Connor
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…" I whisper, but the only answer I get is the echo of my own words. "I screwed up… I really did," I continue to whisper, closing my eyes and laying my forehead over my folded hands. I’m kneeling inside the confessionary and, even though there’s no one in here with me, it still feels good to let it all out.
I believe in confession; I think it does a man good to air out his sins and let some sunshine into his soul. But I never believed in confessing to another man; my sins are between me and God, and I don’t like to share them with a third party. Despite what some people might say, I don’t think that when it comes to your relationship with God, you need a middleman.
And that’s exactly why I’m alone right now.
That’s also what I need—to be alone. Ever since I got here I’ve been making mistake after mistake. How could I have let things progress to such a state? I’ve fucked Clarise in a chapel and in a church. How can I even call myself a man of God? I’ve crossed a line and, more than anything else, I’m disappointed with myself.
This is why I’m confessing; I’ve spent three months repressing all these feelings, but I just can’t do it anymore. No, these feelings are gripping my heart so tightly that I can’t even think straight. I had to let it all out, even if the only way to do it was to confess to an empty wall.
I thought I was stronger… I thought I was the kind of man to whom temptation meant nothing. But, of course, I had never met a woman like Clarise. How was I even supposed to resist her advances? I might be a spiritual guy, but I sure as hell am not holy.
To make matters worse, I know that all I need to do is look into Clarise’s eyes for her to come after me. And, from there, it’s only a matter of time until I pin her against the wall and rip the clothes off her body. Her delicious, sweet, body. Everything in her seems to have been designed by God’s hand itself—her perky breasts, her rosy nipples, the delicious mound between her thighs… Just thinking of that is enough to make me rock hard.
Jesus, I’m so lost that I --
I stop thinking when I see a shadow moving on the other side of the confessionary. There’s a wooden panel separating the confessee from the confessor, and so I can’t see who has just sat down on the other side; all is can see is … her shadow.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," I hear Clarise’s voice coming from the other side, and my heart jumps inside my chest so hard that I can almost feel it beating in my throat.
"Clarise, what are you doing?" I hiss, raising my head and looking straight at the panel separating us.
"What does it look like? Confessing my sins, of course," she whispers, and the sweet sound of her voice makes me run my tongue between my lips with anticipation.
"I’m not a priest, Clarise, I can’t --"
"You don’t need to be a priest. God will forgive me, or not. All I want is for someone to hear my confession," she continues and, even though I know it must be a trap, I simply can’t make my body respond to the frightened commands of my brain. As such, I keep my knees on the padded support underneath me, swallowing hard as I feel a feverish warmness taking over my body.
"Confess then," I find myself saying, straining to get the words out.
"I’ve met a man…" she starts, her words coming out more like a purr than a whisper. "And I’ve sinned with that man. I’ve offered him my body and he took it…"
"You shouldn’t have done it," I tell her, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. I’m not sure what kind of game we’re playing right now, but one thing I know: it’s not going to end well.
"But I wanted to… My mind wanted it, my body wanted it. And, even though he said he didn’t want it, he did." Even though I can’t see her face right now, I can tell that there’s a grin on her face. She’s enjoying this. She knows that she’s teasing me, and she’s enjoying every single second of it.
"How did you know he wanted it?"
"Because… A man might be able to lie with his mouth, but he can’t lie with his cock." The word cock feels so out of place in the chapel that I almost wince at the sound of it; but, at the same time, I feel warm blood rushing down between my thighs, making my cock twitch inside my boxer briefs.
"And that cock…" she continues, "oh, I’ve sinned in all manners with it. I’ve had it in my mouth, I’ve had it in my pussy… and every time I did it, I felt more alive than I've ever felt. I can’t think of anything else, Father. I dream of it every night, and I ache for that man to be by my side when I wake up."
My cock has already graduated from twitching, now it’s hardening with each and every word that comes out of Clarise’s mouth. It strains hard against my pants and, if she doesn’t shut up real quick, it might rip its way out.
"You should try to let go of all that," I tell her, but deep down I don’t want her to listen to me. No, I want her to keep chasing and lusting after me… And I want to think of her waking up in her bed, her pussy so wet that her panties stick to her body.
"What if I can’t let go?" she asks me and by now my cock is already as hard as concrete. I can’t even think straight.
Clarise’s right; a man might lie with his words, but he can’t do it with his cock. And, right now, my cock is being as truthful as it has ever been.
"If you can’t let go … you’ll have to pay your penance."