Religious Nut

After Miriam converted, almost out of the blue, to a fringe fundamentalist Judeo-Christian religious sect shortly after turning 30, all her friends thought she'd lost her mind, but she knew she'd made the right decision.

For the first time in her life, she felt like she didn't have to worry about which behaviors were "right" or "wrong"; finally she could just have someone else decide all that crap for her.

True, a lot of the rules she now had to adopt were pretty weird and strict: all sorts of strange dietary guidelines, a lengthy list of tasks she wasn't supposed to perform on Sundays, certain words she suddenly had to excise from her vocabulary, and definitely no sexual activity outside of marriage.

Perhaps the oddest rule of all, if a relatively easy one to follow, was that she not allowed to wear any clothing in public that displayed either her elbows or her knees. Long-sleeve shirts only. Skirts and dresses, but no pants -- pants were a big no-no. Even the slightest hint of cleavage was out of the question.

Her friends and family shook their heads as Miriam tried to explain all the things she could "no longer do," teasingly asking her what century it was, and wondering precisely when she would snap out of this "phase," but they quickly realized that she was in it for the long haul; no amount of reasoned discussion was going to make her give it up and go back to her former, more contemporary ways.

Funny thing was, she'd been quite the little sex fiend in college. Handjobs, blowjobs, tittyfucks, anal -- she excelled in all areas of the curriculum. Then suddenly, the woman hits her thirties and BAM. No sex till marriage. Not even masturbation. Doesn't it always seem to be the girls with the most intense libidos who randomly undergo some extreme, internal wave of shame and regret and do a complete 180 in the opposite direction?

Well, if abstinence was what God wanted, then abstinence was what she was going to give him. But as the months rolled on and on, and every prospective husband she met at her religious services was overweight and out-of-shape, bit by bit, inch by inch, Miriam was kinda, sorta... starting to lose it.

She would lie in bed and munch on her fingernails while the most depraved fantasies would roam around in her head -- but nope! According to the sect, she needed to save all that shit up for her very special and equally rule-abiding husband.

Still, she'd been good. There was that one night she'd leaned against the washing machine, but that wasn't, like, an orgasm, you know? Not really. That was just a little spasm she'd had leaning against the washing machine. Didn't count. She hadn't broken any rules.

*****

The first time Max saw Miriam, he hardly noticed her -- she might as well have been somebody's grandmother.

It was one of those evenings where his old friends from college, Heidi and Eric, had invited him over to their apartment for a movie night, and she was sitting on the corner of their living room floor, wearing a long-sleeve denim button-up shirt, and a floor-length blue and yellow flower-print skirt. Not unattractive, exactly, but not obvious fapping material. There was actually another girl there, Alexandra, whom he'd never met before either, and she was initially the one who caught his eye, in a snug pink t-shirt and white jeans.

Heidi gave some quick introductions. "Max, this is Alexandra."

"Hi."

"And this is Miriam."

"Hello."

The entire evening passed by without them saying even one more word to each other.

*****

For the longest time, Heidi and Eric, who'd recently gotten engaged, had been trying to hook up their college buddy Max with a suitable partner, but it was proving to be like threading the proverbial needle. Sure, he was cute, witty, and smart -- short, wavy black hair, brown eyes, quirky grin, bookish glasses, preppie fashion sense, skinny physique -- but a lot of girls just didn't seem to "get" him.

Compared to the typical 25-year-old male, he was so picky, so cautious. All his friends were ready to fuck anything that moved, but he cared about stupid shit like "trust" and "shared interests" and all that garbage. Ah, well. It didn't stop them from inviting him over to their apartment or to other various group outings now and then to see if he'd strike up a freak connection or two.

For instance, a couple of weeks after the movie night, they invited Max out, along with six or seven others in their circle, to karaoke. About twenty minutes in, he recognized Miriam, this time wearing a black long-sleeve crew-neck shirt and a lengthy, pleated khaki skirt.

"What is up with this Miriam chick?" he wondered to himself. "She looks like a Victorian-era school teacher, or a Quaker nanny." But to his slight bewilderment, somewhere in the back of his mind, Max made a note to himself that she was... actually kind of... pretty?

Heidi tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the touchscreen on the wall behind them.

"Hey, you should do a song."

