Learn about Carol

"Just relax, Carol," you tell the young naked woman shivering on your cock. "You're here with me, now. You're safe."

Carol smiles, as one smiles when a burden has been lifted. She sobs slightly. "Fucking, God. Fucking, God," She mutters softly.

"Um, how old are you, Carol?" You ask.

"I turned 23 last week, Father," she says. She starts trying to ride you again, slowly.

"Don't call me Father," you chide her gently.

"Sorry," she says, a little too urgently. "Please don't make me leave. I need to be filled with God," she pleads.

"You do know I'm not God, right?"

"Cock is my God," she says, as though reciting something. "I yearn for it to grace my womb with its warm and liquid blessing."

"You're pretty... devout, I take it?"

"Yes, Master," she says, humping you.

"Carol, please knock it off with that."

"No, please," she begs. "I came to you specifically for religious guidance. I can't just call you by name."

You sigh. "'Sir' will do for now," you say.

Carol smiles at you hopefully. "Thank you, sir." She rises and falls on your cock. "Please fill me with your seed, sir. I wish to be blessed."

You gently grasp the outside of Carol's arms. "Slow down, Carol. Things will be okay. Er, you're... with God now," you say, clumsily improvising. "And God works in ways both fast and slow. And I've been, er, giving service a lot today, so it may take time for, uh, the spirit to move me again."

It's all you can do to keep from wincing, but Carol takes this all on board without question. "Yes, sir. Of course sir. Your testimonials did say how hard you work as a man of God, how generous you are to the needy." She blushes. "I am in so much need, Sir. I will do whatever it takes for you to give me your blessing." Her pupils dilate and her breathing speeds up: she is really getting in to this.

You look at Carol. Inasmuch as someone who can't wear clothing can possibly be, she is extremely well dressed. Her accessories scream with the moneyed background. "God loves all women," you start, fishing around for the right thing to say. "Er, and it comes in many forms. God is everywhere, Carol, and... if, you don't mind me saying so, you don't seem like the sort of woman who would have had trouble finding Cock."

Carol blushes, and smiles. "You can say that again. I was filled by Cock twice just on the way to meet you, Sir. Wherever I am, Cock is there with me, my constant companion to fill me with strength and life," she enthuses. She seems to genuinely mean it, but it also sounds rehearsed. She continues to slowly rise and fall on your shaft.

"That's lovely to hear, Carol," you say slightly mindlessly as you adjust once more to the norms of this world. "But if you don't mind my asking, why would such a devout and... well-brought up woman such as yourself, have such trouble... getting religious guidance?"

Carol's face warped into a mask of misery, and she started to blubber. She squeezed your pole tightly inside her, and she wept openly. "I'm so ashamed. I will tell you everything. But please don't send me away. I have nothing. I don't want to be shut out from Cock. Your profile said that you are liberal minister. I don't know who else to turn to. Please, I need your Cock," she said, placing her hands on your chest.

If Carol weren't so hot, and weren't giving you the slow fuck of a lifetime... and weren't touching your chest like that... her distress might have killed the mood. But on the other hand, she is literally begging for your cock, which makes it easy to say very hard inside of her. You felt yourself throb when she said that, and Carol noticed too: she's panting rapidly, still in a miserable state, but also in something of a trance, staring at you with glassy eyes. She's the very picture of lust-filled desperation.