How the hell did Elle made her way to a church’s annual camping weekend retreat? That was a very farfetched thing to expect off from the 24-year-old. Elle perpetually joked in eternity that whenever she stepped into a church, she felt like she might burn up – which was more or less something akin to sacrilege to herself. Though in jest, Elle was very serious about it considering that her family had been trying to fix her, of sorts, by sending her to a Catholic private school to straighten her out. The family hoped that Elle would be more or less be more sensible and primmer in her personality, if not by religion nor by the routine and proper education.
Elle had her first time in said private school – and then had some, with the teachers, and the occasional priest.
Safe to say, the school expelled her after finding out.
While she never blamed the school, or that the school never tried, Elle’s interests were more attuned elsewhere at that time, and that taste brought her far into life when she entered high school and then college, going far as to sleep her way in some good grades, keeping it a secret to herself as Elle Sinclair embodied that small part of her name – sin. Elle loved life as much as any promiscuous young woman and even if she was not flamboyant, nor was she parading that fact around, most of the men in her life knew that to have a good time, find the sexy young blonde with lush lips and a figure to die for in the city of Los Angeles.
That never really answered the question of why Elle was here in a camping retreat for the weekend in the first place. It was that she was invited, and had it anyone else that invited her to follow along, she would have said no. However, the man inviting her was someone from her past – coincidentally, from the same private school that she attended back when she was a young girl. Antonio Herrera was one of her teachers in the school and had he crumbled back when she teased him relentlessly in the subway station one day while they were out on a school trip, he would have been another of the men who had tasted Elle in her youth.
Fortunately, or was it unfortunately, for him, he resisted, and moved away once he had a better job offer, and Elle thought that was the last she saw of the man. However, by a stroke of chance or by luck, she bumped into him again, coincidentally at a subway station in Los Angeles once more, and the rest was history. A hand over his bulge in his pants, and Elle was just perfect in all ways for Antonio, and he ravished her, repeatedly.
And again, here she found herself getting ready to be used and played by the older man, without a care in the world that his wife, and other folks outside the tent, were doing their activity. She laughed lightly, leaning into Antonio’s touch, his hand slipping around her waist, feeling calloused fingers grab her by her ass, over the panties she wore, as she smirked. “Not exactly.” She teased. “I mean… you can just do me without.” Elle’s hand palmed over the man’s bulge as her fingers stroked him from over the clothing confines, the outline of his sex warm to her touch. “It’s still not cheating, you know, Mr. Herrera.” Elle added, smirking teasingly at him.
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