“And you know that it should be down to your shins! Now don’t make me tell you about these boys and their secular ways again. They see a hint of flesh and they believe you’re like the Britney Spears and the NSYNC and all of them – “
“Papa, you’re about a century late on what’s going on in Pop Culture and the ‘NSYNC’ were BOYS, not girls.”
“Well you know what I mean. None of these tight clothes and short skirts, not on my daughter.”
I pouted all the way back upstairs and changed into my shin-length button-up baby-blue dress. This, he would approve of. As I walked back downstairs and picked up the raffle stuff, I walked out of the house, barely feeling like myself.
How did I get to 18 and still have to suffer through all these rules and ridiculous 18th century fashion choices? My father was a minister at an evangelical so there I was, dressed like a sister-wife and going around, disturbing families on a Saturday morning, asking them to buy raffle tickets.
I walked and wandered for a while, wondering about my future. I had applied to a couple church-run universities that my father said he could pull favors to get me into. But then I had also taken some of my own money that I had saved up and applied to a few secular universities too. I decided to walk toward the university close to my home that gave me the idea of signing up for a secular school far away from home.
My phone buzzed. I checked the messages only to see my mother urging me to get as many sales as I could today, we hadn’t sold many. I could just picture my father complaining about “the Britney Spears” making everybody hate God if I didn’t sell any raffle tickets. He could not imagine that no one wanted to buy tickets that would force them to come to our Mother’s Day service just to find out if they won or not.
I began knocking on doors only to get them slammed in my face, one after another. No surprise there. However, after a while, it became downright embarrassing. Some girls came to the front door of one of the houses I went to and they began laughing at my dress. I just smiled and told them to have a good day. But really I was wishing the one in the sports bra and shorts that showed her buttcheeks would get syphilis.
I said a small prayer as I continued walking, suddenly feeling a little guilty that I wished syphilis on someone. I walked some more, criss-crossing streets lazily as I pressed doorbells and failed to sell anything.
There was a large red brick house with some letters on it up ahead. I walked straight into the small yard, almost drawn to the place by an intuition that it was where I needed to be.
I pressed the doorbell and looked around the lawn. There were a few scattered beer cans and a Frisbee and a football. A frat house. I pressed the doorbell again and was about to turn around and call it a bad job when the door opened.
My jaw just about dropped to the floor. I felt so flushed when I realized I was gawping at the guy at the door but I could barely catch my breath much less compose myself.
He was more than six feet tall with perfectly spiked blond hair, swept off to one side. His eyes were piercing blue, and he had a little stubble around his bruised pink lips. His jawline was like a freaking marble carving. But I could hardly focus when my eyes hit his naked torso. He was so chiseled I felt like my eyes were getting cut by the sharpness of the “V” shape his stomach made down into his low-riding cargo pants where his striped boxers peeked over slightly.
“Hi,” he said, a smirk crossing his face as he looked me up and down. Suddenly I felt so silly in my dowdy old blue dress.
I ran my hands through my hair nervously as he bit his lip and continued to look at me slower this time. He met my eyes and sent a jolt through me, like I had been shocked by an invisible socket
“Uh… hi…” I said, after what felt like 10 years of us looking at one another. “I was trying to… uh… tell you about the raffle tickets my ch… my Dad’s church has for sale,” I finished quickly. I looked down at my shoes. Now that he knew I was a Jesus freak, as if my clothes didn’t give it away, he wouldn’t look at me any more and he would shut the door.
“Raffle tickets, huh?” he said, with what sounded like interest.
“Yeah,” I said, hesitantly looking up at him only to feel the weird electric thing, this time in my stomach. I looked back down, this time at my wrist where I held the roll of tickets. “We actually have a 2015 Used Honda Civic that was donated to us by a church sister. We’re raffling the car to raise funds for our Sunday School and Youth program. We’re opening a Praise and Worship Daycare.”
“Is that so?” said the guy. “I could actually use a new car. And I think it’s a good cause. I’m actually the son of a Deacon.”
