Father Thomas cleared his throat, shifting in the dimly lit confessional. The worn velvet of his vestments brushed against the cold, wooden panel separating him from his next confessor. The murmur of the congregation outside the church drifted in, a gentle reminder of his duty. He had been a priest for barely a year, and this was his first assignment in the wealthy suburbs of Eastbridge. The parish was large and well-funded, but he felt a bit out of place among the manicured lawns and luxurious homes. Yet, he was determined to serve with the same dedication and compassion he had in his previous, more modest parish.

The door creaked open, and a soft, hesitant voice spoke. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been... three weeks since my last confession."

"Go on, my child," Father Thomas encouraged, recognizing the voice as Mrs. Castellanos, an attractive middle-aged woman who attended mass every Sunday with her husband and two children. She was known for her generous donations and her involvement in the church community. He had also noticed she tread that line of looking like a pious Christian wife, yet using her body to draw attention from men. While he was committed to chaste thoughts, he had certainly noticed her. She made sure of that.

Mrs. Castellanos took a deep breath. "Father, I... I have been struggling with... with a temptation that I cannot seem to resist."

Father Thomas leaned his ear in slightly toward the screen, his heart rate ticking up. The gravity in her voice suggested something more than the usual confessions of gossip or minor deceits. "Tell me, what is it that's been troubling you?"

Her words flowed out in a whisper, "I have been... I've been committing a sin of the flesh."

The priest's stomach knotted. This was the kind of confession that tested his training. "Can you elaborate, my child?"

Her voice grew softer, almost inaudible. "It's... it's masturbation, Father. I can't seem to stop."

Father Thomas paused, surprised by her candor. He had heard confessions of lust before, but the directness of her confession was something new. He chose his words carefully. "It's a common struggle, my child. But God is merciful, and He will help you overcome this."

Against his wishes, Father Thomas could feel his cock growing, straining against the fabric of his cassock. The image of Mrs. Castellanos, her dark hair and piercing eyes, flashed through his mind. He had noticed her before, of course; she was an attractive woman and wanted to be noticed, even though she was twice his age. He tried to focus on his duty, on the sacredness of the confessional, but the arousal was there, unbidden and persistent.

"How often does this happen, my child?" he asked, his voice steady despite the tumult within.

Mrs. Castellanos's cheeks flushed, even though he wasn't through the screen. "More than I care to admit, Father. At least once a day."

The priest felt a bead of sweat form on his brow. He gulped deeply before asking "And where does this... act take place?"

Her response was quick, almost eager. "In my bedroom, mostly. Sometimes in the bathroom, when I shower."

Father Thomas swallowed hard. He didn't want to go down this path, but the devil whispered in his ear, urging him on. "Does your husband know of this?"

Her silence was telling. "No, Father. I'm afraid he doesn't. I think he would be angry. And he's... not as attentive as he used to be."

The confessional felt like it was closing in on him. He had to find a way to regain control, to remember his vows and his duty to guide her through this. He took a deep breath, willing his erection to subside.

"It's important to remember that we are all human and prone to temptation. However, we must also strive to overcome these desires and find peace in God's grace. Have you tried praying for strength?"

Her voice grew smaller, more vulnerable. "I have, Father. But it's not enough."

Father Thomas leaned closer, his voice filled with a mix of compassion and curiosity. "What do you find yourself thinking about during these moments of weakness?"

"I... I think about younger men, Father. The way they look at me, the way they might... want me."

The priest's cock throbbed, and he realized with a start that he was one of those younger men. He could feel the heat of her gaze on him every Sunday, though he had dismissed it as his own guilty imagination.

"So these are real people in your life that you have these thoughts about? Do they know?"

"No, Father, they don't. It's just... I see them and I can't help but wonder what it would be like. And when I am talking with them, even about the most innocent of topics, I start to wonder if my body excites them. I want to be wanted that way. I know it is wrong."

Father Thomas felt his own resolve wavering. He had certainly noticed her body. She had large, enhanced breasts and always seemed to have one or two more buttons open than she should have.

