Hospital Debauchery

Theresa lingered on her knees, the cold floor biting into her skin as the aftershocks of her orgasm pulsed through her, a sensation that left her body glowing.

Devon's cum still coated her lips, its salty heat a forbidden trophy she savored with a slow, deliberate lick, her tongue curling as if to lock the secret away. Power surged through her veins, a dark current that made her skin prickle with exhilaration. She'd been fucked to satisfaction right under Elias's clueless gaze, and the thrill of it set her heart racing.

Her thighs quivered, aching sweetly from Devon's relentless thrusts, each step a reminder of how her body had surrendered to him, her pussy still slick and pulsing, dripping onto the floor like a silent confession.

She pushed herself up, hands pressing into the floor for balance, her movements slow and deliberate, savoring the ache in her core. Her dress clung to her, with sweat, cum, her own juices soaking the fabric. She tugged it straight, fingers tracing the curves of her hips and belly, feeling the electric hum of her body still alive with desire. Her stockings were shredded, long tears snaking up her calves like jagged signatures of their passion.

She didn't care, her dark hair spilled in wild, sweat-damp waves, sticking to her neck and shoulders. She combed through it with her fingers, tucking strands behind her ears, then wiped her chin, catching one last drop of Devon's cum on her thumb. Without hesitation, she slipped it into her mouth, tasting him again, her eyes fluttering shut as the musky flavor sparked fresh heat low in her belly.

Devon watched from the desk, his eyes glinting with an approval. He adjusted his shirt, buttoning it with slow, deliberate movements, his body still taut from their release. Theresa met his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them, she turned away, her bare feet padding softly each step sending a fresh pulse through her, her pussy still sensitive, still wet, still craving.

She slid into the seat beside Elias, her thigh brushing his, the contact sending a jolt through her. He didn't notice, lost in the storm of his own despair, his world crumbling while hers burned with life. She reached for his hand, weaving her fingers through his, his palm clammy and trembling, gripping hers like a drowning man clutching driftwood.

Theresa squeezed back, her touch soft and reassuring on the surface, but beneath it, her heart thrummed with the thrill of deception. Elias's voice cracked as he poured out his confession, words tumbling in a broken whisper. "So that's everything, Pastor Daniel," His eyes stayed shut, his face a mask of anguish, tears carving tracks down his cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead.

His shoulders hunched, his body trembling with quiet, and choking sobs.

Theresa leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear, "It's okay, love. We're here to fix this." Her words were soft, still husky from the moans she'd let slip, thick with the aftertaste of her pleasure. She glanced at Devon, her eyes flashing with heat, a silent command to keep the charade alive. "Pastor Daniel, pray for us. Please, thank you " Her tone was sweet, and thoughtful.

Devon nodded, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he grabbed the fake mustache and goatee from the desk. He pressed them on, transforming back into the holy man in seconds, the disguise as flawless as his lies. His pants zipped up with a soft click, hidden beneath the desk's shadow.

He cleared his throat, his voice shifting to a deep, resonant tone that filled the chapel with false sanctity. "Let us pray." He folded his hands, eyes closing halfway, but Theresa caught the sly wink he shot her, a spark of mischief in the midst of his performance. "Heavenly Father, look down on Elias and Theresa in their hour of need. Ease the pain that tears at their hearts, mend the fractures in their trust. Shower them with your boundless grace, light their path through the shadows of doubt. Help them find strength in each other, forgive the sins that weigh heavy on their souls."

"Amen."

His words rolled through the room.

Theresa joined in with her own "Amen," her voice loud and clear, ringing with conviction she didn't feel. Her mind raced with vivid flashes, Devon's hands gripping her hips, his cock stretching her wide, the way her pussy had clenched around him, milking every thrust. She shifted in her seat, feeling the slick wetness soak deeper into her dress, a secret stain that made her pulse quicken.

Thorne stirred beside her, his breathing jagged, his body still trembling with the weight of his pain.

"Open your eyes, Thorne. The prayer's done." Theresa's voice was gentle, her hand patting his knee with practiced care. He blinked open, his eyes red and swollen, brimming with desperation as he looked at her, seeing only the wife he wanted to believe in.

