By: Ryan Michaels
The afternoon light filtered
softly through the bedroom blinds as my boyfriend looked down at me, his
expression a mix of playfulness and intent.
"Go get naked and lie down
on the bed on your stomach," he instructed. "I'm going to take a
quick shower first,
I smiled, feeling a familiar
warmth rise. "I'll join you in the shower instead," I countered.
"Maybe you can even fuck me in there."
He shook his head, a knowing grin spreading across his face. "No," he said softly. "I know how much you want it, that you've been waiting all day for cock in your ass. But wouldn't it be even more exciting for you to lie there on your stomach, completely naked, with your legs spread, feeling the cool air against your hole and waiting with total anticipation for me to walk in and then feel it slide right into you?"
The thought alone sent a shiver
through me. The wait would be torture, but the payoff would be worth it. I
nodded in agreement before he disappeared into the bathroom. Silence settled
over the bedroom as I began to strip out of my clothes, broken only by the hum
of the running shower. Grabbing the lube from the bedside table drawer, I
greased myself up, then got onto the bed on my stomach. Full of anticipation, I
took a breath and let the tension—and the heat—build, counting down the moments
until he came back.
About ten long minutes later, the
bedroom door clicked open. He climbed onto the bed behind me, leaning down so
his breath brushed against my ear.
"Are you ready to get
fucked?" he whispered.
Before I could answer, a sleep
mask slipped over my eyes, plunging me into sudden darkness. I gasped softly.
"Oh... you've never done anything like this before."
"You like it, don't
you?" he murmured, grabbing first one, then the other of my wrists and
bringing them behind my back.
"Yes," I breathed as he
tied them securely before moving off the bed.
Standing at the foot of the bed, he
reached down and spread my legs wider apart. I heard the pop of the lube bottle,
then, a moment later, his voice. "Do you want this cock in your ass?"
he asked.
"Yes!" I practically
cried out.
I felt the mattress go down behind
me, then the tip of his cock touching my ass crack.
"Beg for it," he said, his
voice commanding and teasing.
"Please!" Fuck me! Oh, God,
please! I need your cock inside me so bad! Fuck me, please!" I begged.
The head slipped through my crack and against my hole. I felt the familiar pressure start to push against it and the head popping through my barrier. I let out a deep moan, but as his cock continued to push its way inside, a sudden, jarring realization hit me: it was moving deeper, filling me in a way my boyfriend never quite managed.
"What the fuck?" I
blurted out, panic spiking. My heart pounded, a full-blown freak-out taking
hold.
I felt the mattress go down
beside my head, and my boyfriend's voice filled the air. "The guy is nine
inches," he said, his voice steady.
The panic warred with an
overwhelming wave of shock and shock-induced arousal as a stranger loomed
behind me. We had talked about this, but I had always thought it was just a
fantasy we shared. We had never discussed actually doing something like this
for real.
When the stranger was told to let
me feel every bit of that nine-inch cock, any remaining protest I might have
had died right in my throat, replaced by an involuntary moan.
My boyfriend placed a hand on my shoulder before speaking again. "Fuck him," he urged the stranger on. "Fuck him
harder."
The friction was intense—his large
cock pushed me right to the edge of pain before setting off an explosive wave
of pleasure. With my boyfriend quietly coaxing him on from the side, the
stranger set an unyielding pace, pounding into me with uninhibited force. I
could feel the power of his big cock as he pumped it in and out of me, using my
hole purely for his own pleasure.
His endurance was incredible. Five minutes went
by before his low, hushed voice broke the silence, signaling he was about to cum. I felt his cock slide out of my ass, leaving my asshole gapping
and suddenly feeling so empty, then the release of weight as he stepped off the mattress, followed by a
heavy sink beside my head as he repositioned himself right in front of my face.
Still sitting next to me on the bed,
I felt my boyfriend's breath on my skin as he leaned into me, his mouth by my
ear. "Do you want the load from that nine-inch cock?" he whispered.
"Yes," I panted desperately.
"Open your mouth for
it," he said as he held my head up and my mouth open.
A split second later, a gush of
hot cum spilled across my tongue, followed by several more, without the
stranger's cock ever touching me directly.
"Keep your mouth open," my boyfriend
commanded. "Savor every drop of it." The mattress lifted as the
stranger moved away, his
footsteps soft against the floor. A second later, my boyfriend's hands grasped the sleep
mask and removed it, exposing my eyes to the light.
As my eyes blinked open, I turned
my head to find my boyfriend sitting next to me, still fully dressed. He placed
a hand gently under my chin, signaling me to close my mouth while
simultaneously pressing a gentle kiss to my lips, parting them to take a
portion of the stranger's cum onto his own tongue as well.
