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'Want more, do you?' he said. His next smack caught the division between my cheeks, driving them apart and baring for one instant the aperture of both our dark desires.

Again and again he spanked me this way, warming my crack until it seemed to sizzle under his hand. He panted with exertion. Warm drops of sweat flew from his skin to mine. I wondered if his palm stung as badly as my bottom. Did he like the aftershocks as much as I did, the way the memory-pain throbbed in tandem with my pulse? He liked having me at his mercy, of that I had no doubt. His erection stretched beneath my belly, solid as stone. The noises he made grew distinctly pre-orgasmic, the war between self-control and intense excitement apparent in every grunt.

I wanted him inside me when he came; I wanted it so badly I could hardly keep from begging.

'Lord have mercy,' he gasped and - with a suddenness that made my stomach swoop - lifted me up and around and sat me facing him on his lap.

The starched black cassock burnt my paddled buttocks, but I didn't care. The pain heightened every sensation, tightening in on itself and then flaring out. I'd long since soaked through my panties. I'm certain he felt the moisture because his hands tightened on my hips, setting off a ricochet of pleasure-pain. The kernel of flesh around which all my ecstasy
centred
was so engorged it poked through my swollen lips like the trigger of a gun.

'No,' he said, when I tried to press closer. 'You'll make me spend, Katie.' 'Spend inside me,' I pleaded. ‘I want to know what it's
 
like. I need to know. You made me ache so I can hardly bear it.'

His face twisted. 'Damn you for liking this.'

‘I can't help it.' I mouthed the strong line of his jaw. He sighed and tilted his head towards the caress. His lips brushed mine. ‘I'm made that way, Father. Just like you. My body needs things, dark things, and you're the only one who'll give them to me.'

He let himself smile, a wry, self-mocking smile. 'Hardly, little Kate. You and I both know men will queue up in droves to give you whatever you want.'

I cut a glance from under my lashes. 'But who will help me now, Father? Who will love me the way you do?'

He had not meant for me to guess his feelings. His expression darkened. 'Very well.' He set me gently on the desk and spread my thighs as wide as they could go. 'Let's see if I can show you what you've been missing.'

He parted my lips with his thumbs, tracing the wet channel between inner and outer. His hastened respiration brushed my skin. His golden hair tickled my thighs. His thumbs
travelled
higher, catching the soft hood between their pads. He smoothed it back to reveal the rosy jewel within.

I tensed. I did not like to be stimulated bare. I was so sensitive there.

But, 'I'll be careful,' he said and, with a greater delicacy than I knew he possessed, he laved me ever so gently with the tip of his tongue.

I couldn't hold back my cry of startled pleasure. The sensation was so sharp and hot and penetrating. The
dozenth
flick of his tongue brought me off, and the second
dozenth
tipped me over the edge again.

'Better?' he asked as he helped me on to my feet again.

'Yes,' I said, breathing hard - and I was better, but not satisfied.

Before he could stop me, I bent down to grasp the hem of his cassock and flung it all at once to his hips. As I'd expected, he was wore nothing under it. The black cloth settled about his hips in feminine abundance, but the treasure I'd revealed was supremely male. Knotted calves led to hard slim knees and bulging thighs, all of which shone pale but vibrant against the dark backdrop of his robe.

The sight of his black socks and shoes made me smile, but his sex - the stout mauve shaft capped with a crown of shining burgundy - that sight struck a blow to my solar plexus.

His cock vibrated with the pressure of his need, swollen to the limits of its skin. His foreskin clung to the grossly flared rim, catching up the rich, silky tears that flowed from the tiny cock-mouth. I could have wept myself at the taunting, potent image.

This was forbidden, I reminded myself, for the sheer thrill of the word: forbidden by his vows, by my youth, and by the power disparity between us. Forbidden like the first apple - and just as red and firm.

With the tip of my little finger, I traced the slippery moisture that ringed his cock, gently pushing the taut covering back until it snapped down of its own accord. The good Father bit his lower lip so hard a drop of blood appeared.

'Have you ever had a woman?' I whispered, circling him now beneath the rim.

