Spring — College Celebrations: Bethany

A divine booty eventually seeks the cracking tool

Beth's first thought on catching sight of Bernard in the vestibule was that Monsignor really needed a fag.

Beth paused like Erica and Chastity to say hi to Monsignor Bernard. 

He had suggested the Cardinal's chambers to practice her solo undisturbed. 

Bernard looked extremely exasperated dealing with two old dears arranging flowers in the vestibule. He really needed a fag now, she thought, as she headed off — acapella — in her mind.

Beth was fluttering through the Cathedral near the apse like a happy butterfly. Chas was responsible for that. Her pussy had been purred to satisfaction before breakfast.

Her only irritant right now was her choir uniform; the top so restricting, the tartan skirt was okay, but the blouse, neck to cuff, was near chaffing, and the tartan necktie; well, enough said. Still, as Chas said, it's what's underneath that counts; your undies and your pussy's intent.

Beth had a gorgeous canary yellow matching bra and knickers set. Her muffin breasts felt moist and hot, fresh from the oven.

They needed munching on, girl or boy; she wasn't fussed. 

After her music practice, she should try to find Erica and the boys' choir.

Beth was optimistic. You never knew the opportunities outside the college gates. That enclosed world of restricted, cloistered pretend virginal feminism was nearly over forever. The real world had college boys and men lurking somewhere, here, today, and she hoped Erica wasn't occupying them all.

She was thinking, still wandering, that maybe the Cardinal's chambers were in the West Wing, not the East Wing.

Then to herself — let's have a look down here.

Perhaps this afternoon, she would get some cock action. She felt ready. Guys really needed to get over her — hymen unprobed innocent face — and poke her rear end. 

She knew her coochie fairy winglets distracted the guys too quickly, but she could handle both holes getting equal attention. She would settle for unfair attention as long as her butt was included.

Her sweet little arsehole was currently awaiting action more patiently than the last cock in a bukkake line.

Chas had rimmed her backend, and boy, it was good. Beth had got her tongue tip into a few backdoors herself but wanted more. It was time for her own balloon knot to be pricked.

She squeezed her own thighs, remembering how Erica and Chas had shared a vibrator in her butt in the shower earlier in the term.

She was ready for a guy's joystick, for a cock rocket in her cornhole.

Then the present — Oh, where was this silly office to practice?

Still, she mused; she didn't want her clit to miss out. It was the most perfect piece of creation in the universe in her own mind, equal first with any cock; her clit. Maybe she would touch herself there as a cock split her bum cheeks.

There it was — West, after all.

Now Beth was happy.

The Cardinal's office was further back off a side alcove.

Bethany thought—solo practice; solo; sometimes solo was okay for sex, but paired was better. Then, her solo public performance was her moment, so serious prep was needed. This was a huge community event; parents attended, VIPs, and the Cardinal.

Knock…Knock — I am a polite girl.

Well, she was.

"Who's there?"

"Oh, excuse me," said Beth as she opened and peeked around the door, "I was told your room was available to practice my solo for the community mass. Excuse me; I didn't realise it was your eminence. Oh, I'll go elsewhere."

"No, No, please come in," the Cardinal said, going to the door to call Beth back.

His movement through his office was quicker than a peep show crotch flash.

Seeing the peaches and cream college lass back on only doubled his desire.

Front on, he had already taken in her blonde ponytail and fringe and her spongy, puffy, barely contained breasts. Her thighs were buttery smooth, and only her ankle-white socks covered her freshly shaved legs.

So cute; he already wanted to butter her hidden muff with his own cum: that was until her shapely rump, two gorgeous cushion cheeks filled his mind and raised his best friend between his own legs.

This nubile's rear cheeks were the male aspirational and inspirational but currently hidden white fleshy pure sugar-coated buttock buns.

His eminence had to have them; divide them like the Good Lord had broken bread.

He was fixated because they were perfectly balanced, proportioned female hemispheres, and he would split them. It was his personal cardinal rule of the moment, and nothing would induce him to stray from it.

Oh, his eminence had no idea of the godsend of this afternoon; Beth had wanted her arse cracked for the first time; for a while now and here was the Cardinal, hell-bent on blessing her butt with his holy semen.

Beth came back.

Innocent enough because Bernard was Bernard.

However, other religious men were well, old, safe, and trusted.

Maybe not that Father O'Flaniggan, the flasher.

This Cardinal was getting on, she told herself; harmless like her grandfather.

He offered her a seat and a glass of water.

The Cardinal may have clocked up the years, but time was no issue in his pants. His pecker was hardening like it hadn't in a long time, and Viagra-free.

He used any stratagem to get the girl close to him.

He went for the ring.

