Keep Denver's Stories

"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law."
- A.L. I. 40.

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DISCLAIMER

This story contains explicit description of sexual activities involving underage persons. If you are under the proper age (usually 18 or 21), or your religion, beliefs, morality forbid you to read such - delete this file now. Otherwise, have fun.

None of the events described herein really happened. I would never encourage anyone to commit such acts. The same is true for drinking alcohol and using illicit substances as some of my heroes do. Treat this story as pure fiction for fun. Don't get inspired!

Now, from this place here I'd like to thank the following people:

NetWanderer - for writing Girl Scout Camp Adventures
NightShade - for writing Camp Nurse
Nobo Cough - for writing CuzLuv

These people inspired me for writing "Girls".

Now, codes for the story: drugs, Mf, rape, f_solo

Keep Denver

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The story so far:

Part I - Dormitory Girls
Part II - Unfortunate Misunderstanding
Part III - Farewell And Welcome
Part IV - The Memories Of Father Donovan

Coming next:

Part V - Alice in Wonderland
Part VI - First Blood
Part VII - Father, I Have Sinned

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THE GIRLS OF ST. DUMAS

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Part IV - The Memories Of Father Donovan

Our Father
Who art in heaven
Hallowed be Thy name
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth, as it is in heaven...

Brass stood still, leaning against the wall of the chapel. Father Donovan was just finishing his evening prayers, the soldier learned. He needed to have a talk. It was quite urgent. In his thoughts he was relieving back the day that has just finished. It was a hard day, especially for his nerves and instincts. Even his military training wasn't enough to cope with the tension he was put under.

He knew that PE classes for teenage girls would be very much different from what he used to do in the army. Still, he didn't expect it to be harder. And it wasn't... At first.
The first group he was to take care of were the youngest - 5-6-year-olds. For the first time he mostly did talking, trying to find out what was the usual scheme for them to follow - what were they training, what games they played, how was everything organized.

The reverend mother dropped in to check, whether he is doing alright. She seemed satisfied with the results and left him, playing unihoc with little cuties. That was one thing Brass had to admit, though it seemed a bit strange. There were no ugly girls in the group. There is always couple of them, maybe not exactly ugly, but just unpretty... And here - nope.

Although everything was just fine, he felt a bit tense. He was constantly aware of the glares and stares he was receiving. Not that it was unpleasant, just made him a bit nervous. He couldn't find out - why?

It was with the second group the problems started to arise a bit more. These were older girls, about 12-14 year-old, he learned from his teacher's notes. Everything seemed fine, except they were very excited. If the toddlers treated him as kind of curiosity, those young teens literally devoured him with their young, big and, he could say that, eager eyes. He suggested a volleyball game. If he only knew, he'd never done that. All of them, regardless the age wore the same type of uniform - strange version of black, gymnastic leotard with longer sleeves and legs. Only thin, cotton fabric separated their young, fleshy, blooming bodies from the world.

During the game he was constantly being "accidentally" brushed by a pair of firm though small tits or had the opportunity to stroke his fingers across some perky cotton clad butt. It seemed all of these girls suddenly got crazy and tried everything to make any possible physical contact with the ex-marine. That was starting to be too much.

Just then the lunch break came and he in fact escaped, locking himself in his little cabin, separating the world full of young bodies, on the way there trying desperately to hide his raging hard-on.

But when he came back after lunch and learned that the last class for today are almost exclusively 17-year-olds he knew it's gonna be really hard work. Most of these girls must've believed a bra is something that should be long forgotten. Only couple of them seemed to wear one under their training suits. He also quickly noticed some of them regarded panties as something similarly unnecessary. Things were getting a bit hot. And no backup would be deployed this time...

- Yes, son? You seem to have wanted to talk to me? - the priest's voice brought the young marine back to reality.
- Oh, yes, indeed, father Donovan, I presume. I am...
- I know. Jessie Courson, our new staff member - father Donovan was a tall man in his early sixties. He must've been quite handsome when he was younger, Brass thought irrelevantly.

- What is the merit of your visit, then, young man?
- Oh... Temptation, father... Yes, temptation. I feel tempted so often.
- To be tempted is a thing of the man. It is not sinful to feel temptation. But it is a sin indeed to allow the temptation to take over one's reason...
- Affirmative, father. I mean, yes, it is truly right. But still, it is so difficult not to be tempted in a place like this.

- You mean the atmosphere of godly deeds or the crowds of these little sluts... Oops! A slip of tongue, if you forgive!
- Sure, father. Shame to admit it, I feel the same about them - both man moved to the back of the chapel, into Donovan's small office, where they sat at a table. The priest produced a cigarette case and lit a hand made joint.

