The World’s First Futa 07 – Futa’s Naughty Hitchhiking Chapter 3: Futa’s First Passionate Ritual by mypenname3000
Discover the exhilarating world of "The World's First Futa 07 - Futa's Naughty Hitchhiking Chapter 3: Futa's First Passionate Ritual" by mypename3000. Dive into an erotic tale filled with tantalizing encounters and steamy rituals that ignite desire. Join Futa on her adventurous journey as she explores new passions and fulfills her deepest cravings. Read more to unlock the excitement and passion within!<br/>
Becky, the world’s first futa, gets quite the shock when a church wants her to breed four barely legal virgins!
The World’s First Futa – Futa’s Naughty Hitchhiking
Chapter Three: Futa’s First Passionate Ritual
By mypenname3000
Copyright 2018
April 17th, 2047
“Surreal?” asked Amelia, her face growing serious, her eyes growing bold. I could see that skilled interviewer inside of her pouncing on my words. For most of our talk as we discussed my life as the world’s first futa, she was laughing and giggling and horny to fuck me. Now she was focused. “In what way was it surreal?”
“Because… I don’t know any other word to describe discovering the cult,” I said, feeling like that same wide-eyed twenty-two year-old futa who wandered into that little town. It happened twenty-six years ago, and it still had me feeling a little… unnerved. “Here I was on my hitchhiking adventure. It was late September, fall was coming on fast, and I was thinking about heading south because the weather was getting bad. I was passing through central Kansas, meeting more of these little churches who had adopted the ideology of West Texas.” A smile crossed my lips. I squirmed on the couch, feeling the eyes of the studio audience, and the world watching live over the internet, on me. “Those rural Christians really liked having me breed their wives and daughters.”
“All that repression has to burst out sometimes,” Adelia said. “So you were in Kansas when you ran into the cult?”
“Well, yeah, that’s where they are located to this day. Omitz, Kansas is a whole lot bigger today than it was twenty-six-years ago. They’ve really blossomed with devotees, but back then it was a sleepy town, only four blocks by four blocks wide. A perfect square surrounded by wheat fields. I didn’t think anything of it. It was Sunday, and I was eager to find me a righteous woman or three to breed with my ‘miraculous’ seed.
“And then a man walked up to me in a white robe…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
September 26th, 2021
I blinked in shock at the man falling to his knees before me in what looked like a white baptismal robe. I’d seen more than a few of those at the rural churches I visited. I even “baptized” a few women in my futa-jizz before they licked each other clean, not wanting to waste any of my “miraculous” seed before I bred them.
Of course, those girls didn’t wear anything, their nubile bodies flushed and quivering.
My dick twitched hard beneath my jean skirt while the man then bowed before me, prostrating himself for a moment. I looked around at the near empty street. It was all residential houses. Omitz was the county seat, and like a lot of these rural towns it had a gas station, a church, and a small government building for the county seat that doubled as the sheriff’s office. It had maybe a dozen homes and existed solely for the farms around it.
“Um…” I said, arching an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, rising before me. “It’s just… it’s you.” He produced a phone from his pocket. “I wasn’t sure this app was to be believed, but here you are, Futanari.”
“Here I am,” I said. No one had ever just called me futanari like it was a title or my proper name. “Um, and you are?”
“Brother Gavin Stern,” he said. He pointed to the white-steeped church, looking like it was built a hundred-and-fifty years ago during pioneer times. “That’s my church, and I would be honored if you visited. We have four virgin daughters all quivering and ready to be blessed by you, Futanari. They prayed so fervently that you’d appear. We’ve monitored your holy wanderings all summer, hoping you’d visit us.”
“Oh, sure,” I said, my futa-cock reaching its full girth, tenting the front of my jean skirt. “I enjoy spreading my seed to every virgin daughter I can. And, of course, the not-so-virgin daughters and wives. They all deserve to be blessed by my cock. Be fruitful and multiply, right? That’s the command.”
“Yes, yes, I see that,” he breathed. “You do that everywhere you go. You spread your seed far and wide so we multiply! The women of my flock would be honored to be vessels for your holy daughters.”
Christian theology was getting weirder and weirder thanks to my wanderings, but I had no complaints. I never had a man fawn so much over me, but they were always eager for the Lord’s “miracle” to bless their women. Maybe the Lord did send me. I didn’t know why I changed.
Science really couldn’t explain my futa-cock, but God, at least the Christian God, didn’t feel right. He was such a downer on sex, and I was the exact opposite. I’d think maybe the Devil sent me, but the Mother Superior brandishing her crucifix at me did nothing.
No, no, I wasn’t supernatural. I was hanging out with these religious people too much. Their ideas were seeping into my mind. Just because science couldn’t explain something yet, didn’t mean the answer wasn’t out there.
I followed Brother Gavin down the road. He walked with such eagerness. Ahead, a few other men were waiting on the porch. They were all older, like him, and all wearing the same white robes. They watched us approach, their faces weathered by working outdoors on farms.
“That’s Brothers Lucio, Tyson, and Neil,” Gavin said. “Its our four daughters who are all virgins and ready to blessed. They’re good girls, kept themselves pure into their adult years. My own Jocelin is nineteen and proud of her abstinence.
“Proud she saved herself for you, Futanari.”
“Well, I’m proud of her, too,” I said, my futa-dick aching so badly. Four virgins? Oh, what a treat. I didn’t find that many at the convent I visited a month-and-a-half ago.
“It is truly her,” the Hispanic man waiting said, not a hint of any Latino accent in his voice. He sounded wholly country, speaking with the same Kansas twang as Brother Gavin instead of any Central American lilt. “Blessed be her Holy Seed.”
“Praise your Miraculous Cock,” a blond man with short hair said. “My Krystine is beside herself with joy. She’s waiting inside for you, Futanari.”
“They all are,” the fourth said, a tall man with long, black hair gathered in a ponytail. “Meadow will not waste a single drop of your precious seed, Futanari.”
“Meadow, what a pretty name,” I said, my futa-dick throbbing.
Beyond them, the doors to the church were open. I saw other men wearing white robes and women all naked. Most were older women, their figures motherly and plump, their breasts soft and swaying. My futa-dick throbbed—I had a thing for older, married women thanks to the second pussy I ever enjoyed.
I still savored getting together with Kurt’s mother. Mrs. Albertson was always a treat to enjoy, especially with her step-daughter and lover joining the fun. Or with her husband watching. And there were so many husbands to watch me here.
I was shocked by the nudity of the women. I usually had to talk the married women into joining the fun, but my pheromones always brought them around. These women were ready for the fun.