Author's note: If you're looking for realism, look elsewhere. This is pure depraved and over-the-top fantasy. It was a ton of fun to write, and I hope it gives you some pleasure to read. Apologies in advance if there are any grammar/spelling errors!
*****
Tolstoy said it best. Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. I'll be honest. As a kid, I didn't realize we were unhappy. My father, a conservative pastor in our Pennsylvania town, was strict, but we had good times still. Family picnics where my mother brought homemade fried chicken and fresh strawberries. Winters around the fire reading, either separately or as a family-we didn't have a television or a computer until the year I left for college. Cleaning the house on Saturday evenings in preparation for church on Sunday. My twin sisters Lily and Rachel, two years younger than me, racing to see who would get to help my mother make a pie. There were lots of wonderful moments.
But my father's rigid discipline limited us in ways I didn't recognize until I left for college. No tv and no computer was one thing, but he insisted on homeschooling us too. He bought all our clothing second hand-sweatshirts and t-shirts and baggy jeans-because he didn't want us to be too focused on appearances. And if Saturday nights were family bonding, Sundays were dry and dull: family prayer, then church, then private study in our rooms, then gathering for a family meal, then another sermon from my father. He warned us again and again against sin, and I was sure the world was an evil place that would try to drag me down to hell at its first opportunity.
When it came to sex, I don't know what lecture my sisters got, but I know I was told about the wickedness of masturbation, looking after women to lust after them, and even thinking too much about kissing. He painted such a detailed picture of being tormented by devils and the temptation of Adam by Eve that I was almost afraid to look my sisters and mother in the eye, let alone strangers out there on the streets. We stayed in the house mostly, reading and playing board games and trying our best to be good righteous Christians.
And then I went to college.
For most of my first two years at the small private college I kept to myself. I had a private dorm room, I attended my classes and went to a Bible study group a few times a week, and I spent most of my time reading history books and hiking in the mountains, trying to stay away from the temptations of the flesh that were all around me. The way college girls dressed-so different from my mother's conservative skirt and blouse combos and my younger sisters' baggy clothing-left my jaw on the floor for the first week of school, and I knew if I didn't protect myself I would find myself caught up in a web of lust that I wouldn't be able to get out of. The solitude of the mountains, I thought, would keep me safe and pure until I could meet a righteous Christian woman back home. The few women in my Bible study group were all old enough to be my mother.
In a way I was right. I met a woman from back home on those very trails, and she did exactly what I was afraid of: demolished my world in ways I never imagined and led me into the life of sin I feared. What I didn't expect was that I would be forever grateful for it.
I first saw April on the trail ahead of me, sitting on a rock, massaging her calf. She was short, only 5'3", but the tiny shorts she was wearing made her legs look long. Her red hair was tied into two braids that hung over her shoulders, and her cute rosebud lips were pouting as she worked her muscle, her skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. But it was her breasts that caught my attention. She was wearing a low-cut tanktop, and even in the sports bra underneath I could see what looked like acres of cleavage. Her chest was pushed down by the bra and her lifted leg, but nothing could hide its firm roundness.
I said a little prayer in my heart and willed my manhood not to throb. "Hello, miss," I greeted her. "Is everything ok?"
She shocked me from her first words. Little did I know it was only the beginning.
"Fucking cramp," she said. "So goddamn stupid."
Her words surprised me. I knelt down next to her and took a deep breath. "Can I help?" I asked, gently taking her leg in mine. "Stretch it out, like this." I helped her extend her leg, angling her foot until I saw the twitch of pain, then pressing my palms along the muscle along the underside of her leg. Her milky white skin was smooth but firm, and I wanted to hold it in my hands forever. I felt a stirring in my groin again, and I cleared my throat.
"Oh, damn," she said. "That's really working."
"You should probably eat more bananas," I said. "The potassium can help with cramps like this."
She gave me a wicked grin. "Bananas, huh? I do like having long things in my mouth. God, your hands are magic."
I blushed and let go of her leg. "Are you feeling better now?"
Her leg was still extended in front of her, only now she lifted it, rubbing her boot against the inside of my thigh. "My hero," she smiled. "I'm April, by the way. And you are?"
"Paul," I said.
I helped her to her feet quickly, and she asked if I would hike with her for a little while, in case she got another cramp. I agreed, and we walked side by side deeper into the woods. We talked while we walked. April asked me about what I was studying at school, about what I did in my freetime, and eventually about home.
