That Obnoxious Boy With The Wondering Hands

I was quite an innocent girl back in my mid-teens; I didn’t start dating until I was 18 years old. I came from a very loving church-going family and was very lucky to have a wonderfully happy childhood. I have two sisters who I always got on well with; we were encouraged to have self-respect, believing we could do anything. But, of course, the church also played a big part in our lives.

Our church family was lovely; all the adults got on well, as did most kids. Summer BBQ’s were joyous fun events, as were Christmas and New Year, plus lots of other church arranged activities. However, there was one lad I didn’t like at church; he was the same age as me and called Christopher. His family were extremely wealthy and donated hundreds of thousands to the church and other charitable organisations. His parents were lovely, but Christopher was an entitled, overweight, obnoxious prick who thought he was God’s g*ft to the world. He had asked me out many times; I’d always declined, as not only didn’t I fancy him but actively disliked him. This never stopped his advances, though sometimes even ‘handy’ behaviour, as I used to call it. Christopher as a teenager was a sex pest; he was constantly pinching my bum, accidentally brushing his hand against my developing breasts etc. At one of the church picnic, I was sat against a tree wearing a summer dress and straw hat. Christopher comes and sits opposite me, smiling like a Cheshire cat? It wasn’t until one of my girlfriends came over and advised me the horrible boy was looking up my dress as my panties were showing!

I was sixteen when this next event happened. To caveat, I still hadn’t dated anybody, I’d never been kissed, and except for some enjoyable ‘me time’ with the showerhead, I hadn’t been touched. The church was showing a film made by a missionary family who belonged to the church. They had spent two years over in the Philippines doing missionary work in the prisons around the capital Manila. I arrived late, all the blackout blinds were down, and the church was in total darkness as the film played. I knew my parents were somewhere but couldn’t see them. The only available chairs were right at the back, and guess what? Mr Obnoxious was the only other person sitting in that line of pews. I concentrated hard to see if there was anything else available but simply couldn’t see past the first couple of rows. I was a little shy back then and didn’t want to walk in front of people to find another seat, so I sat in the back row with Christopher four seats away from me. The church is old, and back then still had the old wooden pews, which were high backed and gave an enclosed seating area.

As soon as I sat down, Christopher moved to sit next to me. I remember thinking, “oh shit no!!” I was wearing a flowery summer dress that buttoned up the front; I wore lots of these during the summer months as a teenager; I thought they made me look refined. About 5 minutes into watching the film, I feel a hand on my knee covered dress. I immediately moved it off. A few minutes after, it returns over my dress, resting on the knee. I removed it again and even gave his hand a little slap. Two of the people in the pew Infront looked behind with annoyed faces to see what the noise was; I smiled back and mouthed, “Sorry.”




The hand return to my knee; however, not wanting to make a fuss, I left it there. I then became engrossed in the film and initially didn’t notice that Christopher’s hand had moved from over my dress and had slipped onto my bare knee. I gently pushed his hand off my knee and continued watching the film. The hand returned, but this time his movement was rapid, and his hand was up my dress and on my bare thigh. I forcefully removed it, and in the scuffle, the two people looked back and asked me to be quiet. I did consider leaving; however, what would people think if I walked out of church? His hand returned as quick as lightning and was once again on my thigh; I left it there and tried to concentrate on the film. Not long after, though, his hand was at my panties; I closed my legs tight so he couldn’t feel any more of me. His hand just remained still touching my thigh and the upper part of my panties. He tried to move his hand up to the top of my panties, but I grabbed his hand over my dress and held it; we held this position for five minutes; however, I relaxed slightly, and the next thing I know his hand is between my legs with his fingers brushing over my panty crotch. I was stunned and didn’t know what to do? I tried to close my legs again, but all it did was trap his hand between my legs. His finger gently rubbed my panty covered pussy, and oh my word, I was enjoying it. Later in life, I discovered that although I didn’t enjoy touching myself; however, I loved somebody else touching me.

I left Christopher rubbing my pussy and tried to concentrate on the film and conceal what was going on from the people sitting in front. I further relaxed and felt his hand enter the top of my knickers and start to roam through my pubic hair. I again clamped my legs together to stop his hand from descending any further. I was horrified, turned on and angry at what was happening to me. His fingers explored my full bush, matting the pubic hairs and then gently pulling them. He then seized an opportunity as I relaxed, and I felt his fingers meet my bare pussy. I couldn’t move, frozen to the spot as he expertly separated my labia and ran a finger through my private feminine place, reaching my clitoris. I jumped when he touched it and again clamped my legs together. The horror then diddles my clit between his fingers, which sends waves of pleasure through my body. I recall he then drives his fingers down my wet pussy lips and moves the moisture around, bringing some up to my clit. I was no longer watching the film but engrossed in what was happening between my legs.

I let him explore my private place freely, that until this night was untouched even by myself. I had my first ever orgasm at the fingers of this obnoxious twat. The film then finished, and I rush to the loo to mop up my soaking genitals. I get home, go into my bedroom and cried.

I wish this were the end of the story; alas, it's not. Over the next couple of years, until he went to University, Christopher took every opportunity to feel me up. I was once in the kitchen at church washing up, and he comes behind me and puts his hands into my tea shirt and feels my bare breasts. At the church firework display in November I’m lying on a blanket and lies next to me rearranging the blanket so it covers both of us. I didn’t stop him as his hand unbuttons the top of my jeans and goes into my panties. Nobody could see what was happening, and for the first time he inserted his finger into my virgin vagina; I had my second orgasm at the hands of somebody else. Next, at a friend’s house party, he takes me outside to a secluded spot, and this time he’s got my breast out sucking them, his hand in my knickers and rubs his crotch into me. This is the first time I allow him to kiss me. To be continued