She-Devil In Church

"After the eighth man pulled out of Naomi, Isabel made Naomi sit up and count the stars, and she asked her what she was."

"Naomi sobbed and said she was surely a slut. Isabel gave her a hug and consoled her for several minutes. Then she slid off the table and Naomi shrieked, 'Where are you going?! And Isabel said, 'Nowhere, dear cousin. I just need to help these men finish the job."

"Isabel sat in a chair and gave oral sex to one man at a time, the man that was going to penetrate Naomi next. While the men came over Naomi and fucked her, Isabel sucked cock and cheered them on. Naomi's body betrayed her quickly enough and she endured a series of ... of ... she called them 'intense mind-fucking orgasms.' "

"After Naomi told me about that incident, that was the last time I saw her. She stopped coming to church. She was too ashamed to come. She just couldn't face the other women anymore. She couldn't be in the company of the wives of men that had seduced her into doing those things. She was never as shameless and black-hearted as Isabel."

"Her father was concerned about her and went looking for her. He found her in her home naked and with several men, but only one that he knew from our church. Her husband wasn't home and her father insisted that she leave with him.

"But Naomi refused. Her husband had turned Naomi's home into a whorehouse and men from within the church and the surrounding community were fucking her day and night. Naomi was addicted to sex and she wouldn't repent and she is in that state of sin to this day."

"What happened spread like wildfire throughout the church and Isabel was blamed. The church split. There was a tribunal. She was denounced in church on a Sunday morning and her excommunication was put to a vote. Many were confident that this would be the end of it. But we didn't realize the extend of her influence.

"The eight who were fucking her, and many of their business associates who trusted their word voted in Isabel's favor. And Isabel herself protested her innocence.

"Naomi was not there to testify against Isabel. I spoke for Naomi but what I said was condemned by some as gossip and hearsay.

"The pastor could not accept the outcome. He resigned, and those who voted with him left the church with him and started their own church. This church used to have 120 members.

"We are down to 70. When the pastor left, his parting words were that those who stood with Satan's bride would reap God's judgment. Most of the men that remain here, I am sorry to say, they are not good men.

"But their wives are sheep and they stay here suffering by God's will and for the sake of the children, to protect the children. Isabel's own parents stay for another reason.

"I have not heard it said to me, but I have heard that Isabel's father stayed to watch Isabel. I have heard it said that he warned her that if she does again to another woman what she did to Naomi, he will kill her by his own hand."

Sofia stopped speaking and I remembered what Isabel told me in the upstairs hall: Enjoy your wife while you can, the way she is now.

I thought it meant something else at the time, perhaps a reference to age and appreciating our youth while we have it. But now, I worried for my wife, and I said,

"Oh God! This is horrible. That's horrible."

Sofia lunged forward and hugged me and said, "Yes, but we have each other. Please tell me that is all you need."

I hugged her tight and promised her that she was indeed all I needed. And in my mind I hoped that I was speaking the eternal truth.

* * * * * *

Five nights later, a Friday night, Isabel was on the stage in church with the band, her young man band, practicing the music program for Sunday's service.

But these young men were the sons of the eight, the unholy eight deacons who had been fucking their whore for years. And the young men knew Isabel for what she was. Out of sight from their mothers and sisters, without the observant eyes of aunts and grandmothers, their behavior toward her was very different.

There was some of the same friendly banter as they worked their way through the sheet music. Isabel was the band director. No one else had the discipline to keep rehearsal on track.

They were too busy thinking with their cocks, and even at times lewdly stroking themselves and making overt references to Isabel's full and luscious lips.

Isabel understandably tolerated their remarks and kept bringing them back to the music. She realized that she too let down her guard somewhat. Instead of the formal Sunday dress the public was accustomed to seeing her wear, she was in short red denim shorts and had no bra under a black leather vest that hid her chest only because of the lace string that cinched the vest across her front top.

The boys knew she had no panties on (the bulging camel toe of her cunt was visible in her tight shorts) and her blood red platform sandals showed off her red painted toenails. The vest and shorts were both too small to hide the tattoo on her back, a tramp stamp black pentagram with a Satanic goat head in the five-pointed star in the small of her lower back.

She managed to keep them on course for an hour, but by then the horseplay was too much and Isabel said, "I think we've done enough for one night."

She set aside her electric bass guitar and sat on her high stool on the stage. Walter put down his saxophone. Juan pushed away from his electric organ.

