Don Josiah, in a suit, was driving black-haired, black-eyed Camilla--who was wearing her green, flowery dress--back to his home after church that Sunday afternoon; he was thinking about the sermon, and she was thinking about his cock.
"So, that's what an Anglican church service is like," he said as he parked at his home. They got out of the car. "That homily was surprisingly good. I'm glad I opened my mind to the Episcopal Church; I took us there originally because I didn't want to see the parishioners of our old Catholic church gossiping when they saw us together. Of course, I was also considering becoming an Anglican minister for your sake." He unlocked the door to his home, and they went inside.
"Aren't you still thinking about it, Father?" Camilla asked.
"Please, Camilla; I'm not a priest anymore. Call me Don," he said as they went into the bedroom. "And actually, I don't think I want to be a preacher anymore." They started undressing.
"But how will you make money to live? What else can you do?" She was in her white bra and panties.
"Oh, I'll think of something--teaching, maybe. The point is, that sermon really made me want to rethink my life. Why did I become a priest, in the first place? Not for God, but for my mother. You realized that long ago. I was putting her before God--well, not anymore. Loving and idolizing the petty things of this world is exactly what's wrong with this world; people don't love God, by which I mean not the God of this denomination or that one. In fact, I wonder if it even matters if loving God means being a part of this religion or that one, or being a part of
any
religion. I'm starting to think that loving God really means loving wisdom and truth. Something inside me--I don't know what--is making me think differently about the world."
Nigrovum is, of course,
Camilla thought.
She was now naked, lying on the bed, and yawning from listening to Don's prolixity.
"That minister really did a good interpretation of the meaning of the ten commandments," he continued, pulling open a dresser drawer to put something in it; Camilla looked in and saw a pistol and a small box of bullets. She was no longer bored with him. "He really expanded the meaning of--"
"You have a gun? Wow," she interrupted, pretending to have only innocuous curiosity.
"Yeah," he said, pulling off his underwear and lying naked on the bed next to her. "I go to a target practice area sometimes and shoot the gun; it helps relieve my stress."
"Cool," she said. Knowing he could psychically sense her darker thoughts, she refrained from thinking them. "What else did you like about the sermon?" She pecked him on the cheek, and he pulled the blankets over them.
"I really liked the minister's expanding of the meaning of not taking the Lord's name in vain to the idea of not saying hurtful words in general." He got on top of her in the missionary position.
How about not saying
boring
words in general?
she thought.
"And when he expanded 'thou shalt not kill' into how we all kill each other a little every day with our mean remarks, gossip, and petty selfishness. Truly inspirational. I'll never be prejudiced against Protestants--or any other denomination, or even any other religion--again. We can learn a little something from all of them." As he embraced and kissed her on the lips, his penis grew erect.
Good,
she thought;
if you're going to worship other gods, worship
me
, the goddess Camilla.
She raised her legs up to receive his cock, and he slid it inside her wet pussy. As it brushed against her G-spot, she squealed with delight. Then he pushed in further; when he got all the way in and poked his knob against her A-spot, she squealed higher and louder. After a few more pokes, he made her orgasm. Her come was all over the sheets.
"I must remember...to put...old towels...on the bed," he grunted as he continued fucking her.
"Unh!"
"I'll clean it...up after," she sighed.
"Ah!"
"No, I'll help.
Oh!
"
"You're so...sweet, Father.
Ah!
" She came a second time.
"Call me...Don.
Unh!
"
He's sweet,
she thought;
but boring, especially as a non-priest. If this is what monogamy is like, I'll die within a month of marriage to him. I could be faithful only to Daddy; I must get rid of Carrie as soon as possible.
"I'm almost there," he moaned.
"Pull it out," she sighed.
"Oh!"
He pulled his cock out of her pussy, and she sat up, holding his cock in her hand. She jerked him off, pointing his cock at her belly.
"Sperm shouldn't...be wasted," he panted.
"Does God get quite irate?" she asked.
"Don't blaspheme."
"I thought you weren't Catholic anymore."
He sprayed his come all over her belly: some in her navel, some dripping down onto her black pubic hair. They then lay on their backs on the bed, and cuddled.
"It's the little things we do to hurt each other," Don said. "We must be careful of them."
Oh, God, not the sermon again,
she thought;
I hope he's psychically sensing how bored I am with his gabbing.
He was sensing her boredom, but he refused to stop. "What a gifted preacher. If we don't correct the little sins, they'll grow into big ones." Remembering how her lust had grown into incest, he added, "Isn't that true, Camilla?"
"Of course, Father, I mean, Don," she said, staring at the dresser but carefully keeping her mind blank.
"We can reverse the bad, too, though, can't we?" he said, hoping she would reverse her apathy as well as her insatiability. "And I can help you turn your wild ways around, and make an honest woman of you, putting those dark chapters of your life behind you."
And be boring like you?
she thought;
no way.
"I'm tired," he said, weary of trying unsuccessfully to inspire her to do good. "I'm taking a nap." He'd try to edify her later.
She waited for him to fall fully asleep. When he did, she got out of bed and stood in front of his dresser drawer.
Good,
she thought;
Now I can think freely.
She opened the drawer and stared at the gun and box of bullets, never touching them. She used Nigrovum to 'feel' the shape, mass, texture, and every component of the pistol and bullets. Her photographic memory would be her future reference.