- Smoking badly affects your health, father - noticed the soldier.

- Oh, maybe, but my time is limited anyway. And... It's the last of those little pleasures human beings like to enjoy that I can still cultivate - he smiled.

- I see. I used to smoke myself, some time ago, during the Las Segovias operation. Old times already...
- You want one? - the priest offered, taking a huge puff - This'll help you relax and share your thoughts with me. Though I seem to know what brings you here...
- Indeed? - asked Brass, lighting the joint. Donovan seemed quite confident and clever man - How come?
- I've met sister Theresa this morning, before she left - he smiled, seeing the expression on Brass' face - Don't worry, nobody shall know. I can keep a secret.

- Hope so... In other case, I'd say goodbye to the job. And I already started liking it.
- I know. And I know what you wanted to tell me. But I can't advise you, simply. You know, son, I made such a mistake long time ago... Want to hear a bit about that?
- Sure I do, father. But first... No, gosh that can't be?! - he took a huge puff and started to cough. He felt a familiar taste on his tongue, a bittersweet scent of herbs. And the thick, striking aroma of the smoke.

- Yeah... You got it - it's not tobacco. At least not only... - father Donovan smiled - This shall clear your mind and let you go peacefully over a few things...
- You bet, father. I haven't smoked stuff since my college years. It's pretty shit one. I can already feel it starting to work.
- Indeed. The rastafarians believe it's how the God speaks to you. And maybe they are right? Nobody knows the path that God follows. And it's not for us to judge, but for our merciful Father in heavens. Anyway, you wanted to hear a bit about sister Theresa, didn't you, my son?
- Damned right, father - Brass involuntarily burst into laughter. He could fell the tension go away, his muscles relax and his thoughts flow about slowly and without any hurry.

- I first came here in 1963. I was 25 then. And the things weren't very much different from what they are now, believe me - the priest stood up, opened a drawer and brought a photo album.

- Well, my son - he presented Brass a photo of a really cute teenager. Her face was somewhat familiar. Jessie was struck by the idea it was young Theresa.
- Yes, you are right - father Donovan said, as if reading Brass' mind - She is very similar to Theresa. Her name was Marianne and she was Theresa's mother.

- I get it... And who was... the father? - the ex-marine looked tentatively at the priest. His eyes opened wide at the very though. Donovan nodded.
- Yes. Yes, that was my mistake. Or maybe not a mistake, maybe I could just call it an unfortunate accident. And may the Lord forgive me... Now you see, I am not the best person to advise you, am I? Well, I was young, I was airhead and she was just so sweet, so innocent and pure. Somehow, I don't know how, that just happened. So, I do understand. And if you want to talk, my son, come over any time you want. But please, not tonight. Think things over and come some other day at more appropriate time, all right? You're welcome to visit me.

- Glad to know that. By the way, father, don't you feel tempted anymore?
- Too old for that - the priest laughed.
- But if you had any decent photos, please, bring them to me - he smiled - And take some pot with you, you may enjoy it later - he offered him a small package with about half gram.
Brass took it, thanked, got up, shaking his head in disbelief. His shook the older man's hand and left for his little room by the gym.

Father Donovan closed the front door and came back to his room. The meeting woke his old demons, he thought were long asleep and gone. He reached back with his thought to 1969 when he was still young. It was the end of a long, long decade. His country has undergone a serious revolution in the social life. The age of free love and flower power, together with war, political scandals, sex, drugs, rock'n'roll and the fall of moral values left everybody shaken.

It didn't apply so much to the small, quiet place called The School of St. Dumas. Father Donovan, however, was a man still in his best years and often moaned quietly when he saw young, innocent girls bloom into women full of passion and desires.

The edge was close, though he would never think he'd go over it. Or maybe he just didn't want to think.

Marianne was 13 then. He knew her very well - beautiful, bright child, full of passion and love for every single creature and phenomenon of the world. She was one of the best students, always curious and hungry for knowledge. He liked the moments, when she came to him with her doubts about the faith, the eternal life, her questions about the nature of God and life of Jesus of Nazareth.

He was Marianne's confessor and knew all her little doubts. He could never, ever, in his wildest dreams even imagine such a thing would happen.

As years went by Marianne was growing - her questions changed, she learned new things and changed her views on things. It was one dark, winter afternoon. He hadn't seen her for couple of days - all the girls went for a trip to the Sanctuary of St. Anthony. He spotted her during the morning mass the next day, but she turned her head aside, avoiding his look, as if ashamed. And ashamed she was, he learned soon.

She came to him in the afternoon. It was already dark outside. He invited her to his little office - the chapel was quite cold under heavy burden of snow that covered everything around the school.

