0 comments/ 5451 views/ 6 favorites Memoir of a Young Mistress Pt. 01 By: FunWhileItLasted It all started because Emily had a cold. It was a disappointment in more ways than one. First, having a cold sucked. Nothing tasted right, everything hurt, and overall, she was miserable. Second, she loved going to Youth Group on Sundays. All of her favorite friends were there. Having been home schooled since second grade wasn't conducive to making much of a circle of friends, so the group at Sea Coast Baptist Church was her social life. Third, today was a special Sunday; it was the first Sunday of the new month after her 18th birthday, and that meant she "graduated" up into the older half of Youth. She cursed having to wait so long, as her birthday was early in the month, so she'd had to wait almost a full four weeks until she could move up to the next class. The younger class was teens aged 13-17; the older 18-21. She was terribly excited to be part of the "adults". She was the last of her circle of friends to make the move. Kayla was the oldest; she had moved up last fall. Amy and Tawny went right after the new year. The last friend to leave her behind was her best friend Sierra, in the summer. It was fall now, and she had finally caught up with her besties. Fourth, and maybe the worst part, being home sick meant not only missing Youth, it meant not being in the presence of the incredibly hot Mister Carson. Ted Carson had joined the staff at SCBC two years ago and immediately stirred things up at a rather tepid church. He was a dynamic leader, charismatic, witty, very liberal-minded (for a Baptist church at least), and yes, very good looking. Literally every girl in Youth had a tremendous crush on him. Married, in his late forties, he had the graying good looks of a George Clooney. Insisting right away that everyone in his class call him "Mister Ted" or just "Ted", instead of "Mister Carson" or "Brother Carson" scored him plenty of Cool Points with the youth, and stern disapproval from the elder, more traditional members of the congregation. What they couldn't deny though, was that in just a few months he had taken a tiny handful of semi-attending kids and grown the group into one of the largest youth programs in their side of town. He introduced community projects, out-of-town trips (all paid for by aggressive fund-raising drives), and a music program that included a choir and a praise band. This growth spilled over into the church as a whole, and if there was one thing that made Baptists happy, it was a full church (with plenty of tithing members). So, despite his liberal, unconventional attitude, Ted Carson was a very popular staff member at SCBC. So, Emily was not happy at all. The sore throat was the worst of it; it made eating torture, so she had deliberately avoided food at all costs, and that had made her even weaker. Now she was in bed, nursing a glass of Gatorade and browsing MySpace on her laptop. Every Sunday afternoon the church's page posted video clips of the service (another innovation suggested by Mister Ted) and Emily kept checking the page hoping to catch the praise band, and a glimpse of Ted. Emily had a thing for him, just like all the others, and she was hoping he had done a solo in today's praise band music, so she could see a close-up. Youth Minister Ted Carson sat at his computer, waiting for the video file of today's service clips to upload. He wasn't as tech-savvy as many thought. He really was just learning as he went along, but he saw the potential of internet media and social networking to grow the youth group's numbers and help promote the church overall, so he accepted the unofficial title of church webmaster. He had created a MySpace page for the church and the youth group, and his own personal page was used to post videos and announcements for the group's upcoming activities. It was certainly easier to post a bulletin to all the kids in his class than to call or mail all of them, so he was grateful for the new technology. Sometimes he explored the pages of his students out of curiosity and got a headache from all the glittery flashing displays and auto-playing music, but it was a good way to keep abreast of their current likes and dislikes, and reading the comments and conversations that went back and forth publicly helped him stay on top of any feuds or cliques before they formed. He was amused to see how many of the girls in the group had him in their "Top 9" or "Top 12" lists of contacts. He wasn't completely oblivious to his popularity among the female students. It helped remind him of what a great opportunity he had to have a positive influence on the lives of so many impressionable people. He did, however find his mind occasionally wandering as he looked at the girls' pictures. He'd catch himself saying the old phrase in his mind, "Where were all these pretty girls when I was a teenager?" to which he'd answer, "Not even born yet, man." It was hard not to let his mind wander, considering the turn his married life had taken the last couple of decades. Ted Carson married the first girl he ever dated, and the first girl he ever kissed. It just felt right, and things always seemed just the way things were supposed to be, and, since he had no other frame of reference to compare, he was satisfied. Now he was at the point many men fear; the dreaded middle ages. This is where it's obligatory to look back over one's life and compare it to others in one's peer group, and feel