God or the Devil?

I pulled up outside her house and Maria climbed off the pillion. Her racquet was slung across her back and she reached behind and pulled it over her head.

She was smiling; in fact she never stopped smiling except of course when I tried to put my hand up her dress. Then it was, "Please stop; I don't want you to. Why do you always have to spoil everything by being dirty?"

I had no wish to spoil anything, I just wanted to put my hand between her legs and feel her pussy. Even when I put my hands on her tits she said, "You're doing it again and I've told you not to touch me there."

She turned and smiled then blew a kiss with, "See you Friday."

I watched her run to her gate and then along the path towards her front door. A leggy, skinny, churchgoing virgin who happened to be my girlfriend.

How she ever got to be my girlfriend was a mystery to me. At the tennis club we had drawn each other in the mixed doubles and a couple of Cokes later we were 'James and Maria'.

Each night in bed I would fret about it. I knew what was going to happen. They would start asking, "When are you two going to get engaged?" and then, "Have you fixed the date yet?"

Every time I tried to grope her she would say, "I keep telling you, I don't want to do it until we're husband and wife."

During the marriage ceremony I would be the only virgin in the congregation; that is apart from Maria.

I often pleaded, "Why me God? Why won't you let me feel just one little pussy?" All my mates were shagging their brains out, or so they said, and all I did was pull my plonker. I wanked so often I knew eventually I would have to wear glasses. I could go through a box of tissues in a week. The one condom that I possessed was so old I could have sold it on eBay as a collector's item.

Why wouldn't she let me feel it? I wasn't going to damage it or push it out of shape or something.

Of course I knew what one looked like; I'd seen enough porn on the Internet. The porn ones were hardly pretty; great big, squidgy things you could paddle in. They had to be to take some of the cocks. I'm six feet tall and on the Richter scale I reckon mine is an eight. That's after comparison with the other guys in the shower or peering over at someone else's while at a latrine. Well we all do that don't we?

The point I'm trying to make is that after comparison with porn studs, I am merely average. Surely the producers must realise what it's doing to men's confidence?

Inexperienced wives who see porn for the first time probably think that all cocks are supposed to be that size and therefore think that their husbands are underprivileged.

Consequently I am of the opinion that woman should be banned from watching porn altogether and millions of men would be greatly relieved. I feel very strongly about it.

I just wanted to have my own pussy to play with, but of course it had to be attached to a female. I wanted a tiny sweet furry little thing that opened like a flower when I kissed it.

I wanted to say to it softly, "Hello little pussy, you belong to me and I'm going to look after you. I'm going to play with you and stroke you and make you go all soft and wet. And when we get to know each other better, I'm going to introduce you to a friend.

You're going to get very fond of him and he'll visit you occasionally, well quite often actually, and he'll pop in and check that everything's okay inside. So you have to trust him and let him do his thing which I know will be lots of fun for both of you."

The likelihood of that ever happening was remote because my very existence was total shit. Whoever said, "Life is a bitch and then you die," was talking about me. It wasn't even as if I was repulsive to girls. They would say hello and often walk along with me, but then they would always ask about Maria.

I was sure that I could probably have dated some of them but I was lumbered with a girl who thought that sex was just for making babies.

At that time, I was about to leave college to try to find a job. With my meagre qualifications, what was I going to say in the interview?

"Got a degree?"

"No."

"Any experience in IT?"

"No."

"Ever fucked anybody?"

"No."

Prospects of landing a job; nil.

Added to which I was totally broke and my only asset was a three-year-old moped that I would still be paying for when I was seventy years of age. I didn't smoke, I couldn't afford to drink much and my tennis club subscription was two months in arrears.

My Mum and Dad were great and they had helped me out as much as they could afford, but Dad had a basic job and they had their own lives to live. They were actually proud of me although I could never understand why.

On the other hand, Maria's parents were shining examples to the rest of the local community. He held an executive position with an insurance company and she was involved in just about every local organisation. They were staunch churchgoers and their darling daughter Maria sang in the choir. She was their only child and they treated her like she was a princess. In their eyes she was perfect.

