My name is Chester. I still hold it against my mother for giving me a pedophile first name but in the end, she probably knew what she was doing.
I was some sort of genius as a kid. I tested off the charts and everyone told me how great I was going be. In high school I had a teacher who wanted to mold me, show me the way. I would have let her do whatever she wanted. She was my Latin teacher. She was younger than anyone else that worked at the fancy prep academy. She had bigger tits than anyone I had ever seen. She taught me Latin and although it wasn't on the curriculum she thought if I were going to study the classics I needed Greek too. She took to giving me lessons in Greek after school.
I didn't have friends. I was awkward and studied dead languages after school rather than play sports. On my eighteenth birthday I marked the occasion by writing a paper on what it meant to turn eighteen and translated it into both Greek and Latin and sat in her office as she read and corrected them. She asked if I needed a ride home.
She didn't take me to the little apartment I shared with mom but to the little old house the academy provided her. She taught me the things I didn't know about being a man that I had left out of my paper.
I had one girlfriend in college. She was as weird as I was. We mostly got high and watched freaky European porn. I don't know where she got it, I tried not to think about where she went when we weren't together. The French movies were all about women being taken by two or three other people. There was a lot of body hair. The German ones were even stranger. The polish film didn't have subtitles so we had no clue what was going on.
I applied for Graduate school up and down the coast. I wasn't going to go any further from mother than that. None of them would accept me. I had to know why. I didn't understand. I went to the small liberal arts college that was just across town and hunted down the chair of the department. She was a cold woman - nothing like my mentor. Yes, I wanted to fuck her but I don't think she fucked. I had a mastery of the language, that was certain but I had no gift for analysis. If my submission had been about a work originally in English it would have been the type of paper an elementary student might write. She suggested other ways I might use my mastery of Latin and Greek. She was half joking when she suggested the seminary. "They don't want you to find any subtext," she had jeered.
I moved to Arizona and studied the bible. Please don't be offended but I have read it in the original Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. They taught me Hebrew in about nine months; compared to Greek it was a piece of cake.
I didn't want to move. I liked the weather. The gentle old man that hired me as an associate pastor was so gracious. He was so excited to have some youth and energy in their ministry. He fucked up.
It was only my second week when the girl slipped into what was supposed to be my office. It wasn't large enough to have a real desk so it was hard to call it an office; there was a plank of wood along one wall. She was a sophomore in high school and although she wasn't even able to drive yet she had the body of a stripper and would have had to wear longer shorts and more of a top to pole dance in some states. She was fighting with her friend and was struggling to understand what Jesus would do. Jesus was never an insipid teenage girl so he never would have had to deal with shit like this. I had to get away from her. I gave her a pamphlet and a devotional book. I was supposed to sell the little books but fuck it, I would cover the six dollars if they asked and I sent her away to talk to her mother. I resolved to focus on the college group.
Most college students are busy with beer and other bullshit. They aren't going to waste their Wednesday nights listening to an asshole like me explain to them what Paul was trying to tell the Philippians or whoever. I got newsletters that told me what verses to read to the sheep and what they supposedly meant. They even gave me these little stories to tell. They told me to tell them as if they were things that happened to me or to someone I knew. It was such a crock of shit. I was good at it though. The prof had been right. I had found a calling.
"The lord has given you these gifts. It is your duty to explore them. Your abilities to calculate, your doubt, your sense of wonder. These are his gifts. You only become closer to him by exercising them. Sexuality is just one of them." I had come up with that myself. It wasn't in any of the emails or the books they had given me. Kristen, or Kirstyn, or whatever her name was hung on every word. Her small white sundress barely covered her thighs. Her breasts gave the dress its shape rather than the dress shaping her tits. Her arms were long and tan and her fingers thin and delicate. She was nineteen, I checked twice. I had to wait for her to make a move I'd told myself. That made it acceptable. If she kissed me I had been the one Jesus had tempted. She was slow to make her move. She waited until we were praying. In the small office we had been too close to each other all along but when we bent to pray our heads were inches apart. I took her hands in mine as we prayed for guidance. She kissed me just after I had said amen.
From behind, her ass was a work of art. It was nubile. I couldn't look at her ass and thighs and not have the word come to mind. It was from the latin and refered to being marriage material. How the fuck it came to be an appropriate word for an athletically toned young ass I had no idea but that's how the Romans were. They were always fucking something.
I fucked her a second time outside of the burger place down the street and then a few days later in a park up the hill from the church. She only came to Rock'in Wednesdays a couple more times. (The apostrophe is in the wrong place on purpose referring to the rock on which he built his church. It was my idea.) She didn't want to come to church anymore she wanted to explore the wonders that were secular life, sin, and being 19. I supposed it was my own fault for putting the idea in her head.
Ariel was named after a mermaid and had the same red hair. She was covered in freckles. She was of age, again, I was careful about that. We had celebrated her 18th on a Wednesday night with the band wailing away on a rockin version of happy birthday that hurt my soul deeply to sit through it was so bad. I'd had to show Ariel that the shit between her legs had purposes other than taking a shit. When I fingered her she screamed like a banshee. She made sounds you hear on nature documentaries. It took some coaxing to get her to reciprocate but when she did she learned quickly that jacking a guy off was not about being delicate it is about milking that fucker till it blows. She still wont let me fuck her but she still likes to show up on Tuesday mornings when I am working on my sermon. She's up front about it and likes to show up in a short skirt or dress and toss her panties on my desk as I am bent over scratching out what I am going to say on a yellow legal pad. Her pussy is a perfect pink and she lets me play with it till my fingers cramp up. Her new thing is to aim my load at her chest and tell everyone how she spilled a milkshake all over herself.
Caroline was bold as shit when she came to me. She thought seducing the youth pastor was something new no one had done before. She followed me home. She was older, twenty, and had a plump round ass but smaller tits. You know, I never would have tried anything with her but when she showed up at my apartment just as I had lit up what was I going to say. She was good in bed. She bounced around jiggling the whole time. When we were done she ran into the bathroom. I had to force the door to get her out she ran home crying and I began to write up my confession in my head. I knew Pastor Doug pretty well at that point. I don't think he was capable of an indecent thought but he was very understanding. He probably wouldn't even fire me if Caroline ran home and told her mother.
Caroline never said shit. She still shows up and sits in the front row and glares at me though.
The mission trip was a nightmare. We were camping on the Indian reservation. We spent mornings doing home repairs for perfectly capable people too lazy to drive to the home depot. In the afternoon we played games. One afternoon we went swimming in this shit little creek. Teen-age tits and ass were everywhere. I couldn't do a fucking thing. I threw out my sleeping bag when I got home it was so covered in cum from jacking off every night.
