"Jesus Fuck/JF"

By: iluvtwilightmre

Beta'd by Mizzdee

Entry for Public Lovin' Fanfiction Contest hosted by

GossipLips, JandMsMommy, and MissJanuary

- PublicLovinFanfictionContest dot blogspot dot com -


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"Spread her for me," he's saying to the naked, sexy woman on my right. She moves over to me sensually, dips and sucks on my already tight and taut nipple again for just a second, then reaches down to spread my pussy lips apart.

The cold air hits my heated wetness, like a shock.

I'm exposed.

My swollen clit protruding for her to see. For him to see. For the other woman and two men in the dark room to see.

My juices are dripping everywhere.

"Massage her." He's commanding, a deep and husky voice.

The beautiful woman takes her pointer fingers from where they're pulling my lips, and instead places them on either side of my clit, rubbing, pushing inward and upward, massaging.

"Please, please, please, please." I'm whimpering. It's so fucking intense. So good. "I can't come I can't come I can't come…"

The man motions the other two men over the platform. "You two: play with her tits. Roughly. And don't be afraid to suck," he says, enunciating the k. He looks to the other woman. "Come here and play with her ass." This man, cast in the dark shadows, motions to the women already touching me. "Enough teasing. Rub. Her... Hard. Then suck."

"No no NO!" I'm moaning loudly.

I can see him cocking his head. "Her cunt is mine." Suddenly he's moving forward, his beautifully pale hand stretched out, moving closer to my too-sensitive center.

He'll fuck me with his fingers.

"She's tight; spread her hole open. I need to get inside." He's speaking to the tortuous woman sucking me with her hot mouth.

"Now-"

"SHHHHHIIITTT!" I scream, slamming down on the breaks of my car; I almost hit another driver as I've blow the stop sign. "Sorry sorry sorry!" I yell out uselessly to the man, who's now flipping me off. He drives away as I move forward slowly.

Rubbing the corners of my eyes with one hand, I groan. "Fuckin' shit."

This isn't the first time something like this has happened; these dreams have been plaguing my mind for about two weeks now. It's always the same thing, and it hasn't gone away.

It would be one thing if these 'fantasies' occurred at night, in bed, with say my vibrator near by. Or no vibrator, that's cool too. They could take place just at night, in my dreams, safely.

But they don't.

They happen everywhere: at night, at work, while I'm grocery shopping, when I'm fucking driving, while I'm out to dinner, and so on.

I don't know what to do anymore; I've tried everything I can possibly think of, but not one single thing has had even the slightest effect. I can't have these visions of intense group sex every hour of every motherfucking day.

It's not as if I can just go and talk to someone about this stuff… My mother died a few years ago—not that I would have gone to her anyway—and the only friend I have is Alice, whom I certainly cannot speak to about this. I love her, but her echm, prim and proper nature makes her a non-viable option. Trust me.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

I rub my eyes again.

I drive on… It's a Sunday… It's very bright out.

The church on the right side of the road looks very pretty, with all the vibrant stained glass and whatnot.

The church.

The church.

The church.

The church.

The church!

"Church," I whisper to myself.

Before I can think twice, I make a quick turn into the parking lot of said church. There are a few cars here, people milling about and dispersing from the double doors. I park quickly.

As I make my way to the steps, I can feel my hands subconsciously smoothing out my white pleated dress and black blazer. Because you're such a devout Catholic Bella.

By the time I pass through the doors and into the chapel, there's but two churchgoers left, both of who are already heading my way.

I let my eyes wander as they near me…the gorgeous windows that adorn these walls are so captivating…

Not captivating enough that I miss the shutting of the door on the confessional booth though.

"Alrighty," I mutter, taking a deep breath and wandering towards the dark wood box with two doors. "Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay."

I raise my hand which, of course, is shaking.

Do I just knock? Is that customary? Or do I just go in?

After a few minutes of deliberation, I decide just to 'go in'; that's what they do in the movies, right?

"Okay. This is good… Okay," I breathe. Opening the door quickly, I shut it and seat myself on the rather large bench inside.

I can feel my pulse radiating in my face, my hands, my fingers, everywhere, fast and unrelenting in its increase.

Jesus Christ.

Ha.

Come on, Bella, come on, Bella, come on, Bella. Come the fuck on. Just do it.

A cough escapes my throat.

Okay then.

Okay.

"Father?" That's what you call these men, correct?

Silence.

"Father?"

Silence.

I turn and look at the screen: it's dark on the other side, but that's not saying much considering the holes on this damn thing are small and thickly woven. I can barely see anything.

