After ten frantic minutes her fleshy frame relaxed and a calmness settled in. My body went limp. The Priestess withdrew herself from my raw, red cock and the juices flooded down her thick legs. She bent down and kissed the tip of my shriveling tool. Brea presented me with another goblet of the warm, fruity elixir, and I felt instantly revived, though quite disoriented. My mother bowed deeply and led the gathered masses in a solemn oath. “All hail our new Master, hail Lord Aragon. I am your Priestess and you are my Lord.” She rose sweetly. She then sent Brea into the deepening shadows and kissed my eyelids and then my lips and the sticky head of my cock. Circe fastened the crimson robe around her sweaty, flushed body and caressed my growing prick.
“It’s time to announce your presence to our world,” Circe proclaimed to me and to the room. “You are Aragon; seventh of your line. Warlock and Master of this coven. It is the moment to initiate the acolytes.” It was only then that I spied the additions and subtractions to the large, smoky sanctuary. Wall sconces were lit, giving a subtle, eerie glow to the room, and on stone benches strategically placed around the walls, naked women lay. I had not noticed any other movement during my ordeal, but now with my eyes accustomed to the dim light, I saw two bodies laying on cloth-covered “altars.”
With my mom leading me by my firm prick, I was escorted to the first proffered woman. The first thing I witnessed was Brea, leaning over the supine form of this first woman, licking and slobbering on her curly-haired genitals. I only saw a pair of long, bare legs, pink pussy lips spread wide with Brea’s lips humming away, and both women diddling their own cunts and moaning obscenely. My grandmother was deliriously poking her pointy tongue in the light blonde bush of this woman and plying two slick fingers inside her own snatch.
The woman’s robe was thrown open and she was up on her elbows watching my grandmother practice her cunnilingus. Brea’s snaky tongue flicked at the hood of her swollen vagina, and one hand was twisting it’s path inside the girl. In the flickering candle light I could see her face, it was a woman I knew from the neighborhood. She had long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes on a round, angelic face. She was probably near thirty years old. And I think she was married with children. But still as I approached her, with my mother’s hand gripping my thick prick, and my grandmother eating her pussy; she said, “I’ve been looking forward to your accession for many years, my Lord. Take me, fill me. I’m yours.”
With her white robe open, I could see the obvious signs of childbirth on her naked frame. Her hips were wide with visible stretch marks and her breasts drooped with age lines. I was worried instantly that her husband or some man would come looking for me. The priestess saw my confused look and reassured me, “She is yours my Lord, she comes on her own to be one with you. You honor her with your ‘gift.'”
She was certainly sexy, toying with her pussy and watching Brea eat her out. The muscles of her trim belly and thighs start to contract with the approach of her orgasm. Brea, one hand rubbing her own wiry pubes, and the other driving in and out of her supplicant’s vagina, was softly wailing. At a sign from the Priestess, she scrambled across the stone floor to the second woman.