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From: Rufus Fugit <rufusfugit@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Jenny's Couch, part 14 (yng teen, f-solo, Mf, mast, prost, cutting, blasphemy) by Rufus Fugit
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Date: Fri, 19 Jan 2007 19:10:02 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Jenny's Couch14.txt" begin>

This is an erotic story featuring adults and children.  If you don't want
to read such a thing, don't.  If it's illegal for you to read it whoever
and wherever you are, I don't really care.  Don't read it, or don't get
caught.  Either way, that's your problem.

   This is my story.  It may be freely distributed and reposted to free
sites, or the free areas of pay sites, so long as authorship is properly
credited and these introductory paragraphs are included.  If you can find
someone silly enough to pay you for this story and you steal it for that
purpose, well, mazel tov and fuck you.

   This story is F-I-C-T-I-O-N.  No actual children or adults or anything
were involved in its production.  What part of "made up" don't you
understand?  Intelligent feedback gratefully accepted at rufusfugit at
yahoo dot com.  Stupid feedback and flames to /dev/null.

   This and other stories available at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/rufusfugit.

   Jenny's Couch, part 14 (yng teen, f-solo, Mf, mast, prost, cutting,
blasphemy) by Rufus Fugit

   Thursday before Xmas break - choir practice at church

   "All right, we'll work more on that phrasing next time.  Thank you,
ladies and gentlemen." Pastor Darknight stepped back from the lectern.  His
eyes swept over the junior choir, settling on blond, fourteen-year-old
Karen where she stood on the last row of risers.  For just an instant his
jowly face hardened and his gaze burned into hers.  He nodded fractionally,
then blinked his watery blue eyes and turned to waddle off to his office.
The noise level and chatter in the room rose behind him as the children,
aged 11 and 12 up to high school seniors, stepped down to gather their
belongings.  Some headed out into the corridor immediately, others stood
talking and laughing.

   Karen left her jacket lying on the risers and joined a group of girls as
she put her sheet music into her overstuffed backpack.  Except for her
friend Helena they were mostly a year or two older.  They didn't go to her
school so she knew their names - and how good their voices were - but that
was it.  As she zipped up her pack her eyes were fixed on the doorway at
the back of the large room that led to the choir director's office. 
"Hello? Earth to Karen, do you copy?" Helena was waving a heavily-beringed
hand in front of her face.  She blinked and heaved a sigh, then pasted a
pleasant smile on her face as she looked at her friend.  "You're zoning
out, girl," the vivacious brunette said.  "I said, wanna go to The Spot
with us?"

   Karen looked around the circle.  "Um, I have my private voice lesson
now. But, I could come along after.  How long will you be there?"

   Helena opened her mouth to reply but she was cut off by Lynn, a tall,
chunky black-haired girl.  "Well, don't put yourself out," she said
waspishly.  "I'm sure we'll get along fine without you."

   Karen dropped her eyes, then picked up her pack and turned to go. 
Helena touched her friend's arm.  "Just text me when you're done, we'll
probably be there 'til dinnertime." She rolled her eyes towards the older
girl, mouthing "bitch" so only Karen could see.  Karen gave her a brief
smile, then walked out into the corridor, turning towards the bathrooms at
the end of the hall.

   In the bathroom, Karen stared at her reflection.  She was wearing a
mint-green minidress with cap sleeves.  Slowly she raised her hands and
unbuttoned two more buttons at the collar, exposing a thin line of pale
skin and just a bit of the swell of her firm, youthful breasts.  Her blond
hair was tied off in a ponytail high on the back of her head and fell to
her waist.  It swung gently as she turned her head from side to side,
examining her oval face from various angles.  She removed her glasses and
put them away in her backpack.  She looked straight into her own blue eyes,
trying to make her expression cold and hard.  She spoke softly.  "It's a
hundred from now on." Unsatisfied, she put on a smile and tried again in a
more friendly tone.  "It's a hundred from now on." Then once more,
half-closing her eyes and pursing her lips, leaning across the sink closer
to her reflection and making her voice an intimate purr.  "It's a hundred
from now on." She straightened up and sighed.  Her reflection grimaced at
her.  What did it see when it looked out at her?  Who did it see?  Over the
past three years she had learned to hide the whore, but Karen couldn't
understand why people were fooled.  When she looked into her own eyes, it
was almost always the whore looking back at her.  Almost always, except
sometimes she would think she saw, just for a second, a sad little girl
peering out.  But that couldn't be right.  Karen had friends, she had a
loving family.  She had lots of money, even though her uncle held it for
her.  And she got to fuck all she wanted.  If not for that, she figured her
babycunt would have driven her mad by now.  So what did she have to be sad
about?

