Moment 128: How To Fix Your Sexless Relationship: Tracey Cox

    enSeptember 22, 2023

    Podcast Summary

    • Effective communication bridges gaps in sexual relationshipsUnderstanding and addressing root causes of sexual dissatisfaction through open communication can lead to healthier, more fulfilling relationships.

      Effective communication is key in maintaining a healthy and satisfying sexual relationship. The discussion highlighted the struggles some individuals in their 30s face in their relationships, feeling unsatisfied with their partner's intimacy. The speaker shared a personal experience where a lack of communication led to the end of a relationship. The speaker's friend group also reported similar issues, leading some to consider cheating or ending relationships. Effective communication, as demonstrated in the Zoom technology showcased, can help bridge gaps and address underlying issues, ultimately strengthening the bond between partners. The importance of understanding and addressing the root causes of sexual dissatisfaction cannot be overstated. Communication tools like Zoom, and the willingness to use them, can help bridge gaps and foster open and honest conversations, leading to healthier and more fulfilling relationships.

    • Rebuilding Sexual Intimacy Through Communication and SafetyEffective communication and creating a sense of safety can help rekindle sexual desire in relationships, even in cases of low sex drive or past traumas. Understand the difference between spontaneous and responsive desire to cater to each other's needs.

      Effective communication and creating a sense of safety and security in a relationship can significantly improve sexual intimacy, even in situations where one partner has a low sex drive or is hesitant due to past experiences. This was demonstrated in a personal story where a woman, who had experienced fear and abandonment issues, was able to rebuild her sexual appetite after feeling truly understood and safe with her partner. The importance of communication, patience, and understanding cannot be overstated in such situations. Additionally, it's essential to consider that women may say no to sex due to uninteresting or unfulfilling offers. Understanding the difference between spontaneous and responsive desire can help partners better cater to each other's needs and foster a healthier and more satisfying sexual relationship.

    • Men and Women's Sexual Desire DifferencesMen typically have spontaneous desire, while women usually have responsive desire. Foreplay is often necessary for women's comfort during penetration.

      Men and women experience sexual desire differently. About two-thirds of men have spontaneous desire, which means they feel an instant urge for sex, while the rest of men and most women have responsive desire. This means they need some form of stimulation before feeling aroused. Additionally, the female body requires warming up for comfortable penetration, making foreplay a necessity for many women. These differences can lead to misunderstandings and miscommunications in sexual relationships. Understanding these differences can help improve communication and satisfaction for both partners.

    • Understanding Women's SexualityWomen require more time, foreplay, and stimulation to feel aroused. Long-term relationships don't diminish their desire, but it may need igniting through great sex and communication.

      Women's sexual desire and response can be different from men's, and it's essential for couples to understand this. Women often need more time and foreplay to feel aroused and desire sex. The spontaneous desire may decrease in long-term relationships, but it doesn't mean the desire is gone. Instead, women need stimulation and great sex to ignite their desire. Contrary to popular belief, women are not always in the mood for tame and romantic sex; research shows they also enjoy erotic and wild experiences. Therefore, communication, understanding, and creating a sexually stimulating environment are crucial for maintaining a satisfying sexual relationship.

    • Societal norms suppress women's sexual responseNew, intriguing sexual scenarios can help rekindle women's desire in long-term relationships

      Women's sexual response is often suppressed due to societal norms and expectations, leading to a disconnect between what they truly desire and what they express. This disconnect can result in a lack of interest in sex in long-term relationships. However, introducing exciting and erotic experiences can rekindle that desire. The success of books like "Fifty Shades of Grey" demonstrates the power of new and intriguing sexual scenarios in reigniting passion. Instead of focusing on routine or romantic sex, it's essential to push boundaries and provide interesting and sexy experiences. By doing so, partners can help their significant others rediscover their own desires and reinvigorate their sex lives.

    • Open communication about sex is crucial in a relationshipCommunicate regularly and have consistent intimacy to maintain a healthy sexual relationship

      Having open and honest communication about sex in a relationship is crucial. According to the discussion, if a couple hasn't had sex for a significant period, it's unlikely they will resume without addressing the issue head-on. The longer the absence of sex, the harder it becomes to restart the intimacy. Thirty percent of couples who have been together for two years or more experience this issue. It's easy to fall out of the habit of having sex, and once that happens, it can become an insurmountable challenge. Instead of trying to make up for lost time with marathon sex sessions, it's recommended to have "bite-sized bits" of intimacy regularly. Communication and consistency are key to maintaining a healthy and satisfying sexual relationship.

    • Exploring Intimacy Beyond IntercourseExplore different forms of intimacy and sensuality beyond intercourse to reconnect sexually with your partner. Communicate openly about preferences and experiences to discover new ways to enjoy each other.

      Sex can mean more than just intercourse. Intimacy and sensuality can be expressed through various acts and experiences, such as prolonged kissing, oral sex, bathing together, or engaging in other sensual activities. These acts can help reconnect sexually without the need for a traditional beginning, middle, and end. It's essential to remember that everyone's preferences and experiences are different, and it's important to communicate openly with your partner about what feels good and enjoyable for both of you. Intercourse may not be the favorite part for some women, and removing it from the equation can lead to new and meaningful sexual experiences.

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    Sexual Healing with Virgin Women's Panel in 'Conversations 'Bout the Girls" with Dr. Marissa

    Sexual Healing with Virgin Women's Panel in 'Conversations 'Bout the Girls" with Dr. Marissa
    In another laughter-filled episode talking about the positive side of sex, breasts, pleasure zones and other G-spot rated topics, Dr. Marissa's first/Virgin womens' panel enlightens and identifies what women want from men! Breaking the tradition of being too embarrassed to ask for what you want or would like when it 'comes' to sex, literally ;) the panel tries to undo decades of shame and darkness about our bodies. Sonia Jackson, the producer and director of the play, "Conversations Bout the Girls, singer/songwriter and producer Marianne Lewis and Sexpert Tynyetta Dynear help shed some light on erogenous zones and how to best communicate and separate the men from the boys. Dr. Marissa asks the panel to comment on modern women and paying for half, chivalry and what constitutes kicking a man to the curb! The "moose on the table" discussion also ensues ways to achieve intimacy between partners from games to barber shops! Episode sponsored David Beck's book "They Asked You What?!" and www.4Balance.org

    Good Morning Licks

    Good Morning Licks

    Communication Can Be Nonverbal. 

    by Fugman - listen to the podcast at Steamy Stories.


