Steamy Stories

The Tinker's Career: Part 5

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Tue, 13 Oct 2026 03:48:00 +0000

The Tinker’s Career: Part 5

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Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected.

Ester smiled then.

"Have you not seen the crack in the wall that separates our bedrooms?"

I had been found out not because of my handkerchief. A crack in the wall had exposed what I had done. There was no other course than to admit it.

"You have watched me through that crack?"

Ester nodded.

"Nearly every night, though last night was the first time I saw you in such a state. It was quite a wonder to me, for it was the first time I have seen a man do such a thing. Do you do it often?"

I hung my head then, for the difference in our ages and Ester's tone of voice reminded me of speaking with my mother.

"Yes, nearly every night; in the privy. Last night I was aroused to such a state I could not stop myself."

Ester crossed the space between us and stroked my back.

"It is not a thing to be ashamed of, Johnathan. Ginny said all men do it when they do not have a woman to receive their seed. Would it not be a greater relief were you to have a woman who would do so? I only ask because I have never been such a woman so I do not know. If you have been with a woman, please tell me the truth of my supposition."

It seemed to me that our conversation had led me into yet another situation from which I could not escape. I did not know in what direction our conversation would next go, but I thought I must answer Ester with the truth.

"Yes, I have been with a woman, and yes, it is very much more of a pleasure."

Ester stroked my back again.

"Tell me, Johnathan, did you cause this woman to also have pleasure?"

I allowed that I believed I had. Ester's next words were spoken in a lower, softer tone.

"How did you know she enjoyed the experience?"

I thought perhaps I could end Ester's questions with my answer.

"Judging by the sounds I heard coming from your bedroom last night, I would think you are well aware of how a woman acts when she is enjoying the pleasure of passion."

Ester did not even pause before she spoke again in the same soft voice.

"I intended for you to hear me, for there was a reason. I have been with one man, years and years ago, and it was not a pleasure at all. Ginny told me that was because the first time there is always pain, but I was fearful of attracting a man that the same might be the case. Since I have never repeated the act, I know how I feel when I relieve my urges, but not how it feels when a man does the same for me.

"Now that I have grown older, I wonder if the man was merely unskilled in the ways of women. I would answer that question were I to find a man who is willing to show me. My hopes were that you would be that man, but until last night I did not know if you had the same urges or not. At this moment, I fear I may be too old for you to help me determine the answer."

Upon Ester relating her experience with one man, I thought of her as a women in some distress rather than as a woman speaking to me as had my mother. I did sympathize with her plight, for I too had been in the same condition before Estelle taught me. Had Estelle not taught me so well, I should have most likely continued making trips to the privy when the urge struck me.

Those sympathetic feelings caused me to rationalize. Would it not be a lacking in my character not to pass on my knowledge? After all, was that not what Estelle had done; passed on knowledge to me that I might understand the ways coupling could be so enjoyable for both?

I smiled at Ester as I gently stroked her breast through her bodice.

"I could be the man you seek, and you are not so old as to cause me to turn away from you. In fact, the woman who taught me was about your age. If you truly wish this to be, I would enjoy it, I am sure."

Ester did not reply. She simply took my hand and led me to her bedroom.

When Ester closed her bedroom door, I asked if she would light a candle. Her reply caused me even greater thoughts of sympathy and a resolve to give her that which she sought.

"I am afraid you will not like how I appear without clothing. Ginny said men are attracted to large breasts and narrow hips, and I have neither."

I attempted to put her mind at ease that she might be more receptive to what I was going to do.

"Ester, if men were attracted only to large breasts and narrow hips, half the women in England would be without a man. I, for one, simply enjoy the touch of a woman's body, no matter how her curves are formed. If you would rather I not see you though, I would explain that it is not only the eyes that may see. The hands and lips can see in the darkness every bit as well as the eyes can see in the light."

When I heard the rustle of Ester removing her dress, I quickly removed my shirt, boots and trousers and then waited. When I heard Ester's quiet voice say, "I am ready", I reached out my hands toward what I thought would be her shoulders.

Instead, my hands found her breasts, and upon feeling my touch, Ester became very tense. I quickly moved my hands up, stroked her shoulders, and then gently pulled her against me.

As I did so, I became aware that Ester's breasts were not so small, and her hips were not so narrow. Her breasts were large enough I felt them flatten against my bare chest, and when I cupped her hips, I decided while her hips were not so wide as Emily's, neither were they the hips of a young girl.

I stroked her back and the curve of her hips until I felt Ester begin to relax a bit, then slipped one hand up her side and cupped her left breast. When I did so, she tensed again and I heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Ester, do not be alarmed at my touch. It is only what a man does to arouse the passions in a woman. Allow yourself to just feel the sensations and you will see that I am far from causing you any pain."

Ester did not really relax until my thumb found her teat and stroked it gently. Immediately upon my doing so, the small bud began to swell, Ester inhaled a short, quick breath and then murmured, "I feel that in my belly. Should it be so?"

I chuckled.

"If you did not, it would mean that I am not doing it correctly. We should lie down now that I may continue to give you those feelings."

Lying beside Ester was much different than lying beside Estelle, Elizabeth, or Grace. I supposed that was because she knew not the ways of men and woman. It mattered not to me. I was once again sampling the treasures of a woman, a feeling I had thought to be lost until such time as I was able to take a wife.

Such a treasure she was too. With every caress of her breasts and teats, Ester quietly moaned and after a while, I felt her open her legs a bit. Knowing that meant her passions were sufficiently aroused to tolerate a touch between her thighs, I stroked down her belly until my fingertips touched a thicket of hairs, then gently cupped the lips secreted under those hairs.

Ester gasped at that touch, but did not pull my hand away. She only opened her thighs a bit more, and when she did, I slipped on finger between her nether lips. Ester again made a little gasp, but exhaled slowly when I stroked her rippled inner lips.

The other women I had made love with seemed to find the sensation of my fingertip on their inner lips to be arousing. Ester seemed to find those same sensations overpowering, I would suppose because she had not before had the experience. She began to moan little moans and to move her hips about as I stroked. When I closed my lips around her right teat and sucked gently while stroking her petals, Ester jerked her hips. I was not quick enough to move my hand before that finger slipped inside her portal. That penetration caused her to jerk her hips again and then moan loudly.

"Oh my, I feel as if I am on fire now. Is it always so?"

I smiled as I began moving that finger in and out.

"Generally it is, though your fires are as yet just a small flame. You shall see how hot those fires will become."

With that said, I used my thumb to stroke at the top of her slit and felt the stiff little button still hiding under her folds. Ester gasped at that touch and spread her thighs wide. I continued suckling her teats, stroking a finger in and out, and gently rubbing her little button until my finger was coated with her juices. When I judged those juices to be flowing freely, I knelt between Ester's spread thighs.

"I will be gentle as a lamb until you wish more, Ester."

I was truly as gentle as I promised her, only touching her open lips with the tip of my cock at first. Ester gasped at that first touch, but did not close her thighs. She just whispered, "Though you may cause me pain, I must know. Do as you will with me."

As soon as the tip of my cock was wetted, I pressed forward, but ever so slowly. By fractions of an inch, my cock entered Ester until I felt resistance. I promptly withdrew, and then pressed forward again.

Ester was a snug fit. I surmised this was caused by the lack of penetration for many years. As a result, I did not push my cock home until the sixth or seventh stroke; it is difficult to remember exactly - and upon my belly meeting Ester's mound, I remained in place for a few moments to allow her passage to be accustomed to the stretching.

Though Ester was not nearly at her peak, she was beginning to breathe in quick, short breaths. When I withdrew my cock and then began stroking it in and out of her snug passage, those breaths became quicker and more shallow. I began to feel an alternating tightening and loosening when my cock eased into her depths. It was much the same sensation as I had felt with my other lovers, though I knew they were creating that sensation for both our benefits. Ester seemed to not know she was doing it.

As I continued to stroke my cock, I bent my head enough to capture Ester's left teat between my lips. A gentle suckle cause the response I expected, though I did not expect it to be so strong. Ester thrust her body up just as my cock reached the extent of her passage, and I felt her wrap her arms around my back. Upon starting my next stroke, I pinched her teat gently between my teeth. Ester gasped out, thrust her body up again, and I felt her fingers digging into my back.

A few moments later and much sooner than I had anticipated, Ester cried out and began such a shaking I was forced to hold her right hip with my hand lest my cock slip from her slippery nest. The shaking quickly increased my passions to the point I could no longer control them. As Ester heaved her body up into my stroke, the first surge of seed raced up my shaft, flew out the tip, and splattered inside Ester's writhing passage. A second, then a third, and then yet another erupted from my cock, and Ester still shook and made little cries of pleasure.

I continued to stroke my cock in and out of Ester until she mostly stopped shaking except for an occasional jerk of her body and a quiet little moan. When I did withdraw my cock, Ester sighed.

"What Ginny said is true. It was as if deep in my belly I became tighter and tighter until I exploded. I must feel this way again and again and again.";

Over the next year, I obliged Ester at any time she wished to feel my cock penetrate her. If the weather was rain, I would oblige her of a morning as well as of an evening. At her suggestion, her bed became our bed, though I continued to pay her for my room and my board. No self-respecting man would allow himself to be kept as a man might keep a mistress. No, I made love with Ester because I enjoyed both my own feelings and the way she responded.;

It was the spring of the next year that I called at a farmhouse on the west edge of Whitchurch. The woman of the house said she had a pot or two that required mending and went to fetch them. When she came out of her kitchen, she carried a large soup pot. Behind her came a young woman about my age carrying two smaller pots. This young woman had long hair as black as a raven's feathers, eyes that were as blue as the sky, and lips that were soft and sensuous. Her simple housedress showed me the breasts under it were larger than most, and it flared from her narrow waist to hips I imagined would be an absolute joy to have in my hands.

I had learned when still an apprentice that women enjoy flattery, and that sometimes that flattery resulted in an additional purchase. As I had been sharing a bed with Ester for some time, I had moved some of my tools into my old bedroom. On days of rain, I spent the time not attending to Ester's needs in my now workshop in the making of pastry cutters. I had a selection of pastry cutters in my cart.

When the two women approached, I smiled.

"Ma'am, I had expected to find a housewife, but not two sisters."

The woman blushed.

"Sir, you surely must be of poor sight. This is not my sister. This is my daughter, Rose."

I smiled again.

"Be that as it may, the two of you look very much the same. I would venture any man would have difficulty selecting between the two of you."

The woman was still blushing, and now, so too was the daughter. She smiled at me then.

"Sir, my mother already has her man, so there would be no selection required. I believe you to have another motive."

Well, she had me there. I said no more as I worked to repair the three pots. When I finished the last, I handed it to the young girl, then reached into my cart and retrieved a pastry cutter.

"I also have pastry cutters should you be in need. This one is but a simple egg shape that is priced at a half-pence, but I have others as well."

I reached into my cart again and picked up a special cutter shaped in the outline of a baby chick.

"Perhaps you do not have a cutter such as this but would be willing to part with a pence to have one. It would bring something new to your Easter dinner pastries."

The young girl, Rose, smiled.

"Young man, your motive for flattery was merely to sell my mother something she does not need. I admit you to be smart, though you would not fool me."

As I looked at Rose, I took an instant liking to her. Well, "liking" is not exactly the correct word. It was more than liking her though I did not know how to explain the feeling at that time.

I began putting my tools back into my cart, but left the pastry cutters until last. When I picked up the chick, Rose chuckled.

"You yield too easily I think. What ever would you do if you were wooing a young girl and she refused you?"

I said it would depend upon how well I liked the young girl, put my pastry cutters in my cart, and then closed the lid and began pushing my cart back to Whitchurch.

Along the way, I thought about how I had felt upon seeing Rose and how I had felt when she understood my attempt at selling my pastry cutters. At first, I thought she to be rather cheeky for a woman. Women were not supposed to disagree with men, or at least that is what I had been taught. When I thought some more though, I had to smile.

Rose was smart enough to see through my flattery and I found that I liked that. I also remembered the way she had spoken. Her voice was as soft and as smooth as a stream running over a rock streambed. I liked that about her too.

I shrugged to myself then.

Yes, I had liked the girl, but she was only one of many young girls I had liked. There would no doubt be others as well.

As I had made many pastry cutters, I decided to push my cart to the town square in Whitchurch on market day just as had Master Eaton taken his ware to the market in Honiton. It would cost me a day on the road, but perhaps I could sell enough pastry cutters to equal the income I would lose.

I was sitting by my cart the next market day when who should I see walking down the line of sellers than Rose and her mother. They stopped at my cart, and Rose smiled.

"My father has given me a pence. I would have a pastry cutter in the shape of a chick if you have one available."

For reasons I did not understand at the time, my heart began to beat so hard I feared Rose would hear it. I quickly retrieved one of my chick pastry cutters from my cart and handed it to her. Her hand briefly touched mine as she took the pastry cutter, and then again when she put the pence in my hand. I feared my heart would fairly leap from my chest at those touches, so strongly and so quickly did it beat.

Rose and her mother then walked away, but my heart did not resume its normal rhythm for some time. When I arrived back at Ester's home, I asked her if she had had a similar experience and if she thought I should seek the attentions of a physician.

Ester smiled, but then frowned.

"Johnathan, you have no malady that any physician can cure. Unfortunately, your malady will affect me as well, for unless Ginny was wrong in her tale, that malady is what she called love. I shall miss your attentions terribly, but I understood that one day this would happen."

I asked Ester how this would change our situation, and she smiled again.

"There is but one cure for what ails you, and that cure is to be with the woman who afflicted you. That means you must abandon me for her. Do not frown so. Though I have never been so afflicted, I understand."

I was feeling as if I were speaking with my mother again.

"What should I do if I must abandon you? Where am I to go? I can not just forget you either."

Ester put her arms around me.

"You should woo this woman and marry her. Once you have married, you will find a place to live, for you are brighter than most men. I do not wish you to forget about me, but it is time for you to be with a woman who can make you a proper home and give you children. I will miss you, but I am happy for you as well.";

Well, I did not know the first thing about wooing a woman. For two weeks, I went to the market in hopes of seeing Rose again, and each week, she was there with her mother. They bought no more pastry cutters though. They would only walk by my cart and smile. The third week, when they walked past my cart, I gathered my courage and asked the only question I could think of as possibly appropriate.

When Rose stopped at my cart, I tipped my cap.

"Rose, I was wondering; would you enjoy a walk by the river this Sunday? If you would rather not, I understand, but I thought; well; I have taken a liking to you and; well; the river is so peaceful this time of year and --"

Rose stopped my blathering with her laugh.

"Sir, if you continue to ramble on, I fear you will soon step on your own tongue. If my mother agrees, I would very much enjoy a walk by the river this Sunday."

I held my breath while Rose whispered something to her mother, then

The Tinker's Career: Part 4

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Mon, 12 Oct 2026 03:45:00 +0000

The Tinker’s Career: Part 4

Meeting the needs of the patrons.

Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected.

Grace chuckled.

"He is skilled at mending holes in buckets, but he is not very skilled in other things. He does not understand how the two of us may live here together without a man."

Elizabeth smiled.

"Such would believe any man. They are so proud of their own abilities they could not listen to an alternative."

I felt the need to interrupt. I was more than willing to listen.

"Elizabeth, if I may call you by that name, I assure you that though I am of few years, I am not of a closed mind. I simply said to Grace that there were tasks I believed a woman not capable of doing. Just before you arrived, she was telling me there was a task a woman could not do."

Grace chuckled.

"Johnathan, I did not say a woman could not do that task. I only asked if you believed so. You did not answer my question. That leads me to believe you were schooled in the ways of taking care of buckets and pots, but not schooled in the ways of taking care of women."

That statement made me feel as if Grace thought me to be uneducated in anything other than tinker work, and the rashness of youth took away my propriety.

"I have a very good understanding of how to take care of women. I was taught such by a woman."

Elizabeth's eyes opened wide.

"Oh. And just what did this woman teach you, cooking and sewing, or perhaps, how to do what a woman needs at times, the times she need to have her passions aroused and then relieved?"

I realized then that I had talked myself into a position from which there was no escape. I could not lie without implying my ignorance and speaking the truth could very well give both women an offence. Still, my father had always stressed that truth is always a better course to steer than a lie.

"Yes, she taught me the ways to increase her passions until they were relieved, and it is without boasting that I say I was an apt student. Many times she related to me the same. It is how a woman might have her passions aroused and then relieved without a man that I do not understand. No woman has the, shall we say, the proper tools for the task.

"My teacher in these matters said all women have this need, yet Grace told me that you do not wish to have a man. I am at a loss to understand that as well."

Grace smiled then.

"Young Johnathan, you misunderstood my statement. We do not wish for a man to live with us. The reason for this is both Elizabeth and I were sold by our husbands at the market just as were cattle. Do not look so shocked. Such is a common happening because there is no other way for a man and wife to separate. It is not entirely according to the law, but the law is overlooked in cases such as this.

"We had met previously, and had decided we did not wish to live with our husbands. My husband had a mistress in the town, and Elizabeth's husband was not at all kind to her. Our fathers paid two of their male friends to purchase us and then allow us to go where we would. That place to which we went was this small farm owned by my family and why we do not wish to be married once again.

"While we did somewhat miss the attentions of a man at times, we soon discovered that it is not a requirement to have a cock to arouse and then relieve our passions. Women are perfectly capable of accomplishing that, both by themselves and with each other. That is not to say we would refuse the attentions of a man who did not stay though, were he to be a kind man of sufficient skill. Might you be one of those men?"

Well, as the old saying goes, I could have been laid low by the single stroke of a goose quill. My situation had been changed from one somewhat irksome in nature to one in which two women were essentially requesting to sample my skills in the art of lovemaking. I was at a loss to answer that request, for though I understood how to satisfy one woman, I had never before been with two.

Elizabeth sensed my confusion, and also chuckled.

"Grace, I do believe you have dumbfounded this man. Perhaps we should take him inside lest he begin stumbling around aimlessly. Once inside, perhaps we should add to his knowledge of women, their needs, and how they may satisfy those needs."

I was not as Elizabeth had said, not at the very second, but upon entering their house, I certainly became so. Elizabeth led me into the bedroom I assumed was shared by them both as the only other rooms were a large kitchen and a parlor of sorts. Elizabeth held my hand while Grace unbuttoned the bodice of the simple housedress she wore. Upon pulling the two halves apart, I could see her large, heavy breasts and those heavy breasts caused my cock to begin rising. After Elizabeth assisted Grace in removing the dress, I discovered she wore nothing, not even a chemise, underneath. The sight of the thick mass of hair on her mound, the color of which matched the blonde hair on her head, caused my cock to further stiffen.

My arousal was seen by Elizabeth who stroked the bulge in my trousers and then laughed.

"Grace, I do believe you have this man's attention. Shall we see his reaction to two women without clothing?"

Moments later, Elizabeth was also naked. The hairs on her mound were a bit longer than Grace's, but matched the dark brown hair on her head. Her breasts, as I had thought, were smaller than Grace's, but not as small as I had imagined. They were merely somewhat flatter than had been Estelle's and therefore did not push out the front of her dress.

My cock was fearfully extended by that time and being confined in my trousers had commenced to be painful. Grace took it upon herself to remedy that situation. She unlaced the front of my trousers and then pulled them down. My stiff cock bobbed free and she smiled.

"Elizabeth, I believe we have found us a proper tool to stir our passions. Shall we see if his skills are as he boasts?"

As Elizabeth removed my boots and my trousers while Grace pulled my shirt over my head, I was still unsure of what course to follow. Were I to apply my knowledge to one, would the other not feel left out of the pleasure?

That uncertainty was rendered moot when the two women pulled me down on the bed between them. Grace nestled her breasts into my side, while Elizabeth guided my hand to the long teat on her right breast. I began stroking that breast and teat as Estelle had enjoyed, and was then surprised to feel Grace's hand sliding down my side to my cock. She gently stroked my length for a moment or two and then pulled Elizabeth's hand to do the same. Her own hand then began stroking between Elizabeth's slender thighs.

Elizabeth opened her thighs with a sigh and I watched as Grace slowly pushed her finger into the mass of dark brown hair.

What followed is confusing to me even to this day. It seemed that the two women's hands were stroking my cock one moment and then caressing each other the next. As I was lying on my back between them, I could see the delicate touches each made to the other. I also felt the warmth of their lips and tongues as they took turns kissing me and each other.

Elizabeth stroked the blonde curls between Grace's thighs, but then guided my hand to the same spot. Shortly after that, I found both my hands cupping the soft lips of each woman and then the slippery wetness inside their portals. They were not to leave that as their only arousal though. Each was gently caressing the breasts and teats of the other while my finger stroked the rippled inner lips and little button of each.

Their hands, sometimes both at once, on my cock was causing me to thrust into their gentle grasp. After a few of these strokes, and I confess, a few moans from me, Elizabeth threw her thigh over me and then rose on her knees. I felt Grace grasp my rigid cock and then the wet warmth as my cock entered Elizabeth's portal.

The fit was snug, snug enough I again groaned. Elizabeth chuckled and continued to ease her body down over my cock. When she was sitting on my thighs, I saw Grace pinch Elizabeth's left nipple and then give it a little tug. Elizabeth's body jerked and she moaned, then began raising and lowering herself over my cock. With every lowering, she would rock her hips and I would feel the little button raking down the topside of my cock. The change in angle also forced my cock into intimate contact with the ripples of Elizabeth's passage.

I was coming rapidly to the point of no return, when Elizabeth gasped, pushed herself down quickly over my cock and then dropped down to catch her weight on her hands. I felt a flow of wetness and then the tightening of her portal around my shaft. Elizabeth cried out and then began rocking her body rapidly over my cock. I could hold back no longer and thrust my cock up quickly. As Elizabeth continued to rock her body and make little mewing sounds, I filled her gripping passage with my seed.

After several moments, Elizabeth rolled to her side. She was still breathing rapid, shallow breaths, but she managed to say, "Grace, this tool is indeed an excellent tool. Let us cause it to stand up again that you may sample this man's skills."

I was not hopeful my cock would stand up very quickly again. After satisfying Emily's desires three times and now satisfying Elizabeth, I felt it would take an hour or more. I had not estimated the shortening of time caused by what Elizabeth and Grace did next.

Grace climbed over me to lie beside Elizabeth, and promptly took Elizabeth's right nipple between her lips and began to suckle. Elizabeth's belly tightened and she gasped, but then began using her finger to penetrate Grace's sex. Soon, Grace was moaning and rocking her hips into Elizabeth's finger. That was when the two women kissed, and that kiss was so absolutely erotic, my cock began to swell again.

It continued to swell as I watched Elizabeth lift her head and clasp Grace's left teat between her lips. Grace shuddered a little, then shuddered a lot because when Elizabeth opened her lips, I saw she had Grace's teat pinched between her teeth. Elizabeth pulled her face back slightly, Grace shuddered again, and then whispered, "Johnathan, I am ready for your cock now."

I had assumed Grace would either mount me as had Elizabeth or lid down on her back, but she did neither. She rose onto her hands and then spread her legs wide. Elizabeth urged me to a position behind Grace, and then guided my cock to Grace's portal. As I sank into her satin smooth and rippled passage, Elizabeth lay down and scooted her head under Grace's breasts.

As I pumped away inside Grace, I could hear the wet noises that could only mean Elizabeth was suckling Grace's teats. A moment later, Grace shuddered as she had before and pushed her body back into my stroke quickly enough my sack bumped against her mound. I could only assume that Elizabeth was once again nipping at Grace's teats.

While the stimulation of Grace's snug portal and rippled passage were extremely arousing, that stimulation was muted a bit by my having spent my seed once already. As a result, I continued to pump my cock in and out of Grace and Grace continued to moan and thrust her body back into my strokes.

That changed some time later when I felt a finger massaging the little button between Grace's thick, swollen lips and just under my stroking cock. Not long after I felt that finger, Grace arched her back, cried out, and began to sink down on the bed. I held her up with both hands as her thighs quivered, and at the same time as Grace began to rock her portal over my cock, I let the first spurt fly up my shaft and inside her. Grace's thighs were yet quivering as a leaf in a breeze when I shot my last.

After my cock slipped from the slippery embrace of Grace's passage, she fell down on the bed, rolled onto her back, and sighed.

"Such a tool would be welcome were it not attached to a man, though I could welcome this man to our house for longer than one morning. Perhaps a week might satisfy my desire to feel a man inside me."

Elizabeth stroked Grace's mound and then kissed her on the lips. When Elizabeth pulled away, she smiled.

"I am certain he will leave us, but perhaps he would consent to pay us a visit in the future. Now that we have taught him about two women, he might welcome the opportunity to exercise his new skills.";

I did have to leave if I was to reach Whitchurch before the weekend. It was with some reluctance that I did so, but also with some relief. While making love with both Grace and Elizabeth had been an experience well worth remembering, I feared that I could not give equal attention to them both in the longer term. At some point, I would anger one by seeming to favor the other, and that would mean an end to their arrangement.

It was also a relief for my poor cock. In two days, I had asked much of it, and though it had performed admirably according to the women, I felt a rest was very much in order.

To that end, as I continued my journey towards Whitchurch, I was careful to stop only at the various inns along the roadway. These stops proved to be more to the advantage of my purse, as the inns made rough usage of their pots and pans. I was able to add twelve pence to my coin after stopping at three inns.

At last, six days after beginning my journey, I pushed my cart through the streets of Whitchurch and then on toward my old home.;

My arrival was greeted with some fanfare. My father shook my hand and told me he was proud of my accomplishment. My mother embraced me until I thought I should die from lack of breath, and she fairly soaked my shirt with her tears. My brother, Edward, wiped the muck from his hands on his trousers and then embraced me as well, though he shed no tears. That evening, my mother prepared a dinner that was an especial favorite of mine, a chicken pot pie filled with the meat of a hen, the yolks of the immature eggs of the same hen, and pease and carrots.

While I was happy to be home with my family again, I had no desire to continue living with them. I was now a grown man and had the skills to earn my own way in life instead of being an imposition upon my parents. There was also the issue of proximity to potential customers. I did not have sufficient funds to arrange for a shop of my own in the nearest town, that being Whitchurch. I would have to ply my trade as my title suggested. A journeyman was so named because he journeyed around a given area offering his skills. Living with my family would require pushing my cart an unnecessary distance each day.

Toward both ends, I walked to Whitchurch the next day with the goal of securing boarding for myself. Whitchurch would become my new home as well as the center of my travels through the countryside.

Finding a suitable accommodation was not difficult. Finding a suitable accommodation with a suitable price was somewhat more of a challenge. What I desired was one room with a bed and the availability of a meal, morning and evening.

My expectation, developed by an understanding of the amount of work done by Master Eaton and the relative size of the area around Whitchurch compared to Honiton, was that my income would be about six pence a day, or the sum of three shillings a week. I was prepared to pay half that for my room and board, the other half being saved for purchase of a proper shop.

I was able to find several rooms at the price of two shillings a week, but I declined to take up those proposals. It was late in the afternoon and I was preparing to return to my father's home when I chanced upon a small paper notice attached to the door of a small house at the very edge of Whitchurch. The paper proclaimed a room was available in that house for the price of a shilling and a half per week. Upon seeing this notice, I presented myself at the door.

The woman who answered my knock was not as I had expected. Most rooms available were in houses owned by older people. They had no source of income other than furnishing a room or two for those unable to afford the price of a house. It was that situation which I sought, for older people were generally quiet types and would not disturb me as would a couple with several children.

This woman was not so old as I had thought would be the case. Neither, however, was she young. I could discern that by the lines at her eyes and the corners of her mouth. What struck me as odd, concerning those fine lines, was the shape of her figure, or at least as much of her figure as I could imagine given her dress. The slope of her breasts peeked from under the neckline of her bodice and her waist was smaller by far than her hips.

At that hour of the day, most husbands would have been at home and waiting to dine on an even meal, but I could see the table in her kitchen was set for just one place. She was evidently unmarried, and the reason was most likely her face.

She was not what I would describe as an ugly woman. It was more that her eyes seemed to be very open and her nose very large. I believed her to be one of those women not pretty enough to attract the attentions of a suitor when young. Such women were not all that rare, and often passed through life alone. After a certain age, such women were nearing the end of their child bearing years and a man wanted sons to carry on after him. I was very curious to learn of her past, though, of course, I could not ask that question as I had just met her.

I introduced myself and inquired as to if the room was still available. The woman said it was and led me through her home to a small room at the back.

"This used to be my father's room", she said. "He went to his reward last month." As he and my mother had no son, the house became mine. I am lonely of a night, and decided to let out his room that I might have some company."

I was not looking for company of an evening, but the price was very tempting. I asked the woman if a morning and evening meal would be included in the price. She nodded.

"My fare will not be that of the wealthy in Whitchurch, but you shall not starve."

The bargain was struck that very afternoon. I returned home for my cart and other belongings, and by nightfall, I was sitting upon the bed in my room and planning my activities for the next day.;

Over the next several weeks, I learned once again the wisdom of my father. Whitchurch, being rather small as cities go, had no tinker in residence. As a result, the women of Whitchurch and the surrounding area were forced to use pots and pans with rusted places or purchase new. Rusted places in some cases spoiled the taste of food, and though the new factories were producing new pots and pans at lower cost than most Master tinkers, the price was still high considering most household incomes.

I was able to increase my purse more quickly than I had planned, and was looking forward to perhaps another year or two before I could afford the rental for a small shop.

Now, also because Whitchurch was small and most people knew what the others were doing, I was very careful not to engage in the activities I had enjoyed with Emily, Elizabeth, and Grace. Such carryings on would have ruined my business if not had me cast out of the city. I did yearn to dip my wick in many of the women I encountered in my travels though, and the opportunity did present itself upon several occasions.

The wife of the town blacksmith seemed particularly interested in

The Tinker's Career: Part 3

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Sun, 11 Oct 2026 03:43:00 +0000

The Tinker’s Career: Part 3

On My Own.

Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected.

The heavy heart I had upon leaving Honiton and Estelle brightened some as I walked along the road. The day was warm and sunny, and I had a feeling of freedom I'd not had for six years. During my apprenticeship, it was a requirement that I eat, sleep, and work according to the schedule of Master Eaton. His schedule even dictated the times when Estelle and I might engage in the skills she taught me, for we could do so only when he was absent from the workshop.

Now, I could do as I wished. Were I to desire a nap in mid-afternoon, all I need do was wheel my cart under the trees, lie down and go to sleep. Were I to feel hungry, no matter what the time of day, I had only to reach into my cart for a crust of bread and a smearing of butter. I did restrain from these practices for the most part. I had only enough food to sustain me for a week, and I did so desire to begin my work amongst the farm people that I traveled from dawn to dusk.

I did miss Estelle's soft warm body against mine, especially so at night when I spread my blankets on the ground. Often I fell asleep thinking of her soft breasts in my hands while my cock stroked in and out of her cunny. While our couplings were not so frequent as I came to desire, they were made even more wonderful by the intervals between them.

The walking and pushing of my cart would be slow, I had thought, but I found my pace nearly that of the coach that had brought me from Whitchurch to Honiton. This was because I need not slow my pace for a particularly rugged stretch of road. I merely steered around the offending pocks and continued on my way.

As I walked, I contemplated how I would go about selling my skills to the people of the farms. They knew nothing of me and it was likely they would not trust me for there were tricksters who also roamed the roads. I composed a short little ditty I would use to announce my arrival, tell the people of my skills, and ask if they had any work.

I came upon a cottage a day and a half after leaving Honiton, and upon nearing the door, I began my song.

I am a happy tinsmith

I travel through the land

To mend your pots and other things

I am the tinker man

Round and deep or shallow

With holes both large and small

Bring them to my tinker's cart

And I will mend them all

The door to the cottage was open to allow in the breeze, and once I had begun my ditty a second time, a woman walked out onto the stoop.

She was an older woman, or at least she appeared to be older than Estelle. Her face had the lines I had seen in my mother's face, and there were a few silver strands showing in the black hair that she had done up in a bun.

Her dress, save for the color, was the same type of dress Estelle had always worn, being high at the neck and low at the hem. Unlike Estelle, this woman wore no slippers. She looked at me with a suspicious eye.

"Who is this who sings at my doorstep about mending pots?"

I bowed, then smiled.

"I am Johnathan Harrison Erickson, Ma'am, and I am a tinker. Have you any pots that require mending?"

"Yes, I have one or two. What is your price?"

I had given the matter of price some considerable thought. In Honiton, the usual price for mending a small spot was two pence, three for a larger spot. Having come from a rural background, I thought these prices somewhat high for those living on a farm. I had established prices that would pay for my time and materials, but not be so high as to cause my customers to reconsider.

"A pence for a small spot, a pence and a half pence for a larger one. Should the mending require adding a piece of tin plate, the price would vary."

"What is a small spot and what is a large spot?"

I smiled again.

"I would have to inspect the spot, of course, but a large spot I would consider one a bit larger than a finger."

She shook her head.

"I am a widow woman, and have little coin. I think I shall continue to use my pots as they be."

As I had traveled, I had also considered this possibility. While increasing my purse was the ideal outcome of my work, some of that purse would be required to purchase food that I might eat on a regular basis. If my customers had no coin, they would probably have oats or a slab of bacon they could spare.

"Ma'am, if you would be so kind as to offer something in the way of grains or meats, that payment would be also acceptable."

Her face brightened.

"I could fix you a meal. I have an ham and some pease from last night."

I had not eaten so well since leaving the workshop, and the prospect of a good meal made my mouth water.

"That would be acceptable, Ma'am. Bring out your pots."

The woman went inside and returned with a large kettle and two small pots. It was a quick matter to mend the pots, just a small dam and some tin solder to each. The kettle was somewhat more of a problem. The tin was gone from a large area of the bottom and when I pressed on this area, the iron gave way and left a hole. I would have to add a patch of tin plate.

The woman watched as I cut the patch, formed it to the contours of the kettle and then soldered it into place inside and out. She smiled as I handed her the kettle.

"That one is a favorite of mine. You know your trade well, I think. Come inside while I heat the ham and pease."

Her kitchen was small with a stove at one end and a small table at the other. She pointed to a chair at the table.

"That chair is where my husband sat to take his meals. It will give me pleasure to see a man sitting there again."

Once the ham and pease had been warmed, the woman sat a bowl full in front of me and then handed me a spoon. She sat on the opposite side of the table while I finished that bowl, and then asked if I would like another.

I should have politely answered no, but I did so enjoy the flavor. She smiled when I handed her the bowl and went to refill it. When she returned, she remarked that I ate as had her husband.

"He would empty a bowl and then ask for more, sometimes twice. He was a man, he was, tall and strong of back. Would that he were still here, for I miss the things he used to do."

I swallowed a mouthful of pease and then asked what those things might be. She smiled and her eyes seemed to gleam.

"Oh, a great many things. My Jacob tended the farm, of course, though my son does that work now. There were other things as well. He carried the wood and water, and ploughed the garden in spring, and ;

She smiled coyly.

"Of course, I can not tell you everything he did for me. You would not understand."

My reply was that I was nearly twenty, and had no trouble understanding most things.

She smiled.

"Do you understand the ways of men with women? It is of that which I speak."

I had not anticipated such a question, and especially not given the difference in our ages. If the woman had a son old enough to tend to the farming, she was surely forty or better while I was still just nineteen.

She sat there smiling while I contemplated my situation, and when I did not answer, smiled at me.

"It appears you are somewhat shy in answering me. That tells me you do understand. Perhaps I can convince you to demonstrate your skills at that task as well. My husband has been gone four years now, and I crave a man's touch. Would you be the man to ease that craving?"

She began unbuttoning the top of her dress. When the button at her waist was released, she opened the dress and smiled again.

Her breasts were at least half again as large as Estelle's and though they sat lower on her chest, were causing my cock to rise. I knew not what to make of this invitation.

"Ma'am, I do not think it would be correct of me to do so. You do not know me and I do not know you."

She chuckled.

"Ah, you wish an introducing first. Very well. I am Emily Stoat, and you gave me your name earlier."

She stood and walked to face me. After taking my hand and placing it upon her heavy, right breast she said, "Johnathan, now we know each other."

I confess the yielding softness under my fingertips took away all my reasoning power. Gently I squeezed that softness and Emily caught her breath.

"Your hand may be a tinker's hand, but it would appear it is also the hand of a lover. Is your other hand so gentle?"

I lifted her other breast, squeezed it gently, and then lightly stroked the thick teat. Emily said no more. She merely grasped my hand and pulled me through a door on one wall of her kitchen.

Upon removing my clothes and lying on the bed beside her naked body, I marveled at her shape. As I related before, I knew her breasts were much larger than Estelle's. I anticipated the same difference in the girth of her waist and hips. While Emily was somewhat larger in both places, the increase in size was not in the same proportion.

Her waist was a bit thicker and her hips were wider, but the increase only increased my desire for her. In fact, I found myself becoming aroused at a faster rate just from the looking.

Emily noticed my arousal as well. She smiled, grasped my rigid cock, and stroked it a little, then chuckled.

"I wonder if you wield this tool as well as you wield your hammer. Pray show me if your skills with the ladies match your skills at mending pots."

I am proud to say I did my best, though such was not a difficult task. Emily proved to be as avid a lover as Estelle, though in somewhat different ways.

While Estelle preferred my attentions to her breasts and teats began softly and increased as did her state of arousal, Emily was more forthright. As soon as I bent my head and took her teat into my mouth, Emily sighed.

