Priests Gone Wild
Copyright© 2026 by Ring of Seed
Chapter 2: The Anointing
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 2: The Anointing - A quiet ecumenical synod. Five older priests arrive expecting doctrinal debate. They leave leaking. A young liaison with a clipboard turns the gathering into a week-long competition of who can: take the most; hold the longest; beg the loudest; leak the least. Blindfolds, guessing games, holy items as plugs, arses presented like competing portals. They pout, sabotage, crowning themselves “biggest slut” while the twink narrator owns them all. No redemption. No moral comfort.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Mult Consensual Reluctant Gay Fiction Group Sex Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Double Penetration First Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism
Lionel stayed on the edge of the bed. Legs parted. Breath still uneven. The word “please” hung between us like smoke from a snuffed candle. I did not move at first. Let the silence thicken. Let him feel the heat of my tongue still pressed against his ring. Let him feel the ache of wanting something he had spent decades forbidding himself to name.
His hands loosened on the sheets. Fingers trembled once. Then stilled. The pectoral cross rose and fell with each shallow breath. Silver against silvering fur. I lifted my head slowly. Looked up at him. His blue eyes were glassy now. Not focused on me. Focused inward. On the place where guilt and hunger met and refused to separate.
I rose. Unzipped. Cock already hard. Thick. Leaking at the tip. I slicked myself with spit. One long stroke from root to head. Lionel watched. Throat worked. No protest this time. Only the soft wet sound of his swallow.
I stepped between his legs again. Lined up. The fat head nudged his rim. Pressed. Not entering yet. Just resting there. Letting the pressure build. Letting him feel the promise of stretch. Of filling. Of ruin.
“You said please.”
My voice stayed low. Calm. Almost kind.
“Say it again. Tell me what you want.”
Lionel’s lips parted. No sound at first. Then the word came. Quiet. Cracked.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
I flexed my hips. Just enough to let the head nudge deeper. Not inside. Not yet. Just the promise. His hole fluttered against me. Tried to pull me in. Failed.
“Say the whole thing. Tell your God and me what you need.”
His eyes closed. Cheeks flushed beneath the beard. Chest hair rose with a ragged breath.
“Please ... enter me.”
I pushed forward. Slow. One long continuous slide. No pause. No mercy. Lionel’s back arched. Mouth opened on a silent cry. Hole stretched wide around me. Walls gripping. Hot. Tight. Then yielding. I bottomed out. Balls pressed to his crack. Ground there. Left. Right. Stirring deep. Letting him feel every inch claiming space that had never been claimed before.
Lionel moaned. Long. Low. Hands came up. Gripped my shoulders. Not pushing away. Pulling closer. Nails dug in through shirt. I started moving. Steady rhythm. Deep. Each withdrawal dragged against his walls. Each thrust bottomed out again. Wet sounds filled the room. Skin on skin. The faint creak of the bedframe. The hiss of the radiator somewhere distant.
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