She really is a good girl

As we climb the steps to her room, I decide to test the waters a little.

“Good girls always do what they are told to by their elders, don’t they?” Her gasp of excitement tells me I’m on the right track.

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice is so low I might have missed her response if I hadn’t been listening for it.

“Excellent, and good girls always try their best, don’t they?” This time she just nods, but that is good enough for now. “And do good girls ever lie to get out of trouble?” By now we are at the landing halfway up the staircase, and I take the opportunity to swing her into my arms so her jiggling tits press against my tee-shirt. Her eyes lower and I know I’ve found a **** spot in this sweet coed’s armor of faith and optimism. I use my finger under her chin to lift her face until I see the shame in her eyes, “Do good girls lie?” I ask again.

“No, Sir.” Alison looks up at me pleadingly, “I try, not to Mr. P, really I do.” I sooth her with another gentle kiss, enjoying the drama leading up to the main event almost as much as I expect to enjoy her as she squirms under me.

“So when I ask you a question,” I continue when our lips finally part, “You will try your best to answer truthfully and completely, won’t you?” I am putting Alison in a very **** position, and she seems to know it because, there is a half second pause before she agrees to my demand.

“Yes, Sir. I trust you Mr. P.” This faith in me is rewarded with another kiss and this time Alison responds with even more urgent moans. When we get to her room, I instruct her to take off her the rest of her clothes and climb onto the bed for me. The lights in her bedroom never got turned on, so it is too dark to see the blush that I know must be there. She lays on her back with her hands at her sides and her head turned slightly to the side. I can’t help wonder if this is how she waits for Dick when he comes to call.

“Angel, have you ever had a real mind-shattering orgasm?” She turns to look at me in surprise, she clearly thought I’d have other things on my mind, but I’m no young buck anymore, so I’ll need other ways to satisfy this sweet thing. I can see her hesitate, but I stare at her sternly and she remembers our agreement.

“Yes Mr. Patterson, but not for more than two years.” This is interesting; two years ago Alison was still in high school.

“You let a boy have sex - ” I stop as I realize I’m not even close. “No, you must have discovered how to masturbate, right?” Her embarrassment is impossible to miss, but she nods her head. “Mr. P, I didn’t even know what I was doing?” That may be the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, but I played along.

“You’re going to have to explain that, Little One.” I sit on the side of the bed and rest my hand on her knee. “How do you bring yourself to a climax without knowing what you are doing?”

“Please, Mr. P.” She looks at me with her soulful eyes, “Do I have to? It’s so embarrassing.” When I just glare at her she blinks twice and then explains.

“You have to understand how little we knew about boys and sex, at St. Teresa’s.” She lays the foundation for what I hope is going to be a pretty good tale. “There was no open internet, or x-rated movies, there weren’t even young adult books in the library to titillate our girlish fantasies. I heard other girls from public school talk about Twilight and The Hunger Games, but my school and parents worked together and pretty much limited my exposure to anything that wasn’t G-rated.” My parents had had similar goals, but I had found ways to sneak into the movies and tear out articles from discarded Cosmopolitans that worked well enough to get my teenaged libido going. Apparently Alison wasn’t daring enough to defy her parents that way, but she found her own solution.

“In our school library I found a book on the lives of saints.” She continues, “have you ever heard of St. Ursula?” When I shake my head (Adventists pretty much see worship of Saints as akin to idolatry) she tells me about how over 1,000 years ago a Saxon Princess was on a pilgrimage to Rome with an escort of 111 virgins when she somehow ended up in the besieged city of Cologne surrounded by Huns.

“When the city fell, the pagan leader demanded that Ursula surrender herself to him. She refused, and the book said he thrust her through with his lance, killing her and making her a martyr to the faith.” She smiles knowingly, “I’m pretty sure Sister Louise never bothered getting all the way to Ursula in the alphabet, because if she had I’m sure this book wouldn’t have been shelved with the others. Even as young as I was it was impossible for me not to understand what ‘thrust through with a lance’ must have meant back in those dark times.”

“OK, so you got excited by this licentious tidbit, but how does that explain how you got yourself off without knowing what you were doing?”

“You see Mr. P,” her voice takes on a husky note that almost makes you regret this long-winded explanation. “I couldn’t stop thinking about all the other virgins that were captured at the same time. I lay in bed late at night obsessing about those innocent Christian maidens that were given to savages intent on defiling their chaste bodies.” Alison crossed her legs and covered her mound with her hands. “At night when all my family was asleep, I pressed my legs together, and concealed my holy of holies with my hands like this.” I am beginning to see where this is going, and I smile broadly at her as she goes on. “I'd lie on my bed, imagining that I was fighting to preserve my sacred virginity as my legs were pulled apart by a powerful pagan warrior.”

By now her hands are pressing firmly into her sex, and I can see her legs tensing and relaxing in a steady rhythm. “I had never felt anything like that before, and of course no one ever talked about girls touching themselves for pleasure so the first time I came, I honestly thought it was what St. Ursula must have felt when she was taken by Jesus into heaven.” She stops rubbing herself and rolls to her side so she can look at you. “There were other scenarios I thought about too. Some were historical like the atrocities committed by Yankees raiders during the War of Northern Aggression, others were based on event in the news; the unmarried girls taken by Isis in Syria, or the poor schoolgirls captured in Africa, but more often than not I went back to Ursula and her escort of virgins. It wasn’t until my Senior year ‘Sin and repentance’ class that I realized I had been masturbating so many times over the past couple years. I couldn’t even properly confess these transgressions, because I was so embarrassed by how wicked I had been, and how much I had enjoyed it.

“And you never were tempted again?” The image of this young woman laying on her back in the darkness and getting off on the story has you horny as Hell.

“I was tempted, and sometimes-” her eyes lower modestly, “I had moments of weakness and tried to bring back the feeling of surrender, but I’ve never been able to climax – not now that I know it’s a sin.”