    To be perfectly honest, our sex life has been kind of stale lately. Between work, the kids, and other obligations, by the time we get to go to bed, we are both exhausted and not in the mood to be intimate.

    One night not too long ago, I kissed Tammy goodnight and went to sleep, she was reading on her phone. We shared the ‘I love yous’ and I quickly faded out.

    Several times in the past as Tammy reads her romance books, she’ll wake me up for some play time, but that hasn’t happened in a while.

    This one night, I heard something and slowly opened my eyes. As I slowly adjusted to the darkness, I soon noticed that Tammy was playing with her bare nipple and moaning. I did not want to disturb her, she was literally enjoying herself, so I laid still staring at her naked body. She was pinching her nipple tightly and pulling them, stretching her breasts tall. I slowly tilted my head to see her legs wide open and her fingers playing with herself. I could not take my eyes off if her, her fingers, and I was starting to feel my hardness grow.

    She took her fingers out of her wetness and I watched as she brought them to her lips and inserted them in her mouth. She moaned loudly, letting me know that she thoroughly enjoyed her own excited juices. I stayed still and silent and watched as her hand slid back down and her fingers disappeared back inside of her vagina. They slowly vanished inside of her and she moaned again, and everytime she played with her clit, her moans got louder.

    I watched her as she pleasured herself, her fingers sliding in and out of her, occasionally licking them clean before returning down below. The moans were getting louder and louder and I watched as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feelings that her playful fingers provided. She turned her head towards me and I closed my eyes…a second later I opened my eyes and she was staring at me intently, mouth open as she was about to finish in front of me.

    With our eyes locked, I watched as she hurdled towards her climax…I heard her fingers sloshing through her wetness, her moans increased in volume and frequency. She was a few strokes from screaming out and I watched her as she tried to keep her eyes open and connected to mine. Just as she hit her explosive finish, her eyes opened and she looked right at me. She looked incredible as her orgasm shook her body uncontrollably.


    Tammy brought her fingers up and inserted them in her mouth again, this time looking directly at me as she slid her fingers in and out from between her lips. “Mmmmm,” she said as slowly withdrew them from her mouth. “Do you want to taste?” She asked, already knowing my answer would be yes.

    She licked her fingers and slowly slid her hand down her body, pinched her nipple tightly and then continued tracing her fingers down her body. Once she reached between her legs, her eyes closed briefly as her fingers slid inside her already soaked opening. I watched her move her fingers in and out a few times before bringing them to my lips. I kissed them gently then wrapped my lips around her fingers and pulled them inside my mouth. My tongue swirled around her digits and tasted every drop of her juice that I could. Her eyes watched me intently as she slowly withdrew her fingers.

    “Mmmm, baby, I love the taste of you,” I said, “I want more.” As I said that, I slid my body out form under the covers and moved down the bed. As soon as my head was near her privates, I could smell her aroma, the scent drew me in. As soon as my tongue touched her upper thigh, she moaned, her heart was already pounding in anticipation And I did not keep her waiting. My tongue slid down her thigh and I tasted her from the source. Her hands grabbed the back of my head and pulled me deep between her legs. My tongue slipped inside of her lips as I heard her moan again.

    I had to fight her grip to raise my head slightly, “mmm, straight from the source!” As I moved back in and my tongue parted her opening and I moved it up and down. I love the feeling of her opening as it makes room for my invading tongue. I went up and down tasting as much of her as I could and then I brought my lips up and surrounded her pleasure button. As soon as my lips surrounded her and started to gently suck, she moaned loudly. She was already approaching her second orgasm, and I wanted to bring it to her. I continued sucking, licking, nibbling on her button until she begged for me to finish her. That is when my tongue slid down and back into her opening, up and down I moved it, then I started pushing it in and out of her.

    Every few strokes of my tongue, then I would go back to her clit and suck, nibble, lick and suck some more. Her hands grabbed my head and held it tightly as her explosion neared. I swirled my tongue around and then bit down as I heard her intense moan indicating that she was coming again. I held her firmly as more juices flowed from her sweet opening. When she finally calmed down and released her death grip on my head, I licked her up and down again, coating my tongue and face with her juice for the second time.

    She pulled me by the head until I kissed her, she swirled her tongue inside my mouth tasting her flavor once again.

    Tammy felt my erection poking into her as we kissed and she reached for my underwear. Seconds later, my butt was bare and her hands were pulling me inside of her. The excessive lubrication down below had me sinking deep with very little effort. Once I was fully inside of her, she held me tight and ground her hips against mine. She was still pleasuring herself and I needed to take over and do the pleasuring. I lifted my hips, until only the very tip of me remained inside, I used my hand and slid my hardness against her seam, sliding up and down but not entering her. She moaned again, the angle I was hitting her pelvis was causing every up stroke to hit her already overly sensitive clit.

    Back and forth between full penetration and sliding up and down her seam had her ready to come unglued. But I love hearing her moans, I love hearing her being fully pleasured and know that I am in control. I was coated in a lot of her wetness so it made it really easy to slide back and forth, in and out, up and down until she was rapidly approaching her third climax for the night.

    I stayed inside of her and ground my hips, moving my erection around inside, hitting everywhere that I could reach until I knew she was about to go over the edge. Then I plowed hard and fast inside of her, she moaned louder and she held on to my hips feeling me thrust deep and hard. She was getting closer and closer and I knew it would not be much longer before she was cumming again.

    I felt her hands move to my bare butt and I suddenly felt a sharp pain on my cheeks. She dug her fingernails into my backside and she held me in place, buried deep inside of her. She moved her hips back and forth until she moaned again. Her body shook violently as waves of pleasure ran through her body again.

    Her body quivering was vibrating my hardness still buried inside of her, I felt a sharp pain on my bare butt cheeks, it was Tammy, digging her nails in deep so that I would not move until she was done with me.

    The sharp pain in my backside conflicted with the pleasure that my erection was experiencing as her body was stroking me inside, almost milking me for my seed.

    After she started to come down from her orgasm, she released my butt cheeks and told me, “let me taste me on you, lay down, it’s my turn to please you.” I did as I was told and rolled over, standing tall and proud. She rolled over and I watched as she locked eye contact with me and licked the head, swirling her tongue around to hit ever side, and the little hole on the top. She licked all around, didn’t let one spot get ignored, “mmmmm, you taste so good with me on you.”