What is he not here? I saw him go in…

"Are you here-"

"Yes child I'm here," a deep, masculine voice answers back abruptly.

Oh. Okay. Hi.

"Um, hi, Father…. I um, I've never really done this before—I just want you to know that—, and uh, I don't really go to church often—I'm sorry about that, Father—, but I…." I stop.

Shit.

"I need to talk to someone… Confess."

He takes a moment to answer me. "Yes, child. Go ahead."

Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep motherfucking breath. This is good. This is good for you.

"I've been having these… these dreams lately, and I can't seem to get them to go… away."

"Dreams? What kind of dreams?"

Oh god. "D-dirty ones, Father. Dirty fantasies."

His sharp intake of breath is barely audible. Taking a moment, he responds. "Go ahead. Continue."

"Should I um, describe them?" I wince.

"This is a confessional… You'll feel much better if you do. Or so I've come to find child." His voice smooth again.

Right.

I nod even though he probably can't see me. "I've been having the same dream for the past two weeks, about me and a group of people; it's, it's three men and two women, although one of the men is more like the leader, or something…"

"And what happens in this dream?"

"Um…" My voice reaches a newer, higher octave. "They all work to bring me to a… finish."

"A finish?"

"Orgasm. Climax," I grit out.

Dammit. Dammit dammit. The throb between my legs is back.

"What else happens in this dream of yours? Start from the beginning," he orders, sounding deeper. Or that could just be the pulse ringing in my ears.

"I uh, I start out with a white button down and a black skirt on, and I'm lying down on this raised platform with bright lights shining down; it's dark in the rest of the room, but I can tell there are people standing around, watching me… There's the one man who commands all the other people—the two women and men—, and he tells one of the men and one of the women to undress me... And then they do and…"

The throbbing of my pussy stops me… I sigh internally. Ugh, I just want to touch myself.

Oh Jesus!

"Child?"

"Yes, Father?" I stutter. "I'm sorry, I just um… Oh god, I'm sorry." The ache persists. The images assault my mind.

Another very long and pregnant moment passes.

"Why don't you…" he starts, his voice husky. Or something.

"Father?"

"Touch yourself."

What now?

"I'm s-sorry?"

"I said touch yourself. While you describe your fantasy."

My eyes widen to the point of pain. "I don't understand—"

"My recommendation to you is self-pleasure… while describing your fantasies to me."

WHAT?

"I—I didn't think that—I mean I've never heard—is this uh—"

"To get it out of your system. Touch yourself. Expel it."

In this moment, it clicks.

It clicks.

He's not a priest.

I don't need to call him father.

I shouldn't be calling him father.

I don't know what to call him.

But I also know this: I'm so incredibly aroused. And the deep, dark part of my brain wants this to go forward; it's begging me to do as this deep, lustful, rough voice says.

And I want it.

My mind is clouded with it.

My hands shake for it.

My stomach clenches for it.

My pussy throbs and drips for it.

"Should I start from the beginning?" I ask quietly, lifting my dress and sliding my hand into my panties; I gather wetness from my opening and spread in all around, especially my clit. My hips jerk as I do. "Mmmm," I let out breathily.

"Yes," he answers, voice lowered yet again, a new grit to it. "What are you doing?"

Only a second passes before I respond. "I'm rubbing my clit, making slow, firm circles under the hood."

"And?"

"Pinching my nipple through my bra," I grit out through my teeth; his voice is delicious.

He's breathing heavily. I think. "Continue your dream."

"They strip me…. of my clothes… then—oh god—then the man tells one of the women to run her fingernail across my clit, back and forth until I beg her to stop… and then he asks the other woman to bite and suck my nipples… and her mouth is so warm and hot and slick, and my back arches so much it hurts, when she bites me, and the other woman is scraping her nail harder and then he just stops them before I scream!" My breaths have turned into pants, and I can't help but bite out a moan when I press down on my swollen clit with my thumb.

"And then?"

"Then he tells one of the women to spread my pussy open… and then she's rolling and massaging my clit… and then he's telling the men to suck on my tits… and…" I'm so lost.

"Tease your hole."

"What?"

"I said run your fingernail around your pussy hole. Do not dip inside. Do it now," he commands.

The likeness of the voice and the leader in my fantasy isn't lost on me (for some inexplicable reason), but instead of focusing on that I do as he says.

And holy fuck!

"So good, so good, so good," I chant lowly. My pointer and index fingers are under my hood, tugging up, up, up on my bud, then to the side. Goose bumps cover my arms, my scalp prickling. "Uuhuh… Uuhuh… Oh… Yes…"

"And then," he prompts.

