Putting the 'Fun' in Fundamentalism

Beverly was attractive and personable with an apparent great sense of humor. She was a lot of fun and I enjoyed seeing her in the hall at work. We did a lot of teasing and even a bit of flirting. I didn't know her name for the longest time, but I grew intrigued with her and made it a point to learn her name. I also discovered that she had been divorced for a long time and had a grown son. She was in her mid 40s. My inquiries also yielded the information that she was an evangelical Christian and quite active in her very fundamentalist church. That gave me considerable pause because I don't like fundamentalism in any religious format. Yet, her personality won me over and I decided to take a chance on a date to see if there was something there worth knowing.

I invited Bev to dinner and she thanked me and indicated that she would let me know if she was available. Unbeknownst to me, she was using her sources to check my background and I subsequently learned that I passed muster with her and she accepted my invitation to dinner.

Dinner was a success and we enjoyed ourselves. This was followed by a few more dinners and lunches and then some dates to movies, some golf, a ballgame, etc. We got along well except for her fundamentalism that kept popping up when I least expected it. She was very critical of my gay friends and let me know, in no uncertain terms, that they were great sinners. She was hard pressed to find anything good to say about any Democrats, either. Also, she tried to prevail upon me to accompany her to her church. When I asked if my daughters could be ordained in her church, she vehemently informed me that such ideas were non-scriptural and would never be allowed. Then I informed her that I wouldn't darken the door of her church. Essentially, we had a lot of fun and butted heads over issues of importance to Christian fundamentalists.

One evening, after a few months of dating we were sitting in my apartment on my couch and I kissed her. On this occasion, however, my kiss was returned with considerable fervor and I found her squirming in my arms. I surprised her, initially, by standing up, but I reached for her hand and stood her up and led her into my bedroom. She stood beside the bed and I unbuttoned her shirt and removed it. She stood very still and blushed as I removed her bra and looked at her small, but beautifully formed breasts. I dropped to my knees so that my mouth was just below her hard nipples and I licked one and then the other. She squirmed and then gasped as I intensified the pressure on her nipples. Hesitantly her hands came around the sides of my head and she pulled me to her. When she was gasping and her hips were squirming, I unbuckled her belt and jeans and opened the zipper. She helped me by stepping out of her jeans and panties and I ran my finger along her now dripping slit. I complimented her on her beautiful tits and resumed my licking of her nipples as I teased her pussy's slit with my finger.

When she was finally groaning I laid her on the bed and removed my clothing. She paid rapt attention to my hard-on and said, "Your dick is beautiful."

I had to laugh and she asked why I laughed and I said that I could not imagine her saying "dick" instead of "penis." At that she blushed.

Now naked, I spread her legs and knelt between them to lick her pussy. She stopped me and explained, "I don't like that."

That made no sense to me, but I stopped and made a mental note to ask her to explain that comment later. Instead I laid beside her and kissed her long and hard and slid my middle finger into her pussy. As wet and aroused as she was, I should have slid easily into her pussy but I encountered so much tightness that I could not get the entire length of my finger into her.

I paused and asked Bev why I couldn't ease my finger into her and she simply said, "I'm tight."

"Yes," I agreed, "you're tight, but how am I going to get my dick into you if my finger won't fit?"

She kissed me with real passion and said, "It'll fit."

I had my doubts, but I continued kissing her and massaging the inside of her pussy with my middle finger. Finally, she looked at me with real passion in her eyes and a flushed face and chest and asked, "Would you like to get between my legs?"

"Would I like to get between her legs?" I thought about that for a moment and asked, "Are you asking me if I'd like to put my dick in you?"

She, shyly, said, "Yes."

I told her I very much wanted to put my dick in her and I asked to make me as hard as possible and she slowly put her right hand around my cock and began jacking me off. When I was fully hard, I climbed over her leg and placed myself between her legs. (She had had a hysterectomy and I had a vasectomy so we were both shooting blanks).

I positioned the head of my cock at the entrance to her pussy and asked her to put my dick in her pussy. She grasped my cock and inserted the head firmly inside her pussy and we both groaned at the mutual pleasure it afforded us. Then she closed her legs around my waist and back and she thrust against me to seat me deeply inside her. Her thrust hurt her and me. She was that tight!

Slowly I tried to insinuate my cock into her, but it was a painful and slow process. She endured the literal discomfort quite well and after a few minutes I was, indeed, sheathed inside her. I started slowly pumping into her while we feverishly kissed and I buried my tongue in her mouth. Bev wrapped herself around me and humped back at my thrusts. I told her, "Your pussy is fantastic. You're tight, hot, and wet." It was heaven!

After twenty minutes of constant, but slow thrusting she moaned, "Don't stop...Oh, don't stop" and then she wrapped her legs more tightly around me and dug her fingers into my back and came explosively.

During her orgasm I never ceased thrusting and she begged me to stop momentarily, but I said, "No...this will make you cum again."

