The minister's family

CHAPTER ONE

Reverend Corman was exhausted; it had been a very wearing day. He could still hear his wife moving around in the kitchen. Then she walked into the bedroom and snapped the light on and unzipped her housedress and let it fall to her ankles, bending to pick up the modest garment at her feet, and he saw the thin nylon strip of her panties tighten snugly between her firm full thighs, slipping tauntingly into the crease between her buttocks, catching there as she straightened up. The tall beauty walked across the room towards the closet, the dress folded over her arm, her smoothly rounded asscheeks quivering voluptuously.

Reverend Corman gaped at her, his mouth open. He'd never seen his wife like this. She was a modest prudish woman, embarrassed to undress in front of him even after fourteen years of marriage. And now she turned around, as quietly as before, slipping the straps of her brassiere down off her shoulders, unhooking the clasps at the back, sliding it off, so that her full, resilient breasts fell free. Just as nonchalantly, as gracefully as much at ease, she slipped her panties down over her firm quivering thighs. She stood before him for a moment, and he thought he had never seen anything quite so beautiful. The sight of her magnificent breasts, the breath-taking contours of her body, even the little triangle of golden hair at the base of her smooth white belly sent little shivers of joy through him, set his loins on fire.

Julie stood with her long legs spread apart, her head and shoulders pulled back, her hands knuckled provocatively on her proud, flaring hips. She was smiling at him with her mouth parted, her teeth slightly bared, the tip of her quivering pink tongue showing. The wet, petal-like, hair-lined lips of her cunt were presented to his eyes like a pagan virgin on a sacrificial altar, waiting for a huge, plunging weapon to stab into her.

The golden triangular bush of her sparse pubic triangle glistened lewdly in the artificial light of the bedroom. Her high, perfectly rounded breasts, startling alabaster white against the deep tan of her other parts, jutted out like two ruby-crested, snow-capped mountain peaks, waiting to be climbed. Her legs, so slender, so satiny smooth-looking at their inner thighs, were moist with the warm flowing juices of her passion-flowered cuntal mouth.

"Bradley?" she asked, "Do you like what you see?"

"Julie…" her name choked past the minister's swollen throat, but that was all. He couldn't say anything else. He could only stare at her loveliness, at her completely lewd, wanton pose and his maddeningly hammering cock began to assert its mastery over the mind and take control of his body.

Slowly, slowly, his voluptuously naked blonde wife lifted her hands, her eyes fastened on his, and began to slide her palms up and down, up and down, along her silky sides from the outer swells of her ripely straining breasts to her flanks. Brazenly, she cupped the firm white mounds of her breasts, kneading them lightly, pushing them out toward him as if presenting him with two forbidden but delicious gifts of flesh.

Then, her hands were stroking her taut little belly, moving down ever so slowly until the tips of her fingernails were just touching the fleece of her inviting pubic triangle. She held that pose for a long moment, thumbs pressing against her slender, sculptured sides, fingers splayed obscenely across her naked belly.

The young minister stood as if transfixed, unable to move, unable to speak, captured totally and completely by the strange, fascinating allure of this wildly seductive woman who was his wife. His frantically jerking penis seemed to be screaming with his ever-increasing arousal.

Slowly, Julie's hands began to move again, the fingertips dipping lower through her softly curling pubic hair, blazing a path toward the narrow pink slit up between her outspread legs. When she reached it, she placed the thumb and forefinger of her left hand on either side of the wetly glistening pussy lips and spread them slowly apart, revealing the trembling red bud of her erect little clitoris to Brad's lust-ridden gaze.

With her outstretched right forefinger, then, she traced down, down, until the tip came in contact with the miniature phallus. She began to stroke it, titillating it back and forth, round and round, sending more rivulets of her lubrication trailing down her inner thighs. And while she stroked her clitoris, rubbing her finger in a maddening cadence along the gaping crevice of her wet, visibly throbbing cunt, she began to talk to him in a droning hypnotic voice.

"I want to fuck, lover. I want to fuck you like we've never fucked before. I want to put my finger in your asshole while you're fucking me, and I want you to do the same for me. And afterward, I want to suck your big, throbbing cock, suck it until I milk you dry, and then I'll lick your asshole, I'll put my tongue in it until I make you hard again. I want you to eat my cunt, I want your tongue where my finger is now, licking and biting and kissing my clit…"

On and on she intoned, and the words… the absolute perverted obscenity of what he was hearing lashed Brad's mind into a swirling frenzy of wild, implacable lust.

