Secret, Saintly Schoolgirl Love - Sex Stories

Secret, Saintly Schoolgirl Love

“Good morning, and happySaint Valentine’s Day, girls!” Reverend James began his sermon with particular emphasis, making his way up the aisle of the school chapel to the pulpit. “Can anyone here tell me what this day is all about?”

It was my last semester at True Light School for Girls, and Valentine’s Day had happened to fall on a Sunday this year.

I was sure that what I knew of this notoriously lascivious day was not the answer Reverend James was looking for. Or, maybe it was exactly the answer he was looking for so that he could shoot it down, but it was definitely not theright answer.

Whatever knowledge my classmates had, none of them seemed ready to offer it up either.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” said Reverend James. “Everyone here has heard of Valentine’s Day before today, right? From friends? Family? Sneaking some TV in the summer?”

Cautiously, three hundred and fifty-four girls bobbed our heads in acknowledgment.

“All right, then!” he said triumphantly. “Tell me. What have you heard?”

We all knew that he would pry some participation out of someone, sooner or later, but he hadn’t done it yet.

“Everyone who can tell me one thing associated with Valentine’s Day gets one of these,” he sighed, pulling a giant bag of heart-shaped, foil-wrapped chocolates from under the pulpit and holding one of them up to the light.

“Chocolate,” a girl near the front spoke up, just loud enough for everyone to hear, thanks to the choir-friendly ...

... acoustics.

“Chocolate!” Reverend James repeated for any who had not heard, tossing her the candy in his hand. “That was a gimme. What else?”

“Hearts,” said someone else.

“Hearts! Too easy,” he said, but tossed her the heart anyway.

“Roses,” another girl offered, and received her prize.

I was sitting in the second-to-last pew, between my two best friends, Hannah and Barb, with my hands on my knees, careful as always not to whisper, not to laugh, not to touch my friends or sit too close or look directly at them. Careful not to do anything that would get us shuffled.

My mouth was watering. I hadn’t had chocolate in I didn’t know how long. But I didn’t shout out any Valentine’s Day symbols.

I didn’t, because Barb’s chosen method of rebellion for the day consisted of sitting with her legs apart, taking up too much space for the rest of us to fit in the row while still “leaving room for Jesus,” and making her pleated plaid skirt ride up above the tops of her knee socks. None of the adults had noticed yet.

Well, none of the adults with authority, I should say, since the three of us were technically adults now too, for all the difference it made in our daily lives.

In any case, seeing little slivers of Barb’s bare thighs peeking through into the daylight in the presence ofadult adults was a little like watching someone juggle knives. Someone you knew to be mediocre and juggling.

I knew I probably couldn’t save her, but I wasn’t going to be the one to knock her over, ...