She knew that A) he liked to sing, and that B) he liked to pretend that he didn't.

"I dunno, Heidi."

"Who cares? You don't even know anyone here. Just one song and I'll quit bugging you."

"Fine."

He looked the list over, and let out a quick chuckle.

"How about 'Let's Get It On'?"

"Seriously? You'd do it?"

Max had suggested it mostly as a joke (the joke being that describing himself as a virgin would have hardly even captured the full scope of his sexual inexperience), but once Heidi shared the suggestion with Eric, they immediately dared him to go through with it.

Sure enough, a few songs later, it was Max's turn, and he got up there and unleashed his inner Marvin Gaye. Somewhere right around the midway point, he impulsively, and somewhat satirically, took off his light blue t-shirt and twirled it over his head, eliciting hoots and hollers from Eric, Heidi, several other drunken strangers littered throughout the place, and, surprisingly, the mysterious Miriam, who clapped her hands together with glee.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Max sat down and took a breather.

"Here you go, Max." Heidi shoved an order of sweet potato fries in front of his exhausted face.

"What's this?"

"Compliments of Miriam. Looks like she really enjoyed your performance."

Max glanced over at Heidi's unusually-attired friend, sitting at the other end of the table, and briefly caught her eye as she waved her palm flirtatiously.

*****

"Your turn guys."

About a month or so later, it was game night at Heidi and Eric's. They pulled out a long-untouched and now comically dated Trivial Pursuit box, and Max and Miriam ended up playing on the same team, although Miriam didn't seem to be quite as into it as he was, wandering in and out of the room, gladly letting most of the other team members do the heavy lifting.

To his surprise and befuddlement, Max sensed a little crush brewing. Her short, curly brown hair gave the rest of her face -- with its high cheek bones and slightly pointy nose -- an intelligent, confident, worldly quality. The top of her upper lip clung more closely to the bottom of her nose than usual, slightly exposing her upper teeth even when her mouth was "closed," a little trait that, for whatever reason, he found inscrutably hot. She sort of bore a bit of a resemblance to, of all people, '90s supermodel Eva Herzigova?

Oh, and another thing: as he spent more and more time around her, Max began to realize that Miriam possessed the most wonderful pair of breasts he'd ever seen. Not grotesquely large like, say, a member of the cast of Baywatch, but out of all the girls he had crushes on, Miriam's breasts were easily the largest -- an amusing irony, considering that, of all the girls he had crushes on, she was by far the one who appeared to be the most reluctant to capitalize on this fortuitous biological gift.

"All right, it's time to let the other teams catch up a little bit," he boasted half-arrogantly as he got up to grab a quick drink in the kitchen. He found Miriam standing near the counter, chatting with another player who was also taking a break from the game.

She turned to Max and smiled. "Representing our team well, I hope?"

Before he could respond, she reached out and placed her hand directly on the right side of his belly, and held it there for longer than he'd expected. Just a tiny flirtatious gesture, but he instantly felt a wave of... warmth? Comfort? Encouragement, trust, desire?

A plethora of pleasant sensations were emanating from her palm. That one simple touch from Miriam suggested that she knew things about him that he didn't even know about himself. Hot damn. He'd heard people talk about "chemistry," but whatever the hell "chemistry" was, this was it.

And yet, something wasn't quite...

*****

He tried to find the proper moment to ask Heidi and Eric for a little more info on his bizarre object of affection. Fortunately, a couple of weeks later, they invited Max to a spur-of-the-moment excursion at the art museum, and while the three of them were grabbing lunch in the courtyard, he took his shot.

"So uh... how do you know Miriam?"

"Oh, you know, we worked together at the law firm, when I was an intern," Heidi explained. "And then we did a book club together, but... I haven't seen her around too much lately, she's always got a lot of things going on."

"She converted to this super strict religion," Eric added. "Apparently she doesn't do certain stuff on Sundays, she won't eat this or that... I don't think she's allowed to wear clothes that display her elbows, or her knees."

"Yeah. I thought she seemed to dress kind of oddly."

"It's a little whack, but... hey, judge not lest ye be judged yourself." Eric chuckled.

"I know, it's kinda weird," Heidi agreed. "But otherwise, she's really awesome, really fun to hang out with. It's her life, you know? She loved your karaoke performance."

