Church Girl 1

All characters in this story are over the age of 18

At the conservative church in which I grew up, Pastor Johnston, the head pastor, made it clear that premarital sex or any sex outside of marriage would put me on the path to Hell. The youth pastor, Pastor Will, always trying to be the cool one ("you can call me Will"), did his best to not alienate the teenagers. He didn't talk about going to Hell but instead told our girl's group that our virginity was a gift from God that we would be able to bestow upon our future husbands.

My mom admitted to me one day that she had not been a virgin on her wedding day but emphasized that she had never had sex with anyone other than my dad. (Yes, waaaaay too much information). She was more realistic about things than our church leaders and said that she knew I might also have sex before I got married. She told me that she hoped that I would wait as long as possible and that it would be with someone I loved. She ended that uncomfortable chat by saying that I should at least find someone who would respect me for myself and not just for my body.

Our church was conservative about sex and some other stuff but otherwise didn't push the idea that girls should only be wives and mothers. We were urged to work hard in school and to go to college. When I was admitted to the state university, a couple of hours from home, Pastor Will made sure that I knew about the student center that our denomination sponsored there. It was located just off of the campus and he put me in touch with Gayle and Tim the married couple pastors who ran it. Besides normal church stuff--Sunday services and Wednesday night bible study--they had programs aimed at college students--a study lounge, tutoring, and group activities.

So, of course, I joined. It gave me some continuity as I became a college student and I found a group--boys and girls both--with similar upbringings and similar values. That helped me to make friends easily and to settle into my new life.

High school hadn't been extremely hard but I found that I had to study harder to maintain my grades in college classes. Living in the dorm and participating in study groups put me in contact with a more diverse group of students than I might have found otherwise. I made some friends there too and participated in non-church activities that were more typical of college students.

Yes, I went to parties, drank, and even tried smoking weed. The lessons I grew up with stayed with me though and, although I dated some guys, when I finally made out with a couple of them, I kept their hands above my waist which was probably why they moved on. It wasn't Pastor Johnston's highway to Hell sermon or the Pastor Will's gift from God talk that kept me a virgin. It was more my mom's advice about finding someone who would respect me. I liked the guys I dated but I didn't see myself with them forever and got the impression that they liked touching my boobs more than they liked me.

That realization brought me an increased commitment to the church group. I had cut back to Sundays but now I decided to jump back in with both feet. I started to attend the group's social events which led to going to parties with members and to new, more compatible friends.

And, maybe not a surprise, I met a guy. Jeff was a year ahead of me in school but we had a lot in common. We had both grown up in families who were active in the church and the church had had a major impact on us growing up. We were both surprised that, like a lot--maybe all--teenagers, we couldn't wait to get away from it but we now found that it was our home. We found that the lessons we had been taught had been integrated into our value bases and that this was now our comfort zone.

We told stories about our pastors and found that we had gotten some of the same speeches. Evidently Pastor Will's talk to the girls about virginity had been given to the boy's as well although from Jeff's description, I'm not sure that the boys had bought into it the same way.

By now, we were getting together for study dates a couple of times a week. Along with church group activities and at least one dinner or movie date each week, we saw each other almost every night and after a couple of weeks, most of those ended with a quick good night kiss. But that was it. Jeff didn't push for more and I was okay with that too.

The first time that Jeff really kissed me, we were sitting together on his sofa and from how he was looking at me, I got the impression that something more was going to happen. I was also ready so when he placed his hands on my waist, I leaned in toward him too. As our lips met, I put my hands on his shoulders, prepared however to move them down over his hands quickly if needed to stop him from going all octopus on me. I needn't have worried as he didn't make a move toward my chest or anywhere else.

After our first kiss, we continued that way for a couple of weeks. I was ready to let him do more and I assumed that he was too. But other than occasionally touching my face or over my back, his hands never moved off the side of my waist. I wasn't sure if this was a sign of respect like my mom had spoken of, his shyness, or what. I finally figured out a way to give him a hint that he could touch me without me coming across as "one of those girls" who we had shamed in high school.

