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I was collecting for our local church charity one evening when the rain began to fall. Determined to raise the most money, I ignored the water penetrating my dress.
The cold had begun to soak into my bones when I knocked on the final door. A man answered. Surprise lit his features as he took in my appearance. He was wearing a fluffy white robe, and I was envious of the warmth that seemed to radiate from him.
He was much older than me. I had only just turned 18. He was slim and bald but not unattractive. The brightness of his smile provided some comfort.
“I’m c-c-collecting for the church.” My teeth chattered. He nodded in acknowledgement.
“Of course you are. Come inside whilst I grab my cheque book.” He opened the door further, and retreated into the hallway. “It will only take a second,” he called over his shoulder, seeing my hesitation.
Despite myself, I followed him. My better judgement told me I shouldn’t follow a strange man into his home, but the cold was becoming unbearable and it was a long walk back.
As we entered the large open-plan kitchen, warmth began to creep back through my limbs. The roaring fire at one end of the room was too tempting to walk past, so I stood in front of it, staring at the sofa and the arrangement of cushions between me and the gentleman.
As he turned away from the kitchen counter and back towards me, cheque in hand, he looked astonished.
“You look soaked!” he exclaimed, approaching me. “Why don’t you take a seat and warm up before you head back out.” His words were soft and the fire was tempting. “We can have a chat,” he offered.
“Okay.” I nodded slowly. Staying for ten minutes wouldn’t hurt, would it?
The man poured two glasses of whisky from a decanter on the kitchen side. He bought them over and handed me one as I settled onto the sofa. He sat next to me.
He sipped his whisky. I didn’t touch mine, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“What was your name, Sister…?” he enquired, his blue eyes studying my face.
“Lily, my name is Lily,” I said, clearing my throat. He smiled appreciatively.
“Well, it is nice to meet you, Lily. I’m Tom.” Tom let the silence stretch for a moment, and when I didn’t offer up any conversation he turned to me again.
“You seem awfully young to be a Nun, Lily,” he said softly.
“My parents put me in the convent when I was 16—two years ago now. I get that, a lot.” Talking about my parents always made me uncomfortable. Finally, I sipped from my glass.
“Can I make a suggestion?” he asked. Startled, I looked at him. I nodded once.
He pointed at the dress I was wearing.
“That isn’t going to dry whilst you are wearing it. Why don’t you take it off?” he asked innocently.
I considered his words for a moment, knowing where it would lead if I were to remove my clothes. A strange feeling seemed to fill me, though. I had never done anything spontaneous. I had never been naughty.
Knocking back the remaining whisky in my glass, I stood and pulled my dress over my head.
In my white cotton knickers and my plain white bra, I stood facing Tom. His smile broadened. I felt like I had just bungee jumped off a cliff.
Slowly, he rose to his feet in front of me, taking my balled up, sodden dress from my one hand, and my empty glass from my other. I placed them both on the floor.
“Can I touch you, Lily?” His voice was gruff. Staying very still, I nodded slowly and closed my eyes.
“Has anyone else ever touched you?” he asked. I shook my head in response.
“I’ll be gentle then,” he murmured. His hands were warm as he trailed them lightly up my arms. I shivered and my skin prickled in response.
Every fibre in my body was awake, anticipating the places he might touch. I had never experienced anything so intense.
His warm gaze took in every inch of my body. His hands grazed my boobs, my hard nipples, raising goosebumps everywhere.
He stroked the wetness of my white cotton panties and I sighed, anticipation and pleasure creeping through me. He moved the thin material to the side. He stroked me. My pussy was wet and ready for him.
I had a feeling there would be a lot to confess.