depression at how much less the reality compares to the dreams of his early twenties. Two children, grown with kids of their own, a decent job, a mortgage, and two cars. Is this all there is? "This," he thought to himself, "is what a mid-life crisis feels like." One of the other advantages to all this technology was something he had never had in his youth: easy access to pornography. Growing up in a church family doesn't create clean-minded, moral people; it creates sexually frustrated people. Ted navigated to the folder that was buried deep in the bowels of his PC that was innocently labeled, "Study Notes". He opened it and began browsing the files stored there. Not a huge collection, but enough to satisfy him when he felt the urge to fantasize. Less than a hundred images and videos, but all what he considered to be "the best of the best", he clicked from one file to the next, feeling a slowly growing bulge in his pants. Ted loved his wife. He loved his family. He told himself he would never do anything outwardly to hurt them in any way, ever. He knew that marriage was forever; a sacred promise, and that if things weren't going the way he wished they were, it wasn't anyone's fault but his own. Communication was important. So, years ago, after the birth of their second child, Ted expressed to his wife his desires to explore new areas of lovemaking. His first ventures into erotic fiction, and later pornography, had stirred primal feelings he had never felt before, and he wanted to share and explore these new things with his wife. Sex with his wife had always been very straightforward; the sort of thing more than one stand-up comic described as "man-on-top-get-it-over-with-quick". Always the same routine: some kissing, some light petting, gentle foreplay, then missionary position. Anything deviating from the routine was "perverted" to his wife, who also grew up in the church. Things like oral sex of any kind or role playing were not an option. But the more he read and saw the things he was missing, the more he wanted to experience them. He tried subtly at first, initiating things in the bedroom, but was always rebuffed. Discussing the ideas in conversation met with the same rejection, along with an accusation that he had been "spending too much time watching the cable channels". So, the only reasonable option he could think of was to keep a small secret from his wife. He would enjoy the sex he wanted vicariously, through masturbation and fantasy. Looking at the girls in the pictures and the videos helped satisfy his needs, and to him, it wasn't cheating. He wasn't actually having sex with these women. It was just a small sin, and he hoped he would be forgiven for it. He imagined himself actually in the presence of the beautiful girls, displaying themselves to him in such arousing poses. He imagined he was the recipient of the oral pleasures he saw being given, and he imagined himself as the giver of the pleasures given in return. He closed the folder quickly as he heard his wife coming downstairs. Rearranging himself in the chair, he thought of as many non-arousing things as he could to make the bulge in his pants go away. His wife stuck her head in the room of his study. "I'm going to the grocery store. You want anything?" "Uhhh...I'm low on shampoo. And maybe get some apples?" he replied. He still had the images in his mind, and couldn't focus that well on a shopping list. His wife left and he heard the car pulling out of the garage. "Play time," he said out loud. Lately, he had taken every opportunity to masturbate when his wife was out. It was another of those "forbidden, sick" pleasures he wanted, and so he was usually only able to satisfy himself when she was away. He considered a session at the desk, watching the images, but they were fresh enough in his mind that he decided to enjoy the comfort of laying in his bed. More than once he had told his wife he was sleepy during the day and wanted to "take a nap", and was able to have short sessions even though she was home; but a full, good jerk only happened while she was out of the house. He went upstairs to their bedroom, stripped to his boxers, and dimmed the lights. Laying on top of the cool sheets, he closed his eyes and slid his hand inside his waistband and absently began to run his fingertips over his limp organ. In his mind he scanned through all the pictures and settled on a favorite: a beautiful girl about twenty, with short brown hair and blue eyes. The picture was taken from the point of view of the man she was with. She was taking his erect cock deep into her mouth, and looking up at the camera. She was nude, and the composition of the picture was intended to fully show off her body. Her breasts hung free, and he imagined how they must have swayed back and forth as she slid her mouth up and down on the man's cock. One hand was between her legs, and he imagined how wet she must have been. He wondered what it would be like. "If only. If only I could have a wife that would do that with me." Stroking more steadily now, he imagined himself in the place of the man who took the picture. He felt his now-firm erection in his fingers and tried to convince his mind that it was instead in the mouth of that beautiful young girl. He imagined her looking up at him with eyes that said she wanted him, and that she was readying herself for him as she played with herself. Ted's mind was a crowded place; full of almost fifty years of