Barbara Alba’s
forbidden sex diary
Steve Howard
PUBLISHED BY:
Steve Howard on Smashwords
Barbara Alba’s forbidden sex diary
Copyright © 2010 by Steve Howard 773U5
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission by the copyright owner and the publisher of this book, except in the case of quotations embodied in critical articles, essays and reviews.
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Table of Content
chapter 04 _ Fuck the School Therapist
chapter 06 _ Fuckin’ Jesus Christ
chapter 09 _ Taking Over the World
chapter 14 _ Are You a Lesbian
chapter 15 _ Give Me the Mandrakes
chapter 16 _ Visit with My Therapist
chapter 17 _ Swinging My Sticks
chapter 26 _ Planning Our Trip
chapter 29 _ We are the Angels
chapter 31 _ Expanding Esau’s Horizons
chapter 32 _ Missing David Girland
chapter 33 _ I Wore a Pretty Dress
chapter 36 _ The Universe Came Second
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“Cunt.”
I saw the priest twitch. Everyone between me and the priest twitched. Like the world had been shut off and on so fast that the lights hadn’t dimmed. But everyone felt the twitch. And the reason the world had to be turned off was perfectly clear. In the perversion they called the real world, inside a Catholic Church, girls don’t say, ‘Cunt’. Especially during a sermon about our wretched sinful condition. Loud enough that the priest hears it.
So the world had to be shut down so that no one thought about the significance of.
Cunt.
But I saw the significance. I was pissed off. In our Sunday school lessons for the last two weeks we learned about Herod beheading John the Baptist at the request of his little niece. It was getting close to Christmas and we should have been rehearing the story of Herod’s father Herod raping Mother Mary and Joseph taking her to Bethlehem to have the bastard kid in a barn. Or a house, but no one ever told that story. They took the three kings from the house story and added them to the three shepherds on a hill story and the whole bloody western world had images of little baby Jesus with donkeys, sheep, goats and hey. Never any lumps of shit. Baby Jesus being pissed on by a cow. Everything was clean. And on the next corner from the idiotic manger show was fat fucking Santa Claus reminding everyone of a different fairytale. A gentle reminder that the three idiot wise men who were actually really just random stars in the sky pointing at the dog star but no let’s pretend they were real and they brought gifts for little baby Jesus who was a repeat of other older fairytales also based on astrology so buy buy buy until you die to help increase the country’s debt that is mostly owed to China and the Rothschild pricks. What the hell did Herod raping girls and chopping off the head of John the Baptist have to do with any of the other nonsense.
I heard the prick priest as a prattling drone and wondered about the Roman Elite. The tyrannical use of stolen power. It seemed a shame that there was so little written about them. The bloody Jews where taking up most of the space in the stories.
We learn that if a little girl decides she wants the head of John the Baptist on a plate, she gets it. For doing a dance. Never mind the uncles and dads were always raping little girls. It was the girl’s fault for making the pathetic bastard horny to fuck her. We didn’t get to read about the orgies. There was the odd mention of some holy fucker thinking he fucked a temple prostitute but she turned out to be his daughter-in-law that had gone through two of his sons without managing to get pregnant, so a useless woman. But all the detail about cunt eating and cock sucking and all the other things that happened six days a week that brought in more money than the bit they collected from the idiots that came to hear bullshit once a week to know what to believe and how to live was missing. Likely safely hidden in the vaults of the Vatican for the monks to read while they rapped choirboys.
I usually didn’t get so upset that what was in my head came out so others could hear it as I sat daydreaming while the priest did his Sunday show. Something was eating me.
One of the thing that pissed me off about the bloody Roman Catholic Church was their big stinking bald face lie that everyone was a scum bag sinner and had to pay the goddamn murdering gold hoarding Church to get a third class ticket to heaven.
I hardly noticed the ride back home after church. I hadn’t said anything to anyone after having said ‘cunt’. No one mentioned that I had said ‘cunt’ because it was too shocking to have really been real. Like Sarah getting raped by a Lord. Or the Virgin Mary getting raped by a Lord. Or her cousin, the mother of John the Baptist getting raped by a Lord. Lot raping his two little girls after trying to get the city folk to gang bang them. Rape, murder, rape plunder, rape slavery, rape. Woman is evil. Rape the bitch. Rape the slave and the handmaid too. No one talked about all the bloody rape. Rape; no rape wasn’t real. These where our holy fucking ancestors. Fuck me. People are fucking idiots.
“I hate Church.”
My parents already knew that. But as long as I was living under their roof, I was going to church with them. Even if church was a murderous vile lie, it was expected. Even fucking presidents had to go to church or they would not be acceptable in fucking warmongering America. Fucking holy murdering madmen. And I was to refrain from saying obscenities within the grounds and building of the church. It was a law. Fucking handed down from the biggest prick of the fairytale, Lord Child Rapist Number One. Fucking Moses. There is a proper way to act and it has been written by pervert pricks as law forever to keep women where they belong, on their knees. Sucking cock or washing the floor.
At home or in the school yard it was tolerated to cuss. Dad was sometimes caught at it. Children learned form their parents by watching how they did it. I could call my brother Esau whatever I wanted, he didn’t care, but not adults. You can’t call your mom a cunt. Teachers also need to be handled with care. They had to fucking well be respected because they knew the fucking rules to their fucking goddamn game. The follow the leader be a fucking moron monkey game.