She moaned for a few minutes and then recaptured her rhythm and resumed humping back at me. In another few moments she came again, just as explosively as she had previously. This time she screamed. Again, I never ceased pumping. In due time she came a third and fourth time. By then she was weeping with joy. After an hour I stopped thrusting and slid my now sore cock out of her pussy. She wrapped her hand around my cock and said, "You didn't cum."

I explained that I was fine and had not enjoyed anything so much in years.

We cuddled together and she looked at the clock and said, "You were inside me for an hour. How did you do that?"

I explained that I was 60 years old and old guys can simply go forever. Again she pointed out that I hadn't cum and again I explained that I was fine.

I said, "I loved fucking you. You were fantastic."

She put her finger to my lips and said, "Don't say that word. It's not nice."

"Oh," I responded. "What word should I use?" She buried her face in my chest and said, "Screw. You can use that word."

I responded with, "Ok, 'screw' it is. I want to screw you tomorrow." She kissed me passionately.

After cuddling a while she said that we had to clean ourselves so she led me to my bathroom, turned on the warm water and soaped a washcloth and began cleaning my cock. She cleaned it repeatedly and I laughingly asked her what she was doing? She responded with, "Having fun."

I asked if I should wash her pussy and she relinquished the washcloth to me and I cleaned her pussy and thighs and dried her. We returned to bed and curled up together. I asked her why she told me she didn't enjoy being eaten. Again, she put her finger to me lips and said, "Don't say 'eaten'. It's not nice."

She shook her head in response to my question to indicate that there was no substitute for 'eaten." So I asked, "Why did you not want me to lick your pussy and clit?"

She buried her face in my chest again and would not answer. I prodded her for an answer and she would not answer so I said, "Look, I just fuck...screwed you for an hour so why can't you answer a simple question?"

Finally, she looked me in the eyes and responded, "I was embarrassed that I was so wet and I didn't want you to know how wet I was."

I laughed and pointed out that her face and chest were scarlet at the time and it was apparent that she was in a very high state of arousal. Yet again she blushed.

She decided shortly thereafter that it was time for her to go home for the night so I licked her nipples for a moment and helped her dress. We walked outside to her car and I kissed her goodnight.

The next morning, at work, I ran into Bev in the hall. To my astonishment, she checked the hall for other staff and, finding none; she placed her hand over the front of my pants and wrapped her hand around my cock and said, "I love your dick."

Then she flitted away. I returned to my office and wondered what kind of woman would handle my cock in a hall and tell me she loved my dick, but would not let me say "fuck" or "eaten." I shook my head and returned to my work.

At lunch I walked home and made a quick lunch. After lunch I cleaned up after myself and heard a knock on the door. I looked out and there stood a flushed and smiling Bev. I opened the door and she came inside and into my arms. We kissed passionately and I inquired, "Do you want a quick screw?"

She blushed and nodded and I led her into the bedroom where I undressed her. Kneeling before her I found her panties soaked and noted that she was obviously very wet so I should be able to enter her easily. Bev volunteered that she had been wet all morning. I asked if she had gone into the bathroom and masturbated and she said, "That's a bad thing. I don't do that."

I slid my finger along her pussy slit and asked, "Is that your church's teaching?" She nodded yes and began thrusting against my finger. I muttered to myself, and shook my head, but kept my own counsel. I laid her down and undressed myself and lay beside her kissing her and rubbing her clit.

Like the previous evening she squirmed and asked, "Would you like to get between my legs?"

I rolled over her leg and positioned myself at her pussy and she placed the head of my cock inside her pussy. We began the slow process of getting my cock fully into her and made it after a few minutes of gentle thrusting. For the next 20 minutes I screwed her and we shared a kiss that lasted the entire time. Finally, she called a halt to our activities and said "We have to get back to work." Again we adjourned to the bathroom and she washed my cock repeatedly and I washed her pussy and thighs.

As we walked back to work I asked if she would come to my place for dinner and she said she would. Dinner that evening was pleasant and we sat afterwards on the couch. After 30 minutes I undressed her and myself on the couch and she sat, spoon fashion, with her back against my chest. I slowly played with her tits while she twisted her upper back and head sufficiently to kiss me. Eventually, I dropped my right hand to her pussy and began gently rubbing her clitoral area. She began breathing hard and she squirmed around so that she could grasp my cock and she began jacking me off. Within a few minutes I asked if she was ready to screw and she said she was. "This time," she said, "you have to cum."

I asked why that was and she explained that she wanted to feel me cum inside her." I said, "We'll see."

On the bed we laid together and I asked her to make me hard. This time she astonished me by sitting up and rolling over while grasping my cock. She slid my cock into her mouth and began gently sucking me. Her left hand cradled my balls and she sucked my cock beautifully. Mine wasn't only the second cock she had sucked. This continued for a good five minutes and I was then very hard and ready to screw her.

Bev laid back and I positioned myself with my cock at her pussy. She placed me inside and I began the arduous journey of penetrating her amazingly tight pussy. On this occasion she said, "Wait! I have an idea."

She asked me to withdraw and I did and she ran to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of olive oil. Unscrewing the top, she poured a few drops of olive oil into the palm

of her left hand and screwed the top of the bottle on again. Rubbing her palms together she covered her palms in olive oil and began stroking my cock. It felt great and responded nicely. She leaned over and kissed it saying, "He likes it."

