Dark Side of the Cloth by Brooklyn Cross
Yasmine’s frustration with Dean was increasing with every minute that ticked away. He’d arrived at the hospital with the jerk that had hurt Mabel, saying that the guy wanted to apologize. She didn’t care how many times he apologized. She was never going to forgive him for what he did to Mabel. She almost lost the last person that loved her because of that creep. Then Dean proceeded to say that he was going to take the guy to rehab but would be back in a few days. Why he couldn’t drop him off at the closest one and be done with it, she didn’t understand. Mabel said it was because it was his nature to fix and protect.
Now, she could’ve forgiven him for wanting to help the guy and not returning to the hospital as he had promised. He was a priest, after all. But she was also very aware that Dean was back in town, and he hadn’t come to see her or call her or anything. It had been two weeks, and it was obvious he was ghosting her.
He had invited her to talk, and it had really seemed like so much more, but flaking out and disappearing on her again?
“That’s it, I’ve had enough of this.”
“What did you say, dear? I couldn’t hear you over the water running,” Mabel called out from the kitchen.
“Nothing, just mumbling to myself. I’ll be back to check on you later. I need to run an errand.”
“Okay, dear. No need to hurry. You know I’m a tough nut.”
Oh, I know.
Mabel had tried to get out of bed the very next day, demanding to go home. If it hadn’t been for an equally stubborn doctor, she would’ve gotten her way. Then as soon as she had brought Mable home, she’d started cooking, saying she was bored and needed to keep her hands busy. Going on about some saying with God and idle hands.
Yasmine grabbed her purse and keys. Well, these hands were about to become a whole lot less idle.
* * *
Dean was as miserable as a cut dog. He’d lost count of how many times he’d picked up his phone to call Yasmine but quickly hung up. He knew it was for the best if she kept her distance from him, but doing the right thing was so damn hard. He tapped the pen against the pad of paper in front of him. He needed to write his next sermon, but he was no further ahead than an hour ago.
“Shit,” Dean groaned as the little light on his desk glowed red.
It was the signal that someone was in the confessional booth. The “confessions” he’d listened to lately were making him regret taking this position. Seriously, who cared if someone wished that someone else’s pies tasted terrible and now felt jealous? Sighing, he stood and headed toward the booth.
The church was quiet. Only a small handful of people sat around the church, each one completing their form of prayer or self-reflection. Dean drew back the heavy curtain, and the old wooden booth creaked as he sat on the thin cushion covering the seat. He slid the small panel out of the way and got himself as comfortable as possible for another annoying rant.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been never since my last confession.”
Dean sat up straight, his pulse rising at the sweet sound of Yasmine’s voice. “Please, my child, go on,” he said.
“I keep having these desires, these otherworldly urges for someone I shouldn’t.” Dean moved a little closer to the small wooden screen.
“Really, child, this sounds serious please go on.”
“My…my pussy gets so wet and so hot, and I can’t control it. Even though this man is off-limits, I can’t stop touching myself.” Yasmine’s quiet voice hitched slightly.
Dean pulled at his collar as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His cock had been hard before with just the thought of her, but this was too much. He pressed down on the robes, giving himself a rub to try and ease the building tension.
“Even now, I can’t resist. I have to touch myself.”
Dean swallowed hard and pressed his face against the little holes trying to see into the darkened booth. He could just make out the outline of Yasmine. At first, he didn’t understand what he saw, but it became clearer the longer he watched. She was sitting with her back to the far wall, her one leg on the bench while the other was up on the wall. Her dress piled around her stomach and gave him the sweetest unobstructed view as she dipped her fingers in and out of her pussy.
“These feelings, these urges are very natural, my child. Is there something specific you want to do?” He asked as he slipped his hand under his robe and slowly, silently ticked his zipper on his pants down. When his cock sprang free of the tight confines, he stifled a moan as he gripped his shaft. With a single stroke, he was soaked from the pre-cum that was weeping in an endless stream.
“Oh yes, Father, I have something very specific I want to do.”
Dean licked his lips, remembering how delicious she tasted. He could almost smell her and drew in a deep breath as he slowly stroked his throbbing cock. “Please, my child, go on. I can only absolve you of your sins if I know what they all are in detail.”
