The Temptress

He ought to have done so, but we all have our failings. Whether out of a sincere determination to help me, or a secret, deep-seated carnal curiosity, he kept me in his flock. After what felt like an age of quiet, Father Michael shifted in his seat, and perhaps I imagined it, but I could have sworn I heard the sound of a heart thumping against its ribcage.

I delightfully pondered what my words had done to him. He was obviously shaken, and things beyond that were delicious to imagine. Had he felt the gut-wrenching knot one experiences when laying eyes on a lover? Were thoughts of my naked body cascading through his conflicted mind? Or was he sat there, at that moment, cock rock-hard under his cassock?

'I... Pray three Hail Marys as penance,' he eventually said.

I completed the act of contrition, then exited the confessional and completed my penance at the altar. I didn't speak to Father Michael again that night, only seeing him out of the corner of my eye as he left the confessional and hurried into the vestry.

I went home pleased. Progress had been made. We'd had contact, however innocent and fleeting, and he knew he'd been the object of my fantasies. As much as he fought it, there would be temptation, and what was on offer wasn't stones being turned to bread, or angels to break one's fall, or even all the kingdoms in the world. No, on offer was a hot young slut who—as he would soon find out—was willing to indulge any and all of his deepest sexual desires.

I stayed away from the church for three weeks—enough time to let the temptation fester and evoke in him the worry that his chance to have me may have passed.

He did a double take the Sunday I went back—late again to make sure he saw me. I gave him a polite smile, then took a seat on the rear-most pew. When the service ended, I didn't follow the rest of the congregation out, instead waiting for him to find me. When he did, he was withdrawn and distant, and I couldn't help but notice guilt in his eyes. My pulse quickened as I speculated as to why, while my pussy tingled as I imagined loads of priestly cum expelled to thoughts of me rubbing my horny clit.

'I didn't think you'd come back,' he said.

'I... I was embarrassed, to tell you the truth... after what I said in my last confession... I shouldn't have—'

He stopped me in my tracks. 'It's okay. Nothing is out of bounds, and you should own up to your sins, whatever they may be. You have nothing to apologise for; you just caught me by surprise.'

'Well... that's kind of you, Father,' I said sweetly.

He smiled weakly. 'I don't want you to feel perturbed from coming here because of what happened. You'd be a loss to this congregation, and to me personally.

'I don't want to go; I just want to make amends.'

'You've done penance, so all is well in the eyes of God. But there may be something you can help me with.'

'Of course,' I said.

'Our annual summer fete takes place next Saturday. Mrs Barker, who normally runs the cake stall, can't attend this year. It would be great if you could step in. You'd be doing me a favour, and it would give you a chance to get to know the congregation better.'

I beamed, scarcely able to believe the opportunity that had fallen into my lap.

'But I can't bake,' I said with feigned reluctance.

The priest smiled, his distant demeanour softening. 'No need, the cakes are brought by other members of the parish. You'll be selling them, not baking them.'

I accepted, and the Saturday of the fete soon arrived. I took time to prepare. Long gone would be the modest, homely woman he laid eyes on during our first meeting, replaced by a wanton succubus spawned in the lustiest circle of hell. I slipped on my dress, which was once again floral, but far more suggestive this time, ending halfway down my thighs and accentuating my breasts. I applied sultry makeup, topped off by inviting red lips. A spritz of fragrance provided the finishing touch, a trigger to remind him of the night of my sordid confession.

He asked me to arrive at the church an hour before the fete started. Members of the congregation were busy setting up stalls and games in the field behind the church, and I took the donated cakes to the cake stall and tried to arrange them in an artful display. I had even baked my own contribution— cute little misshapen fairy cakes that betrayed my lack of skill. As I was placing them on the counter, the Father Michael came up behind me.

'Sorry I haven't had a chance to say hello,' he said. 'It's been such a busy morning.'

'That's ok. It looks like it's going to be a fun day.'

'Did you bake those,' he asked, noticing the fairy cakes.

I smiled. 'How could you tell? Would you like to try one?'

'Why not,' he said, putting a pound into the collection jar.

I handed him one of the cakes and he took a bite. It left a trace of cream on his lips.

I giggled. 'You've got a bit of...' I took a step towards him to wipe it off. As I did, his expression changed—perhaps he had smelled my perfume. I felt a spike in my heartrate, sensing a moment between us. I looked over his shoulders and around, and after seeing no one looking our way, leaned in and licked the cream off his lips.

