Wet Confession Novels & Stories

She got to her room and hastily got to the bathroom. ************** The king came out from the bathroom and tied his royal robe around his already dried body. He combed his wet hair and use his hair towel to dry his hair. He exhaled deeply and plonked hard on his bed. His mind was troubled and he didn't know what to do. The feelings he was starting to feel towards the confessor was something that made him do confused – he hasn't felt that way with anybody. Whatever that feeling was, it wasn't really a good one because, it would deter the him from having his intended revenge on her.

In that moment of vulnerability, the beautiful woman felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her veins. Fear and desire intertwined in a tumultuous dance, each vying for dominance over her trembling form. Summoning her courage, she drew in a deep breath, steeling herself for the confession that lay ahead. "Father," Lara whispered, her voice barely audible above the hushed stillness of the room. In the darkness beyond the screen, she could sense his presence. Granger. Silent witness to her innermost thoughts and desires. It was a dangerous game they played, this ritual of confession, a dance of temptation and absolution that threatened to consume them both.

Edward and I used to message each other on it all the time. It happened the day we’d just finished an exam. After roughly estimating my score, I couldn’t wait to chat with him. As we talked, I got caught up in the moment and blurted out a confession. And then… I never got a reply. At first, I thought maybe something had come up, so I waited. I waited quietly, from seven in the evening until midnight. But still, nothing. I went from anxiously tossing and turning on my bed to feeling so miserable I wanted to cry.

Sometimes I would grind against my pillow, imagining his touch, imagining riding him, moaning his name, taking him deep inside me as I shivered and came. I knew it was wrong, horrible even, considering he was a priest, someone the town respected. But I couldn’t stop myself. Today, I had decided to come clean, to confess my sins to him, certain that as a priest, he would forgive me. Forgive me for my lewd thoughts, my sinful actions, and guide me back to the right path. So when the silence in the confessional booth stretched long enough, I parted my lips, my voice soft and nervous, and tried to spill everything.

She was just like the old me, wasn't she? No matter how coldly she had been treated, she would still run after him like a hopeful puppy. The only difference was that I had confessed to him 143 times over the course of five years. As I carried my belongings into the cab, I received a text message from Aldric. "Let's have your 144th declaration tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you with the decorated car." I laughed before removing my SIM card and tossing it away. My luggage had been packed, and a one-way ticket to Eastmere had been booked.

His cock, still inside her, gave one last throb, releasing another drop of cum. “You are absolved… but only until tomorrow night. Tomorrow I want that ass again… and this time I’m going to record it. I want to film you on all fours on the altar, taking cock in both holes, screaming my name while you cum like the habit-wearing slut you are. And then I’ll watch it with you while I fuck you again.” Clara laughed softly, clenching her pussy around his cock and feeling the hot cum leak out. “Amen, Father… amen. I can hardly wait for the next confession.”

'Spread your legs and show me how wet your confession makes you. I perched on the edge of the oak surface, the wood cool against my heated skin, and parted my thighs wide. My pussy lips parted slightly, revealing the slick pink folds within. He stepped between my legs, his cassock tenting at the crotch, and traced a finger along my slit, gathering my juices. 'Filthy nun,' he muttered, eyes dark. 'Dripping like a whore in heat just from my voice. You want my fingers fucking this tight cunt again, don't you?'

' But I could hear the smile in her tone, the way she lingered on 'offended,' like she was daring me to imagine how. That first night, I absolved her, my hand trembling as I made the sign of the cross. But as she slipped out, her heels clicking on the stone floor, I lingered in the booth, hand slipping under my robes to stroke the ache she'd ignited. It was wrong... mortally so, but the release came swift and shameful, her name a silent prayer on my lips. Week two blurred into three, each confession more vivid, more invasive. She described blowjobs in alleyways, her lips wrapped around strangers dicks, slurping and gagging as they face-fucked her against graffiti-covered walls.

he murmured, voice low and molten, “why are you this fucking wet, little flame? Dripping down my hand, soaking my thigh… don’t you dare lie to me again.” My lips parted on a shattered breath. My nails clawed into the couch as he pressed that finger deeper, thrusting in and out with slow strokes that rubbed me raw, lighting every nerve on fire. My hips rolled shamelessly, chasing him, betraying me completely. “I… I can’t… I need you.” I finally whimpered, the confession cracking open, my body trembling so hard I thought I’d break apart. A low, filthy moan tore free.

Chapter 1: The Confession of a Sinner Trope:Forbidden / Clergy / Seduction Heat Level: [NOIR X3] The wood of the confessional smelled of old incense and ancient, suffocating guilt. I could hear his breathing through the carved screen…steady, rhythmic, and painfully oblivious. He thought I was here to repent. He thought I was just another lost soul looking for a way back to the light. He had no idea I was here to drag him into the dark with me.