"Ah, my young tinker, suckle as the calf suckles the cow and do not fear of causing me harm. 'twill only increase my passions."

Suckle I did and with a somewhat greater vigor than I had with Estelle. The rapid motions seemed to excite Emily very quickly, so quickly that she bade me use two fingers in her cunny. Once my fingers were in her warm portal, Emily adjusted her position somewhat and then sighed.

"Lad, your fingers do so arouse my passions. Were you to add a third, I would become aroused even more."

I did as she asked, but was fearful of injuring the soft portal into which I guided a third finger. Emily sighed as it entered her, then rocked up her wide hips a little. As a result, my three fingers were soon stopped by my hand pressing against Emily's puffy cunny lips and she moaned.

"Oh, lad, for so long I have been denied the feeling of having my cunny stretched so. Already I feel my nectar flowing and the need to feel your cock inside me. Pray, stroke a while more and then impale me on your rod."

I confess that I probably did not stroke Emily so long as she desired, but I was overwhelmed by the way she did move her body to force my three fingers deeper inside her. She did not stop me when I knelt between her upraised thighs and attempted to guide my cock to her portal though. Instead, she grasped my shaft and moved it between her swollen lips for a while, then positioned the head at her entrance.

"Now, Johnathan, fill my cunny with your stiff cock and do not be gentle about it. My husband was a man and it is a man I need inside me now."

I did as best I could and quickly thrust my cock into Emily's wet and slippery depths. She moaned and jerked her cunny up into that thrust. When my sack bumped against her bottom, she moaned again.

"That is the way a man takes a woman, lad. Continue with such thrusts that I may reach my end. It would cause me great pleasure if you were to give my teats some soft bites as well."

When I made my first thrust, I was somewhat concerned that if her cunny could accept three of my fingers the grip of her passage would not be so snug as that of Estelle. Such proved not to be the case however. As soon as my cock began to penetrate Emily's depths I felt a tightening around my rigid shaft. I knew not what caused that tightening, but I was well aware of the effect.

I was not aware of how pinching Emily's teats between my teeth would cause her to react, and that reaction was very interesting. At the first pinch, Emily gasped and I felt her belly tighten under mine. I also felt the grip of her cunny tighten more, a feeling that caused me to edge much closer to my final end.

As I continued to thrust my cock in and out of Emily's gripping cunny and as I alternately suckled and pinched her teats with my teeth, I felt Emily's juices flowing around my cock and down onto my sack. I also heard her little mewing cries and felt her fingers on my backside and attempting to pull my cock inside her deeper.

I was very near my end when Emily sucked in a deep breath, held that breath, and by pushing with her heels lifted us both up off the mattress. I felt the squeezing of my cock relax, then tighten over and over again as Emily let her face flop to the side. Her soft thighs squeezed my waist and then began to quiver. I made one last, firm pinch of her left teat between my teeth and Emily's body became a shuddering sheath that forced me to yield my seed deep inside her. I confess I moaned as the first spurt splashed into her depths, then moaned twice more as my stiff cock spurted.

Emily continued to cause her cunny to milk at my cock even though I was spent. After a time, she slowly fell back to the bed, but held me between her thighs. She stroked my back, and sighed.

"Ah, such a man I have not felt since my husband went to his reward. Would that I could keep you here, for I wish to feel this way again."

While I would have greatly enjoyed staying with Emily, my primary goal was to return to the place of my birth and begin my shop. I did cause Emily to have those feelings two more times before departing though, once later that night and again very early the next morning. As the sun shone it's rays over the trees around Emily's house, she held me close and said her door would always be open to me. I confess that it was with a heavy heart that I pushed my cart on down the road.;

I traveled for half a day before stopping in a grove of trees beside the road for a noon meal. That noon meal was a slice of ham Emily had forced me to take though I told her she had more than settled her accounts with me. She only smiled and said the slice of ham was for my exercise of my other skills. As I munched on the thick slab, I reflected that both my skills gave me great pleasure.

I also realized that exercising the skills I had learned from Estelle were somewhat tiring when practiced several times in a short period. I had finished half the slice of ham when I was overcome by fatigue and fell asleep leaning against the wheel of my cart.

When I woke, the sun was halfway to dropping below the trees. The delay at Emily's, though a very pleasant delay, had cost me nearly half a day of travel. After vowing that I should not be so tempted again, I began pushing my cart down the road.

The sun was nearly behind the trees that lined the roadway when I spied a small farm ahead. Having grown up on a farm, I knew it would be fruitless to call at the house at this hour of the day. The woman of the house would be cooking supper for her husband and her husband would be attending to the chores of the farm such as gathering the hens into their coop and then feeding the livestock. I did resolve to make my call on the morrow after I had seen the man of the house go off to the fields to work.

To that end, I pushed my cart up to the house and then some distance from the roadway and after lighting a fire in the stove I used to heat the copper iron I used for soldering, made myself a small serving of oat porridge. Upon eating that along with a small bit of my ham slice, I put out the fire, got my blankets from my cart, and prepared to take my slumbers.

Sleep was difficult to achieve, I would suppose because of my nap at my noon meal, so I lay there on my blanket and listened to the sounds of the night. It was the night of a full moon, so the darkness usual inside the trees was greatly diminished, so diminished that I could plainly see the house sitting across the roadway. Contrary to what I had always experienced at my old home, light from a flickering candle still lit the single window I could see.

As my eyes refused to close, I rose and ventured toward the roadway as I was curious about that lighted window. I saw nothing but shadows against a wall inside until the sound of the door to the house opening came to my ears. Someone was leaving the house.

At first, I was concerned that I had been discovered, but as it was, it was only the lady of the house making a trip to the privy. In the light of the full moon, I could plainly see her in her white night dress, candle lantern in hand, and striding toward the small privy to the side of the house. I thought nothing of this as it was Estelle's custom to do likewise before retiring.

A short time later, the privy door opened and the woman made her way back to the house. I had no sooner heard the door close than it was opened again. My assumption was this would be the man of the house bent upon the same task, but I was mistaken. The person was another woman in a white night dress on her way to the privy. She was carrying the same candle lantern. I knew this because of the distinctive piercings above the glass windows.

At first, I thought this second person to be probably a daughter, but as I observed her trip, I was struck by the fact that she did not appear or move as would a young girl. She was as tall as the first woman and her wide hips made the same motion as the first. A daughter to the first woman might be as tall as her mother or even taller, but she would not have the wider hips I had witnessed both Estelle and Emily to have.

After the second woman had returned to the house, I expected to see the man of the house next, but no such event occurred. The candle light in the window was extinguished and I assumed the women had gone to bed.

I went back to my blankets wondering at what I had just seen. It was common in the countryside for a husband's or wife's mother to live with the woman and her husband once her own husband had gone to his reward, but neither woman appeared old enough to have birthed the other.

I had never heard of two women living together because such was just not done. A farm required a man to be successful. Women did not understand the working of draft animals nor the husbandry of livestock save possibly the hens that furnished them eggs and the occasional chicken dinner.

Was it possible the man of the house had two wives? This again was not possible. Even in the countryside, people had a very strict moral code.

Now, I knew that in Honiton, t

The Tinker's Career: Part 2

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Sat, 10 Oct 2026 03:40:00 +0000

The Tinker’s Career: Part 2

Estelle’s Training.

Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected.

"I feel a wetness."

Estelle sighed as my fingertip again stroked between her puffy outer lips.

"Yes, it is because you are arousing my passions. The flow will increase as I become more excited. It is so to ease the passage of your cock when that time comes."

I confess I was ready for that time to come at that moment, but refrained from acting upon that urge. Instead, I continued my examination of Estelle's cunny, for having never seen one, I was very curious.

I parted her lips and saw inside another pair of lips. They were much more slender and were an exciting series of ripples that originated at the soft fold of skin at the top of her cunny, the same soft fold I had touched before. As my fingertip traced between those ripples, they seemed to grasp and flow around it. Estelle would also make a tiny little mewing sound with each touch.

As Estelle had predicted, I soon saw a small amount of her slippery/sticky fluid flow from between the lips I stroked. She moaned then, and reached for my hand.

"One finger now; inside my portal; and move it in and out."

I was not certain where such a portal might be located, but reasoned the fluid must originate from that spot. Slowly I moved my fingertip down, probing gently as I did so, until it slipped into a spot that seemed to mold itself around the finger. As I began moving that finger in and out as Estelle had instructed, her hips rocked and she moaned again.

"Yes, Johnathan; that is the way. You stir my fires as they have not been stirred in some time. Pray add another finger to the one that gives me so much pleasure."

The second finger was a snug fit and I was somewhat concerned about injuring Estelle. I inserted it slowly, and when it joined the first in her warm, wet depths, began stroking both in and out. Estelle rocked her hips again, then began lifting her body into each push of my hand.

I felt Estelle's hand on my thigh and looked down. As I watched, she slipped her slender fingers up my thigh and then grasped my rigid cock and began stroking its length. To say that was pleasant would be to say a downpour is slightly damp. My mind was nearly carried away with the sensations she caused with her soft fingers. I knew what was to come soon, and wished she would instruct me to plunge my cock inside her lest I spill my seed on her hand.

She stroked me at the same pace as I moved my fingers in and out of her cunny for a while, then pulled on my stiff cock.

"Put your cock in my cunny now and move it as you do your fingers."

Estelle opened her thighs wide as I knelt between them, and pulled at my cock to guide it to the opening. Once she found the place with my swollen cock, she pulled on it again. I, in turn, pushed in.

The feeling of my cock slipping into her slippery warmth was indescribable. Estelle pulled at my hips to push it deeper inside her, and kept pulling until I felt my sack touching the cleft between her hips. She gasped when the base of my cock spread her lips and flattened them against her body, then sighed when I began stroking.

"Ah; it has been so long I am nearly at my end already."

I was not certain what she meant, but continued to stroke my cock in and out. After only a few moments, I felt my sack tighten and the now familiar feeling that meant I would spew my seed. Knowing the inevitable outcome, I attempted to pull out of her clasping depths that my seed would not be squirted inside her. Estelle gasped, "No; inside me" and then began rocking her hips wildly.

Controlling my actions then became an impossibility, for her gyrations had rendered any such attempt useless. Moments later, I felt the first spurt erupt from my cock when it was at its deepest penetration of her cunny.

Estelle cried out then, and arched her back. My second spurt splashed inside her as she arched higher and then began such a quaking and rocking it was difficult to keep my cock inside her. I did manage in spite of all her motions. With a groan, I thrust my cock deep and shot the last spurt as she cried out and then fell back to the bed.

Estelle wrapped her legs over my back then and held my cock inside her. She sighed and stroked my back.

"Hmm; this first lesson was quite satisfying. You are an apt apprentice."

"I only did as you instructed."

"Yes, but you did so with the great vigor I enjoy. I believe I will have to give you another lesson shortly."

And so Estelle did that night, two more lessons actually. For the second, she taught me of the ways to increase her passion by the rubbing of what she called her pearl. Once she had released me from the entrapment of her legs, I found that nub of flesh had come out from under a little fold of skin at the top of her cunny lips. It was very pink and very stiff, and when I touched it, Estelle nearly jumped into the air.

"Oh, yes; gently now, but continue and I will soon want to be skewered on your wonderful cock again."

The skewering did happen after a while, and Estelle proved to be even more active in her body movements. As I had already spent once, I was able to restrain myself, and continued to stroke my cock in and out of her swollen cunny lips until she cried out loudly and heaved herself up off the bed. The shaking of her body then was more than I could bear. My cock splattered her clasping passage with more of my seed.

The third lesson was the same, except the duration was longer. I attributed this to the partial sating of Estelle's desire and to the fact I had spent most of the seed my body had stored. Still, the ending was every bit as wonderful as the first two, and left me gasping for breath as Estelle pulled me down on top of her. I felt her teats press into my chest as she held me tight. After a few moments, she chuckled.

"I do believe you have a talent for this work."

I also chuckled.

"It was not work, Ma'am. Nothing so enjoyable could be called work."

Estelle stroked my back.

"Be that as it may, you have learned your skills well. Were the hour not late and were I not satisfied for the moment, we would have yet another lesson. I shall leave you for my own bed for now, but we shall continue our lessons when my husband is again away. Do not forget what you have learned tonight."

Estelle then rose from my bed and clasped her hand over her cunny. She chuckled and remarked the next time she would bring a cloth to stop the flow of our juices from her body, then left my bedchamber for her own. I slipped under the blanket and thought of my new teaching.

I was still somewhat fearful of her husband discovering the truth, but then realized Estelle had as much to fear as did I. Her husband would surely cast out both her and I were he to know of our coupling. That understanding caused my fears of discovery to wane, and I fell asleep knowing I would welcome any lessons she desired to teach me.

Still, I was apprehensive for the next two days, but found my fears to be unfounded. Estelle greeted her husband upon his return with a kiss and an embrace, and fixed us a special dinner that evening. Though I watched carefully from the corners of my eyes, she did not so much as look at me through the course of the meal.;

Master Eaton did inquire as to my progress with the manufacture of Estelle's new lantern and I showed him the various pieces I had shaped and filed. He was pleased and suggested I might make various piercings on the sides that the lantern would cast a pleasing pattern of light upon any surface near it when lit.

There were several patterns for such piercings in the shop, but when I examined them, I found them not to my liking. Instead, I drew a new pattern of piercings that pleased me. Upon showing them to Master Eaton, he remarked they were unique and fit for the lantern of his wife. I set about using a sharp punch to make the series of small holes of the design in the four sides of the lantern above the openings for the glass panels.;

Our business began to increase with the cool breezes and shorter days of autumn. The women of the village required new pans for baking of the usual holiday treats, and the waning daylight forced the use of lanterns even in the early evening. Master Eaton and I were busy in the shop from early light to dusk in fashioning these items. As a result, our supply of tin plate quickly required replacing.

I had thought to go with him to the mill for I had never done so, but at the last market, all the pastry cutters we had were purchased and still the women wished for more. He instructed me to stay in the shop and make as many as possible for the next market day.

I was happy with this decision for two reasons. I had the week prior to the market day fashioned a few cutters in the shape of the fir tree that would decorate each home during the Christmas season, and they were quickly sold for a price twice that for the normal round, oval, or star shaped cutters. They were simple to manufacture and required little more time than the other shapes, and it pleased me to know the women of the village wanted more.

The other reason I was happy was that the mill was a day's travel by wagon. Master Eaton would leave at first light, drive throughout the day, and then purchase the new stock of tin plate late in the afternoon. The next morning, he would begin the journey home and arrive in the village as the sun was setting. I would have almost two days and one night for more of Estelle's lessons.

True to my wishes, Master Eaton had only just climbed into the wagon seat and clucked to the horse when Estelle came into the workshop.

"How is my apprentice this fine day?"

"I am doing well, Ma'am. I would hope you are the same."

Estelle sighed, but then smiled.

"I am not, though I believe there to be a cure."

I was certain I knew what that cure might be, and smiled.

"Would I be able to assist with that remedy?"

"Oh, most certainly you can. It is a remedy I have not yet taught you. It may require much practice before the remedy is effective."

In my admittedly limited knowledge, I believed I understood the normal means of effecting that which Estelle desired. I was at a loss as to what she was saying.

"Is there not but one remedy?"

Estelle giggled.

"Johnathan, you have much to learn. There are many remedies, all similar, but all different in some ways. Come. I shall teach you of two that please me greatly."

Once in my bedchamber, Estelle lost no time in removing her clothing. As her loose, long legged under-trowsers fell from her hips and then to the floor, she chuckled.

"The remedy requires you to be without clothing. I cannot teach you if you remain as you are. Surely you are not embarrassed after our earlier lessons."

I was not embarrassed. I was only watching Estelle's breasts wobble about as she removed her clothing and thinking of how they had felt in my hands. I quickly pulled off my shirt, stepped out of my boots, and then unfastened my trousers. My cock bobbed in the air when I stepped from them, and Estelle chuckled again.

"I think my apprentice is ready for the next lesson, for your cock stands at the ready. We shall begin by easing your desires a bit, for I see already a droplet of your essence. That and the flood that will follow cannot enter me this day or I shall quite likely become with child. Do not be sad. There is another way, a way I believe you will greatly enjoy."

With that confusing statement, Estelle took me by the hand and bade me lie upon my bed. She sat down on the edge, then grasped my rigid cock and smiled.

"On such days as this, a proper woman would do thusly."

I watched, spellbound, as Estelle lowered her face to my cock, opened her mouth, and engulfed the swollen head. She sucked at it gently and then I felt her warm, wet tongue licking the underside. Estelle giggled when I groaned.

"Is this not as I said? I believe you do enjoy my new method."

She licked all around the darker head and caused me to groan.

"Yes, it is quite wonderful."

"I quite enjoy my method as well. Perhaps you will find this as pleasant."

Estelle slowly lowered her mouth over my cock head and then down my shaft. I felt gentle suction when her cheeks moved inward and then the sensation of my cock head touching the back of her throat. My hips lurched upwards of their own accord, and only because of her small hand with which Estelle gripped my shaft did it not plunge deeper.

Estelle giggled around her mouthful of my cock and then slowly pulled her lips back up the length. When she reached the rim of my cock head, she sucked a bit harder and swirled her tongue over the tip. My hips lurched again.

Estelle's mouth pulled off my cock head with a little smack, and she looked up at me.

"Shall I continue?"

My hips lurched again because she was slowly stroking my shaft. The feeling was much more arousing than when I did the same.

"As you said, your new methods might require practice to perfect, though I think you have already perfected this one."

Estelle giggled and then circled my cock head with her wet mouth. I felt her hand stroking my shaft as she bobbed her head up and down, and then her other hand fondling my sack.

At that time in my life, not much manipulation was required to bring me to my end, and that end was fast approaching. Estelle's stroking hands and her sucking mouth caused my sack to draw up, and I knew that meant I would spend. I attempted to warn her but she took no heed.

"Estelle, I cannot stop myself."

She only ceased her sucking and looked at my face.

"Then do not. I shall enjoy what is to come."

She resumed her stroking and sucking then, and I felt the end approaching. When I groaned again, Estelle thrust her sucking lips down my shaft until they met her hand and then pulled them back up. She did this rapidly several times before my loins exploded with the release of seed. As the first spurt left my throbbing cock, Estelle swallowed and then continued to swallow. The sensation of her throat closing on my cock head made me groan again as the second, then third and fourth spurt spewed from my body.

I was shaking somewhat when I eased my thrusting hips back to the bed. Estelle sucked as she lifted her lips from my cock. After that same smacking sound as her lips formed around my cock head and then released it, she used her thumb and fingers to strip up my length. She caught the resulting drops on her tongue, slipped that tongue into her mouth and then swallowed again.

"Umm; .I do love the taste of a man and his seed. We shall do this again presently, though you must learn another lesson first. As I enjoy your taste, you must learn to enjoy mine."

Estelle lay down beside me then and pulled my hand to her breast.

"Do as you did for our first lesson. Stroke my pillows and then my cunny. Once I am flowing with passion, I will teach you of what I speak."

I am somewhat proud of the fact that flowing was not long in coming, for this was only my second attempt at applying the skills I had learned. Estelle's teats quickly rose long and taut under my tongue and lips, and shortly after I touched her rippled inner lips, I felt the slippery juices begin to flow.

Estelle was breathing faster, and it was seemingly with difficulty she stopped her little moans in order to speak.

"Oh, yes; you; you have caused the flow. Now, my able apprentice, kneel between my legs as before, but; oh; do not enter my cunny with your cock."

"What am I to do then?"

"Use your tongue to lick my folds and my pearl."

To think of doing so was both fearful and exciting. I had witnessed the dogs on the estate doing the same, but had never given thought that people might do such a thing. Estelle seemed to want this, so I put my fears aside and knelt between her spread thighs.

The hair on her lips glistened with her wetness, and as I had already separated the strands that my fingers might enter her, her swollen lips were visible and a little open. A scent came to my nose as I lowered my face to those lips, a scent I had never smelt before and a scent that made my already stiffening cock twitch. Tentatively I touched those swollen lips with the tip of my tongue.

Estelle's juices were surprisingly pleasant to taste and I wasted no time in licking the length of her lips on the outside. She moaned and adjusted her position to open herself a little more.

"All around the outside and then between", she sighed.

It was with increasing pleasure I did as she asked. I found her outer lips to be very soft and a little puffy feeling. The slender lips hidden inside were even softer and rippled into folds. Both excited me greatly both for the wonderful texture as well as her musky and slightly tart taste.

As I lapped away, Estelle seemed to flow from time to time. I would feel a slight lifting of her hips, and if I let my tongue move down, I was rewarded by the taste of her fresh juices.

"My pearl now", she murmured between moans and gasps.

What I had seen as a small hidden button was now swollen stiff. At the first touch of my tongue, Estelle gasped and lifted her body into my face.

"Oh, yes; do not stop."

I did not stop, for by that time, I had realized if I continued, Estelle would reach her end. Making her do so would give me great pleasure, I thought, even though I could not sheath my cock in her tight cunny. I licked the stiff little button until Estelle was beginning to thrash about on my bed.

From my higher position now, I could look over the crinkled hairs on her mound and see Estelle's face. Her face was to the side and her mouth was open because she was panting. From time to time, she could close her mouth and then lick her lips, then resume her panting breaths. I thought the sight quite a beautiful one.

My tongue happened to slip from the turgid tip and instead stroked the side. Estelle moaned and her body tensed. Reasoning that several types of licking might be better for her than only the one, I began sliding my tongue on each side, then the top, and then back to the tip. Estelle began lifting her hips regularly, just as she had done when she reached her end before. A moment later I felt her hands on my head.

"Oh, Johnathan; I am nearly there. Suckle at my pearl and I shall reach that end."

Though her pearl was small, I was able to seal my lips around it, and I then began to suckle. The effect upon Estelle was quite remarkable. She began to rise slowly by arching her back, and I felt her entire body grow tense. A few moments later, she gasped and her body rose even mor

The Tinker's Career: Part 1

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Fri, 09 Oct 2026 03:39:00 +0000

The Tinker’s Career: Part 1

The adventures of a tinsmith's apprentice.

Based on a post by ron de, in 5 parts. Listen to the ►Podcast at Connected.

I write this memoir to leave somewhat of a legacy to future generations, for my trade, like many, will no doubt be replaced by the mindless machines already in use for the making of pots, pans, and other tin plate work. Some will no doubt shake their heads at parts of this tale, though I make no excuses for it. Such has been my life so far, and it was a life lived to the fullest extent possible. To have done otherwise would mean I would suffer the regrets common to people who have lived a life of propriety until old age and therefore barren of excitement and adventure.

I was born Johnathan Harrison Erickson in the year 1753 on the estates of one Baron Farnsworthy, my father being the manager of the crops and livestock at the estate. My early years are of little consequence save that I grew up, as do most boys, being full of adventure and fearing nothing.

At the young age of twelve years I knew nothing of what I wished to do in life other than to chase the frogs in the brook and to roll hoops with my brother. I was happy doing so even though there were the occasional chores to be done around my father's household.

It was expected that I would carry water to the sheep that provided a lamb for Easter dinner and wool my mother spun into clothing for us. I was also expected to gather eggs from the hen house every morning and evening. The gathering of eggs would have normally been a chore for young girls, but as I had no female siblings, the task fell to me.

I did not mind the sheep. They were calm animals and would always come to my call in hopes of a morsel of the sweet cake of oats and molasses I sometimes brought them. True, were I to turn my back on the ram, he would often give my backside a jolt, but he did so in jest, or at least I believed such.

The hens and the rooster I did not like. The hens seemed to be always moody and pecked at my hands when I tried to take the eggs from under them. The rooster was a massive bird with long spurs, and seemed to believe I was after his harem for some reason. If I did not watch carefully, he would fly at me and try to sink his spurs into my leg. Often I wished for a Sunday chicken dinner at which the rooster would be the main course.

Upon my thirteenth birthday, my father informed me I was to leave home and learn a trade. He also explained that trade would be as a tinsmith, for he had arranged an apprenticeship for me with a Master Richard Eaton of Honiton in Cornwall. I would be indentured to Master Eaton for six years after which I would have attained the skills of a tinsmith and be able to earn a living for myself.

I was somewhat put out by this news. By then, I was aware that while my father was not of the landed gentry, my family did not want as did some, and I had assumed I would follow in his footsteps in a few years for such had been the case with he and his father. To learn that not only was that occupation the one chosen for my younger brother, Edward, but that I was to be banished to a life some hundred miles away was quite a shock.

I would suppose the reason to be one of intellect and constitution. Though a year younger than I, my brother stood a head taller and weighed half again as much. He was as strong as the bullocks he wrestled for the purpose of separating them from their knackers that spring. Strong though he was, he had no sense nor inclination toward mathematics or the manual arts.

I, on the other hand, was of slight build and greatly enjoyed using my mind to guide my hands in the making of things. Mathematics came easily to me, and I easily learned the basic calculations for the length of iron to form a hoop of a certain size and to construct the various angles used by the blacksmith on the estate.

In retrospect, my father's choice was a wise one. I now know I would not have enjoyed the life of a manager of the fields and livestock nearly so much as I have enjoyed the trade of tinker.;

I did not understand this at the time of my departure from the estate and was greatly saddened to see the fine house, barns, and fields fade into the distance as my father drove the wagon to Whitchurch. It was just at first light, and I watched the cows walking toward the barn for their morning milking as the wagon went by their pasture. Boys of my age did not shed tears over something so small as leaving home, though it was with great difficulty I did not do so.

In Whitchurch, my father purchased me a passage upon a coach to Honiton, the village in Cornwall where Master Eaton's shop was located. The journey was to take three days, and after some conversation and the exchange of some coin, the coach driver agreed to guide me through the trip. I was also to sit beside him in his perch high above the horses.

After the first mile, I was happy for that open, but secure seat. Several of the coach passengers rode on the roof, for the fare for those seats was much lower than for the padded seats inside. For the reduction in fare, they had exchanged a soft cushion for the hard, wooden roof of the coach, and the comfort of being inside for holding on with all their might to the railing around the roof lest they fall.

It was indeed necessary to hold tight to something, for the roadway was not at all smooth and level, being pocked here and there with shallow holes and depressions. As these often occurred on each wheel at a different time, the coach was jostled about in a fearful manner.

The driver seemed to ignore these pits, and kept encouraging his team to the trot. At this breakneck speed, the jostling was enough to loosen one's teeth or so it seemed. Many times I heard the two ladies inside the coach cry out in fear as a coach wheel dropped into a particularly deep hole and then climbed back out.

Our first stop was at a way station just outside Andover. At this station, the horses were changed. It was told to me by the coachman this was a new practice. Before, he would have driven his team the ten miles from Whitchurch and then stopped to rest them for an hour. By the changing of the horses, we would be on our way again in only the time required to lead the tired team from the coach and then hook up the traces of the new team.

Indeed, this was the case, and I had time only for a drink of water before climbing to the coachman's box again. He spoke to the new team and cracked his whip, and we were again off.

The rest of the journey is not worth relating save that the ride continued to be harsh, the food bad and the sleeping accommodations worse. After paying my three pence for the first night's lodging and seeing the scurrying insects when I pulled back the blanket, I joined the coachman on one of the seats inside the coach for my sleeping place.;

Our arrival in Honiton was likewise uneventful. I dismounted the driver's box with my small bag of belongings and began looking for Master Eaton. In his letter to my father, he had said he would wear a red shirt. I quickly spied him sitting on a bench in front of the station and went to introduce myself.

Master Eaton looked old to me at the time, but such is the way the young view adults I would suppose. I later learned he was forty-one at the time, and had worked many years as a journeyman to earn the title of Master. He seemed to be a stern man. As my apprenticeship progressed, I found this was the case, but that he was also a fair man in his appraisal of my work. After confirming my name, he walked me to the shop attached to one side of his house.

Though I did not know what to expect, his shop seemed small in comparison to the blacksmith's shop on the estate. It was indeed smaller, but I soon learned it was of the appropriate size for the few tools used by a tinsmith. There was a large table used for the laying out and cutting of the tin plate with a large shear at one end. The only other equipment I saw were two devices of iron shaped like the letter "T" stuck into holes in sections of log and what appeared to be a small stove.

Of more of a surprise was his wife. Upon seeing her in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, I thought her to be his daughter, for she looked very much younger than he. Master Eaton introduced her as his wife, Estelle. She smiled at me and then went back to her work. Master Eaton then showed me the quarters which would be mine for the duration of my apprenticeship. It was a very small room, more of a large closet really, and directly across the hall from the bedchamber he and Estelle used.;

As my apprenticeship was six years and the first four were only my learning the simpler tasks of the trade, it would be somewhat boring to relate those first four years here. Suffice it to say I spent nearly a year at sweeping up the workshop, cleaning the small stove, and filing parts to remove the sharp edges left by the shears. My day began at first light with a breakfast of oats and cream, and ended when the sunlight coming into the workshop through the windows had waned enough it was difficult to see to work. A supper came after a washing up, and then it was off to bed.

Only Saturday and Sunday were different. Saturday was market day, and Master Eaton and I would load his wagon with pails, lanterns, and pots and pans, and then go to the village market to sell them. I was expected to demonstrate the features of each to customers and to announce the price when asked. After a day at the market, we would come back to the workshop. I would again clean up and arrange things while Master Eaton counted the proceeds of the sales.

On Sundays, we did not work. Master Eaton was a pious man, and insisted upon my attendance at church in the mornings. The afternoons were mine to use as I wished, though since I had no coin, I could only enjoy a walk by the river or a trip through the town to see the sights.;

After that first year, Master Eaton taught me to do simple layouts and to use the hand shears. I thought this to be a great achievement at first. After spending hours upon hours laying out and then cutting the ears for pail and lantern handles, I wished for something more. Gradually over that year and the next two, Master Eaton taught me the proper use of the tools in the workshop.

By the fourth year of my training, I could make pastry cutters in various designs for sale to the local women. These small cutters were used to cut the dough used for biscuits and tea crackers into pleasing shapes. They were a joy to make, for I was able to use my own designs as well as the standard stars, circles, and ovals. It was with some pride I manufactured pastry cutters in the shape of the waning moon and the snowmen I had drawn on paper as a child.;

On my eighteenth birthday, Master Eaton instructed me to make a new candle lantern for Estelle as my first major undertaking. She used the lantern to light her way should she need to use the privy after dark. Her old lantern did not yield much light, for the panes were not of glass but of horn scraped thin enough to be mostly transparent. She wished for one with glass panes.

The pattern was to be the same, so I would take her lantern after breakfast, use it during the day to take measurements and to confirm how it was assembled, and then return it to her at dinner. I was very careful in constructing the lantern, because it was a test of my skills by Master Eaton, and also because of its intended owner.

When I first arrived at Master Eaton's workshop, I viewed Estelle as somewhat an ordinary woman. She was not in my estimation a particularly pretty woman though she did have a very pleasant smile and I did like the way in which her long dark-brown hair flowed over her shoulders. Her cooking was very good as were her efforts to maintain a clean house and to care for her husband.

On Saturday of every week she changed the sheets on the beds, including those on mine, then washed them and hung them on the lines behind the house to dry. The other days of the week she occupied her time with other housework or the sewing of clothing for herself, Master Eaton, and once I came to live in the house, for me.

I confess that as I grew older, I began to look upon Estelle in a different way. I began thinking she was a prettier woman than I had at first thought, and by the time I reached the age of eighteen, had discovered her to have a very arousing figure. I could not see much of her curves, of course. The propriety of the day dictated that women not expose themselves to any save their husband. She did have some ways of working, however, that tightened her bodice to her breasts or outlined the curve of her rounded backside when she assumed certain positions. I was always watching from the corner of my eye for one of these positions.

Estelle seemed not to notice my observations. She continued to bend at the waist in front of me when setting my bowl on the table at meal times. Doing so would cause her breasts to well up to the top of her dress, and the soft mounds would draw my eyes and fill my head with thoughts of touching them. She would bend at the waist when retrieving something from her oven as well, and the way her dress outlined her shapely hips caused similar thoughts. Those thoughts usually caused a rising in my trousers.

I understood the rising and its purpose, for I had seen the same rising by the ram each spring. His organ would extend from his sheath as he nuzzled a ewe who seemed to be agreeable to his attentions. He would then mount her and thrust his organ through her swollen portal and pump away for a while. My father had explained this was the way the ram planted his seed in the ewe.

I had no actual teachings in how this might be accomplished by people, though I assumed it to be much the same, for I had witnessed the same event with the cattle and the horses on the estate. I thought surely women must have a similar entrance though I had never seen a woman in such a state of undress that I might do a proper inspection. I could only imagine how such an entrance might appear every time Estelle bent to get some item from a low shelf or her oven.

It was often I imagined such of an evening, and stroked my manhood in an attempt to simulate what I imagined how coupling with a woman would feel. The first time seed erupted from the tip, I gasped, for the sensation was quite overpowering. It was also very pleasant, and from that day forth, I would exercise my imagination when visiting the privy.

Those visits were very pleasurable, though I felt the act would be even more so when done as nature intended. Alas, though I saw several girls of my age as they accompanied their mothers into the workshop to purchase a new pail or pan, I was somewhat backward with the ladies. They were a mystery to me, a mystery that tied my tongue into knots when I attempted to speak to them.;

As I related earlier, Estelle sewed the clothing we wore every day. She was an excellent seamstress, though my trousers and shirts tended to be loose fitting at first. Her reasons for the fit was that I was growing taller and broader through the shoulders, and were the fit proper at first, I would quickly be stretching her seams to the breaking point. She would size my clothing by using a string to obtain the various lengths and circumferences required, and then lay the string upon a rule and record the actual dimension.

I was eighteen and a half when she came to the workshop one afternoon. Master Eaton happened to be away at the rolling mill to purchase a supply of tin plate that day. I was taking the measurements for Estelle's new lantern at the time.

Estelle smiled and said my trousers were nearly worn through at the knees and she would make me a new pair. She produced her measuring string and began.

Estelle wrapped her string around my waist as she had in the past, but her fingers seemed to trace from my sides to my belly in a somewhat different manner. I took little notice of this as her interruption would cost me half an hour of working time and Master Eaton had given me a required date for the completion of her lantern.

Estelle pinched the string between her fingers, then laid it on her rule and noted the length on a small piece of paper. Then, she used her string to measure from my waist to my ankles. Again, her fingertips seemed to trace the path of the string, and this time, I felt a twinge in my manhood. She recorded that measurement as she had for my waist and then proceeded to measure from my ankle to my crotch. She had never made this measurement in the past and I wondered at the reason.

She smiled at my expression.

"Boys do not require so loose a fit as men. As you are nearly a man, I must increase the fit that you may be comfortable."

I understood her meaning and thought this to be a reasonable explanation, though my manhood and sack had been of a quite larger size for some time now. That there might be a different reason did not occur to me until she made the measurement.

With her left hand, Estelle held the end of her string at my ankle. She asked me to spread my legs a little, and once I had done so, her right paid out the string as she slowly moved her hand upwards. Her fingers brushed the inside of my thigh and I felt that same stirring in my manhood. They moved further up, still slowly, until they touched my sack. My manhood gave a lurch that pushed out the front of my trousers.

I was quite embarrassed, but Estelle seemed not to notice. When she turned to do the recording, I quickly pushed my manhood to an upright position and somewhat relived the bulge in my trousers.

Estelle made the measurement several times, saying she wished to be certain of the dimension. I was certain she would notice how my erect manhood still bulged my trousers since her hand touched it with each measuring attempt, but she said nothing. After she measured around my thigh in the area of my crotch and touched my sack several times in the process, my manhood was frightfully erect and I knew she must see it. Still, she gave no indication different than in the past.

As one might surmise, my manhood would not lay back down after such an experience. When Estelle went back into the house, I went to the privy. Remembering how her small hands had touched my body was enough to bring an end to my arousal. I went back to the workshop to resume my work.;

As I had learned from Master Eaton, all Masters of a certain craft belonged to a guild of those craftsmen. They met from time to time to discuss the craft and more importantly, the pricing of such goods the craftsmen made. In this way, they were able to value their wares at such prices as would bring in a good income and no Master would seek to price his work lower than any other. A week after Estelle had measured me for my new trousers, Master Eaton left for the guild meeting. I knew from past meetings it would be the next morning when he returned.

Estelle and I ate our evening meal and then prepared for bed. As was my usual practice, I went to the privy to relieve myself that I should not require the trip halfway through the night. Upon returning to the house, I quietly walked down the short hall for I did not wish to disturb Estelle. When I passed her door, it was ajar a ways, and I could not stop myself from looking through the opening.

Estelle stood beside their bed and she was without any clothing at all. She was facing away from me, and I felt my manhood begin to rise at the sight of her slender thighs, soft rounded hips, and the small diamond shaped opening between those thighs and hips. I could not tear away my eyes. Such a sight I had never before seen, and my mind drank in every soft curve.

Estelle turned toward me then, and her full breasts swayed gently at the movement. They were round and soft looking, and her teats were large, darker lumps sitting on likewise dark circles in the very centers of the firm

Lusty Lessons From Bible Camp: Part 4

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Wed, 07 Oct 2026 21:01:00 +0000

Lusty Lessons From Bible Camp: Part 4.

The Power of an honorable woman.

