assi - Angela the Naughty Altar Girl 3.txt
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Subject: Angela the Naughty Altar Girl chapter 3 of 3 (Mf, incest, cons, pedo)
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Angela the Naughty Altar Girl chapter 3 of 3 (Mf, incest, cons, pedo)
Written by Janus
My next chance to touch myself in church came sooner than I expected.
After masturbating on the altar, I put away the robe and got dressed. When
I went to return the key to Father Terry in the rectory, he thanked me and
asked me if I could be the altar server for tomorrow's mass at 11 a.m. I
accepted, of course.
11 a.m. mass was very popular. It was usually the most crowded of all
the Sunday services because people never wanted to get up early for the 8
a.m. or 9:30 a.m. services. I thought about my masturbation session on
the altar and imagined the pews if it had been 11 a.m. mass. There would
have been an endless sea of faces looking at my naked body. The thought
made me shiver.
I went to bed that night thinking of the service and fantasizing madly.
I already knew I would be naked under the altar robe, hidden yet exposed
to
all the church-goers. I fell asleep and had dreams of being nude and
touching my button in church.
When I woke up in the morning, an inspiration was waiting for me when
I
opened my eyes. It was like my subconscious had formulated an idea and was
waiting for me to wake up so it could present it to me. Before I headed
to
the 11 a.m. service that morning, I slipped my mother's sewing shears into
my pocket.
Once in the church dressing room, I made sure I was alone before
grabbing the altar server robe and turning it inside out. Each robe had
a
pair of pockets at waist level. Pulling out the sewing scissors, I neatly
snipped the pockets off from the inside of the robe. Quickly, I got
completely undressed and put the robe on, right side out.
I examined my handiwork as I looked into a full-length mirror. The robe
extended to my ankles and my shoes and socks were partially visible. No
one would know I was naked underneath. Next I slipped my hands into the
waist pockets. My fingers brushed against my bare thighs.
It was perfect. By putting my hands in the robe pockets, I looked
perfectly innocent. But with a bit of maneuvering, my fingers could easily
reach between my legs. I carefully hid my pile of clothes and got ready
for the service.
Father Terry greeted me at the rear of the church. It was 11 a.m.
sharp but there were still people flowing in at a steady rate. Father
Terry motioned for me to pick up the altar cross, which was a cross set
atop a long pole that was taller than I was. I picked it up and we began
the procession down the main aisle leading to the pulpit as the choir began
the first hymn.
As we slowly approached the pulpit, my little heart thumped with
excitement. Finally we reached the pulpit and I placed the cross down next
to the altar and took my place next to Father Terry for the opening
welcome.
I swallowed hard as I turned to face the crowded pews. My skin tingled
against the rough cotton of the robe as I stood in my secret nakedness
before the hundreds of people. My face flushed slightly as I surveyed what
seemed to be an endless sea of faces. Men, women, small children,
teenagers, elderly people, all with their attention seeming to be focused
on me. The throngs of faces and the hushed noise of the crowd made this
experience totally different from when I was alone in the church.
The service went by in a blur. Each time I was called up to the pulpit,
the cool air flowed up underneath my robe as I walked, emphasizing my
nudity. I felt so exposed and naughty as I performed my altar server
duties.
It wasn't until midway through the mass that I got the chance to try out
the modified pockets in my robe. It was during a moment in the service
where everyone was supposed to kneel. I had my own kneeler off to the side
of the pulpit. The pews fanned nearly 180 degrees around the pulpit so
even though I was off to the side, there were still rows and rows of people
behind me.
As I knelt, I casually slipped both hands into my pockets. To my
surprise, my little button was wet. Very wet. Surreptitiously, I started
to diddle my button as I knelt. It felt so incredibly good to be touching
myself in public. My excitement rose as I imagined all the people staring
at my back while I secretly pleasured myself. Across the pulpit from me
was another bank of pews and occasionally I would make eye contact with a
stranger. It felt so wicked to touch myself like this!
I was already getting close to the good feeling when Father Terry moved
on to the next segment of the service. I had to go fetch the communion
bread and wine chalices and bring them up to the altar. Reluctantly I
pulled my hands from my pockets to perform my duties.
Next came the blessing of the bread and wine. At this point, I was
supposed to stand next to the altar, a little behind the priest as the
transubstantiation took place. The parishioners were still kneeling as
they watched Father Terry perform the blessings. My hands moved of their
own volition, slipping back into my robe pockets.
