Becky was a self-proclaimed “typical Catholic girl.” She was from a devout family, her parents and her brother did volunteer work for the parish, she went to Mass every week and on every day of obligation, and she went to confession at least once a month.
But angelic-looking Becky was anything but typical in my eye. She was an athletic 5’7″ with medium-length dark brown hair and blue-eyes. She had an incredible figure: long legs, smallish firm breasts, curvy hips, and a terrific ass. But just as importantly, Becky had a wonderful personality. She didn’t take herself seriously, she had a big heart and a sense of humor. She was very easy to talk to and laugh with.
I was thirteen years her senior and was friendly with her family.
Right after she graduated, Becky started waitressing part time at a local chili place to earn money.
I’d recently volunteered for the parish’s public “Call to Catholicism” outreach program. I thought it was my duty to God. In reality, it was just two boring hours handing out literature and talking to people, most of whom listened out of not wanting to appear rude or disinterested. I’d converted to Catholicism a few years earlier because of a woman I was dating and was considering asking to marry. But before I could decide whether or not to propose, we had a big fight and we temporarily broke up. We reconciled after a week or so and it lasted a couple of months, but we couldn’t make it last. Still, I stayed a Catholic for a while and really tried to be a good one, hence the desire to help build my small parish. I was convinced I was doing good, but in truth, most of the pamphlets I handed out probably ended up getting thrown in the trash and my testimony probably fell on deaf ears. Ultimately, I lapsed.
Afterward an outreach event one particular day, I was getting hungry. I drove home for a quick shower and a change of clothes and drove to the restaurant where Becky worked.
“Hey, George,” said a cheerful Becky when I walked in. “How’s it going?”
“Hi, Beck,” I replied. “It’s good. Just got finished with the outreach stuff.”
“Ooh, that sounded like fun,” she said sarcastically.
“Oh, yeah. Lots,” I replied with little enthusiasm.
“Been there, done that,” she said.
We chatted and she served my dinner. As I was finishing, I saw her on the telephone. The conversation didn’t look like a happy one. A few minutes later, she returned to my table clearly upset.
“What’s wrong, Becky?” I asked. “Boyfriend dump you?”
“No,” she said. “I dumped that jerk last month. No, it’s the girl who was supposed to pick me up tonight and take me home. The brakes on her car went out. No one here lives near me and my parents and my brother are out of town and they took the car key with them.”
Becky was really upset.
“I can give you a ride,” I offered.
She perked up immediately.
“You sure?” she said. “I live way out on Mitchell Road.”
“Yeah. It’s no problem,” I replied.
“Oh, George, I really, really appreciate it!” She offered me $5 for gas, which I refused. And she gave me a peck on the cheek. I didn’t refuse that.
Now, was I thinking about sex? I’d be lying if I said it didn’t cross my mind. Legally, there were no issues since she was 18. But I decided I was going to be a gentleman — no passes, no hitting on her, just drive her home, make polite conversation, see her to her door, and say good-night.
I showed up at closing time and waited while she cashed out and did her outwork. Becky gave me another peck on the cheek in gratitude as we left the restaurant. We talked during the drive to her home. She invited me in. When I closed the door, the next kiss was no mere peck on the cheek. Her aggressiveness stunned me.
“Whoa! Hold on, Becky!” I protested, pushing her away gently. “What about your parents and your brother?”
“They’re all gone, remember? I’ve got the house all alone for four whole days,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re gay, George.”
“No!” I insisted as I wiped my brow. It wasn’t warm in her house, but it suddenly felt like an oven to me. Normally, when a beautiful girl comes on to a man, his first instinct is to fuck her senseless. I hesitated.
“Uh, Becky, maybe this isn’t… This really isn’t prop…”
“Oh, please!” she impatiently interrupted and put her hands on her hips. “You think I’m still a virgin?” she chuckled.
“Yeah, I did,” I admitted.
“Well, I’m not,” she snorted. “And my sex life is none of the Catholic Church’s business. I figure God gave us the body parts he did for a reason, so…”
“Alright,” I said nervously. “Fair enough.”
I still wasn’t convinced it was proper though.
“George, it’ll be consensual,” she said. “I’m an adult now. And before you say it, I’m sick of guys my age. After three boys, I’m ready for a man. Understand? I’m guessing you’ve been around the block a few times.”
“Well… I guess so,” I said. I’d had been sexually active since my teens, but I never considered myself a Casanova. I’d never heard Becky talk like she was, but it was a major turn-on. My dick felt like it was ready to burst through my jeans. And she noticed.
“So, what’s your favorite thing to do with that besides…?” Becky asked playfully, making a ramming gesture with her arm.
“Eating pussy,” I said quietly.
“Cool,” said Becky with a huge grin on her pretty face.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and rubbed her hot little body on me as we kissed. I squeezed her beautiful ass and she sighed and giggled.
