She knelt in the darkness, waiting. She could smell the incense as it hung in the air. Incense and candle wax, and furniture polish. Those were the smells she associated with the church.

The grille slid back. She could just make out the outline of the priest’s head in the dim light behind him as he waited for her to confess.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been six years since my last confession.”

She paused, tilting her head to try and peer through the wooden grille separating them. She could detect a whiff of aftershave and stale cigarette smoke as his cassock rustled as he got himself comfortable.

“What are your sins, my child?”

Her clasped hands clenched, the knuckles turning white as my mouth went dry.

She falteringly struggled to begin the sentence. Then, the words came out in a rush.

“I’ve been having an affair with a married man, Father.”

She heard the intake of breath. She could see him shifting forward in his seat, as if leaning in to hear the salaciousness better.

“How long has it been going on?” His voice oozed through the grill.

“Four months, Father.” She paused, swallowing. “Since just before Christmas.”

“I see. That’s quite a while. How did it start?”

“My boss asked me to work late one evening. We had a big order to go out of the factory and there was a lot of paperwork. After we had finished, he invited me to come into his office for a drink.”

The priest couldn’t help licking his lips as he listened. The girl’s voice was young, he imagined she was in her early twenties at most. The thought of her being taken by her older boss made his cock twitch.

He’d caught a glimpse of her kneeling in one of the pews earlier as he’d entered the confessional box. There had only five parishioners waiting and only one was under forty. This must be the girl with the wavy brunette hair.

As he listened to her recounting her tale, the visuals played in his mind. He could see it all. Her boss, older, successful, married with kids, not passing up an opportunity to flirt with his young secretary.

“Then after I’d taken a drink of the whiskey, Father, he kissed me. It was just a friendly peck on the cheek, nothing more. A ‘thank you for a good job’ kiss.”

The priest thought to himself, ‘I bet he did more than just kiss you though, didn’t he? And you didn’t say no. A good girl would have said no but you’re not a good girl.’ His hands were sliding over his cassock now, rubbing his thighs as he felt himself stiffen.

The priest felt like he was watching it all as the girl told him how her boss had slid a hand along her thigh and pushed her dress up. He could see it all. The man leaning in for a kiss, pressing his mouth to hers as his fingers moved up her thigh and grasped her tight ass cheek. His hands sliding over her knickers as he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her towards him. The girl’s head tilted back, offering herself to him.

As the girl knelt, recounting her tale, she felt her knickers dampen. She too was visualising the scene. She’d been wearing her green dress that flared out at the waist. It showed off her figure, accentuating her tight waist but it meant his hand could easily slide up her thigh.

She threw her head back as his lips traced her jawbone and slid over her neck. She arched her neck, swan-like. Offering herself to him as his hand caressed her bum through her knickers.

She knew she should say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ but it felt so good. When his two hands went up her dress and pulled her knickers down, she was too far gone to care. She described how his fingers had brushed the curls between her legs as she shuffled her legs wider apart for him. How he’d moaned into her neck as her fingers brushed the outline of his cock through his trousers.

As she told the priest how she’d slid down onto her knees in front of him, she paused. She had heard a rustle of cloth and was sure there had been the sound of a zipper too.

“Go on, my child,” the priest ordered, sounding slightly breathless.

As the girl continued her tale of how she had unfastened her boss’s belt, the priest wrapped his fingers around the shaft of his cock, now hanging out on his unzipped trousers. He imagined it was the girl caressing him as his fingers slowly moved up and down the shaft.

“He told me to do it, Father. He practically ordered me to suck his cock.”

‘Oh God,' the priest shuddered. 'Lead me not into temptation,’ he muttered silently as his fingers stroked over the purple helmet of his rock hard cock. The girl’s description of how she gave her boss a blowjob was making him harder and harder.

The girl knelt in the confessional box, on her knees, just as she had been that evening. She had knelt in front of him, sliding his trousers down to his ankles. His cock had popped out through the fly of his boxer shorts and a drop of pre-cum glistening on the tip, oozing out of the one-eyed slit. She had looked up at him. He was standing, leaning back against the edge of the desk and watching her. His fingers stroked her hair, guiding her face towards him.

She had gripped the waistband of his boxers with one hand and tucked his cock back inside with the other as she slid the boxers over his cock and down to his ankles, to join his trousers.

