Christmas Hard Case Birthday
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2011 by Harvey Marcus

Sex Story: Chapter 1 - In this Birthday story, Mr. Marcus is solicited to help convince a Bible-toting young lady that sex is a normal part of growing up. Mr. Marcus remembers that it is better to give than receive, and is only happy to give Loretta's niece a lesson. But first, he has to play Santa. NOTE: Bible quotes are used extensively. If that idea offends, please bypass this story.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Drunk/Drugged   Humor   Daughter   Oral Sex  

Scene One

Annie's voice echoed down from the second floor. "Daddy, it's for you. But make it quick, huh. I'm expecting a call."

My daughter is always expecting a call. I never am, but the ones I get always seem to lead to sex. "Hello?"

"Hello. Mr. Marcus? This is Betty Blanton. Marci's mother."

Ah yes, Marci, my sweet Easter treat who fucked like a bunny while I was in my rabbit suit. "Yes, Mrs. Blanton. How are you?"

"Fine. I hope you haven't forgotten about your promise."

Promise? I didn't remember making a promise. She'd caught me like a deer in headlights with my erection stuck in her daughter's tight pussy. Only Marci's short bunny helper skirt hid the deed. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage."

"You told me you were practicing with Marci for your Santa Claus portrayal. Isn't that what you said?"

"Oh, yes, that's right. It's been so long, I'd forgotten." Long and firm. "Yes, of course, playing Santa."

"Well, I was just calling to make sure. I'm in charge of preparing your schedule of appearances. You'll use the suit we purchased a couple of years ago. It's been freshly cleaned, not like that Easter Bunny outfit. Pheeew, it stunk to high heaven. I don't know how you tolerated it."

Fucking her daughter while wearing it helped. "Thanks for the reminder, Mrs. Blanton."

"Betty. You'll pick it up from Loretta Gunford. Her husband played Santa last year."

Loretta was Sally's mother. I'd met her the night I'd violated Sally's friend Ruthie. Small, tight Ruthie. My erection didn't fade, then or now. "Right, pick up the suit from Loretta. Got it. Bye."

Young women like Marci or Ruthie weren't likely to show up, wanting to sit on Santa's knee asking for an erotic present. The crowds would help, too. This might turn out okay, without incident. Of course, Sally or Marci were old enough to be Santa's helpers.

"I'm off the phone, Annie," I shouted.

"Thanks, Dad," she called back.

"Who was that?" my wife Harriet asked.

"Betty Blanton, Marci's mother, reminding me I'd volunteered to be Santa this year."

"You did? I don't remember that. Well, maybe this year I'll get what I want for a change." She smiled and made a 'zip my lips' gesture.

What was that all about? Surely not a sexual reference? Nah, not from Harriett. I had no clue what she wanted except for me to handle the chores more efficiently and without her asking twice. Okay, five times. "We don't celebrate Christmas. But don't go expecting eight gifts either."

The phone rang again. It was useless to try and get to it before Anna.

"Daddy! It's for you again. Since when are you so popular? Hurry, huh?"

"Okay, sweetie." I grabbed the instrument I'd just put down. "Hello?"

"Harvey, this is Loretta Gunford. You remember me, I hope?"

Who could forget her flick of my belt buckle? "Of course I remember. What can I do for you?" Or to you?

"I just got off the phone with Betty Blanton. I have the Santa suit ready for you. And, I need a favor. Could you come over right now? I'd really appreciate it."

"Uh, sure. Give me fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Harvey."I went to the closet for my coat.

"Now what?" asked my wife.

"Loretta Gunford, Sally's mom, wants me to pick up the Santa suit now."

"What's her hurry? Oh, you might as well get it over with."

Scene Two

I made the quick trip and parked in an empty driveway. Loretta met me at the door. "Thanks for coming, Harvey."

"Sure thing." I followed her swaying hips into the living room. A large box overflowed the edges of the coffee table. She sat down on the loveseat, so I joined her. Her blouse was half unbuttoned and her skirt slid up on her thighs as she crossed her legs. "Do you want to try the suit on? To make sure it fits?"

"Nah, it's just a matter of figuring out how many pillows to make up the difference. You said something about a favor?"

Loretta leaned back. Her skirt slid higher, exposing the dark color at the tops of her pantyhose. Her black bra was in clear sight, supporting a nice pair.

