The Confession

Anna looked up at the church front, shielding her eyes from the sun, which was only partially hidden by the steeple. One of the largest churches in town, Catholic, it's facade dark brick with several towers guarding the perimeter, each boasting a simple wooden cross. She looked over at Andrew.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

Neither of them were religious, unless you counted the occasional savior's name in vain. In fact, Anna hadn't seen the inside of a church since she was six, where here grandmother dragged her every week for Sunday school. And every week she had been ceremoniously dolled up in frilly whites, against her wishes, and made to sit in a sweltering room for three hours to learn exactly why she was going to hell.

Andrew smiled and took her hand "Come on."

He pulled her up the front steps to the wooden doors, which were already open and inviting. Despite her lack of religious modesty, she wished she had worn something more conservative. It wasn't that she was showing much skin, but her pink dress was almost sinfully thin, revealing the outline of her bare breasts. And if it was cold inside the building...

She hesitated at the entrance, but Andrew tugged her through, still smiling a hidden agenda. A burst of cold air hit them from below. She looked down to see that they were standing over an air vent, which was causing her dress to billow and flutter around her knees. She stepped over it quickly and looked around.

"Wow." Her mouth hung open, her eyes widening.

Sunlight broke through the stained glass windows, some with portraits of the Virgin Mary, some with Jesus, or doves guided by shafts of light. The interior of the church was sparkling with blues and greens, reds and yellows. The pews were deserted, as was the pulpit. As far as she could tell, they were alone.

"Where is everyone?' she asked.

'The afternoon sermon ended an hour ago, and evening mass doesn't start for another two hours."

"Oh, okay. So what are we doing here?"

He only smiled and took up her hand again, maneuvering them around the right side of the pews and into a small alcove. There was what seemed to be a large wooden booth with a partition marking two sides. A rich, red curtain closed off each section.

"What is this?" she asked.

He pulled the left curtain aside and motioned her in. "Confessional."

She laughed unintentionally, but he made no move or indication he was joking. She cocked her head at him.

"You're serious?"

"Get in." He urged her on with his hand on the small of her back.

"Andrew-"

He gave her a final nudge forward and then let the curtain fall closed when she was inside. She turned back to look at him, but he was already gone. The booth was much larger than it appeared from the outside. The walls were bare, but there was a small bench sitting low to the ground. She sat on it, breathing a heavy sight, and let her hands fall to her lap while she waited to see what he would do next.

She heard a small scuffing noise and looked to the partition. A small panel slid open, letting a negligible amount of light into the booth. There was iron latticework in the pane, making it difficult to see who was on the other side.

"Andrew, is that you?"

"What do you have to confess?" he asked.

"Seriously, we're going to get in trouble. This has to be a sin. Or something."

He repeated "What do you have to confess?"

She leaned back into the wall, knowing she would have to play along. It didn't seem he would be giving up any time soon.

"Well, I think I may be having sex with my husband too often." she laughed, hoping that would deter him and end the game.

"Interesting." he said. "Do you enjoy it?"

Yes." she sighed. It certainly wasn't a lie, but she felt slightly uncomfortable sitting in that booth and confessing to a man she knew to be her husband.

"Have you had any impure thoughts?"

She smiled to herself "Yes."

"Tell me about them."

She took a deep breath, not sure if she should answer him honestly, or fabricate some wildly shocking ones. She decided on the truth, lest he collect on the others.

"Well," she started "when he's not with me-"

"Your husband?"

"Yes. When he's not with me, I think about him. A lot."

"What do you think about?"

"Sometimes I think about the last time we had sex, or I think about what I'd like to do with him."

"When you're thinking of these things, do you touch yourself?"

She was sure she could hear the smile in his voice "Yes." she answered.

"How do you do it?"

She began to feel that familiar pressure building between her hips. "I stroke myself," she said "and put my fingers inside me."

"Do you make yourself come doing this?"

"Yes."

This game of his was beginning to have an effect on her, one she was sure wasn't appropriate to church. She crossed her legs, increasing the pressure. Thinking of him there now, listening to all she was confessing, was making her anxious. What would her Sunday school teacher think of her, the girl who played Mary in the Christmas play?

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" he asked.

"Yes." Her breathing deepened, her hand wanted to roam. She knew her nipples were hard, feeling the fabric of her dress grating against them with each breath. "I'm thinking of my husband right now."

"And are you excited?"

"Yes." She was losing herself, spiraling dangerously fast into indecency. She took a deep breath and righted herself, trying to return to her earlier, lighter mood.

"So," she laughed "What's my penance for this...father?"

She hadn't been looking at the little panel, but heard it slide closed. She sat up, rigid and proper, smoothing her hair. She heard footsteps before the curtain opened. Andrew stepped in, the booth barely large enough to accommodate him. He stood over her, the look on his face one she was intimately familiar with. She rose, the slim booth allowing only a foot of space between them.

