.

I squeezed his hands back. "I; I won't avoid you. I'm sorry. I got shy. My friends always tease and embarrass me when I meet someone nice, and then I just want to hide, but I don't want to miss any time with you, either," I said, smiling back at him.

We spent every moment of those last days together that we could. Laughing at Paul's outrageous flirting during meals, swimming and touching each other under the permissive veil of the lake water, and sitting together in chapel, morning and evening, with the sides of our legs brushing lightly against each other.

At the final night's campfire when Kurt and I were huddled together under his jacket, the counselors separated us, having finally noticed how dangerously close we had become. Kurt sat across the fire watching me, while Pam led us in singing gospel songs while Dan accompanied on the guitar. I watched as a mischievous look came across his face when he intentionally caught my eye. He looked from Dan, to Pam, and then nodded to the chapel, and raised his eyebrows to me in question. I bit my lips and nodded, smiling. There was no way I would be missing our last night together.

I glared at the bottom of the top bunk that night, thinking my girlfriends would never shut up. The night, prolonged with whispers and giggles, got later and later until Pam finally threatened everyone that the next person to make a sound would have to clean the cabin by themselves the next morning. The resulting silence was ghostly until the heavy sleep breathing and light snores began, and I waited for the squeak and the click that would bring me to Kurt's arms again.

I followed Pam to the chapel and hid in the woods nearby. I worried that Dan and Kurt would not come because of how late we were, but soon I felt Kurt's long fingers reaching around my hip and feeling around between my legs. In front of us, Pam turned to face the chapel wall and spread her legs far apart as Dan knelt between them, licking her again. I was already wet, and Kurt used the moisture to slip down to my cunt, pressing gently inside me until he was stopped by my hy

A series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the

Reverend Morris anxiously paced back and forth in the

And what about Christopher? His four-year old son had just

"Bishop George won't take kindly to this," he

Hearing Lucy's car pull up on the drive, Reverend Morris

"Hello, um, oh you're back a bit later than normal? Um,

"I dropped him off at your mum's," Lucy replied.

"I, had a feeling you might say that. There's something

Lucy took his hand and beckoned him to sit next to her on

"Simon. I've not been honest with you for some time

"Please tell me," Reverend Morris replied.

Lucy sighed. "Yes. I, I'm so sorry, Simon."

Suddenly, the reverend felt less guilty. That they'd both

"I see. Is he, someone from church?"

"Yes, but, it's she," Lucy replied.

Reverend Morris blinked. "She? Oh,

"Debbie Adams, you know, she teaches at the Sunday

He took her hand. "I'm happy you found the courage to

"You're a wonderful man, Simon. You're being so

Reverend Morris awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

Lucy smiled. "Oh really?"

"Um, you know Jenna? She goes to church. Jenna

"Blimey, Simon. Oh yes. I've seen her. She is really

Reverend Morris' face was turning red. "I worry about

"Simon, love is love. These others you speak of will

"Bishop George won't approve. He's planning to visit me

"I don't think he's the monster you make him out to be.

"Yes, she was called Julia. She left him for a Catholic

"Ouch."

"Who was older than him! The priest was defrocked of

"About Christopher," Lucy began. "We should

Reverend Morris nodded.

Another Sunday and another morning Eucharist at St

"Hello Jenna!"

"Good morning!" Jenna said. "Nice day for

"Nice day for what?" Josh replied, winking at her.

"Naughty boy. Nice day for a church service of course!

There was a notable absence in the church - John Norris and

"Well I heard that he moved out for a few days. They

"Margaret saw Patricia on the bus. Talk about having

"Best place for her. A poison-tongued harpy of the

"If my husband had been writing the sort of stuff like

Tony had volunteered to read the first reading, which was

"Then I saw coming from the mouth of the dragon, the

"He'll have a stroke if he carries on like that,"

Tony continued. "This is the day when I come like a

Some small children sat at the front looked terrified.

"This is the Word of the Lord!"

Tony sat down. The second reading was a much calmer passage

"Today, I'd like to talk all about love, forgiveness

Isn't love supposed to be fighting for that person no matter

Through the fights, the struggles, and the pain, shouldn't

Several loud gasps arose from the congregation. Jenna

"That's right. I know this will come as a shock to you

Josh looked up at the vicar in sympathetic understanding, as

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Reverend Morris

Suddenly, Tony stood up. "Good for ya, Vicar! You're a

Sat at the organ, Gordon was clapping furiously. He noticed

Jenna made her way straight to the vicarage after the

Alone in the house, Jenna removed her conservative clothing

"Oh he's back already," she smiled. The vicarage

Jenna opened the door. "I'm feeling sinful, oh! Er,

Instead of the vicar, a stern-looking man who was the

"Good morning," the mystery man replied. The clerical

"Um, can I help you, sir?"

