Message-ID: <40723asstr$1044504605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: anais ninja <anais_ninja@hotmail.com>
User-Agent: Xnews/5.04.25
Subject: {ASSM} Exile - Chapter Three - Gimme Shelter (Mf bf teen oral drugs)
Date: Wed,  5 Feb 2003 23:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Exile
 
(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html 

 
Note:  This is my story.  The names and details have been changed to
protect the privacy of those involved.  Some of this account has
been reconstructed from memory, but most of it has been based on a
journal I kept during these years. 
 
This is a sequel to _Wanderings_, which can be found on my asstr-mirror.org
site: 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/wander/index.html 

 
Chapter Three - Gimme Shelter (Mf bf teen oral drugs)


We were moving.  I sat up and looked around.  It was light out.  
Suddenly, the cab stopped short and I hit my head against the
partition. 

"Who are you?  Get out my cab!  Get out!"  The driver, a man with a 
bushy black mustache, pulled over to the curb and got out.  He
banged on the window and opened the back door, all the while yelling
in a language I couldn't understand.  I grabbed my bag and went out
the opposite door, running as fast as I could.  The driver got back
in his cab and drove off.

I found myself standing under an elevated train track, next to a big
cathedral.  People were going inside, even though it was early and
the sun was barely up.  I crossed the street and followed them into
the church, quietly taking a seat in a back pew.  I felt like I'd
only had a couple of hours of sleep, so I closed my eyes and dozed
off to the sound of Mass.

"Sweetheart?  Sweetheart?"

I opened my eyes.  The church was empty except for the grey-haired 
priest sitting next to me.

"I'm awake, sir," I said.

"Are you in some trouble, dear?  Is there anything I can do to
help?" 

"No, I'm okay, thanks."

"Is there someone I can call for you?"

"No."

"Come with me, dear.  Come."  He gave me a look of pity and held out
his hand, taking me back behind the ornate altar and into an office.
 While I sat down and looked around at the rich paneling and
portraits of men in cassocks and robes, he made a phone call.

"...yes...no...this morning's mass...a split lip and a bit of a
shiner, I'm afraid...perhaps...about thirteen or 
fourteen...yes...yes...wonderful...very good...thank you."

"Was that the police?"  I asked.  I began to resign myself to being 
shipped back to Maine.

"No, dear.  That was Father Ken.  He runs a youth ministry and
shelter." 

"I'm not Catholic," I said.

"That doesn't matter," he replied, walking over to where I was
seated.  "He'll help you."

"Thank you," I said.  While we waited for Father Ken, the priest let
me use the office's small bathroom.  My cheek was bruised from
hitting the glass in the back of the cab and my lip was swollen
where Sandi had cut me.  I washed up and brushed my hair.  When I
emerged, there was another priest in the office, somewhat younger,
with longish hair and Elvis-like sideburns.

"I'm Father Ken," he said, holding out his hand.  "What's your
name?" 

"Anne," I said.

"Are you hungry, Anne?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, come with me.  I'll see that you get some breakfast, and then
we can talk.  Is that all right?"

"Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir."

Father Ken had a brief conversation with the other priest and then
we left.  The shelter was just a few blocks away, in an old
brownstone on a block that had seen better days.  The halls smelled
like disinfectant but it was warm, with steam heat hissing from the
radiators.  He led me into a small dining room, with a couple of
rows of tables and benches, the kind school cafeterias have.  While
I waited, Father Ken went to the adjoining kitchen and spoke to
someone I couldn't see.  A few minutes later, a nun appeared with a
tray.  She placed it in front of me, smiled, and left.

The eggs were runny, the toast was burnt, and there was no coffee,
but I didn't care.  I devoured the meal in under a minute, and when
the nun returned to fetch the tray, I asked for another helping. 
She was happy to oblige.

Father Ken returned with a notebook and pencil and asked me a few 
questions.  I told him about my family, Julia, the foster home, 
carefully sanitizing the events of the past few days.  I told him
about Mr. Hubbard, though, and Father Ken's eyebrows arched when I
told him about the encounter in the bathroom.  When I had finished
my tale, he just sat there, silently mouthing a prayer.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I'm not going to send you back to Maine, if that's what you're
afraid of."

"Thank you," I said, feeling relieved.

"Come, let me show you to your room.  You can wash up and have a
nap, and then we can figure out what to do," he said.  I followed
him upstairs, to the top floor.  He showed me into a small room with
a cot and a dresser.  There was a bathroom across the hall, with a
claw-footed bathtub and an old porcelain sink.  Father Ken left for
a moment and returned with a couple of towels.

"Here.  I've started a nice warm bath for you," he said, handing me
the towels.

"Thanks."  I followed him down the hall to the bathroom.

"Why don't you give me your clothes, and I can have Sister Bernice
put them in the laundry," he said.

"Um, okay," I said.  I felt a bit funny getting undressed in front
of him, but he was a priest, so it had to be okay, like going to the
doctor or something.  I pulled off my sweater and jeans and handed
them over, standing before him in Sandi's leopard print panties.

"Where did you get those?" he asked.  There was an edge to his
voice. 

"Um...I borrowed them," I said, which was technically true.

"Hand them over," Father Ken demanded.  "I'll look for something
more 'age-appropriate' among the donations."

I slowly stepped out of Sandi's panties and handed them over,
standing before him cross-legged, hoping he wouldn't notice the
tampon string between my legs.  Even though my flow had stopped
right after Sandi kicked me out of the loft, I was still riding the
white pony, just in case.

