Angela's Naughty Secret
[aka Young Angela's Itch']
by Mark Conroy


Chapter 1 

It was already two-thirty, and twelve-year-old Angela was restless. But Mary 
Carruthers, Angela's buxom, pink skinned, 36-year-old mother, had ordered 
her to stay in the house until after Father Edmund paid his social visit. 
After that, Angela was at liberty to go out and play with Betsy, who lived 
in the corner bungalow on the other side of the street. Worst of all, to 
Angela, instead of letting her wear her vacation outfit of Bermuda shorts, 
bobbysocks, loafers and short-sleeved white blouse, her mother had insisted 
that she honor Father Edmund's visit by presenting herself the way a 
well-bred young lady should be - and that meant a dress and slip and her 
nicest undies. 

Angela had looked wonderingly at her mother over the luncheon table when her 
mother had made that remark about pretty undies, and her blonde mother had 
frowned and snapped, "Now you just do what I tell you to, young lady, 
because even at twelve you're not too big to spank, and don't you forget it 
for a minute!" 

Angela had turned fiery red at this humiliating comment. It recalled for her 
some distressing moments when she had been, in her own opinion, a very 
little girl of nine or ten, which was the last time her mother had actually 
carried out that mortifying threat. She fancied herself grown up now. After 
all, she was old enough to have what her mother called "the curse", and 
that, too, was terribly embarrassing. And also - though her mother didn't 
suspect it - lovely Angela's awareness of that secret and shameful part of 
her enticing young body, thanks to the inevitable monthly period, had led 
her to experiment with herself ... especially at night when she was troubled 
with strange but exciting tickling sensations, to relieve which she had 
discovered that the persistent rubbing of her own soft little forefinger 
brought about even more thrilling feelings. These, she vaguely realized, 
were associated with boys. Of course, her mother had strictly forbidden her 
to accept any dates even to a movie or even to let a boy carry her books 
home from school. 

Betsy, however, was a year older and had actually been out with boys. But 
then, Betsy's situation was a lot different from hers because her girl 
friend's parents had separated and then remarried, leaving Betsy under the 
very lax supervision of an elderly aunt. 

As she waited in her bedroom for Father Edmund to come so that she could pay 
her respects and then hurry across the street, Angela sighed wistfully, put 
a hand to her dimpled chin and wished she were at least as old as her best 
friend and knew as much about ... important things ... as Betsy seemed to 
know. 

In her pretty blue cotton dress with its modestly cut skirt down to her 
knees and front decorously rising to her slim throat, Angela indeed seemed 
older than her twelve years. She was five feet four inches in height, with 
charmingly saucy features. Her face was oval, her cheeks high-set, her nose 
a dainty snub with sensuously thin, dilating wings, and her small but very 
ripe mouth was sensual and petulant, the lower lip fuller than its very 
kissable twin. Her large, widely spaced gray-green eyes and her warm olive 
skin enhanced her mouthwatering loveliness, but the dress, modest though it 
was, emphasized the ripening tastiness of her virginal charms. Though Angela 
had put on a white nylon bra and panty set to please her mother's mystifying 
order, the bra did not entirely check the jut of two firm, widely spaced 
pear-shaped titties. She had put on charcoal-brown nylons, rolled at 
mid-thigh over elastic garters and the gauzy sheaths revealed trim ankles, 
sleek, sinuous high-set calves, while the skirt hinted at long shapely 
thighs and a jouncy oval-shaped behind. 

Her hair was glossy black and set with a fringe of tiny little curls all 
along the top of her high forehead. The rest was combed straight back and 
flowed down just past her shoulder blades. Impatient with waiting, Angela 
abruptly rose from her chair, went over to the little boudoir table, took up 
a comb and began to comb out her hair in back. Just then, the doorbell rang. 
Angela's eyes widened, she dropped the comb, and a faint blush suffused her 
cheeks. It was Father Edmund at last, thank goodness! Soon she could go over 
to Betsy's and have fun. Maybe Betsy would tell her more about the dates 
she'd had. Angela had begged her friend to tell her what it was like to be 
kissed and felt by a boy, but Betsy had only giggled and hinted, 
mysteriously, "Maybe I will - some day when you're ready to find out for 
yourself, Angie!" 

With a last appraising glance at herself in the mirror, Angela opened her 
bedroom door and went out to the living room to appear in her dutiful role 
of respectful young Catholic daughter. Her mother was already opening the 
front door, and Angela gasped with surprise. Her mother was wearing a black 
satin dress cut almost to the middle of her back and, in front, low enough 
to show off the upper curves of two succulent, firm, round closely spaced 
titties. 

It was Betsy who had taught Angela the only really naughty word she knew: 
titties. Just a few weeks ago, poking her forefinger at Angela's budding 
young bosom, Betsy had cattily remarked, "Gosh, Angie honey, you're sure 
getting a perky pair of titties. Boy, will the guys ever go for you when 
they get you out on a date!" 

Not only that, her mother was wearing fresh lipstick and she smelled of 
perfume. 

My goodness, all that fuss just to say hello to Father Edmund! Angela 
thought to herself. 

And then she blushed again, for Father Edmund had said something to her 
mother in a low voice and was coming towards her with a smile, holding out 
his hand. 

"Why, it's little Angela! My gracious, what a lovely young woman you are 
turning out to be, my child!" 

Somewhat awkwardly, Angela extended her soft little hand, flushing and 
modestly lowering her eyes as she did so. Her mother hovered protectively 
near and purred, "What a lovely compliment, Angela! Let me hear you thank 
Father Edmund properly, young lady!" 

The black haired teenager shivered. If the truth be known, she had met 
Father Edmund several times before, not only in the confessional but also 
standing outside the chapel after Sunday school. Even in the privacy of the 
confessional box, she had always recognized his strong, authoritative, manly 
voice. And at times at night, since she had passed out of puberty and was 
awakening, had had strange and very naughty dreams in which he figured. One 
of them she remembered even now as his sinewy strong fingers seemed to keep 
hold of her hand more than was necessary for a mere call on a parishioner. 

She had dreamed she was walking in the woods on a hot summer day, wearing 
only a lace trimmed white slip which she had sneaked out of her mother's 
dresser drawer - that of course had to be a dream, for lovely Angela had 
been brought up never to steal or tell a lie - and someone had called to her 
out of a clump of bushes. When she had turned, Father Edmund in his black 
priest's robe had come out and taken her by the hand and led her back into 
the bushes and then scolded her for going outdoors so scantily dressed and 
said that what she needed was a good, sound spanking ... and in the dream, 
she had been bent forward over one knee and her firm saucy behind slapped a 
dozen times. At that point, the dream was broken off, and Angela had awaked 
to find her nightie suspiciously wet between her still trembling, supple 
young thighs ... 

"T-thank y-you, F-Father," she quavered now, and glanced up at him. He 
smiled and his dark-brown eyes seemed to be glowing. 

Finally he released her hand. 

"Ah, you'll be a beautiful young woman before much longer, my dear," he 
said. Then, turning to her mother, "Mrs. Carruthers, are you free now to 
discuss that church social we talked about earlier this week?" 

"Oh, yes, Father! Angela, if you like, why don't you go play with your 
friend Betsy?" 

Her mother used an affectionate tone of voice which, of late, Angela had 
seldom heard. 

"All - all right, Mother, if you're sure it's all right?" she said. "But 
oughtn't I to change?" 

Mary Carruthers impatiently shook her head. 

"No, of course not! You're fine the way you are. Have a good time, and you 
needn't be back till suppertime." 

"If - if you say so, Mother. Well, then - it - it was nice to meet you 
again, Father Edmund." 

Angela made him a little curtsey, and was rewarded by his soft pleased 
chuckle, and a soft familiar chuck under the chin. 

"Likewise, Angela. I'll see you at Sunday school, shan't I?" 

"Y - yes, Father. Well - goodbye now." She was blushing from his attentions, 
though the gesture of his finger was one bestowed on a little girl rather 
than a grownup young lady. "I'll just get something from my room I want to 
show to Betsy, Mother." 

"All right, dear. Come along, Father." 

Angela's mother took Father Edmund by the arm and led him down the hallway. 
Angela's eyes widened. Though she knew both her parents to be faithful 
churchgoers, she couldn't understand her mother's having dressed and made up 
to receive the priest and still less her commandeering him this aggressive 
way. With a shrug of mystification, she went back to her room to get the 
movie magazine which had an article about Richard Burton which Betsy had 
said she wanted to read. 

Down the hall, she heard her mother's door close and then a noise which 
sounded like a key turning in the lock. That was very strange. Holding her 
breath, Angela tiptoed to her closet and heard the murmur of voices. On the 
wall at her left, a large chunk of plaster had become dislodged; Angela had 
pushed it back into place. But now her curiosity led her to glance at it and 
remember that by drawing it out, she could peer directly into her mother's 
bedroom. 

But that would be a sinful thing to do, Angela knew. She shook her head as 
if telling herself it was unthinkable. The murmur of voices was continuing. 
And then suddenly, she heard what sounded suspiciously like a slap, then 
another, and still another, followed by a giggle, and then a little flurried 
cry. 

"My gracious, whatever can be going on?" Angela murmured to herself, moving 
closer to the wall to try to make out what was being said and done. 

Again the sound of slaps came to her and loud gasps, then Father Edmund's 
voice. Mother had said they were going to talk about a church social. But it 
certainly sounded strange, if that was what it was. 

Once again, there was the sound of slaps and a soft groan. Angela could 
stand it no longer. Very carefully, she put her fingernails to the jagged 
chunk of plaster and slowly lifted it out. Still clutching it in her left 
hand she bent slightly to stare into the improvised peephole. 

Her mouth gaped and her eyes widened in disbelief. For there was her mother, 
wearing only a black nylon slip, gauzy black nylon hose and pumps, crouching 
on all fours with her head bowed towards the head of the bed. And the slip 
had been furled back up beyond her mother's waist, displaying the 
carnation-sheened spacious round cheeks of her mother's naked behind ... on 
which quite a few bright red splotches were imprinted. 

Father Edmund knelt behind Angela's mother engaged in trussing up his black 
cossack, then fumbling with himself in front. Then, his right hand stroking 
the squirming, upreared, outthrust bare posterior, he muttered hoarsely, 
"Spread your legs more than that, my daughter, so the good work can be done. 
Is your big bottom warm enough now to receive the holy oil?" 

And from Angela's mother, in a muffled, quavery voice, "Ohh, yes, yes, dear 
Father, it's awfully nice and warm, do give it to me now." 

"I shall, my daughter. Steady yourself," was the priest's answer. 

Angela, her eyes wide as saucers, had unconsciously slid her right hand 
under her blue cotton skirt and the little white petticoat beneath. Her 
forefinger had begun to rub against the exquisite plump mound at the crotch 
of her thin panties. The soft virginal lips of her vulva twitched and 
quivered and as she watched her mother obediently spread her knees still 
farther apart until the groove between the plump, succulent bottom-globes 
was lasciviously distended. Angela, in her turn, straddled her long legs to 
make her own sensitive and now moistening young quim even more accessible. 

She hardly dared to breathe as Father Edmund, completing his palpation of 
her mother's indecently naked behind - during all of which time Mary 
Carruthers wriggled and weaved her buttocks in the most indecent manner 
imaginable - now commanded in a husky voice, "My daughter, to show total 
obedience, I wish you to prepare yourself for what you are about to 
receive!" 

"Ohh, y-yes, Father!" Mary Carruthers gasped. 

Without leaving her kneeling pose and burying her congested face in the 
pillow, she reached back, grasped hold of the inner edges of both buttocks 
and drew them as far apart as she could uttering a sobbing little "Ahh !" as 
she did so. 

Angela's eyes were fixed on the puckering crinkly rosette of her mother's 
anus, and her right forefinger began to rub at a faster cadence now as she 
felt warm waves of sensual excitement, even stronger than any she had ever 
known in the privacy of her own virgin bed alone at night, now seethe 
through her. 

"Very good, my daughter. And now, prepare yourself to submit in an act of 
faith," Father directed as he moved behind her ... but not till Angela had 
seen for the first time in her rapidly maturing twelve years the stiff, 
angrily reddened head of his savagely rampant penis and the dark blue veins 
standing out against the taut skin of the incredibly thick and long shaft. 

She had to clench her lips to keep from squealing out her shocked 
incredulity lest she betray to them that she was an unbidden witness of this 
incredible act. 

Father Edmund's position blocked Angela's view so that she could not see the 
actual entry of his formidable penis. But she was immediately edified by 
hearing her mother call out in a sobbing groan, "Ohhh, ahhh. Father, please 
take it easy. My little bumhole's too small for your big cock! Ohh, please 
be gentle there!" 

"Courage, my daughter, bigger things have come out than are going in," 
Angela heard him chuckle, and then there came a grunt as she saw him push 
forward. 

His right hand seemed to press down on her mother's bare right hip, but his 
left was concealed from Angela's view. Once again, it was her mother who 
furnished her aghast virgin daughter with the detailed explanation of what 
was taking place. To be sure, Angela till this moment had never before heard 
some of the terms her mother employed in that explanation. 

"Ahh - ohhh, Father, that's so good when you rub my button too - ahh, ohh, 
it stretches my little bumhole so - ahh, not too hard till it's all inside, 
please, F-Father dear!" 

"Careful, my daughter, or I shall have to chastise your naughty posterior 
for showing such wantonness. This is penance I am exacting from you and the 
thought of your enjoyment is farthest from my mind ... now then, get ready, 
I'm going to put it all into you so that you can feel the full dose of holy 
oil directly!" 

Angela's finger feverishly worked this way and that against the moist crotch 
of her little panties. Her young breasts rose and fell erratically and she 
had to make a conscious effort to hold onto the chunk of dislodged plaster 
in her left hand lest she drop it and warn the two preoccupied adults in the 
room beyond that she was committing a mortal sin by spying on them. But the 
torturing waves of tickling hot, girlish ardor threatened to destroy her own 
self-control, and it was fortunate for her that her mother now arched and 
writhed, having felt the full brunt of Father Edmund's penis to the very 
hilt, and uttered a loud sobbing wail. 

"Ahhhhhhhrr, oh Father, you're tearing me to pieces there, oh do let me a 
minute - oooooooh, my finger feels so good there, do it faster, make me 
come!" 

"Not till you have had your full penance, my sinful daughter," the priest 
thickly responded. "Bow when I draw back. Do you thrust your impudent bottom 
back to me - ahh, that's right, continue thus - soon you shall have your 
absolution!" 

Angela whimpered as she saw her mother's widely straddled feet scuff the 
rumpled bed till both pumps slid off and her stockinged toes curled and 
twisted and wriggled this way and that. Her eyes unwaveringly fixed on the 
scene. She saw Father Edmund's hips execute a forward-backward maneuver, and 
at once heard her mother's raucous "Ahh, ohh, it's so good. Oh, yes, punish 
me, Father, punish me good!" 

"Yes, yes, my daughter!" His voice was excited. "Get ready, it will be very 
soon - perhaps even sooner than - yes, ahh - now, you wicked sinful bitch, 
buck your gorgeous big red behind as much as you can. Here it comes, Mary 
girl - ahhhhhh!" 

With a bellow, he crammed violently forward and Mary Carruthers, swaying on 
her buckling knees, nonetheless managed to hold her ground as she thrust 
herself sacrificially back to his rutting charge. Then Angela heard her 
mother's high-pitched, prolonged scream of ecstasy. 

"Eeeeeeyahhrr - ouu - I can feel yon gush into me there, Father - ahhhh, 
your finger, oh work it good now, I need it so - ahh yes, yes I'm coming too 
- oh now, now, Father, fuck my button hard as you can - yes - 
aiiiionuuahhhh!" 

And as this last prolonged wail died away, Mary Carruthers seemed to 
collapse flat on the bed, sprawled face down, the priest moving forward to 
top her and cover her, his hips working convulsively. At almost the same 
moment, Angela was shaken by the most volcanic spasm her virgin core had 
ever known, and she had to lean her forehead against the wall and close her 
eyes and grind her teeth to keep from crying out her own frantic release... 

After a long moment, the teenaged brunette at last steadied herself, 
smoothed her rumpled skirt and petticoat back into place, then turned to the 
table where she kept her schoolbooks, retrieved the movie magazine, and 
tiptoed to her door and cautiously opened it. With a frightened gasp, 
remembering that she hadn't replaced the chunk of plaster, she ran back to 
the closet and fitted it back into place, her heart pounding wildly, her 
face flushed and her eyes humid from what she had seen - and done. The 
latter was a sin she would have to confess this weekend, she knew. 

Oh my goodness, she thought to herself, I don't dare tell the priest who 
hears my confession what made me do it, though, oh dear! 

Once again she opened her door and listened. There wasn't a sound. Hastily, 
then, she hurried to the front door and let herself out, her mind reeling 
with the secret revelation that had not been meant for her to witness. She 
couldn't even dare tell Betsy about it, she knew! 

 Chapter 2 

Angela glanced nervously back at her house as she crossed the street towards 
the corner bungalow where Betsy lived, as if expecting at any moment to hear 
her mother angrily call her back to punish her for spying on them. The 
enormity of what Angela had seen, much of which she did not fully 
understand, was just now beginning to permeate her unsophisticated young 
mind. Already she was wrestling with the dilemma of whether to seek the 
advice of her best friend or to try to forget what she had witnessed. And if 
she did tell Betsy, it would be sure to find its way from her gregarious and 
much more knowledgeable friend to others, which would mean shameful disgrace 
for both her mother and the priest. 

Angela had just about made up her mind to try to get an answer from Betsy 
without revealing the identity of the two persons whom she had seen 
performing an inexplicable but surely forbidden act - because, after all, 
Mother was married, and that meant only Daddy had the right to touch and 
expose her person and kiss her and do ... other things ... to her - when 
Angela suddenly remembered that Betsy's Aunt Hazel had gone to visit an 
ailing and very close friend in a nursing home in Evanston and would spend 
Sunday with her too. That meant Betsy would be all alone, so she wouldn't 
have to ring the bell. She could go around to the back and let herself in 
the kitchen, where Betsy spent a lot of time drinking Cokes and doing her 
homework on the linoleum-covered table. 

Maybe if Daddy were home tonight and Mother went out, she could fish around 
to find out why two grown-up people would go into a bedroom and the man 
would spank the woman's bare bottom and then push himself up against her in 
that funny way Father Edmund had done to Mother. It reminded Angela, 
suddenly and scandalously - and her cheeks flamed at the recollection - of 
the time, over a year ago, when she had seen two dogs fixed together on a 
vacant lot and some coarse man had shouted, "Look at that dog giving it to 
his bitch. I wish I could give it to my broad that way!" and some people had 
gasped and others had laughed. 

Angela took a deep breath, shook her head till her curls danced on her 
shoulders, then tried the knob of the kitchen door. It was open - Betsy 
never locked it, except at night - and she went in. She was about to call 
out for her chum when she suddenly heard a giggle which she recognized as 
Betsy's. It was coming from her friend's bedroom, which was nearer the back 
of the bungalow than Aunt Hazel's. Once again she opened her mouth to call 
out and announce her presence, when there was another giggle, followed by a 
hoarse male chuckle. 

Angela stopped dead in her tracks, her gray-green eyes widening with 
surprise. Maybe it was one of Betsy's boyfriends - her chum was forever 
boasting about how many fellows were always asking her for dates! 

The bedroom door was slightly open, she could see it from where she stood 
just inside the butler's pantry. Then she heard Betsy gasp out, "Oooh, 
that's awful nice, do it some more!" 

Wonderingly, Angela tiptoed down the carpeted hall and, holding her breath, 
placed herself to the left of the slightly open door, since she couldn't see 
from the way she was coming along the hall. And then she clapped a hand over 
her mouth and swayed with disbelief. It was even more shocking than what she 
had witnessed from her closet! 

Betsy lay on her left side so that she was facing in Angela's direction. Her 
coppery-red hair, cut helmet style, was tumbled and covered one eye. About 
an inch and a half shorter than Angela, Betsy's figure was considerably 
riper. She had two high-percher, insolently round breasts with wide 
brownish-coral aurolae which centered pert, well-developed nipples, plump 
round hips and buttocks, and ripening, almost womanly thighs, with a 
flawlessly smooth, satiny pale-creamy skin with rosy flecks. Her complexion 
was that of a true redhead. Her face was heart-shaped, her mouth was large 
and sensually full. Betsy's nose was Grecian with widely flaring wings, her 
eyes were dark-brown and seemed larger because of very short but thick 
lashes and thin pencilled brows. 

Betsy was wearing her harlequin glasses and a tight red wool sweater which 
came down only to her waist - and not a stitch more. Her big firm breasts 
were shaped out by the sweater as if it were a second skin, and they swelled 
exuberantly as she giggled again and squirmed closer to the stark naked man 
whom Angela observed wore dark blue cotton socks and looked more naked that 
way than if he had had absolutely nothing on. 

Betsy's left hand was between their bodies as he lay on his left side facing 
her, and it was slowly fondling a big red, dark-veined thing between his 
lean hairy legs. 

One of his big hands was squeezing one of Betsy's breasts through the 
sweater, and the other hand was stroking Betsy between her bare legs. 

As Angela leaned forward to watch, feeling that agonizingly sweet tickling 
between her long legs, just as she had done back in the closet, his 
forefinger moved up to the very thickly haired plump mound between Betsy's 
legs and began to tickle her. 

Their mouths were fused together. Angela could hear slushing sounds. 
Squinting with all her might, she made out that Betsy's cheek was bulging, 
and so was the man's. He had closely cut dark-brown hair, almost a crew cut. 

Angela's hand pressed hard against her panting, gaping mouth. It wasn't a 
boy from school with Betsy, it was an honest-to-goodness full-grown man. She 
couldn't see his face, since his back was turned to her. He had lean 
buttocks and they were tightening with funny little spasms, and the muscles 
in his thighs were jerking too. 

"Mmm, oh my, Freddie honey, that's just lovely. Here, wait, lemme get your 
big cockie ready for my itchy little quimmy !" she heard Betsy giggle. "Roll 
over on your back. That's a good boy!" 

With this, she squirmed to her knees, and the man obligingly turned over 
onto his back, spreading his legs. In the moment before the half-nude 
redhaired older girl bowed her head down to him, putting her soft hands on 
his hairy thighs, Angela nearly fainted. 

For it was her own father lying there on Betsy's bed and pillowing his head 
on his folded arms, and that big hard red thing with a tip that looked like 
a spear point sticking right up there in the air and everything. 

"Mmm, isn't he a great big naughty boy!" she heard Betsy squeal delightedly, 
saw her chum's soft fingers ticklingly glide over her father's knees and 
thighs till finally they were moving very slowly and tantalizingly over the 
gnarled, hairy, bulging sacks at the base of that terribly thick, swollen 
upright shaft. "Want me to lick him a little first before I suck him, Fred 
lover?" 

"Go right ahead, baby!" Angela's father panted, exhaling a sigh of 
anticipation and spreading his legs even farther apart than ever. 

Betsy obligingly vent way down, supporting herself by gripping the sides of 
Angela's father's hips, and Angela had to press her hand furiously tight 
over her mouth to suppress the shocked cry of disbelief when she saw what 
her best girlfriend was doing. Besides, the way Betsy was kneeling and 
crouching way down low, her bottom tilted up and there was something 
indecently shameful about the jutting, glossy ivory cheeks, widened so that 
Angela couldn't help seeing the amber-shadowy crease between the cheeks as 
well as the dainty crinkly rosette of Betsy's bottomhole and the tufts of 
dark-red hair - extremely thick for a girl Betsy's age - which framed the 
fleshy pink lips of her best friend's pee-place. 

She saw Betsy's pert pink tongue stick out as far as it could and begin to 
rasp slyly over her father's testicles. His face was as red as the throbbing 
shaft rising up ferociously between his straddled hairy thighs, and he 
gasped and groaned as Betsy performed her artful ministrations. 

"Ahhh - you sweet little redhaired bitch, you're talented enough to be the 
star of a hundred-dollar cathouse !" 

"Why, Fred honey - lover," the teenager cooed, glancing provocatively up at 
him, "what a ducky compliment! Mmm, come to think of it, I wouldn't mind - 
boy, could I ever earn more dough than the skimpy allowance old Aunt Hazel 
dishes out to me every week!" 

"Just work, don't talk, baby. I'll see that you get more than she gives 
you," Angela's father hoarsely chuckled with another sigh of pleasure as he 
closed his eyes again and reclined like a sultan in his harem awaiting the 
Frenching by his beautiful young red-haired Caucasian slave girl. 

Angela's face was scarlet and her eyes were misty, but she was hypnotized 
where she stood, edging herself more to the left so that while hiding as 
much of herself as she could to prevent being detected, she could get a 
better angle of vision for this absolutely unbelievable scene. 

Questions poured through her shocked mind - how was it Daddy wasn't at his 
advertising agency? How was it he knew Betsy, let alone well enough for the 
shameless creature to do such indecent, forbidden things to him? It was so 
mystifying that Angela was in a frantic quandry, her virgin mind already 
tittillated at what she had observed between her mother and Father Edmund. 
To whom could she turn for help and advice? How could she ever dare to be on 
such innocently friendly terms with Betsy after a thing like this? Oh, it 
was just - just awful! 

Her girlfriend nodded, giggled, then bowed her head way down again and 
resumed her tongue-adoration of Angela's daddy's big hairy balls ... that 
was the only word innocent black-haired Angela could find to describe those 
twitching, crinkly-skinned, tight-stretched and contracting spheres at the 
very base of that huge red thing. She supposed that was his peepee stick. 
She had never before seen a male organ in full carnal erection ... for, 
after all, Father Edmund's priapic might had been virtually hidden from her 
when he had knelt with his back to her right up against her mother. Now, 
however, because of Daddy's lying on his back with his legs spread and 
shameless Betsy bowing down before him, Angela had an unimpaired view of his 
physical vigor. 

Betsy's tongue again emerged, attacking the other testicle, sweeping up it 
along the hard scrotum-root, then rasping the throbbing shaft whose tight 
skin made the dark veins stand out like writhing snakes. 

