Forbidden

New characters from prior chapters but the focus remains on conduct forbidden by society and the joy some get from violating the rules.

"Bless me Father for I have sinned."

I found myself in a confessional for the first time since I had left town ten years earlier at the age of 18. There was of course a wall between me and the young priest taking my confession with a small opening to let sound through which the priest had slid open before I spoke. My statement was followed by a silence. I hadn't been in a church for so long that I had forgotten the time honored procedure followed in a Catholic confession. After a moment of silence the priest prompted me, "And how long has passed since your last confession?"

My god, I thought. He has the sexiest voice I've ever heard.

"It's been quite a while Father," I replied, adding no further explanation for my long absence or for sudden return. I hadn't planned on even going to church, much less confession, during my first visit home in several years but my mother had insisted I join her in church the prior Sunday. After the service my Mother and I chatted with the young priest on the church steps. I couldn't believe how sexy he was. He stood well over six feet, his handsome face cleanly shaven, thick curly brown hair that looked perfect for running my fingers through, and that voice, deep and soft, his words clearly spoken. His eyes. My god what eyes. They were a soft brown that focused directly on me as he spoke to me. The kind of eyes that could penetrate directly to a woman's soul, at a glance. I couldn't avoid imagining staring into those eyes as this gorgeous man made love to me.

As we walked away from the church I said to my Mother, "What a hunk the new priest is."

Mom responded, "Sarah, he's a priest. Don't even think about him."

Impossible, I thought. I knew I would have to talk to him again. But talk wasn't exactly what I wanted. Since I had left home ten years ago I had engaged in an active sex life with a series of partners sometimes at the same time and occasionally in groups. I wouldn't say I was a slut, but I enjoyed sex and my relationships were understood not to be exclusive for any of us.

I was attractive enough to get most men's attention, or more if I chose. I'm tall, almost five-nine with long attractive legs, a tight ass with a well-muscled butt that sticks out a bit, and a narrow waist. My breasts aren't huge, but they are big enough so that they are obvious with most garments. They have a nice bounce when I walk and when I am aroused my nipples grow large enough to raise a tent beneath most bra and garment combinations. It was embarrassing when I was young but now, not so much. I have long, thick, reddish-blonde hair and blue eyes.

The priest certainly gave me a long second look that day on the steps of the church. When my mother introduced me, he shook my hand with his--warm and soft and his eyes politely but quickly scanned me from top to bottom. Thereafter as he conversed with my Mother his eyes frequently flicked back to look at me for the briefest, but most telling, moments.

"Mom, I know he is a priest, but he's a man too and he's certainly not like that creepy looking old Father Andrew that was here before I left home. You can't tell me you haven't noticed him can you?"

"Certainly not," my mother huffed. "He's a priest," she repeated as though that somehow made him a different species of human being.

The next day I encountered my priest again. I had gone to a Starbucks for a mid-morning coffee. When I turned away from the counter with my beverage I realized he was sitting at a table with a middle aged couple having a conversation. He rose to get a refill and smiled pleasantly at me saying hello as he passed, his eyes once again penetrating deeply with the briefest of looks, carrying a hint of lust and passion that might be.

I walked to a table and sat down stretching my long legs out before me, crossed at my ankles. I was wearing a relatively short skirt so I was showing a lot of leg, something my priest noticed with a brief, but not inconsequential, look as he walked past me with his refilled coffee to rejoin his table.

It was a weekday mid-morning so he was no longer wearing the long loosely draped vestment customarily worn for a Sunday service. Now he was wearing the priest's typical dark slacks, black shirt and white collar. Without the cassock to hide his body he looked even sexier than I had imagined, tall and lean with broad shoulders.

He returned to his seat with the couple and though clearly participating and paying attention to the conversation, I noticed his repeated glances in my direction. I was distracting him. In addition to my short skirt, I was wearing a T-shirt that I thought hung nicely on my breasts. I sat staring at my cell phone, but in such a position that I could focus most of my attention on my priest without being obvious. I could feel my nipples swelling as I snuck glance after glance at him. I had pulled my legs up and was sitting with my knees tightly together under the table--what I called my "Mary Jane posture."

