TG ARCHIVES;'Erica Unleashed in High School #6'{EricA}( F^B teen1 tg )[6!6]
"Erica Unleashed"
Erica Unleashed - Chapter 6
To keep you, our loyal (and perhaps somewhat perverted) readers from getting bored, we have decided to do things a bit differently this installment. Don't worry if it's confusing at first ... just keep reading and you'll catch on soon enough.
The disclaimers still apply. If you're starting with this chapter in the story of Erica, the teen transsexual temptress, it's a dumb thing to do, so go back to chapter one and do it right.
And support nifty financially, or else Alice's Awesome Anecdotes (and my own small contribution as well) will have to find a new home, and you'll spend the rest of your pathetic existence searching the world (wide web) for the next installment to Erica's story.
I had the dream again.
To say "the" dream doesn't mean to imply it's always identical - but the dreams all have a common theme. One not appropriate for a Minister of the Gospel.
They started early on in high school, a result of a little too much AD&D and other roleplaying games. I was a holy warrior, a paladin, the good guy defender of all that is righteous and just. Usually the setting was some medieval fantasy, but it could just as easily take place in Puritan New England
or present-day wherever I was living at the time or even futuristic outer space. And the common theme was a woman. Seductive and evil. I would stand up to opposing armies and hideous monsters without fear and make short work of them... but the woman - the femme fatale - was someone I couldn't beat. She knew my weaknesses and knew just how to exploit them. She would have me on my knees, worshiping her very essence, preventing me from fulfilling my mission. Sometimes, she WAS the mission. Stop her. Eliminate Her. But against Her, I always failed.
"She" was always inspired by real women - often a celebrity, but sometimes a real woman in my life. She was Jane Badler in "V". She was Mrs Green, my tenth grade English teacher. She was Faye Dunaway in "Wicked Lady". She was Lisa my next door neighbor growing up. If I commanded the Earth's defense forces, she would seduce me for the codes to turn off the defense shields. If I was captain of the Royal Guard, I'd reveal to her the secret passage into the palace. If she was Jezebel, I was Elijah, on my knees before a shrine to Baal and telling her the location of the hidden prophets of God.
See, not really appropriate for a minister.
The closest I came to meeting "her" for real was with a lady who would come into Dad's store. For a while we lived in a small town where my family owned and operated a small "general store" (although the term is applied loosely) - sort of a convenience store that wasn't part of a chain. I was 17 and
had already decided I was on my way to seminary after graduation. She must have been about thirty, and virtually perfect all over. Long dark hair, a exotic facial features, and always with just enough cleavage exposed to draw all the attention she wanted, but never enough to be called "inappropriate". She drove a shiny black Firebird and wore a wedding ring, though I never saw her with a man.
The first time she came into the store, it was to buy picnic supplies - sodas and chips and napkins and disposable plastic utensils. I was alone in the store, at the register. Somehow, the plastic flatware hadn't been marked with a price tag, so when she asked how much they were - holding them up so they were in line between my eyes and her cleavage, I just mumbled since there was no price tag, she could have them for free. I knew it was only a few cents, it wouldn't break us, and I knew I'd be enjoying memories of her for several nights thereafter.
The next time she came in (perhaps a week later) she brought only one item - a case of Coke - to the register. I was again the only one working. Only this time, she very blatantly peeled the price tag off the case and dropped it on the floor, then leaned forward so her breasts were practically laying on the cokes and asked how much they cost. The smile she gave me was positively evil. Predatory. I was trembling (I remember that part very clearly) and my voice was breaking as I told her they were free.
I was rewarded with a wink ... and a nice view of her ass in a very tight skirt as she wiggled her way back to her car and drove away. I'm pretty sure that in the year before I want away to college, I must have given her over
two hundred dollars worth of merchandise from the store.
It was worth every penny.
I didn't get rid of the pictures I secretly took of her until the day before I married Amanda.
The dreams didn't stop immediately after I married the love of my life. I was in that awkward place where I knew if I prayed for help I'd get the help I needed ... but the part of me that enjoyed the fantasy wouldn't allow me to. After about five years of marriage, in a particularly honest moment, I confided my fantasy to Amanda, and she prayed for me. Now we've been married 12 years and I can't even remember the last time I had the dream.
Until last night.
I was the general on the great white horse, leading an army to defend my godly kingdom against a barbarian hoard led by ... it was rumored ... a 14 year old pagan princess. My army was larger, better trained, better armed. And in all modesty, better led. How DARE this little pagan bitch even dream of invading! Under the guise of a parlay to "negotiate" her turning her army around and going back home, I was seriously considering taking her hostage and giving her ass a good spanking - not in a sexual way of course, but as would be appropriate for a disobedient child. Then, perhaps, sending her to a convent to live out the rest of her years in service to the one true God.
A tent was set up in the field separating our two armies. We would meet inside, just the two of us, to discuss the possibility of avoiding a war. I went in confident I would prevail. What does a 14 year old girl know of negotiating matters of state, leading an army, standing up to an experienced warrior? Once inside the tent, however, things began to change.
There was an altar set up in a corner, to one of her pagan gods. Well, a goddess, actually, with accentuated hips and breasts ... I could only imagine
what she was goddess of. Incense was burning all around the shrine ... a strange odor, both pungent and sweet... and I was vaguely aware of the very light sound of wind chimes strategically placed so as to sound when the slightest breeze found it's way inside. She greeted me with all the right words, as if the barbarian princess had somehow been schooled in the courtly arts .. using the correct forms of address, telling me how honored she was that I would grace her humble tent with my illustrious presence ... even mentioned referred to me as the hero of this battle and that... But her breasts. Too distracting, being out on display in that "armor" she wore which would provide virtually no protection at all in battle.
