tagMatureRachel & Father David

Rachel & Father David


Rachel volunteered for a priest - a man of God. His name was Father David and he was a magnificent man, whose gigantic compassion for others was only equaled by the size of his cock. He was her mentor, and she was his Mary Magdalene.

Many months before when Rachel was only 18, she had met the Father late one night, while he was preparing for his Easter speech. She stayed late because there was much preparation to do for the service and Rachel was a brilliant writer who could assist Father David with his grammar and metaphors.

Rachel was alive with excitement knowing that she was playing a role in something so spiritual.

Unthinkingly, as she would do with people she loved, the woman with exquisite green eyes, and sculptured face placed her hand on the Father's shoulder as a sign of friendship. "Thank you Father for this chance.”

The Father didn't budge. Rachel turned red like the blood of Christ. Silence filled the church.

The Father spoke. "My dear, I have never had sex, and I am curious about it."

Rachel was stoned. Her mind bounced around from bad to good thought. Her heart felt guilty, good, excited. Her thighs were soaked with the moistness God had incorporated into her physical.

Without whispering a syllable, her lyth 18-year-old body manipulated forwarded to rub against the body of the Father. He was young too. He was 55.

If there was a noise in the church, it was of two sexually alive people. Rachel and the Father. She was prepared to go to hell, to give this starving man a moment of heaven.

Her experienced hands, coiffed with blood red nails and fingers long as the branches on an olive tree - slowly messaged the Father’s lap. She looked into his eyes and could see tears. She saw that this lovely, wonderful man's mouth was smiling and it wasn't very long before his body welcomed her touch.

Rachel pulled up her skirt. She pulled up the Father's gown. Like a child and a woman, she sat down on the father's lap, extending her legs on both sides of his body. Her pussy was about to touch his cock.

Her panties were about to rub against his underwear. His cock was growing. And it was growing. Rachel realized that Father David had carried with him this appendage for many years and had only used it for the most mundane of bodily functions.

"Father, I would like to kiss you,” she said.

"My dear,” replied David, "please do not talk. It wakes me up to what confuses me.

"Yes Fathers,” replied the young woman who may have been the reincarnation of the prostitute who met Jesus along the road.

With that, Rachel kissed the Father. No more words would be spoken. Her tongue reached inside the reticent man's mouth and played with his tongue, until it began to play back with hers. She caressed his jet-black hair and moved ever so slowly, methodically, sensuously on his lap - finding his cock with her wetness and welcoming it to the world of sexuality.

He reached to hold her and instinctively slid his fatherly, hands down to her buttocks. Her breath shortened. Her nipples grew. She was having sex with a priest...one she respected dearly.

Confusion mixed with an uncontrollable desire to make Father David happy. Rachel's doubts of celibacy for the priesthood fought desperately with her fundamental believe in the Father as a child of God - a sacrificial man, a celibate man.

Her hand reached down between his legs and found the Father's cock. It seemed to be enormous, a tower of Babylon, reaching for her. She loved to excite through the cloth of his underwear. She ran her fingernails over its lovely head while the Father breathed shallower, while his hold on her ass became tighter.

His lips found her breasts and his hands moved up with uncontrollable speed and ripped away her blouse. He struggled valiantly with her bra and felt fortunate that it was held closed with Velcro. (He thought to himself that he could never, figure out the snap. He wasn't good at technical things and whenever the electric candles would cutout he'd have to call in an electrician),

For the first time in his life he was eye-to-eye with a nipple. He greeted it. He lapped at it. He bit it with passion. The Father - a handsome man, 6 foot, 200 lbs, handsomeness reflecting his Eastern European roots - explored Rachel's perky 36c breasts with the diligence, and wonderment of an apostle learning from his teacher.

Rachel was rising to another level of sexuality.

She was no longer of human feelings and thoughts. Her mind was elsewhere. Her sexuality had become ethereal - it was raised to the levels of the 40 black eyed-maidens in heaven that the Muslims had tried to convince her of. She was a vessel to be used by the cloth to come closer to God.

