*Every old trick was invented by someone once upon a time*

(Yes, this tale is supposed to be somewhat humorous and outrageous too. While not always comedic I'd like to think it is mostly a good-natured romp.)

*

A Little Background ...

Hi. My name is Glenn Zane Braxton but everyone calls me Zane. I'm a good-looking (or so I'm told) athletic kid just over six feet tall and just under two hundred pounds. I get my Nordic looks from my Mom who hails from Norway. I apparently get my optimistic attitude and loose moral structure from my Dad, though I was to learn that Mom was a bit freaky too.

My parents were killed in a rock climbing accident when I was fifteen so I was sent to live with my Uncle Tim (Dad's younger brother) and Aunt Jill. Unfortunately for me, while my parents had been rich hedonists, Tim and Jill were fundamentalist Christians doing missionary work in northern Thailand. I spent the next two-and-a-half years in a place where a paved road was a luxury.

I have nothing against Christianity; I consider myself a decent Christian but I believe my faith stops at the next person's 'I'm not interested'. My aunt and uncle were a very different breed. They believed that it was every Christian's duty to convert our little brown brothers and sisters (no shit, this is what Tim told me) whether they wanted it or not.

Needless to say, I witnessed them busting their self-righteous heads against the faith and traditions of these ancient people they'd come to 'help enlighten,' while I learned all about Thai culture, cuisine, and kick-boxing. I learned that spending time with Thai women was a hell of a way to get another kind of education too. On the down side, Tim beat me whenever he found out about the women. To get back at him, I spent time with Buddhist monks - score one for the Zen!

Three months ago there was an incredibly brutal monsoon and something possessed Tim to go down to the river to save people. Since every sane individual was running away from the river, I pleaded that we go with the people that actually knew what was going on. Instead, I ended up with my Aunt and Uncle hip deep in the muddy water when an uprooted tree hit Tim and Jill.

Like a fool I jumped into the flood waters after them. I got to Jill - Tim was a goner. Afterwards, when I realized that no Tim meant a return to the States, I was not crying tears of joy - that would have been cruel.

After they gave up the search for Tim, Jill and I returned to Western Civilization. Jill surprised me by actually having a college degree that was useful and she got a job in Virginia working as an insurance adjuster for a nice sized company. I had completed my high school credits online back in Thailand and passed my college entrance exam so I was looking forward to partying it up somewhere far away from Jill.

Fate has a funny way of laughing at me, though. For some byzantine reason, Dad set up my trust fund so that I would get a fraction of my inheritance when I turned eighteen...as long as I was in an institution of higher learning approved of by Tim and Jill - now just Jill. Otherwise, I had to wait until I was twenty-one. I wanted to go to the University of Hawaii Jill found a nice little place close to what she called home -- real close.

Speaking of home; our living arrangements were courtesy of Tim's generous insurance policy and his own little share of Dad's family's money. She bought us an expansive two-story spread with nice large yards, front and back, right where the countryside hits the suburbs. I wished we had a pool and even offered to dip into my own funds to have one put in but since pools were 'cesspits of depravity' Jill nixed the notion.

Getting a car was also an interesting discussion. Jill said 'no way' and wouldn't budge until we noticed that our neighbors were two nice looking ladies in their twenties (I guessed). On the day we moved in I went over to talk (I'm drawn to women like a comet to the Sun) and spent over an hour getting to know them. There were two big pluses about their place; one was the large pool in back, which the girls (there turned out to be more than two) promised I could use whenever I wanted -- real nice of them. The other one was...

When I got home I told Jill not to worry about the car; the cute lesbian couple offered to pick me up from school whenever I needed a ride. "Are they atheists?" Jill gasped. Apparently them being homosexuals wasn't enough? "Nah, they are Wiccans," I lied again with a smile. We went car shopping the next day. I figured I would tell Jill we lived next to a sorority house (to the other university in town) at some later date.

What Not to Wear

Moving in turned out to be half the battle for my life at the new house. Next came the clothing war. Personally, I think I look great naked and do wonderful with people of the female persuasion but in Virginia they arrest you for this. Since I only have a twenty percent chance of being taken in by a female police officer (or the five percent of the male officers who are out and-out homosexuals), I'm going to go to jail if I go around nude.

