Chapter 5
"Father, I have sinned."
Miss Theresa Rexhaven crouched in the confessional, taking solace in the Sanctuary of the Jason Maxwell School for Girls. Her head was bowed to her fallen breasts in penitence.
"Amen," said the cleric. "Proceed."
"Mine is both a sin of commission and a sin of omission, Father," said the headmistress. "It was committed many years ago but I have never told you of it. You know that I have taken confession here many times."
"I do."
"Yet I have never confessed to this immense sin. In all my years confessing the terrible, wicked things that I have done, I have never mentioned this enormity. Can I be forgiven?"
"Certainly. There is mercy in Our Savior for every sinner, who gave his only Son to die for your sins."
"Thank you, Father. Before I go on, may I ask one more question?"
"Certainly."
"May I relate this tale in the manner that is easiest to me? It shall contain no oaths, but is what might be considered vulgar."
"Vulgarity is nothing new. Many of the words that we constantly use today were at one time considered vulgar. Proceed."
"Amen."
Well, when I was 18, I was what might be considered a beautiful young woman. I was vain and sought men who were not worthy of me. I was a cheerleader at the Seyville College.
I was not really voluptuous-I had smooth, creamy, middle-sized tits with brick-red nipples of an average size. I mainly wanted to get married then, and for this desire was fucked with regularity. Some were nice about it, but others weren't. The worst of the lot was Joe, a basketball player.
We went to the show and then out for a hamburger, which was the custom in those days, then went to look at the sea. It was beautiful that night-what little I saw of it. I felt serene, but not horny, and I vowed that on this date I was not going to give my body away. Joe, apparently, had other plans. As soon as he had stopped the engine he reached over and put one of his hands over my left jug. I was wearing a sweater-a tight, thin one, and in spite of myself the warm feel of Joe's palm started to get me hot.
My nipples started to swell and twist at the base, the way they do when they stand up. "Pleases Joe..." I pleaded.
"Sure, Baby," he sniggered and leered, "anything you say."
He put a hand over the other tit and I really started to get hot. But I was still resolved that he wasn't going to fuck me. "Joe," I scolded, "just keep your hands off."
"Come off it, baby," lie replied, and winked, "I've heard all about you. You don't have to play hard-to-get with me. We both think alike, remember?" He was very confident and super-slick. I wanted to slap him, but from the stories that I had heard about him, I didn't dare. Besides, by then I couldn't deny that I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to do it on my terms, but I wanted to feel a big cock inside me, pumping and pounding me. I savored the thought and allowed my nipples to erect themselves even more against Joe's hands.
So there I was. Joe started to caress my boobs and run his hands back and forth across my nipples. I was very excited then, though I tried not to show it, and I could feel that my panties were damp and sticky. Within a few minutes, Joe started breathing very heavily, and he lifted up my skirt and stuck his big hairy hand against my cunt. He could feel how wet I was, and there was no denying that I was hot. I tingled to his first touch, then suddenly he grabbed a fistful of panties and cunt-hair and cunt and twisted it painfully.
I was afraid that Joe was going to be like that. I had heard that he played rough, and I didn't like being handled that way. "Quit it, Joe," I reprimanded him sternly. I fairly shouted it. "I like boys to be gentle with me. If you want any more, you'd better start playing it straight!"
I had to slip down in the seat so that I was leaning against the door while Joe towered over me like a vampire. He was still playing with my tits, and while he was being a little bit rough with them, they Would take more horseplay than my tender pussy would.
I looked up at his face, and knew then that I was in trouble. Joe was drooling a little and his eyes were starting to glaze over. Besides being none too bright, he was a sadist-that far-off look was the easiest way to tell. I was suddenly very afraid.
"Don't hurt me, Joe," I whispered, but he didn't seem to hear.
He pulled my sweater up around my neck and clawed into my jugs. I wanted to scream, but didn't.
