Ava's Immoral Soul Ch. 01

Slamming the door so hard that the living room windows rattled and immaculately arranged vases jumped, Ava threw her bookbag in the general direction of the fireplace and stormed into the kitchen.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

It always felt good to make a lot of noise when you were angry, Ava thought distractedly as she yanked open the fridge and fished out a soda with a little less show -- she didn't want it spewing all over her when she cracked it open, after all -- and then kicked the door shut.

Slam!

Her dad had left cookies on the counter, with a little note that said, I'll be home at 6, Spaghettio -- Dad. Ava's father hadn't called her Spaghettio since her mom died, three years ago. On any other day, she would have been both elated and comforted to know that he was reaching out again. Today, though, it was like grinding salt into a wound with sandpaper.

Crumpling up the note, Ava grabbed the plate of cookies, clutched her soda in the other hand, and stalked into the living room, flopping down unceremoniously on the recliner. Her bookbag was too far away to reach with her hand, so, hook a foot through the strap and drag'er back.

Munching as angrily as one could on a delicious chocolate chip cookie, Ava settled back with the sealed envelope the school had sent home with her, inspecting the front and then the back before reading the front again. All it said was, Mr. Bradley, in the precise, tilted script of the headmaster's own hand.

Which means Big Trouble, Ava thought glumly, shoving her long, dark braid behind her shoulder. Her dad was used to getting letters from St. Magdalene's School For Reformed Girls, but he was accustomed to seeing the flowery handwriting of Mr. Creeley's secretary. The change wouldn't slip past her dad, either -- he may be out of touch emotionally, but he was certainly with it in every other aspect of his life.

Tearing a bite off her second cookie, Ava washed it down with a gulp of soda and then tore open the envelope, knowing full and well it was sealed for a reason. She didn't care, though -- she had to know what was in that letter before her dad saw it.

Dear Mr. Bradley;

I am as concerned for Ava's spiritual well-being as I am for her already tenuous footing here at St. Magdalene's. As you know, we have recorded fourteen unexcused absences, three violent verbal outbursts and several distasteful (need I say immoral) comments in class this semester alone.

We have made numerous exceptions in your daughter's case in light of your unfortunate circumstances, and because we sympathize with the difficulties you must face at home, raising such a willful and rebellious child without a mother's touch. Despite our desire to do everything we can to keep Ava enrolled here, however, she crossed a line today that puts me in an immensely difficult predicament.

Ava and another student were absent from P.E. today; to make this awkward account as brief as possible, their whereabouts were uncovered when Sister Martha found them engaged in a carnal embrace in the locker room.

I know this must be as much of a shock for you as it is for Sister Martha and me, but this behavior is inexcusable and immoral to the extreme. It may result in Ava's expulsion from St. Magdalene's. Due to the sensitive nature of this transgression, I, Sister Martha, the other student's parents and you are the only ones who know about this incident. I would like to meet with you personally to discuss your daughter's actions and her future here at the school.

As always, praying for Ava's immortal soul, Headmaster John. P. Creeley

Ava realized that she had two fingers pressed tight over the damp folds of her pussy, her thumb bumping softly and rhythmically against her clit. Her face flushing crimson, she snatched her hand out of her panties and wiped her fingers on the pleats of her green plaid skirt before carefully refolding the letter.

"Man, am I in for it this time," Ava bemoaned to the living room, tucking the letter back into its envelope (and her fingers back into her crotch) as she sank further into the recliner. Sister Martha had caught the girls right as they were approaching mutual sanctification; soapy bodies mashed together, Ava's fingers buried deep inside Roxie's drenched little snatch, Roxie's thumb flicking furiously at Ava's clit.

Even knowing that she was in deep shit couldn't slake her body's hunger for a mind blowing orgasm. Hooking a knee over the arm of the recliner, Ava lifted her hips, wiggled her panties down to just under the hem of her skirt and glanced at the ticking grandfather clock. Just after five. She had nearly an hour to get herself off one or two times before her dad got home (or maybe ten.. she was feeling especially frustrated in that department today).

Laying her head back, Ava closed her eyes and pushed her palm firmly on top of her clit, smashing it down as she curled her middle finger a little, letting the tip push just inside the tight opening of her sex. It was still sopping -- it had been from the moment Roxie pushed her back against the shower wall and hungrily kissed her on the mouth.