Yes I clearly had his attention and just to insure it remained on me I let my knees slide slowly apart, knowing he could see beneath the table. As I exposed ever more of the interior of my thighs I could see his attention on me growing. When I reached the end of my coffee I began to gather up my things. He was looking directly at me, concerned perhaps that I was about to leave? I paused for a moment and let my legs fall carelessly open, briefly but long enough I was sure to give him a good look at my panty clad pussy. Then I rose and walked from the coffee shop swinging my hips as I left. I couldn't know if he was watching my exit but I told myself I was sure he was.

"Wow," I said to myself when I slid into my car. "Flashing a priest in a coffee house." My visit home suddenly had more excitement in it than I had expected. It wasn't like I was going to get a date with this priest or anything but just watching him lust over my fully clad body was exciting and then opening my legs to give a quick peek. How naughty.

By the time I reached home I was so horny from my lewd thoughts about this new priest that I went directly to my bedroom, ignoring my Mother's greeting. I threw myself down on the bed and lay thinking about my young priest. Had he become aroused as he watched me flaunt myself, I wondered? Almost certainly. Perhaps even now he had returned to the rectory and was lying in his cell stroking his long hard cock as he thought of the tall leggy blonde who had flashed her pussy at him in the Starbucks. As I lay imaging my priest stroking his dick, I pushed my skirt above my waist and pulled my long naked legs up; spread and bent at the knees; my lose skirt fallen to lap; my fingers rubbing my pussy through my now sodden panties. I pulled my T-shirt up and over my head throwing it aside followed by my bra. My nipples were swollen and hard, craving attention. Would my priest suckle on them if I let him see them engorged with my lust? I fondled my tits, pinching, pulling and twisting on the nipples as I imagined my priest no longer in his cell but now in my room staring down at me as he rubbed his swollen cock through his slacks.

I levered my hips up pushing my panties down over my knees, quickly untangling them from my feet. Pulling my knees back up and apart I lay lewdly spread, my swollen tits and my gleaming sex exposed to my young priest. the priest was imaginary but my lewd posture and the fire in my core was very real. "Take it out," I told him. "I want to see it."

"But I can't fuck you," he said. "I'm a priest. I've taken vows."

"I know. But I want to see it." I wanted to see his cock while I finger fucked myself and stroked my pussy lips and my clit. I was masturbating furiously now as I imagined the young priest standing above me dropping his trousers and exposing a long, beautiful prick, fully erect, it's head bulbous and red with lust and a gleaming drop of pre-cum at its tip. And of course, as it would be in a day dream, it was an absolutely perfect prick: long and straight; big around, but not so big as to cause pain beyond that delicious initial stretching a great prick may cause; fully circumcised with a plum shaped head perfect for forcing entry into my cunt; ribbed with engorged blood vessels; and anchored to a delicious looking pair of balls big enough to flood me with his cum when he climaxed. Yes my priest had a perfect erection.

"Stroke it," I said. "I know you can't fuck me but I want you to stand and watch me masturbate and then I want to watch your cock spurt cum all over my tits."

"That is also forbidden," he said, his hand hovering next to his prick in temptation.

"Yes but you will, won't you? Everybody masturbates."

He relented and we masturbated furiously, me laying on my bed, my legs spread like a slut, my fingers driving me rapidly to the climax that had been lurking ever since I left the Starbucks, and my Priest standing, in my imagination, alongside my bed furiously stroking his cock with a look on his face that was a mixture lust and fear until we both climaxed furiously, me with a cry stifled by the corner of a sheet I had used as a gag, and he spraying a flood of cum across my tits, my chest, even my face, while a strong climax roared through my body.

Then I lay gasping, my legs still spread and my tits still swollen, and occasional spasm still cramping my cunt. But my imaginary priest and his boatloads of cum sprayed across my body were now gone, remaining only as a lustful memory of what might have been.

That was when I heard my mother tapping at my door. "Sarah dear. Can you come down for coffee. My friend Mrs. Halverson has dropped by. She is one of my dearest friends and you must meet her."

