index


Message-ID: <51349asstr$1118128201@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Al Steiner" <do_not_resuscitate_ever@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Overcome by Lust by Al Steiner (FM) 2/2
Lines: 1397
Date: Tue,  7 Jun 2005 03:10:01 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Overcome by Lust

By Al Steiner



Chapter 2





Kyle's family was not quite as devout in their worship of The Lord as the 
Isaacson family, and did not actually attend church every single Sunday. 
They had pretty much degenerated to the point where they only attended on 
special days such as Easter and Christmas (and, truth be told, they had been 
prone to missing one or the other of those in recent years). What this meant 
was that Kyle was still sound asleep at 8:30 the next morning, the only day 
of the week he could linger in bed as long as he pleased.



The ringing of his cellular phone awakened him perhaps two hours sooner than 
he would have regained consciousness naturally. His eyes opened and his hand 
shot out from beneath the covers, groping across his nightstand, nearly 
knocking over his alarm clock before finally finding it. He pushed the 
 "talk" button with his thumb without even bothering to look at the screen 
and see who was calling him.



"Yeah?" he grunted, unsure if he was even talking into the mouthpiece or 
not.



"Kyle?" whispered the voice of Samantha. "Oh, my God, the worst thing has 
happened."



This served to wake him up considerably. They had never had intercourse, so 
she could not be pregnant, so there was only one other possible worst thing 
she could be talking about. "Your parents found out about last night?" he 
asked slowly.



"My mom did," she whispered to him. "She knows everything."



A burst of adrenaline went shooting through his body. "Everything?" he 
squeaked. "You mean. everything?"



"Yes," she said. "She found a ripped button on my blouse when she was going 
through the laundry last night. And then. and then. she found. you know. a 
stain."



"I thought you cleaned it off with the ginger ale," he nearly accused.



"I did," she said, somewhat defensively. "But there was another one on the 
leg of my pantyhose. And there was. well. a smell to the pantyhose. The 
smell of lust, my mother called it."



"Holy shit," he said softly, adrenaline now flooding him. The last vestiges 
of sleep left like a rat from a sinking ship. "What did you tell her? Did 
you come up with something?"



She paused for a while, almost long enough for him to think the connection 
had been dropped. Finally, she said, "I told her the truth."



He couldn't believe his ears. She had told her the truth? The truth? Was she 
insane? Teenagers never told their parents the freaking truth! He was unsure 
how to even respond to her.



She seemed to sense this. "I'm sorry," she said. "I had to. She knew, Kyle. 
She knew!"



"Jesus, Sam."



"Don't take the Lord's name in vain," she barked at him. "I had to confess 
my sins to her. It's the first step in repentance."



"Repentance? Holy Christ, Sam. You."



"Stop taking the Lord's name in vain," she nearly yelled this time, tears in 
her voice. "You're only making it worse."



He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself, trying to figure out how 
to deal with a girl in the midst of religious mania. "Okay," he said at 
last. "So she knows. What did she do about it? Did she. you know. tell your 
father?"



"Not yet," Samantha said. "She said she hasn't decided on that yet. She said 
she has to pray on it first, to let the Heavenly Father guide her."



Kyle couldn't help but roll his eyes upward. Of all the girls in the world 
to hook up with, he had to pick the one from a family of religious whack 
jobs. "So while she's praying on it, what happens? Are you grounded? Did she 
forbid you from seeing me?"



"No, nothing like that yet," she said. "After she heard me tell what had 
happened she asked. you know. a bunch of questions."



"A bunch of questions?"



"To get. uh. the details about what we did."



"Jesus," Kyle whispered, letting his head slump down.



Samantha let his blasphemy pass this time.



"Anyway, after that, she told me she was going to pray on it and then sent 
me to bed. She hasn't said a thing to me yet this morning but I can tell 
something's strange about her. She's staying home from church today and she 
never does that. She told Dad she was feeling a little under the weather."



"Well, at least she hasn't told him yet," he offered weakly.



"Yeah. yet," she said. "Listen, I have to go now. We're gonna be leaving for 
church in a few minutes. I just wanted to let you know what happened."



"Okay," he said. "Thanks, Samantha. And no matter what happens, I still 
liked what we did last night."



She didn't return his sentiment. She simply told him goodbye and broke the 
connection.



He set his phone back down and lay back on the bed, his head reeling. "What 
a fuckin' mess," he said.