"Uh huh."

"I think she's trying to find a husband, you know, someone who's also a member of her sect, but she's having, shall we say... a hard time."

It all sounded pretty ridiculous. Max figured that anyone who wasn't born into a specific fundamentalist religion and then just decided to wholeheartedly convert one day, as a fully grown adult, was dealing with some sort of deep psychological issues, but... it wasn't really his business, was it?

Well, she seemed to get a kick out of constantly flirting with him, and he wasn't inclined to dissuade her from keeping it up. He'd let her take things as far as she wanted to go -- which probably wasn't going to be very far, but she was easily the biggest crush he had going at the moment, and he'd take what he could get.

*****

A few days later, over lunch with Heidi, it was Miriam's turn.

"So what's up with this Max guy? He's a cutie."

"Oh yeah, Max is a lot of fun."

"Girlfriend?"

"No, he's single -- it's kind of hard to believe, but I don't think Max has ever had a girlfriend."

"Really."

"We're workin' on it, but... yeah, I'm pretty sure he's a virgin, and he's just kind of inexperienced in general."

"So weird. He's a total catch! He kinda of reminds me of one of my old high school boyfriends."

"Well, I don't think he's the type to join any... unusual religious sects, so if you're wondering what I think you're wondering, you're gonna have to keep looking."

"Yeah. I gotcha. It's getting kind of ridiculous. You'd think there'd be some 'eligible bachelors' in my sect who were, you know, thin and fit, more of the 'Max' type."

"Yeah, well..." If Heidi didn't exactly sympathize, she kept that to herself. "But, you know, you can hang out with him and have fun with him and stuff. He certainly seems to like you."

"Mm-hmm."

"Anyway, the wedding's in a couple of weeks. You coming to my little bachelorette thing?"

"Sure, why not?"

*****

"Hey Miriam."

"Hey Max." She rubbed him on the side as he approached her, and he couldn't help but bend over slightly in a not-too-successful attempt to hide his aroused reaction to her little gesture. "You got something in store for us tonight?"

"Look, it really wasn't my idea."

It was the night before the wedding. Heidi's friends had decided to put together a quick bachelorette party for the bride-to-be, and given that Chippendales was just a tad out of their budget range, Eric had been coaxed into gathering up a crew of their mutual male friends, purchased some thin white boxer briefs for them to wear, printed up a pile of fake money, and resolved to do it the amateur way.

Despite Max not exactly being the Thunder from Down Under type, he agreed to participate in the ad hoc "strip show," which Heidi and her lady friends all got a tremendous kick out of -- especially, to his surprise, Miriam.

As Hot Chocolate's "You Sexy Thing" blasted through the living room (a clichéd choice, but alas, he did as he was told), Max and the other males slowly stripped down to their underwear, attempting, with mixed success, to remove each item of clothing in unison. The last thing Max expected to see was ultra-devout Miriam eagerly participating, but whatever the rules of her restrictive faith were, apparently tugging on the elastic band of Max's boxers and gleefully sliding a wad of fake bills under it was not on the prohibited list.

*****

The hangers clicked and clicked against the silver pole in her closet. Tomorrow was the big day. Not for Miriam, unfortunately, but at least she knew Max would be there too, eager to follow her lead and bask in her company.

And so, after coming home from the bachelorette party, the memory of Max's jumpy and excitable virgin penis only inches away from her fingers, Miriam rifled through an array of long-sleeve dresses in her closet.

"Hmmm. Which one would he enjoy the most? Which one will I enjoy wearing the most?"

Suddenly, her fingers came upon a plush, fuzzy cloth, and she knew what garment was going to get the job done.

*****

And so, the next afternoon, Miriam made her way into the small auditorium wearing an extremely form-fitting, dark green, long sleeve, floor-length velvet gown, which accentuated her curves in the most flattering way possible and left little to the imagination, with a pair of knee-high leather boots (with 3-inch heels) beneath it. The dress sported a short one-inch collar that covered up the bottom of her neck, as well as sleeves that somehow appeared to grow narrower around her wrists.

Wrapped securely in the velvet cloth, with her thick, moussed, curly brown hair hanging down around her chin, Miriam felt like an old Hollywood movie starlet, imagining she was perhaps Rita Hayworth or Ava Gardner hitting the town for a sultry nightclub excursion.

