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Passion Plays

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My brother invited a friend over to take to Church, but he wasn’t interested in being Born Again. #Blasphemy #Heresy #Hypocracy

TBPH, I was more than a little doubtful, myself. I was 13, and ever since I heard the truth about Santa Claus. All the stories about Jesus, and God started to sound a little far fetched. That led me to reconsider the ideas of Sin, and living Righteously to get into Heaven.

I didn’t really want to “Sin,” but I sure didn’t see the point of being good all the time, if I wasn’t going to Heaven. In fact, doesn’t Heaven itself sound a little boring? Okay, maybe you want to be good to stay out of Hell, but I don’t believe in that, nor the devil any more, either.

Then, Gus showed up, and he didn’t say anything to me. He just hung out with my brother, but he looked at me. A lot, and I’d gotten looks from other boys before, but the way he looked at me. I don’t know why it was different, but it wasn’t creepy. He just smiled, and turned back to Isaak.

I blushed, and thought about what he must be thinking. About me, I don’t believe in reading minds, or other magical powers either. So, I knew I was making things up, but I tried to figure out what he might like to do with me, if he got the chance.

His eyes stopped on my chest a lot, and it was starting to get a little chilly. So, I was wearing a sweater, I’d had for years so it wore down until the fibers were soft, and comforting. It was my favorite sweater. So, long after I’d outgrown other clothes, and given them away to the homeless.

I guess, I didn’t think about the stories of homeless families, with little girls that were young enough to wear my hand me downs, but you know what? How many 10 year old homeless girls can there be, honestly? You never see them on the streets, and if I ever had, then I would have remembered, because I felt sorry for her.

This imaginary girl that lived on the street, out in the cold without any clothes to wear. So, I felt sorry for her, and gave up my old clothes. When they would have just gone to Goodwill or Salvation army instead. The poor I guessed, but there wasn’t exactly a whole lot of homeless people around, because the city ran them off.

Even before that, I never saw any homeless girls, little girls around the soup kitchen. They were all grown men, and a few women, but not as much as you’d expect. Runaways? They get caught. I had this one friend that tried to run away from home when we’re 9, and she didn’t even get caught. The police didn’t pick her up, nor even really look for her when she was missing. She just got hungry, and lonely before the weekend was half over, until she went back home, and then decided that it wasn’t so bad after all.

So, I went in the bathroom to take a bath, and get dressed for bed. Since I had a brother, and he had a friend over, I had extremely modest pajamas to wear. Wouldn’t want to cause any temptation, walking around in a skimpy night gown, and panties before bed. I had another friend that just wore one of her dad’s old teeshirts, and panties. April didn’t have any brothers, and I had to loan her some pajamas when she came over to spend the night. Because I had a brother, who might be overcome with lust if he saw her barely dressed for bed, but that never happened.

At least they’re warm, and comfortable, but then Gus seemed to lose interest. Because I took off my tight sweater, and even though I wasn’t wearing a bra, the lose cotton left everything to his imagination, but then he went right in the bathroom after me. Later on, I guess my supper worked it’s way through my system. So, I had to go back, lock the door, and pull down my pajama bottoms to take a dump.

We had a laundry hamper in the bathroom, so we didn’t have to take our dirty clothes back to our rooms, and it helped keep our rooms clean too. I had friends that just kicked their dirty clothes under their bed, or just left them all over their floors until their moms made them clean it up. I even helped them do the laundry while I was over there, but that’s not what caught my eye.

The dress was stuffed down the side, when it should have been right on top. Somebody had stuffed it almost to the bottom, and it was all twisted up. Badly, almost as if he’d tied it in a knot. So, I pulled it out worried about wrinkles, for some reason. Even though mom was going to wash, and dry them. Then iron anything that needed it, before I found them folded up on my bed to put away in the dresser, or hang up in the closet.

“Huh!” Then, my underwear fell out, when I unwrapped it. Like a present, and when I picked them up, I already had some idea why they might be stuck together. “Snh?” Sure enough, I had no idea what semen would smell like, but I was curious, and it had dried into a white crust I found when I pulled apart the folds where they stuck together.

So, that answered that question. What Gus would have done, or wanted to do with me, or more specifically my underpants. Of course, they were fairly clean. I wiped carefully, and that reminded me to get out the toilet paper. Fold it up to cover my fingers first, and then twist up more to wet in the sink. Wring that out, and brace myself for the chill.

