Chapter 6
Rachel stretched her slender neck forward like an infant bird,
yearning hungrily for the boy's cock, she pursed her lips,
wetting them, her tiny pink tongue leaving them gleaming with the
saliva that rose in deliberate anticipation. Behind her she felt
the old man's cock searching for her cunt through the sodden
curls of the matted hair lining the lips of her cunt......
The sound of a door latch in the dark startled the teenager as
she stood guiltily in the pool of light in the middle of the
room. She struggled to push the filthy fantasy from her mind, but
her hands continued their mechanical torment of her cunt and
clit. The oily juices flowing from her mixed with the soapy
water coating her glistening form. Her mind reeled, as she
remembered where and who she was. "Are you so lost?" her
rational mind cried out. "You are a good and holy woman!" it
said. "Reject the pleasures of the flesh!!" Rachel's only
response was a guilty groan, as the split fingers of one hand,
pulled back and exposed the swollen angry red nub of her clit to
the direct, tormenting attention of the fingers of her other hand.
Just as her fingers began to pinch the thick projecting fleshy
nub, a voice jolted her back to reality.
"Rachel, my child is that you?" the voice of the old padre said,
filling the room. His hulking form materialized at the edge of
the light, cast by the flickering candles on the tall stands near
the nude girl.
The Padre's late arrival at the washroom was to wash away the dust
of the road. He had seen the young woman bathing and had intended
to spare her the embarrassment of knowing of his intrusion.
Something rooted him to the spot. Like some obscene voyeur, his
mouth became dry, as he relished watching the perfectly formed
teenager bath. He watched as she had sponged every curve of her
flawless white skin. The firm muscles of her shoulders rippled
under smooth skin. He watched her sponge the muscular expanse of
her upper chest, and watched as the suds ran over the swelling curves
of her huge breasts. He had marveled at the heavy weight of her
breasts, as they stood high and proud, revealing only a hint of
sag on the downward curve, where they joined her lean ribcage.
Soap flowed down the deep cleavage, between the succulent orbs
that rippled and jiggled with her every movement. Beneath the
pale white skin, he could see a network of light blue veins
feeding her blood engorged nipples.
He wet his thick black lips, as the wet elongated nipples shown
like diamonds under the reflected candlelight. He watched them
lengthen, as her aureoles tightened from the cool wetness. His
gaze followed the stream of soapy water, as it ran from her
cleavage, down the long flat plane of her stomach and through
the sparse patch blonde curls that graced her mons. His eyes
widened, as the miniature river was divided by the large
protuberance of her clit, to finally drip from her downward
hanging labia, that projected like a fat pink tongue from her
hidden slit.
He stood frozen, as her gleaming thighs trembled while she
debased herself in selfish pleasure, abusing the nub of her clit
with greedy fingers. He felt a stirring beneath his cassock that
he had thought to be long dead. The young woman was perfection
incarnate, yet here she stood, debasing herself like a common
Puta. He felt a profound loss, and sympathy mixed with contempt
for the sluttish girl. "She has the world," he thought, "yet she
wants to play the whore."
Priestly thoughts overwhelmed the carnal desires he felt, "The
slut violates god's will in his very house!" he thought with
outrage.
He knew the girl must do penance, and the priest in him was enraged
at the long dormant feelings that she had resurrected in him.
"Surely the slut is a vessel of lust! Put on this earth to tempt
the holiest of men. Satan must be driven out of her!" he
thought, as he watched her continue to abuse the sensitive flesh
between her legs, like a needy whore.
Rachel was lost in lust, as she smiled at the old Padre, and
unashamedly fought for sexual release. Her fingers were a blur,
as she worried the stiff nub of reddened flesh.
Before she could move, the old Padre stepped forward, "Puta!" he
spat, as he sent her reeling, as his open hand crashed into her
cheek.
