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The Priest’s Confession part 3
publish date:
2026-08-24 16:03:27Two weeks later.
The rectory was quiet. The church had been locked for hours. Only one lamp burned in Elias’s private study, casting long shadows across the heavy desk and the leather chair behind it. Celeste stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a long black coat. She closed the door. Locked it. Then let the coat fall to the floor. Completely bare. Elias didn’t speak. He simply stood, walked around the desk, and looked at her the way a man looks at something he has already decided to ruin completely. “Come here.” She walked to him. The moment she was within reach he lifted her onto the edge of the desk, spread her thighs wide, and dropped to his knees. He didn’t tease. He buried his face between her legs and licked her open with long, hungry strokes, sucking her clit into his mouth while two thick fingers pushed inside her. Celeste’s head fell back, a sharp moan breaking free as he worked her with his tongue and hand at the same time. He kept going until her thighs trembled and she came hard against his mouth, flooding his tongue. Only then did he stand. His cassock was already open. His big cock stood heavy and flushed, the head shiny. He stepped between her legs, rubbed the thick head up and down her soaked pussy a few times—slow, deliberate strokes that made her whimper—then pushed in with one deep thrust. Celeste cried out. He fucked her hard from the start, hands gripping her hips, pulling her onto every stroke. The desk creaked beneath them. The wet slap of his cock driving into her filled the room. He leaned down, sucked one nipple deep into his mouth, then the other, biting gently, rubbing the wet peaks with his thumbs while he kept pounding into her. “Look at you,” he growled against her breast. “Sitting on my desk with your priest’s cock buried in this greedy cunt. Taking it so well.” He shifted the angle, hitting that perfect spot inside her over and over. One hand slid between them so his fingers could rub her clit in tight, fast circles while his big cock stroked her pussy without mercy. Celeste’s moans turned broken. Her nails dug into his shoulders. She came a second time with a loud, helpless cry, walls clamping down around him. Elias didn’t stop. He pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach across the desk, and entered her again from behind in one smooth, deep thrust. One hand tangled in her hair, the other reached under her to cup and squeeze her breast, fingers rubbing and pinching her nipple while he fucked her harder than before. The new angle let him go deeper. Every stroke dragged along her front wall. The wet sounds grew louder, filthier. “This is the last time,” he rasped against her ear, voice rough with restraint. “After tonight I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you whenever I want. In the sacristy. On the altar. Anywhere. So take it. Take every fucking inch.” He reached around and rubbed her clit again, fingers slick and relentless. Celeste shattered a third time, body shaking, a broken moan muffled against the desk. The tight flutter of her cunt pulled him over the edge with her. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard—thick, hot pulses flooding her until it leaked out around his cock with every final thrust. He stayed inside her for a long moment, breathing heavily, still gently rubbing her sensitive nipple with his thumb as the last aftershocks ran through both of them. When he finally pulled out, a heavy trickle of his cum slid down her inner thigh. He watched it for a second, then gathered it with two fingers and pushed it back inside her, slow and deliberate. Celeste turned her head, cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes dark and satisfied. Elias leaned down and kissed her—deep, claiming, almost tender. “Go home,” he said quietly against her mouth. “Sleep with me still inside you.” She stood on unsteady legs. He helped her back into the coat, buttoned it carefully, then walked her to the door. At the threshold she looked back once. Elias stood in the low light of the study, cassock still open, the taste of her still on his tongue, already knowing this would not be the last time—no matter what he had said.
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