A Punk Rock Girl & Distressed Priest

It was a balmy night, with gusty winds peppered by weak rain. Jesse marched clumsily down the dark and empty street, her heavy black boots clomping along beneath her, feeling the strong abandon of just enough booze in her blood as she sucked aimlessly on her cigarette.

The sound of the loud music from the bar was still playing in her head; she hummed along quietly without realizing it, one hand shoved in her black motorcycle jacket, the other trailing smoke. The wind raked through her wild black hair like the fingers of a lover.

She felt invincible.

But before she knew it, that weak rain had become somewhat stronger. A clap of thunder in the distance promised a serious shake-down.

Her first concern was that her cigarette would go out, but, looking down, she realized that it was virtually finished.

She tossed it on the sidewalk with silly enthusiasm and stomped on it, grinning.

The rain had become big, fat drops. It was starting to soak down to her scalp in a few places. She knew in a couple more minutes it would be pelting. She stood motionless for a moment, waiting for a whim to lead her.

Though she didn't much mind getting soaked, she still glanced up and down the street for available cover just to know her options.

She was intrigued to notice that the only light on the road, besides the garish street-lamps, was a very soft emanation from a church, not far ahead of her, and on her side of the street.

It was odd, being so late at night. The warm red and amber glow from the stained glass windows made it seem as if a service were about to start. She decided to check it out.

She ran up to the big wooden doors, making a racket that would have startled anyone near, if there had been anyone, and was surprised to find that the door opened right up.

She walked onto the thick red carpet of a wood-paneled vestibule, and took a look around.

Like most churches she had been in, it was cozy and beautiful inside. Everything was polished wood, elegant marble statues, flowers and colored glass.

A faint fragrance hung in the air, but there was no sound, and no one to be seen. She was instinctively quiet, vaguely wondering if she was about to offend someone by being there.

She also realized she was tracking water on the carpet, and promptly walked onto the wood instead. She soundlessly moved into the church, keeping inconspicuous, and admired the place.

When she walked into the nave, her eyes were naturally drawn to the massive crucified Christ hanging high on the far, center wall.

She kept near the back, where there was a heavy shadow, and plopped down on the floor. She could still see the spotlighted figure, hanging from the cross.

Not five seconds after she had sat, the unmistakable sound of a door opening broke the silence, and someone came into the room on the farthest side from her.

The sound of the person's footsteps was muted by the carpet, but she could tell by the slightest rustling of clothing, and the sounds of objects lightly connecting, that the person was moving about quickly.

She crawled forward and cautiously peeked up over the back pew, pretty confident that no one would see her, as the church was so large, and the person sounded engrossed in whatever they were doing.

It was a priest, dressed in a long black cassock.

He was tall, around six foot or so- though it was true that most men seemed tall to her, as she was pretty short.

He had thick black hair, and was in good health- evident by his energy and square shoulders. His manner made him seem vaguely distressed. She crept forward, in order to see him more clearly.

Once she had moved through more than half the space between them, she poked her head around one of the pews and got a better view.

He was most certainly distressed; it was evident in his expression. He seemed to stare off and through everything. His heavy brows were knitted, and his eyes seemed cast in shadow. His face was haggard, but handsome.

She guessed him to be around forty or so. There were small patches of grey in his hair right over his ears.

He went on placing ceremonial objects about the back of the church, occasionally rubbing at some smudge he perceived here and there.

There was a desperate air to it, though. He made no sound, and his expression was fixed. After some minutes of this, his movements degenerated into an absent-minded pacing.

Jesse was absolutely fascinated with him.

Finally, he stopped, and stood staring into nothing, as if he had drifted off far from this world. Then, to Jesse's wonder, a few tears suddenly ran down his face.

These tears brought several streams of others, and the priest hurried from the room, through a door a joining, as if he were ashamed.

In his hurry, he had left the door to the joining room slightly ajar, and Jesse followed silently through it, possessed by a mad feeling of fearless interest.

She crept up behind him in the small and dim room that seemed furnished for priests preparing to give sermon. He was kneeling on the floor, totally unaware of her presence, his face in his hands. His shoulders shook slightly and he made only the softest sounds.

Jesse walked as close to him as she dared, without alerting him. As he cried like a broken man, she felt the more distinct feeling of insolent lust rise up in her, lust for his bent and sorrowful form.

He cried for nearly five minutes, and then began to regain composure. He stood up with a sort of natural dignity and ritualistically began straightening himself up. Jesse was so close to him she could have helped.

He turned around, and saw her. A look of utter shock shot through his face and he jerked back with a sharp intake of breath.

