The Confession of Grace Evans.
I took a deep breath as I pushed the doorbell of apartment number 15, and listened to the faint chimes fading to silence. Soon afterwards, the door was thrown open by a smiling mature lady saying, "Welcome, Father Michael, I'm so glad you could come."
"Well, thank you Grace." I replied, "But how could I resist your kind invitation?"
"Come in - come in," she said, gesturing towards the lounge as I entered.
I should explain that Grace was a member of my 'Ladies Circle' who invited me to visit them from time to time. She also had a fetish about clergymen, which is why I came dressed as a Priest, as requested in the written invitation she had sent me.
Before describing Grace Evans, I should perhaps, briefly tell you that my real name is Roger Cox. I am 34 years old, tall, dark haired and reasonably good-looking. I am fortunate to be in very good health, thanks to regular workouts at my local gym, and to my healthy diet regime that gives me lots of energy and stamina.
Grace Evans was the first member to join the small, and very discreet, group of mostly mature ladies, for whom I provided personal services. She was a widow in her late fifties, and was blessed with a face and figure that made her look 10 years younger. Standing 5 foot 6 inches in her stiletto heels, and with short grey hair, she had a lovely smile that lit up her face. She was a very attractive lady, who also happened to be a woman of substantial means.
Being just a little on the plump side, she had soft womanly curves, nicely emphasised by the short low-cut black dress that she wore. Her femininity was further enhanced by the seamed black stockings, and black patent leather high heeled shoes that completed her outfit. I was very aware of the sexual vibes she emitted as she led me to the lounge, vibes that made my cock twitch in my trousers.
"Would you like an aperitif Father Michael?" said Grace, as I made myself comfortable on the settee.
"Yes please, a sherry would be very welcome."
Grace fixed the drinks for us both, then settled herself on the armchair opposite me, revealing a lot of nylon-clad leg in the process.
"I have dinner simmering on the hob for us," she said. "So we have plenty of time to talk, and for you to hear my confession if you would?"
"But of course, my dear, you know that is why I am here."
We sat and talked for some time about the people we both knew and about how she came to join the select group that I mentioned. Grace was very easy to talk with, being the intelligent, articulate woman that she was. I happened to notice as we chatted, that she often crossed her legs, then slightly parted them again. Indeed, at one point, she accidentally raised the hem of her skirt so I could see her stocking tops.
Our conversation began to slow a little, so I suggested that perhaps now would be a good time to hear her confession, to which she agreed. She rose then to leave the room, and returned wearing a black lace shawl that covered her hair and reached to her shoulders. Grace then knelt on the cushion that I had laid on the floor, as I sat myself on a chair next to her. When ready, she began by reciting the confessional prayer, while I listened with my eyes closed.
Now I hardly need tell you that real priests are forbidden to divulge what is said in confession, but as I was merely pretending to be one, I can tell all. After confessing to some fairly mild 'sins', she got to a point where she seemed to have difficulty in expressing herself.
"Is there something else you wish to tell me my child?" I asked softly.
"Yes Father, there is," she mumbled almost inaudibly.
"What is it?" I gently enquired.
"Well - I miss the things that I used to do with my late husband, and it's on my mind all the time," she replied.
"Tell me all about that which is troubling you," I said, as I sat back in my chair.
"I'm embarrassed to tell you, but I greatly miss the adventurous sex life that we enjoyed together." she said shyly, with cheeks ablaze.
"What kind of things do you miss my child?" I prompted her.
She paused for a moment, then said, "Well, for example he would often encourage me to expose myself in front of others, and I miss the excitement I felt whenever I did that."
So saying she leaned forward so the top of her dress opened enough to give me a clear view of her breasts, almost to the nipples. By now, nature was taking it's course, and I was becoming very aware of the stirring of my cock within the confines of my black clerical trousers.
"In what manner, do you like to expose yourself?" I murmured.
