All of my life, except for the first eight years, has been devoted to serving 'holy mother church' starting as an altar boy and progressing through the ranks until I took my vows. I was very sheltered as a child, and was guided in this path by my very Irish, very Catholic, parents. I attended all boys schools, and, as a result, I became somewhat awkward in the presence of women. Don't get me wrong! I know that they are different, and I can carry on a conversation with a woman on nearly any subject, until it turns to sex. I would blush and excuse myself. Since I have no experience on the subject, how can I advise anyone regarding affairs of the heart, or of the loins.
Just recently, I was transferred to a suburban parish, taking over for an older priest, who had become sexually involved with a female parishioner. To avoid scandal, he was 'retired' and I was sent to fulfill his duties. It was late on a Saturday afternoon. I was giving confessions, but it had not been very busy, when I heard the gentle creak of the confessional door. As she entered, I could tell she was female by the rustling of her clothes as she sat. When I slid open the small doorway between us, I could see her hands clasped in her lap through the diaphanous material that separated her from her confessor.
As she started her confession, the same way hundreds of others have since I began hearing them many years ago, I was stricken by the sultriness of her voice, and the desperation! Most women, at least those who confess to 'impure thoughts', do not go into such detail as she did. I noticed her hands unclasp as she recounted her tale of the previous night.
As she told me about pulling the covers down and her nightgown up in preparation for her night of lust, the cool night air brushing her nipples to hardness, I saw her hands glide up her body, cupping her breasts through the fabric of her blouse, kneading them gently as she talked. I watched in total fascination, leaning closer to the covered doorway, partially to hear her better, partially to see where her hands went.
I saw her fingers roll the fabric of her top, gently pinching her nipples, feeling my own arousal as she moaned softly. I knew I should stop this, tell her to pray, to fight the evil within that was making her do this wanton act, but I could not! So I listened. And I watched!
As she continued to recount her tale, I noticed her hand leaving her breast and traveling slowly, sensually down, across her belly and thighs, almost to her knees. Then it disappeared under her skirt, fingers splayed, hiking it as they travel, enticing me with the agonizingly slow showing of firm, shapely legs.
I whisper gently, that "God will forgive your sins. He always does! It is his nature to do so, especially if you are contrite." I hoped she would stop, but to no avail! I watched intently as she slipped her hand inside her panties, tracing the lips of her vaginal opening. Then suddenly, her finger plunged deep inside, so the palm of her hand hid her sex. My eyes widened at the suddenness, the brazenness.
My cassock tented! My shame increased! I am her confessor! I should be counseling her against such behavior, stopping her recounting of the lascivious acts of the night before. But, no! I watched, and I listened intently as she invaded herself, pleasuring herself in the house of God, while expounding in lurid detail, what the two men she was entertaining did to her!
Her moans lengthened as she told me of how these two men, one black, one white, filled her "cunt and mouth with their thick hard cocks" pounding her cervix and the back of her throat until they erupted, leaving her wallowing in the sticky white cream of their loins. I found myself wanting to watch as she continued to abuse herself, and listen to the details of her debauchery!
Her hand pumped in and out, allowing me the quickest of peaks at her shaven mound. I don't recall ever seeing one before and I was fascinated by it. The shape, the size, the elasticity, but most of all the scent! She moaned as she inserted a second finger inside her wetness. I shifted my position to make more room for my swollen manhood, and to gain a better view. I saw her stretch out on the wooden seat, legs splayed, one hand inside her now open blouse, playing with her bra-less breast, the other plunging mercilessly in and out of her soaking wet womanhood. I knew that I needed to put a stop to this sacrilegious showcase, but I did not. I could not!
Almost involuntarily, I reached under my cassock, feeling the length, the hardness, the smoothness of my own cock, my thoughts now a thousand miles away from this place, wondering what it would be like, after all these years, to finally feel a woman take me in, and coax my seed for her pleasure. And mine!
Her back arched. She moaned louder, biting her lip. She relaxed both hands, but left them in place. Then, panting, she apologized, telling me she did not mean to do that that, bringing both of us back to this moment, this place. I replied gently, in as controlled a voice as I could, "It's all right, my dear. The pleasures of the flesh are a constant source of temptation. Your thoughts are forgiven."