After Father Ken left with my clothes, I tested the bath water and
got into the tub.  There was a threadbare washcloth and a half of a
bar of mild soap.  Nothing like the expensive bath oil that Julia
used to buy for me, but it would have to do.  I cleaned myself up
and was about to relax in the tub when the door opened unexpectedly.
 Father Ken didn't believe in knocking.

"This is the largest size I could find," he said, placing an
unopened package of girls' cotton panties next to the tub.  He'd
also brought a pair of boys' trousers and a grey sweatshirt.

"I have clothes with me," I said.

"I know, and most of them were not what I would consider 'age 
appropriate'.  And I found a substantial amount of money in your
coat." 

"Hey!  That's my..."  I was pissed that he'd gone through my
clothes, but this was even worse.

"Don't worry.  You'll get it back.  I'm just holding on to it for
safe- keeping," he said.

"Oh..."

"But I can't help to be curious about how you came into that much 
money," Father Ken said.  I hadn't told him about picking my foster 
parent's pocket while I blew him.

"Have you been working the streets?" he asked in a softer tone.

"No."

"Then how...?"

"I found it."

"You found it?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I found it in Mr. Hubbard's pocket while he was fucking my face!" I
shouted, startling the priest to the point that he took a step back.

"I see," he finally said.  "I see."

By this point in the conversation, I had drawn my knees up and had
my arms crossed over my chest.  Father Ken had been looking at me,
not as a priest but as a man, and I had instinctively covered
myself. 

"I'll leave you then, until dinner," he said, exiting the bathroom.

The panties he'd brought were a size too small, but they were new. 
The sweatshirt and pants were obviously hand-me-downs, but they fit
well enough.  Returning to my room, I noticed that my clothes were
gone, but my coat, hair brush, toothbrush, notebook, and shoes were
still here, as was the box of tampons.  I wanted to write in my
notebook, but I didn't have a pen.  A quick search of the room
turned up nothing to write with and only a Bible to read.  Bored, I
opened it up, but one of the room's previous occupants had covered
almost every page with crude drawings of male genitalia and
copulating stick figures. 

I felt like a prisoner.

The metal grate on the window did nothing to dispel this illusion. 
The view through the grimy window was of an alley lined with trash
barrels and the occasional dumpster.  As if on cue, a grey rat poked
its nose from under one of the bins and darted across the slush.

With nothing else to do, I lay down on the lumpy mattress and tried
to rest, but I was too anxious, too nervous to sleep.  There was too
much uncertainty in this situation.  Where was I going to go?  Was
Father Ken going to place me with another foster family?  Orphanage?
 Convent?  I felt like I was about to get swallowed into this
gigantic institution.  I felt powerless.


                                  * * *


The door opened a few hours later.  Father Ken stepped in and sat
down on the edge of the bed.  He looked at me without speaking for a
while. 

"Dinner is about to be served downstairs," he finally said.

"Thank you," I said.  I followed him out of the room.  "Father Ken?"

"Yes, Anne?"

"What if I want to leave?"  We stopped at the top of the stairs and
he turned to me.

"Anne, it's in your best interests to stay.  You're safe here.  You
have a nice warm bed and a bath.  Sister Bernice cooks a pretty good
meal," he said, an earnest expression on his face.

"The front door is always unlocked," he continued.  "You can walk
out any time you want.  But I'd like you to stay, if not for you,
then for me."  Father Ken gave me a long, searching look.

"Okay.  I guess."   His sincerity dispelled any apprehensions I had
in the bathroom earlier.  I was sold.

His expression brightened, and he gave my hand a squeeze.  I
followed him downstairs, back to the dining room where Sister
Bernice had served me breakfast.  There were about a dozen boys
seated at the cafeteria- style tables, along with five or six
priests.  Everyone looked up when Father Ken and I entered the room.
 I took a seat at an empty table, and a minute later Father Ken
returned with a tray of food.  He sat with me and watched me devour
a bowl of chili and two slices of white bread. 

No one spoke the whole time I was there.  Occasionally, one of the 
priests or a few of the boys would glance in my direction.  The boys
would steal a look and then whisper something to the person next to 
them.  None of them were older than fourteen or younger than ten,
and I couldn't help but think about my late stepbrothers.  This only
compounded the awkwardness I felt.

When I had finished my meal, Father Ken took the tray back to the 
kitchen.  He returned a moment later and leaned over to whisper in
my ear.

"Come down to my office in an hour or two, and we'll talk some
more," he said, straightening up and giving my shoulder a gentle
squeeze before leaving the table to talk to some of the other kids.

After dinner I headed back to my room, stopping off at the front
desk to snatch a pencil.  As I headed up the stairs, I noticed one
of the boys and one of the priests heading down the hall and into
one of the rooms.  As he closed the door, the priest, an older
gentleman like the one at the cathedral, gave me a strange look.  As
I sat in bed, writing in my notebook, this look stuck with me.

After writing for a couple of hours, jotting down the events of the
last couple of days, I went downstairs to Father Ken's office.  He
had two rooms, one with a desk and shelves of books, and another
smaller room, sparsely furnished, with just a bed and a small table,
and a bathroom not much bigger than a closet.  The only decoration
was a crucifix and a framed print of some saint with a glowing
yellow halo.  Father Ken was seated at his desk, and he motioned for
me to sit down in a chair across from him.

"Dinner okay?" he asked, looking up from a sheaf of papers.

"Yes, it was fine, thank you."

"You're a very polite young lady," he said.

"Thank you, sir."

"Call me Ken."  He took a sip of amber liquid from a glass on his
desk. 

"Okay, sir...er, Ken."

"I don't know about Maine, but in this state things move pretty
slowly.  It might be a while before we can place you in a good
home." 

"Oh.  I see."

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you need," he said, taking 
another sip.

