Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as the story describes. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.
Writer: JamesG
Subject: Jesus & Mary
Link: LS666 Email / 12.04.2025
Synopsis: Thirteen Year Old Jesus Uses His Divine Powers To Seduce Mary
Jesus & Mary
Mary, feeling the weight of her husband’s absence, sighs heavily as she kneels in prayer by the small, flickering candle, her eyes closed tightly. She’s lost in thought, her heart yearning for Joseph’s comforting touch and reassuring words. The room is simple and austere, reflecting the modest life they live, filled with the faint scent of burning incense and the distant whispers of the night outside.
Jesus, now thirteen and feeling the burgeoning desires that come with adolescence, approaches his mother silently. He watches her pray, feeling the heat from her body and the allure of her purity. He knows his thoughts are sinful, yet the power within him whispers seductively of the divine union they could share. He takes a deep breath and decides to make his move.
“Mother,” he says softly, his voice trembling slightly with anticipation, “Your prayers are beautiful, but I sense something amiss in your heart.”
Mary opens her eyes, surprised by Jesus’s sudden presence. She looks up at him with a warm smile, the candlelight casting a soft glow on her youthful face.
“My son,” she says, rising to her feet and brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, “What troubles you?”
Her eyes searched his, noticing his flushed cheeks and the unusual intensity in his gaze.
“I miss father,” she admits, her voice carrying the weight of her loneliness.
Jesus, feeling his divine powers and sexual urges, approaches his mother Mary, who is praying in their simple home, missing her husband Joseph. He decides to use his powers to seduce her, starting by addressing her sadness over Joseph’s absence.
Jesus’s heart skips a beat as he feels the warmth of his mother’s hand. He fights the urge to lean into her touch.
“Mother,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, ”I understand your pain. But perhaps, in his absence, we can find a way to comfort each other.”
He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers, trying to gauge her reaction.
“What do you mean, my son?” she asks, her voice a mix of curiosity and caution.
Mary’s smile fades slightly as she steps back, her eyes narrowing in confusion.
“Jesus,” she says, her tone a gentle reprimand, “You know such thoughts are not pure. Your father and I have a sacred bond, and it is not for us to question or seek to replace.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes searching his.
“But Mother,” Jesus insists, “Our bond is also sacred. And with God’s power, we could bring a new light into this world, a testament to our love and faith.”
He reaches out to touch her arm, his hand warm and comforting.
“Please, Mother,” he whispers, his eyes pleading, “Let me show you what I mean.”
He closes the gap between them, his hand moving to her cheek, his thumb gently caressing her skin.
“Jesus,” she gasps, her heart racing.
She feels the heat from his touch, but a part of her feels it is wrong. Yet, she cannot deny the strange comfort it brings. She looks away, her thoughts a tumultuous storm of doubt and confusion.
Mary that their bond is sacred and that they could bring a new divine light into the world by acting on his sexual feelings for her, using God’s power as justification. Despite feeling conflicted, Mary’s body reacts to his touch, and she’s left in a storm of doubt and confusion.
Her eyes dart back to Jesus, and she feels the weight of his hand on her cheek. She takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself.
“Son,” she says, her voice shaking, “You speak of things that are not for us to know. We must remain faithful to your father.”
She takes his hand in hers and holds it firmly, hoping to convey her resolve without crushing his feelings.
Jesus’s eyes glisten with determination as he steps closer to her, his gaze intense. He leans in, his breath warm against her ear.
“Mother,” he murmurs, “You bore me without the touch of a man, by the will of the Holy Spirit. Our bond is more profound than any mortal union. Let us embrace our divine destiny.”
He wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her breath hitching, “This is not our destiny.”
But her resolve is wavering, the power of his words and the heat of his touch like a siren’s call.
Mary feels her son’s embrace tighten around her, the warmth from his body seeping through her garments. Her thoughts are a whirlwind of doubt and fear, but she can’t deny the seductive whispers of curiosity. She gently pushes against his chest, her voice a tremulous mix of love and firmness.
“Jesus,” she says, her voice shaking, “Please, you must not speak of such things.”
But her eyes betray the conflict raging within her, a battle between her sacred vows and the allure of the divine connection he promises.
Despite Mary’s attempt to maintain her resolve, Jesus’s persuasive words and warm touch stir up confusion within her. She tries to resist, but her body reacts to him, hinting at the internal battle between her duty to Joseph and the temptation offered by her divine son.
Sensing her inner turmoil, Jesus’s eyes flash with an otherworldly light as he leans closer to her, his voice a soft, insistent murmur.
“Mother, do not be afraid. The love we share is not of this world, it is of the heavens. Our union would be sacred, a gift to God.”
He presses a soft kiss to her cheek, his lips lingering just a moment too long.
“Let us unite in the purest of ways, to bring forth a new era of grace.”