Mrs Anderson was quite pretty. I figured she was close to forty and had nice dimensions. But she was always dressed like she was going to a wake. If she had raised the hem of her dress twelve inches and worn a blouse instead of those drab knitted things, she could have turned a few heads.

Mister Anderson always wore a suit with a waistcoat no matter what day or occasion it was. He had inherited his grandfather's gold watch and chain and was never seen without it. At every opportunity he would lift it from a waistcoat pocket, flick up the lid and announce the time.

He was a councillor and was jointly involved with his wife in the local community. He even sat on the tennis club's executive committee although he never played because he had a suspect heart. He was several years older than his wife.

When Maria took me to her home for the first time, their suspicion of me was palpable. Mrs Anderson even took me to one side and said warningly, "Our daughter is very precious to us so we don't want you leading her astray."

That really pissed me off. Not because of her mistrust of me but it suggested that they didn't have absolute confidence in their daughter after all. The fact that their mistrust of me was justified was irrelevant.

She had nothing to worry about because the vault of the Bank of England was more accessible that the inside of Maria's knickers.

My life continued in its downward spiral, but God must have been listening because one day he answered my prayers.

He said, "James Davies, I have to admit that I have made your life unbearably shitty and you've accepted it like the wimp that you are. Things will now get better for you, but don't push your luck."

He may not actually have uttered those divine words but as things turned out, he sure as hell could have said them.

Mister and Mrs Anderson had enquired about my religious beliefs during our first meeting and my reply had been vague. I said I wasn't sure what I believed in and I didn't go to church. They both tutted reproachfully and insisted that I must join them one Sunday morning.

Fortunately I always played soccer on Sunday mornings and I said I couldn't let the team down. With reluctance they accepted my excuse and I expressed my sincere disappointment that I would be forced to miss such an uplifting experience.

I managed to continue avoiding any of their boring functions for a while; but then they played their trump card. The church was putting on a religious play and Maria was starring in it. It was an evening event and as she was my girl friend, they said I would have to go to support her. There was no way out of it.

My life had already reached its absolute nadir and I was masturbating so often I was worried about repetitive strain injury. I had a girlfriend whose vagina was still in its plastic wrapper so how much worse could life get?

The play was to be performed at the local church hall and I said okay I would see them there. But they wanted to make sure that I went; so I was told to ride my scooter to their house and then accompany them in Daddy's car.

The car was a huge Mercedes of indeterminate age and the inside of it smelled like an embalming parlour. Maria left early for make-up or something so it was just the three of us in the car.

As it was a special event, Mr Anderson swapped his suit for a dinner jacket and his wife wore a dress with sequins all over it. For a welcome change, her dress was quite short and I found myself admiring her legs.

Mister Anderson explained that there was a problem with the front seat adjuster and it wouldn't push back. Because of my height I endured an uncomfortable journey to the hall and I had difficulty in hearing their conversation because my knees were blocking my ears.

The play was even more boring than I anticipated and had an incomprehensible plot. Maria pranced around the stage like a prima donna and whenever the audience applauded it was the closest she could come to achieving an orgasm.

Eventually the torture was over and the audience mingled at the temporary bar which served only soft drinks. My misery continued while I listened to their discussions about the merits of the play.

The cast had to stay behind to remove their costumes and make-up so a mini-bus had been hired to drop them off at their homes.

When the three of us got to the car Mrs Anderson said, "Harold, you can't make James sit in the front seat again, he'll finish up deformed. He'll have to sit in the back with me." So I climbed in beside her.

There was a long delay to get out of the car park. The cause of it was a stretch of road works across the entrance where single lane traffic was controlled by an automatic light. We joined the queue of cars exiting both left and right, and they all had to wait until the traffic was flowing in their direction.

Mister Anderson began to get agitated and Mrs Anderson urged him to be patient because getting upset was not going to get us home any sooner.

It was just then that God remembered his promise to me.

