The answer to that question felt obvious to me as well. I didn't even have to hesitate, even though I knew I should have.
Sarah: Whatever you want.
I waited anxiously for his answer. Would he want to meet up right then? Maybe I could sneak back out. Or would it more of a long and drawn out tease, where we would take things a little further each time after our group dates until we couldn't stand it anymore and finally we would feel as if we would just die if we didn't get into Kevin's car and drive to the area known by everyone in school as Make Out Point?
But no answer from Kevin ever came. Instead, there was a knock on my door.
"Sarah, we need to talk."
It was my father.
Holy crap.
Chapter 2 – Sarah
Had he known I'd been online? How could he possibly know?
Suddenly, I had a very bad feeling.
"One second," I said, clicking the "view profile" option on the chat window.
"Sarah, open the door right now," he'd said, knocking harder.
There was a lock on my door, but my dad began dismantling it. I hurried to figure out what exactly he knew, and how. The profile I'd clicked on showed Kevin's picture, and the same cover photo he'd always used. But that was all it showed.
There were no other photos I was used to seeing in Kevin's albums— of him snowboarding down the mountain or skateboarding down stair railings with his friends. There were none of his normal posts quoting Newsboys lyrics or sharing charity drive requests or Bible verse memes.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I searched for "Kevin Kearns" in my friends' list, for what I already knew I would find: two profiles. The one that was the real Kevin Kearns and the other that belonged to—
"Dad?!" I shrieked, as he opened the door to my room.
He'd gotten a drill and taken the handle with the lock off my door, while I was trying to figure out what he was doing outside my room and why he was so mad. Suddenly, it all made perfect, nauseating sense.
I hadn't been talking to Kevin. I had been talking to someone who at some point along the way had made another profile just like Kevin's.
"Young lady, you have broken the covenants of our faith and you have gravely disappointed me," my dad said, as he sat down on my bed and glared at me.
"How could you do this, Dad?" I asked. "When did you make that other profile? Why? This is just sick!"
"The focus is not on me," Dad said, shaking his head. "This is about your disobedient ways and your dark nature. You didn't even realize I had made my own profiles for several of your male Facebook friends. You accepted the friendship requests without even having discernment. You clearly would let anyone do anything in the name of acceptance and peer pressure…"
"Dad, that makes no sense," I told him, trying to calm him down and calm myself down as well. "If I thought I knew them, of course I'd accept their requests. "It's not as if I was accepting requests from perfect strangers."
"I knew you and that Kevin boy would be up to no good," my dad said, ignoring what I had just been saying. "I saw him kiss you and I decided…"
"You saw him kiss me?" I exploded. "You followed us?"
Where had he been? I hadn't seen his car parked in the parking lot of the ice cream parlor but my mind had been otherwise occupied.
"I can't help it if I happened to have a hankering for Applebees' chips and salsa at the same time you were leaving the ice cream parlor," my dad said.
So that explained it. He had gone to the restaurant closest to the ice cream parlor's parking lot. Just to spy on me and see what I was up to. He'd seen Kevin kiss me. Then he'd gone online and messaged me to see how far I would go with Kevin.
He'd found out, alright. And then he'd made my life a living hell because of it.
"You can't be trusted with dates, even group dates," he'd said. "And you can't be trusted on the Internet, either."
He did everything he could to shame me into submission, into chastity. And it worked, because he turned me into a social pariah.
First, he sat me down in front of my younger siblings and announced my sins. He'd told them that because of my deviancy and perversion, I'd lost all Internet privileges. He took the computer out of my room and he changed the password to the family computer in the living room. He told them that if any of them was caught giving me the password, they'd lose their Internet privileges as well.
He put a new handle on the door to my room, but it didn't have a lock on it. He told me he could come into my room at any time and that he would always be checking on me.
He made me go up in front of the congregation and give testimony. I had to confess my sins— letting Kevin Kearns kiss me and then saying I would let him do anything to me— and explain that this was a sin and that I had asked Jesus for forgiveness and to cleanse my body and mind and make me pure again.
And that isn't even the worst thing my dad did. The worst thing he did was to post our conversation on Facebook, tagging Kevin and telling him that he corrupted me and that he was responsible for my fall from grace. Kevin was as mortified as I was— not that he ever told me that, because he never talked to me again.
But I heard about Kevin's reaction through the grapevine, just as I heard that other classmates laughed hysterically and thought the whole thing was hilarious. They thought I was hilarious. All because of one little kiss.
After that I, was the laughingstock of the school. No one wanted to date me for fear of what my dad would do. I got a few dates with boys from a neighboring town but as soon as they found out my dad was the pastor of our church they kept their distance from me. I once scooted closer to a boy on his couch, after he had invited me and a friend over to watch a movie, and he had recoiled from me. Later, that friend told me he was telling people, "The rumors are true. Sarah is really forward, slutty even."
You'd think boys my age would have been excited to hear about a supposedly slutty girl, and would take full advantage of the chance to be with me. But, no— in the small town in which I lived, everyone was religious, and chaste. No one wanted to be with a girl who was known to be "slutty" with a crazy father.