His balls hung down, heavy, covered in a mat of curls. She pressed her face into him, kissing the left one as she ran her cheek against the side of his cock. Her mouth was open, tongue out, licking the shaft and over the tip as she repeated the movement, pressing her face against the other side of his cock.

“Stop teasing me and suck me,” he’d ordered, pulling her head back by her hair. She’d looked up at him again as her head leant forward, mouth open, her wet lips enveloping the head, pressing down on him, taking over half his cock into her mouth before stopping and slowly dragging her lips back up again.

His cock popped from her mouth as she gripped the shaft in one hand. Her tongue out, she licked the underside, pulling the foreskin back fully so she could run her tongue over the frenulum. She felt his legs shake as she licked it, that oh so sensitive piece of skin.

She could hear the priest’s breathing change as she recounted her tale, confessing it to him.

“I sucked his cock, Father, but it wasn’t enough.”

He had gripped her hair with his fingers. She remembered the pain as his fingers tightened, pinning her in place. He’d forced her head down as he pushed his hips up. His cock filled her mouth. She tried to relax, to let the cock go down her throat but the angle was wrong, it made her gag. He held it there, as she struggled, her eyes pleading, looking up at him. She remembered gasping for breath, there was a long string of drool dangling from her mouth to the tip of his cock.

He grinned, watching her get her breath back, then he forced her face back onto his cock again. This time, she was slightly more prepared and managed to take almost it all without gagging. But it was the gagging he wanted. he pushed in deeper than last time, pushing in until he felt her struggle. As she tried to move up, rattling her head from side to side, he held her there. It was only as the tears rolled down her cheeks and she sounded like she was going to puke all over him that he released her.

“Stand up.” The order was whispered. She put a hand on the corner of the desk to help climb up.

“He turned me around and pressed my face down onto the desk, Father. I couldn’t say no.” 

‘I bet you couldn’t,' the priest thought. He hardly dared speak. Silently, he continued to stroke his cock. He couldn’t wank as fast as he wanted for fear she’d hear him. The slow steady movements pulling his foreskin up over the head and back down again built up the pleasure and tension slowly.

“And then?”

Then he’d flipped her dress up, exposing her pale white ass. He’d kicked her ankle, signalling her to spread her legs wider. She’d stared ahead, reading the inspirational quote of the day on the calendar sitting on his desk.

“It’s not your job to be likeable, it’s your job to be yourself.”

Fuck, no wonder he thinks he can do what he wants if he believes this shit, she thought. Then everything went from her mind as she felt him press his cock into her. He was big. She’d realised that when she’d tried to swallow him a few minutes earlier but fuck, he was big.

Her wet velvet walls gripped him as he stroked it in and out of her. His fingers gripped her hair again and snapped her head off the desk. He rode her as she lay draped over his desk. Her breasts rubbed against the desk through her bra and dress as he took her.

“He fucked me, Father, he just took me and fucked me.”

She stopped talking. The priest’s head was pressed back against the wall now. His hand was wanking his cock faster. She could hear him through the grille.

“Did you hear me, Father. Did you hear how he took me and fucked me? He shoved his cock deeper, harder, faster into me. I was dripping onto his desk as he pounded me. I bet his wife doesn’t let him take her the way he took me, Father.”

He knickers were soaked now as she recounted her tale.

“I was moaning, Father, moaning, writhing on his desk as he fucked me. His cock felt so big I thought he was going to split me in two.”

The priest had given up trying to be silent. She could hear the skin flapping as he wanked his cock. Little moans coming out of his mouth.

“When he fired his cum inside me, Father, I came like a fucking train.”

“Gggnahhhhhh,” the priest moaned, spasming as the ropes of thick cum shot from the end of his cock onto the wall of the confessional box.

The woman stood up quickly, she’d been waiting for this moment and stepped out of the confessional box and flung open the door to the priest’s chamber.

She stared at the priest, sitting there with his trousers open and his softening cock in his hand.

“You dirty fecker. I forgot one other sin, Father. Lying to a priest. I made the story up, you fucking pervert.”

She turned and stormed off, and as the priest slowly lifted his eyes, he could see the faces of the other parishioners staring open-mouthed at him.