Wendy's Conquests

*******

Unsurprisingly, the next morning, Kevin rose early and was out of the house before she'd made breakfast. He returned late that evening claiming to have eaten while he was in town.

Wendy sensed it was time to back off and let the young man grow more comfortable in her presence. She resumed using the counter in the brightly lit kitchen for their evening meals, and even toned down her attire, not dressing so provocatively, favouring slacks instead of skirts, and substituting baggy tee-shirts for her usual low-cut blouses. Conversely, her sense of horniness and arousal grew, the more she tried to conceal her assets from her houseguest.

A week later, after Rory had returned for a couple of days, during which he displayed no interest in fucking her before departing again, Wendy decided it was time to go back on the offensive with the young priest.

"Kevin, can you come here and help me with something," she called from her bedroom, knowing that her young houseguest was about to pass on the landing.

"What is it, Mrs. Desmond?" he asked, stepping inside her open door. "I was just going to..." was all he managed to say before trailing off.

Wendy, who had her back to him, was standing in front of her full-length mirror, dressed as a nun. Or more accurately, she was dressed in a cheap, sexy nun costume, including a black veil lined with a white coif. She'd bought it many years before for a costume party and had almost forgotten about it, as it hung at the very back of the rail in her wardrobe.

"I've been invited to a hen's party," lied Wendy casually over her shoulder, trying to give the impression she was more interested in how the costume fit, rather than the young man who had just entered her bedroom. Little did he know that she had spent the afternoon taking up the helm on her sewing machine, making the gown even shorter than it already was. "It's fancy dress. What do you think of this? Is it too much?"

Kevin struggled to find words to articulate an answer. What she was wearing was not only scandalous in the amount of flesh it revealed, but it was also almost certainly blasphemous to boot. In the reflection in the mirror, he could see that it was cut very low at the front, those big breasts of hers only partially obscured by the oversized plastic crucifix she hung from her neck. The gown itself clung to the curves of her body and only just about covered her round backside, so he had an unobstructed view of her garters and black, fishnet stockings that ran down to the very tall, high-heeled shoes she was wearing.

She didn't look like any nun he'd ever seen before, and he'd seen his fair share. She was dressed like a harlot.

"Well, Kevin, do you think it's too much?" The strumpet was insisting on an answer.

"Perhaps," he managed to say.

"I thought so. It's way too young for an old bird like me. How did I ever think I'd get away with it?"

"It's not that," said Kevin, feeling compelled to spare her feelings. "It looks good on you. It's just that it's very... Very revealing."

"Oh, you think it looks good on me?" Wendy deliberately seized on the only thing he had ever said about her appearance. "You don't find it too sacrilegious?"

"No," lied Kevin. Suppressing the word 'WHORE' that seemed to be flashing in his brain, as the blood surged through another part of his body, causing him to close over his jacket, as insurance against potential embarrassment. "The Church isn't as stuffy as people think, not these days."

"That's good to hear," said Wendy, swaying slowly from side to side as she considered her appearance in the mirror. "But I think you're right, it's too revealing for a woman of my age. I'd never get away with it. The younger girls will be sniggering behind my back, saying I'm mutton come dress as lamb."

"I'm sure your friends will say no such thing," placated Kevin, taking a step backwards and preparing to leave the room.

"Damn it!" said Wendy. She'd raised her hand over her shoulder and taken hold of the zipper. "They make these costumes from very cheap material. This useless thing's stuck. Kevin, before you go, could you give me a hand? It's so hard to reach around and I think the slider has gotten stuck in the zipper's teeth."

Kevin's every instinct screamed at him to leave the room. He didn't dare look down at his lap because he could already feel his erection straining against the material of his underpants and trousers. Somehow, through no fault of his own, as God was his witness, he'd found himself in the Whore of Babylon's lair. Yet, what she was asking wasn't unreasonable, and this made his compliance seem inescapable.

He walked up behind her, trying to maintain some distance, then stretched out his arms and took hold of the zipper's slider. Somehow the teeth had gotten out of sync, but it should have been easy to fix, just pull the slider up again, then draw it down, slowly and smoothly. Except that his hands were sweaty and shaking, making the grip between his thumb and forefinger somewhat tenuous. To make matters worse, his breathing had become short and laboured, so he'd no other option, but to hold his breath. Mere seconds stretched out into an eternity, as his fingers continued to fumble with the zipper.