So, the remainder of my high school years passed without any more chances for me to be kissed. My dad was quite pleased with the situation but I, needless to say, was not. I'm nineteen years old and a college student and I still don't have a computer in my room.
After a year of punishment, I was given the password to the family computer in the living room. But that's the only place I'm allowed to get on the Internet and I'm strictly observed by my father.
It has been hell, and I can't wait to graduate from college, start my business— a line of pet toys made of recycled products such as tires and plastic bottles— and get out of here. In the meantime, I found out about the Kindle Fire.
Oh, what a glorious discovery that was. My father had no opposition to me having a device that let me read books. He just didn't know what kind of books I liked to read on it.
Late at night, under my covers, I read dirty, filthy smut while I fantasize about doing such acts of depravity in real life. My hands wander between my legs, and my fingers snake their way into my wet pussy, as I imagine what it would be like to have sex.
The very first romance book I ever read was by Cassandra Dee. I couldn't believe such things could be easily downloaded onto my Fire. Two guys at once. Three guys at once. Older guys. Experienced guys. Rich guys. All my favorite fantasies were all in one place.
As time went by, I read more and more smut. Piper Phoenix. C.A. Quigg. Jess Bentley. My Fire was a dream come true, and it remains the same to this day.
I can't find a guy of my own until I move out of this house, and away from this town. But I have plenty of make believe guys to dream about in the meantime. And lots of "me time" in my bed at night, where the men of my dreams come alive and make me come, over and over and over.
Chapter 3 – Adam
Click, clack, click, clack, click.
&nbs
p; Jane Peterson's high heels make so much noise as she walks into the conference room where I had just given the last lecture of the business class I was teaching over the summer. It's as if Jane has to announce her presence and rub in my face the fact that she is here to chastise me.
She is the head of the Board of Regents and she had already told me she was coming to talk to me, via a snappy email she'd sent earlier today, but now she had to emphasize that fact by click-clacking her way in. I wish I could fuck some sense into her. I bet after she had my cock up her ass, she'd take out the stick that was up there.
"Mr. Masters," she says, gesturing towards a pull-down seat in the front row of the auditorium- style classroom. "Have a seat."
"I'd rather remain standing," I inform her, and I do.
There's no way I'm going to sit like a student in my own classroom, in one of those ridiculous chairs. Nor am I going to sit and have some long discussion about my "behavior." Whatever Jane came to say, she can open that prissy-looking mouth of hers and say it.
This knocks her off her high-heeled high horse. She was about to sit down herself, in the chair a few chairs down from the one to which she'd gestured, but she springs back up, clearing her throat.
She poses awkwardly in a half sitting, half standing position, looking as if she's unsure whether she wants to command to sit down, or let it go. She must decide on the latter option, because finally she straightens all the way up. Even in her very high heels, she's still shorter than I am, but most people are, since I'm 6'2".
I look down at her, waiting. She seems knocked off of her game.
"Mr. Masters, you know I respect your vast business experience and knowledge," she begins.
"Vast" is certainly one way to put it. I'm the head of the most profitable corporation in the world. It's a computer company I started out of my basement when I was in high school, and now we make the computer chips for the cars that drive themselves. This venture has been quite profitable, making me the richest man in the world as well.
"But…" I tell Jane, hastening her to get to the bad part of this conversation.
"But the Powers That Be tell me that after the debacle with Carla Henderson, you're nearly out of chances."
"Nearly?" I ask, my interest piqued.
I knew I would get in trouble if word about the Carla incident got out, but the way that Jane only says Carla's name makes me realize that she might not know the full extent of it. The way that she says I'm "nearly" out of chances further confirms my hunch. If she knew what all had really happened, Jane wouldn't confine the incident to Carla alone. And I wouldn't have any chances left.
Carla was a student of my business class who had invited me to a party at an apartment she rented off campus. Everyone was doing ecstasy and I was invited to a "cuddle circle" on a big furry rug in the middle of the living room. Of course I had to accept the invitation— it would be rude to turn down the invitation of Carla and her three female friends.
I was the only guy in this "cuddle circle," which soon turned into a full on menage. The girls wanted hugs. Then they wanted backrubs. Then they wanted me to take off their clothes so they could fully appreciate my full body massages.
I have to admit, it was an amazing night. Whatever punishment Jane Peterson is about to dole out, it was worth it. I'm an experienced man. Women have the tendency to throw themselves at me. But it's not every day that even a guy like me is surrounded by four beautiful naked women who are rubbing their tits in my face and their naked pussies all over my legs as they compete to give me lap dances.
I had to give the ladies what they wanted. What they were begging me for as they lined up in front of me in doggy style positions and stretched open their wet, dripping pussies for me so that I could decide which one I wanted to fuck first. They'd each taken their turns screaming my name as I shoved my big cock into their pussies, and if they were lucky I might play with one of their nipples while I was fucking another's pussy or mouth.
