Chapter 7
Her lithe form landed on the wooden floor with a thud, lying in a
puddle of water and suds, across the dusty, dry floor. Rachel raised
herself up on her left hip, supporting herself with her left arm, as
she rubbed the red welt on her cheek with her other hand. Dust and
rotting wood stuck to the wet flesh of her flank and the curve of
her left breast.
Rachel smiled, licking her lip, tasting the saltiness from the
blood, and feeling how her lip was thickening from the blow. She
pushed herself erect, her breasts jiggling from the effort. She
crawled over to where the black clad figure towered over her.
"You have behaved like a common whore in the house of the lord,
my child. What have you to say about this sluttish wickedness
and abomination you you have performed in the sight of the
lord?" he intoned.
Without a word, the girl ran her palms along the outline of his
cock, visible through his cassock. She slowly snaked her small
hand through the opening between it's buttons, searching for what
she needed to find. Her small fingers marched like tiny Christian
soldiers, up the length of the old Padre's burgeoning erection.
She smiled up at him, as he stood as though rooted to the floor,
too shocked to react.
A groan escaped his lips, as the small rooting fingers explored,
found and cupped his heavy scrotum. Forgotten feelings surged
through him at the teenager's touch. His broad nostrils flared at
the overwhelming smell of musk that exuded from her, only feet away.
Her other hand impatiently fumbled, first with the buttons of his
cassock and then with the fly of his under garment.
Even in the dim light of the candle, the contrast of her pale
hands, on his large black rod was clearly visible. The
uncontrollable rise of saliva in her mouth, was matched by the
clenching in her guts, as her pussy welled up with hot musk. The
Padre stood rigid, suddenly raising his pudgy hands to the
heavens and clenching them into fists. As the girl continued her
vile ministrations.
Rachel knew now that her fantasy was not a dream, but a vision, a
vision of her destiny, her purpose. Lost in a maelstrom of lust
and need, she struggled to push such thoughts from her mind, and
grasp the old Rachel, the intelligent, independent Rachel, the one
one dedicated to self-denial, all in the name of a religious
mythology. Instead, the more she struggled within herself, the more
tangled she became in her religious fantasies. She now perceived
that she had no choice, that the loving god she for so long sought
to please, had charted and new course for her existence. She was
to please in a new realm. Not one of the spiritual realm, but the one
of the flesh. In an instant she saw things clearly, and was now freed
from the restraining burden of a lifetime of lies.
Rachel eagerly pulled The Padre's under garment down his thick
thighs. Her cheek rested against his sizable paunch, as her long,
stiff nipples brushed teasingly along in their wake. Kneeling,
her dripping bottom rested on her heels, she raised her small
hands, with a whimper of excitement, to lovingly cup the large
black sack of his testicles, that hung heavily beneath his large
gut. Her small hands could barely contain their hot fullness, as
she dipped her head to place a loving kiss on each of the plumb
sized orbs, with her forehead pushed tightly against the overhang
of his belly. Her cupped hands kneaded their precious cargo
tenderly, as she buried her nose and mouth in their wrinkled
softness. Rachel felt her guts contract, as she inhaled the
fragrance of the Padre's manhood, felt the churning of his balls
beneath her lips and fingers, and felt the coarseness of his nappy
pubes against her pale cheeks.
Overcome and blinded by lust, her tongue thrust out like a tiny
wet worm, to trace the heavy veins decorating his sperm heavy
scrotum, beneath their covering of tightly curled hair. She
lathed the firm orbs until they were lathered with her saliva,
her tongue paying homage to the offering they contained. The
offering that she would soon have jetting forth, in a warm
fountain from which she would drink, in a new kind of communion.
The Padre's body betrayed him, even as he cried out silently to
god, in a futile prayer. The years of self-denial, in the purgatory
of celibacy were melting away, as the young girl stoked the long
banked embers of lust in his loins. The blind rage he felt at
the girl was doused by wave after wave of long forgotten carnal
pleasure, as the girl made oral love to his churning balls.
Suddenly in an epiphany of faith driven delusion, it was clear to
him. Like the saved drowning man's surety of divine
intervention, the old Padre knew the reason for his tempting.
The girl was a vessel, a vessel into which he would pour his
lust, he would purify her, he would use her to cleanse others of
their lust. Why else would god send him a soulless whore in the
form of a perfect virginal woman. Such carnal perfection had
only one use. With the certainty born of zealotry, the old Padre
was freed of his guilt. He lowered his pudgy hands the girl's
blonde head as she dipped her head sideways to catch the thick
staff of his cock between her eager open lips.
Rachel trembled with anticipation as she brought her hand to the
stiff rod of black flesh and guided it to her mouth. Her hand
was slick with the saliva that coated his sperm sacks, and filled
her mouth to overflowing. She tenderly shucked his swelling cock
with her small white fingers to reveal the dark grayish purple
head. Her lust drugged mind reveled in the depravity of the
scene. A prim and proper white Protestant teenager, on
missionary with her pious father, groveling soul naked before a
fat mulatto priest making love to his cock with her swollen red
lips and pink little tongue. Her mind reeled as she visualized
the scene, her once flawless face bruised, lips swollen from the
abuse she knew she deserved, her cheeks distended, face
glistening with mingled secretions, her jaw distorted as she
tried to swallow the length of flesh. It was so awful, so
depraved, her heavily secreting pussy throbbed at the mental
image. She dug her upturned heels into her groin to satisfy the
need, the wet swollen flesh of her cunt flooded her feet with its
thick oily discharge.
The groveling girl marveled at the hardness of the old Padre's
cock as she held it in her hand. Her swollen lips leaked a moan
that was a mixture of need and anticipation as she brought the
throbbing black cudgel to her wet lips. She pulled the glossy
swollen head to her lips in a soulful kiss, paying homage to the
offering the laid before her god. In a scene that was
deliberate, almost ritualistic, she kissed the length of the
fleshy rod, tracing each pencil thick vein with her delicate pink
tongue. She felt it surge under her ministrations. Bringing the
plum sized knob to her lips she lathed her tongue around its
girth and played it into the cleft beneath its wordless mouth,
pursing her lips she gently kissed the head, and with a purr
engulfed it with her watering mouth.
A moaning growl escaped the fat old man as the head of his cock
was encased in the wet warmth of the young white girl's mouth.
His balls churned as he felt the girl's tongue swirl around the
sensitive head, playing and dipping in to the precum leaking slit
as if plumbing for its rich liquid treasure, coaxing it to
fountain forth. His head swimming, legs trembling the Padre
staggered back and collapsed into a heavy framed wooden chair.
The eager girl never released the vacuum of her young mouth
around the old Padre's cock, scuttling after him on all fours,
heavy swollen tits swaying beneath her like a nursing calf
reluctant to give up it's mother's teat.
