Hera's heart pounded like a war drum as she slipped out of her apartment at 10:45 PM, the sheer robe whispering against her skin as she walked like a black cat in the night, forever watchful of her steps.
The black lace bra cradled her heavy t**s, n*****s poking through the thin fabric, while the thong wedged between her ass cheeks, already damp from the shower fantasy.
Midnight loomed, but Father Richard's command echoed: behind the altar and all she could think about was how to meet up to fulfil his command.
The church loomed dark against the sky, Hera wondered if the heavenly saints were watching her do the unthinkable. She jimmied the side door—left unlocked for her, she hoped—and padded inside on stockinged feet, heels tucked in her purse to muffle steps.
The nave was pitch black,