    My head fell back and I lost eye contact with her as she went up and down surrounding my tool with her mouth, lips, tongue, hand stroking me, she was working me, and working me well. It was like she was wanting me to finish quickly.

    Her mouth moved up and down, her tongue swirled over my head, back and forth on the very tip, coating me with her saliva as it mixed with my excitement starting to ooze from me. I grabbed her by the hair and held on as she was definitely taking control, I knew what she wanted, but I wasn’t ready to give in just yet. I fought the urges to explode down her throat, but she was really ramping up the intensity. I was really fighting back but I knew I was fighting a losing battle, I knew it was only a matter of time before she drained me of every last drop.

    I thought I had it handled, I was thinking of anything I could so that I wasn’t concentrating on what she was doing to me, but as soon as I felt her fingers play with my testicles, I knew it was coming quickly. She teased the underside and squeezed them, but as soon as she looked up at me and I made eye contact with her, she grinned around my tool in her mouth and nodded to me that it was time.

    That was all it took, with a moan and a groan, I filled her mouth with everything in me. She played with my jewels as she drank down every last drop, “mmmmm,” she moaned around my tool. Causing vibrations around my shooting appendage, the feeling was too much to take as I held her head in place and moved my hips back and forth. I could barely think about anything but her mouth still surrounding me, drinking and using me as her straw to get to the very last bit of my special shake.

    When I was finally drained of everything, she raised her head and licked me from the top to my jewels, making sure that she got it all, and she smiled up at me, “mmmm, straight from the source.” We giggled and cuddled until we fell back to sleep, saying our I love yous before drifting off again, both completely satisfied.

    by Fugman, for Tumblr

    Confession of a Parish Lecher

    Confession of a Parish Lecher

    Father Jim Reconciles his two separate lifestyles. Did God ever ask him to remain celebate for life?

    By GrushaVashnadze. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.


    “Oh yeah, cunt!” he muttered under his breath.

    “Yeah, hot fucking cunt!” he continued, ogling the juicy specimen of beauty displaying herself to his lustful eyes. Her pussy was indeed beautiful, pink and delicate, with a finely-crafted blond landing-strip, held open by a pair of painted fingers, so that he could gaze into its hot, wet, steamy depths. He stroked his cock in anticipation, feeling his shaft stiffen and grow, and feeling that exquisite yearning sensation spread outwards, filling his body with testosterone-fuelled bliss.

    The owner of said cunt looked at him seductively, the tip of her tongue gently tracing the outline of her lips, her eyes cheekily inviting, one hand kneading her huge, perfect, surgically-enhanced breasts, as the other continued to hold her fuck-lips wide.

    “Oh, yeah, baby, I’m gonna fuck that cunt so hard,” he continued. “I’m gonna ram my fucking cock deep in your hot pussy, I’m gonna feel your juicy cunt around my cock, and then I’m gonna fucking come inside you, I’m gonna spurt all my fucking cum deep in your hot fuck-hole till you scream in pleasure. You want that, baby, you want that?”

    But there was no answer from the buxom blonde beauty. For she was but a centrefold in a magazine, lying open before him on his bed. One picture among many, actually, for his eiderdown was covered with a selection of his collected periodicals, open to his favourite pages, featuring a variety of nude beauties, all displaying themselves, he liked to think, purely for his pleasure.

    His cock throbbed as he stroked it, thumb and two fingers gently rubbing the glans while the palm of his hand wrapped itself around the shaft. He admired his carefully-ordered “cunt collage” as he liked to call it. The buxom blond (“Jenny”, according to the caption) occupied pride of place in the centre of his bed. Surrounding her were half a dozen other centrefolds: “Sabrina”; dark-haired, with huge natural flowing boobs, left hand holding her pussy open whilst one delicate finger of the right curled knuckle-deep into her arsehole; “Brea”; blonde and skinny, with pert breasts, irresistibly smouldering eyes, and a shaven pussy; “Elsa” bleached blond hair, sweet “next-door-girl” smile, hairy blonde cunt with’ “oh fuck!” he muttered, as he felt his cock twitch and jerk in delight, gorgeous flappy cunt-lips which dangled, glistening with little beads of pussy-juice…

    He paused his cock-stroking, looking away and upwards at the ceiling, in order to calm himself down: he didn’t want to come too soon. Not yet.

    Just in time, the phone rang. Nervously he scrabbled for the receiver.

    “Hi Jimmy!”

    It was the sultry voice he was expecting.

    “It’s Beattie here, wiff yer fantasy call.”

    “ Beattie, how are you?”

    “Oh, Jimmy, I’m feeling so fuckin’ horny this evening, I’m been so looking forward to our call.”

    “Talk to me, Beattie,” said Jimmy, as he resumed slowly massaging his dick.

    “Oh, you know me, Jimmy, I just can’t get enough fuckin’. I’m sitting here on my bed, and I’m wearin’ this skimpy negligee, and I’ve shaved my pussy just for you, and it’s so fuckin’ wet, Jimmy, I just can’t wait for you to ram yer big cock in there. D'ye wanna do that, Jimmy?”

    Beattie’s voice was warm and breathy, something she had practised and honed over the months she had been calling him. Jimmy knew that, these days, he could instead be watching a video online, or a camgirl, but he was a man of habit and tradition, and he loved the way things used to be when he was younger, when porn was always magazines, and audio invariably meant the telephone. And so he sat at the head of his bed, stroking his cock, listening to Beattie’s breathy seductive personalised filth, whilst he continued to ogle his favourite magazine nudes.

    As Beattie spoke, his eyes continued to roam the pages spread open on the bed: “Codi”, a ridiculously slender blonde with big fake tits, pouting lips drooling slightly at the sight of her own shaven cunt, spread wide with two delicate hands; “Emma”, on all fours, so her pussy peeped cheekily out from between her buttocks, crowned by a tight puckered arsehole…

    Beattie was very good too: she knew, after some six months of weekly Friday evening calls to Jimmy, just how he liked it. Jimmy wasn’t interested in toys, or blowjobs, or titfucks, or anal, or any other kinks. He liked cunt. He loved cunt. And he adored it when Beattie talked cunt:

    “Jimmy…” “my pussy’s feelin’ so hot tonight. Will ye put yer dick in there, Jimmy?”