   She turned and shut herself in the end stall.  She hung her backpack
over the coathook and unzipped the small front pocket.  Pastor Darknight
wasn't much on foreplay, so she had learned it was best to be nice and wet
when she got there.  Before sitting she lifted the short skirt of her dress
and tugged at her panties.  They were a satiny green that matched the
dress, with lace at the legholes and waistband.  The fabric slid down her
long, pale legs.  It tickled her toes where it fluttered to rest on her
sandal-shod feet.  She admired the white low-heeled slipons briefly.  The
weather was much too cold for them, really, but since she was indoors all
day today it was OK.  She'd told her mom that they were knockoffs she'd
found at the dollar store, but they were the real deal.  Five hundred
dollars, her Christmas present to herself.  At school today she'd sat at
her desk, legs extended, twisting her ankles from side to side, smiling her
"I've-got-a-secret" smile - but only inside, to herself.  The whore mostly
hid during school hours.

   She sat, cold porcelain quickly warming beneath her thighs as she spread
them open.  She leaned back and flipped up her skirt so it rested on her
belly, baring her smooth vulva.  She covered it with her right hand,
holding her palm still against the warm flesh and rotating her crotch in
small circles.  She could feel her clitoris start to respond immediately,
heating and swelling under the light pressure, but for the moment she
avoided direct contact with it.  She teased herself instead, running her
fingers lightly up and down her moistening slit, pressing in just a little
further with each stroke.  Her breathing deepened, her chest rising and
falling.  As her fingers pressed between her inner lips her mouth dropped
open in a little gasp.  Her plain white bra tightened as her chest expanded
and the fabric rubbed almost painfully against her erecting nipples.  Hot
cream dribbled onto her fingertips as she pushed each in turn into her
slit, teasing her vaginal opening.  She rubbed the secretions around her
vulva, spreading the wetness down to her perineum and up to the top of her
shaven mound.  Her clitoris was aching for contact.  It had swelled to near
its full size, a dark red bud in the harsh fluorescent light, shiny with
moisture and nearly as thick and long as the first joint of her thumb.  She
could feel her heartbeat pulsing in it as it begged for her touch.  Under
other circumstances, alone in her bed or the park or an isolated part of
the library, she would've taken her time, but the pastor would be getting
impatient.

   Karen stiffened her second and third fingers and pushed.  They slid
easily into her snug vaginal channel with a faint sticky sound. 
"Yessss..." she sighed as the heel of her hand came to rest on her mons. 
She ground it lightly against her clit, pushing from side to side.  Her
breath caught and her legs twitched involuntarily as sharp little bolts of
pleasure shot out from the sensitive nub.  Her belly fluttered, her nipples
crinkled, and her toes curled against the soles of her sandals as the scent
of her hot cunt rose around her.  She twisted her fingers inside the
familiar snug heat, sliding out and then pushing up and in further as she
increased the pressure on her clitoris.  She could feel her face flushing
as pleasure built in her loins.  She was lubricating copiously now.  Her
juices squished out around her fingers and dripped down in slow, sticky
threads to the toilet water.

   She was more than wet enough now.  She should stop, pull her fingers
out, pull her panties back up, and go make her money.  But something
terrible and familiar was uncoiling in her belly, a need for more than just
this initial stimulation.  Without slackening her pumping, she dug her left
hand into the zipper compartment of her pack, rummaging among the pencils
and pens until she grasped her special tool.  With a practiced flick of her
thumb she popped off the protective cap and only then did she pull her hand
back.  The bared tip of the stainless steel exacto blade gleamed in the
harsh overhead lights.  Just the sight of it made the fourteen-year-old's
muscles clench and she groaned softly as the felt the walls of her vagina
squeeze and slide against her two fingers.

   Karen started to pant with anticipation as she touched the blade to the
crisscross of fresh scabs and older healed scars marring the pale flesh of
her upper left thigh.  With very little pressure from her hand, the
surgical steel razor pierced the skin.  Karen clenched her jaw and clamped
her lips shut as the metal sliced into her.  She smashed her palm hard
against her clit as the bright point of pain on her thigh blended with and
boosted the burning shockwaves of sexual pleasure radiating from her cunt.
She squeezed her eyes tight shut and tensed her thigh muscles, preparing
herself for the next step.  Then she dragged the blade slowly across the
scabbed and ridged skin.

