Young Female Minister Finds a mate in an unorthodox (sinful) moment.
Based on a post by SandyMarl. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

"I was young. Though at the time I thought I was pretty old for a virgin. I'd finished at the university and then I had completed my training to become a certified church youth director. Seminary would come a few years later.
"I was thrilled to accept an offer for a youth director position at a large church. I was desperate to hit all the marks; I was eager to get to know the kids and I was adamant that I would be a fine, upright and un-besmirched example of Christian virtue for the youth.
"My church sent me to a youth conference out-of-state. Among other duties, I was an uptight, hard-ass, chastity chaperone overseeing a bubbling pool of hormones. Damn, I was vigilant; squelching boners and drying up young wet pussies. If, by the end of the conference; no lives were lost and no lives were created, I'd attained my measure of success.
"On my return, I had a layover in Dallas. I was upset when my flight was delayed, then ultimately rescheduled for the next day because of a couple of back-to-back severe cold fronts that were clipping across the country. Disaster hit home when it was announced that all flights were canceled because of the icy winter weather. I was furious at God. What was He doing to me? This is Texas, land of parched mesquite trees and dusty tumbleweeds. It's not supposed to snow in Texas, much less for multiple days.
I'd already spent one hellacious, uncomfortable night crowded into DFW Airport with a seething cast of thousands of stranded passengers. It was the 'Valentine's Day snow-pocalypse.' With each continuing hour of freezing rainfall, I was facing the prospect of being stranded for a second night. My fate of being stuck on an uncomfortable airport bench without my luggage seemed unbearable.
While looking in vain for a place to buy a toothbrush, I ran into a professional acquaintance who was also stranded. She introduced me to a guy, Antonio, with whom she had some connection. He was a few years older than me, I was told he was in advertising, writing jingles for TV ads and stuff.
My acquaintance excused herself, as she had a lead on finding some ground transportation that she hoped could get her out of this frozen-over hell at DFW airport. I wished her luck, leaving the two of us newly introduced strangers standing uncomfortably in a crowd of strangers.
"Been here all day and all night?" he asked to make small talk. He must have known my obvious answer.
"Yah. I spent a miserable month in Dallas one night," was my snide quip. "Actually two days, and it's looking like I'll be stuck here for a second night, too."
"I fear we'll both be stuck in our night tutus. I'm just afraid I'll look silly in my tutu, but I believe you'll look fine in your night tutu."
Antonio's pun and cheap humor fell flat. I was in no mood for word play. I just wanted out. He was disappointed that I was unresponsive to his levity. I'll give him credit, he didn't quit; "Only thing is that my tutu was packed in my check-on baggage and it's earning travel bonus miles for a Florida vacation while I'm stuck here in Dallas on Valentine's. Like a fool, I didn't bring a carry-on with me."
He looked at me sympathetically, "Do you have a carry-on bag with you?"
"No," I snapped. "Everything has gone to hell, including my baggage and my career." I felt like telling him that he could go to hell too. But I didn't. "No, I don't have any change of clothes with me."
He told me, "Stay right here, I'm going to check on something," as an enviable spark lit his eyes.
"Stay right here?" I parroted. "Where would I go? Even if I didn't want to stay right here?" I whipped my hair off my shoulders with a violent and defiant jerk of my neck to emphasize my frustration with his directions to me as well as everything in general.
He gave me a look, like, 'OK, I'm not going to touch that.' He checked his phone battery, grimaced and stepped across the concourse and punched something into his cell phone.
He came back to where I was standing, looking at me like he was cornered by a wounded mama bear. "I'm down to nine percent charge. But I have a plan." He struck up a chanting cadence of sorts, singing, "I don't know, but I've been told; I've gotta plan oh so bold, wanna blow this joint, it's getting' old?" Then he added, "'Misery loves company' - so I'm told. Join me in my escape plan?"
He got the stink eye from me. Then I had to ask, "Depends. What's this bold plan of yours?"
"I just sent a text to a gal I've worked with in the music industry. She has a small place somewhere near this airport; I think. I know she's out in LA now doing a gig. If she responds before my phone dies, I've asked her if I could use her place until hell quits freezing over."
