The Priest. Fiction.
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned …
With a final lipstick check in the rear vision mirror Allessandra steps from the car, counting the steps it takes to reach the inside of the church, 39. The white silk shirt strains against her breasts, it is as though they are fighting for their freedom. The grey linen skirt that on anyone else would look proper only served to expose the curvaceous lines that prove her womanhood. The sound of her black high heel boots against the marble floor cause eyes to glance her way, looks of disapproval shoot from all directions.
Women regard Allessandra with disdain as though they could blame her for their husband’s lust as if she alone were responsible for their philandering ways. Not that she cared, her personal belief being that people should do whatever the hell they wanted and damn the consequences but then she would think that, wouldn’t she? If it were up to her she would kneel down in the middle of this church and take every cock here inside her mouth, show these women how to really please their man. The thought warms her as she makes her way to the confessional.
It is as though he were waiting for her to arrive and truth be told he was. He had made it his business to be here at the same time every week, at first almost convincing himself that it were purely coincidental before finally admitting he counted the days. Something about this woman moved him beyond his commitment to God, his body responded in ways he had never felt before. Sure, he had felt the yearnings of all young men but until now he had managed to control them. Taking a deep breath her scent sent a twitch through his body not least affecting his cock.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been a week since my last confession.” Allessandra spoke softly, the words seemed to him the colour of pink cotton candy – sugar spun sweet as can be. She waited of for him to tell her to continue but for whatever reason he seemed unable to speak. Resting his head on the cool stone wall behind him he listened carefully, hands clasped together in prayer. “Father, do you know what a Bukkake party is?” Allessandra laughed realising that of course he wouldn’t so without waiting for a reply she continued, “I invited a dozen men to my hotel room. I served them wine dressed in only corset and stockings. They settled back watching porn, talking amongst themselves as much for reassurance as anything else. These men. these powerful men became boys – powerless and at a loss, just waiting for me to lead them into temptation”.
The word ‘temptation’ sat in the cubicle, the weight of it enough to make the man squirm in his seat. The now familiar ache between his legs taking comfort well out of reach, he should stop her, stop this right now but the very thought is enough to bite his own lips. He barely recognises his own voice as he tells her to continue, the sound of longing that comes from somewhere deep inside almost lodging itself in the back of his throat. Allessandra could hear it, she had long ago learned the language of desire. With a smile on her lips she went on, pressing her burning cheek to the cool ornate grate.
“When the time was ripe I knelt on the white rug I had placed in the centre of the room beckoning the men to undress. to offer their cocks. Can you imagine, Father? Twelve men in a circle touching their cocks waiting their turn? It was delicious. They knew the rules, they were allowed, encouraged to touch me with only their cocks. The feeling of having all these cocks pressed against my body, the feel of one then two cocks in my mouth – well, it made my pussy ache with want. But mostly, mostly it was watching them come undone that drove me to distraction. The feeling is so powerful that even though they may well be thinking as they stand above me that it is I who is submitting, really it is me who is in control. I get to decide when he will cum even as he prepares to shoot his load down my throat.”
By now, his cock in hand, he wants nothing more than to press it to the grate and feel her tongue, wet and hot, lick the pre-cum. No, that’s a lie – what he really wants is to ram his hard cock down her fucking throat to shut her up, he wants to bend her over and fuck her so hard that it takes her breath away. His thoughts devour him beyond reason. He can hear the material from her skirt lifting up past her thighs, he knows she is touching herself and all the time knowing the effect she is having on him. Is that what turns her on? In his minds eye he can see all these men wanking over her, slapping her face with their cocks, feeling her soft hair, looking into her eyes as they shoot their cum all over her.
“Father, even talking about what happened is making me hot. I can’t help but think of you so close. Forgive me, Father but I imagined you were one of those men. I stuck my tongue out further and moaned that much harder at the very thought.” With one hand she opens her shirt and starts to pull on her nipples when suddenly his voice brings her back to reason.
“Stop! Please, stop. I have to go. I will see you next week.” Wiping his cum from the wall he left the confessional leaving her to compose herself. Moving quickly to her car, this time only taking 36 steps she collapsed on the seat. Two hours until her next client. God.
As difficult as it was to force herself to walk inside the church, not once did she consider leaving. Even dressed demurely, Allessandra’s curves looked dangerous as though any minute her large breasts would break free, the very thought made her nipples harden. Not here, not now. Focused only on putting one high heeled foot in front of the other she found her way to the confessional. He was waiting.
She had only ever heard his voice, deciding from the beginning it best not to look into this man’s eyes. This was the one man she would not, could not, seduce. Sitting on the hard bench Allessandra gathers her thoughts hoping she can at least speak the words that seem to be stuck in the back of her throat. The need to confess her sins is one thing but she isn’t any closer to not committing them in the first place. Hearing his breath, this man has patience she thinks to herself.
