Sexual Confessions (Closed for Neverwinternite and AndyGoat)

Sexual Confessions

Saturday Night

Michelle Birks sat at her perfume table, spraying her eau de toilette on her neck and lightly on her wrists. She sighed, staring at her reflection as she could see in the background, her husband of 3 years, adjusting his tie. She closed her eyes for moment, trying to remember the last time she was happy in this sham marriage. Well, it wasn’t really a sham. When she married John, she was hopelessly in love with him. He was a gorgeous man with dark brown hair, light brown eyes and an athletic body. She didn’t just marry for his body but also for his mind.

He was a top executive in one of the world’s famous computer corporations. His constant travel and meetings put a daily stress on their married life. The free time they did spend together, it wasn’t about them anymore. All they talked about was business, news, etc. Never about how they felt, how their day went, and so forth. She remembered a time when they used to, in the early days of their marriage.

They were completely disconnected; two strangers in a loveless marriage just staying together to keep up appearances. She didn’t leave him because in their tight-knit community, all any one cared about was appearances. It would be a huge scandal that she couldn’t afford to have.

She was a prominent lawyer, working at one of the top firms in the country and playing a huge role in her community. Their marriage was regarded as the perfect marriage. She sighed as she fixed her hair one last time, to get ready to go to another boring fundraiser, this time for John’s company.

The only thing she was looking forward to was Sunday. There was a rumor spreading that a new priest had taken over their church. According to Mrs. Williams, their busybody next door neighbour, he looked almost too young to be a priest. In addition, he was very handsome.

Mark had felt the call as long as he could remember. Even before he was ordained, he lived like a priest, and while there were times when it was difficult, he never doubted that it was his destiny. All of his closest friends and family had agreed that he would make a fine priest, a good counselor, and a good spiritual leader. Now that it was finally becoming a reality, he found that he was plagued with doubts. Was he strong enough? Was he pure enough?

The service Sunday morning went well, though. It was a small church in a wealthy suburb, where the second-hand Honda he had bought before starting seminary stood out like a sore thumb. He felt that his sermon, on the importance of faith and good works, had probably not gone over as well as he had hoped, but it was just the beginning. He would get better.

After mass, he had been surprised by the warmth he was shown by the parishioners as they filed out, introducing themselves and thanking them. It seemed that half the women in the parish were inviting him to one thing or another. He smiled and expressed interest and gratitude without commiting to anything.

"I'll have to check my calender. The deacons are keeping me on a pretty short leash, I'm afraid." He must have used the line a half dozen times before everyone left. It didn't hurt to show that the new priest was actually human. Some of the women laughed much harder than he thought the joke deserved, but then, he was no great judge of comedy.

He went back into the church to straighten things out for the late morning service. According to the notes left by his predecessor, this was when the Important People were likely to come, to be seen. He knew that sort of attitude was inevitable, but a part of him did wish that church could remain wholly a spiritual affair. Perhaps in time, he would persuade his flock to see things that way.

Sunday morning

“Michelle, are you ready?” John bellowed from the bathroom door.

She didn’t answer right away as she was still preoccupied about what to wear this morning. She was in their walk-in closet, perusing through some of her many outfits. She had to be choosy because she knew how everyone especially at this late service, tended to size up people according to their attire.

She sighed, as she finally picked out an elegant, tight-fitted black dress that would be suitable for church. She walked to the full-length mirror, and tried it on, admiring her figure. She felt John’s eyes on her and a slight smile went on her lips. She knew he would always be attracted to her but still something was missing.

He strolled out of the bathroom, uncertain of what he should do next. Seeing her, stirred something deep within him but he decided to shove his hands in his pockets instead.

“Well, I guess I got my answer,” he said as his eyes roamed over her body.

“Let’s go, John. We don’t want to be late.” She said, as she straightened her dress once more.

John opened the front door and they approached the car. He walked over to the passenger side and opened her door.

“Thanks, darling,” she replied as she slipped inside their Mercedes Benz, displaying her long legs and revealing bit of her thong.

John caught a glimpse and he immediately felt a slight tent in his pants. He closed his eyes, wondering how their marriage had slipped through his fingers, especially their lack of intimacy. He closed her door and walked over to their side.

