He Followed Jesus... Into My Bed (CHAPTER 3)
(THIS IS CHAPTER 3! DON'T READ THIS UNTIL YOU'VE READ CHAPTER 2! THANKS!)
John sauntered into my modest hut. He wore a semi-formal suit of foreign finery including a strange but elegant upper-body belt he called a "neck tie", and in his left hand was a bottle of red wine covered in dewy condensation. He approached me after gingerly closing the door behind him and kissed me on the cheeks, the custom of our people. The scent of expensive musk told me that he had the same idea for tonight that I did, so as I leaned in to kiss him I permitted my now-blossoming love buds to touch his chest. Using my strong peasant feet I repeatedly raised myself to tiptoes and lowered myself again, subtly rubbing my womanly bounty against him and hopping that he could feel my rock-hard nipples scraping against him. He seemed not to notice, but a twinkle in his cobalt blue eyes assured me that he'd received the subliminal message.
"Good evening," John claimed as he set the wine down on the dinner table. His blondish hair sparkled in the candlelight. Dashingly, he pulled out my chair and pushed it in for me after I sat down. Then he pulled out his own chair and sat down. Then he scooted in under the table. All the while his eyes blazed with intensity. "You look beautiful tonight," he blurted gracefully with a laugh. I felt the blood rush to my face and.......... elsewhere.
"You look nice too, John," I responded, "Or should I call you Apostle, since you've dressed so formally?" "I'm just plain old John tonight," he answered, "It's my night off." Our eyes met and a literally sparked with attraction. I looked away coyly. Things were happening so fast!
"This is a very good wine," John commented, changing the subject. "It's from a place I visited called France, a land well known for its fine vineries. I've been saving it for a special occasion."
"Special?" I shot back as I served the pasta and he poured the wine. "Why, we're just two old friends having a little dinner. I would have thought that your exotic excursions all over the globe would have presented lots of... romantic moments to share this exquisite bottle." I didn't want to hear about those moments, yet I had to ask. How could he care about a plain, responsible schoolgirl after meeting so many beautiful women who hadn't even heard the good news of Jesus Christ and didn't know about purity and chastity?
"It's true, I've had this bottle for a long time," John pondered, gazing out the window. Then he turned to meet my own longing gaze. "During all of my travels, I waited and saved it for a special evening. This evening. Nothing I've seen or felt has changed what the Holy Spirit told me when I was here. That my one destined love was Martha of Bethany." As he mentioned the Holy Spirit we both felt it appear just like the day of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-47). I walked hurriedly over to John's side of the table, and as he passionately kissed me, the Holy Spirit guided his hand to my right breast to zealously knead my right bosom and pinch my proudly upright nipple. I moaned in some heavenly, wonderful language and felt reassuring faith that John was the one, a faith as solid as the Old Maple Tree outside or the hot, turgid manhood I now cupped in my hand.
"Oh John, I always felt the same way about you, but it's only after seeing you after such a long absence that I realize my feelings were really part of God's plan and not just my own selfishness," I gasped.
"You?" John beamed as he stroked my hair with one hand and lovingly patted my compact bottom with the other. "You're the second-least selfish person I've ever met. While other girls were behaving like harlots to satisfy their gross desires, you knew the value of abstinence and patience." He smoothly swept all of the dishes off of the table with one graceful arc of his arm, laid me down on the table, and pulled my dress up over my pert bosoms. John took off his own shirt, revealing his lithe but muscly chest and bent over the table at the waist, settling his broad, chisled chest on top of mine.
Laying there almost naked, my body exposed for the first time ever on a hastily-cleared kitchen table, I felt both vulnerable but excited. As John's powerful tongue explored my mouth, as he tugged down my bra and lightly ran his fingertip along the inside of my thighs and up between my legs, I couldn't help feeling slightly sexual. "But, no," I thought to myself as I squeezed my trembling legs around John's manly, sensitive hand. "Jesus says that we should make love, not just have sex. Sex is such a wonderful and beautiful act that it always requires an excuse. And my excuse right now -- a good excuse that came from the Holy Spirit! -- is that John is my one destined Christian love. I can't let the devil trick me into thinking about sex right now when I'm trying to make love to my future husband!" As I made that decision in my own mind to resist the devil's temptation, I felt a comforting presence like an angel kissing me on the forehead telling me that I had won. I also felt something push into the virgin farmland between my legs like a hot broomhandle! I had passed Jesus's test for me, and my reward was a womb full of John the Apostle!
