Mr. Wallace and Me Pt. 13-15

"She lay back, breathing hard, her blonde hair all over her face, her arms on either side of her head as I lay on top of her after coming inside her. Her tight pussy felt so good on my cock. When I finally took it out of her, she covered her face with her hands. She had taken a vow to be faithful. But she knew her husband could never satisfy her now that she knew what sex really was. About nine months later, she gave birth."

His strokes grew more powerful, filling me up and making my earrings fly back and forth. His rough hands devoured my bare back and shoulders, his teeth were on my neck, careful not to leave a mark that the policeman might detect. I despised him.

"She ... she should have reported you to the Diocese," I said, gasping as his thick penis plunged up into me, sapping my resistance.

"I'm sure she thought about it," he said, sucking on my neck and giving me the chills, "but she never did. I didn't see her for more than a year. Then, about six months after she had her baby, she came back here. She told me she hated me. She stood there trembling, and I could tell she hated herself when I grabbed her and kissed her. She was crying because she knew she needed a thick cock instead of that puny thing her husband would stick in her.

"Now, every three or four months for the last 20 years, she stays late after Mass, comes here to suck the only cock besides her husband's she's ever had in her mouth and begs me to fuck her, which I do gladly because she's still slender, blonde and beautiful. She loves her husband and son, but she needs a thick cock attached to someone who won't ever reveal her secret."

Father Kincaid's right hand went to my slender penis while his left moved behind my head, holding it in place as his mouth joined mine, sucking the air from my lungs as his thick cock thrust into my slim, undulating body. I was edging closer and closer to an orgasm when he leaned back and smiled.

"You know, Billy, you remind me a lot of her," he said. "Same blonde hair, same slender, sexy body, same skin I love to touch."

He paused and smiled slyly at me.

"Even the same Chantelle panties."

Through my haze and sexual buildup, I thought about what he just said. I had worn Chantelle panties today. I had borrowed them from ...

... MOM!

NO! NO! IT CAN'T ... IT CAN'T BE!

MOM? My sweet mother was ... that girl?

Father Kincaid's huge, age-spotted hands grasped my shoulders and made them shimmy girlishly as I started to feel sick to my stomach. His thick cock moved methodically up and down inside me as I started to cry. He kissed my lips while I gagged.

"You kiss alike," he said calmly. "You even suck my cock like your mother."

I tried without success to dispel the image of Mom sucking the cock that was impaling me right now. Then, the horrible thought occurred to me. through my tears.

Was Father Kincaid ... MY father?

My mind was swimming. The man I called my dad all these years might not really be responsible for my birth? My wonderful mother sucking Father Kincaid's cock and getting fucked by that horrible old man all these years was too awful to contemplate.

And that same dick was fucking me right now after I had sucked it to hardness. That same horrid priest's hands were caressing my body.

My voice tremulous, my body shaking, I asked the question while absorbing his pounding cock.

"Are you ... are you ... my father?"

Father Kincaid leaned back and smiled, the wrinkles on his face becoming more pronounced. His penis continuing its methodical assault inside me, he ran his massive hands leisurely over my bare back and shoulders over and over again, prolonging my agony. His lips closed in on mine, but I tore my mouth away.

"Damn it," I cried. "Are you my father or not?"

Father Kincaid felt my breasts through my gown, his thumb and middle finger squeezing my small nipples. My arms behind me, there was nothing I could do as he pinched both nipples harder and harder, pulling me toward him. His lips were soon on mine. This time, I didn't resist, and his ancient tongue was soon in my mouth, moving in rhythm with the thrusts of his cock as my body went limp.

"That's better," he said, slowly, arrogantly breaking the kiss and moving his hands from my breasts to my back.

"Am I your father?" he said with a whimsical smile. "I might be. In fact, I thought I was until I saw that puny little dick of yours. My guess would be that your old man got lucky with your mother around the time I fucked her for the first time."

I looked at him aghast.

"But ... even if there is a chance," I said incredulously, "even if there's a chance that I'm your son ... you could do ... this? Do this ... to me?"

The old priest laughed.

"Don't be naive, Billy," he said. "I've known for a long time that I'm going to hell. And besides, have you looked in a mirror lately? You're gorgeous."

The room was spinning all around me. Nothing in my whole life made any sense anymore. My mother ... my father ... it wasn't so long ago that I was a horny teenage boy with no feminine thoughts whatsoever ... and now ... and now ...?

