13 comments/ 69754 views/ 24 favorites Loving The Girl In Pink By: javawarrior There's not much left to say when the girl sitting across from you declines a glass of the finest wine because it would be un-Christian. The matter of two souls in this vast expanding universe possibly finding each other like sparrows in a hurricane – it all comes to a screeching halt. For me, anyway. It's not the wine, though. Some girls don't eat meat, some do. Of course, I prefer the ones who do, but it's no skin off my back if she can't eat the seasoned, cooked flesh off of the bones of a dead animal. Yet it is not these things that tell me this meeting is doomed. She's still smiling at something I said three minutes ago, but she has no idea that I have already reached a conclusion about our meeting. I look at her as a writer looks at a blank page which yearns to be filled. I don't know if I'm about to write a short story, or the next great American novel. Both would satisfy me in different ways, and I would feel great for having finished either. But she is not interested in short stories at all. She looks at me like a potential mate for life, and looks me up and down discreetly, judging me silently while nibbling on her toast. She is interested only in picking another lobster with whom to crawl across an ocean floor for eternity. We will continue to sit in judgment of each other until at last we decide if we are leaving on the same ship for a journey that can only be made once in a lifetime. But should we come to another fork in the road and discover that our paths do, in fact, diverge, why shouldn't we be able to look upon our time together with pride? Would you rather cast aside with disappointment and despair each seashell that is empty until you find the one that's not? To go from relationship to relationship and see only failure at the end of each one... is it any way to live? And where is this guarantee that the one that pleases you will in fact fill you completely till the end of your days? Perhaps I'm over-thinking it. She becomes quieter throughout the evening as she senses my growing detachment. Perhaps she has come to the same conclusion for opposite reasons. At last, she asks, "Is it because I'm a Christian?" She's smarter than I thought. "No," I say. "Then why can't you look me in the eyes? Am I not attractive?" "I don't think we're right for each other. That's all. You're very sweet, but you want something else that I can't offer." "You mean commitment?" "I don't mind relationships, but not long term ones." "You mean marriage? You think I want to marry you?" "Eventually you will." "How would you know if I will want to marry you?" "It's not about will you or won't you. If you won't want to marry me, you won't want anything. I respect that, but it's not my bag." She shifted in her seat and her eyes darted about anxiously, as if she was looking for something to say to keep things going, but had nothing to say. I watched her as she let it all sink in, and at this point – far past any care for the purpose of the date itself – I was just curious to see how she would respond. Could she? I've already made my position and moved on, and I'm just waiting for the check at this point. Still, I don't want this to be a wasted evening. "So what is it? Is it sex?" I did not expect her to go there, and I couldn't tell if she was just angry with me for being so apparently shallow, or if she genuinely wanted to know. I humored her with my honesty, and found my honesty to be a key ingredient in what turned out to be a very interesting experiment. "Yes. I mean, it's not first on my list, but I think it's important." "If it's so important, why don't you save it for the right person?" "I do. I just don't marry them, and there are many more than just one right person." "But that makes every girl you sleep with worth less." "Says you!" Now she's gonna get it. "You haven't slept with the girls I have, so how would you know? I've known them better than they knew themselves, and I'm a better man for having known them. If I should want to know you in an intimate way, I might be a better man for having done so. You would be a better woman, too. Don't act like sex is some icing on the cake and then turn around and call it important." She had no idea what to think about sex, and she knew it. She had an idea based on a vague understanding of some religious ideology, but did she really know what it meant to know a person through and through? Could she bring herself to know someone in this way and accept that he needn't be the only one? "You really don't think you can know someone without it?" She asked. "Absolutely not," I answered. "So... what kinds of things do you learn about someone that you... have sex with?" The question was very interesting, and I'd never had to answer it before. And from her! I saw her in my mind's eye turning her chin up to the subject, clinging confidently to her beliefs and changing the subject. The Amy that I knew would have accepted my position and regarded me from here on out as nothing more than a 'sinner' in need of saving. She would continue her line of questioning, but not as one who was interested in learning. But she did not do this. She twirled her unfinished pasta, waiting for my answer. Her eyes were narrow and curious, but still a bit judgmental. "Well, you learn how much she really loves herself, and how