   Karen winced and snuffled as the skin parted beneath the moving blade.
Yesterday's new scab felt different from the older, healed cuts which felt
different still as she extended the cut into clean flesh.  Hot blood welled
from the shallow wound and dripped down the crease between her labia and
the inside of her thigh.  The toilet water bloomed pink as it mingled with
the clear strands of her sex juices floating in the bowl.  Her sobbing
groan echoed off the tile walls as pain rose beneath pleasure and magnified
both.  She shifted her grip on the handle and twisted the blade.  Nerve
endings screamed and became the catalyst for a tremendous orgasm that
rocketed up her spine from her burning clitoris.  But just as she dragged
in a shuddering breath to moan again, she heard the door to the bathroom
swing open.

   Karen's adolescent body went hot and cold and her head spun with the
sudden adrenaline surge from fear of discovery.  She pulled her feet up in
the air, almost losing her balance before her bare heels found purchase on
the edge of the toilet seat.  Her knees flopped open as her ankles were
bound together by her panties; those beautiful expensive sandals dangled
precariously from her pale, elegant toes.  Without meaning to she jabbed
the knife more deeply into her tender flesh.  She ripped her fingers out of
her spasming cunt and clapped the slimy hand across her mouth and nose. 
Tears blurred her squinted vision and what began as a full-throated groan
of agonized pleasure was muffled to a barely-audible high-pitched squeak.
But to her dismay she shivered uncontrollably as wave after wave of sexual
pleasure crashed over her.  Clear, sticky fluid squirted from her shaven,
spread cunt and splashed into the bowl.  The more she tried to hold herself
still, the harder she shuddered and twitched, jabbing the knife she still
held deeper into her thigh.  Each fresh cut was a little spurt of agony
that turned into another orgasmic contraction that shot pleasure from her
cunt into her belly, her breasts, down her legs to the tips of her curling
toes, everywhere.

   Karen's nose was filled with the pungent scent of arousal clinging to
her hand.  Despite the oily fingers clamped over her mouth she couldn't
stop a ragged, growling whine from deep in her throat.  A violent shiver
passed through her body from head to toe and to her horror, one of her
sandals dropped off her foot and clattered on the tile floor.  It bounced
away from the toilet seat and stopped halfway under the stall door.  There
was a frozen moment and then Helena's voice said, "Karen?"

   "Yes!" Karen shouted back desperately.  Too loud, wrong, she knew
instantly and she struggled to relax her throat and breathe easily.  Her
ears burned and fear pricked gooseflesh up her arms and across her back,
even as diminishing aftershocks from her cum wracked her nubile body.

   She jerked the knife up and leaned forward, heels barely balanced on the
rim of the bowl.  She dropped the knife, uncleaned and uncapped, back into
her pack.  Blood was dripping down both sides of her thigh, staining the
toilet seat and filling the water with pink clouds.  She dug frantically in
her pack for the gauze pads she always carried now but her fingers were
clumsy from the confusing mix of sexual release and growing terror, and a
cascade of pencils and pens spilled out to scatter on the tile.  Pencils,
pens...and the knife.  Aghast, Karen watched it bounce and roll awayunder
the stall door.  Even through the roaring in her ears, she heard Helena's
sharp inhale.  "Are you all right?"

   "I'm fine!" Karen responded, desperately trying to keep her voice under
control.  Her fingers finally found the gauze pad and she pulled it out. 
It was too late to worry about the sound of the sterile wrapper tearing. 
She ripped it open and laid the pad on her bloody thigh, wiping herself and
then pressing hard on the fresh cut.  "I'm fine," she repeated more evenly.
"I...I just had some cramps, but it's better now," Even as it came out she
knew how lame the excuse sounded.  Then as the sting of the alcohol burned
into the cut her eyes watered again and she couldn't stop a soft whimper
from rising out of her - but it was a whimper of pleasure as the clean
astringent bite made her clit throb and ache in the cool air.

   But then Helena rattled the stall door.  In Karen's mind's eye she saw
Helena staring down in revulsion at her, half-naked, spreadeagled on the
toilet, covered in blood and her pubescent secretions and reeking of sex.

