Cindy said good-night to her parents and ran down the walkway to my car. We were going out for a hamburger then up to East Rock to make out.
"Change in plans," she announced. "I just agreed to go to Mass with my folks tomorrow. You have to drive me to the church right now and wait while I go to Confession. After that you can't lay a finger on me -- kiss me -- or
anything
or I won't be able to receive Communion."
"And my parents will know why!"
I had never had a Catholic girlfriend before Cindy. We argued endlessly over religion. When I had her boxed into a corner she would trump my arguments with "You just need Faith." Which I didn't have.
This didn't prevent us for exploring the joys of puppy-love at least every Saturday night. Making out for hours in the car. Untucking her blouse, unbuttoning her bra and caressing her breasts. Running my hands up between her thighs under her skirt, then -- delighted that she didn't resist -- up against her panties. Noticing that her panties were wet. Putting my hand inside the panties and exploring the wonders within. Finger-fucking for ages. Dropping her off at the dorm before curfew and relieving my blue-balls by stroking the earnest cock that had valiantly stood erect through the evening's protracted action.
This went on for months until last weekend when, as the action got into high gear, I finally had the nerve to take her hand and place it on the stiff bulge in my pants.
Cindy whispered, "I don't know what to do," I said to just press and stroke. "But I want to see it and touch it; I've wanted to do this for weeks."
So fast forward to my first hand job. Amateurish but enthusiastically performed and quickly effective. Spurts of semen all over Cindy's hand and my lap. My pants were so wet I couldn't walk her to the dorm door but fell asleep as soon as I got back to my dorm with no need to relieve any pent-up pressures.
Obviously the idea of taking Cindy to Confession scotched my plans for a repeat of our last date. I had spent the week planning to teach Cindy the fine points of manual technique that I had mastered through diligent daily practice since age 12. I had wondered how many lessons she could complete in one evening and had stocked the car with Kleenex and a hand cream dispenser in anticipation.
Cindy was equally disappointed but came up with a brilliant suggestion. "Let's go up East Rock now, and go to Church and supper afterwards. But we need to hurry because Confession is over at nine."
We sped up to the parking area where two surprises were in store. Rather than finger-fucking and teaching Cindy some manual techniques, as soon as I reached into her panties she took my hand and introduced me to her clitoris. And when I pressed her hand into my lap, expecting a quick hand-job, Cindy treated me to a different, stunningly ecstatic experience.
But time was flying and we hurried to the church.
"I'll be out in a few minutes," said Cindy as she headed into the Church.
Well it was a very long "few minutes." Cindy finally came out. "Hurry to the restaurant; I need to go to the ladies room."
"Don't they have one in the Church?"