Posts Tagged ‘priest’
“How long has it been since your last confession?” Father Tony asks from the other side of the confession booth.
“A whole year, I’m afraid to say,” Kim replies, folding her hands across her lap. “I guess I have a lot to cover. Maybe I should start with my brother…”
Jeremy is a good Catholic boy, but our interactions are somewhat improper. He only let’s go as far as playing with his cock. Just the other day I had my breasts fully exposed to him. He almost dove at my chest, taking first one nipple, then the other between his lips, sucking and nibbling at them until they were hard and almost a half inch long. He softly, but urgently ran his tongue around each areola until his quest found my nipple, then sucked it hard as I groaned my delight.
His finger had exited my clit until it was as hard as his cock. Keeping pressure on my clit as his finger moved down my slit, Jeremy lubricated my outer lips with the copious amounts of juice my pussy had excreted. Sliding up and down my slit, he made sure that every part of my pussy was as wet as the tip of his cock that leaked his precum.
I swirled my fingers around his cockhead, spreading his cock juices over his entire head and throbbing cock. As my hand slid down his cock, he prepared to assault my pussy and thrust the full length of his finger up inside me as my hand reached the base of his cock. My reaction was a combination of a sharp gasp and a thrust of my hips against his hand, begging for more.
I leaned my head into him, whispering, ‘Oh god, Jeremy! You feel so good inside me like that!’
Jeremy curled his finger inside my pussy and found my G-Spot, lightly teasing it with the tip of his finger. As the rhythm increased, so did mine. I was going to jack him off.
My breathing got faster, shallower and more ragged. His own balls were tightening as they pushed a full delivery of his sticky cum to the base of his cock, preparing it for launch. By the feel of my pussy wall fluttering and grasping at his finger, I knew I was close too. As his cock moved up his shaft, Jeremy bit down on my nipple, pushing me over the edge as my climax caused every muscle in my body to tense and my entire body to shake and tremble. I began to moan, letting it grow into a scream of ecstasy as I explored through the peak of my pleasure.
That is all it took to take Jeremy to the point of no return and the first rope of his hot, sticky cum erupted from his cock and launched itself at his chest. I felt the throb of his orgasm and milked every drop of his creamy cum out of his hard cock.
“It is preferable to anything worse, my child,” Father Tony says when she finishes the story. “If temptations become too much to bear, a certain level of petting can be done as a release, accompanied by confession.”
“I’m glad for that, father,” she says with a smile.
“God forgives you. You shouldn’t be ashamed of these impulses if you don’t let them dominate your actions.”
“Well, there’s more, father,” she says hesitantly.
I taken further than my brother would when my uncle visited a almost a year ago. He was incredibly hot. His body was like a Greek god and his voice was simply sexy. He showed me a new way to have an orgasm.
One day, he stopped by my place, breaking away from my parent’s house long enough to. I was a bit surprised to him and even more surprised when the first thing he did was unfasten the button of my jeans, tugging the zipper its full length in the process. I gave in instantly and pulled back just far enough to grant him access to my waist and he slipped them down my legs until my jeans were wrapped around my ankles. As I stepped out of them, he ran his hands up and down my ass.
With my pussy only inches away from his face, he pulled me back to his hungry mouth and planted his lips firmly over my pussy, running his tongue down my slit until he found my clit. I moaned in response to his search.
‘God, yes! Lick me Uncle Billy!’ I growled lustfully. As he pulled my even closer with his growing need to taste me, I almost fell on top of him. The more Uncle Billy explored my pussy, the further apart I spread my legs, making my pussy available to him. I recognized that my need was as great as his.
Without another word, Uncle Billy acknowledged my want. In no time flat, we are completely naked and in my living room. I fell onto the couch, landing on my back with my legs open as an invitation to my Uncle Billy to take me any way he wanted. He fell between my thighs, landing on my stomach with his mouth once again clamped over my wet pussy. His tongue searched for my clit. He licked and sucked it until it stood proud and firm. Taking it into his mouth, he clamped his lips around my clit while reaching up with his hand to squeeze and tease my breast and nipple and using his other hand to begin fingering my pussy.
His finger slid right into my wet pussy with almost no resistance and it was joined by another finger. I responded by lifting my legs up and over his shoulders, effectively pinning him to my hungey crotch. I raised my hips in an effort to pull his tongue deeper into my pussy. The second he licked my entrance, I convulsed upward until our only contact with the couch was my shoulder blades and his knees.
Soon my breathing became faster and shallower and pussy grasped at his fingers as my first orgasm began to radiate all through my body. He curled his fingers to tickle the ridges of my pussy, searching for my G-Spot. Seconds later, I tense my whole body and began to tremble as the orgasm washed over me. I screamed as I went over the top and a warm gush of my juices flowed into his palm which he immediately lapped up with his tongue.
“Afterward, I knew I wanted more,” she says. “I didn’t feel shame until he was gone.”
“I-I see,” Father Tony says tugging at his collar. “Have you, um, learned to manage these urges?”
“No father. It only got worse and I grew hungrier for it. I found my father was interested in me and willing to take my virginity.”
I had just gotten out of the shower when I felt my father press himself tight to my body and taking the opportunity to lightly run his tongue around the edge of my ear. I softly moaned my delight and then pushed my ass hard against his groin.
The thought of his cock in me set my juices flowing. With a slow rhythm, I began rocking against his cock, feeling it harden just a little more with each stroke of my slit along its length. Within moments it was coated with my juices and hard as a rock. I could feel it searching for my entrance and I lifted my leg to grant him access.
Daddy probed my crotch until his cockhead slipped inside my hot, wet pussy and then slowly began to bury his cock deeper and deeper. I swung my legs up and away from his, allowing him to penetrate me to the full depth of my pussy and then groaned in delight of my pussy being speared fully.
As he continued to slowly pump himself in and out, Daddy squeezed and fondled my breasts, pulling and twisting my nipples whenever I least expected it. I met his rhythm with a rocking of my hips, fucking him back as hard as he was driving himself in and out of me. With each successive slap of his balls against my firm ass, I got closer and closer to orgasm. I could feel my pussy flutter and grasp his cock. He moved a hand from my breast to caress my clit, tickling and teasing it until its entire mass exposed itself. Flicking his finger back and forth across my clit, I gasped with pleasure.
Soon he was pumping himself into me faster and faster, resulting in his balls lifting as they began to fill the base of his cock to fill m pussy. His breathing became ragged as the pressure built. Within seconds, we were both groaning and gasping louder and louder and I began to tremble and shake as my climax took over.
‘Fuck me harder!’ I yelled.
Daddy pumped me harder and a second later he shot a massive stream of hot cum deep inside me, slashing against my cervix, hard enough to push me over the top and into a second climax. I gasped desperately and then screamed loudly as my orgasm shot through me.
‘Fill me with your cum!’ I screamed at my father.
Daddy’s cum sprayed me again and again, blasting several hard ropes into me. My pussy walls gripped and grabbed his cock, milking the cum out of his balls. He drove his cock as far up my pussy as possible and held it there until every drop of cum had been expelled into me.
“I’ve been giving it to him steady for the better half of a year now.”
“Gracious child,” Father Tony gasps.
“I know father, but I can’t help but savor the thrill. All I can do is ask for forgiveness now.”
“Well, uh, you needn’t be so graphic with your confessions child.”
“I’m sorry father, I will try to be less detailed,” she says with a smile. “I’ve been having sex with the father whose son I babysit on the weekends.”
“When Father Dinarus come to visit—”
“My god child!” Father Tony gasps.
“I did pleasure him, father while I was seeking counsel.”
“Oh, sweet heavens!”
“Then there were the boys from summer camp. Their strange fetishes started to rub off on me. One of them even would pee on me to get his fulfillment. I wouldn’t feel so bad now if I didn’t enjoy it as much as I did, father.”
“That’s enough, child. I’m having trouble hearing all of this.”
“But I’m nowhere near finished, father,” Kim protests.
Suddenly the door to her side of the confession booth opens with Father Tony standing in the doorway, his cock hard as a rock and sticking straight into the air. “Forgive me,” he says. “If I could…”
“Father! Oh, my god.”
Kim sheds her clothes and bent over the seat, groaning lustfully. Father Tony slides a finger down her slit and over her clit, lightly rubbing it until it hardens to his touch. Her pussy is being flooded with her pussy juices, which he dips and smears onto her pussy lips. His finger alternates between her entrance and clit, diving inside her a little deeper every time. Kim shifts her legs apart to grant his finger full access.
“I want your hard cock up my ass,” she tells him with a lusty growl.
Father Tony slides his hand up to the base of her ass crack and then runs a finger up her until he finds her asshole. Coating his finger heavily with her pussy juice as he slips from one hole to the other, he begins to press against her until, eventually, her muscles relax enough to accept him to the first knuckle.
Kim moans heavily as she anticipates the pending violation of her ass. She impales herself further onto his finger, pushing herself down on it as he continues to stretch her. When he is as deep as he can be, the pressure of his palm on her ass is pure heaven to her.
“Fuck father, that’s feels good!”
Father Tony starts finger fucking her as his other hand pumps her pussy, making her hornier and hornier. Father Tony stops and grabs his shaft and begins rubbing it up and down her slit, smearing her pussy juices over his shaft. Then he eases his cockhead against her asshole, Pressing just enough to open her asshole, the head pops inside her ass and her hole closes over him, trapping him so he can neither go forward nor backward.
“Fill me with that big fucking cock,” Kim grunts.
Her moans get louder and louder as his invading cock begins to slide further up her ass. He strokes her pussy, paying attention to the movements on her clit. A few minutes later, he is balls deep in her ass and he feels her juices begin to flow faster from her pussy. Father Tony begins to pump his cock in and out of her ass while massaging the inner walls of her pussy and soon he can feel her pussy walls start to flutter and quiver. As her asshole loosens up more and more, he pumps himself into her faster, until the rhythm of his finger and his cock are almost identical. His finger dances in her pussy and tickles and teases the underside of his cock, exciting his balls.
Kim can feel a sensation start in her pussy, spreading to her stomach and then to her ass. She was going to cum as Father Tony filled her ass up. Kim’s ass grabs his cock as her pussy walls grasp and clutch his finger. He feels her juices spray him as she splashes his legs, drenching them both. Father Tony climaxes at that moment as cum explodes from his cock to coat her insides. Spurt after spurt gushes out of him. He has shoved himself as far up her ass as he could and holds his cock deep inside her, but the power of his cum is making his legs quiver and shake. He holds himself to her to keep from falling.
Slowly, they come back from the sensual explosion of their joining. She can feel Father Tony’s semi-erect cock still in her. Squeezing her ass cheeks around it, she captures it there, not wanting him to leave her. His cum seeps out of her to his balls and dribbles onto the floor. She smiles and says, “I’ll not have to wait a whole year for my next confession.”
I’m a pervert, and an unapologetic one at that. I’m so completely confident and comfortable with my sexuality that I refuse to compartmentalize it, lie about it, or be ashamed of it. I’m free from society’s pressure to conform and that is a joy most people will never experience. To most people in a sexually-repressed society, being unashamed of your sexuality translates to being a perv and trying to convince people that you never have any sexual thoughts whatsoever is considered normal. That’s insane. Anyone who knows me knows that I will swear on a stack of bibles in a court of law and admit to anything and everything I’ve ever done sexually, regardless of how uncomfortable it might make some pseudo-conservatives and religious zealots, because I’ve never done anything immoral or illegal and I’m not ashamed of people knowing that I color outside the lines. I’m of the strong belief that two consenting adults should test the waters to see what they enjoy and explore alternative options. I personally enjoy exploring where my mind can go sexually and you know what they say; the mind is the biggest sexual organ. A pervert is defined as someone who leads another astray morally. I like to think that I have the unique ability to seduce people into doing things they secretly crave but publicly denounce. I get off on seeing people become feral, primal, sexual beasts, shedding their façade of straight-laced formality and conformity only to embrace and revel in their true nature. I belong to the school of thought that it’s the responsibility of forward thinking individuals like myself to challenge the notion that sex is only valid if it’s missionary position on a Friday night with the lights out between two married, white, mildly unattractive and boring, financially stable heterosexuals.
It’s rare to find a woman, at least as upstanding and educated as I am, and a Black woman on top of that, who readily admits that she is a aroused by sexual variation and coloring outside the lines. I didn’t say it was rare to find a woman of my social and economic standing who is a pervert, I meet tons of them. We live in such a sexually repressed society, finding women who are sophisticated and conservative on the outside and horny and willing to push their limits when they let their hair down is a piece of cake. All one has to do is know what to look for; like attracts like as they say. It is rare, however, to meet women who are as proud to be as kinky as I am. It’s easier to find men who are kinksters, at least in name if not in practice. There are tons of men who claim to be comfortable with their sexuality as I am but all they do is jerk off in front of a computer screen or they lie about their true motives and desires. You can’t claim to be a comfortable with your sexuality if you your only connection to other people is though a broadband one or if you are ashamed of your actions. You can’t claim to be comfortable with your sexuality if you need to lie, manipulate, cheat, and do things that are unsafe and unhealthy in the pursuit of illicit sex. I am the real deal. Usually, women are so secretive about their sexuality that no one knows about their dark side; they even keep it hidden from their lovers. They hide the fact that they look at extreme porn on the internet and crave things that they pretend to their co-workers, family, and friends offends them. Me on the other hand, I don’t care who knows that I am aroused by almost every expression of sexuality in some form or fashion. Pick a fetish, inclination, or preference and I’ve probably masturbated to it.
