The Day I Was Introduced To The Naked Virgin Mary. Sadly I Was No Angel Gabriel! ~ Peter Stone

It was October 1971 when I first met the Virgin Mary.

Geoff’s flat was still the den of iniquity it had always been with Geoff, Susan, Debra and me sharing. The duties were equally apportioned and we were all pretty good at ensuring the place was spick and span during our appointed weeks. Even the girls agreed that us two boys kept the place as clean as they did. I didn’t know it at the time, but this would put me in good stead for when I moved to Newcastle with the company I now worked for and where I would have my own apartment.

[Just a reminder that all of our stories are true unless clearly marked ‘Fiction‘. Names and some locations have been changed. Read the Back Story to understand us better. As some of these events took place a long time ago, dialogue has had to be reconstructed and some elements of stories have been changed to make them more readable. However, no substantial changes have been made to the story’s integrity in the process.]

My sex life was phenomenal. Both Susan and Debra were ready companions, each enjoying my company on a non-exclusive basis. Susan was actually in love with Geoff, but he was truly dreadful to her – not abusive or violent, but he cared nothing for her deep love for him and quite often hurt her badly when he brought other girls home without any warning. As far as I went, both Susan and Debra knew it was a non-exclusive deal. We made love with each other from time to time and it was not that unusual for them both to crawl into my king-size bed on cold nights during the winter. Sometimes the sex was exhausting, but it was quite common for nothing to happen other than some cuddling when they were both there. The trouble was that we often ended up laughing, joking and them giggling. The proximity and nakedness of warm desirable bodies had the inevitable results. We all loved it and it carried on for a couple of years. Occasionally, of course, I would have a more permanent relationship so the girls were dumped, but they didn’t mind. It was all taken in good spirit and, of course, there were times when they were both going steady and I was the one who slept in the cold. Fortunately those were rare nights, I didn’t have to sleep alone very often.

Nevertheless, on party nights we were all our own masters. The continual and unending stream of nubile girls kept me totally satisfied. Vagina-hopping split fairly evenly with mutual oral was the order of most of these events.

I remember one cold and wet day in October ’71 when I spotted a girl I’d not seen before in a lesbian clinch with a regular, Monica. I happened to be standing with Geoff, who had his arm around Susan during one of their ‘love affair is on’ occasions. Suze had a bra on and nothing else, while Geoff was naked. I was wearing a pair of running shorts because I’d been showing someone out who was a bit the worse for wear and we had a no-nudity rule outside the flat door. Not fair on the neighbours.

“Who’s the little girl with the Cilla hairstyle?” I asked.

She was very short, slim, but perfectly in proportion and had her hair in a distinctly Cilla Black style with the two sides pointing forward. Both Monica and the girl were naked, standing, with their thighs between each others, moving rhythmically to the music. I guessed there was some mutual clit stimulation taking place. They were both kissing full on.

“Oh. She’s the Virgin Mary,” said Geoff.

I laughed, “How did she get a name like that?” as I watched the girls’ motions.

“Go get a a fuck and you’ll find out,” Geoff laughed back at me.

“He’s winding you up, Peter,” said Suze, “You’re better off with Monica.”

That certainly spiked my curiousity. I’d just made my mind up to go and sit with another regular girlfriend, Jane, on the couch when Monica and Mary’s clinch seemed to be breaking up. They stood apart, each with hands on the other’s shoulders, looking into each other’s eyes. I wondered if I could step in.

Never shy, I wandered over to them, coming up alongside Mary, and casually put my arm around her shoulders in a non-proprietorial manner. I remember thinking how warm she felt, but we always had the heating on high during orgy-parties.

As I approached I’d quickly cast my eyes over Mary. She had lovely pert breasts. Small, just as I liked them. Her legs, despite her being very short, maybe no more than five feet tall, were perfectly formed and totally in proportion to the rest of her extremely sexy and slender body. Her eyes flashed up at me as she felt my arm encircle her. Dark brown and exceedingly alive as we looked deeply into each other’s gaze, then she looked me up and down as I’d done her before I came across.

“I’m Monica’s Peter,” I said quietly while Monica giggled and stretched across to kiss my cheek. Her hand ran down my flank. At least I knew if I got nowhere with Mary, I’d be able to get a good fuck with Monica. She was always game on these nights.

“Oh, I may have heard of you,” the new girl said.

Monica slid her hand around my bum and said, “Why do I get the feeling you’re not interested in me tonight, but my friend, Stone?”

“Monica, I’m always interested in you, but like to welcome new visitors to the flat, too. You going to introduce me?”

