It had been my experience that children, up to as old as 16 were intimidated in the confessional. Being more comfortable in the presence of a priest that talked to them and provided something to drink or a bit of candy put them at ease. Being children, they still were quite secretive about their naughtiness, and even more so once they found out that as their confessor, I did not get angry. I merely gave them a few prayers to say, occasionally instructing them to inform their parents (only in the worst cases) and sent them on their way. Most began to realize the sanctity and the confidentiality of the confessional around their 13th or 14th year. Then I would start to hear the real stuff.
Most of my flock that had started confessional this way would move to normal confessional around the ages of 15 or 16. A few who had grown accustomed to my presence preferred to keep confessional with me in my chambers. They were good kids who grew attached to me, and I to them. Tammy was one of them.
Tammy had just turned 19. I had been trying to get her to move to the confessional booths with no success. She came to me after my last Sunday sermon, as was her norm, to confess. I admitted her and after a brief familiar greeting, we began.
âForgive me, Father for I have sinnedâŠâ I waited for her to continue. Her green eyes sparkled at me from behind a curtain of dark red hair.
âI have had impure thoughts about my father.â This was new. Last week it had been Kevin Olsen in her graduating class.
âWhat kind of impure thoughts? Youâre a young lady; this is, to some degree, natural.â
âItâs ok to think about my father like that?â she asked.
âWell, letâs not get ahead of ourselves. It is natural for young women to look on their fathers as desirable mates and will often choose to marry men with many similar traits. But, tell me about these thoughts.â
âWell father, I saw him working in the yard trimming the bushes. He had his shirt off and was sweating. He was so strong looking. Watching him gave me butterflies in my stomach.â
I paused in thought as she continued. I knew her father and her home. They had no bushes to speak of. A few scraggily trees here and there, but no bushes. Who was she talking about?
She continued, â-and then I imagined him laying on top of me as we kissed. He was touching me, my breasts and my secret place.â I looked at her. She had lowered her head so as not to look me in the eyes directly, but I could see her eyes glancing furtively at me. My cock began to grow. Now, I may be a priest, but I am as subject to temptation and desires as the next man. I hadnât felt aroused like this in a few years.
I was considering her youthful beauty and the effect her descriptions were having on me, when it hit me. I was her father. Or should I say Father? I had been trimming the rose bushes in the garden yesterday and gotten quite sweaty in the midsummer heat.
She started again after the brief pause to determine whether I had recognized who she was talking about. I hoped I hadnât given anything away. âHis hands were in my blouse and I could feel them on my skin, and my dress was open. He was putting his hand in my panties. Father, I love him so much. I would willingly give myself to him.â
My penis was painfully erect and painfully visible in the front of my pants. My heart was pounding. âMy child, and incestuous relationship is not the sin everyone makes it out to be. The bible is replete with instances of it. Adam and Eve. How many daughters did they have? How many sons? Who did her children reproduce with? While this may be against the general teachings of the church, I believe that relations between consenting adults is permissible. You are an adult, so what you and your father do is your business.â I could find myself in a lot of hot water for saying that.
âOh, Father! Thank you!â she jumped up from where she was sitting and leaned over to hug me. Her hand rested on my cock. I embraced her, and voiced no objection to her minor trespass. I had never had a woman touch me with sexual intent before.
Her hand gently squeezed me. I sucked my breath in; surprised that she would be so bold. Slowly, she drew her head back until her face was just inches from mine. I looked into the bright green eyes set into her lovely face and marveled at the young beautyâs interest in me. I was fifteen years her senior and a priest to boot. If I let her continue, I could be defrocked.
Her hand tightened on my cock. She leaned forward and her lips touched mine. She kissed me. A soft, tender kiss, yet full of passion and desire. We parted and broke the kiss. âFather, I was speaking of you. I have loved you since I was eleven, and I will do anything to be yours.â
âTammy,â I answered unsteadily. I was intoxicated with her beauty and passion. âI am your priest, your confessor. I am married to the church. The Lord rules my life. I cannot be with you. There is no room for me in this situation as a servant of the Lord.â
She kissed me again, as though she knew I would say that. While her lips covered mine, her hands worked calmly and undid my trousers, pulling my aroused member from its hiding place. Once it was free, she broke the kiss and descended upon it, taking it into her mouth. I threw my head back. Such pleasure! Such infernal pleasure!
I was broken. That quickly. My willpower was astounding. This same willpower had stood me well through many fasts and temptations. But under direct assault from this angel, it collapsed like an old wood tenement in the Great Fire. My hands ran through her hair and caressed her face, the same face that was accepting a priestâs cock into her face. Her innocent eyes looked up at me from beneath her red bangs. I was not going to last like this. I had not relieved myself in several weeks (donât let the other priests fool you. We all administer to ourselves from time to time) and I was more than ready to shoot off.
Her red lips caressed the shaft of my cock as she slid up and down; her hand gripped the base and gently stroked me in sweet counterpoint to her amazing oral skills. Jesus, and I had first thought she was confessing about her daddy!
I came. My semen pulsed forth from the head of my penis into her waiting mouth. She swallowed as fast as it came. I donât know how long I came. I was too busy gasping for breath and wondering why I had become a priest to begin with. I slowly regained my composureâwell, as much as one can with a nineteen year old girl sucking on the head of ones penis. I looked at her. She pulled her mouth off me and looked up, directly into my eyes. I believe that she must have done it on purpose, but there was a small dollop of ejaculate at the corner of her mouth. She smiled at me sweetly and brought one hand up and scooped that dollop into her mouth.
My cock, which had deflated to half its measure, began to return to its glory. She looked down as it began to re-expand in her hand. She smiled. âFather, how can I be yours? How can I get you to make me cum?â
My mind raced. I knew she didnât care and would effectively rape me if I didnât find a way to make it seem ok to her. Not that I would put up a fight at this point. I was really casting about for a way to signal my acceptance. The proverbial light bulb came on.
âWicked child. You can never know peace and true pleasure until you give yourself to the Lord! You seek only personal gratification, you must give yourself up to His whim in order to be completed. As a slave of the Lord, you will find yourself compelled to serve Him in whatever capacity He deems necessary.â At first, it was too much. She wasnât following. Then, slowly, her face lit.