Novel & Cerita Confession X

He said the crucifix was made out of the cross Jesus Christ was crucified on and that it is sure to ward off demonic attacks and possessions as long as she has it on her always. .................................. ✍🏾 Jessica goes to St Paul’s Parish to have a confession, she walks into the church with a veil over her face and goes into the confession box and removes the veil. “Bless me Father for I have sinned. It has been far too long since my last confession,” she says. “No sin is too great for God to forgive, my child,” he says. “What if I said I didn’t come to confess my sins?” “Then what are you here for?”

They are all looking at the mark of the pen that looks likely written weeks ago. "Damn, this is not easy to find out! I must prefer solving problems and equations than to find out this case. It is really a hard thing. Damn it, really damn it." Davon hissed and took a deep breath. "Keep calm, mother fucker. We will find out what happened. Always remember that the truth is always with us. No matter how hard it is to find this case for the first time, there will be a time that we will find out the truth. No secrets can keep forever. As long as we keep looking at it." Green said in a serious matter.

Father Uriel’s POV The silence in the confessional was thick with sin and possibility. Tia’s final confession hung in the air like incense— “...even right now, as we speak… I’m still feeling it. I’m horny again. I’m sitting here in the confessional, wet and aching between my legs, and I hate myself so much for it.” My cock stirred hard beneath my cassock. This beautiful, devout young woman had just bared the deepest, most shameful part of her soul to me, and the extreme religious taboo of it all sent a dark, powerful thrill through my veins.

I did anyway. Unknown number. No photo. No link. Just a sentence that made my skin go cold. You can’t seal a confession. My breath stopped. Then another message arrived—this one a file transfer notification from a platform I didn’t recognize, as if someone had dropped a package on the internet and addressed it to me. File available: “CONFESSION.mp4” The room blurred at the edges. I didn’t open it. I didn’t touch it. I held the phone out to counsel like it was venom.

his hoarse voice cracked. I did not speak again. I heard him sigh very loud and deep before pulling himself up. He struggled to stand up, as if he was very weak. My lips parted, but I stopped myself from talking. Slowly, he went behind me, and pushed my wheelchair towards the elevator. The cold and harsh wind kissed my face as soon as we got in the rooftop. He looked at me, so weak and lifeless. I lifted my chin. “Tell me everything.” I saw how he swallowed hard. Is he having a hard time confessing about his lies, or he's hesitating because he doesn't want to let me go? I will choose the latter, but I don't wanna get my hopes so high again.

Spit and precum ran down her chin and dripped onto the sheet. Cole’s hand cracked once across her ass, sharp and open-palmed, then rubbed the sting away before he reached under her and found her clit again. He rubbed it in tight, merciless circles while he pounded into her. Isabel came a fourth time, body locking, a raw broken sound torn from her throat. The tight pulse of her cunt pulled Cole over the edge. He buried himself to the hilt, groaned low and guttural, and unloaded deep—thick, hot ropes flooding her until she felt it leaking out around his cock with every final thrust.

His voice through the lattice is quieter, closer, intimate in the way that small dark spaces make everything intimate. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” I say. “It has been ten years since my last confession.” “Tell me your sins.” I take a breath. The confessional smells like a hundred years of whispered secrets. His breathing is audible through the screen, and I can hear him controlling it, performing calm. “I’ve been having impure thoughts.” A pause. “What kind of impure thoughts?” “Sexual thoughts. About a man.” “This is not uncommon. The flesh is –”

I was soaked—panties drenched—clit throbbing under my fingers. “Father…” I whispered—voice shaking. “What do we do?” He was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then softly, almost broken: “Come to confession tomorrow night. After hours. Use the side door. No one will be here.” My heart stuttered. “And then?” “Then,” he said—voice rough with want—“we confess everything. Properly.” I moaned—soft, helpless—fingers pressing harder against my clit through the skirt.

Maybe for once I could be honest and say that my marriage was not getting better; it was falling further and further into misery. “I told mine that it was over,” Russell said. “Let me just say, it was fucking liberating. Saying the words was like loosening a damn vise from my chest.” I wasn’t sure what it was about the anonymity of conversing with a stranger, but for the next hour or so, both Russell Collins and I took full advantage. We said things that cleansed and relieved. I wasn’t a fucking priest, but maybe, just maybe, I was able to help him, because I knew that come tomorrow, his time for absolution would be over.

"Mom, Clara sold our company secrets and still dares to join the contest." She pulled out a magazine, pointing to the rival's early spring collection. The designs were identical to mine. Ruth, who valued the company above everything else, panicked upon seeing this.