The World’s First Futa – Futa’s Naughty Hitchhiking

Chapter Two: Futa’s First Sinful Delight

By mypenname3000

Copyright 2018

April 17th, 2047

“Did you know there’s a convent in the middle of the Nebraska cornfields?” I asked Adelia, the delicious and fun woman interviewing me on my forty-eight birthday. We were talking about my life as the world’s first futa while across the world people were watching the broadcast streamed live over the internet.

“Really?” Adelia asked, blinking those soft-brown eyes of her. She pursed those delicious lips that had sucked my futa-cock not long ago during the last commercial break. “No, I didn’t know that. So you found this while… wandering?”

“Bumming around America,” I said, “with my futa-dick in hand.” I shivered, enjoying talking about that time in my life, right after I graduated from the University of Washington, when I hitchhiked across America for awhile, aimless.

I didn’t know what to do with my life. Besides breeding horny women.

“After my fun with the Pelley family, and the rest of their interesting church community, I kept heading east until I hit Dallas. I had some fun there but ended up wandering north up I-35. I met this female trucker.” I gave a wicked giggle. “She had a strap-on in her cab and, well, I made her late for her delivery, but left her with my own package.”

A great giggling laugh rose from the studio audience. I could feel their eyes watching me in the shadows beyond the stage light, an amorphous sea of horny women with a scattering of my grown-up futa-daughters.

“She dropped me off in Wichita. I kept going north up I-135, moving through Kansas, enjoying those devout Christian wives and daughters.” I shuddered, my futa-cock throbbing. “There was a lot of crying out to God.”

“More virgins deflowered?” Adelia asked.

“I was becoming addicted to it,” I said and shivered. “By the time I was in the middle of Nebraska, I-135 had become Highway 81. I was surrounded by corn somewhere south of a place called York. It was muggy. I never thought it would be so humid in the Midwest. It was like I was in a swamp or something. Apparently, corn sweats.”

“Sweats?” Adelia asked.

I nodded my head. “It adds a ton of moisture to the air and makes the summers just suck.” I shook my head. “I was dying, wanting to find a nice, cool place to rest up and a friendly woman to love, when the thunderstorm hit. It came out of nowhere. The floodgates of heaven opened up. In a heartbeat, I was soaked.

“And then the hail started.”

“Oh, no,” Adelia gasped. “I heard hailstones can get big out there.”

“I was just starting to panic, thinking I was in trouble,” I said, glancing to the left where my wife, Sharron, watched from the side of the set, her blue eyes wide. “And then the van pulled up. I just hopped in and had one naughty surprise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 15th, 2021

“Holy shit!” I screamed, holding my worn backpack over my head. The hail thundered down around me, the size of pebbles and growing larger. They bounced off my backpack and pelted my naked calves and thighs. I whimpered, my t-shirt soaked to my tits, my skirt clinging to my legs. My shoes felt like a sodden mess. The drainage ditch to my right already ran like a river.

The rain just started.

“What the fuck is going on?” I shouted, the corn rustling beside me as torrents of rain swept through, carrying more of the stinging hail.

I was in trouble. My head cast about, searching for a structure to take shelter in when rubber squealed. A van screeched to a stop by the side of the highway. I barely absorbed what it looked liked—gray, boxy, some sort of logo on the sliding side door. I just sprang at the passenger door, grasped the chrome-plated handle, and wrenched it open.

“Oh, thank Christ,” I gasped as I hurtled inside, water dripping down my face. My clothes clung to me, squishing against the seat. The hail pounded on the roof. Ice chucks the size of marbles drummed on the hood, leaving little divots in the metal.

A small crack splintered across a corner of the windshield.

“You okay?” a woman asked. “Boy, you got caught out in it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I…” My words trailed off as I glanced at the driver. I blinked.

I blinked again.

A nun in a black habit sat in the driver seat, her plump lips pursed. She had a round, youthful face, her dark hair mostly covered by a black veil that draped across her shoulders. A crucifix dangled down her chest over the swell of her breasts. They rose and fell as she stared at me, a look of such concern filled her hazel eyes.

“You’re a nun!” I blurted out.

“Yes, I am a nun,” she said as the van drove forward. “We exist still. I’m Sister Chastity Hope of the Benedictine Sisters of Undying Devotion.”

“A nun,” I said again. “That’s not a Halloween costume and… No, no, that would be a lot… uh…”

“Lewder?” she suggested, a touch of color blossoming her cheeks. Her eyes glanced at me, flicking at my breasts outlined by my soaked shirt. My braless tits bled through the white cloth, my pink nipples prominent points.