"I don't know where to begin." She wiggled around on the short couch, pulling her skirt even higher. "I know what you did that night, when you watched Sally and Ruthie."

"You do?" Those kids! I never should have trusted them to keep their mouths shut. I was going to jail for sure for fucking Ruthie.

"Yes, and I was relieved. For some reason, I couldn't do it myself."

How was Loretta going to take Ruthie's cherry? Was she a man in drag? I looked close at her crotch for a bulge. No sign.

"Sally told me that your sex talk with them really helped."

Talk? "Really?"

"Oh, I'd gone over the basics with Sally, birds and bees stuff. But Sally told me you talked to them about technique in a way I've never been able to. You really made an impression."

Yeah, about eight inches deep. "Well, I'm glad you're not angry. Some parents would be, you know?"

"On the contrary. And I need for you to do it again."

"Again? But they already heard the, uh, lesson."

"Not them. My niece Christina. She's a hard case, that one."

"What do you mean?"

"Somehow, Lord knows why, she's become a conservative, Bible-toting introvert. She's missing out on her youth, for Christ's sake! Someone needs to do something. My sister Irene is at her wit's end. I thought that you might give it a try, seeing as how receptive the girls were to you that night."

Receptacle was more like it.

"So, what do you say? You can come by to drop off the suit after your last appearance. I'll make sure we're out to dinner and Christina is home alone. That won't be tough. She doesn't celebrate the holidays and is a vegetarian. So will you, please?"

Loretta uncrossed her legs, leaned forward and put one hand on each of my knees. I looked directly into her deep cleavage, then scanned down. The skirt was useless as a covering, having retreated to her hips. "I'll be very appreciative."

As I studied her face, she licked her lips. Her hands moved up my legs towards my solid erection. "Afterwards, maybe you could tell me about those techniques. Arthur isn't very good about those things."

Just as I started to raise my hands and caress her demanding breasts, I heard a door open.

"Ma, I'm back." It was Sally.

Loretta quickly sat back, pulled down her skirt and fumbled with her buttons. I pulled the costume box into my lap.

"Oh hi, Mr. Marcus. What's in the box?"

"I'm playing Santa this year."

"Great! I'll come by and sit on your lap."

If you do, I'll cum.

"You're a little too old for that sort of thing." said Loretta.

"You're never too old to believe in Santa Claus," Sally responded. In a flash, she was gone.

Loretta straightened her hair. "I guess we're done. Thanks in advance for talking with Christina. I'm sure you'll make a difference."

"Just how into the Bible is she?"

"Oh, she's quoting it all the time. Seems everything anyone says has a relevant Bible passage. Really gets on my nerves!"

"I'll do my best."

"And Harvey, afterwards, come by for a personal thank you."

Scene Three

I sat in a large wooden chair in a stuffy Santa's house, finishing up an exhausting shift with an infinite line of young children, all of whom wanted the latest and greatest toys that had been pitched to them on TV. I almost knew the names of the products by heart, names that were anonymous the day before. It was just about closing time. My elf helper, a young man embarrassed to be wearing tights and pointed shoes, was about to shut the door when two females entered, in matching lamb shearling-lined suede vests over frilly white blouses, short pink ruffle skirts, and black patent leather shoes.

"Sorry, we're closed," said my elf.

If it hadn't been for the older companion, I would have agreed with the elf and shooed them away. "Ho, ho, ho, I can see these last two."

"But Santa, I have to get to, uh, the toy workshop." The elf tapped on his watch.

"Ho, ho, I can close up. Go on, and let the other elves know I'm counting on them to keep all the promises I made today. Ho, ho, ho!"

My elf departed without hesitation.

"Come here and sit on Santa's knee." I hoped the older one would take me up on my offer. The young girl, probably five or six, eagerly approached. I helped her up.

"And what is your name?"


"And have you been a good girl, Allison?"

"Oh yes, Santa. Very good. Haven't I, Tara?"

Tara, her older twin, was in her teens. With the short skirt and make-up, it was difficult to be precise.

"Yes, you have, Allison. Now tell Santa what you want. We're already late to meet Mom," Tara said.

So they were sisters. Allison leaned over and whispered a familiar doll's name in my ear. Not very imaginative, but consistent with the day's requests.

"Ho, ho, ho, I'll order an extra shift so I don't run out."

I lifted Allison from my knee. She ran over to her older sister. I started to stand.

"Your turn, Tara," said Allison.

