Fiction
20 Oct 2018


She had moved into the small, ramshackle cottage several days ago. Originally a tiny farm hands home, it had been added to over the years and was now a quirky odd shaped building in need of tender love and hard work. She moved here for solitude. A widow starting a new life far away from old ties and the pitying looks of others.

Today she was painting the living room. A small room with just enough space for a sofa and a small chair, facing towards a coal fire. She was standing on a creaking step ladder, balancing a paint pot on the top. She heard a knock at the door. Expecting a parcel she called out the door was open. The door was pushed open so hard it hit the bottom of the ladder, causing it to wobble. She cried out and struck a hand out towards the wall to balance herself. In doing so she knocked against the paint pot, sending flying the pot and its contents towards the dark haired, handsome man who had entered the house. He broke its fall to the floor with his hands. As he caught it it splashed up to his face then down the front of his green tshirt. The deep red immediately soaking into his clothes. She leapt down from the ladder and gasped an apology. His twinkling eyes relaxed her as they dissolved into giggles. He had heard someone had moved in and popped in to say hello. She told him she would rinse his shirt under cold water to stop it being ruined and was mesmerised to see his bare chest with its dark hair. She had to stop herself blushing as she thought of her hastily pinned up hair, her tight red vest and old floral skirt covered in paint splatters as she stood before him in. She walked into the kitchen that stretched along the back of the house, trying to tame some loose tendrils of hair, and proceeded to rinse the paint away. He told her he was Dennis and worked nearby. He told her he loved her house and was really interested to see what she would do with it. They discussed the overgrown garden and her plans. She wrung the tshirt out between a folded towel and hung it in front of the aga. It wouldn't take long to dry she said.

He asked if she needed any help while he waited. She told him she had boxes to lift into the loft but couldn't do it alone.

The landing was small. The loft hatch tiny. They decided that she should stand on the ladder while he steadied it and lifted the boxes to her. She was unaware that as she pushed each box into the depths of the loft he could see her bare thighs and her soft arse encased in red lace knickers. As she stepped back down the ladder she missed a step and stumbled back into his broad, bare chest. He wrapped his arms around her to steady her, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. She leaned back against him, the touch on her skin causing her nipples to harden and a throb deep in her groin. She could feel the heat of his body against her and she could feel against her lower back his hard arousal. She turned and placed a hand on his chest, and looked up to his face, pausing her gaze at his full lips. As she did so he stepped back and nervously asked if his shirt was dry. The simmering passion was quelled in just one sentence. She was embarrassed as she handed back his still damp tshirt. Embarrassed that she almost kissed a stranger and also upset he rejected her, the echos of false "lovely to meet you, visit again" rang in the air as she now stood in her empty house.

She thought of him in the following days. She thought of his beautiful blue eyes, his mouth and most of all the feel of his cock against her. The thought of his long, hard cock had awoken a need in her. She would find herself lost in a fantasy of being bent over the loft ladder as he rammed into her, or laying with her legs up as he pushed two fingers in and out of her and suckled her breasts. She would almost come to from her daydreams to find a whole wall painted and her knickers damp with arousal. Many times she had to stop and seek refuge in the old comfortable chair in the bathroom, where she would hastily rub her clitoris to orgasm in the hope it would relieve her body and mind. It never worked. She craved a real man not her hand.

It was a Saturday morning. It was bright and sunny. She looked out the front Window, across the village green. On the other side was a church. Its steeple shining in the sun. She felt the weight of a childhood of Catholic guilt fall on her shoulders. How could she lust a man she hardly knew. She didn't want a man in her life and yet all her thoughts revolved around him. She decided to attend confession. The coldness of the church, the remembrance of the old ways would surely cure her thoughts of pleasure.

She entered the church. She wished she hadn't worn heels the moment the clack of them rung out around the almost church. She tried to tiptoe down the aisle towards the confessional box. There was one elderly lady waiting her turn. Her disapproving look at the bright floral dress and red shoes was enough to cause her face to redden. What must she think of the sad widow who has moved here. If only she knew.

She spent the time waiting for her turn kneeling and trying to think of Hail Marys. Tried, because all she really thought of was cock. She turned to see the lady shuffle out and kneel stiffly to begin her penance. She almost giggled as she wondered if her sin was thoughts of cock too.

Entering the confessional booth she recited the words," Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been many years since my last confession".

She thought of the times she came as a child and made up sins as she was sure she had none otherwise. The voice behind the screen told her to continue. She told him she had thoughts of lust for a man. A man she knew nothing about but can think of nothing more than lust full thoughts. The priest told her to continue. She meant to tell him that she felt this temptation but knew it was wrong but in the dim, anonymous light she told how she felt unexpected lust, that it sparked a fire in her that needed sating. That all she could think of was the comfort in a touch, the removal from all that was sad in her life, and how she burned for another touch, how she wanted it, how she thought of nothing more than being ravished by the stranger. She could hear her breath getting more pronounced, feel the familiar righting of her breasts as they became more full in her bra. Coming to her senses she whispered sorry as she ran from the booth. She didn't see the stranger appear from the other side of the booth, dressed in his cassock, watching her leave the church.