The wet toilet paper down my crack, and getting the last bit of filth off my pucker before dropping it in the toilet. I just pulled my undies back up, then my pajama bottoms, and pulled the drawstring tight. Washed my hands, and flushed the toilet, then went off to bed.

I knocked on Isaak’s door, and looked in to say “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Gus looked up from the floor, but he didn’t bring any pajamas. So, he was wearing an undershirt, and tighty whiteys. I couldn’t see anything but the triangle flap of his fly, crosslegged on some cushions they got off the couch. To make a little place to sleep on the floor, just like my friends did, when they spent the night, but that got me thinking.

Well, honestly, I started thinking about what’s inside a lot earlier. Even before he came over on Saturday night, so he could come to church with us Sunday morning, but then I got to see his bare legs. “Huh!” I smelled his cum, and even though I’d buried my soiled underpants in the hamper again, I could remember that smell once I got into bed.

I knew he’d gotten a boner, and I tried to remember if I’d ever given him a view between my legs. I knew better, to sit demurely in public, and cross my legs. Pull down the hem of my skirt when I sat down, but when I’m at home, I tend to relax.

So did mom, it’s not like she put her legs up on the coffee table. With her knees wide open, so her skirt fell down, and the crotch of her underwear was sticking out for anyone to see. I didn’t sit like that either, but it was still possible that without thinking, I’d given him a glance up my skirt.

Or, he’d done something, perverted to get a look up my skirt. Nothing obvious like dropping his fork to duck under the dinner table, and look between my knees. Before he’d gone in the bathroom, right after I took a bath. So, my undies weren’t still warm, and of course those were the last things I took off. Kicked in the hamper on top of my bra, so they were right there in front of him when he turned around. With his dick out, and still in hand so all he had to do was pick them up. Smell them until he got hard, then rub his dick in the bottom until they caught his wad shooting out.

“Huh!” I liked to think that maybe I’d done something to tempt him. Even something as innocent as leaving my warm dirty underwear on top, for him to find them. Which got me feeling my relatively clean underwear.

Through my pajama pants, but soon enough, I tried to untie the drawstring. Then, I had to pick apart the knot when one loop got caught in the other. It was frustrating, when I just wanted to get my hand in there, and imagine it was Gus. He’d want to get his hands in my pants, because he was a boy, that lusted after me, but also pretty close to a man.

I’d played innocent. All my life, even before I had any interests to hide, I wasn’t completely innocent. Oh, I suppose that the first time I just nodded, and pretended not to know what they were talking about, it was aunt Beth’s baby shower.

No wait, even before that, they had a Wedding Shower, and joked about her wearing White. Then, uncle Jethro joking about the Bachelor party, and how their favorite strippers were at the club with my dad. “Oh,” right, they sent us kids away when they got past all the appliances, at the wedding shower.

Mom made sure to get bananas for the party, and she put some in the Strawberry Banana Sundae she made in a big Trifle Bowl, with ice cream, and chantilly from the mixer. Practically a Banana Split, except she sliced them, and we got to lick the beater. It was sweet from powdered sugar, but there was a bunch of leftover bananas, because she’d bought extra, for the party.

We didn’t understand that, until mom brought out the last box, and sent us kids away. Of course, we tried not to giggle too loudly. Listening in, through the dining room door, while Aunt Beth practiced putting a rubber on the banana. I knew about that, heck I’d read the instructions on the box myself when I’d found it in the box after the party.

The grownups played a game to see how much banana they could bite off, and I played the same game with my friends, only without rubbers. Sometimes, we used hot-dogs instead of bananas, but I knew exactly what we’re practicing. I even remembered the pictures that came with the box of rubbers. To show how to put the cap on, roll the ring down, and leave a little extra reservoir tip for the semen.

I guess I fell asleep, rubbing my panties into my damp crotch, and thinking about Gus. His penis, and dreaming up plausible stories about how his semen ended up in my dirty ones. In the bathroom, he left the seat up. I think, either I remembered putting it down so I could take a dump, or I added that little detail to my wet dream, but regardless, he started off taking a piss.

Somehow, I was able to see right through the bathroom door, even though it didn’t have an antique keyhole that went all the way through. So, you could unlock it from either side, of course the last place you’d want that sort of door lock is in the bathroom. So, anyone that had the key could walk in. When you’re on the pot, or naked. Dripping wet, or sitting up topless in the bathtub. So you’d have to cover yourself up, and duck below the bubbles to hide your nudity.

