1997

There is never too much. At least not for Sofia Sinkeiwicz.

She currently crouched on the tile floor of the shower at the rectory. The widowed church manager was trying to draw another load of semen out of the wonderful hanging testicles of the attractive Father Timothy O’Hare. If she succeeded, it would be his third expulsion of the night.

How could he not succeed?

His orgasm was ordained by God.

Blessed by the Holy Spirit.

And delivered by their humble servant, the Church Whore.

She reverently held his sacred testicles, gently massaging them, her longest finger tickling his perineum. The right hand stroked and twisted his veiny shaft while her expert tongue laved him with saliva. Her lips sucked, opened, then sucked again. She knew he was close, she could feel it in the way his thighs tensed and his moans increased. Holding her head in his hands, his grip fortified as if deeper emotions could flood through his fingertips directly to her soul.

She felt it below as a wave of pleasure crashing through her; driving away doubt, exploding sin, and leaving righteous passion.

“Ohhh Gaaahhd! Yesss!” The young priest pushed to the back of this beautiful woman’s throat and exploded. It was a shock to him how much he still had stored or perhaps it was created under the guidance of her expert lovemaking. Yes, for him at least, it was now a lovemaking.

Sofia moaned herself as the pulses filled her. It wasn’t ordinary semen. To her it was a gift, a sacred essence that filled her belly and warmed her heart. She dropped her fingers off his sac and into her own pulsing vagina. Her thumb grazed her button, the butt of her hand pushed against her vulva, and she exploded. Her crouching body fell forward as her knees hit the floor, and she shook as she swallowed.

Just two hours before she had arrived at the residence and secretly stole into his rooms. She had been here before. They had fucked on this very bed. Tonight felt different. Tonight she was not going home.

After being with the bishop overnight in the guest room down the hall, she had realized that sleeping next to a man was something she missed as much as kissing and intercourse. She confessed as much to Fr. Timothy one afternoon after a session where she had orally relieved his stress. Through an unsteady voice, she was surprised he even had, he asked her if she wanted to stay the night sometime. She took time to think about it and a week later they made their plan. Friday, Fr. Jim would be out of town visiting family and Mrs. Harrington, the cook/housekeeper, had the next day off. Everything would be perfect. Her numerous orgasms so far tonight proved it had been.

After toweling herself off, she felt bashful. Sleeping with the bishop felt like a duty as well as an honor. With Timothy it felt dangerously close to more than divine, it felt personal.

As they both hung up their towels, she softly said, “I did not bring any sleepwear. I hope that’s all right.”

He smiled with a little bit of blush himself. He had no idea why as they had just had intercourse in four different positions and oral sex thrice. “Would you like an undershirt of mine?”

“How do you sleep, Father?”

“A nightshirt. But I will sleep however makes you comfortable.”

She turned and stepped into the bedroom, his eyes locked on this body he still could not believe he got to enjoy so often.

She knew he was admiring her backside, and she hoped he knew she was enjoying it. She spoke with her low, sultry tone without looking back. “I want us both to be naked. As God created us. And I think it might be more…convenient should any concerns arise in the night.”

They crawled in, and he turned out the light. She naturally turned her back and pushed herself towards him. He wrapped an arm around her and their legs entwined. She let out a soft sigh, and he shuddered a bit at the feeling of her naked body in such a peaceful state.

“It’s called spooning. Stanley loved it.”

Timothy nodded even though she could not see him and squeezed her a little bit tighter. This beautiful woman needed comfort.

Sleep came easily and restfully.

***

Sofia woke early enough to be able to slip back home undetected. There was activity at the church on Saturdays, but it did not start for at least another hour.

Father Timothy slept so soundly, the sheets exposing his very attractive upper torso. She smiled to herself, knowing she had done a good thing, helping him relieve his sexual stress. And the gift she received in kind made her feel better than she had since this whole thing had started. She had some feelings for this slightly younger man, yet she refused to compromise his vows to the church by confessing love, or a desire for permanent companionship. She rolled her eyes and smiled at the irony.

She was dressed in her clothes from the previous evening in a quick manner. She picked up her shoes and purse and quietly shut the door behind her. It was better to step down the stairs in her stockinged feet; less chance of waking him. When she reached the bottom, she let out a small yelp.

