A Series of Surprises with a Church Friend

Many years ago, I had a female friend in church who was almost 10 years older than I was, was very kind to me, and had been married but was divorced for almost a decade. Her marriage had been tumultuous and ended badly, involved physical abuse toward her, and her husband coming out as a gay man. All of that hurt her a lot. I hadn’t been married yet and was not dating anyone so sometimes we would go to movies together or have dinner together. Eventually she suggested that we might do a real date and I was able to overcome the shyness I had about even asking her for that and of course said yes because she made the first move. After we went out for dinner, we enjoyed a movie together. Because of her conservative attitude, Irene and I went to a movie that was from Disney because the other movies were two adult in theme or too violent. So what happened when we got back to her place was a complete surprise to me. When we got back to her place she brought out some soft drinks for us and we sat on the couch. Irene snuggled up next to me which I loved but I was surprised at. I always had a hard time making those kinds of moves and I was glad she did it first. She put her hand on my chest and leaned in and asked if it was okay if we kissed. I responded by just giving her a kiss a light pack nothing deep. But then she leaned into me and gave me a very nice French kiss. We spent time like that on the couch for about 30 minutes kissing deeply and passionately, and her touching my chest and arms, until I was very excited. Then she decided that it was getting late and we both needed to get up early the next day so she told me that we needed to finish for the night. As I stood up, I noticed that she noticed I had a tent in my slacks. I said my goodbyes and we had some nice kisses at the door while we hugged. Going to my Jeep, I was surprised that she was interested in me and that you wanted to kiss too. She called me first after the date and invited me to a concert at another church. Wow. It felt good to be pursued by Irene. That she was older and very appealing was amazing to me. During the concert, I reached over and held her hand. She leaned her head over and put on my shoulder, then whispered, “Not at church but I love it.” So, we waited until after and went to her place again. Again, we kissed and kissed from the moment we entered the house, moving to the couch, then me following her to the kitchen like a puppy dog while she got sodas for us so I interrupted her with more kisses. Of course, I was hard as rock again; while we kissed standing it pressed against her. After we finished our sodas it was still a respectable hour of the night and she asked if I would be ok going home. I told her of course I would and we kissed goodbye. For several more minutes. Honestly, after each date I had to do two things. One was use a lot of chapstick and the second was masturbate furiously. I don’t remember how many dates we’d been on but after 10 or 12, she and I were kissing at her place again and she pulled back and even sat back right after her roaming hand passed right over my erection. I thought maybe she was offended that I was hard or something because it was so obvious that she had felt my stiff penis and then almost jumped back. “I’m feeling guilty,” she said. I asked her if I had done something wrong. “No, but maybe I am. I can tell you are very excited and that is probably from all the kissing.” I admitted to her that yes, I got excited by kissing her and I apologized profusely. She leaned back in and kissed me and her hand went right to my erection, pressing it through my jeans. “No, no, sweetie, that’s what is supposed to happen when you are with someone you love and you are kissing. But I feel guilty for....” Her voice trailed off. “Why, Irene? I don’t like making you feel guilty.” I said. Irene then explained to me that she felt guilty for getting me all excited and leaving me like that. She almost had a tear in her eye as she said she didn’t believe in intercourse before marriage and knew that a young man like me must suffer very badly being turned on so often with no release. “Well, I manage on my own,” I sheepishly admitted. She cleared her throat then looked down at my groin, “Do you mean that you take a cold shower or that you are able to pray through the ache or do you play with yourself?” With great reluctance I told her I did masturbate so she followed up, “Are you able to do it in a holy way? You haven't had to use pornography or lurid fantasies?” I must have turned bright red because she continued, “I think I can tell. You looked at something right?” I nodded. “Will you let me help you then? I'll come over to your apartment and help you throw it out if you'll repent of that. It's not good for you, right.” We stood and hugged tight, then she kissed me and looked in my eyes. “Wait here and I'll be right back to help you.” A couple of minutes later, Irene came back to the living room with towels and a wet cloth and a jar of Vaseline. She told me to just relax and let her “work her magic” so I'd be relaxed and relieved.  