31[M]y First Time with my Catholic 21[F]riend [Long]

We’d been going on dates now and then for literally months. Camila lives an hour away with her family (she’s a law student) so arranging dates was a challenge to say the least. She and I disagree on… well, most things, actually. Religion, politics, you name it. But she’s smart, fun to talk to, and has a body to die for. 5’2″, gorgeous hispanic ass, tiny waist, flat stomach, perky breasts, long dark hair and dark eyes, delicate features–the kind of body that doesn’t last long into a woman’s 20s unless she puts an enormous amount of effort into it. She’s also 100% serious about not having sex before marriage, and after many patient (sort of) months we’d never done more than make out. She said she had never even masturbated before.

It was kind of working for me, though. My year started out kind of weird and I needed to not be in a serious relationship or flitting from date to date. This lowkey involvement was perfect. Plus, I’m into the whole edging thing and this was a whole new level.

Her father is super controlling so we never spent more than 2 or 3 hours together, so when she texted and said if I was free she would skip work and come see me, I was ecstatic.

She shows up at my apartment in yoga pants and a little bit of midriff showing–*not* her usual conservative ensemble at all–and blood starts pre-emptively relocating from one head to the other. She sidles up to me, so close I smell her, and says… “don’t get any ideas cutie, let’s watch a movie.”

Oh. Right.

Which is how we ended up spooning on my sofa while we watched *The Conjuring* (which is actually pretty good, as horror movies go). She was clearly in a mischievious mood because she never went more than a minute or two without wiggling, just a little, so subtly that if she hadn’t kept doing it I might have thought it was accidental. My right arm was wrapped around her and whenever my hand wandered too far–over her breasts, underneath her shirt, circling beneath the waist of her pants–she swatted it away–but not hard, and only after letting it go microscopically further than it had gone the last time.

It was one of those excruciating, ecstatic games that I remember from when–well, when I was her age, and younger.

It was well over an hour into the movie before my fingers brushed over her bare nipples and her breath caught. I expected her to brush my hand away, but instead she rested a hand on my arm. I slow-played, circling her stomach and breasts and nipples in lazy circles until I felt her impatience, then grazing her nipples or lightly rolling them between my fingers while her fingers dug into my arm.

My hand wandered down and I stroked her inner thighs. I guess that she was ready to push my hand away, so instead I circled again and again, returned to her breasts, then again teased her thighs until her hips began pushing toward my hand–and still, for several minutes, I pretended I didn’t notice. Then I took my hand away entirely, placed one finger between her legs so far back it was nearly at her asshole, then dragged it upward over her vagina and brushing her clit. She gasped, and I did the same thing once more, feeling her moisture already making her pants damp, then brought my hand back up.

The climax of the movie began and it was too distracting too make much headway other than getting her shirt off for easier access (and holy fuck was that a thing of beauty), but when the credits came on Camila made no sign of moving. I decided to test my luck a bit and did that one move, hooking my thumb over her pants and pull down a little, an obvious request to take her pants off while at the same time making it clear that her underwear would stay on. She didn’t even hesitate, but lifted slightly so I could pull the pants down.

I wanted to kiss every inch of her exposed body, but it was time to get back to safer territory. I played the same game with her thighs, the sensations now magnified by the absense of clothing. When my finger dragged up her panties, I could feel them slide across her wetness and I pressed down just a little, eliciting an adorable, quiet moan that stoked the fire in my blood. I fought the urge to rush, continuing to tease. Eventually my impatience got the better of me and I pressed my middle finger between her lips over her panties, then began making tiny circles. Her breath came heavy and her hips were gently pushing into my finger.

The safe move was to test my fingers beneath her panties, but that risked the rhythm we’d established and, also, I don’t like it. My hand gets tired from fighting against the material. So I hooked my thumb over her underwear and her eyes shot open. She turned her head and found me. “My pants are still on,” I said. Which was a statement of fact, but also a promise. She lifted, more slowly this time, and I slid her underwear down her legs, chuckling when they caught on one foot.