“Oh, Beck. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to do that,” I told her as I felt her tits with one hand. “But I appreciate the whole woman.”
“Amen,” she laughed, as I pulled off her uniform top and unclasped her bra.
Becky’s delightfully firm tits were finally free. I gently squeezed them and licked her nipples, causing her to arch her back and moan loudly. I kissed her all the way down her soft belly to the top of her tight jeans and massaged the front. She moaned loudly again and rocked her hips. I unbuttoned them and pulled them down with her panties. She kicked off her sneakers and pulled off her socks with her toes and I pulled her jeans all the way off. And suddenly, there was beautiful Becky naked as the day she was born. God she was beautiful! But I wanted to make her work for what she wanted.
“You ever…?” I asked.
And as if she anticipated my question, she began unbuckling my belt and unbuttoned my jeans. She pulled them down. I quickly took off my own shirt and my sneakers and socks and soon I was standing in front of her in my boxers. Becky pulled them off and my hard dick was staring her in the face. She jerked me lightly, then walked to the sofa and pulled the large, soft comforter off it and spread it on the living room floor. She told me to lie down. With a deep breath, she got on her knees and took mt dick in her mouth. Becky wasn’t the greatest fellatrix I’d ever come across, but for her age and relative inexperience, she wasn’t bad. I’m proud to say that within a few minutes of me coaching her according to what I’ve seen and felt other women do to me, Becky could almost deep throat with minimal gagging. And she was getting off on it, too; one hand was working her pussy and she came.
“Ohhhhh,” I groaned. “Oh, Becky! Oh, babe that’s nasty!”
Becky was a natural cocksucker. She pulled off and swallowed the strings of saliva.
“Alright,” she said, leaning back and spreading her legs. “You like pussy?”
“Oh yeah!” I said.
And I dove in and sucked up all of Becky’s glorious juices as my tongue flicked across her clit. She panted, groaned, bucked her hips, and writhed in orgasmic ecstasy.
“Ohhhhh fuuuuuck!” she yelled. I had to muffle her.
Becky panted hard and rested for a few moments in silence; the look on her face told the story. Finally she was able to speak.
But I didn’t. I took her hand and pulled her back up. I wanted to savor every soft, curvy, beautiful square inch of this little dark-haired goddess.
Finally, the time came.
“Oh crap. I almost forgot!” Becky suddenly blurted.
Without a word, she jumped up and ran upstairs to another room. With a grimace, I realized what she was alluding to. I initially thought we were going to have to run down to the Walgreens to buy condoms, but Becky returned in less than a minute with a few of them in her hand.
“Sorry,” she apologized, as she tore one of the packages open and extracted the condom. She put it on me and rolled it down gently and got it slick with her tongue and leaned back. I braced myself for a tight pussy wrapping itself around my dick, but I couldn’t believe just how tight Becky really was. I growled loudly as I slid in.
“Oh, fuck that’s so fucking tight!”
“Yup,” she said, grinning and panting.
“Oh God! I can’t go too fast for too long,” I said I pumped away, thankful I hadn’t come by that point. When I did, it was one of the most powerful orgasms I’d ever had. We made love three times before falling asleep. I slept like a rock. In the morning, we had sex again.
Becky and I kept a fairly regular schedule for a few months. I hated to deceive her parents by fucking their little girl on the sly and could imagine the fallout if they were to find out. They were loving parents who tolerated much, but I don’t think they could overlook this.
I even took Becky’s anal virginity one night. She’d seen a porno with Ginger Lynn doing it and she wanted to try it. It took about ten minutes, patience and a gallon of lube, but I got it in Becky’s tight asshole without hurting her too much. Anal became a semi-regular part of our lovemaking.
But there was always that tinge of guilt. I thought seriously about asking her to become more than a regular “booty call” as kids today like to call a woman who only wants sex, but who doesn’t expect or want commitment or strings attached. But until she left for college, that’s what Becky essentially was. And it was eating at me. Becky, however, she said didn’t want a relationship either. We emailed several times and I drove up north a few times to see her, but within a year, our intimate relationship was over. The next time I saw Becky, which was about a year-and-a-half later when she came down to visit her parents, she had matured greatly, but the sex drive was certainly still there. She came onto me. However, by this time, I was engaged, which she had not known, and I damn sure wasn’t going to screw that up. Becky understood. We sent her a wedding invitation, but she couldn’t attend. They met later. My fiancée might have suspected we’d had a past relationship, but she never pressed the issue.
Today, Becky is a successful professional woman in the health care field. And she looks as gorgeous as ever. She could easily pass for her late twenties. She has never married. She also lapsed, which caused friction with her parents. Becky said that like intimate relationships and marriage, the Catholic faith was too constraining (which was one of the reasons I lapsed.) She admitted to being bisexual as well. This little lady just loves sex. I joked that I was surprised she never sought work as an escort.
“You’d be a star,” I said.
“Well, it’s never too late,” she replied.