Novel & Cerita Priest Erotica

The rosary I had been clutching slipped from my numb fingers, clattering to the floor. I groaned into her mouth, my hands losing their battle as they gripped her waist, hauling her up until I could feel every curve against me. She tasted like mint and wine and everything I wasn't allowed to have. I kissed her back with a ferocity that terrified me, my hands wandering lower, pulling her hips into the hard, aching proof of my desire. For that moment, I wasn't a priest. I was just a man dying of thirst.

His voice was lower now almost a whisper. I kept my eyes closed. "He touched my breasts. He pulled my panties down. He put his fingers inside me first. Then he... he fucked me. I let him. I wanted it even though I knew it was wrong." The priest's breathing changed. It grew heavier. His hand on my shoulder pressed a little harder. "And now you are here," he said. "Asking for forgiveness." "Yes," I breathed. We stayed like that for a long moment. His hand did not move. The church was silent except for our breathing. I could feel the heat from his body. I could smell the faint scent of soap on his robe. My nipples tightened under my dress. I hoped he could not see.

“Yes, Father... please...” “Naughty girl.” He accelerated the pace of his fingers, driving me right back toward the edge. I bit my lip, completely consumed by the sensory overload. I had never imagined that being taken by a priest—especially one who pretended to be so pure—could feel this dirty, this intense. “Suck,” he commanded smoothly, standing up and pulling his slick fingers from my core to press them directly against my lips. I opened up, wrapping my tongue around his fingers, sucking them clean as he slid them in and out past my teeth.

determined to make this young priest remember exactly what he’d given up. I kept him deep in my mouth, tongue working the underside in slow, wet strokes while my free hand slipped under the hem of the thin dress. My fingers found my own soaked folds easily. I was dripping. Two fingers slid inside without resistance, and the stretch pulled a soft sound from my throat that vibrated around his cock. He jerked, a sharp inhale that he quickly turned into another loud line of prayer. The circle of voices rose again at his command. Perfect.

“It’s helping me… meditate on my sins. On the sin of wanting my priest.” “Turn it off.” His command was pure desperation. “You turn it off,” I dared him, my breath hitching as I moved the vibrator in slow circles. “Reach through the screen and take it from me. Stop this sinful girl from defiling your booth.” I heard a thump, as if he’d slammed his hand against the wall of his compartment. The whole confessional seemed to shudder. His breathing was harsh, animalistic. I pictured him, his clerical collar undone, his face flushed, that disciplined body taut with unmet need.

I could feel his presence at my back—tall, warm, the faint rustle of his cassock as he moved closer. I kept reading, line after line about denying the body, about offering suffering to God, about the dangers of self-indulgence. My voice shook on the parts about “touching oneself in secret” and “fantasies that defile the soul.” By the time I reached the end of the first page I was breathing faster, nipples tight against my dress, the ache between my legs worse than it had been all day. Father Chris stepped around the table so I could see him. He leaned down, one hand resting on the open book, the other hanging loose at his side. His eyes locked on mine.

“I… I love it… I love being used… I love your cock in my ass… I love their cunts on my face… I want… I want you all… every night… please… fill me…” He roared, a low, animal sound and buried himself to the hilt. Heat flooded her bowels in thick, pulsing jets. Maria’s body convulsed in response; her untouched cunt spasmed, squirting a sudden, violent arc of clear fluid that splashed across the priest’s cassock and the marble steps below. She came untouched, ass clenching rhythmically around his cock, milking every drop while her own release soaked the sacred stone. Father Elias pulled out slowly, letting a thick trickle of cum leak from her gaping asshole onto the altar.

he murmured. But the only sound I made was a soft moan. My fingers moved between my legs, finding the slick heat. I was already so close. "Priest..." I whispered. "Finger your pussy deeper," he mumbled huskily this time. And I did. My hips moved with the rhythm, chasing every wave of pleasure. The word priest made it worse. Made it better. And made it hotter. "Good girl," he whispered. My whole body reacted. My thighs trembled. My toes curled.

His cock was slightly curved, hitting my G-spot perfectly with every brutal thrust. The double — now triple and quadruple — creampie made my pussy a sloppy, gaping mess. Cum frothed and bubbled around his pistoning shaft as he fucked me senseless. I came repeatedly, squirting violently, my body convulsing against the chains as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. The priests took turns again, fucking my mouth, my tits, and my pussy in every combination. Finally, all four priests surrounded me, stroking their cocks furiously. “Time for the final exorcism,” Father Elias commanded.

“Answer me.” “Yes, Father Lucian,” I confessed, cheeks burning. “I’m… I’m soaked.” A dark chuckle rolled through the screen. “Holy Mary, Mother of God…” he prompted, mocking gently as one thick finger traced along my slick folds. I tried to continue. “Holy Mary, Mother of God… pray for us sinners…..” He slid one finger between my lips, gliding over my swollen clit. My hips jerked involuntarily. “Keep going,” he ordered. “Louder. Let God hear how you sin while your priest touches this needy little cunt for the first time.”