I took a solo backpacking trip through Portugal a few years ago. I woke up on my first morning at the hostel in Lisbon, grabbed some breakfast, and looked for a place at the long table in the center of the room. Sitting alone near the end was a curvy, blond-haired woman wearing a floral summer dress. She wasn’t a babe, but she certainly looked cute. Also she had pretty large breasts, which her low-cut top made quite obvious. I’m usually game for trying an opportunity, so I walked over and, with a friendly smile, I asked if I could sit across from her at the table. She said “Sure”, so I sat down. She had a cute smile, too.
I started up the conversation with something trivial, and we soon discovered that we had a couple of life facts in common. She wasn’t completely my type, and I wasn’t hers, but we had a certain fun chemistry together. I was a little tired that day, and I’m pretty sure that she caught me getting a look at her wonderful cleavage. I’m usually not that obvious (I think?), but at any rate, she didn’t react to it, and the conversation continued. I chalked it up to my tiredness or horniness plus not really caring too much. The conversation progressed. She mentioned that she was divorced, and had a child who was spending some vacation days with his father overseas. This was her travel time – time to herself to relax and enjoy.
We soon got onto the topic of religion and atheism, and I gave her my take and listened to hers. She told me that she identified as a non-believer, but she didn’t want to ‘commit’ to the atheist label. I, in turn, told her gently that if she didn’t actually believe, or if she rejected claims of a god’s existence, then she was, effectively, an atheist. As an atheist myself, I expressed my views pretty passionately, and she was clearly listening intensely and interestedly.
We split up after breakfast – but not before we exchanged numbers. I had no specific plans that day; she was traveling with two friends, a couple, and she told me that she might want to split up with them later on so that they could tour separately. She asked if I’d been to the huge Jesus statue that overlooks the port of Lisbon: Cristo Rei, on a mountain-top in Almada. I hadn’t – and I told her that if she was interested in visiting, I might be interested in joining her. On that promising note, we parted ways.
I had a few errands to run, so I walked around the city taking care of them. After a while, my busty new friend messaged me to ask if I knew whether the Jesus statue was open that day. Her internet connection was spotty, which made communicating with her pretty frustrating, but it seemed that she was going to leave her friends, and she wanted to go with me to see the statue. At this point, I had no specific expectations, but I was going to hang out with a sexy woman who had made it clear that she wanted to spend time with me, and at worst, I would experience one of the most famous tourist sites in Portugal with a friendly fellow traveler.
We met up, and took a bus to the ferry station. It took a while for the ferry to arrive, so we spent the time chatting and laughing. She appreciated my sense of humor – a turn on in its own right. There was definite flirtation going on between us, but pretty mild and gentle. Nothing pushy or very direct. Finally the ferry arrived, and we sat next to each other looking out over the water.
We arrived at Almada (the other side of the channel), and after grabbing some lunch, we caught the bus to Cristo Rei. Sitting together right at the back of the bus, she was sharing some stories about the difficulties of her life back home. I was sympathetic and supportive. After a little while, I decided to play a little dangerously, and asked if I could put my arm around her. She nodded, and as I curled my arm around her shoulders, she snuggled into me, enjoying my touch. It was going better than I had anticipated.
We both found it pretty hilarious that we, two atheists from two different countries, were traveling together to visit the enormous statue of Jesus on the Sabbath day. The heresy! This became a central theme of our conversation that day. As the bus moved along towards the famous statue site, she was telling me a story about people making out. I looked her in the eye for a moment and said, “Well, we’re going to have to make out up there at the statue, you know that?” She looked at me and just smiled.
We arrived at the site and joined the line, first to buy tickets and then for the elevator ride up towards the top. For some inexplicable reason, the elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top, and pilgrims are reduced to taking a narrow staircase to get to the rooftop at the base of the statue. Screw the frail and disabled, I guess. At some point along the way, I think we had moved on to holding hands.
Finally at the top, we took our pictures, examined the inscriptions around the base of the statue, enjoyed the views, and made disparaging comments about religion (but not loudly enough to offend our fellow tourists). And, yes, I pulled her in for a kiss. There we stood, two atheists making out under the arms of the enormous statue of Jesus. But it was to get even better.
After a while up on the rooftop, we decided to make our way back down. She wanted to look for some wine, but I wanted to go a little further with her… We walked along the scenic path overlooking the channel, and sat down on a bench. We made out some more, and I gradually moved my hands from her shoulders to her hips and her thighs. We would pause and disengage when people walked by, so after a while I offered to find a place where we could sit with a little more privacy. Her friends were texting her, and she kept telling me that she should really go and meet up with them – but that she wanted to stay, more.