    “It’s all for you, Beattie,” muttered Jimmy, in a half-hearted attempt to play along with the fantasy. Actually, he wasn’t much interested in the role-play aspect of things: it was, after all, pure fakery, but he liked hearing Beattie talk dirty, and so he said the minimum required to let her know that she was on the right track, and then revelled in the glorious obscenity of her wall-to-wall aural filth.

    “Oh yeah, that feels so fucking good!” “Your cock’s so fuckin’ hard, Jimmy. I can feel it deep in my cunt, fillin’ me up. Go on, Jimmy, slide that huge fuckin’ cock in and out of my wet cunt; can ye feel my pussy all hot and juicy for ye?“

    Jimmy listened, his eyes roving across the collage spread out on the bed before him, imagining what Beattie’s cunt might be like. Deliberately, he had never asked her, preferring to make it a new cunt each week: last week’s choice had been “Cecilia”, black, shaven, lips teased apart just enough to reveal her juicy pink haven inside; this week, it would be “Jenny”.

    Jimmy loved Beattie’s voice, “chavvy South London”, he called it, oozing squalor; in his more lucid moments he imagined her as a single mum on the dole in some squalid high-rise council flat in Tooting, a ne'er-do-well scraping together a living using the only pathetic skill she had. But now she was his tart, his whore, his plaything, his fantasy: she could be anything and everything he imagined. He liked playing this game, as he continued to stroke his dick to ecstasy whilst revelling in Beattie’s increasingly filthy ongoing monologue. Beattie, for her part, was the consummate professional, sensing from Jimmy’s pants and grunts just how far he was on his journey to release. And when Jimmy muttered, “Say my favourite things, Beattie,” she knew just what he meant.

    “You know, Jimmy, I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfuckin’ whore… That’s what I am, Jimmy, just a cuntfuckin’ whore.”

    Jimmy loved those words, and Beattie’s grimy accent was the icing on the cake: his cock jerked and bucked in response, stiffening even further.

    “I’m a whore, Jimmy. And you like dirdy fuckin’ whores, don’t cha? You wanna fuck my filfy cunt wiv ‘at big cock?”

    Jimmy was in ecstasy. Soon Beattie had progressed to

    “My cunt’s so fuckin’ wet, Jimmy: that’s what you do to me, babe. You’re gonna make me fuckin’ come, Jimmy, ‘coz I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfuckin’ whore, and I’m gonna fuckin’ come all over your big cock!”

    Jimmy took the cue, fixing his eyes on “Jenny’s” pussy, still, of course, reliably wide open and glistening for him, drinking in its beauty, and gradually ramping up the rhythm of his stroking so as to time his own orgasm to match Beattie’s ersatz one. And when Beattie got to;

    “I’m gonna fuckin’ come, Jimmy, here it is baby, come all over ye dirdy filfy cuntfuckin’ whore, oh yeah oh Fuck!”

    Jimmy did exactly that. He felt the tell-tale boiling sensation in his balls, felt his cum surge and rise through his shaft and explode from his bucking, twitching cockhead.

    “Jenny” was the chosen recipient of Jimmy’s cum this evening, six or seven thick ropes of semen splattering over her picture. Jimmy aimed at her cunt, and watched as the likeness of her vulva disappeared under a gloopy coating of semen. Beattie was continuing to moan and squeal down the telephone line:

    “Oh yeah, Jimmy, are ye comin’ for me? Does ‘at feel good, babe?”

    as the last few dribbles of sperm landed on “Jenny’s” tits and face. Beattie’s voice turned breathy and softer;

    “Was 'at nice, Jimmy?” "Do ye like comin’ in my dirdy hot cunt, Jimmy?“

    Jimmy panted incoherently in reply, his imagination desperately clinging on as long as he could to the illusion of sexual fulfillment. But it was always too short-lived. Even before his cock was flaccid, the illusion was fading and Beattie was in business mode:

    "Same time next week still good for ye, babe? Take it off yer card, yeah?”

    Jimmy muttered a “Yeah, thanks, Beattie,” before hanging up and surveying the mess. It never looked as good afterwards as he hoped it would before. Sperm-soiled magazine “Jenny” looked, frankly, ridiculous and tawdry now, a far cry from the seductive perfection she had exuded when pristine on the page. And wrapping up and disposing of semen-soaked magazine pages was anything but sexy. But Jimmy did so with his customary goal-oriented efficiency, trying to, and largely succeeding in, staunching his creeping feeling of shame, until the job was done, his penis was wiped clean, and he had put on his clothes again.

    Then his collar.

    And then his cassock.

    And then Father James Wright knelt on the floor of his bedroom and wept bitterly.

    “Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the Divine Power of God; cast into Hell Satan and all the evil spirits, who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of… oh fuck…”

    Father Jim’s voice tailed off. He had performed his morning ablutions, had his breakfast, and said his Office, and was preparing himself by examination of conscience for his weekly two-birds-with-one-stone excursion to the Cathedral, first to confession, followed by his weekly exorcism training seminar. He usually dressed in civvies for these visits, not wanting to draw attention to himself on public transport, but he never missed his hebdomadal chance to unburden his soul, and timing it for Saturday mornings made sense. Apart from anything else, this way, he felt less guilty saying the Eucharist over the weekend than if he were to have his Friday evening sins hanging on his conscience.

    But this morning Father Jim’s voice gave up mid-supplication, as the thought impinged upon his intercessions: Am I a hypocrite? Actually, this was a thought which frequently went through his mind. The answer, of course, was yes: regularly, deliberately, and with full foreknowledge, every Friday night, and he knew it. For hypocrite though he was, he was neither stupid nor deluded. He had learnt to corral his fleshly weakness into one weekly episode, and it would soon be, gratias Deo, effaced from his soul by the Sacrament of Reconciliation, after which he could continue to pursue his presbyterial vocation with confidence. Until next Friday.

    Today, though, he felt somewhat less confident than normal, less spiritually bullish, more vulnerable than usual. Perhaps it was the weather, dull and grey like many an English spring morning, but it was almost as if he felt that the hosts of Satan were genuinely massing on the horizon, and that he might truly need the intercession of an archangel to forestall the ruin of his soul. In short, Father Jim’s carefully calibrated balancing act between spiritual propriety and sexual concupiscence was feeling unaccountably precarious this morning.

