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Divine Desecration

Pages: 1

Oh, god, I know I’m going to get caught. What the hell am I thinking? Am I really going to risk jail time—breaking into a church—just to be able to hang out with that bunch? Is getting James into bed worth it?

The possibility only gives me a moment’s pause. Hell, yes, it’s worth it. The thought of James, of his hands running over my body, makes my pussy start to gush, and it’s not just the cold night air making my nipples hard.

Still, it’s not the most comfortable feeling in the word. My parents dragged me to church every week for ten years, until I grew up enough to say no at the age of sixteen. I haven’t been back inside one in the six years since.

So now I’m lurking outside a church, and it’s not for regular services. Instead I’m undergoing an initiation into a club, an initiation that involves the breaking of taboos. My new social circle, as it were, decided mine were religious. So I’m taking just a bit of the reserve sacrament from a church.

A few years ago, I’d have never even considered doing something like this, something so reckless and wild and a touch sacrilegious. But if…um, appropriating…a little of the reserve sacrament will get me into this rather elite group, and gain James’ attention, I’ll take the risk.

Hardcore kinksters, the lot of them. People always notice them at parties. No matter how hard anyone plays, nothing seems to impress them. It’s as though they’ve tried things more extreme than anyone else would ever dream.

I’ve been skirting the edges of their little group for weeks now. Natasha swings both ways, and a little pillow chat got me an invite to spend some time hanging out with them. Turns out they’re all into the supernatural, big time. Natasha’s a witch, and James is a demonologist, but that’s all I know about them so far. I think Natasha knows about my interest in James, since if I succeed in my ‘task’ he will get to use the wafers in one of his strange, arcane rituals. He should also be damn grateful I’m taking this risk.

Tonight I got the text telling me that the church was empty and that if I wanted into the group, I’d better come through with the goods. It just doesn’t feel quite right, though. Hell, when I left the house, I wasn’t even going to go through with it. I figured I would check the place out and tell them there were no wafers there.

And I must admit, I’m not even really dressed for robbing a church. I’ve heard them talk about the after-initiation party and figured I’d dress for that. If I get caught, I can plead insanity much easier dressed like a slutty Goth rather as a thief in a ski mask. No matter how far I try to pull my mini skirt down, though, it is not going to keep my knees warm.

Thank gosh this church is a long way outside of town. There’s no one to see me creeping around. No cars in the car park, no lights on inside, all very quiet. Just a simple country intersection with an old church. I didn’t ask how they got hold of the key.

With no cars in sight, I sneak across the road and into the churchyard. I slide up to the side door, as instructed, and slip the key into the lock. It turns with a loud click that makes me jump. It really has been awhile since I entered a church—since discovering boys and finding out that getting them to enter me was both easier and more fulfilling.

As I push the door open, it creaks a little, sending a tingle down my spine. The place feels old, haunted, a sensation that always gets me fluttering inside. I have done a little ghost hunting with my college friends, but rarely does it feel like this. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up, as if someone is breathing on me from the shadows. I have to remind myself to breath, to relax, that I'm not going to get caught. I close the door behind me without locking it. If I have to make a quick getaway, I don’t want to stop to fumble with a key. The door out into the main church area is open, with the faint blue light of the sanctuary lamp filtering into the changing room. Along the opposite wall are wardrobes, probably containing the black cassocks and white robes for the choir. I used to wear similar ones each Sunday morning until I learned the joys of lying in bed, and sneaking a boy over to play.

The sound of a siren makes me stiffen in fear. Does the church have an alarm? Are the police on their way? I stand frozen as the blue lights flash through the windows and along the wall and then pass on, continuing down the road. Taking a deep breath, I venture cautiously into the church proper.

The silence is almost as oppressive as the darkness surrounding me. To my left, I can make out the shapes of the first row of pews, then darkness. To my right is the altar, with a blue light casting a cone down on the surface, spotlighting it in a gentle glow. Its presence indicates that the consecrated host—the blessed wafers of bread—is stored somewhere here until someone can take it to the members of the parish who could not make it to church.

