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Authors: Abby Chance

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BOOK: Saint Bad Boy
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Steve then thrust his hips out of the water and revealed his hard, black cock. It was as long as Jake’s but not as thick. Gloria grabbed it and put her thick, supple lips around his throbbing, engorged head. Gloria, who always told me she never did stuff with her boyfriend beyond a rub, had clearly lied. Her technique was flawless, as she stroked and sucked Steve’s cock with the precision of a porn star.

Brandon awoke from his comatose state and slowly switched positions with Chrissy. He grabbed her from behind and pulled her thong down to her thighs. While his back was turned to us, he grabbed at his groin area and wiggled his ass a bit as he penetrated Chrissy from behind. Powerful thrusts followed, as his athletically sculpted ass tightened, pounding away at Chrissy’s lithe physique.

“Hoooooly shiiiiiit,” she lustfully shrieked.

“Keep sucking that shit,” Steve commanded Gloria, in a sexy rough tone. He then put a finger up my pussy as I continued to jerk Jake’s massive cock off. I didn’t resist, as I felt my natural moisture oozing all over Steve’s finger with slippery viscosity. I began moaning lightly. Jake put his hand on my chin and gently lifted my head and asked, “Does that feel good?”

“Oh my God, yes...,” I responded, my eyes closed as I was consumed by the overwhelming pleasure.

“Let me see your big fucking tits,” Jake said, as he snapped the bra over my breasts. Jake arched forward and began sucking on my nipples as my hand continued to be fastened to his cock. I was getting finger-banged while another fine, young specimen was sucking on my tits. My body began trembling uncontrollably. The sights, sounds, and sensations were overloading the circuitry of my nervous system.

“Oh my God...please don’t stop Steve,” I yelled. “Ughh...fuuu...right there.”

My strokes and grip became tighter as Steve’s finger penetrated my pussy deeper and faster.

As Chrissy was getting fucked senseless by Brandon and, riding him in a reverse cowgirl position, she said, “Jake....fuck this feels so fucking good...I want to see your cock cum.”

Jake lifted his hips and his huge dick popped out of the water like a phallic leviathan, my hand acting as its captor. Steve got up and stood behind me, ready to stick his black cock up my pussy. It was comforting feeling the warm touch of his hands on my ass. He leaned into my ear and asked, “Can I fuck you?”

I shook my head and said, “No, just keep fingering me.”

Jake began stringing together stuttered moans, signaling that he was about to have his jizz explode all over me.              

“Swallow, Jess,” said Chrissy.

“No,” I said.

Jake’s cock began to spasm. He moaned loudly and his balls began retracting. His hot, sticky load shot out of his cock like a series of magmatic eruptions. His cum landed on my chest and my chin, I had no idea it was as warm as it was. Jake’s upper chest was bright red, his face displayed ultimate vulnerability, and his breathing labored into short bursts. I had made Jake cum and that carried a hefty satisfaction that I never anticipated feeling.

As Steve continued to finger-bang me, his body began to spasm as well. His moans and groans grew louder as he was about to cum in Gloria’s mouth. Simultaneously, I was about to cum too. It was an incredible feeling, like a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I then noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I looked at the mirror in the bathroom and noticed a crucifix hanging in Chrissy’s parents’ bedroom wall. I immediately felt a horrific sense of guilt begin to consume and overtake the pleasurable feelings I was experiencing in the hot tub. I then moved Steve’s hand away from my pussy and got out of the tub. I didn’t say a word and began gathering my clothes.

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked.

Everyone stopped their fucking, sucking, and fingering and stared at me as I exited the bathroom. I put my clothes on as I walked down the stairs, I nearly tripped as I tried putting on one of my shoes. My buzz was starting to wear off and suddenly I began experiencing a headache. I left the house and walked home that morning. Unfortunately, that night was the last time I ever talked to Gloria, or Chrissy, Steve, Brandon, and Jake for that matter. I was horrified and wondered how I would ever be able to justify that night to God and to myself.

 

Chapter Five

 

Mother
Superior, Janice Christensen, placed the white veil over my head. She gave me a warm smile, and her eyes shimmered with a twinkle of innocence. Her wrinkled cheeks hung slightly below her chin as this was her 500th time in 68 years of service that she was anointing a new sister to the Sister Order of St. Francis. I had just ended my postulancy, and was formally accepted to the order after completing 6 months of rigorous training.

“Welcome, Sister Jess,” she said, in a jovial yet frail voice.

