fertile myrtle

Her legs locked around her father’s leg harder this time, clamping down in earnest. Her whole body shuddered like she was shivering in the cold. And she let out an unrestrained gasp of pleasure, her lips inadvertently opening and rubbing against the helmet of her father, the tip of his penis slipping between them and onto her tongue.

“If God was angry at you, do you not think him capable of clearly telling you? You say you have dirtied your soul in the eyes of God, but that is because you feel that way, not because God appeared and told you. There are two errors that people make regarding their faith. The first is believing that they understand God, that God shares their values and thinks like they do. To think that you can know what God feels, wants, believes, and demands is the ultimate hubris, surpassed only by declaring yourself God.

Once she’d finally found a good spot, she remembered what she was trying to do. Slowly and steadily, she brought her hand up and over his chest, the light sheet rippling above her the only thing keeping them from the warm autumn night. Again, she brought it down past the end of the hair on his belly and only stopped once she felt that rough patch of hair just above his groin. With only the moon filtering through the sheet above she could barely make it out as she peered over her dad’s waist. Short and curly, much curlier than his armpit hair, pitch-black, though most of his hair was with only a bit of grey poking through.