    He was just letting himself out of the presbytery when a young woman came dashing round the corner, her heels clicking unevenly on the pavement.

    “Father Jim! Father Jim! Oh, I’m so glad I caught you. Please would you hear my confession?”

    Behind the urgency of her request Jim descried a pleasingly upper middle-class voice (“so” came out a bit like “say”), but ever so slightly Estuary (“t” in “caught” barely noticeable), as was common with the younger generation.

    Father Jim thought, but did not say: Oh fuck. He tried not to think swear words between Saturday morning confession and the end of mass on Sunday evening. But he had not been to confession yet, and therefore made the split-second judgment that he may as well, for now, think obscenities. After all, he liked them; he liked the sound of them: “fuck”, beautiful, he thought. And this young lady was, he thought to himself, “fucking hot”. She was slender and small, almost a waif, and yet her pencil skirt was just a touch too tight, and her blouse ever so slightly translucent, so that the shape of her nipples, puffy and rounded but not huge, made two soft tents in the front of her top.

    Oops, he thought, as he felt his penis begin to stir inside his rather ill-fitting trousers. No, it would not do to be groping his cock out of the way in front of a parishioner, so he banished “fucking hot” from his brain with a quick piece of well-practiced spiritual legerdemain, and switched into concerned parish priest mode. He vaguely recognised the girl, from the back row of the 10:30, perhaps? but wasn’t sure if they had ever exchanged words. He felt within his rights to say, “I’m actually on my way out now, er…” as he looked at her quizzically with that I’ve-forgotten-your-name look customarily used by parish priests.

    “Bernadette, call me Bernie,”

    said the woman, pronouncing the “r” softly but clearly.

    OK, thought Father Jim. Typical second-generation immigrant. Tries to keep up the religious traditions of the home country, but talks like a Sloane except when asserting her identity. Clearly done well for herself, been to uni. But, Jim groaned inwardly, she wasn’t taking the hint.

    “Oh please, Father, I really need you to hear my confession, I… I…”

    Father Jim looked into her eyes for the first time, and there was that look of moral desperation he was used to seeing in some people. Some could live in their sins for long periods of time before emotional need drove them back to the Church; others, like this girl, presumably, were made of less stern stuff. Her eyes glistened with barely held-back tears, as she continued:

    “I think I may be under a curse, or a hex, and I… I know you are training to be an exorcist, aren’t you?”

    Her lower lip trembled, as her damp eyes pleaded with him.

    In the silence of his heart, Father Jim thought to himself: Oh fuck. But he took no pleasure in this particular iteration of his favourite obscenity. He had met this kind of woman before: excessively impressionable, with an inclination to see spiritual warfare lurking under every pebble, when her only problem might a temporary imbalance of hormones. Exorcism? Bullshit. But Jim was, despite his cynicism, a kind man, and so he said, “All right, Bernie. Of course. Let’s go in,” as he ushered her through his front door. “Face-to-face, or in the box?”

    “Oh, I prefer the old-fashioned way, if that’s all right, Father?”

    she replied sheepishly.

    He gestured her down the corridor towards the church, and then up the long nave, pleasantly illumined by the shifting colours which filtered dully through the great east window. As she walked ahead of him, he watched her bottom jiggle gently from side to side, red heels clicking on the stone floor, her medium-length ponytail of light brown hair swishing behind her. Fuck, he thought, and this time revelled in the thought. Fuck yeah… he muttered silently, his mind’s eye briefly, secretly, undressing her from behind.

    “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,”

    said the girl, once they had both settled into their respective halves of the confessional.

    “How long has,”

    “Oh, over a year, Father. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

    Fuck, thought Father Jim. But, because he was basically a kind-hearted man, he instead said: “Well, take your time. It is good that God has called you back to the Sacrament now.”

    “Thank you, Father.” “I… I’m married…” "But I’ve not been strictly… faithful…“

    There was a long pause.

    Ho ho, I knew it, thought Jim. Another pretty young slut, got hitched too soon, screwing around behind her husband’s back. Two a penny. Had one just last week, didn’t I? But instead he said, "And how long have you been having this affair?”

    “Oh, it’s not an affair, Father,” "It’s kind of a weird binge, a bit… perverted, if you know what I mean. On the rebound, I guess, because I walked in on my husband, you know, with someone else…“

    Oh shit, thought Father Jim. This’ll take all morning. Web of adultery, seen it all before. One fucks around, the other goes off the rails, and soon they’re all crotch-deep in moral turpitude. Why do they even bother to get married if they’ve got no continence? Should try and be celibate, then they’ll learn how lucky they are… All that passed through his mind in an instant, but of course he voiced none of it.

    "You see,” “we were married a year ago, here, before you came: Father Peter married us, and, well, I thought it was going so well. We… we were really good in bed, you know… I mean, we really liked the sex and everything.”

    Too much information! thought Jim to himself. But he did not say that either.

    “You know, I was a virgin when we got married. I’d saved myself up for this. And the first time, it was wonderful. You know, for some girls it hurts? But for me it was bliss. He just slid in, and I loved it. And we loved it, just like that, in and out, you know?”

    Father Jim felt his cock begin to stir. It was the inevitable involuntary reaction to a sexual confession which was becoming just a touch too detailed. Fuck, girl, why are you telling me all this? he thought. But Bernie continued to jabber, exuding, though unseen, an air of wide-eyed innocence from behind her latticed screen.

    “But then Giles started wanting me to do things I didn’t want to, you know, oral, and anal, and stuff, and I really wasn’t comfortable with it, so we had a few arguments about that. "I mean, when he wanted me to give him a blowjob, you know, he’d just pull down his trousers and waggle the thing in front of my face…”

    Too much fucking information! Jim screeched in the silence of his own heart. But he couldn’t stop himself imagining the husband’s cock, stiff and huge, waggling back and forth in front of Bernie’s pretty face, her narrow mouth opening wider, wider, her tongue extending to lick pre-cum off the frenulum before her lips softly enclosed the… Fuck, Jim, pull yourself together, man! he thought, as he felt his cock begin to make an uncomfortable tent in his trousers. He stammered out loud, “Er… sister, you don’t need to tell me all that, you know, just stick to…”

    “Oh, but it’s important, Father,” “Because that’s what led to it. I told him I didn’t like sucking him off, but he kept trying to persuade me, and I kept saying no…”