If it wasn't so mortifying, it would be funny. She let herself into the house and walked through the kitchen to the bathroom. The uninsulated room, that seemed to have been fashioned from a lean to, was chilled. One side of the room had an old ceramic bath which she poured scented vanilla oil into. She left hot water running into it as she lit the fire on the opposite side of the room. She turned the radio on in the kitchen to classic fm and the swirls of music filled the air. Heaping coal onto the fire she laid in the hot bath. Her nipples chilled in the air, her pussy enveloped in warmth. She swished the water over her chest. It left an oily residue behind. She run her flat palms over the balls of nipples, down her stomach. She lay her head back and closed her eyes.

He knocked at the door. It swung open. He stepped in and called hello. Closing the door behind him he followed the music. He was concerned she ran off, that she felt such guilt, but even more, he was curious. He felt the attraction too. He could feel his cock stiffening at the thought of her arse above him. He walked into the kitchen, expecting to find her there. He continued into the bathroom and stopped . She was laying in the bath, her oil skin lit up by the flames of the fire light. Her eyes were shut, her mouth open. She was stroking a hand between her legs and another was surrounding the flesh of a breast. He stood still, watching. Then he moved forward.

A noise startled her. She opened her eyes and saw him. The stranger in a priests outfit. The enormity of what she said and who he was widened her eyes. She began to speak but he put a finger to lips. He knelt at the edge of the bath and trailed a finger up her left arm. He trailed it around her left breast and then her right in a figure of eight. He moved to a palm and run his palm up her collar bone and around her neck, then down over her stomach. Down between her legs. She watched him. Had he touched a women before? He was mesmerised by her skin. Running his hand down her long legs then back to her core. He held a hand out and she took it. He grabbed a thick white towel and as she stood he wrapped it around her.

She stepped from the bath to the rug in front of the fire. He pulled her towards him. They collided. Their kiss started tenderly but quickly became full of the promise of passion between them. He dropped the towel and pulled her damp body closer to him. He run his hands down her back to her arse. Cupping her arse he lifted her against his hard on. Sliding his hands to her thighs he moved her backwards onto the chair . He kissed her neck and nibbled along her collar bone. She gasped, her whole body tingling , her nipples so tight and so proud, almost pulsing for attention. He licked down to her right nipple as he encased her left breast in his hand . She could feel the rough fabric of his cassock against her, against her tender skin. She tried to find the way in to his body but he held her hands and placed them by her side. He nibbled and sucked each breast. He bit one gently and knew she liked it by the way her head fell back and her breast was produced closer to him. He continued down her body, avoiding her glimmering wetness to kiss down her legs and back up her thighs. He leaned back up as he watched her watching him. He put a thumb on her clitoris and began to gently circle. With his other hand he guided her legs up and open, bringing them to fall over each arm of the chair. It exposed her pink wet pussy to him. He run his fingers down her folds and inserted one into her tightness. She gripped at him. He slid it in and out as he tilted down and licked at her clitoris. She gripped her legs. Opening wider. She could feel waves building in her. He slid another finger in and watched her face as he gripped a breast. She bucked against his hand. She leaned and grabbed his head. Pulling it into her as she climaxed in big shudders, her body shaking and trembling as all the tension melted from her. As she continued to throb he licked her clitoris , continuing the orgasm until she hurtled into another. She gasped and writhed as he sucked down and pushed his fingers once more into her. The sliding of his fingers brought on another peak and she gripped her legs around him and lifted her arse from the chair as she ground into it.

The orgasm began to fade into tiny flickers which still made her writhe. She told him to take his clothes off. She stood and helped him undo the cassock contraption and unzipped his jeans. She stood back as he removed his jeans and pants. His cock jumping from its enclosure and showing she was not wrong in her imaginations. She went to him. They kissed again, this time slower more erotic kisses. She an her hand over his chest, over his dark hairs , stroking the mole nestled there. She ran her hands down to his cock, encasing it in her hands , one around the girth of it slowing moving up and down and the other rubbing the head. She told him to lay down on the rug. She licked the head of it, it shined in the firelight . She licked up the length of it swirling her tongue around it. She put the head in her mouth, feeling the stretch of her lips around it. She opened her mouth mote and slid it into her mouth. He was half leaning g against the chair and watching her suck him into her. He stroked her hair from her face and she cupped his balls and sucked up and down slowly. She pushed his legs open and huddled between them as she moved a hand in to wank him too. She could feel him holding her hair into a knot in his hand. He began to push her further down his cock and faster. She lifted up. Moving up his body she told him she was going to say it's not sin if there's no penetration but she has to feel him inside her. She saddles his body. Her left knee down her right leg balancing on her foot. She positioned his cock under her pussy and begins to circle around it. Feeling it spread her lips and pushing down until it's deeper then deeper into her. She grips the chair arms as she lifts and falls onto his long length. Over and over she pushes harder and lifts higher as she can feel the promise she imagined so much. She begins to tremble around him and sees him grasp at her. She pulls away and quickly engulfs him in her mouth. Sucking harder and moving closer to the base she circles his balls as she feels them tighten and then his hands holding her still she feels his cock vibrate and pulse as he fills her mouth and throat with his hot cum. The feel of it filling her mouth edges her back into orgasm as he holds her head prone.


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