"Yes," he
breathed, feeling at home as the black cloth settled around his
body. Tugging his boxer shorts down and kicking them across the
room, he smiled as the rough cloth of his cassock brushed against
his stiffening penis. His arousal rising, he knew he was going to
have to make plans for sexual gratification during Josie's trip to
Moscow. Wanking was all very well, but it was no substitute for the
tightness of a girl's toned bottom. Swigging from his can of lager
as the doorbell rang, he wandered through the hall and caught sight
of himself in the mirror. He really did feel at home in the
cassock. A form of cross dressing, he mused, opening the front
door. He must dig out his red silk panties and have a damned good
wank.
"Hello,
Father," a delectable teenage blonde grinned. His prayers had been
answered. "I'm Marianne, Marianne Baxter."
"But..." he
stammered, eyeing her ripe nipples pressing through the tight
material of her pink T-shirt. "Mrs Baxter doesn't have a daughter.
I mean, she has Chloe, but..."
"She has two
daughters now," the girl said, walking past him into the hall.
"Now? Oh,
right," Will breathed, closing the door and following the blonde
nymph into the lounge. "Your mother... Mrs Baxter was saying you're
having some problems," he smiled as she perched her rounded
buttocks on the edge of the sofa. "She thought I might be able to
give you a hand."
"That's
right," she said softly. "I believe myself to be my mother's
daughter."
"And you're
not her daughter."
"Yes I
am."
"What?"
"That's the
problem, Father. I am my mother's daughter. I am of my mother's
barren womb."
"Ah, I'm with
you. You're your mother's daughter, but not the daughter of Mrs
Baxter."
"Mrs Baxter is
my mother. You see, she hasn't got a daughter, apart from Chloe,
and..."
"OK, I think
we'll leave it at that," Will interrupted the girl. This took him
back. "I've not seen you around the village before."
"I only came
this morning."
"I see.
Apparently you're still breastfeeding."
"I don't have
a baby, Father," she said, her blue eyes frowning.
"No, no.
You're still suckling your mother's breast."
"I'd rather
not talk about breastfeeding," she sighed. "It pains me
terribly."
"Yes, I
suppose it would. It must be painful for your mother too."
This really
did take Will Entercock back to the good old days. His cassock
caressing his penile head, a teenage angel sitting on his sofa
talking about breastfeeding... This was a sign from God, he knew as
he eyed her slender thighs emerging invitingly from beneath her
tight miniskirt. A sign to be heeded, he thought, his cock
stiffening, his heavy balls rolling. But had he lost his touch?
He'd remained faithful to Josie for six months. Well, almost. The
girl who'd lost her way in the woods didn't count. Will had only
weakened once, or twice, by licking her clitoris to orgasm and then
fucking her tight pussy and spunking her ripe cervix before
shafting the hot duct of her rectum. It had been a minor incident
of infidelity.
"Masturbation," he smiled. He might as well go for broke.
"Pardon?" she
frowned, hooking her long blonde hair behind her ears.
"Would you
like to talk about masturbation?"
"Yes, I
would," she replied enthusiastically, tossing her blonde hair over
her shoulder. "But I can't."
"Why not?"
"It disturbs
me to talk about masturbation."
"Many things
disturb us, Marianne," he said. "I'd say your disturbance stems
from childhood. I know mine does. I blame the parents. Not that I
recall having parents."
"My
mother?"
"No, Mrs
Baxter."
This was too much for Entercock. The temptation to rip the
girl's pussy-wet knickers off and bury his face between the warm
flesh of her firm thighs was...
God, give
me strength
, he prayed. The strength and
opportunity to fuck the arse off the beauty. Thoughts of Josie
loomed in his racked mind as he imagined Marianne's wet panties.
She'd asked him to behave himself while she was away, and he
couldn't let her down. But a quick anal shag wasn't exactly
misbehaving, was it?
"I'll be
struck down at this rate," he murmured.
"Struck down?"
the girl echoed, her sky-blue eyes gazing lustfully at Will.
"I was having
nasty thoughts," he confessed. "It's a little trait of mine."
"I'm always
having nasty thoughts, Father. The other night, when I was naked in
my bed, I wondered what it would be like to have a dog licking my
bottom-hole."