Her friend's dainty tongue furled over the smooth, taut, velvety point of 
Angela's daddy's bulging shaft. Angela shivered and once again felt her soft 
secret spot twitching and pulsating with uncontrollable sensations even more 
powerful than the ones she had experienced while watching Father Edmund and 
Mother from the closet peephole. And so once again, almost unthinkingly, 
while keeping one hand clamped against her mouth, she delved the other under 
skirt and petticoat to find the itching, tantalizingly twitching cleft of 
her maiden vulva and began to tickle it through the thin clinging panties. 
Her thighs shook as the first new hot, waves of naughty girlish onanism 
began to tingle through her, and she could even feel her dainty nipples 
stiffening with every quickened breath she took. 

Betsy's tongue was going down the other side of her daddy's thing, scraping 
along the narrow deep groove which set off the spearpoint of the head from 
the big hard gnarled shaft itself, and following a descent back to his 
balls. Angela's daddy began to groan and squirm and arch himself up. Finally 
he gasped, "Get ready, baby, but I'd rather have it all the way inside your 
sweet tight little cunt!" 

Angela repeated the word falteringly inside her mind, baffled for the 
moment. But the definition was immediately forthcoming, for, with a 
complaisant giggle and nod, her half nude red-haired girlfriend 
straightened, then moved forward on her bare knees as her daddy at once 
clenched his legs together. Angela saw her chum reach down and give Daddy's 
big hard thing a loving little squeeze, and, holding onto the tip like that, 
use her other hand to pry open her pee-hole and slowly sink down till what 
she was holding was lodged just inside the fleshy pink rims of her cleft! 

Angela's moaning gasp was nearly audible as she observed this. Her heart was 
pounding wildly for fear they might have heard. But her fears were 
groundless. Daddy was arching himself up off the bed to press deeper into 
Betsy's hairy slit, and her girlfriend was still holding onto his thing - 
except now she had gripped it at the middle of the shaft with thumb and 
forefinger. Tilting back her head, her face flushed, eyes wide and 
sparkling, Betsy gasped out, "Ooooh, Fred, it's so good, it rubs so nice 
inside my pussy!" 

P-pussy? C-cunt? 

Was that what they called the place Angela was now frantically rubbing while 
her resilient buttocks quaked and jerked spasmodically under the lascivious 
spell of sensual wakening? 

As Angela watched incredulously, she saw the half-naked redhead sink down 
slowly over her father until the enormous, thick shaft had entirely 
disappeared between Betsy's bare, pale cream legs. The redhead's lush 
buttocks tightened, then yawned, allowing Angela to glimpse again the 
mysterious shadowy groove between the palpitating cheeks. Now, her palms 
pressed down on the bed on either side of Angela's groaning father, Betsy 
supported herself, immobile for the moment, her head tilted back, her eyes 
humid and wide and fixed on the ceiling as her firm ripe breasts heaved 
erratically against the tight, molding sweater. 

"Ooooooh, don't go off yet, Fred honey," she huskily begged. "It's so darn 
nice, I can feel it beating just like your heart right inside my pussy. 
Can't you?" 

"Yeah - Betsy, oh you sweet, sexy, randy little bitch you, spin it out and 
don't make me come yet, or I'll paddle your cute bare ass!" 

Angela had all she could do to stifle the horrified yet excited exclamation 
that rushed to her trembling lips. By now, too, her finger had dug the thin 
material of her moist panties deep into her virgin slit and her dainty 
little clitoris was throbbing and stiffening to proclaim her agitated 
tumescent state. 

She saw her father reach up his hands and squeeze Betsy's breasts - her 
t-titties, Angela said the word inside her and felt dreadfully naughty - and 
then he panted, "Take that sweater off, honey. I want to see every bit of 
you bare-ass naked, Betsy baby!" 

"Sure, Fred! Mmm, I love being that way with you. You know how to drive a 
girl up the wall," Betsy panted as she wriggled and tugged the sweater off. 

"Don't you let my cock slip out of its nice warm tight little nest, or 
else," he warned with a lewd chuckle. 

"Oooh, you scare me. Would you spank my fanny if I did, Fred honey?" the 
ripe-curved naked red-head squealed in mock-alarm. 

"Try it and see, baby," he chuckled thickly, again reaching up to clutch the 
jutting rounds of her sumptuous young velvety-smooth breasts, rubbing the 
nipples with his thumbpads while Betsy cooed with sensual pleasure as a cat 
might purr at being stroked. 

She wriggled lasciviously, pretending to let his bulging ramrod slip out of 
her quaking, tightening sheath but without actually doing so. 

Angela closed her eyes, nearly fainting with the assault on her virginal 
senses of all these tumultuous new sights and lewd displays. She had 
unwittingly entered a strange, exciting but also frightening new world 
without sufficient advance preparation - baffled as to whom to turn to for 
help and advice, her mind still staggered by discovering her father naked in 
bed with her best friend who was only a year older than she was. 

The lovely brunette could only express her emotions by speeding the 
frictioning rub of her forefinger ... and when the sudden violent, hot 
bubbling wave of pussy-passion seethed through the lips of her twitching 
maiden love-cleft, her only thought was to move away and press herself 
forward against the wall, both hands clapped over her mouth to hold back the 
slightest sound. Her body shook and wavered and she felt a wet, seeping 
moisture stickly adhere to the stuff of her panties' crotch up against the 
place she had just been rubbing. Tears came to her eyes as she realized she 
had committed yet another motal sin ... she would have too much to confess, 
and her father confessor was sure to set lots of awful penances for her! 

"That's it, Betsy honey. Mmm, you're terrific. Now get down over me and 
let's fuck!" she suddenly heard her father's voice call out. 

Blinking her eyes to clear their mistiness, Angela hastened to peek through 
the convenient opening and saw Betsy stretch out over her father while his 
arms locked round her shoulders and his mouth glued to hers in a long 
sucking, wet kiss. 

It was like a movie on a three-dimensional screen, unfolding frame by frame, 
unrehearsed and yet powerfully gut-real. Angela swayed. 

Her finger never left the stickied, pulsating nook which the tight little 
panties shaped out like a soft ripening fig, her other hand constantly 
clamped over her mouth to make sure she did not betray her presence. As each 
new scene, each nuance of the flesh-rutting cohesion between her father and 
her best girlfriend continued, she felt gradually more powerful stimulations 
take hold of her, making her dainty little nipples expand. The flesh of her 
inner thighs crawled and shivered as if cold and then hot air from a 
hairdryer was being sprayed against her. She felt the pulpy coral-pink lips 
of her feverishly tickling girl-core twitch and spasm ... and even felt, 
consciously for the first time in her rapidly maturing twelve years, the 
hardening of the dainty button of her virgin clitoris. 

Halfway through this new bout of lust, her father had hoarsely ordered, 
"That's enough of your playing the man, you sweet little red-haired bitch. 
Now you just roll on your back and get ready for a good hot fuck, Betsy!" 

Angela had watched, bemused and entranced, as Betsy, making a pouting little 
face at him, had slowly wriggled off the massive, angrily swollen, 
dark-reddened harpoon of her father's bulging penis. Then the redhead had, 
catlike, rolled onto her back, grabbed her dimpled knees and pulled them 
back hard and tight up against her juicy round creamy breasts, masking them 
as she thus gaped the pink grotto of her vulva and even distended the saucy 
rosette of her anus. 

"Hurry," Betsy had moaned, wriggling her buttocks invitingly. "I'm so close 
and you had to go and make me pull off - now you just finish what you 
started in my pussy, Fred lover!" 

For Angela, the most shattering sight of all was to watch her father kneel 
and grab hold of Betsy's lower thighs and, with a single driving lunge, 
impale her waiting, open peehole with his angrily throbbing spear, driving 
it in to the very hilt. Then, in a rapid series of in-and-out thrustings and 
drawing outs, Angela's father shouted out his ecstasy as he gushed himself 
inside her friend's p-pussy ... making Betsy kick her legs madly in the air 
and squeal shrilly as she, too, joined her mature lover in release... 

 Chapter 3 

Angela tiptoed back to the kitchen and out of the house, and for a long 
moment leaned against the side wall, closing her eyes and shivering as she 
tried to pretend that what she had seen and heard must certainly have been a 
dream. But the trembling of her inner thighs and the soft moist weakness 
which attacked her tenderest, most intimate virgin nook told her that it had 
not been a dream. And she was stricken by the troubling knowledge that when 
she went to confess, she would have to admit having played with herself ... 
not once, but twice. 

Feverishly, even then she began to make up the story she would tell the 
listening, unknown priest; she must be sure not to mention Betsy or her 
father and mother and surely not Father Edmund. 

Still dazed by the incredible discovery that her father not only knew Betsy 
but had been naked and done sinful things with her best chum, Angela at last 
retraced her steps back home. When she entered the house, she breathed a 
secret sigh of relief to find her mother, dressed this time in a glossy blue 
housecoat and sandals, busy running the vacuum cleaner. That had to mean 
that Father Edmund had left. 

Stopping the appliance, Mary Carruthers demanded, "Are you back from seeing 
Betsy already, Angela?" 

"Y-yes, M-Mother. She-she wasn't home, so-so I went for a walk, and I ran 
into Annie and we talked for a while," the glib lie came quickly to her, but 
after she had said it, Angela despondently knew this would be still another 
sin to have to unburden herself of at the confessional. 

However, her opulent blonde mother seemed to accept it. 

"Oh, that's fine. Well, you may as well take off your best dress and maybe 
clean up your room. I'll be making supper in about an hour, and your father 
ought to be home by then." 

"All right, Mother." 

"That's a good girl. You know; Father Edmund had a lot of nice things to say 
about you this afternoon, Angela. You just keep doing what your parents tell 
you, and you'll grow up to be a very great credit to us all." 

"T-thank you, Mother," the svelte brunette teenager quavered. 

She found herself suddenly wondering if, when Daddy went to church this 
Sunday, he would have confessed what she had seen him doing with Betsy this 
afternoon. Or maybe, grown-ups had special dispensation which she didn't 
know about. It was certainly true that her mother scolded her for many 
things which she noticed it seemed to be quite proper for her mother to do, 
like putting on makeup and wearing short skirts. Sometimes it was very hard 
to know just what your parents expected. And even the sisters over at the 
parochial school told you all the things you were forbidden to do, but it 
was funny they never talked about the nice things that were permitted. It 
was all very puzzling. 

Slowly she went to her room and took a shower, hanging up her pretty dress. 
When she saw that her little panties were suspiciously moist, she turned a 
very becoming scarlet and hastily shoved them into the laundry hamper in her 
bathroom. Then she put on a new bra and panty set, and since the weather 
continued to be oppressively warm and certainly her parents weren't going to 
ask what she had on underneath tonight, she settled for yellow anklet socks, 
loafers and her blue middy blouse and matching cotton skirt which just 
covered her soft dimpled knees. 

To satisfy her mother, Angela straightened up her room and then, waiting to 
be called to supper, sat down at her writing desk with one of her 
schoolbooks. But even as she flipped the pages, trying to find something 
interesting to keep her mind on, she couldn't help seeing once again what 
she had seen through the closet peephole and then through the slightly open 
door in Betsy's house. 

By the time her mother called out "Time for supper, Angela!" the lovely 
teenager was beginning to squirm uneasily in her chair, aware of secret 
tinglings between her long satiny legs, and even the snugness of her panties 
seemed to intensify these sensations. 

Hesitantly, she left her bedroom and went into the dining room, where her 
parents were already at the table. Fred Carruthers looked up with a smile. 

"Well, dear, how cool and sweet you look! Enjoying your Easter vacation?" 

"Yes, thank you, Daddy." 

Her mother looked up from serving the tuna fish salad. 

"I meant to tell you, Fred, Father Edmund called this afternoon about the 
church social in May - you remember the one I mentioned." 

"Oh, yes, my dear. How is he these days?" 

"Oh, he's a fine upstanding man, Father is. And you'd have been proud about 
what he had to say about Angela. He sent you his warmest regards." 

"I'll reciprocate them when I see him in church Sunday, Mary. Pass the 
biscuits, please. Thank you. Er - harumph - I brought home quite a bit of 
work from the office, so I'll be keeping my nose to the grindstone here 
tomorrow, Mary." 

"That means I get the marketing chore, doesn't it, Fred?" Angela's mother 
uttered a heartfelt sigh. 

"Never mind, I'll make it up to you one of these days. Besides, Angela can 
take care of the house and her old father. My goodness, I haven't had a 
heart to heart chat with my little girl in a long time, so I'll welcome the 
chance, indeed I shall. Pass the pitcher of iced tea, if you will, Mary my 
love ... ah, thank you." 

Angela ate listlessly, but her mind was wary all through the meal. She was 
wondering if her mother would mention to Daddy that she had gone to Betsy's 
to play during Father Edmund's visit. To her great relief, not a word was 
spoken on that disturbing subject. 

After dinner, there was television, and finally, at nine-thirty, Fred 
Carruthers yawned and glanced at his wristwatch. 

"I think I'd better get a good night's sleep if I'm to get any real work 
done tomorrow, Mary. Angela my dear, it wouldn't hurt you to go to bed 
early. That way, you'll be fresh and ready for the weekend." 

"Yes, Daddy." 

Angela dutifully rose, walked over to her father in the armchair, and bent 
to give him a goodnight kiss on the cheek. His hands for an instant grasped 
her sides just above the hips, and she couldn't help blushing, remembering 
where he had put his hands on Betsy. 

"G-good night, Daddy," she stammered and straightened, then went over to her 
mother on the couch and kissed her on the cheek too and repeated her 
respectful leave-taking. 

Once back in her bedroom, Angela decided to read herself to sleep with the 
history book. It was much too early to think of falling asleep on such a 
warm night, and besides her mind was being crowded by all these incredible 
images which had passed before her innocent eyes. Finally, a little after 
ten, she closed the book, went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and to 
undress and put on her yellow cotton pajamas. Then, holding her breath, she 
tiptoed to her closet and very carefully shifted the jagged chunk of 
plaster. But the room was dark. Mother must have gone to Daddy's room to 
sleep tonight. 

Fitting the chunk back into its exact place, Angela turned out her light and 
got into bed. But it was dreadfully hard to fall asleep, because now that 
her eyes were closed, those naughty pictures came swirling back into her 
mind as vividly as when she had first seen them. Finally, almost in 
self-defense, she edged a forefinger down to the crotch of her pajama pants 
and began to tickle herself. And then at last, shivering and squirming, she 
felt the waves of hot girlish excitement take hold of her and leave her 
quivering and soothed and released ... and then at last sleep came. 

* * * 

To Angela's pleasant surprise, her mother didn't wake her as was customary 
on a school day, and so Angela enjoyed the healthy luxury of deep sleep till 
well after ten the next morning. She put on the same pretty blouse and skirt 
outfit she had worn the night before, and went to the kitchen to get her 
breakfast. 

Her mother was there, seated at the table, making out a grocery list for the 
afternoon shopping. Mary Carruthers wore a red cotton dress, flesh toned 
nylons and black pumps, and looked fresh and youthful. Looking up at her 
daughter with a gracious smile, she greeted the pretty brunette teenager by 
saying, "Good morning, sleepyhead! I'll get your breakfast as soon as I'm 
finished with the shopping list." 

"I can get it myself, Mother," Angela volunteered, somewhat uneasy at her 
mother's unusual cheerfulness. 

Invariably her mother lost no opportunity to sermonize to her lovely 
virginal daughter over the most insignificant faults, from having a sloppy 
room to coming home late from school. 

"No, darling, I'll do it. There, now, I'm done. Now let's see - my big girl 
needs a good breakfast so she can grow up to be a strong, healthy young 
woman. A big glass of orange juice, toast and jam and milk. You sit down 
here, and I'll have it ready in a jiffy." 

Angela decided not to protest, though a sensation of being fattened like a 
sacrificial lamb passed vaguely through her young, impressionable mind. It 
was certainly more discreet to humor her mother than to start an argument. 
But things were so strange, she wasn't sure what was happening at all. 

After breakfast, Angela volunteered to help her mother do the marketing, but 
her mother would have none of it. 

"No, it's still your school vacation, dear, so I want you to enjoy it. Don't 
worry, you'll run plenty of errands starting next week. But for today and 
tomorrow, just relax and be happy. Oh, one thing more - your father is going 
to be working in his room, so try not to disturb him when I'm gone this 
afternoon, dear." 

"I won't, Mother," Angela dutifully murmured. 

She took her dishes to the sink to wash and put them away. Again her mother 
stopped her, insisting that this was her day of recreation, not work. 
Mystified, the girl thanked her mother then asked, "Would it be all right if 
I go visit Betsy?" 

"I saw her going to the store just before you came out for breakfast, dear," 
Mary Carruthers quickly replied. "Why don't you go out and enjoy the garden? 
Maybe you can pull up some of the weeds. It'll do you good to get out into 
the fresh air." 

"Okay, Mother, then I better change my clothes to work in the garden," 
Angela sighed. 

"That's a good idea. Of course, when people visit us the way Father Edmund 
did yesterday, I like to see my little girl looking like a grown up young 
lady. I'm very pleased with you, dear." 

Angela's mother again surprised the lovely young brunette with smiling 
flattery. 

Back in her room Angela was more puzzled than ever. She changed into snug 
jeans and a light pullover sweater over the cotton bra and panties, then 
went into the garden and began thoughtfully pulling weeds. There were more 
weeds than she had imagined. It was well past noon when she at last 
finished. When she went back into the house, her mother had left a note 
thumb-tacked up on the wall. 

Angela - there are sandwiches in the refrigerator for your 

lunch. I probably won't be back till four or five, so you 

can take a nap or watch television. Be sure not to disturb Daddy. Love, 

















Mother 

Angela sat and ate her sandwiches and had a Pepsi. She decided to take a 
shower and change back to her skirt and blouse because the garden work had 
made her dirty and sweaty. As she was getting out of the shower and toweling 
herself, she heard her bedroom door open. 

"Oh g - gosh !" she gasped, turning scarlet and grabbing her green cotton 
bathrobe from the wall hook. 

Hastily she put it on, just tying the knot of the little belt when her 
father appeared. 

He was in his bathrobe, pajamas and slippers and hadn't shaved, as she could 
see from the dark stubble at his jaws and cheeks. He stood staring at her, 
blinking his eyes, a foolish little smile on his lips. 

"Well now, Angie honey, this is a nice surprise!" 

"H-hello, D-Daddy. D-did you finish your work?" 

He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture. 

"Sure, Angie. Lotta work, jus' finish, that's why I said to myself, I said, 
Fred boy, time you looked in'n saw how cute l'il Angie's doing, all my 
herself 'n'everythin'. Thass zactly what I said, honey. Mmm, you look sweet 
'n'cute, right out of the tub, I bet, hm?" 

He moved towards her, and the black-haired young girl swallowed hard, her 
cheeks reddening at the foolish smile deepening ors his lips, the glitter in 
his eyes. Suddenly she remembered that she had seen him naked with Betsy 
across the street, doing sinful things. 

"Hey now, don't run 'way from your of father, honey. Just gimme a li'l kiss. 
Father's got a right to kiss his own daughter, I always say. C'mere now, 
baby. Be nice or Daddy spank." 

Trapped in the doorway of her bathroom, Angela could hardly escape without 
pushing her father away. Besides, trained as she had been all these years to 
respect and obey her parents, such an act would have been unthinkable. 
Resignedly, she tilted up her lovely face to be kissed. Fred Carruthers 
chuckled thickly, moved still closer, put his hands on her waist and pulled 
her to him, giving her a long, hard kiss on the mouth. 

"Ouff - y-you're h-hurting me, D-Daddy !" she gasped. 

His lips had bruised her mouth and, besides, there was a strong odor of 
whiskey to him. She put her soft hands against his chest, gently trying to 
disengage herself, but her father kept hold of her, then kissed her on the 
mouth again. This time, his right hand moved round her, and Angela started 
and gasped as she suddenly felt him squeeze her buttocks through the thin 
robe. 

"D-Daddy - don't, please-" 

"Aw, c'mon, honey, don't be that way. Y'see, baby, your mother'n I made a 
li'l deal. Mary'n I, well, we've been good churchgoing folks all our lives, 
'n now it's time we had a li'l fun fer ourselves while we're still young 
enough to enjoy it. Swinging fun, baby. 'N it's time you started havin' fun 
along with us, get me, Angie ?" 

Owlishly he blinked at her, his grin lecherous and drunken, and then as she 
kept staring at him with uncomprehending, widened eyes, he clamped his left 
arm round her shoulders, plunged his right hand into the folds of the 
bathrobe and pressed his palm against her bare belly. 

"Hey, Angie honey, you haven't got panties on - mm, such nice soft skin, 
you're growing up just right, honey!" 

"Oooh - D-Daddy - please - d-don't - take your hand away - OH - NOO!" 

Angela's voice rose to an anguished wail. In wriggling away from his probing 
hand, and while pushing at his chest with both of her hands, she had 
unwittingly given her daddy the opportunity to press his hand down between 
her squirming bare thighs and rub the black curls which framed her adorable 
pink-lipped virgin cunt. 

"Don't yell like that, honey, I'm not gonna hurt my little darlin' Angie," 
Fred Carruthers mumbled, his face red and contorted. "Now you be nice 'n put 
your arms round me and gimme a nice hug 'n kiss, or I'll be real angry with 
my big girl!" 

All the while he spoke, his palm was rubbing back and forth over the 
delicious plump mound of Angela's sex mound, and the frantic young girl, 
beside herself with shame, kept squirming this way and that, reluctant to 
strike or kick her own father. 

"Ohhh, Daddy, please - I - I'll kiss you - but please do take your h-hand 
away - it - it's not right. You're my father, please take it away!" she 
pleaded. 

Through her distraught mind flashed the awareness that this, too, was 
perhaps the greatest of all mortal sins, one she would be honor bound to 
confess in the curtained booth. 

"All right, gimme that nice sweet kiss then, 'n I'll take my hand away," her 
father bargained. 

He drew his arm back, though tightening his hold round her slim shoulders 
with his other arm. 

Panting and shivering, feeling strange tingling sensations where his palm 
had rubbed so salaciously, the young girl locked her arms round his neck 
and, closing her eyes, gave him a surrendering, naive kiss on the cheek. 

"Aw, c'mon, that's no kiss, Angie," Fred Carruthers complained in a slurred, 
husky voice. "Now you lissen good. Hear me, your of dad has something real 
important to tell you - like I just said, Angie, your mom 'n me, we worked 
out a nifty l'il deal and you're in it. We're all gonna be real lovey-dovey, 
'n that means you gotta coop'rate, see, Angie sweetheart?" 

"N-no, I don't, Daddy - please - get out for a minute, anyhow, so I can put 
some clothes on, won't you please, Daddy?" Angela piteously quavered, still 
struggling against her father's relentless hold. 

Then she uttered a shrill wail of consternation; taking her by surprise, he 
had plunged his right hand into the open top of her bathrobe and grabbed one 
of her firm, young pear breasts and was squeezing it lovingly as he 
leeringly approached his red, swollen face to hers and stifled another 
plaintive outcry with a hot, moist, greedy kiss. 

In his intoxicated state, Fred Carruthers pinched Angela's pink nipple more 
painfully than he realized. Angela uttered a cry of mingled consternation 
and anguish; in a defensive reaction her little fist struck against his 
wrist and he dropped his offending hand, stumbling backwards with a rueful 
and startled expression at this sign of filial disloyalty. 

"Angie - you'd hit your own father! Oh, you naughty girl you!" 

"Daddy - I have to get some clothes on. Please - you - you sit down and I'll 
go outside and dress, and then - and then we'll talk - will you, please?" 
she pleaded, very close to tears. 

Vaguely, through the fog of liquor and lust, Fred realized that he had 
perhaps gone too far too quickly and, mumbling an incoherent apology, he 
staggered to her bed and slumped down on the edge, rubbing his face. Angela 
profited from this pause to snatch up her white cotton bra and panties, the 
middy blouse and matching skirt, her anklets and loafers, and, her face 
turning scarlet as the none too securely fastened bathrobe suddenly swung 
open to reveal the breathtaking glories of her budding titties and the 
suave, dimpled belly and the thick black triangle which marked her virgin 
pussy, hurried out of the room and made for her mother's bedroom, where she 
swiftly clad herself. 

In her mother's bathroom, she seized a comb and combed her glossy black 
cascade of hair straight back, twisting it into a thick single braided 
pigtail and securing it with a rubber band. Surveying herself in her 
mother's dressing-table mirror Angela uttered a sigh of satisfaction. The 
pigtail made her look charmingly juvenile. Naive though she was, Angela's 
instinct told her that perhaps if her father saw her now, he would realize 
that, after all, she was still only twelve. 

As she went back to her room, the sudden thought assailed her that Betsy was 
only a year older, and just look what Daddy had been doing with her! As she 
entered, Fred Carruthers looked up and brightened. 

"Angie, hey, you look just fine, dear! Come sit on my lap and give me a nice 
hug and a kiss and say you're sorry for having hit your own father!" 

"I am, Daddy, but you oughtn't to have - to have felt me that way," she 
blurted. 

Very slowly and warily, Angela moved to the edge of the bed. Fred Carruthers 
chuckled softly, reached for her, and pulled her onto his lap, shifting her 
sideways so that he could circle her waist with his left arm and have his 
right hand free. 

"Now kiss me nice," he muttered thickly. 

"Yes, Daddy," the black-haired teenager obediently murmured. 

Her smooth, satiny bare arms wound round his neck and she again kissed him 
on the cheek. 

"Not that way. Do it right, honey," her father urged. 

He demonstrated what he meant by forcing his mouth against her soft lips. As 
Angela squirmed and gasped, she suddenly stiffened and her eyes want very 
wide. Against her jouncy bottom she had unmistakably felt a hard, jabbing 
protuberance - his rigid prick was roused by the frictioning feel of her 
delectable, resilient behind in his lap. And at the same moment, profiting 
from her distraction, Fred Carruthers slyly slid his right hand under her 
skirt all the way up to the crotch of her dainty little white panties and 
began to poke and rub the soft plump virgin cunt mound with a forefinger's 
knowing tip. 

