With one hand reaching to grip his shoulder she lowered herself, sinking inch by tight-fitting inch onto his long, thick shaft. Oh God, this man was f...cking extraordinary. It wasn’t simply the dimensions onto which she was slotting herself, it was the steel in his eyes, the fierceness that belied whatever casual expression the rest of his face was assuming. It was the enjoyment he took in her pleasure, as she filled herself up with him. The promise of what he would do with that cock, in his own. He gripped the soft pliant handle of the flogger in his fist and moved through the empty stillness toward the indistinguishable litany of sound coming from the confessional. Opening the dark mahogany stained door, Father Tom stared in at the young woman, no older that twenty, kneeling with her hands clutching her face. A mixed fragrance of jasmine and sex wafted out. Long tresses of curly dark hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, briefly reminding him of his adolescence. Her sleeveless summer. More

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