Taking His Virginity

“So let me just organize this in my head again…you left the priesthood six months ago?”

Across the table from me Gabriel nodded, his dark curls falling over one green eye rimmed in thick lashes. His hand reached up and tucked the offending locks behind his ear, smiled warmly at me through candlelight. Fuck. 

“And you’ve been attempting to date for three months?”

Again the head bob, the wildly sexy hair-eye-hand thing. 

“And you’ve never…?”


“Never had…”

His green eyes wavered in meeting mine, lids lowered, long lashes casting elegant shadows over his cheeks in the dim light. 

“Never been intimate. No. That’s against our vows. I was raised in the Catholic Church, very traditional Italian Orthodox  – weeping statues, incense, people in robes chanting Latin – you know the type. I decided I wanted to go into the priesthood when I was very young, just out of high school. My mom was ecstatic, oh my gos…h? Oh my god. Sorry, still getting used to the fact that I can say ‘Oh my god’ now and not feel terrible. Anyway, you should have seen her. She sent handwritten letters to every member of our extended family with the news. So I went to a Catholic college, entered seminary right when I graduated. The whole time I had my vows in mind, so you know, there wasn’t much regular life time when I would have…”

“Fucked around?” I grinned, teasing him. 

He flushed at first, a little bite of pink rising in his cheeks. I worried I had offended him, revealed my secular potty mouth too quickly. But thankfully he laughed and shook his head in a dogged, well you got me kind of way, sending his curls bouncing. I really was feeling taken by him. This was our second date – a Tinder match. The first time we got together we went to a local wine bar where he vented about the culture shock of dating aps in a cute, adorably ignorant kind of way. I couldn’t imagine! Suddenly waking up in 2019 and deciding you wanted to date for the first time ever, and those are your options – Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, heaven forbid an IRL number swap. What’s a fallen priest to do?

I was the third woman he’d met up with. Gabriel told me he’d been up front about his virginity with the previous two, and they’d ghosted him after initial dates. He worried his lack of experience made him a pariah, marked him as unsexy and woefully behind the curb. This sent a shudder of anger through me. How dare anyone make assumptions about a person based on who they had or hadn’t slept with? I myself hadn’t done anything sexual – not even oral! – until I was twenty-five, and the shame I’d felt projected my way by others was all too real. But it had been my choice. And now, thirty and flirty and thriving, I was slutting it up and loving every minute of it. There are many modes of sexual liberation. 

We were two glasses of red in, and Gabriel was showing me that Catholic priests know a thing or two about wine. 

“Did you know that some family vineyards in Tuscany still have original vines – fruiting vines! – that were planted hundreds of years ago? Isn’t that wild! Gnarled hundred-year-old vines still producing fruit! Hope I can say the same about myself at that age.” He winked at me over the rim of his glass as he took a sip. His sense of humor was, granted, a touch dad-like. But he’d basically sequestered himself from the zeitgeist for the past two decades. I could handle him needing some time to catch up. 

I decided two glasses was enough. I was feeling buzzed and confident, but not drunk. Regardless of anything further happening between us later, I didn’t want to loose track of the details in spending time with him. The softness of his palms and the way he rubbed them together while deep in thought, as though he were holding them in prayer. The gentle smell of incense that still seemed to linger on the heavy sweaters he wore, all these months later. The way he held his chin and ruffled his brow before answering a question. I wanted to remain lucid enough to keep track of every small thing that turned me on about him, because they were too numerous and satisfying to count. 



“Would you like to come back to my apartment with me? No pressure, no expectation. But I’m having fun talking to you, and I’d love to keep this date going if you’re down.”

He smiled, wide lips parting in a sheepish grin. God, what I’d love those lips to do to me…

“That sounds great.”

Back at my studio we sat beside each other on my couch, his palm in my lap, me massaging the soft center of it. The finger of his left hand traced down my forearm, his right was tangled in my curls, holding the back of my head. He drew my head in towards his, cinched the hair in his hand tightly, tilting my skull backward. Alright. This guy had a bit of finesse. That was hot. 

Me: “Can I kiss you?”

And his mouth was enveloping mine, his lips, oh god his lips, plush and velveteen, swollen and hot against my own. I pulled back, flicked my tongue out, teasing him to come back for more. And when he dip I gave a gentle nip, just a moment of his lip between my teeth, and then I caved. Swallowed him again. 

His tongue pushed into my mouth, greedy. He whirled it around in wide strokes and I had to take a breath, place one finger over his mouth, whisper, “Easy. You’re not trying to dig to China in there. Here, I like it like this.” And I leaned into him again, traced the slit of his lips gently with my tongue, stopped, brushed my lips over his, smiling, until I felt him smile too. Kissed him softly.

“Kissing is ridiculous.” He laughed, mouth still pressed against mine.

“I know,” I said in between biting and sucking lightly on his lower lip, “weird animal shit. But god, you feel and taste amazing.” 