"Oh fuck." I whispered to myself before responding, "In a minute or two." I needed time to clean up even if my priest and his cum had been imaginary.

Yes perhaps I'd gotten a little carried away masturbating over my priest while my Mother was entertaining her close friend downstairs, but I'd had a dry spell for several weeks before coming home to visit. No particular reason for it. My 'boyfriend' had decided to go home to his girlfriend of a couple of years past. It wasn't like I was deeply in love with him and crushed by his leaving. But he had been my regular friend with benefits for several months and I had gotten out of the habit of trolling the bars with a girlfriend or two. I was in the habit of having regular sex with someone, or at least about someone, and then it had gone dry. But when I flashed my priest in the Starbucks my sex drive had come roaring back.

I masturbated again that night, still using the bed sheet as a gag. Yes I'm noisy but I saw no reason for my parents to learn that about me.

The following day I went shopping at our local mall. I had decided that when I returned home I needed to get back in the saddle, so to speak, and go out trolling the bars with one of my girlfriends. My libido was fully recovered and I needed a new dress appropriate for trolling.

As I left the mall I stopped again at the Starbucks for an Iced Mocha and found myself face to face with my priest again.

"Hello again," he said with his Robert Redford smile. "It's Sarah," isn't it?" He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. As I looked at him I felt my pussy clench. How could this man arouse me like that simply by saying hello?

"Yes. That's me. Sarah. And you're Father Rich. Am I right?"

"Yes that's right but you can just call me Rich. I find the title... well a bit much if I'm not... well you know..."

"Priesting?" I interrupted.

He laughed, running his fingers through his hair, just as I imagined I would want to do the first time I saw him. "Yeah priesting," he responded, "although I'm not sure that's a word. But as you can see," he continued gesturing at his clothing, "this is my day off. So I'm not priesting today."

He got a coffee and we sat at a table on a porch outside the Starbucks. He was a good conversationalist, almost unnoticeably keeping the conversation focused on learning about me: who I was; where I lived (Palo Alto): where I had gone to college (Berkeley): what I had studied (economics and law); what I was doing for work (between jobs); was I married (no). He was masterful at learning about me. There were things I didn't tell him of course. Although I was not married I was far from celibate; that I was between jobs because my employers HR Manager had caught me screwing my boss and our mutual secretary after hours in the break room(we got carried away); that I thought he was just about the sexiest man I had ever seen. You know--those kinds of things.

Then I flipped the tables trying to learn about him. After going through more or less the same list about him I asked him about his job, "So do you enjoy priesting," I asked.

He looked at me. His dark eyes threatening to swallow my soul as he said "Yes," going on to describe the things he did and that while he didn't think himself much of a preacher, he enjoyed meeting one on one with people and couples and helping them with their troubles.

At some point he mentioned that a part of his duties included listening to confessions.

"Oh I never thought about that," I said. "I suppose you do. Do people tell you about terrible things they've done?"

He laughed again with that so sexy laugh. "I'll never tell. That's a part of my vows. What goes on in the confessional, stays in the confessional."

I laughed now. "That sounds like Vegas. I don't tell people what goes on in Vegas either."

He smiled. "Oh have you been there?"

"Once... with a friend." Actually I had been there a bunch of times with several friends and lovers, but I had promised that what went on would stay in Vegas.

"Most confessions are pretty ho hum," he said. "Many people go to confession for form, not because there is a serious sin they feel they must confess."

"Oh you mean, forgive me Father I had impure thoughts," I said.

He smiled and nodded his head.

"But is it juicy sometimes? Something people would find exciting to hear about?"

He smiled again. "I'll never tell."

"But you know," he continued "I think that most people who really have something substantive to confess... "

"You mean beyond impure thoughts," I interrupted.

"Yes beyond impure thoughts," he said with a smile. "I think they come to confession because they know they have done wrong and are feeling guilty. They are looking for forgiveness because they are struggling with the guilt from their transgression."

"And does it make them feel better?"

"I hope so. I know it does me."

"Wait. You're a priest. What do you have to confess?"

He laughed. "Priests are men first. We all have our failings and our weaknesses."

Oh my, I thought. I wonder what he confesses?

