Her eyes were closed.
"Hands all over me. Mouths all over me. Voices in my ears and the weight of bodies all around me
"I'm surrounded," she said.
"My body is shaking and I have goosebumps all over and? all this? sweat!
My sweat? their sweat and I'm thinking, I can't believe I'm doing this!"
She ran her fluttering fingers down the length of her arms and shuddered.
"Mmmmmm, this is amazing! Everything is so smooth and slippery and hot! So much body heat and passion and desire and spit and dirtiness and..."
Her skin was flushed and she was on the edge of her seat, voiced raised. She seemed to become aware of her heightened emotional state and paused to compose herself. She looked down for a moment as if shame had overcome her.
"They were filling me, I was so... stuffed."
She lifted her head suddenly, almost proudly, and looked directly into my eyes.
I was overstuffed and I kept saying that. I kept saying 'I'm sooo stuffed, I'm sooo full!'"
"I see," was the only reply I could think of.
I had simply asked about her weekend.
She was wearing an incredibly inappropriate ultra low cut mini-dress, stockings and heels. She was dressed in black, with gothic style make up and jet black hair with subtle purple streaks. She had several piercings in her ears, one in her eyebrow, and a small ring in her lower lip. It was also quite obvious both her nipples were pierced. She had three visible tattoos, a biohazard symbol on the side of her neck, and on each of her upper arms were daggers with snakes coiled around them. Above the one one her left arm, the word SEX was inscribed, above the one on her right arm, DEATH.
She leaned forward, arched her back and took a deep breath.
"You see this face?" she asked.
I maintained eye contact with her for several seconds, then diverted my eyes.
When the silence became unbearable she continued.
"I've been told I have a blowjob face," she boasted.
I imagined her nude, with just about every imaginable spot lanced and/or punctured and filled with stainless steel. She was very sexy, in an un wholesome way; adulterated and sensual.
"You see this mouth?" she asked.
I raised an eyebrow.
"It was made to suck cock."
She moaned softly.
"I love to suck dick."
She looked me up and down seductively, shamelessly.
"I love to use my tongue," she laughed.
"I have really amazing oral skills."
Her bright blue eyes widened.
"I love to deep-throat, I can put a dick really far down my throat. I love the way my eyes get watery and I love it when a guy grabs me by the back of the head and makes me gag on his cock."
She took a deep breath, sighed and closed her eyes.
The first time I ever gave head I was in eighth grade and it was two guys from the football team behind the boy's locker-room. From there I started perfecting my technique."
She opened her eyes and looked at me, humorless and pensive.
"And I am very, very good."
"Miss Black, " I said sternly.
"To be honest, I don't even know how many cocks I've sucked?and I'm only 19!" she continued.
"Miss Black! Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"We've just met; these are very intimate details of your life. Do you feel the need to shock me? Or is it your plan to seduce me? Because a sexual relationship, even a consensual one, is certainly... improper, to say the least."
She laughed mischievously.
"I know all about the rules, Father," she said sarcastically.
She leaned back slowly and gracefully, sinking into the overstuffed couch. She wiggled her ass and extended and crossed her legs, letting her silky smooth stockings rub together. The soft sound of the friction was... delicious.
"You know," she said.
"I think it's the sounds of sex that turn me on the most."
"Miss Black, you seem to be having difficulty focusing," I said.
"The little moans, the slaps," she laughed.
"The wet, juicy noises? but even something more subtle can get me going, like the sound of my stockings rubbing together."
She looked at me as her devious fingers toyed with the idea of raising her skirt.
"Miss Black," I interrupted.
I cleared my throat and pressed my bible against my erection and felt it throb under the pressure.
"Perhaps we could get to why you came here today."
She stared at my notebook, unfazed by my questioning.
"I know your cock is hard, Father Murphy," she said.
"I know your cock is really hard for me and I love it, it makes me wet."
"You know what turns me on most, Father Murphy?"
She didn't give me a chance to respond.
"Is how much you want this."
She looked down over her luscious, writhing body and began to slowly lift her skirt with one hand and caress her breast with the other. She moved her fingers over her swollen nipple through the thin, satiny material of her dress.
"What do you find the most arousing about me, Father Murphy?"
She gave me a sardonically threatening look.
"My lips?"
She laughed as she spread her legs wide enough to reveal she wasn't wearing panties and her pussy was clean shaven, and glistening.
"Or is it my ass?"
She slowly rolled over on all fours and jiggled her ass in an extremely crude and unrefined manner.
"Miss Black!"
I stood up and tossed my bible on the table beside my chair, unsure of what I would say next.
"Miss Black," I took a moment to compose myself.
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you can't take this seriously. I'm here to help you, but I can't help unless you tell me why you're here."
She leered at me, insolent, and slid onto the floor and began to crawl toward me. She slinked seductively like a brazen, gothic sex kitten.
"Oh, I'll tell you why I'm here, Father Murphy," she said in a sober and businesslike fashion.
"I'm an addict. NO! I'm a junkie!
I have to have it. I have to. I can't help myself. I'm addicted and obsessed. I can't get enough. I need it like food... like breathing."
I backed up against the wall.
"You're a sex addict?"
She was on her knees in front of me, unbuckling my belt.
"Miss Black, please!"
I wrestled with her but her tenacity and strength were astonishing.
She pulled my cock out of my slacks, gripped it firmly by the base with one hand and shoved me against the wall with the other.
"Not exactly a sex addict, Father,"
She smiled and eyed my cock like a hungry tigress.
"But I do have needs."
She bit into my cock as if it were an apple, I felt her fangs sink into the shaft...but no pain.
I suppose I was in shock.
I stood there paralyzed, filled not with fear but euphoria.
She sucked ravenously from my engorged penis and blood-filled her mouth and overflowed, spurted from the wounds and spilled to the floor and dribbled down her neck.
She was moaning in ecstasy, almost sobbing, and rubbing her wet pussy with sensual, sedate rhythm.
It was hypnotic.
I watched her and I began to orgasm, my body shook slowly and deliberately as if in slow motion and the incredible feeling, all my senses and awareness seemed to be swallowed up in darkness.
I woke up the next morning on the sofa in my office; not an unheard of occurrence, I've been known to spend the night in my office from time to time after a night of drinking. I was unscathed, safe and sound, in one piece, and my penis? Not a scratch, undamaged.
After a cup of coffee I convinced myself the whole thing was a dream, but everything had changed...
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