Frantically embarrassed, Angela reacted with a wild squeal, clenching her 
legs together fiercely while she tried to wriggle off his lap. But the 
constricting fetter of his left arm and his renewed hot savage kisses on her 
panting young sweet mouth, together with his insistent poking finger which 
pressed the thin cotton fabric in between her twitching and now 
involuntarily moistening cuntal lips, prevented her escape. Finally, 
twisting her mouth away, she gasped almost hysterically, "Oh don't do that. 
Please - you mustn't touch me there, Daddy. It's not right!" 

"Not right? Why, you sweet little cherry you, that's where a girl ought to 
be touched before she does it the first time, to wake her up. Didn't I tell 
you that your mother and I had made a cozy little arrangement, Angela baby? 
Relax now, stop trying to get away, baby. Your mother won't care if you show 
your old father some nice sweet young love and affection. Kiss me again and 
open your lips. I'll show you why!" 

"N - ohh - stop. it - oh don't touch rime there. Please, you just mustn't!" 
Angela sobbed. 

With a last despairing effort she pushed with all her might against his 
heaving chest. At last she managed to scramble off his lap and run sobbing 
out of the house. She knew what she had to do - she needed someone's advice, 
because what was happening to her had become too much to cope with. She 
would go to confession right now and perhaps one of the old priests would 
comfort her and absolve her of the sin of playing with herself ... down 
there ... after she told him what she had seen within twenty-four short 
hours of her chaste and innocent. young life. 

Sniffling and trying to control her tears, she slowed down as she reached 
the stone steps of the old church, and, glancing fearfully back down the 
street, began to climb them. 

It was as well for her peace of mind that she had no way of knowing that her 
father had hurried to the telephone and was, even at this moment, talking in 
a low, confidential voice. When he hung up, he rubbed his hands together and 
chuckled, a lewd glint in his narrowed eyes... 

 Chapter 4 

Angela had been comforted to find that there were no parishioners in any of 
the pews. She walked to the very last of the three curtained confessional 
booths and entered it. At once she knelt down, hastily crossed herself, and 
began to pray silently, suppressing a sniffle every now and again. 

Suddenly she heard footsteps which grew closer, then stopped. She knew from 
this that the priest had come to hear her confession. 

"F-forgive me, F-Father, for I have sinned," she blurted. 

Then Angela uttered a loud sigh in which both relief and shame were mixed. 
But now the uneasy knowledge that she must tell the truth and yet not 
involve either her mother and father, or Betsy and least of all Father 
Edmund, weighted heavily upon her disoriented young mind. 

"I am here, my daughter. How have you sinned?" 

It was a deeply resonant baritone voice, and its very solemn one made her 
start and her lovely gray-green eyes widened with dismay. Was it possibly 
Father Joseph? No, he was white-haired and his voice cracked sometimes. 
Maybe it was Father Thomas, though usually his voice was lighter and less 
grave. Quickly striving to compose her rambling thoughts, she stammered, 
"I-I have had sinful th-thoughts, Father. About things of the flesh." 

"Yes, my daughter? Go on!" 

"I-I have done a forbidden thing ... w ... with myself at n ... night, 
Father." 

"That is to say, you have played with yourself - is that correct?" 

"Yes, Father. I ... I'm ashamed." 

"Have you done this many times, my daughter?" 

"N ... not as ... not as often as the last few days, Father. But ... but 
when - c ... can't sleep, sometimes I..." 

"It is a selfish and corrupt thing, my daughter, and you must repent your 
sin. Also, you will tell me why it is that you have committed this sin more 
frequently than usual the last few days." 

His voice was very deep, very grave now. 

Squirming nervously on her knees, Angela Carruthers frantically tried to 
compose her thoughts into harmless words that would not betray those dearest 
to her. 

"I-I - " she falteringly began. 

"Yes, my daughter, I am waiting. Do not try to hide anything, for that in 
itself is a deception at this sacred moment of confession," the deep voice 
prompted her. 

"I'm trying, Father. But - but I didn't actually do anything wrong - I mean, 
about what I saw, Father. It - it was just an accident - " 

"Tell me about it, my daughter," the voice reproved her, and the note of 
impatience in it made the lovely young virgin squirm restlessly on her 
knees, as if seeking a less uncomfortable site from which to describe the 
shocking visions which had been revealed to her. 

"Well, Father, accidentally, I - I saw a grownup woman in bed with ... with 
a man, and they - they were doing things, Father." 

Angela's face turned crimson, her young breasts rose and fell erratically. 

"He ... he was kneeling behind her, Father, and ... and pushing himself 
against ... against her b ... bottom, and she didn't have any clothes on." 

"Was that all you saw, my child?" 

"No ... no, Father. Later the same afternoon, I ... I went to see a girl I 
know, and the door was open and she ... she was in bed too, with a man, and 
they were both un ... undressed, and kissing and ... and things - " her 
voice trailed off. 

"And you watched, without turning away, my daughter?" 

"Y ... yes ... I know I shouldn't have, Father, but I ... I was so shocked, 
I didn't know what to do," Angela quavered, very close to tears. 

"And on both those occasions, I take it, you played with yourself ?" 

"Y ... yes ... I did, Father." 

"That was a wicked sin of the flesh, my daughter. For your penance, say a 
hundred Hail Marys and humbly resolve not to offend either by eavesdropping 
on such damnable scenes or by gratifying your own weak, shameful flesh as 
you have told me you do, my daughter." 

"I ... I will, Father." 

"See that you do, my child. Now repeat the prayer of contrition with me, and 
then you may go. Say, 'Oh God, I am heartily sorry I have sinned and 
offended thee - ' " 

Trembling and with bowed head, Angela repeated the prayer to the very end, 
and then heard the priest say, "Go now, daughter, and resolve to sin no 
more." 

She rose unsteadily, her dimpled knees aching from the long sojourn on the 
hard leather-padded prayer stool, drew back the curtain and moved towards 
the door. She uttered a stifled cry of alarm. Someone seized her wrist and 
was drawing her round the booth towards the door of the sacristy. She saw 
the black robe of a priest, but she saw only his back. 

There was a vague metallic click - the turning of the key in the lock - and 
then the priest turned to face her. She recoiled, a hand at her mouth, her 
eyes enormous. It was Father Edmund! 

"Oh, my poor unhappy daughter, you have sinned grievously, and you must do 
penance," he said, shaking his head and staring at Angela, till she felt her 
knees threaten to give way. 

"Father Edmund - -were you the one who - just now?" 

"Yes, my child. Young though you are, Angela, there is latent corruption in 
you. To be able to stand by and watch fleshly wickedness without 
courageously shutting your eyes against its carnal temptations and, worst of 
all, to commit the dreadful sin of Onan, shows a deplorable weakness of 
character. Clearly, you must suffer corporal penance as well as the 
spiritual penance I have already imposed. Avow your wickedness, my child, 
and humbly submit yourself to this penance, that it may mortify your weak, 
yielding flesh and strengthen you to bear the tests which alone can redeem 
you for salvation." 

"Yes, Father. I-I didn't mean to watch, honest I didn't - " 

"Hush, child, do not add the sin of mendacity to your already numerous 
offenses!" 

He shook a warning finger at the trembling girl. Then, taking hold of her 
wrist again, Father Edmund led her, unresisting, towards a straightbacked 
chair in which he seated himself. Next, to Angela's embarrassed 
consternation, he adroitly pulled her down over his lap. 

"Ohh - Father Edmund - what?" she gasped in a choked, incredulous voice. 

"Be still, Angela! I am going to administer the discipline called for by 
your transgressions of the flesh - it is only fitting that I chastise those 
parts of you which sinned," he announced as she squirmed helplessly over his 
knees. 

Then he reached down to tug up her skirt and roll it high on her back, 
revealing the firm jouncy oval globes of her bottom shaped out in the most 
provocative way by the tight little white cotton panties. 

His left arm clamped round her waist, and he passed his right palm lightly 
and lingeringly over the jutting, impudently upreared globes of her maiden 
bottom. Angela wriggled frantically, glancing fearfully back, her cheeks 
crimson with shame. 

"Oh, please, Father Edmund. What are you g-going to do to me?" 

"Chastise you, child, and on the place nature has designated for such 
discipline. It must, of course, be completely unprotected in order for the 
punishment to be effective. Prepare yourself, daughter, and remember, 
submission is a virtue that will redeem - though not entirely, to be sure - 
your many sins!" 

To the girl's shame, Father Edmund inserted his fingers under the waistband 
of her little panties and began to tug them down. Angela implored him to 
spare her this supreme humiliation. 

"Oh no ! Oh please, Father Edmund, leave my panties on - if - if you have to 
punish me, I - I'll submit. Please ... can't you punish me over them?" 

"No, my daughter, it must be on the naked flesh, as I told you! Now lie 
still and resign yourself. And while I am administering correction, tell 
yourself it is for your own good and your ultimate salvation!" 

As he concluded this declaration, Father Edmund's fingers gave an energetic 
tug and poor Angela found herself with her panties pulled inside out at the 
middle of her long, nervously muscled naked thighs, the satiny ovals of her 
virgin bottom lasciviously bared. A sobbing wail of mortification announced 
her anguish, followed by a squeal of mingled indignation and fear when his 
right palm again caressingly palpated the enticing contours. 

"Submit yourself humbly, now, my child," he reminded her, pulling Angela in 
more closely with his left arm and edging it down over her right hip. 

Then, lifting his other hand, he brought it down with a smart, noisy Smack! 

"Ohhhh ! Oh please don't spank me, Father Edmund!" Angela groaned, her 
little hands clenched in front of her. 

This was the first time she had ever been spanked on her bare butt. Only her 
mother had ever spanked her, and then over her panties or dress, on the spur 
of the moment for some childish prank. Angela's last actual spanking had 
occurred about three years ago. And that was exactly why she was crushed 
with humiliation and shame to find herself so ignominiously and helplessly 
draped across the priest's lap. 

Smack! Smack! 

Warming to his task, the black-robed priest applied two crisp, stinging 
blows with the flat of his palm, each against the ripest curve of a tensing, 
shivering bottom. Angela's feet kicked up in a flurry of distress and 
discomfort, while she again glanced back over her shoulder to try to beg 
herself off this atrociously humiliating penance. With all her might, she 
tightened the muscles of her up-raised naked behind, clenching her thighs 
together so that Father Edmund couldn't see the most intimate part of her 
exposed virginal body. 

His hand rose and fell without pause. Half a dozen rapid but stinging slaps 
visited her upturned bare bottom, distributed from the top of the twitching, 
huddling oval globes to the base, just where her lovely long thighs merged. 
Angela twisted like an eel and finally rushed one hand back to cover up, 
sobbing, "Oh please don't, oh I'm so ashamed, Father Edmund!" 

His answer was to swing his right leg out from under her while his left arm 
shifted her slightly forward. Then his free leg clamped solidly over her 
calves, preventing Angela from kicking while this angling of her body over 
one knee instead of two served to arch up her rosy-splotched naked bottom 
even more prominently. Angela's sobs and groans at once indicated that she 
was aware, naive though she was, of how much more of her maiden nudity she 
was thus being obliged to show him. 

Overwhelmed by shame and the even more complex distress of knowing that this 
handsome, domineering priest had shut himself up with her own mother - just 
as he was with her right now - Angela tried to stave off the stinging pangs 
of the spanking as well as to shield her unprofaned young naked flesh from 
his sight and touch by pressing both soft hands over her upthrust, reddening 
bare behind. But with a sly, soft chuckle, as if he had anticipated this 
very maneuver, Father Edmund hunched over the wildly struggling half nude 
girl and slipped his left hand round and under her, his forefinger's tip 
attacking the silky-fleeced apex of her virgin cunt. 

"Ohhh nooo, don't touch me there, F-Father Edmund. Please, not there!" she 
tearfully shrilled. 

She tried to plunge both hands under her to grab at his profaning hand and 
wrest it away from the most private nook of her delectably nubile young 
body. 

"Stop that at once, you disobedient, rebellious child!" he scolded hoarsely. 
"Shall I tell your parents how you resist your holy confessor and refuse to 
accept your penance?" 

"No, Father, but oh don't touch me there, it - it's not decent!" was all the 
sobbing young beauty could poignantly counter as she frantically kept 
weaving her loins in a desperate attempt to dislodge his finger, which had, 
during her struggles, found the dainty little nub of her clitoris and was 
now insistently tweaking and rubbing it, then pressing it back down into the 
protective cowl of soft girlish pussy flesh and letting it bob up again, 
visibly stiffening from the lascivious friction of his cunning 
manipulations. 

"Oh, my misguided daughter," he at once replied, purposely pressing his 
forefinger against her hardening little lovebud to make it disappear inside 
the tender, moistening pink flesh of her maiden pussy. 

His right palm roamed at will over her contracting, rosy-flushed bottom 
cheeks. 

"How can you use such a word when it is you, by stealth and shameless 
deception, who have committed the greatest indecency - that of spying on 
your elders. You should have at once turned your eyes away from the 
corrupting sight. But no, you watched as if you longed to take part in such 
infamous orgies - and thus, poor Angela, you sinned as greatly as those you 
now condemn in the confessional! Resign yourself, it will be a long penance 
and you must feel all of it to achieve the degree of contrition which alone 
can save your soul!" 

With this sententious statement, which could not help but impress the, 
frightened, shamed young beauty because of her strict upbringing and her 
constant attendance at church, Father Edmund gave her behind a smart slap 
which drew a plaintive squeal from the distressed brunette, and then sternly 
ordered, "Now then, my daughter, clasp your hands and hold them out in front 
of you. Do not dare to protect your impudent bottom, or I shall be obliged 
to tie your hands, and then of course your penance will be the more severe 
because of your rebelliousness!" 

With a groan of deepest shame, poor Angela obeyed, closing her eyes and 
squirming feverishly, trying in her gyrations to dislodge his finger from 
her peehole. But she could not. Even as she became aware of hot, throbbing 
sensations in her most secret niche, Father Edmund resumed the spanking with 
a pair of crisply resonant slaps that flattened the ripest summit of each 
bottom-globe in turn and drew a sobbing plea for pardon from the helpless 
young captive. 

"Oww - ohh, F-Father, please, n-not so hard!" 

"You must learn to suffer pain and bear it courageously, Angela," he 
countered, pulling his circling left arm towards himself so as to drag her 
closer to him. 

He said it without releasing her quivering little clit. At the same time, he 
reached out to roll her rumpled skirt back up again so her condemned bare 
seat would have no protection as he applied four vigorous spanks, two to the 
base of each vividly reddened buttock. His eyes gleamed to see poor Angela's 
naked hips lunge and twist and arch and flatten; which disclosed to his 
eagerly vigilant gaze the bewitching sight of her soft, pink, cuntal lips 
framed by the luxurious silky black curls. At times, when the contractions 
of her bottom relaxed to display the furtive sinuosity of her anal groove, 
Father Edmund had the delicious and forbidden pleasure of observing the 
soft, petulant shell-pink lips of her virgin bottomhole puckering and 
twitching as if moved by erotic stimulus from the spanking. 

Again he let his right palm rest caressingly on her crimsoned naked behind, 
savoring the uncontrollable flexing of her girlish, tender flesh. His left 
forefinger momentarily released her turgid little clit to tickle the soft 
coral rims of her quivering cuntal lips. 

Angela, tears running down her contorted face, moaned and continued to 
wriggle this way and that, but by now it was not entirely just from the 
expert frigging Father Edmund was inflicting since her tender behind was 
beginning to smart intolerably. 

"Are you beginning to be less rebellious, my daughter, and to repent your 
sins?" he asked her, and, when she could not speak for trying to catch her 
breath, punctuated the question with a hard smack of his palm over the 
narrow, sinuous shadowy crevice that separated her satiny buttocks. 

Angela's naked hips lunged and jerked. 

"Ow, oh, yes, yes, I am, oh please no more, Father, please!" 

As Angela kept squirming fitfully in her distress, she was vaguely aware of 
a hard, unyielding object that kept poking her lower abdomen and inner 
thighs, but, still virgin, she did not recognize it as the swollen and by 
now savagely erect prick of her confessor-executioner. 

"For shame, child!" Father Edmund scolded, having poked his finger all 
around the lips of her maiden vulva and inside, up to the virgin barrier of 
her hymen. "The wetness which I detect with my finger tells me, Angela, that 
you are again experiencing naughty, forbidden pleasures. Yet you are here to 
be properly punished, not to experience your own wicked, selfish 
satisfaction. Get yourself ready for a really hard chastisement!" 

Reluctantly withdrawing his finger from her twitching maiden cunt, the 
priest ordered her to put her wrists together behind her back. Then he 
gripped them tightly with his left hand. With his right leg already locking 
her calves in a vise of steel, the young brunette was totally unable to 
prevent his doing whatever he wished. 

For the moment, however, Father Edmund was quite content to spank her 
jouncy, firm, satiny naked behind, with slowly applied slaps, equally 
distributed to both wriggling, contracting, angrily reddening globes, 
ignoring her shrill increasingly plaintive and almost incoherent cries for 
pardon. 

When he paused, his face brick-red with lust, his eyes glittering at the 
lascivious sight of her angrily inflamed, quaking buttocks, Angela was 
crying as if her heart would break, weaving and jerking her bare hips about 
so wildly that he constantly beheld the yawning pink inside of her virgin 
cunt as well as the amber rosy orifice of her equally virgin asshole. And it 
was this latter maidenhead which Father Edmund determined to enjoy. 

"There now," he panted, pressing his palm down over the crease of her 
flaming buttocks, "are you ready to obey without question and to submit to 
any penance I see fit to give you, Angela?" 

"Ahhh - ohh - ouu - ahhh - boo hoo hoo, yyes, Father. I'll do anything you 
say, only please, pleeeeease, d ... don't sp - spank me any more!" she 
sobbed hysterically. 

"That shows a better attitude of contrition, my child. Very well. You may 
get up. Do you see that armchair in the corner?" 

"Yes Father," Angela said tearfully. 

Having been released, she staggered to her feet and promptly clapped both 
hands to her bottom and began to rub, heedless of the enchantingly juvenile 
spectacle she made of herself thereby. 

"Very well. You are to remove your skirt and your panties completely, 
Angela, then walk over here, kneel down on the seat and bend your head and 
arms over the top. That will be the beginning of your final penance this 
afternoon!" he commanded. 

She stared at him, her lips trembling and tears glistening in her dilated 
gray-green eyes. 

"What are you gonna do to me, Father Edmund?" she quavered. 

"If you don't obey me, child, I'm afraid I'll have to give you a much harder 
spanking," he sternly replied. "This time it will be with a leather belt!" 

"Oh no !" Angela moaned. 

Feverishly she began to unfasten her skirt. When it dropped to the floor, 
she stopped, wincing from the hot pangs that at once were rekindled in her 
spanked bottom, tugged the twisted panties off, and then, blushing to her 
earlobes, almost ran to the chair and knelt down, welcoming the opportunity 
to hide her pussy from his glittering eyes. Father Edmund moved slowly 
towards her. He had put his hand into the pocket of his robe and was taking 
out a little tube, unscrewing the cap. 

"Bend well over the top of the chair, Angela," he hoarsely instructed, "or I 
shall be forced to spank you again to teach you the meaning of humble and 
prompt obedience!" 

With an anguished groan, the lovely young brunette obeyed, thus arching and 
thrusting out her vividly reddened bottom, which was in exciting contrast 
with the deeply hollowed smooth back and long, lovely squirming thighs. His 
eyes feasted on the tender virgin flesh of her buttocks and thighs, and the 
stifled sounds of her timid sobs and fearful sighs made the black robe 
suddenly thrust forward at the level of his crotch, indicating that his 
massive virility had been furiously roused by this preliminary chastisement 
of the nubile young virgin. 

"Now, hold very still and do not dare to prevent what I am going to do to 
you, my daughter," he solemnly intoned as he smeared some Vaseline onto his 
right forefinger. Then he bent over the kneeling, trembling teenager and 
suddenly opened the jouncy oval cheeks of her crimsoned bottom to expose the 
shrinking rosette of her maiden asshole. 

"Ohhh, Father, Father Edmund, oh don't - do - t-that!" Angela moaned, upset 
by the unexpected exposure of her most secret orifice, never before viewed 
by a man's profaning eyes. 

"Silence, daughter, this is part of your act of contrition and must be 
humbly endured if I am to grant you absolution from your wickedness," was 
Father Edmund's hoarse rejoinder. 

As he proceeded to rub the ointment all over Angela's dainty shrinking anus, 
he nearly made her faint with shame by dextrously inserting the tip of his 
forefinger just inside her butt lips and rubbing here and there to make 
certain that the passageway to bliss would be thoroughly lubricated. 

Angela's blushes deepened and she began to sob softly as she bowed her head, 
utterly annihilated in her tender virginal modesty by such handling of her 
nakedness. But Father Edmund used this understandable physical reaction as a 
pretext for chiding his helpless young captive. 

"Impudent, sinful girl, is this your way of expressing humility and 
gratitude for the absolution you seek to gain? Now then, daughter, bend your 
rebellious head and shoulders farther down and stick out your impudent 
bottom for the application of holy oil." 

As she tearfully obeyed, Angela was dying of mortification to realize how 
indecently she was arching out her satiny posterior. Father Edmund swiftly 
rucked up his robe and revealed himself naked save for socks and black shoes 
beneath. His penis was savagely erect, the dark veins angrily swollen and 
the lips of the glans were twitching with spasmodic agitation, a testimonial 
to the erotic excitement into which poor Angela's confession and subsequent 
chastisement had drawn him. He squeezed more of the greasy ointment onto his 
finger and proceeded to anoint his organ from tip to testicles. Then, face 
reddened and eyes narrowed with lustful anticipation, Father Edmund 
approached the crouching, trembling sniffling girl. 

"Now then, my daughter, resign yourself and accept your penance," he 
muttered, prying open the quaking, tightening cheeks of her reddened behind 
ramming greased tip of his cock against the shrinking rosette of her virgin 
asshole. 

The swift directness of Father Edmund's procedure had stunned Angela. Before 
she could twist away she felt his glans probe against the tender petals of 
her bumhole and force between them. Only then, horrified at the sensation, 
did she protest. 

"Ohhhh, don't do that, it hurts, don't poke me there, please, Father!" 

"Hold still, and don't dare pull away, my child, or I'll be forced to spank 
your naked behind very hard indeed with a stinging belt! Now, Angela, you 
remember what you told me at the confessional, that you had seen a grownup 
man pushing against the bottom of a woman - isn't that so?" 

"Ah - y-y-es, F-Father - ohhh, please take it out of my asssss!" Angela 
wriggled like a fish on the end of a harpoon, imploring reprieve from this 
incredible penetration, the sensation of which was entirely new and 
extremely painful to her. 

"No, daughter, you must suffer it bravely and humbly, for it is your 
penance, as I warned you. But now, what I am doing to your bottom, my child. 
Isn't it what you saw this man do with this woman? Tell me the truth, sinful 
girl that you are!" 

At this, Father Edmund thrust violently forward, his hands gripping Angela's 
bare hips tightly so that she could not jerk away. With a wailing, rising 
cry, Angela announced both the martyrdom of her anal virginity and the 
affirmation of what she had truly seen. 

"Aiiiii - ouuuyessss - ahhh, ohh." 

The tightness of her delicious anal sheath was, quite naturally, greater 
than that of her maiden cunthole. Father Edmund, face twisted and darkened 
with his lust, groaned aloud as he felt the walls of Angela's rectal canal 
clench spasmodically against his almost entirely imbedded prick. With 
another hard lunge he managed to hilt himself to the balls, redoubling the 
frantic contractions which gripped and clamped his organ in the most 
indescribably rapturous way as if poor Angela were sexually responding with 
all her adolescent ardor to her first bottom-fucking. 

"Yes, daughter," the priest panted, glorying in the feverish clenchings of 
Angela's asshole against his throbbing prick, "you shall have first-hand 
evidence of what you alleged you saw this man doing to this woman ... do you 
feel me inside your dainty little bumhole, my eavesdropping, sinful child?" 

"Ahhhrr - yes - oh, Father Edmund, please stop. Oh take it out of meee. It's 
splitting me apart, I'm begging you to stop it, owouuuhh - pleeeeease," 
Angela hysterically wailed. 

But by now his rut was ungovernable. Slipping his left forefinger to the 
apex of her soft pink cuntal lips and finding the dainty nub of her virgin 
clit, Father Edmund began to rub it furiously while his other hand reached 
round to clamp against her belly and thus compel Angela to meet his 
relentless charge. He began to bottom-fuck the squirming black-haired girl 
with formidably deep strokes, drawing back to the ring of sphincter muscles 
at the very brink of her asshole, till, with a bellow of ecstasy, Father 
Edmund felt himself burst all his pent-up essence deep into her quaking 
bowels. 

Slowly, he pulled out with a noisy "Plop!" Taking out a handkerchief from 
the pocket of his robe, he wiped his stiff, greasy penis. 

Angela, huddled on her knees, bowed over the back of the armchair, sobbing 
softly, felt turmoil seething in her entire being - for Father Edmund's 
frigging of her clit had, at the last moment, procured pleasurable 
sensations that offset the aching torment of her nether lovehole. 

"You have done penance, my child, so you may dress and go," Father Edmund 
panted as he smoothed the robe, and left the sacristy. 

After a few moments, the distraught girl collected her discarded panties and 
skirt, put them back on, and tottered from the church to return home. The 
enormity of what had taken place had numbed her mind. Perhaps her mother, 
she thought, could explain why Father Edmund had been so dreadful to her... 

 Chapter 5 

Angela's thoughts were jumbled as she approached the little house, her hair 
was disheveled and her cheeks still moist with the tears of her first real 
virginal loss and the stinging of her tender bottom. Each step she took made 
her conscious of the throbbing sensitivity of her dainty anus, and yet the 
tickling Father Edmund's finger had so insistently administered to her clit 
had wakened feelings which were even stronger. 

