Much to my surprise, though, Father Scott doesn’t seem to fear this exposure as much. Not only has he beckoned me again, but this time, I was told to wait for him outside the confessional room in front of an altar. I have never exactly been a deeply religious person. I’ve always found the rituals, the confessions, the priest on the altar, the doctrines, and even the smell of the incense deeply fascinating. As I waited for Father Scott, all those memories came flooding back, but now they were all draped in lust and desire.
This desire made complete sense to me when I heard Father Scott’s footfall approaching me from behind as I stood at the altar. I had lit a candle and was briefly lost in thought. When I turned to take a look at him, there he was in full regalia. Maybe it had always been there, but I realized I found the sight of him in his robes deeply arousing. I could feel my cock start to swell and even my hole puckered with hunger.
He, too, seemed to enjoy the sight of me like this, and with no time wasted he embraced me and kissed me passionately. Right there for everyone, even God, to witness. Even more than the last time, Father Scott was like a hungry lion. He was all sinful with no regard for his station or his supposed beliefs. For now, that was all out the door, and in front of an altar he was going to sin, and he was going to sin deeply.
He continued to kiss me and began to disrobe; he removed my shirt and I began helping him with his. He was so handsome with his perfectly kept hair and beard. It was strange; there wasn’t much about this absurdly hot man that seemed or even looked remotely pious. As his massive worked out chest brushed up against my smooth one, I could feel his dominating presence.
Soon enough I was on my knees for the holy man. I wrapped my tongue and mouth around it, teasing him and even myself. I pulled it out and went to town, ravenously, full throated. His cock pulsed and twitched in my mouth and throat, clearly more excited than that first time.
Father Scott then had me bend over on a bench. I felt his hot breath on my hole and soon his beard scratching my spread cheeks and his tongue was swirling around my hole, lubing it up with his saliva. Not long after, both of us were in dire need of penetration. His throbbing member made its way up my chute.
His thrusts were as vigorous as they were tender, and as calculated and steady as they felt primal and passionate. I was here to worship him, but in many ways, it felt like he was worshiping me—or at least my hole—just as much.
My own hard cock bounced up and down as I rode him, he rode me from behind, and took his pounding in any position he pleased. For these moments, my body was his, my hole was his, and I submitted wholeheartedly, while his cock seemed to do the same to me.
He growled and grunted as he got closer and closer to climax, and soon enough he was spilling his seed inside me. As we finished, I couldn’t help but wonder, would I see him again? What else does he desire from me? My body? No matter the answer, I was ready.
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