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The Cathedral
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The Cathedral I'm lucky. I get to spend part of each year in a small village in southern France. It’s a tiny place really – one of those villages with a graying population – the patisserie long-since shuttered. But I can get up every morning, get on my bike, do 100-150 km, come home, make some lunch, work through the afternoon and early eve, make some dinner, drink some good wine, go to bed, get up and do it all over again. The house is quite rustic. The 2nd floor is spare but beautiful. It has dry stone walls 5 centuries old, the peaked roof is about 20 feet above the floor but a series of 6 full log rafters runs from wall to wall at about 8 feet. Here’s what I imagine if you were there with me. I envision looping a rope over one of the rafters, knotting it to leather cuffs wrapped around your wrists, telling you to get on your knees, pulling your arms taut above your head, and tying the rope off. You’re wearing a beautiful, tight corset, a pair of decadent black heels, and a simple delicate gold chain around your neck. I stroke my cock as I walk around you, stopping to place my hand on the back of your neck, stroke your throat, slap your beautiful tits. Then I stand in front of you, wrap my hands in your gorgeous hair and push my hard cock into your mouth. I want it deep, and start fucking your mouth. Pushing my stiff fucking cock deeper into you, feeling your throat, my tight balls pressed against your chin. Hearing you gasp for breath as I fill you with it. It feels good in your mouth. But I want more. I need more. I untie the rope and pull you up. You rise to your feet. I bend you over at the waist, your arms reaching out on front of you and tie the rope off again. You can rest your weight on the rope, grasp it, swing with it. I walk behind you, eyes on your gorgeous tight ass. You feel my hand spank down on it. Gently at first, slowly getting harder. You’re so focused on my hand lashing your cheeks that you barely feel my cock at the entrance of your wet fucking cunt. Just the head. But when I push it in, you gasp and rock back against me, taking me all into that tight, wet, dark, hole. “Oh fuck yes, that’s my good little bitch”, you hear me murmur. As I start to ride you, pull your hips back into me, slide my thumb up your ass and feel my cock through your ass, pumping in and out. It’s driving me wild. I need you, I need to feel my fucking cock deep in you. You feel it, the head pushing into you. My hands wrapped around the back of your neck now. “Fuck yes, you little slut, feel that fucking cock, feel it in your tight fucking cunt and cum for me. Now. Occasionally I have meetings in a nearby city. Sometimes, I’ll stop in the cathedral after my meetings. Is it sacrilegious to admit that my cock stirs as I enter? Do I care? It’s stirring because I imagine you here strolling the streets with me, rubbing your tits against me whenever you have the chance, pressing your ass against my groin in a shop, flipping your short skirt to show me that hot thong that barely covers your pussy and leaves your ass bare. But then we visit the cathedral. It's near the end of the day and it's empty. The side entrances have been closed and locked. I lock the small entrance door after we enter. And we are alone. I stare into your eyes. You realize that you may be in a church but that it will not be a sanctuary for you. One hand finds the back of your hair as you feel my other land hard on your ass. With one hand wrapped in your hair, I walk you along the nave to the front of the cathedral, straight to the altar. I turn you to face me and undo your blouse, one button at a time, exposing your lace bra. The clasp pops in my hand and your tits spill free, your nipples aching. I twist them in my fingers and your deep gasp echoes through the hall. "Put your hands on that alter." You turn around and lay your hands on the altar in front of you. Above you the last of the days light comes in through the stained glass, laying a host of colour on your naked back. You feel me unzip the back of your summer skirt and it drops to the floor. Your cheeks separated by that thin piece of cloth that cleaves your ass. There you stand. A supplicant, bent at the waist waiting for her penance. And then you feel it. A strap of leather, landing heavily on your back, dragging over your ass. softly at first and then beginning to focus on your ass, bringing the blood to the surface of your skin, Harder, over and over. "Feel that. This is what you get for being such a defiant teasing bitch." The trouble, of course, is that this is what you want. Your cunt gives it away. My eyes cast down, the crotch of your thong soaked by the wetness dripping from your pussy. Your thighs glistening. My hand reaches forward and pulls the strap out of your ass. My fingers dip into you and emerge soaked. I drop the strap and, reaching around you, slide my fingers into your mouth. As my fingers penetrate your mouth, you feel the head of my stiff cock splitting the lips of your soaked cunt. Hungry, pushing into you, filling you in one thrust. My balls tight against you, my groin grinding against your ass. My cock can go no further. My hands grasp your hips, my knees bend and I thrust, lifting you from the floor, over and over again, you hear me, my animal moans. A hand reaches under you and finds your hard engorged throbbing clit, rubbing it as my cock pounds you. Your moans fill the air and your eyes find the crucifix as your orgasm explodes into you. The throbbing of your cunt is too much. My cock feels like steel inside of you and my cum erupts, filling you, spilling back out of you, over my balls, down your thighs. You collapse on the altar. But once again you feel my hand in your hair, pulling you back. I lay back on the altar. "We're not done yet. Clean me with your mouth. Show me how hungry you are. And if you do a good job, I might just return the favour." |
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