I never thought I’d be on my knees in a dark confessional booth, p***y dripping down my thighs, about to confess the most disgusting sins of my life to the one man who was supposed to save my soul—my stepfather, Father Elias. The priest who had married my mother three years ago and who now served as the stern, respected leader of our parish. At twenty-two, I should have known better. But the ache between my legs and the twisted need in my gut had driven me here on a rainy Sunday evening, long after the last parishioners had left.
The wooden booth smelled of old incense, polished oak, and something darker—my own shameful arousal. I knelt on the hard cushion, my short plaid skirt hiked up around my waist, fingers already teasing my swollen c**t through soaked lace panties as I waited for hi