My solution was to look around the local teenage hangouts, websites, and social networks to get me a style that would be both individualistic yet fit in. Aunt Jill was of the opinion that my school uniform (see below) would be my normal look. When I told her I'd use my own money to get what I wanted she threatened to throw them out because I was still living under her roof.

I got pissed off and since my outlet options were pretty limited, I stupidly went to my room and did what every teenage boy should never do when their female guardian is at home - maybe I have malaria and the fever was clouding my thought processes. In Thailand I would simply go out into the jungle Jill never went out into the wilderness if she could help it.

There was no jungle and Jill knew right where my room was, and since it was her house, she barged right in. Half way through giving me a piece of her mind Jill noticed me, the Vaseline, the box of Kleenex, and what my hand was pumping. I yanked the comforter on my bed, trying to cover myself, which resulted in my flipping off the bed (I was sitting on the comforter) and rolling to Jill's feet.

Jill stood there with her mouth wide open, eyes glued to my penis. I stopped pumping but my rod wouldn't go down despite my shame -- not of my erection but because I didn't like sexually taunting a recent widow. "That's...that's disgusting," she gasped while still fixated on my erection.

I wiggled around so that I could pull up my underwear and slacks. Once my cock was under cover Jill started harping on me. "You vile pervert," she seethed. "What is the meaning of you showing your...thing to me? You are filthy. Wash your sheets then wash your hands then never do this again."

"Um, Jill...Aunt Jill, I'm an eighteen-year-old male. I need to masturbate," I informed her. "Not in this house," she said shrilly. I grabbed the tissues and Vaseline, then headed for the door. "Where are you going?" she worried. "Into the woods out back," I answered as I tried to move past her. "I kind of need to finish this."

"You will do no such thing," Jill gasped as she grabbed my arm, "you might be seen...and it's wrong." First priority for Jill was social appearances while my spiritual well-being was somewhat less important at that moment. "Jill," I cautioned her, "I really need to knock one out. I'm stressed."

Jill grabbed the Vaseline and tissues from my hands, not because she was stronger but because in my own twisted way, I still acknowledged Jill as my authority figure; not much of one, but one nonetheless. Ripping them away from her wasn't an option so, "Jill, you are my only parent now. I need to come to you about...things sexual," I suggested.

"No," Jill responded with some shock. "There will be no sex in this house. You will have sex when you are married and not before -- ever. Even then, sex is only for procreation." "Jill, I'm not a virgin," I informed her. Her jaw dropped but I'm not sure if it was shock, horror, or something else.

"You've had sex with a girl?" she whispered. "Aunt Jill, I had twenty girlfriends back at the mission," I related. "Did...Did Tim know? How did it happen? When did you do it?" she stammered. "Tim knew; that is why he kept beating my ass."It happened simply enough; we would be bathing down at the river and if we liked what we'd seen and if things clicked, we'd go fool around. Sometimes we'd kiss and touch and sometimes we'd have sex-- you know, blowjobs, cunnilingus, vaginal and anal sex," I continued. "Gack...ah...oh, God preserve me," Jill sputtered. "As for when, the best time was right after Bible study when you and Tim were preoccupied with the parents and us kids could sneak off to a house and fool around in the common room, and then couples would pair up and have sex in the bedrooms," I finished. "Oh, poor Tim," Jill moaned as she slumped against the door sill. "Can I have my stuff and go now?" I asked softly. "No," she snapped. We kind of stood there for a minute before she asked, "Were you sneaking peeks of me at the river?" "Ummm..." I half turned away, "yeah, I did." Jill looked offended.

"You are very sexy, Jill," I attempted to mollify her. It didn't work. "You pervert, you freak...that's incest. It is against God's Laws!" she screamed at me. "Jill, we are not blood related, and I never said I actually wanted to sleep with you, only that you have a very nice body," I countered calmly.

"Shut up! Stop talking," she shouted, before storming off, leaving me even more frustrated. An hour later Jill sent me out to get some pizza but when I got back she wasn't in the house, though her car was still in the garage. I smelled smoke and followed the scent out into the backyard. I saw what Jill was doing; she didn't need to tell me what she was up to but she did it anyway.

