Exile
 
(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html 

 
Note:  This is my story.  The names and details have been changed to 
protect the privacy of those involved.  Some of this account has been 
reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a journal I 
kept during these years. 
 
This is a sequel to _Wanderings_, which can be found on my asstr.org site:
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/wander/index.html

 



Chapter Three - Gimme Shelter (Mf bf teen oral drugs)



We were moving.  I sat up and looked around.  It was light out.  
Suddenly, the cab stopped short and I hit my head against the partition.

"Who are you?  Get out my cab!  Get out!"  The driver, a man with a 
bushy black mustache, pulled over to the curb and got out.  He banged on 
the window and opened the back door, all the while yelling in a language 
I couldn't understand.  I grabbed my bag and went out the opposite door, 
running as fast as I could.  The driver got back in his cab and drove 
off.

I found myself standing under an elevated train track, next to a big 
cathedral.  People were going inside, even though it was early and the 
sun was barely up.  I crossed the street and followed them into the 
church, quietly taking a seat in a back pew.  I felt like I'd only had a 
couple of hours of sleep, so I closed my eyes and dozed off to the sound 
of Mass.

"Sweetheart?  Sweetheart?"

I opened my eyes.  The church was empty except for the grey-haired 
priest sitting next to me.

"I'm awake, sir," I said.

"Are you in some trouble, dear?  Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, I'm okay, thanks."

"Is there someone I can call for you?"

"No."

"Come with me, dear.  Come."  He gave me a look of pity and held out his 
hand, taking me back behind the ornate altar and into an office.  While 
I sat down and looked around at the rich paneling and portraits of men 
in cassocks and robes, he made a phone call.

"...yes...no...this morning's mass...a split lip and a bit of a shiner, 
I'm afraid...perhaps...about thirteen or 
fourteen...yes...yes...wonderful...very good...thank you."

"Was that the police?"  I asked.  I began to resign myself to being 
shipped back to Maine.

"No, dear.  That was Father Ken.  He runs a youth ministry and shelter."

"I'm not Catholic," I said.

"That doesn't matter," he replied, walking over to where I was seated.  
"He'll help you."

"Thank you," I said.  While we waited for Father Ken, the priest let me 
use the office's small bathroom.  My cheek was bruised from hitting the 
glass in the back of the cab and my lip was swollen where Sandi had cut 
me.  I washed up and brushed my hair.  When I emerged, there was another 
priest in the office, somewhat younger, with longish hair and Elvis-like 
sideburns.

"I'm Father Ken," he said, holding out his hand.  "What's your name?"

"Anne," I said.

"Are you hungry, Anne?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, come with me.  I'll see that you get some breakfast, and then we 
can talk.  Is that all right?"

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir."

Father Ken had a brief conversation with the other priest and then we 
left.  The shelter was just a few blocks away, in an old brownstone on a 
block that had seen better days.  The halls smelled like disinfectant 
but it was warm, with steam heat hissing from the radiators.  He led me 
into a small dining room, with a couple of rows of tables and benches, 
the kind school cafeterias have.  While I waited, Father Ken went to the 
adjoining kitchen and spoke to someone I couldn't see.  A few minutes 
later, a nun appeared with a tray.  She placed it in front of me, 
smiled, and left.

The eggs were runny, the toast was burnt, and there was no coffee, but I 
didn't care.  I devoured the meal in under a minute, and when the nun 
returned to fetch the tray, I asked for another helping.  She was happy 
to oblige.

Father Ken returned with a notebook and pencil and asked me a few 
questions.  I told him about my family, Julia, the foster home, 
carefully sanitizing the events of the past few days.  I told him about 
Mr. Hubbard, though, and Father Ken's eyebrows arched when I told him 
about the encounter in the bathroom.  When I had finished my tale, he 
just sat there, silently mouthing a prayer.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I'm not going to send you back to Maine, if that's what you're afraid 
of."

"Thank you," I said, feeling relieved.

"Come, let me show you to your room.  You can wash up and have a nap, 
and then we can figure out what to do," he said.  I followed him 
upstairs, to the top floor.  He showed me into a small room with a cot 
and a dresser.  There was a bathroom across the hall, with a claw-footed 
bathtub and an old porcelain sink.  Father Ken left for a moment and 
returned with a couple of towels.

"Here.  I've started a nice warm bath for you," he said, handing me the 
towels.

"Thanks."  I followed him down the hall to the bathroom.

"Why don't you give me your clothes, and I can have Sister Bernice put 
them in the laundry," he said.

"Um, okay," I said.  I felt a bit funny getting undressed in front of 
him, but he was a priest, so it had to be okay, like going to the doctor 
or something.  I pulled off my sweater and jeans and handed them over, 
standing before him in Sandi's leopard print panties.

"Where did you get those?" he asked.  There was an edge to his voice.

"Um...I borrowed them," I said, which was technically true.

"Hand them over," Father Ken demanded.  "I'll look for something more 
'age-appropriate' among the donations."

I slowly stepped out of Sandi's panties and handed them over, standing 
before him cross-legged, hoping he wouldn't notice the tampon string 
between my legs.  Even though my flow had stopped right after Sandi 
kicked me out of the loft, I was still riding the white pony, just in 
case.

After Father Ken left with my clothes, I tested the bath water and got 
into the tub.  There was a threadbare washcloth and a half of a bar of 
mild soap.  Nothing like the expensive bath oil that Julia used to buy 
for me, but it would have to do.  I cleaned myself up and was about to 
relax in the tub when the door opened unexpectedly.  Father Ken didn't 
believe in knocking.

"This is the largest size I could find," he said, placing an unopened 
package of girls' cotton panties next to the tub.  He'd also brought a 
pair of boys' trousers and a grey sweatshirt.