A small whimper of pleasure reached his ears, his eyes straining to get a better look. Both of her delicate hands were at work now, one rubbing in small circles over what could only be her clit while the other pumped faster into her wetness. The sounds were like music to his years.
“I dream of this man slipping his tongue deep inside me and licking until I come all over his face.”
“Is that so?” Dean swallowed a groan. “That’s natural. You are a visceral woman with needs. What else, my dear?” Dean pressed.
“I want his big nasty cock in my mouth. I want to run my tongue up and down that long, hard shaft and suck him in my dirty mouth until he has no more cock to feed me. I want to feel his hot load run down my throat, tasting that saltiness, and know that I made him feel that good.”
Dean pulled the robe aside, annoyed by the heavy encumbrance still laying on his lap. His strokes were matching the rhythm of her fingers as they worked—her soft moans, a drug to his system. Flicking the divider to the side, he shoved his arm through the small space. He felt like an animal in a cage reaching out for freedom.
Yasmine gasped and jumped as his fingers found hers, but she relented the job over to him, and he wasted no time sinking his digits in as deep as they could go. Her heat enveloped him, and her walls squeezed down, making the eyes roll back in his head as he squeezed his painfully hard shaft. This was what he wanted, what he’d been craving. The feel of her was pure heaven, and it was a damn good thing he didn’t believe in God because he would surely be struck by lightning for this.
His hand left the comforts of her hot pussy long enough to wrap his hand into the material around her waist. With a hard tug, he pulled her ass closer, and a tiny yelp escaped her lips. He coughed to mask the sound.
“Please continue, my child. All those sins must be eating you up inside. Free yourself of their burden.” Dean fisted his dick as his fingers found her heat once more. He loved the feel of her body shuddering under his touch. He wanted to feel her come undone while he pummeled her. Make her scream his name as her nails racked lines of passion down his back.
“I…I want.” She sounded unsure, her voice wavering.
He slowed his pace, his thumb gently flicking over her swollen clit. Yasmine wiggled her ass, silently demanding him to continue. A sly smile pulled up the corner of his mouth. She wanted to come here and play with him like this, make him cave to his own desires? Then he was damn well going to make her work for her release. He pulled his fingers out completely and rubbed small circles over that little bundle of nerves.
“Speak to me, my child, and the pain of all that you are holding back will be released.”
“I’ve fantasized about him bending me over his desk and pounding his cock into me from behind. I have touched myself, while I thought of him taking me roughly, taking what he wants from me and ordering me to do what he wants.”
Dean sank all his fingers in deep, rewarding her for the confession. A deep guttural groan came from the other side of the wall. It was muffled, like she had a fist in her mouth. He knew she was close, her breathing was quickening, and her walls were quaking around his hand. Using his thumb, he slid it over her nub with each thrust of his hand as she moaned. Suddenly, his hand flooded with liquid, and her walls flexed so hard around his fingers that her body tried to push him out.
He was so close that his balls were aching. His fist flew in a mad flurry up and down his thick shaft. He pulled his arm back through the small gap and used her juices to lubricate his own work further. He just needed a few more tugs.
A flash of light caught his attention as it filtered into the booth beside him.
“He’s ready to see you now,” Yasmine said.
That little minx!He was so getting Yasmine back for this.
He pushed the two panels closed, blocking him from view because nothing was going to stop his body. He had no idea who stepped in the opposite side of the confessional, but just as the seat creaked with the weight of their presence, he tipped over the edge.
He clamped his mouth shut to keep from yelling out with the force of his orgasm that was consuming his body. The thick curtain and the confessional wall took the brunt of his orgasmic bliss, but he didn’t give a fuck where it landed—the soft slapping noise was the only giveaway that something unsavory was occurring. He stared down at his dick as he gave it a few more strokes to milk the last sensations of his pleasure. God, he was a dirty bastard.
A soft knock came from the solid panel.
“Father, are you still in there?” He rolled his eyes at the sound of Whitney’s voice. “I think you might have a leak in the ceiling. It’s all wet in here.
“Yes, just finishing a few notes. Give me a moment.” A smile spread across his face at the thought of Whitney sitting in Yasmine’s juices. He laid his head back on the wall and reluctantly stuffed his dick back into this pants. This was going to be a long and painful confession.