"I think we need to put your misspent time in Thailand behind you," she announced, "so I've decided it is best to get rid of all the clothes, books, and statues you brought back." "You should have asked me," I stated. Of course, this meant War. "You are awash in sin, Zane," she answered in this twisted, loving tone. I turned and went in the house.

What had that monk said to me when I'd discussed my relationship with Tim and Jill? One does not build a house of stone out of grass Which he suggested meant petty payback satisfies little and is soon gone, but real revenge comes from working permanent change on your opponent. Over the next four days I ordered a secure chest online, withdrew my bank limit each day, and started taking a pitcher of grape juice to my room at bedtime (it will make sense in a moment). I decided to start my plan Sunday night.

Stage One: after Jill has gone to bed, fill her car up with gas and report all her credit cards and bank card stolen. We have plenty of food in the kitchen and Jill takes her lunch to work so with the car full of gas she won't immediately notice her cards are useless tomorrow. Also withdraw yet another five hundred dollars with my bank card, which is the daily limit.

Stage Two: Once Jill has gone to work, I put three of her Sunday's Best into the steel chest, to which I have the only combination. Burn every piece of ultra-conservative matronly-wear, from underwear to bathrobes to jackets. Now that mid-morning has come, I head over to the Sorority House and enlist the aid of my two new friends, Leigh and Corrie. We go clothes shopping with the money I've saved up.

Each 'sister' gets one thing (for services rendered) and the rest of the money we dump on getting Jill everything a sexually confident and active twenty-something would wear (Jill's only thirty) as well as getting me some normal clothes. I'm not going to attempt to make Jill dress like a hooker; that would never work. Jill's been warped by her narrow-minded environment for all of her three decades so making her more tolerant is going to take time.

Stage Three: As we are heading to the bedrooms that evening I 'accidently' bump into Jill and soak her with a pitcher of grape juice she now knows I'm taking to my room on a regular basis. Grape juice doesn't come out and a pitcher will soak her down to her underwear and bra. "Sorry, Aunt Jill," I blathered.

"Oh, Zane, this dress is totally ruined. I should make you pay to replace it," she sounded cross. "Consider it done," I offered. Technically, I'd already bought her a new one. Jill went into the bathroom muttering Leviticus before tossing me a roll of paper towels to clean up the spilled juice. "Zane?" Jill called from the bathroom with a hint of concern.

"Yes?" I responded from the hallway. "Where is my bathrobe?" she inquired. "In the laundry," I lied. I hear her putter around for a few seconds, then, "Go to your room and shut the door," she ordered me. I got up and made a point of noisily shutting my door. Half a minute later the bathroom door squeaked open and I heard Jill pad quietly to her room and shut the door. I opened my door and sprinted to the bathroom. I retrieved her clothes from the hamper and tossed them in the sink, got the carefully secreted lighter fluid from underneath, doused them, and tossed in a lit match.

At the same time as I'm doing this, I heard Jill slamming dresser drawers open and shut. "ZANE!" Boy, what have you done?" Jill shouted from her room. I raced out of the bathroom (on purpose) at the same time Jill burst out of her room so we were basically five feet apart when Jill remembered that she was naked; I was barefoot in pajama bottoms.

Jill's look was priceless as she realized that the number of men who'd seen her totally naked since she hit puberty had just doubled. She spun around and bolted into her room, door slamming shut once more. It took her a few moments to form a plan. "Zane, go to your room and shut the door," she growled with a tad more control.

"Sure thing." I grinned as I walked to my room, shut the door, and leaned against it waiting for what I knew would unfold next. Sure enough, Jill raced to the bathroom. "Zane, where is my dress?" "In the sink," I told her. Three -- two -- one. "ZANE! What have you done!" she screamed once more. "My bra, my underwear, my hose..." she sobbed. "Jane, you have a robe in your closet. If you want, put it on and come to my room so we can talk this over," I suggested.

I didn't hear anything for fifteen minutes as I waited on my bed. Finally, the door swung open slowly and Jill took a halfstep into my room. Her eyes were downcast in shame but her voice was full of hurt and anger. In her mind there was no possible reason for me to have done this. She was pulling off the Hurt Little Girl bit really well with her mid-thigh crimson satin robe and her wavy, deep-red hair flowing loosely over her shoulders and down her back.