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

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

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

Quite by accident, I'd also gotten a second job. With the low rent at the Co-Op, I didn't really need it, but still; I loved it.
Despite my tirade and vows of celibacy, I began visiting the fraternity periodically to see my boyfriend; which everyone assumed was Paul. Under Tyrant Tim's watchful eye, the guys of the house always behaved respectfully, though with a few pitying looks because they knew that Paul was quite unfaithful to me and had a steady stream of different girls going and coming (loudly) in his room. Kurt still dwelled like a goblin in Paul's closet, but thanks to a rope ladder, he was able to come and go more easily -- usually to come guilt-trip me about making him wait to have sex with me again until he wasn't living on an air mattress in a frat house closet. It was because of these fraternity trips that I fell backwards into a job I loved.

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

From: timbradbury@UMN.EDU

To: melaniepalmberg@UMN.EDU

Subject: Invoice Request.

Dear Ms. Palmberg,

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

Yours truly,

Timothy Bradbury.

Chapter President, Sigma Phi Epsilon, University of Minnesota

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wholesome? Like what?"

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

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

From: timbradbury@ UMN.EDU

To: melaniepalmberg@ UMN.EDU

Subject: Invoice Request.

Dear Ms. Palmberg,

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

Yours truly,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lusty Lessons From Bible Camp: Part 3

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Tue, 06 Oct 2026 21:00:00 +0000

Lusty Lessons From Bible Camp: Part 3

Kurt and Melanie find out love is simple, life, not so much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought that was plastic;" I mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lusty Lessons From Bible Camp: Part 2

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Mon, 05 Oct 2026 20:59:00 +0000

Lusty Lessons From Bible Camp: Part 2

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Reunion: Kurt and Melanie find themselves together again at college.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean?"

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

"Seriously? Just because you; "

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

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

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

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

"Your parents divorced?"

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

"Or more different from you?"

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

"Did your birth father; "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lusty Lessons From Bible Camp: Part 1

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Sun, 04 Oct 2026 20:58:00 +0000

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Camp counselors don't always follow the rules.

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

After lights out on the first night of my last year at Pipestone Lake Bible Camp, I stared up at the bunk mattress above me, listening to the crickets outside and the whispered giggles of my girlfriends in the cabin. I felt a little silly still going to my childhood bible camp at the age of 18, but at the same time it was so hard to let go. I didn't feel ready to be out in the world, yet, and college was only a few weeks away. Pam, the camp counselor reminded us again that there was no talking after lights out, and the giggling eventually died out. This year was our wistful goodbye to the camp of our childhood and our excitement, fueled by years of fun memories and many joyful summers, made it difficult to sleep. We were good girls at heart, though, and did our best to comply. The snickers were gradually replaced by heavy sleepy breathing and the occasional soft snore. My mind drifted on the night, almost asleep, when a slight squeak and a click quickly brought me back. Counselor Pam had left our cabin through the back door. Curious, and no longer sleepy, I followed her out of the cabin, through the woods, to the chapel where we attended church services twice every day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jenna Goes To Church: Part 2

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Sun, 04 Oct 2026 15:28:11 +0000

The Curate loses his virginity.

A series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

At this Sunday's service, there was much talk of the upcoming harvest festival. Members of the congregation were encouraged to donate fruit and vegetables, along with non-perishable items for the local food bank.

Jenna had made an effort and brought along a bag of apples. She placed the bag on the side table in the church hall.

"I don't know how a brazen hussy like you has the cheek to set foot in a church."

Jenna remained calm, as she turned to face Mrs. Norris. "Well I'm a Christian, the same as you."

"Huh! Christian my foot. I saw what you and the organist were getting up to and I think it's disgusting! In the church of all places! And he's old enough to be your father!"

"Well if you clutch those pearls of yours any tighter they'll crumble to dust. And Gordon and I happen to be consenting adults. Single consenting adults. So there."

"Why you, you, .horrid little slag!" Mrs. Norris fumed, lip quivering. She stormed off.

Jenna exhaled and rolled her eyes.

"Coffee or tea?" a friendlier voice asked. It was Debbie, the Sunday school teacher, who was volunteering to do today's hot drinks rota in the hall.

"Tea please," Jenna replied.

"You ok?"

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

"Don't let that old bag get to you. She's a nasty one. She's horribly ageist. Not to mention xenophobic too. I overheard her mocking Yulia's English skills last week. I can't stand her. Her husband's not that bad, he's a tedious fusspot, but there's no malice in him. But her, she's poison."

"I heard her hubby spreads gossip on Facebook." Jenna said.

"More likely that's her doing." Debbie replied. "I'd be surprised if John Norris even knows how to switch on a laptop."

A brief chill ran through Jenna. What if Mrs. Norris were to post some bile about her online? "I don't use social media anymore," she said. "Briefly poked my nose into Twitter as a teen, but didn't like the pile-ons."

"Wise. I'm on Facebook, but only to keep up with church stuff. I never post anything about my private life. I imagine Mrs. Norris would have a stroke if she knew I was dating a woman. A married woman at that. Keep it to yourself. I'm not ready to come out yet."

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

Jenna sipped her tea quietly as she observed the other members of the congregation file into the hall. She was hoping Reverend Morris would soon arrive, but after fifteen minutes, there was still no sign of him. Then there was Gordon; he never came into the hall after a service, and he'd sent her that amusing text message on Friday, about Charles Wesley and his "bulging hymn book."

She headed out of the hall, in search of Gordon, when Josh the curate came staggering in, carrying a massive pile of hymn books. He almost collided with Jenna and dropped a couple of books.

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

Jenna bent down and picked up the books. "You're loaded up like a pack horse. Let me give you a hand. Where are you taking all these?"

"Um. So kind!" His pale cheeks went pink. "The storeroom at the far end of the hall. These are spare hymn books."

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

"Oh, he and the organist are in a meeting. One of the organ pipes has just been repaired."

"Damn," Jenna muttered under her breath. "Oh dear. How sad. I guess he'll miss his tea and biscuits."

She followed Josh down to the storeroom. She'd never paid much attention to the curate before, but looking at him now, she realized that he was rather cute. Mid-twenties, tall and stocky with fair hair and a chubby face. There was an endearing innocence about him. Reverend Morris had said he was hoping to complete his ordination next year and become a fully-fledged vicar. He'd been impressed by his devotion to the church - but he needed to come out of his shell a bit and interact more with worshippers. Josh was a shy man and lacking in self-confidence. Remembering this information made Jenna smile.

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

The storeroom was vast, and crammed from floor to ceiling with box files, books, old furniture and plastic crates.

"Holy sh,, I didn't know this room existed. And what a lot of stuff for one small church!" Jenna exclaimed.

"Heh, yeah." Josh said, putting the books down. "It's not just for St Michael's. We share it with St John's and the Methodist church on Oakwood Road."

Jenna began putting the books on the shelf.

"Um you don't need to do that,”

"Jenna."

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

"Oh I don't mind. Why should you have to do all the donkey work? This room is a tip. Besides, a good Christian should help others, right? Especially the vicar's right-hand man. That's what a curate is, yes?"

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

"Have you always wanted to be a curate?"

Josh sat down on a stool. "In truth, no way. I wasn't religious at all when I was a kid. I suffered from crippling shyness. I used to dread being asked to read in front of the class. When I was ten, my dad walked out, and that affected me a lot. Haven't seen him since. Mum turned to drink, I relied on my grandad for support. He became a father figure to me. He used to be a vicar. Thanks to him I survived my teens and passed my exams. I was eighteen when he died. That's when I decided I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Without him - and God, I fear, well I may have gone down a dark path. Got in with a bad crowd. Taken drugs, self-harmed, maybe ended up in jail."

"Wow." Jenna replied, realizing how cosseted and safe her upbringing had been. "Well I'm so glad your grandad was there for you."

"There are still days when I doubt myself and I'm in a bad place. I feel useless."

"Don't put yourself down," Jenna said, walking towards him. "You're an amazing role model, especially for younger people."

Josh blinked. "You, think so?"

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

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

"Women round here must be blind," Jenna added, making him squirm with embarrassment. She leant forward and planted a kiss on his lips. He trembled, cheeks turning redder.

"J-Jenna, don't,”

"It's alright Josh. You're not committing a sin or anything. We're not inside the church, if that's you're worried about."

"N-no, it's not that. I, um,” The curate sighed. "I, I'm just scared of, I don't know if I can, do this."

She already knew he was single and straight, but decided to question him. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, but, um, that's the problem really. I'd like one, but I wouldn't know how to tell her,”

Jenna stroked his arm. "Tell her what?"

"I worry she'd laugh at me."

"Josh. Whatever it is, I promise I would never laugh at you. And I will understand."

He looked down. "Shit. I'm twenty-five. And I'm still a virgin! I've never gone beyond kissing a girl."

She kissed his cheek again. "Oh Josh. That's nothing to feel awkward about. In fact I admire you. In this age when we're bombarded with over-sexualized imagery 24/7 both online and offline, finding someone who's chosen to wait is pretty awesome in my opinion. I lost mine just days after reaching the age of consent. I couldn't wait to lose it. But that's just me,”

"Yeah but, I, um,”

She pulled him to his feet and gently coaxed the truth out of him. "You want to lose your virginity, yes?"

"More than anything. But, dating today is scary. It's a minefield. Especially after Me Too. I'm afraid. I don't want to say the wrong thing and come across as some horny creep,”

Jenna held back a chuckle. Mrs. Norris probably thinks of me as a horny creep. She thought.

"I get that. But trust me. I don't think a sweet, kind-hearted man of God like you could ever be a creep. Horny yes, nothing wrong with that of course." She winked at him and he gulped. "How about it? I think you're ready right now."

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

"Why not? It's nice and private, And you're a really sexy curate!" Her face was just inches from his own, hovering there. Then her lips were on his, dancing there softly for a moment before pulling away.

"Jenna,” He was already rock hard, and hoped his cassock had disguised this fact.

"Shush. You're very special." She whispered, barely audible. "You're warm, caring, You're strong. You deserve to be experience the joys of the flesh." She kissed him again. It's okay to feel nervous. First time is always a bit nerve-racking. But just relax. You'll be just fine,”

What an adorable lamb to the slaughter, Jenna thought to herself. He's so scared and unsure. I've never seduced a virgin before, so I'd better not go too hard on him. I do love a challenge. With a bit of encouragement, this sweet guy could have real potential.

The touch of her lips sent a fire through his body, a jolt that brought a tingle to every micron of his skin. "Oh, Jenna!"

"Shhh." Her lips caressed his own, then his nose, his ear. "Don't talk just now, okay?"

"Mmm?"

She kissed him again, gently caressing his upper lip between her own. At last, he responded.

"Josh." Jenna smiled cheekily. "You're a pretty good kisser, you know that?"

"Really?"

Just relax. I'm not going anywhere, there's no rush. All we have to do is discover each other. There's no hurry. No-one's going to come in here. I imagine the vicar will be busy for ages."

Jenna ran her hand down the front of his black cassock. "Oh my, you're more than ready. "Let's get these buttons unfastened." She knelt before him, opening the cassock and revealing the black trousers underneath. And another straining crotch bulge.

"I'm going to worship you," she whispered, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. Josh was wearing plain black briefs underneath. It was fun seeing the different types of undies men wore. First there was Reverend Morris with his "holy boxers," then Gordon and his sensible white y-fronts, now Josh with smart black tight-fitting briefs.

"Everything will be fine. I promise. Close your eyes if it makes you feel better, okay?"

The curate hesitated still, but Jenna's smile was reassuring and gentle. "I promise you'll like it." With a shudder, Josh squeezed his eyes tight as his trousers and underwear were lowered, and he could feel the cool air of the room, then Jenna's warm breath on his manhood.

"There we are."

He couldn't resist a peek, through half-closed eyes. He was painfully stiff, of course, harder than he'd ever been in his life, but he didn't need his eyes to tell him that. He shivered as Jenna ran her hand through his pubes and stooped to kiss him there. He gasped as her smooth palm encircled him.

"Oh my God!"

"Mmm. So beautiful. Truly God's gift to women. Just relax, don't fight the feeling. Isn't it nice?" Jenna kissed the very tip of his member, and he gasped and moaned, his muscles tensing. "Don't fight it now Josh, just let the feelings come. Relax and let it take you. You don't have to hold it back, just let it come." With that, she closed her lips around his head, tasted him with her tongue.

"Uh! Oh Jesus!" The curate groaned. The crescendo was boiling in him now, wonderful and frightening and exhilarating. Nothing could have prepared him for the warm embrace of a woman's mouth, the slight roughness of her tongue as she rolled it up and down his length. No porn, no fantasy could have approached the sensation of her lips gently drawing on his cock, coaxing him towards a peak of indescribable pleasure. The fire was in him and around him, consuming him and his thoughts until all that he was became the connection with her, his flesh and her mouth. Her hands cradled his cock gently as he built towards climax, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow.

"Oh,”

"Let it come."

Josh sighed deeply in relief as Jenna enveloped him again, shuddered as he felt himself swell between her lips, as he released himself to her, surrendered to her, spurting his cum. She lingered over his manhood, slowly coaxing him down from the heights of his ecstasy. She gently licked his shaft and kissed a drop of his essence from the tip, and smiled up at him.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" She said, standing up. "Did you enjoy your first blowjob?"

"Jenna. Fucking hell!"

"I'll take that as a yes?"

"Yes!" he gasped.

"Oh good. Because we're not done yet. You don't get off that easily you know!" Jenna began unfastening her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Josh's eyes widened. She wasn't wearing any panties.

An old, battered table was in the middle of the storeroom. Jenna cleared it and reclined on it, spreading her legs and unfastening her blouse. No bra!

"Your turn."

Josh crossed himself.

"Just trust your instincts." She whispered, lowering herself onto her back. Josh stared at her for a second, dumbstruck by her beauty and timid as a deer. Her gently smiling face and the flowing red hair that framed it, the round fullness of her breasts, her long legs, and the tantalizing lure of her wet womanhood between,

Finding his courage at last, Josh moved close. With a shaky hand he reached out and tentatively cupped her left breast. Tracing the nipple with his thumb, ever so gently.

"Mmm nice, Josh. Keep going!"

Encouraged, Josh lowered his mouth to her other breast, the memory of the delightful sensations she'd given him earlier fresh in his mind. He felt her run her fingers through his short blonde hair as he tasted her with his tongue, heard her sigh as he closed his lips around her nipple.

"Gently now."

"Sorry!"

The curate feasted on her breasts for a bit longer, before moving down to her abdomen, planting more kisses, then he paused for a moment. Jenna said nothing, silently urging him to carry on, and he did. Tentatively, he kissed the inside of her thighs, tracing a finger through the trimmed hair above her slit.

Josh continued to lovingly kiss her thighs, his nerves beginning to fade. The heady scent of her was overpowering, emboldening him to trail a finger between her cunt lips. The wetness he felt there surprised him, and he glanced up.

"You're doing great, Josh." Jenna answered in a throaty whisper. "Please don't stop."

He ran a finger over her clit, causing her to let out a moan. Lowering his head, he caressed her softly with his mouth, tasting her.

"Oh Josh,” He suckled gently on her clit and she let out a scream.

"Jenna?" He pulled away from her, his fear returning. "Did I hurt you?"

"No Josh. It was incredible, that's all. When you licked me down there, wow. You sure know how to thrill a woman. You learn quick! But don't make me cum just yet. Because I want you inside me when it happens."

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

"Are you ready?"

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

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

"Oh, right. Good,”

"Think of this as doing God's work," Jenna purred, urging him to get on with it. She was eager to feel that virgin cock inside her.

Slowly he positioned himself above her on the creaking table. Jenna took his cock in her hand, guiding him. He felt the head of his organ nestle inside her.

"Lord in Heaven!" It was such exquisite torture, fighting the urge to cum as fast as he could. The feel of her cunt as it sheathed him was beyond even the joys he'd felt already.

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

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

Jenna slowly relaxed her control, allowing him to work his cock in and out of her more forcefully. He thrust in deep, as far as he could, and gasped, savoring the sensation.

"Oh Josh, that's so good!"

He speeded up, as she wrapped her legs round him. Soon he was pounding her like a pro.

"Jenna!" He could feel his climax coming now, a mighty force of almost Biblical proportions. Just as Jesus drove out many devils, Josh drove out his virginity, casting it aside forever. He'd been freed.

"Ugh!" With a roar of release the curate came, filling Jenna's womanhood with his seed. Josh wasn't sure how long his orgasm lasted. But he knew that it was wonderful, an epiphany of sensation, and that Jenna writhed and gasped in the throes of her own climax in perfect harmony with his.

When they'd both calmed down, Jenna held him close and kissed him. "Are you okay? You were amazing, Josh, do you know that? How are you feeling?"

"Just fantastic, absolutely fantastic! I, wow. That was, incredible. Um, do you mind if I say a quick prayer for both of us?"

"Not at all. You go ahead."

When he'd finished, he opened his eyes and looked at Jenna, who was smiling broadly. "You are going to become a bloody amazing vicar!" She said.
An Erotic Dream & an organ lesson.

T'was the Year of Our Lord 1739, and on a road bound for London, weary preacher and hymn writer Charles Wesley had just arrived at a tavern.

"Innkeeper! I hath been riding all day and my poor horse be in the great need of water and rest. As am I." Charles said.

"Fear thee not, good fellow, I'll tend to thine horse!" The innkeeper replied. "If it's a room for the night you're looking for, then ye hath come to the right place. Here at the Lamb Inn, there's always a warm greeting for a weary traveler. I'll leave ye in the capable hands of my fine wench Jen, who is adept at making gentlemen feel welcome,”

"Greetings to you sir!" Jen said, and Charles was a little taken aback by this stunning redheaded wench. "If you'd like to follow me, I'll lead you to your bedchamber." She picked up a candle and gave him a seductive smirk.

"Gladly, Miss!" Charles replied, following her up the creaking wooden staircase. In the main room, sounds of merriment filled the air as many men supped ale and enjoyed the company of willing wenches.

"I see you're a man of faith, sir," said Jen as she reached the top of the stairs. "Have you travelled far?"

"Aye, all the way from Bristol. I write many hymns. I'm going to visit my older brother John, who's in London. He's a preacher too. In fact he,”

"Oh gosh, of course! Your brother must be John Wesley, founder of that Methodist movement I keep hearin' about!"

"That's right! I'm Charles Wesley."

Jen entered the bedchamber. "Here we are, Mr. Wesley. I trust the room is to your liking? This happens to be a new room - never been used before. Bed never slept in, chair never sat on, chamber pot never,”

"Ah, glorious!" Charles interrupted her. "It looks most excellent. I am indeed blessed to have been afforded such kindness. God is good!"

"Mmm, thanks be to God," Jen replied, eyeing up Charles. He was young and rather attractive for a man of the cloth. Most of the clergy she'd encountered in her life had been very old men.

"There be a fresh jug of water on the table for you, Mr. Wesley. We're lucky here. The Lamb has a deep well which provides safe, clean water to drink. That's why we get so many visitors desperate to quench their thirst without worry of getting the flux."

Charles nodded as he put his bag down on the chair and removed his black robe. That four poster bed looked so inviting.

"Why don't you sit on the bed, Mr. Wesley? I cannot help but wonder, after all that riding, do you not grow a little stiff?"

"Um, I am a

Jenna Goes To Church: Part 3

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Sun, 04 Oct 2026 15:26:54 +0000

A Visit From The Bishop

A series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Reverend Morris anxiously paced back and forth in the lounge. He was in turmoil; he'd just received a letter from Bishop George, who was planning to visit him. On top of that, he'd been agonizing all day how to finally tell Lucy that their marriage was over. The past few weeks had seen his safe and somewhat dull life turned upside down. Ever since that romp with Jenna Fox in the vestry. What seemed to be a wild, one-off had now morphed into a passionate relationship. Now the vicar was seriously falling in love with the much younger woman.

And what about Christopher? His four-year old son had just started school. Now a way would have to be found to gently break the news that Mummy and Daddy would no longer be living together. How would he cope with that? Then there would be the gossips at church. Some of the older members of the congregation would tut and register their disapproval. A vicar of all people, a role model and pillar of the community, cheating on his wife with a woman twenty years his junior! Every week he preached about being a good Christian. Now he couldn't help but feel he was nothing but a hypocrite.

"Bishop George won't take kindly to this," he remarked. The man was known not to suffer fools gladly.

Hearing Lucy's car pull up on the drive, Reverend Morris took a deep breath. It was confession time. He fiddled with his thumbs as the front door opened.

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

"I dropped him off at your mum's," Lucy replied. "Simon, we need to talk. I have to tell you something really important. It can't wait."

"I, had a feeling you might say that. There's something I need to tell you too, you see I,”

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

"Simon. I've not been honest with you for some time now. It's not fair, and you have every right to feel angry. I've treated you terribly these past few years, pushing you away, shutting you out. Then six months ago, it happened. This is hard for me to explain,”

"Please tell me," Reverend Morris replied. "Is there, someone else?"

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

Suddenly, the reverend felt less guilty. That they'd both met other people made it more bearable. But there was still their son to think about.

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

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

Reverend Morris blinked. "She? Oh,”

"Debbie Adams, you know, she teaches at the Sunday school? That's why it's been so difficult. So yeah, it's 2022, but it's still hard to be gay, and a vicar's wife. Especially in a tight-knit community like St Michael's. Many nights, I have sat and prayed to God. I asked him for courage and forgiveness. For how I have sinned."

He took her hand. "I'm happy you found the courage to be yourself. And to fall in love isn't a sin, Lucy."

"You're a wonderful man, Simon. You're being so understanding about this. I've been dreading saying anything, but I needn't have worried."

Reverend Morris awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "I would've supported you no matter what. Um, but I guess now's the right time to confess that I've been seeing someone else too."

Lucy smiled. "Oh really?"

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

"Blimey, Simon. Oh yes. I've seen her. She is really attractive, not my type, but a stunner. I can see why you fell for her."

Reverend Morris' face was turning red. "I worry about the age gap though, I mean she's twenty and I've just turned forty, that's not a good look is it? Others will disapprove."

"Simon, love is love. These others you speak of will just have to deal with it."

"Bishop George won't approve. He's planning to visit me in the next few days."

"I don't think he's the monster you make him out to be. He seems pretty liberal deep down. Didn't he once have a much younger wife?" Lucy asked.

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

"Ouch."

"Who was older than him! The priest was defrocked of course and he and Julia emigrated to the Costa del Sol, where they now run a beachfront bar called Unholy Orders,”

"About Christopher," Lucy began. "We should tell him together."

Reverend Morris nodded.

Another Sunday and another morning Eucharist at St Michael's. Josh the curate was at the door, welcoming the faithful. Yulia and a group of other young woman grinned at him as they went inside. Normally, Josh would've nodded and blushed, but not anymore. Today he shook their hands, smiled back and had a little chat with them. When he noticed Jenna approaching, the curate's smile widened some more.

"Hello Jenna!"

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

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

"Naughty boy. Nice day for a church service of course! Looks like you have some female admirers over there," she said, glancing at Yulia and her friends.

There was a notable absence in the church - John Norris and his wife were nowhere to be seen. The gossip-mongering pensioners who sat in the front pew wasted no time in digesting this new information.

"Well I heard that he moved out for a few days. They had a blazing row at the Harvest Social."

"Margaret saw Patricia on the bus. Talk about having the wind taken out of your sails. She was beside herself."

"Best place for her. A poison-tongued harpy of the highest order! I feel sorry for John. He doesn't need that sort of upset. He's on beta-blockers. They've decided to have a few days in Wales, to try and patch things up."

"If my husband had been writing the sort of stuff like Patricia put on the Internet, I'd have told him to sling his hook!"

Tony had volunteered to read the first reading, which was from the Book of Revelation. He twitched and sniffed as he spoke, and got a little carried away as he went on.

"Then I saw coming from the mouth of the dragon, the mouth of the beast, and the mouth of the false prophet, three foul spirits like frogs. These spirits were devils, with power to work miracles. They were sent out to muster all the kings of the world for the great day of battle of God the sovereign Lord!"

"He'll have a stroke if he carries on like that," the old ladies whispered.

Tony continued. "This is the day when I come like a thief! Happy the man who stays awake and keeps on his clothes, so that he will not have to go naked and ashamed for all to see!"

Some small children sat at the front looked terrified.

"This is the Word of the Lord!"

Tony sat down. The second reading was a much calmer passage from Romans. Jenna smiled when Reverend Morris took to the pulpit, ready to deliver his sermon.

"Today, I'd like to talk all about love, forgiveness and honesty," he began. "I'm sure you've all heard that old saying. If you love someone, let them go. Why not hold onto them if you love them?

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

Through the fights, the struggles, and the pain, shouldn't we keep trying to keep the relationship going? The true meaning of loving someone and letting them go starts with being selfless, not selfish. There is another old saying. Honesty is the best policy. Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to be honest with you all today. My wife Lucy and I are getting divorced.

Several loud gasps arose from the congregation. Jenna glanced round, trying to remain composed. She shifted anxiously in the uncomfortable pew. Was the vicar going to mention her name?

"That's right. I know this will come as a shock to you all. You see, both of us have fallen for different people. Now, whilst we may no longer have romantic love for each other, we still care about each other. As you know, Lucy and I have a young son, Christopher, and his welfare is of paramount importance. Our split has been completely amicable. Lucy has moved out of the vicarage and we have agreed a 50/50 shared custody,”

Josh looked up at the vicar in sympathetic understanding, as did Gordon. Meanwhile, some of the old ladies looked to be on the verge of nervous breakdowns. Jenna's heart was pounding.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Reverend Morris continued. "I know what some of you must be thinking. What sort of vicar preaches about the sanctity of marriage, and seven deadly sins, the shame of sin, and lo, he has sinned himself. I won't think ill of any of you. I have spoken to God and believe he has forgiven Lucy and I."

Suddenly, Tony stood up. "Good for ya, Vicar! You're a top bloke. You helped me get off the crack. So like, I'd forgive you anything, man." He started clapping. Jenna joined in, and moments later, the rest of the congregation broke out in applause.

Sat at the organ, Gordon was clapping furiously. He noticed Jenna gazing adoringly at the vicar and gave a wry smile. "I wonder who his new woman could be?" He said to himself.

Jenna made her way straight to the vicarage after the service ended, intending to prepare herself ready for Reverend Morris. She was hornier than usual, and had much to discuss with the vicar. He'd given her a key to let herself in with.

Alone in the house, Jenna removed her conservative clothing and changed into a far racier outfit - a short black dress, with lacy red panties underneath. She was just touching up her makeup, when there was a knock on the door.

"Oh he's back already," she smiled. The vicarage was only five minutes from the church. "Guess he didn't bother to go to the church hall,”

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

Instead of the vicar, a stern-looking man who was the spitting image of Frollo from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame, was standing there.

"Good morning," the mystery man replied. The clerical collar, purple shirt and cross round his neck were obvious indicators that he was a church person, but Jenna had never seen him before.

"Um, can I help you, sir?"

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

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

"I'd prefer to come in and wait. I'm Bishop George. The Reverend is expecting me."

The bishop? Yikes, Jenna thought. He's the vicar's boss. I'd better behave myself. She glanced at him as he entered the lounge.

At least, I must try to behave myself,

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

Jenna was tempted to lie, but lying to a bishop felt like a great sin, so she declined. "No. I'm, a friend of the vicar."

Bishop George nodded. "Ah yes. I didn't think you were a babysitter. Seeing as Lucy and Christopher have moved out. I admire your honesty, my dear."

Jenna froze. Shit. Does he know everything? Did Reverend Morris have to confess everything to the bishop in private? Or had he been lurking somewhere in the church earlier and left before she did?

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

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

"Right, coming up,” Jenna turned and bumped into the coffee table, knocking some books onto the floor.

"Clumsy me," she muttered, and bent down to pick them up, exposing her red lacy panties.

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

A few minutes later, Jenna returned with a cup of tea. "Here you are, um, Reverend? I'm sorry, I don't know how to address a bishop, I've never met a bishop before!"

"Just call me George." He replied, taking the cup. "Thanks so much. You must be Jenna, yes?"

"Yes."

"I know about you," he continued. "I spoke to Reverend Morris by phone a few weeks ago, when the Queen died. There was a notable increase in his happiness, and I could tell he was really excited about something. He was eager to tell me that there'd been an increase in people attending St Michael's. Then he mentioned you. Several times. And then I realized,”

Jenna sat directly opposite him in an armchair. Her legs were crossed. "What did you realize, George?"

She uncrossed her legs.

Bishop George felt his cheeks flush. She'd removed her panties in the kitchen!
Jenna Pleases the Bishop

Bishop George twitched as a brief tantalizing glimpse of something forbidden was revealed to him.

But the panties, those glorious red lace panties! What had she done with them?

"Well,” he began, a little hoarsely, "you've obviously had quite the effect on him."

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

"What do mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing." Bishop George muttered, sipping his tea. "You just reminded me of someone I once knew, that's all."

Jenna thought carefully for a moment, trying to read the bishop. So far, his self-control was admirable. Had she finally met her match with this man of the church? Behind that stern exterior, she sensed there was a man in need of some attention. She didn't know how old Bishop George was, but at a guess he was in his sixties. He was the oldest man she had encountered so far.

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

"What do you think of St Michael's, then? You must know all kinds of churches." Jenna continued, trying to think up idle conversation.

He finished his tea. "Some churches are drawn to controversy in the same manner that flies are drawn to shite. I'm pleased to say that St Michael's has resisted that."

"Right. I see. I'm surprised you haven't cut yourself with that tongue of yours, Bishop George!"

He reclined slightly in the armchair. "I have drawn blood on several occasions. I speak my mind, Jenna. I can't stand these churches who abandon their core purpose in an attempt to woo those who have no interest in ever following the teachings of God. I'm talking about those "trendy vicars" who install helter-skelters, massive art installations and the like in ancient churches and cathedrals. A church is a place of worship, not bloody Alton Towers,”

"Oh yes. You're right," Jenna said. "I'd better make sure I keep on your good side, then!"

Bishop George gave a slight grin. "And tell me, how would you keep on my good side, Jenna?"

"I prefer to show rather than tell!" He straightened in his chair as she walked over to him. "You seem rather tense, Bishop. I think you need to relax!" Jenna chuckled and sat in his lap. Initially shocked, Bishop George soon slid his arms around her.

"There you are. Beginning to enjoy yourself?" She said, playfully running a finger around his clerical collar.

"It's been a long time since I enjoyed myself like this," he murmured, planting kisses along her neck and jawline. One of his hands slid round and inside her low-cut dress. Bishop George cupped a breast, gently squeezing it, pinching the nipple. Jenna moaned at his sensual fondling. A powerful desire deep within the bishop began to stir also. The ease at which this young woman had penetrated his unforgiving exterior, stunned him. He was pleasantly surprised at how painfully hard he quickly became, and his cock ached to be freed from his clothing. Jenna's lips met his and their kisses grew ever more hot and demanding. Her hand slid down and brushed his crotch. There was no hiding the bulge of his arousal.

"Oh Bishop!" Jenna cooed, rubbing it. He let out a moan. She unbuttoned the lower buttons of his shirt and started on his belt. Resigned to his fate, Bishop George happily reclined in the chair.

And then Jenna got a surprise as she unzipped his trousers. "Oh my. What pretty panties." She never imagined the bishop would be wearing women's underwear.

Bishop George froze, as his secret was revealed. "Damn." He'd forgotten he'd put those on. "It's a fetish," he prattled nervously. "I, I can't help it. It's a need I have."

"Hey, nothing wrong with that, Bishop." Jenna replied. "I love wearing silk ones too. But right now, I'm more interested in what's inside your panties,”

She pulled them down, wrapped her fingers around his cock and gently stroked it. For an older guy, the bishop certainly had a nice-looking cock. "Umm. How tempting!"

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

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

Jenna moved down between Bishop George's legs as he sat up slightly with a cushion behind his back. She took his cock in her hands and while she looked into his dark brown eyes, she began licking and sucking the thick shaft. On her knees so she could get the entire length in her mouth, one hand holding his balls gently. Soon her head was bobbing on the bishop's cock, the shaft wet and glistening.

Bishop George was in heaven; groaning in ecstasy as this red-haired beauty worked his member. It had been too long, and he relished every second of this sweet pleasure.

"Oh Bishop, I have to convince myself to stop licking and sucking it, and fight the impulse to have you cum in my mouth." Jenna said, as she stopped. "I want your cum in my cunt."

Without further hesitation, Bishop George rose from the chair and led her over to the dining table. He didn't even bother to push the table mats aside as he heaved her up on the oak surface, lifting up her dress and pushing her backwards. His tongue ran long, hard strokes up her inner thighs. He shoved her clothing up more, exposing her mound to him. Jenna lifted a leg over his shoulder, giving him full access. He lapped her outer lips, tasting her tantalizing wetness. What a cunt! It was as divine as he imagined.

She gasped and curled her fingers when he slipped a finger inside her folds. Whilst his bony fingers worked their magic, he sucked on the nub at the top of her sex. A low moan escaped Jenna's lips. Bishop George hurriedly cast off his jacket and pushed his trousers and panties down to his ankles. He grabbed her hips, his cock finding her waiting passage. Jenna wrapped her legs around his arse and pulled him into her.

Bishop George filled her completely. His thrusts started soft and gentle, almost loving, but then his pace quickened. He kept an intense rhythm, hammering in and out of her, with the vigor of a much younger man. Jenna screamed as she climaxed, burying her face in his shoulder. Moments later he came, filling her with his pearly cum.

Jenna sat up, feeling his jizz leak from her as he slowly pulled out. Her hand fell to his deflating member, cupping him.

"Well Bishop. I expect you to give a glowing report on St Michael's Church. And its vicar."

"You have my word," Bishop George gasped, getting his breath back.

"Excellent. I have another little gift for you. Jenna slid off the table and hurried into the kitchen. She returned and handed him her pair of red lace panties.

"I think they'll look good on you, Bishop!"

Five minutes later, the front door opened and Reverend Morris came in.

"Sorry I've been so long Jenna. I got roped into doing a charity raffle and, oh!" He froze as he noticed Bishop George sat there. "Um. George. How are you?"

Bishop George beamed broadly and rose to his feet. "Great to see you again, Simon!" He shook hands. "Your charming partner Jenna here very kindly made me a cup of tea."

Stunned by the bishop's change in demeanor, Reverend Morris didn't know what to say. "Oh? You, know about us?"

"Jenna filed me in, so to speak. I think you've handled things marvelously at St Michael's. I can see for myself how happy the two of you are together. I'm pleased that you and Lucy had an amicable split. Your face tells me you weren't expecting such a reaction?"

"Er, no, I wasn't!" Reverend Morris replied. "I, I'm glad you're alright with the situation."

"Simon. We may be men of God, but we're still human!"

Jenna Goes To Church: Part 3

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Sat, 03 Oct 2026 16:29:00 +0000

Jenna Goes To Church: Part 3

A Visit From The Bishop

A series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

And what about Christopher? His four-year old son had just started school. Now a way would have to be found to gently break the news that Mummy and Daddy would no longer be living together. How would he cope with that? Then there would be the gossips at church. Some of the older members of the congregation would tut and register their disapproval. A vicar of all people, a role model and pillar of the community, cheating on his wife with a woman twenty years his junior! Every week he preached about being a good Christian. Now he couldn't help but feel he was nothing but a hypocrite.

"Bishop George won't take kindly to this," he remarked. The man was known not to suffer fools gladly.

Hearing Lucy's car pull up on the drive, Reverend Morris took a deep breath. It was confession time. He fiddled with his thumbs as the front door opened.

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

"I dropped him off at your mum's," Lucy replied. "Simon, we need to talk. I have to tell you something really important. It can't wait."

"I, had a feeling you might say that. There's something I need to tell you too, you see I,

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

"Simon. I've not been honest with you for some time now. It's not fair, and you have every right to feel angry. I've treated you terribly these past few years, pushing you away, shutting you out. Then six months ago, it happened. This is hard for me to explain,

"Please tell me," Reverend Morris replied. "Is there, someone else?"

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

Suddenly, the reverend felt less guilty. That they'd both met other people made it more bearable. But there was still their son to think about.

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

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

Reverend Morris blinked. "She? Oh,

"Debbie Adams, you know, she teaches at the Sunday school? That's why it's been so difficult. So yeah, it's 2022, but it's still hard to be gay, and a vicar's wife. Especially in a tight-knit community like St Michael's. Many nights, I have sat and prayed to God. I asked him for courage and forgiveness. For how I have sinned."

He took her hand. "I'm happy you found the courage to be yourself. And to fall in love isn't a sin, Lucy."

"You're a wonderful man, Simon. You're being so understanding about this. I've been dreading saying anything, but I needn't have worried."

Reverend Morris awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "I would've supported you no matter what. Um, but I guess now's the right time to confess that I've been seeing someone else too."

Lucy smiled. "Oh really?"

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

"Blimey, Simon. Oh yes. I've seen her. She is really attractive, not my type, but a stunner. I can see why you fell for her."

Reverend Morris' face was turning red. "I worry about the age gap though, I mean she's twenty and I've just turned forty, that's not a good look is it? Others will disapprove."

"Simon, love is love. These others you speak of will just have to deal with it."

"Bishop George won't approve. He's planning to visit me in the next few days."

"I don't think he's the monster you make him out to be. He seems pretty liberal deep down. Didn't he once have a much younger wife?" Lucy asked.

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

"Ouch."

"Who was older than him! The priest was defrocked of course and he and Julia emigrated to the Costa del Sol, where they now run a beachfront bar called Unholy Orders,

"About Christopher," Lucy began. "We should tell him together."

Reverend Morris nodded.

