tagGroup SexChristian College Sex Comedy Ch. 27

Christian College Sex Comedy Ch. 27


*Doing the correct thing is good; doing right and confounding your enemies at the same time is golden*

(Thank you Frontma for coming through again)

(This one picks up soon after the previous chapter ends)

(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.)


"You are getting better, Zane," Molly Travers told me after my rotation to the shooting line.

"If you say so," I shrugged. "I've yet to hit the rings twice in a row."

"But you are hitting the target every time," she pointed out.

"Great," I chuckled, "if I ever get attacked by a rhino or a barn door, I'll do fine."

"If it is a big barn door...a really big barn door," she snickered in sympathy. "So...uhmm...what do you think your chances against Hope are?"

"Huh," I looked to her, "are you betting on me and Hope's sparring match?"

"It's not really a bet...more like a wager," Molly grinned.

"Betting and wagering is the same thing, Molly," I pointed out.

"Okay, fine, we are betting on the outcome," Molly admitted. "So what do you think the odds of you winning are?"

"Barring the intervention of large fighting robots, I'd bet on the cute Asian chick to win," I joked.

"Arrows," Chastity called out. It was my job to retrieve all the expended arrows from the field, being the junior member of the team. After that we did one more round, then we cleaned up and made our way to either study period or our next club. Chastity held me back so that we could go to Karate class together.

"Don't be too hard on Hope," Chastity abruptly told me.

"I'm not all that sure I can beat her, Chastity," I confided.

"Oh, there is no chance of that," Chastity assured me. "She's going to destroy you. I only want to make sure you are a good sport about it because she really likes you and she's worried you might take this beating the wrong way."

I stopped and stared at her somewhat incredulously.

"Oh, come on," I grumbled. "I have some sort of chance. She's not that good."

"If thinking that makes you feel better," she patted me on the back.

"Well, if you believe I can't win, you will be willing to make a wager on the outcome then," I challenged Chastity.

"What would it be?" Chastity mused.

"You in a little, itty-bitty French Maid's outfit for twelve hours of my choosing," I said.

"What do I get if Hope wins?" Chastity countered.

"What would you want?" I grinned.

"Any one favor to be decided on later," was what she came back with.

"Oh, please, my favor is relatively precise while you want the world," I pointed out.

"Okay, I want one 'forgiveness' in advance," Chastity offered. I groaned.

"You just have to keep busting my chops, don't you?" I sighed. "Fine, I'll make the bet."

For a private sparring match, Hope and I drew a great deal of attention. Christina, Heaven, Chastity, and Faith were expected, as was Coach Gorman. I had kind of hoped Cappadocia would hang around so we could hook up when the fight was over. Everyone else was rather distracting.

Both Hope and I went shirtless – me bare-chested and she with a black sports bra – as well as barefoot. We set up four meters apart with Hope doing something that mimicked warm-up exercises. It took a second of eye contact for the fight to begin. I kicked out viciously; she collapsed beneath the blow and swept my legs.

My back slapped the mats and before I could move or mount much of a defense, Hope was all over me. It was arm bar and she had my head in a scissor lock and that was that. I tapped out before she could render me unconscious. No one said anything as I regained my feet. I was careful not to make eye contact until I'd backed up a bit.

I had no clue to what kind of Monkey Kung-fu she had just worked on me but I knew that what little Thai Kickboxing I had wasn't cutting it, but I knew even less Karate and even less of what Gorman and Black had shown me. It boiled down to making use of what I did know to the best effect.

This time I danced to the left using a little trick Gabrielle Black had taught me (with some pain added). At first Hope mirrored my movements so when I lashed out with my first kick it caught her off-guard since I'd also been slowly closing the distance between us. She tried to snake within my reach but I kept shifting and kicking to hold her at bay.

When she finally did get inside, I hit her with every fist/arm/elbow strike I knew. I knocked her back, pursued her, and for a moment it looked like I had a chance. Hope kept maneuvering with the grace of a gymnast so I couldn't pin her to the mat. Once she got to her feet I sensed I was rapidly running out of options.

I certainly didn't expect a chop to my temple and that was pretty much all she wrote. She jumped up, put her knee into my diaphragm and rode me to the ground. I managed to block twice against her strikes as she straddled my stomach. I almost knocked her aside, we wrestled, and that was the totally wrong thing to do. I knew crap about wrestling.

