50 SHADES OF SINFUL PRESSURE
And I always went.
The first time after the altar, we didn’t even make it to his bed. I slipped into the confessional at 11:45 p.m., wearing a short pleated skirt and no panties. He followed minutes later, locking the church doors. The moment the confessional door shut, he was on me.
“On my lap,” he growled, pulling me through the dividing curtain into his side.
I straddled him reverse cowgirl, yanking his cassock up and sinking down onto his thick, bare cock in one greedy motion. No condom. Never. I wanted to feel every vein, every pulse of his forbidden seed.