3 comments/ 12448 views/ 3 favorites Sweet Jesus: Confessional By: jill_gates Father Jesus was having one of the best Sunday's of his career as a newly minted pastor. The previous week, he had given his first sermon. The church picked him specifically because of his background. Growing up in a small town in Texas, Jesus De Santos was not the most ignorant young man living in South Miami, Florida, but he was close to it. The college he attended, St. Lucinda de Nuestra Maria, was only an hour's drive from his parents place. With a lot of the same people hanging out, and him being an exception off in a four year university, it was hard for him to get a perspective on not only himself, but the world at large. Friendly and affable, he was frequently doing things for others, being called, "A nice boy," despite his size, nearly five ten. At twenty-two, when he left college, it seemed that half of the professor's, both men and women, sighed at the departure. His square jaw looked chiseled straight out of a comic book. Along with his smooth, tan skin, the term, "Pretty boy," was bandied about as often as, "Doesn't know his arse from a hole in the ground." Trusting to a fault, Jesus joined the ministry because of a combination of faith in the general good natured spirit of people as well as his satisfaction in making others feel good. Unfortunately, that also meant despite his good looks, he never had a chance in his entire life to know what it was like to be with a woman. Despite the hormones raging inside, he seldom relieved himself, believing it was a sin. This resulted in him frequently getting too overzealous, excited at both the bible and giving sermons. Partly, he was trying to convince himself that his lustful desires were wrong. So when the occasional woman grew brazen enough to attempt to flirt with him, he sometimes picked up on it, but always said no. The one girlfriend he had in college for three years frequently made him so frustrated he used ice, but, she eventually broke up with him because she just, "Couldn't wait until marriage." Jesus surveyed the pews, the second time he was giving a sermon in front of his new parish. The opportunity was rare, for somebody only a year out of college, to lead a flock of believers each and every Sunday. The crowd was larger this week, though it seemed to his confused eyes that the group was about seventy percent women. Oddly, the number of men from the previous week had stayed the same. When he spoke, he pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on his message. The ending was near and he loudly declaimed, in a smooth baritone, the relevant verse. "That if you believe in your heart, and confess with your mouth, that Jesus is lord, you will be saved." The line always brought a mist to Jesus's eyes, for in his difficult days, it was that line which made his faith even stronger, while at the same time, gave him hope that his lustful desires and thoughts would not prevent his ascension to heaven. Looking around the room and seeing the women, and men, nodding and chanting back amen gave him a thrill like nothing else. Each and every person in the room was special to him, and he was determined to do all he could to get to know them, to help, to advise and assist. The lord needs me here, Jesus thought, nodding to himself and chanting back, amen. "Thank you, everyone," he said. "I sincerely appreciate you coming here to worship with me, and I hope you all have a blessed Sunday." The smooth, southern Texas accent in his words made his sincerity shine though. "If you would like to chat with me, I'll be available all day, here or in my office." Truth was, even though he had an office, he rarely spent time there. Since arriving three weeks before, he'd bee focused on unpacking into the small apartment in the back of the church. That and doing handyman's work around the building, improving the paint, fixing up some lights and replacing the computer equipment. Smiling, he shook hands with the first man who approached, "Mr. Marcello," he said, smiling. The portly man was Cuban, nearly fifty and the owner of a small taqueria in the neighborhood. "Good sermon," Marcello said, his accent thick, the r being pronounced in a Spanish accent. "Thank you for everything you've done," he said. "Yes, thank you," Maria said, Marcello's wife. They were diminutive but dressed well, each slightly overweight. Jesus had learned only last week that their thirtieth wedding anniversary was approaching soon. "My pleasure, as always," Jesus said. "If you need anything, my door is always open." Looking around the room and smiling wider, he said, "I can only guess the turn out is your doing," he said. "Marcello, Father John said that we never have a full house here." He looked the older man in the eye, tilting his head down. Gripping Marcello's hand in both of his, he said, "I can't thank you enough for helping to spread the word." "It's not my doing," Marcello replied, smiling warmly up at the younger man. "I think you need to see it from the community's perspective," he said. "Father John wasn't relatable to us," he said. "You are." Marcello shook his head, taking his hand back and looking at the younger man's left hand. "Do you have a girlfriend?" "No," Jesus said, shaking his head sadly. "I did, but, we didn't see eye to eye on somethings," he said, frowning slightly. "Not all pastors marry," he said. "Many do," Marcello said, taking his wife's hand and turning. "I have a niece you should meet," he said. "We'll have you for dinner on Wednesday." When he turned to walk away and saw Father Jesus open his mouth, Maria smiled and Marcello held up his free hand. "No excuses, padre," he said. "Dinner, you need a home cooked meal." "Thank you," Jesus