The Confessional

byReverendS©

(I'd like to thank everybody who responded to my last story, which was my first one. I did not expect it to be so well received, and was happy to hear that it was. Please keep your comments and suggestions coming, as I enjoy reading them, and I promise I will try to write as much of these as you want. Thanks again!)

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It had been a slow couple of hours in the confessional booth when the Reverend heard the girl enter the booth. He obviously hadn't known it was a girl when she first entered, but once she began to speak, the mental image became quiet clear.

Her voice was young and soft, and as it floated through the divider he could already imagine her gentle little mouth, pouting lips covered with pink lip-gloss. Her voice was already attractive, glimmering with an alluring innocence, but the conspiratorial hushed tone with which she spoke (with which most people spoke when confessing their sins) gave her voice a sultry, seductive tone as she breathed the words rather than spoke them.

As she went through the verbal tedium that led up to the actual confession, his mind painted a picture of what the body that held those glossy lips looked like. She sounded like an older child, but not quite mature yet, so he placed her in the late teens, those delicate years when a girl is on the brink of becoming a woman, developing both physically and emotionally. So in his mind's eye she was dressed like a young girl, wearing the kind of uniform a private school might have her wear, complete with red pleated skirt, white blouse, and pigtails held in place by bright read ribbons.

Breaking from the traditional school uniform, however, were the white nylon stocking and garters, and the red high heels she wore were probably against most dress codes. Her body, in contrast to her youthful dress, leaned towards the other end of the spectrum. Small and dainty, yes, but with fully developed curves along the thighs and hips, as well as firm and perky breasts not yet in need of support. And supporting those pink lips, a baby face of youthful innocence with just a hint of wanton lust lurking beneath it, with deep baby blue eyes, soft round features, and a dainty smile to top it all off.

The Reverend found himself obsessing on this mental image of the girl to the point where he was only half-listening to her confession, until his ear tripped over the words 'Slumber Party'. He quickly faked a cough and cleared his throat to restart the dialogue.

"Pardon me, child. So, you said a slumber party?"

"Yes, father." She sighed the words, and he could almost see those pink lips mouthing them. "Susie had invited me to sleep over Friday night, since we were both going to the mall Saturday morning. We do it all the time."

His brain began a complex series of mental gymnastics, rearranging the image to fit the scene she was describing. Gone was the school uniform, replaced by a little pink tank top, white panties with a little red heart pattern, and pink fuzzy slippers. He kept the pigtails and lip-gloss, however, to keep things familiar. Knowing nothing about her bunkmate but her name, the Susie in his mind was slightly taller than the girl, a bit more slender, with longer legs and smaller breasts. He pictured her face as slightly more angular than the girl, her dark hazel eyes framed by high cheekbones and brunette bangs. She was barefoot, and wore a maroon nightshirt that concealed her powder blue underwear. He placed them both on a large four-poster bed, bouncing around playfully as they took quizzes from woman's magazines and gossiped about boys, giggling and blushing.

"We didn't do anything special that night," she continued, "we just talked and listened to music, tried to figure out which stores we wanted to shop at the next day." She paused, a good sign that she was getting to the 'sinful' part. "But at one point we started talking about boys, and I let slip to Susie that I still hadn't kissed a boy. She's much more experienced than me, and I was embarrassed when she didn't believe me at first."

This was usually the point in most confessions when he would ask the person to leave out the unimportant details and simply explain what they felt they had done wrong. But no, not this time. This was a special case. Every detail was as important as the last to him, and he needed to know them all. She paused again, and he found himself egging her on, pushing her to continue her story.

"Go on, child."

"Yes, well..." she stammered for a moment, and he feared she would lose her nerve. "So she started telling me how cool it felt, and how she loved kissing boys, and couldn't imagine not knowing what fun it was, and I just got more and more embarrassed. That's when she asked me if I wanted her to show me what it felt like."

The Reverend almost gulped audibly. "And what did you say?"

"Well, I was so embarrassed by now, I felt like I would have been chicken if I said no."

"And so you said yes?" He prodded her to continue.

"Yes."

"And did she show you?"

"Yes." Suddenly she wasn't as free with the details. He'd have to draw them out of her.

