Though parted by a wall within a darkened confession box, Father Jon knew exactly who she was by the sound of her voice. And he also knew how long it had been since the last time she had entered the walls of his church. Her name was Annabelle, she was twenty-two, and had left for school in New York on her eighteenth birthday. He remembered how bright and full of hope she had been upon hearing the news of her acceptance into the prestigious college program. She was such a good girl, a town favourite, always volunteering on the weekends, working on her academics and straying far from boys. She dressed modestly, so much so that before she left, nobody was even slightly aware of the soft, sensual hourglass forming under her long skirts, loose sweaters, bare face, and innocent tightly braided hair.

Jon was the epitome of religious, puritan, patriarchal dignity to nearly everybody he had encountered, staying true to the church’s traditional rules and leading a path of celibacy. That said, he was not, in truth, without urges; behind closed doors, an unseen side of him unravelled.

Because of his position, he had many women come to trust him to the highest degree, almost as though he were god himself and they had free reign to tell him everything and anything. In the confession boxes, when women would disclose, often ashamed, of their hands wandering over their warm silky labias, or their eyes towards the bulge in a man’s pants at the supermarket, though keeping his verbal composure and quieting his heavy breathing, he could feel his own manhood, hot and engorged, press against the fabric of his pants, sometimes so strongly that it was uncomfortable. His release came from the great attention to detail he had acquired in his life towards the other townspeople. See, because he was so involved in the church and community, he had grown close with nearly everybody in it, and so he knew all their little quirks as well; the pitch of their voice, their lingo, the way their feet and bodies moved… It goes without saying, that he could tell practically immediately who had entered the confession box without ever having to see them. Sometimes, after a long night of confessions, he would go home and mull over the words he had heard and he would think of all those women, almost all modest housewives by day, with these dark sexual urges. He would let himself tug on his great cock, and imagine his hand to be the glossy red mouth of one of those dirty animalistic women who pose as innocent caregivers by daylight.

“Tell me your sins child.” He heard wavering heavy breath, “Okay,” conceded Annabelle.

“I had premarital sex-sexual intercourse…” She began, “With maybe, a bit more than one person… I know I sound like a whore, I just got-get…” She sighed, “so tempted…” There was a pause.“It’s okay, you are very righteous to seek forgiveness, please continue,” xoaxed Jon with reassurance, though he could not possibly imagine what he would be hearing next.

When Annabelle first arrived in New York, she was in shock over the vastly different culture of the metropolitan city compared to her small, catholic hometown. She immediately bonded to her dorm-mate, Lindsay, for she was another small-town girl. The two related over their traditional ways and religious convictions. Since they both felt so lost and isolated in this new world, it wasn’t long until the two made one of their own, and they became so faithfully intertwined that they allowed their bodies to sleep side-by-side at night for comfort and innocent stability.

One night, on their first summer, it had become too hot for their usual pajamas and they got into bed together wearing nothing but cotton panties and tank-tops. Annabelle was pale, freckled, with long dark hair, perky breasts, a small waits and a modest bum. Lindsay had caramel colored skin, large eyes, big curly hair and, though tight and in shape, a round, thick behind and thighs. It was the first time they had seen the shape of each other’s bodies, and as they crawled into bed, they both tried not to look, caught by embarrassed modesty.

They got into bed and spooned, intertwining in such a way that Lindsay’s thigh rested between Annabelle’s legs. With each breath either of them would take, Lindsay’s thigh would move just enough with the movement of their inhales and exhales that it would softly rub Annabelles vulva through her panties. Annabelle had never felt this sensation before and, because she had been raised so modestly and pure, she didn’t think much of it at first, just that it felt good. After a few minutes, she began to realize that her body seemed to be moving on it’s own, and she felt powerless to stop it, as if it were hungry for something she couldn’t possibly know and it needed the hunger satiated urgently. She felt her hips moving back and forth, and she realized that what she was feeling was dirty and, surprisingly, instead of retreating herself over that realization, a soft moan escaped her lips. For a moment she felt embarrassed and shocked over the passion that just accidently fell from her, but in that same moment, she felt Lindsay’s hand slide over her breast. “Does that feel good?” she heard, and all she could utter was another soft moan. Lindsay had also never experienced such a thing either, though she had always felt a strong, sinful attraction to women, and would sometimes snatch the shopping flyers from her house recycling and touch herself to the photos of naked women modelling department store underwear. Lindsay had never felt another naked woman and could not contain herself upon feeling the grooves of Annabelles crotch getting hotter and wetter on her thigh.

Soon, Annabelle’s body took over entirely. She had no say in what sins her animalistic urges would lead her too. She started to grind, hard, on Lindsay’s leg until her panties were completely soaked through. Lindsay too lost control and in one motion, flipped Annabelle onto her back, pulled her panties off and pushed her thighs up until her pussy was directly in front of her face. “Oh god…” Annabelle moaned, and quickly felt a surge of shame, she tensed, “Wait, Lindsay!” she began. As her words came out, Lindsay’s tongue began to gently explore her inner thighs, tasting annabelles wetness that had seemed to drench her whole body by now. Lindsay couldn’t help but let herself gyrate into the bed as she took in Annabelles scent.

Annabelle was lost in pleasure. “More… Oh God…” she moaned, over and over as Lindsay teased, running her moistened tongue all over her thighs and mound. Lindsay looked at Annabelle’s vulva, which seemed to open up like a dewy flower, she let her eyes scale down, seeing the tight hole of her vagina pulsating with want, and finally down to the little asshole that grinded between two taught pale cheeks into the mattress. Lindsay pressed herself into Annabelle, and couldn’t tell if her face was drenched from her own drooling of desire, Annabelle’s wetness or both. She struck her tongue against Annabelle’s asshole and let it drag slowly to the top of her vulva. Then she did it again, and again… “Oh God… Oh God… God… Oh…” Annabelle moaned uncontrollably,, she felt so dirty and she loved the humiliation of it. As she felt her virgin pussy being desecrated for the first time, and by another woman’s serpent tongue at that; all she could picture were the looks of shock and anger of all the conservative members of her family and small town if they were to find out, and it only made her hotter. She imagined herself being pounded from behind on the pew of a church for everybody to see, she felt like a whore and she loved it.

Annabelle pushed harder and harder into Lindsay, letting her tongue slide harder and deeper into and around her holes. Lindsay brought a hand up and pushed a finger into Annabelle’s pussy, and while it hurt at first, Lindsay couldn’t help but say “More.” over and over again, louder and louder. Lindsay’s tongue circled Annabelle’s erect clitoris, Annabelle’s body shaking in pleasure now. Lindsay grinded her pussy into the bed harder and harder as well and felt herself close to coming. An urge overcame her to stick a finger into Annabelles perky ass as well, and Annabelle sighed and moaned louder than ever before, it was so wrong and dirty. Annabelle felt herself getting closer and closer to something, and she sucked on her pillow just to find out what it was like to have all her holes stuffed at once. She was in ecstasy, feeling her pussy and ass getting pounded harder and harder as a tongue circled her clit and drank in her wetness. Finally, her body gave one last, enormous quiver, her thighs tightening strongly around Lindsay’s head, and she moaned louder than she had ever even spoken before. Lindsay came too, from the sheer pleasure of Annabelles pussy release another flow of moisture and her asshole quivering tightly around her fingers.

They heard a knock on their dorm-room door, it was getting late and they must have disturbed a neighbor. Lindsay pulled her sopping face from between Annabelles legs and looked up at the door. There were both drenched, hot, and red in the face.