"I can't believe you picked this out for me to wear, Zane. Now where are my clothes?" she ground out. "Jill, you look good in that -- really good -- but I didn't pick it out for you. I had our next-door neighbors do that because you are all beautiful young women," I explained. "If you tell me what color you are wearing, I'll tell you where your clothes are." Jill stood stock still as she worked out that I was talking about her panties. "Blue...the deep blue ones...with the black...lace," she whispered.

"Not the white?" I had to ask since I would have guessed this was the first pair of non-white panties she'd ever worn. Her constricted mind had expanded a tiny bit. "The white ones were nearly see-through," she answered after a second. I had to agree with that. "I put your clothes exactly where you put all the stuff I brought back from Thailand," I answered. It took a moment for that to sink in. Her burning green eyes popped up in shock. "What am I going to wear to work tomorrow?" she wailed.

"I'll tell you if you agree to one request I have for you," I replied with compassion. "Fine," she hiccupped. She was so body conscious that she wasn't really thinking about the implications of what she was saying but I believed she would still honor her word. "I want you to wear your hair down all day tomorrow...or in a ponytail, but that's it," I ordered. Jill looked at me truly confused; she always wore it in a bun.

"But why?" she questioned. "I don't understand." "Your hair is beautiful when it is down, Aunt Jill. I figure it wouldn't kill you to try a new look," I answered. Again, she didn't understand but I was okay with that, and getting her clothes out of the closet was part of the deal. I pulled out bag after bag and set them on the bed.

Jill stepped up during the process and pulled various articles of clothing out, utterly flummoxed with what she was discovering. This wasn't slut-wear but it would definitely show more of her curves and skin than she would have ever normally considered. When I finished bringing bags out she looked past me, expecting more. "I can't wear any of this," she declared. "Please tell me you didn't really destroy my clothes." "Jill, I did burn up most of your clothes and you can wear what I bought you. You are thirty, not sixty-five. When I jumped into that river, God decided that I rescued you and not Tim, and I can't believe I saved you so you could go right back to the same life you had before," I interpreted what might have been true...God doesn't talk to me. "What did I do to deserve this, Zane?" she pleaded. "You burned up all my stuff from Thailand, Jill. And while you might think of this as revenge, it's not. You may not see it this way now but one day, I hope you will understand that I love you," I told her. "Zane, I don't understand. What you did was evil, despicable, and wicked and I won't tolerate it. We should pray to God, me for guidance and you for forgiveness," she pouted. She made to kneel down at my bedside so I followed out of long practice. We clasped our hands in prayer and while Jill closed her eyes, mine remained open.

Now, my bed is not even at knee level so when Jill knelt down to pray, leaning forward until her elbows were on the mattress, she inadvertently thrust her ass backwards -- yes, Jill was doggy style on my bed. I had abstractly known Jill was attractive but the thought of having sex with her had never come up.

What was now 'coming up' was suddenly a problem, as were my attempts to keep up with exactly what Jill was asking God for, but the gist of it seemed to involve the Almighty taking steel wool to my corrupt soul, the harder and more painful the scrubbing, the better. "Amen," we said in unison as the thirty-seven minute ordeal came to an end and Jill stood up.

"Jesus has told me that I only have to put up with your dementia until morning. I'd rather get new clothes instead of showing up to work...as some strumpet," she proclaimed. "Um...where did you come up with the word 'strumpet' and who ever said it was a sin to be good looking?" I asked. "Nothing I got for you suggests sexuality, no push-up bras, crop tops, or slit skirts. They're clothes, nothing more."

"It doesn't matter what you think," Jill countered. "Whatever madness you thought you were accomplishing won't work. I really should call the pastor." "And tell him what, that I burned your clothes and bought you...normal clothes? Why don't we call everyone on the church roster?" I warned her. Jill balked at the prospect of having our family feud exposed.

Jill sniffed, spun, and started to leave the room when she recalled the clothes I'd bought for her. She huffed and came back for them, looking at me very indignantly. When I went to help, she warned me off with a hateful glare. An hour later, as I began to despair over my actions, I heard Jill's bedroom door open and a crinkly crunch in the hall. Upon examination, I found one of the bags I'd purchased clothes in outside her door. Inside, folded up, were the other bags. Jill had put my clothes away in her drawers and closet. I counted that to be a small victory.

