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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: hotrev.txt (Mf, ped, 1st)
Authors name: Anonymous Author (c) 1989
Story title : Minister and Me, The
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2001. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
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The Minister and Me (Mf, ped, 1st)
by Anonymous Author (c) 1989
edited by Sleazy Liz 92
***
I'm not sure young girls today can afford to have early
sexual experiences. Not with all the crazy people around.
People don't seem to be as nice as they used to be. It
just isn't safe anymore.
My girls are now 11 and 14 and I sure wouldn't want them
to go looking for anything like what I found when I was
12. I don't see how they could do it safely. Even if they
did have a good learning experience, it would turn all bad
as soon as someone else found out about it. This country
just isn't the same as it was twenty years ago!
We now live in Florida, but I grew up in Ohio. Florida
seems so conservative and bent on censoring everything,
but it's not just here. Friends back in Ohio tell me it is
even worse there.
When I was growing up, our family was a nudist family, but
we sure didn't call ourselves that. It was just the way we
were.
The best we've been able to do for our girls has been to
visit several nudist parks a few times each year since
they were born. Those visits have helped them, I'm sure.
But it is just not as good, nor as innocent, as when I was
growing up. We've talked with them often about sex, mostly
just me and the girls. I hope they haven't had any real or
serious sexual contacts, it just isn't safe today.
Even in a nudist park, and it's a shame, because, today,
that might be the worst place of all -- the type of people
who go there seem to be changing, and I've seen the way
the men (and some women!) look at my daughters. Ten or so
years ago, when we started visiting nudist parks and
beaches with friends, there were many good people,
families, but now the people aren't the same.
Many now are downright gross and crude and I'm not just
talking about the men. They're also paranoid and suspect
everyone else of the worst because they think the worst
themselves. We can't see any future in nudist parks or
beaches (which are even worse, for sure). It would be best
to know some other families, locally, who feel the same
way we do, and then we might be able to find some secluded
places to enjoy the out-of-doors like it was meant to be
enjoyed.
I have always loved swimming naturally! And running!
We really had it good when I was growing up. We lived on a
farm that wasn't really a farm anymore. My Grandpa built
the original white farmhouse long ago. My Mom and Dad had
a more modern house built for them at the other end of
farm, on another road. It wasn't really that far, not more
than a mile, and the path between the two houses was well
worn. The barn hadn't been used in years, but it was a
great place to play on Sunday afternoons with the other
kids.
My Grandpa and Grandma both died in the same year, when I
was 10. There weren't any animals left in the barn except
for the chickens and I had been Grandpa's "Number 1
chicken helper," as he called me. On school days, I'd
often run to their house, help him with the chickens, and
then catch the school bus. Saturdays, I'd usually spend
all day helping Grandpa and Grandma. She taught me how to
bake bread and it was almost as good as hers, or so my Dad
liked to brag. Sundays, we'd all go to church, my Grandpa
and Dad always wanted to be the first ones there, and the
last to leave.
Then we'd spend the rest of the Sunday at the old house,
and there was always a big feast in the early evening. Mom
and I did most of the cooking. Grandma did most of the
deciding, and Grandpa was always inviting friends and new
people in the church to dinner. There was always plenty
for food and plenty of people to eat it.
Grandpa made the dining room table the year Dad was born
and it could seat 20 people, easily. The biggest room in
the house should be for eating Grandpa always said, and in
their house, it was. The living room was very cozy, but
smaller than the kitchen.
I think that old kitchen was the second biggest room in
the house. It was such a good kitchen, it had so much
space and room. If friends weren't visiting at the dining
table, they were visiting in the kitchen. I still love
that house. But there were only two small bedrooms
upstairs, and the bathroom, downstairs, was just big
enough for that huge old tub. You could sit on the rim
while washing your hands in the sink. Those are all the
rooms there were, so maybe it wasn't such a big house
after all.
It was Grandpa, years ago when my Dad was a boy, who first
put the big rocks across the creek to make a dam and the
swimming hole. Dad started swimming nude with Grandpa and
Grandma just after he was born, so did all his brothers
and sisters. Can you believe that four children grew up in
that two-bedroom house?
