Whorehouse Chapel
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Eclipse In The Chapel free porn video
She had long ago learned not to step on her girlfriends' buzz when they brought up astrology. After all, it's just for fun; nobody actually believes that garbage. Or at least, that's what Adriana hoped. Sometimes their monologues about the placement of the planets would go on long enough that it was hard to tell.
But even the most stoic, sensible person would get the creeps in this place.
Adriana finished trudging up the hill, and no longer worried about tripping over an inconvenient rock, she flicked the beam of her flashlight upwards. It played across weeds, then lichen and worn, weathered stone, tolerating its unnatural arrangement with heavy finality. A small, poorly-maintained plaque explained to the few visitors what Adriana had learned prior to her trek.
The chapel had been started in colonial days, with lofty ambitions of imitating the grand European cathedrals. Then, as the colonists realized survival in a new land was harder than they expected, the project was abandoned in favor of smaller, more practical houses of worship. All that remained of it today were a few standing walls, and considerably more collapsed walls, which honestly wasn't much different from its state when the hill was left fallow. And of course, somewhere in the rubble was the object Adriana was looking for.
Was it really that irrational to get strange vibes alone, at night, in a building that even its contemporaries had decided it was better off left to rot? Only it never did, because it's stone, defying, to some degree, a natural death.
Her visit to the chapel was partially her idea; after all, it was a known local gem. But it was her roommate and best friend Lizzie who insisted she do it during the lunar eclipse. She had been evasive regarding why, which frustrated Adriana a little. But she had a pretty good guess. A lot of old structures were built with celestial geometry in mind, so there was probably some sort of alignment with this saros that would produce a light show in what would have been the interior. At the very least, she expected to get some beautiful pictures.
The least compelling part of Lizzie's recommendation was that she'd lost her virginity at the chapel. That was par for the course for her; she and her boyfriend Darien were practically joined at the hip. Or more accurately, joined at the crotch. They had a penchant for adventure, sexually speaking, often sneaking off to get freaky in strange places around campus, then regaling the friend group with all the details once they'd finished the deed.
Adriana pretended to be as uninterested in those stories as she was in whether Mercury was in retrograde. Unlike astrology, though, this she found fascinating.
Lizzie had been Adriana's introduction to sexuality in more ways than one. Within the first month of arriving on campus, she went back to their room only to find her on her back, gasping, as Darien pounded into her from above. That was the first (and still the only) penis Adriana had seen in real life, and it was immediately burned into her memory. She'd stood there, stunned, at the door for a few moments. The two were facing away from her, and Adriana had gotten a full view of Darien's balls slapping against her roommate's ass every time his thick shaft plunged between her glistening, swollen lips. Her mouth dried out as the writhing pair produced all sorts of grunts and moans, punctuated by hasty, sloppy kisses and oh-fuck-yesses. At least she had the presence of mind to shut the door quietly before running off to the bathroom stall to frantically rub the curiosity out of her clit. In order to keep quiet, she'd had to bite her lip so hard it bled.
Lizzie was also bisexual, and consequently the first openly queer person Adriana had ever met. This was interesting in its own right, and initially brought up some questions that took some introspection to resolve. But when the dust eventually settled, Adriana was confident that she was at least mostly straight. She certainly thought Lizzie was pretty, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to fuck her. Or get fucked by her, for that matter. Darien's cock, on the other hand, she thought was magnificent.
Now, at the chapel, Adriana felt the faintest beginning tingles of arousal as she wondered where in the ruins the couple had gotten undressed and had sex. She brushed a fern out of the way and stepped through the threshold of the doorway, purely out of habit. There were enough collapsed sections of the walls that she could have created any number of entrances.
Despite not being enclosed, the interior of the church felt a few degrees cooler than the air outside. This wasn't a problem in the warm May night, but the heavy stones seemed to suck the heat right from her, even as they blocked the night's gentle breeze. The full moon cast its light unimpeded by any roof, revealing thatches of grass pocking through the cracks of the bumpy floor. At the far end of the church was a step up. Presumably the altar would have gone there, but bare as it was, the step more closely resembled a stage.
Adriana picked her way through the tall grass. Her flashlight wasn't as much of a help as she had hoped while inside, because now that she'd left the trail, any protruding rocks or bumps were obscured by foliage. Thankfully, this wasn't a huge problem. The settlers had done a serviceable job smoothing the floor, and further erosion had only helped. Even so, it prevented her from treading with her usual sure-footedness, and she stepped carefully through the grasses and weeds. Before long, she'd found her way to the other side of the building. She stepped up onto the ledge and turned around to survey the view from the slight elevation it offered.
