Sex Tips for Christian Girls #21: Hug More, Grope Less

Last week at church I re-met Bethany. She went by Beth in September when she first came to church. She was new to UBC and checking out churches. Turns out she spent most of the year at one of the churches on campus. Now she’s back here. Had some awkward relationship/friendship weirdness at that church. Some catty chicks. Been there, felt that.

So we caught up a bit after church last week and set a time to go out to see Alice in Wonderland tonight.

Ok, so it’s a crush and that’s ok. When we met at the theatre with like 20 minutes to spare, tix were sold out so we went for a beer. Which in reality was a pitcher of sangria. And we talked for a while and figured on trying again next week for the movie.

So we were heading back to the train to head home, rode the train and at my stop she got off too cuz we were in the middle of a discussion about Johnny Depp. A luscious conversation.

And after a few minutes I was about to go and I gave her a hug.

Hugging is good. Always. I hate shaking hands. Lame. 🙂

And the hug was the kind of hug after the kind of evening where I wanted to turn it into a groping hug and bum squeezing hug and pelvis bumping hug and an invitation to come back to my place so we could play around.

And after all these months and tonight and everything I was not sure she would go for that. And now that I’m all mature and wise and not young and stupid [always, anyway] I just hugged her with the love of a friend and I injected no sexual overtures into it.

I just held her. For the normal length of  a hug. And when I was loosening up at the end of the normal length, she wasn’t letting go, so i re-held on. Just hugging in a motionless holding.

And she just got warmer. Not emotionally [though she was], like physically. Keeping the hold on, waiting for me to do something other than just hold her. And the warmer was the rising tension of something not yet happening.

And if it all ended there, that would have been just fine. A warm, tender, loving friend hug. Felt good.

But she pulled out and smiled at me and kissed my cheek. Spectacular. I felt so loved and desired and hot and wanted and affirmed and and and and…

So I smiled big and putting one hand on her cheek I kissed her other cheek. And while my other hand could quite easily have done nothing, I nevertheless put it on her hip. But mostly back around her hip. Not quite on her ass, not quite on her thigh, but behind her hip enough so I could pull it about an inch closer to me.

And we said goodnight and I left. And heading up the escalator I looked back and she was standing there looking forward to where the train would take her closer to her home. And with her right hand she brushed her hair back from in front of her left shoulder to behind her shoulder, then she slid her hand from her shoulder down along her breast and crossed her arms.

And that, that, that is the thing I want to do to her the next time I see her.

Maybe we can agree to wear skirts to Alice when we actually go to see it. 🙂

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Sex Tip #18: Respect People’s Celibacy Choices

Like the title says. Respect it.

The lesson I learned over the last few weeks creates that truth for me. Holly has helped me through it enough to write about it, appreciating moments of real contact [not just physically], and where I needed to learn where the line is/was. XOXO Holly sweet.

It is marvelous to have Holly back in Vancouver. Hanging out is good. Wreck Beach is just what I need. And the booze and pot and sex and movies and pot luck dinners and picnics with vodka coolers make me know that Holly is a core part of my life for a long time. Amen amen amen.

And now that Holly is going to my/our church quite regularly now we have become a social item. Not a dating item. We aren’t dating [technically, just the benefits].

But people know us. And they know us as a pair.

And Holly likes some of the boys. Not enough to date, but enough to enjoy the view and flirting.

And then there’s Randy. He is new to town, doing his Masters of Divinity and has spent the last several weeks at our evening service. I think he has a training gig lined up for mornings somewhere. Somewhere where no one puts their arms in the air when they feel moved. 🙂

Randy is sweet, has awesome wavy flowing hair, is 29, 1/4 Korean, and not too tall. Not that height is a dealbreaker. 🙂

Holly got to him first one evening after the “show” as she calls it when it’s a bit shlocky. And we went for coffee with him and a few other folks. Coffee meant martinis for a few of us. Slippy in the throat. Yes.

Lotsa talk. Lotsa fun. Phone numbers and last names for Facebook friendship go around.

And the next day I phone him from work and arrange a light dinner for that night.

Open relationships have their benefits. Gordon is a dream, but we both appreciate the fun of variety. I should really go into some of that all in that last several months. But that’s that.

Over the course of 4 times over the next 2 weeks or so before it all crashed to the ground, to put it simply, I tried to get Randy to have sex with me.

I liked him splendidly. He was richly interesting. He had a deep soul.

