#LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[zweiginator]

The small town Patrick request you just did was amazing im gonna need you to do a part 2 if you what like they can’t get enough of each other, they’re sneaking around and she feels really guilty about it but she can’t stop. she wants him to properly ask her to be his girlfriend at least because it feels like she’s disappointing god. Idk whatever you feel comfortable with.

after you and patrick make out in his car, there's no stopping. full speed ahead, you keep seeing him. patrick makes fun of you. little stubborn god-fearing church girl sneaking around with patrick zweig. the same patrick who is high half the summer. who watches porn you would be disgusted to know even exists.

it's easy to sneak around with patrick when your father has urged you to continue lessons. patrick refuses his money, so your mother insists he come to dinner once a week, after your second lesson.

so on sundays you go to church and wave sweetly to patrick, the zweig family. you sit politely for the service and patrick and you share glances as you say your prayers. and then you eat lunch and take a shower once you get home. patrick picks you up at 2 on the dot. he drives around and you do practice for thirty or so minutes. but after that--anything is fair game.

you sit on his lap right on the court sometimes. nobody comes around in such a small town. patrick gropes you, pushes his hands under your skirt to tease you. kisses your neck, pulls your hair a little. brushes his lips softly against yours. you just want him to kiss you. he hasn't fucked you yet, you wouldn't allow it.

but how he talks to you makes you feel filthy. like you already have.

"i bet your little pussy is so fucking tight. would feel like heaven."

it makes you squirm on his lap and cars are driving by; it could be anyone, in a town where everyone knows everyone. but he keeps you there. touches you just enough to work you up. he wants you to fold. to yank him towards you and shove your tongue against his. to grind against his palm. you always fold for him.

and then he takes you home at 5. you eat an early dinner and patrick sits across from you. says you're doing such a great job. you're a fast learner. he can't believe you've never done this before. you're not sure what he's referring to. tennis or your sinful foreplay.

but you keep your composure. your father wouldn't allow you to continue lessons if he thought for even a second that patrick was attracted to you or you to him.

so you nod, and patrick compliments your mother's cooking and asks for seconds if he can have them.

after he leaves your mother gushes about him.

"he's really something else." she says, handing you a dish to scrub. "so handsome and polite!"

you choke a little, then nod fervently. "he's very nice."

"you don't think he's handsome?"

it feels like a trick.

"i've never noticed, i guess." a huge lie. you feel pangs of guilt rising, twirling ivies around your veins. "i really like tennis. i think im learning a lot."

your mom retreats. "that's good, honey."

that night patrick asks if you want to sneak out. you say no. and then after 1, you're in his car.

"where are we going?"

patrick takes a drag from his cigarette. you like how his jaw tenses. "to my house. my parents are out of town. visiting family friends before my sister goes to college."

"why didn't you go?" you tear your cuticles.

"i have lessons to teach."

he turns into his driveway. you've never been to his house; it's huge. vast with what seems like a mile long road to get to the house itself.

"what are we doing here?"

you're so innocent. you act like every time is your first.

"just hanging out." patrick gets out of the car.

you're in the kitchen now.

"do you want a drink? a shot?" you're sat on the kitchen island and patrick waves around a bottle of vodka.

"i shouldn't."

"come on. we'll do one together."

"how will you drive me home? my dad would kill you." you cross your arms.

patrick takes his shirt off. you've never seen him shirtless but you gulp. hair peppers his chest and trails down his naval before stopping abruptly at the waistband of his shorts.

"killing me isn't very holy."

"neither is drinking."

"neither is letting me touch your cunt." he pours two shots.

the word sounds vicious coming out of his mouth. you can't take your eyes off of patrick's body.

he hands you one and you clink them together and take them. your face quivers and a shudder rolls down your spine. patrick laughs at you and you feel the liquor down there.

"you feel it?" patrick asks.

you do feel a little tipsy. and you do want him really bad.

you nod and spread your legs. patrick can see your panties from beneath your skirt.

"what are you doing?" patrick stands between your legs, running a finger up your shin.

you shrug.

"i dunno." your face is hot.

"do you ever touch yourself?" patrick bunches your skirt up around your waist. your panties are soaked.

"no."

"you've never had an orgasm?" patrick's thumb runs over your clothed pussy.

you shake your head. your arms are wobbly from holding yourself up.

patrick pushes your panties to the side. he's never really touched you like this.

"this okay?"

no.

"yes." you nod.

you're so wet you're practically dripping. patrick runs a finger through your folds and presses against your clit and you grab onto his shoulder for purchase. you didn't know this really felt that good. because then he's pushing his middle finger into you and it stings but in a way that makes you beg. more, more, more.

"bad fucking girl. letting me fuck your pussy with my fingers."

you moan against his mouth and move forward to kiss him but he moves his head back.

"say it."

you mewl. patrick rubs harder circles over your clit. "say what--" your words are airy.

"say you're a bad girl. ask god to forgive you." his fingers stop moving and you realize he's not going to give you more until you say it.

you start to move your hips but he stops you.

"i'm--" patrick wiggles his fingers, just once. shows you the feeling you're missing so bad. "im a bad girl. please--god, forgive me--"

patrick grabs your jaw and moves his fingers faster and faster. expertly. you try not to think about how many girls he's done this to. it's easy when you feel a weird pit in the bottom of your stomach, blossoming like a dandelion. a weed that shouldn't be there but maybe it's not so bad--and then you feel it. your first orgasm. it has to be.

"patrick--oh my god--" you grind your cunt against his hand and he talks you through it. says you're perfect. says look at you, good girl.

but you're not perfect and you're not good. you feel awful and you need to stop this now.

but patrick is breathing heavy and his hair is sweaty, matted against his forehead. he's hard. so you untie his shorts.

do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

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