It was glorious. It was magical. And word had clearly gotten out about it.
"We heard you were with another student and we had already told you not to be," Jane says now, snapping her fingers to get my attention. I guess she had been talking while I was remembering the "cuddle session."
Student.
So, one of them had squealed to the administration, after enjoying the night of pleasure. But only one of them. I suppose the odds were in favor of that, and at least only one out of four had had morning after regrets strong enough to go tattle on me.
"Harvard is very happy that a man of your qualifications is teaching a business class here," Jane says, hurrying to kiss my ass like everyone always does. "But for PR reasons, we are going to have to take a break from this teaching arrangement."
"A break?" I ask, seriously confused.
Sure, I'd had a bit too much fun with Carla and her friends. But who hadn't taken some ecstasy and had a fivesome at some point in their life? It was nothing worth suspending me over.
"This is a suspension, isn't it?" I demand.
"I wouldn't say that word," Carla answers.
"I know you wouldn't because you didn't," I tell her, getting exacerbated now. "You used the word 'break.' What exactly does a 'break' entail? How is it different than a suspension?"
For once my libido had gotten the best of me and had gotten me into trouble instead of only pleasure. I guess it’s time to face the consequences.
Chapter 4 – Adam
"A ‘break’ means you teach at another school for a semester and we see how things go," Carla explains, in answer to my question. "We've already arranged for it, so you don't have to go looking for one. You're assured of the position. And Harvard will continue paying your normal teaching salary, so you don't have to worry about that changing."
I click my tongue at her, hoping it sounds just as annoying as her shoes did as they clicked down the hall. Because she's fucking annoying me all right.
"And where is this school?" I ask. "Where are you banishing me for a semester?"
"It's Hudson College," she says, hesitantly, as if anticipating my reaction.
She obviously expects me to be angry or disappointed, but I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of blowing up at her.
"I've never heard of the place," I tell her. "I suppose that means it's a real step down."
"It's a small town in upstate New York," Carla explains. "It has a great liberal arts department but they're working on strengthening their business department and that's why they were interested in having you."
The tone in her voice and her carefully chosen words let me know that this was the only school that was. No one wants a philander in their midst, teaching students they view as having innocent and impressionable minds.
They don't know how these students spread their legs and show me their shaved pussies, begging me to fuck them, and not just because they want good grades. But, in their own minds, because they've heard I have a big cock and I know how to use it.
"This is a… religious school," Jane adds, biting her lower lip as if she hadn't wanted to tell me that detail. "It's Baptist."
"Baptist," I say, scratching my head to see if I can recall knowing anything about that religion.
"Yes," she says. "So, they are in favor of abstinence until marriage. You may be surprised at some of the rules and the strict enforcement of them. There is a 9 pm curfew. There are separate dorms and even separate dining halls and sidewalks for the male and female students."
"Separate sidewalks?" I ask, aghast.
"Yes," Jane confirms.
"They can't even be trusted to walk beside each other?" I ask her.
She looks down at her hands which are folded in front of her, and I can tell she's trying hard not to smile. Hmmm. So, there is a fun side to Jane Peterson, Miss Prim and Proper School Board Member. Maybe sometimes she lets her hair down. Maybe she'd even let me pull on it while I fuck her.
"The female students wear long skirts and long sleeved blouses
and they are forbidden to cut their hair or wear make up," she says, looking at me as if this news might be the worst of all.
She probably thinks I don't want to work anywhere where the women don't show too much skin. But she doesn't know I've dated girls from all kinds of different religions. All of them have let me into their pants— or long skirts.
But, her point is well taken. She probably thinks these girls are more chaste than other college girls and won't be as eager to jump into bed with me as girls at Harvard have been.
The message she's sending is clear. I have to be good. If I can behave myself at this super strict school where there is less temptation and less opportunity to be bad, than Harvard will take me back. If not, I won't be needed to teach in their business department any more.
It’s not like it would be the end of the world. I certainly don't need the money. But I've passed the nuts and bolts part of the business onto people who are workhorses whereas I'm more the brains of the operation. Teaching gives me something to do on a daily basis. I can get out into the world and meet people and screw beautiful young college girls who are only half my age.
Scratch that last part. I can't do that anymore. I have to fucking remember that.
"Well, these girls sound lovely," I tell her, since that word is vague enough to be taken any way she wants to take it.
I've found that women are lovely no matter what they wear, no matter what they believe, and even no matter what they look like. There's a conventional idea of beauty but I find that there's always something beautiful about a woman whether it's immediately obvious at first or not.
Her eyes might sparkle more than most. She might have a mysterious birthmark or interesting pattern of freckles or cute dimple. Her hair might glisten and shine. I'm sure the women who attend this college in the middle of nowhere are just as lovely as the women who attend Harvard.
"I'm excited about this new teaching opportunity," I tell her, and I want her to worry a little bit. Maybe I'll like it more than I like teaching at Harvard. Maybe I'll stay there. "When do I start?"
Two Bad Groomsmen_An MFM Menage Romance Page 55