And he had been, in a previous life, a married furniture assembler with a gambling problem who found a good 12-step program, Jesus and a calling to go into social work and the chaplaincy. Totally respectable. And fascinating.

His marriage ended before his gambling did. Her call. I get that. He had overcome quite a bit, but the broken marriage was the heaviest as it all happened before he knew God and so his frame of dealing with a divorce was after the events. An awkward thing.

And he told me about the times he and his ex met for coffee to work on their shit [“stuff”]. Really endearing.

But he is also a born-again virgin, which i find out on our 3rd date. Which I totally respect. Except I didn’t really. And that’s on me. I’ll accept that.

So when we first went out for dinner, it was casual and fun and we both had a good time. I kissed him goodnight. He was into it. And enjoyed his warmth.

So we plan a post-dinner drink the next night. He had a family thing for dinner.

So I wore a light jumper and cami and no bra. I felt amazing.

Drinks and chatting were nice. I was warm and casual and tipsy and we held hands lots. I knew he was taking in my breasts. BAV, but not dead. I felt good.

We ended the night kissing and hugging. I got in some good glancing nipple rubbing on his chest. Very nice. But the night ended without anything more. I bide time.

Then on the Saturday we walk the seawall a bit. Light, purple skirt past the knee, no panty. Going commando. And the whole braless thing again with a lose scoop T and cami again.

And when we make it around to Lumberman’s Arch we find some nice shady grass aside some bushes and lie down to nibble the baguette and drink some cool beverages.

My goal was to green light him, not for there then, but in general. Such a whore, I know. I’ve come to terms with that.

I arranged myself so that I was lying somewhat under him with his back facing away from the bushes. Under cover of his legs on mine, I slid my skirt up a bit and flowed my hand to my pussy for some comfort. Hoping he’d follow my lead. He did eventually. And he showed slight startle at what he found in there. 🙂 Yay!

He was enjoying the heat and wet and hair and slippy skin. I liked him there greatly!

And after a bit of time there I rolled over onto him. His shorts were not thick. Spreading my skirt up so it was pussy on shorts I/we had a nice time. No bouncing or monster grinding. Just pleasure. Some cleavage leaning. And I spent a good amount of time with my eyes closed, moving my hips oh so gently. Luscious.

And after a time I lied back down to spoon. Felt his cock on my ass. Very nice.

And we walk back and he drives me home and kissing goodbye, I touch his cock and ask him if he’d like me and his friend to get to know each other better. And then he starts telling me about his BAVity. And I feel in part like an ass, but far moreso frustrated. That is me being selfish. I own that too.

And we part well. And I go in and rub off an O.

So the next Friday night we have coffee. And we talk. And do the getting to you know more deeply thing. But the whole time I live a deep sadness that we’re on different pages.

And I know it’s going nowhere because though I like him a lot, I don’t like him enough [or is that even the issue? Holly?] to stay celibate with him.

And towards the end of that night we both start talking about the elephant in the Starbucks. And we just agree that that’s that. Still friends, or is it “friends”.

And as much as I replay it all in my mind, I don’t come up with ways of being different. If he had mentioned BAV before our 3rd date it just would have ended earlier.

Holly says I’m swimming in whore guilt. That he will think I’m the slut I’d be seen as by most in the church. In part true. Mostly something different though.

Mostly sad that his circumstance were/becomes different.

Mourning what would otherwise have been. And it’s sad.

But the lesson is important. To respect people’s choices. Because in the end, you can build nothing casual or serious when one person does not sincerely accept where the other person is.

Dreamily,

Tina

Sex Tip #8: Go to Church Braless

I went to worship service Sunday night. The weather was fine so the day was in the sun.

Holly came with me. She hasn’t been here for years. It was a good service. Lots of worship. Lots of arms waving in the air. Lots of singing. It felt good.

The day was fun, with Holly and a quick drink at tea time at Bimini with Barry. Bad red wine. How is that possible, Bimini, say it isn’t really so. But it was.

But during our day, Holly and I shopped. We don’t like to shop. It’s stressful, but the shopping was a delightful distraction from things amongst us.

And we hit one place on the Drive with some fantastic fabrics and clothes. There was an amazing Guatemalan design. If you know anything from there, you know what I mean. It was a light white cotton strapless halter with lace inset and a “Guatemalan” trim on the top elastic.