"Come closer," said Wendy, smiling at him through the mirror's reflection. "You'll need to get a good grip on it. Don't be afraid of being too rough. If it tears, I won't mind. I've completely changed my mind about wearing it, in any case."

Then Wendy played her trump card. Gently, she backed into him, her arse inevitably coming into contact with his bulging groin.

To Kevin, the sensation of his hardness being caressed by the softness of Wendy's buttocks felt way too good. In fact, it was devilishly good. Any resolution he had to resist her wickedness quickly ebbed away, and he could no longer withstand the temptation to look down. He saw the straining bulge in his trousers nestle perfectly into the valley of her curved arse cheeks. From nowhere his hips took it upon themselves to press forwards and, despite the intervening clothing, a soft, warm, pressure cushioned his cock and ignited a whole series of nerve endings that radiated throughout his body.

Wendy acted as if she hadn't noticed, but this only made the compulsion to press himself into her insurmountable. He pushed his groin into her soft, pliable warmth again, then again. The pleasure these motions gave him were so intense, it seemed his engorged cock was only a hair-trigger from exploding. He was convinced it would only take a couple more of these soft grinds to make him blow his load.

Was it really possible the harlot didn't notice? Could he really come in his pants as he pressed into her, and she'd be none the wiser?

But it soon became apparent that Babylon's whore had taken notice. Without uttering a word, her hand came around, and she closed her fingers tightly on the outline of his erection and gave it a squeeze. If there was still a rational part of him that wanted to stop, who thought it still wasn't too late to avoid an even more grievous sin, it was blasted out of existence by the flood of sensations emanating from his groin, their intensity increased tenfold merely by the woman's touch.

Suddenly, his whole being at that very moment was focused entirely on his prick. He had no other purpose in life, no other calling, but to obey its screaming imperative for release. As the harlot massaged his cock, his hands left the errant zipper and took hold of each of her big, fleshy breasts, through the thin material of the gown. He gave an involuntary low, soft moan when he discovered that her nipples were already hard and erect.

Wendy sighed, "Oh, yes. That's so good. Squeeze those big, fucking tits. All this time you've been looking at them, wanting to know how they'd feel in your hands. Well, now you do. Squash them together, feel just how good they really are."

A fervid, ungodly thought occurred to Kevin. Something he suspected when he'd first entered the bedroom and saw the harlot standing there in her profane outfit. Releasing one of her breasts, he dropped his hand down to her arse, took a brief moment to caress one of her cheeks, then delved into the heat emanating from between her legs, and confirmed for himself, the whore wasn't wearing any panties. Her warm arousal fluids glistened on his fingers, and he couldn't resist the impulse to bring them to his lips. The taste was acidic, but good.

Wendy's squeezing of his cock through the light material of his trousers became even more insistent. Her wanton behaviour injected his actions with an accelerated sense of urgency, which was only just short of panic. He placed both hands on her shoulders, and bent her forwards, so she had to lean on the dressing table for support. Then he forced up the helm of her black gown. The flimsy garment was so tightly fitting around her arse, it took some effort. The sound of it tearing only added to his lustful zeal.

Without him needing to ask, the painted Mother of Whores opened her legs and braced herself for his entry, and he so badly wanted to shove his raging cock deep inside her. Impale her on his manhood, make her suffer for her sinfulness, punish her wanton ways. However, by the time he dropped his trousers to his ankles and freed his engorged cock, he knew he was already in serious danger of an imminent, and premature overload.

In his fevered state, Kevin attempted to guide his erection between her gartered thighs, homing in on the opening to her wet cunt. Had he taken more care, the glans may not have brushed against her naked flesh causing him to breach instantly, squirting his jism like an errant firehose between her legs. "Oh... Oh... Oh, God!" he moaned, as his pulsating cock delivered his overwhelming release.

