Ingenue

Her name was Jessica, which I thought was a really pretty name. No one was allowed to call her "Jess" for short, save for family and maybe close friends; I was elated when she eventually informed me that I could call her that. But I'm getting way ahead of myself.

We met at a bible study, of all places; my parents had pretty much forced me to start going. I'd been raised in an evangelical church, although by this point in my life I wasn't even sure I believed in God at all. But I was living with them again, at 26, so I grudgingly went along with it again. They weren't making me pay rent while I went back to community college, so I felt like I owed them

something

. Going to church and at least pretending to share their faith seemed to make them both happy. Also, I had friends who happened to go to that same church, and some of them went to that bible study, too, so I didn't think the experience would be

completely

miserable. The study was for "young people," meaning late teens through 20s, so I thought it might actually be kind of fun, because I wouldn't necessarily know very many of them, not yet. I liked meeting people—girls especially, of course.

So, it happened the third time I went. I had sat down in one of the armchairs in the Fellowship Room with my hardly-ever-used bible in my lap, just waiting for more people to show up.

There were lots of cute girls coming into the room, a few I'd never seen. Some were starting to sit down, and some were still wandering around and chatting; most of them looked like they were in their late teens or maybe early 20s. It made me happy to be there.

And then I saw her. She seemed like she was practically glowing; she was sitting near the back, quietly paging through her bible. Long, elegant brown hair, wavy with some loose ringlets and curls—that got my attention first. When she looked up for a second, I felt a thrill-knot in my stomach: she was beautiful, uniquely pretty. Something about the way she looked sparked a kind of recognition in my subconscious, even though I knew I'd never seen her before. It was like I was somehow remembering the future or something. I recognized her, even though I knew I couldn't have.

Then I noticed her tits. This girl was dressed modestly—long-sleeved, maroon blouse, buttoned all the way up to her collarbone, prim and proper; she was a nice Christian girl, right? The blouse couldn't hide her big boobs, though. They jutted straight out from her chest, full, with a tapered shape that made them look like big, rounded cones. They looked impressively large. She was otherwise thin, so there was quite a contrast between her chest and the rest of her body. I immediately felt my cock twitch. She managed to seem both moral and devout

and

sensuous and provocative, at the very same time. There was something about her that compelled me; I had to meet her, had to know her. Hell, I wanted to know

all

of her, immediately. Could I? Not immediately, of course, but could I? Ever? If I tried hard enough?

I didn't want to stare, so I kept my glances furtive and tried to do my best with peripheral vision. Once, when I was stealing a peek, she looked up at me and gave me a half-smile, and then went right back to her bible. I hadn't been gawking or anything, so I was sure it had seemed like I'd just been looking around the room and happened to catch her eye. When our eyes did meet, though, I felt an electric zap through my whole body. There was something about this girl. Whatever it was, this was real.

The assistant pastor walked in and greeted everyone; he was an affable dude named Brian, and he insisted that everyone just call him that, rather than "Pastor Boyle."

"Let's talk about Paul," he said, and that gave me a start, because that's my name—and then I realized he meant the Paul of the New Testament. Brian wanted to talk about the book of Galatians and Paul's message to them, and how it might be a good message for us in modern times.

I tried to pay attention. Honestly, I'm not really sure why, since I didn't really believe the bible was the true word of God, or that Paul of Tarsus had any insights that would actually be relevant to us in the 21st century. For my parents' sake, I guess, I tried to listen. Tried. I ended up staring vacantly at the Fellowship Room's weird blue carpet, and the odd pea-soup drapes, and—if I thought I could get away with it—glancing over to my right to see what that girl was doing, and how much of her I could see, what her body position was (usually sitting upright and paying rapt attention), and whether I could get a decent look at her delectable tits. When she was sitting upright like that, they stood so dramatically out from her chest, a hypnotic sight.

"There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus,"

Brian read from his bible. Me, I was glad there were males and females.

Vive la différence!

(This is pretty much all I remember from high school French, that one phrase.)