“Pass the salt, Fuck wit.”
“Eat me, Bitch.”
“You can lick my ass and pass the salt, fuck face.”
“Anny, if you can’t relax a little you can go to your room.”
Relax. Not likely. I was using all my control to keep from blowing up.
Mom passed the salt and gave Esau a look to say he could have passed the salt and me a look to remind me that the fucking magic word was please and not shit, piss, fuck, cunt, prick or cock.
Mom always talked about church people on Sunday. It was one of those unwritten rules. At Sunday afternoon dinner all the news about who had a baby, who was seeing who, who bought a new car, what old prick died or what old widow died and left her family’s money to the thieving fucking church.
“Fuuuck.
“Anny.”
“It hurts. I think the prick poisoned me.”
I could see that they could see I wasn’t bullshitting. I was feeling as pail as I must have appeared. I could smell the corn in the mixed vegetables. It seemed to suggest it was going to take over. But I could still see everything. It looked like it should have been that everything seemed to be overwhelmed by the smell of corn.
Mom helped me to the sofa; Esau wet a dish town to hold on my head and my Dad called the doctor.
“I don’t give a damn if it’s Sunday, she’s bloody well dying. If you aren’t here in the next 10 minutes I’ll sue for malpractice and your descendents will still be paying your debts when the next ice age is over.”
My Dad hung up and looked at me looking at him with a holy shit is that my dad flipping out look.
“You’re not going to die, Anny.”
“I sure as fuck hope not.”
I closed my eyes and concentrated on not dying. I kept seeing the faces of the two buggers that had been responsible for the original cut. The big ugly faces of brutal idiocy. Every voice and every sound got through to me. I could see the real faces around me. Just it didn’t really seem like I was me. I felt like I was twice as big as I was. Laying on pillows after an all night orgy of eating and puking and fucking and sucking the cocks of priests while they counted their gold and sliced the throats of the odd virgin. In my state of being me in another place in another time I still could hear that I spoke at the right times and knew my name and where I was. I knew that eventually the prick doctor was cutting me and draining poisons out of his previous mistake. Fucking doctors. And I heard him say I would be okay. I looked at him and willed him to wither and die but he just hurried out of the house like an old Jew that had charged too much interest on the loan that my father had sold his business to pay.
He wasn’t a Jew. He was a Catholic cunt. He was the fucker that fucked me up and didn’t bother telling anyone. He was supposed to fix the fuckup the fuckups made when they first opened me up when I wouldn’t open up. They stuck me with a dirty knife. Fucked up child molesters. Fuck the lot of you, you fucking fuckups and greedy morons.
It was a weird trip and everything seemed very different while I slowly regained my health. I felt reborn. I was back as a different me and there would be no prisoners taken. The little girl had been made into an angry bitch. Teenage mutant maniac.
And when I should have been thinking of roaming through the country smashing the faces of fuckups, all I could think of was sex. I dreamed of sex. Wild relentless orgies. Sex with anyone and everyone. And when I was awake I couldn’t, maybe partly because I didn’t really try, get sex out of my thoughts.
I stood in front of my mirror and undressed to seduce the image. I looked at my scar and thought it looked tough. A war scare. The little Amazon bitch. And I was sure they didn’t cut off their right tit. Even if Amazon meant without a tit. They were all bisexual and loved tits more than penises. They might have strapped leather over their one tit to keep it out of the way of the bowstring so it looked like they only had one tit but hacking of tits, not likely. That would be right up there with cutting off your clit so you weren’t gonna worry about sex your whole life. And no girl did that of her own free will. Only fucking ignorant fuckups did such things. Fuck, I’d like to smash those fuckups. Mutilating children because they came from a tribe of cum too fast limp dicks that feared the sexuality of women. Paranoid patriarchy.
Most men were moronically mad about tits and would do just about anything the owner of mighty tits commanded. I looked at my tits and held the right one tight and imagined shooting past it. They were pretty nice tits for a young woman. I looked at the rest of me. Between my legs, just above my cunt. Was a golden cloud of fine pubic hair. It made the difference. I was once a child and thought and spoke like a child without pubic hair. Then I was a young woman. The most dangerous creature on the planet. And I thought and spoke like a crazy cunt.
“Give me the head of John the Baptist on a silver tray, Uncle Daddy.”
It wasn’t what I wanted. I liked John. He was a little crazy from eating bugs in the desert but he went after what he wanted. He seemed like a man with a pair of big balls. I would have dance for Uncle Daddy on the table in front of his arrogant aristocrat asshole warmongering slave owner child molesting pricks then asked for John the Baptist on an island. With no one other than my highly paid servants that were not permitted to speak in my presences before being spoken to. And John was to be my sex slave.
And of course he didn’t even pretend to resist. He looked up my body slowly like looking at a statue of the goddess of resurrection on his way to my eyes. He would lick anything and everything for the pure heavenly pleasure of communing with a goddess that had taken him to paradise to give him exactly what he most desired.