Being able to take in the whole scene at once helped counteract the creepy factor of being alone at night in an abandoned building. She noticed some order to the collapsed walls; near a corner, one section had fallen onto another and brought down both of them. Another hole revealed the boulder that had rolled down the hill and punched through it. It was still there, of course, and it poked out from above the patches of tall grass. This wasn't so bad, she decided. It would have been much worse if the church had been completed and a cemetery built alongside it, or if a roof had been there to keep out the moonlight.
Then, finally, she saw it, near the wall and behind a pile of collapsed stones that had kept it out of view from the entrance. Even damaged, it was just as beautiful as Lizzie said it would be.
The gargoyle sat crouched, craning its neck to peer over its bent knees, and to offer its tongue as a ramp to funnel rainwater outward. Its legs were tightly folded, and its arms were wrapped around them, assuming the position of a cannonball dive into a pool, thought Adriana. Or of someone curled up in fear.
The expression on its face contrasted with its fearful posture. Behind the rainwater spout of its tongue lay pointed teeth, once sharp but worn dull by the weather. Its brow was furrowed in a mocking expression, and a ring of small horns formed a crown around its bald head.
It sat on the balls of its bare, clawed feet, balancing like a catcher with the help of an additional bird-like, backwards-facing toe. It sat facing the wall, showing the altar three stubs where its wings and tail had fallen off centuries ago. Most of the pieces still lay strewn underneath it, where it sat ironically perched on the ground.
It must have been carved in Europe and brought along on the voyage, Adriana surmised as she stepped off the ledge and parted the brush on her way to examine it more closely. The statue was smaller than she expected, the top of its head only reaching the middle of her thigh. She knew it was wrong, but the moment compelled her to do it. After a second's hesitation, she reached out to touch it on the shoulder, even while she did so fearful to damage the antique further, or knock it off balance. Her shaking finger made contact.
Nothing happened. The stone was cold to the touch; exactly as cold as the floor and walls. It did not tip over, and it did not react, because it had already assumed the most stable position that centuries of weather had forced it to take. Also, it was not alive.
Adriana left her hand on it. She stood there for a while, just like that, contemplating, as the sounds of an open field at night took over and roared softly in her ear.
Above her, the moon had not yet begun to redden, or even darken. She'd made better time than expected from the parking lot (really more of a section of expanded shoulder along the unpainted main road), along the trail, through the field, and up the hill. Not only was the moon looking normal, but there seemed to be no special alignment with any of the features of the ruined church. There was still a while to go before the main event, she realized, and having already found all her objectives, her mind began to wander. Finding a subject adrift in the sea of her thoughts, her concentration clung to it like driftwood.
Where in this mess might Lizzie and Darien have had sex?
There were no pews, no altar, no furniture at all, and not even any wood. So it had to have been on the floor. The obvious candidate was the step/stage, since the stone floor was thicker there and there were fewer cracks for grass to grow through. Not that it didn't try. But it made sense that they would want somewhere to go where they wouldn't be prodded by as many protruding stems.
Adriana's hand slipped absently under the waistband of her shorts, and she hardly noticed. It simply felt right.
Maybe that didn't matter, though, she reconsidered, since Lizzie said it was her first time. Surely Darien had wanted to make it special for her. He probably brought cushions, or a blanket, because even if there was no grass, lying directly on stone isn't the most comfortable option, especially when you're not wearing any clothes. Adriana liked the thought of them not wearing any clothes, her supposed heterosexuality be damned.
Within her shorts, her hand grew less tentative. She slid it under the second, softer, layer of fabric and gently brushed her nails over the stubble en route to the junction between her legs. Adriana bypassed her nub for the time being, and caressed her outer lips, slowly moving her fingers inward. She collected a bead of wetness around her entrance, and spread it vertically along her slit. More liquid was quick to replace it. Her brain didn't even register the surprise that it should've at her already being this wet.
Another option occurred to Adriana as she kept rubbing slowly, denying herself the firm touch she craved. Maybe Darien had bent her over the boulder and taken her from behind. Sure, it's less romantic, but it also requires less preparation, and no exposure to the uncomfortable ground. It didn't have to be romantic anyway, she figured. After all, that time in the dorm, Darien had been pumping into Lizzie hard and fast, and Lizzie was loving every second of it. Adriana had loved every second of it, too, just like she was loving every second she spent touching herself now.
