I was eighteen at the time. My boyfriend, Alex, was barely twenty. He was still living at home; every Sunday I would drive a half hour to have some quality time with him — it was pretty high quality.
I’d arrive relatively early in the morning, as he was readying himself for the day. Nothing special about his ensemble some ratty jeans and T-shirt. He’d head over to the bathroom to gel his hair and trim his blond/red beard. God, that hair! I have a thing for men that have red facial hair.
After we would start up a movie casually sitting on the bed, and wait until the rest of his family sauntered out of the house unsuspectingly for church. Yes, church. While the rest of the family was out reading the bible we were in his childhood bedroom humping like bunnies, and it was a good time.
I’d lay my head back against his chest and he would start to play with my hair. I’d get goosebumps on my arms, I could feel his breath on my skin and my anticipation rising. Tugging my pants down to reveal my small, but tight butt. I’d always pick my best underwear for Sundays. Usually something black.
He’d pull his pants off in a hurry and we would lay on the bed intertwined and dry hump till we were both soaked. It was ridiculous. Once we couldn’t stand that anymore he would slip his fingers up into my vagina. He would start curling them slowly, like the wave pool when you go swimming. As I would breathe heavier and start to thrust my hips along, boobs bouncing, the little waves would turn to tsunamis. His favorite part of fingering me was making me squirt.
Sure enough, all over the sheets. Drenched. Still, no one ever questioned why he washed the bedding every Sunday.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8h4m1v/fm_young_sunday_sex