To look at her, Stephanie Kennedy was as innocent as the day she was born. Her porcelain features were blemished by only a few freckles that adorned the bridge of her nose. Tousled blonde hair cascaded effortlessly over her shoulders and she had a penchant for wearing yellow. I don’t know what it is about the colour yellow, but it makes your eyes stand to attention. You have to look at it.

When I met her for the first time, Stephanie was one month short of seventeen years of age, and she was the most devoted Christian you could ever meet. Her father’s occupation probably had something to do with that. She would be the sort of person that knelt by her bed at night, knees together, body hunched over the edge of her bed and hands clasped together with the tips of her finely manicured fingers touching her button nose as she prayed to God every night. She was always polite, helped everyone when they needed it and her smile brought joy to so many faces. She was a joy to be around.

I knew her parents, of course, but not socially or as friends. Her mother was as cute as Stephanie when she wanted to be, and her father, believe it or not, was the vicar of the local church. A pillar of the community that ensured that all of his flock rejected sin in favour of the love of God. Someone has to do it.

Stephanie was different from either of her parents. She was more street-wise, probably as a result of growing up in a rapidly changing community; the influence of the internet must have helped too. But there was just something about her that meant she stood out from what was considered normal. If there ever is a normal, these days.

I had a bit of a run-in with Stephanie while enjoying a casual lunch at the local pub one Saturday afternoon. It was a bright and sunny day, and as I said, yellow cries out for attention. She was sitting at a table that was opposite mine with a couple of friends. They were chatting away as teenagers do with the occasional bouts of laugher. I was caressing my pint of beer while waiting for my ploughman’s lunch to arrive and contemplating life the universe and everything. I noticed a few sly glances in my direction as the group huddled together exchanging almost silent whispers with each other but thought nothing of it. I was happy being there on my own and didn’t need to converse with anyone.

The group eventually broke up and Stephanie was left at the table on her own just as the waitress brought my lunch to my table. I thanked her and as I stretched to reach for the salt on the far end of the table noticed that Stephanie had swung one leg over the end of the bench and was sitting side on to the table, facing me.

Yellow, it cries out for attention and I could see her bright yellow panties from under her short skirt wink at me. It only made things worse as she wiggled on the bench; more and more of her panties came into view with every shuffle of her bum. If I didn’t know any better I’d say she was enticing me, but I knew she was not that kind of girl. She eventually pulled a book from her bag and started to read. I wondered if it was a cut-down version of the bible or something similar. A hand unconsciously twirled the curls in her hair as she read, stopping now and then to take a sip of coke.

I started to eat my lunch, took a sip of beer, and smiled inwardly to myself. Though, to be honest, I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows every now and then to peek in her general direction. On the few occasions that I put the knife and fork down and took a sip of beer, I could quite clearly see her smile to herself. That was when I realised that she knew what she was doing. I think she knew that her legs were slowly opening and that the colour yellow would grab my attention. I held my glass inches from my face and started to stare. Every time she reached for her drink her legs would open further. My gaze was only wrenched from the ‘V’ of her knickers when she raised her head to look in my direction.

She knew what she was doing alright.

It was Stephanie that made the first move. Once I had finished my meal she sauntered across and introduced herself. She was courteous at first and it was all I could do to stop looking at her unfettered breasts beneath her loose t-shirt as she sat down on the bench opposite me. She made a point of fidgeting which only drew attention to herself and I couldn’t help myself. One thing led to another and we started chatting. She seemed confident and the conversation was light-hearted.

I blushed and dropped my eyes to the table when she asked whether I'd looked up her skirt. I wasn't about to deny it; what was the point when she was the one asking while knowing full well that I had.

She smiled and bit her lower lip when I nodded. I blushed again when she asked whether her tits had had any effect on me. This time I grinned back at her but said nothing. That was when she told me I should come to church. She insisted that Sunday’s were a day of unexpected joy, especially in the pews at the back.