A few years back, they would have ventured for a quickie in the car before going to church. Now, all he could do was stare straight ahead, as he backed the car out of the driveway and attempt to make small talk to distract from the issue at hand.

Thankfully, the church was 15 minutes away. He saw the huge crowd entering through the front door as he parked.

Michelle practically jumped out of the car before he even could get the gearshift into park. He had to wonder what was going on with her until he reached where the crowd was gathering.

Standing to the side of the church entrance, was the new priest welcoming all the parishioners. However, what caught him off guard were his looks. He resembled a handsome model that should be walking the catwalk in Paris than giving a sermon.
He stared at Michelle and saw a mixture of astonishment and lust apparent on her face. He had to admit this made him very uncomfortable.

The first service had been what Mark expected, more or less. Modest people with modest lives, come to worship out of some mixture of duty, faith or love. There was a quiet reverence that wasn't quite as stirring as he might have wished for, but that felt honest and true. The second service came as a bit of a shock, though. When he was told that people came to be seen, he had thought it meant that they wanted to be seen doing right by God. These people, particularly the women, were here to be looked at, like it was some sort of cocktail party.

As he greeted them, he could see in them a cynicism that ran so deep they probably were unaware. The women were elegantly styled, in dresses that were completely inappropriate, and rich jewelry that proclaimed their material wealth and status. It seemed that every woman he greeted was her body at him, and he felt a dark fury growing in him that they should treat the church so disrespectfully.

One in particular, a Mrs. Birks, had worn a dress with a skirt so short her thighs were almost completely exposed, and low cut enough that her breasts were displayed like grapefruit at the market. She had dramatic make-up on, and gold jewelry glittering with gems. The smile she had given him was appraising and cool, and her husband scowled in her wake like a conquered rival, displayed in triumph.

Her appearance had been so startling, that he had actually stared at her for a moment, before he remembered himself and greeted them. He told himself that he would attempt to guide her in a more spiritual direction if he was given the chance, but the thoughts that were racing through his mind were not particularly religious. He found he was trembling as he mounted the pulpit and began the service, but by the time he delivered his sermon, he found himself full of a passion and intensity that he had not thought he possessed.

After, as he stood again at the doors, offering blessings and introductions he found himself speculating about the lives of his parishioners. In particular, he wondered about Mrs. Birks. She was a beautiful young woman, but she clearly had lost her way. If he could bring her back on the right path, spiritually, he would count it a victory. The trouble was that he couldn't help thinking of her carnally. He would pray for strength, he decided. The Lord would provide.

Michelle couldn’t take her eyes off the new priest; there was something about him that she found very intriguing. When she and John finally approached him, he offered his hand and she gripped it tightly, staring deeply into his eyes. She knew it was definitely making him uncomfortable because eventually, his eyes looked to the side, avoiding hers.

She introduced herself and John to him and they entered the church. She felt him staring at her afterwards, almost checking her out and she was quite pleased that he did. She practically dragged John to front pews, so she wouldn’t miss a word he was saying and also be free to ogle him. Her brown eyes roamed every inch of his body and was fantasizing about how he must look without any clothes on. A slight blush rose upon her cheeks at her dirty thoughts but she couldn’t help herself.

Sadly, the sermon ended too quickly and she wasn’t ready to leave just yet. She watched as everyone got up while she remained glued to her seat. John didn’t realize that she wasn’t following him and that was fine with her. She wanted to find a way to get some alone time with this priest and learn more about him.

She turned her head towards the door and saw the last parishioners were just leaving. She watched as he made his way down the middle aisle to where she sat. She saw him looking straight at her but his handsome face was expressionless.

As the last people drifted away, Mark walked back into the chapel, exhausted already though it was only early afternoon. He walked down the aisle, looking up at the stained glass over the altar. It was a bit too modern for his taste, but he tried to draw comfort and strength from it. He was here to do God's work, not just what was easy, he reminded himself.

As if to highlight the thought, he noticed a woman still sitting at the front pew. He felt his heart racing at the thought that it might be her, and at the same time he forced himself to remember his role. He was here to minister, and counsel, but not to condemn or lust. Especially not to lust. But as he approached and saw it was her, he felt a violent desire growing, quite literrally, under his vestments. He remembered years ago, his body betraying him like this, and he had prayed and studied for years until he could control himself. Except now he couldn't. He was grateful for the way the robes fell, concealing his embarassment.