As I was dreaming, a lot of things just ran together in flashes, so one moment I was watching him through the door. Unzipping his pants, and fishing it out to hold it. Bloating, and then the dirty yellow stream falling into the toilet with that loud wet hollow sound of it hitting the water from a pretty good height.

“Huh!” I woke up, blinking in the dark, with my hands up under the covers. Holding my breast, as if I was lying down in the bathtub, and the quilt was the bubbles covering the warm water, and my nakedness. The last thing I remembered was a flash back to him pissing, before he turned around, and pulled my underwear out. To sniff them while he was pulling it hard in his hand.

The doorknob rattled again, and there was light shining through my eyelid from the door. I cracked it to see the latch sticking out, and the hall light shining in brighter, and brighter.

I let my breasts go, and tried not to rustle the quilt, too much putting my arms down on my tummy. I don’t know why, I held them together like grandpa in his coffin. Or Sleeping Beauty, or Snow White, I suppose that’s where I got that image in my head.

Before he stuck his head in to see me like that, I took a deep breath just to push the quilt up with my flattened breasts. It felt extremely heavy, so they flattened out even more than gravity alone, but I tried to put myself in his place. Imagine the view he got when he looked in on me, and pose for him, but mad at how flat chested I must look like that.

I closed my eye, until the door thumped, and the knob rattled again. So he could close it, and let it latch. He let the knob go with another quiet rattle, but I could hear him breathing. In the room with me. Excited, and trying to keep it quiet, so he didn’t wake me up. Then, he felt the side of the bed. Up the cover to my arm, then over to my shoulder. He shook me gently, but he didn’t say my name, to see if I would wake up.

I felt, strangely calm. Excited, but somehow, I had no trouble whatsoever controlling my breath. Pushing my hands up with my tummy, but slowly taking in a lungfull of breath, then slowly letting it out, because the wait was almost over.

I knew that once he’d gotten up, and snuck into my room, he was going to touch me. Sure enough, he felt down to the top of the quilt, and lifted it back to uncover one side of my chest. Then, he felt around to squeeze my breast gently, and his hand shook, but slowly. A little too hard to be nervous, until I heard a quiet muffled clap.

A slow rhythm, like the beat of mom, and dad’s headboard against the wall. They may be Christian, but they’re also married. So, they can satisfy each other’s sexual needs, and mom even used birth control. Showed her younger sister in law how to put on a rubber, so they could have sex until they’re ready to have children. They even played oral sex games with all the ladies gathered around. Laughing and joking about how much they could bite off.

“HUH!” He took a deep breath, loudly in the dark quiet room, and held it. So, he didn’t moan, but the loud fapping slowed down, and went silent. His grip on my breast, through my pajama top relaxed, and he let go, but I didn’t even feel it hitting the covers. “Huh!” He let go, and backed off. To the door, I heard him feel around for the knob, and rattle it loudly.

I tried to take a deep breath, as if I was still sleeping, but I couldn’t help the excitement. As soon as I smelled his fresh semen, and I even gasped when I saw it shining in the hall light. He’d cum on my quilt, most of it on the inside, where he folded it back, but left it that way in his haste to escape.

He just got to second base, but he left me something to touch. In the dark, once he’d shut the door, and left me to pull my hands out. Feel it soaking into the cordaroy backing, and the stitches pulled through to hold the patches on the other side. Sniff it, and lick it off my fingers. My first taste of it, then sucking them, and rubbing my crotch again with my clean hand.

In my pajama pants, through my underpants, then pulling the crotch out of the way to get my fingers dirty. Smelly, and eventually damp when it started leaking out again. After drying myself thoroughly with the cotton crotch, but I got the most intense orgasm with my head full of the scent of sex juices, and the aftertaste of his still clinging to my tongue.

I had to hold my breath, so I didn’t moan out loud, but of course it wasn’t my first orgasm. Not even close, because of my lack of faith, nor a confessional to worry about. I let my dirty thoughts run wild, and my hands all over my body once it started developing. I even imagined men, not boys. Grabbing me, and sticking their hands inside my clothes.

Molesting me I suppose, since I always played innocent before. I guess it was the game I played with myself, pretending to be an innocent little girl at the mercy of dirty old men, taking advantage of my innocence. Like Gus thinking I was asleep, so I wouldn’t know that he snuck in to grope me, and stupidly leaving the evidence for me.

His semen, all over the place. Okay, just wadded up in my underpants, wrapped up in my dress, and stuffed down the hamper where he thought nobody would find it? I didn’t pass out, but I drifted off satisfied, with the sex smells still filling my head, and the tangy aftertaste clinging to my tongue.