In a few minutes, his phone pinged. He scrolled through the text as I looked at his hunched form. "You've still got a charge. I hope that's her. Is it?" I asked as a bit of hope crept into my tone.
"Good luck for a change. One, I've got permission; two, an address and three, a front door code. With an air of nonchalance, he asked me, "If I can find a rideshare, would you care to join me in a small, warm place, far from the madding crowd?"
I was uncomfortable and desperate and perhaps against all of mother's advice, I decided to cast my lot with this older, experienced guy of my acquaintance for all of forty minutes.
Out of the Fridge and into Hell's Freezer.
Our Uber driver asked, "Any bags?"
We answered with a glum and simultaneous, "No."
She told us we were lucky that she took us, "Nobody wants to be out in this slick shit. I grew up in Minnesota, but these Texas ice-storm roads are crazy different than snow. Y'all are my last ride, this is too dangerous."
She dropped us off at the address Antonio had given her. "Hope y'all get to have a warm Valentine's Day," she said as she fish-tailed away on the icy boulevard in front of our apartment complex of refuge.
Crossing the iced-over parking lot was treacherous with the sleet and snow coming down almost horizontally through the bitter wind. Our progress was made more difficult by the fact that neither of us had appropriate shoes. I was wearing Crocs, Antonio had sandals; minimal footgear chosen to quickly pass through TSA screening and shoe removal.
"Something's not right," moaned Antonio as we approached the building. "This doesn't match the description I was given."
"If it's not right and if we're stuck outside in this weather, we'll die. My toes are already frozen purple," I complained, not exaggerating.
Antonio checked his phone and I saw a look of panic cross his face. "My phone's dead," he mumbled through quivering lips.
"Is your phone still working?" he asked me.
I dug it out of my bag. "Yep. But not for long."
"I think I can remember my friend's number; dial her number for me." With cold, stiff fingers I pressed the key sequence he thought he remembered.
He pulled his frigid hand out from his pocket, asking for my phone as it rang through. "Leila? Is that you? This is Antonio. Something's wrong, we're standing somewhere that doesn't look like the place you described. We're freezing our asses off."
Antonio held my phone to his ear as I listened to his side of the conversation, "OK. OK... No. Our Uber dropped us off... Yes! I used the address you gave me... No, well possibly... I told her 11263. Shit! Frozen shit in hell! Leila? Wait, let me repeat, 11623. One-one-six-two-three? You sure... Sorry, Leila, probably my mistake. This phone is about to die and we're also about to die of hypothermia. I owe you. Thanks. Bye."
I uncrossed my arms folded across my chest, covered only in a light-weight blouse, to take back my phone.
Antonio looked sheepish and very cold. "Well, if hell ever freezes over, this is what it's going to be like. I'm sorry Michelle, some numbers got transposed. We're four blocks away from where we need to be. I'm sorry, our only choice is to start walking and start walking fast."
Cursed by Snow, Blessed by Thunder.
I heard a crack and a rumble coming from above. It scared me. "What was that noise?" I asked in added terror.
"I believe that's thunder snow," my hard-luck escort answered. "I've never experienced it, but I've heard of it. Supposed to be a rare meteorological phenomenon."
There was another loud rumble. "Is thunder snow dangerous?" I asked, panicking under the severe weather conditions.
"No," he told me. "It's a sign, it's a special sign of hope for you and me Michelle. You might call it a blessing."
I wanted to believe him. I did believe him.
He pushed me on the back. "Let's get moving."
A layer of ice had crusted over the six inches of snow that had fallen earlier. Barbs of freezing rain were biting into my cheeks as we scuffled along the abandoned boulevard, hunching against the driving wind. My toes were numb, everything was painful, including the real fear of not being able to make it the four blocks to shelter.
The low, cruel clouds continued to deliver stinging pellets of ice. The dismal sky above rumbled and cracked with thunder snow as we struggled ahead. "I think thunder snow sounds like the voice of God," I suggested, perhaps delusional in my suffering.
"What's God saying?" was Antonio's question.