Oh, god. Just thinking about it was making her pussy twitch and clit throb all over again. Ava let her mind wander as she started grinding the heel of her hand over her clit, still working just the tip of her finger in and out of her hot, slick entrance, teasing the tight, sensitive ring of flesh.

Roxanne -- Roxie to her friends -- had been expelled from public school and arrived at St. Magdalene's the very week that Ava met the same fate. Though the two were physically different as night and day, they shared a mutual disdain for Catholic School and authority in general, and as such became friends overnight. Roxie was a tall, athletic blond with small, perky tits, impossibly long legs, glacial blue eyes and striking features -- you could see her Icelandic heritage right away. Ava, on the other hand, was shorter and curvier, with slightly plump thighs, a juicy round ass, and soft, heavy breasts that were hard as hell to hide (not that she actually tried). Although she had a body that simply screamed to be fucked, it was her expressive green eyes set in an olive complected, almost pixie-ish face that really got people's attention.

While Roxie and Ava liked to complain about everything from religion and government to school lunches and lousy makeup, one of their top grievances was going from public school (with boys) to reform school (for girls). To make matters worse, they were both forbidden by their 'rents to have anything to do with boys.

Ava loved cock. She craved cock. Back in public school, she loved to skip class just so she could all but inhale her boyfriend's behind the bleachers; more than once she had sucked off other guys back there as well. Jim was the only one she'd let fuck her, though. It wasn't out of any real loyalty to him, it was just that he had such a big, fat dick that acted like a happy puppy whenever she was around, and she loved the hell out of it.

The first semester at St. Mag's had been rough. The only cock to be found belonged to Headmaster Creeley, and he was old. By the end of that semester, though, Ava didn't even care how old he was. She was so moon-eyed for cock that she would have shagged him sideways if he'd just look at her that way. And you better believe she tried to get him to look at her as more than just a wayward pupil; bending over to pick things up when he was in the hallway, pushing her elbows in tight to thrust her ample breasts forward in his office, licking her lips and pouting suggestively when he chided her for her behavior. Apparently, though, Mr. Creeley's cock felt as old as he looked, because the most she ever got out of him was exasperation.

It got to the point in her second semester that Ava was almost constantly in tears, and would fly into a rage at the slightest provocation. It was on one of those Rage Days when the girls, skipping third period to smoke cigarettes over at Roxie's, reached a new development in their friendship.

"Jesus, girl, you need to get laid," Roxie had said with that husky laugh when Ava snapped unnecessarily at her. Chagrined, Ava sighed and rolled around onto her back, tossing the magazine she had been flipping through onto the floor. "Fat fucking chance of that happening ever again," she groaned in undiluted misery. "Oh, come off it," Roxie laughed, and then she did something that Ava would never forget -- she slid her hand up Ava's thigh, all the way up under her skirt, and rapped her knuckles lightly on her cotton clad pussy, three times, like someone knocking on a door.

"Oh, god," Ava moaned thickly, "don't do that, it feels good, damnit!"

"I know," Roxie grinned, "and I'll bet this feels even better." Tugging Ava's panties a little to the side, Roxie slipped a finger right inside her ever-wet pussy.

Ten minutes later, their cigarettes lay smoldering in the ashtray while the two of them rolled around on the bed, fingering and licking and kissing each other like there was no tomorrow.

Both girls considered themselves to be straight, but the celibacy forced on them by school and their parents gave them no other choice. Every day after school, they'd head over to Roxie's house and fuck like wanton whores in lesbian porn, and then Ava would go home smelling like Roxie's tangy pussy and glowing like Rudolph's nose.

Needless to say, Ava had very few problems at school during her second semester.

Lately, though, once a day (okay, several orgasms per daily session) wasn't cutting the mustard for Ava. And today in the locker room, Roxie had called her out on her behavior.

"Fuck, Ava, you're going to get expelled if you aren't careful," the lofty blond said over her shoulder, wet hair plastered to her pale, satiny skin. "I can't help it," Ava whined, spending a lot longer than necessary to wash up her twitching cunt. The damn thing had a mind of its own -- when she was horny, her pussy just clenched and sucked and twitched, sending hot waves of torment straight through her.