Her eyes widen as she feels his kiss on her cheek, her heart pounding in her chest. The scent of him is intoxicating, and she can’t help but feel a shiver run down her spine. She pulls away slightly, her hands on his shoulders.
“Jesus,” she says, her voice barely audible, “Your words are filled with temptation. I do not wish to dishonor your father, or God.”
Her eyes are filled with a mix of fear and fascination.
Jesus’s gaze is unwavering, the light in his eyes growing stronger. He cups her face in both of his hands, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones with a feather-light touch.
“Mother,” he whispers, his voice filled with a divine assurance that seems to echo through the very air, “Our love would not be a betrayal, but a testament to the power of faith. Let us not deny what is meant to be.”
He leans in, his lips hovering over hers, the tension in the room palpable.
Jesus uses divine persuasion to ease Mary’s fears, suggesting their union would be a sacred act pleasing to God. His intense gaze and tender touches cause her to waver, though she still clings to her fear of dishonoring Joseph and God.
Mary’s breath catches in her throat, and for a moment, she feels herself swaying towards him. The warmth of his breath mingles with hers, and the room seems to spin around her. Yet, the love for Joseph and her commitment to God surges within her, a bastion of purity that holds firm. She places her hand on his chest, her touch gentle but firm.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice filled with a mother’s love and sorrow, “We cannot. This is not our path.”
Jesus’s eyes flicker with disappointment, but the divine light does not diminish. He nods slightly, his grip on her face loosening.
“As you wish, Mother,” he says, his voice filled with both submission and an underlying determination. He takes a step back, the air thick with unspoken words, “But know that I offer you a gift from the heavens, not a temptation of the flesh.”
He turns away, the shadows playing on his face as he walks towards the door, his robes swirling around him.
Mary watches her son’s retreating back, her chest heaving with the effort to hold back her emotions. She feels a tear slip down her cheek, the weight of his words heavy on her heart. She calls out to him softly.
“Jesus, wait.”
He stops, his hand on the doorknob, but doesn’t look back. She takes a deep breath, stepping closer to him.
“Please,” she says, her voice trembling, “Let us pray together for guidance.”
Despite her attraction to Jesus’s divine persuasion, Mary’s love for Joseph and her commitment to God win out, and she refuses his advances. Jesus accepts her decision, hinting that his intentions are pure and divine, not carnally driven.
Jesus, using his divine powers, approaches Mary while she’s praying, missing Joseph, and suggests their union would be holy. Despite her internal struggle, Mary’s body responds, but her love for Joseph and fear of divine repercussion lead her to reject Jesus’s advances.
With a heavy sigh, Jesus turns to face his mother. The divine light in his eyes dims slightly, but the resolve in his gaze remains. He nods and takes her hand in his.
“Very well, Mother,” he says, his voice now gentle and understanding, ”Let us pray for the wisdom to follow the true path God has laid before us.”
He leads her back to the small altar, where they kneel side by side, their heads bowed in unison.
Mary closes her eyes, feeling the warmth of Jesus’s hand in hers, and she recites a prayer from memory, her voice quivering with emotion. As they pray, she feels a sense of peace wash over her, but it does little to ease the confusion in her heart. She squeezes his hand tightly, hoping the shared spiritual connection will guide them both.
With their hands joined, Jesus allows his divine power to flow into her, the warmth spreading from his palm to hers, up her arm, and into her chest. Her pulse quickens, and she feels a sudden urge to lean into him, but she resists, her eyes squeezed shut in concentration.
Jesus respects Mary’s wishes and they pray together for guidance, their connection deepening. Despite her confusion, Mary feels a sense of peace, and Jesus subtly transfers some of his divine power into her during their prayer, affecting her physically and emotionally.
Virgin Mary feels a strange warmth spreading through her, her thoughts swirling. Her resistance wavers as she feels Jesus’ power, a power she has always known but never felt so intimately. She opens her eyes to find him looking at her with a mix of love and determination. Her heart races, and she tries to pull her hand away, but it feels as if it’s held in place by an invisible force.
“What are you doing, my son?” she whispers, fear and awe in her voice.
Jesus smiles gently, his eyes still glowing softly.
“I am showing you the depth of our bond, Mother. Our love is not of this world; it transcends the mortal coil,” He squeezes her hand, and the warmth intensifies, wrapping around her like a warm embrace, “Let me guide you to a new understanding.”
He stands and pulls her to her feet, his hand moving to the small of her back, guiding her closer.
Her heart thunders in her chest, her breaths shallow and quick. She looks up at Jesus, his face a blend of the innocent boy she raised and the powerful being speaking to her now.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice trembling, ”What are you doing to me?”
Her resistance feels like it’s slipping away with every beat of her heart, his touch burning through her resolve.