"I have clothes with me," I said.

"I know, and most of them were not what I would consider 'age 
appropriate'.  And I found a substantial amount of money in your coat."

"Hey!  That's my..."  I was pissed that he'd gone through my clothes, 
but this was even worse.

"Don't worry.  You'll get it back.  I'm just holding on to it for safe-
keeping," he said.

"Oh..."

"But I can't help to be curious about how you came into that much 
money," Father Ken said.  I hadn't told him about picking my foster 
parent's pocket while I blew him.

"Have you been working the streets?" he asked in a softer tone.

"No."

"Then how...?"

"I found it."

"You found it?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I found it in Mr. Hubbard's pocket while he was fucking my face!" I 
shouted, startling the priest to the point that he took a step back.

"I see," he finally said.  "I see."

By this point in the conversation, I had drawn my knees up and had my 
arms crossed over my chest.  Father Ken had been looking at me, not as a 
priest but as a man, and I had instinctively covered myself.

"I'll leave you then, until dinner," he said, exiting the bathroom.

The panties he'd brought were a size too small, but they were new.  The 
sweatshirt and pants were obviously hand-me-downs, but they fit well 
enough.  Returning to my room, I noticed that my clothes were gone, but 
my coat, hair brush, toothbrush, notebook, and shoes were still here, as 
was the box of tampons.  I wanted to write in my notebook, but I didn't 
have a pen.  A quick search of the room turned up nothing to write with 
and only a Bible to read.  Bored, I opened it up, but one of the room's 
previous occupants had covered almost every page with crude drawings of 
male genitalia and copulating stick figures.

I felt like a prisoner.

The metal grate on the window did nothing to dispel this illusion.  The 
view through the grimy window was of an alley lined with trash barrels 
and the occasional dumpster.  As if on cue, a grey rat poked its nose 
from under one of the bins and darted across the slush.

With nothing else to do, I lay down on the lumpy mattress and tried to 
rest, but I was too anxious, too nervous to sleep.  There was too much 
uncertainty in this situation.  Where was I going to go?  Was Father Ken 
going to place me with another foster family?  Orphanage?  Convent?  I 
felt like I was about to get swallowed into this gigantic institution.  
I felt powerless.


                                  * * *


The door opened a few hours later.  Father Ken stepped in and sat down 
on the edge of the bed.  He looked at me without speaking for a while.

"Dinner is about to be served downstairs," he finally said.

"Thank you," I said.  I followed him out of the room.  "Father Ken?"

"Yes, Anne?"

"What if I want to leave?"  We stopped at the top of the stairs and he 
turned to me.

"Anne, it's in your best interests to stay.  You're safe here.  You have 
a nice warm bed and a bath.  Sister Bernice cooks a pretty good meal," 
he said, an earnest expression on his face.

"The front door is always unlocked," he continued.  "You can walk out 
any time you want.  But I'd like you to stay, if not for you, then for 
me."  Father Ken gave me a long, searching look.

"Okay.  I guess."   His sincerity dispelled any apprehensions I had in 
the bathroom earlier.  I was sold.

His expression brightened, and he gave my hand a squeeze.  I followed 
him downstairs, back to the dining room where Sister Bernice had served 
me breakfast.  There were about a dozen boys seated at the cafeteria-
style tables, along with five or six priests.  Everyone looked up when 
Father Ken and I entered the room.  I took a seat at an empty table, and 
a minute later Father Ken returned with a tray of food.  He sat with me 
and watched me devour a bowl of chili and two slices of white bread.

No one spoke the whole time I was there.  Occasionally, one of the 
priests or a few of the boys would glance in my direction.  The boys 
would steal a look and then whisper something to the person next to 
them.  None of them were older than fourteen or younger than ten, and I 
couldn't help but think about my late stepbrothers.  This only 
compounded the awkwardness I felt.

When I had finished my meal, Father Ken took the tray back to the 
kitchen.  He returned a moment later and leaned over to whisper in my 
ear.

"Come down to my office in an hour or two, and we'll talk some more," he 
said, straightening up and giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze before 
leaving the table to talk to some of the other kids.

After dinner I headed back to my room, stopping off at the front desk to 
snatch a pencil.  As I headed up the stairs, I noticed one of the boys 
and one of the priests heading down the hall and into one of the rooms.  
As he closed the door, the priest, an older gentleman like the one at 
the cathedral, gave me a strange look.  As I sat in bed, writing in my 
notebook, this look stuck with me.

After writing for a couple of hours, jotting down the events of the last 
couple of days, I went downstairs to Father Ken's office.  He had two 
rooms, one with a desk and shelves of books, and another smaller room, 
sparsely furnished, with just a bed and a small table, and a bathroom 
not much bigger than a closet.  The only decoration was a crucifix and a 
framed print of some saint with a glowing yellow halo.  Father Ken was 
seated at his desk, and he motioned for me to sit down in a chair across 
from him.

"Dinner okay?" he asked, looking up from a sheaf of papers.

"Yes, it was fine, thank you."

"You're a very polite young lady," he said.

"Thank you, sir."

"Call me Ken."  He took a sip of amber liquid from a glass on his desk.

"Okay, sir...er, Ken."

"I don't know about Maine, but in this state things move pretty slowly.  
It might be a while before we can place you in a good home."

"Oh.  I see."

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you need," he said, taking 
another sip.

"Thank you."

"We don't often have girls here, but I'm sure things will work out.  
You'll be one of the boys in no time.  We might have to cut your hair, 
though."

"Cut my hair?"

"Just a bit.  Some of the boys come in with head lice.  It's just a 
precaution."

