tagErotic CouplingsChildren of Sin Ch. 1

Children of Sin Ch. 1

byJohnnyPsycho©

Chapter 1: Lust

This story is part one in a (hopefully) seven-part saga, exploring the classic "Seven Deadly Sins" by relating them into characters, turning each sin into a living, breathing person. It started as a simple idea for a drawing where I showed all Seven Deadly Sins as children, each one displaying not only how each character commits each sin, but how each character is victimized by it. The main character and the title sin is introduced in this chapter (as well as a key character who will appear with a future sin all his own). Please let me know what you think. It's a pretty long story, but once I get typing, it's hard for me to stop. Enjoy, and please tell me what you think. I promise to submit the newer chapters as soon as I get around to writing them.

Christ, I don't know how to start these damn things out. For some reason, starting with "Once Upon a Time" doesn't feel quite right. Especially not for this type of story. So I'm just going to get straight to the point, the best way I know how...

Leslie was a total slut. Oh, she was a very nice girl, a straight-A honor-roll student all through high school. She was sweet to almost a fault, having an almost child-like innocence in her green eyes with every word she spoke. She never spoke out of turn, never caused problems in class, never gossiped or had bad words about anyone. She was every teacher and parent's dream child. She was also the star of many wet-dreams among the male students and faculty at her school, and even a few female ones. She was the type of girl that you could very easily have very impure thoughts about, but at the same time feel very guilty for it because of her flawless, angelic character. She had always been rather tall, even as a child, and by the time she had become a senior, she was about 5'9" tall with long, slender legs. Her straight, light-brown hair shone as it fell almost as far as her tight, round ass that always seemed to be accentuated by the skirts that she often wore, swishing her delicious derriere back and forth as she walked down the hallway. She wasn't a total fashion-fanatic like some of the other girls in her class, but she always looked her best in whatever she wore, filling out the plainest of blouses and sweaters with her lovely, full breasts. She wasn't among the largest chests in her school, but she had to be a good B or C cup at least.

She was the Homecoming Queen, and at her graduation at the end of the year, she was sure to be honored as the valedictorian. She was always the center of attention whenever she walked in the room. However, it wasn't always the type of attention that one as sweet as her would have liked. As is the case in many high schools (as I'm sure many of you may remember), people who attract attention to themselves, are among the more popular or attractive of their class, are often the victims of gossip and envy. She was no exception. However, the rumors going around about her were that she was a total prude, an "Ice Queen", and a cock-tease. Her virginal persona was so convincing, many found her unattainable and, at the same time, irresistible... and that's how she liked it.

Her special talent was lust. She controlled it. It bent to her will, and she knew best of all that the most alluring prize was the one most unreachable. Unfortunately, being the object of desire for as long as she had, her special talent was starting to control her in turn. It was getting harder and harder for her to keep her instincts, her sensual desires in check. She would have loved to had any of the members of the football team bang the shit out of her until her pussy bled, or one of her teachers suck on her ever-throbbing clit, but she knew best of all how dangerous something like that would be. Almost a year ago, she had started a secret relationship with a teacher in her school, and she was so ready to give it up to him on many occasions. Mr. Busey was a very attractive man in his early thirties, and had been her geometry teacher. They would often meet in secret after school or during their lunch hour to make-out, groping each other on his desk in his classroom or sneaking off in to the steamy boiler-room. He had a thick cock, and she had enjoyed jacking him off as their tongues wrestled in each others mouths, while his strong hands worked on her pussy, getting her panties drenched with the insistent pawing. They had even managed to go down on each other a few times before the bastard chickened-out. Three weeks before the end of the school year, he sent in his letter of resignation and soon moved away to another state.

"Fucking pussy," she would often say to herself as she lay in her bed after school in the late afternoon, lazily playing with her burning cunt while she remembered back to those steamy days. She was never really sure whether she was talking about Mr. Busey's cowardice or her troublesome libido.

