Another Sunday morning spent feigning piety while my cunt aches for something far more carnal than communion. The way that young cleaner's strong hands grip his mop handle makes me wonder how they'd feel gripping my hips instead. I can almost taste the sweat on his skin as he works, imagining his thick cock filling me right here in the sacristy while the choir sings hymns overhead. The hypocrisy of this lace collar against my sinful thoughts is the sweetest kind of torment.