*****



Twenty minutes later, he was still laying there, staring up at the ceiling, 
trying to come to grips with everything that had happened in the past twelve 
hours. What would Samantha's mother do? What would happen if she told 
Samantha's dad? What would happen if they told his parents? While their 
reaction would probably not be quite as extreme as the Isaacson's, his mom 
and dad would be considerably less than thrilled to find out their son was 
engaging in the precursors to pre-marital sex. And, since he was nineteen 
years old and in his sexual prime, the overriding thought that kept 
occurring to him was: had this incident destroyed his chances of ever having 
sex with Samantha?



Kyle was still a virgin himself. Though the girls had liked him back in high 
school, none had ever consented to do anything more than give him a few 
kisses, usually on the cheek. He was one of those boys they'd declared "too 
nice" to have sex with. They would keep their relationships on a friendship 
level with him while boffing every buffoon with a nice car and an impressive 
set of biceps. Samantha was his first real girlfriend, the first girl he had 
ever French kissed, the first whose breasts he had fondled, his number one 
prospect for finally shedding the stigma of virginity. He had come so close, 
had worked so hard to get to the point he had been at last night. Was it all 
destroyed now?



His cell phone began to ring again. He quickly snatched it up, looking at 
the display and saw it was showing Samantha's cell phone number. She was 
calling him back. Did she have good news or bad news? Was she breaking up 
with him as part of her repentance?



He pushed the button and put the phone to his ear. "Sam?" he said. "What 
happened? Did you stay home from church?"



"This is Mrs. Isaacson, Kyle," a steely voice replied. "I'm the one who 
stayed home from church."



Another burst of adrenaline went shooting through his body. Oh shit, he 
thought to himself. "Um. oh. uh. hi, uh. Mrs. Isaacson," he stammered. "How 
are. uh. how are you today?"



"My soul is in turmoil, Kyle," she told him.



Her soul was in freaking turmoil? Jesus! How was someone supposed to respond 
to that? "I'm uh. sorry to hear that, Mrs. Isaacson."



"You and I need to have a talk, Kyle," she said.



"A talk?" he said weakly. "Now? Um. about what?"



"You know what we need to talk about. I just finished looking through 
Samantha's call log on her phone. She called you this morning, about twenty 
minutes ago in fact. I'm sure she told you about the conversation she and I 
had last night."



"Oh, that," he said, his mind desperately trying to think of a way to get 
out of this conversation. "Well, uh, look. It's, you know, not as bad as you 
think."



"You led my daughter into sin," she said simply. "I need to talk to you 
about it. I want you to come over to my house, Kyle. We need to talk about 
this."



"Over to your house?" he squeaked. "I can't really do that right now. I have 
to."



"I expect you here in the next thirty minutes," she said. "If you're not, I 
will be contacting the police."



"The police?"



"The police," she confirmed. "Have you forgotten that you are nineteen years 
old and that Samantha is seventeen? While you did not engage in actual 
intercourse with my daughter-thank the Heavenly Father for that-you did 
engage in a sex crime with a minor. I will have you arrested, and I will 
push and fight for the maximum penalty if you are not standing before me in 
the next thirty minutes. Do I make myself clear, Kyle?"



Holy shit! In all of his speculating about worst-case scenarios over the 
past twenty minutes, the possibility of police and legal involvement had not 
even crossed his mind. Would she really do that? Was what he had done really 
illegal? The answer to both of those questions, he feared, was yes. "Uh, 
yeah," he finally said. "You make yourself very clear, Mrs. Isaacson."



"Then I'll be seeing you soon?"



"Yes, I guess you will."



"Very well," she said. A second later, the connection broke.



Kyle took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It didn't really work. 
Finally, he got out of bed and began to get dressed.



*****



He pulled up in front of the Isaacson house twenty-three minutes later. As 
he walked up the front sidewalk, he felt like a man walking up the 
scaffolding to his execution. He stood before the doorway for a few moments, 
his finger poised over the doorbell button, afraid to ring it. Finally, 
figuring he might as well get this over with, he pushed it, hearing the 
faint chiming of Amazing Grace playing from inside.



The door opened and Mrs. Isaacson stood there, her expression stern. She was 
dressed as usual, in a calf-length skirt and a sleeved blouse. Today the 
skirt was black and the blouse was white. One difference that Kyle vaguely 
noted through his fear was that she was that she was not wearing pantyhose, 
something he had never seen her or Samantha do before. He noticed this only 
because the endlessly horny part of his mind-the part that apparently didn't 
even shut down when one was going to one's doom-liked the way her lower legs 
looked.