Anyway, she was in a jam. She was constantly on edge, her pussy on fire, relentlessly tormenting her, without any real release. She masturbated everyday, as soon as she came home from school, before she went to bed, and as soon as she woke up the next morning, sometimes stopping off in the restroom during the school day. She knew what she needed was a big, fat cock in her, but she couldn't just up and jump any guy in her school. Sure, absolutely anyone of them would have given their arms for a hot fuck-session with her, but at the same time, absolutely any of them would also spill the beans as soon as they spilled their cum inside of her. She had seen a few girls, girls she knew were nice and hadn't been the least bit cruel to anyone, who ended up being practically ostracized for simply giving a guy a hand job. Jocks (the fuckin' assholes) were notorious for spreading word about their latest conquests, causing the unfortunate and unwitting to be thrown into a living hell of snickers, jeers, and further rumors. One girl had even killed herself about two years ago after a horrifying ordeal with a pig from the basketball team, spreading rumors that she had let him fuck her after only the second date. Leslie had told herself long ago that she was never going to let herself get into that position.

But right now, on this particular day in the early spring of her senior year, her cunt was buzzing, torturing her in revenge for not allowing it the chance to get stuffed with cock-meat. She had a couple of toys (bought and stored discretely, of course) that used to help somewhat, but they just weren't helping anymore. She needed to feel the crushing weight of a man on top of her, his dick pouring hot cum inside her tight pussy. She wanted to feel a mouth on her pussy, chewing on her clit and drinking her sweet, pungent nectar. She was now 18 years old, and she had lost her virginity to a goddamn piece of plastic. She lay on her bed, her shirt wadded on the floor along with her panties, one hand delicately massaging her left breast through her bra, her skirt pulled up above her navel and her bare pussy being lightly and mindlessly manipulated by her other hand. She needed a plan. She needed to find a way to get herself fucked soon, without any of the nosy, cruel people at school finding out. As she occupied her mind with these thoughts, her hands worked unconsciously, bringing her closer to pleasure. Her brain soon started to fog over as the pleasures began to increase, and soon she was lost in her own caresses. She brought both hands to her chest, roughly kneading her tits, and soon was mauling them as she practically yanked them out of the cups of her lacey bra. Her exposed nipples were rock hard as she tweaked and pulled on them. The hotter she got, the harder she twisted the protruding nubs of flesh on her firm, young globes, pinching them so hard sometimes that she would literally yelp with pain, deliciously mixed with pleasure.

She was often very vocal when she masturbated, but it didn't matter. Her house was almost always empty at this time of day, and her room was a fair distance away from her parents and her younger sister's, so she would moan loudly each night at bedtime without fear of anyone poking their head in to investigate the noise. None the less, she was always very careful to remember to lock her door and put a pillow over her face when she was cumming. Her parents had always respected her privacy, and her little sister was too caught up in her own junior high school dramas to care about what went on in Leslie's room anyway.

A hand finally found itself at her boiling honey pot, and she was trembling with anticipation. She was so hot, and she could feel the juice coat her fingers as she stroked her inner lips. Her hips began to gyrate slowly, finding her rhythm as her fingers "licked" at her clit. Eventually, her rhythmic thrusting turned into frenzied bucking, and she jammed first one, then two fingers inside herself, churning and trying to ride as much pleasure out of her hands as she could. She ground the heel of her palm into her clit as her fingers worked in and out of her tight hole, making wet, "slucking" sounds. She loved how her pussy felt, soft and wet, the skin around her lips with only the finest covering of hair, not even hiding the pink flesh underneath. Her forehead shined with perspiration, as did her whole body as she began to tingle all over with electric pulses of sensation. Her whole body was one giant sex-organ, alive and writhing, getting jolts of pleasure as her sheets rubbed against her skin, or as droplets of sweat and pussy juice ran down her body. Her sheets were a damp mess now, but she had become used to this; normally she would have put down some towels on her bed, but as luck would have it, all of her towels were in the wash, as she was sure her sheets would be before the rest of the family came home.

"Oooh ssssshhhhhhiiiiiiittttt!!" she moaned. She winced as the orgasm rumbled through her body, and her shriek would have surely brought attention if there had been anyone in her house. This was her high. This was her drug. She lived for this sensation, that warm quake that came from her very core and radiated out to her fingers and toes. Panting and sweating, she was riding the last aftershocks of her climax, intent on milking one more orgasm from her pleasure-racked body (she thanked God for the ability to orgasm multiple times) when suddenly, she heard the doorbell ring.

