tagErotic CouplingsChristian College Sex Comedy Ch. 01

Christian College Sex Comedy Ch. 01

byFinalStand©

*Every old trick was invented by someone once upon a time*

(Thanks to frontma for her wonderful job at editing. If it is messed up it is my fault. Also, this is a slow intro chapter, but is part of a twenty (+) chapter piece I've been working on for some time.)

(Yes, this tale is supposed to be somewhat humorous and outrageous too. While not always comedic I'd like to think it is mostly a good-natured romp.)


*

A Little Background ...

Hi. My name is Glenn Zane Braxton but everyone calls me Zane. I'm a good-looking (or so I'm told) athletic kid just over six feet tall and just under two hundred pounds. I get my Nordic looks from my Mom who hails from Norway. I apparently get my optimistic attitude and loose moral structure from my Dad, though I was to learn that Mom was a bit freaky too.

My parents were killed in a rock climbing accident when I was fifteen so I was sent to live with my Uncle Tim (Dad's younger brother) and Aunt Jill. Unfortunately for me, while my parents had been rich hedonists, Tim and Jill were fundamentalist Christians doing missionary work in northern Thailand. I spent the next two-and-a-half years in a place where a paved road was a luxury.

I have nothing against Christianity; I consider myself a decent Christian but I believe my faith stops at the next person's 'I'm not interested'. My aunt and uncle were a very different breed. They believed that it was every Christian's duty to convert our little brown brothers and sisters (no shit, this is what Tim told me) whether they wanted it or not.

Needless to say, I witnessed them busting their self-righteous heads against the faith and traditions of these ancient people they'd come to 'help enlighten,' while I learned all about Thai culture, cuisine, and kick-boxing. I learned that spending time with Thai women was a hell of a way to get another kind of education too. On the down side, Tim beat me whenever he found out about the women. To get back at him, I spent time with Buddhist monks - score one for the Zen!

Three months ago there was an incredibly brutal monsoon and something possessed Tim to go down to the river to save people. Since every sane individual was running away from the river, I pleaded that we go with the people that actually knew what was going on. Instead, I ended up with my Aunt and Uncle hip deep in the muddy water when an uprooted tree hit Tim and Jill.

Like a fool I jumped into the flood waters after them. I got to Jill - Tim was a goner. Afterwards, when I realized that no Tim meant a return to the States, I was not crying tears of joy - that would have been cruel.

After they gave up the search for Tim, Jill and I returned to Western Civilization. Jill surprised me by actually having a college degree that was useful and she got a job in Virginia working as an insurance adjuster for a nice sized company. I had completed my high school credits online back in Thailand and passed my college entrance exam so I was looking forward to partying it up somewhere far away from Jill.

Fate has a funny way of laughing at me, though. For some byzantine reason, Dad set up my trust fund so that I would get a fraction of my inheritance when I turned eighteen...as long as I was in an institution of higher learning approved of by Tim and Jill - now just Jill. Otherwise, I had to wait until I was twenty-one. I wanted to go to the University of Hawaii Jill found a nice little place close to what she called home -- real close.

Speaking of home; our living arrangements were courtesy of Tim's generous insurance policy and his own little share of Dad's family's money. She bought us an expansive two-story spread with nice large yards, front and back, right where the countryside hits the suburbs. I wished we had a pool and even offered to dip into my own funds to have one put in but since pools were 'cesspits of depravity' Jill nixed the notion.

Getting a car was also an interesting discussion. Jill said 'no way' and wouldn't budge until we noticed that our neighbors were two nice looking ladies in their twenties (I guessed). On the day we moved in I went over to talk (I'm drawn to women like a comet to the Sun) and spent over an hour getting to know them. There were two big pluses about their place; one was the large pool in back, which the girls (there turned out to be more than two) promised I could use whenever I wanted -- real nice of them. The other one was...

When I got home I told Jill not to worry about the car; the cute lesbian couple offered to pick me up from school whenever I needed a ride. "Are they atheists?" Jill gasped. Apparently them being homosexuals wasn't enough? "Nah, they are Wiccans," I lied again with a smile. We went car shopping the next day. I figured I would tell Jill we lived next to a sorority house (to the other university in town) at some later date.

