My Confession Ended on My Knees in the Sacristy

I’d been turning it over in my head for weeks. Ever since what had happened with Marcos, my sister’s husband, I couldn’t make it through a whole night without waking up sweating, my heart hammering in my throat and my cock rock-hard, pressed against my navel, leaking precum onto the sheets. I didn’t know whether it was desire or guilt. Probably both. What I did know was that every time I closed my eyes I could feel my brother-in-law’s cock in my mouth again, the weight of his balls against my chin, and I’d get hard again like a post.

St. Stephen’s parish was almost empty that Wednesday afternoon. It smelled of old wax and damp wood. I sat on the bench farthest from the altar and waited for the woman in confession to finish. It took forever. When she finally came out, I crossed the nave with trembling legs and went into the confessional.

—Bless me, Father, for I have sinned —I said, and my voice sounded ridiculous, like a child reciting from memory.

—You are blessed. Tell me, brother.

The voice on the other side of the lattice was deep, but young. It wasn’t Father Anselmo, the old priest I’d expected to find. This man sounded different. I swallowed and started talking. I told him everything. I told him how Marcos had caught me staring at his dick in the shower during a holiday at my in-laws’ country house, how he’d stood still under the spray, letting me get a good look at it, thick, hanging between his thighs like a pendulum. I told him how that same night, when everyone was asleep, I went downstairs to the living room and he was already there, waiting for me on the sofa with his pajama pants pulled down to his ankles and his hard cock resting against his belly. I told him I knelt in front of him without anyone asking me to, that I opened my mouth and let it drop over his cock as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

—Go on —said the priest. His voice didn’t carry the rebuke I’d expected.

—Father, I took it into my mouth. All of it. Down to the back of my throat. And I liked it so much, I liked feeling it throb against my tongue, hearing him breathing like an animal above me, that the next day I looked for a way to make it happen again.

There was a long silence. I heard the priest breathing. Heavy breathing, deeper than normal. I noticed my body had reacted to the memory: my pants were tight at the crotch, my cock pressed hard against the fabric and a wet patch spreading where the head rested.

—Son —he said at last, and his voice sounded closer, as if he had leaned toward the grille— come with me to the office. We’re going to talk face to face.

I heard the curtain open on the other side. A hand came through mine and drew it aside. I tried to hide my erection by crossing my hands over my lap, but it was useless: the bulge was obscene, the head of my cock clearly outlined against the fabric of my pants.

The priest’s name was Father Nicolás. He was about thirty-five, with a buzz cut, a neatly trimmed dark beard, and intense green eyes that contrasted with his olive skin. He wore a short-sleeved black shirt with a Roman collar, and his arms filled out the sleeves in a way that didn’t seem fitting for a man of faith. His pecs showed through the shirt, and in the crotch, if you looked closely, there was a considerable bulge the black cassock didn’t quite manage to hide.

I followed him down the side aisle to a solid wooden door. When he opened it, we entered a small office: a crucifix on the wall, a desk with two chairs facing each other, and a window with the curtains drawn. He locked the door. The click of the bolt shot down my spine and tightened my balls.

—Sit down —he said, indicating the chair. He leaned against the edge of the desk, half a meter from me, his arms crossed—. First thing you need to know is that God forgives. Second is that I’ve heard things much worse than yours.

—Impossible, Father.

—You’d be surprised. —He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on the desk—. Once a boy came in who had seduced his aunt’s husband, sucking him off every night while his aunt slept next to him. Another time, two brothers who’d been fucking each other for years whenever their parents left the house. These situations are more common than people think.

—And you, Father? Have you ever felt anything like that?

—I was young —he said, and for the first time he looked away toward the window—. Yes.

—But you seem so proper, so serene.

—Is this my confession now? —He smiled, and that smile changed his face completely. White teeth, fine wrinkles around his eyes. He was handsome. Fucking handsome. My mouth watered imagining him naked.

—I don’t want to be intrusive. But I feel so alone in this, Father. Like I’m the only one.

His hand settled on my cheek. It was a gentle gesture, almost paternal, but the heat of his palm went through my skin like a jolt straight to my cock.