“Mrs. Harrington! What are- what is… oh no!” Sofia hung her head and looked away. She knew she was bright red and she hugged herself to stop from shaking. There was no point in denying what had happened last night. Any fool could see; her hair alone screamed, “I have been fucked.”

Although this was not the classic “walk of shame" she had heard talk of in college. There was no shame in what she was doing, but deep concern should the outside world discover it.

“Sofia…” The older woman’s voice was quiet with a touch of disbelief. “I came to grab the grocery list I had forgotten yesterday.” She raised it as if proving that was her only reason for being there.

Sofia closed her eyes tightly to dissipate her fears. No shame, she told herself. “I am so sorry you had to see me." Her eyes darted up the stairs then back to the stunned cook. "I imagine you have a million questions. May I just say that this was no coercion nor forced relationship in any way.” Her usual composure was faltering.

The older woman raised her eyebrows and let out a deep breath. She hadn’t thought of either of those things yet suddenly her mind was racing. It was obvious the church manager was there having sex, and she assumed it was with Fr. O’Hare.

“Sofia. You are safe, my dear. Yes, I have many questions, but they can wait. You’re shaking with fear and I want you to know that is unnecessary. Come into the kitchen, I’ll make some tea.” She turned and headed there, leaving Sofia no choice.

Her heart hammered and her breath was catching. This couldn’t be how it ended. It just couldn’t.

The tea was made in silence, and the sweet woman produced some banana bread and the butter dish. They sat for a few moments, Sofia trying to nibble, yet her stomach was not happy about it.

She cleared her throat. “It was my suggestion some seven months ago. I…caught Fr. Jim with a young woman, a college student. After she had left, I suggested myself as a substitute to keep them from corrupting anymore of the parish's ladies. I have performed sexual favors for the two of them ever since. I have had intercourse with them both. I cannot bear children." She retrieved her crucifix from the cleavage formed by her sexy dress and gave it a kiss. "I believe I was sent to do so by the Holy Spirit.” She sat up, facing forward. “That may seem absurd, but skeptics have been questioning divine intervention since Adam and Eve.”

The older woman raised an eyebrow, sipped her tea, and strangely enough, adjusted the way she was sitting. She had no intention of telling the woman opposite her that she was a bit aroused at this sordid tale of sin. It had been six years since she lost her Rodney, and no man had done so much as hold her hand since.

“I understand your motivation. And I understand why you think you were sent by God. But my dear, you are committing mortal sin by fornicating outside of a marriage. And they both seemed to have willingly forsaken their vows.”

“I am aware of both of those concerns, but please, Mrs. Harrington, I’m sure you know, or have speculated that this kind of thing happens all over the Catholic Church. These men have sexual needs. Even the bishop told me when we were-” She slammed her hand on her mouth. She had vowed never to reveal his involvement.

While shocked, Mrs. Harrington did not show much reaction “That night you came for dinner. I had a strange suspicion then, but I dismissed it from my mind. The thought of it is…was unfathomable."

“Yet here we are.”

At that moment, the two women heard movement upstairs and quick steps coming down. Mrs. Harrington grabbed her purse and started heading for the door. Sofia leapt up and stopped her.

“You know. There’s no way to make it unknown. I will take whatever consequence is coming to me. But please do not destroy these men’s lives.”

“I have no intention-”

Just then the young man’s voice was heard heading towards the kitchen.

“Your car is still here I see. Was there something else you needed?” He pushed open the swinging door and stood there in nothing but a pair of jockey briefs that did little to hide his masculinity. His excited grin melted into a face of shock, and he quickly jumped behind a chair to hide himself. “Dear God! Mrs. Har- this is not what it seems. We were not, I mean—Oh Lord!”

The cook and housekeeper turned away, releasing a gasp of shock. “Father! Will you please put something on?”

He looked at Sofia, who was not surprised, shocked nor fearful. In his confusion, he turned to race back upstairs.

“Wait, Father!” Sofia’s voice had control yet comfort. “She knows…”

After some ridiculously awkward attempts at explanation, the three of them were soon sitting at the same kitchen table. The priest was dressed in casual day off wear but could not make eye contact with either one of them. He ate the banana bread as if chewing could keep him from having to talk.

It was the wiser older woman who broke the tension. “I always wondered about men of the cloth. My husband had been so…randy that I could not imagine a man forsaking that part of himself. Yet with God’s help I always thought priests…Well, now I know that is probably a universal misconception. Am I right, Father?”

