Let me set the scene; at the time i was a 15y/o (female) and had just started volunteering with a new a non-profit program dedicated to sheltering, rehabilitating, and otherwise reaching out to young & unwed homeless mothers along with their children. I have always wholeheartedly loved to give time to those in need and this was just one of many programs i participated in each and every month. The causes varied from human rights & advocacy, to politics, arts and culture, local fundraising, miltary families and animal or child care. Basically, any work i could get my little hands on. I will always believe that on a bad day, a really bad day; the key is in treating the world kinder than it has treated you. Being delt a hand that wasn’t exactly favorable (spent ages 10-16 in hospitals more often than not) i had to make some tough descions on how i wanted my life to continue going forward, life choices many people aren’t faced with until a lot older. However, volunteering helped me step back to see it could be much worse and so i stayed with what brought me that humbling realizaition that life s**** for everyone, with varying degrees of s***. But i digress. i must add for context that I was the only underage person there, which was not an uncommon occurence among these postions. i stand out among crowds generally, it seems, but only when it comes to my age i’m able to blend in with a sea of 20 something year olds without rasing any questions. In fact, people will almost always autmotically assume i am of age until i tell them otherwise in passing- to their surprise. Getting ID’ed is such a rare occurance i can confidently walk into an adult novelty “toy” store, comedy club, or smoke shop with my boyfriend that in turn produces a damn high success rate of passing for legal. For the most part, people dont seem to bother asking i guess, and so it was no exception with this until i had already been a few times. Since i was new to this program and its routine it was deemed i needed some sort of orientaion, along with a mentor to lead me through it. it was unspokenly decided by the higher-ups that the staggeringly tall greying man we will refer to as ‘K” would fill that position. more so even, despite the unanimous vote, it seemed to be fate long before then- a plan he had that didn’t need force behind it from anyone else. From the second i walked through the doors of that church he was welcoming, friendly and encourging beyond expectations. Important side note: Instead of drooling over boys my age like my friends and other peers, i thought a better target for my fantisies would be their dads, or even grandfathers. i fancied desprate married men with a craving for young flesh, beer bellies and hair plentifuly spread everywhere but their head in the form of a receeding hairline. yes, everything and anything that comes with being older; i’m not too picky. To elabortare; K was cacasian, his timeworn calused hands i noticed when grazed against mine. He was well built and burly, with a full head of gunmetal grey hair; brown pieces still peaking through. Blue eyes and a charming smile, you can only imagine my excitment on how much i was looking foward to partnering up with him when i found out. K was a man of authority over me, which both titilated and intimidated me. We shared a dynamic with a strong power-exchange, a balance of his natural dominance and leadership that organically awoke the most sumbissive and coy parts of me. As i worked through my 16th birthday,he would tease me playfully, make flirty comments; even find excuses to touch me. i could see his eyes scanning my every action in responce to his ‘game’. I loved to bake, so i would bring homeade sweet treats to brighten the day of the volunteers. He would say things like -paraphrasing- your muffins aren’t the only thing that’s sweet, wish i could eat you as well. He asked me if i had ever read the book ‘L*****’ to which i replied i hadn’t and then promptly went to my local library and bought it.
