Chapter 3
Elena’s POV.
I dropped to my knees so fast my robe bunched around my thighs, the thick wooden kiosk still hiding us from the last few stragglers in the back pews, and there it was—Pastor Damien’s massive c**k right in my face, heavy and thick and shining with my c*m from how hard I had just creamed all over it.
The head was fat and flushed dark, a thick bead of precum already leaking from the slit and running down the veiny shaft, and the whole thing twitched like it was alive, pulsing with how turned on he was from finger-f*****g me and then pounding my cunt while I sang hymns.
My mouth watered so much I had to swallow, and the smell hit me hard—musky and salty and mixed with the faint scent of my own p***y juices still coating him, plus the old wood and candle wax of the