It seemed like forever before he got down on his knees, not to worship me or beg but to work his way over my toes careful not to miss any of my skin. He sucked on my toes like he was giving me ten blowjobs. He rubbed my toes against his hard on to show me that the pleasure of my toes was enough to enrage his hormones. Then he finally broke from my feet to kiss his way slowly up my legs. Licking the slight saltiness from behind my knees and eating at the hollow like he was digging his tongue into the heaven of my virgin vagina. I was dripping wet when he finally kissed, licked and chewed his way up to my golden cloud. I could feel him sucking in my smell, rubbing his nose through my fine hairs. When he sensed from my trembling that I could not bear to wait for him to find heaven’s gate, his tongue worked its way over and around my swollen lips. I sailed through the galaxy as he gently licked my aching clitoris. Licked with gentle desire. With hunger. Drinking in my juices like a moth that had flown the desert to drink the nectar of the one flower in the one garden hidden in a sea of sand dunes. His one reason for making the life long journey was to see me convulse with his face in my vagina and my hands gripping his head. Not letting him go and he not attempting the thought until he drank in my orgasm. His sperm bursting out over my feet and legs as he swallowed my pleasure.
I took my hands from my drippy cunt and licked them clean before falling into bed to see where my dreams would take me.
Months went by without me noticing much of my time spent. I noticed that people looked at me differently in school. Puberty had really laid into me and it was hard not to notice. A few guys asked me out but I turned them all down. I wasn’t into that boyfriend girlfriend thing most everyone was proud to flaunt. Guys with there hands on girls at their lockers and anytime the coast was clear, as in no teachers in sight, the tongues down the throats routine. Like they had learned how to be from a Hollywood teeny movie. No thank you.
Though I got good marks, the content of our schooling seemed a little lame. Esau was certain they were trying to keep America ignorant so they could keep the privately owned prisons full for cheap labour and the military strong with kids that were certain to go mad when they were dropped into a dessert full of brown folk that had the nerve to live over our oil. We did have more than 100 counties that demanded our soldiers so that the mineral wealth could be plundered by giant multi-nationals.
Most of my learning came from reading. Some, of course, from experimenting. And it was my mission to learn the ways of sex. Mostly out of self interest. It was a forbidden topic on account Catholics weren’t allowed to have sex until they were married. At least that is what we were told. Reality was a little different. Even the priests that had chosen abstinence sometimes made it to the news with their child raping escapades. Of course they were above the law and the only effect it had was that a few left the church each time they pretty well just explained it away.
It was Sunday morning again. I knew from the sounds. Although it wasn’t nearly as early as the weekdays, it was a bit of a drag having to get up on Sunday. But fuck it, learning about the Bible was actually fun. Of course only one side of the storey was ever told. Priest weren’t likely to call themselves lying snakes. Whores of the warlords. Just because some bastard they call Jesus Christ was raving his whole life long that priests and lawyers were a bunch of snakes from hell. A crazy fucked up situation. A very seriously misunderstood fairytale made into a Hollywood horror show that was force-fed to us as reality. And we fucking well ate it up.
Saturday was my favorite day. There was no time scheduled. It was a day to masturbate in the morning before even thinking about getting out of bed. Then pissing away the day any way one cared to.
Sunday was like a holiday from reality day. One of those dreaded holidays that the parents had chosen because they thought it would be a good experience for the family. It was a twice on Sunday and once on Wednesday evening holiday contract. Signed in blood with the holy blood of the lamb and 10% Church tax. For the fuckin’ Pope to help finance his fortified palace tax-free empire.
“Anny, breakfast is on the table.”
“Coming.”
I was fairly calm and allowed Mom to ramble on about all the Sunday reruns. She never got board talking about other people. Even if they were all stink normal. About as interesting as a talk show that always had fat idiots talking about petty troubles and myopic insights into everyday trauma. America was rotting and no one seemed to care.
“Another Sunday Pope Holiday. Bring your family to our Churches we have built with your money, your grandparents’ money, money stolen from slain pagans and poor widows. Learn why you suck and need us to help you find your way in the evil world. Don’t forget to bring your money.”
“Enough Anny, eat your eggs.”
I was hungry, so I did. And attempted to hold my mouth. I had a stinky attitude against the God con. I saw Esau trying not to smile every time I blasphemed the church. He had gone through the same faze. He was not likely to ever get out of it but he didn’t talk about it with my parents anymore. He was more interested in hockey and jerking off to porno clips he downloaded from the Internet. He went to church partly to keep the peace but mostly to talk to his friends and watch the young women.
“The priest is a cunt.”
“Anny.”
“Prick.”
“Esau.”
I didn’t have Tourette syndrome but I had something that made it hard for me to control my outbursts. Rage. The world was too full of shit and it drove me crazy trying to understand why so few noticed. Just entertain the morons and they’ll buy whatever shit is stuffed down their throats.
I threw the dishes in the dishwasher before prancing out the front door in my not so modest dress that fit a little looser a year ago.
Mom and Dad where already sitting in the car. Mom’s car. Dad’s car was a bit too over the top for going to church. It was necessary for his work. That was his story. Esau was looking up into the sky letting the gentle rain fall on his face before getting into the car. He watched me from the time the front door shut till I got into the car. I gave him the finger before I plopped in the back seat and he smiled at me like a brother shouldn’t.