He moved away from my mouth, began to work towards my neck and lingered there, kissing up and down the length of it, burrowing his head against my shoulder, tracing my throat with his tongue.

“This part of you is…I just…wow.”

“I know.” I decided to help him out. “Necks.” I pulled back and looked at him for a moment, holding his face between my hands. I brushed that stubborn curl out of his eyes. “This feels okay, right? It’s not moving too quickly?” 

In response he maneuvered his arm behind my back, at once reclining me backwards on the sofa and pulling me down so my body was stretched out fully. He arced over me, hands in my hair, hands brushing against my neck, hands moving down. Gabriel looked at me, full green eyes serious and unblinking.

“Anna, I want to.” 

I reached and pulled his shirt up over his head, revealing a deep V of chest hair. It tapered to a slim trail of fuzz that ended above the nook of his pants. His belly hung slightly soft from his abdomen, and I cupped it with my hand. I loved having something to grab onto. God. He was so fucking hot to me. It was then I noticed the crucifix, a diminutive charm hanging from a thread of gold chain. It winked in the light, dangling demurely from around his neck. 


“I know.” He seemed self conscious, and I immediately regretted saying anything. He continued, “It’s just habitual, you know. I haven’t taken it off in fifteen years. I can’t really imagine doing that. Not yet.” And I took him by that crucifix and yanked him down to me, crushed my mouth against his and worked my t-shirt off while bucking against him. 

He fumbled with the latch of my bra while burrowing between the peaks of my breasts. I wondered, had he ever been this close to another body? What was his body telling him right now, what kind of nerve zaps and adrenaline signals? He was making slow, guttural growling sounds that seemed as is they were coming from some untapped carnal depths. Almost inhuman, those sounds. 

I reached around and helped him, releasing my pert titties into his waiting hands, and for a moment he sat back, eyes wide, just staring, drinking me in. His hands were immobile, and he held them rigid above my breasts, palms barely grazing the swell of my nipples. Arms stretched out and hands floating, it looked as though he were blessing me. Was I imagining a single tear pooling in the corner of one eye? Straddling me, I could feel his erection, and with my hips I rose up into it, grinding softly against his jeans. He visibly shivered. 

Not breaking eye contact I slowly unbuckled his belt, letting it snap in my hands as I pulled the length of it from around his waist. I threw it to the side, still meeting his eyes. His mouth was slightly parted, his breathing coming in panting, eager bursts. 

I told him, “Take your pants off.” And I watched, eye contact unwavering as he did as I said. “And those too.” I pointed to his boxers. As much as I wanted to stare as his rigid cock sprung skyward, I didn’t waver. I reclined back on the couch, arms lengthening over my head and back arcing in a cat-like stretch. “And now,” I said, “come sit on my face.”

Gabriel obeyed instantly, though it seemed clear he wasn’t quite confident in how the whole physics of it would work. He hesitated, cock hovering over my head, until I took his hardness in my hand and said, “Don’t worry. You won’t hurt me. I’ll be in control,” and he lowered himself onto my waiting tongue. 

I began with his sac. Tongue twirling in slow, circular motions. I lapped up the seam of him, took him entirely in my mouth and sucked, hard, but only for as long as I was sure he could take it. My hands ran upwards and held his belly, squeezing, pinching, then backwards and along his ass. I slipped one finger down and gently circled his asshole. He moaned. 

I was swallowing his cock, at turns taking all of it, and pulling him out, taking the time to suck only on his swollen head and graze my teeth against the skin pulled taut there. Gabriel was so hard it looked painful, his tip blooming scarlet with the rush of blood. A slight trail of precum caught the light and stuck to my lip as I pulled away. Beautiful spider’s web. 

Again, unblinking eye contact, “Do you want to be inside of me?”

He nodded furiously, responded with one of those strange animal sounds, and crawled downward before settling at my waiting pussy. My legs were spread as far as they would go, my cunt swollen and clit hard with desire. He took one finger and dipped it into the wet pool at the center of me, traced it along my slit and clit and inner thighs. 

“I feel like I’m painting.” And he bent in, hungrily ate at my smutty well. Of course he had never done this before, and his maneuvering wasn’t perfect. But the way his back shuddered with bliss, eyes rolling back in his head with pleasure? That was fucking hot. He ground his face into me, shaking it back and forth, up and down, until my lips had coated his cheeks and chin and forehead with a pearlescent smear of cum. He pulled his head up, ran his hand through his hair, heaving, catching his breath.

“Anna. I think I’m finally seeing God.”

I had never wanted another person more. 

I pulled him up by his hair, kissed him fiercely in a teeth knocking, bone splitting kind of way, sucked at his very soul. I reached down and stroked him for a moment, then, when I was sure he couldn’t bear it any longer, guided his cock to my opening and led him in. He hesitated for a moment, his tip pushing gingerly at the layers of my skin, before burying himself in me with one concentrated thrust.

