Lighten Up Ch. 01

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!

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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!"

She smiled even wider now, and I saw the temptress within taking full control. "It's not a sin," she said, stepping toward me. I should have stepped backwards. Should have run from her like Joseph from Potiphar's wife. But I didn't, and she advanced closer. "It's not a sin at all. It's fucking paradise. Just feel, Paul. Feel how perfect my 'dirty' little body is."

And then her hands were on my wrists again, and she pulled my palms to her breasts. It was a reflex; I squeezed, and a moan emerged from my mouth. I closed my eyes and massaged her smooth skin-smoother than her calf, even-and rolled the nipples between my fingers. That made her moan.

"You like them, don't you, Pauly?" she asked. I nodded and she angled her head up to kiss me again, crushing my hands against my chest when I refused to let go of her bosom. "Then tell me."

"I like them," I groaned.

"You like what?" She asked. "What do you like so much?"

"Your . . . your body. Your chest."

"No, Paul. No. This isn't Sunday school. You're not in church. Call them what they are."

"Your breasts," I said, my cheeks on fire.

"No," she pulled back and gave me a light playful slap across the face. "Tell me you like my fucking tits, Paul."

I nearly choked on the words, but I had to say them. I was a lust-filled animal, and I wanted to please her. "I like . . . I love your . . . your tits." The word came out as barely a whisper as the spark of shame flickered in my chest.

But it was loud enough for her to hear. She laughed triumphantly and grabbed the back of my neck, pulling my head down into her chest. My mouth attacked her, licking, sucking, kissing her, my tongue swirling circles around her nipples.

"Say it again," she moaned in my ear. "Say it again, you naughty fucker."

It came easier the second time. So much easier. It was like opening a door inside, and all the things I had kept down for twenty years, at my father's guidance-all of it started to come free. "I love your tits, April. I've . . . I've never seen real tits before, and you . . . your body is so perfect." I dropped my head again, nursing on that gorgeous mound of flesh.

"Yeah, baby," she said. "Tell me how perfect."

"It's . . . it's FUCKING perfect." I nearly shouted it, and I felt the weight of everything my father had pressed on me for so long starting to let go with that simple word. Fuck. FUCK! Was this what he was afraid of? That I would realize how good all the things he'd tried to keep from me were? I dragged my tongue up the curve of her tit, sucking lightly at the hollow of her neck, and then my lips were on hers again. And this time I felt her hands at my crotch, undoing my belt, then pulling at the button, tugging the zipper, and suddenly the cool air was on my naked lower body as she shoved my hiking pants down.

My hardness sprang from my pants, eight inches of thick hard meat standing at attention, and still growing. April gasped and dropped to her knees. She wrapped her little hand around it, the fingers not quite meeting her thumb, and slowly stroked it up and down as she looked up into my eyes.

"Jesus Christ! This fucking thing is huge! Paul," she said. "How many of those good Christian girls back home have played with this dick?"

"None," I groaned. "You're the first."

She spit on her hand, the saliva serving as lubricant as she kept softly caressing my shaft. "You mean no one has ever jerked this big, hard cock but you? I'm the first girl to stroke this giant thing?"

"I . . . I don't even play with it myself. My father calls masturbating a filthy sin."

Her eyes lit with a lustful fire, and her thumb pressed on the head of penis. A drop of wetness was emerging from the slit, and she spread it around the helmet with her thumb, then popped the thumb into her mouth, licking it.

"Oh he does, does he?" she asked, and I don't know whether I felt relieved or horrible when she let go of my penis. I couldn't help myself, I grabbed the base of the shaft and began to stroke it myself, slowly first, and then harder as I watched what April's next move.

She backed away from me, leaning against a downed tree, sitting on the soft green grass. She lifted her hips and pulled down her tiny little hiking shorts. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and after she lifted one foot out of her shorts, allowing them to stay bunched up around the other ankle, she spread her legs and revealed her feminine secret to me.

"Oh Jesus," I whispered.

"Not Jesus," she smiled. "Pussy. This is my pussy. Do you like it?"

I nodded, spellbound. Like her tits, it was perfect. Shaved bare except for a small triangle of hair just above the entrance. Her lips were thick and dark, but as she spread her legs I got glimpses of the bright pink within. I wanted to crawl inside and live forever in that soft pink.