"I don't know. I want to believe His voice is in this thunder snow, I feel He's telling us that He'll keep us safe. That He will save us."
Antonio did not respond to my interpretation. He was too miserable to converse.
I followed in Antonio's tracks, just moving, not thinking. The sharp chill stabbing through my wet clothes had frozen everything out of my brain except the will to survive.
"This is it." He sounded subdued.
He took a hand out of his pocket and reached for mine. I gave it to him as we climbed the icy steps to the third floor. A huge, echoing boom of thunder snow rang out as soon as we touched hands. Antonio squeezed my hand, "I believe God just spoke. I think your prayers are answered, Michelle. You will be safe now. We'll be OK. God just said so."
I nodded weakly. "I believe thunder snow is a special sign for us," I suggested.
Antonio squeezed my hand again.
Antonio entered a digital code and pushed the door open. I don't remember being elated, I only remember feeling exhausted as the door swung closed behind us and the window pane rattled with another burst of thunder snow. It was a sign, a good and special sign from heaven I decided. I understood in my soul that the roar of thunder snow was the sound of heavenly passion.
Resurrection of the Frozen Dead.
Antonio went to the thermostat and cranked it up. I was stunned by the cold and too numb to think or do anything other than to sit on the end of the bed and shiver in my wet clothes. Antonio glanced at me, "Michelle, you get the first hot shower."
Like a stiff zombie rising out of a frozen grave, I stepped into the tiny bath, dropped my sodden blouse, pants and socks on the floor, draping my equally wet bra and undies on the door knob. Hot water poured over my skin, I was resurrected from the cold and the dead. I was once again a woman of warm flesh and blood. I did not yet realize the magnitude of my transformation into a young woman of warm flesh and hot blood. The significance of facing the trauma of a frozen death, only to reach safety and feel warm and alive, maybe shifted my perspectives on morality.
Maybe.
I had a towel wrapped around my torso as I peered through the bathroom door. The place was cramped. Antonio's wet clothes had been dumped in a pile on the kitchenette's floor. I could see his form across the room under the blankets of the narrow bed in the corner. He was motionless. I wondered if I should wake him and tell him the shower was available. We were both wrung out from our ordeal and the previous sleepless night in DFW Airport. I thought it best to let him sleep.
I don't know what I was thinking - I probably wasn't thinking. I had no energy left to think, but I do remember my feelings as I looked at the sleeping man in the corner. I stepped to the edge of the bed, feeling grateful to be alive and in a warm, dry place. I was feeling that Antonio had protected me and delivered me from freezing to death, realistic or not. I was feeling tired, yet with a warm, quiet satisfaction that together we survived our Valentine's Day snow-pocalypse.
I was feeling some warm affection toward the man who had led me by the hand to this quiet place of refuge.
I lifted the blankets enough to see he had shed all of his wet clothes. There was a naked man before me. A naked, sleeping, wonderful man. This man deserved to rest after bringing me to safety. This wonderful man deserved to have my warmth shared with him after all we'd been through.
This should have been a paradox for me; one bed, two people, a virtuous, virgin church girl and an undressed music man. I didn't think about it. I just felt it was right to drop my damp towel next to the bed and slip under the sheets with this wonderful man.
Trying not to disturb him, I eased in close, but not intending to touch his skin. I pulled the blankets over us as a distant peal of thunder snow slipped into the late afternoon light of the room. That last echo of thunder snow was a sign, I felt it was a blessing for us from above. I was asleep in an instant.
Mystery of a Curious Erotic Fascination.
I never imagined it would be this way. I was prepared to wait for the marriage bed. At least that was my strong belief the day before yesterday. Now, I had crawled naked under the covers with a sleeping, naked man that I just met and it seemed like the most natural and right thing to do after what we'd been through together. I admit, it was a strange transformation, one of those paradoxes that I've come to understand that comes with this messy life of mixed spirit and soul. I sensed we were Adam and Eve, innocent and naked and unashamed in the Garden of Eden.
