Confession Ch. 02

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Sorry it took so long for Chapter 2! I’m in the middle of changing my career and moving across country. Chapter 3 will be out by the end of March. Thank you for all the comments, and enjoy Emily’s descent into sin…


Part 1: Anticipation

I had never come in my sleep before.

I lay in my bed, drenched in sweat. I could feel the juices from my pussy smeared all over my thighs. My panties were soaked. My heart was still racing, and I closed my eyes to try and grasp the fleeting shreds of the dream I had just had…

Father Damian, with his intense green eyes, his hands on my hips, his cock long and hard –

– and putting it inside me, from behind, like an animal;

I closed my eyes again and touched my pussy until I came again, hard, my breaths shuddering as I succumbed to the power of my orgasm. I had it bad. Like, really bad. Was I a sex addict?

The interesting part was the fact that I had never had sex, so lots of it I couldn’t visualize. But I could definitely fantasize. And on that I wasted no time.

I got out of bed to jump in the shower and wash the sex dreams off of me. As I lathered up I wondered if Father Damian thought of me when I wasn’t there. Did he have dreams about me too? Did he touch himself, imagining filling me with his cock? Did he think about me when he was in the shower, or having breakfast, or writing homilies?

The last thought made me blush and I got down to the business of getting ready for school.

I picked out my cutest clothes, because it was Friday, and after school we were carpooling to Guerin Catholic high school for JFest. My Candies jeans, the best ones – I usually felt guilty wearing them because they looked so good. A white lacy camisole, and over it, a light blue and brown striped sweater. I began to braid my crazy blonde hair, and the result was super messy, but I liked it anyway. I started to run out the door to catch the bus but had to run back – I almost forgot my Celtic cross and scapular. I would not be the only girl without them.

On the bus and the entire school day I daydreamed about making out with Father Damien during confession. Maybe more. It would be risky to do more, but maybe when everyone is asleep…maybe…


I snapped out of my reverie. “What?”

“Are you ready to go or what?”

We were standing outside by the flagpole with our overnight bags. Everyone was looking at me.

“Yeah okay.” I shrugged. “Sorry, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” Sarah rolled her eyes. They all turned around and headed toward the car.

Tara dropped back and put her arm around my shoulders as we walked. “Hey.”


“You okay?” She dropped her arm and adjusted her heavy backpack. “You seem kind of out of it lately. Things okay at home? Should we pray for you?”

“Oh no! It’s nothing like that, it’s just…” I bit my lip. “I have a crush. A really, really bad one. I can’t stop thinking about him.”

Tara giggled. “You should have told me! Who is it?”

My cheeks burned and I looked down. “I can’t tell you.”



“Come on. Who is it?”


“Emily!” She pouted.

“Taraaaa!” I mocked her pouting face back at her. “I’m serious, I really don’t want to talk about it. He’ll never go for me anyway.”

“Ah.” Comprehension dawned on her face. “It’s a teacher.”

“No!” My stomach dropped and my face flushed again. She hit too close to the truth.

“It IS a teacher!” She practically squealed with glee. “It’s Mr. Richards, isn’t it?”

We arrived at Heather’s mom’s minivan. Or megavan, really. There were nine Storey children so Mrs. Storey drove one of those huge white vans. Like, a minibus. Which meant she was usually stuck with giving every kid in town a ride. Heather overheard us a little. “What did you say about Mr. Richards?”

“Emily has a super secret crush on him and it’s eating her up inside.”

Heather turned beet red, making me realize she actually did have a super secret crush on said teacher. I felt a little better and glared at Tara. “I. Do. Not.” I threw my duffel bag in the trunk. “Anyway, my secret love would never compare to your undying freaking passion for Mark. Did Evan talk to him yet or what?”

Thank god. She took the bait and prattled off about God knows what, because I stopped actually listening and focused on killing the panic rising in my gut. We were in the car. Going to JFest. Where I would be spending the weekend, more or less, around Father Damian. It was all happening.

What would we do next? He mentioned something about “far greater sin” last time we were together…while staring at my mouth. I quickly realized that I definitely wanted to delve deeper. I began to think about Father Damian’s hard, massive cock filling my throat and I got instantly wet and distracted.


“What?” I cleared my throat. “Sorry, what?”

“Do you think that ataköy türbanlı escort when Kyle told Evan that Mark thinks that Torie is cute he meant like baby cute or like sexy cute?”