“You are a real bastard.”
“Nothing I can do about it now, Bitch.”
We argued just enough to keep Mom on edge. It was tradition. Every Sunday the kids where a problem getting out the door and a pain in the ass on the way to the sanctuary. Dad didn’t even seem to notice. Mom wanted us to be nice but hoped God would let us into heaven even if we had bad attitudes.
When we saw the church we dummied up. Esau had his friends to talk to as soon as he got out of the car. Other sons that went to church with their parents to keep the peace. Many also went to the same Catholic school and played music together and hockey too.
I decided I would conduct myself like a young lady. And try to seduce every man I could to think of sex inside a fuckin’ holy place. I was a little bitch testing out her abilities, and I didn’t give a fuck about rules of conduct. The church was a fucking hoax. Pretend to give a fuck about God on Sundays and show everyone that you were there, taking your dose of Bible therapy.
I wasn’t the only under age young woman dressed just a little too provocative. Dress up show. Even kids had suit jackets and nice slacks. Men wore suits even if they were blue-collar workers. Almost every woman wore a dress, even if she looked like she was wearing a tent. Big fat temples of the Lord. And none of the women gave a fuck about Paul who said that women should shut the fuck up in church. The older women seldom followed the hair rule. Fact was, most no one knew what was in the bloody holy book. Club Catholic.
I knew enough from Esau’s years of questioning Mom and Dad on it. Enough that I actually read the bloody thing too. But like most Catholics, we were born into the cult and it was like being a Jew. Just do it. Play homage to unquestioned customs and honour holy holidays. It didn’t mean anything. Hamsters on the wheel.
I wanted to demonstrate to myself that it was just as easy to seduce someone in a church as it was at a party. Inside the entrance, I dropped my purse so that I would have to bend over to pick it up. I knew there were enough men behind me to have my ass watched. And enough men in front of me to have my cleavage watched. I didn’t turn around to see who looked at my ass but I did catch who was looking too long at my tits. Men were simple creatures. I was a bitch in heat. And it didn’t matter that we were in God’s holy presence. They watched me closely and thought of sex. With little girls.
With a look and a little nod, I got one to follow me down stairs into the utilities room. He pretended like he wasn’t. Even stopped at the drinking fountain down stairs and watch as I gave a quick look before slipping into the ‘ain’t got no business in there’ room. I pulled my dress down a little over my tits as I waited to see if the adventurer would follow the devil’s mistress into the dark den of temptation.
He did. What was an eternity in Hell when tits were in the here and now.
“Hi.”
I smiled and waited to see how he would deal with the situation.
“What’s your name.”
“Barbaralba.”
“Really. Never heard a name like that before.”
“It’s not really my real name. She’s my alter ego. Let’s me be whatever I want to be.”
“What’s your real name.”
“Joanna.”
“My name is Jake.”
“That’s nice, Jake. Do you want to touch my tits. We don’t have much time.”
He tentatively touched my tits and smiled like he was just given an ice-cream cone.
“They won’t break.”
Jake giggled and squeezed a little harder. He slipped his hand under my bra and fumbled around with my nipple. When I didn’t move, he ventured to kiss me. I reached down to rub his crotch and he twitched. And I laughed and kept rubbing his crotch and stroking along his hard on. Then I stopped rubbing his cock and ran my fingernails up his zipper. He moved one of his hands down to my ass. He twitched again when I pulled his zipper down and slid my hand inside his trousers and rubbed his cock through his underwear. I got a finger through the opening and stroked along the shaft up and down until I finally reached my hand in and held his erection.
As I rubbed it up and down a little I felt his cock throb. He was trying not to cum but he also didn’t want me to stop until he did. And I didn’t want to stop until he came. I wanted to feel what it was like to have an exploding cock in my hand. The closer he came to ejaculating the more aggressive his kissing became. Then he couldn’t hold it anymore, groaned a little both from pleasure and confusion about having a mess of sperm in his pants. It was nice to feel his sperm pressing through his penis. When he was done pumping, I explored the wet of his sperm and rubbed it over his head and he twitched and bulked a little as I worked the sperm down his fading hard on down to his balls. I rubbed him softly a little longer before pulling my hand out of his underwear and rubbing my fingers clean on his underwear, pushing his penis around a little more so that the sperm was nicely spread around then closed up his zipper for him.
“Wait for a minute before leaving. Just in case.”
Just in case you smell too much like fresh sperm.
“Can I call you.”
“No. Nothing personal. I just wanted a cock to play with.”
I went to the washroom to give my hands a quick wash and then went to my Sunday School class. And oddly enough I had trouble paying attention and my mind kept wandering toward sex. I would have to see about getting some.
Finally it was Monday. Sunday night the young people get away with sitting alone up in the balcony as long as they are there and not heard. Better than on a street corner turning tricks to pay for a crack habit.
Like in some parts of the city. The Asshole of America. The center of corruption. The first signs of a falling empire. Babylon’s most recent capital.