"Come in, Kyle," Mrs. Isaacson said, standing aside and allowing him entry.



"Thank you," he mumbled, more out of reflex than anything. He followed her 
in and she led him to the family room, a tastefully decorated portion of the 
house that contained fashionable furniture, a large screen television, and, 
of course, a leather-bound Book of Mormon on the coffee table.



"Have a seat," she said, pointing to the couch.



He did as asked and she sat down next to him, a respectable distance away. 
She continued to look at him, her expression now featureless. He remained 
silent, waiting for her to initiate the conversation.



"I must say," she said, "that I'm very disappointed in you, Kyle. Very 
disappointed."



He cast his eyes downward. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Isaacson," he told her. "I guess 
things. you know. got a little out of control last night."



Her gaze sharpened a little. "A little out of control?" she asked. "Is that 
what you call it? You take my daughter out after work and park in a dark 
place with her. You engage in forbidden sexuality with her there. You bring 
her home with her blouse ripped over her bosom, her body stinking of the 
smell of lust, and with a semen stain on her pantyhose. She then proceeds to 
lie to me with a straight face, telling me she went out with you to an ice 
cream parlor. Is that what you call a little out of control?"



"I'm sorry," he mumbled, unsure what else to say. What did this woman want 
from him?



"I like you, Kyle, I really do," she said. "That's why I fought so hard with 
my husband to permit Samantha to continue dating you. I thought you were a 
very nice boy from a good family and that, if things progressed that far, 
you would eventually make a good husband for her. Of course, that would only 
have happened if you'd agreed to become a member of the Mormon Church, but 
you seemed a moral enough person to respect that. Now, I'm not so sure about 
your morality. Is this how Baptists are raised?"



"No, Ma'am," he said, ashamed. "My parents raised me better than this. I 
sinned with Samantha last night and I know it."



Her eyes softened the tiniest bit. "I'm very glad to hear you say that," she 
said. "Are you sincere?"



He nodded, only partially lying to her. After all, he had been brought up in 
a religious family and he knew that what he had been pushing Samantha to do 
was wrong in the eyes of the Lord.



"I believe you," she said softly. "Are you prepared to redeem yourself in 
the eyes of your Heavenly Father? To atone for your sin?"



"Yes," he said. "I am."



She smiled a little, a smile that seemed just a little out of place on her 
face, although he could not quite put his finger on why.



"Okay then," she said. "The first step on the road to redemption is 
confession. I want you to tell me exactly what you and Samantha did last 
night, from beginning to end."



"You want me to. to. tell you?" he asked, his eyes widening.



"To confess," she said, scooting a little bit closer and turning her body 
more towards him. "I want to know what you did to lead my daughter into this 
temptation, and to know what she did to encourage it. Now remember, I've 
already heard the story from her. Don't lie to me."



He swallowed nervously. Just what the hell was going on here? She wanted to 
hear the details of their encounter? Why? Was it just so she could confirm 
what Samantha had told her? To see if there were any details she had left 
out?



"Mrs. Isaacson," he said. "I'm not sure I should. You know? I mean, what 
Samantha and I did was kind of private."



"What you did was a sin," she said sternly. "And confession is how you begin 
to absolve yourself. Now lets start with whose idea it was to go park behind 
the store instead of going to the ice cream parlor. Was it your idea?"



He sighed, feeling like a trapped animal. "Yes," he said. "I suggested it 
right after she got done calling you."



"And did she agree to go with you right away?"



He shook his head. "No, I had to kind of talk her into it."



"How did you do that?"



"You know? Just by talking?"



She scowled. "What did you say to her?"



Christ, this was getting deep. "Um. I told her that I really liked kissing 
her and that I wanted to do it some more."



"So you two had kissed in a passionate manner before?"



He nodded. "A couple of times."



"And you did this despite the fact that the handbook on dating I gave you at 
the start of your relationship with Samantha specifically forbids French 
kissing?"



He gulped. "Yes, Ma'am."



"And do you remember why it forbids this method of passionate kissing to 
those who are unmarried?"



"Yes, Ma'am. Because you might be overcome by lust." Despite his fear and 
shame, he was forced to congratulate himself for saying this with a straight 
face.



"That's right," she said, her expression softening again. "And is that what 
happened to you and Samantha?"



"That's what happened," he said. "We were overcome."



