EROTIC STORY PART I: The Altar of Flesh The bed is not just where bodies rest. It is an altar. It is a temple. And there, lying, you are not just an offering. You are a victim, yes, but also a worshipped divinity, a celebrant who leads the rite. Your arched, convulsed body becomes a hymn. Each word of yours, sweet and cutting, opens the doors to this ceremony where surrender is perfect. For what you give, you also receive. And your boundless love spreads like slow-burning incense, intoxicating the hungry faithful who approach the sacrifice. They come, thirsty, pouring themselves out in violent waves, bringing the suffocated moment, the seminal jet that marks your imperious flesh. And you absolve them, accept them, collect their hot offerings that drip onto your skin, leaving invisible scars that never heal. When silence arrives, it is not emptiness. It is an echo. It's a living larva crawling back through your veins, full of indulgence. And then the prophet appears. I. Ravished by your word that fits no mouth, I kneel beside your bed. I take your feet: dirty, plastered with dried semen, flowing stories, and I place my worship on them. I kiss. I lick. I suck. I devour. I make filth your sanctity. I am part of you. PART II: The Liturgy of Bodies The room fills with the faithful. No longer two or three, but an entire congregation, drawn by the scent of your heat, by the spell of the words that insist on escaping your mouth. Lying on the altar of the bed, you open your legs as if opening the doors of a temple. Your throbbing shaft is the lit lamp in the sanctuary. The first tongue bends to lick you, and soon another comes, and another. Each mouth slurps up a piece of you, as if they were communion wafers soaked in your pleasure. Your moans are psalms. They respond with panting breaths, bodies pressed together, hard cocks vying for the honor of entering you. One penetrates your pussy, another fucks your ass, and still another fills your mouth, and still, your lust is unquenched. You want more, you demand more. You are an insatiable goddess, a celebrant who demands total surrender. Cum begins to fall like rain. Warm streams of milk splash onto your thighs, your belly, your face. Your body is painted white like a living canvas of sacrifice. And you come with them, trembling all over, thighs convulsing, belly throbbing, cum flowing thickly, mingling with the sperm of the faithful. Still, it's not enough. They want more. You demand more. Strong hands lift you, turn you onto your stomach, open you like an ancient book needing to be reread. One thrusts deep into your ass, another inserts himself into your soaking wet pussy, another offers his throbbing cock to your mouth. And so, amid moans and orders, the scene becomes a chorus: a symphony of skin slaps, screams of pleasure, and splashes of cum. You are the center, the altar, and the divinity. And they, devotees, surrender themselves to the end, as if knowing that, by orgasming in you, they cease to be men and become part of the rite. And I, the prophet, observe, sing, masturbate, watching the miracle unfold: the woman who transforms pleasure into liturgy, and filth into the sacred. When the bodies finally fall exhausted, you remain. Reigning naked, marked with cum and sweat, your eyes shining with satisfied lust. And everyone, one by one, bows at your dirty feet, kisses, licks, devours, fulfilling the final commandment of your obscene cult: "Kiss my dirty feet." ADAPTATION COPYRIGHT: Buffalo76 #EroticStory