'Never,' he whispered back. 'But I've dreamt of it -too many times to confess.'

'Did you dream of me?' Unable to wait any longer, I straddled his lap.

His eyes drifted halfway shut. Now bare thighs met bare, simmering buttocks. His hands settled uneasily on my hips, on top of my skirt. 'I dreamt of you,’ he admitted. His thumbs ventured round to stroke my belly where the skirt's smooth pleats were sewn together. ‘I spilt my seed on the sheets dreaming of you, and when I prayed - in my heart - I prayed to dream of you again.' I grasped his hands and eased them under the finely woven wool to my naked skin. He sighed, his fingers lighting and un-lighting like a wary bird. When they settled on my hips, I rolled the front of the skirt up over itself and tucked it into the waistband. He stared at what I'd uncovered and licked dry lips. Then I cocked my hips forward until my fleece tickled the underside of his shaft.

'I cannot put it in you,' he warned, his voice gravel and smoke. 'You're a good girl. I would not deprive your husband of his marital flower.'

I tossed my head and took hold of his root. 'My husband will take what he can get and say "thank you".'

He clucked his tongue. 'Such arrogance.'

Unrepentant, I tugged the crown closer until it slipped between my plump, wet lips.

'Ah-ah-ah,' he scolded, and pried my hand from him. 'I don't trust you, little Katie. You must take what I give you.'

He steadied his under ridge with four curled fingers and pressed the upper with his thumb. Firmly in hand, he
maneuvred
the head against my clit and gave it three firm taps, each of which sent a shock of feeling down the tiny stiffened shaft. As easily as that, I wanted to come again.

I whimpered when he eased away.

'You must promise to behave,' he said, 'and if you make me believe you, I'll slip just a bit inside you, so you can feel what it's like.'

I promised, of course, and pretended not to see him roll the condom on.

We both made small, hungry sounds when he pressed the head inside.

'How lovely,' I
marvelled
, all wide-eyed wonder. 'It's like satin, so warm and full. Does it feel as nice to you, Father? I wish I could make you feel as wonderful as I did when you kissed me between my legs.' I petted the shaft where it entered my body. His penis bucked. 'Look how it moves under my hand. I think it wants to shoot like it did before. See how red it's getting.'

When he looked at the place where our bodies met, sweat popped out on his brow.

He lifted my hand from him and ordered me not to touch him there. He said he wouldn't come and I mustn't try to make him. "Yes, Father, I said and kissed a drop of perspiration from his temple. He said I mustn't squirm like that: it made him want to push, and he couldn't push. It wasn't safe. Priest or not, he was still a man. He only had so much control. Yes, Father, I said, but when his buttocks clenched, driving him a fraction deeper, I couldn't help squirming a bit. He muttered a prayer and said maybe a little further would be all right and then a little more and then he groaned and said he knew it must hurt but couldn't I take all of him just for a moment? Only just a moment, because he'd never felt anything so heavenly and he promised on his mother's sainted memory that he wouldn't spill inside me.

I wriggled on to him, girl-tight, woman-wet. My lips kissed his thatch.

'Mother of God,' he swore, and caught me in a crushing embrace. 'Yes, that's - just a little more. I'm almost in. Just one more push. I promise I won't - Ah, ah, yes, that's all of it. Bless you, Katie. Bless you.' He shuddered from his belly out. His cock swelled. He paled. 'Oh, dear God, help me not to -' 'Come,’ I whispered.

He held my hips immobile, locking me tight to the cradle of his loins, fighting the inevitable with a strangled moan.

'Come,' I said. I licked the spot where he'd bitten his lip. He gasped and I flicked the red wet tip past the edge of his teeth. 'Come with me. I'm almost there. A push or two is all it will take. Don't you want to feel it around your thing? Don't you want to feel how a woman quivers when you show her a glimpse of heaven?'

'A glimpse of hell,' he said, shaking all over with need.

'Heaven,' I insisted. I kicked my feet, forcing the chair to rock. The spring squealed. 'I'll pull out,' he warned.

I laughed and rocked again. 'Is this how you want it to end? Rocking like a baby? Or thrusting like a man?'