Another Sunday and another morning Eucharist at St Michael's. Josh the curate was at the door, welcoming the faithful. Yulia and a group of other young woman grinned at him as they went inside. Normally, Josh would've nodded and blushed, but not anymore. Today he shook their hands, smiled back and had a little chat with them. When he noticed Jenna approaching, the curate's smile widened some more.

"Hello Jenna!"

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

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

"Naughty boy. Nice day for a church service of course! Looks like you have some female admirers over there," she said, glancing at Yulia and her friends.

There was a notable absence in the church - John Norris and his wife were nowhere to be seen. The gossip-mongering pensioners who sat in the front pew wasted no time in digesting this new information.

"Well I heard that he moved out for a few days. They had a blazing row at the Harvest Social."

"Margaret saw Patricia on the bus. Talk about having the wind taken out of your sails. She was beside herself."

"Best place for her. A poison-tongued harpy of the highest order! I feel sorry for John. He doesn't need that sort of upset. He's on beta-blockers. They've decided to have a few days in Wales, to try and patch things up."

"If my husband had been writing the sort of stuff like Patricia put on the Internet, I'd have told him to sling his hook!"

Tony had volunteered to read the first reading, which was from the Book of Revelation. He twitched and sniffed as he spoke, and got a little carried away as he went on.

"Then I saw coming from the mouth of the dragon, the mouth of the beast, and the mouth of the false prophet, three foul spirits like frogs. These spirits were devils, with power to work miracles. They were sent out to muster all the kings of the world for the great day of battle of God the sovereign Lord!"

"He'll have a stroke if he carries on like that," the old ladies whispered.

Tony continued. "This is the day when I come like a thief! Happy the man who stays awake and keeps on his clothes, so that he will not have to go naked and ashamed for all to see!"

Some small children sat at the front looked terrified.

"This is the Word of the Lord!"

Tony sat down. The second reading was a much calmer passage from Romans. Jenna smiled when Reverend Morris took to the pulpit, ready to deliver his sermon.

"Today, I'd like to talk all about love, forgiveness and honesty," he began. "I'm sure you've all heard that old saying. If you love someone, let them go. Why not hold onto them if you love them?

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

Through the fights, the struggles, and the pain, shouldn't we keep trying to keep the relationship going? The true meaning of loving someone and letting them go starts with being selfless, not selfish. There is another old saying. Honesty is the best policy. Ladies and gentlemen, I am going to be honest with you all today. My wife Lucy and I are getting divorced.

Several loud gasps arose from the congregation. Jenna glanced round, trying to remain composed. She shifted anxiously in the uncomfortable pew. Was the vicar going to mention her name?

"That's right. I know this will come as a shock to you all. You see, both of us have fallen for different people. Now, whilst we may no longer have romantic love for each other, we still care about each other. As you know, Lucy and I have a young son, Christopher, and his welfare is of paramount importance. Our split has been completely amicable. Lucy has moved out of the vicarage and we have agreed a 50/50 shared custody,

Josh looked up at the vicar in sympathetic understanding, as did Gordon. Meanwhile, some of the old ladies looked to be on the verge of nervous breakdowns. Jenna's heart was pounding.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Reverend Morris continued. "I know what some of you must be thinking. What sort of vicar preaches about the sanctity of marriage, and seven deadly sins, the shame of sin, and lo, he has sinned himself. I won't think ill of any of you. I have spoken to God and believe he has forgiven Lucy and I."

Suddenly, Tony stood up. "Good for ya, Vicar! You're a top bloke. You helped me get off the crack. So like, I'd forgive you anything, man." He started clapping. Jenna joined in, and moments later, the rest of the congregation broke out in applause.

Sat at the organ, Gordon was clapping furiously. He noticed Jenna gazing adoringly at the vicar and gave a wry smile. "I wonder who his new woman could be?" He said to himself.

Jenna made her way straight to the vicarage after the service ended, intending to prepare herself ready for Reverend Morris. She was hornier than usual, and had much to discuss with the vicar. He'd given her a key to let herself in with.

Alone in the house, Jenna removed her conservative clothing and changed into a far racier outfit - a short black dress, with lacy red panties underneath. She was just touching up her makeup, when there was a knock on the door.

"Oh he's back already," she smiled. The vicarage was only five minutes from the church. "Guess he didn't bother to go to the church hall,

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

Instead of the vicar, a stern-looking man who was the spitting image of Frollo from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame, was standing there.

"Good morning," the mystery man replied. The clerical collar, purple shirt and cross round his neck were obvious indicators that he was a church person, but Jenna had never seen him before.

"Um, can I help you, sir?"

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

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

"I'd prefer to come in and wait. I'm Bishop George. The Reverend is expecting me."

The bishop? Yikes, Jenna thought. He's the vicar's boss. I'd better behave myself. She glanced at him as he entered the lounge.

At least, I must try to behave myself,

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

Jenna was tempted to lie, but lying to a bishop felt like a great sin, so she declined. "No. I'm, a friend of the vicar."

Bishop George nodded. "Ah yes. I didn't think you were a babysitter. Seeing as Lucy and Christopher have moved out. I admire your honesty, my dear."

Jenna froze. Shit. Does he know everything? Did Reverend Morris have to confess everything to the bishop in private? Or had he been lurking somewhere in the church earlier and left before she did?

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

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

"Right, coming up, Jenna turned and bumped into the coffee table, knocking some books onto the floor.

"Clumsy me," she muttered, and bent down to pick them up, exposing her red lacy panties.

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

A few minutes later, Jenna returned with a cup of tea. "Here you are, um, Reverend? I'm sorry, I don't know how to address a bishop, I've never met a bishop before!"

"Just call me George." He replied, taking the cup. "Thanks so much. You must be Jenna, yes?"

"Yes."

"I know about you," he continued. "I spoke to Reverend Morris by phone a few weeks ago, when the Queen died. There was a notable increase in his happiness, and I could tell he was really excited about something. He was eager to tell me that there'd been an increase in people attending St Michael's. Then he mentioned you. Several times. And then I realized,

Jenna sat directly opposite him in an armchair. Her legs were crossed. "What did you realize, George?"

She uncrossed her legs.

Bishop George felt his cheeks flush. She'd removed her panties in the kitchen!

Jenna Pleases the Bishop

Bishop George twitched as a brief tantalizing glimpse of something forbidden was revealed to him.

But the panties, those glorious red lace panties! What had she done with them?

"Well, he began, a little hoarsely, "you've obviously had quite the effect on him."

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

"What do mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing." Bishop George muttered, sipping his tea. "You just reminded me of someone I once knew, that's all."

Jenna thought carefully for a moment, trying to read the bishop. So far, his self-control was admirable. Had she finally met her match with this man of the church? Behind that stern exterior, she sensed there was a man in need of some attention. She didn't know how old Bishop George was, but at a guess he was in his sixties. He was the oldest man she had encountered so far.

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

"What do you think of St Michael's, then? You must know all kinds of churches." Jenna continued, trying to think up idle conversation.

He finished his tea. "Some churches are drawn to controversy in the same manner that flies are drawn to shite. I'm pleased to say that St Michael's has resisted that."

"Right. I see. I'm surprised you haven't cut yourself with that tongue of yours, Bishop George!"

He reclined slightly in the armchair. "I have drawn blood on several occasions. I speak my mind, Jenna. I can't stand these churches who abandon their core purpose in an attempt to woo those who have no interest in ever following the teachings of God. I'm talking about those "trendy vicars" who install helter-skelters, massive art installations and the like in ancient churches and cathedrals. A church is a place of worship, not bloody Alton Towers,

"Oh yes. You're right," Jenna said. "I'd better make sure I keep on your good side, then!"

Bishop George gave a slight grin. "And tell me, how would you keep on my good side, Jenna?"

"I prefer to show rather than tell!" He straightened in his chair as she walked over to him. "You seem rather tense, Bishop. I think you need to relax!" Jenna chuckled and sat in his lap. Initially shocked, Bishop George soon slid his arms around her.

"There you are. Beginning to enjoy yourself?" She said, playfully running a finger around his clerical collar.

"It's been a long time since I enjoyed myself like this," he murmured, planting kisses along her neck and jawline. One of his hands slid round and inside her low-cut dress. Bishop George cupped a breast, gently squeezing it, pinching the nipple. Jenna moaned at his sensual fondling. A powerful desire deep within the bishop began to stir also. The ease at which this young woman had penetrated his unforgiving exterior, stunned him. He was pleasantly surprised at how painfully hard he quickly became, and his cock ached to be freed from his clothing. Jenna's lips met his and their kisses grew ever more hot and demanding. Her hand slid down and brushed his crotch. There was no hiding the bulge of his arousal.

"Oh Bishop!" Jenna cooed, rubbing it. He let out a moan. She unbuttoned the lower buttons of his shirt and started on his belt. Resigned to his fate, Bishop George happily reclined in the chair.

And then Jenna got a surprise as she unzipped his trousers. "Oh my. What pretty panties." She never imagined the bishop would be wearing women's underwear.

Bishop George froze, as his secret was revealed. "Damn." He'd forgotten he'd put those on. "It's a fetish," he prattled nervously. "I, I can't help it. It's a need I have."

"Hey, nothing wrong with that, Bishop." Jenna replied. "I love wearing silk ones too. But right now, I'm more interested in what's inside your panties,

She pulled them down, wrapped her fingers around his cock and gently stroked it. For an older guy, the bishop certainly had a nice-looking cock. "Umm. How tempting!"

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

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

Jenna moved down between Bishop George's legs as he sat up slightly with a cushion behind his back. She took his cock in her hands and while she looked into his dark brown eyes, she began licking and sucking the thick shaft. On her knees so she could get the entire length in her mouth, one hand holding his balls gently. Soon her head was bobbing on the bishop's cock, the shaft wet and glistening.

Bishop George was in heaven; groaning in ecstasy as this red-haired beauty worked his member. It had been too long, and he relished every second of this sweet pleasure.

"Oh Bishop, I have to convince myself to stop licking and sucking it, and fight the impulse to have you cum in my mouth." Jenna said, as she stopped. "I want your cum in my cunt."

Without further hesitation, Bishop George rose from the chair and led her over to the dining table. He didn't even bother to push the table mats aside as he heaved her up on the oak surface, lifting up her dress and pushing her backwards. His tongue ran long, hard strokes up her inner thighs. He shoved her clothing up more, exposing her mound to him. Jenna lifted a leg over his shoulder, giving him full access. He lapped her outer lips, tasting her tantalizing wetness. What a cunt! It was as divine as he imagined.

She gasped and curled her fingers when he slipped a finger inside her folds. Whilst his bony fingers worked their magic, he sucked on the nub at the top of her sex. A low moan escaped Jenna's lips. Bishop G

Jenna Goes To Church: Part 2

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Fri, 02 Oct 2026 16:28:00 +0000

Jenna Goes To Church: Part 2

The Curate loses his virginity.

A series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Jenna had made an effort and brought along a bag of apples. She placed the bag on the side table in the church hall.

"I don't know how a brazen hussy like you has the cheek to set foot in a church."

Jenna remained calm, as she turned to face Mrs. Norris. "Well I'm a Christian, the same as you."

"Huh! Christian my foot. I saw what you and the organist were getting up to and I think it's disgusting! In the church of all places! And he's old enough to be your father!"

"Well if you clutch those pearls of yours any tighter they'll crumble to dust. And Gordon and I happen to be consenting adults. Single consenting adults. So there."

"Why you, you, .horrid little slag!" Mrs. Norris fumed, lip quivering. She stormed off.

Jenna exhaled and rolled her eyes.

"Coffee or tea?" a friendlier voice asked. It was Debbie, the Sunday school teacher, who was volunteering to do today's hot drinks rota in the hall.

"Tea please," Jenna replied.

"You ok?"

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

"Don't let that old bag get to you. She's a nasty one. She's horribly ageist. Not to mention xenophobic too. I overheard her mocking Yulia's English skills last week. I can't stand her. Her husband's not that bad, he's a tedious fusspot, but there's no malice in him. But her, she's poison."

"I heard her hubby spreads gossip on Facebook." Jenna said.

"More likely that's her doing." Debbie replied. "I'd be surprised if John Norris even knows how to switch on a laptop."

A brief chill ran through Jenna. What if Mrs. Norris were to post some bile about her online? "I don't use social media anymore," she said. "Briefly poked my nose into Twitter as a teen, but didn't like the pile-ons."

"Wise. I'm on Facebook, but only to keep up with church stuff. I never post anything about my private life. I imagine Mrs. Norris would have a stroke if she knew I was dating a woman. A married woman at that. Keep it to yourself. I'm not ready to come out yet."

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

Jenna sipped her tea quietly as she observed the other members of the congregation file into the hall. She was hoping Reverend Morris would soon arrive, but after fifteen minutes, there was still no sign of him. Then there was Gordon; he never came into the hall after a service, and he'd sent her that amusing text message on Friday, about Charles Wesley and his "bulging hymn book."

She headed out of the hall, in search of Gordon, when Josh the curate came staggering in, carrying a massive pile of hymn books. He almost collided with Jenna and dropped a couple of books.

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

Jenna bent down and picked up the books. "You're loaded up like a pack horse. Let me give you a hand. Where are you taking all these?"

"Um. So kind!" His pale cheeks went pink. "The storeroom at the far end of the hall. These are spare hymn books."

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

"Oh, he and the organist are in a meeting. One of the organ pipes has just been repaired."

"Damn," Jenna muttered under her breath. "Oh dear. How sad. I guess he'll miss his tea and biscuits."

She followed Josh down to the storeroom. She'd never paid much attention to the curate before, but looking at him now, she realized that he was rather cute. Mid-twenties, tall and stocky with fair hair and a chubby face. There was an endearing innocence about him. Reverend Morris had said he was hoping to complete his ordination next year and become a fully-fledged vicar. He'd been impressed by his devotion to the church - but he needed to come out of his shell a bit and interact more with worshippers. Josh was a shy man and lacking in self-confidence. Remembering this information made Jenna smile.

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

The storeroom was vast, and crammed from floor to ceiling with box files, books, old furniture and plastic crates.

"Holy sh,, I didn't know this room existed. And what a lot of stuff for one small church!" Jenna exclaimed.

"Heh, yeah." Josh said, putting the books down. "It's not just for St Michael's. We share it with St John's and the Methodist church on Oakwood Road."

Jenna began putting the books on the shelf.

"Um you don't need to do that,

"Jenna."

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

"Oh I don't mind. Why should you have to do all the donkey work? This room is a tip. Besides, a good Christian should help others, right? Especially the vicar's right-hand man. That's what a curate is, yes?"

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

"Have you always wanted to be a curate?"

Josh sat down on a stool. "In truth, no way. I wasn't religious at all when I was a kid. I suffered from crippling shyness. I used to dread being asked to read in front of the class. When I was ten, my dad walked out, and that affected me a lot. Haven't seen him since. Mum turned to drink, I relied on my grandad for support. He became a father figure to me. He used to be a vicar. Thanks to him I survived my teens and passed my exams. I was eighteen when he died. That's when I decided I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Without him - and God, I fear, well I may have gone down a dark path. Got in with a bad crowd. Taken drugs, self-harmed, maybe ended up in jail."

"Wow." Jenna replied, realizing how cosseted and safe her upbringing had been. "Well I'm so glad your grandad was there for you."

"There are still days when I doubt myself and I'm in a bad place. I feel useless."

"Don't put yourself down," Jenna said, walking towards him. "You're an amazing role model, especially for younger people."

Josh blinked. "You, think so?"

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

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

"Women round here must be blind," Jenna added, making him squirm with embarrassment. She leant forward and planted a kiss on his lips. He trembled, cheeks turning redder.

"J-Jenna, don't,

"It's alright Josh. You're not committing a sin or anything. We're not inside the church, if that's you're worried about."

"N-no, it's not that. I, um, The curate sighed. "I, I'm just scared of, I don't know if I can, do this."

She already knew he was single and straight, but decided to question him. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, but, um, that's the problem really. I'd like one, but I wouldn't know how to tell her,

Jenna stroked his arm. "Tell her what?"

"I worry she'd laugh at me."

"Josh. Whatever it is, I promise I would never laugh at you. And I will understand."

He looked down. "Shit. I'm twenty-five. And I'm still a virgin! I've never gone beyond kissing a girl."

She kissed his cheek again. "Oh Josh. That's nothing to feel awkward about. In fact I admire you. In this age when we're bombarded with over-sexualized imagery 24/7 both online and offline, finding someone who's chosen to wait is pretty awesome in my opinion. I lost mine just days after reaching the age of consent. I couldn't wait to lose it. But that's just me,

"Yeah but, I, um,

She pulled him to his feet and gently coaxed the truth out of him. "You want to lose your virginity, yes?"

"More than anything. But, dating today is scary. It's a minefield. Especially after Me Too. I'm afraid. I don't want to say the wrong thing and come across as some horny creep,

Jenna held back a chuckle. Mrs. Norris probably thinks of me as a horny creep. She thought.

"I get that. But trust me. I don't think a sweet, kind-hearted man of God like you could ever be a creep. Horny yes, nothing wrong with that of course." She winked at him and he gulped. "How about it? I think you're ready right now."

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

"Why not? It's nice and private, And you're a really sexy curate!" Her face was just inches from his own, hovering there. Then her lips were on his, dancing there softly for a moment before pulling away.

"Jenna, He was already rock hard, and hoped his cassock had disguised this fact.

"Shush. You're very special." She whispered, barely audible. "You're warm, caring, You're strong. You deserve to be experience the joys of the flesh." She kissed him again. It's okay to feel nervous. First time is always a bit nerve-racking. But just relax. You'll be just fine,

What an adorable lamb to the slaughter, Jenna thought to herself. He's so scared and unsure. I've never seduced a virgin before, so I'd better not go too hard on him. I do love a challenge. With a bit of encouragement, this sweet guy could have real potential.

The touch of her lips sent a fire through his body, a jolt that brought a tingle to every micron of his skin. "Oh, Jenna!"

"Shhh." Her lips caressed his own, then his nose, his ear. "Don't talk just now, okay?"

"Mmm?"

She kissed him again, gently caressing his upper lip between her own. At last, he responded.

"Josh." Jenna smiled cheekily. "You're a pretty good kisser, you know that?"

"Really?"

Just relax. I'm not going anywhere, there's no rush. All we have to do is discover each other. There's no hurry. No-one's going to come in here. I imagine the vicar will be busy for ages."

Jenna ran her hand down the front of his black cassock. "Oh my, you're more than ready. "Let's get these buttons unfastened." She knelt before him, opening the cassock and revealing the black trousers underneath. And another straining crotch bulge.

"I'm going to worship you," she whispered, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. Josh was wearing plain black briefs underneath. It was fun seeing the different types of undies men wore. First there was Reverend Morris with his "holy boxers," then Gordon and his sensible white y-fronts, now Josh with smart black tight-fitting briefs.

"Everything will be fine. I promise. Close your eyes if it makes you feel better, okay?"

The curate hesitated still, but Jenna's smile was reassuring and gentle. "I promise you'll like it." With a shudder, Josh squeezed his eyes tight as his trousers and underwear were lowered, and he could feel the cool air of the room, then Jenna's warm breath on his manhood.

"There we are."

He couldn't resist a peek, through half-closed eyes. He was painfully stiff, of course, harder than he'd ever been in his life, but he didn't need his eyes to tell him that. He shivered as Jenna ran her hand through his pubes and stooped to kiss him there. He gasped as her smooth palm encircled him.

"Oh my God!"

"Mmm. So beautiful. Truly God's gift to women. Just relax, don't fight the feeling. Isn't it nice?" Jenna kissed the very tip of his member, and he gasped and moaned, his muscles tensing. "Don't fight it now Josh, just let the feelings come. Relax and let it take you. You don't have to hold it back, just let it come." With that, she closed her lips around his head, tasted him with her tongue.

"Uh! Oh Jesus!" The curate groaned. The crescendo was boiling in him now, wonderful and frightening and exhilarating. Nothing could have prepared him for the warm embrace of a woman's mouth, the slight roughness of her tongue as she rolled it up and down his length. No porn, no fantasy could have approached the sensation of her lips gently drawing on his cock, coaxing him towards a peak of indescribable pleasure. The fire was in him and around him, consuming him and his thoughts until all that he was became the connection with her, his flesh and her mouth. Her hands cradled his cock gently as he built towards climax, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow.

"Oh,

"Let it come."

Josh sighed deeply in relief as Jenna enveloped him again, shuddered as he felt himself swell between her lips, as he released himself to her, surrendered to her, spurting his cum. She lingered over his manhood, slowly coaxing him down from the heights of his ecstasy. She gently licked his shaft and kissed a drop of his essence from the tip, and smiled up at him.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" She said, standing up. "Did you enjoy your first blowjob?"

"Jenna. Fucking hell!"

"I'll take that as a yes?"

"Yes!" he gasped.

"Oh good. Because we're not done yet. You don't get off that easily you know!" Jenna began unfastening her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Josh's eyes widened. She wasn't wearing any panties.

An old, battered table was in the middle of the storeroom. Jenna cleared it and reclined on it, spreading her legs and unfastening her blouse. No bra!

"Your turn."

Josh crossed himself.

"Just trust your instincts." She whispered, lowering herself onto her back. Josh stared at her for a second, dumbstruck by her beauty and timid as a deer. Her gently smiling face and the flowing red hair that framed it, the round fullness of her breasts, her long legs, and the tantalizing lure of her wet womanhood between,

Finding his courage at last, Josh moved close. With a shaky hand he reached out and tentatively cupped her left breast. Tracing the nipple with his thumb, ever so gently.

"Mmm nice, Josh. Keep going!"

Encouraged, Josh lowered his mouth to her other breast, the memory of the delightful sensations she'd given him earlier fresh in his mind. He felt her run her fingers through his short blonde hair as he tasted her with his tongue, heard her sigh as he closed his lips around her nipple.

"Gently now."

"Sorry!"

The curate feasted on her breasts for a bit longer, before moving down to her abdomen, planting more kisses, then he paused for a moment. Jenna said nothing, silently urging him to carry on, and he did. Tentatively, he kissed the inside of her thighs, tracing a finger through the trimmed hair above her slit.

Josh continued to lovingly kiss her thighs, his nerves beginning to fade. The heady scent of her was overpowering, emboldening him to trail a finger between her cunt lips. The wetness he felt there surprised him, and he glanced up.

"You're doing great, Josh." Jenna answered in a throaty whisper. "Please don't stop."

He ran a finger over her clit, causing her to let out a moan. Lowering his head, he caressed her softly with his mouth, tasting her.

"Oh Josh, He suckled gently on her clit and she let out a scream.

"Jenna?" He pulled away from her, his fear returning. "Did I hurt you?"

"No Josh. It was incredible, that's all. When you licked me down there, wow. You sure know how to thrill a woman. You learn quick! But don't make me cum just yet. Because I want you inside me when it happens."

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

"Are you ready?"

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

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

"Oh, right. Good,

"Think of this as doing God's work," Jenna purred, urging him to get on with it. She was eager to feel that virgin cock inside her.

Slowly he positioned himself above her on the creaking table. Jenna took his cock in her hand, guiding him. He felt the head of his organ nestle inside her.

"Lord in Heaven!" It was such exquisite torture, fighting the urge to cum as fast as he could. The feel of her cunt as it sheathed him was beyond even the joys he'd felt already.

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

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

Jenna slowly relaxed her control, allowing him to work his cock in and out of her more forcefully. He thrust in deep, as far as he could, and gasped, savoring the sensation.

"Oh Josh, that's so good!"

He speeded up, as she wrapped her legs round him. Soon he was pounding her like a pro.

"Jenna!" He could feel his climax coming now, a mighty force of almost Biblical proportions. Just as Jesus drove out many devils, Josh drove out his virginity, casting it aside forever. He'd been freed.

"Ugh!" With a roar of release the curate came, filling Jenna's womanhood with his seed. Josh wasn't sure how long his orgasm lasted. But he knew that it was wonderful, an epiphany of sensation, and that Jenna writhed and gasped in the throes of her own climax in perfect harmony with his.

When they'd both calmed down, Jenna held him close and kissed him. "Are you okay? You were amazing, Josh, do you know that? How are you feeling?"

"Just fantastic, absolutely fantastic! I, wow. That was, incredible. Um, do you mind if I say a quick prayer for both of us?"

"Not at all. You go ahead."

When he'd finished, he opened his eyes and looked at Jenna, who was smiling broadly. "You are going to become a bloody amazing vicar!" She said.

An Erotic Dream & an organ lesson.

T'was the Year of Our Lord 1739, and on a road bound for London, weary preacher and hymn writer Charles Wesley had just arrived at a tavern.

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

Jenna Goes To Church: Part 1

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 16:26:00 +0000

Jenna Goes To Church: Part 1

Jenna enjoys sexuality without shame, in the church.

A series in 17 parts, By Blacksheep. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Jenna seduces the Vicar.

St Michael's parish church was a charming place of worship that dated back to the 12th century. A quaint little church, the sort that one could see in countless towns and villages across England. Within its walls however, all was not well. Ill-feeling festered among some of the male members of the church, the vicar included. But God, in his great mercy and wisdom, saw fit to send a beautiful angel to this church, in order to bring happiness.

And so, our story begins,

Reverend Simon Morris was a vicar who hadn't gotten laid in a long time. Aged forty, he'd been at St Michael's for nearly three years now. He prided himself on the success he'd had in increasing the congregation of this little church. The previous vicar, Reverend Smith, had died very suddenly from a stroke back in 2019, leaving the community devastated. Reverend Morris knew he had big boots to fill. So far, God had been with him all the way. He'd steered the church through the Covid pandemic and defied orders to close it during the lockdowns. This action had earned him a lot of respect, not to mention he'd gained a few more loyal sheep who'd deserted other churches.

There was just one area where God had been unable to help him - his sexless marriage. He'd been married to Lucy for nearly ten years now and they had a four year old son, Christopher. Unfortunately, it was shortly after Christopher's birth that the avenue of carnal pleasure was closed off to him. He'd tried everything to re-ignite the spark, but nothing worked. Now Christopher had started primary school, Reverend Morris had hoped that things would improve, but instead, he and Lucy drifted further apart. He kept up the appearance that everything was perfect, during the many social functions he had to hold at the vicarage. Inside however, his frustration threatened to overwhelm him.

"O Lord God, who hast called thy servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown: Give us faith to go out with a good courage, not knowing whither we go, but only that thy hand is leading us, and thy love supporting us; to the glory of thy Name.

Amen."

Reverend Morris said a quick prayer to himself as he shook hands with the last of the members of the congregation. He let out a sigh of relief. Another Sunday service had passed - with an increase in numbers. He looked at his watch. He had a brief few minutes to head to the vestry, change out of his cassock and surplice, and pop over to the church hall for tea and biscuits. The usual chit chat with his faithful flock.

The nosey old ladies, Josh, the new and nervous curate, Yulia the Ukrainian refugee and her two young children, Amir and Majid, the Iranian brothers who'd fled persecution in their homeland due to being Christians, Debbie the single mother and Sunday school teacher, Tony the reformed drug addict, Mr. and Mrs. Norris, the church's resident do-gooders; a pair of boomers who made it their business to know more about the C of E than the Archbishop of Canterbury,

Then there was Jenna Fox. Twenty, red haired and absolutely stunning. And too young for him.

He'd spotted her in the congregation earlier, but not on the way out. Which could only mean,

"Good morning Reverend!" Jenna said, bold as brass, sauntering out of the toilets, where she'd obviously been waiting for the others to depart.

"Oh, good morning Jenna," Reverend Morris replied, staring at her and then quickly averting his eyes downwards. She was wearing attire that was barely suitable for church - a low cut black top and black pleated miniskirt.

"I wore black today. For the Queen. Loved your sermon reflecting on her long reign. It was really touching."

"Thanks. Glad you liked it. It's been hard to write. So, are you heading over to the church hall? I'll be there shortly."

"Mmm, maybe later," she grinned. "Did you know Reverend, that you actually resemble Prince Edward a bit?"

Feeling a little uncomfortable at how close she was, he felt color rise in his cheeks. "Uh, well thanks. I'll take that as a compliment! Do excuse me Jenna, I just have to ditch these vestments, then I shall be going to the hall."

He hurried off to the vestry. In there, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was an average-looking bloke, not the sort that a stunning younger woman would lust after.

"Well at least I'm much younger than Prince Edward." He smiled. Suddenly, the door opened.

"You're not getting away from me this time Reverend," Jenna whispered, shutting the door behind her.

Before he could say anything, she'd cornered him. Glancing into his pale blue eyes for a moment, she covered his lips with hers, feeling him tense up as her arms reached round his back. After a few seconds, he relaxed, as if he knew resistance of any kind was futile. Jenna could feel the heat of his body through his cassock.

"I've wanted you for a long time Reverend," she murmured. "Ever since you taught me that Introduction to Christianity course six months ago."

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

"Not a very happy one, I suspect. I can always tell." A shuddering sigh escaped him as her lips brushed his again. Jenna broke the kiss. "Is there any space in here to conduct unholy activities, Reverend?"

Powerless to resist this angel of sin, the smitten vicar grabbed her slim hips and motioned her to straddle his lap. "Jenna," he mumbled, rubbing one thumb over the outline of her hardened bra-less nipple through her thin top. "It's, er, been a long time since I was in a situation like this."

"Your wife,

"Lucy and I have been leading separate, and sexless lives for years."

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

He leaned in to kiss the exposed skin of Jenna's neck; his lips leaving a hot trail from just below her ear to the center of her throat at the neck of her black top. Then he took the lower hem of the top and pushed it up to bare her belly, and then her pert C-cup breasts. Leaning her back, he took one nipple with his lips and she gasped. He was not only willing, but rampant; as Jenna had suspected, it had been a long time since this man had got laid.

Even with the cassock and surplice on, there was no disguising the Reverend's raging erection. Jenna explored eagerly, desperately, reaching under the cassock, feeling his hard erection through his trousers.

Lord Jesus, Jenna was trembling so much with excitement. She'd had a clergy fetish for years and fantasized about seducing the vicar for such a long time. Reverend Morris returned his attention to her breasts and she was so wet she could almost feel herself dripping into her panties.

Without further ado, she unfastened his belt before reaching for his zipper. Reverend Morris attempted to remove his surplice.

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

"As you wish." He mumbled holding up his cassock, almost unable to comprehend what was about to happen.

Jenna knelt in front of the vicar, pulled down the zipper of his trousers, and exposed white boxer shorts - adorned with little Christian crosses.

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

He blushed. "Um, a church event I attended in London. The gift shop was quite varied,

"Umm." Jenna pulled down his trousers and boxers, freeing his heated cock.

"Ah. The staff of life."

She took his hot length in her hand, feeling it, and stroked it up and down as she licked and sucked at the tip.

"Oh dear God," Reverend Morris groaned.

As she groped his shaft, she realized just how wet with pre-cum it was.

"Ooh, Reverend you certainly have sinned," Jenna smiled. "Nice and wet - just how I like it." She teasingly licked the head of his cock before putting it in her mouth. She began to suck him off furiously, her head bobbing up and down faster and faster, her tongue licking the sensitive underside of his shaft.

"Oh, I am blessed!" He gasped.

Jenna licked every inch of his love pole, running her tongue cross every vein, igniting every nerve ending. The vicar cried out in joy. Then she withdrew and looked up at him.

In her throatiest, most sexy tone, she said, "Well Reverend, are you just going to stand there, or come and tame your lost sheep?"

Like a bolt of lightning, Reverend Morris kissed Jenna's lips as if they were the sweet fruit of Eden, and lifted her up. He pulled her drenched lacy panties off. It had been too damn long since he'd had pleasure so willingly offered to him like this. He parted her legs quickly, and, with no further warning, plunged his holy rod deep into her waiting cunt. He began to establish a fast-paced rhythm which soon had them both moaning in pleasure.

"Ah hah!" Jenna gasped. "Oh, Reverend. Yes! Right there. Deeper. Deeper! God that feels amazing! Oh! Ah! Oh, Yes!"

Jenna was in a state of complete euphoria. She had dreamt about what it would feel like to be fucked by a vicar, but never in her wildest dreams did she ever think it would be this incredible. He was a skillful lover, hitting the sensitive nerves within her tunnel, bringing her ever closer to that heavenly pinnacle.

Reverend Morris began to quicken his thrusts and rammed his hard staff deeper into her yearning vagina. He felt his climax coming; it was an uncontrollable wave of ecstasy. Faster and faster he thrust, the sound of colliding skin echoing throughout the vestry. Jenna kept on riding the vicar until he blasted his cum into her like a fire hose.

"Ah! Praise the Lord!"

Jenna looked at Reverend Morris, and for the first time in years, he looked truly satisfied.

"For what I hath received, I am truly thankful," he panted.

"Me too," Jenna replied, her insides filled with his thick cum.

In the afterglow of their sinful fun, they kissed each other softly, caressing one another lovingly. Reverend Morris couldn't stop smiling. So that was what he'd been missing out on. Dear God! He doubted that Lucy could ever match Jenna's standards, even if she suddenly turned into a raving nympho.

"I suppose, we should head over to the church hall," Jenna said, idly fingering his clerical collar. "More tea Vicar?"

Jenna Plays the Organist s Organ

Gordon Leesmith was not having a good day. Another Sunday, another morning Eucharist at St. Michael's, where he dutifully played the organ and directed the choir. It had all gone as planned, until the end of the service when that damned busybody John Norris had felt the need to vent his spleen.

"You played the wrong opening hymn, Gordon," John exclaimed, as the congregation departed. "Great is Thy Faithfulness was selected, not Love Divine."

"That's not what the vicar told me," Gordon muttered, not looking at him. He loathed this odious pedant.

"Anyways I just thought I'd let you know. Patricia and I were a little confused."

"No change there then," Gordon replied, unable to restrain himself. "Do you think maybe just for once you and wife might refrain from poking your noses into every bloody thing?"

John was so taken aback, he couldn't speak for a moment. "Well really! There's no need for language, Gordon. I was merely saying,

"Don't come the innocent with me, you're the biggest shit-stirrer in this church. I've seen the gossip you spread on Facebook. And I'll play whatever bloody hymn I like, thank you very much."

"I wouldn't argue in a church."

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

Thus suitably chastised, the subdued John left, and Gordon was left to sort through his music sheets in peace. He adjusted his black robe and continued grumbling to himself. He wasn't always as grumpy and short-tempered as this. Years ago he'd been a jolly, fun-loving chap who enjoyed joking with other members of the church.

That was before his divorce.

Gordon was fifty-five, and had been organist and choirmaster at St Michael's for almost twenty years. Ten years ago, his wife Marjorie had run off with a man young enough to be her son. She was fifty and her lover was a twenty-five year old personal trainer. They'd met online. Gordon's world had been knocked for six. He never imagined Marjorie would cheat on him. They'd always been so happy, with a very active sex life.

Jenna had been quietly observing the little outburst with much interest. After expressing an interest in joining the choir, Reverend Morris had warned her that the organist had the "shortest of short fuses." When she'd pressed him further, the vicar had revealed the details of Gordon's marital problems and sworn her to secrecy.

Jenna licked her lips. She was aching for a romp with Reverend Morris right now, but he'd been asked to conduct a service at another local church this morning, and a female vicar had stood in for him. What was a horny lass to do?

"Poor, miserable Gordon." Jenna mused. "I doubt he gets much action. He needs cheering up." Looking at him, she thought him quite good looking for an older man. He had a full head of silvery hair and unlike Reverend Morris, was of a stocky build. On the occasions she'd seen him minus his long black robe, he possessed quite a paunch. Jenna idly toyed with a strand of her hair, considering her next move. Gordon was giving off daddy kink vibes.

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

Gordon was busy rifling through hymn books and didn't notice Jenna saunter over at first. She cleared her throat and he glanced round.

"Uh. Can I help you with something?"

"Oh hello," Jenna replied, acting rather coy. "I, hope I haven't caught you at a bad time, Mr,

"Gordon. Bad time? There's never a good time," he muttered, giving the usual gruff response. "Nothing personal."

"Well I just wanted to thank you, Gordon. You played my favorite hymn, Love Divine. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it."

His attention captured, Gordon finally put down the books he was fiddling with and sat on the organ stool, facing her. "You did?"

"I love anything by Charles Wesley. His hymns are amazing."

"Indeed they are. He wrote thousands during his lifetime."

Gordon certainly was hard to read. Jenna wondered if she was having any effect on him at all. His dour expression didn't give anything away. It looked like this chap was going to be quite a challenge.

"Every week I come to church and I hear you play these lovely old hymns on this fine organ." Jenna continued. "I love hearing you play."

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

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

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

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

Her persistence seemed to be paying off, and the organist appeared to be getting a little flustered at her flattery.

"Jenna."

"Do you play any musical instruments, Jenna?" Gordon replied.

"Just the piano."

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

"Oh purely as a hobby," she smiled, flicking her red hair. "I was wondering, please could you play a bit of Charles Wesley for me?"

Gordon's stern face finally relaxed into a smile. "Why certainly. What would you like to hear?"

"Oh how about And Can It Be?"

He shuffled around on the stool. "Very well. I often practice a bit after the morning service, when the others have left. I'm not one for idle chatter in the church hall."

"Me neither," Jenna said, walking up to beside him, so close that her cleavage was at his eye level. Gordon couldn't help but give a side glance, and then quickly looked ahead.

"Right, are you ready?"

The strains of the great Wesleyan hymn filled the church as Gordon's fingers graced the mighty organ. Jenna hummed along, and then an idea came into her head. Suddenly, Gordon stopped playing.