   "Karen, open up!" Helena said urgently, then more quietly, "It's just
me. Let me help you."

   Ohgodohgodohgodohplease..."NO!" Karen shrieked, then in the stunned,
echoing silence that followed, "No," she repeated in what she hoped was a
normal tone.  "I'm all right, Helena, I just...I'm all right.  Go on, I'll
meet you at The Spot later." She held her breath, waiting for her friend's
reply.  For a second there was none, and then she heard Helena's sneakers
stepping quietly across the bathroom floor.  There was a pause, then the
door opened and shut.  Karen waited to the count of ten, and then dropped
her feet - one bare, the other still shod - to the cold tile floor.  She
closed her knees.  Still holding the gauze against her left thigh with one
hand, she learned forward and cradled her high forehead in the other.  She
dragged in a deep sigh but on the way out it caught in her throat and
became a wrenching sob.  She hung her head and cried quietly for several
moments.  Hot tears splashed on her naked thigh.  She was dizzy with fear
and reaction, but with effort she raised her head and snuffled back her
tears.  The little girl could waste time sniveling, but the whore had to be
practical.  She was going to be late for her lesson, and above all else she
had to keep up appearances.  Her parents, her teachers, her friends, all
had expectations of the smart, pretty, above all GOOD girl.  She had to
stay on the treadmill and meet those expectations every day; that was the
only thing that gave the whore cover so she could keep getting what she
needed.

   Her thigh had stopped bleeding.  Karen stood and lifted her bare foot
out of her panties.  Leaning against the stall for balance, she lifted the
other foot to grab them.  Holding the dress up over her belly with the
other hand, she used the soft lining of the gusset to wipe her vulva, her
smooth-shaven mound, her ass, and her thighs clean of her creamy sex
juices. She gasped as the cloth dragged over her still-swollen clitoris,
but continued methodically cleaning herself.  When she was dry enough, the
fourteen-year-old hung her underwear on the stall's coat hook; again her
scent curled into her nose from the wet fabric at her eye level.  She
smoothed down her minidress over her naked privates, stepped back into her
sandal, and flushed the toilet, watching the bloodied water and gauze pad
swirl away.  Only then did she turn the latch and open the stall door.  She
knelt on the tile, gathering up her spilled school supplies.  But...the
knife.  Where was it?  She cast her eyes around the floor with increasing
urgency, but the hobby exacto blade was nowhere to be seen.  It should be
right here, she thought, it had bounced under the door and stopped right at
Helena's feet...oh shit.  Well, no time to worry about it now, she was
going to be late.  She zipped up her pack.  Her panties crumpled up small
enough to hide in one fist, although she could feel liquid squishing out of
the saturated fabric.  She slung her pack over her shoulder.

   Karen checked herself quickly in the mirror.  She passed a hand over her
face, wiping away a stray tear-track.  The eyes that gazed back at her were
calm now, calm and empty.  "It's a hundred from now on," she whispered once
more, then turned and left the bathroom.  Her heels clicked down the hall,
back to Pastor Darknight's office.

   "A hundred?" The pastor's fat, florid jowls wobbled as he looked down at
Karen and shook his head.  "I can't pay you a hundred.  That's almost
double." As she had feared, Karen's "voice lesson" was getting off to a bad
start.  She was in fact a talented young teen with a beautiful voice, and
Pastor Darknight was in fact a good teacher and professionally trained
himself.  Karen loved singing, loved losing herself in the swell of sacred
music.  For years now, since she had stopped being able to pray, it was the
only time she felt close to God.  And most Thursdays after choir practice
she was the eager student under the pastor's tutelage.  But once a month or
so he had a different agenda.

   He rested his thick hands on her shoulders now and began gently
massaging through her thin dress.  "No.  No, I'm sorry, child, I can't
afford that.  This must be a sign, a sign to me.  I've been so weak, God
knows I've tried to resist your sinful temptations for years, but God knows
I've been weak.  This must be a sign to me that we must stop.  You must
stop," he insisted.  "You must stop defiling your body and tempting good
men into sin.  It's evil, child, evil." But even as he spoke, his thumbs
traced the lines of her clavicle and hooked the unbuttoned collar,
spreading it open further and exposing the tops of her firm, young breasts
cradled in the cups of her bra.