Fr. Timothy cleared his throat and gently shook his head. “Not all of us, but yes, many.”

Mrs. Harrington nodded her head, then looked directly at the beautiful brunette sitting across from her. She was surprised that Sofia sat with such poise and strength. She truly was prepared to take consequences with the conviction this was holy and right.

“I want to see it.” The statement coming from the woman with salt and pepper hair and striking blue eyes came as a shock to the other two at the table. “I want to - what would you call it, divine carnality? I need to see or I won’t stop speculating. If you wish my silence, you will need to accommodate my wishes.” The authority in her voice told the other two that they had no choice.

Sofia, without checking with the priest, stood and nodded her head. How was this any different than the bishop requesting she prove her skills? “Very well.” As she walked out of the kitchen and headed back for the steps, she was already unzipping.

Mrs. Harrington watched and was holding her breath. It was the sexiest thing she had seen in over a decade.

“Very well?” the priest decried. “Wait, this is-”

“Do your duty, father. You owe her your support.”

He took another sip of tea and headed upstairs like he was heading for his own execution.

Abigail Harrington sipped her own tea, took a deep breath, and followed. She could not help but wiggle a bit at the discomfort of her wet underwear in her trousers.

She paused at the priest's bedroom door. She had been in there many times cleaning and making the bed, but this was the opposite of mundane. This was primal: a long-forgotten arousal. Her short yet busty body was starting to remember what sex was like.

The two lovers were standing at the foot of the bed quietly speaking. She was already down to her very attractive lingerie. He was shirtless.

"It will be alright, Father. I think the Holy Spirit is testing us. Testing her. We have a sacred duty." With that she kissed him and he responded. She was undoing his jeans, and he was tentatively rubbing her back.

Mrs. Harrington sat upright in the armchair in the corner, her legs crossed, shoeless foot bouncing methodically.

Sofia knelt as she pulled down his jeans and briefs in one motion. Mrs. Harrington gasped and actually covered her eyes for a moment. Sofia grew concerned. "Should I stop?"

Abigail lowered her hand and stared. It was fully erect, pinkish brown and already oozing pre-cum, as her Rodney called it. She shook her head gently. She was mesmerized and quite turned on. She had to uncross as Sofia took the shaft in her hands, pulled back the foreskin, and began to suck the head into her mouth. Abigail felt a sheen of sweat cover her forehead and make her palms clammy.

Sofia paused. "I nearly forgot. As part of our ritual, I remove my brassiere and offer a prayer of thanksgiving."

"What?" the older woman breathed. She watched as the sexy woman removed her bra for the third time in the last twelve hours. Her succulent still youthfully firm breasts bounced slightly at their reveal. Her dusky pink nipples were engorged. Was it arousal, Abigail wondered, or just fear of being revealed?

Sofia lowered her head and murmured a soft prayer, made the sign of the cross, and kissed her crucifix. She looked up.

Fr. Timothy hesitated, looking to the older woman with a sense that at any moment she would begin screaming. Instead, the woman looked lust-ridden and slightly slumped.

The priest took a deep breath and went through the perverted rite that helped his lover/servant get aroused. And made him feel delightfully sinful. "For what you are about to receive-"

Sofia was not granted a chance to respond.

"-May the Lord make you truly thankful." Mrs. Harrington had finished the blessing and was fully in the moment. Her hand was in her open trousers and was massaging her hairy womanhood to a wet, sticky mess.

Seeing the older woman masturbate, Sofia laughed slightly. “Amen!" came out a bit more gleeful than she expected.

What followed was a fairly standard sex session for the Church Whore. She gave him a wonderful blowjob, wet and loud. Followed by his own oral preparation of her succulent vulva. Abigail now had her trousers at her ankles and was fully rubbing toward climax. Sofia heard her moaning and it sent her to a new place of depravity. Could her mission include helping older solitary church staff? She was the Church Whore, not the Priest Toy.

Timothy was over her, sucking her breasts and rubbing his sizable heft against her ache. She was ready. He was more so.

Sofia hesitated feeling her soul rise. She was taken by both the spirit of her Stosh, and the grace of the Lord. They told her she was meant to be more inclusive this morning. "Mrs. Harrington. Come sit by us. You need to witness our holy carnality. The Holy Spirit wishes it."