A boy took the liberty to sit beside me in the back pew. He was likely a friend of the boy I gave a hand job to in the utilities room. I absentmindedly touched my cleavage and played with my cross hanging on my breasts. Most people thought it was a Christian icon and thought about a crucified Jesus when they ventured to think about such things. Behind the priest was a life size tortured bleeding dying Jesus on a cross. Unlike most Catholics who were ignorant of any history before the Bible, I knew there were three astrological crosses in the heavens. They were random references of course but the whole cross idea came from silly primates staring at the night sky. And in several other legends older than Judaism and Christianity, there was a child born of a virgin, and that too was astrological, and he represented the sun that died on the cross. From a northern hemisphere point of view, at the beginning of winter when the sun, Jesus, or Horus, or any other name used by any other legend, was at the lowest, as in died, and three days later was resurrected.
But the boy beside me was not likely interested in such knowledge. Knowledge was for cursed women. Eve and the rest of the witches that were cursed and or murdered by the religious morons. Murdering in the name of the Prince of Peace. I lifted my right leg over my left, squirmed a little to get my dress pulled up far too far for a modest Catholic girl and turned away from the boy a little so he could better steal a look at my ass. It was dark enough and near empty in the back balcony pews so no one noticed when I let my hand slide slowly down my ass and pull up my dress just a little more to reveal my muscular thigh. I rubbed my leg just a little before touching the leg of the boy beside me.
We both watched the priest give his sermon. Not the sounds. We were watching to make certain we made no sound. Even when my hand rested on his hard on there were no sounds but the drone from beyond the balcony. He flexed his cock until I started gently squeezing it.
He let out a little sign of relief and hitched about a little and opened his legs so I knew he was hoping I would get in between them. I played with his balls through his pants with my wrist lying over his penis. When it started growing, I started stroking it and moved it gently up along his zipper. Then I ran my fingernails along his zipper very slowly to make a low clicking sound.
When he started lifting up his cock to get more attention from my touch, I very slowly started working his fly open. I pulled his boxer shorts around his penis and took it out to have a look at it. The priest got a little louder just at that moment so I didn’t move for a minute but just held his hard on firmly. When the priest settled down again, I ran my finger along the sperm tube and pressed out the little ball of early pre ejaculation sperm. I gathered it on my finger and put it on my tongue. I swished it around my mouth to work up a little spit and filled my fist with it and went back to stoking his erection tightly and slowly.
He was trying not to cum as he started throbbing. Then he exploded. Some of the sperm shot up onto his shirt but most of it flowed down over my hand. I worked it over his fading erection and down around his balls. Having it well worked into his skin, I pulled his boxer shorts over his penis and rubbed it gently for a while until my hand was clean. I pulled up his zipper nice and slow.
Everyone but the bus driver and an old woman got off the bus. The rest of us were students going to a catholic school. I tried to think of something other than ejaculating penises.
My new best friend Kate got out of her Dad’s car.
“Anny, you look fuckin’ dangerous.”
“Thanks Kate.”
“What are you thinking, Anny. You look a little crazed.”
I looked at her and smiled.
“I was just thinking about the hand job I gave some guy in the back of the church last night while we watch and didn’t really listen to the priest talking about mortal sins and the rest of the gibberish he likes to spout once a week.”
“Some guy. You don’t know him.”
“No. I’m not interested in Catholic boys, they are a bunch of arrogant women patronizers and hypocrites.”
“And did you make him cum.”
“He exploded like a volcano. It was really cool. I love it when the sperm come bursting out under my hand.”
“What did you do with all the sperm.”
“There isn’t that much really. I just rubbed it over his cock and balls and through his pubic hair and sopped up the rest with his boxer shorts.”
“Did he ask you for your number.”
“No. He didn’t say a word. It was real cool. Like we just stepped out of the fake world of the church and met in the jungle and he wanted a hand job and I wanted to have a penis explode in my hand.”
“You are a little slut.”
“I’m still a virgin. And I’m a nice Catholic girl and I come from a respectable Catholic family and go to an expensive Catholic private school.”
“You have little slut written all over you.”
“Do you still like me.”
“I’m just a little jealous, maybe.”
Kate gave me a look to make it clear that she wanted to know more about sex.
“I could use some help on my Math. If you got nothing planned, maybe you could come over and help me a bit tonight.”
“I have to babysit my little brother tonight but you come to my place and my father will cook something Turkish for us. He’s a great cook.”
Kate kissed my cheek and rushed off to her locker to get her books for first class and I did the same.
Suddenly, instead of penises, I was thinking of Kate and having trouble paying attention in class. She was so hot since she barreled into puberty. I was so worked up about thinking of her lips and her skin and her warm soft dark green eyes that I was dripping wet when I went from first class to second class.
“Fuck off.”
I almost punch one of the super idiots in the head. He looked at me as if I was his cheap whore.
“You can suck my cock, Bitch.”
“Not after you fucked your father.”
I was already by him by the time he figured out what to make of my answer to his proposal. There was no way for him to know it, but I was not the least afraid of his he-man body. He was a slug and I would delight in laying a beating on him. Esau assured me I was a dangerous bitch. And though we fought often, it was obvious that he adored his little bitch sister.
Through second class I thought about Esau. It surprised me to think about what I could have him do to me or me to him. He would never make a move on me because I was his little sister but he likely would not resist me.