Moreover, since she herself had already experienced them - though in much 
milder form - from her nocturnal self-fingering, Angela was able for all her 
innocence to understand that the very shock and shame of having a man - even 
though he was a priest and her confessor - strip and fondle her so 
intimately had been really what had intensified her tingling pleasure in 
front while her furtive little bottomhole had been initiated into adapting 
its tight and narrow inlet to the dimensions of the male. 

Also, she had an uneasy and somewhat guilty fear that Father Edmund had as 
much as guessed that she had been spying on him and her mother, for when he 
had remarked that now she would know first-hand what had taken place between 
the woman and the man mentioned - though of course not identified - in her 
confession. And what frightened Angela most was that the tall, stern priest 
might tell her mother and thus sentence her to even worse punishment than 
she had just endured in the sacristy. 

Also, he had said nothing to comfort her about having seen Daddy and Betsy 
together, only to scold her for her wickedness in eavesdropping on her 
elders and in not closing her eyes and turning away once she had seen what 
was being done in those beds. They were surely mortal sins, judging from all 
the teaching she had had, and yet Father Edmund hadn't even admitted as 
much. 

At the last moment, Angela decided to enter the house through the kitchen 
and perhaps avoid meeting either her mother or father. She smoothed her 
rumpled skirt, dried her eyes and blew her nose, and then nervously opened 
the door and walked timidly inside. Her heart sank at once. Her mother must 
have just returned from marketing. She was in the kitchen with her back to 
Angela. 

"Oh - h-hi, Mother," the black-haired teenager mumbled, and began to edge 
sideways towards the hallway, hoping to gain the sanctuary of her own room 
where she would change her clothes and repair the damages inflicted by 
Father Edmund's unique form of penance. 

But fate was decidedly against Angela. Mary Carruthers turned, her blue eyes 
widening, then narowing. 

"Angela, where have you been? Just look at you, young lady! Your skirt and 
blouse are a disgrace, and your face is red and swollen - what have you been 
up to?" 

"Nothing - Mother. I went to con-confession, that's all, honest it is!" the 
blackhaired teenager faltered. 

But the furious blush which rushed to her cheeks, a nervous reaction from 
all that had just happened and augmented by her mother's hostile and 
suspicious accusation, only served to increase Mary Carruthers' irritation. 

"Oh, that's all, is it? A likely story! Like as not, you were flirting with 
some boy you met, probably in the alley!" 

"Oh nooo, that's not true," Angela groaned, wringing her slim hands, tears 
glistening in her gray-green eyes. 

A wave of self-pity flooded the girl at being adjudged a sinner when she had 
been just the reverse, a helpless, innocent victim. 

"I'll soon find out. Come here to me, Angela !" her mother scolded, reaching 
for Angela's wrist. 

Before the frightened girl could defend herself or guess what her mother 
intended, Mary Carruthers had pulled Angela over her knees as she seated 
herself on a nearby kitchen chair. In almost the same movement, she rucked 
up the blue cotton skirt. 

"Ah, ha! Your panties are stained and wet, you sinful little slut! What did 
you do, let your nasty boyfriend take them down and play with you, you 
indecent little hussy?" 

Angela made a futile effort to cover her still painfully throbbing bottom, 
burst into tears. 

"Ohhhh, Mother, you know I don't have any b-boy friend," she sobbed 
dolefully, "it was in ch-church - " 

"Oh, you outrageous little liar. Next you'll be telling me the good priest 
undressed you and played with you between the legs! Really, Angela, I have 
no patience with wicked lying little sinners. If you were honest enough to 
tell the truth, I'd be more likely to accept your story! Just for that, my 
girl, you're going to get a good spanking till you tell the truth!" 

"Oh noooo, not a spanking, Mother. Please, I already had one. Don't take 
them off, Mother. Oh don't, ohhhhh !" 

In vain the sobbing girl tried to fend off the undeserved chastisement. Mary 
Carruthers, with an impatient grimace, had already yanked the offending 
panties down to Angela's long thighs, exposing that adorably provocative, 
firm behind which was, this time, no longer as virginal as it had been when 
its lovely adolescent owner had hurried over to church to ease her troubled 
mind. 

The marks of the priest's spanking, though slightly faded, were testimony to 
Angela's veracity. But Mary Carruthers, her left arm pulling the pleading, 
sobbing girl closer to her opulent body, had determined to view them only as 
further proof of Angela's carnal lapse from chastity and grace. 

"Ah, no wonder you didn't want your panties down, you deceitful, sinful 
little slut!" Her mother harangued the unfortunate girl and, as Angela tried 
again to cover up her still smarting bottom with both hands, her blonde 
mother angrily pinned both wrists with her left hand. "Now, I shan't listen 
to any more of your lies, young lady! I am going to spank your wicked bottom 
till I'm convinced that what you tell me is the actual truth! Get ready, 
young lady!" 

"Oh no, Mother! Don't spank me again - it still hurts from his - oww - ohhh. 
Mother, I beg of you - I'll be good - I didn't do anything wrong. Ahhrrrr - 
it wasn't my fault. I swear it. Oh don't spank so hard, it hurts so, Mother 
dear. I'll be good - ahh - ahh - oh no, no, please stop. Oh let up for a 
minute. I'll tell you - only please stop for a minute, Mother!" 

Energetically Mary Carruthers had inflicted some twenty stinging slaps all 
over the wriggling, weaving, crimsoning naked bottom. Poor Angela, agonized 
by being immobilized so that she could not escape this unmerited second 
chastisement, was unable to remain stoic as the vehement smacks of her 
mother's hand increased the already hot stinging glow in her martyred bottom 
cheeks - and between them! 

Sobbing woefully, her lovely face twisted and wet with tears, poor Angela 
again looked to observe her mother reaching for a worn slipper sole which 
lay on the kitchen table, grasping it and lifting it slowly above her 
already crimsoned, flinching naked bottom. 

"Oh not with that! Not more spanking, pleeeeease, Mother!" she poignantly 
squealed, trying to jerk her captive wrists free so as to cover up her 
burning behind from this even more painful instrument. 

"I'll teach you to carry tales, young lady! The idea, to be so blasphemous 
and have me thinking someone upright like dear Father Edmund would make 
improper advances to a rude little liar of twelve!" Mary Carruthers scolded 
Angela as she brought the sole down with a loud Whack! across the relatively 
spared base of poor Angela's left ass cheek. 

"Oweeee ! Ohh it stings, it stings so, Mummy!" 

Angela reverted to a maternal endearment she hadn't used since she was ten. 
Under the furiously burning torment of that cruel spank, which flattened her 
springy young elastic flesh and let it spring up in the most lascivious way, 
a bright red splotchy outline of the spanking instrument at once being 
inscribed on her warm bare skin. 

"I mean it to sting, you wicked little hussy! Trying to blacken the good 
name of dear Father Edmund by covering up your nastiness with some stupid 
boy." 

Mary Carruthers angrily rebuked Angela with a slap from the leather sole 
which danced from the outer edge of the girl's lower right buttock down over 
the base of the shuddering, inflamed twin hemisphere. 

"Eeeyouuuahhh ! Ohhh, Mummy, pleeeease stop, I'll be good, I was lying, 
honest. Ooooh, it hurts, it hurts!" Angela shrilly and tearfully cried, her 
naked hips lunging madly upwards. 

Instantly her mother released the girl's slim wrists to slide her left hand 
under Angela's loins. As she fell back sobbing and groaning on her mother's 
lap, Angela suddenly gasped and stiffened. Her tear-blurred eyes were 
enormous with shock. Her mother had slyly introduced her forefinger into 
Angela's moist twitching cuntal lips and was frigging them. 

"Ohh - Mummy - wh - what are - owwwouuu, please, I can't stand it!" 

Before she could protest this outrageous palpation of her virgin pussy, her 
mother had smacked Angela wickedly with the slipper sole, straight across 
the tops of her jerking, squirming naked hips. 

Mary Carruthers moved her forefinger towards her daughter's clitoris. The 
instant she attacked that over-sensitized, rapidly burgeoning lodestone of 
Angela's adolescent emotions, the black-haired teenager writhed and began a 
jerky and rhythmic squirming over the maternal lap. 

"Ah ha! You sinful, lying little slut you! To think of it, my own 
twelve-year-old daughter actually getting sexed up from a punishment 
spanking. It just shows how uncontrollable and naughty you've become, young 
lady!" Mary Carruthers continued to scold the sobbing almost nude girl bent 
over her lap, applying a quick little series of sharp crisp swats with the 
slipper all over the tossing, weaving, violently contracting naked 
asscheeks, which drew incoherent babbled pleas for mercy, pathetic avowals 
that Angela wasn't lying and that she would be ever so good if only her 
mother would stop. 

Her face flushed and her ripe breasts heaving with undisguised excitement 
from her lubricious and sadistic handling of her lovely young daughter, Mary 
Carruthers again paused, pressing the slipper tightly over the sinuous 
shadowy crease that separated the flaming asscheeks - and perhaps 
subconsciously reminding the unfortunate young girl that right inside that 
intimate cleft, she had just sacrificed her first maidenhead of three. 

Leaning towards the whimpering child, Angela's mother purred, "Are you still 
trying to tell me it was Father Edmund who gave you that first spanking, 
young lady?" 

"Yes, Mummy dear. Oh, yes, I swear I'm telling you the truth!" Angela, 
hoping that this meant the end of her torment, exhaled tearfully. 

"Well, then," her mother sniffed, "if he did spank your saucy bottom, young 
lady, it could only be because you gave him good reason, which means you 
have this good one coming, don't you now?" 

Before the unfortunate girl could protest her mother's glib and unjust 
logic, Whackk, down came came the punitive leather sole again. 

But, as if to solace her daughter, while at the same time teaching her the 
meaning of guilefully sadistic punishment, Mary Carruthers began to rub her 
daughter's stiffening little clit with rapid, rubbing touches of her 
fingertip, accompanying these with sly little prods and tweaks which sent 
the sweet pink nub disappearing into its hiding place only to bob out again 
more turgid than before. And these lascivious ticklings, together with the 
feverish heat of the spanking which now made poor Angela feel as if her 
naked behind was a single concentrated bed of hot coals, caused the nubile 
teenager to twist and arch her hips in the most scandalously lewd 
contortions, allowing her excited blonde mother to see the pink gape of her 
cunt. 

"You are becoming unmanageable, young lady," her mother at last huskily 
declared, her narrowed blue eyes observing how Angela's scarlet-tinted hips 
weaved and jerked, rising and falling to the tempo of that insistently 
rasping fingertip. "I shall have to talk to your father about your 
naughtiness, Angela. Maybe he will want to send you away to a special school 
where the discipline is harsher than you've been accustomed to with the 
blessed sisters. Now, just to remind you never to lie again, my girl - there 
- and there - and there, will you stop making up wicked stories." 

She punctuated this sermonizing discourse with emphatic, vigorous descents 
of the well worn slipper sole over the lower summits of Angela's already 
flaming buttocks, while at the same time speeding the friction of her hidden 
forefinger on the child's clitoris. 

Despite her suffering, the girl was drawn inescapably towards climax. Her 
previous masturbations and then Father Edmund's frigging of her clit while 
taking the cherry of her maiden asshole had culminated in attuning her far 
beyond her tender years. 

As Angela cried out hysterically under each sonorous spank, her lithe body 
threshed wildly about, and it seemed to her panting, excited blonde mother 
that those violently inflamed smooth buttocks were offering themselves more 
and more lewdly to the very next stroke of the vigorously down-sweeping 
sole. At the very last, the young girl threw back her head and exhaled a 
piercing, raucous cry, then sagged, her body jerking fitfully, bowing her 
head and bursting into frantic tears, a sign to Mary Carruthers that her 
beautiful young daughter had achieved a violent orgasm under the judiciously 
administered chastisement. 

At once withdrawing her hand, she patted Angela's shoulder with it, and in a 
brusk voice, remarked, "Very well now, try to remember the lesson I tried to 
teach you, you wicked girl. Put your clothes back on. Go to your room. I'll 
bring your supper in on a tray after your father and I have had ours." 

Broken by emotion, her bottom burning indescribably, Angela could only emit 
whimpering sobs as she frantically rubbed her swollen naked butt, heedless 
of her immodest exposure of that thickly fleeced virgin pussy and the tender 
insides of her twitching, lithe young thighs. At last, sniffling and rubbing 
her eyes with the back of one soft trembling hand, she very cautiously 
squatted down to slip her twisted panties completely off, since the thought 
of drawing them back up over her burning behind was intolerable. Then, still 
sniffling, her head bowed, she stumbled out of the kitchen to the safety of 
her own room. 

Mary Carruthers uttered a long, shuddering sigh. Then, slyly, she half rose 
from her chair, pulled up her skirt and, sliding her right fore-finger under 
the waistband of her own white nylon panties, began to tickle the fleshy 
pink lips and the hardening bud of her well developed clit till, with a 
groan which she stifled with her other palm, she tasted release from the 
furious lustful emotions which her daughter's punishment had wakened in her 
own furiously ardent loins ... 

 Chapter 6 

For a long moment, the raven-haired adolescent stood facing her bed, her 
hands industriously rubbing and soothing her furiously smarting bottom 
through the thin cotton skirt. Then, with a sob, she moved to the bathroom, 
turned on the light, and, lifting the skirt, turned herself sideways so that 
she could see in the mirror the reflection of Mary Carruthers' harsh penance 
added to what Father Edmund had so shockingly inflicted. She gasped at the 
blazing hue which left not an inch of her voluptuous young behind in its 
immaculate, satiny olive-hued state. The untouched glory of her bare thighs 
made the contrast even more spectacular. 

Holding up her skirt with one hand, poor Angela soaked a washcloth under the 
cold-water tap with the other and carefully laved the swollen globes, 
wincing and squirming, unconsciously performing the most lubricious 
choreography which would have bewitched a connoisseur of femininity far more 
than the most flamboyant hula by an Hawaiian dancer. 

When at last the angry throbbing seemed to have receded, Angela took a towel 
and patted herself dry, again wincing and gasping to discover how 
extraordinarily sensitive her naked behind had become. At the same time, she 
was shamefully aware of new, sensual waves of hot girlish tingling between 
her trembling bare legs. Her face turned as red as her bottom. This 
sensation was what she had experienced while watching her mother and Father 
Edmund on the bed, and then her own father with Betsy, and finally, despite 
the pain of her distended rectal channel, the naughtily thrilling feelings 
Father Edmund had roused counter to the pain by touching her little peepee 
button - for such, till now, was the naive term virginal Angela used to 
describe her own sensitive clitoris! 

At last, when the pain seemed to have subsided, Angela put on a white cotton 
petticoat, her skirt and blouse, washed her face in cold water and dried it, 
and then warily opened the door of her room. Maybe Daddy would console her. 
He was sure to be resting after his overtime work which he'd brought home, 
and maybe this time he wouldn't have had too many drinks so that he could 
talk to her. After all, she knew she had always been his very-special 
favorite. Even though she was an only child, it had always been definite 
that Daddy seemed to treat her much nicer than Mother did - certainly Daddy 
had never spanked her. 

Maybe, too, she could feel him out and find out what was happening. Why was 
it that Father Edmund was coming to visit Mother and had done that awful 
thing earlier today. And also why Daddy was being such close friends and 
doing naughty things with her own girlfriend Betsy. 

Hurrying down the hall and fervently hoping that her mother wouldn't take it 
into her head to come looking for her or to go see Daddy, Angela made her 
way to the room where her father did his advertising work. The door was 
closed, so she tapped softly. There wasn't any answer at first. Her heart 
beating faster and looking nervously down the hall in the direction of the 
kitchen, she knocked a little louder. 

The door was flung open and Fred Carruthers stood scowling, a glass of 
bourbon in one hand, a cigarette in the other, wearing a pair of slacks, 
slippers and an undershirt. 

"Angie ... what's the matter, baby? Come on in. I know, you wanted to visit 
your old dad, is that right?" 

"Y-yes, Daddy." Angela quavered. 

She moved inside the room and he promptly closed the door, took a puff at 
his cigarette and eyed her speculatively, a little grin curving his lips. 

"C-can I talk to you, if - if I'm not bothering you, Daddy?" 

"Sure, my little girl can always talk to her old father. What's bothering 
you, baby?" 

In the room, there was a couch, a table on which a typewriter and stacks of 
paper and proof galleys were placed, a chair and a bookcase. Fred Carruthers 
sat down on the couch and crooked his finger at the flushed girl, who 
lowered her eyes meekly and moved obediently towards him. 

"Sit down right here, baby. Now, what's worrying you?" 

Angela was about to sit down when the sudden hot discomfort of the spanking 
was instantly recalled to her just as she prepared to lower herself beside 
her father. She blushed, straightened and stammered, "D-Daddy, Mommy spanked 
me just now, because I told her what happened to me in church." 

"You make me uncomfortable standing there like that, baby," her father 
grinned. "Go bring me that glass from the table, that's a good girl. So Mary 
spanked you, hm?" 

"Yes, sir." 

Angela moved to the table, noticed that the glass was half-filled and that 
it smelled like whiskey. She made a covert little face as she handed it to 
him. Fred Carruthers lifted the glass in acknowledgement, then took a 
man-sized swig. 

"Ahh, that's good! Now, what did happen in church? And why should your 
mother spank you for going there?" 

"Because of what I told her about what Father Edmund did, Daddy. And I'm 
s-sort of mixed up about what's happening here the last few days," Angela 
blurted, her face reddening even more as she kept her eyes demurely on the 
floor. 

"So what did Father Edmund do that bothered you so much, honey?" 

He nearly emptied the glass, then set it down on the floor. He looked 
speculatively up at her with a funny little grin. 

"M-Mother said I lied about it, but I didn't, honest I didn't, Daddy," she 
said defensively, still not able to look up at him. "He spanked me, too, and 
then - then he did something to me." 

"Oh come on, honey. That's a tall story and you don't expect me to believe 
it!" 

"Daddy, it's true, honest. Only I don't want to get Father Edmund into 
trouble. After I'd confessed, he came out of the booth and - and made me 
come into the sacristy. Then he said I was very n-naughty - and he spanked 
me, honest." 

Angela was ready to cry. She had never looked more delicious, her charming 
face crimson, her long lashes fluttering, her nostrils dilating and her firm 
young breasts rising and falling erratically against her middy blouse. 

Her father reached out suddenly, caught her by the wrist and pulled her down 
on his lap. Angela uttered a squeal of discomfort and squirmed fretfully as 
the sudden pressure of her tender bottom against his sinewy thighs rekindled 
all the heat of her mother's chastisement. 

"Stay still, baby, or I'll spank you myself," her father muttered thickly in 
her ear. "Put your arm round my neck - that's a good girl. Now then, tell 
your old father all about it. We can keep a secret, just the two of us, 
can't we, Angie sweetheart?" 

His sudden affection and the sound of sympathy in his voice persuaded the 
distraught and embarrassed young virgin to confide in her father. 

In a low, faltering voice, Angela began, "He - he said I - I'd been very 
naughty and had to do penance. And then he put me over his lap and pulled up 
my s-skirt and took down my panties and spanked me, Daddy. And after that, 
he - he did something to me. It was awfully wicked, but I didn't know what 
to do. Please, Daddy, I'm so scared, and Mommy's mad at me." 

"He must have had a reason for saying you were naughty, baby. What did you 
confess to him?" 

"Oh, D-Daddy," Angela groaned, squirming uneasily on his lap. 

"I have to know, honey, before I can say that he didn't have a right to 
treat my little girl that way. Come on, just tell your old dad," he urged. 

His arm was round her waist, his other hand was patting her bare knee. He 
had somehow managed to ruck up her cotton skirt just enough to expose an 
inch or two of warm, satiny thigh. 

"All I told him was - was what I'd seen, Daddy. And that I-I - well, I did 
something I shouldn't have, when I saw it. That's all, honest," she managed 
after a hesitant pause. 

His right hand slipped a little higher along her bare thigh, gently stroking 
and pinching the vibrant young, bare flesh. Angela squirmed again, put a 
hand over his, wanting to pull his hand away but without being bold enough. 
After all, it was her own father, and she had turned to him in desperation 
for help in her agonizing quandry. 

"Well now, pet, just what was it you did see that made Father Edmund so 
angry he had to spank my pretty girl?" Fred Carruthers jovially demanded, 
his voice was an insinuating whisper into Angela's dainty ear. 

As his arm tightened possessively round her slim waist, his right hand moved 
still farther under her skirt, to about the middle of her springy-flesh. 

The brunette squirmed again, her face redder than ever, glancing almost 
supplicatingly at his hidden hand under her thin skirt. Then she stammered, 
"I saw him with a g-grownup woman, Daddy. In - in bed - " Angela had, at the 
last moment, resolved not to tell him the identity of that woman, and she 
had also determined not to admit that she had also seen her father with 
Betsy. 

One can conjecture the shocked surprise she felt when, with a lewd chuckle, 
his right hand rising even higher along her bare thigh, Fred Carruthers 
muttered, "You mean, you saw Father Edmund with your mother, isn't that 
right, baby doll?" 

"Ohh Daddy - I didn't mean that. I mean, I - ohhh please - Daddy - I-I 
haven't got any p-panties on. Please, your hand - it - please, Daddy - " she 
gasped. 

She tried to wriggle free of his hold, for by now his roving hand had 
reached the velvety inside of her left thigh only a few inches away from the 
most cherished spot of all. 

"No panties, Angie girl? That's just fine. Remember the other afternoon, I 
told you your Mommy and I had a deal? Well, you're getting to be a big girl 
now, and you're old enough to know what goes on in life, not just what the 
good sisters tell you in class. Understand me, baby?" 

"Daddy - your hand - please - you shouldn't touch me OH NOT THERE, DADDY!" 

With a wail, Angela fairly scrambled off her father's lap. Just then he 
poked a fingertip into the silky black bush of her maiden cunthole. 

"Now you come back here on my lap, you naughty girl, or I'll spank you good 
and hard," Fred Carruthers threatened, scowling at the blushing teenager as 
she faced him, her face scarlet to forehead and ears from the furious 
embarrassment of his incestuous caress. 

"Oh Daddy!" She burst into tears, crushed by the injustice of that threat. 
"Mother already did that to me, and I came here to ask you to help me and 
explain why all of a sudden I'm being punished for nothing, all because I 
happened to see things that weren't my fault at all. Please, Daddy, don't be 
mad at me." 

"I will be, young lady, unless you get right back here on my lap!" 

Sniffling and more confused than ever, lovely, blushing Angela hesitantly 
returned to the edge of the bed. Her father seized her and pulled her down 
on his lap, his arm curving round her waist to hold her snugly to him. Again 
his right hand returned to her bare dimpled knee, sliding under the skirt 
and at once stroking the middle of her warm, palpitating bare thigh. 

"Please don't," she whispered, dying of shame. 

"It's time you got over some of your silly little girl ideas, honey," he 
said gruffly, his penis already throbbing violently at the feel of her 
bottom squirming over his lap. Once again the contact of her well-spanked 
buttocks - protected by only the thin skirt - against his thighs made her 
wince at the excruciating sensitivity it aroused. "Now I want you to kiss me 
nice and sweet right on the mouth because you're my girl!" 

Timidly, her face again flooding with hot crimson, Angela passively offered 
her mouth. Fred Carruthers slid his left arm up to her shoulders to press 
her forward as his mouth hungrily took hers. His right hand delved into the 
thick bush of her virgin cunt. His fingertips tickling the fleshy soft lips. 
Angela's eyes widened enormously, a look of alarm and distress contorted her 
exquisitely piquant face. She tried to wriggle off his lap again, but his 
left arm pinned her tightly as his tongue now pried between her trembling 
lips and tasted her girlish nectar in a long, lecherous French kiss. 

"Mmmmmm - D-Daddy - d-don't - you m-mustn't." she breathed, completely 
scandalized by now. 

Her hands rushed to her skirt to try to grasp his wrist under it and prevent 
his further assault on her intimate parts, but his fingers were too well 
planted, and his forefinger, moreover, had found the lodestone of her maiden 
clitoris and was rubbing it. 

"N oooo ! Ohh please, Daddy - w-why are you doing such awful things to me?" 
she moaned, frantically clutching his wrist with both hands and trying to 
pull it back from its hiding place under the thin cotton skirt. 

"What a sweet little pussy you've got, baby," he said thickly. 

His face was florid with lust and again he silenced her timid outcry by 
gluing his mouth to hers and forcing his tongue deeply inside, slushing it 
about to rasp against her own dainty pink membrane. 

Angela was beside herself, arching and weaving her hips, desperately trying 
to slip off his lap, but unable to. Her nostrils flaring and shrinking, 
Angela clenched her long supple thighs together with all her young strength 
in a supreme effort to prevent his salacious manipulation. But it was in 
vain. His fingertip was rolling and rubbing her clit back and forth. Furious 
waves of tingling sensuality started to invade the young girl's maiden 
loins, already so wildly stimulated by Father Edmund's conquest of her 
nether maidenhead and her mother's burning chastisement. Sobbing softly, she 
could only endure her father's will and pray that he would at last release 
her. 

But Fred Carruthers, reveling in the feel of her moistening, soft young 
cuntal lips, their excited palpitation and the discernible stiffening of the 
button he was tweaking and frictioning with a quicker pace now, had no 
intention of sparing Angela this further maiden martyrdom. His penis was 
violently turgid by this time, and each wriggling movement of her smarting 
bottom over his lap forced her to be aware of his powerful virility by 
continuous prodding. 

She closed her eyes. Her young, firm breasts rose and fell and long spasms 
flexed through her clenched, shuddering thighs as she fought with all her 
might to prevent the shameful surrender to his artful frigging. Her fingers 
still dug into his wrists through her skirt, but made no further attempt to 
drag them away. It was as if she had resigned herself, cowed to this 
mortifying surrender by her dread of another spanking following so swiftly 
after her mother's painful punishment. 

