Margaret, a 28-year-old blonde with small boobs, attended church every Sunday. She loved the smell of incense and the beautiful stained-glass windows. Her long hair cascaded down her naked shoulders as she knelt to pray. She wore a fishnet bodystocking that teased the curves of her body without revealing too much.
One day, Father Thomas, a middle-aged man with piercing blue eyes, noticed her during confession. He couldn’t help but admire her beauty and the way she surrendered herself to the church. He felt an urge he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Over the next few weeks, Father Thomas found excuses to talk to Margaret after the service. He learned about her love for art and how she dreamed of traveling the world. Margaret was drawn to his kindness and the wisdom he carried.
One evening, after a long conversation about religion and art, Father Thomas found himself alone with Margaret in the church. The air was thick with tension as their eyes met. He took a step closer, and Margaret didn’t move.
He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she shivered. His fingers traced her jawline, and she closed her eyes, parting her lips slightly. He leaned in and kissed her, and she responded, her hands reaching for his waist.
Their kiss grew more passionate as their bodies pressed against each other. Margaret’s fingers explored the contours of his back, and Father Thomas’ hands wandered down to her hips. He lifted her onto the altar, and she wrapped her legs around him.
Father Thomas broke their kiss and trailed his lips down Margaret’s neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses. He reached behind her and unfastened her fishnet bodystocking, exposing her breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, and Margaret moaned, her back arching off the altar.
He moved down further, kissing her stomach and inner thighs. He spread her legs wider, and Margaret whimpered, her hips bucking. Father Thomas smiled and licked her pussy, and she cried out, her hands gripping the edge of the altar.
He teased her clit with his tongue, and Margaret’s moans filled the church. He slid a finger inside her, and she gasped, her muscles clenching around him. He added another finger, and Margaret’s moans grew louder, her hips moving in rhythm with his fingers.
Father Thomas stood up and unbuckled his belt, his cock straining against his boxers. Margaret watched, her breath hitching as he pulled out his cock. He rubbed the head against her wet pussy, and she whimpered, her hips moving towards him.
He thrust inside her, and she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. He started slow, building up a steady rhythm. Margaret met his thrusts, her hips moving in sync with his.
Father Thomas picked up the pace, and Margaret’s moans grew louder. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her. He reached down and rubbed her clit, and Margaret’s back arched off the altar.
“Yes, harder,” she begged, her nails digging into his back. Father Thomas complied, thrusting harder and faster. Margaret’s moans filled the church, and she screamed his name as she came.
Father Thomas groaned as he felt her muscles clenching around him, and he came soon after. He collapsed on top of her, and they lay there, panting and covered in sweat.
They got dressed in silence, and Father Thomas walked Margaret to the door. He kissed her goodbye, and she left, her steps lighter than before.
From that day on, Margaret and Father Thomas met in secret, exploring each other’s bodies and finding solace in each other’s arms. The church became their sanctuary, and their love became their religion.
