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The Flaming Tongue

2022-05-11 00:00:04


A Story of the Cross

By Roger and Phyllis 2020

The crew worked a late night and into the early morning to insure the life-sized icon of Christ on the Cross was erected and ready for the Sunday service. ”Phil!” cried out one of the work crew from the floor of the church, “be sure the nuts are tight…we don’t want the damn thing falling down like it did last time.”

Phil was working up the high ladder affixing the icon of Christ on the Cross to the wall behind the pulpit. Good old Phil, now half asleep at the early hour, nodded, reached in his back pocket, withdrew his flask for a little fortification and carelessly tightened only one of the nuts to the restraining bolts. Phil thought, as the liquor warmed him: I mean there are already enough supports for the thing anyway and it was good enough as it was. Phil ruminated if God wanted it to stay up there then it would, otherwise it would all go to Hell anyway. Phil chuckled at his sacrilegious invocation of God and descended the ladder, anxious for another pull on his hip flask. He didn’t notice, or care, that his descending heaviness stepping down shook the tall ladder and also caused the icon to tremble. He was on a diet, as always.

Disassembling the ladder and other gear, Phil and the crew began to leave the church through the side entrance. They had worked all night and stepped out into the bright glow of early morning noticing the approaching comely lass, camera on her shoulder. The morning sun behind her was offering the workmen an alluring silhouette of the lithe female frame beneath her dress; attracting their leering stares and enhancing their natural sexual appetites. The day was already warm and the men were wiping their brows. Our photographer had dressed accordingly for her photo safari looking to capture the inner beauty of the various churches and their blessed icons.

With all the walking she had done this morning she was glad for having dressed smartly, simply, coolly: only a flaring cotton dress, without more...and sandals, of course. Silhouette be damned...a woman in full....! Yes, she always had to be careful how she sat down or crossed her legs, not wanting to give some admiring males a free show of her naked cunt...cunny...her shaved minge...her alluring quim! She loved the different slang terms for her vagina...her female slit...each term applauding its importance...her “object of desire”...let them guess and admire what she did show and let them dream of her hidden charms...the beauty and lure of her hairless, often wet, cuntal slit...the object of sexual pleasure and the sensual prize at the apex of her slender legs to be delightfully licked and probed by a wandering hand, often enough her own, or a man’s turgid prick, which wasn’t often enough. She loved to laugh and she was a little devilish. It was her sense of herself and she was a bit of a tease she admitted, smiling at her own playful nature...just thinking of sexy things made her shaved cooze vibrate and pulse...and she could feel herself getting slick when she walked, sat or crossed her legs...or opened them...the coolness..

She caught the church door closing just as Phil was leaving, telling him: "I just want to take some pictures.” Phil held the door and had a good leer at her...she is a pretty one...very fuckable... he thought... laughingly adding: "The guy hanging up there is almost naked, Sweetie." She and the crew chuckled at Phil, always the comedian. It was true of course, except for some nails and a loin cloth the icon was displayed without accoutrements up there on the cross.

The young woman, when she entered, realized her timing was perfect as the rising sun was already casting beams of light illuminating the stained glass in a reverent glow, the beams florescent, crisscrossing from the windows on opposite sides, across the pews showing the dust in the air moving in natural currents, bringing the interior structure alive; the sound of her sandals on the tile floor making faint echoes as she approached the pulpit, looking up at the hanging figure in the light from yet another window behind it; the light embraced the figure making it seem to have a celestial, angelic, even erotic glow, after all the icon was of a virtually naked once virile slender male, his virility only modestly concealed. Momentarily there flashed in her mind what treasures might be seen if the loin cloth was removed...and if she were to expose herself to his view. She was suddenly feeling aroused for no reason at all. I mean, she was a photographer, not a seductress, but those were her quick visions. Ha! If, only...

