Church-going has a whole new meaning after my catholic school days. You see, I was a naughty, naughty girl, and ‘blasphemy sex’ was my middle name. The Lord may forgive, but I sure as hell don’t!
I’ve had my sinful moments right there in the house of God, riding crucifixes and moaning ‘Hail Satan!’ in the sanctity of that holy place. The thrill of doing the devil’s work in the shadows of the altar sent shivers down my spine.
But my masterpiece was corrupting the priest, that holy motherfucker. I seduced him, a young buck with a lusty gaze, and soon he was my willing slave. Right there on the altar, we united in unholy matings, defiling the very essence of their belief.
I pissed and shat on the Bible, that so-called ‘good book,’ just to show my disdain. And for added delight, I used a St. Joseph statue as a dildo—the priest’s eyes nearly popped out of his head!
He was my math teacher too, and after that incident, my grades were forever preserved. I never had to lift a finger for assignments again. My new BFF made sure I aced every term.
Such sweet, sweet corruption! And the best part? Blackmailing the priest into a perpetual fuckfest. He was putty in my hands, and our incestuously religious adventures knew no bounds.
So, dear parishioners, let’s hear it for the whore who found her true calling in the church aisles. Hail to the power of unholy lust!
Cora
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