KIRA ݃

You didn’t remember how you ended up in this position.

Fully naked with your legs stacked on the shoulders of the priest’s own son as his tongue lapped at your glistening cunt.

Your fingers dug into the soft sheets of your bed, your lips wobbling as you tried so hard to keep quiet. His mouth was just too good—strangely good for a man who went around claiming he was celibate and devoted to God only. 

Your head was lying back against the pillows, staring up at your ceiling but ever so often drifting down to his face between the crevice of your thighs. He kept his gaze on you, intimidating and terrorizing. He knew what he did to you, and to not take full advantage of that would be a waste.

Ever since your last encounter with James Cook in the back of that church where he had you bent over some dirty table, defiling you with his fingers, you couldn’t stop thinking about how good it felt to disobey everything you were ever taught. Bless your dear parents, they really tried their hardest to keep you away from sin, but how could they have predicted the son of a priest would be the one to lead you away from a life of chastity?

So when you told them about wanting to invite him over for a proposed ‘bible study’, they were absolutely elated to hear that you wanted to further your relationship with the Lord. You never showed much interest in religion anyways, so they assumed it was James who had influenced you. Even when you told them that you were going to take him into your room, they didn’t bat a single eye. He was a pious man who could do no wrong, so what was there to fear when they had already instilled so much trust in him?

His fingers dug into the top of your thighs as he buried his mouth deeper, tongue bullying into your sensitive clit. His hair was messy from how hard you were gripping it before he forced your hand out of his hand, claiming he would stop right now if you didn’t keep still.

The idea of inviting him over came late one night as you were sending each other lewd images back and forth through text message. He would tell you what types of photos to take and what position he wanted you in, as if he was creating his own personal jerk off material. He especially liked photos of you in your nightgown, skirt lifted around your breasts and panties pulled to the side. Cook would send you photos of his cock in return, along with a description of how it probably wouldn’t fit inside you. It got you so pent up that without thinking, you asked him to come over and make it fit. He was at your doorstep the next day, heavy bible under his arm and his hard cock shoved up into his waistband.

“J-James—ough—s’too m-much!” you cried quietly, squeezing your thighs around his face.

He had been in between your legs for what felt like hours, when in reality it had only been 20 minutes and he’d already made you cum twice. He started out slow, giving you little kitten licks as a way to warm you up, but now he was being more aggressive, roughly lapping at your overstimulated clit.

You could feel yourself approaching a third orgasm, and your eyes kept drifting to the locked door of your room, praying internally that your parents wouldn’t come up looking for you two. Though, Cook was a master of manipulation. He could justify anything using his convincing tone, and it became something you admired about him.

Ignoring you, he pushed his tongue harder against you, making you buck your hips into him. 

“Oh fuck!” 

That good feeling was swirling back into that part of your body, and without warning, you were pushed over the edge. You pulled a pillow over your face as your body shook from the painfully pleasurable orgasm. Cook held onto your legs as he rode the wave, continuing to eat you out through the aftershocks, then finally pulling away.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked down at the puffiness of your cunt, the way your clit still twitched without any stimulation. He could’ve went for hours, but he wasn’t dumb. He knew your parents were home, and that this was meant to be a ‘bible study’.

When you first took him up to your room, he followed very closely behind you. Close enough that he got a whiff of the perfume you put on, the one that he once told you at church was the smell of angels. He sat down on your freshly made bed while you gently closed and locked the door, then you walked over to stand in front of him, hands behind your back nervously.

“Like a lamb to the slaughta’” he grins, leaning back on his elbows.

“Don’t tease me” you mumbled in a pout.

“I’ll do whateva’ I like wiv’ ya.”

You say nothing, just staring down at the carpet you were standing upon.

Cook shifts off the bed to stand in front of you, his stature looming over yours like a dark cloud.

“I don’t ‘fink you know how long I’ve waited for this. For you to fully let me in” he tilts his head down to look at you.

“You make it hard not to” you reply quietly.

“Yeah? You can’t stand it, can ya?”

You shake your head no.

He leans closer to your ear. “Poor girl. Tryin’ so hard to be good. What’d you reckon your parents ‘fink if they knew their daughta’ was so desperate for the cock of a priests’ son?” 

His words make you shudder, but you couldn’t deny the pool of slick growing between your legs. 

“W-Well…what w-would they think if—” you try to make a comeback to put the blame on him but he stops you.

“Ah ah, don’t try’n fight it now. You know what you want, and I know what I want, so…” he grabs your wrist gently, placing your hand over top his bulge. “Why don’t we help each ova’ out?”

He sits back on his knees, watching you slowly move the pillow off your face. He was so handsome just sitting there, fully dressed, mouth covered in your cum. It made you angry just from thinking about how much you would let him do to you.

“Such a sweet pussy” he says lowly, as if drunk off the taste of you.

You whine and clench your legs shut in embarrassment. He opens them with his hands, putting your core back on display for him.

“‘Can’t hide now, babe. I’ve already seen every inch of ya.”

His words embarrass you further, but he was right. You had sent him so many nudes now that there really was no point in hiding.

“N-Need more, James” you sniffle, insinuating you needed him inside you, which was the whole reason you invited him over in the first place.

“I could listen to you beg for me cock foreva’” Cook smirks to himself quietly as he unbuckles his belt. 

You whine, pawing his thigh with the tips of your toes.

“Patience is a virtue, love” he says, and you roll your eyes at his audacity to speak on virtue.

