Temptations

Father John smiled at the man seated across from him, watching carefully as he completed writing out the check. Alexander Murphy was one of the church's greatest contributors. The Murphy family's donations were double what their other parishioners offered. It was Father John's job to make sure that Mr. and Mrs. Murphy were kept happy so that the donations wouldn't stop. The middle-aged man pushed the check across the shiny surface of the desk, and Father John placed it in a locked drawer for safekeeping until it would be cashed the following morning. "Once again, Mr. Murphy, your offerings are a miracle for this church," John said. "Your good deeds in this house of our Lord and Savior do not go unnoticed."

"It's nothing," Alexander laughed. "After all, my family's been going to this church since you and I were children. I'm happy to be able to give back to it." H

e got to his feet and glanced at Father John thoughtfully. "And speaking of children, why don't you come by for dinner this evening? Rachel is coming home from her first year of college for her spring break, and we're planning a special 'Welcome Home' meal for her."

"I wouldn't miss it," Father John agreed. He remembered Rachel Murphy well. As a fresh-faced, newly appointed priest of 20 years of age, young Rachel had been the first baby Father John had ever baptized. He'd also been the one who performed the ceremony on her thirteenth birthday when the church recognized her as a young lady. She'd been sent away shortly after that to a private boarding school, so he hadn't been present for most of her teenage years.

Judging by his own age, Rachel Murphy would be right at her 19th birthday soon. He was curious to see how she'd grown up, and not only that, his presence at her return dinner would keep the Murphy family happy and content. And since a content family was also a well-paying family, Father John felt it was his duty to the church to pay a visit that evening.

It was around seven in the evening when he came to call, bringing along a lovely cake for dessert and a bouquet of pink roses for Rachel. Alexander's wife ushered him in and led him to a rather comfortable sitting room. "Alexander is out picking up Rachel right now," she informed Father John. "I'm in the middle of dinner, but please, make yourself at home."

After delivering a glass of cool iced tea, she disappeared into the kitchens again and left Father John to pass the time alone. He wandered around the room, admiring the large collections of books resting on the bookshelves and the large family crest that adorned one of the walls by the door. Lost in his contemplations, he didn't realize someone had entered the room until a soft voice called out to him.

"Well, well...if it isn't the good Father? Come to welcome me home?"

Father John turned, and nearly gaped in surprise. The young woman standing in the doorway had to be Rachel, but the change in her was amazing. The young and freckle-faced girl she had been had blossomed into the smooth features she bore now. Hair the shade of carrots had either deepened or been dyed to the color of autumn leaves. Despite his reservations, Father John couldn't keep his eyes from admiring how her body had ripened. She was wearing the traditional Catholic college uniform: a dark pleated skirt and white blouse, with knee socks and soft leather Mary Janes. But the way she wore the uniform made it look utterly sinful.

Beneath that snow-colored blouse, Rachel Murphy sported what appeared to be an utterly huge pair of breasts. They strained against the button front, so much so that beneath the white fabric he could see clearly the delicate lace designs of her bra. Her waist curved in, emphasizing the "hourglass" shape of her body. Her hips flared nicely just under the waistband of her pleated skirt, so that even amidst the folds you could tell the shape of her body as she walked. Her thighs above the knee socks were tight and firm. The calves of her legs curved down into delicate ankles above the leather shoes.

Father John's eyes came up again to rest on her breasts, and he realized with a sudden start that his body was starting to react in a less-than-pure manner towards this girl. He jerked his gaze up to meet her eyes. When he saw the impish light in those hazel orbs, he knew that Rachel Murphy knew exactly the effect her body was having on him. She smiled at him and announced, "Mother said to tell you dinner is almost done. Would you like to follow me to the table?" She turned and flounced out of the room, leaving him to follow her with a blush staining his cheeks.

He really tried to concentrate during dinner. Elanore Murphy was a wonderful cook, and the food was savory. Thankfully everyone was interested in Rachel's college tales, and so he gratefully turned his attention onto his pot roast. He hadn't been interested in a woman since high school, so it was hard for him to comprehend his sudden fascination with the daughter of his greatest contributor.

Maybe it was the uniform; he'd heard several confessions of people fantasizing about young women in Catholic schoolgirl garb. Whatever caused the attraction to the young spitfire, he couldn't act on his desires. Not only did his faith not condone that type of action, but he also couldn't put the church needs in danger over a girl. Father John did his best to ignore the pretty tones of her young voice as she related stories, and instead concentrated on pushing his green beans around his plate.