I kept trying to pay attention, still, but I really just kept thinking about the girl. I had to fight off the urge to just indulge in a nice, long gaze at her. I wanted to drink her in, every part of her, every article of clothing, every detail. I enjoyed the little tie holding the back of her long, gorgeous hair, the long pleated skirt she was wearing (plaid—I thought it was a nice skirt), her tan-colored sort-of-dressy shoes (also nice). Everything about her, every single thing, seemed attractive and completely perfect. Her full lips gave her face a slightly pouty look, really adorable. Her figure seemed so amazing; the more glances I stole, the more I could see how thin and athletic she looked, and how this made her big, bulging breasts all the more impressive. For a girl who was slender, they were much larger than you'd expect; out of proportion, in the best way.

Could I find a reasonable way to talk to her after bible study was finished? Just walk right up and introduce myself, or something like that? I'd done things like that before, and sometimes it even worked. Would it work with a Christian girl?

Turns out I didn't even need to try. She approached me first.

After the bible study was done, I was standing around, trying to seem social, talking to a couple of buddies I'd known for a while. They were younger dudes, Jack and James, and I knew them from an area-wide mountain biking group I'd first been in when I lived a couple towns over, back when I had my fulltime job. As it happened, they went to the same church my parents did.

Jessica knew them, too, as it turned out. She walked right up: "Hi, James. Hey, Jack."

"Hey, Jessica," they both said—not quite in unison, but close.

She turned immediately to me, stuck out her hand, and gave me a big cherry-ice-cream smile. "I'm Jessica."

I was over the moon. "Hi, Jessica. Paul." I touched her warm hand, shaking it gently, feeling like there was lightning coursing into me.

All of a sudden, I had no interest in meeting or talking to any of the other cute girls in the room, just her. (OK, I admit I'd lost interest in the rest from the first moment I spotted her.) I could detect a light perfume, the scent of maybe jasmine with cinnamon or something—I'm not completely sure, but whatever she had on, I liked it a lot. Her scent was just another part of her aura, drawing me in, putting me under her spell.

Within a couple minutes, both Jack and James had found excuses to wander off; it was just me and Jessica, my new friend, chatting. I tried not to glance down at big, wonderful swells on her chest too often, but it was pretty difficult to resist the urge. Standing near her, her tits really did look astonishingly large in contrast to her slim body. I wouldn't have said they were

enormous

, but like I said, they were a lot bigger than you'd expect on a thin, girly frame. I loved that she was clearly trying to dress modestly, and that it really wasn't working all that well. Maybe she wasn't even trying to dress all

that

modestly; being right near her, I could see that her blouse looked slightly tight, enough to make the buttons over her breasts strain a little. This was kind of exciting.

At one moment, in the middle of a conversation about the new coffee place that had opened downtown, I think she actually caught me sneaking a look at her chest; funny thing was, she just sort of smiled and kept talking and acted like everything was fine. I took that as a good sign. Maybe she hadn't really noticed me looking, but if she had, she was apparently OK with it. The smile almost seemed like approval.

For all this talk about her body—obviously I was totally hot for her—I was pleasantly surprised by how easy Jessica was to talk with. A couple minutes in, I almost forgot I'd just met her; we clicked, talking like we'd known each other for years. I felt comfortable, immediately, and that was something that had never really happened to me before with a girl.

Far too soon, though, it had to end.

"Hey, so, I gotta go," she announced, still smiling. "But I was wondering, would you like to go for a walk with me sometime, like, after bible study? Like maybe next week?"

Oh my god. OK, Paul, play it cool now. Stay cool. I could feel my scalp tingling, I was so excited.

Stay cool.

"Sure," I grinned, hoping that I wasn't grinning too much. "I think I'd like that."

I could believe this was actually happening. I'd fully expected that I would have to find ways to pursue her, and I half expected rejection. Jessica looked like she was a lot younger than I was, and I didn't know if she'd think I was too old for her. Apparently not.

"OK, good," she said, her smile even bigger now. "Next time, then. See ya!"

And with that, she gave me a little wave, turned, and whisked herself away. I watched her go, and noticed how nice her ass was—pleasantly round and flared, shifting under her pleated skirt.

That night at home in bed, jacking off, I came so hard that I had to stifle a loud groan.

