Categories > Anime/Manga > Weiss Kreuz
And the Good Girls go to Heaven: Farfarello
Contains Farfarello and a Catholic Priest, cross-dressing/gender-bending, fingering, masturbation, mild blasphemy and minor desecration. The third in a series (in the looset sense of the word) of W...
?Blocked
Author's note: I know the apparent out of characterness will burn at first, but trust me, there's a reason for it by the end.
*
"Forgive me, Father, but might I speak to you for a moment?"
Father McKinley turned around to smile at his parishioner and stopped short, blinking in surprise. Oh. Oh my. His 'parishioner' was a school girl, or... boy. Yes, definitely a school boy, but one that was dressed as a girl in a little pleated plaid skirt and a white blouse.
He coughed delicately and nodded. "Yes, of course, my child. Please, come into my office."
He led the girl - boy - into his office and shut the door behind them, surreptitiously sliding the lock into place. The boy - girl - fidgeted nervously with the hem of her skirt, unintentionally raising it a little, and revealing more of those supple white thighs. Father McKinley swallowed and tried to keep his smile in its usual Man-of-God lines. He certainly didn't stare at the gap in the boy's blouse where the top two buttons were undone over a smooth, flat expanse of chest and where a soft swell of breasts would have otherwise been.
"How can I help you my... daughter?" he asked, taking a seat behind his desk and indicating that he - she - should take the chair opposite. She did so, crossing her heels daintily at the ankles and tugging gently at the top of her white, knee high stockings. The short white hair was a little odd he had to admit, though cute in its way. The eye patch and scars were stranger still but, well, he was talking to a young man unsuccessfully attempting to imitate a young lady. Strange was rather par for the course at this point.
She flushed lightly, crossing and uncrossing her legs and oh! A small flash of white panties... Father McKinley's breath hitched and he felt his smile strain. "Is..." he cleared his throat and tried again."Is there something I can do for you?"
"Oh, Father!" breathed the girl, boy, succulent piece of pliant flesh, sitting across from him. She leaned forward, pushing her hands into her lap so that her skirt pressed down between her knees. "I'm too embarrassed to say."
Steady now, steady. Father McKinley straightened in his chair. "Well, why don't you come over here and whisper it in my ear then?"
She flushed a little more darkly and stood, shyly coming around behind the desk to stand beside him. She hesitated a moment before sliding to sit in his lap, her legs dangling at his side, and slipped her hands around his neck. She pressed her mouth to Father McKinley's ear, and whispered "I have such terrible fantasies about you, Father."
His prick twitched insistently beneath his robes and there was very little chance that the boy sitting in his lap hadn't felt that, or it's rather obvious hardness for that matter. She giggled and squirmed in his lap. "I imagine doing such sinful things." she continued, and then moaned softly as Father McKinley decided that now was a perfectly good time to fondle her thigh, sneaking his hand beneath her skirt.
"I want to do things." she murmured and Father McKinley stroked his fingers over the satiny white panties, feeling the answering bulge there. She squirmed again and panted. "Oh, oh Father, I..."
"Shh." He hushed her, running a tongue over his lips, "We don't want anyone coming in, now do we?"
She shook her head. "No, we don't want anyone to see this but oh, Father, I want to, I want to..."
Lube, where was his God-be-damned lubricant? He fumbled clumsily in his drawers, clasping it with a groan of relief when he finally found the tube. "Father, Father." moaned the girl on his lap and he hastily slicked up two fingers, flicking the girls skirt up over her arse and pushing her panties out of the way. He pressed into the crevice and there, oh yes, was what he wanted; the hot little hole that, if everything kept going this unbelievably well, would soon be fitted tightly around his prick.
He pushed in and the girl whined and pushed back. "Harder", she said, rocking onto his fingers, "More fingers and harder." Obligingly Father McKinley added a third finger and pushed and twisted them until she arched her back, her hands buried between her legs to grip and stroke her pretty, dripping little cock.
"Oh, Father," she panted, "I want to kill you. I want to peel your skin from your body, pluck your eyes from your head. I want to roast your blasphemous flesh and eat it. Oh, Father, I want to cover myself in your blood and keep your fingers to make a necklace from."
She came with a sharp little cry and then looked at Father McKinley's horrified face with a devious and wicked grin. A knife had come from nowhere at all and the boy dragged it over his own tongue, opening a shallow cut that dripped blood onto his white chin and Father McKinley's black robes.
"You're sick, young man. You need help." Father McKinley whispered, his prick shriveling in disgust and not a little bit of fear.
"Aye" Farfarello agreed, shifting the knife so its tip pressed into the skin just above Father McKinley's collar. "But no more so than you, eh, Father?" He clenched around the fingers still in him and Father McKinley withdrew them with a whimper. "Now, what say we have some real fun?"
*
A little old lady hurried past the pews and out of the church, muttering angrily and blushing a horrified pink.
"Is that really necessary?" Crawford asked, frowning at Schuldig irritably. The rub of it was that he couldn't even complain since he had been the one to ask Schuldig to find a way to keep Farfarello's religious massacres from becoming such ... massacres.