I pretended to think on it. “Baby cute. I mean, she looks like she’s twelve.”

Tara flipped her hair. “I know right?”

We pulled up to Guerin Catholic School. Jesus. Christ. And there he was, standing outside with a group of boys from our school, with that sexy hair and those green eyes. Father Damian. I got out of the car with the other girls, feeling so self-conscious of my every movement. I could feel him watching me.

I glanced over. Definitely watching me. He quickly, ever so slightly, smiled at me. I smiled back, looked down, and bit my lip. He looked incredibly turned on…and quickly looked away.

He did think about me. I was sure of it.

I practically swaggered in to Jfest and threw my bags with the other girls’ before joining everyone else in the gym.

The gym was buzzing. Each diocese was passing out t-shirts, taking role, and everyone was forming cliques immediately. At these retreats, my group of girls were the most popular. We were the good girls – the ones that volunteer to go on missions and visit old people in nursing homes. We all had virginity pledge cards to save sex until marriage. And Heather was even sure that marriage was out of the question. She wanted to be a nun and be married to Jesus, so, naturally, she was the coolest.

Tara found a cute guy playing the guitar and dragged me over, and we sat in a circle, singing worship songs that all of us knew and doing the hand motions together.

As soon as everyone was checked in, each youth leader collected our cell phones and watches so there would be no distractions…we were on “God’s time.” The MC jumped onstage, and the retreat started with an excited overview of all of the things planned for us this weekend. For the first time ever, I began to feel a little wary of the retreat that was about to happen. They were huge, emotional undertakings, ones that were supposed to revamp your spirituality like a good spring cleaning. I didn’t feel strong enough to undergo something like that at the moment. I was distracted.

I glanced over at Father Damian, standing in the back with the other two priests. Our eyes met and I looked away, blushing.

The cute boy who had been playing the guitar scooted to sit behind Tara and I from a couple spots over. He tapped my shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered. “I haven’t seen you at these before. What’s your name?”


“I’m Kyle.” He was staring directly at my chest. “You have a beautiful voice.”

I blushed. “Thank you.”

Tara had an expression on her face like she had gotten the green skittle. She hated the green skittle. I know it’s wrong, but I gleefully began to enjoy the attention I was getting from Kyle, just to spite her. “You’re really good at the guitar.”

“Thanks. We should jam some more during free hour. I think it’s at seven.”

I smiled. “Sounds like a plan, Kyle.”

Mrs. Storey narrowed her eyes at me and I gave Kyle the, woops, we’re caught look and began to fake paying attention.

In the distance, Father Damian looked distracted.

Part 2: The Office

“Office by the pool. 7” it was scrawled on a scrap of paper obviously torn from the program.

Father Damian had slipped it into my hand during the opening mass. After saying the Our Father, everyone shakes hands, but the JFest tradition was hugs – to everyone. Except priests, you don’t touch the priests beyond a handshake. Father Damian clutched my hand and smiled warmly. “Peace be with you, Emily.” I felt the paper in his hand and looked up, quizzically, and replied, “And also with you.”

After he left I opened it. At seven o clock was an hour of free time. Traditionally it was used for flirting and hanging with your girlfriends – retreats were the perfect place to find a nice Catholic boy. Some played music, others went outside and played basketball. I had made plans to ‘jam’ with that nice boy Kyle, but they were instantly forgotten.

I, apparently, was going to confession.

The office was not too hard to find. The school swimming pool was next to the gym. The lights were all off but the door was unlocked. Inside, I could see one light coming from the office. There was only one small window, a vertical one in the door. I walked in. Father Damian was sitting at the desk, leaning back. He smiled nervously when I walked in and quietly shut the door behind me. His green eyes were hungry.


I sat down. “Father Damian.” My heart was pounding in my ears.

“I thought we would have…some confession. Before the retreat. Cleanse our souls. Is that okay with you?”

I licked my lips. “Yes. Please.” I was nervous. And so, so turned on. I bit my lip.

He sat up straighter, and his voice dropped to a whisper. ataköy ucuz escort “Come here then,” he said, and all pretense of an actual confession was dropped.

I came.

I sat on his lap and our lips met, hungrily. He attacked my mouth like a wolf, biting, kissing, one hand on the back of my head, pulling my hair back so he could kiss me deeper. I kissed him back with abandon. My tongue found his mouth and he sucked it, sensually. I moaned, my hands stroking his chest.

