Confession

I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't want you this way. I know this. And yet, time and again my thoughts turn lustful when I think of you.

I can't stop imagining you touching me, your tongue flicking against my taut nipples, your fingers gliding over my stomach, finding the spot which is in a constant state of aching wetness.

I can't stop imagining dropping to my knees, freeing you from your jeans, feeling you pulse against my lips as I take you deep inside my hungry mouth. I want to taste you. I want to feel you cum, feel it hit the back of my throat as I drink from you.

I imagine you pushing me roughly against the wall, forcing yourself inside my aching desire, thrusting deep, your breath hot and heavy against my neck. Your fingers probe in that taboo location, filling me, making me scream.

God help me, but the things I would let you do to me are numerous. And ever so wrong.

Even now as I confess, my fingers slip beneath my skirt to touch myself, to try to relieve this ache. But it is your fingers I am imagining... First one, two, then a third, slipping inside me. It is your tongue I imagine flicking against that sensitive spot as I rub it desperately. It is you bringing me closer and closer to release.

Do you feel it to, I wonder? Do you find yourself lost in these same thoughts? Do you fight to keep yourself from throbbing in passionate need when you think of me? Do you give in to the desire, touching yourself while imagining it's me touching you?

What do you think of when you think of me? What would you do to me? With me? What is your confession?

Fire and Ice

Absynthe Trinowski sighed, her shoulders slumped as she filled her coffee. It wasn’t that she disliked Bible Study. She just disliked Bible Study with this group of women. They were a very judgmental sort. If it hadn’t been her turn to serve coffee and treats, she would have skipped the study all together – as she did most weeks. She turned to join the other women, pasting a smile on her face.

Just as she settled into her seat, Pastor Thomas Kincaid stepped into the fellowship hall. This was unexpected. Sally, one of the elderly women of the congregation, was supposed to lead the study. Pastor Thomas had only recently been installed as the pastor, and Syn didn’t think he was taking over the group already. Not that she had a problem with it – at least it would give her something to concentrate on.

After the customary introductions, and a bit of small talk, Pastor Thomas instructed the women to open their Bibles. As the Pastor read a few select verses, Syn found her eyes secretly looking him over. He was probably a good fifteen years her senior, but fit. She could tell he took care of his body. His hair had a few grey streaks, but she liked that. She wanted to run her fingers through that hair.

“Absynthe?” the voice of one of the ladies pulled Syn from her thoughts.

“I’m sorry…”

Sally shook her head in disapproval. “It’s your turn to read.”

The pastor leaned over and pointed to where they were at in the study guide. Syn gave him a small apologetic smile and started reading. She realized after the first sentence that this week’s lesson was about sexual sin. She felt a blush creep up her neck as she read about masturbation, oral and anal sex, and other sexual acts. She could feel Thomas’ eyes watching her closely. She read quickly, stopping when the pastor requested.

He thanked her, then asked the next woman to continue the reading. Syn tried to keep her eyes on the reading, but the heat of his stare kept pulling her eyes towards him. She startled as she recognized the fire in her was mirrored in his eyes. She bit her lip nervously, putting her trembling hands in her lap. Thomas reached across her lap, his hand hidden from the view of everyone else, and placed it over her folded ones, squeezing softly.

Absynthe breathed a sigh of relief as the last woman left the church. The pastor had left with a few of the women, so Syn was alone as she began cleaning up.

“Any coffee left?”

Thomas’ voice startled Syn and she dropped the pitcher of ice water on the counter. He laughed, and came around to the kitchen to help her wipe up the mess. Syn stumbled as he accidentally brushed against her. He reached out instinctively to help her, an ice cube still in his hand. She shivered at the combination of warmth and ice against her bare skin. Her eyes locked with his.

