She Was a Good Christian Girl... She "Was" -- [23M/19F][Passionate][Slow-burn][Forbidden-Desire][Friends to Lovers]

This is a story about a girl I knew named Anne (not real name). Anne was an amazing person, the type who always brightened a room when she smiled, was friendly and bubbly, incredibly caring and disarmingly sweet. She was blonde with a wolf cut and had hazel eyes filled with kindness and curiosity. Her body had curves that were so perfectly shaped, god probably used a stencil when making her.

When I first met her, I flirted with her right away and told her I thought she was cute. Without missing a beat, she told me "I'm not going to sleep with you", (I blinked in shock with how immediate that reply was lol) but she said we could still be friends. She was very upfront about her beliefs and I respected her for it, so friends we became. She had that response ready to go for anyone who flirted with her, because she was gorgeous and got a lot of attention, and that line scared off most dudes looking to hookup. Fortunately, I'm not most dudes.

We got along incredibly well, and the closer we got, the more we opened up to each other. There was always mutual attraction, but Anne made it clear: while she found me attractive, she was careful—*very* careful, not to cross the line, even though we danced on the edge many times.

See, Anne was deeply Christian, and one belief that she held dearly was not having sex before marriage. She had mentioned a boyfriend of hers years ago, one that she thought she was going to marry, and that they had sex once, but since then, nothing (he broke up with her after sleeping with her, the douche). So she was intent on staying celibate until her wedding day.

She also had told me multiple times about how she would masturbate or watch porn, and how horribly guilty she felt after. Things I personally think are normal and healthy, but just as she never pushed her religious beliefs onto me, I never pushed mine onto her. But we *did* talk, and in those conversations, I could almost feel that guilt chip away, and as I looked into her eyes during those moments. I swear I saw something vast, unexplored, and desperate to get out,  underneath all that guilt and conviction. Or maybe I was just projecting, who knows.

\--

One cold winter day in December, I was in her town for a week, and I rented a hotel for my stay. The place had a pool and a games room, so I invited her over to do some swimming and hang out as we hadn't seen each other for months at that point, and I was missing her something fierce.

I met her in the lobby, when her eyes met mine, something flickered behind them. She smiled and pulled her hoodie tight around herself, covering her body like a present needing to be unwrapped, as she followed me towards the pool.

It was noisy at first. Kids yelling, water splashing, an older couple hanging out in the shallow end. But over time, people trickled out, gathering their towels one by one, leaving us behind. Eventually, there was no one left in the pool, except us.

I made a joke about it being God’s way of giving her temptation, one she could *politely* decline. 

She rolled her eyes at that.

“You assume I’m tempted” she scoffed.

“Please,” I said, swimming a lazy circle around her.

“You’ve been spiritually battling me since the day we met.”

She splashed water at me. “Maybe I’m trying to save your soul.”

I chuckled, “I like to think that you’re just trying to balance out the universe, a good Christian girl hanging out with a very obvious heathen ha ha”.

She laughed, and flashed me that same smile that lit up rooms. Then, without warning she lunged at me and tried to dunk me under the water. I let her get close, then caught her mid-attack. Her arms looped around my neck, then her legs wrapped around me as she tried to pull me in. I stood there bemused, arching my back against the aquatic assault, as she fought against bouncy and my strength to submerge me. I could feel her crotch grind against me as she tried to pull me in, the sensation of paper thin fabric, mere millimeters of separation, and my already deep attraction to her, caused blood to immediately rush to my cock, which pressed against her as she continued to pull.

It took her a second to realize, and then she froze. Our chests pressed together in the warm, still water. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe, and neither did she.

Her breath caught, and she exhaled carefully, like untying a knot that had formed too quickly. She untangled her self from me, turned, and swam to the edge. Brushing her hair out of her face as her cheeks flushed, her hand covered her mouth as she tried to hide her smile.

I stayed where I was, floating in the ripples of the moment, as I took longer than usual to calm down.

Neither of us said anything.

\--

We moved to the hot tub not long after that, and sat beside each other, fingers and knees brushing and bumping together beneath the bubbles and waves. We stayed like that until our skin started to prune, laughing a bit too loudly at each others jokes and teasing, as we soaked in the empty space, enjoying each others company. Once the heat became unbearable, we dried off, and walked back to my room. We were both quiet on the way up, stealing glances from one another and sharing small smiles as we ascended the elevator and walked the long uniformly decorated hallway that lead to my room.

Once inside, we each took a quick shower, just to get the stickiness of chlorine out of our skin and hair. When she stepped out of the bathroom, she was wearing a shirt of mine I had loaned her, and my plaid sweater on top. Her hair was damp and messy, golden strands sticking together and framing her face as she sat down beside me on the bench outside the bathroom. We looked into the mirror across from us, making eye contact through our reflections.

She sat close enough that our legs touched, but neither of us moved away, I took out my phone to take a picture of us enjoying the moment, as she leaned her head against my shoulder, and time slowed to a crawl.

