In the dimly lit confessional, the church’s weekly sinner, a brunette with messy hair and a penchant for fishnet stockings, knelt before the priest. Her long hair cascaded down her back, her eyes wide and innocent.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” she whispered, her voice husky and seductive.
The priest, a man of God but also a man of flesh and blood, felt a stirring in his loins. He had longed for this woman since she first stepped into the confessional weeks ago.
“Tell me your sins, my child,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
She hesitated for a moment, her chest heaving with anticipation. “I have been thinking impure thoughts, Father. Thoughts of you and I…”
The priest swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “Go on,” he urged, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I want to feel your body against mine, Father. I want to taste your lips, your skin. I want to feel your hands on my body, exploring every inch of me.”
The priest couldn’t resist any longer. He stepped out of the confessional, his robe falling open to reveal his naked body. The woman gasped, her eyes widening with desire.
“Do you still want me, my child?” he asked, his voice trembling with need.
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “Yes, Father. I want you.”
He pulled her to her feet, his hands roaming over her curves. He kissed her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth. She moaned, her body melting against his.
He reached up, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her head back. He trailed kisses down her neck, nibbling and licking as he went. She shivered, her breath hitching in her throat.
He reached down, his fingers tracing the outline of her stockings. He slid his hand up her thigh, his fingers finding her wet and ready for him. She moaned, her hips bucking against his hand.
He slipped a finger inside her, his thumb rubbing her clit. She cried out, her body trembling with pleasure. He added a second finger, thrusting deeper and harder.
She reached down, her fingers wrapping around his cock. She stroked him, her grip tightening as she moved her hand up and down. He groaned, his hips thrusting in time with her movements.
He pulled his fingers out of her, his cock throbbing with need. He guided her to the floor, his body covering hers. She spread her legs, her hips lifting to meet his.
He entered her, his cock sliding in easily. She cried out, her fingers digging into his back. He thrust deeper, harder, his balls slapping against her ass.
She moaned, her head thrown back. “Yes, Father. Yes.”
He reached down, his fingers finding her clit again. He rubbed her, his fingers moving in time with his thrusts. She cried out, her orgasm ripping through her.
He followed her, his cock twitching as he filled her with his cum. He collapsed on top of her, his heart pounding in his chest.
They lay there for a moment, their bodies entwined. And then she spoke.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” she whispered, her voice filled with satisfaction.
He chuckled, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. “And I have sinned with you, my child. But I think God will forgive us both.”
They dressed, their bodies sated and their souls at peace. As she left the confessional, the priest watched her go, his heart filled with longing.
He knew he would see her again next week, and he couldn’t wait.
