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Mary's voice was barely a whisper as she stood before Father John, overcome by memories of her son, the punishments she'd meted out to him -- and their results. She shivered unconsciously as she gazed down at the priest's tumescent organ, mere moments from living out a fantasy she'd never imagined could come true.

"Do you know where that nasty spunk belongs, Father? It's a sin to spill your seed on the ground, the Bible says. There is a sacred place for it, you see. A place meant for a man to do the deed. Our bodies are our temples as you well know. Aye, Father. It's my duty to show you where that place is and teach you how to worship there -- and well."

She looked around the small study toward the settee. That would do nicely, she thought as she watched his eyes take in her near-naked form. "Do you like it then?" Her eyes became dreamy as she ran her fingers over her brassiere. Her nipples, hard as diamonds, jutted through the thin material aching for attention.

"I suckled my boys long after they walked. Harry disapproved. He thought they were only meant for him. Do you think that was right, Father John?" Mary slowly reached behind and unclasped her bra, letting the straps fall down over her arms as she pulled it free of her heavy breasts.

"Come. Tell me if these were not meant for suckling." The look in her eyes had changed again. This time they held an almost maniacal gleam -- or was that purely lust?

Mary nodded approvingly as Father John shuffled closer, his ankles hobbled by his trousers. "Touch them, Father. Taste them. Tell me if Harry was mistaken."

Father John timidly raised his hands, and taking a breast in each began to suckle his housekeeper's teats. Mary moaned softly as his lips closed over the puckered areolae and his tongue lashed across her stiff buds.

She felt his manhood, hard and strong, jutting against her belly and longed to fondle him but she resisted. She had other things in mind. "Touch me," she whispered. "Touch my cunny. But no cumming for you, mind. You must learn to keep your lustful thoughts under control."

Yes, she would teach him. It was her duty, just as it was his to be penitant. Mary Stafford moaned again as the diligent Father's hand snuck between her legs, encountering the wetness that had saturated the gusset of her panties.

"Take them down."