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

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

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

Jenna deftly unfastened the first button on her white top.

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

Gordon happened to glance to his right again, and almost played a wrong note. Jenna continued singing.

"Amazing love! How can it be, That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?"

She unfastened another button. Gordon continued playing, and as the chorus approached, the third and final button of her top was swiftly unfastened.

"Amazing love! How can it be, That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?"

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

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

He continued to play, but could feel his face burning. Jenna was singing her heart out, and seemed to be blissfully unaware that she'd suffered a wardrobe malfunction, she wasn't wearing a bra! Bloody hell, what a beautiful pair of tits, Gordon was uncomfortably hot all at once. He was no stranger to internet porn - after his divorce, porn was the only thing he could turn to in order to get a bit of relief, not that it really relieved him all that much, in fact it didn't turn him on at all anymore, he'd become impotent. Suddenly, with the young and beautiful Jenna inches away from him and, somewhat exposed, his dormant cock had surged back into life and was now straining against his underpants and trousers,

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

He continued playing and she resumed singing, her pale, pert breasts jiggling, inches from his face.

"Oh dear God," Gordon thought to himself. What a situation to find oneself in. "Should I say something to her?

It Took Cupid’s Army

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Thu, 01 Oct 2026 00:52:00 +0000

It Took Cupid’s Army

Can I woo the girl who knows my embarrassing childhood?

Based on a post by Mac G. Listen to the ► podcast at Connected.

Even though it is right in front of you, you don't always see what's good for you. Sometimes you need a little nudge. This is about a couple of mine.

When I was five, Jenny's family moved in directly across the street from us. Our families became good friends right away. Due to the fact that there was nobody else our age living nearby (Jenny is three months older than I am), we soon became inseparable.

She had no trouble keeping up with me in the rough and tumble things I wanted to do, and I had no problems playing house with her when she wanted. One of our parents always had to shoo us home at night because we would never think about it ourselves. I once tried to get my parents to let Jenny spend the night, but they said it was not right for girls to spend the night with boys.

Although I missed it at the time, the first indication that Jenny and I would end up together came when we were fourteen. I was over at her house watching TV with her and her dad. As we sat there, the doorbell rang. Jenny got up to answer it. She came back a moment later followed by a policeman.

"Mr. Adams," he said, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Jenny's dad got up to stand next to her. I stood a few feet behind them.

"I'm really sorry to say that there has been an accident. A drunk ran a red light and hit your wife's car," the policeman stated.

"What! When? Where? How is she?" Mr. Adams asked.

"The paramedics did their best, but I'm afraid she didn't make it. I am truly sorry."

At this point, Jenny turned around and looked at me, tears pouring from her eyes. She ran to me, buried her head in my shoulder and sobbed. I guided her to the couch and sat her down. Holding her gently, I let her cry herself out, trying to soothe her as best as I could.

After about fifteen minutes, Mr. Adams finished up with the policeman and came over to sit next to us. Jenny had calmed down a little and was just crying lightly. He took Jenny in his arms and held her. I got up and called my parents telling them what had happened. They both came right over.

After a lot of consoling and grief, Dad left with Mr. Adams to tend to the body while Mom stayed with Jenny and I. Mom told me later how proud she was of me and for handling the situation and comforting Jenny so well. Years later, Mr. Adams said he'd kill me if I told Jenny, but that it hurt a little when Jenny turned to me, instead of him, for comfort upon hearing the news about her mom.

The First Nudge

I have always thought differently about Jenny than anyone else. Even during those awkward adolescent times all boys go through in which girls are gross and have cooties, I never felt that way about Jenny. It was like my mind thought, 'That's not a girl, that's Jenny'. The trouble was that as I grew into a teenager and began to notice girls, it was the same thing; I didn't realize just how beautiful Jenny was becoming.

Ironically, it was on a date with someone else in the summer between our Junior and Senior years that her beauty was pointed out to me. We had been having a great time: Dinner, movie, and ice cream afterwards. It was close to time to take my date home.

"Anne, can I ask you a question?" I asked.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Well, when I asked you out, you seemed a little surprised. Pleased, but surprised. I got the same response from Sarah Jansen last month, and I was wondering if it was true you were surprised, and if so, why?"

Anne smiled and hesitated a moment before answering.

"Yes, it's true I was a little surprised and I'm sure Sarah was as well. The reason is we keep expecting you two knuckleheads to wake up and see what a good thing you've got."

"Knuckleheads? What two knuckleheads?" I asked.

"Okay, it looks like it's up to me to straighten you out, although I really shouldn't," she sighed. "I'm going to do this in a roundabout way. I'm going to ask you a bunch of questions. Some of them may seem silly, and some might be embarrassing, but I need you to trust me and answer them all honestly."

"Okay, I'll try."

"Good. Now first question: Do you think I'm pretty?"

"Of course I do. Most guys in school do."

"Thank you," she said, blushing a little, "Now, I know all guys have different ideas about the ideal woman, but am I your ideal? Be honest."

"No, you're not." I said a little chagrinned.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I asked for honesty. I'm somebody's ideal and I'll find them one day. Let's concentrate on your ideal woman. I'll say an attribute and you tell me what you like. You okay with this?"

"I guess."

"Ok, height?"

"Your height, perhaps a little taller."

"Hair?"

"Red, long and straight."

"Longer than my shoulder length?" Anne asked.

"Yes."

"Eyes?"

"Green."

"Mouth?"

"Don't know. Never thought about that."

"Not a problem. Now, don't get embarrassed, but look at my tits."

I couldn't help it, I turned crimson, but I looked briefly. She had very nice tits.

"That's what I like about you, Tony; even with permission you don't ogle at a girl's chest. Most guys would be glued there right now. Ok, what would you change?"

"Nothing, I really like your tits," I said, turning even redder, if that were possible.

"Thanks, so do I. There's definitely something there to attract attention, but not too much. What about the butt? Do you like big butts?"

"Not really."

"What about legs?"

"Long, with a good muscle structure."

"Great. Now, here is what you just told me is your ideal woman; 5'9" or 5'10" tall, long, straight red hair, green eyes, an athletic build, long muscular legs leading up to a nice tight butt. Is that an accurate description?"

"Yes, that would be correct."

"And you still don't see it do you?"

"I guess not. See what?"

"You just perfectly described Jenny Adams."

I sat there for a moment. She was right of course, but I had never made the connection.

"Did you know that most guys think Jenny is the best looking girl in school? Many also think you are an idiot for not dating her. You've been best friends for so long you two cannot see it any other way. You should start looking at Jenny as the beautiful woman she is. With the great friendship you've already built, you two would make a perfect couple. Think about it, you dope," Anne ordered with a grin.

"I will, I promise," I said. "Now, I'd better get you home before your dad sends out the posse."

I drove her home in silence. When I walked her to the door, I said, "Thanks a lot for telling me that, Anne. I guess it's true it's sometimes hard to see what is right in front of your nose."

"You're welcome. I'm sure you two will be very happy together. Now, I don't usually do this on a first date, but as I'm pretty sure I've just ensured there won't be a second one, kiss me good night."

"Gladly."

I leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss. She was having none of that. Throwing her arms around my neck she pulled me in for a nice, hard kiss. It seemed to last forever, breaking only when we ran out of air.

"Thanks, that's just what I wanted," she said smiling. "Now, go get her, Tiger!" With that, she turned and went inside.

It's a good thing the route home was so familiar, as I was not paying too much attention to where I was going; I was thinking about Jenny. She was beautiful. She was also a great person. She was funny and fun to be around; kind to everyone; caring with genuine compassion; helpful whenever you needed her. She had so many wonderful qualities that it's hard to think of them all.

Two days later, Jenny was over at my house watching TV. As the movie ended, she turned to me, saying, "Okay, Tony, what's up? You've been quiet all day and you've been giving me some funny looks."

I hesitated before answering, unsure as to how to answer. I was really nervous about how this would go. I took a deep breath.

"Jenny, will you go out with me on Friday?" I asked her.

"Sure, we can get together and..."

"No, please, that's not what I mean. I don't want to just get together; I want to go on a date, a real date."

She looked at me with her eyebrows raised. I could see the wonder in her eyes.

"Look, Jenny, I know we've been friends for a long time, you've always been my best friend, but lately I've been seeing you in a different light. I've always known you were pretty, but I'm starting to see just how beautiful you really are. I've always known you were a girl, but now I'm seeing you as a woman. We're friends but I'd like to see if maybe we could be more."

She sat there, deep in thought. I waited for her to decide.

After several minutes I added, "I know this is sudden. You don't have to answer now if you want to think about it for a while. Don't be afraid to say no. Nothing will change if you say no."

She smiled at me and said, "I don't need to wait. Of course I'll go on a date with you. I just wasn't expecting it. What brought this about?"

"I'll tell you, I promise, but not right now. What time do you want to start?"

"Um, I'll let you know."

"Fine. Want a Coke?"

"Sure."

I went a got one for each of us. We watched some more TV, neither one of us talking much. When she left to go home, she paused at the door and gave me a long look, smiling slightly.

The rest of the week seemed to last forever. Jenny must have said something to her dad, and he spoke to my parents, because on Wednesday evening Mom came into my room, announcing, "Let me know what you plan on wearing for your big date Friday, and I'll make sure it's clean and nicely pressed."

"Okay, Mom, thanks. I'm not sure...wait, how did you know about Friday?"

"Moms just know," she said, grinning. "If there's anything else I can do for you, let me know."

When Friday came, I had still not told her what I wanted to wear, having changed my mind several times. I went out in the afternoon to get a haircut. When I got back home, there was a brand new outfit laying on my bed waiting. It was perfect. As I was getting ready, my dad came in my room.

"Here, try some of this," he said, handing me a bottle of cologne. "It's a very popular scent."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Also, a good date needs a good ride. Take my car tonight."

I was stunned. Dad rarely let's anyone drive his car. He had saved for years to afford it. "Are you sure?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. I got it cleaned up nicely today and it's got a full tank of gas. Enjoy yourself."

"Wow, thanks, Dad! You're awesome."

When the time came, I walked across to her house and knocked. Mr. Adams answered.

"Come on in Tony, she'll be right down. Where are you going tonight?" he asked.

"I made a reservation at that new Italian place south of the mall. After that, we'll just see. Probably a movie later on," I answered.

We heard the sound of Jenny coming down the stairs. I turned to see her and was stunned. She was wearing a light green sun dress that stopped just above her knees. Her legs looked great, tapering to a pair of strappy sandals with a 2½-inch heel. Her red hair cascaded down over the front of her shoulders, framing her face nicely. Jenny's eyes were sparkling and she was grinning from ear to ear.

I walked up to her as she got to the bottom of the stairs.

"I've never seen you look more beautiful," I said.

She blushed a little and said, "Thanks, you look great, too."

We walked back to her dad.

"Have fun tonight you two," he said. "I've talked to your parents, Tony, and for tonight, and tonight only, there is no curfew for you two - just don't push it too far."

"We won't, Mr. Adams, I promise," I said.

We walked across the street to the car. Jenny's eyes got huge when she saw we were heading to Dad's car. We drove to the restaurant in an awkward silence. As we were waiting for the table, I reached out and took her hand in mine. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea, as I figured she could feel that my heart was beating about 200 times a minute. Jenny just smiled at me and squeezed it gently.

Dinner went well. The talking started slow, but we loosened up some as things went on. By the end I think I had my heart down to about 150.

As we walked back to the car, I took her hand again. Before I opened her door, I turned her to face me. "Are you still as nervous as I am?" I asked.

"Oh God, yes," she replied.

"I have an idea, but I don't want to make it worse," I said quietly.

She looked up at me, whispering, "I don't think anything would make it worse."

I leaned forward and kissed her. As our lips met, it felt like I had touched 1,000 volts. The excitement went from head to toe. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me gently. Jenny hesitated for a moment, and then just melted in my arms.

After several minutes, we broke the kiss. Jenny was smiling broadly and looking at me dreamily.

"Now we don't have to worry about That for the rest of the night. One less thing to think about," I said.

She just started laughing, pulled me in and hugged me tightly. I could feel all the tension leave her body. She felt so good in my arms; I knew I wanted this to happen a lot more.

After a few minutes, she pulled back, looked at me and said, "You're right, I was thinking about it. I shouldn't be bothered about it anymore. I do think, however, that we should make sure."

She leaned in and kissed me again. This one was even better because we were both putting more of ourselves into it. She kept holding me tighter and pulling me closer, her hands pressed to the back of my shoulders. I put one hand on her lower back, gently rubbing. With the other hand I reached up and held the back of her head, my fingers entwined in her hair. The feel of her tits pressing against my chest aroused me and I began to stir in my pants.

We finally broke the kiss when we heard a whistle from near the restaurant. I turned to look and saw a couple standing there. He was looking at us and she was tugging on his arm to get him to move. When he saw us staring back at him, he gave in and they walked off.

I turned back to Jenny, worried she'd been upset by the scene. "Maybe we should go somewhere else."

Jenny and I decided to go over to the theatre, where we quickly agreed on a movie. We sat in the back, with my arm around her and her head resting on my shoulder. I enjoyed the feeling of her up against me so much that I wasn't paying attention, and still don't remember what movie we saw.

Afterward, we went down to the park on the waterfront and just walked around holding hands. Finally, around 12:30 a.m., we decided we should get home. Standing on her porch, I looked at her and couldn't help but smile.

"I have never had a better night in all my life," I said.

"Me neither. I'm just upset we waited so long to do this," she said.

"I know, we were kind of dumb, weren't we?"

"We'll just have to do whatever we can to catch up." Jenny winked.

We stood there kissing for about twenty minutes. I decided I should be getting home before her dad came to investigate. I was a little surprised he hadn't yet.

I don't think I touched the ground as I went across the street. It took me hours to fall asleep; I didn't want the night to end and went over every detail, committing each to memory.

For the rest of the summer, except for the five days Jenny and her dad were at her grandparents, we spent every day together. We got closer and closer. At one point when we were at the mall, we ran into Anne, who noticed we were holding hands. She told us she was very happy for us. I confessed to Jenny that it was Anne who had suggested that I look at her closer. Jenny gave Anne a big hug and thanked her profusely.

When school started, it quickly got around that our friendship had blossomed into romance. It seemed to be the general consensus that this was a good thing. We got a couple of grumbles from a guy who had been after Jenny to go out with him since our freshman year, but we just ignored him.

Every day after school we did our homework together, helping each other through troublesome concepts. It may have taken a little longer than if we had done it separately, but we didn't care because we were enjoying every minute of it.

I once overheard my dad talking about us to my mom, saying, "We haven't spent as much time as they have together since we were on our honeymoon!" Mom just told him to mind his business and leave us alone.

The Second Nudge

It was March and Mr. Adams was leaving on a business trip. We had celebrated my 18th birthday the night before and we were all still in a good mood, or so I thought. My parents and I walked across the street to Jenny's house. They were going to drive him to the airport while I stayed with Jenny. Mr. Adams greeted us at the door and let us in.

"Where's Jenny?" I asked, not seeing her there.

"She's up in her room right now," he replied. "Listen Tony, I need to talk to you for a moment before you see her. She's a little upset right now."

"I thought something was bothering her, but she said it was nothing"

"It started a couple of days ago when she got the mail. There was a letter addressed to her mother, from her high school reunion committee. I wrote them last time to say she had passed, but I guess they never put that down on their records. It got Jenny thinking about her."

Jenny has told me many times how much she misses her mom. My mom has been a great help to her as sh

Explicit Sorority Scavenger Hunt

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Tue, 29 Sep 2026 14:46:00 +0000

Explicit Sorority Scavenger Hunt

One lowly pledge must satisfy the girls of Omega U.

By QuothTheRamen - Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Life as a lowly pledge

The day I went to college I thought I had cleaned my last floor. Washed my last dish. Scrubbed my last toilet. I left home after five years too many of flipping burgers and dealing with other people's shit. I was done trying to make a bunch of assholes happy.

It took all of one day in a frat to realize I was wrong. The world was filled with unhappy assholes, and they were all my problem.

"Pledge Needledick! Make sure the floor shines." Beko was the frat vice president. He was about as funny as a cold sore. But he was also a linebacker, so people generally felt obligated to laugh.

"It's Cam." I said.

"It's Cam what?"

"It's Cam, Sir." I said. I did not sigh. It was difficult.

"It's pledge Needledick now." Beko woofed. Like a dog. A retarded dog. "We are getting fucked up!"

Shaun slid himself between Beko and me, smooth as anyone I had ever seen.

"What Beko is trying to say is that today is your night on the chore rota Cam. All pledges take a turn." Shaun was the frat president. And he was probably going to be a senator.

"No. I get it. Shit needs cleaning." I said.

"Right. Spirit of brotherhood. Don't wait up." Shaun said. "Beko! What have I told you about pissing on the floor?"

And, with the sloppy zip of a zipper, I was alone. I had the place to myself, piles of shit to clean up, and a fresh puddle of piss to mop.

"I am so fucking stupid." I said.

I pledged the frat because Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda was the place for business majors. Just this chapter alone had produced three Fortune 500 CEOs, a couple of Silicon valley royalty, and so many millionaires they stopped keeping track. And business is all about who you know. A poor boy from the shit end of the city who does not know anyone needs to change that. And so I did. And now I was picking up empties while the future leaders of the free world were getting shitfaced and laid. You would think that with so many rich bastards they would have a maid.

I was well into the second hour and elbow deep in the world's most disgusting toilet when the doorbell rang.

I didn't get up. I just kept scrubbing. Whoever they were here for it certainly was not me.

The bell rang again.

And again.

And then someone starting pressing it like they'd been duct taped to the damn button and then had a seizure.

I ripped off my yellow gloves, jogged to the door and opened it.

"What the fu-" I started. I did not end that sentence. I saw where it was going, flagged it down, and gave it directions to a new and better place.

"How can I help you?" I said.

Is this because I am a good person? The kind of person who does not tear people's heads off for no reason? Of course not. I worked in fast food. It was because, on the other side of the door, stood a very pretty young Asian girl in heels, a knit skirt, and a sorority sweater so tight that it had to have been drawn on her.

The girl blinked the blink of the slightly high, or the very dumb.

"I'm here for Beko." she said.

Dumb it is.

"He's out right now. I can tell him you called." I said.

She blinked again.

"I didn't call. I walked."

"Right. No. Totally get that. Do you want to leave a message?"

"Nope. I want to see Beko."

"Tell you what. Come on in. We'll call him." I said. "Let me just wash my hands."

She walked in and, with a clear familiarity, walked over to our least disgusting couch and sat on it. I ran to the sink, scrubbed up and came out. Then I called Beko from my cell. He answered on the first ring.

"Beko, it's me, Cam. I have a--" I looked at the Asian space cadet quizzically.

"June." she said.

"--June here to talk to you."

"Needledick! I was watching porn on my phone." Beko shouted. Over what must have been one hell of a party. "Now I just see your stupid Needledick name on my phone. Hang up so I can see some titties."

So I hung up.

"He's very busy right now." I said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Is Joe here?"

"No. Just me."

"Louis?"

"No. He's out."

Ryan?"

"No. I am the only one here. I am the only Alpha in the house. There is just me. I see you thinking of another name. But he is not here either. I assure you, I am the Alpha and the Omega of people in this house."

She looked confused.

"No. I am the Omega. Omega Chi Upsilon Mu." She said.

Now I was confused. Omega was almost a honor society. It was not your run of the mill sorority.

"Pardon?"

"I'm an Omega." She smiled. "And I am high as fuck."

Ahh. So not dumb. Just really high.

"Right. Well is there anyone else you need me to call? I don't want to blow you off, but I still have a lot of cleaning to do." I said.

"I want to blow you off."

"Is that a pot joke?"

"No." She stopped, wrinkled up in a frown, then continued. "At least I don't think so. I need to blow an Alpha."

"And why is that?""

"Scavenger hunt. You guys are worth forty points for a facial."

"I'm sorry?"

Let's step back for a moment. Time to create a Venn diagram. One circle will be "Woman who have sucked my dick." Small circle. Not empty. Filled with women to whom I am forever grateful. Let's have the other circle be "Women who are so fucking hot that I silently apologize after jerking off to their memory." Now, and I want to be totally clear on this, these circles do not intersect. Not even a little. They don't even get written out on the same piece of paper.

Imagine too, a circle labelled "Women who let me cum on their face." This circle was empty.

Back to the moment.

"Tonight is the Omega Scavenger hunt. And I wanna win it." she said. Her smile was tempting me to make a bad decision.

"So what do I do?"

"Take off your pants. But leave on the Alpha sweatshirt."

I reached for my belt, and then years of self-preservation kicked in.

"Wait, Beko's not your boyfriend is he? Because he would have an easy time killing me and I would have a hard time stopping him."

"Nope. He just has a nice dick."

Which is exactly not what I want to think about when I next see Beko.

I dropped my pants. Then I closed my eyes and waited for the someone to tell me that this was a terrible terrible prank.

What I felt instead was warm breath across my the head of my dick. I cautiously opened one eye, then the other. She'd taken one of the couch cushions and put it on the floor in front of me. She was kneeling on it, her face just inches away from me. I was not hard. But that was not going to last.

She traced her fingers up my thigh, sliding them slowly up, I bit my lip as I watched her. Her hand slid under my balls, then she ran a finger from my ass all the way to where they hung. All the while her hot breath surrounded me.

I'd never watched myself get hard before, but it was happening so fast it barely registered. One minute her hand lightly cupped my balls and the next I am so damn hard that it almost slaps me in the stomach.

"You like this?" She asked, as she ran her soft cheek along the head.

"I'm neither dead nor gay, so yes."

"Good." She said. The she wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft, holding it up. She leaned in and alternated between soft kisses and quick licks as she worked her way up. I balled my fists so hard that my nails dug into my palms. She teased and licked her way up, until her mouth was just at the head. Then she looked up at me, winked, and took me in her mouth.

I'd had my dick sucked before. I thought it was awesome. It turns out that everyone who came before was just shit.

She ran her tongue under my shaft, her mouth wet and ready. She swirled it against the hole at the tip, then leaned in, taking inch after inch. She did not slow. She did not stop. She took me in until her nose was flush against me, her chin touching my balls. She winked again.

And then slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, she let me out. Her tongue made every inch of my man flesh electric. I reached down to her head, but she just brushed me off, then waved her finger in the classic naughty naughty gesture. Chastened, I put my hands behind my head and groaned.

She firmly wrapped one hand around my root, and with the other cupped my balls, pressing a finger against my taint. She leaned forward again, taking me until her lips reached her hand.

She began to rock her head back and forth, slowly at first. Her hand stayed with her lips, making every rock a long slow stroke of my dick, with the wet miracle of her mouth keeping me on edge. I took a deep breath as she started speeding up. Every downstroke felt my cock getting wetter, every upstroke felt my balls getting tighter. Her free hand was rubbing my taint, teasing my balls, and driving me crazy.

I felt my hips go loose as I adopted her rhythm. Pulling away when she pulled away. Pushing in as she pushed in. I felt myself in the back of her throat, then running the length of her tongue. She kept a wet suction that gave me no respite. I felt myself pushing the pace now. Seeing her, so gorgeous, so sexy so fucking good at sucking a cock was too much. I pushed so hard she gagged. I pulled out so far the cool air hit me.

But she did not stop. Her grip on my shaft tighten. She slammed me into her mouth as if daring me to try to stop. I was off balance, standing on my toes, my dick falling into her amazing mouth, my eyes seeing stars.

"Fucking Christ! I'm going to blow!" I said.

She sped up, moving so fast she got blurry. I felt my load begin, rumbling from the depths of me up my shaft. She felt it too, and right when it was about to escape she learned back, her hands continuing to work the shaft. I exploded on to her. On her cheek, her perfect nose, her hair. And she put her face right against me. Pulling me still, milking every last drop onto her skin. I was in love.

So it is a clear understatement when I say I was surprised when the flash went off.

"Did you just take a selfie?" I said.

"Yep. Gotta get the points." She said.

"I forgot about that." And I had. This was clearly a one-time thing. But at least I closed the Venn diagram.

"So June, could you send me that?"

"Nope."

"Right." I reached for the paper towel roll that remained from my cleaning and offered it to her.

"Towel?" I said.

She smiled the gorgeous smile, buried under layers of my spunk.

"Nope. I'll wear it out. Extra five points."

And, just like that, she was gone. It was the best thirty minutes of my life so far.

Of course, by the end of the night it would be the third best thirty minutes of my life.

One lowly pledge must make her nasty video dreams come true.

I found pizza under a couch. Not a pizza box. No box to be found. Not a single slice, but instead eight slices, composing a whole pizza of what I can only assume was pepperoni pizza, all perfectly arranged under the couch. Like it was being delivered to hungry mice whose ordering reach far exceeds their grasp. Or a bunch of morons with the munchies. Fifty/fifty.

I had been tempted, only briefly, to leave the pizza out as a reminder to my frat brothers to clean up after themselves. But, given the bags of filth I trucked out to the dumpster, this cause was lost. I tossed the pizza in with the condom wrappers, used dental floss, and random crusty Kleenex that so recently littered our floors.

You might think that I would be unhappy, cleaning up after a couple dozen very well connected douchebags. And, on a normal night, you would be right. But this was not a normal night. This was a night in which the mere fact of my association with Alpha Nu Alpha Lambda resulted in me getting the kind of blow job reserved for men with excessive body hair, giant cigars, and private armies. A night in which one of the hottest women I had ever seen allowed me to not only cover a tile in ethnic bingo (Row: BJ, Column: Asian. Bingo!) but also had me paint her face like a drunken Jackson Pollack.

So while I may be the lowest man on a very mangy totem pole, I was also a man who had had my pole waxed. I was in a post orgasm glow, and oscillated between absolute disbelief that I might ever be so lucky, and a profound fear that the best thing that might ever happen to me had already happened.

It was deep into one of these swings into self-doubt, and deep into a pile of what I could only assume were once out dishes, that the doorbell rang.

It may seem crazy to you that I did not run to the door. It may seem crazy to you that I did not even leave the dishes behind. But, to be clear, you are three hundred words into chapter two. I assumed I was living in the boring epilogue of chapter one.

So I did not walk to the door. And I did not run. Instead I picked up the next sorry excuse for a plate and started scrubbing.

The doorbell rang again. With feeling. And then again. Eventually I realized that whomever was pushing it was actually tapping out a beat. A lively bossa nova thing. And they were not going anywhere.

No night is perfect. I put the dish down, dried off my hands, and walked to the door. The persistent beat made my feet want to run, but I kept them under control.

I stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.

"Welcome to Alpha Nu, how can I help you?"

It was dark outside. But she was very blonde. The kind of blonde that happens when you have hair bleach and a wandering mind. The hair framed a lovely face, ghostly pale. And now I was staring. She smiled, a thousand watt thing.

"You can help me by getting out of my way."

"What?"

"'How can you help me?'" She said. "You just asked. Then you got stupid."

"Right. No. Come in. I'm Cam." I moved out of the way

She pushed past me, pulling a giant roller bag.

"I'm Mary. But everyone calls me Daisy."

"Why is that?"

She hit me with the smile again. "Because I tell them to."

She put the bag down, then spun around like a Julie Andrews on a German mountain. This caused her slightly modest sundress to become much less modest, and gave me a lovely view of a pair of runner's legs. And I was staring again.

"This will have to do. It's funny, because the place looks so classy outside. All bricks and ivy. Then you come in and it looks like someone threw up on the floor." She said.

"Someone does throw up on the floor. Every day. His name is Ted. He calls it clearing his throat."

Daisy looked at me with an expression that I could not place. Something between amused and irritated.

"Let the artist work, dear." She said. "And that is not the visual I want in my head."

She stalked around the room, framing parts with her fingers.

"I want sultry. I want dark. I want something that oozes passion and hunger and need." She said.

"It's a dump. A dump with couches that are so nasty they make crunching sounds when you sit on them." I said.

"It needs lighting. It needs ambiance. It needs to be perfect."

"Perfect for what?" I asked.

"This!" She said. Then she handed me a piece of paper. I scanned it.

"Is this a shot list?"

"Of course. You can't direct without one."

"And everything on this-" I waved the sheet. "Is going to happen here?"

"Of course."

"Who is playing willing young co-ed?" I asked.

"Me. I am the star of all my works."

"And who is playing the hard and ready young stud?"

"Well Cam, I was going to audition the boys," She said. And then that smile almost knocked me down. "but you're the only one here. So... are you up for it?"

I started pulling off my pants.

She put a hand on my chest.

"Hold up cowboy. You've seen the shot list. Not until scene 3. Now help me set up."

You might think a roller bag would only hold a small amount of film equipment. You would be wrong. You might think that setting up lights, area mikes, a camera, and a bunch of shit that I do not have names for would be difficult with an erection. You would be right. But, given the proper motivation, all work can be rewarding.

"I've never seen anyone work so fast." She said.

"I'm a lover of film." I said. "You know, I don't normally ask questions when an absurdly attractive woman asks me to make a porno with her-"

"You get asked that a lot?" She said, as she was draping sheets over the couch.

"More than I'd have ever thought." I said. "But why are we making a porno?"

"Because I am an Omega Mu. And this is our annual scavenger hunt." She said. "This video should be worth 355 points, should you be able to keep your load in for every shot."

"So, I'm just going to ask this." I said. I looked up and saw her fiddling with the camera. It took me a second to refocus from looking down her dress at her very impressive rack. She caught me looking, and smiled behind the viewfinder.

"Why are you doing this at all. This is not me trying to scare you away, I am just really curious."

She stopped for a second, and pulled a couple of wispy blonde strands from in front of her face to behind her ear. I don't know that I believe in any god, but if one exists he must be damn happy with his work here.

"Do you know how competitive Omega Mu is? The girls there are driven to be great. They will walk off this campus and into lives that most people only dream of. And I'm a film major. They don't respect what I do. They don't understand it. Most of them can't even be bothered to stay awake during my films."

She stepped close, so close I could smell strawberries and the faintest hint of excitement.

"But they will stay awake for this one. By the time I'm done showing it to them they'll be sitting in puddles of their own juice, awkwardly fidgeting and looking for any excuse to get back to their rooms and get their stuck up snatches off. That room will absolutely stink of arousal and lust and need. And they will know that I am one hell of a filmmaker."

My dick was threatening to leave my body and go into orbit.

"Is the camera rolling? I need it to be rolling." I said.

She pointed at the red light. "It's been rolling for the last five minutes. Take off your shirt."

I took my shirt off so damn fast I nearly sprained my shoulders.

"I don't have a script."

"We'll improvise."

She closed her eyes and leaned in. I laid my fingers on top of her hand, gliding them up her arm, to her shoulders. I traced her collarbone, then ran them up her neck, to her cheek. Her lips parted. I leaned in to meet them with my own. I felt a slight shudder as they touched, and I wondered if perhaps all her confidence masked a delicacy, a pure and innocent nature, uncorrupted by all the debauchery that surrounds her.

Then I felt a firm hand against my chest. It shoved me on to the couch. I fell with no resistance. She walked up to me, put one leg up by my head and pulled up her dress, revealing absolutely no underwear. "You will lick the living shit out of my pussy. If you're lucky I'll let you lick my ass. And If you do a very good job at that I will let you put that monster trying to escape your jeans balls deep inside me."

I am a terrible judge of character.

That delicate flower ground her incredibly wet pussy into my face. I am not the smartest guy. And I am no actor. But I certainly take direction. I put my hands on her thighs to steady her, then teased her outer lips with my tongue, splitting them, letting them close, tasting her mix of sweat and natural lubrication. I pulled the inner lips between mine, tracing them up to the hard nub. I ran my lips against it, lightly at first, teasing it with my tongue. She rocked her hips into my face, grinding her clit against my lips.

I sped up my tongue to meet her urgency, tightening my grip on her legs, pulling her into me. Her juices flowed all over my jaw, pooling on my chest. She lowered her hands to my head and pulled me in so tight I could barely breathe.

"Faster you bastard! If I don't get off you don't get off."

Being a gentleman, I obliged the lady. But I knew that speed alone was not going to be enough. I freed one of my hands and ran it between her legs. I took her clit between my lips and raced my tongue along it, feeling it pulse with her arousal. A feeling matched only with the untended arousal currently in my pants.

"You can't go too hard with me. And you sure as hell aren't going hard enough."

Guarding Tara: Part 2

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Tue, 29 Sep 2026 02:21:00 +0000

Guarding Tara: Part 2

Commandos attack by land and water.

Based on a post by The_Kansan. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I pulled up the covers and tucked her in.

Silently, I got up and put my boxers back on before heading to the kitchen. The house was dark, save for the dim, flickering light coming from the fireplace. I didn't turn on any lights, as moving through the darkness had always felt natural to me, comforting. Probably how cockroaches feel. Anyway, it was after midnight and I wanted to get an early start on the new day's beer ration. As I drank my beer, I thought about what I had just done with my buddy's daughter. Yes, she was an adult, now, and yes, she had wanted this as much as I had. But would either of those things matter to Jason? I hoped I hadn't destroyed a friendship that spanned multiple decades.

I put more wood on the fire and stood in the middle of the living room, staring out the big bay windows, finishing off my beer as I looked down the long driveway. The thunderstorm had passed but the moon was still hidden by clouds. In the kitchen, I pulled a second beer from the fridge, set it on the counter and picked up my phone. I took a quick photo of the bottle and sent it to Frank with a text: "Wish you were here!"

Halfway through the beer, Frank's reply buzzed my phone.

"Me, too, ass hole!"

I made a mental note to take him a couple beers when I went to check on him later. The empty bottles went into the trash and I returned to the bedroom. For a long while, I just stood beside the bed, watching the beautiful young woman asleep on it. Of all the women that had been in my bed, Tara was the only one I cared about. The only one I actually loved. I stealthily slipped back in bed and drew the covers up. Though not awake, Tara moved toward me like a plant moving toward sunlight, snuggling in close. I put my arm around her, kissed her forehead softly. No way would I let anyone harm her.

I awoke to Tara's sweet lips on mine, kissing me, sucking at my mouth. I kissed her back, then rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"Toothpaste!" I cried out over my shoulder. "I need toothpaste and a shower."

Tara giggled and lay back on the bed, stretched out morning muscles as she sprawled there, naked. In the bathroom, I took care of the usual stuff, then turned on the shower. Tara walked in behind me and sat on the toilet while I waited on the hot water. I leaned down to kiss her with my minty fresh mouth as she tinkled. She reached out and stroked my cum encrusted cock as she kissed me back.

"That sure is a big shower, Uncle Gabriel."

Yes, it certainly was. We showered together, washed each other amid almost constant kissing. I sucked her titties and massaged her cuntlips and clit; Tara sucked my cock and massaged my balls.

I fucked her from behind for a while, until her legs were close to giving out, then turned her around and pressed her into a corner, lifted her right leg and screwed her until we both came. As I pumped another load into her tight, delicious pussy, I realized how easily Tara could become an addiction for me.

By mid-morning we had eaten, screwed again in the kitchen, and went outside for a hike in the woods. With Frank on overwatch, I felt secure enough to leave the rifle behind, opting instead for my BFR 45 70 revolver in a chest rig, and a Walther PPQ 45 on my hip, for backup.

“Hey, there are bears in these parts. Doesn't hurt to be prepared, right?” Tara sucked me off in the woods, but didn't want to fuck because of her fear of spiders.

Damn right I pulled out my cock and let her suck it; I ain't afraid of spiders.

We had Reubens and fries for lunch. I made a couple more for Frank. Tara caught up with me on the day's beer rations as I had switched to water. Tara was a very pleasant conversationalist and lunch was a very nice change from my typical solo meals.

After cleaning up, I packed the sandwiches, several miscellaneous snack goodies, six bottles of water, and two beers for Frank.

"Beast to Overwatch, sit rep, over," I said into a small, hand-held 2-way radio.

"Overwatch to Beast, dude, you live by a seriously boring piece of asphalt," Frank replied over the radio. "This shit is deader than week old road kill."

"Cool," I returned, "Heading your way to resupply, rally at the turnoff, over."

"Roger that, see you in a few."

I clipped the radio to my waist and turned to gear back up. Tara stared at me, a dubious expression on her face.

"What?"

"Beast?" she asked. "Your hoo-ah hoo-ah Army nickname is Beast?" I threw my palms up and shrugged.

"Well, it was either going to be that, or You Asshole, which, has like, three times as many syllables. Conciser is nicer."

Tara shook her head and grabbed up Frank's care package.

"Come on, Uncle Beast. Frank will be wanting these." Tara put her hand on my shoulder and got me moving toward the door.

Outside, I removed the tarp from one of the ATV got on and fired it up. Tara got on behind me and after letting the engine warm up, we headed up the driveway toward the county blacktop. We stopped just short of the gate that secured the driveway and dismounted. Across the road, Frank was coming down from the adjacent high ground. Almost to the road, he slung his rifle and waved. We waved back and I gestured toward the woods to my right. We gathered in the shade under the tall firs and Frank gave Tara a big hug.

"Dang, girl," Frank said, looking her over with an appreciative eye, "you done went and got all growed up."

Tara sighed and shrugged. "Well, Uncle Frank, it wouldn't be such a shock if you came for visits more often."

Hearing Tara call him Uncle Frank had a strange effect on me, not jealousy, but something I couldn't quite determine. Growing up, she had called all of her dad's Army buddies 'Uncle', a title we had all happily shared. Perhaps that was the source of my discomfort. I no longer wanted to share her. We sat near a low, bushy cedar and talked while Frank got busy with a sandwich and beer.

