..’I sighed, and rolled my eyes. Saint Paul had a knack for rubbing me the wrong way. In Caravaggio’s Conversion, I kind of wish his horse had squ...shed him. But Advent, I remembered, was around the corner, and would have more spirit of the season about it. All stars and angels. Immaculate conceptions, and virgin births. The bony lector droned on.‘...No punishment brings pleasure at the time. It’s painful. Yet in time, if you are trained by Him you may know peace.’I frowned. Really laying it on. I knew that my clit was already protruding from my folds, but I left it alone. My favorite middle finger went to the far end of my slit, where my juice was oozing out and down between my ass cheeks. My bishop was already in place in my ass. I had slipped my secret black plastic lover in when I changed my panties earlier. The little guy had been with me for many years since I rescued him from the trash after my brother had blown up the kings and queens of both colors with fire crackers. I loved. More

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