Forbidden Desires Collection

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The Nun

Warning: if you’re religious and easily offended, do not read this story. Then again, what would you be doing here if you weren’t after the Forbidden? Cheeky bastards.

Sister Shelly walked into the quiet room to do her daily prayers but stopped short in crossing herself when she noticed Father Damian at the Cross.
She’d been a part of the Convent since birth and had taken her vows two months prior. The Father hardly visited the Convent as men were banned from the premises, but when he did Shelly usually avoided the man.
At thirty, the Father had his own Parish for the last five years and Shelly had wanted him for as long.
It was wrong to have sexual urges but they couldn’t be helped. Biology sometimes overshadowed religion. A few Hail Marys and she was back in God's good graces.
As Father Damian unfolded his large body off the floor he heard the soft click-click of Nuns shoes hitting the floor. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. It was her prayer hour.
Sister Shelly. The Barbie of the Nuns as he'd like to call her. Tall with blond wisps framing her flawless face under her habit and dark blue eyes that made even the most religious of men's knees weak. Her lips promised fulfilment, the full pillows plump.
His unholy thoughts were masked by his flowing black robe as he turned to face her. She was worrying her lip between perfect white teeth as she watched him through dark blonde lashes.
She was the delinquent of the Convent, a Maria if you would. She could make a man take the Lord's name in vain and not give two Hail Marys.
“Sister Shelly, how fare you?” he asked in the voice that always overtook him when she was around, rough with barely contained want.
“I'm well, Father, and you?” she asked, her voice sweet as sugar and soft as a whisper. He groaned inwardly as her lips moved and pursed on the last word.
He was still a warm-blooded man who, even though he studied Theology, fucked himself into oblivion at college parties. He enjoyed women before he took his vow of celibacy five years ago.
Shelly was enough enticement to break that vow here and now, and at six years his junior it would be consensual.
Her eyes spoke volumes as she crossed herself and walked into the room with the deliberate slowness instilled in the Nuns when they took their vows.
As she neared, Shelly noticed the slight tenting of Father Damian's robes and she bit back a smile. She wasn’t as untouched as the Nuns should be. She did attended school outside of the Convent.
She knew Father Damian was aroused and planned to take advantage of it. She wanted him, too.
“I’m well, Sister.” His eyes tracked her as she walked toward the live-size cross and Son of God at the front of the room and she saw the front of his robe twitch as she sank to her knees.
His grey eyes were dark with desire.
He didn’t know this, but Shelly had just entered High School when he'd graduated and she’d wanted him ever since. She was smart but because of her Barbie looks, she was highly underestimated and had skipped a grade.
Heat bloomed in her core as he took a step toward her and then another. He stopped only when his erection was in line with her face. She bit her lip as her eyes hooked onto the sight from her peripherals.
Damian couldn’t stand it anymore. Five years of seeing her every month and not being able to do anything had his cock at attention and crying for attention beneath his black robe. She had gone to her knees with a practiced grace that wasn’t due to saying her prayers.
She’d taken advantage of her freedom years before taking her vows. He'd been witness to them.
Damian tried to stop his feet from crossing to her and when that failed and his cock was in line with her lips, he turned and walked to close the door.
When he turned around, his breath got stuck midway out of his lungs. Shelly had stripped her habit off her head and the white-blonde waves cascaded down her back and over her robe-covered breasts.
He watched as her hands went to the back of her robes and undid them, allowing the loose material to fall into her arms.
Damian quickly followed suit, not needing anything more than her silent plea. He inhaled sharply when her perfect breasts were exposed, the pink nipples at the tips tight with desire.
His cock jumped at the sudden freedom as he discarded his robe to the side and she threw hers over her shoulder.
The distance between them was crossed in the blink of an eye and Damian's lips crashed down on hers, her lips softer than he could have imagined.
She moaned softly against him as her hands hungrily ran over his shoulders, back, ass and hips. He almost came against her stomach when she started grinding against him, her pussy wet against his thigh.
His hands did a little exploring themselves as they curved around the perfectly real, God-given double D breasts that she hid beneath her clothes. His mouth left hers only to duck and close around her nipple, tearing a moan from her.
“Silence, Sister. We do not want an audience,” he said and the reminder of her occupation only succeeded in hardening the rod between his legs further.
“Very true, Father,” she gasped and slid her hand between them and onto his velvet-covered steel shaft.
Not able to take the onslaught of pent-up desire and longing any more, Damian picked Shelly up and wrapped her legs around his waist before he walked to the table in the corner of the room.
Her slim body covered about fifty percent of the table and he covered her with his body, pulling back his hips and preparing to enter her.
“I'm no virgin Mary, Father. I fucking need you,” she said and the curse urged his hips forward.
Shelly bit her cheek until she tasted blood to stop the scream from ripping through her. She came around Father Damian's cock as he slammed into her roughly. His grunt gave her a sense of satisfaction that she wasn’t the only one trying not to make a sound.
He twitched inside of her and her walls clenched around him hard.
Her legs hung over the edge of the table, split wide by his hips as he slung a knee over hers, resting on the short table. The change of position drove him deeper into her and she couldn’t stop the moan from drifting out of her throat.
Damian fought back a loud groan as Shelly immediately came around him. The stimulation of being filled was enough to drive the sex-deprived woman over the edge quickly.
Pride filled him and he didn’t care that it was a sin. He'd given her something no one in the Convent could give her and he wasn’t about to stop.
The urgent need to move overwhelmed Damian and he obliged. He started slamming into the welcoming, wet heat of Shelly's tight pussy, his way slick with her juices. With one of her legs pinned to the table by one of his, she wrapped the free leg around his waist.
As the occasional moan or grunt filled the room alongside the wet slapping of flesh against flesh, Damian was pushed higher and higher.
He was surprised as he kept moving through Shelly's orgasms rolling through her in continuous waves of pleasure.
He felt the familiar, yet unfamiliar, tightening of his balls as they drew up to his body, a sheen of sweat appearing over the expanse of his back. Soft grunts started leaving his lips as he thrust into her, his orgasm nearing with alarming speed.
Her body arched off of the table as her orgasm ripped through her and milked his right out of his shaft. Damian grunted into her neck as his cock spurted hot jets deep into her.
“Thank you, Father,” she whispered as she got her breath back.
“No, thank you, Sister,” he muttered before kissing her neck.
Father Damian and Sister Shelly were both rethinking their vows while they got dressed, seeing the perfect planes of the other's body disappearing under the black robes of their shared faith.
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