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Lonely.....and hurting.

Posted by: Age: 19 Posted on: 4 comments
7 likes 455 views Category: Masturbation Female Solo Tags: Female Solo, Maturbation Female Solo, Sorrow, Masturbation, Confession,

Life goes on. I keep waking up every day. Sometimes, I am ok....other times.....most times.....I have a deep untouchable ache where Amy used to be. I loved her.....I still love her. Of all the sexual things I've done, and I've done a lot, Amy was my first love, and I'm not over her by any means. I've had a couple of experiences since we parted......even with my brother....but its solitude I crave right now. I don't want to get involved with someone else, and I realise that I don't want to be fucked purely for the sake of it....but then again, I am cunt-wetting horny! All the time. 


I'm sitting in church. There's no one else here, and I'm using the space, the silence and the smell of incense to just chill. I'm not praying, I don't really do that any more, although I did light a candle for Amy. Maybe that's praying.  I'm sitting in the pew, looking at the altar and the crucifix. I try to raise my mind to higher thoughts, but instead, my brain keeps tugging me back to my knickers and reminding me that I am very, very wet. I've masturbated in church before, and to do so again would be no big deal as they say. But my clit is pounding, and every breath makes my small titties ache.  I look at the crucifix hanging from the wall. Are you there? I mean, really, are you there? Are you the God who filled me with such passion, such desire, and then took it away? Why would you do that? I spread my legs really wide and hitch up my skirt. Look! Look at what you've done to me! You gave me this cunt (it's not a quim today) you gave me a clit that won't be still...it's YOUR fucking fault! And you sent her away! I tug my knickers to one side. You fucking two faced cunt! It's all love, love, love, isn't it? But where's my love? Where's what I need to make me whole? You gave her to me and then you gave her to someone else.  I realise I'm crying, the tears rolling down my face and onto my t shirt, dripping onto and soaking into the cotton and making my nipples transparent. How long am I there, my legs spread, my knickers pulled aside, and both my eyes and my cunt crying? I don't know. But I do know when I feel a hand on my shoulder and the gentle voice of Fr Andrew asking me what's wrong. He makes no reference to me exposing myself, and ignores the scent of my cunt in the air. He asks if I want to talk....not confess....just talk. He's young, attractive, and for the briefest second I imagine him fucking me, but it passes. I make no move to cover myself. I want to shock. I'm angry.  He sits in the pew in front, and turns to look at me. I know he can see everything I've got, but as I said, I want to shock. I tell him about my sexuality, I tell him I've fucked my own dad, my own brother, I tell him I'm a whore, a Jezebel. I tell him about Amy, and I tell him I'm constantly horny since she left. He listens, making no comment, making no attempt to have me put my knickers back in place or close my legs.  He tells me that sex is a gift from God. (Like he'd know!) and that an orgasm can be a prayer too. "We were made by the Creator in infinite detail. The pleasure of orgasm is a celebration of His love for us." (Well that's a new one on me....is he chatting me up?) "I can't condone your past, but neither do I condemn you for it. It sounds like Amy was your first real love...your heart loved her enough to let her go, and it's big enough to consider the new life within her. That shows remarkable depth for one so young. I'm still exposed, but I'm finding a huge sense of peace at his words, and I'm leaning back against the pew. He glances down at my sex, then at the crucifix "You know, you can't shock Him. He saw things when on earth that you wouldn't believe, but more than that, He sees into the hearts and minds of everyone, everywhere. Do you really think that the sight of something God himself created willshock him?" And Fr .Andrew stands, makes the sign of the cross over my head and walks away. I'm still horny, still so in need of release, but I find the anger has gone...the need to be shocking, to insult, to scream. It's faded to nothing. I reach between my legs. Two fingers slip inside me so easily, and they press firmly against my g spot. I realise how close to orgasm I am, how close to cumming right here. For a moment I'm worried that if I do, I'll make a mess and squirt everywhere, or even pee myself. But something in me tells me to trust myself.  I look at the cross, but my mind has A,yes face before it. I look into her eyes, and see that familiar smile, as I come, the two merge into one. This is no sexual orgasm, this is an orgasm from the heart, the spirit, and I send it to Amy with all the love I have.  I don't squirt, but I keep cumming, wave after wave. And with each wave the tears flow. I realise I haven't really grieved at her departure, I've ranted, raved, sought solace in perverse sex, but not really allowed myself to grieve.  When, finally, the orgasm subsides, I feel something I haven't felt for a very long time. Peace. Inner peace. That peace that comes from a deep-seated resolution. I realise that I love Amy. I always will. The short time we had together was wonderful beyond my ability to put it into words, and now, I am left with its memory. If I let it, that memory will fester like an abcess, or, I can plant it as a seed in the very heart of what makes me me, and let it grow into something I can share with another one day.  As I leave the church, for the first time in years, I genuflect, cross myself, and thank God for being there. 

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