The New Priest

I was raised in a Catholic household. We didn't go to church every Sunday, but we were respected members of the parish community never the less. From an early age, I was taught to revere priests and nuns. But more than revere them, I came to fear and honor them. Priests especially, because they were my channel to God. For most girls my age, speaking to a famous rock star would send their heart into palpitations. It was the same for me with priests. I felt as though they were on a pedestal before me. They were holy and pure and I was obsessed with them. When I would look at boys my age I wondered how they would look in a priests robes; when I looked at priests, I wondered how they would look out of their robes.

Despite this, I hated confession. To bear my soul to these men with whom I was so obsessed seemed wrong. It seemed grotesque to tell them the dirty things I had done when they were so clean. Because of this, I only confessed the most common and mundane of sins. I kept everything else to myself, until I met a very different priest.

A few months before I left for college, one of the most respected priests in the church was offered a teaching position. This meant that he would leave and a new priest would take his place. Many people were excited about this; I was anything but. This priest had baptized me, he was the only priest who I would confess any sins to, and he was the subject of many of my wildest fantasies.

There was a mass the following week to meet the new priest, and, of course, my family attended. There was a sense of anticipation in the air as we entered the church and took our seats. The mass proceeded as usual until our beloved priest stood. "I have thoroughly enjoyed my time here," he told the congregation, "But now it is my pleasure to introduce you to the man who will be taking my place." Everyone started clapping before the new priest had even stood up. When he did stand, my breath caught in my throat. He was no more than 28 years old, tall, handsome, and absolutely stunning. He smiled brightly at the congregation. "Thank you for that warm welcome," he said in an incredibly sexy voice." "I'm Father Timothy Jacobs, but you can call me Father Tim." The congregation clapped again and Father Tim sat down.

That night, I laid awake in bed for a long time thinking about Father Tim. I could practically hear his silky voice and see his tall muscular body. I didn't want to let my hands wander. I wanted to try to keep my thoughts about him as pure as possible. But as with many other priests, my thoughts of him turned to thoughts of lust. I pictured him in his robes standing over me as I laid on the alter...

The church is totally empty. It is only he and I. He slowly, methodically removes my clothing; all the while placing light kisses on each newly exposed patch of skin. My body involuntarily rises to meet his lips. First my neck, then my breasts, my stomach, I tremble as he inches ever closer to my dripping pussy. He slowly removes my pants. As he pulls them down he kisses slowly down my legs carefully avoiding my pussy. "Please," I beg him. "Patience, my child," he whispers. His breath on my skin sends shivers through out my body. He kisses his way to my inner thigh and gently spreads my legs. He places more of his torturously gentle kisses on my thighs near my pussy, and then on my pussy lips. I thrust my hips to meet his mouth, but he refuses to indulge me. "Not yet," he whispers sending another shiver through me. He kisses around my pussy for what feels like an hour. I am careful not to move; I don't want him to think I'm impatient.

Suddenly his tongue is inside me. He licks up and down my folds and teases my clitoris with the tip of his tongue. I moan his name. I suppose this excites him, because now his tongue is deep inside my pussy, slipping in and out of my dripping hole. It doesn't take much of this to make me feel like I'm going to cum. I begin to tremble; he replaces his tongue with two fingers and his tongue flicks over my hardened clit. "Yes! I'm cumming!!" I scream into the empty church. He gently bites my clit as I cum and coat his hand with my juices. He moves up my body and kisses me deeply, letting me taste myself on his lips and tongue.

It is with this image and a satiated pussy that I finally am able to fall asleep. But only after I suck all of my juices from my fingers.

The following Wednesday, at around 5:00 in the evening, my family went to church for confession. We went every month on a Wednesday because less people were there. The rest of my family went to open confession, where you could look directly at the priest; I however preferred the closed confessionals. These are the ones with the screen in between you and the priest so that you can't really see the other person. I entered the tiny room and closed the door. As I sat down in the chair I made the sign of the cross. "Forgive me father for I have sinned. It's been one month since my last confession," I said. When the priest replied my heart leapt. It was Father Tim! "Unburden your soul upon me," he whispered. I shivered involuntarily.

I began as I usually would, confessing my mundane sins of the previous month. But soon I started to tell him more, a lot more. I confessed that I was no longer a virgin, something not even my closest friends were aware of. I heard myself telling him every detail of my sex life. As I finished telling him of my last sexual encounter (which involved my brother's best friend taking my anal virginity – but that's another story) I could feel a heavy silence fall between us. "Is there something else that troubles you, child?" he asked.

I nodded, knowing full well that he would not be able to see me do so. "Father, I have had impure thoughts about a holy man," I told him. I began to tell him of my fantasy a few nights before. I gave him every detail and finished by saying, "Father, the man in this fantasy was you." He made no reply. I squinted through the screen between us to see if I could tell from his expression how my confession had made him feel. I noticed he was resting his head on the wall with his eyes closed. Could my confession have put him to sleep!? I then noticed the expression on his face, and I could hear a slight rustling of his robes. He was masturbating! This knowledge made me bold. I decided to see if he would act on the desire he obviously felt.

I left my side of the confessional as quietly as possible, and went to his side. The door was unlocked, so I let myself in. As soon as I stepped inside, he pulled his hand out from under his robes and stood. "I... I just... it's just that..." he stammered. "It's your turn to confess something to me Father Tim," I said. "Did my confession turn you on?" He blushed a deep crimson. "Let me kiss it better," I whispered moving towards him. I knelt on the floor in front of him. "Forgive me Father, for I am about to sin," I said as I pulled his robes over my head. I ran my hand over the bulge of his pressed, black Dockers. He let out a soft moan. Using my teeth, I unbuttoned his pants and lower the zipper. They slid easily to the floor. I hooked my thumbs under the elastic waistband of his underwear and gently lowered them till they met the heap that was his pants on the floor.

I placed my hands on his ankles and slid them up to his hips. I then slowly moved my hand until they reached their goal. He was easily 8 inches, maybe 9. I wrapped both hands around his length and slowly began to stroke him. I could feel his hips thrusting in rhythm with my hands. I couldn't take the feel of him in my hands; I needed him inside of me. I licked the head of cock softly. At this, he made a sound that was not quite a gasp and not quite a moan. I swirled my tongue over his entire length giving generous attention to the head. Gently, I massaged his balls with my hands as I used my tongue to massage his cock. As I sucked his cock, I heard the sound of a zipper. He took off his robe, which I was hidden under. He placed his hands on the back of my head and began to stroke my hair. I began to run my tongue up and down his shaft feverishly, and each time I came up to the head I swirled my tongue over it.

His grip on my hair tightened and he began to fuck my mouth roughly. I nearly gagged on his cock the first few thrusts, but soon I grew used to his rhythm and was able to let his cock slide to the back of my throat. I kept my tongue moving constantly as he slammed his cock into my mouth over and over. His breathing became more rapid and I knew he was about to cum. He let out a low groan that was nearly a growl and forced his cock deep into my throat. I could feel his cock swell as what felt like gallons of his cum poured down my throat.

Slowly his grip on my head loosened and he stepped back, nearly falling into the chair behind him. I stood and walked over to him. He looked into my eyes with a mixed look of lust, confusion and shame. I gently kissed him on the mouth letting my tongue momentarily taste his lips. He said nothing as I stood to leave. But before I could reach the door, he had stood and grabbed my hand. "I won't say a word," I assured him. He looked relieved. And as I stepped out the door and into the rest of the church, I called over my shoulder to him, "Same time next month." He smiled.