Chapter 9

Johnny Canning, his face disguised with a false beard and sunglasses, watched from his car as the young, blonde beauty parked her car on Main Street. Clete had told him to follow her, and he made no protest at the task. He still remembered the heavenly feel of her tight, young vagina on his stabbing cock, and the way she had let the dog fuck her and liked it.

Clete had been flabbergasted when Johnny had told him about the way Lobo had initiated Desirée to animal sex the way Nancy had been. He had fumed about it, cursing out his disgust, and then shook it off and told Johnny that he still intended to go through with his plan.

Whatever that was, Johnny mused.

He kept his eyes on Mark Denning's luscious and innocent fiancee.

Desirée felt herself full of dread as she knocked on the door of Pastor Hemmings office. It was his medical consulting office, for today was not Sunday and Hemmings was the only doctor in Pickford's Meadows. However, it was not medical attention she was looking for, but rather a salve for her aching conscience. No, it would not be a conference in the chapel's retreat, but a private talk in the medical consultation room. But she couldn't wait until Sunday.

The waiting room was empty when she got in. She waited until the door opened and a middle-aged woman, the last patient, came out. She smiled at Desirée, for she recognized her from church, but the girl's only reply was a shy smile as she looked down at the carpet. Dr. Hemmings' head stuck out around the door and he looked surprised.

"Desirée. Is there some problem?" He was surprised because the young beauty, boundlessly healthy, had never come in to see him for a medical consultation.

She waited until the woman had left, then without looking up, said to Hemmings, "I need to speak to you, Doctor. Pastor."

"Doctor today, my dear." He stood aside and gestured toward his examination room. "Please come in."

Desirée got up and went in, Hemmings following her. While he sat behind his desk, she sat on a chair, twisting a damp handkerchief in her hands.

"Desirée," he said, genuinely concerned. "What is it that's upset you?"

Desirée took a long time to find her voice, but then it all came pouring out. "Pastor Hemmings, I've done wrong. I had... I had sex... with a man."

Hemmings stared at her, unbelieving. He had always admired this most beautiful of young women with the divine singing voice and the perfect body. He could not deny that, watching her from the pulpit and at other times, his thoughts had been turned to desire for her pristine loveliness. It was at times distressing that he, who had been married for over twenty years, should be unable to control his thoughts at the sight of her always modestly-clothed body. Now, he felt a stab of jealousy that another man had sampled her, and he was sure that it was Mark Denning. At this point, he felt an unreasoning hatred for Mark, and at the same time felt his own loins stir at the mental image of the young man's body heaving and humping on top of hers.

Hemmings was aware that his eyes were making her uncomfortable. It was somewhat perverse that he used his silence and blank stare to increase the girls discomfort. "Can you tell me about it?" he asked, wanting to hear the details from her own ruby lips.

She nodded slowly. "That's why I came, sir," she said quietly. "I need to... to tell someone. I feel just terrible." Desirée bowed her head and a tear made a track down each cheek.

"Then, by all means, tell me, my dear."

Desirée took a long time to start speaking and her words came in sobs. "I was alone last night, and some men... some... some men... sneaked into my room. I didn't know them. They held me down."

Hemmings looked horrified. "You mean, you were raped?"

Desirée hesitated, then nodded. "I tried to resist at first, but then... but then... I liked... I liked it. It felt good." Her eyes turned up to meet his and she found them gentle and caring.

"Was that the first time, Desirée?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head slowly. "No, I've done it before. Mark and I are in love."

Hemmings knew he should let it go there, but he was curious. "Can you tell me exactly what happened? Did all of them do it to you?"

"Just one. The others watched."

Hemmings nodded, understanding. "Tell me, did he penetrate you fully?"

Desirée's eyes were fixed on her lap. "Yes."

"All the way inside you?"

"Yes."

"In your vagina."

Desirée winced. "Yes."

"His penis in your vagina. Was his penis large, or small?"

Desirée's eyes turned dewy as she remembered. "Large. Very large."

Quietly, Hemmings pressed on. "And you enjoyed it?"

"Not at first. He was so big. But then, yes, it felt very good."

"Do you think he's damaged you, with such a large penis, I mean?"

Desirée looked suddenly frightened. She had said nothing about Lobo, and she knew his penis was much larger than the rapist's. Much, much larger. Was it possible that Lobo had torn her, ruined her somehow for Mark? Would Mark ever want to touch her again when he found out about all that had happened last night?

"I don't know," Desirée answered. "Do you think he could have?"

Hemmings nodded slowly. "It's quite possible. There are diseases to worry about. And pregnancy. I assume you're not on the pill. Why don't you step over there behind the screen and get undressed so I can examine you."

Desirée rose slowly. She was quite timid about the thought of disrobing in front of the Pastor, but now she was worried. She moved behind the screen and began to undress.

"There's a gown on a hanger. It's one of those things that's open at the back. Put that on."

When she was naked, she did put it on, then came out holding it closed in back. Hemmings had her sit up on the examining table.

"I'm going to check your breasts," he said, moving his hands through the arm-holes until her could heft her perfect globes.

Desirée felt a tingle all the way to the nape of her neck when his hands gently palmed her big, firm tits.

"Any pain?" he asked quietly.

"No," she answered in a little girl voice.

His fingers found her nipples and stroked them a few times. He was amazed at how quickly they erected. He heard her give a little grunt. He stroked them a little more, unable to stop himself.