I was in the mood for some fun so I decided to take the afternoon off from work to enjoy the beautiful summer afternoon. I went to the park to see if I could find some average-looking married guy sucking off some stranger in the bushes. That always gets my pussy wet. I love watching the white guys with receding hairlines who wear sweater vests and pocket protectors enthusiastically schlobbing on the knob of some Black or Latino guy with a huge cock and sucking him like a porn star at 2 in the afternoon in the park. Let him bend over and take that big, brown cock up his ass and I’m turned on and cumming and fucking myself like there’s no tomorrow. Any guy that horny who is willing to do something that outrageous and contrary to social norms in broad daylight is a risk taker; he is addicted to getting off and that turns me on. I can get off on just the mental image of this middle management white guy going home and having to take out the trash and pay the bills knowing that he has the cum of a hot black man dripping out of his boipussy while his unsuspecting wife is making meatloaf and green beans for dinner. That is so fucking HOT!
This particular day, I was in the mood for more than just watching; I wanted to play and play hard. Every step I took, my wet and throbbing pussy reminded me that I needed relief. When my perverted mind is turned on, I see sex in everything. I was searching the eyes of everyone I saw, looking for that look of arousal and secrecy that only other perverts can recognize. I saw it in the most average looking woman who was coming out of a church. It was a weekday and it was the middle of the afternoon but I could see she was wearing a top that was just a little bit too sexy for church and she was visibly aroused. I could see her hardened nipples through her shirt and she looked breathless. Sitting on a bench across from the park, she had that look of guilt on her face that I could tell she had been doing something naughty and she was trying to collect herself before she had to go home and face her hubby. She had on a pair of polyester slacks, flats, and a blouse that looked like it was something she got from the junior’s department straight from Wal-mart and she looked like she was on her way to pick up the kids from soccer practice. I casually strolled up to her and sat down next to her and blatantly stared at her. It made her uncomfortable and she started fidgeting around, eventually grabbing her purse like I was going to steal it. One of my shoes literally cost more than 10 times her outfit so I had to laugh at her white paranoia.
“Gorgeous day, isn’t it,” I casually inquired.
She nodded, mumbled her agreement, and stared at the ground, trying to avoid eye contact. She looked like she was trying to catch her breath. I leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “So, what was it in that church that got you so hot and bothered? What got your pussy so wet?” There was no mistaking the look of terror in her eyes. She got up and quickly walked away, looking back over her shoulder the entire time until she was out of sight. I just smiled and waved. I decided to go investigate myself and I entered the consecrated building. The place was deserted with the exception of a wrinkled, elderly Latina woman lighting candles at the altar and I highly doubted that she was who had that woman so flushed and aroused. I sat down and observed for a few minutes. I was just about ready to go, bored out of my mind, when at about a few minutes to 4:00, a priest came out of a side rectory door and went straight to the confessional and turned on an indicator light. Giving credit where credit is due, the priest was reasonably attractive. He wasn’t masturbation material but his face was chiseled and distinguished and his brown eyes danced with brilliance with a sly smile. He was maybe in his early 40s and I guessed that under his black shirt and pants, his body was toned. Overall, he was intriguing enough to get my “creative” juices flowing. I saw the elderly Latina woman make her way to the back of the church and at exactly 4 pm, she entered the small booth. She was only in there about 5 minutes and when she exited she certainly didn’t look particularly flustered or aroused.
I hatched the most delicious plan right then and there. I entered the confessional and sat down. The partition opened and I said, “Bless me father for I have sinned, I’ve never confessed before because I’m not Catholic. Shit, I’m not even Christian for that matter.”
“How then can I help you my child? The confessional is a sacred space for Catholics to confess their sins and seek absolution. Perhaps, if you are in need of counsel, I can make arrangements to meet with you outside the confessional.”
“Oh, no, please father, I need someone to talk to and you are the only one. Anything I say here you have to keep a secret, right? Cross your heart and hope to die, right? Well, I need to confess and get a lot of things off my chest. It would make me feel so much better to do it here, where you can’t see me. I’d be so embarrassed that I don’t think I could tell you these things face to face, Father. Please.”
I was lying. I didn’t give a half a fat fuck if he saw my face or not. I couldn’t give a hot damn if someone looked me dead in the eye while I spilled my guts about my fetishes and fantasies. I just thought it was a turn-on to be in a confessional with a man who took an oath of abstinence and telling him incredibly nasty things.
He conceded and let me go on with my fake confession. “Father, I’ve been a very naughty girl.” I paused, giving him time to gather his senses. “Father, I . . . hardly know where to begin. Well, let me ask you this. Is anal sex a sin?”
The priest gasped, audibly shocked. Clearing his throat, he said, “Are you . . . are you married my child? Well . . . uhmmmm. . . . whatever happens in the marriage bed is considered sacred in the eyes of the lord but . . .”
“Oh, I’m not married but my boyfriend is. Cool, he always fucks me in the ass in his marital bed when his wife is out of town. Okay, on to my next confession . . .”
“Wait, no, no. That’s not what I meant. I was trying to say . . .”
I could barely contain my laughter. “Relax, pops, I was just kidding you. I know that adultery is a sin. My boyfriend isn’t married. In fact, he isn’t even a boy. He, is a she. My girlfriend is married though. Do I get extra forgiveness points or whatever you call it because I’ve known her longer than she has known her husband? She and I used to fool around in college and we just can’t seem to stop . . . fooling around . . . if you know what I mean.” “Oh, gosh darnit all to heck,” I sarcastically added and then changed my tone to that of the most intense sexy whisper, “You see, Father, I love eating pussy. I can’t get enough. I love sticking my tongue between those meaty folds of her wet cunt and tasting all her sweet juices and swirling her hardened clit between my lips to make her flood my mouth with her hot cum. Awww poop, I guess that is a sin in your book too. Man, I’m not doing too well here. I love getting dicked really hard up the ass with a strapon by my married lesbian lover and having her eat my pussy too. I’m guessing it’s a good thing I’m not Catholic. I’d never leave this little room with all the things I do.”
By this time, the Padre knew exactly what I was trying to do and it looked like he was willing to play along. “These are some very serious sins, my child, I think you should start at the beginning and tell me everything, don’t leave any detail out no matter how small, so that I can know how to counsel you and give you guidance.” At that point, I heard the very faint sounds of a zipper being lowered and the tell-tale signs of labored breathing.
I was in my zone. I knew I had him just where I wanted him and it was turning me on like crazy. I was tempting this devout holy man with my particular brand of perversion and he was falling for it hook, line, and sinker. I have long had my suspicions that anyone who makes a conscious choice to deny their sexuality is ripe for perverse pickings so to speak. Sex is natural, human beings are supposed to have sex. Anyone who denies their sexuality, suppresses it, is setting themselves up for mental illness and sexual addiction. Duh! All these priests molesting children is clearly because humans are not meant to be asexual and they are driven to these detrimental and deviant behaviors because they have shut off that part of themselves which is natural. And now that priests can have access to porn every day all day on the internet, every sort of degrading, misogynist, vulgar porn, they are sure to be even more susceptible to being led astray and have more opportunities for sexual depravity than most people would care to acknowledge or accept.
I moved closer to the partition. I whispered so the priest would be forced to lean in closer. “I’m not sure where to begin, Father. I guess it all started when I got my heart broken by a guy who was a sociopath. Up until that point in my life I had been pretty comfortable being average and regular, hiding and denying my sexuality like everyone else. Then, I dated evil incarnate, a demon; I fell in love with someone without a soul. He was beyond a pathological liar. Every single solitary word out of his mouth was a lie. He lied when he would swear to me he was telling the truth. He looked me in the eye and lied to me, used me, he cheated on me. He told me he loved me, told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, that I was the woman of his dreams, for no other reason than he wanted to fuck me. He got a perverse thrill out of making me believe that he was my ideal lover, that he believed in me and was supportive of me when he knew I was just a placeholder for the next woman he could romance who would feed his distorted ego. When I found out the truth, it broke my heart in ways I can’t even explain. I was emotionally shattered.”
I continued. “So, in order to heal from that pain, I had to start really loving myself. Loving myself meant I had to embrace every part of myself. Loving myself meant that I could step back from the situation and see how pathetic and sad my ex was because he felt so driven by his sexuality and so ashamed of it that he had to hurt, use, manipulate, degrade, humiliate, and deceive people for his sexual satisfaction and that that had nothing to do with me, my value as a lover, or my ability to make sound choices in a partner. It was then that I decided that I was not going lie about my sexuality ever again. Never again would I be ashamed of anything I fantasized about, desired, or got aroused by. I was not going to be victim of the same beliefs that made him into a narcissist and sociopath; I was not going to be a slave to a society that created monsters like him because they felt like they had to deny their sexuality. When I got to that point in my life, Father, I released all the fear, shame, and guilt that I had been socialized to have my entire life and I started to enjoy my sexuality in a way that I had never even realized I could before.”
“I see, my child.” The father was listening intently. I could see his outline through the partition and he was riveted to my every word. It was as if I was counseling him in a way. I think I might have been telling his story. I knew he had to have some form of sexual release and I just imagined that he struggled with his own sexual demons and maybe what unhealthy, dysfunctional things it might have driven him to do.
“Do you really see, Father? I mean, you’ve never even had the opportunity to slide your dick in a wet, hot, tight pussy before. How could you possibly understand? You’ve never had soft, full, sensual lips sliding up and down the shaft of your cock, coaxing you to the verge of orgasm. You’ve never had a thick, hard dick up your ass, hitting your prostate, making your cock leak precum. Not once have you experienced what it feels like to shoot your cum deep inside someone and know that you are sharing yourself with them in a way that God intended people to connect and share.”
He was moaning softly and I could clearly hear the tell-tale signs of him jerking off. I decided to join the party. I stood up and slid my soaking wet panties down my brown, tone legs. I held them up to the partition and he inhaled deeply my feminine scent. “No, I’ve never experienced any of those worldly desires personally, but you cannot say that the God wants people to have sex outside of the holy covenant of marriage. The bible says . . .”
“Fuck that,” I interrupted, “How the holy hell can you say that God doesn’t want us to experience pleasure, ecstasy, and bliss when she created our bodies to feel every bit of that?”
“I’m afraid you are terribly misguided, my child,” he reprimanded me, practically choking on his words. “We have Catechism classes here on Thursday and Friday evenings if you’d like to come and learn about the true word of God.” It was clear he was getting upset by my assertions. I’d seen it before. People who are intent on pretending to be asexual have this form of cognitive dissonance, their brains start to shut down, their wires get crossed and they freak out when they are confronted with facts that contradict their beliefs. That, ladies and gentlemen, is precisely the point when I can entice people to come to the light, the enlightenment of sexual freedom and expression.
“So, you’re telling me, Father, that when I touch my clit, like this, I’m not supposed to experience pleasure? You’re telling me that I’m not supposed to enjoy the sensations of having my hard nipples softly caressed, sucked, and licked unless I have a piece of paper from the courthouse that says I’m married? Seriously? You believe that?” I started masturbating, at first with just one finger on my clit and then quickly graduated to using both hands, one to furiously rub my pussy and one to finger fuck my horny hole. I was moaning loud enough for him to hear but I didn’t want to attract too much attention and I had no clue who could hear me outside the confessional. I didn’t want some Bishop or Monsignor or even some other parish priest busting in and interrupting what was quickly becoming one of the kinkiest, most erotic experiences of my life.
I stood up and turned my back to the partition. I pulled up my skirt and revealed my ass. Bending over, I pulled my ass cheeks apart and I backed up. This time, the priest didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was deeply inhaling the musky scent from my unwashed pussy and asshole. This smell wasn’t soap and perfume, it was the heady aroma of my unique essence, my pheromones. “Does that turn you on, Father? Are you aroused? Is your cock hard? Do you want to fuck me?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. He was pounding his dick unashamedly at this point. He was being even more cautious than I was about making noises so I had to listen carefully for any sounds that let me know he was enjoying every second of this lecherous experience. I wondered if he had ever seen a Black woman’s pussy before. African Americans are Baptists and Methodists for the most part, we aren’t Catholics in any sort of great numbers. Then, it dawned on me that perhaps there were millions of lonely, frustrated, sexually repressed white housewives using confessionals all over the country as their illicit source of sexual satisfaction. I thought maybe that was a secret hidden in plain sight; that priests everywhere were jerking off to confessions from people who were turned on by getting their clergyman all hot and bothered.
If that damn booth hadn’t been so damn small, I would have taken every thread of clothing I had on and left it in a heap on the floor so I could really give the good Father a show. The lighting was poor and the space was cramped and confined so I had to make the best of my circumstances. I was more aroused than I had been in a long time. So close, but yet so far, was this man, a virile man who took a vow of chastity whom I had tempted to sin. I had to use the only skills I could to get us both off, and that was my ability to talk dirty. “I know you want this wet, Black pussy, Father. You want to lay me down on your bed, push my legs back, and aim your hard cock and my unrepentant, sinful cunt, don’t you? You want to bend me over, my big, round ass sticking up for you to slide your hard dick in me like your animal instincts tell you to do, fuck me hard, make me scream, make me cum all over you. You want that, don’t you? You want to give me pleasure with your stiff dick in me, make me feel like a woman. You want to feel like a man when you pump your thick, hot cum up inside me.”
The chiming of the doorbell echoed through the large house. Kat debated ignoring it, but then set aside the book she’d been reading and unwound herself from the sofa. She knew that Isabel and Jean-Paul, both night owls, wouldn’t be up to answer the door.
She opened the door and took a step back in shock.
“You,” said Kat. “How on Earth did you find me?”
