Aristippus - Vicy's Story

Vicky's Story - Appendix H

He was the Son of a Preacher Man

I was the oldest girl in a family of seven children. And it was not under circumstances that I enjoyed. Due to the fact that my parents couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other, my mother was always pregnant or had a baby on her hip. And somehow, I was responsible for the care and maintenance of my five younger siblings. So, if I wasn't in school, I was expected to supervise the kids, keep them entertained, change diapers as needed, bathe them, and sometimes even put them to bed.

My older brother was curiously exempt from most of these duties, as was my dad. Even though they never actually said it, the inference was that such tasks were women's work. Now that's not to say that my brother got off scot-free, for he certainly had his share of household duties also, but for changing a dirty diaper, well, if my mother was too busy to do it, guess whose job it was.

My dad was originally from Minnesota and joined the Air Force right out of high school. He served six years in the Security Force. In other words, an Air Force cop. His last duty station was Luke AFB, and when his enlistment was up, he decided to remain in the Phoenix area. And I guess for someone born and raised in Minnesota, I can understand that.

My dad had been brought up in an evangelical family to begin with, and his six years in the Air Force only deepened that conviction. He attended one of those

Mega Churches

in Phoenix. In fact, that's where he met my mother. And besides the weather, the main reason he didn't re-up when his enlistment concluded was to marry my mom. It must have been a match made in heaven, for my older brother was born about seven months after they were married. And for the next eighteen years, another baby came about every two or three years after that. My parents always said, "Another gift from God," but I always felt God had very little to do with it. For I think the source of our bountiful family lay in my parent's bed.

After the Air Force, my dad got a job as a Deputy with the Maricopa Sheriff's Office. And I'm sure the seven years spent dealing with the less fortunate citizens of Phoenix and Maricopa County only served to strengthen his commitment to what I now consider right-wing conservative evangelicalism.

When I was about five or six years old, my dad left the Sheriff's department and started selling real estate, as he couldn't afford to send us all to private school on a deputy's salary. I attended the church's school from pre-school all the way through twelfth grade, as did all six of my brothers and sisters. It was

Total Immersion

into the evangelical lifestyle. And I pretty much accepted it, at least through sixth or seventh grade. By that time, I was getting old enough to think for myself, and I began to see the utter hypocrisy of the entire culture.

When Christians turn a faith of healing and forgiveness into an excuse to hate others, they are hypocrites. When a church leader tells you to give money to help the work of God and puts it in his own pocket, he is a hypocrite. And when Christians see the sins of others as worse than their own, they are hypocrites. The Pastor of our church never seemed to shy away from the name of Jesus Christ, yet his understanding of peace, tolerance, and justice for all, totally escaped him. He may have read the Bible, but he clearly did not understand its message.

About that same time, maybe seventh or eighth grade, I became closer friends with the Pastor's son, Robert, or Rob, as we all called him. Rob was a year older than me, and we had actually known each other probably from birth. But we didn't really connect with each other until at least my seventh grade year. I think that was about the time I started to become disillusioned with the church, and Rob became my unlikely confederate. Every year we went to church camp in the Arizona mountains near Prescott. And a small group of us dissenters gathered when the opportunity arose to express our frustration with the church's dogma. Now that's not to say any of us were atheists. At age eleven or twelve, probably none of us were. But we were all seriously questioning how the

Word of God

was being crammed down our throats.

Probably by the time I was a Freshman and Rob would have been a Sophomore, we had become a little more than just malcontents. We actually began to form a romantic interest in each other. And I think our respective parents were cool with it. Little did they know what mutiny lay in our hearts. However, I can say with all honesty that our physical intimacy never moved past kissing and maybe occasional necking. That much of my evangelical upbringing did seem to hold. Rob never got past

First Base,

that is, until my eighteenth birthday.

As luck would have it, my birthday fell on a Sunday. And as was the custom in our church, everyone that arrived early would gather in the fellowship hall for a cup of coffee and well,

fellowship.