"Don't be silly. I'm too old for Santa."

"Nobody's too old for Santa, silly goose."

I chose to take Allison's opening. "That's right, Tara. Now come over here and talk to Santa."

Her sister was dragging her towards me. Was this my gift for a long shift?

"Oh, all right. Let's get this over with." Tara took a precarious seat on the end of my knee.

"Scoot up. No one has fallen off my lap all day, and I don't want you to ruin my record. Ho, ho!"

Tara moved closer, smoothing her skirt under her butt, perching on my leg. Most of her shapely thighs were exposed. The erection that had started when she walked in was now almost at full length, snaking its way down my pant leg under her. If it got any harder, it was going to 'Tara' hole in my costume.

"So, Tara, have you been a good girl this year?"

"Yes, Santa."

I bet, good and sexy. How many young men had her on their lists?

"And what would you like Santa to get you for Christmas?" Tara intertwined her fingers and put her balled fist at the junction of her legs. Her skirt rose even higher. She leaned closer to me and whispered.

"What I really want is to have sex. I've been putting it off because I'm only seventeen, but my birthday is the day after Christmas. How's that for a request, huh Santa?"

She was trying to gross me out. I ran my left hand down her back and wedged my fingers under her butt. I couldn't feel much through my gloves and her puffy skirt. I was still looking at her thighs and the promise they guarded.

"Perfectly reasonable for a young lady like yourself. I think I can arrange it." I wiggled my fingers.

"Oh! You're a horny Santa."

I raised my head to face her. She had started to lean over and kiss me. Instead of my cheek, her lips met mine. They were barely touching. I didn't move. Tara began to lean towards me, putting more pressure on what had now become an urgent kiss. With her center of gravity shifting, she started to fall forward. My right hand came up to grab her shoulder as she put her hands down to steady herself. Her left grabbed my knee. Her right got a handful of erection, running along my thigh. She rubbed my erection and nibbled my lower lip through the fuzzy white beard.

"Santa would like to make your gift more personal, if that's all right with you."

"Oh yes, Santa, I want a personal gift." Squeeze of my dick.

"But next year, when you're eighteen."

"A whole year? But how will I know it's you? I don't want to wait that long and end up with some other Santa's gift." Squeeze. "It might be too small."

"Next year, tell Santa you want a comic book gift. If Santa says a Dick Tracy watch, it's me."


"I want to watch you trace-y your fingers along my dick."

"Leave it to me to get a smart ass Santa. You're on."

Tara got up and took her sister's hand.

"I'm going to tell Mama you kissed Santa Claus," Allison whined.

"You do and I'll make sure you don't get that Betty Beauty doll you want!" Tara replied.

They took their argument outside, allowing me to lock up for the night. I had a weekend of Bible studies ahead of me.

Scene Four

I stood at the Gunford's front door, fully dressed as Santa with a small bag hanging over my shoulder, and rang the bell. My mind was spinning with the phrases I'd tried to memorize. The door opened. It was Loretta's niece, as promised.

"You're a couple of days late, fat man. Forgot where you parked your sled?" she asked. Black sweater and black slacks. Dressed for a funeral, her face was pretty without makeup. "You can catch the north-bound Mettrans bus on the corner." The door began to close.

"Uh, I'm Mr. Marcus. I'm here to return the Santa suit. Loretta told me someone would be home."

The door reopened. "I know. She mentioned it before they went to dinner. Come in."

I made sure the door was locked behind me.

"Aunt Loretta left the box in her bedroom. You can change there."

She walked down the hall, book in hand. Does she carry a bible around with her all the time? I'd better be better than good.

"Wait a second. She probably has jewelry and other valuables in there. I don't know her very well," I said. That would change if my mission was successful this evening. "I don't want to be accused of stealing anything if something comes up missing."

She looked at me with a blank stare.

"Could you come in while I change, like a chaperone?"

"Oh, all right. She must trust you a little, or she wouldn't have told me to let you in. You do have something on under there, don't you?"

"Certainly. What do you take me for?"

She sat on a padded window seat.

"I didn't catch your name," I said.

She looked up from her Bible. "Chris." She returned to reading.

"As in Christine?"

"No. If you must know, as in Christmas."

I grabbed my stuffed belly. "Ho ho ho, I should have made an effort to meet you sooner."

"You can drop the act. I'm not a believer."

"In Christmas?" I maintained my Santa voice.

