Indian mom and black priest
The political condition between our country and our neighbors was boiling. Talks of an upcoming invasion filled the air. Our village was situated on the border of the two countries so the villagers were always waiting for any piece of news on the fragile peace between our two countries.
I was born to my dad and mom soon after they married. At the time of the story, I was ************** and I had no brothers or sisters. I still remember my parents citing the cause of not having other c***dren to the bad economic and political situation of the country. We were a happy little family although my dad was a very stern man. I rarely remember seeing him laughing or smiling. He was strict with my mother although she was his first sweetheart in the village. Mom and dad didn’t continue their education but they knew the minimum to read and write. Their education was mainly administered by the local church and that was why my father had a great respect for the priests and the clergy in general.
Mom was always obedient to dad as was the norm in villages at that time. Whatever dad said was the right thing for mom. She never objected and I could always see the acceptance in her beautiful blue eyes. Mom was 30 years old back then, five years younger than dad. Her long blond hair flowed over her shoulders and her slender figure matched with her medium height. Mom was blessed with a pair of big breasts that were very hard to conceal and were complemented by a small firm ass.
On the other hand, my father worked in the fields all day and sold the vegetables and the meat from the cattle every few weeks to make a living. This work made him stay in good shape for his age. He was around 180 cm tall, which was considered tall in our village. All the people in the village knew that dad was a very strict man through his way of parenting me. When I was little, I used to be afraid of dad but I also admired him for his masculinity and his strength.
One sacred date for my parents and especially dad was every Sunday. We went to church to attend the mass and we never missed a mass in my youth. So we lead a pious life and even though we weren’t rich we were able to get by in our modest life in the village.
A few months after my fifth birthday I remember that a gas leak accident in the monastery lead to the tragic death of our elderly bishop in the village. I still remember that dad and mom were very upset as was the whole village. The priest that came after the late bishop needed a place to live for a few months until the monastery was restituted. Dad was the first man in the village to insist on welcoming the new priest in our house as we had an empty guest room. Dad said that the priest staying in our home would be a blessing for our family.
The rest of the village was a little apprehensive when they knew that the priest assigned to our village was from our neighboring country. In those political conditions, our people weren’t very sympathetic with the neighbors, but a priest was an exception and dad made sure that all of the village knew that fact.
A few days later, my grandfather came to visit us. Dad was a copy of his father. It was granddad who taught dad how to be a macho man and how to keep mom under a tight leash.
I also knew that grandfather disliked ****ers but I never knew why. I guess if Father Tyrone wasn’t a priest, dad wouldn’t let him inside the house also. But unlike granddad, dad was a devout religious man who dearly respected clergy no matter their race.
When grandfather arrived, mom and the black priest were already in session. He had heard about mom’ troubles and knew that a priest was living with us to exorcise the demons. What he didn’t know is that the priest was a muscular handsome macho ****er stud. He was about to get to know him soon.
The three men of the family – granddad, dad and me – were sitting like idiot wimps outside the room hearing mom moaning and begging for more as the black stud took what was dad’s on his marital bed. Grandfather was shocked at the sounds mom made but dad reassured him that the demons were being killed and she was fighting them off with the priest.
The fucking inside continued for thirty minutes as the priest mercilessly pounded the imaginary demons in mom’s addicted-to-black-cock cunt. As he discharged his virile seed in the place where only dad has the right to, he put on a shirt and shorts and went outside with mom.
Granddad couldn’t accept the fact that he was seeing a black man in his son’s house who has just left the bedroom with his son’ wife. Granddad was a big man. He rushed toward the black priest and slammed him a punch right in the jaw that made Father Tyrone reel in shock.
Mom screamed as dad tried to hold back my granddad.
“WHAT WAS THIS ****ER DOING WITH YOUR WIFE IN THE BEDROOM? WAS HE BREEDING HER?” screamed granddad as the blood rushed to his face.
“YOU ARE ALL THE SAME YOU DIRTY ****ERS!!!! ALL YOU WANT IS THE CUNT OF AN INDIAN MARRIED WOMAN.”