on my final gathering there, as the night drew to a close, my parents called and told me they were held up dealing with a small issue across town inolving a rental property they were landlords for, and when i broke the news to my group that they couldnt pick me up until hours after the event had ended K immediatly offered to stay behind with me and drive me home later. i told him i didnt want to impose,secretly praying he insisted further. He assured any worry by immediatley by telling me i couldn’t possibly be a bother if he willingly offered his “chauffeur services” to me. i “hesitantly” agreed, as my options were quite limited at that point. One after another, the volunteers packed up their things and left until it was only K and i siting qietly in the large sermon room in the heart of the church where it was all mainly held. i helped him (to the best of my abilities) unfold the tables and chairs and clean up the remaining mess. My phone buzzed, letting me know it was time to head to my place. He politley carried my **now empty** muffin basket to the car and as he swiftly guided my palm to the door handle under the dim light of the broken streetlamp he set it in the seat behind mine. He drove a modest Lincoln sports car, older model, and while i felt the car swallowed me up, he had to bend down to get in. As we headed on our way down the road we shared farouche small talk, and although i consider myself to be fairly well spoken, being alone in his presence caused my knees to buckle and i stumbled over few words gracelessly. We didnt have much time to talk when we saw each other in between watching over toddlers, catering, and organzing donation rooms but when i was lucky enough to get the chance to pick a postion i always chose the same station as him. In order to catch up, he seemed to do the same. Nonetheless this felt like the first time i really had the chance to pull him aside, distraction free, and pick his brain a bit and so the car ride felt infinitley long. As the conversation warmed up and grew cozy we laughed over stories of him being a real estate agent and how he was sympathetic to my parents excuse of not coming for me, which transitioned to talking and sharing more deatils of my personal life outside of these monthy events. About halfway home now, I confided in him for comfort on some things going on because i felt incredibly safe and heard. My previous assumption was correct that he was religious, we did meet at a church after all- so he said he would pray for me. That lead on to a discussion of a rough patch he was having with his wife, then somehow to the topic of my non-existent dating life at the time. He joked that he wasn’t my type- too old, too tall. Fairly enough from his perspective, standing around a foot taller than me and 49 years my senior.Little did he know…
I then proceeded to divulge in an act of ‘word vomit’, assuring him that he could easily pass for his early 30’s and that how having a tall partner has many perks for a short girl like myself. Only when i started to say i was single because i couldn’t have the type of men i wanted i started to realize what i was saying. I grew quiet and apologized profusely for coming off inappropriately. At this same time, we pulled up to the other side of the street across from my house and came to a stop. He turned to look at me for a moment, not breaking eye contact; i believe it was to see if i was joking around. He confessed over the quiet hum of the cars engine that i make him question his morals at times, and even his religious beliefs. “How old are you again?” He chuckled, to which i reminded him i was in fact 16. He told me that in his eyes, i wasn’t a little girl; but instead a grown woman. He said my softened edges and wise opinions promised that. He then rested his hand on my inner thigh casually as he spoke, with no resistance on my end. I was afraid to consider his motives because i couldn’t accept that maybe the fantasies i had spun in my head for months were becoming a reality. So i sat still looking up at him, hoping to come off as innocent as if i had never pictured the scenario i was in now before. His fingers trailed up under the hem of my dress as he looked off and went on about his pent up desire- blatantly now. As he reached the lace edge of my p****** he made direct eye contact and said “is this okay…?” I only nod keenly in response. ‘I want you to say it.” He said, careful not to inch any further. In another case of ‘word hurl’ i begged him to touch me, finally admitting to my lust over him aloud. I stutter out my words, overwhelmed with the feeling of wetness growing in between my thighs. He unbuckles his seatbelt and then the belt looped around his pants, his impressive member springing out. “are you sure about this?” he asks me, and i plead further for him to keep going. he simultaneously strokes his c*** as he rubs my little mound over the p****** “my my…you’re so wet” he practically moans out. I purr and whimper his name, careful not to make too much noise. This goes on until i shyly raise my hips, hook my thumbs in the waistband of my p****** and slowly shuffle them down my thighs and let them slip to my feet. I wait for his next move, spreading my legs a fraction. He slips two fingers inside me and i clench around him, soon after my o***** falls over me like a wave and my head falls back as i convulse with the force of it. “Look at me.’ He orders and i watch as his c*** tenses and his warm load shoots across his now exposed thighs. We sit breathing heavily in silence for a few minutes when i remember I’ve got to go inside before it gets any later. We both laugh, hard, in complete awe over what just went down. I tidy myself up and he teases that he’ll see me next month. When i climb out of the passenger seat, he calls me back over to point out a small wet spot where i was sitting. More laughter ensues, i thank him and he drives off. Over the next month i realized what we had done was wrong and very likely to continue in the future if i didn’t resist him. I didn’t want to drive a wedge between his wife or his religion, so i didn’t return the following month and I haven’t been since. lastly i will say it was fully consensual, i knew exactly what i was doing and so did he. Believe me or not, who cares? I really just wanted to get this off my chest.
