Date: Sun, 24 Nov 2013 21:30:55 -0500
From: oberon ofavalon <oberon_52@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mr. Wallace and Me (Parts 14 and 15--TG)

Mr. Wallace and Me

By Robin O.

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?

Almost without thinking about it, I drove to the same 24-hour diner where I
had changed into my boy clothes after being with Gary, the convenience
store clerk who had been the first to restrain my wrists. I didn't bother
with my shawl. I just grabbed my purse, popped the trunk and removed the
gym bag with my boy clothes in it and walked into the diner. It was then
that I realized I was famished. My tight stomach was doing flip-flops, and
I needed a bowl of soup.

It was late, so there weren't a lot of people in the diner: a few older
couples sitting in booths, five or six men seated at the counter watching a
sports show on the TV, two couples -- they looked like college students --
at a table being loud and obnoxious, and a young man, probably another
college student, at a nearby table trying to study. I was led by the
hostess to a table around the corner from the college students.

My mind still a blur, I ordered a bowl of minestrone soup. It tasted so
good that I ordered another. I finished that bowl, and the waitress brought
me the check. I was starting to feel a little better, but I was still so
troubled about what might lie ahead of me in the future. Do girls always
feel as worthless as I do now?

My reverie was interrupted by the four loud college students, who probably
had too much to drink earlier in the evening. They were teasing the young
man who was trying to study. I couldn't see them, but I could hear them.

"What's the matter, Howard?" teased one of the girls. "Couldn't get a date
... again?"

One of the young men laughed and chimed in:

"Don't bother Howard," he jeered, "He's sitting there with all his
friends."

The young men at the table guffawed, and the girls giggled. I leaned over
and peeked around the corner. "Howard," a slender young man with glasses,
was trying to ignore the taunts, but his face was turning red.

"Howard," said the other girl, "how come we never see you with a date? Are
you gay? Or are you just ... you know .. tiny ... down there?"

They roared at that, and I could see that Howard was trying to ignore the
taunting but was getting very upset, The teasing continued unabated for the
next few minutes, and I don't know why I did it, but I left a tip on the
table, grabbed my check, got up, adjusted my gown and long, white gloves,
picked up my gym bag, walked around the corner and looked at Howard, who
was probably about three years older than me.

"Howard?" I said. "Is that you, Howard?"

Howard looked up at me in utter surprise. He had no idea who the stunning
woman in the halter gown could be. At the nearby table, the young men gaped
at me and the girls just stared, their mouths open.

"Howard, don't tell me you don't remember me," I said with a cute pout as I
put down my purse and gym bag. "Those nights in that motel room spoiled me
for all other men."

Howard's face was all confused as he stumbled to his feet and adjusted his
glasses. I walked over to him, crossed my arms around his neck and leaned
back.

"Howard," I said, my eyes looking longingly into his, "I know I'm not as
beautiful as those other girls you've been with, but didn't that weekend
mean anything?"

With that, I leaned forward and kissed him, oozing my body into his as his
hands didn't know what to do. I made sure the kiss lasted a long time, with
me making little mewing, moaning noises. The young men's eyes were glued to
my undulating, bare back, undoubtedly wishing they could be in Howard's
place. When our lips finally parted, I femininely took his hand.

"Walk me to the cashier, will you, darling?" I said loud enough for those
at the other table to hear.

I glanced over my bare shoulder and saw the stunned young people staring at
us as we walked toward the cashier. The girls' eyes were wide and
puzzled. The looks of the young men I recognized easily. I had seen lust
before.

I took Howard aside near the cashier, in full view but out of earshot of
those who had teased him. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses.

"Lady," he said, his voice shaky, "I think you must have me mixed up with
someone else."

"No, Howard," I said, moving my hands against his chest. "I just don't like
to see anyone teased like those jerks were teasing you. Now, put your arms
around me, like you own me.

He hesitated.

"C'mon," I said with a smile, "do it."

He clumsily put his hands on my bare back as I kissed him.

"C'mon ..." I said, "like you own me."

I put my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Soon, his hands
grew more confident, moving all over my bare skin, then down to my bottom,
which he squeezed with both hands. It hurt because of the spanking I had
received from the policeman, especially when Howard lifted me off my feet
in his enthusiasm. His tongue tentatively tried to enter my mouth. I let it
in and our tongues meshed in a slow, sensual way. Once he got the hang of
it, he wasn't a bad kisser, not bad at all.  I peeked over his shoulder. We
had the full attention of the two couples at the table, and the men at the
counter seemed to find us interesting, too. When our bodies parted, there
was a definite bulge in Howard's pants. I cupped Howard's cheek with my
right hand and looked up into his eyes.

"Now, Howard," I said, "don't ever let mean people like that bother you
again. Find yourself a nice girl. Meanwhile, I don't think anyone is going
to tease you again after word of this gets around."

I gave him one last sensual kiss and was rewarded with a grateful smile. He
was a nice guy. He walked back to the table, ignoring the stares from the
adjoining table, and with a confident smile resumed his studies.

I paid my check, picked up my gym bag and turned to go into the ladies room
to change my clothes. In my path was one of the obnoxious girls.

"Um, excuse me," she said. She was slender and probably would have been
pretty if she wasn't wearing so much makeup.

"I was just wondering," she said. "Howard is a friend of yours?"

I just smiled and nodded.

"I couldn't help overhearing," she said tentatively. "You spent a weekend
with him?"

"The best weekend of my life," I said. "If you must know, he's the best
lover I've ever had, by far. Not only is he amazingly endowed ... I mean
huge! But he's also the most accomplished, intuitive, incredibly sexual man
I've ever been with. He's so caught up in his studies, he doesn't have much
time for me or any of the other women who want to be with him. Why do you
ask? Is he a friend of yours, too? Don't be jealous, sweetie. Howard is too
much man for just one girl."

The girl stammered and thanked me. I could see in her face that she was
thinking about perhaps checking out Howard's sexual prowess for herself. I
hoped he would turn her down if she did. He deserves a nicer person.

I excused myself and went into the one-person ladies room, where I took my
time washing the makeup from my face, putting my hair into its customary
ponytail and changing into my male clothes. When I emerged as the
nondescript male that I was, the four rude young people had gone. Howard
was still at his table, drinking coffee and studying.

I quickly left the diner and got into Mom's car. As I drove off, I found
myself smiling.

"I guess," I said to myself, "that being beautiful can be a good thing. I
may have just changed a man's whole life in a positive way."

I found myself looking forward to Chicago, and becoming the best woman I
could be.


End of Part 15. (To be continued.)