experiences, desires, fantasies, and memories. As he stroked his erection, the girl's face drifted and blurred to other girls he had known in his life that looked similar, including one he had wanted to date before he met his wife, but never got up the nerve to ask out. He also saw actresses he fancied, again merging them with the pretty short-haired girl. Then he saw a face that he knew quite well. She had never before entered his mind during a playing session. He saw Emily, the newest member of his class. He let the image linger as he stroked. Emily was what Ted considered girl-next-door pretty. Deep blue eyes, short brown hair, very light skin with a clean complexion. She was 5'1", which always caused her to keep a greater-than-usual distance from him when they spoke, so that she didn't have to crane her neck to make eye contact with his six-foot frame. She usually dressed very much in a tomboy manner; jeans and tee shirts, with white socks and sneakers. Once in a great while she would wear a top that showed a little cleavage and it was definitely a distraction, for her breasts were around a large C cup, maybe even a D, and wide hips to match, creating what Ted considered to be a most attractive figure. His fantasy grew more focused on Emily as he approached his climax. He imagined her full breasts swaying back and forth as her head bobbed up and down on him, and her hand caressing the wetness between her legs. When he came, the image in his mind was 100% Emily, and he imagined her lips pulling off the head of his cock with a smacking sound just before he unloaded, but then opening her mouth again to eagerly receive his cum on her tongue. He groaned audibly, and the image was sharper in his mind than any fantasy had ever been. He shuddered as the spasms finished, and he let his mind linger on Emily's deep blue eyes. The sound of the garage door opening downstairs made him jump, and he wiped himself clean with some tissues and quickly dressed, flushing the evidence away in the bathroom. As he went downstairs to help his wife bring in the groceries, his thoughts kept going back to his newly-created picture of Emily. "What an incredible thing that would be," he mused to himself. End of part one. Memoir of a Young Mistress Pt. 02 Emily cycled through all her MySpace friends' pages, as well as the ones Ted operated. There were still no videos from the morning worship service. "Ted." She called him that in her head and it was fine, but she didn't have the nerve to do it at church, so he was always "Mister Ted" in public. It's not that she didn't want to; but she thought it was too familiar. Most of the other girls called him Ted, but she couldn't bring herself to cross that line, not yet anyway. Kayla's page was full of quotes from Chuck Palahniuk and Henry Rollins. She considered herself to be "edgy" in the trendy sense of the word, but inside she was very insecure and spent most of her free time wondering what others thought of her. Behind her back, a lot of the boys called her a "butterface". She wasn't that unattractive, but people did tend to notice Kayla's figure before her face. Amy's page was full of flowers, peace signs, and day-glo colors, which matched her perfectly. She would have fit right in at Woodstock, with her slim figure, tan skin, long, straight blonde hair, and blue eyes. Bubbly and outgoing, she was usually an instigator rather than a follower. Tawny was the church girl. Her page always had a "Christian Rock" song on autoplay, and it was full of trendy images of church-camp style inspirational posters. Favorite book: The Bible. Favorite pastime: Praying. Favorite band: Whatever group was in the top 10 of contemporary Christian music this month. She played bass in the praise band, and they had to put her out front because no one could see her 4' 10" Reubenesque shape behind the vocalists, and she couldn't see past them either. Sierra was the wicked girl. She had a serious IDGAF attitude and she loved proving it. Her MySpace page listed her occupation as "Future Suicide Girl" and she meant it. Her single mom took her to get her first tattoo when she was 14, and now she had three. Her favorite was the colorful full-back design that replicated the album cover of one of her favorite bands. Slim, pale, with long straight brown hair and dark green eyes, she had led more than one boy astray in the youth group. Her only reasons for attending SCBC were that she enjoyed being with her friends and stirring up controversy. Ted learned quickly to never call on her during class discussions unless he was ready for debating. She loved challenging authority, and better yet; overcoming authority. Emily's own page showed her loves: Comics (particularly Batman and Harley Quinn), music (Beatles, Billy Joel, and Queen in the song rotation) and young adult book series such as Harry Potter and Twilight. The most recently-posted picture was a colorful fantasy-inspired unicorn painting. Emily considered herself to be a unicorn, in some ways. Her homeschooling kept her from much of the social development that most children got from public school, but she was exceptionally smart for that same reason. She loved having conversations with people decades her senior; and could hold her own discussing history, politics, music, religion, and philosophy. Another "unicorn" trait was that Emily was the one remaining virgin in her circle of friends. Not just socially but also sexually inexperienced; Emily had only romantically