I guess we'd tossed around in our sleep. I awoke. Antonio was asleep on his back, his left arm was on top of my bare chest with his palm resting flat on my left breast. I considered gently lifting it off of me, but I cherished the feel of the weight of his arm across my chest. I enjoyed the feel of a broad, male hand covering my nipple. My nipples had ached in the cold earlier, now they were warm and welcoming to the pressure of Antonio's palm and I'm sure they began to plump up pert and pretty under the circumstances.
Holding still in the darkness, I was thinking about the man next to me. Our feet had intertwined in the night on the narrow mattress we shared. I liked having our feet tangled as much as I liked his arm pressing on my boobs. I was thinking about his cock which I'd glimpsed as I slipped under the covers next to him.
It wasn't so much temptation, but more of a compelling fascination. I wanted to get to know this cock. I'd seen it laying across his thigh, it was so gloriously male. It was intricate and elegant, connecting to his scrotum. A great mystery had been revealed to me, but I think like most ladies, we can never understand the power of the cock for a man. Lying in the still darkness, naked and next to his exposed masculine mystery, something was percolating inside of me. I couldn't deny I'd developed an erotic fascination for Antonio's external manhood glory.
Perhaps I'd long been afraid to draw too close and acknowledge the power of masculinity. Things had changed for me, the deep mystery at the center of a man had been placed by happenstance next to me. I let slip all my notions of Christian propriety, strictures and teachings of absolute moral stances, I wanted the mystery to be unfolded before me. Like Eve, I wanted the forbidden fruit of knowledge of good and evil. I can now understand Eve's temptation in the Garden of Eden.
Good Christian Girls Don't, But.
For me, it was curiosity over lust. I had heard about the amazing masculine sex organ - gift and curse; it could and would grow from small and soft; to long and hard; at the mere sight of an attractive woman. The penis could and would dispossess a virtuous man of his disciplined mind and turn him into a fool. How does this dangling thing between a man's legs exert so much control? And what would happen if a female just touched this thing of mysterious masculine power? Maybe touched it just a little?
My hand was moving as if on its own as I was thinking these thoughts. Those rigid boundaries of conduct I once had were now faded, washed away by a hot shower and a surge of possibilities rising between mingled bodies of a woman and a man. With fingers arched ever so slightly, they explored under the sheets, landing on Antonio's hip. I paused, thinking I didn't want to wake him, but I just wanted to touch him. Fingers of my right hand ran through the coarse hairs of his lower belly. I was mere inches from contact with his dormant cock. My exploration was so naughty and exhilarating. I couldn't stop my traveling digits even though my brain was shouting a warning, 'good girls do not do these nasty things.' I was a virgin, but I was a curious girl, and maybe I wasn't such a good girl. I was so thrilled to be on the verge of doing a bad girl nasty thing. I combed through his tuft of pubic hair, spread my fingers wide and brushed my palm over his quiescent shaft.
Now I've done it, I thought. I shouldn't have let myself go this far. What have I done? What's going to happen now?
Nothing happened.
I was relieved.
Since nothing happened, I couldn't resist touching the smooth skin of his long trunk. What does the tip of his phallus feel like? Is it too sensitive for me to touch? My surreptitious exploration felt like I was Eve, reaching up to pet the serpent who was offering me the fruit of forbidden knowledge. I was smitten by his serpent.
The serpent moved.
I froze. Panic seized me. Antonio's sleeping flesh twitched beneath my open hand. It was alive. Did I wake Antonio, or is this a spontaneous unconscious reaction? I didn't know.
I had gotten into deep mischief, this was going to be embarrassing to explain. I had dipped my hand into the cookie jar and I got caught.
Charmed and Smitten by The Serpent.
The still arm resting on my chest shifted. An open hand brushed over the curved top of my breast, making slow circles over my exposed mammary. His thumb and forefinger traced around the base of my erect nipple before a gentle squeeze tugged at that ripe jewel, sending fluttering waves into my female parts below.
His right hand rose from his side and came to rest atop of my right hand, pressing me back onto his loins. I relaxed and waited, letting my nipple stiffen between his fingers, soaking in the sweetness of forbidden fruit.
Without a word, he rubbed my hand, encouraging me to keep my exploratory maneuvers going, he didn't seem to mind. With the unspoken assent given, my shyness receded, hot steam swirled in my veins and my brain got fizzy, I gave myself over to this passion.