   Karen shivered at his gentle touch.  She had determined to resist his
blandishments, but her skin still prickled from her interrupted orgasm and
the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush from nearly getting caught.  Just
the short walk down the corridor had put her on edge.  The cool air felt
delicious playing over her naked pussy and ass and set her pubescent clit
thrumming with desire.  She tried to ignore that for the moment and remind
herself that every time it was the same.  Darknight had complained about
paying at all, back when they first started.  He'd figured she was just
another confused little girl that he could overawe with his authority.  But
she'd shown him she wasn't some ignorant child, no, she had skills most of
their mothers didn't.  Even if you were the associate pastor of the largest
Baptist congregation in the city, you didn't get that for free.  Still he
still complained every time, pleading poverty on a minister's salary, blah
blah blah.

   He was unbuttoning her dress now, and his fingers pressed against her
exposed bosom while his thumbs slid back and forth over her brassiere.  Her
nipples erected at the gentle pressure, pushing out against the thin
fabric. "Please," she gasped, "I need...ah!" She meant to say "I need the
money," but the pastor squeezed her sensitive nipples, pinching them
between his stubby digits.

   "I know, child.  I know what you need." Karen could hear the pastor's
breath starting to wheeze in his throat.  He finished opening her dress and
slid his hands inside.  The unbuttoned garment gaped in a long "V" from the
young teen's neck down to her navel.  He grabbed at the top of her bra and
pulled down.  Her breasts popped out into the air.  They jiggled as he let
go and the stretched elastic pushed them up.  Her nipples were puffy, the
entire smallish area of the areolae swollen and bright pink.  He palmed the
firm globes, enclosing them entirely with his hands.  The nipples poked
into his fleshy palms and he squeezed his fat fingers.

   Karen winced slightly and gasped again.  The pastor was squeezing too
hard, the way he always did.  His fingers dug into the flesh where her
growing breasts sprouted from her ribcage, but the friction against her
nips sent sharp jolts of pleasure down into her belly.  She could feel
blood rushing to her face and a flush creeping down her neck and the swath
of her exposed skin as the much larger adult continued to fondle her.  She
was tempted to let it go, let it all go, and relax into the arousal
beginning to creep up from her naked crotch, but having made the demand she
knew she had to follow through.  If there was one thing she'd learned in
her short life, it was that everything had a price, and if you wanted it,
you paid for it, period.  As near as she could tell, God had arranged it
that way, so there was definitely no point in whining about it.  So she
made herself step backwards, out of his reach.  Gooseflesh sprang up on her
titties as his warm hands slid off.

   She was panting slightly now.  She looked up at the pastor, flushing
further with the knowledge that he could see her arousal, but she did her
best to fight it down and harden her expression.  "It's a hundred from now
on," she repeated.  But as his face darkened she continued hastily, "I have
a present for you," and she held up her hand up to his face, opening it to
reveal her soaked and crumpled panties.  It was Darknight's turn to gasp as
her florid sexual reek filled his nose.  He snatched the satiny pale green
fabric from her hand and pressed it over his nose and mouth.

   He inhaled deeply, eyes closed, and blew out in a rush.  "All right," he
groaned.  "All right, you filthy whore, a hundred.  God help me." He
stepped towards Karen but she stepped sharply back, her hand from which
he'd snatched her underwear still extended.  He fumbled his wallet out of
his hip pocket.  He rummaged through it, almost dropping it as he tried to
keep from smearing Karen's cunt cream onto the leather.  Finally he held
out four twenties, three fives, and five crumpled ones.  Karen took the
money from his hand and stepped around him.  Her backpack rested on the far
corner of the large mahogany desk that dominated the smallish office. 
Aside from her pack, a blotter, and a "Love Jesus" pen-and-pencil set, the
desktop was clear.  It gleamed with polish and smelled faintly of lemons.

