Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
I have to look away just as quickly because my cock jerks violently in the face of such perfection and starts to drip into my pants. Pulsing. Dripping. Pulsing. Right up against the hot cushion of her pussy.
“What about now?” asks the monsignor. “Does he have an erection now? How is his body reacting to your nudity?”
“It’s not,” she lies again, smoothly, biting her lip and looking up at me through the veil of her eyelashes, her cunt flexing on top of my tortured flesh once, twice, three times. “He’s not attracted to me, Monsignor. Like we told you, he was only seeing to my injury today in the field.”
A skeptical sound from the monsignor. “No, I can still see that lustful expression when he turned around and realized he’d been caught. I know what I saw!”
“Perhaps it was a trick of light,” I say, my voice like sandpaper.
“You sound rather strained, Father McDaniel,” he observes, smug. “Are you having a sinful reaction to having Farrah in your lap?” He lowers his voice. “You only need unfasten your pants to experience her. As a virgin, she’d undoubtedly be tight. I’m told a snug hole affords a man a good deal of pleasure.”
“Please stop,” I bite off, trying to banish the vision he’s creating in my mind. My fist guiding my cock up beneath the silk robe where her wet entrance awaits me, rocking her onto my stiffness, all of her weight pressing down, down, down, my hips riding her around. Up, back and side to side, her mouth falling open in pleasure. Chanting my name.
My begging has caused the monsignor to look like he’s won the challenge, however, so I rush to add, “Please stop. Do not speak of her as if she’s an object.”
Although…she appears to like it. Being objectified. Her eyes are glassy, the drenched state of her cunt turning the fly of my pants sopping wet.
“Isn’t she, though?” the monsignor says, so low I almost don’t hear him. “Move in his lap now, Farrah. Rub your sex up and back. Up and back. Dammit, earn your pay, girl.”
Farrah might have been shrewd and lucid enough to lie for me before, but as soon as her hips scoot up and down the rigid length of my dick, a light of passion flickers on in her eyes and damn, damn, she’s lost to the sensations now. Bare to the waist, she holds onto my shoulders, gets extra close and bucks her hips. Buck, buck, bucks them until I’m not breathing, only holding on, praying for perseverance that never comes. My cock only expands in size, the throb gripping me from root to tip, and I can only hold on, at her mercy. Bearing down so I don’t ejaculate, while a baser part of me urges her on, wanting her to give me relief. Needing it so desperately, I can taste blood in my mouth, while she gallops on my lap, jacking me off between her pussy and my abdomen.
“Is he erect, Farrah?”
“No,” she gasps, head falling back, lower body writhing eagerly.
“Then what are you rubbing against so eagerly, pray tell?”
“I..I…”
“McDaniel, stand up and prove she isn’t lying.”
I’m as good as defrocked. My cock is swollen beyond measure, ready to break through my zipper to get to her.
“Monsignor!” calls a man’s voice from down the hall. “Are you in your office? You have a visitor in the cathedral. It’s an emergency.”
The monsignor slams his fist down on the desk. “Damn it all.”
“Monsignor!” shouts the newcomer again. “Please make haste.”
“I’m coming!” he calls back, before jabbing a finger at me and Farrah. “Keep rubbing. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as the monsignor has cleared the doorway, Farrah starts to babble. “I’m…I think I’m going to have p-pleasure, F-father.”
“An orgasm,” I correct her, my teeth bared against her mouth. “God help me, I’m going to have one too, sweetheart. You’re too beautiful and it’s breaking me.” I grab hold of her ass, doomed to find those pumping cheeks fit my palms like a dream, and I compress her tighter to my straining cock, the rapid friction of her mound driving me to the brink. “Was it God or the devil who sent you to drive me mad? Which one of them?”
She can’t answer, because lust grips her, clearing her eyes of any rationality. And if I thought I was doomed before, watching this creature climax has sealed the deal. It’s the most divine experience of my lifetime, more rapturous than anything I’ve witnessed through the church, as blasphemous as that is to admit. But look at her, shocked by the ability of her body to seize up and shake through a release, her spine gripped by the invisible rush, her thighs trembling around my hips.
There is no option available to my awed brain but to kiss her.