He took a moment to compose himself before speaking again. "It's natural for humans to have these thoughts, but it's how we choose to act upon them that truly matters. Have you considered speaking with your husband about this, or seeking counsel from someone outside the church?"

Mrs. Castellanos' voice was tight with frustration. "I've tried, Father. But he doesn't understand. He's busy with his work, and when he does pay attention to me, it's just... it's not what I need."

The priest felt a pang of pity for her, and his desire grew stronger. He was a man of God, but also a man with desires. The line between his spiritual duty and his carnality was blurring, and he struggled to find the right words to say.

"Do any of these men notice your need for attention from them?"

Mrs. Castellanos sighed heavily. "I'm not sure. I've caught my husband's boss looking at me a few times, but he's always so professional. And at church, some of the younger men, they... they seem to appreciate me in a way that makes me feel seen, but I dare not let my thoughts wander too far."

Her words painted a picture that Father Thomas could not unsee: her standing in the pew, her full breasts pushing against the fabric of her blouse as she sang hymns with passion, the way her hips swayed as she walked down the aisle. The image was almost too much to bear. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for his cock, which was now fully erect and pressing against his leg.

The confessional was now thick with tension. Father Thomas knew he should offer her guidance, but the heat between them was undeniable. He had to fight the urge to rip the screen away and take her in his arms, to give her the attention she so desperately craved.

"When you say they look at you, clarify for me,  my child, what do you mean?"

Her voice grew even softer, "The way a man looks at a woman, Father. It's like... hunger in their eyes. They see me, not just as a wife or a mother, but as a woman."

"I see them look... at my breasts. It's wrong.. but it still makes me feel warm, everywhere."

Father Thomas's struggle grew more intense. He had never felt this way in the confessional before. He had never felt his vows being tested like this. He tried to remember his place, his promise to God, but the image of Mrs. Castellanos's full breasts was burned into his mind.

"It is important, my child, that you do not act on these desires. They are temptations from the devil, meant to lead you away from the path of righteousness. You must find strength in prayer and in the sacrament of marriage."

Father Thomas's hand twitched, his fingers itching to reach out and comfort her. But he knew he must remain steadfast. He took a deep breath, his voice firm despite the ache in his loins. "Lust is a sin, my child. It is a distraction from the divine love we should all strive for."

Mrs. Castellanos' voice grew more insistent, "But what if it's more than just lust, Father? What if it's about feeling desirable again? Like a complete woman."

He paused, wrestling with his own thoughts. "Feeling desired is not inherently wrong, but we must channel those feelings in a way that honors our commitments and our faith. It is the act of adultery that is the sin, not the feeling of temptation."

"Then knowing a man desires me and feeling the surge of arousal is not the sin, Father. It is the temptation. It only becomes a sin if I give to that man. Is that what you mean, Father?"

Her question was like a hot poker to his already scalding thoughts. He nodded slightly, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "Yes, my child, that is correct."

"Then Father, it is ok that I feel pleasure from men looking at my body. I am not having sex with them. And... even if it were you that looked at it, it would only be a minor sin."

Father Thomas felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his body at her words. He could feel his resolve slipping, the weight of his own desire pressing against the dam of his willpower. The darkness in the confessional seemed to pulse with a sinful energy that he hadn't noticed before. The scent of incense was replaced by the faint hint of her perfume, something floral and sweet, that filled the air around them.

The priest took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He knew that he was treading on dangerous ground, but something about her words resonated with him. He had always been taught that the human body was a temple of God and that desire was a natural part of God's creation. But lust, especially within the confines of the holy sanctity of the confessional, was a different matter entirely.

"It is not my place to judge the intentions of others, but it is your responsibility to maintain your purity in thought and action." His voice was tight, strained. He could feel the fabric of his cassock stretching against his hardened cock, betraying his own impure thoughts.

"But Father, if it is God's will for me to be desired, then why should I not indulge in that desire? Aligning my will with His " Her voice was whispering sweet nothings that danced around his conscience like a flirtatious dance.

