The Ultimate Confession

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.."

'Father David' had heard it, time and time, again. Theft. Lusting for another man's wife. Violence. Impurity. Cheating on taxes. Cheating on girlfriends. Cheating on boyfriends.

He hadn't been an ordained priest for a year, yet, and still the list kept growing.

He still wasn't sure if this was what he wanted to do, with his life. He was young, (only twenty-eight,) blonde-haired, green-eyed. He kept his perpetually slender body in shape by jogging, six days a week, as well as stretching exercises. He knew that vanity was a sin, but so, too, was the body a temple. Why not keep it in shape, *and* looking good? Not that anybody looked at priests, anymore...no doubt from the fall-out due to the Catholic 'scandal'.

It was early, early in the morning, and, as was his habit, he was wandering the main worship-hall of the small church he and a couple of others had been put in charge of; an average church for an average flock. Dimming half of the candles, he smiled to himself in the semi-darkness...there was something almost sensuous about the play of light and shadow, flickering around the pews, the altar, casting phantoms up on the pipes of the organ that belted its early-morning welcome on Sundays. Shaking his head in an attempt to clean them of such 'wrong' thoughts, he made his way into the small confessional booth towards the back, to try and repress the feeling of being overwhelmed by the vaulted ceilings, the stained glass, the archaically designed walls.

Settling into the seat he took whenever the men and women of his congregation, he tipped his chin into his hands, closing his eyes...and then he heard it. Directly opposite him, behind the screen and black blinder, there was a...sound. A rustling sound., like fabric was being moved. He had no idea as to who could be sitting in his confessional booth well after midnight....he kept the doors of the church unlocked if any of the homeless off of the street needed warmth and shelter in the colder months, or there were parishoners seeking council outside of their sleeping hours....but he hadn't heard anybody come in.

Dropping down and peering through a gap between the thick fabric and the dividing screen, he couldn't believe what he saw:

A young woman...she had to be twenty-one, at most...was settled back into a corner of the booth. The fact that she was a Catholic student was obvious by her skirt and blouse, but what really caught his eye was the fact that her skirt was bunched up to her hips, and if she had any underwear on beforehand, she didn't, now. Her slender hands were glistening, her legs spread wantonly, head dropped down so that all he saw of her face was a peek of a jaw or a chin through an auburn-streaked mane. He was pretty sure that she couldn't see him, what with the hair in the way, the eyes seemingly closed...God, she was totally lost in this! Swallowing thickly a couple of times, he was pretty sure that he should say something...this was wrong on so many levels...but he couldn't deny the enjoyment, the sheer pleasure he got from watching her, listening to her...Jesus, even *smelling* her. It was thick in the air, and he had no idea as to why he hadn't first smelled it when he got into the booth.

Feeling a painful throb between his thighs, he glanced down...God, this was really affecting him!...he had to do something about it. Keeping his eye up to the peep-hole, he dropped his hands down to his robe, parting the material, and shakily reaching into his khaki slacks, underneath his briefs. The voice in his head, the one that kept yelling for him to stop, to do something, to get out of there was quickly drowned out by her mewls, her gasps...and his own, heavy breathing. Tugging his pants and underwear down, he didn't bother covering up with the thick material of his robe, stroking, lightly. Whispered, whispered coaxings went along with her motions, his jaw clenching as he watched sweat break out on her body, her entire form shaking. Quivering.

'That's it...' It was barely a whisper past his lips, maybe a trick of the draft, maybe somehow she heard him...because right before she hit her peak, her head jerked back, eyes opened...and she saw a shadow blocking the dim, dim light of the booth. Instead of stopping, though, it was too late...she went over the edge, gasping, clawing at the cushions of the booth in the throes of one *hell* of an orgasm. David didn't realize this, as his own head had gone down, his eyes, too, closing as he unconsciously rocked his hips into the motions of his hand. Maybe that was part of the problem....this was all he could do to relieve his pressure, and even *that* wasn't supposed to be done.

While he hadn't realized she saw him in the middle of her own orgasm, he quickly realized something was amiss when he heard her move...and then the door to his own side flew open. "I *thought* I heard somebody.." It was sultry, smoky..and definitely female. That quiet exclamation was followed by an even more excited.."...a priest!" He didn't even have a chance to really move before she had come into his side of the confessional, pulling the door shut, behind her. His hands were moved away, and then his robe was pushed out of the way, his pants and underwear were pulled firmly...and before you could say 'Hail Mary!' he felt the tight, wet heat of her mouth surrounding his throbbing shaft.