Fred Carruthers, rampant with rut, arched himself to glory in the feeling of 
his stiff ramrod's prodding Angela's jouncy behind. At the same time he 
kissed her greedily and again slipped his tongue between her lips. His left 
arm lowered and stealthily his hand cupped the outer edge of Angela's left 
breast. Her gray-green eyes opened to stare reproachfully at him. Her 
involuntary movement allowed his foraging forefinger to probe as far as it 
could go into her tender virgin vulva till he felt the definitive barrier of 
her cherry. Angela gasped and winced as her daddy jabbed tentatively at it, 
testing its resilience, and then again returned just the tip of that 
wandering digit to frig her burgeoning clit with quick little proddings that 
made Angela writhe and gasp as the waves of licentious attunement began to 
sweep through her well developed young body. 

Suddenly, despite all her feverish attempts to hold back against the 
treacherous inroads of this stimulation, Angela's lithe body stiffened, 
jerked, and her legs kicked wildly to and fro as her bottom weaved and 
ground and twisted all over his lap. 

With a moaning "Ohh, D - Daddy - ohh Lordie - ooooh !" she felt her insides 
churn and the black wave of sweet release roll over her. 

Instinctively, her arms flung round her father's shoulders to steady herself 
from fainting and falling. She bowed her head against his chest and exhaled 
her girlish climax. 

"Ah ha!" Fred Carruthers gloatingly muttered, his left hand lowering to 
squeeze and caress her jouncy buttocks through the thin skirt. "Father 
Edmund was right to make you do penance, you naughty little bitch you! At 
your age, to act so sexy with your old father! I'm ashamed of you, young 
lady! I think you've earned yourself a good, sound tanning with my belt on 
your bare bottom!" 

"Oh nooooo ! Oh don't spank me any more, Daddy. I couldn't stand it, it 
still hurts from Mommy!" she cried out in despair, regarding him with big 
teary eyes, her lips trembling and her beautiful young breasts wildly rising 
and falling in the aftermath of her involuntary orgasm which his cleverly 
frigging finger had brought about. 

"I'll let you off only on one condition, young lady," he said sternly, 
patting her bottom and giving her a lecherous smirk. "Otherwise, you can 
just get over my lap and pull your skirt up high as you can get it." 

"Oh, anything, Daddy. I'll do anything if you only won't spank me more," she 
groaned. 

"All right. I'm going to lie down. I want you to get on the bed and kneel 
before me, Angela," he ordered. 

Suiting action to word, Fred Carruthers swung himself onto the bed on his 
back, tugged the zipper on his slacks and his long, angrily reddened penis 
shot out in all its full erection, the lips puckering with the pentup flow 
of gismic outpouring. Angela's eyes were hypnotically fixed on that object 
which she had already seen in Betsy's bedroom. She put a trembling hand to 
her gaping mouth to suppress the horrified, stifled cry drawn to her lips by 
such an obscene exhibition. 

"I said to kneel beside me, young lady. Or do I have to use my belt after 
all?" he impatiently demanded. 

With a fretful whimper of despair, the blushing, young brunette sank to her 
knees before him, her eyes still riveted to his bulging penis. 

"Now, As I told you before, young lady," he said lazily, his pulse pounding 
as he stared hungrily at the trembling girl. "You're old enough to act like 
a woman. And what just happened to you when I tickled you with my finger, 
you naughty little bitch, is proof of that. So don't start trying to beg 
off, or your bottom will be soundly thrashed till you can't sit down for a 
month, do you understand?" 

"Y-yes, Daddy. Oh why are you so mean to me?" she whimpered. 

"Stop that sort of talk. I told you! Now do you see this, Angela?" 

"Y-yes - " Her voice was so faint he could hardly hear it. 

"Come here, bend your head down, take hold of it with your soft little 
fingers, and give the nice hard red tip a tender loving kiss as a dutiful, 
obedient daughter should," was his next order. 

"OHHHH ! OHH DADDY, YOU CAN'T M ... M ... MEAN THAT!" 

"Then I'll just slip my belt out of my slacks here, and you can get your 
disobedient bottom ready for swats, Angela," he growled, putting a hand to 
the black leather belt. 

With a wail of fear and shame, poor blushing Angela at once crawled to her 
father. Her trembling little fingers gingerly circled his throbbing, turgid 
shaft, and her head bowed down slowly over the proffered glans, bulbous and 
angrily swollen. 

"Kiss it!" he hissed. 

Closing her eyes, shuddering with nausea and shame, the young girl slowly 
obeyed. Her lips brushed the tip of his cockhead and Fred Carruthers groaned 
with delight at the sweet torment that chaste, unwilling kiss shot through 
his groin, nearly making him shoot his seething spunk. 

"Mmmmm, you darling, that's the way. Now keep kissing it and open your lips 
a little and just take the tip inside, Angie baby," he instructed. 

"Oh, Daddy, don't make me do an awful thing like t-that!" the shocked young 
girl stammered, blushing almost all the way down to her panting young 
breasts. 

"Do you want me to call your mother in here and hold you while I thrash your 
naughty behind, Angela?" he scolded. 

"Oh nooo !" she sobbed. 

Conquering her revulsion and despairing shame, Angela bowed down her head 
and forced herself to apply a longer, noisier kiss on the throbbing tip of 
her father's cockhead. 

"Daddy!" She tried a last time to talk him out of forcing her to this 
abomination. "What if Mommy comes in. She - she'll whip me hard if she 
catches me doing this to you. Oh, please don't make me do it any more. 
Please, Daddy dear!" 

"We'll both whip you good if you don't do it right now, that's all I'm 
telling you, Angie," Fred Carruthers panted, half-sitting up so he could 
grip the back of Angela's soft neck with both hands to keep her kneeling 
before his upright, aching cock. "Now you just take it in your mouth and 
suck at it, Angie, the way you would a lollypop, young lady! Do it unless 
you want the belt on your bare seat!" 

Angela's mind was staggered by the enormity of what her own father was 
making her do. She remembered that it was exactly what her girlfriend Betsy 
had been doing to him. Yet the thought of a belt thrashing on her still sore 
bottom was even more dreadful, and Angela's moral code, acquired out of 
parental strictness and the teachings of her dutiful churchgoing, began to 
waver. 

With a helpless sob, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut as if to pretend 
that it was not she who was doing it. Her trembling lips-parted. She groped 
for his cockhead with them till she felt it press against her teeth. With a 
whimper she surrendered, opened her lips still more and felt the spearpoint 
of his turgid weapon enter the sweet virgin sanctuary of her mouth ... and 
thus lost her second maidenhead within the single span of a day! 

"Ahhh, that's nice, darling. Now do it slow and easy," her father panted, 
spreading his thighs as far apart as he could to intensify the thrilling 
lustful sensations of watching her obey and feeling her soft moist lips 
cling to the bulging tip of his prick. "Suck, sweetheart. Suck so I can hear 
you do it, or I'll use my belt. I swear I will, Angie girl. As hard as I 
can!" 

With that Damoclean threat hanging over her quivering, still throbbing 
posterior, Angela cast aside her scruples and applied a noisy, slushing, 
sucking kiss to her father's cockhead. She gagged and jerked away, but his 
fingers bit into her neck to compel obedience as he urged, in a thickened, 
shuddering voice, "Oh no you don't. You tricky little bitch, you just keep 
sucking away if you know what's good for you !" 

Choking and gasping, unused to the taste or size of the noxious tidbit 
inside her trembling and no longer virginal mouth, the girl did her best to 
avert more physical suffering for her still smarting bottom. The way she 
squirmed on her bare knees as she crouched before her father indicated not 
only moral anguish but also continued discomfort from the slightest movement 
of her bewitchingly contoured posterior. Even the thin skirt kept reminding 
Angela of her mother's unmerited punishment. As her muscles contracted in 
this demeaning posture, the sensitivity and tingling in her anus served to 
recall the shocking usage Father Edmund had made of that dainty narrow 
channel. 

"Now start rubbing your cute little tongue over my prick, Angie girl," she 
heard her father's hoarse, lust-thickened voice decree. 

At the same time, his fingers dug into the tender back of her neck, 
imparting the need for instant compliance. With a long sigh of despair, poor 
Angela rasped her pink tongue along one side of the swollen glans and along 
the groove, drawing an immediate groan of ecstasy from her enchanted father. 
To give himself the glorious feeling of being a sultan commanding a helpless 
virgin slavegirl, he released her neck but only to take her earlobes between 
thumbs and forefingers and thus force her head well down over his turgid, 
aching prick, also forcing her with the sudden jerk of his fingers made to 
take even more of his swollen cock inside her gagging mouth. Her eyes rolled 
wildly, her nostrils flickered and dilated as she fought for breath, and the 
singular taste of her father's prick made her stomach gurgle in protest - a 
protest she dared not make more evident. 

Fortunately for her waning stamina before all these ordeals which crowded in 
on her virginal flesh and spirit in the short span of a few hours, the 
excitement she was causing Fred Carruthers proved too much for his self 
control. Suddenly, with a bellow of lust, he cried out, "Get ready and 
swallow me down, you sweet bitch - nowwwww !" and launched a bubbling 
torrent of hot sticky spunk into her mouth. 

Choking frantically, Angela managed to swallow about half of it down before 
he sensed her reluctance. 

"Suck it all up, lick it clean and swallow every drop or you'll get that 
belting, Angie baby!" 

Groaning and trembling, squirming restlessly about on her knees, the 
helpless brunette teenager managed to obey, and at last he released her, 
sinking back on the bed with a delighted sigh of fulfillment. 

"Okay, honey, you did fine for a first time. Now go to your room. Mother'll 
bring you your supper on a tray." 

Her face scarlet, averted from him - for she did not dare look at his now 
drooping, greasied prick sticking out of the fly of his slacks. Angela 
Carruthers stumbled out of the room and made her way back to her own, 
closing the door. Then she flung herself on her bed and burst into heartfelt 
tears of poignant woe, sure that she was damned forever, forsaken not only 
by her own father confessor - and betrayed by him so cruelly - but also by 
her own parents ... 

 Chapter 7 

Half an hour later, Angela languidly opened the door and blushed hotly to 
see her mother carrying a supper tray, which the latter set down on the 
girl's worktable. As she was about to leave, Mary Carruthers looked back and 
said coldly, "When you've finished, set the tray outside and then take a 
bath and go to bed." 

"Yes, Mother. Oh please, Mother - " Angela faltered, wanting to reveal her 
unhappiness and beg her mother's forgiveness. 

But her mother went out, closing the door behind her without another word. 

Angela sat down with tears welling in her gray-green eyes and began to eat. 
Her healthy, voluptuous young body, however, demanded its due and she ate 
ravenously in spite of her despairing frame of mind. Obediently, when she 
had finished, she set the tray on the floor outside, then closed her door, 
took off the skirt, blouse, bobbysocks and loafers and took a shower. She 
energetically soaped her thighs and belly and her firm, tilting breasts. But 
she was cautious not to rub her still smarting ass-cheeks too hard. 

When she finished she looked back at herself in the mirror. She blushed to 
see that the faint pink hue left by the hard spanking still persisted. It 
served to remind Angela of her two unjust chastisements in a single day and 
the wicked things she had been forced to do. It seemed to her that whatever 
her faults, she had been more than thoroughly punished, but she still could 
not comprehend why her own father and mother had turned against her and 
taken Father Edmund's part. Perhaps she ought to have actually told them 
what it was he had done to her after he had heard her confession, but the 
tradition of respect for her own priest was so strong that she knew she 
couldn't have dared to do that. Maybe if she got a chance to see Betsy 
alone, her chum might have some explanation of why all this was happening to 
her ... 

When she had finished the shower, Angela put on a yellow cotton shortie 
nightie which descended to the middle of her long, sleek, satiny thighs. 
Then, feeling very woebegone, she crawled into bed and turned out the little 
lamp beside it. It was earlier than she had gone to bed since she was ten, 
but her mother's explicit order had left the menacing hint of further 
spanking if she disobeyed. At last, her mind jumbled by the inexplicable 
things that had been happening to her and not finding a solution to her 
countless questions, Angela finally fell asleep - an enchanting picture of 
forlorn innocence, her black hair tumbled over one soft, tearstained cheek, 
lying or. her left side, an arm flung out as if in supplication. 

But it was not a dreamless sleep. Somehow, Angela found herself walking down 
a dark narrow street faced on each side by empty buildings whose black 
windows stared down at her. She heard herself calling out for her father to 
come guide her. Out of nowhere, a black-robed figure appeared, his face in 
shadows, and took her by the wrist and led her slowly into one of the 
deserted buildings ... 

Angela sat up, perspiring, her heart pounding wildly from the nightmare. 
Slowly, she got out of bed and went to the bathroom for a drink of water. 
Her throat felt dry and her head throbbed with a headache from the fright 
the strange dream had caused. Then, out of an impulse she couldn't explain, 
she walked into her closet. The mumble of voices came faintly to her. With a 
gasp, she very carefully dislodged the chunk of plaster and peered through 
the hole in the wall into her mother's bedroom. 

Angela's eyes widened and she came fully awake. Father Edmund in his black 
robe was seated in a chair and, on the bed, their backs to her, sat her 
father and mother. Her father had on just his bathrobe and slippers and her 
mother wore a black lace-trimmed satin slip. Her father's arm was tightly 
round her waist and his other hand was cupping one of her full breasts. 

"Did she tell you anything, my dear Mary?" she heard Father Edmund ask. 

Mary Carruthers giggled. 

"She didn't dare tell everything, Father. Oh, you should have seen that cute 
little bitch try to weasel out of the spanking I gave her bare hind end! She 
said you took her into the sacristy and did things to her, Father. Isn't 
that killing?" 

"A most delightful and naive child, your daughter." The priest chuckled 
softly. "But her body is that of a woman, as I'm sure you both know 
already." 

"That it surely is, Father." Fred Carruthers spoke up, winking at his wife 
and putting his free hand in her lap to press against the plump mound of her 
pussy. "I think this hurry-up course in, shall we say, sexual education is 
paying dividends. It was right clever of you to think of it, Father Edmund." 

"Not at all. It's certain to pay dividends for all of us, if we keep her off 
guard and constantly faced with new penances. Most refreshing of all is her 
absolutely unspoiled innocence. Her mind, you see, is so sheltered that 
these things come as a great shock which she can hardly accept or believe, 
and each new time they occur to her will make her react that much more 
delightfully." 

"Then you think, Father dear," Mary Carruthers spoke up eagerly, "that if 
Fred and I make her do naughty things against all her previous teaching, 
she'll have to obey because she's been brought up to be an obedient daughter 
?" 

"Oh to be sure. And she will go on confessing and struggling with herself at 
her own surprising reactions each new experience. You see, my daughter, this 
struggle will enable all of us to control her and shape her into servicing 
our desires. Of course I needn't remind you again of the vigilance we must 
all show in her regard. That is why I urged you to take her best friend 
Betsy into your confidence, Fred." 

"Yes indeed, Father." Fred Carruthers grinned lecherously. "I'm sure glad I 
took your advice. That sexy little redhead is even livelier than Angie when 
it comes to making a man get hot nuts - if you'll pardon the vulgar 
expression, Father." 

"I must investigate that child's proclivities myself, I'm thinking," the 
priest smiled. 

Suddenly he sat erect in the chair, and put a finger to his lips. 

Angela, who had heard all this with growing disbelief, had suddenly tried to 
put the chunk of plaster back into place, only to drop it with a noisy thud 
on the closet floor. 

"What is it, Father?" Mary Carruthers asked, arching her plucked eyebrows. 

The black-robed priest had put his finger to his lips, and now, tapping 
them, shook his head. 

"Just a minute, I want to see something." He moved closer to the bedroom 
wall. "Ah, I begin to understand a good many things. Would you look at 
this?" 

Fred Carruthers followed the priest to the wall, and then swore under his 
breath. 

"Why the little bitch! So that's how she saw you and Mary, is it now!" 

"Exactly, my son. I think we had better pay her a little visit." 

Angela had scurried back to bed and pulled the covers up to her neck, trying 
to pretend that she was fast asleep. The door was flung open and Mary 
Carruthers led the way, with Fred and the priest behind her. 

"Sleeping, is it!" Fred Carruthers sniffed. "Wake her up, and we'll soon get 
to the bottom of things!" 

"With a hairbrush this time," Mary vowed grimly as she bent to the bed in 
the darkness. "Well, Fred, turn on the light. Use your brains!" 

"Gently, my daughter, we must all be calm," Father Edmund sanctimoniously 
urged. 

The table lamp was turned on, and Angela lay on her left side, eyes closed, 
holding her breath. Mary Carruthers looked back at her husband and the 
priest, then drew back her right hand and delivered a mighty swat against 
the delectable posterior shaped out by the covers which Angela had drawn 
tightly up against herself. 

"Owww !" the teenager squealed, rolled over, and slipped out of bed, rubbing 
her bottom and looking scared and tearful. 

"Take a look in the closet, Fred," Mary Carruthers commanded. 

"Look at this!" her father exclaimed, holding up the telltale chunk of 
plaster. "There's a big peephole in there, and she must have seen everything 
the afternoon you called, Father!" 

"Come along with me, young lady," Mary Carruthers righteously ordered as she 
urged her unhappy daughter with several stinging, forward-driving slaps of 
her right palm against the tender bottom which the thin nightie hardly 
protected. 

"Owww, oh please, Mother. I'm going, I'm g-going - oww ! It hurts!" Angela 
sobbed, as her mother led her into the adjoining bedroom. 

"Now then, Angela, you're going to tell the truth for a change," her mother 
declared as the priest and her father faced the trembling girl. 

With this, she lofted the nightie to bare the still vividly reddened oval 
buttocks, and, applied two vigorous spanks, one to the ripest curve of each 
velvety buttock. 

"Owww! Oh please don't spank me any more, Mother!" Angela wailed, trying to 
twist loose. 

Her mother dragged the nightie over the girl's head to blindfold her. Angela 
cried out as she felt the front of her nubile young body exposed to both her 
father and the priest. She tried to pull the nightie down. 

"Hold her hands, Fred," Mary Carruthers sharply ordered. 

He at once complied. 

Mary Carruthers inflicted half a dozen noisy slaps on Angela's weaving, 
wriggling naked behind. 

"Tell the truth! Were you spying on us through that hole in the closet? 
Answer me, young lady, or I'll have your father use his belt! Answer me!" 

"Ahrrr - oww - yes - yes. I did look through there, but I couldn't help it. 
Please stop, Mommy!" Angela pleaded, trying to swerve this way and that, in 
order to avoid the barrage of stinging slaps which restored all the original 
fires of her earlier spankings to her satiny bare behind. 

"A shocking admission, my misguided daughter." Father Edmund approached the 
almost naked young sufferer, his eyes detailing the heaving turrets of her 
pear shaped titties, the sweet dimpled niche of her bellybutton, and the 
thick silky black bush which marked her bewitching young maiden cunthole. 
"To spy is a detestable practice, my child, and it calls for severe 
penance." 

"A good sound thrashing, Father?" Mary Carruthers eagerly proposed. 

"No, my dear daughter. As you can tell, she has already been punished in 
that childish way. But since she aspires to learn what her betters and 
elders are about, it is only fitting that she be initiated into all the 
mysteries. Now, as you know, I was the first to introduce her to the devious 
pleasure of gluteal penetration. There remains, I should say, the oral and 
pelvic areas - " 

"Er - not quite, Father," Fred Carruthers broke in with an apologetic cough. 
"You see, just before supper, Angela learned how to use that talkative mouth 
of hers." 

"A pity. But then, she still has her primal purity." 

"That's true, Father." Fred Carruthers nodded, winking at his wife, who 
continued to keep hold of Angela, her other hand patting the cringing bare 
seat of the sniffling and now really terrified young girl, while her father 
grasped her wrists in front of her and greedily stared at her bared titties, 
belly and cunt. The nightie remaining draped over her tearful, scarlet face 
as an effective blindfold. 

"Then I think it would be quite appropriate for the child's dear mother to 
prepare her for the supreme mystery," the priest gently suggested. 

"Father!" Mary Carruthers blushed and looked down, with a girlish little 
giggle. 

"Go on, Mary, I'm dying to watch you at work," her husband muttered. "Here, 
I'll get Angie ready - off comes the nightie so we can all see our sweet 
girl ready for her first night of love!" 

Angela at once clapped both hands over her pussy and huddled there, tears 
glistening in her eyes and staring aghast at the trio who surrounded her. 

"What are you going to do to me? Honest, I didn't mean to spy - the plaster 
fell out and - " 

"Forget the plaster, my child. You have come of an age when you are to 
become a woman. I know, inside your mind are all sorts of questions and you 
are afraid to ask for answers. But from now on, I promise you, all will be 
made clear to you. Let your mother instruct you, my child," Father Edmund 
said soothingly. 

"You do what I say, young lady, or I'll let Father Edmund whip you himself," 
her mother threatened. 

The naked young girl could only throw herself on their tender mercies. 

"D-don't spank me any more, I'll do whatever you want, Mother," she 
sniffled. 

"Now that's a good girl. All right, go lie down on the bed, dear," Mary 
Carruthers purred as she began to pull off the black satin slip. 

Angela's mother stood naked except for a white satin-elastic garterbelt with 
tabs that hooked to the tops of beige nylons. Her sandals, she kicked off 
and, preening herself before the two excited male witnesses, ran her hands 
appraisingly down her body. Her soft pink skin was warm and youthful. Her 
figure, though lush, was still capable of arousing desire, as was at once 
indicated by the glitter in the eyes of both the priest and her husband, as 
well as the sudden surging of their organs. Then, with a soft little laugh, 
she moved to the bed, clambered onto it and, turning on her left side 
towards the trembling naked teenager, who still kept one hand tightly 
pressed against her pussy and used the other arm to shield her rapidly 
surging breasts, murmured, "Now, Angela dear, Mommy forgives you. Be nice 
and turn over and kiss me and promise to be a very good girl now." 

"Oh, Mommy," Angela whispered, her eyes tightly closed, her thighs 
instinctively clenching, "not - not in front of Daddy and - and Father 
Edmund. Please, Mummy!" 

"Obedience to one's parents is the sure way to the kingdom of heaven, my 
child," the priest said. 

His face flushed and his eyes glowed and narrowed as he studied the two 
contrastingly enticing naked females on the wide bed. 

"Do you want your father to take his belt to you and Father Edmund too, 
Miss?" Mary Carruthers sharply whispered back. "Now you just roll over and 
face me and behave!" 

There was no help for it. With a tremulous sigh, the teenager docilely 
complied, though she kept one soft trembling hand protectively clamped over 
her one remaining maidenhead. Her blushes swept to her temples and ears as 
she felt her mother's hands cup both her titties and squeeze them lovingly. 

"What darling tits," the opulent blonde matron huskily murmured. "If I were 
a man, I'd eat you up, Angela love! Now put your arms round me and give me a 
nice, sweet, obedient kiss to show Father Edmund what a well behaved girl 
can do. Quickly now, no sulking or arguments, young lady!" 

Remembering all too well the stinging fury of the leather sole against her 
still tender bottom, Angela falteringly obeyed. Her left arm tentatively 
circled her mother's waist as she proffered her soft little mouth. Keeping 
her eyes shut she kept her right hand clamped over the thick black fronds of 
her bush. 

Mary Carruthers sighed sensually as her mouth fused with Angela's. Edging 
forward, she mashed her round, lush titties against her daughter's firm 
satiny pears. Her plump thighs merged against the lithe slim satiny columns 
of Angela's flexing, tightened thighs and her hands moved to cup the girl's 
titties and squeeze them lasciviously. Her thumbpads prodded Angela's coral 
nipples till they began to turgify and palpitate with tumescent awakening. 
Feverishly, the naked young captive moaned, "Ohh, Mommy, I-I'm so ashamed. 
Don't let them watch. Please, Mommy, please." 

But Mary Carruthers was imbued by the fierce lust of a perverse incestuous 
excitement. Ignoring her daughter's last poignant appeal to spare her final 
virginity she said, "Shut up and kiss me nice, Angie, or I swear I'll spank 
your bottom raw." 

Fitfully shivering at the warm concupiscent feel of her mother's naked body 
against her own, poor Angela comprehended the harsh reality which uprooted 
all her past scruples and swept aside even conscience. The menace of 
physical suffering overcame her innate chastity. With a sob, she abandoned 
herself. Her mouth opened to accept Mary Carruther's moist hot, prolonged 
kiss and she gasped as she felt her mother's tongue dart expertly inside. 
Her right hand moved around to squeeze the girl's flinching, still reddened 
bottom. Her left hand kneaded one firm tittie. Mary Carruthers began to woo 
Angela as if they were both dedicated lesbians. 

"What a beautiful sight, to see such tender concord between mother and 
daughter, my son," Father Edmund muttered to Angela's father, who had 
stealthily sneaked his right hand inside his bathrobe and was delicately 
frigging himself, taking the swollen head of his prick between thumb and 
forefinger and performing a gently "milking" action back and forth which 
made the dark, angry veins knot and bulge against the tautly drawn skin of 
his erect shaft as if ready to burst through. 

Mary Carruthers' hand clamped over the huddling oval buttocks of the 
shivering naked brunette, right over the sinuous cleft which led the way to 
that first hymen which had fallen sacrifice to Father Edmund's potent 
manhood. Her left hand glided over the girl's belly, only to encounter the 
trembling little hand clamped so despairingly tight against Angela's 
apprehensive quim. 

"Take that hand away, young lady, and feel my tittie," she hissed into the 
girl's ear. "Do what I tell you to, or you'll be sorry!" 

"Oh, M-Mommy, I feel so ashamed," Angela groaned, tears running down her 
scarlet cheeks. 

Timidly she lifted her shielding hand to her mother's swelling ripe-round 
tittie and patted and caressed it. 

"Mmm, that's right, dear. Now just do what your mother says, and you'll be 
fine," Angela's mother coaxed. Her voice was trembling with excitement as, 
pressing her palm hard against Angela's quaking bottom, Mrs. Carruthers 
began to frig Angela's soft, pink cuntal lips with her left forefinger. 

At the first sly rub of her mother's fingertip against the twitching petals 
of her cunt lips, Angela's naked body jerked convulsively, her eyelids 
fluttered open. With a choked, horrified, incredulous "M-Mommy - ohhhhh - " 
she announced her awareness of the salacious maternal caress. 