My perception shrank to only to the areas touching her, I felt her warmth, her breath, her touch. I smelt the scent of default hotel shampoo, entangled with faint wafts of chlorine that still clung to her soft skin. We started talking, well whispering really, our voices low like we were scared of someone over hearing us in the empty room. We told each other things we hadn’t planned to. Secrets. Dreams. *Desires*.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said it.

“I’ve touched myself . . . thinking about you.”

The breath caught in my throat. I didn’t turn to look at her, I just let the words settle between us.

“I’ve, done that too,” I said.

After a brief pause, I asked her.

"Can I kiss you?"

Once the question was out there, the silence In the room felt deafening, you could hear the muffled sounds of the tv from the room next to us, but soon even that seemed to fade. She wasn’t making eye contact, not really. Just looking down, then up, then down, then up again, occasionally glancing at her reflection in the mirror. I lightly grabbed her chin between my index finger and thumb and tilted her face upwards, so she had no where else to look, but at me.

"Can I?" I asked again. The whispered words fell out of my mouth and wormed their way into her psyche.

Her eyes bounced left and right between mine, and through those gorgeous hazel painted orbs, I surveyed her thoughts.

She was caught in the middle of a war with two sides of herself, one representing what she was taught, the other what she wanted. I could see it all flickering in her eyes, the hesitation, the guilt, the *ache.* Desire and restraint were brawling in her brain.

She wasn't just thinking about saying 'yes', she was *fighting* not to.

I flashed her a warm soft smile, and like the final straw put on the back of a *very* unfortunate camel, something inside her broke. Her body softened, her shoulders sagged, and the fight faded from her eyes.

And for the first time since we met.

Desire won.

…

"yes" she said softly.

I kissed her.

Short, soft, tentative kisses. The kind where the only goal is exploring how the other person tastes and feels.

And fuck did it feel *right.* Her lips felt like heaven, but they damn sure tasted like sin.

The soft kisses didn’t last long. After a few seconds she pulled me in closer, kissed me harder, more passionately, more intensely than I was expecting. It was obvious that this was new to her, it was unpracticed and messy in a way I found adorable. Honestly, It felt like she was trying to eat my face lmao. But the second whatever barrier she had put up cracked, it shattered. All semblance of restraint went entirely out the window.

She reached for the hem of my shirt and started to pull it off me hastily. I had glanced down and saw her hands trembling, and I couldn’t tell if it was just nerves and excitement, but I didn’t want to cross a line she wasn’t sure about. We were close, *really* close, and I cared about her too much to let something happen that she would regret. I pulled back slightly and placed both my hands on her shoulders, and said to her.

"We can keep going, and trust me *I really* want to. But if you ever want to stop. All you have to do is say the word, okay?".

She looked me dead in the eye, her gaze steady and unwavering, a far cry from her uncertainty a few moments prior. And with the same amount of conviction in her voice that once told me that *this would never happen,* she said.

"I want this."

"I want you."

And that was all I needed to hear.

I pulled her in close and she climbed onto my lap, straddling me as we kissed, intense and frantic like we were making up for all the times when we didn't. We tore off each others clothes, not rushed, just hungry, desperate for skin on skin contact and to truly feel each other.

My hands explored all over her body, I squeezed, groped, and caressed, savouring the way she responded to every touch. I was a cartographer trying to map every inch of her unexplored territory. My hands found themselves gravitating towards her perfectly plump and round ass as she cupped my face in her hands and pulled me in to kiss her deeper.

I stood up, and moved towards the bed as she stayed wrapped around me, just as she was in the water before, except this time she wasn't running away. I laid her down onto the bed and slipped off her panties, a wet string of her arousal clung to the fabric like cheese from the first pull of a slice of pizza. She turned away, and I reached out and cupped her face gently as I whispered to her.

"You look perfect".

Her eyes teared up a little, and while her mouth was silent, her smile spoke volumes. I slid my cock against her slick wet pussy, the lips of her flower swollen and puffy as I used my tip to trace a figure 8 on her entrance. My cock lightly brushing against her clit at the top of every 8, and ever so slightly entering her at the bottom. She moaned and squirmed with every brush past her sensitive swollen clit, and as the feeling of her enticing her warm wetness engulfed my tip, with no will or desire to resist, I entered her.

She gasped and squeezed the bedsheets as her pussy stretched to accommodate my size. I pushed deeper into her slowly, inching ever so slightly forward, then pulling back, She was so incredibly tight, and just as equally wet. My cock dug into her more, and more, as my cock moved through her folds and ridges, stopping only when I pushed all the way to the hilt. As my groin pressed against her clit, she moaned and cried out in pleasure. Her smile wide, as tears streamed down her face, she twitched and tensed as if the pleasure itself was electrocuting.

She wrapped her legs around me like a prayer turned physical as she pulled me deeper into her, Her body trembled as she moved with a kind of desperate grace, like someone unlearning shame and uncovered truth. Her nails dug into my back, and still she pulled me closer, as if touch alone could erase the years she spent pretending she didn’t want this. Every little twitch, every gasp, every shudder a different ending to the same story written with her pleasure.

End of part 1