Father Thomas felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as he wrestled with his own thoughts. Her words were seductive, wrapping around his mind like a warm, velvet embrace. The image of her naked body, laid bare before him, was almost too much to bear. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry as a desert.

"Father... have you ever noticed things about my body? Maybe things that bring you pleasure to notice?"

Father Thomas felt his face flush. His thoughts were indeed clouded with arousal, and her direct question only served to intensify the tumult within him. The walls of the confessional suddenly felt too close, the air too thick with the scent of her desire and his own burgeoning lust. He took a moment, his eyes closed, trying to banish the images of her naked body from his mind.

He began, his voice strained to a whisper, "It is not appropriate for me to speak of such things."

"But Father," she persisted, "you are a man of God. You know the beauty of creation. Is it not natural for you to appreciate the beauty of God's creations, even in a purely visual way? Please be open with me, Father. I have no one else I can talk to about these things."

Father Thomas's mind swirled with the weight of his own desires. The line between his sacred duty and the carnality that now gripped him was fading, and he found himself considering the possibility that perhaps God had brought them together in this moment for a reason. He felt a strange sense of excitement as if he was on the brink of something forbidden and yet strangely divine.

He opened his eyes, his gaze drifting to the floor. His cock twitched again, and he could feel the precum dampening his cassock. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain control over his thoughts.

"Mrs. Castellanos," he began, his voice a low rumble, "it is indeed natural to appreciate beauty. But we must not allow ourselves to be consumed by it." His words were a feeble attempt to hold back the wave of desire that threatened to engulf him.

"But Father," she said, her voice a sultry whisper, "surely even you can't resist the allure of beauty when it's right in front of you. And noticing beauty is not a sin. You just said so."

Father Thomas felt his resolve wavering like a candle in a storm. He knew he should admonish her for her boldness, but instead, his mind was swirling with images of her naked body, her skin glowing with the soft light of candles. The thought of her, so vulnerable and exposed, was a temptation too great to ignore. His cock was rock-hard, and he had to resist the urge to stroke it through the fabric of his cassock.

Mrs. Castellanos leaned closer, her breath hot against the screen. "Look at me, Father. See what God has created.  It is beautiful to you?"

Against his will, Father Thomas's eyes were drawn to the sliver of skin revealed by three buttons open on her shirt. The white lace of her bra peeked through with almost one entire breast outside the confines of her blouse. The shadow of her dark nipple played peekaboo, and he found himself captivated by the sight. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on his duty, but the scent of her perfume grew stronger, intoxicating him.

"What do you see Father?"

Her question was a challenge, one that seemed to echo through the small, claustrophobic space of the confessional. The priest's eyes remained fixed on the tantalizing glimpse of her skin, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He could feel the heat from her body, the warmth of her desire seeping through the cold, unyielding barrier between them.

With trembling hands, Mrs. Castellanos reached up and began to trace the edge of her bra with her fingertip. The delicate fabric of the lace whispered against her skin, sending shivers down her spine. The sensation was exquisite, a silent symphony of need and want that played out on the canvas of her flesh. She watched as Father Thomas's eyes followed the movement of her hand, his own breathing growing heavier, his struggle palpable.

"What do you see Father?"

Her words echoed in his mind as Mrs. Castellanos's finger traced the edge of her bra, the soft, warm skin of her breast visible through the gap in her shirt. The motion was hypnotic, and Father Thomas couldn't tear his gaze away. He felt his own body responding, his cock pulsing with each delicate movement of her hand. He tried to focus on his training and the confessional's sacredness, but the sight of her was too much to look away.

Her blouse parted more, her fingertip tugging the bra down slightly, exposing more olive skin. The tip of her nipple peeked out, a dark nub of flesh that stood erect with excitement. It was like a beacon, drawing him in, whispering promises of the forbidden fruit that lay just beyond his reach. The priest's breath hitched, and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that this was wrong, that he was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. But the temptation was too great.

"Do you see beauty, Father?"

Father Thomas felt his hand twitch, his fingers curling into a fist to keep from reaching out and trying to touch the soft curve of her breast that was now exposed to him. "I... I see a child of God, Mrs. Castellanos." His voice was tight, a clear indication of the internal battle he was waging.