As if his hand a mind of its own, it slowly caressed the ice cube up and down the sensitive flesh, gazing down at the short, blonde woman. Syn took a step closer to him, her lower lip quivering. As the ice disappeared, he reached behind him, grabbing another cube. This one he brought to her neck, gliding it over her, drops of water sliding down to her collar bone. Thomas leaned in, lapping up the water. The heat of his tongue brought a whimper from her lips. Her whimper caused him to move the ice lower, sliding it over the swell of her breasts. His other hand slowly pulled the spaghetti straps down her shoulders, and pushed the material down, freeing her breasts from the built in bra of her shirt. Her whimper came on shaky breath as Thomas slid the ice over a nipple, watching it grow taut, torturing her until she could barely stand.

“Please,” she whispered desperately, gazing drunkenly into his eyes. He smiled, lowering his head, taking her nipple into the heat of his mouth, warming it. She cried out, falling into him. She was no longer in control of her actions, her body acting on instinct, her hands sliding under his shirt, her nails raking over his chest.

Thomas cupped her rear, still sucking on her breast as he lifted her onto the counter, pulling her skirt up. He reached around and found another ice cube, pulling away from her to watch her gaze yet again as he slowly slid the black lace panties to the side. He slid the frozen cube over her slit causing her to squirm and moan. He held it against her hard sensitive nub, a smile playing on his lips as she bucked against the ice cube. She’d never experienced anything like this. It was painful, yet she could feel the pleasure building inside. Each breath that escaped her lips was a whimper, a plea. Thomas finally answered that plea, leaning close to her, his breath against her frozen need. His tongue flicked against the nub and she cried out, thrusting against the heat of him. He licked again, wrapping his lips around her swollen flesh.

Syn gripped his shoulders, leaning back to give him better access, her hips raising off the counter and pressing against his burning tongue. Thomas chuckled, pulling away, replacing the heat with the frigid ice again. Syn cried, tears of desperation slipping down her cheek. Her hips rocked against the ice as he pressed it just slightly inside her, then brought his lips down on her against. The battle of heat and cold both acting on her at the same time was too much. Syn screamed, cumming hard as he darted his tongue into her, tasting her.

Lost in Thought

I reread the email you sent. It was probably the dozenth time, or more, that I'd read your words. And just as the first eleven times, I felt a sudden warmth begin to pool between my legs. It wasn't even that you'd written anything remotely deserving of this sharp desire. And yet there it was.

I tried to shake it off, which is how I ended up in this bath, bubbles covering me as the hot water engulfed me. I thought that maybe a little relaxation would ease the ache inside me.

I slid my fingers over my stomach, up to my breasts. My nipples were already hard just from remembering your gentle words. I slid my thumbs over the taut tips, sighing softly as I sank lower into the tub. I rolled my nipples between my thumb and forefinger, wishing I could feel your teeth softly nibbling.

Continuing to let my fingers on one hand play with first one hard nipple, then the next, I allowed my other hand to slide back down my stomach. I could still hear your voice whisper that I'm loved. My hand moved lower. I could still feel your eyes gazing deeply into mine. My hand caressed over my need. I trembled at the contact. While I knew it wasn't your touch, and wished desperately that it could have been, just the slightest touch from my own hand had me writhing, craving more.

I could feel how hot and wet I was, and let my fingers massage back and forth over that moist heat for a few moments. I stopped every now and then to circle my fingers over my hardening clit. Each time I connected with it, i bucked a little, splashing water around me. My eyes closed, my thoughts centered solely on you, imagining it was your fingers, your touch, your lips caressing me. My finger slipped inside me, then another, probing the heat. I rocked against my hand, desperate for release. The fingers of my other hand tightened over the nipple, squeezing it harder, pain radiating through me, but turning instantly to pleasure.

It wasn't enough. God it wasn't enough. I needed more. Anxiously, I reached over the tub, finding a small shampoo bottle. It wasn't you. It wasn't what I wanted. But it was more than my fingers could provide. Without another thought, I pressed the bottle to my wetness, caressing it over my slit, closing my eyes again to the feel. I again let myself remember your voice, the way you used to hold me, and I quickly buried the bottle inside me, whimpering aloud as I imagined it you buried deep....