   Rather than walk around the desk, Karen deliberately leaned across it.
She rose up on her tiptoes to stuff the bills into her pack.  Her short
dress rode up in back, showing off her long, shapely legs from her bare
soles all the way up to the very tops of her thighs.  As she stretched
forward the fabric rose further, baring the lower part of her ass.  She
giggled to herself as she heard the hitch in the pastor's stentorian
breathing.  She felt the edge of the desk digging against her pubic bone
and imagined his watery blue eyes goggling at the sight of her pale, smooth
cuntlips peeking out from between her legs.  Karen heard the jingling as he
unbuckled his belt and stepped up behind her.  There was a pause as
Darknight rummaged in his pocket, then the faint plasticky sound of a
condom being unrolled.  She wasn't prepared, though, for the violence with
which he grabbed the back of her neck and shoved her face down against her
pack.  "Hey!" she cried as she felt the back of her skirt yanked upwards.
Then the breath was driven from her lungs as Darknight lunged atop her and
the weight of his paunch landed squarely on her back.  Her stomach and her
bared breasts were squashed against the cool, smooth desktop.  She felt the
warm, blunt head of his tool poking at her slit and her ass crack.  "Filthy
whore, sinful, filthy whore," he grunted in an oddly muffled voice.

   Karen quailed inwardly.  The little girl felt lacerated by the contempt
in her pastor's voice - but the whore reminded her that her pastor had been
paying to sexually abuse her since she was twelve and a half.  A spurt of
anger gave the young teen the strength to get her hands under her and push
herself upright under the adult man's weight.  "Bastard!" she hissed.  "If
I'm a whore, what are you?  You can't stop fucking me!" She struggled to
twist her naked loins aside and close her legs.  With a heave, she managed
to twist half onto her side and look back - and then her anger dissolved in
a gale of laughter.  The pastor had pulled her panties over his head.  His
blue eyes goggled out on either side of the soaking crotch.  As he panted a
large "O" of the wet fabric over his mouth bulged in and out.  His jowls
wobbled, spilling over the leghole elastic.

   The pastor's expression - what Karen could see of it, anyway - darkened
in the face of her laughter.  "Slut!" he grated out, and lunged again,
pressing her forward on the desk.  Her toes came up off the ground and
right out of her sandals.  She spread her legs wide to accommodate the
pastor's fat hips and her pale, bare feet kicked at the air.  She was still
giggling as she felt one of his fat hands probing at her slit, prying apart
her smooth labia, then the breath whooshed out of her again as Darknight
buried his thick tool in her hot snatch with a single hard shove.  Thanks
to her masturbation session in the bathroom, she was still soaked and
slippery and the unlubricated condom slid easily into her.  "Yesss..." she
groaned as her vagina stretched to accommodate the familiar presence of an
adult penis.  The thickness of his tool felt dimly good moving around in
there, but it was too short and the angle was wrong for her to get really
stimulated.  They used this position because it was the only one that
suited the man's extreme obesity, but it meant she didn't get much out of
it, except the money of course.  That was why she charged him more than
anyone else, way more now that he'd acceded to her demand today.  She would
have preferred to just stop doing him, but what with being in the choir and
having to see him in church all the time anyway, trying to cut him off
would cause too much trouble.  Maybe after Christmas, next year.

   Pastor Darknight began thrusting without pause, shoving himself brutally
and rapidly into the young teen prone underneath his fat stomach.  "Slut!
Harlot!  Whore!" he grunted in time with his thrusts.  He grabbed at her
slender hips, pulling her writhing body against him and impaling her as
deeply as he could on his blunt, short erection.

   "Oh, God!  Yes!  I'm a whore!  Ow!  Ow, you're hurting my babycunt!"
Karen's cries and moans were strident, but the pastor couldn't see her
face. Her slender, fourteen-year-old body was practically hidden underneath
the wobbling curve of his fat belly and his eyes were screwed tight shut
anyway.  He couldn't see how her tone was completely belied by her calm,
empty expression.  Raising herself with some difficulty on one elbow, she
rummaged in her backpack until she found her cellphone.  She blew her
tousled hair out of her eyes so she could see the phone's display.  Even as
she theatrically whimpered and begged the pastor to "fuck me!  Fuck my
whore babycunt!" she was thumbing out a text message.  She worked carefully
as her body jerked forward and back on the desk surface.  "still @ spot?"
she tapped out and sent to Helena.  In a moment the reply came back, "yes.
lynn is such a beeyotch".  Karen grinned.  As the pastor continued to gasp
and puff behind her she keyed, "short lesson - c u soon" and hit "send".