Simon lay the acoustic guitar back in its case and Osvaldo put down his drumsticks.

They all gathered around Isabel and pawed and tugged at her body. She felt again the thrill of being the center of attention, the fulfillment of their desperate need, the source of their joy.

Each one of them had known her for the first time by way of an introduction from the father. Their first sex with her was father-son sex with the resident queen slut.

And Isabel had always lived up to her reputation, infecting them all with mad desire for her. Being the cum slut they had all dreamed of meeting one day.

For two of the four, she was their first fuck. And for all of them she was the standard by which they would measure girls. She would teach them how to train the prissy, preppy, God-filled maidens that faithfully came to the Lord's house. The young men freely touched her breasts and pussy for they were chosen ones, chosen by their fathers to corrupt themselves and their peers.

And this would be done by encouraging their obsession for lust with a woman dedicated to fanning the flames of sin incarnate.

Young hands rubbed and stroked and pinched and slapped her all over, from calves, up thighs, around the ass and up the stomach and back, slithering on and over tits, gripping neck and shoulders, pulling lips and pinching nose, tugging hair and earlobes.

Isabel closed her eyes and let her soul be immersed in their boiling over expressions: Yes bitch. You like that? Oh you can tell she likes it. Fuck, I wish we could do her all night. Let's get going, slut. Come on.

Walter, who was by now teaching his girlfriend Rita to take his cock up the ass, grabbed Isabel's great bottom as she walked with the young men up the center aisle of the church, into the lobby and down the hall to the pastor's office. Simon, who had run ahead, was laying out Pastor Gonzalez's vinyl upholstered futon on the

floor of the office.

Isabel casually stripped, pulling and shaking her tight shorts down off her hips. Her vest was already unlaced, she had walked out the sanctuary with her great tits exposed and now she let the vest fall with a shrug of her shoulders.

She bent over to unsnap her sandal straps and as she did, Osvaldo speared her pussy with three fingers and began thrusting fiercely. Isabel let out a soft moan.

She slowly went to her knees on the edge of the futon and crawled to the center, staying on all fours. Walter stepped into her face, bouncing his brown cock in hand and making a drop of pre-cum fling out in a thin string, like a whip it lashed out in an arc and landed on her eyelash. The string made a zig-zag landing across her cheek and the side of her nose.

She opened her mouth and Walter thrust in, immediately stroking, fucking lightly into her mouth.

A whap of hand and butt was heard as Osvaldo exclaimed, "shake the butt, whore!"

Isabel gladly complied, arcing back and dry humping ass up and down, making her butt cheeks jiggle for the young man. Osvaldo looked at the dancing pentagram, snarled and lunged forward, tapping through the wet slit and joyously fucking, fucking, fucking. "God-damn hot whore! Ohhhh sweet bitch!"

Juan stood by with Simon, both of them stroking their cocks and waiting their turn.

"Isabel," Juan said. "I got Martha talked into getting a tramp stamp on her back. Wanna see what it's going to look like?"

Isabel moaned an 'mmm-Hmm!" as she sucked cock to the balls.

Juan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of white paper. He unfolded it and hung it over Walter's cock so Isabel could see. There dangling in front of her was a tattoo artist's rendering of a smaller pentagram than her's, but extending from each side horizontally were devil's horns. "Handlebars!" Juan said, and that followed with his laugh.

Isabel moaned loud and clenched at Osvaldo's thrusting cock. It made her feel so deliciously wicked, the work she was doing. Martha was a sweet, church-going miss who had been dating Juan for over a year. Her mother disapproved, but her father was fucking Isabel - a fact that Martha knew. Martha also knew Juan was fucking Isabel. That bothered her a little, but not enough to break it off with Juan.

She held onto a morbid fascination of what life would be like if she followed down the path Juan was laying out for her. He was the only male she had ever had sex with and she was very much enjoying it.

Juan was reluctant to share her, although the subject had come up. But Isabel was confident that in time he would pass her around.

Osvaldo clawed at Isabel's hips, digging his nails in deep into her sides and growling, "Fuck on it baby, fuck that bone, whore!" And to that, Isabel sucked in air and picked up speed.

Simon, impatient, knelt by Isabel's side and while stroking cock with one hand reached under her and pinched the nipple of her flopping jugs. He pinched and pulled hard to hear her cry and she did. "NNNNNNnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!"