"When you were parked in the car and you were kissing her, sticking your 
tongue in her mouth, feeling her tongue in your mouth, what happened to your 
body?"



"To my body?" he asked.



She looked down at his crotch pointedly. "You know what I mean," she said.



He blushed scarlet. "Well, you know. The usual thing."



"The usual thing?" she said. "Are you trying to say that you got an 
erection?"



His blush deepened. "Yes, Ma'am," he said. "I guess I did."



"And once you were erect, you had the desire for release, did you not?"



"Um, yeah," he muttered. "I suppose I did."



"So what did you do next?" she asked.



"Well, we kissed some more," he said.



"And where were your hands during this time?"



"They were, um, on her waist, I think."



"Show me," she said.



He paused for a second. "Show you?"



"Come here, closer to me," she said. "I want you to put your hands on me 
where you put them on her."



Kyle wasn't sure he had heard her correctly. "Ma'am?" he said.



"Its okay," she said. "I'm sure my old, married body isn't going to tempt 
you into lust. I just want to see how you were touching her."



"Why?" he asked.



"Because I'm trying to understand how you led her into temptation," she 
said. "It will help me instruct her and my other daughters on how to avoid 
it in the future. Now come here please."



Reluctantly, he scooted forward, his mind trying to find sense in what she 
had said. When his legs were next to hers, he turned towards her. Awkwardly 
he reached out with trembling hands and placed them demurely on her waist, 
just above the hips. This was more or less where they'd been with Samantha 
the night before, although not with near the grip.



"I think you were probably holding her a little tighter than that, weren't 
you?" she asked.



"Yes, Ma'am," he agreed. He tightened up his grasp a bit, so he could feel 
her curves beneath her blouse. She was softer than Samantha, he found. Soft 
in a motherly way. Despite the strangeness and the adrenaline of the 
situation, he felt a burst of sexual arousal beginning. His penis stiffened 
up just the smallest bit, a little blood starting to fill it.



"And while you were kissing her," Mrs. Isaacson said, her voice a little 
softer now, "your upper body was pushed up against her, correct?"



"I suppose," he mumbled.



"Show me."



"You mean. do it?"



"Yes," she said, putting her hands up on his shoulders.



This was getting weirder by the second. Nevertheless, he leaned forward, 
pushing his upper body into hers. His face came to within inches of hers and 
he felt the push of her ample breasts against his chest. Her arms came 
around his back and her fingernails made a slight scratching on his skin. 
His penis was now definitely interested in what was going on. The blood 
began to fill it more rapidly. He tried to will it back down before it got 
big enough to notice but it was having none of that.



"You were touching each other inside the strike zone," Mrs. Isaacson 
whispered to his face. He felt her breath against his lips and nose. It 
smelled sweet. Like mint. "That, too, is specifically forbidden, is it not?"



"Yes," he answered, his voice not quite steady.



"Do you see why?" she asked. "Do you see how it incites lust? How it makes 
you long to do other things? To strive for release of your sexual energy in 
an inappropriate way?"



"Yes," he said again, squirming a little, trying to keep his penis from 
bulging out.



"You touched her leg next, didn't you?"



"Yeah, I guess I did."



"How did you get your hand there?"



"Well, I just put it there," he told her.



"Show me."



"You mean.?"



"Show me," she repeated, her tongue now sliding out and licking across her 
upper lip for the briefest of instances.



What the hell was going on here? Surely not what he thought was going on 
here. While pondering that, he did as he was told. He brought his left hand 
down and set it on her knee, which was still covered by her skirt.



"Samantha said your hand came down on her bare knee," she said.



"Uh. well. it did," he said. "But uh. her dress was kind of. you know. 
pulled up a little."



"And who pulled it up?"



"Well. I did."



"Show me how you did it, Kyle. Don't go changing things."



He repeated his maneuver, performing it as he did the night before. His hand 
dropped to her leg below the hem of her skirt, near her upper shin. He then 
slid it slowly upward, his fingertips caressing her smooth flesh, the back 
of his hand pushing the skirt up her legs as it went. Kyle's breathing 
picked up a few notches as he did this, more so than it had when he'd done 
it to Samantha the night before. He was touching Mrs. Isaacson's bare flesh 
instead of her pantyhose. And she was a married woman nearly twice his age. 
His penis was now at full staff, standing proudly, bulging out of his pants 
in a most noticeable fashion.