   The pastor continued huffing and blowing and thrusting into Karen's
adolescent cunny.  "Oh, God, Jesus, fuck me with your big cock, fuck my
babycunt with your coAHHH!" Karen's litany ended with a surprised yell as
the pastor jerked her backwards on the desk.  The sudden change of position
scraped her swollen clit across the edge of the desktop.  Then he lurched
forward and down and his weight smashed the tender nub against the sharp
edge again.  Karen's bare legs, which she had been idly kicking in the air,
shot straight out in reaction to the burst of pain.  Her thighs clamped
around Darknight's hips and her vagina clamped down on his latex-clad
organ. The fat man grunted and shoved forward, grinding Karen's mound and
her burning clit against the edge.  "GAH!  OW!  FUCK!  SHIT!  DAMMIT!"
Karen cried and moaned in earnest now.

   Her language further inflamed the pastor and he slammed even harder into
the young teen writhing beneath him.  Each thrust brought a fresh scream
from Karen as not only her burning hot clitoris, but the fresh knife wound
on her thigh as well scraped over the rim of the desk.  "AH!  AH!  AIE! 
AIEOWW!" she howled as jagged spears of pain pierced her tender flesh.  Her
clit was still sensitive from her masturbation and it felt like it was
being pinched in two as she struggled to raise her mound from the sharp
edge digging into it.  Her hands scrabbled vainly at the desktop for
purchase, trying to pull her half-naked body forward beneath the fat man's
weight pressing down on her.  Sweat stung her watering eyes.  Her cries of
"STOP!  YOU'RE HURTING!" were truly desperate now but the pastor paid no
heed.  If anything he pressed harder and thrust into her faster and deeper.
Karen moaned as a jagged burning ecstasy began to rise under the pain.  Hot
cream oozed out of her stuffed vagina onto the desktop.  The lubrication
made her engorged clitty push more easily back and forth across the edge.
Each scrape lit up her nervous system with an inextricable mix of agony and
pleasure.  Her thigh was burning; at the same time the cool surface felt
delicious beneath her squashed breasts; she could feel the hard points of
her nipples sliding in her sweat.

   A dark wave was building, rising up to crash down on her.  Karen lived
for the times that wave would engulf her, smashing all breath and thought
from her tender adolescent body and drowning her in pure sensation. 
Nothing mattered inside the wave, not her parents' expectations, not
homework or grades, not the churning roil of shame and arousal she
struggled daily to repress, not tomorrow's ache in her babycunt, nothing.
The wave washed it all away, if only for a few moments.

   Not this time, though.  Before the wave could rise very high, she felt
Pastor Darknight's grip on her thighs tighten painfully.  He let out a
familiar rasping yip and she felt his condom-covered penis expand,
stretching her labia even further.  He shuddered, groaned, and then it was
done.  He let go of her and stepped back, pulling out so swiftly it almost
hurt.  Karen rolled over and lay on her back, her heart hammering.  Her
pert little titties heaved as she fought to get her breathing under
control. Her dress gaped open from collar to navel and the skirt was
bunched up around her waist.  She brought her heels up and pushed her body
backwards so that she could pull the skirt down to cover her gaping cunt
without soaking it in the puddle of her sex juices dripping over the edge
of the desk.

   Darknight snatched the young girl's panties off his head.  He was filled
with disgust.  He was disgusted with himself for his weakness, and even
more disgusted with the filthy whore-child who took advantage of his
weakness over and over.  As always, he resolved this would be the last
time, knowing full well his resolution was nothing before her sluttish,
sinful display.  Reaching under his paunch he peeled the condom off his
wilting penis.  Just touching the latex filled him with revulsion and he
tossed it blindly at the blonde teenager lying across his desk.  Barely
taking time to do up his trousers, he turned and yanked open the office
door and left at as close to a run as his short, fat legs could manage.

   Karen jerked as the full condom plopped down on her bare, sweaty
stomach. The pastor hadn't even bothered to tie it off and sticky, cooling
sperm splashed out the open end and began to drool down her side.  She
quickly squeegeed it up with her fingers to keep it from staining her
dress. With her other hand she picked up the prophylactic and held it up
off her slimed belly.  There was nothing in reach to wipe her fingers on
and with both hands full it was almost impossible for her to sit up.  With
a soft grunt of anger she threw the rubber across the room to where the
pastor's massive presentation Bible stood open on a bookstand.  It slapped
against the gilt-edge paper wetly and clung there.  Karen smiled grimly as
she raised her semen-coated fingers to her lips and licked them clean,
grimacing slightly as she swallowed the bitter latex flavor.