said, "I'll look forward to dinner then." Other members of the congregation came and went, with each conversation making Jesus feel more at home and comfortable. Marcello was right and the attendance was nothing to do with the kind business owner. Surprised at how fortunate he had been with the sermon, Jesus started to hum to himself when the crowd dwindled. In the end, the last of the congregation left and he started to put away the coffee pots and water jugs. The cleaning took almost an hour, sweeping, emptying, washing, drying and putting away all the various containers, plastic cups and trash. By the time he was finished, the church hardwood floors sparkled. Smiling, Jesus turned around and scanned the plain, dark hardwood walls. The smell of the oak benches, lining the floor, and the small raised dais at the end. The pew was solid wood, stained in a light color, with the raised dais covered in a simple, thin gray carpet. Above was a stained glass window, depicting the mother of Jesus with her baby. The sight filled him with peace and when looking at that image, he wondered, would a family ever be his? Frowning, a bit sad over the breakup with his girlfriend, he pushed the thought away and focused on the present. That afternoon, he was going to write notes on his sermon from the day, what worked, what could be improved, and add to his growing database of notes on the congregation. Determined to succeed in building up the church to it's former glory in that neighborhood, he could tell from that morning's attendance things were off to a great start. While wandering in between the wooden pews, clad in his simple white button up shirt and blue jeans, he idly touched the backs of each bench as he walked. Thinking about that stained glass window gave him pause and he wondered, not for the hundredth time since their breakup last month, if he should call or write to Julia. "Excuse me father," a rich, feminine voice said. Thoughts interrupted, Jesus turned around and nearly tripped over his own feet. Putting one foot almost on top of the other, he nearly lost his balance. "Hi," he said. "Call me Jesus, please," he said, extending a hand. Wobbling a bit, he breathed deeper, the white linen shirt molding to his sculpted pecs. Despite the rock solid physique, he was ignorant of the impact it had on women. "I'm Olivia," she said, extending a hand. Standing almost his height was a woman who put any stray thoughts about Julia firmly out of his mind. She was tall, almost five ten with her heels, stacked in ways he dreamed about. Cascades of dark hair flowed around her shoulders, ringlets dangling freely. The tanned expanse of her décolletage was exposed by a tight fitting red t-shirt with a V-neck collar. Dark eyes wide, Jesus could not help looking down to her trim waist, the tight, white skirt she wore barely covering the firm, round curve of her hips. Tanned legs went on for miles, capped with lacy, white heels. The stiletto backs were thin, white lines that propped up her heel four inches off the floor. "Ahem," Olivia said, smiling. Her cheeks showed dimples and Jesus looked up, his eyes growing wide when he realized what he had been doing. Blushing red, the color changing his tanned cheeks towards a darker hue, Jesus cleared his throat and found his voice. "How can I help?" "I'm here for confession," Olivia said, her long, slim fingers twining together as she wrung her hands. Over her left shoulder was a small purse, the white leather fabric matching her shorts and shoes. She gestured with one manicured hand, "Where's the booth?" "Sorry," Jesus said, feeling disappointed, "This is a non denominational church," he said. "Confession is a Catholic church idea, not a Christian one," he said, baritone growing more confidence. On familiar, safe ground, he continued, "We can chat in my office," he said, gesturing with his left hand. "It's right this way, and private." Olivia hesitated, chewing her lower lip. Her full lips were red and glistening, from lip gloss or lipstick, Jesus could not tell. She had wide, dark eyes with long lashes. A heart shaped face made him recall to mind Julia. The comparison only made him uncomfortable, as Olivia was far more attractive to him. Her shape was suggestive, the outfit she had on only accentuated what spectacular flesh must be hidden underneath. Determined to stay focused and professional, Jesus tried to think of other things than her appearance. The heat in the church was one, which in the afternoon, didn't go away. His armpits started to grow damp from his curiosity and the humid warmth. "Trust me," Jesus said, when he looked back and saw Olivia standing rooted, chewing her lower lip. "I always respect the privacy of people who need help." "Okay," Olivia said, crossing her arms beneath her chest. She looked skeptical and Jesus gave her a larger smile, showing his dimples. Normally, people started to relax with his small town charm but Olivia still seemed agitated. "Lead the way," she said, flipping one hand. The red nail polish on her manicured fingertips seemed freshly done. Jesus could smell her perfume, floral, spicy and intriguing, when he started to breath through his nose. Surprised and slightly aroused, Jesus turned and tried to push the scent out of his mind when he started to walk towards the back wall. On the side, a large oak door had a silver knob, which lead into his office and beyond, into the small one bedroom apartment. There was a separate entrance for the apartment in the back of the building, but normally on Sundays, Jesus never went out from his domicile, instead preferring to exit through the church front doors proper. Opening the door, he felt his confidence increasing once he took in the dimmer light of the office. Stacked