Wet Confession Novels & Stories

David said nothing; he was clearly angry at Roslyn but he’d refused to say it. They continue to eat in silent until David opened his mouth to speak; “I want to tell you something but I worried you’ll not talk to me again.” Roslyn knitted her brow; she pondered why David said that. “Well, if ya think I’ll not speak with ya again, why bring it up?” she asked. “You can tell me anything David; only if it doesn’t have to do with you cheating on me.” she told him sincerely; David shakes his rapidly in denial. “Far from it, the last thing I’ll ever do is to cheat on my wife.” “Then what is it?” asked Roslyn good-naturedly. He shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair and sighed. “It’s about Dave.” Ro

He caged me in and spoke above my lips. "Confess." He licked the seam of my mouth, his fingers diving between my legs, spreading the wetness around. "My slut is always so wet for daddy, isn't she?" I moaned as he dipped a finger inside my entrance. "Sorry daddy, I haven't sinned, but I do have a confession to make." He was rubbing his pant clad erection against me. A new flood of heat dripped down from between my legs. "I c-can't confess if you d-do that." I let loose a loud moan when he grinded against my clit.

It was so fucking long that I had been touched that I was coming just from him circling my clit. "I won't let you cum if you do not tell me who you are wet for," he said, and I moaned. "You. Luca. I am wet for you," I confessed, which was the entire truth, and it rolled out of my lips with an orgasmic scream following it. I tried to muffle my sound, but he pulled my hand from my mouth.

But his feet moved without permission. He stepped into the confessional. Slid the partition open. Waited. Her voice came low and smoky, like she was halfway through a cigarette and a secret. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” His mouth was already dry. “How long has it been since your last confession?” “Three days.” Three days? His brow twitched. “Go on.” A pause. Then: “I touched myself thinking of a man I shouldn’t want.” Heat moved up his spine.

Her confession today was different; not the usual petty transgressions of thought, but something deeper, more unsettling. "I… I have been having… impure thoughts, Father," she confessed, her voice barely audible. "Thoughts that shame me. Thoughts of… flesh. Of touch. Of wanting…" She trailed off, her cheeks flushing a deep scarlet visible even in the dim light. Father Michael clenched his fists, the cheap fabric of his cassock rough against his skin.

I whimpered, the title now the dirtiest of endearments. He slammed into me harder, changing the angle, hitting a spot that made me see stars. "And what is this?" "My confession!" I cried out as another orgasm began to tear through me, triggered by his words as much as his dick. "My sacrilege! My worship!"

He slid one long finger inside her, and it entered with no resistance at all, sinking into her wet heat up to the last knuckle. "Fuck," he whispered, the word torn from his throat, raw and broken. It was his first confession, his complete and utter surrender. "That's it," she moaned, rocking her hips back and forth, impaling herself on his hand. "Now move them together. I want to feel you fucking both my holes at once, Mark."

⸻ 9:25 AM -- In Uniform, in Line, Plugged, and Drenched She texted Sir again. TSA update, Sir. Still plugged. Coworker made a comment about how I walk. Said if I was in his room tonight I'd be lucky to stand tomorrow. I almost came standing in line. My panties would be ruined if I were wearing any. I'm dripping. Soaking. I need to beg. The reply came quickly: "You will report the entire interaction in tonight's confession. Word for word. Word. For. Word. Understood?" She shuddered.

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.

Kneel in that dim little box, with my heart pounding, and spill everything. Because God, did I have sins to confess. Top of the list, burning brightest; I’m fucking the priest. The words echoed in my head, filthy and true, sending a fresh rush of heat between my thighs even now. I’d whisper it into the grate—how I crave him, how I let him ruin me on his desk, how I walk around aching for the next time he’ll push inside me and make me forget my own name. I’d tell him every detail, voice shaking, until he couldn’t hide behind that screen anymore.