"My ring, young lady; would you like to kiss my ring," he actually had rimming and kissing her unseen ring in mind.

But first things first.

He needed her closer.

He held out his jewelled hand.

"And your name, my angel, so I can bless you."

"Bethany," she lilted like a string of musical notes.

The Cardinal's eyes gave away his intent to make her sexually hit her highest note.

Beth had that moment of clarity. Sex was here. She had the recognition of a dirty old man moment. Then moved on fast. She needed to test it.

She opened her legs out, feet pointed, skirt stretched, yellow panties visible in their flimsy, barely camel toe covering delight.

She looked at his eyes. They weren't meeting hers. It was confirmed. There was one exceptionally randy, dirty old Cardinal.

Though he was still on the other side of a huge desk.

Okay, thought Beth, let's see where it leads.

She went around the edge of his desk, and his hands directed her to sit on his thighs.

" Christ," she yelped; as she felt his mass of trapped meat squash into her butt cheeks.

The Cardinal was quickly feeling her breasts through her blouse.

He had already suspected they had that fluffy, light airiness of freshly whipped French vanilla creams.

He thought, my God, what would they be like freed from her clothes.

Well, he found out directly; they were, in fact, tasty morsels of fondling supple fondant, real-life double crème fresh, two scoops of womanhood sent from heaven just for the man of the moment, himself, as he released them and played with them.

The yellow brassiere was driving the Cardinal to distraction, along with Beth's breasts now jiggling and pushed high over her bra.

Beth's strawberry blonde hair and yellow lace, her cherry nipples and lustrous fulsome breasts, held in his hands, shaped like gravity-defying teardrops.

So sweet, so sweet, such ripe young breasts, making a senior citizen sigh and groan.

The genuine blonde fuzzy pubic hair and her shiny labial folds of intricate origami flesh were revealed as he peeled her yellow panties to one side. Delicately, his fingers spread open her inner lips; her treasure chest revealed. He manoeuvred a bit; his uncircumcised prick teased over her pubic fuzz; her mound was like the skin of a peach.

Beth looked intently at his prick.

The uncircumcised tip was a fleshy turn-on, attractive in a new way. His cock knob playing peek-a-boo; the head appearing, then disappearing in its own skin hood but glistening and firmer each time it appeared, lubricating itself like her clitty under its hood right now; as he nuzzled his cock in her personal X-rated zone.

Beth formed her own cardinal intent; butt fucking.

She stood over his blue-veined throbber, and he got the full view of her sweet back eye slice, and he speared her balloon knot with his ring finger. Beth could feel the metal tweaking around the rim of her crevice.

She encouraged him with, "Mmm, nice."

The Cardinal took in her flanking butt cheeks and the light pubes and her glistening pinkish winglets against her yellow panties but above all, he was enjoying her wriggling buttock elation; here was an angel, happy with a finger in her butthole.

"My arse, please," from Beth, and if you had a booty shot like this girl, eventually it's time for the cracking tool, and she wanted it to be memorable.

His eminence found room for a second finger in her puckering starfish; somehow, she was exceptionally tight, a miracle like the parting of the seas for Moses.

"Now and hard, thank you," Beth politely said, even when her rear broad smile was on display.

Though she turned slightly, he got the double beam of her face.

She was then guided by mature hands and bent over the large desk.

His eminence knew the thrill was in the moment of entry, the enjoyment in the moment of pushing and the pleasure, the deep pleasure in self with the first deeper thrust and the puckered withdrawal, the tightness of felt flesh shape coming first, as cock was held by her flesh. A rigid flesh rod captivated by tight butt flesh.

A woman's secret sexual wonder exposed; as male skin goes skinning in, then skin skinning out of fembutt, but; held firm, held tight, all male delight.

Bethany entered rapture.

"Ooh, my! Ooh! Ooh!"

She felt conjoined in, delighted in, held in, and moaned as the frictional tight delight repeated itself, over and over — thrust after thrust — into her expanding balloon knot.

The Cardinal squeezed into Beth's arse tighter than when he had fortuitously shared a frenzied copulation in a confessional with two nuns as a young priest; many, many years ago. 

Beth was tight.

The Cardinal enjoyed the sight of tight, but the feel of tight pleased and would endure.

Beth may or may not have a soul; in this instance, it didn't matter; the universe and her place in it was only cock in her arse.

Her Catholic upbringing lost in her the thought — If I have a soul, it is up my arsehole.

As the Cardinal plumbed her back depths, Beth thought this experience hadn't been a job for Oscar's first time out in the shed, sweet boy. 

Nor, she was glad now, deserving of Bernard because; it hit now; she had seen the Monsignor take Erica's butt in the infirmary, not hers.

She realised she wasn't ready then.

