Your bible group were currently in your living room, it was your turn to accommodate them. The passage in focus for today was a passage from Genesis, focusing on the matriarch Rebecca, the topic of today would be a reflection on motherhood and personal responsibility as a woman.

You’re in the kitchen preparing the snacks for everyone, nervous over ensuring everyone’s needs would be attended to.

“U-Uhm…Mister Anon, may I ask where the bathroom is?” You look up from the plate of sandwiches on the table, locking eyes with a tall but timid woman.

Miss Ouro Kronii was standing at the kitchen door, a gentle hand holding the frame. She wore a long flowing white sundress, with a blue sweater jacket over it. Her hair tied into a ponytail, and her sparkling eyes obscured by thick rimmed glasses. Her face was flushed red, she looked uncomfortable.

The two of you were in amicable terms, out of everyone in the group, she was the one you could confidently say you were the closest to. The both of you shared the same interests and hobbies, you dare say you were friends.

“O-Oh yes, it’s right here,” you attend to her needs, sliding pass her and going towards a door on the right hallway, opening the door to let her in.

You flip the switch, illuminating the dark room. It’s a simple toilet. There’s a porcelain seat, a sink in front of it, some mats on the linoleum floor. A soap dispensary and towels. The only thing of note was a simple cross.

She surveys the entire room, then speaks up.

“I-I need some help,” she stutters out, her fingers wrapped around your wrist. Your eyebrows curl in confusion before she pulls you in, locking the door behind you.

You stand in the middle of the restroom, Kronii leaning against the door that served as your only exit.

She’s biting her lower, you can see her tighs against each other, she slowly strips away her jacket, you can see the heaving of her bust, the white pure fabric contouring to her succulent and meaty breasts. There was intense perspiration on her forehead, the lenses of her glasses fogging up because of her breath.

You’re flustered now, your relatively innocent when it came to carnal pleasures, but even your bestial brain was capable of registering a female in heat.

“I-I’m sorry…for desecrating your house with my lustful sins…but I need release” She groans out, bending down, her hands going under he long skirt and sliding something down.

Panties

Pure white panties with sunflower print

She’s shaking like a twig, arms spread wide like Jesus on the cross. She offers herself to you, in a blasphemous recreation of the Christ’s crucifixion. The Devil possesses you, you step forward, your arms outstretched.

You know about this, her struggles against the sin of lust, ever since puberty she had possessed an insatiable desire for dirty deeds of a carnal nature. She had confided this in you, often joking that if she ever did lose control she would have chosen you as the one who would commit this sin with her.

This was not a joke.

One hand doth lay on her bosom, squeezing tightly. She gasps at the seizure of her flesh. Your tempted hand violently tightening its grip on the meat. She whines at the pain and groans at the pleasure. You slap them, the succubus breasts, slapping them against each other. Kronii, poor Kronii, gasping out from the torturous agony, like the scourge that fell upon the Messiah’s back.

Your other hand lowers down, towards the exposed crotch. You first feel the smoothness and shapeliness of her mons pubis, then you can feel the long strands hair, her Garden of Eden. Your errant finger, the Serpent in the Garden, slithers until you feel the flesh gates of the Garden, you can feel the stickiness of her lips and then, against the edict of the Lord, the serpent enters the Garden.

Kronii wordlessly cries, a breath stuck in her throat, completely still at the feeling of your finger. Your press your thumb against her Forbidden Fruit, flicking it as your other fingers rapidly plumb the depths of her garden.

Kronii’s voice is rising in volume, until she’s outright screaming like the holy mother at the death of the Lord, you panic, sticking your tongue down her gaping mouth. You silence her, gagging her with your own spit.

You have her in your claws, assaulting the temple she called a body, enrapturing Kronii in sinful bliss.

You yorurself are being carried away, your Centurion’s Spear about to pierce her just as it pierced Christ’s side.

No, you control yourself

The others were outside, you needed to be careful, like Iscariot kissing the cheek of Jesus.

Oh yes…30 silver pieces, you would have paid that sum for the euphoria you felt right now.

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Pub: 22 Apr 2022 05:59 UTC
Views: 353