For a long moment, we shared the
taste before finally swallowing.
As we caught our breath, he
laughed softly, admitting how he had calculated the whole thing—knowing I would
be furious at first about being surprised by a stranger, but equally certain I
would surrender to it, turning the lack of permission into its own kind of
thrill.
"What's taking him so long
in the bathroom?" I finally asked, restless and desperate to see what the
man who had just taken my ass looked like.
"Don't worry, he'll be gone
soon," my boyfriend said.
"Gone? He's not coming back
in here?"
My boyfriend shook his head.
"But I want to see who just fucked
me!" I protested.
"Where's the fun in
that?" he chuckled.
"It was hot not knowing
while it was happening, but now I want to know," I told him.
"You don't get to
know," he replied.
"Why not?" I pressed,
insisting I had every right to know who had just fucked me.
He stayed silent, a knowing smile
crossing his face, until the realization slowly began to dawn on me: the only
reason he would hide his identity is if it was someone I knew.
"Who is it?" I
demanded, sitting up, my pulse racing all over again. "Tell me right now.
Who was in here? Who just fucked me?"
He just watched me, a maddeningly
calm smile on his face as he leaned back against the headboard.
"You're not going to drop
this, are you?" he asked, though he didn't sound surprised in the least.
"No, I am not," I
snapped. "You let a stranger into our house, you had him fuck me without
my consent, and now you're playing games? Who the hell was it?"
"If I tell you," he
murmured, reaching out to lazily trace a finger down my arm, "you're going
to lose your mind."
"Try me."
He leaned in close, bringing his
mouth right to my ear. He whispered a name.
I pulled back, frowning in
confusion. "Who?"
He held my gaze for a long,
agonizing moment, weighing the chaos his answer was about to unleash, and said
the name again. Only this time, he preceded it with a single, definitive word.
The name hung in the quiet
bedroom air, heavy and impossible to undo, instantly changing the shape of
everything that had just happened. My breath caught in my throat, my mind
reeling as the horrifying, electric reality of who had just been standing over
me finally set in.
"Father Tom?!"
The silence that followed was
deafening. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out everything else as the
sheer gravity of what had just taken place crashed down on me. The man who had
worn the collar, who had listened to confessions and spoken of grace from the
pulpit, had just been lying on top of me in the dark, filling my ass with his
cock.
"You're out of your
mind," I whispered, my voice trembling as I stared at my boyfriend,
searching his face for any sign of a joke, a smirk, a tell. But his expression
remained completely still, dead serious and impossibly calm.
"Am I?" he asked
quietly, reaching out to gently touch my cheek. "You didn't stop him. In
fact, you begged for more."
My skin burned with a sudden,
searing flush of shame and a wicked, corrupting thrill that made my stomach
twist into knots. The sanctity of the church, the quiet reverence of Sunday
mornings, all of it flashed through my mind, violently colliding with the
memory of the heavy weight and the deep, relentless thrusts that had pummeled
my hole.
"He doesn't know you
know," my boyfriend added quickly, his gaze locking onto mine with a
sudden, sharp warning. "And you can never let him know. He can't ever find
out that I told you."
The directive landed like a
second blow. I stared at him, my mind spinning out of control. "You expect
me to just... go back there? Sit in the pew? Look him in the eye?"
"Why not?" my boyfriend
asked smoothly, his hand sliding back down to rest soothingly on my bare leg.
"Nothing has to change on Sundays. Except now, every single time he
speaks, every time he offers communion or preaches about forgiveness, you'll
both know the kind of worship that really happened behind closed doors."
The sheer audacity of it left me
breathless. A dark, electric shiver raced down my spine, the panic slowly
giving way to a dangerous, inescapable curiosity about what our next Sunday
morning would actually feel like.
The heavy silence of the bedroom
settled back around us, broken only by the steady ticking of the clock on the
nightstand, the initial shock slowly cooling into a strange, heavy numbness.
"You're insane," I
whispered into the quiet, though the anger had completely drained out of me,
replaced by the dizzying weight of a secret too dangerous to keep and too
impossible to share.
My boyfriend just smiled faintly,
pulling me close as if everything were entirely normal. "Maybe," he
murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. "But Sunday is coming."
I closed my eyes, knowing he was
right. The sanctuary would look the same, the hymns would sound the same, and
the man in the vestments would stand at the altar with quiet dignity. But as I
lay there in the dark, still feeling the effects of my priest's cock in my
asshole and the taste of his cum lingering on my tongue, I knew that every
glance and every whispered prayer would carry an entirely different meaning
from now on.
©2026 by Ryan Michaels
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