He pulled back and looked around in a panic. 'What are you doing?'

I went to grab his arm, but he turned and hurried back in the direction of the church. I licked my lips as he walked away, savouring the taste of not only the cream, but the subtle flavour of his mouth. I sat behind the counter, adrenaline pumping at what had just happened. I slipped two fingers under my dress and grazed them against my slit. My whole body quivered at the light touch, crying out to be filled with forbidden cock.

The fete got underway, and I found selling slices of Victoria Sponge while chatting to parishioners to be an enlightening and enjoyable experience. Plus, the naughtiness of doing so while my horny cunt was hot between my legs added a satisfying touch of exhilaration.

There were a few guys my age around—mostly sons of older members—who allowed themselves a few glances in my direction over the course of the day. They swiftly looked away when I caught them—a display of shyness and innocence with a certain charm. If only they'd known what this good church girl liked to do when the Lord wasn't looking.

Father Michael avoided me for the rest of the fete. I wasn't worried, I'd felt something that morning; his mind was waged in a battle between virtue and temptation, and I was sure he was close to breaking. Avoiding me was a good sign; it meant he didn't trust himself in my company.

The fete rumbled on like fetes do. Food was bought, games were played, and prizes were won. By late afternoon, things wound down and people started to leave. All the cakes had been sold, and I stayed on to help clear things away.

After the field had been cleared, the remainder of the congregation returned home. As always, I made sure I was the last to leave, and went into the church in search of my priest. He emerged from the vestry to see me sitting in a front pew, stopping him dead.

'I tried to help you in good faith,' he said. 'What you say in confession is one thing, but what you did this morning was unconscionable.'

I smiled internally. His anger was forced; he wasn't convinced of his words.

'Will you sit with me for a moment, Father?' I asked.

He sighed, weighing my request in his mind before coming over and reluctantly sitting down. Now was the time.

'I shouldn't have done what I did this morning. But I'm not going to lie to you, Father, I'm not sorry.'

He bristled with indignation. 'You're not—'

I slid towards him and put my finger to his lips. 'I'm not sorry because I felt something, and I think you felt it, too.'

He backed away. 'I'm a priest,' he said.

'And if you weren't?'

'I... that's not the point.'

I saddled up to him again. 'It is if you want me,' I whispered.

He looked at me then, a conflicting pain in his eyes, questioning why I'd done this to him. With a bite of my lips, I took his hand, slipped it under my dress, and placed it against my molten sex. His entire body tensed, but he didn't pull away. I held his hand in place for a moment, then gently moved it up and down my slick mound.

'You've never touched one of these before, have you? It's one of the sacrifices you had to make. Does it feel good?' I leaned in and lightly kissed his lips. 'Its wetness, its warmth.' I kissed him again. 'It's like that for you.'

'We shouldn't... I made a vow,' he whispered.

'Yet your hand's still against my pussy.'

He winced at the word, and then groaned as I moved his fingers up to my clit. 'Just small, gentle circles, and you can drive me crazy,' I breathed.

'I...'

'Heaven on Earth,' I whispered.

His suppressed primal urges finally overtook him. He leaned in and planted his lips on mine. Clumsily at first, but the passion and desire he unleashed sent a rush of pleasure coursing through my body. All notion of celibacy had gone from his mind as he invaded my mouth with his tongue, rubbing my clit at an ever-faster pace.

I was surprised when a few moans escaped my mouth. Despite his inexperience, his fingers worked with a pleasing instinct, and I found myself thinking that with practice he could be a competent lover. From that point on, all I wanted to do was guide him in the pleasures my body had to offer. I pushed his fingers down and slipped them into my wet hole. I told him where to stimulate, and he did so with lustful precision, my grateful moans spurring him on.

'I'm close,' I breathed as my quivering pussy approached the most sinful orgasm of its slutty existence. Seconds later I was gripping the pew so hard my knuckles turned white, cumming all over his sanctified hands. The response of my body made him wide-eyed, scarcely able to believe what he had done.

'You see how good you made me feel,' I panted between light kisses on his mouth and chin. 'I've wanted you to do that for so long... and now I want to do the same to you.'