Satin gloves would have probably been a touch too far.

And then, the reaction she'd been waiting for. As she wandered over to the back row, where Max was seated, she noticed his eyes unintentionally dart straight toward her chest, and then hastily and somewhat comically glance away. Mm-hmm. Clearly she'd chosen well.

All in all, the wedding ceremony was quite touching, but Miriam's mind was... um... elsewhere. The lights came down, "Uptown Funk" began blasting out of a gratuitously large set of speakers, and her eyes scanned the room for Max, quickly finding him sitting in a chair near the catering table, a paper plate of hors d'oeuvres in his hands.

He was looking sharp in a matching black sport coat, slacks, and belt, silver tie, dark green dress shirt, and black angled toe derby shoes.

"Come on Max," she said, tugging him by his tie.

"Uh... I'm eating."

"Come on!"

"Uh... Miriam, I don't really know how to dance."

"Whatever, I'll show you." As if he was going to say no to her? In that dress?

He stood up, put his plate down, and followed her to the middle of the dance floor, where she proceeded to teach him some relatively simple dance moves -- ones that essentially involved the two of them facing each other, clasping their hands together, then Miriam dragging her arms across Max's chest until her right hand would touch his right hand, then twirling him around, repeating the same motion on their backsides, twirling him around again, and then starting the whole process from the top.

After they spun and gyrated their way through "Love Shack" and "(I've Had) The Time of My Life," Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight" gave them a nice opportunity to slow things down a bit. Despite his claims of dancing inexperience, she could see that he had quickly gotten the hang of this... and quickly sensed that another well-hung part of him, residing behind his black slacks, was enjoying it as well.

It had been so long since she'd felt a nice, hard cock pressing against her body. Good God, it was about time. She began sliding and twirling more and more slowly, letting Max's hands glide all over her velvet-covered frame, enjoying his arousal poking and shifting as she moved against him.

About halfway through Earth, Wind & Fire's "September," her partner spoke up.

"Uh, Miriam, can I take a break?"

Max went off to the bathroom and didn't come back for ten minutes. She laughed to herself, figuring it was probably taking him at least five minutes for his erection to die down substantially enough to even allow him to urinate. Oh, men!

Then they resumed their surprisingly physical dancing, Miriam making it clear, with every attempt of Max's to sit back down, that she hadn't received her fill of spinning and slithering just yet. Eventually they glanced around and realized that the dance floor, and the reception area in general, had noticeably emptied.

Miriam had an idea.

"You wanna dance a little more back at my place?" she proposed. Given how blatantly Max was crushing on her, she knew it was more like a command than a suggestion.

"OK."

*****

Miriam opened the door and turned on the lights.

"Here, let me get the music."

She fiddled with her computer and found out a playlist of Latin jazz -- suitable for the occasion. Now in her dimly-lit living room, they continued right where they left off, Miriam removing Max's sport coat, tossing it onto her sofa, then taking Max's arms and letting them drift and roam with increasing abandon against her tight velvet dress. She felt so cozy and energetic and voluptuous and she wanted to appreciate it, and allow him to appreciate it, just a little bit more.

"Hold on, I just wanna... make a little adjustment to my dress, OK? Be right back."

She stepped into her bathroom. "I'll still be fully 'clothed,' right? I'm not breaking any 'rules,' right?" Sure, whatever. Miriam told herself it was fine. When she came back out, she slowly soaked in the look on Max's face as it dawned on him that he could now see the taut velvet cloth firmly hugging her bountiful breasts, her hardened nipples, and the triangular area between her thighs.

Miriam's little "adjustment" amounted to her removing her bra and panties, while otherwise leaving her dress on.

As they resumed their rudimentary dance moves once more, she found Max's hands acting a little too timidly for her liking, so when she turned around so that her back rested against his chest (and her rear against his stiffness), she guided his hands up her belly and over her cloth-covered mounds, letting him know that, "Yes, you can touch me there."

As she ground her plush derrière into his crotch, his arms and fingers began to roam more freely up and down the soft fabric, sliding over her thighs and then back up across her chest, his fingers haphazardly flicking her nipples through the material.

They were having a good time, all right.