But her mother's palm, bridging the quaking hillocks of her tender behind, 
pressed even harder as Mary Carruthers wantonly ground herself against the 
olive-sheened nakedness that had emerged from her own ardent womb. Stifling 
Angela's new outcry with a sucking, hot, eager kiss, Angela's mother began 
to tickle the rims of Angela's cuntal lips round and round till at last she 
attacked the budding clit and rolled and pressed it back down into that soft 
virgin pussyflesh. 

Wildly conflicting sensations seethed through the teenager's flesh. Her 
breath quickened and she felt her mother's tongue again delve between her 
parted, trembling lips, she clutched both her mother's heaving round lush 
titties as a drowning man clutches at a straw for safety and surrendered 
herself to the multiple lewd urges that began to permeate her young flesh. 
Angela's hips jerked spasmodically as her mother's finger, with scienced 
feminine understanding, plied her clit with quick little touches and 
rubbings. As the two men watched, it seemed as if Angela's lithe bare hips 
were jerkily executing a kind of coital rhythm. The front of Father Edmund's 
black robe was obscenely thrust out at the region of his crotch, and Fred 
Carruthers had by now opened the folds of his bathrobe to give his agitated, 
swollen prick free rein as his left hand now cupped the gnarled hairy sacks 
of his testicles and stimulated him to the monumental moment which lay ahead 
and to which all these preliminary scenes had been but artfully contrived 
prelude. 

Beside herself from the cumulating wave on wave of hot thrilling 
lasciviousness that surged through her thighs and loins, Angela had twisted 
her scarlet, contorted face away from her mother's and had begun to gasp 
out, "Ohhhahh - M-Mommy - oooh - ahhh - ooohh, Mommy d-dear, ohh, ahhh !" in 
the most tremulous and vibrant tones, music which stirred the excited male 
onlookers to furious anticipation. 

"Now put your hand on my pussy and tickle me the same way, honey," Mary 
Carruthers hissed into the trembling naked girl's ear. 

Her forefinger flattened the throbbing nodule of Angela's wakened, tingling 
clit and her other forefinger slyly slipped into the shadowy groove between 
her daughter's well spanked bottom globes. 

Angela moaned and squirmed, but her mother's finger nudged the puckering 
dainty pink lips of her asshole, making her jerk forward till her titties 
flattened against Mary Carruthers' heaving round breasts. Her skin was 
prickled and rippled by constant neural fluxions, the hot waves of 
sensuality spreading throughout her wakened young nervous system. Angela's 
left hand fondled one of those maternal mammaries from which she had drawn 
nutritive suck in infancy, her other hand stole down her mother's belly to 
the abundant dark blonde bush which ran from the lower abdomen down and 
round the perineal groove, some soft sprigs fleecing her mother's plump 
asshole. 

"Ahh, that's it, dear. Frig me," Mary Carruthers moaned, her tongue darting 
between Angela's lips again, her two forefingers playing both Angela's cunny 
and asshole with frictioning caresses. 

Shuddering, half-dazed by all the conflicting new sensations churning inside 
of her, the raven-haired teenager gasped and moaned as her forefinger began 
to frig her mother's fleshy cuntal lips. The girl's intuitively apt touches 
had been instilled in her by her own onanistic knowledge long before her 
first day and night of wakened and shared passion. 

"Ooooh, yes, honey," her mother squealed as Angela's finger began to waken 
her own frantic lusts. "Rub my button too, honey. Ohh, you precious lambie 
you!" 

To reward her naked daughter for her obedience, Mary forced the tip of her 
forefinger in between the tender, shrinking lips of Angela's quaking asshole 
and worked it in to the knuckle. 

"Ohhhh Mamma - ooohh, what are you doing to me - ohhhh?" Angela's voice rose 
into a sobbing squeal as her asscheeks contracted violently, seeking to 
expel the profaning digit. 

Then, in an excess of sensual excitement which entirely dispersed all her 
already waning inhibitions and made her momentarily forget that her own 
father and the priest were avidly watching, her naked body merge in lesbian 
cohesion with her mother's. Angela thrust her finger deep into Mary 
Carruthers' vaginal sheath and her own quivering pink tongue into her 
mother's mouth to rub frenetically against the blonde matron's flickering 
tongue. A galvanic current of sensual electricity glued the two naked 
females together. Mary, with a sobbing groan, linked her free arm round the 
girl's waist and energetically rolled her over atop her. 

"Rub your sweet little pussy against mine, baby," she exhorted Angela in a 
slurred voice, making her imbedded forefinger work back and forth inside 
Angela's no longer maiden asshole. 

Aroused as she was already, the lovely naked young brunette began to feel 
tingling pleasure in the distension of her narrow young rectal sheath. Her 
pussy ground against her mother's in a convulsive wriggling spasm which 
activated her entire body. Her mouth glued to her mother's, their tongues 
rapiering back and forth in a hot duel of desire. Her own right forefinger 
returned to Mary Carruthers' cunt. Digging and rubbing wantonly about, her 
other hand squeezing one of her mother's swollen breasts, Angela began to 
rub herself like a cat in heat over her mother's carnation-tinted naked 
body. 

"A glorious vision, is it not, my son?" Father Edmund hoarsely asked of his 
conspiratorial male aide, putting his hand down to pinch his bulging ramrod 
through the black robe as if to bid it be patient till the moment had come - 
though judging from his glittering eyes and flushed face, the time was 
imminent. 

"That it is, Father," Fred Carruthers agreed in an unsteady voice, his 
gleaming eyes followed the gyrations of Angela's reddened oval buttocks as 
the girl rubbed herself to and fro against her mother's welcoming loins. 
"Don't forget to suck her and get her ready for me, Mary girl!" he called. 

"Wait a bit, Fred honey," Angela's mother panted, "I'm so close, I want the 
sweet bitch to cream me down. Just be patient, darling!" 

"It's hard to do that when I see what's there on the bed. So make Angela 
finger your clit off," the raven-haired girl's father instructed, beside 
himself with impatient lust. 

"Angie, sweetheart, put your finger on my little button. That's a darling," 
Mary Carruthers passionately pleaded, arching herself to the lithe naked 
teenager's wriggling body which ground pussyhairs to hairs and chafed the 
already moistening lips of her mature and avid cunt. 

Her own forefinger remained imbedded to the hilt inside the girl's 
bottom-hole, working in and out up to the tightening ring of agile sphincter 
muscles. Angela, moaning and trembling feverishly from the siege of her 
girlish emotions, had been drawn past the Rubicon of inherent modesty and 
chastity. A fiery wave of passion suffused Angela's loins, hardened her dark 
young nipple buds. 

With a sobbing groan, Angela probed with her finger till it prodded the 
blonde matron's well developed clitoris. She began to ply it with frantic 
rubbings and rollings. 

Mary Carruthers, moaning aloud now in her approach, began to buck and thresh 
under Angela, clamping her pink thighs over the girl's. She glued her mouth 
to Angela's as the supreme moment grew upon her. 

With a prolonged, raucous cry, Angela's mother announced the fruition of her 
arousal, her head lifting over Angela's bare satiny shoulder, her eyes 
rolling and humid, the soft ripe mouth gaping in her proclamation of 
shattering climax. Her body threshed so wildly that she nearly unhorsed her 
lithe, young rider. Then, in a slurred, husky voice, she told Angela to roll 
onto her back. 

The naked girl did so, her face flushed, her beautiful hard-tipped titties 
rising and falling in violent turbulence as she sprawled back, the ruffled 
black silky bush between her widened thighs drawing the hypnotically fixed 
stare of both furiously roused men. 

At once Angela's mother got to all fours and crawled between Angela's 
quivering thighs. Bowing her head as her fingers gripped the teenager's 
sleek bare hips, she began to tongue her daughter with loud sucking moist 
sounds as lips and tongue merged in an oral adoration of the young virgin 
temple of Venus. 

The sensation was so unique and powerfully compelling that Angela uttered a 
shrill "Ohh !" and arched her loins up till her pussylips fairly mashed her 
mother's avidly attentive mouth. Angela's soft, little hands clenched into 
fists. Her face twisted from side to side, contorted and scarlet with 
frantically aroused emotions. and her bare toes curled eloquently to 
describe the sweet bliss-torture her virgin cunt was undergoing. Fred 
Carruthers came closer to the bed, pinching his prickhead with right thumb 
and forefinger to hold back the violent urge to burst forth all his essence. 
The priest himself moved to the foot of the bed, gripping the board with 
both hands till his knuckles whitened as he lost not an iota of the exciting 
scene which combined lesbianism and incest in the most exquisitely 
titillating way. 

"Is she close, is the sweet little bitch close, Mary?" Fred groaned, his 
eyes feasting on his daughter's heaving titties and on the restless way her 
raven head turned back and forth on the rumpled pillow. 

"Yes - oh Fred, she's got the juiciest, sweetest little pussy I ever tasted. 
Just a little bit more and she'll be ready for her daddy," the blonde matron 
gasped. 

Her hands slid under Angela's tossing buttocks to control the sobbing, 
frantically wriggling naked girl as her tongue jabbed at the burgeoning 
clit, pressing it back into the tasty, soft, pink love-flesh. Angela uttered 
a wailing cry, lunged with both hands for her mother's head and twisted her 
fingers into Mary Carruthers' blonde tresses, lifting up one bare knee and 
swinging it hugely to one side. 

It was too much for Fred Carruthers. 

"That's enough, Mary, she's ready as she'll ever be for her first fuck!" he 
panted, flinging off his robe and clambering into bed. 

Reluctantly his lush, blonde wife moved away on her knees, her hands cupping 
and molding her swelling round titties as she watched her husband prepare 
for Angela's final maiden martyrdom, that transfixing transition which would 
turn Angela from chaste teenager into sage young woman knowing all the 
triple ways of man's pillaging of her maidenheads. 

"Baby, you don't know how long I've wanted to do this to you," he moaned as 
he settled himself over the squirming naked girl, his hands gripping her 
shoulders to prevent her escape, his bony prick rubbing against her velvety 
inner thigh, then prodding her soft, thick bush. 

"Wait a sec, Fred lover. You don't want to get the sweet little bitch into 
trouble," his wife chided, leaning over to the night-table, opening the 
drawer and taking out a package of French ticklers, one of which she swiftly 
extracted. "Here, I'll put it on for you, honey. After tonight, I'll put 
Angie on the pill and then you can enjoy the feel of your great big hard 
dick packed tight in her sweet little pussy! You too, Father, I'm sorry to 
say." 

"Of course, my daughter. I shouldn't condone getting the obedient little 
darling into trouble," Father Edmund sententiously offered, trembling with 
impatience for his turn. 

With a muttered oath of frustration, Fred Carruthers knelt while his naked 
blonde wife crawled to him and, giggling softly, bent her head to apply a 
kiss on his throbbing prickhead. Then she fit the flesh-toned rubberized 
condom with its loops and whorls along the shaft and the tip over the 
edifice of his furiously turgid spear. 

"There. Now it'll tickle Angie ever so sweetly when she feels it all the way 
past her cherry, Fred lover," she urged him. 

During this pause in the proceedings, Angela had raised her head, staring 
with glazed, widened eyes at the trio of carnal conspirators whose plans it 
had been to entrap her into the sacrifice of her sweet innocence. But by now 
the uncontrollable tremors that raced along her trembling naked thighs, the 
tingling neat which could be seen as her coral cuntal lips palpitated and 
twitched from the skillful tonguing Mary had inflicted, and the dark stiff 
points of her lovely nipples announced that by this moment only the concerns 
of her fully awakened young, ardent flesh imbued her now. 

Angela saw the French tickler, like a second skin stretched tautly over her 
father's prick as he knelt before her, then lowered himself onto her. She 
put a hand over her eyes and turned her crimsoning face away. She had just 
seen Father Edmund's contorted, intense face staring at her from the foot of 
the bed, and, most shocking of all, observed that he had cast aside his 
black robe and was naked save for shoes and socks! His prick was even larger 
than her father's in breadth, though hardly any longer. The glans seemed 
more oblong than pointed as her father's was. Feverish curiosity now entered 
into Angela. For the first time, she was witnessing the male penis in 
gigantic readiness as it prepared to immolate her maidenhead on the altar of 
lust! 

"Be gentle with the sweet girl, Fred dear," Mary Carruthers huskily 
whispered, remaining on her knees at the head of the bed and to the left of 
this thrilling conclave. 

Her left forefinger was buried in her moist pink cunt. Her right hand 
tenderly and narcissistically caressed one of her heaving breasts. Her eyes 
were fixed on Angela's face with a kind of poignant envy and tenderness, as 
she herself comprehended out of maternal instinct how monumental this moment 
truly was for lovely young Angela and recalling her own very first girlish 
initiation to the onus of the male prick. 

"I will, Mary. I will, don't worry. Now, Angie baby, put your arms round 
your daddy and hug him tight," Fred Carruthers huskily urged, his hands 
avidly kneading Angela's panting pear-shaped titties. 

Timidly Angela obeyed, keeping her eyes shut. But this was out of a new kind 
of modesty. What shamed her was being seen by Father Edmund. Irrelevantly, 
the thought flashed into her distracted mind of how she was going to be able 
to confess what was going to take place to this man who had discarded the 
garment of the priest-confessor. 

However, Fred Carruther's overweening passion interrupted this reflection, 
for he had pressed the tip of his sheathed prick against the moist twitching 
pink cleft of Angela's tender cunt. She uttered a startled gasp, lifting her 
head, while her fingernails dug into her father's sinewy shoulders. Her 
thighs tensed, for she had no knowledge of what demands this first-time 
ordeal would make upon her untutored flesh. 

Thoughtfully her father muttered, "Relax, baby, I'll take it slow and easy. 
Just you hold onto Daddy and kiss him hard if it hurts the least bit!" 

With this, he fused his mouth on hers. At the same instant he thrust forward 
the tip of his weapon, prodding the resilient membrane of her hymen. Angela 
started at the faint twinge which signified that her virginal days were 
virtually at an end. Her thighs instinctively clenched and her fingernails 
scored his upper back as her eyes widened and rolled, questioning him. But 
the feel of his maleness weighing down her quivering, satiny naked body was 
a thrilling and new sensation. It occupied her during this prelude to the 
breaking of her cherry, thus sparing her the mental anguish many another 
less enlightened virgin would have experienced. 

The spankings after her having witnessed the priest and her mother and then 
Betsy with her father, during both of which eavesdropping episodes she had 
masturbated to achieve relief from the feverish tensions these scenes had 
provoked in her tender young pussy had attuned her, whether she realized it 
or not. Now her mother's oral and lingual preparation of her pussy for her 
father's priapic distension and conquest had brought her step by physical 
and sensual step to the abyss from which there was now no turning back. 

Fred Carruthers slid his hands under her bottom, gripping the firm satiny 
warm cheeks with greedy triumph, tasting his daughter's flesh and prepared 
himself. Taking a deep breath and wanting to spare the quivering young naked 
girl as much pain as was possible, he drew back, then thrust forward. 
Angela's startled cry was muffled by his mouth, which followed hers as she 
tried to turn her face this way and that as he tightened his grip on her 
jerking, bucking, weaving bottom. 

The hymen had given way. With another edging dig, Angela's father felt 
himself totally absorbed, deep inside his own daughter's narrow and now 
unmaidened cuntsheath. With a groan of delight, he immobilized himself, 
feeling the quaking contractions of Angela's vaginal walls. Under the swift, 
hot spasm of momentary pain, the naked girl had flung both legs over his, 
straining him to her. Her fingernails were raking his back, leaving bright 
pink weals to attest to the involuntary shock which she had experienced. Her 
eyes were feverishly widened, staring at him. He felt her hot breath fan his 
face, as he thrilled to the nibbling and kissing her cuntwalls were applying 
to his impaling spear, a feeling which threatened to make him burst 
violently, and it took every ounce of will to hold himself back from that 
premature catastrophe. 

Slowly drawing back to the very brink of Angela's soft, moist cunthole, her 
father slowly forced himself back in to the balls. The naked girl whimpered, 
"Ohh, Daddy - ohhh - " 

Her arms locked around him with a feverish urgency as she closed her eyes. 
It was as if she had abandoned all save the intensified guidance of her own 
wakened young body and determined to learn all the nuances of what fucking 
was truly like. Her face had a rapt look to it and her eyes were closed. Her 
nails scrabbled at his perspiring back as he shifted himself in her warm 
saddle, enjoying the spasmodic clutchings which her vaginal walls inflicted 
on his probing prick. 

Her mother, meanwhile, devouring the spectacle, continued to frig herself 
and to cup and fondle her breasts, each in turn, while Father Edmund, 
gripping the bedrail with both hands and without moving, stared with a fixed 
and unwavering rapture, his thicker penis erect and jiggling with frenzied 
arousal. 

Then Angela's father began to fuck her with consistent, regular cadence - 
pulling back to the brink, hovering there a moment as she squirmed, then 
shoving back into the balls in an unbroken, rhythmic penetration. The whorls 
and knobs and curlicues studding the French tickler had begun to do their 
work. Angela moaned fitfully and writhed, sometimes raising her knees in the 
air and swinging them to and fro clenching them together, then yawning 
widely as if wanting to taste the finite sensation which his perforation of 
her maiden cuntsheath was procuring her wakened young loins. 

But his own excitement at watching his wife prepare his own daughter for 
conjugal consummation told against Fred's powers. Quickening his lunges, 
Fred Carruthers began to thrust in and out of Angela's cunt with jerky 
movements, panting and gasping like a fish out of water as his self-control 
ebbed away ... and then with a last desperate shove, impaling her to his 
balls, he uttered a yell of ecstasy and sagged over her sprawled naked body. 

Now Angela had her own forbidden secret - she had lost her cherry to her own 
father, before the eyes of her mother and her priest! 

 Chapter 8 

As Fred Carruthers, exhaling a contented sigh of fulfillment, rolled off his 
daughter's sprawled naked body onto his side, Angela's opulent mother, clad 
only in her garter-belt and beige nylons, hurried to the bathroom for a wet 
towel and returned to sponge Angela's unvirgined pussy. Then she opened a 
decanter of brandy, poured a generous portion into a snifter glass and held 
it to the trembling, naked girl's lips. 

"Take a good sip, darling," she said. "It'll bring back your color and your 
strength ... how does my sweet girl feel, now that she's a woman?" 

"All - all r-right, M-Mommy," Angela whispered, as her mother put an arm 
round her shoulders and helped her sit up. 

Then she blushed as she saw her father lolling on his side near her, 
grinning at her. Her eyes scanned his limp penis in its condom-sheathed 
diminution. 

"Oh my g-gosh !" she gasped, realizing the full immensity of what had just 
happened. 

"Does it hurt any more, honey? Here, take another sip, it'll do you a world 
of good," Mary proposed. 

"N-no, not anymore ... it did a little at first, when ... when Daddy broke 
... inside me ... you know," Angela whispered, her face flooding with 
embarrassed scarlet. 

Again she had just seen the naked priest standing at the foot of the bed, 
devouring her with avid, glittering eyes. 

"That's my girl. But it'll be all over now, you'll see, sweetheart. And 
you'll be able to have lots of fun with all of us. Tomorrow you'll start 
taking the same pill I used to keep from having babies," Mary Carruthers 
avowed. Then, giggling, as she glanced at Father Edmund, she said, "Excuse 
me, Father." 

"Quite all right, my daughter," he hoarsely rejoined with a chuckle. "When 
I'm visiting the closest friends I have among my faithful flock, I don't 
stand on the strictest ceremony." 

"Thank you, you're so understanding, Father. That's why Fred and I knew it 
would be all right to work this little gathering out, of course. And now, 
after the child has rested a little, Father, I'm quite sure you'll be very 
pleased with her." 

"I know I shall. After all, we're not exactly strangers, my daughter," the 
priest winked knowingly. 

"That you're not, Father," the opulent blonde matron giggled again. "Here, 
I'll finish the brandy. Ahh, that hit the spot. Now, Fred dearest, shall we 
have a little fun? It might encourage the dear child to be more at her ease 
with Father Edmund." 

"Great idea, Mary girl." Fred Carruthers grinned lewdly. "Just wait till I 
go to the can and take this raincoat off and put another one on - oh, that's 
right, I won't need it, will I, with you?" 

"Yes you will, darling. I'm just dying to feel what a French tickler does to 
a girl, and you only just bought them, Fred Carruthers," Mary teasingly 
responded. "Be off with you and hurry back. I don't mind admitting I'm the 
least bit sexy after all this. Angela, dear, are you rested now?" 

The raven-haired girl nodded. Her mother had propped up two pillows behind 
her head. Angela wriggled back so that her head might rest on them. She 
could thus glance down at her own nakedness. She could see that the black 
thatch of her bush was moist and fluffy, thanks to her mother's sponging her 
off. The lips of her pussy smarted just a little, but there was also a 
wonderful glowing feeling inside of them ... and even in her bottomhole, 
where her mother's finger had widened the tract first ploughed by Father 
Edmund's massive cock, a gently throbbing sensation seemed to make her want 
to squirm and twist about even though she knew the priest was looking right 
between her long bare legs. The fiery glow of the brandy she had sipped 
added its own aura of well-being. 

"Good. Then I'm going to let Father Edmund come to bed with you, dear. But 
don't be afraid. Your father and I will be right beside you, to help if 
you've the least worries. I'm sure dear Father Edmund loves you just as much 
as we do, sweetheart," Angela's mother gushed as she lay down on the other 
side of the bed. 

By this time, Fred Carruthers had emerged from the bathroom, grinning at the 
sight of his wife and daughter lying naked on the bed. His dormant penis 
began to stiffen all over again, thanks to that dual inspiration. He took 
one of the condoms on the night table and fitted it slowly on his cock, 
while his blonde wife, propped herself up on one elbow and watched with an 
excited smile, her free hand slyly stroking her lower belly and from time to 
time brushing the thick dark-blonde curls of her luxuriant bush. 

"Here, Father, help yourself," Fred Carruthers called as he tossed the 
condom packet to the priest. 

Father Edmund slipped off his shoes. Turning his back to the bed, he swiftly 
adjusted one of the French ticklers onto his swollen penis. Then naked but 
for his socks, he sat down on the edge of the bed nearest blushing Angela 
and reached out a hand to stroke her bare knee and said gently, "Now, my 
child, this will not be in penance, but of your own free will. Isn't that 
so, dear Angela?" 

Angela glanced nervously at her mother and father. Mary lay back, knees well 
up in the air and spread, reaching her arms out to the man whose stiff penis 
had conceived Angela some fifteen years earlier. 

Fred Carruthers ran his hands lingeringly down the insides of his wife's 
thighs, then tickled her fleshy moist cuntal lips. Mary looked at her 
blushing daughter. 

"Don't be bashful, darling. You're a woman now, just like me. But with your 
good looks and youth you'll be attracting handsome men like Father Edmund 
for many years more than I shall. Invite him to come into your arms and 
between your lovely long legs." 

"If you want to, Father Edmund. I-I guess it-it's all right," Angela 
stammered, now that the fateful moment had come. 

With Daddy, it was one thing. But she was blushing almost down to her 
rapidly swelling titties at the thought of having the priest do it to her 
while Daddy was doing it to Mother. 

"I'll be very gentle with you," Father Edmund murmured thickly as he edged 
closer to the naked young brunette, his hand caressing the inside of her 
right thigh, descending to the knee and back upon the velvety smooth surface 
of warm naked flesh. Angela's eyes fixed on his roving hand and little 
tremors raced up and down her bare legs and made her catch her breath and 
her heart beat faster. 

She glanced at her naked mother. Fred Carruthers had bent his head to 
implant a noisy kissing salute to his wife's plump cuntal lips. At once Mary 
pulled him up to mash his hairy chest down against her swelling titties as 
he drove his condom-snugged prick deeply inside his wife's vaginal sheath. 

"Ohhh, Fred, it's lovely!" the blonde matron moaned, eyes shining and very 
wide. "I know why they call them French ticklers now. Oh, give it to me 
hard, darling! Angela, make Father Edmund happy with you, dearest! And if 
you want, you can hold my hand while he fucks you!" 

"F-fucks me, Mummy?" Angela naively repeated. 

"Ahh yes, darling. That's what we say when a man puts his big cock into a 
woman's pussy. Oh Fred, don't hurry. Work me up. I'm just so randy I can't 
help myself!" Mary feverishly moaned, distracted by her husband's quick 
in-and-out maneuvers inside her ardent cunt. 

Father Edmund had mounted the bed and was on all fours looking down at the 
shivering, blushing, naked teenager, trying to force a kindly smile to his 
trembling lips. 

"My child, put your arms round my neck and kiss me sweetly," he softly 
urged. 

Closing her eyes and unable to stop blushing, Angela meekly obeyed. As she 
felt his mouth come down on hers, she also felt the rubber coated hard 
length of his prick rub along her belly and groin till at last the tip 
prodded the silky bush of her cunt and found the dainty orifice with 
unerring aim, then slipped just inside the narrow lobby. She jerked fitfully 
at the tingling sensations which her second fucking had kindled all along 
her young vaginal chasm. 

"Is she nice for you, Father?" Mary Carruthers looked at the priest with 
humid, dilated blue eyes, her legs now tightly locked round her husband's 
hairy calves as she supported the full brunt of his weight with his prick 
hilted inside her churning cunt. 

"Ahhhh, she's - she's exquisite," the priest panted as he carefully lowered 
himself over Angela, who, keeping her eyes very tightly shut, had docilely 
linked her supple, satiny arms round his neck, while leaving her thighs 
passively parted to grant him access. 

His mouth now merged with hers. Angela learned at once the difference in 
male kisses. Her father's had been harsh and exacting, selfishly lustful, 
whereas the priest's lips were almost as soft as a woman's, gentler, more 
insinuatingly suave, moist and tender. He seemed to suck at her mouth as if 
quaffing nectar, as a bee might honey from the petals of a budding flower. 

As he kissed, Father Edmund's prick slid slowly in till at last Angela gave 
a little gasp to realize that he was burrowed in her to his very balls. The 
sensation of stretching and its resultant friction against the sensitized 
mucous membranes of her vaginal walls began to rekindle all the singular 
titillations which at first had made her a little frightened because of 
their intensity, but which now she began almost to anticipate because of the 
warm delicious glow that throbbed all through her being. 