"Thank you."

"We don't often have girls here, but I'm sure things will work out. 
You'll be one of the boys in no time.  We might have to cut your
hair, though."

"Cut my hair?"

"Just a bit.  Some of the boys come in with head lice.  It's just a 
precaution."

"You're going to shave my head?"  I began to panic.  I loved my long
hair.

"No, no, no.  Just to shoulder length or so.  Is that all right?"

"I guess," I said, even though it wasn't.

"Fine.  We can have one of the sisters do it tomorrow.  There's no 
rush."

We spoke a bit longer, mostly about my family, my mother's death,
and the churches my Catholic stepfather attended, in Florida and
Maine.  After about an hour, Father Ken wished me a good night and I
returned to my room.  As I passed the room where the boy and the
priest had gone earlier, I could hear the squeaking of a bed.  The
kid must have been jerking off.  As I closed my door, I began to
imagine this, picturing the boy laying in bed, his jockey shorts
around his knees, stroking his smooth boycock and squeezing his
hairless balls.  I was momentarily tempted to knock on his door and
offer to take care of his erection for him, but thought better of
it. 

This mental image began to make me horny, but I didn't want to make
my bed squeak.  I thought about taking another bath, but there was
no lock on the door and someone might barge in.  I looked around and
decided to lie on the floor and pleasure myself.  There was a small,
ratty rug covering part of the wooden floor.  I took off my pants
and lay down, rubbing my labia through the tight cotton panties.

Just then I remembered I was wearing a tampon.  I put the pants back
on and went across the hall to the common bathroom.  My flow had
completely stopped, so I took it out and threw it in the
wastebasket.  As I was returning to my  room, I noticed the priest
leaving the boy's room, the one where the bed had been squeaking. 
This was odd, but I was so intent on getting off that I thought
little of it. 

I was laying on the rug, my panties down around my ankles, furiously
frigging my clit when there was a knock on the door.  Quickly, I
pulled up my panties and jumped into my pants, wiping my fingers off
on the leg before opening the door.  It was an older priest I'd
never seen before. 

"Who are you?  Where's Tommy?" he asked.  His breath smelled of
liquor. 

"Who's Tommy?" I asked.

"This is his room," the priest said.

"I thought it was my room," I replied.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Just today."

"I see.  Sorry to bother you."  With that he turned on his heel and 
left.

This all but killed my urge to get off.  I sat down on my bed for a 
while before reaching for the copy of the Bible, the one that had
been defaced.  I turned to a random page of obscene drawings.  A
crudely drawn dick was penetrating what looked like buttocks, and
the drawing was captioned in a child's handwriting: "Fathur Miek"
and "Me".  I suddenly realized what had been going on in the boy's
room, and what the drunken priest wanted with Tommy, in whose room I
was staying.  I wondered if Tommy had drawn this.

I thought about moving the dresser over to block the door before
going to bed, but decided against it.  Still, it took me a while to
drift off to sleep.


                                  * * *


A sharp rap on my door woke me up the next morning.  I got out of
bed to see who it was, but they were gone.  The bathroom was
unoccupied, so I wrapped a towel around me and went to take a
shower.  I was in the middle of rinsing off when someone opened the
door, muttered a quick "Sorry!" and left.  I finished quickly and
went back to my room to dry off.

After breakfast, Sister Bernice took me into one of the bathrooms
and cut my hair.  It wasn't a complete disaster.  The bangs were a
little uneven, but at least my hair was still longish, nearly coming
down to my shoulders in sort of a pageboy cut.  All in all, it was
better than getting head lice.

After she cut my hair, Sister Bernice brought me downstairs to the 
basement, where four small classrooms had been set up.  She escorted
me into one in which four boys my age were seated across from an
older nun behind an ancient wooden desk.

"Sister Josephine, boys, this is Anne," Sister Bernice said, by way
of introductions.

"Good morning, Anne.  Please take a seat," Sister Josephine said. 
With that, Sister Bernice left to begin making lunch.  I sat down in
an empty seat between two boys.  Sister Josephine resumed her
English lesson. 

I kept my eyes and attention on the lesson, but I could feel the
boys' gaze on me, checking me out.  The boy to my right had fair
complexion and blondish  hair, but the one to my left had olive skin
and bore a faint resemblance to Del.  I felt a familiar pang in my
chest, the feeling of loss.  I'd never get to see my stepbrothers
grow up to be men.  I missed them so much.

I was virtually alone with my thoughts that day.  None of the boys
would talk to me, even at lunch, and Sister Josephine didn't call on
me in class.  When we were dismissed that afternoon, I went back to
my room to do my homework.

When I came down for dinner later on, I was greeted with the same
sight as the day before, the boys eating quietly with a few priests
seated among them.  Except for one familiar face, it was a different
group of priests from the night before.  While I was eating, Father
Ken came by to talk to some of them, joking around and laughing with
his colleagues. 

"Anne, come see me in my office after dinner," he said before
leaving. 

"Is anything wrong?"  I asked.

"No, no, not at all.  I found some more clothing you might be able
to wear," he replied.

"Oh, thank you," I said, wishing I could have my own clothes back. 
I wasn't able to pack much when I left Maine, but I did bring along
my favorite skirt and a sweater I really liked, as well as some nice
underwear that Julia had bought me.

I finished my homework after dinner, and after writing in my journal
for a while, I went downstairs to Father Ken's office.  He invited
me inside.  There was a small pile of clothes on a chair.  Father
Ken was stretched out behind his desk, a drink in his hand.  While I
stood across from his desk, he refilled it from a bottle he kept in
a lower drawer.