"Goddamn it!" she said, out of character for her usual sweet persona. She hurried up and pulled her skirt down, pulled on a loose sweatshirt, and headed for the door (sans panties, but she hoped it wouldn't take too long).

"Who is it?" she called out as the new intruder rang the bell a second time. She knew damn well it wasn't her parents or Becky, her sister, unless they forgot their keys or something. She rushed through the hallway, tidying herself up as best she could, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and using her shirt-sleeve to wipe away any residual sweat on her flushed face. As she neared the front door, she noted the time on the clock, realizing it was still too early for her parents to be back from work and her sister to be back from dance class. Peering through the spy-hole in the door, she was met with an unexpected sight of an eyeball peering right back at her. She pulled back with a start, but then looked through the hole one more time. This time, she was even more surprised.

Samuel was a classmate of Leslie's, and a bit of an odd-ball in his school. He was a medium height, between 5'11" and 6', and the same age as she was. He had a slight paunch, but wasn't really overweight, and he dressed pretty slovenly, mostly loose T-shirts with some odd cartoon character or humorous saying on it, and even more loose-fitting jeans that looked like they would fall right of his ass. As it was still early spring, with a hint of winter's chill still in the air, he was wearing an old, beat-up green army jacket with a number of patches and buttons all over it, mostly with names of bands like Green Day and Metallica and KoRn on them. His hair was orange in color, which was odd only in that he was of Korean descent, so you could see the dark, jet-black roots underneath this dyed hair, which had grown to a rather shaggy length in the past few months. In fact, some of his friends used to say he looked alot like an Asian version of "Shaggy" from the Scooby Doo cartoons. He was a pretty quiet guy, who's expertise was art and English class, and he hung out with a lot of the less popular people: the geeks, the marching-band nerds, the goths, the freaks, the heavy-metal heads and hip-hop "gangsta-wannabes" alike. He was a very shy guy, but Leslie had talked to him a few times before, and he was a genuinely nice guy. His writings and artwork were always impressive, but as she was more or less a part of the "in" crowd, she didn't get a chance to socialize with him much at school. Which is why seeing him immediately prompted a "What the fuck?" response.

Leslie opened the door and immediately put on her innocent persona again, acting more pleasantly surprised than she had been before opening the door for this rather scruffy looking guy. She greeted him cheerfully.

"Sam Kim? What brings you here?" she chimed cordially, even though deep down she wanted him to just leave right away.

Samuel fidgeted nervously, stammering a bit before answering, "Uh, h-h-hi, Leslie... I, uh, I just wanted to, uh..."

"Why don't you step in?" Leslie interrupted out of polite habit, immediately wishing that she hadn't, cursing at herself in her mind. She now only hoped that he wouldn't accept. Oh please oh please, just go away...

"Uh, yeah! Er, thanks..." Sam said, getting a little more flustered.

He stood there. She stood there. He didn't move an inch.

"What the hell is his problem?" Leslie thought. Then she realized that she was standing in his way, and he was, for some reason, very nervous about approaching her. She knew he was a shy guy, and realized he was probably using all his courage just to ring her doorbell. With a kind smile, she stepped to the side, allowing the noticeably nervous young man entry with uncertain footsteps. She shut the door behind him and started toward the living room couch before realizing that he wasn't following. Looking back, she saw him looking around the inside of the house, with the look of a scared child in his eyes. She wanted to be annoyed with his hesitancy, but she just couldn't help smiling. She finally offered him a seat next to her on the couch, adding "It's okay, I won't bite," with a little smile and wink. Samuel's face turned red immediately, but he walked over and took a seat, almost a mile away from her on the other end of the couch.

After a brief, tense moment, Leslie decided to get the conversation started. "Um, so, Sam..."

"Samuel," he blurted out, surprising himself almost as much as he did her, before weakly adding, "...I, uh, prefer to be called Samuel."