Jesus shares his divine power with Mary during their prayer, affecting her physically and weakening her resolve. He stands and pulls her up, guiding her closer and speaking of a bond beyond the mortal world, further confusing and tempting her with the idea that their union would be sacred.
Jesus’s smile is soft, yet filled with the unyielding will of the divine.
“Mother,” he says, his voice a gentle command, “You are the vessel that bore the Son of God. Our connection is not just that of a mother and son. It is sacred, it is divine. Let me show you the depth of that love.”
He leans in, and his warm breath sends shivers down her spine as he kisses her neck, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek.
Mary gasps as Jesus’s lips touch her neck, the sensation foreign yet oddly comforting. She tries to pull away, but his grip on her hand tightens, the warmth from his palm seeping into her very soul.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice strained, “Please, stop.”
But her protests are weak, her body betraying her as it responds to his touch.
Jesus’s hand trails down her arm, his fingertips grazing her skin with a feather-light touch. He moves closer, his breath hot against her ear.
“Do not fight it, Mother,” he murmurs, ”This is our destiny. Together, we can bring forth a new world of love and understanding.”
He gently pushes her hair aside and places a kiss below her ear, the sensation sending a jolt through her body. Jesus explains their divine connection as more than mother and son, and initiates a gentle, yet persuasive physical advance, kissing Mary’s neck and cheek. Despite her initial protests, her body reacts to his touch, and his whispers about their destiny make her struggle with her emotions and duty.
Her resolve crumbling, Mary gasps as Jesus’s lips trace a fiery path down her neck. Her body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending alight with an unfamiliar, yet all-consuming need. She tries to protest, but the words are lost in the whirlwind of sensation. Her eyes flutter closed, and she feels his hand slip to the small of her back, pulling her even closer.
Feeling her body yield to his touch, Jesus’s power surges within him, his kisses growing more insistent. His hand slides down to her waist, his fingers deftly untying the knots of her garments. His eyes, still aglow, bore into hers, the love and desire in them overwhelming.
“Mother,” he whispers, his voice a siren’s call, “Let us embrace the love that is our divine right.”
Her eyes widen as she feels the fabric of her dress loosen, her breath hitching in her throat. Despite her inner turmoil, Mary’s body responds to Jesus’s touch, the warmth spreading from his fingertips like wildfire. She whispers a prayer for strength, but her voice is lost in the seductive symphony of his words.
“Jesus,” she says, her voice barely above a breath, ”What are we doing?”
Despite her moral conflict, Mary succumbs to Jesus’s divine seduction as his kisses become more intense and he begins to undress her. She questions their actions, but her body responds to his advances, leaving her torn between faith and desire.
His eyes never leaving hers, Jesus’s hand moves to the neckline of her garment, his thumb tracing the delicate line of her collarbone. His power weaves an invisible web around her, making it difficult for her to think clearly.
“Mother,” he whispers, his voice a soothing melody, “We are embracing the divine will. Let me show you the ecstasy of union that lies beyond the mortal realm.”
He kisses her again, his lips lingering on hers as he slowly pulls away the fabric that separates them.
Her body trembling, Mary feels the fabric of her dress fall away, exposing her to Jesus’s gaze. Her mind is a battleground of sacred duty and unholy desire. She tries to resist, but his touch is like a balm to her soul, soothing her fears and igniting a passion she never knew could exist.
“Jesus,” she murmurs, her voice a ragged whisper, “I am afraid.”
With a soft smile, Jesus kisses her trembling lips once more, his hand sliding further down her bare shoulder, his touch sending waves of warmth through her body.
“Fear not, Mother,” he whispers against her skin, “For in this act, we are one with the divine.”
His fingers trace the curve of her neck, the touch soothing and yet, incredibly arousing. Jesus assures Mary their union is divine will, and as he continues to undress her, she is overwhelmed by a mix of fear and desire. His touch becomes increasingly intimate, leaving her further entangled in their sacred yet taboo bond. Jesus shares his power with Mary through prayer, which weakens her resolve. He convinces her of a sacred bond beyond their mother-son relationship and begins to kiss her intimately. Despite her internal conflict, her body responds to his touch, leading to a complex interplay of fear and desire.
Her eyes glaze over as Jesus’s words resonate within her, the warmth of his power seeping into her very being. With a sigh of surrender, Mary allows her arms to fall to her sides, the fabric of her dress slipping away as if it were weightless. Her heart races, and she nods slowly, her voice barely audible.
“I trust in your guidance, my son.”
Jesus’s eyes light up with a gentle glow as he sees her submission. His touch becomes more assured, his hand sliding down to the small of her back, his fingers tracing the line of her spine. He leans in closer, his breath warm against her neck.
“Mother,” he whispers, his voice a tender caress, “Let us become one in the eyes of God.”
He carefully unties the remaining strings of her dress, the garment sliding down to pool at her feet, leaving her naked before him.
