Confession (6)

Father Julian’s POV

Those pretty eyes were wide with fear, staring at me. I couldn’t help but think how beautiful she looked, even in this moment. The threat was looming just outside the door.

I pulled away from her at the last minute and threw my weight against the door. “You can’t come in, Father Thomas,” I answered in a strained voice.

There was a pause on the other end for a moment. “Are you okay in there, Father Julian?”

She leaned against the table, and with one sweep, pushed away all the holy items to one side. It should have made me flinch; it should have made me rebuke her out loud, but I didn’t. Instead, I stared at her with a hunger as she opened her legs, giving me a clear view of her pink petals opening up.

My throat was dry, and my manhood was stiff in my pants.

She bit on her lower lip as she slipped a finger in between her legs. From where I stood, I could see her glistening juices, telling me she was enjoying this as much as I was. One hand went to cup her breast, while the other slipped in and out of her wet folds, her thumb circling her clit.

I watched for a moment, getting lost in her eyes, in the movement of her hands, how she pinched her nipples hard, alternating between the two breasts, how she quivered when she touched herself. I watched her finger disappear inside of her. She bit harder on her lip to stop herself from moaning out loud.

“All is well, Father Thomas,” I answered in a controlled voice that shocked even me.

“Very well then, I’ll leave you to it.”

I didn’t wait to listen for his footfalls before I rushed toward her and slammed her back against the table, my tongue plunging into her soft mouth, tasting her.

She matched my urgency for her. Her hands roamed my whole body, evoking emotions and desires in places I didn’t know existed. She touched my shoulders, my chest, and then very swiftly, she undid my belt and zipper.

Meanwhile, I was a beast unleashed. I fondled her breasts just like you’d expect a man whose desires had been imprisoned for longer than he could remember. Her breasts filled my palm and spilled over. I tugged at her pale pink nipples, rubbing them in between my thumb and forefinger. I let my hands wander all over—her back, her slender waist, her soft ass…

I lifted her up and placed her on top of the table.

Her hands found the hem of my shirt, and soon I was naked in front of her like the day I was born, save for the white rosary around my neck.

She bit her lips as she sized me up. “I want you in my mouth,” she whispered, smacking her lips, her eyes swirling with mischief.

I wanted that too, but more than I wanted that, I wanted to be inside of her.

“Oh, you’ll get your turn, Candy. You’ll get your turn.”

I grabbed her thigh and pulled her forward, and without so much as a warning, I drove into her. The sensation was out of this world. I let out a deep grunt at the back of my throat.

Candy threw her head backward, her legs spread open in a way that should have been impossible as she let out muffled moans.

Waves of desire coursed through my whole body. I pulled all the way out and then thrust into her, up to my hilt. She moved her hips halfway to meet my strokes. Soon, I found a rhythm and began to thrust into her. The table rattled behind her, and so did the beads around my neck. My dick twitched, and I knew if I didn’t stop soon, I would come quicker. I pulled away…

“Daddy, why did you stop?” she asked in a soft whisper. “Do you not want a taste of this pussy anymore?”

I grabbed her in a chokehold and pulled her close. “Oh, Candy, you have no idea how much I desire you, do you?”

“Then show me,” she said, batting her lashes at me.

I helped her get down, then turned her around. I pinned her wrists up, this time tying them in place with my rosary. Something about the view of her naked, leaning against the table, her ass up in the air, legs spread open, with her hands bound by my own rosary—the same one I used to pray every morning—did something to me. Who was I kidding, thinking I could resist her?

Heck, I already wanted to cum just staring at her.

I thrust into her from behind, my hands sinking into her ass cheeks, leaving imprints on her supple skin.

I pounded into her. “You wanted to confess, Candy? Now you’re going to tell me everything. Tell me how it makes you feel that I’m fucking you right now…”

“Daddy,” she whimpered.

“No, no, you can’t be quiet now,” I replied. “I need you to be loud. I need you to moan for Daddy.” I reached in between her legs to rub her clit. She let out a loud cry of pleasure as soon as I touched her there. She was soaking wet; it was unbelievable. Her skin was hot against mine. The only sounds that filled the room were the sounds of our bodies and our soft moans.

“Yes, fuck me, daddy, please,” she gasped, her head hitting the wardrobe as I drove faster into her.

I didn't stop. I was silent, my nails digging into her skin, my movements rhythmic, fast, hard strokes. Nothing else mattered in that moment—just her, just the hot woman who had plagued my mind for weeks unending now.

She arched her back, spreading her legs even further apart, her hips moving backward to meet my strokes halfway.

At the end, I buried my face in her neck, my entire body shaking as I let out a strangled grunt. As she pulled away, the rosary cut from her hand, the beads pooling on the floor next to her discarded lingerie.

I wrapped my arms around her waist in the dark, the silver crucifix still watching us, maybe judging us. Neither of us said a word. Only the sounds of our heavy breathing could be heard in the church.

I don’t know how long we stayed trapped in the sacristy; I lost track of time as I was submerged into pleasure like I had never known all my life. Candy did suck me off. And oh, she was damn good at it. Her mouth was like a suction, drawing the very essence of life from me, and in no time, I came hard in her mouth, all of which she swallowed with a pleasant smile on her face, saying, “Thank you, daddy.”

We both left the sacristy separately. No conversation was had about what had happened, but we both knew things were about to be really different between us. Candy returned later that morning, dressed in an ankle-length skirt that did nothing to calm the tent in my pants. She sat at the back pew in church, an innocent look on her face.

I went to say mass with her scent still on my skin. I stood at the altar, broke bread with the same hands that had dug into her ass as I drove into her like a man driven by madness. I touched the rosary as I said a prayer, and flashes of images of our time together flooded my mind. Then I looked up at her. She had that same innocent smile on her face, the one she always had when she called me daddy. Her eyes, however, told a different story; I could see the tinge of mischief in those intense depths.

And for the first time, I wondered if I was even the mastermind of this.