Having perfect though small breasts, the halter fit snugly and comfortably. In trying it on, I abandoned my bra. A nice bra, red. It spent the rest of the day in my sack. Then it was texting Barry on the way to Bimini and donairs for dinner.

Yawn. Ok I’m getting to it.

I write this because I didn’t intend to go to worship braless. Truly. But I don’t apologize.

I had a bra, but it so didn’t go with the top. And for the afternoon, even with the subpar red wine, I enjoyed people looking at my top, and my breasts beneath. You couldn’t really “see” anything, but you could make them out well. But that was Bimini when everyone looks at you as if they’re rubbing your ass. Which is fine.

But drinking and eating too late meant it was too tight to whip back home to get a strapless bra and I said ok. Let’s go to church. It’ll be fine.

Sunday night worship on a sunny summer day is no big deal. Not a huge turnout. The church ladies that Holly dreads so much don’t go because overhead projector hymns don’t do it for them.

And the air conditioner is not so great anyway, so THAT problem wasn’t a big worry.

And I like my breasts. As does Barry. And Holly. And Vicky and John. And my husband did too. And others, but I don’t write about them here. 🙂

So we go to church and Holly has a good time, though she takes a while to relax. Understandable after some of the weirdness here for her.

And there’s the singing and the quiet prayer and the talking prayers and such. A moving evening.

And I caught no one gawking at my breasts. Though a few times I found a few eyes looking around for a little too long. And I felt pretty and desirable and not like a whore, even though some Sunday morning women would look at me like I was.

But it is summer, so the argument goes even on days where it’s grimy out. And it was a warm night and we were out and God welcomed me into his presence regardless of whether I was wearing a bra.

And I’m not dating any of the guys or looking to. I’m fine single and doing what I do.

And Christian girls who feel like not wearing a bra should not feel horrified by it. And I know that some girls have less ease at this option than me. I respect that and I don’t want to preach. But my lesson from Sunday night is that you should think hard about going braless to church once or twice.

In part, it says to God that you are the fullness of who you are. God loves all of each of us, even our bodies as a part of our being. And He knows us anyway. So since God knew I spent the afternoon without a bra and I honoured him in my life all day, it was no different in the evening.

So sex tip #8 is to think about wearing no bra to church. And even if you don’t do it, thinking about it will bring you closer to yourself and to God.

In dreams,
Tina

2-1/2 Sided Love Triangle of Christians Debating Adultery: Yes a Sex Tip!

Well, I should thank Holly for the months of encouragement in actually writing something here. As we have several “post-it notes” of our brains tacked up on my bedroom mirror of things I’m supposed to write about, I’ll get to them as I can.

It’ll be a delight.

I must pace myself though. You understand. 🙂

One of the post-it notes is a response to Holly’s post of my life last December and where it’s gone. It’s gone well. For what is the scope of well, I suppose.

But this post, my inaugural one [blast trumpets here!] is about a love triangle that is complicated, as all of them are, but this one is more complicated because of the role of Christianity in defining adultery. There are lessons that we all need to bear. But I’ll get there at the end, I think.

I have a friend from university. She’s called “Vicky” for the sake of our codes in the Blog. I like Vicky and I like her husband “John”. He’s a fine man. We were all in a young adults group at school that was made up of mostly folks from one church but others gravitated in for dating purposes. And yes, Holly, dating and mating, a little of that was going on but not everyone knew about it. The squeaky clean ones [as I was, until later] assumed it didn’t and never learned any truths.

So I have coffee with Vicky once in a while. She pays. It’s a game. John makes a great deal of money in real estate and not that I don’t [not in real estate, I’m a Commodore in the navy 🙂 ], but Vicky wants to spend John’s money far. It’s only money.

So two weeks ago Vicky brings up a topic that shocked me incredibly. Having known Holly for some time and been quite close with her for months, I’m not shocked by bisexuality in my milieu. Even though Holly has invited me to Wreck Beach with her and asked if I’m bicurious about 8 million times, I’m not. But I love her dearly and am not bothered by her advances, which are [mostly] for play.

Vicky says she has moved through bicurious to bisexual. Shock. I was squeaky once. John doesn’t know. Vicky has always liked me…in THAT way…all the way back to university. She still likes me now. I’m shocked. And more than a little flattered.

She tells me about her bi-experimental times at UBC and that they happened even when she dated John. I asked if she feels like she was cheating no him. Because they were girls, no. I don’t agree with that. I can live with it though. I’m not in a place to judge.