“Maria, meet Peter. A really good shag, but better known for being the fastest tongue in the west!”

“Oh, that Peter!” and she laughed.

“Someone told me you were Mary. So it’s Maria?”

The Virgin MaryBoth girls creased up, doubling over. I saw the lovely skin on Maria’s back and her breasts hanging downwards as the two girls giggled and laughed. After a few seconds they both stood back up and faced me, arms around each other, breaking my connection with Maria’s shoulders. I had these two goddesses staring at me and linked one to the other.

Monica said, “Yes, she’s the Virgin Mary,” and laughed again.

“Now how do you keep a name like that when you’re visiting this flat in particular?” I asked with a giggle, “Especially with a reprobate like Monica with you.”

She was about to answer, but Monica jumped in, “She loves sex, Peter. Adores it, but won’t fuck, so you’ll be out of luck tonight, Peter dear,” and laughed again.

I frowned, looked at Maria and said, “Don’t understand.”

She looked me square in the eyes and said, “I don’t believe in sexual intercourse before marriage, but anything else goes.”

“You serious?” I asked, amazed that she should be at one of our orgies. On the sofa to our right I could see Susan now astride Geoff, fucking his balls off.

There was never embarrassment at our orgies, or if there was it didn’t last long. When we had a party there was full sex, blow jobs, cunnilingus, anal sex and more going on all around the lounge and, if bedroom doors were unlocked, in and on the beds, too. The sounds emanating from Geoff made it perfectly obvious he was about to come and Susan seemed fairly close as well. Mind you, it was all respectful and consential. Anyone could say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ at any time and it was a rule of the house that it was instantly complied with. Geoff, Susan, Debra and I were the house police and it was rare we had to evict anyone for not behaving. It was, of course, also very rare for ‘stop’ or ‘no’ to ever be used either. Most of us and our guests were pretty liberal with our favours. I must also emphasise that it was mutual. The girls enjoyed it as much as us men. They were almost all on the pill and venereal disease was extremely rare in our age group in the early seventies. How could Mary want to stay a virgin in this hot environment?

“Perfectly serious. I’m up for anything except penetration. End of.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or be serious. This was so unusual.

“Oh,” I said.

“So I should be the virgin Maria, but it seemed funnier when they called me the Virgin Mary. It’s true though. I am something unique in this house. A genuine virgin, and proud of it. Bet I’m the only one in here,” at which Monica laughed.

Monica added, “But she can enjoy your tongue. Try his tongue, Maria,” and she laughed again, “You won’t regret it and neither will you,” she added turning her gaze upon me.

Maria’s hand disappeared into my shorts and found my unusually, not very aroused member, “Mmh,” she said, “not much going on in here. Bit disappointing really!”

“You’ve caught me off my guard,” I said quickly as I sensed the blood flowing into my penis within her grasp.

“Fancy a cuddle?” she asked, firmly working her hand up and down my quickly revitalising erection.

“Absolutely,” I replied.

“Don’t worry, Peter,” Monica whispered jokingly, “when she’s finished with you, you can come fuck me senseless on the fireside rug if you’ve got anything left to give.”

I kissed Monica on the lips, and turned feeling Maria swapping hands in my shorts, I curled my left hand around her bum and caressed her buttocks. 

“Comfy bed in my room,” I said and she nodded. “See you later Mon,” I said as we headed to my room. I put the snib up on the door so we wouldn’t be disturbed, turned to the Virgin Mary, pulled her to me and gave her a deep kiss, which quickly developed into a delightful snog. Her lips were soft, warm, moist and her tongue like an animated sliver of joy, darting and licking around mine. She was truly lovely.

As we kissed and hugged, I noticed her hands sliding down my sides to my shorts where they began to pull them over my hips.

She broke off the kiss, “Why were you wearing these?”

“I had to see someone off in the hallway and some of our neighbours wouldn’t be too pleased if I did that naked,” I replied and she giggled, slipping them down my legs where they pooled around my ankles.

She stood back, looked at my erection, which was now full on, took it in both hands and said, “Nice.”

I pulled her towards the bed and she stopped me.

“Ground rules first, sorry. No matter how clear I make it, boys seem to find it hard to understand, so I apologise for having to make my rules clear again.”

We stopped, she kissed me briefly on the lips then continued, “It was not a joke out there.”

“The virgin bit?”

“Yes. It is serious. Strictly no penetration of any type, Peter. You must promise and when I say no penetration I mean no penetration – no penis, no fingers, no toys, nothing. Do you promise?”

