Memoir Of A Young Mistress Pt 01

It all started because Emily had a cold.

It was a disappointment in more ways than one. First, having a cold sucked. Nothing tasted right, everything hurt, and overall, she was miserable.

Second, she loved going to Youth Group on Sundays. All of her favorite friends were there. Having been home schooled since second grade wasn't conducive to making much of a circle of friends, so the group at Sea Coast Baptist Church was her social life.

Third, today was a special Sunday; it was the first Sunday of the new month after her 18th birthday, and that meant she "graduated" up into the older half of Youth. She cursed having to wait so long, as her birthday was early in the month, so she'd had to wait almost a full four weeks until she could move up to the next class.

The younger class was teens aged 13-17; the older 18-21. She was terribly excited to be part of the "adults". She was the last of her circle of friends to make the move. Kayla was the oldest; she had moved up last fall. Amy and Tawny went right after the new year. The last friend to leave her behind was her best friend Sierra, in the summer. It was fall now, and she had finally caught up with her besties.

Fourth, and maybe the worst part, being home sick meant not only missing Youth, it meant not being in the presence of the incredibly hot Mister Carson.

Ted Carson had joined the staff at SCBC two years ago and immediately stirred things up at a rather tepid church. He was a dynamic leader, charismatic, witty, very liberal-minded (for a Baptist church at least), and yes, very good looking. Literally every girl in Youth had a tremendous crush on him. Married, in his late forties, he had the graying good looks of a George Clooney.

Insisting right away that everyone in his class call him "Mister Ted" or just "Ted", instead of "Mister Carson" or "Brother Carson" scored him plenty of Cool Points with the youth, and stern disapproval from the elder, more traditional members of the congregation. What they couldn't deny though, was that in just a few months he had taken a tiny handful of semi-attending kids and grown the group into one of the largest youth programs in their side of town.

He introduced community projects, out-of-town trips (all paid for by aggressive fund-raising drives), and a music program that included a choir and a praise band. This growth spilled over into the church as a whole, and if there was one thing that made Baptists happy, it was a full church (with plenty of tithing members). So, despite his liberal, unconventional attitude, Ted Carson was a very popular staff member at SCBC.

So, Emily was not happy at all.

The sore throat was the worst of it; it made eating torture, so she had deliberately avoided food at all costs, and that had made her even weaker. Now she was in bed, nursing a glass of Gatorade and browsing MySpace on her laptop.

Every Sunday afternoon the church's page posted video clips of the service (another innovation suggested by Mister Ted) and Emily kept checking the page hoping to catch the praise band, and a glimpse of Ted. Emily had a thing for him, just like all the others, and she was hoping he had done a solo in today's praise band music, so she could see a close-up.

Youth Minister Ted Carson sat at his computer, waiting for the video file of today's service clips to upload. He wasn't as tech-savvy as many thought. He really was just learning as he went along, but he saw the potential of internet media and social networking to grow the youth group's numbers and help promote the church overall, so he accepted the unofficial title of church webmaster.

He had created a MySpace page for the church and the youth group, and his own personal page was used to post videos and announcements for the group's upcoming activities. It was certainly easier to post a bulletin to all the kids in his class than to call or mail all of them, so he was grateful for the new technology.

Sometimes he explored the pages of his students out of curiosity and got a headache from all the glittery flashing displays and auto-playing music, but it was a good way to keep abreast of their current likes and dislikes, and reading the comments and conversations that went back and forth publicly helped him stay on top of any feuds or cliques before they formed.

He was amused to see how many of the girls in the group had him in their "Top 9" or "Top 12" lists of contacts. He wasn't completely oblivious to his popularity among the female students. It helped remind him of what a great opportunity he had to have a positive influence on the lives of so many impressionable people. He did, however find his mind occasionally wandering as he looked at the girls' pictures. He'd catch himself saying the old phrase in his mind, "Where were all these pretty girls when I was a teenager?" to which he'd answer, "Not even born yet, man."

It was hard not to let his mind wander, considering the turn his married life had taken the last couple of decades.

Ted Carson married the first girl he ever dated, and the first girl he ever kissed. It just felt right, and things always seemed just the way things were supposed to be, and, since he had no other frame of reference to compare, he was satisfied. Now he was at the point many men fear; the dreaded middle ages. This is where it's obligatory to look back over one's life and compare it to others in one's peer group, and feel depression at how much less the reality compares to the dreams of his early twenties. Two children, grown with kids of their own, a decent job, a mortgage, and two cars. Is this all there is?

"This," he thought to himself, "is what a mid-life crisis feels like."

One of the other advantages to all this technology was something he had never had in his youth: easy access to pornography. Growing up in a church family doesn't create clean-minded, moral people; it creates sexually frustrated people. Ted navigated to the folder that was buried deep in the bowels of his PC that was innocently labeled, "Study Notes".

He opened it and began browsing the files stored there. Not a huge collection, but enough to satisfy him when he felt the urge to fantasize. Less than a hundred images and videos, but all what he considered to be "the best of the best", he clicked from one file to the next, feeling a slowly growing bulge in his pants.