"You're going to shave my head?"  I began to panic.  I loved my long 
hair.

"No, no, no.  Just to shoulder length or so.  Is that all right?"

"I guess," I said, even though it wasn't.

"Fine.  We can have one of the sisters do it tomorrow.  There's no 
rush."

We spoke a bit longer, mostly about my family, my mother's death, and 
the churches my Catholic stepfather attended, in Florida and Maine.  
After about an hour, Father Ken wished me a good night and I returned to 
my room.  As I passed the room where the boy and the priest had gone 
earlier, I could hear the squeaking of a bed.  The kid must have been 
jerking off.  As I closed my door, I began to imagine this, picturing 
the boy laying in bed, his jockey shorts around his knees, stroking his 
smooth boycock and squeezing his hairless balls.  I was momentarily 
tempted to knock on his door and offer to take care of his erection for 
him, but thought better of it.

This mental image began to make me horny, but I didn't want to make my 
bed squeak.  I thought about taking another bath, but there was no lock 
on the door and someone might barge in.  I looked around and decided to 
lie on the floor and pleasure myself.  There was a small, ratty rug 
covering part of the wooden floor.  I took off my pants and lay down, 
rubbing my labia through the tight cotton panties.

Just then I remembered I was wearing a tampon.  I put the pants back on 
and went across the hall to the common bathroom.  My flow had completely 
stopped, so I took it out and threw it in the wastebasket.  As I was 
returning to my  room, I noticed the priest leaving the boy's room, the 
one where the bed had been squeaking.  This was odd, but I was so intent 
on getting off that I thought little of it.

I was laying on the rug, my panties down around my ankles, furiously 
frigging my clit when there was a knock on the door.  Quickly, I pulled 
up my panties and jumped into my pants, wiping my fingers off on the leg 
before opening the door.  It was an older priest I'd never seen before.

"Who are you?  Where's Tommy?" he asked.  His breath smelled of liquor.

"Who's Tommy?" I asked.

"This is his room," the priest said.

"I thought it was my room," I replied.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Just today."

"I see.  Sorry to bother you."  With that he turned on his heel and 
left.

This all but killed my urge to get off.  I sat down on my bed for a 
while before reaching for the copy of the Bible, the one that had been 
defaced.  I turned to a random page of obscene drawings.  A crudely 
drawn dick was penetrating what looked like buttocks, and the drawing 
was captioned in a child's handwriting: "Fathur Miek" and "Me".  I 
suddenly realized what had been going on in the boy's room, and what the 
drunken priest wanted with Tommy, in whose room I was staying.  I 
wondered if Tommy had drawn this.

I thought about moving the dresser over to block the door before going 
to bed, but decided against it.  Still, it took me a while to drift off 
to sleep.


                                  * * *


A sharp rap on my door woke me up the next morning.  I got out of bed to 
see who it was, but they were gone.  The bathroom was unoccupied, so I 
wrapped a towel around me and went to take a shower.  I was in the 
middle of rinsing off when someone opened the door, muttered a quick 
"Sorry!" and left.  I finished quickly and went back to my room to dry 
off.

After breakfast, Sister Bernice took me into one of the bathrooms and 
cut my hair.  It wasn't a complete disaster.  The bangs were a little 
uneven, but at least my hair was still longish, nearly coming down to my 
shoulders in sort of a pageboy cut.  All in all, it was better than 
getting head lice.

After she cut my hair, Sister Bernice brought me downstairs to the 
basement, where four small classrooms had been set up.  She escorted me 
into one in which four boys my age were seated across from an older nun 
behind an ancient wooden desk.

"Sister Josephine, boys, this is Anne," Sister Bernice said, by way of 
introductions.

"Good morning, Anne.  Please take a seat," Sister Josephine said.  With 
that, Sister Bernice left to begin making lunch.  I sat down in an empty 
seat between two boys.  Sister Josephine resumed her English lesson.

I kept my eyes and attention on the lesson, but I could feel the boys' 
gaze on me, checking me out.  The boy to my right had fair complexion 
and blondish  hair, but the one to my left had olive skin and bore a 
faint resemblance to Del.  I felt a familiar pang in my chest, the 
feeling of loss.  I'd never get to see my stepbrothers grow up to be 
men.  I missed them so much.

I was virtually alone with my thoughts that day.  None of the boys would 
talk to me, even at lunch, and Sister Josephine didn't call on me in 
class.  When we were dismissed that afternoon, I went back to my room to 
do my homework.

When I came down for dinner later on, I was greeted with the same sight 
as the day before, the boys eating quietly with a few priests seated 
among them.  Except for one familiar face, it was a different group of 
priests from the night before.  While I was eating, Father Ken came by 
to talk to some of them, joking around and laughing with his colleagues.

"Anne, come see me in my office after dinner," he said before leaving.

"Is anything wrong?"  I asked.

"No, no, not at all.  I found some more clothing you might be able to 
wear," he replied.

"Oh, thank you," I said, wishing I could have my own clothes back.  I 
wasn't able to pack much when I left Maine, but I did bring along my 
favorite skirt and a sweater I really liked, as well as some nice 
underwear that Julia had bought me.

I finished my homework after dinner, and after writing in my journal for 
a while, I went downstairs to Father Ken's office.  He invited me 
inside.  There was a small pile of clothes on a chair.  Father Ken was 
stretched out behind his desk, a drink in his hand.  While I stood 
across from his desk, he refilled it from a bottle he kept in a lower 
drawer.

"Why don't you try these on and see if they fit," he said, taking a sip.

"Here?"

"Yes," he said.

