I was never really religious. I listened to metal music and eventually took on a satanic tone. I always appreciated religion. It was the only thing that could unite thousand and tear apart millions. The only times I went to church was for weddings and funerals. My friend, Angelo, knew this, but still wanted me to go to church with him. I went a few times with him, It was a huge church for how small the audience was. It was in the middle of nowhere, a 10 mile distance to the next town, which was only a couple of houses, an abandoned general store, and a field. The whole area was surrounded by trees and mountains, sheltering it from the cities. I lived about on the edge of the country. This gave me an hour drive to the Christian church and a short walk to Angelo's.

Angelo was one of the only reasons I left my house. I worked from home as I financial advisor to an online business. I wasn't married, or even in a relationship, so I was alone when I was home. I had a cat when I first moved here, but she died a month in.

It was nice living so close to one of my high school friends. We would hang out almost every night, watching movies, trying new recipes together, even just laughing at stupid things on our phones.  A couple of months back, he killed himself.  I cried for days and day, leaving the house for his funeral and going to church.  A week later, I was doing better and went out for drinks.  A single hook up lead to two, then three, then four, then getting paid for it, and becoming the local prostitute.  After that I drowned myself between whoring around and church.  During the day, Monday through Saturday I was an accountant.  At night I was a whore.  Then on Sundays I was a good little church girl.  

I wasn't really a girl.  I wore dresses and booty shorts and had a habit of wearing excessive amounts of makeup.  My regular customers understood this and didn't mind the fact I had a dick.  All of them liked it to some extent.

I was late to church this morning, catching just the end of the Father Chris' speech.  He wasn't a typical priest to say the least.  He was young to start, 30 at the max.  The skin that peaked out from under his suit was all tattooed and pale.  He had long black hair, black painted nails and black tunnels in his ear lobes.  His voice was amazing, I swore that I heard it somewhere before I had met him, but I couldn't place it.  I could listen to him for hours.  It was always the same, he would talk about anything recent in the news and connect it to the bible.  When the ceremony ended he would find me as the other people left.  It was always the same conversation.  The basic 'how are you' and 'let me know if you ever want to talk'.  I felt like I could trust him on some level, but not to the point when I would ever truly confide in him like Angelo.

"Beautiful. Isn't it?" Father Chris said as he sat on the end of the pew I was laying on. He snapped me out of my train of thought quickly, making me feel guilty for thinking about him like that. I had been there for a couple of hours, having an existential crisis as I studied the beautifully painted ceiling.

"Yes, you are." I joked as I sat up and wiped the tears from my cheeks. I slumped into Father's side, to which he rested one of his rather large hands on my knee. This pushed the edge of my pencil skirt up slightly, but neither of us thought twice about it. He was more hands-on than the average priest, hugging people and kissing their heads after blessing them.

"What have you been thinking about?" He asked as he rested his head on top of mine. I kicked my stilettos around as they laid at my feet.

"Too much." I responded with a sniffle. I felt Father move to get something out of his pocket before he held it out for me to see. Between his tattooed fingers was a ripped piece of paper with my name and number on it, the type of business card I left behind after some of my hook ups.

"I can help you get it off your mind for a while." He offered as his hand slid up my thigh more. I lifted my head from his shoulder as I stared at him in shock for a moment. He raised his drawn on eyebrows at me, waiting for my response.

"You're a priest." I pointed out. He shrugged his shoulders and stood up, offering a hand to me. I slipped my shoes on and grabbed my purse before taking it. He helped me up before moving his other hand to my waist.

"Only on Sundays." Father said with a smirk as he guided me closer to him. I felt safe in his arms, but also intrigued to his offer. I nodded and allowed him to escort me out of the church.  He opened the heavy wooden door for me, the cold breeze hitting me like a truck.  The winters in upstate New York could be brutal, but thank god this one was coming to an end.  I felt Father drape his jacket over my shoulders, leaving himself in a black button up that made him look more relaxed and relatable.

Our cars were the only two in the parking lot, mine being a Volkswagen GTI and his being an old Chevy Impala.  He opened the passenger's door for me, closing it behind me.  I buckled myself in and dropped my purse to the bench seat, also kicking off my shoes.  I kept Father's jacket over my shoulders, regretting the short skirt and thin blouse I wore.

"Father... there's something I should tell you..." I trailed off as he started the car and immediately turned on the heat.  He rested his hand on my leg again as we pulled out of the gravel patch and onto the paved road. 

"Hun, you don't have to call me 'father' when we're not in church, Chris is fine.  I'm sure that whatever you have to say will not change my view on you." His voice was soothing and made me relax.  I lifted his hand off me before taking a deep breath.

"I'm male." I huffed out quickly, watching him for any sort of reaction.  He laughed quietly, returning his hand to its previous position.  We turned off the main road and onto one that wined up the mountain we were at the base of.  

"I know about that.  Tight skirts show boners easily and you don't exactly try to hide them." Chris slowly moved his hand until it was firmly positioned between my legs, but still on top of my skirt.  I could tell I was blushing, it was hard not to be.  With every bump we hit in the road, his palm rubbed against me.  I was embarrassed with how easily I was being turned on by this.  I had to clench my teeth to keep from moaning.  As we pulled up to Chris' house, I took a quick glance at his crotch, seeing a large but not very prominent bulge.