"My God," Will
gasped.
"That's what I
thought. I thought, my God, what an experience that would be. I
then turned my thoughts to the matter in hand."
"Which
was?"
"My naked
body."
Will paced the
floor, his penis twitching as the girl deliberately parted her
thighs. Glimpsing the bulging material of her panties, he knew that
he couldn't control his base male desires any longer. But there was
something odd about the girl, something not quit right about the
situation. Mrs Baxter didn't have a second daughter. Not unless
she'd miraculously given birth to a horny teenage girl overnight.
Not only would the birth be deemed miraculous, but the fact that a
man had fucked the middle-aged woman wouldn't be far short of a
miracle. Was this the girl Josie had seen hanging around in the
lane?
"I have to say
this, Marianne," Will murmured, wondering whether she'd shaved her
pubic curls.
"Say what,
Father?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.
"I believe you
to be a spy."
"A spy?"
"Spies are
rife in the village of Cumsdale. At least, they were. My
wife-to-be, or not-to-be, as the case maybe or may not be... Josie
was a journalist. She still is. She's on an assignment in Moscow at
the moment. You'll appreciate that I can't say too much about the
assignment as she's working for the KGB."
"Oh, right,"
the girl frowned.
"Josie
originally came to the village to expose me."
"Did she?"
"Yes."
"That's
disgusting, Father. Exposing a man of God like that is..."
"No, I don't
mean expose as in exposure of a penis. I mean, expose me for the
sad pervert I... What the hell am I talking about?"
"I have no
idea, Father."
"There was a
man from the water authority who was bent..."
"Gay?" the
girl grinned.
"Bent on
exposing me. So, you'll appreciate the fact that I have to be very
careful when it comes to girls. Times have changed, Marianne. I can
no longer toss caution to the wind and toss off..."
"But I'm not a
spy."
"Are you
working for MI5?"
"Of course
not."
"I shall
check."
"I don't mind
what you do."
"Then, what
are you doing here?"
"I've come to
confess my sins, Father."
"I can't take
confession, Marianne. I'm no longer a priest."
"You're
wearing a cassock."
"I've meta...
metamorph..."
"Metamorphosed?"
"No, I've
changed."
"Into your
cassock?"
"Yes, I was
reminiscing."
"Why not
reminisce a little longer and hear my confession?" she proffered
eagerly. "You want to go back to your work as a priest, don't
you?"
"Well... Yes,
I do. I miss it terribly - and the priesthood. I should never have
got caught."
"Be your own
priest, then. You can start your own church."
"You may have
something there," he said, rubbing his chin. "You may just have
something there, my horny little... My child."
The girl was
brilliant, Entercock reflected. She not only had a brilliant body
and would no doubt be a brilliant fuck, but she had a brilliant
mind. Why not start his own church? He knew the Bishop could do
nothing to stop him. Besides, he was probably too busy tonguing a
choirboy's arse to worry about the likes of Entercock. In fact, no
one could stop him from preaching in the privacy of his own home. s
far as he knew there was no law against taking confession in his
house. And if there was, they could stuff it. The idea appealing to
him, he paced the floor again. Nothing could go wrong, and no one
could stop him.
"OK," he said,
turning and facing the girl. "Confess your sins."
"Forgive me,
Father, for I have sinned," she murmured, hanging her head.
"Go on, go
on," he enthused impatiently.
"I don't know
what to say."
"You're
supposed to tell me the things you've done to your beautiful,
fresh, curvaceous, firm, warm, wet pussy and..."
"I haven't
done anything to the cat," she returned. "I'm an animal lover."
"What?"
"I love
animals."
"Have you
sinned or not?"
"No."
"Why not, for
God's sake? Do you want to sin?"
"Yes, that's
why I'm here."
"Ah, now we're
getting somewhere," he grinned, clapping his hands. "You want to
commit sins of the flesh with me, isn't that right?"
"No, it's not.
I want to confess my sin, which is that I want to sin. It's a sin
to want to sin."
"I can't be
doing with all this," Will sighed.
"Without sin
there can be no redemption."
"Who told you
that? Some fucking do-gooder, no doubt. Sorry, I didn't mean to
swear."
