AVAILABLE FORMATS: MSWord (DOC) PDF MSReader (LIT) Text
This site is owned by Fiction4All You can buy this book NOW and download it immediately after payment. If you are a PAYPAL Account Holder you can pay using PAYPAL. Alternatively we accept credit or debit cards. Just click on the banner below
SYNOPSIS
When newly ordained priest, Rory O’Toole arrived at the sleepy country parish of St. Valentines, he expected nothing more that a gentle introduction into church life. But the handsome young curate was destined to spend most of his time attending, not to the pastoral needs of his flock, but to the massively repressed sexual appetites of his lady parishioners. Ladies who thought nothing of baring all, both in the vicarage and the confessional, as Rory got to grips with all his many Church Whores.
EXTRACT
The housekeeper slowly put down the magazine on the corner of the bed. I knew every page
of it back-to-front of course, I had read it so many times, but I tried to look at it as
if I had never seen it before. The title banner seemed to scream out at me, ‘Lactating
Babes’. Bridget picked the other glossy out of the case and it seemed to spill open in her
hands at the centre fold as if with a prurient will of its own. My humiliation was
complete as I stared across at the overblown figure of the nude model sprawled across the
centre pages.
“Is this the kind of women you like to look at father,” asked Bridget quietly,
she turned to the front page and read the title aloud in her soft country brogue, ‘Mature
Breast Queens’.
There was something almost reassuring in the calm tone of her voice that made
me answer truthfully, albeit after a long pause during which time I could not think of
anything better to say than, “yes.”
Bridget flicked slowly through a few pages. “I think my boobs are bigger than
all these girls, father,” she said at last. “What do you think?”
I simply could not believe what I was hearing. I had not been in the house more
than twelve hours and already I was discussing the size of the housekeeper’s tits with
her.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know Bridget,” I managed at last, trying to swallow the
coconut lodged in my throat.
Well you ought to know father,” Bridget contradicted quietly; “you had a good
enough look at them in the kitchen.”
I felt my scrotum begin to tighten and my cock slowly uncurl between my thighs
as the temperature in the room seemed to suddenly zoom to thermo-nuclear proportions.
Bridget had not reacted as I would have expected after finding the porn. No protestations
of feminine outrage, no threats to tell, no name-calling, or any of the hundred other
reactions I might have expected had I had time to think about it.
The next words Bridget spoke almost floored me.
“Would you like to see my breasts, father?”
