Getting ahead may mean unconventional methods, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t fun. I’m as excited about success – and helping the family – as anyone.
My older brothers, twins, were already in their freshmen year at a prestigious military academy and boarding school. James and Andrew had done our family proud, entering on full academic scholarships. They weren’t identical, and they had some different outside interests, but they both appreciated how my parents waited until that year to move into a much larger home and returned every weekend for a month to settle their furniture and items into their new bedrooms. I was just beginning 7th grade in a new school, and they knew it was rough. They had been under the same pressure to do well in everything, so they often texted me jokes and silly stories. They, too, had attended the K-8 school where I had to maintain top grades and participate in extracurricular activities. Afterall, those top schools wanted well-rounded individuals who would someday contribute more to society than being book worms. Our family was under the added burden of distinguishing itself because my father attended elementary and middle school across town, in a less economically advantaged area. My classmates’ parents and grandparents and further back had been on the same privileged track in the same neighborhood. Many people teased my mom; she had also been there only because of her test scores and the school’s willingness to give her parents a break on tuition. Mom and Dad had both worked incredibly hard to make sure we had access to the finer life, but that also entailed my brothers and me doing our parts. In sixth grade my body had only begun puberty, but my mind was ready to consider options. My parents showed me the pamphlet for the beautiful all-girls’ high school from which Mom graduated. The campus looked like part of a medieval castle, with ivy crawling stone walls and huge halls with four-story ceilings for meals and study. All buildings, including the dorms, had been newly renovated with the most current technology. Girls could video chat with their families and friends through their computer screens, and that helped assure students and parents alike that they could avoid home sickness with that support. The page that displayed the uniforms actually cemented by wish to go; I was used to wearing a uniform and liked the structure.
November of that pivotal year of looking at options came other developments that brought attention. I fell in love with volleyball and became a strong athlete as well as a member of the Dean’s List. At the same time, my breasts quickly (and painfully; they were so sensitive) grew, and Mom took me bra shopping. She said men and boys would notice my figure more. I liked that. I sort of caught James and Andrew looking twice at me when they were home for the holidays. The older neighbor next door started calling me “Looker” in a cute way. I knew what sex was, but this was the first time I considered what it could mean overall. I had seen Andrew’s porn magazines, and people did not do it just for reproduction. The K-8 school I attended was all about teaching the Catholic dogma about staying abstinent until marriage, and I knew that was not an idea everyone followed. To add confusion to this, I had a mad crush on the young priest at school. I was one of many who did. Our family wasn’t Catholic (another reason I had to excel and wasn’t invited on some outings), so I made sure I followed all the academic and behavior rules – while thinking of doing the things to him that I had seen in the magazines. Both the men and women in those pictures looked attractive to me. Pictures of massive cocks in tiny pussies made me wet, and I figured out on my own how to make myself cum. It wasn’t something to discuss with other people, even though I often fantasized about being with both.
In seventh grade, my hormones were raging whenever I saw him, Father Patrick. He was so cool, wearing jeans and surfer t-shirts when he wasn’t on campus in a spiritual capacity. He actually surfed, and he took the youth group to the beach on weekends. I wasn’t expected to attend those outings, and I felt a little excluded, but I didn’t complain. One Friday, during math class, a pass to Father Patrick’s office arrived. I had no way of guessing what he wanted. Was I in trouble? Did he know my impure thoughts about him? As a seventh grader desperate to do everything correctly, I trembled as I knocked on his door. When he opened with a friendly smile and invited me in, there was no way to know.
“I’ve received some disheartening news.” He cut quick to the chase. Tears welled in my eyes.
“Father Patrick, I’m so sorry. Whatever I’ve done I won’t do it again. Just please let me make it up to you or the school or whoever and I promise I’ll be good!”
He leaned forward, our knees almost touching, as he had me in a regular chair like his, facing him.
“Oh, no!” He smiled more and took my hands between his. His voice was warm. “You’ve done nothing wrong at all. From what I see of your records, you are exemplary in every way. The problem is the high school you plan to attend. To get in, not being Catholic, they are making it very difficult. You need a letter from an administrator as well as a spiritual authority of this institution that verifies your commitment to your own inner journey. I’m letting you know now so that hopefully we have time for you to prove that and I can write you that letter. Dean Sampers will have no difficulty in writing the letter for your academic and behavior credentials at the end of next year.”
“Inner journey? What? That I’m a spiritually good person? How do I prove that?” I panicked.