"Mrs. Birks," he said, his throat just a little tight, as he tried to look her in the eye with the calm and strength that he should have. It was impossible. His eyes jumped to her breasts, to her thighs, and then away, and he felt himself blush.

"Is something troubling you, my child?" Normally he wouldn't have addressed any adult that way, particularly not a woman, but he was trying very hard to remind himself of his purpose here.

"Is something troubling you, my child?"

She glanced at her tightly clasped hands before answering, trying to think of something to say to him. She never got tongue-tied around men but it seemed different with him.

Finally, she answered.

“Father, I would like to seek guidance from you with some personal problems I have been having.”

She peered into his eyes to gage his reaction. He appeared to be very uncomfortable and was shifting from foot to foot. As he did, she caught a glimpse of a slight bulge under his vestments and it sent a shiver down her spine. Unknowingly, she licked her lips and felt herself getting a little bit wet between her thighs.

He may be a priest but above all else, he was still a man, she thought. A very virile, desirable young man with needs as she saw his eyes glance at her cleavage. She had to wonder how long it would take him to break down and gave into his basest desires or stay strong and ignore them. She was willing to bet it wouldn’t take long if she had anything to say about it.

She waited for his response, wondering if he would be willing to help her or most likely, brush her off. It was true that she needed help with her marriage but also wanted a sounding board for her extramarital activities.

He clenched his teeth and wiped his hands on the front of the robe. He was as nervous as he had been the day that he had taken his vows. More, maybe, because then, he had been sure of his purpose, and now ... now he wasn't sure what he was doing. He was sure of what he should be doing, but no matter how much he wished it, his body seemed determined to be aroused by her.

His eyes opened wide when she licked her lips. The glimpse of her little pink tongue was like a shot of adrenalin, and he felt his heart racing as he thought of what he had chosen to give up. He had never felt desire like this before. This was like a madness. He took a deep breath, turned his eyes away from the luscious temptation before him, and said a silent prayer for strength. God was testing him, but he would prove himself worthy of the honor the church had bestowed on him.

A priest's first duty is to serve God, by serving as his representative on Earth. That meant tending to his flock, no matter what he thought of them. The Lord would judge Mrs. Birks, Mark's duty was to try to guide her. He wouldn't be able to do that if he pushed her out the door because of his own weakness. He would just endure. After all, it was just an erection. It wasn't like he was being martyred or anything. Though at that moment, he thought being fed to a lion might be easier than facing this woman.

"H - How can I help," he stammered. Then he shook his head. She had just told him how he could help. "Forgive me, I seem to be .. distracted, this afternoon. Do you wish to make a formal confession, or is it just something you want to talk over?"

He was torn, part of him desperately wanted the screen of the confessional and the formality of the sacrament, but another part of him wanted her to keep looking at him. Even if she did make him feel like she was the lion he was about to be fed to.

Forgive me, I seem to be .. distracted, this afternoon. Do you wish to make a formal confession, or is it just something you want to talk over?"

I pondered about the two choices and considered the pros and cons of each. If I chose a formal confession, it would be much easier to admit my sins without having to stare directly into his face especially when I got into some of the illicit and kinky things I had done. In addition, I wasn’t too certain if I would be able to express my thoughts clearly at all with him sitting across from me.

At least if I was in the confessional booth, he wouldn’t be able to see how aroused I got talking about my extramarital relationships and how they provided constant masturbation material. Nevertheless, that could be a good or bad thing depending how I looked at it. If we were face to face, it would be hard for him to hide his reactions but if we used the booth, all I could rely on was his voice and the questions he asked, which also could be a turn on. Therefore, I opted for the formal confession.

“Father, I would prefer a formal confession. I have many sins I would like to ask forgiveness.”

I hoped he would be able to handle all the soul-bearing tales I was going to tell him.

Mark nodded his head, relieved that he would not have to try to make eye contact with her as she confessed. He told himself not to make assumptions about what she would confess, but the way she wore her make up and the dress she had worn left little doubt in his mind. The Lord will forgive my desires, he thought, for He knows I am as He made me.