John sauntered into my modest hut. He wore a semi-formal suit of foreign finery including a strange but elegant upper-body belt he called a "neck tie", and in his left hand was a bottle of red wine covered in dewy condensation. He approached me after gingerly closing the door behind him and kissed me on the cheeks, the custom of our people. The scent of expensive musk told me that he had the same idea for tonight that I did, so as I leaned in to kiss him I permitted my now-blossoming love buds to touch his chest. Using my strong peasant feet I repeatedly raised myself to tiptoes and lowered myself again, subtly rubbing my womanly bounty against him and hopping that he could feel my rock-hard nipples scraping against him. He seemed not to notice, but a twinkle in his cobalt blue eyes assured me that he'd received the subliminal message.
"Good evening," John claimed as he set the wine down on the dinner table. His blondish hair sparkled in the candlelight. Dashingly, he pulled out my chair and pushed it in for me after I sat down. Then he pulled out his own chair and sat down. Then he scooted in under the table. All the while his eyes blazed with intensity. "You look beautiful tonight," he blurted gracefully with a laugh. I felt the blood rush to my face and.......... elsewhere.
"You look nice too, John," I responded, "Or should I call you Apostle, since you've dressed so formally?" "I'm just plain old John tonight," he answered, "It's my night off." Our eyes met and a literally sparked with attraction. I looked away coyly. Things were happening so fast!
"This is a very good wine," John commented, changing the subject. "It's from a place I visited called France, a land well known for its fine vineries. I've been saving it for a special occasion."
"Special?" I shot back as I served the pasta and he poured the wine. "Why, we're just two old friends having a little dinner. I would have thought that your exotic excursions all over the globe would have presented lots of... romantic moments to share this exquisite bottle." I didn't want to hear about those moments, yet I had to ask. How could he care about a plain, responsible schoolgirl after meeting so many beautiful women who hadn't even heard the good news of Jesus Christ and didn't know about purity and chastity?
"It's true, I've had this bottle for a long time," John pondered, gazing out the window. Then he turned to meet my own longing gaze. "During all of my travels, I waited and saved it for a special evening. This evening. Nothing I've seen or felt has changed what the Holy Spirit told me when I was here. That my one destined love was Martha of Bethany." As he mentioned the Holy Spirit we both felt it appear just like the day of Pentecost (Acts 2:1-47). I walked hurriedly over to John's side of the table, and as he passionately kissed me, the Holy Spirit guided his hand to my right breast to zealously knead my right bosom and pinch my proudly upright nipple. I moaned in some heavenly, wonderful language and felt reassuring faith that John was the one, a faith as solid as the Old Maple Tree outside or the hot, turgid manhood I now cupped in my hand.
"Oh John, I always felt the same way about you, but it's only after seeing you after such a long absence that I realize my feelings were really part of God's plan and not just my own selfishness," I gasped.
"You?" John beamed as he stroked my hair with one hand and lovingly patted my compact bottom with the other. "You're the second-least selfish person I've ever met. While other girls were behaving like harlots to satisfy their gross desires, you knew the value of abstinence and patience." He smoothly swept all of the dishes off of the table with one graceful arc of his arm, laid me down on the table, and pulled my dress up over my pert bosoms. John took off his own shirt, revealing his lithe but muscly chest and bent over the table at the waist, settling his broad, chisled chest on top of mine.
Laying there almost naked, my body exposed for the first time ever on a hastily-cleared kitchen table, I felt both vulnerable but excited. As John's powerful tongue explored my mouth, as he tugged down my bra and lightly ran his fingertip along the inside of my thighs and up between my legs, I couldn't help feeling slightly sexual. "But, no," I thought to myself as I squeezed my trembling legs around John's manly, sensitive hand. "Jesus says that we should make love, not just have sex. Sex is such a wonderful and beautiful act that it always requires an excuse. And my excuse right now -- a good excuse that came from the Holy Spirit! -- is that John is my one destined Christian love. I can't let the devil trick me into thinking about sex right now when I'm trying to make love to my future husband!" As I made that decision in my own mind to resist the devil's temptation, I felt a comforting presence like an angel kissing me on the forehead telling me that I had won. I also felt something push into the virgin farmland between my legs like a hot broomhandle! I had passed Jesus's test for me, and my reward was a womb full of John the Apostle!