He cupped my breasts, firmly, his fingers finding my nipples through my flimsy bra. He growled and ripped down my camisole, making my breasts pop out above them. He sucked on my nipples, making me gasp, and teased them with his tongue and his teeth.

His other hand found my legs, stroking my thighs, working their way up, so slowly, as he kissed me again. He felt me from outside of my jeans and I felt him groan into my throat. “Jesus,” he breathed, “you’ve soaked through your jeans, Emily.” I whimpered and kissed him deeper while he undid the top button of my pants. Slowly, deliberately, he unzipped them. His hand went inside, and he cupped my mound, possessively. I moved my hips against his hand, inviting him in, and he stuck a finger in my pussy as I moaned, deeply.

When he felt how wet I was, he lost it.

He threw me on the desk and papers and a cup of pens were cast to the floor. All the restraint, the tenderness – gone. He pulled off my jeans, taking my sandals with them, in a single motion, and pulled my legs over his shoulders as he lunged toward my sopping wet pussy.

The rest of my life I will remember how Father Damian ate my pussy.

His tongue circled my clit…over and over he circled it, stopping occasionally to fuck my hole with his tongue. He sucked my labia, savagely, and lapped up my juices thirstily. I began to whimper – this was too much, this onslaught of pleasure, such sensuous torture – and he took two fingers and plunged them deep inside of me while he sucked and licked and made love to my clit. He pumped his fingers in and out and in and out and I began to feel it coming, oh it was coming, oh my god and he wouldn’t stop fucking me with his hand and he sucked my clit again, hard, and I was coming, oh god was I coming – I was blind and my soul was in a million pieces, shattered, twisting, spiraling out of control as I moaned “ohhhhhhhhh.” He was watching me now, his face glistening with my juices, his green eyes boring into me, just his hand kept going, kept thrusting in and out and in and out and oh god there was more, how could there be more, and as I completely lost function of my entire body in my full-body orgasm I heard him whisper, “yessss…good girl, come for me…good girl.”

My body was wracked with wave after wave of pleasure, and eventually went limp…my heart was beating through my chest. I closed my eyes and he kissed me.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Father Damian whispered. “Come here.”

I sat up and looked at him. His pants were undone, and his rock-hard cock was just waiting there for me. It was massive – past his belly button. It was the only one I had ever seen, but I was pretty sure most men were not this big. They couldn’t be.

I smiled and snaked down to the floor in front of his chair. I got on my knees and he drank in the sight of it.

I had no idea what to do, but after the way he just made me feel, I sure as hell was going to try.

I started at the bottom – his balls – and slowly licked my way up, like he was an ice cream cone. I did this a few times, slowly, before circling around the tip with my tongue.

He exhaled. “Ohh.” And I slowly started to take him into my mouth. I wasn’t sure I could fit him all, so I did it a little bit at a time. I went down an inch, then back up, and swirled the tip again. Another two inches. Back up. He closed his eyes. “Yes,” Father Damian breathed, as I slowly swallowed his cock. It finally hit the back of my throat and I whimpered. I wanted more in me.

I breathed deeply, slowly, relaxed my throat, and took Father Damian’s whole cock in my mouth. He moaned and grabbed my hair. “Yes…” He moved my head up and down, slowly. “You…are…so…sweet…oh Emily…” He began to move his hips up and to fuck my mouth. “Christ.” He began to move his hips faster, holding my head tightly by my hair as he slowly pumped my mouth…and I was loving it. Oh God was I loving this. I began to finger my pussy.

“Good girl,” he breathed as he fucked my face faster…and faster. I expertly touched my pussy to orgasm, convulsing on him, and the sight of me coming, my mouth full of his cock, set him over the edge and he came, shooting stream after stream of thick, hot, white cum down my throat. I swallowed it eagerly.

Father Damian leaned back. The white strip has fallen out of his collar and his hair was sticking up. I stood up and leaned over to kiss him. He tasted like my pussy, and I licked my juices ataköy üniversiteli escort off of his chin and cheeks. He sighed, deeply.

“Mmm.” I said. “I told you I like the taste…”

He languidly, but passionately kissed me back. “Yes you did, my child. You did.” He chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “However, you didn’t confess a history with blowjobs…”

“What history?” We were still kissing between words, my bare ass and pussy rubbing on his jeans now.

