("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
Archive name: erotica.txt (MMF, wife-sharing, exh)
Authors name: Ray (hoorayray@yahoo.com)
Story title : God Watches
------------------------------------------------------
-= This work is copyrighted to the author © 1999. =-
Please do not remove the author information or make
any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of
commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration.
------------------------------------------------------
As a devout Christian, this sort of thing (thinking
these thoughts, reading or much less writing such a
story) was never considered an option. I'd always
tried to minimize my sexual thoughts and fantasies.
Now, we (my wife and I) are discovering that God is
no prude, and that thoughtful, rational Christians
can enjoy sexuality to a much greater degree than
traditional, culture-bound teaching has taught us.
This, therefore, is a stab at "Christian erotica,"
with the understanding that the phrase is not an
oxymoron. Comments to hoorayray@yahoo.com are
welcome.
God Watches
by Ray (hoorayray@yahoo.com)
Adam and Eve had a great deal. They were "naked and
not ashamed." They would look at each other, absolutely
without embarrassment. They didn't care. They had an
intimacy that looked past the physical and embraced the
spiritual and emotional. Their physical love only
capped the closeness between them. They didn't have
sex, they made love. Theirs was a relationship modeled
for them by God Himself, based on a foundation of
honesty, communication, and acceptance.
We don't know what Adam and Eve looked like. We
shouldn't really care, because they didn't. They
probably didn't care about a lot of things. Like the
birds of the air, they didn't have to fret about food,
because everything they could ever desire was theirs
for the picking. Like the other animals, making love
in the garden was a beautiful, natural, sacred, public
and shared event. They could no doubt see the animals
practicing procreation, and their own lovemaking was
plain for all to see.
Maybe the animals didn't fully appreciate what they
saw, but God did. You see, God could see everything.
In fact, He invented it. Like everything God made, He
looked down and "saw that it was good." An artist
admiring His own excellent handiwork, I'm sure God
delighted in every one of His children's loving trysts
that He witnessed. God is a voyeur, the best possible
kind. God likes to watch; He likes to see His children
blessed. God loved Adam and Eve, Adam and Eve loved
God, and Adam and Eve loved each other. And God
watched.
God's character has not changed. He still sees all.
He still delights in seeing His children enjoying what
He has given for them to enjoy.
My wife and I love God; we also love each other. My
wife loves me with an incredibly generous, unselfish
love. She models God's graciousness to me, for she
delights in blessing me. She loves to make love to
me. And God watches.
I like to watch, too. It's an incredible turn-on for
me to see someone enjoying sex. Nothing is more
powerful, sexually, than seeing my wife aroused. And
it seems like nothing arouses her more than pleasuring
me. We've got a great deal! And I watch. And God
watches.
I love to watch her when she dresses up nice for a
special date. She puts on a sexy lacy bra, and a dress
that buttons all the way up the front. She starts with
it buttoned all the way, and is the demure mother of
three. We go out to a restaurant for dinner. We talk
about the schedule, about what God is teaching us,
about the kids. But as the dinner wears on, the top
buttons somehow slowly come open, showing her very
attractive cleavage.
Now, normally I'm a fairly focused thinker, and if I
want I can keep two or three different thoughts in my
head at the same time. But when I start to see her
tits like that, and a little of her push-up black bra,
most everything else leaves my head. I wonder, does
she know that she's distracting me in a heart-racing
way? It's the best kind of short-term mental vacation.
I'm not thinking about work, she's making me think
about something else. The very slow tease is a delight.
I watch and I wonder. And God watches, but doesn't
wonder at all.
I also watch those who watch her. I like it when I
catch other men watching her. It confirms my own good
taste. I see the way other men see her cleavage. I
catch the waiter at the restaurant, a nice looking
friendly guy from the nearby college, glancing down
her dress. I notice the man at the next table looking
over his own date's shoulder to see my wife, with the
tease of her tits. I wonder if they wonder, would
those breasts be as perfect uncovered as they seem
when covered? I know they are, the way they fit my
hands so perfectly, they way the nipples grow when I
kiss them, the way they stand out so firm when I tie
her up. I wonder if she wonders whether they see. She
pleases me with the sight of her breasts, she pleases
God by showing His excellent work. The waiter is
pleased, I can tell. She's a pleasing sight to every-
one. Does she know what a delight it is when she's
showing? Nothing to be ashamed of at all. She should
be like Eve in the garden, not ashamed.
