1. Paddy Gets A Wake Up Visit Part Three


    Date: 8/2/2016, Categories: Mature, Author: WobieTide, Rating: 1, Source: LushStories

    exquisite pleasure over the blood engorged dome. "Will you spunk for me, Mr Murphy?" My fist rose again on my raging prick. "Will you spunk for me if I let you see my tight little arsehole?" I abandoned all hope of resisting and began pumping my fist up and down on my hard prick. "Will you, Mr Murphy?" "Yes, yes I will, I'll spunk for you Tina," I said to my imaginary lover. "That's it, Mr Murphy. Look at my tight fucking arsehole while you spunk up my hot cunt." "I am, I am looking at your tight little arsehole," I assured her. I was rapidly stroking my prick now, wanking furiously on my erection as I recalled vividly the wondrous sight of Tina's arsehole stretched so wide by her own fingers that I could see the buttonhole entrance to her forbidden rectum. "Oh yes, Mr Murphy, fill my wet cunt with your hot spunk," I heard her say clearly, her provocative pleas reverberating in my filthy mind, while pumping rapidly on my prick, feeling myself building to a glorious orgasm. "Oh yes, take it Tina, take my hot spunk up your wet cunt, you fucking slut, spread your arsehole for me while I empty my bollocks up your slimy fuckhole, you filthy bitch." "Yes, yes, Mr Murphy, I am your bitch, I am your slut, fill me up you dirty bastard, flood my twat with your creamy spunk, empty your balls into me, you dirty old fucker, fill my wet South African cunt with your hot Irish cream." I heard my beautifully vulgar fuck slut encourage me eagerly. I came violently, my spunk shooting out of my ...
    prick in spurts of wondrous pleasure, the warmth of my ejaculation spreading over my belly under the sheet and gluing it to my hot skin as I slowly recovered, my heart rate slowing to a more sedate pace while I lay there, luxuriating in the magnificent release I had just self induced. I lay like that for a long moment, recalling my imaginary filthy conversation with my beloved Tina, not knowing where half the words had come from and it was several moments before the initial pangs of shame and guilt began to slowly seep into my conscience. It was Sunday and getting to mass was no problem as there were hourly services in any one of several churches within a half hour walk of my apartment. I rose from the bed slowly, sedately, an automaton, un-peeling the sheet from my sticky abdomen where my semen was slowy drying to a hard coating on my skin. At that moment, I had considered myself beyond redemption, I had no heart for attending mass, but in desperation I was clinging to the hope that I could still turn back, could still redeem myself. I would have to attend a mass for which I felt ultimately unworthy of participating in, but it was my only hope. So, after a morning and afternoon of soul-searching, I forced myself to shower and dress in my Sunday best suit, shirt and tie and went to the evening service. I sat in my usual spot in the pews, third row from the altar, right on the end by the aisle. Here I could concentrate on the service without distraction as few people sat any ...
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