Saturday afternoon was the traditional time for swimming,
when the weather was warm enough, even though the water
usually wasn't.
When Dad first started going with Mom, she wouldn't hear
of skinny-dipping, especially not with other people
around. They'd known each other in high school and started
going steady in tenth grade. Most every Sunday she went to
church with my Dad's family and then stayed for dinner and
helped Grandma. Just before they started 12th grade, she
finally went swimming nude. First with Dad, only, and then
with the whole family. She still loves to tell that story,
and does as often as she can, to anyone who will sit still
long enough. They got married right after graduation and I
was born two years later, I'm the oldest.
I don't know if Grandma or Grandpa were virgins when they
got married, my Dad always says he thinks they weren't,
and I know my parents enjoyed sex with each other long
before they were married. Mom told me all about it and Dad
has told me many things too. Mom and Grandma are the two
most decent, loving women I've ever known, and Dad and
Grandpa are the two best men on the face of the earth. The
whole town feels that way about them. You couldn't find
four more honest and caring people if you tried. I sure
miss them.
After Grandpa passed away, Dad didn't know what to do with
the old house. None of us wanted to see it sold and we
couldn't live in it, much as we all loved it. And I didn't
want to see the chickens go. It sat empty for the rest of
the winter.
In the spring, Dad rented it to our new Minister for next
to nothing. And I knew I would not like the man. Dad
promised I could keep the chickens, if I could take good
care of them each day by myself, without help from him or
the new Minister. I knew I could and promised I would.
That next Sunday, I met our new Minister for the first
time and he was too young to be a Minister, for sure.
Before Service, he had a special meeting for all the kids
and he told us that we should call him "Reverend Dale"
(his first name). Adults called him by his last name. A
few days later, I also found out that he was going to be
the high school football coach.
I was nervous the first week, but each morning I'd run to
the old house, take care of the chickens and catch the bus
as I always had. A few times I saw Reverend Dale at the
kitchen table and he'd wave.
That first Saturday, I didn't go over until later in the
morning and he was out working on his car, in shorts and
no shirt. I can still recall how strong he looked, and how
filthy dirty he was. But he was very pleasant and watched
while I did what I came to do. Then we talked and he asked
if I'd like a cold drink. Well, the lemonade he made was
horrid and I almost couldn't drink it.
The next Saturday, I brought some lemons from home and
offered to make him some like Grandma had taught me. He
accepted my offer, but I couldn't find anything in the
kitchen, anymore. The place just wasn't the same. My
sadness must have shown because he suggested that we sit
outside. As we talked, I told him I'd bake him some really
good bread next Saturday, if he'd get what I needed and
that he didn't have.
By several Saturdays later, I was really feeling
comfortable in that old kitchen again. He was always very
nice, and he knew enough to stay out of my way.
Soon, I was making his Saturday dinners for him. Mom told
Dad it was good practice for me, and I really felt good
and grown-up doing it. Then one Sunday, I heard him tell
Dad how pleased and proud he was to have me as his "little
homemaker." "Little," indeed! I was so angry, I didn't
make his dinner the following Saturday.
But soon, it was high summer, and I'd forgotten what he'd
called me. We were very good friends by then, and I could
talk to him about anything. We hauled a bunch of junk out
of the barn to burn, and we were both dusty dirty, and
tired; so I asked him if he'd ever made use of the
swimming hole. I hadn't even been there, myself, in almost
a year.
When he asked "what swimming hole?" I walked him behind
the barn and showed him the pond. It needed work. Some
rocks had moved and the water wasn't as deep as it used to
be. But I ran up to the edge and jumped out of all my
clothes as I had always done (not even thinking about
him), and I was in the water before I noticed him still on
shore, just looking at me.
I called several times for him to come in, and told him
not to be chicken of some cold water. I was getting used
to it, but he was still just sitting there.
So, I explained how all of us enjoyed swimming nude and
that we had for years. But he said that he really wasn't
part of the family and that he was sure all the church
people would never understand if anyone found out that
he'd gone swimming nude with me. I assured him that I'd
seen my Dad and Grandpa naked many times and that there
was nothing to be ashamed of. I added that I'd also seen
any number of older and younger, male relatives, and that
I was sure he didn't have anything that they didn't have.