He watched her finger cease its rhythmic motion on her clitoris as he approached, and her smile turn to one of triumph as she claimed her victory beyond any doubt. His hand went out to her, touched her warmly rounded shoulders… but then she was moving back away from him, saying softly. "Not here, Brad. On the altar… let's go down to the chapel…"

Suddenly, Reverend Corman was shaken rudely awake. "Brad for heaven sakes, you were yelling your head off! Were you having a nightmare?"

"Huh? What…?" He sat up in bed wiping his sweat-soaked forehead with the arm of his pajamas. Julie was standing over him looking concerned and he realized he had been having an erotic dream. The woman standing over him was the same woman in the dream but her actions had strictly been the stuff that dreams are made of. His wife, Julie would never have behaved as she had in the dream. Not in ten million years!

It was odd, the young minister mused, his wife was a beautiful sensuous woman but she considered sex lewd… Oh, she let him take her all right… that was her God-assigned wifely duty. She always did her duty like the well-brought up, wife of a minister should… yes, she did… she most certainly did. But somehow, she never seemed to let Brad forget that that was just what she was doing… her duty. There wasn't much joy in it for either of them and although Bradley was an ordained minister and he thought that chiefly it was a reproductive function, he secretly dreamed of lewd orgies and other depraved activities.

"Okay, Julie, I'm getting up to have a drink. Whew, what a dream. Last time I'm going to bed at eight o'clock."

Reverend Corman gravely listened to the charges that the man made. It was hard to know what to believe, receiving this kind of anonymous information over the telephone. But there it was… a disjointed male voice at the other end of the wire telling him the most incredible things and demanding that he as God's representative do something about it. Bradley Corman couldn't imagine himself checking out the facts. They were just too bizarre. How could all these atrocious things be happening on the campus of a private girls' school? He thanked the man on the phone for calling the matter to his attention and then hung up, deeply disturbed.

Reverend Corman had only been at Craven Girls' College for about a month. It was essentially his first job as a school chaplain and he enjoyed working with the young girls. The girls ranged in age from ten to fifteen and his own thirteen year old daughter, Janice, was among the students.

The president of the college was a weird old duck named William Lowell and along with the rest of the directors of the small school kept pretty much to himself. Things were very quiet at Craven. That's what made the anonymous caller's charges all the more outrageous, for if what he said was true, the quiet belied a rotten core and a perverted undercurrent. Why, how could it be so? Dean Lowell was a pillar of the community. He was not only connected with Craven but also sat on the Board of Education and held various other honorary titles from the Chamber of Commerce and other business clubs. The school enjoyed a good reputation and many a graduate at Smith and Radcliffe had come from Craven.

The caller had spared the chaplain no detail and Reverend Corman wondered if the whole scenario was not just some plot from a pornographic movie the man on the phone had seen. The man had said that there were things going on after hours in the old School Board building. Bad things. Perverted things, involving members of the Board of Education and young female students from Craven. The man said that almost every night, young girls some not even in their teens were getting fucked while some of the old men participated and some just contented themselves watching. Dear heaven, to think that children, some even younger than his own thirteen year old daughter, Janice, were, according to his source, sucking cock like popsicles and getting their own cunts eaten by dirty old men!

The concerned minister put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, tipping it up on the two back legs. God, what a business. He would have to expose this dreaded business for the sake of his wife and daughter.

His daughter. He felt a little twinge of pride at the thought of his daughter. Thirteen years old and couldn't be sweeter. Janice was unspoiled and well brought up. He and Julie had seen to that and had brought her up according to God's commandments. They'd never let her run wild. They'd been very strict with her and that was one of the reasons they didn't have to worry about her getting involved in any scandal like the one Reverend Corman had just been told about. He wondered what he would do if he ever caught Janice in a place like that, caught her with some old pervert who was forcing his baby to commit indecent acts. Merciful heavens, the thought of it made him whisper a silent prayer.

If those girls were willing then what they needed was not patience and permissive understanding but old fashioned discipline. He'd take responsibility for administering it, too. He'd go out there and take each one of those youngsters across his knee. He'd pull their skirts up around their waists and then he'd bring his hand down so hard on their quivering little buttocks that their screams would be heard clear on the other side of town. He clenched his teeth in righteous rage as he thought of their jiggling white ass-cheeks turning as red as tomatoes under their flimsy panties. The adolescent girls would thrash and squirm, do anything to escape his wrath, but by the good Lord, he would be relentless! Those kids had the thrashing of their lives coming to them, and he'd like to be the one to give it to them. Sure, they would sob and beg for mercy, beg him to stop the punishment, but he wouldn't listen. He would go on and on, raining one blow after another on their defenseless little bottoms, until he was exhausted.