"Why don't you try these on and see if they fit," he said, taking a
sip. 

"Here?"

"Yes," he said.

Slowly, I unzipped my pants and let them fall, stepping out of them
and pulling off my sweatshirt.  Feeling awkward standing in front of
him in my panties, I quickly reached for the pile of clothes,
picking an item at random.  It was a little pink sundress, made for
a girl no older than ten or eleven.  Tight around the chest, the hem
barely covered my bottom.

"Turn around," he said.

I complied, looking around for a mirror and seeing none.  I supposed
Father Ken would be my mirror.  I struggled out of the dress and
reached into the pile again.  There was a pleated plaid uniform
skirt that was a little tight around the waist but otherwise fit
well.  I felt embarrassed wearing the skirt; growing up in Florida
we'd constantly make fun of the parochial school kids for having to
wear uniforms while we went to school in shorts and pretty skirts
and dresses.  I took it off and put it aside, selecting another item
from the pile of clothes. 

In the end, there were only four items that fit: the plaid skirt, a 
white button-down blouse, another sweatshirt, and my favorite skirt.
 Somehow, my clothes had been thrown into the donation pile.  I
grabbed the skirt, hoping Father Ken wouldn't notice.  He'd been
watching me closely while I tried on clothes, but had turned to
refill his drink. 

"Find anything that fit?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."  I held up the items that I could wear.

"What about that pink dress?"

"It was a little small," I said.

"Nonsense.  It looked fine on you."

"Okay, I guess," I said, taking the little dress out of the pile and
putting it with my new clothes.  I hoped that he never asked me to
wear it.

"Good, good," he said, getting up from his desk.  "Now there's
something else we need to do.  Come."

Father Ken motioned for me to follow him into the small bedroom off
of his office, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the
mattress.  Slowly, I followed him and sat down next to him, dressed
only in my panties.

"I just need to examine you," he said, quietly.  "This won't hurt."

"Okay."

Father Ken looked in my ears, eyes, and mouth, just like a
pediatrician, though I was pretty sure he didn't have any medical
education.  At least there were no medical certificates hanging on
his office walls.  I flinched when he touched my shoulder, expecting
his hands to be cold, but they were warm and sweaty.

"Stand up," he said.  He examined my arms, looking for needle
tracks, I guess, and had me turn around.  He traced my spine and his
hand grazed my bottom, ever so lightly, as if by accident.

"Face me."

His fingers lightly grazed my breasts, making my nipples stand up. 
I could feel a blush spreading across my cheeks, and tried not to
look him in the eye, but I couldn't help but notice his expression,
a combination of hunger and fascination, as if he'd never seen a
girl before. 

"Okay, lie down, Anne."  I lay on my back on his bed and felt him 
tugging at the waistband of my panties.

"These fit okay?" he asked.

"They're a little tight, sir."

"I'll try to find something bigger.  Let's take these off for now."

Father Ken pulled my panties down, slowly, gradually, drawing them
down my thighs and off my legs.  I kept my thighs together,
apprehensive, uncertain of what was going to happen.  Was Father Ken
going to make love to me?  Or was this part of his "examination"? 
He glanced at my discarded panties, as if to make note of the size,
and then placed his hand on my thigh.

"Relax, Anne.  Would you like something to relax?"

"Um, yes, please."  I thought he was going to pour me a drink like
Papi used to do sometimes, a little bit of rum in a glass on a
weekend night before we had a little fun, but Father Ken returned
with a glass of water and a little yellow pill.

"Take this," he said.  He watched me swallow it and wash it down
with some water, taking a sip of his drink at the same time.

"Now lie back and relax.  Let me look at you."  He sat down on the
bed. 

I took a deep breath and let him touch me, cupping my little
breasts, feeling the skin on my belly, prying my thighs apart and
looking at my pussy.  I sighed as the pill began to take effect,
feeling a growing sense of detachment from my body.  I looked up at
the crucifix hanging on the wall over the bed and thought of the
time Julia tied me to her bed, spread-eagle, and made me come so
hard that I passed out cold.  I wondered if Father Ken would like to
tie me up and lick me down there.  His hands were cupping my mons
and I felt his fingers brush my labia.  I wondered if he could tell
I was getting wet thinking about Julia and Jesus and the leather
restraints. 

I felt the bed shaking slightly and looked down.  Father Ken had his
cock out and was jerking it with short, fast strokes.  I reached for
his lap.  I wanted to do that for him.  In my drug-induced haze, I
thought that if I jerked him off I could get my clothes back, maybe
even my money, but he gently brushed my hand away without missing a
beat. 

I felt completely uninhibited, though, and began to play with
myself.  I hadn't come in a couple of days, and the pill Father Ken
had given me only made me hornier.  Shamelessly, I began to tease my
clit, gently kneading my breasts with my other hand.  Father Ken
watched closely, never taking his eyes of me as he jerked off.

My clit felt electric, with the slightest contact sending chills
down my spine and a tingling through my belly.  I circled it with a
fingertip while I watched Father Ken.  He was handsome, youthful
despite a few grey hairs, with clear blue eyes and sharp features,
though his face was a bit slack from drinking.  I thought about
kissing him, feeling his lips against my own, smelling his cologne,
having his hands roam over my body.  Even more than the sight of him
stroking his hardness, the mental image of us making love in his bed
was enough to set me off.  I gasped and arched my back as I
climaxed, a nice, intense orgasm that curled my toes, making me bite
my lips to keep from moaning too loud. 