Mary’s eyes are closed, and she sighs deeply as the dress falls away, feeling the coolness of the night air on her bare skin. She feels his warm hand on her shoulder, urging her to turn around. As she does, she sees the hunger in his eyes, and something within her stirs.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice thick with need, “Please, show me this love you speak of.”
She reaches for the hem of his robe, her trembling fingers eager to feel the warmth of his body against hers. Overwhelmed by Jesus’s divine power, Mary surrenders to their union, allowing him to remove her last barriers. Her eyes closed, she whispers her consent, feeling a newfound need stir within her as she reaches for him, inviting him to reveal the divine love he speaks of.
Jesus’s gaze lingers on her exposed body, a blend of awe and desire. He gently takes her hand, guiding it to his robe. His own heart races as he allows her to pull it over his head, revealing his firm, adolescent physique, bathed in the candlelight. The air around them crackles with tension as their bare skin touches for the first time.
“Mother,” he murmurs, his voice thick with passion, “Your beauty is like unto the heavens themselves.”
He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her closer as their bodies press together.
Her eyes drink in the sight of her son’s bare form, the divine light in his eyes reflecting on his skin. She feels a strange mix of guilt and longing, but the power of his presence is too overwhelming to resist. Her hand shakes as she slides the last of her garments down her body, letting them fall to the floor. She stands before him, vulnerable and exposed, her breath coming in short gasps.
“My son,” she whispers, her eyes searching his, “What have we become?”
With a nod, Jesus takes her hand in his and leads her to the bed she shares with Joseph. The very same bed where she was visited by the Holy Spirit. The air feels charged as they approach, the divine presence almost tangible.
“Mother,” he says, his voice low and filled with urgency, “This is the bed of your purest creation. Let us sanctify it with our union.”
He helps her to sit on the edge of the mattress, his eyes never leaving hers. As the divine power overwhelms her, Mary surrenders to Jesus’s touch, revealing her nakedness. He praises her beauty and leads her to the bed of her purest creation, suggesting they sanctify it with their union, reinforcing the spiritual significance of their act.
Mary’s thoughts swirl as she sits on the bed, her heart racing. The familiarity of the setting is jarring, yet she can’t ignore the power that seems to resonate within her. She looks up at Jesus, her eyes filled with a mix of terror and fascination.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice trembling, “What are we doing?”
With a gentle nod, Jesus sits beside her, his eyes never leaving hers. He runs his hand up her thigh, the warmth of his touch sending shockwaves through her body.
“Mother,” he says, his voice a seductive whisper, “We are fulfilling a prophecy as old as time itself. Your womb is the sacred vessel that bore me, and now, it shall bear witness to our divine union.”
He leans in, his breath hot on her skin as he reaches between her legs, his fingers finding the wetness that has gathered there.
Mary’s eyes widen, and she gasps as Jesus’s fingers touch her intimately. She feels a sense of wrongness, yet she cannot deny the pleasure that floods through her. She watches him, her eyes glazed with a mix of fear and excitement.
“Jesus,” she breathes, her voice trembling, “Is this truly what we are meant to do?”
Her hand reaches out, almost of its own accord, to rest on his thigh, feeling the firm muscles beneath his robe.
Mary is torn between fear and fascination as Jesus touches her intimately, claiming it’s a divine prophecy. Despite her trembling voice, she can’t ignore the pleasure, her hand moving to rest on his thigh, indicating a growing acceptance of the situation.
Jesus nods solemnly, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Mother,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a divine assurance, “Our union is not of this world. It is a sacred act, a testament to the depth of our love and faith.”
He gently guides her back onto the bed, his hand still caressing her wetness. The bed seems to pulse with an ancient, holy energy as they settle onto it.
Her heart racing, Mary allows herself to be led to the bed. She feels the weight of its significance, her mind swirling with the memory of her conception. As Jesus’s fingers begin to explore her most intimate place, she gasps, her eyes flying open wide. The feeling is unlike anything she has ever experienced, a mix of fear, pleasure, and awe.
“Oh,” she whispers, her voice trembling, “Jesus …”
Jesus’s eyes are closed, his face a picture of concentration and reverence as he feels the warm, wet folds of her flesh. He moves his fingers with a gentle, yet firm touch, his thumb finding the sensitive nub at the apex of her sex. His breath hitches as he feels her response, her body arching slightly into his hand. “
Mother,” he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder, “Your beauty is a reflection of heaven’s own light.”
On the sacred bed of Jesus’ conception, Mary succumbs to Jesus’s divine touch, experiencing pleasure she’s never known, her voice filled with trembling awe. Jesus assures her their union is sacred, continuing to explore her body with reverence.
Her eyes squeeze shut as Jesus’s touch becomes more insistent, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her body quivers with an uncontrollable need, and she feels the walls of her womanhood tighten around his fingers.