"In the commercialized pseudoholiday everyone celebrates. Christmas is a time for prayer and reflection, not an excuse to go into debt buying inappropriate gifts that just get exchanged anyway."

I pulled off the red hat with white trim and threw it on the bed. "You study the Bible?"

"Religiously. I mean, every day."

"That doesn't leave much time for sports or extracurricular activities."

"I get exercise. I'm in pretty good shape." The baggy clothes didn't confirm her claims. "And I'm not interested in any of the lame group activities they offer."

I pulled the beard strap back and removed the phony whiskers. "If you haven't figured it out, those activities are a ruse."

She squinted.

"They're an outlet for socializing, so you can meet the opposite sex in a structured environment."

"Makes no difference. I'm not interested in boys."

"You're not? A pretty young lady like you?"

She tilted her head. One eyebrow raised. "Aunt Loretta put you up to this, didn't she? She didn't get anywhere with me, so she arranged to give you a shot while she was away." She stood up and stepped towards the door.

I'd been made. Time for a dose of honesty, but just a small one. "Okay, you found me out. See, I'm being honest, all right? Your aunt is worried about you. She doesn't think you're growing up normal. You should be hanging at the mall with friends, pushing the limits on clothing, going out on dates. How old are you anyway?"

She flipped a page. "Eighteen, as of yesterday. Why?"

Of course. That's why her name is 'Christmas.' "At your age, most of your classmates have already been intimate." I should know. "Instead, you've got your nose buried in a book."

"I've had dates. Besides, this isn't just any book."

"Yes, I know, she told me. You're dedicated to the Bible."

"Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"No, except you've got it wrong."

"How do you mean?" She returned to her seat at the window.

"If you think that the Bible tells you to stay away from boys."

"Corinthians 7:34 'So also the woman that is unmarried and the virgin is careful for the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and in spirit: that ye may attend upon the Lord without distraction.' Seems pretty clear to me."

She was good. I would have to be better. "But you forgot. 'Or know ye not that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit which is in you, which ye have from God? and ye are not your own: glorify God therefore in your body. Corinthians 6:20.'"

Her eyes were wide open, her jaw slacked. "You know the Bible?"

"Of course." After cramming a dozen or so relevant passages over the weekend.

"You don't look religious or serious in that fat suit."

"We are all true to God in our own ways, just as each of us are individuals." I made that one up.

"But glorifying God doesn't mean necking at the movies."

"So tell me. I want to understand. How are you glorifying God in your body?"

"You mean besides prayer?"


Her eyes drifted up as she searched for an appropriate citation. I excused myself. As promised, Loretta left an open bottle of wine in the fridge. Hmm, she had excellent taste. I grabbed the bottle and two glasses. On the way up the stairs, I saw the thermostat on the wall. I cranked it up a little.

Chris was still thinking, flipping pages.

"Got an answer yet?" I asked.

"I'm working on it."

I poured. "Here, maybe this will help."

"I don't drink. It's a sin."

"Wrong. Timothy 5:23 'No longer drink water exclusively, but use a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent ailments.'"

She took the glass hesitantly. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"You wouldn't go against the Good Book, would you?"

"Of course not." She sipped the cold red liquid. "Would you mind if I read out loud? It would be a nice change of pace from praying alone."

"Go right ahead."

I pulled back the white trim on the front of the jacket and worked the buttons. By the time she finished one selection, the coat was on the bed in the box. I stood there in the pants, pillows showing, thumbs hooked in the suspender straps.

"What religion do you practice?" she asked.

"I'm Jewish."

"With a name like Marcus, I thought so. It's just that you quoted from the New Testament."

I pulled the pillows from my pants and threw them on the floor. "Can I help it if I love the Bible?"

Her smile lit up the room, a combination of pleasure and alcohol.

"Let me make a toast. L'chiam!" I moved my glass forward to clink with hers. Surprised, she pulled her glass away. Red liquid splashed over the lip of my goblet onto her lap.

"Oh, sorry. Stay right there." I trotted to the bathroom and grabbed a handful of tissues. "Here, let me soak it up." I placed the tissues on her lap and patted them down. Anywhere on her lap was fair game.

"I don't think it's coming out," she said.

"Take them off. I have an old family cure."

She hesitated, as if she knew what I'd asked wasn't quite right.

"Come on, before it sets!"

