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Tossing your head back, you undulate your hips over Father Roger’s hard cock. His clerical collar has hardly moved since he started pounding into you, and only a few stray wisps of his golden hair have shifted out of place, clinging to his sweaty forehead.
How did you end up here, your cunt squeezing his veiny length so snuggly, your ass bouncing on his muscular thighs as lewd whines escape your throat, your tits jiggling as they press against his solid chest?
What a mess.
You came here to end this madness. Instead you ended up coming all over Father Roger’s pristine clerical robe.
This can’t go on…
Steve, I’m serious…
If my husband finds out…
But all your meek protests withered when Father Rogers bent you over his desk and lifted your dress, teasing you for how shamefully wet you already were. 'Do you really want this to end Angel? This wet little cunt says something different.’
You hate the way you melt, turning into a limp rag of overly sensitive nerve endings whenever he touches you.
You’re weak. It’s why Father Rogers has his way with you every time.
The priest purrs, his tongue stealing your lips in a ravenous kiss.
After he fucked you roughly on his desk, he picked up your prone, panting frame and sat on the chair behind his desk, sheathing you on his cock again.
"You feel so good around me, angel. So perfect. You really are God’s gift to me," he grunts, his hand, warm and large and soft, bunching up your prim church dress and roaming over your hips. He grabs a handful of ass, smiling crookedly as you whimper.
When a hitch-pitched mewl unfurls from your throat after a particularly sharp snap of his hips, he shoves his fingers in your mouth with his other hand. You gag around his fingers, moaning quietly as he steadies you on his lap.
Father Steve’s bright blue eyes glint with mischief.
"Much as I love hearing those noises, gotta be quiet, angel," he rasps, his plump lips traveling the column of your neck. His baritone drops, intimate and teasing. "Wouldn’t want Sister Natasha to hear you…"
You nod dumbly.
The sister tosses suspicious glances your way every time you enter Father Steve’s office. It’s a miracle she hasn’t caught you and the priest lost in the dizzying waves of bliss already.
She might be lurking outside his office right now, ears peeled for anything out of the ordinary. It wouldn’t surprise you.
So despite the way Steve’s taut flesh grazing along your sweets spots engulfs your mind in a lustful daze, you stifle each sob and whimper.
"How did you like the service, angel?" he asks. The words sluggishly sink inside your sex-addled brain. When you don’t reply, he wrenches your chin and squeezes it. You keen at the painful pressure of his rough fingers on your jaw.
"I…liked it..f-fine," you murmur between heavy pants.
Steve sniggers. His head slants, his brow arching upwards.
"Really? So you were completely focused on God’s word, angel?" His hand releases your jaw to wander beneath your dress. He flicks at your pebbled nipple through the lace of your bra. You chew on your lip to trap the needy whine on the dangerous cusp of spilling out. "Not thinking of my cock ruining your tight little pussy?" The filthy words whispered against your ear by his deep, silky voice make you clench around him more. The priest groans.
Wicked fingers crawl down to where your bodies are joined, teasing your swollen heap of nerves, twirling and pressing the soft flesh. Heat courses through you as your lids flutter quickly. You gasp. Electricity courses through your spine. Your back curls, your slick walls spasming as you reach yet another climax around his dick.
He draws a squeal from you when he pinches the flesh of your ass with a lopsided smirk.
"Lying is a sin, angel," he says, the pace of his hips rising. Your breath falters, your nails burying in his back. Father Steve licks his lips, his orbs darkening. "I should spread you over my lap and spank you as punishment."
Another orgasm rushes through you with the warning. A throaty sigh unfurls from the priest’s chest as you squirm on his lap.
Father Steve hums. The desire etched in his half-lidded gaze echoes through you and you tremble. His hands find your waist and tighten possessively.
"Or maybe I’ll have you on your knees and…"
A series of gentle knock interrupts the priest. Your eyes widen in panic, your heartbeat skyrocketing. You freeze, and so does he. Though instead of terror gracing his features, only annoyance can be found there, a deep scowl creasing his features.
You try to scramble off him but his grip on you is firm.
"Don’t move."
"But Steve…"
His face hardens, the command lacing his tone making your lip shudder.
"Father," he corrects sternly.
"Father," you repeat, tears pressing at the back of your eyes.
"Get under the desk." His cold tone spills ice in your veins.
Humiliation tickles your insides. Your face burns. Your voice quavers as you reply, "Please, father…"
He tuts in disapproval and frames your chin. Goosebumps spread across your skin. His harsh gaze pins you on your spot.
A cruel smile tilts his plump, pink lips.
"Do you want everyone in this town to know what a filthy little whore you are, angel?" he inquires. Your chest twinges as his words settle over you. Of course, you don’t want that. If anyone knew about this, you’d be shunned. It wouldn’t just affect you. It would affect your family. Your husband. Your children. Scandals like this never quite die in quiet little towns. You’d be marked for life with a stain you can never erase. And Father Steve is well aware of that, everything you stand to lose. The smug knowledge is carved on his handsome features. He bends closer to your ear, caressing your cheek as he whispers, "I’ll make sure to tell all of them how well you screamed and begged for my cock." He cups your jaw as you let out muted, quivering sobs. "Don’t make me repeat myself, angel."