Father Ken's hand moved over his dick furiously, making the bed bump
against the wall.  Suddenly, he stiffened and let out a deep breath
as he came, his cock spurting its load in three wide arcs of semen,
the first spraying across the bed and hitting me on the chest.  He
kept pumping for a while and then stopped, getting up from the bed
and rearranging his clothes.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said, handing me a towel.  I wanted
to just lay back in his bed and go to sleep, but Father Ken was
already handing me my panties and wiping me off with a corner of the
towel.  I got up on rubbery legs and got dressed, gathered my
clothes, and left.  The last look I had was of Father Ken pouring
himself another drink.  Since he'd come, he hadn't looked me in the
eye once. 

I managed to haul myself upstairs to my room, but though I could
have easily gone to sleep right then and there, I was still a bit
sticky from Father Ken's semen.  I put away my new/old clothes and
went across the hall to the bathroom to take a shower.  By this time
I had figured that a broken pencil jammed between the door and frame
would keep it from opening, so I took a nice hot bath instead of a
quick shower. 

Back in my room afterwards, I still felt the effects of the pill
he'd given me, sleepiness, euphoria, inhibition.  I got into bed
naked and played with myself for a while, though I fell asleep
before I could come again.

The sound of the door opening and a bright shaft of light woke me
up.  I looked over at my window and saw that it was still dark out. 
A silhouette blocked the light from the hall, a slow-moving figure
who was whispering something.

"Tommy?  Tommy?  Are you there?"  It was the drunken priest who had 
knocked on the door the night before.

"Tommy's not here," I replied, but the priest closed the door and 
shuffled over to the bed.

"Tommy?  I'm here, Tommy.  Where are you?"

"He's not here," I repeated, to no avail.

"Tommy?  Where are your hands, Tommy?  Show me your hands."

I pulled my hands from under the blanket and showed them to him.  He
grabbed them and pressed them against his crotch, against his
half-hard penis.  Before I could pull my hands away he had his pants
unzipped and had pulled out his hardening cock.  He wrapped my hands
around his member and urged me to relieve him, moving his hips
slightly so his cock glided between my fingers.  I started to stroke
him quickly, the way Father Ken had touched himself, hoping he'd
come quickly and leave me alone.

"Slow, boy.  You know the way I like it," the drunken cleric
whispered.  I began to stroke him slowly, using both hands to caress
his hardness.  His heavy breathing and the occasional squeaking
bedspring were the only sounds in the room as I pleasured this
confused old man. 

"Good, that's so good, Tommy," he murmured.  I began to use more 
friction, rubbing him harder while still maintaining a slow, steady 
pace.  The priest's breathing got even heavier, and his hips kept
moving against my hands while my fingers glided around his shaft and
over his spongy cockhead.

"Here it comes, boy.  You know what to do," he rasped.  But I didn't
know what to do.  What would Tommy do?  Who was this Tommy, anyway? 
Before any of the answers could come, I felt his cock begin to
twitch.  I improvised, leaning forward into his crotch and taking
the head of his cock into my mouth just as a thin flow of semen
began to dribble from his penis.  He gasped as I swirled my tongue
over his cockhead, licking it clean.  He quickly grew flaccid, and I
released him from my mouth. 

The drunken priest stuffed his soft cock back in his pants.  I
thought that this was it, that he was going to leave, but he began
to probe the bed, pushing his hands under the covers, feeling around
for my thighs. 

"So soft...your skin is so soft, Tommy," he slurred.  He looked
about to topple over, but instead he sat down hard on the edge of
the bed, his hands groping towards my crotch.

"Let me rub your pee pee for you, Tommy, like I used to do," he 
whispered.  I felt my blood turn to ice, uncertain of what would
happen when he found a pussy where he expected a boy's cock.  His
fingers fumbled between my legs, gently, though, and not rough.  The
stiff column of flesh he was seeking wasn't there, and even in the
darkness his disappointment was visible.

"You're not Tommy," he said, sadly, straightening up and snatching
his hands away.  "You're a girl."

I pulled the blankets up to my neck as he stood up, fearing an angry
outburst, maybe a slap.  But he just straightened his clothing and
left the room without a word, quietly closing the door in his way
out. 

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to take in the
weirdness of the last few hours.  My experience in Father Ken's
office had the quality of a dream, disconnected events strung
together with dream logic.  The embarrassment I felt while trying on
clothes in front of him, the way he touched me, the pill, the
crucifix, touching myself in front of him, his semen spilling on me.
 Then there was the old priest, the alcohol on his breath, his
hardness in my hand, the taste of his offering, the way his body
stiffened when he found my cleft.  It was over so quickly, before I
was fully awake. 

And now I was alone with my thoughts, trying to understand what this
all meant.  It was when I remembered the other night, when the
priest took that boy into that room, the room where the bedsprings
squeaked, and all the other priests that would show up for dinner
every night.  This wasn't a shelter; it was a brothel.


                                  * * *


After dinner the next day, I went down to Father Ken's office and 
knocked on his door.  He was seated behind his desk as usual, a
drink in his hand, classical music playing on the radio.

"Anne, I was about to send for you.  I found some more clothes that 
might fit you," he said.

"Thanks," I said, taking a seat across from his desk.  "Could we
talk about something?"

"Sure," he replied.

"It's about last night."  Father Ken paused in mid-sip and put down
his glass.

"About the...examination?"

"No, no.  This happened after that," I said.  Father Ken visibly
relaxed when I said this.  I began to tell him about the elderly
priest who had barged into my room.  I told him everything about the
encounter, even how I took his cock into my mouth and swallowed his
cum.  Father Ken began to look flushed, and he shifted in his seat a
few times. 

"Was it wrong what I did?" I asked.

"No, dear.  It wasn't wrong.  It was an act of Christian kindness."

"Who was he?"