Kevin had so much jism built up inside, it seemed like it would never stop ejecting from his penis. His seminal fluid splashed on everything in its path, including the carpet, the side of the dressing table, and of course Wendy's gartered thighs. He finally let go of her breast, barely aware that in his euphoria he'd squeezed on the flesh so tightly it made her squeal.

As he backed away a moment of silence engulfed them. Kevin anticipated the flood of guilt and shame that was certain to result from his craven actions. His remorse was bad enough whenever he gave into temptation and abused himself. What would it be like now that he had engaged in what was only just short of fornication with a painted slut?

However, the inner torments arising from his sin would have to wait, because the harlot wasn't finished with him just yet.

Wendy was disappointed that the boy had ejaculated so prematurely, but she reasoned it was only to be expected given his lack of experience. She could already read from his body language that now he was spent, all he wanted to do was gather up his trousers and slink off quietly, like a dog who's pissed on the couch and is confronted by its owner. It was time to act. Head him off at the pass.

Turning round, Wendy hoisted herself to sit up on the dressing table. She said, "Kevin, I hope you're not thinking of running off and leaving me... unfulfilled."

"I... I'm sorry," replied the priest. "I should never have..."

Wendy interrupted whatever else he might have been about to say by raising one leg up on the surface of the dressing table. The combination of the gown's shortness, and the height of her heels, put her recently shaved pussy clearly on show. Using her forefinger, she mopped up some jism that was congealing on her fishnet stockings and brought it to her lips. "I've always preferred the taste of a young man's seed."

Kevin was transfixed. He knew he should leave and get away from this wicked vixen immediately for the sake of his immortal soul, but his legs were rooted to the spot. He may have chosen a life of celibacy, decided on a spiritual calling, but at heart he was an ordinary man and, like most others, the sight of a woman's naked pussy, placed on display solely for his benefit, was just too beguiling to resist and surpassed any rational considerations.

"Come here," commanded Wendy, although speaking softly; a siren's call from the rocks to lure a spellbound sailor to his ruin.

Slowly, he stepped towards her, his now limp cock hanging between his legs, dangling a whitish grey dripple of semen. It was like an out of body experience, as if he were witnessing it happening to someone else. Wendy placed her hand on his neck and drew him close enough to kiss. He put up no resistance as her tongue easily parted his lips and ventured inside his passive mouth. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he could taste the salty residue of his own seminal fluids.

Their embrace was slow, soft, almost affectionate, until Wendy suddenly seized a tight hold of Kevin's hair and pulled his head away from hers. He looked at her questioningly, about to ask if something was wrong, when she forced him downwards, onto his knees, until he was eye-level with the glistening lips of her moist pussy. Then she pushed his face into her waiting womanhood.

Kevin's immediate reaction was to grab hold of her thighs, rending a tear in one of the fishnet stockings, while he tried to push himself backwards, but her grip on his head was surprisingly strong and very determined. She ground his face into her widening labia, his mouth tasting her arousal, as his nose inhaled her scent. Despite her hold on him, he did manage to pull away slightly, but only for a moment, before she pushed him back into place. What he did next was a weird alchemy of instinct and accident. He extended his tongue as far as possible, so it slid between her sodden inner lips and entered her vaginal opening, before gliding upwards, along the valley of her cunt, until it reached the engorged nub of her clitoris.

"Oh, that's it!" she moaned, her free hand going to her breast and rolling the hardened nipple between her forefinger and thumb. "There. Right there. That's it, Kevin. Come on, more. Keep going, just like that."

Kevin felt the grip on his hair tighten even more, it caused him to involuntarily dig his fingers into the flesh of her thighs, but she no longer sought to guide his head, allowing him to vary how long he left his tongue in her opening, and how often his tongue slithered over her clit. He'd never done anything like this before, and it surprised him how much he welcomed the taste of the harlot's snatch.

For her part, Wendy was pleasantly surprised that the young man was proving to be so adept at pussy eating. So good in fact, that after only a few moments, she let go of his head altogether, instead choosing to drape both her legs over his shoulders in a manner that allowed her to prod his back rhythmically with her heels, driving the pace of his cunt licking.

