Free Reluctantly Deflowered by Pastor Graham by J.D. Smith Page B

in Mother's company. I'd asked once, when I was
little, about babies and some things I'd heard at school and Mother
had grown angry. So angry that she paddled my butt bright red and
sent me to my room. Daddy had only been gone for a few months, so I
chalked it up to grief.
    The stirring I'd felt earlier, when Pastor
Graham had touched me, came back with a vengeance. I looked to the
kitchen, sure that Mother was watching me, that she knew what I was
thinking. Her back was turned, and she was busy cleaning and
peeling potatoes for supper. I went back to work, determined to
keep those dirty thoughts from my mind. The rest of the house was
easier, some nooks and cranny's that I had to stretch and contort
to get to, but no more nude figures or distractions.
    I finished and headed upstairs to change.
“Mother, I'm going to get ready,” I yelled from the foot of the
stairwell. “Do you need me to do anything else?”
    “No, dear, go change,” she said. “We want you
looking pretty for Danny this evening.”
    What she really meant to say is that she
wanted me to impress the Pastor for her. That woman never gives up
when she sets her sights on something, and she'd set her sights on
Pastor Graham. God help him.
    The stairs creaked as I ascended, as old wood
is inclined to do. It used to be creepy, when I was small, but now
it was more familiar, almost comforting. The house was nearly part
of the family, handed down from my grandparents to my parents and
from their parents to them. I made the first left into my bedroom
and closed the door.
    My dress was already laid out on the bed.
Mother must have come up while I was still dusting. It wasn't my
favorite, unfortunately, but it would do. It was a summer dress,
pale yellow with white, frilly lace for trim. I thought it hung
wrong, completely hiding my meager assets in a wave of bland
fabric, but Mother liked the modesty of it. I sighed and stripped
off my work clothes. I put them in the hamper. God help me if
Mother ever found a piece of clothing on the floor.
    Dusting took a while, but it was hardly
strenuous, and Mother didn't like incurring unnecessary costs, so
another shower was out of the question. Instead, I stripped off my
underwear, opened my dresser, and hunted for a new set. It wasn't
difficult, they all looked the same.
    I caught sight of my naked form in the mirror
and flinched. But I didn't turn away. I was in the flower of my
youth. High, firm breasts, a flat tummy, and hips that were just
wide enough for child birth. I'd always been taught to be ashamed
of my body, but today I was fascinated by it. I wanted to know its
secrets. I wanted someone to unlock them. I reached down and, for a
brief moment, caressed my secret place. It felt so good as my
finger slid along. I hit the little nub at the top and shivered,
the pleasure washing over me, threatening to drown me in its flood.
I pressed harder, biting my lip to keep myself from crying out.
    I closed my eyes, calling up a picture of
Pastor Graham, dressed all in black, his thick forearms wrapped
around my waist. I rubbed, slowly at first, as his lips met mine.
His hands roamed my naked form, rough and callused against my soft
skin. My legs shook as I rubbed harder, caught up in my fantasy.
His lips were at my neck, sucking lightly at my throat and driving
me wild with desire. I grew wet, willing myself to rub faster, to
finish what I had started before I no longer had time to.
    It welled up inside me, insidious but sweet.
A gentle pressure that begged to be released. I quickened my pace,
gasping as my sinful thoughts led me down the path to damnation. My
free hand flew out, grabbing at the dresser to steady myself as I
climaxed. My legs shook and my body shuddered, fully in the thrall
of my unclean desires. When it was over, I laid my head against the
top of the dresser, too ashamed to move. What was I going to do?
Then Mother yelled and I scurried into the bathroom to get cleaned
up. Dinner would be soon.
    ***
    My