Angela

The sleazy whoremaster and just taken her in the back yard, with his cock and with a hose. Worse, she had let him see that she was enjoying it. Now she might never get a moment's peace...

As the Master was doing up his trousers, he was telling her again to get started on her assignment. There was money in it for her and a woman waited upstairs with some items she would need.

Rarely did she get the chance for one of the more high-class assignments. As the seamstress upstairs was fitting her into a lovely dress that would suit an upper class lady, Angela reflected on her mission:

The new priest in town was to be "introduced" to pleasures of the flesh. Somebody high up with deep pockets was paying good money to have blackmail material on the new father, who was young, new, and (apparently) innocent. Somehow unwilling to play the little games most clergy did. And it was very important to somebody (Angela doubted even her master knew) that Father Patrick learn to play.

Angela picked up a silk bag and a black stone rosary to complete her ensemble. Her skirts were heavy and rustled against her legs, making her aware of the length of them, all the way down to her dainty lady's shoes. Her bodice was laced tightly, making her breasts spill out over the decolletage. Her nipples still ached from earlier that morning, and she was anxious to shed the tight constrictive clothing. As she set out from the tavern, a few whistles and catcalls followed her. Her figure was shapely, curves accentuated by the dress. Her auburn hair was thick and unruly, but just now it was pinned up in coiled braids under a lace cap. She widened her hazel eyes and pouted out her lips in an attempt to bring her features into what she assumed was an alluringly innocent yet pious expression. Then she grimaced. She would actually have to pay attention to her role this time; a little more finesse was required than for her usual clientele of sailors, dockworkers, and ruffians. She paused by the church doors to take several breaths. She was a young high-born lady, recently come to town to stay with her uncle. She missed her daily tutoring and devotional sessions from back home and desired to continue them with Father Patrick, of whom she'd heard good report. Again schooling her features into a demure expression, she pushed open the doors to the church.

As she looked around her, she didn't have to pretend wonder and amazement. Never having been inside a cathedral before, even a small one such as this, she had never seen the beauty of the glass or the sheer height of the ceilings. She walked forward tentatively, looking about her. Then she heard footsteps. A young man was approaching her, an open smile on his face. His blond hair was curly and his expression full of welcome. She felt a pang at how young he was; surely this must be Father Patrick.

"Welcome, good lady. I am Father Patrick. How may I be of service?"

Angela realized she had been meeting his eyes for several moments now in curiosity and suddenly remembered herself. She cast her eyes down as would more befit a gentle-woman, and spoke softly, "Then you are he that I seek. I was told to ask for you..."

As she explained her "story," she took a moment to regard him. With darting glances, she noted how his glance took in her face, occasionally straying down to her bosom. His face was flushed a little, but she could see that he liked the idea of helping her with lessons and devotions.

He gave a little cough. "I would be glad to assist. Anything to make you feel more at home here," he said, smiling sincerely.

She allowed herself to smile shyly back at him. "Ummm, would it be too much to ask to begin today?" She let a hopeful note drift into her voice as she timidly met his gaze again.

"Ahh, well, I...I don't see why not. I have to read Scripture this evening, but I have a few hours until then...Would you like to come back to one of the classrooms with me?"

"Oh thank you, Father Patrick!" She allowed a deep breath to inflate her lungs, pushing her breasts even further out of the straining fabric. She could see his eyes looking quickly away as he turned to lead her from the central nave. As he led her into one of the back classrooms, she began removing her lace cap. His eyes widened a bit as her hair fell in waves about her shoulders. She smiled apologetically, explaining "the pins hurt my head so and I find it difficult to concentrate on my prayers."

He nodded, looking a little dazed, and motioned for her to sit down on the bench. As he opened his Bible and started to speak, Angela interrupted:

"Father, one reason I was so anxious to begin right away is that there is a passage that last night I was reading and did not understand. I was hoping you might be able to help me."

His voice was confident and condescending as he told her he would be glad to help if she would point out the passage in question.

She took out a small bible out of her silk bag and opened it to the page she had marked before leaving the tavern. "It's in Matthew," she said. "I have been told, sir, that someday I must marry and that seems to be what this passage speaks about, but there were a few words I did not understand..."

Father Patrick, looking down at the open page, looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well," he began.

"It's this word -- adultery."

"Miss, uh -- what did you say your family name was again?"

"Oh, please just call me Angela, Father."

"Well, Angela, ahhh, adultery is...that is...well, when a husband or a wife has...er... relations...with another person.

"Relations?"

"Umm, when they," by now Father Patrick was gesturing helplessly and his face had gone quite red. He was also having trouble keeping his eyes on the pages and not on her breasts. Angela smiled to herself.

"What about this word, here: F-For-Fornication?"

Father Patrick swallowed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Fornication?"

"Yes, how did you say it?"

He cleared his throat again. "Ahh -- Fornication. It means when a man and a woman go to bed together." He got it all out in a rush.

Still she pretended to misunderstand. "You mean they just sleep in the same bed? I did that with my sisters all the time!" she said with wide eyes.

"Umm, well, it's not just sleeping...I ....well, I gather that you -- uh, they -- take all their clothes off and then...

"Oh! What then, Father?"

"Well, I..." here he was blushing furiously. Angela could tell he had his knees pressed tightly together. "The fact is, being, well, a priest, I don't know exactly what goes on..." he trailed off as he noticed her hand fanning her face, subtly leading his gaze between her mouth and the creamy mounds below.

"But surely, Father, they teach you what everything in here means! Are you saying that Fornication is when two people get," she leaned in close, her breath teasing his ear, "naked?"

He shivered visibly. "Yes. I believe that's what it is, yes."

