Amanda Ch. 06

Rebecca sat in a pew at the back of Saint Monica's Roman Catholic Church. The interior of the church was cool and dim, and mostly empty. No mass was in progress. A few other people were waiting to say confession or, like Rebecca, waiting for a family member. A rather timid looking middle aged man was sneaking covert glances at Rebecca from the other end of the pew. She was accustomed to this sort of thing. Rebecca was a stunning blonde in her late thirties, whose rather conservative Sunday clothes could not completely hide her remarkable physical attributes.

After bearing her only child at age twenty, Rebecca had begun a program of sensible eating and yoga to recover from the pregnancy and childbirth. She would probably have looked great even without the exercise. Just lucky genes—her mother was a looker, too. Still, the yoga kept her stomach mostly flat and tennis, which she took up later, gave her a nicely rounded butt. Genetics alone, though, accounted for Rebecca's most noticeable assets: her lovely blue eyes and her stupendous tits.

Huge, cantaloupe-sized jugs which her daughter Amanda had, in turn, inherited from Rebecca. Amanda, who until recently seemed to be the perfect teenager. Who, at this very moment, was in the confessional just across the aisle from where Rebecca sat. Oh, Amanda, thought the sexy mom again, closing her eyes in pain and frustration. How could this happen? What is going on in your head? Your whole life is ahead of you, don't ruin it now! Graduation is only two months away, then college...

And what had our young heroine done to cause her mother such anguish? It had started Friday night when Amanda came home very late from an evening of volunteer work at a local mental health facility. Her clothes were disheveled and she had appeared to be high on something. On Saturday Amanda went to the mall with her mother. She later called from the police station, where she had been taken after being caught having sex in the parking lot with some boys from her school. Just Amanda and five boys! Drugs and alcohol were involved. The last straw had been Amanda's behavior at the police station. While in a holding cell, the gorgeous brunette teenager had performed lesbian sex acts with a policewoman and two prostitutes. Or had acts performed on her. Or some such lewd craziness—Rebecca was unclear on the details. She knew only that her daughter had told investigators that she didn't want to press charges, she had participated willingly.

Before all this happened Amanda was too shy even to date. Rebecca had encouraged her daughter to go out more, have fun, live life. But Amanda was always a bit awkward socially, and very uncomfortable with her body. That incredible body, desired by every boy at her school, quite a few of the girls, and a sizable percentage of the teaching staff (male and female). Rebecca herself took no small pleasure in looking at her daughter in a bikini. Now what is that noise? Rebecca was distracted from her ruminations by certain...sounds from the direction of the confessional.

It can't be, thought Rebecca. It sounds like...like someone having sex. Just like the huffing and puffing and grunting sounds her husband made on the rare occasions when he had enough energy to fuck his beautiful wife. But it's impossible! We're in a church! Old Father Carrick is hearing Amanda's confession only ten feet away. Father Carrick, who was seventy if he was a day, had listened to Rebecca's confessions when she was a girl. His hair, what he had left of it, was completely white, and he had to walk with a cane most days because of his arthritis. But that sound! What else could it be? Wait...maybe the old padre is having a heart attack. Rebecca looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one was sitting nearby. The man at the other end of the pew was still sneaking looks, but he was too far away to hear anything.

That had to be it—Father Carrick was having a heart attack or a stroke, and Amanda was too terrified to act. The panting grew louder and faster. Rebecca didn't want to disturb the sanctity of the confessional, but she had to know. She rose and crept silently across the aisle, stopping just outside the door where she knew her daughter knelt in prayer. The noise definitely came from behind the priest's door and was becoming more urgent. The man might be dying in there! Why didn't Amanda run screaming for help? Rebecca had to do something. She decided to check on her daughter first. Slowly, she turned the heavy brass doorknob. It didn't make a sound. Then she eased the thick oak door open an inch or two so that she could peer inside. The old church was very well maintained—the door hinges were perfectly silent. Inside the confessional it was even darker than the interior of the church. When Rebecca could finally see properly she got the biggest shock of her life.

Amanda was on her knees all right, but she wasn't praying—not in any accepted Catholic sense of the word. In the first place, her daughter's white blouse was unbuttoned to the waist. The teenager's huge tits had spilled over the tops of her lacy white bra cups and the puffy roseate nipples were visible in the dim light. Amanda's near hand was thrust under her skirt and was working feverishly between her legs.

