It was the last hour of class, and we had History with Mother Camila. That woman was a MILF through and through, even if she had no children to justify those sinful curves. She wore the traditional nun's habit, but there was no cloth in the world that could hide her body. She was fat, yes, but in a way that made you want to sink your face into her: tits so huge they overflowed under the habit, so heavy they were sure to fuck up her back, and a wide, meaty ass that quivered with every step.
She was a pasta fanatic, and it showed in every inch of her plump flesh. Her blonde hair peeked out in unruly bangs under her headdress, and her blue eyes, bright as the sky, looked at you with a mixture of sweetness and authority. Everyone in high school loved her; I myself remembered when I was younger and she, still a sister, would slap my ass playfully, her fat hands leaving a warmth that made me blush.
My gaze drifted from Mother Camilla to Chelsea, sitting next to me. She was looking at her cell phone under the desk, the light from the screen reflecting in her blue eyes. I could have ratted her out, but I didn't feel like being the shit snitch. She noticed I was looking at her and looked up, staring at me with those cold eyes.
I dodged her gaze quickly, pretending to write down what Mother Camilla was saying, but I felt her gaze fix on me, as if she was undressing me with her eyes. I played crazy, scribbling on the paper as my cock began to tighten against my uniform pants, imagining for a second those fat Chelsea tits bouncing as I fucked her against the desk.
Class ended, and I was left to clean up as custodian. Sweeping the classroom, I thought of Mother Camilla bent over her desk, her fat ass peeking out from under her habit, but I shook my head to get the image out of my mind. I handed the broom back to the janitor and realized I had forgotten my backpack.
I returned to the classroom, and there it was: Chelsea's backpack, abandoned next to her desk. The janitor, a grumpy old man with a grumpy face, caught me in the hallway and said he was going to lock up. "A classmate left her backpack behind," I explained, pointing to it. "Take it and give it to her tomorrow," he grunted, scratching his beard.
I nodded, grabbed Chelsea's backpack and took it home, my mind spinning. It weighed more than I expected, and for a moment I imagined what would be inside: naked pictures of her, those huge tits dripping with sweat as she touched herself? My cock throbbed again, and I picked up my pace on the bike, anxious to get to my room.
I got home with my ass dragging after pedaling like crazy, went up to my room and threw Chelsea's backpack in the middle of the floor. I bolted the door shut, the click echoing in my head like a gunshot, and stared at that bag like it was going to bite me.
"What the fuck does she have in it?"
"Dildos?"
"Ben Wa Balls?"
I knew that opening it was getting into someone else's shit, but curiosity ate at me like a hungry dog. I sat on the bed, sweating like a pig, and finally gave in. "Just a peek," I grunted, unzipping it with trembling hands.
I pulled out something that left me open-mouthed: a VRChrome, a futuristic full-immersion helmet, black and shiny, with red lines pulsing like veins. It was a device that swallowed you whole and plunged you headfirst into digital worlds, something I'd seen in online ads and storefronts, always drooling to try it. My parents had forbidden it to me as if it were a gateway to hell, and I didn't even have a computer to watch porn, just a 2011 phone that barely carried blurry tits.
I kept poking around, finding tampons and feminine hygiene stuff, until I came across something that made my blood run cold. There it was, the unmistakable cover: that fat, busty Aborigine, her dark breasts bouncing as a bunch of white settlers fucked her mercilessly. Sacred Arena Online. The game my father wanted to wipe off the map, the same one that had made me jerk off to the point of smearing my crucifix, was in my house.
My mother had gone out to do "some business" and my father was in Thailand for five days. I was alone, all alone, with that forbidden thing staring at me from the backpack. My cock was already hard just thinking about it. "Just once," I muttered, plugging in the helmet with shaky wires. I lay back on the bed, put it on and closed my eyes.
Everything went white, then black, and suddenly things started loading. A floating screen appeared in front of me: "User detected. Please log in." There I was, digitized, fucking realistic: my black eyes, my tousled black hair, my skinny body… and my cock hanging in the air, uncensored, rock-hard and veined.
I looked down at my virtual hands, then looked down at my crotch, and a moan almost escaped me. "Pick a username," the screen said. I didn't want anyone to recognize me if I got caught, so I typed "Rico" into the air with trembling fingers.
I added a fake email and password: "6_9_10." I clicked "OK," and my vision went black again. When I opened my eyes, I was in a forest so real I could smell the damp earth and feel the cool air on my bare skin. I looked down at my hands: I was still unclothed, vulnerable, my cock swinging between my legs as the wind brushed my balls.
I was inside Sacred Arena Online, and my heart was pounding as if I was going to fuck something—or have something fuck me—at any moment.