Initiation For An Altar Boy

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.”..But don’t let me be lonely tonight,” Paul Simon sang, just before I turned the engine off, pulled the key from the ignition, and got out of my car. I walked across the parking lot and up the steps to my apartment. Standing on the landing, trying to make the key fit into the lock, I heard the phone start to ring. The lock finally turned, and I opened the door and ran to the phone.


“Hi sexy. What are you wearing?”

I laughed. Tim always asked me that. “Hi, Tim, how are you? I’m in work clothes. I just got home.”

“Take them off.”

“Now that sounds like an interesting proposition. Want to come over and watch?”

“Much as I love watching you take your clothes off, tonight I have a different idea. Let’s go out. I was thinking of that pub in St. Johns. Could you use a beer?”

“That would hit the spot. What time?”

“How much time do you need to change your clothes and shift out of manager mode?

“How about twenty minutes?” I asked, after quickly calculating how long it would take to get there through office-escapee traffic.

“Sounds good. Oh, and Mary? Do me a favor. Don’t wear a bra.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I teased back. “See ya there.” I hung up the phone and smiled. I like going out with Tim after work. He laughs at the right places in my stories of the antics of my subordinates.

Tim and I are best described as very good friends who sleep together. In the alphabetical list of relationship vocabulary, we have only made it through the “C”s. “I care for you.” We have a long way to go before we make it to the “L” word. We have toyed with the idea of escalating our relationship to greater heights in the commitment arena, but our timing is always off. In the five years since we met, whenever one of has been thinking there might be possibilities of a future together, the other was stuck on the things about our relationship that drove us nuts. Consequently, our friendship has never diminished, but the physical part has sometimes been derailed during the occasional periods when potential “for lifers” came in and out of each of our lives. Between our “for lifers,” Tim and I always drifted back into the bedroom. We are very compatible in some ways, but rather incompatible in others. One place where timing and compatibility has never been an issue is in bed. He is a pretty satisfying lay.

Tim has the perfect body for me. He is tall and slender, with muscular shoulders, a sleek waist, and a tight ass that begs to be fondled and squeezed. His cock is thick and long, and hard as steel whenever it’s been called into service. His face is handsome in a boyish way. He reminds me of Richie Cunningham from Happy Days. Despite his unquestionably above-average looks, Tim lacks confidence. He doesn’t think much of how he looks, calling himself too skinny. He wears baggy sweaters and pants that he thinks make him look more bulky, but that I think look too big. Tim’s lack of self-confidence is one of the factors in the relationship that has kept me from pursuing a future with him. There are some other things as well.

Although Tim is good in bed, mainly due to the way he touches me and to the size of his cock, he is a little too wholesome for me. I secretly cling to a stereotype that possibly because he was raised as a Catholic, Tim is a little stuck in some conventional, Victorian thinking that I assume came from his days as an alter boy. Tim is great in bed as long as he initiates, and as long as we are in missionary position. When I suggest things I would like to do, or positions I would like to try, Tim seems squeamish and reluctant, shutting me down with statements like, “I wouldn’t be comfortable with that.” I only suggested that he watch me masturbate—it isn’t like I was asking him to let me dress him up in a French maid’s uniform and whip him.

My stereotypical perception is that Catholicism perpetuates the myth that women are for procreation, and it that is “wrong” for men to experience and enjoy sexual feelings and thoughts about them. Whatever the truth about Catholicism, Tim fits my image of a kid who has grown up influenced by strong teaching about morals, rights, wrongs, sin, and penitence. I have always thought that Tim and I could have a very bright future if only he were a little more willing to experiment sexually, and able to move into a moral code that allowed a little more frolic and freedom. I’ll probably never be able to play the slut with Tim, but for now, as long as he is willing to fuck me now and then, I accept him as he is, and Samsun Escort I enjoy his company, no matter how limited our relationship might be.

