I knew him as soon as I saw his face. He didn’t have to be wearing his collar. I will never forget our times in the confessional when I was preparing for first holy communion. How he showed me that the virginal white dress I was to wear was a representation of a bride and how I would be symbolically marrying Christ when I took the symbol of his body into my mouth. He told me that he was a representation of Christ and that is why we called him Father and that I had to take him into my mouth as well. In preparation of course. In many ways he helped make me who I am today. I knew that I would have to give him a little something special as a thank you for all he had given me. He didn’t recognize me at all so when I asked him and a young Nun if they would come to the graveyard and bless the ground where my mother was buried, neither of them hesitated. Once there I took out my knife and held it to his throat while I ordered her to take everything but her habit off. You should have seen her grinding her pussy on that cross and spewing blasphemy in an effort to save his worthless hide. His dick was so hard, just like I remembered it when I was young. I ordered him to take it out of his pants and ran my knife down to where it stood in all it’s erect glory! I could feel his body flinch but he couldn’t hide his arousal. I made him walk over to her and give her the body of Christ just as he had done me. It was a long afternoon for them in that graveyard. I don’t think they will find them under the coffins of the couple that was buried later that afternoon.
Angie
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