So essentially she is propositioning me. I tell her about Holly and my sense of bisexuality now. I tell her my answer is not no, but probably no, but I need to think. And I need to talk to Holly.

So Holly and I talked somewhat on this. And the whole reason the answer was not immediately no is that I immediately thought this could be a way that I could have sex with her husband. I’m a bad person for this. And I’m not. Mostly I’m not. Sin, guilt, adultery, infidelity and all that are real. I am real too. So is Vicky And so is John.

The question that Holly says is yes, is would I allow myself to be sexually involved with Vicky [because I virtually completely have no interest in women’s bodies, she’d have to do all the heavy lifting] if I can arrange it so that I get to have sex with John.

I end up agreeing with Holly.

I call Vicky last Tuesday. I say maybe, but I’m uncomfortable doing it without John’s knowledge because of openness and because I like him and that if she can tell him [not necessarily everything about her bisexual past] about what she wants to do with me AND if he’s ok with it AND if he is interested in having sex with me at all AND at the same time then I would do it.

I want margaritas though and I want it at their house and I want to sleep in the guest room if I feel like it.

Vicky is not totally shocked. John’s a flirt and very huggy with me and lots of people, men too. I’ve also been known to be a little hip grindy when inebriated and he’s received a few pelvic manoeuvres from me. She knows I think he’s a great catch [and not for the money].

She says ok. She’ll tell him. Maybe even everything, but at least her thing with me.

My skull temperature rose 19 degrees. Was I really going to let a woman make love to me, in the ways I can only imagine from the L Word and other things I’ve seen, so that I can sleep with her husband? What am I getting myself into. I was almost freaking out, but I was also rather excited about what if it could actually be.

Thursday night she calls and says she ended up telling him everything. All the way back. He told her about a time when he had sex with a former girlfriend [which she knew about] in university but that one time there was another guy there. John and his girlfriend gave him a hand job and John let him blow him since she was dying to see that and he felt a blowjob is a blowjob. He was mostly ok with it, but it helped watching his girlfriend masturbate watching them.

My temperature went back to that hot place listening to all this. In the end Vicky says they got so much closer about it all and were interested in going through with this thing with me. Vicky says she waited this long to tell me because now I am in a place past marriage and simple illusions [obviously their marriage is not a simple illusion] and that I have Barry and our arrangements [we have arrangements] and that never before did she think I was in a place to say yes.

And so here lies the 2.5 sided love triangle. I want John. John wants me. Vicky wants John. John wants Vicky. Vicky wants me…I will let Vicky have me so I can have John.

It is adultery. It is a sin. It is non-heterosexuality. Also a sin. There is guilt from the instigation of it all. But there is also truth [Holly owns the patent on that sometimes it seems] and honour and respect. And a recognition that we cannot live the pure life. Even the people who stay squeaky still are impure. Is there impurity holier than mine? No.

so two nights ago I drive to southeast Vancouver to their place. I dress in a sensible sleeved T with non-short shorts. Very sensible. John and Vicky are dressed the same. We have dinner, overcooked [they say, I don’t know] salmon and strawberry blender margaritas. We get tipsy. We talk lots. We swim in the pool, with bathing suits.

Vicky is petite, but taller than me. Holly says I must be DETAILED in my descriptions. No one can be as detailed as her. I try.

She has tiny hips and maybe a c-cup on top. Light brown hair. In a one-piece bathing suit.

John is 5’9” not beach volleyball buff, but not flabby. A reasonable body-mass index. A nice smile that shows up even well on his real estate photocopied fliers. Soft hands. More than nice, a warm smile. Yes. Brown short hair, like all real estate agents I ever see.

In the pool they hug and kiss somewhat but aren’t luridly evoking a mood of expectation of my involvement. It never lasts more than a few seconds. Once on the deck he picks her up and tosses her in. as she tries to hold on before plunking in, her torso twists and her bathing suit exposes a large amount of her boob under her arm. My only thought is that will become much more real for me soon…somehow.

Slippy clit, despite being in water. And the margaritas have removed virtually all of my apprehension.

We leave the pool and Vicky says we should shower the chlorine out of our suits and hair. They had just re-constituted the chemical mix a couple days earlier and the chlorine was likely higher than normal.

Ok.