She finally rewarded her clit with a generous amount of her own moisture. The sensation was electric and intensely addictive, and she stifled a moan as she shuddered and her knees buckled. Still stroking primarily around her entrance, she teased her clit every few motions, often enough to sustain its need; its longing; but rarely enough that the novelty of every touch she granted it made her eyes roll back in ecstasy.
Her fantasy continued as her arousal burned brighter and brighter. If Lizzie was on her back on the ground, had she wrapped her legs around Darien the way she had in the dorm? If she'd been there, would she have heard again the obscene squishing of his member sinking into her slick, wet grip? Where would his mouth be, kissing her lips? Her neck? Her breast? Working his way down, teasing her where she's the most sensitive, as his hardness parts her folds and buries his head as deep as he can desperately push it? Does he cum inside her? Is he vocal? Does it drip out of her as she stands up, bottomless, to walk back to his car?
Maybe it had dripped on the exact spot where she was standing right now.
At long last, she slid a finger into herself and curled it forward immediately. This was too much. At some point, Adriana had started to lean against the wall for support, and now she slid down it until her bottom hit the floor with a jolt and her back pressed against the cold rock. She no longer had to expend any concentration remaining upright, and she cried out softly as the pad of her finger pressed upwards against her inner walls. Coherence abandoned her as she masturbated vigorously, sitting right in the small clearing she'd created next to the gargoyle. The gargoyle, for its part, was watching with glowing yellow eyes.
It took her too long to realize: the gargoyle was watching with glowing yellow eyes.
Ripping her hand out of her pants, Adriana screamed, but with one of the arms that had been wrapped around its knees, the gargoyle reached out and grabbed her with a flash, and somehow stole the scream off her tongue before it even left her mouth. She couldn't struggle. She couldn't run. She felt as if she were now stone, and the free movement of her flesh were granted to the creature instead.
When the gargoyle stood up and fully extended its form, it was as tall as a grown man. Adriana was shocked. It had looked so much smaller. But its pose, curled up in a ball, had concealed its true height until the monster chose to reveal it. It had also concealed the sinister, spined, and fully erect penis that jutted out from its abdomen, hard as rock in appearance in addition to material. The gargoyle caught her gaze; its eyes were shining bright enough that her vision was becoming accustomed to their light instead of the faint moonglow, causing her surroundings to fade into blackness around her, trapping her in an isolation of the gargoyle's creation.
There was nothing but her, the gargoyle, and stone: the stone underneath her, and the gargoyle's stone grip. In an instant, she felt another touch as a claw roughly pulled down the shorts she'd loosened in one swift motion. The wetness she'd spread around her pussy cooled at once, exposed to the night air. Then came yet another touch, that she could not attribute to hand nor talon. His penis lay on her stomach, and with Adriana immobile, the gargoyle took all the time in the world to leisurely drag it downward without a guiding touch.
She expected it to feel rough, like the concrete of a sidewalk, but to her relief it was as smooth as a river rock, despite the gargoyle's artificial form. To her relief, the spines lay flat for the moment, flush against the surface of the organ, becoming evenly spaced rows and lines of bumps that ran all the way down its length. The absurd thought occurred to Adriana that if it had been sculpted, the artist had done a fantastic done of making the thing appear demonic. Given the current situation, however, who knows how this creature came to be.
The gargoyle loomed over her and pulled her to the ground. It groped her breast through her shirt (thankfully with a human hand rather than a talon) for stability as it eased forward, and Adriana felt the chilly touch of stone against her opening. It weaponized its temperature, cooling her moisture that was already spread to the point where it stole the heat from her. The cold shock of the touch made her gasp with discomfort even before the monster was even inside her.
And then, before she knew it, it was. The gargoyle didn't slam into her, but its push was unrelenting and the enormous member forced its way inside. Adriana felt suddenly, shockingly, violently full as the remnants from her earlier masturbation allowed the creature to bottom out in a single stroke.
She grunted hard as the gargoyle's stone torso collided with her mound, burying its cock entirely inside her. It stretched her wide, and had she been able to fully vocalize, she'd have cried out from the strain rather than the pain. But whatever magic had frozen her kept her largely mute, just as when the gargoyle had grabbed her initially.
As it entered her, it arched its back above her and its bright eyes moved close to hers. In defiance, she avoided eye contact, looking past the monster into the black abyss. Finally finding an object bright enough to see, she latched onto it, and noticed that the moon had become a deep, menacing red.