"God...N--..." He could barely speak, the auburn-haired student bobbing her head like an expert, swallowing his entire length, moaning as she did so. He was struck speechless by the sheer sensation, the feelings that she was pulling from him with each nip, and sloppy kiss. His hands, which had so recently been doing what she was now doing with her mouth went to her shoulders, perhaps to push her away...but the next thing he knew, they were fisting in her hair, pulling her more sharply. He couldn't stop himself, and she moaned her appreciation, in turn. She was growling, gasping around his shaft, especially when his hips starting raising, sharply....He had been caught, watching her play with herself, so what was a blowjob in the grand scheme of things? He hadn't always been a priest...he was a young man...he was...God...he....he was about to come. Suddenly jerking his hips back and away, he half-bowed over her head, looking (except for the pants down and the robe parted wide,) like he was about to give her a benediction. In a way, he was...

"...You...I...You have to stop..." Finally, he got it out. His hands were on his knees, his eyes were closed...and instead of answering, the young woman reached out, cupping his scrotum in her hand.

"I had no idea you priests were hung, like this....well, I shouldn't be surprised...you don't get to have sex, after all..." ..and this was the whole of her reply. Any sort of protest David could've come up with was cut off with--"Look. I caught you watching me....You liked it." A squeeze, there, that almost brought him to his knees. "...I didn't plan on this...hell, I didn't even mean to come into this church...but I had to get warm, and the booth seemed private enough." She glanced around, and let out a wicked, little laugh..."...and it looks like I was right. Now, we have a situation, here..." She began working both hands up and down his cock, thumbs sweeping the undersides and squeezing, now and again. "...and I mean to take advantage of it. Unless you want your parishoners to know you were beating off to watching a horny Catholic girl play with herself...David."

Now he knew who she was. One of his fellow priests, about fifteen years his senior...*and* the final word in the church...had a niece, who, he had heard, was due back into town, and, apparantly, she'd gotten in, early. "Cheryl.." She smiled at that one, full lips, hazel eyes, and a wicked glint...and without a word, she twisted around in the booth, her back to him, half-sitting on his lap...and he could feel the head of his cock nestled between her ass-cheeks. "Cheryl..."

It was hoarser, now, that name, a desperate whisper. A plea. For her to stop?...or not to? She didn't seem to care, he couldn't stop her...and she began pushing herself down and back, forcing him deeper. Little grunts, little sounds escaped from the back of her throat, the deeper he went, going from whimpers and mewls to full-throated gasps, and desperate catches for breath. She reached back with one hand, fingertips trailing over what was left of his length that hadn't been buried up her backside...and her other hand reached back, pressing fingers to his mouth.

Finally she settled all the way down onto him, and by leaning forward, forced him to half-stand, half-crouch in the small booth. Reaching up, she placed both of her hands on the edge of the dividing-screen and started rocking herself back against him, sobbing a little bit each time she did it. He couldn't help but move with her, at that point...he was lost. And he didn't care. What had been protests before became encouragement, growling words he'd only heard, growing up, hands that had been trying to push her away from him turned to firm grips, on her ass.

Before he even knew what was really going on, she was rocking back and forth, violently, the sounds of his thighs hitting the backs of her's filling up the place, ringing in his ears...the smell of her sex, practically running down the insides of her thighs, filled his head...and, bowing his head, he start driving violently into her.

"F--...F--....F--...Fuck!" She finally managed to get it out, eyes popping wide when he *really* began moving into her. She hadn't expected that, trying to position herself that he wasn't at such an angle...but when she started to turn, his hands tightened at her hips, painfully so. Glancing over a shoulder, she gaped a little bit at the expression on his face...jaws clenched, teeth bare in a snarl, such a sharp contrast over the white collar of his station. When he went from sharp, fast thrusts to longer, slower, driving ones, she could only put her *own* head down, moaning.."Fuck me, Father...Fuck me, Father...Fuck me, Father..." right in time with his hips.

When he began picking up the pace again, though, it was shortened to "Fuck me..Fuck me.." and then, simply, to "Fuck...Fuck!..Fuck!" Something had been pushed over the edge, there, and after what seemed like an eternity...maybe it was the words spilling out of her mouth, the wanton profanity...maybe it was the whole situation, with her hot, tight ass clenching his cock like a needy fist....maybe it was just the picture of her, plaid skirt past her ass, the way he could see his hand-prints when he shifted his hands...but he exploded inside of her, shooting off with a strangled, gaping moan. Still pumping in the aftershocks, he finally pulled himself out of her with an audible 'pop' of sound. When they were both done shuddering, gasping in the warmth of the confined room, she finally managed to gasp out..."...God...we've got to do that, again..." Pushing herself up to her feet, she wiggled her skirt down, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. "...I'll be back for confession, later today...we could even make some up..." And then she was gone, the smell of her sex still heavy.

David wasn't sure what had happened, where it had come from, or where it was going...with a satisfied smile, of sorts, he tried a couple of times to arrange everything in a relatively presentable fashion, and then gave up. Wherever it was going, though...it was fine, with him. Besides, he was starting to come up with ideas, for when she came back...He hadn't been sure what he had wanted to do with his life, beforehand...but if this was a perk of being a priest in *this* church, then Amen.

Maybe behind the altar, next time.....