We all go to their shower in the master bedroom. It’s big enough for 3 with probably a $1000 shower head. It backs onto the tub where the “far” wall would be, which would fit at least two. We all go in and take turns rinsing our hair. John washes his and is looking at me as he does it. I move over and wipe suds from his chest and he smiles. His eyes are closed.

I know his cock is hard. My slippy clit is joined by pointy nipples which I thought wouldn’t show because I wore my dark red one-piece, so while they may not have shown, like through my light blue bikini, they bumped through. There was still a large part of me trying to be modest. I know. Don’t laugh.

When I was going to rinse my hair I washed it too. My hair is short. Not like Vicky’s When I’m shampooing, John and Vicky sandwich me. John in front. Very nice cock pressing on my belly. Vicky puts her hands on my hips and presses onto my bum. John feels my breasts. I loved it. Fully.

When I rinse my hair John takes off his bathing suit and rubs his cock on me. Uncircumcised. Curious. Thicker than Barry’s. Just as long. No hair beyond a bit of half centimeter stubble. I hold his cock to me and Vicky rubs my bum. Vicky takes off her bathing suit down to her waist and comes around me so John can play with her breasts with one of his hands. So amazing to watch this from right there. With his cock in my hand.

He turns me around and slides his cock between my legs, crouching down somewhat. Then after a minute or so he takes off my bathing suit and reaches around to press the head of his cock on my pussy and play with my nipples. Vicky backed up a bit in front of me and took off her bathing suit. Almost no pussycat hair. She starts to masturbate.

I like to watch her. I think it was mostly because I was feeling so amazingly sexual that watching her do anything would have been fine.

We get out of the shower to dry off before drinking half a jug of ice water. Vicky dries herself off while we watch as she will not let us have our towels. She then dries John and then me while I watch john leaning against the sink stroking his cock. Vicky isn’t gropy. She rubs gently all over, except firmly on my breasts and bum. I like it too. Is it watching John I like while having my body dried by someone? What is my reaction to a woman rubbing me like this? There really was no answer in my mind then. Just the question. And it was annoying. So I concentrated on the cock over there.

We go into their bedroom. Near the bed John embraces me, hard cock on my belly and kisses me. Vicky lies on the bed. I stroke his cock. It throbs. I’m so wet by now.

We lie on the bed beside Vicky I’m on my back, Vicky sucks his cock and gets it really wet for me. He slides it in a bit at a time. After a short time I’m so happy. He pulls out and lies on his back and slides me onto him on top of him on my back. Vicky guides his cock back in me and he fills me up and cums really fast at this point.

And I lie back on him and feel him rubbing my pussycat. And his cock in me. And a minute or so goes by..and none of us are talking…and his cock softens and slides out but he’s gliding his hand up his cock and onto my pussy hair, sliding his cum and my juice up onto me. And my eyes are closed enjoying his hands rubbing all the wet on me and after a while I realize there are three hands there. Then two, with one on my breast, pushing my nipple around. And I just keep my eyes closed because I’m so happy. Happy to have had sex with this man. Happy to have come close to cumming. Happy to be still on the way to cumming. Happy that I was being touched like this.

Then John’s left hand slides under my bum. He squeezes it and moves his fingers around and near my ass. I’m still a bum virgin [eek, sodomy!], but I like a little touching there now. I like it. And he lifts my bum up and down once in a while too. His other hand is on my right breast. Just rubbing it so nice. Gliding down my belly to meet the two hands on my pussy, gliding cum all over my hair and rubbing my lips.

The rest is a blur that felt like hours. But it was of course not hours. A blur of time. But just distinct kind of tableaux of images. Like a strobe. Fingers in cum on my hair. Finger tips pressing labia. Clit moved back and forth. Finger in my vagina. Licking on my hair and labia and thighs. Tongue pressing on clit. Tongue in vagina. Hands pulling hips forward. Hand pushing bum up.

Orgasm. Rich one. Helped by a margarita. Helped by a swim. Helped by having just been fucked.

And as John said a blowjob is a blowjob from a woman or a man. And I felt so loved. And I felt so honoured through all the touching. And I felt so warm. And I opened my eyes a few times to see Vicky’s hair in a pony tail behind her head and her face gliding over my pussycat and feeling her tongue on every bit of me there. And it was cool. A girl there. Totally new. Totally interesting. Totally not as much of a shock as even her initial question to me to do this.

Not that it was normal. But it felt amazing. Mostly because of what she was doing, not that she was a she.

