*(This is part of a story I’m writing, about boy and girl meeting by chance in a long summer week and what follows. English is not my main language, so forgive me for any errors)*
Had I just had sex in a church?
I had. I had *fucked* in a church.
Not that it had been planned in any way, because of course it hadn’t. No one, or at least no one I ever met, wakes up in the morning, runs a to-do app and, between bloated eyes and a cup of coffee, decides will a) do laundry, b) buy groceries, c) find a cathedral to have sex there.
She had been wanting to visit churches. “Honey, you have no idea how beautiful you have your churches here in Europe! Back home we have nothing, and I mean nothing, like them! All we have are modern, slick, boring things. And how could we not, if there wasn’t anything like your Middle Ages when all of them were built. When Charlotte took me to Notre Dame, I had only heard of it because of the movie, but have no shame in telling you I almost cried there, so beautiful it was! And that church was already old when we were still building cities by the old border and playing cowboys and indians. And, Jesus, that Sagrada Familia, don’t get me started on that one!”
So we went, through the city, the battered old streets where her beloved monuments laid, the scorching sun leading our way. This particular church was not in her handwritten “Ten Churches To See” list that she had priorly googled. There was not anything remarkable, no huge coloured stained glasses, no densely ornamented statues, only an old and cold building, moisty scents of rusty stones amongst the heavy dark woods used in the doors and benches. It was as so many other churches I had been to, and ignored, but she loved it.
“We have nothing like this back home!”. Her religious ecstasy meant several selfies taken and videos filmed, narrating where she was and what she was about. The main aisle was empty, with only the priest briefly coming to the altar for a couple of seconds and returning inside. Which was perhaps what snapped the idea in her. She held my hand and rushed us upstairs, to a small hidden balcony, from which the building could be seen and none could see us. She put her arms around my neck and sweetly whispered, “Ever done it in a church?”
“What?” was my frightened answer, this “What?” meaning I was so understanding what she was about to do, and my mind was racing into damage control for the ensuing panic attack that was about to follow.
“Of course you haven’t, how could you?”, as she put her lips against mine and her tongue between my teeth, her warm moisture mixing with mine, her hand sliding into my shorts, holding me with more fierceness than she ever had, probably to stop me from running away, because my mind was coming to terms that this was a church, a public place to which a couple of tourists were now entering, and at any moment we could be caught and kicked out in the most public humiliation ever. “Fuck, what are you doing, this is a church!”, I silently screamed. But if my rational thoughts could be about that, everything else was about what I knew was to follow. She had forced my hand beneath her red summer dress, making me grab her butt, memories flooding of her fiercely amazing, so round and perfect behind. If any sparkle of resistance was sensed, she proceeded to burn it down.
“Shh-Shh-Shh! That’s OK!”, as she rolled her tongue into my ear. “You can say what you want, but I feel it the other way”. She should be feeling it, yes, I was steel hard. It was, eh, hard not to. She turned her back to me and raised her skirt.
“Come now, we don’t have that much time!” This could be a complete madness, and I couldn’t care less. My shorts were about to burst from all the passion contained within, and I put them down to release it. I stroked it between her behind’s cheeks, getting wetter with each movement. getting so high I was about to burst and finish right then. But she put her hand between her legs and grabbed it, sliding me inside her. She was not yet totally ready, as it met with more resistance than our other sessions. It felt so much more tighter, her hidden moans with as much pleasure as with a bit of pain.
I slid my hands to her breasts, placing them beneath her bra, feeling the smooth and fierce flesh, the nipples getting larger and more sensible with the touch, myself getting impossibly larger and harder. I felt it filling every possible inside her, stuck between impossible valleys of pleasure, hot sliding flesh surrounding me in every sense. Her head was now thrown backwards, resting on my shoulder, her lips slightly open and heavily moist, those eyes that had me so lost now closed, soft whispers uttered as I thrusted my strength into her. Every motion raised my levels to impossible heights, with the added feeling of eagerness of the forbidden fruit, angels silent witnesses to our rebellion against authorities and rules and boundaries. It raised within me, not even the start of an idea, but the motion of inserting my finger into her behind. I had never done it, because fuck!, a couple of days ago my only sexual experiences were with paper tissues, but this now felt right to do. I circled the entrance very softly with my finger, sensing a permission to do it, and with a silent permission given, I entered her from the other way. It gave so much more resistance, like it was trying to throw me out, denying me entrance, to which I answered by sensibly forcing myself more bit by bit. It seemed more of a game, every bit conquered provoking further auhorization mission for more entrance. It was new, and exciting, and raw, and dirty, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Well now, like this it seems to take way more time than it really did. To my credit, I managed to keep it fairly quiet, as the tourists were now praying kneeled in the benches. To my discredit, a longer, harder, moan, meant it was over way too quickly. As I struggled to spurt everything to her insides, I slid both me and my finger outside her and part of my seed dropped to the floor. I feared she would find it so disappointing, with such a quick finish, or worse, angered by that I had done being ever talked amongst us. But she turned to me smiling, her huge blue eyes sparkling with amusement, as she put her panties up.
“Trying something new now, are we, honey?” She gave another long, wet, kiss, droplet running through the curve of her neck. “That was really great! And aren’t you happy you finish so fast? I would never think of doing this with some other men I met, no way would I stay here for hours with no end in sight! But with you, it’s so easy!”. I couldn’t understand if it was a compliment, but her smile turned into a burst out of laughter as she saw our remains on the floor, soothing any uneasiness I could feel.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/ohsnx2/church_mf_con_fist