I slipped into the canvas tent; the joyful noise washed over me like a heavy surf. XXNX I walked to her, brushing a strand of hair that stuck to her face. The Devil’s Pact, The Ghost of Paris
by mypenname3000
edited by Master Ken
Copyright 2014
Chapter Five: The Sunday Service
Sunday, September 15th, 2013 – Paris, Texas
The joyful noise bled through the walls of the tent—the home of the Paris Revival for Christ. “Sweet, fuckin’ Jesus!” she groaned. Her hips shook, writhing on my face, and she moaned louder and louder as I really dug my tongue into her hole. “God is with us!” her husband called out. She looked a youthful thirty, her figure sleek beneath a long, floral skirt and modest white blouse. Pound my snatch! Her tongue was eager, tasting her own juices on my face as she passionately moaned.