Next time, I interrupted our make out session and told Jeff that we needed to talk for a minute. I reminded him of our conversation about the virginity talks we had both heard and that I fully planned to hold onto mine. I think that I shocked him since I'm not sure if he thought that sleeping with me was even been a realistic fantasy. He hadn't tried to talk me into bed. I mean, he hadn't come close to trying to feel me up.

I cut off his denials that he was trying to do anything. I told him flat out that we weren't going to have sex and that he needed to keep his hands above my waist. I don't know what else I could have done other than pick up his hand and put it there but I think he got the hint.

So, we returned to kissing but his left hand finally left its base position on my side and moved upward. When he got to the lower edge of my bra, it was like he hit an electric fence and he yanked it back to my side. Finally though, he moved up again, placed his hand on my left breast and cupped it. I don't know if he could feel my nipple but it had gotten erect and I felt it pressing against the material of my bra.

* * * * *

It was a weekend about a month later and was our date night. We packed a picnic dinner and drove to our local park. As a committed virgin, while I was getting dressed, I thought of other words--none of them nice--to apply to myself as I got ready. I purposely picked a top that would leave me with some options. I assumed that Jeff and I would kiss and that he would touch my boobs over my top. But the one I chose was loose enough that his hand could easily fit under it too. If he tried and if I let him, that is. If I had to bet, I think the odds were better of me letting him than of him trying without me giving him another big hint.

I was wrong.

We found a private spot to lay out our blanket and we spoke about a range of things as we ate. Afterwards, Jeff took our garbage to a bin while I put the containers back in the picnic bag. Then we lay down next to each other on the blanket. He put one hand behind me and I put mine on the back of his neck and we kissed.

As we made out, I felt a heaviness growing down there. I had been warned many times of how one thing could lead to another and how I needed to know when to stop so I didn't get carried away. But I loved kissing Jeff and I was confident that he wouldn't push me too far so I pulled him in further to deepen our kiss, pretty sure that his hands would stay above my waist.

It didn't take long before I felt his hand moving toward my boobs. Fortunately, Jeff didn't squeeze them like some guys had done before but I wondered how I could teach him that they wouldn't break either. His hand took a break and ran up and down my side before cupping them again. My nipples were erect and I really wanted him to touch them but his hand left my breast again, sliding back down toward my hips.

Our lips continued their action and it took me a second to realize that Jeff's hand was fingering the hem of my top. One finger went under it and he ran back and forth across my belly touching my bare skin. He broke our kiss and looked at me either waiting for me to say no or perhaps asking permission.

I chose to interpret it as the second so I looked into his eyes and nodded. He didn't give me a chance to change my mind and plunged his hand beneath the cloth and reached for my boobs. This time, as he touched them, it was right over the material of my bra. I had also picked a thin bra--all I needed--so I'm pretty sure he could find my nipples pushing against it.

When I chose what to wear tonight, this was exactly what I had pictured--us kissing and him touching me under my top but over my bra. I had no intent to let him go any further and once again, he didn't push me for anything more. When Jeff's finger circled my nipples over my bra, I wondered if he made the connection between his touching and them poking back toward him.

I don't think he was aware though of how his touching made my arousal jump higher. I enjoyed that feeling but finally, it was too much and I forced myself back to Earth. I put my hand under my top, over his hand. I held it there briefly and then pulled it away from my boob. I demurely pulled my top down, kissed him, and, still holding onto him, pulled away.

Jeff gave me a joking pout but then he smiled. Maybe he was frustrated but maybe relieved too. We lay there together with our arms over each other's waists and finally got up to fold the blanket and carry the bag to the car. My nipples had retreated. I confess that I looked to see if he had an erection but if he did, it wasn't noticeable. We got into the car but instead of starting it, Jeff sat there quietly for a moment. Finally, he asked if I was doing okay. "Are you mad at me? You said, 'above the waist' but I'm not sure if that was okay with you."