At breakfast the next morning I endeavored to be very correct and polite as I complimented Jill on how nice she looked. She returned my platitudes with an angry glare and she left for work without saying a word. In her favor, when she learned her credit cards were toast she didn't break down and scream at me over the phone or miss work. That evening she did still slam the door to the garage loud enough to rattle windows on the other side of the house when she got home from work.

"ZANE!" she screamed, "What did you do to my credit cards?" "Your replacements should be here by Saturday or Monday at the latest," I replied soothingly as she stormed up to me. "So," I went on, "did anyone compliment you on your looks today?"

"What...I...that's not important," she muttered, then she changed tact. She came over to the sofa where I was reclining, knelt down, and took my hand. "Zane, you are falling into lust, degeneration, and degradation -- sins of the flesh. You have to stop this."

'Stop what?' I wasn't precisely sure. "What you want me to do? Should we pray further on the matter? Last night I felt...something, but I still feel empty," I suggested. Jill's face lit up so I slipped past her and knelt beside her. Jill was unwittingly sexy as she sashayed forward on her knees to rest against the sofa. I reached out to her and she took my hand, then the praying began.

What followed was a repetitive litany of me falling into lust and dark desires (clothes buying?). Dear departed Uncle Tim didn't even get an honorable mention which would have been surprising if he hadn't been such a total bastard to me. Jill's neglect I didn't quite understand. She'd always been loyal, dutiful, and supportive. It then occurred to me that I'd never seen him exert an ounce of human compassion toward Jill. I got up and ran to my bedroom, ending up on the bed. Jill padded along behind me after a minute.

"Zane?" she wondered. "When is the last time you had sex with Uncle Tim?" I whispered so quietly that Jill struggled to understand me. "But...no, don't do this, Zane, don't fall into apostasy," Jill simpered.

"I have a gift for you. It is something you want but I need you to answer the question," I offered. "What is the gift?" she asked, guardedly intrigued. "I can promise you no regrets," I countered. Jill weighed her options, turned, and left.

"Dinner," Jill called to me an hour later. I dutifully went downstairs to the dining room to enjoy a mediocre meal in silence. We barely exchanged a single glance. As I got up to clean the table -- cleaning was my chore -- Jill spoke. "Seven years."

I was pretty proud that I didn't fall over in shock. First off, in my teenage, hormone-addled mind, how could anyone go without sex for seven years? Next, how could someone with Jill as a wife not want to have sex at least once every seven hours? Finally...what was Tim doing in the lady-boy section of Bangkok when he found me that one time? I really feel like an idiot on occasion.

"I saved your three favorite Sunday dresses," I rewarded her. Jill's eyes showed a glimmer of hope. "Which ones? I mean, how did you know which ones were my favorites?" she pondered. "You told me, Aunt Jill. I do listen to you, ya know," I responded. She gave me the oddest look, as if I had just explained to her how Ruth slew Goliath, not David.

"Thank you," she whispered. The first battle of the Witch, the Brat, and the Wardrobe was over. The war would go on. The next time we went grocery shopping (Jill decided that the less time I was left alone, the slower I would plummet to my eventual fiery demise) I caught her noticing guys giving her the once over and she liked it, of that I'm sure. How do I know this? She let me talk to the cute stock girl for fifteen seconds before reeling me in, which was long enough for her to write her number on the palm of my hand. I called her and asked if she wanted to go to a sorority party when the semester began. She informed me she was a rising senior in high school so I gave her my number and told her to call me on her eighteenth birthday if she was still interested. You can't win them all -- immediately.

FFU

Now to the college I was attending; Freedom Fellowship University (yes, that is F-FU if you stutter) is the Christian college in my new hometown. Jill read about them in online chat rooms and by communicating with some of her Christian social network gal pals. She heard they had a dress code and without checking on the specifics, she bought me a dozen sets of black slacks and white shirts guaranteed to mark me as a social leper.

She signed me up for my classes. I opted for Pre-Med; she insisted I should go Pre-Law until I revealed my secret sinful desire to work for the ACLU, at which point she relented. She wanted me to play some sports, I suspect because she wanted me to have a safe hormonal outlet that didn't involve me touching women. I could have told her that dressed as I was, getting women (short of kidnapping) would be nearly impossible.

