Priest Erotica Novels & Stories

Still, doubt creeps in as I focus on her eyes, “Is this the right thing for you though?” She looks at me for a long minute, before finding my hand and leading it down her body. Her boobs, soft and perky, her flat stomach, and finally deeper. Past her panties and I feel her wetness. My hand is soaked, and she groans when my hand comes into contact with her dripping pussy. The sound is so sexy, so raw. “Just from that kiss, my love. We can talk about whether it's right tomorrow.” I don't need any other confirmation. I grab her.

I felt myself getting close, as if I could join those heavenly bodies up in the sky. “I saw the way you looked at my dick at Coverts,” he whispered, not letting up on his assault on my clit, his lips tracing along my jawline. “I was so hard. You had on that yellow lingerie set that glowed against your skin. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you so badly. That young dude wasn’t going to get this pussy.” With that, he moved his attention from my clit, sliding two fingers inside my hot, already-drenched pussy. He worked his fingers until they were fully coated and soaked. “But I knew it wasn’t time. I’m patient. I can wait.”

The kind that could make any woman feel something sinful stir deep inside her. But the man speaking wasn’t a mafia boss. He was hot, tall—yes. But he was also a priest. A fucking hot priest. One I lusted for. Obsessed over. The one who made me touch myself at night, desperate and aching in ways I never thought I could. Enzo Romano. A walking sin wrapped in holiness. Long black hair he tied back into a ponytail, piercing gray eyes that looked right into your soul, and features so divine they made you believe God really did have favorites.

The sun had already set, and with very little light, there wasn't much to see. Then the ceiling-to-ground glass door slid open, and one foot stepped out, then another followed. A figure swayed in the dark, her hips captivating the priest's eyes with every turn. Between the High Priest's legs, a growing bulge presented itself. It ached as her hands traced down his chest to the desire that wanted to be released. “I thought we agreed to help the Queen in the open, then sabotage it all behind their back,” a soft voice trailed. Priest Soren swallowed hard. His eyes flickered with lust, and he pulled the figure closer, smashing his lips against hers like a hungry beast.

“You feel so… big. So good inside me.” “Tighter,” he urged, his own hips bucking up to meet her frenzied descent. “Squeeze me.” She obeyed, consciously tightening her inner muscles around his shaft as she rode him, a deliberate, milking pressure that drew a ragged shout from him. The control was intoxicating. She was the priestess here, and he was her sacrifice. She leaned forward, changing the angle, letting him thrust deeper from below. Her hands braced on his chest. Their eyes locked. His were dark pools of unfiltered lust, completely surrendered to her.

He bucked his hips into my hand. "You like that?" he growled. "Like feeling how hard you make my cock?" "Yes," I said, squeezing him tighter. "I want it now." He yanked my dress up to my waist fast. My black lace panties were dark and wet. His fingers hooked the edge and slid under. He found my swollen clit and rubbed slow circles. "So wet," he said, voice thick. "Your pussy is dripping for a stranger. Begging for my cock already." I whimpered and my head fell back against the door with a thud. "Don't stop... please."

I hissed under my breath, the holy name making me wince even as I kept jerking myself off. "Fuck, fuck..." The words escaped like prayers, only these were of a completely different kind—carnal, desperate. "God forgive me…” My cock throbbed in my hand, pre-cum leaking out as I imagined sinful things—things no priest should think about. Hard bodies pressed against me, mouths kissing instead of praying lips. I groaned loudly, pumping faster. "Wrong... So wrong..." I choked out between strokes. My hips lifted off the chair, pushing my length through my fist as if seeking relief.

I whisper the words to him, but the microphone tied to my dress’s collar picks up my slight whisper. If I moan here… Fuck. I hate this bastard! I sharpen my glare at him, but he taps his face as if to say, ‘watch your expression.’ My fingers grip his coat as I feel my body again surrender to the violent pleasure setting inside me. I shouldn’t give in like this… the priest will know; isn't he the eyes of God or something? Does this mean God will smite me once I climax, that he only allows edging without release? What a cruel God.

“On your knees, Elias. Show him how you worship your stepbrother.” I sank down, the wooden floor cold under me. Damien freed himself, thick and ready, and I took him deep without hesitation. The wet sounds filled the cabin as I sucked him, eyes watering but locked on his face. He groaned, fingers in my hair. “Fuck, you are perfect. Deeper. Let Tyler see what a good little secret keeper you are.” Tyler unzipped his own pants, stroking himself as he watched. “Damn. He is better than when he spied on us. Make him choke on it.”

The three Doms returned to there places and Peter, still naked, returned to the altar. Peter took what was probably some kind of salve and began to rub Tracey's behind to sooth the wounds of her ordeal. She flinched slightly as Peter's hand, probably a bit cold, touched the stinging ass on display. It was a bit erotic, but there was no emotion from the assembled group. Peter then lifted her off the altar, attached a leash of some sort to her collar and paraded her around the room one time. He stopped briefly at each of the leader's chairs where Tracey would kneel down and put her face between her knees for inspection. One by one they followed this ritual until they again returned to the alta