Disclaimer: I wrote this story based on a simple challenge from a friend and fellow writer who gave me characters and a setting. It inadvertently became a bit of a spinoff of another series I’ve been writing, but can still be read and (hopefully) enjoyed by itself.

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As father Richard Simon did his rounds for the night, he reflected on the journey that had brought him to the modest Midwest church of St. Matthew’s. He knew from early on that the church was his calling, and enrolled in seminary as soon as he was able. Once he graduated and received his ordination, he was sent here.

The community was small and close knit, and overall the job was a bit…quieter than he prepared for. But if this is where he was called to serve, then it must be God’s plan.

As he began going through each row, making sure the bibles and hymnals were fully stocked behind the seats, he thought back to his first sermon before the congregation. He was sure he was the youngest priest the community had ever seen by their bemused  and skeptical looks, but he felt that his sermon quelled any doubts they might have of him. He did notice something else though, try as he might to ignore it. More than a few of the wives in the congregation regarded him with a certain…hunger in their eyes. Father Simon knew he was an attractive man, and that in order to stay true to his vows, he would have to face temptations such as these. He just didn’t realize how difficult that would be.

Being such a small community meant that the people had to contend with boredom however they could. And it seemed like these women regarded his sudden appearance in their lives as a sort of game. They began dressing less…modest than would be expected in a church. While Father Simon tried to focus on delivering his sermons, he had to constantly fight his own human instincts to notice the exposed thighs, the overflowing cleavage, the coy smiles of the married women in his flock. The most aggressive of them, one Mrs. Andrea Hillerson, made this task especially difficult. She was fond of wearing skimpy sundresses to mass, of sitting in the front row. Father Simon tried to push the memory of today’s service out of his head, but the blood rushing between his legs and making his black pants taught forced his mind into sin: she had looked right at him, bit her lip, and spread her legs just enough for the bright pink fabric of her panties to be fully visible (was it a thong? His heart told him it was) before recrossing her legs. Father Simon stumbled in the middle of his sermon, forgetting what he was saying. He couldn’t help but notice how proud this seemed to make her, even if her obese husband sitting next to her couldn’t divine why. And he couldn’t forget the curious sensation he had felt when he caught her gaze, like a shadow passing over the sun. 

A clap of thunder roused father Simon from his revere, and he noticed the patter of rain as it began to fall on the roof of the church. The last thing to do was check the confessional booths for trash, and he would be able to call it a night. 

Opening and scanning the booth caused Father Simon to do a double take. He had fully expected them to be empty, but there was…something in his seat. He tentatively leaned in closer as another crash of thunder hid the sound of the front door to his church opening as a soaking wet figure slide inside. 

Father Simon stepped into the confessional, the door closing behind him, to slowly pick up the item he saw. His hands traced the lace fabric, his body reacting a split second before his mind. Blood was rushing between his legs again when he realized what he held: a bright pink thong. Father Simon was a smart man, he knew who had left it there. Agaisnt his own better judgement, his chastity being tested by his base instincts, he lifted the thong to his face and inhaled. Just as he did, he was startled by the sound of someone entering the other side of the booth. As quickly as he could, he stuffed the thong into his pocket as his heart threatened to rupture from his chest.

She spoke first.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

Father Simon’s voice caught in his throat. He knew that voice. Who else did he expect? His manhood began to pulse as he willed himself to be present in this moment, to remember who he was.

“Mrs. Hillerson…I’m sorry, but the church is closed for the night. You’ll have to come back and give your confession tomorrow…”

“No Father, please, you don’t understand. I’m desperate. I NEED to confess to you. I’m worried what might happen alone at home if I don’t.”

Her voice was pleading and earnest, and despite himself, Father Simon felt his resolve falter. It was his job to help his congregation, wasn’t it? His duty.

“I…,” his voice broke. “I suppose I have time to take your confession.” 

The relief in her voice was palpable. 

“Thank you so, so much Father. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

“It’s…quite all right, Mrs. Hillerson. Just tell me what is on your mind.”

She readjusted herself and let out a deep sigh. As she did, Father Simon chanced a glance at the partition window. He could make out her black dress, low cut and plastered to her skin by the downpour outside. He quickly looked away.

Another crash of thunder signaled the start of Mrs. Hillerson’s confession. 

“Okay, okay…” she sighed. “Here it goes.” 

She launched into her story. A boring life with a boring husband in a boring town. She knew it was wrong, but she started to give in to temptation. It started small, flirting with her friend’s husbands, dressing a bit more revealing than she knew was proper. The attention became like a drug for her, the sensation of being wanted, being desired. It wasn’t until she started to explore the darker sides of the internet that things really began to escalate.

Father Simon tried his best to focus and offer support as she told him about discovering Reddit, but his body kept betraying him. He found himself glancing through the partition more and more frequently, seeing her chest move up and down, her dark hair plastered to her neck, the fabric of her dress revealing the shape of her breasts. 