And after I came, I opened my eyes and slid off and was just smiling and so were they. And Vicky rolled onto her back and John rolled between her legs and licked her and squeezed her bum until she cried and came. Not really weeping but a little like weeping. Tears of joy. Obviously. I’ve never wept when I came.

And then John brought us water and we drank. Then we slept. All on the bed. King size. And halfway to morning I woke up. They were gone. I got up. Walked around a little. Heard noises out back. In the pool. I went. They were swimming around in there naked. All the lights out except on in the bottom of the pool.

I went in. they came over to me and stood on either side and rubbed their hands all over my body. So nice.

We got out and dried off and went back upstairs.

On the bed John was moving up to rub his cock on her breasts, straddling her waist. She asked if I would suck him. He kneeled up and I crawled over to suck and it was very nice. And soon he lowered to glide his cock over Vicky’s nipple and I stayed sucking as the tip slid up.

My chin touching Vicky’s breast was very interesting. I liked it. And I realized that I wasn’t scared. I didn’t think I’d be actually “afraid” but at that moment I felt relief because in some quiet place I though I would feel fear about being this intimate with a woman’s body.

And Vicky asked me to press her breasts together while he slid his cock between them. It was very nice. Like dough. 🙂 So they say rightly. 🙂 I know they feel like dough, but that’s from the inside. To know that feeling with my hands was very curious.

When the friction got too tough, Vicky grabbed some lube and slathered his cock. When he came, he asked me to lick his cock off. Vicky put the cum from her chest on his cock and I licked it all up. I thought about licking it off her but didn’t. Too much too soon. Though I really thought about it.

And then we slept again. The sky was starting to get light.

And when the sun was up, we woke up. Buzzing head a bit. Small price to pay for margaritas and their value in life. Inhibitions, etc.

Vicky started sucking John’s cock. He asked if I wanted it again. Yes.

On my back he pulls me down so my hips are at the end of the bed and started licking me. So slippery. He slides in, while standing up. So much fun. Vicky asks if she can climb on top of me. Yes. In my mind, it’s “whatever”! I’m in such a happy place.

So she straddles my hips and glides her breasts on mine. And up towards my face. Nipple on my cheeks, lips, chest, breast, nipple. Wild sensation.

Then John pulls out. I open my eyes and see him grabbing Vicky’s bum and pulling her back to him. He puts it in her and fucks her while she’s kneeling up over top of me. His hands all over her breasts. She lowers her bum down and widens her knees so her pussy is almost on mine. Then she stops moving and opens her eyes and I feel John’s cock on my pussy again, finding its way in again.

Vicky’s now basically lying on top of me, John’s cock is in me and out and in etc.

And his hands are squeezing Vicky’s bum. And then he’s out of me again and into her and pumping hard and she’s up on her hands and knees, breasts swinging all over. And he cums in her and she kneels up and grabs his cock at her pussy and rubs. So amazing to watch from this perspective.

And then he pulls it out still hard and lies on the bed rubbing its slickness. And his cum drips out of Vicky onto my pussycat and belly and she’s down there licking again. John slides his cum up onto my breasts and she comes up and licks there too. Nipple sucking is so much fun. And feeling her breasts on my belly when she was sucking my nipples was very nice. A new experience in this life of many experiences, but still missing many more.

And she goes back down to finish liking my pussy hair and then she licks my clit for so long that after I came I had to make her stop. It was at that overwhelming place. Almost panic inducing. But not quite. Just close enough to be a riotous rush.

And we go down for breakfast. Bagels and juice and Fruit Loops out of the box. 🙂

And in the shower after breakfast John asks if he can fuck me doggy style before I go. Yes again.

I lean turn around and rub my bum on him and point to the wall to lean into it. Vicky comes over and slides him my way. She puts my hands on her hips and hold my shoulders and watches John fuck me. My face bumping her breasts. Eventually I just leave my face there. So soft and slick with water.

And the g-spot orgasm is so spectacular. John hold my hips, me holding Vicky’s hips, her holding my shoulders…all that was necessary as my knees mostly buckled.

Such a nice 12 hour chunk of my life.

Vicky and I are on for coffee again this week. Wednesday.

She called this morning when I was in the shower [ironically], and left a message saying how much fun they had and how comfortable it was once we got over the early bits. But even those were fine. She wanted me to call to let her know whether anything was weird. I called back and we had a nice chat. Not completely casual but virtually there. Coffee will be good.