confident she is. You might learn that she's not so shy or passive, or you might find that she appears dominant to everyone who knows her but is in fact very insecure. When you learn these things about someone during sex, you both realize that there is no need for walls or barriers. It's just pure love. Sometimes sex can be very therapeutic, and two people can learn and grow by working through the psychological and emotional pain with the love of another. It's not always roses, but that's mostly been my experience." I could see the wires short-circuiting in her brain. She was deeply troubled by what I was saying, and her eyes began to water despite her efforts to maintain composure. I decided not to press, so I waited for her to speak. I began to think of this meeting as fruitful after all, because I could tell that wherever this conversation went from here, I felt closer to her already. We were still miles apart ideologically, but she was actually opening up. "I don't know what to say." These were the most truthful words she had spoken up to that point, by far. She dropped her fork to the plate with a clink and rubbed her eyes. She made less of an effort to hold back her sobs, but was not a total mess. "I know you're right..." she began. "I just... I want to believe that love can last, you know? I mean, why is it so hard to find it? Why does sex have to be first? Can't you just know? And how can I... it can't be like that..." She wasn't making much sense, but I could feel her. I sort of felt bad that I was causing her to break down like this, so I tried to comfort her. "Well, you could still find him. Don't lose hope." She dismissed this and became sour. It was not what she wanted to hear. "So how soon before you want it? Sex, I mean. A day? Two days? A week?" She had moved from denial to anger. "I don't know, it depends." "On what?" "On lots of things. What kind of person she is, how open she is... I don't know. I guess it depends mostly how close we feel." "How many girls have you had sex with?" "How many do you think?" I was really eager to know the answer to this. "I don't know. 20? 30?" "Six." Her jaw dropped. She had me pegged for a playboy, but she had a lot to learn. "And were you... satisfied with them?" "All but one," I answered truthfully. "What happened?" "I thought she wanted what I wanted – to know me intimately – but she only wanted to use me. For sex." Her eyes softened in sympathy. "What happened?" She had turned the tables on me, but I decided to continue with my honesty and see where it went. "We worked together at a movie theater and we really liked each other. At least, I thought she liked me because of how nice she was to me and how strongly she put herself out there for me. We never went out on a date or anything, but one night she came into the theater while I was off and watching a movie. There weren't very many people in the theater, so we had sex there in the seats. At first I thought it was very exciting – like a dream come true – but it didn't feel like that for long. When it was over, she got up and walked away without saying anything. I felt pretty bad about the whole thing – just didn't feel good at all." For the last part of my story, it became difficult to maintain the plutonic delivery of my words. I became too aware of who I was telling this story to and of the personal nature of this vulnerable moment in my life. Afterwards, I could hardly even believe I just told it to her. "What do you say we finish up here and go for a walk? There's a park around the corner." I still didn't quite know where things would go from here, but I knew I wanted to stretch out the evening with her if I could. The park reminded me of how different I expected she was from me. I would see happy couples everywhere and guess how healthy their sex lives are, and all the while a girl like Amy would be drawn to the presence of the kids and the dog, thinking innocently about the family she wants to start. She was no doubt getting a different look at everything tonight. She surely looked at this evening as an experiment as well. After all, our date came about as something of an accident. I hadn't yet met her when I attended her church for the first time. My roommate played keyboard in the praise band, and I promised I would come see him play. Unbeknownst to me, he had a thing for Amy and had been leaving secret admirer messages on her car for months. On the morning of my visit, she caught me looking at her a few times from several pews back and suspected it was me. Imagine my surprise when she began talking to me like a giddy schoolgirl after only having seen me once, and how puzzled I was that a good Christian girl like her would be flirting with an outsider like me. She was a remarkably sharp flirt for a girl who's probably never been to first base. I revealed at last that I was not the secret admirer and she seemed to be more embarrassed than disappointed. I did not tell her that it was my roommate, because he had begun seeing someone and I didn't see the point. On a whim, I asked her to dinner. I regretted it almost as soon as I did so because I knew how it would turn out. But now, as we stroll through the empty park and the cool evening breeze sweeps by us and makes her pink and white dress dance about playfully, I actually found myself attracted to her. I'm usually drawn to the promise of getting