The Shop Girl and the Priest

"And you think I'm the right man?" he gulped. "Wow." He moved just the tiniest bit closer to me, "No pressure then."

"No pressure, Russ," I said.

"It's just the most amazing compliment, Jai," he said. "Honestly, I've never known a girl have that much faith in me to... well, to want me to be the one that... err... shows her the way, as it were."

"You're not getting all religious on me, are you?"

"Hell no." He grinned back again, "It's just a particular form of words that could go in either direction, if you get my drift."

"I do," I said. "Anyway, dig out the condom in my bedside table drawer there, and... well, let's do the blessed deed."

"Amen," he said, rolling over me and kissing me.

I was starting to tremble just a tiny bit, and Russ touched my cheek and spoke softly to me,

"Hey, Jai." He kissed me. "It's just making love, Baby, everyone does it."

"Not me," I said with a gasp.

"Have you ever... like... put anything in..." The poor boy was blushing furiously so I stepped in.

"You won't have to worry about any gynaecological... restrictions," I said with a grin. "While I've never had... made love... or anything... I was bought the most splendid vibrator for my eighteenth birthday that I'm particularly good friends with, so... you get MY drift?"

"Wow, Jai..." he purred, reaching under the duvet to stroke my chest and boldly moving across to slip both straps of my bra down so he could stroke my tits.

Oh.

Fuck.

Yeah.

Where had THAT been all my life? No one had EVER touched my bare boobs or my chest, not once, and it was so sensitive and sweet and loving that I trembled again.

"Clip's at the back," I whispered, and moments later felt his hands slide behind me. I felt him struggle a bit, but rather than teach him the magic trick I slid the straps off my arms, pulled the cups up and over my boobs then spun it to unclip it at the front and throw it to the bottom of the bed.

It was his turn to tremble now, and he reached out a very gentle hand to cup and caress me, I closed my eyes with the straight-up pleasure of it.

His touch was amazing and I felt him squeeze my nipples, another first, and I thought I might burst.

"Oh... wow, shit... Russ, that's... oh wow!" As I opened my eyes, it was to watch as he lowered his smiling mouth down over them. "Oh, Ruuuuuusss!" I hissed as he licked and sucked them to the most incredible tingle.

I can't remember just how long we lay together with him playing with my tits, but it was just perfect. Still, I was starting to feel the need to want to get down to this thing I'd never really considered. I wanted that thing that everyone talked about but never talked about, that thing that was on the TV but never on the TV. I wanted to make love, have sex, to be penetrated, and I wanted this man to do it.

I reached down and stroked the back of his stretchy boxers and his very muscular arse, and he groaned at that.

"Feel free to take them off, Jai," he said, sitting up a bit.

"Okay; please feel free to do the same to mine," I said, using the same bright 'yeah whatever' tone that he'd used.

"Of course."

He reached down, grabbed my panties at the back and I felt them tug down, the gusset popping from my bottom, and soon I was pulling up my knees to make it easier for him. Moments later, I was doing the same to his, feeling a pretty large erect penis spring out and bash against my wrist as I did so.

Hmmmmmmm...

In moments we were both naked and it was going to happen now for sure. Russ still wanted to drag things out, though.

"Excuse me for JUST a moment, Jai," he said. "As a caring and compassionate lover, there's something I need to check..." With that, he slid down under the covers, his bare feet and legs appearing at the bottom of the bed.

"What... ooooooh!" I snapped as I felt his hands touch me where only the doctors ever had before.

"Aaaaah," he sighed from beneath my duvet. "This all seems in order..."

WOWWEEEEWOWOW WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Tom was licking my puss and taking long swipes from the bottom all the way up and settling on my clit. While I used to wait until the last minute to put my vibe onto my clit, Russ had no such hesitation, and soon I feeling the most out-of-this-fucking-world touches and licks, and finally sucks, on my most tender organ.

"Russ! RUSS!" I hissed. "You're gonna make me... ooooooooooooyeeeeeeeah!!"

I came.

Fucking hell, didn't I just.

Russ threw the duvet off of us and I looked down between my boobs to his head still between my thighs with one hand curled around my thigh onto my waist with the other resting gently on my inner thigh. My breathing started to settle from my amazing orgasm when my naked lover started to climb up me.

