“Aah,” the young thing sighed, “your tongue burns like fire and… your hot breath… makes me feel… again… exactly like I felt this morning…”
Pineraide understood that it was no longer necessary to act his little game.
It was obvious that the young lady had come to see him for one purpose only. She was going to test his virility, and at the same time she wanted to enjoy the pleasures of love herself.
The smell of the virginal flesh made his head spin. He quickly lifted the skirt and petticoat of his young sinner.
The girl struggled only because good manners demanded that she do so. She sighed deeply and whispered, almost inaudibly, “Oh dear God and Saints in Heaven, help me.”
“Let's go on with the absolution,” the priest said, throwing the last garment on the floor.
And, since he now held the naked girl in his arms, he threw off his cassock, revealing his prick which seemed heavier, bigger and harder than it had ever been before.
“And that, my little daughter, is the holy water brush with which I shall sprinkle you.”
“That's a brush?” Theresa whispered, while she curiously looked at the big, twitching thing. “I don't see any hairs on it.”
“That is unimportant, my child; the main thing is that it is well equipped to sprinkle those penitents who want to be blessed.”
“Oh, please, please… bless me!” little Theresa exclaimed, throwing herself upon her knees, her hands imploring.
Father Pineraide began to laugh; he bent over the little girl and lifted her up high, light as a feather she was. He held her in his arms.
“You still haven't understood, have you, adorable creature. I am not going to sprinkle you the way you think. Do you believe that God has created a desirable body like yours just to be sprinkled with a few miserable drops of holy water? No, my dear, with seed and fucking… that was His intention. I am going to flood these tits, this body and that pussy, that divine cunt of yours with gobs of come. And this holy water brush… yes, this brush which God has entrusted to me to please all the female penitents of this town… is the magic wand which imparts to all courageous penitents heavenly delights and passion. It will bring joy to all those who are not afraid of its fury. In short, my dear child, you are beholding a prick without which mankind would die out and which is the natural staff which God has given to man to people this world and multiply.”
“Aah, such a holy water brush…” Theresa whispered. “I can feel it against my thighs. What are you going to do with it?”
“You will see in a minute,” groaned the priest in a paroxysm of passion, carrying the little girl toward his bed.
He put her down upon the edge of the bed, her little feet dangling freely. Then he knelt down and carefully spread the young girl's legs. She closed her eyes with a happy smile and let him do whatever he wanted. He looked at her tiny pussy which began to show a shadow of blonde hairs. It was very little, extremely tight, and the lips were firmly closed…
The priest, hesitantly, tried to worm one finger into it to see if he could penetrate.
But Theresa's outcry made him stop. “Ouch! You are hurting me… dear Anatole!”
Aha! A finger, a simple finger made her scream out in pain. No doubt, she was truly a virgin. But would his big prick be able to drill through that narrow little tunnel? The mere thought made the priest's hard-on painfully stiff. And to make the cunt which he desired so badly more pliable, the good father began to lick it. Slowly the lips parted, and the rosy knob inside became visible. He flicked his tongue against the little knob. Theresa groaned with pleasure and her hips began to undulate.
“Ooh, that feels marvelous,” she grunted, “please, don't stop. Go on, my dearest Anatole.”
“Yes,” answered the priest, jumping up from his kneeling position, “I will go on… hold on to me… the brush is beginning to work.”
He grabbed Theresa's legs and threw them across his shoulders, while he knelt on the edge of the bed. This, by the way, is a position made for deflowering a virgin. Then he took a firm hold of the young girl's buttocks and he maneuvered her so that her little moist hole was in a comfortable position. With technical perfection he brought the tip of his prick against the opening of her cunt and, holding on firmly to her tiny buttocks, he rammed his entire pole deeply into his little partner's belly with one violent jerk of his hips. The moment he had it in, he came.
Even though the penetration had been quick, the pain was terrible. The little girl felt as if her flesh had been torn apart, and she could still feel the warm trickle of blood. She could not hold back her tears, and Father Pineraide lapped them eagerly off her eyelids. He was stretched out on top of her and enjoyed feeling his big prick firmly embedded in her warm, soft hole.
Theresa had thrown her legs around his hips and she pressed herself closely against him. Slowly the pain ebbed away and the after-spasms of the priest's huge cock in her cunt gave her a new feeling which was sweet and indescribably delicious. She had stopped crying altogether and was exchanging fervent tongue kisses with the priest. She sighed again, with lust and desire, and began to wiggle her little behind back and forth. The rocking motions began to harden Pineraide's prick which was still deep inside her pussy. Suddenly Theresa threw her arms around his neck and began to shove her young body up and down, back and forth. Her body shook, and she screamed loudly, “Ooh… now… quick… deeper, my dearest Anatole. You have taken my cherry but now I want you to fuck me again! Please… please… I want to come… I want to come, just like Mother did last night… I want to come and scream and faint, just like Mama… please, screw me as hard and deep and long as you want!”
And she did come, the lucky little girl. Three times. As a matter of fact, the third time she came, the priest literally fucked the shit out of her and she plastered the bedsheet with a considerable pile of turds. That was the finale of the love bout. Father Pineraide had finally gotten firsthand carnal knowledge of the woman.
It gave him something to think about, though, and he came up with the following deep observation. With a man, the pleasure is not as sweet, not as long-lasting and, maybe, not as natural. However, it has one indisputable benefit. During the screwing, the asshole is thoroughly stopped up, and you don't have to be afraid of getting shit all over your bed.
There is something to say for that. What do you think?
CHAPTER V. Mother and Son
Barely ten minutes had gone by since Theresa left, her thighs still dripping with blood, when the doorbell rang again.
Just then, Pineraide was busy dipping his prick in cold water, because all the screwing of the day had made the tip a little bit sore.
“Goddamn it,” he mumbled, “who the hell can that be. They can go and fuck themselves, but I am not going to open that door.”
But the doorbell rang again, more insistent than the first time, and the poor priest was forced to throw his cassock over his naked body and rush to the front door.
Before him stood a young woman, thirty-two at the most, dressed in a morning coat, a little boy of three or four in her arms. The woman looked very appetizing. In a word, she was beautiful! She looked very much like the little Theresa but she was taller, stronger, and her features were more pronounced. Her bosom was simply marvelous. The huge, heavy tits shook up and down under her morning gown with every move she made. They were full and round, and the nipples jutted provocatively against the linen of her dress. Her face was clean, her forehead without a wrinkle, and her eyes were-like those of Theresa-clear and frank. The babe in her arms was sound asleep.
“What can I do for you, dear woman?” asked Father Pineraide.
“Father,” answered the young woman frankly, “I am Theresa's mother. Maybe you remember the little girl you noticed this morning. You were kind enough to pat her cheek. I was very flattered that you seemed to like my little daughter so much and I take the liberty to thank you in person for your kindness.”
“Madame, that is very nice of you. Would you like to come in? Maybe we could talk a little.”
The priest stepped back, inviting the young woman in. She did not have to be cajoled and soon she was, like