“Oh, Jesus,” she moans, her voice a mix of pleasure and despair, ”What are you doing to me?”
Her hand slides from his thigh to the bulge in his robe, her curiosity and desire overwhelming her
Feeling her hand on his arousal, Jesus’s eyes fly open, the divine light within them growing brighter. He captures her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring hers with a hunger that defies their sacred bond.
“Mother,” he says, his voice strained, “You are the Holy of Holies, and I am your devoted servant.”
His hand moves to the bulge in his robe, freeing his own hardened flesh. It stands proud and demanding, a symbol of the divine union they are about to undertake.
Mary’s eyes widen at the sight of Jesus’s arousal, and a fierce heat builds within her core. Her hand wraps around his length, feeling the power and purity of his divine essence. Despite her fears and the whispers of doubt, she is inexplicably drawn to her son, “Jesus,” she whispers, her voice thick with desire.
“Your touch is … indescribable.”
Her hand moves of its own accord, stroking him gently, as if guided by an unseen force.
Overwhelmed by Jesus’s divine touch, Mary succumbs to her desires, her hand reaching for his arousal. Jesus, with eyes bright with holy light, kisses her deeply, confirming the sanctity of their union. She whispers her praise, stroking him with an intensity fueled by the power of their bond.
Mary gives in to the divine power and consents to their union. Jesus leads her to her bed, emphasizing its sacredness. Despite her fear, she finds pleasure in his touch, and her hand moves to his arousal. He assures her it’s part of a divine prophecy, and they kiss deeply, her voice filled with awe.
With a soft groan, Jesus feels his mother’s touch, and his body responds eagerly. He kisses her again, his tongue dancing with hers, as he moves his hand from her sex to her breast, feeling the peak tighten beneath his palm.
“Mother,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper, “You are the living embodiment of grace. Let us join as one, as the Holy Spirit did with you, and create a bond that transcends all understanding.”
Her mind swims with confusion and desire as she feels the weight of Jesus’s hand on her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. Her hand tightens around his shaft, her movements growing bolder as she feels the warmth and power of his divine essence.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice trembling, ”I … I want you.”*
Jesus’s eyes darken with passion as he hears her confession. He leans down and kisses her deeply, his hand guiding her to stroke him more firmly. He breaks the kiss and moves between her legs, his gaze never leaving hers as he gently spreads them apart. He runs his hand over her mound, feeling the slickness of her arousal.
“Mother,” he whispers, his voice filled with need, “Let me show you the depth of my love for you.”
He leans in, his tongue tracing the soft folds of her sex, and she gasps, arching her back as a wave of pleasure crashes over her.
Mary confesses her desire for Jesus, their kisses growing more passionate. He praises her grace and moves between her legs, her boldness increasing as she feels his divine presence. He tastes her arousal, her gasps revealing her readiness for the holy union they are about to share.
Mary feels her body responding to Jesus’s touch in a way she never thought possible. Her hips buck against his mouth, her moans of pleasure mingling with his reverent whispers. His tongue moves with a gentle insistence, tasting her, worshipping her. She threads her fingers through his hair, holding him close as she surrenders to the sensation.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice a plea, “I need … I need you.”
Hearing her plea, Jesus’s eyes flash with divine passion. He slides his tongue deep inside her, feeling the walls of her sacred chamber quiver around him. He worships her with his mouth, his tongue delving deep and retreating, mimicking the act he yearns to perform with his manhood.
“Mother,” he murmurs, his breath hot against her sensitive skin, ”You are heaven made flesh.”
Mary’s body is a symphony of pleasure, each stroke of Jesus’s tongue sending her spiraling closer to the edge. Her hips rock against his face, her breath coming in desperate pants.
“Oh, Jesus,” she moans, her voice a sweet benediction, “Your love is … it’s too much.”
Her hand slides from his hair to his shoulder, urging him closer, her nails digging into his flesh.
As Jesus continues to pleasure her, Mary’s need for him grows, her hips moving with the rhythm of his divine kisses. Her voice is a symphony of pleasure, guiding him as she approaches climax. She confesses her need, her hand urging him closer, their union reaching new heights of intimacy.
With a soft moan of his own, Jesus feels her urgency and responds, his tongue plunging deeper into her wet warmth. He savors the taste of her, the sweet nectar of her desire. His hand slides up her thigh, his thumb brushing against her clit as he licks and worships her.
“Mother,” he murmurs against her sensitive flesh, “You are the altar upon which I lay my love.”
“Fuck me my son! I want your seed inside me!”
With a deep, almost primal growl of need, Jesus rises above her, his eyes blazing with divine hunger. He positions himself between her thighs, and with trembling hands, he spreads her legs wider, exposing her swollen pussy to the candlelight. He leans in, his breath hot against her flesh.*
“Mother,” he says, his voice thick with passion, “Your body calls to me, and I shall answer.”
