I was pleasantly surprised when I met Brian. It was rare to blindly meet and find that they didn't lie about themselves over the phone. He was a tall, dirty blond with a lean frame and nice toned arms coming from his fitted white t-shirt. He had been totally upfront about who he was - and total party boy. I'm always attracted to confident guys and he had this in abundance. He was very sure of himself – a total turn on for me. There's a subtle seduction in someone saying: “This is who I am. Deal with it.”
I tried to do the same when I described myself: A cute, curvy, African-American girl with almonds-shaped brown eyes - someone who loved life and wanted to experience all that I could. I didn't want anyone to think they were getting Halle Berry. But I was okay with my thickness and who I was. It was silly to pretend to be someone I wasn't.
It was at an unusual time in my life. Remembering now, it was like another person, living another life. I had been living a celibate life. I considered myself a born-again virgin being that I was a born-again Christian.
It had been so damn long since I had done co-ed push-ups that I was sure my hymen had grown back, that my cherry and un-popped (re-popped?!). I did not have sex, by choice, because of my strong religious beliefs, with the goal of waiting until I was married. This lasted years. Yes, a plural number of years - more than one year, more than two...I won't even tell you how long because you won't believe it. I don't even believe it and I was there!
I wasn't a total dud or a nun. I did go on dates and was living a pretty decent life. My dates were only guys in my church who had the same beliefs. So essentially we avoided pretty much any situation that could offer TEMPTATION. I had gotten serious a couple of times and nothing worked out with each guy leaving the church life in turn. So I essentially went a long time not even KISSING anyone.
I survived by what I called my two “Na'tions” – my imaginaTION and good old masturbaTION. But even that was a little tainted as my church believed that even masturbation was wrong. So when I did it I had to make it good because it would have to last until my next “weak” moment.
But let's go back to my meeting with Brian. He was not religious in any way, a plus because I didn't want judgment. We talked over the phone a few times. And had nearly met a couple of times before. Now finally we were standing outside his house, in a rich suburb outside of Chicago, checking each other out.
It was one of those lovely, warm summer nights with the sweet night air blowing, the moon bright in the sky and amorous intentions in the air.
“You're really pretty,” he was saying, obviously relieved.
I could relate. I was thankful to be actually attracted to the person behind the voice. A sort of conversation and interview proceeded. We both were a little nervous, I more than him. There was a nice tension that was building between us and thankfully, meeting in person hadn't changed it. We clearly were as attracted to each other as we were speaking on the phone. Gradually he closed the physical gap between us, but still it seemed sudden when he crushed me against his car with his lean body, caressed my face, and kissed me
Just a kiss, right? But it had been literally years since I've been kissed. Since I had kissed someone. Since my tongue felt the slippery pressure of another seeking it. Since another tongue jostled with mine for dominance in a need for satisfaction . No, it wasn't just a kiss, it was an epic visceral event for me.
“So what are you wearing?”
This question would always come up. It was predictable to a point where it was funny and I wouldn't get offended anymore.
“You have a nice voice.”
This was another one that was familiar.
“So you wanna meet?”
Joining a phone chat line was an interesting experience. It was an experiment for my curious nature and just something different to do. I wanted to meet people who were not in my circle of church friends. If I happen to meet just the right guy I would take it further.
Brian's body pressed against mine as he greeted my mouth, and in the most perfect way. It was a sweet, deep and sensual kiss. It was delicious, and my hungry little mouth wanted more. I felt tormented by the indulgence of his touch along my curves. It was like getting a piece of bread after going hungry for weeks. Or like drinking Gatorade after a long period of dehydration. My body sank into his, soaked him up in the most unrestrained way.
He had no clue what he was doing to me – or maybe he did – considering what happened next. I felt greedy for more of him and more of his hands on my body.