"Hold my hand, darling," her mother crooned, extending her right hand out to 
the naked girl. 

Angela nodded, blushed more hotly than ever, and groped with her left hand 
till she found her mother's fingers and interlocked them. The priest, 
meanwhile, kept up his soft suctioning kisses while his well-manicured hands 
stroked her quivering sides and hips and thighs, gradually learning the 
voluptuous young glories of her young svelte satiny body. 

His surprisingly gentle movements considerably eased what pangs might have 
remained from the initial rending of Angela's virgin cherry; also, 
psychologically, his compassionate appreciation of her lovely, nubile, young 
naked body lessened her anxiety. Undoubtedly the presence of her parents 
beside her did much to diminish her confusion over committing what surely 
must be mortal sin ... for Father Edmund had always preached thunderous 
sermons on the evils of the sins of the flesh ... and surely, were these 
things she was obliged not to do? But the pressure of her mother's fingers 
bade her forget such considerations. And besides, as Father Edmund continued 
to push in and out of her tender young cuntsheath with no apparent 
greediness to hasten his own climax, Angela began to sense infinitely 
complex new sensations which were entirely those devoted to the 
gratification of the flesh. 

Her right arm locked round his shoulders. His left forefinger slipped down 
to tickle the rims of her cunt and then to find the adorable little bud of 
her clit and press it lightly. Angela gasped with undisguised pleasure at 
this thrilling contact. For a moment she opened her gray-green eyes to stare 
into his flushed, smiling face. 

"Am I hurting you, my sweet child?" he muttered. 

"N-no, Father - " 

"What a lovely, affectionate creature you are, Angela! How grateful I am to 
your wonderfully intelligent parents for permitting me to aid you in your 
maturity," he unctuously praised her, all the while his fingertip rubbed her 
burgeoning clit. 

"Oooh - Father - it - it tickles so much when - when you do that," she 
confided in a tremulous, husky tone that enchanted him with her delicious 
naivete. 

"Then I shall do what pleases you, my child," was his panting reply as he 
silenced her with another soft, sucking prolonged kiss and began a slightly 
quicker in and out passage inside the narrow confines of her churning young 
cunt. 

Angela was feeling the convulsive squeezes of her mother's fingers. Fred 
Carruthers, a finger imbedded in his blonde wife's contracting asshole, was 
thrusting in and out as if his very life depended on it. Mary's face was 
flushed and taut with the nearness of her yearned-for climax. 

"Ohhhh, Fred, it's so good - ahhh - oooh, try to hold out all you can, 
darling! Ohhh, Angela, is Father Edmund making your sweet pussy happy too?" 

"Y-yes, Mother. Oohh - " 

The priest, remembering his first glorious knowledge of the delectable 
teenager's maiden charms, had slyly pressed another finger against the 
shrinking rosette of her asshole, whose tight and constricting measure his 
swollen prick had first taken to begin this unforgettable day of maiden 
sacrifices to the urges of the male flesh. Angela's hips arched up, her eyes 
opened very wide, and her fingernails clawed at Father Edmund to announce 
the sudden burning, throbbing urgency which now began to gather in the 
innermost recesses of her being. 

"Ohh Fred, now, now, shoot it into meee." Mary Carruthers suddenly squealed 
as a vigorous hilting of her husband's swollen ramrod clashed their bellies 
together. 

His forefinger worked in to the knuckle inside her quaking anal canal. She 
tore her hand away from Angela's, grabbing for her husband's shoulder, and 
glued her mouth to his as, shifting her nylon-sheathed plump thighs, she 
bucked and ground herself madly to him to draw forth the earthquake of hot 
come. 

With a cry of rapture, Fred Carruthers announced his time had come and his 
wife simultaneously rocked and twisted with him, jostling Angela and Father 
Edmund in the fury of the their mutual release. This seemed to incite the 
priest to accelerate the pace of his thrusting inside young Angela's 
throbbing cuntsheath. As his finger worked in and out of her sensitive young 
asshole and the other forefinger returned to rub her hardened little clit, 
Angela was shaken by a mighty wave of sensuality. 

Her head flung back, her hands clenched into fists, she began to pound at 
his back as the spasms came upon her ... with a groan, the priest quickened 
himself and dug to the hilt, then stiffened and almost sobbingly called out 
his rapture: "Ohh, my daughter, my sweet daughter, give yourself fully now. 
Ahhh - ohh, Angela, my daughter, my darling - ohhhh !" 

His mouth sucked one of the girl's pink-tipped nipples as he gave up his 
essence. Angela felt the convulsive jet which the skin-tight thin condom 
withheld from her womb and yet manifested itself in the thrilling surge 
along the sensitized walls of her cunt. Then sweet hot darkness rolled over 
her and she unknowingly threshed and arched to her father-confessor as her 
very first womanly climax ended the most instructive, unexpected and 
thrilling day in all her tender young life... 

Mary and Fred Carruthers tenderly relinquished their embrace and the blonde 
matron got off the bed and helped the priest resume his black robe while her 
husband hurried off to the bathroom. Father Edmund was not unappreciative of 
her more mature charms, judging from the way his hands cupped both her big 
round titties and his lips merged with hers in a kiss of gratitude. 

"My,daughter, I am profoundly grateful to you for this hospitality and this 
way of becoming, as it were, a part of your intimate family. Rest assured, I 
shall continue my guidance of dear little Angela, and we shall be in close 
communication, never fear." 

"Thank you, dear Father Edmund," Mary blushed and lowered her eyes like a 
schoolgirl. Slyly she reached out to give his still stiff cock a loving 
squeeze of farewell through the thin black robe. "We'll all see you in 
church tomorrow, then. And perhaps you'll have supper with us tomorrow 
night?" 

"It will be my pleasure. Ah, the little darling looks asleep ... I fear 
today has been a trying one for her, but it has ended most happily for all 
concerned." 

"Oh, yes, Father. A good night's sleep and she'll be her radiant self in 
church tomorrow. Good night, Father." 

 Chapter 9 

Fred and Mary Carruthers lifted their naked, exhausted daughter and carried 
her tenderly into her room and put her to bed. They went back to their own 
bedroom - this time, Fred Carruthers' room - so that their precocious only 
child would have no chance to eavesdrop again. Soon they were renewing the 
ardent cohesion they had begun while the priest was bringing Angela to her 
initial girl-come. 

A good night's sleep sufficed to restore Angela's vitality. When she woke 
with a yawn and stretched her arms up in the air, Angela blushed to remember 
vividly all the things that had happened to her the day before. Glancing at 
the little alarm clock beside her bed, she realized it was time to get up, 
get dressed, have breakfast and then go to church. 

She put on her white cotton dress with a modestly low skirt that fell to her 
upper calves, flesh-toned nylons which were rolled over elastic garters, a 
new pair of panties and matching bra, and her white slip, then her best 
pumps, and was combing her hair before her mirror when the door opened and 
her mother, in a blue satin housecoat, brought in a breakfast tray. 

"Good morning, darling! How do you feel? Did you sleep well?" 

"Fine, Mommy," Angela murmured, turning and rising respectfully, but she 
couldn't help blushing furiously as her mother's blue eyes intently scanned 
her. 

"My, how lovely you look for church today, dear! I fixed you your favorite 
breakfast, pancakes and scrambled eggs. That's because you were a good, 
obedient girl last night. Take your time. Your father and I will eat, and 
then we'll walk over to church. I'll call you when we're ready to leave." 

"Thank you, Mother," Angela quavered as her mother beamed, then left the 
room. 

The lovely teenager discovered that she was ravenously hungry, hardly 
realizing that ardent copulation has that tendency to create the craving for 
sustenance ever to override the twinges of conscience. At her tender age, 
Angela could scarcely have heard the old Latin proverb of "Post coitum 
animacule triste est" (all animals are sad after coitus). 

Half an hour later, the Carruthers family occupied one of the front pews, 
for Fred Carruthers contributed a large tithe and was proud of his support 
of spiritual values. He beamed as the handsome priest stood in the pulpit 
and preached a sermon on the danger of the sin of pride, pointing out that 
it was through humility alone that man could save his soul from perdition. 

Angela listened attentively, her face downcast and meek, though at moments 
when she raised her eyes, it frequently occurred that Father Edmund was 
looking straight down at her. Once Angela thought she saw the ghost of a 
smile flicker over his soft, sensual mouth. Twisting her fingers in her lap, 
she felt herself blushing and hoped her parents wouldn't notice. 

When the services were over, her parents lingered to congratulate Father 
Edmund on his sermon and to remind him that he was invited for supper at six 
o'clock. Angela stood behind them, still twisting her fingers nervously and 
lowering her eyes with a demure modesty that went well with the lovely white 
attire she had donned. As they were ready to leave, Father Edmund turned to 
her. With a benevolent smile, asked, "Did you like the sermon, my child?" 

"Yes, Father. It-it was very nice," Angela mumbled, her face flaming. 

"She listened very attentively, Father," Mary Carruthers beamingly put in, 
giving her daughter an admonishing nudge with her elbows in the ribs. "You 
can explain it some more at supper, as I know Angela is dying to learn all 
she can about obedience and humility - aren't you, darling?" 

"Oh, yes, Mother," the brunette teenager hastily rejoined. 

Father Edmund took her hand and squeezed it. 

"It delights me, my child, to see that one so young is already impressed by 
the homely virtues of doing good. I shall be happy to explain the parts of 
my sermon to you after supper tonight at your house, my child." 

The Carruthers family walked home, with Fred expatiating on the uplifting 
sermon that had been preached, to which his wife put in an admiring, "Oh, 
yes, Fred, he's a fine upstanding man, such a credit to the faith!" 

Angela kept silent, but now in the cold light of reality and broad daylight, 
the young girl began to ponder over all that had taken place, and for the 
first time, soberly, counter-questions began to pose themselves in her mind. 
Mostly, it was about the evils of the sins of the flesh, a topic which had 
formed the theme of several of Father Edmund's most glowingly eloquent 
sermons in the past. And then the confession: she had been made to do 
penance for the sin of playing with herself and of watching naughty things 
being done by others. Yet it was very strange that Father Edmund himself 
had, last night, praised her for doing some of those very things right in 
front of her parents, to say nothing of what her father had. done to her in 
front of Father Edmund and apparently with his blessing. It seemed to be a 
glaring contradiction, and yet to whom could she turn to question the right 
or wrong of all this, if not her own parents and the priest? It was all very 
puzzling, and Angela begant to have misgivings about her conduct throughout 
this Easter vacation weekend. 

Perhaps if she had a chance to see Betsy all alone and talk things over, 
girl-style, she might find out about some of the things that most puzzled 
her. For one thing, of course, how it happened that her father had known 
Betsy well enough to make her do naughty things with him, and even like 
them. 

* * * 

It was a little after three when Angela awoke from her nap, having slept in 
her bra and panties. Since the weather continued to be warm, she tugged on a 
pair of jeans and a blue polo shirt, slipped on a pair of yellow anklet 
socks and her loafers, and left the house. Her parents were in her father's 
bedroom - she discovered this by the simple means of peering through the 
crack in the closet wall and seeing that her mother's bedroom was empty. 

At Betsy's front door, she rang the doorbell, and in a few moments Betsy 
herself opened it. Her red-haired chum was wearing black satin pajamas and 
mules. Angela's eyes widened with surprise. She hadn't known that Betsy had 
such a fancy, expensive pajama set. 

"Is it all right if I come in, Bets?" she asked warily. 

"Oh, sure, Angie! My aunt's out of town. She's going to stay with her cousin 
for at least another week, so we can have the whole house to ourselves." 

"Betsy, where did you get those terrific jammies?" Angela wanted to know as 
she followed her friend to the latter's room. 

"That's a secret," Betsy giggled, looking back and winking broadly. "It's 
for sure my aunt didn't buy them for me." 

"Oh come on, Betsy, tell me," Angela childishly persisted. Then, as a flash 
of intuitive cunning seized her, "I'll tell you a secret if you'll tell me 
yours." 

"Oh? Well, we'll see. Come on in." 

Betsy opened the door to her bedroom, and Angela gulped as she remembered 
how she had tiptoed down the hall to this door and found it just ajar and 
seen her own father doing things to her best friend. 

"Now then, what's on your mind, Angie?" 

"I-I just wanted to come see you, that's all, Betsy." 

"Uh uh. You wanted to tell me a secret, didn't you?" the redhead prompted 
with a teasing little smile. 

"Maybe - but what about your telling me how your aunt let you wear those 
snazzy jammies - " 

"Mmm ... I just might, if you'll tell me your secret first," Betsy 
countered, sitting tailor-fashion on the bed and regarding the raven-haired 
teenager with the look of a cat that had swallowed the cream. 

"Promise, word of honor, you won't ever, ever tell, not anyone, not even in 
church?" Angela begged. 

Betsy made the sign of the cross over her left breast, enticingly outlined 
by the cling of the green satin pajama tops. 

"Uh huh. Now tell," she urged. 

"Well," Angela took a deep breath. "I-I saw Father Edmund - and - and Mommy 
- they were in bed together Friday afternoon, when he came to visit us. 
There's a hole in my closet and I-I watched. Oh, Betsy, I couldn't believe 
it - " 

"Why not?" to Angela's stupefaction, her red-haired chum drawled, "he's a 
terrific looker, you know that, and the girls just about cream in their 
panties when he gets up close to them." 

"But-but-he-he's a priest, Betsy!" 

"He's a man too. Hmm, is he ever!" Betsy giggled, rolling her eyes as if to 
suggest firsthand knowledge. "Did you tell on him?" 

"I tried to tell my folks - only - then - oh my gosh, I'm so mixed up, 
Betsy. You have to help me!" 

Betsy reached out a compassionate hand and patted the brunette's flushed 
cheek. 

"Relax, Angie. Sure I'll help you. Tell me everything now." 

"Well," Angela took another deep breath, her face flaming. Averting her eyes 
from her friend's now intent gaze. "I went to ask Daddy what I should do, 
and - and he had had lots of drinks, I guess, and he - he tried to feel my 
legs and my titties." 

"That's all? And you were scared? You big silly!" 

"Oh no, there's lots more! Yesterday, when I went to confession, he - I mean 
Father Edmund - took me into the sacristy and he sp-spanked me. And then - 
then he did the same thing to me he did to M-Mommy !" 

"You mean he fucked you, Angela?" 

"Ohh, Betsy!" Angela was red to her dainty earlobes. 

"Well, did he?" 

"Yes. But he did it to my - my b-bottom !" 

"Oh, that's buggering, then," Betsy wisely declared with a sly giggle. "Did 
it hurt the first time, Angie honey?" 

"Yes. Sort of - only he - he tickled my pee pee spot and - " 

"You mean your pussy or your cunt, don't you? Then say so. And I'll bet he 
tickled your cute little clit, your button too, didn't he, Angie? Come on. 
If you want to know where I got my jammies, you have to tell me everything!" 

Shamefaced, the raven-haired teenager nodded, still looking down at the bed 
so as not to encounter her friend's mockingly amused stare. 

"Well, well. So little Angie isn't virgin any more, is she? And what else 
happened?" 

As she spoke, Betsy calmly began to take off the pajama tops. She was naked 
to the waist, her ripely developed titties swelling voluptuously as she 
preened herself, her hands stroking the back of her head and eying Angela 
with a taunting look. 

"B-Betsy!" 

"So what! I'm showing off my titties! Now, why don't you slip off your 
things and let's get comfy, and I'll tell you my secrets too," Betsy 
proffered as she wriggled out of the pajama bottoms and flung both garments 
to the floor. 

Angela shivered at the sight of the thick, dark-red fleece between her 
friend's palecreamy thighs and the pouting, dusky aurolae that centered 
Betsy's lush young breasts. The aura of lascivious mystery began to permeate 
her against her will and at last, blushingly, Angela slipped off jeans and 
polo shirt, remaining in bra and panties and anklet socks. 

"What else happened at your place?" Betsy at once insisted. 

She began to stroke her pussy and the insides of her plump thighs. 

Angela's eyes fixed on that soft roving hand and her blushes intensified. 
Trying not to look, she stammered, "When I got home I wanted to tell Mother. 
She scolded me for getting my dress all mussed and - and then she spanked me 
awfully hard - and - and when I went to Daddy to find out why I was being 
punished for nothing, he - he paddled me too and then he - oh, Betsy, I 
don't dare tell!" 

"You can't stop now. If you do, I won't ever tell you my secrets. So there! 
Come on, Angie, what did your daddy do?" 

"You promise you won't - " 

"I said so, didn't I? Come on now!" 

"All right - he made me kiss his - his thing - " 

"His prick or his cock, don't you mean? Is that what he made you do? And did 
you, Angie?" Betsy excitedly pursued. 

Angela was dying of shame to have to recite these salacious facts so openly, 
even to her best chum. 

"Yes ... but oh please, don't you ever breathe a word to anybody. I know it 
was wrong. But he made me. Oh, what am I going to do, Betsy?" 

"But that was Saturday, huh? And that's not all that happened yesterday, was 
it, Angie? Come on, don't hold anything back. Aren't I your best chum?" 

Against this pitiless logic, Angela Carruthers had no recourse. Desolate and 
abandoned as she now felt herself, it was vital that she retain at least 
Betsy's friendship and aid. 

"No. Lots more," she breathed, half-fearful of revealing the rest. 

"Well?" 

"Then I took a nap, and when I woke up, I could hear them talking in 
Mother's room. And when I looked, Father Edmund was there too. And then - 
then they came in and took me into the room and - Daddy had me - after 
Mother had used her m-mouth on my pussy." 

"She sucked you and got you hot for a fuck, isn't that right? A real fuck 
with your daddy's cock in your little cherry pussy, right?" Betsy 
remorselessly turned the dagger in the wound. 

"Y-yes," Angela moaned, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear them of the 
tears. "And then Father Edmund - he - he did it to me too. And I heard them 
say they were going to keep me and use me as their - their slave girl. All 
of them, Betsy. What am I going to do?" 

"My goodness, you had a terrific sexy day, Angie!" Betsy heartlessly 
giggled. "Only, there's one thing you forgot, isn't there?" 

"I-I don't think so," Angela innocently shook her head, her cheeks still 
flaming. 

"Oh yes there is. Didn't you come over here after you peeked in on your 
mommy and Father Edmund and didn't you stand right outside the door here and 
watch me?" 

"OHHHHH ! ! ! BETSY!!! YOU ... YOU KNEW?" 

"Uh huh, I sure did. And so did your daddy too, you naughty little frigger 
you. Don't think we didn't guess you were tickling your pussy till you came. 
And you did, didn't you Angie?" 

"Oh Betsy. But how - how did you get to know Daddy?" 

"Silly little bitch. How'd you think I got these jammies? Uh huh, your 
father's had a yen for my snatch ever since he met me, only it took him long 
enough to get around to making a play for me. Look at you. Your mouth's 
gonna catch flies if you keep it open so long!" Betsy giggled, for Angela's 
mouth was gaping and her eyes were enormous with shocked incredulity. 

"But - but your aunt - " 

"Gosh sakes, Angie. She's practically deaf and blind. Besides, she doesn't 
care so long as I don't get into trouble. She gets dough for taking care of 
me from my folks' bankroll, so she doesn't bug me. Anyhow, when I want, I 
can always check in at a motel and nobody'll know who fucks who!" 

"Oh my goodness!" Angela was aghast at this astounding revelation of her 
father's sinfulness, and still more so over the fact that it had been going 
on far longer than she dreamed. 

"Know what you need right now?" Betsy brought her back to reality, putting 
out a hand and cupping one of the brunette's firm young pear-shaped titties. 

"W-what?" 

"Please. I've been wanting to have fun with you for a long time. Now that 
you're not cherry any more, you'll like it lots. Besides, I got something 
terrific to show you. Tell you what, I want to get some Pepsis. We're all 
out, so I'll go call the grocery store to deliver a couple of cartons and 
you peel off all your duds, and I'll be back and. show you what a dildo's 
like for fuckin'." 

"A dildo?" Angela echoed blankly. 

"You'll see. It's when a girl gets randy and there's no fellow around to 
service her good. Go ahead, get bare now. I'll be right back soon as I phone 
the store." 

Betsy winked, then left the bedroom. The bemused young brunette slowly 
removed anklet socks, panties and bra, then stretched out on her back on the 
bed, timidly clapping one hand over the black thatch of pussy-curls in a 
gesture of habitual modesty, though by now all her ideas about so 
puritanical an attribute were being impossible jumbled. 

Betsy returned in a few moments, naked as the day she was born. Scrambling 
onto the bed, she dug under the pillow to take out a flesh-toned plastic 
hand vibrator and a curious object that looked like a male penis in full 
erection with dark veins and gnarled testicles. It was attached to a 
web-strap belt she calmly fitted around her hips. Pointing to the formidably 
wide tip, she giggled. 

"See? That's what a dildo is, a fake prick, Angie. But boy, does it feel 
great when it fucks a girl's pussy. I'll show you. Only, first let me try 
this little gadget on your pussy to warm you up." 

"Oh Betsy, I don't know. I'm afraid - " 

Angela shrank back, putting both hands over her menaced love-center as her 
red-haired friend picked up the vibrator, flicked on the battery lever and 
set it to whirring. 

"Take your silly hands away. You aren't cherry any more, so don't play being 
innocent cherry now, Angie honey." 

When Angela reluctantly drew her hands away, Betsy knelt beside her and, 
putting her left hand oil one of Angela's satiny titties and fondling it 
lovingly, approached the glans-like tip of the hand vibrator towards the 
brunette's cunt-fleece, playfully engaging it against the ruffled thicket of 
pubic hair before suddenly brushing it against the dainty pink cuntal lips. 

"Oooooooh, that tickles. Ooooh, B-Betsy !" Angela squealed, drawing up both 
knees and clamping them together with all her might. 

"Will you behave! I'll spank you if you don't. Now you spread your legs all 
you can, and put your hands behind your neck. And don't dare take them away, 
you hear? There now, just see what this is like and then I'll fuck you good 
with my dildo. My, isn't it even bigger than your daddy's cock?" Betsy slyly 
teased. 

As Angela reluctantly obeyed, Betsy applied the vibrator against the 
twitching, gaping pink cuntal lips and made a slow circle, rimming them, 
while Angela writhed and moaned, her hips beginning to weave slowly to and 
fro in tempo with the stimulation which seemed to invade all the crannies of 
her cunt with a tingling heat, very much like what had happened when her 
mother had prepared her for her first fucking. 

Angela began to whimper, then to turn her flushed face restlessly from side 
to side as Betsy attentively pursued her deft ministration. But when the 
redhead aimed the vibrator's tip to the nodule of Angela's clitoris, the 
brunette squealed and jerked wildly from side to side as if trying to evade 
the furiously exacerbating` sensation. 

"Stop that, silly! You just say there and relax till I'm ready for you," 
Betsy scolded, putting her left forefinger to her own pussy and slowly, 
delicately frigging herself as she returned the vibrator to its exquisitely 
sensitive target. 

Closing her eyes, Angela writhed and groaned, her fingernails digging into 
the back of her soft neck as the goading stimulus of the vibrator began to 
rouse maddening sensations that swirled and churned to the depths of her 
young, newly wakened cunt sheath. Her bare toes curled and clenched, her 
heels scuffed the rumpled sheets of the bed till at last she sobbed, "Ohh, 
I'm going to faint if you don't stop. Ohhh, Betsy, pleeeeeeeeeease, ooooooh, 
it's tickling me to d-death!" 

"Yes, you're ready now for my big cock, darling. My, you should see your 
clit. It's sticking out just like a prick ready for action. And your pussy 
is open a yard wide and all drippy-squishy with cream," Betsy huskily 
detailed her friend's tumescence. "Now, spread those legs and keep them 
spread. I'm going to fuck you till you spill it all down to me." 

Betsy stationed herself between the brunette's long shapely bare legs, 
adjusted the tip of the artificial prick against the gaping pink inlet, and 
then mounted Angela, grabbing the brunette's titties and forcing her lips on 
Angela's panting mouth to silence any outcry as she slowly, forcibly, thrust 
home. 

"Mmmmhhh - mffhfhfhahghghgh - ohhhhhh!" Angela moaned, finally twisting her 
mouth away from her chum's. "Ohhh, it's tearing me wide open, I can feel it 
stretching meeee. Ohh, Betsy, take it out of meeeeeee !" 

"Oh no, you'll love it pretty soon. Wait till I start really fucking your 
tight little hot pussykins, Angie," Betsy crooned. 

Then, slipping her hands under the brunette's shuddering bare bottom and 
gripping the ovals possessively as a man might, the naked young redhead 
began to imitate the age-old rhythm of fucking, and drew back, then thrust 
the dildo home, drew back, then hilted it again in a steady, probing rhythm. 

Angela's hands clutched her friend's dimpled creamy shoulders. Her face 
contorted, her eyes were bulging and glassy as all the tempestuous yearnings 
of her young cunt sheath began to surface, thanks to the preparatory 
attunement of the vibrator. 

"Kiss me too, and use your tongue," Betsy passionately exhorted, giving 
Angela's buttocks a good hard squeeze. 

"Mmmm - ahh - ouuuu, Betsy. Ohhhh, you-you're driving me crazy," Angela 
sobbed, her bare legs finally wrapping over Betsy's as the persistently 
delving artificial cock began to draw her towards the inescapable abyss. 

"So! This is what we find our naughty daughter doing, is it?" a man's 
resonant and unctuous voice broke in upon Angela's chaotic thoughts, 
compelling her back out of the ecstatic void of lustful sensation which was 
absorbing her. 

Vaguely, her staring eyes turned towards the door, and then she uttered a 
shriek. 

"Betsy, stop - ohhhhh, Betsy, it - it's Father Edmund. Take it out of 
meeeeeee !" 

Betsy at once knelt, pulling the dildo out of Angela's quaking vagina, and 
winked at the priest in his black robe. 

"Hi, Father! You spoiled it for poor Angie. She was just about ready to 
cream down!" 

