I begged him not to fuck my pussy; I was ovulating on those days.But he did not want to hear my pleas; He just wanted to fuck me.The bastard finally g...abbed my skirt and ripped it off from my body. He smiled at the sight of my tiny white cotton thong; it barely covered my shaven labia. He pushed me back on the couch.The man smiled again, seeing my thong was already damp. He told me I was a slutty wet cunt. Then he slid between my thighs and parted them, rubbing my clit with his dirty fingers.. I liked the smell of them, the hard clean white cotton of the surplice and its intricate embroidery, the sleek, almost silky blackness of the long soutane that came down to my ankles. I looked into the sacristy and saw that the priest was already fully robed, waering a large embroidered green chasuble. I loved the mysterious names of the garments that we learned when we practised laying them out. The Surplice - a decorative white tunic worn over the cassock. The stole, a long, narrow strip of. More

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