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The next morning, morning prayer felt like pure torture.
We knelt side by side in the small chapel. Father Maxwell’s voice was steady as he led the prayers, but his hand was under my skirt the entire time.
While he recited the words with perfect calmness, two thick fingers were buried deep inside my p***y, slowly pumping in and out. I had to bite my lip hard to keep from moaning out loud.
“Our Father who art in heaven…” he said smoothly.
At the same time, his fingers curled inside me, stroking my G-spot while his thumb rubbed slow circles on my swollen c**t.
I was dripping down his hand, thighs trembling as I tried to keep my breathing normal.
“Hallowed be thy name…”
He pushed a third finger inside me, stretching me open while continuing the prayer like nothing was happenin