I was intrigued. Flattered even, that this young girl would ask me out on a date to church. It was certainly a novel approach and one that I had never before encountered. I know it wasn’t a date per se, but it amused me to think of it as such.

I smiled back and told her that it would be a slim possibility. The conversation came to a sudden end when she announced that she had to meet someone and as quickly as she arrived, she sprung up from the bench.

“It’s been nice talking to you. See you in church on Sunday.” She winked.

“Likewise,” I replied, “we’ll see about the church.”

Sunday came and went. I actually considered turning up just out of interest but the church wasn’t my scene, not in the slightest, and besides, she’d be with her mother and family while listening to her father preach to the masses. I didn’t even know what they did in church and had no intent on finding out.

I met her again on the following Tuesday. She was stood on the other end of the queue at the local coffee shop, a place I sometimes frequent for a quick sandwich and coffee in my lunchtimes. It gets me out of the office and gets my steps up. She didn’t notice me as she left to search out a suitable table and when I got served I headed for a window seat in the sun. Before I knew it there was a tap on my shoulder with Stephanie leaning into my personal space.

“May I join you?” she asked tilting her head to one side and raising her eyebrows.

I motioned for her to sit in the easy chair opposite and put my phone back into my pocket. I couldn’t help but notice that her breasts resisted any movement from side to side with them being swaddled by the tight-fitting blouse that she wore. Her cleavage however announced its presence. She looked in my direction.

I held my hands up. “Yep, I looked,” I said, not too loudly so the whole coffee shop could hear.

“I should hope so too,” she said, with a smile, before she shook her shoulders rather enticingly.

The conversation carried on as normal with both of us sipping our coffee, and me nibbling at my food and throwing in the occasional innuendo when it was appropriate to do so. I kept looking for a hint of yellow but couldn’t see any. Her bra was coloured white, in tune with her blouse, though I wouldn’t have been surprised if she hadn’t worn black underneath just to grab people’s attention.

Just as I was about to say something rude to her, her mother walked into the coffee shop. There were the obligatory and quick introductions that preceded much talk of the traffic queues and the trouble she had getting to meet her daughter. The moment had passed, and I resigned myself to my own company as Stephanie got up to join her mother.

“Sunday, be there or else,” it came out as a command. As if she was scolding me for not turning up the previous Sunday. I looked at her sexy round ass as she stood up and turned to leave, making her way towards the general direction of a table out of the sun.

“Maybe,” I replied. She smiled at me over her shoulder like I had made her day.

At forty-two years old, you could say I was a typical man, a divorced father of two, with a keen sense of duty towards my family but ultimately trying to make my way in life. My kids were with their mother and the distance prevented me from seeing them too often. Deep down I was a hot-blooded male with no one to take care of me, at least not in that way, and it certainly seemed that her intentions were leaning in that direction or at least that’s the conclusion I had come to.

During the remainder of the week, I had the opportunity to ask other people what they thought about Stephanie Kennedy. I tried my best to approach the topic sensitively and it turned out that everyone I spoke to in the small community would testify that butter wouldn't melt. She's so lovely, they would say. What a lovely girl she is, they all agreed. She’s so helpful and cheerful, they added. I couldn’t find one person that had anything bad to say about her and there was no smut on Facebook either.

She must truly have been a wonderful person; a goody-two-shoes. Yet, I couldn’t help but think of those yellow knickers from her outwardly public display on that Saturday afternoon at the pub, the plunging neckline in the coffee shop, and that wiggling ass as she left me to my coffee. She was never phased by any of my innuendoes and she gave as good as she got. I wondered about the church in a way I had never wondered about it before. Why was she so keen? Was it because the numbers were dropping? Was she on some kind of recruitment scheme set up by her father? It made me smile but more than that, I was intrigued. I was hooked.

And so it turned out that I was lured to church by Stephanie Kennedy.