What Not to Wear

Moving in turned out to be half the battle for my life at the new house. Next came the clothing war. Personally, I think I look great naked and do wonderful with people of the female persuasion but in Virginia they arrest you for this. Since I only have a twenty percent chance of being taken in by a female police officer (or the five percent of the male officers who are out and-out homosexuals), I'm going to go to jail if I go around nude.

My solution was to look around the local teenage hangouts, websites, and social networks to get me a style that would be both individualistic yet fit in. Aunt Jill was of the opinion that my school uniform (see below) would be my normal look. When I told her I'd use my own money to get what I wanted she threatened to throw them out because I was still living under her roof.

I got pissed off and since my outlet options were pretty limited, I stupidly went to my room and did what every teenage boy should never do when their female guardian is at home - maybe I have malaria and the fever was clouding my thought processes. In Thailand I would simply go out into the jungle Jill never went out into the wilderness if she could help it.

There was no jungle and Jill knew right where my room was, and since it was her house, she barged right in. Half way through giving me a piece of her mind Jill noticed me, the Vaseline, the box of Kleenex, and what my hand was pumping. I yanked the comforter on my bed, trying to cover myself, which resulted in my flipping off the bed (I was sitting on the comforter) and rolling to Jill's feet.

Jill stood there with her mouth wide open, eyes glued to my penis. I stopped pumping but my rod wouldn't go down despite my shame -- not of my erection but because I didn't like sexually taunting a recent widow. "That's...that's disgusting," she gasped while still fixated on my erection.

I wiggled around so that I could pull up my underwear and slacks. Once my cock was under cover Jill started harping on me. "You vile pervert," she seethed. "What is the meaning of you showing your...thing to me? You are filthy. Wash your sheets then wash your hands then never do this again."

"Um, Jill...Aunt Jill, I'm an eighteen-year-old male. I need to masturbate," I informed her. "Not in this house," she said shrilly. I grabbed the tissues and Vaseline, then headed for the door. "Where are you going?" she worried. "Into the woods out back," I answered as I tried to move past her. "I kind of need to finish this."

"You will do no such thing," Jill gasped as she grabbed my arm, "you might be seen...and it's wrong." First priority for Jill was social appearances while my spiritual well-being was somewhat less important at that moment. "Jill," I cautioned her, "I really need to knock one out. I'm stressed."

Jill grabbed the Vaseline and tissues from my hands, not because she was stronger but because in my own twisted way, I still acknowledged Jill as my authority figure; not much of one, but one nonetheless. Ripping them away from her wasn't an option so, "Jill, you are my only parent now. I need to come to you about...things sexual," I suggested.

"No," Jill responded with some shock. "There will be no sex in this house. You will have sex when you are married and not before -- ever. Even then, sex is only for procreation." "Jill, I'm not a virgin," I informed her. Her jaw dropped but I'm not sure if it was shock, horror, or something else.

"You've had sex with a girl?" she whispered. "Aunt Jill, I had twenty girlfriends back at the mission," I related. "Did...Did Tim know? How did it happen? When did you do it?" she stammered. "Tim knew; that is why he kept beating my ass."It happened simply enough; we would be bathing down at the river and if we liked what we'd seen and if things clicked, we'd go fool around. Sometimes we'd kiss and touch and sometimes we'd have sex-- you know, blowjobs, cunnilingus, vaginal and anal sex," I continued. "Gack...ah...oh, God preserve me," Jill sputtered. "As for when, the best time was right after Bible study when you and Tim were preoccupied with the parents and us kids could sneak off to a house and fool around in the common room, and then couples would pair up and have sex in the bedrooms," I finished. "Oh, poor Tim," Jill moaned as she slumped against the door sill. "Can I have my stuff and go now?" I asked softly. "No," she snapped. We kind of stood there for a minute before she asked, "Were you sneaking peeks of me at the river?" "Ummm..." I half turned away, "yeah, I did." Jill looked offended.

"You are very sexy, Jill," I attempted to mollify her. It didn't work. "You pervert, you freak...that's incest. It is against God's Laws!" she screamed at me. "Jill, we are not blood related, and I never said I actually wanted to sleep with you, only that you have a very nice body," I countered calmly.

"Shut up! Stop talking," she shouted, before storming off, leaving me even more frustrated. An hour later Jill sent me out to get some pizza but when I got back she wasn't in the house, though her car was still in the garage. I smelled smoke and followed the scent out into the backyard. I saw what Jill was doing; she didn't need to tell me what she was up to but she did it anyway.