Thinking about him. Gus, and all I learned about the way he thought. Knowing how he felt for me, the lust for me, and especially my breasts. So careless, or overcome with lust, he just shot it all over my quilt. Inside, and out, but I was grateful for that gift. At first to taste, and smell, while I relieved the sexual tension I’d been building up all night.

Starting that afternoon, when Gus looked right at me, my tight sweater, then invited himself over to spend the night. “Check out your church, to see what all the fuss is about.” Of course, Isaac jumped at the chance to save one of his friends. A sinner, but that was just an excuse.

To get into our house, my dirty underpants, then my room to grope me in bed. He could have gone farther, much father, and felt down my panting tummy to my hot fragrant crotch. I had hands, so I had to do it myself, that night. But of course, he was there in the morning when I woke up.

Grinned, and stretched in the morning light, shining through my curtains. “Huh!” I sat up, unbuttoning my pajama top, in the mirror. Over my dresser, I smiled, and practiced doing it sexily. Strip teasing him, showing more and more of what was inside my baggy warm cotton flannel pink button up pajama top.

“Huh!” Getting nice and warm in my panties, then I had to pull the crotch over. It had gotten bunched up along the side, but once I got up, my untied pajama pants sagged down. So, I turned around, back and forth to shake my hips, and stretch them tight over my buttocks. Looking back over my shoulder, and getting that pose just right.

Smiling, and blushing, my face looking innocent and shy, but my clothes, and hands inside them saying the exact opposite. Shaking the pants down my legs, and popping the last button so I could go back to turning around. Giving glimpses inside, and drying my damp sex as needed.

“Huh?” Finally, people started getting up, and moving around the house. In the hallway, the bathroom, and heading down to the kitchen. So, I finished taking off my clothes, and got dressed for Church. Of course, my Sunday Best are even more modest, and concealing than even my school dress code.

Conservative, you don’t even want to hint at being adolescent, much less having any body underneath. Tempting anyone at church, boys or girls that might have some same sex attractions.

Okay, I’m more than a little bicurious. I’m dirty minded, always was, and that includes all kinds of sex. With boys, girls, boys and girls, group sex with other couples, or just watching them fuck. Not make love, fuck. With the lights turned on, and the covers pulled back, so you can see his dick pumping in and out of her twat. Maybe a little gap between the curtains if they didn’t pull them closed carefully enough first. Or in the back seat when they had to go for a drive, and find a spot where they think nobody will catch them at it. Even watch her breast shake with each hard thrust.

“Huh!” I wrapped my undies up in the quilt, but when I came out. Isaac, and Gus were in the bathroom, running water in the sink with the door open, and combing their hair wet, so the parts stayed in place.

Gus looked over at me immediately, and I must have made a face. “What?” He looked away guilty, but I just told him the truth.

“You look weird all cleaned up.” I took my blanket, and undies down the hall, but then Isaak came down to the laundry room with the hamper, and said. “While you’re running laundry.” He just dropped it, and went back up, while I was busy stuffing the quilt in the washing machine.

“Uh!” None of my seductive plans were working, and without even trying, Isaac was effectively cock-blocking me. “Huh!” So, I pulled out my underwear, and put them on. That cooled off the hot lust under my dress until they warmed up again, but this time, I put them on inside out. On purpose, so I could get both sides as infused with my lust stench as possible, but I had to change plans.

I had thought to confront him with my dirty quilt, but that didn’t work. My stupid brother ruined that plan without even trying. So, I took my panties from the hamper, and stuck those under my arm. To get them warm, and then I put my favorite sweater on to hold them. The difference was that I didn’t put a bra on either. So, my breasts were free to stick out a little more. Bounce, and shake when I moved around, but even at the breakfast table, I couldn’t get him alone.

That was driving me nuts, but watching him try not to look really helped me keep my lust up. He kept looking out of the corner of his eye, instead of turning his head. He held it down to peek under his eyebrows, but straight ahead. I could practically feel every glance. The pressure of his eyes on my chest, and I got really good at breathing.

Instead of deep down in my tummy, or gasping, and panting shallowly, I filled up my rib cage. So it spread out, and puffed up my chest. Just like last night, when he finally came in, panting so loudly that I could hear his excitement. Only this time I was sitting up, so instead of flattening out, they could stretch my sweater even tighter with every breath. Again, I had no trouble at all breathing high up in my chest. Which made it even more obvious that I wasn’t wearing a bra.