to know someone new, and she was new alright. She was like a rare and beautiful flower that I had never even paid attention to before. She was small with light blond hair and soft, milky white skin. When she spoke, her voice was so delicate and sweet that it brought you to your knees. We found a small mound beneath a tree next to the duck pond. The ducks were very few this evening, but I wasn't really thinking about ducks anyway. Her dress only came down to several inches above the knee, and I noticed for the first time that evening as she sat stretched out that she had wonderful legs. She dangled a sandal on the end of one foot and it started to drive me crazy. Maybe she knew this. "You said you used to be a Christian before," she said, finally. "What changed your mind?" "People are capable of good things without labels." "But it's not just a label. It's a choice and a lifestyle." Here we go. "Call it what you want. No book written thousands of years ago is going to determine how I live my life now." "How would you know if you were wrong? I mean, aren't you making up your own morality?" "Aren't you?" She was stunned by this. "What do you mean?" I told her my view that the Bible can be made to justify anything you want, and that it is a poor substitute for the mind's ability to think rationally. I reminded her that even Jesus accused the Pharasees of missing the whole point of the law in the first place: to free you, not to bind you. I explained a lot of things to her, and after about an hour, her arguments no longer involved religion at all. "That just sounds like a convoluted justification for having sex with anyone you want," she said, finally. She didn't sound like she even believed this. "It would sound like that to you. Look at us, you and me. We are young, and tomorrow we may be in love. There is no telling what we may learn from each other, so why go into it with expectations? And as I told you already, I don't have sex with just anyone. Only the ones who want to know me and be known by me." "I still don't see how you can expect me to feel special without being willing to spend the rest of your life with me. I mean, what am I to you? That's all I keep thinking." "That's your call. I don't think you really believe that." She looked at me, confused. I continued: "If you're like every other living, breathing human being on this planet, you want what I'm talking about. You feel it with every ounce of blood in your veins. You're probably feeling it right now, yet you deny yourself." "You're wrong," she said, and stood up to walk over to the pond. I did not get up, I just watched her stop at the pond and stare into its tranquil waters. She turned around when she realized I did not follow her, and she gave me another look of confusion. "What?" I asked. She was starting to act very strange, but then it occurred to me what she was doing. She expected me to protest. "Look," I started, "like I said, I don't think we're after the same thing here. You're a nice girl, but..." "Do you want to kiss me?" I did, badly. "No." "Why not?" "Because it would just be a kiss. I've seen this before, young lady. The girl who wants to string me along knowing what I want but denying me until at last, when she runs her emotional course with me, she tells me it won't work out. No, I won't do that." I figured this would hurt her deeply, and make her feel unloved and undesired. But the thought of taking advantage just left too nasty a taste in my mouth. "So it's make or break with you?" "Yes." A bit sad, she said, "I... I just can't. I'm sorry." "Don't be. You're a smart, wonderful and beautiful girl. You keep looking and you'll find what you want someday." She seemed to appreciate this, but was still noticeably upset. "Come on," I said, "I'll take you home." The walk to the car was an awkward and painful one. So much distance existed between us and it felt palpable, like the strong magnetic bond I had developed for her was being held at bay by the crushing resistance of an iron bar against my chest. Our conversation had led to such personal places that we had already felt connected, and that we would have to end it here was such a grave disappointment. Never had I felt such a strong desire to be intimate with someone as I did with her. She was so unique in that regard because of how high the stakes would have been for her. For me it was special, but for her it was a thing that would have brought me closer than any man has ever been to her. She was a virgin, after all, and for her to let me in like that would have been the most incredible love-making experience of my life. I opened the door for her and she smiled. Her smile proved to me that we could not be friends after this, because she liked me too much. When I got in and started up the car and hit the road back to her place, I set my arm down on the armrest and found her arm there. The happy accident made me instantly hard, and I moved it immediately. I looked over to see her reaction and it was a mix of thanks and regret. She longed for me, I could tell, but she clearly just wanted to get home before she made a mistake. When we got to her place, I decided to leave the car running to indicate my readiness to get out of there. She sat for a moment without looking at me, and then turned. She wanted me to make my move, but what I told her then was still true: I didn't see it