“Oh, it’s not the Inquisition, I assure you!” He chuckled a little. “You just have to volunteer weekly hours to the church or school, consistently, in ways that work for you. I will be in charge of your tasks, and I would never have you do anything unsafe or that doesn’t benefit you.” His deep blue eyes were so genuine. He gave me paperwork for my parents to sign. My dad took a deep breath with a smile while my mom hugged me. She said this was the very same type of opportunity she was provided when she was my age. They signed. So began a “journey” I never imagined.
That weekend, my mom bought me more bras, this time with some lace. She bought me matching white panties, also with lace. She told me to trust her. She also prepared me for the possibility of “tasks” for Father Patrick that may be “… well… unconventional.” She asked me if I like Father Patrick. “Sure I do. He’s really cool.”
“Do you think he’s nice looking?”
“I’m not supposed to look at him like that, Mom, but yeah.”
“Please keep an open mind. Not all Church leaders are stuck in a past of celibacy. It’s not sanctioned, but there are some progressive priests who do not follow that antiquated model.” Huh? What was she saying?
After school Monday, I no longer had volleyball practice, so Father Patrick had me help him tidy his office. It was just filing. He told jokes and put me at ease. There was a picture of him surfing a wave. He had been in college, and he was in great shape. I couldn’t understand why someone with that body, such an amazing surfer, would become a priest. Didn’t he give up too much?
No, he didn’t give up too much.
His tasks for me were always overseen by him, and there were no other students or faculty around. They always entailed paperwork, nothing messy or dirty. After a few months of this routine, he asked if we could talk. He wanted to get a “pulse” on the needs of the students. I wasn’t about to divulge anything about the gossip I’d heard. Some students were definitely doing things that were not considered appropriate, but I just pretended it was my own confession. All I did was tell him that I was working hard at being a good person but that sometimes I had impure thoughts and needed help. I was so relieved when he responded kindly.
“I’m here to provide spiritual relief. I’m not going to judge you. We’ve all struggled with being human.”
“Oh, thank you for not telling me I’m going to hell. I’m only twelve, so I don’t want to spend my life trying to at least get to purgatory.”
“Woah! Take it easy. Just how impure are your thoughts?” He seemed amused.
I blushed. I gulped. “Um… they’re really bad. They have you in them. I’m sorry. I’ve tried stopping.”
He grinned. “Tried? You haven’t stopped having impure thoughts about me?”
“Uh… um… I’m so sorry. I’m going to hell.” I was so embarrassed I could cry.
“This whole talk of hell is too punitive. It’s natural to have thoughts. I’m actually flattered.”
I could have wept, I was so surprised and grateful.
“Can you tell me what those thoughts entailed?” He could see me hesitating, terrified.
“Ok. Let’s make it a little easier. Did it include my hands going up your skirt and touching you? Did it have you touching me?” He took my hand and placed it on the bulge in his jeans. I gasped. His hand traveled slowly up my uniform skirt and to my white lacy panties. I knew we weren’t supposed to being doing this, but I wasn’t in any place to mention it. I wanted that letter. As frightened as I was, it was arousing. Wetness soaked through my white cotton undies. All he did was gently run his fingers up and down the outside of my crotch, and he could get the intimate details of my pussy. He hooked his finger inside the lace part and let out a sigh.
“You know, lightening didn’t strike. It’s important that you recognize how you haven’t hurt anyone with your thoughts or even by acting upon them. Did it hurt you when I touched you? If it did, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” As much as I was aware that none of what we had done was “right,” the idea of not having it again spurred me to assert myself.
“No, no, no, please! I…I… don’t want you to not do that again!”
“Will you tell me if you don’t want me to do something?”
“Yes, but I don’t think that will happen.”
I was later than expected getting home for dinner. Both parents greeted me at the door. Mom asked me if everything was ok.
“Yeah. Everything’s ok. I think I understand what you meant by ‘unconventional,’ and I’m being receptive.”
“That’s my girl.”
She smiled at Dad.
After homework and before I went to bed that night, Mom came in to wish me happy dreams and to give me a kiss for restful sleep. “I’m so proud of you, Honey, for helping us get you into the right school. Has it been unpleasant in any way?”
“No, Mom. Father Patrick is very nice.”
“Has he asked you to do anything you can’t?”
“Oh, no. Not at all. You picked the right new panties for me.” I thought of them soaked through, in the laundry hamper.
“Just ask if you need anything. I want you to enjoy it beyond the satisfaction of earning a spot on a roster in a school.”