Then, mom cleared the table, and stacked all the dishes in the sink to wash later when she was starting Sunday Dinner. “You want to stay for Sunday dinner?” I offered, setting up a plan C just in case I didn’t get him alone at church. “Mom, tell him what we’re having.”

“Well, I haven’t really thought about it yet,” but Isaac had to sit in the middle of the back seat. Between me, and Gus, so I couldn’t feel his body heat, and he wasn’t tempted to reach over. Feel my legs, and rub them through my skirt. “Huh! Huh!” I had trouble breathing, and I had to interrupt mom. Talking about Sunday dinner to ask, “Can you turn down the heat? It’s getting a little too hot back here.”

“Oh, you’re burning up.” She reached across the back seat to feel my face, and my forehead with the back of my head. “Honey, I think she has a fever, so she might be getting sick.”

“No, I’m fine. I don’t want to miss Church, and practice for the Nativity play. I have choir practice, but I’m all right.”

I lied, of course I was sick. Sick with lust, and Gus was right there behind her. Looking out the window, when I said I was hot, and crossing his legs over against the door. Uncomfortably, you would think that he’s just trying to avoid touching my brother. Because that would be gay, when I knew that was far from the truth. It wasn’t homosexual thoughts that were making him uncomfortable, and while I can’t say that I knew exactly what he was thinking, I knew that they were about me.

Last night, and maybe making him feel a little guilty? He’s not a Christian, not yet, and the only reason why he wanted to come over yesterday was to look at me. Beat off in my underwear, and sneak into my room to grope me in bed. Tease me, honestly all this teasing was driving me nuts, but in a good way. A great way, because the more the sexual tension builds up, the better it feels when it finally snaps.

Like last night, if I’m going to get even close to another climax like that, I’m going to have to build up to it all over again, and besides.

I like this game, especially now that I have someone to play it with, at church…

;

Gus (mf Blasphemy)

“What a boring place. Even this building was just some warehouse I guess. That’s what it looks like to me, they just painted it white, and put a cross on top. So you’d know it was a church.

At least the Catholics, and Anglicans put up something interesting to look at. You know, stained glass, arches, buttresses, gargoyles, and stuff? I’m no stranger to Church, I even believed in that.” Bullshit. “When I was too young to really think about it, but come on, man.

How many times do you have to pray for something, before you realize that they get answered about as often as you’d expect from dumb luck? When you don’t get what you want, you say “It’s not God’s will,” but when you do, you act like it’s a Miracle. “Our prayers are answered!”

Yeah, right. When actually, you’re just talking to yourselves, and the big imaginary friend in the sky. Jesus, I’m pretty sure was just insane, but he had some pretty good stuff to say. Even if he wasn’t delusional, all that about letting he without sin throw the first stone was just common sense.

Don’t be such hypocrites. Maybe if he came right out, and said that then they wouldn’t be judging everyone else all the time. Asking forgiveness for their sins, but some of those sins are just plain stupid. “Don’t even think about it,” like in the 10 commandments: “Thou Shalt Not Steal” is just common sense.

Thou Shalt Not Covet, thy neighbor’s House, Wife, Slaves, Animals, or anything else. Okay, that’s not just “Don’t even think about it,” but it’s okay for your neighbor to have Slaves, and list HUMAN BEINGS right before livestock? Treat them like animals to pull stone blocks, and build pyramids out of them like the Egyptians, just as long as you’re not jealous of how many slaves they have?” I scoffed, “What’s really fucked up is that Christians didn’t even write that part. That’s in Exodus, so you’d think that Jews of all people would know better than that.”

“Well, they said Asses.” Isaak joked back, but he wasn’t just starting to listen to reason. “They didn’t say anything about your neighbor’s tits?”

“Well,” I grinned, “She’s not my neighbor.” Long past doubting the stupid teachings he grew up with.

“There you are,” his girlfriend came out, so he dropped his cigarette, but she picked it up to smoke. Leading him down the funeral path.

“I’ll see you later,” I lied, so she wouldn’t suspect. Then, I followed them down to the graveyard to watch them fuck.

She’s Goth. 24/7, but one day a week she strips off the black nail polish, and puts on a Sunday dress. “Huh, they should have named her Wednesday.” I can’t really take credit for converting him over to Atheist, but she’s not a Satanist. She’s not even Wiccan, and she doesn’t believe in Vampires either.