Sunday came and almost went without my visit to the church. I had truly forgotten about my arrangement with a friend to help him out with some external decorating, but at the last minute it started to rain and he called it off. It was a lucky break because I had decided to go to church for once in my life.

It was a tall and foreboding building. It looked dark, unwelcoming and creepy and that was just from the outside. I joined the end of the queue of people waiting to enter the church. Looking ahead, I could see that everyone was stopping to talk to everyone else as they made their way to the entrance. I for one didn’t want to get into any strained or unusual conversations about God or the fact that they hadn’t seen me there before and I certainly didn’t want some old biddy to offer me a bible by the door; it would probably have burned my hands. The church would be the last place anyone would find me if it wasn’t for this enigmatic and seductive Stephanie Kennedy.

With some trepidation, I stepped over the boundary and into a foreboding place. I must have been the last person to enter but it wasn’t hard to find Stephanie. She was sitting in the next to last pew, dressed in a yellow woollen top with her blonde hair resting on the back of the wooden bench.

I coughed as I took a step towards her and then I shivered. Why were these places always so cold and uninviting? Surely God, if anyone, would have taken more care to make these places comfortable and warm.

Stephanie turned around to meet my gaze. Her smile invited me to sit next to her, but out of courtesy, I left a big enough space between us; partly so that I didn’t draw attention to myself as the new man that was sitting next to the vicar’s daughter.

We started chatting and she thanked me for turning up. For some reason, she asked me whether I had been to church before but the smirk on her face made me realise she was making polite conversation.

“Every other week,” I replied, facing forward.

Then I turned to her and shook my head and told her the absolute truth. Her smile, it would seem, would drag the truth out of the devil himself and that glint in her eye would have blinded him.

She pointed to the front of the church and told me that the man wearing the collar was her dad. I knew that and was pleased to inform her of that fact. Stephanie seemed impressed. I was a little taken aback when she said that he tends to go on a bit especially when he has everyone’s undivided attention. Her mother was the woman in the front seat with the blue floral dress looking proudly at her husband.

I had to ask the question as to why she wasn’t sitting with her mother and was informed that while she always attended church she was not always that attentive, that she got bored and found other things to do while her father preached to the congregation about the expulsion of sin.

I nodded knowingly, or rather unknowingly. I started to relax because Stephanie made me feel comfortable sitting next to her. It was as if we were both outsiders waiting for a game of rugby to start and that soon a ball would be kicked into the air and everyone would cheer when someone caught it.

Little did I know how my life would change within the forty-five minutes or so that the service would last.

Suddenly everything went quiet and everyone, except me, stood up to sing. I never knew there would be any singing. Stephanie never mentioned the fact that I would be required to join in. I stood up anyway but kept my mouth shut and listened to Stephanie’s wonderful voice sing loud and clear about all things bright and beautiful. I was left standing alone when everyone sat down just as quickly as they had stood up. It seemed you had to keep ahead of this game if you didn’t want to stand out in the crowd.

I stood out like a sore thumb.

Stephanie leaned in towards me and whispered in my ear. “This is where it gets boring,” she told me.

I smiled but kept looking straight ahead as her dad delivered his sermon.

“Wanna watch a movie instead?” She asked.

My eyebrows furrowed deeply, not knowing why she had asked that question or what movie she had in mind. I looked towards her as she pulled her mobile phone out of her bag. I couldn’t believe she was doing this, and it suddenly became clear that the film would have to be a silent one otherwise everyone would be turning the other way and watching us. I couldn’t see her father being happy with that!

She flicked through what looked like movies, started one up, and placed the phone sideways on top of the bible that sat on the small shelf attached to the bench in front of us and perched against the bench for support.

I looked in her direction and then at the phone. It took me a while to realise what I was watching. My jaw dropped open and I must have been catching flies for what seemed like ages. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her look at me and I could see the smile on Stephanie’s face get bigger and bigger until she had to cover her face with her hand to avoid the expulsion of a giggle.

