Angela Falls 02

All characters are over 18.

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Angela didn't speak another word to either James or Emily the remainder of the night. In the afterglow of their lustful tryst, they don't seem to notice.

Unsurprisingly, Angela's team lost the game.

"I'm thinking a nice apple pie, frat boy," taunted a competitor.

"Nah, a strawberry shortcake."

James rolled his eyes. "If you want my baked goods it's your funeral. Tell Pastor Saul it was a... pleasure partaking in tonight's fellowship, Emily."

"Oh, I will."

"Ready, Angela?"

Angela, avoiding eye contact, looked down. Her eyes were somehow drawn to his crotch area and her mind replayed the scene of the penis within penetrating her friend. She didn't get a good look, and she briefly wondered what a penis looked like before she internally screamed, "Away from me, Satan!" and shifted her gaze on nothing in particular.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Let me, umm, get the casserole dish."

James headed towards his truck, cheerfully whistling "Jesus loves me, this I know". Angela scurried to retrieve the dish, wordlessly dipping her head when Pastor Saul bade her a good night.

That night, Angela tossed fretfully, anxious about she should do. Should she tattle? She shuddered to think of the potential fallout James and Emily would face. Or what she might face if no one believed her. No, she rationalized. Their sins were between them and God. If they wanted to go to Hell, that was their decision to make.

Having made her decision, she waited for sleep to take her. Looking at the ceiling, she saw Emily's face of moonlit bliss as she was fingered was projected onto the pale white of the ceiling, the memory played again and again by her treacherously sinful mind. Instead of helping, closing her eyes only served to amplify the accompanying memory of Emily's staccato whimpers.

Waking up, Angela wasn't sure when she fell asleep. She wasn't even sure she had, even though it was obvious she must have.

Angela reached for her brush to begin her morning routine, but stopped. Last night Emily had said she had used a hairbrush instead of a dildo. She didn't know what a dildo was. As she stared at the brush and thought about it, she began to fidget and feel a warmth spread in her crotch area. Of their own volition, her legs began to clench together, producing a sort of friction, and she felt her cheeks warm. Flustered, Angela began to brush her hair and tried to ignore the persistent feelings clamoring for her attention.

Completing her brushing with a final stroke, she went to the bathroom to go potty. Peeling her pants downto sit, she gasped. There was a fleshy protrusion poking out from between her unshaved girly bits. A little nub.

Angela froze. Was this an STD? Panicking, her mind raced to try and figure out how she would have gotten an STD. Would Matthew's leg brushing up have given it to her? Could she somehow gotten it from watching James and Emily yesterday.What if God gave her an STD to punish her? Oh, God, please, she prayed as she reached out and prodded the nub.

Oh. A tingle propagated from the nub through the base of her lower back before washing over her mind. Her legs fidgeted some more and she poked it again.

Angela's mind was rapidly addling as the conflict between faith and desire raged. What she was doing felt dirty and wrong. What she was doing was a betrayal to the Lord. But these feelings were dwarfed in comparison to this previously undiscovered need now rearing its head. A need promising ecstasy and pleasure beyond measure. It beckoning her to try. Just one more taste.

Angela poked at the nub, feeling the same dull pulse course through her. She tried rubbing it, but the friction of her skin hurt. She tried a motion more akin to a deep tissue massage, her fingers shifting over a bundle of nerves. She gasped as the need purred its approval. Panting, she tried again, desperate to please this need. She found the bundle of nerves again and massaged it again, and again the need purred. Settling into a rhythm, her eyes clenched shut as she began determining variations of speed and pressure that would feed the need, her little gasps and pants were coming faster and sharper. But the more she fed this unfamiliar need, the hungrier it became for something more. The pulses coursing through her were intensifying, her insides clenching and unclenching. Her legs shifted together and apart, over and over, until suddenly they clamped shut around her wrist, a shudder rippling through her body.

Angela squeaked and gripped the side of the toilet to avoid toppling off. Looking down, she saw the lips of her girly bits spasming, as if grasping for something more. Something else. The scene of James and Emily slapping their flesh together flashed through her mind. The need within her, not fully satisfied, paced impatiently. Splaying her legs again as the ripples of pleasure subsided, she studied her bits and the enflamed nub. Spreading her lips with her hands, she saw a clear fluid coming out. Concerned, she wondered if she should wear a pad today, even though it was too early to be a period.

It crossed her mind to scoop some with her finger. The need perked at the thought. The reminder of her mom's teachings that only a man's penis should go there came in retort. The need cajoled that she should slip a finger in anyway. Her body craved it. But her mom had said even tampons weren't allowed, hence the pads. The need roared, demanding Angela obey.

"Away from me Satan!" she whispered, and the demon backed away, as if curling up in a ball in a corner of her mind. She was beginning to realize that this darkness, this need, was in fact a demon. Maybe even Satan himself.

