In the dimly lit confessional, Martha’s heart raced as she heard the priest’s heavy breathing on the other side. Her long, brunette hair was a mess, cascading down her shoulders in wild waves, a result of their passionate encounter. She had come to the church seeking solace, but instead found herself overcome with desire for the man behind the screen.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Martha whispered, her voice trembling with need.
The priest’s response was a low growl. “What is your sin, my child?”
Martha hesitated for a moment, before confessing, “I have lusted after a man of the cloth.”
The priest’s breathing grew heavier, and Martha could almost picture the bulge in his robes. “Go on,” he urged.
“I couldn’t help myself, Father. Your voice, your words, they stirred something within me. I wanted you, I needed you.”
The priest made a sound, something between a groan and a chuckle. “And did you find what you were looking for, my child?”
Martha’s hand drifted down to her wetness, her fingers tracing the outline of her pussy through her fishnet stockings. “Yes, Father. I did.”
“Tell me more,” the priest demanded, his voice strained with desire.
“I reached out to you, through the screen. I could feel your hardness, your need. I pulled you closer, and you touched me, Father. You touched me in ways no man has before.”
The priest groaned again as Martha continued, “Your fingers, they were like magic, Father. They brought me to the brink of ecstasy, and then you entered me. You filled me up, Father. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”
Martha’s breath hitched as she recalled the feeling of the priest inside her, his thickness stretching her wide. She could still feel him, even now, as she touched herself.
“Did you cum, my child?” the priest asked, his voice hoarse with need.
“Yes, Father. I did. I came harder than I ever have before. And then you did too, Father. I could feel you, pulsing inside me, filling me up with your seed.”
The priest made a sound, a cross between a moan and a sigh. “And now, my child, what do you feel?”
Martha closed her eyes, her fingers still buried in her wetness. “I feel… complete, Father. Like I’ve found something I never knew I was missing.”
The priest’s breath hitched. “And what of your sins, my child? Have they been absolved?”
Martha smiled, her fingers still moving in slow circles. “Yes, Father. I believe they have.”
The priest made a sound, a soft chuckle. “Then go in peace, my child. And know that you are always welcome to return to me, should you feel the need.”
Martha left the confessional, her heart still racing, her body still tingling with pleasure. She knew that what she had done was wrong, but she couldn’t help the way she felt. She would return to the church, to the priest, again and again, seeking out the pleasure that only he could give her. And she knew that, in the end, she would be forgiven.
The end.