working out. "Are we going to see each other again?" she finally asked. "I don't think so." She looked hurt. And every moment that I didn't follow this up with something was a moment she spent fighting her urge to run away while she still could. "Do you want to come in?" "I don't know." I was still unconvinced that she really wanted it, and I was determined not to take advantage of her. But then she did something I didn't expect. She kissed me. Her kiss was a deeply felt one, and I already knew the passion she had for me. Something in our evening together convinced her not to let me go, but I still didn't know if she truly wanted to open up to me all the way. And truth be told, for the first time as I got to play with the dainty little tongue of this sweet Christian girl, I was ready to see just how far she would take it. I might be setting myself up for failure, but her kiss was so sweet and I wanted it too damn badly. She was a smart cookie to kiss me the way she did, because it worked. When we separated and locked eyes, she said, "I don't know if I'm ready to go all the way, but maybe we could...?" "We don't have to, you know. I don't want you to do anything just because you don't want to let me go." "No, I want to. So much of what you've said tonight... I don't know, maybe I'll regret it later, but... I never thought I would feel this close to someone so quickly." At that, I turned the engine off and stepped out to open her door. I took her by the hand and didn't let go until we got to her front door. "This place looks pretty big," I remarked as she looked for her keys. "It's my parents' house. I mean, they don't live here, just me. They're letting me stay here while I go to school." Crosses, Bible verses and little spiritual knick-knacks were all over the place and popped out to me as soon as I entered. She even had a notebook next to her Bible on the coffee table that had the words 'Devotional' on the front. It hardly seemed real that I had made it this far with this girl. The thought that she would be shaming herself in the eyes of her God gave me a bitter feeling as I started to have second thoughts. She had gone to get us each a glass of juice, and when she came back, I leveled with her. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea." "I thought I was the one that was supposed to be nervous here." She was being remarkably up beat. "I just... I don't want to be the reason you did something you'll regret later." If ever she was nervous to be with me, it seemed that line made her more confident than ever. She awww-ed and said, "you really are sweet." She put her drink down and walked to me, wrapped her arms around me and drew my lips her hers once again. This time, I held her back. My hands drifted down to her butt, but she didn't seem to mind. It was enough to wipe all of my doubts from my mind. It was on. She took me upstairs after giving me a brief tour of the house. She still clung to her desire to prolong the fun as much as possible, and I let her. The anticipation was incredible. She told me about her family pictures on the wall, the stuffed animals in her room that she's never gotten rid of since she was a little girl, and finally sat down on the bed next to me. When our conversation was hitting its natural breaking point and our bodies touched at the hip, I took her by the neck and pulled her lips to mine once again. When I placed my hand on her leg she jumped. She seemed frustrated by her own skittishness, and I realized I was going to have to be very gentle. Loving The Girl In Pink "Are you ok?" "Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just..." "No need to explain. Look, how about this: I ask you for permission, and if you want to stop, just say so. I will respect you. I don't want to do anything unless you're comfortable with it, ok?" She nodded appreciatively. I asked my first question: "Can I touch your legs?" She nodded and I went back to kissing her, putting my right hand on the outside of her left leg, just above the knee. I moved it up slowly beneath the lip of her dress and to her hip, then back down the top of her leg, with my thumb tickling her inner thigh. I came up the outside of her leg again but moved to her inner thigh, then switched to her right leg. After playing with her thighs, I kissed her again and pushed her onto her back. "Can I touch your chest?" She smiled and nodded. My hand slid up and over her thin, light dress and over her breasts. They were probably B-cups, perfect for her size. Rubbing them through the dress was very tantalizing, and brought me back to my teenage years when this was actually a huge achievement. My hands returned to rest on her collarbone, and I asked, "Can I take these off?" I felt for the straps and she looked apprehensive. "Just the straps," I added. She finally nodded. I sat up, pulled both of them down and revealed her tits. She was looking at me to say something but I just smiled a warm smile, and she paid me one back. At that, I slid my right hand down to her left breast and caressed it gently. I played with the nipple and she smiled, and I kissed her again. I planted another kiss on her neck, then another, and then made my way to her right breast. I put her soft pink nipple into my mouth, and I sucked on it playfully while I felt her giggling. I put my hand back on her leg and slid it up her inner thigh, but this time