The resting stalk beneath my curious hand crawled over his loins, rising, inflating and pushing into the heart line of my palm. Antonio's organ rapidly increased in size. With tentative strokes I played with its changing shape. I was amazed at the way it came to greet me, expanding into my grip. I was mesmerized by its manly magic; moments before it was soft and pliable, but now it was thick, stiff and getting longer and stronger. I think every girl secretly desires to have the power to inspire a guy's erection. I was more than desirous, I was intoxicated by what was unfolding in my own hand. This power to inspire a flaccid penis to change almost instantly into a potent hard-on didn't go to my head - it went straight to my virgin nether region.
"Can I touch you? - I don't want to hurt you. Is this OK?" I meekly asked through the darkness. As a virgin I had no idea what I could or should do with this massive erection that I had just inspired. I literally didn't know how to handle it.
"This is good," Antonio whispered, "You are doing a good thing for me. I like this very much."
I liked it too.
I also loved the attention my nipples were receiving, soft brushes across feeling-filled tips of my breast. He continued with gentle squeezes, fluffing my curves. My insides were getting warm and melty, I believed I might ooze into a puddle of jelly right next to him and make a big mess under the covers.
His arm left my breasts and in response, I stopped fingering his trunk. He said, "I'm just shifting to try something else that I believe will please you. But, please keep doing what you're doing, I love it."
I was giddy, waiting to find out what he was going to do to me. The back of his hand tenderly ran across my cheek, then he cradled my head in his arm and rolled me toward him and rubbed his nose on mine. I loved it. He kissed my nose before he planted his lips on mine. I loved it.
His lips didn't stop there, he nuzzled and kissed my chin, my throat and my cleavage. I loved it. Antonio's arm burrowed under me, his hand on my shoulder blade, turned me on my side so my titties were right where he wanted them. He nuzzled into each of the girls, getting them all excited before he pressed me into his open mouth. He latched on and gave me a vigorous tongue bath before he inhaled my sensitive nip and sucked on me hard.
I don't know if I shrieked when it happened. My day had started with thunder snow, and now I'd just been struck by blue lightning. Electricity buzzed from my nipple like an arcing electrode, sparking at my feminine core and racing down to curl my toes. No doubt it was a quick and surprising orgasm. My nipples were on fire. I loved it.
Antonio had me entangled in his arms. His lips and tongue were back at my breasts, one hand roamed through my hair, the other over my ribs, down to the small of my back and over to my bottom. I remember the overwhelming sensations of nipple play with his wet mouth and his warm, soft hands petting my tush. Mind, body and soul had been immersed in Champaign.
He pulled me tight to his chest, his lips devouring mine. Our lips parted and he held my face between his hands as we took deep breaths, panting in unison as I was aware of a rigid knob poking at my inner thigh. My curious and naughty hands, which started all of this, had become inactive; all of my body had melted into putty. While we paused in our passion, those fiddling fingers began to move from my side, reaching for that stiff thing that was goading my bare leg.
Unfolding Mystery, Unfolding Wings.
With caution, I pushed my fingers against his firmness, surprising myself when I asked in a shy voice, "Can I kiss it?"
Antonio said not a thing, he just tipped my head down under the wadded sheets.
Lacking confidence in my cock-handling skills, I held his phallus with just my fingertips and waved and wiggled it meekly, hoping I wouldn't break it off. Toying with his joystick, I found that an excited cock became stiff all the way to the tip, but it's flexible at the base. I bent his organ toward my face, holding it gingerly.
In anticipation of this wondrous erection approaching my lips, I extended my tongue until my tongue tip touched Antonio's tip. I tasted him. It reminded me of the first time I tried eating raw oysters; a bit briny, a bit slimy and certainly a bit strange at first. Like raw oysters and raw cock, it's a developed taste. A taste I have come to appreciate. But this being my first sexual foray, I held back; I licked and tasted the marvelous mushroom growing in the dark, kissed it with tiny pecks, but didn't overcommit to a voracious fellatio. For a virgin, it was enough.