"Is that all?" she inquired with wide eyes, delicately biting one fingernail.

His gaze was riveted on her mouth. As she let her tongue dart out to lick her lips, he wet his mouth by reflex.

"Well, not exactly. Then they lie down...and...Really, Miss Angela this is highly irregular!" he exclaimed, standing abruptly. Then, just as abruptly, he sat back down. But not before Angela noticed the substantial bulge in the front of his robes.

"Well," she interrupted quickly, "what about this word: e-u-n-u-ch?"

Father Patrick plainly didn't know what to do. He wanted very much to leave, but standing made his erection visible. Certainly he had had erections before, even wet dreams where he woke with his cock bursting in his robe and wet stains on his blanket in the morning. But to speak of this...and with a lady...who was just now looking dewy and ripe and soft and...he shut his eyes quickly. Well, he'd just have to explain as quickly as possible and hope she'd leave.

"A -- eunuch -- is a man without a, well, without...withoutapenis." He said very quickly.

"Without a what?" She gasped.

"A...A penis. It's the male member and a man uses it to penetrate a woman. That's fornication. A man without a penis is a eunuch." He opened his eyes to find her toying with the lacings at the front of her dress. They looked as if they were coming loose, and he thought he could see a bit of darker pink just at the center of one mound, peeking out from the fabric...

Suddenly, her eyes widened and her mouth opened. "Oh! Do you mean -- a cock?"

Father Patrick felt his own convulse as her pretty lips shaped the word.

"I overheard my sister talking once about how her husband put his cock up in her and it hurt a lot the first time but then she..."

Angela leaned in close again. Father Patrick could smell her skin as he watched her bosom rise and fall. "...she said that he did it again -- put his cock in -- and then she liked it." By now their faces were inches apart. She licked her lips again and said in a low voice, "so, do you have one? A...penis?"

By now his erection was so uncomfortable that he felt he would burst at any moment. Never before had he wanted anything so much as he wanted to take her down on the floor, push her skirts up, and 'put his cock in.' All he could do was nod.

"So," she continued, "you're not a eunuch?" He shook his head. "And is this it?" He had hardly sensed any movement, but her hand gently enclosed the huge bulge in his robe and squeezed ever so slightly. His head fell back as a groan escaped his lips. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was wrong, but his body had control of his mind -- and she had control of his body.

"Your cock," she asked again softly. "It seems so big...like it has a life of it's own!" She had begun to trace its outline through the rough cloth. Somehow, as she leaned further forward, one breast slipped entirely free. As Father Patrick opened his eyes unsteadily, he was found staring at the ruby nipple, hanging on her white breast like fruit. Slowly, as if in a dream, he leaned forward and gently took it in his mouth.

"Oh!" Angela breathed delicately. Her hand tightened involuntarily on his root, and she felt his mouth go slack against her breast. "Father Patrick...I...ohhh, please don't stop!" She pleaded in a small voice and, tentatively, he started to suckle. With small motions, he moved his face against her bosom, his mouth gently sucking. She felt his tongue dart out to lick her nipple. Without removing her hand from the straining in his robe, she deftly freed the other breast. It fell against his face, and he slowly moved his mouth over to take the left nipple in his mouth. As he looked up dazedly, he caught a glimpse of her face, her lips full and red, her tongue poking out between and her eyes soft and unfocused. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

Angela knew the time had come to move to the final stage of her plan. Still acting the innocent, she started to rock gently against the bench. She could feel her cunt, plump and juicy, slide against the hard wooden bench beneath her. One hand inched her skirt up, her knees straddling the bench. She leaned backward, taking her hand from Father Patrick's bulging crotch and touching one breast. She moaned as her fingers crept to her nipple and her hand worked her skirt even further up. "Ohhh, Father, what have you done to me? I'm burning up! Your mouth -- here, and there's an ache between my legs..."

Father Patrick could only stare. Lying straddled across the bench was a lovely woman, her dark auburn hair free and cascading down across the stones of the floor, face flushed with passion, breasts free, wet and red and juicy as she plucked at one nipple helplessly. He noticed her skirt was up past her knees, and her other hand...he gulped again. He could smell...a musky, female scent he had never smelled before. It was bewitching him. His erection, painful before, was twitching with every brush of the cloth.

"Please Father Patrick, show...show me your cock," Angela moaned, undulating against the bench. Father Patrick, frozen between duty and desire, stood helplessly as the maiden before him sat up and reached out. His cock stood stiff as a rod as she again pressed her hand to the prodigious bulge. As she worked her hand under his robe, brushing his thigh, to softly caress his rampant erection, he moaned and moved ever so slightly closer.

Angela knew she had won, but considered that there was no sense in wasting an opportunity to enjoy herself. She moved his robe up. And up. Soon, his lanky legs, hairy and trembling, were revealed. She could see his furry balls, already tight against the base of his cock. And his cock...Thick and long, with veins standing out -- it looked so painful, she thought, and such a pity that an elegant tool such as this was in disuse ...she couldn't help but reach her tongue out to gently caress the tip of his penis. This elicited another moan. "Miss...No, we really shouldn't be... unhhhh."

She delicately closed her mouth around the head. Cupping his balls with her hand, she said softly, "Oh, Father. I never knew bible lessons could be so ...exciting. Your cock is just so big and these..." she trailed off as she filled her mouth with his cock, cupping his testicles.

"My...my b-balls..." he sighed, "lick them....please, Oh Uhn -- Angela, yes please suck..."

"What do you want Father?"

"Please suck...suck my...COCK! -- Ahhhhhhhhhh!"

And with a groan torn from his guts, Father Patrick spurted streams of hot cum into her mouth, unable to suppress his climax any longer.