As our face became level, I started to reach for his rock-hard penis and it was suddenly in my hand. I massaged it gently, surprised at how much it felt like my vibe. I stroked it very gently with every 'wanker' hand gesture I'd seen had suggested.

"Go easy, Jai," Russ whispered into my face. "I'm not convinced I'll be able to last very long if you keep that up."

"I've never done this before, Russ," I said grinning up at him. "So I have no comparisons to make." I laid there with his lovely body pressing against mine, enjoying the skin-on-skin feeling, all aglow from the lovely orgasm he'd just given me. It was so nice to feel him so close after our slow build up to this moment, "Russ?" I asked him slowly.

"Yeah?" he licked his lips.

"When you made love before," I tried to phrase this correctly, "Did you... like... wear protection?"

"Yes," he said, "Every time, it was for contraception more than anything else, as she wasn't on the pill."

"So you've never made love to girl without wearing a condom?"

"Yes," he stopped. "I mean, no I've never made love..." He was getting more flustered. "Let me rephrase that. Every time I made love to my previous girlfriend I always wore a condom." He smiled again. "And she's the only other girl I've been to bed with."

"Well then," I said, slipping my hands around his neck. "I'm on the pill, have been for years in fact, for a medical condition I have, and I think I'd very much like my first-time making love to you without the condom..."

"Christ... Jai..." he blurted out. I ignored his blasphemy that time.

We hugged each other in the most splendid warmth under my great duvet, enjoying the other's closeness, and the expectation became almost too much. I settled back to wait for what was to come next. Still kissing and caressing, he settled over me and I felt the hardness of him at my groin.

Still trembling slightly, I felt him move his prick closer, to me and without even thinking about it, raised my thighs slightly.

In moments, and with a nudge from him, I felt him enter me, then slide up and into me.

"Oooooooh, fuck yeah!" I gasped as my insides came alive like they never had before, "Oh, Russ," I hissed at him, my face wreathed in very happy smiles. "That feels wonderful."

"I'm not going to argue with you, Jai," I felt him start to move up and down and the burn in my loins started to increase. I'd been thinking about this moment since I first started to consider making love with someone a real option; since our wonderful dinner a week before, Russ had been in my thoughts and in several of my dreams.

Cheryl's words came back to me again.

"Oh, it's amazing, Babes," she'd said. "Having your bloke up and inside you, feeling all of him with all of you, there's nothing like it." At that point she'd hugged herself. "Just you enjoy every minute of him."

I did, lifting my legs up higher to clasp him with them, which meant he could get further inside me and I cried out an 'oh yeah,' just so he knew it was good. Inspired by my outburst he sped up a bit, and boooooooooy, it was good.

"Russ... Oh Russ, Ooooooh yeah, Ruuussss!" I screeched as I came, and in a perfect moment Russ came as well, and I felt him swell and thrust into me just like I'd read about in the sexy romance books Cheryl had hidden in her wardrobe and had lent me.

After a quick run to the bathroom and a glass of water, I curled up next to him and slept the sweetest sleep ever.

I woke to the sounds of Oxford waking up, as well; it was like many other Oxford mornings, but this time I was in bed with a gorgeous man who was waking up at the same time as me.

I rolled towards him and we kissed, no worries about morning breath and our bare skin pushing together in a wonderful feeling.

I reached down for his penis, which hardened up as soon as I wrapped my fingers around it for a second time. He kissed me again, gently pushing my shoulders back flat onto the bed and rolling over me.

"Oh yeah, please do, Russ," I hissed.

"Always aim to please, Jai." He pushed up onto his arms taking the opportunity to look down under the duvet and take in my nakedness. "You are so hot!" he growled, and with a bit of a snarl kissed my face, down my cheeks to my neck.

I reached down and took his erection, pushing it towards my flushing pussy.

"Come on, Russ," I said. "I'm just starting to get into the sex thing, and so far, you're doing brilliantly." I grinned a cheeky grin to him.

"I've still got plenty of time to let you down, Jai," he said sliding up inside me again.

Oh, fuck yeah.

While his missionary love-making the night before had been the most amazing thing I'd ever known, that morning he asked me if I would like to get on my hands and knees.