Her virginal cock butt outing was destined for and needed star treatment. She felt right; as she knew she had now joined Chas's and Erica's knowing of this; but; in her own way; this was her arse's moment, and Bethany savoured it.

She kept deliciously anticipating each deep anal thrust; held; her arse held her complete being.

"Ugh! Ugh!" sweetly released.

Still, Beth's pussy craved play time, too; it would not be denied, and she found she was teasing her clit with her fingers while her arse was pucker fucked.

"My cunt now; please," the politeness more confronting than her crude language for her fem-cavern.

She was up and pushing around with her body; clearing the table with her butt, his eminence's bronze paperweight pushed back, his silver letter opener nearly stabbing her ivory skin, a gold photo frame; holding some prior image of significance; toppled off the desk and hit the floor breaking.

There were used and unused diocese letterheads fluttering, floating momentarily, then scattering and falling, all inconsequential in the instance.

The Cardinal was currently like the chosen in the promised land. The thought of his cock being demanded elsewhere than her beautiful butthole had required a supreme act of will.

It was only the delicious sweet rudeness in her soft voice that guided his cock out of her arse; to its open-minded near neighbour, her waiting, cosy angel winged framed pussy.

Hosannah thought the Cardinal, here was Eden.

Beth's pussy was a rarely-found paradise on earth.

Her enveloping wetness provided immediate surges of male bliss, near manly over-excitement, and pleasure saturation because he was transfixed in the combined male frictional pleasure of one in sex with the fusional pleasure of two in sex — the then fissionable pleasure of his orgasm in sex and the fruition of shared pleasure in sex.

His sexual epiphany came as he heard and saw her breathing; watched her stretched lung cage; her heaving towards climax; her bouncy boobs, her writhing body, her sky-pointing clit, all Bethany.

He heard her name echo around his head; then, it was only her coochie. She was reduced to life residing between her legs; he could feel her clench, the start of her long, lush, lingering orgasm, the evidence too in her extra leak of girly liquid.

Ms Bethany Dwyer's climax growth was sensed by her first in her clit tip, the pleasure concentrated on her girly nub. It was dispensed like papal grace everywhere in her. It was fantastical, dreamlike; she had feathery spasms caught for a second or two like a dream catcher; a timbre in the moment like a reverberating wind chime, then resonant with mellifluous splurges of delight as her body was on a careening spree of hedonism.

A binge of self-satisfaction with her legs now; indecently, indecorously, carefree, wide and high; taking it all; above all, the delight of being eighteen and having a really good fuck.

"Hngh! Hngh! Hngh!"

Pleasure for the Cardinal was centred in his penis tip, held in the tip. The edge of his being was ready to explode. He did, however, want to finish in her arse.

The compassion and belief from his first ever delivered communion were there as he asked — with politeness matching hers — "Your arse, please, Ms Bethany."

Her mouth was open; her head was nodding like accepting the divine wafer; then her mouth, all gasps, as his eminence returned to her compress of tightness, her butthole.

"Orrgh! Uuhh! Ooh! Uuhh- uuhh! Ooh!"

He embraced her crack— tighter than a camel threading the eye of a needle!

His cock squeezed into nature's aperture of delight. A nubile's rilled starfish, a flexing chink of bliss, the vice grip pinhole of sodomised ecstasy. Perfect punctured patootie!

The Cardinal finally shot into Bethany's arse.

Her clench embraced the jizz injection.

"Ughh! Ughh!"

Moans and gasps.

Dual orgasms compete and complete.

They both watch as cum dribbles out her puckered, gaped freckle. 

Both are released.

He asked her to sit on his knees once he returned to his chair.

She complies.

He holds her; he only holds her.

Her arse was tacky on his thighs.

They both feel it. They both accept it.

Beth then got up; after a while, she tidied her panties and choir uniform. She then asked politely, "Can I stay and practice here, or where else might you suggest I go? I really need to practice my solo for the celebration mass."

"Stay, stay," responded the Cardinal.

He sat back, his sermon and notes for the mass somewhere on the floor. It didn't matter.

Bethany began to sing —acapella.

An angel, — thought the Cardinal.

Then he couldn't have fucked an angel, yet he had.

His eminence asked, "Can I smoke my pipe?"

Beth was indifferent to that.

To her, it looked like a manly ritual after sex.

Beth thought of Bernard.

She much preferred the rites of sex.

Still, there was a relaxed male, and she knew it was her calm post-coital voice combined with the vanilla creamy-smelling flakes in the tobacco that reminded the Cardinal of her soft breasts and bouncy buttocks that added to his enjoyment.

Sex; there was nothing to hide.

Men so easy to tame — thought Beth — continuing acapella — as pipe smoke wafted as calming as an incense censer.