“You are?” I said, shocked. The son of a Deacon walking around half naked in a house full of beer? How did he get to this point? Another voice in my head also whispered: ‘And how can I join?’
“Yes, I am. Used to practically live in the chapel. Anyway, I would love to put my money toward your church’s cause. You know what, you should come inside, I bet some of the other guys would love to hear about this and buy a ticket too.”
“Wow, do you mean it?” I said, astonished.
“Yeah,” he said laughing softly. “Definitely.” There was something strange about his laugh – kind of mean-spirited, but I ignored it.
The house could have been beautiful if a girl was helping to take care of it. As it stood, there was a keg scraping up the wood floors in the hallway, a red cup sitting at the end of the stair bannister, a framed jersey on the in the living room and foosball table where a coffee table should have been.
“Well, gee, doesn’t this place just scream ‘testosterone.’”
“That’s kind of what we’re going for,” said the guy with a smile.
Suddenly two more guys came into the room, topless as well, however, they were glistening with water and they were just as sculpted as the first guy. I guessed they had a pool somewhere back there.
“Wow…” I whispered, unable to help myself. I saw a strange glimmer in the first guy’s eyes and struggled to stop staring at all of these half-naked bodies around, failing miserably. I had never been around a topless man before – except for my father – but his potbelly had nothing on these guys’ washboard physiques.
“Oh hey, who’s this?” asked one of the new guys.
“Oh!” said the blond guy who let me in. “Actually we didn’t get around to names –“
“I’m Brock,” said the first guy.
“Oh, hi,” I said, shakily, “I’m Ronda.” I shook his hand.
“This is Alex,” he said pointing to the guy with brown hair, “and this is Tailor,” he said pointing to the next guy. “Ronda here is selling raffle tickets.” As he said this he moved behind me and put his hands on my shoulder. I felt very nervous.
“Uh… yeah…” I said, hesitating. “There is a Honda Civic available… in the raffle.”
I felt Brock begin to sort of squeeze my shoulder, gently at first, as if in support, then it seemed like the second time was the beginning of a massage.
“Um…” I looked up over my shoulder at Brock and saw that he was look down at me like I was a slice of pie on a cartoon windowsill. Suddenly I felt something brush against my lower back but Brock’s hands were still firmly on my shoulders. I reached behind me and felt something like really a firm sausage wrapped in fabric… I was puzzled and then I turned around only to see that I was holding on to Brock’s… his… nether regions!!
I was so embarrassed I stumbled back and bounced into the two wet frat brothers and, reaching out to stabilize myself as I fell, I pulled down their shorts accidentally. Suddenly I found myself surrounded by not just one, but three visible erect and semi-erect penises for the first time in my life.
I had watched porn before – a lot of it. I would sneak on my phone, after setting my alarm to wake me up at 4am. I would masturbate until 6am when I had to start getting ready for school. Any time at night mean I risked getting caught by my parents looking in on me for whatever reason – they thou
ght privacy was for sinners and people up to no good. But they never woke me up in the morning because they knew I always got up before them anyway. I used to get up early so I could watch secular TV shows. Now it was always to rub myself dizzy until the sun rose. Then I would pray for 15 minutes and ask for forgiveness. Because the things I watched… it wasn’t just a man laying with his wife, which would have been bad enough. No. What I watched… well… it looked a lot like the scene in that frat house where I sat on the ground surrounded by half-naked men.
I was suddenly… terrified… but completely turned on. I felt myself reach down to my dress, pulling it up on my thighs as I sat on the ground, still recovering from my fall.
I felt myself getting all wet and tingly down there like I would whenever I watched those videos. I couldn’t help myself. I reached my hand between my thighs, feeling like I was possessed by something vicious and evil and carnal. I stopped myself by squeezing my thighs together. Suddenly I rose to my feet.
“This is… this… Satan is trying to tempt me… I can’t stay here. I’ll show myself out.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” said Brock suddenly, blocking the path as I tried to leave. “Come on. Where you think you’re headed?”
“I have to go…” I whispered, disconcerted as he moved closer to me and was suddenly inches from me, his chest still bare.