I walked down the hall to my bedroom to change my clothes. ‘The first thing to go are the shoes and nylons’ I thought, as I kicked off the pumps, and peeled out of the pantyhose and left them where they lay. Next, I shrugged off my jacket and pulled a wooden hanger from the closet. I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor. Picking it up and hooking it in the clips on the hanger under the shoulders of the jacket, I returned my office attire to the closet, and stood there in my blouse and underwear. Reaching both arms up behind my neck, I unbuttoned my silk blouse as far down as I could reach. Pulling it up over my head, I bunched it into a wad and tossed it at my dry cleaning basket in the corner, but missed.

I opened the clasp of my front-closure lace bra, and wiggled out of that as well, knowing that the resulting jiggle of my tits would be a major turn-on for Tim. In spite of his very Catholic reluctance to admit to it, Tim has a boob fetish, and loves to ogle braless women. Tim doesn’t care if they are big or small, pert or sagging, firm or bouncy, round or cone-shaped, he just loves to look at unrestrained tits. I know he likes it when I don’t wear a bra, and I am usually happy to comply, especially when we are alone at home. It makes me feel sexy when he stares at me, unable to keep his eyes on mine in conversation.

Naked except for the lace bikini that matched the bra, I decided, ‘What the hell. Let’s go commando.’ I pulled them off as well, and shivered as the breeze from the open window teased at my body. Standing in front of my closet I reached up to cup one breast in my hand, using my thumb to circle my nipple to erection. The other hand went between my legs, and my index finger flicked casually back and forth across my clit. Very aroused, I backed away from the closet and sat down on the foot of the bed, opening my legs wider, watching myself in the mirror on the outside of the closet doors. I played with myself until I had to give up watching, and collapsed back onto the bed. I brought my feet up against my ass, and spread my knees from east to west. Reaching into the stand next to my bed, I pulled out my trusty vibrator, Mr. Rabbit. Mr. Rabbit is purple, with long ears that spin over my clit. Appropriately spaced from his cartoon head, he offers a thick, silicone shaft with beads inside it. They buzz against the walls of my vagina as I thrust it into myself, ramming it rhythmically against my cervix. One hand guiding Mr. Rabbit, the other covering my breast, I closed my eyes and catapulted over the cliff of orgasm. Catching my breath as I drifted back into reality, I checked my watch and discovered that I had indulged myself to the point where I would be more than fashionably late if I didn’t get a move on.

I got up and went back to the closet. I reached for the denim shirt that Tim liked, which I paired with a flowing wrap-around skirt for possible easy access later. I slipped my bare feet into a pair of sandals, and shivered when my skirt brushed against my bare ass as I moved. I could feel my wet pussy begin to gush as I thought about the opening in my skirt, and how Tim’s hands might end up somewhere inside it.

Heading back down the hall, I stopped off in the bathroom to repair my make-up, slide a comb through my hair, and spritz on some spicy perfume. I left the apartment and walked across the parking lot, noticing that my nearly naked body was responding to the chill in the evening air. I got back into the car, and drove over to the pub lingering in my turn on, and thinking about how Tim would be turned on at the sight of my nipples poking at the front of my shirt.

I got to the pub and found a parking place near Tim’s car. I walked into the darkness and paused for a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the change in the light. Soon, I spotted Tim sitting in a corner booth against the back wall. He had positioned himself facing into the room, leaving the bench across from him for me. ‘Perfect’, I thought. ‘I can flash him and no one else will see me.’ I glanced down at my chest to see how much flesh was already showing from the buttons that I had left open at the top of my shirt. As I looked back up, I caught Tim’s eye and waved. Since he was watching, I kept my eyes on his and suggestively unfastened one more button. He grinned as I walked towards him, avoiding the obstacle of tables and the moderately busy Samsun Escort Bayan servers.

