Katrina and I had been...not exactly friends, more like mutual acquaintances, for years, and as far as the rest of our church family was concerned, we were perfect little angels. Of course, it didn't hurt that my dad was on the church board and her dad was the preacher. Every Sunday, a couple hours before the service started, she and I were in the main sanctuary helping set up for the day. We were often left unsupervised because we were trusted...and "Jesus was watching anyways". Well...Jesus must be blind, because if he saw what Katrina and I did in that building on one fateful morning, I probably wouldn't be writing this story. Funny thing about teenagers...the quiet ones are the ones you should watch the most. I still get hard replaying the events of that Sunday...half the time I don't believe it happened, and I was part of it.
The morning started off like they always had for the last several years: both of our families arrived around 830 to unlock the building, our moms went to the childcare area to set up the nursery, the old men went to start the coffee and discuss the day's sermon, and Katrina and I were left to tidy up. We were both 18 at the time, Katrina's birthday being only a couple months before my own. Being seniors in high school, our conversation was the usual talk of finals, graduation, and college as we tidied up the rows of pews. I say conversation, but Katrina was a very quiet, spacey girl, so it was mostly me trying to be friendly without much luck.
Looking back, Katrina was an attractive enough girl. Certainly not supermodel pretty, but attractive in her own way. She was on the petite side, probably 5'1" on a good day; she wasn't fat by any means, but her lack of height made it more noticeable, according to her. She had a point -- I've yet to see a woman with an hourglass figure like hers -- her ass was that perfect combination of tone and volume that only comes from years of gymnastics and horse riding. And her tits...lord almighty she could give Kate Upton a run for her money. So large and smooth, yet firm and youthful. Naturally, being in a conservative family, she covered herself in flowing dresses to hide her womanly figure in church, but fabric can only cover so much. She also didn't wear much in the way of makeup or jewelry...in fact her only accessory was her ever-present satchel bag she used to keep a collection of notebooks. She said she wanted to be a writer, and so it was important to always have a notepad to jot ideas.
She set her bag down on the table next to the main door and excused herself to go use the restroom as I continued to vacuum the floor. Not paying attention to what I was doing, I backed into the table, sending her bag and its contents flying across the floor.
"What a ditz" I thought to myself. "She can't even bother to close her own bag." I started to gather her stuff and toss it haphazardly into the bag, when I noticed one of her notebooks was lying face-up, and there on the page was a drawing of an ENORMOUS penis. Curious as to why a perfect little angel would draw such a thing, curiosity got the better of me and I began to thumb through the lewd tome.
My eyes went wide as saucers as I glanced at page after page of erotic scribbles, doodles, and poems; whole pages were devoted to her deepest cravings and darkest desires. Not only did Katrina have fantasies, but kinky ones at that. Some of the things she described I had only seen in the dark corners of the internet, and still others I had never even heard of. I also noticed a running theme of Hierophilia -- sex scenarios involving religious themes -- as well as force/rape fantasy...It became very clear that 18 years of sexual repression had done a number on her imagination. She wanted to be tied and spanked with a hymnal book and wrote about wanting to be fucked by a nun, but most of all she wanted to be taken right here, in this very chapel! As I skimmed the rest of the pages, I determined that she had never shared these thoughts with anyone, nor had she acted on them. She was even still a virgin! After I reached the final page, I shoved the notebook back in the bag and returned it to the table as a devilish idea began to form in my mind.
Glancing around, I walked up onto the stage and stepped through the side door into the storage closet and waited until I heard the chapel door open. I stuck my head out to make sure it was Katrina, and more importantly, that she was alone. "Hey Katrina!" I called out. "Can you come give me a hand with something? I can't find the garbage bags."
"Um...sure thing" she replied as she began walking down the main aisle.
