I lay sprawled across the cold marble altar, my body trembling uncontrollably. Thick, warm rivers of Father Elias’s c*m poured slowly from my gaping, ruined p***y, running down my thighs and dripping onto the sacred stone beneath me. My legs were spread wide, my dress bunched uselessly around my waist, and my heavy breasts rose and fell with every shaky breath. My skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, spit, and c*m. I had never felt so filthy, so used, and so completely satisfied in my entire life.
Father Elias stood over me, his cassock hanging open, his massive c**k still hard and glistening with our mixed juices. He looked down at me with dark, possessive hunger.
“Get up, my sinful child,” he ordered, his voice rough. “We are not finished yet. There is still more of God’s house for yo