kissed someone one time so far (at the age of 16), and her nervousness and awkwardness about it led her potential suitor to tell her she was "a lousy kisser", which caused her to draw inside even more. Avoiding any further attempts at dating, she paid strict attention to her studies, and dove into her comics and her fantasy books. What she didn't realize was that in the last couple of years she had blossomed from a clumsy tomboy into a curvy head-turner. Most any boy in the youth group would have loved to date her, but they were either intimidated by her looks or misinterpreted her shyness as coldness. Had she known, she would have been terribly hurt to hear the word most often used to describe her was, "stuck-up". So, she sat in bed, alone with her fantasies of Batman and Harley, and waited for the video to appear. Bored, she typed a sentence into her status box, "Being sick sucks," followed by a sad face. VIDEO UPLOAD COMPLETED. "About time," thought Ted. Although he was impressed with his newly acquired DSL service, uploading videos was still a painfully long wait. It was close to an hour for this one and it was less than ten minutes long. If he was to ever fulfill his dream of uploading entire services to the internet, someone had better find faster ways to do it. He posted the link to view the video on the youth group MySpace page, and then to the SCBC one. When he returned to the youth page, he saw it already had a comment, a simple "Yay!" and a smiley face. "Well, hello there Emily," he whispered out loud. He clicked her picture, which took him to her profile. "These girls must put hours into customizing their pages," he thought. "Hmm. Batman. I never pictured her as a DC girl." Ted was more of a Marvel fan. "I guess that ends that relationship," he chuckled to himself. He continued to explore Emily's profile, reading through public conversations and poring over pictures. Such a pretty girl. He felt a small bit of guilt over his fantasy earlier, but he knew he would be forgiven. He was a man born of sin, and it would always be in his nature to want to sin. "Besides," he mused, "big difference between fantasizing about it and actually doing it." All of the other interests listed on her page really clicked with Ted. The more he learned, the more he thought that she would have been his Soul Mate if they had met when he was her age. Ted had very little in common with his wife. His circle of friends never could understand how they got together in the first place, as they were so different in likes and personality. Ted was a nerd, a lover of classical music, and very laid-back. His wife watched football on TV and yelled at the referees, listened to Gospel music, and her mercurial mood swings were the stuff of legend. The only explanation Ted could give for their original attraction was no one else was available at the time, and both of them were happy just to "be" with someone, as the teenage social pressure of the time required it. Both of them thought as they got to know each other, they'd grow closer, and they did to a degree, but it was more like best friends, rather than true love. Ted decided over time that he had never really been in love yet. Maybe one day he would meet someone and actually fall in love. "What am I thinking?" he scolded himself. "I'm here, and I need to make the best of it." Scrolling back up to the top of Emily's page, he noticed her short complaint. Once in a while, he interacted with the youth on their MySpace pages with short comments. "It won't hurt to make one here," he thought. He did a quick search for an image of a bowl of chicken soup. Copying the image, he pasted it into the box along with the comment, "Missed you in church today. Here's some soup for you. Get better!" He was about to log off the computer when he heard the notification chime indicating a private message. It was Emily. "Thank you for the virtual soup! It was delicious! Haha," He smiled at that, and started to log off again, and hesitated. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a quick chat," and he sent back, "I do hope you get better soon. Is it a cold or something worse?" Ding. "It's a cold but my throat is really sore. (smile) " "I hope you have everything you need. Lots of liquids, and all that?" Ding. "Yes, my mom got me Gatorade and that helps." Ding. "You sang really nice today. I liked the songs you picked. (smile) " "Thank you! I appreciate the feedback. Sometimes I look out over the congregation and really can't tell if they're enjoying themselves or not. The only exception is you guys there in the front few rows, you always look like you're into it." The youth group always sat together in the first few pews, like a club. There was always plenty of note-passing and texting. It was subtle though, and never a distraction. Ted could see everything from his seat by the choir loft. More than once he would send a shotgun text to everyone in the row, "STOP TEXTING AND PAY ATTENTION TO THE SERMON" and all the kids would giggle and smile at him, but comply. Nothing more back. He started to log off again. Ding. "I like hearing you sing. You have a really amazing voice! (smile) " Ted blushed a little. He was used to compliments on his singing, but coming from this girl, it made him feel really good. "Awh, thanks! You're amazing too! (smile) " "What the heck did I just say?" he thought. Worried he had stepped over a line, he waited out the awkward gap that seemed like forever. Would