And notice it Mrs. Isaacson did. She looked down at it, staring at it. "I 
guess my old married body does trigger lust in you, doesn't it?" she asked 
him.



"I'm sorry, Mrs. Isaacson," he stammered. "I can't help it."



"Do you see why we forbid this sort of activity, Kyle?" she asked, her hands 
now tracing soft, sensuous circles around his back. "Can you feel the lust 
permeating your body? Can you feel Satan at work within you?"



"Yeah," he breathed, trembling now. "I feel it."



"And you're not even kissing me," she said. "The activity that set all this 
in motion in the first place."



He wasn't sure what to say to that. He decided that she had probably made 
whatever point she had been trying to make and he could let go of her now. 
He started to pull back.



"No," she barked. "Keep your hands there. You haven't told me how the rest 
of it went."



"Uh. what else do you want to know?"



"At some point after you put your hand on her knee, you stopped kissing her 
mouth, correct?"



"Well, I think."



"Where did you kiss her next?"



He swallowed, looking into her bright blue eyes behind her glasses. They 
were shining in a way that wasn't quite sane. "Her neck?" he offered 
tentatively.



"That's what she said," she told him, a smile forming on her face. She 
licked her lips again. "She told me that's when she began to become 
overpowered with lust, when Satan truly went to work on her."



"Really?" he said, feeling absurdly proud of himself despite the weirdness 
of this situation.



"Really," she said. "Do it to me so I can see."



"D-d-do it to you?"



"Kiss my neck like you kissed hers," she said, letting her head fall back a 
bit. "I need to know what kind of sensation is able to arouse such lust. I 
need to know so that I can instruct my boys to avoid utilizing it."



That sounded like the biggest line of bullshit he'd ever heard in his life. 
He suddenly realized, perhaps a bit belatedly, that Mrs. Isaacson was 
getting hot! She liked being pressed up against him, his hands on her, her 
hands on him! She liked it and was trying to justify it. Holy fucking shit! 
She was being overcome by lust!



"Come on," she said, almost growling. "Do it. Joseph never kisses my neck 
when we make love. He says its wrong, even within marriage. I need to know 
what it feels like."



"Uh, well, okay," he said, still trying to grapple with the epiphany he'd 
just had. He licked his own lips and then nervously leaned forward, towards 
her neck. She let her head fall back on her shoulders as he did so, exposing 
her entire expanse of neck flesh to his gaze. It was a sexy neck, he 
realized, the kind a man liked to kiss on. He put his lips on it, just above 
the collarbone, and kissed her. He started to pull back.



"You didn't just kiss her like that," she said. "Do it like you did it to 
Samantha!"



"Okay," he said. He leaned forward again, this time giving her a real kiss 
on the neck. He let his wet lips slide back and forth, let the tip of his 
tongue poke out and caress the warm flesh. He tasted the salt of her skin, 
felt the smoothness of it. He could not believe he was actually doing this.



"Ohhh," she half groaned, her legs falling open a bit, just as her daughter's 
had the night before. "I can see how that would arouse Satan. Keep doing it. 
I think I'm starting to understand."



He didn't answer her. He just kept doing it. By now, his confusion was 
starting to be swallowed by his own lust. He was holding a hot woman in his 
arms, feeling her tits against his chest, and kissing her neck. And she was 
liking it! She was encouraging him to continue it! Doubts began to flow 
towards the back of his mind. His cock began to throb with the beat of his 
heart.



"She told me. she told me that you began to move your hand higher on her 
leg."



"Mmm-hmm," he affirmed, giving a particularly long lick.



"Do it," she said. "Show me how you tempted her."



He did it, sliding his hand up the inside of her right thigh. He didn't 
bother with the cautiousness he'd displayed with Samantha, nor did he stop 
at the lower thigh. He slid it up high on her leg, nearly to her upper 
thigh. God, her legs were hot. They were a little chunkier than Sam's, that 
was true, but they were bare and very sexy. The first bare legs he'd ever 
touched. The skin was so soft, so warm, so touchable.



Mrs. Isaacson's thighs opened much wider at his touch than her daughter's 
had. Her growing lust seemed to be hitting her with more force. She moaned 
at his touch, her hands sliding down to his ass and squeezing it. "This is 
what she said she did to you," she panted. "Is that right?"



"Yeah," he grunted against her neck. "That's what she did." He continued 
kissing her there, moving around her throat to the other side, licking and 
sucking and biting his way along.



"And then you started touching her breasts," Mrs. Isaacson said next. It was 
not a question. "Show me. Touch mine the way you touched hers."