---

I jacked off again first thing the next morning, trying to imagine what Jessica looked like naked, riding me, grinding and thrusting her cute, bubbly hips lustfully as she rode my huge cock through orgasm after orgasm. Again, I had to suppress a loud howl when I blew my load.

After a shower, I texted both James and Jack, peppering them with questions about Jessica.

Jack: "She doesn't like to be called 'Jess.' I think only her mom is allowed to call her that or something."

James: "I'm pretty sure she doesn't have a boyfriend."

Jack: "I think she was home-schooled or something. Maybe just moved here? I didn't know anyone who knew her before she started showing up at the church. Didn't go to our high school. Never seen her at Brian's thing before last nite, just at regular church."

James: "I don't think she's ever done anything wrong in her life. She's one of those girls. In a good way. Super-nice."

Jack: "I think she's like 18. Maybe 19? I know she already graduated, last year or the year before. Or finished home-schooling, whatever."

James: "I'm pretty sure her last name is Wallace."

That last bit of intel was key. "Jessica Wallace" wasn't the most unique name in the world, but knowing it helped a lot. Turned out she didn't really have much of a presence online. Certainly she had no Tinder profile, at least not with her real name (and from what my friends said, it didn't seem all that likely that she was part of a hookup scene, anyway). Couldn't find a Snapchat—not that those accounts are ever easy to find.

I did manage to track down her IG, though. She had her real name there, and the name of our town, and the profile photo was definitely her. There were a few photos with her in them, a few photos of friends or family (couldn't tell which for sure), and some outdoor stuff (flowers, trees, she and an older girl in front of a house the size of a mansion). This was better. Now, when I was whacking off, I could look at her instead of trying to remember what she looked like.

I don't care if you think that's creepy. In my mind, it wasn't; I

liked

her. I really liked her, even though I barely even knew her. This was not about stalking the poor girl. I liked her and knew there was a chance I could date her. When I thought about her, I always ended up with a boner, one that would not go away until I had an orgasm. I didn't look at her Insta photos out of disrespect, or like some ghoulish stalker guy. I looked at her because I wanted her, and not only for sex. I wanted to know her.

And soon enough, I would.

---

The next Tuesday could not have arrived soon enough. All day I had to find things to do to keep myself occupied: classes, homework for classes, some help around the house for my dad, even did some dishes for my mom.

Anything

was better than sitting around stewing, driving myself crazy while I waited for 7 PM to roll around so I could go to bible study.

Imagine that: I was dying to go to a bible study. Hilarious! I had a big ulterior motive, of course.

On the drive over, I gave myself a long, stern lecture. If I acted like some overeager teenager in puppy love, I would blow this whole thing. At 26, I'd had more than enough experience with girls to know how to act. The first rule was that you don't give anything away, don't act like you want her, even when you do. You could accuse me of playing mind games, but it was necessary. I would keep playing it cool, and we would go for our walk, and I would play it cool then, too. Overeager guys always end up being

single

guys.

I figured I should show up early so I could catch one of my buddies and appear occupied when Jessica arrived. That way, I would seem a little aloof and not like I was falling all over myself waiting for her.

What actually happened, though: she and I managed to arrive at exactly the same time, well before anyone else showed up.

That turned out to be fine—more than fine, really. I was able to exert enough self-control to keep my dick in my pants (figuratively), and just act like a normal human being and not someone in awe of her supernatural, heavenly presence. I even managed to keep my eyes looking directly at hers instead of letting them drift down to her chest.

We were talking about what we'd done that day—I may have exaggerated a little, telling her about helping my dad lift some big rocks for the landscaping redo he was working on in the backyard, but there were no actual lies. Jessica was telling me about helping out her older sister, who had an infant daughter named Eden. Jack had told me Jessica was already out of high school, so it seemed like she had probably graduated at 17 or maybe even 16. I figured that because it was mid-spring when I met her, and she made a point of informing me that she was 18 years old. I'd been almost 19 when I graduated, but girls did always seem so far ahead when it came to things like school.