"Roll over," he ordered gruffly. I was too frightened not to do what he said, and the prospect of turning over at least got my boobs out of his grimy grasp. As soon as I lay on my stomach, he grabbed my hips and pulled my rear end up in the air. Viciously, he pulled my panties down, and at the same time pulled his fly down and spilled out his cock. It was a mean-looking prong, and I think I gasped. Curly, greasy hair poured out of the opening with the pecker. Until then I had never seen such a big tool. It wasn't very long-only about 5 inches. But it was thick! I knew that my pussy wouldn't hold it, and I started to say something, then I realized with horror that he had no intention of sticking that monster into my pussy. He took the tip of his finger and ran it through the groove of my cunt-it felt good, and was destined to be about the only thing he did to me that felt that way-then took the greasy finger and jabbed it into my ass-hole like a sword.
"Please..." I sobbed again and started to cry.
"Baby," Joe informed me smugly, "you are about to get rode like you ain't never been rode before."
Of that I had no doubt. Even before he entered me I was crying. I had only been fucked probably ten times in my life-all of them inside of three months-and I knew' that if my cunt wouldn't hold his fencepost cock, it was going to tear my ass-hole wide open. But there was nothing I could do. He prodded my pink, puckered butt hole with the tip of his dork, then shoved it in. He didn't go in slowly, intentionally. He had his full weight against me, his slobber dripping onto my cheeks, but I couldn't take him any quicker. My eyes nearly popped out of my head and I screamed at the top of my lungs.
"That's great, Terri," he said. "I wanna hear you scream."
He started fucking me hard then, really pounding. I could feel his balls slapping against my splayed cunt, but it didn't ease the pain.
"Wa-hoooooooo!" he yelled, like a cowboy or a bloodthirsty savage. At last I felt his cum inside me. His cum was so hot that it nearly burned me, deep down where I wasn't accustomed to invasions. He pulled himself out roughly and I screamed again.
"Shut up!" he screamed back. He meant it, I knew.
Without even stuffing his floppy pecker back in his pants, he crawled under the wheel and started the engine, me bawling all the way into town, huddled into a little ball against the door. I don't think that Joe looked at me once.
When he saw a bus stop on his right, he pulled over. "Get out, you whore!" he said. I hopped out eagerly-I was glad to be away from him. My butt hole hurt so bad I could hardly walk, but I hobbled to the bench and sat down to cry.
I knew that it would be morning before a bus came by, and it was not quite midnight. It was going to be a long wait-I could normally have walked it home in twenty minutes, but I didn't think of walking in my condition.
As I sat there crying, a girl my own age came by, walking her dog. I recognized her face-I had seen her at school a few times and at school affairs. She was an athlete, if I recalled... Lily was her name, I remembered. Lily Thrush.
She stopped and looked at me curiously. "What's the matter, honey?" she asked.
She seemed truly sympathetic and interested, but instead of telling her I just shook my head and cried harder.
"Honey," said Lily again, "come with me and let me make you a cup of coffee. You look like you really need one."
"I... I don't know If I can walk," I choked.
"What happened?! " she demanded, then quickly said, "Never mind. You tell me over a cup of coffee. Try to walk now."
I nodded dumbly and stood up. I was glad that she was strong, because I was in no shape for thinking. Jesus, it hurt even to move. Walking was a misery, but I leaned on Lily and we made the two blocks to her apartment building. Her room was on the fifth floor-thank God for the elevator!
She sat me at a table in the kitchen and put the water on, then sat down to talk. "All right," she said steadily, "What's the scoop?"
I was about cried out by then. My make-up must have been a mess, but at least I could talk and there were no more tears streaming down my face. "I... I had a date with Joe Booth. You might know him-he plays basketball. You're Lily Thrush, aren't you?"
"The one and only. You I recognize from the yearbook as Terri Rexhaven. But don't worry about me... you're scaring me, and I'm afraid you're going to go to pieces. Get it off your chest."
"Well, I went out with Joe. I have a bad reputation for fucking, but I was trying to 'mend my ways', and I wouldn't let him do it. Then he raped me."
"Then dropped you off at the bus stop? How did he hurt you?"
"That's the worst part. He raped me up the ass, and he has a very thick cock."
Lily's lips curled in disgust. "That sounds like a typical male athlete. You ought to know those bastards as well as I do," she said with the voice of genuine experience. "They're beasts, to a man."
"Do they ever do this sort of thing to you?"