He was now quite turned on, beyond the point of purely rational thought. He 
removed his hand from her leg and moved it up to her chest. He didn't bother 
with the coy preliminaries of the slow approach and the cup through the 
shirt. He had a pretty good idea which lustful sensation she was after. He 
drove his fingers into the gap of her shirt, his fingertips touching the top 
of her tit and the band of her bra. He didn't try to worm it in. Instead, he 
pushed hard, forcing it in. The shirt separated with a rip of tearing cloth. 
The button flew off like it had been launched from a gun, flying more than 
ten feet across the room. He pushed his fingertips into the top of her bra 
and her entire tit was suddenly in his hand. It was larger than Samantha's, 
the skin hot, jiggly, the nipple huge, swollen, and firm.



"Oh yes," Mrs. Isaacson moaned against him. "I'm starting to see how you did 
it now. I'm starting to see how the evil of lust can go to work on someone."



"Fuckin' aye," he couldn't help but grunt.



She either didn't notice his profanity or simply chose to ignore it. He wasn't 
sure and didn't care. He continued to squeeze and fondle her tit and she 
became hotter by the second. He took some more initiative, moving on to the 
next step without waiting for her to ask. He removed his lips from her neck 
and placed them on her mouth. She opened her mouth greedily at the contact, 
her tongue driving out and invading his mouth, swirling together with his 
own tongue.



"Yes," she panted between kisses. "This is the work of Satan, no doubt about 
it."



Her legs fell open further, almost obscenely wide. Her skirt rode up on its 
own, baring them all the way to the upper thighs. He broke the kiss for a 
moment.



"Should I do what I did next?" he asked her.



"Yes," she said. "Oh, God, yes. Show me how you tempted her. Show me!"



Ever the obedient soul, he removed his hand from her breast and dropped it 
between those thighs, high up, where the skin was particularly soft. He 
moved it upwards, reaching out, searching. It was here that he discovered 
she was not wearing any underwear. His knuckles touched crinkly hair and 
then a hot, smooth wetness. He groaned as he realized he was actually 
touching her bare pussy. And it was saturated with her juices, absolutely 
soaked with them.



"Oh, Lord," he blasphemed, turning his hand inward and putting his 
fingertips on her slippery slit. He felt up and down its length, getting his 
fingers wet, memorizing the sensation of his first bare pussy. He slid a 
finger inside of her experimentally. She moaned loudly into his mouth, 
encouraging him to do more. He did so, putting a second and then a third 
finger in. He began to move them in and out.



"Yesssss," Mrs. Isaacson moaned. "Oh yesssss. This is Satan's tool. This is 
lust! Rub my clitoris! Rub it while you. while you. put your fingers in me!"



It took some doing, but he finally found the nub of her swollen clit with 
his thumb and began to rub on it while his fingers drove in and out of her. 
She nearly screamed into his mouth, her tongue losing its rhythm, her teeth 
nipping at his upper lip and then sucking them. Her hand shot out and was 
suddenly on the bulge in his pants. She rubbed it up and down a few times 
and then grabbed at the button holding the pants closed. She ripped it open 
and then pulled, forcing the zipper down. Her hand shot into his pants and 
was suddenly around his cock, stroking it, feeling it.



"So hard," she said. "So hard. Do you feel what lust does to you? What it 
makes people do?"



"Yeah," he breathed, breaking the kiss. "I feel it." He lowered his mouth to 
her chest, his free hand pulling her blouse open, popping off three more 
buttons. She didn't seem to mind in the least. He grasped the edge of her 
bra and yanked it down, uncovering her left breast. The nipple was standing 
up proudly. He put his mouth on it, slurping at it, tonguing it.



"Ohhhh," she moaned. "Yessssssss. Suck my breast! Suck my breast, you 
Goddamned sinner!"



He continued to suck her breast and she pushed his pants down further, 
taking the underwear with it, completely freeing his proudly stiff cock. She 
stroked it a few more times, her soft hand becoming more aggressive, more 
probing. She felt his balls, squeezing them a little, keeping the pressure 
just on the right side of the line between pain and pleasure.



"You wanted to put this penis in Samantha, didn't you?" she asked him. "You 
wanted to violate her with it."



"Yes," he said from around her nipple. What would be the point of lying?



"Show me," she said, releasing him. "Show me what you wanted to do."



"Show you?" he asked, uncertainty swarming back. Did she mean that he 
should. should. show her?