The other nuns in the group clapped as they welcomed me into their convent. I felt relieved that I made it through the first few months and was glad to have such wonderful support along the way. It was a challenge making my transition from a world of unlimited temptations to a cordoned sanctuary of peace, service, and perpetual vows to the Lord.

All the nuns in our group congratulated me by giving pats on my back and shaking my hand. Dinner had passed and it was time for bed. This was my first night at the convent and Sister Luz stayed behind. She wanted to show me to my room.

“Sister, I am so happy for you,” said Sister Luz, who was in her early thirties and was the youngest nun in the convent after me. “Follow me, let me show you to your new room.”

“Of course,” I said, with a smile.

The convent was rather large. There were a total of nine nuns within its confines and all, luckily, had rooms to themselves. This resulted in optimal privacy for each one of us, which in the world of sisters, was the exception and not the rule.

“It’s rather small, but at least its your own room,” she said.

“Oh, it’s no bother.” I said with a smile. “My room at home was very small too.”

Sister Luz opened the door to my room, which was located at the end of the hall right next to the small chapel in the convent. There was a single window, a small desk, and a twin sized bed. Next to the bed was a nightstand where a laptop rested.

“We have laptops?” I asked Luz.

“Yes, Father Wilson is very technologically advanced.”

“Really?”

“Well, he thinks that the internet is a powerful tool that can help us with the theological truths of Jesus through extensive research.”

“But the internet is full of temptation and sin,” I said.

Luz let out a demure chuckle and said, “Don’t worry, there is a firewall. All of the devil’s work cannot be accessed.”

Good, I thought. Last thing I want is to be tempted by Google and its limitless window of carnal enticements, I thought.

“Is there anything else you need before I head off to bed?”

“No, I think that’s it,” I said. “Oh wait, I almost forgot—where’s the bathroom?”

“It’s the door on the right of the chapel.”

“Okay, thank you.” I said, as Luz turned around and headed down the hall to her bedroom. “Good night!”

“Good night,” said Luz.

I picked up my rosary and knelt in front of the crucifix in my room. I began asking the Lord for forgiveness.

“Lord, I am sorry for acting out on my urges. Please forgive me for I am young and naïve, and had no intention of hurting you.”

I felt a tear begin to slide slowly down my cheek. The intensity of my guilt was overwhelming.

“Why did you make Jake so desirable? Why did you make sex so pleasurable?” I asked.

My pussy began to quake as I began running images of that night through my head again. My praying became an exercise in visualization rather than an exercise of self reflection and piety. I put the rosary down, picked up the phone and dialed. My hand was trembling.

“Andrew. It’s me, Jess.”

“Hey Jess, are you a nun yet?”

“Yes, I’m here at the convent,” I said, as I began to touch myself. My pussy was overrun with wetness.

“What’s going on?”

“I need you to help me break a firewall.”

“Have you tried a proxy yet?” he asked.

I lightly moaned into the phone.

“Are you okay,” asked Andrew.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said, as I rubbed the edge of my clit with my finger. “What’s the proxy?”

“Try pageclean.com”

“Okay, I gotta go,” I said, as I hung up the phone.

I quickly opened up my laptop and went to the proxy site. I then googled images of dicks and looked for one that looked like Jake’s. I found a smooth, flesh colored, eight-inch cock that looked exactly like Jake’s. I envisioned myself grabbing it and putting it in my mouth, placing my tongue beneath his head. Feeling his tight stomach undulate to the touch of my hand as he thrusts his gorgeous meat stick down my throat.

I instantly came as I finger-banged myself with three fingers, emulating what Jake’s huge cock would feel like if it ever entered my moist, 18 year old pussy.

I laid on my bed staring up at the ceiling. My panties down at my ankles. I had a sudden realization that living life as a nun was going to be a challenge. I think I was addicted to what dick looks like and what it feels like. Even though I had never had sex, it was something I wanted to try just once. I had to keep my desire a secret or else be banished from the opportunity to one day be forgiven for my transgressions.

 

Book Two:

Extreme Addiction

 

 

Chapter One

 

I
joined my mother outside a coffee shop which had suddenly become the popular hangout spot in our town because it was used in a nationally televised commercial for a humorous Super Bowl car ad featuring a talking baby and a hip, fast-talking Jesus.

“I think the baby sat right here,” my mother declared, hovering over one of the coffee shop’s varnished reed chairs. “And Jesus sat where you are when he said even he won’t forgive the competition—is it considered blasphemous that I laughed at the commercial?”

