signus crucis

Every Sunday morning, Tracey would dress in her favourite blue floral dress and meet her girlfriends at church. She always looked forward to this; her religious experience seemed to be greater when her friends were there with her.

I remember very vividly one Sunday morning in June. I saw Tracey make the sign of the cross, on her knees, in her favourite blue floral dress.

“In nominee, patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti”

I finished her words.

I said “Amen” as my cock slid between her lips.

Tracey was a good catholic girl. Very good in fact. Her friends would not see Tracey on that Sunday morning in June. If only they could. I would let them watch, if they wanted to.

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