I'd coiled my body around to get a comfortable angle for my cock kissing experience. I was not unaware that in positioning myself just so, my delicacies were pointed toward the owner of this cock which I was coming to know. When I started my wandering, curious exploration of the available boy parts, I had no intention of jumping his bones, at least consciously, but now I was kind of willing to let things play out and I might let things go further - if that's what happened.
As I was taking tiny sips and wee little licks at Antonio's cock, he was tickling my belly flesh and recumbent roundness with his fingertips. His paws pursued an approach that brought him closer to my patch of pubic fuzz before he'd retreat to my nipples, only to make teasing lunges toward my lower loins once again. I didn't know what he was going to do and I didn't know what I wanted. The sexual tension was pleasantly excruciating. I loved it.
His tantalizing touches finally meandered to my delicate region. I layed on my side in titillated anticipation, waiting to find out what his hands would ask me to do next. His hand landed between my closed legs. He asked me to unfold my virgin wings by placing an easy pressure on the upper thigh; I more than complied, I welcomed his intimacy.
Tight Virgin Opens Up.
I was open. I was open to whatever he wanted to do with me. He traced down the crease where my legs met my pelvis. He pushed and I spread wider for him. His fingers ran up my inner thigh, into my curly hairs and down to the inner thigh of the other leg. Spreading his single hand wide, he drew it slowly up from my knees toward my secret place, brushing the skin of both legs at once.
His cupped hand rested on my lady parts which I'd willingly opened for him. He waited. I knew he was waiting for a sign. I reveled in the sensation of a man's hand perched atop my delicate labia. I marveled at the tingly sensations pulsing through those pink rose petals under this large masculine hand. A long, deep moan welled up from somewhere deep inside and escaped my lips. Like the rumbling thunder snow which had escorted us to this bed of refuge, my rolling moan of pleasure was also an audible sign. A sign of my blessing given to my lover.
Flooded Ecstasy.
On my back with my arms extending above my head, I gasped as a single middle finger dropped down between my girly lips. My virgin vagina had been penetrated.
I held still. One slow finger dipped deeper into my sexual opening.
I remained still. My breathing grew shallow and quick. One slow finger caressed the satin walls of my cunny.
I knew I was wet before I was entered, but once my labia were parted and his finger came into me, I realized I was flooded like it'd rained for forty days and forty nights down there. Up and down that one slow finger traveled inside me. I loved it.
His one, slow finger came out of my moist cunny and painted my juices onto my flowering petals, making them slick with my own sexy dew drops. Two slow fingers dipped between my cunny lips, dipping deeper than before, curling up to make long artistic strokes on the roof of my feminine parts. That pair of fingers crept out from my contracting vaginal grasping clutches, settling at the back of my vulva, traveling ever so slowly along my labia until they stopped on the upper portion of my lips surrounding my clitoris. Pinching my engorged ridges of feminine flesh together to encase my sassy, tingling clit, he mashed my engorged labia into my clitoris, causing me to burst into a bellowing half-moan, half-scream. I flinched, jiggling my tits as I shot forward from my supine position before flopping back on the mattress.
"You're quite wet and quite sensitive. Are you OK with this?" My ecstasy had already eclipsed my words, my best reply was a pathetic, oscillating moan. Antonio knew enough to take that as a 'yes.'
He placed one hand on my lower stomach as if to pin me down, the other hand spread me open again to receive the insertion of his two, masterful fingers. He slipped into my cleft, rubbing against my tight, virginal walls, making slurpy noises as he splashed around, playing in the shallow end of my private cunny pool. Dripping with lubricating nectar, his fingers made a slow ascent toward my white-hot clit.
I met his fingers with bucking hips, arching and aching to drive my hot twat into his hand. Oh god did my little nubbin need some rubbing. He held my pelvis down, but I fought against his pressure, grinding and thrusting my crotch hoping to hump his happy hand. Holding me down, he rubbed all around my twitching princess, but avoided touching her. I hated it.
Antonio was making me desperate to lose my virginity, which I think was his plan.