    Father Jim imagined he detected the faintest hint of a smirk in her tone, but of course it was impossible to tell…

    “And then,” "there was the anal. Sometimes when we were making love he’d wet his finger with… well, you know… and then he’d reach round and try to stick it in there. I really didn’t like it, and of course he never forced me; I mean, he’s a kind man, he’d never do anything nasty, but it was clear he was disappointed…“

    Oh Jesus motherfucking Christ, thought Father Jim. His cock was stiff now, and he could feel his own pre-cum beginning to leak slowly from his glans. He reached down to adjust his cock inside his trousers, and inevitably his hand lingered just a bit too long, grasping his own erect shaft through the fabric and squeezing it gently. That familiar thrill of pleasure surged through him, but he made himself let go, telling himself: Later, Jim, later. Just get this girl through her confession for now…

    "But the strangest thing of all, Father,” "was when he’d want me to talk dirty to him, you know?“

    Are you kidding? thought Jim incredulously. Do you think that just because I’m a priest I don’t have male blood boiling in my veins? What are you on about, girl?!

    Bernie seemed oblivious to her confessor’s discomfort. Either that, or she was deliberately winding him up, he couldn’t tell for sure.

    "See, Father,” "he’d ask me to say dirty words, like… 'tits’… and 'pussy’… and…“ , her voice lingered a while on the first consonant, "fuck”

    In an instant, Father Jim’s resistance crumbled. That word was his favourite, a glorious fillip to all that was unholy and self-indulgent in the deepest recesses of his mind, and it banished all his residual will-power to the four winds. He quietly but swiftly unzipped his fly, removed his stiff sweaty cock from its prison, pulled back the damp pre-cum-lubricated foreskin, and began to slowly wank his shaft up and down, his lips trembling, his breath coming in ragged bursts. This was wrong. This was so wrong , he knew it, of course. But he was going to do it anyway. This girl could not possibly be for real. This was no sacrament, this was an ambush. The Evil One was tempting him, and he was succumbing. And he fucking loved it…

    “See, Father Jim, it must be something about men, they all like those dirty words so much. My husband did: he wanted me to say things like”

    Bernie lowered her voice conspiratorially;

    “'Ram your fucking cock in my pussy, baby!’ and 'Fuck my hot cunt with that big dick!’ Things like that… Do you like hearing things like that, Father?”

    Bernie’s voice was hot and breathy now. Her prey was in her grasp, and she was playing with him: Jim knew it, but, though he had no idea why this woman had chosen to ambush him in this manner, he knew it was too late. He groaned, as he felt his cock stiffen further in his sweaty palm, felt his heart pound faster with excitement.

    “I’m sure we could have worked things out, Father. You know, I got quite used to the dirty talk, that was quite fun actually. But the oral, and the anal; no way. He’d show me videos on the internet, you know; porn? Girls getting fucked in the arse, and taking cocks down their throats; and it just looked so horrible and painful and disgusting. And then he’d show me videos of group sex, and asked if I’d ever like to do stuff like that; and I said no! And then, to show him I really loved him, I’d let him fuck me. I mean, I really loved it when he fucked me: when his cock was all huge and stiff, and then he’d lie me on my back and fuck me all deep and squelchy. Sometimes he’d lie flat on me and grind the base of his cock against my clit to make me come. Sometimes he’d shift down, so his cockhead found my G-spot. Sometimes he’d flip me over and do me doggy. Sometimes I’d go on top and drive him wild, teasing him with my wet pussy lips before plunging down onto this cock. And I loved all that, Father, I did, truly. Cock in cunt that’s the way it’s meant to be, isn’t it? I mean, that’s the way God made us, isn’t it?”

    Father Jim groaned at the absurdity of his situation. Here was a young girl giving him lessons in Saint John Paul’s Theology of the Body, while he stroked his cock in the confessional, what the fuck was going on?! But he couldn’t stop now. His cock was raging, his balls were aching, and his thoughts were in mindfuck mode. Here was a girl after his own heart, one who loved being fucked in the cunt, and who loved to talk filthy. “Oh yeah, oh fuck, oh God…” he muttered incoherently in his ecstasy.

    “You Okay in there, Father Jim?” "I’m sorry for being so explicit, but ; I kind of have to, you’ll see why soon, I’ll explain…“

    You don’t have to explain, thought Father Jim’ as far as he was capable of thinking anything at all, for he was past thinking now. His mind was now fixed firmly on cunt, on fucking cunt, just like this girl was saying: cock slip-sliding in and out, grinding against engorged clit-flesh. It didn’t matter whose cunt: his years of fake fantasy sex, week after week of dirty pictures; "Jenny” or “Codi” or “Elsa” or whoever the fuck they were; or of listening to “ Beattie” recycling her mind-banked fuck-fantasies for his delectation; all this had inured him to the sheer fakery of being a sex-obsessed celibate. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered now, except the filth-filled moment.

    “But then,” “one day, about six months ago, I came home early from work, and… and I heard voices from the bedroom upstairs. I was about to walk in, but then, through the door, I heard things like, 'Oh yeah, suck that cock, baby. I’m gonna fuck your pretty slut-face with my big dick…’ ; you know, things like that?” Jim heard a nervous giggle from behind the lattice. “And there was the sound of squealing and gagging, like some girl was getting their throat fucked… So then I thought maybe he was watching porn…? But this was too real; and when I realised what must be going on… Oh God, Father, it hurt so much…”

    For the first time, Father Jim paused stroking his cock. The girl was sobbing softly now. Father Jim felt sorry; and guilty. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly, as his cock began to soften, and he began to recognise the reality of his own situation. And so his “I’m so sorry” became, retrospectively, not just an expression of sympathy for Bernie, but also an admission of his own culpability. What was he doing sitting in the half-light, pre-cum smeared over his hand, jerking off while listening to a vulnerable, disturbed young woman telling him about the moment she found her husband cheating on her? Shame on you, Jim, he told himself silently.

    But Bernie had not finished.

    “And so I opened the door,” “and there they were: Giles standing there shirtless, his big cock stuck out through his fly, ropes of spit dangling from the shaft and dribbling all over the face and tits of my best friend Vicky; you know Vicky: Victoria Berry, she runs the First Holy Communion programme here…? Anyway, she was saying, 'Oh yeah, babe, I fucking love it when you choke me with that big cock, go on, ram that cock down my throat again…’

    "And then she saw me, before he did. At first she paused in shock. Then she screamed. And then she retreated to the corner of the bedroom, desperately trying to cover up her big tits and wipe the spit off her face. 'Oh God, Bernie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’ But she wasn’t sorry; and I knew it.