"I think we need to put your misspent time in Thailand behind you," she announced, "so I've decided it is best to get rid of all the clothes, books, and statues you brought back." "You should have asked me," I stated. Of course, this meant War. "You are awash in sin, Zane," she answered in this twisted, loving tone. I turned and went in the house.

What had that monk said to me when I'd discussed my relationship with Tim and Jill? One does not build a house of stone out of grass Which he suggested meant petty payback satisfies little and is soon gone, but real revenge comes from working permanent change on your opponent. Over the next four days I ordered a secure chest online, withdrew my bank limit each day, and started taking a pitcher of grape juice to my room at bedtime (it will make sense in a moment). I decided to start my plan Sunday night.

Stage One: after Jill has gone to bed, fill her car up with gas and report all her credit cards and bank card stolen. We have plenty of food in the kitchen and Jill takes her lunch to work so with the car full of gas she won't immediately notice her cards are useless tomorrow. Also withdraw yet another five hundred dollars with my bank card, which is the daily limit.

Stage Two: Once Jill has gone to work, I put three of her Sunday's Best into the steel chest, to which I have the only combination. Burn every piece of ultra-conservative matronly-wear, from underwear to bathrobes to jackets. Now that mid-morning has come, I head over to the Sorority House and enlist the aid of my two new friends, Leigh and Corrie. We go clothes shopping with the money I've saved up.

Each 'sister' gets one thing (for services rendered) and the rest of the money we dump on getting Jill everything a sexually confident and active twenty-something would wear (Jill's only thirty) as well as getting me some normal clothes. I'm not going to attempt to make Jill dress like a hooker; that would never work. Jill's been warped by her narrow-minded environment for all of her three decades so making her more tolerant is going to take time.

Stage Three: As we are heading to the bedrooms that evening I 'accidently' bump into Jill and soak her with a pitcher of grape juice she now knows I'm taking to my room on a regular basis. Grape juice doesn't come out and a pitcher will soak her down to her underwear and bra. "Sorry, Aunt Jill," I blathered.

"Oh, Zane, this dress is totally ruined. I should make you pay to replace it," she sounded cross. "Consider it done," I offered. Technically, I'd already bought her a new one. Jill went into the bathroom muttering Leviticus before tossing me a roll of paper towels to clean up the spilled juice. "Zane?" Jill called from the bathroom with a hint of concern.

"Yes?" I responded from the hallway. "Where is my bathrobe?" she inquired. "In the laundry," I lied. I hear her putter around for a few seconds, then, "Go to your room and shut the door," she ordered me. I got up and made a point of noisily shutting my door. Half a minute later the bathroom door squeaked open and I heard Jill pad quietly to her room and shut the door. I opened my door and sprinted to the bathroom. I retrieved her clothes from the hamper and tossed them in the sink, got the carefully secreted lighter fluid from underneath, doused them, and tossed in a lit match.

At the same time as I'm doing this, I heard Jill slamming dresser drawers open and shut. "ZANE!" Boy, what have you done?" Jill shouted from her room. I raced out of the bathroom (on purpose) at the same time Jill burst out of her room so we were basically five feet apart when Jill remembered that she was naked; I was barefoot in pajama bottoms.

Jill's look was priceless as she realized that the number of men who'd seen her totally naked since she hit puberty had just doubled. She spun around and bolted into her room, door slamming shut once more. It took her a few moments to form a plan. "Zane, go to your room and shut the door," she growled with a tad more control.

"Sure thing." I grinned as I walked to my room, shut the door, and leaned against it waiting for what I knew would unfold next. Sure enough, Jill raced to the bathroom. "Zane, where is my dress?" "In the sink," I told her. Three -- two -- one. "ZANE! What have you done!" she screamed once more. "My bra, my underwear, my hose..." she sobbed. "Jane, you have a robe in your closet. If you want, put it on and come to my room so we can talk this over," I suggested.

I didn't hear anything for fifteen minutes as I waited on my bed. Finally, the door swung open slowly and Jill took a halfstep into my room. Her eyes were downcast in shame but her voice was full of hurt and anger. In her mind there was no possible reason for me to have done this. She was pulling off the Hurt Little Girl bit really well with her mid-thigh crimson satin robe and her wavy, deep-red hair flowing loosely over her shoulders and down her back.