I turned my head to make eye contact. She didn’t respond, she kept looking forwards listening to her dad; her eyes glancing at the video on the phone every so often. Occasionally she bit her lip.

Butter wouldn’t melt, they said.

But melt it did. In fact, all the butter in the world was, at that moment, flowing out of her not-so-innocent little mouth, over her breasts, and between her cleavage, sliding over her stomach and past her hot quim and pooling on the seat between her thighs.

I watched the video play out. I watched Stephanie on her bed at home. I watched as she waved at the camera and then blew a kiss towards it. I watched as she hooked her fingers into her panties and scoop them down and over her slender legs; discarding them on the floor. I watched her skirt rise as she spread her legs wide for the camera. I closed my mouth and gulped hard when her hand come down on her glistening slit before she inserted a finger into her pussy. It was a lewd act and all the time she looked directly into the camera. She even smiled at her audience – me!

I was mesmerised, transfixed, my eyes glued to the screen. I heard a loud booming voice in the church warn the congregation of the woes of life and living in our times but all my mind was interpreting was the juicy sounds of her fingers in her cunt. I glanced at her again and then back to the screen. I was just making sure that it was unmistakably her in the video. It was. This was no ordinary Sunday service and she was no innocent teenager.

I shook my head, not believing what I was seeing, but my cock was left in no doubt about what it was being told. I think I shivered, not from the cold but from the goosebumps that formed along my spine. I started to get uncomfortable and I had to shift in my seat to try and let it grow along the groove of my thigh and stomach.

That was when I noticed Stephanie looking straight ahead at her father, mouthing the words of the sermon that she must have heard a thousand times. Her legs spread apart, her skirt riding high on her thighs and her fingers gently clawing at her pussy over her yellow panties.

I was at a loss for words, but my cock spoke for me. It twitched in my pants and I could feel pre-cum leak from it. Seconds later a wet patch appeared just on the top of the pocket area of my trousers. It had already gone through three layers of fabric and all I could think of were suitable explanations to the rest of the congregation about why my pants were stained.

My eyes never left the video as I watched Stephanie push a sizeable dildo inside her cunt. I watched her let her head fall backwards, her body rise, her bottom push forwards and her mouth open. I shut out her father’s voice. All I could hear were the cries of ecstasy, the soft moans and groans of her impending orgasm.

Before I could say or do anything, her hand had extended and had grabbed at my erection. She squeezed it tightly. Her other hand rubbed on the outside of her panties but with every rotation of her hand, her fingers seemed to prise the fabric further to one side until I saw her pink slit appear. She rubbed furiously as she squeezed my cock.

To anyone in the congregation, she was sitting perfectly still, smiling at her father and nodding in all the right places, even looking at one or two of the people that were, at most, three rows down from us. One even turned to smile at her and she returned it without so much as a flick of her hand. I on the other hand was doing everything I could to stay calm and collected. I bowed my head in what looked like prayer but I was half watching Stephanie masturbate and half watching her squeeze my stiff cock. The most anyone would have surmised was the occasional closing of her eyes. But praying also has that effect on people. Not that Stephanie was praying – or maybe she was but it didn’t involve any love for the God she should have been praying to.

Her sweet aroma started to permeate my nostrils. Surely other people would smell it too? I looked around the room praying to myself that no one would turn to look at us. She didn’t seem to care about anyone else though. And there was I, earlier in the week wondering how she prayed at the edge of her bed. Well, now I knew. A thought popped into my head and I wondered whether her father and mother knew what she got up to at the pews at the back of the church.

I could feel her climax getting closer by the way she squeezed my cock in rapid succession. On the screen in front of me, she had discarded the dildo and had now taken hold of a vibrator and was holding it fast to her clit, I could see her pant as she held it still on her little nub, the same little nub that her fingers were circling; She was looking at herself get off and probably remembering what it actually felt like while I watched from beside her.

