Confession

Father Jose towers over my tiny frame. His chocolate skin and dark brooding eyes makes for a charismatic religious leader. His soft-spoken ways earn him a place in the heart of even the most uptight nun in the whole convent school. His presence among women is electrifying. We enter at the same time through the confessional, a thin wall of wood between us peppered with holes, like a sieve allowing nothing but my voice to reach him.

“Father, forgive me for I have sinned,” I whisper to him. “I have defiled my body every night, touching my temple with my dirty hands.”

His breath is caught, then he recovers, breathing deeper this time, breath slowly accelerating. “My daughter, go on,” his voice sounds shaky and hoarse. I can see his lips longingly parted.

I move my face closer to him, my lips almost touching the varnished wood. “I fantasize about a humid afternoon like this, when I go to the confessional and show you, Father Jose, just how much of a whore I really am.” He does not dare breathe. I slip out of my booth and before he could take any action, I am sitting on his hard cock held prisoner by his habit. As I take my place, I shut the flimsy wooden door behind me.

“I know you want this, Father Jose,” I tease. “You dream about this. I see the way you look at all of us at communion, kneeling in front of you, our faces just at the level of your restrained cock, looking up at you expectantly, mouths waiting and open for you to deliver the sacred body of Christ. I know you wish you could break open your habit, take your raging cock out of your pants and distribute your sperm into each warm mouth.”

With that, I whip open that gratuitous habit, find his fly and take his exploding cock in my mouth. I hear him grunt then immediately stop himself almost from breathing. I devour his cock, my lips touching its base, its tip ramming onto the back of my throat, tickling me, causing my stomach to spasm. I pull my mouth up, containing myself, bathing his whole crotch with strings of saliva. He gathers my waist-length hair at the top of my head and pumps himself with my mouth, his hips rising to meet my stroke, until he could not restrain himself much longer. He lets out an anguished cry and sprays me with his come. I keep my mouth open, my tongue encircling the circumcised tip of his frenzied member. His sperm scatter on my face. I look up at him, smiling, challenging him, mocking his manhood. “Mmmmm…. Amen!”

I collect myself in the tiny cubicle. Before I leave, one final thought, “Oh, Father Jose, what’s my penance?” He looks defeated, his well-pressed image shorn now amidst wrinkled and soiled priestly garments. I smile at his weakness, “I’ll be back to confess more sins tomorrow. I’m a very bad girl.”