I step over the rail, where people kneel to take bread and wine, and approach the altar. About six feet long and three wide, the altar is plain except for the green cloth spread over it. I run my hands over the fabric, realizing that it’s silk, with a high thread count. Very nice.

I lean over, rubbing my cheek against the soft, cool material, wishing James were here with me on this adventure, so he could fuck me on this altar. The thought is completely out of bounds, total fantasy, but it makes my nipples hard, harder than the cold breeze earlier. Maybe if I only take a few wafers, no one will notice, and I can bring James back here another night. We can make-out and get each other hot and bothered at the idea of fucking on the altar or in one of the pews, before heading home for a night of fantasy-fueled sex play.

I skirt around the altar to the alcove in the back, where the tabernacle rests on a stone plinth. After opening the doors and pawing through the items on the shelves, I quickly pull out the little air-tight container. I unscrew the lid and count out four of the wafers. There are at least a dozen, so the priests won’t miss just a few, and I put my four over on the corner of the altar. I rationalize that this is all for a good cause—getting my itch scratched, and not by just anyone. By James.

Tall and muscular, dark-haired and dark-eyed, James reminds me of a Greek god, almost larger than life. He looks like he spends most of his time in the gym, but I've never seen him in workout clothes. He always dresses like a bad boy fantasy, in tight t-shirts and leather and denim. The leather jacket he usually wears barely contains his ripped chest and arms.

I put the container back and close the door. Turning to the altar, I brush the silk covering again. Damn, I’d like to have that on my bed. I wonder if I could get away with taking James an altar cloth—one I’ve bought at a supply shop, that’s never been used—for us to “desecrate.” Would that turn him on? I have no idea what gets a demonologist hot and bothered, but I’m damn sure I can think of a few things to try.

Part of me really wants to feel that silken cloth against my skin. Why not; who’s going to see? I nuzzle my face against the silk again, imagining lifting myself onto the altar and swinging my legs up. Spreading my thighs and playing with my wet pussy. Moaning for James as I get closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. And then he’s there, pushing me down, holding my arms above my head, taking me hard on the soft silk of the alter cloth…

Still leaning over the altar, pressing my thighs together to try and control the flow of juices from my cunt, but knowing it won’t help, I reach under my skirt to slip one finger up and down my black satiny panties. I play gently with my pussy lips, avoiding my aching clit in a bout of self-teasing. With my other hand, I toy with one of my nipples through my lacy black top, feeling the little nub harden from my pinching. Shit, I’m so horny, unusually so, and all the time now. Seems like I’ve been constantly aroused since the moment I laid eyes on James.

I slip a finger past my panties and slide it into myself, surprised at how wet I am already. Reveling in the risk of being caught, I flick my clit with my thumb and moan at the ripple of pleasure that washes through my groin. Oh, god, I don’t think I can wait. A naughty part of me really wants to climb up onto the altar. I rub my aching knob a little harder, a little faster, feeling the pressure building up inside, a rising crescendo of dark delight…

“What are you doing?”

The gravelly voice cuts through the silence, startling me. I stand up quickly in fright and stagger backwards, almost slipping and falling as my heels lose traction on the stone floor. Then the edge of a tile catches one shoe, and I plop down unceremoniously onto the bench against the wall, hitting my head on the wall in the process.

“Are you okay?” the voice asks, a priest I assume. When I look up, he is sitting on the altar, silhouetted by the sanctuary light. How did he get there so suddenly, so quietly?

“I was... I meant ... I mean…” I know I’m not making sense. What can I say to him that would make any sense? Now the full weight of the situation hits me. I’ve just been caught stealing from a church, about to start masturbating on the altar. Shit. I guess I’m going to get to see that disappointed look on Dad’s face again, when my parents bail me out of jail, if they bail me out.

