SMUTTY DESIRES: 69 Shades Of Temptations

FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR WE HAVE SINNED

I put my palm over her mouth, so she wouldn't make any sound. In the suffocating darkness of the booth, my heart was beating violently against my ribs like a trapped animal. She froze against me, her eyes wide in the dark, her breasts heaving against my chest as she clutched the fabric of my robes.

Father Benedict’s shoes squeaked against the marble aisle, every step me took made my heart race. What should I do? I need to think of something.

The door to the other side of the confessional booth creaked open as he stepped in, he was less than five feet away from finding me in this compromising position. I could hear his heavy breathing. If he reached out and pulled my door open, my life, my calling, and my soul would be laid bare in the worst way possible.

"Father Cole?" Benedict called out again, his voice echoing right outside the wooden frame.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my voice to sound as flat as possible. "I'm in here, Father Benedict," I called out, my hand still tight over her mouth.

I could feel her hot breath and the curve of her lips stretching into a smile against my palm. She was enjoying this. "Just... finishing up my evening prayers before locking the side gate."

There was a long pause. "Ah, I see," Father Benedict’s voice finally replied. "Don't stay up too late, son. The storm is getting worse, and you've been looking exhausted lately."

“I'll wrap up in a few minutes and be on my way.” I replied.

“Alright, Goodnight.” He said as he turned around and opened the door.

"Goodnight, Father," I managed to choke out.

We remained perfectly still, listening to the step of his shoes fading down the aisle, followed by the heavy thud of the main church doors clicking shut. We stayed still for a few moments to be sure the cost was clear.

The moment I took my hand off her mouth, she let out a soft, breathless laugh. "That was close, Father," she whispered, her fingers instantly going back to my collar. “Now, we have unfinished business.”

Something inside me snapped completely. The days of fasting, the hours of kneeling on hard stone, the desperate prayers for deliverance, they all burned to absolute ash. The adrenaline of almost getting caught, mixed with the intoxicating scent of her perfume, drove me completely past the point of sanity.

I didn't order her to leave or recite scripture. I gripped her hips, lifting her up slightly on the narrow leather cushion, and tore my collar completely off.

Every sense of discipline left my body immediately, her lips down against mine. I fisted my hands into the fabric of her dress, pulling it up over her hips as she let out a gasp against my mouth.

There was no gentleness left in me, no holy grace, only a starving need that had been building up for weeks. Her hands worked frantically against my vestments, tugging the heavy fabric of my cassock up over my waist, leaving me exposed in only my trousers. I could hear the sharp metallic clink of her fingers working my belt buckle, undoing it in a rush.

The cool, chilly air of the church against my skin sent a shiver through me as she pulled me free from my underwear. She didn't waste a single second, dropping straight down onto her knees in the cramped space and diving headfirst onto me.

I fisted my hands into her hair, anchoring her movements, but she didn't need any help. She was a complete pro at what she was doing.

The wet sound of her mouth against my skin and my ragged breaths echoed loudly through the enclosed booth, completely drowned out by the pouring rain outside. She sucked me whole, taking every inch of me until I thought I’d lose my mind, before pulling back to the top and swirling her tongue slowly around the tip. I tipped my head back against the hard wooden wall of the booth, letting out a deep groan.

I could feel the heavy buildup rising straight from my balls, a white-hot pressure coiling tightly in my gut. I was right on the edge, the pleasure was so intense, I could barely keep it in.

"F-f**k," I choked out, my hips stuttering forward on their own as the coiling pressure in my gut snapped.

She didn't back down. Sensing the shift, she picked up the pace, her throat swallowing me deep as she sucked through the frantic tension of my climax. I gripped her hair tighter, my head pressed hard against the wooden booth as I came heavily right down her throat. Every single drop of my holy vows, restraint, and my sanity poured out into her mouth.

A low groan vibrated from my chest, as my body shuddered against the wall. She took every bit of it, her hands gripping my thighs to keep me steady until my erratic breathing finally began to slow down. When she finally pulled back, a soft, wet sound echoed in the quiet booth as she came up and straddled me again.

Before I opened my eyes her lips came down on mine again and I could taste myself on her soft lips. I don't know what it was about this moment but it felt less like a sin and more like a twisted kind of worship, a dark communion I never wanted to end.

My chest heaved when she pulled away as she stared at me with triumph shining in her dark eyes, her hands around my neck. The heavy weight of my complete damnation crashing down on me like a tidal wave.

"Thank you for the penance, Father Cole," she whispered, "I'll see you at Sunday Mass." She purred as she dropped one last peck on my lips.

Before I could even find my breath to speak, she stood up casually wiping her bottom lip with the back of her hand, looking down at me with a triumphant smile.

The side door of the booth clicked open as she stepped out into the drizzling rain, and the door clicked shut leaving me completely alone in the dark.