with religious texts, biblical references and more, the office was his haven within the building. There, he did his research, pouring over historical texts, learning everything there was about the early church and biblical history. Side by side with that was a collection of fiction that would rival the cannon of any public high school or university. Lining a shelf was the classics of modern business, "Blink," next to, "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People," along with some more obscure texts, such as, "Einstein's Dreams." The office was his haven in between meetings, supporting people and providing general counseling services. The office was where he composed his thoughts, made plans and prayed for the future of his faith as well as his own growing personal concerns. The breakup with Julia had almost cracked the foundation of his faith, of his life. She was nearly everything he dreamed of in a partner, a soul mate. But when her lustful, sinful nature revealed itself, he had shunned her out of reflex. Walking inside the office, he focused on that decision, knowing that the biblical foundation of his faith was solid. Eventually, once he had the current mission in hand, he would try to meet a woman who truly put Christ first, as he did in his own life. The large wooden desk was strewn with books, right now, he was in between a book on the history of innovation and a guidebook to the highs and lows of Miami. The few weeks he'd been able to stroll the neighborhood were interesting but he craved more. But, without a car, he was for the moment, stuck in his office, studying and learning. In that, the environment reminded him of the best college, so it was not a big sacrifice to focus on his most urgent priorities. The heat bothered him with the door closed for privacy, but he reminded himself that the curtailing of the AC unit had been an important step. Striding to the back of the desk, he ignored the books and glanced briefly at his Powerbook Mac computer. The screensaver showed the machine was on, but idle, and he gestured to the plush leather chair opposite his before taking his own seat. Olivia stood for a moment, staring at the walls, the sheer number of books, dark brows furrowed. Steepling his fingers, Jesus was glad that the desk hid his growing arousal. Despite the refuge and sanctity of the place, being able to hide the visual sign of his sinful, stray thoughts gave him confidence. Knowing that Olivia could not see his erection beneath the desk, he shifted in his seat. Jesus almost groaned, enjoying the brief, depraved sensation of his jeans rubbing his engorged member. "Do you read much?" He asked finally, when she stood there, tapping one heeled foot, content to scan the massive selection of titles lining the shelves. "I'm trying to learn more about Miami," he said, gesturing to the book on his desk. "But, that's not why we're here today," he said, shaking his head. Heart starting to beat faster, his baritone stayed smooth, despite his growing interest in Olivia's incredible body. The heat in the office only intensified his interest, with his armpits starting to sweat. "Sometimes," she said, looking through the titles and finding very little of interest. "The Catholic church calls this a rectory," she said, smiling. The twist of her lips and arch of a single, manicured brow made the phrase seem unholy, "Is that your church's tradition as well?" Her lightly tanned skin started to show a slight sheen of sweat on her brow, which Jesus noticed, and licked his lips. "No," Jesus said, barely able to meet her eyes. When she was scanning the shelf, his gaze had started to fixate on the tight, white skirt she wore. Wondering if her tan was complete or only on the parts of her body exposed to the sun, he'd started to wander off in his own mind. Coming back to present, he stared into her dark brown eyes and forced himself to respond intelligently. "This is my office," he said, smiling slightly. "We don't have a rectory here," he said. Olivia turned and faced him, her body square to his. Shoulder's tossed back, she fiddled with her purse and licked her lips. "Pity," she said, running a hand through her luxurious locks. "I guess this will have to do," she said, giving him a tight, brief smile. "This is all confidential, right?" The bright sheen of her face in the hot, humid office brought to mind far too many ideas for Jesus, and he could not help but stare for a moment at her heart shaped face. "Of course," he said, lifting his hands from his lap and spreading them wide. "I hold the secrets and confessions of my flock sacred, and do not judge, for that is the job of one who is perfect, and I am not." He smiled wider, setting his hands down on the table and grabbing a pen. "I'm here to listen and provide guidance, based on scripture," he said, "For the bible provides an answer to all of our questions." After giving the brief speech, which he had shared dozens of times, he added a mental prayer, lord, forgive me for my depraved thoughts. Smirking, Olivia paused with her hands on the back of the black office chair. She wheeled it back, then twisted the seat to sit. Sitting down, she immediately put her feet down and kicked, causing the top of the chair to spin. "Whee," she said, spinning around several revolutions before halting. "Awesome chairs," she said, "I have to use a pole to do that at work." "Excuse me?" Jesus asked, totally lost and staring at her while she spun. The youthful, vibrant enthusiasm was fascinating, even though she was clearly a few years his senior. She smirked and kicked her feet against the floor again, spinning the chair around faster. Leaning her head back, she appeared lost in the moment, enjoying the gravity and sensation