He raised a hand and stroked my cheek. My face turned to him, my body tried to move closer, craving his touch. I needed more. I needed to feel his han...s explore my body, pinch my nipples, I needed to feel his warm body on mine, his cock inside me, and his hands around my wrists. How is it possible to have so many thoughts from such a simple touch? He released my hands, helped me off the bed and gently pushed me to my knees. My eyes were drawn to his cock, it was rock hard in front of my lips. She had to marry that loathsome Lothar Livingston, a depraved wretch hiding behind a priestly collar. If there is but one woman in his parish, single or married, who has not had her bottom pinched by that pious lecher, I have yet to meet her. Ruth, too, has had her little dalliances if there is any substance to what I hear. Let her then invent her mendacious little concoctions in a vain attempt to maintain her respectability. It will come to no good in the end.Your kindred soul, PaulineOctober. More

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