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Stream Of Oil On Your Rosebud…🌶️🌶️
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2026-01-16 03:59:34
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The Reverend And His Plaything Falling For Him…
Mia.“We’ll see you around more often?” Jesus. I had to scoff at those words the second they left her mouth, aimed right at Thorne like some flirty little invitation. I was pissed. Furious, really.What the hell was that? What was wrong with my mother? She wasn’t feeling well—she still looked pale and shaky—and she should’ve been acting like it. Resting. Recovering. Not playing detective, not trying to act like she was some saintly mother suddenly concerned with virtue. She wasn’t. She never had been.And I knew exactly what she was doing. Trying to psychologically manipulate Thorne, poke around until something slipped out. Did she actually think that would work? That he’d just confess to whatever twisted thing she was imagining? I knew she wouldn’t let this go. I could see it in her eyes. And just like I’d feared, the second the taxi dropped us off in front of the house, she started.“Oh my God, Mia, did you see the way he looked at you?” Mom said the moment we stepped ins
The Reverend And His Plaything My Only Sin…
Thorne. I stood under the bright light of the big chandelier hanging above the altar, the sacrament cradled in my hands. The body of Christ. The blood of Christ. Holy things meant to be held by pure hands—hands that had washed the feet of the faithful like Jesus once did, hands that had offered blessings and absolution. Hands that had done far more than that.My only sin was Mia.She was my ruin, my judgment, my end—and if there was any justice left in this world, it would end with her.Right now, I watched her from the altar as she sat in the first row, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap like the perfect parishioner. Every time I lifted the host, every time I spoke the words of consecration, my eyes found her. Her grandma sat beside her, oblivious, smiling proudly every time our gazes crossed. I smiled back at the older woman—warm, priestly, practiced—while my mind drowned in everything unholy.Mia wasn’t helping. Not at all. It felt like every move she made was a dare, e
The Reverend And His Plaything The People Of The Town…
Mia. People were staring. I could feel their eyes prickling my skin from across the restaurant, but I didn’t give a damn. Let them wonder. Let them gossip. For whatever reason, it felt like the best thing in the world that Thorne had suggested we come out here, pretending we were just talking about my mental health, nothing more. A perfectly innocent lunch between a priest and a parishioner’s granddaughter. Nothing scandalous. Nothing sinful.I took a taxi home instead of letting Thorne drive me. He’d suggested it himself—said it would reduce suspicion, keep things from looking too close. I’d agreed because he was right, even though every part of me had wanted to climb into his car, press against him in the front seat, and let him touch me again while the windows fogged up.When I walked through the door, Grandma was already coming out of the kitchen, setting the table for dinner. The smell of her cooking hit me first, comforting and familiar, but her face changed the second
The Reverend And His Plaything Oh Fùck! Yes!🌶️🌶️🌶️
Thorne. She tried to reach her fingers toward her pussy, desperate to touch herself, to chase more of that aching pleasure. But how could I let her take what belonged to me? That cunt was mine to fill, mine to ruin. I caught her wrist before she could make contact, pinning it to the tile with a firm grip.“No, Mia. Don’t touch yourself. Grab my cock with both hands and stroke it… suck it. It’s your reward.”Her eyes flared with need, pupils blown wide as she obeyed instantly, wrapping her fingers around my length—both hands, stroking slow and firm from base to tip. The heat of her palms, the slight tremble in her grip, had me groaning low in my throat. She leaned in, lips parting, and took the head into her mouth again, tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down, taking me deeper.“Oh my God,” I moaned, hips jerking forward on instinct as she sucked harder, cheeks hollowing with every pull. Spit bubbled at the corners of her lips, dripping onto her bare chest, rolling i
The Reverend And His Plaything Do You Like My Cock…🌶️🌶️🌶️
Thorne. There’s everything wrong with this. Everything wrong with fucking Mia in a restaurant restroom where we came to have lunch and pretend we were discussing her mental health—her emotional struggles, the kind of quiet pain a priest is supposed to help carry. Instead, I’d rather have her bent over the sink, her ass up and thighs trembling while I pounded into her like a man possessed.“Oh my God,” I moaned as she obeyed me like the little lamb she is, the little slut she’s become for me. She dropped to her knees without a second’s hesitation, the tile biting into her skin, but she didn’t flinch—only looked up at me with those wide, hungry eyes that always stripped me raw.“Oh my whore,” I praised, grazing her chin with the tips of my fingers, brushing her lips roughly even though I knew I was smearing that perfect red lipstick across her mouth. I sucked my thumb clean with a wet pop, tasting the waxy sweetness mixed with the faint salt of her skin, and the sight of her—kn
The Reverend And His Plaything Spread Your Legs…🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️
Thorne. “Take off your panties,” I repeated more slowly, letting each word roll out low and deliberate, the command hanging between us like smoke.“And if I don’t?” she asked, her tone dripping with challenge, thick with sex, daring me to show exactly how far I’d unravel just to watch her spread those legs.“You’d ruin me,” I said, the admission scraping out rough and low. “I’d be ruined, Mia. I wouldn’t think straight. I couldn’t sit here watching you eat another bite or take another sip of that wine—the same color as your fucking lips. I’m already a mess. You did this to me.”Her heel dragged harder against the front of my trousers, slow circles that pressed right where I ached most. It had been hard the moment she walked in, but now it was concrete—throbbing, straining, leaking against the fabric, begging for relief I couldn’t give it here.To the rest of the small, upscale restaurant in San Malerio, I was still Father Thorne—their priest—sharing a quiet lunch with a parishione
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