- Father Donovan - she said sadly, still avoiding eye contact - I... I... Father, I'd like to confess my sins... Could you please listen to my confession. I... I feel I can't tell anyone, but I can't hide it anymore. It's just too much for me... Please, Father, will you listen, will our Lord listen to such a horrible, filthy sinner I am? - she asked, her eyes glistening with tears that started to come.
- Good God, sweet little Marianne, what was so filthy, so that you behave like that - he asked, grabbing her arms and kneeling in front of her. The first tear was just rolling down along her face.
- It was during the trip, father. I... I can't say that... I'm too ashamed! - she burst into tears, putting her head on his arm. He could feel his shirt was getting more and more wet.
- Don't be! It is just me, father Donovan, your friend. My poor child, God will forgive you anything. I can see you are deeply sorry for whatever happened. Now, don't cry and confess - he encouraged.
- There... During the trip, I mean... Father, oh, it's so sinful, so filthy - she licked a tear from her cheek. He shivered at that sight - When we were in bed already, you, like, in the evening. Oh, father, I can't!- she exclaimed.
- You did what? - he asked, smiling at her - Smoked cigarettes? Drunk wine? What was so terrible to make you cry like that, poor, little girl? - He embraced her, trying to cheer her up. He could feel her chest jerk with every spasm of sob. Somewhere, deep in his mind lit an irrelevant, strange thought that this little child in no longer such a little child and she has a nice, big pair of breasts.
- OK, father Donovan. I'll confess, but I can't say it, so I'll show you. Let the God forgive.

The teenager released herself from he embrace and stepped back. Before he could even think about it, she grabbed her long, black skirt and pulled it all the way up, trying to keep it there between her chest and her chin. And in a blink of an eye she reached down with her hands to her hips, grabbing and pulling her pantyhose and her panties all the way down to her ankles. He looked amazed as she exposed herself from her waist down. Before any understanding came, he noticed her cunny - her pussy lips were still fat the childish way but already covered with some nice fleece of fair, curly hair.

- Father Donovan, I touched myself down there. And I touched other girls too and let them touch me. Please, tell me God can forgive such an offender like I've become... Please, father, say something... - tears started to come from her eyes once again.

Donovan was not prepared for anything even distant to such a situation. He just knelt there, in front of that child, staring insanely at her slit, unable to say a word.

- I... I, Marianne, look, I... How did it happen? You didn't seem to be interested in things like that? Not you? - he inquired, his eyes still fixed on the hairy patch covering her crotch.

- We started talking about that, father. We talked about boys, you know - she confessed, holding her skirt high up, pressed against her chest, her cunny exposed to his unobstructed view. As he listened, he felt his dick twinge, something that didn't happen to him too often. He licked his lips and without a thought, not realizing what he's doing, he demanded:
-Show me. Show me the way you touched. I need to see that - his breath quickened. He was already out of his mind.

The 13-year-old obediently removed her skirt completely, together with her blouse, to give herself better access to her lovely mound. She propped herself with one hand against the desk and with the other, she started to stroke her slit, moving her slim finger up and down along it, pressing it in until it deepened between her puffy, firm lips. She stopped crying, seeing the unexpected expression on the priest's face. It was amazement, not horror or disgust as she had expected.

- Forgive me my Lord and you, oh, sweet child, forgive me. I shall be damned - he lifted her in the air, pushed her so she was lying on her back on the desk. Her legs got spread to the sides. Without hesitation he dived his head between her knees and started eating her, licking furiously her cunt, reaching hungrily for her clit, for her tight, virgin opening, licking her rosebud. At the same time his hand dived under her shirt and found that lovely pair of breasts that delighted him so much earlier. His other hand stroked her thigh, moving to her buttocks from time to time.

She moaned, overwhelmed by the situation but trusting to this man she knew since she was very little. She believed what he did was righteous. It had to be. At the same time, she shivered with a new, unknown emotion, unexpected feelings her body now produced. From what father Donovan did between her legs - she knew he was licking her wee-wee, though it could seem incredible and naughty and gross - there came a feeling of immense pleasure, overwhelming pleasure flooding all her little body. Suddenly she felt what she thought was a hit of electricity - her whole body tensed, jerked and she fainted, losing her mind completely.

She came back to reality, feeling some pressure, some strange fullness between her legs. Something seemed to be in her tummy, in a place she didn't suppose existed, at least not before. It was moving, stretching her inside, sliding in and out a new, never before expected hole between her legs. She propped herself on her elbows to see what is father Donovan doing and she was surprised to see him putting a finger somewhere inside her, between her legs.