—I’ve sinned a lot, son. I’ve been with men. One at a time and with several at once. I’ve sucked cocks in saunas until my jaw went numb. I’ve taken loads in my mouth, on my face, in my ass. I’ve known places where only desire exists and nothing else: dark rooms full of hard cocks looking for a hole to go into. I’ve felt other men’s sweat, the frenzy, two cocks rubbing against my face at the same time. —His gaze drifted for a moment, as if he were contemplating something only he could see—. It can happen to any of us.

—Sure, Father, but I never thought it would happen to me.

—Nobody does. —He looked at me again with those green eyes, and his expression turned practical—. But before we finish confession, you need to have a clear mind. And I can see you don’t.

I looked down. The erection was still there, obvious beneath the fabric of my pants, already with a dark ring of liquid soaking through. There was no point hiding it.

—I’m not going to lie, my head’s cloudy —I said, and pointed to the obvious.

—You still hard? —he asked without taking his eyes off mine. There was something in his tone that was no longer pastoral.

—Yes, Father. Rock hard.

—We’ll deal with that first. No one’s coming in here. —He motioned toward my crotch with his chin—. Take it out. Go on.

I felt shame and relief at the same time. I undid the button, lowered the zipper, and let my cock spring out, hard and throbbing in the cool office air. The tip glistened wetly, the foreskin pulled back to expose the swollen red head. He looked at it without trying to hide it, taking in the whole thing, gauging the thickness, the length, the veins running along it.

—I understand what your brother-in-law saw —he said, his voice a shade lower—. You have a beautiful cock, son. Start. I’ll absolve you when you’re done.

I spat into my hand and began to masturbate slowly, sliding my fist up and down, feeling the head appear and disappear under the foreskin with each stroke. He never looked away. His knuckles went white from gripping the edge of the desk.

—Tell me more —he asked—. What happened after that with your brother-in-law?

—That same night I sucked him off again. In the guest room, with the door slightly open. He made me kneel between his legs and take his whole cock in my mouth until the tip touched my uvula and my eyes filled with tears.

—Did you swallow it?

—All of it, Father. Every drop. The cum filled my mouth, hot and thick, and I swallowed it in one gulp. I didn’t want to leave a trace. My in-laws were sleeping in the next room.

—And did you like the taste? —His voice had gone hoarse. I saw his right hand drift down without him noticing and adjust the bulge under his pants.

—I licked every last drop. I sucked his balls too, one by one, after he came. I kissed his cock from top to bottom until I had it clean.

—Was there anything else?

—The next day we went out running in the morning. He took me to a secluded path among the pine trees, pulled my tracksuit pants down to my knees, and bent me over against a tree.

—Did he fuck you right there? —The shadow of his erection was now undeniable beneath the black pants. A thick cock trapped against his thigh.

—Yes, Father. He spat on my ass, coated his cock with saliva, and started pushing in. At first it hurt, it burned like he was splitting me in two, but after a few thrusts the pain turned into something else. He started fucking me hard, gripping my hips, smashing his balls against my ass. I bit my forearm so I wouldn’t scream.

—No lube? —he asked, his jaw tight.

—Father, when I’m this turned on, a little saliva is enough. My ass takes it all, without resisting. —I stopped touching myself because I was on the edge and didn’t want to come yet. I turned around in the chair, pulled my pants down to my knees, and showed him what I wanted to show him: my ass pushed out, cheeks spread, the pink hole contracting on its own. I sucked my fingers, soaked them with saliva, and slid one in, then another, slowly, feeling how I opened myself without resistance, fucking myself in front of him.

I heard his breathing change. A deep, animal gasp. I turned to look at him. He was frozen, pupils dilated and lips parted. The bulge of his cock under his pants was now enormous. I took his hand without asking and brought it to my ass. His fingers traced my skin, first cautiously, then with purpose. He took them to his mouth, wet them generously with saliva, and touched me again. When I felt him go in, sinking two fingers up to the knuckles, a shiver ran from my head to my toes and a long moan escaped me.

—Like that, Father, like that —I gasped—. Put them all the way in.

He started moving them inside me, prying them open like scissors, stretching me. He found a spot inside me that made me arch my back and let out a strangled cry. He smiled when he felt it and went right back there, again and again, until precum was dripping from me in a thread between my legs.

Suddenly he stopped. He lowered his head, his hands still on his knees. The weight of his vow of celibacy floated in the air like incense.

I reached toward his pants.

—Son, let’s see... —he murmured, but he didn’t pull away. My fingers traced the outline of his erection through the fabric, up and down, weighing it. It was long, thick, and curved toward his navel. He let out a long, defeated sigh and spread his legs a little wider.

