TABOO CRAVINGS: SHORT STEAMY STORIES OF LUST AND TEMPTATION

A married woman walks into the confessional filled with guilt and with the memories of all the men she allowed use her body. She spills every filthy detail, every c**k she begged to stay inside her, every time she touched herself after. The priest listens, then tells her forgiveness isn’t found in prayers. It’s in submission. It’s on her knees, spread wide, moaning as he drags every drop of sin out of her with his mouth, his fingers, his c**k. What starts as shame turns into ritual, a cleansing so raw she’s left begging to be ruined again and again, until she’s emptied of everything but moans and seed. ................................................................ Rita didn’t come to church because she suddenly found faith. She was here today because the guilt had been chewing her alive, every single day, until she could barely look at her husband without feeling her stomach twist and be full of shame. It was easier to avoid his eyes, easier to pull away when he reached for her in bed but even that made her feel sick. He didn’t know of her escapades. He had no idea and if he ever found out… God, she couldn’t even finish the thought. So here she was sitting in a wooden box that smelled like it was had not been properly cleaned always, her palms sweating against her knees trying not to throw up before she even got to opening her mouth. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned” she said her voice breaking halfway through. The shadow on the other side leaned closer. His voice was steady, too steady. “When was your last confession?” She laughed weakly though it sounded more like a choke. “Years a long time” “Then speak freely” he said. “Let it all out” Her chest felt like it was closing in. The words sat heavy on her tongue but if she didn’t say them now she never would. “I cheated on my husband” There was silence if a pin was thrown it could be heard. Just that word hanging there. She gripped her dress tighter, nails digging into the fabric. “It was not a one time thing. Not twice. More times than I can count. With men I shouldn’t have even given a much of a glance at. I let them touch me, I let them take me. I spread my legs for them like I didn’t even have a ring on my finger.” “The first time… it was with a man from work. My husband was on a trip. We stayed late in the office, and I let him touch me. I let him kiss me against the desk. I didn’t stop him when he pulled my skirt up. I spread my legs for him right there, and I let him f**k me until I was moaning so loud I was scared someone would hear.” Her face burned hot. Her thighs thighs pressed together in shame. Her eyes stung. Her thighs pressed tight together. “And it didn’t stop there Father” she whispered. “I went to bars and let strangers kiss me. I followed them into bathrooms when they asked me to. One of them bent me over the sink while people lined up outside, and I still spread for him. I came on him Father, like a w***e, and I didn’t even think about my husband until I went home and saw him sleeping” Her chest heaved. She rubbed her palms together like maybe she could scrub the dirt off her skin just by talking fast enough. “Sometimes it was at hotels, sometimes cars. One time a park bench” she said, her voice breaking again. “It didn’t matter where. It didn’t matter with who. I just wanted it. I wanted the heat, the weight, the way it made me forget myself and I begged for it. I begged strangers to use me like I was theirs” Her breath came hard and uneven. She wanted to stop but the guilt wouldn’t let her. Once it started spilling, she didn’t want to stop. “I’ve had two men at once. One in my mouth, one inside me. I let them finish wherever they wanted on me, in me and I liked it. I liked it every single time and then I went home and kissed my husband goodnight like nothing happened” Tears blurred her vision. She pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes but the words kept coming, ugly and loud.