It went well until he dropped his fork, the utensil spiraling under the table so far he had to crawl beneath to retrieve it. Elanore told him to ignore it, that she would get him another, but he insisted on at least getting it back and crawled under the tablecloth to claim the silver fork. As his hand closed around it, he looked up and nearly hit his head on the bottom of the table in shock. Rachel had been sitting directly across from him, and now she used that to her advantage when she knew he was under the table. Her legs were spread wide in front of him, giving him a clear shot of the lacy white panties she wore beneath her navy skirt.

She knew he was gaping at her, and brought one hand beneath as well, rubbing the crotch of her underwear with her fingers. Father John was speechless, helpless to do anything but watch the slender white digits rub up and down the damp cloth over and over. He could smell her scent, a mixture of woman and perfume. Rachel chatted with her parents as if nothing was happening, while underneath the tablecloth she hooked her fingers in the side of her panties, pulling the crotch away so he was looking directly at her pussy. Father John stared at that tiny pink slit, glistening with her juices and framed by a triangle of reddish-gold curls.

If his cock has stirred to life before, it was now fully awake, pushing against the fly of his slacks with painful force. Rachel slid her middle finger up and down the wet entrance to her pussy, then in one swift motion slid it up inside of herself. She pulled it partially out and plunged it back in, and of its own accord his hand came down, cupping the significant bulge in the front of his trousers. Alexander's voice caught him off-guard.

"Father, are you okay down there?" He asked, and Father John hastily made his way out from under the table.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, looking from Alexander to Elanore. "I...couldn't find the fork."

He glanced over at Rachel, who was smiling like an angel. "Will you please excuse me?" Father John asked. "I need to use your restroom." He was careful to keep his rampant erection hidden from them as he made his way out of the dining room.

Once in the confines of the bathroom, he fought to control himself. Damn that little slut, he cursed to himself. He sat on the closed toilet lid, waiting for his engorged sex to dwindle to normal, and tried to think of some excuse to get the hell out of the house. He could tell Alexander that he had something important to take care of at the church, and that he couldn't stay for dessert. Or he could take the "community" excuse and say that he had to visit another family in the area.

He was pondering over the possibilities when suddenly the bathroom door swung open. Rachel walked brazenly inside, the bathroom skeleton key in her fingers, and shut and locked the door behind her.

"Rachel," Father John stammered. "You have to leave here. What are your parents going to think?"

"Right now my mom is clearing the table and my father is cleaning up the kitchen," she purred. "You don't have to worry about them, Father."

"Why are you doing this?" He asked weakly. She came to the toilet and stood in front of him, hands on her hips as she looked down at him. Laughing, she dropped to her knees and brought her hands up to caress the outline of his cock beneath his pants.

"Who would have known Father John had such a big dick?" Rachel mused, her fingers going up towards the zipper.

He made one last effort to stop her, seizing her wrist in his hand. "Don't do it, Rachel. Please."

"Why?" She murmured. "I know you want me. I felt the way you were watching me." Rachel ran her hand under his nose. He could smell her scent from when she'd been fingering herself at the dinner table. "Besides, you don't have a choice. If you don't let me do what I want, I'll tell my daddy that you pulled me in the bathroom with you and tried to touch me. And your church will never see another dime from my family again."

"You are a witch," he hissed, but her fingers were already pulling down the metal tab, the jagged teeth opening for her hand. She groaned in approval when she pulled out the long shaft from its confines.

"What's wrong, Father?" Rachel teased, her fingers sliding up and down the length of his satiny member. "Are you ashamed, wanting a little Catholic girl like me? Did you ever think when you were baptizing me as a baby you'd be fucking me in my bathroom eighteen years later?" She brought her mouth to the purplish head, her tongue darting out to lick the gathered fluids on its tip. Then her lips closed around the tip of him, and slid down. The heat of her mouth engulfed him as she went down on his cock, her tongue rubbing against the underside of his shaft as she swallowed him in. He was too long for her to take fully, but she made do with what she could take.

College had taught little Rachel Murphy to be an expert cocksucker. She knew just how to suck and lick and bite, her hands alternating between jacking him off and rubbing the loose sac that hung beneath. Father John had only been with one other girl, before he had dedicated his life to the religion. He'd forgotten how much ecstasy a woman could bring, his hips rising off the toilet in an desperate attempt to cram himself further down the girl's throat. She tortured and teased him, always keeping him on the verge of his pleasure but always denying him the final explosion.