"As of last contact," Frank mumbled through a half-filled mouth, "the plan is to cut the head off the snake. Emmett's already calling in some operators to put together a team, and Kyle is gathering intel and working up a mission plan."

"Any leads on why one of Tara's security guys was part of the crew sent to get her?" I asked. Frank took a swig from his beer and shook his head.

"Not, yet," he replied. "But we might have a guy working that. Remember Tony Coletti?" I nodded. "Well, Kyle and Tony stayed in touch since we got out. Tony's a big time computer nerd, software engineer, hacker geek, or something. Kyle got the guy's phone number from Jason and somehow he's backtracking through call logs."

"Alright, bro," I said, standing up and offering my hand to Tara. "We're going to head back, I guess. Rally tomorrow on the other side of the drive, an hour earlier. In the meantime, anything you need, call me. Frank stood up and held out his arms toward Tara.

"All I need right now is another hug from our girl," Frank said, grinning wide.

Tara stepped up to him and gave him a hug. He held on longer than I liked.

"Come on, Trouble," I told her, "let's go get that boat ride off our 'to do' list."

Tara broke the hug and raced off toward the ATV.

I reached out, shook my old buddy's hand. "Thanks for doing this."

Frank nodded. "Thanks for the Reubens."

Tara ran across the yard toward the boat. Having spent way too much on the high-end bass boat, I ended up with an aluminum carport in place of a proper boathouse. With a few modifications, the carport was anchored to the South side of my dock, and the twenty-one foot bass boat was trapped and held snugly in place by eight moor lines. Overkill, I know, but I wasn't about to let wind and rough water slam my overpriced toy around like a drunken prom queen.

Next to it on the dock, Tara was jumping up and down like an excited teenager, waiting for me.

I took my time getting there, enjoying the sight of her titties bouncing beneath her T-shirt. Thinking about what I wanted to do to her out on the lake was giving me a chubby.

The one-hour boat ride I had planned ended up being almost three. She insisted on sucking my cock, first, to help get me in the mood, she said. Honestly, I'd been in the mood all day, but I wasn't stupid enough to pass on a blowjob.

I cut the motor and we drifted while Tara went to work on my cock, sucking and throating me without mercy, fondling my balls. I watched her head bobbing up and down on me, felt her tongue swirl side to side on the bottom of my shaft. She was amazing, and with the waves gently rocking the boat, it felt like a perfect moment, frozen in time.

I came hard in her sexy mouth, spewing salty ropes of my seed against the back of her throat. Tara greedily took every drop as she pumped my shaft with both hands, determined to drain me.

Getting up from the swivel captain's seat, I stood her up and pulled off her T-shirt. Braless, her perfect tits were on full display. I kissed her hotly, groped her titties like a lust-crazed sex maniac. Roughly, I unfastened her shorts and yanked them down, along with her panties. I hurriedly guided her onto her back, lying her on the carpeted compartment lids that made up the front half of the boat's deck. Pushing her legs apart, I wasted little time pressing my mouth against her already soaked cunny. I ate her out like a man who was helplessly in love, whose sole mission in life was to inflict as much pleasure upon her as possible. She moaned and thrust her pussy at my tongue, tightened her body and trembled at every orgasm, and when she could endure no more, she pulled desperately on me, to move up and fuck her.

I paused to suck her sensitive titties, first, nibbling at her long nipples, sucking and nipping them with my teeth. Tara took hold of my head with both hands and again pulled at me, trying to get me into position.

"No more teasing," she panted, our lips touching. "I need you to fuck me, Gabriel. Please don't make me beg you."

I kissed her hard, slid my tongue into her mouth and drove my cock all the way into her tight, wet cunt in a single thrust. She moaned forcefully into my mouth, then wrapped her sexy legs around my waist. I knew what she wanted, what her body needed. Feverishly, I slammed hard and fast into her, nibbled and sucked at her neck while mauling her tits with my hand.

When she started coming, I briefly wondered if her cries of ecstasy could be heard across the lake, or on the mountainside where Frank was sitting as overwatch. In that moment, though, it really didn't matter. Her pussy felt so fucking good, so inescapable, I couldn't stop pounding it even if her father was sitting behind me, watching.

We continued on like that for a while, then repositioned for some frenzied doggy-style action.

She yelled and gasped, slapped the deck with her palms and quivered uncontrollably.

When I eventually came in her, I was drenched in sweat and near collapse. When my orgasm finally began to wane, I pulled my cock out of her overflowing pussy and lay down next to her, gasping for air. She rolled to her side and kissed me, despite my huffing and puffing.

"I haven't really thanked you for saving my life," she said softly, caressing my face with her delicate fingers, then kissing me, again. "I hope you know how much I love you, Gabriel. How much I'm in love with you."

Even in its current state of oxygen deprivation, my brain snapped back to reality upon hearing her words. I pressed my forehead to hers.

"I love you, too, Tara. More than you'll probably ever know."

She kissed me, then looked deep into my eyes. "In that case," she began, "you'll probably have to show me."

If it hadn't been for thirst and hunger, we likely would have stayed out on the lake until dark. Tara wanted to sit on my lap and fuck me on the way back to the dock, but I was still too spent.

If I had been nineteen, again, no problem. But I was a forty-three year-old trying to satisfy an insatiable twenty year-old woman. I already knew I was in for a long night.

With the boat secure in its little carport boathouse, we walked arm in arm to the cabin. We skipped the beer and went straight for the Gatorade. We showered together, but without sex. Okay, maybe a lot of kissing, fingering, and stroking, but no fucking. Perhaps we were both saving up for a long night.

After a light dinner of tossed salad, tomato soup, and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, I lit a new fire in the fireplace and we snuggled close on the sofa. For a long while, we sat in silence, content to be together, kissing and touching. It was me who broke the quiet.

"Tara, did you really mean what you said, earlier?"

"Of course I did," she replied. "I always mean what I say." She paused, then continued. "What statement of mine are you talking about?"

"The one about you being in love with me." Tara moved over to sit on my lap, facing me.

"Oh, that statement. Yes. I am definitely, one-hundred percent, totally, madly in love with you, Gabriel Martin Stone." I was stunned that she knew my middle name, but I knew better than to ask how she knew it. "Want me to prove it?" she asked. I wrapped my arms around her waist, smiled and nodded. Tara stood up and took my hand, then led me to the bedroom. My long night was about to begin.

The way she made love to me was more settled, somehow. Less frenetic and more loving. She was gentle, as if savoring every sensation, and focused on giving me pleasure.

I matched her, poured my love into her, praying she could know what was in my heart as we slow-fucked and kissed. Our acts of love went far into the night, and like the previous night.

I went to the kitchen once she had fallen asleep. This time, however, I stood in my living room drinking a bottle of water. I hadn't been there long when I heard my phone buzz on the kitchen counter behind me. It was Frank. I answered the call.

"Okay, bro," Frank began in a whisper, "we got action, front. Two vehicles. Two four-man teams, moving to your twenty. Four left, four right. One driver staying back in each vehicle. What's the play?"

I was already rushing to the bedroom. "The play is we kill the fuckers. Give them five minutes to get well into the kill zone, then take out the drivers. Get their keys and move in on your four from behind, you take the West side of the driveway, I'll take the East side."

"Copy that," Frank said, "drivers in five, then sweep West."

I dressed and geared up quickly, grabbed my Walther, three additional mags, and a 22 rifle I had suppressed with a long, custom can. Unsure if the men moving toward the cabin were equipped with night vision, I slipped out the back door and moved around to the southeast side of the cabin. I took up a good spot, about fifty yards out in the treeline. That was the moment I saw the boats. Rowing in silently, two inflatables were approaching my dock. I scoped them with the infrared optic on the 22. Each boat carried six men. I covered the face of my phone so no light would get out, then texted this new development to Frank.

Frank texted back, "Roger, coming in hot." A few seconds later I heard two distant, muffled shots, a second apart. I decided that the best time to engage the jolly pirates was now, while they were still in tight groups on the water. A.22 is not a hard-hitter, but with subsonic ammo and a decent can, it's a very stealthy weapon with almost no recoil, which was what I needed for rapid, accurate follow-up shots.

From my line of sight, the six heads in each boat were closely aligned. Nice. Seven rounds fired, six heads ventilated. The guys in the other boat succumbed to panic and chaos. The two in front fired wildly in my general direction, and one jumped off the back of their boat into the water.

Thwack! Thwack!

The shooters in front were retired. The middle pair and the guy in the back started paddling like crazy, trying to get to the other side of the dock to get some cover.

Thwack! Thwack!; Thwack!

Boat number 2 was clear, but I still had one in the water. Having made it to the dock, he was staying low, moving around the dock toward my boat. Oh, hell no, I thought, jumping up and running to a new position.

Thwack!

Problem solved, time to reload. As I did just that, I heard men shouting in the tree line, excited. The shouts were soon followed by the distinctive sounds of Frank's slightly muffled, large caliber AR. Gunfire erupted on both sides of the driveway. I handled the four on my side of the driveway, Frank handled his four. It was over in a few seconds. I met Frank on the driveway and we went around to each body, confirming that the threat had been eliminated. We gathered guns and ammo, but found no IDs or cell phones.

"Goddamn, man," Frank beamed. "We got, like what, sixteen of these fuckheads? What do you want to do with them?"

I looked at one of the bodies, then out at the lake. "Fish gotta eat, too, right?"

I awoke to the sensation of Tara's fingernails gently raking through the hairs on my chest. I opened a sleepy eye and looked over at her. On her side, she was busy studying me, smiling.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," she said, her voice a silken whisper. "I must be taking a toll on you, dear. It's almost eight."

It was after four that morning when I had showered and slipped back into bed without waking her. She reached down and took full control of my morning wood. Scooting in close, she nibbled at my earlobe, whispered in my ear. "Time to get up, darling."

The days and nights with Tara passed far too quickly, each filled with hugs and kisses, snuggles and cuddles by the fire, hikes and boat rides, and a ridiculous amount of sex. It seemed we were addicted to it, like teenage newlyweds. If the cliché is true, that time flies when you're having fun, our time was flying by with a rocket up its ass.

On the eighth day, as Tara and I were fixing another supply package for Frank, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Frank, saying, "Heading your way. Mission complete." It was a good thing, to be sure, but my heart sank when I read the message.

"Gabriel, what is it?" Tara asked.

I handed her my phone and she read the text. She looked up at me and I could tell by her expression that she was as dumbstruck as I was.

She stepped in close and wrapped her arms around me, squeezed me tight. "What does this mean? Does it mean I have to go home, now?" I held her face and looked into her eyes.

"It just means that the threat has been taken care of," I answered. "Let's talk to Frank and get some details, okay?" Tara nodded. We kissed and went out on the porch to wait on Frank, each of us grappling with our own thoughts.

When Frank arrived on foot down the driveway carrying all of his gear, we greeted him and sat down to talk. Frank explained that the seven-man assault team put together by Emmett and Jason had gone to Guatemala and disposed of Enrico Zavala's brother, Jorge, who was responsible for the attacks.

"Well," I said, looking over at Tara, "I guess that's good news, right?"

Tara shrugged and looked down at her lap. "Yeah, of course," she replied, no cheer in her voice. "It's good."

Frank studied her expression closely, tried to read it, then looked over at me. I knew what was running through his mind, and he was right.

"Damn straight it's good news," he asserted, "but it ain't the big news. Ready to have your brains explode?"

We nodded and Frank continued. "Tony put the puzzle together on your rogue security asshole. Gabe, he was fucking Andrea." Tara gaspe

Guarding Tara: Part 1

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Mon, 28 Sep 2026 02:20:00 +0000

Guarding Tara: Part 1

A Daughter of privilege learns the value of vigilance, and the sexiness of valor.

Based on a post by The_Kansan. Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.

I glanced at the caller ID on my phone, answered the call.

"Hey, Cap, what's the occasion?" I asked. The caller was an old Army buddy of mine, Jason Lang. He made it to Captain, served six and got out. I did the whole twenty before getting out. We stayed tight throughout it all, us and a few of the guys from our old unit. Jason went back to college, got his master's in Political Science and was elected Governor seven years ago. Talk about riding a meteor. That was a hell of a victory party, what I remember of it, anyway. When you're hungover for three days, you know it was a hell of a party.

"Gabriel!" came the voice at the other end. "You picked up, so I assume you're back stateside."

"Been back three days, now," I returned.

"How was it?"

"Ah, you know. Same shit, different faces." Eighteen days in fucking El Salvador. Pretty ladies, but a seriously fucked up culture and politics. Their normal ain't my normal, that's for damn sure. We did our recon, gathered intel, and dealt with the target. I'm just happy I didn't get the squirts this time.

"Well, my friend," Jason replied, "I'm glad you're back safe."

"Thanks, Cap," I said. "Is everything cool? I know you're crazy busy most of the time." The phone was quiet for a few seconds.

"Yeah, probably," he began, "but the whole 'father's paranoia' thing is messing with me."

"Did something happen to Tara?" I asked, concerned. Tara was Jason's only child, now twenty. Throughout her childhood, I was always Uncle Gabe to her, a role that I cherished. Women in my life came and went, none feeling right for any kind of lasting relationship, so Tara was probably the closest thing to a daughter that I'll ever have in my life.

"No; no. It's just, Gabe, I hate like hell to ask this, I know you just got back;"

"No worries," I interrupted, "I'm already getting bored. What's the issue?"

"Well, you know how frustrated she's been the last few years about being the Governor's kid, right?"

"Oh, yes," I chuckled, "she's been very clear about her feelings on the matter."

"That's a nice way of putting things," Jason continued. "So, she's got this new boyfriend, now, kinda light in the ass if you ask me, but I'm not the one who has to hang out with him. Still I think boot camp would help him grow up.”

I chuckled, but Jason moved on to his point; “Anyway, she got it in her head that she and Pee-Wee want to go camping; like normal people, she says; and threw a tantrum over ditching her security detail. Gabe, it's not a good time for any of us to be without security, right now. I got several death threats for refusing to pardon Enrico Zavala, and these dickheads are highly insane and unpredictable." True. Guatemalan drug lords may talk a lot of shit, but on any given Tuesday they can send a wagon load of shit to your front porch.

"So, how'd the conversation play out?"

"Well, she's got a lot of her mother in her," Jason explained.

"Meaning you lost?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. Tara's mom, Donna, was Jason's first wife. Donna always won their disagreements. Always. Donna was as brilliant as she was beautiful, and that's saying a lot. Jason lost her to cancer five years back.

"Yeah," he confessed, "I lost. She said she's an adult, now, and can pretty much decide things for herself. She and her man-child are heading off tomorrow to some double-top-secret campsite, someplace remote where her security team can't stop by to check on her."

"Is there such a place," I laughed.

"Hell, no. But, if I do send them in and she spots them, she will lose her fucking mind and I'll never hear the end of it."

"So, what you need is a security team of one, someone who won't be spotted." I didn't need to see Jason's face to know he was smiling.

"Gabe, that's exactly what I need."

Tara and her boyfriend left the Governor's estate around nine o'clock the next morning. I followed his pickup from a discreet distance as they drove odd patterns all over the city, presumably to see if her security team was behind them. Before hitting the highway, they stopped at Walmart for last minute goodies. I made good use of the time to put a magnetic tracker in his wheel well. From that point on, it was a simple matter to follow them, staying a couple miles behind the boyfriend's truck.

When Tara told her father she planned to go someplace remote, she was serious. In a state park, they turned off the paved road onto a very rough, seldom used dirt path that led straight into the heart of some heavily forested, somewhat rough terrain. I held back as they crawled through the woods in his little Toyota truck, taking nearly an hour to go the six miles to their campsite. When I saw that the tracker had stopped, I moved forward in my Jeep.

Three miles out, I stopped and set up early warning sensors on trees that flanked the road, and a mile later I began placing a series of trail cams in quarter-mile intervals. A mile from their camp, I found a slight break in the trees where I could back my Wrangler a few hundred feet off the trail.

I pulled my gear from the back and draped the vehicle with a camo net and some fallen branches. In a spot that was clear of overhead foliage, I set out my second-favorite toy, a quiet running drone with remarkable range, a kick-ass zoom and infrared ability. Already in my tactical clothing, I geared up with an ammo belt and mag holders, vest, helmet and tactical pack. I grabbed my rifle, my favorite toy, and headed out. Paralleling the trail but staying well away from it, I moved in on their campsite, stopping two hundred yards out. Their pickup was parked where a fallen pine log impeded any further vehicle access. A marvelous small clearing was just 120 feet uphill. That was where they were busy.

Setting up their tent seemed to be challenging, but they were determined to have a place to play in. By late afternoon the tent was up, fully stocked with their nighttime necessities, and the boyfriend actually set up a campfire worthy of photographing for a scouting handbook. I was already in my woodland ghillie suit. It made me look like a swamp monster if I stood up, but when prone I looked like a clump of grass and tree roots. I had done system checks on the trail cams by the time they were cooking hot dogs over the fire, Tara having declared her ultimate defiance of decorum by stripping naked, except for her hiking boots.

For some time, I watched them, marveling at how my little Tara had grown up. Her silky, brunette hair was long and luxurious, a perfect match for her lovely, brown-eyed girl-next-door face. Toned and graceful, she was a joy to behold. Tara's natural C-cup tits were pert and fabulously placed, with no discernible sag, yet. At only twenty years old she already had full, womanly hips and a gorgeous ass. Silently, I cussed myself for noticing, but how could any man not notice? To me, nothing is sexier than a naked full-figure woman, in rugged boots.

I made a comfy spot to sit at the base of a tall cedar. Even without the directional mic I was using, I could hear them laughing and carrying on. Still, it proved useful. I learned that the boyfriend's name was Trevor, and that he suspected Tara's dad didn't like him, much. Not a total idiot, I suppose. With nearly an hour of sunlight left, I watched them enter the tent, giggling like a pair of middle-schoolers. They talked about where they had put the condoms, and when Tara told him she wanted to put it on his cock, well, that's when I aimed the mic back up the road in the opposite direction. I loved Tara dearly, and that was not something I allowed myself to listen to. My infra-red scope confirmed a cowgirl was in her mount. That's when my training said to find another target for my concentration. Sexual seduction, even for voyeuristic delight, can lead to tragic outcomes. I'm here for a serious purpose.

By midnight, the only sounds I could detect coming from the tent was that of someone snoring. I hoped it was Trevor. I heard an owl, and a raccoon scuttling about nearby. When a family of deer tripped the motion sensors on one of the trail cams, I watched on my phone as they cautiously went about their business. Around 2am, I heard the distant huffing of a very large bear. Likely a brown bear, but possible a grizzly. It was probably a mile or more out, but I slid my rifle from its pouch and attached a thermal zoom optic into place. My 300 Win Mag AR rifle was state of the art and would make short work of the bear if it got too close to the tent. I pulled the suppressor for the rifle from my pack and threaded it on. No sense in waking them up if the big predator needed to be dealt with.

Fortunately, Tara had kept their food stores in a canvas duffle at the nearest big Ponderosa pine, suspended by a rope, about 20 feet off the ground, Their clothes were also stored outside the tent. What do ya know, the girl did pay attention to the Venture Scouting leaders.

It was quite a while before I heard the bear, again, this time sounding even further away. I let myself relax a bit, to breathe in the fresh night air and enjoy just swig of Kentucky bourbon from my flask. I was reflecting upon what a nice night it was when the three-mile sensors tripped. I pulled up the first trail cam on my phone, waited to see what was coming down the trail. More deer, perhaps? I waited. No, not deer this time. A dark SUV with several passengers was creeping down the trail, engine idling, lights off. A half-mile from Tara's camp, it stopped. Luckily, they were in my line of sight. I scoped them with my rifle and watched silently as three armed men got out and started toward the tent, one on the trail and one on either side, moving through the trees. A fourth man stayed behind, waiting in the driver's seat of the vehicle. I killed the power to my electronics, so they could not detect any ping from me.

I remained perfectly still, watching as the three slowly came on line with me, then passed by. I waited for them to get a hundred feet down the trail before I started moving forward, heading to a spot that was to their rear but did not put the tent in my line of fire. The lone intruder walking on the trail was guided by some sort of sensor, likely homing in on a cell phone ping in the tent.

At the campsite, the two flankers emerged from the tree line and walked into the clearing, posting as security as the center man closed on the front of the tent, holding his rifle at the ready.

This is when I stopped their game plan. One, two, three; one, two, three; One! Two! Three!

The three men were down. Each by a triple from my suppressed AR rifle. I rushed toward the trail, found a clear line of sight to the SUV, braced against a friendly tree and took out the driver. Now, the suppressor on my AR helps reduce noise and muzzle flash a good deal, but it can only do so much with a supersonic round. Tara and Trevor were awake. I turned and ran for the camp, hoping to get there before the screaming started, but I got there too late. That Trevor kid was quite the screamer. The moon was nearly full and cast considerable light, and when Trevor saw me racing in their direction, a creepy forest monster in a ghillie suit, he ran off, screaming into the woods behind their camp. Tara looked like she would have followed him if she hadn't been paralyzed in terror.

Running into their camp, I pushed back the top of the suit, hoping to show Tara it was me. She shook with disbelief, eyes wide. Hyperventilating, wearing a long Black 'Cold Play' baggie tee shirt.

"Uncle Gabe?" she blurted out a question, still in shock from the motionless bodies that littered the campsite. "Wha, what the;" she glanced around, again. "What the fuck is this?"

"This," I explained, "is why you should always listen to your father. Security teams exist for a reason, Tara, and this;” I rolled over a dead assailant for her to see his blackened face; “is the reason."

I checked the three men for a pulse and found none. Two of them had Latino gang tattoos. The two Hispanics I didn't recognize, but the Caucasian looked familiar. I motioned Tara over. "Sweetie, do you recognize any of these men?" When she looked at the Caucasian, her eyes lit up.

"That's John!" she exclaimed, startled. "John MacIntyre! He's been on my security team for almost a month! I, I; I don't understand! What's going on?" She started to shiver in the cold mountain night breeze, being barefoot and bare-legged.

"Tara, listen to me.” I said as I walked over to the big Ponderosa Tree and untied the ropes, lowering their supplies to the ground. “I need you to calm down, take a few deep breaths and put on some clothing. Then go gather up your boyfriend. Round him up and we'll talk, okay?" Tara nodded, then unzipped the duffle and pulled out her jeans. She slipped on her hikers and ran to find Trevor. I searched the bodies for IDs, found nothing. By the time I had finished taking photos and removed my ghillie suit, Tara returned, pulling a traumatized Trevor in tow. I told them to gather their shit quickly and secure it in the back of Trevor's pickup. "Get packed up, I need to check something and I'll be right back."

Back at my comfy tree, I booted up my electronics, then picked up the drone controller and sent it up. Scanning with infrared, I sent it to follow the trail back as far as its range would allow. Nothing. I brought it back to land near my Jeep. Gathering my gear, I ran to the hit team's SUV, searched for anything that might be a clue as to who these guys were. Nothing, not even a phone. I yanked the dead driver out of the vehicle, got in and started the engine, then drove the vehicle up the trail. I parked it next to Trevor's pickup.

"Everything packed?" I asked as I got out.

Tara nodded, She had a backpack on one shoulder, I saw a bunch of crap thrown hastily in the open back hatch.

Trevor looked like a man who suddenly realized there was shit in his britches.

"Okay, good. Now, we don't have time for twenty questions, so just understand that some very bad people have some very bad plans for you.”

I turned my attention to the boy; “Trevor, you need to get someplace off the grid and hide for a few days. No electronics, or they'll find you. I'd leave all that shit here, if I was you." Trevor nodded and threw his phone into the woods.

"Tara," I said firmly, "you're coming with me." Without argument, she kissed her boyfriend. Then she opened his driver door and said; “Now get your ass in a safe place and don't call me until after you see my face in a live presser, with my dad. Go, she ordered as she slapped her hand on the hood of the vehicle. “Now!”

He made a tight turn around and drove slowly off just as the first signs of impending sunrise emerged.

Tara then picked up her day pack and we walked silently, vigilantly; back to my Jeep.

Once we were well out of the area, I called Jason.

"Are you certain it was John McIntyre?" Jason asked. Tara grabbed my phone, then put it to speakerphone.

"Daddy, it was John," she confirmed. "What the hell was he doing, there, and who were those other guys?"

"Sweetheart, I don't know. I'm going to get an investigation going, just as soon as I get off the phone. Until we know more, I want you to stay with Uncle Gabe, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy. I love you."

"I love you, too, Tara. I need to speak to Gabe, now."

“Jason, I have two pieces of advice. I will code the first. 'Trout master'.

“Yup!” Was Jason's clear confirmation.

“Second, let Defense intelligence handle this. If your own administration is compromised, Assume that your entire state security is needed an outside investigation. Because I'm now in the thick of this, and it has international implications, The Fed's will take over, anyway. But Defense intelligence is less likely to be corrupted by politics.”

It was late morning when we finished the long drive and pulled up to my cabin, nestled in forest at the end of a long dirt driveway. Sunlight shone like glitter on the lake, just West of the property. We got out, stretched our legs, and Tara took it all in with her eyes. She grinned, turned to grab my arm as I came around the Jeep.

"Dang, Uncle Gabe," she beamed, "this is really nice. It's so peaceful. Why is this the first time I'm seeing it?" I drew her in for a long hug and kissed her forehead.

"Well, it's a bit of a drive and your dad never really takes time off."

"Tell me about it. Still, you could have just taken me, you know? Oh, my god! Is that a boat? You got a boat? I so want to go for a ride on it. Can we?" I kissed her forehead, again, and broke the hug.

"We'll take it out, hon," I promised as I moved to the back of the Jeep. "We just need to get these groceries inside and get settled in, first. Give an old man a hand?" Tara followed me and I handed her a couple grocery bags. I loaded up with as many as I could and followed her up the steps to the porch and front door. Watching Tara's ass, and the sway of her hips, only reminded me that Trevor was one lucky son-of-a-bitch who would never be worthy of her affection.

Inside, Tara looked around the cabin, impressed by what she saw. The central room was spacious, with an open floor plan that included the living room, kitchen, dining nook, open pantry, and a massive fireplace that always steals the show. Built of stone and timber, the cabin had several large windows and a high, vaulted ceiling. The back had two bedrooms and a roomy bathroom with a big, walk-in tiled shower. Rustic log furniture was arranged around an area rug, centered to face the fireplace.

"Damn, Gabe, this is gorgeous. I might not want to ever leave."

"Oh," I began, setting the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, "you'll be plenty bored in a day or two, just like everyone else." I looked at Tara and grinned. "No TV."

"Everyone else?" she pressed. "Who is everyone, past girlfriends?"

"No, not really. More like, short-term romantic interests."

Tara chuckled, "So, basically just one night stands and fuck buddies?" I shrugged, not wishing to expand on the topic.

"Pretty much, yeah. Come on, potty-mouth, let's get the Jeep unloaded before I starve to death."

We settled in, putting away the groceries and gear I had brought in. Tara fixed us some sandwiches while I cleaned my AR in the living room. The beers and roast beef sandwiches hit the spot. I started a fire in the fireplace and we spent the afternoon chatting and loafing. Tara proved to be great company, and always kept the conversation interesting. It was the first time that she and I were able to sit and just talk, alone together. It was nice.

"Okay," she began, "so of all the women you've brought here, how many did you have sex with out on your boat?"

"Good lord, girl," I laughed, "you have a smutty mind. Where do you get all these questions?"

"You're being evasive, Uncle Gabe," she scolded. "How many, and if you try to bullshit me you will be punished severely."

"Punished?" I pondered aloud, twisting the cap off a fresh beer. "How so?"

"Ever been kicked in the nuts and ruthlessly tickled, all at the same time?"

"Two," I said without hesitation. "There were two." Nobody wants to get kicked in the nuts while being tickled.

We knocked out our daily beer ration and just enjoyed each other's company. The sun set, the moon rose. Around ten o'clock my phone rang. Jason had flown in the team, our old Army buddies, Kyle, Emmett, and Frank. Kyle and Emmett would be handling th

Avenging the Handmaidens: Part 4

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Sat, 26 Sep 2026 16:23:00 +0000

Avenging the Handmaidens: Part 4

Exposing the Debauchery in Religious Disguise.

By Carole_n_Nice. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

To lead into this story, as a reprise, Chastity has fallen in love with her elderly father. Her sister - in - law has performed a very informal, (yet spiritual), marriage for the two as this type of incest is not allowed. You witnessed the consummation of the marriage and now we go to part three.

The Next Day Aftermath.

The next morning, Prudence and I sat on pillows at the kitchen table and broke fast. Grace had left to take care of both Emily's and her children. Emily made a large breakfast that we ate in silence. We finished clearing the dishes and looked at each other.

"Ok, Last night needs to be discussed," Emily stated. "First off, how did your father let this get so far out of control?

Both Prudence and I shook our heads not knowing.

"This is too strange." This just happened?" "You both get picked for this Eden Conference out of the blue," she went on. "Why?"

I had no clue and I just shook my head again.

I heard my sister Prudence whisper from the side, "I might have said something to Prelate Mathias?"

Both Emily and I looked at her, stunned!

"He kept asking me how things were at home," Prudence continued. "How was our father since the divorce?" "How were you acting, Chastity." "Did I noticed anything different in the house?"

"Oh my blessed mother," I cried! "How could you say anything to the Prelate?"

Emily shook her head visibly shaken. "Sister Prudence you know better than to let the bishops and prelates to have knowledge of our inside family!" "What in Lords sake were you thinking?"

Prudence broke down in tears. "Father spends all his time with you, Chastity." "Even at the family Eden Conference he was with you, not Emily who he rightfully should have been." "It wasn't right!"

"And you told the Prelate that, Prudence?" "Prudence," Emily repeated again at a shout.

My sister just nodded.

Emily kissed Prudence on the cheek and told her not to worry about it. Just go up and get some rest. Prudence kissed me and apologized. She then went up to her room and slept again.

"Emily?" "What are we going to do," I implored her.

She took me by the hand and we went up to my bedroom and laid on the pillow. Emily I think had a fairly good grasp of the danger we were in. Prelate Mathias was a vengeful man and he somehow took slight at something our family had done. In addition, he knew that something was going on between my father and I, (although she didn't think he had figured out that we had married each other). Excommunication was a real possibility. The community owned all the land our houses stood on. If we were excommunicated, we had to vacate the land and the house that stood on it. We would be homeless and probably without employment.

Emily held my hand as we lay on our bed, heads together on my pillow when a loud knocking came on the front door. Both of us jumped up and came out of the bedroom. Prudence was already standing out on the second floor landing, looking frightened to death.

"It is Prelate Mathias and his two grandsons, again."

Emily turned to both of us and told us to hide. She walked down the stairs and opened the door. Upon seeing Prelate Mathias, she curtsied to him and bid the twins good morning.

"Good Morning, Sister Emily," he said pleasantly. "I have come to collect the sisters Chastity and Prudence so that we might finish our Eden Conference from last night." "It wasn't properly consummated and, of course, it continues from vespers of the day until the evening vigil of the next."

Emily nodded unsure if the scriptures he was quoting were correct and said, "My sisters are not here." "I think they went to the Holy One's house in an attempt to see their mother."

The Prelate nodded in understanding. "That is unfortunate because if it is not consummated, I would be bound to commence another twenty four hour period tonight or the next?"

With that, I watched down the stairs as one of the twins whispered into his grandfather's ear. He listened intently and said, "Why of course!"

"Emily, my grandson has properly corrected me and explained the time would not restart if a surrogate were to replace them." "Perhaps you would like to substitute for one of them and maybe another woman?" "Your sister-in-law Grace maybe?"

Hearing this I ran to the window and went onto the second floor roof. I told Prudence to hide and be quiet. I slid down the second floor rain gutter, (something I had not done for several years), and ran around the building to the front of the house.

"Prelate, Emily explained, Sister Grace is watching our children." "I am also certain that many women would be honored to share this moment of atonement with your Grandsons." "However with the late notice they would not be able to give up their household duties that quickly."

"That is unfortunate," the Prelate said.

"Eminence, I am an experienced woman and have attended a dozen or so of these conferences." "Surely I would suffice to satisfy two young men and we could..."

Before Emily finished her sentence, I opened the door and feigned surprise to see the prelate there. I was driven not to have Prudence go through what we had done the last night. I quickly curtsied to him and the twins and thanked them for the honor that they had given me the previous night.

Prelate Mathias smiled and brushed my face. "It is nice to see you daughter Chastity." "I was just asking the whereabouts of your sister Prudence and was explained that she would not be back shortly?"

I nodded.

"Well the Eden Conference is not finished because it was not vaginally consummated last night." "We don't have your sister Prudence here but Emily has volunteered to be her surrogate." "I think we have the required number of people here so we should go to my house."

With that, he took both our hands and led us off the porch and to his car. As he reached the door, he waited, expecting to have his door opened for him. Emily quickly ran around the car and opened the driver's side door.

The Twins stood there looking at me. I swallowed and opened the door for them.

The Prelate started the car and stopped for a moment. "Wait!" "I forget myself!" "I should call your father so that he should finish this most sacred occasion with us."

"No," Emily said! "Father is out of town on business and will not be back before Vespers."

"I see, well maybe I or one of the twins might be able to find a surrogate to fill in for him?"

The Twins just nodded and off we went to the Prelates house. As we drove, the Prelate swerved into the auto shop my brother Thomas worked at. He got out of the car. Without a word, he went to the bay my brother was working in and started to talk to him. My brother listened and looked up, looking at his wife Emily and shaking his head no. After several minutes of discussion, my brother Thomas threw the oily rag he had in his hand on the ground and grimly nodded yes.

Several minutes later, he approached the car. Prelate Mathias turned to me and said, "Chastity, would you be kind enough to open the door for your brother?"

"Yes your Eminence," I stated and scrambled out of the back seat to open the door for my brother.

The prelate started the car and commenced driving towards his house again. After several minutes, he turned and said, "I know we all have had this occasion happen to us without planning." "It would probably be wise to shorten the time spent of consummation as much as much as possible?" "This would allow us to get back to our primary order of raising our families and flock?"

We all nodded willing, no praying to get this over with. The two obese twins squeezing my sister-in-law and me together because they took up most of the back seat to themselves.

"Sisters Emily and Chastity, You may perform your self-stimulation rite in the back seat while I drive."

Thomas immediately flared up, "That would be unseemly to have two women stimulating their vaginas in the back seat of a car while driving in the community, Prelate!"

"Nonsense Elder Thomas!" "You just heard your sister and your wife agree that saving time would be of benefit to everyone."

Emily looked at me and we both knew we had to get this over with. I lifted my skirt up and bunched it around my hips. I reached into my panties and pulled them down my legs. I took them down to my ankles and then kicked them off. Emily did the same with her panties.

"Emily, give your panties to one of the boys to safeguard them while you masturbate," the Prelate dictated.

"Chastity, give your panties to your brother," he nodded to Thomas.

I took my panties and bunched them up in my hand. I reached over the front seat and handed them to my brother.

I spread my legs open slightly and moved my hand reluctantly over my mound. I started to stimulate myself. Emily reached over and grabbed my hand. She squeezed it and we both concentrated on making ourselves wet.

Several minutes later, the Prelate had another idea, "The twins are innocent." "Maybe you should show them how to stimulate a woman so they will know how to do it when they have wives?"

I was bewildered.

Emily leaned over and said, "Watch."

She took the hand of the nearest obese one and moved it between her legs. I watched as he took his finger and moved it along her slit.

"Emily, tell him how to do it and you help also Chastity."

I grabbed the other twins hand and put it between my legs. I opened them more and watched Emily, desperate to mimic her actions. Trying to mimic everything she did.

Emily spread her legs wider open, draping one of them over mine and pulling me open at the same time. She took the hand of the twin removed it from between her legs and kissed his fingers. Sucking them into her mouth. I continued to do exactly as she did.

She turned to both of them, "Watch between our legs." "Look at our intimate places so that you will know how to finger fuck your wives."

I was a little shocked at the language coming from my sister and how graphic she was. The Prelate seemed pleased with her lesson while Thomas just stared out the front window with my panties in his hand.

She took his fingers back into her mouth and got them wet, "Make your wife spread her labia for you," she said as she opened herself up. "Have her wet your fingers like I did so that you will have lubrication on them." "This will place you in your rightful position as in command of her cunt."

She took his fingers and placed them between the opening in her vulva. Spread wide she grasped several fingers and nodded, "Insert two or three fingers inside her." "That way you'll know if the muscles of her pelvis is responding to your stimulation." "Most women respond better if they have some bulk in their pussy." "Two or three fingers inserted inside her will make her go crazy for you."

She took three fingers and placed them inside her pussy. I took Two fingers and moved them inside me. Dreading that I would have to take three.

Emily reached and took his other hand. With the index finger she moved it just below the base of her mound. "Take the tip of your finger and find the hood of her clitoris." "Massage it until it starts to grow under your finger."

"That is it, you have it," Emily gasped!

I did the same thing but I was far behind where Emily was at. I could see her hips thrust upwards against her fingers.

Suddenly, she was screaming, "Oh My Gosh." "No one has ever made me feel this way!" She ground hard against him and screamed, "I'm Coming!" "I Can't Stand It!" "You Are A Stallion!"

I looked up and noticed that the Prelate had pulled over to watch Emily. She had this incredible orgasm. I couldn't believe it. She had a hard time controlling her breathing. My brother turned around and looked her straight in the eye. She looked up at him and they both smiled!?! Oh my gosh, She faked it. She faked having an orgasm! My brother was having a hard time controlling his laughter.