We found ourselves inside of his car. I remember having no intention of going as far as things eventually went. There was more kissing on my juicy lips, more manna to my mouth. His hand left my back and made a trail of goosebumps up my side and caressed my breast through my shirt. Not satisfied, he untucked my shirt, caressed my stomach and moved up until he connected with breast, tweaked nipple through my bra with a circling of his thumb.
I was pretty much totally surrendered at this point. My super sensitive nipples were, are, my weakness. If touched just the right way, they are a direct line to crotch. Their like tiny buzzers, that when manipulated, would let permit any visitor into the building. He pretty much had me at this point.
Outside of the occasional hand-holding and hugs, I hadn't been touched in a long time. I hadn't been felt-up like this or gotten this kind of intense attention in so very long.
I felt a wave of shock when he gripped the round mocha scoops of naked breasts. My stiff nipples dug into his palms. “The girls” were used to only my touch on those many occasions when I had to take care of myself. Now they were humbled by a pair of strong male hands.
He dragged his mouth down the thin flesh of my throat and with a dip his head under my top, his mouth eagerly found and kissed my tits. This was another sensation I had missed, that hot mouth, moist and hungry around my tender dark raisin nips. And while he sucked, licked and lapped at my tits, his hand was stroking the crotch of my pants. My legs instinctively opened wider and he undid my zipper and I squirmed from his heated touch.
I had been passive until about here. I ran my hand under his shirt and raked my fingers over his chest and down his stomach, enjoying the taut and soft hairy feel of a man's body. Ever the gentlemen, Brian undid his fly for me and then went back to attending my boobs and pussy.
He buried his hands down my pants until he fingers were making contact with my freshly shaven and now thoroughly wet pussy. I gasped at the jolt of pleasure as he targeted and aggressively cuddled my plump clit. My hips joined in with his stroking rhythm as he played my lonely, neglected little cunt, giving it some much deserved attention.
My own fingers were busy clutching the length of his wonderful hard-on. It had been awhile but like the saying goes, it was like riding a bicycle. But still, I was amazed that I was stroking a hard dick and that I was on a brink of having sex with someone.
Brian was heavy, breathing into my ear, begging me to cum as he continued to finger me, his fingers moving in and out of my keyhole . It didn't take long before I was reaching that end, cumming hard against his hand, whimpering and moaning into his mouth. I opened my eyes after being carried away on high seas of an orgasm, and in the moonlit car I could see that he seemed nearly as pleased as I was.
He slid his cum soaked hand from my saturated cunt and sucked my juices from his fingers with zeal.
“You taste sweet.”
“You mean slang for good?”
“No literally, sweet.”
Okay, I don't remember exactly how that conversation went but he did verify that I literally tasted sweet to him.
That was about the time when he lost his shit, and he went from lustful calm to a frustrated urgency. A condom came out of nowhere, and he climbed on me with as much grace as he could in the confinement of the car. His pants went down, mine went down a little more and he was driving his steely hard dick into my permissive pussy. Tight from a long time of disuse, I'm sure it felt like virgin pussy, born-again virgin pussy.
The strain of my walls being stretched was welcomed, the rush of being filled astonishing. And to have the weight of a partner on me, to be pleasing someone in that way, and to be getting my own jollies, and not by own hand, was joyous. Every feeling of guilt, wrongdoing, shame was gone in these moments and replaced with rapturous delight. Sexual healing is a real, legit thing. And frankly, getting hot and sweaty, while getting fucked hard really took the pain away, if only for a short-term.
Every good thing comes to end and soon Brian was having one of his happiest, cumming hard and making me laugh when he broke into a sort of silly laughter over what we had just done.
I still wonder if he had this all planned – seeing how far he could go, how far I would let him get away with, maybe not expecting me to go quite so far on our first meeting.
I spoke to Brian a couple of times after that but it was basically a one-night stand, my first actually! I had surprised myself that night. I wasn't totally done with the religious life just yet. But this night was an important step, an important beginning.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/a-tale-of-a-bornagain-virgin.aspx">A Tale of A Born-Again Virgin</a>