Jesse stood stalk still and looked him right in the face. His look of shock was soon replaced with that of confusion, verging on anger, as she could see him running the last few minutes through his head, realizing what she had purposely witnessed.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Jesse gave him no chance. She walked forward aggressively.

He raised his hands up in a hesitantly defensive manner, as a barrier between them, but she merely grabbed one of his wrists and pulled it behind his back as she pressed her body into his.

She stood up on her tip-toes to kiss him, but he turned his head away. But she would have none of it, and grabbed onto the hair on the back of his head with her free hand to force his lips to hers.

His response was halting, but yielded slowly. Jesse kissed him passionately and pushed one of her legs between his two, wanting to press herself into every part of him. As she raised her leg into his groin, she felt it begin to stiffen against her thigh and was pleased.

He, however, was not. He put both hands on either of her shoulders and gently pushed her away.

She was filled with the sense of her own power and lust, and pushed forward roughly, mercilessly running a hand over his concealed hard-on. He gasped sharply and she could empathically feel his willpower falter as she stroked him up and down.

Capitalizing on his weakness, she grabbed one of his shoulders and he allowed her to push him to his knees.

She stared down into his face as he looked up at her with the most lovely, tormented eyes. She put her hand on his cheek and smiled.

She took two fingers and slid them against his lips softly. She circled his mouth a few times, taking delight in his obvious emotional turmoil.

Then, with depraved satisfaction, she pressed her two fingers into his mouth.

He allowed her to do this, though he flushed deeply. Turned on by his shame, she began to push her fingers in and out of his mouth, simulating phallacio. His mouth was warm and soft and wet, and Jesse took delight in the scrap of his teeth against her fingers.

Despite his shame, he began to reciprocate, sucking on her fingers without looking away.

The fact that he continued to look her in the eyes said to Jesse that he was a real man. Not only did it turn her on, but it also gave her even more respect for him.

She pushed her foot between his bent legs and felt that he still had a stiff hard-on. Unable to help himself anymore, he reached up to her, his fingers brushed her stomach.

Jesse leaned in closer so he could touch her more easily. He reached up and pressed her breasts through her shirt, but she grabbed his hand and forced it between her legs.

Suddenly, he seized her by the waist and pulled her down to the floor with him. Jesse opened her legs and straddled his kneeling form in a crouched position, while throwing her arms around him in a crushing embrace, kissing him wildly.

He met her with the same passion, and she pushed his back to the floor. He jostled her like a doll as he straightened out his legs beneath her, and he reached up under her ragged black t-shirt to squeeze her breasts tightly.

He sat up again, and pressed his mouth to them. She clutched his head and felt her back arch as he bit her nipples. She let out a little gasp.

She was wet now, and aching for him to plunge into her. Images of crucifixion nails whirled through her head, in tune with her arousal.

Suddenly, she imagined nailing him to a cross, blood pouring out of his wrists, a look of anguish on his face. She was, again, aroused by the idea of his suffering, and the depravity of the thought. She wanted to penetrate him for real. But would he let her?

She pushed him away roughly, and got up to crouch behind him, putting a hand in his hair. She pushed him to kneel in front of her, and to her excitement, he allowed it.

She pressed his face into the carpet. She tossed his cassock up over his back and yanked his underwear down, exposing his white and vulnerable body. A sort of yielding apprehension emanated from him, delighting her.

She put her free hand between his legs and caressed his concrete hard-on. The word "Cock," ran through her head repeatedly.

She brought her hand upwards in order to penetrate him. Despite his relative silence, he tensed up in anticipation and she pressed two fingers into his anus.

He made barely any noise. With a wash of satisfaction, she let go of his hair and gripped one of his shoulders. She began pushing in and out of him rhythmically.

Before long she was pushing into him with considerable force. His breathing had picked up, in an impassioned way. But Jesse longed to push into him harder.

She quickly scanned the room for something she might use.

Not surprisingly, the first thing that caught her eye was a large golden cross, hanging on the wall directly in front of them. It struck her as deliciously wicked, and she could see it was in good proportion for her purpose.

She pulled out of him and got up quickly and said in a kind tone, "Wait for me." She marched over to the wall and yanked the glittering object from it.

She was pleased to see he hadn't moved at all when she turned back to him, he had even kept his face pressed to the carpet. She walked back behind him and knelt down. She caressed him again, down over his hard-on, up over his buttocks and onto his back.

An idea sprang into her mind. Acting upon it, she balled up some of the fabric from the back of his cassock in her fist and pulled it towards herself firmly. He made a lovely choking sound. She pushed her fingers into him again, this time violently. He gasped.

