She sat on his couch strumming his guitar. The vibrations echoed through her body, anticipating the pleasures to come. She wanted her cowboy to play her like a well loved guitar. Soft, slow and then hard and fast. Picked, strummed or thumped. The music of their lovemaking to echo through the silence.
Consuelo ached to be touched, kissed, fucked, loved. She confessed her desire to the priest. Only two days into Lent, and she couldn’t control herself. The heat between her thighs soaked her panties. Nipples ached beneath her blouse. Heart pounding with desire.
Consuelo walked into the parish house to find the priest waiting naked on the couch. She gasped.
“I knew you would come,” he said.
“Strip,” he said.
Consuelo, confused by the subtle perfidy of the priest, stripped to her stockings and panties.
“Touch yourself for me,” he whispered.
Consuelo cradled her breasts as she stroked her cleft with the other hand. Eyes closed, lips parted, juices pooling, waiting… Waiting…
“Feel my cock filling you,” he said. “Pumping your sweet cunt, sucking your ripe breasts, making you cry to heaven in orgasm.”
Consuelo moaned and leaned against the door frame.
She knew he would take her, just like she described her desires in the confessional. Penance would be such sweet sorrow.
~ ~ ~
Ah, choices! Two photos. Two word limits. One phrase. The first one made me think of the Mary Chapin Carpenter song Passionate Kisses. The second one,… I live in a very Catholic community, and being pagan, I noticed all the ash marks on the head. This picture made me think of what it would be like to tell your deepest desires to your priest, and then fall from grace. Heady stuff.
Hope you enjoyed my selections!