Eventually, after dinner across from a perfect pair of
milky white breasts trying to spill out of her bra,
we'll take in a movie. During the movie, she'll lean
over and whisper "I'm not wearing any panties." A
button or two or more from the bottom of her dress
will "somehow" come undone. She'll take my hand, and
place it on her exposed thigh. Can anyone see us in
the darkened theater? We're a church-going couple,
and it's a church-going town; would we dare let anyone
else see into our private universe, to know just how
much we love? God knows; He watches. Who else watches
beside He and me? That man behind us?
I don't remember many details of the movie, because I
watch. And I know that God watches, and probably the
man at the end of the aisle. It's a dark theater, but
you can tell when a person's hand isn't in his own lap.
My hand is not in my own lap, and my wife's occasional-
ly reaches over to my lap. She gives a squeeze, and
she can tell my pleasure at what I see. I slowly,
gently stroke her thigh. Occasionally, I stroke higher
on her leg, pushing up her dress a little more each
time. Then, I can feel her pubes, the coarse kinky
hair that offers no protection from my probing fingers.
Now, she's getting wet and aromatic; I can tell her
pleasure. I give a long, slow stroke through her moist
mound, and lick my finger clean of her juices, smelling
and tasting my favorite perfume of all.
We both anticipate the eventual climax later in the
evening, but the public foreplay is so exciting!
Sometimes I wish I could step back and just watch, to
see this couple so in love, to see them aching to give
each other pleasure. I'd really like to watch some
more, but not the movie. I try to picture the picture
playing in that other guy's head. He surely can't be
thinking about the movie, not with this masterpiece of
art just down the aisle, escaped from a classical
painting.
The movie is over, we'll straighten our collars during
the credits. We'll stand up to go, while it's still
dark. I have to hide behind her, so my bulge won't be
so obvious. She'll give it a quick squeeze just the
same; did the guy down the aisle see that? God saw.
He likes to watch.
We'll head to the car, and decide where to go next.
There's a seclude park nearby; dare we go there? Like
high schoolers itching to fondle each other, but a
little worried about whether her father will discover
them making out. Actually, our Heavenly Father already
sees, and approves. We'll drive to the park, walk
nonchalantly around the track a turn or two, trying to
appear casual to another late night jogger. Then,
we'll head down a short embankment and lay on the
grass, our heads pointing up hill, our feet pointing
down.
Her dress will come completely open, and I'll kiss her
long and tenderly, my hands sliding up and down her
chest and belly, teasing but not touching her warmth.
Over the rushing sound of my blood in my ears, I can
barely hear the footsteps of the jogger heading around
the track.
In the nearly-gone light of the sliver of moon, my
wife's pale skin takes on the faintest glow of pearl.
I reach under her, undo her bra clasps, and push up her
bra, exposing her pink nipples. They are erect, but
whether from cold or thrill I can't tell. I love to
watch her. And I know God can watch, too, if He wants.
Who wouldn't want to?
I cup one breast in one hand, and take her nubbin into
my mouth; I'll make sure it's not cold. While alter-
nately sucking and tonguing, alternately hard and
gentle, my other hand completes one more journey down
her soft skin, but not stopping like before. I cup her
mound with my hand, pressing firmly on all her woman-
hood. She moans quietly, losing herself in all the
sensations: The cool night air, the tickling grass on
the back of her thighs, my hot mouth on her cold titty,
my cool hand on her warm pussy. We're starting to make
love like Adam and Eve, in the Garden where God can
watch.
Is God watching? I hear heavy breathing. Is it mine?
Is it hers? Who else is watching? Without letting go
of her breast, I lift my eyes up to the top of the
short hill. Yes, the jogger is watching. I smile with
my eyes at him, pleased that my pleasure, the thought
that our joy, can be shared like this.
Looking back down to my wife, I see her begin to spread
her legs wider. She brings her knees up and spreads
them, too, opening her pussy lips for wider access by
my dancing fingers. I bend my middle two fingers,
pushing to find their way into her soaking pussy. I
move my mouth over to her other tit, kissing/nibbling
her chest on the way. Keeping the palm of my hand
against her pubic bone, putting pressure on her
clitoris from the outside and probing for her g-spot
on the inside, I slowly rub a little up and down, in
and out.
