way from her clit to her cunt with my tongue and (forgive me, my God) but no communion wine, no salvation had ever tasted sweeter than this, and one taste would not be enough.
“Please,” I whispered against her skin, “just one more.” I flattened my tongue against her clit and sampled her again, my dick now so hard that it hurt.
She cried out against the wood of the piano, and I almost died, because those noises and fuck me that taste. I dove into her like a man possessed, my fingers burrowing into her ass cheeks to hold her open for my assault. I fucked her with my tongue and my lips and my teeth, eating her, eating her like a starving man. Her cunt was exactly as perfect as I’d imagined all those nights in my frozen showers, that time I’d shot off thinking about doing this very thing.
She would come, I decided right then. I would make her come on my face, and just the thought made my balls draw up and my dick jolt in my pants. It was a very real possibility that I myself might orgasm without even touching my cock.
I let one finger drift over to her pussy and then I slid it inside, crooking it down to find the soft, textured spot that would push her over the edge. She was shamelessly grinding back into my face now, her fingernails scratching against the piano wood, little sighs and moans issuing from her throat.
All I could breathe and taste was her, and then I looked up and saw the crucifix at the front of the church—a tragic, agonized god hanging in sacrifice—and my heart lurched. What the hell was I doing? Anybody could walk in right now, walk in the front door, and see their priest with a woman bent over the piano, kneeling as if he was praying to her cunt, kneeling with his face buried in her ass.
What would they think? After I had worked so hard to repair this town’s hurt, after I’d finally helped this community trust the Church again?
And more than that—what about my vow? A vow I had made before my family and God? What does an oath mean to me if only three years after swearing chastity, I’m shoving my tongue up a woman’s wet cunt?
But then Poppy came, her cry the most beautiful hymn I’ve heard in my life, and everything else vanished except her and her smell and her taste and the feeling of her clenching around my finger.
Reluctantly, I pulled back, wanting one more orgasm from her, wanting to bury my face in her ass again, but knowing I couldn’t, I shouldn’t, and then I stood and saw her looking over her shoulder like I was the most wondrous thing she’d ever seen.
“No one’s ever done that to me before,” she whispered.
Tongue-fucked her in a church? Bent her over a piano and licked her until she couldn’t stand anymore?
My eyebrows drew together, and she answered my unspoken question. “No one’s ever made me come with their mouth before, I mean,” she said. There was still a flush high on her cheeks, creeping down her neck.
I didn’t understand. “No guy has ever gone down on you?”
She shook her head and then closed her eyes. “That felt so good.”
I was shocked. How could she have never received oral?
“That’s a shame, little lamb,” I said, and I couldn’t stop myself, I pressed my covered erection into her ass. “No one’s taken care of you properly before.” I dropped a hand down and around to find her clit again, groaning inwardly when I found that it was still a swollen, hot button of need. “But I won’t lie. It makes me hard as fuck knowing that I was the first man to taste you.”
I heard the words as I said them and suddenly reality slammed back into me.
What the fuck was I doing? What the fuck had I done?
And why had I done it here, of all places?
I stepped back, breathing hard, no thought in my mind other than to get away, somewhere else, before I was laid low by guilt and regret.
Poppy spun around, her skirt still bunched around her waist, her eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare,” she said. “Don’t you dare check out on me
“Please,” I whispered against her skin, “just one more.” I flattened my tongue against her clit and sampled her again, my dick now so hard that it hurt.
She cried out against the wood of the piano, and I almost died, because those noises and fuck me that taste. I dove into her like a man possessed, my fingers burrowing into her ass cheeks to hold her open for my assault. I fucked her with my tongue and my lips and my teeth, eating her, eating her like a starving man. Her cunt was exactly as perfect as I’d imagined all those nights in my frozen showers, that time I’d shot off thinking about doing this very thing.
She would come, I decided right then. I would make her come on my face, and just the thought made my balls draw up and my dick jolt in my pants. It was a very real possibility that I myself might orgasm without even touching my cock.
I let one finger drift over to her pussy and then I slid it inside, crooking it down to find the soft, textured spot that would push her over the edge. She was shamelessly grinding back into my face now, her fingernails scratching against the piano wood, little sighs and moans issuing from her throat.
All I could breathe and taste was her, and then I looked up and saw the crucifix at the front of the church—a tragic, agonized god hanging in sacrifice—and my heart lurched. What the hell was I doing? Anybody could walk in right now, walk in the front door, and see their priest with a woman bent over the piano, kneeling as if he was praying to her cunt, kneeling with his face buried in her ass.
What would they think? After I had worked so hard to repair this town’s hurt, after I’d finally helped this community trust the Church again?
And more than that—what about my vow? A vow I had made before my family and God? What does an oath mean to me if only three years after swearing chastity, I’m shoving my tongue up a woman’s wet cunt?
But then Poppy came, her cry the most beautiful hymn I’ve heard in my life, and everything else vanished except her and her smell and her taste and the feeling of her clenching around my finger.
Reluctantly, I pulled back, wanting one more orgasm from her, wanting to bury my face in her ass again, but knowing I couldn’t, I shouldn’t, and then I stood and saw her looking over her shoulder like I was the most wondrous thing she’d ever seen.
“No one’s ever done that to me before,” she whispered.
Tongue-fucked her in a church? Bent her over a piano and licked her until she couldn’t stand anymore?
My eyebrows drew together, and she answered my unspoken question. “No one’s ever made me come with their mouth before, I mean,” she said. There was still a flush high on her cheeks, creeping down her neck.
I didn’t understand. “No guy has ever gone down on you?”
She shook her head and then closed her eyes. “That felt so good.”
I was shocked. How could she have never received oral?
“That’s a shame, little lamb,” I said, and I couldn’t stop myself, I pressed my covered erection into her ass. “No one’s taken care of you properly before.” I dropped a hand down and around to find her clit again, groaning inwardly when I found that it was still a swollen, hot button of need. “But I won’t lie. It makes me hard as fuck knowing that I was the first man to taste you.”
I heard the words as I said them and suddenly reality slammed back into me.
What the fuck was I doing? What the fuck had I done?
And why had I done it here, of all places?
I stepped back, breathing hard, no thought in my mind other than to get away, somewhere else, before I was laid low by guilt and regret.
Poppy spun around, her skirt still bunched around her waist, her eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare,” she said. “Don’t you dare check out on me
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