by Luna Starr
As for me, I wasn’t so sure how good a role model I was, considering I’d given Tommy a hand job in the Jacuzzi, and I’d taken off my top and he’d cum all over my tits. In fact, I was starting to think I was the one in need of a good role model. And Tommy Jacobs was certainly not that. If I were being honest with myself, neither was his father. But that didn’t change the fact that I still lusted after both of them. At night, it was all I could do to read my Bible and pray on my rosary that I wouldn’t be visited by images of them both naked and doing unmentionable things to me. And yet, every night, it was always the same. My subconscious tempted me with dreams of Tommy and his father taking me together, touching me, kissing me and sliding into me as I screamed for more.
I was sick and depraved. There was something wrong with me because no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop the feelings, I couldn’t stop the dreams and I couldn’t stop thinking about Tommy and his father. I was so ashamed, I couldn’t even bring myself to admit to my sinful thoughts during confession. Instead, I just sat there and kept my lips zipped and then felt doubly guilty afterward.
And even now, after doubting the sincerity of Mr. Jacobs’ reasons for wanting to help with my ministry work, I felt guilty. Still, I was hopeful that his reasons had everything to do with me and nothing to do with his own goodness, charity and generosity. I was really sick. The sooner I trained this rebellious, naughty, out of control side of me, the better. I was sure that good girls didn’t think like I thought. I was sure that good girls had no problem choosing the devout and pious path. I was sure that good girls didn’t wake up every morning with their cunts saturated from dreaming about taking a father and a son’s dick at the same time.
I, Jessica Gibson, was not a good girl. Of that, I was fairly convinced.
And when I felt Mr. Jacobs’ hand on my upper thigh underneath the table, I nearly shot right out of my seat. I glanced at Tommy but he hadn’t noticed because he was so engrossed in eating his prime rib, grumbling about how unfair his father was being in forcing him to go to Africa. And my parents had no clue that the older man’s hand was on my thigh. Instead, they were happily chirping away about all the wonderful things the three of us were going to see and how our work was going to help so much.
I couldn’t look at Mr. Jacobs because I didn’t want to draw attention to what he was doing. Instead, I just sat there and chewed my meat and tried not to notice how my pussy was already juicing. Mr. Jacobs carried on, chitchatting with my parents like nothing was going on; meanwhile, he continued to edge his hand up my thigh even higher. Thank God there was a longish tablecloth on top of the table because it was doing a great job of hiding what was going on. When his hand reached the top of my leg, he inched it over and then dropped it down so he was touching my cunt on top of my pants. He started rubbing my clit above the fabric as I felt myself gush. I was sure my pussy juice was drenching my through my pants because I hadn’t bothered to wear panties but I also couldn’t say I really cared because Mr. Jacobs’ fingers felt incredible.
I wanted nothing more than to unzip my pants so he could slide those thick and long fingers inside my dirty little chamber, so he could feel for himself how slick and wet my passageway was getting. But I didn’t. Instead, I just sat there and let him fondle me on top of my pants. But when he started fumbling with my top button and then undoing, it started inching my zipper down, I coughed just so no one would be able to hear it.
“Are you all right, Jessie?” my mom asked as she looked at me with concern in her big brown eyes.
“Yes,” I said as I reached for my glass of water and Mr. Jacobs worked his fingers inside my pants. From the corner of my eyes, I could see his expression of surprise once he realized I hadn’t worn panties, but then he just pushed his fingers deep inside my pants, his knuckles rubbing up against my clit. I continued to hold the glass of water because I was afraid my hands would start shaking otherwise and I also made sure to keep my mouth full of food because otherwise, I was afraid I’d start moaning.
I didn’t know how he did it, but Mr. Jacobs continued carrying on the conversation like it was no big deal, meanwhile he was rubbing my clit with his index finger up and down and round and round. I could feel how swollen my cunt lips were and by now I was also sure I was leaking pussy juice all over his seat which embarrassed me slightly. Until he worked his index finger down to my hole and started caressing my opening. I shifted in my seat, sitting up a bit and leaning back so I could give him better access to my filthy cunt hole. And he took advantage of my offering by sticking the very tip of his finger inside of me. Meanwhile, he continued to rub my clit with his thumb. I was so close to orgasming, but I was afraid to, afraid that if I did, my face would give me away or I’d make some obvious noise.