“I saw so many things there Father. So many filthy things. At first I avoided them…but I kept feeling the pull of temptation.”

As she spoke, her voice began to become punctuated by short breaths. Father Simon chanced another glance through the partition, saw Mrs. Hillerson’s chest rising and falling, her nipples standing erect against the drenched fabric. Another clap of thunder and a flash of lighting illuminated the confessional pew. He saw that her hand was between her legs. His own hand slid between his as she continued. 

“Soon, I was addicted. I couldn’t get enough. Rough porn, taboo porn, women tied up and used, filled with cum, drenched with it.” She let out a moan. Father Simon started to slowly rub his swollen, throbbing, off-limits manhood. 

“I wanted it all. I wanted it to be happening to me. And so I posted a question. I wanted to know how to spice up my life. I wanted to know how to be a good girl. I wanted to know how to serve.”

Another flash of lightning. Mrs. Hillerson’s hand was moving in a small circle under her dress. Father Simon was staring through the partition, feeling his willpower helpless against these urges he had denied his entire life. He undid the zipper on his pants.

“And then,” she said, moaning again in-between her words, “and then, someone reached out. A woman who called herself Lily. She taught me what I needed to do. What happened next was terrifying, Father, and beautiful.” Her story was interrupted by her loudest moan yet as a hand slapped against the thin wall separated them.

“But now I can’t stop.”

She let out another deep moan, no longer bothering to stifle them. Father Simon saw her put her legs up on either side of the booth as he maneuvered his cock free, eyes feasting on the sight of his married congregation member. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, knew he should remove himself from this situation, remove himself from temptation. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“Everywhere I go, my head is filled with depraved, perverted fantasies. I can’t hold them at bay. I’m worried I will act on them. Worried I will ruin my marriage, my life.  I sit in church and I look at you and just imagine taking your cock right there in front of the whole congregation. I think about you bending me over the alter and punishing me. I think about dressing like a nun and giving up my life to be your little whore. Lily said there was only one way to save myself, to make myself clean again.”

Thunder struck. The storm was directly above the church now. The sound and the light were disorienting. Father Simon blinked to clear his vision. When he could see again, the door to his side of the confessional was wide open. Mrs. Hillerson was on her knees in front of him, her breasts spilling pulled out of her dress, a look of fear and desperation in her eyes. A look of hunger when she saw the thick, throbbing cock enclosed in his fist.

“I need a priest’s cum to make me clean again,” she pleaded.

Father Simon felt a tinge of fear as he looked into her eyes. He imagined they were glowing red. He felt a similar sensation wash over him that he had encountered sometimes, deep in prayer and reflection. A spark of the divine. What he felt now was similar…but darker. Tainted. His body was not his own. His hand squeezed his cock hard. 

“Mmmmm that’s it Father Simon. Stroke that holy cock for me. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know you want to help me. Help me, Father Simon. Only your seed can set me free from him.”

As she spoke, he obliged her, sliding his hand up and down his cock. These urges he had pushed down his whole life, had tried to deny, were staging a mutiny against his will. 

“We don’t have to break your vows father,” she told him, as she traced her fingers up his thighs. His eyes took in the sight, her nipples pink and erect. Her breasts swayed as she scratched farther up and down his legs. 

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t help you a little.” 

She leaned forward and let a bead of drool slowly fall out of her mouth and land directly onto his cock, lubricating it, making his hand glide up and down himself with intoxicating pleasure. He leaned back and closed his eyes, unable to speak, unable to stop. 

She slide farther up his body, her soaked clothes making his damp as he continued to give in to his temptation. He felt her fingers slip into his pocket, removing what he had hidden there.

She looked him in the eyes, mere inches from his own, a demonic glare to her stare. “Bad boy,” she cooed at him. “I was hoping you would find these.”

He looked at her, unable to blink or look away, as she played with the pink thong in her fingers, before reaching down between his legs. He tried to tell her to stop, that this was wrong, this was unholy, but his voice caught in his throat. She wrapped the lace fabric around his throbbing, thick cock and began to slide her hand up and down his shaft, replacing his hand with her own. The fabric scratched across his skin while she squeezed him hard, his cock still lubricated by her spit. She looked at him and brought her hand up to her mouth, licking her wet tongue along his length. Lighting flashed through the stained glass windows again, and in the harsh light he could have sworn that her tongue became forked like a snake’s.

She replaced her hand between his legs, stroking his never-used-cock faster with a fresh serving of drool, her wet body pressed against his, her mouth at his neck, biting at the white collar there. She shifted her weight, sliding her legs on either side of him, letting her dress hike up her thighs. She moved her mouth to his ear, only able to stroke the tip of his cock from this angle.