"Michelle, looks like I've got a tiger by her tail," he mused as he knelt above me. He watched me writhe beneath him as his hand moved from my stomach to my bobbing breasts as his other hand probed my secrets depths, stroking my sexy button, bringing his bedded virgin to the edge of exploding in a fiery ball, hot enough to melt all the ice in Texas.
I purred, I simpered, I started to try and find some words to beg for release. Antonio held his fingers to my lips. "Shush. I see what you want, but I know what you need." He said that as he lingered with a single fingertip on my personal pearl. He gave me a couple of quick flicks that drove me wild. Then he stopped.
With a wide smile shining through the apartment's dim light, he took my hand and lifted me to a sitting position. He gave my round, hanging boobies a rough squeeze, then rolled onto his back. Antonio had just given up and stopped our passionate foreplay. When he said, 'I know what you need,' he must've meant that as a virgin church worker I needed to protect my virtue, and he was not going to give me my first sexual penetration. He was going to be a gentleman and protect my innocence.
I'd never felt so misunderstood. I didn't want my innocence protected, I didn't even want it prolonged for another minute. We'd been through so much together the last few hours. We had the thunder snow sign from the heavens, we were supposed to be together and safe. I wanted Antonio. I wanted him to understand my feelings. Truth be told, I wanted to be fucked.
I looked at him lying on his back, staring at my elongated nipples and deep areolas, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him my sinful, lustful, naughty longings. A young lady just does not ask a man to come fuck her in so many words, even if she feels it's what she needs. I was deflated, maybe there was something wrong with me. Antonio doesn't want me, Antonio doesn't find me attractive. I probably did something wrong. I'm a virgin, I don't know what I'm supposed to do for a lover.
Pure Virginity Lost, Earthen Soul Found.
"Come here, he cooed," putting his hands around my hips. "This is your first time, isn't it?"
I nodded from my kneeling position, thinking I was about to cry for some reason.
"This is your first time, Michelle, you need to trust me. I know what you need. Michelle, you need to take this slow. A rare fate has brought us together and blessed us with thunder snow, I told you it was a sign. You need to let me take you slow. I have a feeling you'll want to remember this time and remember it fondly. OK? Trust me?"
I nodded again as my eyes brimmed with tears. Was I happy? Excited? A little nervous? Ready to give my virginity away to Antonio? Did I truly trust him? Yes. Yes. Yes.
With a strong grip, he seized my hips, guiding me over to him. I followed his lead, straddling his thighs. I gazed down at his flat, broad chest and let my eyes wander to his handsome, elegant and still so fascinating manhood. I wiped my eyes and grabbed his cock and gave it a few vigorous tugs, this time I wasn't afraid I'd break it.
He grew thick, powerful and long in my grip. I loved having the ability to bring him to attention and I wanted all of his attention and I wanted it all up inside of me.
Antonio manipulated my tits as I focused on tending to making his magnificent cock grow tall and proud. My pelvis rocked as I stroked and he caressed, I could tell I was getting wet all over again.
"Michelle, maybe we've got days before this ice melts and our flights are ready to board. So, take it slow, take this at your own pace and when you're ready, I'll be gentle as you mount me."
I appreciated what Antonio was doing for me, but I was wet and hot. I was a craving hot mess of a naughty girl needing to mount this man. I wanted it bad and I wanted it now. I dipped and ground and humped hard on his thighs wedged between my spread open legs. I was working myself up for a flying mount. I was dizzy with the idea of finally finding sexual fulfillment. Antonio was right, I wanted this to be the best orgasm a girl could ever get. I want my first to be remembered for the ages.
Antonio watched me riding high in the saddle, driving my lady parts against his thigh bones as I held his pommel. He could hear and see how sexually agitated I was getting. He reached around me, scooped up my ass and placed my sopping wet cunny against his towering erection.
I'd decided he was going to be invited to play on the front porch, but I wouldn't invite him in - not just yet. I was going to make this slow and memorable, enjoying every last tickling bubble and tingling twat twitch. My wet labia parted easily and he slipped into my succulent cunny as I closed over him, thrusting my hips up and down his shaft, bathing him in my natural lubricants.
