Confessions Ch 01 2

"It has been a week since I was here last, and since my last visit, I have thought of you often, touching myself, feeling the wetness ooze out beneath my fingertips. I have certainly sinned, but nowhere near as much as I want to, Father."

It was a very deliberate, planned seduction. For years now, my husband and I had been challenging each other, and each challenge had gotten more difficult, more daring, and more covert, as we both worked in very public fields. For this reason, I had been driving across town weekly for the last six months to this confessional.

I was out to seduce a man of the cloth.

On my first visit, I confessed that I had been contemplating an extra-marital affair, emphasising the lack of sex and intimacy in my relationship. I explained that there had to be something wrong with me, as I wanted sex more often, and in different circumstances than my spouse. When he asked me what I meant, I had replied, "Well, Father, he is satisfied with twice a week, in bed. I want to be having sex daily, and have been thinking more and more of strange and odd places."

"Have you told your husband of these desires?"

"I have not told him of my desire to...have sex...in odd places, but I have tried to turn him on more. It does not work. He is tired. He has to be up early. The kids will hear us. There is always an excuse."

"You paused, prior to saying "have sex". Are you uncomfortable talking about it?"

"Not uncomfortable, per sé, Father...but I should not think what I think...it is not having sex, or making love...I think about being fucked, and I know that that is wrong." I had feigned shame, admitting that.

Over the months, I had ritually travelled to the same church, the same day, the same time...every week. A month ago, I had planted the seeds...I confessed, in tears, that my husband had been having an affair with his secretary, who is ten years my junior. Of course, it was a lie. How wicked, I felt, lying to seduce this innocent priest.

I had elaborated, telling him how I had discovered the affair, but that my spouse was unaware that I knew. I pulled from my purse a photograph of my husband, standing under the sunlight on a summer day in the middle of a parking lot, with the grocery store as a backdrop.

He wore shorts and a tee-shirt, and in the profile, you could see the young blonde on her knees at his feet, and could not miss the pert breasts grasped in his hands while her face pressed against the crotch of his shorts.

As I sobbed, I held the picture for the priest to see, telling my confessor that oral sex was something I wanted, but that my husband would not allow it, and he never would grasp my breasts with such vigour. The priest had tried to comfort by reminding me of forgiveness and my marital vows before God.

As I listened, I chuckled at the situation. Role-playing came in handy on that day!

Since that day, I had confessed that I kept the picture of the two of them, only because it turned me on. I began to confess the hottest of fantasies, in detail, to the poor man in black beside me.

For his part, I knew he had been pondering the idea, because rather than stop me to re-direct to the morals as he used to, he began to ask probing questions about how the fantasies made me feel.

Last week I had confessed to him that I had not had sex with my spouse since learning of his affair, and instead spent my time fantasising about other men; men that would allow me to suck their cocks in public or semi-public places, men that could not get "caught", men that were passionately taken by me, almost beyond their own control.

That is how I came to be seated in the confessional in a short skirt, no panties, and a thin blouse that accentuated my curves on this day...

"It has been a week since I was here last, and since my last visit, I have thought of you often, touching myself, feeling the wetness ooze out beneath my fingertips. I have certainly sinned, but nowhere near as much as I want to, Father." I laid my hands on my thighs, leaned my head back against the hard wood, closed my eyes, and spread my legs slightly as I sighed, waiting.

"You should not think of me, my child," he said softly.

"I know," I admitted to him while sliding my hand beneath my skirt. "It is very wicked for me to think of you while my fingers seek and create such wetness, but I have only been imagining myself on my knees before you, worshipping and pleasing you. Pleasuring a man of God cannot be a wicked thing, when it feels so good, and brings such heat and lust, can it?" As I spoke, my fingers passed slowly across my slit, already moist, and I watched as the priest's eyes followed my hand...

"I do not want you to do anything but watch, Father. Could you do that for me?"

Seconds ticked past as he thought and struggled with himself. A small, guttural groan told me he would before he spoke. "I will watch, my child, because it will bring some peace to you, and may help you move through this difficult time."

I knew he was excusing his actions more to himself than to me.