The boy looked terrible. Dark rings framed his eyes and there was a look of general dishevelment about him. “I followed my heart and asked a few questions. You’re not hard to find.”
“What are you doing here?” asked Kat, her heart racing. She stood in the middle of the doorway.
“May I come in?”
Kat was about to refuse him but feared making a scene out here where the neighbors might see. Scenes, particularly in this neighborhood, were to be avoided. She stepped aside, inviting him in. She led him to the sitting room.
“Nice place,” Daniel said.
“It’s comfortable.” Then she added, lest Daniel think her a snob, “It has been in the family for generations.”
“I can imagine.”
Kat asked him to sit on the leather sofa and she took a seat on an armchair. “Can I get you anything?”
Daniel shook his head.
He looked pale. The cocksure energy of their first meeting was gone, replaced by energy of a different kind. It was an energy that, without release, would consume him. She had caught hints of it over the last few days as she went about her business in the town. It was nothing she invited or responded to, it was just there like background noise that seemingly grew louder in the absence of distraction. At least that was the way it had started. And once she became consciously aware of its frequency, she found it difficult to ignore. Often there would be nothing more than a muted hum, and then a wave of yearning, focused and intense, would wash over her, particularly in the early hours of the new day. She wasn’t surprised that Daniel had found her.
And now its source sat before her.
Kat noticed that Daniel wore a bandage around his hand and made a move to touch it.
Daniel snatched it away, closing his fingers around and wincing as he did so.
She watched him for several moments as he fidgeted on the sofa and looked at everything in the room but her. Finally, his eyes fell on her, eyes suffused with such pain and confusion that it was Kat who had to avert her gaze. “Please don’t visit me anymore,” said Daniel finally.
“Visit you? I don’t even know where you live.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“At night. You visit me. If you have any decency in you, please stop.”
“I’ve done no such thing.”
Daniel looked at her, trying to spot the lie.
“Honest,” said Kat.
“And I’m to believe you?”
“Believe what you want. I’ve never visited you.”
He leaned back in his seat, confusion and anger etched on his face.
“Could you have dreamed it?” Kat asked quietly.
Daniel remained silent for a long moment, obviously debating what Kat had suggested. She pitied him.
“It was so real,” he said finally, his face betraying loss and relief at the same time.
“You sound almost disappointed.” Kat immediately regretted the words.
“Of course you would think so. Imagine someone not wanting to be tormented by you. It was a mistake to have come here, expecting to reason with a demon.”
There, it was said, thought Kat. Yet she felt none of the surprise and anger that she would have expected at being identified for what she was. Nor did she feel compelled to deny or dissemble. More than anything, she was curious. For the first time in a long time, she was faced with a mortal who knew exactly what she was.
“Any torment you feel is of your own making,” she said. “I have done nothing to encourage you.”
“Your very existence torments me,” said Daniel. He glanced at her. There was nothing even remotely suggestive about the way she was dressed, yet she felt his attraction to her.
“I feel possessed,” he continued. “Don’t you understand? You occupy my dreams. You come to me every night and I am powerless.”
“These things are in your mind.”
“You come to me every night,” he insisted again.
Kat felt a sudden wave of desperate yearning. There was more to it than what Daniel had suggested. “And we do things,” she said quietly.
“Things both sinful and wonderful.”
“Things that you would like to do. With me.”
“Yes, but you’re evil. That’s the terrible thing.”
“Do I look evil?”
“You are though. Do you deny it?”
Kat took a deep breath. “No.”
If she’d expected her admission to be greeted with triumph, she was disappointed.
Daniel looked thoroughly deflated and cornered. “There’s nothing I can do. Can’t you talk to a priest or something?”
“I try not to think of you,” continued Daniel as though Kat hadn’t spoken, “but you can’t not think of something. I read the catechism until I can read no more and the minute my eyes close, you’re there.”
“But I’m not. It’s all in your mind.”
“I don’t believe you. I can’t believe you. There’s too much detail. Tell me that you don’t wear body jewelry, for example. Tell me that your private parts aren’t pierced.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Kat was stunned. How could he have known? It was impossible. She hadn’t visited him.
“There’s a ring,” Daniel continued. “It pierces your… clitoris. It has two bumps on it. Please tell me you don’t have one. Maybe then I’ll believe you.”
The ring, a souvenir from her time in what was now the Czech Republic, pierced the base of the clitoral hood where it met the inner labia. The ring had no beginning and no end, and featured two little horns, each tipped with a ruby.
“I can tell by your reaction that it’s true.”
Kat stared at him hard. There was no way he could have known.
“You are a liar,” he said.
Impossible or not, there appeared to be some kind of connection between them. What was going on? Kat wondered.
Kat didn’t hear them enter. She was still stunned by Daniel’s apparent intimate knowledge of her. Only Daniel’s look of surprise and fear announced their presence.
She turned. Isabel and Jean-Paul stood, both stone-faced, in the doorway.
Her heart sank. “You heard?” asked Kat.
Isabel nodded and Jean-Paul merely scowled. He did that well.
“Who are these people?” asked Daniel.
Isabel ignored him. “Kat, this is an unconscionable breach.”
Kat shrugged helplessly. “I know. He found me.”
Isabel stared hard at Daniel. “You’ve made a grave mistake in coming here.”
Something in Isabel’s tone momentarily robbed Daniel of words. He paled visibly. “God, there are more of you,” he finally managed to say.
“More than you know,” growled Jean-Paul.
Daniel fumbled for the cross that hung from a chain on his neck. He held it up.
Jean-Paul laughed. “We’re not vampires, for Christ’s sake. Really, Kat, where did you find this guy?”
“Put that away,” said Kat.
“I can leave,” he said eventually. “I’ll forget what I know.”
“I’m afraid that is no longer possible,” said Isabel.
Kat feared for him. He had walked into a situation he could not possibly understand and now things could only get worse for him.
“I have no doubt,” continued Isabel, “that you would bring unwanted attention to not only Kat but our entire house. We’re comfortable here. It has been a long time since the last mitered buffoon came here, sputtering a few verses in broken Latin and waving his arms around. He was quite harmless to us, but a nuisance nonetheless. We have no desire to repeat that experience.
“Just so you understand, we have no fear of exorcists. You might be tempted to make a lot of noise about the demon who inhabits you, but in all likelihood, you’d be institutionalized if you did. No one really wants to believe that Satan’s wolves walk among the lambs. Not in these times of sophistication and skepticism. But there’s always a chance that your wild statements would reach the right ears. Things are in balance now; we turn a few souls and another few repent. Everyone’s happy and there’s enough activity to keep things interesting. However, there are times when it would take almost nothing to whip up the zealots and upset the balance.
“That, unfortunately, would escalate this oldest of wars to an extent neither side wants. No, until we figure out what to do with you, you’re not leaving.”
Daniel’s mouth hung open.
“Take him to the guest room,” said Isabel to Kat. “Jean-Paul, ensure that security is enabled.”
“What’s happening?” asked Daniel.
Kat stood. “Come with me.”
Daniel’s mind whirled as Kat led him up the stairs.
“Where are you taking me?” he stammered.
Kat ignored the question. “As Isabel said, you made a mistake in coming here. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“So I’m… what? A prisoner?”
“So it seems. Until we decide what to do with you.”
Daniel stopped on the stairs. He couldn’t believe this. “I refuse. I’m leaving.”
“And what would you do if I let you go?
“I’d have to return to the church.”
“Tell them everything. I couldn’t remain silent.”
“Isabel and Jean-Paul won’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen.”
“You can’t keep me here against my will!” Daniel shrieked.
“For someone who has exhibited some intelligence and intuition, you still really don’t know what you’re dealing with. Unless you have a martyr complex, I suggest that you come with me, be quiet, and wait.”
Daniel hesitated, his eyes flitting to the base of the stairs. His escape route took him past the room in which Isabel and Jean-Paul conferred. He couldn’t possibly make it. Besides, Jean-Paul scared him.
“You can’t win this fight,” said Kat.
Daniel allowed Kat to take his uninjured hand and lead him to a door at the end of the long hallway. She opened it, revealing a sumptuously furnished bedroom.
She pushed him into the room and closed the door behind them. His confusion and the sudden proximity of the succubus made him dizzy.
She grasped his upper arm and gazed at him with what appeared to be genuine concern. “I suggest that you don’t try to escape. Don’t give Jean-Paul any excuses. You’ll be comfortable here. I’ll be back up as soon as I can.”
She removed the key from the inside of the door. “I suggest that you rest if you can.”
She exited and he heard the lock turn from the outside.
After Kat’s footsteps had receded, he went to the window and looked out on a dense woodlot. He couldn’t imagine flagging anyone down. He then examined the window itself and noticed the sensors that were undoubtedly connected to the alarm system.
As far as picking the lock, he wouldn’t know where to begin.
He sat on the edge of the bed, defeated.
He was a prisoner.
Kat stood just outside the room in which Isabel and Jean-Paul argued.
“Kill him,” said Jean-Paul again. “It’s the only way.”
Kat knew that this was a very real option, but it was still difficult to hear Jean-Paul say it.
“Let’s examine the possibilities first,” said Isabel with unnerving calm. “I’m unwilling to kill the boy unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”
“Then I will.”
“No,” implored Kat, entering the sitting room.
Jean-Paul turned on her. “You would risk the peace that we’ve enjoyed and bring attention to us now? For a boy, far from home, unlucky enough to have uncovered who resides in his adopted city?”
“There’s got to be another way. I can leave, go to another country. He doesn’t care about you and Isabel.”
“But he knows about us now. We’d still be left with the possibility of exposure.”
“Enough,” said Isabel.
“You think that you can ask him politely to ignore what he’s discovered?”
“Enough,” said Isabel again, forcefully enough to silence them. After several minutes, she asked, “Have you ever visited him?”
“But he appears to know you.” Isabel put emphasis on the word ‘know’.
“I honestly don’t know how. I’ve never visited him, consciously.”
Isabel nodded and fell silent again. Jean-Paul stood in the corner, shaking his head, his eyes shooting daggers at Kat. She considered sticking out her tongue at him and then thought better of it.
“You could bind him,” said Isabel.
Kat scarcely heard her. Bind him. She recoiled at the thought. Killing him would be more merciful. And yet…
“But that is something we must consider very carefully,” Isabel continued. “We can’t let him go, and killing him,” she turned to Jean-Paul, “may just bring to this house the attention that we wish to avoid. We cannot be rash in our decision.
“Jean-Paul, until I have come to a decision, you are to leave the boy alone. Not one hair on his head is to be harmed. Do you understand?”
Jean-Paul scowled and nodded.
“Kat, the boy is your responsibility. He is to remain here for as long as is necessary. If anything more should happen that imperils this house, the blame is yours and yours alone and you shall bear the consequences.”
With that, Isabel swept up the stairs to her quarters.
Jean-Paul glared at Kat furiously and then stalked away.
Once again, Kat stood alone.
They were seated in the priest’s study. Isabel swirled the single-malt scotch in her glass, watching the light flicker playfully through the amber liquid.
“One of your lambs appears to have wandered into the lion’s den.”
The priest raised an eyebrow.
“It’s a complication neither of us needs,” added Isabel.
“We’re comfortable now,” said Isabel.
“Perhaps too comfortable,” mused the priest.
The priest was right, of course. A time that enabled priests and demons to discuss current affairs over a drink couldn’t last. It was a cease-fire, nothing more. But it was a détente even more precious for its fragility. Isabel planned to enjoy it for as long as it lasted. And of late, her enjoyment of it extended to the company of a priest.
The priest stood and positioned himself behind her chair. His hands fell to her shoulders and gently kneaded them. “You’re tense.”
Isabel smiled. “And you know just how to relax me.”
“I’ve had practice.”
After a few minutes, his hands left her shoulders and moved to her forehead, smoothing out the tension that furrowed her brow. From there he ran his fingers through her hair to the location where he knew her horns to be.
Isabel purred her pleasure. “Do you want me to assume the form?”
“Only if you promise to keep your collar on.”
“Done,” he said.
Isabel’s horns materialized from her wavy auburn locks. The priest’s fingers stroked them, tracing the twin spirals from the base to the blunted tips.
After a minute, Isabel said, “I can’t feel that, you know.”
“I can,” said the priest, but took his cue and willed his hands elsewhere.
“What do you propose we do?” asked Isabel.
“Make love with the abandon of the damned?”
“Please don’t talk that way. About the boy.”
“Ah.” He deftly undid the buttons of her blouse and exposed her bare breasts, each crowned with a small pink jewel of a nipple. He cupped their fullness and kneaded them gently. “We could give it a few days. See what happens. Let fate take its course.”
“There is no fate,” said Isabel, a little more sharply than she’d intended. More softly, she added, “There’s conflict and brutality for all of the fleeting moments of peace. But I’d come to the same conclusion.”
“Of course, when either of us feels that intervention is needed, all bets are off. It’s back to our respective corners.”
Isabel sighed. “I know.”
“That being said, we’d have to discuss matters every day.”
“As we’re doing now?”
He pinched her nipples playfully. “We’d be remiss if we didn’t.”
Isabel hummed her pleasure. “Deal.”
In the kind of choreography of those who’ve been intimate for a long time, he walked to the front of the chair and Isabel rose. He wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve missed you,” he said.
“And I you,” said Isabel earnestly.
He unfastened her skirt and allowed it to fall to the floor. “Let me look at you.”
“I’m yours,” she said.
The priest took a step back and allowed his eyes to travel up from her feet to her head. Isabel could see his arousal. His eyes lit upon the horns and he shook his head sadly.
“I know,” said Isabel.