But the most shocking sight of all was the long, fat prick that thrust in and out of her daughter's open lips. Amanda's other hand was busy stroking the thick shaft in coordination with her bobbing head. Her eyes were closed and her mouth stretched wide. It was one of the largest cocks that Rebecca had ever seen, much larger than her husband's, and it protruded from an opening in the grill that separated the two sides of the confessional. Father Carrick was having his having his dick sucked right there in church by Rebecca's gorgeous eighteen-year-old daughter.

Rebecca was too stunned to move. She could only watch, appalled, as Amanda shifted her grip on the priest's big dick and slowly moved her face closer to the partition, forcing the oversized phallus down her throat. The effect was immediate. Father Carrick let out a roar as the sweet teen eased the big organ out of her throat and jerked it off into her mouth. The old priest must have been saving it up for quite a while because Amanda couldn't contain all his ejaculate. Cum dribbled from her lips and rolled down her chin and onto her tits. Rebecca could see her daughter's throat working as she tried to swallow as much of the tremendous load as possible.

The horrified mom uttered the first words that came into her head.

"Jesus H. Christ!"

***

Later, back in her bedroom, Amanda knew she was in deep trouble. She had sucked the dick of a priest who had administered to the spiritual needs of her family for many years. This gentle old man had married her parents and heard their confessions. He had presided over her own First Holy Communion and listened to her trifling sins since she was a little girl. And now he was about to be disgraced and defrocked—because of her. There must be something terribly wrong with her to cause reasonable men (and women!) to throw caution to the wind in order to satisfy their base desires with her.

Just a few days earlier, before the weekend's events, Amanda thought she was a freak because her breasts were so large compared to the rest of her slender body. Not only that, but her tits seemed to be more sensitive than those of other girls: the slightest manipulation, especially of her nipples, caused her to grow almost feverish with desire. It seemed to the distraught teen that her big boobs were at the root of all her problems. All sorts of people (even old priests!) wanted to see and touch her titties so badly that they would risk extreme public embarrassment. And now in the span of just three days she had done things that she never could have imagined before, and done them with people from all walks of life. As far as she knew none of them had ever done anything like this before; ergo, she was problem. She was worse than just a freak. It meant that she was either mentally ill or possessed by the devil. Either way, Amanda knew she was bad, bad, bad.

Nick and Rebecca were discussing the situation downstairs in his home office. Rebecca was trying to dissuade him from going, "down to Saint Monica's and smashing that old fuck's head against the wall."

"Don't you think that would only make things worse?" she argued. "Then you'd be in prison and Amanda's life would really be a mess."

"It's already a mess! Look at what's been done to her in the last few days! "That old priest is a dead motherfu--"

"Please! Just let the police handle it."

"The police! Have you forgotten what happened at the police station yesterday? That filthy dyke! I'll fucking kill her too..."

"Nick, don't do anything crazy. Amanda says that lady cop didn't use force. You can't blame it all on other people. Our daughter bears some responsibility for this mess."

"Oh, god," he moaned. "What are we going to do?"

"Well...I have an idea."

Nick looked at his wife like a drowning man eyes a life preserver. "Yeah? What?"

"Remember Amanda telling us about a Dr. Scott at the nuthouse where she volunteers? She seems to trust him, and he is a professional. Maybe he can figure out her problem."

"So you think Amanda is wacko? You think my little girl is loony?"

"No, I don't think she's loony. But maybe there's something going on in her head that she can't tell us about. Parents are always the last to know. Or maybe it's a kind of chemical imbalance or something. Let me take her to see him tomorrow. It's worth a try."

"Okay, fine," answered her husband. "I'll wait until you get home before I kill the fucking priest."

And so it was settled. Rebecca would take their daughter to see Dr. Scott in the morning. Little did she know that the good doctor could hardly wait to get his hands on sweet Amanda again.

***

As she lay in bed that night, Amanda went back again and again in her mind to the events of the last few days. A whole new world of sensual experience had opened to her, and she had discovered some surprising facts about herself. First, there was no reason to be embarrassed about her breasts even if they were much bigger than those of other girls. Also she had found that girls could give her as much or even more sexual pleasure than men. And the most startling fact of all was that shame and humiliation were arousing to her. Her recent history had confirmed it beyond any doubt.