He stepped into the center chamber and pulled the door closed, waiting until he heard her sitting down in the booth before he opened the screen between them. He couldn't help looking down at her long, gorgeous legs and wondering what it would feel like to touch them. He rearranged his vestments so they did pull against the aching, swollen member standing up from his lap. He clenched his teeth and let out a sigh of frustration. This woman had come to him for help, and it was his obligation to give her spiritual comfort.

It wasn't her fault that he was thinking about her body in completely inappropriate ways. He was strong enough for this, he knew it. He mumbled a little prayer in latin to invoke the sacrament of confession, and then spoke to her through the ornate screen.

"God hears, and He will show mercy on you if your confession is sincere. His blessings on you, child. What have you to confess?"

I got up from the pew, happy that the priest would be ready to hear my confession. I had many things to get off my chest, so maybe one confession would not be enough. He stood to the side, letting me pass him.

I sat down in the booth. I heard him say,

"God hears, and He will show mercy on you if your confession is sincere. His blessings on you, child. What have you to confess?

“I have many things to confess, Father, for I have sinned.”

I paused for a moment, not certain where to start but I sighed. I might as well start from the beginning, I thought.

I crossed my long legs, and closed my eyes as I said, “It begin about a year ago.”

It was in the second year of our marriage and I had about given up on trying to spice up our sex life. I blushed at mentioning this aspect so openly with the priest. I had tried many things with John from asking him to try different sexual positions, having sex in diverse places, food play, sexy lingerie, anything to make our sex life interesting. He wasn’t interested in any of it.

I paused again, hoping I wasn’t overstepping the boundary by mentioning this. Therefore, one night, when we were in the midst of making love, in the same damn missionary position, having him cum first again, not really concerned about my pleasure, I made a decision. I decided to look outside of my marriage for other available options.

I stopped there, waiting to hear the priest respond.

It was exactly as he had feared. The woman was entirely consumed with her lust, and he felt himself drawn into it. His fascination with her appearance was bad enough, but the story she was telling him was pornographic, and she was sparing no details. He could actually feel each beat of his heart as the blood pumped through his hugely swollen cock. He didn't think he had ever been anywhere near this aroused in his entire life, and he was actually squirming a little in his seat.

He thought about all the families he had met today, all of the couples he had introduced himself to. Did they all do the things she was talking about? Was his whole church some sort of deviant brothel? He tried to focus on the important details. The sins were equal in God's eye, no matter what position she was using for her adultery, and the specifics of foreplay were not important. Yet all he could think to ask was for that sort of elaboration.

"You .. you say you decided to .. look elsewhere for satisfaction?" he asked, when he realized she had paused for him to speak. "I take it you were able to find some sort of carnal satisfaction, outside of your marriage?"

He did not tell her that adultery was against the commandments. Surely she knew that. He told himself that he would listen to her story, and give her penance and be done with it. He would have to examine his own soul at some point, but he couldn't do that at the same time he was listening to her obscene tale. He couldn't do it when he was suddenly consumed with lust as well.

She listened as he answered her back and she thought she could hear a bit of lust present in his voice.

“Yes, Father. I did find my carnal satisfaction at work,” I replied.

I was getting worried that what I was going to say was bordering on pornographic but it was too late now.

It happened a few days after that night. Sam, my fellow colleague who I worked with closely had always been flirting with me for weeks. I constantly ignored his advances because I was committed to my marriage. However, that night, something changed.

We had been working intensely on a contract that had to be done by the next morning. It had been hours since we were in the office: reading and editing; everything you could imagine. By that time, everyone had left. It was night, I was extremely frustrated about my marriage, and this contract made it worse.

“Sam, I’m going to take a walk,” I said tiredly as I went to the ladies’ room.

I pushed the door open and splashed some cool water on my face. I held unto the sink and sighed when I felt someone pressed hard against me.

My first instinct was to panic but when Sam uttered, “Just relax,” in my ear; I felt all the stress drain from my body. I leaned into him, feeling his erection on my back and I knew I wanted him to take me then.

I uncrossed my legs in the booth and my hand slid under the material of my thong. I began to rub myself slightly as I continued.