"Oh then um… um then he… oh fuck, oh god… then he tells one of the women to play with my ass… and then to suck on my clit and then he's moving to slide his fingers inside me-"

"STOP."

Wait—wait—what-what—what—no I'm close

"Remove your fingers from your panties. Take them off immediately."

"I'm-"

"Take off, your panties."

Shaking, I do so.

"Count to one hundred. Starting… now."

I don't question him this time.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Ninety-seven

Ninety-eight

Ninety-nine

One h—

Before I can finish the last number, the door in front of me swings open, my eyes fluttering from the bright light.

In front of me stands the most beautiful, attractive, sexy man I've ever seen in my entire life.

He's perfection.

It's his black jeans, charcoal grey long sleeved t-shirt, and boots.

It's his tall height, his lean yet muscular body.

It's the way he has one hand on the frame, one on the door.

It's the way his leaning inward.

It's his sexy mess of copper hair, his wicked green eyes, his sharp jaw and nose.

It's that he screams sex. And confidence.

He's Father.

He's not smirking. He's face shows nothing, expect for his eyes; his killer eyes are bright, alive, and aware. Penetrating.

I'm exposed.

I'm frozen.

My body can't move.

The only thing that's continued is the wetness that's seeping from my slit.

My stomach clenches. At last.

His eyes run over my body, pausing to stare at my uncovered pussy. I cannot contain my clench.

He steps in, closes the door.

Oh god.

Wordlessly, he unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock; it's thick, long, just like it should be. Erect.

Taking one step towards me, he speaks deeply, smooth. "Spread your cunt."

I open my mouth to—

"Spread your cunt."

A drop of my juices trickles down, onto the bench.

I do as he asks, using both hands to spread myself wide, showing him everything.

The sounds audible are my rather loud pants, and his deep breathing. And my heart rate, maybe.

Taking another step and reaching down to my overheated center, he runs his four fingers all around me, my wetness, coating them. Withdrawing, he lifts his hand and inhales my scent deeply, almost noiselessly.

A small smirk graces his face. "I could smell you even over there."

I want to moan at his words.

Maintaining eye contact, he rubs the wet hand all over, around his cock, lubing himself with my own arousal. "Get up," he tells me. I do as he asks, keeping my distance from him. Drops trickle down my thighs.

Clench.

He moves past me, sits down in my place, and wipes the fallen drops of natural lubricant onto his dick

Grabbing himself in his fist, he pumps twice.

… I'm mesmerized; it looks so silky and hard.

"Straddle and sit on it." I meet his eyes; he's dead fucking serious.

As if in a trance, I move forward. "Take off your jacket." It slips from my shoulders and onto the floor. "I assume you're on birth control." I nod, just barely a confirmation. One more step. "Turn around. Straddle me, your back to my chest. Then sink. Down."

I do so as gracefully as I can manage; his body, his chest, is warm, on fire. His scent is incredibly intoxicating, and would it not be for the fact that his tip is at my entrance, I'd be lost in it.

Then his hand grabs my cunt from behind, squeezing, pressing, a quick rub.

"Oh!"

"Sink. Down," he whispers forcefully in my ear.

"Yes," I answer breathily. My pussy sucks him in, inch by inch, until he's completely sheathed inside me. My ass is hitting his thighs.

We moan together, and I can't help but rock back; he's so fucking sexy. "Tight," he hisses. This beautiful creature grabs my right breast in one hand and then grips my pussy from the front with the other, holding me to him. I reach back and grab his neck, his hair, pulling him forward while I lean my head back onto his shoulder.

His lips hover over mine, both of us breathing each other in. "Please," I whimper.

He gives me what I want: a kiss.

It's searing, hot, heavy, wet, and what I need. His tongue takes control of mine, and then he's sucking, tracing my lower lip. He takes me by surprise when his hand moves on my center, kneading, stroking, circling, dipping everywhere, his thumb pressing and rubbing my public bone.

"Uhuh, " I let out.

And then he thrusts.

It's like nothing else: it's heart stuttering deep, and bone tingling pleasure, the kind that just covers you. Everywhere. My back arches so hard and quick it's painful. "Fuck," I pant out.

"Yes," he hisses between clenched teeth.

He thrusts up again. And again. And again. In and out, in and out. Each one is better than the last. Each thrust is hard and powerful, jerking me upwards. He grunts with each movement, and so do I.

I try to meet his thrusts, but it's nearly impossible.

"Faster," he mumbles to himself I think, and so his cock impales me ever so speedily.

Abruptly, he shoves the top of my dress and bra down, roughly pulling, rolling and pinching my right nipple between his fingers. Then he reaches down to my pussy with his other hand, takes some of my wetness, and spreads it all over my reddening peak.