The problem was, they didn't offer any of the traditional sports except for soccer and track and field. I felt that was odd but I decided to sign up for soccer tryouts anyway. I also signed up for Karate, though I had no idea what a Christian school would be teaching that for, plus Archery (I've never used a bow before), Marksmanship (I've never fired a gun either), and Orienteering (because everyone gets lost in suburban Virginia and has to subsist on squirrel and road kill, right?). I downright refused to have anything to do with the Competitive Bible Study Team.

By the end of the admissions process I was beginning to think this was a school for some kind of uber-religious survivalists. Still, they accepted me on short notice and except for a tiny quirk in the online admissions form, I was sadly ready to go to college. It would be that tiny quirk that would change my life forever.

There Must Be a Church!

Before I could attend college there was one quibble to deal with and that was which church Jill and I would attend. I claimed to be partial to the Unitarians, mainly to watch Jill's face go from normal to pale to an angry beet red. Sometimes razzing her is too easy. Jill chose the First Anointed Free-willed Fellowship of Christ after carefully weighing, considering, and then utterly disregarding my input. I guess I had to be happy they weren't snake handlers.

On that first Sunday it was raining. I ended up having to run back into the house as Jill backed the car out of the garage and I took a header into a mud puddle in the lawn. Seeing how soaked I was, Jill allowed me to miss out on Sunday school. When I tried to get to the normal service my car wouldn't start (she'd insisted on buying me a used car, which I was now allowed to return for a new one).

The second Sunday was a comedy of errors. The garage door opened halfway, then got stuck, and Jill gave the wrong address to the church family she desperately called to come pick us up. On the third Sunday I was sick, so sick that I missed the SYFY movie classic of the week-(end) Saturday night -- Vampire Zombie Overlords II. Jill normally lets me watch it because I told her it shows science in a bad light. I would like to point out that Jill isn't stupid but she does tend to believe that which is most convenient to her world view, in this case, Science = Bad.

The fourth and final college-free Sunday, Buddy Jesus informed me that I had to go because no Act of God showed up to save me. It turned out that the First Anointed Free-willed Fellowship of Christ was huge -- one of those mega-churches and by the number of luxury cars in the parking lot, not one populated by the unwashed masses. Everyone was very, very friendly to the point where I refused to drink or eat anything they tried to force on me, fearing that I would become a drugged-out zombie filled with unconditional love and happiness toward the world. The one other weird thing was that there didn't seem to be any kids my age in the congregation. I had no Sunday school that day. I later learned this was the weekend of their Pre-College/High School Youth Retreat. Apparently everyone in this place acted as a herd.

Before we left I met with Pastor William Penny, chief shepherd of this flock, and he wanted to be my pal. Jill was enraptured with the guy but somehow he came across as creepy to me. Will, Jill, and a few well-meaning parishioners ended up steering me to the Pastor's office (which was as big as Jill's huge kitchen). There my new buddy wanted me to sign some paperwork.

Jill urged me to hurry up and get it over with and promised to take me to a nice steak house we'd seen but never been in, as if I was a small child easily pleased. Maybe I should have gone for pre-law because I ignored Jill and did read what they wanted me to sign. They wanted me to tithe...and not on my income, of which I had none, but on my net worth.

Everyone around me looked hopeful and I couldn't help but smile as I picked up the pen and started laughing. When they began looking confused I laughed harder, and that made them displeased. I didn't pick up the pen to write; I picked it up so I could stab the first one to rush me. "Listen up, Pastor Bill...can I call you Pastor Bill?" I didn't wait on his reply. "I don't know you or anyone but Aunt Jill in this room," I chuckled, "and I imagine you are all terribly nice folks, but it will be a cold day in Hell before I give millions of dollars to people I know nothing about."

"We are doing God's work," Pastor Bill assured me, "and please call me Pastor William." "Please," Jill pleaded, "this is what your Uncle Tim would want." For Jill's sake I didn't laugh out loud once again. Tim gave me billions of mosquito bites, outdoor plumbing, and ass-whoopings on a regular basis so all I felt I owed good ol' Tim was putting a heavy stone on his grave so that he didn't rise up from the dead when the End Times came.