He pushed me slightly forward, one hand holding onto my hip as the other rubbed my slightly wet pussy through my thong. He kissed my neck as he did and I moaned.

Sam asked, “What do you want me to do?”

I purred, “I want you to fuck me from behind.”

I stopped again, after saying these words, as my fingers rubbed even more vigorously, my sex getting even more wet.

It wasn't that he'd never heard the word fuck before. Growing up he'd heard it pretty often, but almost always used in anger or to talk about something dirty. He had never heard anyone use it the way she did, as an invitation, a pleasure that he had never allowed himself. He knew that she was just telling her story when she said "I want you to fuck me from behind," but it was as if she was saying it to him. As much as he tried not to, he found himself wishing she would, and he clenched his fists in frustration. He should not be so weak that one adulteress could disturb him so.

He let out a low groan. He wasn't sure if she heard him, but there was a silence that was interrupted by a wet sound. He turned to look at her, and saw she had her head back, and her eyes closed. Looking down, he saw her thighs were spread and her hand was pushed between them, fingers busily working under the black silk of her underwear. He stared in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but what could he say? This was not something that he had been prepared for. So for a moment, he just watched, and as suddenly as it had filled him, his outrage drained away.

It didn't leave him completely, but his shock was balanced by a fresh surge of lust. He had never seen a woman's sex. He couldn't see it now, but this was closer than he had ever come. He knew, beyond any doubt, that she should not be doing that in the confessional, but try as he might, he could not make himself say anything to stop her.

His voice was choked, barely a whisper, as he damned himself.

"Go on," he said.

I barely could hear him but I did catch his groaning which intrigued me.

I wondered if he was getting aroused hearing my story because when I said, “I want you to fuck me from behind,” I was reminiscing about that night but also thinking about the priest doing that to me. My juices almost soaked through my thong at that dirty thought and I was tempted to rip off it my body but it was hard to tell how much he could see though the screen.

Sam next murmured, “There’s something first I want to do to you before we do that.”

He turned me around and kissed me. At first, the kiss was gentle becoming more intense as I wrapped my arms around his back, as his slender fingers went straight to my breasts. Our tongues met in a sordid dance as we kissed, as he rubbed my nipples through my see-through black shirt.

He proceeded then to lick them, hardening them with his wet tongue, eliciting gasps from me that echoed through the washroom.

I knew it was wrong to be masturbating in the confessional but I couldn’t help myself as I unbuttoned my top, pulling it down, exposing myself to the open air as I reached around my back and unclasped my bra. My breasts were aching to be touched and I wished the priest could help me.

I set my breasts free and I gently squeezed them, pinching my nipples, as they got harder I continued to speak.

Sam worked his way down my body, lifting my shirt over my head, leaving me only in my black silk bra and thong. Eventually, he was on his knees, gently touching my swollen clit and gliding his finger down my moist slit. I arched my back as his tongue licked my clit and then sucked on it. It was something I longed for John to do to me but he refused.

His hazel eyes gazed into my own as he growled, “I want to taste you.”

I let out a moan in the confessional, my finger entering my aching pussy, thrusting in and out of me, as I was nearing my release. I knew he could hear me but I didn’t care. I needed to cum and I was right on the edge.

Sam licked along my moist slit slowly, causing me to purr in pleasure. He rubbed my clit as he slid one finger into me, finger fucking me as I pushed my legs together, trapping his head between them.

“More,” I begged as he pushed another finger in, thrusting hard and deep, as I bucked and writhed against the sink. Somehow, he managed to stroke my hard nipple, I couldn’t hold back, and I came hard. I felt his lips drinking my juices as I panted.

My orgasm ripped through my body in the booth as I spoke those last words, my cum running over my fingers. I tasted myself but I still wasn’t quite satisfied because it didn’t cure my horniness and it made it worse.

I wanted the priest in here with me, letting me suck his hard, thick cock, needing his cum to flow down my throat. At this moment, I would do anything that he asked or needed. I could hear the wet sounds my mound made as my fingers slid along my slit, eliciting another groan from me as I came once again.