"Uh-uh," Lily asserted. "Men don't do with me at all." She didn't sound at all unhappy about it-almost defiant. I wondered what that meant. "Does it still hurt?" she asked.
I smiled ruefully and nodded. "It hasn't quit any,"
"Well, then let me pour the water and I'll have a look at it. A girl can get hurt awful bad."
"I'd appreciate it," I told her. An athlete would know a lot about her body and would be able to tell me if there was anything seriously wrong. I thought that there might be, as bad as it hurt. She poured the water, then beckoned. "Come on. Let's do this in the bathroom."
I rose and hobbled after her toward the John. I noticed as we passed through it that she had a hell of a pad. We went through the living room and the bedroom to the spacious head. There was a thick carpet on the floor and the walls were enameled a bright blue. "This is very nice," I complimented her.
"Thank you," she said. "What I want you to do is stand about two feet from the sink then lean over it and bend at the waist a little." She was very clinical, and I did what she said without hesitation.
She knelt behind me and pulled up the long, pleated skirt that cheerleaders wore and tucked the hem into the waistband, then very slowly pulled my panties down to my ankles. "Step out of your underpants with one foot and part your legs about two feet," she instructed. "Hmmmmm," she said as I assumed the position. "I can see that you're bruised, but there aren't any cuts, and there isn't any blood in your panties." She paused. "That schmuck really did a job on you, didn't he?"
"Yes," I said. It was nearly two-thirty in the morning, and after all the excitement and the late hours, my head was suddenly swimming. I thought that I was going to fall asleep leaning on the sink, though I admit that I was thrilled to have gentle fingers on me for a change. Lily stopped talking but remained in her position, poking at my most intimate places. Once or twice she spread my cheeks, which hurt, but other than that was careful. I fancied in my drowsiness that she was looking at my cunt, which was, after all, spread open right in her face. Imagine that!
Suddenly I had to shit. There was no denying the urge. I was sort of sickish, and everything flooded back to me. I started to cry again.
"Lily," I pleaded. "I have to shit real bad."
"That's a raw deal, honey. Can't you hold it?"
"No," I cried, irrational tears flowing down my face.
"Well, try to let it out slowly then. Here..." She rose and grasped me by my hips and guided me backwards onto the toilet. It hurt something fierce to sit down, and when I tried to let it out even slowly it hurt too bad to continue. I really started to bawl then. I never got like that, even when I was drunk. I'm sure it was an unbecoming sight.
"I can't do it," I said. Lily watched me tenderly for a. minute, then said softly "Okay. Just hold on a minute." She disappeared but was back soon with a plastic bowl. "Stand up," she instructed. "Just like you were before." She had to help me up and guide me into position. I parted my legs a little farther, but not much, then Lily crouched again and held the bowl between them. "Go on," she said. "Take your time."
Even going slow I was in terrible pain. It took nearly fifteen minutes for me to fill the bowl with runny, smelly shit, then I grunted and peed in the bowl to boot, like a two-year-old. I stayed .frozen in position, trying to dry up while Lily cleaned me up with about 8 yards of toilet paper. As she tenderly dried the pee off of my cunt, it dawned on me that I was.... . . horny.
As a matter-of-fact, as Lily brushed across my clit with the moist toilet paper, I came, not once, but twice. She paused before touching me again, so she must have seen my cunt pulsating. I felt very ashamed of it, and a lot of other things, too, and I almost started to cry again, but somehow I managed not to.
Lily treated me right and didn't ask anything in return. I let her put my panties back on and pull them up, like she was my personal handmaiden or something, then let her put her arm around me and guide me to the bedroom. She had a double bed.
"You take half," she said. "You're going to stay, at least until tomorrow. I wouldn't think of turning you out on the streets like this." She was mothering me, and I probably did seem like a dumb, stupid kid to her. I knew that she'd been around the world with sports teams and what-not, and I felt very small. Also sleepy. "I'm exhausted," I said groggily.
"I can imagine," Lily chuckled, "I can loan you some night-things, if you like, Terri. I don't use them, personally, but I still have a few." I shook my head.
"No. I sleep naked, if you don't mind." I thought about it, then grinned. "I guess you've already seen about all there is." We laughed.
