I pick up the plain wooden cross from its desktopholder and brush aside Fr. Joe's black shirttails. My one arm encircling hisnarrow waist to hold him ...irmly in place, I start paddling Fr. Joe's palelittle rump with the wooden cross. His small buns quiver and bounce with eachstinging blow of the wooden cross. He mutters in Latin, in between his pleasfor forgiveness, as I continue to thrash his small priestly ass, theGregorian chants on the cd making me even hornier. Soon,. "No!" she protested, "I forbid it!" she insisted but her body had betrayed her and she gasped as I squeezed that special place between finger and thumb, "Please!" she protested once more but in the darkness she lapsed into the stupor of warmth and pleasure that is normally the realm of the lovers of lesbos.She gasped, moaned, writhed even, "Do you submit?" I asked."Noooo!" she whispered and then subsided with a contented sigh."Then tomorrow I shall convince you, but first." I told her, "Suck my. More

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