So much fun. So much.

So the sex tips. Because there should be sex tips even though Holly says it’s not essential.

Lessons:
Christianity is a living thing. It’s also not absolute. I want to believe it is, but I usually find times I want that to be times I’d desperate to cling to something to make the world certain. The world is not certain, even if the Bible is, or is believed to be, even by me sometimes.

Is it adultery if everyone consents? Strictly, I suppose so. In reality, I can’t really see how. I get the argument, but to quote the wise Avril, that’s “like, so whatever.” But really, it is more complex than that. Me and Saul knew a black and white morality marriage. It was, in the end, inadequate to sustain. Probably not because it was the black and white thing, probably because of who we two were. But still, two healthy people in black and white may work. But who is that couple?

I’m not close to love or a relationship or marriage. I’m not as jaded as Holly on love, or as impaired as her about delving into it. But I know where she is. I respect it in her and me and I wait. I wait for her too even though she is frustrated by it sometimes. I am too. Who wouldn’t be?

Single Christian girls, even married, dating or engaged Christian girls need to follow my advice. Ready for it? Here it comes.

………………………………………

I give you no advice. Except to say this as my final tip. Ask yourself how you feel about your box of the your definition of adultery. Ask yourself how you feel about what I did/do and how I relate it to sin, adultery, fidelity, guilt, purity. All that. Ask yourself if you are sure of where you stand. If you are, accept that and celebrate it. If you are not, ask why. Then find close people to talk to about the truth of what conflicts. And if you have no one close, email me or Holly. We’re close even if strangers. It’s ok. You aren’t supposed to know it all. Especially if you are young. Like, under 60 years old. Or under 20 even. 🙂

In the end, I know grey. I live in it. If you think you don’t, you are mistaken. If you don’t want to be in the grey, you may be wasting your time. It cannot be black and white. Be easy with yourself. Not loose and easy [unless you like that kind of thing], but easy on yourself, I suppose. Be forgiving. Be honourable in your criticisms of yourself. And be loving. If you don’t love yourself, warts and all, no one will. Jesus will. But that can sometimes feel not enough. It is, they say, but really…sometimes it feels like not enough. Let’s be honest. Life’s too short not to.

Hmmm. That felt good.

I will write more, Holly.

It took 3 different blocks of time to finish this, but it was good to go back through. And all this still doesn’t mean you can get into my pants. So there. 🙂

You always say “in touch.” I need to find a tagline.

In the spirit? [gack]

In the groove? [yikes]

In wonder, [maybe]

In dreams. Yes.

In dreams,
Tina.

Commited to Virginity or Just Not to Him?

so, june was housesitting and it went into july a bit. then me and a bud from ubc, who i liked but just as a friend, got together for bellinis a couple times and he invited me up to sunshine valley just past hope.

his family has a place on a stream there. they’re pretty cool. dad’s in real estate in langley and is a charismatic christian. mom’s into saddles. she seems pretty grounded. bro is into timbits at tim’s. he says he makes tens of thousands each day. whatever. 🙂

so we’re up there for most of july. got back yesterday to sleep on some more couches. my sweetie char gets me for a while i guess. you rock, char!

i did the math and i think i could pretty much skip the couches and ride cocks the rest of the summer until the journey to school again. not that i’d let someone fuck me for a place to stay, but i know enough worthy fellows to spend more time on futons than couches with too wooden arms. but i won’t. not because of anything but i don’t feel like it.

sunshine valley has a pool. me and bud and his bro spent some time there most days before and after his folks went back to the city last wednesday. while there we met “sanna”, a gorgeous fijian chick who was also there with her family. her family also goes to a charismatic church. her brothers were much younger than her, like 8 and 10 years so she was really bored and we started to hang out, the four of us.

sanna liked bud’s dad cuz they talked about the spirit alot. my sense of the spirit is quite different, but they’re cool and i got alot of insight about their way of being in it. that’s cool.

she hung out with us for a few days before bud’s folks took off. we’d play scrabble, hang at the pool, sit in the stream, hike a bit. whatever.