I opened the zipper. His cock emerged thick and curved upward, with a fat drop of fluid gleaming on the tip, his balls hanging low and heavy in a black-haired scrotum. I looked at it for a second, judging it. It was thicker than Marcos’s, and the head had a purplish color from being so swollen. I liked cocks too much; I couldn’t control myself anymore, and I didn’t want to.

I took it into my mouth in one motion, until I felt the pubic hair against my nose.

He groaned and threw his head back. His hand found the back of my neck and pushed gently, forcing his cock past my palate and down to my throat.

—Fuck, fuck, son —he panted—. Did you really just learn how to do this?

I nodded without taking his cock out of my mouth, bobbing up and down with a rhythm that had become natural to me, as if I’d spent my whole life waiting to do it. I licked the underside of the cock with a flat tongue, sucked the tip with tight lips, drove it back down my throat until the gagging choked me, then paused to breathe for a second before swallowing it again. He pushed a little harder, guiding me by the nape, fucking my mouth with short, rhythmic thrusts.

—Don’t stop —he gasped—. Swallow it whole, like that, all the time.

I pulled his cock out for a second to lick his balls, one and then the other, taking them into my mouth and sucking them until he let out a growl. I ran my tongue slowly up the underside of his cock until I engulfed the head again. I pulled back another second to breathe and looked up at him from below, lips shining with saliva and precum.

—Father, you’re going to have to absolve me as soon as we’re done.

—Yes, but don’t stop. Suck, suck, son of a bitch, you do it so well.

I unbuttoned his shirt, button by button, while I kept licking him. His torso appeared covered in dark hair, a man’s body that worked the land or carried weight, not someone posing in front of a mirror. Hard brown nipples peeking through the hair. I ran my tongue over his abdomen, buried my nose in his navel, nipped gently at his hip, and took his cock back to the hilt, feeling it throb against my tongue.

—I need something else —I said, standing up, and turned around, bracing my hands on the desk, offering him my ass pushed out with my legs apart.

He knelt behind me. What he did next no one had ever done to me before: he parted my cheeks with both hands and stuck his tongue directly into my hole. Pleasure shot up from the base of my spine to the crown of my head, hot and electric, and every lick multiplied it. I felt his beard scraping my ass cheeks, his tongue going in and out, his lips kissing my little hole hungrily.

—Like that, like that, eat my ass, Father —I moaned, pressing my forehead against the wood of the desk—. Don’t stop, don’t stop.

He pulled back for a moment to spit directly onto my hole, and the hot saliva slid between my cheeks. He plunged his face back between them, fucking me with his tongue, alternating with the hard tip on my tightened hole. He worked his tongue in and out, played around it, sucked the hole with his lips, then drove it back inside. I rocked my ass against his face, rubbing myself, completely surrendered.

—You’ve got the cleanest, tastiest ass I’ve ever tasted in my life —he growled, pulling back to catch his breath—. I’m going to open you up all the way.

He went back in with his tongue, and this time he added a finger. Then two. He fucked my entrance with his fingers while his tongue played around the outside, and I moaned against the desk, drooling threads of spit onto the wood.

I turned around, pulled his pants down to his ankles, and shoved him back until his spine hit the desk. I licked the tip, savoring the salty fluid that kept seeping out, took his entire cock down my throat again, and then lay back across the desk surface, spreading my legs with my hands behind my knees, showing him the hole open and soaked with saliva.

—Father —I looked him straight in the eyes—. Put it in me. All the way. No mercy.

Something changed in his expression. A dark shadow crossed his green eyes. He grabbed my hips, spat generously on my hole, spat on his own cock, coated it well until it shone, pressed the head to my entrance and pushed in all at once, all the way, until I felt his balls slam against my ass.

The scream that escaped me began as pain and ended as something entirely different. He covered my mouth with his palm and started thrusting, first slowly, finding the angle, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in, until my hole got used to his thickness. Then he changed rhythm: he started fucking me with firm, deep thrusts that made the desk shake against the wall. Every stab tore a muffled moan out of me against his hand.

—Your ass is squeezing me so tight —he growled through clenched teeth, sweat beginning to shine on his forehead and run down his hairy chest—. Fuck, what a slutty ass you’ve got.