"His name is Father LaRose, Father John LaRose.  He was my parish
priest when I was growing up," Father Ken said.

"Who was Tommy?"  Father Ken's face saddened at the mention of the
boy's name.

"Thomas was one of our more troubled children.  We placed him with a
loving family, but he kept running away.  The last time, about six 
months ago, he was found dead of an overdose not far from here. 
Father John was devastated.  Tommy was one of his favorites."

"Oh, I see," I said.  I began to feel sorry for Father John.  "Could
I ask a favor?"

"What can I do for you, Anne?"

"Is there some way I can get a lock for my door?" I asked.  Jamming
a pencil in the door frame worked in the bathroom, but not in my
room, where countless layers of paint had made the gap too small.

"I understand if you don't want Father John barging in at all hours,
but I'm afraid a lock is out of the question.  A matter of policy,
you see." 

"I see."

"I will have a talk with him, perhaps make your floor off-limits to
him, especially when he's been drink...er, when it's late."

"Okay, thanks.  I just got scared when he woke me up."

"I understand completely.  Is there anything else?"

"Well..."

"Tell me," he urged.

"Could you give me another...examination?"

Father Ken nearly choked on his drink.  I guess he wasn't expecting 
that.  We hadn't talked about that at all, and I could tell that he 
wasn't sure about how I felt about his touching me and jerking off
in my presence.  For my part, I was horny as hell, and Father Ken
seemed like he'd gladly lend a hand or more.  I'd thought about
getting to know one of the boys better, but none of them would talk
to me yet.  Besides, Father Ken was a handsome man, a nice man.  I
wanted to pleasure him, please him.

"Yes, we can do that.  Certainly."  Father Ken had barely recovered
his composure.  "Tell you what: why don't you try some of these
clothes on first,  okay?"

"Okay," I said.

I began to remove my blouse, skirt, and shoes, stripping down to my 
panties.  Unlike the night before, I didn't hesitate or show
reluctance.  I was unsure of what was happening then, uncomfortable
to show myself to Father Ken.  But after our little "examination", I
knew where I stood, where this was going.  I even felt like I had a
bit of control over the situation.

On top of the pile of clothes was another package of girls' panties,
this time closer to my size.  I skinned off the tight pair I was 
wearing, giving Father Ken a good look at my bare bottom as I bent
over to pull up a new pair.  Like the others he'd given me, they
were virginal white cotton with a little rosebud pattern, but these
were bikini-cut instead of briefs.  The others made me feel like a
ten-year- old girl.

In the pile of clothes was a plaid uniform jumper that fit pretty
well, a couple of long skirts that were too big but could be easily
altered, and another skimpy sundress.  Like the one Father Ken gave
me last night, it barely covered my bottom.  I could tell he liked
it when I modeled it for him, the way his eyes were locked on me.  I
turned around to pick up a discarded item, giving him a quick flash
of my panties, and was rewarded with the sound of Father Ken drawing
a quick breath. 

After trying everything on, including my favorite sweater, which had
somehow found its way into the donation pile, I stripped down to my 
panties again and sat on the corner of Father Ken's desk.

"Could I have another pill, please?  To relax, I mean."  Father Ken 
smiled and opened his desk, producing an orange prescription bottle.
 He opened it and shook out a pair of pills, giving one to me and
taking the other, washing it down with a sip of his drink.  I
reached for his glass to take the pill, expecting something sweet
and smooth like rum.  Instead, I took a gulp of something harsher,
harder, stronger, making my eyes water.

"Bourbon," Father Ken said.  I'd had that before, but always with
ice or a mixer.  I coughed a few times, and Father Ken fetched me a
glass of water.  I drained the glass and then we went into his small
bedroom.  He sat down on his bed and I stood before him, tingling
with anticipation. 

"Father Ken?"

"Yes, Anne?"

"My breasts feel funny.  Will you kiss them?"

Without replying, he leaned closer to my heaving chest.  I could
feel his breath caress my nipples before his lips made contact,
followed by the delicious feeling of his tongue circling each nipple
as he sucked them into his mouth.  I sighed and ran my hands over
his back, through his hair.  Then I began unbuttoning his black
shirt, starting at the starched white Roman collar that encircled
his neck. 

Father Ken stood up and pulled out his shirttails while I unbuckled
his belt and undid his trousers.  In a moment he was down to his
undershirt, boxers, black socks, and a small gold crucifix that hung
from a fine chain around his neck.  He took off his shirt and
shorts, and sat down again to take off his socks.  Finally, he was
naked, save for the cross.  He wasn't as hairy as I expected, just a
sparse thatch on his chest and arms, not nearly as much as Ramon had
on his body.  Below a slightly paunchy belly, his cock pointed
skyward, hard and twitching.  He leaned in and continued sucking my
nipples, his hands roaming over the backs of my thighs and my
bottom.  I closed my eyes and savored the feeling of his caresses.

"All better?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Yes, thank you."

"Lay down so I can examine you," he said, keeping up the medical 
pretense even though we both knew it was a sham.  I stretched out on
his bed, my legs slightly apart, the pill he'd given me making me
feel lightheaded.  Father Ken began to gently stroke my thighs,
grazing the crotch of my panties with a couple of fingers, making me
shiver with delight and anticipation.

"Let's get these off," Father Ken said, tugging at my panties.  I
lifted my bottom off the bed to help, and he slid them down my
thighs and off my legs, letting them fall to the floor next to the
bed.  He began to stroke my belly, moving his hand lower and lower
until he was cupping my mons, one of his fingers lightly resting on
my lips.  I reached down and pushed his finger inside me, gasping as
his digit penetrated my pussy.  I was very wet, and my clit was
tingling from the contact with his finger.  Slowly, I began to hump
his hand, making the bed softly squeak with my rhythm.