Slowly, I unzipped my pants and let them fall, stepping out of them and 
pulling off my sweatshirt.  Feeling awkward standing in front of him in 
my panties, I quickly reached for the pile of clothes, picking an item 
at random.  It was a little pink sundress, made for a girl no older than 
ten or eleven.  Tight around the chest, the hem barely covered my 
bottom.

"Turn around," he said.

I complied, looking around for a mirror and seeing none.  I supposed 
Father Ken would be my mirror.  I struggled out of the dress and reached 
into the pile again.  There was a pleated plaid uniform skirt that was a 
little tight around the waist but otherwise fit well.  I felt 
embarrassed wearing the skirt; growing up in Florida we'd constantly 
make fun of the parochial school kids for having to wear uniforms while 
we went to school in shorts and pretty skirts and dresses.  I took it 
off and put it aside, selecting another item from the pile of clothes.

In the end, there were only four items that fit: the plaid skirt, a 
white button-down blouse, another sweatshirt, and my favorite skirt.  
Somehow, my clothes had been thrown into the donation pile.  I grabbed 
the skirt, hoping Father Ken wouldn't notice.  He'd been watching me 
closely while I tried on clothes, but had turned to refill his drink.

"Find anything that fit?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."  I held up the items that I could wear.

"What about that pink dress?"

"It was a little small," I said.

"Nonsense.  It looked fine on you."

"Okay, I guess," I said, taking the little dress out of the pile and 
putting it with my new clothes.  I hoped that he never asked me to wear 
it.

"Good, good," he said, getting up from his desk.  "Now there's something 
else we need to do.  Come."

Father Ken motioned for me to follow him into the small bedroom off of 
his office, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the mattress.  
Slowly, I followed him and sat down next to him, dressed only in my 
panties.

"I just need to examine you," he said, quietly.  "This won't hurt."

"Okay."

Father Ken looked in my ears, eyes, and mouth, just like a pediatrician, 
though I was pretty sure he didn't have any medical education.  At least 
there were no medical certificates hanging on his office walls.  I 
flinched when he touched my shoulder, expecting his hands to be cold, 
but they were warm and sweaty.

"Stand up," he said.  He examined my arms, looking for needle tracks, I 
guess, and had me turn around.  He traced my spine and his hand grazed 
my bottom, ever so lightly, as if by accident.

"Face me."

His fingers lightly grazed my breasts, making my nipples stand up.  I 
could feel a blush spreading across my cheeks, and tried not to look him 
in the eye, but I couldn't help but notice his expression, a combination 
of hunger and fascination, as if he'd never seen a girl before.

"Okay, lie down, Anne."  I lay on my back on his bed and felt him 
tugging at the waistband of my panties.

"These fit okay?" he asked.

"They're a little tight, sir."

"I'll try to find something bigger.  Let's take these off for now."

Father Ken pulled my panties down, slowly, gradually, drawing them down 
my thighs and off my legs.  I kept my thighs together, apprehensive, 
uncertain of what was going to happen.  Was Father Ken going to make 
love to me?  Or was this part of his "examination"?  He glanced at my 
discarded panties, as if to make note of the size, and then placed his 
hand on my thigh.

"Relax, Anne.  Would you like something to relax?"

"Um, yes, please."  I thought he was going to pour me a drink like Papi 
used to do sometimes, a little bit of rum in a glass on a weekend night 
before we had a little fun, but Father Ken returned with a glass of 
water and a little yellow pill.

"Take this," he said.  He watched me swallow it and wash it down with 
some water, taking a sip of his drink at the same time.

"Now lie back and relax.  Let me look at you."  He sat down on the bed.

I took a deep breath and let him touch me, cupping my little breasts, 
feeling the skin on my belly, prying my thighs apart and looking at my 
pussy.  I sighed as the pill began to take effect, feeling a growing 
sense of detachment from my body.  I looked up at the crucifix hanging 
on the wall over the bed and thought of the time Julia tied me to her 
bed, spread-eagle, and made me come so hard that I passed out cold.  I 
wondered if Father Ken would like to tie me up and lick me down there.  
His hands were cupping my mons and I felt his fingers brush my labia.  I 
wondered if he could tell I was getting wet thinking about Julia and 
Jesus and the leather restraints.

I felt the bed shaking slightly and looked down.  Father Ken had his 
cock out and was jerking it with short, fast strokes.  I reached for his 
lap.  I wanted to do that for him.  In my drug-induced haze, I thought 
that if I jerked him off I could get my clothes back, maybe even my 
money, but he gently brushed my hand away without missing a beat.

I felt completely uninhibited, though, and began to play with myself.  I 
hadn't come in a couple of days, and the pill Father Ken had given me 
only made me hornier.  Shamelessly, I began to tease my clit, gently 
kneading my breasts with my other hand.  Father Ken watched closely, 
never taking his eyes of me as he jerked off.

My clit felt electric, with the slightest contact sending chills down my 
spine and a tingling through my belly.  I circled it with a fingertip 
while I watched Father Ken.  He was handsome, youthful despite a few 
grey hairs, with clear blue eyes and sharp features, though his face was 
a bit slack from drinking.  I thought about kissing him, feeling his 
lips against my own, smelling his cologne, having his hands roam over my 
body.  Even more than the sight of him stroking his hardness, the mental 
image of us making love in his bed was enough to set me off.  I gasped 
and arched my back as I climaxed, a nice, intense orgasm that curled my 
toes, making me bite my lips to keep from moaning too loud.

Father Ken's hand moved over his dick furiously, making the bed bump 
against the wall.  Suddenly, he stiffened and let out a deep breath as 
he came, his cock spurting its load in three wide arcs of semen, the 
first spraying across the bed and hitting me on the chest.  He kept 
pumping for a while and then stopped, getting up from the bed and 
rearranging his clothes.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, handing me a towel.  I wanted to 
just lay back in his bed and go to sleep, but Father Ken was already 
handing me my panties and wiping me off with a corner of the towel.  I 
got up on rubbery legs and got dressed, gathered my clothes, and left.  
The last look I had was of Father Ken pouring himself another drink.  
Since he'd come, he hadn't looked me in the eye once.