Beware the Seductress

Joseph closed his eyes for a brief moment, pausing in the middle of the sermon to mentally say a quick prayer for strength. When he reopened his eyes, he made sure to keep his focus on the back of the congregation. Luckily, the people were used to his dramatic pauses during his sermons, so they thought nothing of this one. Unluckily, Joseph was finding that keeping his attention away from the front pew was more difficult than he anticipated. He watched the petite red-head slowly slide her tongue across her top lip, and silently prayed he wouldn't have to drop the Bible he held to the front of his slacks.

Eden smiled demurely at the pastor. She knew the affect she was having on him. She did this to the poor man every Sunday. And after getting him worked up to the point where he could barely hide it, she would sneak out the side door. They never spoke to each other. She slowly slid her hand to the collar of her blouse, deftly unbuttoning the top button, then the next...

Joseph cleared his throat, dropping the Bible lower, and rushing to finish the last of the sermon. Dear God what was he thinking to allow himself to be tempted - in church no less? And what was she thinking to be tempting him in such a way? The service continued, rushed along by Joseph. By the time they got to the closing hymn, he was wishing they could have skipped the hymn all together. Especially as he let his eyes wander to the lovely woman in that front pew.

Eden pulled her skirt up a bit more, showing off a good deal of thigh. She squirmed in the pew, teasing the minister was turning her on - and as she watched him lower the hymnal, she knew she wasn't going to sneak out this time. She'd finally succeeded in seducing him to the point where it was physically evident. She watched as everyone filtered out of the sanctuary, each stopping to shake hands with Pastor Joseph. Joseph kept looking towards her, until the crowd got too thick and she was hidden from his view. As soon as the acolyte left, Eden slipped unnoticed into the sacristy. It wasn't a very large room, but it was private, had locks, and - more importantly - she knew the pastor would have to come into the little room. She unbuttoned another button, the red lace peeking over the buttons of her blouse, and sat on the chair to wait for him.

Joseph removed his stole and cincture, hanging them up. As he took off his robe, he jumped a bit as he realized he wasn't alone.

"Um... " he swallowed a few times, trying to find his voice. "Can I help you?"

Eden simply smiled, walked over to the door to close and lock it, then turned back to the man. "Oh, I have a feeling you can..."

Joseph swallowed again. "I don't think we've officially met...?" He silently chastised himself for his trembling hand as he offered it to her. Her hands were soft and warm as she wrapped her fingers around his.

"Eden." Even the simple way she stated her name made Joseph's body react. He definitely wanted to explore her garden. He groaned inwardly at his play on her name.

Common sense and the realization he was a man of God, and was in God's house, seemed to disappear as she stepped closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off her. He could hear her breath - the shakiness of it betraying her false confidence. That shakiness was his undoing. He knew she was uncomfortable, and yet desired him.

"What can I do for you, Eden?" He whispered, his hand still enveloped in hers.

"I was hoping you could help... I have this... emptiness...?" there was a definite fire in her eyes, but also a hesitancy. He started to realize that his little seductress didn't usually do this. He should be curious, and perhaps worried, that she was seducing him, but he brushed off the thought.

"Just where is this emptiness?" 

Still holding his hand in hers, she led it to her chest, pressing his fingers against her breast. He could feel her hardening nipple beneath the fabric, and lightly caressed his thumb over it. She let out a small whimper at his touch, a whimper that caused him to grow hard instantly. He brought his other hand to her cheek, lightly caressing.

"Any where else?" He gazed deep into her uncertain eyes. She bit her lip as she took his hand again, slowly sliding it down her stomach, over her hip. She paused.

"I... " Eden took a step back, releasing his hand, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't..." She turned quickly, her hand just making it to the doorknob when Joseph reached out for her.

"There's nothing to be sorry for." He pushed her up against the door, claiming her trembling lips with his own, his hand slipping under her skirt. "Is this the other place?" his husky whisper and the heat of his hand made her melt. She rocked her hips against the heat, desperately needing his touch....