    "Giles didn’t even pretend. He just stood there, spit dribbling from his cock, smirking. He even said, 'Wanna join us, Dette? Come here and I’ll fuck your cunt just the way you like it, while Vicky licks my balls…’

    "And I… well, I had no idea what to say. So I just screamed at him, ’"Just the way I like it” ; sorry?! You’re nothing but a fucking pervert, with all your porn, and your anal and your throatfucking. And now this?! How dare you treat me this way; your wife?! What’s wrong with you?!!’ And then… I didn’t know what to do: I wanted so much to hurt him, to make him suffer, standing there all smug with his dick dribbling all over our carpet. But more than that, I wanted to protect myself, to purify myself of the horror and degradation of it all. I wanted to show him I was better than all his filth, to save myself from where he was wanting to take me. So I shouted, 'You’ll never fuck me again, you bastard! No man will ever fuck me again. I swear, as God is my witness’; and I know I shouldn’t have sworn, Father: I shouldn’t have said anything like that, but, God forgive me, I did; 'I swear that no man will ever fuck this cunt again -or may God strike me dead!’ And then I ran out. And I never went back.

    “So now what do I do, Father? I mean, I’ve called a curse down on myself. May God strike me dead if I break my vow! that’s what I said! And, you know, I’ve stuck with it, Father. I’ve kept my vow. Ever since then, I’ve not been fucked. And that was six months ago; probably just before you came to this parish, wasn’t it?”

    Bernie paused. And Father Jim sat in the half-light, bewildered, confused, and scared. This woman must be unstable, he thought. Stark raving mad, actually. Why else would she come to the confessional to tell him, in the filthiest language imaginable; what exactly? that she had caught her husband in flagrante delicto and had now, on the rebound, forsworn sex?

    “Bernie… Bernie…” Jim fumbled for the right words. “What can I do for you? You have committed no mortal sin. You don’t need exorcism – or even confession. But do you want help? Counselling? We have a wonderful ministry here for separated and divorced Catholics: let me put you in touch with the leader, she could help you…”

    “No, Father,” interrupted Bernie firmly, “you don’t understand. I swore that I if am ever fucked again, God must strike me dead. I am under a curse, Father and I need to be released. And you are an exorcist, are you not?”

    Father Jim sat in the semi-darkness, his flaccid cock dangling out of his fly, a little droplet of pre-cum still glimmering on his glans, and he took a deep breath. “I have been receiving training, yes; but you don’t need exorcism. Your words were spoken in haste, in an understandable excess of emotion: God will not hold that against you. You need to rebuild your life, not live in fear of an imagined curse that…”


    Bernie interrupted again, even more firmly that before,

    “Pray over me now: release me from my curse. The Evil One has my cunt in his grasp. After all…”

    Beattie paused, then spoke very slowly and clearly;

    “I am a dirty, filthy, cuntfucking whore.”

    Father Jim’s heart skipped a beat. “What did you say?” he gasped.

    “I said, 'I am dirty, filthy, cuntfucking whore.’ Or, would you prefer it like this:

    'I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfucking whore, Jimmy!

    Father Jim leapt up; terrified. Now he knew he was in trouble. Who was this girl? Who was she pretending to be? Who was pretending to be whom? And what was she after? And why was she playing with him like this? What it a trap? All these thoughts raced through his mind, but he did not have time to voice any of them before Bernie’s voice (or was it Beattie’s?), cold as steel despite the muffling effect of the latticed confessional screen, said:

    "Don’t put yer cock away, Jimmy. Leave it danglin’ like the good li'l wanker you are, and join me in front of the Sacrament.”

    He heard the door on Bernie’s side of the confessional open, and her heels click-clicking across the stone floor in the direction of the altar.

    Obediently, though trembling in terror, Father Jim opened his door; and gasped. For Bernie’s tiny waif-like figure was naked now, apart from her red high heels, her tight bottom wiggling and swaying as she walked ahead of him, the wispy outline of her pubic hair just visible between her soft buttocks.

    “Do 'ye like it, Jimmy?” smirked Bernie, as she looked back over her shoulder to watch his cock, still dangling awkwardly out of his fly, begin to stiffen again. “This is whatcha wanted ta see when you followed me in here, wasn’t it? Because ye like cunt, don’t ye, Jimmy? Nuffink better than the sight of a hot cunt peeping out from between Beattie’s arse-cheeks, eh? Ye wanna fuck my cunt, Jimmy? 'Coz you can…”

    She reached the sanctuary steps, and turned to point one accusing finger at Jim as she bellowed;

    “After you fucking excercise it!”

    Beattie’s demented scream echoed off the stone walls of the church, as she backed up the three steps to the sanctuary and lifted her bottom onto the altar, carelessly scattering crucifix, sacramentary and candle-stands onto the floor. She spread her legs wide and leant back on her elbows, pert puffy tits and lightly thatched pussy-gape shamelessly displayed. Father Jim stood, horrified and transfixed in equal measure. The detritus of Beattie’s blasphemy lay scattered on the floor; but he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Oh yeah, cunt! he thought, despite himself. Yeah, hot fucking cunt!

    Beattie knew what he was thinking.

    “Do 'ye like it, Jimmy?” she breathed. “If ye wanna fuck it, get yer prayer book, and fuckin’ remove my curse!”

    Beattie began to slide one finger into her pussy, wetting it with her fuck-slime and gently rubbing her clit. Father Jim hesitated, rooted to the spot in terror, until Beattie screamed again,

    “Get yer fucking prayer book and pray my curse away, Jimmy!”

    Father Jim scrabbled through a pile of books on the front pew, retrieved a copy of Prayers Against the Powers of Darkness, and raised his right palm towards Beattie, who was now panting in ecstasy as she rubbed her clit with one hand, two fingers of the other plunging in and out of her sodden pussy.

    “Lo… Lord Jesus Christ,” stammered the priest, “I place my sister at the foot of Your cross and ask You to cover her with Your Precious Blood which pours forth from Your Most Sacred Heart and Your Most Holy Wounds. Cleanse her, my Jesus, in the living water that flows from Your Heart. I ask You to surround her, Lord Jesus, with Your Holy Light.”