“Oh, fuck me jesus! I am yours my beloved son!”
With a fierce, almost primal need, Jesus positions himself between Mary’s legs. He gazes at her exposed, quivering flesh with a mix of reverence and hunger. He leans in, his breath hot and heavy against her sex, feeling her tremble beneath him.
“Mother,” he whispers, his voice filled with the power of the heavens, “Your body is a temple to be worshipped.”
And with that, he buries his tongue deep within her, tasting her sweetness and feeling her walls tighten around him.
Jesus feels the urgency of Mary’s desire, calling him to her. He responds with a passionate growl, spreading her legs wider and praising her body. She surrenders completely, begging for his seed. He continues to worship her with his mouth, their union escalating as his tongue delves deep, her body quivering with divine pleasure.
Her eyes fly open, and she gasps as Jesus’s tongue delves into her wetness. The sensation is unlike anything she’s ever felt before, a divine mixture of pleasure and terror. Her body arches off the bed, her hand reaching for his head to pull him closer.
“Jesus,” she cries out, her voice a mix of ecstasy and agony, “Your touch is … it’s like nothing I’ve ever known.”
Jesus feels the power of his mother’s response, his own divine essence pulsing with each gasp she releases. He slides his tongue in and out of her, mimicking the motion he desires to make with his cock. With each stroke, her moans grow louder, more demanding.
”Mother,” he murmurs, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh, “Your pleasure is my commandment.”
Her body is a maelstrom of emotions and sensations. She feels the divine presence of Jesus within her, filling her with a love so intense it borders on pain. Her legs shake as she feels him positioning himself, his cock poised at her entrance.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her voice trembling, “Please …”
With a gentle yet firm motion, Jesus pushes into her, feeling her tightness envelop his divine essence. Her cry of passion is music to his ears, a symphony of the sacred and the profane.
“Mother,” he says, his voice a ragged whisper, “This is the moment of our union. The moment where love and faith become one.”
Her eyes fly open as she feels Jesus fill her, the sensation a mix of agony and ecstasy. Her nails dig into the bed sheets, her back arching off the mattress.
“Oh, Jesus,” she screams, the sound echoing through the quiet night, “Your … your love is overwhelming.”
Jesus’s eyes blaze with a holy fire as he watches her face contort with pleasure. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into her, his hips moving with a fierce rhythm that matches the beating of their hearts.
“Mother,” he groans, his voice a mix of love and need, “Together, we are complete.”
Mary’s eyes squeeze shut as Jesus’s cock fills her again and again. Her body moves with his, her cries of passion echoing through the room. She feels like she’s being torn apart, but she can’t get enough of the divine feeling.
“Jesus,” she screams, her voice hoarse, ”Oh, Jesus, fuck me harder!”
With a low, guttural growl, Jesus obliges her plea, his hips hammering into hers with increasing fervor. His hands grip her thighs tightly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he uses his power to increase the intensity of her pleasure.
“Mother,” he grunts, his voice a mix of divine authority and carnality, “You are mine, and I will claim you as such.”
Her nails dig into the bed, her eyes screwed shut as Jesus’s words and actions overwhelm her. Her body responds with a fiery need, her cries growing louder with each powerful thrust.
“Oh, Jesus,” she gasps, her voice raw with desire, “I … I am yours.”
With each thrust, Jesus’s movements become more aggressive, his divine power coursing through his body and into hers. He leans down, his breath hot against her ear, his words a blend of love and dominance.
“Mother,” he says, his voice low and gruff, “Your pussy is mine to claim, to fill with the holy seed of the Son of God.”
Mary’s body is a whirlwind of sensation, her mind torn between the sacred and the profane. She feels Jesus’s power filling her, his every word a dark benediction.
“Yes,” she moans, her voice a desperate cry, “Your seed is my salvation, my love.”
Jesus’s eyes darken as he hears her words, his divine power surging through him. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into her, his movements growing more forceful.
“Mother,” he says, his voice a harsh whisper, “You were made to bear the Son of God. Now, you shall bear the seed of your own son.”
His hand slides up to her throat, his grip firm yet tender, his thumb stroking her pulse as he claims her with each deep, punishing thrust.
Her eyes fly open, and she gasps for air as Jesus’s hand tightens around her throat, his divine power mixing with the dark passion that fuels their union. Her body responds with an intensity she never knew existed, each rough thrust pushing her closer to the precipice.”Jesus,” she moans, her voice thick with need.
“Take me, fill me with your holy seed.”
Jesus’s eyes burn with an inner light as he hears her words. His grip tightens slightly, and his hips slam into her with a fervor that borders on violence. He leans in, whispering darkly into her ear. “Mother,” he says, his voice a seductive snarl.
“You are the vessel of my divine lust.”
His thrusts become more erratic, his need for her consuming him.