"And how did she show you?"

There was a long pause before she answered. "She kissed me."

The scene in his head started moving again, and he could see her becoming a little nervous and quiet as the brunette slides closer to her on the bed, leans over slowly, and gently touches her lips to hers, both with eyes closed as their mouths press together.

"Did you like it?"

Another pause. "Yes."

Her lips tremble slightly as the brunette kisses harder, parting her mouth slightly.

"Did you kiss her back?"

Quieter this time, almost a whisper. "Yes father, I did."

The girl parts her mouth as well, and their two tongues dart out at one another, flicking along lips and exploring mouths. The brunette places her hand on the girl's leg while their tongues play, feeling the smooth skin just above her knee.

The Reverend suddenly realized that his imagination was getting the best of him, and he was becoming aroused, physically as well as mentally. He could feel his manhood swelling in his trousers as he envisioned this forbidden lust. He hoped she couldn't hear it in his voice as he questioned her.

"What happened next, child?"

"Well, that was it. She kissed me, and I said cool, and we went back to talking."

"That is all you need to confess to?" It looked as if his fun was already over.

"Um, no. Later that night, after we went to sleep, something else happened. We were both sleeping on her bed that night."

The audience of his mind cheered as the scene was quickly recast. Now he had both girls, still dressed the same, sleeping on top of the sheets, a slight sheen of sweat from the summer night glistening on their bodies. This vision did nothing to lessen his excitement, and a growing bulge began to strain against his pants.

"We must have cuddled up in our sleep," she continued, "because I woke up in the middle of the night, and we were pressed up together. Susie's head was next to mine, and her one arm was curled up on top of me, with her hand resting on my..." She froze, embarrassed to continue. He new exactly where Susie's hand had been, but he needed to hear her say it.

"Where was her hand, child. This is very important."

"Her hand was on my boob. She was asleep and all, but she kept wiggling around, and she was breathing on my neck, and every time she moved her fingers would rub against my..."

"Go on, its okay." Oh god, don't stop now, he thought.

"Um, my nipple. And between her breath and her fingers, I..." She trailed off again, but by now he had already envisioned the delicate fingers cupping her breast, her nipple hardening visibly through the fabric. He was hardening even more now, and he found himself unconsciously grabbing his growing erection, squeezing it through the trousers. It was then that he caught a sigh from the girl that sounded different from the others, something more involved. He decided to take a chance, hoping he read the noise right."

"So you found yourself aroused by your friend's closeness, aroused sexually."

"Yes, Father."

He pushed a little more. "So the combination of her hot breath on your neck, along with her absently playing with your breast, got you excited?"

"Yes." There was a pause after her answer, and then he heard it again, that gentle sigh, almost a subtle gasp. She was getting as excited talking about it as he was listening."

"And talking about how you felt, is it effecting you now?"

There was a scary second of silence when he thought she would flee the confessional, but then she answered, "Yes, it is."

The scene in his head sprung back into action as he got her rolling again. "What did you do, that night, when you became aroused by your friend's actions?"

"Um, I played with myself."

"Please me more specific, child." Once again, he knew what she meant, but he had to her it, needed to hear the words come from those pink glossed lips.

"I, uh, reached down and played... er, rubbed my..." she struggled for a non-offensive word, but blurted out "pussy."

Hearing the young girl use such language should have angered him, but instead it drove him mad with lust, his organ swelling even more as he began to massage it through the pants, unable to ignore it. He nearly choked on the excitement when he asked her his next question.

"When you rubbed it, was it wet?"

"Yes." There was no mistaking the tone in her voice now; she was definitely hot, and not trying to hide it. He had to push it further.

"Are you wet now, thinking about that night?"

There was another long pause. She probably had an idea how turned on he was as well, but he couldn't bring himself to be worried about it. All he cared about now was feeding the images in his mind of this young girl lying on her bed, her friend curled up next to her, rubbing her pussy through her panties, soaking them with her juices. Finally, she answered.

"Yes, I am."

"What you should do, child," he could hardly believe he was saying this, "is rub your pussy now like you did that night. It's okay to do so, I won't mind."