"No, not quite all," she said.
I didn't feel ashamed undressing in front of her, the way I sometimes did undressing for boys. So many of them .insulted me, trying to be funny. I felt very sexy.
Of the two of us, Lily probably had the best body. She had very big tits with chunky black nipples that I knew boys liked to chew on. Her ass was firm with a broad crack and as I looked at her across the bed, undressing with her back to me, I could see thick, long red hair between her legs, like the mane on her head. She looked like a sinewy, tawny, proud animal, and I envied her in a lot of ways. It made me kind of horny again to look at her. In spite of my aching ass-hole and two recent orgasms, I could still feel a twinge of lust.
We crawled into bed, back to back, then turned over under the sheet and faced each other. Lily laughed. "Well," she drawled comically, "G'night, Herbert."
"G'nite, Maude." I drawled back. We laughed again.
"Where's m' nitey-nite kiss?" she asked suddenly, still in dialect, and forcing a severe look.
Teasingly, jokingly, I moved forward and kissed her right on the lips. But once I touched her, I didn't want to move. I could feel my passions raging through me again at the touch, and I actually came again and literally squirted my cunt-juice onto my leg. Lily didn't want to break it off, either-she moved toward the center of the bed, slipping a cautious tongue between my lips which I eagerly met with my own. She put her arm around my waist and stroked my side and back as she kissed me the way no man has ever kissed me.
That's where the trouble started, Father. I could have gotten up and ran, but I didn't. I loved it. Over and over in my mind I kept hearing "Lesbian! Lesbian!" and I replied to myself "Yes! Yes!" and it only made me hotter. I was getting close to aiming again, this tune it was coming on slowly, giving me time to get wet and sticky and truly aroused and warm all over. I started playing with Lily's tits and felt the nipples of another girl getting hard in my hands. It was very strange, touching a foreign female body. I was no stranger to foreign pricks, but other tits were mysteries to me.
I knew where to touch Lily. She moved forward until we were touching each other, belly-to-belly on the bed. I gently stroked and caressed those places on her body that I liked to touch or have touched on my own, and she writhed sensuously in my arms. It was with only a little hesitation that I touched her cunt, and as I did I felt her hand on mine. I knew by the ease with which she explored me that I was very wet, and Lily, too, was oily and slippery. I twisted my torso so that I caught one of her tapered tits between my own and heightened Lily's arousal by flopping my pair around it. She made a "V" out of her legs so that her cunt was widespread, imploring me to bolder touches, and I did the same with mine.
It seemed like we kissed and fingered each other for hours, and they were glorious, soaring hours, if that's what they were. Two of Lily's orgasms had drowned the both of us with pussy-oils. The kiss left our mutual, mouths at last and we tongued every bit of each other's face and neck until I finally lowered myself under the linens and plunged into her cunt headfirst, at the same time clamping my thighs around her leg and fucking it pole-dog style. I gobbled it the way I'd wanted so many boys to gobble mine. After only a few minutes, I knew that we were both about to cum. I kept sucking and licking her hairy cunt, loving the foreign feel of her damp pubic hair in my face, until I felt her tremble and I knew that she had cum. I came, too, just about that time-it was nearly simultaneous, what would be an enviable record for 'male-female but very strange, or so I had only heard until then, for two girls.
I learned that Lily had been a Lesbian for a long time, but now I was one, too. We lived together happily for a while, then went our separate, friendly ways looking for more cunts to gobble. Years later, I took the job that I have at Maxwell. I've tried to keep from doing anything to the girls here, but I sometimes can't help myself. I know that they stick their fingers and their faces and anything that they can lay their hand on into their hot, young cunts, but I know that they aren't dedicated Lesbians-they're only spinning their wheels until they finish this ordeal. Maxwell doesn't straighten anyone out--I may as well admit it, but at least they finish their schooling. But let me tell you about one girl..."
There was a girl in my hall who cried for days after she arrived, the way I had the night I "saw the light", She wouldn't quit, wouldn't study, wouldn't do anything but sit in the middle of her bed in a terry cloth robe and sob. I felt sorry for her in spite of the hard show I usually put on. She reminded me so much of myself forty years before.