In my mind, I was now not only a slut, lesbian but also incestuous and violent. Esau was well aware of my violence. He had helped me refine my fighting style and he ended up with more bruises than I did.
I actually managed to concentrate on my history teacher in third class. I didn’t hear a word he said but I imagined sucking on his cock while he gave his lesson. I imagined him licking my ass while one of the students was reading a passage from some American propaganda obvious embellished patriotic crock of shit.
And when the teacher went back to talking, I imagined his cock exploding in my ass. I wasn’t the only one wondering about having sex with him. He was a man and young women dreamed about being well fucked by an older man that would do anything and everything to a young woman if he only had the chance.
I met Esau at his locker after school.
I punched him in the arm from behind and he spun around and put me in a headlock. I grabbed his balls, which surprised his friends a little. A couple of his friends were a very confused.
“What’s up, Anny.”
“I’m not coming home for supper. I’m going over to Kate’s to prepare for tomorrows Math test.”
“Okay, but don’t be too late.”
I smiled and kissed him on the cheek, spun around and left with Kate. I carefully didn’t notice the questioning looks of his friends. I knew Esau would spin them a story if they asked. And it would be much closer to true than he realized.
“Who’s the hot guy, Anny.”
“My big brother.”
“Really. How come I never met him before.”
“You’ve never been to my house. He’s in grade twelve so you don’t have any classes with him.”
It wasn’t really the answer to her question. He question was more, ‘when can I meet him’. We stood out by the street and waited for Kate’s mother to pick us up.
“Hi, Mom. This is Anny. She’s going to study with me tonight. I told her Dad would cook for us.”
“Hi, Anny. I hope you like Turkish food, that’s all my husband ever cooks.”
“Kate told me he was a great cook.”
Kate mom smiled and listened to us talk about the pending Math test.
Kate’s little brother was two years old and very cute. We kept him occupied while Kate’s mom helped Kate’s dad prepare supper. We put little Davey in his crib before we sat down at the dinning room table for a really nice meal.
After a small and very sweet dessert, we went to Kate’s room and she kissed me as soon as we sat down on her bed. It was a tentative yet not very shy kiss. A test kiss to see if we were going to have a second kiss. We did. We kissed and kissed and touched each other before spreading out the math book.
“Have you ever kissed a girl before, Anny.”
“No.”
“Me neither. Have you kissed a boy before.”
“Just one. The guy I gave a hand job to in the utilities room of the church a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t like that though. He was too concerned about my hand bringing him to an ejaculation.”
“I’m so horny, Anny.”
We kissed gently until Kate’s hand worked its way down my pants and inside my wet lips.
“What about your parents.”
“They just pulled out of the driveway.”
We kept kissing and started taking each other’s clothes off. When Kate got my bra off she started licking and kissing my breasts. She sucked my nipples so that they were like little erections. She pushed me down on my back so she could pull my pants off. She sniffed my wet panties and licked my legs before pulling my panties off.
She ate my vagina with such hunger that I had to shut my eyes and moan. I wrapped my legs around her head and ran my fingers through her thick black hair. Just before I thought I was going to have an orgasm she stood up and pulled the rest of her clothes off and put her ass in my face for me to lick. I put my tongue in her tight asshole.
Kate tongue kissed my clitoris until I finally had an orgasm.
Kate licked me gently for a little longer before turning around and sitting her vagina before me. I looked up and smiled at her.
“Lick me, Anny.”
I did. I licked her lips swollen, kissed and licked her clitoris until she had an orgasm. Then we slowed down and held our bodies together, kissed a little and touched each other.
We didn’t get any math done before her parents came home. When we heard the car pull in the drive, we got dressed and Kate started explaining a math problem while I looked at her and smiled. She smiled back and I tried to understand for about a half an hour before I told her I better get home to bed so I’d be fit for the next day.
Kate’s dad offered to drive me but I declined. I wanted to clear my head before I had to deal with my parents. It wasn’t too far so I stuffed my books in my backpack and ran home. The rain soaked me through but I had hardly noticed. I was watching my feet hitting the puddles and splashing the water.
When I got home, I took a quick shower before answering my mother’s questions about Kate’s family.
“Kate’s father is a cop. And a Turkish cook. I didn’t catch what her mom did. But I think she makes the big money.”
“Is her dad Turkish.”
“I saw a copy of the Koran but I think he was born right here in the capital. His mom, I think, is Turkish. His father might actually be Mexican. I don’t know. I’m only guessing from what pictures I saw over the fire place.”
I answered the rest of the questions as best I could, made up a bunch of the answers before going up to bed.
Then I masturbated myself to sleep.
chapter 04 _ fuck the school therapist
I had an appointment with the school’s therapist. My physical education teacher was not pleased with my aggressive attitude toward a few of the football meatheads that were out training while we ran around the track. I had given a ‘fuck you’ to the same prick that had been provoking me every chance he got. He was one of those ‘love to hate women and fuck them so it hurt like the dirty slut needed it’ kind of assholes.
The therapist had a title of counselor and was a man of God but the students called him the rapist. He had never raped anyone. At least not to my knowledge. He was actually quite sweet. Just a little dopy when it came to the younger generation. I knew he went to the same church with his boring wife and two sons. The two sons weren’t there every Sunday. I had no intention of seducing him when I went into his office.