When she thought him aroused enough, Rachel pulled back and began unbuttoning her blouse for him. His eyes followed every button, until she pulled the shirt open and he saw the fleshy globes of her breasts, large behind the barrier of her bra.

"Mmmm, you liked these, didn't you?" Rachel asked, undoing the front clasp of her bra. She had to be at least a double-D cup, the mounds of pale flesh capped by large, baby-pink nipples. Her hands came up, cupped the weight of her gorgeous tits for him. She pinched her nipples and rolled them between her fingers, bringing the crests to full erection for him. Then Rachel reached between her skirt and he saw movement beneath. Seconds later, he saw the white bundle of her underwear slide down her legs so she could step out of them.

"I want to feel you in me," she commanded. All thoughts of his faith, all thoughts of her parents were gone. All that burned in Father John now was the desperate need to plunge into her, to end the painful throbbing of his cock. He leaned back on the toilet so she could mount him. Facing him, she straddled his lap and guided him to her entrance, rubbing him back and forth on her slit to make entry easier for him. Then Rachel sank down slowly, her nether mouth opening to engulf first the head, then the shaft of his cock.

She may not have been able to take him fully in her throat, but her pussy was prepared for the enormous length of him. She took him all, until she was sitting flush on his lap and his balls were pressed against her round little bottom. "Oh, god," she panted, and rocked her hips back and forth on him to feel the way the head of his sex rubbed on her inner walls. Father John fought not to move, savoring the way her tight little hole squeezed around him wetly.

She was soft and moist and divine, sitting there on his lap. Rachel cupped one of her enormous breasts in one hand, feeding it to him. "Suck it," she ordered, and he did, taking the whole nipple in at one time, sucking hard. She flexed her thighs and rose up halfway on him, then plunged down again. He caught on to what she wanted and began to move inside her, pulling out to the rim of the head, then thrusting his shaft back in. He buried his face in between the sweet globes of her breasts and fucked her in earnest, lifting them both off the toilet with his thrusts while she reached between them to finger her own clit.

"You better hurry, Father," she chanted in his ear. "What would my daddy think if he came in and saw you fucking his little girl?"

"What would your daddy think if he found out his little girl was such a slut?" Father John grunted back, but he increased the tempo of his thrusts to hurry the process. He grabbed her hips under the skirt, allowing her to use her free hand to reach back and rub his balls. It had been a long time, and he was reaching his crisis faster than he liked with every slap of her flesh against him. Rachel felt his balls tighten under her palm and knew he was nearly at his end.

"You can come inside me," she moaned. "I'm on the pill." Her voice groaning those words in his ear was enough to push him over the edge. He felt the surge of sperm, long overdue, zinging along the rigid length of his cock, until it exploded into her in violent shots. Rachel squealed as he filled her, fingering her clit faster until she was joining him in his pleasure, the tight little pussy spasming wildly around him in time with his own as he thrust deep.

She smiled when she pulled off of him, bringing her mouth down to his softening cock to clean it of their mingled juices before tucking him into his pants again. Father John weakly got to his knees, still under the influence of the pleasure he'd just experienced. He watched her put one foot up on the toilet and use the balled-up underwear to scoop his seed from her pink folds.

"You better get downstairs, Father John. My mom is probably putting dessert on the table right now. I'll be down in a moment." Rachel grinned, and he was all too happy to flee the confines of the bathroom, to free himself from the huntress that had just snared him as her prey.

Rachel's parents didn't suspect a thing. Father John was extremely uncomfortable sitting across from Rachel again at the table, eating the cake he'd brought. The thought of her sitting over there with no underwear on under her skirt, some of his fluids still deep inside her unnerved and strangely aroused him. He didn't know whether he wanted to fuck her again or kill her. When dessert was finished, the family escorted him to the door. Alexander thanked him for coming to see his daughter again; Father John almost burst into laughter at the remark.

Elanore and Rachel gave him hugs, but Rachel whispered in his ear that the next day she'd be coming up to the church for "confession".

"After all," she grinned, "I have interesting things to tell you in the booth." The look in her eye was hungry, and also deadly, and it was clear she planned on making him her sexual outlet for the rest of her spring break.

Father John weakly nodded; what else could he do? He'd fallen under the spell of the little witch, and if he didn't succumb to her charms, she'd tell her father all. That was the price of temptation: you either gave in, or got burned by the flames.

He turned away from Rachel's wicked smile and left, making his way into the night back to the church.