Mark watched her, fascinated as she pulled out her breasts, his cock throbbed, painfully in his pants and he could think of nothing that he wanted more than to slide it into her pussy. It didn't matter if his soul went straight to hell, because he was in a hell of wanting her. Her fingers pinched and pulled at her beatiful breasts as she went on with her story, any pretense of true confession or remorse lost as she rubbed her pussy frantically, cumming inside his confessional, just on the opposite side of the screen while he watched and did nothing. When she finished, and sat there, panting for breath, her fingers rubbing more slowly, he seemed to regain control of himself.

"You filthy little whore," he said. He got up and burst out of the confessional, even the robes couldn't hide the huge swelling of his cock now, as they tented out obscenely. He flung the door open as stared in at her, her tits hanging out, her drss bunched up around her waist. The sight filled him with lust, but he reminded himself that he was a priest, this was a church. "You should be ashamed of yourself, playing with your pussy in a house of God, under the shield of confession! You are nothing but a dirty, Godless slut, and He will punish you for this terrible sin!"

His hands were trembling as he reached down to pull her out of the booth. He would put her out of the church. He had to, before he gave into the temptation that was boiling in his blood, the searing pain that shot through his cock. He had slipped, by watching her, but he had not fallen, yet. if he could only get her out before he lost control, he could beg the Lord to forgive him, and seek the advice of the bishop.

As his fingers touched her skin, he was stunned. So soft warm and silky smooth. He trieed not to imagine how good she would feel against his body. His voice shook with rage and frustration as he pulled her to her feet in the tiny little booth. "You must never come back to this church until you are ready to free yourself from this life of depravity, do you understand, slut?"

"You must never come back to this church until you are ready to free yourself from this life of depravity, do you understand, slut?"

I was shocked at the way he was shouting at me, calling me a “slut.” However, in the midst of it, I was even more aroused, seeing his hard cock pushing through his vestments. I had to admit even though I was in front of him half-naked; I kind of wanted this to happen. I could see the lust and anger flashing over his face but I knew he wanted me.

“I…I,” I stammered, I couldn’t think of anything to say so, I grabbed onto his arm and pulled him against me, to show him how much I wanted him. I knew I was acting slutty but I wanted him to be rough with me. With our bodies finally pressed together, I grabbed his swollen shaft.

“Please, Father, let me…..” my voice trailed off as I began to rub his cock, staring into his eyes.

“Please, Father, let me…..” She pressed herself against him. His fingers dug into her shoulders where he held her, as she began to rub his cock through his thick robes. He shuddered. It felt too good. His resolve began to crumble. If he could only get her out, but there were people outside, he couldn't just push her out like this, looking even more obscene than if she were simply nude, with her clothes all in disarray.

He stared down at her, and his need for her was more than he could stand. His anger and his lust fed eachother, until he shook with the strain of containing it all. He didn't know if he wanted to fuck her or burn her at the stake as a witch. Both, he realized.

"Let you what?" he snarled through clenched teeth. "Do you want me to let you go, you whore? Do you want me to ask God to forgive you for defiling this church with your disgusting perversions? Do you want me to let you take my cock out and show me what a filthy slut you are?"

God forgive me, he thought to himself, he was turning into a monster. And he desperately wanted her to finish what she had started. He started shaking her in his desperation.

Do you want me to let you take my cock out and show me what a filthy slut you are?"

“Yes, I do,” I moaned as he let go of me and I fell to the floor. I grasped his thighs tightly as I continued to rub his manhood.

“Oh God,” I cried out as I knew it was wrong but my feelings were overwhelming, my lust and intense want and need for him overpowering me completely.

I pushed his vestments upward and with one hand, I pulled his underwear down to his knees. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as his thick, erect cock sprang free.

I grabbed it with both hands and I licked the tip of his cock, tasting a bit of precum.

“Mmmm,” I purred, never losing eye contact with him.

As soon as her tongue touched his cock, he knew he was absolutely helpless to resist. He grabbed the doorframe of the booth to stop himself falling over. The sight of her - holding the robe up out of her way as she ran her tongue along the length of his throbbing cock - had turned his legs to jelly. As she turned her eyes up to his face, he felt himself burning with shame at his own hypocrisy. He condemned her as a whore, but he was no more able to resist her than he was to stop the sun going down. Precum was starting to flow quickly from the tip of his cock, a little stream that she lapped up eagerly


"Is this what you wanted, slut?" he whispered. "Do you want to be the priest's whore?"