"Mm, yeah. Oh yeah, definitely necessary, trust me on this." Schuldig purred, languidly slouching in his seat and stroking his softening cock, ignoring the come splattered on his pants and the back of the pew in front of him. "Who'd have thought Farfie could be such a good little actress?"
*
"Forgive me, Father, but might I speak to you for a moment?"
Father McKinley turned around to smile at his parishioner and stopped short, blinking in surprise. Oh. Oh my. His 'parishioner' was a school girl, or... boy. Yes, definitely a school boy, but one that was dressed as a girl in a little pleated plaid skirt and a white blouse.
He coughed delicately and nodded. "Yes, of course, my child. Please, come into my office."
He led the girl - boy - into his office and shut the door behind them, surreptitiously sliding the lock into place. The boy - girl - fidgeted nervously with the hem of her skirt, unintentionally raising it a little, and revealing more of those supple white thighs. Father McKinley swallowed and tried to keep his smile in its usual Man-of-God lines. He certainly didn't stare at the gap in the boy's blouse where the top two buttons were undone over a smooth, flat expanse of chest and where a soft swell of breasts would have otherwise been.
"How can I help you my... daughter?" he asked, taking a seat behind his desk and indicating that he - she - should take the chair opposite. She did so, crossing her heels daintily at the ankles and tugging gently at the top of her white, knee high stockings. The short white hair was a little odd he had to admit, though cute in its way. The eye patch and scars were stranger still but, well, he was talking to a young man unsuccessfully attempting to imitate a young lady. Strange was rather par for the course at this point.
She flushed lightly, crossing and uncrossing her legs and oh! A small flash of white panties... Father McKinley's breath hitched and he felt his smile strain. "Is..." he cleared his throat and tried again."Is there something I can do for you?"
"Oh, Father!" breathed the girl, boy, succulent piece of pliant flesh, sitting across from him. She leaned forward, pushing her hands into her lap so that her skirt pressed down between her knees. "I'm too embarrassed to say."
Steady now, steady. Father McKinley straightened in his chair. "Well, why don't you come over here and whisper it in my ear then?"
She flushed a little more darkly and stood, shyly coming around behind the desk to stand beside him. She hesitated a moment before sliding to sit in his lap, her legs dangling at his side, and slipped her hands around his neck. She pressed her mouth to Father McKinley's ear, and whispered "I have such terrible fantasies about you, Father."
His prick twitched insistently beneath his robes and there was very little chance that the boy sitting in his lap hadn't felt that, or it's rather obvious hardness for that matter. She giggled and squirmed in his lap. "I imagine doing such sinful things." she continued, and then moaned softly as Father McKinley decided that now was a perfectly good time to fondle her thigh, sneaking his hand beneath her skirt.
"I want to do things." she murmured and Father McKinley stroked his fingers over the satiny white panties, feeling the answering bulge there. She squirmed again and panted. "Oh, oh Father, I..."
"Shh." He hushed her, running a tongue over his lips, "We don't want anyone coming in, now do we?"
She shook her head. "No, we don't want anyone to see this but oh, Father, I want to, I want to..."
Lube, where was his God-be-damned lubricant? He fumbled clumsily in his drawers, clasping it with a groan of relief when he finally found the tube. "Father, Father." moaned the girl on his lap and he hastily slicked up two fingers, flicking the girls skirt up over her arse and pushing her panties out of the way. He pressed into the crevice and there, oh yes, was what he wanted; the hot little hole that, if everything kept going this unbelievably well, would soon be fitted tightly around his prick.
He pushed in and the girl whined and pushed back. "Harder", she said, rocking onto his fingers, "More fingers and harder." Obligingly Father McKinley added a third finger and pushed and twisted them until she arched her back, her hands buried between her legs to grip and stroke her pretty, dripping little cock.
"Oh, Father," she panted, "I want to kill you. I want to peel your skin from your body, pluck your eyes from your head. I want to roast your blasphemous flesh and eat it. Oh, Father, I want to cover myself in your blood and keep your fingers to make a necklace from."
She came with a sharp little cry and then looked at Father McKinley's horrified face with a devious and wicked grin. A knife had come from nowhere at all and the boy dragged it over his own tongue, opening a shallow cut that dripped blood onto his white chin and Father McKinley's black robes.
"You're sick, young man. You need help." Father McKinley whispered, his prick shriveling in disgust and not a little bit of fear.
"Aye" Farfarello agreed, shifting the knife so its tip pressed into the skin just above Father McKinley's collar. "But no more so than you, eh, Father?" He clenched around the fingers still in him and Father McKinley withdrew them with a whimper. "Now, what say we have some real fun?"
*
A little old lady hurried past the pews and out of the church, muttering angrily and blushing a horrified pink.
"Is that really necessary?" Crawford asked, frowning at Schuldig irritably. The rub of it was that he couldn't even complain since he had been the one to ask Schuldig to find a way to keep Farfarello's religious massacres from becoming such ... massacres.
"Mm, yeah. Oh yeah, definitely necessary, trust me on this." Schuldig purred, languidly slouching in his seat and stroking his softening cock, ignoring the come splattered on his pants and the back of the pew in front of him. "Who'd have thought Farfie could be such a good little actress?"
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