she even reply? A message like that could easily be misinterpreted. He certainly didn't want to be accused by some girl of flirting. Ding. "You're more amazing! (smile) " He breathed a sigh of relief. She took it in a friendly way. Ding. "(wink) " "Shit." His heart sped up and he looked over his shoulder to see if his wife were near. Nowhere in sight, and the sounds from the kitchen indicated dinner was being prepared. "Haha, silly person. (smile) I'm too old for you!" Ding. "Oh hush. Every girl in youth has a crush on you, don't deny you see it, haha! (smile) " "Well, too bad, I'm married! Haha! (smile) " Ding. "Too bad for me, haha! (smile) " "It's just friendly talk, she doesn't mean anything by it," Ted told himself. He decided to send one more message and then try to gracefully exit before he embarrassed himself once again. "Well, I hope you get better. I missed seeing your beautiful smile out there today." Ding. " (smile) " He typed again. "Anyway. It's fun talking, but I was up too late last night working on the music so I'm really needing a nap and sitting at this computer isn't helping with that. I'd better log off." Ding. "Awh, I wish we could talk longer, but I understand." "Yeah, I'd better go. Nice talking with you! (smile) " Ding. "You too! (smile) " Ted started to click the log out button. Ding. "Hey if you get bored and want to talk more, you can text me. I'm bored because I'm stuck in bed and no one else is online right now," and she ended the message with her cell number. "Okay, maybe I'll do that, haha. Bye. (smile) " He quickly clicked the log out button before he felt the urge to say more. Ted already had everyone's phone numbers, and they had his. He considered this. "She knows I have her number. Was that an invitation?" He made his way to the bedroom, telling his wife on the way up that he was getting a nap. Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he undressed to his boxers again and laid down. He took his cell in hand, scrolled through his contact list, and found Emily's number. He tried to think of something witty to say and everything sounded like a 14-year old awkwardly chatting up a pretty girl at the school dance. "Do I really want to do this?" he asked himself. "Yeah. I do. I really do." Ted started typing, one hand holding the phone, and the other absentmindedly brushing against the front of his boxers. End of part two. Memoir of a Young Mistress Pt. 03 Emily's heart was racing. "He said I was amazing and he said I had a beautiful smile and he flirted with me...sorta...," she thought. Her first impulse was to take her phone and text every girl that would care...Sierra first, of course, then Amy, Kayla, maybe even Tawny. Then she caught herself. "The only way they'd believe me is if I could show them, and I'm sick so they can't come over." She looked back at the laptop screen, scrolling back up over the messages, and then back down to his last reply of possibly texting her. "As if..," she sighed. She closed her laptop, and stared at her phone, mentally willing it to buzz. Ted had written five different openings so far, and backspaced over all of them. All he could think of was the image of Emily in bed. "If she's in bed she probably never got up this morning, so she's wearing what she slept in?" he mused. He pictured fleece pajamas, then shorts with a tee, then a long nightshirt (maybe with nothing underneath?) and that led his wandering hand closer to the slightly twitching bulge that was now in his boxers. "Now that," he imagined, "would be a sight." He gently ran his free hand over his hardening shaft, closing his eyes so he could imagine his new fantasy better. Emily was standing at the foot of his bed, in a long cotton nightshirt that was decorated with flowers. It was innocent and childlike, and would have looked cute on a five-year-old, but on Emily's blossoming body it was alluring. He could see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric, and wondered if she was aroused to be so close to him. The hemline fell to just below her knees, giving no clue as to whether she had anything on underneath. Emily said nothing, but smiled and never took her gaze off Ted. Her eyes locked on his, she crossed her arms and grasped the nightshirt at a point just below her waist. Slowly pulling it up over her head, Ted saw her knees, her thighs, then his eyes locked on her sex. She was shaved bare, her lips pink and swollen, as if she had recently been touching herself. The shirt continued to rise, baring her ample breasts, and then over her head, at which point she dropped the shirt on the floor and shook out her hair to untangle it. Still smiling, still making eye contact, Emily slid her hands up her sides and under her breasts, lifting them slightly, then gliding her fingers over the surface until her fingers had framed her pink nipples between them. Running fingers over nipples, teasing them, the nipples grew even harder and Ted ached to take one in his mouth and nibble on it. He envied the boys who had no doubt actually seen those marvelous breasts in real life, and possibly even suckled them. He suspected she was quite experienced, since she was so beautiful and probably had her pick of any boy she wanted. Now his cock had escaped the opening in his boxers and Ted was slowly stroking, and in his fantasy, Emily was now staring at his erection with hunger. "Do you like it?" he whispered, and Emily nodded, licking her lips. "Why don't you come here and