Slut Class Ch. 09 - PK Seduction

Every Wednesday afternoon, at exactly 1 PM, Bob Little stood up in front of the library and talked to whoever would listen about the Lord.

Sometimes only a few people would look sideways at him as they walked by. Once, he had over twenty-five people gathered around. He noticed the more he talked about sex, the bigger a crowd he got, and that shouldn't be the goal, but it was satisfying nonetheless. Surely if more people were listening he was reaching more people, by definition, even though the only time he actually gained a convert was in the occasional one-on-one discussion.

Converts were far and few between. And the audiences had dwindled, too, since the big screen in front of the Student Union played porn most of the day of the girls in that horrible class for sluts. Sometimes, however, it showed sports highlights, and then Bob could usually manage a small audience. Today he had five congregants gathered around in a circle. People were polite. Once a circle formed, people gave him space, which let him pace a little as he held his Bible up in the air and told them the truth.

His father had been a campus preacher too, an actual ordained minister, who spent his off-Sundays preaching at a big public university. Of course, he couldn't get access to Maplewood's campus as only students and staff could get in. And there were twenty-five thousand students instead of Maplewood's twelve hundred. That had been before the Church of Gaea had taken root, too. His father regularly let him know how disappointed he was in Bob's relative lack of success.

"The Bible says that sex outside marriage is sin," Bob said. "And sinners go to hell, except by the grace of God. Only if you truly repent, and ask for forgiveness, God will save you from hell."

"So, basically, we should have all the sex we can now, and then repent later, because after we repent it's one chick for the rest of our lives?" asked a lanky sophomore Bob had seen before. Some people liked to debate. Bob liked to think they wouldn't spend their time that way unless they were drawn to the message somehow.

"Well, Bert, it doesn't really work that way. You can't just use repentance as a gimmick. And what if you get hit by the number twenty-three bus at three twenty-five today? If you die in a state of sin, you're going to spend an eternity in hell. No chicks at all. Is the gamble worth it?"

Bert was only half-listening, his attention distracted by something off to his left. Bob followed his gaze. Three women were approaching, and they were in Nikki Love's slut class. He knew that, because he'd seen all of them topless on the big screen, even though he tried not to look that way. One of them had pink hair and wore daisy dukes and a crop top that didn't even fully cover the undersides of her large boobs. Another was a Latina wearing a black Lycra cocktail dress with cutouts in the sides to reveal glimpses of bare skin, and a diamond in the front to show off cleavage. The third wore a very short flowery skirt, and a halter top that was almost decent, if you ignored the fact that it said, "I swallow," on it. She had fiery red hair, just like Bob's mom.

In spite of himself, his cock twitched a little. He knew that had a function. Just like pain warned you of injury, arousal warned you of temptation. He turned away, focusing on Bert, who wasn't at all sexy. He wasn't, right? Bob thought being gay was a choice, and he chose not to be. Even if it wasn't a choice, he wasn't. If he was, Bert still wouldn't be his type. It was safe to look that way.

Being aroused had another function, he supposed. Being aroused by girls assured you that you weren't gay. Thank the Lord.

The Latina cut right through the circle and walked past him, which let him see that there was also a cutout in the back, revealing a generous about of reverse cleavage. In his father's day the police would have arrested a woman for walking around in that outfit. She passed a few inches from Bob's arm, took three more steps with her hips swaying, and then pirouetted. "Hi there," she said.

The pink-haired girl was to his left, the other slut to his right. They surrounded him.

"I'm Flora," said the Latina. "My friends are Stella and Jeni. Stella has the pink hair. What's your name?"

It had to be rhetorical. Everyone knew who he was. "Bob. Nice to meet you."

"I can see that." Stella's gaze dropping pointedly to his crotch. He'd managed to not get a hard-on, so she was bluffing, but her looking didn't make it any easier.

"If you want to listen, please join the circle. It's a little hard for everyone to listen when you stand in the way." He'd told people that a dozen times, and usually they moved back.

"Well, we believe strongly in consent. We don't want to do anything with anyone they don't agree to." Flora shimmied while she talked, bent forward, then straightened. It was distracting.

"Well, I won't agree to do anything with you," Bob said. "So please step back."