But when Mr. Jacobs pushed his finger into me, up to his second knuckle, I ground down on it, spreading my legs as far as my pants would let me as he flicked my clit back and forth with his thumb. I creamed all over his finger, my pussy lips spasming around it as I came. I wasn’t sure how I did it, but I managed not to make a single sound. But I was panting so I reached for my glass of water once more to hide the fact that I was out of breath and I downed a few gulps. Meanwhile, Mr. Jacobs pulled his big finger out of me and pretending to drop something on his lap, he took his finger that was covered with my cunt juice and shoved it into his mouth, sucking all of me off and into his mouth.
“Well, Jessica and Tommy, cheers to our trip to Africa,” he said as he grinned broadly at me and held up his glass.
Chapter Eight
Grey
“Grey, what’s gotten into you?” Tommy asked as he faced me. When it was just the two of us, he had taken to calling me Grey instead of Dad. Jessica and her parents had just left and now Tommy and I were going to have the conversation I’d been meaning to have with him. “Africa?” He shook his head as he reached for the bottle of wine and poured himself a glass. Yes, he was underage but I didn’t care if he drank as long as he didn’t drive. I figured if kids in France could do it, then so could Tom. “Missionary work, really?” he demanded.
I cocked my head to the side as I chuckled and leaned back into my chair, taking another sip from my glass of wine. “I thought it would do you a world of good to see how blessed you are to live the life you do.”
“I know how lucky I am,” Tommy started to argue as he left the room and returned a minute or so later with a bag of Oreo cookies. “I don’t need to fly all the fucking way to Africa to know that!”
“You’ve been given everything on a silver platter, Tom, and I believe it’s about time you gave something back.” I reached over and demanded a few Oreos to which he begrudgingly handed me a few.
“Okay, I get all that but couldn’t I do that in this country?” Tommy asked, eyeing me suspiciously as he reached for his glass of wine again. Oreos and wine weren’t a great mix but it seemed neither of us cared. “And why do I think there’s more to this little… situation than you’re letting on?” I didn’t say anything as he further studied me. “I know you well enough to know when you’re up to something.”
I chuckled again and then sighed as I swirled the red libation around the crystal glass. “What’s your interest in Jessica?”
“My interest in Jessica?” Tommy repeated, looking and sounding baffled as he munched another Oreo. “How much did you have to drink at dinner, Grey?”
“Ha ha, Tommy. Just answer the damn question.”
“Why?” he asked as he eyed me askance, a smile still riding on his lips. “Was all of this a cover because you’re trying to set me up with her?”
“Hell no,” I answered as I shook my head, thinking it ironic that I was trying to do the exact opposite. “You really think my plan is to set you two up now? Especially when you’re set to leave for college soon and so is Jessica? Not to mention that once you’re in college, you’re going to be swimming in women?”
“Very true,” Tommy continued as he eyed me narrowly, obviously still trying to guess my gam
e. “So what do you have up your sleeve then?”
“Just answer the question!” I demanded, giving him a big grin which he returned. I really did love the fact that Tommy and I could have conversations like this, a conversation which represented our tight relationship as a whole. I’d always made it a point not to be the overly strict parent. Instead, Tommy and I had an almost friendly relationship but we both respected one another and we were very close because of it.
“Do you want the P.C. answer or do you want the real answer?” Tommy asked as he downed another Oreo and finished his glass of wine.
“Really, Tom?” I asked with a frown. “You know I’m never interested in the P.C. form of anything. Come on now—you and I are more like friends than we are father and son,” I said with a shrug. “A good example being the shape this house was in when I came back from my trip.” I frowned at him as he inhaled deeply, trying to hide his smile because he knew I was right. “Did I give you any shit at all about the broken lamp or the stains on the Aubusson?”