Wow!

It was incredible, and I felt amazing and from that point I GOT what the Cheryl and the girls had talked about 'SEXY'.

I'd done my first Ann Summers at eighteen and rocked it. I'd used a vibrator on myself since then, but now—now I KNEW what 'sexy' was about and I lay flat on my bed, dazed and stunned while the man that had made the most incredible love to me was bouncing around my flat like a spring chicken, shouting across to me to confirm what cupboards held what as me made tea and toast with his landlady's jam.

He asked about my family and I groaned; I crunched at the toast that Russ had made me and pondered. The maternal side were lovely, and my grandma was the one who had given me that book that was on my shelf that got me into ancient history.

Then there was my dad.

Like my grandfather, he was constantly pissed off about something—at me about something, no he was pissed at everyone, but me mostly.

"Tell me about him," said Russ.

"What, my dad?"

"Yeah," he said sipping from his tea. "His education, his parents, what is it about him that makes him such a dick?"

I'd been thinking ill of my father for a few years now, more so since Christmas and our chance to make it up, but I'd never actually called him names in head.

The vicar I'd spent the night with and had made quite exquisite love to me, had actually framed the word I would have used if I'd vocalised my anger. Although he didn't seem to actually 'like me,' he was still my dad and I loved him—in my own way at least—and while I would never have called him anything that began with an 'F' or a 'C,' he had actually been a bit of a dick, no two ways about it.

"Well..." I thought back to my childhood and Dad's stories of his life, and told Russ.

My paternal grandparents where 'posh,' or at least wanted to give that impression. My Grandfather (never Grandad, Grandpa or God forbid, 'Gramps') had been from our hometown, never made much of a splash educationally, struggled to find a career that suited him, and, in the end, enlisted in the army from school.

Because he wanted some transferable skills, he joined one of the support regiments to do with transport and supply. To listen to both him and my dad, he'd been the single most important soldier in the British Army, and while he hadn't fought anywhere, he'd travelled the world quite extensively, taking his young family with him keeping the wheels turning and the supplies arriving—according to him. I'm not saying he wasn't important, but the way that he explains it, it was all pretty much down to him, not the other many thousands of soldiers.

His military career was safe and relatively quiet until someone decided to make him an officer—my lovely Uncle Frank who told me the real story said that his dad must have 'had something on someone.' that or it was just to get his pension up a bit, but he became just the worst kind of snob.

The man whose career stalled at staff sergeant, who always wore his regimental tie, still did, in fact, had the most appalling affected posh accent that my dad had copied. I grew up with it, but could rarely listen to my grandfather in company because he tried away too hard, and sometimes I wanted to laugh at his mispronunciation.

Although not on a splendid wage, he went out and bought a more expensive car that he could park in the Officers Mess car park, insisted that my 'Grandmother' changed where she shopped at and became quite appalling.

Grandfather, a lifelong Liberal like HIS father, became a Conservative overnight, extolling the virtues of that party and loudly proclaiming their political dogma over what he'd stated before.

My dad, and then a few years later his younger brother, my uncle (the person that told me all about the changes), were taken out of their military primary school in Germany and sent to a private school in the UK.

Dad always said how he 'loved the school and that it made a man of him,' and settled quite quickly, but soon came to the attention of some of the senior boys there.

Predominantly filled with sons of army officers, it was quickly announced that the Connor boys' father was a 'damned ranker,' and not only that, a bloody blanket stacker, and he became the centre of what he considered character building banter, but I read as straight-out schoolboy bullying.

He talked fondly of his nick-name, which Uncle Frank later confirmed was an insult—'Chippy;" the derivation being that his father wasn't from one of the better battalions, he was from a Corps, a 'bloody Fish and Chip Shop' regiment.

He was insulted, beaten up, had his belongings stolen and damaged, his meal trays knocked out of his hands—borderline child abuse but from other children, and with an unspoken sanction. It was always out of sight of any masters, but not the prefects, and complaints and tears were not an option.

Dad always insisted it made a man of him, while my uncle Frank was younger and started there two years later, and was much less impressed with all things military or the strictures of rank and seniority. When it was his turn for the ritualised abuse, he used his 'scummy little pleb from the sergeant's quarters' persona to his advantage, came out fighting and gave much, much better than he got, initially verbal, then physical, even when it was three to one.