of whirling round. When she spun, her legs started to spread wider. The tanned, smooth lengths parted and Jesus tried not to stare in between. The white mini skirt rucked up slightly and his breath quickened, thinking he could just see her panty clad center. "A pole," she said, knowing what caught his attention, "I use a pole to spin around at work." She spoke while the chair revolved and Jesus was having a terrible time focusing. None of the parishioners who chatted with him so far had been so scantily clad. Or attractive, he thought, trying to ignore the slow swelling of his manhood. "I'm a stripper," she said, still spinning. "A stripper," Jesus repeated, swallowing hard, trying to work some moisture back into his mouth. None of his friends had gotten married yet, so he had never had the opportunity to see a stripper in person. Even if invited, he would have declined on morale grounds, but watching Olivia, he started to wonder if he was wrong. Some friends had been to strip clubs in college, but with his girlfriend and school, Jesus was always too uptight to even think about going. Now, watching the busty, gorgeous woman in front of him spin around on his office chair, telling him that she became even more scantily clad in front of strangers, his mind reeled. Praying inside his own head, he thought to himself, dear lord, grant me your strength to do the right thing. Aloud, he exhaled slow then lifted his glance to the woman's forehead, fixating on her slowing form as the chair finally stopped spinning. "God loves us all, remember it's okay to hate the sin, but, we must always remember to love the sinner, as we love anybody else." The words came out by rote, even as he tried to focus his attention away from her hourglass shaped body. Stomping on the floor, Olivia halted the chair and stared into his brown eyes, her chest heaving slightly. On her tanned cleavage, there was a light sheen of sweat, making her brown skin glow in the fluorescent office light. The red, tight cotton shirt she wore seemed to fit closer to her bust. Chest heaving, he saw a few small beads of sweat form around her chest from the rising temperature. Gulping, he wished desperately that the church could afford air conditioning. But, doing the right thing meant turning it off when he took over, a decision he now regretted. A July afternoon in a closed space, and the need for privacy, meant that he was starting to sweat more. Licking his lips, he forgot for a moment everything else in his head other than her sweet, sweaty chest. Lips dry, he remembered his manners. "Water!" He said, slapping his hand on the desk. "Would you like some water?" Sweet Jesus: Confessional "Sure," Olivia said, quirking an eyebrow and leaning back in the chair. She crossed her legs and a smile twisted the corners of her mouth. "Please." Jesus stood abruptly, without thinking, and pushed his chair back out of the way. It rolled behind him as he stood, the full staff of his manhood straining against the front of his jeans. He could feel the throbbing need of his loins strain against his pants but tried to ignore the feeling. Breathing slow, he tried to pretend that his erection was not there when he turned and exited the rear office door. The exit led to his apartment, and after a few minutes, he had two glasses of water filled from the tap. Returning to the office, he thought of her use of the word, rectory, and remembered that she was catholic. He was unfamiliar with how confession worked, but he knew he could keep her secrets. Praying for forgiveness for his stray thoughts, he almost had himself under control when he returned and set the glasses down onto his desk. Setting them down, he took a seat, deliberately focused on keeping his head facing the ground when he grabbed the chair. Seated again, he faced Olivia, who was staring at him, amused. Her left hand was draped over a crossed leg, and her face held a bemused expression. As if she just heard the punchline of a joke. Not sure what the joke was, Jesus sought refuge in what he knew best, scripture. Telling himself he knew what to do, he took a deep breath and then started to ask her why she was there. "I wanted to go to confession," Olivia said, "But, this isn't a catholic church, and it's been," she said, trailing off after a moment. "Well, it's been so long since my last confession, I think it was high school," she said. "But when I was dealing with something I could not handle on my own, the last time I had a trip to confession, it did wonders for me," she said. "So, I was hoping that I could confide in you, and ask for guidance." "Olivia," Jesus said, spreading his hands wide and then dropping them to his lap. He stroked his goatee after a moment with one hand, tilting his head while he looked at her. "Whatever you tell me is confidential, of course," he said. "I can provide you the best guidance possible, from the lord himself," he said. Leaning forward, he grabbed his glass and took a small sip. "A burden, once shared, is half as heavy," he said, smiling and setting the glass down. "Tell me." "Well," she said, leaning forward and grabbing the glass he filled for her. She paused, her hand on the desk, looking down as if she lost something. The moment allowed Jesus the time to risk looking down her shirt, admiring the full, tanned bosoms he saw. Breathing heavier, he prayed for strength inside his head, before wrenching his gaze up to her forehead for the umpteenth time. She pretended not to notice, then picked up her water glass and brought it to her lips. "I need to confess something," she said, "I hope that's okay." "Please, share," he said, smiling. With one hand, he stroked his goatee, smiling wider and showing his even, white teeth. "We're all sinners, but