I watched Gabriel’s face, curious. So this was his first time. A deflowering! Part of me took delight in what small role I was playing in his corruption. A low, steady groan began from what sounded like the pit of his stomach. A place that no doubt, had never been accessed in quite this way before. His eyes were closed, lips parted, and the groan gained momentum as he began to pump in and out of me. He held my legs up in the air beside his face, turned to the side and licked one calf, began rubbing his cheek against it. The crucifix bounced lightly against his chest, every now and then catching the light and reflecting a small beam skywards. His groan was escalating, becoming something more unhinged and wanton. The only other time I’d heard a sound like it was while listening to Gregorian chant. Was he a fan? I made a mental note to ask him about that later. 

I looked down and took in the sight of him, his stiff cock lacquered with a sheen of my cum, as he slid in and out of me. My pussy was beautiful wrapped around him, and together we looked floral, alien, perfect. A rush of longing charged through me, and I wanted him harder, faster. I pulled him off of the couch where we sprawled against the wood floor, knees and bones knocking together and against hard ground. I flipped him so I was on top and turned around, rode him ass backwards to give him a view he wouldn’t forget. 

Gabriel gripped my ass cheeks, pumping me on top of him. He licked his thumb and began tracing the top of my crack, slowly edging downwards until he was circling my asshole, teasing me every so often with some slight pressure. 

I invited him to.

“Do you want to…slip a finger inside?”

“Inside your…?” 

I looked backwards, observed his blushing.

“Yeah. I think it feels amazing.” 

 I could tell this turned him on immensely. 

“I want to do anything that gets you off.”

I grinned. “Careful with that. We just met, I don’t want to scare you right off the bat. We’ll warm up to some of the other things. For now, just…”

But I didn’t have to finish. He licked his index finger, teased my opening, slid it slowly inside.

“Ohhh, that’s just right.” I shuddered. His cock was a hot steel rod, my pussy was fire, how were we not creating waves of steam? He finger fucked me in the ass, gently adding one more digit, and I rode him with my hips rolling deliberately, languidly, over his shaft. I felt his cock pushing against the inside of me from one direction, and his fingers from another, the force of the two conjoining into one twisted tunnel of pressure, pleasure, please me. I felt so keenly aware of my velvet insides, our mutual slickness, the heat we were making. 

Suddenly he pulled out of me, and a momentary sensation of hollowness took my breath away. He bent me forward on all fours, and leaned in to taste me. Gabriel ate my ass, feverishly, religiously. His tongue darted in and out of my taut hole, and lapped at my crease. He reached around my front and massaged that part of me, working my clit with his soft priest’s fingers. I moaned. What was that sound? I had never made a sound quite like that before.  

My clit was a satin nub between his fingers and I bucked against him, encouraging his stroking. An orgasm was beginning to brew deep inside me, the waves of pleasure coming deeper, warmer. His tongue was still lapping, and every so often he paused and blew gently on my ass, cooling the skin and sending shivers knocking down my spine. But his fingers never stopped. I reached back and cupped my hand over his, guiding his rhythm and helping him bring me to the brink. When I could feel myself getting close I flipped over, sprawled against the floor with legs spread and guided his mouth to my pussy. I could feel my insides throbbing, that pulse spreading out across my labia and centering at my clit, swelling outwards, retracting back in. Fuck I needed to come. It wouldn’t take much.

I told him, “Softly,” and Gabriel obediently bent his neck and worked his tongue in slow, gentle circles around my clit. Every so often he would suck, and just when the nerves were building towards release, he’d let go, continue his measured licking. It was perfect, just what I needed. A molten warmth was pooling in the core of my body, spilling outwards and through my sex. The pulsing was growing in intensity, stronger, hotter. I came buckling against his face, my hips arcing up in a spastic twitch. I clenched my thighs around his head, and as the wave of my orgasm rode me I rode him. My body collapsed limply against the floor, legs spread eagle and heart racing. I closed my eyes, hand over my chest, laughing. 

“I can’t feel the lower half of my body. Holy shit, Gabriel. You sure you’ve never done that before?”

I looked down at him, observed my thighs glistening with cum. 

He was shaking his head back and forth, a loose, daffy smile spreading over his face. He laughed too. He held up his hands, spreading his fingers, observing. They were covered with cum, and in the amber light of my living room lamp his hands looked iridescent. 

“I didn’t know I could…come…so hard just from pleasuring another person?”

“Did you?” I asked.

“Yeah, I think right as you did. I couldn’t hold it back anymore, like some other force was working through my body.” He looked dazed and exhausted, his face glimmering with my wet. I sat up and held his head between my hands, kissed him. I traced my tongue over his chin, tasting myself there. 

“How does it feel, sinner?” I pinched one nipple lightly, teasing him. 

His green eyes caught mine, black lashes flashing as he blinked. 

“I feel…reborn.”

I giggled. “Did I just baptize you with my pussy?”

Gabriel blushed, hand running through his hair. He leaned toward me and traced one finger over my shoulder, let it run downward and over a nipple. I caught my breath as I felt it harden against his touch.

“I think you might have.”