He looked at me like a deer caught in headlights, powerless to escape its fate. I slid off the pew and onto my knees. With the sultry look of a horny demon, I slipped the straps of my dress down over my shoulders and exposed the creamy breasts I was sure had made his eyes pop. I kneaded the orbs artfully in my hands, allowing my priest's hitherto innocent eyes to drink in the sight.

Slowly, I snaked my hands up his cassock, eliciting an intake of breath as I wrapped my hand around his cock. I was surprised at its state of arousal; it met my fingers rock-hard, the years if pent-up desire, trapped through self-denial, demanding to be released. He looked at me with a fiendish huger as I massaged his holy manhood, coating my fingers with his first pearls of pre-cum.

'Does your cock feel good in my hand?' I said.

He nodded.

'It'll feel much better in my mouth.'

Without giving him a chance to reply, I began unbuttoning his cassock. Thirty-three buttons, one for each of Christ's years on Earth, now yielding to sin. I thought the symbolism poignant as I sank my lips around his glans. Father Michael groaned and slouched back in the pew, the creaking of the wood a momentary disruption to the slurps of my lapping tongue. I could feel him tensing, and my pussy vibrated with electric jolts as I bestowed forbidden pleasure upon him. I undulated faster and faster, losing myself in the act as his engorged head bumped against the back of my throat.

I released him in a trail of saliva, looking up at him with the enflamed eyes of a woman possessed. The location, the taboo, the subject of my conquest was too much to bear, and my pussy demanded to be filled.

'I want you to fuck me,' I growled, 'take me right here in this church under the eyes of God.'

One last flicker of doubt crossed his face, which I banished by clamping my lips to his, intertwining our tongues. Without prompt, he pushed me back and, rather than end the encounter as I feared he might, took one of my erect nipples into his mouth. In a display of assertion that he hadn't shown before, he pulled me onto the pew so I straddled his lap, grabbing my arse as he flicked my nipples with his tongue. I was so engrossed in the sensation that it came as a complete shock when his cock entered my pussy. There had been no teasing, no warning; it just slid unimpeded deep into my cunt. I cried out in pleasure, the unexpected nature of his invasion amplifying the ecstasy surging through my veins.

He looked at me with the rogue twinkle in his eyes of innocence lost. Nothing needed to be said; his vow had been irreparably broken, and the only thing left to do was surrender to the sinful pleasure. I gyrated my hips slowly, conscious that the sensation was new to him. There was nothing rough or raw about the moment, just two people making taboo, gentle love. I kissed his lips lightly, savouring the smooth strokes of his cock against my walls.

'Tell me when you're getting close,' I whispered.

Once sex began, it was normally my conquests who took control, husbands or long-term boyfriends—who deep down had grown tired of fucking only one woman—desperate to use my body to relieve their suppressed biological drives. It turned me on to have a different dynamic with Father Michael, the vulnerability of him in my sordid embrace, trusting me to guide him through his fall from grace.

When I felt his body begin to tense, I slowed my pace, bringing him back from the edge. I alighted his lap, my dress falling back over my inflamed sex. The disappointment in his eyes was palpable, and I reassured him with a smile that things were far from over. I sashayed over to the altar, the final act of blasphemy hot like a firebrand on my mind. I placed my palms on the altar cloth and lifted my dress, bearing my horny young pussy like a sacrifice.

I didn't look back, instead fixing my eyes on the silver crucifix in front of me. While staring at the forlorn expression of Christ, my ears were attuned for the movements of his earthly representative. The pew creaked again as Father Michael stood, and each of his footsteps across the old stone floor felt like a tremor in my soul. My loins tingled as I sensed his approach, the anticipation almost too much to bear. He eventually stepped up to the altar, hovering behind me as though awaiting instructions.

I turned, meeting his eyes with a loving expression. 'I want you to show me how much you've wanted this. Make love to me, and cum inside me.'

I turned back to face the crucifix and gave Christ a wicked smile as Father Michael's sinful cock slid into my cunt. Despite the more animalistic position, his thrusts remained careful and slow. I pushed against his pelvis, encouraging his entire length into my depths.

'Faster,' I pleaded, 'don't think about it, just enjoy the feeling and let yourself go.'

My encouragement worked; he increased the speed and penetration of his thrusts, giving me spasms of pleasure as his cock buried into me. After a few strokes I felt him swell, approaching the point of no return.