Eventually reported by his housemaster for fighting, but really because he refused to get his hair cut or call a prefect (a boy a mere four years his senior), 'sir,' my grandfather gave him a telling off, BUT Uncle Frank did suggest he felt some grudging respect from 'The Ol' Man' for not only standing up for himself in the obvious attack, but knocking out cold the first of the three boys much bigger and older who had cornered him in the gym 'to get him into the school spirit,' then putting the second into the infirmary with severely bruised testicles, while the third escaped with a black eye for his troubles.

Even my grandfather asked what was happening to the other three boys, after all, it was very unlikely that twelve-year-old Connor Junior would have attacked three sixteen-year-old junior prefects—in a gym.

The housemaster smiled and said that the three older boys were being widely discussed, and part of that discussion was that Frank had walked out of the gym unscathed while they absolutely hadn't. Only one of them could walk in fact.

He felt that was quite a sufficient punishment in itself, and far worse than the school could do formally. They would keep an eye on things, though.

Frank still insists that it said more about that school than any of the lists of 'old boys' and the battles they had fought in since Balaklava.

"That makes perfect sense," Russ said, rolling closer to me.

"Explain."

"How old was he when he was taken away from his parents, from your grandma?"

"I think he just into secondary school, twelvish?"

He sat up to munch a large bite out of the slice of toast I was eating, I giggled and let him, the duvet I was holding across my big boobs fell and he looked impressed, but continued,

"So, at the point when most of us need the support of Mum and Dad to go through the hell that is puberty and life-changing qualifications, he gets dragged away from a loving family and his friends, and sent to an educational prison in another country where he knows no one. He's living in fear of violence and ridicule from people who hate him for what he represents. All better feelings are looked upon as weakness, and you're loyal to your 'type,' rather than society." He picked up his mug of tea and sipped. "Poor bastard."

Suddenly there it was; yeah, my dad was an arsehole sometimes but he'd been raised to follow his father into the armed forces; but his asthmatic pigeon chest and short-sightedness had meant he'd never worn a uniform after the school cadet force, where, according to Uncle Frank, he'd only made corporal because the masters felt sorry for him and because he tried so hard. Uncle Frank wore his cadet uniform only until the end of his second year, from which point it was optional.

This didn't go down well with nearly all his classmates in his third year. Unaware of his fighting spirit shown in his first year and the injuries he'd handed out, one of his new upper-school house prefects had called upon the rest of the house to hold Uncle Frank down while HE cut his hair. The first to grab him was launched through to air, and only saved from damage by the bed he happened to land on.

"Whatever you do to me," Uncle Frank said, stretching up to his full, and now quite considerable, height, "I'll do back to you and then some." It was enough of a threat to scare off all but a couple who it turned out were not so keen to take individual action, once another boy whispered to his neighbour what 'that other Connor boy' had done in the first year of lower school to 'those three prefects'.

Connor Junior's best friend at his primary school in Germany was the son of an airborne military policeman who taught aikido in the evenings to groups of kids living in the quarters, occasionally veering off into the sort of self-defence MPs used with drunken squaddies, Uncle Frank never mentioned that, of course

Safer from attack than his older brother, Frank's simple woolly hat pulled down over his ears in those cold dormitories was enough warning, in case someone tried it to cut his hair in the night as he slept.

That was why my dad had been such a dick; why had I never thought about it like that? Because he'd never admit it and would still be a dick afterwards.

Russ smiled, nodded and finished the last of my toast. We got up and took turns in the shower, both happy to see the other naked and looking good.

I made more tea and after watching a DVD, we dressed and headed out again for dinner, settling for a pub burger and chips, and we returned to my rooms both reenergized.

That night be made love again, it was even better than the night before and that morning, and we experimented again, with me riding him cowgirl and him playing with my boobs again and then my clit—it was amazing!

The next morning was another slow one with us falling on each other one last time. There was definitely a real feeling of lust between us, and while we'd been so close and so passionate before, that morning we were fucking, no two ways about that. We both played around with each other, learning what we both liked, and I even went down on him as he had on me on our first night, not all the way, of course. Russ rolled out from under me to take me from behind again.