see if it tastes as good as it looks?" The line was grade-B porn video dialog, but in his mind, it was the perfect words to turn fantasy-Emily into his willing pleasure girl. She climbed over the end of the bed and immediately took him fully into her mouth and he groaned. That was when Ted's phone buzzed and the bubble that was his fantasy broke like one a child had blown in a park with a bubble wand. He fumbled for his phone, which had gotten lost in the sheets. His erection was already going, as he was expecting the text to be from someone at the church reminding him of next week's staff meeting. They always sent a text on Sunday afternoons. He flipped the phone open and looked at the screen. It was Emily. Emily: Hey sorry if I woke you up I'm just so bored Ted's heart sped up again. "I don't have to think of how to start now!" He was flushed and if he had looked in a mirror, he would have seen the red rising in his face. He didn't hesitate this time. Ted: No! Not at all! (smile) How are you? Any better? Emily: A little (smile) it's just so boring because no one is online and no one is answering my texts (sad face) Ted: Aw. Maybe they are watching TV or they're all out? It's hard to hear a phone sometimes unless you're paying close attention Emily: Yeah. Do you mind talking just a little? I don't want to keep you up if you need to sleep... Ted: You're fine (smile) I was just laying here thinking about stuff. Not really sleeping yet, haha (smile) "If only she knew what I was thinking about...damn," he smiled at the thought of her blushing at that. He wondered what girls her age would do if a man bluntly told them they jacked off to fantasies about them. Emily: Yeah? What are you thinking about? Ted: Oh my. Don't put me on the spot like that, haha! (smile) Emily: What? Tell me!?!? Ted's heart was racing now. This was dangerous, and stupid, and careless. It was also the biggest rush he had ever experienced since the first time he had slid his hand under a girl's bra when he was a teenager. Ted: Haha (smile) nooooo I can't tell you (smile) Emily: Why not?? Tell meee pleeeeeaaase?? (smile) Ted: I'd get in trouble if I said. Let's just leave it at that (wink) Emily: I swear I won't tell anyone I totally swear "Do I really want to do this?" Ted asked himself again. He hesitated just a moment before punching the keys again. Ted: I was um...fantasizing. You know... Emily: OMG hehe...yeah?? Ted: Yes (blush) sorry that's TMI I know Emily: Hehe it's cool (smile) are you doing something? Haha (smile) Ted: Um...doing something? Emily: (wink) Ted: Ummm...haha...yes? (blush) Emily: So what are you thinking then? (smile) Ted: You really want me to tell you? Emily: Yes please (smile) Ted: I'm crazy and I can't believe I'm telling you this Ted: You swear you won't tell anyone? I'd get in so much trouble Emily: I swear and I mean it I promise Ted: Well... Emily: (smile) Ted: Please don't get mad Emily:??? Ted: I was thinking about you (blush) Emily: OMG really?? (smile) (blush) (smile) Ted: Yeah...sorry. I know that's bad... Emily: I don't think it's bad (smile) I'm flattered (smile) Ted: Really? (smile) Emily: Yes (smile) Ted: I've never told a girl that. It's kind of embarrassing (blush) Emily: I'm cool with it (smile) Ted's heart had slowed a bit, but was still way above normal rate. He realized his erection had returned. Ted: You are? Emily: Yeah...(smile) "Lord, son, a girl just told you it was okay to think about her while you jack off. What now?" he thought. Ted: Can I ask you something kind of personal? Emily: Sure (smile) Ted: How did it make you feel? When I told you that? There was a longer-than-usual pause between replies, and Ted thought he had crossed a line. Maybe she was about to tell him that they should stop. Maybe she was changing her mind and was going to tell her parents, or worse? His phone buzzed again and he jumped. Emily: Wet... Ted: Yeah? (smile) Emily: Yeah (smile) Ted was about to make a decision. If he went with one choice, this would end and hopefully never be brought up again, and he'd have a fond memory to think about in his fantasies. If he went with the other choice, it could mean his entire world was about to be flipped upside down. His fingers hesitated at the keypad. End of part three. Memoir of a Young Mistress Pt. 04 About ten minutes ago, Emily did something very out of character for someone so introverted. She'd never figure out what gave her the courage, but she'd sent Ted a text. He replied almost immediately, and they began talking comfortably, as if they'd been friends for years. More than friends, actually. The conversation had quickly gone down a path she never thought she'd discuss so freely with an adult in a text conversation. Not to say she wasn't enjoying it immensely; she found herself aroused and even told him about it. Covered by sheets and a blanket, Emily had drawn her legs up and had one hand under the covers, gently tracing the line that had grown damp on the outside of her green cotton boyshorts. She'd thought about Ted plenty of times while she fantasized, as well as several other older men. Some she knew in real life, others were favorite actors or singers, but all had that in common; they were old enough to be her father. When she confessed her "older man fantasy" to her best friend, Sierra's first comment was, "That's hot," but then it turned to friendly teasing about Emily having a "daddy fetish". Sierra was very much into fetishes and the kink