"The thing is, Bob, you don't, like, own the library steps, you know?" said Stella. "They are for everyone." She reached out as if to touch his chest, but stopped an inch away. Then she made a circle with it, like she was rubbing him, before drifting downward. Her body followed her hand, so she was crouching when her hand passed millimeters from the bulge in his jeans.

"Oh, he likes that," Flora said.

"It got a reaction." Stella licked her lips.

Jeni just stood there and watched, not saying anything. Bob's mother had always been the quiet type, too.

"Ladies, I'm only human, but having desires doesn't mean giving into temptation," Bob said.

"Yes, and arousal does not mean consent," said Flora. "Sometimes I get wet at fantasies that I wouldn't want to have happen in reality."

"Right," said Bob, not sure it was the best point of agreement but finding common ground was part of his technique, and being clear that whatever was happening between his legs didn't mean he was going to do anything about seemed like a good idea.

"So don't worry, we aren't won't take that very pronounced erection of yours to mean that we can touch you all over," Flora said.

"But I'm pretty sure your cock wishes we would. Can you imagine how good it would feel if Jeni wrapped her lips around it, and her wet mouth surrounded your hard, thick cock?" asked Stella.

He couldn't help but look over at Jeni. She smiled silently and licked her lips.

"Jeni gives incredible blowjobs," Flora said. "My boyfriend raves about them."

"Get thee behind me, Satan," Bob said.

Stella giggled and moved behind him. "Would you like that?" she asked. "Being pegged by me while Jeni sucks your cock?"

"Now you know, Stella, that a lot of men feel very uncomfortable with things in their asses," said Flora. "Makes them worry they are gay or something, not that there's anything wrong with being gay, or bisexual, or that it makes any sense that liking a woman in your rear end makes you gay. We don't want to make Bob feel uncomfortable."

"Speak for yourself," Stella retorted. "Besides, it's always a little uncomfortable going in, especially the first time. But one gets used to—hey!"

Jeni grabbed Stella's arm and pulled her away from behind him.

"What about consent?" Stella pouted at Jeni.

Flora kissed Stella, and Stella quit complaining and started groping. Jeni just shrugged at Bob as if to say, "what can I do?"

Well, at least a bigger crowd had gathered.

"Come on, ladies," said Jeni. She started walking away, and the other two broke their clinch and hurried to catch up with her. Bob started up his spiel, and the crowd soon dissipated.

That night, Bob lay in bed thinking about them. He thought about Stella's breasts, and the way one could reach up right under that shirt and have more than a handful. He thought about Flora's ass. He started stroking himself, even though he thought maybe that was a sin. And he thought about Jeni's red lips, wrapped around his cock, swallowing all the seed that in reality ended up all over his stomach.

The next day, he prepared for the girls. If they came by in their slutty outfits, he wouldn't back down. He'd shame them in front of everyone. The important thing was that people could see that the Lord gave him strength to hold an unpopular opinion. If he won just one soul over, it would be worth it.

He started preaching, and he kept an eye out. He had an audience of two, and most of the time they seemed more engrossed in their Calculus homework than the Word, but plenty of people were passing by and hearing fragments of the Gospel.

Sure enough, the sluts showed up again. Well, two of them did. The Latina, Flora, and the redhead, Jeni. Their pink-haired friend wasn't with them, and they dressed less provocatively. Flora wore a black dress that hugged her figure, with a high collar and a hem near her ankles. A little too tight, but respectable. Jeni wore a simple white T-shirt and a knee-length brown skirt. Bob was used to women showing their calves and wearing clothes that hugged their breasts on campus and knew that it was a lost cause to call that out.

He told himself that wasn't because he secretly liked it, even though he knew he did.

They sat down on the steps and listened. He preached from the Gospel of John. Sometimes it was best not to confront things too directly. Let them see God loved them, and then, when they warmed to that idea, remind them He expected them to be chaste.

"Reverend Little," Flora interrupted eventually.

"Yes, Flora?" He wasn't always good with names, but he remembered hers and Jeni's.

"Were we made in God's image?"

"Yes! The Bible says so!" He tapped the book meaningfully.

"Why would we cover ourselves up, then?" Flora asked.

"Because—uh, after the fall, man knew sin. And the naked body inflames passions, which lead to sin."

"Did seeing our bodies the other day inflame passions?" she asked.

He really wished lying wasn't a sin. "I don't think we should talk about that."

"So yes. Was that unpleasant?"