Then he laughed as I'd never heard him laugh before, and
that was when I first realized how much I really liked
him.
Well, he was just like the other men, not much bigger and
not much smaller, but he sure had some really white skin
on his butt. And he sure had a nice looking body too.
As we were leaving the water, he reminded me that we
didn't have any towels. I told him that we never needed
them, that we'd run back to the house and that the sun
would dry us, completely, before we got there.
He sure could run fast. He was in the house before I got
there, sitting in the kitchen and breathing hard. So, I
zipped into the living room to get an old blanket out of
the chest and was halfway surprised to find they were
still there. I ran out back and spread it on the grass.
The sun was so warm and felt so good!
But he wouldn't join me. He said it wouldn't be right if
someone came and caught us naked. I told him not to worry,
that we'd be able to hear anyone coming from miles away.
And that we always laid outside afterwards, to enjoy the
nice warm sun. He was hesitant, but he was soon next to
me.
Then, I noticed that he was not circumcised. I asked him
why he wasn't and he asked me what I thought of it. I told
him that I liked the looks of his uncircumcised penis
better. Just as I was about to lay on my tummy, I
remembered his white butt. So I ran back into the house
and went looking in one of the kitchen closets for some
suntan lotion.
When I got on my knees beside him, he pulled back and
wondered what I wanted. So I told him that he had to have
some protection and that I had just the thing. I got some
in my hand, but he refused and said he'd do it, himself. I
told him not to be silly and that, besides, I wanted to do
it.
He had big shoulders and big arms, but he sure had a small
rear end, and as hard as two big rocks. It took me longer
to rub it in than was needed, but I really liked touching
him. I'd done the same thing, many times before for others
in my family, and thought nothing of it. But now, for the
first time, it was very different and I was feeling very
warm and nervous -- almost giggly.
I'd seen erections before, even my Dad's, sometimes, when
he was laying in the sun on the blanket with Mom. I'd
never really paid any mind, but now, Reverend Dale was
trying to hide his from me and that just made me more
interested. So, I asked him what an uncircumcised penis
looked like when it was erect, and he turned beet-red. I
told him that I didn't want to hurt him that I just wanted
to see. I almost begged. I even promised that I wouldn't
tell anyone that he was uncircumcised. So he finally
turned over and I liked the way it looked -- like he was
still wearing a hat down there!
I didn't know why I did it at the time, but then I threw
my arms around his neck and gave him a great big hug. He
quickly pushed me away and told me that he liked me very
much, that he liked being with me, but that there was a
limit as to how we should behave.
I asked him what limit?
He asked me why I liked to be naked and I told him that I
just did, and that I especially liked it with him.
He asked me what I knew about sex and I told him that I
knew all about it.
Then, he asked me again what I knew about sex and I told
him that sex was what people did when they loved each
other. He left it at that and I was glad, because I really
didn't know much more than that.
He asked me if I was going to tell anyone about our
swimming and being naked. I asked him if he wanted me to
keep it a secret. He told me that he did want me to keep
it a secret and I promised that I would, just so long as
we could go swimming again next Saturday.
We went swimming again, and I was happy to see him again,
and it was good to rub suntan oil on him, again. He didn't
try to hide himself from me this time, and that made me
feel even better.
The next couple of Saturdays, I didn't bother to get
dressed until after I'd fixed his dinner and was ready to
go back home. Each time, he sat at the kitchen table,
naked himself. It was now very natural for us and I
enjoyed looking at him, especially because he was always
erect. My Dad was often naked, but I never saw him with an
erection while he was just sitting in a chair, and somehow
I knew this was different. He was not the same as my Dad,
and I didn't feel towards him like I felt about my Dad. I
loved my Dad, and my Mom, and my brother and sister. I
enjoyed hugging my Mom and Dad, and I enjoyed it when my
Mom or Dad kissed me. But I wanted to hug Reverend Dale
and I wanted to kiss him and I wanted to do that forever.
