Forbidden Fruit: The Preacher's Daughter

I’m Markus, and some say I’m a monster; a well adjusted, financially independent monster, but a monster nonetheless.    
 
The preacher’s wife, Katie, and I exercised extreme discretion over the next few weeks and fell into a pattern. She monitored the secretary’s schedule and I was on standby at a moment’s notice. I needed rest, so relaxing while waiting for her texts suited me. After a few days, I noticed a Pavlovian response to the ping of my phone that always resulted in a pleasurable hour-long rendezvous with Katie at her office or my hotel room.  
   
During my time of relaxation, I read widely. Katie didn’t realize I was also researching her daughter, who was usually in the home under the grandmother’s supervision along with the other three younger kids when not in school. The daughter’s only social activities were school and church.    
   
I learned that the daughter, Hannah, was quite skilled with her smartphone and used it to explore the world her father forbade her from entering. Her mom paid for the phone from a separate account she held without her husband’s knowledge. She knew this was her daughter’s connection to the outside world.    
   
I was in a happy place because while Katie satisfied my physical needs regularly, I focused on a new chase, the pursuit of the preacher's daughter. I decided to pose as a high school student from a neighboring town. I could even act the part if necessary, especially with all my free time for scriptwriting. A 30-year old playing the role of an 18-year old would not be a difficult stretch for someone with my talent. The challenge would be breaking down physical barriers once the relationship was established.    
   
My new character was named Daniel, and by all accounts, he was a good kid. Daniel was a senior at Desert Springs High School in neighboring Riverside, CA.  I whittled the logistics right down to specifics and included backstory about Daniel’s recent move to the new high school from out of state so he wouldn’t be well known yet. Daniel had a younger sister, enjoyed church activities for which he could offer great detail, and excelled in school. I even constructed backstories about my parents, where they met, married, and all about their family tree.    
   
I was already clean-cut and professional looking but shaved my beard and picked up some younger clothes. I made social media pages and quickly connected with Katie's daughter, Hannah, through our shared interest in art competitions and area museums. After she commented on a painting, I added a comment below that gave her high praise for her insight and knowledge. She left a thank you and smiley face, so I sent her a connection request message. It worked!    
   
“Hi, thank you for noticing my comment about the art competition entries. Art in high school is one of my few refuges in life. Art brings such richness to everything. What are your favorite art styles and mediums?”    
   
Thus began carefully crafted conversations designed to build a relationship between a student in Eastvale and an "18-year-old" in Riverside. I was very cautious and in no hurry since Hanna’s mom kept my inner monster happy and controlled.    
   
Over the next two weeks we sent messages back and forth, shared photos, and told about our families. Her father only came up when explaining why she wasn’t able to participate in school activities outside of school hours.    
   
In her photos, she wore conservative dresses like her mom, cropped tightly around the neck. She had hair and skin like her mom and the same brown eyes. She was thin and pale but had a beaming smile. She later sent me a photo she took of herself in a swimsuit. She said her mom let her try it on when they were shopping. She snapped the photo in the dressing room, but her dad wouldn’t allow her to buy it.    
   
Her young figure was amazing to be so thin. She had breasts that looked smaller than her mom's, and slim shapely hips over shapely legs that needed some sun.    
   
I told her about my house on Fairview Avenue, walking distance from Andulka Park. She knew where I was because she had played on the playground equipment several years before when her mother took the kids.    
   
We eventually got around to relationships. She told me about two boys she had liked and they liked her but her dad fixed her school schedule so she never saw them. I told her about several girlfriends I’d had at my old school, but since I was new in Riverside, I didn’t have a girlfriend yet. I asked her if we could tell my buddies that she was my girlfriend even though she was 20-miles away. She liked the idea. She said I could show her photo to friends, but not the swimsuit picture. I agreed.    
   
Another week went by, and our chats got more personal, especially about family and our loneliness. Finally, she said she wanted to meet me. I was reserved about the idea even though inwardly, I was ready to see her. I said if she wanted to, I could easily get to Eastvale since I had a car. She said she wanted to come to Riverside and would take a cab when her parents thought she was at school. I told her that was risky, but she had her mind made up. I told her to think about it a few days having just read a warning from Søren Kierkegaard. “Many of us pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that we hurry past it.”    
   
She wouldn’t let it drop, so I told her we could meet at the park and then walk or drive back to my house. We compared our weekly schedules, and she suggested we meet on a Friday because her teachers were looser about attendance at the end of the week. We decided on 10:30 a.m. because that would get us both into the lunch schedule where missing students aren’t easily noticed.  
   