—Fuck me, Father —I begged, removing his hand from my mouth and clinging to his shoulders—. Harder. Please, break me.

And he didn’t stop. He alternated quick, hard thrusts with slow, deep ones, all the way in, and I felt him go in and out, filling me more each time, hitting that inner spot that made sparks burst in my vision. He grabbed my legs under the knees, lifted them to rest on his shoulders, and bent me nearly in half to drive his cock into me at a new, brutal angle that drew a scream from me, which he shut up again with his hand.

I grabbed his shoulders, he held my ass, and he lifted me off the desk with my cock trapped between our bellies. He held me in the air while he penetrated me, my legs around his waist, his cock going in and out from bottom to top, his strength was real, the strength of a man who didn’t need a gym to have it. Every time he lowered me onto his cock, his balls slapped against my ass with a wet crack.

—You’re a bull, Father —I panted between thrusts.

—You did this to me, son. You and that tight ass.

I pushed him until his back hit the tabletop. I rode him like a jockey, choosing the speed, choosing how much of him I wanted to take. Sometimes only the tip, feeling the head open me and stay inside the first few inches, playing there. Most of the time all the way, until I could feel his bones against my skin, his heavy balls crushing under my ass. Up and down I went, clenching the hole around his cock, looking him in the eyes. We were both sweating buckets. The office smelled of bodies, sweat, and sex, mixed with the sweet scent of wax. My own cock thrashed between our bellies, leaving trails of precum on his hairy stomach.

He grabbed my hips with both hands and started driving into me from below, hard, fucking me at a brutal pace while I let him pound me. The desk creaked under us. The crucifix on the wall trembled on its nail.

—I’m going to come —he warned me, eyes glazed.

—Come inside, Father —I said, and sped up, taking him to the hilt with every movement, wanting to feel him fill me—. Fill my whole ass, Father. I want to take you home inside me.

He went rigid for a second. His nails dug into my hips. He growled from deep in his chest, an animal sound that reverberated off the office walls, gave me three slow, deep, brutal thrusts, almost lifting me off the floor with each one, and then I felt him empty into me, hot and abundant, stream after stream of semen filling me from the inside. I could feel every spasm of his cock unloading inside me, and each one tore a new moan from me. His body relaxed beneath mine, and mine collapsed over him, belly to belly, chest to chest, sweat to sweat, my cock still hard and throbbing caught between us.

His mouth found mine. We kissed. It was my first kiss with a man. I felt his beard scraping my face, his tongue playing with mine, deep and voracious, his cock still inside me, getting softer but not wanting to come out. His semen began to leak out, warm, sliding down my perineum.

He pulled back slowly, slipping his cock out of my ass with a wet, obscene sound. A thread of semen and saliva ran down my groin. He looked at me.

—I need something else —he said, and knelt in front of me. My cock was still rock hard, pointed straight at his face, the tip shining with precum. He parted his lips and stuck out his tongue, waiting.

I started jerking off with my fist aimed toward his mouth. I tapped my cock gently against his parted lips and he kissed it every time I brought it close, teasing the tip of his tongue over the head, licking the precum that kept flowing. I dragged my cock over his beard, his cheeks, his lips, marking his face with my pre-cum. He had his eyes closed and his mouth open like a communicant.

—Father, open wide —I gasped—. Stick your tongue out, Father.

He obeyed. He put his whole tongue out, flat, offering it to me like a chalice. I sped up my hand on my cock, rubbing it fast, feeling everything collect at the base. When I could take it no longer, I tensed up, growled, and came on his open tongue. The first jet splattered his face from forehead to chin. The second landed in his mouth, thick and white. The third stained his lower lip and beard. I kept unloading onto his tongue until there was nothing left, and he swallowed the load with his eyes closed, as if it were a sacrament, not losing a single drop.

He looked at me from below. Those green eyes, shining. Beard smeared with my semen. He ran his tongue over his lips and licked what had been left on his face.

Guilt flooded me like a bucket of ice water.

He stood up, wrapped his arms around me, and crushed me against his bare chest. His heart was pounding as hard as mine. I could feel his soft, sticky cock against my hip.

—Now then —he said in a calm voice, priest once more—. Let’s get to the penance, son.

I knew that no penance in the world would erase what I had just discovered about myself: that I had been born to have a cock inside me, in my mouth or my ass, and that I would come back to that office every Wednesday afternoon as long as Father Nicolás let me in.