I peer at the priest, trying to figure out how angry he is, but I can’t see his face clearly enough. The light behind him, from the sanctuary, casts deep shadows that hide his features.

“Let me guess. You’re a pretty little wannabe Satanist who came here to steal the reserve sacrament to use in some demonology experiment. Am I correct?” His voice grates on me in an oddly erotic way, with that certain tone of authority that priests and school principals have. It sends a shiver up my spine. All I can do is nod.

“I know all your sins. I will forgive you if you are suitably penitent. Are you willing to get down on your knees and work for your forgiveness?”

It feels like ice is flowing through my veins, as it I realize when he’s suggesting. The feeling gives way to hot anger.

“You sick fucker. You call yourself a man of God?”

“No, actually, I don’t. In fact, I have very little to do with the God you refer to. Or rather, He’s decided not to have much to do with me, considering my father was a bit of a rebel. My mother was no angel, either, but not in the same was as dear Dad.”

As he’s speaking, I swear his eyes are starting to glow a deep red, like coals in a fire, burning into me with an intensity that’s frightening and erotic at the same time.

“What’s wrong, Tracy? I thought you wanted to join our little paranormal sex club.”

I don’t know what scares me the most, the fact that he knows my name, that he knows about the club, or that he is implying he is not…human. I stare hard at him, trying to make out more of the details of the figure sitting before me. The smooth outline of well-muscled shoulders make it clear that he is shirtless. His arms looked strong and defined, like he could practically pick me up with one hand. He looks pretty human to me, built but human.

“Isn’t this what you want? A supernatural encounter? I assure you, when I have finished entertaining myself with your body, you will never want a human lover again.”

“So you’re telling me you’re what? A demon? This is a church, for chrissake.”

“Was a church. It hasn’t been used as a place of Christian worship for twenty years. I bought it about a year ago.”

Oh, shit. Now I know I really am in trouble. Those bastards set me up. They must have known that the church is deconsecrated and a crazy guy who thinks he is a demon lives here.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper. “I didn’t know. I just wanted…”

“You wanted to join the club.” It is a statement, not a question. I nod again.

“Why is getting to know them so important to you? Are you a journalist?”

“No, I’m still trying to pay my way through college. I want to be a nurse, not a reporter. Please, you have to believe me. I… I just like it kinky, okay?” I gush out the confession, blushing all the while.

“You’d break into a church just for kinky sex?”

“Not just for that.”

“Then why?”

“To be accepted,” I blurt out, cringing at how desperate that sounds, and how true it is. “To feel like I’m part of something. Something special. Something different. Please believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you. We wouldn’t have given you a key otherwise. We never doubted your sincerity, just your motives.”

Is he saying what I think he is?

“So, Tracy…do you want to try things beyond mortal ken? To know, rather than suspect, that there are supernatural delights that most people will never taste? Is that hesitation? Really, Tracy, Natasha told me you were very adventurous and quite interested.”

“She set me up, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she set you up with what you expected. Something naughty. Something scary.”

“Why?”

“Because fear is such a powerful aphrodisiac. We thought that was what you wanted. We would never really ask you to rob a church. I only live here because of the irony. What sort of friends do you think we are? Besides, I’ve seen you watching me.” He drops the growling from his voice with that last sentence and leans back slightly, allowing the light to stream over his face.

“James!” I scream, throwing myself up and beating at him. “You scared the shit out of me, you bastard.”

I collapse into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time. It’s heaven; these muscular arms look and feel even better than my fantasies. I realize my dream is coming true, I’m in James’ arms, rather than about to be murdered by a crazy person who thinks he’s a demon. As I lift my head, watching his eyes, I lean close and dart a glance at his lips, parted in a slight smirk.

“So do you want to do it on this old, deconsecrated altar?” he asks. “To feel the cool silk against your back and my warm breath on your body?”