"Come inside me. I want to take you inside me, Antonio. I'm ready, oh god I want you, I want to feel you."
"Take me inside Michelle. Take me easy, adjust yourself until you're comfortable." He lifted my hips and placed me on his manly spire, a monument erected in sweet desire and earthy lust. I pressed against his cock, letting it expand and grow inside my warm and eager cunny. It felt so sexually exciting to be pressed together and to feel him rise into me. I eased down to consume his flesh with my hungry, forbidden lips.
He entered me. I pushed myself onto his erection. He wedged me open, stretching my cunt and stretching my beliefs in what was proper for a young Christian lady. I held him part way in, my sex muscles welcomed him, hugging and tugging at his arrival. Antonio's boner was wide, expanding and forcing my virgin earth to give way to the plow.
It was a paradox, there was strong desire and there was also hesitation from the discomfort. My lover stroked my hips. I let him expand into me, filling my void. We were one flesh. I was hurting and I was wanting more of him. The discomfort faded as the desire bloomed inside my womb. I craved to be taken fully and wholly as a woman. I wanted him to burrow deep into me, filling me with sexual satisfaction. I needed to take hold of this man and squeeze him with my vulgar cunt, until I imploded with a transcendent, volcanic orgasm.
I plunged my rippling girl parts onto his upright shaft. I squealed, "Oh, oh, oh, that feels good. Oh I feel your hardness deep inside me. You're filling me full and tight. Oh, that feels good." I sat still, marveling at the fullness that was stuffed inside of me. I never imagined that planting a man's cock deep into my plowed furrow could do so much for a girl.
"I need to be fucked now, Antonio," I pleaded as the urge for an orgasm grew stronger. "Yes, fuck me. Please give me an orgasm, Antonio. Yes, I want this, yes, yes, fill me with your cock."
I was already riding him, bucking and galloping over his erection as I was moaning to be given an explosive orgasm. He held me in place as he bounced his hips up into me, jamming my inner reaches and thundering against my virgin vaginal walls. I loved it. I loved it so much.
I rode boldly, I was greedy, I wanted to wholly envelop that hard cock with my cunt, I wanted him to poke through me and into my lungs. My arms extended over his shoulders, my breasts swung with the rhythm of our fucking; I'd push, back off as he thrust, and I'd push again. I was in a tizzy, chirping and moaning and barking with all of these fantastic sensations that were filling me from below.
My naked lover had one more trick up his sleeve. I was barking and screaming, thinking I was close to another orgasm when he put his thumb between us, finding my clit and rubbed me while I furiously fucked him from above. It took but a moment before I exploded into a gazillion shards of fuzzy lights. I convulsed, my legs went rubbery as a thunderous orgasm forced all the air out of my lungs in a gasping moan that maybe lasted twenty-five minutes - or so it seemed.
A Valentine's Day to Remember.
I layed on top of his chest for a long time before he rolled me off, "Good girl, Michelle. Do you think you'll remember your first?"
"I don't know if I will. I don't think I would have remembered my name unless you used it right then. My brain is kind of fogged and my girly parts are fluttery and also sticky. I think it's caused by a rare meteorological phenomenon, thunder snow."
Antonio laughed and I loved him for it. "Thunder snow, I told you it was a special sign for us." Then he added, "I could be wrong, but I'm not. This was good. Maybe this could get better." He paused, then took me and kissed me, "Happy Valentine's Day my love."
Preaching with the Passion of Thunder Snow.
My husband is Louis 'Trey' Enrique Antonio Escamilla the third.
He's gone by Trey for years, but when we first met he used Antonio. Me, a prim and proper virgin church youth director with a reputation to uphold. Reverend Michelle, confessing to be a hypocrite. Life is a messy paradox, a mix of heavenly spirit and earthly soul. If that makes me a hypocrite, I'm right in there with some of the best of 'em. So be it.
Of course, I cannot condone fornication. But I'd say that in life, one will find many a paradox presenting itself. I'd acknowledge that if one finds an appealing opportunity, one should jump on it - with both feet - with both feet tucked under your haunches, cowgirl style, and enjoy the ride.
Based on a post by SandyMarl for Literotica.