He looked at me, as though calculating. I tried to remain aloof, to maintain my resolve to leave. But my heart was beating through my whole body, starting right between my legs, from the fattening flesh that I played with every morning before repenting. As I met Brock’s eyes, I felt my panties pool with wetness at the thought of feeling his lips. And he saw it. He saw that I wanted him.
I felt Brock’s arm around me, his lips descending on mine so fast that I could not think. The bruised pink flesh of his lips was soft and warm, and we kissed effortlessly. I felt my body buzz to life completely. And suddenly his hand was between my legs and it was as if I had been jolted awake. I pulled away from the kiss. But his hand was already worming between the buttons on my dress to find the wetness of my panties and flick at my bean with gently “come hither” motions. I could not move, I was frozen to the spot, my eyes wide with fear. I began to shake my head no.
He turned me around so I had my back to him. I felt him against me. Still hard in his boxers. His hand was on my stomach, holding me to him and pointing down as though showing the way. I suddenly became incredibly aware of the two guys in front of me, Alex and Tailor, staring at me with hunger in their eyes too…
Then I began to realize. They thought I was hot. They wanted me. I had never known that that look could belong to someone like me. Never thought that anyone would ever see me that way. I suddenly put my hand over Brock’s and looked back at him, unsure. He kissed me again and I felt myself melt against him. He reached his hand back down and popped the button that hid my panties, easily. He pulled down my panties while grabbing my breast. I felt tormented – tormented by the pleasure and consumed by the guilt as my panties fell to the floor and his hand rubbed down along my clit.
I could not help the gasp that escaped me as he began rubbing my wet clit slowly, back and forth, his lips breathing heavily against my hair as my head leaned back in ecstasy at the feel of him. And then suddenly I felt his fingers enter me, just one meaty finger was enough to fill my tightness and even though I was completely slick, he could only manage to slip one finger in and out of me.
“Oh my god!” I felt myself exclaim and suddenly, in that moment, as I called out to the lord, with my face help up and exalting, I felt the true depth of my sin come over me.
“No… no…” I moaned. “No… this is wrong. This is a sin…” I began to plead, even as I rubbed myself hopelessly against his fingers as they returned to rubbing against my clit.
“Then give into the sin,” he whispered in my ears, like an incubus, sent to seduce me on a path to Hell.
“No…” I pleaded quietly. “Not like this…” I held his hand against me, guiding him deeper and deeper into me as he began to reach inside of me again. “Not like this,” I moaned as he pulled his hand out of me and stuffed it into my mouth and I licked and sucked the taste of myself off of his fingers that now penetrated my mouth, in and out.
“That’s it…” he whispered in my ear. “Get used to sucking like that, head back and forth, just like that. I can tell what you like. I’m gonna help you get it.”
And as we looked at each other I could tell that he knew me. Knew of my need for release. He was a preacher’s kid too. He knew about the pressure. And as he took both hands on either side of my dress’s collar from behind and pulled the dress apart, popping buttons and sending them flying, making me naked but for my bra, I fell the pressure burst.
I looked ahead to see Alex and Tailor staring at me, dumbfounded.
Once more I felt that strange feeling of being proud that I could make someone want me.
Brock pulled me down to a couch and pulled out his penis. I leaned down and began to suck it immediately, eager to feel what it was like.
Soon, I felt Alex move between my legs, and suddenly his tongue was on my clit! Just like in the videos! Only the way he licked, I had never understood how it would feel in real life. It was glorious. Is this what I made Brock feel? Could I make everybody feel like that? Tailor approached me too, his cock hard and sort of bouncing with his steps. I lifted my mouth from Brock so that I could taste this new cock. It was just as hard as Brock and even though it curved more I felt my mouth getting to know it.
Alex’s tongue and now his fingers, penetrating me, pushed me toward an orgasm, far more powerful than any I had ever been able to give myself before.
I suddenly felt Brock pull me toward him and he lay me on my side so I could feed on Alex’s cock now, a little shorter than the previous two but far thicker. My lips stretched around his cock while Brock pushed his fingers inside of me, two at first, then, as I got closer to orgasm and wetter, he squeezed in a third finger.