She sat in a pew to collect her thoughts and prepare her photographic equipment. She spread her legs, luxuriating in the private setting, letting the coolness of the church air travel along the naked outstretched limbs to her damp quim...she couldn’t help but shiver and have lewd thoughts whenever that happened. It excited her sexual senses

She smiled at her feelings and fell to a dreamlike state in the vast church, thinking of Christ, and Mary of Magdala in the Holy Land: Mary in her simple frock, not unlike our photographer in her cotton dress, Jesus away preaching to his flock. She imagined that a spiritual, sensual woman that was Mary, like her, had a naughty streak...and certain that Mary would also go naked beneath her simple clothing of the time...and likewise yield to available temptations of the flesh...the embracing hands and cocks seeking to fuck her young cunt. It had to be true she thought as it was in human nature: eager cunts and their counterpart..thirsting erections. Passions and pleasures were surely afoot in those times as now though more repressed these days by the church...pity...that... she thought...she was full of passions...and a devilish lot that a church would find to repress.

She continued her thoughts along those lines: Mary would have no doubt daily arisen early to milk the goats and enjoy the company of the young people who would gather to receive playful squirts as she milked the teats of the goats’ swollen udders. Massaging the teats to finally produce the nourishing fluids. As she stroked and milked the goats Mary would imagine her own joy when massaging other appendages such as the cock of Christ, stroking his most precious particular part first to a precum response and then milking his cock until it was cumming its delicious semen into her pretty little welcoming mouth...licking with her tongue the excess dribbling on her lips. The joy they shared as he would cum for her and following the dictates of his preachings he would then do unto her alike as she had done him...that Golden Rule in action, ... reciprocating with a loving cunnilingus making her cum in turn, both of them going wet from their delights, both bodies eager, ready for their later nocturnal fucking, if they could restrain themselves until then, that would follow beneath the fertile olive branches of their garden...they aptly called it their “fuck garden.” It later was Christened as another name though Christ and Mary had laughingly “Christened” every [fucking] tree with their overflowing copious sex fluids, not to mention “those overflows several times with the ass” that Mary later recalled but have been obscured in history..

When milking the flock Mary would pull on a goat teat and aim and provide a squirt into the open mouths of some of the watching young people pretending the fluid was the holy sperm of Jesus. The male goats would also gather and observe the milking, the female goats unconsciously presenting themselves during the milking task to the lascivious males.

The males would often mount and fuck the females during milking with their finished dripping cocks dangling for all to see. Some of the watching young people would suck on the goat teats to get the milk directly from the teat and there were seen at the same time the throbbing male goat cocks. As a matter of course some watchers tried sucking on those, too, for the juices, thus stimulating their goat cocks for more fucking. The males were excited and even Mary found herself aroused and sucking on goat cocks. While doing so, in her tiny frock, she was also presenting and another male goat would climb on her back for insertion and a gratifying fuck...Mary couldn’t wait for the morning goat milking and fun was had by all.

Mary was shocked at first when a goat mounted her but it was so quick and wet and entered her cunt so easily, stabbing her to her depth that she lost her breath in an erotic explosion of feeling that made her cry out in amazement that such a quick fucking had made her shake and quiver. She was suddenly anxious for every next morning’s milking. Her young body thirsted for more. The others watching it all and witnessing Mary’s pleasure naturally joined in.

The following morning, the forbidden memory swirling in her head, Mary began milking the goats, this time knowingly presenting herself to the males withal. The males first fucked among the milked females. Mary wondered if her previous morning’s joy had been a one time thing when a male began sniffing her cunt and then leaped on her back stabbing his cock into her...a new shock...for he had penetrated her rear and startled the young Mary. She had been an anal virgin to that point...alas it was too late to redirect the assault and the vigorous impaling animal brought forth a little pain but then pleasure overflowed her body again as on the morning before. A second goat then took his turn with her, fucking her cunt deeply and causing Mary to cum again. She could hardly wait to confide in Jesus her latest naughty pleasures.

Following Mary’s lead and observing her ecstasies soon the watching young women were presenting themselves for morning goat fuckings and suckings...both males and females without inhibitions or restraints were fucking and being fucked by goats and fucked among each other, too. Mary often helping the uninitiated into joyous rapturous sex and partaking herself of the better endowed...when Jesus was away as he often was...She couldn’t help herself. She had discovered joy in the remote village.