Rather than be appalled, Timothy moaned and thrust against Sofia's mons. She was the new patron saint of fornication and she was having a vision.

Rather than be appalled, Abigail rose, left her panties and trousers in a bunch with her shoes, and reverently approached the bed. Sofia patted the area right next to her. Abigail suddenly felt feverish with desire. She quickly removed her light blouse and tossed her bra to the floor. A hefty pair of D cup breasts sagged with age, fully flushed and hard-nippled. She took the other naked woman's hand and sat. This was the devil's doing, she imagined and did not care. All that mattered was this penis and its majestic purpose.

"Please," she breathed with a hoarse sound. "Mount her."

Sofia nearly orgasmed at the command and grabbed her favorite body part and pushed it into her holy of holies. She arched up and closed-eye moaned. "YES, Lord Jesus, yes!"

Fr. Timothy growled and thrust deep, the heat and wetness more urgent than any other time they had coupled. He began a hard and steady rhythm of familiar angles and positions of his pelvis. He wanted his lover to have everything she needed to do her best for their witness.

Sofia grabbed onto his biceps and curled her legs around his hips. "He is sooo blessed, Mrs. Harrington. It's so good!"

Abigail was sitting with her legs spread, leaning back. She was furiously thrumming her noisy vulva. "Call me Ab-i-gaaaill..." she moaned as she rapidly approached the edge of bliss, her voice ragged and breathy. "S-so wet and raw!"

Sofia knew her lover well enough to see he was already on his mission of expulsion. She tilted and lifted to meet him, her climax imminent. She heard a voice in her soul. "She needs you." She was unsure if it was Stosh, but not unsure of its directive. She reached over and took hold of Abigail's left breast and massaged the hard, thick nipple the size of her baby toe. That set the woman off.

"OHH GAHHD!" Abigail wailed. Her entire body contracted and her thighs locked her hand inside. Her mind was overwhelmed as her first climax with another person in six years tore her apart. It was rapturous in its power. It also went on for three distinctive waves, each with their own rising pitch of scream. She fell back onto the pillows, a sweating mess of convulsing sin and decadent bliss.

That was enough for Sofia, who shouted out to "God's Glory!" as she clenched her pussy muscles around the magna cummer. "Fuck, yes, Father! Fill me with your sacred seed!" She reached out and clutched Abigail's shaking, wet thigh.

The dirty talk always did it. Beyond any sense of duty to righteous behavior the priest's erection was locked inside her tunnel and flexed and fired. It was epically urgent, a total body orgasm. He was unable to form words. His scream was simian, ancient.

As he came back to the reality of the moment, he focused on the two well satisfied women both clutching the sheets and panting. His masculinity swelled. He had done this. Well, he and the Church Whore. He pulled out and flopped down next to her, his arm over his forehead, his body covered in sweat and sexual fluids.

Sofia gained some movement and rolled sideways finding her face close to Mrs. Harrington's slightly plump yet deliciously satisfied hips. "Are you alright, Abigail?" The name felt awkward, but she did like to follow commands.

The other woman opened her glassy eyes and smiled. "More than. That was remarkable. You are," she hesitated and looked down for a moment, "You are right to look at this as a vocation. You are very sexy."

"I am the Church Whore,” she responded matter-of-factly scooping up some of the priest’s drippings.

"Oh, no, Sofia, you mustn't think that!"

"It's alright." The younger woman laughed and slid up nearer to her new sex partner's face. "I gave myself the title. I am not ashamed." To illustrate, she licked her fingers clean as the cook and housekeeper stared.

Abigail had to admit, the moniker was naughty and delightful. She had an urge. If it was the holy Spirit, great, if it was her own depravity, who gave a fuck. She grabbed Sofia's head and kissed her deeply. Sofia melted, another secret fantasy realized. God is good!

The aftermath was surprisingly simple. The three cleaned up and exchanged embraces and kisses. Fr. Timothy smiled as his housekeeper reached up and pulled him down for a wet smooch. "You and I are not done." They all laughed knowing she was right and that was fine by him.

***

The days following were loaded with smiles and winks. Mrs. Harrington created several reasons to stop by the office wing. She even took Sofia into the office manager’s private bathroom and made out with her like she was a honeymooning newlywed. The two giggled as they exited. Fr. Jim was there in the hallway, his face in shock.