Two days later, I stood next to the tennis courts watching for Hannah. A yellow cab drove up and she got out wearing a knee-length skirt and white blouse cropped to the neck.    
   
I waved and ran to her. She gave me a hug. We sat on a bench next to the court and talked, laughing at the curious looks from strangers playing tennis.    
   
My transformation into an 18-year-old seemed to be working. As we talked, I looked closely at her face. I couldn’t believe such a strange family could produce such a beautiful young lady. She glowed in the warm September sun. The words of Jess Scott came to mind. “The human body is the best work of art.”    
   
What Hannah didn’t know was that I had recently rented an apartment in a nearby house on Fairview Drive. I had told Hannah where I lived in our messages and even sent photos showing my parents and sixteen-year-old younger sister. Truth was, this was just the family living in their home while renting me the attached apartment.    
   
“Do you want to see my house, and visit there?” Hannah sprang from the bench, and we walked quickly, chatting and laughing as we went.    
   
When we arrived, I told her we could go in through the back and that my parents were at work. We entered my bedroom and continued into the little kitchen the landlords allowed me to share. The house was so big that they had a larger kitchen for the family. I poured us some ice water and we talked at the table.    
   
Hannah giggled with a mischievous giddiness I hadn’t expected from Katie’s description of her as the adult in the family.    
   
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” she said.  
   
“Me neither,” I said carefully.    
   
“I hope I’m not getting you in trouble,” she said, nervously sliding a thin silver ring back and forth on her finger.    
   
“Don’t worry about me. I used to skip at my old high school and never got caught. This new school is even looser. Where did you get that silver ring?”    
   
She paused with the ring half-way on the ring finger of her right hand. As she placed it in my palm, she said, “It was my grandmother’s wedding ring. When she died, it went to my mother, and she passed it on to me.”    
   
I held the ring reverently. It was smooth from age, and warm from Hannah’s hand. A mythical saying from my recent reading flashed across my mind. “I forgive iniquity, but I do not excuse the guilty. I lay the sins of the parents upon their children and grandchildren…” I shook my head to break the trance.    
   
It is beautiful,” I said softly. “What a treasure.” She extended her hand, and I placed the ring on her finger. She let her hand go limp, resting on mine as we talked. I felt pride in my sexual control, but I did find Hannah's hand to be very exciting. I placed my other hand over her shiny ring to sandwich her hand. Her voice faded into the background as I became lost in the warmth. Her fingers were thin and glossy moist. Her nails were plain, but carefully maintained with some clear rounded tips extending from every finger.    
   
I thought of this hand’s seventeen years, such a short time. How amazing the human hand is in its ability to express meaning during speech or through touch. For a moment, I felt eighteen again, heart tapping in anticipation, but I wasn’t eighteen. I remembered her mother, Katie's fingers locked with mine as if holding to the edge of a cliff.  I thought of Breanna’s thin fingers in the shower a few weeks before, gently rubbing suds over me. Yes, there was plenty of pleasure in holding Hanna’s young hand.  
   
“Have you done any AP courses?”  
   
“Eh, what? I’m sorry?” I said.    
   
Hannah laughed, “Have you had any AP…advance placement courses?”    
   
“Oh, no, I’m just an average student,” I said, wondering what else I’d missed from her soothing sweet-toned verbal barrage.    
   
“I’m only taking AP English and art.”    
   
“Nice,” I said. I found her bright mind surprising with that dad of hers. And, smart is definitely sexier than dumb.  
   
I said, “It’s almost 2:30! I’d better get you an Uber before they come looking for you. Wouldn’t it be safer for you to avoid a bright yellow taxi?”    
   
She agreed, and I paid her way back to her school while adding money for the next time if there was to be a next time. She could tell from the house that I was from a wealthy family. She gave me a peck on the cheek and a hug before prancing lightly out to the taxi.    
   
I was pleased with my self discipline, thinking any hurried action would blow up my desired goal.    
   
Another week went by, and she brought up the Friday meeting idea again. We followed the same routine but with a plain-looking Uber car this time. We met at the tennis courts and walked home.  
   
I poured us some ice water, and we walked down the hallway to my room. Once inside, I felt a change. What were these feelings I felt with this petite human named Hannah? My chest burned inside of me, and I feared the rising within. Hannah immediately sat on the edge of my bed and smiled up at me. I sat quickly on her right side, trying to read her face. She touched my hand, and I saw her ring lit from the open window. I rubbed her hand softly and then felt her hug.  
   