Adriana was helpless under the gargoyle, mute and frozen, as it began to move. The bumpy stone erection glided in and out of her, as she clenched down on it, her pelvic muscles working in vain to repel the invader. In reality, however, her tight grip only served to amplify the friction against the bumps on the demonic penis, a strange new sensation that complemented the massive insertion. That alongside her arousal from just moments before created a scenario she'd been dreading: in spite of herself, she was once again starting to get turned on.
No. That was absolutely impossible, she decided. Adriana knew herself to be strong, smart, and rational to a fault. She was also a virgin, not some degenerate pervert who would enjoy being immobilized and mobile, and too dignified to even admit interest in sex to her best friend. Her current scenario contradicted everything she thought she knew about herself. Yet here she was, becoming wetter than she'd even been in her entire life, as a magical stone figure had its way with her soft, human flesh.
Her warm, tight, and wet interior seemed to be having some sort of effect on the gargoyle as well. At the very least, it was speeding up as it rocked its pelvis back and forth. The bumps on its cock made occasional, random contact with the wrinkled ridge a finger's-depth inside her, and her eyelids fluttered. Although she still couldn't vocalize, the gargoyle somehow coaxed small sounds from her anyway as each repeated impact against her forced her diaphragm upwards and expelled a small amount of her breath.
Adriana was completely and utterly helpless. She had never expected restraint, magical or otherwise, to feel so good. And when she finally decided to stop trying to struggle and accept her fate, that turned out to be the last key piece her brain needed to fully give in to the pleasure. The rhythm of the gargoyle's bump-studded cock continued unrelenting as she realized her tight walls weren't just trying to deny entry to the monster's penis. They were also trying to milk every part of it for all the delicious friction it could provide.
Finally, she came, spasming as her body achieved the release it had been building toward ever since she entered the chapel and thought about Darien ravishing her best friend. Her cry pierced the night as she bucked her hips against the unmoving, statuesque cock. Adriana's thighs rubbed against the gargoyle's hips as her calves clenched and clenched, while ecstasy radiated from the deepest part of her core. Her mind emptied as the muscles of her vagina rippled against the textured stone behemoth within.
After what seemed like ages, she fell limp, realizing she had moved and yelled during her orgasm, and that the gargoyle had frozen. Her eyes opened again and focused behind the creature, on the moon that had returned to its usual bright white state. The eclipse was over. Adriana scooted backwards, feeling the wetness that had dripped down her ass cheeks leave a gleaming trail on the stone floor.
Any and all light had left the gargoyle's eyes. It remained motionless as Adriana wriggled out from under it, but a few beats after she freed herself, it began to move. Slowly though, this time, like a door mounted ever-so-slightly crooked languidly swinging open with a creak. The stone form curled back up, closed its legs, and wrapped its arms back around them, concealing once again its height, its intimidating member, and any life it had displayed during Adriana's visit.
Adriana approached it with caution, not wanting it to repeat its performance, but it did not react. She confirmed this with a poke on its shoulder, which likewise drew no response. Relieved, she caught her breath for a moment, before retrieving her pants and underwear and sliding them back up her shaking legs.
It was done. She had to get out of here.
During the trudge back down the car is when the shame really started to sink in. Had she actually enjoyed that? She had cum, but she hadn't tried to. Or at least, she meant to do it solo. The event may have been unwanted, but she sure had liked it, sort of. Maybe she just liked being submissive, as embarrassing as that may be to admit. But wait, a gargoyle coming to life? Wasn't that a little far-fetched? Had it even happened to begin with?
The shame shifted to guilt. Guilt that she had enjoyed it, or had least her body had, physically. Mentally, it hadn't really finished sinking in. And then, as she believed it less and less, guilt that she would've concocted such a depraved sexual fantasy to arouse herself. And finally, almost laughably given everything else that had happened, guilt that she had desecrated—whether it was with rape or consensual sex or even masturbating with an overactive imagination—a potentially fragile historical site.
What's more, she hadn't taken a single picture. What was she going to tell her friends she did, get raped by a statue? She didn't expect that to go over well. Obviously, they wouldn't believe her (she wasn't sure she even believed herself), but they would certainly be concerned, thinking maybe a human attacker had lain in wait. What would happen next?
But then it hit her. They would believe her after all. Or at least, Lizzie would.
Lizzie, who also lost her virginity at the chapel. Lizzie, who recommended Adriana visit during the eclipse specifically. Lizzie, with whom she suddenly had a lot more in common than she expected. -->
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