Did all this mean she was crazy? She wondered. If you'd asked her a few days earlier she wouldn't have believed she was capable of these thoughts and behaviors. As she thought about all that had happened, the gorgeous brunette teen grew aroused. She began to touch her nipples through the fabric of the oversized t-shirt she was wearing. They got hard immediately. She pinched them lightly and squeezed her titties together. Her legs squirmed against the sheets. The t-shirt began to feel restrictive, and Amanda quickly slipped it over her head. She gave a little gasp as her hands made contact with her bare titflesh, and her pussy started to moisten. Thinking about a certain big black cock, she lifted first one nipple and then the other to her mouth to be sucked. The sensation was like a bolt of lightning straight to her clit.

Holding one breast to her mouth, Amanda's free hand strayed to her cotton covered pussy lips. Very gently she ran her fingertips over the mound between her legs. "Uhhnnnnn," she sighed. Now that she'd had her first orgasm (and many more) she wanted to see if she could make it happen for herself. The slender teen dipped her fingers inside the waistband of her knickers and slid them along her tender snatch. She had decided that she liked having a shaved cootchie, and earlier that night while lying in the tub she had gone over her whole crotch with her dad's razor, even pulling her knees up around her ears to get the sparse hairs growing near her asshole. Her cunt was perfectly smooth and she loved the way it felt.

Stroking her labia gently, Amanda explored every fold of her sex. The tip of her middle finger strayed into her slit and found the wetness there. Her finger sank deeper into her honeypot, and it was good. She spread the girl goo to her clit and the lips of her pussy, then lifted the slimy finger to her mouth and tasted it. Spreading her legs wide, Amanda slid both hands down to her snatch. She used one hand to hold the lips of her pussy open while shoving two fingers up her juicy fuckhole. "Oh shit," she whispered. The heavenly teenager speared herself with the two fingers while thumbing her clit. But she needed more...

On the dresser next to her bed was a hairbrush. It had a long, cylindrical handle with a series of smooth ridges running around its diameter. Rolling onto her stomach and sticking her ass in the air, Amanda grabbed the brush and wet the tip of the handle in her mouth. She reached behind her back and gently inserted it into her sopping cunt. By slowly twisting the brush she was able to get more and more of the long handle inside her hole. The sexy teenager began to slowly fuck herself with her hairbrush. "Yes yes yes," she whimpered. "Oh God, yes..."

With her shoulders down on the mattress she moved her free hand up between her legs to diddle her clit. She was getting close...but she couldn't seem to get over the edge. And then she thought about what Officer Pennington had done in the jail cell. It surely was a dirty and sinful thing to do, and confessing it to Father Carrick had driven the poor man into disgrace. But it felt sooooo good...

And that is how it came to pass that Amanda, who had never considered the sexual potential of her butthole until the previous day, wet a finger and slowly eased it past her sphincter up to the second knuckle. Her whole body shuddered. "Oh fuck yes!" she moaned. Her face, buried in a pillow, was suddenly bathed in sweat. Hips rocking, toes curling, and asshole clenching around her finger, Amanda experienced her first self-administered orgasm. And she wondered: Am I a slut?

***

In the morning, Rebecca and her daughter were both quiet on the way to see Dr. Scott. Amanda was feeling remorseful about the trouble she'd caused. Her mother was hopeful that a mental health professional could get to the root of Amanda's 'problem.' Nurse Constance greeted them at the main entrance. She was terrified that the girl's parents had learned of their daughter's wild night at the clinic, and were about to raise holy hell. Rebecca calmly asked to meet with Dr. Scott in private. Nurse Constance left them seated together on a leather sofa in the doctor's comfortable office.

Rebecca knew nothing about Dr. Scott and was shocked to discover that he was Derek Scott, former NBA star famous for attending medical school during the off season and now retired from professional basketball. In his mid-forties, he was tall, black, well-dressed and, Rebecca thought, very good looking. His hair was a little gray at the temples, a look the sexy blonde mom had always found attractive. He greeted mother and daughter warmly, and Rebecca actually blushed when he shook her hand, telling her she could be Amanda's sister. Rebecca practically fawned over the handsome doctor, which actually caused her daughter to feel jealous.