He said she joked about laughing in the face of Death, at his grandfather’s funeral. They were really close, so he was pretty broken up when he drowned. Fell out of his fishing boat, drunk, and drowned. Such a stupid death and so senseless, I guess that’s what finally made him lose his Faith, but April.

Maybe she took advantage of it, but he said she made him feel better. I bet, a blowjob tends to do that, but she was way past laughing in the face of death. I don’t really get her fetish for fucking on holy ground, or in a graveyard, but it was just a boring park to me.

“Idolitry,” they called it. Or, [Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water underneath.]

They had that, literally engraved in stone. Over the arch to enter their graveyard.

“Huh, so that’s it.” That explains why everything was so plain, and boring. They didn’t have any Stained Glass, Gargoyles, or Statues around the graves. Just a single arch, with that over the keystone so that you didn’t forget it, and put up anything except for boring stones, with names, and dates on it.

Maybe that’s too much like Ancestor Worship, I don’t know, but I had to cut along the fence. They didn’t go straight back where I could see them down the double path. The dirt road for the backhoe to drive down, and dig out a grave to drop a coffin in. Maybe it’s necrophilia? Not like actually fucking a dead body, let alone his dead grandad, but that’s not what they mean when they’re called “Stiffs.”

It’s cold out here, but I’ll warm up. “Huh!” Right here, where I can see her sitting up. Topless, and humping him. Lying down between 2 graves, so they’re not going that far. Fucking right on top of someone’s grave, even if they’re not looking down from heaven, or they won’t rise from the dead to chase them off as Zombies. It’s too disrespectful, even for her.

“HOW? MH!” I shook my head, and pushed her hand off. “What the fuck?”

I pulled my underwear up, while she bent to pick her’s up off the grass. She giggled, and showed me.

“What the fuck, exactly.” She stuck her fingers out, to show the dried cum stains in the back. “Maybe you should try these instead.” She pulled another pair out of her sweater, and held them up. “They’re nice, and warm. I bet you can smell my lust.”

“Uh!” I bent down to take a deep breath. “Snh!” Through my nose, but then she stuffed the other pair down my pants.

“Sh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you?” I shook my head, slowly, but her hand followed my mouth, so my nose was still buried in the warm cotton. “Hold them up. You like smelling my panties?”

“Snh, yeah. They’re really, snh? Fresh.”

“Well, I’ve been drying out my juices all day, and all night.” I barely even started going soft, from the surprise, before she started rubbing the other pair in the crotch of my underwear. She stuffed them in the fly, and patted it. “Huh, now I’m hot.”

She said that in the car, and her face was real red, but her mom thought she was getting a fever. I wanted to believe that she ment that, she was hot for me. Maybe I wasn’t just imagining that she stuck her chest out. Of course, she did it so much that it looked like she’d grown 2 bra sizes overnight, until she pulled her sweater up.

Her dress wide open, she’d unbuttoned it underneath, and she didn’t have a bra on. “Huh, you took your bra off?” I felt inside, and they were even warmer than last night.

“Oh, your hands are cold.” She pushed my wrists, and pulled them out. Shivered, and bit her lip. “But you’re even warmer in here.” She looked down, and pulled my underwear out. Her cum filled panties still bulging in the fly, she got down, right in front of me, and held her dress open with both hands.

“Oh, MUFF!” I covered up my mouth, and turned around. To lean back up against the wrought iron bars, just in case my knees went weak. So she could squeeze her hot soft tits around my hard dick, and shake them up and down. With her hands, back and forth, so they rubbed up one side, and down the other. I couldn’t hold my hand up, so I stuffed the sex soaked cotton in my mouth, and reached up to hold onto the bars.

In between the spear shaped tops of the fence, there was a black painted C beam turned downwards I could hang onto. “Huh, yeah, you like my breasts.”

“Uph!” I couldn’t answer.

“You just couldn’t resist the temptation to feel one last night.”

“Huh!” She woke up?

“Yeah, cum on them. Huh, cum all over my breasts!”

“Uh uph ph!”

“Huh, huh huh!” She stopped humping both of them up, and down, then sat back when I finished blowing my load. Her sweater slipped down, while she was buttoning her dress back up under it. She shook her head. “No, I never even put one on in the first place.” She pulled her hands out, and patted her chest. “Figured it would get in the way.”

I finished zipping up my pants, buttoning, and buckling my belt. Then, I pulled the panties out of my mouth. “Huh, so you did wake up last night.”

“No? I was already awake, and rubbing those panties in to dry my cunt.”