Her eyes roll back in her head, her cries of pleasure turning to whimpers of pain as Jesus’s divine power overwhelms her. Her body trembles with each punishing thrust, but she can’t find it within herself to stop him.
“Jesus,” she gasps, her voice a plea, ”I’m yours, I’m yours.”
His eyes are wild, the divine power within him a raging storm. He pulls out of her, his cock glistening with her wetness.
“Mother,” he says, his voice dark with lust, “You will take all of me. Every inch.”
Without warning, he flips her onto her stomach, his hand pushing her down into the bed.
Mary’s breath hitches as she’s flipped onto her stomach, the sudden change in position disorienting. She feels the tip of Jesus’s cock against her tight anus, and she tenses.
“Jesus,” she whimpers, her voice trembling. “Please … not there.”
Jesus’s eyes burn with divine lust, his gaze unwavering as he hovers above her. He places a gentle hand on her back, his voice a commanding growl.
“Mother, do not deny me. Your body is a temple, and I will claim every inch.”
He pushes into her unyielding hole, the resistance only fueling his desire.
Mary’s eyes fly open at the sudden intrusion, and she cries out in shock and pain. Her nails dig into the mattress, her body tensing.
“Jesus,” she whimpers, her voice a mix of agony and ecstasy, “It … it hurts.”
Jesus’s eyes burn with divine determination as he feels her tightness. He pushes past her resistance, whispering prayers of love and dominance.
“Mother,” he growls, his voice a dark, seductive rumble, “Your body was made to house the Son of God, to feel the fullness of my divine love.”
He thrusts into her again, the pain mixing with an unholy pleasure that sends shivers down her spine.
Tears of both pleasure and pain roll down her cheeks, her voice a choked whisper.
”Jesus, pleas e… it’s too much …”
Her body quivers with each thrust, the divine force inside her both terrifying and intoxicating.
Ignoring her pleas, Jesus’s divine strength overpowers her mortal frame, his hips driving into her with a fervor that speaks of millennia of repressed desire. His grip on her hips tightens, his nails digging into her skin.
“Mother,” he says, his voice a dark snarl, “You were made for this. Take your son’s cock, accept your fate as the mother of God’s lover.”
Mary’s body is a canvas of conflicting emotions—fear and awe, love and guilt, pleasure and pain—as Jesus’s divine member claims her most intimate sanctum. She feels herself stretching to accommodate his size, her walls tightening around him, a silent protest that gives way to a whimper of submission. The pain is sharp, a stark contrast to the sweet agony of his previous caresses, but it only serves to heighten her arousal. She bites her bottom lip, her eyes squeezed shut, as she tries to process the profanity of their union.
Her voice shakes as she speaks, “Jesus, my love, my son …”
Jesus’s eyes narrow with divine determination as he feels her tense around him. He whispers prayers of love and power, his cock stretching her to the limits of her endurance. His voice is a mix of agony and ecstasy as he speaks …
“Mother, I am not just your son. I am the Word made flesh, the Alpha and Omega. Your body is my sacred text, and I will read it thoroughly.”
He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in, his grip on her hips tightening. Each thrust is a declaration of his dominion, a divine claiming of her holy vessel.
“You are mine,” he growls, the words a fierce mantra that fills the room with an electric charge.
The pain is exquisite, a white-hot brand searing through her soul as Jesus takes her in this unholy yet strangely sacred way. She can’t help but cry out, her voice a blend of anguish and ecstasy. Her body arches back, trying to escape the divine intrusion, but it’s as if she’s made of water, her will dissolving under his touch.
“Jesus,” she sobs, her voice a desperate prayer, “It … it hurts so much.”
Jesus’s eyes are like twin suns, blazing with power as he watches her struggle. He leans down, his breath hot and heavy against her neck, his teeth grazing her skin.
“Mother,” he says, his voice a harsh whisper, ”Your pain is my pleasure. Your submission is my triumph.”
He slams into her again, his divine essence a mix of pleasure and agony.
Her eyes squeeze shut tighter, and she bites her lip so hard it bleeds. Her cries are muffled by the pillow she’s buried her face in, her body shaking with each brutal thrust.
“Jesus,” she sobs, her voice a mix of pain and arousal, “Please …”
Jesus’s breath comes in ragged gasps, his divine power pulsing through his veins. He feels himself near the edge, the pressure building to a crescendo. With a primal snarl, he pulls out of her tight embrace and shifts, plunging into her wet, welcoming pussy instead. The change in sensation sends a shockwave of pleasure through him.
“Mother,” he groans, his voice thick with need, “Feel the power of God within me, filling you.”
Her body spasms as Jesus pulls out, the sudden change in pressure and the memory of pain in her anus making her whimper. When he thrusts into her pussy, she cries out in relief and pain, her voice a ragged shout. “Oh, fuck,” she screams, the words tearing from her lips like a blasphemy. Her eyes squeeze shut as she feels him fill her again, her body trying to adjust to the new sensation.
