Fallibel

Bernard was still ****, but the woman would take that out of him. She mercilessly pressed his face into her lap.

He smelled her pungent scent. The strong aroma enveloped his senses. He closed his eyes and his ears roared with his blood. His closed lips couldn't help but press against her nether lips. He could feel the wetness spreading there.

Involuntarily, he licked up a drop of her nectar. He tasted bitterness. And more. It was an exciting, intriguing mixture. Not off-putting, as he had anticipated.

His **** caress elicited a soft moan from her. She only clawed harder into his hair and hissed, "Yes, that's what I want. You're a quick learner. Keep going!"

Bernard didn't want it. It was so wrong. And yet he obeyed her command. What kind of power did she wield over him?

Or was it something about himself that made him give in? Were hidden, long-suppressed desires breaking through to the surface? Ever since he had decided to take the path to ordination, he had not allowed himself to think of women in this way. Even before that, his strict Catholic upbringing had prevented him from dealing with the opposite sex as only a husband and wife should.

Occasionally he had dreams that confused him. When he woke up in a sweat and felt the wetness that testified to the weakness and sinfulness of his body, he was overcome with guilt. He then scourged himself and asked his Father in heaven for forgiveness for his sins. Only when he was exhausted and unable to mortify himself any further, when he sank down on the ice-cold stone floor in front of the altar and surrendered himself flat with outstretched arms to the Lord's mercy, did his conscience calm down and he felt a deep love and contentment within himself that was stronger than any other feeling he had ever experienced.

He cursed himself and his fallibility as he licked up the woman's lust, moaning as she **** herself upon him.

How Bernard would have liked to convince himself that he couldn't act any differently, that it was she who was making him behave in a way that contradicted his deepest convictions. But he couldn't.

He couldn't lie to himself. With all the sins he had brought upon himself, he didn't want to also break the ninth commandment. No, he couldn't dump the responsibility for his actions on the stranger, no matter how much his instinct for self-preservation suggested exactly that. She was perhaps the stone that set the avalanche rolling. The cause of his disgusting misbehavior lay entirely with himself.

Meanwhile, he licked his tongue over the seductive wetness, feeling the softness of the woman, the yielding and unevenness of her labia, the growing heat she radiated. He had no experience of such things and unconsciously followed the feedback from her body and her voice.

Full of shame and guilt, he realized how his own body reacted to the intimate togetherness. The more he resisted and tried to push back the unwanted reaction, the stronger it became. His male member grew to a size he had never consciously noticed before and throbbed painfully. It almost seemed as if it wanted to burst the textile covering.

The woman moaned lustfully and looked down at him superiorly from above.

"You're doing well!"