He grabbed her head, pushing his cock into her mouth. He knew he was a lost soul, now, but if he was damned, he would at least embrace the sin.

“Yes, I want to be the priest’s whore.” I murmured. That's when he pushed my head, forcing me to take all of his cock. I almost gagged but I recovered quickly by sucking him as he grabbed me by the hair. I bobbed up and down his length, as he moaned quietly above me.

I was waiting on him to tell me what to do next as I continued to wrap my lips around his hard cock. My sex was extremely wet as I pulled the string of my thong aside and plunged two fingers into myself. I groaned around him as I pleasured myself.

She said she wanted to be his whore, and sure enough, she began fingering her pussy eagerly as he pushed his cock into her mouth. He felt his hips jerking forward, out of control as she sucked him all the way down to the root. It was too much for him, and he held her head tight as he began to furiously fuck her mouth. His whole life, he had denied himself the pleasure of a woman's body, and now that he was giving in, he wasn't going to miss anything.

"Look up at me, slut," he whispered to her. "Look up at your priest. Rub your filthy cunt while you suck your Father's cock. This is what you've been praying for, isn't it?"

"Look up at your priest. Rub your filthy cunt while you suck your Father's cock. This is what you've been praying for, isn't it?"

Fuck, it was what I have been praying for and now that I had him where I wanted him, there was no way either of us was going to turn back now.

I rubbed my pussy vigorously as he face fucked me as my wetness seeped over my fingers. This was the wettest I had been in such a long time.

I peered into his eyes to show him, that I was definitely enjoying this. I gripped his cock harder in my mouth, feeling he was getting close. I couldn’t wait to have all of his cum sliding down my throat.

My large breasts were swinging back and forth and he couldn’t take his gaze off of them. I wondered what he was going to do next with that lustful look in his eyes.

With a groan, he let go. His cock began to pump, his body trembled and he held his breath. It was too much. She was too much, and he couldn't hold back a moment longer. With a violent shudder, he felt himself erupt, feeling like his blood had turned to liquid fire and shot through the aching shaft of his cock. He felt himself draining into her, his life spurting out of his cock in hot, sticky white blasts, flooding her mouth with a load that had been held back his entire life.

He could not dream of any greater pleasure. If this was the price of his soul, so be it, he thought, looking down at her as his cum spilled out of the corners of her mouth. He thrust his cock in deeper, feeling another spasm of pleasure whip through his body. He looked down at the obscene woman. The whore, with her tits out and her fingers rubbing her slutty pussy.

He realized he was far from through with her. He had only taken the edge off of a need he had spent his life pretending didn't exist. He looked down at her body and shuddered, pulling his cock out of her mouth. It was still hard, still aching with need.

"Get up, whore," he said, finally able to control his voice, sounding human again, at last. He realized that he had to be out of his mind to do this here, in the church, where anyone could come in. In the sacristy, though, they would have more privacy. He nodded, and pulled his vestments over his hard, dripping cock. "Cover yourself. If someone should find out, we'll both be ruined. Now come with me."

As he came down her throat, it sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine, finally bringing her to the point of ecstasy. She writhed in bliss, as his cum kept flowing and flowing until it dribbled out of her mouth. She liked that he continued to face fuck her, shooting another load of his seed down her throat again.

“He’s certainly insatiable,” she thought as he removed his cock. She liked a man that could fuck for hours and push her sexual limits. It definitely seemed she had found her match. She smiled as she licked the remaining cum off her lips, relishing his taste.

Even being called whore didn’t bother her as much as she thought it would. It was a turn on to hear the priest speaking such foul language.

She pulled back the top of her dress and fixed back her thong. She tried to make herself look decent enough because she did hear people conversing outside the confessional. It would be detrimental to them both if anyone found out.

She watched as the priest exited first, trying to appear normal. She followed him a few minutes later, as she saw disappear down a flight of stairs. She went in the same general direction, scanning over all the church to see if anyone was in the pews. She turned her towards the large front doors and saw most of the conversation was outside.

She sighed in relief as she saw him waiting for her down at the bottom of the staircase.