***all parties are over 18 years old and are fully consenting***
I had been at my private all-girls Catholic high school since 9th grade. I was over 18 now - I knew all of the students, all of the teachers... I knew the rules and how to function as part of the school unit. Then one day, a new teacher, Father Ash, started. He was tall and lean, with an athlete's body and a chiseled face. His dark hair sat piled on top of his head with a single curl that somehow dropped to the center of his forehead. His blue eyes held a world of passion and his lips would turn up in a smirk every now and then when he was teaching.
I was pretty invisible compared to the other girls in the school. Plain brown hair, brown eyes, curvy figure, and short stature. I was pretty basic and I liked it that way. No one really looked at me or gave me any attention. Until Father Ash.
He would corner me in the halls to talk about my homework or somehow sit one row behind me in mass. He seemed to be everywhere I looked; not that I minded. Every lock of his eyes made a heat form in my belly.
At night I would finger my pussy to the thought of him eating me out, rubbing my clit until I came, or forcing me down to my knees to suck his hard cock until he came in my mouth. But I knew he took a vow of celibacy. He wouldn't break it for anything, let alone a Plain Jane he seemed to always be within earshot of.
One day at confession, I slipped inside the box and made the form of a cross over my heart.
"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."
"What is your confession?" the voice from the other side of the box said.
When I heard the voice of Father Ash. I cleared my throat.
"I, umm... I've been having impure thoughts. About someone at school."
"I see. And what do you do when you have these impure thoughts?"
"I... I touch myself, Father."
I heard a shifting in his seat. "How do you do it?"
"Well, I use my fingers to rub my clit."
A belt buckle was undone and a sigh came from Father Ash.
"And then what?"
I swallowed. "Then I take two fingers and put them inside of me and pump them in and out. But they're barely long enough to reach my g-spot so I have to use my hairbrush sometimes."
I heard slow strokes coming from the other side of the booth.
Oh my god, was he masturbating to the image of me getting off? That thought alone made my pussy flood.
"Keep going," he grunted as the movements became faster.
"Then I shove my hairbrush in and out of me so quickly that my eyes roll to the back of my head and my back arches off the bed as I come. Sometimes I've even squirted and soaked my blanket."