I stood, asking him if he could see well enough as I raised my skirt, displaying my shaved, bald pussy. I watched as he leaned his face to the small slats, angling for an unhindered view through the tiny carved holes. I imagined it would be similar to watching someone through the cracks in a fence, and was grateful that I was standing, as it hid my satisfied grin from his view. "Yes, my child, I can see you just fine," he whispered as he drank in the sight of my bald pussy.

I began to slowly rub my fingers over myself as I told him my fantasy of him.

"I am hidden in the pulpit during your sermon. You know that I am there, and have agreed to this experiment. I do not touch you, but there is always the possibility, the anticipation, the thrill of not knowing but expecting that first touch. You began the sermon quite well, and kept your composure throughout, even though as you looked down you could see my bare pussy being explored and hot juices leaking out between my lips."

As I say this, I move my pussy closer, spreading the lips... "Breathe that in, Father...smell what you do to me...Do you see the wetness and lust you create in me?"

I can hear his breath catch, becoming a quick, jagged rasp as he listens to me, feeling his body react to both my words and body. Looking down through the confessional's "window", I see his hand slowly rubbing against his pants. He is not clenching his cock, masturbating, but rather, just applying pressure. As I watched him, I realised I was getting horny. "Interesting," I think to myself...

I turned back to my fantasy, describing how throughout the sermon, I did not touch him, but instead touched myself in his view, in front of hundreds of parishioners.

"As the sermon was wrapping up, I placed my hand on your crotch, squeezing your cock gently, licking my lips. You left to see the parishioners out and home, finally returning to the pulpit with your cock slowly pulsing in anticipation of my hot, wet lips wrapped around it for the first time. Only, when you returned to the pulpit, I was already gone."

By this time, I am getting close, and am having a tougher time retaining my train of thought through the sensuous shockwaves pulsing through my body in time with my finger's quick action on my clit. I am still watching his hand rub his pants, and I am surprised that he has not pulled his cock out of its restraining clothes.

"Do you like this, Father?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"Yes, my child, I like this. We are both sinning, by doing this, and nobody can know. Do you like my eyes on you? I have never seen a naked woman before, and you are beautiful."

Never seen a naked woman before?!?! Oh, my lord! Not only was I attempting to seduce a man of God, I was attempting to seduce one that had not even played around as a teenager or young man!!

The thought of making him lose control had me cumming hard within seconds, and as my body pulsed rhythmically, I thrust my soaking pussy to his face, finally slowing, leaving my pussy throbbing merely an inch from his face. As my body relaxed, I spread my pussy lips with my fingers, showing him the wet hole, swollen with satisfaction.

I moved my finger to the wall, and slowly, quietly, asked him to taste me. His tongue slipped from between his lips, snaking toward my finger as I watched, moving my fingertip through the small opening in the ornate carved wood. A moan left his mouth as his tongue licked, savouring my flavour. I watched as his tongue circled his lips, and stretched towards my fingertip for another taste.

"Wait, Father," I cautioned, moving my sopping pussy towards the wall. His eyes followed my body as it approached him, and I heard the deep intake of breath, enjoying the scent as his tongue sought a way to taste more. It was difficult, but finally, I found a position that allowed the tip of his tongue to reach my wet flesh. After three slow flicks of his tongue, I moved away, straightening my skirt, covering my bare hot flesh.

I sank to the bench, playing the part of a remorseful, guilty woman. "I'm sorry, Father, I never meant for that to happen," I whispered in the silence.

"Don't be sorry, my child. It happened, and so it must be God's way of guiding you."

"Thank you, Father. I should go." With that, I stood, leaving the confessional.

I did not return for three weeks. It was all part of the plan.

**************************************************

When I stepped into the confessional on this day, I again wore no panties, and a skirt. I sat on the bench and began..."It has been some time since my last confession. I have not been here in three weeks...." I paused, waiting...

"Yes, my child, I know. I have waited for you for three weeks. And how are you today, my child?" As he spoke, I saw him straining to see me, and kept my face from his view.