My tapping out was a foregone conclusion once she got me on my stomach. For a second I lay there marveling how quickly I'd gone down – twice. I noticed that Hope was still standing astride my body so I rolled over in place and looked up. For a second she had this look that reminded me of staring into the pitiless depths of the ocean.

"My head hurts," I emphasized with a deep breath. That set off a flash of light in her eyes.

"The important one or the one on top of your neck?" she smiled from above. Hope crossed her arms and helped me stand. "Are we okay?" she suddenly seemed worried.

"Oh, hell, no," I gasped. "I've got to learn me some of those moves. You were freaking awesome." That outburst gained me a snort of amusement on her part.

"I am not a master so I would have to consult my master before taking on a student," Hope informed me.

"Your Father?" I was curious.

"No; my Father had to get permission to teach my sisters and me. My Master is back in Korea," she answered.

Hope and I parted ways and various friends now felt free to join the party.

"Damn, Bro, she kicked your ass. I'm ashamed to call you family," Rio mocked me.

"Rio, now you know how he feels about you every day," Valarie shot back.

"I think he did pretty good, all things considered," Coach Dana Gorman stated. "I don't believe Zane's ever fought against a 'soft' or passive style."

"Fifteen or twenty more years and I would have had her," I chuckled. "You are right, Coach; I've never seen her precise style. I've tried some of the exercises monks use but those were primitive compared to what Hope showed me today. Now I think I'm going to take a shower."

"Everyone will clear out now," Coach ordered as I made my way to the showers.


"Honestly, Zane," Sahara lectured me deliciously, "did you have to flush my phone down the toilet?"

"Technically, I only dropped it in," I corrected. "I didn't hit the handle. Besides, you know your husband would only annoy us with his incessant phone calls."

"I still feel a little guilty," Sahara sighed.

"He knew when I would be over and where we would be going if he wasn't going to be kind enough to be there," I pointed out. "The only reason to call you would be to ruin the moment he could have pre-empted by showing a little consideration for your feelings."

"That is not fair," Sahara countered. "My husband is a community leader with many responsibilities."

"So would you be if people would wake up and see you as I do," I answered.

"Zane, I don't want any misconceptions about me," Sahara stared at me intently. "I am loyal to my marital vows."

"I don't doubt that for a second," I agreed. "Betrayal leaves its own scars and I don't see any on you." Sahara didn't immediately react to that, instead taking a long sip of her tea.

"Certainly you have heard the rumors by now?" she said softly.

"Yes, and I believe them," I responded gravely. I let that hang there for thirty seconds. "Aliens did land in Roswell, New Mexico in 1947, and they interred the bodies at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base before finally moving them to Area 51."

Sahara didn't know what to make of that for a second but slowly began to smirk.

"What? Was there another rumor that I should be giving a damn about?" I concluded.

"Some people compromise for the easy way out, some people remain mostly steadfast and take the hard road, but you are the only man I know who gladly skips through a minefield because even the hard road is too much of a compromise for you," she commented.

"I can only be me," I replied. "I couldn't be you; I doubt the clothes would fit."

"Oh...you are such a strange individual," she tilted her head. Before she could explain our food arrived and she felt it prudent to wait until there were fewer prying ears. "Do you think it is appropriate for me to...ask about Ms. Vickers?"

"No," I responded patiently. "If you ever feel like it is your business, she's in church every Sunday and she's nice, if a bit nervous considering the current circumstances."

"It is only that I hear things about you when my husband talks to other people and...much of it doesn't make sense," she added. "For instance, I believe I'm the only one who sees it but I'm sure you are having an affair with Rochelle Wellington."

"I'm neither confirming nor denying anything but how does that make you feel?" I countered.

"Infidelity is a crime," she answered after a few seconds, "but Mayor Wellington is a horrible, horrible man." And this was coming from the woman married to that bastard – Pastor Bill. "I confess that I find the whole thing very amusing, to the point where I pray to Christ for forgiveness virtually every night. That includes using me as a distraction for Kendra's nosey little self."

"That was not my intent if that's any consolation," I sighed. "I simply thought we had a lot in common."

