I Learned About the Best Sex at Church
A story about innocence, irony, and divine technique.
There was a beautiful girl (inside and out) and her brother, who gave everyone in the youth group incredible back rubs. They were truly gifted, Irish twins – super close. We’d often see them practicing on each other, perfecting their language of love.
Before service, they’d start a “love train,” and all of us nerds would fight to be next to them. So we’d all get in line and massage each other.
It was never sexual. We were just kids and they were totally cool. They never made a move on anyone outside of church … ever.
But make no mistake – they were masters of foreplay. It was long and slow. Tension, then release. Not the deep, knot-busting Swedish kind, but the kind that feels good.
To this day, I tell masseurs to refrain from using oil because there’s nothing more sensual than Irish-twin, skin-to-skin friction.
They didn’t just pull our hair. They’d gather a clump and twist right up to the edge of pain, then ease off and twist back the other way to balance it out. The effect was instant shivers up your spine – euphoric as hell. Heck, I didn’t even know what an orgasm was at the time, but I knew what it felt like.
Fast-forward several years. My girl-thang (now wife) was thoroughly confused as I applied all my church lessons.
As soon as she caught her breath, she questioned my experience.
“First time eh?”
“What can I say?”
God moves in mysterious ways.