Wet Confession Novels & Stories

I screamed into the air, my face slick with tears and sweat. He pounded harder, faster, the bed creaking under us. “Say it loud. Who’s my filthy fuck-hole forever?” “I’M YOUR FILTHY FUCK-HOLE FOREVER!” I yelled, my throat burning, my body shaking. And with every thrust, with every slam I was reminded over and over again of who I was now. Nothing more than his cum-rag. And this, this is my cum-stained confession. The END.

Marcus's hand immediately slid between her legs from behind, his fingers finding her pussy soaking wet. "Soaked already," he murmured with satisfaction. "Good girl. Now...people will start coming soon. You'll hear confessions normally. I'm going to play with you. Make you wet. Make you struggle. But you cannot make a sound that would alert them. Understand?" "Yes, Father," Veronica breathed. At exactly 2:00 PM, Veronica heard the church door open, heard footsteps approaching the confession booth. Someone entered the booth to her left. "Bless me, Sister, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession."

My heart pounded so hard I could feel the pulse between my legs. The confessional booth waited like a confessor’s cage. I stepped inside, pulled the heavy curtain closed, and knelt on the padded bench. My bare pussy lips parted slightly as I settled, already coating the wood with a thin sheen of my arousal. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I whispered, voice already breathy. That deep, velvet-gravel voice answered immediately from the other side of the grate. “Tell me everything, Sienna. Leave nothing out.”

I gasp. "But you keep fucking me through it, snarling my name, until you bury yourself to the hilt and pump after pump of hot cum flooding me, claiming me. Then you pull out, watch it leak out of me, and make me turn around, kneel, and lick you clean while your essence runs down my legs, dripping down my thighs." A strangled, animal sound rips from his throat. The confessional door on his side slams open. Mine is yanked open a heartbeat later.

I breathed into his hair. “Their loss,” He growled into my belly button. He lifted me up and dropped me onto his bed. I wiggled the rest of the way out of my swimsuit as he found a condom from his bedside table. He stood over me and hungerly took in the sight of my as he slipped the condom onto his thick shaft. I let my knees fall away as he hooked my thighs and pulled my crotch to the edge of the bed. He made a few strokes across my soaking wet folds with his dick before finally plunging it inside of me. My greedy cunt sucked him inside me before I was ready. I arched my back and gasped.

“Tell me how you jerked off after confession. Did you finger yourself while whispering Hail Marys?” “Yes—fuck—yes,” Ren sobbed. Every thrust punched the air out of his lungs. Seong’s cock was so thick, the ridges catching on his rim on every pull-out, forcing him open again and again. “I’d lock myself in my room… three fingers, pretending it was a man from the congregation. I’d come whispering ‘forgive me’ while I spilled all over my bible.”

"Now keep talking. Tell me how much you love being my little public toy." I did. Between moans and gasps I told him everything. How wet I got when the man in the raincoat spanked me. How the thought of more strangers seeing me like this made my cunt clench. How I wanted him to take more pictures, more videos, to show anyone he wanted what a desperate slut I was for him. Each confession earned me harder thrusts or a twist of the clamps or a sudden spike in the vibrations. He kept me talking until the words dissolved into pure sound, nothing but broken pleas and the wet slap of skin.

The wet sounds of cock and mouth filled the quiet hotel room. Sloane came first—sudden and hard, cunt clamping down around him, a muffled cry vibrating against the woman’s clit. The woman followed less than a minute later, thighs tightening on either side of Sloane’s head, a broken moan slipping out as she pulsed against her tongue. The man kept thrusting through both orgasms, jaw tight, then pulled out before he finished.

It was the fear of someone who had carried a secret for so long that the truth had finally become more frightening than the lie. "I'm your father," he repeated quietly. I took a step backward. "No." "Melody—" "No!" My voice cracked. "Don't say my name like that. Don't stand there and tell me you're my father as if you've just told me the weather!" Clara remained beside the doorway, watching us. She didn't look surprised. That frightened me almost as much as Nick's confession. "You knew?" I asked her. She lifted her chin slightly. "I suspected."

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.