It's a lie! I haven't had thoughts like these in many years, and the suddenness and intensity scared me. She continued to tell me of her depraved tryst with the two men, trading places, only this time the white man shoved his enormous cock into her ass, before spewing his seed. The details, along with the visual show she was putting on short-circuited my thought process. I forgot who I was, what I was, and where I was. All I could think of was the animal act of coupling with this young woman. I opened my door, peeked into the church, and finding it empty, I opened her door. She was still sprawled on the bench seat, her long auburn hair cascading down almost to her breasts, both hands busy, fingers plunging in and out of herself. I could see her leaking pussy through her hand. The bench is wet. I am horrified by the sacrilege, but fascinated at the same time.
I kneel down in front of her to pray for her lost soul, my eyes closed and my hands clasped together. Before I began, I felt her hand on the back of my head, pulling me toward her. I opened my eyes in time to see her smooth pink lips come in contact with my face. The scent emanating from her is overpowering, irresistible! I opened my mouth to question what she is doing. My tongue came in contact with the moist lips of her sex. The sweet saltiness of her short circuited my brain and before I had time to think, I tasted her!
"Lick me!" she throatily whispered. "Make me cum!"
My tongue delved in between the warm lips, gathering more of her juices and drinking her essence. When I finally realized what I was doing, I attempted pull away. Her firm grip on my head prevented me from losing contact with the smooth flesh of her pussy.
"Please Father. Don't stop!" She moaned as her hips ground into my face. She took my right hand and brought it up to her heaving breasts. They are exquisitely beautiful. Small but full. I cupped one in my hand. The intensity of the feeling is almost overwhelming! Her nipples nearly burn my palms! "Use your other hand, Father! Like I did" she coaxes, giving me little time to think, to stop!
My left hand reached under her buttocks, slid upward, to the entrance to her pussy. She pulled my head up slightly, making room for my hand at her entrance. There is a small pool of warm liquid on the bench and the smell of sex is thick in the confines of the confessional. My finger slid effortlessly inside her as she moaned encouragement. Her passage was warm, tight, wet. She eagerly opened her legs wider, allowing me to delve deeper inside. Lost in the moment, I recalled her pushing two fingers in and I followed suit, stretching her youthful body without giving it pain. Her moans grew louder now, filling the church. If there were anyone else there, they would know exactly what we were doing.
She let go of my head, allowing me to look up at her angelic face, distorted with lust. Her eyes caught mine. She smiled slightly. "I need you inside me, Father. Please touch me. Oh God, I want you to fuck me, Father. Now! Please?"
Totally lost in the moment, unable to process all the wild, new feelings that I was experiencing, I allowed her to raise my cassock, exposing my almost painful erection. I crawled up close, placing the tip of my cock against the slit of her pussy.
Unable to take my eyes off her I pushed in, watching as my cock spread her moist pink lips, then disappeared inside her, inch by agonizing inch, until my balls bumped her rump. One hand still on her breast, the other rubbing her engorged clit, I rocked back and forth, feeding myself to her, then taking it away, only to re-enter her heavenly womb.
Her moans of encouragement drown out the voice of reason. My celibacy was lost and I knew I was damned, but I didn't care! All I wanted was to spill my seed deep within her. Reason returned momentarily as my cock slid out of her velvet wetness, and I thought of stopping this madness, but then she said, " Oh God, yes! That's it, Father, fuck me! Deep! Hard!"
The struggle between my cock and my conscience ended with those words and the wanton smile that went with them. I pumped furiously as my fingers strummed her clit and nipple and we reached the peak of climax.
"Come inside me, Father!" she whispered, just as her orgasm hit.
I felt her muscles spasming, caressing my invading cock, pouring more of her essence on me. It had been many years since I experienced anything remotely like this this and it did not take much to bring me to the edge. With one final thrust, I buried the entire length of myself inside her still throbbing pussy. I grunted and spewed several jets of warm sperm deep in her cloying womb. "Oh God! Yes!" she hissed as she felt the warm wet liquid fill her up. I pulled out, my member soaked in the combined juices of our gloriously unholy act, and she panted, "Oh, Father, Thank you."
She lay there, breasts heaving, legs wide open, my sperm drooling from her ravaged cunt. Ashamed of my behavior, and without looking in her eyes, I stood, retreated to my cubicle. I could help but watch as she straightened her clothes, licking the evidence of our tryst from her fingers and before departing, asked my forgiveness. "That was your first time wasn't it Father? For What it's worth, it felt heavenly having you inside me. Will you forgive me for stealing your virginity?"
"It is I who should ask your forgiveness," I reply, as I retreat into prayer to the Holy Father, seeking his understanding for what I have just done.
"Are you hearing confessions next week, Father?" she asked, her voice regaining its innocence, momentarily.
"Yes, my dear." I replied.
"Good! I'll see you then!"