No blame should attach to telling the truth. But it does, it does. - Anita Brookner

‘Ignosce mihi, Pater, quia peccavi.’

I mumble the words against the softness of your inner thigh. It is, I think, my announcement to God that this sin is utterly carnal, intentional and totally within my power. Latin makes you wet anyhow, doesn’t it pet? You love it when I whisper Spanish in your ear, my broken French, my harsh German tongue - but Latin, it makes you melt as only a Catholic would understand. Such a violation of those edicts we are taught as children. An act that could only be made better were it on the alter where we accept his flesh, his blood into our bodies. I’m certain that memory is fresh in your mind. The divine cloth is still folded in my closet - stained with both of our fluids.

Your hands sink into my hair, urging me closer. Your entire body ripples in invitation. The movement of your hips is lewd, utterly enticing. My palms cup the curve of your calves and slowly slide upwards until my fingers brush the backs of your knees and cause a vibration to echo under the thin shell of your skin. I smile, turning my face so that the small whiskers that have formed on my chin over the day can molest your tender flesh. My hands slide around and languidly push your knees further apart, my thumbs lightly stroking the curve of your knee.

My breath is hot against your body, my lips brush light kisses punctuated by the sting of whiskers and my soft laugh each time goosebumps erupt. I can smell your scent. It acts as an aphrodisiac, calling me, luring me to commit further sins of the flesh. I burn.

Your eyes are closed, your body is sinking further down on the sofa, and your hair trails out in a long wave of black that streams over the cushions. It would seem that you’ve surrendered yourself to my will were it not for the subtle demands of your fingers which grows as my lips near closer to your sex. My tongue rakes a wet path along your thigh, tracing the small juncture of your thigh and sex. A moan boils from your lips as my teeth lightly scrape against your skin. There is another tremor in your body and your back arches like a bow, filled with tension.

‘Que quieres?’ The question is whispered as my breath falls on your mound, the wet slit that punctuates the fluid movements of your body.

‘Te necesito.’ I growl softly at the unexpected answer and bite a small patch of skin above your slit. Your fingers tighten further, your heels moving from the floor to my thigh, pushing up, digging in to better present yourself. My hands slide along the backs of your thighs which are now lifted from the sofa, and cup your ass.

My tongue lightly traces the thin line of your sex and your thighs part wider to allow the violation to be that much more complete. My cock presses against the seam of my jeans, reminding me of its own need - greedily seeking its own heaven, eager to replace my tongue. I can taste you on my tongue, sweet and salty and want more of that flavor. My nails dig into your ass, raking down until I have you firmly in my grasp. I can feel them digging into your skin and relish the sensation as I flick my tongue across your clit.

The tension has stiffened your body momentarily before you dissolve into my hands, eager for more of the same, twisting lightly in my grip, but welcoming it all the same. My tongue rakes your clit again and you let out a cry and momentarily tighten your grip.

‘Fuck me.’ English, last resort. The words are whispered into the air, soft and demanding all at the same time. I glance up you and catch your heavy lidded gaze upon me. I smile from between your thighs, flicking your clit as I slide a finger and then a second inside you. Your eyes flutter for a moment and then you moan loudly. I know the places inside you, the triggers you have, the buttons to push. I feel you lean forward and lift my head to meet your lips. My tongue rapes your mouth even as my fingers curl inside you to stroke that special wall, that oh-so-sensitive membrane. You gasp against my mouth and a moment later the first of your releases is upon you.

My fingers slowly pull from your slit as you collapse against the sofa. My cock pulses, eagerly demanding more.

‘Mucho mas.’ I pull you down further from the sofa and unfasten the buttons. ‘Much, much more.’