Father Ken began to stroke himself, and like the night before, I
reached out for his hardness.  This time he let me touch him, let me
stroke him, long slow strokes like I'd done with Father John's
penis.  I wanted him to last so I could at least suck him or maybe
get laid properly. 

Father Ken's finger began to saw in and out of my snatch while I
played with my clit, circling it with a wet fingertip.  The bed
began to make more noises of protest, but we ignored it, lost in our
pleasure.  I felt my climax begin to build slowly, steadily, pushing
through the effects of the pill I'd taken.  I tried to keep stroking
Father Ken's cock, but it was distracting me from my mounting
pleasure.  He slipped another finger inside me and began to diddle
me faster, making me catch my breath a few times as the tingling
down there began to spread throughout my body.

Suddenly it hit me, an intense orgasm that reduced me to a quivering
mass of jelly, making my limbs tense and relax as endless waves of 
pleasure washed over me.  I felt my pussy tighten around his fingers
and he stopped banging my little box, withdrawing his digits and
wiping them on the sheet.  I gave my clit one last swirl, gasping as
the last waves of my climax receded like the tide.  I let out a deep
breath and relaxed, hoping that I hadn't made too much noise.

"Feel better?" he asked.  I sat up on Father Ken's bed and put my
arms around his neck, hugging him.  He held me in his arms, his
hands hesitating as if he didn't know how to hold me, finally
resting them on my hips.  I began to wonder if this was awkward for
him, whether he'd really had any experience with a girl at all.  I
gently kissed his neck and looked up at him.

"Your turn," I said.  "Lay back on the bed."

"You're going to examine me?" he asked with a laugh.

"You'll love this.  It's an oral exam."  Father Ken smiled and
stretched out next to me.  I guided his thighs apart and curled up
between them, getting my first close-up look at his cock and balls. 
His penis wasn't very long, but it was thick, with his foreskin
making it look even thicker.  I pulled the skin back and planted a
gentle kiss on the fat purple head, making Father Ken gasp with
surprise. 

My pussy was still throbbing from his fingerfucking, and I had half
a mind to straddle him and guide his cock inside me, but I didn't
want to rush things.  Instead, I began to slowly suck him, gently
cupping his balls with my hands.  As I began to establish a rhythm,
Father Ken's hips began to move.  I looked up over his heaving chest
and saw his eyes were closed, his mouth was open, a slack expression
on his face.  It was as much a product of pills and alcohol as it
was from my lips and tongue, and I wondered if he'd gone to sleep on
me. 

A stifled gasp as I swirled my tongue over his slick shaft told me 
otherwise.  I began to suck him harder, speeding up my rhythm and 
matching each bob of my head with my hand, sliding his foreskin up
and down over his hard cock.  His member twitched when I probed
between his cheeks with a finger, and his hips began to move faster,
matching my speed.  I released him from my mouth and licked his tool
up one side and down another, giving my jaw a brief respite before
parting my lips again.  I knew he was getting close; I could taste a
drop of sticky, salty precum.

It was time for his release.  I worked my tongue over his cockhead
while quickly jerking his cock the way he'd done the night before. 
He moaned and I felt his glans begin to flare in my mouth, his balls
twitching in my hand, and suddenly he began to spurt his seed,
filling my mouth with his hot offering.  I swallowed his semen
greedily, hungrily, letting only the merest drop escape my lips and
drip down his glistening rod.  He let out a deep breath as the flow
of cum began to wane, his penis softening between my lips.  After
cleaning him off with my tongue, I gave his cock another tender
kiss, gently laying it down atop his now- empty balls.  I scooted up
on the bed and lay next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. 
Father Ken turned his head and softly kissed my forehead.

We lay together for a while, like lovers do, his legs intertwined
with mine, his hand caressing my back.  I ran my fingers over his
chest, idly toying with the gold crucifix and listening to his
steady, slow breathing.  His caresses slowed and stopped, but it
wasn't until he started snoring that I realized he was asleep.  I
carefully extricated myself from his embrace and climbed out of his
bed. 

After getting dressed and folding the clothes I was going to take, I
sat behind Father Ken's desk for a while, taking small sips of his
drink to wash down the taste of his semen.  One of the desk drawers
was slightly ajar, and I could see the bottle of pills.  Reassured
by the sound of Father Ken's snoring in the next room, I carefully
opened the drawer, trying not to make a sound, and pulled out the
orange plastic container.  There were plenty of pills -- the label
read "Valium" -- and I spilled out about a half-dozen, sure that he
wouldn't notice them missing. 

Back in my room, I split one of the pills in half and took it,
laying in bed and enjoying the feeling of relaxation that spread
through my body.  I thought about writing in my journal, but my
limbs were like lead.  I could have drifted off to sleep right then,
but I had to go to the bathroom first.

There was someone in the bathroom across the hall, so I walked down
to the second floor.  It was more of a trot, actually, as I really
had to go.  The door to the second floor bathroom was closed, but
there was no answer when I knocked.  I opened the door, hiked up my
skirt, pulled down my panties, sat down on the toilet, and began to
pee. 

I didn't notice the boy in the bathtub until I was about to get up
and wipe myself.  He was young, maybe eleven or twelve, with fair
skin, short reddish-blond hair, and a freckled face.  Cute as a
button, his mouth was open in astonishment and his hazel eyes were
as wide as dinner plates.

"Um, hi.  I'm Annie," I said, not really knowing what else to say.

"Hi," he croaked.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Billy."