The wine suppressed just enough common sense to allow her to complete the deed. Even her panties were black.

"Just sit and study. I'll be right back."

I found a bottle of dishwashing liquid soap in the kitchen and hydrogen peroxide in the bathroom cupboard. I poured the combination on the stain as a presoak. On the way back to the bedroom, I turned the thermostat knob a bit higher. Chris was wiping her brow as I entered the room.

"Does wine make you warm? I'm perspiring," she said.

"Perhaps it's the intensity of your prayers. You said you usually don't read them out loud. Your reading is affecting me too." The billowing pants hid my erection.

She put down the book and pulled the sweater over her head. It got hung up as it moved across her breasts. The black blouse underneath rode up, exposing her flat stomach and the tops of her panties. She lay the sweater on the side and pulled her shirt down, knees tight together. Sweat stains had begun under her arms.

I sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, palms together at my chest. "It's not the Bible, is it? You can talk to me. What is it with you and boys? Did something happen?" Please, tell me details. Maybe I can help."

She looked up from the book. "I don't know, Mr. Marcus. It's personal, and I hardly know you."

I put a fatherly hand on one of her bare knees. "Tell me, Chris. From one believer to another."

"Okay, if you promise not to tell Aunt Loretta, I'll show you."


She put the book on the floor and stood up in front of me. With her fingertips, she moved her panties down a couple of inches. Staring back at me was a small tattoo, a red devil above her pubic area. It looked just like the one in the cartoons. She pulled the panties back up, molding them against her cunt. "I went to get it removed, honest, but it hurt so bad I couldn't stand it." She sat.

"How did you get it in the first place?"

"Once when I had too much to drink. My nickname used to be 'Li'l Devil'. I was always drinking beer and getting into trouble."

"So you have a tattoo. No big deal."

"You don't understand. The tattoo isn't the problem, although I'd rather be rid of it. You see, the girls would joke around about it, even telling my dates. Then they'd want to see it. And touch it. And every time, they'd snake their hands lower, touching me -"

"And how did that make you feel?" Just talking about it was making me throb.

"My stomach would knot up and I'd get these awful cramps. It was horrid. A lot of guys went home with a red imprint of my hand on their faces."

Chris didn't know how to handle her body's reaction to natural sexual urges. "Go on."

"It didn't take too many incidents for me to change my ways. For example, this wine is the first alcohol I've had in close to a year." She put her head in her hands.

"I think I might have a solution to your problem." Right here in my pants. "Would you mind if I took a closer look, at the tattoo I mean?"


"Acts 8:14-25 17 'Then, when the two apostles began laying their hands on the people, they received the Holy Spirit.' Maybe we can rid you of these pains, once and for all."

For the first time, I had her undivided attention. Her eyes were wide. "Really? Do you think so?"

I patted the book in her hand. "If we follow the teachings-" It should our guide to a heavenly experience.

She brushed my hand off the volume. "But Timothy 5:22 thru :24 says 'Do not lay hands upon anyone too hastily and thereby share responsibility for the sins of others; keep yourself free from sin. The sins of some men are quite evident, going before them to judgment; for others, their sins follow after'. What if you have sin on your mind?"

"But :25 continues 'Likewise also, deeds that are good are quite evident.' And it should be evident I want to help."

"But it ends, 'and those which are otherwise cannot be concealed.'"

"If they can't be concealed, you'd know it, right? Leviticus 6:27 reminds us 'Whatsoever shall touch the flesh thereof shall be holy.'"

She paused, temporarily out of rejoinders. Perhaps I was winning.

"Let me take a look," I said.

"Must you? I'm so embarrassed." Her cheeks were flushed. So were mine, given the temperature setting in the house.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Trust me, you won't have to go through this alone."

She stood up in front of me. I remained seated at the edge of the bed. The black material slid easily down the slope beneath her navel. Some hair had grown in at the devil's feet. I leaned over and touched the artwork.

"Mr. Marcus-"

"Chris, I can't do a laying on of hands without touching you." I rubbed the critter in a circular pattern, growing the radius with each pass. My fingertips were now circulating into and out of her skimpy panties, inching closer to my target.

"Oooh, Mr. Marcus, the cramps."

"Is this what happened when the boys -"

"Ooh, yes. I'm all knotted up inside." She was leaning on me for support, her head and breasts on my back, her hands on my shoulders.

