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OK — here’s a super short one-off. Been rattling around my brain for a while.

I have to warn you, I am not Catholic. And even though I do have this odd obsession with priests (or just men willing to dress up as one), I have very little knowledge of Catholic mass and rituals. So any errors are due to my own lack of research. I hope they do not detract too much from the story.



I got to the church a little late. The small parking lot was already packed with the town Catholics; the devout followers of the faith and those who came to mass ‘just in case’. They’d gotten used to seeing me at mass. I know they wanted to ask why I — the town’s only admitted atheist — suddenly had an interest in mass. They didn’t, but I know they wanted to.

I was glad I was late, I wanted to make sure mass had started before I arrived. I parked towards the back of the small church, close to the parsonage. I got out of the car and stood for a moment, looking at the small clapboard house.

He lived there. He showered there. He took off his collar and his clothes there. The thought of him naked, the way his skin tasted, the soft hair of his chest leading down to his delicious cock started my mouth watering and my cunt aching to be filled by him.

I sighed, turning to make my way to the church. The day was bright and brisk; the first real sign of fall since September gave way to October. The wind swirled around my legs as I crossed the parking lot, lifting the hem of my dress a little. I put my hands to my sides, holding my dress down to preserve my modesty, laughing when the absurdity of that thought hit me.

Modesty, I thought as I walked through the doors of the church, closing them silently behind me. Pretty sure I left that at home this morning.

I entered the sanctuary silently, taking a seat in the last pew, keeping my eyes cut towards the dais, where he stood. His back was to the congregation and I had a few moments to study his form. His beautiful, heartbreakingly familiar form. Even hidden under the heavy black cassock I could see the strength in his arms, the round globes of his ass, the length and musculature of his legs. Or maybe I just knew it was there.

He turned around, beginning the first liturgy, his gaze sweeping the congregation. I sat in the shadows, barely visible, but I could tell he saw me when his mouth twitched as if he was suppressing a smile. I smiled back, broadly, and barely kept myself from licking my lips at the sight of his hands grasping the edge of the podium.

Those hands…I thought, my mind floating back to the time after college, back to when I knew him as Jack. Jonathon Banion. The psychology graduate with the deep brown denizli escort eyes, light brown hair streaked with gold and soft lips. The broad shouldered man with the large, calloused hands.

My eyes followed him while my mind wandered back almost twenty years. Memories swarmed behind my eyes, memories of what we had, what we were, what we did. A sudden and clear vision of me kneeling, my elbows bound to my knees, a bar keeping my legs apart and pillows propping me up on the bed.

He made the sign of the cross and my eyes followed his hand, my mind remembering other times he used that hand. Remembering how it felt when it would slap my ass, slap my pussy. I closed my eyes for a moment, sucking in my breath against a moan. The image of those long, skilled fingers fucking my ass as Jack fucked my pussy suddenly popped into my head and I nearly came.

I shifted in the pew, the increasing wetness of my pussy reminding me I decided to forgo underwear this morning. I shook myself out of my reverie and focused my attention back to the front. The choir — children and adolescents — were standing to the side in their white satin robes, singing songs in Latin I didn’t understand. They sounded beautiful, but my gaze was drawn back to him.


I was shocked, shocked to my soul, when I walked in to the small diner and found him there. Older, slightly thicker, graying hair — but it was him. It was him and even after twenty years my nipples hardened at the sound of his deep voice. He was making the rounds, moving from booth to booth and stool to stool, talking with the townsfolk. Someone called me over to meet the new parish priest — priest! — Father Banion.


Somehow he landed in the same small town I did.

We tried to stay separate. Longing glances. Stolen moments of conversations. Chaste hugs and kisses on the cheek. His sincere hope we could be friends. I would have settled for that. I would have forced myself to settle for that. If it wasn’t for that one Thursday afternoon when I found him watching my ass at the library, a tent in his pants as I straightened up from retrieving a book off the bottom shelf.

Thus, the stalking began. Showing up for mass. Bingo. Anywhere I thought I might see him. Waiting to be the last one into the confessional and threading my fingertips through the wicker screen between us as I confessed to him. Confessed to never feeling as good with anyone else as I did with him. Confessed to thinking of him as I lay in my lonely bed. Confessed to wanting him still.

He resisted. He cited his faith and stood solid. He thwarted my every overtly sexual advance and pushed me to meet someone else, to date someone else. I did. I met a man, a nice man, and we went out last Tuesday afternoon. diyarbakır escort Roller skating and afterwards dinner and pie at the diner. He was there. Watching us, the smile on his face never reaching his eyes.

