Lesbian Erotica
"Holy Mary," a sex story by Bree
Pillowtalk by Seth Aronson
From the first day of all-girls' Catholic school, it was Mary I worshipped. It started innocently enough, sitting next to each other in Mass so our bare thighs pressed together, side by side, as we kneeled in the pew. We waited breathlessly for that moment when everyone in the church turns to each other to shake hands and say, "The Lord be with you," and "And also with you." It was sanctioned touch -- our palms pressing in earnest together, eyes locked, long, delicate fingers lingering a little longer than they should. It wasn't long before we were in confession.
"Bless me father," I would start humbly, but I choked on "I have sinned." Anything that felt that good and pure and true and right could not be a sin. I knew it. God gave her to me to ease my loneliness. He made her beautiful so I would look forward to seeing her at school each day. Mary alone was the reason I never missed Mass. For her, I prayed and meant it.
The first time we kissed was in the empty church. I crossed myself with holy water and, before I could think better of it, I crossed her, too. Her nearness was too much to bear -- I was compelled to anoint her nose, her mouth. I moistened her lips with my finger and her pink tongue escaped to welcome me. She drew my flesh into her body. We moved instinctively to our knees, hidden behind the pew. I lifted her plaid jumper above her head and watched in awe how the light streaming through the stained glass danced in patterns of blue and gold on her creamy skin. I hovered over her, my breath hot on her neck. Her mouth met mine.
"Take this," she whispered, her tongue exploring my lips, "and drink it. This is my blood."
I fed on her open mouth.
"Take this," I murmured into the soft curve of her breast, "and eat it. This is my body."
She arched her back like a cat, raising her hips -- an offering. I knelt to worship, gingerly, like a deer at a salt lick. She cried the Lord's name when my mouth found the dampest part of her pale cotton panties. "Oh my God!" she gasped, and I felt omnipotent, moving my face by instinct, slowly, then with urgency. I spoke to her in tongues, and she understood. I drank from her, praised her, delivered her. She squirmed and bucked beneath me, cried out, and murmured lowly under her breath, as if to keep herself anchored to this world, "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women...Oh! Blessed art thou, blessed, blessed, I am blessed." She shuddered -- revelation. Extasis.
"Forgive me my trespasses," I whispered coyly as I entered her with my fingers.
"Mmm, lead me into temptation," she giggled in my arms. I silenced her with a swift move of my fingers. The deeper I went inside her, the closer I felt to God. She clung to me tightly, but it was His name she said, over and over, "Oh God, oh God, praise Jesus, Oh my Lord, what have I done to deserve this angel?" Salty, sweaty, we rocked together. Communion. I hummed a hymn and stroked her hair. "My prayers have been answered," she told me. I kissed the light freckle on the tip of her nose.
"Amen," I said.
Originally published September 2006 - "Divine"