She approached him then and quickly removed his clothing except for his collar, as per their agreement.
Her being shimmered and wings materialized from her back. Like Kat’s, her wings bore feathers rather than the leathery tissue common in depictions of succubi. She walked into his waiting arms and wrapped her wings around him, cocooning him in their soft warmth and pressing her breasts to his chest. She held him tightly and felt his hardness against her abdomen.
“Nothing good can become of this,” whispered the priest.
Isabel didn’t ask whether he meant the two of them or the boy. “Let us try to forget for a little while,” she whispered back.
She reached for the table on which rested her glass of scotch. She took a mouthful and, without swallowing it, squatted before him. She grasped his cock and guided it to her lips. Scotch and her tongue swirled around the thickly veined shaft in her mouth.
“Oh, God,” whispered the priest.
That’s one of the things she found interesting about the priest. He could compartmentalize. He was a genuinely good man, an able leader of his flock, yet he still enjoyed having his cock sucked by a succubus.
After several minutes, she could taste his pre-come mixing with the smoky flavor of the scotch.
“Stop!” he gasped.
She did as he asked and retreated. The priest’s cock, primed and proud, glistened in the subdued lighting of the study. She swallowed the liquid in her mouth and rose to her feet.
Isabel winked. “I know, but I like blended scotch too.”
The priest grinned. “Your turn.”
Isabel allowed herself to be steered to the armchair. The priest had her sit and lowered himself to his knees in front of her.
This was something she treasured – a man who gave himself willingly, with no influence from her. That he was a priest, an agent of the church who professed abstinence among other things, made his actions all the sweeter.
He worked down from her lips, kissing them and then her neck. He brushed his lips against her breasts and then sucked her nipples as though gathering nourishment there. Perhaps he was, thought Isabel.
He pulled her legs toward him so that her ass nearly hung off the chair. Gently he pushed her legs apart.
He lightly licked her. Moreso than any other man she’d been with, he went about his exploration of her in a deliciously unhurried pace. He teased his tongue around the tender flesh that framed her labia for several minutes while ever so gently brushing his fingers her tender folds. At length he pressed the tip of his tongue against her perineum and then commenced a slow and deliberate passage from the very base of her sex to her clitoris, leaving an excited tingle in his wake.
She watched his head between her legs and caught the occasional flash of tongue as it danced on her. Eventually she closed her eyes and gave herself over the feeling of his tongue and fingers. This had nothing to do with feeding; this was pure enjoyment for its own sake. This was a man who wanted to give pleasure without any coercion on her part and who demanded equal pleasure in return. Both might pay a price for their unnatural liaison, but in this moment, it was well worth it.
Isabel felt herself melting under the priest’s ministrations as jolts of electricity warmed her core.
He inserted a finger and hooked it gently, rubbing that blessed spot from the inside while his tongue mirrored the motion on her clitoris. She opened herself wider to him now and tilted her pelvis. She could feel that familiar rush that presaged release. He could feel it too and he quickened his pace.
Her attention focused on that glowing, molten spot of pleasure that radiated a tingling warmth through her being. She gasped as the priest worked mercilessly on those twin spots of ecstasy, one outside and the other inside. Soon the world dissolved into little more than those sensations and the outflowing of release as she arched her back and let herself be swept away.
Ellie woke up after a night of tossing and turning, of thinking of her old bedroom and the comforts it offered. She began to cry; partly blaming her mother for driving her away; yet knowing it was her own choice in seeking the freedom to do as she wanted.
“Well, I’m on my own now, for sure,” she said aloud as she wiped her tears away.
After counting her money, Ellie realized that she would have to get a job in order to have a place to stay and food to eat. Knowing she had to vacate the motel room by eleven that morning, she showered, dressed and headed for the diner Jared had recommended the day before. She took note that Interstate 40 was several blocks from the diner, and that she was now in a town called Cary.
She entered the diner and found a booth away from any of the customers and filled her stomach with pancakes and bacon. She chatted briefly with the waitress, a girl not much older than herself, then left the diner and wandered into a nearby park, sat down on a grassy hillock to figure out what to do next. It wasn’t long before she realized that teenagers without homes have few options.
‘I have to do whatever is necessary to get by, ‘ she told herself, and began to cry once more.
Around two in the afternoon, she left the park and determined to explore the town of Cary.
One of the first things she found was that Cary was cleaner than any town she had ever been to before. Another thing that shook her to the core was the number of police cars patrolling the streets. None stopped to question her, but from the corner of her eye she saw them looking at her and shivered.
Finding a shopping mall, Ellie took refuge in it, feeling she could lose herself among the many shops and customers. She was right, discovering that she blended in with all the women and teenagers already trolling the shops for bargains and items that were far from bargains.
To kill time until dark, Ellie took in a movie and saw it twice. It was getting dark when she wandered from the mall, and began walking along the less traveled streets. When hunger pangs could no longer be put off, she ventured into a greasy café and ordered a hamburger and French fries.
After taking a bite of the burger, Ellie felt someone watching her. She used the window beside her to good advantage and in its reflection saw that a young woman was watching her as she ate. Ellie decided to ignore her, and finished her meal. But when she stepped outside she found the woman was waiting for her.
“Hi,” the woman said in greeting.
“Hi,” Ellie replied, but refrained from saying anything else.
“I haven’t seen you around,” the woman said.
Ellie studied the woman. She really wasn’t that old. She wore a little too much makeup. Her clothing was tight, giving her a sexy look.
“I’m Vivian, but most call me Viv.”
Ellie nodded that she had heard, but said nothing.
“Not going to tell me your name, huh?” Viv said sardonically. “I don’t blame you. Shouldn’t talk to strangers … my own mother told me that. She was wrong about that as well as a lotta other things. But suit yourself. Let’s see if I’m right. You’re on the run. You have some dough, not too much, and you’re looking for a job.”
“So?” Ellie replied defiantly, “What of it?”
“I knew it!” Viv said gleefully. “I just knew it!”
Ellie turned away and began to walk, only to find that Viv had settled in beside her.
“What do you want?” Ellie said, prepared to fight if necessary.
Viv recognized this and sought to calm her fears. “Wait a minute, girl. I’m trying to help you out, you being on the run and all.”
“I’ll say it again, what do you want?”
“Like I said, I want to help a girl in distress.”
“I’m not in distress, ‘ Ellie replied hotly.
“Them cops come around the corner and see us hollering at one another you’ll have plenty of distress, honey.”
“What cops?” Ellie said, suddenly quailing before the woman.
“Didn’t see the sneaky bastards, did you?”
“They’ll be coming around the corner in a second, so let’s start walking like we’re girl friends, okay?”
Ellie fell in beside the woman and sure enough, a squad car drifted by them moments later, hardly giving them a glance.
“Thanks, I guess,” Ellie said, glancing at the woman.
“Viv, call me Viv,” the woman said with a generous smile.
“Ellie,” Ellie admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Ellie, huh? Well, Ellie, us girls got to help one another. It’s a tough world out there.”
They wandered into the park Ellie had spent some time in earlier. “Aren’t you afraid of being in the park after dark?” Ellie asked Viv.
“I make my money here,” Viv said easily. “This place has been very good to me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This is where the john’s come. The cops can’t drive in here, and they’re too damned lazy to walk. I suspect they’re probably afraid to walk in without a support team right behind them.”
“I’m a hooker, Ellie, plain and simple. Man comes by, I offer to suck him, fuck him, or whatever else the man might have in mind. As long as he has the money to pay for my services, I’ll do him and then we go our separate ways.”
Ellie took a step back, and then smiled. Getting laid was fun enough. Getting paid for it sounded great to her young ears.
“Can I make enough to afford a place to live?”
“Sure, and you can move in with me until you have enough to go out on your own. I mean to get your own place. We could work as a team, maybe offering some john’s a two for one deal.”
“Oh… ” Ellie gulped.
Thinking that she had frightened Ellie, Vivian quickly added, “What I mean is, once you get into the trade it won’t seem that bad. After a while, you’ll have done everything there is to do sexually. I really mean that.”
“I thought I’d get a regular job, you know, waitressing, or something.”
“Kiddo, you’re not making any real dough waitressing. Plus before they hire you they want phone numbers and an address, work experience and references, and education. Got any of that stuff?”
“No … no, I don’t.”
“Maybe you see my point then. Why, you can’t even cash a check if someone paid you.”
“Then it’s hopeless…” Ellie said and began to cry.
Taking the teen into her arms and embracing her, Vivian soothingly whispered to her. “Work with me. Everything will turn out just fine.”
“I guess…” Ellie sniffled.
“All right then,” Vivian said, as if the matter was settled. “A john will be coming along soon; it’s just dark enough for them to feel safe.”
“Viv, is it difficult finding these men?”
“Hell, no! They come here looking for it.”
“Would they want someone like me? You know – someone on the run?”
“You’re a sure thing, Ellie. You ain’t a virgin, are you?”
Ellie giggled, “Not hardly.”
“Good. Tell you what. When the first john strolls by here, you hide behind the bushes there. You watch how I handle him. Most are all the same. They say something like, “Hello,” you smile at them. They ask how much … usually they want a blowjob, or whatever. You just tell then the price.”
“What do you charge them?” Ellie inquired.
“Whatever you can get. For instance, you say fifty for a blowjob. If they haggle with you, you might come down to twenty-five. Getting laid is something else. I charge a hundred for that, more if the guy looks like he can afford it. One time I got three hundred from a john.”
“Wow!” Ellie exclaimed. “That’s big money.”
“I want you to understand something, Ellie. I’m setting you up and all, so I think I should get some of your earnings.”
“How much?” Ellie asked, warily.
“Fifteen percent, and that’s not all that much for teaching you the tricks of the trade and keeping you out of trouble.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ellie said, and the two shook hands.
“What do I do?”
“Nothing, just watch me and how I handle them. You can see good from behind that bush over there,” Viv said, and pointed to a spot behind them.
Ellie went to the spot indicated by Vivian and promptly told her: “I can’t see shit from here.”
“I won’t be standing out here when I take on the john. I’ll be…” and she took five steps toward Ellie, then turned in the opposite direction so that she too was hidden from view of any stray passersby. “… right here!”
Ellie began to understand what was about to happen. Viv would meet her john and after agreeing to have sex, they would hide in the bushes just as she was doing.
“Hush, I think someone’s coming this way!”
Ellie went into a crouch trying to make herself less conspicuous, and Vivian stepped out into the pathway they had just left.
“Hello. Nice night for a stroll isn’t it?” she said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.
The man was in his fifties and extremely nervous. “Yeah … hello yourself.”
Viv approached the man, until she was standing right next to him. He couldn’t help but see the swell of her breasts as they lolled happily in the peasant blouse she wore to entice her customers.
“I … I’ve got fifty bucks,” he said nervously.
“What’ll that get me?”
“How does a blowjob sound?”
He laughed, although still nervous. “Um, where? Not right here where anyone could come by and see us.”
Taking him by the arm, Viv gently led him into the area she had told Ellie she would.
“Here, now. Look around, sweetie. Is this good enough?” And without asking, Viv got down on her knees and began to unzip the man’s fly.
After his cock was exposed, Viv said, “I’d like the fifty now, you don’t mind.”
“Oh, sure,” he said, handing her several bills, which she counted, and then tucked away in a pocket with a zipper.
“I … I’ve never done this before,” he said, still very nervous.
“Relax, sweetie, I’ll be very nice to you. Here, see?” That said, she took his penis into her mouth and laved him with her tongue. The man was small and still not fully erect. But Viv kept sucking him and gently rubbing his balls. Taking him from her mouth, she looked up at him, “Are you liking this?”
“God, yes!” he exclaimed.
From her hidden vantage point, Ellie could tell what was happening, but did not have a clear view. Still, it seemed easy enough, especially the way Viv had gotten him to pay her up front. ‘Always get the money first, ‘ Ellie chided herself.
Within another minute the man had expended himself and was hurriedly zipping his fly.
“Did you enjoy it?” Viv inquired innocently.
“Oh, yes,” he replied. “It was very good. I only wish my…”
“Wives tend not to do those things,” Viv said kindly enough. “That’s why I’m out here waiting almost every night for a fine gentleman like you to come along. Will I be seeing you again?”
“I think so,” he answered. “Thank you, and good night.”
And he vanished into the darkness.
Ellie sprang from her hiding place and Viv handed her five dollars.
“What’s this for?” the teen asked.
“You give me 15%, I give you 10%. Not quite even, but I’ve got the experience. Later we may work out different terms, okay?”
“Okay,” Ellie said staring at the easiest five dollars she’d ever earned.
“Now the next trick is all yours. Are you ready?”
“Um, yeah, I guess.”
“No fucking around now. You’re either ready or you’re not.”
“I’m ready, Viv. I’m ready. Fifty for a blowjob, right?”
“That’s right. Now I’m going to make myself scarce. You stick around until a john shows. Got it?”
“Got it!” Ellie said although her knees were trembling.
Viv disappeared into the brush, and Ellie waited for a john to appear. As the minutes crept by without anyone coming down the path, Ellie felt herself growing wet with anticipation. Finally she heard someone approaching and tried to straighten her clothing by brushing it with downward swoops of her hands. Then, with the man almost abreast of her, Ellie remembered to greet him.
“Hello. Nice evening, isn’t it?” she inquired.
The man, a rather young man, was caught off guard by her greeting and stepped back from her in alarm.
“I won’t bite you,” Ellie said, and then, unable to help herself, she giggled.
“I know you won’t bite me,” the young man said. “Are you … are you by any chance, a working girl?”