lifestyle. She had a secret collection in her bedroom of toys and clothes that might make even her mother blush, if she were ever to find them. Emily had never specifically named Mister Ted, but Sierra knew she had a thing for him, much more than any of the other girls. She saw the way Emily watched him when he came into the church auditorium, never taking her eyes off him. As Emily texted with her free hand, she shifted in bed, causing the fabric of her loose-fitting tee shirt to slide across her breasts and tease her nipples slightly. They grew in response, and formed small peaks in the fabric of her shirt. She continued to shift her shoulders back and forth, seeing the effect the teasing had on her nipples, and increased the stroking on the outside of her boyshorts. She wondered if she could get away with going out without a bra one day, if the shirt was the right kind of fabric. She practiced the move more, noting how quickly her nipples reacted, and wondered about the reaction she might get if she could pull off the move in the presence of a man. Would he stare? Leer? Maybe make a comment? The thought of a man openly making a sexual comment made her even wetter. She had already told him she was wet, in response to his revelation that he was fantasizing about her, and although not directly saying it, she was pretty sure he was masturbating that very moment. "We're playing with ourselves and we're texting each other about it," she thought gleefully. Her friends shared stories about the fun times they had teasing boys and being teased back in return. Some even shared pictures, if their phones had a camera. She considered it. Emily>Hey can I send you a picture? (smile) Ted>Ummmm of what? (blush) Emily>Can't tell you hehe I have to show you (wink) Ted>Oh my goodness if you do that Ted>If it's anything like what I'm imagining I would be your best friend forever haha (big grin) Emily>OK just a sec Emily pulled the covers back and tried snapping a picture. On the third try she got one that satisfied her; a close-up shot of her hand down the front of her boyshorts. Nothing really could be seen, nothing "bad", she thought. But it was obvious what was going on in the image. She sent the picture to Ted's phone and waited. About a minute later, she got a reply. Ted>Oh. My. God. Ted>That... Ted>That is the most amazing picture I've ever seen Ted>THANK YOU (big grin) Emily>Hehe you're welcome (smile) Ted>Oh Lord I wish I could call you... Emily>Yeah? You can if you wanna I'm alone (smile) Emily>I mean my mom is home but she's nowhere near my room and the door is shut Ted>Oh God I'd love to I wish I could Emily>Go ahead then (smile) Ted>I can't I'm sorry wife is here Ted>Oh God she would kill me if she knew Emily realized if Ted's wife ever saw the picture it'd be disaster for Ted and Emily both, and she quickly typed her next message, so fast she didn't check for spelling. Emily>Omg no youd better delete it niw Emily>pls delete befpre she sees Ted>I already did it's okay Emily's short moment of panic quelled her arousal and she sat up in bed, her senses now so alert that she thought she could hear every sound in the house. No, her mother wasn't coming down the hall. Everything was normal. Everything was fine. Ted>Hey Emily>Yes? Ted>It's okay I deleted it. But thank you so much that was amazing! Emily>Hehe (smile) (blush) Ted>Wish I didn't have to delete it (sad face) I could use it later for...stuff. (wink) Emily>Haha you need to send me one back (wink) Ted>Oh God don't tempt me girl... Ted>The things I would do for you if I were younger... Emily>Yeah? (smile) Like what? (smile) Ted had never done anything like this. He'd been tempted at times to join chat rooms where strangers would usually pair off into private sessions and have what was popularly called "cybersex", but he never went any further than reading through the list of the names of the available rooms. What he was doing now was so removed from looking at pictures on his PC while enjoying a stroke. He had stopped touching himself as well, but already regretted deleting the picture, knowing something like that would probably never happen again. He knew he had gone down a dangerous path and contemplated just how much farther he would explore it. Ted>If I could get away later today, could I call you for just a few minutes? I've never done anything like this but I wish I could hear your vpice. He didn't catch the typo until he had sent the text, and cursed himself for it; but she didn't seem to notice, or care. Emily>Sure (smile) just text me first so I'll know Emily>No one hardly ever bothers me if my door is shut (smile) Emily>And if anyone comes in I'll say it's Sierra or somebody Ted>Okay. I need to do some stuff first but I'll text you before. (smile) Emily>Okay (smile) Ted>You're amazing (smile) Emily>hehe (smile) Ted>Bye for now Emily>Bye (smile) Emily deleted the conversation from her phone to be safe. Her parents never looked at her phone, or asked to, but she didn't want to risk this being the one time it happened. She opened her laptop and re-read the conversation from MySpace. Nothing bad there, just the offer to text. She left it. She got up, put the laptop and her phone on her dresser, and went to her door and locked it. Going back to bed, she slid out of the boyshorts, noticing the damp place. She stashed the shorts under her pillow, reached for the Gatorade on her nightstand, and took a sip, enjoying the cool feeling as it went down her