“I think you’re ready,” said Brock as I moaned around Alex’s cock and felt his fingers drum into me. “Come sit on my lap,” he said.
I stood and allowed Brock to angle me so that as I sat, I gingerly took the head of his penis in me. I winced. It stretched me more than I thought I could take.
“Easy,” said Brock, his hand on my back. I screwed my face up as I felt myself stretch around his penis, wide and tight like an over-stretched rubberband. It hurt as I was finally able to sit all the way down and I had to catch my breath as I felt him continue to stretch me out while I sat with all of him inside of me.
He pulled me to lean back on him and put his mouth to my ear.
“How much more can you take?” he asked quietly.
“More what?” I asked.
“How many more cocks do you want to suck.”
The idea sent another thrill through me. Alex and Tailor were still hard as they watched me stretch around Brock’s girth. And as Brock reached his hands into my bra to cup my breasts and then remove my bra and let my breasts out, I saw them both reach for their cocks, looking at my tits and exposed pussy. They wanted me. The idea of more men wanting me made me even wetter, as if that were possible, and suddenly I felt like I couldn’t have enough.
“I want them all,” I finally whispered in response to Brock. He nodded and then whistled through his fingers, loudly. The stomp of feet came from all around the house. Not long after, I was faced with the faces of 12 very horny men.
Brock fucked me slowed as I sat on his lap and sucked one cock after another. I lost track of time and completely let go of myself after one and then another one placed themselves in my mouth and held my head against their erections and pumped me full of cum when they finished, each one of them finishing in record time.
All throughout, however, Brock remained hard, inside of me, holding my breasts and playing with my clit alternately, me sitting on top of his cock and facing away from him. Finally, when the last of the brothe
r’s had cum Brock curled his arms under my knees to spread my thighs and legs wide. It hurt a little since I was still sore from putting something so big inside of me. But as he began to pump himself into me and his frat brothers watched my, I felt myself getting lost once more and I came with a burst of pleasure while Brock let out a loud moan of release, finally.
I fell off of him, slack-jawed and completely lost for words.
“Ok, gentlemen,” said Brock calmly. “The young lady came here to raise money for a raffle to build a Praise and Worship Daycare at her Dad’s church. Let’s give generously.”
As I head footsteps around me and slowly saw money falling on the couch near me, some bills slipping to the floor where some cum still glistened, I began to pray fervently. I supposed this could become my weekend routine, so that I could finally start sleeping in during the week.
Story Three
Chapter One
I hated him. He had wasted 3 years of my life – 3 years of my prime! Only to decide he no longer loved me and needed time to figure out what he needed. I told him he could take all the time in the world. Told him I was over the whole relationship. He had never been fully in, I realize. He had only committed to 3 years because for the majority of the time he was struggling in his career and I was the only one who believed in him. A broke architecture intern wasn’t exactly the best boyfriend material. But now that he was built up and a world renowned architect, of course he was showing off. Of course he thought he could do better. And he finally confessed to me that he thought he had found someone who he thought “got him better.” The bastard.
After screaming myself hoarse at the coward who pretended everything was fine until he was absolutely sure he had locked down my replacement – to the point where they might start looking for a place together!!! -- I packed up my crap, not having a clue where I was going to go but knowing that if I shared space with him a second longer it would only be to murder him.
My mother agreed to take some boxes off my hands. She arrived with Brett, my step-father. He and my mother had been together for just over 6 years now and every time I saw them together it made me a little sad. My mother was actually kind of boring compared to Brett. And I said that with all the love in the world. They just had nothing in common. Brett loved art and music of all sorts, he was adventurous and conducted wonderful interviews with all sorts of fascinating people for a prestigious magazine. He seemed cool and virile and he had aged amazingly. My mother managed the drawer subdivision of a furniture manufacturer and liked to watch Hoarders in her free time. But she was extraordinarily beautiful and fit for her age so I suppose that was all it took for some men.
Gay Dads- All His Son's Friends Page 3