"Such as?" she smiled.

"Well, before we moved here, we had no idea where Lancaster, Virginia was," I started.

"We both know that waving a Bible around doesn't make someone holy; a custom may be fine for you but it isn't for everyone and we know what it is to be judged by people who have never gotten to know us," I completed. "I also wanted you to know that I know about Bill and we are not alone."

"Know? What do 'we' know?" she asked confidently enough.

"We know why he let them think you were the one who was unfaithful," I clarified somewhat. Sahara stared at me, her face torn by a plethora of warring emotions; loyalty, anger over being betrayed, and relief that she didn't bear this terrible burden alone anymore were all there.

"Men handle such things differently than women," Sahara told me in a distant voice. "My father wanted boys."

"I imagine your Father-in-Law wishes he had raised his boy to be a man too," I joked. "That's unfair," I corrected myself. "I have nothing against men of a different persuasion. It is bastards I have a problem with."

"Please, Zane, he is still my husband," Sahara admonished me.

"Well, he had better start treating you better or I may re-familiarize him with Deuteronomy 23:1 (ty-jw)," I responded. "Your loyalty to him should be met with respect. That is the deal we make when we get married."

"What makes you think you know so much about marriage?" Sahara inquired after a bite, some savory chewing and a gulp.

"I'm smarter than I look. Okay, that's not too difficult, but I'm usually smarter than people give me credit for."

"Smart things like inviting Ms. Kennan to services yesterday?" she taunted me.

"I actually didn't invite her but don't tell anyone; I revel in people's opinion that I'm irreverent," I grinned. Sahara tried and failed to fight down her own smile in response. "I've actually invited Belle – Ms. Kennan – to live with me and Jill as well as giving her a job."

"I...I don't know what to make of that," Sahara worried. "She's very pretty, I imagine."

"Sahara, you need to become a better judge of people," I said. "I wouldn't trust Belle with my car keys or my favorite cuff links, but I'd trust her with Jill's life or my own."

"Sometimes it helps to remember we are still listening to the words of a poor carpenter's son who suffered through exile," I pointed out, "who wouldn't do what the authorities told him to do, died because he was betrayed by a close friend, and went to the grave abandoned by all those who said they understood him; not most people's first choice for founder of the world's largest religion."

"When you put it that way, it sounds depressing," Sahara agreed. "It also sounds exactly as it played out. It often does not occur to most believers that the flame of Christianity almost fluttered out before it ever really came to life." She looked for me to say something but all I did was grin. A few seconds later I saw that flicker of understanding come alive in her eyes.

"Here you are, the star of multiple on-line sexual misadventures, sitting with the preacher's disreputable wife in the most romantic restaurant in town and we are discussing morality and religion," she chuckled. "No one will believe us despite this being the truth. I find your perverse and bizarre sense of humor very enchanting, Zane."

"The important thing is that you are having a good time, Sahara," I explained. She laughed out loud, drawing attention to our little candlelit alcove of the eatery. I doubted she cared and I certainly didn't. We finished our meal, I paid, and we headed straight back to her place. The game was, we left zero time for any possible hanky-panky to take place.

We wanted the people who were going to accuse us of impropriety to make real asses of themselves when we revealed our timeline established by my filling up of gas right before picking her up, our valet ticket at the restaurant, and finally, our credit card receipt for the restaurant itself. I had outlined my plan to Sahara and she heartily approved. Unlike the time her husband had screwed her over, she could fight this scandal.

I pulled into the Penny's driveway and I rushed around to get her door for her (thank you, Heaven, for that bit of etiquette). We walked through the front door only to see Pastor Bill a few steps away from the door.

"Where have you been?" he growled. Sahara dutifully lowered her head.

"We were at Zetas," I stated calmly, "right where I told you we would be." Bill ground his teeth and glared at Sahara.

"What have you been doing?" he snapped.

"Nothing," I now grinned. "I accidentally left the lube and the box of condoms on your kitchen counter." Pastor Bill was rendered speechless.

"I was the one who dropped her phone into the toilet; don't blame Sahara," I told him. "Sahara, this was fun. I don't often get to have an adult conversation about the basis of Christianity. I do appreciate your insights. I gotta go now. You two have a good evening and I guess I'll see you on Wednesday night, Sahara. Bill, I'll see you on Sunday."