"Is Reverend Simon Morris in?" the man replied.

"No, he's still at the church. He won't be long. Can I

"I'd prefer to come in and wait. I'm Bishop George. The

The bishop? Yikes, Jenna thought. He's the vicar's boss. I'd

At least, I must try to behave myself,

Bishop George sat down on the couch. "You must be the

Jenna was tempted to lie, but lying to a bishop felt like a

Bishop George nodded. "Ah yes. I didn't think you were

Jenna froze. Shit. Does he know everything? Did Reverend

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Tea please. Milk and one sugar," Bishop George

"Right, coming up, Jenna turned and bumped into the

"Clumsy me," she muttered, and bent down to pick

Bishop George wasn't prepared for such a sight and let out a

A few minutes later, Jenna returned with a cup of tea.

"Just call me George." He replied, taking the cup.

"Yes."

"I know about you," he continued. "I spoke to

Jenna sat directly opposite him in an armchair. Her legs

She uncrossed her legs.

Bishop George felt his cheeks flush. She'd removed her

Bishop George twitched as a brief tantalizing glimpse of

But the panties, those glorious red lace panties! What had

"Well, he began, a little hoarsely, "you've

"It's like history repeating itself," he added.

"What do mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing." Bishop George muttered, sipping his

Jenna thought carefully for a moment, trying to read the

Still, as the old saying goes - many a fine tune played on

"What do you think of St Michael's, then? You must know

He finished his tea. "Some churches are drawn to

"Right. I see. I'm surprised you haven't cut yourself

He reclined slightly in the armchair. "I have drawn

"Oh yes. You're right," Jenna said. "I'd

Bishop George gave a slight grin. "And tell me, how

"I prefer to show rather than tell!" He

"There you are. Beginning to enjoy yourself?" She

"It's been a long time since I enjoyed myself like

"Oh Bishop!" Jenna cooed, rubbing it. He let out a

And then Jenna got a surprise as she unzipped his trousers.

Bishop George froze, as his secret was revealed.

"Hey, nothing wrong with that, Bishop." Jenna

She pulled them down, wrapped her fingers around his cock

"It's been quite a while since it last saw any

"What a shame. Let's change that, shall we?"

Jenna moved down between Bishop George's legs as he sat up

Bishop George was in heaven; groaning in ecstasy as this

"Oh Bishop, I have to convince myself to stop licking

Without further hesitation, Bishop George rose from the

She gasped and curled her fingers when he slipped a finger

A series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the

At this Sunday's service, there was much talk of the

Jenna had made an effort and brought along a bag of apples.

"I don't know how a brazen hussy like you has the cheek

Jenna remained calm, as she turned to face Mrs. Norris.

"Huh! Christian my foot. I saw what you and the

"Well if you clutch those pearls of yours any tighter

"Why you, you, .horrid little slag!" Mrs. Norris

Jenna exhaled and rolled her eyes.

"Coffee or tea?" a friendlier voice asked. It was

"Tea please," Jenna replied.

"You ok?"

"Yeah. I don't think I'll be on her Christmas card

"Don't let that old bag get to you. She's a nasty one.

"I heard her hubby spreads gossip on Facebook."

"More likely that's her doing." Debbie replied.

A brief chill ran through Jenna. What if Mrs. Norris were to

"Wise. I'm on Facebook, but only to keep up with church

"Don't worry, I won't say a word."

Jenna sipped her tea quietly as she observed the other

She headed out of the hall, in search of Gordon, when Josh

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Josh stammered. "How

Jenna bent down and picked up the books. "You're loaded

"Um. So kind!" His pale cheeks went pink.

"Ok. Lead the way. By the way, you haven't seen the

"Oh, he and the organist are in a meeting. One of the

"Damn," Jenna muttered under her breath. "Oh

She followed Josh down to the storeroom. She'd never paid

I think this innocent curate needs some other kind of help,

The storeroom was vast, and crammed from floor to ceiling

"Holy sh,, I didn't know this room existed. And what a

"Heh, yeah." Josh said, putting the books down.

Jenna began putting the books on the shelf.

"Um you don't need to do that,

"Jenna."

Josh blushed again. "Jenna. It's kind of you to do that

"Oh I don't mind. Why should you have to do all the donkey

Josh relaxed a bit. "Pretty much, yeah. Like Batman and

"Have you always wanted to be a curate?"

Josh sat down on a stool. "In truth, no way. I wasn't

"Wow." Jenna replied, realizing how cosseted and

"There are still days when I doubt myself and I'm in a

"Don't put yourself down," Jenna said, walking

Josh blinked. "You, think so?"

