The annual trip to Bear Mountain for Franklin Baptist Church was underway. Several members of the DC based church boarded buses for a 4-day weekend getaway. This time was a little different. Ten years prior, the church filled three buses, but with church attendance and membership down, there were barely enough to fill two.
Brian Ellis had grown to hate the annual trip, especially since his church-buddies had stopped attending years ago. His mother had been demanding his attendance at church and on the trip since he was 12. For the last several years, he was the only church member older than 10 and younger than 30 on the trip. Each time he had to listen to "saved and sanctified" hypocrites attempt to give him life advice.
Although he had grown up as a "church boy", Brian was anything but that. Church was something he did because, since he still lived with his mother, he didn't have another choice. Brian was about to turn 20 - he had already made up his mind that this would be his last trip.
As usual, church elders tracked him down at the small resort to overwhelm him with sad stories of their "youthful misdeeds" or advice to keep him on the "true path". In truth, their "mischievousness" was nothing compared to some of the things that Brian had secretly gotten into.
As always, Brian was polite and respectful, but bored and annoyed.
On the 5 ½ hour return trip, Brian took a seat on the second bus. Bus #1 was filled with the church elders and deacons, church administrators, the pastor and his mother - each happily trying to "out church" each other. The second bus was less than half filled with the "less sanctified" members who didn't have as much of a problem with drinking, swearing and extramarital sex.
It was late and dark as the buses traveled down US 95. Brian took a seat four rows from the rear; the next closest person to him sat two rows away.
He was staring out the window, nodding to Jay Z remixes in his headphones, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He pulled out one earbud and turned, barely able to make them out in the darkness of the bus.
"What are you listening to?" Lydia "loud-whispered", leaning in so he could see and hear her better.
"Jigga..." he replied. He wiped the earbud on his shirt and offered it to her.
Smiling, she took it and plopped down into the seat next to him. For the rest of the song, they nodded, bounced in their seats and rapped along with Jay Z, Fat Joe and Remy Ma.
Brian liked Lydia - she was the pianist for the church choir, and he once had a major crush on her - he would jerk-off nightly thinking about her ass and breasts. She was 38; light complexioned, with hazel-brown eyes and short, curly auburn hair. She reminded him of a British actor that he was a fan of (Lorraine Burroughs).
"That was my shit...!" Lydia exclaimed when the last beat of the song had faded. Catching herself, she covered her mouth and peaked around, breaking into laughter when she realized that no one could hear her over the bus engine.
For the next 50 or so miles, Brian and Lydia listened to hip-hop, laughed and shared "un-church-like" images on their smartphones. Sitting this close to her, smelling her perfume and having her occasionally touch his arm gave Brian a semi-hard-on; the perfect combination of pleasure and frustration.
"If I show you something...you gotta swear not tell anybody." She suddenly said to him.
Brian "swore" not to.
Lydia entered a password, and opened a protected folder on her phone. After scrolling for several seconds, she stopped and enlarged a photo.
Brian couldn't quite make out what it was at first - it looked like a cartoon character. Finally, he realized that it was a tattoo.
"Sweet Cookie" were the words written beneath a pair of lips, with a large extended tongue, licking a chocolate chip cookie.
"Who's is this...?" Brian asked, already knowing the answer.
"Mine's, of course...!" she said, playfully slapping his arm. "I got it a few months ago as a surprise for my "boyfriend", Gerald. He was supposed to be on the trip with us, but that asshole played himself and I dumped him a few weeks ago..."
"Oh, snap...what did he do?" Brian inquired, although he had a good idea. He knew that Lydia and Gerald had been going together for a while; he'd even met him once at church. If Lydia was this down on him, he must have cheated.
Lydia rolled her eyes and let out a hard, deep exhale.
"That mutha-fucka' was sending dick pics to a buncha different ho's...! And he had pussy and tittie pics from them on his phone...!" she paused. "I think one of them bitches was my cousin..."
"Damn..." Brian replied, still staring intently at the image of the tattoo. The picture was too close to make out exactly WHERE it was applied. Just thinking about it took his semi-hard-on one step closer to frustration.
Lydia realized that Brian was staring at her picture - she was flattered, and more than a little turned on. She liked Brian; had literally watched him grow up, and admired the young man he had become. Over the years, she'd seen him checking her out, and even noticed he'd get a hard-on when he did. She wondered if he had one now.
"If you like that one," she said, literally prying her phone from his hand, and swiping to another folder, "what do you think of these?"
When she gave the phone back to him, Brian felt his heartrate quicken. He was now at full hard-on.
The folder, labeled "Eyes Only", contained selfies. Most were of Lydia smiling or blowing a kiss to the camera, but there were some where she wore low-cut blouses, displaying deep cleavage, and a tank top without a bra - her nipples at full attention. Then there were several of Lydia completely nude, coyly covering herself with a towel, or a pillow or her hand. The last was a 2-minute selfie-movie, where she propped her phone on a table, opened and dropped the robe she was wearing to the floor. Completely naked, Lydia fell back onto her couch. While staring directly into the camera, she spread her legs and masturbated for several seconds, until the picture faded to black. At the end, a caption appeared that read "Sweet Cookie - Just 4 You".
"That last one was supposed to be for dumb-ass, Gerald." She smirked, "but he ain't never gonna see no parts of that again!"
"Damn...!" was all that Brian could think of as a reply.