He grabbed me in the confessional that week and kissed me. Hard. His hand fisted in my hair and murdering my mouth.

Like he used to.

I watched as the congregation slid to their knees and shot my eyes back to the dais. His eyes were on me, and I felt emboldened. I slipped my hand beneath my skirt and rubbed my pussy for a moment. I pulled my hand out and kept my eyes on him, putting my fingers to my mouth and sucking them. His eyes widened for a second and I thought I saw reciprocal heat in them before he turned his gaze away.

I watched him through the rest of mass, but his eyes never met mine again.

I waited until the rest of the congregation was filing out to leave my pew. Saying hello and making small talk with a few people here and there. I meandered my way to the end of the line and slowly made my way out. He grasped my hand and smiled at me, but the expression in his eyes made me shiver.

It was predatory.

“I would like you to come to my office,” he said as the last of his flock made their way towards their cars. “I want to discuss your attendance here.”

“Yes, father,” I said, casting my eyes down to try and dampen the excitement building between my thighs.

“Please,” he gestured back towards the church and started walking. I followed him through the sanctuary and to a small side door, stopping when he went through. The door closed behind him and I waited a few moments for him to return, knocking softly on the door when he didn’t.

“Come in and sit down, Tessa,” he said, his voice gruff. I moved towards the chair in front of his desk but he stopped me. “No, not on the chair.” He paced in front of his desk, his robes flowing behind him. “Dirty girls who taste themselves in church don’t sit in chairs. Kneel, Tessa. Kneel and take your penance.”

I instantly knelt in front of him and clasped my hands behind my back like I was taught to.

Like he taught me to.

He separated the front of his cassock and pulled his cock — his hard, throbbing cock — out and stroked it in front of my face. I licked my lips as I watched his hand move slowly back and forth, drops of pre-cum falling to the floor. He fisted his other hand in my hair and I opened my mouth instantly, covering my teeth with my lips and flattening my tongue in preparation for him, wondering at how easily I fell back in to sub mode.

He slid his cock slowly between my lips, moving his hands to the sides of my head, and proceeded to fuck my skull. I did my best to seal my lips around his magnificent antalya escort dick, while trying to lick his shaft. I longed to caress his thighs, to cup and squeeze and suck on his balls, but I kept my hands behind my back. I didn’t want to risk him stopping.

“That’s it, Tessa, take your penance. You dirty girl, getting the good father hard during mass. I bet you were thinking about this cock during my sermon, weren’t you,” he groaned. I made a noise of assent, not wanting his dick to leave my mouth long enough for me to utter one syllable. He started to fuck my face in earnest then, his thrusts becoming harder and irregular; he began speaking in Latin, prayers maybe, and I worked even harder to please him, feeling him swell between my lips and knowing my reward was around the corner.

Suddenly he pulled out, grabbing the base of his cock with one fist and holding my head back with his other fist in my hair. I whined, pulling against his hand to get him back in my mouth, salivating for him, desperate to taste his cum again.

“Not yet, Tessa. You have to ask for my blessing, my absolution.” I blinked up at him, not knowing what he wanted me to say. “Say ‘bless me father, for I have sinned’, and I might offer you absolution.”

I smiled softly, my eyes on his. “Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

“Again,” he said, rubbing his cock all over my cheeks and chin.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned.”


“Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

“Take your absolution, Tessa. Take every drop,” he grunted, shoving himself into my mouth again and thrusting. I moaned around the sudden invasion and sucked as well as I could.

“Fuck. Here it comes, Tessa. Swallow it all,” he said, holding my head steady as his cock began shooting his load in my mouth. I swallowed quickly, not wanting to waste a drop. I suckled at his cock as it shrank in my mouth, wanting to keep it there as long as possible.

“Rise,” he said as he pulled back from me, tucking his flaccid, but still beautiful, cock back into the folds of his cassock. He moved behind his desk and sat down.

I got to my feet easily, despite the aching emptiness in my pussy, and stood before the desk. He began going through paperwork, pulling a small bible out of the drawer and opening it to a pre-marked page.

“You may go, Tessa,” he said, not lifting his eyes to look at me. I stopped myself from leaping over the desk and grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted to look into his eyes and see that this wasn’t over. I wanted to see that this was only the beginning.

“Jack…,” I began, but he cut me off.

“I am quite busy, Tessa, so please, show yourself out,” he said, still not looking up at me. I bit back a sob and straightened myself out. I opened my mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say, so I closed it again.

I turned towards the door and pulled it open, moving stiffly as tears threatened. Just as I was about to cross the threshold his voice, dark and tinged with promise, stopped me momentarily.

“Don’t forget to come to confession, Tessa.”

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