In the semi-darkness I found myself looking at Mrs Anderson's bare knees. Her dress had ridden above them and several inches of thigh were visible.

I began to fantasise and imagined the sensation of gently inserting my hand between her knees. She would lean back with her eyes closed and part her legs invitingly. I would slide my hand ever higher as I stroked between her silky thighs and then I would slip my fingers under the edge of her panties.

I would caress her pubic hair and then insert my finger into her wet and eager pussy and she would gasp in ecstasy.

As my fantasy developed, my cock became a pillar of throbbing muscle and I gripped it through my trousers. My balls were aching and it would have taken only a couple of pulls to come.

It should have been only a fantasy but when God makes a promise he keeps it. First he numbed ninety-five percent of my brains cells thereby terminating all rational thought. That left only enough for basic motor functions like moving my right hand and keeping my heart pumping sufficient blood to maintain my erection.

With common sense no longer functioning, the remaining five percent of my cells came to a unanimous decision. They decided, "Oh fuck it; just shove your hand between her knees."

That is exactly what I did. I shoved my hand between her knees.

The result was dramatic. She jumped in the seat as if stung and sat rigidly upright with a straight back. Her eyes opened wide in surprise and her thighs clamped onto my hand as she grabbed my wrist.

She may have been in shock but I wasn't exactly sure what was happening either. I had no recollection of putting my hand between her legs and I wondered how it had got there.

Was I still fantasising? I looked again; and I definitely had my hand between the legs of my girlfriend's mother.

Even though they were pressed tightly together, the insides of her thighs were warm and soft just as I had fantasised. My penis was now threatening to explode.

Of course I realised immediately that I was in serious trouble and a charge of sexual assault was an absolute certainty. I would go to prison and with a criminal record I was never going to get a decent job. My parents would have to move house to escape the shame and I would spend the rest of my life as a social outcast.

But it was too late to turn back the clock so I concentrated on the existing situation. I still had only one intention and that was to feel a pussy, but my hand was gripped firmly between her thighs and I was unable to move it. If the opportunity arose I was going to slide it in the direction of where I expected her pussy to be.

We still hadn't reached the car park exit and Mister Anderson's frustration was boiling over. He growled, "Look at that idiot, why doesn't he go? Go damn you the traffic is flowing in your direction. Oh for Pete's sake, he's stalled the engine."

Mrs Anderson was now digging her nails viciously into my wrist, but I suddenly became aware of a curious fact. She had not uttered a sound.

Her nails hurt like hell but I gritted my teeth and stretched my little finger towards the crotch of her panties. I could just reach the silky material and I rubbed it against where I thought her pussy ought to be.

Was it my imagination or did I feel a softening in that area?

While our silent and desperate struggle continued, the car windscreen had begun to steam up and Mister Anderson was clearing it with his hand.

He half looked over his shoulder and said, "Dear, see if there's a cloth in one of the side pockets because there aren't any in the glove box."

Mrs Anderson hesitated but then leaned sideways to reach the side pocket. As she did so, her thighs parted slightly and I gained another few precious inches.

When she realised that I had won more ground she punched my arm spitefully. She then reached forward with a cloth and said calmly, "Here you are Dear and try not to get too upset. Just be patient and we'll be home soon."

I was amazed at the calmness in her voice. Despite the frantic efforts she was making to protect her honour she had spoken without a tremor or a hint of breathlessness.

My hand was held flat between her thighs and was now right up against her panties. My little finger was close to the target area and although I could only just move it, I managed to rub it slowly up and down. This time there was no mistake; through the thin material I could feel a softening up.

She was now gripping my wrist with both hands and she turned her face towards me and hissed, "You bastard."

But I was in the grip of uncontrollable lust and unstoppable. The only barrier between her pussy and me was the flimsiest of material and I was prepared to rip it to shreds if necessary.

Suddenly without warning she stopped struggling and it took me completely by surprise. Her thighs parted slightly and I was able to move my fingers freely. Was it a cunning trick?

With my heart thumping I cautiously I moved my hand up until I reached the top of her panties and eased my fingers under the band.