I was not to be outdone! I could put on an award performing performance myself! I arched my back, feeling the obese boy's hard penis pressed between my butt cheeks. I squeezed my legs together and trapped his hand between them. I circled my arm behind me and over his leg and shouted, "Please, allow me to cum, beloved!" "I need to feel your finger inside me." "I... I..."

I pushed my backside against him one more time and screamed out, "I am cumming." "You Make Me Feel More Like A Woman Than I Have Ever Felt Before In My Life!"

All of a sudden, as I finished Act 1, Scene 2, I felt this wet sticky squirt on my back and dripping down the crack of my butt. He came. He ejaculated because I talked to him? He came all sticky on my back and pressed against his fat tummy.

My brother gave me a funny look and looked to the steering wheel. I scooted up on the twin's lap looking like I was trying to get more comfortable and looked to where my brother's eyes were fixed. The Prelate was masturbating!

We drove to the Prelate changed his mind and drove to our community house. It appeared he could no longer wait and this was ten miles closer. He had us clean his grandsons' tummies clean with our tongues. We took up their seed in our mouths as they giggled as if we were tickling them.

When we entered the house, we were led to the great room. Prelate Mathias took a breath and was about to instruct us when my brother Thomas interrupted him.

"I am my father's surrogate." "I will conduct the ceremony Eminence."

The prelate was shocked for a moment but smiled and nodded his agreement.

Thomas turned to us and ordered us to kneel. We both knelt in front of him and assumed our position of prayer.

"Chastity, What are you," he asked?

"I am a Woman, brother." "I created the first sin against our beloved lord and I am responsible for having us exiled from Eden."

He turned to Emily and said, "Wife, what are you?"

"I am a Woman, husband." "I created the first sin against our beloved lord and I am responsible for having us exiled from Eden."

"Wife, as a woman, how will you atone for your sins," he questioned?

"Husband, I will pray daily for our salvation, I will obey you, my ordained Elders and my Father in all things." "I will work for them to be accepted into heaven and I will strive to reach the next step of reincarnated myself and blessed into manhood in my next life."

"Chastity? And you," he asked?

"Brother, I will pray daily for our salvation, I will obey you brother, my ordained elders and my Husband in all things."

He quickly went through our requirements by the covenants and had us stand.

"Chastity?" "Emily?" "You may disrobe."

Emily and I turned to each other. She brushed my cheek and actually kissed me lightly on my lips. "This will be over soon, sister." "It will pass." "Let us make the best of it."

With that she turned me and undressed me. She would not let me take any garments off myself. When she went to ta

Avenging the Handmaidens: Part 3

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Fri, 25 Sep 2026 13:27:00 +0000

Avenging the Handmaidens: Part 3

Father's Bed Needs a Woman.

By Carole_n_Nice. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

My father stood up and smiled at all of us kneeling before him.

"Daughters, what is your duty," father asked?

"To obey you, father," we replied in unison.

"Prudence, Stand!" My sister stood at my father's command and awaited his assignment. My father walked over to her, touched the bonnet on her head and then her cheek. "You will go with your two eldest brothers, Thomas and Mathew."

"Yes, father," She said and knelt at the feet of both of them.

I was shocked that my father would assign her to my older brothers. I thought he would give her to one of them but to have a girl who was still days from her nineteenth birthday to men was shocking. I felt for certain that he would assign both Prudence and I to our two oldest brothers, Grace to our youngest and Emily, Our oldest sister in law to himself.

My father turned to Grace. "Grace, you will serve my beloved son, Luke."

Grace stood up and said, "Thank you, Father." "I will make you proud of me and erase our sins." She then courtseyed to him and went to kneel in front of Luke.

My heart sunk. This left me with my youngest brother, John. Although, I loved him he was a bit of a handful and we all dreaded the thought of being assigned to him. I grit my teeth and waited.

"Prudence!" "Emily!" "Stand daughters!"

We both stood and waited what was ordained to happen. I smiled at Emily, my heart breaking because of not being with my father but bursting with pride that she would rightfully be with our patriarch.

"Emily, you will go with my youngest son, John." "You will serve him well, daughter," he said.

I could see the shock only partially hidden on Emily's face. "Yes, father." "I will please and honor your son As If He Were You."

"Prudence, you will serve me."

I nodded and knelt at his feet. This was a disaster. How could father have made such a bad decision to assign Emily to John? I knelt stunned at my father's feet. I watched as Emily knelt before John and pulled his manhood from his pants. She reached over with amazing dignity and took him into his mouth and started to suck him hard. I felt my father reach for my arm and pull me onto his lap. He was smiling.

I put my arms around him, kissed him on the cheek and whispered to him, "How could you assign our oldest sister to John?" "It is an insult."

He took my chin and forced me to look him straight in the eyes. "Because I want you and after that, it all made sense to me." "Now undress me, Chastity."

I nodded and got off my father's lap. I unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it out of his pants and off his arms. He kissed my lips, his tongue, softly between them and pulled me to him. I bent over to him and trailed my lips to his chest. I kisses his small nipples, using my teeth as he had done to me.

I went to my knees and unbuckled his pants. I unfastened them and pulled them from his legs. My hands hardly had had his pants off and I was reaching with the other one to pull his undershorts down his legs. All thought of Emily had fled from my brain as my wanting my father's cock took over my brain. He sprung free of his underwear and stood in front of my eyes. I started to move towards it to grasp it in my lips and I felt him move me upwards. He shook his head and sat me on his lap. I sat down on him and I he placed his manhood between my legs, the side of his shaft laying against the lips of my vagina.

I felt my father's hand touch my breast and he was kissing me so gently. I cupped my breast for him as I did last week and he took my nipple between his lips. I felt like a Madonna, portrayed by so many artists in the past. He nursed on my small breast and I just closed my eyes, relishing his suckling.

I looked to Prudence to ensure she was alright. She was on her knees with Mathew's penis in her mouth. Mathew was holding her head to him as his hips slipped it in and out of her mouth. My oldest brother Thomas fondled her breast and kissed her back as she serviced Mathew.

Grace was already on her back in a position of self-stimulation. She was preparing herself to be wet for my brother Luke who was between her legs watching her. He widened her legs and smiled down at her. I watched as she reached up and took Luke's cock in her hand and guided my brother to her vagina. Luke penetrated her immediately and Grace wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him into her. I heard her say, "Give me your seed, Brother Luke so I can atone for my sins." Luke pushed into her faster.

Emily was taking John's cock with much dignity and energy.

I turned back to my father's attention. He twisted me in his lap so that I was still sitting on it but my back was towards him. He reached around and was massaging both of my breasts with his hands and kissing the back of my neck. His cock was hardened, between my legs and the top of it pushing against my vagina. I reached down and took the head of it and held it steady as I slid my pussy up against it. Getting it wet as I slid. My eyes closed as I slid myself up and down my father's cock pressing on the outside of my pussy.

I heard a muffled noise. I opened my eyes and quickly looked to Emily as she suppressed another sound of pain. I stared at her and then at my youngest brother John. I couldn't believe it. He was behind Emily and taking his brother's wife anally. He was pushing her hard and I could see she was being hurt.

"Father," I drew his attention to Emily!

When I shouted, everyone looked up and towards the person of my concern. I shot my eyes to my oldest brother Thomas and I could see he had become immediately angry that his wife should be sodomized by his younger brother on this occasion. He started to get up and walk towards John.

"Stop!" My father glared at Thomas and looked towards Emily.

"What is your duty, Daughter," My father turned and asked Emily?

Emily looked up at my father, straining her neck to look high enough after being impaled on my brother's cock, "To obey and atone for my sins, Father." "I am sorry if I have disturbed your pleasure, father." She turned to her husband Thomas and smiled. Then she turned to my brother John and said, "Brother, please take my ass as you will." "Give me your seed hard so that I may atone for my sins."

My brother John, smiled and commenced taking her from behind. I could see the pain on Emily's face but she kept asking for it harder, begging for her sins to be forgiven.

Thomas pulled our sister Prudence from her oral duties with Mathew. He turned her so that she would be facing my father and me on all fours. He took hand lotion and lathered it all over his penis. I watched in horror as he took Prudence by the hips and plunged his cock into her backside. She screamed as he sodomized her and looked directly into my father's eyes.

"Thomas," I heard Emily shout." "You stop that with Prudence or I will never forgive you."

My Brother looked up, pulled out of Prudence and hugged her. He took her between him and Mathew. They just hugged her between them and kept her warm.

My father took me by the hand and pulled me up the stairs. We were heading to his bedroom. I looked back at the carnage left of this Eden Conference. Prudence sobbing between the loving arms of her two oldest brothers, Luke between Graces legs with her begging for him to "fuck her harder," and Emily barely able to stay on her knees from the pain of John fucking her in the ass.

We got into the bedroom and I could not hold my peace. "Father, this was ill thought out and has torn our family apart."

"Chastity, If I wanted you to speak I would have singled so," is all he said. "Now lie down on the bed and open your legs for my cock."

I laid on the bed, sobbing as he kneeled between my legs. He took my knees and bent them so that my feet were flat on the bed.

"Ask for it, Chastity!"

I sniffed and took a breath. "Please fuck me, father."

With that he took his cock and started to fuck me. He pulled my legs around him and I lay there as he pushed inside me. After several minutes, he spent himself inside me. He just lay across my body, crushing me with his weight and fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke without the crushing weight of my father on top of me. My father was already downstairs while my sisters prepared breakfast in silence. I put my robe on and went into the kitchen. When I got down to the kitchen, he called the family together.

I watched as my father started to cry, a broken man that I had never seen before. He apologized to each of us for last night. He explained how the loss of my mother had disturbed him and he wasn't thinking right. He scolded John for his willingness to not only hurt his brother but to physically hurt his brother's wife. He kissed Prudence because of the pain he caused. To Emily, he got on his knees and begged forgiveness.

Emily got on her knees with him, silently prayed for a moment and said, "Father, I have no forgiveness to give you because you have done nothing to me that would warrant it." "It is I who has sinned in Eden and that is what the conference is for, so I may atone."

With that, she stood up and helped my father to his feet. She took the belt of her robe and untied it. She slipped the robe of her shoulder and stood nude in front of him. "I beg your forgiveness, father." "I want to atone for it as I should of last night."

Emily clasped her hand in my fathers and turned him towards the stairs. As she passed me, she also grasped my hands and said, "You will join us Sister Chastity," and to the rest she said, "Please break your fast." "We will be a while," and she took us up the stairs.

Emily took us upstairs and closed the door. I stood in silence as she undressed him and had him lay on the bed. She came to me, kissed me lightly on the lips and reached for the belt on my robe. She unfastened it and took it off my shoulders and stood me naked in front of her. She pulled me to her and hugged me, leaning down to kiss me. She walked me to the bed, sat me down next to my father and reached underneath my chin. She undid my bonnet and looked at me.

"I am young but I am not a fool, Chastity." "I have eyes."

She finished removing my bonnet and laid me next to my father. She lay next to my father on the other side and took his penis in her hand. He stroked it until is started to respond. My father took my breast in his hand and massaged my nipples. Emily cupped one of my breast in her free hand and fed it to my father. My father sucked the nipple, doing that soft scrape thing with his teeth that drove me crazy. I watched as she left my father with my breast and moved down and took him into her mouth.

My father groaned as she stimulated him. I pushed him back on the bed and kissed his tummy. Emily saw me sliding down and pulled me between his legs. She licked the head of my father's cock and sucked on it, finally holding it for me to take in my mouth. I took my father's head between my lips and sucked on it. I could feel him start to grow even harder. His hips starting to move into me.

Emily took my father out of my mouth and kissed the head of it herself. She stretched me out on the bed. Her hand cupping one of my breasts and kissing the nipple. She look at my father and me.

"I can see how much she is in love with you, father, and you with her." "I don't know how we hide this because you will be excommunicated if a Bishop finds out." "We can do much in this church but not marry a daughter."

With that, she put her hand between my legs and touched my wetness. "Sister, you can never have a wedding so this is the best I can ever do for you."

She said a silent prayer as her finger traced around my clit. Then she kissed me full on the lips, took my father and placed him between my legs.

"Sister, Chastity," she intoned, "This is your husband." "Open your legs and take his seed as you are want to do."

With that, she took my father's cock and placed it between my legs. He pushed my father into me so that I would take him. I caught my breath as he entered me and swirled my legs around his hips, arching myself to take him.

She bent over and kissed my father than me. She lay down next to me and took my hand. She kissed my hand, then held it. My father was fully in me and she whispered to me, "Chastity, say it."

I smiled back at her and looked up into my father's eyes. "Husband," I said, "give me your seed."

She reached over and kissed him, "Father, fuck your new bride."

With that I opened my legs fully and my husband came deeply inside me.

I will repeat a list of characters in the first two parts because I have introduced quite a few in a short page span.

Dramatis Personae
Chastity (18)
Prudence - Chastity's Sister (Now 19)
Enos - Chastity's Father (60)
Barbara - Chastity's Mother and recently divorced wife of Enos (46)
Thomas - Chastity's Brother (26)
Emily - Thomas' Wife (25)
Mathew - Chastity's Brother (25)
Grace - Mathew's wife (22)
Luke - Chastity's Brother (23)
John - Chastity's Brother (21)
"The Holy One" - Highest Prelate of the Church and Barbara's new second husband
Prelate Mathias - High Officer of the Church
Evangeline - Wife of Mathias and Saint of the Church
Augustine - Chastity's Uncle and Brother of Enos

The next morning:

I woke the next morning with the sun bursting through the windows and in peace. I had slept so well the night before. I looked over at my father, laying peacefully next to me and I nuzzled myself against him, taking his arm around my waist to make a perfect spoon. I closed my eyes again for a few moments and must have fallen asleep.

I awoke feeling my father's cock hard and pushing between my cheeks. His hips giving me a soft nudging wake up. I reached my arm behind me and grasped his hips with my small hand. I pulled him up against me and felt the warmth of his arms as he enveloped my body.

"Chastity," are you awake?

I chuckled and bit a smile from my lip and said, "Yes, Husband, I am awake."

"I love you, Chastity."

"I love you also, Husband," I said as I pushed myself against his hard cock.

I felt his breath on the back of my neck, a combination muffled yawn and an exhale of passion. He pushed my head forward and licked the back of my neck with his tongue. Electricity kind of shot down my spine as his kisses seemed to explode on my spinal column. He reached around me and cupped my small breasts in each of his massive hands. He softly made my nipples hard as he ran them through his fingers, squeezing them lightly between them.

I felt him take my top leg as I lay sideways and pull it back over his leg. He pulled my hips more to him making our spoon position have a serious bend in it. I felt him move his penis between my legs and I reached down between mine. I took his cock in my hand and guided it to my vagina. When I had the tip of it in, I reached behind again to urge him forward. He took my hips and pulled me back onto his penis.

I closed my eyes as he entered me fully. I was wet from the minute I woke up and needed none of his ministrations to be able to receive him. I pushed myself backwards against him and let him take me.

"I love you, Husband." "Take me fully," I said.

My father whispered into my ear, "Tell me, Chastity."

"Fuck me, Husband." "Take your child bride and give me your seed." "Give me a baby." "Push your cock and your love deep into my tummy."

I felt him kiss my ear and push himself deeper inside me. I could feel him grow inside me. His urgent push to keep impaled.

Avenging the Handmaidens: Part 2

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Thu, 24 Sep 2026 14:13:00 +0000

Avenging the Handmaidens: Part 2

Chastity draws the attention of the Council of Twelve.

By Carole_n_Nice. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Prudence and I were at a loss on what was going on. My Mother knew. With great dignity she walked to the crucifix with the wooden man's penis embedded in it and stepped on a small stool. She stepped over it, her legs straddling the cross and took a deep breath. She slowly impaled herself on the wooden penis. I could see her biting her lip and closing her eyelids as she pushed herself down onto it.

My sister and I just looked at her as Ste. Evangeline pulled her down on top of the cross and tied her hands spread across the arm lengths. My mother was pushed over on a cross that had a penis embedded inside her and tied arm spread to the cross sides.

Ste. Evangeline began to take an evergreen branch and commence to spank my mother with it, causing deep red marks across her. My mother started to say her forgiveness prayers.

I heard a sound, paying no attention to it until Prudence shook me to pay attention. I looked up and one of the Prelates restated his demand. My sister and I were to strip and offer ourselves to the Holy One! Both of us looked at each other in amazement at this great honor. Could he even do anything at 92? I blinked past my sacrilegious thought and felt my sister turn me away from her so she could unbutton my dress. When she finished, I unbuttoned hers, also.

I took my dress down from my shoulders and dropped it to the floor. I was still somewhat shy but I looked at prudence who had already removed her shift. I quickly reached down and pulled my shift over my head. I caught my breath for a second, while I stood in my bra and bloomer panties. Prudence had already cleared her clothing from her body. I felt someone reaching and unfastening my bra and turned my head to see Prudence working hurriedly.

She bent to my ear and said, "We are in the Council of Twelve." "We must hurry!"

I nodded and reached into the waist band of my panties and pulled them down off my legs. My sister grasped my hand as we stood in front of the Council of 12, naked. I heard the swish of branches and a gasp... Remembering my mother was getting spanked by Ste. Evangeline. Her rear end was red and swollen from the evergreen branches penetrating her skin.

One of the Prelates came up to my sister Prudence and pulled her away with him. I looked up and saw the "Holy One" beckon to me so as to sit beside him. I moved over to the elderly man and he patted the seat. I sat down, nodded and acknowledged him, "Your Eminence."

He smiled at me and said, "We must have an anointing ceremony for your mother firsts." "After that, you will have to take me in your mouth." He smiled and with a wink said, "I haven't given seed to anyone in twelve years." "You just need to suck on it and I'll fake the rest." "This will not be difficult for you."

I nodded. I heard a door open and a very big man dressed to be a bull entered. He snorted and mounted the cross in front of my mother. His penis was huge.

Two of the prelates came to each side of my mother while Ste. Evangeline continued to whip her with the evergreen branches. I was getting nervous that my mother would be permanently scarred when one of the prelates raised his hand and called for prayer. My sister, who was doing one of the Prelate's orally, immediately took the penis from her mouth. She assumed the prayer position. I dropped onto my knees and did the same. The Prelate on her left side of my mother anointed her with oil on her forehead and each of her buttocks. When he had finished, the other one sprinkled holy water over her and gave her a baptismal blessing.

When they had finished, a man dressed as a bull entered the room. Our baptismal fonts all have a large bull built over them. They represent fertility and the hope of atonement in heaven. The man in the bull costume straddled the cross and presented his penis to my mother's mouth. She prayed a moment and then took his penis inside her mouth. Sliding up and down on it with her lips. I heard a sigh and the holy one was beside my ear, "It is time sister Chastity."

I nodded and fell to my knees. I unbuckled his belt and fumbled with his button on the pants he wore. I finally got them undone, unzipped, and pulled his pants down off his legs. I reached into underwear and took out his cock. It was very large but lay flaccid in my hand. I licked around its head and took him into my mouth. His hand stroked my head affectionately, He was large, I thought, within my limited knowledge base. I sucked him into my mouth with very limited results.

I could hear my mother groaning and the sound of the swish as she was still spanked by Ste. Evangeline. I couldn't see her and had no idea if she was being hurt. I stayed on my knees and sucked the Holy One's penis. Slowly, I felt some movement from it as it seemed to get more firm. I took both of my hands and held him as I licked the bottom of his shaft. I could feel his hand redirect my head back onto his penis and I sucked the head back into my mouth. I moved my hand up and down his length as I sucked him harder.

"Put your finger inside me, Child," I heard him whisper.

I wet my finegr with my tongue and moved it between the cheeks of his rear. My middle finger explored between the cheeks looking for his hole. He adjusted his hips so I could move inside him. My finger slowly pressed into him and I could feel him start to move onto my finger. He slowly started rocking onto my finger as it plunged fully into him.

I could feel him becoming hard in my mouth as my finger copulated with his butt. He was actually becoming very hard and I could hear him start to moan as he pressed my mouth onto him. I realized that I had the Holy One in my mouth and that he was hard for the first time in over a decade.

I heard him order, "Put a pillow under her stomach!"

I was unsure who he was talking about but he pushed me away from his swollen penis and I semi fell into a sitting position. I watched as this ninety two (92) year old man straddled the cross behind my mother. He lifted her hips higher on the pillow that was under her stomach and entered her vagina from the rear. My mother immediately screamed in pleasure. I never heard my mother scream so loudly. He pushed himself deeper into my mother and rutted with her as I had seen animals on the farm do. Suddenly, he stood higher, and pushed his hips deeper inside my mother. He moaned as he pulled my mother towards him.

My mother closed her eyes, and moaned, "Please, Holy One." "Please I beg you to fuck me with your anointed cock," my mother begged." "Holy One!" "I'm coming!" "Blessed one... I'm Coming!"

I remember there was a blinding flash. We all saw it and I think were rendered unconscious by it. When I came too, we were all disoriented. My mother seemed to be in a trance on the cross. The Holy One was the only one with his wits about him.

He stood up and simply said, "I have given this woman my seed." "We have business to do."

With that the remaining eleven Prelates followed him into the conclave room.

We untied my mother from the prone cross that she was on. She still seemed to be outside herself. Prudence and I dressed my mother and called my father to take us home. He arrived and helped us to get mother into his car. We explained to my Father what had happened and he just nodded. I don't know if he understood it, feared it, or was mystified by it.

My mother remained in this state. She would sing and say prayers. She did no housework, cook or greet any of us. She constantly pleasant but not with us. Prudence and I bathed and fed her. She ate little but enough to sustain her.

Sunday before services, Prelate Mathias came to our door. He talked to my father and gathered the rest of our family. He explained to us that the Council of Twelve had pronounced a vision and published an edict to implement the vision.

The vision stated that my mother had been impregnated by the Holy One, (who had not been with seed for twelve years since his blessed wife died at the age of eighty). I thought it was miraculous because my mother had not conceived since I was inside her 18 years ago! The Edict ordained that my father's marriage was annulled by decree, that my mother was now the wife of the Holy One and that she would be sainted after the birth of the child.

We all stood stunned. I looked for my mother but she had left. The front door slammed and we all turned. My mother was walking down the road with a walking stick. Walking the twenty miles to the Holy One's modest home. She was singing with a smile on her face.

My name is Chastity. I'm 18 years old and live in a large religious community on the Arizona-Utah border in the United States. Our religious community considers ourselves to be Christians but most main stream religions view us as a sect at best.

Our main difference from the more standard religions is that we believe Eve was the first person to inhabit our earth in the Garden of Eden. She copulated with God and out of that union was born Adam. Sometime afterward, she also copulated with her son, Adam. Adam was the forbidden fruit, (Not an apple). Adam and Eve were exiled from Eden because of incest between the mother and her son. The Original sin that was committed by Eve was the seduction of her son.

I am a small, petite girl, (5'1" 102 lbs. and 32a bust). I dress as all my sisters dress. A plain dress, (black, blue, grey of sometimes a small flowered pattern for special occasions). Our dresses normally fall midway between our knees and ankles. We wear a white starched apron and a fabric bonnet that lays on the hair and ties under the chin. The bonnet is sacred and mandated for all women of purity. It must be worn at all times in the presence of any man except one's husband.

I live with a family of six siblings, (four brothers, a sister, and myself).

I am the youngest at eighteen.

My sister Prudence is also eighteen but ten months older than I am.

My brothers range in age from

Thomas (26),

Mathew (25),

Luke (23) and

John (21).

My father is 60 and

my mother is 46

My Mother left us four weeks ago. She was divorced from my father by decree of the Disciples of Twelve. My mother is now six weeks pregnant and rumor says she is already showing. The talk of our community is the miracle brought about by the ordained coupling of my mother with our leader, "The Holy One," who fertilized my mother at the age of 92. They are now married.

My father has been devastated by the loss of his wife. He knows that this is the best for our community but struggles inwardly with it. My sister Prudence and I spend more time with him than normal. It is our hope that he will soon be able to leave this grieving period and start to search for a new wife.

This Sunday morning is unusual. I went to church with my father alone. My father has granted permission to two of my youngest brothers to take Prudence to Salt Lake for the weekend. My oldest two brothers, Thomas and Mathew, are married and have family of their own. They stayed within the compound with their families. I greet my sister in laws with a chaste kiss on the cheek. I genuflected to my brothers as is expected of women who are inside the church. My sisters in laws and I go to the women's section of the seating and hold hands in prayer during services.

During testimony, my father stands to lay witness for testimony. He gives a heart wrenching testimony to his doubts created by my mother's ordained divorce. He talked about the children she bore him, his love for her and his struggle to accept the will of God. He finally admitted with heavy heart he had accepted this. The men in the congregation looked on hard faced that a man would show this kind of weakness for a woman. The woman, bowed their heads and many hid tears from their men folk, struck in sorrow by my father's words.

After services, we all went to Mathew's house for a large afternoon feast. I helped my sister in laws with corn and fried chicken. My father fell asleep under the silver ash, at peace for once. I played with the nieces and nephews most of the afternoon. I noticed that my brothers had slipped off with their wives for what we call, "Sunday afternoon" prayers. I think gentiles call it a "nooner."

As it turned five that afternoon, my father awoke and my brothers returned with their wives. We prepared to leave and were given a basket of left overs for our dinner. We all hugged and kissed each other as we said our goodbyes.

My father turned to my sister in laws, smiled and said, "Did you enjoy your Sunday afternoon prayers?"

I almost spit out the water I was sipping on in laughter. My sister in laws blushed deeply which even made it that much more funny. My brothers chuckled to themselves. Both my sisters genuflected to my father. A courtesy nor required outside of the church. It was a great honor they did to him and the gesture was not lost on my good father. He placed his hand on both of their heads and blessed them.

We got home to a quiet house. My father sat on the couch and read his Sunday paper. I went upstairs and changed into my night dress and robe. I came back and made my father lemonade with an extraordinary amount of ice in it, just the way he liked it. He thanked me and I sat down on the couch with my knitting.

Moments later I felt my father sit next to me on the couch. I smiled up at him and asked if he needed anything. He just shook his head no and I went back to my knitting. Several minutes went by and I looked up at him again. I felt he had been staring at me.

"Father?" I questioned?

"How old are you Chastity?"

"Well, I can do the complicated math which means you were forty two (42) when you got my mother pregnant with me and she was thirty (30)." "That would make me eighteen (18)." "The same age I was just over two months ago at my baptismal Eden Conference," I smiled teasingly.

He looked back at me and simply said, "I miss your mother." "I never realized what it would be like without her."

I put my knitting down, went over to him and kissed his cheek. He put his arm around me and pulled me to his shoulder. I closed my eyes and snuggled up to him.

"Father," I said, "I can help with some of the loneliness."

He shook his head.

"Father, you have the right." "All you have to do is call an Eden Conference and you can have me." "You can have Prudence if you like!"

"I don't want Prudence," is all he said.

I felt him pull me on his lap and pull my head onto his other shoulder. He stroked my cheek with his big rough hands. I looked up into his eyes and he stared directly back at me. I felt his lips lower to mine and softly kiss me. I had never been kissed like that before.

He pulled my head towards him again, his

Avenging the Handmaidens: Part 1

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Wed, 23 Sep 2026 13:10:00 +0000

Avenging the Handmaidens: Part 1

A story about religion, a young girl and original sin.

By Carole_n_Nice. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Our main difference from the more standard religions is that we believe;

Eve was the first person to inhabit our earth in the Garden of Eden.
She copulated with God and out of that union was born Adam.
Sometime afterward, she also copulated with her son, Adam. Adam was the forbidden fruit, (Not an apple).
Adam and Eve were exiled from Eden because of incest between the mother and her son.
The Original sin that was committed by Eve was the seduction of her son.

Within our religious group, we can go to heaven by serving a penalty.

Women are on the lowest rung of our social caste because it is our fault for being thrown out of Eden in the first place. If we do well in the immediate life, we come back as men. If we do well as a man, then we are allowed into Heaven. You can also go to heaven, (even if you are a woman), if you are awarded sainthood. This is very seldom done.

There are three ranks of hierarchy within our church, (only men are allowed ranking).

Elder, (the basic priesthood open to all men 18 and older).
Bishop would be in charge of a group of members of about 200 families.
Prelate, there are only twelve prelates. The religion allows polygamy for Bishops and Prelates.

I am a small, petite girl, (5'1" 102 lbs. and a 32-A bust). I dress as all my sisters dress; a plain dress, (black, blue, grey of sometimes a small flowered pattern for special occasions). Our dresses normally fall midway between our knees and ankles. We wear a white starched apron and a fabric bonnet that lays on the hair and ties under the chin. The bonnet is sacred and mandated for all women of purity. It must be worn at all times in the presence of any man except one's husband.

I live with a family of six siblings, (four brothers, a sister, and myself). I am the youngest at eighteen. My sister Prudence is also eighteen but ten months older than I am. My brothers range in age from Thomas (26), Mathew (25), Luke (23) and John (21). My father is 60 and my mother is 46.

Chastity’s First Eden Rites

On my eighteenth birthday, my mother gathered my sister and me for my "First Eden Rites." We follow her into my mother's bedroom and kneel to say our prayers. After about 15 minutes of prayers, my mother calls us to our feet and starts my oral exam to ensure that I am schooled and an appropriate Catechumen.

"Chastity, What are you?"

I nervously take a breath. I've study our bible for years and can recite it by heart. I'm still nervous but I know I'll pass.

"I am a Woman, mother."
"I created the first sin against our beloved lord and I am responsible for having us exiled from Eden."

"Chastity, as a woman, how will you atone for your sins?"

"Mother,

I will pray daily for our salvation, I will obey my husband, my ordained Elders and my Father in all things."
"I will work for them to be accepted into heaven and I will strive to reach the next step of reincarnated manhood."

My mother smiled at me and said, "What is the Doctrine and Covenants of the Eden Conference?"

I, in great detail, explain the Doctrine and Covenants of the Eden Conference.

"Because women are sinners, we must obey men,"
"Because we believe in the sisterhood and the privilege of polygamy,"
"Often times there will not be enough women to be wives to all our ordained elders,"
"The Eden Conference may be called by my father, husband or an ordained Bishop, so that men may relieve themselves with us sinners."
"I am to do all things required of me during the Eden Conference and display my love for our Lord through unquestioning obedience."

"Chastity," my mother said, "and what will happen tonight?"

"My father will call my first Eden Conference with men of his choosing." "I will be accompanied by you into the conference and I will make you proud of me," I smile to my mother.

At this point my mother has us kneel and pray again. About thirty minutes later, my final training session will begin. After prayers, my sister and I go to our closet and get our "Oral Sticks." These are smooth wooden sculptures that are shaped like a man's penis, (My sister assures me that they are quite realistic looking as I have never actually seen a man undressed.) We use these "oral sticks" as a learning tool so that we might satisfy a man with our mouths.

I follow my sister's lead and take the stick into my mouth. I lick the head of it so that it glistens with my saliva. I take it tighter in my hand and I push it in and out of my mouth to simulate a man taking his pleasure inside my mouth. I suck along the shaft of the stick, ensuring my teeth never touch the smooth wood and that my lips create a suction that is supposed to stimulate a man. My mother holds a bag to the bottom of the wooden penis. I lick the two suspended balls and pump the penis with my hand as I do so.

"You will do well, Chastity." "Prudence, you have been through this and have enough experience." "If you wish to leave and finish your chores, you may."

My sister looks at me with questioning eyes. I know she wants to be there for me but it really isn't necessary. If I am not ready for this day by now, I never will be. I just nod to her that she may take her leave.

"Thank you, Mother." Prudence puts her oral stick back and leaves for her chores.

"Chastity, it is getting late." "You need to bathe and put on your Acceptance Dress." "Let us practice your self-stimulation so that you will be prepared when a man enters you." "Just do it with your dress on so we can prepare you."

I nod at my mother and go to the bed. Pushing myself up to the pillows, I lay down. I reach for my long skirts and pull them up over my hips. I put my fingers into the waist band of my bloomer panties and pull them down off my legs. I bend my legs at the knees and open my legs. My hand travels across my lower tummy, below my bunched up skirt and across my mound. I open my lips and use my digit finger to find my clitoris. My finger moves across it and then underneath, Stimulating myself. My palm presses against my mound and my hips involuntarily push upward against it. I take my middle finger and lightly insert inside my vagina. My juices wet its tip showing I can make a man's way easy for him. My mother nods at me.

"Daughter Chastity, you know how to do this." "This is not for your pleasure but for that of a man." "We need to go and have you shave down there so that you look like the virgin you are, and bath." "It is time for final preparation."

My mother leads me to the bathroom. I am surprised that my sister has already drawn me a scented bath and left the shaving tools on top of a towel by the sink. I pick up the razor and my hand shakes. My mother laughs and grabs it from me.

"I think you had better let me do the shaving." "I expect you will have enough blood between your legs after the Eden Conference," she says with a smile. "We don't need you to slice yourself up so that you need stitches."

My mother washes me with hot water, first. She takes soap and applies it all over my mound and commences to shave what little hair that I have on my vagina, off. She repeats the hot water and soap several times before she has me completely bald. I have to admit it feels funny.

I jump into the tub, scented with some lilac oil. My mother washes me. I am scrubbed from head to toe and it feels wonderful.

Finally, it is time. My mother towels me down, and brushes my hair out. She helps me put my bloomer panties on and a very plain white bra. I help her with the dress being placed over my head, and turn for her to button the back. I look in the mirror and I am in perfectly white dress. My mom ties my apron on, hands me a bonnet that I tie under my chin and I'm ready.

As we walk to the room where the Eden conference will take place, I start to get nervous again. "Mother, do you know who or how many will attend the Eden Conference," I ask.

My mother shakes her head. "I don't know, really." "Your father had four at Prudence's ceremony." "I had five at mine." "When your father and I got married, I was 19 and he was 33." "His father was a Bishop and ordered an Eden Conference for our wedding night." "There were only three that night, the Bishop being one of them." "Your father loves you above all, much to his disgrace, but he does." "You are small so I suspect he will keep it to no more than three."

I nodded and reached the latch on the door where the Eden Conference would occur. As the door opened, I bent my head to the floor and dropped to my knees.

"What do you wish, Daughter," I heard my father say.

"I wish to cleanse the conference of my sins with my body, Father, and to go onto the next level in the next life," I replied.

"And what will you do in order to achieve this?"

"I will obey you in all things, Father, and do you honor."

He nodded and told me to raise my head. I raised my head and scanned the room. There were three men in the room, My Father, My Uncle Augustine and Prelate Matthias. My father brought a Prelate to my Eden conference! This was a great honor to our family. Prelate Matthias was 82, married with three wives over a life time. He had outlived two of them. His current wife, Sister Evangeline was the first living woman to be sainted in the last fifty years. This was a great honor indeed.

"Daughter Chastity, you may take your clothes off for us," my father said.

My mother immediately stepped behind me to assist with the many buttons on the back of my dress. She first removed my apron and folded it on the table. I then felt the buttons on my back being unfastened. After a moment, the garment was ready to be removed. My mother slipped it off my shoulders and down my arms. As my dress reached the bottom of my feet, I stepped out of it and my mother pulled it away. I stood in front of three men, in my bra, bloomer panties and bonnet.

My father cleared his throat indicating to my mother that she should finish. I felt her unhook my bra strap and pull it down along my arms. My breast were free, small but free, in front of three men. Being stared at for the first time in my young life.

I felt my Mother reach for my panties and a small, old voice interrupting. In an almost squeaky voice, Prelate Matthias said, "Let her take off her own sin protective," referring to my panties.

I nodded, reached for my waist band and pulled my panties down my legs. I kicked my panties off and stood modestly, my hands covering my vagina. I looked at my father and Uncle. I could see they wanted to please the Prelate. There was lots of benefits to this honor.

The Prelate turned to my father, looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Have her take off her bonnet."

My mother gasped. I was in shock. This was a disaster. Only a husband would normally tell his wife to uncloak her hair. It was meant for a night of debauchery which was not something we embraced as a religion. I stood there and just shook my head "NO"

My mother shouted out and stood in front of me, "NO! This is not for anyone but Chastity's husband."

My father slammed his hand down on his desk. "SILENCE." "Who are you two sinners to dictate to a Prelate, what can be done!" "This is a holy man and you two are just whores that got all of us thrown out of Eden." "You, WOMAN," looking at my mother, "will remove her bonnet and stop insulting us!"

My mother moved in front of me. We both looked at each other with tears in our eyes. She kissed me on my lips, whispered, "I love you." And untied my bonnet. She took the piece of fabric off my head and brushed my hair over my shoulders with her hands. I tried to control myself from crying. My Mother just comforted me and said, "Quiet, it is only but a hat."

I nodded, my tears dropping on my breast. This was supposed to be a joyous day. A day I joined the congregation but instead, I've been force to remove my bonnet. To declare I am but a whore? This is beyond what our covenants demand.

I stood there nude in front of them. I watched my own father, almost in tears from the embarrassment of his daughter forced to remove her bonnet. I could not read my uncles face but the Prelate? His face was joyous!

My father broke the silence. "Take the position in front of his holiness, the prelate."

I walked over to this holy man. I got on my knees and assume the position of prayer and supplication. Prelate Matthias gestured for me to remove his pants. I took his belt and unfastened it. I undid his pants button and pulled his zipper down. I tugged at his baggy pants and got them down his legs and off. He had a pair of religious undergarments on that were satiny and came down to his knees. I wrestled them off his wide hips and pulled them free. I saw a man's penis for the first time in my life. It was standing firm and pulsed involuntarily every so often.