He has been waiting for 27 minutes. For the past five weeks she has been coming, every Monday between 3 – 4pm. The smell of her perfume, the scent of her skin – intoxicating to the man in black. Her confessions had found their way into his dreams, he would wake with sweat on his brow and a cock so hard the shame would stay with him the following day. But still, he waited for her. Apart from her scent, he would recognise her voice anywhere, she spoke with a kind of breathlessness – words pushed out, followed by a sigh.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a week since my last confession. I’ve been unable to resist this sexual animal I have become. It beckons me closer and closer to the edge, it isn’t that I can’t stop, it is that I don’t want to. I shouldn’t want to do the things I have done and continue to do.” It would have amused anyone listening that the whore would blush so with these words.
“Tell me, what have you done? I am listening” he feels his breath coming in short bursts, the excitement building. Moving his legs apart slightly so his cock could swell unencumbered, he waits for her to continue.
“I call him The Major. He comes to me in his lunch hour. I meet him at the door dressed like the whore I am, he kisses me. God, he kisses me long and hard until my knees buckle with the desire of it all. My hands reach for his cock, it’s always hard and I have no shame, I reach for the zip of his trousers. He will push me down to my knees before rewarding me with his cock in my mouth. I love the feel of it in my mouth, the feel of his hands on my head. He fucks my face until he almost comes. And then … shall I continue?”
“Carry on, nothing you say here can shock me.” The truth lies on the horizon.
“He follows me to the bedroom, clothes are torn off and all the while I am so turned on that I just want to bend over and let him fuck me hard and fast. He likes to watch me suck his cock before finally allowing me to ride him until the end. It is too much but it is not enough. It whets my appetite rather than satisfy it. The animal inside wants more and I will not deny her. After he has left I will take another and another until my body is tired. But it is not enough, Father, it is never enough.” Caressing the inside of her thighs, she pulls her skirt up without even realising it. Slipping her fingers between the lace of her panties and the soft folds of her pussy, the ever present wetness warm and sticky. A sound that was a cross between a sigh and a moan escapes her lips.
“Why do you have so many men? Is it only men or do you like to seduce women too? Is it possible you could find one man that might satisfy your senses? What happens when you are alone in your bed? Does any of this bring you peace?” The questions were all wrong, he should have been steering this in a completely different direction but he was curious, her life was the complete opposite of his and something about her compelled him to ask. Truth be told he didn’t want her to leave and yet somewhere deep down he wished she had never entered his church.
“Oh Father, I am a whore. I sell my body to the highest bidder, if you will. For a price any man can come and rub his cock against me. I am not cheap but this has never been about the money. For me, this is about me, about my pleasure. As for women, Father, I adore women. I love to kiss their lips, feel my breasts on theirs, kiss their pretty pussy’s, stick my tongue inside and taste them. One man – how could he satisfy these needs of mine? I have come close, of course but sooner or later I need to taste fresh meat. Alone in my bed, left to myself – that is when images will come back to me. What I have done that day or that night – I bring myself to orgasm. But that is not the worst of it…”
He licks the bead of sweat from his top lip before daring to ask, “What is the worst of it?” His cock aches, it is almost impossible to find a position that will give him comfort. He suddenly has an overwhelming urge to press his cock against the grate, spray his come on her pretty face. This is the worst of it, he thinks to himself.
“There are some that I dominate, I control their every move. The pleasure is something else – I will force them to wear panties, lead them around like dogs on a lead. I get so excited when they lick my boots, when they beg to eat my arsehole. It is what they want but what matters most is that I want it. And then, the sweet with the sour. The Dom will arrive and take me down – he will strip away my layers until all that is left is a whore begging for cock. All the while he slaps my pussy, the entire time he pinches my nipples all I can think of is one word. Do you know what that word is, Father?
She waits for a reply but instead all she can hear is his breathing, it is heavy and laboured.
“More. That is the word that comes to mind. Always, more.”
Without waiting for him to absolve her sins, she pulls her skirt down and leaves quickly. She has an hour before Eric the incredible is due…she needs to change.
Leaving the confessional, aching wet cock leaking – he needs to change.
A note to the reader:
Obviously, this is a work of fiction however the men and the experiences are all real. I hope not to offend but if you are offended by my use of a priest then perhaps this website is not for you. I have often wondered what it would be like to fuck a priest, it is probably the girly equivalent to men who fantasise about fucking a virgin. The reason I chose this setting is to explore the effect of my confessions on the innocent (or not so) reader in the form of the priest. I am not and have never been Catholic so although I could research the rituals, I won’t. It is not what this is about. Allessandra x
PS: This was written in 2009