The musty church smell lingered, competing with the sweet smell seeping into his nostrils from her bent over bottom at the altar. Every stroke dragged out more juice that quickly evaporated from their hot, frantic coupling.

“How many times in here?”

She shook her head. Moaning, she pushed back to engulf his needy cock.

“If I told you, I’d run out of enticing confessions and you’d lose interest in me.” She spat the words out between gritted teeth.

“Your ‘made for fucking’ body will never run out of confessions.”

Her wicked smile confirmed that the vicar spoke the truth.