CAMP DARE TURNED PREACHER'S KID INTO A WHORE 🍆🍆🍆

Hannah’s POV

I kissed my mom goodbye for the fourth time. “Make sure to come home with prizes.” I could hear Dad say as I walked out of our home.

“There's our pretty angel.” Uncle Fred said as I entered his car. I scoffed.

“Uncle Fred. Do I have to go to camp every season?” I asked. I felt something about this one was going to be different.

“Well, as a preacher's kid, if you wouldn't be there, who would?.”

I shook my head, so much for a preacher's kid,

too bad I wasn't as saintly as they thought. I wore my headphones. Music was my only remedy.

Where do I even start with Camp Willow Lake? It supposed to be this perfect Christian youth retreat, you know, the kind where faith and fun hold hands under God's watchful eye and don't forget the super “holy counselors” who acted like they had a direct line to heaven. Yeah, right.

We were given rules. No boys should be seen hanging around girls' cabins, and no girls should be found in the boys' cabins.

Rule no 2. No one should be found sneaking around after curfew. Security was tight, like knew we were some bunch of horny teens.

We all recited those rules at orientation, and our heads bowed like good little sheep. But come on, rules like that? They're basically begging to be broken, especially by someone like me who was dying for a taste of real life.

I'm Hannah Thompson, the preacher's daughter, twenty and fresh out of my first year at Bible college. My hair is always in a neat braid, dresses that screamed "modest" with no cleavage showing and outfits that stopped way below the knee. The other kids idolized me. The adults used me as the perfect example, whispering about how I would end up as a missionary or married to some boring youth pastor. And the boys? Oh, I was the centre of their fantasy. It was obvious from the way they looked at me, wondering what laid beneath my modest outfits.

Caleb Harlan, the camp's most popular badboy. He moved about with that smirk he wore on his face, one that said he heard every sermon on temptation but was till hell bent on being a tempter. Caleb was the guy smuggling in candy bars that tasted like forbidden heaven, telling ghost stories that caused the little ones to shiver in fear and flirting like it was his job.

We kept eyeing each other all week, It started innocently. I'm just kidding. During morning worship, I noticed him staring from the back, his eyes locking mine while I played my guitar and sang about grace. He would wink, and bam, I would start feeling butterflies in my stomach, my fingers missing a note. Or fumbling with a chord I knew damn well.

We were at the lake one afternoon, it was time for canoeing , Caleb handed me the paddle, I don’t know how, but he is always the one handing me a paddle, his rough fingers brushing mine way too long, sending electric sparks up my arm.

"Careful out there, preacher's girl," he teased, his voice deep and low. "I wouldn't want you getting wet." I was blushing like an idiot, muttering something about focusing on Jesus, but I came aware of my looks and my body.

“And what happens if I do.” I replied, watching as his eyes went down to my boobs.

“I have been watching, bet I'm not the only one dying to see a little bit of cleavage or your tits.” His lips curved into a smile.

I didn’t realise how cute he was until now. No, get thee behind me Satan. I shouldn’t nuture thoughts like that.

"Hannah, have you ever wondered what it's like to break the rules, the thrill of it?" he asked, all casual like we were chatting about the weather.

My heart paused for a bit as if giving my brain a chance to take in that information, but I shot him a look. "The Bible says flee from temptation, Caleb." He laughed, I felt it within me.

"Yeah, but that same bible says we're all sinners. We shouldn't waste that, it would be dope having fun with it." I didn't answer.

It that evening. During the bonfire, I kept stealing glances at Caleb, He would mouth the wrong words to hymns we all sangs just so I would laugh, "hallelujah" turned into "hot damn" and I would hide my giggles behind my songbook, our eyes locking across the flames. Careful not to draw attention to ourselves or we will be a topic of discussion for the whole summer.

The heat in his gaze sparked something deep inside me. The way his eyes watched my lips when I spoke, focused on my boobs while I danced to music. That night in my bunk, under the sheets, I touched myself for the first time imagining his hands, rough and demanding, instead of mine. I bit my pillow to muffle the gasps, my body shaking as I vibrated soaking myself with my cum.

It was the last camp, we held a massive bonfire. Some kids shared teary stories about how the week changed them, how much the learnt, the new friends the made. It sounded ridiculous to me, I kept rolling my eyes internally, feeling so bored.

As the fire died down and everywhere became dark, and the adults started snoring in their chairs, we the older kids, eighteen and above snuck off for one last round of truth and dares. It was this sneaky tradition we did every year.

The Dares began easy: sneak into the chapel and touch the altar without getting busted, the wood smooth and cool under my fingers in the dark. Then it got wild, the lead singer's son was asked to strip down to his underwear and cannonball into the lake which he did.

It was Caleb's turn, he rubbed his palm excitedly, studying the bottle like it was a math assignment, he spinned the bottle, I watched it spin till it stopped right in front of me. Caleb leaned back, his eyes landing on me, like he had just caught a big fish, my cheeks were flushed maybe from the fire, or the way he stared at me.

"I dare Hannah the preacher’s kid to fuck me in the chapel. Tonight. Right under that big old cross."

The atmosphere became calm and quiet, but all eyes on me, waiting for the holy meltdown. My cheeks burned from embarrassment.

I should've been upset, quoting Bible verses about blasphemy and storming off to snitch. But nope. I met his eyes across the flames, saw that mix of challenge and pure want, and felt this hot, liquid rush between my legs that I had been ignoring all week. My voice came out calm, shocking even me: “You’re on Caleb.”

They started whispering around us. Someone whistled. Caleb grinned like he had just won the lottery. “Damn, preacher’s girl. I didn't think you had it in you.”

We didn't go right away, we waited till everyone went back to their cabin, after some fake yawns and good nights. What the hell was I doing? This was nuts, straight-up sacrilege. But that need to be laid said screw it, making me feel alive in a way no prayer ever did.

When the last counselor left, Caleb came behind me like a ghost, “Ready to sin, Hannah?” I nodded, unable to utter any word.

I let him grab my hand, his palm rough and warm. We sneaked into the pines, crickets chirping like they were cheering us on. I was hyper-aware of my cotton panties, already soaked and clinging to my cunt.