In retrospect, Tim did me one favor; he taught me the ability to be verbally evasive when needed. "Aunt Jill, as Uncle Tim told me, being a Christian is a matter of Faith working through the mind and hands. It is my Christian duty to make sure that his legacy (really my Mom and Dad's) is placed where God wants it. Uncle Tim would make me pray deeply to the Almighty before taking such a momentous step, so pray I shall." Pastor Bill looked disappointed in me, which was a poor mask for his unsatisfied greed. Jill and the rest of the flock seem to have bought my act and that was the victory I needed to win right then. On the way back home Jill was pleased as punch. I'd expressed to her new friends what a wise saint good ol' Uncle Tim had been. This was the day I had to move into my dorm room on FFU's campus so I didn't have much time to dwell on everything that had happened.

Barbie Lynn Masters -- Dorm Mother

To say that I was pretty depressed when I began moving into college would have been an understatement. I met some nice girls who were also moving into my dorm but I wasn't much in the mood for talking. I found my room but they had my name wrong. Not only was I not Zane they even got Glenn wrong; they misspelled it as Glenda. I hadn't been unpacking fifteen minutes before this hottie breezed in asking if I was Glenda's brother. "Sure," I joked, "I'm Zane." "Can I see some ID? I'm the Dorm Mother," she asked pleasantly. I showed her my driver's license which read 'G. Zane Braxton'. "And you are?" I inquired. "Barbie Lynn Masters. Do you live close by?" she prodded. I looked around my room (which I shared with an as-of-yet unseen roomie), shrugged, and replied, "Yes. I live about a mile and a half away, just inside city limits," I played along. Couldn't she see that it was my name on the luggage in my room and I'd already unpacked?

"Can we count on seeing a lot more of you?" she purred, stepping up into my personal space. With her four-inch pumps, she was an inch taller than me, so I had to tilt my head up slightly to meet her gaze. "Unless you have a girlfriend, of course," she demurred. "I don't have a girlfriend but I'm looking for one," I grinned back. I wasn't really lying; I was looking for lots of girlfriends. "So, do you have a boyfriend?"

"Oh, no," she assured me. "I took a Purity Pledge and I have a fiancé so I can't be in a causal relationship with a boy, though being a 'friend' of a student I'm responsible for is fine." She licked her lips. My understanding of her convoluted reasoning was short-circuited by her D plus cleavage, perfect teeth, long light-golden hair, soft bedroom blue eyes, and blemish free, tanned skin.

I've never considered myself terribly bashful. I hadn't been with a welcoming and available female in two months; she was right there in my face, so I grabbed Barbie's ass subtly, pulled her close, and began kissing her. At first Barbie seemed to be all talk and no action, but that lasted all of five seconds before she was all over me with our tongues intertwining and our hands going over each other's backs and asses.

In a flash I had my hands up her pleated skirt, inside her plain white panties, and was massaging each muscular ass cheek separately and vigorously while my lips left hers and migrated to her neck and ear with kisses and bites, all of which seemed to really excite Barbie Lynn. She was moaning and grinding against me like a teenager coming down from a forty-eight hour unresolved porno binge.

Her left hand slid around to the front of my jeans and touched my crotch where I was rapidly coming to the fullness of life. "Oh, God!" she whispered as she began stroking me up and down. "Tell me that's not a rolled up sock." "Huh? What? No, that is all me. Why do you ask?" I mumbled between licks and kisses.

"Oh, some boys can be very dishonest," she sighed from past experience. "Does it hurt?" "No, it feels fine," I assured her. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt just a little bit?" she persisted as she groped my bulge. Something clued me in.

"Actually, it does hurt a little bit," I guessed. Barbie Lynn broke our embrace, padded silently over to the door, took a quick look out, then shut it. She was back in my arms in record time. "In that case, let me see it," she grinned. "How does a blowjob jive with your Purity Pledge?" I stupidly wondered out loud.

"Oh," she beamed an angelic radiance up at me as she slid down my body and unzipped my pants, our eyes locked together, "a blow job is sinful and done out of lust but relieving your pain is blessed and done out of love." "I feel myself getting closer to spiritual fulfillment every second I'm with you," I breathed huskily as she pulled down my pants and boxers, unleashing my manhood.