"Sister Chastity, you may stimulate me orally," I heard him say.

I reached over and grabbed his cock as I had been taught. I took it in my mouth and let my tongue flow over it. I tasted a bit of saltiness of his pre cum on the tip of my tongue. He pushed harder on my head and I took him full into my mouth fully; my lips sucking on him as I moved up and down on his shaft.

Looking down at me, Prelate Mathias asked, "Why are you sucking on my cock?"

I stopped for a moment, looked up at him and repea

Young Bride: Given In Marriage.

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Tue, 22 Sep 2026 06:57:00 +0000

Cecily is a young woman who will get married.

by Lady_Mary. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Chapter 1

I grew up in a very conservative family. My father was the boss in the family business, which was created by his father, which was my grandfather. My mother took care of the house and the children, whatever else she wanted to do the approval had to be given by my father. A wife was to be her husband’s adornment and calling card; I, my sisters and brothers were brought up with this motto.

Cecily? Father is calling you. I was pulled out of the activity by the voice of one of the brothers, Arthur.

I am on my way. I nod as I put my knitting aside. I run it over the fabric of my blue dress a few times to smooth it out and present myself impeccably in front of my father.

My father was a traditionalist. Together with our mother they took care of our impeccable dress. Especially the girls. Our dresses, because that was all we could wear, usually reached our ankles or mid-calf. Anything shorter was inappropriate. Tights were also compulsory. My family believed that ladies from good homes should always have them.

I nod in respect as I enter my father’s study. He sits in his swivel leather-covered chair, looking as perfect as ever in his suit trousers and white shirt, ironed by my mother.

He said in a cordial tone, indicating a chair for me to sit down, then said; “Mother praises you immensely, you have become a great help to her. I am extremely pleased about that.”

“ Thank you, Father. Praise always makes me happy.” I said with a smile.

“Therefore,” Father puts the stack of papers aside. “I thought you were mature enough to think about your household”.

“My household?” I repeated in surprise. I felt my face turn white.

“This is what awaits every woman. I thought my mother and I had instilled this in you all.” The man walks around the desk and sits on its edge almost beside me so that he can brush his fingertips against my cheeks. “You are our great pride. You will be the same for your husband. Lucky him.”

“So… who will it be?” I ask timidly.

“You will find out in time. You will like it. Of that I am certain.” Father blinks one eyelid at me. “First the engagement and a few… procedures involved.”

“Procedures?” I asked.

“Your mother will prepare you. You have nothing to fear. Well… That is all. You may return to your duties, my child.”

“Thank you, father.” I bow my head before I leave my father’s office.

My preparations for the nuptials began almost immediately… although I did not know to whom I would be married. I also still didn’t know anything about the procedures I was to go through and my father had mentioned them.

“The doctor will be with you shortly, lie still, my lady.” The maid instructed me.

In fact, there was nothing wrong with me, but it was necessary for the engagement to be announced. That is what mother and one of my brothers said.

So I was fulfilling a commitment. I lay in my huge bed, dressed in something like a nightdress, but much shorter than a standard one, for here the linen material ended above my knee.

I didn’t wait too long as the door to my room soon opened. I saw a man with blonde hair and at first sight he was two heads taller than me.

He placed his brown leather bag on the table that was next to the bed.

“Lady Cecily? I’m doctor Mason. I am here to confirm your readiness for the sacrament of marriage. I understand that this is your first examination of this kind, but I assure you that you have nothing to fear.” The young doctor sent me a weak smile. “ At first, I ask you to move down toward the base of the bed and spread your legs.”

“What? “ I could not believe what I had just heard. Red was on my cheeks almost immediately.

“Lady Cecily. It would be far better for yourself to do it voluntarily. Neither of us wants it to be unpleasant, do we?” he warned.

I obediently move down and spread my thighs. I seek solace in looking at the ceiling of my bedroom. It was decorated with hierubines that were supposed to watch over the cleanliness and good conduct of the girls.

“Wider. Lady Cecily, I will have to say a word to your father and husband-to-be. None of them will be pleased.”

“Excuse me… I never… “ I’m at a loss for words, but I spread my legs as he asks me. This contributes to the material of the garment falling up over my stomach and the man can now see my femininity.

“It’s very nice…” I feel the touch of a stranger’s single fingers on me. In a place so carefully hidden. The blonde man takes a seat on the stool between my legs. “I can see the hymen. It is not too thin That’s good. Your spouse will be pleased with this gift. Are you sinning?”

“Am I sinning?” I ask almost in a whisper.

“Have you ever touched yourself in a sinful way? In places… that you shouldn’t have? Don’t lie. I’m a representative of the church. God listens and can punish.”

“No, no, never! I swear.” I plead terrified, but almost immediately I let out a shrill scream. I feel something inside me.

“Relax, it’s a good sign… Your husband will have something to work on.” I watch as the doctor slides one of his fingers out of the copper. “With God’s Grace, you will not be a less fruitful woman than your mother. Undress.”

I untied the 3 bows on the front of the shirt without protest. I didn’t want my future spouse to think I was a troublemaker. I am far from it. I rose to a sitting position when asked to do so.

“Considerable for such a young person, but very nice. 85d to my eye.” He affirms, squeezing both my breasts in his hand, which makes me squeal. “Sensitive… Your husband will be really happy. Have you eaten anything since yesterday?”

“No, my mother told me not to eat anything after breakfast yesterday. The test could give bad results.”

I look up as the man walks away towards his leather bag. He looks for something for a moment.

“You have a wise mother. Kneel down politely on the floor.”

I do so, but first I throw on and tie my petticoat. I see the doctor smile but say nothing for a long moment. He takes slow steps towards me with something shiny in his hand, but I can’t see what it is.

“Open your mouth wide.” he ordered.

I do so immediately and unexpectedly the doctor stuffs something into my mouth, sort of like a bite block that a dentist might use, and ties it at the back of my head. My mouth opens even wider, which causes a slight pain.

“Take it easy. Put your hands behind your back and let them stay there.” The man sighs somewhat amused. “Now listen to me carefully. We must see how much you can take… it’s very important.”

Take? I understood absolutely nothing. I wanted to talk to the man, but my mouth was opened by some metal. I could not form anything into words. I kneel impatiently as the man walks towards his bag again and firmly presses something to the wall mirror. I am unable to see it for a long moment. Then at last I see it! I have heard about this… but a long time ago I put it out of my mind. Wives had to please their husbands in many ways when they were pregnant, often doing it with their mouths, wrapping their lips tightly around the penis to please the man. The doctor came to me and helped me to stand up, leading me to a kind of test where I knelt down again, facing the mirror.

“I know that the lesson programme for female marriage preparation talks about this. However, I understand that you may have forgotten. What you see is a dildo. Silicone. Here on the side.” He points his finger to the right side of the tool. Numbers appear every few centimetres.

“This will tell us what level you are starting from. Hence the spider gag in your mouth so you can get the best possible result.”

I look at the man, at the reproduction of the male penis. It is so big and thick… I can’t take it. Indeed, it’s a good thing I haven’t eaten anything… although my stomach is starting to hurt just thinking about it.

“Go ahead. I won’t finish this visit until you take.”

I squeeze my hands together behind my back and slowly slide the dildo into my mouth. I start to choke when I feel it at the starting point of my throat and almost immediately pull my head back, causing me to cough and my eyes fill with tears.

“Try again,” he orders.

“I ca ca.” I want to say I can’t make it, but I can’t form any words and all doctor can hear is sobbing.

“Take it easy. Many young women fail to do this properly.” The doctor kneels beside me. “I’ll push your head and hold it for a while Okay? This might hurt a little.”

I nod in acknowledgement that I agree, although the truth is that he didn’t need my consent. I felt his large but gentle hands sink into my brown curly hair and after a moment he pushed my head without indicating. I’m running out of air, so my hands are almost immediately on the wall to push back. My saliva flows out of my mouth onto the floor and mixes with my tears. Soon the push subsides and I gasp loudly for air.

“10 centimetres. Perfect for a start, young lady.” I feel him unbuckle the strap from the spider gag on the back of my head and pull out the dildo.

“In the face of everything, I can confirm that you can marry. You can stand up, Lady Cecily.”

Although I was still a little stunned, a smile appeared on my face. My parents will be proud, especially my father.

“Thank you doctor and… I apologize for my behaviour.”

“Nothing has happened. Fortunately, you turned out to be as obedient as you are said to be.” The man hides the instruments in his bag and pulls out a notebook. “You bleed regularly, according to your mother… The only thing I can recommend is vitamins. This will help in creating a family and in bringing new life into this world.” He speaks confidently and writes down on a piece of paper, which he seals at the end. “God bless you, young bride.”

I say goodbye to the doctor, and immediately after him mother enters the chambers, before whom I bow as I did before my father to pay my respects.

“The doctor has praised you. Father is delighted. So is your fiancé.”

“Who is it? My fiancé?”

“Daughter… These things only happen at the altar.” She says amused by my question, which I could ask several times a day. “Now you must be clothed and this must go back to its place.” She points to my belt, my virginity belt.

I have worn this attribute of maturity since I started menstruating. This has happened to every young woman in our faith. Without it, we might have sinned and tarnished the honour of the family, thus derailing any chance of a favourable marriage. It was locked with a key, and this was put in father’s possession. On the wedding day it will be given to my husband.

“Do married women… have to wear it too, mother?” I ask as she helps me put it on and then locks it.

“Depends on their husbands. When they are in a blessed state, they usually don’t, at least in the later stages of pregnancy.”

I look at my mother. She was only 36 years old and pregnant, another fruit of my parents’ marriage. My mother has never been without a child for more than 2 years. My parents believed that procreation was the purpose for which God created man and woman. They fulfilled it scrupulously. The Church also had this as the highest value of human life, especially of a woman.

“Your underwear needs to be replaced. This one is too childish for a married woman.” mother says. “The same with your dresses… but here your spouse will have a word.”

“I will put on your corset. A young married woman has no right to hunch over.” Mother pulls out my white Victorian-style corset from the wardrobe, to which I obediently allow myself to adorn and tie it, even though it was an uncomfortable piece of clothing.

“Can it be a little looser, please?”

“Wait a minute. You will soon get used to it. Look here, my dear.” I turn to the mirror & see my image. No one dreams of such a waist.

I smile because I would be lying if I didn’t like seeing how small I can be at this point on my body.

“Will my sister Elizabeth be coming to my nuptials?”

“It is hard to say. She is expecting a baby. It is a delicate time for a woman. You will see for yourself soon enough.”

A woman puts a white dress with embroidered sunflowers on me. My shoulders were prominent, so I was a bit surprised by this choice by my parent. However, I immediately understood that this little boldness was meant to imply that I was expecting the wedding. Exactly. Wedding!

“So when? When will it happen?” I ask.

“In a few days… Our faith wants a girl to become a woman on her fertile days, preferably on those… the most important ones. Yours is coming.”

For days afterwards, preparations were underway for the big event. The family and the servants were preparing for my wedding.

My belongings were packed, although most of my clothes remained. I was assured that a wardrobe tailor-made for a married woman awaited me in my new home. Mostly my cosmetics, bedding and a small collection of jewelry were completed.

I was obliged to go to bed early. Like a younger sibling, I was supposed to be in bed by 8.30 p.m. already. All this so that I would not be a tired bride. I was also taught the art of make-up and made sure my body was smooth. Husbands did not tolerate unnecessary hair.

“Lady Cecily, a box for you.” a servant said from the hall.

“A box? At this hour?” I ask surprised when the maid puts the box on my bed. It was of considerable size and wrapped in cobalt ribbon. I have never received a package before bedtime. “Thank you. You may go.” I had just come out of the bath wearing my robe and my belt was off for the bath.

I waited until I was alone and with great excitement began to open… a gift? I guess you could call it that. I took a deep breath and lifted the lid.

My God… what… white lace underwear appeared before my eyes. I took one part, which was supposed to be panties, but… it didn’t cover anything.

Only after a while did I see a small card. I take it in my hands with a trembling heart.

“Hello My Spouse-to-be. I’m sure you’re surprised by the contents of the package. Consider it a gift for the night that will make us soon married.”

“I will be extremely pleased to see you in it. I believe that you care about pleasing your husband.”

“Nevertheless, I know that you are a woman undefiled in deed or word. But I want to let you have a taste of the married life. I’ve discussed this with your parents, so you don’t have to worry about me tarnishing your good name.”

“At the bottom of the packet is something like an egg and a gel. I would like you to moisten your womanhood and gently insert the egg as deep as you can, my doll… ”

I lifted the full material of my underwear and pulled out a pink ball from under it. It did indeed look like a small egg. I took a deep breath and placed a few drops of gel on my fingers. I opened my legs and this opened up my womanhood. I rubbed some of the gel in, but thought it might be worth doing with the toy itself. I breathed deeply to relax and do the job properly. I moaned several times, feeling my hole being expanded and trying to swallow I took a piece of paper in my hands to read the rest of the letter.

“ Once you’ve done that, put on your belt. We don’t want a sinful moment to come over you. Give the key back to your maid who is waiting outside the door.”

“Then take your phone and call the number below…”

“Your future husband”

I was extremely uncomfortable in something inside. I was taking big steps, and it was apparently going to stay in me for an unknown amount of time. After putting on my virgin belt, I handed over the key to the maid who was indeed waiting outside the door

I sat on the bed, but this position was uncomfortable and I did much better when I lay down. I picked up the phone and with my thoughts swirling I called the number indicated. I did not wait long, because the call was answered.

“Um… hello? Lady Cecily?” I heard a warm male tone. Nice one.
I’ve been waiting for your call. So I believe you did what I asked for?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Okay.. so we can start.”

“Start wha, ah, ah!” I screamed as I felt some vibrations in my womb, but almost immediately closed my mouth with one hand and the vibrations stopped.

“ What’s wrong, doll?” I heard the man’s amusement. “Forgive me. Apparently that’s too much to start with. I want you to lie down politely. Relaxed and closed eyes.”

I felt the vibrations again, but were much softer. But I couldn’t help but sigh.

They grew stronger every moment, and that made my breathing heavy. I felt the muscles in my lower abdomen tighten and the tension grew.

“Oh My…” I sigh loudly, but then the vibration stops. “What? why…”

“You need to rest, little doll. I cannot let you reach the pinnacle of pleasure. It awaits you only in our life together.”

“It was wonderful. Thank you… what’s your name?”

“You’ll find out soon. Now go to sleep as a good girl.” He said, then hung up. I experienced something like this for the first time… and it’s not the end, apparently. So, the life of a married woman… was also pleasurable?

by Lady_Mary for Literotica

Oktoberfest In South Germany

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Tue, 22 Sep 2026 01:11:00 +0000

Beautiful German Girl at the Munich October-fest.

By Stonemarten, Listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories.

One of my favorite things in the World is beautiful women dressed in their dirndls, which is the traditional, female dress of Bavaria and Austria. The women look amazing in their dirndls with pushed-up breasts showing ample cleavage, whereas guys in lederhosen look a bit silly really, sorry lads.

Anyway, on with the story. Even though I was on my own at the festival, people are generally very friendly and merry at Oktoberfest, so it’s not too hard to join in with folk from all nationalities. I was with a group of lads from Australia, the States and some fellow Brits all trying to chat-up the incredibly beautiful German women, all looking fabulous in their dresses. They really seemed to enjoy the attention of the guys, smiling and laughing at our terrible jokes, but I guess a few liters of festival strength beer might have fueled that positive interaction.

At one stage in the evening, I spotted a lovely, slender, blue-eyed girl with long, straight brown hair standing alone in a corner. She was wearing a fine quality dirndl of a burgundy satin skirt and a sage-green, laced bodice pushing-up pert little tanned breasts. She looked so pretty, but sadly she seemed to be crying. Like many guys, I have a soft spot and protective feeling for girls who are crying, so I approached her gently, excusing myself and asking in a sensitive tone if she needed any help. She had ceased crying and gave me a weak smile, so I invited her to join our group, which I was sure would cheer her up, as we were on very good form.

The young woman’s name was Lilly and it was great luck finding her for she turned-out to be delightful company. Lilly was a student at the University of Heidelberg and had come to Oktoberfest with a friend, who had sadly abandoned her for a boy, leaving her alone and naturally unhappy. I was determined to look after her and keep her entertained so she would forget her troubles.

The drink was flowing freely and so was the fun, as folk started to stand on tables in the beer hall sinking steins of beer straight down-in-one to the cheers of the crowd. At the encouragement of my companions and after having boasted of drinking a “yard” of beer at home, I too climbed onto our table and to the bellow of the crowd proceeded to down a liter of beer, turning the stein upside down over my head as proof it was empty. Feeling very manly and proud of myself, I gave an enthusiastic Lilly a hug and a kiss on the lips.

Lilly may have been slight, but she was made of strong stuff, as she too climbed onto the table with her stein and to our surprise and to a huge roar from the crowd, proceeded to sink her beer in such a smooth and efficient manner that this would have impressed even a fat builder down the pub. I kind of fell in love with Lilly at that moment, as any girl that can do that will always have a special place in my heart.

Soon Lilly and I were kissing and cuddling, somewhat rudely for public consumption since we were both very drunk. I put my strong arms around her and she held onto me tightly as we walked back to the little flat that I had rented. I bought a couple of flowers from a stall to put in her hair, which made her look so cute and as pretty as a picture.

When we had entered the cozy, warm flat, we proceeded to the sofa, snogging passionately. We were both kissing and stroking each other’s adoring faces, my hands then fondling the lovely round globes that had been teasing me all evening from above her tight-laced dress. Soon my other hand had worked up under her skirt and was rubbing her moistening slit through silky panties. Lilly began to moan and reached to stroke my swelling cock trapped uncomfortably in my trousers.

I moved my head down to Lilly’s pert boobs, releasing them gently from her dirndl and sucking on them with my mouth wide open, my tongue flicking her stiff little nipples. Pulling panties aside allowed my fingers to stroke her pussy lips, rubbing rapidly to and fro over her engorged clit, causing Lilly to arch her back and groan as she approached her first orgasm. Within a minute or so, this gorgeous girl was writhing and spasming as she came on my probing fingers.

We both undressed, admiring each other’s firm bodies as we did so. Lilly slid her hands down my muscular frame and dropped onto her knees to envelop the head of my stiff cock into her mouth, whilst stroking up and down the thick shaft. My knees almost buckled at the pleasure of it and I stroked her face lovingly, as she looked up at me with wide, lustful eyes.

I could not hold back for long and so with balls rising and pressure building to bursting point, I spurted my seed into Lilly’s mouth, onto her pretty face and then my last drops of pearly spunk sprinkling onto small, tanned boobs. This longed for release had me groaning manfully and gently cupping Lilly’s approving face.

Lilly went to the bathroom and I lay down to recover my strength. When the lovely, slender girl returned, she laid back on the soft couch and opened her legs to allow easy access for my tongue to her very wet pussy. Lapping at her lips and darting my tongue over her love-bud soon had her mewling like a cat and clutching my head between her thighs. Probing in and out her with my tongue like a little wet cock, whilst flicking her sensitive clit lightly from side to side with my thumb, soon had her twisting and turning in a second huge orgasm.

Laying back with my big cock pointing obscenely into the air was all the invitation Lilly needed to hop on board. Facing me, she eased down slowly, impaling her tight pussy onto my prick, moaning as she did so. Her mouth gaped in ecstasy as she bobbed up and down, my hands holding her soft bottom and I could hardly take my eyes from her lovely boobs jiggling away.

Picking Lilly up and standing, I continued to pump, much to her delight, as I turned around to place her on her back, thighs wide apart, so I could continue to thrust deeply in the missionary position. I loved seeing the pleasure on her face and hearing her high-pitched yelps as I ploughed into this beautiful little creature.

The pace of our lovemaking became faster and faster and more desperate at the coming explosion. Bodies slammed against one another, balls smacking against swollen lips making wet slapping sounds as we screwed like beasts. There was no holding back and with a great cry, suddenly it came, spunk splashing out in hot white streams coating the insides of a grasping and welcoming pussy which itself was contracting rhythmically in orgasm.

Lying next to each other, we kissed and cuddled, then slowly drifted off to sleep. Later in the morning, we ate bread rolls for breakfast and then went back to bed for we both had terrible hangovers from a day and night of partying.
It was a sad feeling when Lilly finally left that day to re-join her disloyal friend for the journey back to Heidelberg, as our fun and erotic acquaintance might have been short, but that beautiful girl had surely become one of the great lovers in my life.

The mountains of Bavaria are one of my favorite places, great for walking and watching nature, which are my main hobbies. A few years ago I drove across Europe in my Jeep to stay at an Alpine chalet with the aim of finding some Edelweiss flowers and watching Chamois, which are rare mountain goats. Both of these species live high on the tops which meant strenuous climbing up into the snow zone. It’s such good exercise that German Alpine troops are encouraged to scale the mountains to find Edelweiss as proof of their fitness and courage. They used to pick them for their lapels, but today these are actually quite rare flowers and now a protected species.

As I was in Bavaria in September time, I also booked accommodation in Munich in order to attend the famous Oktoberfest; yes, I know, it actually takes place in September, rather than October for some odd reason. If you have never been to the Oktoberfest, I would strongly recommend it at least once in a lifetime, as it’s an amazing party. If you don’t like crowds then it might not be for you, but if you enjoy quaffing large steins of beer, scoffing bratwurst and watching the colorful spectacle of folk dressed-up traditional costumes, you would love it.
by Stonemarten, for Literotica

A Virgin Brit On A Holiday: Part 2

steamystories.podcast@gmail.com (dawkinsblog@gmail.com) — Sun, 20 Sep 2026 21:13:00 +0000

A Virgin Brit On A Holiday: Part 2

The Busty Truckdriver in 1960s France.

By Slowandeasy47. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

The bigger adventure now began. School finished and college not starting until October, two and a half months to find out as much as I could about life and have some serious fun.

I had started my long break by visiting my Tante Marise in her French chateau. She had taught me a lot, and introduced me to the joys of assisted showering, a pleasure that I have enjoyed throughout my life. As a French lady, she saw my typical Brit uptightness about human sexuality, and helped me about as much as a proper relative is allowed to.

Where to go next and what to do had been the two big questions. In the 1960s travel to far off lands was not really one of my options, so I decided to head for the beaches of the northern Spanish Mediterranian coast, commonly called the Riviera. Here I could live cheaply, enjoy the weather and get a proper sun tan.

Travel by air, with a tour company, was way outside my budget, but a friend had given me his hints and tips for hitch hiking long distances and now, I was in northern France planning an 800 mile hitchhike to Barcelona, or actually anywhere nearby.

Barcelona had the attraction of being in a straight line from my starting point at Tante Marise's and the direct route was via only two roads so, with a bit of luck maybe, just maybe, only one or two changes of lift.

My first lift was a little disappointing as it didn't even get me to Paris but the driver was pleasant enough and chatty. I supposed that life on the road could be pretty lonely and he was enjoying the company.

My next was more fruitful. It was a familiar-looking British lorry which pulled up with a hiss of airbrakes and the driver, being on the rightside door as all U K vehicles are situated; directed me round to the passenger side. To us Brits, everyone else was, of course, on the wrong side, now that we were in France.

As the passenger door swung open a cheery female voice from the depths of the cab hailed me with,

"Hop in sweetheart."

I grabbed the handrail, put my foot on the step, and swung myself & my duffle in.

"Where you off to then?" She enquired as I stowed my bag under my legs & settled myself into the seat.

"Barcelona, or somewhere near there." I replied, taking stock of my new surroundings. My chauffeur was very obviously female, if the voice hadn't give her away the sight of her jiggly bust certainly did. She wore her bleached blond hair somewhat short, her tee-shirt somewhat tight around the rocking tits, and faded denim cutoffs. I guessed she was about thirty and she had a cheeky impish grin.

"So 'ow long you going for?"

"I don't have to be back until October to start university classes."

"Blimey, nice work if you can get it!" and she shot me a smile that formed alluring dimples on her cheeks.

“Speaking of work,” I ventured a question.. “You’re the first female trucker I’ve ever encountered? How’s that working out?”

“My pop owns the truckline, so when they had a driver shortage, I made my pitch and showed him how well I handle a rig.”

“How’d you learn?” I asked.

“Most of my teen years were spent working the weekend freight dock, and on the slow shifts I’d practice driving when no one was around.” She explained.

The next several hundred kilometers passed in getting to know each other. Gilly was her name. She loved life on the road, often did the same runs up and down through France, knew all the best stops and frequently picked up hitchhikers for the chat and to pass the hours.

"So off for the three-S holiday are we?"

"The three S?" I said quizzically.

"Yep, the three S. Do you know you can tell someone’s age by their three esses?"

"Sorry, I'm not with you."

"Right I'll tell you, you just complete the third S with the first thing that comes into your head, OK?"

"OK!"

"Sun, sea and?"

"Sand!"

This reply was met with about the dirtiest sounding laugh I have ever heard in my life!

"OK, you're about eight years old! Sun sea and sand!" More laughter, "Let's try again. Sun, sea and?"

"Sangria?"

"Getting better, much better, but still not there. One more try."

I am now getting nervous. The only other S I can think of is sex and I was certainly not going to say that out loud to this lady I'd only just met. She's good company and I don't want to get put out in the middle of nowhere.

"Sun sea and?" Came the question again. My mind was racing for an escape route and I suddenly found it.

"How many letters?" She took one hand off the wheel and started turning her fingers down one by one as she counted.

"Eight." Phew, so it wasn't sex. You cannot believe how relieved I was that I hadn't said it, but eight? I racked my brains, but even sangria was only seven.

"I Give up." I admitted. Her reply stunned my into silence. I could hardly believe my ears.

"Shagging! Shagging of course. Sun, sea, and shagging. Isn't that why all you students head for the Costas?" My week mumblings were incoherent and never meant to be heard anyway. Gilly, with the ashen blond hair, tight T shirt and filthy laugh had just said 'Shagging'!

"Come on now." She said placing one hand on my knee for a few seconds and flashing me her beguiling smile, dimples and all. "Don't tell me I'm wrong.”

"Look, I bet you a quid that I'd find johnnies in your ruck sack? But I'm not giving you the quid unless you let me check. There are johnnies in your pack aren't there?"

This was getting out of hand. This busty & fit lady had just put her hand on my knee, flashed me a smile and boxed me into a corner.

"You win." I said reluctantly.

"Knew it. Sun, sea and shagging! Well a good looking lad like you shouldn't have much trouble feasting on the roast chicken beaches." Again, the smile with the dimples.

"Roast chicken beaches?" I wanted to know what she meant but didn't want to appear as naive as I was.

"Yea, you know. All those bikini-clad girls sunbathing all day and, like a roast chicken, yet all the best bits are white!" Another pat on the knee accompanied by a chortle or two of that dirty laugh.

"That is unless you go to Playa Mar Bella, where every one is the same colour all over because they don't wear anything."

I am now having trouble controlling the cinema in my head. Nudist beaches, I hadn't even thought about that. I had only ever seen one naked woman in my life and the pictures floating through my mind were starting to cause problems in my trousers. On a nudist beach I would certainly get an erection and what to do then?

"I think I'd better stick to normal beaches." I muttered weakly.

"Not sure you could cope with all those naked bums and tits, eh? I have to say it's a bit of a surprise the first time." The first time? Is Gilly telling me she goes to nudist beaches? Displays those magnificent tits to the world, not to mention her pussy. Shit, I must stop thinking about Gilly naked, it's getting difficult. A few more miles rolled past.

"OK, time for a game of Truth or Dare. Obviously the dares are going to be limited but if you don't want to answer you just pay a forfeit. You start."

I can only remember the key questions. We started off simply enough just asking slightly more probing questions than you would in normal conversation when she asked me.

"Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What's the most embarrassing moment of your life?" Shit! I thought.

"Do I have to answer."

"Of course, that's the game, unless you want to pay a forfeit and my forfeits are quite challenging."

"Well, a couple of years ago I barged in to my parent's bedroom. They were both naked, on top of the bed and 'doing it'."

The dirty laugh just got dirtier, "I bet that put them off their stride. Shit, embarrassing all round. OK, your turn, I'll go for truth."

"What body part are you most proud of?" Expecting an evasive answer.

"My tits of course! Aren't they great? You've hardly taken your eyes off them for the last hundred miles. My turn. Where did you loose your virginity."

"Um, er, well, er......"

"Are you trying to say it hasn't happened yet?"

"Er yes."

"Jeepers, cooped up in a cab for hundreds of miles with a virgin. No wonder you can't take your eyes of my tits! Your go."

"How old were you when you first had sex?"

"Oh that's easy. Old enough to know better, young enough not to care!" More dirty laughter, "It was at my birthday party, the night I became 'old enough to know better'. There was a boy I'd fancied for ages, we'd snogged before, but I took him up to my room. My turn. If you were a girl for a day what would you do?"

I was getting much more comfortable with the company of this wonderful woman. She was so open and seemed so worldly wise. Before I could really think of the answer my mouth said.

"Find a nice boy and take him up to my room."

"Great answer! He was fun, but very inexperienced. It didn't last long. He got the Johnny on, put it in, moved up and down a couple of times and made a noise that left me in no doubt that it was all over. Not exactly the Karma Sutra but it got the job done."

I can hardly believe my ears. This woman had just described her first sexual experience to me without batting an eye lid. The sixties were definitely a liberating decade.

Then we pulled off the road to a Routier. Parked up in a diagonal line with lots of other lorries.

"That's it for today. Let's eat."

We walked over to the building and as I followed her I couldn't help but notice how the tight denim cutoff shorts clung to her very alluring bum, which wobbled in a truly delightful way. Her trucker’s wallet flapped around, protruding from her right butt pocket.

They served delicious food, at a fixed price, with a glass of wine and I noticed with relief that they also had rooms also at very reasonable prices. After the meal I got up and walked towards reception.

"Where are you off to?"

"Get a room."

"Well, if you want to save some money and you promise to be good, you can kip down in the cab. It'll be cosy, but cheap. I get the bunk, but the seats all fold forwards and you can put your mat across them. Your decision."

I must have looked like a goldfish gasping for air. This very attractive lady with stunning tits and an attractive bum, comfortable enough in her own skin to talk freely about sex to a lad she'd never met, was offering to let me share her cab. I was very naive back then!

We made use of the facilities and went back to the cab to natter and find some tunes on the radio. Eventually it was time to call it a day and I spread my camping mat over the folded down seat backs.

She got into her bunk and with all the curtains drawn it was pitch dark. I could hear her getting settled for the night so I took advantage of the darkness and slipped out of my trousers and T shirt. I couldn't help but wonder if she had done the same and was now lying just a few feet away with those magnificent tits unencumbered by a bra. I had to stop thinking like this because I could feel my cock swelling.

She was right, it was cosy. It was also blooming uncomfortable, compared to a real bed, but then again it was cheap.

"Comfy over there?" She asked. I tried to sound convincing but obviously failed.

"We did some Truth earlier, but not much Dare." Said the voice in the dark. So here's my first Dare, I dare you to come over here and get a bit more comfortable."

What! I was being invited to the bunk. I told you I was na ve.

"Seriously?"

"Yes seriously, that's the dare; and the forfeit is to take all your clothes off and run round the truck three times."

Not much of a choice really. I wriggled over to the bunk and under her duvet. It didn't take me long to discover that she was totally naked. First my arm accidentally brushed her tits and in trying to move it to a less embarrassing location discovered she wasn't wearing panties either.

"Well, big boy, now you know. I'm naked and you've promised to be good, so get rid of your pants, grab a johnny and show me just how good you can be."

The penny finally dropped. Fuck, was this really happening? Was I about to loose my virginity? I hadn't had to try out my new chat up lines or make any other effort and now I was in a pitch dark cab with a somewhat older woman, naked, telling me to get a johnny on.

After much fumbling in my bag I managed to find the condoms and roll one on to my rigid cock. She sensed I was ready and pulled me gently on top of her, one hand found my, now fully erect, virgin, cock and guided it towards her entrance.

No boy ever forgets the first time his cock slides into a real live pussy. I don't know what I was expecting, but certainly not the slippery, wonderfully welcoming, sensation as all the nerves in my cock started screaming at the same time. Once she had me fully in, she held me close and whispered in my ear.

"Just stay still, don't try to move."

I felt her push up from under me as she forced herself against my cock a couple of times: I could take it no more. I shot my bolt and filled the condom. I came like I'd never never cum before. The whole experience was erotic beyond my wildest dreams, but it was over so quickly.

"Sorry, uh, sorry. I'm so sorry." I stammered realising it hadn't been much of a success for her.

"Shush. Shush." She held me tightly to her magnificent tits as my cock shrank slowly back out of her. I hadn't even handled her tits yet and here I was, spent.

"I tried to tell you earlier that it's always a bit quick the first time. There's plenty of time, besides you'll remember this moment for the rest of your life and there is something special about fucking a virgin, I really felt it when you came, every single lovely pulse."

I disposed of the condom and we chatted some more while she stroked me gently. Normally, after an orgasm, I was satisfied for the night. If I was feeling particularly horny I could have another one in about half an hour or so and so it was with the actual act of fucking. She had me stiff and ready to go again after just a few minutes of stroking.

"This time," she said, "no johnny. I want you to feel what a real fuck feels like. I'm on the new birth control pill: Ionly got you to use one earlier to slow you down. This time we are going bare back and you have promised to be good."

She clamped her mouth over my lips, her tongue sought out mine, my new erection found its own way into her. This time it was much slower and the slippery sensation was even greater. I had time to fondle her breasts, feel the magnificent sensation of my cock sliding gently in and out of her without the barrier of the condom. If this wasn't heaven it was pretty close. It still didn't take all that long and when she ran her fingernails over my bum it was the final straw: I shot my bolt for the second time.

We fell asleep and the next thing we knew was the sound of a revving engines as the earliest departures headed off. We went into the building, had a coffee and croissant for breakfast and hit the road.

"My load is all chemicals and I'm actually taking it to Barcelona. So I can take you all the way." She said slowly with a wink and mischievous smile. I was beginning to understand this lady.

We chatted as she drove and learned a lot about each other's lives. I still couldn't take my eyes off her sizable jiggling tits and every time I thought about the previous evening I started to get another erection. She seemed to enjoy getting me worked up with her risqu conversation. She talked so freely about sex, as though it might have been the weather.

We arrived at the Zona Franca, the big industrial area near the port and wandered around in the sunshine while she was waiting for the unloading.

"I've still got a few dares up my sleeve if you fancy staying with me tonight. It's a cheap hotel but better than the cab."

The answer was a foregone conclusion. After another reasonable meal we made our way to the hotel. It was very close to the port and most of the truckers stayed there, as I was to discover much to my embarrassment.

"Hi Gilly, brought your other son with you, have ya?"

"Fuck off, Jacko, you're only jealous." As she raised a finger in salute. "Besides he can do all night what it would take you all night to do!" And placing her clenched fist over her crotch flicked her first finger straight out mimicking an explosive erection and gave a burst of that dirty laugh.

We settled into the room, clean and reasonably comfortable, without being in any way posh.

"Time to get rid of the road dirt." And she headed for the shower. "Come on then I'm not sleeping with you stinking! Get your kit off." She pulled her T shirt over her head and her tits swung free and she undid the belt on her denim shorts. "Chop chop."

I was still processing the information. We were going to shower together! I wasn't going to miss the opportunity.

My eyes feasted on her tits, her cute little bum, the forest of curly hair that tried unsuccessfully to hide her cleft. Where to look? My eyes ran riot, tits, bum, pubes and that valley, I couldn't take my eyes off that valley. By the time I got my pants off I had another stonking erection.

We got into the shower and soaped each other all over, and I mean all over. If her tits were a feast for the eyes and a joy to touch, they were ecstasy to soap. I savoured every second. She got me to soap her bum which was an equally erotic experience and then she directed my hand down to her pubes. This was another sensational experience and I was amazed at how easily my finger slid into her. By now my cock was throbbing and I was doing my best not to touch it, knowing what would happen if I did.

She then approached me from the front, with a hand full of soap, slid one hand under my balls and pulled my foreskin back with the other. This was only going to end one way, and in the very near future. I felt myself at the point of no return as she slid her soapy hand up and down the length of my cock.

The inevitable happened. My cock jerked in her hand several times and I shot my cum all over her stomach. I was about to apologise when she spoke.

"OK, wow! The express has just left, so now we can take the slow train." She leant forward and kissed me passionately and then washed my cum off her belly. "Time to dry off."

Hang on a moment, so this was all part of her plan? I may have been learning fast, but I was still na ve.

After toweling each other dry we went and lay on the bed. She encouraged me to explore her body, guiding my hand to her most sensitive parts and allowing me to slide a finger in that delightfully slippery divide between her legs. There’s no forgetting the first woman who lets you roam about, investigating her naked body. My cock however only recovered slowly, that is until she slid down my body and kissed it.

I had never heard of this before and she sensed my apprehension.

"Just relax and go with it!" These were the last words I heard before she sucked my cock gently into her mouth. I know now about blow jobs, but then? No way! Never even heard of it, but my cock understood exactly what was happening. It quickly came to attention again.

"Girls like this too, you know," She said pointedly, as she slid back up to my side. "They really like it." By now I had woken up enough to take the hint and slid down the bed. I emerged between her knees and had my first ever close up view of a cunt. Lovely, sexy, pink lipped, bl