At that point, Dad entered. He took a deep breath as Mom exited.
“Sweetie, are you sure you’re ok with what’s happening? Mom gave me an idea of what she did for her ‘tasks,’ and I want to make sure you’re ok with it.” He reached over to tuck some stray long hairs behind my ear. I was in a soft cotton pajama set with shorts and a tank that had spaghetti straps. My breasts were straining against the top.
“I’m good, Daddy. Really.”
I don’t know if it was the first time it had happened or if it was the first time I noticed, but Dad had a massive bulge in his pants. I pretended not to see, but I couldn’t get that image out of my mind. I found Dad now entering my impure thoughts….
By the middle of eighth grade, I was doing ‘tasks” with Father Patrick at least three times a week after school. My grades were the top 1% of the school, and I was getting looks from lots of boys. One of the girls on the volleyball team told me I was beautiful and that she’d like to make out with me. We did. More impure thoughts. Father Patrick loved it. The letter was pretty much a sure thing. Sometimes we pretended to dictate the wording as I was sucking his cock and he was putting his tongue up my cunt, lapping up my juices after licking me to orgasm. He was able to put two fingers in me, and over time I widened quite a lot by using a dildo he gave me. It was the size of grown man, so it took awhile before I could insert it all of the way. Before school one day he told me in the hall to see him. He showed me a small butt plug and told me I’d have it in all day tomorrow, so prepare for it. Part of me was revolted; part of me was excited beyond words. We used a condom with the plug, and feeling that softened remaining part of the condom rubbing against my slit drove me insane with desire.
After school I asked him why we didn’t actually have sex. I wanted his cock inside me. I wanted him to cum deep before school and to have him oozing out of my cunt all day. The first time wouldn’t be good, I knew, but I also heard how it would get great.
“There’s nothing I’d like more than to fuck your impure thoughts away,” he told me, “but now has come the time to respect your parents’ wishes.”
“What? What do my parents have to do with this?”
“You probably won’t be in class today. I’ve had you excused.”
At that point my parents walked in. After closing the door, Father Patrick continued. “The elite boarding school you wish to attend has asked how well prepared you are for their curriculum. I had a conversation with one of the head recruiters yesterday. You’re in.”
Mom and Dad were gushing with gratitude. I was ready to cry with relief. At the same time, I didn’t know why I wouldn’t attend classes. He continued. “I’ve been in contact with your wonderful parents about your receptive nature and your wish to rid yourself of impure thoughts, all of them. Including the ones about a different father. Before I can continue to complete any activities with the tasks, don’t you think your earthly father has some say?”
As mortified as I was that Mom and Dad were privy to the “tasks,”, it had occurred to me that Mom had been through her own version. Father Patrick set up the VCR and pushed a VHS tape in. There was a very young Mom, thirteen years old, sucking a priest’s cock (he wasn’t in jeans; he kept his black collared outfit on – kinky, Mom!) while her own dad slammed her from behind. Her breasts were smaller than I had seen before, and she had darker hair back in a ponytail, but she performed so well. No wonder she made it into the boarding school. Another tape showed her just with her father, easing her spread pussy down on to his throbbing cock as she straddled him on patio furniture. She pumped up and down on him, and he lifted her on to the patio table to finish her. Close up of cum oozing out of her. Another shot of her in white lacy tights with garter belt and bustier, on the edge of a stuffed chair and legs out ready. Her dad on his knees, licking her pussy. He inserts a dildo into her pussy. When she turns over, stomach on the chair, he uses one hand to keep the dildo in her. He squeezes a bottle of lube down her crack. He puts a condom on and plunges into her ass. She screams. It’s her first time with anal penetration. Next video, the priest is sitting on the chair. She’s nude. She straddles him and slides her pussy down his throbbing cock. She leans into him as her dad comes up and fucks her in the behind. Wow. Mom was good.
By now I was ready to spend time with my dad. I felt so free of the burden of carrying my sinful thoughts about him. I just wanted him to be my first, like Mom did with her own father. Then we could see where that took us with Father Patrick. I obviously had my mom’s consent and good wishes. We were getting me on the Pill. Before that, though, Dad and I drove to a cabin that his friend at work offered. There, Dad and I became acquainted with every part of each other. We brought towels for the mess, as we knew there would be plenty of it. The dildo had done its job. We fucked like animals. We had porn star sex. We made passionate love. I missed the next day of school, too.
Well Rounded Part 2 will continue this…
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