   Karen lay still on the desk, feeling the sweat drying on her skin, the
last traces of gooey secretions oozing from her stretched cunt.  She was
suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of confused anger, shame, and something
very like despair.  She covered her face with her hands to stifle the sobs
that tried to break through her control.  She forced herself to breathe
slowly and evenly as she focused on the hum of the fluorescent lights
overhead and the soft roaring of the building ventilation system.  Within
moments, though, she felt a draft on her moist, swollen labia.  He didn't
even close the door, she thought angrily, realizing that she was on display
for anyone who happened to walk into the choir room.  Chilled at the
thought of being discovered like that with her dress open and her cunt
spread, obviously just-fucked, she struggled to a sitting position.  She
pulled up her bra, wincing as she adjusted each tender breast in its cup,
and hastily buttoned her dress.  Pulling down her skirt, she rolled off the
side of the desk to avoid the sticky, drying puddle of her secretions.  She
stepped back into her sandals.  Turning her back to the door she pulled her
ponytail holder down and off her waist-length blond hair, finger-combed it
back into some semblance of order, and retied it.  She smoothed down her
dress front and back, picked up her backpack and crossed to the door,
pausing to look down at the sticky mess the condom made lying across the
pastor's Bible.  She saw that it was open to I Corinthians, towards the end
of chapter 14.  With a satisfied smirk on her face she slammed the book
closed, squashing the used prophylactic inside like an obscene bookmark.

   Karen retrieved her jacket and shrugged into it.  Settling her backpack
over her shoulder, she left the choir room and set out for the coffeehouse
the kids called The Spot.  She left the main building and cut across the
south courtyard of the church complex.  Dead leaves skirled around her
ankles as the cold wind blew up her short skirt and chilled her wet, naked
pussy and backside.  She encountered no one as she walked.  She was
starting to shiver by the time she entered the youth complex.

   She walked past the auditorium and the small chapel.  Warm, fragrant air
and conversation spilled out the open doors of the coffee shop.  She
spotted Helena sitting with Lynn and a group of other girls.  She walked
over, snagging an empty chair as she went and dragging it upto the table
next to Helena.  She dropped her backpack next to her friend and went to
the counter to get a cup of orange herb tea liberally dosed with sugar. 
Wearing what she hoped was a friendly smile on her face, she carried the
cup back to the table.  She sat carefully, making sure to smooth her short
skirt under her bare thighs.

   The other girls acknowledged her cheerful-sounding greeting and Helena
hugged her.  She sipped her tea quietly, letting their trivial talk about
school, boys, the upcoming concert, wash over her.  She didn't much feel
like talking.  Already her clitoris was starting to ache from the
forestalled climax and she fought the growing urge to call her mom to come
get her so she could curl up under her covers and masturbate to exhaustion.
But as always she hid the turmoil behind a vacuous smile and let her eyes
unfocus as she pretended interest in the conversation.

   Karen didn't see Helena's eyes widen as she glanced over and her gaze
dropped to her friend's lap, but she came out of her reverie as the short
brunette grabbed her arm.  "Karen, come to the bathroom with me." Her voice
was light but her dark eyes burned into Karen.  Without waiting for an
answer she took the taller girl's hand and stood, pulling her to her feet.

   Karen trailed along in her friend's wake.  Helena was no fashion-model
waif and never would be.  She'd been a chubby little girl but had bloomed
with puberty into a short, busty young woman with a quick smile and a
merry, infectious laugh.  Her hair fell in permed ringlets, tied loosely
back to show large, complicated, dangly pierced earrings.  She fairly
dragged Karen into the women's bathroom.  The youth center was an older
building and the bathroom doors had knobs and deadbolt locks.  With a flick
of her heavily-ringed hand, Helena shot the bolt and turned to confront her
friend.

   Karen took an involuntary step backwards.  Helena's dark eyes flashed,
not in anger exactly, but...  "What is it, Helena?" she asked, trying to
forestall the confrontation she knew was coming.

   "What is it?  Kar, what's going on?" Helena demanded.

   "Nothing," she replied unconvincingly.

   "Nothing?  Nothing!?" Helena's voice rose near a shout.  She pointed
wordlessly at Karen's skirt where it hung below her short quilted jacket.
Karen glanced down, then stared in horror at her reflection in the mirror.
Where her pale-green fabric draped against her left thigh there was a dark
brownish-red stain.  It was the size of her palm and even as she watched,
fresh spots of blood seeped through.
   To be continued...

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