“Open up, Sister. Your sacrament is waiting.” Pastor Marcus’s voice was a low rumble, his thumb tracing the line of my bottom lip. I parted my mouth without hesitation, my black eyes fixed on the thick, pearly drop beading at the tip of his cock. The scent of him, musky and sacred, filled the air.My day of devotion had begun.The first taste was always the purest. Warm, slightly salty, a rich and heavy fluid that coated my tongue. I moaned around him, my own personal prayer, as he fed me his release. I swallowed, my throat working desperately, feeling the heat of it slide down into my belly. He grunted, his fingers tangling in my brown hair, holding me firm as he gave me the last of it.“A good start, Teressa,” he murmured, pulling away. “The congregation awaits your blessings.”They were already there, a sea of men lining the halls of the priory, their eyes glazed with a reverence that was indistinguishable from lust. The goal was divine: to be filled, to the point of excess, to the point of overflowing. To be the vessel for a thousand offerings.My H-cup breasts, constrained by the simple white fabric of my habit, felt heavy and full, a deep ache building within them. My body was an altar, and today, it would be worshipped without end.The first man was young, barely out of boyhood, his hands trembling as he pushed up my robes. I guided him to the floor, on my back, my massive tits spilling out, swaying with the movement. His eyes went wide. “Bless me, Sister,” he whispered, sinking into me. He was quick, a frantic, shallow fuck that ended with a gasp and a flood of warmth inside my cunt. I clenched around him, milking him dry, feeling the first seed take root.He was replaced before he’d even pulled out. An older man, weathered and strong, turned me onto my hands and knees. “Gonna fuck these magnificent tits,” he growled, his voice rough. He slapped his cock against my chest, the sound echoing in the hall, before sliding his length between the valley of my breasts. The weight of them, the soft, giving flesh, enveloped him. He fucked my tits with hard, deep strokes, his gaze locked on where he disappeared into my skin. His release shot across my neck and chin, painting me with his devotion.The pace was relentless. A line of men, a river of flesh and need. They took me from behind, pounding into my ass until I saw stars, my own cries lost in the symphony of grunts and groans. They came on my face, thick ropes of cum streaking through my brown hair, clinging to my eyelashes. They fucked my mouth, holding my head steady as they thrust deep, and I drank every last drop, my throat burning with the constant, willing violation.One man, his body slick with sweat, pressed the head of his cock against my flared nostril. “Every hole, Sister. Every fucking hole is holy.” The pressure was immense, a strange, invasive stretch, but the ecstasy was in the surrender. He came in my nose, a shocking, hot gush that I could taste at the back of my throat, a new kind of communion.My world narrowed to the rhythm of it. In. Out. Fill. Spill.Her cunt was a well-used, gloriously slick channel, gripping and milking each cock that claimed it.Her ass was a tight, burning inferno of pleasure-pain,every thrust a brutal prayer.Her mouth was a wanton, dripping mess, tongue swirling, lips stretched, forever swallowing.And her tits… oh, her tits were a spectacle, jiggling and bouncing with every movement, covered in a glistening map of spent passion, heavy orbs for men to grab, suck, and fuck.The numbers blurred. The 50th. The 200th. The 500th. My body was no longer my own; it was a thing of divine function, a conduit for ecstasy. A breeding vessel designed to be stuffed, seeded, and overfilled. The thought of it, the sheer possibility of life taking hold amidst this glorious abuse, made me clench around the 743rd cock, earning a guttural shout from its owner.“Fuck, yes, take it, you perfect fuckhole. Gonna pump you so full, nun. Gonna make sure it takes.”The final man, number 958, was the last in a very long line. He was immense, his cock a terrifying, beautiful weapon. He fucked me with a slow, devastating finality, his hands gripping my hipbones, his eyes on the mess he was churning within me. My belly felt sloshy, full to bursting with the offerings of hundreds.“I’m gonna come inside that wrecked cunt, Sister,” he rasped, his thrusts becoming erratic, powerful. “Gonna add my load to the ocean in your womb. You feel that? You feel all of us in there?”I did. A tidal wave of completion was building inside me, a pressure that had nothing to do with my own orgasm and everything to do with the sheer volume of seed I’d been given. I was a living, breathing creampie, a cum bucket overflowing.He slammed into me one last time, and I felt the hot, desperate pulse of his orgasm, a final, massive contribution. But he didn’t pull out. He collapsed on top of me, his weight a comforting anchor, his cock still nestled deep inside, still twitching, still connected. The sensation was overwhelming. The slow, post-orgasm leaks, the intimate trickle of him, of them, the warmth that seemed to have no end.He nuzzled my neck, his breath hot on my ear. “Still fucking full of me. Still fucking full of all of us. Isn’t that right, Sister?”

“Open up, Sister. Your sacrament is waiting.” Pastor Marcus’s voice was a low rumble, his thumb tracing the line of my bottom lip. I parted my mouth without hesitation, my black eyes fixed on the thick, pearly drop beading at the tip of his cock. The scent of him, musky and sacred, filled the air.

