I can see me, on my knees, worshipping something other than God; or perhaps to me, that something I want to worship is God. Having closed my eyes and ...owed my head to the floor, it looks like I’m deep in prayer, contemplating the meaning of life, which, as we all know is forty-two, so no surprises there. I have this image in my head of Father Patrick’s cock down my throat which makes me shudder with excitement and dread at the same time because I know that Father Patrick wouldn’t look twice at. It, that urine stream, was not long coming, it tasted bitter, I spluttered and spat and she laughed, said it was “An acquired taste, but it was something she had got used to, my Jack had said it was a sign of my subservience!” we changed places and after a struggle on my part to overcome my nerves, I managed to fill her eager mouth, which she swallowed with a grin. Realising my reluctance she pushed me down her body, and stiff as I now was I slid into her wet orifice, I lay there wet with our. More

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