To him, she looked worn, her hair messy from "stress," her face flushed from "tears," her lips full and glossy with what he thought was sorrow. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers trembling. "You look exhausted, Theresa. This hit you hard too, didn't it?"

She nodded, forcing a small, sad smile, her eyes softening just enough to sell the lie. "Yeah, it's been heavy. But we'll get through it together." Her words dripped with false comfort, but inside, her blood sang with the ease of her deception, the thrill of fooling him so completely.

Thorne turned to Devon, his face raw with hope, searching for salvation in the man who'd just fucked his wife senseless.

Devon leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking softly under his weight. He let the silence stretch, watching Elias squirm, his discomfort a toy to be played with. Then he spoke, his voice low and grave, carrying the weight of divine authority. "Sir Thorne, during that prayer, something extraordinary happened. A vision came to me, clear as the morning sun, sent straight from God."

Thorne froze, his eyes widening, pupils dilating with fear and awe. His hands clenched on the pew, the wood biting into his palms, leaving faint red marks. "A vision? About me?"

"Hope all is well, pastor Daniel?" His voice cracked, high and shaky, his body leaning forward as if pulled by an invisible thread. Sweat glistened on his neck, his legs shaking, his heart pounding so loud Theresa could feel its echo in her own chest. "What was it? Tell me, please!"

Devon paused, drawing out the tension, his eyes narrowing as if he were peering into the divine itself. "It was dark, a storm of shadows swallowing you whole. I saw pain piling upon you, heavier than you can imagine, your home in ruins, its walls crumbling to dust. Friends turning their backs, your health failing, your body wasting away under sickness, your nights endless with torment. It begins small, like this betrayal you feel, but it grows into a tempest that devours everything you hold dear."

Thorne gasped, his face draining to a ghostly white, his breath hitching in his throat. He gripped Theresa's hand so tightly his nails dug into her skin, but she didn't flinch, her expression calm. "Why? What did I do to deserve this? How do I stop it?" His words spilled out in a frantic rush, his eyes wild with panic, his body trembling as if the vision were already unfolding.

Devon sighed, his face heavy with feigned sorrow, as if the burden of the vision weighed on him too. "God showed the way out, Thorne, but it's a narrow path. Sacrifice is the key, surrender to His will." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "First, you must abstain from all physical intimacy for twenty years. Not a touch, not a caress, not with anyone, not even your wife. It purifies your soul, burns away the poison that threatens to consume you."

Thorne recoiled, his eyes darting to Theresa, shock etched into every line of his face. "Twenty years? But… we're married!" His voice broke, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks, his hands trembling as he clutched hers.

"That's not all," Devon continued, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "I'll give you anointing oil, blessed right here in this sacred space." He reached into his desk, pulling out a small glass vial, the liquid inside catching the candlelight in a golden shimmer. He held it up, letting it gleam like a holy relic. "Rub it on your forehead and chest every day, morning and night. It's a shield against the evil that stalks you."

Thorne stared at the vial, mesmerized, his breath shallow, his hands twitching as if longing to snatch it. "And what else?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, fear and desperation choking every syllable.

Devon's voice grew softer, almost tender, "The final piece, you mustn't have any fights, arguments, no standing up to anyone. Accept what comes with open arms, trust in faith alone. Push back, even once, and the vision becomes reality. Follow this path, and blessings will follow, peace, perhaps wealth, even healing for your broken heart."

Thorne slumped forward, his head dropping into his hands, his body shaking with the weight of it all. "Twenty years… no touching my wife."

Theresa rubbed his back, her touch gentle, her fingers tracing slow circles around him.

"I suggest you begin the prayer tonight, take the oil and may the lord guide you." Devon handed the vial over, and Thorne clutched the vial tightly, his knuckles white, nodding as if in a trance. "I will. Anything to fix this."

After a moment, Elias rose shakily, pulling her up with him, his hand still gripping hers like a lifeline. "Let's go home," he muttered.

"Thank you very much pastor, I really appreciate your effort."