Prayer From Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

"Oh God, please forgive me!" ***

“Fill this sinful cunt while you pray for forgiveness.” “Do it, please, come in me, Father, ” He slammed deep, one last thrust, buried to the root, and came. Hot, thick pulses flooding her, spilling out around his shaft as he ground in slow circles. She shattered again, walls fluttering, milking him dry, screaming his name like a prayer gone wrong. They stayed locked together, panting, sweat-slick, his forehead pressed to hers. He kissed her, slow now, almost tender. Pulled out carefully. Come trickled down her thighs, dripping onto the marble.

Good, but might be bad once the Romanovs discover I’m in their territory. If I had called, they wouldn't have let me. I needed to ease this weight from my chest. So fuck it, I’ll be careful. “Holy Mary, Mother of God. Pray for us sinners. Now and at the hour of our death,” The father says, voice dry as dust. He crosses himself, and everyone chants: “Amen.”

' My words muffled, sloppy as saliva dripped down my chin. Two thrusts, deeper now, his cock hitting the back of my throat, making me gag softly but not pull away. 'Pray for us sinners...' I choked out between strokes, eyes watering, the rosary dangling from my free hand. Three thrusts, and he held me there, buried to the hilt, my nose pressed against his groin. 'Now and at the hour of our death. Amen.' The word escaped in a garbled moan, my throat working around him as he finally pulled back, strings of spit connecting us.

Sensi and Gio were both in trouble on their own because of her, and who knew whether or not they were still alive? As tears of exasperation began to flow from her eyes onto her cheeks, she remembered Gio's promise to save her and held onto that for strength even though it seemed highly unlikely. Then, surprisingly, the Lord's Prayer began to bang in her head, and she began to say it: “Our Father…" Who art in heaven… Hallowed be thy name…” More tears flowed down her cheeks at this point because she knew she was in dire need of help from somewhere, anywhere. “Thy Kingdom come… Thy will be done on earth, as it is in Heaven… Give us this day our daily bread… And forgive us our trespasses, as we

i passed by him and grab the prayer mat from the side table and placed it and started reciting my prayer that i missed from last night. i totally forgot about him and focus on my prayer . when my prayer finished i raise my hand for prayer . i heared a click when i opened my eyes xavier was sitting right infront of me on the floor having his phone in his hand . he took my picture . i didn,t said anything i was getting up from prayer mat when he held my hand . "why you pray to him after what happened to you ?" i was shocked wih his question . "because allah is my creater and i need allah everytime no matter what happens "

Nothing came. The silence stretched, thick and terrible. The congregation shifted again, unease rippling outward. Malachor’s presence pressed closer still, his attention a weight she could barely bear. Tears pricked her eyes, not from shame but from the overwhelming need surging through her. Her faith cracked under the onslaught, the ritual words blurring into nonsense as her core pulsed, on the edge of release. She pressed her forehead to the stone, whispering hoarsely, "Forgive me... please..." The plea hung ambiguous, directed at the altar but meant for the shadow devouring her from within. The licking intensified, tongue fucking her hole now, stretching her with ethereal thrusts while su

Ignoring the conversations. Then the woman went on her knees as the Reverend father began praying in a silent tune, his hands placed on the uninterested kid. She noticed he began cleaning off tear drops from his eyes, as quickly as he could to avoid being spotted, blinking as fast as he could. Soon the prayer session ended as the woman rose to her feet and the two made the sign of the crucifix. As the woman began her Chronicles of appreciation, the boy did something. He tried licking his cheek. Old habits die hard.

Ara had gone ice cold with fear. She clenched her fists painfully tight and started chanting the prayer without a break. Her senses concentrated on the words that she was uttering. "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil........................." she had no idea for how long she continued to recite it but when she stopped, she didn't feel the in

Tell God how much you love being finger-fucked by your priest. 'Our Father, who art in heaven,' I began, voice breaking as his fingers thrust harder, the wet squelch filling the air. Slap—another to my other breast, the pain blooming into heat that arrowed straight to my core. 'Hallowed be Thy name.' He added a third finger, scissoring them to widen me, his palm grinding against my clit with each drive. 'Thy kingdom come,' I moaned, hips bucking to meet him. He slapped my thigh again, harder, the red mark rising like a brand. 'Your kingdom's right here, slut—wrapped around my fingers. Keep praying while I make this pussy gush.'