Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned...7 Times

MIRIAM

“This is so wrong,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut so I didn’t have to look at him anymore. This man was far too handsome for his own good, and when he was crowding my space like this, I was having a hard time resisting him. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Alex. It’s wrong on so many levels.”

My words didn’t deter him in the slightest as he crossed the few steps between us and caged me against the counter behind me. I cursed myself for not moving faster, but there was nothing I could do now. I had tried before, and that ended with him lifting me onto the counter and fucking my brains out.

Don’t get me wrong, it was amazing and I had never been fucked like the way this man fucks me, but it was wrong on so many different levels.

I may have met Alex first, but he was my stepbrother now.

“Why is it wrong, baby?” He bowed his head to press his lips to my ear, whispering directly in it. “We’ve danced this dance before. Why should we refrain now?”

“It can’t happen again.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re my stepbrother.” I groaned and pushed on his chest, but Alex was quick to trap my hand, forcing me to feel the impressive abs he spent hours in the gym every day for.

“That never stopped you before.” He smirked against the slope of my neck, and I felt his lips part as he sucked the skin into his mouth, sucking hard, When I gasped, I felt him smirk against my neck and his hands dropped onto my hips, pulling me closer and grinding his groin against my stomach.

A moan escaped me at the delicious feeling. I slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late.

“Admit it, baby. You want this just as much as I do.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Prove it,” he demanded with a cocky smirk.

My lips curved down. “What?”

“Prove to me that you don’t want this as much as I do.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you.” I rolled my eyes.

His grin widened. “Then I guess I’ll need to have a look for myself.”

Before I could question what my wicked stepmother meant, he slipped a hand into my leggings and pressed two fingers to my core over the lacey material of my panties. My face grew hot, and I could do nothing but caress his chest while he stroked my pussy through my panties.

Alex’s smirk only grew wider and even more insufferable as he slipped his hand out of my leggings and showed me his fingers, the tips glistening even though he had stayed outside my panties.

“You’re soaked, baby. Looks like I proved you wrong. You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” I scoffed and looked away. “You need to leave me alone, Alex. You stay on your side of the house, and I’ll stay out of mine. The less we have to see each other, the better.” I pushed on his chest with both hands, and relief washed over me when he took two steps back.

“That isn’t going to work for me, Jolene. You’re too damn irresistible for me to stay on my side of the house.”

Before I could make my getaway, Alex hooked an arm around my waist and spun me so my back was pressed up against his chest, and his hand was inside my leggings once again. This time, he pushed the thin material of my panties aside and slipped two fingers into my soaked core. The clenching sound of my wet pussy clenched tightly around his fingers had me moaning and even though I knew it was so wrong, I threw my head back to rest it on his shoulder, finally giving in to the pleasure that only my stepbrother could give me.

Before the main characters could confess their love in this slow, angsty romance, the sheet was suddenly away, revealing me lying on my stomach, reading with the light of the torch on my phone.

“Miriam Salome Chiswell!” My mother yelled, her across crossed over her chest with a furious look on her face. Her eyes were so wide and angry that it looked like they would roll out of their sockets at any moment now, and her face was slowly turning an angry shade of red, making her look like a hot tomato

I was too stunned at getting discovered that I didn’t realise the magnitude of the situation.

For other girls my age, being discovered reading a book in the early hours of the morning wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but it was for me. You see, my mother was a devout Christian and thought this genre of literature came from the devil.

My whole family already thought I was digging a grave for myself in Hell with my skirts that ended above the knee, shirts that stretched tight over my chest, and the blonde that I had dyed my hair a few months ago. I was a natural brunette like my mother and sisters–my father’s hair was darker than the night sky–but I had never been a fan of the colour. I always thought it made me look mousey so for my nineteenth birthday party, I decided to bite the bullet and treat myself to a hair transformation. I had gone full strawberry blonde and hadn’t looked back since.

I loved my new hair and had every intention of keeping it blonde for as long as I could, but my mother was already begging me to dye it back.

My family which consisted of my parents who were still unhappily married because they didn’t believe in divorce and my two elder sisters were devout Christians. We attended church every Sunday like a lot of Christian families did, but we didn’t stop there. My father worked a corporate job to put food on our table and keep a roof over our heads, but he spent the weekends volunteering at the church. My mother stayed at home to look after us but now that we were older–I was the youngest at nineteen–she also volunteered at the church. Her work consisted of mostly helping organise charity events, fundraisers, and things like that. Both my sisters were studying at our local college, but they had been part of the church choir since middle school. My parents always wanted me to join them, but I had always refused. My parents were disappointed, of course, but that was nothing new.

Not only was I the black sheep of the family, but I was also the embarrassment.

Like my parents, all their friends were super religious as well. To keep up pretences, they took all three of us along with them even though I always begged to be left at home. The last thing I wanted was to spend my time among all farts who constantly walked around like they had a permanent stick wedged up their ass, and made religion their whole personality instead of just a part of them.

Sure, I believed in God and a higher power up there, but I liked to live life on my terms, and not on the terms mapped out in an old book I could hardly make sense of.

I voiced my opinion at one of their friend’s birthday party this evening when asked, and my parents were so embarrassed and angry they shunned me to the car for the rest of the evening. Or well, they thought, but I ended up sneaking into the backyard where some of the more rebellious teenagers were passing around some alcohol and cigarettes. I wasn’t much of a smoker, but I could never say no to some alcohol, and that was exactly where my father found me he stepped outside to take a phone call.

To say that my parents were made would be an understatement.

In fact, they were so mad that they tried to ground me for a month, but I was nineteen. The only reason I hadn’t flown the nest already was because I didn’t have any moment and didn’t fancy being homeless. I’d much rather put up with having to listen to the Bible for another year or two than sleep on the streets.

“Do you know what time it is?”

I glanced at my phone. “It’s six past one in the morning, but you didn’t have to come into my room to ask the time.”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”

I tried to hide the illustrated paperback under the pillow, but my mother was quick. She grabbed the book and my phone out of my hands before I could do anything, and her eyes grew wide as they read the words on the page that I had left open.

Fuck!

“Miriam! How could you read such filth?”

“It’s not filth, mum. It’s just a book,” I sighed and tried to grab my belongings out of her hands, but she stepped back and hid them behind her back.

“More like the devil’s book,” she snorted and before I could stop her, she turned on her heel and marched out of my room and down the hall. “We’ll discuss this in the morning,” I heard her faintly say.

Without my phone and my book to finish the hot scene I was reading, I was left to the whims of my colourful imagination to take the edge off. It wasn’t the same, and my eyebrows really furrowed together to concentrate but once I imagined myself pinned between Mr Larsen, my old math teacher who always gave me detention for not doing my homework on time and looked devilishly handsome in a suit and tie, and Mr Hemmingway, the old librarian who appeared to have a kind, gentle soul, but I had spied him fucking one of the student librarians in the back when he thought the library was empty, I was racing toward my climax in no time.

As always, my body relaxed with a sated smile after the climax, and I burrowed under the sheets, finally ready to fall asleep.

If my parents knew about what I had just done, they would have sent me to the church to get doused in holy water to cleanse me of my sins.

I chuckled at the thought and allowed the post-orgasmic bliss to lull me to sleep.

-

Layla Knight

17.02.2023