Sunday morning dawned, and Pia woke with a knowing smile playing across her lips. It was almost time for church.
She took special care getting ready, carefully selecting just the right dress. The fabric clung to her curves in all the right places as she twirled in front of the mirror, admiring how it hugged her ample breasts and flared at her hips. It was modest enough, but left just enough to the imagination, hinting at the delights concealed beneath.
Pia arrived at the old stone church as the bells rang out, summoning the faithful. She slid into a pew near the back, her eyes already seeking out Father Michael. His eyes met hers and he returned a small, secret smile, their weekly ritual well-established now. After mass concluded, he would hear her confession, but not in the traditional way.
When the congregation filed out, Pia lingered, biding her time. Finally, she made her way to the confessional, her heart already racing in anticipation. Inside the small, dim space, she knelt on the plush red velvet before the ornate screen.
“Pardon me father, for I have sinned,” she murmured, her voice low and breathy. The screen creaked as he shifted.
“What sins do you confess, my child?” His voice was rich, tinged with knowing full well what was to come.
Pia reached through the slot, her fingers brushing against his throbbing erection straining his trousers. “I have a purity of heart and cleanness of body, but my flesh is weak, priest. I crave absolution.”
“Rise, my child.”
She did, facing him, a wanton smile on her face. Father Michael’s eyes raked over her body, drinking in her form. Pia undressed slowly, unveiling her figure to his gaze. “I am unworthy,” she breathed. “I need your holy cock to cleanse me of my impurities.”
The priest stood, pushing his pants down to free his thick member. It bobbed before her, hard and ready. Pia sank to her knees, wrapping her fingers around his girth. “Holy spirit, descend upon me,” she moaned, taking him into the warm wetness of her mouth. Her lips stretched around him as she began to worship him with her tongue, suckling his flesh like a woman possessed.
Above her, Father Michael bit back a groan, one hand coming to rest atop her head encouragingly. “That’s it, my child. Find peace through acceptance of the lord’s rod,” he murmured.
Pia sucked him with abandon, their sordid ritual played out in secret and shadow. She loved the taste of him, the weight of him on her tongue. She needed this absolution, this defiant sin, every week. They both did.
She took him deep, gagging slightly as he touched the back of her throat. Tears pricked her eyes but she persisted, bobbing her head faster. The confession booth was not built for fornication. His groans filled the small space. Pia could feel his balls tightening and she knew he was close.
“Give yourself to the holy one,” she gasped around him.
With a muffled shout, Father Michael spent himself down her eager throat. Pia swallowed it down, every last drop of his sacred seed. She released him and licked her lips, savoring his essence.
“I absolve you,” he panted, even as she gathered her clothes. Pia dressed quickly, stole a final glance at him, then slipped out into the bright sunlight. Another purifying ritual complete.
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