Our Daily Bred (paranormal breeding sex) Read Free

spread, and a small table with a few strange instruments on
it. Father Hanson set me down on the bed and strapped my legs into
the stirrups so I couldn’t move my legs from the splayed position
they were in.
    Looking downwards, I could only
see the top of Father Hanson’s head as he peered under my skirt
while sitting on a stool of some kind. I began to squirm with
anticipation as he sat there drinking in the view of my panty-clad
sex, only the thin white material separated his eyes from my most
private of places. I never told anybody, as I hadn’t wanted to
appear vain, but I knew that all my swimming had a positive effect
on my body. My legs were toned and athletic and I kept myself
pretty much clean shaven from the waist down. Part of it was to
reduce drag in the water, part of it was because I loved the
feeling of my smooth pussy and never having to worry about pubic
hair peeking out the side of my swimsuit.
    Standing up he moved forward,
pressing a huge bulge in his pants against the crotch of my
panties. I whimpered, even through all those layers of material I
could feel that strange heat and energy. I could already feel the
throbbing of his cock against my clit as he leaned forward, pushing
my shirt up over my breasts and exposing my lacy black bra.
    “You’re not a virgin.” He said
it not as a question, but as a statement of fact.
    “No, Father.” I said, there was
no point in lying.
    “Those social events they
organise with the local boys’ school can get a little... out of
hand sometimes can’t they?” He asked, grinding against me almost
imperceptibly. I felt my pussy moisten in response.
    “Yes, Father... is it... OK?” I
asked, suddenly worried that he wouldn’t want me anymore.
    “Yes, child, not every woman
whom the holy spirit comes upon need be a virgin. A harlot may
beget as readily as a saint.”
    I realised that this was the
second time in only a few minutes I’d been called a slut. Part of
me wanted to deny the title, I’d only had sex with that one boy,
but then I realised that to be a slut for God was an honour, not a
shame. Father Hanson stepped back and grabbed a huge pair of
scissors from the small table and my pussy felt cold without the
heat of his cock pressing against it. I was momentarily worried as
he slid the scissors up my taught navel, the cold metal making me
flinch. Slipping the scissors over the material of my bra between
my breasts he closed the blades with a powerful clench of his
hand.
    My ample teen tits had been
straining against the supportive garment, when the bra was cut open
the material sprang away from me to each side and my breasts
spilled out, my hard nipples pointing straight up. Father Hanson
paused only briefly to admire them before retracting the scissors
and slipping them under the hem of my skirt. I felt a tugging at my
panties and then a repeat of that snipping sound before the cool
air hit my wet and clean-shaven snatch.
    Once again Father Hanson’s head
disappeared out of view as he sat on the stool between my legs.
Suddenly I felt his hot breath on my pussy and gasped. I struggled
against the restraints, trying to inch myself lower and feel his
mouth on me, but I was unable to move far enough. It was sensual
agony in that immeasurable time with just that hot air hitting my
most sensitive spot.
    Finally Father Hanson ended my
torment and I felt his lips softly gripping at my pussy lips,
gently tugging again and again on each side and conducting that
same thrumming heat into my body with every touch, driving me wild.
My juices began leaking out from between my folds, smearing his
lips, and subsequently getting spread all over as he kissed and
caressed my sex. Suddenly I felt his hot wet tongue snake out of
his mouth and slip into my tight teen tunnel. It was unbelievably
long and plunged into my depths over and over again. My hips began
to buck as it impaled me, like it was stoking a fire of pleasure
that grew in my belly.
    Without warning he