My diary of dirty secrets
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"'The relics,' he says, Eyes wide,
I nod, reaching for the chalice and cross, laying them on his stomach. I stroke his cock fast at them. His hips buck and he cums hard.
Thick ropes shoot out, he spits, the silver chalice splashing.
white streaks on the gold cross. It pools on the cloth.
More spurts hit my hand-hot, sticky-dripping down the sides. I drain him dry, from base to tip, watching as the last drops fall upon the holy items.