In answer I move my lips to his and thrust my tongue into his mouth with a frenzy that I hope will be sufficient answer. With the fear gone, the burning is back in my cunt, and I think I’ve earned a damn good fucking tonight.

James shifts his weight forward as he draws me close, his legs parting as I move towards him. I can feel the muscles of his thighs pressing against the outside of mine, his hot skin warming my cold legs. He squeezes his legs inward, forcing my thighs together, making me squirm as his tongue probes my mouth. His hands trace my spine, sending waves of tingling warmth though my body. I realize he’s completely naked as his huge cock throbs against me.

I pull away for breath, and James leans back, so the light cascades down his muscled chest and thighs. The size of his member, pointing straight up at me, makes me gasp. Reaching down, I grip the thick shaft firmly, enjoying the low moan this solicits from him. I slowly slide my hand up and down his dick. Damn, he must be ten inches long. His member pulses in my hand, throbbing with a life that certainly seems supernatural. Super, at least.

“What was that about going down on my knees and working for forgiveness?” I ask in a low voice, squeezing his cock hard and enjoying the way it jerks in response.

“Well, you are a naughty girl,” he replies with an approving smirk. I kiss my way down his broad chest, so slowly, enjoying the hardness of his muscles, his buff body. His skin is smooth and warm to my touch, and he tastes and smells faintly of cinnamon. James shifts back further as my lips find the head of his cock, and I start teasing his glands with my lips, hinting at taking his tool into my mouth. The floor is cold under my knees, an interesting contrast to the heat of his body. I look up into his eyes and watch his reactions as I take my time meticulously, deliberately licking around the head of his cock.

“Oh, damn, that is good,” he moans, nudging his hips forward and lifting his ass of the altar, pushing his cock past my lips. His solid, muscled thighs feel like tree trunks either side of me. “Take it, Tracy. Take it into your mouth. All the way down your throat. I want to feel it choking you.”

He pulls back from me, but I greedily lower my head, keeping his massive member deep in my mouth as he sits back down on the altar. I slide my lips further down his shaft, wanting more of this pulsing cock in my mouth. I gag a little as it touches the back of my throat, then relax to take more. He places a guiding hand firmly on the back of my head, holding me there as he flexes his rod, making it jerk in my throat.

James lets me draw back, and I slip his cock from my mouth, leaving a coating of saliva all along the shaft and head. I suck at the head and slide my hand up and down slowly while flicking the slit at the tip with my tongue.

“Fuck, that feels nice, but not as nice as your throat.” James tightens his hold on the back of my head, knotting his fingers in my hair and pushing me down again. The feeling of being controlled sends a tingle through my pussy, and I can feel a trickle of my juices running down my thigh. I relax and let his huge member slide deeper into my mouth, as the gagging feeling blurs with the need to be used. With his fist in my hair, he pumps my head up and down, my drool flowing over his balls.

“That will do for now.” Still holding my hair, James pulls me to my feet, roughly but not too painfully, taking a measure of control that I am glad to relinquish to him. He trusts his tongue into my mouth again, exploring, probing, darting. With a strength that surprises me, even after feeling his body next to mine, James swings me up, around, and lays me down onto the altar. I feel so vulnerable, laying there stretched out, a sacrifice to the rock hard body and gorgeous face looking down at me. I want to run my hands though his short, dark hair, to caress him with a gentleness that counterpoints his strength. His eyes fascinate me, a deep shade of brown that catches the reflected light from the pale cloth. It makes them appear to glow red, even in the shadows.

James shifts position, and for a second, I’m almost blinded by the light of the lamp directly above, before he leans over me, a silhouette against the blue glow. He takes his time caressing my body, running his warm hands over my stomach, my arms, and the outside of my legs. His fingers tease, swirling close to my thighs, my tits, my throbbing pussy, never quite touching but always hinting at pleasures to come.