In general, I am a bit of a long stayer, but not on this occasion I was well out of my depth. I could see her clench her stomach with every twist of her hand and fingers. I could see her take in little gasps of air and her eyes close. With every gasp, her hand clenched tighter and tighter around my cock. Her orgasm was taking hold of her whole body as she rubbed furiously over her clit with two stiffened fingers.

Suddenly everyone stood up. The singing started again.

“What a friend we have in Jesus...” echoed through the cold hall.

Stephanie let out a stifled, “Fuck!” Her body shivered, but not from the cold and she clenched her thighs tightly, trapping her fingers in her needy hole and squeezed my cock for the last time. I shot my load. I could feel the silky fluids shoot outwards and accumulate under my pants. My jism soaked quickly into the cream coloured trousers and I was thankful I hadn’t worn the dark brown ones.

Stephanie suddenly stood up and joined in with the singing, “...everything to God in prayer!…” her voice reverberated at the back of the church.

Her legs appeared a little shaky and her hand held onto my shoulder for stability. There was no way I was standing up, not with the discolouration that was spreading across my trousers like wildfire. I waited for the hymn to finish and silently prayed that everything would be alright.

I grinned back at her when she looked down at me after starting the second verse. “Have we trials and temptations? Have we trouble anywhere?...” She nearly giggled at the second line and I nearly laughed out loud when I heard it.

Stephanie eventually leaned on the pew in front of us and continued to sing until the end. The whole incident left me wondering what the hell I was going to do with my pants full of spunk even the smell had reached my nostrils.

It has to be said, that women have the better deal when it comes to masturbation as long as they don’t squirt because when Stephanie stood up, her sex was instantly covered by her skirt despite it being red and raw from the rubbing it had just taken.

I marvelled at the way she controlled her breathing to sing, but she must have been well-practised at this kind of church service. I was certainly impressed with her service so far.

When the singing stopped she leaned into me, “I love watching myself cum in church,” she whispered.”It’s so horny, thank you for helping me cum.”

I opened my eyes wide. “What did I do?”

“Just being here with me. It took a lot longer last week when I was on my own.”

“That surprises me,” I shot back at her raising my eyebrows.

I saw Stephanie glance down at my trousers. “I’m so glad you jizzed in your pants,” I swear she licked her lips as she said those words.

She then proceeded to tell me that when the service ended I was to make my way quickly out of the front door and take a left turn and walk around to the side where there was a small unused doorway. I was to wait for her there. She told me she would bring something to clean me up.

I was glad she had a plan and I couldn’t wait to get out of there before people would wonder about the state I was in. At least my breathing had returned to normal.

The service finally ended, I made a quick exit and must have stood in that doorway for all of two minutes waiting for her to appear. I contemplated leaving but the sea of people walking down the driveway and out onto the main road seemed to be never-ending and just as slow as they had been entering the church.

Stephanie didn’t let me down; she was true to her word. She smiled as she sidled up to me.

“Did you enjoy that?” she asked.

“Amazing,” I said, “you are so fucking naughty.”

She giggled.

“Where are the paper towels?” I asked.

“Oh…we don’t need them,” she told me.

I frowned, not understanding why we wouldn’t need the towels after what had just happened.

Stephanie looked into my eyes as she loosened my belt. She stuffed her hand down my trousers and under my pants in the general direction of the sticky mess.

My mouth dropped open for a second time when she retrieved her hand full of spunk and proceeded to lick and swallow it clean before she dipped it back inside for more.

“So, you going to be a regular at church from now on?” she asked between cleaning me up.

“I think you’ve shown me the light in some respects,” I replied, “I…I just couldn’t believe my eyes when you started that video up.”

Stephanie didn’t reply, she only smirked as continued to scoop out all the remaining sperm that clung to the insides of my pants. In less than a minute, my cock and her hand were both clean.

That phrase ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ ran through my mind once again.

I instantly formulated a new one for Stephanie – ‘butter never had a fucking chance.’