I assured him that I wasn't mad and that we were good. "You were above my waist and it was better than okay." I promised I'd let him know if he was going too far and I asked for his assurance that he would stop if I told him too. He emphatically promised this and then drove me back to campus.

Among our church friends, Jeff and I were now known as a couple. Separately and informally, our pastors spoke to us about relationships generally, how most college relationships don't last but some did. Without getting graphic, they reminded each of us to remember the values that we had been taught. I don't know what Jeff said to Pastor Tim but I told Pastor Gayle that I was a virgin and planned to stay that way, at least for now. I didn't ask for any pastoral guidance on our make out sessions and, being both experienced at working with college age students and realistic, she didn't offer any other than to say we were always welcome to talk to her and Tim, together or separately.

A couple of weeks later, his housemate had to go home for a few days so Jeff was alone in the house. He offered to make dinner and I went over. We ate, watched a movie, and then started kissing. He had made the last move, reaching under my top but hadn't tried anything else. As we kissed, his hands moved all over although he carefully stayed above the waistline of my jeans. I had gotten braver about touching him too and, having found out that boys' nipples could be sensitive too, I rubbed them as we kissed which he seemed to like.

To tease Jeff, I had tucked my t-shirt into my jeans which restricted where he could reach. His fingers ran around the top of the waist of my jeans but he couldn't reach under my top without pulling it out and he wasn't sure if that was okay so he didn't. He didn't know that I had decided that I wanted to move our making out up another level.

Here goes. I broke our kiss and sat back from him at arms' length. I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss and pulled back again. I repeated that two more times then, sitting back, I reached down, crossed my arms over and pulled my top up. It went over my chest, then at my neckline, I pulled my arms through the sleeves and pulled it over my head. Sitting there in my bra, I leaned back in and kissed him. He quickly got over his surprise and placed his hands over my bra while he kissed me back.

Perhaps it wasn't smart of me but I hadn't given any thought to what might came next. Jeff could, of course, see my bra and he had better access if he chose to touch my cleavage that was visible at the top of the bra. I was okay with both of those.

But I now wondered if he would think that me pulling off my top was permission for him to take off my bra. I wasn't sure if I was okay with that. For a second, I thought about just taking it off myself and getting it over with but I decided that I wasn't ready to do that yet either.

All of these images went through my mind as we sat there kissing. Jeff did get brave. Besides touching me over my bra, he ran his fingers around the edge of the bra straps and then the cups and touched the tops of my boobs themselves at the top of the bra. The whole experience, but especially that, started to push my arousal level high and, feeling some wetness down there, I knew that I needed to stop. I pushed Jeff away and held his hands for a while, kissing them as my breathing slowed down. We cuddled for a while and then I kissed him and he played with my bra again. That worked until I started to not trust myself to keep going so I stopped him again. We held each other and did some quick kissing. Finally, I stood up, pulled my top back on, and went home.

At some point in my upbringing, someone--probably Pastor Road To Hell Johnston had said that masturbation was wrong. I ignored that lesson when I got back to my dorm.

Confession time. Not only was I a sex virgin but I was also a bare breast virgin. Since I started college, I had been felt up by several guys both over and under my top and--I'm not going to tell Jeff this--he wasn't the first guy to see me without my top. However, no guy has ever seen me without a bra or touched me there naked. I knew that breast virginity wasn't exactly a big deal compared to the real one but it was still there.

With a lot of thought and acknowledging my growing feelings for Jeff, I accepted that if he took off my bra, it would be okay with me. He had been touching my boobs regularly, first through my top, then under my top, and now directly on my bra and around it. I loved how that felt so how big a deal would it be for him to touch them directly? Was this another step on the highway to Hell? His fingers on my cleavage was nice and (here comes those names I called myself again), I had even bought a plunge bra that let him reach more skin.