It wasn't long before she gave a brief shudder, then crossed her legs at the ankle while still behind his back, thereby cramming his face into her pussy, as she came. "Oh! Oh! Oh, fuck!" she groaned, "Oh... Holy fuck!"

Eventually, when her orgasm subsided, Wendy uncrossed her legs and eased her hold on the young priest. Her sense of sexual release was warm and profound. It had been way too long since Rory had touched her. Masturbation, even when enhanced by her range of little toys, was fine, but it only went so far, and there was nothing that matched the postcoital sense of vitality that took hold of her after being sexually engaged with another person, and been satisfied by their hands, tongue, or their cock. It was the main reason she could never stay faithful in a relationship, even her marriage, once the physical side of things had begun to wane.

Now that he had served his purpose and was unfettered by her legs, she expected Kevin to leave the room. However, he was still standing before her, his trousers gathered around his ankles, but his eyes fixed on her cunt. He was massaging his resurgent cock, and it really was a wonderful looking organ. Smooth, but quite large and standing up as straight as an arrow.

Wendy gave a broad smile. She realised their encounter wasn't over just yet.

Kevin's rationale for what happened next, for what he did next, was paper thin, if not outright self-serving and illogical. He reasoned that he had already sinned. He'd been weak and succumbed to the temptation of this harlot's flesh. The evidence of his expended vital fluids were still to be seen on the whorish garments around her thighs, and his mouth was full of the acidic taste and more subtle flavours of her honeypot. God had already seen and heard everything. There would have to be a reckoning; a confession followed by a suitable and weighty penance. The only question that remained was would it really worsen his sin by all that much if he sunk his swollen prick into that gaping cunt of hers?

The whore's eyes invited him to come closer and, while his mind wrestled with his conscience, his body looked to fulfil needs of its own and he advanced towards her.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked.

The young priest blinked as if he was coming out of a trance-like state and looked at her questioningly.

"Kevin, do you want to fuck me?" she repeated.

He'd have preferred to remain silent because it seemed that replying out loud would only compound his sin. Yet, it was clear the harlot was insistent on an answer, even though the situation was obvious. "Yes," he replied simply.

"Well then, ask me properly," she said in her most teasing voice.

"Wendy, can I... Can I fuck you?"

Moving slowly and deliberately, Wendy removed the black veil from her head, and shook out her blonde hair. At this stage, the garment was only hanging on because of a couple of hairclips. She threw it over to land on the bed. Then she took hold of the helm of the gown and pulled it up over her head, letting her large breasts loose. Some ten years before, they had finally begun to concede to gravity, so she'd gone under the knife of the best cosmetic surgeon in the country. It had taken almost a year for them to settle down and look completely natural, but she'd always thought the money was well spent. Now, she presented them to her young houseguest proudly, knowing they defied both gravity and her age.

"Please," said Kevin, almost whimpering in his desperation. He knew that at that moment he might never have the opportunity to have a cunt wrapped around his cock ever again.

"Come closer," she said coquettishly.

When he did, Wendy took hold of his manhood and brought the throbbing, purple head of his dick to the still moist entrance of her cunny. In truth, she was just as eager to have his cock buried deep within her.

Without any hesitation, Kevin pushed his erection inside her with a long, slow thrust, feeling its warmth encompass his flesh.

"Yes, that feels so good," Wendy murmured softly. "Take your time, Kevin. Fuck me slowly. Make sure not to come too quickly this time."

Kevin only stopped his cock when he was all the way inside her. He looked down at her painted harlot's face, grabbed hold of her waist, then lowered his head to suck and bite softly on one of her nipples. It was only when he began thrusting his pelvis, slowly at first, that he felt her hand brush against his abdomen, as she sought out her clitoris and began to rub on it feverishly.

Despite her advice, he couldn't resist the impulse to increase the speed of his plunges. Soon he was riding her hard, as she writhed beneath him.

Wendy's free hand reached out blindly to grab the edge of the dressing table for support, and she knocked some cosmetics along with the contents of a jewellery box onto the floor. The old dressing table was rattling and shaking beneath her. With a clearer mind she might have been concerned it would collapse, but just then she was too consumed by the pounding of the young man's torso into her opened legs.