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‘Wow, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?’ She starts pulling off her shirt, revealing her bra-less breasts. ‘No, I do other things with the bush,’ you say, looking down at her endowed chest. ‘I hope they’re good things,’ she says, undoing and pulling down her pants. She takes them and her high heels off. Without underwear, she stands completely frontally nude before you. ‘As you can see, my bush deserves no less.’ ‘Absolutely,’ you say, looking down at her pubic hair. Looking back up to see all of her, you say, ‘You have such a beautiful body.’ ‘Why, thank you,’ she says, giggling. ‘What do you want me to do now?’ ‘Could you pose for me, please? I wanna see all of you.’ ‘OK,’ she says, getting on a coffee table and spreading her legs. You bend down to get a closer look at her delicious pink pussy. ‘What do you think?’ she asks. ‘Perfection,’ you say. ‘Can I finger you?’ ‘We’ll find out just how well.’ She spreads her labia wide open for you. You put your left index finger on her. With Zebul's mouth firmly clamped around her breast, her motions became more frenetic. The cock may be stretching her to breaking point; it may be too long, too fat, too hard: she no longer cared. Her god was inside her; filling her so full she felt her internal organs had withered to leave an empty space which was now filled with his cock. She needed it; needed its hard length, its knotted girth: needed to feel it moving inside her. Without it she was nothing: with it she was complete. She needed his cock and she needed his seed. Her mind was blank except for one thought: to make him cum; to make him fill her with his holy, life-giving seed. Her skin, from head toe, was flushed. Beads of sweat stood out on it, visible even in the warm light of the candelabra. Her juice dribbled from where their bodies were joined and trickled down his balls.Around the hall the chanting want on growing in volume, swelling and rising until it became a roar that made the rafters ring. Suddenly, Zebul.
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