I look up to her face; her eyes are closed, her breath-
ing heavy, her chest beginning to heave. Making little
meowing sounds, she starts to move her hips, grinding
against my hand. This is the part I love to watch. The
jogger, too, apparently, because he hasn't left. In
fact, he's stepped a little closer, about 20 feet away,
with his hand in his own "lap" now.
In this display of pleasure my wife is giving, there's
an audience of at least three. We are all watching,
and we are all pleased. Would she freak out knowing we
were all watching her? Would it help if she knew how
much pleasure she was giving all of us? It's fabulous
the way receiving a blessing so enthusiastically can
in turn be a blessing to witnesses.
I'm concentrating solely on her, giving her my best
attention. I keep watching her face, barely able to
make out the look of her own concentration on the
sensations she's experiencing. I'm torn between
wanting to heighten her delight, and the risk of
breaking the spell by moving. I choose to try to
take her higher. I leave her breasts, and start
nuzzling my way up around her neck, tickling the
sensitive hairs there, and around her ear. I risk
a few words. "I love you. I love watching you.
You're so beautiful. Keep your eyes closed and enjoy
whatever comes."
I then start to move down her body, grazing her chest,
her stomach, her thighs with my lips. With the rest
of my body lying downhill, I settle my face between
her thighs. From here I can still look up and see her
shadowed face, her white breasts. I can also see the
jogger has moved a little closer. He's watching, but
probably wanting more.
With my tongue, I begin to lick around her luscious,
swollen pussy lips. With my hands, I reach up and
massage her breasts. She reaches her own arms straight
over her head, loving the feel of stretching out, fully
exposed.
The previous pre-climactic intensity has slowed, her
hips are stilled. She's has settled herself down for
what she knows will be a perfect tongue-lashing.
I start with a quick flick of her erect clitoris, and
I can tell by the short catch in her breathing that
I'm in control of her body. I continue flicking her
clit with my tongue, like "licking honey off a butter-
fly's wing" I heard once.
With one hand still on her breast, I wave the stranger
in with my other. He approaches, dropping his jogging
shorts. I shake my head "No;" my wife only takes it
as my face playing with her crotch. He looks confused.
I wave him in again, this time using my free hand to
point to my captive's breast, squeeze it whole-
handedly, point to it again, and point to him. Another
squeeze, another wave, and he gets the message.
I watch him sit behind my wife's head. I move both my
hands down to her stomach, lightly stroking her now
hypersensitive skin. I continue my tongue's work,
occasionally taking her swollen vulva into my mouth
and sucking gently, then returning to her clit. My
new friend, my partner in providing pleasure, calmly
strokes his fingers around my wife's heavy breasts.
At first she doesn't seem to notice, for she's caught
up in her own contentedness. He then begins to
massage her breasts, while I stroke her belly and lap
up her secret juices.
"What?!" she exclaims, and starts to sit up.
I lift my head. "Trust me," I answer, and press her
back down with my hands. She complies, and I return to
the one true aphrodisiac. The new helper lies down
beside her to continue the breast massage. He also
starts nuzzling her neck and ear as I did before, which
I know she finds almost irresistible. I watch her
relax, her body being ministered to by four hands and
two tongues.
She starts to talk quietly, whispering so that no other
passersby might hear her. "It feels so good. I never
guessed. Don't stop. I love your tongues." Hearing
her be vocal only makes my heart race, and my tonguing
picks up pace. "I'm climbing," she says. I keep my
eyes lifted the whole time, watching her happiness.
Helper has started flicking her nipples, rolling them
gently between thumb and finger. They're now standing
up more erect than I've ever seen them. Her breathing
is coming in little gasps, for she's having a hard time
containing so many erogenous sensations at once.
"Lover I need you in me, now..." she hoarsely whispers.
"Ride me like I like it; ride the pony." I lift my
head and wipe my drenched mouth on my sleeve. She rolls
over, brushing off the stranger, while I quickly undo
my fly and release my cock from his recently painful
prison. She assumes the position on her knees, and I
scoot in behind her. I push the bottom of her dress
aside; her arms are still in the sleeves, but every-
thing else is exposed.
My dick enters her easily; she's ready-ready-more-than-
ready. I can see my hands on her finely rounded ass,
and I watch my dick slide in to her. I know that if I
move too fast I'd finish too quickly, which would
cheat my lover. I move slowly, in and out, concentrat-
ing on not cumming, and on making her cum first. I
watch the watcher watch us, unashamed that he can see
our love in climax.