_My day of devotion had begun._

The first taste was always the purest. Warm, slightly salty, a rich and heavy fluid that coated my tongue. I moaned around him, my own personal prayer, as he fed me his release. I swallowed, my throat working desperately, feeling the heat of it slide down into my belly. He grunted, his fingers tangling in my brown hair, holding me firm as he gave me the last of it.

“A good start, Teressa,” he murmured, pulling away. “The congregation awaits your blessings.”

They were already there, a sea of men lining the halls of the priory, their eyes glazed with a reverence that was indistinguishable from lust. The goal was divine: to be filled, to the point of excess, to the point of overflowing. To be the vessel for a thousand offerings.

My H-cup breasts, constrained by the simple white fabric of my habit, felt heavy and full, a deep ache building within them. My body was an altar, and today, it would be worshipped without end.

The first man was young, barely out of boyhood, his hands trembling as he pushed up my robes. I guided him to the floor, on my back, my massive tits spilling out, swaying with the movement. His eyes went wide. “Bless me, Sister,” he whispered, sinking into me. He was quick, a frantic, shallow fuck that ended with a gasp and a flood of warmth inside my cunt. I clenched around him, milking him dry, feeling the first seed take root.

He was replaced before he’d even pulled out. An older man, weathered and strong, turned me onto my hands and knees. “Gonna fuck these magnificent tits,” he growled, his voice rough. He slapped his cock against my chest, the sound echoing in the hall, before sliding his length between the valley of my breasts. The weight of them, the soft, giving flesh, enveloped him. He fucked my tits with hard, deep strokes, his gaze locked on where he disappeared into my skin. His release shot across my neck and chin, painting me with his devotion.

The pace was relentless. A line of men, a river of flesh and need. They took me from behind, pounding into my ass until I saw stars, my own cries lost in the symphony of grunts and groans. They came on my face, thick ropes of cum streaking through my brown hair, clinging to my eyelashes. They fucked my mouth, holding my head steady as they thrust deep, and I drank every last drop, my throat burning with the constant, willing violation.

One man, his body slick with sweat, pressed the head of his cock against my flared nostril. “Every hole, Sister. Every fucking hole is holy.” The pressure was immense, a strange, invasive stretch, but the ecstasy was in the surrender. He came in my nose, a shocking, hot gush that I could taste at the back of my throat, a new kind of communion.

My world narrowed to the rhythm of it. In. Out. Fill. Spill.
_Her cunt was a well-used, gloriously slick channel, gripping and milking each cock that claimed it._
_Her ass was a tight, burning inferno of pleasure-pain,every thrust a brutal prayer._
_Her mouth was a wanton, dripping mess, tongue swirling, lips stretched, forever swallowing._
And her tits… _oh, her tits were a spectacle, jiggling and bouncing with every movement, covered in a glistening map of spent passion, heavy orbs for men to grab, suck, and fuck._

The numbers blurred. The 50th. The 200th. The 500th. My body was no longer my own; it was a thing of divine function, a conduit for ecstasy. A breeding vessel designed to be stuffed, seeded, and overfilled. The thought of it, the sheer possibility of life taking hold amidst this glorious abuse, made me clench around the 743rd cock, earning a guttural shout from its owner.

“Fuck, yes, take it, you perfect fuckhole. Gonna pump you so full, nun. Gonna make sure it takes.”

The final man, number 958, was the last in a very long line. He was immense, his cock a terrifying, beautiful weapon. He fucked me with a slow, devastating finality, his hands gripping my hipbones, his eyes on the mess he was churning within me. My belly felt sloshy, full to bursting with the offerings of hundreds.

“I’m gonna come inside that wrecked cunt, Sister,” he rasped, his thrusts becoming erratic, powerful. “Gonna add my load to the ocean in your womb. You feel that? You feel all of us in there?”

I did. A tidal wave of completion was building inside me, a pressure that had nothing to do with my own orgasm and everything to do with the sheer volume of seed I’d been given. I was a living, breathing creampie, a cum bucket overflowing.

He slammed into me one last time, and I felt the hot, desperate pulse of his orgasm, a final, massive contribution. But he didn’t pull out. He collapsed on top of me, his weight a comforting anchor, his cock still nestled deep inside, still twitching, still connected. The sensation was overwhelming. The slow, post-orgasm leaks, the intimate trickle of him, of *them*, the warmth that seemed to have no end.

He nuzzled my neck, his breath hot on my ear. “Still fucking full of me. Still fucking full of all of us. Isn’t that right, Sister?”

In a world where sexual devotion is a sacred duty, Teressa, a nun with a voluptuous figure, begins her day by drinking the pastor's cum, marking the start of a relentless 24-hour ordeal of being fucked by 958 men of all ages, in every hole, including her nose.

Her massive tits are a focal point, used and worshipped throughout the day, as she is filled, bred, and overfilled by countless men, her body becoming a living, breathing creampie, a vessel of divine seed.

Busty Nun's Endless Creampie Communion

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