and me and sanna had some great talks sitting in the stream or at the pool. she’s 20. turns 21 in august. we’re going to sandbar for some goodtimes. her bf is a nice guy she says. he sounds like it. she’s had a few before him, she went all the way with her first a few times before she got saved. but this guy, who’s also fijian [for whatever that’s worth] and charismatic wants to have sex with her and she doesn’t. she’s a born again virgin. and she’s been doing well since the first bf. but this guy’s realllllly into getting her to say yes. she says he says he is too, but this is different. i can see that…she’s a pretty awesome chick.

she’s like all over how nice he is and everything, which is so nice, but there’s always this lingering “but” in the air that she can’t name. so i say, what’s the “but” and she says there is none. for a few days. and finally, she goes, even if she were interested in having sex, she wouldn’t do it with him even though she really likes him. i wait and wait and wait and she finally goes, he’s just not physically appealing to her. he’s attractive, she says, but not to the point where she’s all gonzo.

anyway, bud’s folks head home and we stay. we swing into hope for some booze and bud, not bud, but bc bud. and head back. sanna’s hanging out alot and the first night, bud goes from just a friend from ubc a few years ago to a splendid cock to ride. lotsa luving. by the weekend i was riding bud and bro and things were quite nice. walking around in the cabin by the stream wearing just a tshirt, enjoying the freedom of virtual nudity. there’s a walking trail between the cabin and the stream so we can’t go all buff. and sunday, sanna’s over for the day while her family went into hope for church and walking othello tunnels and we get some drinking in and sanna becomes SANNA.

now i’m not saying born again virginity is a joke. it’s not. i respect it and people who attempt it. i don’t agree with its necessity, but that’s not the point. people do as they do. and that’s cool. same with me.

but after all the talking a few days earlier, sanna’s final part of the story is that she’s not as commited to the born again virgin thing as she had been. but she wasn’t interested in breaking it with her bf. but she wasn’t really aware of that in her mind.

SANNA came out on sunday after a good amount of pear cider and i like to think hanging with us, bud and bro in trunks and me in my long orange shirt and even though i’m not so busty, i think i put in an erotic tone to it all. she and i didn’t fuck, but i think i wore off on her. at any rate, when bud was sitting on the couch, i sat on his lap and he started grinding, which was subtle at first cuz sanna was there. but it got past subtle and i just got into it and bud’s hands got me off under my shirt.

and sanna became SANNA on bud’s bro as she plunked down on his lap too. before i came, i opened my eyes and came up for air to see SANNA sitting on the chair, shorts and bikini bottoms on the floor and bud’s bro’s tongue all the way inside her pussy and one hand rubbing one of her boobs that had been released from its top. she has the blackest labia i’ve ever seen! absolutely gorgeous.

then me and bud retired to a bedroom to keep it on and let them go too. their grooving for several days i guess set them up for some booze and play. good for them! i knew they were casual, but i wouldn’t have predicted that.

i felt all sorts of things in the following three days. i enjoyed bud. i liked his bro, but bud’s better at his cock play. but whatever. both of them are very special guys. i really like and respect them. but i ended up [not surprisingly i guess] envying bud’s bro cuz he got to get into sanna so well. she’s very attractive, has a sweet soul, talks well, has a sly but not mean sense of humour, and is just outgoing enough. and i think as much as deedee doodle is hot, she’s not a “real” person in “real” life like sanna is. or char. and i don’t know if sanna’s into girls. we never got that far in talking.

we’re gonna meet saturday night at jericho to hang on the beach and pick up some of the folk fest sounds. and i don’t wanna just pounce my idea on her, but i do need to drop the rest of my truths on her to see where she’s at.

but she threw me a bit this past week. i was seeing her as a woman in a bit of confusion about guys and sex and stuff and i didn’t want to lay a package of stuff on her, just be there for her as a friend. and it was when she was doing bud’s bro that i started to feel more for her than i had earlier in the week. not that that’s bad, i think. i was really concerned about helping her understand her and the born again virgin thing verses whether she wanted to sleep with her bf [they broke up this afternoon. no shock]. and i think i was there for that. and i’m glad of that.

but now, i just think she’s hot and so worthy of investing time into each other. and if not, not. she’s only 20 after all. for whatever that’s worth.

the other thing i was thinking, which i’ll ask sanna about when it’s ok to, is to ask about how some [certainly not all or most] of the charismatic folks i’ve met who are more emotionally intense in normal social company, if they are more emotionally intense in bed.

cock riding is one thing, riding a charismatic cock may be something else alltogether.

so. if you’re reading this and your a charismatic man or woman, lemme know!

in touch,
holly