That incited Walter to grip two fist-fulls of dark hair and fuck into her throat. Isabel loved this! They were raging hardcore whore-mongers. So young and so able! And it was all thanks to her willingness to give them practice time.

Walter barked at Osvaldo to switch places. "I want to cum in her pussy this time!"

Osvaldo refused. "Then you should have grabbed her ass first!"

They were in a standoff and Walter bitched. Isabel curled her tongue and pressed into the shaft with her lips, trying to make it worth Walter's trouble to fuck her throat. He eased off his demands and felt his cum load boil, "Ohhhhhhh yes bitch .......... nnnnnn FUCK!"

He pulled back while Osvaldo kept ramming the whore's vagina. Walter furiously jacked on his cock and let fly with a grunt his cum finding a place to land. Spurting into her scalp first, then the right eyebrow/eyelid, a third shot right between the eyes and sending the spunky trickle down the bridge of her broad nose. The next two spurts zeroed into her mouth, landing inside on cock-sucking tongue.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh fuckknnnnnnnnnnnnnnn," Walter moaned.

Isabel was fucking back on Osvaldo's young firm, long-driving prick, her eyes closed and cunt in ecstacy. "uhhhh uhhh uhhhhh ohhhhh!" she moaned.

All the while, Simon pinched nipples and slapped her bouncing fat tits while he pulled on his swollen penis. Isabel had had Simon excited for so long that he was molesting his own mother. The poor woman, still lovely in her own way, was fighting a constant rearguard action, always retreating from her son's advances, and losing more ground every week.

She was caught between a husband who wouldn't come to her defense and a son who showed no mercy. Although Simon had not succeeded in getting his mother to perform intercourse, she was by now tolerating clitoral fondling, allowing her son, however reluctantly, to rub her to orgasm as he dry humped her thigh.

Isabel knew her power. She knew the extent of her reach. She knew that with each passing day she was driving out the saints and corrupting all within her sphere, infesting the souls with demonic influence. She slapped her ass to Osvaldo's groin, enjoyed his spearing cock and let Simon express himself by tormenting her tits.

It was all part of her master's plan.

Osvaldo let out a grunt, then a "fuck!" and his pace went full speed as he bored his cock deep and ejaculated. "Fuck oh fucking whore uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh take it take it!"

Isabel, face dripping of cum, looked at Juan. He shrugged and said, "I'm waiting to stretch your ass."

Panting raggedly and waiting for Osvaldo to pull out, Isabel turned to Simon. "What about you baby, let me suck your cock."

"Uh uh," Simon said in refusal. "I wanna titty fuck these fine mature fuck bags, mama."

Osvaldo pulled at, slapped ass and said, "Damn!"

Juan stepped up to the bitch's crack and was about to push in when Isabel said, "Wait. How are we going to do this?"

She pulled away and sat down, legs folded to one side. "Juan, let me sit on your cock so Simon can titty fuck."

Juan lay on his back and Isabel squatted onto his cock, slowly easing it up her rectum. Simon, now of a vicious mind, spat and spat and spat on Isabel's face and tits.

"Mmmm yes baby, who's your whore uh who's your mother whore?" Isabel said to Simon.

"You are! Spit! You're my mother whore, my titty fuck-toy," Simon said. "Spit!"

He slapped his cock on her breastbone and Isabel shoved her tits together, forming a whore's hot-dog. She expertly fucked them both to orgasms that let her chest, chin, neck and asshole cum-coated.

Shortly after Simon and Juan spent themselves, Martha drove into the parking lot to pick up her boyfriend Juan. She honked and Juan said, "It's Martha!" He rapidly jumped into his clothes and the others sat on the filth futon and played with their cum, smearing it across Isabel's defiled and supple body. Then they heard footsteps.

"What the fuck?" Walter asked.

"Come here, there's something I want you do see," Juan was heard to say.

Isabel, in her most stern voice barked, "Juan don't! She's not ready!"

But Juan was willful and pulled Martha into the doorway. She took one look at the mess and shut her eyes, "Oh God!"

She turned her head, "Juan, I want to leave."

"Take another look, sweet-cakes, come on!" Juan insisted.

"Goddammit Juan, let her go, get her away from here!" Isabel commanded.

"But she's ready Isabel, I just know it," Juan insisted, and then he reached between Martha's legs, rode his hand up her thighs and grabbed her pussy. She squealed,

bent over and said, "Donnnnn't!"