Now I too can smell my arousal.

He continues his assault, my cries spurring him on.

So much pleasure…

So much pleasure…

I feel like I could die.

"You're so loud," he mutters into my ear, tugging my nipple.

"You're making me—uhuh uhuh, yes…" I respond. Kind of.

"Am I?" The devastating man chuckles deeply, dipping down to slap my enlarged clit with two fingers.

Shit!

I groan, moan loudly. It's so good!

"You're loud… Anyone could walk into this church, on a Sunday no less, and hear how dirty you are… that you like being fucked, roughly. So rough that your cunt turns raw…"

I clench and whimper and groan again.

Where did he come from!

"Those people… they might be concerned with all the noises. Should I open up the door, let them see it's only you getting pounded?" He moves one leg, stretching it towards the door.

I gasp and do the only thing I can think of to stop him: reaching down, I grab and squeeze his balls.

He lets out a guttural groan and relaxes his leg. "I'm assuming," thrust "that's a," thrust, "no then."

"Almost, almost, almost," I whisper, my cries increasing in pitch. I can feel my thighs quivering, a tingling in my—

He pulls out.

"What?" I gasp. What the fuck! What, no!

He doesn't answer, but instead sticks three fingers inside my opening, curling upwards towards my stomach.

"Jesus!" I all but scream; he's found my spot. Rubbing what I could never find, he goes at it. I open my mouth to really scream, but nothing comes out; it's silent. It's delicious. I'm about to cry.

He's spreading, stretching, scissoring me now as my body shakes; he knows he's the one who's doing this to me. He has to.

"I couldn't just let you come without having my fingers inside this pussy," he tells me. Curling, pressing, swirling. "I want you even wetter when you come," he growls.

"I am," I whisper.

He retrieves his fingers and licks them. "Yes, you are."

Slipping his cock back inside with one quick thrust, we begin again; he's going so fast now, quick, sharp, and new urgency present. Within a couple of minutes, I'm ready to explode, then die again.

It's on the tip of my tongue; I can taste this.

By the sound of his moans and grunts, he is too. This only spurs me forward.

It's—

Suddenly the door on the other side opens, closes, the sound of something hitting the bench can be heard.

The man beneath me stills.

"Child? Are you here? Did you want to confess?"

The damn priest!

I grab his neck behind me, silently asking what the fuck we should do.

"Speak," he instructs me, quietly.

Oh my god.

"Yes Father, I'm here."

"Did you want to confess, Child?" the kind voice beckons.

"Confess to him sweet girl," he says, playing with my exposed nipple again.

I bite back a moan. "Yes, I did um… I um… have a friend who I think is… is sleeping with another man who is, who is not her husband, Father," I sputter out.

And then he jerks a thrust into me, quickly. I gasp. Holy hell, these benches don't make a sound—

"I imagine this is upsetting for you."

"Yes," I breathe out. "I haven't said anything to her husband, but I think I should, Father—" I'm cut off by another sporadic thrust, my body bowing forward, an attempting to contain the cry I need to let out.

"You're wondering whether or not you should tell this friend's husband? Or your friend perhaps?"

"Yes, Father—oh god!" I cry.

Shit! Shit shit!

…. So good…

"It's alright, Child, let out your prayers to the lord above."

Thrust thrust.

"God, please!"

"That's good, my Child… I think we should take a minute to pray to the lord, and then speak about your course of action. Take a minute now."

"Yes—"

He thrusts three more times in the silence, pinches my nipple, jerks my neck backwards to kiss me with so much fucking passion, and works my clit between two fingers.

I'm gone.

I'm falling.

I'm clenching.

I'm hyperventilating.

I'm shaking.

I'm crying out and biting into the fist he's offered.

I'm arching my back until it breaks in two.

He's coming.

He's twitching and jerking.

He's biting my neck.

Then I'm slumping.

I'm jell-o.

I'm deliciously boneless.

"Did you pray, Child?"

"Yes," I breathe.

"Wonderful. Now the best…" I stop paying attention to the kind and oblivious man. I'm far too focused on the what's below me, and how his cock is still inside. "Thank you for your confession dear. Remember, follow the lord and he will always lead you on the path of righteousness and love. Enjoy the rest of your Sunday." With that, the priest leaves.

"I think your 'problem' should be taken care of."

"And how would you know? Are you an expert?" I fire back lazily.

"I'm a priest, weren't you aware of this."

"Oh God," I giggle. How appropriate.

"Jesus fuck," he rumbles, joining me.

"That too."

"Yes, that too."


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