The rhythm had been interrupted anyway, so I turned her so she was on her back instead of her side and began kissing her, slowly and deliberately, coordinating with my hands which were once again touching everywhere except where she was most sensitive.

Eventually I felt her tension recede. I circled between her legs and she tensed again, and so I backed off and waited, returning again and again until her nerves were well and truly forgotten by her muscles. And then, just like before, I dragged a finger all the way up, allowing my finger to dip into her soaking hole–her moan was louder, longer this time–and easing up as it brushed her clit.

I increased my pace as slowly as I could force myself to, and begin dipping my finger all the way inside her. Even that felt tight, and it was a while before I could introduce a second finger, and never for a prolonged period. She enjoyed having her clit played with, but she went wild when I started to finger fuck her in earnest, wrapping her arms around me and breathing hard into my neck, long past being able to concentrate on kissing.

Not longer after, I felt her begin to tense up and I fixed my pace, being sure not to speed up or slow down and accidentally break her focus. She clamped down on me and I did my best to keep going as she came, and came, and came, her sweat beading on her forehead and her breath coming fast ragged; after what felt like an eternity, she grabbed my hand and said “stop, stop” and I withdrew my hand, immediately wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close so we were spooning again. I had been rock hard for a while, but the exertion had eventually calmed me down and now I felt nothing but tenderness and excitement–you know, the excitement you get when you’re thinking, “I did awesome and she’s about to tell me!”

By the time I fully adjusted my position, she was fast asleep, curled against me. It was heart-breakingly cute. I carried her to my bed and put a blanket over her, and then, somehow, I fell asleep.

I woke up after some indeterminate amount of time. Maybe half an hour? Camila hadn’t moved an inch. I wanted to take my pants off–for the obvious reason, but also because they weren’t that comfortable–but that felt like a betrayal of our unspoken agreement. So I laid there, taking some time to appreciate her spectacular bare ass. And then my blood began migrating again, and my good sense with it.

And so I licked the middle finger of my right hand and slid it between her legs. I maneuvered my finger past her outer lips and–there it was. I don’t know quite what I expected, but Camila was still *drenched*. She moved not a muscle as I began pumping in and out of her. I worked my index finger inside her where there was finally just enough room for two fingers. I went slowly, watching her for signs that she was waking up.

I think she was moaning before she really came to. She never opened her eyes, just lazily rocked into my hand. Emboldened by my success, I got my thumb wet and put it over her asshole so it slide around as I went in and out of her. I felt her sudden excitement in her movement, in her breath, and sounds she made. As stealthily as I could manage, I squeezed a little bottle of lube I’d had ready on the bedside table onto my left hand. Most of it slide off and landed on the sheets, but enough remained for me to rim her with it, and then, slowly, press inside her, my fingers filling two holes that had never been touched.

Almost immediately the energy changed and her moans became more gutteral and frantic. Her eyes weren’t open, but her face was a mask of pleasure–the ugly kind, the ugly beautiful kind you make when you’ve stopped caring how you look–and she was pushing back *hard* on my fingers. The lube was wearing thin on my thumb and when it slipped out I decided not to go back in, even though she gave a little whimper of disappointment. I let her set the pace and wrapped the fingers of my right hand around her throat with some gentle pressure and she rode my fingers until she came, harder this time, louder, rougher. This time she was asleep almost before she finished. If she opened her eyes once, I didn’t see it.

I went to the bathroom to wash my hands–I like to let the scent linger, but not if I’ve been in both holes–and then returned. I desperately wanted to not be wearing pants, so I compromised. I put the blanket over her and laid next to her, but not under the blanket, then took off my jeans and shirt. I tried to keep from touching myself, knowing it would only make things worse. I turned away from her, scooted back so we were butt cuddling, and went in for nap #2.

This time, she woke up before I did. When my eyes opened, it was to soft kisses on my neck arm. She was no longer naked, but only had panties on. I smiled and turned to look at her and saw things in her eyes. Tenderness and affection but also other things. The weight of expectation, the pressure to speak words that would encapsule the things she was feeling. I took her head in my hands and kissed her gently (it was my only option; I didn’t have dragon breath but I *did* have, I don’t know, lizard breath), and said the words that I guessed she needed to hear: “You were amazing. And you don’t owe me anything.”

