I remember kneeling in that dim confessional booth, the air thick with old wood and incense. My heart was pounding from the drive over—skirt hiked up just enough to feel the leather seat stick to my thighs. I’m 27, and yeah, I’ve always been the girl who chases that rush, the kind where your skin tingles before anything even happens. But this? This was new. Father Elias, my priest since I was a teen, had texted me: « Come confess, child. The Lord’s paths are mysterious, but faith demands surrender. »
The screen between us creaked as I leaned in. « Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been… two weeks. »
His voice, deep and gravelly, like worn velvet. « Tell me everything, my dear. Unburden your soul. »
I hesitated, thighs pressing together, already wet from the anticipation. « I’ve been having these dreams. Filthy ones. About… being taken right here, in God’s house. Punished for my lust. »
Silence, then a low chuckle that sent shivers down my spine. « The devil tempts the faithful. Describe it. Let me guide you to purity. »
My breath hitched. « In the dream, you pull me into the altar room. Your hands on my neck, rough cassock scratching my skin. You bend me over the altar cloth—smells like wax and wine. And you… you fuck me raw, Father, whispering prayers while you do it. Telling me it’s to save my soul. »
The partition slid open with a soft scrape. There he was, mid-40s, eyes dark like sin itself, stubble shadowing his jaw. « Is that all? » he murmured, stepping close. His scent—musk and holy oil—hit me hard. « Or do you crave the real absolution? »
I nodded, mouth dry, nipples hardening under my thin blouse. « Please… make it real. »
He grabbed my wrist, pulled me into the sacristy. Door clicked shut. Candles flickered, casting shadows that danced like demons. « On your knees first, » he growled. « Worship properly. »
I dropped, knees hitting cold stone. His zipper rasped down—loud in the quiet. His cock sprang free, thick, veined, already leaking pre-cum that smelled salty-sharp. « Suck it like you mean your repentance, » he said, fisting my hair.
I did. Lips stretching around him, tongue swirling the head, tasting that bitter tang. He groaned, hips bucking. « That’s it… swallow your sins. » Gagging sounds filled the room, wet slurps echoing off stone walls. Saliva dripped down my chin, soaking my cleavage.
He yanked me up, spun me. Skirt flipped over my ass, panties ripped aside—fabric tearing with a sharp rip. « Look at you, drenched, » he hissed, fingers plunging into my pussy. Squish-squish, my juices coating his hand, the lewd sound making me moan. « This cunt weeps for salvation. »
Bent over the wooden table, crucifixes staring down. He thrust in—no warning. Stretched me wide, burning fullness. « Fuck… yes, » I gasped. Skin slapped skin, rhythmic thwacks. His balls smacked my clit with each pound, sweat dripping from his brow onto my back—hot, sticky.
« Recite the Act of Contrition, » he ordered, slowing to grind deep, pubic bone grinding my ass.
« Oh my God… » I whimpered, walls clenching. « I’m heartily sorry… »
« Faster, » he slapped my ass—sting blooming red. Pounded harder, table creaking. My tits bounced free, nipples scraping rough wood. Orgasm built, coiling tight. « Pray louder! »
I screamed it, cumming hard—gushing around him, pussy pulsing, thighs quivering. Wetness splashed his thighs. He pulled out, spun me again. « On the altar now. Spread for the Lord. »
Legs wide on the embroidered cloth, he climbed up, cock slamming back in missionary. Faces inches apart, his breath hot on my lips—beer and mint. « Feel faith fill you, » he grunted, pinching my nipples till I arched. I wrapped legs around him, heels digging his ass, urging deeper.
We rutted like animals—grunts, moans, the squelch of my soaked folds. His thrusts erratic, then he roared, flooding me. Cum hot and thick, spilling out as he kept pumping. I came again, nails raking his back, tasting salt on his neck.
We collapsed, panting. He kissed my forehead. « Your faith is renewed. But confess again soon. »
I left shaky-legged, panties gone, his seed trickling down my thigh. Best « prayer » ever.
(Word count: 628)