“You always touch yourself for me,” he murmured as his fingers brushed my mound gently, “let me touch you, please?”“Jacob,” I moaned softl...“We have plenty of time to kill,” he whispered as his fingers stroked along the edges of my cotton panties, pressing a kiss to my neck below my ear, “let me,”I couldn’t speak so I only nodded. His fingers slid beneath the fabric caressing the lips of my pussy gently. “Look at me,” he growled softly as my eyes started to close.I moaned and forced myself to. For a moment, Father Augustine thought he heard a wicked laugh drift through his ears.After deposing his duffel bag and Joy's backpack in his small, austere bedroom—a small bed, white comforter, nightstand, crucifix on the wall, and a single photo of his dead sister—the priest strode back to his church. His dick ached. He fought the urge to squeeze himself."To be a hunter of evil," Father Augustine said, "you must be aware of your surroundings and know how to move undetected." Yes, Father," Joy. More

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