Rebecca sat in a pew at the back of Saint Monica's Roman Catholic Church. The interior of the church was cool and dim, and mostly empty. No mass was in progress. A few other people were waiting to say confession or, like Rebecca, waiting for a family member. A rather timid looking middle aged man was sneaking covert glances at Rebecca from the other end of the pew. She was accustomed to this sort of thing. Rebecca was a stunning blonde in her late thirties, whose rather conservative Sunday clothes could not completely hide her remarkable physical attributes.
After bearing her only child at age twenty, Rebecca had begun a program of sensible eating and yoga to recover from the pregnancy and childbirth. She would probably have looked great even without the exercise. Just lucky genes—her mother was a looker, too. Still, the yoga kept her stomach mostly flat and tennis, which she took up later, gave her a nicely rounded butt. Genetics alone, though, accounted for Rebecca's most noticeable assets: her lovely blue eyes and her stupendous tits.
Huge, cantaloupe-sized jugs which her daughter Amanda had, in turn, inherited from Rebecca. Amanda, who until recently seemed to be the perfect teenager. Who, at this very moment, was in the confessional just across the aisle from where Rebecca sat. Oh, Amanda, thought the sexy mom again, closing her eyes in pain and frustration. How could this happen? What is going on in your head? Your whole life is ahead of you, don't ruin it now! Graduation is only two months away, then college...
And what had our young heroine done to cause her mother such anguish? It had started Friday night when Amanda came home very late from an evening of volunteer work at a local mental health facility. Her clothes were disheveled and she had appeared to be high on something. On Saturday Amanda went to the mall with her mother. She later called from the police station, where she had been taken after being caught having sex in the parking lot with some boys from her school. Just Amanda and five boys! Drugs and alcohol were involved. The last straw had been Amanda's behavior at the police station. While in a holding cell, the gorgeous brunette teenager had performed lesbian sex acts with a policewoman and two prostitutes. Or had acts performed on her. Or some such lewd craziness—Rebecca was unclear on the details. She knew only that her daughter had told investigators that she didn't want to press charges, she had participated willingly.
Before all this happened Amanda was too shy even to date. Rebecca had encouraged her daughter to go out more, have fun, live life. But Amanda was always a bit awkward socially, and very uncomfortable with her body. That incredible body, desired by every boy at her school, quite a few of the girls, and a sizable percentage of the teaching staff (male and female). Rebecca herself took no small pleasure in looking at her daughter in a bikini. Now what is that noise? Rebecca was distracted from her ruminations by certain...sounds from the direction of the confessional.
It can't be, thought Rebecca. It sounds like...like someone having sex. Just like the huffing and puffing and grunting sounds her husband made on the rare occasions when he had enough energy to fuck his beautiful wife. But it's impossible! We're in a church! Old Father Carrick is hearing Amanda's confession only ten feet away. Father Carrick, who was seventy if he was a day, had listened to Rebecca's confessions when she was a girl. His hair, what he had left of it, was completely white, and he had to walk with a cane most days because of his arthritis. But that sound! What else could it be? Wait...maybe the old padre is having a heart attack. Rebecca looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one was sitting nearby. The man at the other end of the pew was still sneaking looks, but he was too far away to hear anything.
That had to be it—Father Carrick was having a heart attack or a stroke, and Amanda was too terrified to act. The panting grew louder and faster. Rebecca didn't want to disturb the sanctity of the confessional, but she had to know. She rose and crept silently across the aisle, stopping just outside the door where she knew her daughter knelt in prayer. The noise definitely came from behind the priest's door and was becoming more urgent. The man might be dying in there! Why didn't Amanda run screaming for help? Rebecca had to do something. She decided to check on her daughter first. Slowly, she turned the heavy brass doorknob. It didn't make a sound. Then she eased the thick oak door open an inch or two so that she could peer inside. The old church was very well maintained—the door hinges were perfectly silent. Inside the confessional it was even darker than the interior of the church. When Rebecca could finally see properly she got the biggest shock of her life.
Amanda was on her knees all right, but she wasn't praying—not in any accepted Catholic sense of the word. In the first place, her daughter's white blouse was unbuttoned to the waist. The teenager's huge tits had spilled over the tops of her lacy white bra cups and the puffy roseate nipples were visible in the dim light. Amanda's near hand was thrust under her skirt and was working feverishly between her legs.
But the most shocking sight of all was the long, fat prick that thrust in and out of her daughter's open lips. Amanda's other hand was busy stroking the thick shaft in coordination with her bobbing head. Her eyes were closed and her mouth stretched wide. It was one of the largest cocks that Rebecca had ever seen, much larger than her husband's, and it protruded from an opening in the grill that separated the two sides of the confessional. Father Carrick was having his having his dick sucked right there in church by Rebecca's gorgeous eighteen-year-old daughter.
Rebecca was too stunned to move. She could only watch, appalled, as Amanda shifted her grip on the priest's big dick and slowly moved her face closer to the partition, forcing the oversized phallus down her throat. The effect was immediate. Father Carrick let out a roar as the sweet teen eased the big organ out of her throat and jerked it off into her mouth. The old priest must have been saving it up for quite a while because Amanda couldn't contain all his ejaculate. Cum dribbled from her lips and rolled down her chin and onto her tits. Rebecca could see her daughter's throat working as she tried to swallow as much of the tremendous load as possible.
The horrified mom uttered the first words that came into her head.
"Jesus H. Christ!"
***
Later, back in her bedroom, Amanda knew she was in deep trouble. She had sucked the dick of a priest who had administered to the spiritual needs of her family for many years. This gentle old man had married her parents and heard their confessions. He had presided over her own First Holy Communion and listened to her trifling sins since she was a little girl. And now he was about to be disgraced and defrocked—because of her. There must be something terribly wrong with her to cause reasonable men (and women!) to throw caution to the wind in order to satisfy their base desires with her.
Just a few days earlier, before the weekend's events, Amanda thought she was a freak because her breasts were so large compared to the rest of her slender body. Not only that, but her tits seemed to be more sensitive than those of other girls: the slightest manipulation, especially of her nipples, caused her to grow almost feverish with desire. It seemed to the distraught teen that her big boobs were at the root of all her problems. All sorts of people (even old priests!) wanted to see and touch her titties so badly that they would risk extreme public embarrassment. And now in the span of just three days she had done things that she never could have imagined before, and done them with people from all walks of life. As far as she knew none of them had ever done anything like this before; ergo, she was problem. She was worse than just a freak. It meant that she was either mentally ill or possessed by the devil. Either way, Amanda knew she was bad, bad, bad.
Nick and Rebecca were discussing the situation downstairs in his home office. Rebecca was trying to dissuade him from going, "down to Saint Monica's and smashing that old fuck's head against the wall."
"Don't you think that would only make things worse?" she argued. "Then you'd be in prison and Amanda's life would really be a mess."
"It's already a mess! Look at what's been done to her in the last few days! "That old priest is a dead motherfu--"
"Please! Just let the police handle it."