“That can’t have been your first time.”

I pulled back. “Why?” Pouting, I asked, “was it bad?”

He grabbed my hair, pulling my face to his, and kissed me deeply. “No, no no. It was…heavenly. You truly have a gift.”

I put my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. I glanced up at the clock over his head. It was 7:58. “Oh no. It’s eight. It’s eight.”

We flew up from the chair. I found my pants, and Father Damian straightened the office. I whirled around to help and picked up the name plaque on the desk. It said, “Fr Damian Akey.”

“This is your office?”

“Yeah,” he breathed as he picked up papers. “I share it with two other priests. We coach some of the sports teams here – I do basketball. Helps break up the monotony of the vocation.”

“I think I help with that a little.” I bent over to fasten my sandals, giving Father Damian a view.

He grabbed my hips, twirled me around, and kissed me deeply. “More than you know. Now go. They’re starting adoration soon and if you are late, they will notice. Go. I’ll follow in a few.”

I turned the doorknob to go, and Father Damian said, “oh – Emily?”

I smiled. “Yes?”

“There’s mandatory confession. Tomorrow. For everyone, between 2 and 4. Please – don’t wear any panties.”

Part 3: Possession

“Where the hell were you?” Tara was upset. Heather, Hannah, and Lisa were listening but tried not to let on.

“I…had to go to confession before adoration. I had a few things on my mind. Wanted to cleanse myself before, um, adoring the lord.” My breath hitched from lying. I was not used to it.

She narrowed her eyes. “Kay.” She pointed across the gym. “Your new boyfriend was looking for you.” Kyle was by the makeshift baptismal font, putting his guitar back into its case. His eyes met mine and he smiled.

“Oh no,” I said, “Shoot, he’s coming over here.” And he was.

“I mean, if you don’t wanna talk to him, we can take care of that, girl…” Tara glanced over at the rest of our group meaningfully.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll – ” Kyle came up and hugged me. Hugged me. I blushed at the intrusion. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said. “I was looking for you. Where did you go?”

I mumbled something about confession and cleansing and blah blah blah. He beamed.

“That’s a great idea. Why aren’t there more girls like you?”

The music started, signaling the start of service, and he sat down with me, his fingers looping around mine. My heart started racing as I looked around to find Father Damian. I had no idea what to do, and I didn’t see him anywhere.

Adoration began and, like clockwork, all of the girls I came with turned on the waterworks. The Eucharist (the host, another name for the bread we eat at mass) was enshrined in an elaborate golden cross. Catholics believe in transubstantiation, or the literal conversion of the bread into the body of Christ. So by that logic, the bread in front of us was Jesus, actually Jesus – a scrap of his flesh, displayed in gold, for all of us to bawl at and repent at and…adore.

But this year I felt nothing. Was something wrong with me? Was this sin too great for confession, this thing with Father Damian, was this hardening my heart to Jesus?

So I broke it down in my head. Without the dim lighting…and the soft, emotional music…without the girls standing next to me, sobbing about how much they loved Jesus, and how unworthy they were. Without all of these things, I would feel nothing.

So nothing is exactly what I felt, and for me it was just fine.

Next to me Kyle was kneeling, his head bowed, his prayers fervently falling from his lips, his hand squeezing mine, hard. He blinked a few tears out of his eyes and turned to me.

“I am so unworthy.”

Oh jeez. No. I was not in the mood.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, standing up, and reached to envelop me in a big, tight bear hug. His hips crushed against mine, my breasts were smushed against his chest, and I felt him grow hard against me. Oh my. Definitely not as big as Father Damian, my suspicions were right. This kid was miniscule. He sniffled into my hair and mumbled, “Thank you. You are wonderful.” He kissed my cheek, and I pulled back.

“I have to go.” And I walked away, quickly, leaving a very confused Kyle. My friends watched me leave. I darted into the restroom at the back of the gym and stayed in there for a while. When the music became upbeat, I knew it was over, and the masses of repentant adolescents began to cheer wildly. I was still not in the mood.

I felt totally detached from everyone around me. Maybe I was just outgrowing these things. For the first time, I was keenly aware of everyone and everything trying to manipulate me. I felt like a woman, not a girl. And if I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t have to.

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