I managed to haul myself upstairs to my room, but though I could have 
easily gone to sleep right then and there, I was still a bit sticky from 
Father Ken's semen.  I put away my new/old clothes and went across the 
hall to the bathroom to take a shower.  By this time I had figured that 
a broken pencil jammed between the door and frame would keep it from 
opening, so I took a nice hot bath instead of a quick shower.

Back in my room afterwards, I still felt the effects of the pill he'd 
given me, sleepiness, euphoria, inhibition.  I got into bed naked and 
played with myself for a while, though I fell asleep before I could come 
again.

The sound of the door opening and a bright shaft of light woke me up.  I 
looked over at my window and saw that it was still dark out.  A 
silhouette blocked the light from the hall, a slow-moving figure who was 
whispering something.

"Tommy?  Tommy?  Are you there?"  It was the drunken priest who had 
knocked on the door the night before.

"Tommy's not here," I replied, but the priest closed the door and 
shuffled over to the bed.

"Tommy?  I'm here, Tommy.  Where are you?"

"He's not here," I repeated, to no avail.

"Tommy?  Where are your hands, Tommy?  Show me your hands."

I pulled my hands from under the blanket and showed them to him.  He 
grabbed them and pressed them against his crotch, against his half-hard 
penis.  Before I could pull my hands away he had his pants unzipped and 
had pulled out his hardening cock.  He wrapped my hands around his 
member and urged me to relieve him, moving his hips slightly so his cock 
glided between my fingers.  I started to stroke him quickly, the way 
Father Ken had touched himself, hoping he'd come quickly and leave me 
alone.

"Slow, boy.  You know the way I like it," the drunken cleric whispered.  
I began to stroke him slowly, using both hands to caress his hardness.  
His heavy breathing and the occasional squeaking bedspring were the only 
sounds in the room as I pleasured this confused old man.

"Good, that's so good, Tommy," he murmured.  I began to use more 
friction, rubbing him harder while still maintaining a slow, steady 
pace.  The priest's breathing got even heavier, and his hips kept moving 
against my hands while my fingers glided around his shaft and over his 
spongy cockhead.

"Here it comes, boy.  You know what to do," he rasped.  But I didn't 
know what to do.  What would Tommy do?  Who was this Tommy, anyway?  
Before any of the answers could come, I felt his cock begin to twitch.  
I improvised, leaning forward into his crotch and taking the head of his 
cock into my mouth just as a thin flow of semen began to dribble from 
his penis.  He gasped as I swirled my tongue over his cockhead, licking 
it clean.  He quickly grew flaccid, and I released him from my mouth.

The drunken priest stuffed his soft cock back in his pants.  I thought 
that this was it, that he was going to leave, but he began to probe the 
bed, pushing his hands under the covers, feeling around for my thighs.

"So soft...your skin is so soft, Tommy," he slurred.  He looked about to 
topple over, but instead he sat down hard on the edge of the bed, his 
hands groping towards my crotch.

"Let me rub your pee pee for you, Tommy, like I used to do," he 
whispered.  I felt my blood turn to ice, uncertain of what would happen 
when he found a pussy where he expected a boy's cock.  His fingers 
fumbled between my legs, gently, though, and not rough.  The stiff 
column of flesh he was seeking wasn't there, and even in the darkness 
his disappointment was visible.

"You're not Tommy," he said, sadly, straightening up and snatching his 
hands away.  "You're a girl."

I pulled the blankets up to my neck as he stood up, fearing an angry 
outburst, maybe a slap.  But he just straightened his clothing and left 
the room without a word, quietly closing the door in his way out.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to take in the weirdness of 
the last few hours.  My experience in Father Ken's office had the 
quality of a dream, disconnected events strung together with dream 
logic.  The embarrassment I felt while trying on clothes in front of 
him, the way he touched me, the pill, the crucifix, touching myself in 
front of him, his semen spilling on me.  Then there was the old priest, 
the alcohol on his breath, his hardness in my hand, the taste of his 
offering, the way his body stiffened when he found my cleft.  It was 
over so quickly, before I was fully awake.

And now I was alone with my thoughts, trying to understand what this all 
meant.  It was when I remembered the other night, when the priest took 
that boy into that room, the room where the bedsprings squeaked, and all 
the other priests that would show up for dinner every night.  This 
wasn't a shelter; it was a brothel.


                                  * * *


After dinner the next day, I went down to Father Ken's office and 
knocked on his door.  He was seated behind his desk as usual, a drink in 
his hand, classical music playing on the radio.

"Anne, I was about to send for you.  I found some more clothes that 
might fit you," he said.

"Thanks," I said, taking a seat across from his desk.  "Could we talk 
about something?"

"Sure," he replied.

"It's about last night."  Father Ken paused in mid-sip and put down his 
glass.

"About the...examination?"

"No, no.  This happened after that," I said.  Father Ken visibly relaxed 
when I said this.  I began to tell him about the elderly priest who had 
barged into my room.  I told him everything about the encounter, even 
how I took his cock into my mouth and swallowed his cum.  Father Ken 
began to look flushed, and he shifted in his seat a few times.

"Was it wrong what I did?" I asked.

"No, dear.  It wasn't wrong.  It was an act of Christian kindness."

"Who was he?"

"His name is Father LaRose, Father John LaRose.  He was my parish priest 
when I was growing up," Father Ken said.

