Sisters Of Eden - Sex Stories

Sisters Of Eden

... me, Leanne, have you had any sinful sexual thoughts since your last confession?” “Yes, Father, I have.” “About a young man?” “Yes, Father, about a young man.” “Tell me about it, Leanne.” “Well, I imagined I was lying asleep in my bed at night, and when I woke up he was kneeling astride me. He was totally naked, Father.” “Oh, and what was he doing?” “He was holding his hard length in his fingers and working it up and down, Father. It was covered in this smooth, shiny cream that was oozing from the top of it.” At this point, I heard a rustle of heavy cloth and knew that Father Oliver was lifting his cassock and starting to touch himself. “I see. Describe his long, hard thing for me, Leanne.” “Well, Father, it was thick and long, with veins like small purple rivers running up and down it. It was twitching and jerking in his fingers as he stroked it. And at the base he had these two round things, like soft, slightly hairy eggs, that seemed heavy and full.” Behind the screen I could hear Father Oliver’s breathing building, and a rhythmic, moist slapping sound. “And what happened then, Leanne?” he panted. “Tell me about this long, hard thing.” “He was rubbing it, harder and harder, and becoming more and more excited, Father. Then, suddenly...” I stopped deliberately. “Go on, Leanne,” he implored, clearly impatient and more than a little agitated. I paused a short while longer, for effect. “Well, then...his hard thing just came off in his hand, Father, like it had broken off.” I ...

... could almost hear the blood drain from Father Oliver’s body at this turn of events. “And underneath he had these folds of flesh, rather like mine down there. I looked up his torso and two swollen breasts with engorged nipples had grown. And then this delicious wine started pouring from his vagina, which I began to drink.” “I see,” said Father Oliver, his arousal by now becoming a rapidly fading memory. “And then, Father, the long, hard thing in his hand turned into a shiny, metal vibrating thing, which he brought down between my legs and...” “I think our time is nearly up, Leanne,” he growled. Just after I turned seventeen I became consciously aware of my first real sexual attraction to other women. I had noticed that one of the sisters who took us for physical instruction, Sister Theresa, who I estimated was probably around twenty-five, seemed to take great interest in me when it came to changing and showering after hockey or softball. Although she was as cold and remote as most of the other sisters, something in her hungry hazel eyes seemed to burrow inside me and create the most delicious tingling sensation between my legs. She would watch intensely as I soaped and lathered my breasts and between my legs. On more than one occasion I allowed my fingers to dwell provocatively on the puffy lips of my vagina and drag them up my slit and onto the sensitive bud, the pleasures of which I was just beginning to discover. The third phase in my confessional experience with Father Oliver ...