“I promise,” I said, reached down and ran two fingers along her vulva. It was plumped, wet and aroused from whatever she’d been doing with Monica.

“That okay?” I asked.

“Oh, more than that. Seriously, anything except putting anything, anything at all, in my vagina. Right?”

“Right. But how do you square what’s going on here with your religious beliefs?”

“I’m a Christian and I believe I should keep myself pure for my husband. That means no bits of anyone’s bodies getting inside my vagina. It’s very simple really. On my wedding night my husband will be the first person to ever penetrate me. It is important to me. Okay?”

“And you don’t think he’ll mind if you’ve had cunnilingus and given fellatio?”

“No. I’ll still be a genuine virgin for him. You understand?”

“Yes,” I agreed and tugged her onto the bed where we rolled over a couple of times ending up with me lying between her legs. I could feel the heat of her vulva on my glans. This was going to be difficult.

“Damn it, Maria. This will not be easy. You feel so good.”

“I know. It is not actually easy for me either. I can feel you there and I know all you need to do is push.”

“So, why not?”

“Because if you do, there will be police here in short measure. I will call rape and, believe me, I will have you prosecuted and imprisoned. Don’t even think of it. Comprenez? Everyone knows I make my rules clear. You can’t claim you misunderstood or it was accidental. Are we clear?”


“I’m serious.”

“Maria. I promise I will not push, but I’d bloody well like to. I can control my desires, however.”

I was starting to worry this was going to be a poor encounter. She’d been so emphatic about the penetration that I was worrying we might as well not bother doing anything at all. I decided to shrug the concern off and continue to caress and cuddle her as if nothing had happened to spoil the event.

I lifted myself off her to one side and brought my right hand down to her mons, a really pretty swelling which stood guard over the delights within. It was hard to imagine she was a virgin, yet allowing me to caress her like this. I curled my fingers into her vulva and compressed her labia gently, rhythmically as I let the heel of my palm begin tiny circular presses onto her clitoris. I could distinctly feel it, hard within its hood. Her hand found my erection and we both tenderly masturbated each other.

“Good?” I asked.

“Brilliant,” she replied, squeezing me tightly, “Honestly Peter, I love sex, arousal, climaxing and I’d also love to do more, but I stick to my rules. Your hand feels amazing, don’t stop.”

I felt much better about it now so I did stop the masturbation and began to slide down her body, kissing her right breast, running my tongue around her belly-button, kissing her mons, then I stood, pulled her to the edge of the bed and fell to my knees to worship her vulva.

First gentle kisses on the insides of each thigh as I pushed them back so that her entire sex was exposed. She held her thighs open, gripping her own ankles as I leaned in and delivered more delicate kisses along each of her outer labia, with their wispy hair. Maria didn’t shave, but her pubic hair was neat and pointed attractively southwards. I could see delicate inner lips protruding beautifully from this object of desire, her pink vestibule glistening with lubrication. To its rear, there it was, the proscribed entrance to her body. A tiny tangle of flesh with a tongue-like mound almost protruding from the opening plus the filigree of intimate components like her hymen remnants. I wondered how that had fragmented, perhaps tampons. This was the vagina which was to be saved for her wedding night. It was very pretty indeed and I admired her determination. I licked the entrance. I could instantly smell the scent of woman and tasted her strong, but wonderfully arousing lubrication. A tiny bead of milky fluid was being released from within which I quickly mopped up with my attentions. Extremely musky, almost, but not quite pungent. I ran my tongue from her vagina, extremely slowly over her inner flesh, across her urethral exit and pressed hard into the narrowing of the vulval valley as it approached the conjunction of those two delicate, perfectly matched, pink inner lips. I heard her give a tiny gasp as I stopped the upward motion. It was a gasp of pleasure, but perhaps tinged with regret that I’d not continued over the union of her lips and under her hood to find her clit.

The same long deliberate lick. The same joyful exclamation. Another lick. A joyous moan of pleasure.

“That is so nice, Peter,” she whispered as the fingers of one hand descended from their leg raising duties to find their way into my hair, holding me to her body while the free thigh flopped gracefully in the air. The backs of her thighs were simply delicious to look at and touch.

On the next lap I continued, passing over the sensitive merging point of her inner lips and on to the hard bulb of her clitoris. God, it was big. Not as big as Jillian’s but a good 1.5 centimetres long and almost as round as my pinky tip. I didn’t linger on it, but sensed her breathing stop as I passed the length of my tongue tenderly across it before pushing it into and under the fold of her prepuce where there was a less musky flavour. She’d used perfume on her mons and it filled my head. Quality scent adding so much to my experience.