Sitting on the coffee table, she undid my belt and dropped my pants to the floor then peeled my boxer briefs over my mostly hard penis. The tip was all wet with precum and string of it extended to the fabric as she lowered them. “Oh my,” she gasped. I apologized for my erection and for the wet tip but she stopped me, “No, no, that means you're very virile because that not only helps prepare the penis to enter the vagina with slippery good feeling but also gets your urethra ready for the ejaculation so the sperm are lively and perfect.” Wow. So prim and proper other times and yet clinical and sexy now. She made a place for me to sit by laying out the towels on the couch and then unbuttoned my dress shirt. “Make yourself comfortable, sweetie,” she directed in a cute voice. Then, taking a large dollop of Vaseline on her hand and rubbing it on both hands to warm it up, she started talking about all sorts of non sequiturs interspersed with very sexual comments while sensually applying the petroleum jelly all over my cock and balls. For example, she was holding one testicle in each hand rolling them between her fingers in the best way ever and talking about how her job as a nurse had changed and she was doing a lot more administrative tasks now and then mentioning casually that she liked that I was not too hairy because a man's “sack” was so fun to touch and kiss if it wasn't like a “brillo pad.” Irene gave me the slowest and most skilled hand play I'd ever felt. She stroked up and down, moved her hands like she was wringing out a cloth, used fingertips and nails so gently until my cock was bright red and throbbing. Every time precum leaked out, and it was a lot, she'd stop, hold my shaft in one hand, and rub it around the head making a comment about how slick it was or how the “juices” smelled like fresh bread when she lifted her fingers to her nose and sniffed. I learned over the course of the next thirty minutes that my penis was larger than her ex-husband, the sounds I made as she tantalized me were appealing, the hardness and softness of my penis was so cool, and that I lasted such a long time she could imagine I'd be a great lover during intercourse. “I'm going to have to try harder since you haven't released yet. I hope it's at least been feeling good,” she stated. I told I'd never felt better. She assured me that I could let go whenever I wanted. Both her hands were on my penis, almost like one would hold a golf club but upside down, firmly and slowly stroking in a consistent rhythm, thumbs going over the underside of the head each upward motion. I began to quiver as the pressure to cum built, listening to her talk about how she wanted to change her garden around. Simultaneously I was overwhelmed by the most sensual touch and the least erotic talk. Irene changed her hands again to the wringing with up and down which caused me to groan rather loudly. “Oh yes, go ahead sweetie, let it out.” And I squirted a thick white stream that flew up forcefully and splattered on my chin and chest. “Oh my gosh! Sorry!” she exclaimed and then the next squirt flew up a different direction since she aimed me away from myself. This wad jumped over her shoulder and splashed on the coffee table behind her and again she said oh my gosh,, followed by another that shot sideways onto my hip and the towel and another “oh goshl” The rest landed on my belly, the floor between us, or her arms and hands. She finished making me ejaculate as wonderfully as she had been in the middle, slow and sensual touch until I was softening. “That was so beautiful,” irene commented. “I've never seen one sport so hard. My husband just, well, you know, didn't go far. It just oozed or whatever. Yours was glorious but I'll have to figure out how to not hit you in the face or get it all over the place,” Irene mused. She took the damp cloth in hand and declared it had gotten cold. Wiping her hands, she left me there all messy and went to rinse it. She cleaned me once with it soapy and then twice with it warmly wet until I was no longer all greasy but was also getting hard again. Irene bent over and squeezed my low shaft in her soft hand and then surprised me again by bending to kiss the tip of my cock. “Very nice, and so much fun. I hope you liked it too but I could do this every day I think and not get tired of it.” I thanked her and kissed her and asked if I could return the favor but she declined, “I’m also very aroused but its different for me.” Over the next months of dating Irene truly mastered giving pleasure and in fact shocked me by using more than her hands. I'd write more if anyone was interested.