One Saturday, when I was about ready to dress and leave, I
knew he was standing behind me. I didn't say anything. I
didn't turn around. Then, I felt his strong hands on my
shoulders, and it was he who turned me around.
Just that quick, I locked my arms around him and buried my
face just above his belly. His hands were holding my head
tight and stroking my hair, when I felt his hard erection
against my tummy. I couldn't help it, I started crying,
and I didn't know why.
He picked me up.
I locked my arms around his neck and he kissed me deeper
than I'd ever been kissed before and I locked my legs
around his waist to keep from sliding further and I felt
his whole entire body turn rock-hard and his chest was
suddenly three times bigger and with violent shudders the
whole room shook because, like a wild wounded bull, he
snorted masterfully, and I felt rapid sudden warm, liquid
spurting striking my butt-cheeks, and dripping down my
bare back while his whole body grew softer and less tall
and, as the room was turning slowly, I could feel him
breath again and the loud strong steady pounding of his
heart, sending shock-wave after shock-wave deep into my
chest.
In that moment I had become part of him in the most
wonderful way.
Then, I saw the dining room pass by, then the living room,
and then I knew that we were on the stairs and going
upstairs. He was so strong and I felt so very safe and
small in his arms.
The bed didn't make a sound as he laid me gently down on
it. But I refused to let go of his neck and he didn't say
a thing as he let me feel his body lay down beside me, all
warm.
He was so tender with his strong, silent fingers quietly
moving between my thighs that couldn't open far enough
with wanting his kneading there, where the whole world now
existed for only me and the warm timid air from his
delicious mouth. On the new, young, yearning feeling that
I was experiencing in that small, narrow, wet, slit,
knowing his lips would hasten the small waves from inside
and that they would roll like the tide from his tongue
licking lower and deeper.
Thrashing for deeper breathing that comes faster with more
loudness whose release with moaning is heard by no one and
by all that know this rushing river as it crashes over the
highest and most heavenly peak above the clouds in
private. With only his mouth and only his hands lifting my
hard behind into himself all the way until the clouds
burst wide open and the thunder bursts out all the way
from deep inside to rolling tide now slower with his
gentle rocking to a music heard by only us there at the
center of everything growing smaller and more slowly just
past the point where everything finally rests and is at
peace, and is, forever quiet and gone.
I was looking at the ceiling and looking through the
ceiling, past the roof at the big, snow-soft clouds
turning in the sky-blue everything away slowly as the roof
closed and saw the ceiling once again because he was
lifting his face up from between my legs as I lowered my
knees to see the beauty of it all over him and his mouth
that now wasn't saying anything but a smile so full of
love, tender with the soft wetness of my release all over
him.
And it was all so funny.
"Look at your head, your hair is a mess..."
"Which one are you talking about?" He smiled so sweetly.
"Which what?"
"Never mind, it's a dumb thing to say, now." And, as he
moved towards the top of the bed, elbow on the pillow next
to mine, he asked me, "Do you know what that was?"
"Do I know what that was? Yes."
"Are you afraid?"
"No, I loved it."
"Do you know what you loved?"
"Yes, I loved what you did to me with your mouth and
tongue."
"Do you know what that is called?"
"Yes, its called making love."
"No, it's called sex. It's called cunnilingus."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that I use my mouth to give you very good
feelings there."
"Why?"
"Because you're really not big enough for anything else,
yet."
"What happened to me?"
"That, my precious Sweet One, was an orgasm."
"You mean I didn't really break anything."
"No, I had one, too. A very good one, in the kitchen."
"Is that what's half-dry and sticky on my back and rear?"
"That's me."
"Did you break something?"
"No, I loved it, it has been so long."
"Then what's this stuff stuck on my rear?"
"From me, men ejaculate when they orgasm."
"Do girls?"
"No, not really, just a little, not like a male."