And some day they would thank him for it, too. It would be a long time before they did, it would be a week before any of them would be able to sit down, even. But someday when they were finally women with husbands and children, decent citizens, free from the sins of youth, they'd thank him. He smiled grimly with satisfaction. And then he heard Dean Lowell's footsteps above the chaplain's small office and the scrape of his desk chair as he pulled it up to his desk.

Reverend Corman waited a few minutes, to give the dean a chance to go through the morning's mail and make his telephone calls and walked up the short staircase from the chapel's small office. The minister stopped at the door, and knocked. Behind the frosted glass window which had 'Dean' stenciled across the front he could see Lowell reflected hunched over his desk. At the sound of the minister's knock, a voice called out, "Come in."

The handsome minister turned the knob and pushed the door open. Once more Lowell was hunched over his desk, scribbling something on a legal-sized yellow pad. "Be with you in a minute, Reverend Corman," he mumbled, continuing to write. It was one of his little affectations, Bradley noticed. The dean always liked to appear that you were stealing a few precious seconds of his time. It let all the staff know how busily the president of the college was attending to business although, Bradley thought wryly, there certainly wasn't much he could be doing. The school was an institution; it practically ran itself.

Finally, Lowell shoved the pad away from him, then swiveled around in his desk chair, and smiled patronizingly, "Morning, Reverend."

"Good morning, Dean Lowell."

"Fabulous day, isn't it, Reverend?"

The agitated minister clearly did not feel the same way. His day had started out with the alarming anonymous phone call which was his reason for the visit to the dean's office in the first place. It was not a duty he relished, bringing up this most distasteful topic with the outrageous accusations. "Fine day, Dean Lowell," he said though.

"What's on your mind… running short of hymn books down in the chapel?"

Reverend Corman shuffled a little uneasily. He cleared his throat, and began, "Something has come to my attention that I feel I should discuss with you…"

"Well, what is it?" Lowell asked, his face bland.

"This morning I had an anonymous phone call…"

Lowell looked annoyed. "An anonymous phone call, really Reverend, unless you have something specific in mind… those boys down at Billings Hall are always calling up here with some prank or other…"

"This did have some kind of a ring of truth to it, Dean Lowell."

"Shoot," Lowell said, looking quite bored with the whole matter and wondering how he could keep this brief.

"I've heard that the old School Board offices are being used for some sort of uh… parties."

The minister could not quite bring himself to say orgies.

He looked directly into the eyes of the dean, and thought he saw the faintest flicker of something… shock…? Fear? But whatever it was, it disappeared almost at once, and now he saw the guarded look that was the school administrator's regular demeanor.

"Well, I believe the offices are rented out. So what if they're being used for parties?"

"The parties are not parties in the strictest sense of the word. You haven't heard anything about what goes on there?"

"Perhaps, in passing," he replied carelessly. "The building is quite large and there are some big old comfortable rooms there with fireplaces and the like which are very conducive to entertaining. If people want to rent the place and take their friends I don't see any harm in that. Really, if you're referring to drinks being served there, I see no harm in that."

Corman felt a slow flush crawling over his face. It was just like the dean to dismiss him as an alarmist. Well, he was going to tell the story and that was that. He fought to control his voice; even so, when he spoke, it was choked with righteous indignation: "Dean Lowell, I am not referring to people having a few innocent drinks with their friends in a comfortable room with a fireplace. I'm talking about sin and degradation! I'm talking about youngsters perhaps from here at Craven committing lewd and indecent acts. Children no older than my Janice putting on sexual exhibitions with dirty old men watching and participating."

"Watching what?" Lowell's steel-cold, flinty grey eyes were boring into the minister's skull, as if they could see everything he was thinking. "What were they watching, Reverend?" He shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Listen, if you want me to do something about this revelation of yours you're going to have to be a little more explicit and present a few facts."

"All right. The other night there was a little red-haired child of about twelve years of age over there. She was completely naked and lying on a bed and some man about sixty years of age climbed on top of this innocent girl, while about a dozen other men watched, and the first thing you know he spread the child's legs so wide she looked like she'd crack down the middle… and then he put his head down, right there between her legs, and uh… to put it delicately… began to lick her genital area."

The old man stared at him, not saying anything, his eyes boring through him once again. "Well…?"

"Well what?"

"What else? Did anything else take place over there or is that about it?"