Despairing from her wretchedness and feeling dirty from her sinful exploit, Angela decided a shower was in order. Upon undressing, she looked at herself in the mirror, only briefly meeting her own glassy gaze before averting her eyes. Her cheeks, typically tanned from what had been a sun filled spring, were flushed. Below the tan line tightly encircling her neck was a swathe of pink upon her normally pale white skin. It started at her neck and ended between her boobs. Before the demon could do more than rear its head at this observation, Angela jumped into the shower and turned the water on cold. Gasping as it struck her, Angela clenched her fists and teeth and eyes to endure it as long as she could, reveling as the demon within retreated further each passing second. Finally relenting and turning on the warm water. Starting safe, she shampooed and conditioned her hair, massaging her scalp before rinsing. Venturing out, she soaped her body, starting with her arms, legs, and face before carefully and methodically doing her boobs and neck. She avoided her crotch altogether, even though the nub had retreated within the folds.

Exiting the shower, she toweled off before wrapping her hair up to help it dry. Seeing the hairbrush upon returning to her room, Angela's memory snapped back once again to last nights debauchery and Emily's use of the word dildo. The demon deep within began stalking forward. Angela tried ignoring it, picking up her Bible to read instead.

Angela had never actually read her Bible beyond excerpts and passages covered in church. It had never seemed that important, and she trusted the wisdom of her elders completely. She tried reading some now to distract herself from the thoughts of what a dildo could be. The question had been smoldering for some time, and now the demon within her was nurturing it along and fanning it with its wings. Angela's tried to read, her eyes scanning the words over and over, but her mind was too preoccupied with that one burning question.

Angela put her Bible down and went to her desk, pulling a dictionary from one of its cluttered drawers. Back in the bed, she tried looking up "dilldoe", puzzled but undeterred by the lack of entries. Looking up "dildoe" next, she found it was actually spelled "dildo". At the cusp of this forbidden knowledge, her heart thumped as she read:

dildo (noun)

plural dildos (also dildoes)

: an object resembling a penis used for sexual stimulation

Angela snapped the dictionary shut, her eyes glancing around the empty room before settling on the once innocent hairbrush. Emily had said she used a hairbrush instead of a dildo. What had that meant? Her mind raced and the demon was in the driver seat, pedal to the floor, rocketing towards the inevitable conclusion before finally crashing into it with a fiery explosion, the demon morphing into a beast of raw need, a beast so primal in nature it drowned all logic and reason and virtue.

The beast crushed her resistances, her vagina an inferno that made her face flush with heat. Carrying her chair to the door, she propped it under the knob like she had seen in some movies despite surely being alone on a weekday morning. Settling into bed, still nude from her shower, she grasped the head of her brush and looked at her girly bits, flushed and aching. Bringing the handle to bear, she tried pushing it in, but the dryness caused it to pinch. Remembering the wetness from earlier, she spread her lips to wear she could see it begin to pool. After dabbing the handle in it, she tried again and pushed the handle inside, bottoming in one smooth stroke.

Angela gasped as the pleasure from the handle probing her insides rippled through her. When it calmed to a dull throb, she pulled the brush out and pushed it back again, watching the plastic disappear. Another ripple left her panting. Another pull and push, her hips unconsciously squirming as the ripple flowed through heonce more. Another push and pull. Angela whimpered. Another, then another, then another as Angela let her head fall back and surrendered control to the beast.

A filthy squelching filled the air of as Angela plumbed herself with wanton abandon. Of its own accord her spare hand sought out her nub and began to rub it. Too dry. Again her hand acted, reaching towards her mouth. Her mouth spat onto it, and her hand returned to the nub to rub.

Angela squeaks and whimpers. Her body writhes. Her hips rise. Not of her own volition, but at the command of the primal need that had taken over her.

"Oh, God," she moaned.

Oh, God. Shame coursed through her at the remembrance of His existence. Oh, God, please forgive me, she prayed. Oh, God, please. Oh, God.

"Oh God, oh, God, oh God, ohgod, OhGooooood!"

Angela's hips thrust into the air one final time before spasming and slamming back to the bed. Her thighs clamping around her wrist momentarily before she could pull her hand free, gripping the head with white knuckles as here legs quivered and trembled. The primal beast, now sated, withered. Withered till it seemed like it was just a little kernel in the back of her mind.

All the logic, reason, and virtue the primal beast had kept at bay came flooded into the void its absence left. Oh, no. Oh, God, no. She despaired once again at her own certain, wretched damnation. She cursed her brother and friend for opening the door and letting the devil into her heart. Snatching up her hair brush, she leapt up and carried it to the bathroom. Hot water melded with soap on the brush handle. Then a disinfectant wipe cleaned it again. Dashing to the kitchen, she returned to the bathroom with two used plastic grocery bags, wrapping the hairbrush inside one, then the other. She placed the evidence at the bottom of her trash can, smoothed the contents, and stood back to consider.

No, too risky. She bagged her trash, tied it up, threw it in the quarter full kitchen trash, bagged that up, and took it to the trash can outside.

She thought that must surely be enough. No one could know. No one.

No one, she thought, except God.

Shuddering, Angela rushed inside to shower again.