Mrs. Castellanos leaned closer, the screen almost brushing against her flushed cheek. "But what do you really see, Father?" Her voice was a silky challenge, her eyes searching his for a hint of the truth.

Father Thomas's eyes darted downward, unable to resist the temptation. Through the fabric of his cassock, the outline of his erection was unmistakable. He felt a mix of shame and arousal, his body betraying his holy vows.

Mrs. Castellanos leaned closer to the confessional screen, her eyes also drawn to his lap, her eyes widening at the sight. She had hoped her words would affect him, but she had not expected this. A thrill of power surged through her, mingling with the heat between her legs. She could see his struggle, his desire warring with his duty, and she found it thrilling.

"I see beauty as well, Father. Do you want to show me more of that beauty?"

Her words were like a match thrown onto dry tinder. The fire of his lust grew, threatening to consume him. He knew he should admonish her and remind her of the sanctity of their situation, but the desire in his heart was too great to ignore. With trembling hands, he reached for the zipper of his cassock, his pulse racing as he revealed the engorged length of his cock. The fabric fell away, and he felt the cool air of the confessional wash over his heated skin.

Mrs. Castellanos's eyes grew wide as she took in the sight before her. She had never seen a man's cock so clearly, not even her husband's, not even in the secret moments she had shared with others. It was thick and veined, a symbol of the power she had over him. "It's beautiful, Father," she murmured, her voice filled with wonder and lust.

Father Thomas felt his face flush with both pleasure and embarrassment. He had never exposed himself like this, not even in the most private of moments. Yet, here he was, sitting in the sacred confessional with his cock standing tall, bared to the woman he was supposed to be guiding back to the righteous path. "Mrs. Castellanos," he managed to croak out, "this isn't right."

But she was insistent. "Is it not God's will for us to find beauty in the world He has created, Father? And is not my body a part of that world? And you already taught me to be tempted is not a sin. This is just temptation Father." She paused then asked, "It is so big Father. Does it fit in your hand?"

Her voice was a seductive purr, and Father Thomas felt his resistance crumble. He reached out, his hand shaking, and wrapped his fingers around his shaft. The feel of his own touch, coupled with the thought of her watching him, sent a jolt of pleasure through his body. He stroked himself gently, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yes," he murmured, his voice thick with lust, "it fits in my hand."

"My hand would look so small on it." He heard a ruffle of clothing and barely see that she had pulled her full, large breast out and was squeezing it."

Father Thomas felt his eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat. The sight of her bare flesh was more tempting than any sin he had encountered. The urge to touch her, to taste her, to claim her as his own was overwhelming. He watched as her thumb and forefinger pinched her nipple, rolling it gently between them, the rosy tip growing even darker.

The thought occurred to him there was wisdom of making the confessional as it was, visible to each party only if both agree, no means to touch. But oh, he wanted her touch right now.

"Mrs. Castellanos, this is... This is not appropriate for the confessional," Father Thomas's voice wavered, his hand still wrapped around his cock, his eyes unable to look away from the erotic scene playing out before him.

"It would only be a sin if we both gave in to our desires to experience intercourse with each other. We may want that, but we can't. Do you want me that way, Father?"

The priest's mind reeled. Her words were like a spell, weaving a tapestry of temptation that he could not resist. The idea of her, of her body entwined with his, her soft moans filling the sacred space, was a blasphemy that his soul craved. His hand tightened around his cock, stroking faster as he watched her play with her nipple.

"If you were my husband, how would you take me?" He could now see her hand moving between her legs, pressing on her crotch over her slacks.

Father Thomas's mind raced with the depraved thoughts of what he would do to her if he were not bound by his vows. He felt the heat of his own arousal, the sticky precum leaking from his cock as he imagined her naked and spread out before him. "As a man of God, I cannot entertain such thoughts," he said, his voice straining to maintain its firmness.

"But your calling requires you to offer counsel to those in need. How would you counsel my husband to take me?"