"Who was Tommy?"  Father Ken's face saddened at the mention of the boy's 
name.

"Thomas was one of our more troubled children.  We placed him with a 
loving family, but he kept running away.  The last time, about six 
months ago, he was found dead of an overdose not far from here.  Father 
John was devastated.  Tommy was one of his favorites."

"Oh, I see," I said.  I began to feel sorry for Father John.  "Could I 
ask a favor?"

"What can I do for you, Anne?"

"Is there some way I can get a lock for my door?" I asked.  Jamming a 
pencil in the door frame worked in the bathroom, but not in my room, 
where countless layers of paint had made the gap too small.

"I understand if you don't want Father John barging in at all hours, but 
I'm afraid a lock is out of the question.  A matter of policy, you see."

"I see."

"I will have a talk with him, perhaps make your floor off-limits to him, 
especially when he's been drink...er, when it's late."

"Okay, thanks.  I just got scared when he woke me up."

"I understand completely.  Is there anything else?"

"Well..."

"Tell me," he urged.

"Could you give me another...examination?"

Father Ken nearly choked on his drink.  I guess he wasn't expecting 
that.  We hadn't talked about that at all, and I could tell that he 
wasn't sure about how I felt about his touching me and jerking off in my 
presence.  For my part, I was horny as hell, and Father Ken seemed like 
he'd gladly lend a hand or more.  I'd thought about getting to know one 
of the boys better, but none of them would talk to me yet.  Besides, 
Father Ken was a handsome man, a nice man.  I wanted to pleasure him, 
please him.

"Yes, we can do that.  Certainly."  Father Ken had barely recovered his 
composure.  "Tell you what: why don't you try some of these clothes on 
first,  okay?"

"Okay," I said.

I began to remove my blouse, skirt, and shoes, stripping down to my 
panties.  Unlike the night before, I didn't hesitate or show reluctance.  
I was unsure of what was happening then, uncomfortable to show myself to 
Father Ken.  But after our little "examination", I knew where I stood, 
where this was going.  I even felt like I had a bit of control over the 
situation.

On top of the pile of clothes was another package of girls' panties, 
this time closer to my size.  I skinned off the tight pair I was 
wearing, giving Father Ken a good look at my bare bottom as I bent over 
to pull up a new pair.  Like the others he'd given me, they were 
virginal white cotton with a little rosebud pattern, but these were 
bikini-cut instead of briefs.  The others made me feel like a ten-year-
old girl.

In the pile of clothes was a plaid uniform jumper that fit pretty well, 
a couple of long skirts that were too big but could be easily altered, 
and another skimpy sundress.  Like the one Father Ken gave me last 
night, it barely covered my bottom.  I could tell he liked it when I 
modeled it for him, the way his eyes were locked on me.  I turned around 
to pick up a discarded item, giving him a quick flash of my panties, and 
was rewarded with the sound of Father Ken drawing a quick breath.

After trying everything on, including my favorite sweater, which had 
somehow found its way into the donation pile, I stripped down to my 
panties again and sat on the corner of Father Ken's desk.

"Could I have another pill, please?  To relax, I mean."  Father Ken 
smiled and opened his desk, producing an orange prescription bottle.  He 
opened it and shook out a pair of pills, giving one to me and taking the 
other, washing it down with a sip of his drink.  I reached for his glass 
to take the pill, expecting something sweet and smooth like rum.  
Instead, I took a gulp of something harsher, harder, stronger, making my 
eyes water.

"Bourbon," Father Ken said.  I'd had that before, but always with ice or 
a mixer.  I coughed a few times, and Father Ken fetched me a glass of 
water.  I drained the glass and then we went into his small bedroom.  He 
sat down on his bed and I stood before him, tingling with anticipation.

"Father Ken?"

"Yes, Anne?"

"My breasts feel funny.  Will you kiss them?"

Without replying, he leaned closer to my heaving chest.  I could feel 
his breath caress my nipples before his lips made contact, followed by 
the delicious feeling of his tongue circling each nipple as he sucked 
them into his mouth.  I sighed and ran my hands over his back, through 
his hair.  Then I began unbuttoning his black shirt, starting at the 
starched white Roman collar that encircled his neck.

Father Ken stood up and pulled out his shirttails while I unbuckled his 
belt and undid his trousers.  In a moment he was down to his undershirt, 
boxers, black socks, and a small gold crucifix that hung from a fine 
chain around his neck.  He took off his shirt and shorts, and sat down 
again to take off his socks.  Finally, he was naked, save for the cross.  
He wasn't as hairy as I expected, just a sparse thatch on his chest and 
arms, not nearly as much as Ramon had on his body.  Below a slightly 
paunchy belly, his cock pointed skyward, hard and twitching.  He leaned 
in and continued sucking my nipples, his hands roaming over the backs of 
my thighs and my bottom.  I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of 
his caresses.

"All better?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Yes, thank you."

"Lay down so I can examine you," he said, keeping up the medical 
pretense even though we both knew it was a sham.  I stretched out on his 
bed, my legs slightly apart, the pill he'd given me making me feel 
lightheaded.  Father Ken began to gently stroke my thighs, grazing the 
crotch of my panties with a couple of fingers, making me shiver with 
delight and anticipation.

"Let's get these off," Father Ken said, tugging at my panties.  I lifted 
my bottom off the bed to help, and he slid them down my thighs and off 
my legs, letting them fall to the floor next to the bed.  He began to 
stroke my belly, moving his hand lower and lower until he was cupping my 
mons, one of his fingers lightly resting on my lips.  I reached down and 
pushed his finger inside me, gasping as his digit penetrated my pussy.  
I was very wet, and my clit was tingling from the contact with his 
finger.  Slowly, I began to hump his hand, making the bed softly squeak 
with my rhythm.

