LOGINShare
STORY 41 - BEING HIS SLUTTY PLAYTHING (I)
publish date:
2026-05-07 02:49:46
Latest chapter
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 55 - DEAREST FATHER DOMINIC (V)
“Then choose.”He slams deep. His hand tightens on my throat. His cock swells and I feel every pulse of the thick, hot cum flooding a pussy for the first time in eleven years.He makes a sound that starts as my name and ends as something primal, something that existed before language, before God, before man, before the vow he just broke with his cock buried inside me on his prayer bench.The crucifix pendant rests against my spine. His cum fills me. His hand loosens on my throat. His forehead drops to the back of my neck and I feel wetness that isn’t sweat – tears. Silent. Dropping onto my skin.“Father Dominic.”“I’m not crying because I regret it.” His voice is thick. His cock still inside me. “I’m crying because I don’t.”The floor in front of the cross. The sacristy. After midnight.The church is locked. The world is outside. We’re on the cold floor in front of the crucifix – the same floor where he prostrated himself during his ordination, where he lay face-down and promised his
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 55 - DEAREST FATHER DOMINIC (IV)
The stretch makes us both cry out – his voice layered on mine, echoing in the small office.He’s thick, and the eleven years of abstinence have made me a religious experience for him because his eyes roll back the moment my walls close around him.He sinks deeper – inch by inch, his hands white-knuckled on the desk – until he’s fully seated and his forehead drops to mine and I feel the crucifix pendant pressed between our chests.“You feel –” He can’t finish. His cock throbs inside me. “I didn’t know – I didn’t –”“Move.” I wrap my legs around him and pull him deeper. “Father Dominic. Move.”He moves.The sound he makes on the first stroke is the most honest thing I’ve ever heard from a man of God – a groan that comes from somewhere below theology, below vows, below everything he’s built his life on, a sound from the foundation he’s demolishing.He fucks me on the desk, with his strokes slow at first – re-learning a rhythm his body forgot. Then his hips find the angle, and his cock be
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 55 - DEAREST FATHER DOMINIC (III)
His tongue is desperate.It's not the technique of a man who’s done this regularly.This is a man who hasn’t tasted a woman in over a decade and is eating me like the last supper. His tongue pushes between my folds – broad, hot, tasting everything, a groan vibrating from his chest against my clit when the flavor hits his mouth."Oh fuck –" My hands grab his head. His hair is short – barely enough to grip – so I hold the back of his skull and pull him closer and his tongue pushes deeper and he moans against my pussy with a sound that doesn't belong in a church or anywhere else – the sound of a man tasting something he's been starving for.He finds my clit. Circles it – clumsy at first, then finding the rhythm and learning in real time what makes my hips buck.He learns fast.His tongue is pressing harder, varying speed, paying attention to the sounds I make the way he pays attention to scripture – with total focus and the intention to master.His fingers join his mouth. Two long, olive
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 55 - DEAREST FATHER DOMINIC (II)
The lattice screen slides open and his face is suddenly three inches away. His dark eyes wide, his jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his temple, the white collar bright against his throat. His hands are gripping the edges of the opening, and his knuckles are white with the tendons standing out.“God isn’t here right now,” he says in a voice that isn’t pastoral or gentle or controlled. It’s the voice of a man who has just stopped fighting.I lean through the opening. He meets me halfway. And his mouth touches mine and every stained-glass saint in the building shatters in my mind.Father Dominic kisses me like a man who hasn’t kissed anyone in years, which he probably hasn’t. Not sloppy – starving. His mouth opens mine with a desperation that’s been building behind a collar for however long he’s been wearing one. His hand comes through the opening and cups my face – his palm warm, his fingers trembling – and I taste communion wine on his tongue and the sacrilege of it makes my pussy flood
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 55 - DEAREST FATHER DOMINIC (I)
I haven’t been to church in ten years.Not since I was twenty-two and decided that organized religion and I had a fundamental disagreement about who gets to control my body. I stopped attending Mass, stopped confessing sins I didn’t believe were sins, stopped kneeling in pews that made my knees ache for a God I wasn’t sure was listening.Then my mother died. And the funeral was at St. Augustine’s – the church I grew up in, the church where I was baptized and confirmed and where I sat through a thousand Sunday services fidgeting in itchy tights while Father Morrison droned about salvation in a voice that could sedate a racehorse.Father Morrison is gone. Retired. Replaced.The man who stands at the altar and delivers my mother’s eulogy is not the same Father I grew up seeing.Father Dominic Luciano is thirty-four years old. Transferred from Rome six months ago. And he is – God forgive me – the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in a religious robe or out of them.He’s tall. Lean in a de
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 54 - HIGH SCHOOL REUNION FUCKS (IV)
I'm finally riding Ryan Keeler on the bleachers where I watched him play basketball for four years with my bare tits in his face, his hands on my hips, guiding me, and his mouth finding my nipple and sucking while I roll my hips and take him deep.“I scored thirty-two points against Westfield on these bleachers,” he says against my breast. “That was the best thing that ever happened to me in this gym until right now.”“Shut up and fuck me.”I ride him hard.The bleachers creak beneath us – wood groaning, the sound echoing across the empty gym. My ass slapping his thighs with each downstroke. His cock filling me, stretching me, his hands squeezing my tits while I bounce on him and the scoreboard on the far wall watches with dead digital eyes.He grips my ass. Spreads my cheeks. His finger traces down – between them, past my asshole, through the wetness that’s running down to his balls – and he gathers the slick and brings it back to my asshole. Circling. Pressing gently.“Can I?”"Yes.
You may also like
One Night With Mr Billionaire
Sun girl790.6K viewsWet Desires: {A Steamy Collection}
The Book Magician523.2K viewsMy Marriage Is A Contract
Marvy520.8K viewsAccidentally Married
Swiftpen1231.0M viewsTempting Playboy
mr_dutta158 viewsThe Billionaire's Ex-Wife Is The Real Heiress
HIKARI48 viewsRuined by Desire
Tessa Marlowe225 viewsMy Fake Boyfriend Is My Enemy Hockey Captain
EmberQuill Joyce100 views
