Blasphemy Phone Sex – My Succulent Sins

You may want to read part 1 to this unholy blasphemy phone sex tale, so you can finish this naughty scenario in full with me. 

Oh, you like the way I can desecrate such a sacred institution with little regard? Clearly, you just had to come back to hear the rest of my Blasphemy Phone Sex tale, didn’t you? I’m glad you did; this is the real juicy stuff.

There’s something about a well-delivered sermon that makes me moist. I can’t help it, the good word is powerful, and when it’s passionately orated, it touches me deeply. Right in my pussy. My gash gets all gushy when the preacher really gets into dishing out his divine message. He commands everyone’s undivided attention, and I’m not the only one.

I’m probably not the only one who gets completely turned on and needs to touch herself while he does it, either. 

When I can, I sit on the very first pew and flash him a titty or give him a peek into my panties. I know I shouldn’t be turning him on while he’s trying to shepherd his flock out of the darkness, but I can’t help myself. Plus, he fucking loves it.

My friend Willow is a lot like me when it comes to Blasphemy Phone Sex. Truly, we have endless fun teasing and pleasing the married men and younger guys while they’re trying to listen to the preacher impart his pious wisdom. We’ve been attending services together for a long time. I’d say we’re probably two of the most devout members of the church. We are definitely two of the dirtiest.

We wear our sexy sins like they’re badges of honor. Obviously, we put them out there for everyone to see and either enjoy or judge.

I’m sure every man that we jerk off together right there in the middle of all the other churchgoers enjoys it, even while they try to conceal their throbbing cocks with their bibles or hymnals. The old ladies sitting around us might not, but then again. If we think we can get away with it, Willow and I get down on our knees in front of the guy when he stands to sing and pray and show him the joys of attending church with a couple of sweet cum sluts.

After all of the preaching’s are done, all of us parishioners convene in the fellowship hall to break a little bread and chat a bit with each other before heading home. By that time, none of the men were interested in milk and cookies. Obviously, they wanted to get as close to me as they could. Some want my attention for the moment, some give me their numbers and tell me to text them later, and others just want to rub against me or grope me. I’m fine with all of it. They’re the ones who’ll have to live with their blatant hypocrisy and emboldened blasphemy, not me. I get what I want out of church: food for thought, numbers for flirting, and panties full of creamy Sunday cunt juice.

Now you can understand why Blasphemy Phone Sex sends chills through my slutty body. 

Don’t forget that you can always hear this story in greater depth and hotter detail to my voice here. Don’t be shy, baby.

Check out my friend Willow’s blasphemy phone sex blog here.