Her hands grabbed him by the ears and pulled his face up. She tugged him 
upward. "Show me what you would've done if she'd let you," she said, her 
face now a mask of raw desire. "I need to know. I need to feel what you were 
trying to do."



He hesitated a little further, his mind reeling with conflicting emotions.



"Come on!" she said impatiently. "Fuck me, you pagan sinner! Show me how you 
wanted to violate my daughter!"



The emotional turmoil was quickly overridden by his lust. There was a 
beautiful woman lying before him and telling him to fuck her. Who was he to 
question her motivations? Another growl escaped his throat and he pushed 
himself upwards. She opened her legs even further, her skirt sliding the 
rest of the way up. He could now see the dripping pussy he had been 
fingering. It was covered with a nest of golden blonde hair that was now 
damp and matted. The lips were swollen and open invitingly. The clit was 
hard and quite prominent. He could smell her now as well, the thick, musky 
odor of female arousal. The smell of lust.



He lay down atop of her, his crotch against hers. His cock slid up and down 
through her hair and across the slippery wetness of her lips. He drove 
forward but was in the wrong place, accomplishing nothing but having it 
slide downward, towards her ass. He repositioned a little and then tried 
again, this time having it slide upward, through her pubic bush.



"Goddammit!" she cried, frustrated. She reached out and grasped his cock, 
using it to pull him into the proper position. He felt the head nestled 
between her lips, felt them beckoning him to enter. "Now! Fuck me now!"



He pushed forward with his hips and felt the most incredible sensation of 
his young life. He felt his cock being drawn into a wet, warm, channel that 
was designed to pleasure it. It was an almost religious sensation, a 
sensation that could make one believe in heaven. He drove in to the hilt, 
until he felt his balls resting against her ass.



"Yessssssssssss," both of them grunted at the same time.



He pulled back, bringing his cock nearly all the way out. He then pushed 
back forward, feeling that same, glorious sensation yet again. Yes, this was 
what all the fuss was about. This was what everything was about.



"C'mon," Mrs. Isaacson told him, her mouth kissing and licking at his neck 
now, her hands on his ass, squeezing it, palpating it, pulling on it get him 
to drive back into her. "Fuck me hard. Release your lust in me."



He did as he was told. He drove in and out of her body, his ass going up and 
down, his cock plunging and releasing, a wet, squishing noise emanating with 
each stroke. Her pussy clenched knowingly at him as he rutted on her, 
grasping him all over his manhood, squeezing with a most delightful 
sensation. He knew he wasn't going to last long. The feeling was 
overpowering, beyond his ability to control. Within seconds the spasms 
started and his rhythm took on the frantic urgency of impending orgasm.



"I'm gonna. Oh, God, I'm gonna."



"Yes," Mrs. Isaacson moaned against his neck, her teeth biting at him now. 
"Do it! Pour out your lust in my body!"



He exploded. There simply was no other term to describe what happened. The 
orgasm hit him like a speeding freight train, the waves of pleasure 
reverberating through his body like he'd never felt before. His breathing 
stopped and he drove his hips into her hard enough to move the couch 
backwards across the floor. His seed shot out of him into her clutching 
body, blasting against her cervix with a force he had never known. Shot 
after shot gushed out of him and into her, until it was overflowing and 
drooling out between their legs.



He did not know how long it went on. Time ceased to have meaning. But 
finally, the pleasure began to fade away, leaving a contented glow and a 
blissful relaxation behind. His hips slowly ground to a halt. He collapsed 
atop her, his softening cock still buried in her folds, her hands still 
resting on his ass.



"Do you see," Mrs. Isaacson asked from beneath him, "what happens when one 
is overtaken by lust?"



"Yeah," he breathed, a drop of sweat dripping from his forehead and landing 
in her blonde hair. "I see what happens."



"And even this is not the end of it," she said.



"It's not?"



"No," she said, shaking her head. "With such a release as you just 
experienced, the female in question will remain unsatisfied. She will not 
achieve her own release of lust. This may compel her to engage in other, 
even darker activities, things that are not even allowed within the bounds 
of matrimony, in an effort to restore you to a state where you are able to 
foment that release."



"Huh?" he said, confused. That one had gone well over his head.



"Let me show you what I mean," she said. "Lie down on the floor."