While the term was unfamiliar to Ellie, she understood him and responded, “Yes, I am. What can I interest you in?”
“I’d like a … a blo … a blowjob,” he stammered.
“I can help you there,” Ellie said. “But it will cost you a hundred dollars.”
“A Hun … hundred dollars!’ he exclaimed, seemingly shocked.
If the young man was shocked, Viv was stunned. ‘She’ll ruin everything!’ she thought, and cursed herself for getting involved with a rank amateur.
“Yes, a hundred dollars,” Ellie said, feeling a kind of power come over her. Instinctively, she knew he would pay her what she was demanding.
“Okay, okay, but you better be good.”
“Have you taken a good look at me?” she asked.
“Err, yes, err, no!” he said, confused.
“Well, look at these,” Ellie said, and lifted her sweater, revealing her pert breasts.
‘Jesus, indeed, ‘ Vivian thought. ‘The girl’s a natural, ‘ she told herself, contradicting her earlier thought.
“Want to taste them?”
“Jesus, yes!” he gulped.
And, cupping her breasts with both hands, she moved closer to him, allowing him to suck first one nipple and then the other.
“Now,” she said abruptly taking her breasts away from him, “the money, please.”
The young man removed a wallet from his hip pocket and fished out five twenty dollar bills and shoved them into Ellie’s hand. Putting the bills into the bottom of her shoe, she replaced the shoe, and knelt before him.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” the young man said.
“What’s your name?” Ellie asked.
“Freddie,” he answered.
“Well, Freddie, I’m gonna give you the best blowjob ever.”
That said, Ellie took his rapidly rising cock in both hands and rubbed it as if trying to start a fire.
Satisfied that he was fully erect she licked the precum from the tip and kissed her way down his shaft.
Ellie had to reach into his trousers to find his testicles, then withdrew them into the open air and popped his cock from between his lips, announcing, “Now I’m gonna lick your balls, Freddie.”
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, and if Ellie had not been holding his manhood by the root as she lapped away at his balls, he would have cum then and there.
Releasing his balls, she sighed and whispered loud enough for Freddie to hear, “They’re so sweet. I’ll get back to them, I promise but I have to suck your big ole cock for a while.”
“Oh, yeah, can you lick it?”
“Mmmm,” and she did just that.
“Oh, oh, careful of the teeth!”
“Mmmm,” and removing him from her mouth, Ellie apologized, “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
“Sweet Jesus!” he groaned. “That’s soooo fuckin’ nice!”
Taking him from her mouth again, she bent her neck in order to lick his testicles as she had promised.
“No! No! Don’t stop!”
“Whatever,” she said, and took him back into her mouth and swirled her tongue over his swollen glands.
“You are great at this,” Freddie admitted.
Holding him tightly, she took him out again and asked,”You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“No, no! I mean, I’ve only had one before, and that was…” Freddie left the sentence dangling like his dick would have been had Ellie not had a tight grip on it.
“Some guy, huh?” she said, taking a guess.
“How’d you know that?” he asked, showing alarm about his secret being revealed.
“Don’t worry about it. We all have to start somewhere,” Ellie said soothingly. “But I’m better, huh?”
“A thousand times…”
“I’m glad,” she purred.
“What … What’s your name?”
“Ellie,” she replied without hesitation.
“No, Ellie, as in Ellen, or Eileen.”
“Oh,” he said, placing his hand on her head, wanting to help her to finish him off.
“Hey, you want me to bite?”
“Don’t go pushing my head. I’ll only take as much as I want to, understand?”
“Yes, sorry,” he said, removing his hand and placing it on her shoulder just to put it someplace.
When she resumed blowing him, Freddie groaned,
“Oh! You’re so warm around me. Can … can I kiss you… after?”
“Mmmm,” she replied.
“Oh, yes!” Freddie exclaimed, “Move up and down, yeah, like that.”
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” And a moment later he was exploding into her mouth. Ellie swallowed some, but remembering his request for a kiss, saved some … for him.
“Oh, Jesus, that was awesome!” he gasped, as his cock dropped from Ellie’s ripe mouth.
“Still want that kiss?” she asked coquettishly.
“S … sure,” he said tentatively, pursing his lips.
‘The little devil,’ Vivian thought as she watched from her hiding place, knowing what Ellie was about to do.
Ellie brought her mouth to his and sent her tongue, liberally coated with his sperm, into his mouth, then sucked his tongue into her mouth.
Freddie never knew he was swallowing some of his semen, so lost was he in the throes of kissing this beautiful girl.
A few minutes later, Freddie, after promising to be back the following night with at least three hundred dollars, disappeared into the darkness.
Vivian wanted to provide a few more pointers to Ellie, but another ‘client’ happened along and she drew him into the bushes for a quick fuck.
When he left, the two women gave each other the agreed upon percentage from their respective
‘tricks’. Then Viv decided to call it a night, for she had information to impart to the young runaway about the do’s and don’ts of fucking a John.
They went to an all night diner, and Viv had coffee and Danish; Ellie a vanilla shake. Viv complemented Ellie on her ability to size up the john’s after only a few brief words with them. “But I’m telling you,” she said, “there’re johns and there’s johns. Some are different as night is too day.”
Dabbing at her lips with a napkin, Ellie said,
“I don’t understand.”
“Some men are easy to read, like your Freddie. But I’m warning you, be careful of all of them. Some are predators, and dangerous to a working girl. You’ve heard about serial killers, right?”
Ellie’s eyes widened as she nodded her head.
“I thought so,” Viv said, also nodding. “It just so happens they like picking on us working girls; making us their victims.”
“God!” Ellie gasped, shocked by the news.
“Yeah, better to be careful around them. All of them. That’s why it’s good to work together, like we did tonight. You know if someone tries something the other can come and help, or get help. Screaming is good. I’ve got a police whistle that I keep with me. I’ll pick one up for you in the morning. Blow that and the police will come running. The pervert will take off, not wanting to risk having to explain himself to them.”
“I had no idea,” Ellie said, obviously shaken by Viv’s information.
“Most johns are okay. Some are weird, but most are normal, if wanting a perfect stranger to blow you is normal.”
Ellie giggled into her straw, obviously feeling better.
“Tell me something, Ellie. How did you know the john would pay you what you asked?”
“He was dressed in expensive clothes, spoke like a college guy, and smelled nice.”
“I’ve had some like that wouldn’t meet me halfway on price. I had to walk away.”
“Really? It never occurred to me,” Ellie told her.
“Maybe you were lucky, maybe not. Just keep what I told you in mind at all times.”
“I will, and thanks Viv. So what kind of perv’s have you met?”
“In this business, over time you’ll meet all of them. There are guys who want to pee on you, or worse.”
“Some want you to do it to them.”
“You did this in the park?”
Vivian laughed a deep hearty laugh. “No, Most of the time I use a motel, or hotel room. It’s really too cold out here in the winter, and then, the vice squad occasionally comes around and makes things uncomfortable for us hookers.”
“Do you have a particular place you use? I ask ’cause I’d guess you’d get a good rate and all, using the place every day.”
“Good question. I have two places that I frequent. One I get half price.”
“No wow about it. It costs me a blowjob later on that evening. Still, it’s worth it considering the money saved. Sometimes I even get the john to pay for the room. Then my ‘friend’ splits the cash with me after the john leaves.”
“You think I should take Freddie to one of these rooms tomorrow?”
“Not a bad idea, Ellie; if he’s paying three hundred, why not? You never know if he’ll turn out to be a cash cow.”
“A cash cow, gee, I never heard that one before.”
“I should fill you in on the cops.”
“What about them? I mean, they catch me doing it, I get arrested, right?”
“Not necessarily. See, if the john you’re with is somebody important, they may let you both go. Or, they might take the john’s money … and yours too, for that matter. And before they let you go, you’ll have to give them a freebie or two.”
“Oh, no, it’s never that simple. They’ll ask you questions; all kinds of questions. They do this to see if you know anything about any crimes committed recently, or to see if you know anyone they happen to be looking for. In other words, they try to make you an informer. Whatever you do, don’t give up any information too easily. They won’t believe you. Let them slap you around a little, or threaten you with serious time first.”
Ellie didn’t care for the part about getting slapped around at all, and said so.
“Its life, sweetie, think of the alternative – jail time.”
“Oh, yeah,” she said simply. “That is worse.”
The two talked for another hour before calling it quits and left the diner. It was two in the morning, fairly early for hookers to knock off work.
Ellie met Freddie the following night in the park, and sure enough, he had the money, handing it to her as soon as they met.
“I’ve never done it with a girl as pretty as you,” he said right off.
Ellie flushed. She was not used to compliments from men. Usually she was gaga over them and so horny she couldn’t wait to spread her legs. But Freddie was different; she found herself growing sweet on him. She was well aware that Vivian had stressed that she not get involved with her johns, but still, there was something about Freddie.
She brought him to the room Vivian recommended; she would blow the desk clerk afterward. That had already been established. She did not gouge Freddie for room money, thinking three hundred should entitle him to a warm bed.
To her surprise, he was shy at first. She chided herself for not rubbing his dick and making him hot right away, but she was enjoying her time with him, wanting to prolong it as long as necessary. Part of her reasoning was that Viv would have her out walking the park as soon as she finished with him. The other reason, of course, was her liking him and wanting to have him return again, ‘And,’ she told herself, ‘Viv can’t bitch about that.’
They started off sitting in the only chair in the dingy hotel room, a rickety armchair. Ellie coaxed Freddie into a brief necking session, kissing him on the mouth, encouraging him until he sent his tongue out to meet hers.
“Touch me, Freddie,” she cooed, and he ran a hand along her leg, up and down and Ellie found herself growing aroused.
‘Hmmm, ‘ she thought, ‘I think I’m liking this,” and she began to work the zipper of his fly.
Once his reasonably sized cock came into view, Freddie suggested they get on the bed.
“Sure, baby,” Ellie replied. “Want me to get on top?”
“Sure,” he said, “you lead, I’ll follow.”
“Oh, you’re so cute!” she giggled as she fitted a rubber on his weenie.
Settling down on him and drawing his dick into her recesses, she began to rock to and fro. Freddie came quickly, jetting a full load into the tight fitting rubber. Ellie took pains in removing the rubber from his limp dick. She had never used one before, and marveled at the amount of life-forming fluid contained in the skin-like sac.
Freddie started to put his underwear on, but Ellie touched his thigh and shook her head. “We’re not finished lover boy,” she said in a husky tone.
“I thought…” he began, but Ellie put a hand round his neck and pulled him to her and kissed him. They necked for almost thirty minutes, Ellie thoroughly enjoying every minute of it. Freddie couldn’t have been happier and he was rock hard when her mouth closed over him; and as she blew him, he explored her finely toned body, ending up by fingering her pussy, already wet and receptive to his single digit entry.
Then, to Freddie’s delight, Ellie began to buck against his finger.
“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, almost frightened at the prospect.
“Yeah…” she gasped, having taken his member from between her lips. “I’m gonna cum all right. Keep that up Freddie, just like that!”
Ellie couldn’t believe it when instead of proceeding, he stopped.
“What … Freddie!” she cried in way of complaining. But Freddie, highly inflamed by her words, picked Ellie up and brought her back to the armchair and bent her over the chair so her face was buried in the cushions, her behind up in the air. Freddie roughly pulled her legs apart, and Ellie offered no resistance as she was breathing heavily, turned on by his actions, and caught up wondering what he was up to.
She found out soon enough, for Freddie started feeling her ass with one hand and her pussy with the other.
Ellie liked it and said a few encouraging words to that effect. He responded by slipping two fingers into her sodden snatch, while his other hand clutched at her ass and gave it the hardest squeeze she’d ever had. Several finger thrusts later, Ellie felt her orgasm building.
Freddie had no idea of the response he was extracting from his rented lover. So when he experimented with trying to send his thumb into her asshole and she went over the edge and screamed with pleasure, poor Freddie thought he’d done some type of damage to her cunt and stopped cold.
“No! No! Keep going!” she screamed even louder, thinking her climax was about to be taken from her.
Then his cock was pushing into her cunt, and with one thrust she cried out, “Yes! That’s it! That’s it!”
Each subsequent thrust forced her face deeper into the chair’s cushion, muffling her cries and moans, sounds that mingled with that of his stomach slapping against her dampened flesh aroused Freddie all the more.
Ellie was into it in a big way, and looped her feet around his legs and bore down, shoving her ass back to meet his thrusts. They continued in this fashion until Ellie remembered how wonderful his finger had felt in her as.
Twisting her head to one side, she called out to him, “Freddie, do my ass again … you know, with your finger!”
Freddie had a way to go before he came a second time and so was happy to oblige her. He had never experienced anything like this and didn’t know what was right or wrong. His fingers moved to her rectum and two of them pushed against her tight hole.
“One, Freddie! One finger!” she yelped, feeling the pain from his anal intrusion.
Glancing down, Freddie realized his mistake and pulled away, only to send his middle finger into her as she had asked. This time his finger slipped deep inside and Ellie had to stifle another scream of pleasure. Of course the sudden penetration of his finger hurt some, but the subsequent exhilaration far outweighed the minor discomfort.
“Now fuck me!” she cried out, and he began pounding away at her, his finger finding an accompanying rhythm that revived the swell of Ellie’s orgasm. This was much deeper than the one she had experienced earlier.
“Freddie! I’m coming!”
Freddie doubled his efforts and within seconds her orgasm hit her so hard she was overwhelmed and appeared to blackout. Freddie slowed down but did not stop his thrusting. He did extract his finger from her ass and tendered it to her mouth, and like a baby accepting a mother’s nipple, she took it between her lips and gave suck.