Roxie just looked at her knowingly and glanced down at the soapy hand wriggling between those smooth, thick thighs, and pressed her lips together, not saying another word until the last girl had toweled off and left the locker room.

"If you get expelled, who's going to take care of me?" Roxie hissed suddenly, snatching Ava's fingers out of her crotch. "You're a big girl, Roxie," Ava muttered irritably, trying to get her hand back where her body so desperately needed it. "Take care of yourself."

"God, you're an insatiable little whore, aren't you?" There was an admiring tone in Roxie's voice, though, completely belying the harshness of her words. Ava opened her mouth to fire a retort back, but just then Roxie let go of her wrist and grabbed both of her shoulders instead, shoving her out of the stream of water and against the tile wall. "I'll have to start taking care of you more often," Roxie murmured just before planting her lips right over Ava's, thrusting tongue into her hot, eager mouth, one hand delving between her legs and the other hungrily feasting on those soft, plump tits.

Ava's anger melted and she turned into a cat in heat, humping Roxie's hand, gasping and moaning into her mouth, sucking and chewing on her bottom lip and tweaking Roxie's hard, small nipples. The temperature in the locker room seemed to shoot up; at least, Ava felt feverishly hot. "Oh, fuck, Roxie! Mmmgod yes, right there," she gasped when her friend started rubbing her clit, and reciprocated by forcing two fingers inside Roxie's slick, blond cunt.

Unable to focus on kissing on top of all this, Roxie bent her shoulders down, buried her face in Ava's neck, and panted heavily against her throat, her own hips bucking to Ava's furious finger fuck. She never wavered in the attention she lavished on Ava's clit, though, and before long both girls where moaning and whimpering, gasping each time their engorged nipples brushed together, crying out as their moment of release drew closer and closer and...

Fucking A, Sister Martha, Ava thought deliriously, grinding away at her clit and burying her middle finger deep inside of her soaking sex, couldn't you have waited another ten fucking seconds?

It didn't matter now, though. Ava was finally cumming, cumming all over her dad's recliner, the den redolent with the scent her arousal, her throat stretched around a cry as juicy as any cock she'd ever tasted.

* * *

Ava was conked out in his recliner when Rob got home, unknowingly closing the door much quieter than she had earlier. She was cute, if a little indecent, all sprawled out like that, one leg thrown over the arm of the recliner, her plaid skirt falling between her plump thighs, one knee high rucked down clear to the ankle.

They'd had their share of spats these past few years -- Mary Anne's death and Ava's intense rebellious streak were both equally difficult for him to deal with. But seeing Ava, her cheeks flushed with shadows on them from her impossibly long, dark lashes, her full lips twisted into a dreamy little pout, he couldn't help but remember her as she had been before; his little Spaghettio.

Mary Anne had always called her "my green-eyed pixie-child," and for a moment he just stood there, gazing down at her face, noting her thick, dark eyebrows that barely had any arch to them, giving her such a serious expression that belied her spunky attitude and impish personality. Her full cheeks curved down to a dainty little jaw and slightly pointed chin that shadowed her smooth, gracefully curved throat. Wisps of sable hair had finagled out of her braid and were draped over her short, broad forehead. Strange features when considered alone, but surreal and beautiful all together... and Mary Anne was right. She did have the look of a pixie to her.

It was easy now to remember the small, dark little toddler who would totter around the house chanting, "ut oh, suhwettio!"

Rob drew in a deep breath, unconsciously prepared to breathe it out in a heavy sigh, when a strange but altogether familiar scent pervaded his nostrils. It had been a long time since he'd come across that particular aroma, but it didn't take any time at all to place.

Jesus..

Taking a few hasty steps back in retreat, Rob stared down at Ava, away from her peaceful face, past the round, ample chest filling out her button-up white blouse, down to her spread legs and haphazardly fallen skirt.

Her panties, pale blue cotton, were peeking out from below the hem, rolled up like a rope. The implications staggered him. Masturbating? His daughter masturbated? In his chair??

His cock twitched, and he felt his face burn with bewilderment and shame. He wasn't really aroused at the sight of his daughter, was he? No, definitely not. She was beautiful, yes, even if he did despair occasionally at her weight (she had never been slim and delicate like her mother), but he was a good father, a good Christian. It had to be the smell that was doing this to him, the rich, musky smell of a woman's arousal.