through confessing our sins and accepting Jesus as lord, we will be saved." The irony of his words and name was not lost on Olivia, who chuckled. Jesus chuckled briefly, too, understanding the woman's obvious tension and letting himself relax. Her appearance was enough to drive him to distraction, but, knowing that she was as flawed as any normal person made him feel better. He waved her to continue after their shared humor, and felt much better inside. The tension drained from him, even as his armpits sweated more heavily, his dress shirt showing marks on both sides of his muscular chest. "Well," Olivia said, kicking one leg, "It all started when I got my new job at the Eager Beaver," she said. "I'd never been around so many naked women before." "What?" Jesus asked, startled. The thought of her eager beaver and naked women drove any pure thoughts right out of his head. With that one sentence, his erection sprang back full force, straining against his jeans. "I'm a dancer at the Eager Beaver," she said, "A strip club." She said the words clearly, crisply, enunciating each word with extra care. Watching the young pastor's reaction gave her a thrill even bigger than her boldest lap dance. Curious if she could keep him going, she leaned forward. "I dance naked, sometimes. Mostly men, but some women, throw money at me," she said, staring at the young pastor's dark brown eyes. She admired his looks, his charm, and his seeming naiveté. Sure that it was a facade, she had yet to see him crack, despite getting hot under the collar. Intrigued, she had never met a man so innocent, so she continued doing her best to bring out his desire. "Okay," Jesus said, at a loss for words. When she said that men, and women, paid her to dance, he nearly lost control. Throbbing and frustrated, he prayed for forgiveness for what he was about to do after kicking Olivia out of his office. Thinking of nothing more than pulling his pants down and furiously pleasuring himself, Jesus tried to calm down for a moment to give her some parting words. Something appropriate, but final. God forgive me, he thought, for what I'm about to do. "Jesus loves you," he said, "No matter what." He paused, watching as she started to kick her leg into circles as she sat there, watching him. Raising his gaze, he saw that her nipples were outlined clearly in the red shirt. Erection driving almost any logical thought out of his head, he drew a deep breath and tried to give her something meaningful. "Read the bible," he said, waving towards the far door. "Stop by again if you need more advice." "That's it?" Olivia snorted, still kicking her leg. She had not bothered getting up from her chair, instead, enjoying the flushed face of the pastor across the desk. From his expression, she thought he might pop at any moment, so frustrated he looked. "The best you can do is tell me, 'god loves me,' and stop by again?" She was enjoying this and also was feeling unsatisfied herself, having committed to getting a religious perspective on her dilemma. Without properly explaining herself, she knew that she could not leave satisfied. "Sorry," Jesus said, struggling to contain his arousal, "Please, if you want to tell me more, I'm here for you." Squirming in his chair, he looked anything but, 'there for her,' but she was sufficiently pleased that she nodded. When he squirmed, the tight cotton underwear and grew damp inside, from his sweat and arousal. "When I started dancing, there was this woman, Lidia," she said, kicking her foot and loving the feeling. Face flushed, she enjoyed every moment, watching the handsome pastor's obvious desire grow stronger. "At first, I just admired her blonde hair," she said, running a hand through her own. "Then later, I decided it must be her lips," she said, caressing her red lips with a finger. "They were this luscious, full, pink color," she said, "All I could do was think about biting them." Sticking her lacquered finger into her mouth, she bit the tip, looking up at Jesus through her long, black lashes. "So?" "So," Olivia said, "I realized later, it must be her pale, creamy skin," she said. "Her breasts were pert, full," she said, licking her lips and breathing hard, "When I saw her the first time, with her top off, and saw the pink, petite nipples that topped her creamy breasts, I knew." She paused, breathing harder, deeper, her cheeks flushed and forehead glistening in the afternoon humidity. "Knew what?" Jesus asked, enthralled and breathing hard. His legs spread involuntarily in his black leather chair, trying to adjust his swollen rod to a more comfortable position. As it was, he shifted and felt the slick tip sliding along his jeans on the inside, nearly moaning with the pleasurable sensation it sent though his body. With such a beautiful woman in front of him, the tight, inflexible confines of his jeans, he was on the brink of committing sin in his pants. "That I enjoyed seeing her," Olivia said, "And wanted to do more than see her." She paused, licking her lips and staring at the pastor's flushed face, "Are you okay, Jesus?" "I'm fine," he said, balls starting to hurt along with his swollen manhood. "Needed some water, that's all," he said, trying to convey a confidence he did not feel. In his head, he asked the lord for forgiveness for what he was about to do a hundred times, firmly believing that she would leave at any moment. When she left, he knew he would bring himself to the climax he could feel in the back of his mind, just from listening to Olivia's twisted tale of unholy lust. "Please, continue, if you wish," he said, swallowing another sip of water. His voice was strained, the baritone uneven. "Confession is good for the soul," he said. Olivia lifted her own water glass and took