You nod and awkwardly climb down his lap, sinking to your knees under the desk. Shame swallows you whole as you crouch down against Steve’s strong legs. You’ve never been lower, figuratively and literally. One of his hands remains buried in your coils, urging you to remain hidden but close.
The priest turns the chair and leans forward, arranging his slightly rumpled hair and straightening his robe.
"Come in," he says, his baritone carrying across the office.
You hold your breath when the door opens, biting down hard on your lip to avoid uttering a sound that’d give you away.
"I'm so sorry to disturb you, Father Rogers. I just didn’t know who else to turn to."
Your heart drops. The world tilts around you, off its axis. Just like you. Though you’re on the floor already, it’s as if you fell from up high.
Kyle. No. It can’t be.
Why is Kyle here?
He’s supposed to be home watching the kids.
…While you’re supposed to be at the market. Instead, you’re here, trapped between Father Steve’s thighs after trying and failing to end things with him again.
The flames of hell seem to lick your skin at the sound of your husband’s familiar voice. Fresh tears swell in your eyes.
Steve chuckles warmly.
"Nonsense, my child. My door’s always open to fervent Christians. Sit." Your chin trembles. You try to shrink further away from Steve, as far as the tiny space allows, but he grips the back of your neck, effortlessly keeping you between his thighs. "You and your wife haven’t missed a service since I’ve taken up my duties."
You hear the smile in the priest’s voice. He grabs your jaw, tugging you closer to his crotch. He nudges the swollen, flush head of his cock along your sealed lips. Your pulse races.
Kyle sighs. "Well, there were times she didn’t want us to go, but I insisted. My parents had the same tradition. It’s not much, but it’s a way to keep their spirits with us, I guess."
You shake your head as Steve keeps pressing his scarlet tip, smearing precum along the rim of your lips. As your husband recollects about fond childhood memories, Steve coaxes your mouth open with two thumbs on your cheeks.
"Sunday mass every Sunday morning. Never missed a Sunday," your husband chimes. More of Father Steve’s thick girth enters your mouth. Breathing through your nose, you let his hard flesh glide over your tongue. "Besides, you breathed new life into this parish. How can we not come when everyone in town can’t stop raving about you, father?"
Hollowing your cheeks, you swirl your tongue over the underside of his length. He cradles your face and his tip hits the back of your throat. You stifle your cry. You have to be quiet. You can’t make a sound. What would you do if your husband found you beneath the desk, your mouth stuffed with the priest’s cock?
"Well, it’s my pleasure, my child. I’m glad I could help your wife come."
Steve strokes beneath your jaw, softly pumping himself in and out of your mouth with shallow thrusts.
"Is something bothering you, son?" Steve inquires, a facsimile of genuine concern dripping from his tone.
"I…I’m a bit embarrassed to talk about it, father," Kyle replies. He sounds dejected and your heart plummets.
"God doesn’t cast judgement upon his devout followers," Steve says. His balls tickle your face, the corners of your mouth almost splitting at his size. The priest pauses and you get a glimpse of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down when he takes a deep breath. His face is a bit flushed as he smiles at your husband. Father Steve’s voice is raspier, more breathless when he speaks again. "He only seeks to wrap each of us in his loving embrace and shower us with that love."
"Thank you, father. I knew I could trust you." Guilt burns your insides at his words. "My wife…she hasn’t been the same lately. We don’t talk as much as we used to. And I know with the kids, it’s hard to get in the mood but…we haven’t had sex in three months." Steve’s knuckles sweep the side of your face in a silent praise as you lie your tongue flat to take him better. "It’s like she doesn’t want me to touch her. I don’t know what I did that was so wrong..."
Your throat is full of Steve. He grabs your head, using you as a fleshlight as you choke on his length. Your vision blurs, unspilled tears flooding your eyes.
The priest’s lids flutter momentarily. He then sighs, tossing your husband a stern glare.
"Did you stray from her, my child?"
"No…no! I’d never cheat on my wife," Kyle blurts out. He then adds fondly, "She and the kids are everything to me. I love her more than anything in the entire world."
Your heart shatters, again. But you can’t focus on Kyle, not when the forceful shoves of Father Steve’s cock in your mouth have all your attention.
"How sweet," Steve purrs.
"So, what should I do, father?"
There’s a pause during which Steve’s eyes close and he unleashes a heavy exhale. His dick twitches on your tongue.
"Time," the priest says after a while.
"Time?" Kyle asks.
Steve nods, his lips tight as a small smirk twists his plump lips.
"Time heals all wounds. Be patient and your wife will find her way where she rightfully belongs." His honeyed, sickeningly patronizing timbre makes your clit pulse and you hate yourself for it. His knee grazes your nipple and it hardens at the light touch. Your breath stutters. Your legs rub together, wetness growing in your core.
He’s so close and you can feel it, how heavy and full and throbbing he is on your tongue. The hot pit of shame nside you expands.
"Are you sure, father?"
Father Steve chuckles, licking his lips. His chest heaves, his shoulders sagging. Satisfaction lights up the priest’s face as he spills himself on your tongue. You struggle to swallow it all, Steve’s fingers holding you still as ropes of his seed pour down your throat.
"Oh, I’m overflowing with certainty." A mess of spit and cum drips down your chin, mingling with your tears. Steve softly caresses the side of your face. "In fact, I’m sure if she could hear this, she’d be weeping tears of joy."