Emily

Emily has been a member of our church since forever, and is always to be seen in some group or other. She is older than me...mid to late 30s I’d say, and up until that particular service she was just another face in the crowd. 

I found myself sitting behind and slightly diagonal to her. Covid rules have played hell with the seating, but every time she knelt down, her panties rose above her jeans a little more each time, and her t shirt rode up a tad to reveal that she has a tattoo on her back. I would never have thought she would lie face down, topless and experience the pain of a tattoo.

I found myself staring at that little end of material as it poked out. By the third or fourth time we knelt, it was obvious that it was a thong. Equally obvious was that she has THE most gorgeous arse! And right now, a thin strip of material was nestled tightly between those pert cheeks. And what of further down? 

There is such a wide variety in girls’ pussies. Some have large, fleshy outer lips, some have hardly any. Some have inner lips that hang down longer than the outer lips. Some have big clits, some have small ones. I began to wonder what Emily’s vagina might look like, and how far that thong was nestled between her labia. Was she wet? Did she like the feeling of a thong, or was it, there just another pair of undies? I remembered the very first time I put a thong on. It almost took my breath away. To have so little covering my sex...and when I moved, I felt it move against me in a way other styles of undies simply don’t.

And so, my mind was absolutely not on the mass I had gone to attend. (Sigh....Bless me father, for I have sinned...again!) I became totally transfixed on Emily. I moved slightly every time we sat until I was close enough to her to smell her scent...to feel her body warmth. Emily is about as Catholic as they make them, so I doubt very much if she has ever had a lesbian thought in her head, but less than two feet behind her, I was having them for her...and with her. 

I so wanted to unzip those tight jeans, slip my hand down the front of her undies, and feel lower, lower, over her mound (hairless? Trimmed? Wild?) and between those moist lips. My other hand would be up under her t shirt and cupping her boob, bigger than mine, of course, but then, whose aren’t? I would love to make her feel the thrill of the forbidden (in her world at least) the electricity of female loving. I imagined myself finding her clit, and making it erect and firm by my touch. I thought of kneeling behind her and tugging her jeans and thong down, pausing half way to notice the cum stains in her crotch. Then kissing her bum cheeks, before probing deeper with my tongue to her tight little asshole. Perhaps bending her forward over the pew and pushing my tongue deep inside her vagina and sucking her wetness greedily into my mouth. 

I thought of her tensing as strange and unusual feelings coursed through her body, and her mind fought them. “No. I mustn’t. This is another girl doing it to me. I must cum....I must NOT Cum....I....I....” I imagined that the more she fought against the tidal wave engulfing her, the more she got that delicious ‘I’m going to pee’ feeling. Maybe she even vocalises it in order to get me to stop. “Oh....please...no more....I feel like I’m gonna pee.” How would se react, I wonder, if I told her to go ahead....that I would swallow anything that came from that beautiful cunt. 

And so I turn her around, and focus my tongue’s efforts on her clit. Is it my imagination, or is she thrusting against my mouth? I can feel her hand on the back of my head, knotting my hair in her fist, but not pulling my head away. Instead, she pulls me closer, harder against her cunt. Her feet are either side of me now on the pew I was sitting on. Her bum rests on the back of her pew and her knees are spread wide. I am drowning in her wetness. I reach to the floor where her discarded thong lies, and I push it between my legs as I kneel before her. Not for the first time, I am thankful I didn’t wear panties today. Being panty-less in church was always a blast for me. I push Emily’s thong inside me, soaking it further, but with me this time. It causes me to shudder, a fact that translates itself to my mouth and my tongue. 

Emily is nearly there now, and I decide that since this, in her book is forbidden, dark magic, I may as well do something else forbidden in her world. My fingers, already wet from me reach upwards, but not to her cunt. I find the tiny, puckered flesh of her bum hole, and push two fingers up her arse. That does it. She cums violently into my waiting mouth. 

None of this happened, of course. Emily stood, sat, knelt in front of me like the good Catholic girl she is, while I, in the pew behind, imagined the scenario I have described. I wasn’t wearing undies though, and as a result of my musings, I had become extremely wet. So wet that when Emily turned towards me for the sign of peace, her nostrils dilated and I knew in that instant she could smell me. 

And after church? Why home, of course. The priest expressed his delight at seeing me and hoped to see me more often. I caught a brief glimpse of Emily as she walked off to serve coffee, and I had a little stab of jealousy at whoever is getting up her...even if it’s only her own fingers. 

Ah well......