I reach up and grab my wife's hair, using it like a
bridle to control her head. This is the "pony" part
she likes. I'm in control, and she loves it.
The stranger moves to his knees in front of my wife's
face, then looks at me as if for approval. I pull her
hair, lifting her head up level with his crotch. I
then nod at him silently.
He drops his jogging shorts, and out springs his
erection. He's perfectly straight, not curved up like
my own. "Show him how good you are, gorgeous." She
tries to turn her head around to look at me, but with
my fingers entangled in her hair, I turn her to face
him again. "Trust me," I say to her.
He offers her his "little man," and she begins by
tentatively licking around the crown of his penis. I
press harder at her from behind, pushing her mouth
against his dick. She moans from the feel of the
flames stroking her insides. She takes him into her
mouth. He closes his eyes and takes her head in both
hands. She's receiving pleasure, she's giving
pleasure, and I'm watching it all. Unselfishness at
its finest.
This must be what God originally intended in the Garden
of Eden. Watching His children be naked and unashamed,
watching them giving pleasure, and observing it all
would be to His great delight.
The stranger just can't last with all the excitement.
He gives one spurt in my wife's mouth, but then she
takes his dick out of her mouth and finishes stroking
him by hand. With a long drawn out "Oooohh," he
fertilizes the earh with his seed.
I stop stroking for moment, still in her, while she
licks him clean. "Please go now," she whispers to
him, so he hikes up his shorts and hikes up the hill
as we watch him go.
When his head disappears beyond the rise, she lays
down flat on her belly, leaving my stiffness to hang
in the night breeze. I immediately begin to cool
off. She rolls to her back, opens her knees in the
traditional missionary position, and holds her arms
out to me invitingly. "I want to finish with you,
lover."
I accept the invitation, and press the weight of my
chest against hers. She aches down to help guide me
in to her treasure box. I immediately begin to warm
up again. I resume my slow stroking, trying to last
as long as I can.
"I'm ready to cum," she tells me in a constricted
voice. Reaching down and grabbing my butt with her
hands, she pushes me into her at a faster pace.
"Harder, now," she insists, and I comply. I start
pounding for all I'm worth, my manhood reaching her
cervix inside, my pubic bone smacking her clitoris
outside. Her breath comes in a vowelless "Nnngh,"
matching the tempo of our lovemaking. Her hands
push faster, I try desperately to increase the pace.
I watch her face contort in that agony of ecstasy,
until she throws her head back in a breathless,
silent scream, her hands like vises gripping me to
her. The moment is perfect. I release myself,
unloading deep in her in a lengthy, perfectly
synchronized climax.
Afterwards, we lay on the grass, coasting in each
other arms until the heat of our bodies dissipates
and the cool of the night chases us back into our
clothes. Climbing to the top of the little hill
beside the track, we see no trace of our anonymous
friend, or of anyone else to witness our passion.
But I know God watches. I can bet the nightly
exercise routine will be greeted with renewed
enthusiasm, and Friday nights will never be the
same for us either.
I silently thank God for my eyes, for the beauty He
offers, and for the joy of watching. God likes to
watch, and so do I.
*****
P.S. After I gave this story to my wife, she wanted
to put on that dress I so admire, try flirting a tiny
bit with a waiter, flash a little at the movie theater,
and take a walk around that track. Was I nervous or
what!?
As it turns out, we did it all, just like in the story.
Well, almost all. We walked the track for about a mile,
with her dress unbuttoned down below her bra and open
halfway, and unbuttoned up to her crotch, flipping open
as we walked. We walked counter-clockwise, so any late-
night joggers could get a frontal view. It was a new
moon, very dark, so any details were hard to make out,
but the tantalizing hints were there.
There was a lone, late-night jogger. It just happened
to be the youth pastor from our church, a 22 year-old
college guy. Can you say "mortified?" I knew you
could. My wife and I went to a baseball dugout for
"privacy," trembling and nervous the whole time
wondering if anyone, especially the pastor, would walk
by. No one did, but what an adventure! (I did say we
did "almost all")
Now my little homemaker/church secretary is becoming
quite the sex engine, and fantasizes about flashing
each time we go out. I don't know, but we might be
tempted to warn you when our next date night is...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sun, not thinking about adult situations. Do
your part to make our world a little safer.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 10