I took her hand and led her to a grassy, shady spot underneath one of the olive trees in the green gardens. Jesus’s statue was up there overhead, but at least we were a little hidden from the view of passersby. Now we went for it.
I caressed her head as I kissed her, and she kissed me back. She was one of the better kissers I’ve encountered, actually. My hands slid towards her thighs, her hips, her breasts… I kissed her neck, using my tongue on her lips, her jawline, her neck. She was getting really hot and bothered. Well, okay, not bothered. She was loving it – and she was not afraid to tell me so (something that too many women seem to be afraid to do). She told me what she wanted, and I was happy to comply.
We were lying down next to each other on the grass. I touched her chest, gently massaging the tops of her beautiful, succulent breasts. She moaned in pleasure. I didn’t want to totally expose her (well, I did, but she wasn’t ready for that yet), so I slowly slid my hand inside her bra and stroked her. I caressed her nipples, squeezing them gently. She moaned, gripping me. “Oh yes, yes, that’s so good…” We sat up, and I pulled her body close to my face. I grabbed her body, and, without totally revealing her beautiful, round, delicious-looking breast to the open air, I leaned over, put out my tongue, and started licking her.
She groaned. “Fuck yes, I’ve been wanting you to do that ever since I saw you this morning,” she said. Aha! She HAD noticed me getting an eyeful of her cleavage at breakfast. And she’d liked it. I was liking this woman more and more. The angle and the restrictions of her clothing made it awkward, but I was just able to reach her nipple with my tongue. I swirled and slathered, sucked and nibbled. She was in ecstasy.
I’m not sure how I got the nerve, but I decided to explore her lower body too… Her summer dress made it easy to caress her legs, her thighs… and I got closer and closer to her pussy. Eventually I made gentle contact with her panties – and I was getting only positive reinforcement from her. I checked with her if it was okay for me to continue – and after getting the okay, I sent a finger-tip or two gently exploring the warm, welcoming skin that lay beneath her cotton panties.
I slid further down, teasing her — getting slowly closer to her clit. All the while I kept touching her breasts, her face, her body. Finally, I made contact. Her clit was responsive, and her lips were warm and wet. Oh, I wished I could just fling her down and plow her right there — but that time would come, another day… I settled for getting my fingers wet in her juices, sliding them up and down her lips, and giving special attention to her clit. I added moisture from time to time by withdrawing my fingers, sucking on them in my mouth, and returning them to her waiting pussy lips. Slow circles, gentle caresses, and rhythmic sliding motions. She was getting closer.
After a few minutes, I pushed a finger inside her. She gasped and moaned. Her eyes were closed, head thrust upwards, fingers clenched. I began to finger-fuck her, slowly at first, and then faster, harder. Finding a rhythm. Fucking into her with a persistent force, pushing in, pulling out. My hand cramped up at one point, and I took a short break – but I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to push her over the edge.
More, more. Harder, faster. Her breath came in gasps, and she grabbed my arms. Finally, she just – stopped. Her tension melted, her back no longer arched. I was a little too focused on my finger-work to notice at first, and she reached down and grabbed my hand to tell me to stop. I pulled it out, and held her (with the other hand!)
“Wow. That was amazing. I really never do this!” she told me. “It’s really fine – I don’t mind if you do or don’t,” I replied. “Even if you do – so what? What’s wrong with having a good time together with another person?” We lay back and rested in her glow for a few minutes. After a while, she sat up and grabbed my cock through my jeans. “Oh, I wish I could take this out now. I want to have you in my mouth.” “I do too, baby.” But we both understood that while doing what we had done together in public was edgy for her (besides being really fun), sucking my cock in broad daylight under a Jesus olive tree was a step that she’d feel very uncomfortable taking. But we would get to escalating things at a later stage – in public too, although at night. But that’s another story.
We gathered our belongings, took a few deep breaths, shared a few kisses, and made our way back to the bus, on our way back to the hostel. It had been a wonderful afternoon spent with a fellow stranger. To think that only that morning I had first met her, eyeing her boobs at the hostel breakfast table – and I had made her cum in a public park in the middle of the afternoon, with my fingers deep inside her. I considered it a day well spent!
So that’s the story of how two atheists enjoyed some kissing and some well-placed fingers, in the shadow of the giant Jesus statue of Alambra, Portugal.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/com13w/my_fingers_in_the_shadow_of_a_giant_jesus_statue