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STORY 50 - RAVISHED BY HIS PRIMAL SIDE (III)
publish date:
2026-05-26 17:39:36
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DIRTY DREAMS STORY 56 - PHONE SEX WITH DADDY (II)
I uncross my legs and spread them slowly, my knees falling apart, revealing my pussy to the camera. I’m bare – shaved clean – and the camera captures everything. My lips are parted slightly from arousal, and the wetness is glistening in the lamplight. My clit is also swollen and very visible."Jesus." His voice cracks. His hand strokes faster. “You’re soaking. Already. I can see it on the screen.”“Three weeks of this, Marcus. Three weeks of cumming alone and pretending it’s your hand.”“Touch yourself. Slowly. Start at the top and slide down.”My hand leaves my tit and travels down my stomach and straight between my thighs. I press two fingers against my clit and circle slowly and lightly, the way he starts when he’s teasing me. The contact after waiting sends a shockwave through my body and my hips lift off the bed.“Not yet.” His voice firm. “Slower. I want to watch you build.”I slow down. Barely touching my clit – featherlight circles that keep me on edge without pushing me forwa
DIRTY DREAMS STORY 56 - PHONE SEX WITH DADDY (I)
Three weeks without his hands on me and I’m losing my mind.I’m distracted at work. I burned dinner twice this week. I walked into a glass door at the coffee shop because I was reading his text – wearing your shirt to bed tonight, it still smells like you – and forgot that transparent surfaces exist. My vibrator’s batteries died on Tuesday and I drove to the store at 11 PM in my pajamas and bought a twelve-pack of double-A’s and the cashier looked at me with an expression that said I know exactly what those are for and I looked back with an expression that said mind your business, Kevin.Marcus left four weeks ago. Consulting project in Seattle that was supposed to be two weeks and became four and might become six, and every time he tells me the timeline has extended I want to scream and cum simultaneously because the frustration and the deprivation have merged into one sensation that lives permanently between my legs.We’ve been texting, and the teasing has been escalating daily. The
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
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