Slowly he got up off of her, his cock popping out of her body with a drool 
of their combined juices. He gave her one last look of confusion and then 
did as requested, lying on his back on the floor next to the couch, his 
shoes still on, his pants still down around his ankles. She stood up, her 
skirt falling back into place, and then kneeled down next to him, her knees 
at a level with his. She put her head down to his crotch and, before he 
realized what was happening, her pink tongue shot out and began to lick up 
and down the length of his cock.



"Oh, God," he moaned as he realized what she was doing.



"This is oral sex," she explained between licks. "It is forbidden even to 
married couples. It is a perversion of God's gift of sexual pleasure. Do you 
understand?"



"Oh, yeah," he groaned as she momentarily took his entire length into her 
mouth and slurped it.



"By not having her lust released, a girl may be tempted to do what I am now 
doing in order to restore you to a sinful state. As you can see, Satan can 
recharge you quite easily at your age. It's the way he works."



"Uh-huh," he agreed as she licked some of their juices from his balls. And 
she was indeed correct. Despite having come less than five minutes before, 
he was already stiffening back up.



She licked his member until it was clean, with nothing but her saliva 
covering it. She took him all the way into her throat and moved slowly up 
and down a few times, slowly at first, and then with more speed. In less 
than a minute he was back to tumescent hardness and ready for whatever was 
to happen next.



He didn't have to wait long to see. She straddled his body right there on 
the floor, pulling up her skirt and sinking her saturated pussy down on his 
revived cock. She ordered him to put his hands on her tits and she began to 
ride him, grinding her pelvis up and down, rubbing her clit against his 
pubis with rough, circular strokes. She began to pant within a minute, her 
own face breaking out in a sweat. Her moans became louder, her words 
incoherent and laced with blasphemous profanity. Her juices poured down onto 
his balls. He watched in amazement, trying desperately to hold onto control 
of himself as she brought herself first to one and then to another powerful 
orgasm. And then, unable to take any more, he blasted off again inside of 
her, his hands squeezing her ass cheeks, pulling her down harder onto his 
body.



This time they lay together for nearly five minutes. They did not talk. They 
simply basked in the afterglow, each lost in their own thoughts.



Finally she extricated herself from him and stood up. She pulled her skirt 
down and sat on the couch.



"You better pull your pants up," she said.



He nodded and then stood, pulling his pants and underwear back into position 
and fastening them. He looked at her sheepishly, wondering what was going to 
happen from here.



"Have a seat," she told him, patting the couch next to her.



He did as told.



"What I have just shown you is Satan at work, how lust can take over your 
mind. Do you understand?"



"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I understand."



"I hope I have been able to show you how such lust should be avoided at all 
costs. Now that you've seen the consequences of engaging in heavy petting or 
French kissing, I'm sure you'll want to stay away from such activities in 
the future."



"Yes, I see," he said, although he was already eagerly anticipating the next 
time he might be able to let lust take over his body. Sex was a fucking 
religious experience. Of that there was no Goddamned doubt.



"I'm glad to see my lesson was learned," she said, her motherly smile back 
on her face.



"It was learned all right," he assured her. And fucking how!



"I'm not going to tell my husband about what happened between you and 
Samantha last night," she said. "And I'm not going to forbid you from seeing 
her."



He wasn't sure what to make of that, but he was agreeable. "Okay," he said.



"And I trust you will keep my method of teaching you this valuable lesson to 
yourself?"



"Yes," he said. Who would believe him anyway?



"Samantha's virtue is very important to me," she said. "I want her right 
with the Heavenly Father. I don't want you leading her into temptation any 
more, is that clear?"



"That's clear," he said.



"No more lies to us, no more parking in dark places, no more touching in the 
strike zone."



"I won't."



"I would prefer that there be no more French kissing, but I'm not naive 
enough to think you or she would be able to abide by that. If you must 
engage in that activity, please restrict yourself to places where lust 
cannot overtake you. Will you do that for me?"



"Yes," he said. "I will."



She smiled a little. "You are a good boy, Kyle, despite what has happened. I 
know I can trust you."



"Yes, Ma'am," he said. "You can."



"But if you ever feel that lust is starting to get the better of you, that 
you are starting to get tempted to lead my daughter astray again, I want you 
to come and talk to me about it. In private."



"In private?"



"Yes," she said. "That way, I can give you more lessons on the consequences 
of your lust. I can help show you the way of Satan and what it leads to. 
Will you promise me that?"



He nodded with unmasked enthusiasm. "Yes, Ma'am," he said. "I promise."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+


  index