Ted loved his wife. He loved his family. He told himself he would never do anything outwardly to hurt them in any way, ever. He knew that marriage was forever; a sacred promise, and that if things weren't going the way he wished they were, it wasn't anyone's fault but his own. Communication was important. So, years ago, after the birth of their second child, Ted expressed to his wife his desires to explore new areas of lovemaking. His first ventures into erotic fiction, and later pornography, had stirred primal feelings he had never felt before, and he wanted to share and explore these new things with his wife.

Sex with his wife had always been very straightforward; the sort of thing more than one stand-up comic described as "man-on-top-get-it-over-with-quick". Always the same routine: some kissing, some light petting, gentle foreplay, then missionary position. Anything deviating from the routine was "perverted" to his wife, who also grew up in the church. Things like oral sex of any kind or role playing were not an option. But the more he read and saw the things he was missing, the more he wanted to experience them. He tried subtly at first, initiating things in the bedroom, but was always rebuffed. Discussing the ideas in conversation met with the same rejection, along with an accusation that he had been "spending too much time watching the cable channels".

So, the only reasonable option he could think of was to keep a small secret from his wife. He would enjoy the sex he wanted vicariously, through masturbation and fantasy. Looking at the girls in the pictures and the videos helped satisfy his needs, and to him, it wasn't cheating. He wasn't actually having sex with these women. It was just a small sin, and he hoped he would be forgiven for it. He imagined himself actually in the presence of the beautiful girls, displaying themselves to him in such arousing poses. He imagined he was the recipient of the oral pleasures he saw being given, and he imagined himself as the giver of the pleasures given in return.

He closed the folder quickly as he heard his wife coming downstairs. Rearranging himself in the chair, he thought of as many non-arousing things as he could to make the bulge in his pants go away. His wife stuck her head in the room of his study.

"I'm going to the grocery store. You want anything?"

"Uhhh...I'm low on shampoo. And maybe get some apples?" he replied. He still had the images in his mind, and couldn't focus that well on a shopping list.

His wife left and he heard the car pulling out of the garage.

"Play time," he said out loud. Lately, he had taken every opportunity to masturbate when his wife was out. It was another of those "forbidden, sick" pleasures he wanted, and so he was usually only able to satisfy himself when she was away. He considered a session at the desk, watching the images, but they were fresh enough in his mind that he decided to enjoy the comfort of laying in his bed. More than once he had told his wife he was sleepy during the day and wanted to "take a nap", and was able to have short sessions even though she was home; but a full, good jerk only happened while she was out of the house.

He went upstairs to their bedroom, stripped to his boxers, and dimmed the lights. Laying on top of the cool sheets, he closed his eyes and slid his hand inside his waistband and absently began to run his fingertips over his limp organ. In his mind he scanned through all the pictures and settled on a favorite: a beautiful girl about twenty, with short brown hair and blue eyes. The picture was taken from the point of view of the man she was with. She was taking his erect cock deep into her mouth, and looking up at the camera. She was nude, and the composition of the picture was intended to fully show off her body. Her breasts hung free, and he imagined how they must have swayed back and forth as she slid her mouth up and down on the man's cock. One hand was between her legs, and he imagined how wet she must have been.

He wondered what it would be like. "If only. If only I could have a wife that would do that with me."

Stroking more steadily now, he imagined himself in the place of the man who took the picture. He felt his now-firm erection in his fingers and tried to convince his mind that it was instead in the mouth of that beautiful young girl. He imagined her looking up at him with eyes that said she wanted him, and that she was readying herself for him as she played with herself.

Ted's mind was a crowded place; full of almost fifty years of experiences, desires, fantasies, and memories. As he stroked his erection, the girl's face drifted and blurred to other girls he had known in his life that looked similar, including one he had wanted to date before he met his wife, but never got up the nerve to ask out. He also saw actresses he fancied, again merging them with the pretty short-haired girl. Then he saw a face that he knew quite well. She had never before entered his mind during a playing session. He saw Emily, the newest member of his class. He let the image linger as he stroked.

Emily was what Ted considered girl-next-door pretty. Deep blue eyes, short brown hair, very light skin with a clean complexion. She was 5'1", which always caused her to keep a greater-than-usual distance from him when they spoke, so that she didn't have to crane her neck to make eye contact with his six-foot frame. She usually dressed very much in a tomboy manner; jeans and tee shirts, with white socks and sneakers. Once in a great while she would wear a top that showed a little cleavage and it was definitely a distraction, for her breasts were around a large C cup, maybe even a D, and wide hips to match, creating what Ted considered to be a most attractive figure. His fantasy grew more focused on Emily as he approached his climax. He imagined her full breasts swaying back and forth as her head bobbed up and down on him, and her hand caressing the wetness between her legs.

When he came, the image in his mind was 100% Emily, and he imagined her lips pulling off the head of his cock with a smacking sound just before he unloaded, but then opening her mouth again to eagerly receive his cum on her tongue. He groaned audibly, and the image was sharper in his mind than any fantasy had ever been. He shuddered as the spasms finished, and he let his mind linger on Emily's deep blue eyes.

The sound of the garage door opening downstairs made him jump, and he wiped himself clean with some tissues and quickly dressed, flushing the evidence away in the bathroom. As he went downstairs to help his wife bring in the groceries, his thoughts kept going back to his newly-created picture of Emily. "What an incredible thing that would be," he mused to himself.

End of part one.