My mind surrendered to the situation, going blank as Father Kincaid's cock increased its pounding intensity. I was only somewhat cognizant of his rough hands moving all over my bare skin, his tongue doing what it pleased in my unresisting mouth. Everything was a blur. I was vaguely aware when I felt him thrust up into me savagely and cry out the same way he had when he took me in his office.

"Hail Mary, full of grace," he shouted, "Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus!"

His movements ceased after a while and his shrinking cock eased out of my bottom. His cum was no doubt inside me. My father's cum? I couldn't know for sure as I listlessly watched as the old man, his face all flushed, lay back and tried to recover from his orgasm. I felt dizzy and disoriented. I guess I leaned back. Without Father Kincaid's hands to hold me up, I fell backwards off the chair onto the carpet.

My wrists handcuffed behind me, I lay there awkwardly, my gown up to my hips, looking like a helpless fawn.

Father Kincaid rose wearily from the big chair, stood over me and laughed.

The old bastard laughed at me. Not that I cared very much. I didn't care about anything. His right hand went to my neck as he moved closer.

"Clean this up," he said.

Mindlessly, I took his glistening cock into my mouth, sucking and licking as if in a trance until he pulled me away by my neck.

Slowly, he put his cassock back on, adjusted his collar and ran his hands through his thinning gray hair while I lay back, unable to get up. Finally, he helped me to my feet and moved the gown down my legs. His hands went over my curvy torso several times, straightening the fabric. He had been sweating, and he smelled awful. I stood there helplessly, uninterested in what was going on around me.

"The officer will be back soon," he said, reaching for my little purse and opening it.. "Your lipstick could use a little touching up."

Father Kincaid carefully applied the lipstick to my lips, then put it back into the purse. He looked at me critically, then put his huge hands around my waist, pulled my unresisting body to him and kissed me.

"Your lipstick was already compromised by your kissing that old man at the wedding," he said, still holding my waist. "Now it looks like it did when the officer left. Then he kissed me again as I melded into his body.

"The first kiss was for Officer Timothy's benefit," he said, wiping the lipstick off his lips with a handkerchief. "The second one was for me."

Father Kincaid went to a bookcase, took out a Bible and sat back down on his chair. I stood there in my high heels, my mind and face a blank. About 10 minutes later, there was a knock on the door, and the police officer walked in.

End of Part 13. (To be continued.)

Part 14:

Father Kincaid looked up from his Bible as I stood there, my wrists restrained behind me by the handcuffs over my long, white gloves, my gorgeous gown revealing so much of my bare skin, my earrings jingling gently, my mind a maze of thoughts. This horrible, old priest whom I hated more than anyone I had ever met had taken me, robbed me of my resistance, my dignity. His thick, old cock had spewed its sperm in my bottom and I had tasted it in my mouth. His gnarled, spotted, old hands had been all over my young, smooth body over and over again. His tongue had been in my mouth ... and I had surrendered to him and even kissed him back.

And Mom!

Was it true that she had been unfaithful to Dad? That Dad was as poorly endowed as I am? That my sweet, lovely mother stays after church and sucks Father Kincaid's ugly, thick cock? That she debases herself with this horny, gnarly priest, coming back again and again for so many years so he can fuck her, kiss her, rub his vile hands all over her?

How could Mom have let Father Kincaid baptize me after ... after ...? Was Father Kincaid my father? Had I just been fucked by my father? Had I just been kissing my father and sucking his cock?

Now, I just stood there in my gown, barely cognizant of the conversation between the officer and Father Kincaid.

"Father, you're saying this young lady has had a religious experience ... in an hour and a half? I don't believe it. Look at her, she's beautiful, sure, but she's not even listening to a word you're saying. You have to press charges. She stole from you. I've heard you many times in church, father. 'Thou shalt not steal.' What about that, father?"

Father Kincaid sat back contentedly and tapped on his Bible.

"The good book also preaches mercy, Timothy, and redemption. I believe the young lady has seen the light."

"But Father ..."

"My mind is made up, Timothy."

"Father, you know that I don't need you to testify. I saw your cross in the young lady's purse," the officer said. "I have just cause on my own to arrest her. But the case would be a whole lot stronger with your testimony."

Father Kincaid smiled, more of a smirk than anything else as his eyes looked me up and down.