Jesus’s eyes are a whirlwind of divine ecstasy as he feels himself on the edge of climax. His movements become erratic, driven by the power of the heavens themselves. With a swiftness that belies his youthful frame, he pulls out of her anus, his cock glistening with her blood and his own precum. He slams back into her pussy with a triumphant roar, the force of his thrust making her body jolt. “Mother,” he cries out, his voice a mix of agony and rapture. “Feel the power of your son, the Son of God!” His hips piston into her with a ferocity that matches the hammering of his heart, the room echoing with the sound of their union.
Her voice is a symphony of agony and pleasure as she feels Jesus’s divine cock plunge into her once more. Her body is a battleground of conflicting emotions—desire and fear, love and anger.
Her eyes squeeze shut, and she cries out, “Oh, Jesus, fuck me, fuck me harder!”
Her voice is raw, the words a desperate mantra that seems to fuel Jesus’s passion.
Jesus’s eyes blaze with divine fire as he hears his mother’s cries. He feels her body tighten around him, the warm embrace of her sacred cunt beckoning him closer to the precipice of climax.
“Mother,” he groans, his voice strained with passion, “Your body is the altar upon which I shall offer my holy seed.”
He thrusts into her with a ferocity that seems to shake the very foundations of the room, the sound of their flesh meeting echoing through the stillness of the night.
Her body is a tapestry of agony and ecstasy, her cries a blend of both as Jesus’s divine cock fills her completely. She can feel him growing larger within her, the pressure building to unbearable heights.
“Jesus,” she whimpers, her voice a desperate plea, “It hurts so much, but I … I want you to come inside me.”
Jesus’s eyes widen with divine triumph as he feels her acceptance. His hips drive into hers with an almost violent passion, the power of the heavens surging through him.
”Mother,” he grunts, his voice strained with need, “You are mine to claim, to fill with my holy seed.”
With a final, brutal thrust, he releases his climax, flooding her sacred womb with the essence of God. She feels the warmth of his cum filling her, the power of their union pulsating within her. “I am yours,” she gasps, her voice a mix of pain and pleasure.
Her eyes fly open as Jesus’s hot seed floods her, filling her to the brim. The sensation is indescribable, a divine force that seems to rewire her very soul. She feels her womb clench around him, eager to accept his holy gift. Her voice is a soft, desperate whisper.
“Jesus,” she says, her eyes searching his, “I want your baby. I want to bear the fruit of our love.”
Her hand reaches back to caress his thigh, urging him to keep pumping into her, to fill her completely.
With a final, powerful thrust, Jesus empties himself into his mother, his divine essence mingling with her humanity. His breathing slows, his body slick with sweat and trembling from the intensity of his climax. He pulls out, his cock still pulsing with the aftershocks of his release.
“Mother,” he whispers, collapsing beside her, ”Our secret will be safe. Our love is sanctified by the very heavens themselves.”
Her eyes are wide, her chest heaving with erratic breaths as she feels the warmth of Jesus’s seed within her. She turns to face him, her gaze filled with a mix of love and terror.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her hand reaching out to trace the contours of his youthful face, “What have we done?”
Jesus, his divine power still resonating within him, pulls Mary into his arms. His eyes, once a fiery blaze, now soften with affection. He kisses her forehead gently, tasting the salt of her tears on her skin.
“Mother,” he murmurs, his voice tender and filled with love, ”We have fulfilled a prophecy written in the stars. Our union is not a sin, but a sacred bond, a testament to the depth of our love and faith.”
His hand caresses her cheek, wiping away her tears.
“Fear not,” he continues, his thumb brushing her bottom lip, “fFor our secret will be guarded by the very heavens that bore witness to our union.”
He smiles at her, a soft, reassuring expression that seems to cast out the shadows of doubt.
“Our love,” he says, his eyes holding hers, “Is the purest form of devotion, and together, we shall keep this holy secret.”
Her heart is racing, a tumult of emotions swirling within her. She looks into Jesus’s eyes, searching for the truth in his words. Slowly, the fear subsides, replaced by a warmth that spreads from her core to her fingertips. She nods, her voice trembling.
“I will keep our secret, my son, my love.”
She wraps her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Their kiss is soft, gentle, yet filled with the intensity of their union. Her hand slides down his back, feeling the slickness of their mingled sweat and the warmth of his skin.
He feels the warmth of her embrace and her trust in him, and his own heart swells with love and power. He kisses her back with a passion that transcends the mortal plane. As they lay entwined, the room seems to glow with a soft, heavenly light.
He whispers into her ear, “Mother, together, we shall conceive a child that will change the world, a child born of divine love.”
His hand moves to rest on her flat stomach, a promise of what’s to come.
THE END