Please Forgive My Unholy Desire Father Novels & Stories

"And you thought swooping in to settle the bill and slapping me around in an empty ward would make you two look like heroes?" "I regret not letting you and your mother rot and die back then!" my father spat, his voice raspy with malice. "You're a jinx! It would have saved me the humiliation of watching you turn into such a despicable, scheming creature!" A dull, agonizing ache bloomed inside my chest. Hearing my own father openly admit that he wished my mother and I were dead hit me like a physical blow. I had known for years that he held no love for us in his heart, but hearing the raw truth spoken aloud cut straight through my soul.

"You want to talk about the truth? Let me tell you some truth. Your mother was a whore. She was sleeping with my father while he was married to my mother. She was going to destroy my family." "She was trying to do the right thing." "She was trying to get rich. She wanted money. She wanted power. She wanted—" I slapped him. The sound echoed through the apartment. He stood there, his hand on his cheek, staring at me. "You don't get to talk about her," I said. "You don't get to say her name. You destroyed her. You destroyed me. And now I'm going to destroy you." His eyes went cold. "How?" I reached into my purse and pulled out the letter. I held it up so he could see it.

"Booker Group in Pemberton is very interested in your profile. Would you be interested in giving it a try?" Back then, I still wasn't ready to meet Edgar, so I turned it down. All these years, it felt like there was someone watching over me and quietly giving me a helping hand from behind the scenes. At first, I felt unsettled because the word "father" was simply too foreign to me. Later, I felt anger. Why was he always lurking in the background, sitting up in his company, all distant and untouchable? It was as if he'd simply erased Grandma's death from his mind, like it had never happened.

The screen between us was carved with tiny crosses, but I could still see the shadow of his profile, the sharp line of his cheekbone, the way his thumb stroked the purple stole across his shoulders. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I started, voice trembling. Silence. Then that voice, low and smooth as sin itself. “How long since your last confession, figlia mia?” “Three weeks, Father.” “And what weighs on your soul tonight?” I swallowed. My thighs pressed together under the modest skirt I’d chosen just for him (navy, knee-length, but no panties underneath because I was already soaked). “I… I’ve been having impure thoughts, Father. Constantly. About a man I’m not allowed to want.”

If Lucius were not able to succeed, I would find a way to kill my father, even if it meant selling my soul to someone else. "Oh, Goddess!" I arched my body, my lips parting as I kept my legs wider while Adan positioned his hard cock on the folds of my pussy. I wanted to suck him and taste him, but I also wanted him inside me. I wanted him to fill me and make me complete again. ‘Where are you?’ Father’s voice snapped me out of my happy bubble, and my lust went downhill in an instant. ‘Walking around. Do you need me?’ ‘Guillermo arrived. He wants to meet you now.’

“Most precious Melanie, I wish I knew how to start a letter, I almost didn’t, and that is ironic considering I write for a living. Anyway, I am sorry to have done this to you, unfortunately, being in your presence makes me forget all of the terrible things my father did to me, I want to forgive him and move on when I am with you, forget being a priest and be fully and utterly yours, but how can I? He deserves to roll in his grave forever when he sees me using his hard earned wealth, I cannot have him laughing at me forever.

I begged, my hands holding his face tightly. “Please what?” He asked, grinning. “Fuck me. Do-Don’t stop.” I begged, closing my eyes as waves of pleasure hit me. “Do you want to cum on your father’s grave?” He asked another question. “YES!!!” I screamed. Wait— My father’s grave? “You’re already fucking on his grave. Just bless him with your cum as farewell.” He said. “Cum now!” I felt my orgasm start to build. “It’s— coming.”

As I stared into those empty eyes now hooded with lust, I silently begged for forgiveness. Forgiveness from my father— for tarnishing his name like this... Forgiveness for feeling this good. Forgiveness for the words that slipped shamelessly from my lips. “F-Fuck… please—don’t stop. Please make me cum.”

Finally, he looked up at me with desperation in his eyes. He crawled on the ground and reached my feet as he begged, "Phoebe, you can't do this to me. I'm your father! I know I've done wrong. Please forgive me just this once." I avoided his touch and replied coldly, "You don't deserve to call yourself my father!" Tyler, not ready to give up, clung to my leg desperately. "Phoebe, please, I beg you. Madison manipulated me into doing all of this! I've always loved you!"

Can’t breathe. Three elderly men writhe on my bed: Wrinkled skin, grey hair, bodies that should repulse me but don’t. Their holes gape at the camera, tight and pale, and my cock responds before my mind catches up. They are moaning my name like a prayer, cum spurting from their cocks. “You like it.” Father’s voice drips with satisfaction. Not a question, a statement. “You’ve always hated me for knowing.” I force my hand away from my cock. “Now you’re offering this? What do you want?”