“Its okay mom,” I said, with a doting smile. “The commercial was funny. The world is changing, and as long as you keep your faith and live your life by the tenants of our Lord and savior, it’s okay to laugh at ourselves every now and then.”

I sat down and placed my cafe mocha on the iron threaded table. Mother followed suit and smiled behind her large, bug-like sunglasses.

As the morning sun splashed her weathered face, I noticed she had applied some makeup for the first time in years. Just this past weekend we talked on the phone and she told me she was dating again. I sensed happiness in her for the first time in a long time, as she couldn’t stop talking about Hank, who was the only single deacon in our parish.

“Did I tell you Hank has ten years of frozen meat stocked in his commercial grade freezer down in his basement?” she told me, with morbid excitement.

“Yeah, you told me already,” I said, as I squinted at the morning glare. “Why do you keep bringing that up?”

“Hank thinks the end of the world will come during our lifetime. I love that he is prepared. He sent me a post on my Facebook about how if we reelect the president, the mark of the beast will be fulfilled and the end times will begin.”

On one hand, I was happy mother was finally getting out of the house, on the other, I was afraid that the first man to have influence over her since my late father was in desperate need of some counseling, and of the serious kind, you know the type of help that could be found outside a church group, which might require medication.

“Mother, we are Catholics, not end-timers,” I reprimanded. “The Book of Revelation is mainly symbolic. Remember what Father Mike said, John was under heavy duress when he wrote it.”

Mother sat back in her chair while grabbing her coffee. She took a small sip from her cup. Her hand had a slight tremble to it. “You’re right, Jessie. Why should I question anyone who has fully given herself to the Lord,” she said, as she reached over for my hand on the table. “I am so proud of you.”

“Thanks mom, I’ve given up a lot so I can understand the word of God clearly.”

“You look so beautiful in your habit,” she said.

“Really? I thought it made me look a little older than I am.”

“How is the convent treating you?”

“I won’t lie, it’s been kinda tough. I’m only twenty and its very hard seeing everyone my age on TV having a blast. I don’t regret my decision, it’s just rough, you know?”

Mother leaned over the table and gripped my hand tighter this time. “I know you feel this is what your father wanted from you. But you must ask yourself if this is what you really want?”

I looked into my mother’s eyes, or at least her sunglasses, where a young girl’s face, with indecisive green eyes, reflected off the dark plastic lenses. I feigned confidence when I said, “Of course this is what I wanted.”

Mother didn’t smile. Instead, she placed her sunglasses on the table and gave me a pair of lonely eyes. I had the feeling she wanted to have me around again, but didn’t quite know how to ask me.

“I’m leaving Friday,” I said.

“You are? But you said you would lead our prayer group Saturday after lunch at Don Miguel’s.”

“I know mother, but I need to get out of the convent. I’ve decided to join Sister Janice and help out in Zaire for a month or so. I was surprised she invited me to help with our mission, especially since I’m new and all.”

“Zaire? Is that out in New Mexico?”

“Africa.”

Mother almost did a spit-take after committing to a large sip of her coffee. “Africa? That place is dangerous, please change your mind.”

“Africa is a large place, Zaire is one of the good countries. The church has had an established presence outside Kinshasa for many years now and they want me to come with the sisters to teach the children about U.S. Culture.”

Mother leaned back in her chair, pursing her lips. “You couldn’t pick the inner city or something; you know, somewhere just as dangerous but a little bit closer?”

“Mom, please stop saying it’s dangerous. It’s really beautiful from what I hear.”

She stood up from her chair and came over to me and stretched out her stubby little arms. “Come here.”

I stood up and quickly embraced her.

“I’m sorry for being distant these past few years,” she said softly into my ear. “I was devastated over your father.”

I rested my head on mother’s left shoulder and felt my eyes beginning to well up. This was the most emotional I had seen her since my father’s funeral.

“It’s okay, we all cope with loss differently,” I said.

Mother pulled away but still held firm onto my arms. She quickly wiped the tears away from her eyes. “Be safe, you hear me?”

“I will, I promise.”

“You don’t have to do this whole nun thing, if you don’t want to, you know?” she sniffled.

I stared softly into her eyes. I had a feeling she read my subconscious. I sensed that she saw the weakness inside me. A young primal female that would rather roam free instead of being locked in by guilt. But I made the choice to serve God. I wasn’t a quitter and I felt that my good deeds would eventually put me a lot closer to the pinnacle of spirituality rather than the depths induced by the vices of humanity. Africa seemed like a good place to serve the less fortunate without being constantly tempted and surrounded by American decadence.

BOOK: Saint Bad Boy
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