Her question was a challenge, one that he could feel the weight of. He knew he was in dangerous waters, but he couldn't help but be drawn into the seductive dance she was leading him in. "I would advise your husband to treat you with the love and respect you deserve, to cherish your body as a gift from God, and to seek to satisfy your needs in a way that honors your marriage vows."

"And what if I craved other treatment? Would it be wrong in the sanctity of my marriage for my husband to bend me over and take me like an animal?" Her mouth was now open, breathing heavy. Little noises of pleasure escaping her beautiful red lips.

The image of Mrs. Castellanos, her skirt hiked up, her plump ass in the air, begging to be taken, was almost too much for Father Thomas to bear. "Such... such acts are not inherently sinful if performed with love and consent," he stuttered, his hand moving faster on his cock. He could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting as he watched her hand rubbing faster between her legs.

"I like it that way Father. Bent over... taken roughly."

Her words were like a brand on his soul, marking him with the heat of desire. He knew he was falling, descending into a pit of temptation from which there would be no easy escape. Yet, he could not bring himself to stop her.

"Come closer to the screen, Father. Let me see temptation closer."

Her voice was a siren's call, and despite his better judgment, Father Thomas found himself leaning in, his cock straining towards her. The confessional was a prison of passion, and he was her willing captive. He watched as she unzipped her pants, her hand disappearing beneath the fabric. The sound of her palm rubbing against her sex was like a symphony of sin, and he could feel the heat of his own desire threatening to consume him.

"You're much bigger than him. Getting taken roughly from the back from you would be amazing."

Father Thomas's breath hitched at her words, his hand moving in time with the rhythm of his racing heart. He could feel the head of his cock pulsing, the need for release growing stronger with each passing moment.

"Stand, Father. Put it up to the screen."

Mrs. Castellanos's voice was a command, one that seemed to resonate with something primal within him. He couldn't help but obey, rising to his feet, his erection bobbing before her. He leaned closer, pressing his cock against the confessional screen, the mesh now a thin barrier to the sinful act he wished to commit.

Her warm breath hit the head of his cock, sending a shiver down his spine. The thought of her lips, so close yet untouchable, was maddening. He could feel the heat from her mouth, the softness of her breath caressing his sensitive flesh. It was a tease, a promise of what could never be.

"Do you think I could fit it all in my mouth?"

Her question was like a bolt of lightning, sending a jolt of pure, carnally electric desire coursing through Father Thomas's body. His hand tightened around his cock, his eyes glazed over with lust as he imagined her soft, full lips wrapping around him, her tongue caressing his shaft as she took him deep into her mouth.

"It would be the lesser of two evils, the warmth of my mouth satisfying you and eliminating the temptation to go further. Would you like that, Father?"

Father Thomas's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He knew that he should push her away, that he should admonish her for her wanton behavior. Yet, the idea of her mouth on him, the heat and wetness that would surround his cock, was too tempting to dismiss outright.

"Say it, Father. Tell me what temptations you feel in my presence," her hand a blur between her legs.

The priest's eyes closed briefly, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself. "Mrs. Castellanos, what you're asking of me... it goes against everything I believe in, everything I've vowed to uphold."

"We aren't going to do it. Doing it would be a sin. But teach me about temptations. What temptation are you currently feeling?"

Father Thomas's eyes snapped open, meeting hers with a fiery intensity that belied the turmoil within him. "The temptation," he said, his voice a low growl, "is to taste the forbidden fruit, to take you into my arms and show you the passion that burns in my loins."

"Leaning so close to the screen that her lips touched it as she whispered, "Does that mean you want to FUCK me, Father?"

Not only was this the first time for her to ever use that word, it was also blasphemy in the confessional, a profane incantation that seemed to resonate in the sacred space. She didn't mean to say it, but she was lost in lust as well, so close to orgasm. Father Thomas felt his cock twitch in response, his control slipping away like sand through his fingers. The line between counselor and temptress was blurring, and he was no longer sure who was leading who down the path of temptation.

"Father.  Press yourself against the screen."