Then, when it was time for the service to begin, they would all transition to the Auditorium. Yes, we had an

Auditorium

instead of a

Sanctuary,

just one more peculiarity of America's Mega Churches.

Occasionally Rob and I would hang back, skip church, and hide out in an empty room somewhere and make out. This was one of those days. As the crowd began to head for the Auditorium, Rob looped his pinky finger around mine, which was our silent signal to hang back. As the fellowship hall slowly emptied, Rob took my hand and whisked me toward the closet, where they stored the stackable chairs and the folding tables. As we ducted inside, Rob quickly looked over his shoulder to see if anyone saw us, and satisfied that we were good, he pulled the door closed.

I searched in the dark for a light switch, and when I couldn't find one, Rob cracked the door open just so we'd have a sliver of light. Then after kissing briefly in the standing position, he put his hands under my armpits and lifting me, placed me on top of the stack of folding tables. The height of the uppermost table was about three feet from the floor. So, my feet were just a few inches above the closet linoleum. Conveniently, as Rob was taller than me, this put his hips just about in alignment with mine.

Leaning forward, Rob continued kissing me for a minute before whispering in my ear, "Vicky, I have a birthday present for you."

"What is it?" I giggled.

"It's in my pants," he said as he began to nibble on my ear.

Butterflies shot through my stomach as I knew what he meant. But since I didn't say anything, he accepted my non-response as his permission to proceed. Rob stepped back and dropped his hands to my bare legs. Instantly, chill bumps covered my body, but that didn't slow his advance up my thighs, all the way to my panties. My first reaction was to spread my legs to allow him to run his fingertips across my tingling virgin lower lips. And as he accepted my complicit approval, he pressed on the moist fabric in order to judge my wetness. Apparently satisfied that this was his lucky day, he withdrew his hands from under my dress, pushed my legs back together, and then reaching under my dress a second time, looped his fingers under the waistband of my underwear and pulled them from my hips.

Rob was about as nervous as I was. But he did manage to get my panties clear of my right foot. However, the fabric snagged on the buckle of my left shoe, and Rob didn't have the patients to deal with it. So, he left my white cotton briefs just dangling there. Then stepping back one more time, he hastily unbuckled his belt, lowered his fly, and pushed his slacks to his knees.

The closet was dark, with only a glimmer of light seeping into the room. But it was enough to see my first adult penis, fully erect and ready for action. The head of his dick was dark purple in color and looked like

Darth Vader's

helmet. Just the thought that I was about to be pierced by the

dark side

sent a cold shiver shooting up my spine, but I knew this was my ticket to adulthood, and Rob was the guy to punch it. Stepping forward to where his thighs touched the stack of tables, Rob grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him until our genitals touched. Now taking ahold of the dark knight, he rubbed his reddish-purple helmet back and forth across my virgin lips to test my tightness.

The issue wasn't really how tight I was, but my level of lubrication. And after several unsuccessful tries to enter me, Rob stepped back one more time, spit in his hand, applied the moisture to the dark knight, and then ran the remainder of the wetness up my hairy southern slit. Nervous as a captured bird, Rob stepped up to bat again and holding his freshly lubed lightsaber in one hand, placed his other hand on my hip. I wasn't going anywhere, and he really didn't need to do that, but I guess he was just steadying his target. I was scared, but I was ready. Rob and I had been making out for several years by now, and I was definitely ready.

With the dark knight now freshly lubricated, Rob slowly began his trek to the promised land. I am a fiery redhead, and the patch between my legs definitely matches the rest of the hair on my body. So, at least in my case,

the carpet absolutely matches the drapes.

And as Rob's purple pecker parted my flaming outer lips, my inner lips slowly gave way to his relentless advance. Further, to my surprise, it didn't hurt. At least not as I had always been led to believe. At first, there was an uncomfortable pressure that I had never known before. And a newfound

fullness

that was totally foreign to me, but there was no sharp pain of a virgin membrane ripping or tearing.

