Bless Me, Father, for I Have Sinned
Copyright© 2025 by Dirty Michael
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Father Jacob is taking confession, as he always did on Sunday. But this confession touches at Father Jacob's heart.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Consensual Gay Fiction Anal Sex Masturbation
The curtain rings in the other side of the Confessional rattled as the curtain was pushed aside and Mrs Smith and her billowing skirts swept out, taking her sin of gluttony and her penance of five Hail Marys with her.
Silence reigned, but not for long. Less than a minute later, footsteps approached and the curtain was pulled back into place. The confessor settled onto the wooden bench and the sound of breathing could be heard.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been six weeks since my last confession.” came a low voice, which I did not recognise.
“How so, my son?” I asked.
“Father, I seek absolution for the sin of lust, which I committed ten or more time, for which I know I should be sincerely sorry”
I considered my words carefully, before replying “Are you married my son?”
“Yes, Father, I am, and I love my wife and children dearly. Can I be forgiven for my sin? What penance must I make?”
“Do you know this woman for whom you lust?”, I enquired, filling my voice with mild disappointment that one of my parishioners should have strayed from the path.
The reply was spoken even more softly. “It is not a woman for whom I lust Father, it is another man.”
My breath caught. At last, something of interest. This particular Sunday wasn’t going to be a total washout after all. At this point I should have been asking the sinner if he was genuinely sorry for his sins, but I just couldn’t do that; I wanted to know more.
“Do you know this man, my son?”
“No, Father, I do not, but I have seen him on a number of occasions.”
“And what attracts you to him, my son?”
The confessor cleared his throat.
“He is very rugged, but he has a kind face and I know from people I have spoken to that he is a good man, but that is not what I find most attractive about him Father, it something far more lustful. Something much more physical...”
“Go on”, I prompted.
The voice stuttered out, almost unable to say the words “I saw him in the gym a few weeks ago...”, another pause as courage was raised to speak the next words. They finally came; “wearing a pair of tight shorts Father, and I could see the outline of his...”
The voice died away. I held my breath, but the voice did not continue. “His what, my son?”
The response came, even lower than before. “His long, fat, luscious cock Father.”
My heart thumped and my heart raced as I tried to get my thoughts into some sort of order.
“Are you gay my son?” I gasped out.
“No Father, I have never thought of another man like this, but the sight of that bulge in his shorts took my breath away, and every time I have seen him since, I have watched that cock moving in his trousers and it makes me want to hold it in my hand and slide my lips up and down it, worshipping its length and girth and sucking and licking its fat head.”
My own cock was now trying to burst out of my underpants at the words my parishioner was confiding to me.
“But does he not wear underpants?” I asked, trying to remember anyone at the gym in the town where we lived, which I also attended, who matched that description.
“Yes, Father, he does, but that bulge in his trousers makes my mouth go dry every time I see it. I have been back to the gym three times to see him in tight shorts again, but he was only there once, but at least he was wearing another pair of tight shorts. After watching him exercise for half an hour, watching his gorgeous cock as he exercised, I was so excited that I had to sneak away”.
“Sneak away to do what my son?”, I asked.
“To masturbate Father” he whispered.
I sat back, my own cock rigid at the thought of this quietly spoken married man, notionally heterosexual man, masturbating over the sight of another man’s cock. I slipped my hand under my robes, stroking my cock and squeezing my knob.
With an effort I pulled myself back into my role, trying to calm my thoughts and work out how I would get the confession back on track.
“Yes, my son,” I said, “You certainly have committed the sin of lust. Do you truly regret your thoughts and actions? For if you do not, I will be unable to suggest a penance or give you absolution.”
There was the sound of quiet sob on the other side of the curtain, then the words “No Father, I do not regret my thoughts or actions. I lust for this man’s body and am not sure how to stop myself from thinking or feeling that way. What can I do?”