Forgive Me, Father

"Such a holy whore for me," I murmur, teasing your entrance with the head of my cock. "So ready to be fucked..."

You whimper in that pathetic way that drives me wild.

"Beg for it," I tell you.

"Fuck," you pant, bucking your hips. "Please fuck me with your big butch cock, Daddy. Fuck my tight, wet, needy pussy. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..."

If the Holy Ghost is a consuming fire, then your begging has to be sacred to somebody, because every nerve in my body sparks with your greedy hips and your needy voice. "Good boy," I hiss, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand and guiding my cock into your dripping pussy with the other.

"Oh fuck," you moan, low and deep, as I enter you. "Oh fuck... Oh fuck..." Your hands clench into fists, still pinned. "Oh, God," you moan when I reach the hilt and our thighs are touching.

I mutter under my breath, in awe at the sight of you taking me in (christalfuckingmighty), and fuck into you. Slow, deep. I match the rhythm of your hips and press your wrists into the carpet of the chancel, bringing the fingers of my other hand to your mouth.

You lick and suck eagerly, always ready to take something in your mouth, like a good slut with an oral fixation. My eyes flutter and my nostrils flare as I feel your hot mouth take my fingers. You moan, and I mumble, "Fuck."

For a span of time that is both an eternity and about a minute, I fuck your mouth with my fingers and your cunt with my cock, pulling muffled whines and moans out of you until my fingers are slick with your spit. "Good boy," I growl, hungry for the way your mouth eagerly accepts me.

And then I fingerfuck your mouth a little more, just because the heat of your mouth and your soft tongue lapping at me is too good to resist. Never mind the noises you're making.

As your wrists flex and tense under my grip and your hips buck harder into me, I pull my fingers from your mouth and stroke two wet fingers around your clit.

"Oh my God," you moan. You look me in the eyes while bucking hard on my fingers. "Please, please, please," you start begging.

"Please what, pretty boy?" I ask, amused.

"Ugh, God, please... Please make me cum, Daddy, fuck, please..."

"You want to cum? Already? Such a filthy whore... You need it that badly, huh?"

"God, yes, God, please, Daddy," you beg, and it's so deliciously pathetic that I can't help but laugh as I fuck you a little faster.

"God, you're such a slut, begging for it already. Practically the patron saint of boytoys." I press you down with the weight of my body, rolling my hips deep into yours so my cock fills every inch of you with each thrust in. My fingers work your clit faster, matching our rhythm.

Your begging becomes a little more urgent and a little less coherent with each movement of my fingers, my cock, your hips: "Please, God, Daddy, God, please, can I cum?"

"Who are you asking, boytoy, God or me?"

"You, Daddy. Pleeease, Daddy. Please, please, please... I'll be so good for you, Daddy."

I don't deny you. I just don't answer. Not yet.

I shift my pace up, though, fucking you hard and fast, relishing the feeling of your thighs starting to shake under mine.

The way you're begging, the base of my cock on my clit, and your desperate face are coaxing me dangerously close. I grit my teeth and move my hand from your wrists to your throat, resting it at the base of your neck.

"You want to cum, boy? You want to cum right here in front of the altar like the dirty, shameless little whore you are for Daddy?"

"Oh God, yes, Daddy. Yes, Daddy. Fuck. I'm your dirty little whore, Daddy. I'm yours. Make me cum like a dirty little slut..." you moan.

It hits me directly in the gut, in the skull, in my cock, and I force your gaze to mine with a hand on your jaw.

"Then show me. Cum on my butch cock like the filthy slut you are."

"Ohh," you moan. "Yes, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy. Please, fuck, I'm so close, oh God, oh God, oh my God..."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when your orgasm hits you hard. You tremble and shake, barely stuttering out a desperate "Oh!". I fuck you through it all, not stopping the movements of my hips or my fingers until you sigh and relax your body, spent.

It's when you relax that the tension in my core snaps. The sight of your fucked out bliss sends me over the edge, and I cum with a shudder and a snarl, fucking deep into you a final time.

In the long breath after, as your breathing slows, I press my forehead to yours, eyes closed, silent.

"Daddy..." you murmur quietly, after a long moment. "Thank you."

"You're so welcome, good boy," I chuckle. Even this quiet, our voices echo around the high rafters of the empty church.

When I can stand the idea of it, I pull out of you slowly. My cock is absolutely drenched with your cum, and I'm probably going to have to make use of the hem of my cassock and the holy water font for... unintended purposes, before I leave.

I tug your boxers and dress pants back up your calves and thighs, muttering soft praise in your ear and running my clean hand through your hair. You took your punishment well, I tell you, and you earned every second of your absolution.

"Thank you, Father."

I graze my thumb along your soft bottom lip, and you reflexively open up for me. I chuckle at you, your mouth always so eager.

You button your shirt up, and I regret to see your beautiful skin covered up again. Fully dressed, we sneak out of the church as the bell strikes midnight.

The next morning is Sunday church service. I overhear you praying.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..."