could flick its rubbery tip with her
tongue. A moment later and all attempts at delicacy vanished. She was sucking
hard, the breast in her mouth, half-choking on it, saliva dribbling from her
lips. She drew the breast out and moved it across her mouth, letting the nipple
drag against the skin of her face, before sucking it up again, drawing it into
her mouth, eyes closed, slobbering like a dog as the taste of her own tit sent
her dizzy.
God, this is great! she told herself, feeling like a kid in a
toyshop. On she went, one breast then the other, licking and slurping, almost
giggling with the sheer delight of it. She let them hang loose, glistening with
saliva, then took each one into her mouth again, more hungrily now, as if she
literally couldn’t get enough of herself.
And all the time, she kept thinking about that ecclesiastical fool
behind her, insisting that she banish all her shame and self-concealment. If
only he knew what she was capable of! If only he knew how little shame she felt
when it came to her own gorgeous, insatiable body.
It was too much. Before she knew it she’d plunged a hand down into
her pants, cupping it against the warm mound of her sex, feeling the springy
bush through the cotton of her panties, moist and promising. Her thighs widened
to let the hand in, and there she remained, riding it with slow gyrations, her
ass now pushing backward and forward enough to give any man a hard-on, whatever
professional garb he was wearing.
Father Hernández was a weak man, the Cardinal had told her. He had
fallen for the icy charms of Ms. Lescheva. It had been Irina Lescheva who chose
this church, just as she had chosen a number of other churches previously, poor
places, where life is cheap and hope is easily bought. Father Hernández was not
directly involved, other than through Irina, acting as her translator and her
intermediary, since she spoke no Spanish. But, of course, he also made sure he
got his pound of flesh.
Poor Father Hernández! Only the Cardinal knew what was going to
happen to him. Perhaps he would claim innocence, taking his pleasure passively,
sitting there behind her on the sofa and touching nothing. Did he somehow
believe himself to be free of sin. Un -touching, untouchable?
To hell with it, she told herself as she delved inside her panties,
finding them already wet. If he wanted sin, he’d chosen the right girl. And the
wrong one.
She slipped a finger between the lips of her sex and began to
explore herself, her ass lowering a little further as she widened her stance.
She hoped he was still concentrating...
There she remained, rising and falling slightly, a hand deep between
her legs and the other still fondling her breasts, eyes closed, her knees
bending as she relished this unexpected opportunity to bring herself off. She
imagined what she must look like from behind, her ass pushed out and her upper
body leaning forward as she stroked and pulled on her tits, occasionally
lifting one and sucking it.
From his position on the sofa, could the priest see her hand inside
her pants? Could he make out the movement of her fingers as they ran up and
down her slit, the whole hand crabbing up as she eased a finger inside, her
pelvis jumping in tiny little jerks?
She longed to watch herself, to be there on the sofa looking at her
own butt rise and fall. She knew how horny it must have been, and, as always,
it turned her on to know someone was seeing all this.
Gradually, her thumb worked its way up and found the clitoris. Hot
and slippery against its tight little hood of skin, she hardly needed to touch
it, carefully nudging it up and down as she shivered with pleasure.
Time stood still. How long was it? She had no idea, drifting in and
out of full consciousness as the faint little flurries of delight became more
powerful, her mouth contorted, open wide, drinking in the air in big, helpless
breaths.
Then, quite suddenly, a beautiful stabbing sensation rushed through
her crotch, sending
tongue. A moment later and all attempts at delicacy vanished. She was sucking
hard, the breast in her mouth, half-choking on it, saliva dribbling from her
lips. She drew the breast out and moved it across her mouth, letting the nipple
drag against the skin of her face, before sucking it up again, drawing it into
her mouth, eyes closed, slobbering like a dog as the taste of her own tit sent
her dizzy.
God, this is great! she told herself, feeling like a kid in a
toyshop. On she went, one breast then the other, licking and slurping, almost
giggling with the sheer delight of it. She let them hang loose, glistening with
saliva, then took each one into her mouth again, more hungrily now, as if she
literally couldn’t get enough of herself.
And all the time, she kept thinking about that ecclesiastical fool
behind her, insisting that she banish all her shame and self-concealment. If
only he knew what she was capable of! If only he knew how little shame she felt
when it came to her own gorgeous, insatiable body.
It was too much. Before she knew it she’d plunged a hand down into
her pants, cupping it against the warm mound of her sex, feeling the springy
bush through the cotton of her panties, moist and promising. Her thighs widened
to let the hand in, and there she remained, riding it with slow gyrations, her
ass now pushing backward and forward enough to give any man a hard-on, whatever
professional garb he was wearing.
Father Hernández was a weak man, the Cardinal had told her. He had
fallen for the icy charms of Ms. Lescheva. It had been Irina Lescheva who chose
this church, just as she had chosen a number of other churches previously, poor
places, where life is cheap and hope is easily bought. Father Hernández was not
directly involved, other than through Irina, acting as her translator and her
intermediary, since she spoke no Spanish. But, of course, he also made sure he
got his pound of flesh.
Poor Father Hernández! Only the Cardinal knew what was going to
happen to him. Perhaps he would claim innocence, taking his pleasure passively,
sitting there behind her on the sofa and touching nothing. Did he somehow
believe himself to be free of sin. Un -touching, untouchable?
To hell with it, she told herself as she delved inside her panties,
finding them already wet. If he wanted sin, he’d chosen the right girl. And the
wrong one.
She slipped a finger between the lips of her sex and began to
explore herself, her ass lowering a little further as she widened her stance.
She hoped he was still concentrating...
There she remained, rising and falling slightly, a hand deep between
her legs and the other still fondling her breasts, eyes closed, her knees
bending as she relished this unexpected opportunity to bring herself off. She
imagined what she must look like from behind, her ass pushed out and her upper
body leaning forward as she stroked and pulled on her tits, occasionally
lifting one and sucking it.
From his position on the sofa, could the priest see her hand inside
her pants? Could he make out the movement of her fingers as they ran up and
down her slit, the whole hand crabbing up as she eased a finger inside, her
pelvis jumping in tiny little jerks?
She longed to watch herself, to be there on the sofa looking at her
own butt rise and fall. She knew how horny it must have been, and, as always,
it turned her on to know someone was seeing all this.
Gradually, her thumb worked its way up and found the clitoris. Hot
and slippery against its tight little hood of skin, she hardly needed to touch
it, carefully nudging it up and down as she shivered with pleasure.
Time stood still. How long was it? She had no idea, drifting in and
out of full consciousness as the faint little flurries of delight became more
powerful, her mouth contorted, open wide, drinking in the air in big, helpless
breaths.
Then, quite suddenly, a beautiful stabbing sensation rushed through
her crotch, sending
Similar Books