another small sip, then dabbled her fingertips into the glass. "Okay," she said, pressing her lacquered nails into her chest, then sliding her index finger up the side of her neck. The water was cool against her skin and felt divine in the hot office. "Last night," she said, swallowing hard, "I was going to dance the last shift of the night," she said, "When Lidia left the stage, I was feeling frisky, and setup a prank for her." She paused and then blurted, "It didn't go as planned at all. Lidia freaked out, I was pissed, and when she was about to scream, I couldn't think of anything else to do to keep her quiet." Licking her lips, Olivia took a sip of water before continuing. "She opened her mouth wide to scream, we were backstage and I worried what it would do to my job, so, I did the only thing I could," Olivia said, kicking her right top leg around in a bigger circle. "I kissed her," she said, cheeks coloring, "When her mouth was open, I freaked out and could not bring myself to smack her silly," she said. "Most women, I would have hit, but, not Lidia," she said. "All I could think was that, if it was me, and Lidia kissed me full on without warning, when I was emotionally unstable and about to lose control," she said, shuddering in her seat. "I just know that, if it was reversed, I'd have been too surprised to scream." Blinking slowly, Jesus took a long sip of his water before trusting himself to say anything. Olivia kissed another woman, arguably to save her job, and was feeling guilty about it, as if she was a sinner? His manhood bulged and strained against his pants, and he knew that there was no way, in her heart, she was a sinner. Throbbing and desperate for relief, he gave a decisive nod and cleared his throat. "It's totally okay," he said, shifting uncomfortably when he saw her smile grow wider. "You were worried about your job," he said, waving his hand in dismissal. "Nothing more, and in this economy, understandable." He paused and shifted, awkward in the extreme and hoping one more line would prompt her to leave, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," he quoted, nodding firmly. "Pleasure meeting you, Olivia," he said, waving his hand towards the door. "I hope you'll join us for service next week," he said. "Is it really okay?" She had not rose from her seat, enjoying the flushed face and bulging eyes of the young pastor. His handsome face was flushed, his red lips slick from his licking. Olivia knew men and Jesus was about to completely lose it, whether or not he got his hands into his own pants. She wanted to see if she could push him over the edge and couldn't help continuing the story. "It's not like Lidia let up when I started kissing her," she said, kicking her leg still. The motion gave her a sweet thrill up her most sensitive parts, and it helped to satisfy her while she shared with the pastor. "Oh, no. Lidia was too demanding to stop with just a kiss." Jesus was familiar with lesbians, and the idea of two women pleasing each other. He'd even seen a few clips on the internet, and browsed, the lord forgive him, more than a few pictures. However, he had never in his twenty-three years head of somebody he knew having such thoughts. Truth be told, the only woman he had ever known well besides his mother had been Julia, who was as straight laced as they could be. Of course, he knew that their breakup was due in large part to his physical hang-ups, but, they had never discussed in any detail her sexual preferences. For that matter, he had never dwelt on his own fetishes, only dreaming about women in missionary position and once, doggy-style, when he was drunk. For the most part, his fantasies were plain vanilla. Sitting there with Olivia across from him, a freakish, crazy situation straight out of a friend's wildest claims, was something he was not equipped to deal with properly. Her presence ignited his desire, as it would with anybody who liked attractive women. Then, her story, so outlandish and deviant, stoked his fires like nothing this side of Hades should have been able to do. Listening to her opening lines, thinking about Olivia's seductive, cherry lips, locked into a passionate embrace, Jesus struggled to maintain his composure. In his mind, unbidden, rose the image of Olivia tongue kissing his beloved Julia. Worse still, Olivia was beckoning him to join them, while Julia ignored him, instead, focusing on pleasuring the black haired Latina. With effort, Jesus focused on the present, asking a simple question, "If Lidia was too demanding to stop with a kiss, what did she do to you?" Purposefully, he posited that Olivia was the victim of Lidia's crazy lust. By phrasing the situation thus, Jesus avoided any messy complications with regard to Olivia's own sexual preference. Regardless of his phrasing, he squirmed in his seat, determined to find out what happened before bidding the woman a good day. "What do you think she did to me?" Olivia asked, kicking her leg in a wider circle, smiling at the pastor. She felt hot, sexy and desirable, watching him squirm. The feelings of last night, of the passionate embrace of Lidia, were still there, but seeing the sexy pastor react so strongly to her words, she started to wonder. She could see his reaction, stunned, speechless, that she'd hit a nerve. "You said she wouldn't stop there," Jesus said, unable to say anything else. Manhood straining, he knew the truth of things, that Olivia was begging for a confession. Worse, he knew that she had done things, dirty things, that he had never contemplated. However, knowing that she needed his help, the spiritual guidance he could provide, he felt some confidence return, despite his raging lust. Even though his manhood was fully swollen, twitching