Now whether Rob doubted my virginity or not, he never said. But in my own mind, I assumed that my hymen, if I'd ever had one in the first place, had been weakened or torn from years of using tampons. My mom would only buy my sisters and me napkins. But there were generally only tampons available in the girl's bathroom at school, and I took advantage of that ever since reaching high school.

So, as Rob's rod gently settled deep into my loins, a feeling of sensual security washed over my entire body, and I stretched my arms out to hold him. Sensing my need for intimacy, Rob placed his arms under my knees and spread my legs even further. In this position, with my legs now forming a giant

V

, Rob leaned as close to me as he could. With my panties still dangling from my left foot, Rob had probably only made eleven or twelve deep probing strokes, when suddenly and without warning, the closet door flew open, and light abruptly flooded the room.

"Hey! What's going on in here?" an adult male voice boomed.

It was one of the church ushers, and apparently, he had seen us going into the closet on the security camera monitor in the church office. And why he would ask such a rhetorical question was beyond me. He was married and had kids. So, I'm sure he recognized what we were doing.

Our parents, however, were not amused. Rob was placed in his dad's office, and I was seated in a conference room as my parents were summoned from the middle of the church service. Being the former Air Force SP and deputy sheriff, my dad immediately went into full

Bad Cop

mode. My mom was sobbing, and once she found a Kleenex and calmed herself, she took on the role of

Good Cop.

My dad did not physically threaten me; after all, I was an adult, and I could have charged him with

Assault

if he had actually hit me. However, he did go into his famous

Drill Sargent

routine. As I sat stoically at the end of the conference table, my dad stood there with his face just inches from mine, yelling at me. Telling me I was still a child, an unthinking harlot, and that I was bringing shame upon our righteous family. My mom just sat next to me, softly whimpering. She tried to hold my hand, but I pulled it away and folded my hands in my lap as I silently took my father's abuse.

When my dad was finished, after realizing that I wasn't going to verbally respond or defend myself, he stormed from the room. My mom sat silently for maybe a minute or more before retaking my hand, and this time did not allow me to pull away. "Vicky," she finally said softly. "Your father and I love you very much, and we only want to protect you." I continued to stare straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with her. "You only turned eighteen today, and though you may now consider yourself an adult, you are not," she continued. "You are still in high school, you still live under our roof, and therefore you will abide by our rules."

Still looking directly at the wall across the room, I said, "Mom, you don't treat me as a high school student. You treat me as your personal nanny. And an unpaid nanny at that." I paused to wait for her response, and when there was none, I turned to look her in the face. "I want to leave home. I don't want to be your maid or babysitter any longer." She slowly nodded her understanding and started to say something several times. But when the words just wouldn't come out of her mouth, she slowly stood and left the room without another word.

I honestly think she wanted to tell me that she and my dad had made the same mistake that they believed I was making. But she just couldn't bring herself to tell me that she was already pregnant when they were hastily married twenty-one years earlier. I fully acknowledge that I was not on birth control. And, though I was a stupid teenager, I did understand that a couple does not have to literally

complete the act

for the girl to get pregnant as there are enough viable sperm cells in a boy's pre-cum to get a girl impregnated. However, as our little coitus had become

coitus-interruptus,

I still felt that we were safe. If we had been able to finish the act, I guess that would have been another story.

After the Sunday church service, my parents returned to the conference room where I was still sitting, sulking that we had been caught, and collected me for the rather uncomfortable ride home. My older brother was away at college, but with my other five siblings, we endured the drive home in stone-cold silence. I don't know how word of my

deed

with Rob had spread so fast throughout the church, but it did. And in hindsight, I'm sure that's what my parents feared the most. Though I doubt I was the only teenager in our congregation who had been caught having sex, I'm pretty sure I was the only one to get caught - on my eighteenth birthday - fucking the preacher's son - in the fellowship hall closet. So, I admit that might have been embarrassing.

