Chapter 58
The fat old Padre lay on the dusty blanket his back against the
saddle. His dirty cassock gaped at the waist, and he watched as the
young Indian girl, Maria, rode his thickly swollen cock. She squatted
above him and rose up and down, slowly, almost painfully slowly, as
the thick black log of his cock buried itself again and again in her
tight anus. He grit his strong white teeth as the tight ring of her
sphincter squeegeed his cock as it slid up and down. His dark eyes
watched the muscles of her legs and splayed buttocks flex with the
effort of repeated squats. Her large pendulous breasts swung beneath
her chest as her torso supported by her arms on her knees.
He could barely see the girl's face, her tongue protruding through her
lips as she concentrated. He knew she enjoyed it as much as he. She
was a slut, a village whore, she knew her place and was resigned to
her life as such. He felt the metallic coolness against his thigh on
the down stroke. It was her whore's bell hanging from her pierced
labia. The mark of her trade to all who knew its' meaning. She was
theirs to take, any way, any time, anywhere.
Even her father and brothers. Yes, he knew the twisted incestuous
desires the young girl had. He had even watched once, her father and
brothers had left her well greased for him afterwards.
Maria's legs burned with the effort, but not as hot as her throbbing
sphincter and empty gaping cunt. The hot stretching sensation in her
anus was maddening and made her impale herself with even more
masochistic delight.
"U-h-h-h, a-a-a-h-h" she grunted as she felt the long black rod stuff
her bowels, pushing her intestines aside as it bulled into her eager
guts. She felt a thrill each time her brown bottom felt the touch of
the fat priest's kinky black pubes. She grunted and moaned with
animalistic glee as she felt the thick rod expand stretching her even
more as the old man's orgasm approached. She dropped a small hand
between her spread thighs and began to hurriedly rub and tug at the
swollen nub above her gaping wet cunt. Her slack tongue hung from her
lips as she concentrated on her own climax, trying to join the old
priest in sinful fulfillment.
"Yes, sodomy!" the old priest thought. "The vileness, the filthiness
of it was...sublime!" In the past few weeks, with the help of the young
Anglo slut, he had learned the true meaning of lust. "He had reveled
in the slime of sin and felt it bring new power to his once impotent
cock. He knew once again what it meant to be a man, not some celibate
sheep, regurgitating the baseless pabulum fed to him by a distant
hierarchy of gelded intellects.
Now he knew the true power to change a life, the power wielded by
churchmen of old. The power to enslave and to degrade, to free and to
lift up. His soul filled with gladness, silent mirth at the sights
and sounds of others suffering. Laughter at their ignorance and their
eagerness to serve simply because they had been told to at birth. His
mind reeled at the number of fresh wet cunts, clasping young rectums
and eager sucking lips would be his to control, to use, and all with
the help of their ignorant and compliant parents.
The potent sperm filling his balls foamed at the thought, eager to
quench his unholy lust and defile and soil the innocent.
"Yes, there would be others, Maria, even the beautiful young slut's
whorish sister. But in God's sight there was no other so low, so
deserving of degradation, than the beautiful young American slut,
Rachel."
He felt his swollen rod jump at the thought, his balls churning like a
volcanic cauldron, his holy sperm roiling and frothing at the thought
of the lowly slut that awaited him. His mind pondered at what he
might find. Was she even alive? What had the Captain and his men now
moldering along the trail, done to the young whore before being
killed? Had she been with them? His questions were lost as his brain
filled with the blank whiteness of his climax. The moans of the young
Bolivian whore mingled with his. Her fleshy hips squirmed and wiggled
as she pistoned up and down pumping out her orgasm around the holy
man's spurting cock embedded deep in her spasming rectum.
Steve Falwell paused his writing and stared into space, his eyes
seeing nothing but the vision of his daughter Rachel clear and real in
his mind. He began to write again his pen driven by guilt. The
thought of his beautiful daughter patently waiting for him,
administering to the poor of the village under the care of the old
mulatto catholic priest. He felt a brief pang of guilt, his guilt
seemed to absolve itself under the touch of the pretty Indian girl's
tongue against the underside of his bare cock. Her warm clinging lips
assuaged the guilt he felt, but the self loathing at having betrayed
all he believed in still stung, but with each passing day stung less.
Roselita knelt between the white missionary's legs as he sat at the
small table writing. She tongued the smooth swollen dome of his
dong, kissed it, then ran her full lips along it's length, bathing it
with her warm saliva. Her full lips caressed it then engulfed the
head it in her hot wet mouth. A low moan announced the relish with
which she performed her task, pumping her mouth up and down the stony
length as her little fist pumped the rod up and down.
Falwell fought to concentrate, to finish his letter to his waiting
virtuous daughter. Yes, he had fallen for this little ravenous whore.
Seduced by her rapacious innocence, he had fallen. The lust she had
released in him had even driven him to have filthy fantasies of his
beloved Rachel. Yes, even a father could not fail to notice the full
womanly curves of a beauty such as her. "Thank god, Rachel and her
sister were not like their slattern of a mother.
God had seen that they were raised with virtue and protected from
vice. He knew and was proud that his daughters would make something
of themselves. The insistent suction on his dong broke his
concentration as his climax neared, he felt the pulsing in his
draughty balls. The young slut kept them all but drained dry. He
felt the almost painful pumping of his prostate as it fought to pump
up the dregs from his bottomed testacles. With a groan, the thick
mucky grounds pumped from his withered balls into the hungry sucking
mouth of the Bolivian girl. Obscene slurping gurgles rang in his ears
as the girl's ravening mouth gulped at the thick ochor that extruded
from his veiny member like ribbons of paste. His balls ached as the
young slut's practiced fingers coaxed the last teeming morsels from
them. Roselita cast her adoring eyes on the face of the white man
looming over her. The young Indian girl rubbed her bare sensitive
breasts against his naked hairy thighs. She savored the taste of his
seed as she supped at the alter of lust, communing with him, feasting
on his mortal essence. She smiled inwardly at the thought of their
union of the flesh. The young wanton was content, in her mind they
were one. The communion of lust they shared and the bond of fleshly
intimacy they had forged would transcend all. She was one with him
never to be parted. The bastardized teachings of the white holy men
said as much. Didn't Steven and her share the same bond, through the
same act as the Christ did with his disciples? They partook of each
other's fleshy essence and the two became one. Yes, it was so. She
smiled, licking the pasty residue of their communion from her swollen
lips.
Falwell's eyes closed as he shuddered under the climax, but not before
he resolved to redeem himself and return to his pious daughter.
