The sanctuary was silent again, like it was so often. I was glad.
Soft midday light filtered through the stained glass. It cast colorful shadows on the mahogany pews. Birds flitted by outside, but little else disturbed the visual ambiance.
I paid none of it any mind.
I gathered the skirts of my habit and paced down the long aisle. My shoes sent echoes across the empty space. I reveled in the portents those lonely echoes broadcast, even as I cringed at the loud reports.
I took deep breaths, knowing what I was about to do. Again.
The confessional door was not heavy, but it always felt disproportionately substantial. I knew why, even if I chose not to admit it to myself.
Slipping inside, I sat on the bench.
“Welcome, my child.” Father Belton’s voice was deep and unerringly assertive. The wicker screen between us obscured his features but gave no doubts as to his presence.
In practiced fashion, I sunk to the confessional’s padded kneeler, spreading my monochrome habit about me.
“Forgive me, Father, for I am about to sin.”
Like so many times before, I heard the throaty growl of satisfaction. And, like so many times before, I waited through the scuffling sounds on the other side of the screen.
When they ended, I watched the discreet round port in the confessional’s hand-built wall slide open. It was not invisible, but no one without the proper foreknowledge would have reason to suspect that nondescript little circle of wood could move. But with it gone, the division between Father Belton and myself was no longer complete.
My body flushed, knowing precisely what was about to come through that hole. A now familiar warmth filled my belly. For the hundredth time, I wondered how I’d ever lived without that sensation. Instinctively, I gathered my skirts, opening the way, but waiting for the proper time.
Father Belton appeared. Or, rather, the important part of Father Belton appeared. It thrust through the confessional’s open portal, thick and fleshy. It angled slightly upward as if pointing toward the god I was so flagrantly defying.
“Confess your sins, Sister Vivian,” came the command from the other booth.
“Yes, Father.” My lips obeyed, enveloping this great sin, exploring it, savoring it. Father Belton’s voice groaned. My tongue obeyed next, wetly lathering the sin, probing it. It didn’t take long before all that great sinning hit my throat, gagging me and making my eyes water.
God, sinning was so wonderful!
I no longer bothered restraining my similarly sinful fingers. They sought out their target without conscious thought. Unlike on my rosary, down there my fingertips found only one important bead. The sudden touch caused an involuntary jolt from my body, momentarily forcing more sin into my throat.
With my mouth occupied as it was, I could not confess to Father Belton that I’d secretly bought forbidden undergarments. I had recently discovered crotchless panties on the internet and quietly ordered some, hoping the convent did not monitor computer use. It was rather laughable to call them panties at all – they were more a collection of strings with few little webs of lace strung between some of them. Critically, of course, they did not cover the most important parts of my immodesty.
And with nothing there to absorb it, my body’s anticipatory moisture had just been collecting at my opening. That gave me even more lubrication than usual, and my fingers slipped in and out without a thought, gliding along the devil’s doorbell all the while.
My moment of online weakness had not stopped at the panties, though. I wore a matching garter and an open shelf bra as well. I had admired my appearance in the mirror this morning – as I so often did, these days – and barely restrained the urge to attack my dirty regions then and there. My breasts stood round and proud, stiff nipples pointing at the harlot in the mirror. My tiny, freshly groomed patch of fuzz stood open to the air atop gartered stockings. The thongs I’d quietly worn for the last few months had made me look like a whore. This outfit pushed the look into full-on porn-star territory.
And nobody could ever know how much I loved feeling like a porn star.
My all-encompassing habit garment, of course, had to be worn over those undergarments any time I might be seen. I had gone about my morning duties – kneading dough for the day’s bread, mopping the convent floors – with not so much as a thread separating my attention-starved vagina from the air. The morning had been both enthralling and maddening.
Now I finally had my sinful prize between my lips, so I could let my fingers explore my other desperate lips. The squelching sound they made was not loud, but I still wondered if it would echo through the empty stone sanctuary. The same could be said for my messy slurps and Father Belton’s satisfied grunts. Yet, in the moment, I didn’t care.
Quite unbidden, an image pushed into my mind that we were not hiding in this tiny confessional but instead were out in the courtyard. All the nuns of the convent and all the city’s clergy surrounded us, proclaiming their disappointment over our transgressions but also egging us on, vicariously edging closer to their own repressed sexual fantasies. What a thrill it must be to swallow a man’s serpent in front of god and country wearing nothing but a porn star’s lingerie!
The mental image put me over the top and flooded my nethers with even more fluid. It dripped onto the stone floor and my throat moaned over the cock before me.
Cock! I didn’t often allow myself to think in such vulgarities. It was only in these desecrations of the holy confessional, when my mind had given way fully to its carnal underbelly, that I descended into such profanity. And it only heightened the pleasure.
The intensity of that pleasure was reflected in the speed of my slurps now. My head bobbed feverishly, knowing that the reward for my sins was coming soon.
“Yes, you sinful creature,” Father Belton’s voice was low, agonized from behind the wicker screen. “You will unleash corruption upon the world if you continue. Aahhhh…”
He moaned his pleasure, but did not lift his voice. It felt as though that energy went instead into the bulbous head of his cock, which engorged even further before releasing its vile corruption onto my waiting tongue. I slurped again and used my well-lubed hand to milk as much remaining cum from the cock as I could.
Father Belton waited the space of many heavy breaths before moving. The sinful snake before me slowly drooped and wilted. I gave it a final lick before it withdrew.
The tiny but glorious door slid shut and I heard the priest sit heavily on his bench. I did the same, sparing a glance at the visible drips on the stone floor below me.
Father Belton let out a final sighing breath. “You are indeed a sinful one, Sister Vivian. Fortunately, our lord is merciful. Because you are so forthright and sincere, I am confident the lord has heard your requests for forgiveness. By his word, I forgive you of your transgressions. I pronounce this in the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“As penance, I want you to say thirty Hail Marys before the alter and join the rosary this evening. And I hope you will continue to confess your sins regularly, Sister Vivian.”
“Yes, Father, I will.” I opened the confessional’s wooden door. Oh yes, I will, indeed.
Making my way to the pews to profess my penance, Sister Mary-Lucia passed by. We gave each other respectful nods, though her eyes lingered on my face a moment longer than normal.
I reached up after she’d passed to discover a droplet of white sin beside my lip. My heart jumped – could she know what it was? I discretely licked my finger clean and knelt for my prayers.
As the confessional door latched behind Sister Mary-Lucia, I heard her voice, faint but unmistakable. “Forgive me, Father, for I am about to sin.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/ysvvan/forgive_me_father_for_i_am_about_to_sin_fm_bj
Love this! More, I pray. ;)