I blinked, but that was the first time she said anything more explicit than lust, or breasts. She just dropped the C word like a bomb, and despite myself, I was shocked.

She giggled, and it almost sounded evil. Dirtier than even April’s, because you could tell it was a little fake. She giggled innocent, then switched to an evil laugh. As soon as she heard how cute, and innocent she sounded, but not Ruth.

“What? You didn’t really think I was still that innocent, or I wouldn’t know what cumstains looked like this morning. Even if I wasn’t already playing with myself, waiting for you to come in, and make a move?”

“Well, I didn’t know.” I offered my hands, and pulled her up, to put my arms around her.

She reached up between us, and messed up my hair. “Well, you look stupid, trying to act all clean cut. When you’re really so dirty inside.”

“Yeah?” I leaned down, and kissed her, finally.

“Smooch! Yeah, me too.”

“How dirty are we talking about?”

“Huh,” she took my hand, and led me off. “Well, let me tell you, but I better get back before Choir practice is over.”

“Why?”

“Oh, that was my alibi. My parents think I’m in Choir practice, so they won’t wondering who I got off to.”

“Huh, hahahah!”

She laughed at her little joke too. “Yeah, but if I don’t come back in with the rest of them.”

“Here,” I pulled the damp wad of underwear out of my pocket.

“Keep them to remember me bye.” She felt the front of her sweater, and smoothed it down between her breasts. “And thanks for this. I finally feel as dirty on the outside as I am inside.” She hopped up on her toes, and kissed me. Then ran off around the building before I could even hug her back. Hold her soft round breasts against my chest.

“Snh, huh!” I put them back in my pocket to keep them warm, then rubbed the bulge in my fly just to feel them there. 2 pairs of underwear. 2 dirty pairs, but if she calls them breasts, then her pussy Cunt.

I guess I’ll have to learn what dirty words she prefers while I get my pack out, and light up to wait…

;

Succubus (f/m BDSm. Necrofetish.)

“Where’s the rubber?” I got my dress unbuttoned before we got far enough back.

“Oh shit.” He patted his pockets, “I forgot.”

“Uh!’ I pushed him, “Then lay down on the ground.” I should have just cut him off, to teach him a lesson for forgetting. God damn it, I was already too hot, and we don’t get a whole lot of chances to do it. So, I just pulled my arms out, and bunched it around my waist to give him something to look at.

“No.” I sat down, and shook my hips to split my underwear over his fly. “You don’t get to touch.” I slapped his hands. “Put your hands up.” I held them up over his hard, and “NGHM!” Bit my lip when the zipper ground through the doubled flap of his fly, the crotch of my underwear, and I think the zipper pull hit my clit. “Huh!” I opened my eyes, and sat up, to pull down my bra straps. Turn it around, and unhooked them. “Give me your hands.” I tied them up with the straps, and told him “Put them up. Hold them there, and don’t move. Don’t even breathe uh!” Started humping his bulge. “Huh, yeah. You’re not going to forget again.”

“No,”

“Shut up, that wasn’t a question.” I looked him in the eyes, and covered his mouth with my fingers. “You will NOT. Uh, forget, again. Huh, uh! Huh ah! Huh! You understand.” He nodded, silently, and kissed my fingers. “Huh, good. You’re a good little boy, when you’re not so forgetful. Open your mouth, but not biting. Uh, suck my fingers, but don’t. Ngh! I don’t want to feel teeth,. Huh suck them but no teeth. Huh!” He rubbed my fingertips with his tongue, nodding, but all this.

I don’t want to say it, but he can forget to grab one of his father’s rubbers more often. it gave me a good reason to punish him, because he is such a good boy. It’s a little annoying, especially when he was still a good little boy, but he’s learning how to sin. I saw him crying, and in spite of myself. I felt sorry for him, but now he’s so obedient, and submissive.

“Huh, uh! Fuck, huh! HhuhHhuh!” Finally, the heat broke, and I felt the chill run up my back. Shivered, and the goose bumps followed it in a wave of pleasure. “Huh!” I fell down, turning my head to rest my face on his shirt, and sniffed to smell the smoke on his shoulder. “Huh! Huh! You can put your arms around me, now.”

“You’re satisfied?” His wrist bumped me with my bra cup, patting my back.

“Huh, yeah.” I shivered, “But it’s cold out here.”

“Well, I’m still hard.”