As he spoke to the two women sitting on his couch, Derek's head swam with filthy possibilities. Having reached middle age, a fact that was not easy for him to accept, Dr. Scott found that he was filled with lust for teenaged girls. As a star in the NBA he had his choice of young groupies, white, black, and every shade in between. It was no big deal; he could take it or leave it. But now that he was out of the spotlight, he no longer had girls throwing themselves at him. He appreciated the dewy elasticity of young girls' bodies as he never had when he himself was young. And Amanda...she was a dream come true.

Everything about her screamed out: 'violate me.' Her skin. Her legs. Her ass. Her big beautiful tits. Her gorgeous, cover model face. And she was so malleable. She could be made to do the kinkiest things, while putting up just enough resistance to make things...interesting. And now there she sat with her mother, who, though no longer in the full blush of youth like Amanda, was nevertheless a very sexy woman. He wondered if she had pink nipples like her daughter...

When the doctor asked what he could do for them, Rebecca suggested that it would be easier to speak without her daughter present. Amanda agreed. She didn't think she could stand the embarrassment of listening to her mother recount the unseemly details of the last few days. Dr. Scott left Rebecca sitting on the couch and led her daughter to an adjacent exam room, where she perched on the table. "How you doing baby?" he asked, cupping her chin in his big hand.

"I—I'm fine," she stammered, blushing, thinking about the things they'd done together.

"Listen: what did you tell your mama about Friday night?" suddenly intense, gripping her jaw hard with his fingers.

"Nothing! I haven't told anyone! I swear!"

He grinned and released her. "Then we're cool. Everything's gonna be all right." Giving her face a light playful slap, he left the room.

Returning to his office, he gave the blue-eyed mom his warmest smile. "Now," he said. "Tell me what's troubling you." And she did. Omitting for the moment Amanda's state when she got home Friday night, Rebecca explained the scenario in the parking lot that resulted in her daughter's arrest, the jail incident itself, and the fiasco at the church. Dr. Scott listened attentively. He was thinking: Jesus, this little high school chick is even hornier that I thought...and an idea started to form.

"I see," he said when she had finished. "And you're concerned that she may be..."

"I don't know what to think! I was hoping you could tell me. She was always a good girl. A little, well, boring even. So straight-laced. I was always trying to get her to loosen up. But now she's gone completely in the other direction. I don't know what's come over her all of a sudden."

"Let me talk to her for a few minutes. I don't want to alarm you, but this might be serious." He excused himself politely and stepped into the room across the hall where Amanda was waiting on the exam table. He jotted something on a prescription pad and called Nurse Constance. When she entered, he handed it to her and said, "Please have a hypodermic drawn immediately."

The nurse's eyes bulged when she read the prescription, but she merely answered, "Yes, Doctor," and left the room. The dose that he called for combined two very powerful mind-altering drugs: Demerol and Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, otherwise known as LSD. Derek's plan had taken shape in his mind, and he thought with the aid of the chemical cocktail he might just pull it off.

While Nurse Constance was gone from the room he chatted with the chestnut haired teenager, gently massaging her neck with his big paw. She quickly relaxed, renewing the rapport they'd shared last week in the clinic. After a few innocuous questions he said, "Your mama tells me you been gettin' it on with everybody you meet. You like that shit, huh?"

Amanda blushed bright pink.

Derek went on ruthlessly. "Now your folks are worried that their little girl is some kind of freak or something, right?" The girl looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears. "And you know what? I think they're right. You are a freak. You're the kind of freak we professionals call a nym-pho-maniac. That means you like to fuck a lot. Ain't that right?"

"No, I'm not a freak," she said, but in a voice that said she wasn't convinced herself. This had to be a bad dream...

Just then Nurse Constance entered and began to fill the hypodermic needle. "Good," said Dr. Scott. "Our little friend here needs a little calming down." Amanda was clearly upset. Tears rolled down her cheeks. When the needle was ready Nurse Constance, a fit slender thirty-four-year-old, raised Amanda's skirt and used a cotton swab to clean and disinfect a spot on the teen's upper thigh.