"Tell me you like it," she demanded.

"I like it," I repeated automatically.

"No," she said, an evil smile on her face. "Say it right. You have to use the right words or it's no fun. Tell me you like my pretty little pussy."

"I . . . I like your pretty little pussy, April."

"My cunt," she said.

I shook my head. "I can't say that. It's too dirty."

She sneered at me, but it was lust, not disgust, that animated her face. "That's the fucking point, Paul. It's fucking dirty. The best things in life are dirty and raw and wet and sticky. They're not prim and proper. I see that animal inside you Paul," she said, and now her fingers were tracing the lips of her pussy, gathering the increasingly leaking wetness on her fingertips. "I want you to let that beast out."

I groaned.

"Your daddy was wrong about masturbating," she said. "It's not bad. It's so motherfucking good." Her ring finger and middle finger came together, darting inside her wetness. She slid them in and out, first just to her first knuckles, and then to her second, as she kept talking. "Goddamn, Paul, my little cunt is so fucking wet. And it feels so damn good."

She pulled her fingers out and stuck them between her lips, sucking the wetness of her own honey pot into her mouth. "So damn good. Do you want to see more?" she asked.

I pushed down my father's voice and nodded as I watched her fingers trace the outline of her love tunnel again.

"Then fucking say it," she hissed at me, her eyes narrowing. "Tell me to finger my cunt."

She wanted the beast that had been chained up for twenty years to be set free. Once she loosened the shackles, I couldn't stop him even if I wanted to.

I didn't want to.

My hand began to stroke my cock again, more firmly now, not the tentative strokes I'd given it before, and I growled, "Finger your fucking cunt, you she-devil. You whore. You bitch."

God it felt so unbelievably good. I had been living for so long under a burden I didn't even recognize, and once I began to let go of my old morality, all I could see in front of me was pleasure. To feel good. God would want that, wouldn't he? For us to enjoy these bodies he'd made for us?

And, a voice inside me, the one I'd been tamping down during my father's sermons, said, "And if not, fuck it."

We were just a yard away from each other, me jacking my thick cock, her jilling her wet gash, staring inently at each other. Her wetness was spreading across the inside of her thighs, up into the little patch of hair above her cunt as she worked her fingers deep inside of her. Her other hand grasped her fat tits, pinching the nipples between her fingers. Every few strokes she'd push at the top of her pussy, to what she later taught me was her clit, with the heel of her hand, and then she'd pull her hand out and suck on her fingers. I wanted to taste what she was tasting so bad my mouth was watering. Both of us were whimpering with pleasure.

"That's right," she moaned. "I AM a fucking bitch. A little whore. And I'm going to corrupt you, preacher boy. I'm going to turn you into a fucking man instead. Right here. Right now. You're going to learn the gospel of fucking. Doesn't stroking that thick hard dick feel fucking good?"

I nodded, my breath coming shallowly. "I love it," I grunted.

"You've been missing out, Pauly baby. But don't worry. April is here to teach you everything you could ever imagine. I'm going to teach your monster cock how to properly FUCK, and when I'm done you'll be a fucking stud for life. You want that? You want me to make you feel good?"

I nodded, "Fuck yes I do, April. I want to commit every sin I can think of with you."

She laughed again, her fingers pistoning out of her little cunt so fast her hand was a blur, and then she shuddered and groaned loudly, her back arching, her ass lifting off the ground, thrusting her tits up into the air as she had the first of many orgasms. I watched as an extra flow of her juices squirted out around her hand onto the grass. At first I thought she might be pissing herself, but whatever it was, it was sexy. It pushed me over the top, and suddenly I felt my balls churning, a load of cum racing up the length of my cock and then firing free. I roared as it arced across the space between us and landed on her upthrust breasts, pasting a long white stream that ran from the hollow of her neck down across her left breast, cum glazing and hanging from her hard nipple. The second stream followed a similar path. As her orgasm subsided and her muscles relaxed, she sat back down, and another stream hit her straight in the face, covering one eye, her nose, plugging one nostril and coating across her lips. Here eyes-well one of them-opened in surprise. In her orgasm she hadn't noticed me cumming, but by the time the next rocket of jizz fired from my meat cannon she was ready, her mouth open, leaning forward, her hands under her tits, offering them to me along with her waiting tongue.