He was talking to me. Assuring me nothing I said would leave the room. I had been to see him before and he knew I had missed some school because of my infected knife wound. We had talked about my bitterness toward men who abused little girls. And their wives.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Well, maybe I am a little mad at my doctor but I don’t think I harbour hate toward him. I don’t think about the men who attacked me so often. I don’t really hate anyone. I just get real pissed off at stupidity sometimes. And that’s why I have trouble with some of the team football morons. They are so stupid it irritates me when they make their sexual remarks that aren’t really sex but more like threats of rape like our history is so full of. Like our heroes from the Old Testament. Treating women like they owned them. Plundering cities and killing all the men and women and taking the young virgins and raping them. Even Paul pisses me off with his demeaning dictating to women that they are to be servants to their masters. Like Sarah who was whored out by her brother-husband for goats, sheep, camels, slaves and silver. And what did he do with the slaves. What most pricks did. All the great heroes raped their handmaids. Fuck and rape as many women as possible. A sperm spreading quest. A moronic game. Or course it is written that the rape victims wanted to bare children for their masters. For what is a woman but a child bearer. And Lot pisses me off the most. Raping his two little girls up in the hills after the genocide of two cities by terrorists. Then they make genocide, rape and plunder holy. And idiots still act like women are to be their slaves. It makes me angry.”
My therapist looked at me and tried to figure where to start.
“What happened with you doctor.”
“He tried to poison me.”
I explained to him how. And reminded him I didn’t care to go on about it. My anger was more general. Then I explained that if I wasn’t thinking about smashing in the face of someone that wanted to rape me, I was thinking of sex.
“There isn’t much anyone can do about that. As much as we like to pretend that it isn’t, sex is part of us. It is how we are. That is why we ask for God’s help.”
“Why would God make us sexual creatures, supposedly in his image, hell, he even said his six day creation of the world was good. He even threw in billions of billions of stars to make the night sky pretty. If he didn’t want us to have sex, why the hell he make us two sexes. Every creature has sex. Why this game of hide our sexual desire then go through history raping young girls. Rape is almost never reported and even with the few reported it is a frightening number. It is a clear indication that the minds of many men are sick. Rape makes me very angry. And it makes me even angrier that it has been made into holy books.”
“You have every right to be angry, Anny.”
I laughed just a little laugh. He didn’t want to admit I was right because he had a job in one of the biggest murder, plunder and rape clubs of the last 2,000 years. But he couldn’t tell me I was wrong.
“Are you Catholic, Mr. Spelling.”
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t be working here if I wasn’t.”
I looked at him. Waiting for him to explain.
“You are a clever girl, Anny. Maybe too clever.”
“Too clever.”
“It’s what makes you angry.”
“Should I get a lobotomy.”
“No. It’s just you will have trouble fitting in. Most people never stop to think. So you are going to seem strange to most people.”
“Do you think I’m strange, Mr. Spelling.”
“You are a thinker in a country that doesn’t think. In a world that doesn’t think. I have studied a long time and read many books and never stopped to wonder about Lot raping his little girls even though I’ve read it several times. You would have been burnt at the stake not so many years ago for such a blasphemy, even if it is an obvious truth staring us in the face.”
Mr. Spelling was staring out the window and looking most bewildered.
“Mr. Spelling.”
“I’m so sorry, Anny.”
“It’s okay.”
“No it’s not okay. I have been protecting a brutal lie by working for the Catholic Church. I have almost had the question in my mind before but it so terrified me to have to deal with the question of my religion.”
I pulled my sweater up over my head, letting my belly show. With my head covered, he could look at it while I dropped my sweater beside me. He had managed to get back up to my tits before I looked at him. They where big enough for a bra but there they were this day without support with their nipples poking through my t-shirt.
Fa Kit. It was a mock brand name. It wasn’t allowed. My tits may have hinted at something other than submissive innocence. My therapist wouldn’t stop reading. Fa Kit.
“Anny.”
It might be considered evil to seduce an older man after shattering his illusions. I was always surprised that people really believed what they said they believed. I’ve heard so many different reasons why people believed and no matter how mad the belief, no matter how many different people lived in the same city side by side believing such dissimilar beliefs, I had seldom witnessed someone admit that there was even a slight possibility that what they believed was not the right belief. Like they were hooked onto a belief feed that would drop them into the abyss if it were severed. Fully unaware that they were standing right in the middle of life.
“Mr. Spelling. Nothing leaves this rooms. I am seducing you and even though I am by law jail bait, no one owns me and I will do with my body what I chose. I stopped being an innocent little girl when some prick cut the little girl out of me.”
I pulled up my skirt and slid my hand down to my lips. My lips were wet.
“Masturbate with me. I want to watch you. It’s one of the simplest of all therapies.”
I could see he was trying to do the right thing. He wanted to tell me to stop but he could not remember how to communicate the idea to me. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and played with my nipples.
“Do you have an erection, Mr. Spelling.”
“Yes, Anny.”
“Put your hand on it. It’s your penis.”
