All characters are over eighteen years of age
*****
I'd always been lukewarm about going to church, but I had very devout parents and had to be at death's door to get out of it. Worse, I've never been particularly religious, especially after I spent a week, the summer before I started high school, reading my Bible from cover to cover. Early on, I learned that non-conformity was not appreciated.
On the other hand, I do like seeing the ladies in their Sunday-go-to-meeting finery. All go dressed to the nines; wearing make up, hair styled, refined fabrics. skirts, blouses, dresses, heels and hose. Between seeing the women all dressed up and getting to talk to girls my age in the Teen Study class, it made bearable the ordeal of sitting through long winded sermons and hours of boring, pointless ritual.
Mrs. Taylor, the wife of one of the church's aldermen, led the study group. Her eldest daughter, Charity (but everyone called her Cherry, including her parents), was also in the group with her two younger sisters, Joy and Grace. Cherry was my age and I'd been crushing on her for weeks.
I also really liked Mrs. Taylor who was every bit as beautiful as her daughters. It wasn't like I 'like' liked Mrs. Taylor, it was more that she seemed to value my thoughts, encouraged my participation, and had a knack of drawing me out.
I guess I was also her 'teacher's pet', as she would regularly ask to do extra things to get the class ready; make copies of reading materials, set up the tables, unstack and place the chairs, get out the dry erase board, stuff like that. It was the same thing for after the class, but putting stuff away. Often, after class, she would ask what I thought about the discussions and sometimes what topics we'd cover the following week. I was more than happy to oblige her.
Like I said, she was every bit as attractive as Cherry; long brown hair, full lips on a mouth quick to smile, cute nose, freckles, though neither Cherry or her younger sisters had nearly as many of those. Mrs. Taylor was easy for me to talk to, always encouraging me to speak my mind, and gave me suggestions for reading. She'd laugh if I said something funny. Even better, she would usually reward me with a hug, pressing her large breasts into me, occasionally giving me a peck on the cheek.
Sometimes, and with what seemed like increasing frequency over the last several Sundays, it was like she would wait until I was sitting down so she could give me a kiss on the forehead. That I really enjoyed because then her chest was, literally, in my face.
Anyways, when I would masturbate at night, or in the morning, or in the shower, or when I could (come on, I was a teenage boy in high school with raging hormones and would jack off at every opportunity), I would often fantasize about Cherry, but at times Mrs. Taylor would appear in my imagination, with her hourglass figure, ample breasts and the hints of cleavage I'd been able to sneak looks at every once in a while. Sometimes I'd think about the two of them together and BOOM, another dirty tee shirt would be extra crusty.
So, one particular Sunday, the teen group topic was sex and sexual morality. I noticed Cherry's skirt was cut above her knees which was a little unusual, but not remarkable as it was a warm, late spring day. Days like that seemed to encourage higher cuts, shorter sleeves and open collars for the women. For us boys it meant no vests under our suit jackets, short sleeve, and for me, a change from my usual bow ties to a longer tie so I could undo the top button and loosen the tie.
What really caught my attention was that Mrs. Taylor's blouse was open at the top two buttons and her cleavage was, well, let's just say I had to force myself to look directly at her face when she called on me. I was using verses from the Song of Songs (the Song of Solomon to you heathens), some of which are pretty erotic, to argue that sex wasn't inherently evil or immoral. She seemed to be aware of the effect, however, as she would smile and lean forward slightly, as if to dare me to look at her cleavage. It was probably my imagination, but it seemed like she had been doing little things to attract my attention over the last couple of months.
It didn't help that Cherry was sitting to the other side of me. That's right, I was sitting at the large conference table, 'sandwiched' between Mrs. Taylor and her eldest daughter. It was a pleasant though wildly inappropriate realization for a Sunday school class. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed like Cherry was making more accidental physical contact, like she would touch my arm or brush her leg against mine. It wasn't anything overt or obvious, which is why I chalked it up to my mind playing tricks on me.
But I couldn't help it. The ultra-fundie of the group, Richie, was long winded and tended to drift off topic. It may have been because he didn't seem to have much scriptural support for his points. He didn't like me much, but the feeling was mutual. I'll admit that I enjoyed messing with him. It never took much; I'd quote a verse which contradicted him, ask him to cite a relevant passage, or call him out when he employed a logical fallacy.
Anyway, as the class continued, I noted that the Old Testament is rife with incest (Abraham and his half sister/wife Sarah, Jacob and both his wives/cousins Rebecca and Leah, Lot and his daughters, Noah's family post flood are the easy stand outs), the enslavement of women to be used as concubines without the bother of marrying them, of women having their husbands use their handmaidens as sexual surrogates. At the end, I suggested that maybe what we currently accepted as sexual morality wasn't based in the Bible so much as they were in ever changing social expectations.
By the time the class was over, between the subject matter, Cherry and Mrs. Taylor, I was sporting a raging stiffy. I was deliberately slow in gathering up my stuff; Bible, notebook, pencil, and repacking my vinyl portfolio as I tried to get myself under control. The other kids had already cleared out. As usual Mrs. Taylor asked me if I would stay and help put things away.
Of course I said yes, but I didn't move right then as I hoped she would turn her back to me long enough for me to readjust myself so my cock wasn't tenting my suit pants. She didn't.
