It was left for Mother and me to meet Father Chris this evening. My father had already left early for work, while I spent the morning drowning in restless anxiety, my body humming with expectation for the moment Father Chris would step into our home.
All day yesterday, I had been boiling with anticipation. Sleep had been useless, broken into fragments of tossing and turning. I had woken almost five times before dawn, waiting for the day to finally break.
At seven, I threw off my covers and slipped into a steaming bath, his voice echoing inside my head:
"Prepare yourself. You'll get to suck my cock even with your parents nearby. I'll finger you rough until you're shaking."
"Oh, God…" I muttered into the steam, my body trembling just from the memory of his words. I wanted him. No—I needed him.
By the time I dressed, my skin was tingling, hot and restless beneath the light green gown I chose. It flared at the knees, covered my chest and neck modestly, yet left my arms bare. To anyone else, it was innocent, but I had picked it carefully, loose enough, light enough, easy enough for him to have me in any way he pleased. If Father Chris wanted to slip his cock into me, my dress wouldn't stop him.
It also helped hide the fading marks he had left, the bruised hickeys scattered over my breasts and throat. Not yet gone, still tender, still visible if anyone looked too closely. Beneath the gown, I wore nothing. No bra. No panties. Just me, raw and open. An invitation only he would understand.
My Father had apologized before leaving, his company called him out to oversee construction projects in the city. He wouldn't be back until night. Mother had looked disappointed that he couldn't join us for dinner with Father Chris, but I was secretly thrilled. One less pair of eyes to fear. One less barrier between me and his sinful touch.
I walked him to the car, waved him off, and the moment he drove away, heat rushed between my thighs.
Mother and I spent the morning preparing the dishes. Hours of chopping, stirring, sizzling. By the time we laid out the table, the house was rich with the aroma of roasted meat, spices, and baked bread. She stuck to her fruits, while I had only coffee and toast, saving my hunger for something else.
Later, while I sat in the living room pretending to watch television, my mind wandered. Every flicker of the screen blurred as fantasies of Father Chris replayed in my head, his hands, his voice, his cock.
Mother's voice pulled me out of my daze. She walked in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron, her brow drawn.
"We need more salad for dessert," she sighed. "We don't have enough carrots, onions, cabbage, or olives." She pressed her credit card into my hand. "Go down the street, buy them. And pick up something small for yourself, hm?"
I nodded, though my pulse quickened. My thoughts weren't on vegetables. They were on him. The way he promised to take me, even with my family close by.
I left quickly, wandering to the store. On the way, my mind was anything but clear, my body already betraying me with heat, wetness, hunger. After paying, I returned, clutching the bag of vegetables, but something made me pause.
There, in front of our house, was a sleek crimson car I didn't recognize. Shiny, dark-tinted windows reflecting my own face back at me. My stomach flipped.
Mother's car was gone. Where had she gone?
Could it be… him?
My breath caught as I hurried to the door, my hands trembling.
The moment I stepped inside, I froze.
There he was. Father Chris.
Seated on the sofa in a pristine white robe, watching the television as though he owned the room. His glasses glinted, his posture relaxed, but his presence devoured the space. He looked devastating, powerful, untouchable.
The crimson car was his.
I swallowed hard, shutting the door behind me, my back pressed against it as though I were already trapped.
"Father Chris…" I whispered, my eyes darting around, afraid my mother would appear at any moment. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would give me away.
Slowly, he turned to me, his gaze piercing, stripping me naked despite the gown I wore.
"My angel," he said in that low, sinful voice that curled around my spine and made my thighs clench. He rose from the sofa with deliberate slowness, every movement deliberate, predatory.
"You're home."
I nodded, lips parting, unable to breathe.
"Your mother stepped out," he continued, his voice deep smooth, dangerous. "She went to fetch the wine I requested. I've been praying you'd arrive soon. She told me you were running an errand. And now…" His gaze swept over me, lingering on my bare thighs beneath the flimsy gown. "…here you are."
He smiled, and it wasn't holy. It was hunger.
"I've missed you, my angel."