“No,” Tommy said as he nodded, his smile breaking into a wide grin. “And, Grey, I really am sorry about that.”
I waved him away with a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard all that before.” Then I yawned, just for the hell of it. “The point is that you don’t have to cover with me. I want the truth, whatever it is.”
“Okay.” Tommy shrugged. “I’ve never really noticed Jessica much before. She was always one of the prudish, smart girls. You know—the ones you try to sit next to in class so you can copy their test answers?”
“Of course,” I responded with a laugh as I shook my head. Tommy was exactly the same as I’d been when I was his age. “That’s my boy.” Then I rolled my eyes as he frowned at me.
“Anyway, I only really started to notice her in the last year or so.”
“Let me guess, was that about the same time that she got that crazy figure?” I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest and eyed him levelly. As soon as I started to think about Jessica’s amazing figure, I started salivating. Yep, I wanted the girl bad. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d lusted after a woman like this.
“Probably about that time,” Tommy answered with a laugh as he shook his head, sighed, and poured himself another glass of wine. “She’s freakin’ smokin’! I’m sure you’ve noticed, even if you are an old bastard.”
“Your old bastard of a father does quite well when it comes to women, I’ll have you know,” I rebutted, as he held up his hands in a play of submission.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I have to hear about how hot you are from all the chicks at school and their fucking mothers.” He took a sip of his wine. “It’s enough to make me want to puke.”
“Back to the point, Tom,” I insisted.
“I forgot what the point was,” he said as he laughed. The kid was handsome—there was no denying that. And he had my dominant personality and charisma. He’d go far in life, just like I had. I was proud of him, even if he had fucked up along the way. But that was what growing up was for—getting into trouble, being irresponsible and enjoying life when you’re young before the real responsibility of adulthood kicked in.
“What are your feelings toward Jessica?” I reminded him.
“Well, I think she’s hot and I would love to bang her, but other than that, I’m headed to college and she’s headed to college and we both are following totally different paths.”
“Hmm,” I said as I studied him, secretly pleased to hear this because it meant he wasn’t thinking about her seriously. I was. And, yes, I knew how completely ludicrous it sounded but I couldn’t help it. I wanted Jessica and I was determined to have her. For a very long time.
“So, you don’t want to date her?” I repeated, just to make sure I’d understood him correctly, just to make sure the coast was clear.
“No!” Tommy reiterated. “I don’t want to date anyone! And, if we are on the topic of other things I really don’t want to do—going to fucking Africa is at the top of the list,” he added and threw me a glare.
“Well, get used to disappointment, Tom,” I responded with a wide grin. “Because Africa is calling and I’ve answered for the both of us.”
Chapter Nine
Jessica
The single-engine Cessna descended from the fluffy clouds and began circling the tree-lined airfield below. I saw macaques scattering into the rainforest that surrounded the mud-puddled landing strip, which precariously seemed to stretch the length of three football fields. Sister Janice’s shoulders touched mine as we sat scrunched in the plane’s small cabin. She quickly gestured the sign of the cross and began muttering the Lord’s Prayer underneath her breath while keeping her eyes tightly closed.
But my eyes were glued to Mr. Jacobs, who was sitting across from me and staring right back at me. Tommy was sitting beside me and had his hand clenched around my thigh, presumably because he was scared to death we were going to make a crash landing. I had my hand wrapped around his as I stared at his father and smiled. I wasn’t sure but it seemed like Mr. Jacobs’ eyes were narrowed on Tommy’s hand on my thigh and when he met my eyes, he frowned.
Not wanting to displease Mr. Jacobs, I released Tommy’s hand and grabbed onto his right shoulder as I spoke loudly into his ear over the Cessna’s purring engine. “Tommy, look out the window. It’s beautiful.”
“I can’t look at anything until I feel the plane land on the ground,” Tommy announced, as he clenched his eyes shut tight and shook his head. “Otherwise, I think I’m gonna barf.”