"That can be arranged, my child. You've done well. Now then, Fred, if you'll 
get ready, I think we can both satisfy this wicked sinner's inordinate 
fleshly desires." 

"D-Daddy!" Angela wailed, sitting up and covering her pussy with one hand, 
crooking her other arm over her heaving titties. 

Her father scowled as he took off his sweater and then his pants, standing 
naked in socks, having scuffed off his shoes. 

"I see my little girl has become a tattletale. Instead of confiding in your 
mother and me, or in Father Edmund, you apparently consider it proper to 
discuss the secrets of the family with an outsider like Betsy. I'm 
disappointed in you, Angela dear." 

"But - but, Daddy," Angela was consternated by this treachery on Betsy's 
part, "she told me about you and - I mean - " 

"Certainly she did, because I told her to. And she probably told you also 
that we both knew you were peeking in on us the other afternoon and, 
disgusting to relate, playing with yourself, when you knew that was a sin. 
Well, you received penance for that wrongdoing, my girl, but today certainly 
tops it, don't you agree, Father?" 

"Indeed, yes, my son. Angela deserves chastisement, the kind she will 
remember for a long time. Betsy, suppose you hold that naughty child till we 
are ready for her," the priest said as he stripped off his robe, kicked off 
his shoes and was naked again in socks. 

Angela uttered a frightened cry and tried to get off the bed, but the naked 
redhead at once grabbed her by her titties and pulled her back. Then Betsy 
rolled Angela over onto her belly and sat astride her waist, playfully 
applying a few stinging slaps to the brunette's temptingly upreared bottom 
which left flaming splotches of her palm's imprint on the smooth, 
palpitating bare flesh and drew pathetic cries from the helpless girl, 
wordlessly shocked by her best friend's perfidy. 

Fred Carruthers got onto the bed, made a sign to Betsy, who at once put her 
hands to Angela's buttocks and yawned them open, disclosing the furtively 
shrinking lips of the brunette's dainty anus. The priest handed him a tube 
of Vaseline and Angela's father industriously anointed his swollen organ 
down to the balls, then dabbed his stickied forefinger over the girl's 
spasming bottomhole. 

"Hold her like that, Betsy honey, or I'll paddle your hind-end good and 
hard," he warned. 

"Ohhhhh Daddy. No, no, please not that!" Angela wailed, at last 
understanding only too well what penance awaited her for her naive 
confidence in sneaky red-haired Betsy. 

But Fred Carruthers, in furious rut, ignored that poignant plea and, 
gripping Angela's upper thighs to force them well apart, lowered himself 
till the tip of his swollen prick brushed the flinching lips of her 
condemned asshole, then thrust vigorously, distending them and moving past 
the protective ring of agile sphincter muscles which at once tried with all 
their youthful might to close the aperture - but all in vain. 

Angela lifted her contorted face, eyes dilated and glistening, mouth agape 
in a cry of pain and shame and despair. But this only excited her father the 
more. With a grunt, he thrust himself nearly to the balls and her hips 
swerved and lunged, trying to disengage the hot harpoon that was stretching 
her dainty rectal sheath beyond endurance - or so at least it seemed. 

"Now, I've got her. Get off, Betsy and watch," he panted. 

As Betsy nimbly scrambled away, frigging herself both forefingers as she 
attentively watched the thrilling scene. Fred Carruthers stretched himself 
out over his daughter's body, his hands groping for and finding her 
flattened titties and clutched them possessively and gloatingly, his mouth 
applying noisy hot kisses on her soft nape. As he did so, he shoved himself 
a little further till he had impaled her to the very hilt, drawing an 
anguished, shrill wail from the frantic sufferer. 

Taking a deep breath, he rolled her over till he lay on her back with Angela 
atop him, her front presented to the naked priest who, by now, was kneeling 
on the bed beside the incestuous couple awaiting just such an opportunity. 

"Oh gee, Father, you're going to double-hole Angie, aren't you?" Betsy 
squealed her excitement, her forefingers working faster in her seething 
cunt. 

"Precisely, my daughter. It is a penance which I think this young sinner 
will remember for quite some time. It will teach her not to carry tales out 
of school, to coin a phrase ... hold her tightly. Fred - Betsy, my child, 
hold her ankles. She's trying to kick. Ah, that's better. Now, then, my 
daughter, resign yourself. Ahh - ohh, it's good. Am I crushing you, Fred?" 

"I don't mind a bit, Father," Fred Carruthers gasped as he felt the priest's 
weight force Angela's naked back down on him as his fingers tweaked her 
nipples. 

The naked brunette tried to push the priest away with both hands, but by now 
he had planted himself, having first fitted onto his swollen penis one of 
the French ticklers brought along from Fred Carruthers' bedroom. As Angela 
felt the whorls and knobs and spirals with which the rubberized condom was 
adorned, she moaned and wriggled wildly, thus causing her father's deeply 
imbedded turgid prick to move about in the tight clenching cavern of her 
asshole procuring ever new sensations. As the priest's prick burrowed to the 
balls inside her quaking cunt, she felt as if the thin partiction between 
her love channels was threatened with disruption, and her body began to jerk 
fitfully, while sweat beaded her forehead and furry-thatched soft armpits. 

"Now, let us work with a will, Fred," Father Edmund urged in a hoarse voice 
as he drew back, then lunged violently to the depths in Angela's warm young 
vagina. 

Her father, though hampered by the pose and the weight of his daughter's 
naked body sandwiched between him and the priest. Nonetheless, he managed to 
shift a little, rasping his cock inside Angela's protesting asshole. Betsy, 
rapt with excited lust, speeded her frigging to achieve her much-yearned-for 
climax as she watched her friend's singular penance. Father Edmund began to 
frig Angela's clit in cadence to his thrusts. The naked young brunette's 
wails and sobbing cries reached a crescendo. Her body threshed madly about, 
then slumped in the blissful nirvana of frenzied, overpowering, hot come ... 

 Chapter 10 

Angela was revived when Betsy opened an iced bottle of Pepsi and spilled it 
all over her, obliging her to hurry into the shower before returning for the 
rest of the "penance." Her father and the priest commanded her to make up 
with Betsy. To Angela's shame, she learned that what they had in mind was an 
act which the French called "soixante-neuf." Betsy, giggling, translating 
for her. 

"It's sixty-nine, Anglie, 'cause when we fit together, we sort of form that 
figure. I'll show you. You just lie down on your side ... there now, I'll do 
the same in reverse ... now you suck and lick my pussy, and I'll do the same 
for yours! That's what sixty-nining is, honey." 

The naked brunette was reluctant to perform so shameful an act in the 
presence of the still naked priest. Her father pulled his belt out of his 
pants and applied two or three stinging smacks of the black leather over the 
sobbing girl's bottom and thighs till she expressed an eagerness to obey. 
Both men avidly watched as the two naked girls began the exquisite lesbian 
ritual of mutual cunnilingus. Angela was obliged to continue till she had 
truly "made up" with her best friend by bringing the latter to an 
overpowering orgasm. Betsy, in turn, requited her in somewhat longer time 
with her own seething spend. 

Before the afternoon ended, however, Angela was compelled to perform a final 
penance, and this with her father-confessor. For while Fred Carruthers lay 
down on Betsy's bed and had the sexy young redhead first suck his prick back 
to readiness, then impale herself over his upright organ, Father Edmund 
instructed Angela to suck him off and to swallow all his manly seed as he 
lay on his back beside her father, pillowing his head in his hands and 
enjoying the view of Angela's dangling firm titties and the scarlet, shamed 
lovely face that humbly and salaciously performed the ritual of obeisance 
... 

Fred Carruthers had led his fearful, meekly subdued young daughter home to 
have supper with Father Edmund and the girl's mother. En route, he told her 
in no uncertain terms that from now on she was to submit herself without 
argument or discussion whenever any of the three of them wished to enjoy her 
favors. Betsy, too, would be included in the secret little menage. Indeed, 
she would help instruct Angela in some of the more complicated sophistries 
of sexual byplay which, as Fred Carruthers pompously explained, "you'll find 
lots of fun for yourself, Angela dear, and you'll be able to please us all 
that much more. Now if you're a very good girl, I'll buy you some nice red 
satin pajamas, which will make you even sexier-looking than your cute 
girlfriend." 

Over the supper table, Angela was obliged to listen to more sermonizing by 
both the priest and her parents, and listened silently, putting in a "yes, 
Father" or "Yes, Mommy" when an answer seemed obligatory. To her great 
relief, the priest took his leave shortly after supper, and no more demands 
were made on the lovely brunette's overwhelmed emotions. After all, as Mary 
Carruthers gently pointed out, the next day was school and dear Angela would 
need a good night's sleep. 

The week after Easter vacation had been a hectic one for the slim 
raven-haired girl. The sisters had, it appeared, been more vigilant than was 
their wont and every day obliged her to stand up and recite the lesson or to 
answer oral questions about the subjects taught at the particular session. 
Fortunately, she managed to give passable account of herself and so escaped 
demerits or a crack over the knuckles with the punitive ruler, every sister 
kept for unruly or slack pupils. 

On Friday night, Father Edmund came over for supper, and, after an hour 
spent chatting in the living room with Mary and Fred Carruthers, smilingly 
beckoned to the blushing brunette to follow him into her mother's bedroom. 
Once inside, he said gently, "Now, my daughter, I wish to see if you've 
profited from your penances of last week. Kneel down, take up my robe and 
oblige me with your sweet dutiful mouth." 

She turned scarlet but did not dare to disobey. Slowly she knelt down as he 
approached her. Her soft little hands tugged up his robe, to discover that 
he wore only boxer shorts beneath. 

"Lower them, my daughter," he murmured, putting his hand on her head by way 
of benediction. 

Angela hastily obeyed, and his massively erect prick thrust boldly out at 
her trembling lips, which, after a moment's blushing hesitation, she began 
to apply at his explicit instructions. Soon she found that he wished her to 
rasp her tongue over every cranny of his bulging cock, especially his balls, 
before taking as much of it as she could into her soft mouth and swallowing 
down his violent ejaculation of viscous spunk. 

When it was over, he readjusted shorts and robe, patted her head and 
commended her for her obedience and humility, and then went back to take his 
leave of her parents. 

A few moments later, Mary and Fred Carruthers entered the bedroom and 
smilingly praised her newly acquired meek obedience. 

"If you're a very good girl, dear," Mary purred, "this summer vacation, we 
might just all of us, including dear Father Edmund and your chum Betsy, take 
a little cabin in the Wisconsin woods and get to know one another better. As 
for me, I'm just dying to see what Betsy's like in bed." 

Angela made no reply to this, only bit her lips and waited for the rest. 
Sure enough, she was now obliged to suck her mother's cunt to prepare her 
for her father's conjugal embrace, and to kneel on the bed beside them and 
hold her mother's hand while Mary writhed and groaned and wriggled under 
Fred Carruthers' energetic prick-thrusting ... 

On Saturday morning, the anniversary of the first week after her loss of 
maidenhood, Angela was eating breakfast, her father and mother having both 
gone to the supermarket. Father Edmund would be there for Sunday dinner, 
which would be a standing roast of beef. The pretty brunette read the 
comics, then idly flipped the pages of the first section till suddenly her 
eyes fell on a note near the bottom of the page: 

"DIOCESE BISHOP VISITS 

Bishop Arthur Manning, after his sabbatical, will visit his diocese and its 
numerous parishes beginning next Monday, the ecclesiastic's press secretary 
John Benton revealed to our Courier reporter today." 

Angela's lovely eyes widened, then she gasped. She tore the column out of 
the newspaper and hurried back to her room to hide it under a pile of 
freshly ironed handkerchiefs. Surely this meant her salvation. For if the 
bishop, the head of the diocese in which Father Edmund was ordained priest 
at the church and at the school, were to visit there and she were to tell 
him what was being done to her, the least the bishop would do would be to 
reprimand Father Edmund for committing the very sins of the flesh he had so 
angrily sermonized against! 

* * * 

"You've been remarkably quiet, my child," Father Edmund gave her a kindly 
smile. "Now, now! Your parents and I don't mean to quash your naturally gay 
spirit, not in the least. After all, you're a grown young lady, Angela, and 
you may certainly take part in our family discussions just as you do in 
other even more pleasant affairs." 

"Speak up, darling. Father's talking to you," Mary Carruthers purred. "Isn't 
she lovely in her white dress, Father? Fred is going to buy her some red 
satin pajamas and a black nylon shortie nightie and some other very pretty 
undies if she continues to be so well behaved." 

"I-I was just thinking, Father," Angela at last spoke up, and she looked 
boldly at the smiling priest. 

"Very good, my daughter. And what were you thinking?" 

"Oh, just about what Bishop Manning would say when I go to confess to him 
all about the awful things I've had to do. I was punished good and hard for 
the first ones, but I haven't confessed the others, and I think I ought to." 

Fred Carruthers dropped his fork with a clatter onto the Wedgewood serving 
plate. Mary Carruthers gasped and turned a fiery red, coughed and then 
grabbed her napkin to suppress the flurry. As for Father Edmund, his mouth 
gaped, then his face turned as red as Mary's. 

"But, my child, there's no need to ask a bishop to hear your confession. I 
am empowered to do that as your parish priest, Angela my child," he at last 
rejoined. 

Angela shrugged her lovely shoulders. 

"Well, I phoned the bishop's hotel this afternoon, Father, and I talked to 
his secretary, I guess that's who it was, and I'll see Bishop Manning 
Tuesday morning, at your church." 

"Now, Angie dearest, you wouldn't want to do a dreadful thing like that," 
Mary Carruthers' voice was trembling and faint. 

She looked helplessly at Fred, who shook his head and stared down at his 
untouched roast beef. 

"Oh, but I have to, mummy," Angela purred. "You and Daddy brought me up to 
be a devout child and to go to church every Sunday and make my confession 
about my sins, and I want them all to be forgiven." 

"Er - arrhumph," Father Edmund had cleared his throat and was working at his 
collar, which suddenly seemed to be painfully tight. "My child, I assure you 
there's no need for that. I myself, right now after dinner, will give you 
absolution." 

Angela shook her head till her curls danced. Her mother had had her affect a 
new hair style, very sophisticated one, yet retaining a piquant child look 
all the same: a thick sheaf at the back down to her shoulderblades with the 
curls turned under, and a row of tiny spitcurls all along the top of her 
high-arching pure forehead. 

"But a bishop is higher in the church than a priest, isn't he, Father?" she 
naively asked. 

"Of course, my daughter, but I've already said - " 

"I think I'd rather confess to him, then, Father, if it's all the same to 
you," Angela rather rudely interrupted, in a cold unrecognizable voice that 
made her parents simultaneously gasp with horror and exchange another look 
of consternation. 

"I beg of you, child, don't do this - " again Father Edmund stammered 
hoarsely, then looked over at Fred and Mary as if for moral support. 

"I think if I do confess, Father," once again the brunette interrupted, 
giving him a long cold stare, "they'll kick you out of the church. Why, 
maybe the bishop will even send me to a foster home where I won't have to do 
what everybody tells me to. I sort of think I might like that - for a 
change." 

"Now, Angela, don't let's be hasty, darling, I-I - well, I'm sure we can 
work this out between us. After all, we're all grownup, sensible people, 
dear," her mother anxiously interposed. 

"If I don't confess to Bishop Manning, Mommy, all of you - and Betsy too - 
will have to do what I want from now on. Otherwise, I'll just go there 
Tuesday and tell him about everything. How Daddy goes to church and gives 
money, but sneaks over and does things with Betsy. And you, Mummy, how you 
invite Father Edmund here and take him into your bedroom and - " 

"That's enough, Angela darling - please," Mary Carruthers groaned. "Oh, God, 
Fred, we can't let her do that, you know we can't." 

"No, that's true, my children," Father Edmund had taken out a large white 
handkerchief and was industriously mopping his perspiring forehead. "So, my 
daughter, what do you ask in return for your silence before His Holiness ?" 

"I'll call up and tell him that I made a mistake, or maybe I'll just go see 
him and ask him to bless me, that's all. Yes, that would be all right - he 
might get suspicious if I didn't show up at all," Angela leaned back in her 
chair, slowly staring at all three of her adult disciplinarians. "Yes, so 
I'll just get him to bless me. But from now on, I'm going to tell you and 
Betsy what I want to do, and you'll all do it or else! I hope I'm very clear 
on that point, Mummy - Daddy? And you. Father?" 

Again the trio of adult conspirators exchanged a despairing look, and all 
slowly nodded, fixing the charming young brunette teenager with an imploring 
and questioning stare. 

"Very well, then. First off, I want us to go to Betsy's house. She's got 
punishment coming, and lots of it for snitching on me, and for playing 
around with Daddy behind my back. Mommy, did you know all about her?" 

Mary Carruthers bowed her head, but the telltale flaming blush on her pink 
cheeks was answer enough. 

"Uh huh. I thought so. Well, then, Mommy, you've got punishment coming too - 
specially 'cause you whacked my poor heinie awfully hard with that darned 
old leather sole and all for nothing, since you knew what Father Edmund here 
had just done to me. Bring the sole along, we'll go see Betsy right now." 

"But we haven't finished dinner, dear," Mary Carruthers tried to placate her 
amazingly transformed brunette daughter. 

"Stick it in the oven. It'll keep till we get back. Come on, all of you!" 
Angela grinned. 

And so, a few minutes later, the four of them were at Betsy's front door, 
Angela herself ringing the bell insistently till at last the redhead 
answered, sulky-faced, clad in her green satin pajamas and sandals, holding 
a movie magazine and smoking a cigarette. 

"Hey, what gives?" Betsy gasped, stepping back to let them in. "Father, I 
thought you were coming over tomorrow night - " 

"Be quiet, my daughter," he snapped at her. "Just do as you're told. Well, 
Angela, my dear, what are your orders now?" 

"Daddy," Angela turned to her father once they were inside the house, "I 
want you to give Betsy a bare-ass spanking with Mommy's leather slipper. 
Good and hard, till she cries, only don't let her off till you're sure she's 
had a good licking." 

"Now wait a minute, Angie. Who're you to - ohhhh - stop it - ouch. Hey, cut 
it out - oh please, Mr. Carruthers, I didn't do anythingoww - " 

Fred Carruthers had seized the leather sole from his wife's numbed hand, 
taken Betsy by an earlobe with the other and was whacking at her shapely 
ripe round bottom through the clinging, thin, green satin pajama pants as he 
marched her into her bedroom. 

Then, as Angela waited to bring up the rear by letting her mother and Father 
Edmund enter ahead of her, she called, "I said, on the bare ass, Daddy." 

"Er - yes, my dear, as you say," Fred Carruthers nervously agreed. 

Seating himself on the edge of the bed and hauling the squealing redhead 
over his lap, he proceeded to yank down her pajama pants. 

Betsy, frantic and terrified by this unexpected turn of events, rushed both 
hands back to prevent this catastrophe. Angela made a sign to her mother. 
Mary Carruthers swiftly seized Betsy's wrists and pinned them back while 
Fred completed yanking off the offending garment and laying Betsy's creamy 
bottom shrinkingly and vulnerably bare. 

Circling her waist with her left arm, he raised the leather sole and began 
to apply it with vehement energy, first on the left cheek, then the right, 
starting at the tops of her ripe young naked hips and working down to the 
tops of her wriggling thighs. When Betsy began to shriek feverishly and kick 
and thresh, he paused, shifted her over his lap to his left knee, then 
clamped his right leg over her calves and resumed the spanking. After some 
fifty hard swats, Betsy's bottom was even redder than her hair and she was 
weeping bitterly and promising incoherently to do anything in the world. 

"Go stand in the corner with your bottom to us, and frig yourself, Bets," 
was Angela's next crisp command. 

When her sobbing chum hesitated and looked timidly over to the priest for 
reprieve, Angela snapped, "Maybe you'd like the Father to give you a second 
dose of just as many swats, hm, Bets?" 

The redhead uttered a piercing cry of fright and scrambled into the corner, 
where she began to tickle her pussy with a trembling forefinger, sobbing all 
the while as if her heart would break. 

"Now then, Father Edmund," Angela fixed him with a mocking smile, "I want 
you to punish Mommy exactly the same way. Mommy, take off all your clothes 
except your stockings and belt, and be quick about it." 

"Oh, Fred - " Mary Carruthers groaned, ruefully rubbing her spacious 
posterior in understandable apprehension. 

"Do what she says, Mary, or I'll spank you myself when Father gets done with 
you," was her husband's irritable answer. 

Tears began to glisten in her blue eyes as buxom blonde Mary Carruthers 
slowly removed her dress and slip, then - not without another plaintive sob 
and appealing look back at her taciturn husband - reluctantly unfastened the 
tabs of her pantie-girdle. She tugged it down and stepped out of it while 
the priest, his face red and his penis already visibly thrusting against his 
robe, sat on the edge of the bed and took the proffered leather sole from 
Mary's husband. 

"Get over his lap fast, Mommy!" Angela insisted gleefully. 

When her mother had assumed the contrite pose for juvenile chastisement, 
Angela herself moved to the bed, sat down to the left of the priest and 
reached for her mother's hands. 

"I'll hold them so you won't cover up your big heinie, Mommy," she offered. 

It wasn't long before mature Mary Carruthers was squealing and sobbing and 
imploring Father Edmund to stop, even announcing hysterically she would do 
just anything if he would only stop that dreadful spanking. But Angela shook 
her head to all such frantic appeals till at last sixty spanks had been 
inflicted over the jerking, weaving, angrily swollen round hemispheres of 
her mother's naked posterior. Then she ordered: "All right, Mommy, now I 
want you and Betsy both to do a sixty-nine. Betsy taught it to me, but not 
too good, and I want to see you both show me how it should be done! Betsy, 
get back to bed, or I'll have Daddy spank you all over again!" 

She watched as her mother and the naked teenaged redhead moved together in 
reverse, Mary applying her lips and tongue to Betsy's cunt. The teenager, 
still sniffling from the hard spanking, licked Angela's mother. The brunette 
began to take off her dress and petticoat now, standing in bra and panties, 
hose and pumps, and insisted, "You both have to do it till you both come, or 
you get more spanks." 

Angela gleefully watched them both groan and weave and wiggle and kick in 
the throes of orgasm. Going to the night table drawer and opening it and 
taking out both the vibrator and the dildo, as well as Betsy's pack of Pall 
Malls, ordered, "Betsy is to be double-holed by Daddy and Father Edmund 
right now." 

"Oh noooo, please, Angie. Noooo !" Betsy wailed. 

But the two men were frenzied with lust at all they had seen and done. 
Betsy's appeal was not even answered as they both seized her, standing her 
up near the bed. Fred Carruthers and the priest stripped naked at Angela's 
order and then, as Father Edmund buggered Betsy, his hands squeezing her 
panting round titties, Fred Carruthers fucked the sobbing naked girl, his 
hands pinching and kneading the swollen red flesh of her voluptuous bare 
behind till they both achieved fiery climax inside her quaking channels. 

"On the bed, on your back, Mommy dear," Angela now purred as she strapped 
Betsy's dildo round her agile hips. 

Mary gasped, turned red as a beet, but hastened to obey. Apprehensively she 
spread her thighs at her daughter's sibilant command, then hid her scarlet 
face in her hands as Angela, with one hand opened the lips of her fleshy 
vulva, steadied her artificial prick with the other to guide it into her 
mother's quivering vaginal sheath and began to fuck her as vigorously as 
ever Betsy had done to her with that convenient instrument. 

So energetically did Angela pursue the enjoyable new game that before long 
her mother was wriggling and groaning and calling out in the throes of 
orgasm, then sagged and lay panting and inert as Angela pulled out the 
weapon of vengeance. 

"Now, both you, Daddy and you, Father, lie on the bed side by side on your 
tummies," Angela commanded. And when they obeyed, she drew her father's 
black belt out of his pants and began to lash their bottoms. A hard lash for 
her father's, a harder one still for Father Edmund's, till at last before 
the tireless energy of her strong young right arm, both men wept and sobbed 
and pleaded like naughty children undergoing parental discipline. 

"Now," Angela purred as she slipped down her panties and stepped out of 
them, "you naughty boys can just come down here and crawl on your knees and 
take care of me." 

Groaning and rubbing their wealed behinds, but their pricks in fierce 
erection, Father Edmund and Fred Carruthers sheepishly knelt down and 
crawled to the voluptuous lithe young half-nude brunette. 

"Daddy, I want you to suck and lick my pussy till I come. You, Father, get 
behind me, open my butt, and lick my bummy hole and say you're sorry to it 
for what you did to it in the sacristy, and you better do it nice - or else 
I'll have to tell Bishop Manning after all!" 

With a groan of shame, the priest slowly parted Angela's bottom ovals to 
disclose the rosy rosette of her dainty asshole. Conquering his revulsion, 
he applied his tongue-tip to that furtive niche ... even as her father, 
still sniffling from the belting, began to tongue and suck her tasty cunt. 

"Now, Mummy," Angela called huskily, "you said you wanted to try Betsy in 
bed, so why don't you put on that dildo thing and fuck her good and hard 
while I'm having fun?" 

And as she wriggled and sighed in ecstasy under the tonguings both her new 
male slaves inflicted, Angela watched with humid, eager eyes the payment 
deferred visited on treacherous red-haired Betsy as Mary Carruthers, 
wielding the dildo as a man, pinching Betsy's titties and bottom as indeed a 
man might in the embrace of fucking, thrust back and forth with the dildo 
till Betsy writhed and sobbed and finally attained expiring come ... 

"All right now, let's go back home and finish dinner," Angela called gayly 
as she put her clothes back on. "Oh, one last thing I forgot to mention - 
Father Edmund, when I go to confession next Saturday, you're to come into 
the booth and kneel down and hear me while you work on my pussy this time, 
understand? I'll go keep my appointment with the bishop Tuesday, and I'll 
ask him for his address so I can write him and tell him all the news of the 
parish. Of course, if you all behave real nice, this can be my little secret 
from him, can't it?" 

She smiled as each of them in turn nodded dolefully. It would be fun, Angela 
thought to herself, to have at last a secret of her very, very own! 


 End
