After Mass

She came home from Mass carried on breezes of Spring afternoon. She unlocked the front door and entered the house. Its rooms were lit only by the sunshine passing through the curtains, giving everything a lazy, blue effect.

She heard the familiar sounds of him upstairs.

He was sitting at his writing desk as she came through the door into the bedroom.

"What are you working on?" she asked. She did not pause in the doorway but entered and moved with purpose to a dressing table.

"It's a story," he began, turning to watch her, "about a blameless girl who knows her catechism and has confessed her sins and has been absolved, and has received the host, and now is a spanking-clean picture of innocence and purity."

While he spoke, she quickly and with purpose removed first her bracelet and her earrings, then her blouse and skirt, then her bra, and then her matching panties, until she stood in front of him on cute kitten heels and clad only in stockings held up by a garter belt and a gold chain around her neck, from which dangled a simple gold crucifix.

"Does that story have a happy ending?" she asked, walking towards him all hips and legs and flair.

"Heavenly," he said, and sank into his chair as she leaned down to kiss him hard on his mouth. His arms wrapped around her, holding tightly to her back, pulling her close so he could feel the lightest touch of the crucifix against him.

"Wait a second," he said, breaking their embrace.

He whipped off his t-shirt, tossed it away, and pulled her back to him, kissing her sweet mouth and feeling her breasts touch gently against him, along with the golden crucifix.

"That's better," he said, reaching up to cup her left breast in his right hand. His finger tips played with her nipple and he could hear the irregular effect his touch had on her breathing.

They kissed and she moaned into him as he played with her breasts and her nipples with both hands. He traced the curves of her body down to her hips, crossing the band of her garter belt, its rose centered just above her belly button.

He rested his hands on her hips and squeezed, holding in his forceful grasp that holy, womanly part of her.

He broke their kiss. "I want to taste you," he said.

She gasped.

"I want to taste you like this," he said, holding her wrist lightly and taking her to the bed. He lay himself down in the center of the bed. In that instant, she understood.

"Kneel astride like a penitent, like you're in prayer," he said. "And steady your religious fervor against the headboard."

"Are you sure?" she said, perching her knees on the bed on either side of his face. "I've never—"

"Shhh. You kneel, and I'll worship."

As she was going to say "okay," he held onto her thighs and pulled his mouth up to meet the thin lips of her pussy and any word or thought she might have had she released in an "ohhhhhhhh" that shuddered with her body.

She let herself sink into him and sink into the bed and sink into the pleasure of his mouth and tongue. When she came she came bracing herself against the wooden headboard and already feeling guilty about letting him get her off like this, and so quickly, without her having to lift a finger, so she could just enjoy such wicked, wicked pleasure . . .

The guilt drifted away as he pulled her down to him and he held her and played with her hair in the afterglow.

They didn't speak and the springtime breeze fluttered through the windows.

"Now," she said, rising again to her knees. "Why don't you give me your special benediction." She straddled his hips and rubbed his softened cock head against her sex. He glided against her and into her and out of her as she teased him into strength, goaded him into vigor with the promise of paradise.

When she had coaxed him into hardness, she spoke something quietly to herself and on her "Amen," sank herself on to him, letting him pierce inside her, her body shifting to accommodate his size in the delicious stretching sensation. She held him inside of her, he lay his hands gently on her hips.

His hands never left her hips, guiding her rises and falls. Her breasts bounced above him, and between them jingled her golden crucifix on its soft chain.

When he came, she received him inside of her, watching the flash across his face as he glimpsed that divine power... fleeting, fleeting...his body relaxing under her again. His eyes were closed. He smiled boyishly. His hair was mussed.

She leaned down and kissed him lightly. He had just shared something with her; she could feel the energy still in the room.

Her kiss opened his eyes and, before she pulled her head back too far, while her face was still only inches from his face, he said to her, in the lazy blue light of afternoon, "Amen."