"The caller said there was another youngster… couldn't have been any older than the little redhead and almost the same thing happened with her except that she was uh… sucking a penis, wrapping it around some old man's penis until it was hard as a rock. And then, God forgive her, she took the whole length of it into her mouth and almost choked on the thing."

The Dean shuffled the papers on his desk, cleared his throat and took out a cigarette. He stuck it in the corner of his mouth, fumbled for his lighter amidst the papers and took a deep drag. He blew a smoke ring out and watched it float off in little wisps of white, disappearing into stale air. "Seems to me that this could be a made up story. You have no names, nothing. Some guy calls up and tells you about a red-haired kid that may or may not be a student here at Craven… what kind of evidence is that… I can't summon every redheaded kid in the school to my office to ask her if she's been sucking cock over at the School Board offices, now can I, Reverend?"

Bradley Corman winced at the dean's crude question. "It's not really the girls I'm concerned about. I'm more concerned with the kind of man that would take a once innocent child and turn her into some kind of a wanton… hussy!"

Lowell raised a busy eyebrow and Brad saw the slightest sign of a condescending smirk on his jowly face. "It happens, you know, Reverend Corman. They don't retain virginity forever. Kids nowadays don't revere virginity like our generation did. It's only something to get rid of… an encumbrance like adenoids… I'm afraid if you're going to tell your little charges in the chapel that they have to save it for marriage you're not going to have too many takers…"

He tilted his chair back and looked at the minister in a bemused fashion.

"For heaven's sake, Dean. I'm not that naive. I know it happens all the time but not here at Craven, and it doesn't happen all the time in public this way with kids not even in their teens putting on exhibitions… yes, exhibitions! And there's a reason why it's happening here, now."

The minister paused, wiping his forehead, surprised that it was covered with cold sweat. He hadn't really realized before that this thing meant so much to him. But he did. He cared about these young girls at the school, cared what was happening to them. And why didn't the dean? What was the matter with him that he seemed so disinterested with something occurring right under his nose when he was the first citizen to take on almost any cause in the city.

The Dean of Craven was staring at him again, his mouth a tight, grim line. What was the matter with him?

As the minister stared back, the line softened a little, relaxed, as if by some great effort of will on the part of the older man. The steely eyes bored into him again, then they too, softened a little, then seemed to became almost shifty. What on earth was the matter with him? He was in charge of the welfare of the girls at his prestigious school and he was showing no interest whatsoever in investigating the charges some of which indicating that twelve year old girls were being sodomized in the School Board offices… merciful heavens! Suddenly, he said, "Perhaps the police should be alerted to this!"

A tiny shudder, almost imperceptible, seemed to run up Lowell's spine. In a split second he regained his composure and had shaken off whatever shock had hit him. "To what, Reverend?" he asked languidly, picking up a pencil, tapping it on the desk.

"Why to pick up the people involved… especially if it in any way involves school children."

"Why should they?"

"Because if School Board offices have been turned into a den of iniquity, a cesspool of vice and sins against nature…"

"Listen, Reverend, I think you're getting a little carried away. Some crank caller is having this much effect on you? Really, Corman I think until you have some facts or proof to back up your story you better forget it. You can't just go around making these allegations which could turn out to be completely groundless."

The two men stared at each other once again, for what seemed an eternity. Corman felt the tension rising, felt the atmosphere thicken with an uncomfortable tightness. Suddenly, he blurted out, "I'm not going to stand idly by and watch this happen. I intend to do something about the immortal souls of these young girls."

"How do you propose to do that?" Lowell queried.

"I'll make it my business to go out to the School Board offices to investigate for myself."

Lowell smirked and said sarcastically to the minister, "Do you think these degenerates will allow you into their vice den?"

"I'll find some way," the minister offered in what he hoped was a courageous sounding voice.

Suddenly, Lowell addressed the young minister in a very serious tone. "Frankly, Reverend Corman, I'm very surprised that you are getting so excited about an anonymous tip like this. How do you know that the caller didn't have some reason for spreading this malicious gossip? Well, you don't. It all makes for a better story when prominent people are accused of hanky-panky, right or wrong?" Lowell apparently didn't require an answer because the tirade continued. "I'll tell you another thing, too. All the people on the board are my friends. You've only been here a month. I've been here my whole life and these men are as fine a lot of men as you'll find anywhere." He shook his head dramatically, pushing his glasses up on his forehead now. "All you've got is a lot of allegations from someone who didn't even have the courage to identify himself and I think you should just let this matter drop."

He shook his head vigorously and dropped his eyes, letting the minister know that he could leave, that he had nothing more to say and no intention of listening, either.