Beside that it was no secret that Jesus rode a white ass...a handsome male with large scrotum and concealed treasure of a cock.. It was quite by accident that the ass was near them during one of their intimate fuck sessions in the olive garden. The ass in a kind of imitation of the erotic scene had its large prick protruding out in all its glory...a marvel in terms of size for Mary who jokingly compared the size of the ass’s with that of Jesus. Mary then confided with Jesus all about her goat milking and goat gang-fucking experiences; how, by accident of course, the male goats would mount her and fuck her vaginally and anally because their aims were careless; how she was initially shocked and alarmed at the sexual attentions but had grown to enjoy both penetrations in equal measure; that she enjoyed the morning milkings, cummings and being milked! That it was all spontaneous, exciting and fulfilling.

It provoked a session of joking between the two and Jesus challenged her to try his ass...“try him on for size.” “Only if he insisted and assisted,” she joked “only if he helped.” Together they stroked the ass’s member to full erection, Mary leaned over the rock wall presenting her naked bottom holes for Jesus and his ass to penetrate her willing body. Jesus stroked Mary’s cunt until her lips pulsed and helped his ass’s front hooves to straddle her body leaning on the wall. He directed that large cock to her opening, massaging her lips with it then, encouraging the animal into further penetration of his darling’s womb. The ass’s cock throbbed, Mary’s cunt pulsed, dilated, slowly accepting the animal’s girth and length into her slender frame, lifting as it entered, and entered deeper, the ass beginning to fuck, fuck deeply with urgency as her enveloping cunt walls massaged and stimulated the animal’s lustful thrusts. She let out her breath and then cried out as she grew possessed by a soul-shattering orgasm...screaming her pleasure, she saw stars, and awakened the nesting birds who noisily fluttered with alarm as Mary cried out again...her cries always frightening the birds. Mary’s body taken away in the grip of unrestrained emotion, shaking, trembling in feelings, tears in her eyes, and down her cheeks, her soul in uncontrolled fervor. The ass finally withdrew, still squirting out his cum. His sperm and Mary’s spend spilled all around the roots of a particular olive tree. That tree became their “ass’s tree.” It grew especially robust fruit and they went near it every time thereafter that the ass fucked her, which he often did.

Jesus would hold her against his body as she was weak from the ass fucking, calming her, his hard prick smoothing her cunt which was inflamed...the ass licking himself and the birds settling back. Mary was delirious, kissing Jesus on the lips, hands all over his back...and front. She begged him to finish her for a final little satisfying cum, , which he did. He was a good man and loved fucking her. Mary was, after all, a prime supporter and also, among the disciples, the only one with a cunt.

Our by now very wet and dreaming female photographer roused herself from the pew and her erotic reverie. She thought the large church was just the ideal desired background for the great priestly wisdoms and admonitions soon to flow from the expected sermon...surely including stories of Christ on the Cross and possibly including the juicy part: of the involvement of Mary of Magdala and Christ...how they loved to lips kiss and cuddle... but excluding the hidden Biblical stories of their incessant lips kissing, their fucking in the garden, Mary’s anal initiation, the ass, the goats...it all could have made a best-seller...not. Surely there were more hidden stories, she thought, as she walked among the pews...

Yes,lips kissing and the usual follow-ups: the savior’s stiff cock, the aroused Mary sucking his cock and the fucking that naturally followed. What must it have been like: fucked by Christ...Mary licking the cum from his glistening softening prick...surely aroused by the licking, Jesus fucking, pricking her, again. Christ was an ardent soul and surely fucked his special Mary with great ardor. He loved the way she milked his cock, how she responded when he pounded inside, deeply and she would, in her multiple-cummings, quiver and shake and cry out with guttural utterings, her gruntings of ecstasy...her screams of orgasm echoed in their special cave and thrilled all who heard the cries, making the bats fly about.

Jesus fucked his Mary until figuratively her soul had liquefied, exited her body, was yet a pulsing, dripping, clinging, living thing, wrapped around his driving cock, only returning to her body when she removed its wetness lickingly from his cock with her tongue...with each swallow his semen nourishing, replenishing, resurrecting her soul. How dreamy, the camera woman thought, as her cunt had creamed along with her imagination... but she had work to do as emotionally hot as she was just then. She wished for such an erotic golden rule to enter her life...even if it was there and then with some horny priest for a one time thing of her own. She had no idea her thoughts were about to come true in different form. The devil with all that, she thought! She had some pictures to take.

