A few hours later ...

I am more than a little confused when I wake several hours later in the darkness of a strange room. It is only when my hand tightens around Alison's plump tit that I remember how quickly things got out of hand last night. What the fuck am I doing? As good as last night had been, I'm playing with fire fucking with my teenaged tenant, and without birth control too! What am I going to say when Alison wakes up with me in her bed and realizes what she done?

Two things keep me from slipping away, well maybe three. The first is how good her round tit feels in my hand. It's been a long time since I've had a firm young breast like this in my hand. It's also been a while since I've woken up with a raging hard-on. I'm as hard now as I was last night, and my erection is nestled like a wiener in the softest bun imaginable. The third thing is Alison's soft mumblings; she's still asleep and dreaming but I can make out a few words here and there.

“... no, please not that ... you can't I'm sworn to Jesus ...” It's clearly an erotic dream, or perhaps nightmare, and I can feel her legs twisting together as she wrestles her imaginary assailant. It is this rhythmic rocking that probably woke me in the first place. “ ... it's too big ... oh Lord, forgive me ... I can't stop him!” There's a sudden gasp and I feel Alison's fingers curl around mine on her breast.

“Mr. P?” I guess Alison isn't any more used to waking up with someone in her bed than I am.

“Yeah, Angel.” The way her body relaxes is as big a compliment as I could ever get. “Are you OK? You were having a nightmare.”

“It was the dream about Saint Ursula, I think.” Alison's deep sigh speaks volumes, this must be one of her reoccurring dreams.

“It sounded like you were being attacked.” Actually, it sounded like she was being fucked, but close enough.

“Do you know the story of Saint Ursula?” I didn't. Adventists are pretty sure that the veneration of Saints is tantamount to idol worship, so my working knowledge of the lives of saints is pretty limited. Alison must have sensed my confusion. “Ursula was a holy Saxon princess on a pilgrimage to Rome with a train of one-hundred and eleven attendants when she and her handmaidens were captured by the Huns.”

“I see.” In this context, Alison's dream makes a lot more sense. Alison's voice drops to a hushed whisper as if she is sharing a dark secret.

“The book in our school library said that the barbarian warlord ran her through with his spear when Ursula refused to submit to him, but even as sheltered as I was back then, I knew what that must mean.” The rocking of her hips picks up its pace as she relates the fate of those captured virgins. “Those chaste young women would be passed out like prizes at a State Fair, Mr. P. Each of them used by a brutal pagan warrior, stripped of their garments, deflowered and defiled ... their unprotected wombs filled with seed ... Oh, Dear Jesus, each and every one of them would be bred like two-year-old heifers before the month had passed.”

Instead of being dismayed by the fate of these captured maidens, Alison seems to be getting excited. As a test, I move my hand from her breast up to encircle her throat and her needy moan confirms my impression.

“I've had this dream so many times, Mr. P.” Alison stiffens in my arms, “Fighting to preserve my virtue ... praying for a miracle.” I tighten my fingers around her throat and reach under her waist with my other hand pushing over her belly towards her pussy. Instead of climbing on top of her I decide to take her from behind just like this.

“And are your prayers answered?” With my fingers in place to guide it, in I am now able to push the head into her hot pussy. I can't believe I'm ready to go again, I usually need a good couple days to recharge, but I am as hard as ever. I'm not proud of the fact that I am getting off on this fantasy of ****, but it is hard to deny the pulsing from penis as her tight cunt pussy squeezes it.

“No Sir, the warrior is merciless, he doesn't care about my vows of chastity.” Her words come out in an excited moan. “He plants his seed in my fertile womb, he wants my belly to swell with his child ... my breasts to fill with milk ... aaaghh!”

Empaled on my shaft, Alison wiggles and squirms but can't get away. I take her hard and fast, perhaps as excited by the fate of the virtuous Ursula and her many handmaidens as she is. I can well imagine a virile pagan warrior eager to breed his newly acquired **** claiming her in a way that can never be denied.

“Are you fertile?” I ask, coarsely. “When my sperm pumps into your womb, will there be a ripe egg ready for my swimmers to impregnate?” This last reminder is what sends Alison into her climax, her hips buck, and her fingers claw at my arm but even as she wails in despair, I feel her pussy flood my cock with hot juices. My cum is quick to follow and I hold her firmly until the last bit of semen is squeezed into her pussy. We lie together in the dark for almost three minutes before we have both recovered enough to speak.

“Oh, Mr. P ...” Alison finally breaks the silence, “The things you do to me, I can't believe how good that felt. I'm such a wicked sinner.”