For its rejuvenative powers, the priests of Axaulx Abbey relied on The Tree of Antiquity, which had graced the courtyard’s basin for centuries. Night after night, year after year after year, the women of Axaulx found complete satisfaction in the coital embrace of the Fathers. Prior to each fuck, the priests made sure to visit The Tree. But a minute or two of phallic exposure, and the priests were good to go.

On the night before Easter, the simultaneous orgasmic cries of a dozen novices seemingly lured a single bolt of lightning from an otherwise clear sky. Sunrise Easter morn, the priests discovered that the Tree of Antiquity was bare of leaves, its bark was crusted gray, and a fog of soft ash covered the courtyard.

“What the—” one priest intoned. His profane gasp did the trick: the beleaguered tree trembled then collapsed. There was nothing to be done but bury the remains.

Finished with the interment, the priests wondered, “What about the maidens? It being Easter and all, they’ll be wanting servicing sure as— But without the tree to bolster our—”

Father Ignatius had a suggestion. “I’ve a niece, actually a grandniece, or maybe she’s a great niece, or maybe a great grandniece— In any case perhaps she could be a stand-in for the tree.”

“How would that work?” Ignatius’ fellow colleagues inquired.

“Well, she stands in the basin and pretends she’s the tree,” Father Ignatius explained. “She’s had some mime training as well as ballet and yoga.”

“Worth a shot,” the others agreed.

“Only too happy to help, Uncle Iggy,” Jamie said.

Easter noon, in the barren courtyard, she assumed a tree pose.

Father Ignatius approached, cautiously at first.

With no evidence of phallic resurrection, he drew closer.

Still nothing ... Until...

“Oh fucking fuck!” Jamie gasped, and her girl juice gushed, flooding her uncle’s mouth and sending an erotic charge to his manhood.

The pair went at it cock and cunt all Easter long.

“No more! No more! No more!” Jamie implored come midnight.

Where there was once the Tree of Antiquity now stands the tombstone of Father Ignatius. Axaulx Abbey converted to a convent, and each evening the Sisters of Ignatius anoint themselves with Iggy’s beneficence before retiring to their chambers and finding in each other succor of the most heavenly sort.