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Christy came into my life like a photo bomber. She had a way of showing up in the picture and I had no idea how she came to be there.
She was friendly with, Janice, a woman who lived in my apartment complex. We were on ‘waving and smiling’ terms. Over time Christy, who was often around, signed onto the ‘waving and smiling’ practice. So I now had two waving and smiling acquaintances. That’s how it progressed for a while, with the occasional smiling, then waving thrown in.
They were both attractive women. Christy, more so. Imagine a slimmer version of Kirsty Alley combined with Amy Adams; shiny black hair, soft grey eyes, pert nose, a glowing complexion and an electric smile. She wasn’t slim, but she carried herself well and seemed comfortable in her skin.
From what little I knew about them, I gleaned that Janice was a wine distributor and Christy was a buyer for a wine store nearby. One night the store was hosting an event featuring ‘wines of the world.” I’m an avid cook, but when it comes to wine, I drink what’s in front of me, so I thought I’d go along and learn something.
Christy greeted me with her usual bubbly brio and insisted on giving me a tour of the store along with copious samples of the wines on promotion.
So, now we had graduated from smiling and waving to chatting. I purchased a few bottles and went on my way. As I said, Christy had a way of popping up at unexpected times in unexpected places. Only now, the frequency increased. Turns out, Janice was traveling for a while and Christy was conveniently housesitting for her.
Occasional waves and smiles became daily occurrences. One weekend, I was preparing a dinner party for friends and a neighbor and I passed Christy in our parking lot.
We chatted briefly and on the spur of the moment, I invited her to join us for dinner.
“I’m not trying to get into your pants or anything” I said, “It’s just dinner.”
She laughed. I think she found my directness amusing. I invited a neighbor who lived next door and she brought a friend. The dinner was great, as was the company and conversation.” Upon reflection, I was pleased to have an uncomplicated platonic relationship with a woman and felt safe around her.
I learned that Christy was born again and I assumed that abstinence and piety came with the package. She would often talk about her relationship with HIM.
I found her religious outlook quirky and comforting. She was always quoting scriptures and would pray for me, and whatever feelings she may have had for me,I assumed, were sublimated. Then again, I was never that good at reading sexual cues.
Over time, she dropped some subtle hints about her past, slyly packaged with the sheen of biblical sanctimony. “They say having impure thoughts is as bad as acting on them” she said one day as we stood in her kitchen. “As a matter of fact,” she added “There’s no daylight between thinking and doing. If you thought it, you may as well have done the deed.”
“Indeed” I responded and dropped the topic. That’s how clueless I am.
On another occasion, she recalled a bible study discussion about inappropriate immoral conduct and concluded that after ‘some of the things I’ve done in my life,I’m hardly in a position to judge.’
Did I accept the invitation to ask? No madam, I did not.
Sensing that her arrows of innuendo were not hitting the mark, she opted for a blunter instrument.
One day at her house, out of the blue she confessed. ” I have this thing about watching porn on the internet. I can’t help it. I like it. I know I shouldn’t but it’s sinful.I have to stop.”
That club should have found its mark, but sadly it didn’t. I suppose I am really circumspect about flings. Even though we’d achieved a comfortable rapport I was uneasy. I wasn’t (nor am I) that confident about my sexual prowess, besides I take sex seriously and need to have a real connection with my partner.
Over time, we became good friends and developed a comfortable rapport. I noticed that Christy had quite a dominant personality. As a result, she frequently struck out in her romantic efforts.
The trait never bothered me, but I felt sad for her and didn’t feel inclined to point out that it could in fact, contribute to her disconnections.
Unfortunately, I lost my job and had to leave town. Christy snapped into action and made a real effort to help me connect with prospective employers. and I was touched by her efforts.
I was all set to make my final move out of town and as a gesture of appreciation I called to invite her over for a farewell dinner. I offered to prepare my signature dish, “Poulet Provencal” A simple peasant meal that calls for fresh ingredients. I mentioned that late summer heirloom tomatoes and vegetables were abundant at the market .”
“Sounds good” she said, “I’ll bring the wine”
“Great!”
“And another thing’ she said…
The line went quiet for a few moments.
“…I’d like to give you a going away present.”
“Oh really” I replied. I was curious, but unprepared for what came next.
“I want to give you a massage.”
Silence.
“Okay…” I responded.
A massage! Really?