When I reached his table, I kissed Tim lightly on the lips and slid into the booth across the table from him, leaning further to the right than I needed to as I moved, just to give him a view of the inside of my shirt. “You never let me down.” Tim offered as a greeting.

“Sorry I’m late—I got distracted when I was changing my clothes.” The waiter came over to the table and made the most of his proximity and vantage point above me. He had a pretty clear shot of my cleavage and what lies below.

“What can I get for you?” he asked, once his eyes returned to mine.

I’ll have a Widmer pale ale.” I answered with a smile and a blush. He leaned over the table to place a coaster near me, and possibly for another look, and then turned away to get my beer.

“Good show. Can I have another turn?” asked Tim.

“Down boy. The night is young.” I answered, slipping the sandal off of one foot. I brought my foot up to rest between Tim’s legs, and slowly wiggled my toes against his crotch, belying my earlier admonition for him to slow down.

“Down girl. The night is young. Besides, we’re in public.” Tim responded, pushing himself back on the bench out of the range of my toes. I was disappointed, because Tim often seems to reject my advances. He has told me that he has fantasies of me being the initiator, but whenever I try to fulfill his fantasies, he freaks out and cuts me off. I took my foot back, and felt around on the floor with my foot for the missing sandal. So much for having gone commando. Ardor and passion slightly cooled, we chatted until the waiter came back with my beer. Just ticked off enough with Tim to want to prove a point, I turned toward the waiter to give him another peek down my shirt. As he set the glass down in front of me, the waiter smiled and nodded.

“Anything else?” the waiter asked.

No, that’s it for now.” Tim answered, a little too abruptly. I knew he wasn’t pleased with my willingness to show off my tits to all and sundry. The waiter backed out and left us alone.

“You did that on purpose.” Tim accused.

“Yes, I did. I was annoyed that you pulled away from me when I was playing footsie. I try to give you chances to play out the fantasies you describe to me, but it doesn’t feel like you want to play when you get the opportunity.”

“I know.” Tim said with a sigh. “It isn’t you. You are absolutely gorgeous, sexy and attractive. It is my problem. I really do want to play, but I feel like I shouldn’t. I respect you, and I care about you, so I feel guilty when I think of you as a sexual object in terms of being a part of my secret fantasies. I think I would like a woman to initiate, but when you actually do it, it feels wrong.”

“Wrong how?” I asked gently, seeking better understanding. “Tim, I care about you too. I want you to have everything you want, and I want to give you the things you want. What can I do to make it easier for you?”

Tim sighed again. “I don’t know. Don’t give up on me. Maybe I just need to be taken more by surprise,” he said, sipping his beer. “Am I hopeless?”

“No, not hopeless, but a little frustrating.” I answered.

“I’m frustrated too.” Tim replied. “I’m sorry.”

Even though my relationship with Tim is frustrating sometimes, I always melt when he apologizes. I guess that since I know our relationship doesn’t have much of a future in terms of life-long partnership, I am more able to take things for the moment. I really do want to help Tim move beyond his guilt block, and into a place where he can get out of his own way to see that some of his fantasies can be realized. I decide to go ahead and try to ‘surprise him’ sometime when he is off guard. The conversation turns to other things, but in the back of my mind a plan is materializing.

Two or three rounds of beer, burgers, and many anecdotes about our work later, Tim and I agree to call it a night. “I got it.” Tim told me, picking up the tab.

“I’ve got the tip” I replied, laying down well over the 20% I generally leave a good waiter. I slide out of the booth, and wait for Tim as he puts on his jacket. I followed him out of the pub, and together we walked to the parking lot. As we were saying goodbye at my car, Tim took me in his arms in a tight embrace. As he held me close, he whispered in my ear, “I really am sorry. If you can find it in your heart to give me another chance, I will try not to blow it.”

“Of course I will Escort Samsun give you another chance” I answered, keeping my plan to myself. “Thanks, I had fun.” I said, lightly as I pulled slightly away to end the embrace.