The woman unshouldered her camera, removed the lens cover and began choosing her position, imagining the framing for the most dramatic shots. She looked through the eyepiece for the best shot...from the front or side? With the pulpit as foreground or from the floor beneath the cross looking up, the icon in its morning glow from the window behind? She scooted down lying on her back, viewed up through the eyepiece...the pulpit was in her way. Could she move it for a better view? She put the camera down and, with effort, moved the heavy pulpit aside, then got back down on the floor in perfect camera position under the cross, her legs wide apart in an unladylike position, steadying herself with her hands but exposing her cunt...she didn’t care as it would just be a few minutes of her nakedness in the private setting. Perfect for the shot! aiming upward, framing it through the eyepiece.. .but...

She hadn't noticed that struggling and moving the solid pulpit’s base across the floor had shaken the cross which had been insecurely affixed by the morning crew. She positioned for the shot not noticing that, yes, the living Christ on the cross was about to come dramatically alive as if the devil objected to the movement! And with a sudden movement, twisting upside down on its single support bolt; a jolting, ripping sound it did just that at the very 1/50th of a second when the woman squeezed off her first shot. As the shutter clicked, moments later, she found herself impaled by the face down cross embedded in the floor between her spread open legs, her shaved cunt open to view...the icon’s face as though, innocently and chastely of course, violating her privacy and whipping her head back against the tile knocking her silly, the camera sliding from her hand to the floor, the shutter clicking off a random shot.

And there she laid in a daze as the crashing noise echoed along the church walls seeming to call out a great choir as the dust danced in the beams of colored light...it was a scene almost of holiness, of reverence, of the nature of a furious God or God knows what....or Devil may care. The nice woman laying there unconscious in mid-photo session, the cross between her outstretched legs, and the downside head of the icon as though in a cold stare at the exposed beauty of the woman's private parts, the eyes in His face looking directly at “her” in a state of celestial awe as one might imagine He would be in a kind of anticipatory seduction. She was already hot, primed, from her musings after all. She was, in a sense, ready, if alive and so close to nature's beauty in open display. His lips and hers juxtaposed.

She lifted her head, about to rise, looked at her feet and the face between but to no avail. Where was she and where was Jesus for she saw between her outstretched legs not the face of Jesus but felt a fire that heated her loins. It was a leering red face she saw, smiling, a forked tongue licking her face, her arms, arm pits, along her sides, her breasts and nipples, the open lips of her cooze, the forks of that tongue enclosed on her clitoris..more lickings, her neck was hot, sweating, her breasts heating, she rubbed her breasts and nipples, stiff and aflame. She felt a consuming body heat building within; with all the licking her body juices flowing now, a fire in her loins needing quenching, her cheeks hot...that terrible forked tongue was surrounding her clit deliciously sending undiscovered thrills through her limbs...She felt possessed by feelings, emotions overflowing, and that unrelenting forked tongue on her clit incessant heating, boiling.

She suddenly irresistibly released, her body convulsed in shock, lifting off the floor, losing herself and all control, her inhibitions vanished yielding to a wave of feeling from her depths...her cunt was impaled by something hot, delightful, thrilling, awful...taking her, fucking her, fucking her! Penetrating deep. all of her in a pulsing feeling...a total ecstasy...taking her to an undiscovered place.