“It’s not enough,” she breathed, her voice heavy and dripping with lust. “I thought it would be enough, but it’s not. I need to be clean from the inside. I need to feel you inside me.”

Father Simon felt something wet and hot press against the tip of his cock as she positioned herself on top of him. Realization dawned on him. What she was about to do. How his vows would be ruined, how his soul would be forefit. His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to protest. As he did, she took the thong from around his cock and gently stuffed it into his open mouth. She leaned in close to his ear again.

“Sin with me.”

Even if some small, defeated part of him wanted to say no, he couldn’t. All he could do was moan into the thong stuffed into his mouth as she lowered herself onto his cock, breaking his vow of chastity. 

The warmth he felt as he entered her, the tightness of it wrapped around him…this was divine. This was holy. He felt himself break as she let all of her weight fall onto him. How could something that felt like this be a sin? She pressed her forehead against his, breathing heavy. Another crash of thunder and flash of lighting oversaturated his vision again, tricking him into thinking the empty church was full of people watching them before the spots in his eyes cleared. She started to push herself up off of him, and back down again.

She rhythmically began to ride him in the confessional as the last vestiges of his resolve slipped away. “I’ve wanted this ever since I first saw you, Father,” she was moaning. “All of the wives have. You’re far too sexy to keep this cock locked away.” 

In response, he started to buck his hips up in time with her own movements, moaning and grunting his approval as he started to share the burden of work to bounce her up and down on his cock. Already he felt the tremors of pleasure radiating through his body. Mrs. Hillerson took encouragement from this. She braced herself with her right arm against the side of the booth, her left sliding up the Father’s chest.

“Mmmm god yes, Father Simon, that’s it.” As she spoke, her fingers wrapped around his throat. She squeezed, her wedding band pressing into the flesh of his neck, as he kept bouncing her up and down.

“Fuck me Father, for I have sinned!” She screamed. “Fuck me Father for I have sinned!”

More thunder. More rain. A cacophony of sensations overwhelming him, struggling to breath, Father Simon kept thrusting his hips up and down in time with her bounces, feeling the passion swell, threatening to overwhelm him. 

“Don’t stop Father,” she breathed, as if he could if he wanted to. “Don’t fucking stop. I’m going to cum. Keep fucking your little church whore! I need your cum. Break your vows while I break mine. Fuck me and renounce your faith. Break me. Feed me. Worship me. Ohhhhh fuckkkkk.”

The loudest crash of thunder yet mixed with Mrs. Hillerson’s screams as Father Simon felt her pussy constrict on his cock. Her fingernails dug into his neck. Her body writhed and spasmed on top of his own. In the flash of lighting that accompanied the thunder, Father Simon saw again a full congregation. Only this time, the vision didn’t fade when the light did.

His church was full. Women lined the pews, wearing robes or chains or nothing at all. Among them were the other wives from the church, as well as women he didn’t recognize. Some were pleasuring each-other, putting their hands and mouths where god didn’t intend. Some we dominating each-other, choking or slapping or biting or screaming. But most were watching the scene in the confessional with rapt attention, their legs spread wide with their hands between their thighs. One even appeared to be defiling herself with a crucifix as she watched. The walls echoed with moans.

God, take pity on my soul he thought. Because he couldn’t help himself.

His passion must have showed in his face, because Mrs. Hillerson dropped to her knees, taking his throbbing manhood in her hands, stroking it furiously. 

“Give me your seed, Father. Give me your cum. Baptize me with it. I need it. We need it. He wants a show.”

Father Simon’s last vestiges of faith and conviction faded as he wrapped his hands around the horns that had grown from Mrs. Hillerson’s head to hold her face steady as she aimed his cock at her face like a hose and burst out a lustful, victorious laugh. Black spots appeared in his vision as he let out a grunt. A lifetime of repressed sexuality and pent up tension erupted from his cock as rope after rope after rope of thick, hot cum drenched Mrs. Hillerson. Each splash eliciting rapturous moans from her and the audience. Behind her, he could see a dark shadow begin to form and materialize at the altar as his cum continued to pour out of him, talking his soul with it. It poured down Mrs. Hillerson’s face, down her chin, between her breasts, onto the floor. The orgy of flesh in the church was in uproar, lighting flashed again, illuminating the scene. The dark spots grew larger, dominating Father Simon’s sight as his head became light. As he drifting out of consciousness, the last thing he saw was a forked serpent’s tongue slither out of Mrs. Hillerson’s mouth to greedily taste the cum dripping down her face.

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The congregation of St. Matthew’s was disappointed to hear that Father Simon had moved on. It seems he didn’t bother to let anyone know, but rather packed up his things in the middle of the night and left. No one was too surprised, however. Priest that he was, Father Simon was still far too young and vital to be trapped in such a sleepy community. Besides, they knew the church would send a replacement for him soon. The church wives in particular were eager to meet the new Father.