She reached inside for Father David's cock and found it, and touched it. It was alive with fifty-five years of curiosity and neediness. The young church volunteer yanked it out from under its underwear and looked down at it. It was absolutely angelic. It was circumcised and it was hard. And it was 9 inches, perhaps 10.

They gasped together as she began to message the Father's cock with strokes that were hard and soft to his touch. His head swung back and his eyes were nowhere to be found. He was in ecstasy. He had found the door to let himself in and nothing was going to stop him. For many years he had considered this - at least once he would tell himself, will I experience the sexual pleasures of this earth. At least once will I partake of the fruits of the Garden of Eden? I am a man.

Rachel was alive with excitement and grasped the Father's balls. He reeled back. Her long strokes began to go faster and faster while she squeezed and played with the Father's balls.

Faster and faster. She reached the base of his penis and teasingly stopped. His movement begged her to continue. She continued.

Father David's cock was responding to the pleasure of Rachel's soft palm working its way up and down, twisting in circles around and around, and up and down once again.

Her movements were wild and his cock grew and grew. The church was silent, except for their moanings and if someone were to walk in they would hear the sounds of sex bouncing off the walls and stain glass windows.

"Oh God,” Father David moaned.

"Oh dear God, I am loving this. Oh dear Jesus,” he shouted. "Forgive me.”

Rachel crawled off the Father and knelt between his legs. Her hands continued to jerk his cock and she watched it respond...her eyes were inches away from its crown and she could now smell its loveliness and see its majestic stance.

Father and faster, harder and harder, she yanked and squeezed his balls again and again. Her long jet-black hair swung from side to side as she tugged and playfully masturbated the Father. Her lips were parted ever so slightly and her nipples, sitting so proudly on her perfectly shaped breasts extended a message of electric sexuality to the scene.

Rachel could feel it. She knew it was coming. He knew it too. He had felt it stir him from sleep. Nocturnal emission.

"Cum for me Father," she whispered. "Let me see it. Let me taste it Father.

Hearing this prayer, the Father left his consciousness and walked through a path of absolutely ecstasy, one that could have only been created by God.

His muscles pulled and deep within, where prayer and faith had only lived, a heavenly feeling covered him from his toes to his scalp.

"Fuck me Rachel. Make me cum,” David yelled.

And with that, an eruption from within occurred...an explosion which brought with it lights and images of angels and heaven and peace and fun, exploded.

Father David was cumming. His sperm was shooting all over Rachel's hands and glob after glob of his white milky stuff spirted into the world.

After many moments, Father David opened his eyes. There, between his legs, Rachel knelt. He looked down at her and could see that the young girl, who had joined the choir when she was only seven, was covered in his cum.

Her eyes, her hair, her mouth was awash with his white fluid that had laid quietly for many decades. He leaned down and kissed her lips.

Father David tasted his cum and he began to cry for he wasn't sure if this was the end of his life on earth and in heaven, as he had known it.

He sobbed because he didn't know if he would ever feel the abandonment he had felt here today, in front of the Virgin Mother. Was he going to hell, or was this an invitation to heaven?

Rachel held him and whispered that she understood. After many moments, they repaired their fallen clothing and kissed. Father David licked his cum from her eyes, cheeks and chin. Rachel was clean, pure.

Easter arrived and Father David's speech was brilliant. He had never spoken so clearly, so knowingly, so insightfully about the creation of the earth and God's words that "in my image" will each man/woman be created.

Life was somehow different. The churchgoers knew it, but couldn't put their finger on it. Father David had changed. He seemed to be alive one more time and more imbued with wisdom and understanding of the here and now. Father David seemed to have gone through a metamorphosis. It was wonderful for the church. They loved it.

And Rachel thought that one day she would become a nun. Father David agreed, this was a good life plan.

So she did. She became a nun. Stay tuned.

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