He lowered his head onto his pillow, and with one hand I
pushed him easily so he rolled from his side to his back
and me on my tummy, I put my chin on his chest, and
listened to him try to explain everything that I didn't
understand and still didn't, even when he was finished,
because my fingers were playing in the thick, stuck hairs
at the base of him, big and hard, and I asked him if I
could hold him, and he said I could, and he was alive with
the beating of a heart that belonged only to him, but that
I knew with my hand and could feel in my heart pounding
like his when I held on tighter and wouldn't let go.
He pulled me up to lay on his chest, my legs on his legs,
stronger and longer as my whole world went higher and
lower with his breathing, I made myself heavy to push on
him each time harder there where the thick length of him
lay between his hard belly and me there where I wanted the
pushing pressing harder with moaning coming from within me
from nowhere and him saying "SHHHHHH," while I felt his
powerful open hands, fingers clutching each smallness that
were my butt-cheeks going up and down with my thrusting
harder down helped with his pushing up to feel him better.
I pressed with my fingers firm hold on either side of his
hair buried deep and hanging on to keep from falling off
and to pull myself higher because I felt his chest
suddenly three times bigger and both bodies hard like a
rider and a wild horse screaming down that sudden steep
sloop of the bursting forth waterfall over the thunder and
full-power out of his throbbing wet shootings up between
us pressed tight and held by his arms of his raging sea.
Like a small tiny boat that was crashed by huge breakers
onto the shore and now slowly carried back to that vast
smooth stillness in his open hands and the sea of his
chest and mine now going level and softer. We were stuck
together and made into one with his violent offering,
thick with the same whiteness that lasts as the bond
between our bellies now soft with release. Finally, his
hands falling from my cheeks and my fingers releasing the
hair around his ears, hearing me speaking, without me
actually speaking, that I will love him forever.
"We must wash ourselves."
"Will you carry me?"
"If you promise to keep your hands to yourself and let me
watch while I wash you."
"Okay, and I will wash you."
Him standing up in the big bath tub and me with my legs
inside and my cheeks on the rim, holding him, soaping him
thick, my fingers love it, and so does he, uplifting and
defying gravity the soap makes him smoother than slippery,
and that feels even better when he is bigger. The grin on
his face and his flagpole at full-stiff attention and just
standing there defiant and loaded with soap. As he bends
to his knees and with mine apart, he with a small towel
warm with soft water, brushes and cleans that small
narrow, tender, the response of his touching worship, all
with all loving, and all remembered forever!
Forgive me for getting so flowery. Just remembering it
brings me such warm pleasure, and my mind goes all gaga. I
can't write about that afternoon any other way.
So, at 12, I became Reverend Dale's mistress. Neither he
nor I could wait very long to try and see if I was "big
enough." I was.
My time spent with him, in that old house, was time spent
naked and touching, and licking and probing, sucking and
kissing, and loving. He was amazing the way he could get
hard, time after time. And, he said I was amazing because
I was always ready and anxious.
I grew -- 13, 14, 15, 16, 17 -- and I stayed his mistress.
Young women at church wondered why no one was "turning his
head." Marrying a minister was a challenge, and Reverend
Dale seemed to make it an impossible task. I always
sniggered when I heard them gossiping about him -- because
I knew. It was MY body, MY mouth, MY loving that made him
so uninterested in them.
I look back, and wonder how I ever kept it a secret from
my family, but I did. I didn't date in high school -- I
didn't have to, because I had him. There were questions,
but I always said I just hadn't met anyone at school I
really liked.
I got a full scholarship to college, and hated leaving
him. We talked about starting a "proper courtship" during
my breaks, and getting married when I came home for my
first summer. I was so happy.
In November, even before I came home for my first break,
at Thanksgiving, he married the banker's daughter and
accepted a posting in another town. I never saw him again.
I was shattered. Devastated. Crushed. Humiliated.
I got over him, but not quickly. Not before ruining my
reputation at my small college, by going to bed with every
man who asked, including the professors. I spent the next
three-and-a-half years on my back or on my knees, seldom
with the same man for more than one night.
Finally, I got it all back together, again. I went home,
found a job, went back to Church, met a dear man and
married him, and had my two beautiful daughters. I
couldn't ask for any more in my life.
But, I still think about Reverend Dale.
-- Edited by Sleazy Liz, 4/92
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 15