After a few seconds of silence, I realized it was my turn to reply ... and I couldn't remember what to say. Knowing I had to say something, I mumbled some sort of greeting and welcomed her to the kingdom. Then I saw it.
That predatory smile.
A thousand silent voices - a host of angels no doubt - screamed at me to turn and run. Run back to the safety of my lines. Prepare my army for immediate battle. Instruct my chaplain to pray fervently for my ability to maintain a clear head. Already, I was starting to feel ... different. Unsteady. Confused.
"I understand your kingdom's pomegranate harvest was something of a disappointment this year, general. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to share some of mine with you?"
I nodded, but remained dumb for a few seconds before speaking. "That would be ...." Before I finished my response, she cut one in two with an ornate double edged dagger. Instead of handing me half.. she held them both above her breasts and squeezed... I watched, mesmerized, as the juices covered her
luscious breasts ...
"Well? ..... They're not going to lick themselves" she whispered, moving closer and with a single finger on my shoulder, directed me to my knees.
In two days, everyone in the kingdom would know I was the one who betrayed them to this pagan princess. It would be fairly obvious as she rode my own horse (a gift to me from the king) into the palace with me, naked, being lead by a leash. If not for my betrayal, how could my whole army have been defeated by such a small band of barbarians? If not for me, how could they know of the secret passage into the castle? If not for my betrayal, how could her guard have known of the secret hiding place of the royal family deep within the palace.
Today was an unseasonably cool day, which is why I had the window in my upstairs study open as I was working on next Sunday's sermon. That's why I heard her call out so clearly to my children. I rushed to the window for a glimpse. Just one glimpse of Erica .. the 14 year old temptress next door. Closer in age to my own children than to me. I would never.. never.. dream of actually doing anything physical with a minor. But still... the dream...
I should pray about it.
But I won't.
I wonder if Erica might be interested in babysitting for us some evening.
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It's odd, I thought to myself. I had that dream again.
Grace has been over for the last several nights "studying," at least that's what she's been telling her father. She's been bringing dinner each night, as expected. Her brother Patrick always drops her off, but the last 2 nights the sexual tension has been getting more palpable, again, as expected. He gets heated up by the girls and heads home in a bit of a tizzy...probably
rubbing one off as soon as he gets home, no doubt....I love me!
Grace has been practicing her make-up and hair and can almost get it right, but she still needs a bit more instruction and practice. I've been making her play dress-up and modeling the lingerie Stephanie sent home with Donna and me last weekend as I practice making Grace more and more comfortable getting naked. She hasn't yet seen me in all my glory...yet. I'm waiting for the right moment to spring THAT surprise on her and I don't think it will be much longer...primarily because I'm tired of giving and not getting - that's not in my nature.
I've been licking her pussy for 3 days now and you'd think that I'd be dreaming of fucking the little ginger girl silly. But, no. I keep having this dream of being in some sort of tent. I'm being bathed by a group of women - washing my hair, cleansing my luscious titties and being sucked off. Before I can cum, I hear a thunder of hooves approaching. My handmaidens hastily dress me in a flowing gown and put on some sort of armor over the diaphanous fabric hiding my nakedness. It's not armor that would protect me in a battle, but more of a show of strength to my visitors. The armor pushes my breasts closer together, creating a mass of cleavage that could hide a small person.
The incense is lit and a small quick prayer is made to the goddess as the sound of arrogant male voices outside the tent both annoy and amuse my handmaidens.
I know that this so-called powerful chieftain sees me as a simple 14 year-old girl, not a equal and certainly not a superior. Let him think he has the upper hand. He will come to know that, in the end, he exists to only worship me. He approaches and I offer a slight smile, a predatory smile.
My smile had apparently caught him off guard and he said, in a voice more timid than he'd intended, "Ahhh, Welcome to our kingdom, my lady. We have much to discuss, you and I." The bastard - didn't even offer up a proper response to my courtly greeting. I'll make him pay extra for his arrogance.
"Yes, we do. But first, I understand that your kingdom's pomegranate harvest was something of a disappointment this year, general." I suppress a smile, knowing the potion that spread disease to their pomegranate orchards could easily be modified to destroy any manner of crop. "Would you do me the honor of allowing me to share some of mine with you?" As he nodded dumbly, I
took an enormous ornate dagger that had been strapped to my thigh and sliced the fruit in two halves. A handmaiden had unstrapped my breastplate and I stood before the chieftain in my white gown.
Instead of offering a half to him, I squeezed both halves of the fruit onto my chest. The red juices stained my gown and made the fabric completely transparent. Grasping the neckline of my gown, I ripped the fabric aside exposing the soft pillows of my breasts and the hard little beads of my erect nipples. Thrusting my chest forward and approaching him, I said, "Well...they're not going to lick themselves."
With a single finger I touched his shoulder. I increased the pressure of my touch indicating that he should kneel before me. I began to open the folds
of my gown to display the object he would worship...
RRRRIIINNNGGGGG!!!
Dammit! I hate that alarm clock. I've gotten to this point in my dream each of the last 2 nights and always the alarm clock begins its incessant ringing.
Stretching and yawning I greet the late summer morning and begin another day of school. Going to the window of the bedroom that Donna and I share, I look out on the early morning. Since the bedroom is on the back corner of the house, I can see into the backyard of our next-door neighbors, the Heath family. The Reverend Heath is up early this morning sitting on the patio with a cup of coffee and a sheaf of papers in his hand...no doubt working on a sermon for this week's service.
It dawned on me that Rev. Heath was the chieftain in my dream! A slight smile formed on my lips ... a predatory smile.