"I can't believe you picked this out for me to wear, Zane. Now where are my clothes?" she ground out. "Jill, you look good in that -- really good -- but I didn't pick it out for you. I had our next-door neighbors do that because you are all beautiful young women," I explained. "If you tell me what color you are wearing, I'll tell you where your clothes are." Jill stood stock still as she worked out that I was talking about her panties. "Blue...the deep blue ones...with the black...lace," she whispered.

"Not the white?" I had to ask since I would have guessed this was the first pair of non-white panties she'd ever worn. Her constricted mind had expanded a tiny bit. "The white ones were nearly see-through," she answered after a second. I had to agree with that. "I put your clothes exactly where you put all the stuff I brought back from Thailand," I answered. It took a moment for that to sink in. Her burning green eyes popped up in shock. "What am I going to wear to work tomorrow?" she wailed.

"I'll tell you if you agree to one request I have for you," I replied with compassion. "Fine," she hiccupped. She was so body conscious that she wasn't really thinking about the implications of what she was saying but I believed she would still honor her word. "I want you to wear your hair down all day tomorrow...or in a ponytail, but that's it," I ordered. Jill looked at me truly confused; she always wore it in a bun.

"But why?" she questioned. "I don't understand." "Your hair is beautiful when it is down, Aunt Jill. I figure it wouldn't kill you to try a new look," I answered. Again, she didn't understand but I was okay with that, and getting her clothes out of the closet was part of the deal. I pulled out bag after bag and set them on the bed.

Jill stepped up during the process and pulled various articles of clothing out, utterly flummoxed with what she was discovering. This wasn't slut-wear but it would definitely show more of her curves and skin than she would have ever normally considered. When I finished bringing bags out she looked past me, expecting more. "I can't wear any of this," she declared. "Please tell me you didn't really destroy my clothes." "Jill, I did burn up most of your clothes and you can wear what I bought you. You are thirty, not sixty-five. When I jumped into that river, God decided that I rescued you and not Tim, and I can't believe I saved you so you could go right back to the same life you had before," I interpreted what might have been true...God doesn't talk to me. "What did I do to deserve this, Zane?" she pleaded. "You burned up all my stuff from Thailand, Jill. And while you might think of this as revenge, it's not. You may not see it this way now but one day, I hope you will understand that I love you," I told her. "Zane, I don't understand. What you did was evil, despicable, and wicked and I won't tolerate it. We should pray to God, me for guidance and you for forgiveness," she pouted. She made to kneel down at my bedside so I followed out of long practice. We clasped our hands in prayer and while Jill closed her eyes, mine remained open.

Now, my bed is not even at knee level so when Jill knelt down to pray, leaning forward until her elbows were on the mattress, she inadvertently thrust her ass backwards -- yes, Jill was doggy style on my bed. I had abstractly known Jill was attractive but the thought of having sex with her had never come up.

What was now 'coming up' was suddenly a problem, as were my attempts to keep up with exactly what Jill was asking God for, but the gist of it seemed to involve the Almighty taking steel wool to my corrupt soul, the harder and more painful the scrubbing, the better. "Amen," we said in unison as the thirty-seven minute ordeal came to an end and Jill stood up.

"Jesus has told me that I only have to put up with your dementia until morning. I'd rather get new clothes instead of showing up to work...as some strumpet," she proclaimed. "Um...where did you come up with the word 'strumpet' and who ever said it was a sin to be good looking?" I asked. "Nothing I got for you suggests sexuality, no push-up bras, crop tops, or slit skirts. They're clothes, nothing more."

"It doesn't matter what you think," Jill countered. "Whatever madness you thought you were accomplishing won't work. I really should call the pastor." "And tell him what, that I burned your clothes and bought you...normal clothes? Why don't we call everyone on the church roster?" I warned her. Jill balked at the prospect of having our family feud exposed.

Jill sniffed, spun, and started to leave the room when she recalled the clothes I'd bought for her. She huffed and came back for them, looking at me very indignantly. When I went to help, she warned me off with a hateful glare. An hour later, as I began to despair over my actions, I heard Jill's bedroom door open and a crinkly crunch in the hall. Upon examination, I found one of the bags I'd purchased clothes in outside her door. Inside, folded up, were the other bags. Jill had put my clothes away in her drawers and closet. I counted that to be a small victory.

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