Mitch, our pilot, was a handsome Brit in his mid-thirties, who wore blue blockers and a T-shirt. I heard him chuckle and he spoke up after overhearing our conversation. “I’ve landed here plenty of times. In fact, last time I landed here, there were fifty mile-per-hour gusts. It’s a beautiful day today, nothing to worry about.”
Mitch gripped the joystick and veered the plane on its final turn before lining it perfectly over the airfield on its final descent. Even though there weren’t strong gusts as Mitch had indicated, the small winds still managed to rock the plane in a hypnotic and puke-inducing motion. I felt bad for Tommy.
“Hail Mary, full of grace...” Sister Janice began reciting, smothering the beads of her rosary which glistened with sweat.
I began giggling softly as I watched Sister Janice acting as if the grim reaper was about to turn our small plane into a smoldering wreck. Mr. Jacobs stared back at me and gave me a sly wink as he glanced outside the window, presumably so he, too, wouldn’t get sick.
As the plane hovered twenty-five feet off the ground, it tilted left and for a split second, it looked like the left wing was going to touch the airfield before Mitch could even square the landing gear perpendicular to the ground. With a sudden jerk of the joystick, Mitch managed to right the plane as Tommy and Sister Janice groaned audibly. I suddenly felt a strong bump, followed by another. The Cessna sputtered to a halt. I looked over at Sister Janice, who now had her head in her lap. She didn’t look up until I nudged her with my elbow.
“Did we crash?” she asked, looking around the cabin like a startled little girl.
“Welcome to Zaire,” exclaimed Mitch as he glanced back at us and smiled.
“I can’t believe we made it,” Tommy muttered as he released my thigh and then glanced at Sister Janice, presumably worried that she might have noticed he was grabbing me in a way he shouldn’t have been. But Sister Janice was still too sick to notice anything else.
Sister Janice let out a relieved cackle and looked to the ceiling of the cabin. “Thank you, Jesus.”
“Amen to that,” Mr. Jacobs added as he unbuckled his seatbelt and immediately went to assist Sister Janice out of the plane.
Mitch opened the little door at the front of the cabin and pulled his seat forward so Sister Janice and Mr. Jacobs could get out first. A small gathering of people began to emerge and walk toward us, out of the heat waves that rose in the distance at the edge of the landing strip. As soon as we stepped fr
om the plane, I instantly felt the heat and humidity press against my face, chest and legs.
“Here you go,” said Mitch, as he pulled our bags from the small storage compartment underneath the Cessna. I smiled at Tommy as he gave me a little wink and reached for my bag. I let him take it and watched as Mr. Jacobs took Sister Janice’s carry-on and the four of us started forward, following Mitch.
“Hello, mes amis,” bellowed a booming voice with a French accent, coming from right behind us. “I hope Mitch’s flying didn’t hurt your tummies!”
Mitch gave Father Anton—a somewhat hefty man with a gray goatee, long curly hair, and a cheery disposition—a friendly pat on his back. Father Anton wore the thinnest linen shirt and matching linen pants. I was surprised because I’d figured he’d be sporting the typical black clerical clothing I was accustomed to seeing on priests. Of course, in the sweltering mid-afternoon heat, his current clothing made more sense.
“Hello, my name is Carmen,” said the other sister alongside Father Anton, as she reached over to shake my hand. She was a gray-haired lady, probably in her sixties, with a firm demeanor. Then she turned to face Mr. Jacobs and Tommy and welcomed them similarly.
“Sister Carmen has been our main liaison in Africa since 2002,” explained Sister Janice. She turned to Sister Carmen and took a few breaths before speaking again. She was obviously still motion sick—her skin was corpse-white. “Sister, we have two recent graduates of St. Hilda’s with us today, Tommy and Jessica,” Sister Janice introduced us as she blotted her forehead with a handkerchief. “And Tommy’s father, Grey, who also believes strongly in our cause.”
“That is wonderful,” proclaimed Father Anton as he slapped his hands together and appeared jubilant. “Your youth and energy will do wonders for our mission here in Zaire,” he grinned as he glanced at Tommy and me before his eyes lifted to Grey. “And, welcome, sir, we are grateful to have you. All of you.”