Despite the alarm bells ringing in his mind, he found himself leaning in, his cock pressing against the screen. He could feel the heat from her breath, and then he watched in shock as her tongue came out and licked him through the screen. He could feel the warm wetness.

The suddenness of her action was too much. With a strangled moan, Father Thomas felt his body give in to the tempest of desire that had been building within him. His hand moved in rapid strokes, and with a final, desperate push, he climaxed. He could feel the warmth of his seed spurt forth, coating the screen that separated them, a stark contrast to the cold, unyielding metal.

Mrs. Castellanos pulled back with a gasp, the taste of him on her tongue. The sound of his release filled the confessional, echoing off the walls like a confession of his weakness. She watched as his hand fell away from the screen, his cock still pulsing slightly, the evidence of his sin clearly visible through the mesh, some of it oozing through the screen.

Her own desire had reached a fever pitch, and she couldn't help the moan that escaped her as she felt the first wave of her own orgasm crash over her. Her body trembled, her hips bucking against her hand as she ground against her palm. The friction of her lacy underwear against her sensitive clit only added to the delicious torment.

Father Thomas watched, transfixed, as Mrs. Castellanos succumbed to her passion. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face a picture of ecstasy as she chased her release. He could see the muscles in her neck tighten, the pulse at her throat fluttering like the wings of a trapped bird. It was a sight that both terrified and thrilled him, a testament to the power of the flesh and the fragility of the

When the tremors of her orgasm subsided, Mrs. Castellanos leaned back against the bench, her breathing heavy and erratic. The silence that followed was thick with guilt and the unspoken acknowledgment of what had just happened.

Father Thomas felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his own climax. He had never felt such a powerful rush of pleasure, and the realization of his sin weighed on him like a ton of bricks. He had crossed a line, one that could not be uncrossed.

Mrs. Castellanos opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his through the sticky mesh of the confessional screen. The look of shock and guilt on his face mirrored her own, and for a moment, she felt a pang of regret for leading him down this path. She had never intended for things to go this far, but the power she had over him had been too much to resist.

"Father," she murmured, her voice hoarse with desire, "I never meant for this to happen." Her hand remained between her legs, her fingers still coated in her own juices. The taste of him lingered on her tongue, a forbidden nectar that she hadn't anticipated craving.

Father Thomas felt his legs wobble, and he had to lean against the wall for support. "Neither did I, Mrs. Castellanos," he croaked, trying to compose himself. "We must... we must not speak of this again."

Her eyes searched his, a mix of lust and fear in their depths. "But Father," she began, tears welling up in her eyes, "what we've done, it's not... it's not right."

He nodded, his own guilt a heavy burden. "You're correct. We have both sinned gravely. But we can seek forgiveness. We can confess and repent."

Mrs. Castellanos nodded, her hand slipping away from her sex. "I'll... I'll do that."

The priest took a deep breath, the weight of his failure crushing him. "I'll be praying for us both," he said solemnly. "We must ask for God's mercy and guidance."

The silence that fell between them was unbearable. The tension was palpable, a living, breathing entity that filled the confessional. Mrs. Castellanos slowly zipped up her pants, her eyes never leaving his.

"Thank you, Father," she whispered, the words sounding hollow in the wake of their shared transgression.

Father Thomas managed a small smile, though it felt forced. "God bless you, Mrs. Castellanos," he murmured, his voice trembling. "Your penance is to say five Hail Marys and an Act of Contrition."

She nodded, crossing herself before rising to leave the confessional. The sound of her footsteps echoed in the small room, each step a reminder of the sin they had committed together. As the door clicked shut, Father Thomas slumped back onto the chair, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The guilt was a crushing force, threatening to drown him. He had never felt so far from God, so lost in the throes of carnality. He knew he would need to seek guidance from his superiors, to confess his own sins and seek a path back to righteousness.

But even as he prayed for strength and forgiveness, the image of Mrs. Castellanos's lustful gaze remained etched in his mind, a seductive whisper that seemed to echo through his very soul. The temptation was still there, one that grew stronger with every passing moment.