"But how about you?" he said, deftly changing the subject before I could ask the obvious question about his sins. "When was the last time you went to confession?"

I laughed. "I'll never tell." Then I looked at him trying to look as sexy as possible. "There's nothing to confess. I lead a very boring life."

"But you should you know. It's good for your soul."

"Even if all I could confess to is impure thoughts?"

"Yes, even those." Then he smiled, saying "And you would be surprised how much detail some people feel compelled include in their confession."

"Really? Your job is sounding better. You get paid to listen to peoples' nasty fantasies."

"Well I wouldn't put it that way, but... You know I can't tell. It stays in forever in the confessional."

"Yes, of course, but I'm not sure I could tell you about... "

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell me. You should try it. It's good for your soul," he repeated. "How about tomorrow afternoon at 3:00 p.m. I have time available. I'll meet you in the chapel. There won't be anyone around and besides there is nothing to be embarrassed about in going to confession."

I paused in thought. Confession? Me going to confession and telling this handsome young priest... Oh god what could I tell him, I thought. I mean there were a lot of things I had done that would qualify as confessable sins. We might be there all afternoon once I got started and how would I start... or finish. Well I suppose I could just give him the basic impure thoughts and keep the details to myself. And the idea of getting to talk to this incredibly sexy young man was not something to turn down.

After a long silence I said, "Okay I'll do it. But you are going to be bored."

"I'm never bored and we're not doing it to entertain me. It's for your soul."

He looked at his watch and said, "Oh, I have to go." Rising from his chair he said, "I'll see you at three tomorrow afternoon. You'll feel much better when we're done."

As he walked out the door I realized that I was going to need to put dry panties on before dinner with my family. What was it about that guy that got me so aroused?

Much of my non-sleeping time during the next 24 hours was devoted to obsessing about what I would say in confession. I even masturbated around a fantasy in which I joined him on his side of the confessional and we fucked ferociously in the cramped space.

Of course it didn't have to be about sex I thought. There must be something I had done wrong that didn't involve sex? Harder than I thought. Aside from my sex life I was a pretty boring person. I didn't steal, cheat on my taxes, lie to my parents (except about my sex life), drive too fast or when I was drunk. I didn't swear except as I was approaching an orgasm (again sex). I hadn't even cheated on exams in college. I had lied to a colleague's wife whose husband was cheating on her; but he was cheating with me so that was still a sex issue.

By the time I drove over to the church, I was down to the basic "impure thoughts confession," which would be embarrassingly mundane or maybe I could go as far as masturbation. How had I gotten myself into this?

I was wearing lightweight sundress with a loose skirt that stopped several inches above my knees and was held up on top with a pair of thin straps. The dress included bra cups which frankly didn't do much as a bra allowing my tits to jiggle nicely unless I walked very carefully. It probably wasn't appropriate but I had chosen if for its pretty blue color and light weight on a warm day with no thought at all as to how sexy it looked with the three inch heeled sandals I wore.

As I walked into the chapel my mind was still on my problem of what to say, until I saw him waiting for me near the alter. While I may not have focused on how sexy my choice of clothing made me look the effect on Father Rich was immediate and obvious. As I walked towards him still a bit lost in my thoughts, my tits jiggling salaciously, I saw him light up. His eyes were focused on me like a laser for the full length of my walk. By the time I reached him my mind had moved away from the question of 'what will I say' to 'what have I done coming to confession dressed like a slut.' Well slut was probably a bit of an overstatement but... I suddenly felt very naked under the skimpy, lightweight, dress.

He smiled, that oh so sexy smile of his and reached out taking my hand in both of his warm soft hands (Oh how good those would feel on my breasts I thought).

"Hello, I'm so glad you made it," he said, staring deep into my soul with those dark eyes. I was immediately lost, enveloped by his sexuality. Any thoughts I had about what I would say in the confession were lost. He held my hand in his soft warm grip of for longer than necessary for propriety but it could have gone on forever for me.

"Yes... well here I am... I..." I was tongue tied.

No matter. He released my hand and stepped back giving me a long look from top to bottom. "You look beautiful today."