Her hands continued up my face, feeling each little contour, and then into my hair.Stepping next to me, her feet straddling mine, she kissed me on the... shoulder. She looked down at my cock. “You don’t like my hands, baby?”“No, I like them a lot. They are wonderful.”“But you’re not hard.” I was hard, just not completely bonkers hard.“If you stroke it a bit, it will be right back—“ A smack on my ass stopped me.“Baby, you don’t get to give any orders.” I met her eyes in the mirror—her face had a. Then she felt the tendril rubbing lightly over her exposed labia, and she thrashed about uselessly as it began nudging and probing at her most private spot. It caressed the lips of her young vulva almost tenderly for a few long minutes before she felt it nudge harder at the entrance to her vagina. Her body stiffened as she felt it pushing inside her. It felt rough, even though the surface had been moistened by her fearful sweat and the natural wetness within her. The cheerio tendril entered her. This was the favorite part of the evening for their three daughter-priestesses. The stuff their dad preached was boring after hearing it so many times.Angelica was twenty, Beauty was eighteen, and Comely had just turned sixteen so it was her first tour. The older ones were veterans, touring each summer since they became of age to build a bank account for college or other life goal.Their role was to “pray” with the night’s worshippers, inspired by the Preacher’s words and the gradually revealed. It will be fun to guess who the proud papas might be in each case. One thing is clear. You should absolutely impregnate every woman here at least once. You, yourself that is. You’re the natural leader of this group and you’re the obvious choice to sire so much of its next generation in the future.“I would like to see the women get knocked up by the other guys, too, though. If I had my way, every woman here would conceive by every man here at least once apiece, to be frank. Imagine the bond that.