Father Ken began to stroke himself, and like the night before, I reached 
out for his hardness.  This time he let me touch him, let me stroke him, 
long slow strokes like I'd done with Father John's penis.  I wanted him 
to last so I could at least suck him or maybe get laid properly.

Father Ken's finger began to saw in and out of my snatch while I played 
with my clit, circling it with a wet fingertip.  The bed began to make 
more noises of protest, but we ignored it, lost in our pleasure.  I felt 
my climax begin to build slowly, steadily, pushing through the effects 
of the pill I'd taken.  I tried to keep stroking Father Ken's cock, but 
it was distracting me from my mounting pleasure.  He slipped another 
finger inside me and began to diddle me faster, making me catch my 
breath a few times as the tingling down there began to spread throughout 
my body.

Suddenly it hit me, an intense orgasm that reduced me to a quivering 
mass of jelly, making my limbs tense and relax as endless waves of 
pleasure washed over me.  I felt my pussy tighten around his fingers and 
he stopped banging my little box, withdrawing his digits and wiping them 
on the sheet.  I gave my clit one last swirl, gasping as the last waves 
of my climax receded like the tide.  I let out a deep breath and 
relaxed, hoping that I hadn't made too much noise.

"Feel better?" he asked.  I sat up on Father Ken's bed and put my arms 
around his neck, hugging him.  He held me in his arms, his hands 
hesitating as if he didn't know how to hold me, finally resting them on 
my hips.  I began to wonder if this was awkward for him, whether he'd 
really had any experience with a girl at all.  I gently kissed his neck 
and looked up at him.

"Your turn," I said.  "Lay back on the bed."

"You're going to examine me?" he asked with a laugh.

"You'll love this.  It's an oral exam."  Father Ken smiled and stretched 
out next to me.  I guided his thighs apart and curled up between them, 
getting my first close-up look at his cock and balls.  His penis wasn't 
very long, but it was thick, with his foreskin making it look even 
thicker.  I pulled the skin back and planted a gentle kiss on the fat 
purple head, making Father Ken gasp with surprise.

My pussy was still throbbing from his fingerfucking, and I had half a 
mind to straddle him and guide his cock inside me, but I didn't want to 
rush things.  Instead, I began to slowly suck him, gently cupping his 
balls with my hands.  As I began to establish a rhythm, Father Ken's 
hips began to move.  I looked up over his heaving chest and saw his eyes 
were closed, his mouth was open, a slack expression on his face.  It was 
as much a product of pills and alcohol as it was from my lips and 
tongue, and I wondered if he'd gone to sleep on me.

A stifled gasp as I swirled my tongue over his slick shaft told me 
otherwise.  I began to suck him harder, speeding up my rhythm and 
matching each bob of my head with my hand, sliding his foreskin up and 
down over his hard cock.  His member twitched when I probed between his 
cheeks with a finger, and his hips began to move faster, matching my 
speed.  I released him from my mouth and licked his tool up one side and 
down another, giving my jaw a brief respite before parting my lips 
again.  I knew he was getting close; I could taste a drop of sticky, 
salty precum.

It was time for his release.  I worked my tongue over his cockhead while 
quickly jerking his cock the way he'd done the night before.  He moaned 
and I felt his glans begin to flare in my mouth, his balls twitching in 
my hand, and suddenly he began to spurt his seed, filling my mouth with 
his hot offering.  I swallowed his semen greedily, hungrily, letting 
only the merest drop escape my lips and drip down his glistening rod.  
He let out a deep breath as the flow of cum began to wane, his penis 
softening between my lips.  After cleaning him off with my tongue, I 
gave his cock another tender kiss, gently laying it down atop his now-
empty balls.  I scooted up on the bed and lay next to him, resting my 
head on his shoulder.  Father Ken turned his head and softly kissed my 
forehead.

We lay together for a while, like lovers do, his legs intertwined with 
mine, his hand caressing my back.  I ran my fingers over his chest, idly 
toying with the gold crucifix and listening to his steady, slow 
breathing.  His caresses slowed and stopped, but it wasn't until he 
started snoring that I realized he was asleep.  I carefully extricated 
myself from his embrace and climbed out of his bed.

After getting dressed and folding the clothes I was going to take, I sat 
behind Father Ken's desk for a while, taking small sips of his drink to 
wash down the taste of his semen.  One of the desk drawers was slightly 
ajar, and I could see the bottle of pills.  Reassured by the sound of 
Father Ken's snoring in the next room, I carefully opened the drawer, 
trying not to make a sound, and pulled out the orange plastic container.  
There were plenty of pills -- the label read "Valium" -- and I spilled 
out about a half-dozen, sure that he wouldn't notice them missing.

Back in my room, I split one of the pills in half and took it, laying in 
bed and enjoying the feeling of relaxation that spread through my body.  
I thought about writing in my journal, but my limbs were like lead.  I 
could have drifted off to sleep right then, but I had to go to the 
bathroom first.

There was someone in the bathroom across the hall, so I walked down to 
the second floor.  It was more of a trot, actually, as I really had to 
go.  The door to the second floor bathroom was closed, but there was no 
answer when I knocked.  I opened the door, hiked up my skirt, pulled 
down my panties, sat down on the toilet, and began to pee.

I didn't notice the boy in the bathtub until I was about to get up and 
wipe myself.  He was young, maybe eleven or twelve, with fair skin, 
short reddish-blond hair, and a freckled face.  Cute as a button, his 
mouth was open in astonishment and his hazel eyes were as wide as dinner 
plates.

"Um, hi.  I'm Annie," I said, not really knowing what else to say.

"Hi," he croaked.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Billy."