“Please. I’m yours. I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, as long as it includes fucking me with that cock,” I say, desperate to feel his touch in more intimate places. Fuck it; what I really want is to feel those fingers sliding in and out of my pussy, to hear my juices slopping, to lick them off his fingers, off his cock.

“Patience. You’ll get what you want soon enough. First, I’m going to rip off all your clothes and have a taste of your hot, young flesh,” James says, his hand on my stomach, holding me firmly to the altar. I try to lift up and realize I might as well be chained down; his strength is incredible.

With his other hand, he slides a fingernail under the top button of my blouse. He pauses for a second, until I look him in the eye. Then he flicks his finger under the button, and I hear the plastic disk skitter across the stone floor. I gasp, wondering how his nail could be that sharp. My eyes widen as he slips his nail under the next button and it, too, pops off with a flick and disappears into the darkness.

“How did you…?” I gasp, still held firmly by his other hand.

In answer, James caresses the side of my cheek with his fingers, his nails long and extended, sharp and slightly curved, almost like talons.

“You think we were joking when we talked about being paranormal?” he whispers, leaning over and blocking the light again. In the depth of the shadows his eyes are glowing like coals again. A third button rolls away, and he pulls my blouse open and caresses my naked stomach.

“I...thought it was a metaphor.”

“It’s not, and our tastes are as supernatural as our bodies. I crave the energies your body will give off when you come, again and again, as I play your soul and make you scream with pleasure.”

There's a tone to his voice that makes it clear to me that he is not joking. I've looked at his hands many times, fantasized about them roaming my body just like this. His nails were always well manicured, cut short and clean. As I tremble under his hand, I realize that this is as real as it gets. I'm about to be fucked by more than a man, a half-demon. The idea of it, the reality of it, makes me hotter than I've ever been in my life.

I groan, as he runs a talon under my bra, along the crease under my breast, making me squirm and pant like a bitch in heat.

James lowers his head and kisses me passionately again, sucking my tongue into his mouth. As he bites playfully down on my tongue, I realize his teeth are as sharp as his nails. I squirm as James pulls me up into his kiss, my body writhing in his arms as the pressure on my tongue saps all remaining resistance from my body. I feel the tightness of the strap around my back as he uses a fingernail to slice my bra open between the cups. Then his deft fingers are peeling my bra away, exposing my tits to the chilled air. I can’t believe my nipples are getting even harder. His teeth let go of my tongue as he lowers my head back onto the altar.

“Such nice, soft tits. It feels like I’ve been waiting forever to get my hands…and teeth…on them.”

I try to arch my back, resisting the hand still on my stomach, as his lips find my breast. James holds me fast, pinned and helpless with the strength of one arm. His tongue flicks at the nipple, strumming back and fore with an intensity that sends shivers down to my cunt. His teeth press gently either side of the nipple; the threat of how much they could hurt sends tingles through me. He sighs hot breath over my wet skin, evaporating his saliva and chilling the tender nub, before quickly dropping his head back down to nip and tease again.

James shifts to tease my other nipple, this time more slowly, flicking it with a fingernail-turned-talon. I whimper, afraid to move but feeling the urgent need to writhe under this touch. His nail feels so hard that, were it not for seeing it with my own eyes, I would have sworn he was running a blade around my breast. I try to raise up again, to get a better view, and he flexes the fingers on the hand holding me down. Those nails dig into my flesh just enough to make me realize I am his to do with as he wishes, a plaything for his pleasure.

“Don’t try and get up. Stay where I put you,” James commands. I’m not of a mind to argue with a man—or demon—bringing me such delight. James steps back into the shadows, and I hear a slight pop and feel an odd displacement of air, like a change in pressure, then again a few seconds later. I lift my head a little to look into the darkness and then jump as James touches me on the shoulder. He places a pillow behind my head. “What did you just do? How did you move so quickly?”