With my heart hammering in my chest, I dropped the bag of vegetables on the floor, all thoughts gone, and lunged onto him. His hands gripped my thighs, and I wrapped my legs around him, my dripping pussy pressing against his white robe. One hand slid over my bare ass, kneading and smacking it, and I shivered at the dangerous glint in his eyes.
"I see, my Angel… you've been waiting for me," he murmured, his voice low and smooth against my ear. "You like that, don't you?"
I didn't answer. I crushed my lips against his, claiming him hungrily, sinfully. Our kiss was fast, desperate, and greedy, tongues tangling, teeth grazing. He smacked my ass again, harder this time, and I moaned right into his mouth, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. My wetness soaked him through, slick and warm, and I whimpered, lost in the heat of it.
He eased me down onto the sofa bed, my back hitting the cushions. I spread my legs wide, shivering with anticipation, wanting him to see just how ready I was. His gaze roamed over me, dark and sinful, and my pulse raced. My fingers trembled as I grazed over my slick folds, teasing myself under his piercing stare. He inhaled sharply, closed his eyes, then slid his fingers inside me, moving expertly, slowly at first, then thrusting deeper, faster.
"Yes…Father…" I gasped, moaning his name as waves of pleasure rolled through me. My body quaked as he fingered me with a skill that left me burning from the inside out.
"Squirt for me, my Angel," he ordered, voice low and commanding, sending shivers down my spine. My body vibrated around his touch, every nerve alive with need.
"I am… I can—" I gasped, unable to form coherent words, lost in ecstasy. He drove me higher, his fingers thrusting deeper, hitting that spot that made me see stars. My mind spun with thoughts of him inside me, taking me fully, making me scream and shiver in complete surrender. He took off my gown and I lay back down total naked before him. His mouth went to claim my breasts. I moaned.
"Oh god… you make me cum," he groaned. My eyes widened, heart pounding. I wanted to taste him, feel him fully. My hands reached for him, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he revealed himself. Big, hard, throbbing, every inch perfect. My breath hitched, and I shivered, overwhelmed.
I cupped him in my hands, stroking eagerly. My mouth ached to take him in, to feel him buried deep inside me. My legs trembled as I imagined him entering me, filling me, taking my virginity with relentless, sinful heat.
I bent forward, about to take him into my mouth, about to let the warmth coat my tongue. My stomach tingled with anticipation, craving what I'd dreamed of for so long. Just as I was about to get lost in it, the sound of my mother's car horn pierced the air, snapping me back. "My mum…" I whispered, panicked. His length still in my hands, I licked the fluid from my palms, savoring every drop, tasting him like it was forbidden nectar. He quickly drew back, but I felt the ache of wanting him still deep inside me.
I stood and went to glance out the window, my mother was still in her car. Relief mixed with longing. I bent to grab his hands again, sliding his fingers back inside me. He didn't resist, thrusting faster and deeper, making me gasp and moan, my eyes rolling back as I pressed his head closer.
"This is heaven… I love this… I love you," I whispered, barely audible, burning with desire.
The sound of the car door shutting made him stop. His fingers left me, and I watched as he licked them clean. I reeked of sex, standing naked before him. He smacked my ass again, harder this time, making the sound echo through the room. His hands squeezed my hard nipples continuously, and I gasped, torn between pain and pleasure.
"Oh god… I want you… now… I want to fuck you until you scream, until you're lost to me," he murmured against my ear, voice low and dangerous. "I want to take you to the edge… show you what it means to truly feel… to melt under me."
"I… I want you too…" I whispered, shivering, pressing against him. "I want all of you… I want to feel you… I want you inside me…"
He cupped my neck, holding me steady. "Kneel," he commanded. I obeyed immediately, heart racing. He positioned himself, large and throbbing, ready for me. When he released, I swallowed with joy, licking every drop, savoring the taste, swallowing eagerly, feeling every drop.
He smiled, pulling me close for a heated kiss, whispering, "No panties. Sit beside me at dinner… I want to taste you, tease you… make it unforgettable. Your body, my pleasure… all of it."