She laid there, her ass sticking up, face buried in the cushion, breathing hard. Freddie stared at her puckered asshole, now partly open, making it as erotic an invitation to an anal fuck as one could imagine. Reasoning that she wanted him in there, having demanded he stick his finger in, he took careful aim, centered his cock on the quivering pucker and sent it into her ass.
“Freddie, stop. It’s hurting me,” she yelled. And to his credit and her surprise, he halted.
Ellie felt sorry for him, he was the john, yet he’d gotten her off and here he was trying to cum and she was denying him. ‘What the hell do I think I’m doing?’
“Fuck my pussy, Freddie,” she cooed in her sexiest voice, “My pussy.”
He was into cunt instantly, fucking her harder than ever. She started to cum on his fourth thrust and clutching his cock with her vaginal muscles, kept coming until after Freddie had emptied his balls into the rubber he had on.
When they had both calmed down and cleaned up. Ellie thought to ask him why he’d gone after her asshole.
“You … you” he stammered, reverting to the shy young man he had been when they first met, “… told me to stick my finger in. I … I thought you wanted it back there. I never… I’d never hurt you, Ellie, it seemed like you wanted it and I….”
“It’s all right, Freddie. I forgive you. I was a bad girl asking you to finger me there. I don’t know why I did it. I never have before. Maybe I’ll let you do me back there someday. But I’ll have to use a lot of lubrication first.”
“You’d let me do you there … after what just happened?”
“Sure, I’m a professional, but I’m new at it.”
It occurred to her that her next trick might want her ass, and she changed her mind, thinking, ‘If it’s going to happen sooner or later, so why shouldn’t he be the one to do it.”
She studied him, an n innocent as far as she was concerned. She decided to let him have her ass if he wanted it.
“Freddie,” she said, “you know, I copped your cherry, so this would only let you return the favor, see?”
She rummaged in her small purse, came out with a tube of KY Jelly and showed it to him. “When your wiener is up to it again, we’ll try it okay?”
“I… I don’t think we’ll have time to do it tonight, Ellie,” he said, and the expression on his face was so forlorn it made her want to cry.
“I have to get back… I have obligations,” he said, pulling out each word with the greatest reluctance.
“I don’t understand?” Ellie said, caressing his flaccid member, hoping it would revive and prolong their time together.
“Ellie… I’m a priest,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t be with you… I’m committing a grave sin. I’ve taken a vow of chastity and, God forgive me, my being with you, while the happiest time of my life, and is a mortal sin in the eyes of God.”
“You’re a priest?” she gasped.
“But you’re a john… priests don’t walk into the park looking for a blowjob,” she murmured, not fully comprehending the situation.
“I… I knew you girls were in the park. Several men came into the confessional and told me so. It preyed on my mind for months. Then yesterday I found myself walking into the park. I was looking for you.”
“Freddie, I… I only began yesterday. You were my first… really, you were my first customer.”
His brow furrowed, “Strange,” he said, “very strange. I was your first, you say?”
“Please, Freddie, don’t go away!”
“I have to go,” he glanced at his watch. “I’m running late already. I have to say Mass in thirty minutes. Oh, God, how will I manage it?”
She took his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips as softly as she could manage. “You’ll manage. Think of me while you’re up on the altar.”
“Think of you? Are you crazy? I’d be carrying the host to the parishioners sporting an erection. Everyone would know.”
“No one will know anything, Freddie. Not unless you tell them. You being a priest, won’t they all be looking up to you, and not at you? I mean, you set the example, right?”
“I suppose. But I can’t ever come back to you, Ellie. It’s impossible.”
“You do what’s best, Freddie. If you want me, I’ll be in the park tomorrow at seven. Think about me,” she said, teasing him, but not understanding why she was doing it. Think about my ass, and how inviting it is.”
“Ellie!” he cried and sounded lost and forlorn. “Don’t torment me that way!”
“Okay, then, its goodbye. Freddie, I want you to know that you weren’t just a paying customer to me. I really like you, I mean it. I really, really like you.” She kissed him again, and since he was now fully dressed, shoved him toward the door.
“See ya!” she called after him as he left to return to his parish. She took her time dressing, examining herself in the dresser mirror every step of the way. Imagine that, a priest. Wait ’til I tell Vivian that.
Ellie picked up her purse and got ready to leave, and as she closed the motel door, remembered she had a blowjob to bestow on the desk clerk.
A girl’s work is never done; she thought, imagine that, I fucked a priest … and got paid for it.
Ellie’s mother, Mavis Jones, was at her wit’s end. A week had raced by since her daughter had run off. She had gone to the high school and questioned most of Ellie’s classmates, including Margie on several occasions. She had badgered Margie’s mother into eavesdropping on her daughter to see if Ellie was calling her after hours. None of this had proven beneficial.
The police offered little if any help, telling her there were thousands of runaways and since Ellie was eighteen there was little if anything they could do to force her back if they should find her.
She tried the FBI and received much the same message, only they were more polite. That afternoon, Donny, the boy who had seduced Ellie and induced her into the orgy, knocked on her front door.
“Mrs. Jones,” he had begun, and his eyes were full of concern that Mavis refrained from slamming the door in his face.
He may have heard from her, she thought as she ushered him into the living room. Wringing her hands in front of her, she turned to face Donny and asked, “Have you heard from her? Have you heard anything?”
He looked at her and saw the resemblance to Ellie. It was remarkable. This woman didn’t look old enough to have had a teenager. Remembering why he was there, he grew embarrassed and blushed, then stared at his feet as he replied in a monotone, “No, ma’am, I haven’t heard anything. Um, neither have any of the others.”
On hearing the word “others’ uttered, Mavis flashed back to the scene that had greeted her when the door to Donny’s apartment had opened and she’d stepped inside.
Donny had opened the door in the nude. His semi-erect penis came to mind, and she glanced at his crotch. Donny was becoming excited by her closeness and resemblance to Ellie, who had been perhaps the best fuck of his life.
Ellie’s girlfriend, Margie had just ended a kiss with another woman and if she had seen correctly, and she knew she had, there was sperm trickling from the corner of the teen’s mouth. The two had been swapping the man’s sperm … Mavis thought back to her formative years in high school and the time she had swapped spit with Norman Banks in his backseat, while enjoying her introduction to French kissing. But sperm … it was disgusting!
And that had only been a fleeting glance, for Mavis was searching the seemingly crowded room for Ellie, and had found her lying nude on a couch, a strange man’s penis against her cheek. Mavis knew her daughter had just blown him, for he was not at all hard. She dismissed the sane thought that they had not done it yet, for this was insanity, pure and simple. She had arrived too late to prevent it and felt totally humiliated for her apparent failure as a single parent responsible for Ellie’s safety.
Mavis did not recall screaming out her daughter’s name, nor telling her to get dressed and hustling her out and into her car. What she remembered vividly was Margie’s refusal to leave with her and her own thoughts at the time, that the young girl was doomed to become a whore of the worst sort. But Maggie was back in school, had not been punished for her actions as she had punished Ellie, and it was her daughter who had run off, not Margie.
The image of Margie absorbing that man’s penis into her mouth as she was herding Ellie out the door remained fixed in her mind. Unconsciously she found herself staring at Donny’s crotch as the bulge within his slacks grew larger and larger until a stain appeared and he made an attempt to adjust himself, and caught her staring at him.
“I … I’m sorry,” he stammered, positive she would be on the phone to the police in seconds.
“No … It’s me who should be sorry. I was staring at you. You’re a man, you can’t help yourself.”
“But … I…” he started to say.
“You’re obviously aroused, but why? What did I do to get you that way?”
“How… how can I put it,” Donny said, trying to formulate the right words and not offend Mrs. Jones. “I find you… attractive, of course. You are you know.”
Mavis held up a hand as if to cut him off, but she found herself strangely excited at his compliment. His words as well as the erection she had brought about had made her wet, and she was wondering what exactly she was going to do about it.
Donny’s next sentence settled the matter for her.
“You bear an uncanny resemblance to your daughter,” he said so softly that Mavis had to strain to hear him.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to offend you,” he blurted, knowing he had gone too far.
“No, don’t be sorry,” she said almost as quietly as he. “Please, repeat what you just said a moment ago.”
“You… bear a strong resemblance to Ellie.”
“And… you’re attracted to me because of that?”
“I don’t know about that. I do know that I’m attracted to you and only you, right now.”
Looking at his erection pointing at her from within his slacks, she said wryly, “I can certainly see that for myself.”
Donny had not been with many women in his short lifetime, but he knew an invitation when he heard one.
“Shall I take it out and allow it to breath?”
Mavis pondered the invitation for a macro-second, and then answered him. “By all means, all good things should be allowed to age… and to breathe.”
Donny wasted no time, and in a moment, Mavis was staring at his rigid pole, poised and ready to engage her.
They were on each other like animals. “Hold me,” she told him. And when he wrapped his arm around her she moaned, “No, no! Tear my clothes off!”
Instantly he complied, frightening her, delighting her and causing her to wonder what other nasty things they would do with one another.
With her clothing shredded and pooled around them, they lay on the carpeted floor a tangle of arms and legs as they sought to find the right way to culminate their frenzied tryst.
Donny’s hands gripped her wrists, not roughly, but not gently either.
“That’s it,” she husked suggestively. His legs were straddled outside hers. His cock prodded and fumbled to find her opening.
Mavis rocked her hips from side to side, half helping, half not. Then with a guttural grunt, he was in thrusting firmly until he was fully seated.
The friction of his cock as it dragged along her labia and tugged at her clit, made her shudder.
They rolled over and then rolled over again, and now Donny was on top, his legs constraining Mavis’ from the outside, pushing her knees together.
To Mavis, so long without sex, his cock was huge.
“I can’t believe how you fill me,” she gasped, and followed with, “Now fuck me.”
Donny obliged, using short, half-strokes that culminated with a straining, bending thrust.
Mavis’s body twitched, as he brushed over or against her clit with each movement, as she was forced by her position to just lay there, squirming helplessly as he kept her pinned down.
Prepared to kill whatever lay in his path, he was surprised that a sharp tap to the immobile mass caused a pained grunt. Using the toe of his boot he shifted what became apparent was a man. Well a boy. He gasped softly when he came across the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Though rimmed with red they still shined like emeralds.
A moan from the pitiful creature brought his eyes to a full mouth that was cracked and dry. As if on cue a wickedly pink tongue poked out in an attempt to wet those lips. The effect was instantaneous the sex between his legs tightened as he imagines what that mouth would look and feel like wrapped around his cock. He could see it now the lad would be on his knees his hands chained in iron at his back. He would have his prick buried so deep in the boy’s throat that those eyes would tear and pled wordlessly for a respite that would not be forth coming.
He would bury his hands in those thick curls and force the boy’s mouth to work his sex at a faster pace as he neared completion. Once that familiar tingle at the base of his spine started, when the heat pooling in his belly turned into an inferno, he would tear the boy’s head away from his groin and fire his seed across those bruised and swollen lips.
“P…please” the sound drew him from his sinful thoughts and he focused on the boy that had cast pleading eyes upon him. The priest cast one look at his men who stood less than two feet away. In the dimming light they assessed him and he them. Any one of these men would rape and kill the lad if given half the chance. They would share him over and over until he was of no more use to them or himself and then they’d kill him. They would slice his throat from ear to ear.
He should really leave the boy here and let nature finish what it had started. He should really check the boy to see what valuables he carried on his person. It was clear that the boy had no business being out here. The boy was so unlike him and his men he was … delicate. It was also clear that everything that he should do he wasn’t going to do. He was going to take the lad back to their hideout, and dare any of these men try to take the boy without his permission. They would find themselves on the perilously wrong side of his blade. The boy was his!
Stooping down over the boy he lifted the lad and carried him back to where the men and his horse waited. He saw the question in their eyes as he approached with the boy. Yes. He saw the question but he knew they would not be so foolish as to question his judgment. He climbed onto the saddle after he had placed the boy securely on it first. He ordered the horse on with a nudge to its side with his heel without a further glance at the men behind him.
AROUND THE CAMPFIRE: LATER THAT NIGHT
“What’s the priest gunna do wit’ that boy? Marcus inquired of the men gathered around the fire in the abandoned church that they called home.
“D’you think he’ll let us have a go at him?” Murdoc asked not bothering to answer Marcus’ question.
“It’s been ages since any of us has had a tight arse to plough. An’ that boy in there looks more than ripe. Don’t he lads?”
“I wouldn’t even mind having the Priest’ leftovers, so long as I’ll be able to fuck that boy it’ll be alright.” A series of grunts and agreements sounded around from the eight men that huddled around the fire. Their eyes gleamed with maliciousness in the light.
“You’d better not let the Priest hear you talkin’ like that.”
The men jumped when Doc spoke as they hadn’t heard his approach.
“He’s attached to that boy and he’d kill any one of you that so much as looked cross- eyed at him” Doc continued.
“So if I were you I’d keep my thoughts close to my heart lest the Priest catches wind of them.”
All the men turned their eyes to the stairwell that led up to what used to be the *rectory*. Up there the Priest was with the boy, he’d been up there since they’d come back earlier that evening. The only person the Priest had spoken to was Doc, clearly even Doc had outgrown his welcome and been relegated to the *church floor* with the rest of the men.
“What are we eating tonight?” Doc asked. Immediately Harry a rather shy freckled man handed him a silver plate with some buttered bread and a hunk of meat, along with a goblet of wine. Doc thanked him before sitting down in one of the pews; he didn’t feel like socializing with these men after he’d heard how they’d spoken of the boy. Discussing him as though he were no more than a slab of beef to be devoured. His thoughts were interrupted as Harry approached him and sat down next to him on the bench. His food sat untouched next to him as Harry opened his mouth to speak.
