midnight mass

forgive me father, for i have sinned

I knew wrong like the back of my hand.

It followed me like a moth to flame, like I was a treasure it couldn't resist grabbing. Wrong wanted me and I wanted it. Every decision, every thought, every dream I had was wrapped in sin, sin that coiled around my throat and filled my lungs.

The first day I saw Father Paul I knew that wrong had come for me once again.

Wrong it certainly was, the way I wanted him, a priest, for god's sake.

I've never really been religious myself. I went to church to keep my mother happy, to keep the people of this shithole town from talking. But I think he knew, perhaps he saw it in my eyes, like he saw that Leeza could walk in hers, that I wasn't in it. Saw it in my eyes that I didn't truly believe, that first mass when he came in and preached like he knew exactly what everyone wanted to hear.

He caught me after it, despite my attempt at a speedy escape, no priest, no matter how hot, could keep me in there a second longer than I needed to be, and asked me. Asked me, of course with my parents there, so I couldn't refuse.

"Can I help you believe?"

So, we met up. Again and again, each time more dreadful than the last. Him, sitting there trying to get me to listen to his words about the gospel, trying to get me to care about his stories of miracles and forgiveness. Me, sitting across from him, trying to pretend I wasn't staring at his hands. Trying to pretend I wasn't wet from his melodic voice and imagining the cross resting on his chest dangling in my face.

Over and over, we met up, my control slipping with each gentle brush on my shoulder as I left, ignoring the shake of my hands as I pulled the door handle. I'd furiously rub my cunt when I got home, desperately trying to think of anything but him, to no avail, until one day I couldn't take it anymore.

The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I approached Saint Patrick's, and my breath came out shaky as I reached the door.

I asked Erin earlier and she told me Father was always here for confessions on Wednesdays.

So I came.

The church was silent when I walked in, wearing a dress, a casual one, probably too short to be considered holy. The air smelled of dust as always and the sunlight streaming through the windows heated my face.

Father Paul was sitting in the front pew and he turned as the door behind me slammed shut.

"A lovely surprise to see you here, dear," he smiled slightly and my knees went a little weak, "What brings you?"

"I need to confess." I stated simply, trying to sound confident, but my voice shook.

His eyebrows jumped up.

"Another interesting surprise," his voice has almost a comedic lilt to it, and he breathed harshly out of his nose, "but a welcome one of course. Please, come." 

He stood and beckoned me to the confessional box. My hands were sweating in my jacket pockets as I stepped into my side and he slipped into his.

"I don't exactly know how this works," I tried to joke, my nerves taking hold of me, sitting in the confessional, " I've never confessed before."

"Just say what you need to and take your time." he stated, as if it was simple, saying what I was about to.

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

I breathed in a shaky breath.

"I've been having sexual thoughts about somebody I shouldn't."

I heard a sharp intake of breath beside me.

"Sexual thoughts are a natural part of being human," he started, "We all experience them at some point in our lives. Lusting after one person cannot be more of a sin than lusting after another. What makes you think it's more of a sin to lust after this person?"

My heartbeat was beating so hard in my chest I thought it might jump out. I couldn't keep my knee from bouncing up and down.

"He's a priest."

There was a harsh thump in the compartment beside me that made me jump in my seat. All that could be heard in the church was the sound of our harsh breathing.

"Y/n," his voice sounded strained, like he was holding back something, holding back words, "What are you trying to do here?"

"I'm just trying to confess my sins, Father," my hand crept up my thigh to the edge of my dress and I pushed it up my hips, exposing my panties, "I've been having such trouble trying to control my urges, I thought you would be able to help me see the light."

I allowed a hand to sneak into my panties and I gathered some wetness from my cunt to circle around my clit. I breathed out a low moan of pleasure and I heard another thump from Father Paul's side.

"And these urges," he started, and I heard a zipper being undone, the rustling of fabric, accompanied by a low hiss that had my fingers in my underwear circling faster, "What exactly do they entail?"

"Well," I cut myself off with a loud gasp as I allowed a finger to enter my wet cunt, "My most frequent urge is to drop on my knees right in front of him."

A low curse. A fast, steady wet up-and-down sound.

"I imagine he might try to tell me that he can't, but he's so pent up that he can't help himself and gives in. I imagine him using that damn cross chain to choke me while he fucks me from behind. I imagine him bending me over his knee to punish me for my sins."

I had both my hands in my underwear now, one circling my clit, the other pumping in and out of my pussy. Moans and gasps from both of us filled the otherwise silent church.

"I think about his fingers fucking me open, all while I beg and plead for his cock. I want him to take me right on his pedestal, so the whole church knows what a slut I am. I want him to spread me out and fuck me, for the eyes of god to see." 

He growled so harsh and low beside me I saw stars. 

"Do you think there's any hope for me, Father?" I gasped out through gritted teeth.

"You are a menace, Y/n," his voice was deep and guttural, out of breath, and the noise of him jacking off sped up, "Fuck. Even sluts like you can find repentance."

That was it for me. My legs shook as I came, letting out whimpers as it hit me so hard I almost didn't notice the thump and deep groan as Father came beside me.

I gulped up deep breaths as I came down from my high and for a second I grinned a manic smile. I had done it.

"Thank you so much for your help, Father," I spoke as I pulled my dress back down over my ass, "I feel so much better. Do you think I could come back if I feel I need to repent my urges again."

He let out a humorless laugh.

"The church is always open to those in need."

I licked my fingers clean as I walked out of Saint Patrick's with my legs weak.

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I know nothing about the Catholic Church so this was odd. I also didn't mean to start this book with some sexy shit but I had the idea and couldn't stop myself. Any comments + likes are appreciated!!!