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His Last Supper

Updated: Apr 11, 2020

His Last Supper 

I had to be horny right?  Why else was I sitting on the sacred desk with my ushers’ uniform hitched to my waist and this, "anointed man of god’s" head between my legs partaking of the sacred supper of the Nile? 

But there was nothing… Just his slurping, moaning and me… checking out the accolades on his brown paneled walls.  I wondered if he’d locked the door?  That thought actually did excite me, the thought of being caught, but not enough to enjoy this, "forbidden act,” that we were indulging in....

I was thinking about God and wondering was he enjoying this show or was he going to strike us down in his holy house?  Strike us down in the same way he struck down Onan for not wanting to cum inside of his brother’s wife.  I guess I better make sure I cum in his mouth so God can enjoy this show and slayeth me not. 

Yet, nothing... I still wasn't horny and nowhere near releasing fluids into his slurping greedy mouth.  I grabbed his head and tried to guide him to the right spots to ignite a spark but it was useless. 

I heard the choir winding down and knew it was almost time for this head between my legs to rise and take the podium.  So I stopped him.  He looked at me perplexed; lips shining from his saliva.  I said, 

"It's time for you to go into the Chapel" 

He rose from his knees and went to kiss my lips; I turned my head and gave him cheek.  He couldn't kiss to save a baby kitten.  He grabbed a few napkins to erase the evidence, as I pulled up my white tights and pulled down my crisp white uniform. 

"Are you gonna be in the pulpit today? " he asked. 

"Yes, I'll have your tea, honey and one sugar."

He put on his robe and headed out to communion Sunday…  not knowing, he’d actually just had his last supper. 


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