“Doc” he whispered aware that the other men were not too far away.
“Doc y…y…you hav…vv…ent b…b…been t…t…to see m…m…me in a while” he stammered. God he hated that he always got tongue tied and nervous when around the Doc. Dear God but he couldn’t help it, just one look from Doc and his heart raced and his blood pounded through his veins. He worried his lower lip and wrung his hands nervous gestures just like his stammering. He could feel a blush rise up his neck and spread across his cheeks. He chanced a glance up at Doc through his lashes; he had a smile on his lips.
“I know Harry; I’ve missed not having you warm my bed at night. You know things have been rather dangerous as of late, a lot of injuries I’ve had to tend to.” He raised his hand to brush the heated flesh on the man’s face.
“But tomorrow night will be just for you and I. The boy should sleep through the night but there is no guarantee. I’ll have to be alert in case Priest needs me.” He whispered against Harry’s mouth.
His tongue darted out to bathe his lower lip, he heard the choked inhale from the other man and he took advantage of the parted lips. Slipping his tongue inside Harry’s mouth felt like a joyous reunion after a painfully long absence. He flicked his tongue over the other man’s shyer muscle attempting to coax it into playing with his. He licked the inside of Harry’s cheek, his teeth, his gums wanting to taste and posses every inch of the man who was just as much his as he belonged to Harry.
He groaned into Harry’s mouth when his tongue finally decided to come out and play. His lungs started to burn but he didn’t care he wanted, needed more. It had been too long, too many nights of not burying his cock deep into that tight passage. Being so deep and pounding so hard that he couldn’t tell where he ended and Harry began. His hands had woven themselves into Harry’s hair tugging him closer. His cock throbbed, it ached. Finally he tore his mouth away and sucked air into his burning lungs.
Taking in the state of the man before him, his cock lurched painfully and fluid leaked from the tip. Harry was flushed and panting his eyes wide and dilated with passion. His lips were bruised and wet from the kiss they had shared. Harry whimpered and reached for him once more.
The chapel had fallen into disrepair, the people no longer felt any need of it and it had been in misuse for many years, stood dark and cold at the edge of the village, like the shell of a body which has lost its heart, its soul, its purpose.
But once every week, on what would once have been a holy day, Agatha would sit at her window which overlooked the chapel and see the bowed figure scuttling through the grounds, no more than a shadow sometimes, other times stark in the light of the moon to show her the cowl, the long robe, the monastic movement and the pious pose.
As she waited, curled in the seat of the window, her face as pale as distant starlight, one hand delved beneath her skirts, rummaged beneath the layers of silk that she always favoured until it found her cold thigh.
Fingers inching along the smooth flesh, slowly as if it was another who was teasing her, they slipped between her legs and began to strum the lips of her cunt, exciting her as she waited. And then there he was!
In an instant she was up from her seat and down the stairs, out into the night and hurrying across to the chapel, skirts billowing behind her so that she seemed like some dark vengeful spectre.
She could see him in a pew, the priest, as soon as she opened the chapel door could make out his bowed head, the slumped shoulders, the contrite attitude. Slowly she slipped through the door and made her way towards him.
The rustle of her skirts must have caught his attention, or perhaps it was simply the chill of her presence, he turned and his eyes grew wide as he picked her out of the gloom, not expecting his customary solitude to be disturbed. She sat beside him, dark and brooding, looking to him like a person who might have sinned.
If only for the fact that Agatha had no belief in sin.
“Will you help me, Father?” she asked softly, turning to him slightly, her skirts parting at the knees to give him a glimpse of her thighs.
In the gloom her flesh looked paler than ever, her dark lips bloody.
“If I can,” the priest answered, his voice a little hoarse as he fought to draw his eyes from the bared flesh.
“I have a confession to make, Father.”
“Then-” He looked to the confessional in the far corner of the chapel, was about to rise, but Agatha placed her hand on his knee.
“No, here,” she insisted. “We will speak here.”
Her eyes glared at him, there was no hint of contrition in them, but the priest nodded. “Very well my child.”
Agatha smirked to hear him call her “child”. As if! But he would learn!
“Father, I have wicked ways,” she began, her voice low so that he had to strain to catch her words, leaning a little towards her.
“Sinful thoughts? Sinful deeds?”
She smiled, there was no such thing as sin, said, “I have thoughts of hurting men, Father, of using them.”
“Not loving them? And do you put these thoughts into effect?”
“Oh yes!” she said, her hand tightening on his knee. “And more. Thoughts of women, too. But with women it is desire. I desire sexual contact with them, wish to lie in their arms.”
“And do you act on these desires too?” the priest asked, his voice breaking a little.
“Oh yes, with Bittersweet,” Agatha answered.
“My lover. We lay together and caress each other, kiss each other, finger ourselves and each other and make each other come.”
The priest cleared his throat and crossed his legs, momentarily dislodging Agatha’s hand. Beneath the long black cassock he wore she was sure he would have an erection.
She brought her face even closer to his, her eyes wide so that he could lose himself in them, asked, “So if it is love then can it be wrong?”
“It … it is a sin my child.”
“A sin?” she repeated, as if she did not know the word, and her hand slipped from his knee into his lap. “But surely not, Father? It feels so good.”
“Pleasure can be a sin, my child,” he said, as her hand began to move gently back and forth across his groin, the back of her hand pressing against one thigh, then her palm against the other, her knuckles rocking back and forth over his genitals.
“And pain too?” she asked, suddenly clenching her fingers around his balls.
He let out a cry and she released him immediately, jumped to her feet.
“But if I have sinned then I must be punished!” she exclaimed, standing before him, her back to him. Slowly she raised her skirts to her waist, bared her arse to him, backed towards him so that the naked buttocks were only inches from his face.
“Do you wish to punish me, Father?” she asked him, over her shoulder, and moments later she felt fingers tentatively touching her pale white flesh.
Then there was a pitiful sob and they fell away.
Agatha turned, sneered down at him, spat in his face. “You poor sad slut!”
Bending over him, she began to unfasten his cassock, from the neck down to the hem. He offered no resistance, made no protest, when her hair fell over his face in a fragrant musty veil he made no attempt to brush it away. Parting his cassock, Agatha bared his body. His flesh was white, it had never seen the sun and was as pale as hers, but his cock was thick and throbbing, twitching in the cold air of the chapel.
Holding her skirts high, Agatha fell down on top of him, sitting so hard on his cock that it caused him to gasp as it hit the roof of her cunt. She stirred her body around on top of him, her hips moving in liquid circles, and soon he responded, rising to meet her. She rolled to one side, lying on the hard pew and drawing him on top of her. She pinched his nipples to make him cry, raked her nails across his chest to make him sob, held him tight to her with her arms and legs, crushing him as if in a vice.
The priest thrust into her but he was inexperienced, he was clumsy and crude and he had no control, within seconds he was coming inside her with a fervour which he had previously reserved for his god, filling her with his thick creamy spunk. And all too soon he was soft inside her.
Agatha kicked him away from her, heard him fall heavily to the stone floor. She sat on the edge of the pew, her legs wide apart and dripping his spunk back onto his face, into his open mouth, spooned her fingers inside her to continue her own excitement and then wiped them across his cheeks, anointed his brow with them. He was sobbing, crying that he had sinned, and she stood, kicked him in the side as she climbed over him.
“Stupid little man! There is no sin!” she told him, walking quickly across to the altar.
There was a large wooden cross there, the height of a man, and putting her whole weight behind it she toppled it over in a crashing cloud of dust, rested it at an angle against the altar.
“What are you doing? That is desecration!” the priest cried.
Agatha strode angrily back to him, her boots echoing against the walls of the chapel, reverberating about that once sacred place, gripped him viciously by the hair and tugged.
“Come with me you sad little shit!” she said, and pulled him along, dragging him across the floor on hands and knees to fling him against the cross.
Then, kneeling astride him, her skirts like a dark pool spilling over him, she bound him too it, tied his hands outstretched, his feet, wrapped stout leather straps around his chest and waist. Another around his neck was buckled so tight that it almost choked him. He was unable to move, bound helpless before her.
She stepped back to regard him, a cold smile on her face entrancing him, as if draining the last ounce of purity and virtue from his body. Then she clapped her hands, called, “Ready?”
The priest was unable to move his head, but his eyes flicked to the chapel door as it creaked open, saw a second woman enter, walk down the aisle to stand beside Agatha and take her hand.
“My lover, Bittersweet,” Agatha told the priest, kissing her on the lips, finally showing some tenderness in her eyes. “He says we have sinned,” she said softly to Bittersweet.
Bittersweet laughed. “Shall we teach him? Shall we show him what sin is, my love?”
The two women approached the crucified priest, Bittersweet reached out and ran a hand over his belly, his chest. Then she closed her fingers around his nipple and dug her sharp nails into his chest.
The priest screamed aloud but his cock rose erect, jutting out from his body so that he became a travesty of a martyr, a sinful parody of a saint.
Agatha laughed and slapped it hard, bringing another anguished cry from him.
They both caressed his face, hands running over his cheeks, parting his lips. Bittersweet brought her face close to his, licked his mouth, then took his bottom lip between her teeth and bit. When Agatha nipped at his neck and Bittersweet drew her nails across his chest, over his belly, the two women had him weeping like a child.
Agatha and Bittersweet were now excited, for each other, with each other. They smiled into each other’s eyes and embraced, kissed deeply, tongues meeting in a frenzy. One on either side of the priest, their bodies pressing against him, they folded him in their embrace, almost suffocating him with their flesh. His body was quivering between them, tears coursed down his cheeks as Bittersweet cupped his balls and Agatha grasped his cock.
“Well, priest?” asked Agatha, her lips close to his ear, her words scorching his cheek.
“There is no sin,” he agreed as he came, his cock spurting over their hands.
On the third day of Hrive ‘Isia
The sound of laughter, gaiety, and joy greeted Gilraen as she made her way through the village. Her thoughts were her own. She wove her way around couples, and families, as well as various merchants who tried to catch her eye. Gilraen had no reason to speak with any of them, her goal was not to strengthen friendships, or empty her father’s coffers. She sought knowledge, knowledge that only one woman in the village could give her — for a price. The weight of Gilraen’s pursed slapped against her hip. Mistress Ireth would be paid handsomely for her silence.
The night before Gilraen had lain in bed, her body aroused from Turgon’s attentions, her mind full of hostility from his words. The more she lay thinking about the way his fingers skated across her skin, and the tender kisses he’d trailed along her throat, the more she came to realize that her inexperience at seduction would cause her more harm than good. Her quest to begin looking for her own cluster of male admirers would fail if she did not learn how to properly seduce her intended targets. The idea of reaching out to Ireth had at first disgusted her, but the longer she mused, the more she convinced herself it was her only answer.
Mistress Ireth’s cottage was set further back from the rest of the village. The path to her doorstep was worn, the rocks smooth from the countless many that had traveled across them. Gilraen bit her lip, looked around, caught a few villagers’ eyes and glared back at them. Each one quickly turned away, some chuckling, others whispering to their companions and others scurrying away as if they had more important things to do than to worry about their Princess.
The young virgin woman shook her hair, squared her shoulders and lifted her fist to rap heavily on the door. A low curse and a high pitched giggle greeted Gilraen. Her cheeks grew flush; she thought of turning away, running back to the castle and hiding herself within the walls of her room. Seconds before her cowardly self gave in, the door to the cottage opened. Gilraen’s cheeks grew a brighter shade of pink. Mistress Ireth stood before her, the opening of her dress had been pulled apart, two large breasts hung low, and gently swayed as the whore leaned against the door. It took the woman only a moment to realize who her guest was.
Gilraen watched with little satisfaction as Ireth hurried to cover herself. “Princess Gilraen,” Ireth gasped, stepped back, and curtsied. Gilraen walked in, glanced around the room, and paused when her eyes rested on the man who had cursed at her intrusion.
The old priest stuttered, as he reached down to grab his pants. “Uh — Princess, I — uh — is something wrong?” Huro scurried to put on his shirt, tie his slacks, and grab his shoes. “I — uh — I was just…” Silence hung in the air. Gilraen frowned. Huro’s shoulders grew slack and a deep sigh escaped his lungs. “I’m sorry. I shall pack my belongings and…”
“No!” Ireth cried. She closed the door behind the Princess and hurried to the Priest’s side. “You should not have to leave. I will go. This is your home more than mine and…”
“Enough,” Gilraen shouted, “I’ve not said one word since walking over the threshold. “Father Huro, please do not let this trouble you,” her hand swept toward the rumpled bed. “I do not attempt to know the desires of a man and cannot find fault in something I don’t understand.”
Huro swallowed the lump in his throat, and looked questionably at Ireth. “Why are you here? And who told you where to find me?” he asked Gilraen.
This time it was the Princess’s turn to blush. “I was not looking for you,” she turned away; “I was looking for Mistress Ireth.”
Huro stepped away, curious as to what the Princess needed from the village whore. “Yes, Mistress, I am curious — I want to…” Gilraen took a deep calming breath, glanced at the Priest and then back to the floor. “I wish to please a man in bed so I have come seeking advice on how to properly seduce him, and then bed him.”
Huro choked on the air in his lungs, bringing Gilraen’s face to a brighter red. “Princess, surely you don’t wish to seek advice from Ireth,” he gasped.
Ireth turned to the Priest, her hands rested on her hips. “And why wouldn’t she? Can you think of another who could better instruct our Lady?”