"Well, Billy.  I'm sorry I barged in on you, but I really had to go,
you know?  Now I've got to wipe myself.  I'd ask you not to watch,
but I know you're curious.  You are curious about how I'm put
together down there, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well you can watch if you'd like, but I'd prefer that you didn't."

"Um, okay," he said.  He turned his head towards the wall, but I
could see his eyes were still glued on me.  I daubed myself with
some toilet paper, flushed, and pulled my panties back up, letting
my skirt fall back around my thighs.  I had my towel and toothbrush
with me and was about to wash my face and brush, but instead I
jammed the end of the toothbrush between the door and frame, and
went over to the tub, dipping my fingers in the soapy water.

"It's nice and warm, Billy.  Would you mind if I joined you?"

"Um, okay," he muttered again.

The water was warm, though I hoped it wasn't because Billy was
peeing in the bath water.  Even so, I had a head full of Valium and
a nice hot bath sounded like a good idea.  Having some company was
even better.  This time I let Billy watch as I got undressed.  As I
slowly slid naked into the bath, his eyes were fixed on a spot
between my legs, tracking my pussy until it disappeared beneath the
water, at which point his gaze moved up to my breasts and stopped
there. 

"Billy?  Billy?"  I had a bit of trouble getting his attention.

"Yes?"

"Would you please pass me the soap?"

"Here."

"Thank you."  I began to lather my breasts, slowly caressing them
with the slippery bar of soap.  I could sort of make out Billy's
hand moving between his legs beneath the foamy water.  His other
hand was draped along the edge of the tub.  I took it and guided it
to my soapy breasts, letting him feel them.  He began to squeeze my
little tit. 

"Gently, Billy.  Girls like it when you're gentle," I said.  Billy's
squeeze became a gentle caress, and he traced the line below my
budding breast with his fingertip.  Then he began to trace a circle
around my nipple.

"Yes, like that.  Just like that," I whispered.  As his finger
circled my slick nipple, I began to trace a circle around my clit
with my own soapy finger.  My other hand was below the water, slowly
moving up Billy's smooth thigh.  I could feel his hand moving,
jerking his young boycock.  Beneath that hung a small, slack pair of
hairless balls.  Billy let out a small gasp when I began to fondle
them. 

"Let me do that for you," I said.  "Why don't you soap up my tits
some more, okay?"  Billy nodded eagerly, taking his hand off of his
stiff pecker so he could lather my breasts with both hands.  As he
fondled my soapy tits, I took his smooth shaft in my hand and began
to stroke him.  His boycock was just a few inches long, circumcised,
and as hard as a bar of iron.  Billy's young cock twitched as my
fingers danced over his shaft.

"Do you like that?" I asked.  Billy nodded and smiled.  I took the
soap from him and lathered up my hands, slicking up my fingers for
the benefit of his cock and my clit.  His slim hips rose off the
bottom of the tub to meet my fingers.  I thought about trying to
straddle him and stuff his hard little cock inside me, but I'd lost
my diaphragm while I was living at the foster home, and I didn't
have any condoms.  Billy might not be ejaculating yet, but I
couldn't take a chance here.  Even a little drop would be enough.

"Get up on your knees.  Let me finish you off," I said.  Billy got
up, a curious expression on his face.  I gathered my hair in a loose
ponytail with my hand, keeping it out of the soapy water.

"Hold my hair for me, will you?"  Billy rinsed the soap off of his
hands and held my hair back as I leaned into his crotch.  I heard
him let out another little gasp as my lips made contact with his
hard boycock.  It still tasted a bit soapy, but I didn't mind.  The
cool bathroom air had made his balls contract into a pruny little
package.  I gently squeezed them as my mouth sunk lower on his
smooth penis. 

Lathering my hands with the soap on my breasts, I began to caress 
Billy's firm young bottom as I sucked him, feeling his cheeks
tighten as I swirled my tongue over his hard shaft.  His heavy
breathing and the way his cock twitched in my mouth told me that he
was close to his release.  I squeezed his little buns and heard him
gasp once again as he came, a small hot drop of semen oozing from
the head of his dick.  He shuddered as I gave him one last suck
before releasing his still-hard penis from my mouth.  Billy sighed
and sat back down in the tub. 

"Did you like that?" I asked him as I rinsed off my breasts.  Billy 
grinned.  The taste of his cum lingered on my lips; I was glad I
didn't try to fuck him without a condom or something.  I thought
about showing Billy how to fingerbang me, but that would take a
little too much time.  Even with the toothbrush jamming the door
closed, I feared getting caught by someone.  Besides, the water was
beginning to get cold.  I could finish myself off in bed.

I gave Billy a kiss on his freckled forehead and rinsed myself off. 
We got out of the tub together, and I dried him off with his towel. 
I remember doing this for Paco after we had made love in the shower,
and I felt that familiar pang of loss, albeit dulled by the effects
of the tranquilizers.  I helped Billy into his tattered bathrobe and
had him go before I did so no one would see us exit the bathroom
together.  Giving him a gentle pat on the bottom, I closed the door
and spent a few more minutes in the bathroom, brushing my teeth and
washing my face. 

Back in my room, I lay in bed thinking of Billy and Father Ken,
taking me at the same time, the priest slowly fucking me from behind
while the young boy knelt before me and offered his smooth boycock
for me to suck.  I longed for one of my toys, a vibrator or a dildo,
but had to content myself with my fingers as I brought myself off. 
After I came, I thought I heard footsteps in the hall outside my
room, but I was too tired and spent to go looking out there.  I was
asleep before I even closed my eyes.

 
                                  * * * 
 

(c) 2003  Anais Ninja  anais_ninja@hotmail.com 
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anais_ninja/index.html

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+