As he said that in a fit of anger, granddad collapsed on the ground because of a heart attack. We rushed him to the hospital. The black priest cleaned his face form the blood and looked at granddad with a look that scared me…
I was born to my dad and mom soon after they married. At the time of the story, I was ************** and I had no brothers or sisters. I still remember my parents citing the cause of not having other c***dren to the bad economic and political situation of the country. We were a happy little family although my dad was a very stern man. I rarely remember seeing him laughing or smiling. He was strict with my mother although she was his first sweetheart in the village. Mom and dad didn’t continue their education but they knew the minimum to read and write. Their education was mainly administered by the local church and that was why my father had a great respect for the priests and the clergy in general.
Mom was always obedient to dad as was the norm in villages at that time. Whatever dad said was the right thing for mom. She never objected and I could always see the acceptance in her beautiful blue eyes. Mom was 30 years old back then, five years younger than dad. Her long blond hair flowed over her shoulders and her slender figure matched with her medium height. Mom was blessed with a pair of big breasts that were very hard to conceal and were complemented by a small firm ass.
On the other hand, my father worked in the fields all day and sold the vegetables and the meat from the cattle every few weeks to make a living. This work made him stay in good shape for his age. He was around 180 cm tall, which was considered tall in our village. All the people in the village knew that dad was a very strict man through his way of parenting me. When I was little, I used to be afraid of dad but I also admired him for his masculinity and his strength.
One sacred date for my parents and especially dad was every Sunday. We went to church to attend the mass and we never missed a mass in my youth. So we lead a pious life and even though we weren’t rich we were able to get by in our modest life in the village.
A few months after my fifth birthday I remember that a gas leak accident in the monastery lead to the tragic death of our elderly bishop in the village. I still remember that dad and mom were very upset as was the whole village. The priest that came after the late bishop needed a place to live for a few months until the monastery was restituted. Dad was the first man in the village to insist on welcoming the new priest in our house as we had an empty guest room. Dad said that the priest staying in our home would be a blessing for our family.
The rest of the village was a little apprehensive when they knew that the priest assigned to our village was from our neighboring country. In those political conditions, our people weren’t very sympathetic with the neighbors, but a priest was an exception and dad made sure that all of the village knew that fact.
A few days later, my grandfather came to visit us. Dad was a copy of his father. It was granddad who taught dad how to be a macho man and how to keep mom under a tight leash.
I also knew that grandfather disliked ****ers but I never knew why. I guess if Father Tyrone wasn’t a priest, dad wouldn’t let him inside the house also. But unlike granddad, dad was a devout religious man who dearly respected clergy no matter their race.
When grandfather arrived, mom and the black priest were already in session. He had heard about mom’ troubles and knew that a priest was living with us to exorcise the demons. What he didn’t know is that the priest was a muscular handsome macho ****er stud. He was about to get to know him soon.
The three men of the family – granddad, dad and me – were sitting like idiot wimps outside the room hearing mom moaning and begging for more as the black stud took what was dad’s on his marital bed. Grandfather was shocked at the sounds mom made but dad reassured him that the demons were being killed and she was fighting them off with the priest.
The fucking inside continued for thirty minutes as the priest mercilessly pounded the imaginary demons in mom’s addicted-to-black-cock cunt. As he discharged his virile seed in the place where only dad has the right to, he put on a shirt and shorts and went outside with mom.
Granddad couldn’t accept the fact that he was seeing a black man in his son’s house who has just left the bedroom with his son’ wife. Granddad was a big man. He rushed toward the black priest and slammed him a punch right in the jaw that made Father Tyrone reel in shock.
Mom screamed as dad tried to hold back my granddad.
“WHAT WAS THIS ****ER DOING WITH YOUR WIFE IN THE BEDROOM? WAS HE BREEDING HER?” screamed granddad as the blood rushed to his face.
“YOU ARE ALL THE SAME YOU DIRTY ****ERS!!!! ALL YOU WANT IS THE CUNT OF AN INDIAN MARRIED WOMAN.”
As he said that in a fit of anger, granddad collapsed on the ground because of a heart attack. We rushed him to the hospital. The black priest cleaned his face form the blood and looked at granddad with a look that scared me…
13年前
