Abigail's Awakening Pt. 08

Abigail had two full days of blissful non-event. Her dad still seemed strange to her, but she brushed it off with the hope that it would get better with time.

On Friday morning, Jack finally came back to the shoppe. "I have something for you," he said.

"I don't want it."

"You haven't even seen it yet."

"Fine, show me."

Jack held out a half-dollar-sized rose quartz heart, polished to a shine. The soft pink of the stone looked pretty to Abigail. She took it from him and turned it over on her hands. "Thank you," she said.

"Thanks for accepting it."

"You probably sacrificed a goat and washed this thing in its blood, right?"

"Wrong kind of Witch."

"So what kind of things does your kind of witch do, then?"

"Magic is freedom. I try to do no harm, and otherwise do as I will."

"Interesting, so it really doesn't mean anything at all. You might as well just be a Christian."

"But I am a Christian too, remember. I shouldn't advertise, but I'll have you know, I pray the Lord's Prayer every day."

Abigail liked that, encouraged him to keep that up, and actually felt this boy's wrong-headedness might be capable of remedy.

"We've got to go back to the park. I didn't get to show you my favorite spot last time."

She tried to say no, but instead she said nothing at all.

When it came time to take a break, she followed him to his car. He was happy and talkative all the way to the park, his cheery disposition so at odds with his gloomy way of dressing. At the park she followed him down a narrow wooded trail then off the trail into a circular stand of maple trees, where they were hidden from all view.

"This is where I come when I need to masturbate in nature."

"That's sick. You've got a sick mind."

"What's the matter, Abby? Everybody masturbates."

"I don't."

"You don't anymore," he corrected.

"I never have."

In that instance, he took her hand in his and guided it down to her pants, slid her hand down into her panties and underneath to where she was quivering.

"Please don't," she said, but didn't move at all to pull her hand away.

He pressed her index fingertip against her clitoris, swirled it around. She buckled with pleasure, wet herself in a way she had never felt before.

He kept showing her new things with her own hand. She couldn't believe what was happening, was powerless to stop it. The whole hour went by, and in the end, she didn't want to leave, but he turned up the responsibility and brought her glowing back to work.

He kissed her goodbye outside the shoppe, but she didn't look back as she rushed up to open the storefront.

The rest of the day passed in fantasy-land. She wanted to explore the territory of her pleasure more and more fully. She daydreamed about masturbation, telling herself she was going to do it every day now, morning and night. She was going to live in that state of bliss.

The hours past slowly and charged, but suddenly a wave of guilt and shame kicked in as she clocked out.

She went home and by the time she got there, she had resolved to never masturbate again. It was a one time thing, hopefully God would see that and understand, and of course she would confess her sin, come Saturday.

Her whole body buzzed with feeling, both uncomfortable and alive, that whole evening. Her mind circled the image of her sinful behavior like a vulture circling the dead. She swam, but being in the water didn't make her feel clean. Abigail wondered if she'd ever feel clean again?

She became extra talkative at dinner time, saying all kinds of nothing but just enjoying the distraction of her own voice. Dad asked questions and elaboration, giving her a bouncing board for her energy.

"You sure seem to have recovered from whatever happened between you and Tim," her mom said, hoping that her lips were loose enough, she might divulge some detail of what had happened.

"I'm not worried about it. I'm better off without that chump. He has problems."

"We all have problems, darling," her mom said. "What kind of problems is what really counts. He doesn't do drugs, does he?"

Abigail lowered her voice to a whisper. "He masturbates."

"I see. It's not unheard of for men your age to play with themselves from time to time, as the need arises. Then again it's not a good thing for a Christian to do. We aren't to waste our seed."

Abigail kept up the rapt, theatrical whisper: "He likes it."

"That's not good," her dad said. "Maybe it is for the best you avoid this man. I'm sure he's a good guy in his own way, but my little Abigail deserves only the very best. In the meantime, you're welcome to live at home with us for as long as you need before you get married."

"What if I decide to never get married?"

"You would become a nun?" her mom asked.

"No, what if I just stayed single and lived my life the way I want to, how I will, so to speak."

"Jeremy," her mom said, voicing her husband's name to cue that this was his to field.

"Sweetheart," her dad started, "we've already gone over the importance of the sacrament of marriage. It's essential to the spiritual health and well-being of any young woman. Unless you were to join an Order, that is."

"I'll never be a nun. But my experience tells me a good man might be impossible to find."

"Hard, but not impossible."

"God brings things into your life when you're ready for them, people too," her mom continued for dad.

"I know. I know. Sometimes I feel at such peace with who I am right where I am now; other times, it's just so hard to wait!"

Abigail woke up suddenly a half-hour after she had dozed off the first time. In the obscurity of her half-sleep she found the audacity to reach under her underwear, rather clumsily, and rub on her vulva and clit-tip. She awakened more fully to her senses of forbidden pleasure, then just as suddenly stopped. She feel back asleep, with her body numb and wanting, not even halfway to the abandoned O.

That night, she didn't dream at all.

TO BE CONTINUED