‘Elena, what are you doing?’ He exclaimed stunned. She had asked to meet him, she’d said it was urgent then when he had gone to the church he had found her lying naked on the altar, bathed in the flickering light of the candles that surrounded her.

‘Waiting for you, Father,’ she replied, her lightly accented voice sweet and husky as she rubbed the glistening candle she held slowly along the length of her thigh, and he immediately discounted the voice in his head that told him what she had been doing with it.

‘For goodness sake child, cover yourself, this is a house of God,’ he rasped his voice grating as he stared at her aghast, unable to stop his overpowering, carnal response to the sight of her young, exposed flesh. Eyes raking over her, he flushed deeply as he absorbed the way her skin gleamed like an iridescent pearl, its downy surface both shadowed and shimmered by the radiating light. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as she rolled sedately onto her side, a move that made her breasts sway invitingly. They were surprisingly large, milk white and tipped with pale nipples that puckered and beckoned, their areolas the same shade of coffee as her expressive, lovely eyes.

Stroking wanton hands along her body, her motion drew his attention to her tiny waist, a breadth that if he tested it he could easily fit both his hands around. His eyes tracked her as her fingers dipped languidly, sliding along her soft, slightly rounded belly down towards her groin. Swallowing with a desperate gulp, his mouth automatically refilled with saliva as she gently caressed whispering fingers across her profusion of dark curls, their allure and promise summoning him to her.

He tensed as swinging her legs over the side of the altar she slid down onto bare feet, her tread light as she sedately advanced on him, her body swaying with carnal knowledge. Legs shaking he stood pinioned, unable to tear his eyes away from her, his lungs heaving for air as his mouth dropped open.

‘Do you like what you see Father?’ She whispered, smiling knowingly, her voice dragging his eyes upwards so that he feasted upon her angelic face, wanting to touch her long, soft, wavy hair and feel her lips upon him.

Feeling faint and hot he stared at her, mouth agape, before he finally rasped. ‘Elena, what are you saying? You, you must get dressed, please…’ His protests sounded feeble even to his own ears and did nothing to halt her unerring advance. As he frantically searched his mind for what to do, he wondered if he’d brought this upon himself, if he had encouraged her in some way. But she was such a quiet helpful child his brain pleaded, happily assisting her mother when she came to clean both the church and his modest home at the back. Making such deft and pretty flower and food arrangements for the harvest festival, leaving little posies in his room and small cakes decorated with his name for his supper. The older ladies of the church doted on her. She was always doing little errands for them, helping them with their shopping and their coats, her voice ringing sweet and clear alongside theirs when they sang the weekly hymns.

Captivated from the first, he adored her too. She was the daughter he could never have. The angel sent to comfort him, when he grieved at his lack of family. How could anyone not want her near them? She was so beautiful, so pleasurable, so enchanting. But not like this, in his heart he knew that he had not thought of her like this. She was a child, yet the flesh that touched him now, a shock of heat against his cold shivering, wasn’t a child’s flesh and it was the musky aroma and desires of a woman that was assailing his nostrils and senses.

‘Elena, please my child this is wrong…’ he murmured, his hands catching her instinctively as she entwined her arms around his neck, rubbing herself along him.

‘Is it Father? Is it so wrong?’ She demanded her eyes round with innocence as her mouth sought his.

Her lips were so soft and inviting, so right; he opened his own instinctively as her tongue swelled into his mouth, her tentative probing filling him with heat and desire. His own reaction was so vividly lustful, so primeval that it shook him to his core, his senses swimming with her as she ran her hands over him.

‘It’s okay Father,’ she whispered her hands reaching beneath his robe, freeing him from the constraints of his underwear. ‘I know you want me and I want you, so have me, you can have me any way you want.’ Pulling his unresisting hands down she pressed herself against him, inflaming him further, his whole body screaming for release, begging to feel what it would like to be able to make love to her.

‘Stop,’ he finally gasped, pushing her away. ‘You must stop!’ He howled, the sound wrenched from his very soul as he stood before her his chest heaving, his face flushed with desire. ‘This is a house of G-God. I am your P-Priest!’ He finally stammered.
‘And you are also a man,’ she smiled reaching out to him again.

He knew in that fleeting moment that if she touched him again, he would be lost. With one last valiant effort he pushed her so hard away from him that she staggered backwards, losing her balance. Then he did the only thing he could think of. He ran.