    “Oh yeah, amen!”

    screamed Beattie , as a spasm went through her body; whether of spiritual battle or sexual pleasure Father did not know, but no longer cared. His words were those of prayer; but his mind was fixed on cunt.

    Cunt… oh yeah, cunt! he moaned in the silence of his heart, even as he continued to stammer: “In… in… in the… Holy Name of Jesus, I break and dissolve any and all curses, spiritual influences, evil wishes, evil desires, and every dysfunction and disease from any source including your mistakes and sins. In Jesus’ Name, I sever the transmission of any and all vows, pacts, spiritual bonds and satanic works.”

    “Fuck yeah!”

    screamed the girl, as another spasm passed through her body. Three slimy fingers were now pounding in and out of her cunt, as the other hand rubbed frantically at her clit.

    Father Jim’s cock was stiff and throbbing again; but with one hand holding his prayer book and the other extended towards Bernie, he could not touch it, but continued to read with a trembling voice: “In the Name of Jesus, I lift this curse. I thank You, Jesus, for setting my sister free. Fill her with charity, compassion, faith, gentleness, hope, humility, modesty, tranquillity, truth, understanding, and wisdom. Help her to walk in Your Light and Truth, illuminated by the Holy Spirit so that she may praise, honour, and glorify Our Father in time and in eternity.”

    “Fuck yeah, Jesus!”;

    screamed Bernie, as her whole body shook from head to toe, four fingers now forming a blur as they pounded in and out of her cunt.

    “Free me, Jesus! Free my fucking cunt! Oh fuck! “

    Father Jim’s cock was sticking horizontally out of his fly, throbbing with wild desperation. Pre-cum dribbled down his shaft; but still he did not touch, as he continued to stretch out his right hand in prayer: "For You, Lord Jesus, are the Way, and the Truth, and the Life, and You have come that we might have life, and have it to the full.”

    Bernie’s whole fist was now pounding in and out of her cunt, her fuck-lips stretched wide in agony and ecstasy as she screamed,

    “Depart from me, Satan! Oh, I’m cumming! Oh yeah!”

    Juice squirted from her cunt, across the floor and down the stone altar steps, splattering Father Jim’s shoes and trouser-legs.

    “Surely God is my salvation,” intoned the priest, lips and hands trembling but his cock throbbing nevertheless. “I will trust and not be afraid. The Lord, the Lord himself, is my strength and my defense; he is my salvation.”

    “Amen… Amen…”

    whispered Bernie as she slowly withdrew her slimy hand from her cunt, her fuck-lips stretching wide, leaving her pussy gaping, her pink flesh glistening in front of Father Jim’s face. The priest lowered his right hand, then stood, staring, bewildered, drained; but his cock still stiff and dribbling.

    Bernie, had a wild deranged smile spreading across her face.

    “I’m free, Father,” "Jesus has set me free from my curse!“

    Jim stared in horror. Bernie’s face was luminescent, demented. But her cunt shone with a different kind of gleam; and Jim could not tear his eyes away from it.

    "I can fuck again, Father,” "My cunt is free again: look!“

    She spread her pussy-lips wide, so that Jim could stare into her pink gloopy bubbling depths. And then she said the inevitable:

    "Now fuck me, Jimmy…”

    Father Jim gripped his cock with his right hand, even as his left held his prayer book tight. He was scared; terrified of what he had just done, and of what this deranged troubled girl was now telling him to do. He knew this was all wrong. But the scent of frigged-out cunt, the sight of that glistening pink fuck-flesh, and the sound of her sultry voice breathing at him, were too much to withstand.

    “Fuck me, Jimmy,” “Fuck my hot cunt. 'Coz I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfuckin’ whore. And you like dirdy fuckin’ whores, don'tcha? You wanna fuck my filfy cunt wiv yer big cock?”

    Father Jim nodded, mutely, his right hand gripping his shaft. His prayer book slipped subconsciously from his left hand, landing in a little puddle of pussy-squirt on the stone floor.

    “Come on Jimmy,” breathed Beattie. “Don’t be scared. My cunt’s all safe now. No curse no more. And I’ve been waitin’ for this for so long, Jimmy. Every fuckin’ Friday night I’ve had my fingers up my cunt, rubbing myself off for ye, listening to ye spurt your hot cum all over yer wank-mags. Now it’s time for you to fuck my cunt for real, Jimmy!”

    “Wh… who are you?” stammered Father Jim. “Why me?”

    Beattie spread her cunt-lips again.

    “Later, Jimmy, later,” "Now fuck me.“

    Trembling, Father Jim walked up the three stone steps to the edge of the altar, where Beattie sat, her legs spread wide, still adorned by her red high heels, her cunt pungent, oozing, inviting. He nudged his bulging cockhead against her cunt-lips, and pushed.

    "Oh God!” He could not resist calling out; for here, now, for the first time ever, was something he had fantasised about all his life. He felt Beattie’s soft moist velvety depths yield and engulf him, felt her juices gently coat the length of his shaft, felt her inner cunt muscles squeezing, caressing. And then he started to fuck; slowly at first, relishing the heavenly-hellish feeling of her slip-slimy walls stroking the full length of his shaft as it slid all the way out, then in, and then again, and again, each new thrust taking his cock to a new level of pleasure, and his mind closer and closer to ecstasy.

    “Is 'at good for ye, Jimmy?” “You lifted my curse, Jimmy. I knew you could, Mister Father James Wright! From the first time I saw yer card details I knew you were the one to save me. Giles and Vicky can go fuck themselves: 'coz I got a priest to set my cunt free!”

    Jimmy knew deep down that this girl was mad, that he had been trapped, and that this meant the end of everything he had ever truly valued: his vocation, his career, his friendships, his reputation. But… cunt. Cunt. This was not like jerking off over his magazines on Friday night. This cunt was real; and truly, he saw that it was good. Beattie was now talking to him the way he could never resist:

    “Feel how fuckin’ wet my cunt is, Jimmy? That’s what you do to me, babe. You’re gonna make me come, Jimmy, 'coz I’m a dirdy, filfy, cuntfuckin’ whore, and I’m gonna fuckin’ come all over your big cock!”

    By GrushaVashnadze for Literotica.

    Make Out Like You Mean It

    Make Out Like You Mean It
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