The Travels Of A Nymphomaniac 2 The Devil Under The Cassock.

Without wasting a moment, very anxious about this object which has only ever served him to fulfill his most natural needs, Dimitry opens his robe and discovers with horror his strangely slimy holy limb whose purplish colour begins to turn black.

"h.e.l.lo monk, I'm glad to see you're finally up and about."

The young man, who has taken off his robe and exposed the object that causes him so much misery, holds his holy limb between his fingers and auscultates it to better determine where the evil comes from, when, behind his back, he suddenly perceives a sensual young woman's voice that seems to be speaking to him, he shudders.

Quickly, so that the unknown woman does not misunderstand his action, he folds his robe over his thighs, then the young monk turns around to discover to whom this sweet voice with such a joyful tone belongs.

The young woman is so tall, so beautiful. She has very long legs on which he can see a strange milky white liquid descending from her very short skirt, and apart from her two enormous b.r.e.a.s.t.s which sway to the rhythm of her footsteps, the body of the blonde beauty who quietly approaches him, is worthy of the holy women represented in sacred books.

Amazed to be in the presence of a G.o.ddess descended from the sky whose body is hotter than an blaze in which chestnuts are cooked, the pure and chaste monk feels a sensation rising in him that until then was unknown to him.

Slowly, very slowly, he feels his holy limb, which seems to have gone mad, trying to harden. Quickly, subjected to an already unbearable pain that only grows as his crotch struggles against his fatigue, the young monk's face turns gray.

"Here, this is for you! As I suspected that you would lack strength after the ordeal you endured this morning, I set out to find some food that will allow you to recover quickly."

Faced with such kindness, the young monk understands that he was not mistaken: what a holy woman! In the face of so much kindness, Dimitry ignores his uneasiness for a moment and kneels down on his knees.

"Holy woman, my possessions are very thin, and though I don't know how I will ever be able to thank you for all you do for me, know that as a servant of the G.o.ds, my body and soul are now yours."

"I hope you don't regret your words, handsome."

"Hey, ????"

…

Apples, orange shavings, bananas and even eleven large pieces of greasy meat.

For the young monk, who all his life led a simple life devoted to the G.o.ds, all this food that this young woman collected for him is like a heavenly feast.

Leaning against the edge of the well, with an apple in his right hand and a slice of beef in his left, Dimitry eagerly bites into these delicacies that will allow him to regain his strength.

Certainly, his morale is not the best. Of his village, there's nothing left but still smoldering ashes and worse, all his brothers have been ma.s.sacred.

Although all this happened very brutally, the young monk does not sink into sadness because if it is so, it is only because the G.o.ds wished it.

Between pieces of meat, bites of fruit, at last, after twenty minutes, she returns.

She has combed her hair in a ponytail? This hairstyle makes her look softer and younger.

Dimitry smiles at the beauty who appears from a deserted street corner, without forgetting to take a bite of his orange.

"Glad to see that you've regained your strength, monk. Now you can move by yourself, we'll leave as soon as I fill the gourds with the water from this well."

The young monk who knows nothing about the world of man is witnessing something that only the G.o.ds could be capable of. Magic or simple prodigy? In front of his incredulous eyes, the sublime G.o.ddess has just made six gourds appear, which the young monk is certain were not there a second ago.

This small well is really not practical for Rhea who is about 5.9ft tall. which gives her an excellent idea.

To make this ch.o.r.e more enjoyable, the young woman places herself in the line of sight of the shy young monk. When she grasps the wide rope connected to the bucket soaking in water, she spreads her thighs wide and bends forward excessively.

When the very short skirt, which normally already has great difficulty covering the so pretty sacred b.u.t.tocks of the G.o.ddess, rises to allow him to observe a magnificent holy hole, Dimitry hyperventilates.

Although the young virgin monk knows nothing about women, the magnificent vision of the wide open small l.a.b.i.a majora moistened of a pink as pure as the flowers of the gardens he picked in spring, causes in his pious man's body a vicious upheaval that only the devil is capable of engendering.

Confronted with the absolute evil, the s.e.x of the young man, already harder than ever, continues to swell. Distraught, the monk throws himself on his knees and starts praying to ward off the evil thoughts that a.s.sail him.

The fervor he puts into his prayers is anything but simulated, but faced with the beast howling between his legs, the young monk sweating, is unable to keep his eyes closed any longer.

Why does this little sacred hole dripping with nectar look so appetizing to him? Why does the devil who has taken hold of him want him to fill that little sacred hole when innocently, filling the gourds for a long journey, the G.o.ddess, happy to be of service, waddles her lovable a.s.s so tempting.

He, a pure and chaste monk, as a servant of the G.o.ds, refuses to be seduced by the gentle temptation of the beast.

Above the well, Rhea, who could fill these gourds using a little magic, curses this fool who is fighting against himself. While he was sleeping, she took advantage of his big s.e.x ten times and enjoyed herself by swallowing the delicious sperm of the virgin six times, however, being penetrated by a sleeping monk is not as pleasant as get stuffing the p.u.s.s.y by a man in full possession of his means.

Annoyed by the uselessness of the young man who has just started praying again, she makes the gourds disappear in her personal dimension, then straightens up and lowers her skirt in anger.

"Stop your nonsense, we're leaving."