"I do. Plus, you're really cute. Has a girl ever told

Josh blushed. "Err, no-one except my Nan. I don't think

"Women round here must be blind," Jenna added,

"J-Jenna, don't,

"It's alright Josh. You're not committing a sin or

"N-no, it's not that. I, um, The curate sighed.

She already knew he was single and straight, but decided to

"No, but, um, that's the problem really. I'd like one,

Jenna stroked his arm. "Tell her what?"

"I worry she'd laugh at me."

"Josh. Whatever it is, I promise I would never laugh at

He looked down. "Shit. I'm twenty-five. And I'm still a

She kissed his cheek again. "Oh Josh. That's nothing to

"Yeah but, I, um,

She pulled him to his feet and gently coaxed the truth out

"More than anything. But, dating today is scary. It's a

Jenna held back a chuckle. Mrs. Norris probably thinks of me

"I get that. But trust me. I don't think a sweet,

His eyes widened. "W-what? Here?"

"Why not? It's nice and private, And you're a really

"Jenna, He was already rock hard, and hoped his

"Shush. You're very special." She whispered,

What an adorable lamb to the slaughter, Jenna thought to

The touch of her lips sent a fire through his body, a jolt

"Shhh." Her lips caressed his own, then his nose,

"Mmm?"

She kissed him again, gently caressing his upper lip between

"Josh." Jenna smiled cheekily. "You're a

"Really?"

Just relax. I'm not going anywhere, there's no rush. All we

Jenna ran her hand down the front of his black cassock.

"I'm going to worship you," she whispered,

"Everything will be fine. I promise. Close your eyes if

The curate hesitated still, but Jenna's smile was reassuring

"There we are."

He couldn't resist a peek, through half-closed eyes. He was

"Oh my God!"

"Mmm. So beautiful. Truly God's gift to women. Just

"Uh! Oh Jesus!" The curate groaned. The crescendo

"Oh,

"Let it come."

Josh sighed deeply in relief as Jenna enveloped him again,

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" She said, standing

"Jenna. Fucking hell!"

"I'll take that as a yes?"

"Yes!" he gasped.

"Oh good. Because we're not done yet. You don't get off

An old, battered table was in the middle of the storeroom. Jenna

"Your turn."

Josh crossed himself.

"Just trust your instincts." She whispered,

Finding his courage at last, Josh moved close. With a shaky hand

"Mmm nice, Josh. Keep going!"

Encouraged, Josh lowered his mouth to her other breast, the

"Gently now."

"Sorry!"

The curate feasted on her breasts for a bit longer, before

Josh continued to lovingly kiss her thighs, his nerves

"You're doing great, Josh." Jenna answered in a

He ran a finger over her clit, causing her to let out a

"Oh Josh, He suckled gently on her clit and she let

"Jenna?" He pulled away from her, his fear

"No Josh. It was incredible, that's all. When you

Josh's heart leapt into his throat. "Oh,

"Are you ready?"

"Um, but protection, I-I don't have a condom,

"It's okay, you don't need to worry. I'm on the

"Oh, right. Good,

"Think of this as doing God's work," Jenna purred,

Slowly he positioned himself above her on the creaking

"Lord in Heaven!" It was such exquisite torture,

At first, he slipped in and out of her slowly. He buried his

"Umm, oh God Josh. Yes! Go harder!"

Jenna slowly relaxed her control, allowing him to work his

"Oh Josh, that's so good!"

He speeded up, as she wrapped her legs round him. Soon he

"Jenna!" He could feel his climax coming now, a

"Ugh!" With a roar of release the curate came,

When they'd both calmed down, Jenna held him close and

"Just fantastic, absolutely fantastic! I, wow. That

"Not at all. You go ahead."

When he'd finished, he opened his eyes and looked at Jenna,

T'was the Year of Our Lord 1739, and on a road bound for

"Innkeeper! I hath been riding all day and my poor

A series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the

St Michael's parish church was a charming place of worship

And so, our story begins,

Reverend Simon Morris was a vicar who hadn't gotten laid in

There was just one area where God had been unable to help

"O Lord God, who hast called thy servants to ventures

Amen."

Reverend Morris said a quick prayer to himself as he shook

The nosey old ladies, Josh, the new and nervous curate,

Then there was Jenna Fox. Twenty, red haired and absolutely

He'd spotted her in the congregation earlier, but not on the

"Good morning Reverend!" Jenna said, bold as

"Oh, good morning Jenna," Reverend Morris replied,

"I wore black today. For the Queen. Loved your sermon

"Thanks. Glad you liked it. It's been hard to write.