I licked my fingers and slid two inside me and with the moisture rubbed my clitoris. He finally touched his hard on and rubbed it a little. I pulled my little panties away so he could see my wet vagina. I lifted my legs up so he could see my asshole as well. Older men were for some reason much more interested in little girl’s assholes than boys were.
I rubbed a little on my asshole and he finally pulled out a very nice looking penis.
“When was the last time you masturbated for someone, Mr. Spelling.”
He finally smiled but didn’t answer.
“Can you move you chair a little closer so I don’t have to bend my neck to see.”
He rolled his chair away from his desk and looked at me. I wasn’t certain if he was asking for forgiveness or a blow job. I moved my legs down very slowly and rested my feet on his big cock. He put his hand on my legs and held them just tight enough to show that he wanted my touch. He pulled up one of my feet and sucked on my toes. He helped me rub his cock. He held my leg and slowly pumped up against my foot.
About the time Mr. Spelling seemed to be on the brink of losing awareness of who and where he was, I put my feet on the floor and for a second was tempted to run out of the office screaming that he was sexually abusing me. But it was just a thought. Many thoughts travel through my mind. Some are simply rejected. The next thought was to rub my tits on his hard on.
That thought was implemented. I put his hard on between my tits and held them together while he very slowly tit fucked me. Each time his swollen head popped up through my tits, I licked it.
The more I licked it the more I wanted to have it in my mouth. It was simply too pretty not to. So I did. I helped him stand up so I could lick all the way from his balls up to his head. I licked it up and down and around and around his head before taking it into my mouth.
I put my hands on his ass to pull him in so that he understood my hunger.
He held my head. He would have let go if I made him. It was more of a plea. Please let me cum in you mouth. When I had sucked long enough, he did. Then he played with my hair a little. To show affection. I stood up and kissed him and shared his cum with him. Then he put his penis away and tried not to pace the room while I put my clothes on.
“Thank you for your help, Sir. I’ve got to get to class now.”
“I’ve never done that before, Anny.”
“You didn’t do it, Mr. Spelling. I did it to you with sound mind and body.”
“It won’t go out of the room.”
“No. It will stay between us.”
“This has been the most real day I’ve had in many years.”
He said it as much to himself as to me.
I gave him a little kiss.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’ll see if I can get into trouble the odd time. You have a wonderful penis.”
“You have a wonderful day.”
He smiled. I put on a somber face before leaving his office so that the school secretary would think I had been told. Made to understand.
On Wednesday afternoon our science class took a day trip to the Smithsonian to see the bugs. I had seen the bugs with my family. One advantage of being Catholic over the other kinds of Christians, especially the puritan morons of America, was that a few billion years after evolution was underway, one of the Popes, Pius 86 or so in 1950, said it was okay to know about evolution. As if evolution gave a shit what we believed. It was still necessary to give God the credit. The 6 day creation story was a representation of 13 or 14 billion years. Right. Legalize evolution. Stupid creationists. Fucking bloody stupid arrogant lying slugs. They, those stupid creationist will tell you bugs were supposed to impress upon us the wonder of God’s creation. One real megalomaniacal creative fellow, that lonely mad bugger. And to think all those countless species of bugs with the plants and animals on the ark for a year. Apes with automobiles. Too fucking stupid to drop their idiotic fairytales but clever enough to create great weapons to kill one another in large numbers.
Bugs were so obviously a demonstration of form following function, a living thing finding a niche, that they displayed evolution. Made it obvious. Survival of the fittest, or better said, most adapted, bugs. Adapt or die. For those with eyes, look and see.
But no. The blind loved to be lead by murdering tyrants with grand bullshit stories.
The man telling the story of the amazing plethora of bugs was on to one of his favorites, the cockroach. He took a big one out of an aquarium and held it in his hand. It walked over one hand to the next.
“Take it.”
He picked me out. Because he wanted my attention and my reaction. He might have speculated that a little girl would refuse such a frightening challenge. It was just a big fucking bug. Nothing compared to prehistoric bugs. Or ocean bottom feeders. It didn’t have big pinchers like some of the ants and a couple killer looking beetles. I held out my hand for the cockroach that I didn’t really care too much for. The first thought was to drop the bugger on the floor and stomp on it hard enough to crack and flatten its armor. But it was too bloody big. It would be like jumping on a box of vomit.
So I let it run over my hands and contented myself with imagining the explosion of its exoskeleton from my foot slamming down on it. Then it stopped and sniffed around with its antennas as if to say my thoughts were known and I was being watched.
I was used to being watched. Any pretty little girl that looked fuckable was watched. Anyone that wasn’t quite right was watched. And in America everyone had learned to be paranoid and mistrust everyone. Just like Hitler had everyone do before he started his great mad campaign to clean up the human species and take over the world like so many had tried before and after. Just blow up a few things, say someone else from somewhere else did it. And make surveillance the new big business. Piss away trillions of dollars on paranoia while half the world lived in poverty. Keep the masses fearful and stupid. Jesus Christ America. We have been robbed, raped and seriously fuck over by big Daddy.
Well fuck you, you lying pack of snakes from hell. I refuse to be intimidated by asshole authority figures. You pricks with your titles and official hats think you are above me. I know your fucking game. And the rest of the animals know your game and you have taken it too far and you will fall like old fucking humpty fucking dumpty.