Like a streak of lightning, Isabel rose, dashed to the door, gripped Juan by the throat with strength he couldn't imagine she had and rammed the back of his head into the door frame. She looked around her and said, "All of you, out!"

They scurried to leave and Martha started to pull away. Isabel grabbed her arm. "You're not going with Juan. Let one of the others give him a ride."

After the boys left, Isabel grabbed a towel and wiped herself off. She pulled on her shorts but didn't bother to put on the vest. Martha, always looking at the floor, took a moment to survey what Isabel was wearing and betrayed a disapproving frown.

"Don't judge me," Isabel said. "You're the same as me, you just don't know it yet."

"Ohh," Martha said as she shook her head no. "I'm nothing like you."

"Really?" Isabel said.

"Uh yeah! Really. God, what was I thinking. You are such a skank!"

Martha stood nervously, backing into a wall for support. Isabel grabbed the rolling desk chair and sat directly in front of Martha. She put her hands on Martha's knees and squeezed. "Did you agree to put the tramp stamp on your back?"

Martha blinked and looking around evasively. "I haven't made up my mind."

Isabel slid her soft hands up the outer thighs until she possessed Martha's ass, her dress scrunched up.

"You know that Juan fucks me. You know that your father fucks me. You stay with Juan. You don't denounce your father."

Isabel squeezed Martha's butt cheeks and pulled them apart, she leaned forward and blew air on the young lady's crotch. "You told Juan that you would agree to take the Devil's brand on your back. Tell me the truth."

There was silence, Martha looked about evasively and tried to form the word STOP in her brain.

"Tell me!" Isabel shouted, and the girl flinched and shuddered. Painted whore nails dug into the butt cheeks.

"Yesss. I did. I said I would, but ...."

"But now you have doubts. Is that right. Couldn't bear to look directly at the wicked consequences awaiting you?"

Martha froze. I should say something, she thought. But there was no time. Isabel wouldn't give her anymore time. Isabel smiled and jerked at Martha's panties. When they were down to her knees, Isabel leaned her face in and planted the tip of her devilish tongue on the young woman's clit. She licked the distraught innocent to a

squealing, heaving orgasm.

Then another.

And another.

Then they had a long, long talk. At times, Martha shook her head and was on the verge of tears. Each time, Isabel calmed her down and massaged her slipping and falling soul with one argument after another. Slowly closing off every option Martha had looked to for escape. Then the two walked out and when the parted company, Isabel leaned into the window of Martha's car door and said, "You know what you have to do." She gave the young woman a kiss on the lips and left.

Martha drove home, back to her parents. It was late and her mother had gone to bed. Her father was in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, sitting on the living room sofa and watching a boxing match, or so it seemed. He had his cell phone in his hand. Martha stood in the doorway, unsure of her next move.

Her father spoke softly in Spanish, "Hable con la puta." (I talked to the whore.)

Martha said nothing. She took two timid steps into the room.

"Ven mas circa mi hija," he said. (Come closer, my daughter.)

She took three more steps and stared at the carpet. She could see from the upper periphery of her vision that he was reaching for his penis and pulling it out. He was stroking it in her plain view.

"Ensename tu tesoro," he said. (Show me your treasure.)

Martha didn't know where it came from, or why it persisted, but she had been masturbating to this scene for years. And this was the fantasy that she confessed to Isabel.

She lifted her dress up past her hips, above her chest and over her head and dropped it on the carpet. Thumbs into the elastic and pushing, she worked her panties down to her ankles and walked like a penguin to between her father's hairy brown legs. She knelt, looked at his penis, took it in hand and swallowed the head.

And just as in the script in her head, her father said, "Asi mi putita, chupa la pinga de donde venistes." (Like that, my young whore. Suck the prick from whence you came.)

Her fantasy fulfilled on the front end, she excited her wicked father to push her into the carpet. She lay on her back and he knelt his knees into the fibers. He slapped his cock at the entrance and looked at her, waiting. And then she lost her soul.

"Que me lleva el diablo!" she said in excitement. (May the devil take me!)

"Siiiiiiiiiiii mi putita. Mmmmm, aqui viene el diablo." (Yessssssssssss my young whore. Mmmmm, here comes the devil.)

And he pushed his rigid penis into the soft, hot, wet and now willing chamber. He gave her the key to hell. And she surrendered. She more than surrendered. She listened to her father's ragged, raspy whispers, promising to share her, promising to make a whore of his own flesh and blood, exciting her to beg for them, to beg for the others to circle in and ravish her.