Barbie tentatively, with a bit of fear showing, licked the tip of my penis. I let her get used to me before resting a hand on her head. She responded by slowly engulfing my cockhead, which felt freaking awesome after my long dry spell (please remember I had virtually non-stop sex for two and a half years). She bobbed slightly while pumping my shaft rapidly with one hand and tickling my balls with the other. I tried to push a little bit but Barbie gagged. I guessed she wasn't too skilled at this but hey, everyone starts somewhere.

After five minutes she was taking more than half of my length in and doing so hungrily. "I hope you are not close to coming," she mumbled between mouthfuls. "Actually, I'm feeling greedy," I responded. She looked up at me, head still bobbing. "I can sense your pain and feel I should do something about it," I explained.

Now she looked confused so I backed up, pulled Barbie up by her waist and kissed her once more. I gracefully walked my hand down her waist and hip to her crotch. With a sharp intake of breath by Barbie, she melted into me and bit my shoulder. Next I spun us around and pushed her back on the bed at the corner, splaying her out for me as her bosom bounced sensually and enticingly. "What's on your mind?" Barbie asked with wide eyes. "I want a taste," I grinned evilly, which only turned her on more.

I fell between her outstretched knees. I made eye contact with her as she propped up on her elbows and my hands went to her panty waistband. I grinned, she blushed, and the panties came flying off. Barbie squeaked then slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle the noise. "Use my pillows to prop up your back," I directed Barbie Lynn since she clearly wanted to watch. I maneuvered Barbie into a suitable position so that I was kneeling on the floor with Barbie's silky smooth legs spread to either side. Barbie Lynn was propped up so that she could watch me work. I got the feeling she was used to some level of stimulation, just not from a guy. I could deal with that.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this now, or go back to my place where it is safer?" she asked. "I'm too hungry for you right now; your scent is intoxicating," I finished up saying, and then I went in. I didn't rush things because every first time should be special. My right hand traced the line along the sides and rear of Barbie Lynn's thighs. My left hand traced the line over her pubic area to her stomach that finally ended with her left breast.

"Hurry," she panted. I knew she had somewhere to be but I was aware she could use some stress relief too. Barbie reached down with a hand to control my left hand and head but I was obeying my instincts. By the time she made up her mind to stop me, I overwhelmed Barbie with a pleasurable, mindwarping first orgasm. The noise brought a few students sneaking in to take a peak.

Once I had a semblance of control over her, I began a series of actions to excite her whole body. On the second orgasm she wrapped her legs around my head and nearly crushed it. While I lapped up her juices, I decided to follow that up by kissing Barbie and giving her some of her own fluids to taste -- a trick new to her.

I kept my dick sheathed, though all three of Barbie's holes looked delightful. I figured she wasn't ready yet but I did manage to take off her shirt in the process and fondling and suckling at her magnificent breasts. After the third and fourth orgasms, Barbie passed out, and when she woke up, she whispered to me that she wanted my dick in her mouth and pussy. Purity Pledge? What Purity Pledge?

Barbie Lynn confided in me that she'd sucked dick before and thought she was quite good at it, and that a few men had temped her cunt and ass with real penetration but all she had done so far was pleasure herself with toys and with the aid of other (female) students here at school. She was still technically a virgin (no boy parts had penetrated her vagina) but she'd done 'everything else.' Was she or was she not an anal virgin? My money was on virginity.

Barbie was pleased that I was going to her church (it was highly popular at the college, she told me), almost as pleased as I was to find her so receptive and hungry for more sex. I told her she needed sexier underwear and that I would gladly go shopping with her for some in case she wanted to model any (yes, I know they don't let you model underwear). While we talked I helped her get dressed, though we couldn't find her panties.

We slipped out after that, Barbie to tend to her girls and me to go to my Aunt's. I told her I'd see her tomorrow. Barbie laughed as if she didn't believe me. As I left, I began to appreciate the guy: girl ratio of this place because it was looking very good in my favor. My evening with Jill passed uneventfully; we stayed up late as Jill suddenly realized she was going to be alone for the first time in years so I didn't end up sneaking quietly into my dorm room until well past midnight.