Her arms wrapped around my waist, and her head pressed against my shoulder. “I’ve never known anyone like you,” she said.    
   
Then she looked up at me, still against my shoulder. We kissed lightly. The burning pull in my chest grew. I felt logic and caution leave my body, and only haste remained. I rubbed her hair down her back with a trembling hand and kissed her again. My fingers rested on her neck as they had with her mother weeks before. As we kissed, my hand slid down, watching for tension in her body. There was none, and my hand rested on her breasts, warm and firm. Our kissing became more intense. All I could think was she must have done some research of her own.  
   
I lowered my hand to her stomach while thinking of her mom, imagining future lives that might someday grow within. She went limp and laid back on the mattress, spreading her hands overhead and giggling.  
   
“I feel so naughty,” she said. “But I like being naughty.”    
   
I said, “Naughty looks good on you.” She laughed, and her face lifted into a child’s smile, blushing, with bright eyes.    
   
My last bit of caution disappeared and I rolled down to the floor, kneeling before her spread legs still under her dress. I let my hands slide over her stomach and chest saying “I want to feel your warmth. You’re so beautiful.”    
   
As I continued my light frontal massage, her hands came down to her sides, and the skirt came up, revealing white panties. I didn’t hesitate but leaned down and kissed her, feeling moisture through the thin fabric. I stayed pressed against her for the warmth on my lips and salty taste of aroused flesh.  
   
Hannah's eyes looked away, and her arms were crossed over her breasts. She was a woman and yet a child, naive, and ill prepared, being placed in a situation not of her making. I feared I’d pushed too far and moved to her side, caressing her cheek and whispering, “We can stop any time.”  
   
She stared silently for a moment, lips softening. “No, we can’t stop any more than we can stop the colors of fall.” Her words were measured in the same adult voice of confession I’d heard from her mother.    
   
I kissed her cheek and stayed still for several minutes.    
   
Gradually her arms moved back over her head, and I felt movement below. Looking down, I saw her knees raised slightly. I moved back to the floor and pulled her panties down to reveal her treasure wrapped in short shiny pubic hairs the same color as the long curls spread above her. I paused, standing over her. Then I felt the hot pull in my chest moving lower to my center and heard a whisper in my head. “Take her now.”  
   
As I crawled between her spread legs, she sat up to scoot back on the bed and then fling back her hair as she fell back onto the bed. Her legs rested limp and open. I stared at her and thought, if there is a God, he’s a hell-of-an artist! A dark voice in my head said, “Don’t be an idiot.” I leaned down to lick her softly, encouraged by the moans from above. I felt her fingers atop my head, giving her approval. Then I moved higher, kissing as I went.    
   
I rose above her and aimed slowly at her dark fury shadow. I found her wet slit and pressed in as her chest shuddered. Her warm inner cavity was elastic around me as I began to find my slow and easy pace.  
   
Her bright face turned toward the open window and her eyes glistened. When she turned to face me, I saw steaks from the corners of her eyes.    
   
“Is it OK? Are you alright?” I said in my gentlest tones. I could feel my inner monster saying, “Of course she’s alright, you fool,” but I didn’t want to jeopardize what was happening.    
   
Her eyes reddened, and she said, “I’m just scared and happy.” More water escaped the corners of her eyes, and I kissed them.  
   
“I’m scared and happy, too,” I said carefully.    
   
I continued basking in each precious thrust into this beautiful human. I felt a desire to make this good for her, but my monster said, “Drill her, you fool.” I fought the temptation to seek only my pleasure.    
   
“I’ll pull out,” I whispered as she whimpered beneath me. “When it’s time.”    
   
She sighed and smiled, still teary-eyed.  
   
I looked down to where we joined in our sin the same as I’d been bound to her mother. Her hands pressed close to where I entered. As I increased my pace, I noticed her fingers spread with tips touching my sliding cock. Her silver ring glistened as we moved in concert.    
   
She raised her head to look down and saw my entering member. She stared with novel interest as I continued my work, her juices more than adequate for our pleasure.    
   
I felt my body tipping, and she saw it in my eyes. With one last sustaining thrust, I held off, not wishing our union to end. Then I came out and gushed over her stomach in repeated pulsing as she watched wide-eyed.    
   
Exhausted, I fell into her and we lay there for a while with our heads touching whispering softly. After a few minutes of affectionate murmuring and light kisses, she said, “I’m thankful you were my first.”  
   
“I’m thankful too,” I said.