Finally! I got the hint. This one landed like a bullet to the back of the head. And I knew the inevitable was imminent. Still, I had my doubts. One-night stands are always iffy. Things can get awkward. With the potential excitement of a new partner there’s always the question of sexual compatibility. When it comes to sex, I wonder if the Golden rule should read,
“Don’t do unto others as you would have them do to you, your tastes might differ.”
I wondered if Christy’s dominant tendencies might extend to her sexual repertoire. Besides, despite my chaste manners, I harbored some well concealed kinks.
She arrived looking stunning. Simple black slacks, white blouse; elegant and understated. The dinner went well. The scent of herbs and roast chicken suffused the room as I set the casserole down. We spoke at length and settled into a quiet comfort. The wine was perfect, the air thick with sexual tension.
This was the inflection point. After all the oblique suggestions, Christy had finally made her point clear. The question was, who would make the first move.
I excused myself saying I needed a bathroom break. I stripped off and walked back into the room stark naked.
“I’m ready for my massage.” I declared. (I’ve always had CFNM fantasies).
Christy was at a loss for words. She surveyed me with a mixture of shock and amusement. I walked towards her and turned her chair towards me. I straddled her hips, cupping her face with my hands and kissed her. I ran my hands through her silken hair, kissing her neck, her face, her lips. She responded in kind.
I slipped my hand into her blouse and fondled her breasts. She moaned and kissed me harder. I lifted her blouse and caressed her skin. Snaking my hand around her back, I slipped my hand into her slacks and discovered she was wearing no panties.
“Nice” I commented as I tickled the dimple at the top of her ass. “I see now that you had this planned out in your head.”
“No, I didn’t.” She protested weakly.
I opened the button on her blouse and freeing her nipples from her bra, I gently licked her nipples. Her chest swelled and her breathing became ragged.
“Harder” she said.
I bit her nipples softly
Harder” she said.
I liked it when Christy gave me orders.
I squeezed, slapped and pulled and bit her tits as she commanded. This was new. But I liked it.
At that point all the sexual asides, the confessions the comments she’d made in the past coalesced in an erotic event, the likes of which I had never known. Try as I might, nothing I write will even do justice to it.
I carried her to the bedroom and set her down gently on the bed. I hovered over her and looked into her eyes. I was overwhelmed by the way she looked at me. So vulnerable, so open. Never had she expressed so much without saying a word.
The strong opinionated, dominant Christy suddenly became submissive, inviting me to dominate her, to take her. This time I read the cues right. It’s as if our communication was telepathic. We moved as one without a hint of awkwardness or shame. I was on my knees before as she lay supine on the bed. I removed her shoes and taking each foot in my hand I kissed them and sucked each toe one by one.
I removed her slacks, lifted her legs and placed them on my shoulders. I gently traced my tongue along the inside of her leg, making my way up her smooth, silken skin.
I noticed that she’d sculpted her pubes into the most exquisite landing strip I have ever seen. Just the right length and breadth,an arrow like invitation. It was clear that she had painstakingly prepared for an event that would go so much further than a massage.
I was touched that she had taken so much care knowing what the evening would bring. Or perhaps she didn’t know yet.
That’s when I discovered something else. Christy was a screamer. A real screamer. Like Michael Bolton channeled through Nigel Tufnell’s amp, Christy went straight to eleven and stayed there.
As much as I tried to linger on her legs and inner thighs, I could no longer postpone my enthusiasm to devour her exquisite pussy. Her clit called to me like an inviting blossom. Her scent was intoxicating. She wrapped her legs around my head,pulling me in, which did nothing to dampen her screams, which had now reached fever pitch. Her scent filled the room and my face was soaked with her nectar. I wanted more. I filled her with my fingers and captured more juice. She watched as I wiped my face with her cum.
But I wanted more and gently prizing her legs open, I noticed her puckered anus.
I took a tentative lick and she screamed.
“May I?” I asked.
“Yesss” she screamed.
I continued to lick and explore her ass with my tongue for longer than I think she could stand it.
Finally, we fucked. We moved like blind dancers, reading each other’s bodies like braille. Every position came naturally. Nothing was off bounds and we went everywhere. As one.
Imagine the excitement of a first night, married with the comfortable intimacy that comes with familiarity and experience. That’s how it felt.
And as we fell down on the pillow, satiated, spent, she kissed me and looked at me. She shook her head slowly and said,
“It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/g76oza/she_said_she_was_a_holy_roller_but_thats_not_how