She laid back and spread her legs and I again positioned myself at the mouth of her pussy and she placed the head of my cock inside her. This time I began thrusting and the olive oil worked very well indeed. Shortly I was into her incredibly tight pussy and vigorously fucking her. This little fundamentalist loved to screw! She had her legs and arms wrapped around me happily meeting my thrusts with her own... We screwed for a long time and I asked her why she had not cum. She explained that she could only cum every few days, but not to worry about it. She loved being screwed by me and was satisfied even if she did not cum... Again, I chose not to cum. She pouted because I did not cum and I explained that, at my age, it took some time for me to recover my virility. I put it to her as, "Less cum means more hard-ons on demand for you."

We played some card games for an hour or so when I led her to the bed for another round of love-making. After thirty minutes of delight in her hot pussy I withdrew and she asked if we could go to the bathroom and wash ourselves. In the bathroom she again engaged in the elaborate ritual of washing and re-washing me, but she noted this time that I was still at least one-half hard. I asked what her point was and she said, not at all bashfully, "I want him some more." So, we returned to the bed and she expertly sucked me to full hardness and after another application of olive oil, we resumed screwing.

All of the barriers fell after that night. We screwed once or twice daily thereafter for months and her behavior became more and more carefree. For example, one day, at a flower show I was teasing her without mercy about something silly she had done. She stamped her foot, lifted her skirt, pulled aside her panties, and thrust her pussy at me and said, "You're not going to get any of this tonight if you don't start being nice."

On another occasion, at an outlet mall, we were in the back of a large, nearly deserted, store looking at carpeting. I chose at that moment to became powerfully aroused and very hard and said, "Bev, I have to screw you right now" and I placed her hand on my hard-on so she could see how randy I really was. Without a word, she moved behind a large stack of carpets, pulled off her panties and bent forward over the carpets. I lifted her skirt and discovered that she was wet enough for me to push my cock into her eternally tight pussy. I pumped away until I emptied my too full balls into her. On our way home from the outlet mall, she lifted her skirt, pulled aside her panties and opened her pussy to me so I could see my cum leaking out of her. (I never did mention to her that I wondered how many cameras caught us doing the deed in the back of the store).

During all this time, she never ceased preaching her fundamentalist views to me. Once she even worried aloud about my eternal soul while I was balls deep in her and screwing her to an orgasm. She would play with my cock on the couch while watching one of her fundamentalist preachers on television. On Sunday mornings, she occasionally stopped by my apartment on her way to church to suck my cock for five or ten minutes. After church she would go to lunch with her Sunday School class and then stop by again to suck me to hardness and to climb aboard for a good screw. Why she wanted on top only on Sundays was, and remains, a mystery to me.

One irritating two-week phase in our relationship occurred because one of her hellfire-and-brimstone ministers delivered a sermon on sexual morality. Bev then announced that she could no longer screw me. I simply looked at her and she said, "But, I'll jack you off once a week."

Of course, I answered with "How does jacking me off once a week differ from screwing me?"

Bev thought it was "just different." I kept my counsel and our relationship continued as it had, but without the daily sex. On a Friday evening, while at her house, she took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom where she dropped my trousers and shorts. She poured some olive oil on her hands and then grasped my cock and began stroking me. In due time I spurted my cum all over her hands. It was hard to miss her flushed appearance and shallow breathing.

The next Friday evening, in my apartment, Bev again took me by the hand and led me to my bedroom where she again lowered my trousers and shorts, administered the olive oil and began stroking me. Within five minutes she groaned, let go of my cock, rapidly undressed, laid down and asked me to, "Put your dick in me."

I did as she asked and we very nicely fucked each other to moaning orgasms. That was the end of that irritating interlude of two weeks as we resumed our daily sex.

A constant source of frustration to her was my ability and desire not to cum daily. Invariably she would say, "Next time we screw, promise me you'll cum." I would smile and say, "Maybe tomorrow...we'll see." I never understood and she could not, or would not, explain why it was so important to her that I cum. Not only was it important that I cum, but I had to cum exclusively in her pussy.

Disregarding her age completely, when her parents came for a visit, she would stop screwing me. It was imperative that they not know that she had a sex life. On one occasion they stayed for nine days. Bev was so horny by the time they departed, she ran into my apartment holding her pussy which she described as "itching like crazy." She ran into the bedroom, threw off her clothes, jumped on the bed and spread her legs. I was equally horny and the resulting screw would have been worth preserving on film. Parenthetically, on that occasion, she had her wish fulfilled for a pussy full of my cum.

Of course, all good things do come to an end. After nine months she delivered the ultimatum that I marry her and I explained, as I had many times in the past, that I would never marry again. She wept and said, "Screw me again for the last time."

She was, thereafter, gone from my life except for passing in the hall at work and the birthday and Christmas cards we exchange and the occasional e-mail about some good news.

As for regrets, I have none. She certainly put the "fun" into fundamentalism for me.