she opened her legs to me. I sat up to look at her as I touched her crotch. She was looking at me as her smile instantly turned serious when I touched her there. I stopped, and when she nodded for me to continue, I did so. I rubbed her above her panties, which I could now see were also pink. I was still gentle and I even tickled her a few times. I switched it up with some more caressing of her thigh and teased her with only the slightest of touches. It was making her crazy. Then I put my hand on her belly and slid it part way down into her panties. I looked at her for approval, and when she gave it to me, biting her lip, I slid my hand in and stopped at her warm clit. I stared at her for a moment, taking in the experience of having my hand in the panties of a sweet Christian girl like her who was looking lovingly into my eyes, and then I began rubbing it. She surprised me by putting her own thumb in her mouth and biting it, and it looked adorable. No doubt a tic she developed for moments of anxiety, but it soon became a sensual act that added to the thrill. She was laughing more than I thought she would, and even squealed a bit when I slid two fingers inside her. This was not a girl who would be regretting this later. She was getting into it. Or so it seemed, until I began to pull her panties off of her. She must have compartmentalized everything so far, thinking that it hadn't gotten serious because we still had our clothes on. That changed when the panties came off. She let them come off, but a chill returned to the scene. It was too much, and she sat up, flicked her dress back down and put her straps back on. She seemed to be done – gone as far as she'd go – and she stood up to say something but wasn't looking at me. "Do you want to stop?" I asked. Hearing me say the words must have made her feel silly. "No," she said. I took her hand, and it eased her nerves a bit. I didn't blame her at all. "I've never been touched like that before." She looked quite beside herself, and a bit ashamed for calling an end to something so wonderful. "Sit with me, Amy." She did. I knew what she wanted, so I thought of the best way to say it to her. "Amy, I know this will sound very strange to you because we've only just met, but I feel quite close to you right now. I never thought you would let me get this close to you, and now that you have, I want you to know that... I love you very much. And I want to love you more." Tears welled up in her eyes. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. It never ceases to amaze me how, when you get right down to it, that's all anyone wants to hear. The loneliest soul walks around feeling unloved. But there we were, sitting on this girl's bed, coming to the point we all desperately yearn for. I caressed her back until she fell into my chest and cried some more. "Hey," I told her, forcing her to look at me. "Those better be tears of joy." I smiled and she gave me one hell of a kiss in return. Then she stood up and undressed for me. She slid the straps of her dress to the sides and let her dress fall softly to the floor. She let me look at her up and down and then stepped up to me. Her wavy blond hair fell onto her bosom as she leaned and began to remove my shirt. I stood and let her unbutton my pants and pull my zipper down. After letting my pants fall and kicking them off, I let her slowly pull my boxer-briefs down over my hard shaft until she revealed my cock. Her brief phase of taking control was beginning to falter, as she was once again out of her element. She looked at my penis like she was not sure what to do with it. "Is this the first one you've ever seen?" A part of me thought this was a rude question, but she didn't seem to be offended. "Yeah. I mean, other than pictures in sex ed class." "Well you're doing great, Amy." I don't know why I said this, but she perked right up and got on her knees without thinking. I could hardly believe how naturally drawn to my penis she was, and she seemed to be trying to hide from me her complete awe. I would have thought she was going to worship it right then and there, the way she touched it like a sacred artifact or something and inspected it. Then before I knew it, she put her pert lips up to it and wrapped them around the head. It tickled, more than anything. I didn't expect her to get me off this way, and her technique didn't do anything for me. But still, what kept me rock hard was looking down to see this sweet Christian girl trying to please me in any way she knew how. It took a lot of courage for her to get to this point, and she was impressing the shit out of me. She was really making an effort, and it was paying off more for her than for me. I think she could tell that it wasn't doing much for me, but I told her that it felt great anyway. I didn't want to hurt her feelings. And I was about to show her my appreciation. I asked her to lay down and she did. I kissed her again and then move down and spread her legs, and slid my tongue into her. She jerked slightly, but I steadied her. I did it again and was met with less resistance. It didn't take long to make her wet. Two fingers and a little love from the tongue on her clitoris and she was squirming like crazy. She had her hand on the back of my head when I brought her to a climax, and she tightened her legs around me as she did so. It almost hurt, how strongly she squeezed