James perks one brow wickedly. “I can move though shadows—one of the gifts I have.” His hand pushes me back down with that strength I’m beginning to love. He moves to the bottom of the altar, leaning forward over my legs. I sigh as he starts to massage my calves, slowly, sensually, from the inside of my legs outwards, kneading the muscles, his nails gently scratching the skin.

“Nice long, smooth legs,” he purrs. “I see you shaved them tonight. In anticipation of this, perhaps? You were hoping I’d run my hands over them, caressing and parting them, opening you up for my attentions.”

My only response is an increase in panting. He’s playing my body like a musical instrument, and I’m not sure how much more I can take before I beg to be fucked.

With each caress, his hands slide a little further up. His nails tease the backs of my knees, making me squeal as the touch tickles more than I care to admit I like.

“Oh, god, I need to come soon,” I plead. “Please.”

I hadn’t realized he’d loosened my skirt, or maybe he cut the waist with one of the passes of his hands, but I feel his hands lift me slightly. Then his nails slide down the outsides of my thighs from waist to knees, taking my skirt and panties with them.

His breath flows along the insides of my thighs as he runs his hands up them, pulling my legs apart. James looms over me, spreading my legs, opening my pussy up to his touch. I feel my own wetness running down my thighs as they part. “Please,” I whisper again.

Hot breath stirs the fine hairs around my cunt, a blissful tingle almost too intense for me to handle. I hear him sniff deeply, savoring the musk that is filling this old church, the scent of sex and juices and still that hint of cinnamon.

“Yes, you do need to come, don’t you? I don’t think it will take much,” he answers, sounding mischievous.

I look down my body to see his head hovering over my pussy, his eyes glowing red again. He extends a tongue and waves it teasingly over my clit.

“For fuck sake, please. I need it. I need it, James,” I keen.

He smiles and presses his face down to lave my throbbing clit with ravenously his tongue. It’s like a bomb of sharp, searing pleasure has gone off inside of me. His tongue feels electric, hot, vibrating. His hands hold my hips absolutely still as I try not to scream too loudly. I realize it’s my entire body that is vibrating, not his tongue, as my sudden orgasm shudders through me. He flicks my nub harder then, sending a jolt of jarring pleasure up through my the core of my pussy, my stomach, my spine. As it diminishes, he does it again, bringing me back to the peak of rapture. A third time. And again. I lose track of how often he sends me to the heights of ecstasy. It seems like an eternity before the waves of bliss relent.

Then James licks the entire length of my slit, his tongue pushing aside my outer lips, probing, tasting, exploring. I squeal again, and he loosens his grip on my hips, allowing me to push my pussy up to meet his tongue. His nails trace the crease of skin where my legs meet my hips, the sharpness a counterpoint to the velvety softness of his tongue lapping away at my juices.

He runs his hands up my body as his lips toy with my clit, his fingers sliding over the curves of my breasts, up to my neck. I feel the sharpness of his nails as he starts to run them back down, over my flushed, sensitive tits, with more pressure. I push up into the sharpness, feeling the welts form under the scratches. As his lips suck hard on the nub of my clit, his fingers knead their way all the way down to my mound. He digs his talons into my inner thighs, and I come again, hard and fast, riding the waves of pleasure. I've never truly experienced fireworks during sex, but the flashes of light behind my eyelids as my body convulses must be what people meant. I’m floating on waves of ecstasy, my sense of self dissolving into the experience.

James gives me no rest. Even before the last ripple shudders though my body, he’s sucking my labia in between his skilled lips. His teeth bite softly, making me gasp again.

His talons rake my stomach, leaving more red welts, marks that clearly show he has taken possession of my quivering body. Then his fingertips find my nipples and pinch them hard, harder than before. I bite my lip to stop myself from screaming, from calling out for him to stop. I don’t want it to stop. Not now. Not ever.