“Lovely,” she whispered as I repeated the caress. I wondered if she was vocal about her enjoyment to ensure she encouraged me after being so firm about her rules.

Back to her vagina, the tip of my tongue doing a miniscule tour of the delightful, but labyrinthine mess of fleshiness. I circled it once, twice, three times and more until it encouraged another of those strong flavoured ejections from the interior from which I was forever barred.

After five or six laps I suddenly ran my tongue rapidly along the length of her sex and over her clitoris again causing a sharp intake of breath in her and a substantial moan.

I used my central finger to pull her prepuce hard away from her sex and held it against her mons and utilised my index and third fingers to spread it widthwise. With her legs wide apart, her clitoris now sat like a single pea in a featureless, stretched and glistening plain of dark pink flesh with the taut labia attached. My lips closed upon its smoothness, avoiding direct contact with the button itself. Slowly I began to close my lips upon it and tried to lift it with them. A small cry accompanied the motion and ended as it slipped from my grasp. I wet my lips. Another open mouth over the area, closing my lips anew and trying to lift the bead with my kiss. More cries of pleasure and two cries of yes.

Now my tongue began its more familiar motions, starting from her urethra and onto the clitoris, concentrating increasingly upon the tiny nub itself, circling it rapidly, then flicking side to side, up and down, back to the licks. All of the time I was trying to discover her sweet spot. All girls’ clitorises have one side or edge which is more sensitive than the rest. Each time I hit the bottom left corner she seemed to enjoy it more. I began to concentrate just a little more in that area.

She wasn’t the quickest girl to come and I’d now been at my endeavours for close to half an hour, but there had been a distinct change in her breathing during the last minute or two and she’d gone extremely quiet. The breaths were coming more quickly. I could feel tension in her legs and body, a slight tremor from the effort of holding herself still so that the pleasure wouldn’t stop. Suddenly more cries of yes and Peter recommenced. More cries of faster, more cries of please, whimpers, my name, gasps, oh and ahs. I knew she was so close now it only needed the last effort. Her sounds were now almost a continual tiny moan as if in pain interspersed with the intakes of her breath. I wondered if she was like Jillian. If I grabbed her clitoris between my lips and sucked hard, like a love-bite, would it get the same reaction. Would she explode into a squirting orgasm? Only one way to find out. My tongue performed several hard licks against the bottom left side of her clit then I pushed my mouth really hard against her, pulled my lips into her clitoris pulled and sucked hard while rapidly licking the very tip, all the time gripping it between my lips and increasing the suction.

She cried out loud, moaned in a high-pitched tone and I felt her orgasm arrive. I could feel her clitoris trying its hardest to imitate my own glans at ejaculation. It was moving back and forth between my lips as my fingers found her vagina, not penetrating, but pressing against her lower vulva, feeling the rhythmic opening and closing of her amazing virginal maw.

She was releasing a rapid sequence of sort of “Hna, hna, hna,” sounds to accompany her contractions. There was a huge intake of breath and a relaxed sigh, a longer moan, seemingly of painful joy before, finally, an almost vibrating extended whimper of, “Oh,” which seemed to last five or six seconds, full of excited tremors within her voice.

As she seemed to be relaxing I felt a tiny squirt on my chin accompanied by a surprised cry. I released her clitoris to lick her ejaculate. It was just a tiny spurt and such a contrast to her musky lubrication, it was almost sweet.

I relaxed my grip on her prepuce, allowing it to come down over her clitoris as I tenderly licked the length of her vulva, gently chewing each of her inner labia in turn with my lips and circling the mysterious opening to the forbidden area she was keeping sacrosanct for a yet to be chosen husband.

It was over.

“Oh, Peter, wonderful. Wonderful. Truly wonderful. Now I know what Monica was on about,” her hands caressed through my hair and she whispered, “come up.”

I got back onto the bed alongside her and pulled her across onto my body so that we could kiss. I could feel my erection almost in her vulva again and she moved sideways so that it was pressed against her hip. I wondered if this was for safety in case I was leaking pre-cum or if it was that she couldn’t trust herself not to complete the sex act. I’d never know.

“So, Virgin Mary, what do I get out of this relationship,” I laughed.

“Can you see a bright star in the east?” she laughed. “You’ll find out soon, but I want some more kissing and cuddling first. This is so lovely and so comfortable.”

We continued to kiss. Her laying half on, half off me and my hands gripping her bum tightly, enjoying her buttocks’ marvellous soft squidginess and warmth. Her thighs straddled one of mine and she was rocking casually against it. I guessed her clitoris was being stimulated by my leg and left her to continue as long as she wished.