Obviously, Jeff liked touching the parts of my boobs that he could reach. A few times, his fingers poked into the cup at the top and I hadn't stopped him so he figured that was okay. He knew my nipples were erect as we made out and I think he had figured out without me telling him that I liked him playing with them through my bra. I don't think he knew how much I fantasized about him touching and kissing them directly.

If he had known this, what happened next might have happened earlier. We were on his sofa kissing and being grateful for his housemate's travels. My t-shirt was long gone and I had also removed Jeff's shirt when he took off mine so, as we kissed, we had more skin-on-skin contact. Jeff's hands were all over and I was breathing heavily. His hands slid up and down my waist, fingered the shoulder and back straps of the bra, probed the edges of the cups, and, my favorite, circled my nipples.

Still kissing me, Jeff wrapped his arms around my back pulling me in even closer as he fingered the back straps of my bra. Not for the first time, his fingers went under the back strap, pulling it out but this time, I felt the two sides pulled together as he stretched the elastic and unlatched the hooks. His hands dropped the sides of the bra strap and ran up and down my now naked back.

Although they weren't being held on by the back strap, the bra cups still covered me, held on by the press of our bodies against each other. Another decision point--I pulled myself away, slid the straps from my shoulders, and let the cups fall from my breasts. As the bra fell away, I tossed it over to where my top was lying on the sofa.

I put my hands on Jeff's shoulders, holding him back and giving him full access to my naked chest. He matched me, putting his hands on my shoulders, and staring at my body. His fingers slid down over the top of my chest and then down to my boobs. He touched gently at the top, an area that he had touched before, and then continued slowly to my areole and finally, for the first time, to my uncovered nipples.

Jeff cupped my boobs but continued to finger my nipples and I felt a distinct wetness forming down there, joining my erect nipples, my heavy breathing, and the heaviness in my midsection as signs that I was approaching a dangerous level of arousal. I knew that I should stop but I didn't want to and I didn't want to signal Jeff that he had pushed me too far. So, I leaned in and kissed him as he massaged my mounds, fingering my nipples.

A picture from my fantasy of him kissing my nipples popped into my head. Jeff apparently read my mind. He stopped kissing my lips and moved his mouth to my chest where he kissed first the tops, then around my nipples. Finally, he placed his lips over my right nipple, kissing it, then sucking on it, then gently biting it. I heard myself let out a moan and my hands went behind his head holding him there, then guiding him to my left breast where he repeated his steps.

After a while, I couldn't take it anymore and I had to pull away. He also pulled back but kept his hands on my breasts. The look on his face went from happiness to pride, to concern. I kissed him some more and assured him that I loved what he was doing. Eventually, my arousal was really too much. I skewed my body around and cuddled up against him and we held onto each other without talking. With great difficulty, I finally forced myself to get up to go home. I shoved my bra into my purse and pulled on my top, feeling my nipples against the cloth. Jeff and I stood kissing for a while before I went out feeling elated and frustrated. I loved the feeling of his lips on my nipples and didn't want to stop. But I was scared of not stopping.

We hadn't used the word "love" yet but I admitted to myself, that for the first time in my life, this was how I felt. My body was telling me that I wanted to do more but my mind and my upbringing told me to stop. My confusion told me that it was time to speak with Pastor Gayle and to get the pastoral counselling that she had offered.

* * * * *

Gayle always told us that her door was open so I wandered over after classes and she welcomed me into her office. She and Pastor Tim had separate offices with a door joining them. She closed the door for privacy and waved me to an informal discussion area with a couch and chairs. I sat on the couch and she sat across from me on a chair.

She probably knew that I had come in for a serious conversation but she started on easy stuff, asking me about classes and dorm life. Then, she paused and asked "Jeff?" I nodded, still not sure how I wanted to ask her what was on my mind.

"You and I spoke once about college relationships and how they usually don't last forever. But I saw the two of you together on Sunday and I didn't see anything that looked like a problem."