Over the next several days, I endured a couple of very uncomfortable discussions with my parents regarding my status in the household and my future plans. Though my father wanted to punish me with additional household chores, my mother took the opposite approach. I think she understood that I had unfairly been singled out for more than a fair share of domestic duties. So, by the end of the week, it was agreed that I would stay in the house and live at home until I graduated high school. That was only two months away, and I felt that I could do that. My household duties would be significantly scaled back as none of my younger siblings were in diapers, and there was no need for me to babysit them.

But also, it was agreed I would not see Rob again until I left home, and I consented to that as long as I could still talk to him on the phone and text him for up to one hour per day. And it was also agreed that I would not be required to attend Sunday worship services ever again. It was bad enough that I still had to attend the church's high school for the next two months, including the daily chapel service. However, I should mention that the Dean of Girls soon let me start skipping chapel and instead assigned me duties in the library during chapel services.

And it was also interesting that my old circle of friends immediately transformed into a new group of friends. Some of the girls I had been close to since preschool suddenly shunned me. And others, whom I rarely interacted with in the past, were soon very interested in getting to know me better. I found this interesting as I honestly had no idea that we had ever divided ourselves into cliques in the first place. The school was small by public school standards, and I had just always assumed that we were all friends equally. Boy, was I wrong.

As the day of my graduation approached, my initial plan was to have Rob pick me up at the school that night. But my parents talked me out of that as they argued that it was too public and would only embarrass our family more than I had already done. After thinking about it for several days, I agreed. We eventually settled on Rob picking me up at home the following day. The plan was that Rob and I would elope to Las Vegas. Mom wanted us to get married in Phoenix before we left town, but I think my dad was fed up with me. So, Mom didn't get her wish.

The morning after graduation, I was up early, packed, and ready to go before the sun. When Rob pulled up in front of our house, he didn't immediately get out of his car, but once he saw me open the front door, he raced to help me with my bags. Mom hugged me as I said goodbye, and I could see tears starting to fill her eyes. Rob and my dad did shake hands, but they exchanged the absolute minimum of words, and that was it. I was free, and it was the happiest day of my life.

As Rob and I headed north on Interstate 17, we talked non-stop as the miles and hours flew by. About two hours and one-hundred-forty miles later, we were approaching Flagstaff. "Rob," I said, "I need to pee."

"Me too," he replied. "And we need gas." Pulling into the first significant convenience store we came to, I ran in to use the lady's room while Rob filled the tank. Sitting in the stall, with my panties around my ankles, I realized that I probably didn't need them anymore. While still relieving myself, I slipped my underwear off over my shoes and stuffed them into my purse.

Walking back into the store, I saw Rob was still outside with the car, so I purchased some snacks for us, a bag of mini-donuts, a Big Gulp for me, and a Monster Energy drink for Rob. I was hoping he'd soon be needing the extra energy. He walked in to use the restroom while I was paying, and we both met back in the car a few minutes later.

Once we were back on the road, I opened my purse and pulled out my undies, and slowly stuffed them in the glove compartment without a word. I took my time to ensure Rob saw me, and he did. I was wearing a gabardine skirt, and now, from at least the waist down, nothing else. The skirt was one my mom had made. In order to save money, she made most of our clothes, and it was just one more thing I couldn't wait to shed myself of. She wouldn't let us wear pants or shorts in public, and besides, the school wouldn't allow them either, so I was used to wearing dresses and skirts. And in a situation like this, it certainly proved to be an advantage.

Rob's car, of course, had bucket seats, but I was able to slip out of the shoulder harness and rest my head on his shoulder. And to steady myself, I rested my hand on Rob's thigh. This clearly gave Rob license to rest his hand on my leg, and as he now knew that I wasn't wearing any panties, his knuckles were soon brushing up against my scarlet pubes. It felt so naughty and oh so good. I couldn't even believe how good it felt, and I was soon rubbing the front of his jeans with my hand.

I could feel his erection under his zipper, and though the powder sugar donuts and my Big Gulp had satisfied my sweet tooth, my mouth now watered for something salty and savory. As I continued to rub Rob's sausage, he had parted my pussy lips, and with the moisture his fingers had found there, he was now gently massaging my clit in tight little concentric circles.