me with her legs, but I let her experience it her own way, and she gave herself just that. She cried out, with a few tears in her eyes and bedsheets in her clenched fists. And she was crying, "Oh god, oh god," as she came down, like she could hardly believe it was real. It also seemed like she didn't think she deserved it. I just sat up and watched her in her own little world. I wondered what was going through her head, as she lay drenched in her own sweat and comfortably naked. She must have been so far removed from her traditional notions of morality, because she had never felt more alive. I could see it in the glow all around her. It made me happy to see her like this. I thought it was a good moment to steal away to get a condom from my wallet, and when I returned to the bed, I could see she was coming down from her state of euphoria. I took her legs into my hands again and waited for her to look at me. When she did, she noticed me wearing the condom and suddenly put a hand over her vagina and sat up. It soon became apparent that this was just a reflex, though, because she looked into my eyes and must have remembered me telling her that I love her. She trusted me, I could see it in her eyes, and then she removed her hand. She leaned in and kissed me, grabbing my penis as she did. She lay back down and looked up, breathing heavy. I positioned myself over her and waited for her to make eye contact with me again. I was inches from her face when she did, and that's when I entered her for the first time. She was gripping me tightly as I moved into her slowly. I stopped to let her breath, then pulled out again. Despite wincing, she was a good sport. Strong and determined. I entered again, and went all the way in this time. I stopped again and kissed her. She was doing great, and I wanted her to know it. Hers was without a doubt the tightest pussy I had ever been in. I had heard stories of a girl's first time being a rough, painful and bloody experience, and I was prepared for the worst. I found, however, that it was not that bad for her. There was no blood, and I thought that peculiar until I remembered that she was on the Varsity Tennis team in high school, so her hymen was no doubt already broken. And the foreplay must have loosened her up and lubricated her enough that once in, the worst was over. After a few slow and steady thrusts, her pain was almost non-existent. I could only imagine what she was thinking. She must have known all the horror stories, better than me, in fact. She must have known how bad her first time would be, and accepted it long ago. Yet here she was with a man who had some experience, and she was finding it to be a very rewarding experience indeed. Everything about it must have been perfect to her, and she expressed this openly. "I had no idea it was like this," she exclaimed, as I moved in and out of her. "God, it feels so good." She was making me hot every time she said something like this, and it just made me want to give it to her more. I took a break from thrusting to reposition onto my elbows, and I kissed her and said, "God, I love you, Amy. Thank you for this." The last part was silly to say, I know, but she understood and she ran her fingers through my hair and smiled. It just about drove me wild. After that, it was game on. I ramped up slowly, kissing her while I penetrated her deeper. As I picked up speed, I could feel her arms running up and down my body like live wires. Her legs gripped my rear tightly and she grabbed the short hair on the back of my head as my thrusts got longer and deeper. Her sweaty body felt great beneath me, and I felt her soft, wet tits slid up and down my chest with every move of my hips. I kissed her neck and nibbled on her ear and licked it as I felt her gripping my cock inside her as I did. I reached up behind her shoulder with both my arms, still resting on my elbows, and grabbed her hair. We had both naturally entangled our bodies into one another, and separation was nearly impossible for either of us. She was fondling my buttocks and I was kissing her other ear when I felt her reaching her climax. At this point, it was so good that she wasn't able to say anything. But she managed to cry out, "Good God, I can't believe this... Oh, it feels... Oh, with you inside me, it's... Oh God, here it comes!" I didn't see her face when she came, but I had my eyes closed and I was seeing her say all of these words. Tears were now gushing from her eyes as I was about to come with her. I managed to hold it until the precise moment she dug her nails into my back and her body tensed up, and I could feel her pussy clamping down on my cock. If I wasn't ready to come, this last working of her muscles would have done the job anyway. We came together, at precisely the same moment. I let out a groan that put every ounce of my being into my orgasm. I imagined the condom was absent, and I was coming into her with all that I had. At last, I collapsed onto her. I told her I loved her again, with me growing flaccid inside her and not caring. I finally propped myself up and looked at her, and she was positively angelic. Her face was glossy with sweat and tears, and she looked at me like she had just unlocked a secret to the universe. We lay there, intimately entwined and wet. I kissed her once more and felt her crying again. And this time, I knew they were tears of joy.