"Again, that's not an appropriate..."

"Did you masturbate, thinking about us?" Flora's voice stayed calm, as if genuinely curious.

"It's not appropriate to talk about such things," Bob said. Please God, can't I lie just once?

"It was Stella you thought about, wasn't it?" Jeni asked. "It's always Stella."

"Actually--" Bob blushed, thinking about how he'd imagined cumming in mouth of the woman whose lips had just moved. "Never mind."

"Don't do that to him," said Flora to Jeni. "Don't make him choose. We've made him uncomfortable." She turned back to Bob. "How do you feel when you see a sunset?"

"In awe of God's handiwork," he said. "I appreciate the beauty He has created."

"But I'm God's handiwork. And so is Flora." Jeni stood and turned around slowly. "Is it not good to appreciate His handiwork?"

There were a few dozen people around now, mostly standing at a distance. The girls sure were good for drawing a crowd. And Flora wasn't wrong. Especially dressed as she was, modestly, it was good to appreciate God's handiwork. "Yes," he admitted. "Beauty is a gift from God, and you are beautiful."

"And yet her beauty inflames lust, doesn't it?" Flora got up and ran her hands over Jeni's figure, making a show of how her hands had to move to accommodate Jeni's curves. "I know what you are feeling."

"What you're trying to make me feel, you mean."

"No, that's not what I mean. You're feeling aesthetic appreciation. It defies mathematics, or clear words. You can't pin it down logically. Kant said that beauty makes one feel like it has a purpose, but we can't reduce it to the merely functional, and we feel that difference between what we perceive and what we can know as pleasure."

There were two kinds of people who argued with Bob. There were the bros and the smart asses who wanted to get their licks in. He'd classified the sluts in that category.

The other kind were the philosophy majors. He usually shut them down. They came prepared for a particular line of argument, and there was no way he could guess what it would be and have the same level of preparation. If he gave them the time of day he ended up looking like an ass. But he didn't want to stop looking at either Jeni or Flora, and he wasn't sure she was wrong. Beauty gave him pleasure, and not just the kind that made his dick hard.

"Augustine said that beauty was a gift from God, but so that we should not think it too great a gift, he gave it both the wicked and the good," he replied.

"Jeni, do you mind showing us some more of that gift from God?" asked Flora.

Jeni smiled. "Of course not," she said, and pulled her shirt off. She wore a green lacy bra. Was there a lining under the lace? He thought he saw a hint of darkness where the nipples should be, but the lace partly covered them, and it was hard to tell. If they had been on display, or covered, he would have turned away, but he stared to figure out which it was. Either way, Jeni exposed half her breasts, shaped into perfect demi-globes, above the lace.

As a result, he didn't feel Flora move beside him. "It's okay to aesthetically appreciate," Flora said. "She's beautiful. Her proportions are harmonious."

Yeah, that was what he was appreciating, was harmonious proportions. He tried to think of something to say, but it was hard to take in her words, stare at boobs, and come up with what the Lord would want him to say at the same time. "Help me, Holy Spirt," he whispered under his breath.

"The appreciation of beauty is transcendent. It bypasses our cognition to be something more. And religion would like a monopoly on the transcendent, would it? It's a jealous bitch."

"That language is not--" he said, going on automatic pilot at the triggering word.

"But there can't be a monopoly. You see her. I see her. All these people see her. Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, Atheists, Gaeans—we all see her, and we all see the same thing. Beauty. We all feel the same touch of something beyond us. We don't understand it because it's mystical. We don't understand it because it's divine."

"Divine?" he asked.

She reached out and took his hand. He was vaguely aware of Jeni stepping closer.

"Only God is Divine," he said.

"And we are in His image." She lifted his hand. She held it a few inches from the bare half of Jeni's right breast.

"Technically--" he thought of saying that man was in God's image, and that woman came from Adam's rib, but he knew that he lost people when he said that sort of thing. The Holy Spirit needed to come through, and fast.

"I'm going to let go, and you can do what you want. Jeni, may he touch you?" Flora asked.

"If he wants to," Jeni said.

Bob wanted to touch. He wondered how silky that skin would feel. He couldn't think with that kind of distraction going on. Not moving his hand away seemed sinful, but at least he didn't move it forward. Pride snuck up on him and he smirked. He'd show people a man of God could withstand any temptation, by holding his hand right there but not touching.