"Well, Billy.  I'm sorry I barged in on you, but I really had to go, you 
know?  Now I've got to wipe myself.  I'd ask you not to watch, but I 
know you're curious.  You are curious about how I'm put together down 
there, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well you can watch if you'd like, but I'd prefer that you didn't."

"Um, okay," he said.  He turned his head towards the wall, but I could 
see his eyes were still glued on me.  I daubed myself with some toilet 
paper, flushed, and pulled my panties back up, letting my skirt fall 
back around my thighs.  I had my towel and toothbrush with me and was 
about to wash my face and brush, but instead I jammed the end of the 
toothbrush between the door and frame, and went over to the tub, dipping 
my fingers in the soapy water.

"It's nice and warm, Billy.  Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Um, okay," he muttered again.

The water was warm, though I hoped it wasn't because Billy was peeing in 
the bath water.  Even so, I had a head full of Valium and a nice hot 
bath sounded like a good idea.  Having some company was even better.  
This time I let Billy watch as I got undressed.  As I slowly slid naked 
into the bath, his eyes were fixed on a spot between my legs, tracking 
my pussy until it disappeared beneath the water, at which point his gaze 
moved up to my breasts and stopped there.

"Billy?  Billy?"  I had a bit of trouble getting his attention.

"Yes?"

"Would you please pass me the soap?"

"Here."

"Thank you."  I began to lather my breasts, slowly caressing them with 
the slippery bar of soap.  I could sort of make out Billy's hand moving 
between his legs beneath the foamy water.  His other hand was draped 
along the edge of the tub.  I took it and guided it to my soapy breasts, 
letting him feel them.  He began to squeeze my little tit.

"Gently, Billy.  Girls like it when you're gentle," I said.  Billy's 
squeeze became a gentle caress, and he traced the line below my budding 
breast with his fingertip.  Then he began to trace a circle around my 
nipple.

"Yes, like that.  Just like that," I whispered.  As his finger circled 
my slick nipple, I began to trace a circle around my clit with my own 
soapy finger.  My other hand was below the water, slowly moving up 
Billy's smooth thigh.  I could feel his hand moving, jerking his young 
boycock.  Beneath that hung a small, slack pair of hairless balls.  
Billy let out a small gasp when I began to fondle them.

"Let me do that for you," I said.  "Why don't you soap up my tits some 
more, okay?"  Billy nodded eagerly, taking his hand off of his stiff 
pecker so he could lather my breasts with both hands.  As he fondled my 
soapy tits, I took his smooth shaft in my hand and began to stroke him.  
His boycock was just a few inches long, circumcised, and as hard as a 
bar of iron.  Billy's young cock twitched as my fingers danced over his 
shaft.

"Do you like that?" I asked.  Billy nodded and smiled.  I took the soap 
from him and lathered up my hands, slicking up my fingers for the 
benefit of his cock and my clit.  His slim hips rose off the bottom of 
the tub to meet my fingers.  I thought about trying to straddle him and 
stuff his hard little cock inside me, but I'd lost my diaphragm while I 
was living at the foster home, and I didn't have any condoms.  Billy 
might not be ejaculating yet, but I couldn't take a chance here.  Even a 
little drop would be enough.

"Get up on your knees.  Let me finish you off," I said.  Billy got up, a 
curious expression on his face.  I gathered my hair in a loose ponytail 
with my hand, keeping it out of the soapy water.

"Hold my hair for me, will you?"  Billy rinsed the soap off of his hands 
and held my hair back as I leaned into his crotch.  I heard him let out 
another little gasp as my lips made contact with his hard boycock.  It 
still tasted a bit soapy, but I didn't mind.  The cool bathroom air had 
made his balls contract into a pruny little package.  I gently squeezed 
them as my mouth sunk lower on his smooth penis.

Lathering my hands with the soap on my breasts, I began to caress 
Billy's firm young bottom as I sucked him, feeling his cheeks tighten as 
I swirled my tongue over his hard shaft.  His heavy breathing and the 
way his cock twitched in my mouth told me that he was close to his 
release.  I squeezed his little buns and heard him gasp once again as he 
came, a small hot drop of semen oozing from the head of his dick.  He 
shuddered as I gave him one last suck before releasing his still-hard 
penis from my mouth.  Billy sighed and sat back down in the tub.

"Did you like that?" I asked him as I rinsed off my breasts.  Billy 
grinned.  The taste of his cum lingered on my lips; I was glad I didn't 
try to fuck him without a condom or something.  I thought about showing 
Billy how to fingerbang me, but that would take a little too much time.  
Even with the toothbrush jamming the door closed, I feared getting 
caught by someone.  Besides, the water was beginning to get cold.  I 
could finish myself off in bed.

I gave Billy a kiss on his freckled forehead and rinsed myself off.  We 
got out of the tub together, and I dried him off with his towel.  I 
remember doing this for Paco after we had made love in the shower, and I 
felt that familiar pang of loss, albeit dulled by the effects of the 
tranquilizers.  I helped Billy into his tattered bathrobe and had him go 
before I did so no one would see us exit the bathroom together.  Giving 
him a gentle pat on the bottom, I closed the door and spent a few more 
minutes in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face.

Back in my room, I lay in bed thinking of Billy and Father Ken, taking 
me at the same time, the priest slowly fucking me from behind while the 
young boy knelt before me and offered his smooth boycock for me to suck.  
I longed for one of my toys, a vibrator or a dildo, but had to content 
myself with my fingers as I brought myself off.  After I came, I thought 
I heard footsteps in the hall outside my room, but I was too tired and 
spent to go looking out there.  I was asleep before I even closed my 
eyes.

 
                                  * * * 
 

(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html