Possible Second Chance

✞ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝔽𝕚𝕧𝕖: 𝕁𝕖𝕜𝕪𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℍ𝕪𝕕𝕖✞

Her seductive caramel brown pools, engulfing the priest's self-esteem and scintillating luster rimming the warmest, most vibrant caramel brown fixed on him. The most radiant, keeping the deepest, most somber secrets and debarring its strawberry tongue to reproduce the secret's anthem smile, scintillating him along with her ogle.

Her lion mane of disheveled old Hollywood gilded tresses piled up on her dainty shoulders and framed exquisitely her round, full profile. Even without lavish gloss, the tresses were astoundingly distracting.

After the ambitious Monsignor's pale-pinkish lips pressed in a hardening, sultry kiss on the patient's roseate, soft as satin lips which complacently surprised the patient, due to the fact, the love of her life takes the first further step, whereas his both mammoth, veiny hands steadily held her slim waist.

Their abysses fluttered shut, molting in the kiss and alienating from their once solemnly taken vows, especially in the British compatriot's case.

What mesmerized the older lady was that the holy man wasn't formidably forceful pressured and everything seemed realistically natural. Oblivious reality muted their concerns and compunctions.

The younger man's career was menaced to go downhill after getting laid with one of the patients behind the dull infamous asylum's walls and earning the rebuking, judgmental glares of God that were darted to him and his lover. Who will own his virtue, intoxication sedated his muscles, bones and his thoughts by impeding them to function adequately and reminders in the form of dark inner voices echo him before his impulse.

In the meantime, his pristinely strong fingers cradled her slim, breathtaking curves through her rigidly shapeless patient gown. Jude's long as flute stings fingers managed to reach for his chestnut hair, combing it with her fingers' knuckles as a rich, mature harvest.

As the kiss progressed, growing into ferociously savage and savoring one another's sweetness of their mouths, their berry-coloured, cognac-stained wet tongues commenced dancing. Though the former pious sister of the church could promptly note something was off by judging how childlike insecurity peeled off the plate, stable armor of self-confidence from the British aristocrat's incessantly throbbing heart in his ribcage.

The heart rate's significant increase was catastrophic for him, blush flushing his neck whilst his strawberry-coloured tongue danced awkwardly, uneasily against Jude's.

"Is anything wrong, Timothy? Do ya want us to stop it?" Suddenly, the blonde murmured an enquiry in a low, husky voice until she plugged her tongue into his mouth, deepening into a French kiss without breaking it off.

"No, no! Of course not! I am just scared I am not doing it properly." At that moment, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's rear was riding his thighs, whilst her folds were already drenched and hankering shrilling after the bulge poked haphazardly her pubic bone and sought its cavern. "And I truly want it."

"Don't worry, darling! You are doing it amazing." A girlish, coy giggle tingled angelic anthems into his sensitive ears along with her guttural, rusty moans and groans. "I will teach ya only if ya take me to the bed in the other room." Meekly, the aspiring man of the cloth lugged by the waist the blonde, scooting up to the en-suite bedroom without breaking off the French kiss, whose still firm, ivory teeth for her age suckled on his lower baby-pinkish, plumpish lip.

The Boston honeyed lilt in accentuating the friendly nickname to Timothy sent shivers of pleasure, sweetness and mild embarrassment down his body until he dropped the former devotional woman of the cloth on the bed after stepping inside the en-suite bedroom.

"Now, get me rid of this tiresome gown!" Meantime, his fingers clumsily lifted up her patient robe's hem up to her abdomen until it was stripped off from her frail skeleton, and tossed in a discarded, disheveled manner on the cemented, chilly flooring.