“Oh, yeah.” I sat down next to him. “I guess, you’re good enough to make up for being so forgetful.” I acted like I didn’t want a nice desert to wash it down with, but he likes these games too. He used to think that it was okay, and more forgivable if he didn’t do anything. He just let me have my way with him, but over the last 3 years.

My, he’s grown. He’s not a 12 year old any more, and he doesn’t just have hair on them, but he’s got more than a mouthful.

“Oh, huh!”

“Smup huh!” I held it out, and squeezed it. Just to watch the second drop roll down, licking my lips to taste the first, and feeling the rest back up behind my thumb. “Huh, that was quick!” I licked it off like a dripping ice-cream comb, then let go so the rest ran out on a thick blob. “Oomph! Smup!” Right in my mouth.

“Huh!” He hunched when it slipped out of my lips, but I gripped him tighter. “Uh, huh!” He hunched, with each stroke, sipping over his sensitive knob to keep him hard. Gripping it, and twisting it in my fist. “HhuhHhuh!” He put his hands up, and my bra behind his head so it didn’t hit the ground after each hunch. “Hhere!” He grimaced, with a rictus grin, and his eyes clenched so tight, they sank into his skull, so I could let go, and pop it back in my mouth for the second cumming.

“Ngh ngh ngh!” Rubbing the bulge to swallow each spurt, and feel the next run up against my tongue, until he went soft. Rolling my lips in to cover my teeth, and milk out the last drop.
“Smup! Puh!”

“Huh! Huh!” He just caught his breath, deeper, and slower, so eventually he sounded asleep, and then got quieter, and quieter.

By then, I got my bra off his wrists, so he could fold his hands on his chest, and hold his breath.

I stood up, buttoning my dress, and looked down on him.

Quiet, cold, and dead. But at least he died happy. “Come on.” I pulled his hands. “Before we have to dig a grave, and bury you.”

“Yeah,” he checked the time, then dropped his grandfather’s watch back in his pocket. “The Choir’s done practicing for the Nativity Play.”

“Uh!” I rolled my eyes.

“I know, you like the passion play better.”

“Of course, you’ve got blood, whips, and Jesus dying, nailed up to a cross. The crown of thorns so tight, that they stabbed into His head, and made Him bleed.” I always get to play Mary Magdalene, but how do you think I got this way? Well, I’ll tell you:

It’s a fucking Death Cult. Why do you think they pray to the Cross? Eat bread, and pretend it’s cannibalism, drink wine, and pretend it’s Blood?

They might like to believe that it’s something else. That it’s a celebration of birth, and rebirth. Eternal life, and salvation, but I like the other parts. The death, torture, slavery, blood, and damnation. No, I’m not an Atheist, I’m not even a witch. I can’t identify as Satanist since Anton La Vey twisted it into his hippy dippy “Left Hand Path.”

I’m a Heretic, a temptress, leading the faithful away from the straight and narrow path completely. From a long line of Evil Christians, who tortured and murdered people for Heresy, or Infidelity. Like the Passion of Jesus, tortured, and executed for bringing a Word the world couldn’t accept.

For those who hear the Word, but do not understand it are the seed that fell by the roadside. Like Saul, Satan came, and snatched it from their hearts. Paul took the Word of God away from Simon Peter. The first Pope, and ran with it all the way to Rome, from Antioch.

Yet the seed that fell on rocky ground, they seemed to take at first. These are those that hear it, but then adversity comes, and they renounce their faith when it’s tested. Like Isaac, my boyfriend’s poor deluded soul.

The seed that fell amongst the thorns was choked by greed, jealousy, and the temptation to judge others. Like these bad Christians, and their holier than thou assholetudes. So, they shall be judged when the time comes.

I’m the Thorns, the seed found fertile ground in me, but not my Heart. A little lower, but I know God. I know Jesus, and I’ve heard their Word.

I just chose Hell. Satan’s a lot more fun, and when I get there. Maybe I can teach Him a thing or 2 about how to lead men into Temptation. Away from the wayside, to snatch the Word of God from their hearts, and lead their souls to eternal Damnation.

I’ve already got 1 soul I led off the path when his Faith was tested by grief. So, I’ll show Him how to punish him first. His little sister seems to be feeling a little doubt lately, too. So, maybe I can start to twist the Word of God out of her. If I start slow, and subtle so they likes it, at first. Then, I can sink in the Thorns to bleed the rest out of them.

That’s how I take root, deep down in their hearts. To choke the blood out of them, and with it the Word of God. Their Souls to make them MINE to torture in Hell!

Forever, and ever.

Amen.

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