“I’m sorry, Father Roman, I know it’s wrong, and I know I’m a wicked, wicked girl for doing this to you.” When I hear her voice crack through a sob, I burst upright.
“You are not wicked,” I exclaim loud enough for people in the church to hear us, making me hope and pray there aren’t any. But it’s Christmas, so it’s possible.
We need to get out of here. This isn’t the place. She thinks she needs to confess to a priest, but what she needs is to cry on the shoulder of her friend.
The only problem is, my body is betraying me at the moment and has some very different plans.
“Meet me in my office. Right now,” I say with deep assertiveness. Without another word, I burst through the door, finding the church, thankfully, empty as I walk quickly toward my office. Glancing downward, I notice my dick is hard and tenting the black fabric of my pants, so I do a little rearranging when I’m alone. My office is at the end of the hallway and as I reach the empty solace of the room, I shut myself in and brace my hands on my desk.
What the fuck is happening today? How could Cora and I go five whole years together without ever letting this become an issue, but today, I'm like a kettle about to burst?
I never looked at her like that...did I?
No. No.
Trying to calm my racing heart and quick breathing, I think back through my memories, trying to picture the sweet girl I’ve come to know so well. I picture her tiny fifteen-year-old frame, but she was just a child. There was not a single inappropriate thought in my head then. I wanted to protect her, to keep her safe.
Then, I remember her a few years later, coming into the church in the middle of summer, escaping the blazing heat to rest her bare legs on the cool stone floor where she quietly read through her Bible study passages.
My hand rubs hard against the steel rod in my pants, and it feels so good, I let out a moan. I am sick for thinking like this. I am sick and she is my illness.
The door behind me creaks as it opens, and I squeeze my eyes closed. I need to tell her to leave. I know it will hurt her, but I can’t let things go too far. Obviously, the devil is on my shoulder today, tempting me, putting these thoughts in my head.
“Father Roman?” she whispers, and I realize my hand is still pressed hard to my cock, and I can’t seem to tear it away. “Is this my fault? Am I doing this to you? Am I... hurting you?”
I spin on my heels and stare down at the girl with tears brimming in her eyes.
“Cora, no. This is not your fault.” Her eyes dance quickly down and back up.
“Would you like me to leave?”
“No, I wouldn’t like that at all.” The honesty bursts through my lips before my mind can think too long about a proper answer.
“Then how do we recover from this? How do we go back to being just you and me? Because I can’t stand the thought of never being here with you again. I can’t stand it.”
“I can’t stand it either,” I say.
We are silent for a moment, staring at each other. She still looks on the verge of tears, and I’m still struggling to breathe at a normal pace.
“What if…” she whispers, taking one small step forward. I watch as she wets her lips. “What if these feelings have been stored up and ignored for too long? What if we are both about to burst with something we’ve never satisfied?”
The air leaves my lungs as she takes another step closer.
Tell her to stop. Tell her to leave.
“What if I could help you relieve it now?” Her voice is so sweet, my cock twitches in my pants, as if he’s reacting to her on his own, reaching out to the only thing he wants. “Would that help?”
She’s standing only a foot away from me now, the look on her face says she’s terrified, waiting for me to save her from this humiliation. If I turn her down, it’s over. She’ll never be comfortable with me again, and I couldn’t live with myself if that happens.
It’s hardly a fair rationale to let her touch me and cross this line, but it already feels too late to turn back now.
“Is that what you want to do?” I ask.
She pauses before answering. “Is it bad if I do?”
“Not at all.”
“Can I?”
My eyes focus on the pouty, pink fullness of her lip pinched between her teeth. I take in one last breath before I throw myself headfirst into this sin. I nod my head two times, and she takes the final step toward me.
We are inches apart now, and the second I feel her pressed against my cock, I shudder from my roots to my head. With her eyes on my face, she places her trembling hands on my chest.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.
Jesus, help me.
She’s nervous, scared even, and my body seems to almost rejoice in that. With a hand on the back of her neck, I give her a reassuring squeeze. Then with my lips against her head, I whisper, “Unbutton my pants and pull down the zipper.”
Her fingers cascade down my chest, reaching my pants, and at first, I flinch. But she doesn’t stop. The sound of the zipper coming down echoes so loudly in the room, I’m afraid it could be heard miles away.
“Now what?” she asks.
“Reach into my boxers and find my cock.” There’s a tiny gasp and she pulls away to look into my eyes, surprised that I cursed in front of her, as if that is somehow the worst thing I’m doing right now.
After the initial shock wears off, her lips pull up into a sly grin. Then she does as I said, looking down as she slides her still-trembling hand into my boxers. The moment her warm skin touches my rock-hard dick, I have to grab onto her for support.
“It’s so smooth,” she breathes. I let her explore the length for a moment, running her hand softly along the shaft and over the head, but the entire time I have to bite my tongue to keep from exploding. She’s only started, and I hate to just unload on her right away. She’s not quite ready for that.
When that time does come, I’ll grab a tissue off the desk.
Fuck—what am I doing? This is insane.
But there’s no going back now.
“Now what?”
She nervously stares up at me, looking for guidance. Reaching down, I lay a hand over hers, squeezing hard as I guide her hand in a stroking motion. Then, I lean my forehead down until my brow is resting against hers. If I could breathe, I’m sure I’d be inhaling the same air as her.
The feel of her warm skin against my cock is like my heart being caught in a vice grip There is tension from my cock to the top of my head and with every strum of her hand, I'm afraid I might break.
“Is this okay?” she whispers, and I let go of her hand to grab her by the hips and hold her closer.
“Yes,” I say, my voice strangled as I try to hold back the urge to come.
I keep my eyes on her lips, so soft and pink and familiar to me. This is the girl who used to spend her weekend nights with me here at the church. I feel like I’ve watched her grow into the woman she is today, and it almost feels like the first time I’m noticing that she is a woman.
Knowing that this moment is about to end with me unloading five years of pent-up sexual aggression in the palm of her hand, I pull her face up to mine and kiss her while I have the chance. She lets out a small yelp as our lips collide, and her hand stops moving when my tongue slides between her teeth, as a wave shudders through me.