Author: tiger_tiger6

“So, tell me about your week.”

The soft light of late November filtered in through the windows. Bass lines floated through the air, hinting at some event occurring across campus.

She lay on the couch, her soft, plump, tanned legs slipping up and away beneath a short skirt. Knee-high socks accentuated her gifts, her tight top cupped and brandished her chest.

I caught myself staring again, then looked away, crossing my legs and refocusing on my notes. ‘Nymphomaniac’ had been written and underlined several times.

“I think I did a little better, sir.”

“Melissa, you don’t have to call me that.”

She said nothing, then continued. “I only slept with my roommate’s boyfriend once.”

I restrained a sigh. “That’s an improvement. How many times did you sleep with him last week?”

“Four. Five if you count blowjobs.”

“Do you think we should count those?”

“…Yeah, I guess. He’s just so horny, and she never gives him any pussy. I feel so…just so bad for him. He’s a nice guy. He deserves to feel good, doesn’t he?”

“…I’m not sure I’m the one to answer that.”

She sighed. Read more »

Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/x16hcw/the_celibate_priest_saves_the_village_m31f35/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3

—

​

“You’re being childish, Father.”

…

“You can’t hide in there forever, you know. Eventually you’ll need to eat.”

…

Sophia Caladena stood on the stonework outside of the priest’s wooden door wielding a basket of her own home cooking. A small blanket covered it and the two bottles of wine she’d hidden below the bounty. It was a hot day, the sun shone down through the trees and their leaves ringing the old temple. The rain from the night of their first encounter had entirely dried, leaving no trace. She thought of the rain…the storm…

“Father, do you intend to neglect your duties as priest of this village? To cower away in there forever? I thought men of God were made of sterner stuff.”

…Footsteps, faint and quiet approached the door from the other side.

Sophia smiled.

On the other side of the door, Father Marcos Vilpena grimaced. She was right, of course. His bread had run out yesterday, his stomach already wrenching and growling in protest. He looked around. He couldn’t hide in here forever, but…nor could he go outside, and face the…women. Read more »

Woe. Dark days behind and before us. A village, my village wracked with grief.

Woe.

The storm took everything. Not everything. Not everyone.

Maglin is a small village clinging to an inhospitable island from which it takes its name. Fishing is, was the only industry keeping the blood flowing through the town, but…

All the village’s men were out, even the young apprentices. It was a freak, a rogue thing tearing up from the South on an unseasonable current, on a rare wind. It broke upon the island first, sending shutters flying and flooding basements. The chill that ran through us that day was not for ourselves, but for the men in all of those boats who had set out for the yearly bounty.

None returned.

Our loss, our terrible loss was not a hammer blow, but the letting of air. We, all of us collapsed, devoid of hope, of joy.

As I preside over the final funeral without a corpse, the women of Maglin, clad in black and black veils descend the long stair back down to the village hugging the water’s edge. I am alone outside my little temple whose aged walls offer no shelter from the cold. It is a hot day, yet I remark, as I stand in the Sun, that I feel no warmth. Read more »

It had taken a week or two or constant attention, reinforcement, but we had finally fallen into a routine. Kelly had proven to be tougher, more willful than I’d imagined. Perhaps I’d been hoping for the best. It had been difficult, true, but the hardwork, the determination, the drive had all paid off.

I hummed a little as I left my office, heading for the girl’s locker room, already nude, a towel over my shoulder. If someone discovered me now, seeing me like this, my life would be over. I smiled. There was something thrilling about that risk, that possibility. I rode the razor’s edge as I approached the locker room door. I could already hear the shower running, our shower running. I sighed in satisfaction.

I pushed open the door.

“Coach? Coach, I’m serious. Not tonight.”

More ritual. More pageantry. I assumed this little show Kelly put on every night soothed some part of her that needed to resist me. It was fine, she always shut up by my third thrust.

“Coach! I’m not kidding!”

I pad through the locker room. The place is a mess. Towels and waterbottles and trash all over the place. No respect. It was a shame. I shook my head, then took the corner into the showers. Read more »

Light. Sound. The air in my lungs vibrated as I squeezed my way through the press of people. I was blind, in a way, not because I couldn’t see, but because there was too much to see. Lights, laser lights, glitter, reflections, bodies, skin, hair, tits, ass, legs, arms, faces. So many faces. They blurred together.

I rubbed hand over my face, it felt…numb? Not numb, stretched? What the fuck?

I blinked, trying to focus. I took a deep breath. My lungs felt…big? Hollow. They were hollow. What?

…Fucking asshole. That fucking asshole. An anger springs up and spreads its arms through my body, my neck. Fucking piece of shit. Of course. Of course this fucking happens to me.

I blinked hard to steady myself as whatever drug that piece of shit had given me instead of the one I’d asked for washed through my blood. Ride it out. Just have to ride it out. What? A few hours. I…can…

…A light springs through my skin, my muscles, it’s…whatever it is, it feels so fucking good. I’m melting, standing there as waves of sound thunder through my body. I’m drowning in velvety fire, a big stupid grin spreads over my face, before I can focus again. And focus I do. Read more »