I could feel the blood rising to my face as my fingers resumed their
insistent rubbing of my little button. Each stroke of my little finger
felt so dirty and delicious as I secretly masturbated. My fingers were
getting very slick as I pleasured myself. A telltale hint of my wetness
wafted up from beneath my robe. The only person who might notice was
Father Terry and he was busy doing the blessings.
My eyes scanned the rows of faces as I drew nearer and nearer to the
good feeling. I took care to not disturb the front of my robe as my
fingers worked their magic on my privates. Each time my eyes made contact
with a parishioner's eyes, I would flush slightly and revel in the naughty
feeling. But I'll never forget what happened next.
During the blessing, Father Terry would take the large communion bread,
raise it high above his head, and chant a blessing before breaking it in
two. The bread was large and flat, about the size of a dinner plate, and
he would next break that into little pieces for all the parishioners. This
time, however, the communion bread slipped from his fingers as he held it
above his head. I saw it hit the ground and roll toward me. A murmured
hush swept across the pews as the parishioners saw what happened.
The circular bread kept on rolling and I turned my head to see it stop
several feet behind me. I turned my head and saw Father Terry looking at
me sheepishly. He didn't have to speak because I could tell from his body
language what he wanted me to do.
Hastily pulling my hands from my pockets, I scrambled to retrieve the
communion bread. It wasn't until I picked it up that I realized just how
wet my hands were with my juices. Embarrassed, I saw that my fingers were
glistening with my vaginal secretions. But it was too late now to wipe my
hands on my robe. I had already picked up the communion bread and smeared
the underside of it with my juices.
I turned the bread upside down and handed it back to Father Terry,
hoping he wouldn't notice that the underside was a little damp. Either he
didn't notice or he didn't care because Father Terry continued with the
blessing, breaking the bread into smaller pieces.
I watched wide-eyed as he raised a morsel above his head, blessed it,
and then put it in his mouth. His expression didn't change at all as he
chewed. I prayed to God that he wouldn't notice. He then turned to me and
offered me the Body of Christ. I had no choice but to accept it. I took
the communion host and put it in my mouth. As I chewed, I swore I could
sense the telltale taste of my girlhood.
Afterward, the communion assistants came up to help distribute the
hosts. I was supposed to remain by the altar and help out if the assistants
ran out of communion wafers or wine. People began lining up to receive the
Body and Blood of Christ.
I was still achingly horny though. My hands slipped back into my
pockets as I resumed my rubbing. I watched as people received communion
and passed no further than five feet from me, unaware that I was
frantically diddling my little button. I watched intently as the
assistants distributed the communion hosts, straining my eyes to see if any
were glistening or at least damp from my juices.
The thought of all these people tasting the slickness of my privates
added more fuel to the naughtiness building inside me. It became too much
as I rubbed hard against my button. Just before the good feeling came, my
eyes locked onto those of an old woman sitting in the front row. She was
watching me intently. Did she know? Was she aware of my fingers on my
privates?
I didn't care. I bit my tongue to keep myself quiet as an intense
orgasm shook my ten year old body. The parishioners continued to quietly
file past me, unaware of the powerful fireworks that were pleasuring every
inch of me. I gazed vacantly at the sea of faces before me as I stood
trembling in orgasm on the pulpit, knees buckling in bliss.
I did my best to breathe normally but I knew a thin layer of sweat had
formed on my forehead. My face and neck felt a little flushed as well.
I
pulled my fingers away from my throbbing little button. Taking a deep
breath, I tried to calm myself, this time taking care to furtively wipe my
slick fingers on my robe.
As communion drew to a close, I stood weak-kneed but satisfied as my
naked body recovered underneath my robe. I glanced from face to face in
the crowded pews. No one had any idea what had just happened. It made me
feel nice inside to have this special naughty secret that no one knew
about.
The rest of the service passed by uneventfully. I was too blissed out
in the afterglow to really do much. Thankfully, I had enough altar server
experience to perform automatically. Father Terry ended the service and
I
led us down the main aisle, carrying the cross again. As we walked, people
in the pews would smile at me for being such an cute and angelic altar
girl. I did my best to smile sweetly at them while reflecting on my naughty
masturbatory session.
Afterwards, Father Terry went to greet the parishioners as they exited
the church but I headed for the dressing room. As I slipped out of the
altar robe and put on my regular clothes, I happened to catch a whiff of
my
girlhood on my fingers. The scent was unmistakably strong and pungent.
I
wondered how many people noticed the unusual taste of communion this
Sunday.
Posted By Nikki
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