“Yeah,” I said, squirming. A tingle raced down to my girl-dick and pussy. My shaft gave a twitch as the blood began flowing. There was something so… enticing about her. She was a nun, wrapped up in the bulky, black robe to hide the beauty of her body, sworn to purity.

Was she an actual virgin?

My dick hardened faster. My pussy grew juicier.

“Well, thanks for the ride,” I said, the hail drumming faster. “You came along just in time.”

“The Lord’s providence was with you today,” she said. “I’ve seen the hail get as big as softballs and… Well, that would not be a good thing to happen to a young woman to do out here all alone.” She glanced at me then at my bag. “Are you in… trouble?”

“No, no, just seeing America,” I said. “I’m Becky Woodward.” My smile grew. “Yes, yes, that Becky Woodward.”

She blinked at me and tilted her head. “I’m sorry, but… I’ve never heard of a Becky Woodward.”

“You haven’t?” I didn’t realize how big my ego had swelled until I felt the sharpness of her words puncture it. I thought they entire world had heard of me. “I’m the first futa.”

“Futa?” she asked, glancing at me again. Her eyes flicked down to my breasts. Then they darted back up to stare down the road.

“Yeah, I’ve been interviewed like a hundred times. I’ve been all the news networks, all the morning shows, the evening shows. Kimmel, Colbert, John Oliver, Conan, Jimmy Fallon.”

“Oh, well, we don’t have TVs or radios at our convent.”

“And no computers, either, huh?” I asked, my shoulders slumping.

“The only news we get comes from the diocese,” she said. “We’re a cloistered order, cut off from the world.” She patted my leg for a moment, her touch so warm compared to the wet skin. The heat rushed up to my pussy. My snatch clenched and my dick swelled harder, tenting the front of my sodden jean skirt. “I’m sure other people know who you are, though pride like that is not a good thing. It won’t be fulfilling for you.”

“Yeah,” I said, her touch electric.

She drove one-handed for about a minute, stroking the other up and down my bare thigh. It felt wonderful. I leaned back into the chair, not minding my blonde locks clinging to my face or my clothing molded to my body. Her touch warmed me up, my girl-dick aching to have some fun.

With a nun.

Could her vow of purity hold out against her womb begging to be impregnated.

Then Sister Chastity Hope gave a squeak and jerked her hand away. She shifted in the seat, both gripping the steering wheel. Her knuckles went white as she stared ahead. Her entire body went tense. She leaned forward, almost trying to hug her steering wheel.

She looked so cute. She couldn’t be more than a year or two older than me, in her mid-twenties.

“So, where are we going?” I asked.

“Hmm?” Sister Chastity Hope asked, her cheeks blushing redder. “Oh, yes, the convent. I was just buying supplies for our garden. We try to grow as much of our own food as we can.”

“The convent?” I said, a wicked smile spreading across my lips. “How utterly delightful. I wouldn’t mind getting a tour. Exploring every little crevasse of your convent. Seeing what it’s like. I bet it’s… interesting.”

She shivered, licking her lips. “I… well, maybe. It’s not really a place for outsiders. I can just drive you to York and…”

I touched her thigh. Her words trailed off as I stroked her through the fabric of her habit. I felt her flesh. She felt sleek and warm. She glanced at me, her pupils dilated. She swallowed as I stroked up and down her.

“W-what are you doing, Becky?” Sister Chastity Hope asked.

“Just returning the favor. It felt soooooo nice when you stroked my thigh.” I gave her leg a squeeze before sliding a little higher, passing the halfway point of her leg, reaching towards that naughty apex. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“I… I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did. I’m feeling… out of sorts.”

“Mmm, me, too,” I said, squirming. “But if you don’t want me to touch you…” I pulled my hands away.

Sister Chastity Hope bit her lower lip. Her hands writhed on the vinyl covering of the steering wheel. A squeaking sound echoed through the cab. She squirmed in place, her breasts rising and falling as she shook her head. She looked so tense. So nervous.

I loved it.

She made a turn off the highway, passing through a sign that read, “Convent of Undying Devotion.” I shivered, peering ahead for it. What would a convent look like. Would it be this stone, Gothic structure out in the middle of the fields? It wasn’t corn here, but wild grasses that grew waist high. The van’s wheels crunched on the gravel as we drove down the lane. It followed the curve of the land, a little folded here and not as flat as it appeared.

Sister Chastity Hope squirmed the entire way.

Ahead, a wooden structure appeared. It looked like… a very large house. It was clear it was meant to shelter more than just a family. It had several wings thrust off of it and rose three stories high in the center, the entire structure covered in wood siding painted a robin blue.