His growl was unintelligible. With our bodies still connected, he rose and slammed me back on to the desk. Papers fluttered to the floor. I winced as my head hit the edge. He reached up to cradle it, exclaiming in distress.

'I'm fine,' I insisted. Take me. Hurry.'

'Have it your way then,' he said. 'Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.'

He grabbed my thighs beneath the knee and pushed them back towards my chest, bracing them with his shoulders. The position opened me completely to his first deep thrust. He held himself inside me at the utmost end of the
downstroke
, sweating and trembling. The tendons in his neck stood out. I thought he'd explode then and there. He must have thought so, too, because he pulled back gingerly, gritting his teeth, then drove in hard. This time I felt the jolt through my womb. A warning tremor made my sheath dance around his shaft.

'Not yet,' he growled, freezing again.

But I couldn't wait. The need for release cramped deep in my sex, too insistent for delay. Vowing I'd make him come with me, I reached under the cassock to grip his tight round buttocks. I burrowed between his cheeks until I found the dark sensitive pucker. He jumped when I touched it and moaned when I pinched it.

'Put it in,' he ordered hoarsely. 'Shove your thumb inside me.'

His sweat eased my way but it was a rough, partial insertion. Just what he wanted, apparently. The responsive ring of muscle flexed and clung as I rimmed him from the inside. His hips writhed with pleasure, then began to pump in earnest - deep, long strokes that drove me quickly to the edge of orgasm.

'Oh, Lord, Katie,' he said, his voice jolted by the force of his thrusts. He spread my legs wider. ‘I can't stop it. I can't. I've got to come. Take me. Jesus, take me.' With that, we both caught a glimpse of the ultimate, heart slowed. A fist of pure hunger clenched and released between my legs. Almost - almost - Grunting with effort, he slung in to my utmost limit and, finally, the body-wrenching spasm of sensation broke, jetting through me hot and tight and then warm, wet, loose, like mulled wine through my belly - spicy, drunken pleasure. I remember our mingled cries, harsh and sweet, and the strength of his climactic pulses meeting mine.

I don't remember him lifting me off the desk and settling me on his bed, but he must have. He must have taken off our clothes, too, because when I came to myself we were snuggled under the covers in our birthday suits. He had a queen-sized futon, perfect for the pair of us -perfect for him and Joe, as well, I supposed. Limp as an overcooked noodle, I didn't have the energy to mind the reminder.

'Are you back?' he asked, pressing a kiss to my sweaty brow.

I hummed a mild affirmative.

He hugged me closer. 'When you do come back all the way, remind me to explain about topping from below.'

Pleasantly drowsy, I ran my hand down his ribs to his hip. I was always amazed by how narrow men's hips can be. Sean had an inch-long scar I'd never noticed before, right behind the bone.

'Is that some sort of S and M code?' I asked, tracing the raised flesh with my finger.

He moved my hand to his chest. '"Topping from below" means the supposedly submissive person takes control of the scene.'

'Oh,' I said, then digested what he meant. 'I'm sorry, Sean. I thought I was following your lead.' I hid my face in the valley of his chest. 'Guess I ran away with things.'

His chuckle soothed my embarrassment, as did the hand that stroked my hair. "That's okay. Your way was fun - a little more intense than I'd planned, but fun.'

Since he seemed so jovial, I thought I'd push my luck.

'Sean-' I flattened my palm over his right nipple. ‘I was wondering. I know you attended boarding school.

Did you ever - Did anyone try anything like what we played out?'

A near-silent sigh lifted his rib cage. 'There was a priest at school who I wished would try. Father Mike was his name. I had a terrible crush on him: my first. He coached the soccer team. He was a good guy. He took an interest in me even though I was a hell of a smart-mouth back then, if you can imagine that.' I smiled and petted his chest.

'Father Mike was the youngest priest there. He had a great body - tall, slim - and a funny, friendly face. Once in a while they'd let him handle Sunday service. I'd get an erection before the first hymn was done, which made all that kneeling and rising a challenge.' He laughed through his nose. 'Man, I had it bad for him. That's how I knew I liked boys as much as girls.'