Story 2 :The Priest and the Couple

The confessional smelled of old wood, candle wax, and the faint metallic tang of the silver crucifix hanging above the screen.

Father Elias had heard a thousand sins in this box. None of them had ever made his cock this hard.

The soft click of the door on the other side told him they were both there.

“Bless me, Father, for we have sinned.”

It was the wife’s voice—low, smooth, already wet with something that had nothing to do with repentance. Her name was Vivian. Thirty-one. Dark hair, darker eyes. Her husband, Marcus, sat beside her in the narrow booth, silent, breathing too carefully.

Elias swallowed. “How long has it been since your last confession?”

“Four days,” Vivian answered. A soft, almost trembling laugh. “And we’ve been thinking about this one every single hour since.”

Elias’s hand tightened on the rosary in his lap. The beads dug into his palm. He was thirty-six, tall, dark-haired, and for the last three months he had watched them every Sunday from the pulpit—the way Marcus’s hand rested on the small of Vivian’s back, the way her thighs pressed together when she took communion, the way both of them looked at him a second too long when they left.

“Tell me your sin,” he said, voice rougher than he intended.

There was a long pause. Then the soft rustle of fabric.

“I touched myself last night while Marcus watched,” Vivian whispered. “I spread my legs on our bed and pushed three fingers inside my cunt while I imagined it was your cock. I came so hard I had to bite his shoulder so the neighbors wouldn’t hear.”

Marcus’s voice came next, low and strained. “I held her open. I watched her fuck herself thinking about you. And I came on her stomach while she was still shaking.”

Elias’s breath left him in a sharp exhale. His cock strained against the black fabric of his cassock, thick and already leaking.

“Continue,” he ordered, barely recognizing his own voice.

Vivian’s breathing had gone shallow. “We imagined you making us both kneel. Making Marcus watch while you used my mouth. Making me watch while you fucked him. We wanted it rough. We wanted you to take what you’ve been staring at every Sunday.”

The wooden divider between them suddenly felt paper-thin.

“Come to the other side,” Elias said.

Silence.

Then the soft click of their door opening. Footsteps. The door on his side opened a moment later.

They stepped in together.

The confessional was barely big enough for three. Vivian closed the door behind them. The lock slid into place with a quiet finality.

Elias stood. He didn’t speak. He simply reached out, fisted a hand in Vivian’s hair, and dragged her mouth to his.

The kiss was filthy from the first second—tongues, teeth, the wet sound of desperation. Marcus pressed in behind her, one hand already yanking her dress up to her waist. No panties. Her cunt was already slick, the lips flushed and glistening. Elias groaned at the sight and dropped to his knees in the cramped space.

The first long lick from her entrance to her clit made her cry out. He did it again, slower, tasting her properly—salt and heat and the unmistakable flavor of a woman who had been thinking about this for days. Behind her, Marcus’s hands cupped her breasts, thumbs rubbing slow circles over her nipples while Elias sucked her clit between his lips and pushed two thick fingers inside her without warning.

She came hard and sudden, cunt clamping down on his fingers, juices coating his chin. He didn’t stop until she was shaking.

Only then did he stand.

His cassock was already open. His cock sprang free—thick, heavy, the head shiny with precome. Vivian stared at it with open hunger. Marcus’s eyes were darker.

“On your knees,” Elias ordered. “Both of you.”

They dropped instantly. Vivian’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock first. She took him deep on the first try, throat relaxing, eyes watering as she forced herself farther down. Marcus leaned in beside her and licked along the thick shaft, tongue sliding over the places her mouth couldn’t reach. The wet, choking sounds they made while they shared him were the most unholy thing Elias had ever heard inside a church.

He let them work for a minute, then gripped Vivian’s hair and started fucking her mouth in short, controlled thrusts while Marcus sucked and licked the base. Spit ran down her chin. Her mascara smeared. She looked ruined and perfect.

When Elias pulled out, a thick string of saliva connected her lips to his cock.

He turned her around, shoved her against the wooden wall, and kicked her legs wider. Marcus moved in front of her, kissing her hard while Elias lined himself up and pushed into her cunt in one long, relentless stroke.

The sound she made was pure filth.

He didn’t give her time to adjust. He started thrusting hard and deep, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the tiny confessional. One hand gripped her hip hard enough to bruise. The other reached around to rub her clit in tight circles. Marcus’s hands stayed on her breasts, squeezing, rubbing her nipples between his fingers while he swallowed her moans.

“This is what you both wanted?” Elias growled against her ear. “Your priest’s cock stretching this greedy little cunt while your husband watches?”

“Yes—fuck—yes—”

Marcus’s voice was rough. “Harder. She can take it.”

Elias fucked her harder. The angle changed and the head of his cock dragged over that perfect spot inside her with every stroke. Vivian’s legs shook. She came with a sharp cry, walls fluttering and squeezing around him. Elias didn’t slow down. He kept fucking her through it, chasing his own release. When it hit, it was brutal. He buried himself to the hilt and unloaded deep, pulsing thick ropes of cum into her until it started leaking out around his cock.

He stayed inside her for a long moment, breathing hard, forehead pressed to the back of her neck.

When he finally pulled out, a thick trickle of his release slid down her inner thigh. Marcus caught it with two fingers and pushed it back inside her, slow and deliberate, while Elias watched.

Vivian turned, eyes glassy, lips swollen. Marcus looked at Elias like he wanted to drop to his knees again.

Elias fixed his cassock with steady hands, then reached up and straightened the stole around his neck.

“Your penance,” he said, voice low, “is to come back tomorrow night. Both of you. And this time… Marcus goes first.”

Vivian smiled, slow and filthy.

Marcus’s throat worked as he swallowed.

“Yes, Father.”