I nodded, flushed, trembling, tasting him still on my tongue. He kissed my cheek, then quickly sprayed the sofa and room, masking the evidence of our sinful pleasure. The sound of footsteps grew closer, my mother approaching. I threw on my gown, grabbed the bag of vegetables, and raced to my room, heart hammering, body still alive with his touch, still tasting him on my lips, aching for more.
The moment I shut the door to my room, I froze. My ear pressed against it, straining. I could hear my mother speaking as I arranged my hair with both hands. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. The traffic was terrible," she said. I rolled my eyes and screamed inside my head. Why couldn't that traffic have kept her gone a little longer? We were on the brink of taking things to the next level. I wanted him, wanted him to fuck me everywhere: on the sofa bed, standing, bent against the wall. I wanted him to pound me until my head spun.
I moved in front of the standing mirror in my room. My reflection glowed, my hands on my waist as I relived the memory of what had just happened. I could still feel his fingers sliding deep inside me, my body tingling, my pussy aching for more. I turned my back, lifting my dress to reveal the fresh red strokes on my butt and thighs, painfully sweet, deliciously raw. I brushed my fingers over them and giggled. Oh lord.
I took a deep breath, looking at myself once more in the mirror, preparing to face my mother. I grabbed the bag of vegetables I had brought into the room and headed to the kitchen. My mum was placing drinks on a tray, not looking at me. "Saw the priest in the sitting room?" she asked casually. I swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I greeted him," I said, my voice calm, betraying nothing.
She glanced at me, pushing a lock of her black hair behind her ear. "Are you okay?" she asked, searching my eyes. "You're acting… kind of weird. Did anything happen while you were out?" Concern laced her tone, assuming I had only been gone for the vegetables, unaware of everything else. I shook my head. "Nope. Just stressful, but I'm fine," I assured her. She nodded and turned back to the tray. "Right. We're having dinner now. Take this to the dining table; the vegetables can wait." I obeyed, my heart still racing.
Sitting at the table, I made sure to follow instructions, sitting innocently beside father Chris while my mum sat a few inches away. I chewed my meal as he subtly, deliberately, let his hand glide over my thigh under the table. I gasped, spreading my legs slightly to give him more access. My pussy tingled, wet and needy. I could barely keep my moans in check, chewing my food to muffle them. He pushed his fingers deeper, rubbing and teasing me relentlessly while I tried to act normal, swallowing and biting my lips to hide the pleasure.
He used the same hand he'd been teasing me with to play with himself subtly under the table. I couldn't help but watch, my stomach flipping with desire. My own hand slipped under the table, seeking him, stroking him with ease since he hadn't buckled his belt. He was hard, heavy, warmth dripping into my palm, and I stroked him slowly, teasing, tasting, desperate for more.
My body burned with need, every nerve alight. My hand slick with him, I licked the fluid from my palm, savoring the taste. It was intoxicating, addictive, mingling with the subtle flavors of my meal. His smirk told me he knew exactly what I was doing, and I shivered, needing him deeper.
My legs trembling, I pressed closer under the table, wanting him to fuck me through this forbidden, thrilling encounter. The moans I tried to suppress spilled into gasps, my body betraying me. His fingers never stopped teasing me, slipping, thrusting, and my thighs shook with desire.
"Do you feel that?" I whispered in my head, imagining him fully, imagining him inside me. I wanted to feel him filling me, taking me past the edge. My body quaked, my pussy slick and hot, begging for more. The table, the food, my mother so close, it only made it more intense, more forbidden.
When dinner ended and my mother left to tidy the kitchen, I was trembling, desperate, soaked with want. Father Chris leaned closer, his gaze dark, dangerous, electric. "I'm not satisfied yet," he murmured, voice low, heavy, teasing.
"Me neither," I admitted softly, my pulse hammering in my ears. "I want you. I want everything from you."
A smirk curved his lips, dangerous and knowing. "Let's go somewhere private. I can't wait any longer."
I nodded eagerly, heart racing. Finally, finally, the forbidden, intense pleasure we had teased for so long would continue. I couldn't wait to feel him, to lose myself completely in him, in the heat, in the sin. My body ached, trembling with anticipation, craving the moment he would finally take me, and nothing would ever be the same again.