Tim wasn’t ready to let go, and he pulled me back toward him for one last squeeze. One hand caressed my back, but the other slid across my shoulder and found its way into my shirt. He covered my breast with his hand and began to play with the nipple, which responded quickly to his touch. “You have… an awesome… rack.” he murmured between kisses to my neck.

‘An awesome rack?’ I thought to myself. No wonder this guy is still single!

“I had fun too.” Tim continued. “Looking forward to next time. Good night.” he said, and he kissed me sweetly and slowly. When he felt finished, he pulled away and we broke apart. “Drive carefully, and call me when you get home.” he called back as he walked away from me to his car. I got into my own car and went through the motions of starting up. Seatbelt, lights, radio volume, etc. Little did he know that I was not planning on going home just yet. Unsuspecting Tim was about to be taken by surprise. And I did mean taken.

I pulled out of the parking lot and into the street. I stopped in at a Walmart on the way to Tim’s house to kill some time. I needed to give Tim enough of a head start so that I could put my plan into motion. After thirty minutes of wandering around the store, I figured I could launch my surprise attack. I went to the cashier and paid for the few items that had made their way into my basket. I left, and headed over to Tim’s. His porch light was on, and I could see that his bedroom window was also lit. I parked my car and walked quietly to the front door, and rang the bell.

After a moment, Tim answered, wearing a bathrobe tied at the waist. Before he could speak, I asked him if I could come in for a minute. “I have something I need from you, but I forgot to ask.” I said, as he opened his screen door to let me in.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise.” I answered. I took a step toward him and untied the belt of his bathrobe, then ran my hands up his chest, and pushed the robe back off his shoulders, leaving him standing in the entrance hall without a stitch on. “Don’t say a word.” I warned him. “This is what I need.” I said, as I reached for his rising penis, and held it with both hands alternating strokes and squeezes. Wordlessly, Tim allowed me to fondle him, and moaned softly. Once he was fully aroused, I let go of him and bent down slightly. With one hand, I grasped the front of my skirt at the bottom. Slowly, I pulled it away to reveal my bare legs and damp pussy.

“Were you going without underwear all night?” Tim asked.

“Hush. You don’t get to talk, but yes, I was.” I answered. “I got all hot thinking about seeing you, I’ve been hot all night from going without a bra for you and squirming around with no undies on. We’re not going to miss the moment, are we?”

With my other hand, I unhooked the waist closure and let the skirt drop to the floor. Standing in front of Tim, I brought my hands up to my shirt and unbuttoned the last few that were closed until my shirt was hanging open. Slowly, I turned around, reaching my arms behind me. I looked at Tim over my shoulder and said, “Pull.” He grasped my shirt with one hand at each of my wrists and peeled it away. I turned around to face him, stopping for a few seconds to give him a chance to look at me. I took a step toward Tim and took his hand in mine, leading him toward his bedroom, stopping now and then to kiss him, and tell him some of the things I was going to do to him once we got there. “I’m going to ride you tonight and you are gong to play the bucking bronco. With one hand, you will play with my clit, and with the other, you can try to catch my tits. After I shoot off into the stars, it will be your turn. I’m going to suck your cock until you beg for mercy. I’m going to tease you with my tits until you can’t stand it, and then I am going to ask you to fuck me again hard and fast because I absolutely have to have you and I can’t wait another minute. I don’t care whether or not you want me, or whether the timing is right for you. And you will fuck me, and you will do everything else I ask you to do, because deep down inside, you want me to ask you for what I want, and you can’t say you don’t want me, because I have all the proof I need.” I reached down to his huge pulsing cock and held it in my hand as evidence. With my thumb, I rubbed the drop of moisture glistening at the head of his penis over the top and down the shaft. He groaned again. “Now kiss me again, Tim. Tonight I get to initiate, and you can forget about trying to get any sleep.”

He kissed me and much more. Tim got through my initiation with flying colors.

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