"Timothy, the girl comes from a good family," he said. "I know her mother ... quite well. Perhaps I shall have mother and daughter in for some counseling ... at the same time."

I blankly looked at the grinning priest and shuddered, a chill going down my bare shoulders and back. The evil priest was imagining a threesome with Mom and me!

"All right, Father, if your mind is made up," said the officer, looking at me and shaking his head in disgust. "I still think there's a right and a wrong, and this girl should be in jail, but I'll take her back to her car."

Father Kincaid gave me a knowing look at the officer wrapped my shawl over my shoulders and picked up my purse.

"I've got the key to the handcuffs in my squad car, Father," the officer said. "You should get some sleep. You look like you've had a long day."

"Thank you, Timothy, you're a good man and a good cop," said Father Kincaid. "I'll see you and the family in church this Sunday. And Billie, I'm sure I'll be seeing you again ... soon."

Even with my hazy brain, I could still detect Father Kincaid's smug leer as he undressed me with his eyes one more time as the officer led me out the door into the cold, dark night.

We walked in silence, both the officer's hands making sure the shawl stayed on on my shoulders and back. My mind was totally numb as we reached the police car. I could see the florid face of the 50-something policeman and his breath cloud in the cold air as he opened the back door to the car and guided me inside. My shawl fell away as I shimmied to sit with the handcuffs still holding my wrists behind me. If I had been thinking more clearly, I probably would have been concerned when the policeman sidled in next to me and closed the car door.

"You may have fooled the old priest," he said, his hands fumbling at his waist in the darkness of the car as he momentarily rose up a few inches. "But you don't fool me for a minute, girly. You're nothing but a petty criminal."

His right hand grabbed the back of my neck and roughly forced my face down onto his bare lap. In the dark, I could barely see his pants and gun belt down on his calves just before my face made contact with his crotch.

"Put that cock into your mouth, girly," he ordered, his steely grip on the back of my neck.

I almost laughed.

"Of course," I thought through my haze. "A law-and-order policeman, a churchgoing family man, just another horny, old hypocrite who wants his cock sucked."

I opened my mouth and took his slender, barely erect penis into it, sucking it mechanically, without passion or revulsion. My willpower had been sapped by my ordeal with Father Kincaid, my thoughts haunted by what I had been told by the evil priest, and what he had done to me.

The officer's hands moved to my bare back and shoulders, caressing them over and over as I moved up and down on his smelly prick.

"You're so damned beautiful. Your skin feels so fucking good," he said, his rough hands squeezing my shoulders. "My wife won't do this for me, and besides, she doesn't have your body."

He lay his head back and moaned, both his hands moving down my back down to my narrow waist as, my mind an almost complete blank, I sucked on his growing half-century-old organ. After several minutes, he moved my legs up onto the car seat, my dress skirt riding up. His right hand moved up the back of my slender thighs until he felt my bare bottom in the dark.

"Oh yes," he said as his rough hands ran over my smooth, tight bottom. "So much better than my wife's fat ass."

My dignity and self-respect drained from me, I continued sucking the cop, my little penis rubbing against the fabric of the car seat. My mind was a melancholy blur, and then it happened.

THWACK!

What?

THWACK! THWACK!

The bastard spanked me!

THWACK! Harder this time. My mind was wide awake now. I pulled my head off his prick and cried out.

"OW! Don't do that!" I cried. "That hurts!"

THWACK!

"It's supposed to hurt, girlie," he said. "Now, put that cock back into your mouth like a good girl."

I was wide awake now, and my little bottom was tingling.

THWACK! THWACK!

I was writhing now, twisting my slender body, my arms helplessly behind me. I couldn't see anything in the dark car.

THWACK!

"Please ... don't do that," I moaned, tears in my eyes.

But the old cop was getting more turned on. His left hand crossed to the back of my neck, two fingers moving under my halter top, forcing my head back down. I took his cock into my mouth, hoping that he would stop spanking me. His right hand gently caressed my reddened, pulsating bottom where he had hit me.

I sighed around his cock in my mouth, wanting this all to be over. I didn't know what he would do if he found out I wasn't a girl.

THWACK!

That was the hardest spank yet.

THWACK!

THWACK!

THWACK!

I felt so helpless, so in the power of another man who could do what he wanted with me.

THWACK!

It really didn't hurt anymore. It stung, but felt kind of ... erotic.

"Suck that prick, you beautiful cocksucker," he ordered.