That day, Jessica was wearing another nice skirt—she seemed to favor skirts—and a sleeveless blouse, light green. It had been a warmer day, so her 'fit did make sense. The skirt was somewhat shorter than last time's; the hemline was around her knees instead of down to her shins. I liked it. And yeah, when I finally did dare to sneak a peak at her chest, her breasts were bulging even more obviously than they had the previous night; big, proud swells were expanding the front of that sleeveless blouse. Buttonholes seemed a little stretched out of shape again. I don't think she noticed when I braved a few stealthy glances.

Her hair looked nice, too. This time, it wasn't tied in the back, and it flowed freely over her shoulders, an alluring look. Her hair had highlights, some of them very light brown, a pretty contrast to her natural darker color. I liked it a lot.

"You wanna find a seat?" she said, as more and more people filed in. "Sit with me, maybe?" She was grinning at me shyly, and really, for the life of me, I had no idea why she would be timid. Not around me. It should have been the reverse.

"Yeah, how about over here," I said.

We sat down next to each to each other and we both opened our bibles to Galatians again. I was in absolute heaven.

The problem with sitting next to Jessica was that she paid rapt attention to what Brian had to say; she absorbed passages from her bible earnestly when asked to, and took careful notes. I was used to sort of faking all this, but I really didn't dare now. I figured it might put her off if the guy she was interested in turned out to be an imposter. (And I

was

a fake Christian, truth be told.)

So I tried my hardest to pay attention, too, and read from my own bible, trying to follow what it was trying to say to me. Here and there, I'd chance a quick look in Jessica's direction, and she would look right back at me with a cute smile, full red lips. My stomach did leaps when that happened. Heck, maybe I would somehow talk myself into becoming a

real

Christian, a real evangelical, if it meant being able to be near a girl like this. It seemed worth it.

I could smell her wonderful perfume again, light but sensuous, and it made me feel excited. I even liked the color of her lipstick—red, but not super-bright red—not that I ever usually noticed lipstick colors. For some reason, though, I noticed every detail about Jessica, every little thing.

Faith was more important than "works." This was the larger lesson of Galatians, according to Brian; I managed to absorb that much. Apparently it didn't matter that much what you did, as long as you were a firm believer. Or something like that.

I'd been thinking about what to do when the study ended; it seemed kind of important. Again, I did not want to seem like I was following her around; I did not want to be acting like a puppy chasing after its owner. That meant I had to be kind of a dick, though, at least just for a minute. When Brian ended the session, I got up fairly quickly, gave Jessica a nice smile, and then walked over to Jack to talk to him. I'd come up with something I

had

to talk to him about (he'd been to the new bike shop that specialized in mountain bikes that I needed to hear about—right?). I was trying to demonstrate that I wasn't a pathetic loser just hanging on the arm of the first girl who showed interest in him.

It went a little too far, though—it was a rookie move. A quick glance in Jessica's direction told me as much; she was just standing there, near our seats, looking somewhat lost and maybe a tiny bit disappointed.

My pretense completely melted. I waved her over, smiling. She smiled back at me and joined us.

Jack and I had already moved on from mountain bikes, and he was now telling us that a group of them were going to an ice cream place (Brisby's) in a few minutes—did we want to come?

I grinned and said, "Uh, well, we've already got plans."

Jack looked at me strangely for a second, glanced over at Jessica's smiling face, and got it.

"Paul, you sly dog." He was grinning devilishly.

"We should probably go soon," I said, looking back over at Jessica.

"Yeah," she said. "I think it's probably time."

"See ya!" called Paul as we walked away.

We walked together out the door and onto the church grounds. The evening air felt pleasantly cool. I was surprised and pleased when Jessica took my hand.

---

"So where were you thinking of heading?" she wanted to know.

We'd been walking for maybe half a block.

"Oh, like, just around the neighborhood," I told her, trying to sound manly and decisive. "It's a pretty nice area, actually. You got anywhere you want to head to?"

"Not really," she said, quietly. "Just maybe somewhere quiet for a few minutes."

There are moments in life when someone says something and it takes a second to sink in, and then you find yourself completely stunned. This was one of those moments. When I realized what she might be implying, it suddenly felt like I'd been hit over the head—my ears were ringing and my stomach was doing loops. Somewhere quiet. Holy shit.