Page 91 of Sinner (Priest 2)
It takes me less than a minute to source a mostly full bottle of vegetable oil—I’m very motivated—and then I’m covering Zenny’s body once again with my own. “Are you sure about this?” I say, kissing her ear. “Very, very sure?”
“Very, very,” she says impatiently. “Why is it when I want to speed up, you want to slow down—and then when I want to slow down, you want to speed up?”
I’m straightening now and unscrewing the bottle cap. “When has that last ever happened?” I ask, amused. “You’ve never wanted to slow down a minute in your life.”
“Not with sex. But with…other things. Feelings.” She stops, as if hesitant to say more.
The furrowed-out space in my chest aches with her implied meaning, aches more at the thought of telling her I love her. Would it be wrong to? If she has just said she wants to slow down with the feelings?
This is not ass-talk, I decide. Ass first. Orgasms for Zenny first. Then we talk.
“I’m just rubbing oil on you now,” I explain to the little nun in front of me, shoving my feelings to the side and focusing on her. Her pleasure. “I’m not going to press inside just yet.”
“Okay,” she says, and then hums a little as my finger brushes against the sensitive pleats, spreading oil warm and plenty over her.
“Now inside. Just like the plug, baby, you’ll push against me.” And then I gently, as gently as it can be done, work my finger inside the tight aperture. Inside, she is a furnace. A fucking furnace. A snug ring of muscle and a smooth sheath of heat behind it. My blood goes on fire, all at once, burning me up from the inside.
“Okay, this part you’ll help me with,” I say, taking one of her hands and g
uiding it to where my finger is burrowed inside her. “You’re going to replace my finger with yours…and then add a second one as soon as you’re comfortable. Yes?”
“Yes,” she says eagerly, already pushing at my hand to replace it. I let her, drizzling some more oil for her, and then while she fingers her own ass, I quickly toe off my shoes and tear off my jeans and shirt. She adds a third finger without me telling her to, and I abruptly lose the ability to breathe.
“Jesus,” I mutter, liberally glazing my palm with oil and wasting no time fucking my oiled-up hand as I watch her. “Jesus Christ.”
I step closer, the view impossibly intimate, impossibly carnal, and then I run my hands all over her ass and flanks. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”
“Ready,” she sighs out, withdrawing her fingers with a noise that would make God Himself sympathize with all my decisions. I move myself behind her as she braces herself on the edge of the sink, and I feel her shiver when the broad head of my dick nudges against her rim. It’s much, much bigger than anything she’s taken before, and I run a soothing hand up and down her back.
“Relax and push out against me. Think of how full you’re going to feel. What a dirty girl you’re going to be with my cock in your ass, hmm?”
My words have the desired effect, dispelling her apprehension, and then when I reach around to massage her clit, she melts even more, humming her tuneless happy hum once again.
And so I begin.
I forge ahead slowly, tenderly, letting her find her breath when she needs it and giving her a much-needed break after my head pops past her first ring of muscle. I don’t pull out, but neither do I keep cramming in—I wait and let her breathe around the huge invasion, playing with her clit as I do.
Gradually, inevitably, the discomfort becomes something more complicated, the more complicated thing then in turn becomes a new kind of pleasure. I wait until I see this transformation ripple through her body, until her limbs go from a taut wariness to seeking me out. A hand reaches back for me, her feet part and open up her ass even wider, and most tellingly, her hips move back against me; she’s ready for more.
I impale her with care and love. I pierce her with affection and attention. I stretch and invade and stroke into her with every iota of emotion I’ve ever had for this girl—protectiveness and love and amusement and respect—it seeps into everything, and when I finally have her stretching around the base of me, I am barely holding it together. Trembling, sweating, my vision going dim around the edges.
“How are you?” I manage to say through the pleasure-fugue. “How are you doing?”
“I’m—” She’s shivering too, covered in a thin layer of sweat, and I can hear her pounding heartbeat in the threadiness of her voice. “I’m good. Strange. But good.”
“I’m going to move now,” I say in a hoarse voice. “I’m going to fuck you.”
“Yes, please, I—” I’ve started massaging her clit in earnest now and her words fall away into a moan. I slide carefully out, all the way to the tip, and then slide back in.
There are no words for it.
There are no words.
And I’m going to come embarrassingly fast.
“I’ve never been bare with a woman,” I mumble, my eyes glued to where my cock powers in and out of her. My naked cock, and fuck, if I’d known how good a naked cock could feel inside a woman, I don’t know that I would have been such a saint about wearing a condom. It’s slicker, just more, and her ass is the tightest, hottest fucking tunnel, and knowing that when I come it will touch her, it will be inside her—
No, I can’t do that, I promised, I promised—