"Girl talk, Father," the older woman said as she headed back to the residence. Sofia blushed and hurried back to her desk. They were fooling no one.

Fr. Jim called a staff meeting in his office that Wednesday morning in lieu of his planned session with Sofia.

"Can you lock the door, please, Mrs. Sinkewicz. It is unlikely we will be disturbed but the subject matter is delicate."

"Oh dear..." Abigail murmured. Fr. Timothy sat on the sofa. Sofia sat up straight, her notepad comically inappropriate. Fr. Jim smiled and gestured she put it away. She blushed.

"I will not insult any of you with speculation nor inquiry. You have had sex. Mrs. Harrington caught you, and you all had sex."

The three dropped jaws were priceless, and Jim Boyd had to smirk.

“How, how did-?"

He cut off his fellow priest. "I heard you and Sofia having a climactic moment yesterday. Lock the door so the sound seals better for privacy." His voice carried the slight irritation that his fellow did not know that. “You mentioned Abigail during your, uh, dirty talk." He turned to the housekeeper/cook. "Mrs. Harrington, are you alright, and have you also had intercourse with Fr. Timothy?"

She gulped and looked to the Church Whore for guidance. Sofia sat ramrod straight, her face shining with dignity. It must truly be the Holy Spirit. Abigail drew from Sofia’s poise, sat straighter and plainly said, "More than alright. I am the happiest I have been in years. And no, but I lay with the two of them and watched; it was heavenly to witness." She felt no need to share it was her request.

"Well...this complicates things." He was leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled, his brow furrowed. And his trousers tenting. Abigail was at the perfect angle to see.

"It does not have to be." The other three looked to Sofia. "What if we both help you in your needs? Share the load."

"Or loads, as it were," Timothy joked. Jim gave him a look, and he put up his hand in apology.

Fr. Jim looked to the older woman suddenly attractive in a way he had not noticed. Perhaps a renewed sex life was all she needed to be reborn. He took a moment to chastise himself for the blasphemous use of the word and then went on. "Is that even possible?"

In answer, Abigail stood, her body upright and confident, her bosom pushed forward and obviously aroused. "I would be honored to serve you and relieve your sexual needs." Without waiting for permission or blessing she came around the desk and dropped to her knees. "Let me take your essence."

She sounded so much like Sofia, he could not refuse. He was unaware that during a mutual masturbation session at her home on Monday night, Sofia had gone through her entire ritual with Abigail stressing it was a sacred act. It was not meant to recruit but the result was clear.

He turned and the newly bi-sexual mature woman took hold of the fasteners to his pants. Just like months ago when the Church Whore had her baptism, she pulled out his lovely erection. "Thank you, Father." She made the sign of the cross and took him into her mouth.

The floodgates now opened, within minutes there were two blowjobs being administered. Fr Jim nearly went off as he held her head down and allowed her to soak his scrotum with saliva.

Sofia went full out and was soon riding Timothy, her vagina spasming through two orgasms within minutes. The freedom of the group removed any last barriers of morality and she fully embraced her sexual servitude.

"Father," Abigail pleaded as she stood, and lowered her own pants and underwear. "I need to be filled."

She leaned over the desk, holding herself with one hand and she unbuttoned her top and freed her breasts.

Father Jim Boyd stared at the juicy, wet offering before him and took a long lick from clitoris to anus. Mrs. Abigail Harrington climaxed with just that simple swipe. She composed herself and spread her legs wider. She was nearly lost to his ministration as she watched the sex goddess in front of her. My Lord, she was something to behold.

She shouted to that same Lord as the priest, who was just three years younger than her, penetrated her sex. The fucking was top notch and yielded two more climaxes before she felt the cool blast of manly seed deep inside her neglected canal.

Sofia was already on her knees greedily licking up the remnants from her priest lover's climax. when she swooned at the sight of her new fellow whore being filled.

An awfully sinful idea formed in her head. The need was nearly worldwide, Fr. Timothy had said. Couldn't every rectory benefit from their own Church Whore?

TO BE CONTINUED

Next: Part five, Recruitment and Training.

Thank you for reading. If you liked it, hit the heart. If you really liked it, then go clean up and then hit the star for a favorite.

And as always, please feel free to leave a comment. I try to respond to them all.

Peace, Matt