tagFetishWinter

Winter

byfurlickle©

Father John McMurray always felt a nervous tremor run through his body when winter was approaching. It wasn't the ice wind from the Atlantic that caused this sensation. Standing in the sacristy and preparing to carry out his clerical duties, with the first chill of winter pressed to his skin, his heart always leaps at the thought of what he would soon see.

As soon as winter came, the body of the church was transformed into a soft heavenly ocean of fur, countless thick luxuriant coats of women young and old. As the priest would lead the faithful in their prayers his heart and body would ache with the delight that teased his eyes from every direction. His very conception of heaven was there before him, tantalizingly near yet far removed because of his station in life. He ached to swim naked in that ocean of fur, to feel the rub and stroke of heaven surrounding him, and it took the most violent restraint for him to carry on with his duties.

At communion time the congregation would line to receive their sacrament and the priest's hands would tremble as the fur wrapped goddesses stepped forward to take the host on their tongue. He couldn't help but soak in every detail of their soft skin enveloped in the primal paradise of mink, sable or fox. His mind was saturated with their smooth skin, fur and the inner sanctum of their body heat slowly increasing beneath the folds and layers. The briefest touch of fur on his skin would almost cause him to faint.

Winter duty was a bitter sweet suffering for the poor man but all of this was nothing in comparison to the near fatal agony he felt when Tiffany would come to make her confession. She would approach in a thick cloud of delectable mink and kneel to tell the intimate matters of her life. He would keep his responses to a minimum for fear he might betray the inner struggle he was going through.

Tiffany was a women of intuition. After a number of encounters she had no doubt the priest was in some kind of distress. She felt compassion for the man who had shown her such compassion at so many times in her life. One cold afternoon she wrapped herself in her finest fur and went to the church hoping she might find him and discover the cause of his affliction.

She found him in the pews, kneeling and intensely praying. She slid beside him and touched the back of his head. Her fur cuff trailed over his neck and he shivered. Tiffany noticed the shiver of the priest and whispered in his ear, Father are you cold. The priest turned and faced her. Tears were trailing down his eyes. I am bitterly cold and I ache to be warm. The woman opened her fur before the kneeling priest. She was naked beneath her fur and she drew the crying priest in and wrapped him to her body.

That afternoon the life of the priest was irrevocably changed. Where he had once been Tiffany's pastoral guide, now Tiffany was the one who lead with her sensory wisdom. One evening she approached him with a solemn expression.

"The time has come for you to be fully baptized into the sacred sensual mystery of life," she said. Father John was somewhat confused by her words yet he had learned to trust the way she lead him into unknown regions of experience.

"The time has come for you to be bound and lead blindly to the place of your true surrender," Tiffany continued. "You must let go of the old and make way for the new," she said as she unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and let them fall to the ground. "Stay still," she whispered as she continued to undress him.

The priest stood naked before his mistress. He didn't know what response was required so he waited and acquiesced as she tied a blindfold around his head. He then felt something descend down over his head. It slip over his head and fell around his body in the manner of a flowing vestment yet, unlikely any vestment he had worn, this garment was lined entirely with fur. He shuddered as the covering moved across his skin and caressed him with even the slightest movement.

Tiffany then drew the blinded priest forward. He knew he was seated in a car and they drove for about fifteen minutes. His body was electrified by the fur, the dark, the unknown and the silence of the woman beside him. He ached to relieve the tension of his body yet restrained himself for the sake of whatever was to come. And so his heart drummed a rhythm that was so fierce he feared death itself could easily come.

The car stopped and he was lead up stairs and into a house. He heard the strangest sound. A slowly growing chant. "Let us make the union.. of all spirit and flesh.. let us make the union.. of all spirit and flesh." His senses were inundated with the relentless caress of fur, the chant of female voices and the strong scent of incense and burning candles.

Father John was instructed to lay down and as the chant continued he felt hands pressed to his body, hands pressing the fur against him. "Let us make the union.. of all spirit and flesh." He then felt a hand directly on his member. It enticed his hard flesh through a fur lined hold in the covering. The chanting stopped and a single voice said, "I give you reverence," and with the word spoken he felt a small and simple kiss. Another voice said the same and again he felt the moist press of lips. He knew the voices and could picture them all, these fur-clad ladies of his parish, and the strange collision of the celibate world he had known and this dark mystery religion threw him into a strange ecstatic delirium. The final voice was Tiffany.

"I give you reverence," she said and her simple kiss turned to licking and sucking as the other voices took up the chant again.

Time passed and there was a new rhythm in the life of the priest and his parish. In the daylight hours all was in a proper and predictable order but in the moonlight the doors of the church were locked. A fur clad congregation gathered in the pews and waited in the candlelight.

In time the priest and priestess processed down the aisle of the church in fur gathered around their bodies and abundantly trailing on the floor. This was the hour of a nocturnal celebration and tonight a new candidate was to be presented and initiated. She was seated in the front pew, wrapped in white fur like a bride.

Tiffany the priestess turned to the congregation. "It is with pride and delight we gather in soft glory for this celebration and through our sensual gathering we transform this church. Our worship is electrified by secrecy, mystery, ecstasy and danger. In the religions of the day all has been smothered by mundaneness and all that is electrifying is deemed a temptation. But our sensitivity to the fur we wear has lead us away from mundane falsehood of the day into a sensual truth of the night. In this dark, alchemical gathering tonight we welcome you Cassandra. Now come forward in your exquisite fur and pay homage."

Cassandra moved forward and the priestess lead her to the priest who was seated. He parted the fur and presented his hard rod to the candidate who knelt and murmured her reverence then took him gently in her mouth. The priest drew her face up.

"What do you seek daughter?"

"I seek the union of spirit and flesh," she nervously recited.

The girl continued kneeling before the priest as Tiffany, the priestess, threw an abundant covering of fox fur over the alter. She then took the candidate by the hand, drew her to the alter, undressed her and helped her to lay down on the alters fur draped surface.

As the girl lay naked on the fur covered alter, her arms were stretched out cruciform, as the women began to sing and stroke, their fingers at play in their own pelts and their neighbors.

The priest undressed and went to the altar. He mounted and came down on the trembling girl who murmured at his entry. The congregation contained stroking, chanting, faces growing red with heat and urgency. The priest found pleasure in the girls soft open thighs and she shuddered at the sensation of sweat and heat and fur enveloping and penetrating her increasingly eager body.

Her mind raced at the thought of this moment in this most unexpected place. She shuddered further and let out a cry and this sound sent an electric bolt through the church. All were coming to a point of exquisite union, a fur clad ecstatic union, moans turning to cries, wet heat encouraged the vigorous movement of hands and at the centre of it all was the girl on the fur covered alter being relentlessly penetrating and crying for more.

She let out a groan of pleasure and the congregation answered in like manner. Once more the celebration had lead to a truer union than was ever known in daylight.

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