"Maybe you'd be more comfortable lying down." She made no comment when I flicked the panties over hips. Perhaps the pain was too distracting. I helped her to the bed. "Scoot up a little."

She brought her hands to her stomach, pressing down. Her breasts rose trapped between her arms. "What's the matter with me, Mr. Marcus?" Her speech was in moans. She brought her knees up towards her chest. There it was, in dewy glory, Chris's cunt.

"Pray harder, Chris."

Chris mumbled prayers quickly, as if saying them faster would bring relief. Occasionally I threw in an "amen" for good measure. I flipped the suspenders from my shoulders and let the oversized pants fall to the floor. In t-shirt and boxer shorts, I knelt at the edge of the bed. One finger traced the outline of her puffy pussy.

"Is this where it hurts?"

"Uh-huh. There, and inside, a little higher." She resumed her recitations.

I moved my face up to the wet opening. Hoping to find her sensitive flesh nubbin, I flicked my tongue from bottom to top.

Her thighs slammed against my ears. "Eeeeeee!" Thigh earmuffs muffled Chris's scream. "What are you doing?"

I pushed her knees apart. "Have you ever heard, kiss it and make it better?" I groped for a citation. "Song of Solomon 1:2-6 2 'Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; For thy love is better than wine.' You're not sick, Chris."

"No, you are! Putting your mouth there! Eeeeewwww!"

"I meant, the pains you're having are natural. You're just excited!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You need a sexual release, before your condition gets worse."

"Oh no! No, no, no! I can't, Mr. Marcus. That's the greatest sin of all!" She focused on the bulge in my skivvies. "Mr. Marcus, you've got an erection."

"It happens every time I participate in prayer and meditation."

"It does?"

"Yes. The power of God's goodness fills me, inspires me, and excites me. It's completely involuntary, I assure you." The last part was no lie. "Matthew 9:21 'For she said within herself, If I do but touch his garment, I shall be made whole.'" I put her hand on the cloth on her belly. She pulled back immediately. I placed one finger gently into her moist crease.

"Get that away from me!" She scooted up the bed in retreat, legs tight together in defiance. I pursued her until her head bumped the headboard. I pushed one knee to the side and put one hand back on her stomach. After rubbing for a while, I slid my hand down and reinserted one digit. "How does that feel?" I asked. "Better?"

She moved her hips a bit from side to side, then up and back.

"God forgive me. That's helping. Is this okay?"

"That I'm helping you through the trauma of your unreleased sexual energy? Of course. It's God's will."

Her hips were lifting to take more of my lone finger. The entrance and walls of her cunt were extremely tight. I wasn't sure she could take anything bigger. My penis throbbed, preparing for the challenge. Now my finger was all the way in, and Chris was doing all the work. She writhed and bounced, grinding herself against my feeble digit.

"Oh, oh, uh, oh, ooooooooh." Chris had her first orgasm, shattering those devil cramps. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

"Uh, uh, uh, thank God for your finger, Mr. Marcus. I thought I was going crazy."

"We're not done yet, my dear."

"No? But I'm feeling so much better now." She was still humping, maybe not even realizing it.

"Recall Psalms 45:6? 'Your throne, O God, is forever and ever; A scepter of uprightness is the scepter of Your kingdom.'" I pulled down my boxers and slid them off my legs. My shirt came off next. I was completely naked. "This is my upright scepter, God's own tool."

"Oh no! Not your penis!" She tossed her head back and forth, mumbling to herself. "It's not right." I increased the pace of my finger fuck. Her hips joined the tempo. I bent a knuckle in the direction of her clitoris. "Oooh, oooh, what's that? The cramps are returning! Oh, I thought I was cured. Mr. Marcus, can't you do something?"

I moved closer, removing my finger and placing my erection at the entrance to her cunt. "This is the heavenly cure you seek, my dear."

Her hands were at my chest, trying to keep me at bay.

"Ezekiel 7:16-17 'Those who are moaning like doves of the valleys about their own sin. All hands will hang weakly with fear, and all knees will become weak as water.' Relax, Chris, my dove." She dropped her hands and let her legs fall to the sides. My hand inserted my throbbing dick into the outer flesh of her pussy.

"But Mr. Marcus, Psalms 125:3 says 'For the scepter of wickedness shall not rest upon the land of the righteous, So that the righteous will not put forth their hands to do wrong.' I never let any of my dates do this. Isn't it wrong?"