against his knees, his faith never wavered. "Tell me everything," he begged, breathing hard. Thinking of what Olivia had told him so far, he knew that the listening a tale of her sins would test his faith. "She took advantage," Olivia said, relishing the chance to draw out the story. "I was only trying to quiet her," she said. "Instead, she mistook my kiss for something more, and started to kiss me, everywhere," she said. "What do you mean, child?" Jesus asked, using the term to attempt to regain some of the authority in the discussion. "Lidia licked me," Olivia said, drawing out each word, "Until I could take no more." She paused, shuddering and twitching in her seat, remembering the feeling. Full of control, domination and expertise, it had been an eye opening experience. "I'm afraid," she said. "What does this mean?" She watched his face turned red at the word, licked, and could not help her own reaction. Kicking her legs more frantically, nipples straining against her shirt, the handsome pastor had an undeniable effect on her. Hot, bothered and worried, she was tempted to take her shirt off, but barely resisted the impulse. Barely able to sit still, Jesus tried to piece together a rational response to the seductive woman's tale. There was enough that was beyond his imagination that the story had a simple, profound effect on his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he could not help but imagine the busty, dark haired woman before him in the throes of passion. Perhaps he could be the one who made her feel that way, however, from their conversation thus far, it seemed unlikely. Thinking of the woman, who sounded like his ex girlfriend, that had driven Olivia to the breaking point made him twitch even more in his seat. Jesus could see her own ardor mounting from telling him the story and in response, he felt his manhood jump. Breathing through his nose, he fought for control, lord, help me. "What do you mean, 'she licked you?'" Jesus said, heart pounding. Imagination started to run wild when the woman started to cris-cross her legs and kick them. Olivia's faced was flushed and her perky chest betrayed her thoughts. Praying in his head constantly to no avail, his mind went where it had never gone before. The tanned woman's skin was flushed, his office over ninety degrees, he started to pray for a miracle. That time of day he preferred to be out, but for privacy, they had the door closed. Face flushed, Olivia licked her lips and resumed kicking her leg in a slow circle, the white mini skirt scandalously high on her thighs. "After we kissed," Olivia said, "Since Lidia's top was already off," she said, "She ripped my bra off, exposing my breasts." She traced one hand down her v-neck shirt and almost, but not quiet, ran her finger tips over the sensitive, swollen nubs of her nipples. Straining inside her shirt, she was enjoying the slow telling of her sins. Watching the handsome pastor squirm added to her enjoyment. "Before she started to kiss me again, she moved her head down, flicking my nipples." "Okay," Jesus said, the image nearly making him spurt off inside his pants. Watching the sexy woman tell him the sordid, dirty story was making his head spin. Wondering if Olivia's nipples were as large as his former girlfriends, or smaller, like he'd seen on the internet, his thoughts strayed far from his biblical mental safety net. Throbbing and nearly having a climax inside his jeans, he grabbed his water glass and took a long drink. "You've learned your lesson," he said, "Don't surprise a co-worker again," he said, nodding his head with finality. "See you next week," he said, not bothering to get up. "What's wrong with you, Jesus?" Olivia asked, tilting her head to the side and frowning. "Maybe I should have gone to another church," she said, getting up from her chair and turning to the side. "Thanks," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Red lips curled into a stern frown as she gave him a final glance and then started walking towards the door. "Jesus loves you," he said, watching her leave and staring at her mini skirt clad bottom. I want you, he thought, watching her and starting to feel himself through his jeans. Hands covered by the desk, even if she turned, his slow stroking would be hidden from her vantage point. Not sure if she was leaving because she was pissed or not, he no longer cared. When Olivia's hand reached the door knob and her heels stopped clacking on the floor, he hastily unbuckled his brown leather belt. "I know," Olivia said, turning back and giving him a sly smile before throwing the door open wider. She saw him squirming in his seat and almost giggled. While he was incredibly handsome, he was too flustered and nervous to bother chatting with anymore. With both his hands in his lap, she suspected what he was up to and her smirk grew wider. Besides, telling him the story of what happened the previous night had made her re-think the whole confession issue. Thinking about how thoroughly Lidia had kissed her breasts and made her feel alive, erotic and wonderfully tingly, she thought about calling the other dancer to see if she was busy that afternoon. Clicking her heels on the floor, she pulled the door closed behind her and almost closed it, when she noticed Jesus standing up slightly behind the chair. Sweet Jesus: Confessional Curious, she left the door open a crack and clicked her heels on the floor, one then the other. Making it sound like she was strolling away from the office, she watched through the cracked door as Jesus pushed himself back from the desk. His wheeled chair moved him far enough she could see that his blue jeans were now pulled down around his ankles. Face flushed, the pastor pulled his underwear