I don’t know what is more intense, the teeth on my pussy or the nails digging into my nipples. I don’t care. Another orgasm crashes over me, and I can’t hold back; I scream as my body explodes and my mind dissolves into a cloud of pleasure.

A shadow passes over my face, and I wonder how long I was coming and if I actually passed out from the intensity of it all. I open my eyes to see James hovering over me, kneeling between my open thighs. That huge cock jutting out threateningly in front of him. Despite the roughness of the sex so far, he has a gentle look in his eyes, one that makes me feel safe. The sharp panes of light and shadow from the dim bulb hanging above us highlight the strength of his arms and his shoulders. He leans over and kisses me tenderly on the lips, then pulls back to smile. He shifts his weight to one hand and traces the curve of my breast with a nail, spiraling in to the nipple but not pinching this time, just massaging with the pad of his thumb. A moan erupts from deep inside my chest.

“That was just the foreplay. Are you ready for the real thing?”

I nod, reaching down to grasp his cock and hungrily place the head at my soaking pussy lips. He slides the head in, and I arch my back.

“God, you’re big!” I gasp, realizing even as I exclaim this, he has only slipped the bulging head inside me.

“Looks like it’s more than you can take. Maybe we’d better stop,” he taunts, with that cheeky smirk on his lips. He slides the head back out, until it is only just parting my lips, then back in again an inch or two.

I moan from the depths of my chest, squirming under him, wanting to feel more of him inside me. “Please. All of it,” I plead.

“When I’m ready to give you everything I’ve got for you, you’ll know it,” James tells me, again leaving me in no doubt as to who is in charge. “Nice and slowly,” he croons as he works his way into me. “Let it build. We can’t have you coming again so soon, or you might pass out on me.”

Stroke after stroke, with exquisite slowness, he slides his thick rod in and out of my sopping wet pussy. I want to scream for him to thrust deeper, faster, harder. I want to feel his pelvis grinding against my clit as his cock violates my innermost spaces, to feel his juices shoot inside me.

James pauses then, holding his cock just outside my lips. As he flexes his rigid dick, I feel it jerk along my slit, grazing my clit. I almost come at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

“Ready?” he asks.

I look at him as if he’s insane. Ready? I think the pleading look in my eyes is answer enough.

“Ready?” he asks again. I think I should kill him when this is over. He deserves it. He opens his mouth as if to ask again, then thrusts his whole length into my fluttering pussy.

“Shit!” I scream from clenched lips. I’m glad I’m so wet, because that’s a lot of cock.

“Fuck. You’re. Tight.” He gasps as he pounds into me like a jackhammer. I claw at his back, my teeth set against the waves of bliss coursing through my body. I’m not sure when the first orgasm runs into the second, but it’s quick, very quick.

As I draw a long, gasping breath, James slows down. He matches his thrusts to my panting. It feels like a current of energy flowing up through my body with every stroke. His eyes have that ruddy glow inside them, two burning coals in the shadowy planes of his handsome face, as he looms above me in the old, deconsecrated church. The light is swinging slightly from the vibration below it, or maybe the earth is moving. I don’t care. I’m about to come again as James speeds up his thrusts, hammering into me with an animal intensity. I scream again as I feel his cum jetting up inside my pussy. Pulse after pulse washes over my cervix as his body shudders on top of mine, his weight pinning me to the altar.

“Fuck,” I groan, as he lifts himself off me, sliding his legs down to the floor, still leaning over me.

“Close your eyes.”

“I can’t take any more.” I never thought I’d say that.

“Just close your eyes.”

I obey him, expecting another intimate touch. I’m surprised when I feel him lift me up from the altar. There’s a sudden sensation of rushing air, and I can see through my eyelids that he’s turned the main light on. That’s actually kind of sweet, I realize, that he didn’t want to hurt my eyes with the sudden brightness. James lowers me onto a soft surface. “You can open your eyes again.”

As I do so, I marvel. We’re no longer in the church; we’re in my bedroom. What the hell?

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