"Doesn't it feel right? Numbers 24:17 'A scepter shall rise from Israel, And shall crush through the forehead of Moab, And tear down all the sons of Sheth.' Accept my Jewish scepter and find holy peace." And, in the process, I'd get a piece.

Her cunt lips parted as I pushed deeper into her. I continued, "Job 8:20-21 'Surely God does not reject the innocent or give strength to those who do evil. God will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy.'"

Chris was shouting but not laughing. "It's too fat. Oh God, what are we doing?" With a rocking motion, I was making incremental progress. "It doesn't fit. Scepter or not, put your finger back in. That felt nice."

"Hang in there, Chris. The world wasn't built in a day."

"You mean it's going to take seven days to get that scepter of yours all the way in?" Finally, a smile at her lips.

Sweat dropped from my head and chest onto her black blouse.

"I don't want to get that shirt of yours all stained with perspiration. You'll be more comfortable if you take it off."

"I am pretty hot." She unbuttoned and slid the sleeves down, finally pulling it from beneath her body.

"And the bra."

I pulled her forward so she could reach behind and unclasp. That let me slid in another inch.

"This was foretold in Lamentations 4:21, you know. 'The cup will come around to you as well, You will become drunk and make yourself naked, '" she said.

"There is so much truth in the Bible."

"Amen." She wiggled her hips to accept more of my probing member.

I leaned on my elbows and palmed her breasts, pressing her nipples between my fingers. "Psalms 144:5 'Bow thy heavens, O Jehovah, and come down: Touch the mountains, and they shall smoke.'"

"My breasts are hardly mountains." Her nipples and areola became enlarged with my fondling. "But they are hot. It feels like they're going to burst." She pushed her chest up as I leaned down and sucked one, then the other.

"Luke 11:27-28 27 'And it came to pass, as he said these things, a certain woman out of the multitude lifted up her voice, and said unto him, Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the breasts which thou didst suck, '" she quoted.

I seemed to be making progress easier.

"Oh dear God. I feel all gushy when you do that." She was right. Turning her on with breast-play made penetration much easier. "Okay, you're all the way in. I don't feel anything!"

"Ecclesiastes 9:10 'Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.' Hang on, Chris. This is your belated holiday gift."

I started pumping in and out, straining to reach new depth with each stroke. "Oh, Mr. Marcus, this is a fine gift. A blessed one. I never knew-"

"Romans 16: 16 'Salute one another with a holy kiss, '" I said. My mouth found hers. It was open and needy. Her hands ran up and down my back. I couldn't have been more turned on, yet her touch was taking me beyond previous limits. Chris wrapped her legs around me as we threw our loins at each other in a common heathen rhythm.

Chris was panting so hard she almost couldn't speak. "The 23rd Psalm. 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.'"

"My rod, my staff." I repeated.

"Your rod, your staff!" Chris convulsed with a body-shaking orgasm. "Ooooh, dear God!"

"I think today's Bible lesson is over," I said. Loretta wanted Chris educated, not impregnated.

Chris didn't stop humping. Her hands roamed lower, over my ass, down in between my thighs.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Like Ezekiel 36:9 says, 'You will be plowed, and seed will be planted in you.'"

I had no memorized quote to contradict hers. "We don't have to do this. We shouldn't do this."

She was riding me from below, thrusting herself on my penis, over and over. "Jeremiah 2:21 'But I planted you as a special vine, as a very good seed. How then did you turn into a wild vine that grows bad fruit?' You have a great vine, Mr. Marcus. Do you think I'm wild, a Little Devil that grows bad fruit? How about those two melons in your hands?"

I slid my palms from her beasts. "Chris, we've done enough for one night."

"We're not done yet. Genesis 47:13-26 13 'The hunger became worse.'" An involuntary lurch of my hips was my body's response to the fleeting touch of her fingertips on my scrotum. "Stop it! This is hardly biblical."

"Oh, but it is precisely biblical." She took my balls in her hand "Luke 8:11 'This is what the story means: The seed is God's message.'"

It was out of my hands now. My body shook as she undulated under me. "Don't fight it, Mr. Marcus. I'm ready."

Her light touch behind my cock was too much. "Chris, I'm gonna -" My dick spew hot cum deep inside her. Her legs fell back to the bed. We were both exhausted and sweaty.

"Surely goodness and loving kindness will follow me all the days of my life, And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever," she whispered.


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