"You are
forgiven," she giggled.
"Hey, I'm the
priest."
"And I'm the
priestess. By the way, I know about your website."
"What?" he
frowned. "Who told you...? I mean, I don't have a website."
"Yes, you do.
Entercockenterprises dot cum."
"Ah, that web
site. Er... Wait a minute. You are a bloody spy. It all fits
now."
"No I'm
not."
"Get your
knickers off."
"No."
"Get your
knickers off, or I shall call on Satan to remove them with his
horns."
Shaking his head despondently as the crazy girl fled the
house, Will decided to take a walk. His cassock would turn a few
heads, he knew as he grabbed his keys and closed the front door
behind him. Six months, he reflected sadly. What a waste of time.
Strolling down the lane beneath the summer sun, he had intended to
walk into the village. But his base desires got the better of him
and he made his way to the convent. This was his calling, he knew
as he wandered along the lane, turning every now and then to make
sure he wasn't being followed by a water authority official - or a
girl.
Fucking spies
, he thought irritably. He knew they were after
him.
Was that the
fragrance of fresh pussy wafting on the summer breeze? This was,
indeed, a calling from God. A calling so powerful he could feel it
stirring in his loins, heaving within his scrotal sac, throbbing
within his purple knob. The convent was like a magnet, attracting
him, sucking him in. This was meant to be, he knew as he recalled
the girls playing netball, sitting cross-legged on the grass with
the crotches of their panties displayed.
Walking through the grounds, he stopped and gazed at a
circular clump of bushes. He'd taken many a nun into the bushes and
had his wicked way with her. And many a nun had taken
him
into the bushes too.
Looking up at the Victorian building, he smiled as memories flooded
his mind. Recalling climbing up the drainpipe and slipping into the
laundry room, he could almost smell the aroma of the convent girls'
knickers, the aphrodisiacal scent of fresh pussy... But there had
been someone hell-bent on putting an end to his pursuit of sexual
gratification. An ugly, overweight, slack-titted, cowbag... The
battles with the Mother Superior had been many and
bloody.
"Blasphemer!"
a woman dressed in a habit and wimple bawled, running towards
Entercock. "Blasphemer!"
"My God," Will
breathed, gazing in horror at the Mother Superior scurrying across
the grass. "It's you."
"Why are you
wearing that cassock?" she asked, placing her hands on her ample
hips as she stood before him and scowled.
"Because I
like it," he returned.
"You are not
allowed to wear the cloth."
"Is there a
law against it?" he sniggered. "My God, how you've aged. And you've
put on weight."
"I shall
notify the Bishop of your blasphemous behaviour without delay," she
stormed, turning and marching towards the building. "And keep away
from my convent."
"You can
notify your arse for all I care. And I won't keep away from your
brothel."
"You're a vile
and despicable man, Entercock."
"I'll take
that as a compliment."
"I'll wipe
that grin off your face, just you wait and see," she hissed.
"May Satan
devour the wrinkled leather bags hanging from your hairy chest," he
called as her generous frame grew smaller with distance.
"You've not
heard the end of this, Entercock!"
"And the
novice nuns haven't seen the end of mine, yet!"
Laughing, Will
headed around the side of the building to the small door he used to
slip through when in dire need of a fresh girl. Looking about him,
he opened the door and stole into the narrow corridor. It took him
back, inhaling the cold, musky air. Examining the stone floor
behind the door, he grinned. The whitish stain was still there, and
he recalled a young nun wanking him off, his seed falling on stony
ground. But it wasn't only the nuns who'd eagerly sought his erect
cock. The convent girls used to flock to him for advice, guidance -
and frenzied sex.
His reverie broken by low murmurs coming from a side room, he
edged his way along the corridor and spied through the crack in a
door. Grinning, he could hardly believe the site that met his eyes.
Wearing only a bra and skimpy panties, a young nun was ironing a
habit. Gazing at her succulent lips, he imagined the globe of his
cock there, spunking into her mouth. Mumbling to herself about the
Reverend Mother, she didn't seem at all happy. Will only caught the
odd word.
Fucking hag. Crab-infested
bitch
. But he got the gist of the girl's
sentiments towards the woman.