She didn't stop me.

I could hardly breathe with excitement as my fingers touched her bare skin. As I inched them downward I felt her pubic hair and gently pinched a tuft of it between forefinger and thumb. Another two inches and my fingers drifted onto her soft nest.

I explored it gently and it was warm and wet. I rested my hand on the pliable folds and carefully inserted my middle finger. As it slid into the sopping hole I heard a faint gasp.

She was now slumped low in the seat and her eyes were closed. Her chest was rising and falling quickly.

It seemed to be unreal and I held my breath as I slipped another finger into her gaping wet slit. I now had two fingers in the saturated crevice.

I had no idea what to do next so I revolved them slowly in a circle. I felt her pelvis give two quick forward thrusts and there was no mistaking the signal; she wanted me to move them in and out.

Slowly I began to fuck her with my fingers but almost immediately her pelvis jerked impatiently again. She wanted me to go faster or harder or both.

I pushed my fingers in as far as I could and quickened the pace. At once I heard a tiny whimper and she opened her legs wider.

She moved down even lower in the seat and then gripped my wrist tightly with both hands. At first I thought she was trying to stop me but she pushed my fingers in even deeper. Holding my wrist tightly she began to thrust herself onto my hand. I could hardly believe it but she was actually fucking herself with my fingers.

Her movements became increasingly faster until they were almost frantic. She was driving my fingers in and out so violently I glanced up quickly to see if Mister Anderson was aware of it, but his voice continued to drone on about the traffic problem.

Suddenly she stiffened and I heard her suck in a long slow breath. For some seconds she didn't breathe at all and her body was rigid, but then she slowly exhaled in jerky sighs and began to relax. The pressure from her fingers eased and her chin fell onto her chest.

Throughout the entire frenzied activity she had scarcely made a sound.

I thought, "Jesus, she's just come."

My cock was close to exploding and desperate to be released but I dared not unzip myself. If I had come out in the open it would have hit the roof of the car. The ache in my balls was crippling.

I reached for her left hand and placed it on my bulge. Then I closed her fingers around it and gave her a hint by moving her hand up and down. She immediately got the message and even through my trousers she managed to achieve a jerky movement.

My fingers were still inside her pussy and it took less than three seconds. As I clenched my teeth to avoid making a sound I felt myself spurting and it seemed to go on forever. Finally there was no more and I slumped back in the seat.

As I bathed in the euphoria of my experience, I was aware that she was looking me. She was still gripping my cock through my trousers and her eyes were wide with amazement. She knew what had just happened and it was probably the first time in her life that she had wanked off a guy.

I carefully removed my fingers from inside her and pulled down her dress to cover her exposure. I felt grateful but I didn't know how to express myself. So I reached with my left hand and gently pulled her face towards me and caressed her cheek with the softest of kisses. As I moved away, her face was expressionless and I wondered what she was thinking.

I became aware that the car was now moving quickly and I looked out of the window. We were halfway home but I had no recollection of leaving the car park or how long we had been travelling. I lifted my wrist to see the time and the entire sexual drama had taken barely ten minutes.

I looked at the back of Mister Anderson's head but he was unaware of the activity that had just taken place in the back seat of his car. I had given his wife an orgasm and she had returned the compliment. It hardly seemed possible.

Not only had I felt my first pussy but it belonged to my girlfriend's mother. It had been real sex and she had enjoyed it. Okay so it hadn't been proper intercourse and I was still a virgin, but it was a start.

I felt almost religious and whispered, "Thank you God." I seriously thought about accompanying them to their church the very next Sunday and thanking him officially.

The car was pulling into their driveway and I had a serious problem. The insides of my trousers were a bit messy and by now had probably developed into a dark patch on the outside. There was no way I could accept an invitation to enter their house and I had to get home quickly.

Before the car had stopped moving I had the door open and was out. I poked my head back in and said, "Thank you Mister and Mrs Anderson, it has been a wonderful evening but I must go. I have some serious studying to do."