Thighs and Prayers

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Despite years of fervent prayer and wise sermons, I’d only ever found god between my Sister in Christ’s thighs.

Reverend Mother Veilentine’s whimpers were more melodious than any hymn.

The way she grabbed the back of my habit as I rocked the flat of my tongue up and down across her swollen clit felt as inspired as the prophetic visions I’d heard taught from countless pulpits.

I pushed her black robes further up her round hips. My senses tingled as I knew she was allowing me to see a part of her she showed no one else. “No under garments?” I asked huskily. “I really have been a good girl, haven’t I?”

“Did I say you could speak?” Veilentine propped up on her palms. I’d found that the subtle dip in the hard wooden pews of the sanctuary tilted her pelvis at just the right angle for me to devour her. “Make me come before Father Benedict catches us. He often prays at sunrise.”

I’d only been a Sister at The Altar Church of Lost Souls for two months. In that time, our prioress, Veilentine, had been kind enough to take me under her wing… and under her ass… and inside her pussy…

Reverend Mother tugged me closer by my habit, gripping the hair underneath. “I said, hurry up and make me come, Sister Jezebella. You’ll be punished for your gluttonous staring later.”

The corner of my lips rose as I gripped her hips, admiring the wetness pooled on the pew beneath her flesh. “But you never let me have a long enough look at you.”

With a thrust of her hips, she forced herself back into my mouth. “That’s enough teasing,” she said, breathlessly. “Yes, oh, god. Just like that.”

This is how we nuns used god’s name here at The Altar Church of Lost Souls. It was my favorite prayer, a delicious offering that I swirled in my mouth and sucked at greedily.

Another answered prayer.