"Okay, Desirée, I'd like to examine your genitals. Could you step down and turn around and lean forward over the table?"

The girl slid off. Hemmings knew that this was not the orthodox position for a vaginal examination, but he wanted to see other things as well. Yes, he wanted to see every part of her.

Desirée supported herself on her arms over the table, the perfect moons of her bottom thrust enticingly backward. Hemmings parted the folds of the gown and caught his breath. What a beautiful butt the girl had. He was going far beyond the limits of his calling as pastor or doctor, he knew, but he stroked his hands tenderly over her asscheeks and down the back of her thighs.

"I'm looking for bruises," he said in a low voice, then ran his fingertips up and down the cleft of her buttocks. She was delicious, irresistible, and he knew he was overstepping the bounds of both his professions, but he couldn't stop touching her. His hands trembled as he parted her buttocks. "Relax," he said when she tensed, and she did, letting him separate the cheeks and look between. Her anus was a tiny vermilion-pink dimple, almost smooth and perfect like the rest of her. She must eat properly with plenty of fiber, he thought, for her bottom hole had suffered no dietary abuse. He touched the dry sphincter and saw it twitch defensively.

Anointing his index finger with a surgical lubricant from a tube, he slid it gently into her rectum, feeling her warmth close around the digit, gripping him. Damn, she was sexy and innocent.

"Is there something there?" she asked in a small voice, causing her asshole to clench at his finger. "They didn't touch... that."

Hemmings drew his finger almost all the way out, then pushed in again, then out and in. "I'm just testing," he said ambiguously.

Desirée felt chills of wild sensations shoot up to the back of her neck and reflexively she pushed her anus back to engulf his intruding digit. It felt strange, but good. How could it feel good? There must be something wrong with her. Hemmings kept up his gentle thrusting in and out, and Desirée felt herself loosing conscious control of her actions. Her hips began moving as she felt her pussy begin to tingle and moisten. Yes, there was something wrong with her. She was enjoying this intimate examination and she shouldn't be. Her butt continued with its involuntary shuttling motion, her flesh grabbing at his finger.

Hemmings felt his cock begin to stir in his pants. He had not felt like this for years. He had never strayed in his marriage, but this choir girl - this beautiful, innocent, virginal choir girl - was turning him on in a way he had never believed possible. He shifted his legs and felt his penis shift and rise in his trousers.

Finally, Hemmings drew his finger free of her anal grip while Desirée gave a tremulous sigh. "I think I should take a specimen." He found a swab and lowered himself behind her, staring straight into her vagina. It was as perfect and unfucked-looking as the rest of her, the labia amply covered with silky, honey-blonde tendrils of hair that lay like combed cotton threads on the soft, tender lips. He used two fingers to gently open the tiny hole, which stretched tautly until he could see the pink inner flesh. He looked inside, where no one had ever seen before, saw the trickle of creamy, white semen. With the swab, he took a sample, put it in a small bottle and stored it in the refrigerator.

"There was semen, Desirée," he said.

Desirée, unsteady and pink-cheeked from his attentions, peered over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose, but said nothing. She waited docilely, supported by her elbows, while the doctor got a rubber tube and bag of warm water. He held a basin under her while he inserted the tube and syringe into her vagina and douched out the residue of the man who had come, ejaculated into her the night before. His cock stayed hard while the water flowed back out of her cunt into the basin. As the soothing liquid flowed into her, Desirée moaned and shivered.

Hemmings saw her reaction, saw the big melons of her tits quivering and shaking as she did. Setting the paraphernalia aside, he stepped back up behind her, undoing the tie string at the back of her neck. The gown slipped forward, puddling on the table. She was now essentially naked before his eyes. He ran his fingertips lightly over her, then again into the cleft of her bottom, across her asshole, perineum, to her freshly-washed pussy hole. His finger slipped in there, felt the moistness of the water give way to the growing flow of slippery lubricant. One educated finger dipped down to touch her already swelling clitoris and he saw her whole body jerk.

"Does that hurt?" he asked.

"No... no, not at all? Am I all right?"

"We'll see in a little while if you've been injured or not." He moved his middle finger's tip to her clit and began to manipulate it in a way that made lightning bolts of pleasure lance through the girl's perfect, hot body. Yes, she was hot all right. Again. She kept getting hot and she couldn't control it.

Hemmings saw her spongy hips begin to rotate in time to his caress. She couldn't stop herself, and neither could he. He felt his cock begin to leak, felt the heat building up in his pants. With his free hand, he rubbed his painfully stiff penis, then gave in to his compulsion and unfastened his belt and slid down his zipper. His prick was on fire and there was only one way he could quench the flames. He couldn't help himself, he had to take the risk.

Desirée felt the flat of his hand rubbing over her puffy vaginal mound, felt his fingers part the fat lips. His middle finger slid into her cunt and she moaned, her mind leaving her and giving way to sensual feelings that seemed overwhelming.

With a deep sigh, Hemmings grasped his big, throbbing, leaking cock and directed it toward Desirée's oozing vagina. He felt the vulval ring resist, then yield, allowing his cockhead to squeeze inside.

Desirée felt her pussy stretch, felt something slip deeper and deeper into her fiery hole. It must be two fingers, it was so much bigger than one. Her whole body shuddered and she moaned loudly. It was big and it felt good, whatever he was doing to her. Three fingers? Why was he making her feel so good inside? She trusted him, and he was making her feel good. It kept pushing into her, deeper, and then pulling out. In and out, many times.