- Are you putting it in my bum? - she asked curiously, looking up at him - But it feels different than when I poop. It must be some other place.
- Oh, yes, Marianne. This is a special, little opening that every girl in the world has. It is very important for them, at least from certain age...
- And sister Jean-Baptiste has one too? - she asked, gasping when the new, pleasant feeling came again, sending electric jolts through her body again. She jerked, pulling herself back she could feel his finger pop out from her opening.
- It... It... - she couldn't catch her breath - It feels good, father. Please, does this mean I'm forgiven? Are my sins remitted?
- Yes, my child - said father Donovan, biting his lip and pulling something from his trousers. It was rigid, long and tilted to the sides.
- What's that, father? - she asked, a bit anxious and afraid.
- That's my wee-wee, sweet child. I'm going to put it inside you, just like I did with my finger. Don't be afraid, please. Trust me... - his breath was heavy. He didn't know at all what was he doing and how did it all happen. He just knew he had to possess that little girl no matter what. Hell be damned, he was ready to die and meet face to face with the Satan himself, just to find out how her little cunt felt.
- Are you sure? This is too big, it will tear me in pieces - she protested, as she felt the warm, soft tip of his dick press strongly against her opening. She could feel she was all wet down there, in some strange way her cunny produced a flood of slippery, thick juice, covering her hips, tummy, her butt and it didn't seem to stop coming. She felt the father's thing press even stronger and then, suddenly, in one paroxysm of pain, fear and pleasure she lost her conscience again.

As if still unconscious, as if in a dream she could feel something long, hard and thick move in and out of her. This feeling caused her much pain but on the other hand gave her pleasure of that new kind - the one she already started to like. She looked up at father Donovan's face - his expression was tense, his eyes closed, he moaned loudly to the rhythm she could feel inside her tummy. Suddenly he jerked his head back, hit her hard so she cried with pain it caused and she felt something warm, wet and sticky being pumped inside her. It seemed to last for ages and before the flood was over, she fainted again.

She woke up, still lying on the desk, her legs hanging in the air. She could still feel serious discomfort in her cunny - the opening she just learned to have was hurt and caused quite a pain. She reached her hand down there and brought it before her eyes to see some strange, thick, white mucus with red traces of blood.

- Father! Father Donovan! What have you done to me? - she looked at him, fear in her eyes.

It was over thirty years since that day, but Donovan knew he'd never forget the expression on her face - the face of a child, whose faith was disappointed, who was let down by the one she most deeply trusted and believed.

Nobody found out. Marianne seemed to forgive him - things were back to normal, mostly. Couple months later it turned out she was pregnant. She was immediately expelled from school and couple more months later the reverend mother found a small parcel in front of her door. It was a newborn baby, a cute little girl. Although it was quite easy to guess who could've been the mother, only Donovan knew who the father was.

They raised this sweet baby into a fine young woman, into a nun. But she didn't want to play their rules, and so, in effect, father Donovan's only begotten daughter was expelled from the convent only couple days before. He sighed and felt asleep, tired by the memories from his past.

Alice was already in her bed, dancing on the thin edge between dream and reality. Carrie and Beth were still in the bathroom, taking their time. Most probably, having fun again, Alice though, a bit bitterly. Since she learned about her two roommates being lovers, she envied them and longed for having someone like that for her own. She couldn't take Tammy under consideration and wasn't courageous enough to ask the other two to let her join them.

She was lying on her stomach, writhing around, unable to fall asleep. The youngest was already sleeping like a log, and Carrie and Beth still weren't coming. Her butt-long tress got under her stomach, the fuzzy, hairy end of it was pressed against her cunny, teasing her pleasurably. Without a second thought she turned to her back, removed her panties and started to stroke her cleft with her soft hair.

She felt something deep between her legs tighten, as she was feeling her crotch and her firm, little butt, reaching her slim fingers along her cleavage. She was already wet. Her moist, musky juice flew down her cunny and lower, over her rosebud, between her ass cheeks and into the sheets of her bad. Her covers slid aside, but she didn't notice that, having her eyes closed and concentrating on the sensations filling her young, innocent body.

She moved her index finger along her cleft, spreading her fat, puffy cunny lips to the sides, going down, to the unknown land until she felt the little opening of her butt. It was swollen with her excitement, all wet and slippery. Without even realizing what she's doing, Alice pushed her finger hard against the sphincter and her whole finger went deep inside her asshole.

A creak of the door sounded like a thunder in the silence of the dark room and a bright patch of light from the open door revealed the very picture of Alice's bottom with her index finger trapped in the very middle of it, probing her bowels. The figure that entered the room gasped, both terrified, amazed and confused.

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January, 2003

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