"Let me carry you." He demanded as he quickly climbed out of the car and came to my door.  First he took my purse and shoes before bending down and offering his arms to me.  I looked at the ground which still held a healthy layer of snow and ice.  Cautiously I leaned against Chris and he easily lifted me.  I let out a little squeak as he abruptly pulled me up against his chest further.  He took his front stair under his feet two at a time, trying to get us inside as quickly as possible.  He shifted me partially onto his hip as he took one hand off of me and pulled his keys out of his pants pocket.  He popped the wooden door open, carrying me into the entry way.  The interior of his house was mission style which complimented the wood and glass exterior nicely.  He carried me to the sunken in living room, setting me on the leather couch.

"Do you want anything to drink? Eat? Something more comfortable to change into?" Chris asked as he returned to the foyer.  I turned to see him set my items down before lingering by the kitchen.

"No thank you." I said quietly as I looked around a bit more.  There were several picture frames on the mantel that was between two sets of enormous picture windows.  They held pictures of Chris and another guy that was small compared to him.

"My home is yours so please relax." Chris said politely as he walked to me and started to undress himself.  First he pulled off his collar, dropping it on the coffee table.  Then it was his belt which he hung around his neck.  He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing more tattoos.  I gawked at his colored muscles, stunned by the artwork.  He dropped his shirt to the floor before offering me a hand again.  As I stood, he pulled at the back of my blouse, untucking it from my skirt.  I let him undo the closures before pulling it from my shoulders.  He inhaled sharply before running both his hands down my spine, making me shiver.  He twiddled the clip of my bra, letting it drop to our feet.  He yanked at the back of my skirt, getting it past my hips before bending down and letting me step out of it.   Once he stood back up, he dropped his pants and kicked them to the side.  He sat down on the coffee table and kicked off his socks, stayed there for a minute, staring up at me with a small smirk on his face. 

"Are you sure you don't mind this?" Chris asked as he rested his hands on my hips, slipping his fingers under the sting of my thong.  I nodded, to which he smiled and stood up.  He ran his hands over my ass and lifted me up, carrying me through his house.  He dropped me on his squishy bed, allowing  me to look around his dark room.  

"Lube? Condom? Ropes? Chains? What do you like?" Chris asked as he opened a closet, showing off harnesses, paddles and so many kinky items that I would've guessed that he was a slave owner, not a priest.  

"Just lube and whatever you like." I told him as he started selecting different items and holding them in his arms.  He dropped all of the things on the bed, allowing me to look at them for a minute.  He went to his bed side table and plugged his phone into a dock.  The music that began to play took me by surprise, considering it was 'Communion of the Cursed' by Ice Nine kills.  He came back over to me, immediately yanking off my thong and ridding me of my thigh-high tights.  He stroke me a few times before slipping a cock ring on me.  He stripped his boxers off, showing his sizable member.  He grabbed a harness and held it up.  I nodded and he began to direct my limbs into the complex web of leather and metal.  It was tight on me, giving me minimal ability of movement. 

"Lay on your stomach, please." Chris asked nicely.  I complied to his demand and rolled over, linking my hands behind my back.  I felt Chris' belt wrap around my forearms, pulling them together and keeping them bound to the harness.  

"Safe word is beetlejuice." Chris said from behind me as I felt him pull my ass into the air and tuck my legs under me.  He leaned against me, his hard on pressing into my ass as he pushed a ball gag between my teeth.  I felt him strap it behind my head before pulling me over his lap and spanking me.  I kicked my feet up in surprise and arched my back, to which Chris used one of his hands to force my stomach down onto his thigh.  I could feel him growing harder against my side with every time he hit me.  

Chris spanked me several more times before rubbing my rear soothingly. He lifted me up and moved me to his side, straddling my bum.  I felt him pour cool gel down my ass.  I shivered as he gently ran his hands down my lower back, letting out a muffled scream when he slammed into me.  My walls stretched and fit around his massive cock like a glove.  He fucked me roughly to the pace of the song, making me moan as he struck my prostate.  I was throbbing, wanting to cum so badly.  Chris pulled out of me and flipped me on my back before sliding back in.  He cringed slightly as he got close, pushing down on my stomach as the song changed.  It was the same type of dark metal, only sexier.  I moaned loudly as he pounded into me, my voice cutting out every time he hit me just right.  He let out a low groan as he released inside of me, making me scream with denied pleasure.  He pulled out of me and grabbed a butt plug, forcing it into my abused hole.  

Chris crawled down my body, taking me into his mouth.  He sucked on my tip, making me whine.  He took my whole member into his mouth, making me go down his throat.  I continued to let out little whimpers, squirming around until Chris lifted himself off of me and yanked the ring off my cock.  He put his mouth back over my member, stroking me a couple of times before I released.  Chris came up to my eye level, quickly unbuckling the ball gag before forcing his lips to mine. My seed dripped into my own mouth as Chris started to free me from the bindings.  Once my hands were free, I lifted them to his hips, feeling good to have some control over myself.  

"Will you stay for a little while?" He asked me, pulling away and climbing off of me.  I couldn't think of an excuse to decline the offer, so I nodded, still breathless.  Chris smiled widely, obviously happy. 

This chapter has been written for a kinky fuckhole that I will never talk to again.  Happy birthday to the only person who could and will ever be lesbian raccoon, wiener boi, rick dick, ass eater, and Richard Allen Olson III.  Any way. 2ndSucksDick is signing off.