"Mmm, maybe later," she grinned. "Did you

Feeling a little uncomfortable at how close she was, he felt

He hurried off to the vestry. In there, he looked at himself

"Well at least I'm much younger than Prince

"You're not getting away from me this time

Before he could say anything, she'd cornered him. Glancing

"I've wanted you for a long time Reverend," she

"J-Jenna, this isn't appropriate. I, I am a married

"Not a very happy one, I suspect. I can always

Powerless to resist this angel of sin, the smitten vicar

"Your wife,

"Lucy and I have been leading separate, and sexless

"I'm sorry to hear that. So let me bring you some salvation."

He leaned in to kiss the exposed skin of Jenna's neck; his

Even with the cassock and surplice on, there was no

Lord Jesus, Jenna was trembling so much with excitement.

Without further ado, she unfastened his belt before reaching

"No, no, leave that on," Jenna said.

"As you wish." He mumbled holding up his cassock,

Jenna knelt in front of the vicar, pulled down the zipper of

"Oh wow. Where did you get those, Reverend?" Jenna

He blushed. "Um, a church event I attended in London.

"Umm." Jenna pulled down his trousers and boxers,

"Ah. The staff of life."

She took his hot length in her hand, feeling it, and stroked

"Oh dear God," Reverend Morris groaned.

As she groped his shaft, she realized just how wet with

"Ooh, Reverend you certainly have sinned," Jenna

"Oh, I am blessed!" He gasped.

Jenna licked every inch of his love pole, running her tongue

In her throatiest, most sexy tone, she said, "Well

Like a bolt of lightning, Reverend Morris kissed Jenna's

"Ah hah!" Jenna gasped. "Oh, Reverend. Yes!

Jenna was in a state of complete euphoria. She had dreamt

Reverend Morris began to quicken his thrusts and rammed his

"Ah! Praise the Lord!"

Jenna looked at Reverend Morris, and for the first time in

"For what I hath received, I am truly thankful,"

"Me too," Jenna replied, her insides filled with

In the afterglow of their sinful fun, they kissed each other

"I suppose, we should head over to the church

Gordon Leesmith was not having a good day. Another Sunday,

"You played the wrong opening hymn, Gordon," John

"That's not what the vicar told me," Gordon

"Anyways I just thought I'd let you know. Patricia and

"No change there then," Gordon replied, unable to

John was so taken aback, he couldn't speak for a moment.

"Don't come the innocent with me, you're the biggest

"I wouldn't argue in a church."

"I'll argue anywhere as long as I'm in the right. Now

Thus suitably chastised, the subdued John left, and Gordon

That was before his divorce.

Gordon was fifty-five, and had been organist and choirmaster

Jenna had been quietly observing the little outburst with

Jenna licked her lips. She was aching for a romp with

"Poor, miserable Gordon." Jenna mused. "I

"I wonder if the organist will let me play with his

Gordon was busy rifling through hymn books and didn't notice

"Uh. Can I help you with something?"

"Oh hello," Jenna replied, acting rather coy.

"Gordon. Bad time? There's never a good time," he

"Well I just wanted to thank you, Gordon. You played my

His attention captured, Gordon finally put down the books he

"I love anything by Charles Wesley. His hymns are

"Indeed they are. He wrote thousands during his

Gordon certainly was hard to read. Jenna wondered if she was

"Every week I come to church and I hear you play these

"I've had enough practice. I've been doing this for

Evidently, Gordon wasn't used to receiving any kind of

Jenna walked closer. "You're so talented."

"Ah, well. That's, nice of you to say. What's your

Her persistence seemed to be paying off, and the organist appeared

"Jenna."

"Do you play any musical instruments, Jenna?"

"Just the piano."

He nodded. "Good, good. For work or just a hobby?"

"Oh purely as a hobby," she smiled, flicking her

Gordon's stern face finally relaxed into a smile. "Why

"Oh how about And Can It Be?"

He shuffled around on the stool. "Very well. I often practice

"Me neither," Jenna said, walking up to beside

"Right, are you ready?"

The strains of the great Wesleyan hymn filled the church as

"I don't hear any singing, Jenna. How about you sing

"Ok!" She grinned, and he resumed playing.

"And can it be, that I should gain - An int'rest in the

Jenna deftly unfastened the first button on her white top.

"Died He for me, who caused His pain,For me, who Him to

Gordon happened to glance to his right again, and almost

"Amazing love! How can it be, That Thou, my God,

She unfastened another button. Gordon continued playing, and

"Amazing love! How can it be, That Thou, my God,

Gordon's eyes almost popped out of his head and he cleared his

"Go on, play a second verse!" Jenna said.

He continued to play, but could feel his face burning. Jenna

"Just one more verse, Gordon! I'll give it my

He continued playing and she resumed singing, her pale, pert

"Oh dear God," Gordon thought to himself. What a