Someone crashed into him from behind, and he lurched forward. Instinctively he reached out to keep his balance, and the closest thing available was Jeni's breast. He felt her give way, tried to keep her from falling, and ended up grabbing her ass. They both tumbled. He ended up on top of her, his hand on forbidden pale flesh, and his lips less than an inch from hers. He knew she could feel his hardness against her leg.

She opened her lips and reduced the gap to mere millimeters.

He'd rarely let himself fantasize about fucking, or even groping. He assumed it would only make one do the real thing more readily. But he'd often thought about kissing. He'd imagined warm lips against his, in between whispers about waiting for marriage. And so, when Jeni's lips parted in invitation, instinct took over. He kissed her.

Around them, people clapped.

Oh shit.

Then Jeni wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close and kissing him deeply. He felt he should pull away, but it was probably too late. Her body was moving under his, rubbing against his hard cock. He kissed her back, wondering if he was falling straight into hell, and why it felt so very good.

"Are you okay?" he asked when she let him come up for air.

"Never better."

He looked around. At some point Stella had arrived, with a pink crop top that matched her hair but didn't quite cover her black bra, and well-frayed cut-off jeans. She stood with Flora.

He scrambled to his feet.

"We've all seen, preach," Stella said. "News will get around. I have pictures, even. Maybe Dr. Love will put it on the big screen."

Oh, no.

"Don't be sad," said Flora. "You've liberated yourself. You can do whatever you want now."

"Including," Jeni whispered, "sliding your cock into my wet, eager mouth." She stood next to him.

No one had heard that, he was sure. "Someplace private," he whispered back.

She nodded. "That's been enough teasing of Reverend Bob," she said. "He and I are going to have a friendly talk. Showtime is over."

He appreciated her defending him, and the feeling of her hand as she interlaced it with his.

"Is he going to save your soul?" yelled a heckler.

"No. But maybe I'll save his," Jeni said. She led him away.

"Do you mind putting your shirt on?" he asked when they were twenty yards across the quad.

"Do you really want me to, or do you just think you should want me to?" she asked.

"Probably the latter," he admitted.

"Well then, it's staying off," she said cheerfully. She led him into her dorm, and then to her room, and pushed him to the bed.

"You don't have to do this," he said.

"Maybe I want to," she said. "You're kinda cute." She knelt between his legs and unzipped him.

He hesitated. Indecisiveness wasn't a sin, was it? He just had to think for a while/

But he couldn't think about anything but her, once her red lips slid over his hard cock, just like in his dream.

***

A day later, Bob stood on the steps again, with the usual small audience. "Beauty," he said.

An ear perked up. His sermons didn't usually begin that way.

"Beauty is our purpose. Our reason for being. To create it. To share it. To appreciate it. In beauty we sense the divine."

He noticed a few more students sit down. Stella, Flora, and Jeni listened from the back.

"The beauty of a sunset, the beauty of a painting, the beauty of a woman's body, or a man's. The sound of music, or the pleasure of lovemaking. That's what we're here for."

"Has he become a Gaean?" asked Flora.

"No, I think he's inventing something all by himself," Jeni said. "It's literally beautiful."

Flora groaned.

"You too had a good time, then, huh?" asked Stella. "Religious experience, and all that."

"Like Paul on the road to Damascus," said Jeni.

"Whatever that is," said Stella. "How long did it take for him to come down your throat."

"Thirty seconds the first time. But a lot longer the second," said Jeni. "Lay off him, he's okay. Just brought up wrong, I think. You didn't have to barge into him like that the other day. We agreed this was going to be consensual all the way."

Stella shrugged. "I was just giving him an excuse to do exactly what he did. Consent and plausible deniability."

"Actually, Jeni's right. Consent requires clear communication," said Flora.

"Thank you, Miss Philosophy. Gang up on me and you're not getting your muff munched tonight."

"You know I hate that phrase," Flora said.

"Oh so sorry," said Stella. "Your pussy licked. Your cunny cunnilingussed."

"That's not even a word," said Flora.

Jeni took a step forward, not wanting to be involved. She'd heard them spat before and knew how it always ended. She caught Bob's eye and winked.

He smiled.

She shrugged, and tugged at the tank top she was wearing, her eyebrows making it a question. He gestured her forward.