LOGINThe next day I sat in the confessional waiting for him wearing a short skirt with no panties. I brought the lube like he’d asked. The anticipation of what he planned to do to me had me rubbing my thighs together. Again, for the fourth day in a row I was wet. I couldn’t help myself. Father Michaels had done things to me no man had ever done. Touched me in ways no other man had ever touched me. And commanded me in ways no other man commanded me. I liked it. I wanted it. I needed it.He arrived a few minutes early. Parishioners would start arriving at two and it was one forty-five. He pulled his cock out immediately, letting me suck him. As I massaged his ball sack and had his cock deep in my throat the first parishioner came in for confession. I heard the door on the other side of the booth open and close and then the man’s voice. A rush of excitement ran through me and I savored each suck, lick, and caress, knowing Father Michaels would have to use real finesse to hear confession while
It was November, just after my mother died from cancer, that I began attending the church again. That’s when my obsession started. Even though I knew it was wrong, I couldn’t help but have the fantasies about the young priest who presided over the church. I’d always liked Father Michaels. He was in his mid-thirties, about five-foot-eleven with dark hair and gray eyes. Even though I never caught a glimpse of him out of his priestly garb, I always imagined that beneath the black robes and priestly vestments that he had strong arms and a rock hard chest. Yeah, I admit it, I have a great imagination. I even began helping out with some of the luncheons and church activities just so I could be closer to him. Sometimes I’d have to leave him notes saying we’d gotten the newsletter out, or that the church member database had been updated. I’d always sign them, Sincerely, Megan. Yeah, it was a bit formal, but it seemed appropriate since I’d only politely shared in small talk with Father Michael
I wore a deep scoop neck blouse that showed off my cleavage along with a long black skirt to the church the next day. Beneath my skirt I decided on a pair of sheer white thong panties with matching bra. For some reason dressing in sexy underwear under my clothes always made me feel better about myself. It made me feel more feminine and more desirable, which was something I hadn’t felt since I was dumped by my jerk of an ex. Much to my own chagrin, the panties were already moist with my arousal when I arrived. I’d thought about Father Michaels on the way to the church. I thought about his high cheekbones, his smile, his kind eyes and his deep voice. There was just something about him that sent me ablaze with passion.Father Michaels, dressed in plain black slacks and black shirt with white collar, was on the phone when I entered his office. I closed the door behind me and removed my coat, hanging it on the coat rack next to the door. Then I carefully sat across from him. I noticed him
It was November, just after my mother died from cancer, that I began attending the church again. That’s when my obsession started. Even though I knew it was wrong, I couldn’t help but have the fantasies about the young priest who presided over the church. I’d always liked Father Michaels. He was in his mid-thirties, about five-foot-eleven with dark hair and gray eyes. Even though I never caught a glimpse of him out of his priestly garb, I always imagined that beneath the black robes and priestly vestments that he had strong arms and a rock hard chest. Yeah, I admit it, I have a great imagination. I even began helping out with some of the luncheons and church activities just so I could be closer to him. Sometimes I’d have to leave him notes saying we’d gotten the newsletter out, or that the church member database had been updated. I’d always sign them, Sincerely, Megan. Yeah, it was a bit formal, but it seemed appropriate since I’d only politely shared in small talk with Father Michael
t was Billy’s turn to spin. The very act of reaching for the spinner forced him into even closer contact with his mom. She giggled as Billy’s hand glided across her chest, either not realizing or not caring about how much of am embarrassing struggle it was for him to keep himself in check.“Alright… Left hand, Blue?” Billy looked at the mat. The only way for him to get his left hand on any of the blue dots was to put even harder up against her.“Are you going to try it, sweetie, or do you give up?” The smile on Melissa’s face enraged Billy a little, as though to her, winning the game meant a lot. He’d always known her to be a rather competitive woman, and had inherited a competitive streak from her, himself.“I can do it!” he said, moving into position. His cock was aching against the fabric of his pants, and it slid right in between his mom’s thighs. Her skirt was tiny, and he could feel the heat coming off her bare flesh. It felt amazing, so good that he felt a little sick knowing
Try as he might, Billy could not find a single one of his friends to hang out with for the night. Everyone had either already made plans, or wasn’t picking up their phone, or just plain brushed him off.Billy sat in front of his computer, disappointed and frustrated by his predicament. Without really meaning to, he ended up clicking over to one of his favorite porn sites, an open forum where amateur nude photos of women were the bread and butter.He clicked on a promising looking link, and gawked at the screen as he clicked through a photoset of an insanely attractive woman around hismom’s age. She slowly stripped her clothes off, photo by photo, giving him a slow, still striptease, and exciting Billy’s cock into a state of rock hardness.“Have you had any luck?” “The door swung open, and his mom stepped in through it. Billy only just barely had enough time to click to a different tab.“Sorry mom, I…” He trailed off in midsentence as he stared at her.Melissa was wearing a tiny black







