Father’s Forbidden Grip

His thumb dug into his belt, bible clutched like a weapon in that black-shirted fist, clerical collar gleaming under the chandelier’s glow as Father stood framed by the wooden shutters, eyes drilling into me where I knelt on the confessional bench. The room smelled of polished oak and faint incense, my heart pounding ’cause I’d confessed my dirtiest fantasies—sucking cock, craving ass play—and now his goateed smirk said absolution came with a price. “Strip, boy,” he growled low, voice thick like aged whiskey. Shit, my dick throbbed as I peeled off my clothes, socks staying on like some twisted altar boy uniform, leaving me naked, vulnerable, skin prickling in the warm light.

I bent over the low bench, ass up high, cheeks parting just enough to tease. He stepped up behind me, still fully dressed—pants tented hard—his rough hands landing first on my hips, then sliding to grip my cheeks like dough. “Such a greedy little hole, begging for sin,” he murmured, thumbs prying me open wide. Fuck, the air hit my exposed pucker, cool and shocking, making it wink involuntarily. I moaned, face burning against the wood, “Father, please… I’ve been so bad.” His breath ghosted hot over my crack, musky with his arousal, fingers kneading deeper, spreading me obscenely so sunlight striped my pink ring.

One hand stayed splayed on my left globe, the other dove in, thick middle finger circling my rim slow, teasing the sensitive flutter. Sweat beaded on my back, dripping salty down my spine as he pressed, breaching just the tip—raw, no lube but my own dripping excitement. “Tight as a virgin’s vow,” he hissed, pumping shallow, my hole clenching greedy around the invasion. I bucked back, socks slipping on the floor, whimpering like a slut, “Deeper, Father, fuck out my sins.” The wet squelch echoed filthy in the room, his clothed crotch grinding my thigh, veiny bulge throbbing through fabric.

He switched hands, both now mauling my ass, pulling cheeks apart till I felt stretched to breaking, hole gaping for his gaze. Spit suddenly—his—drooled hot down my cleft, lubing the probe as two fingers scissored in, hitting that spot that made stars burst. My cock leaked pre-cum in ropes, untouched, balls tight aching. Vulnerability hit hard amid the lust; this holy man owning my body, turning guilt to fire, whispering, “You’re mine to corrupt.” Moans tore from my throat, body trembling, ass fucking his hand desperate.

But as his zipper rasped open, fat cock slapping my cheek heavy and leaking, I froze—he wasn’t done prepping; his beard scratched my skin before his tongue plunged rim-first, devouring my hole like forbidden fruit. Holy fuck, the suction, the growl vibrating deep… little did I know, the door creaked—another confession waiting—but Father just latched tighter, promising the real desecration was thrusting that priestly dick balls-deep next.