He pulls his hardened cock out, and begins to slowly pump it through his fist in front of you with a sadistic smile adorned on his face. Naturally, you try to sit up so you could get closer to him, but he stops you when his other hand grabs your throat tightly and pushes you back down roughly. Cook stands on his knees, hovering over you. You breathing becomes shallow as you stare up at him, and as if he could smell your fear, he leans down to press a delicate kiss onto your lips. Then he pulled back, removing his hand from your throat and smirking at your dumbfounded expression.

“First kiss?” he teased.

You nodded slowly.

Cook just laughed. “Now ya really belong to me.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom. You watch as he rips it open and slides the thin, lubed material over his shaft. He takes both of your legs and pushes the backs of your thighs against his abdomen, encouraging you to rest your legs against his shoulders. Beneath the freshly pressed clothing and suits he wore, no one ever would’ve suspected just how muscular Cook was. You watched the way the muscles of his biceps bulged out when he would pick your legs up, or the way his abs were still visible despite the terrible lighting in his dick pics. Every little thought about him added to the abundance of slick between your legs.

“Will it hurt?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut when you feel his tip bump against your clit.

“Yeah. ‘Might even bleed from it.”

“That feels sacrificial.”

“‘Cause it is.”

He looks down, head nestled between your calves as he slowly pushes in. The stretch of him burned, instantly feeling full of something foreign. You remembered how it felt to have his fingers inside you, nudging that sensitive spot over and over again. Cook groaned loudly when he bottomed out. He didn’t even care to be silent anymore. As he began to thrust, he laid more of his weight onto you, stretching out your hamstrings. The position was quite uncomfortable, but for some reason you trusted Cook. Besides, the angle he was hitting was beginning to feel close to heavenly.

“C-Christ, you’re fuckin’ tight. So t-tight for me” he groans, picking up the pace.

The sound of his hips snapping against your ass filled the room that once knew silence and prayers mumbled under the breath. You bit your lip just to cover your own sounds.

“O-Oh yes—right there, f-feels s’good right t-there, James!” you whimper quietly, completely engulfed in pleasure.

He was thrusting as fast as he could without triggering the creaking of your bed, and somewhere along the way, his cross necklace slipped out from under his shirt. It was quality gold, with an inscription on the back of his favourite verse.

‘Put to death the sinful, earthly things lurking within you. Colossians 3:5.’

It hung down in front of your face, swinging back and forth with every push of your bodies. You focused on it. You wondered why sex was considered such a deviance when it felt so fucking good.

Cook noticed his necklace had fallen, but he didn’t tuck it back in. Instead, he let you watch it, hypnotizing you while he pounded himself into your guts.

“Such a dirty g-girl. ‘Parents don’t even k-know they—agh f-fuck—raised a little cockslut.” Cook mumbles into your ear, nailing the degrading names into you as if he truly meant them.

You wanted to hit him. Tell him this was all his doing. But you didn’t, he was making you feel too good to talk back.

“Open up” he demands, and you do as he says.

He spits a fat glob of saliva onto your tongue. He growls at you to swallow it.

“So fuckin’ nasty” he laughs sadistically as he watches you swallow his spit. 

It should have been humiliating, because that’s what he was trying to do, but it just turned you on more. Cook could tell, and he loved that you were just as messed up as he was.

The pain from how thick he was slowly washed away, and was replaced by a euphoric sensation that crawled its way up from your core to the entirety of your body. Your breasts bounced in tandem with his thrusts, and Cook could barely keep his eyes off you. Every punch against your cervix had you whimpering, eyes rolling back and mouth lolling open. You kept moaning the words ‘oh my God’, and Cook found it hard to not use that to his advantage.

“Y-Yeah, I’m your f-fuckin’ God. ‘Keep c-clenchin’ me like that, a-and I promise you’ll go to heaven” he hisses through his teeth as you squeezed around him, too fucked out to even register his words.

Cook’s pace was beginning to falter, a tell-tale sign that his orgasm was coming, and he didn’t know how quiet he could stay when it happened. He could tell you were close just by the furrow in your brows, and the way you dragged out your moans. He lowered himself onto you, positioning himself in a plank-like position with his forearms beside your head and knees pushed further down the bed. Now, he was driving his cock into you deeper than he had been before, and you swore you could see stars in your vision.

“J-James! Fu-fuck! Gonna—mmphmm—c-cum so h-harddd” you gasped when his tip hit that spongey spot from a different angle, accelerating your orgasm.

“Gonna c-cum for ya God? Huh? Yeah, cum on God’s f-fuckin’ cock.”

You’re pushed over the edge almost immediately, squeezing your sweaty palm against your mouth as your orgasm ran through you, a mind numbing pleasure you wished would never end. One more clench around his cock had Cook groaning into the crook of your neck, his hips seizing with every half thrust he could deliver. He felt the warmth of his own seed as he filled his condom to the brim. Cook collapsed on top of you, with the melody of light whimpering and breathing permeating the room as you both rode out your releases.

You wrapped your clammy arms around his back, almost in a hug. Cook chuckled into your neck. This was all he wanted—needed—since that first day your family began attending his father’s church. You looked so delicate that day, clad in your pristine white Sunday dress and little black dress shoes. He wasn’t going to let you get away from him, not with how you looked at him across the pew, just begging to be bent over the bench and taken by something worse than a demon. And here you were, shaking and fluttering around him like his prayers had been answered.

As you watched Cook walk down the steps of your porch, the heavy and unopened bible still under his arm, your blissfully unaware parents came out from the living room.

“That was quite a long bible study. How was it?” your mother asked, pressing a gentle hand against the back of your shoulder as Cook’s figure disappeared down the road.

You smiled, still watching. 

“I’ve never felt closer to God.”