Not only didn't he mind, he was desperately trying to unzip his pants without making any noise, so he could proceed with some rubbing of his own. As hot as the bedroom scene had been getting, a new image had now entered his thoughts, a vivid picture of the girl on the other side of the confessional, skirt hiked, fingers sliding beneath her underwear. The silence was deafening now, as he could practically hear her pulling up her skirt, hesitantly touching herself. The zipper finally conquered, he at last pulled his raging hard-on out into the open, gripping it with one hand, feeling it pulse with his heartbeat as he listened intently.

"Are you playing with yourself?" He asked, needing to know. "Like you were that night?"

"Yes, Father, I am." When she finally answered, her voice was filled with heated gasps and moans, clear signs that she was working herself up.

The Reverend couldn't hold back anymore, and he began stoking his rigid prick, fanning the flames that were now consuming him. He could hear her moaning, breathing hard as he breathed hard, both mirroring the other's actions through the partition.

"When you played with yourself that night, did you put any of your fingers inside your pussy?"

"Oh yes, Father." She was becoming bolder now, the heat of the moment steeling her against the fears and inhibitions that only minutes earlier threatened to cut her confession short. "I used my fingers."

"Then use them now," he breathed. He heard a little moan from her side, and his mind began flipping back and forth between two scenes. In one the girl on the bed with her friend, hand between her legs, masturbating cautiously so as not to wake the sleeping Susie. In the other, the girl in the confessional lifting one leg onto her seat as she pulls her panties to one side, sliding a finger up and down her moist slit, getting it wet and then sliding it in, her hips gently bucking as she probes her dripping cunt with it. Susie's head snuggling against her as she fights back any noises of pleasure, her head leaning against the confessional wall as she fingers herself. The images started coming faster and hotter, and so he started jerking off faster and harder in response.

The girl was moaning openly now, and he let himself grunt out as he pumped his cock in his fist, their noises exciting one another.

"When you did that the other night, did you fantasize about Susie, about how it would feel if they were her fingers?"

"Oh yes," she gasped. "Every time I slipped my finger in, I secretly wished that she would wake up and start playing with my breast for real, even reach down and slide her fingers in with mine. That's what I needed to confess father, my nasty thoughts when I played with my wet pussy." She was getting really bold now, and she seems to be getting off on her dirty talk as much as he was.

"That's not good at all, child." He could barely get the words out coherently. "Such thoughts and behaviors are those of common sluts. Is that what you want to be, a dirty little slut?" He could feel himself getting close now, and was stroking his dick feverishly in anticipation. Her response by itself almost made him come.

"But I can't help it, Father! I can't help doing these nasty things. I don't want to be a smutty little girl, but it just feels so good when I finger myself!"

"Then shut your trashy little mouth and finger fuck that dripping snatch!" Their voices were getting dangerously loud now, and he was getting dangerously close to coming. They had to end this now, and together.

"Did you come when you fingered yourself that night?" He was practically rocking the booth with his rapid masturbating motions, and he could swear he felt her lurching against the divider.

"Oh yes, I came so hard just think about Susie and feeling her warmth on me, on my neck, on my tit..."

"Then make yourself come like you did that night." He growled at her through his teeth. "I want to hear you come now!"

They both exploded together. He nearly jumped up as he shot his load, splattering the wall of the booth as jism pumped from his prick like a fire hose. At the same time he could hear her high pitched whimpering as she finally climaxed, keeping quiet like a good little girl, shaking the divider as the orgasm quaked through her. It seemed as if their mutual release lasted for minutes, and the silent moments afterward as they both came down from that sexual high seemed like hours. It was the girl who eventually spoke first.

"So, what is my penance, Father?"

He was still catching his breath, and it took him a moment to respond. "There will be no penance for this deed, my child. I can tell that you're a good girl at heart, even if bad thoughts do occur to you. But what I do want you to do is inform me of any further activities that take place between you and Susie. Its important that I find out where this leads."

"Yes Father, I will." There was a quiet rustling as she got herself situated, and she was gone. The Reverend was so exhausted that he just sat there unzipped and hanging out during the next confession, an old woman confessing to shoplifting lipstick at the local Safeway, and casually wondered if she even noticed the strong smell of sex that permeated the confined booths.

This was going to be quiet an interesting summer.