kinky religious blasphemy phone sex

religious blasphemy phone sex

Happy Fall my freaks and geeks. It’s my favorite time of year again. I love when the leaves change and there’s a chill in the air. Just enough to get my nipples hard under my dress at church. I never wear bras so the slightest chill in the air and its a nip city. I doubt Father John minds to much. It must be nice for him to look out at all the bored faces and see me,s milling so brightly, my head held high, shoulders back, chest out, nipples straining against my silk blouse. He’s heard my confessions enough that even as he gives his sermon, I see him blush slightly and I know he’s thinking of me. Of the wicked secrets I tell him about his deviant congregation. My confessions are so good I should start charging him for religious blasphemy phone sex.

I went to confession yesterday and told him more about my wild sex-capades with different members of the church. Men and women, I fucked them both. Confession is supposed to be private and anonymous, but he knew it was me. And I of course used the names of whoever I was talking about. I wanted him to know which deacon was cheating on his wife. With a man. And who liked dressing up like a baby. And who wanted me to wear miniskirts and pig tails and sit on his lap while he diddled me and then gave me a teddy bear. I told Father John everything. I could hear by the questions he asked and the pauses that he was excited. I always got him excited telling him about sucking cock, wearing strap ons and fucking men. Or fucking women with strap ons. I fucked couples with strap ons. And then all the bondage and teasing. I love doling out delicious exquisite pain. I told him that I fantasized I was whipping the evil out of my sinful lovers. When he gave me my penitence I asked if we could pray together. I knelt on my side of the dark confessional and leaned close tot he privacy screen. I knew he was sitting with his ear right next to it. As I prayed I started to play with myself. I knew he was masturbating too, I could tell by his breath and the stuttering pauses during his prayers. I pretended I was just praying. But from my oh gods I was sure he suspected I was touching myself. When I came i knew he was close and I whispered, “come for me” and he did. Under his priestly robes in his confessional, he came while he prayed for my forgiveness for being a wicked and wanton girl. I’m sure he prayed for his own soul as well. As for me I just smiled and left, happy that I had gotten off in church while confessing about my religious blasphemy phone sex calls. How much more blasphemous can you get?!

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