"I doubt you will be seeing my wife again," Bill finally ground out.

"Sahara, please give me and your husband a moment alone?" I asked her.

"Of course, Zane, and thank you again for an intellectually stimulating night," was her own way at rebelling. I could tell ol' Bill didn't appreciate her pleasant tone to me one bit. When she had moved out of sight I leaned into my so-called religious leader.

"Bill," I whispered to him, "between you, me and God, if something happens to Sahara, I'm giving you one year and a day, then they'll never find your body. You know the kind of low-lifes I hang out with. I'm not bluffing. The only other injustice will be that you won't suffer nearly enough. Am I absolutely fucking clear?"

"I'm not afraid of you, you sleazy scumbag punk," he hissed.

"Whatever, Bill, but you might want to know that the circuit board for your home security system is manufactured by a company I own," I lied. I had no idea if there was a circuit board for his system or who the hell manufactured it, but I was pretty sure he didn't know either.

Bill and I were at an impasse. He was a bully and a liar who was used to manipulating people using both other people's faith and sins to get what he wanted. My advantage was that I was well known to be willing to inflict pain to get what I wanted (I just wanted to protect my ladies) and he was averse to actual physical confrontation.

Belle brought a whole new definition to the conflict at First Anointed Free-willed Fellowship of Christ Church. There were a growing number of people willing to resist the order Bill had crafted for his own power. Now people defied him and the normal techniques of censor had little effect. His best hope was that Zane Braxton would get hung in another bizarre encounter and remove himself from the equation without Bill's interference. That was his hope, anyway.


"Hey, Briana," I told my buddy from Colorado State. I was standing outside the door that led to my floor once more.

"Hey, Future Slave to my Desires," she giggled back. She was a whole lot more playful than the last time we'd talked.

"Gak!" I played with her. "I'm pleased to find you in higher spirits tonight. I hope that means you are doing better?"

"Actually, I had a freaky weekend," she sighed. "I met my boyfriend's other girlfriend – it was a totally psycho-girlfriend moment too. She came at me when I was training with some sisters for a 5K run. She appeared in the parking lot and started screaming at me. It was scary. I had three sisters and she brought two wacked-out friends. A pair of off-duty firemen broke it up; sadly, one is married and the other is gay."

"Briana, I have a confession: I'm a gay man in denial and I'm tired of hiding the real me," I stated sincerely. Briana's laughter rocketed through the connection, followed by some off-screen conversation, then the phone being handed around.

"If you want that lie to be believable, tell us you are secretly a lesbian," Jarunee snickered at me in her native Thai tongue.

"Give me a second and I'll come up with something more believable," I chuckled back in the same lingo. "How have you been?"

"Pretty good; better than you since that little Korean girl wiped your ass all over the mats," she responded in English.

"Okay, she's not so little, and I have it on good authority she was a champion on the Tijuana Midget Fighting Circuit while still in preschool," I covered my ass, then a fear began clawing its way inside me. "Is there any suggestion that she and I may have gone to bed together?"

"Of course; this morning's upload," Jarunee informed me.

"Oh...in that case, please tell the rest of the Kappa Sigmas that I won't be doing Spring Break after all," I groaned.

"What – why?" Jarunee gulped, wondering what she'd done wrong.

"Her dad is going to kill me," I related jokingly. "I won't make it to the end of this semester, much less to March. It was a nice dream, though."

"Are you serious?" Jarunee worried.

"Apparently Hope's – that's Hope Song who kicked my ass – father is some sort of a South Korean superman who eats two-bit punks like me for breakfast," I shrugged.

"It can't be..." and the phone was taken away.

"Oh, my God! Was that one of Yeong Song's daughters you banged that can now be seen all over the internet?" a different girl babbled. "You really are a dead man."

"Ooo-kayyy...who are you, by the way? I'm Zane," I started off.

"Sorry. I'm Chrissy and my father is in the Navy and he does...stuff. I don't know how bad that man is but I've seen SEALs scramble to get out of that man's way faster than they would for any admiral."

"What? That's absurd," I joked. "No one is that much of a bad-ass." Except for Gabrielle Black -- I am so going to die at this man's hands, aren't I?

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