Warning – if you are a devout Christian, you might not want to read this fictional tale, because it may contain concepts that will offend your beliefs. Sinners prevail!
I glanced up during my conversation with Gill – you were looking right at me again. Your hair was falling over your left eye, you lifted your hand, swept it aside and smiled. Grinning directly at me. I didn’t dare smile back – surly you would tell me off, after all, we were meant to be concentrating on a psalm we had been given to read. But you are gorgeous – young – a priest.
The Catholic youth club retreat ended and we all piled into the minibus to go home. In bed that night I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your eyes, your smile… your cock. I knew that sexual relationships were forbidden to a Catholic priest like you. Of course, you must wank – your hand feeling for your cock in the dead of the night. Stroking, then firmly jerking the skin forward and back. With this thought in my mind, I put my hand down the front of my pyjama bottoms and felt for my clitoris. Rubbing slowing and gently at first, but then the thought of you shooting your load into your bed sheets made me speed up my caress. Soon my hips swung forward and I got the release I needed.
My boyfriend was at the retreat too. He would have been so jealous if he knew you were looking at me, more so if he found out I was thinking of you while masturbating. He fucked me last night in the back of his car. Same as usual hard, fast and quick – in case anyone came down the lane and found us. I am on the pill but we used a condom to save cleaning up the mess. I’m seventeen and lost my virginity to him about 6 months ago. Did you see in my eyes that I am not pure anymore? Is that why you singled me out to receive your smile?
The next morning, you were the first thing that entered my mind. I couldn’t believe my luck when during assembly Sister Celia announced that anyone considering a life as a nun was to come to her office at lunchtime, as a special workshop would be held at the priory in the Easter break.
There were only three of us out of the whole sixth form. I have to say Sister Celia looked at me suspiciously,
“Christina, are you sure you are in the right place? You do understand this workshop is for those with a serious calling?”
I replied, “Oh yes Sister, my calling came last night.” In my head I visualised you touching your cock as I climaxed before I fell asleep.
I counted down those days until I saw you. Twenty days became ten, each crossed out on my calendar. Then the greatly anticipated date arrived – the day I would see your smile again.
I yawned my way through nearly a whole day of church services and tutorials about philosophy until it was your turn. You had the job of telling us what it was like dedicating your life to god.
I watched your mouth move as you talked, very aware that your eyes moved back to me at every possible chance. Each time you glanced my way I felt my cunt contract and the surrounding lips getting wetter and wetter, dampening my panties.
At the end of the day, you invited any of us with questions to stay behind, looking over at me. I raised my hand and said I had some questions regarding celibacy. I waited while the others left the room.
Finally, it was just the two of us alone. I was nervous and you could tell. We sat down opposite each other, you in your floor-length black cassock, me in my school kilt and blouse. You reached in the desk and took out some communion wine and poured us a measure each. I noticed your glass was slightly cracked on one side. As you handed me mine one of your fingers brushed my hand making my stomach lurch.
We talked and laughed and you said I could tell you anything. I asked about celibacy and how a priest or nun managed to abstain. You said it was a hard decision to make and one you found very difficult.
It was then you asked if I had ever had sex. I told you I had but was relatively inexperienced. I think because of that you felt I was mature, capable of reasoning and understanding. You said you loved your vocation but every day it was becoming harder to deny your sexual needs. You were a man who loved to touch, to feel, to take in smells and tastes. You’d had one sexual encounter before being ordained and it played on your mind continually. Keeping you awake at night, leading you to sweat and turn and yes, literally toss.
We sipped our wine. I was feeling a little overwhelmed at your confessions but also flattered that you were turning to me. You began to get quite passionate in your speech, leaning forward you put your hand on my knee. I immediately reacted and opened my legs slightly. The scent of my cunt reached the air, we both smelt it.
Sitting in front of me you said my name – the tone rang in the air, I looked at you with wide eyes, as if trapped in a headlight. As you smiled you lifted your hand and touched my mouth. Such a pretty mouth – you sang – that’s how it sounded to me – like music.
With one hand still touching my lips, you reached under your cassock with the other. I didn’t dare look. I stared straight back into your eyes.
Your pupils were dilated and your focus seemed distracted from me. I looked down. Your hand was encompassing your cock – your perfectly formed and sized cock.
I looked back into your stern gaze. You answered my questioning eyes with one word.
“Kneel”, you implored.
I leaned forward and my knees touched the red carpeted floor. Without encouragement, you put your hand behind my head and pressed it down towards your cock.
The tip of your knob was there in my eye line, I involuntarily clenched my cunt as you let out a moan and nudged my head nearer. If I was going to stop this, now was the time, but my bottom lip had found its place, resting on your blood-swollen, shiny knob, dressed with pre-cum. I didn’t need any more assistance.
My mouth engulfed your penis. You were not quiet in your delight muttering the words,
I relaxed my throat and let you push up so your cock was submersed in my mouth completely. You held my hair and thrust my head up and down as I face fucked your organ. I pulled back, mouth splattering, eyes watering and looked up into yours. You said,
“Do it for Jesus.”
Glancing over your shoulder I could see a crucifix, and asked you if what we were doing was a sin.
You replied, “Why should we call ourselves sinners? This is a joyous gift you are giving me,”
To obscure my vision from the holy artefacts you pulled your cassock up and over me, so I became encased in a tent of darkness. My fingers lightly stroked your balls, whilst my tongue circled your circumference. I ran my fingertips gently up and down the length of you, put pressure on your shaft and slowly began tugging your skin back and forth – increasing friction as your cock became more engorged. Your joy was auditory, and all at once you loudly spurted your load over my face and hand, with some drops falling back onto your splendidly sculpted stomach and thighs.
You pulled the cassock up and I was free to breath. Looking at me you touched the spunk on my face and then produced a hanky from your pocket. All the while searching my face you wiped the spunk away saying,
“You filthy girl.”
Pointing to the soiled area on your body you then ordered me to, “lick up the mess you have made Christina, clean me up with your tongue.”
I did, conscious of my own juices soaking my knickers, yearning for your hand.
Once I had finished you said, “That’s all for today but I would like you to come next week for some further lessons in the scriptures.”
I thought to myself – yes I think it is my turn to come next week.
You stroked my hair and showed me the door.
Next day at school Sister called me to her office and asked if I thought the life of a nun was for me.
“It will suit me perfectly” I replied, remembering the slightly bitter salty taste of your cum on my lips.
The book I am reading is – The Go Between by L.P Hartley and the line I have chosen to create this fictional story around is on page 69.
Why should we call ourselves sinners?
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