He glanced again at the crux of her thighs, the green and dark gray plaid that fell between them, and his cock positively lurched, springing into an instantly painful erection. Making matters worse, she stirred, her knee tilting more to the side, splaying her legs wider, making the skirt slide up more to fully expose the panties she had rolled down her thighs. Rob had to push his hand hard against the tent that had sprung suddenly in his pants, biting his lip to stifle a heavy groan.

Looking lower, he could see just a hint of sheen on the dark gray upholstery between her legs. The scent he hadn't noticed when he walked in the door was so strong now that it was making him dizzy. Or maybe it was the blood rushing straight to his cock that was doing that.

It took a minute for him to realize that he was rubbing himself through his jeans, grinding his hand over his erection to relieve some of the pressure. Oh, Lord, what was he doing? Staring down at his teenage daughter, entertaining lustful thoughts about her soft, curvaceous body? No. No, of course not. He was... just appreciating the fact that she had blossomed into a woman, that's all. The shadowy sanctuary between her legs was driving him crazy. He had to see it, just once. It had been so long since he'd been this close to a woman's pussy, and it wasn't like he hadn't seen his daughter's before. She had been a little girl at the time, sure, but she didn't have to know about this particular peek, and besides, they were family. It didn't really count... right?

Either emboldened by his clever reasoning, or simply too overcome with desire to care, he carefully knelt down in front of her legs and reached out, slowly taking hold of the skirt's hem. It was a little coarse. A wool blend. The side of his hand touched a buttery soft thigh, and he was in textural heaven. She moaned a little in her sleep at the touch and, to his surprise, she spread her legs even wider, her hips rocking twice in languid succession before falling still again.

Refusing to think about what he was doing, Rob quietly unzipped his jeans and stuffed his hand down his pants, stroking his long, throbbing cock through his boxers. With his other hand, he carefully, carefully lifted her skirt, a centimeter at a time, unveiling first the tightly pressed cheeks of her generously proportioned ass, and then....

Rob could only grip his cock in anguish as he stared at the wet, glistening flesh between Ava's legs. Her innermost thighs, the crack of her ass, and her pussy lips were drenched in clear fluid, shimmering in the overhead light. The smell of her was intoxicating -- it wasn't tangy or overpowering, but mellow, secretive. Mysterious. Womanly.

Her swollen lips were still slightly parted, enough so that he could see the tiny entrance to the sex that captivated him so. There was still some creamy white fluid leaking out of it, and Rob closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, all the while breathing heavily through his nose. He was drowning himself in her scent, burning the memory into his eyelids, struggling both against temptation and his resistance to it.

Just one taste... after all, it didn't really count, did it?

Rob was on auto-pilot at this point. The voice (the good, Christian voice) in his head that was screaming at him to stop, stop, damnit, this is your daughter!, was locked away as he gently pushed her skirt back all the way, laying it over her tummy, exposing her completely to him. Her little clit was still hard, and he breathed out softly when he saw it twitch a little, as though beckoning him to latch on, suck and tongue it for all it was worth.

Above her clit curled soft, feathery tendrils of sable fur. It was trimmed, neat but not unnatural. He liked it, but it wasn't enough to hold his attention.

When he had talked himself into going this far, his mind's eye had shown him a vision of himself gently brushing a finger up her slit, collecting some of that creamy liquid, and licking it off. But now that he was this close, this fucking close, and he could see her pussy contracting softly in her sleep.....

He leaned forward, so close that his nose was almost touching her sensitive little nub, and inhaled sharply. He was dimly aware that his cock was out of his boxers now, and that he was pumping it for all it was worth, but even that sensation felt far away. Ava was murmuring in her sleep now, mumbling something like, "Rock, seeeeee....." but Rob was hardly paying attention.

Slowly, slowly, he dipped his head down and opened his mouth, letting the tip of his tongue snake out and lap up the cum that was dripping down from her juicy snatch. She moaned heavily and he froze, panic flaring through him -- but she wasn't awake, just dreaming. His tongue was still poised at the cleft of her cheeks, and he began to move up, lapping his way to the source of all that ambrosial fluid.