"Okay then, 'Samuel,'" Leslie said with a soft giggle. She really did like him, even if he did disrupt her earlier activities. Besides, her dark, inner persona was relishing the power she was having over the poor guy. Again, her talent was working full tilt. "What brought you over here?" she said as she crossed her legs and leaned toward him, distributing her weight on one arm. The sinking of the sofa cushion seemed to draw Samuel closer still.

Samuel stammered a bit more, but was finally able to blurt out, "I, uh, just wanted to know if it's true that you don't have a date to the prom..."

Leslie was pretty surprised by this. She hadn't thought Samuel would have the guts enough to ask her out. It was a nice surprise indeed, even if she knew that, more than likely, she would have to turn him down.

"Samuel Kim, are you asking me out?" she replied with a broad, disarming smile that immediately shook him.

"Um, well, I know that we don't know each other too well, and have only talked to each other like a few times and all..."

"Oh Samuel, that's so sweet... but I don't know..."

"Don't bother," Samuel suddenly interrupted, the look of defeat already on his face. "I know you'd never go out with a, well, geek like me, but I just had to, you know, find out for myself, just once. Jeezus, what was I thinking?" he said, seemingly more to himself than to her.

Leslie was really impressed and at the same time disappointed by his sudden change in attitude. She felt really sorry for hurting him like that, but she knew damn well what would happen if she decided to date him. As much as she didn't want to care so much about what other people thought about her, it was because of her dark secret that she became so sensitive to others' opinions. "No, don't be like that. I didn't mean to say it like that." she apologized.

"Look, just... just don't, okay?" Samuel said, getting up. "This was a stupid idea anyway"

"C'mon, Samuel. I didn't..."

"I was just, I dunno, hoping that..."

"Samuel," Leslie finally interrupted, getting Sam's full attention. "What I was going to say was I didn't say 'no' just yet. But I also haven't made up my mind about the prom just yet either." She was starting to get a little testy, and even though her heart went out to him, she was getting tired of his pessimism and self-defeatist attitude.

Sam was obviously shocked by this. He didn't know what to say, except for a weak, "I'm sorry..."

"It's okay, Samuel. But, please... why ask me? I mean, I'm sure you've got a few other girls in mind to ask, right?"

"No..."Samuel muttered, "I'm not really good with... girls. I've never really had too much luck in that department." Leslie was surprised by this, because, for all intensive purposes, Samuel was an attractive guy.

"Besides," he added, "I just felt something in you that, I dunno, sort of intrigued me, I guess."

"I intrigue you?" Leslie thought out-loud, not really sure how to respond. If anything, it was turning out to be the other way around now.

"I've read some of your poetry from English Lit, and I've seen the way you act when you don't think anyone's looking," Samuel started. "I think you've been trying to hide something from everyone, and that just got my curiosity."

Leslie was shocked. She knew Samuel was an intuitive person, but how the hell did he figure her out like this? It was Leslie's turn to get flustered. "W-what makes you think I've got something to hide?"

"Your writing. It has a passion to it. Your writing shows hidden desires. That and I've seen your face get red sometimes in class, often while you're looking at some other guy or something, and how by the end of the day, you look as though you're ready to explode and reveal your secrets to the world. You're always smiling, but I can see that you're not happy. I can see that in your eyes, and in your face when you don't think anyone's paying attention."

Leslie started to feel the warmth slip away from her body. She had never felt so afraid before. Her secret, her dreaded, damn secret was out, and there was nothing she could do about it. Again, her mind was thinking, "How the hell does he know this?" as she became paralyzed on the spot, her mouth trying to squeak out something, but no words or sounds coming out of it at all. She was absolutely dumbfounded.

Samuel continued, "I saw all of these qualities in you, and I was intrigued by it. I thought I saw someone I could relate to, because sometimes I feel the same way. Sometimes I just want to show the world who I really am, and feel free from the glares of the snooty popular kids. I saw something that I hoped we shared in common, and I needed to find out for sure. I've never been so entirely aroused by curiosity for anyone like this before, and that's exactly what attracted me to you. That and the fact that you're so fucking hot..." Immediately, Sam slapped his hand over his mouth realizing that he had said that last part out loud.

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