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The toilets in the foyer of the church are not made for what I plan to do to Caitlin, but the old stone church has no shortage of secluded alcoves and corners. My pulse increases as I breathe in the cool, stale air, scouting for the perfect spot to commit a sacrilegious sin. My excitement skyrockets moments later as Caitlin, in her virginal white dress, enters the church. She looks to the altar, does a Hail Mary, then quickly lowers her head.
She sees me and after glancing over her shoulder, she rushes my way.
“Aidan—” she starts, but I stop her words placing my finger over her lips.
“Shh…”
I replace my finger with my mouth and back her up against the stone wall in the shadows of a thick pillar. She tastes deliciously forbidden as I swallow her protests. Her hair is soft against my touch as I fist it and tilt her head back. She sighs and opens wider for me, her reservations momentarily forgotten.
My other hand travels up her thigh, under her skirt. She stops its ascent with both of hers.
“Aidan, I-I can’t do this, not in the church!”
I should listen to her; I should let her go. Let her keep some of her beliefs sacred and not tarnish them with my ill intent. But I’m already breathing hard, my cock lengthening in my trousers, turned on by this unholy behaviour.
“What did you feel out there?” I whisper. “How did it feel when they belittled you?”
She clamps her lips closed, but her grip on my hand is still strong. I can’t move my palm up, but I can move my fingers. I lightly caress the bare skin on her thigh, run my thumb up and down the inside of her leg, so close to where I know she wants it. She trembles when I place a soft kiss to her neck.
“They deserve this, they deserve that youfuckthem over behind their backs.”
She gasps at my words, uttered in a church. But now I see the need in her eyes, the need to rebel, to show them up, a desire that mixes with the lust that my thumb, drawing circles on the inside of her thigh, and my lips coax from her body.
“Remember how many times Father Murray has corrected you, shamed you?”
“Yes.” The word is barely above a whisper.
“Think about the next time you’re here with your parents. When your mother tells you to behave. When she praises your brother. The next time you’re at confession.” Her head tilts to the side, eying the wooden confession booth. I align my face with hers, her smooth cheek against my stubbles, and lower my voice. “When you kneel in there, and Father Murray lectures you, you can look over to this corner and know that you’re more than what they see.”
“Do it,” she whispers, letting go of my hand.
I waste no time ascending up to the apex of her thighs. Her stuttered breath washes over me when I slide my digits under her panties. It’s followed by a sweet moan that echoes between the stone walls and evokes a hungry rumble from my chest. As much as I’d love to fuck her hard and loud, I can’t risk getting caught. I turn Caitlin around and place my palm over her mouth. Thankfully she doesn’t wear make-up that can be smeared. My other hand slides down under her panties, between her lips, spreading the budding wetness.
“You’re sofuckingtight,” I growl as I push a digit into her hole. I feel more than hear her gasp, and I want to laugh. She’s more upset over the use of bad language in church than the illicit action of me fingering her.
I’d love to have a picture of this, of sweet Caitlin in her virginal dress being mauled by an older man in church. I make a promise to myself to draw this when I get home. I breathe in her strawberry scent and take note of the curve of her neck, her nails clawing at the wall, how she shuffles her feet wider to allow the base of my palm to press against her clit. Her eyelashes tremble against her flushed cheeks.
“You’re such a dirty girl, being touched by an old man in church,” I say, giving voice to our taboo actions. I’m notthatold, but thirty-six must seem ancient to an eighteen-year-old. “Riding his hand like a wanton slut.”
A muffled sound slips through my palm. She’s doing this to seek revenge on her parents, but she doesn’t realise that I’m also using her for my own revenge. I keep whispering dirty words and deeds in her ear while her ass rubs against my erection. She’s so wet, I’m sure someone could hear me fingering her across the church. It takes no time before shetenses, goes rigid in my arms.
“That’s it, naughty girl, give all your sins to me, let me have them.”
She moans deeply behind my palm and a gush of wetness coats my fingers in her panties. How I want to sink my cock into her, ride her ass until my cum mixes with hers. With regret, I pull my hand out.
She turns around and slumps against the wall, eyes glazed over, her cheeks rosy.
“You taste much better than the altar wine,” I say, and I lick my digits clean.
She splutters and quickly covers her giggle.
I smile wickedly.
Her gaze drops to the bulge in my jeans.
“Um… what about… you?”
I shake my head and sigh. “I’ll not be able to be quiet, little angel. Unless you want to get caught in church with a cock down your throat, we best leave it.”