"It is hot outside today, Father. I am hot and sticky." I slowly pulled the white tank top from my breasts, waving it to create a breeze against my sweaty breasts. His eyes watched the motion intently, and his arm moved in a manner that told me he was enjoying this coy flirt immensely. My nipples hardened at the knowledge, pressing lightly into the sheer cotton fabric. "You need air conditioned confessionals," I joked, watching his tongue circle his lips subconsciously as he focused on the nipples straining the fabric.

"My office is air-conditioned, if you would be more comfortable in there, my child," he offered lightly, casually.

"Definitely!" I quickly agreed, wiping the tank top down, wiping away the sweat between my tits. I stood, and opened the confessional door. As the priest exited, I could see the bulge in his pants that he tried to hide and ignore at the same time.

"This way," he offered, turning to walk briskly away. My heels clicked swiftly on the wooden floor, echoing through the empty halls. At his office door, he paused to allow me to enter before him, graciously holding the door. Inside, I stood and gazed around, taking in the details.

A desk took up one side of the office, with two sitting chairs and a small table on the other side of the room, beneath the windows. Two closed doors lined the opposite wall with bookshelves around them from floor to ceiling. I moved towards the windows, taking a seat. I demurely crossed my ankles, sighing at the coolness of the room.

"Yes, this is much more comfortable than the confessional today," I admitted.

"It is for me as well, my child. I wanted to talk to you about your last confession."

I reddened (yes, quite intentionally). "I was afraid of that." I said, looking at my knees.

"My child, I think that you need to confess more of your sins, your fantasies. It will help you through this difficult time. You cannot go three weeks between confessions. It is not good for your soul. I realise that your last confession was a bit...unorthodox, but let me ask you this: Did you feel better after confession?"

Still looking at my knees, I replied, "Yes, Father, I felt much better than I had in weeks."

"In that case, I would suggest that perhaps we set a time for a weekly confessional-perhaps daily, if you need it-and we can meet in my office for this. What do you think, my child?"

"I think that that might be beneficial to me, Father. I have had a difficult three weeks without my confession, and think that it may take me some time to confess my sinful thoughts and actions of the past few weeks. Do you have much time today?"

"I have all the time you need, my child. Do not worry about that. Now, why don't you get comfortable, and begin? I think if you start from your last confession, it will help."

"Okay." I relaxed back into the chair, letting my legs relax enough to part slightly at my knees.

"When I left here, Father, I went home and undressed in my bedroom. I lay on the bed, remembering your touch on my flesh." I closed my eyes, bringing back the memory of that afternoon. "I ran my hands over my body, imagining they were your hands. I felt the heat of the sunshine on my body, and wished it was the heat from your breath."

I allowed my knees to relax more, opening the gap between my thighs, and I moved my hand to my right breast, circling the nipple through the fabric lightly. I could feel the tension as the nipple became a hardened nub and strained further against the fabric. I opened my eyes just enough to look at my watcher, without being noticed.

His hands were gripping his thighs as he leaned in towards me, listening intently, but watching every move as well.

"What did you do next, my child?" he asked.

"I was so hot, so wet, so turned on, Father. I grabbed a toy, and put it on my clit, imagining that it was your tongue there again."

"A toy?" he asked calmly, although his body was anything but calm. His hand moved to his crotch, where his cock was straining against the fabric of his black slacks. His hand began to stroke softly as he leaned back, still watching intently.

"Yes, Father. When I left here, I needed to be fucked. I wanted to be. But I returned to an empty home. I have toys-vibrators, dildos, anal beads-to use when my husband says no. I started with a vibrator, placing it on my clit..."

My hand slid beneath my skirt, pushing it up my thighs. I repositioned, opening my thighs wide to give him the best view, and slid an index finger to my clit. "The vibrator was set on 'fast', because I was so horny."

My finger began to rub swiftly. "I have a dildo that I can use in any position...it has a suction cup on the end...and I placed it on the wall beside the bed, then turned to my hands and knees, and backed up onto it to ride it. It slid in easily, I was still so wet. I pretended it was you, Father, fucking me."

With those words, I saw his hand clench around his cock through the fabric, tugging roughly, matching the rhythm of my hand. "That is very naughty, my child," he scolded in a hoarse whisper.

"I know, Father. I am so ashamed of it, and of having you taste me, and having you watch me. But you make me feel very good."