down, straining to get the elastic band over his massive girth. Surprised at his size, Olivia watched his circumcised head spring up, coming almost to his belly button. Wow, she thought, unable to help herself. He's huge. Wrapping one hand around his shaft, the pastor slowly stroked his tanned skin for a moment. Dripping a small trail of saliva down to the head, he used his left hand to rub the liquid around the cock head. Glistening in the dim light, she could see that his cock was leaking pre-cum. Strong, tan hands started to toy with his rod, while Jesus leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling. This can't be right, Olivia thought, watching. He's not going to finish himself at his desk. However, Jesus was only thinking of finishing himself as fast as possible. With his jeans around his ankles, and his tight white underwear keeping his ankles together, he spread his knees as far apart as possible in the chair. Thick length slick with his saliva and excitement, he started to jump the shaft with his right hand. Using his left to rub the tip, he moaned. "Father forgive me," while starting to pump the shaft faster. In his head, the image of Olivia, seated across from him, perky nipples sticking out, kept flashing through his mind. The more excited he got, he pumped harder, imagining her clothes off, the light brown nipples exposed to his hungry gaze. The one time he'd seen Julia's nipples, he had denied the urges of his own body, and hers. That was the last time he'd done anything with a woman, or been that close to a sexy, hot woman who clearly had sin on her mind. With the vivid story she'd told him, and the details he could only imagine, his climax was only minutes away from blasting off. Pumping his shaft, he squeezed his cock harder with his hand, making the skin slide more wetly up and down the purple tip. Smearing his saliva and the increasing pre-cum oozing from his tip around the head, his hands were both growing slick with his lustful juices. Fantasizing about Olivia's perky breasts and how much he wanted to squeeze, to lick them was drove him towards the brink. Watching him from just outside his office, Olivia was enthralled with the performance. The pastor was seated, spreading his knees as wide as they would go, pumping and thrusting his hips into the air. The muscles of his thighs bulged, and she admired his physique. Too bad he was so shy, she thought, tilting her head to consider him. Jesus was a nice man, at least, from what she'd heard before showing up at the church. She had not expected him to be so young, perhaps a year or two younger than her. The experience from last night surprised her and made her feel dirty. However, seeing the pastor stroking himself off in his office, after hearing her experience, was even more naughty than anything she expected to have happen. Breathing hard, Jesus gripped himself firmly with his right hand and started to stroke himself slower, savoring the sensation. Lord, forgive me my sins, he prayed. Balls clenching, his climax moments away, he stopped touching himself with sheer willpower. Cheeks flushed, he unbuttoned his shirt quickly. The white button up was soon tossed onto his desk, and he used his heels to move the chair closer. Relaxing for a moment, he leaned back in the chair, his left hand slowly rubbing the slick tip. Excitement throbbing through his veins, he thought about Olivia's busty, perky breasts. Stroke, his hand started to grip and slide the skin of his massive rod. Her white mini skirt, framing the most perky, well rounded bottom he'd ever seen. Stroke. Caught up in a lustful embrace with the other stripper, naked. Stroke. Olivia's smirk, when she turned to leave, turning to a flushed expression of passion. Stroke. Lord, please forgive me, he thought, balls clenching. Face sweating and red, Jesus's muscular chest was clean shaven and dripping sweat. Olivia had never seen such a handsome man, caught in the throes of passion, focused only on his own pleasure. The sight was erotic and dirty, even more bizarre than her experience last night. Nipples straining against her shirt, she licked her lips when he started to sweat even more, muscular body glowing in the office. Almost, she said something. Pressing her thighs together, she felt her arousal growing by the second. She could see the red and purple veins standing out in his thick rod, his staff clenched tight in one smooth, light brown hand. Moving his fist up and down, she could tell that his climax was fast approaching. Tanned skin glowing, Jesus looked radiant, half naked, his face turning red. "Oh GOD!" Jesus exclaimed. Bucking his hips, with one last mighty stroke, he exploded in a sinful release. In his mind's eye, Olivia's face was tilted back, her red lips glistening, shouting her own pleasure. Cock twitching, he sprayed the first of his seed over the white shirt, onto his desk. Spurting wildly, the rest of his powerful climax ejaculated onto his dress shirt, leaving a sticky, white trail that blended in with the cotton fabric. Rod in hand, he tried to direct his spray to the shirt and the last few spurts soaked through his fingers. Short of breath, he pumped himself through the orgasm, white fluids making his hand sticky. Climax finished but unaware who was watching, he sank back into the chair and prayed, forgive me. Satisfied but frustrated at his lack of willpower, Jesus told himself, this will never happen again. Olivia saw him sink back into the chair and close his eyes, then carefully crept towards the church entrance. Walking softly, the image of the handsome young pastor climaxing in mind, she knew that when she arrived home, a long, hot bath was in order. And her favorite toy, while she thought about the young pastor.