Eventually she rolled off to my left and her hand took my penis affectionately within its grasp. She changed position to sit cross-legged beside me so that she could hold me in both hands. Her fingers were so delicate and within minutes I was ready to explode. It was then, when she recognised the extent of my arousal, that she slowed the action almost to a stop.

Her left hand held my shaft tightly at its very bottom, totally circling it, gripping and releasing about every half second. God it felt good.

Her right hand circled me above the first, making its way upwards until it had my foreskin covering my glans. Two or three fingers then slowly pulled the skin backwards, her other hand increasing its grip and pulling downwards, too, so that the maximum amount of my flesh was exposed as I’d done to her prepuce.

Now one finger caressed across my glans. Extremely slowly, taking three or four seconds to make the move from one side to the other. Next a gossamer touch on the very tip where it was joined by a second finger, both holding my urethra open before squeezing hard, releasing and beginning to stroke around my glans and corona.

“Good?” she asked.

“Amazing,” I could only just reply as, frankly, I was so close to coming I was expecting to finish any second.

She continued these tiny caresses over and over again, for, I swear to God, at least half an hour. I had propped pillows behind my head and was watching her making me create a continual release of pre-cum. Each time it became a bead, she collected the crystal clear liquid and passed it to her lips, making an “mmh” sound as she tasted it.

I was being tortured. I whispered “Please,” several times and she just giggled and carried on exactly as she was.

I was desperate and told her so. My cock was totally filled with the burning desire to ejaculate, but was failing to get the final stimulation to complete. A wonderful experience. It is one of those incredible times when you want to come, but simultaneously want to stay in this state of total anticipation of impending release. Is it torture or is it excrutiating pleasure?

“I have a hand-job fetish,” she whispered, “and I’m not ready to end it for you yet.”

She collected another slightly milkier bead of liquid pre-cum on her fingertip, but this time transferred it to my lips. I could smell and taste its strength. I knew I must be releasing semen within my pre-cum, I was so, so close. I just kept asking her to finish me. Please, please, please, “Maria, please,” I cried.

Coming is not just from stimulation. Much of it is mental and she’d stopped almost all touching now. Her left hand had held my lower shaft firmly while the index finger of her right was running oh, so, slowly, from under my fraenulum, delicately over the very top and down to the ridge of my glans on the other side. It then returned equally slowly, sometimes circling my corona with her fingernail running under the ridge. I could feel a continual flow of pre-cum coating my glans now. Heaven on earth! I didn’t know the bliss of approaching orgasm could be extended so much.

“Maria, Maria,” I cried suddenly as her fingernail scraped under my corona causing an immediate intensification of the sensations in my glans, forcing them to join with the almost unbearable ache in my shaft and their unstoppable message was telegraphed to my prostate at the speed of light.

Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my God. I exploded with the most amazing climax. I heard her laughing at me. I shut my eyes as I saw semen ejected skywards and felt it land on my forehead, eyelids, my cheek, my lips, more wet warmth on my chest, tummy and still it came, erupting like a lava stream, pumping over her hands which now both held me almost in a death grip, milking the last of my essence from my exhausted penis as my torturer giggled at the sheer amusement of her tortuous exploits from her perspective.

My chest heaved with the exertion of having done virtually nothing except to have produced a stream of semen to her command.

I felt her release me and seconds later her tongue cleared my eyelids and licked my cheek. I opened my eyes to see her smiling face. She whispered, “Well? Any good?”

“Maria. That was amazing. Truly incredible.”

“Was it worth waiting for?” she laughed.

I agreed and lay quietly, my chest still heaving as I recovered.

She picked up the bedside tissues and began to clean me up.

“Sink,” I said, pointing at the wash basin in the corner of the room.

I watched this lithe, stunningly tiny, virgin girl with the perfect body, walk over to the basin and wash her hands. She came back with a warm flannel and finished cleaning me off as I began to recover from my experience.

Peter Stone's post orgasmic cuddle with the Virgin MaryWe cuddled up together on the bed, her thigh resting across my tummy, her head in the crook of my arm and each with one hand holding the other’s, caressing our fingers, winding down from a mutually enjoyable experience. I couldn’t believe I could feel so fulfilled without having made love, but then, this was lovemaking, but by her rules. We spoke quietly, words of joy of what we’d both experienced, turning towards and kissing each other from time to time. So sated, so incredible and such amazing fun.

My sexual encounter with the Virgin Mary had been angelic. I hoped her eventual husband was worthy of her bonded vagina.

Peter Stone, 16th December 2015