"And you make me feel good, my child, letting me help you in this way." His hand reached out to caress my knee as he spoke. But when he was finished speaking, his hand remained. In fact, he suddenly moved to the floor between my legs, and quickly buried his head in my thighs, running his tongue all over my swollen pussy, tasting and lapping at me like a man starved. And in a way, I suppose that was what he had been, and perhaps the suddenness of his actions was merely to ensure his mind did not change.

As I watched his gray hair move between my thighs, I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensations. After a few minutes of lapping at my wetness, he paused and removed his lips from my flesh. I opened my eyes, looking down at him. This man, over twice my age, was slowly moving his hands from my hips, running one up and down the length of my thigh, while the other was tentatively brought to my pussy. I felt my lips being spread apart, feeling his finger probe me slightly, exploring slowly.

"You said during your last confession that you wanted me to watch you, and I did. What do you want now, my child?" he whispered tentatively, as though fearful of the answer, but at the same time, needing it.

I sat up, moving him back, off of me, and stood.

Then I slid to the floor beside him, reaching for his pants. "I want you to fuck me," I said bluntly while my hands worked to free his turgid pole. He gasped at my touch, when finally I revealed the layers and touched the bare skin beneath.

I gripped his cock lightly in my hand, running my hand up and down the entire shaft slowly. Every few strokes, I would "pop" my fingers over the mushroomed head, grasping tightly.

I was cautious, remembering that he had never seen a naked woman before and likely had never had one grasping his cock. I had no idea how long he would last, but I would be betting on "not very long"!

I replaced my hand with my mouth after some time, and began to suck ferociously on him, quickly taking his length into my throat. He gasped, moaned, and bucked beneath me, finally grasping my head in his hands as he bucked into my face, cumming quickly in my mouth.

Normally, I would swallow, but this time, I did not...I continued to suck on his softening rod with a mouthful of cum, feeling him convulsing beneath me. Finally, I slowed and stopped, removing my mouth from his tender flesh. I moved to undo his shirt, sliding it to his sides as it was unbuttoned. I climbed above him, positioning myself, and let his semen dribble from my lips, down my breasts, onto his chest. I raised his hands to my tits, massaging them beneath my hands, allowing him to feel his juices on my body.

I left his hands, roughly exploring the texture of my skin beneath his cum, and moved to lick his cum from his chest. Softly and slowly, my tongue licked his skin, tasting him again and again.

When I reached his nipple, surrounded with gray hair, I sucked and nibbled, feeling him begin to harden again beneath my spread thighs. I teased him with my mouth without stopping, concentrating on the hard shaft expanding between our bodies.

With one hand, I reached down, circling his cock with my fingers, squeezing tightly. I matched the suckling rhythm of my lips with the pace of my hand's thrusts, quickly speeding to a frenzy of teasing ministrations.

Twice, without a word, his hand moved to replace mine, trying to guide his cock inside my wet hole. Both times, I stopped and moved away with a "Father, we simply can't." He took the denials graciously, agreeing, apologising for the level of his desire. Each time, I continued, placing my hand back around his cock, sliding its length through the slippery folds, teasing the head against my went cunt, pressing down onto the head slightly as he shivered and convulsed beneath me, trying to press his hot, mushroom head deeper within me.

I allowed his head entry, and he'd begin to push his pelvis up, straining to delve into my depths. As he did so, each time, I moved my pussy away, allowing him to slip out gently, lubricating my hand with my juices as I continued to stroke and tease his swollen cock amidst guttural groans of frustration from him.

"You are quite a tease, my child," he said as I resumed the pressure, pounding my fist down his cock to his groin. "I think you will need to confess your sins daily to reach salvation," he panted, as I brought him close to the edge, feeling his cum pulsating into his cock beneath my hand.

"Oh, but Father, my sins are great. I think it may take long periods of confession to save my soul." I pounded down the length of him furiously as I nipped and sucked on his nipples.

He began to buck beneath me, and I knew he would soon shoot his load again. I stopped, and moved from him, crawling slowly over him, sliding my bare pussy past his mouth, his nose, and finally his eyes at a snail's pace. Once free of his body, I crawled towards his chair, with my tight ass in the air, teasing him, tempting him.