"You're from there too?" she asked when I named my hometown. "No way! That's where I'm from! How have I never met you before? Where'd you go to school?"
"I was homeschooled," I answered. "My father runs the Church of the Cross at the edge of town."
"Homeschool," she said, smiling brightly. "That explains so much."
"Explains what?" I asked.
"Why you're such a fucking boy scout," she said. Her near-constant profanity surprised me and made me a little uncomfortable.
"I wasn't a boy scout," I said.
"Oh, lighten up Paul, it's cute," she laughed. "You're cute. You're so . . . so innocent. I don't think I've ever met someone like you."
"I don't think I've ever met anyone like you either," I said, truthfully.
We continued talking. Despite my misgivings, I found that I liked April. She was smart and funny, even if she did swear constantly, and before we knew it we had been hiking together for two hours. We reached the crest of the mountain and looked out over the valley. From where we were we could see the trail below us and what seemed like fifty miles in every direction. It was beautiful, and it felt like we were the only two people around for miles.
"Beauty all around us," I said smiling. "Like Eden. Praise God, we're sure lucky to be alive and here at this place, aren't we?"
She looked at me, her mouth wide open, and then she laughed. "Oh my fucking God, Paul, you are adorable. I'll be the girls here just love this 'aw, shucks' act, don't they?"
I blushed for the second time since meeting her. "I don't know a lot of girls. And I don't know what you mean. I don't have an act. I'm just me."
April smiled at me and said, "Yes you are. This is going to be fun."
And then she stood up on her toes and her mouth was all over me, her plump lips pushing against mine, her tongue inside my mouth. I was so startled that I did nothing at first, and then I thought of what my father would think if he saw us. This was sin! I wanted to pull away, but biology and the devil kicked in. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her to me instead. I could feel her breasts against my chest and felt that stirring in my crotch again, but this time I let it rise, my mind focused on the gorgeous girl who was kissing me so hard. My hand slid down, cupping her thick round butt cheek, and the feel of her pliant flesh was magic. I imagined pulling her shorts down, feeling if the skin here was as smooth as the skin of her leg. And then my conscience came out strong and I realized how wrong what I was doing was. I pulled my hand back like I'd been burned.
"Sorry," I said, pulling my head back. "We shouldn't do this."
April grabbed my wrist and pulled it down again, planting my hand firmly on her backside. "What's the matter, Paul, never kissed a girl before?"
I shook my head no, and her smile got even bigger. She licked her lips, and then her hands were on my butt too. "I don't know whether to be disappointed for women or excited for me, Paul. But if the way you kiss is any indication, you have been depriving the world of some fucking serious talents."
She kissed me hard again, our tongues darting around each other, my lips wet from her saliva. My penis was really starting to get hard, and I pulled back, my hands instinctively dropping to cover my crotch. I couldn't let her feel my erection. It was sinful. What would she think!
"I'm sorry," I said. "I can't."
April pointed at me, "Oh my God, are you embarrassed?"
I didn't like the laughter in her voice. I felt ashamed. "This isn't right," I said.
"Oh, Pauly baby," she smiled. "I think you might be right about that. It's not right. We really should be enjoying the beauty of God's creations a little more, don't you think?"
I started to nod, but froze when she crossed her hands in front of her and pulled her tanktop up over her head. Her stomach was flat and toned, her hips flaring out from a tiny waist in an insane hourglass, only exceeded by her large chest, barely contained in the sports bra.
"So enjoy these creations, baby," she smiled, and then the sports bra disappeared, dropped onto the grass nearby.
Praise God. My jaw dropped and I stared at the huge and round mounds of flesh, the hard nipples, nearly an inch long, the deep red areolas two and a half inches in diameter, all sitting on top of perfect cantaloupes of firm and succulent flesh. They jiggled as she brought her hands down. I had seen the female form before, in sculptures that my father called indecent and once in a magazine I'd found behind the church, but nothing prepared me for the glories of April's body. The smooth, soft roundness, the ripe breasts. She was a goddess, only topless and lust-filled and right in front of me. I wanted her, and now my crotch was like a steel rod. I'd never seen the face of God before, but I couldn't imagine being any more awed than I already was.
"Your . . . your breasts," I said. "What are you—?" I couldn't finish the sentence. My eyes were locked on her chest.
"You like my tits?" she asked. "Most guys do. 32DD. All natural." She lifted them up, pushing them together to create a deep furrow of cleavage, juggling them back and forth.
"You can't," I said. "Put your clothes on! This is a sin! It's dirty!"