"Come, come, child," I entreated her. "There are worse things that could happen to you. What's worrying you so?"
"Can I speak frankly with you?" she asked cautiously. There was so much suspicion in her eyes that I was disarmed.
"Of course," I said, and meant it.
"What worries me," she said, "is Lesbians."
"Are you afraid of some of the other girls?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"They aren't really Lesbians, you know," I informed her. "They're only biding their time until they leave, as you, too, will probably do." To my surprise, this brought forth a fresh volley of tears.
"I know," she choked. "I know that they aren't Lesbians. That's my problem, because, frankly, Miss Rex-haven, I like girls. But I heard one of them, a mean-looking, foulmouthed girl, say that any true Lesbian ought to have her titties cut off, and that she would personally do it if she were ever approached by one."
"What's your name, dearie?" I asked.
"Justine."
"Justine, in a lot of ways I know how you feel. When I was your age, I found out that I liked girls better, too. I want you to stop crying now-I'm a Lesbian, and I get along. If you like," I added, "we could get along." I was speaking quickly, blurting things out. I couldn't believe I was telling all these tales. If Justine betrayed me to the other girls, or the school, I'd be ruined. But yet, I could see a softening, a hope in her eyes and I knew that she wouldn't.
"But you're so..." she began.
"Old?" She nodded. "I prefer to think of myself as 'experienced', " I said. But I wasn't nasty about it. I began to see the two of us fucking wildly, and I was practically drooling. Not only was she succulent beyond belief, but we had that one vital thing in common. "Would you like me to "touch" you now?" I offered.
She was silent, then suddenly said, "Touch my tits."
I took the mission with pleasure, doing everything to her budding boobs that I could think of, feeling hot little points grow into my palms as I shuffled around inside the bathrobe. She tossed her head. I knew that she was loving it-she clamped her thighs together and shivered with delight. I started to stick one of my hands between her legs-I was dying to touch her little box, but she said "No!" then sheepishly, in a more pleasant tone, added, "Just my... unh!... tits."
It was obvious that she was cuming, so I banged her globes together and let the rolling nipples rasp against the terry cloth, and she came.
She still sat in the middle of the bed, and I stood beside it afterward. "Would you like me to do you?" she asked. I shook my head.
"Can I look at your cunt, though?" I begged. I wanted to see what I had missed.
She nodded obligingly. "Sure." She parted the robe and spread her legs wide apart in my face.
It was a perfectly ordinary cunt, thick with strawberry-blonde thatch, but as I examined it, creaming in my pants, I noticed that there was not a drop of cunt juice on her or the robe. "No wonder you don't like boys!" I exclaimed.
"That's it," she confessed. "But it sure comes in handy for me. I can masturbate or be as horny as I like anywhere I want and no one ever knows. I used to go off in my pants during gym class four or five times an hour, and never got myself sticky." She paused. "I think that we're going to be good friends, Miss Rexhaven," she said.
"I think so, too," I agreed.
Almost every night until she graduated we found some way to make love. Yes, Father, we made love. We really loved each other.
I miss Justine sometimes. There hasn't been another honest Lesbian since she left. I've had a few girls since then, some that would really do kinky things, but all they actually wanted was a little extra freedom to let some guy get into their pants. Ugh! The thought of a guy makes my ass-hole hurt!
Generally, I don't dare pick on the girls, though most of them are so beautiful that every time I see their firm, naked bodies I start to cream in my undies and it's a quick trip to the head to finger myself, or a big mess.
"I'm fifty-eight, Father. It's been forty years since that night at Lily's, and I haven't had another man since. Pray for me, or I'm going to flat-out rape one of the girls; please pray. Every time I pass one of them I want to stroke her tits or shove my arm in their cunts to the elbow.
God, I'm going crazy.
She was drooling. "Father, give me strength," she sobbed. She was silent for a moment, and in that moment she heard three odd slaps, a grunt from the cleric and a distinct 'splat' against the partition between them... Men! she fumed.
"Say one 'Hail Mary", Sister," admonished the puffing, breathless priest.
"Thank you, Father," Miss Rexhaven returned meekly, and reverently left the stall.
It must have been the old priest, she thought. The young one usually just laughed.