“Well, no — but — but — you can’t, she’s the Princess and –”
“Enough!” Gilraen shouted again. She detached the bag of coins from her waist and handed them to Ireth. “Here, for your silence.”
A slim hand, aged from time reached out and took the offering, noted the weight and grinned. “Your Highness, it will be a pleasure instructing you. What questions do you seek?”
Huro grumbled loudly, “Well, I will not be witness to this, it’s disgraceful and…”
“Father Huro,” Gilraen emphasized the man’s profession, “please remain; you are someone I trust and perhaps you will have knowledge that Ireth doesn’t. You are a man after all and it is obvious you enjoy the bedding ritual.”
“But I can’t — I won’t — no. I shall take my leave and -”
“It is an order,” Gilraen stated, her tone of voice left little room for disobedience. “Now, Mistress Ireth, please tell me the first step of seduction.” The Princess of Lúinwë sat down on a nearby chair and looked intently up at the whore before her, and the Priest to her left.
A minute seemed to tick by as the three occupants waiting for something to happen. Gilraen said nothing more; instead just lifting a brow to Ireth, indicating her patience was waning. Ireth dropped the bag of coins on the table, and walked over to Huro. “Please sit down, Father.” When Huro moved to take possession of another chair, Ireth stopped him, “no, on the bed.” His brows shot up, as did Gilraen’s.
“I am sure our young Princess will only be brave enough to come to me once, and so I must be thorough in my teaching. Princess, I ask only that you listen and remain in your seat. This will be awkward for all of us, but if you truly wish to please a man in bed, it is not by dining room flirtations or frolicking on the dance floor that will gain his favor, it is pleasuring him — and if you are fortunate, he will pleasure you back.”
Gilraen said nothing. Her pulse raced as her mind worked to understand what Ireth had in mind. She watched as the experienced woman, pushed Huro back. His knees buckled and his hands gripped the edge of the bed. “This is not right,” he muttered; his gaze flew back and forth between the two women, both beautiful in their own way.
“It is what it is,” Ireth purred. Her hand moved to caress Huro’s wrinkled cheeks. Her nails scrapped gently across his unshaven beard. “A clean face, free of hair is delicious, but if you have a chance to feel the scratch of whiskers against your breasts, neck, and pussy…” Ireth moaned softly, “that is a treat too.”
Gilraen trembled slightly. Her eyes blinked away the heady evidence of growing excitement. Her breath quickened when Ireth began to undress herself. Soon the woman stood before the Priest naked. Her full breasts were heavy from age, but still looked smooth and clean of blemishes and marks. Gilraen questioned the rumors of Ireth’s diseased body. She watched as Ireth slipped onto the bed, settled behind Huro, rested on her knees and draped her arms around the man’s shoulders. Her boobs pushed into his back. Her fingers teased the strings of his shirt; eventually loosening them enough so she could slide her hands against the warm flesh. “Does your Prince have hair on his chest?” she asked the Princess, not really expecting an answer. “If he does, than run your fingers through it make him remember that there is not a hair on his body you will leave untouched. While you explore him, be sure to mark him in other ways. A kiss, here,” she pressed her lips to Huro’s neck, “here,” she kissed his ear, “and here,” she tilted his head back and kissed his mouth. Her tongue slid in and merged with his.
The Princess watched. Her body shivered; she dismissed the reflex blaming the chilled winter air. Ireth’s hands slid over Huro’s skin, the shirt slowly become more and more loose. Eventually Huro shrugged out of it. Gilraen made little notice of his silent acceptance of the circumstances he was in; instead she allowed herself the luxury of looking at a man’s body.
Huro’s chest was not as firm as the warriors of her father’s house. Ireth’s fingers moved across the white hairs that lay scattered on the man’s flesh. His muscles were not lean, but showed promise of strength in their youth. His stomach was not overly huge, but did show signs of eating with gusto. Gilraen glanced lower, curious as to what the rest of her Priest looked like.
Ireth chuckled; the laughter snapped the Princess’s attentions back to the whore and her actions. She blushed, having been caught in her assessment of the holy man. A deep breath, raised shoulders, and a straightened back told Ireth to continue. The whore smirked. “Take note of what your lover likes. Does he shy away from tender kisses,” she placed small delicate ones across Huro’s shoulders, “or does he like them to be more of a vigorous nature.” Huro winced, and then moaned softly when Ireth sealed a kiss with a small nip of her teeth. Gilraen noted the man’s change in demeanor. Would Turgon want her to bite him? The idea, surprisingly held appeal to the virgin’s thoughts.
“Don’t forget these bits on a man,” Ireth whispered, calling attention back to her and her partner. Long slim fingers pinched each one of Huro’s nipples. He grunted low, the sound one of obvious approval. Ireth looked at the Princess as she twisted both of the hard beads, and suckled on Huro’s neck. Her breasts continued to be pressed into the bare flesh of her lover. She moaned softly, before releasing her willing victim. “Our Priest — he does enjoy a little kick in his fuckin’.”
Gilraen blushed at the foul word.
“Yes, Your Highness, even language unfit for a royal can bring moisture to ones thighs, or hardness to a cock.” Ireth reached down and stroked Huro’s erection. Her lips continued to assault his skin. Gilraen watched with growing frustration. Her eyes were glued to Ireth’s hand and she desperately wanted to see what the whore stroked. She licked her lips in anticipation.
Huro groaned. He pulled Ireth’s hand away, undid his pants and allowed his cock to leap free. A gasp of surprise escaped Gilraen’s parted lips. She stared at the man’s penis. Her fingers curled into a tight fist. “Oh my,” she whispered.
Ireth purred against her lover’s neck. “Yes, our Priest is blessed with an awesome cock.” Ireth played with the head. “But don’t become over excited. I cannot promise your husband will be so greatly endowed. Some men are smaller than our lovely plaything, others are larger…”
“Not much,” Hugo muttered.
Ireth laughed, “No my dear not much.”
Gilraen inched closer off her seat. “What is that?” she asked.
Ireth winked, ran her finger across the clear liquid that had spilled free of Huro’s dick. “That is a sure sign you have aroused your lover. Yes, his hardness is too, but this, this delicious nectar,” Ireth licked her finger clean, “this is the first taste of a surprise more rewarding than many realize.”
Huro groaned. “I think we’ve shown her enough,” he hissed, yet made no movement to show he was drawing an end to their arrangement.
“No, no you haven’t,” Gilraen whispered.
Ireth winked at the woman, wrapped her hand around Huro’s shaft and began to pump it up and down. Her eyes remained fixed on the Princess; her lips trailed kisses and nips along her lover’s shoulders. A grunt of encouragement fell from the Priest’s mouth. Ireth slipped from the bed, again holding Gilraen’s attention. “His cock Princess — deep inside there is a gift for you, it is eager to come out, it wants nothing more than to slide down your throat and settle into your belly. There will be times when you cannot take his cock into your pussy, and so during those times you should ease your man’s suffering with your mouth.”
Huro cursed and Gilraen watched as Ireth slid to her knees. “You can undress your partner, or wait for him to undress himself.” Huro wasted no time in removing his clothing; he stood before his Princess and his whore fully engorged. Gilraen’s lips were dry; her tongue darted out to moisten the soft pink petals. Her sex tightened in curiosity.
“If you were not our Princess, I would let you ease his suffering with me,” Ireth whispered, before capturing the head of Huro’s cock between her lips. Both the Priest and the Princess gasped. The sound however was muffled by the humming from Ireth’s throat.
The show continued for Gilraen. She watched Ireth lift off Huro’s cock head, then slide back over it. Her tongue darted out, licked the tip, played with the small hole and caressed the veins that were engorged with desire. Gilraen’s lungs burned as she held her breath, eager to see what gift Ireth would coax from her lover.
Ireth moved her hands, cupped Huro’s balls and massaged the twin spheres. She popped off the man’s stiff tool, lapped at his tender sack and smiled over to the Princess. “These jewels you must cherish, for hidden behind the flesh will be the gift we seek. The juices that spring out will not only feed your belly, coat your throat, and cover your flesh, but will be what gives life to your womb. You must be kind, and gentle, but again some men like a little bit of pain applied here.” Ireth squeezed one of Huro’s balls, and then winced when his fingers pulled at her hair. She laughed hardheartedly, released the assaulted appendage and grinned. “He is not one of those men.” Her mouth moved to cover the bruised marble, blanketing it in a warm bath of tongue, lips, and suckling motions. Soon Huro’s hand was petting her, and his voice cooed his enjoyment.
Gilraen shifted nervously in her seat. Thoughts of Turgon pushing her head into his crotch, of his manhood sliding between her lips, and her tongue wrapping around him like a small snake, made her body sweat. A tingling sensation, between her thighs, seemed to beckon her toward some hidden goal. Images of her on her knees, suckling a man’s shaft, rolling his precious jewels between her fingers brought a hiss of pleasure from her lips.
She glanced at Ireth and noted the woman was paying little attention to the Princess, too lost in pleasuring the Priest. Gilraen released the tight hold she had on her gown. Her fingers slipped over to her chest; she felt the hard aroused state of her right nipple. She pinched it, welcomed the pain, and wondered if a lesson where Huro pleased Ireth would be in order. What pain could a man give to a woman that would bring pleasure?
“Princess — Princess…”
Gilraen’s hand dropped; she cleared her throat and looked at the whore.
“He’s going to cum Your Highness. Watch,” Ireth demanded.
A virgin’s gaze locked onto Huro’s cock. It glistened from Ireth’s saliva. Her hand pumped the swollen shaft with a speed unfathomable to Gilraen’s imagination. A blur of activity seemed to erupt all at once. A stream of white liquid exploded from the slit in the Priest’s cock. It splattered across Ireth and onto Huro’s stomach. Just as quickly Ireth moved to cover the erupting dick. Gilraen watched as Huro pushed her into his crotch; he used both hands to hold her there as he pumped his way in and out of her. He controlled her head, cursing at her to take everything. Gilraen was shocked, amazed, and awed by the power in the man’s words. He sounded as frightening in his demands to Ireth as he did condemning her people from the lectern.
When Ireth was allowed freedom from Huro’s thrusting, she popped up and pushed him to his back. “His cock,” her words came out breathless, “his cock can be hard again. Huro is a vigorous lover. With little effort,” experienced fingers stroked the half mast shaft, “he will be up and ready again.” Ireth wiped cum from her face, “and then Princess, then I will show you how to fuck a man.”
Gilraen’s body could take no more. She rose from her seat and hurried from the cottage. The image of her Priest, and the whore would be forever locked away, a private secret she would share with no one. Her steps carried her far away from the cottage and further from the village. Eventually her imagination forced her to stop and seek refuge. Taking note of her surroundings Gilraen realized that she’d made her way to a meadow where several young people of Lúinwë often spent the summer months fishing, swimming and enjoying the warm air. This day though, it was cool and the promise of a hard storm loomed in the air. It was only fitting, the winter season was upon them and the first real snowfall had not yet occurred.
Gilraen shivered slightly. She walked once around the pond, welcoming the cool air, allowing it to caress her skin, to tone down the brightness of her cheeks. The images of what had transpired earlier still weighed heavy on her mind; her breath would catch occasionally as she dared to imagine her and Turgon in such a heated exchange. During all her musings she never thought of another man in her fantasies. A frown formed, her forehead furrowed in annoyance. “It is only because no other man has been as close to me, as intimate with me. I am sure, if I were to lay my hands upon Círdan than I could imagine my fingers on his skin and my mouth on his…” she stopped talking aloud and cleared her head.
“So you’d have me take the life of my best friend, and most loyal soldier?”
Gilraen spun around. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened. “Lord Celebrindal, I wasn’t aware of you being outside the castle walls.”
Turgon moved casually toward the Princess. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. “One of my men hurried back to me when they noted whose home you had opted to visit.”
Her face grew red, a mixture of anger and embarrassment mingled together. “You are having me followed?” She stepped closer to him, temporarily forgetting the feelings he’d invoked the night before. “What rights have you to send your lackeys trailing after me?”
The man chuckled softly, allowed the Princess to close the distance between them and waited while her tirade of emotions simmered to a lesser boil. “Your Highness, you are my betrothed, soon to be my wife, in just nine short days. Your mother has shown a lack of care and concern toward your well being, I will not however be so negligent, not to mention your threat last night to bed every man you come across –.”
“I said no such thing! I simply stated that I would bed whomever I pleased and -.”
“- and that just so happens to be Círdan?” Turgon finished for her. “I will kill him where he stands if he was to bed you, I’ll not share you with another.” Turgon lifted his hand to caress her face. His fingers were gloved, but the heat of his touch still seemed to singe Gilraen.
“Yet, again you speak as if it is merely a formality. My being loyal and your sticking your wick into whatever hole presents itself.”
“Such language,” his hand trailed across her lips, “is that something the whore taught you. How to speak like a slut to your lover? What other things did you learn from Mistress Ireth?”
Gilraen’s blush was a deep crimson; she stepped back and turned to leave. Her exit was cut short by the firm grasp of her betrothed’s hand on her arm. He turned her, pulling her hard against him. His mouth captured hers, and his tongue dove forcefully between her chilled lips, forcing them to open to his ministrations. Gilraen whimpered, unaware of the sound her throat made as she leaned further into his kiss. He tilted her head, eased on up on his assault and waited for her to relax. When he sensed her desire to give him free will, Turgon slowly began to stroke the sides of her tongue with his, encouraging her to follow his lead. Their muscles moved together, each one touching and tasting the other as if they had hours to burn and the cold air was nothing more than a comfort to their heated skin.