"Andrew-" He reached out for her before she could finish, his arm wrapping around her waist, drawing her body into his. The force of it caused the air to leave her. His mouth was over hers, covetous. She opened her mouth to taste him, rolling her tongue over his. Already she could feel his erection pressing against her stomach.

She moved back to step onto the bench, her head above his. She looked down at him, panting, and slid her hands through his hair, her own falling around his shoulders. His hands moved to her face, pulling her mouth down to his again, biting her lips and tongue. He moved down to her neck, kissing and licking and biting it. She moaned and let her head fall back against the wall. Still holding her face, he kissed the hollow of her throat and then slipped over to her shoulders.

"Oh, god...Andrew." She clawed and pulled at his shirt.

He squeezed her breasts above the fabric of her dress and then bit down on her erect nipples, causing her to cry out for everyone to hear.. Taking hold on the neck of her dress, he pulled until the buttons popped off down to her navel. With the sound of breath and blood raging in her ears, she could barely hear the sound the tiny lacquered buttons made as they struck the walls and floor.

He pushed the fabric aside, exposing her breasts to the cool air and his mouth. His hands slid down her sides and over her stomach. She wound her fingers into his hair, pulling it, thrusting her hips into him.

He gripped her roughly by the waist and took her from the bench. She stood, heart racing, leaning against the wall. He made no move toward her, just watched the heavy rise and fall of her chest under her torn dress. Her pale skin flushed and excited pink. Leaning into her, he braced his hand against the wall. His other hand slipped under her dress and into her panties. He sighed against her neck as he cupped her., the palm of his hand already slick for her wetness. He paused there a minute before pushing a finger inside her.

She moaned, the hair on the back of her head grinding into the wood-paneled wall. Her legs shook and weakened. The arm he had been using as leverage came to help hold her up. He watched her face as his fingers moved in and out of her. She looked drugged, her eyes half opened, lips parted. Her breath was coming slower, as if she were holding it, only to be forced to let it go with each moan. When he removed his fingers she took his hand and brought it to her lips, licking her juices from him. He kissed her, tasting her in his mouth.

She moved back and dropped to her knees in front of him. Looking up at him while she tore at his belt, his hands snaked through her hair. She managed the belt and unfastened his pants, pulling him free. She wrapped her lips around the head and worked her tongue over him. She moaned around him as she sank further onto his length, feeling him reach the back of her tongue. She closed her eyes and prepared to take him further.

She felt herself being pulled away from him and lifted from the floor. He pressed her tight between him and the wall, feeling around beneath her dress and pulling her panties off. He took a firm hold on her ass and pulled her up the wall. Using the weight of his body to keep her pinned, he hooked her legs over his shoulders. Pulling his hips back, he positioned himself at her entrance. He pressed his palm into her cheek, hard, and leaned in to kiss her. As he did, his weight forced him inside her.

Crying out, her head thrashed violently. She didn't care any longer who heard her. He held onto her ass and thrust into her over and over again. He turned her face so she was forced to look at him as he drove deep inside her. Her tongue reached out for his thumb, which she sucked into her mouth.

Losing all sense of modesty and decency, her moans crescendoed into screams. Her nails bit into his shoulders and back, urging him on.

"Oh, god!" she screamed, as the pressure tightened inside her.

"Not yet." he said.

He shrugged her legs from his shoulders and set her down, turning her so her face and breasts were smashed against the cold wall. Her chest slid on it, slick with beads of sweat that rolled down from her neck. His hand encircled her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head. He secured his other arm around her, his hand flat against her stomach, and pulled her hips back into him.

Kicking her legs apart, he slid up inside her again. She cried out, her head falling back against his chest. Her own weight caused her to impale herself on him. He held tight to, lifting her slightly so he could move more easily inside her.

The booth excited with noise; the combined sounds of their breathing, his groans, her screaming. His hand pushed into her wrist bones with every thrust. He bit her back and neck, licking each mark he left.

"Oh, fuck. Christ..." she rocked her hips back into him, crying out in pain and pleasure as he reached as far as he could go.

"That's what I was hoping to hear."

He dug into her mercilessly. Her lips were crushed against the wall and she could taste it's dusty finish in her mouth. The pressure between her hips wound tighter, became excruciating. All at once it broke free, bursting throughout her and taking her breath. She could vaguely feel his effort to hold her body up.

His thrusts became quick, hard and deep. Finally, he groaned as his head fell to her back. She felt him emptying inside her, pulsing and spasming. They stayed that way for a while before he slipped out of her and pulled her upright. He held her to him, their combined juices coating her inner thighs.

He fastened his pants and did his best to gather her tattered dress around her. She pulled the curtain back and they hurried out of the confessional.