She was a thing sexual: ascending to sexual repression and guilt or descending to sexual expression and joy. Her body shook, released again...she was creaming, spending copiously, cumming with abandonment and couldn’t stop cumming...she wanted cumming forever...surrounded in heat, ecstasy, joy...her soul had yielded into the world of Satanic sin in a cooze incarnate, a pussy grand, an eager cuntal being who fucked and sucked and fucked some more. She felt her flesh...she was on fire, a blaze...a hot, smoldering real woman all aglow in her womanness! Sexual heat had ignited her desire and kindled the devil’s wickedness and...the devil’s forked tongue of fire starting with its irresistible, seductive licking, encircling of her clitoris...that forked tongue had entered her body, insinuating itself along her cunt walls, searching deeply, finding and massaging her vital spot, her female essence...caressing that secret place that took her away to unimaginable rapture and joy...that tongue had found and loved the spot in every woman, concealed to all but those who want to create...the sexually arousing erotic birth canal, a holy place of pleasure...the Devil’s dwelling, the Devil’s place of desire...once having tasted of the forbidden place a woman knew the secret of life and the essence that was ecstasy...the eros of dreams and incantations. Any woman would strive to return to that place of the devil once having been.

It wasn’t her fault she remembered. She rationalized her situation. She had been imprisoned by the cross, exposed, made vulnerable by her nakedness; her cunt exposed and ready for licking, already moist. Then she was seduced as any woman would have been by the hot forked red tongue that had taken her away from herself. She wasn’t reacting, she was just “being,” had become a being, a feeling, an animal instinctual. She was somehow another living thing than herself...she was a wholly new pulsing, thrashing, cumming thing. An out of body magnificent lewdness, she made strange sounds, her eyes afire, her cheeks red, and felt strange things in her body, her cunt was on fire and thirsted for more stimulation, she thirsted for all sex, clutching, feelings that were indescribable ...and a religious joy, experiencing a delighting and uncontrollable rapture...the licking, the cumming, the penetrating fucking of her body and mind. She was in a gulf, drowning in sexual emotions...part of a devouring whirlpool...swirling about her down and down...drowning, dizzy.

She had to collect her senses a little more and lay back, resting. It was virtually but not obscene she thought in this holy place, the image of the red face staring at her nakedness. Then she began to feel a kind of humor in the scene. After all she was lucky to be unscathed, just a bump on the head. She was dizzy, mind spinning but clearing; she had captured a stunning photo though she was herself stunned and so she rested, a smile on her lips as she licked her lips. She imagined the vastness of the setting...the near-naked icon, life-sized, admiring her sexuality with a passionate intensity and she felt His passion embrace her senses. His spirit filled her essence. Then while in this restful repose she felt her face blush and then a familiar warmth in her body traveling down her neck, arms and legs, a warm glow washing over her breasts and further down, a slow building emotion, a heating of her body whole...vibrant and vital, now feelings that made her gasp and smile and released her to a relaxed and dreamy state. Finally her staggered breath left and her chest stopped heaving, she opened her mouth and inhaled deeply as her senses returned. She sat up, got to her knees, gathered her camera, straightened her dress. She then exited the church as she had entered, through the side door Phil had held open for her commenting on the near naked man inside now upside down and in a devilish position.

As she walked out on the church patio in the warm morning she felt a familiar coolness and paused to reflect on her experience in the church and the icon. She felt a certain impishness as the words occurred to her: Had she just had a "come to Jesus" moment or had she somehow come with Him? She walked on, luxuriating in that coolness as she shivered just a little with each step, the camera bouncing on her hip, chuckling to herself...wondering, if you’ve been fucked by the devil, the devil with fucking?

At home she went to her dark room to develop the film, placing it in the developing fluids and waiting for the image to appear. Slowly, as she watched, a face appeared: a red face, horns, a forked tongue staring at her. Her knees suddenly weakened and she sat down. The red face was in a smile and a leer. She was transfixed by the image staring at her.

Without thinking her hands went under her dress, caressing along her bare legs to her cunt. She was suddenly hot again and in a building heat. Her breasts were hot even in the cool darkroom and her fingers were at work on her cunt. She quickly flexed and came...her fingers continued, looking at the forked tongue, the devil’s smiling face. She came again and couldn’t stop cumming. She was exhausted from all the cumming. Her final thoughts as she finally slept were that she couldn’t wait to wake up and feel herself more. She couldn’t stop fucking herself and...she couldn’t stop cumming...over and over again...She laid her head back and finally slept, exhausted. She had never cum like this before. She thought it might be fun to have a pet goat, for her yard and other things. She didn’t understand how the devil she was cumming so much and so hard...it was all a dream...that dream in the church... wasn’t it?