dry throat. She laid back, and left the covers off. She looked down at her pale legs, which she hated. She thought her legs were fat, just like her ass, and most of the rest of her. Emily's self-image was distorted, by constant bombardment in advertising, film, and other popular media. Thin was sexy, fat was not. She was envious of girls like Sierra and Amy, and secretly enjoyed knowing at least she wasn't as big as Tawny. She'd never voice that out loud of course; she loved all her friends. Well, maybe Kayla was the exception; because Kayla had crossed Emily more than once by sharing secrets that should have been left untold. It was because of Kayla that everyone knew about the "lousy kisser" incident. After that, Emily promised herself she'd never trust Kayla with sensitive secrets ever again. She was now glad she hadn't texted anyone earlier about her MySpace chat with Ted, because if Kayla had heard, it'd be all over the youth group by now. Emily hooked her thumbs under the edge of her shirt, and slid it up over her breasts. Looking down over her almost-naked body, she wondered if any man would find her sexually attractive. "Maybe if they like chubby girls," she thought. In reality, Emily had a very sexy body by almost any standards. The 36" bustline was matched by 36" hips, and a 24" waist. The first time she heard "Brick House" she giggled when she heard the line, "make an old man wish for younger days". She let her fingers glide over her full breasts, teasing her nipples again. They responded and rose, and Emily circled each with a fingertip, watching how her pale skin reddened slightly at the tracks her nails made. This led her to try tracing lines on her breast, and then her belly. She watched how long the lines stayed, depending on how hard she pressed. She tried writing, but the lines faded before she could get much written. Then she pressed harder, hard enough to make her wince, and her sharp nails made thin welts on her skin. She noted that while painful, the sensation was also sexually arousing. She got up, and stood in front of her dresser mirror. She pulled the tee shirt over her head and looked at herself, imagining what a man would think of her like this; naked, and vulnerable. She tried writing again, on her thigh, pressing hard enough to leave a mark again. She made an "E" and she could see it in the mirror, although it was reversed and upside down. Looking in the mirror this time, going slowly and carefully, she scratched out three letters on her stomach, just below her breasts. T E D She looked down at the red lines, her skin tingling from the marks she had made. In some of the places she had pressed too hard and there was a tiny amount of blood. She looked back in the mirror. It was very easy to make out, very easy to read. She picked up her phone, aimed at her reflection, and took a picture. This time, she positioned the phone far enough that her full body was visible, but her face just out of frame. She took a second picture, closer, to make sure the name was visible. Taking the phone back to bed with her, she began to masturbate, while looking at the picture she had on her phone. She wanted more than anything to send the pictures to Ted, but knew that could cause massive problems if she didn't warn him first. She imagined how he would react at seeing her naked, not just a teasing picture this time, but actually seeing her boobs and pussy. Fully aroused now, she was no longer concerned that she might not be thin enough for Ted's tastes. She dropped the phone to the side. She imagined him stroking to the pictures she sent, wishing he could see her in person, just as she was in the pictures. She fantasized about them secretly arranging a meeting at a hotel some day and letting him undress her. She imagined him kissing her, so passionately that her lips ached, and him holding her so tightly he lifted her off the floor. In her fantasy, he roughly dropped her on the hotel bed, hungry for her, and quickly removed her clothes, and his own. Her fantasy lover started with kisses to her lips, but then quickly moved down her neck, and her breasts, licking, sucking, nibbling, even biting. She pinched her nipples with one hand as she imagined this, so hard that she gasped, and the pain, coupled with the fast strokes of the fingers of her other hand on her swollen clit brought her closer to orgasm. She slid a finger inside herself, then two as she pictured him roughly probing her with his own fingers. Now curving her fingers back into a hook, she roughly pulled up, fast and hard, wishing it were really Ted that was forcing his fingers deeper and deeper inside her. Now with two fingers inside and her other hand rubbing her clit, she whispered Ted's name out loud with each pull. Moving so fast her words ran together into one long sound, "Tedtedteh... tehhedtehteh... hehhededed", she rode the crest of the most powerful orgasm she had ever experienced. Eyes closed, breathing in gasps, covered in perspiration, her body shuddered. Her legs straightened completely and her feet pointed straight down. Her back arched so hard she'd realize later she had sprained the muscles. Once she relaxed, feeling the waves recede, and her breathing slowing, she opened her eyes and looked down at her naked body, now covered in sweat. Her belly barely showed the scratches now, but there were two small scrapes where she had pressed the hardest. She took a deep breath and sighed, and smiled. End of part four.