She pulled out of him, and gripped the top of the golden cross in her hand, pressing the long, bottom portion of it against his anus. It took considerable force to press it into him, and when it finally broke into his body, he made a suppressed cry, followed by an uncontrollable, pained moan as she forced it into him as far as it would go without pause.

He began to gasp very hard. She squeezed the cross and jammed it back and forth inside him.

He couldn't help his now constant sounds of pain. Suddenly remembering his cassock, she grabbed the back of it again and jerked it towards her sharply. His voice was cut off into a strangled way.

She pulled harder, against the violent thrusts of penetration. She felt a hot, wet pain between her legs at the sound of his wheezing, choked breaths.

"Cry for me, Father," she said in a commanding whisper.

At her command, he did, indeed, make a sound that resembled weeping.

She felt that hot pain between her legs shoot up into an awful, unbearable strain- only to almost instantly break into the indescribable pleasure of climax.

He was now shaking violently and attempting to breathe in quick, short little gasps. She could tell he, too, was about to cum. She held tightly to his cassock and brought her jabs to a vicious peak.

Only moments later he made a loud choked cry, his whole body quaked, and he seemed to go limp.

She pulled the cross from him gently, laying it unmindfully on the carpet. She leaned into him, taking his back into her arms, and pulled him over.

He turned to her in a disoriented way, and when she was leaning over his face he kissed her passionately. He grabbed what felt like her whole body in a powerful embrace, and Jesse straddled his crumpled lap, feeling consumed by his emotion.

Jesse was still full of wild desire for him, but considered it unlikely that he could go again. One way or the other, she didn't care. She struggled to pull off her shirt through his demanding clutches.

He kissed her over every emerging piece of bare flesh, as she frantically yanked the cloth away. His teeth grazed her, and finally closed upon her all around. She made wild, babyish gasps and began gyrating against his crotch.

Soon, to her surprise, she was moving against a decided, tantalizing stiffness. She couldn't believe it! She once again felt that hot, wet pain between her legs that demanded penetration.

She spread her legs wide against him, then pushed away from him firmly, so that she could fall down on the floor onto her back as she desperately yanked her boots, jeans and panties off, keeping her legs spread so he could see her.

He knocked his body in between her bent legs and put his fingers on her, sliding them up and down her wet and aching softness.

She made a demanding noise, and he shoved his fingers into her, opening her up. His rock-hard erection quickly followed like the thrust of a sword.

Jesse made a girlish, squealing moan and he began thrusting in an out of her like a machine.

Jesse threw her hands up onto his back and dug her nails into him, pulling him down upon her, relishing the relentless plunge into her body.

She continued to make wild, animalistic moans, and took pleasure in clawing him and pulling his hair.

A mindless, euphoric depravity possessed her and she began to whisper to him, over and over, "Jesus loves you, Father," in a child-like, gasping voice- taunting him like some demon.

She grabbed one of his large, hot hands and bit him cruelly. He made an agonized cry and began shaking again in the same way as he had before, near climax.

He suddenly grabbed her by the throat with both hands and squeezed so tightly that her vision clouded in an instant, his thrusting peaking in a crazed violence.

Jesse cam so fast she made a weird, strangled cry of her own. He, too, let out a strange, tormented wail and collapsed upon her.

They both lay there for a moment, breathing hard. Jesse stared up at the off-white ceiling, sweaty and thoughtless. She felt the warmth of his gasping, heavy body pressed upon her and was flooded with pure admiration and joy.

After some moments of lying there, she finally laughed merrily, and gently pushed him onto his back, so that he, too, could stare up at the ceiling.

She got up to get dressed.

Her smile beamed like the sun as she yanked on her underwear, then her pants, and clumsily began to button her fly.

However, she could see that he was not beaming, nor was he smiling at all. No, he was still staring. His expression had turned serious again. He was clearly beginning to feel the heavy burden of guilt.

As adorable as that was, Jesse was not at all pleased. To help remedy it, she plopped down on the floor and crawled over top of him, grinning into his face.

She looked him in the eyes and ran the fingers of her clean hand through his hair and over his cheeks.

His brow stayed furrowed, but she could feel that her efforts at comforting him were having their effect. She knew he would be just fine. The sooner he stopped thinking about it, the better.

"You're wonderful," she said, pecking him on the cheek.

He seemed to brighten a bit, despite himself.

Victorious, Jesse sprang back to her feet to find her boots. She suspected that one day he would look back on this moment fondly, and believed that any guilt he might suffer for it was probably worth the pleasure of the experience.

Once she was dressed, she started for the door.

"Wait!" he said, sitting up immediately, with a look of alarm, "Where are you going?"

She grinned at him, her hand on the doorknob, "To hell, probably," she replied, and with a triumphant laugh, banged out of the room.