'Faster,' I panted, reaching down and ravaging my clit with one hand while clasping the altar with the other. He obeyed as I rubbed myself to a gushing orgasm, soaking his abundant length. As my knees almost buckled under the pleasure, he leaned into me with a groan, thrusting his cock as deep as it would go. I screamed the Lord's name in vain as lashings of priestly cum erupted into me, painting my insides with a lifetime of repressed desire.

'Mmm that's it, Father, let it all out,' I said as he grunted breathlessly, overwhelmed by his first climax inside a woman. I looked to the vaulted ceiling and smiled as I pictured the Lord looking down, lamenting another of his children having succumbed to temptation.

Finally, my priest had no more to give, and I locked him in a sensual kiss as his seed trickled out of me and down my thighs. I knew that soon the chemical cocktail of pleasure he was experiencing would recede, leaving only horror at what he had done.

It was when I sensed the beginnings of regret that I took my leave. I left him at the altar, staring emptily at the image of Christ. Although there were no hearts to break, no family to tear apart, I suspected that the waters of sorrow now drowning him were just as cold as if there had been. I sat in my car, pussy a creamy mess beneath my summer dress. Running my fingers blissfully through my folds, I coated my fingers with the still-hot liquid and drew them to my mouth.

There would be no earthly repercussions for his betrayal, but it satisfied me knowing that the remainder of his life would be occupied by supernatural turmoil. As for my suspicion that he loved me, knowing that his lust would endure long after I was gone made his cum taste all the sweeter.

The Geek

I have a friend, Chloe, who's a little bit geeky. We're different in many respects—she disapproves of and has no interest in my seductions—but are as close as two people can be, and I enjoy occasionally dipping my toe into her bizarre world of interests and hobbies.

That was the object of one Saturday afternoon; she had invited me to join three of her friends at a boardgame café. After introductions and pleasantries, we took our seats around a table and I got to know my new companions for the day over intense games of Zombicide and Cosmic Encounter. They were friendly and down to earth but, as you might expect, introverted and perhaps a little weird.

Talk about amine and video games sailed over my head, but when the conversation turned to a topic that I was more familiar with—relationships—I learned that two of my new companions were in fact dating.

'How long have Adam and Emily been together?' I asked Chloe after we'd gone up to the counter to order some drinks.

'Not long, less than a month,' she replied. 'It was really cute actually—not that you care about that sort of thing.' Her comment wasn't a slight; our different views on sex and relationships was a regular avenue for light-hearted teasing between us. 'They've been friends for years,' she continued, 'and liked each other for a long time. They were just too shy to do anything about it until now.'

'What changed?' I asked.

'The rest of us kind of pressured him into asking her out. It was adorable; he was so scared she'd say no, but we knew there was no chance of that.'

I stared back at the table with a thoughtful look on my face. It didn't escape Chloe's notice.

'Wait... what are you thinking? Don't get any of those bullshit seduction ideas in your head,' she hissed, 'they're the best thing to happen to each other in a long time. Besides, it wouldn't work anyway.'

She shouldn't have said that last part, as she had absentmindedly laid down a challenge. Nonetheless, I held my hands up in supplication and assured her that wasn't my intention. We took the drinks back to the table where I spent the rest of the afternoon observing the two new lovebirds. Normally new relationships weren't on my radar—things tended not to be serious enough, and if they were, connections were not sufficiently profound, vows not sufficiently ingrained, to make infidelity a seismic betrayal. These two had history, though, and the more I observed, the more I realised how besotted they truly were.

I was certain as to why. With the exception of each other, it was hard to imagine them having much success with the opposite sex, and I suspected that this mutual understanding made them value what they had. Although cute in their own way, neither would win any beauty contests. He was slightly chubby, she as skinny as a rake. Her face was blemished with the remnants of acne, while he sported a few days' worth of stubble under a head of unkempt hair.

In fact—you may hate me for saying this, although it's far from the worst thing I've done—I can say with confidence that I was the hottest person at the cafe. Others must have thought so too; as well as looks I drew from men around the room, Tom, the third of Chloe's friends, was sneaking glances when he though I wouldn't notice. Adam, on the other hand, paid me no such attention, a fact that made him even more intriguing. I hadn't turned my sex appeal up to the max for this casual outing, but between my tight jeans and figure-hugging jumper, my fuckable body was on sufficiently on display.