The Price of Desire by N. K. Fox Page A

prick and thrusting it deep inside her until she came. But she managed to maintain a shred of self-control... for now. First, he had to fulfil his end of the bargain.
    â€˜Would you like to see my nice wet pussy?’ she asked him, still pressing her advantage.
    The vicar nodded his head, not meeting her eyes. Georgie hooked her thumbs into her waistband and pulled her soaking panties midway down her thighs. Her glistening mound was clean-shaven, which delighted the vicar. He gasped at the sight and then dropped to his knees in front of her, his hand pumping his hard cock furiously.
    â€˜Do you like what you see?’ she asked, her fingers lazily playing over her slippery folds.
    With two fingers she held her lips apart, allowing him a full view of her wet hole and swollen clitoris. He was so close to her now; she had him exactly where she wanted him.
    â€˜Do you want to put your big fat cock in my tight wet pussy?’ she taunted, and the vicar merely groaned in response. ‘I want your cock in me, I want you to fuck me right here, right now. Would you like that?’
    â€˜Yes,’ came his gravelly reply.
    â€˜Then you know what you have to do. Just tell me what you know. I’m so wet, please tell me so I can have you inside me. I know you want it as much as I do. Look how wet my pussy is.’ She thrust three fingers inside herself with ease and watched his bright red face contort in turmoil, his desire as a man fighting with his duty to God.
    He groaned. ‘She’s... she’s a prostitute. A whore, a harlot. She sells sex for money,’ he blurted, unable to restrain himself any longer, desire defeating beliefs. ‘Ask around in The Greenman,’ he continued. ‘She’s known to pick up business in there.’
    Georgie was not given time to absorb this information; the pact now complete the vicar launched himself upon her, knocking her to the floor. His hands were everywhere, grabbing at her breasts, clawing between her legs, probing between her buttocks. He flipped her over onto her knees, her skirt above her waist, her pert buttocks thrust into the air. Even though she knew what was to come she couldn’t help but cry out as he penetrated her sopping hole in a single thrust. With his hot pole deep inside her, sending an unexpected warmth all over her body, she lifted her hips to allow him to plunge deeper.
    His frantic thrusts were hard and fast, erratic and almost primitive. It wasn’t long before she felt him pulsing inside her, and the warm gush of fluid pumping deep into her.
    Withdrawing his quickly softening shaft he stood up, leaving Georgie panting on the floor. Without looking around she pulled up her wet panties and silently rearranged her skirt. She was shocked, about what she had been told of Lily, about her own behaviour, and about how much she had enjoyed it.
    Shakily she got to her feet and buttoned up her blouse. Turning slowly to face the priest she found herself alone. He had vanished into thin air.
    â€˜Coward,’ she shouted into the silence, and stormed out of the empty church.
    Â 
    Georgie couldn’t face going back to the Manor. What would she tell her parents? If what the vicar said was true she clearly didn’t know her sister as well as she thought she did. Lily, a prostitute? It couldn’t possibly be true, could it?
    Georgie hadn’t been home as much as she should have been lately; maybe she should have made more of an effort to see her sister over the last year. But she had been so wrapped up in her own life in Cambridge, would she have known if her sister was unhappy? Lily could be rebelling, but it just seemed so unlike her; she was such a determined person, she knew her own mind and in her own way she was already rebelling against her parents by going to a state college and wanting a career in the church. She always said with a smile that she would be the first female Pope. And Georgie thought she was only half