(It looks like our closet slut is at it again. If you haven't read the Good Deed series, you can find them on my author page. They are My Good Deed, Another Good Deed and A Forced Good Deed in that order. My thanks to Slavey for reading over it and to Magical Hands for helping me think of this idea. Enjoy and vote. )
It was a hard day. I walked into my house after a long day of helping the elementary school kids with their reading and collapsed on the couch. Playing the part of the tireless volunteer for the Podunk small town I live in is difficult. Keeping my secret life had been even harder. It had been a few months since the incident involving the preacher's son. The preacher had no idea that his son lost his virginity to the "sweet innocent organist" before going back to college and I was happy he didn't know. As I looked at him dressed in his robes for Mass, it was hard not to cream my pants thinking about his son.
Luckily, I had plenty of volunteer opportunities to take advantage of my time as well as my "clients" at night that needed my healing touch. As I slowly worked my way over to the computer, I thought about which client would need the "nurse" to heal them that night. I went onto Yahoo Messenger and waited as I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and allowed my bra to become loosened to slip out. There is nothing better in the world than being able to strip in any room of your own house without worrying about nosey neighbors or little ones running around.
A new message appeared on the screen from a lurker. That lurker wasn't one of my regular "clients" since he never allowed us to webcam nor was he even consistently on most of the time. Being one who gets off online many times, I knew his type well and began describing myself to him over the posts while reaching in my desk drawer for my dependable eight incher. I slowly began teasing my clit as he began expressing in crude fashion how I could relieve his condition that night. Even though I never saw him before, his description was pretty straight forward. Nurse was going to spend her treatment sucking him off and swallowing. As I said, pretty straight forward were his desires that night.
As I finished his "treatment" that night, I felt unfulfilled. The toy wasn't doing much for me either with its vibrating head. As I waited a few more minutes to see if anyone would come on, I contemplated if I should try to track down the preacher's son for phone sex. I thought better of it knowing that it was Friday night and he was probably having some young waif sucking him off. I felt vaguely jealous just because I was his first. I started thinking I should advertise to deflower virgins as a side practice, but I knew it would reveal more than the local residents needed to know.
When it hit the half hour mark on the computer, I decided to log off and go to bed. Right before the computer logged off, I received an email on my business account. In the back of my mind, I felt better about having a separate account for my "practice" than the one for my normal emails. As I opened the email, a gripping twinge materialized in my stomach when I saw the news. My best friend emailed me warning me that Reverend Jones was going to assist me in the elementary school rummage sale the next day. She thought it would be in my best interest to let me know.
She was right. Reverend Harold Timothy Jones was not only a fire and brimstone preacher who did revivals along the Baptist circuit, but he was also the first man to ever sleep with me and the first I allowed to break my heart. Back then, he wasn't even thinking seminary school. In high school, he was more of the practical joker. It wasn't until we helped each other lose our virginities that he found his calling and his first act of defiance was branding me as a slut in front of the whole school. I hated him with a passion although hate should not be part of a good Catholic girl's vocabulary. The thought of spending an afternoon with that snake was not my dream Saturday. I ended up sleeping in my bed without playing at all. Talk about a mood killer.
The next morning found me looking for a suitable outfit for the rummage sale. Since I knew the rummage sale was for the elementary school and I knew old Blow hard would be there, I decided to dress conservatively. I found a blue blouse that was solid enough to hide the white bra that would be under it. When I opened my underwear drawer, I noticed the only panties left were thongs. I had to decide whether to go with a thong or nothing underneath. Considering the weather, I decided that I better wear a white thong. It was convenient that I was still shaven in my clit although I knew no one would see it at the sale. A plain white skirt covered the naughty bits for the time being. I slipped my feet into some flats and ensured my hair was up as was custom.
I drove over to the school and parked my car. There my friend stood waiting. "You can skip this one if you want," she reminded me.
"No, Becky, the slime ball is not going to stop me from doing my duties here. Where is he?" She pointed towards the concession stand as I headed towards the cash register on the other side of the gym. My goal was simple. I was going to stay on the other end and if he came over, I was going to be cordial. At least the plan theoretically made sense. As I sat on the bar stool near the exit, he came up.
"Well, look who slipped out of bed this morning," he condemned. I was done being cordial.
"Over in the back room, asshole," I hissed as I walked towards where the chairs were stored. My friend was powerless to stop me as I went in there and waited for him before closing the door. As the door closed behind us, I started.
"Look, Harold, I understand you have a job to do. I understand you love making me feel dirty for what happened. But this isn't high school. This is the school I volunteer at four days a week in a town where I do many good things for everyone. No one here knows the slut you think you know. So if you want to keep these so called balls, you will remain cordial and treat me with respect. Otherwise, my friends here will escort you out and it will be all over town. You understand?"
His jaw dropped. I don't think he was expected to get a lecture from his ex-girlfriend. He silently walked out of the door and back towards the concession stand. By the time he reached position, his fake smile was in place as he began selling hot dogs, canned soda and popcorn to the people looking through the stuff on sale. I felt confident as I went towards the cash register.
The day went well otherwise and we made a vast amount of money for the school. As I started walking towards the car, I felt a hand grab my shoulder. I turned in surprise to see Harold.
"Maria, I'm sorry bout..."
"Hands off, asshole," I hissed. "The school had a good day today and the last thing I need is a buzz kill. You are to never approach me again. You did too much damage."
"So you won't take an apology then?" he asked. I bit my tongue for a moment.
"Sorry? For all the shit in high school you caused? For calling me a slut in front of my friends? For ruining my teenage years? I don't think a sorry will cover it. Do us all a favor and go be the preacher. I don't need it." I walked towards my car more confidently as I thought about the painful memories the asshole reminded me of.
High school was different in my junior and senior years. After Harold's declaration of my smuttiness, the guys looking for tail always seemed to be hitting on me while the girls ignored me. I didn't go to prom because every guy that asked only wanted to fuck me. After graduation, I left the town where I grew up to find myself and married an excellent guy out of college. We spent a good fifteen years together where we were happy while he gained his wealth on his ability to sell. His death from a drunk driver hitting him was crushing. The good thing about his death was the fact it allowed me to give back. It was what he wanted, so I moved to the small town I presently live in and spend my days volunteering.
As I reached my house, I thought about how one accidental web cam moment showed me how desirable I could be. I loved the feeling of being watched and having men get off on me playing with my tits. I also learned that meeting these men covertly helped erase the longing I feel towards my husband. No cock has ever felt like his or would ever feel like his. He still has my heart. However, I knew my "clients" would help me feel better when I logged on.
I didn't even disrobe before logging on. As I logged on, there was an email waiting for me on my business account. I opened it and read the apology Harold sent. It seemed heartfelt, but I still held a grudge. As I began to unbutton my blouse to allow my chest to breathe, there was a knock at the door. I quickly buttoned my blouse back up and walked to the door.
"Maria, please let me in," Harold pleaded. Fearing the prying eyes that could see the scene, I hurriedly let him in.
"What the hell do you want?" I asked. Harold's eyes were tear-filled.