I did what he wanted, this time moaning, not just in pain, but ... desire.

THWACK!

"Mmmmm," I murmured, sucking his old cock harder. My little penis was hard, rubbing against the car seat. The cop's left hand, no longer needed to keep my mouth on his prick, was rubbing my bare back as I writhed sensually.

I waited for the next slap ... and waited ...

I wanted it. I needed it.

"Please?" I whimpered, pausing at the top of his foreskin.

The cop's voice was cruel and cold.

"Please ... what?"

"Please ... spank me again ... one more time ... Please?"

I had lost all dignity, but I was past caring. The cop was getting close to cumming ... and so was I. I couldn't see him in the dark, even if I was facing him, but I was sure he was smiling. His voice was mocking.

"Please spank me again one more time, please ... what?"

I was crying now, out of frustration and shame.

"Please spank me again one more time, please ... sir."

THWACK!

With that, I took the old man's prick deep into my throat as my little penis came all over the car seat. I gagged and choked as the officer's tart cum flooded my little mouth. There was so much milky cum. I let it ooze out of my mouth. He grabbed my bare shoulders with both his hands and bent over to kiss and bite my back and neck. He was breathing very hard now and making horrid grunts and other noises, totally enveloped in his own pleasure as his cock ejaculated one last bit of sperm onto my tongue. Finally, he breathed out and spoke.

"Ahhhhh ... I needed that. Now, you be a good girl and lick up all my cum, little lady," he said.

As I did what he wanted, he almost gentlemanly placed my skirt gently back over my throbbing bottom.

Finally, he pulled my torso up to a sitting position and put his left arm around my bare shoulders. My bottom stung.

"What happened to your panties, girlie?" he asked.

I didn't answer. I didn't think he would believe me if I told him they were in Father Kincaid's drawer, probably joining several pair of my mother's.

"You're still an arrogant bitch," he said, getting out of the car and pulling me out and onto my feet, my dress covering my sore bottom. He threw my shawl and purse at my feet, pulled up his pants, dug into a pocket and removed the key to the handcuffs that had been there all along. He unlocked the cuffs, and my arms were finally free.

"I should just run you in and have you spend some time in jail," he said self-righteously, "but give me a kiss and I'll let you go."

The arrogant jerk had insulted me all night, claimed to be a religious family man, spanked me and made me suck his cock. And now, his hands around my tight waist, he wanted me to kiss him in the dark church parking lot.

I didn't see where I had much choice. He pulled me to him, and not knowing what to do with my arms, I crossed them around his neck as he kissed me. His rough hands migrated to my bare back as his tongue explored my young mouth.

After a long, wet kiss, then another one, he released me.

"You behave yourself, young lady," he said with a leer, giving a final swat at my now-clothed bottom as I turned toward my mom's car, "or I'll be seeing you again ... soon."

And then, he hopped back into his squad car and drove off. I wondered what he would think whenever it was he discovered my cum in the back seat.

Meanwhile, I was alone in the dark, cold church parking lot. Goosebumps on my bare arms and shoulders, I looked up, and there in a lighted third-floor window of the rectory, I saw the smiling face of Father Kincaid sipping a glass of wine. He had obviously seen the officer kiss me and me return the kiss. He could probably surmise what had occurred in the police car.

I froze in surprise and shame. The priest's smile grew broader, and he raised his wine glass in a mock salute.

I felt like I was going to pass out. I reached down for my shawl and purse, and managed to take out the car keys. I opened the door, and before entering the car, couldn't resist looking back at the window. The room was dark. I couldn't see Father Kincaid anymore.

But I sensed he was still there ... looking at me.

I got into my mom's car, winced as my tender bottom settled into the seat, turned the key and drove away.

End of Part 14. (To be continued.)

Part 15:

The car was cold, needing some time before the heater would warm things up inside. My eyes moist, I looked at the traffic lights in a dull, glassy manner, the memories of this night more than any 18-year-old should have to process. It had all gone according to plan ... until I returned to the church parking lot and the clutches of that sinister Father Kincaid. I could never look at Mom, or for that matter, Dad, the same way again. It was probably a good thing that Mr. Drummond had invited me to move to Chicago, but are more nights like this the fate I am walking into? Was it going to be worth changing my body with hormones and dressing as a woman full-time, only to be taken advantage of by the mysterious client Mr. Drummond wants me to meet and who knows other men?