In response, she kissed me more deeply–or tried, anyway; I *really* wished I’d brushed my teeth earlier. I was on my back now, and she kissed my arms, my chest, and my stomach. And then, my mind exploded like a cartoon bomb as she pulled down my boxer briefs and I sprang free.

Some time ago, she’d confessed that a couple times, she’d rubbed her ex-boyfriend guy through his pants until he came, so I figured (and she later confirmed) that this was the most up close and personal she’d ever been to a penis. A few thoughts went through my mind; just the sort of thoughts you have when you showered that morning but a lot of sweat has happened in the interim and you kind of wish you could sniff yourself but also you don’t *really* want to know. And she looked so solemn, and I almost stopped her, fearing that despite my best efforts she felt pressured. I say almost, but with her eyes locked to mine, my erect penis inches from her face, her hand moving to grip it at the base with the gentlest touch, I never stood a chance.

By the time, the slightest sensation was magnified for me tenfold, and if you are not into edging it’s hard to explain the depth of my exquisite surprise when her tongue tentatively licked the sensitive tip.

She wasn’t teasing me–or at least, not on purpose. She doesn’t watch porn and has never seen a blowjob. And so she licked and licked for a wonderful torturous eternity until I couldn’t bear it anymore and I said, doing my best to make it a request, “I want to feel your mouth on me so badly.” I saw a connection form for her; she suddenly understood the power she wielded. She continued to lick, sometimes nearly taking me in her mouth and then pulling back at the last minute. She actually giggled at least once, losing her hold on decorum as she enjoyed this new game that I had played with her earlier. Giggling isn’t great boner food, but I already felt like I was going to blow if she breathed on me the wrong way so I was almost grateful.

And then the warmth of her mouth engulfed me. She had no idea what to do and only managed a few inches, but she didn’t use any teeth (thank god) and her lips and tongue were infinitely soft and it felt un-fucking-believable. A few minutes later I told her I was close and, to my horror, she sat up. Just, sat up. I had barely any blood in my thinking head but I knew I couldn’t just, you know, order her back down and it seemed like the wrong time to lecture her about the timing of when a blowjob should stop if you’re not inclined to swallow.

She was looking at me expectantly, maybe expecting me to come right then? So I improvised, pulling her on top of me so my length was pressed against her, only a thin layer of fabric between us. She leaned down and kissed my chest, then began to rock her hips slowly forward and back. It was incredibly hot to watch, but the friction was actually kind of painful and I was on the verge of switching tactics when I saw her pull the panties a little to one side, and suddenly she was gliding over me. She was so wet, and my impulse was to help her come again, but I knew I was on borrowed time already. She began to lift a little each time so my penis would lift, poised to enter… and then she would slide forward over me, eliciting groans from me that I could not stop. Her body was moving with the purpose and ease of millions of years of evolution, and I could feel the inevitability of the moment, the convergence of the angles as she lifted higher, the certainty that this time, or the next, I would slide into her.

It took only three more tries; we lined up and–I pushed forward, runing the angle. Camila opened her eyes wide, both disappointed and grateful. I smiled wryly. There is such a thing as covering too much ground in a single day. Naturally, I regretted the decision almost immediately, but luckily, it was too late, and Camila’s resolve had reformed.

But she rocked back and forth, not lifting anymore, her juiced dripping over me, her hands knotted up in my hair for leverage. I felt it building in me, building and building until come shot out of me, hard enough to land against her entire chest (which is impressive for me; I’m ususally more of a dribbler than a gusher). A few more pulses ensured that every single piece of fabric on my bed would need washing, and then I leaned back, profoundly spent.

She cleaned herself off a bit and then came to me, putting her head on my shoulder. We didn’t fall asleep again, but we laid like that a long while.

She and I haven’t had a day like that again, and probably won’t for a while although our make-out sessions have at least turned decidedly PG13. But I’m excited; I can’t wait to see what surprises she’ll have for me next time.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/9tqggb/31my_first_time_with_my_catholic_21friend_long