Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
It’s the point of no return and I run blindly down the path to my own destruction, sealing our mouths together, suctioning her, anchoring her, then losing my head when she parts her lips to gasp and allow my tongue to sweep inside, to taste the bliss that’s coursing through her. And she falls on me with a husky mewl, climbing the trunk of my body with those shaking thighs, giving me her tongue like she’s been longing for it for a millennium, our lips meshing, twisting and taking.
Voices cut through the noise in my head, my chest, and Farrah must hear them, too, because she breaks away, studying my face with a troubled expression.
“You can’t be erect when he returns, Father.” She works her hips and light bursts in front of my eyes, my balls beginning to squeeze. “Won’t an orgasm make it less stiff?”
“Yes.” It’s coming. It’s coming. She moves so wickedly, I’m right on the verge. “It’s no use trying to hide what you’re doing to me. He’ll know from the mess I’m about to make.”
“No, Father,” she whines, sipping kisses from my mouth, her pussy pressing and circling and rubbing, her hands twisted in the shoulders of my shirt. “No…we’ll hide it.”
“Where?” I say, raggedly.
She chews her lip. “Inside me?”
“No. No, I will not make your first time all about my pleasure.”
“Can I swallow it?” she asks me, so innocently, this red-haired temptation with her tits high and perky, her panties drenched in her own moisture.
And I become an animal, wrestling her down to the floor between my open knees, unbuckling my belt with hands that belong to someone else, someone overcome by need so intense it becomes his identity, gritting my teeth while unzipping my pants without injuring my shaft. Because lord. Lord, I am abundant, purple with pressure, my crown shiny with the beginnings of my load, and when she leans in and grasps me with two pale, curious hands, I delve a handful of fingers into her hair and guide her forward, as if I was born to be accepted into this girl’s mouth. Born to slide right in.
“Drink your milk, sweetheart. Drink it all for Daddy.” Her lips wrap around me, warm and wet. Excitement flaring in her eyes when I call myself that name, her fists flexing a little tighter to my length, pumping, stroking. “Hide my sin down deep in that tummy.”
She moans, burying me inch by inch in her hot, suckling mouth—
Lucifer himself designs my reaction to feeling the curvature of her throat with my cock, the release of semen so swift and violent, I feel suffocated and exultant all at once, my hips jerking crudely to the edge of the chair, guttural grunts paining my throat, my balls milking thymically as I spill into her horny little mouth. She watches me with wide eyes, her throat working with dutiful gulps, her red hair spilling over the tops of my thighs.
“Good girl, Farrah,” I pant. “You’ve nearly got it all. Nearly…there. Oh my God.” I paint the back of her throat with my final spurt, tugging myself free of her mouth, stopping to rub some remaining semen on her parted lips. “Am I to pray to your sweet mouth from now on? Is this my new lord and savior?”
“Yes,” she breathes, kissing my tip, her eyes brimming with promise. With a touch of the devil…and we both have it in us, don’t we? Dark sexuality…but only for each other. We’re bound by a powerful lust for one another and now that I’ve kissed her, now that I’ve encountered the pleasures of the flesh firsthand, as has Farrah, I fear one taste will not be enough.
The monsignor’s voice grows louder in the hallway. Closer.
Farrah and I don’t break eye contact with we both work to fasten my pants, engaging my belt in its buckle. Then she climbs back onto my lap, our mouths seeking and sinking into one final, breathless kiss, before the monsignor reenters the office, his assessing gaze darting to us where Farrah straddles me in the chair.
“Now. Stand up, Father McDaniel.” His voice snaps like a whip. “Prove that you are unmoved by her ripe, young body. Prove that your body hasn’t hardened in order to mate with her on that very chair.”
Farrah pushes back on my thighs and stands up, bowing her head forward. “I do not tempt him, Monsignor,” she says softly, the firelight outlining her mostly nude figure. Damn, she looks amazing. It’s everything I can do not to wrap her in my arms and praise her, learn all the places she enjoys being touched. Make vows to her. Vows that would mean violating the ones I’ve already taken. More than I already have, that is. “He remains soft.”
My legs are still unsteady from the king’s treatment I received from Farrah’s mouth, but I stand up, as well, loath to lie, but having no choice but to do so if I want to remain a member of the priesthood. This is where I belong. I’ve known that truth since I was a boy, covering my ears while women screamed and bed springs groaned in my parents’ bedroom. The look of continual horror on my mother’s face.